Chapter 21 The Eye Of The Snake

Hermione ploughed her way back to Hagrid's cabin through two feet of snow on Sunday morning. Harry and Ron wanted to go with her, but their mountain of homework had reached an alarming height again, so they remained grudgingly in the common room, Tying to ignore the gleeful shouts drifting up from the grounds outside, where students were enjoying themselves skating on the frozen lake, tobogganing and, worst of all, bewitching snowballs to zoom up to Gryffindor Tower and rap hard on the windows.

‘Oi!’ bellowed Ron, finally losing patience and sticking his head out of the window, ‘I am a prefect and if one more snowball hits this window—OUCH!’

He withdrew his head sharply, his face covered in snow.

‘It's Fred and George,’ he said bitterly, slamming the window behind him. ‘Gits ...’

Hermione returned from Hagrid's just before lunch, shivering slightly, her robes damp to the knees.

‘So?’ said Ron, looking up when she entered. ‘Got all his lessons planned for him?’

‘Well, I tried,’ she said dully, sinking into a chair beside Harry. She pulled out her wand and gave it a complicated little wave so that hot air streamed out of the tip; she then pointed this at her robes, which began to steam as they dried out. ‘He wasn't even there when I arrived, I was knocking for at least half an hour. And then he came stumping out of the Forest—’

Harry groaned. The Forbidden Forest was teeming with the kind of creatures most likely to get Hagrid the sack. ‘What's he keeping in there? Did he say?’ he asked.

‘No,’ said Hermione miserably. ‘He says he wants them to be a surprise. I tried to explain about Umbridge, but he just doesn't get it. He kept saying nobody in their right mind would rather study Knarls than Chimaeras—oh, I don't think he's got a Chimaera,’ she added at the appalled look on Harry and Ron's faces, ‘but that's not for lack of trying, from what he said about how hard it is to get eggs. I don't know how many times I told him he'd be better off following Grubbly-Plank's plan, I honestly don't think he listened to half of what I said. He's in a bit of a funny mood, you know. He still won't say how he got all those injuries.’

Hagrid's reappearance at the staff table at breakfast next day was not greeted by enthusiasm from all students. Some, like Fred, George and Lee, roared with delight and sprinted up the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables to wring Hagrid's enormous hand; others, like Parvati and Lavender, exchanged gloomy looks and shook their heads. Harry knew that many of them preferred Professor Grubbly-Planks lessons, and the worst of it was that a very small, unbiased part of him knew that they had good reason: Grubbly-Plank's idea of an interesting class was not one where there was a risk that somebody might have their head ripped off.

It was with a certain amount of apprehension that Harry, Ron and Hermione headed down to Hagrid's on Tuesday, heavily muffled against the cold. Harry was worried, not only about what Hagrid might have decided to teach them, but also about how the rest of the class, particularly Malfoy and his cronies, would behave if Umbridge was watching them.

However, the High Inquisitor was nowhere to be seen as they struggled through the snow towards Hagrid, who stood waiting for them on the edge of the Forest. He did not present a reassuring sight; the bruises that had been purple on Saturday night were now tinged with green and yellow and some of his cuts still seemed to be bleeding. Harry could not understand this: had Hagrid perhaps been attacked by some creature whose venom prevented the wounds it inflicted from healing? As though to complete the ominous picture, Hagrid was carrying what looked like half a dead cow over his shoulder.

‘We're workin’ in here today!’ Hagrid called happily to the approaching students, jerking his head back at the dark trees behind him. ‘Bit more sheltered! Anyway, they prefer the dark.’

‘What prefers the dark?’ Harry heard Malfoy say sharply to Crabbe and Goyle, a trace of panic in his voice. ‘What did he say prefers the dark—did you hear?’

Harry remembered the only other occasion on which Malfoy had entered the Forest before now; he had not been very brave then, either. He smiled to himself; after the Quidditch match anything that caused Malfoy discomfort was all right with him.

‘Ready?’ said Hagrid cheerfully, looking around at the class. ‘Right, well, I've bin savin’ a trip inter the Forest fer yer fifth year. Thought we'd go an’ see these creatures in their natural habitat. Now, what we're studyin’ today is pretty rare, I reckon I'm probably the on'y person in Britain who's managed ter train ‘em.’

‘And you're sure they're trained, are you?’ said Malfoy, the panic in his voice even more pronounced. ‘Only it wouldn't be the first time you'd brought wild stuff to class, would it?’

The Slytherins murmured agreement and a few Gryffindors looked as though they thought Malfoy had a fair point, too.

‘Course they're trained,’ said Hagrid, scowling and hoisting the dead cow a little higher on his shoulder.

‘So what happened to your face, then?’ demanded Malfoy.

‘Mind yer own business!’ said Hagrid, angrily. ‘Now, if yeh've finished askin’ stupid questions, follow me!’

He turned and strode straight into the Forest. Nobody seemed much disposed to follow. Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, who sighed but nodded, and the three of them set off after Hagrid, leading the rest of the class.

They walked for about ten minutes until they reached a place where the trees stood so closely together that it was as dark as twilight and there was no snow at all on the ground. With a grunt, Hagrid deposited his half a cow on the ground, stepped back and turned to face his class, most of whom were creeping from tree to tree towards him, peering around nervously as though expecting to be set upon at any moment.

‘Gather roun', gather roun',’ Hagrid encouraged. ‘Now, they'll be attracted by the smell ‘o the meat but I'm going ter give em a call anyway, ‘cause they'll like ter know it's me.’

He turned, shook his shaggy head to get the hair out of his face and gave an odd, shrieking cry that echoed through the dark trees like the call of some monstrous bird. Nobody laughed: most of them looked too scared to make a sound.

Hagrid gave the shrieking cry again. A minute passed in which the class continued to peer nervously over their shoulders and around trees for a first glimpse of whatever it was that was coming. And then, as Hagrid shook his hair back for a third lime and expanded his enormous chest, Harry nudged Ron and pointed into the black space between two gnarled yew trees.

A pair of blank, white, shining eyes were growing larger through the gloom and a moment later the dragonish face, neck and then skeletal body of a great, black, winged horse emerged from the darkness. It surveyed the class for a few seconds, swishing its long black tail, then bowed its head and began to tear flesh from the dead cow with its pointed fangs.

A great wave of relief broke over Harry. Here at last was proof that he had not imagined these creatures, that they were real: Hagrid knew about them too. He looked eagerly at Ron, but Ron was still staring around into the trees and after a few seconds he whispered, ‘Why doesn't Hagrid call again?’

Most of the rest of the class were wearing expressions as confused and nervously expectant as Ron's and were still gazing everywhere but at the horse standing feet from them. There were only two other people who seemed to be able to see them: a stringy Slytherin boy standing just behind Goyle was watching the horse eating with an expression of great distaste on his face; and Neville, whose eyes were following the swishing progress of the long black tail.

‘Oh, an’ here comes another one!’ said Hagrid proudly, as a second black horse appeared out of the dark trees, folded its leathery-wings closer to its body and dipped its head to gorge on the meat. ‘Now ... put yer hands up, who can see ‘em?’

Immensely pleased to feel that he was at last going to understand the mystery of these horses, Harry raised his hand. Hagrid nodded at him.

‘Yeah ... yeah, I knew you'd be able ter, Harry,’ he said seriously. ‘An’ you too, Neville, eh? An'—’

‘Excuse me,’ said Malfoy in a sneering voice, ‘but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?’

For an answer, Hagrid pointed at the cow carcass on the ground. The whole class stared at it for a few seconds, then several people gasped and Parvati squealed. Harry understood why: bits of flesh stripping themselves away from the bones and vanishing into thin air had to look very odd indeed.

‘What's doing it?’ Parvati demanded in a terrified voice, retreating behind the nearest tree. ‘What's eating it?’

‘Thestrals,’ said Hagrid proudly and Hermione gave a soft ‘Oh!’ of comprehension at Harry's shoulder. ‘Hogwarts has got a whole herd of ‘em in here. Now, who knows —?’

‘But they're really, really unlucky!’ interrupted Parvati, looking alarmed. ‘They're supposed to bring all sorts of horrible misfortune on people who see them. Professor Trelawney told me once—’

‘No, no, no,’ said Hagrid, chuckling, ‘tha's jus’ superstition, that is, they aren’ unlucky, they're dead clever an’ useful! Course, this lot don’ get a lot o’ work, it's mainly jus’ pullin’ the school carriages unless Dumbledore's takin’ a long journey an’ don’ want ter Apparate—an’ here's another couple, look—’

Two more horses came quietly out of the trees, one of them passing very close to Parvati, who shivered and pressed herself closer to the tree, saying, ‘I think I felt something, I think it's near me!’

‘Don’ worry, it won’ hurt yeh,’ said Hagrid patiently. ‘Righ', now, who can tell me why some o’ yeh can see ‘em an’ some can't?’

Hermione raised her hand.

‘Go on then,’ said Hagrid, beaming at her.

‘The only people who can see Thestrals,’ she said, ‘are people who have seen death.’

‘Tha's exactly right,’ said Hagrid solemnly, ‘ten points ter Gryffindor. Now, Thestrals—’

‘Hem, hem.’

Professor Umbridge had arrived. She was standing a few feet away from Harry, wearing her green hat and cloak again, her clipboard at the ready. Hagrid. who had never heard Umbridge's fake cough before, was gazing in some concern at the closest Thestral, evidently under the impression that it had made the sound.

‘Hem, hem.’

‘Oh, hello!’ Hagrid said, smiling, having located the source of the noise.

‘You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?’ said Umbridge, in the same loud, slow voice she had used with him earlier, as though she were addressing somebody both foreign and very slow. ‘Telling you that I would be inspecting your lesson?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Hagrid brightly. ‘Glad yeh found the place all righ'! Well, as you can see— or, I dunno—can you? We're doin’ Thestrals today—’

‘I'm sorry?’ said Professor Umbridge loudly, cupping her hand around her ear and frowning. ‘What did you say?’

Hagrid looked a little confused.

‘Er—Thestrals!’ he said loudly. ‘Big—er—winged horses, yeh know!’

He flapped his gigantic arms hopefully. Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows at him and muttered as she made a note on her clipboard: ‘Has ... to ... resort ... to ... crude ... sign ... language.’

‘Well ... anyway ...’ said Hagrid, turning back to the class and looking slightly flustered, ‘erm ... what was I sayin?’

‘Appears ... to ... have ... poor ... short ... term ... memory,’ muttered Umbridge, loudly enough for everyone to hear her. Draco Malfoy looked as though Christmas had come a month early; Hermione, on the other hand, had turned scarlet with suppressed rage.

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Hagrid, throwing an uneasy glance at Umbridge's clipboard, but ploughing on valiantly. ‘Yeah, I was gonna tell yeh how come we got a herd. Yeah, so, we started off with a male an’ five females. This one,’ he patted the first horse to have appeared, ‘name o’ Tenebrus, he's my special favourite, firs’ one born here in the Forest—’

‘Are you aware,’ Umbridge said loudly, interrupting him, ‘that the Ministry of Magic has classified Thestrals as “dangerous"?’

Harry's heart sank like a stone, but Hagrid merely chuckled.

‘Thestrals aren’ dangerous! All righ', they might take a bite outta yeh if yeh really annoy them —’

‘Shows ... signs ... of... pleasure ... at ... idea ... of... violence,’ muttered Umbridge, scribbling on her clipboard again.

‘No—come on!’ said Hagrid, looking a little anxious now. ‘I mean, a dog'll bite if yeh bait it, won’ it—but Thestrals have jus’ got a bad reputation because o’ the death thing—people used ter think they were bad omens, didn’ they? Jus’ didn’ understand, did they?’

Umbridge did not answer; she finished writing her last note, then looked up at Hagrid and said, again very loudly and slowly, ‘Please continue teaching as usual. I am going to walk,’ she mimed walking (Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were having silent fits of laughter) ‘among the students’ (she pointed around at individual members of the class) ‘and ask them questions.’ She pointed at her mouth to indicate talking.

Hagrid stared at her, clearly at a complete loss to understand why she was acting as though he did not understand normal English. Hermione had tears of fury in her eyes now.

‘You hag, you evil hag!’ she whispered, as Umbridge walked towards Pansy Parkinson. ‘I know what you're doing, you awiul, twisted, vicious—’

‘Erm ... anyway,’ said Hagrid, clearly struggling to regain the flow of his lesson, ‘so —Thestrals. Yeah. Well, there's loads o’ good stuff abou’ them ...’

‘Do you find,’ said Professor Umbridge in a ringing voice to Pansy Parkinson, ‘that you are able to understand Professor Hagrid when he talks?’

Just like Hermione, Pansy had tears in her eyes, but these were tears of laughter; indeed, her answer was almost incoherent because she was trying to suppress her giggles.

‘No ... because ... well ... it sounds ... like grunting a lot of the time ...’

Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. The few unbruised bits of Hagrid's face flushed, but he tried to act as though he had not heard Pansy's answer.

‘Er ... yeah ... good stuff abou’ Thestrals. Well, once they're tamed, like this lot, yeh'll never be lost again. ‘Mazin’ sense o’ direction, jus’ tell ‘em where yeh want ter go—’

‘Assuming they can understand you, of course,’ said Malfoy loudly, and Pansy Parkinson collapsed in a fit of renewed giggles. Professor Umbridge smiled indulgently at them and then turned to Neville.

‘You can see the Thestrals, Longbottom, can you?’ she said.

Neville nodded.

‘Who did you see die?’ she asked, her tone indifferent.

‘My ... my grandad,’ said Neville.

‘And what do you think of them?’ she said, waving her stubby hand at the horses, who by now had stripped a great deal of the carcass down to bone.

‘Erm,’ said Neville nervously, with a glance at Hagrid. ‘Well, they're ... er ... OK ...’

‘Students ... are ... too ... intimidated ... to ... admit ... they ... are ... frightened,’ muttered Umbridge, making another note on her clipboard.

‘No!’ said Neville, looking upset. ‘No, I'm not scared of them!’

‘It's quite all right,’ said Umbridge, patting Neville on the shoulder with what she evidently intended to be an understanding smile, though it looked more like a leer to Harry. ‘Well, Hagrid,’ she turned to look up at him again, speaking once more in that loud, slow voice, ‘I think I've got enough to be getting along with. You will receive’ (she mimed taking something from the air in front of her) ‘the results of your inspection’ (she pointed at the clipboard) ‘in ten days’ time.’ She held up ten stubby little fingers, then, her smile wider and more toadlike than ever before beneath her green hat, she bustled from their midst, leaving Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson in fits of laughter, Hermione actually shaking with fury and Neville looking confused and upset.

‘That foul, lying, twisting old gargoyle!’ stormed Hermione half an hour later, as they made their way back up to the castle through the channels they had made earlier in the snow. ‘You see what she's up to? It's her thing about half-breeds all over again—she's trying to make out Hagrid's some kind of dimwitted troll, just because he had a giantess for a mother—and oh, it's not fair, that really wasn't a bad lesson at all—I mean, all right, if it had been Blast-Ended Skrewts again, but Thestrals are fine—in fact, for Hagrid, they're really good!’

‘Umbridge said they're dangerous,’ said Ron.

‘Well, it's like Hagrid said, they can look after themselves,’ said Hermione impatiently, ‘and I suppose a teacher like Grubbly-Plank wouldn't usually show them to us before NEWT level, but, well, they are very interesting, aren't they? The way some people can see them and some can't! I wish I could.’

‘Do you?’ Harry asked her quietly.

She looked suddenly horrorstruck.

‘Oh, Harry—I'm sorry—no, of course I don't—that was a really stupid thing to say.’

‘It's OK,’ he said quickly, ‘don't worry’

‘I'm surprised so many people could see them,’ said Ron. ‘Three in a class—’

‘Yeah, Weasley, we were just wondering,’ said a malicious voice. Unheard by any of them in the muffling snow, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were walking along right behind them. ‘D'you reckon if you saw someone snuff it you'd be able to see the Quaffle better?’

He, Crabbe and Goyle roared with laughter as they pushed past on their way to the castle, then broke into a chorus of ‘Weasley is our King'. Ron's ears turned scarlet.

‘Ignore them, just ignore them,’ intoned Hermione, pulling out her wand and performing the charm to produce hot air again, so that she could melt them an easier path through the untouched snow between them and the greenhouses.

December arrived, bringing with it more snow and a positive avalanche of homework for the fifth-years. Ron and Hermione's prefect duties also became more and more onerous as Christmas approached. They were called upon to supervise the decoration of the castle ('You try putting up tinsel when Peeves has got the other end and is trying to strangle you with it,’ said Ron), to watch over first- and second-years spending their break-times inside because of the bitter cold ('And they're cheeky little snot-rags, you know, we definitely weren't that rude when we were in first year,’ said Ron) and to patrol the corridors in shifts with Argus Filch, who suspected that the holiday spirit might show itself in an outbreak of wizard duels ('He's got dung for brains, that one,’ said Ron furiously). They were so busy that Hermione had even stopped knitting elf hats and was fretting that she was down to her last three.

‘All those poor elves I haven't set free yet, having to stay here over Christmas because there aren't enough hats!’

Harry, who had not had the heart to tell her that Dobby was taking everything she made, bent lower over his History of Magic essay. In any case, he did not want to think about Christmas. For the first time in his school career, he very much wanted to spend the holidays away from Hogwarts. Between his Quidditch ban and worry about whether or not Hagrid was going to be put on probation, he felt highly resentful towards the place at the moment. The only thing he really looked forward to were the DA meetings, and they would have to stop over the holidays, as nearly everybody in the DA would be spending the time with their families. Hermione was going skiing with her parents, something that greatly amused Ron, who had never heard of Muggles strapping narrow strips of wood on to their feet to slide down mountains. Ron was going home to The Burrow. Harry endured several days of envy before Ron said, in response to Harry asking him how he was going to get home for Christmas: ‘But you're coming too! Didn't I say? Mum wrote and told me to invite you weeks ago!’

Hermione rolled her eyes, but Harry's spirits soared: the thought of Christmas at The Burrow was truly wonderful, though slightly marred by Harry's guilty feeling that he would not be able to spend the holiday with Sirius. He wondered whether he could possibly persuade Mrs. Weasley to invite his godfather for the festivities. Even though he doubted whether Dumbledore would permit Sirius to leave Grimmauld Place anyway, he could not help but think Mrs. Weasley might not want him; they were so often at loggerheads. Sirius had not contacted Harry at all since his last appearance in the fire, and although Harry knew that with Umbridge on constant watch it would be unwise to attempt to contact him, he did not like to think of Sirius alone in his mother's old house, perhaps pulling a lonely cracker with Kreacher.

Harry arrived early in the Room of Requirement for the last DA meeting before the holidays and was very glad he had, because when the torches burst into flame he saw that Dobby had taken it upon himself to decorate the place for Christmas. He could tell the elf had done it, because nobody else would have strung a hundred golden baubles from the ceiling, each showing a picture of Harry's face and bearing the legend: ‘HAVE A VERY HARRY CHRISTMAS!’

Harry had only just managed to get the last of them down before the door creaked open and Luna Lovegood entered, looking as dreamy as usual.

‘Hello,’ she said vaguely, looking around at what remained of the decorations. ‘These are nice, did you put them up?’

‘No,’ said Harry, ‘it was Dobby the house-elf.’

‘Mistletoe,’ said Luna dreamily, pointing at a large clump of white berries placed almost over Harry's head. He jumped out from under it. ‘Good thinking,’ said Luna very seriously. ‘It's often infested with Nargles.’

Harry was saved the necessity of asking what Nargles are by the arrival of Angelina, Katie and Alicia. All three of them were breathless and looked very cold.

‘Well,’ said Angelina dully, pulling off her cloak and throwing it into a corner, ‘we've finally replaced you.’

‘Replaced me?’ said Harry blankly.

‘You and Fred and George,’ she said impatiently. ‘We've got another Seeker!’

‘Who?’ said Harry quickly.

‘Ginny Weasley,’ said Katie.

Harry gaped at her.

‘Yeah, I know,’ said Angelina, pulling out her wand and flexing her arm, ‘but she's pretty good, actually. Nothing on you, of course,’ she said, throwing him a very dirty look, ‘but as we can't have you ...’

Harry bit back the retort he was longing to utter: did she imagine for a second that he did not regret his expulsion from the team a hundred times more than she did?

‘And what about the Beaters? he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

‘Andrew Kirke,’ said Alicia without enthusiasm, ‘and Jack Sloper. Neither of them are brilliant, but compared to the rest of the idiots who turned up ...’

The arrival of Ron, Hermione and Neville brought this depressing discussion to an end, and within five minutes the room was full enough to prevent Harry seeing Angelina's burning, reproachful looks.

‘OK,’ he said, calling them all to order. ‘I thought this evening we should just go over the things we've done so far, because it's the last meeting before the holidays and there's no point starting anything new right before a three-week break—’

‘We're not doing anything new?’ said Zacharias Smith, in a disgruntled whisper loud enough to carry through the room. ‘If I'd known that, I wouldn't have come.’

‘We're all really sorry Harry didn't tell you, then,’ said Fred loudly.

Several people sniggered. Harry saw Cho laughing and felt the familiar swooping sensation in his stomach, as though he had missed a step going downstairs.

‘—we can practise in pairs,’ said Harry. ‘We'll start with the Impediment Jinx, for ten minutes, then we can get out the cushions and try Stunning again.’

They all divided up obediently; Harry partnered Neville as usual. The room was soon full of intermittent cries of ‘Impedimenta!’ People froze for a minute or so, during which their partner would stare aimlessly around the room watching other pairs at work, then would unfreeze and take their turn at the jinx.

Neville had improved beyond all recognition. After a while, when Harry had unfrozen three times in a row, he had Neville join Ron and Hermione again so that he could walk around the room and watch the others. When he passed Cho she beamed at him; he resisted the temptation to walk past her several more times.

After ten minutes on the Impediment Jinx, they laid out cushions all over the floor and started practising Stunning again. Space was really too confined to allow them all to work this spell at once; half the group observed the others for a while, then swapped over.

Harry felt himself positively swelling with pride as he watched them all. True, Neville did Stun Padma Patil rather than Dean, at whom he had been aiming, but it was a much closer miss than usual, and everybody else had made enormous progress.

At the end of an hour, Harry called a halt.

‘You're getting really good,’ he said, beaming around at them. ‘When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some of the big stuff—maybe even Patronuses.’

There was a murmur of excitement. The room began to clear in the usual twos and threes; most people wished Harry a ‘Happy Christmas’ as they went. Feeling cheerful, he collected up the cushions with Ron and Hermione and stacked them neatly away. Ron and Hermione left before he did; he hung back a little, because Cho was still there and he was hoping to receive a ‘Merry Christmas’ from her.

‘No, you go on,’ he heard her say to her friend Marietta and his heart gave a jolt that seemed to take it into the region of his Adam's apple.

He pretended to be straightening the cushion pile. He was quite sure they were alone now and waited for her to speak. Instead, he heard a hearty sniff.

He turned and saw Cho standing in the middle of the room, tears pouring down her face.

‘Wha—?’

He didn't know what to do. She was simply standing there, crying silently.

‘What's up?’ he said, feebly.

She shook her head and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

‘I'm—sorry,’ she said thickly. ‘I suppose ... it's just ... learning all this stuff ... it just makes me ... wonder whether ... if he'd known it all ... he'd still be alive.’

Harry's heart sank right back past its usual spot and settled somewhere around his navel. He ought to have known. She wanted to talk about Cedric.

‘He did know this stuff,’ Harry said heavily. ‘He was really good at it, or he could never have got to the middle of that maze. But if Voldemort really wants to kill you, you don't stand a chance.’

She hiccoughed at the sound of Voldemort's name, but stared at Harry without flinching.

‘You survived when you were just a baby,’ she said quietly.

‘Yeah, well,’ said Harry wearily, moving towards the door, ‘I dunno why, nor does anyone else, so it's nothing to be proud of.’

‘Oh, don't go!’ said Cho, sounding tearful again. ‘I'm really sorry to get all upset like this ... I didn't mean to ...’

She hiccoughed again. She was very pretty even when her eyes were red and puffy. Harry felt thoroughly miserable. He'd have been so pleased with just a ‘Merry Christmas'.

‘I know it must be horrible for you,’ she said, mopping her eyes on her sleeve again. ‘Me mentioning Cedric, when you saw him die ... I suppose you just want to forget about it?’

Harry did not say anything to this; it was quite true, but he felt heartless saying it.

‘You're a r-really good teacher, you know,’ said Cho, with a watery smile. ‘I've never been able to Stun anything before.’

‘Thanks,’ said Harry awkwardly.

They looked at each other for a long moment. Harry felt a burning desire to run from the room and, at the same time, a complete inability to move his feet.

‘Mistletoe,’ said Cho quietly, pointing at the ceiling over his head.

‘Yeah,’ said Harry. His mouth was very dry. ‘It's probably full of Nargles, though.’

‘What are Nargles?’

‘No idea,’ said Harry. She had moved closer. His brain seemed to have been Stunned. ‘You'd have to ask Loony. Luna, I mean.’

Cho made a funny noise halfway between a sob and a laugh. She was even nearer to him now. He could have counted the freckles on her nose.

‘I really like you, Harry.’

He could not think. A tingling sensation was spreading through him, paralysing his arms, legs and brain.

She was much too close. He could see every tear clinging to her eyelashes ...

He returned to the common room half an hour later to find Hermione and Ron in the best seats by the fire; nearly everybody else had gone to bed. Hermione was writing a very long letter; she had already filled half a roll of parchment, which was dangling from the edge of the table. Ron was lying on the hearthrug, trying to finish his Transfiguration homework.

‘What kept you?’ he asked, as Harry sank into the armchair next to Hermione's.

Harry didn't answer. He was in a state of shock. Half of him wanted to tell Ron and Hermione what had just happened, but the other half wanted to take the secret with him to the grave.

‘Are you all right, Harry?’ Hermione asked, peering at him over the tip of her quill.

Harry gave a half-hearted shrug. In truth, he didn't know whether he was all right or not. ‘What's up?’ said Ron, hoisting himself up on his elbow to get a clearer view of Harry. ‘What's happened?’

Harry didn't quite know how to set about telling them, and still wasn't sure whether he wanted to. Just as he had decided not to say anything, Hermione took matters out of his hands.

‘Is it Cho?’ she asked in a businesslike way. ‘Did she corner you after the meeting?’

Numbly surprised, Harry nodded. Ron sniggered, breaking off when Hermione caught his eye.

‘So—er—what did she want?’ he asked in a mock casual voice.

‘She—’ Harry began, rather hoarsely, he cleared his throat and tried again. ‘She—er—’

‘Did you kiss?’ asked Hermione briskly.

Ron sat up so fast he sent his ink bottle flying all over the rug. Disregarding this completely, he stared avidly at Harry.

‘Well?’ he demanded.

Harry looked from Ron's expression of mingled curiosity and hilarity to Hermione's slight frown, and nodded.

‘HA!’

Ron made a triumphant gesture with his fist and went into a raucous peal of laughter that made several timid-looking second-years over beside the window jump. A reluctant grin spread over Harry's face as he watched Ron rolling around on the hearthrug.

Hermione gave Ron a look or deep disgust and returned to her letter.

‘Well?’ Ron said finally, looking up at Harry. ‘How was it?’

Harry considered for a moment.

‘Wet,’ he said truthfully.

Ron made a noise that might have indicated jubilation or disgust, it was hard to tell.

‘Because she was crying,’ Harry continued heavily.

‘Oh,’ said Ron, his smile fading slightly. ‘Are you that bad at kissing?’

‘Dunno,’ said Harry, who hadn't considered this, and immediately felt rather worried. ‘Maybe I am.’

‘Of course you're not,’ said Hermione absently, still scribbling away at her letter.

‘How do you know?’ said Ron very sharply.

‘Because Cho spends half her time crying these days,’ said Hermione vaguely. ‘She does it at mealtimes, in the loos, all over the place.’

‘You'd think a bit of kissing would cheer her up,’ said Ron, grinning.

‘Ron,’ said Hermione in a dignified voice, dipping the point of her quill into her inkpot, ‘you are the most insensitive wart I have ever had the misfortune to meet.’

‘What's that supposed to mean?’ said Ron indignantly. ‘What sort of person cries while someone's kissing them?’

‘Yeah,’ said Harry, slightly desperately, ‘who does?’

Hermione looked at the pair of them with an almost pitying expression on her face.

‘Don't you understand how Cho's feeling at the moment?’ she asked.

‘No,’ said Harry and Ron together.

Hermione sighed and laid down her quill.

‘Well, obviously, she's feeling very sad, because of Cedric dying. Then I expect she's feeling confused because she liked Cedric and now she likes Harry, and she can't work out who she likes best. Then she'll be feeling guilty, thinking it's an insult to Cedric's memory to be kissing Harry at all, and she'll be worrying about what everyone else might say about her if she starts going out with Harry. And she probably can't work out what her feelings towards Harry are, anyway, because he was the one who was with Cedric when Cedric died, so that's all very mixed up and painful. Oh, and she's afraid she's going to be thrown off the Ravenclaw Quidditch team because she's been flying so badly.’

A slightly stunned silence greeted the end of this speech, then Ron said, ‘One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode.’

‘Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have,’ said Hermione nastily, picking up her quill again.

‘She was the one who started it,’ said Harry. ‘I wouldn't've—she just sort of came at me—and next thing she's crying all over me—I didn't know what to do—’

‘Don't blame you, mate,’ said Ron, looking alarmed at the very thought.

‘You just had to be nice to her,’ said Hermione, looking up anxiously. ‘You were, weren't you?’

‘Well,’ said Harry, an unpleasant heat creeping up his face, ‘I sort of—patted her on the back a bit.’

Hermione looked as though she was restraining herself from rolling her eyes with extreme difficulty.

‘Well, I suppose it could have been worse,’ she said. ‘Are you going to see her again?’

‘I'll have to, won't I?’ said Harry. ‘We've got DA meetings, haven't we?’

‘You know what I mean,’ said Hermione impatiently.

Harry said nothing. Hermione's words opened up a whole new vista of frightening possibilities. He tried to imagine going somewhere with Cho—Hogsmeade, perhaps—and being alone with her for hours at a time. Of course, she would have been expecting him to ask her out after what had just happened ... the thought made his stomach clench painfully.

‘Oh well,’ said Hermione distantly, buried in her letter once more, ‘you'll have plenty of opportunities to ask her.’

‘What if he doesn't want to ask her?’ said Ron, who had been watching Harry with an unusually shrewd expression on his face.

‘Don't be silly,’ said Hermione vaguely, ‘Harry's liked her for ages, haven't you, Harry?’

He did not answer. Yes, he had liked Cho for ages, but whenever he had imagined a scene involving the two of them it had always featured a Cho who was enjoying herself, as opposed to a Cho who was sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder.

‘Who're you writing the novel to, anyway?’ Ron asked Hermione, trying to read the bit of parchment now trailing on the floor. Hermione hitched it up out of sight.

‘Viktor.’

‘Krum?’

‘How many other Viktors do we know?’

Ron said nothing, but looked disgruntled. They sat in silence for another twenty minutes, Ron finishing his Transfiguration essay with many snorts of impatience and crossings-out, Hermione writing steadily to the very end of the parchment, rolling it up carefully and sealing it, and Harry staring into the fire, wishing more than anything that Sirius's head would appear there and give him some advice about girls. But the fire merely crackled lower and lower, until the red-hot embers crumbled into ash and, looking around, Harry saw that they were, yet again, the last ones in the common room.

‘Well, night,’ said Hermione, yawning widely as she set off up the girls’ staircase.

‘What does she see in Krum?’ Ron demanded, as he and Harry climbed the boys’ stairs.

‘Well,’ said Harry, considering the matter, ‘I s'pose he's older, isn't he ... and he's an international Quidditch player ...’

‘Yeah, but apart from that,’ said Ron, sounding aggravated. ‘I mean, he's a grouchy git, isn't he?’

‘Bit grouchy, yeah,’ said Harry, whose thoughts were still on Cho.

They pulled off their robes and put on pyjamas in silence; Dean, Seamus and Neville were already asleep. Harry put his glasses on his bedside table and got into bed but did not pull the hangings closed around his four-poster; instead, he stared at the patch of starry sky visible through the window next to Neville's bed. If he had known, this time last night, that in twenty-four hours’ time he would have kissed Cho Chang ...

‘Night,’ grunted Ron, from somewhere to his right.

‘Night,’ said Harry.

Maybe next time ... if there was a next time ... she'd be a bit happier. He ought to have asked her out; she had probably been expecting it and was now really angry with him ... or was she lying in bed, still crying about Cedric? He did not know what to think. Hermione's explanation had made it all seem more complicated rather than easier to understand.

That's what they should teach us here, he thought, turning over on to his side, how girls’ brains work ... it'd be more useful than Divination, anyway ...

Neville snuffled in his sleep. An owl hooted somewhere out in the night.

Harry dreamed he was back in the DA room. Cho was accusing him of luring her there under false pretences; she said he had promised her a hundred and fifty Chocolate Frog Cards if she showed up. Harry protested ... Cho shouted, ‘Cedric gave me loads of Chocolate Frog Cards, look!’ And she pulled out fistfuls of Cards from inside her robes and threw them into the air. Then she turned into Hermione, who said, ‘You did promise her, you know, Harry ... I think you'd better give her something else instead ... how about your Firebolt?’ And Harry was protesting that he could not give Cho his Firebolt, because Umbridge had it, and anyway the whole thing was ridiculous, he'd only come to the DA room to put up some Christmas baubles shaped like Dobby's head ...

The dream changed ...

His body felt smooth, powerful and flexible. He was gliding between shining metal bars, across dark, cold stone ... he was flat against the floor, sliding along on his belly ... it was dark, yet he could see objects around him shimmering in strange, vibrant colours ... he was turning his head ... at first glance the corridor was empty ... but no ... a man was sitting on the floor ahead, his chin drooping on to his chest, his outline gleaming in the dark ...

Harry put out his tongue ... he tasted the man's scent on the air ... he was alive but drowsy ... sitting in front of a door at the end of the corridor ..

Harry longed to bite the man ... but he must master the impulse ... he had more important work to do ...

But the man was stirring ... a silver Cloak fell from his legs as he jumped to his feet; and Harry saw his vibrant, blurred outline towering above him, saw a wand withdrawn from a belt ... he had no choice ... he reared high from the floor and struck once, twice, three times, plunging his fangs deeply into the man's flesh, feeling his ribs splinter beneath his jaws, feeling the warm gush of blood ...

The man was yelling in pain ... then he fell silent ... he slumped backwards against the wall ... blood was splattering on to the floor ...

His forehead hurt terribly ... it was aching fit to burst ...

‘Harry! HARRY!’

He opened his eyes. Every inch of his body was covered in icy sweat; his bed covers were twisted all around him like a strait-jacket; he felt as though a white-hot poker were being applied to his forehead.

‘Harry!’

Ron was standing over him looking extremely frightened. There were more figures at the foot of Harry's bed. He clutched his head in his hands; the pain was blinding him ... he rolled right over and vomited over the edge of the mattress.

‘He's really ill,’ said a scared voice. ‘Should we call someone?’

‘Harry! Harry!’

He had to tell Ron, it was very important that he tell him ... taking great gulps of air, Harry pushed himself up in bed, willing himself not to throw up again, the pain half-blinding him.

‘Your dad,’ he panted, his chest heaving. ‘Your dad's ... been attacked ...’

‘What?’ said Ron uncomprehendingly.

‘Your dad! He's been bitten, it's serious, there was blood everywhere ...’

‘I'm going for help,’ said the same scared voice, and Harry heard footsteps running out of the dormitory.

‘Harry, mate,’ said Ron uncertainly, ‘you ... you were just dreaming—’

‘No!’ said Harry furiously; it was crucial that Ron understand.

‘It wasn't a dream ... not an ordinary dream ... I was there, I saw it ... I did it ...’

He could hear Seamus and Dean muttering but did not care. The pain in his forehead was subsiding slightly, though he was still sweating and shivering feverishly. He retched again and Ron leapt backwards out of the way.

‘Harry, you're not well,’ he said shakily. ‘Neville's gone for help.’

‘I'm fine!’ Harry choked, wiping his mouth on his pyjamas and shaking uncontrollably. ‘There's nothing wrong with me, it's your dad you've got to worry about—we need to find out where he is—he's bleeding like mad—I was—it was a huge snake.’

He tried to get out of bed but Ron pushed him back into it; Dean and Seamus were still whispering somewhere nearby. Whether one minute passed or ten, Harry did not know; he simply sat there shaking, feeling the pain recede very slowly from his scar ... then there were hurried footsteps coming up the stairs and he heard Neville's voice again.

‘Over here, Professor.’

Professor McGonagall came hurrying into the dormitory in her tartan dressing gown, her glasses perched lopsidedly on the bridge of her bony nose.

‘What is it, Potter? Where does it hurt?’

He had never been so pleased to see her; it was a member of the Order of the Phoenix he needed now, not someone fussing over him and prescribing useless potions.

‘It's Ron's dad,’ he said, sitting up again. ‘He's been attacked by a snake and it's serious, I saw it happen.’

‘What do you mean, you saw it happen?’ said Professor McGonagall, her dark eyebrows contracting.

‘I don't know ... I was asleep and then I was there ...’

‘You mean you dreamed this?’

‘No!’ said Harry angrily; would none of them understand? ‘I was having a dream at first about something completely different, something stupid ... and then this interrupted it. It was real, I didn't imagine it. Mr. Weasley was asleep on the floor and he was attacked by a gigantic snake, there was a load of blood, he collapsed, someone's got to find out where he is ...’

Professor McGonagall was gazing at him through her lopsided spectacles as though horrified at what she was seeing.

‘I'm not lying and I'm not mad!’ Harry told her, his voice rising to a shout. ‘I tell you, I saw it happen!’

‘I believe you, Potter,’ said Professor McGonagall curtly. ‘Put on your dressing gown—we're going to see the Headmaster.’

星期天一早荷米恩踩着两尺深的大雪艰难的向哈格力的小屋走去。哈利和罗恩本想一同前往，可是他们积累如山的作业又达到了令人警惕的高度，所以他们勉强的留在休息室里，试着忽略外面一阵阵欢呼—-同学们正在享受着在冰冻的河上滑冰和玩雪橇的快乐；更恼人的是他们施魔法使雪球不停的飞上格林芬多塔，重重地击打在窗户上。

　　“真烦人！”罗恩低吼，终于失去了耐心，把头伸到窗外，“我可是级长，再有雪球打到这窗户———哎唷！”

　　他立即缩回头，满脸是雪。

　　“是弗莱德和乔治，”他抱怨道，重重地关上身后的窗户，“浑蛋。。。”

　　荷米恩正好在午饭之前从哈格力的小屋回来，微微地颤抖着，袍子膝部以下的部分都湿了。

　　“怎么样？”当她进来的时候，罗恩抬头问道，“把他所有的课都计划好了吗？”

　　“不管怎样，我试过了，”她闷声闷气的答道，一屁股坐进哈里旁边的椅子。她抽出她的魔杖，复杂的挥舞了几下，一阵热气便从魔杖的末端涌出；她把魔杖对着袍子，那袍子就随着水汽的挥发，渐渐干了。“我到的时候他根本不在，我至少敲了半个小时的门，最后才看到他笨拙的从森林里走出来—-”

　　哈利呻吟着：禁林里的生物都很有可能成为哈格力被解雇的原因。 “他在里面养了什么？他有说吗？” 哈利问道。

　　“没，”荷米恩沮丧地回答。“他说他想把他们当作一个惊喜。我试着跟他解释Umbridge，但是他就是不理解。他总说没有正常人会想学变形虫而不去学吐火怪的 —— 哦，我想他不会真的 得到 一只吐火怪，” 看到哈利和罗恩惊骇的表情，她又说道，“从他所说拿蛋的难度，他并不是没有试过。我不知告诉他多少次他最好按照格拉普兰的课程计划，但坦白的说我并不认为他甚至听进了我说的一半。你知道的，他现在在一种古怪的状态。他仍然不肯说到底怎么受了那么多伤。。。” 第二天早餐时，哈格力在教员桌的出现并没有受到全体同学热情欢迎。一些， 像弗莱德，乔治，和 李？乔丹， 高兴地嚷着，在格林芬多和海夫巴夫的桌子间跑过，冲上前去紧紧抓着哈格力的大手；其他人，像Parvati和Lavender，交换了一个阴郁的眼神，摇了摇头。哈利知道很多同学比较喜欢格拉普兰教授的课，最糟的是在他头脑中有一小块但没有偏见的部分知道他们有个合理的理由：格拉普兰的对一节有趣的课的概念是课堂中不会有谁有丢掉脑袋的危险。

　　星期二，带着对哈格力的担忧，哈利，罗恩，和荷米恩一起去找哈格力，厚厚的包裹着来抵抗严寒。哈利担心的不仅仅是哈格力决定教他们什么，还有其余的同学特别是马尔夫一伙人的表现如果Umbridge在场。

　　然而最高检察官却出乎意料的没有现身，当他们艰难的穿过雪地，向站在森林边缘等待他们的哈格力走去的时候。哈格力的出现并不能让他们放心：星期六紫色的淤青现在已经变成淡淡的黄绿色，一些割伤看起来让然像在滴血。哈利不理解：哈格力被某些生物攻击了吗 —— 或许，这种生物的毒液防止伤口愈合。仿佛在赞成这个不吉祥的想象，哈格力肩上似乎扛着半头死牛。

　　“我们今天在这儿上课！”哈格力愉快地告诉前来的学生，示意他身后的黑树林。“更为隐蔽！再说，他们也比较喜欢黑暗。。。”

　　“什么喜欢黑暗？”哈利听见马尔夫尖声问克莱博和高尔，声音中有一点惊慌失措。“他说什么喜欢黑暗 —— 你听见了吗？”

　　哈利记得在这以前唯一一次马尔夫进入森林的时候；他那时候也并不勇敢。他笑了：在魁迪奇比赛之后，任何使马尔夫不舒服的事都令他满意。

　　“准备好了吗？”哈格力巡视同学们一圈，高兴地问道。“好，那么，我为你们的第五年准备了一个进入森林的实地考察旅行。想着我们可以去观察一下这些生物在他们自然的生活环境。现在，我们今天要学习的生物是非常少见的，我认为我可能是英国唯一一位可以驯养它们的人了——”

　　“你确定它们真的被驯服了吗？”马尔夫问，现在他语气中的慌张更明显了。“只是这已经不是第一次你把野生动物带到课堂上来了，是吧？”

　　斯林德林们赞成地嘟哝着，一些格林芬多们看起来也觉得马尔夫说得有点道理。

　　“它们当然被驯服了，”哈格力说，他沉下脸，把肩上的牛抬高了一点。

　　“那，你的脸又是怎么一回事？”马尔夫追问。

　　“管你自己的事儿！”哈格力生气地说。“现在你们已经问完愚蠢的问题了，跟着我走吧！”

　　他转身大步跨进森林。似乎没有人乐意跟他走。哈里瞥了罗恩和荷米恩一眼，叹了一口气，淡淡的点了点头，然后他们三个领着整个班级随着哈格力出发。

　　他们走了大约十分钟，直到他们到达了一个地方，那里的树异常的茂密，暗得像似黄昏，地上也没有一丝血的痕迹。随着一声轻哼，哈格力把那半头牛扔在地上，向后退一步，然后再次面向他的学生，大多数学生都蹑手蹑脚的在树丛之间向他走来，紧张地四处张望，好像在任何时候都会有被攻击的可能。

　　“都过来，都过来，”哈格力鼓励大家。“现在，他们将会被生肉的气味吸引过来，但是我还是先喊他们一声，他们会喜欢先知道这里是我的。。。”

　　他转过身，晃了晃他那毛发蓬松的脑袋，试着甩掉脸上的头发，然后发出了一声奇怪并令人毛骨悚然的叫喊，那喊声在黑树林里产生了回音，像是某些怪异的鸟叫声。没有人在笑，他们像是被吓得发不出声音来。

　　哈格力又发出另一声尖叫。一分钟过去了，同学们仍然紧张地四处观望，试着捕捉前来动物的第一眼。然后，当哈格力第三次把头发甩到后面，扩大胸腔时候，哈利轻轻的推了一下罗恩，指着两颗多瘤的紫杉树之间一片黑色的间隔。

　　一对没有表情的，白色，发光的眼睛，闪着光在黑暗中渐渐变大；不一会，一张凶暴的脸，脖颈，然后一匹带翅膀的黑马的骸骨般的躯体从黑暗中浮现出来。它审视了整个班级几秒钟，甩动着它长长的黑色马尾，然后低着头，开始用它的尖牙把血肉一块块从死牛的身上撕扯下来。

　　哈利觉得一阵安慰。至少这是他没有幻想出这些生物的证据，它们是真的：哈格力也知道它们。他急切地望向罗恩，但是罗恩仍然盯着树林周围，几秒钟后，他低声问，“为什么哈格力不再喊了呢？”

　　大多数同学有着和罗恩一样的表情：困惑又紧张地期待着，他们仍然到处张望却注意不到和他们距离仅有个把尺远的马匹。只有其他两个人看起来能够看到它们：站在高尔后面的一位纤细的斯林德林男孩正在看着那匹马吃食，脸上满是厌恶的神情；还有纳维，他的眼神随着那长长的黑马尾移动。

　　“哦，这又来了另一匹！”哈格力骄傲地说，当第二匹黑马从黑树林里出现，把它皮革般的翅膀合起贴近他的躯体，低下头狼吞虎咽的吃起来。“现在。。。把手举起来，谁可以看得见？”

　　哈利举起他的手，他非常高兴他最终就要明白关于这些马的秘密了。哈格力对他点点头。

　　“对。。。对，我知道你可以看到，哈利，”他严肃地说。“你也可以，纳维，是吧？还有——”

　　“打断一下，”马尔夫用嘲笑的语气说道，“我们到底应该看什么呀？”

　　作为答案，哈格力指着地上牛的尸体。整个班级凝视了几秒，然后一些人惊讶得吸了口气，Parvati细声尖叫。哈利知道为什么：一块块血肉好似自然的从骨头上脱落，然后消失在薄薄的空气里，看起来果然异常古怪。

　　“什么在这样？”Parvati恐惧地问道，躲到离她最近的一棵树后，“什么在吃肉？”

　　“Thestrals,”哈格力骄傲的说，荷米恩越过哈利的肩头发出了一声轻叫，“哦！”表示理解。 “哈格瓦茨这有一大群。现在，谁知道—？” “但是他们是非常，非常不吉祥的！”Parvati打断，样子很警惕。“他们会给看到他们的人带来各种各样的带来厄运的。Profession Trelawney曾告诉我—”

　　“不，不，不，”哈格力轻笑，“那只是迷信，事实是，他们并不是不吉祥的，他们非常聪明而且有用！当然，他们并没有很多工作，他们主要的工作是拉学校的马车，还有当邓布里多不想Apparate去一个遥远的地方的时候—这又来了一对，看—”

　　又有两匹马静静的从树林里走出来，其中一只经过时离Parvati很近，她颤抖着，让自己更贴近树桩，说道，“我想我感觉到了什么，我想它离我很近！”

　　“别担心，她不会伤害你的，”哈格力耐心的说。“好，现在谁能够告诉我为什么有些人看得见而其他人不能呢？”

　　荷米恩举起手。

　　“说吧，”哈格力微笑的说。

　　“唯一可以看见thestral的人，”她说，“是见过死亡的人。”

　　“完全正确，”哈格力严肃地说，“给格林分多加十分。现在，thestrals—”

　　“Hem, hem·”

　　Professor Umbridge来了。她正站在离哈利几尺远的地方，又穿着她绿色的帽子和袍子，她的笔记板已经准备好了。哈格力，以前从来没有听过Umbridge的假咳声，关心的盯着最近的thestral，显然认为它发出了那个响声。

　　“Hem, hem·”

　　“哦你好！”哈格力说，微笑着，找到了声音的来源。

　　“你收到我早晨发到你小屋的条子了吗？”Umbridge说，用像上次一样响亮缓慢的声音，似乎她在和某些外国的，非常迟钝的人说话。“告诉你我将会来视察你的课？”

　　“啊对，”哈格力欢快的说。“真高兴你找到了这个地方！ 那么，就像你所看到的—或，我不知道—你能吗？我们今天学习Thestrals—”

　　“抱歉？”Umbridge大声说，用手在耳边做成杯状，皱着眉。“你说什么？”

　　哈格力看起来有些疑惑。

　　“呃—thestrals！”他大声说。“大的—呃—有翅膀的马，你知道的！”

　　他怀着希望地拍打着他巨大的臂膀。 Professor Umbridge 抬起她的眉毛，一边嘀咕一边在她的笔记板上作笔记， “‘需要。。。求助于。。。拙劣的。。。手语。。。’”

　　“嗯。。。总之。。。”哈格力说，转过身面向他的班级，看起来有一点慌乱狼狈。 “嗯。。。我刚刚说到哪里了？” “‘看起来。。。有。。。很不好的。。。短。。。期。。。记忆力。。。’” Umbridge咕哝，声音大得每个人都听得见。Draco Malfoy 看起来好像圣诞节早到了一个月；荷米恩，正好相反，脸变成猩红色，强忍着愤怒。 “哦，对了，”哈格力说，不自在的瞥了一眼Umbridge的笔记板，困难的继续，“对了，我正要告诉你们为什么我们也有一群。 对，嗯，我们刚开始有一只雄马和五只雌的。这一只，”他拍了拍第一个出现的那只，“叫做Tenebrus, 他是我最喜欢的，是第一个在这座森林里出生的——” “你有没有意识到，”Umbridge，大声的打断他的话，“Ministry Of Magic把thestrals归类为‘危险动物’？”

　　哈里的心像一颗石头一样沉了下去，可是哈格力仅仅笑了笑。

　　“Thestrals不危险！的确，如果你惹怒了他们他们会咬你一口——”

　　“‘一想起。。。暴力。。。就会。。。表现的。。。很高兴。。。’”Umbridge继续边低估边在笔记板上作笔记。

　　“不——真的！”哈格力现在有些着急了。“狗也可以咬人如果你激怒他的话，不会吗——可是thestrals有着不好的名誉仅仅因为死亡的这件事——人们向来认为他们是坏的预兆，不是吗？他们只是不理解，是吧？”

　　Umbridge不 回答；她写她最后的笔记,然后向上看着哈格力说,再一次非常大声地而且慢慢地，“请像往常一样继续上课。我去随便走走。”她做了步行的手势——马尔夫和Pansy Parkinson 偷偷地笑—— “在学生中”——她指指班级的个别成员—— “问他们一些问题。” 她指着嘴表示说话。

　　哈格力盯着她, 显然完全不了解为什麽她的举动像是认为他不 了解正常的英语。现在荷米恩的眼中充满了愤怒的泪水。

　　“女巫 , 你这个邪恶的女巫 ！” 她低声说，当Umbridge向Pansy Parkinson 走去的时候。“我知道你在做什么, 你糟糕丑陋的，变态恶毒的——” “呃。。。总之，”哈格力说，显然在努力恢复他的教学流程， “那么—— thestrals。 是的。 好吧，他们有很多优点。。。。”

　　“你认为，”Umbridge教授用她响亮的声音对Pansy Parkinson说，“当他说话的时候 ， 你能够了解哈格力教授吗？”

　　正如荷米恩，Pansy眼中也有泪滴，但这些是笑的泪滴；的确，因为她试着抑制吃吃的笑声，所以她的答案几乎不连贯。“不。。。。因为。。。。嗯。。。。很多时间听起来像咕哝声。。。。”

　　Umbridge在她的笔记板上潦草地书写着。 哈格力脸上没有淤青的一小部分红了，但是他试着装成好像没有听到Pansy的答案。

　　“呃 …是的…thestrals的优点。 嗯，一旦他们被驯养，像这着些马，你就不会再迷路了。他们有着令人惊异的方向感，只要告诉他们你想到哪里去——” “当然，假定他们能了解你，”马尔夫大声地说，和Pansy Parkinson 笑成一团。 Umbridge教授纵容的对他们微笑着，然后转向 Neville 。 “你能看见 Thestrals, Longbottom,是吗 ？' 她说。 Neville 点头。

　　“你曾经见过谁的死亡？” 她问， 她的语气漠不关心。

　　“我的…我的祖父，” Neville说 。

　　“那你觉得他们如何？”她说，挥动着她粗短的手，向着马群，他们现在已经 把牛的尸体撕扯得只剩骨头了。 “呃,” Neville紧张的说，瞥向哈格力。“嗯，他们。。。呃。。。还好。。。”

　　“‘学生们。。。不敢。。。去。。。承认。。。他们。。。害怕。。。’”Umbridge嘟哝着，在笔记板上写下另一个笔记。

　　“不是的！” Neville 慌乱的说。“不，我不害怕他们——！” “非常好，”安布里奇说着，拍着纳威的肩膀，故意挤出一丝谅解的微笑，虽然它看上去更像是投给哈利的恶意的目光。“好啦，哈格力，”她转过头再一次看向他，又用那种高声的缓慢的嗓音说，“我认为我们接触的足够久了。你会得到（她仿佛要从她面前的空气中拿到什么）你的检查结果（她指着那个记事本）在十天内。”她举起那十个粗短的手指，然后，她的笑容更大了，藏在帽子底下，比以前的任何时候都更像个癞蛤蟆了，她匆忙的从他们中间离去，留下马尔夫和潘西在那儿笑个不停，荷米恩因为狂怒而发抖，而纳威看上去困惑而混乱。

　　“那个邪恶的，撒谎的，变态的老怪物！”荷米恩半个小时后终于爆发了，当时他们正在回城堡的路上，在通过走廊时他们发现雪下的比平常早了。“你看她像什么？又是她的那些关于半种的东西——她在试图把哈格力描绘得好像他有多愚蠢，就因为他有一个巨人母亲——哦，这不公平，那真的不是堂很糟糕的课——我是说，好吧，也许它会有一个毁灭性的结尾，但Thestrals不错——事实上，对哈格力来说，它们真的很好！”

　　“安布里奇说他们很危险，”罗恩说。

　　“好吧，就像哈格力说的，它们能照顾自己，”荷米恩没耐性地说，“我想像格拉伯利-普兰克那样的老师在NEWT测试之前是不会经常把它们展示给我们看的，不过，好吧，它们非常有趣，不是吗？有些人能看到他们而有些人不能！我真希望我能。”

　　“你能？”哈里安静的问她。

　　她突然很惊骇的表情。

　　“哦，哈利-对不起-步，当然我不能-那真是个愚蠢的说法。”

　　“没关系，”他赶紧说，“别担心”

　　“我真惊讶有那么多人能看见它们，”罗恩说。“一个班里有三个……”

　　“是的，威斯利，我们刚刚很奇怪，”一个恶毒的声音从安静的雪地那边传来，马尔夫，克莱博和高尔正在他们的右后方。“你估计如果你见到什么人死了，是不是看鬼飞球也能更清楚点儿？”

　　他，克莱博和高尔狂笑着走向城堡，接着传来一声齐唱“威斯利是我们的王牌。”罗恩的耳朵立刻变红了。

　　“别理他们，就当他们不存在，”荷米恩嘀咕着，掏出她的魔杖施魔法使空气重新暖合起来，这样她就能够从那些看上去没什么改变的雪地中开出一条从这儿到温室之间的更容易走的小路。

　　十二月到了，带来了更多的雪和一堆足以令五年级崩溃的作业。在圣诞即将到来之时罗恩和荷米恩级长的职责也更加繁重了。他们被叫去监督城堡的装饰工作（“你试试当烦恼在一边正试图恰似你时去挂铃铛，”罗恩说），去照看那些因为痛苦的寒冷而不得不把空闲时间花在室内的一二年级的学生（“他们这些厚颜无耻的萧鼻涕虫，你知道，我们一年级的时候可没有像他们那么粗鲁，”罗恩说）

　　与Filch轮流巡逻走廊，Filch怀疑假日的气氛会以巫师的决斗来表现（“他的脑袋里一定装满了大便，”罗恩暴躁的说）。他们是如此的忙碌以致於荷米恩甚至已经停止编织精灵帽子，她很烦恼因为她只剩下最后三个了。

　　“所有那些还没有被我解放的可怜的精灵们，必须留在这里过圣诞节了因为没有充足的帽子！”

　　没有那个胆量告诉她多比拿走了她编的每件东西 ，哈利更低的弯向他的魔法史。 无论如何，不管怎样，他不