No one in Gryffindor Tower slept that night. They knew that the castle was being searched again, and the whole House stayed awake in the common room, waiting to hear whether Black had been caught. Professor McGonagall came back at dawn, to tell them that he had again escaped.
Throughout the day, everywhere they went they saw signs of tighter security; Professor Flitwick could be seen teaching the front doors to recognize a large picture of Sirius Black; Filch was suddenly bustling up and down the corridors, boarding up everything from tiny cracks in the walls to mouse holes. Sir Cadogan had been fired. His portrait had been taken back to its lonely landing on the seventh floor, and the Fat Lady was back. She had been expertly restored, but was still extremely nervous, and had agreed to return to her job only on condition that she was given extra protection. A bunch of surly security trolls had been hired to guard her. They paced the corridor in a menacing group, talking in grunts and comparing the size of their clubs.
Harry couldn't help noticing that the statue of the one-eyed witch on the third floor remained unguarded and unblocked. It seemed that Fred and George had been right in thinking that they — and now Harry, Ron, and Hermione — were the only ones who knew about the hidden passageway within it.
“D'you reckon we should tell someone?” Harry asked Ron.
“We know he's not coming in through Honeyduke's,” said Ron dismissively. “We'd've heard if the shop had been broken into.”
Harry was glad Ron took this view. If the one-eyed witch was boarded up too, he would never be able to go into Hogsmeade again.
Ron had become an instant celebrity. For the first time in his life, people were paying more attention to him than to Harry, and it was clear that Ron was rather enjoying the experience. Though still severely shaken by the night's events, he was happy to tell anyone who asked what had happened, with a wealth of detail.
“… I was asleep, and I heard this ripping noise, and I thought it was in my dream, you know? But then there was this draft…I woke up and one side of the hangings on my bed had been pulled down…I rolled over…and I saw him standing over me…like a skeleton, with loads of filthy hair…holding this great long knife, must've been twelve inches…and he looked at me, and I looked at him, and then I yelled, and he scampered.
“Why, though?” Ron added to Harry as the group of second year girls who had been listening to his chilling tale departed. “Why did he run?”
Harry had been wondering the same thing. Why had Black, having got the wrong bed, not silenced Ron and proceeded to Harry? Black had proved twelve years ago that he didn't mind murdering innocent people, and this time he had been facing five unarmed boys, four of whom were asleep.
“He must've known he'd have a job getting back out of the castle once you'd yelled and woken people up,” said Harry thoughtfully. “He'd've had to kill the whole house to get back through the portrait hole…then he would've met the teachers…”
Neville was in total disgrace. Professor McGonagall was so furious with him she had banned him from all future Hogsmeade visits, given him a detention, and forbidden anyone to give him the password into the tower. Poor Neville was forced to wait. outside the common room every night for somebody to let him in, while the security trolls leered unpleasantly at him. None of these punishments, however, came close to matching the one his grandmother had in store for him. Two days after Black's break-in, she sent Neville the very worst thing a Hogwarts student could receive over breakfast — a Howler.
The school owls swooped into the Great Hall carrying the mail as usual, and Neville choked as a huge barn owl landed in front of him, a scarlet envelope clutched in its beak. Harry and Ron, who were sitting opposite him, recognized the letter as a Howler at once — Ron had got one from his mother the year before.
“Run for it, Neville,” Ron advised.
Neville didn't need telling twice. He seized the envelope, and holding it before him like a bomb, sprinted out of the hall, while the Slytherin table exploded with laughter at the sight of him. They heard the Howler go off in the entrance hall — Neville's grandmother's voice, magically magnified to a hundred times its usual volume, shrieking about how he had brought shame on the whole family.
Harry was too busy feeling sorry for Neville to notice immediately that he had a letter too. Hedwig got his attention by nipping him sharply on the wrist.
“Ouch! Oh — thanks, Hedwig.”
Harry tore open the envelope while Hedwig helped herself to some of Neville's cornflakes. The note inside said:
Dear Harry and Ron,
How about having tea with me this afternoon ‘round six? I'll come collect you from the castle. WAIT FOR ME IN THE ENTRANCE HALL; YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED OUT ON YOUR OWN.
Cheers,
Hagrid
“He probably wants to hear all about Black!” said Ron.
So at six o'clock that afternoon, Harry and Ron left Gryffindor Tower, passed the security trolls at a run, and headed down to the entrance hall.
Hagrid was already waiting for them.
“All right, Hagrid!” said Ron. “S'pose you want to hear about Saturday night, do you?”
“I've already heard all abou’ it,” said Hagrid, opening the front doors and leading them outside.
“Oh,” said Ron, looking slightly put out.
The first thing they saw on entering Hagrid's cabin was Buckbeak, who was stretched out on top of Hagrid's patchwork quilt, his enormous wings folded tight to his body, enjoying a large plate of dead ferrets. Averting his eyes from this unpleasant sight, Harry saw a gigantic, hairy brown suit and a very horrible yellow-and-orange tie hanging from the top of Hagrid's wardrobe door.
“What are they for, Hagrid?” said Harry.
“Buckbeak's case against the Committee fer the Disposal o’ Dangerous Creatures,” said Hagrid. “This Friday. Him an’ me'll be goin’ down ter London together. I've booked two beds on the Knight Bus….”
Harry felt a nasty pang of guilt. He had completely forgotten that Buckbeak's trial was so near, and judging by the uneasy look on Ron's face, he had too. They had also forgotten their promise about helping him prepare Buckbeak's defense; the arrival of the Firebolt had driven it clean out of their minds.
Hagrid poured them tea and offered them a plate of Bath buns but they knew better than to accept; they had had too much experience with Hagrid's cooking.
“I got somethin’ ter discuss with you two,” said Hagrid, sitting himself between them and looking uncharacteristically serious.
“What?” said Harry.
“Hermione,” said Hagrid.
“What about her?” said Ron.
“She's in a righ’ state, that's what. She's bin comin’ down ter visit me a lot since Chris'mas. Bin feelin’ lonely. Firs’ yeh weren’ talking to her because o’ the Firebolt, now yer not talkin’ to her because her cat —”
“– ate Scabbers!” Ron interjected angrily.
“Because her cat acted like all cats do,” Hagrid continued doggedly. “She's cried a fair few times, yeh know. Goin’ through a rough time at the moment. Bitten off more'n she can chew, if yeh ask me, all the work she's tryin’ ter do. Still found time ter help me with Buckbeak's case, mind…She's found some really good stuff fer me…reckon he'll stand a good chance now…”
“Hagrid, we should've helped as well — sorry —” Harry began awkwardly.
“I'm not blamin’ yeh!” said Hagrid, waving Harry's apology aside. “Gawd knows yeh've had enough ter be getting’ on with. I've seen yeh practicin’ Quidditch ev'ry hour o’ the day an’ night — but I gotta tell yeh, I thought you two'd value yer friend more'n broomsticks or rats. Tha's all.”
Harry and Ron exchanged uncomfortable looks.
“Really upset, she was, when Black nearly stabbed yeh, Ron. She's got her heart in the right place, Hermione has, an’ you two not talkin’ to her —”
“If she'd just get rid of that cat, I'd speak to her again!” Ron said angrily. “But she's still sticking up for it! It's a maniac, and she won't hear a word against it!”
“Ah, well, people can be a bit stupid abou’ their pets,” said Hagrid wisely. Behind him, Buckbeak spat a few ferret bones onto Hagrid's pillow.
They spent the rest of their visit discussing Gryffindor's improved chances for the Quidditch Cup. At nine o'clock, Hagrid walked them back up to the castle.
A large group of people was bunched around the bulletin board when they returned to the common room.
“Hogsmeade, next weekend!” said Ron, craning over the heads to read the new notice. “What d'you reckon?” he added quietly to Harry as they went to sit down.
“Well, Filch hasn't done anything about the passage into Honeydukes…” Harry said, even more quietly.
“Harry!” said a voice in his right ear. Harry started and looked around at Hermione, who was sitting at the table right behind them and clearing a space in the wall of books that had been hiding her.
“Harry, if you go into Hogsmeade again…I'll tell Professor McGonagall about that map!” said Hermione.
“Can you hear someone talking, Harry?” growled Ron, not looking at Hermione.
“Ron, how can you let him go with you? After what Sirius Black nearly did to you! I mean it, I'll tell —”
“So now you're trying to get Harry expelled!” said Ron furiously. “Haven't you done enough damage this year?”
Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but with a soft hiss, Crookshanks leapt onto her lap. Hermione took one frightened look at the expression on Ron's face, gathered up Crookshanks, and hurried away toward the girls’ dormitories.
“So how about it?” Ron said to Harry as though there had been no interruption. “Come on, last time we went you didn't see anything. You haven't even been inside Zonko's yet!”
Harry looked around to check that Hermione was well out of earshot.
“Okay,” he said. “But I'm taking the Invisibility Cloak this time.”
* * * * * *
On Saturday morning, Harry packed his Invisibility Cloak in his bag, slipped the Marauder's Map into his pocket, and went down to breakfast with everyone else. Hermione kept shooting suspicious looks down the table at him, but he avoided her eye and was careful to let her see him walking back up the marble staircase in the entrance hall as everybody else proceeded to the front doors.
“Bye!” Harry called to Ron. “See you when you get back!”
Ron grinned and winked.
Harry hurried up to the third floor, slipping the Marauder's Map out of his pocket as he went. Crouching behind the one-eyed witch, he smoothed it out. A tiny dot was moving in his direction. Harry squinted at it. The minuscule writing next to it read Neville Longbottom.
Harry quickly pulled out his wand, muttered, “Dissendium!” and shoved his bag into the statue, but before he could climb in himself, Neville came around the corner.
“Harry! I forgot you weren't going to Hogsmeade either!”
“Hi, Neville,” said Harry, moving swiftly away from the statue and pushing the map back into his pocket. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing,” shrugged Neville. “Want a game of Exploding Snap?”
“Er — not now — I was going to go to the library and do that vampire essay for Lupin —”
“I'll come with you!” said Neville brightly. “I haven't done it either!”
“Er — hang on — yeah, I forgot, I finished it last night!”
“Great, you can help me!” said Neville, his round face anxious. “I don't understand that thing about the garlic at all — do they have to eat it, or —”
He broke off with a small gasp, looking over Harry's shoulder.
It was Snape. Neville took a quick step behind Harry.
“And what are you two doing here?” said Snape, coming to a halt and looking from one to the other. “An odd place to meet —”
To Harry's immense disquiet, Snape's black eyes flicked to the doorways on either side of them, and then to the one-eyed witch.
“We're not — meeting here,” said Harry. “We just — met here.”
“Indeed?” said Snape. “You have a habit of turning up in unexpected places, Potter, and you are very rarely there for no good reason…I suggest the pair of you return to Gryffindor Tower, where you belong.”
Harry and Neville set off without another word. As they turned the corner, Harry looked back. Snape was running one of his hands over the one-eyed witch's head, examining it closely.
Harry managed to shake Neville off at the Fat Lady by telling him the password, then pretending he'd left his vampire essay in the library and doubling back. Once out of sight of the security trolls, he pulled out the map again and held it close to his nose.
The third floor corridor seemed to be deserted. Harry scanned the map carefully and saw, with a leap of relief, that the tiny dot labeled Severus Snape was now back in its office.
He sprinted back to the one-eyed witch, opened her hump, heaved himself inside, and slid down to meet his bag at the bottom of the stone chute. He wiped the Marauder's Map blank again, then set off at a run.
* * * * * *
Harry, completely hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak, emerged into the sunlight outside Honeydukes and prodded Ron in the back.
“It's me,” he muttered.
“What kept you?” Ron hissed.
“Snape was hanging around.”
They set off up the High Street.
“Where are you?” Ron kept muttering out of the corner of his mouth. “Are you still there? This feels weird…”
They went to the post office; Ron pretended to be checking the price of an owl to Bill in Egypt so that Harry could have a good look around. The owls sat hooting softly down at him, at least three hundred of them; from Great Grays right down to tiny little Scops owls (“Local Deliveries Only”), which were so small they could have sat in the palm of Harry's hand.
Then they visited Zonko's, which was so packed with students Harry had to exercise great care not to tread on anyone and cause a panic. There were jokes and tricks to fulfill even Fred's and George's wildest dreams; Harry gave Ron whispered orders and passed him some gold from under the cloak. They left Zonko's with their money bags considerably lighter than they had been on entering, but their pockets bulging with Dungbombs, Hiccup Sweets, Frog Spawn Soap, and a Nose-Biting Teacup apiece.
The day was fine and breezy, and neither of them felt like staying indoors, so they walked past the Three Broomsticks and climbed a slope to visit the Shrieking Shack, the most haunted dwelling in Britain. It stood a little way above the rest of the village, and even in daylight was slightly creepy, with its boarded windows and dank overgrown garden.
“Even the Hogwarts ghosts avoid it,” said Ron as they leaned on the fence, looking up at it. “I asked Nearly Headless Nick…he says he's heard a very rough crowd lives here. No one can get in. Fred and George tried, obviously, but all the entrances are sealed shut…”
Harry, feeling hot from their climb, was just considering taking off the cloak for a few minutes when they heard voices nearby. Someone was climbing toward the house from the other side of the hill; moments later, Malfoy had appeared, followed closely by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy was speaking.
“…should have an owl from Father any time now. He had to go to the hearing to tell them about my arm…about how I couldn't use it for three months…”
Crabbe and Goyle sniggered.
“I really wish I could hear that great hairy moron trying to defend himself…‘There's no ‘arm in ‘im, ‘onest —'…That Hippogriff's as good as dead —”
Malfoy suddenly caught sight of Ron. His pale face split in a malevolent grin.
“What are you doing, Weasley?”
Malfoy looked up at the crumbling house behind Ron.
“Suppose you'd love to live here, wouldn't you, Weasley? Dreaming about having your own bedroom? I heard your family all sleep in one room — is that true?”
Harry seized the back of Ron's robes to stop him from leaping on Malfoy.
“Leave him to me,” he hissed in Ron's ear.
The opportunity was too perfect to miss. Harry crept silently around behind Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, bent down, and scooped a large handful of mud out of the path.
“We were just discussing your friend Hagrid,” Malfoy said to Ron. “Just trying to imagine what he's saying to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. D'you think he'll cry when they cut off his Hippogriff's —”
SPLAT!
Malfoy's head jerked forward as the mud hit him; his silverblond hair was suddenly dripping in muck.
“What the —?”
Ron had to hold onto the fence to keep himself standing, he was laughing so hard. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle spun stupidly on the spot, staring wildly around, Malfoy trying to wipe his hair clean.
“What was that? Who did that?”
“Very haunted up here, isn't it?” said Ron, with the air of one commenting on the weather.
Crabbe and Goyle were looking scared. Their bulging muscles were no use against ghosts. Malfoy was staring madly around at the deserted landscape.
Harry sneaked along the path, where a particularly sloppy puddle yielded some foul-smelling, green sludge.
SPLATTER!
Crabbe and Goyle caught some this time. Goyle hopped furiously on the spot, trying to rub it out of his small, dull eyes.
“It came from over there!” said Malfoy, wiping his face, and staring at a spot some six feet to the left of Harry.
Crabbe blundered forward, his long arms outstretched like a zombie. Harry dodged around him, picked up a stick, and lobbed it at Crabbe's back. Harry doubled up with silent laughter as Crabbe did a kind of pirouette in midair, trying to see who had thrown it. As Ron was the only person Crabbe could see, it was Ron he started toward, but Harry stuck out his leg. Crabbe stumbled — and his huge, flat foot caught the hem of Harry's cloak. Harry felt a great tug, then the cloak slid off his face.
For a split second, Malfoy stared at him.
“AAARGH!” he yelled, pointing at Harry's head. Then he turned tail and ran, at breakneck speed, back down the hill, Crabbe and Goyle behind him.
Harry tugged the cloak up again, but the damage was done.
“Harry!” Ron said, stumbling forward and staring hopelessly at the point where Harry had disappeared, “you'd better run for it! If Malfoy tells anyone — you'd better get back to the castle, quick —”
“See you later,” said Harry, and without another word, he tore back down the path toward Hogsmeade.
Would Malfoy believe what he had seen? Would anyone believe Malfoy? Nobody knew about the Invisibility Cloak — nobody except Dumbledore. Harry's stomach turned over — Dumbledore would know exactly what had happened, if Malfoy said anything —
Back into Honeydukes, back down the cellar steps, across the stone floor, through the trapdoor — Harry pulled off the cloak, tucked it under his arm, and ran, flat out, along the passage…Malfoy would get back first… how long would it take him to find a teacher? Panting, a sharp pain in his side, Harry didn't slow down until he reached the stone slide. He would have to leave the cloak where it was, it was too much of a giveaway in case Malfoy had tipped off a teacher — he hid it in a shadowy corner, then started to climb, fast as he could, his sweaty hands slipping on the sides of the chute. He reached the inside of the witch's hump, tapped it with his wand, stuck his head through, and hoisted himself out; the hump closed, and just as Harry jumped out from behind the statue, he heard quick footsteps approaching.
It was Snape. He approached Harry at a swift walk, his black robes swishing, then stopped in front of him.
“So,” he said.
There was a look of suppressed triumph about him. Harry tried to look innocent, all too aware of his sweaty face and his muddy hands, which he quickly hid in his pockets.
“Come with me, Potter,” said Snape.
Harry followed him downstairs, trying to wipe his hands clean on the inside of his robes without Snape noticing. They walked down the stairs to the dungeons and then into Snape's office.
Harry had been in here only once before, and he had been in very serious trouble then too. Snape had acquired a few more slimy horrible things in jars since last time, all standing on shelves behind his desk, glinting in the firelight and adding to the threatening atmosphere.
“Sit,” said Snape.
Harry sat. Snape, however, remained, standing.
“Mr. Malfoy has just been to see me with a strange story, Potter,” said Snape.
Harry didn't say anything.
“He tells me that he was up by the Shrieking Shack when he ran into Weasley — apparently alone.”
Still, Harry didn't speak.
“Mr. Malfoy states that he was standing talking to Weasley, when a large amount of mud hit him in the back of the head. How do you think that could have happened?”
Harry tried to look mildly surprised.
“I don't know, Professor.”
Snape's eyes were boring into Harry's. It was exactly like trying to stare down a Hippogriff. Harry tried hard not to blink.
“Mr. Malfoy then saw an extraordinary apparition. Can you imagine what it might have been, Potter?”
“No,” said Harry, now trying to sound innocently curious.
“It was your head, Potter. Floating in midair.”
There was a long silence.
“Maybe he'd better go to Madam Pomfrey,” said Harry. “If he's seeing things like —”
“What would your head have been doing in Hogsmeade, Potter?” said Snape softly. “Your head is not allowed in Hogsmeade. No part of your body has permission to be in Hogsmeade.”
“I know that,” said Harry, striving to keep his face free of guilt or fear. “It sounds like Malfoy's having hallucin —”
“Malfoy is not having hallucinations,” snarled Snape, and he bent down, a hand on each arm of Harry's chair, so that their faces were a foot apart. “If your head was in Hogsmeade, so was the rest of you.”
“I've been up in Gryffindor Tower,” said Harry. “Like you told —”
“Can anyone confirm that?”
Harry didn't say anything. Snape's thin mouth curled into a horrible smile.
“So,” he said, straightening up again. “Everyone from the Minister of Magic downward has been trying to keep famous Harry Potter safe from Sirius Black. But famous Harry Potter is a law unto himself. Let the ordinary people worry about his safety! Famous Harry Potter goes where he wants to, with no thought for the consequences.”
Harry stayed silent. Snape was trying to provoke him into telling the truth. He wasn't going to do it. Snape had no proof — yet.
“How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter,” Snape said suddenly, his eyes glinting. “He too was exceedingly arrogant. A small amount of talent on the Quidditch field made him think he was a cut above the rest of us too. Strutting around the place with his friends and admirers…The resemblance between you is uncanny.”
“My dad didn't strut,” said Harry, before he could stop himself. “And neither do I.”
“Your father didn't set much store by rules either,” Snape went on, pressing his advantage, his thin face full of malice. “Rules were for lesser mortals, not Quidditch Cup-winners. His head was so swollen —”
“SHUT UP!”
Harry was suddenly on his feet. Rage such as he had not felt since his last night in Privet Drive was coursing through him. He didn't care that Snape's face had gone rigid, the black eyes flashing dangerously.
“What did you say to me, Potter?”
“I told you to shut up about my dad!” Harry yelled. “I know the truth, all right? He saved your life! Dumbledore told me! You wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for my dad!”
Snape's sallow skin had gone the color of sour milk.
“And did the headmaster tell you the circumstances in which your father saved my life?” he whispered. “Or did he consider the details too unpleasant for precious Potter's delicate ears?”
Harry bit his lip. He didn't know what had happened and didn't want to admit it — but Snape seemed to have guessed the truth.
“I would hate for you to run away with a false idea of your father, Potter,” he said, a terrible grin twisting his face. “Have you been imagining some act of glorious heroism? Then let me correct you — your saintly father and his friends played a highly amusing joke on me that would have resulted in my death if your father hadn't got cold feet at the last moment. There was nothing brave about what he did. He was saving his own skin as much as mine. Had their joke succeeded, he would have been expelled from Hogwarts.”
Snape's uneven, yellowish teeth were bared.
“Turn out your pockets, Potter!” he spat suddenly.
Harry didn't move. There was a pounding in his ears.
“Turn out your pockets, or we go straight to the headmaster! Pull them out, Potter!”
Cold with dread, Harry slowly pulled out the bag of Zonko's tricks and the Marauder's Map.
Snap picked up the Zonko's bag.
“Ron gave them to me,” said Harry, praying he'd get a chance to tip Ron off before Snape saw him. “He brought them back from Hogsmeade last time —”
“Indeed? And you've been carrying them around ever since? How very touching…and what is this?”
Snape had picked up the map. Harry tried with all his might to keep his face impassive.
“Spare bit of parchment,” he said with a shrug.
Snape turned it over, his eyes on Harry.
“Surely you don't need such a very old piece of parchment?” he said. “Why don't I just — throw this away?”
His hand moved toward the fire.
“No!” Harry said quickly.
“So!” said Snape, his long nostrils quivering. “Is this another treasured gift from Mr. Weasley? Or is it — something else? A letter, perhaps, written in invisible ink? Or — instructions to get into Hogsmeade without passing the Dementors?”
Harry blinked. Snape's eyes gleamed.
“Let me see, let me see…” he muttered, taking out his wand and smoothing the map out on his desk. “Reveal your secret!” he said, touching the wand to the parchment.
Nothing happened. Harry clenched his hands to stop them from shaking.
“Show yourself!” Snape said, tapping the map sharply.
It stayed blank. Harry was taking deep, calming breaths.
“Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!” Snape said, hitting the map with his wand.
As though an invisible hand were writing upon it, words appeared on the smooth surface of the map.
“Mooney presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business.”
Snape froze. Harry stared, dumbstruck, at the message. But the map didn't stop there. More writing was appearing beneath the first.
“Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Mooney and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git.”
It would have been very funny if the situation hadn't been so serious. And there was more …
“Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor.”
Harry closed his eyes in horror. When he'd opened them, the map had had its last word.
“Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball.”
Harry waited for the blow to fall.
“So …” said Snape softly. “We'll see about this …”
He strode across to his fire, seized a fistful of glittering powder from a jar on the fireplace, and threw it into the flames.
“Lupin!” Snape called into the fire. “I want a word!”
Utterly bewildered, Harry stared at the fire. A large shape had appeared in it, revolving very fast. Seconds later, Professor Lupin was clambering out of the fireplace, brushing ash off his shabby robes.
“You called, Severus?” said Lupin mildly.
“I certainly did,” said Snape, his face contorted with fury as he strode back to his desk. “I have just asked Potter to empty his pockets. He was carrying this.”
Snape pointed at the parchment, on which the words of Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs were still shining. An odd, closed expression appeared on Lupin's face.
“Well?” said Snape.
Lupin continued to stare at the map. Harry had the impression that Lupin was doing some very quick thinking.
“Well?” said Snape again. “This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such a thing?”
Lupin looked up and, by the merest half-glance in Harry's direction, warned him not to interrupt.
“Full of Dark Magic?” he repeated mildly. “Do you really think so, Severus? It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who reads it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry got it from a joke shop —”
“Indeed?” said Snape. His jaw had gone rigid with anger. “You think a joke shop could supply him with such a thing? You don't think it more likely that he got it directly from the manufacturers?”
Harry didn't understand what Snape was talking about. Nor, apparently, did Lupin.
“You mean, by Mr. Wormtail or one of these people?” he said. “Harry, do you know any of these men?”
“No,” said Harry quickly.
“You see, Severus?” said Lupin, turning back to Snape. “It looks like a Zonko product to me —”
Right on cue, Ron came bursting into the office. He was completely out of breath, and stopped just short of Snape's desk, clutching the stitch in his chest and trying to speak.
“I — gave — Harry — that — stuff,” he choked. “Bought — it…in Zonko's… ages — ago…”
“Well!” said Lupin, clapping his hands together and looking around cheerfully. “That seems to clear that up! Severus, I'll take this back, shall I?” He folded the map and tucked it inside his robes. “Harry, Ron, come with me, I need a word about my vampire essay — excuse us, Severus —”
Harry didn't dare look at Snape as they left his office. He. Ron, and Lupin walked all the way back into the entrance hall before speaking. Then Harry turned to Lupin.
“Professor, I —”
“I don't want to hear explanations,” said Lupin shortly. He glanced around the empty entrance hall and lowered his voice. “I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr. Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it's a map,” he said as Harry and Ron looked amazed. “I don't want to know how it fell into your possession. I am, however, astounded that you didn't hand it in. Particularly after what happened the last time a student left information about the castle lying around. And I can't let you have it back, Harry.”
Harry had expected that, and was too keen for explanations to protest.
“Why did Snape think I'd got it from the manufacturers?”
“Because…” Lupin hesitated, “because these mapmakers would have wanted to lure you out of school. They'd think it extremely entertaining.”
“Do you know them?” said Harry, impressed.
“We've met,” he said shortly. He was looking at Harry more seriously than ever before.
“Don't expect me to cover up for you again, Harry. I cannot make you take Sirius Black seriously. But I would have thought that what you have heard when the Dementors draw near you would have had more of an effect on you. Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry. A poor way to repay them — gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks.”
He walked away, leaving Harry feeling worse by far than he had at any point in Snape's office. Slowly, he and Ron mounted the marble staircase. As Harry passed the one-eyed witch, he remembered the Invisibility Cloak — it was still down there, but he didn't dare go and get it.
“It's my fault,” said Ron abruptly. “I persuaded you to go. Lupin's right, it was stupid, we shouldn't've done it —”
He broke off; they reached the corridor where the security trolls were pacing, and Hermione was walking toward them. One look at her face convinced Harry that she had heard what had happened. His heart plummeted — had she told Professor McGonagall?
“Come to have a good gloat?” said Ron savagely as she stopped in front of them. “Or have you just been to tell on us?”
“No,” said Hermione. She was holding a letter in her hands and her lip was trembling. “I just thought you ought to know…Hagrid lost his case. Buckbeak is going to be executed.”
那天晚上，格林芬顿楼里谁也睡不着。他们知道那些城堡又被搜查了，他们屋子的人都在教室里等待着巴拉克被逮捕的消息，麦康娜教授在黎明时分回来了，告诉他们说他逃脱了。
第二天，他们到处都是加强了保安的指示牌。费立维克在门口用大画像教人怎么辨认西里斯。巴拉克；费驰在过道上跑上跑下，用木板把每个裂缝、洞口封闭。
卡得格先生被解雇了，他的画像被送到七楼。而那个胖大婶回来了，她对这工作已很熟悉，但仍然很紧张，并要求只有对她作出额外保护，她才会担任这工作。一队粗壮的保安被雇佣来专门看护着她。他们极有威吓力地在过道上踱着，咕哝着，抱怨着他们那个大楼的规模。
哈利忽然发现3楼那个独眼的女巫画像未被保护和监视，似乎弗来德以前的想法是对的，只有哈利、罗恩和荷米恩才知道这条秘密通道的。
“你说我们是否应该告诉别人？”哈利问罗恩。
“我们知道不会有人从‘甜鸭店’进来的，”罗恩毫不在意地说，“如果有人闯店，我们早就收到消息了。”
哈利很高兴罗恩有这种看法，如果那座独眼的女巫画像也成了监视对象，那他就再也不可能到霍格马得去了。
罗恩一时间成了名人。在他的人生中这还是第一次，人们对他的关注比对哈利还多。很明显，罗恩对此很欢乐。虽然还为那一晚的经历而颤抖，但他还是很乐意把那次的经历详详细细地向人讲述。
“……那时我睡着了，突然听见撕裂东西的声音，我想我是在做梦，我醒来，发现我一边的垂帘被扯了下来……我转了一下身……看见他正在我面前，像副骸骨，留着污秽的头发，手拿一把长刀，约十二英寸长，他看着我，我也看着他，然后我大叫起来，他就溜走了。”
“什么，尽管问？”罗恩补充说。这时，一群听过他的恐怖经历的二年级女生在一旁走过。“他为什么要跑呢？”
哈利也在想这个，为什么他会跑错床，他不能让罗恩闭嘴，或进而袭击哈利呢？
巴拉克已被证实在12年前因谋杀一个无辜者而逍遥法外，而这次，他只是面对着5个手无寸铁的男孩，而且当中4个已入睡。
“他猜想也许外面还有事等着他，当你一叫并把别人都吵醒时，”
哈利深思熟虑地说，“他必须把一屋子的人都杀光然后从那画像后的门逃跑，这样他就很有可能被老师撞见。”
尼维尔完全失宠了，麦康娜教授对他很生气，禁止他以后到霍格马得去，拘留了他，还禁止任何人给他进入大楼的密码。可怜的尼维尔每晚只能在外面等候别人让他进去，那些保安总是睨视他。
所有这些惩罚，都比不上他祖母给他的——一个最差劲的霍格瓦彻学生在早餐后收到的咆哮信。
学校的猫头鹰猛冲进大堂，带着平常的邮件。一只谷食鹰在他面前停了下来，这令他差点说不出话来，鹰嘴里叼着一个粉红色的信封，坐在对面的哈利和罗恩，他们一下子认出那是个咆哮信，罗恩前年就收到过妈妈寄来的一个。
“拆开它，尼维尔。”罗恩建议道。
尼维尔没等人说第二遍，捏了信封，像拿炸弹一样端在眼前。当他冲出大楼时，史林德林的那几张桌的人爆发出一阵笑声。他们听见他祖母的声音在门厅里消失。
她的声音，比平常的声音神奇地高100倍，骂着他如何为家族蒙羞。
哈利只顾着同情尼维尔竟没留意他也有信。海维指了他一下，引起他的注意。
“哦——谢谢你，海维……”
哈利拆开信封，这时海维正享用着尼维尔的玉米片。里面的留言是这样的：亲爱的哈利和罗恩：今晚6点左右陪我喝杯咖啡好吗？我来接你们，在门厅里等我，你们是不准单独出去的。
你欢乐的哈格力“也许是关于巴拉克的事！”罗思说。
晚上6点钟，哈利和罗思离开格林芬顿楼，通过保安队伍，直奔门厅而去。
哈格力已在那里等着他们了。
“好了，哈格力！”罗恩说，“我想你听说过周六晚的事了吧？”
“我全听过了。”他开前门，领着他们出去。
“哦！”罗恩有点失望。
他们在哈格力的小屋看见的第一件东西是毕克碧正放在哈格力的被褥堆上，它那不寻常的双翼紧贴身体，正在享用一大碟的死雪貂，避开他不开心的目光，哈利看见一个巨大的毛绒绒的长袍和一条橙黄色的领带挂在衣橱门上。
“他们是用来干什么的？”哈利问。
“用来对付和处理危险的怪兽的，这个星期五，他和我将到伦敦去，我们在‘骑士客士’里订了两个床位。”
哈利极为内疚。他完全忘了毕克碧的审讯是这么近。从罗恩脸上一点也不放松的神气看来，他也是这样。他们连承诺地帮助他准备毕克碧辩词也忘了，霹雳的回来使他们冲昏了头脑。
哈格力给他们倒了茶，并给他们一碟巴斯糕点，但他们想还是不要尝为好，他们已经领教过哈格力的厨艺了。
“我有事想与你们商量。”他坐在他俩中间看上去很严肃。
“是什么事呢！”哈利问。
“关于荷米恩的！”哈格力答道。
“她怎么了？”罗恩问。
“她自圣诞后就常来看我，她感到孤独。一开始你不跟他说话是为了霹雳的事，现在又因为她的那个猫——”
“它吃了我的斯卡伯斯！”罗恩插话道。
“就因为她的猫像其它猫一样，”哈格力固执地说，“她曾为此哭喊过几次，你也是知道的，那时候，不知道她是怎么过来的，食而无味，但她还帮我找了一些很好的材料……我想毕克碧这次的审讯情况将会有所改善。”
“哈格力，我们本来也应该帮忙的——但……对不起——”哈利难堪地说。
“我没有责备你们！”哈格力说着并不接受哈利的道歉，“上帝知道你们有多忙，我也看见你每天都在练习，但我必须告诉你们，我认为你们是应该对朋友而不是对扫帚和老鼠更为珍惜的。”
哈利和罗恩交换了一个不舒服，不自然的眼色。
“罗恩，当巴拉克几乎刺伤你时，她真的是难过的，她也是有良心的，但你们还是不理睬她。”
“如果她杀了她那只猫，我就跟她说话。”罗恩还是很气愤，“但她仍坚持己见，她是个疯子，她听不进一点不利于猫的话。”
“哦，人们有时也会为自己的宠物而变得糊涂，”哈格力明智地说着。在哈格力身后的毕克碧吐了几块雪貂肉在哈格力的枕头上。
他们在余下的时间内都在讨论格林芬顿队在快迪斯赛中较好的形势，9点钟，哈格力陪他们走回城堡。
当他们回到教室时，一大群人正围在通告栏前。
“霍格马得，下一个周末！”罗恩伸长脖子看见了新的通知。“你估计会怎样？”
他轻轻地补充说。
“费驰在霍格马得那一段并没做什么……”哈利说得更轻了。
“哈利！”一个声音在哈利右耳边响起。哈利抬起眼睛，发现荷米恩正坐在他们右后面的桌子旁，正在整理着那堆把她挡住的书墙。
“哈利，如果你再走进霍格马得，我会告诉麦康娜关于地图的事！”荷米恩说。
“你听见有人在说话吗？哈利！”罗恩吼着，并不看荷米恩。
“罗恩，在西里斯。巴拉克几乎杀了你这件事后，你还让他同你一块去？我将会告诉……”
“这么说，你是想让哈利被淘汰啦！”罗恩盛怒地说，“你这一年来搞的破坏还不够吗？”
荷术恩张开嘴正想申辩，一下嘶嘶声传来，克路殊克跳到她的膝上来。荷米恩惊恐地看着罗恩脸上的表情，抱起克路殊克，向女生宿舍跑去。
“那我们该怎么办？”罗恩好像不当荷米恩刚才打断他们的说话是回事，继续说，“来，你还没到过真克商店呢！”
哈利四周围扫视了一下，看荷米恩是否听得见。
“好吧，”他说，“我这次将会带上那件隐形斗篷。”
星期六的早上，哈利把隐形斗篷和掠夺者地图放进口袋里，然后和其他人一起下楼去吃早餐。荷米恩一直用猜疑的目光向他这张桌子看过来，他避开她的目光，而且有意让她看见自己像其他人一样回头走上那通向前门的楼梯。
“再见！”哈利跟罗恩说，“回头见！”
罗恩眨了眨眼，打个眼色，列着嘴在笑。
哈利匆匆赶到了楼上，在路上，他口袋里的掠夺者地图滑了出来。他在那个独眼女巫画像后蹲下，把她移开。一个小点正向他这边移动，哈利眯着眼睛看，小点旁有几个小字写着“尼维尔。”
哈利迅速掏出魔杖，喃喃念道，“得细店！”。说着把书包塞进画像里，在他爬进去时，尼维尔从墙角处瞧这边走来。
“哈利，我忘了你也不曾去过霍格马得。”
“你好，尼维尔。”哈利迅速从画像旁走开，并把地图拉了一下，塞回口袋里。
“你上来干什么？”哈利慌忙问。
“没什么，”尼维尔耸耸肩说，“玩不玩史纳皮的游戏？”
“不，现在不了。我准备去图书馆，完成露平教授的那篇鬼论文。”
“好，我同你一起去，正好我也没做。”尼维尔高兴地说。
“嗯，且慢，我忘了我昨晚已经完成了。”
“太好了！那你可以帮我！”他满脸焦急地说，“我不懂大蒜那一段——他们必须吃的吗，还是——”
尼维尔顿了顿，喘了口气，仔细看着哈利的背后。
史纳皮来了，尼维尔很快地踱到哈利背后。
“你们两个在干什么？”史纳皮在他们面前站正逐个打量起来，“好一个奇怪的相通地点。”
令哈利不安的是，史纳皮的目光从他们一边的门向那画像移动。
“我们不是约好在这里见面的……只是，刚好碰见了。”哈利解释说。
“就这样吗？”史纳皮说，“你有个习惯，就是专门到那些别人不在意的地方去，波特，你很少会无缘无故地……我还是建议你们回到你们所属的格林芬顿大楼去。”
哈利和尼维尔没说什么，转身就走。在拐弯处，哈利回头看了看，史纳皮正用手触摸那女巫画像，似乎在检查些什么。
在胖大婶那里，哈利告诉了尼维尔密码，然后假装把论文忘在图书馆里，回头跑去取，就这样甩下了尼维尔。一旦他见保安队伍远去了，哈利马上掏出地图，凑到鼻子上看。
三楼的走廊似乎很空荡，哈利浏览了一下地图发现那个标着“史纳皮”的小点已回到办公室。
他跑回画像旁，打开隆起的部分，爬进去，滑到石俗的底部，捡起书包，擦了擦地图，跑向目的地。
哈利在隐形斗篷的掩护下，来到霍格马得的阳光下，并从后戳了罗恩一下。
“是我。”他低声说。
“你怎么被耽搁了？”
“史纳皮在到处走动……”
他们走到大街上。
“你在哪？”罗恩在拐弯处喃喃地说，“你还在吗？这种感觉真不可思议……”
他们来到邮局，罗恩假装看猫头鹰给埃及的比尔带去的字条，好让哈利四围看看，猫头鹰叫着轻轻地落在他身旁，至少有三百只，从灰黑的大猫头鹰到只送地方信的小猫头鹰，应有尽有。有的甚至小到可以坐在罗思的手掌上。
他们参观卓克特可的时候，人很挤，哈利要很小心翼翼地闪避着，以免因撞到人而引起惊慌。里面有很多很多游戏，连弗来德和乔治梦想中最疯狂的也有，哈利轻声地在旁给罗思指点并从斗篷下递给他一些帆船币。他们离开卓克特可时，钱袋里理所当然地轻了，但口袋里的却多了玩具和糖果。
天气很好，风微微地吹着，没一个有窒息之感。他们路过“三扫帚”酒吧，爬过一个山丘，来到什拉克。刹克参观。这是在英国常见的民居。它坐落在比其它村在稍高的地方，但即使在白天，也会给人一种毛骨悚然的感觉。窗户用木板封起来，园子里长满野草。
“连霍格瓦彻的鬼魂也让它三分。”罗恩说着，他们正靠在栅栏上，抬头看看，“我问过无知的尼克，他说他听见好像有很多人住在那里。无人可以进去，弗来德和乔治查探，很明显所有门都锁着。”
哈利，因爬山而有点热，正想把斗篷脱下一会儿，这时，一个声音传来，有人从屋子的另一边爬上来。不一会儿，马尔夫出现了，后面紧跟着克来伯和高尔。马尔夫嘴里说着话：“……必须有一个猫头鹰与爸爸那边保持联络，告诉他我的手的事以及我有三个月时间不能用它……”
克来伯和高尔在吃吃地笑。
“我真希望能听见那个毛茸茸的傻瓜在为自己辩护……”
马尔夫突然发现了罗恩，他苍白的脸上泛起恶意的笑容。
“威斯里？你在那边干什么？”
马尔夫抬头看着罗恩后那座破烂不堪的屋子。
“假设你住在这里，你会喜欢吗？威斯里？想象一下你可以拥有你自己的寝室……我听说你一家人都睡在同一个房间里，这是真的吗？”
哈利抓住罗恩的袍子想阻止他向马尔夫攻击。
“把他交给我。”哈利在罗思耳边低语。
机会实在太好了。哈利悄悄爬到马尔夫身后挖了一大把泥巴。
“我们刚才正议论著你的朋友哈格力，”马尔夫继续说，“试想一下，他会在处理危险动物委员会上说些什么呢？你有没有想过当他们要宰杀他的哈普夫兽（鹰头马身有翅怪兽）时，他是否会大哭大闹呢？”
“啪啦！”一声响。
当泥巴砸到马尔夫头上时，他向前跌了一下，他金黄色的头发顿时糊满脏物。
“是什么——”
罗恩笑死了，连忙扶着栅栏，以免倒在地上。马尔夫、克来伯和高尔傻健地在那里，向四面看去。马尔夫正试图弄干净头发。
“是什么，是谁干的？”
“这里闹鬼了，是吗？”罗恩对着空气说。
克来伯和高尔惊恐地看着，他们强壮的肌肉也对鬼魂无可奈何，马尔夫发疯地在四周空旷的地方瞪着眼睛看。
哈利沿着小路走到一个充满恶臭的烂泥的潭边。
啪啦！又一声响。
克来伯和高尔这次中招了，高尔对着污迹火冒三丈，试图把它们从他那小眼睛中抹出来。
“从那边来的！”马尔夫说着盯着他左边不远处的哈利站的地方。
克来伯跌跌撞撞地走上前。他长长的手如蛇神一样。哈利在他身边躲开，捡起一根树枝，向克来伯戳了一下。哈利在旁边看着克来伯在空中乱舞而偷偷地笑。罗恩是克来伯看见的唯一的敌人，他瞪着罗恩。但哈利又戳了他的腿一下，克来怕绊倒了，他肥大的脚踢了哈利的斗篷一下，哈利感到被人一扯，斗篷从头上滑了下来。
这时候，马尔夫怒视着他。
“啊！”他大喊着，指着哈利的头，接着转身便跑，以迅雷不及掩耳的速度向山下飞奔，克来伯和高尔也紧跟着跑了。
哈利捡起斗篷，但它已经破了。
“哈利！”罗恩踉踉跄跄着来到哈利身边，伸过头来，失望盯着哈利手指着的地方，哈利显得很沮丧。
“你得马上跑，如果马尔夫告诉别人这件事，——你最好回到城堡去，快——！”
“回头见。”哈利也不多说，沿着路跑回去了，直奔霍格马得。
马尔夫会相信自己的眼睛吗？有人会相信马尔夫的话吗？没有人知道关于隐形斗篷的事，除了丹伯多。哈利有点担心——如果马尔夫说出来，丹伯多会很清楚地知道究竟是怎么一回事。
回到霍格马得，哈利扯下斗篷，拿在手里，开始飞奔回去。马尔夫会先到的，他找老师要多长时间呢？他喘着粗气，感到一下剧烈的疼痛。哈利并不放慢速度直到他来到石盖前，他必须把斗篷放回原处，如果马尔夫真的告诉了老师，那么斗篷无疑会成为牺牲品。他把它藏在阴暗的角落，开始尽力爬上去，手上的汗粘在石壁上直打滑。
他终于爬到画像的隆起处。他用魔杖敲了敲，伸出头，爬了出来。关上那个开口，正当哈利从画像背后跳出时，他听见一阵急促的脚步声在走近他。
是史纳皮，他快步走到哈利眼前。
“那么……”他说。
他脸上洋溢着难以抑制的喜悦。哈利却装着若无其事地看着他。自己汗流使背，双手粘满污泥，迅速把手放进口袋里，史纳皮根本没发觉。
“跟我来，波特！”史纳皮说。
哈利趁史纳皮不在意时使劲把手在袍内侧擦拭，他们下了楼梯，来到地牢处史纲皮的办公室。
哈利以前只来过一次。那一次，他也是犯了很严重的错误，史纳皮自上次以后就找到了一些更可怕的小东西泡在瓶子里，都站在他桌子后面的书架上闪着火光，更添恐怖气氛。
“坐。”史纳皮说。
哈利坐下了，而史纳皮却仍站着。
“马尔夫先生刚才告诉我一个很奇怪的故事。”
哈利并没说什么。
“他告诉我说你被什拉克。刹克追上，就在他碰上威斯里的时候。”
哈利仍不哼声。
“马尔夫说当一大堆泥砸向他时，他正站着和威斯里说话，泥打中他的背部和头部。你说怎么会这样呢？”
哈刮企图尽量显出惊讶之色。
“不知道，教授。”
史纳皮的目光深深地向哈利眼里看去，似乎要从中找出那头怪兽。哈利尽力不眨动眼睛。
“马尔夫接着看到一幕奇怪的景象，你能想象是什么吗，波特？”
“不知道。”现在他装着天真与好奇。
“是你的头，波特，它浮在空中。”
一阵长长的静默。
“或许他还是得回去一趟，仔细看看好些，”哈利说，“如果他真的看见像…
…“
“你的头在霍格马得干什么呢，波特？”史纳皮轻轻地问，“你的头是不允许在霍格马得出现的，你身体的任何一部分也不允许。”
“我知道，”他在默默努力地控制着，不使脸上有一点负罪及害怕的神色，“听起来马尔夫好像是幻觉。”
“这不是他的幻觉，”史纳皮厉声说着弯下腰，两只手撑在哈利的椅子扶手上，这样他的脸离哈利的只有一英尺远，“如果你的头在霍格马得，那么也就是说你的其它部分也在那里。”
“我一直在格林芬顿楼里，正如你说的。”
“有人能为你作证吗？”
哈利没说什么，史纳皮的薄薄的双唇做出一个可怕的微笑。
“但，魔法部的每个人都为了哈利不受西里斯。巴拉克的袭击而加强学院的安全。而哈利却只我行我素，让平常人担心他！著名的哈利想到哪里就到哪里，完全不顾后果。”
哈利静静地坐着，史纳皮正努力地诱导他讲出真相。他不用告诉他什么，因为他一点证据也没有。
“你是像你父亲那样的不平凡，波特，”史纳皮双目发光，突然冒出了这么一句，“他，他是非常傲慢的，在快迪斯场上的一点点天份就让他觉得自己是与众不同的。整天同他的朋友及仰慕者疯这疯那……你们的相似之处真让人不可思议。”
“我父亲从来不高傲，”他冲口而出，“我也不是。”
“你父亲也没遵守过多少规矩。”史纳皮继续说着，他脸上充满敌意，以此增加他的优势，“规则是为小人物而立的，并不是他这种快迪斯杯的赢家，他的头脑过热了——”
“住口！”
哈利突然站了起来，自昨晚被痛驾一顿后，他再也没那么愤怒过。他并不理会史纳皮僵直的脸和黑眼睛中闪烁着的危险的光。
“你刚才说什么？波特？”
“我叫你不要骂我爸！”哈利喊道，“我知道真相，他曾救过你！是丹伯多告诉我的，如果没有我爸，你也不会在这里站着！”
史纳皮的黄皮肤一下子变成发酵的牛奶那样。
“那么，校长有没有告诉你，你爸爸是在什么情况下救我的？”你轻声问，“他是否有考虑到个中的细节对于可爱的波特娇贵的耳朵来说实在太残忍了？”
哈利咬咬唇，他并不知道当时发生了什么事，也不想承认——但史纳皮似乎猜到了。
“我不想你带着关于你爸故事的错误观点离开这里，波特你想象过一些英雄人物的事迹吗？让我来纠正你吧——你忠心的伟大的爸爸和他的朋友们对我开了一个很大的玩笑，以至如果当时你爸爸没有在最后关头及时醒悟的话，结果便是我死亡。
他做的一切并不英勇。“
史纳皮那些参差不齐的黄牙齿在显露着。
“打开你的口袋，波特，”他突然叫道。
哈利并不动，耳朵轰的一下。
“把口袋翻过来，否则我们径直去见校长，波特！”
又冷又怕，哈利慢慢从口袋里掏出卓克特可游戏口袋和那张掠夺者地图。
史纳皮捡起那个单克特可口袋。
“是罗思给我的。”哈利边说边祈祷希望他在史纳皮碰见罗思前有机会给罗恩告密。
“他——上次从霍格马得回来时给我的。”
“是吗？你就这样天天带着它到处跑？咦，这是什么？”
史纳皮捡起地图。哈利全力克制自己的脸部表情。
史纳皮把它翻过来，盯着哈利。
“当然，你不需要这些旧刑罚，我怎么不——把它丢了？”
他的手向火堆伸出去。
“不！”哈利立即喊。
史纳皮抽了抽他的长鼻子说：“这是威斯里给你的又一宝贝吗？
或者，这是……一封信，用看不见的墨水写的一封信？又或者是一个指示你不须经过得蒙特直接可得到霍格马得的东西。“哈利惊愕地望着他，史纳皮双目发光。
“让我看看，让我看看，”史纳皮说着，拿出魔杖，在桌上铺开地图。
“显示你的秘密！”史纲皮说着，用魔杖点击羊皮地图。
什么也没有。哈利紧握自己的魔杖，不让其擅动。
“快速显录！”史纳皮在图上很恨地敲了一下。
仍没反应，哈利深深地吸了口气。
“史纳皮教授，这里的老师，要求你把你隐瞒的消息公布出来！”
史纳皮说着，用魔杖击地图。
字一个个地显示出来，仿佛有一枝无形的笔在上面写字。
“莫泥先生奉承讨好史纳皮教授，求他令自己那个大得异常的鼻子不要惹人注意。”
史纳皮僵在那里，哈利也吓呆了，但这还没有停下来，字一个一字地陆续出现：“伯宽先生会记录下他的惊讶：这样奇怪的一个人也会成为教授。”
哈利高兴地闭上眼，当他再次睁开眼时，他看见这最后几行：“温特尔叫史纳皮教授一定要洗头，洗干净那个粘着泥的‘球’。”
哈利等待着下面的。
“现在！”史纳皮轻声说，“我们来看看这个……”
他跨过火炉，抓起一把在瓶里闪闪发光的东西，扔向火焰。
“露平。”史纳皮说，“我要一个字！”
哈利完全迷惑地盯着火焰，一个巨大的形状出现了，扩散得很快，不一会儿，露平教授便从壁炉里走出来，弹着身上的火灰。
“你叫我吗？”露平教授温和地说。
“当然是我，”史纳皮说，当他步回桌旁时，努力地抑制睑上的怒气！“我刚才要求波特掏出口袋，他竟有这个——”
史纳皮指着羊皮地图，上面还留着关于莫泥的事。一个紧张的而又奇怪的表情出现在露平教授的脸上。
“怎么样？”史纳皮问。
露平继续盯着地图，哈利知道露平在很快地思索着。
“怎么了？”史纳皮又问，“这张羊皮图充满灰色魔法，我想那是属于你的专门知识领域的，你对波特拥有这个有什么想法？”
露平抬起头，很快地扫了哈利一眼，示意他不要干预他们的谈话。
“充满灰色魔法？”他重复道，“你真的这么认为？我看倒像是
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