Chapter 27 Padfoot Returns

One of the best things about the aftermath of the second task was that everybody was very keen to hear details of what had happened down in the lake, which meant that Ron was getting to share Harry's limelight for once. Harry noticed that Ron's version of events changed subtly with every retelling. At first, he gave what seemed to be the truth; it tallied with Hermione's story, anyway - Dumbledore had put all the hostages into a bewitched sleep in Professor McGonagall's office, first assuring them that they would be quite safe, and would awake when they were back above the water. One week later, however, Ron was telling a thrilling tale of kidnap in which he struggled single-handedly against fifty heavily armed merpeople who had to beat him into submission before tying him up.

“But I had my wand hidden up my sleeve,” he assured Padma Patil, who seemed to be a lot keener on Ron now that he was getting so much attention and was making a point of talking to him every time they passed in the corridors. “I could've taken those mer-idiots any time I wanted.”

“What were you going to do, snore at them?” said Hermione waspishly. People had been teasing her so much about being the thing that Viktor Krum would most miss that she was in a rather tetchy mood.

Ron's ears went red, and thereafter, he reverted to the bewitched sleep version of events.

As they entered March the weather became drier, but cruel winds skinned their hands and faces every time they went out onto the grounds. There were delays in the post because the owls kept being blown off course. The brown owl that Harry had sent to Sirius with the dates of the Hogsmeade weekend turned up at breakfast on Friday morning with half its feathers sticking up the wrong way; Harry had no sooner torn off Sirius's reply than it took flight, clearly afraid it was going to be sent outside again.

Sirius's letter was almost as short as the previous one.

Be at stile at end of road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Bring as much food as you can.
“He hasn't come back to Hogsmeade?” said Ron incredulously.

“It looks like it, doesn't it?” said Hermione.

“I can't believe him,” said Harry tensely, “if he's caught…”

“Made it so far, though, hasn't he?” said Ron. “And it's not like the place is swarming with dementors anymore.”

Harry folded up the letter, thinking. If he was honest with himself, he really wanted to see Sirius again. He therefore approached the final lesson of the afternoon - double Potions - feeling considerably more cheerful than he usually did when descending the steps to the dungeons.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing in a huddle outside the classroom door with Pansy Parkinson's gang of Slytherin girls. All of them were looking at something Harry couldn't see and sniggering heartily. Pansys pug-like face peered excitedly around Goyle's broad back as Harry, Ron, and Hermione approached.

“There they are, there they are!” she giggled, and the knot of Slytherins broke apart. Harry saw that Pansy had a magazine in her hands - Witch Weekly. The moving picture on the front showed a curly-haired witch who was smiling toothily and pointing at a large sponge cake with her wand.

“You might find something to interest you in there, Granger!” Pansy said loudly, and she threw the magazine at Hermione, who caught it, looking startled. At that moment, the dungeon door opened, and Snape beckoned them all inside.

Hermione, Harry, and Ron headed for a table at the back of the dungeon as usual. Once Snape had turned his back on them to write up the ingredients of todays potion on the blackboard, Hermione hastily rifled through the magazine under the desk. At last, in the center pages, Hermione found what they were looking for. Harry and Ron leaned in closer. A color photograph of Harry headed a short piece entitled:

Harry Potter's Secret Heartache
A boy like no other, perhaps - yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss.
Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys’ affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has “never felt this way about any other girl.”
However, it might not be Miss Granger's doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate boys’ interest.
“She's really ugly,” says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, “but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy. I think that's how she's doing it.”
Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potters well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate.
“I told you!” Ron hissed at Hermione as she stared down at the article. “I told you not to annoy Rita Skeeter! She's made you out to be some sort of- of scarlet woman!”

Hermione stopped looking astonished and snorted with laughter. “Scarlet woman?” she repeated, shaking with suppressed giggles as she looked around at Ron.

“It's what my mum calls them,” Ron muttered, his ears going red.

“If that's the best Rita can do, she's losing her touch,” said Hermione, still giggling, as she threw Witch Weekly onto the empty chair beside her. “What a pile of old rubbish.”

She looked over at the Slytherins, who were all watching her and Harry closely across the room to see if they had been upset by the article. Hermione gave them a sarcastic smile and a wave, and she, Harry, and Ron started unpacking the ingredients they would need for their Wit-Sharpening Potion.

“There's something funny, though,” said Hermione ten minutes later, holding her pestle suspended over a bowl of scarab beetles. “How could Rita Skeeter have known…?”

“Known what?” said Ron quickly. “You haven't been mixing up Love Potions, have you?”

“Don't be stupid,” Hermione snapped, starting to pound up her beetles again. “No, it's just…how did she know Viktor asked me to visit him over the summer?”

Hermione blushed scarlet as she said this and determinedly avoided Ron's eyes.

“What?” said Ron, dropping his pestle with a loud clunk.

“He asked me right after he'd pulled me out of the lake.”

Hermione muttered. “After he'd got rid of his shark's head. Madam Pomfrey gave us both blankets and then he sort of pulled me away from the judges so they wouldn't hear, and he said, if I wasn't doing anything over the summer, would I like to -”

“And what did you say?” said Ron, who had picked up his pestle and was grinding it on the desk, a good six inches from his bowl, because he was looking at Hermione.

“And he did say he'd never felt the same way about anyone else,” Hermione went on, going so red now that Harry could almost feel the heat coming from her, “but how could Rita Skeeter have heard him? She wasn't there…or was she? Maybe she has got an Invisibility Cloak; maybe she sneaked onto the grounds to watch the second task.…”

“And what did you say?” Ron repeated, pounding his pestle down so hard that it dented the desk.

“Well, I was too busy seeing whether you and Harry were okay to -”

“Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is. Miss Granger,” said an icy voice right behind them, and all three of them jumped, “I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor.”

Snape had glided over to their desk while they were talking. The whole class was now looking around at them; Malfoy took the opportunity to flash POTTER STINKS across the dungeon at Harry.

“Ah…reading magazines under the table as well?” Snape added, snatching up the copy of Witch Weekly. “A further ten points from Gryffindor…oh but of course…” Snape's black eyes glittered as they fell on Rita Skeeter's article. “Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings.…”

The dungeon rang with the Slytherins’ laughter, and an unpleasant smile curled Snape's thin mouth. To Harry's fury, he began to read the article aloud.

“'Harry Potter's Secret Heartache…dear, dear. Potter, what's ailing you now? ‘A boy like no other, perhaps…'”

Harry could feel his face burning. Snape was pausing at the end of every sentence to allow the Slytherins a hearty laugh. The article sounded ten times worse when read by Snape. Even Hermione was blushing scarlet now.

“'…Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate.’ How very touching,” sneered Snape, rolling up the magazine to continued gales of laughter from the Slytherins. “Well, I think I had better separate the three of you, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than on your tangled love lives. Weasley, you stay here. Miss Granger, over there, beside Miss Parkinson. Potter - that table in front of my desk. Move. Now.”

Furious, Harry threw his ingredients and his bag into his cauldron and dragged it up to the front of the dungeon to the empty table. Snape followed, sat down at his desk and watched Harry unload his cauldron. Determined not to look at Snape, Harry resumed the mashing of his scarab beetles, imagining each one to have Snape's face.

“All this press attention seems to have inflated your already over-large head. Potter,” said Snape quietly, once the rest of the class had settled down again.

Harry didn't answer. He knew Snape was trying to provoke him; he had done this before. No doubt he was hoping for an excuse to take a round fifty points from Gryffindor before the end of the class.

“You might be laboring under the delusion that the entire wizarding world is impressed with you,” Snape went on, so quietly that no one else could hear him (Harry continued to pound his scarab beetles, even though he had already reduced them to a very fine powder), “but I don't care how many times your picture appears in the papers. To me. Potter, you are nothing but a nasty little boy who considers rules to be beneath him.”

Harry tipped the powdered beetles into his cauldron and started cutting up his ginger roots. His hands were shaking slightly out of anger, but he kept his eyes down, as though he couldn't hear what Snape was saying to him.

“So I give you fair warning, Potter,” Snape continued in a sorter and more dangerous voice, “pint-sized celebrity or not - if I catch you breaking into my office one more time -”

“I haven't been anywhere near your office!” said Harry angrily, forgetting his feigned deafness.

“Don't lie to me,” Snape hissed, his fathomless black eyes boring into Harry's. “Boomslang skin. Gillyweed. Both come from my private stores, and I know who stole them.”

Harry stared back at Snape, determined not to blink or to look guilty. In truth, he hadn't stolen either of these things from Snape. Hermione had taken the boomslang skin back in their second year - they had needed it for the Polyjuice Potion - and while Snape had suspected Harry at the time, he had never been able to prove it. Dobby, of course, had stolen the gillyweed.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Harry lied coldly.

“You were out of bed on the night my office was broken into!” Snape hissed. “I know it. Potter! Now, Mad-Eye Moody might have joined your fan club, but I will not tolerate your behavior! One more nighttime stroll into my office, Potter, and you will pay!”

“Right,” said Harry coolly, turning back to his ginger roots. “I'll bear that in mind if I ever get the urge to go in there.”

Snape's eyes flashed. He plunged a hand into the inside of his black robes. For one wild moment. Harry thought Snape was about to pull out his wand and curse him - then he saw that Snape had drawn out a small crystal bottle of a completely clear potion. Harry stared at it.

“Do you know what this is. Potter?” Snape said, his eyes glittering dangerously again.

“No,” said Harry, with complete honesty this time.

“It is Veritaserum - a Truth Potion so powerful that three drops would have you spilling your innermost secrets for this entire class to hear,” said Snape viciously. “Now, the use of this potion is controlled by very strict Ministry guidelines. But unless you watch your step, you might just find that my hand slips” - he shook the crystal bottle slightly - “right over your evening pumpkin juice. And then. Potter…then we'll find out whether you've been in my office or not.”

Harry said nothing. He turned back to his ginger roots once more, picked up his knife, and started slicing them again. He didn't like the sound of that Truth Potion at all, nor would he put it past Snape to slip him some. He repressed a shudder at the thought of what might come spilling out of his mouth if Snape did it…quite apart from landing a whole lot of people in trouble - Hermione and Dobby for a start - there were all the other things he was concealing…like the fact that he was in contact with Sirius…and - his insides squirmed at the thought - how he felt about Cho.…He tipped his ginger roots into the cauldron too, and wondered whether he ought to take a leaf out of Moody's book and start drinking only from a private hip flask.

There was a knock on the dungeon door.

“Enter,” said Snape in his usual voice.

The class looked around as the door opened. Professor Karkaroff came in. Everyone watched him as he walked up toward Snape's desk. He was twisting his finger around his goatee and looking agitated.

“We need to talk,” said Karkaroff abruptly when he had reached Snape. He seemed so determined that nobody should hear what he was saying that he was barely opening his lips; it was as though he were a rather poor ventriloquist. Harry kept his eyes on his ginger roots, listening hard.

“I'll talk to you after my lesson, Karkaroff,” Snape muttered, but Karkaroff interrupted him.

“I want to talk now, while you can't slip off, Severus. You've been avoiding me.”

“After the lesson,” Snape snapped.

Under the pretext of holding up a measuring cup to see if he'd poured out enough armadillo bile, Harry sneaked a sidelong glance at the pair of them. Karkaroff looked extremely worried, and Snape looked angry.

Karkaroff hovered behind Snape's desk for the rest of the double period. He seemed intent on preventing Snape from slipping away at the end of class. Keen to hear what Karkaroff wanted to say, Harry deliberately knocked over his bottle of armadillo bile with two minutes to go to the bell, which gave him an excuse to duck down behind his cauldron and mop up while the rest of the class moved noisily toward the door.

“What's so urgent?” he heard Snape hiss at Karkaroff.

“This,” said Karkaroff, and Harry, peering around the edge of his cauldron, saw Karkaroff pull up the left-hand sleeve of his robe and show Snape something on his inner forearm.

“Well?” said Karkaroff, still making every effort not to move his lips. “Do you see? It's never been this clear, never since -”

“Put it away!” snarled Snape, his black eyes sweeping the classroom.

“But you must have noticed -” Karkaroff began in an agitated voice.

“We can talk later, Karkaroff!” spat Snape. “Potter! What are you doing?”

“Clearing up my armadillo bile, Professor,” said Harry innocently, straightening up and showing Snape the sodden rag he was holding.

Karkaroff turned on his heel and strode out of the dungeon. He looked both worried and angry. Not wanting to remain alone with an exceptionally angry Snape, Harry threw his books and ingredients back into his bag and left at top speed to tell Ron and Hermione what he had just witnessed.

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They left the castle at noon the next day to find a weak silver sun shining down upon the grounds. The weather was milder than it had been all year, and by the time they arrived in Hogsmeade, all three of them had taken off their cloaks and thrown them over their shoulders. The food Sirius had told them to bring was in Harry's bag; they had sneaked a dozen chicken legs, a loaf of bread, and a flask of pumpkin juice from the lunch table.

They went into Gladrags Wizardwear to buy a present for Dobby, where they had fun selecting the most lurid socks they could find, including a pair patterned with flashing gold and silver stars, and another that screamed loudly when they became too smelly. Then, at half past one, they made their way up the High Street, past Dervish and Banges, and out toward the edge of the village.

Harry had never been in this direction before. The winding lane was leading them out into the wild countryside around Hogsmeade. The cottages were fewer here, and their gardens larger; they were walking toward the foot of the mountain in whose shadow Hogsmeade lay. Then they turned a corner and saw a stile at the end of the lane. Waiting for them, its front paws on the topmost bar, was a very large, shaggy black dog, which was carrying some newspapers in its mouth and looking very familiar.…

“Hello, Sirius,” said Harry when they had reached him.

The black dog sniffed Harry's bag eagerly, wagged its tail once, then turned and began to trot away from them across the scrubby patch of ground that rose to meet the rocky foot of the mountain. Harry, Ron, and Hermione climbed over the stile and followed.

Sirius led them to the very foot of the mountain, where the ground was covered with boulders and rocks. It was easy for him, with his four paws, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione were soon out of breath. They followed Sirius higher, up onto the mountain itself. For nearly half an hour they climbed a steep, winding, and stony path, following Sirius's wagging tail, sweating in the sun, the shoulder straps of Harry's bag cutting into his shoulders.

Then, at last, Sirius slipped out of sight, and when they reached the place where he had vanished, they saw a narrow fissure in the rock. They squeezed into it and found themselves in a cool, dimly lit cave. Tethered at the end of it, one end of his rope around a large rock, was Buckbeak the hippogriff. Half gray horse, half giant eagle, Buckbeak's fierce orange eye flashed at the sight of them. All three of them bowed low to him, and after regarding them imperiously for a moment, Buckbeak bent his scaly front knees and allowed Hermione to rush forward and stroke his feathery neck. Harry, however, was looking at the black dog, which had just turned into his godfather.

Sirius was wearing ragged gray robes; the same ones he had been wearing when he had left Azkaban. His black hair was longer than it had been when he had appeared in the fire, and it was untidy and matted once more. He looked very thin.

“Chicken!” he said hoarsely after removing the old Daily Prophets from his mouth and throwing them down onto the cave floor.

Harry pulled open his bag and handed over the bundle of chicken legs and bread.

“Thanks,” said Sirius, opening it, grabbing a drumstick, sitting down on the cave floor, and tearing off a large chunk with his teeth. “I've been living off rats mostly. Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself.”

He grinned up at Harry, but Harry returned the grin only reluctantly.

“What're you doing here, Sirius?” he said.

“Fulfilling my duty as godfather,” said Sirius, gnawing on the chicken bone in a very doglike way. “Don't worry about it, I'm pretending to be a lovable stray.”

He was still grinning, but seeing the anxiety in Harry's face, said more seriously, “I want to be on the spot. Your last letter…well, let's just say things are getting fishier. I've been stealing the paper every time someone throws one out, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's getting worried.”

He nodded at the yellowing Daily Prophets on the cave floor, and Ron picked them up and unfolded them. Harry, however, continued to stare at Sirius.

“What if they catch you? What if you're seen?”

“You three and Dumbledore are the only ones around here who know I'm an Animagus,” said Sirius, shrugging, and continuing to devour the chicken leg.

Ron nudged Harry and passed him the Daily Prophets. There were two: The first bore the headline Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch, the second, Ministry Witch Still Missing - Minister of Magic Now Personally Involved.

Harry scanned the story about Crouch. Phrases jumped out at him: hasn't been seen in public since November…house appears deserted…St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries decline comment…Ministry refuses to confirm rumors of critical illness.…

“They're making it sound like he's dying,” said Harry slowly. “But he can't be that ill if he managed to get up here.…”

“My brothers Crouch's personal assistant,” Ron informed Sirius. “He says Crouch is suffering from overwork.”

“Mind you, he did look ill, last time I saw him up close,” said Harry slowly, still reading the story. “The night my name came out of the goblet.…”

“Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?” said Hermione, an edge to her voice. She was stroking Buckbeak, who was crunching up Sirius's chicken bones. “I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now - bet he feels the difference now she's not there to look after him.”

“Hermione's obsessed with house-elfs,” Ron muttered to Sirius, casting Hermione a dark look. Sirius, however, looked interested.

“Crouch sacked his house-elf?”

“Yeah, at the Quidditch World Cup,” said Harry, and he launched into the story of the Dark Mark's appearance, and Winky being found with Harry's wand clutched in her hand, and Mr. Crouch's fury. When Harry had finished, Sirius was on his feet again and had started pacing up and down the cave.

“Let me get this straight,” he said after a while, brandishing a fresh chicken leg. “You first saw the elfin the Top Box. She was saving Crouch a seat, right?”

“Right,” said Harry, Ron, and Hermione together.

“But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?”

“No,” said Harry. “I think he said he'd been too busy.”

Sirius paced all around the cave in silence. Then he said, “Harry, did you check your pockets for your wand after you'd left the Top Box?”

“Erm…” Harry thought hard. “No,” he said finally. “I didn't need to use it before we got in the forest. And then I put my hand in my pocket, and all that was in there were my Omnioculars.” He stared at Sirius. “Are you saying whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand in the Top Box?”

“It's possible,” said Sirius.

“Winky didn't steal that wand!” Hermione insisted.

“The elf wasn't the only one in that box,” said Sirius, his brow furrowed as he continued to pace. “Who else was sitting behind you?”

“Loads of people,” said Harry. “Some Bulgarian ministers…Cornelius Fudge…the Malfoys…”

“The Malfoys!” said Ron suddenly, so loudly that his voice echoed all around the cave, and Buckbeak tossed his head nervously. “I bet it was Lucius Malfoy!”

“Anyone else?” said Sirius.

“No one,” said Harry.

“Yes, there was, there was Ludo Bagman,” Hermione reminded him.

“Oh yeah…”

“I don't know anything about Bagman except that he used to be Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps,” said Sirius, still pacing. “What's he like?”

“He's okay,” said Harry. “He keeps offering to help me with the Triwizard Tournament.”

“Does he, now?” said Sirius, frowning more deeply. “I wonder why he'd do that?”

“Says he's taken a liking to me,” said Harry.

“Hmm,” said Sirius, looking thoughtful.

“We saw him in the forest just before the Dark Mark appeared,” Hermione told Sirius. “Remember?” she said to Harry and Ron.

“Yeah, but he didn't stay in the forest, did he?” said Ron. “The moment we told him about the riot, he went off to the campsite.”

“How d'you know?” Hermione shot back. “How d'you know where he Disapparated to?”

“Come off it,” said Ron incredulously. “Are you saying you reckon Ludo Bagman conjured the Dark Mark?”

“It's more likely he did it than Winky,” said Hermione stubbornly.

“Told you,” said Ron, looking meaningfully at Sirius, “told you she's obsessed with house -”

But Sirius held up a hand to silence Ron.

“When the Dark Mark had been conjured, and the elf had been discovered holding Harry's wand, what did Crouch do?”

“Went to look in the bushes,” said Harry, “but there wasn't anyone else there.”

“Of course,” Sirius muttered, pacing up and down, “of course, he'd want to pin it on anyone but his own elf…and then he sacked her?”

“Yes,” said Hermione in a heated voice, “he sacked her, just because she hadn't stayed in her tent and let herself get trampled -”

“Hermione, will you give it a rest with the elf!” said Ron.

Sirius shook his head and said, “She's got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a mans like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.”

He ran a hand over his unshaven face, evidently thinking hard.

“All these absences of Barty Crouch's…he goes to the trouble of making sure his house-elf saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn't bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that too.…It's not like Crouch. If he's ever taken a day off work because of illness before this, I'll eat Buckbeak.”

“D'you know Crouch, then?” said Harry.

Sirius's face darkened. He suddenly looked as menacing as he had the night when Harry first met him, the night when Harry still believed Sirius to be a murderer.

“Oh I know Crouch all right,” he said quietly. “He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban - without a trial.”

“What?” said Ron and Hermione together.

“You're kidding!” said Harry.

“No, I'm not,” said Sirius, taking another great bite of chicken. “Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know?”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione shook their heads.

“He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic,” said Sirius. “He's a great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully magical - and power-hungry. Oh never a Voldemort supporter,” he said, reading the look on Harry's face. “No, Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side. But then a lot of people who were against the Dark Side…well, you wouldn't understand…you're too young.…”

“That's what my dad said at the World Cup,” said Ron, with a trace of irritation in his voice. “Try us, why don't you?”

A grin flashed across Sirius's thin face.

“All right, I'll try you.…” He walked once up the cave, back again, and then said, “Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, and your family, and your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing…the Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don't know what to do, they're trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere…panic…confusion…that's how it used to be.

“Well, times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others. Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning - I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers - powers to kill rather than capture, for instance. And I wasn't the only one who was handed straight to the dementors without trial. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side. He had his supporters, mind you - plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened.…” Sirius smiled grimly. “Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power.”

“Crouch's son was caught?” gasped Hermione.

“Yep,” said Sirius, throwing his chicken bone to Buckbeak, flinging himself back down on the ground beside the loaf of bread, and tearing it in half. “Nasty little shock for old Barty, I'd I magine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn't he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while…gotten to know his own son.”

He began to wolf down large pieces of bread.

“Was his son a Death Eater?” said Harry.

“No idea,” said Sirius, still stuffing down bread. “I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I've found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters - but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf.”

“Did Crouch try and get his son off?” Hermione whispered.

Sirius let out a laugh that was much more like a bark.

“Crouch let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione! Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted house-elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark again - doesn't that tell you what he's like? Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn't much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy…then he sent him straight to Azkaban.”

“He gave his own son to the dementors?” asked Harry quietly.

“That's right,” said Sirius, and he didn't look remotely amused now. “I saw the dementors bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can't have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though…they all went quiet in the end…except when they shrieked in their sleep.…”

For a moment, the deadened look in Sirius's eyes became more pronounced than ever, as though shutters had closed behind them.

“So he's still in Azkaban?” Harry said.

“No,” said Sirius dully. “No, he's not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in.”

“He died?”

“He wasn't the only one,” said Sirius bitterly. “Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the dementors could sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it.”

Sirius threw aside the bread he had just lifted to his mouth and instead picked up the flask of pumpkin juice and drained it.

“So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made,” he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic…next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonored, and, so I've heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation.”

There was a long silence. Harry was thinking of the way Crouch's eyes had bulged as he'd looked down at his disobedient house-elf back in the wood at the Quidditch World Cup. This, then, must have been why Crouch had overreacted to Winky being found beneath the Dark Mark. It had brought back memories of his son, and the old scandal, and his fall from grace at the Ministry.

“Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards,” Harry told Sirius.

“Yeah, I've heard it's become a bit of a mania with him,” said Sirius, nodding. “If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater.”

“And he sneaked up here to search Snape's office!” said Ron triumphantly, looking at Hermione.

“Yes, and that doesn't make sense at all,” said Sirius.

“Yeah, it does!” said Ron excitedly, but Sirius shook his head.

“Listen, if Crouch wants to investigate Snape, why hasn't he been coming to judge the tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts and keep an eye on him.”

“So you think Snape could be up to something, then?” asked Harry, but Hermione broke in.

“Look, I don't care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape -”

“Oh give it a rest, Hermione,” said Ron impatiently. “I know Dumbledores brilliant and everything, but that doesn't mean a really clever Dark wizard couldn't fool him -”

“Why did Snape save Harry's life in the first year, then? Why didn't he just let him die?”

“I dunno - maybe he thought Dumbledore would kick him out-”

“What d'you think, Sirius?” Harry said loudly, and Ron and Hermione stopped bickering to listen.

“I think they've both got a point,” said Sirius, looking thoughtfully at Ron and Hermione. “Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was,” Sirius added, and Harry and Ron grinned at each other. “Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters.”

Sirius held up his fingers and began ticking off names.

“Rosier and Wilkes - they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges - they're a married couple - they're in Azkaban. Avery - from what I've heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he'd been acting under the Imperius Curse - he's still at large. But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater - not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble.”

“Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet,” said Ron.

“Yeah, you should've seen Snape's face when Karkaroff turned up in Potions yesterday!” said Harry quickly. “Karkaroff wanted to talk to Snape, he says Snape's been avoiding him. Karkaroff looked really worried. He showed Snape something on his arm, but I couldn't see what it was.”

He showed Snape something on his arm?” said Sirius, looking frankly bewildered. He ran his fingers distractedly through his filthy hair, then shrugged again. “Well, I've no idea what that's about…but if Karkaroff's genuinely worried, and he's going to Snape for answers…”

Sirius stared at the cave wall, then made a grimace of frustration.

“There's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn't, but I just can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort.”

“Why are Moody and Crouch so keen to get into Snape's office then?” said Ron stubbornly.

“Well,” said Sirius slowly, “I wouldn't put it past Mad-Eye to have searched every single teacher's office when he got to Hogwarts. He takes his Defense Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody. I'm not sure he trusts anyone at all, and after the things he's seen, it's not surprising. I'll say this for Moody, though, he never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough, but he never descended to the level of the Death Eaters. Crouch, though…he's a different matter…is he really ill? If he is, why did he make the effort to drag himself up to Snape's office? And if he's not…what's he up to? What was he doing at the World Cup that was so important he didn't turn up in the Top Box? What's he been doing while he should have been judging the tournament?”

Sirius lapsed into silence, still staring at the cave wall. Buckbeak was ferreting around on the rocky floor, looking for bones he might have overlooked. Finally, Sirius looked up at Ron.

“You say your brother's Crouch's personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?”

“I can try,” said Ron doubtfully. “Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Percy loves Crouch.”

“And you might try and find out whether they've got any leads on Bertha Jorkins while you're at it,” said Sirius, gesturing to the second copy of the Daily Prophet.

“Bagman told me they hadn't,” said Harry.

“Yes, he's quoted in the article in there,” said Sirius, nodding at the paper. “Blustering on about how bad Bertha's memory is. Well, maybe she's changed since I knew her, but the Bertha I knew wasn't forgetful at all - quite the reverse. She was a bit dim, but she had an excellent memory for gossip. It used to get her into a lot of trouble; she never knew when to keep her mouth shut. I can see her being a bit of a liability at the Ministry of Magic…maybe that's why Bagman didn't bother to look for her for so long.…”

Sirius heaved an enormous sigh and rubbed his shadowed eyes.

“What's the time?”

Harry checked his watch, then remembered it hadn't been working since it had spent over an hour in the lake.

“It's half past three,” said Hermione.

“You'd better get back to school,” Sirius said, getting to his feet. “Now listen…” He looked particularly hard at Harry. “I don't want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you.”

“No one's tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a couple of grindylows,” Harry said, but Sirius scowled at him.

“I don't care…I'll breathe freely again when this tournament's over, and that's not until June. And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?”

He handed Harry the empty napkin and flask and went to pat Buckbeak good-bye. “I'll walk to the edge of the village with you,” said Sirius, “see if I can scrounge another paper.”

He transformed into the great black dog before they left the cave, and they walked back down the mountainside with him, across the boulder-strewn ground, and back to the stile. Here he allowed each of them to pat him on the head, before turning and setting off at a run around the outskirts of the village. Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way back into Hogsmeade and up toward Hogwarts.

“Wonder if Percy knows all that stuff about Crouch?” Ron said as they walked up the drive to the castle. “But maybe he doesn't care…It'd probably just make him admire Crouch even more. Yeah, Percy loves rules. He'd just say Crouch was refusing to break them for his own son.”

“Percy would never throw any of his family to the dementors,” said Hermione severely.

“I don't know,” said Ron. “If he thought we were standing in the way of his career…Percy's really ambitious, you know.…”

They walked up the stone steps into the entrance hall, where the delicious smells of dinner wafted toward them from the Great Hall.

“Poor old Snuffles,” said Ron, breathing deeply. “He must really like you. Harry.…Imagine having to live off rats.”

第二件任务之后每个人都争着想知道在湖底发生的一切。这样罗恩就要抢了哈利被公众注目的份儿了。哈利发现罗恩对事情的重述中略微地改变了。一开始，他好像还是在讲事情的真相；一个星期过后，罗恩却在讲一个可怕的拐骗案，说他如何单枪匹马对付那五十个装备精良而且准备打到他屈服并把他绑起来的人。

　　“但我把我的魔杖藏在袖子里。”他使帕得玛。帕提相信他。帕得玛。帕提显得更被吸引住了。罗恩每过一个走廊都会强调一下他要讲的内容，“我随时可以干掉那帮海底傻瓜。”

　　“那你那时打算怎么做，对他们打鼾吗？”荷米恩尖刻地说。因为人们取笑她说她是维特。克伦最想念的人，她变得格外易怒。

　　罗恩的耳根都红了。于是他又描述了一遍被弄晕睡过去的情景。

　　随着三月的到来，天气变得更干燥了，每当哈利他们出去时，刺骨的寒风刮着他们的手和脸。这种天气使通讯上有点耽搁，因为猫头鹰不停地被风吹偏离跑线。这只棕色的猫头鹰是带着哈利发给西里斯的信。哈利想告诉他霍格瓦彻的会议要在星期五早晨的早餐上举行。猫头鹰的羽毛乱七竖八地立着。哈利一见到西里斯的回复就赶紧拿下来，生恐猫头鹰会把它又带走。

　　西里斯的信几乎跟先前的一样短：“星期六下午两点在霍格瓦彻外面路尽头阶梯见。尽量多带食物。”

　　“他还没回霍格瓦彻？”罗恩将信将疑地说。

　　“看来是的，不是吗？”荷米恩说。

　　“我不相信，”哈利紧张地说，“如果他已经抓了……”

　　“到现在这田地只好相信了。”罗恩说，“那里也不再像是聚集得蒙特的地方了。”

　　哈利把信叠好，思考着。如果他是诚恳的，他应该想再见西里斯一次。因此他开始了下午的最后一课——生物药脂学。当他走下地牢的阶梯时他觉得比平时更轻快。

　　下午最后一节课上课前马尔夫、克来伯和高尔以及史林德林女孩聚集在教室门口。他们全都在看着一样哈利看不出来的东西。当哈利、罗恩和荷米思进来时，班西那哈巴狗似的脸正在凝视在高尔那平定的大脸上。

　　“他们来了，他们来了！”她格格地笑，史林德林那群人散开了。

　　哈利见到班西手里拿着本杂志——《美女周刊》。封面上画着一位手里拿着魔杖的卷发的迷人女孩正对着一个大蛋糕露齿笑着。

　　“在这儿你可以发现一些有趣的东西，格林佐！”班西大声唤，并把杂志扔给荷米恩。荷米恩接住杂志，吃惊地看着她。就在那时，地牢的门开了，招他们进来。

　　荷米恩、哈利和罗恩像往常一样朝着地牢后面的桌子走过去。

　　当史纳皮一转身在黑板上写今天学的那剂药的配方时，荷米恩迅速地在桌子底下创览了一下杂志。最后，在杂志中间，荷米恩发现了他们要找的文章。哈利和罗恩靠上来。在一张哈利的彩图上标着“哈利·波特秘密的头疼”。上面是这样写着的：与众不同的一个男孩，也许是吧；但是，这个男孩承受着青年人所承受的一切烦恼——理特。史姬特这么写道——自从一场不幸夺去了他的父母，十四岁的哈利就被夺去了被爱的权利。他想他可以从亲密的女友——一个来自霍格瓦彻的农家女孩的安慰。然而他没意识到他将会经受生命中另外一次感情的打击——所爱被夺。

　　格林佐小组，一个相貌平平，但野心勃勃的女孩，好像钟情于那些出色的奇才，然而哈利却不是。自从维持。克伦——保加利亚籍，快迪斯世界杯比赛的最后一个英雄——来到霍格瓦彻，格林佐小姐就开始玩弄两个男孩的爱情。克伦这个公然与迷途的格林佐小姐厮磨的男孩，已经向她发出邀请访她去保加利亚度暑假，而且声称他从未与另一个女孩感受到如此的炽热的爱。

　　可能不是格林佐小姐那值得怀疑的自然之美吸引住这两个不幸的男孩。

　　“她真丑，”班西啪金森，一个十四岁的漂亮活泼的学生说，“但她有足够的本事制爱情药，她有脑筋，我想她现在就这么做着。”

　　爱情药在霍格瓦彻当然是禁止的，但艾伯斯。丹伯多无疑想研究并得专利。这时，哈利·波特的祝福者一定希望下一次他将他的心放在一个更加值得的人身上了。

　　“我告诉过你！”罗恩气呼呼地对荷米恩说，“我告诉你别去惹怒理特。史姬特！她会把你变成一个荡妇的！”

　　荷米恩当时正在看那篇文章，她抬眼一看他，有点惊讶，然后轻蔑地笑。

　　“荡妇？”她复述着，她回头看了罗恩，尽量忍住格格的笑。

　　“我妈妈这样称呼她们。”罗恩咕哝着，耳根又红透了。

　　“如果那是理特能做的，她肯定失去理智了。”荷米恩仍笑着说。

　　“一堆垃圾！”她把那本美女周刊扔在一张空的桌子上面。

　　她看看史林德林那群人，他们正在看她。这时哈利悄悄地走到这边看他们是否被那篇文章弄得不开心了。荷米恩朝他摆摆手、讽刺地笑了笑，然后和哈利、罗恩一起取出他们要做清醒药的配料。

　　“倒还真有点可笑，”十分钟后荷米恩说，“理特。史姬特是怎么知道的……？”

　　“知道啥？”罗恩快言快语，“你还没配好爱情药，不是吗？”

　　“别犯傻了，”荷米恩打断他的话，开始把甲虫捣烂，“不是的，只是，她怎么知道维特叫我夏天去拜访他？”

　　荷米恩这样说时脸都红窘了，她决意避开罗恩的眼神。

　　“什么？“铿锵一声，罗恩的杵掉在地上。

　　“他一把我拖出湖面就问我，”荷米恩低声说，“当他逃离鲨鱼的虎口，波姆弗雷夫人给我们两张毯子，他就拉我到一处以便大家都听不见的地方，他就问我如果我这个暑假没啥好干，我是否愿意去……”

　　“你怎么回答？”罗恩紧张地问，他捡起杵子，在离碗六英寸远的桌上捣呀磨呀，眼睛一刻也没离开过荷米恩。

　　“他说从来没有一个女孩让他心跳如此狂烈，”荷米恩脸红得如此厉害以致哈利都感到她发出的热气。“但理特。史姬特怎么听到的呢？她又不在场，难道……？也许她有一件隐形篷衣，或者她溜到地牢里看第二项任务……”

　　“那你说什么了？”罗恩再问一遍，他那么大力地辗着桌子以致桌子都凹下去了。

　　“得了，我太忙于照料你和哈利，我不能……”

　　“你的社交毫无疑问是——荒诞，格林佐小姐”，一个冰冷的声音从后面传来，“我必须要求你不要在我们课上讨论这样的话题，扣十分。”

　　史纳皮已经走到他们那儿了。这时整个班的人都盯着他们看。

　　马尔夫有机会拿波特斯丁在哈利面前炫耀了。

　　“啊，还在桌底下看杂志喔？”史纳皮一把抓过美女周刊，“哼，得再扣十分……幄，当然……”史纲皮的黑眼睛看到理特。史姬特的文章时突然一亮，“波特得跟上他受伤的心……

　　地牢里回荡着史林德林那群人的哄笑，史纳皮先生薄薄的嘴皮露出一个不满的微笑。为了激怒哈利，他开始大声朗读。

　　“《哈利·波特的秘密头疼》——噢，亲爱的，什么使你这样疼呀？——一个与众不同的男孩，也许……”

　　哈利感到他的脸火辣辣地烧着。史纳皮每读完一句就停一下，那些史林德林就拼命地笑。这篇文章让史纳皮读真是难听十倍。

　　“哈利·波特的祝福者一定希望，下一次他会把他的心放在一个更值得的人身上。”“真感人！”史纳皮先生轻蔑地笑，把杂志卷起来。

　　“好，我想我最好分开你们三个人以便你们能抛开三角恋爱集中精神听我的课。威斯里，你就留在那儿，格林佐小姐，你去帕金森小姐旁边。波特，到我前面的桌子，现在换位。”

　　哈利把他的配料和书包气冲冲地扔进他的大汽锅里，把它拖到地牢前面的空桌子。史纳皮跟着他，坐在自己的桌子上看着哈利把锅里的东西拿出来。哈利决定不看史纳皮，把甲虫都当作史纳皮的脸研磨成糊状。

　　当其他同学安静下来的时候，史纳皮说：“所有的这些压力使你那原本已过大的脑袋膨胀了。”

　　哈利不应声。他知道史纳皮又在挑衅，他以前就这样做过。毫无疑问是在找茬。让他在课结束之前扣五十分。

　　“你在妄想着整个男巫世界都在你的控制之下，”史纳皮继续说。

　　他说得很小声，没有旁人听得见（哈利也继续磨他的甲虫，他已经磨得不能再碎了）。“但我不管你在杂志上登过多少照片，对于我来说，你只不过是一个令人作呕的毛孩，老想把戒律抛之不理。”

　　哈利把甲虫粉倒进锅里并开始切姜。出于愤怒，他的手微微发抖，但他坚持眼皮也不抬一下，好像没听见史纳皮在对他说。

　　“不是我不警告你，波特，”史纳皮用一种更温柔更危险的声音说道，“小而无价值的庆祝或者——如果让我抓住你企图再闯进我的办公室——”

　　“我从来不靠近你的办公室！”哈利吼道，忘了他刚才还在装聋。

　　“你瞒不过我，”史纳皮哼了一下，他那毫无深度的呆眼盯着哈利，“我知道是谁偷的！”

　　哈利瞪回史纳皮，眼睛决意不眨，好像不怕被责备一样。事实上，他两样东西都没偷。荷米恩在二年级时拿走了史纳皮那张有咒语的皮，因为他们要用它制烦恼药。史纳皮一直怀疑哈利，但无法证实。而另外一样是多比偷的。

　　“我压根儿不知道你在说什么。”哈利冷冷地说。

　　“我办公室被盗那天你正好不在床上！我就晓得是你！现在魔眼莫迪可能加入你们那伙人，但我不会再忍受你的行为！再敢闯进我的办公室，我就收拾你！”

　　“好的，”哈利冷冷地说完转身切他的姜，“如果有必要去你那里，我会好好地记住你的话的。”

　　史纳皮眼红了一下，他把手插进他的黑袍里。僵持了一下，哈利猜史纳皮要抽出他的魔杖来咒他——但史纳皮拿出一个装着清澈透明药剂的水晶小瓶。哈利盯着瓶子。

　　“知道这是用来干嘛的吗？”史纳皮的眼里闪烁着危险的光芒。

　　“不知道。”这次哈利完全老实地回答。

　　“这是吃了讲真话的药。只要三滴就能把你最心底的话掏出来讲给全班听。”史纳皮阴恶地说，“虽然这种药严格控制使用，但我还是能用它看你是否真的到我办公室没有。”

　　哈利不作声。他又低头切他的姜。他一点也不喜欢这种说真话的药，他也决不会让史纳皮灌给他吃。一想到如果史纳皮真让他吃了后果会怎样，他就打了个颤。他把姜丝倒进大锅里，想着要不要撕莫迪书上的一页，然后喝他自己的长颈瓶里的东西。

　　地牢门给人敲得咯咯响。

　　“进来。”史纳皮恢复到他正常的声音。

　　门开时全班都望过去。进来的是卡克罗夫教授。当他径直走向史纳皮的桌子时每个人都望着他。他用手摸着他的山羊胡须，显然他很激动。

　　“我们要谈一下。”卡克罗夫走到史纳皮处时突然说。他好像决意不让任何人知道他说什么似的，嘴巴几乎没动，看上去就像一个瘪脚的口技表演者。哈利眼虽还看在姜上，耳朵却坚直了听着。

　　“卡克罗夫，下课后我找你谈。”史纳皮低声说，但卡克罗夫打断了他的话。

　　“我现在就要谈，你不要再闪避，你老避着我了。”

　　“下课后说。”史纳皮说。

　　借着举起量杯看是否倒进足够的犰狳胆汁的机会，哈利侧眼掠了一下他们。卡克罗夫显得很忧虑而史纳皮则很气愤。

　　卡克罗夫留在史纳皮的桌子后面度过这节课剩余的时间。他好像决计要防止史纳皮在课室的尽头溜走。哈利很想知道他们将谈什么，便故意在下课前两分钟打烂装着犹徐胆汁的试管好有借口下课后晚点走。

　　“什么这么紧急？”他听见史纳皮对卡克罗夫心急地说。

　　“这个。”卡克罗夫说。

　　哈利凝视着他的大锅边缘，却能看到卡克罗夫从他的袍子里伸出左手，给史纳皮看一样东西。

　　“看见了吗？”卡克罗夫仍然尽力闭着嘴说话，“看见了吗？它以前没有这么清澈，自从——”

　　“把它收好！”史纳皮咆哮道，他的黑眼扫了一遍课室。

　　“但是你一定已经注意到——”卡克罗夫开始焦急。

　　“我们迟点再说！”史纳皮轻拍了他一下。“波特！你在这儿干什么？”

　　“扫干净那些机徐胆汁，教授。”哈利无辜地说，拿那块湿的抹布给他看。

　　卡克罗夫又气又担心地离开了。不想与正要发火的史纳皮留在地牢里。哈利把他的书呀，调料呀全塞进包里，最快速度地跑去告诉罗恩和荷米恩他所见到的一切。

　　第二天中午太阳不是那么猛的时候他们出发赴要西里斯的约会。天气比什么时候都热，所以他们走到霍格瓦彻时，都得把斗篷摘下来了。西里斯叫他们拿的食物全放在哈利的包里；他们从午餐桌上偷了12只鸡，一条面包和一罐南瓜汁。

　　他们先去格来登。乌特维那里买了份礼物给多比。他们发现在那儿挑袜子挺有趣。他们挑了两对。有一对嵌有一闪一闪的金银星，而还有一对当太臭时会发出尖叫。一点半时，他们经过高街，走向村庄的郊区。

　　哈利从来没走过这条路。弯曲的小路把他们带到一个荒凉的农村。这里的屋舍更少，每户的花园更大。他们来到山脚下，拐了一个弯，见到小路的尽头有阶梯。一只看上去很脸熟的蓬毛大黑狗半躺在横木上，口里叼着一些报纸。

　　“嘿，西里斯。”当他们走近它时，哈利打招呼。

　　这只黑狗急着嗅了嗅哈利的包，摆摆尾，然后转身小跑穿过矮树丛。哈利，罗恩和荷米恩爬上阶梯跟在它后面。

　　西里斯领着他们跑到山脚下。那里怪石嶙峋。它轻而易举地跑过去了，但哈利、罗恩和荷米恩很快就上气不接下气。他们跟着西里斯爬上山。沿着一条陡峭石路，在西里斯摇摆的尾巴带领下，他们爬了近一个半小时。背包带在哈利的肩上深深地勒出一道痕。

　　到最后，西里斯消失了。他们在它消失的地方看到一块有裂缝的巨石。他们挤进裂缝里，来到一个凉爽但光线微暗的山洞。那只半像马、半像鸟的鸟嘴巴克的脚用绳拴在一块石头上，眼睛露出锐利的橙色光芒。他们三个弯身向它鞠躬。它傲慢地回应一下之后，过了一会儿，它弯下它多鳞的前脚，允许荷米恩抚摸它的脖子。哈利在看那刚刚变为哈利教父的黑狗。

　　西里斯穿着破烂的灰袍，那件他离开阿兹克班时穿的灰袍。它的黑毛比以前更长，更胜更乱。它显得瘦了。

　　“鸡肉！”它一见到鸡肉立刻扔掉报纸嘶哑地叫。

　　哈利打开背包，递鸡和面包给它。

　　“谢谢！”西里斯抓起鸡肉撕开，津津有味地吃起来。“我现在以老鼠为生，我知道你们不能偷太多，我会照顾自己的了。”

　　他冲哈利咧嘴一笑，但哈利勉强地回报它一笑。

　　“你在这儿都干些什么呢，西里斯？”她问。

　　“负责完成当教父的责任，”西里斯说，用一种狗的方式啃着鸡腿，“不用担心我，我会尽力做一只讨人爱的流浪狗。”

　　他仍然咧嘴笑，但见到哈利担心的样子，便忧虑地说：“我想出来，你那封信——，我每看到人们放下一张报纸我就偷走，通过看报纸得知情况。”

　　它对着地上那张报纸哄哄叫，罗恩捡起来打开看。

　　哈利仍然很担心，“如果他们抓到你或看到你怎么办？”

　　“附近只有你们三个知道我是西里斯，”西里斯耸耸肩，继续啃它的鸡骨。

　　罗恩轻碰了一下哈利，把先知日报递给他看。头条是：巴地。克劳斯的怪病；还有一条是：女巫部长下落不明——魔法部长牵涉进内。

　　哈利读了一下内容。

　　“他们说克劳斯好像快死了，”哈利慢吞吞地说，“但谁只要来那儿一趟就知道情况并不那么糟糕。”

　　“我哥哥是克劳斯的助理，”罗恩告诉西里斯，“他说克劳斯快忙昏了。”

　　“我才不在乎呢！”荷米恩冷淡地说。

　　“荷米恩好像被精灵萦绕。”罗恩对西里斯低声说，并看了一眼荷米恩。

　　西里斯却显得感兴趣。

　　“你第一次看到精灵是在快迪斯世界杯上，她帮克劳斯占了一个座，对不？”

　　“对。”哈利、罗恩和荷米恩异口同声地说。

　　“但克劳斯没出现在那场比赛上。他可能太忙了。”

　　西里斯一声不哼地在洞里踱来踱去。“哈利，你离开快迪斯之后有没有发现你的魔杖正在口袋里？”

　　“嗯……”哈利使劲地想，“没有，”他最终想起，“我们去森林之前不会用它。当时我把手放进口袋里，口袋里除了欧米卡尔斯啥也没有了。你的意思是有人变魔法把我的魔杖拿走了？”

　　“很可能。”西里斯说。

　　“温奇没有偷你的魔杖！”荷米恩尖声说。

　　“精灵并不在那盒子里头，当时谁坐在你旁边呢？”西里斯皱了一下眉。

　　“好多人。保加利亚部长……可尼斯。法治……还有马尔夫……”

　　“肯定是马尔夫！”罗恩突然插嘴，他那么大声以致于他的声音在整个洞里回响，鸟嘴巴克不安地摇摇头。“我打包票是梅尔法！”

　　“还有别的什么人吗？”西里斯问。

　　“没有了。”哈利答。

　　“还有露得。巴格蒙。”荷米恩提醒他。

　　“噢，对……”

　　“我不大认识巴格蒙，只知道他过去曾做过打手。”西里斯还在踱来踱去，“他怎么了？”

　　“还好，”哈利答，“他老想帮我赢男巫比赛。”

　　“是吗？他为什么要那样做呢？”西里斯又皱起眉来。

　　“他说他喜欢我。”哈利说。

　　“唔。”西里斯若有所思。

　　“我们在森林里看见他，就在黑色标记出现之前。”荷米恩告诉西里斯，“记得吗？”她又对哈利和罗恩说。

　　“是，但他没留在森林里呀！”罗恩说，“我们一告诉他暴乱的事，他就赶回营地。”

　　“你怎么知道？”荷米恩反唇相讥，“你怎么知道他往哪里消失了呢？”

　　“你是在说露得。巴格蒙在用魔法迷惑黑色标记吗？”罗恩不大相信的说。

　　“巴格蒙比温奇更有可能。”荷米恩固执地说。

　　罗恩看了看西里斯说：“她给精灵困挠着——”

　　但西里斯举起一只手不让罗恩说下去，“标记被遮住时，精灵已被发现正拿着哈利的魔杖，这时克劳斯怎么做？”

　　“他去灌木丛里看，但没有其他人在。”哈利说。

　　“当然，”西里斯低声说，“他想钉住所有的人，除了他自己的精灵……接着他抓住她吗？”

　　“对，”荷米恩火上来了，“他抓住她，只因为她不乖乖地留在帐篷里而出来被人蹂躏。”

　　“荷米恩，拜托你不要再讲精灵的事了。”罗恩说。

　　但西里斯摇摇头说：“她看克劳斯比你准，罗恩，如果你想知道一个人是啥模样的，只要看他怎么对待地位比他低的人，而不是与他平等的人。”他用手抚摸着没刮胡子的脸，努力地思考着。“克劳斯缺席很多。他让他的精灵帮他占了一个座位看快迪斯世界杯大赛，但他又不出现去看。他很努力让男巫比赛恢复，自己却不去看。这不太像克劳斯，如果他有一天因病请假的话，我就吃了鸟嘴巴克。”

　　“你原来就认识克劳斯吗？”哈利问。

　　西里斯阴下脸。他突然变得像哈利第一次见到他那时那么险恶