BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

 

Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced

Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of

Witchcraft and Wizardry.

 

The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-eight.

 

Signed: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic

The notices had gone up all around the school overnight, but they did not explain how every single person within the castle seemed to know that Dumbledore had overcome two Aurors, the High Inquisitor, the Minister for Magic and his Junior Assistant to escape. No matter where Harry went within the castle, the sole topic of conversation was Dumbledore's flight, and though some of the details may have gone awry in the retelling (Harry overheard one second-year girl assuring another that Fudge was now lying in St. Mungo's with a pumpkin for a head) it was surprising how accurate the rest of their information was. Everybody knew, for instance, that Harry and Marietta were the only students to have witnessed the scene in Dumbledore's office and, as Marietta was now in the hospital wing, Harry found himself besieged with requests to give a first-hand account.

‘Dumbledore will be back before long,’ said Ernie Macmillan confidently on the way back from Herbology, after listening intently to Harry's story. ‘They couldn't keep him away in our second year and they won't be able to this time. The Fat Friar told me—’ he dropped his voice conspiratorially, so that Harry, Ron and Hermione had to lean closer to him to hear ‘—that Umbridge tried to get back into his office last night after they'd searched the castle and grounds for him. Couldn't get past the gargoyle. The Head's office has sealed itself against her.’ Ernie smirked. ‘Apparently, she had a right little tantrum.’

‘Oh, I expect she really fancied herself sitting up there in the Head's office,’ said Hermione viciously, as they walked up the stone steps into the Entrance Hall. ‘Lording it over all the other teachers, the stupid puffed-up, power-crazy old—’

‘Now, do you really want to finish that sentence, Granger?’

Draco Malfoy had slid out from behind the door, closely followed by Crabbe and Goyle. His pale, pointed face was alight w th malice.

‘Afraid I'm going to have to dock a few points from Gryffincor and Hufflepuff,’ he drawled.

‘It's only teachers who can dock points from houses, Malfoy,’ said Ernie at once.

‘Yeah, we're prefects, too, remember?’ snarled Ron.

‘I know prefects can't dock points, Weasel King,’ sneered Maltby. Crabbe and Goyle sniggered. ‘But members of the Inquisitorial Squad—’

‘The what?’ said Hermione sharply.

‘The Inquisitorial Squad, Granger,’ said Malfoy, pointing towards a tiny silver ‘I’ on his robes just beneath his prefect's badge. ‘A select group of students who are supportive of the Ministry of Magic, hand-picked by Professor Umbridge. Anyway, members of the Inquisitorial Squad do have the power to dock points ... so, Granger, I'll have five from you for being rude about our new Headmistress. Macmillan, five for contradicting me. Five because I don't like you, Potter. Weasley, your shirt's untucked, so I'll have another five for that. Oh yeah, I forgot, you're a Mudblood, Granger, so ten off for that.’

Ron pulled out his wand, but Hermione pushed it away, whispering, ‘Don't!’

‘Wise move, Granger,’ breathed Malfoy. ‘New Head, new times ... be good now, Potty ... Weasel King ...’

Laughing heartily, he strode away with Crabbe and Goyle.

‘He was bluffing,’ said Ernie, looking appalled. ‘He can't be allowed to dock points ... that would be ridiculous ... it would completely undermine the prefect system.’

But Harry, Ron and Hermione had turned automatically towards the giant hour-glasses set in niches along the wall behind them, which recorded the house-points. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had been neck and neck in the lead that morning. Even as they watched, stones flew upwards, reducing the amounts in the lower bulbs. In fact, the only glass that seemed unchanged was the emerald-filled one of Slytherin.

‘Noticed, have you?’ said Fred's voice.

He and George had just come down the marble staircase and joined Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ernie in front of the hour-glasses.

‘Malfoy just docked us all about fifty points,’ said Harry furiously, as they watched several more stones fly upwards from the Gryffindor hour-glass.

‘Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break,’ said George.

‘What do you mean, “tried"?’ said Ron quickly.

‘He never managed to get all the words out,’ said Fred, ‘due to the fact that we forced him head-first into that Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor.’

Hermione looked very shocked.

‘But you'll get into terrible trouble!’

‘Not until Montague reappears, and that could take weeks, I dunno where we sent him,’ said Fred coolly. ‘Anyway ... we've decided we don't care about getting into trouble any more.’

‘Have you ever?’ asked Hermione.

‘Course we have,’ said George. ‘Never been expelled, have we?’

‘We've always known where to draw the line,’ said Fred.

‘We might have put a toe across it occasionally,’ said George.

‘But we've always stopped short of causing real mayhem,’ said Fred.

‘But now?’ said Ron tentatively.

‘Well, now—’ said George.

‘—what with Dumbledore gone—’ said Fred.

‘—we reckon a bit of mayhem—’ said George.

‘—is exactly what our dear new Head deserves,’ said Fred.

‘You mustn't!’ whispered Hermione. ‘You really mustn't! She'd love a reason to expel you!’

‘You don't get it, Hermione, do you?’ said Fred, smiling at her. ‘We don't care about staying any more. We'd walk out right now if we weren't determined to do our bit for Dumbledore first. So, anyway,’ he checked his watch, ‘phase one is about to begin. I'd get in the Great Hall for lunch, if I were you, that way the teachers will see you can't have had anything to do with it.’

‘Anything to do with what?’ said Hermione anxiously.

‘You'll see,’ said George. ‘Run along, now.’

Fred and George turned away and disappeared into the swelling crowd descending the stairs towards lunch. Looking highly disconcerted, Ernie muttered something about unfinished Transfiguration homework and scurried away.

‘I think we should get out of here, you know,’ said Hermione nervously. ‘Just in case ...’

‘Yeah, all right,’ said Ron, and the three of them moved towards the doors to the Great Hall, but Harry had barely glimpsed the day's ceiling of scudding white clouds when somebody tapped him on the shoulder and, turning, he found himself almost nose-to-nose with Filch the caretaker. He took several hasty steps backwards; Filch was best viewed at a distance.

‘The Headmistress would like to see you, Potter,’ he leered.

‘I didn't do it,’ said Harry stupidly, thinking of whatever Fred and George were planning. Filch's jowls wobbled with silent laughter.

‘Guilty conscience, eh?’ he wheezed. ‘Follow me.’

Harry glanced back at Ron and Hermione, who were both looking worried. He shrugged, and followed Filch back into the Entrance Hall, against the tide of hungry students.

Filch seemed to be in an extremely good mood; he hummed creakily under his breath as they climbed the marble staircase. As they reached the first landing he said, ‘Things are changing around here, Potter.’

‘I've noticed,’ said Harry coldly.

‘Yerse ... I've been telling Dumbledore for years and years he's too soft with you all,’ said Filch, chuckling nastily. ‘You filthy little beasts would never have dropped Stink Pellets if you'd known I had it in my power to whip you raw, would you, now? Nobody would have thought of throwing Fanged Frisbees down the corridors if I could've strung you up by the ankles in my office, would they? But when Educational Decree Number Twenty-nine comes in, Potter, I'll be allowed to do them things ... and she's asked the Minister to sign an order for the expulsion of Peeves ... oh, things are going to be very different around here with her in charge ...’

Umbridge had obviously gone to some lengths to get Filch on her side, Harry thought, and the worst of it was that he would probably prove an important weapon; his knowledge of the school's secret passageways and hiding places was probably second only to that of the Weasley twins.

‘Here we are,’ he said, leering down at Harry as he rapped three times on Professor Umbridge's door and pushed it open. ‘The Potter boy to see you, Ma'am.’

Umbridge's office, so very familiar to Harry from his many detentions, was the same as usual except for the large wooden block lying across the front of her desk on which golden letters spelled the word: HEADMISTRESS. Also, his Firebolt and Fred and George's Cleansweeps, which he saw with a pang, were chained and padlocked to a stout iron peg in the wall behind the desk.

Umbridge was sitting behind the desk, busily scribbling on some of her pink parchment, but she looked up and smiled widely at their entrance.

‘Thank you, Argus,’ she said sweetly.

‘Not at all, Ma'am, not at all,’ said Filch, bowing as low as his rheumatism would permit, and exiting backwards.

‘Sit,’ said Umbridge curtly, pointing towards a chair. Harry sat. She continued to scribble for a few moments. He watched some of the foul kittens gambolling around the plates over her head, wondering what fresh horror she had in store for him.

‘Well, now,’ she said finally, setting down her quill and surveying him complacently, like a toad about to swallow a particularly juicy fly. ‘What would you like to drink?’

‘What? said Harry, quite sure he had misheard her.

‘To drink, Mr Potter,’ she said, smiling still more widely. Tea? Coffee? Pumpkin juice?’

As she named each drink, she gave her short wand a wave, and a cup or glass of it appeared on her desk.

‘Nothing, thank you,’ said Harry.

‘I wish you to have a drink with me,’ she said, her voice becoming dangerously sweet. ‘Choose one.’

‘Fine ... tea then,’ said Harry shrugging.

She got up and made quite a performance of adding milk with her back to him. She then bustled around the desk with it, smiling in a sinisterly sweet fashion.

‘There,’ she said, handing it to him. ‘Drink it before it gets cold, won't you? Well, now, Mr Potter ... I thought we ought to have a little chat, after the distressing events of last night.’

He said nothing. She settled herself back into her seat and waited. When several long moments had passed in silence, she said gaily, ‘You're not drinking up!’

He raised the cup to his lips and then, just as suddenly, lowered it. One of the horrible painted kittens behind Umbridge had great round blue eyes just like Mad-Eye Moody's magical one and it had just occurred to Harry what Mad-Eye would say if he ever heard that Harry had drunk anything offered by a known enemy.

‘What's the matter?’ said Umbridge, who was still watching him closely. ‘Do you want sugar?’

‘No,’ said Harry.

He raised the cup to his lips again and pretended to take a sip, though keeping his mouth tightly closed. Umbridge's smile widened.

‘Good,’ she whispered. ‘Very good. Now then ...’ She leaned forwards a little. ‘Where is Albus Dumbledore?’

‘No idea,’ said Harry promptly.

‘Drink up, drink up,’ she said, still smiling. ‘Now, Mr. Potter, let us not play childish games. I know that you know where he has gone. You and Dumbledore have been in this together from the beginning. Consider your position, Mr. Potter ...’

‘I don't know where he is,’ Harry repeated.

He pretended to drink again. She was watching him very closely.

‘Very well,’ she said, though she looked displeased. ‘In that case, you will kindly tell me the whereabouts of Sirius Black.’

Harry's stomach turned over and his hand holding the teacup shook so that it rattled in its saucer. He tilted the cup to his mouth with his lips pressed together, so that some of the hot liquid trickled down on to his robes.

‘I don't know,’ he said, a little too quickly.

‘Mr. Potter,’ said Umbridge, ‘let me remind you that it was I who almost caught the criminal Black in the Gryffindor fire in October. I know perfectly well it was you he was meeting and if I had had any proof neither of you would be at large today, I promise you. I repeat, Mr. Potter ... where is Sirius Black?’

‘No idea,’ said Harry loudly. ‘Haven't got a clue.’

They stared at each other so long that Harry felt his eyes watering. Then Umbridge stood up.

‘Very well, Potter, I will take your word for it this time, but be warned: the might of the Ministry stands behind me. All channels of communication in and out of this school are being monitored. A Floo Network Regulator is keeping watch over every fire in Hogwarts—except my own, of course. My Inquisitorial Squad is opening and reading all owl post entering and leaving the castle. And Mr. Filch is observing all secret passages in and out of the castle. If I find a shred of evidence ...’

BOOM!

The very floor of the office shook. Umbridge slipped sideways, clutching her desk for support, and looking shocked.

‘What was—?’

She was gazing towards the door. Harry took the opportunity to empty his almost-full cup of tea into the nearest vase of dried flowers. He could hear people running and screaming several floors below.

‘Back to lunch you go, Potter!’ cried Umbridge, raising her wand and dashing out of the office. Harry gave her a few seconds’ start, then hurried after her to see what the source of all the uproar was.

It was not difficult to find. One floor down, pandemonium reigned. Somebody (and Harry had a very shrewd idea who) had set off what seemed to be an enormous crate of enchanted fireworks.

Dragons comprised entirely of green and gold sparks were soaring up and down the corridors, emitting loud fiery blasts and bangs as they went; shocking-pink Catherine wheels five feet in diameter were whizzing lethally through the air like so many flying saucers; rockets with long tails of brilliant silver stars were ricocheting off the walls; sparklers were writing swear words in midair of their own accord; firecrackers were exploding like mines everywhere Harry looked, and instead of burning themselves out, fading from sight or fizzling to a halt, these pyrotechnical miracles seemed to be gaining in energy and momentum the longer he watched.

Filch and Umbridge were standing, apparently transfixed in horror, halfway down the stairs. As Harry watched, one of the larger Catherine wheels seemed to decide that what it needed was more room to manoeuvre; it whirled towards Umbridge and Filch with a sinister ‘wheeeeeeeeee'. They both yelled with fright and ducked, and it soared straight out of the window behind them and off across the grounds. Meanwhile, several of the dragons and a large purple bat that was smoking ominously took advantage of the open door at the end of the corridor to escape towards the second floor.

‘Hurry, Filch, hurry!’ shrieked Umbridge, ‘they'll be all over the school unless we do something—Stupefy!’

A jet of red light shot out of the end of her wand and hit one of the rockets. Instead of freezing in midair, it exploded with such force that it blasted a hole in a painting of a soppy-looking witch in the middle of a meadow; she ran for it just in time, reappearing seconds later squashed into the next painting, where a couple of wizards playing cards stood up hastily to make room for her.

‘Don't Stun them, Filch!’ shouted Umbridge angrily, for all the world as though it had been his incantation.

‘Right you are, Headmistress!’ wheezed Filch, who as a Squib could no more have Stunned the fireworks than swallowed them. He dashed to a nearby cupboard, pulled out a broom and began swatting at the fireworks in midair; within seconds the head of the broom was ablaze.

Harry had seen enough; laughing, he ducked down low, ran to a door he knew was concealed behind a tapestry a little way along the corridor and slipped through it to find Fred and George hiding just behind it, listening to Umbridge and Filch's yells and quaking with suppressed mirth.

‘Impressive,’ Harry said quietly, grinning. ‘Very impressive ... you'll put Dr. Filibuster out of business, no problem ...’

‘Cheers,’ whispered George, wiping tears of laughter from his face. ‘Oh, I hope she tries Vanishing them next ... they multiply by ten every time you try.’

The fireworks continued to burn and to spread all over the school that afternoon. Though they caused plenty of disruption, particularly the firecrackers, the other teachers didn't seem to mind them very much.

‘Dear, dear,’ said Professor McGonagall sardonically, as one of the dragons soared around her classroom, emitting loud bangs and exhaling flame. ‘Miss Brown, would you mind running along to the Headmistress and informing her that we have an escaped firework in our classroom?’

The upshot of it all was that Professor Umbridge spent her first afternoon as Headmistress running all over the school answering the summonses of the other teachers, none of whom seemed able to rid their rooms of the fireworks without her. When the final bell rang and they were heading back to Gryffindor Tower with their bags, Harry saw, with immense satisfaction, a dishevelled and soot-blackened Umbridge tottering sweaty-faced from Professor Flitwick's classroom.

‘Thank you so much, Professor!’ said Professor Flitwick in his squeaky little voice. ‘I could have got rid of the sparklers myself, of course, but I wasn't sure whether or not I had the authority.’

Beaming, he closed his classroom door in her snarling face.

Fred and George were heroes that night in the Gryffindor common room. Even Hermione fought her way through the excited crowd to congratulate them.

‘They were wonderful fireworks,’ she said admiringly.

‘Thanks,’ said George, looking both surprised and pleased. ‘Weasleys’ Wildfire Whiz-bangs. Only thing is, we used our whole stock; we're going to have to start again from scratch now.’

‘It was worth it, though,’ said Fred, who was taking orders from clamouring Gryffindors. ‘If you want to add your name to the waiting list, Hermione, it's five Galleons for your Basic Blaze box and twenty for the Deflagration Deluxe ...’

Hermione returned to the table where Harry and Ron were sitting staring at their schoolbags as though hoping their homework would spring out and start doing itself.

‘Oh, why don't we have a night off?’ said Hermione brightly, as a silver-tailed Weasley rocket zoomed past the window. ‘After all, the Easter holidays start on Friday, we'll have plenty of time then.’

‘Are you feeling all right?’ Ron asked, staring at her in disbelief.

‘Now you mention it,’ said Hermione happily, ‘d'you know ... I think I'm feeling a bit ... rebellious.’

Harry could still hear the distant bangs of escaped firecrackers when he and Ron went up to bed an hour later; and as he got undressed a sparkler floated past the tower, still resolutely spelling out the word ‘POO'.

He got into bed, yawning. With his glasses off, the occasional firework passing the window had become blurred, looking like sparkling clouds, beautiful and mysterious against the black sky. He turned on to his side, wondering how Umbridge was feeling about her first day in Dumbledore's job, and how Fudge would react when he heard that the school had spent most of the day in a state of advanced disruption. Smiling to himself, Harry closed his eyes ...

The whizzes and bangs of escaped fireworks in the grounds seemed to be growing more distant ... or perhaps he was simply speeding away from them ...

He had fallen right into the corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries. He was speeding towards the plain black door ... let it open ... let it open ...

It did. He was inside the circular room lined with doors ... he crossed it, placed his hand on an identical door and it swung inwards ...

Now he was in a long, rectangular room full of an odd mechanical clicking. There were dancing flecks of light on the walls but he did not pause to investigate ... he had to go on ...

There was a door at the far end ... it, too, opened at his touch ...

And now he was in a dimly lit room as high and wide as a church, full of nothing but rows and rows of towering shelves, each laden with small, dusty, spun-glass spheres ... now Harry's heart was beating fast with excitement ... he knew where to go ... he ran forwards, but his footsteps made no noise in the enormous, deserted room ...

There was something in this room he wanted very, very much ...

Something he wanted ... or somebody else wanted ...

His scar was hurting ...

BANG!

Harry awoke instantly, confused and angry. The dark dormitory was full of the sound of laughter.

‘Cool!’ said Seamus, who was silhouetted against the window. ‘I think one of those Catherine wheels hit a rocket and it's like they mated, come and see!’

Harry heard Ron and Dean scramble out of bed for a better look. He lay quite still and silent while the pain in his scar subsided and disappointment washed over him. He felt as though a wonderful treat had been snatched from him at the very last moment ... he had got so close that time.

Glittering pink and silver winged piglets were now soaring past the windows of Gryffindor Tower. Harry lay and listened to the appreciative whoops of Gryffindors in the dormitories below them. His stomach gave a sickening jolt as he remembered that he had Occlumency the following evening.

Harry spent the whole of the next day dreading what Snape was going to say if he found out how much further into the Department of Mysteries Harry had penetrated during his last dream. With a surge of guilt he realised that he had not practised Occlumency once since their last lesson: there had been too much going on since Dumbledore had left; he was sure he would not have been able to empty his mind even if he had tried. He doubted, however, whether Snape would accept that excuse.

He attempted a little last-minute practice during classes that day, but it was no good. Hermione kept asking him what was wrong whenever he fell silent trying to rid himself of all thought and emotion and, after all, the best moment to empty his brain was not while teachers were firing revision questions at the class.

Resigned to the worst, he set off for Snape's office after dinner. Halfway across the Entrance Hall, however, Cho came hurrying up to him.

‘Over here,’ said Harry, glad of a reason to postpone his meeting with Snape, and beckoning her across to the corner of the Entrance Hall where the giant hour-glasses stood. Gryffindor's was now almost empty. ‘Are you OK? Umbridge hasn't been asking you about the DA, has she?’

‘Oh, no,’ said Cho hurriedly. ‘No, it was only ... well, I just wanted to say ... Harry, I never dreamed Marietta would tell . .’

‘Yeah, well,’ said Harry moodily. He did feel Cho might have chosen her friends a bit more carefully; it was small consolation that the last he had heard, Marietta was still up in the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey had not been able to make the slightest improvement to her pimples.

‘She's a lovely person really,’ said Cho. ‘She just made a mistake—’

Harry looked at her incredulously.

‘A lovely person who made a mistake?She sold us all out, including you!’

‘Well ... we all got away, didn't we?’ said Cho pleadingly. ‘You know, her mum works for the Ministry, it's really difficult for her—’

‘Ron's dad works for the Ministry too!’ Harry said furiously. ‘And in case you hadn't noticed, he hasn't got sneak written across his face—’

‘That was a really horrible trick of Hermione Granger's,’ said Cho fiercely. ‘She should have told us she'd jinxed that list—’

‘I think it was a brilliant idea,’ said Harry coldly. Cho flushed and her eyes grew brighter.

‘Oh yes, I forgot —of course, if it was darling Hermione‘s idea—’

‘Don't start crying again,’ said Harry warningly.

‘I wasn't going to!’ she shouted.

‘Yeah ... well ... good,’ he said. ‘I've got enough to cope with at the moment.’

‘Go and cope with it then!’ Cho said furiously, turning on her heel and stalking off.

Fuming, Harry descended the stairs to Snape's dungeon and, though he knew from experience how much easier it would be for Snape to penetrate his mind if he arrived angry and resentful, he succeeded in nothing but thinking of a few more things he should have said to Cho about Marietta before reaching the dungeon door.

‘You're late, Potter,’ said Snape coldly, as Harry closed the door behind him.

Snape was standing with his back to Harry, removing, as usual, certain of his thoughts and placing them carefully in Dumbledore's Pensieve. He dropped the last silvery strand into the stone basin and turned to face Harry.

‘So,’ he said. ‘Have you been practising?’

‘Yes,’ Harry lied, looking carefully at one of the legs of Snape's desk.

‘Well, we'll soon find out, won't we?’ said Snape smoothly. ‘Wand out, Potter.’

Harry moved into his usual position, facing Snape with the desk between them. His heart was pumping last with anger at Cho and anxiety about how much Snape was about to extract from his mind.

‘On the count of three then,’ said Snape lazily. ‘One—two—’

Snape's office door banged open and Draco Malfoy sped in.

‘Professor Snape, sir—oh—sorry—’

Malfoy was looking at Snape and Harry in some surprise.

‘It's all right, Draco,’ said Snape, lowering his wand. ‘Potter is here for a little remedial Potions.’

Harry had not seen Malfoy look so gleeful since Umbridge had turned up to inspect Hagrid.

‘I didn't know,’ he said, leering at Harry, who knew his face was burning. He would have given a great deal to be able to shout the truth at Malfoy—or, even better, to hit him with a good curse.

‘Well, Draco, what is it?’ asked Snape.

‘It's Professor Umbridge, sir—she needs your help,’ said Malfoy.

‘They've found Montague, sir, he's turned up jammed inside a toilet on the fourth floor.’

‘How did he get in there?’ demanded Snape.

‘I don't know, sir, he's a bit confused.’

‘Very well, very well. Potter,’ said Snape, ‘we shall resume this lesson tomorrow evening.’

He turned and swept from his office. Malfoy mouthed, ‘Remedial Potions?’ at Harry behind Snape's back before following him.

Seething, Harry replaced his wand inside his robes and made to leave the room. At least he had twenty-four more hours in which to practise; he knew he ought to feel grateful for the narrow escape, though it was hard that it came at the expense of Malfoy telling the whole school that he needed remedial Potions.

He was at the office door when he saw it: a patch of shivering light dancing on the doorframe. He stopped, and stood looking at it, reminded of something ... then he remembered: it was a little like the lights he had seen in his dream last night, the lights in the second room he had walked through on his journey through the Department of Mysteries.

He turned around. The light was coming from the Pensieve sitting on Snape's desk. The silver-white contents were ebbing and swirling within. Snape's thoughts ... things he did not want Harry to see if he broke through Snape's defences accidentally ...

Harry gazed at the Pensieve, curiosity welling inside him ... what was it that Snape was so keen to hide from Harry?

The silvery lights shivered on the wall ... Harry took two steps towards the desk, thinking hard. Could it possibly be information about the Department of Mysteries that Snape was determined to keep from him?

Harry looked over his shoulder, his heart now pumping harder and faster than ever. How long would it take Snape to release Montague from the toilet? Would he come straight back to his office afterwards, or accompany Montague to the hospital wing? Surely the latter ... Montague was Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, Snape would want to make sure he was all right.

Harry walked the remaining few feet to the Pensieve and stood over it, gazing into its depths. He hesitated, listening, then pulled out his wand again. The office and the corridor beyond were completely silent. He gave the contents of the Pensieve a small prod with the end of his wand.

The silvery stuff within began to swirl very fast. Harry leaned forwards over it and saw that it had become transparent. He was, once again, looking down into a room as though through a circular window in the ceiling ... in fact, unless he was much mistaken, he was looking down into the Great Hall.

His breath was actually fogging the surface of Snape's thoughts ... his brain seemed to be in limbo ... it would be insane to do the thing he was so strongly tempted to do ... he was trembling ... Snape could be back at any moment ... but Harry thought of Cho's anger, of Malfoy's jeering face, and a reckless daring seized him.

He took a great gulp of breath, and plunged his face into the surface of Snape's thoughts. At once, the floor of the office lurched, tipping Harry head-first into the Pensieve ...

He was falling through cold blackness, spinning furiously as he went, and then—’

He was standing in the middle of the Great Hall, but the four house tables were gone. Instead, there were more than a hundred smaller tables, all facing the same way, at each of which sat a student, head bent low, scribbling on a roll of parchment. The only sound was the scratching of quills and the occasional rustle as somebody adjusted their parchment. It was clearly exam time.

Sunshine was streaming through the high windows on to the bent heads, which shone chestnut and copper and gold in the bright light. Harry looked around carefully. Snape had to be here somewhere ... this was his memory ...

And there he was, at a table right behind Harry. Harry stared. Snape-the-teenager had a stringy, pallid look about him, like a plant kept in the dark. His hair was lank and greasy and was flopping on to the table, his hooked nose barely half an inch from the surface of the parchment as he scribbled. Harry moved around behind Snape and read the heading of the examination paper: DEFENCE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS—ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL.

So Snape had to be fifteen or sixteen, around Harry's own age. His hand was flying across the parchment; he had written at least a foot more than his closest neighbours, and yet his writing was minuscule and cramped.

‘Five more minutes!’

The voice made Harry jump. Turning, he saw the top of Professor Flitwick's head moving between the desks a short distance away. Professor Flitwick was walking past a boy with untidy black hair ... very untidy black hair ...

Harry moved so quickly that, had he been solid, he would have knocked desks flying. Instead he seemed to slide, dreamlike, across two aisles and up a third. The back of the black-haired boy's head drew nearer and ... he was straightening up now, putting down his quill, pulling his roll of parchment towards him so as to reread what he had written ...

Harry stopped in front of the desk and gazed down at his fifteen-year-old father.

Excitement exploded in the pit of his stomach: it was as though he was looking at himself but with deliberate mistakes. James's eyes were hazel, his nose was slightly longer than Harry's and there was no scar on his forehead, but they had the same thin face, same mouth, same eyebrows; James's hair stuck up at the back exactly as Harry's did, his hands could have been Harry's and Harry could tell that, when James stood up, they would be within an inch of each other in height.

James yawned hugely and rumpled up his hair, making it even messier than it had been. Then, with a glance towards Professor Flitwick, he turned in his seat and grinned at a boy sitting four seats behind him.

With another shock of excitement, Harry saw Sirius give James the thumbs-up. Sirius was lounging in his chair at his ease, tilting it back on two legs. He was very good-looking; his dark hair fell into his eyes with a sort of casual elegance neither James's nor Harry's could ever have achieved, and a girl sitting behind him was eyeing him hopefully, though he didn't seem to have noticed. And two seats along from this girl—Harry's stomach gave another pleasurable squirm— was Remus Lupin. He looked rather pale and peaky (was the full moon approaching?) and was absorbed in the exam: as he reread his answers, he scratched his chin with the end of his quill, frowning slightly.

So that meant Wormtail had to be around here somewhere, too ... and sure enough, Harry spotted him within seconds: a small, mousy-haired boy with a pointed nose. Wormtail looked anxious; he was chewing his fingernails, staring down at his paper, scuffing the ground with his toes. Every now and then he glanced hopefully at his neighbour's paper. Harry stared at Wormtail for a moment, then back at James, who was now doodling on a bit of scrap parchment. He had drawn a Snitch and was now tracing the letters ‘L.E.'. What did they stand for?

‘Quills down, please!’ squeaked Professor Flitwick. ‘That means you too, Stebbins! Please remain seated while I collect your parchment! Accio!’

Over a hundred rolls of parchment zoomed into the air and into Professor Flitwick's outstretched arms, knocking him backwards off his feet. Several people laughed. A couple of students at the front desks got up, took hold of Professor Flitwick beneath the elbows and lifted him back on to his feet.

‘Thank you ... thank you,’ panted Professor Flitwick. ‘Very well, everybody, you're free to go!’

Harry looked down at his father, who had hastily crossed out the ‘L.E.’ he had been embellishing, jumped to his feet, stuffed his quill and the exam paper into his bag, which he slung over his back, and stood waiting for Sirius to join him.

Harry looked around and glimpsed Snape a short way away, moving between the tables towards the doors to the Entrance Hall, still absorbed in his own exam paper. Round-shouldered yet angular, he walked in a twitchy manner that recalled a spider, and his oily hair was jumping about his face.

A gang of chattering girls separated Snape from James, Sirius and Lupin, and by planting himself in their midst, Harry managed to keep Snape in sight while straining his ears to catch the voices of James and his friends.

‘Did you like question ten, Moony?’ asked Sirius as they emerged into the Entrance Hall.

‘Loved it, said Lupin briskly. ‘Give five signs that identify the werewolf.Excellent question.’

‘D'you think you managed to get all the signs?’ said James in tones of mock concern.

‘Think I did,’ said Lupin seriously, as they joined the crowd thronging around the front doors eager to get out into the sunlit grounds. ‘One: he's sitting on my chair. Two: he's wearing my clothes. Three: his name's Remus Lupin.’

Wormtail was the only one who didn't laugh.

‘I got the snout shape, the pupils of the eyes and the tufted tail,’ he said anxiously, ‘but I couldn't think what else—’

‘How thick are you, Wormtail?’ said James impatiently. ‘You run round with a werewolf once a month—’

‘Keep your voice down,’ implored Lupin.

Harry looked anxiously behind him again. Snape remained close by, still buried in his exam questions—but this was Snape's memory and Harry was sure that if Snape chose to wander off in a different direction once outside in the grounds, he, Harry, would not be able to follow James any further. To his intense relief, however, when James and his three friends strode off down the lawn towards the lake, Snape followed, still poring over the exam paper and apparently with no fixed idea of where he was going. By keeping a little ahead of him, Harry managed to maintain a close watch on James and the others.

‘Well, I thought that paper was a piece of cake,’ he heard Sirius say. ‘I'll be surprised if I don't get “Outstanding” on it at least.’

‘Me too,’ said James. He put his hand in his pocket and took out a struggling Golden Snitch.

‘Where'd you get that?’

‘Nicked it,’ said James casually. He started playing with the Snitch, allowing it to fly as much as a foot away before seizing it again; his reflexes were excellent. Wormtail watched him in awe.

They stopped in the shade of the very same beech tree on the edge of the lake where Harry, Ron and Hermione had once spent a Sunday finishing their homework, and threw themselves down on the grass. Harry looked over his shoulder yet again and saw, to his delight, that Snape had settled himself on the grass in the dense shadow of a clump of bushes. He was as deeply immersed in the OWL paper as ever, which left Harry free to sit down on the grass between the beech and the bushes and watch the foursome under the tree. The sunlight was dazzling on the smooth surface of the lake, on the bank of which the group of laughing girls who had just left the Great Hall were sitting, with their shoes and socks off, cooling their feet in the water.

Lupin had pulled out a book and was reading. Sirius stared around at the students milling over the grass, looking rather haughty and bored, but very handsomely so. James was still playing with the Snitch, letting it zoom further and further away, almost escaping but always grabbed at the last second. Wormtail was watching him with his mouth open. Every time James made a particularly difficult catch, Wormtail gasped and applauded. After five minutes of this, Harry wondered why James didn't tell Wormtail to get a grip on himself, but James seemed to be enjoying the attention. Harry noticed that his father had a habit of rumpling up his hair as though to keep it from getting too tidy, and he also kept looking over at the girls by the water's edge.

‘Put that away, will you,’ said Sirius finally, as James made a fine catch and Wormtail let out a cheer, ‘before Wormtail wets himself with excitement.’

Wormtail turned slightly pink, but James grinned.

‘If it bothers you,’ he said, stuffing the Snitch back in his pocket. Harry had the distinct impression that Sirius was the only one for whom James would have stopped showing off.

‘I'm bored,’ said Sirius. ‘Wish it was full moon.’

‘You might,’ said Lupin darkly from behind his book. ‘We've still got Transfiguration, if you're bored you could test me. Here ...’ and he held out his book.

But Sirius snorted. ‘I don't need to look at that rubbish, I know it all.’

‘This'll liven you up, Padfoot,’ said James quietly. ‘Look who it is.’ Sirius's head turned. He became very still, like a dog that has scented a rabbit.

‘Excellent,’ he said softly. ‘Snivellus.’

Harry turned to see what Sirius was looking at.

Snape was on his feet again, and was stowing the OWL paper in his bag. As he left the shadows of the bushes and set off across the grass, Sirius and James stood up.

Lupin and Wormtail remained sitting: Lupin was still staring down at his book, though his eyes were not moving and a faint frown line had appeared between his eyebrows; Wormtail was looking from Sirius and James to Snape with a look of avid anticipation on his face.

‘All right, Snivellus?’ said James loudly.

Snape reacted so fast it was as though he had been expecting an attack: dropping his bag, he plunged his hand inside his robes and his wand was halfway into the air when James shouted, ‘Expelliarmus!’

Snape's wand flew twelve feet into the air and fell with a little thud in the grass behind him. Sirius let out a bark of laughter.

‘Impedimenta!’ he said, pointing his wand at Snape, who was knocked off his feet halfway through a dive towards his own fallen wand.

Students all around had turned to watch. Some of them had got to their feet and were edging nearer. Some looked apprehensive, others entertained.

Snape lay panting on the ground. James and Sirius advanced on him, wands raised, James glancing over his shoulder at the girls at the water's edge as he went. Wormtail was on his feet now, watching hungrily, edging around Lupin to get a clearer view.

‘How'd the exam go, Snivelly?’ said James.

‘I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment,’ said Sirius viciously. ‘There'll be great grease marks all over it, they won't be able to read a word.’

Several people watching laughed; Snape was clearly unpopular. Wormtail sniggered shrilly. Snape was trying to get up, but the jinx was still operating on him; he was struggling, as though bound by invisible ropes.

‘You—wait,’ he panted, staring up at James with an expression of purest loathing, ‘you— wait!’

‘Wait for what?’ said Sirius coolly. ‘What're you going to do, Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?’

Snape let out a stream of mixed swear words and hexes, but with his wand ten feet away nothing happened.

‘Wash out your mouth,’ said James coldly. ‘Scourgify!’

Pink soap bubbles streamed from Snape's mouth at once; the froth was covering his lips, making him gag, choking him—’

‘Leave him ALONE!’

James and Sirius looked round. James's free hand immediately jumped to his hair.

It was one of the girls from the lake edge. She had thick, dark red hair that fell to her shoulders, and startlingly green almond-shaped eyes—Harry's eyes.

Harry's mother.

‘All right, Evans?’ said James, and the tone of his voice was suddenly pleasant, deeper, more mature.

‘Leave him alone,’ Lily repeated. She was looking at James with every sign of great dislike. ‘What's he done to you?’

‘Well,’ said James, appearing to deliberate the point, ‘it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean ...’

Many of the surrounding students laughed, Sirius and Wormtail included, but Lupin, still apparently intent on his book, didn't, and nor did Lily.

‘You think you're funny,’ she said coldly. ‘But you're just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone.’

‘I will if you go out with me, Evans,’ said James quickly. ‘Go on ... go out with me and I'll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again.’

Behind him, the Impediment Jinx was wearing off. Snape was beginning to inch towards his fallen wand, spitting out soapsuds as he crawled.

‘I wouldn't go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid,’ said Lily.

‘Bad luck, Prongs,’ said Sirius briskly, and turned back to Snape. ‘OI!’

But too late; Snape had directed his wand straight at James; there was a flash of light and a gash appeared on the side of James's face, spattering his robes with blood. James whirled about: a second flash of light later, Snape was hanging upside-down in the air, his robes falling over his head to reveal skinny, pallid legs and a pair of greying underpants.

Many people in the small crowd cheered; Sirius, James and Wormtail roared with laughter.

Lily, whose furious expression had twitched for an instant as though she was going to smile, said, ‘Let him down!’

‘Certainly,’ said James and he jerked his wand upwards; Snape fell into a crumpled heap on the ground. Disentangling himself from his robes he got quickly to his feet, wand up, but Sirius said, ‘Petrificus Totalus!’ and Snape keeled over again, rigid as a board.

‘LEAVE HIM ALONE!’ Lily shouted. She had her own wand out now. James and Sirius eyed it warily.

‘Ah, Evans, don't make me hex you,’ said James earnestly.

‘Take the curse off him, then!’

James sighed deeply, then turned to Snape and muttered the counter-curse.

‘There you go,’ he said, as Snape struggled to his feet. ‘You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus— ’

‘I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!’

Lily blinked.

‘Fine,’ she said coolly. ‘I won't bother in future. And I'd wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus.’

‘Apologise to Evans!’ James roared at Snape, his wand pointed threateningly at him.

‘I don't want you to make him apologise,’ Lily shouted, rounding on James. ‘You're as bad as he is.’

‘What?’ yelped James. ‘I'd NEVER call you a—you-know-what!’

‘Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you've just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can—I'm surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK.’

She turned on her heel and hurried away.

‘Evans!’ James shouted after her. ‘Hey, EVANS!’

But she didn't look back.

‘What is it with her?’ said James, trying and failing to look as though this was a throwaway question of no real importance to him.

‘Reading between the lines, I'd say she thinks you're a bit conceited, mate,’ said Sirius.

‘Right,’ said James, who looked furious now, ‘right—’

There was another flash of light, and Snape was once again hanging upside-down in the air.

‘Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?’

But whether James really did take off Snape's pants, Harry never found out. A hand had closed tight over his upper arm, closed with a pincer-like grip. Wincing, Harry looked round to see who had hold of him, and saw, with a thrill of horror, a fully grown, adult-sized Snape standing right beside him, white with rage.

‘Having fun?’

Harry felt himself rising into the air; the summer's day evaporated around him; he was floating upwards through icy blackness, Snape's hand still tight upon his upper arm. Then, with a swooping feeling as though he had turned head-over-heels in midair, his feet hit the stone floor of Snape's dungeon and he was standing again beside the Pensieve on Snape's desk in the shadowy, present-day Potion master's study.

‘So,’ said Snape, gripping Harry's arm so tightly Harry's hand was starting to feel numb. ‘So ... been enjoying yourself, Potter?’

‘N-no,’ said Harry, trying to free his arm.

It was scary: Snape's lips were shaking, his face was white, his teeth were bared.

‘Amusing man, your father, wasn't he?’ said Snape, shaking Harry so hard his glasses slipped down his nose.

‘I—didn't—’

Snape threw Harry from him with all his might. Harry fell hard on to the dungeon floor.

‘You will not repeat what you saw to anybody!’ Snape bellowed.

‘No,’ said Harry, getting to his feet as far from Snape as he could. ‘No, of course I w—’

‘Get out, get out, I don't want to see you in this office ever again!’

And as Harry hurtled towards the door, a jar of dead cockroaches exploded over his head. He wrenched the door open and Hew along the corridor, stopping only when he had put three floors between himself and Snape. There he leaned against the wall, panting, and rubbing his bruised arm.

He had no desire at all to return to Gryffindor Tower so early, nor to tell Ron and Hermione what he had just seen. What was making Harry feel so horrified and unhappy was not being shouted at or having jars thrown at him; it was that he knew how it felt to be humiliated in the middle of a circle of onlookers, knew exactly how Snape had felt as his father had taunted him, and that judging from what he had just seen, his father had been every bit as arrogant as Snape had always told him.

魔法部的命令

　　多丽斯·简·昂布瑞吉（最高检察官）代替

　　艾伯斯·丹伯多成为霍格瓦彻魔法学校的

　　校长

　　上面的内容与第28条法令一样

　　签名：康奈斯 奥斯沃德 福吉，魔法部

　　前一天晚上，这条消息就在学校内传遍了，但他们没有解释为什么每一个在城堡的人好象都知道丹伯多战胜过2个傲罗，最高检察官，魔法部部长和他的年少的助理趋于逃亡。不管哈利在城堡的哪里，唯一的谈话主题就是丹伯多的逃走，可是，某些细节可能在一遍遍的重复中漏掉了（哈利无意中听到一个2年级的女孩自信地说，另一个福吉现在正躺在圣芒克医院，头上戴着南瓜），令人惊奇的就是其余准确的消息是什么。每个人都知道，例如，哈利和Marietta是学生中唯一在丹伯多的办公室看到了这见事的，还有，Marietta现在正在医院里，哈利觉得自己被邀请包围住了，人们都想知道第一手的描述。

　　“等不利多不久以后会回来，”Ernie Macmillan在从草药课回来的路上有把握地说，当他专心地听完哈利的故事后。“他们2年级时都没把他赶出去，今年也不能。

　　那个胖修道士告诉我——”他有阴谋地降低了声调，所以哈利，罗恩和荷米恩不得不更加靠近他，“——昂布瑞吉昨天晚上试图进入他的办公室，当他们搜索整个城堡要找到他之后。她不能通过那只怪兽，校长的办公室自己封锁上了。”Ernie得意地笑了。“当然，她很正常地发了脾气。”

　　“噢，我希望她正坐在校长的办公室里幻想，”荷米恩恶意地说，当他们正在上楼梯要回大礼堂时。

　　“统治着其他所有的教师，愚蠢的骄傲，疯狂的老——”

　　“现在，你真的想说完你的话吗，格林佐？”

　　德科拉·马尔夫出现在门后面，后面紧跟着克拉布和高尔。他苍白，尖尖的脸上带着恶意。

　　“恐怕我要扣格兰芬多和赫奇帕奇一些分，”他懒洋洋地说。

　　“只有教师才能扣学院的分数，马尔夫，” Ernie立刻说。

　　“哈，我们也是级长，记得吗？”罗恩咆哮着说。

　　“我知道级长不能扣分，Weasel King，”马尔夫冷笑着说。克拉布和高尔吃吃地窃笑。“但询问组的成员——”

　　荷米恩严厉地说了声‘T’

　　“询问组，格林佐，”马尔夫说，指着一块很小的银子“在我的礼服上级长的徽章后面，”“在魔法部的支持下，挑选出来的最好的学生，昂布瑞吉教授亲自挑选的。总之，询问组的成员可以扣分，所以，格林佐，我会从你那扣除5分因为你侮辱女校长。Macmillan，因为你反驳我，所以扣5分。扣5分那是因为我不喜欢你，波特。威斯里，你的衬衫分开了，所以再扣5分。哦，对，我忘记了，你是一个泥巴种，格林佐，所以扣10分。”

　　罗恩拿出他的魔杖，但荷米恩把他的魔杖拉开，低声说，“不！”

　　“聪明的动作，格林佐，”马尔夫喘着气说。“新的校长，新的时代。乖点，波特，Weasel King。”

　　伴随着恶意的笑声，他大步地和克拉布还有高尔走了。

　　“他是在吓唬人，” Ernie说，看起来很惊骇。“他不能扣分，那会完全破坏级长的系统的。”

　　但哈利，罗恩和荷米恩机械地朝他们身后巨大的计分器转过身。格兰芬多和拉文克劳早上还是并驾齐驱，都是最高的。甚至当他们看的时候，石头向上飞，总分也减少了，实际上，唯一一个似乎没变的就是充满着绿宝石的斯莱特林的砂漏。

　　“你，注意到了吗？”弗莱德的声音说。

　　他和乔治刚刚从大理石楼梯上下来，加入了哈利，罗恩，荷米恩和Ernie，一起在计分器前站着。

　　“马尔夫刚刚扣了我们差不多50分，”哈利狂怒地说，当他们看到更多的石头向上飞离格兰芬多的砂漏。

　　“是啊，Montague试图分裂我们，”乔治说。

　　“你的意思是什么，试图？”罗恩快速地说。

　　“他从来没有命令，”弗莱德说，“这应归于他逼我们进入一楼的消失的橱柜。”

　　荷米恩看起来很震惊。

　　“但你会有麻烦的。”

　　“不，那应该要到Montague再出现，还有几格星期呢，我不知道我们把他送到哪里了，”弗莱德沉着地说。“总之，我们选择不再关心是不是有麻烦。”

　　“你曾经吗？”荷米恩问。

　　“当然了，”乔治说。“从来没被开除，有吗？”

　　“我们总是知道该怎么办，”弗莱德说。

　　“我们偶而会有点小小的困难，”乔治说。

　　“但我们总是短暂地停一下，因为有蓄意的破坏，”弗莱德说。

　　“但现在——”罗恩试探着说。

　　“好的。现在——”乔治说。

　　“——因为丹伯多走了——”弗莱德说。

　　“——我们猜想那些蓄意的破坏——”乔治说。

　　“——绝对是我们亲爱的新校长应得的报答，”弗莱德说。

　　“你不能！”荷米恩低声说。“你真的不能！她正在努力地找个理由开除你！”

　　“你没得到它，荷米恩，不是吗？”弗莱德说，微笑着看着她。“我们不会再关心能在这里待多久。我们要离开这里如果我们不想再为丹伯多做点什么事。所以，总之，”他看了看他的手表，“正在开始逐步进行中。我要去礼堂吃中饭了，如果我是你，你一直站在这里会让教师看见你没任何事情和它做的。”

　　“一些事情和谁做？”荷米恩忧虑地说。

　　“你会看到，”乔治说，“向前跑，现在。”

　　弗莱德和乔治转身离开了，并消失在向下行去吃饭地人群中。看起来非常困惑，Ernie小声地说了些关于还没完成的变形课的作业然后就急忙跑开了。

　　“我想我们应该离开这里，你知道，”荷米恩不安地说。“只是——”

　　“哦，好吧，”罗恩说，然后他们3个向着去礼堂的门走去，但哈利被匆忙行走的人轻轻地打了一下肩时甚至没看一下，然后转身，他发现自己几乎是跟费奇鼻子对鼻子站在一起。他匆匆地后退了几步；费奇在这个距离看得最清楚。

　　“女校长要见你，波特，”他恶意的看着他。

　　“我没那样做，”哈利笨拙地说，想象着弗莱德和乔治正在计划什么。费奇笑得更厉害了。

　　“对不起自己的良心，呃？”他喘息着说。“跟着我。”

　　“我注意到了，”哈利冷淡地说。

　　哈利回头看着罗恩和荷米恩，他们都行担心。他耸耸肩，然后跟着费奇离开礼堂，和那些饥饿学生正好相反。

　　费奇似乎有极好的心情；他在爬大理石楼梯时不停地发出嗡嗡的声音。当他们第一次停下来时，他说，“这里周围的东西都变了，波特。”

　　“是啊。我每年都对丹伯多说对你管得太松了，”费奇说，吃吃地笑了。“你的那些丑恶的小习惯始终改不了，如果你知道我会鞭打你呢，会改吗，现在如果我把你们脚朝上倒挂起来，还会有人对在走廊里扔有毒牙的飞盘没感触吗？但当第29条教育法令出现时，波特，我就可以那些事情。还有她问部长能不能为麻烦的事物签署一个程序。哦, 由于她的掌管这里的事物正在变得非常不同。 昂布瑞吉明显已经控制了费奇,哈利想，而且最坏的是他或许会证明一个重要的武器;他在学校知道的秘密通道或许只有威斯里双胞胎和他才知道。

　　“我们来了，”他说, 哈利敲了昂布瑞吉教授的门并推开它。“波特来了，夫人。” 昂布瑞吉的办公室, 由于哈利已经受过许多禁闭，这个办公室对他来说很熟悉, 一样是木制的一段木头横躺在她的书桌前像往常一样但却写着: 女校长。同时,他的火弩箭还有弗莱德和乔治的横扫扫帚, 他由于一阵剧痛而看见,在书桌后的墙壁上用铁链锁住而且锁着强壮的铁钉。

　　昂布瑞吉正坐在书桌后面,忙碌地在她的粉红色羊皮纸之上潦草地书写，但是她马上抬起头并且向他们微笑。

　　“谢谢你,阿格斯,”她柔和地说。

　　“不, 夫人用, 不用，” 费奇说, 鞠了一躬，如果他的风湿症会允许, 然后向后离开。 “坐下,”昂布瑞吉简略地说, 指向一张椅子。哈利坐下。她继续潦草地书写。他看着在她的头的后面一些污秽的碟子上的小猫,觉得她很奇怪。

　　她最后说“很好, 现在，”，放下她的羽毛笔然后看着他, 像一个蟾蜍不能忍受飞行一样。“你愿意喝什么吗？” “什么 ？” 哈利说, 确信他听清楚了她的话。 “要喝什么，波特先生,”她说,笑得更厉害。“茶？ 咖啡？ 南瓜汁？”

　　当她说出了每种饮料的名字的时候,她就挥一下她的魔杖，然后茶杯或玻璃杯就在她的书桌上出现。

　　“不,谢谢你,”哈利说。

　　“我希望你和我喝杯茶,”她说, 她的声音变成危险而甜蜜。“选择一个。” “好吧。茶,”哈利耸耸肩说。

　　她起身并增加了点牛奶后又回来。然后她一边喝一边在书桌周围走来走去,带着恶意的微笑。

　　“在那里,”她说,把它给他。“在它没冷之前, 喝吧,不是吗？ 好,现在,波特先生。我想我们应该谈一下,在昨晚的痛苦事件之后。”

　　他什么也没说。她坐进她的位子之后就等着。安静的几分钟过去了,她突然说,“你不在喝！”

　　他端起杯子对着他的嘴唇,突然,放下它。在昂布瑞吉的后面，一个画了小猫的画象里的蓝眼睛，就象疯眼汉的那只有魔法的眼睛一样，这提醒了哈利，疯眼汉曾告诉他不要喝敌人给的任何东西。

　　“怎么了？” 昂布瑞吉说, 仍然看着他。“你想要糖吗？” “不，”哈利说。

　　他再次端起杯子对着他的嘴唇并假装在啜饮,虽然紧紧地将他的嘴闭上。昂布瑞吉的微笑更大了。

　　“好的，” 她耳语道。“非常好。现在。”她稍微转了下身。“艾伯斯·丹伯多在哪里？” “不知道，” 哈利敏捷地说。

　　“喝吧, 喝吧,”她说, 仍然微笑着。“现在，波特先生，我们不玩天真的游戏。我知道你已经知道他去了哪里。你和丹伯多一开始就是在一起的。“考虑你的立场，波特先生。” “我不知道他在哪里,” 哈利重复道。

　　他再次假装喝。她正在非常近地看着他。

　　“非常好，” 她说，虽然她看起来不高兴。“如果在那种情况下，你将会很快的告诉我天狼星布莱克的下落。” 哈利的胃翻转了，他的手握住茶杯以便它不在茶碟中嘎嘎响得太厉害。他把杯子倾斜并对他的嘴, 但一些热的液体滴到他的宽松长袍上。 “我不知道，”他说，有点儿快。

　　“波特先生，”昂布瑞吉说，“让我提醒一下你，在十月我在格兰芬多的火炉里几乎捉到了他。我完全知道它是来见你, 他遇见你了，如果我有证明，那么你今天不会是自由自在的了，我答应你。我重复一遍，波特先生。天狼星布莱克在哪里？'“不清楚，”哈利大声地说。“没有任何线索。”

　　他们盯着彼此看如此长的时间，哈利感到他的眼睛似乎湿了。 然后昂布瑞吉站了起来。 “非常好的，波特，我将会记得你所说的话, 但是要警告你:魔法部是支持我的。这所学校被监视着。一个飞路粉网络调整者正在霍格瓦彻的每个火炉里警戒——除了我的自己以外，当然。我的检察官会打开并看所有的猫头鹰带入或带离城堡的每封信。还有，费奇先生也在观察所有的秘密通道包括城堡外面的。如果我能找到一个碎布条的证据。”

　　嘣！

　　办公室的地板摇了起来。昂布瑞吉滑倒了,勉强抓住她的书桌, 看起来很震惊。 “是什么——？”

　　她正在向门凝视。哈利用这个机会倒空他的杯子——倒进最近的花瓶里。 他可以听到人们在地板下面跑并尖叫。 “去吃你的午餐，波特！” 昂布瑞吉喊道, 拿起她的魔杖并冲出办公室。哈利给了她几秒钟离开, 然后匆忙地跟在她后面看是什么在吵闹。 它是行容易找到的。只用下一层楼，那里相当混乱。某人（而且哈利很机灵的知道是谁）让一个巨大的板条箱里像是施了魔法的烟火全爆发出来。

　　绿色的龙和金色的火花在走廊飞来飞去，发出炽热的风和巨大的响声，当他们经过时，直径5英尺长的Catherine，带着致命的危险象飞碟一样在空中旋转;有着长尾巴的火箭在墙上一边弹跳一边喷出银色并闪闪发光的星星；宝石正在半空中自动地写咒语;哈利看到哪里都有爆竹像地雷一样不停地爆炸，除非它们发出咝咝声才会停止，这些烟火的奇迹充满了动力和能量。

　　费奇和昂布瑞吉站着, 显然被这件事吓呆了，下楼梯的时候停了下来。当哈利看的时候,一个比较大的Catherine轮子像是决定它需要更多的房间来飞一样;它向昂布瑞吉和费奇旋转着飞去，一边发出凶恶的'wheeeeeeeeee'的声音。他们俩都由于惊骇而大叫并摔倒了，然后它从他们后面窗户飞了出去穿过草地。同时，一些龙和一个大的紫色的蝙蝠在走廊的末端穿过开着的门逃到二楼了。

　　“快,费奇,快！” 昂布瑞吉尖叫着说，“他们会充满整个学校的，如果我们不做任何事情—昏昏倒地]。”

　　她的魔杖的喷出红光并击中了一个火箭。与其说它是在半空中冻住了，还不如说它由于这个而爆炸开了，它还在一幅画里的一个看上去浑身湿透的男巫所站的草坪上，撞出了一个洞；她及时跑出去，几秒钟后又再出现了，并冲进了下一幅画里,在夫妇玩牌的男巫匆忙地站起来让位给她。

　　“别让他们晕倒，费奇，”昂布瑞吉愤怒地喊道，好像世界上所有的事物都在他的咒语里了。

　　“你是对的,女校长！”费奇喘息着说，他看起来已经不能再忍受任何一个爆竹的爆炸了。他把半空中的一个烟火猛掷到一个附近的食橱, 拉了一把扫帚并开始用力打那些东西；于是那个扫帚的头便着火了。 哈利已经看够了；笑了起来，他低下头小跑起来，跑向一扇门，他知道在门后的一段走廊里能找到弗莱德和乔治，弗莱德和乔治正在听昂布瑞吉和费奇大叫并努力忍住不笑出声。

　　“感人，” 哈利安静地说，露齿而笑。“非常感人。你会让Dr Filibuster发疯的，毫无疑问。”

　　“庆祝，”乔治低声说，一边擦掉他脸上由于太高兴而流下的泪。“哦，我希望她接下来能用消失咒语来弄它们。那样的话，每试一次它们就增加10倍。”

　　那些烟火继续燃烧，下午还在整个学校扩散开来。虽然它们引起了许多崩溃，特别是那些爆竹，其他的教师似乎不是那么很介意它们。

　　“亲爱的，亲爱的，”麦格教授讽刺地说道，当一条龙在她的教室里飞来飞去时，发出巨大的响声和炽热的火舌，“布朗小姐，你不介意跑去女校长那里并通知她我们的教室里有一个逃亡的烟火吧？”

　　结果，昂布瑞吉教授花了她当女校长的第一个下午在学校里跑来跑去，回答其他教师的召唤，似乎没有一个教师是能把烟火赶出教室而不需要她的。当最后的铃声响起之后，他们都背着书包闹哄哄地回到格兰芬多塔了，哈利看见，带着非常满足的表情，蓬乱的头发和象煤炭一样的昂布瑞吉蹒跚地离开了弗立维教授的教室。

　　“非常感谢你，教授！”弗立维教授用他吱吱响的小声音说。“我自己也能把火花赶出去，当然，但我不确定我有没有权利。”

　　嘣，他关上他的教室门，没理她脸上愤怒的表情。

　　那天晚上，在格兰芬多的公共休息室里弗莱德和乔治成了英雄。甚至连荷米恩也吃惊地穿过兴奋的人群去庆祝他们。

　　“它们是很棒的烟火，”她钦佩地说。

　　“谢谢，”乔治说，看起来很惊讶和高兴。“威斯里烟火专家—巨响。唯一的事情是，我们用了我们所有的原料；我们现在又要象刚开始一样凑合着了。”

　　“这是值得的，虽然，”弗莱德说，他正在对格兰芬多的学生演讲。“如果你想把你的名字加进等候单，荷米恩，这里是你的初步燃烧箱子的5个加隆还有20个是豪华爆炸的东西。”

　　荷米恩转向桌子当哈利和罗恩都坐着，望着书包好象在希望他们的家庭作业能自己跳出来并开始自己做作业。

　　“哦，为什么我们晚上不休息一下？”荷米恩大声说，当一个有银色尾巴的威斯里火箭从窗子穿过。

　　“毕竟，复活节假日星期5就开始了，我们就有大把时间了。”

　　“你还正常吧？”罗恩说，怀疑地注视着她。

　　“现在你提到它了，”荷米恩开心地说，“你知道吗。我想了许多，造反。”

　　哈利还能听见逃亡的爆竹发出的巨大响声，当他和罗恩比平常晚了一个小时才去睡觉时；当他脱下衣服时，一个火花经过了塔，那个火花仍然坚决地写下了‘TOO’。

　　他爬上床，打了个哈欠。没有眼镜，偶然在窗外经过的火箭变得很模糊，看起来象闪闪发光的云，在黑云上现得神秘和美丽。他翻了个身，想象着昂布瑞吉对于她取代丹伯多的工作的第一天会怎样想，还有当福吉听到学校花了差不多整天在崩溃中度过会有什么反应。他笑了一下，闭上眼睛。

　　飕飕的声音还有逃亡的烟花弄出的巨大响声仍然在草地上回荡，当听起来似乎很远。或者，他只是太困了，听不清。

　　他落在一个走廊里，然后走到一个神秘的房间里。他站在一个朴素的黑门前。打开它。打开它。

　　它打开了。他正站在一个圆形的房间里，周围是一列门。他穿过房间，把他的手放在一个与第一个门完全相同的门把上，打开了。

　　现在他站在一个很长的，直角的房子，充满了机械的咔哒声。墙上有在跳舞的斑点，但他没停下来研究。他要继续走。

　　在远远的末端有一个门，它一样，他一碰就开了。

　　现在他在一个光线朦胧的房间里，房间十分大，象教堂一样，没有东西除了一排排高耸的架子，每个架子上都装满了小的，肮脏的，玻璃做的球体。现在哈利的心由于刺激而跳动得更快了。他知道要去哪里了。他向前跑，但他的脚步没发出任何响声在这个巨大的，废弃的房间。

　　这个房间里有他想要的东西非常想要，非常。

　　他想要的一些东西，或其他人也想要。

　　他的伤疤在痛。

　　嘣！

　　哈利立刻醒了，困惑并愤怒。黑暗的宿舍充满了笑声。

　　“酷！”西姆斯说，他的影子靠着窗子。“我想一个Catherine轮子撞上了一个火箭然后它们合并在一起了，来看吧！”

　　哈利听到罗恩和迪安爬下窗去看了。他依然安静地待着直到他的伤疤不再痛了，然而，失望淹没了他。他感到一个完美宴会在最后却被他破坏了。他当时是那么地接近。

　　闪烁的粉色和银色在格兰芬多塔的窗子外面飞来飞去。哈利躺下来，听着格兰芬多的学生在他下面的宿舍发出激动的哎哟声。他的胃象得病了一样痛了一下，当他想起他接下来的晚上还有思维闭锁术。

　　*

　　哈利第2天花了一整天梦想斯内普会说什么，如果他知道他昨晚在梦里在神秘的房间里走了那么远的话。他突然感到十分内疚因为他没练习思维闭锁术，自从他们的最后一节课开始：自从丹伯多走了之后有太多的事情留下；他确信自己没法不思考东西除非他累了。他怀疑，然而，不论斯内普会怎样接受那个理由。

　　那天他企图用每节课的最后几分钟练习，但效果不好。荷米恩不停地问他怎么了，不论他试图把思绪赶出自己的大脑而安静一下或平静一下情绪，毕竟，让他的大脑空白的最好的时间不是教师在课堂上订正答案的那段时间。

　　服从了恶劣的情形，他晚饭后出发去斯内普的办公室。半路上经过礼堂，然而，秋急忙赶上他。

　　“这里，”哈利说，很高兴找到一个理由能拖延和斯内普见面的时间，然后在巨大的记分器前向她招手。格兰芬多现在差不多是空的了。“你还好吧？昂布瑞吉没问你关与丹伯多的军队的事情吧，她问了吗？”

　　“哦，没，”秋急忙说。“好吧，我只是想说。哈利。我从来没想过Marietta会告诉。”

　　“是啊，好的，”哈利生气地说。他感到秋选择朋友时更细心了；小小的安慰，当他最后听到Marietta还在医院，还有Pomfrey女士对她的丘疹没一点改善时。

　　“她确实是个可爱的人，”秋说。“她只是犯了个错误——”

　　哈利怀疑地看着她。

　　“一个可爱的人只是犯了个错误？她出卖了我们，包括你！”

　　“好吧，我们逃离了，不是吗？”秋恳求地说。“你知道，她的妈妈在魔法部工作，这对她来说很难——”

　　“罗恩的爸爸也在魔法部工作！”哈利狂怒地说。“实际上你没注意到，他还根本就没有偷偷地做过任何——”

　　“那真是荷米恩·格林佐的一个糟糕的诡计，”秋厉害地说。“她应该告诉我们她为那单字而倒霉——”

　　“我认为那是个聪明的主意，”哈利冷淡地说。秋的脸红了，她的眼睛变得更大了。

　　“哦，是的，我忘了——当然，如果这个是亲爱的荷米恩的主意——”

　　“不要再说了，”哈利的声音带着警告。

　　“我没打算那样！”她喊道。

　　“是啊，好的，好，”他说。“我那时已经足够应付了。”

　　“去，然后和它竞争！”秋吵闹地说，转身走了。

　　冒烟，哈利下楼梯再次走到了斯内普的地牢里了，好象他由经验知道在斯内普看穿他的思想之前，如果他感到生气和愤怒的话，早到那里会容易得多，他什么都没成功但却想该对秋说一些关于Marietta事情在他到地牢的门之前。

　　“你迟到了，波特。”当哈利把门关上时，斯内普冷冰冰地说。

　　斯内普背对哈利站着，和以往一样，小心地移出部分记忆放置进丹伯多的冥想盆中。他把最后一束银色丝线放入石盆，然后转身面对哈利。

　　“那么，”他说，“你有没有坚持练习？”

　　“有。”哈利说谎了，他认真地盯着斯内普办公桌的一条桌子腿。

　　“好吧，我们马上就能知道了，是吗？”斯内普语调平滑地说，“拿出魔杖，波特。”

　　哈利走到他通常站的位置，隔着桌子面对着斯内普。他的心因为对秋的愤怒和担心斯内普打算从他的脑子里攫取多少记忆而跳得飞快。

　　“数到三开始，”斯内普懒洋洋地说，“一——，二——”

　　斯内普办公室的门“砰”地一声被撞开了，德拉科-马尔夫冲了进来。

　　“斯内普教授，先生——哦——对不起——”

　　马尔夫带着几分惊讶地瞧着斯内普和哈利。

　　“没关系，德拉科，”斯内普说着，放低了魔杖，“波特在这里补一点魔药课。”

　　自打昂布瑞吉突然出现审查了哈格力以后，哈利还没有见马尔夫这么开心过。

　　“我不知道，”马尔夫狡猾地瞧着哈利，哈利知道自己的脸红了。他恨不能冲着马尔夫大声地把真相说出来——或者，更好的方式，给他来一个厉害的魔咒。

　　“好了，德拉科，什么事？”斯内普问。

　　“是昂布瑞吉教授，先生——她需要你的帮助。”马尔夫说，“他们找到Montague了，先生，他被反锁在四楼的一个厕所里了。”

　　“他怎么会给锁进去的？”斯内普询问到。

　　“我不知道，先生，他有一点神志不清。”

　　“很好，很好。波特，”斯内普说，“我们把补课时间改到明天晚上。”

　　他转身大步走出了办公室。在跟出去之前，马尔夫在斯内普背后很夸张地冲着哈利说：“魔药补课？”

　　哈利激动地重新把魔杖塞回长袍里准备离开。至少他还有24小时可以练习；他知道自己应该对侥幸逃脱这堂课而感到感激，虽然为此付出的代价也很高：马尔夫会告诉全校的人他需要接受魔药补课。

　　他走到办公室门口时忽然注意到：有一片抖动的光斑在门框上舞蹈。他停了下来，站在那里注视着它，想起了什么事……，然后他记起来了：这有点象昨天晚上他梦里看见的光，那道他在神秘事物司里走动时穿过的第二个房间里的光。

　　他转过身。那光线就出自斯内普桌上的冥想盆。那银白色的容物在盆中东西起伏着，旋转着。斯内普的记忆……，那是万一哈利在练习中意外地突破他的防御后，他绝对不想让哈利看见的东西。

　　哈利紧盯着这只冥想盆，强烈的好奇从他心中涌出……，什么样的记忆让斯内普如此急切地要向哈利隐瞒呢？

　　银色的光斑在墙上抖动着……，哈利又向桌子走近了两步，努力地思考着。这会不会是斯内普打定主意不让他知道的有关神秘事物司的信息呢？

　　哈利扭头看看身后，现在他的心比什么时候都跳得更急更快。斯内普要花多少时间才能把Montague从厕所里弄出来？事后他是会直接回办公室，还是护送Montague去医院？很明显是后者……，Montague是斯莱特林魁地奇队的队长，斯内普一定要确定他没问题了才行。

　　哈利几步走到桌边，低头看着冥想盆，凝视着它的深处。他犹豫了，他倾听着，然后再次抽出了魔杖。办公室和走廊的尽头一片寂静。他用自己的魔杖尖在冥想盆中的容物上轻轻点了一下。

　　盆中的银色物体开始飞速旋转起来。哈利向前倾过身子，看着它变得透明。他又一次从上方向下看到一个房间的内部，就好象是从天花板的一扇圆形窗户里往下看……，事实上，除非是他弄错了，要不然，他正在看的房间就是礼堂。

　　他的呼吸真的在斯内普的记忆体表面形成了一层雾气……，他的大脑似乎处在地狱的边缘……，作这样一件他被如此强烈地吸引着要去做的事是十分疯狂的……，他颤抖着……，斯内普随时都会回来……，但是哈利想到了秋的愤怒，想到了马尔夫那张嘲弄的面孔，一股不计后果的勇气攫住了他。

　　他猛吸了一口气，然后把脸投入斯内普思维体的表面。办公室的地板立即倾斜过来，把哈利头朝下地倒进冥想盆……

　　他在一片冰冷的黑暗中坠落，不停地旋转着，接着——

　　他站在礼堂的中央，但是四学院的桌子不见了。取而代之的是百多张小桌子，全都面朝一个方向摆放，每张桌前坐着一个学生，低着头，在一卷羊皮纸上飞快地书写着。礼堂里唯一的声音就是羽毛笔的书写声，或是偶尔有某人更改答案时在羊皮纸上发出的刮擦声。很明显，现在在考试。

　　阳光从高高的窗里流淌下来，投射在学生们低垂的头上，在明亮的阳光里闪耀出栗色、铜色和金色的光。哈利往四下里仔细打量。斯内普一定就在这里……，这是他的记忆……。

　　他就在那儿，就在哈利身后的一张桌子边。哈利凝视着他。少年斯内普外表纤细，苍白，就象一株生长在黑暗中的植物。他的头发平直而油腻，一直垂到桌子上，他的鹰钩鼻距离他正在飞快书写的羊皮纸几乎还不到半英寸。哈利绕到斯内普身后，看考试卷上的题目，上面写着：《黑魔法防御术——普通巫师等》。

　　那么，这时的斯内普一定是15或16岁，大约是哈利自己的年纪。他的笔在羊皮纸上飞速移动；他的论文比他的邻桌至少长出一英尺，而且他的字还写得又小又密。

　　“还有五分钟！”

　　这声音把哈利吓了一大跳。他转过身，看见不远处弗立维教授的头顶部分在课桌间移动。弗立维教授从一个有着一头黑色乱发的男孩身边走过……非常凌乱的黑发……

　　哈利跑得如此之快，如果他是实体的话，一定已经把桌子撞飞了。相反，他就象梦一般滑行，穿过两个过道，来到第三排桌子。那个黑发男孩的背影越来越近……，他现在坐直了身子，放下了羽毛笔，把自己的那卷羊皮纸往回拉了一下，这样他可以把自己的答案重读一遍……

　　哈利停在桌前，低头注视着自己15岁的父亲。

　　哈利的胃里爆出一阵兴奋感：这就好象他在看着一个错版的自己。詹姆的眼睛是浅褐色的，他的鼻子比哈利的略长一些，而且他的额头上也没有伤疤，但他们都有着一样瘦削的脸，一样的嘴唇，一样的眉毛；詹姆的头发也是在脑后直立着，和哈利的完全一样，他的手可以当作哈利的手，而且哈利可以断定，詹姆站起来的时候，他们的身高也差不了多少。

　　詹姆大大地打了个哈欠，把头发向上揉捏，把它搞得比刚才还要凌乱。接着，朝弗立维教授瞥了一眼后，他在座位上转过身，向着坐在他后面第四排位置的一个男孩咧嘴一笑。

　　又是另一阵兴奋的冲击，哈利看见天狼星向着詹姆竖了竖大拇指。天狼星懒洋洋地坐在椅子里，向后倾斜着让椅子只用两条腿着地。他生得非常好看；黑色的头发带着几分不经意的优雅垂下来遮住了眼睛，这种优雅无论是詹姆还是哈利都是无法达到的，坐在天狼星身后的一个女孩满怀希望地注视着他，虽然他看来根本没有注意到。而和这个女孩隔两个位子——哈利高兴得胃里又一阵搅动——坐着的是卢平。他看上去相当苍白而憔悴（是因为快到满月了吗？），正全神贯注于考试：当他检查答案时，他用羽毛笔的毛尖刮擦着下巴，微微皱着眉。

　　那么这就意味着，虫尾巴一定也在附近的什么地方……，没错，哈利一下子就认出了他来：那个小个子、老鼠样头发，尖鼻子的男孩。虫尾巴看起来非常担忧；他咬着自己的手指甲，低头盯着试卷，用脚指头在地上蹭来蹭去。每隔一会就充满希望地往邻桌的试卷上瞟。哈利盯着虫尾巴看了一会，然后把眼睛转向詹姆，詹姆现在正在一小片羊皮纸上乱涂乱画打发时间。他已经画了一个飞贼，现在正在描画两个字母：“L·E·”。这代表了什么意思？

　　“请放下笔！”弗立维教授尖声叫到，“也包括你，斯达宾斯！我收试卷的时候请留在座位上！飞来飞去！”

　　一百多卷羊皮纸猛地腾空而起，飞进弗立维教授伸出的双臂里，把他撞得向后跌坐在地。有人大笑起来。几个前排的学生站起来，托着弗立维教授的双肘把他从地上扶起来。

　　“谢谢……，谢谢你们。”弗立维教授喘着气说，“很好，诸位，你们可以走了！”

　　哈利低头看着父亲，后者匆匆忙忙地把那个他刚在修饰的字母“L·E·”涂掉，从座位上跳起来，把羽毛笔和考试卷塞进书包，往肩上一甩，站在那里等天狼星过来和他会合。

　　哈利往周围看看，瞥见斯内普就在不远处，一边在桌子间向通往门廊的门移动，一边仍一门心思地看着自己的考卷。他有些弯腰驼背，动作僵硬，走起路来好象在痉挛，让人联想到一只大蜘蛛，他油腻的头发在脸上跳动着。

　　一群唧唧喳喳的女生把斯内普和詹姆、天狼星还有卢平他们分开了，哈利让自己走在他们中间，决意把斯内普保持在视线范围之内，同时也竖起耳朵仔细捕捉詹姆和他朋友们的声音。

　　“你喜欢第十题吗，月亮脸？”当他们进入门廊时天狼星问。

　　“真爱死了，”卢平兴致勃勃地说，“写出狼人的五种鉴别标志。好题目。”

　　“你觉得你能把所有那些标志都写出来吗？”詹姆装模做样地问道。

　　“我想我行，”卢平认真地说，这时他们加入到围在前门急着要到外面阳光照耀的场地上去的人群里，“一：他正坐在我的椅子里。二：他正穿着我的衣服。三：他的名字叫卢平。”

　　虫尾巴是唯一一个没有笑的人。

　　“我答出了猪嘴形状，眼睛的瞳孔还有成簇状的尾巴，”他忧心忡忡地说，“可是我想不出另外两个——”

　　“你有多呆啊，虫尾巴？”詹姆不耐烦地说，“你每月一次跟着一个狼人到处跑——”

　　“你小声些。”卢平哀求道。

　　哈利不安地再次往身后瞧。斯内普就在附近逗留，仍然埋头看着自己的考试卷——不过这是斯内普的记忆，哈利肯定，如果一到外面的场地上，斯内普选择往相反方向溜达，他，哈利，就再也不能跟着詹姆往前走了。当詹姆和他的三个朋友沿着草坪向湖边走去时，斯内普跟在后面，仍然埋首于试卷，而且显然没有打定主意要往哪里走，无论如何，这让哈利深感高兴。哈利在斯内普前面保持一定距离，他决意要近距离看着詹姆和其他人。

　　“哦，我认为这次考试是小菜一碟，”他听见天狼星说，“我至少也能得个‘优秀’，如果不是才奇怪呢。”

　　“我也是。”詹姆说。他把手伸进口袋里，掏出一个正在挣扎的金飞贼。

　　“你从哪里弄到的？”

　　“偷来的。”詹姆漫不经心地说。他开始玩弄金飞贼，让它飞出至少一尺远再把它抓回来；他的反应能力极佳。虫尾巴满是敬畏地看着。

　　他们在湖边一棵山毛榉树的阴影里停下，就是在这棵树下，哈利、罗恩和荷米恩在星期天完成作业后，会让自己扑倒在这里的草坪上。哈利回头再看了一下，让他高兴的是，只见斯内普坐在了一丛灌木丛浓密的阴影里。他和刚才一样，仍然在对着普通巫师等级考试试卷苦思冥想，因此哈利可以自在地坐在山毛榉树和灌木丛之间的草地上，看着树下的那四人组。阳光在平静的湖面上反射出令人眼花缭乱的光芒，湖边坐着一群刚从大堂里出来的女孩，她们说笑着，脱去鞋袜，把脚浸在水里清凉一下。

　　卢平抽出一本书来开始阅读。天狼星只是四下里盯着在草地上跑来跑去的学生，看起来相当的傲慢又无聊，但因此也显得非常的英俊。

　　詹姆仍在玩那只金飞贼，他让它窜得越来越远，几乎都要让它逃脱了，但他总能在最后一秒钟把它抓回来。虫尾巴张大了嘴巴看着。每当詹姆作出一次难度极高的抓捕，虫尾巴都喘着大气拍手喝彩。这样玩了五分钟后，哈利想知道，为什么詹姆不让虫尾巴自己也抓一次玩，但是看来詹姆非常享受这种受人关注的感觉。哈利注意到他的父亲还有喜欢把头发往上方弄乱的习惯，就好象不愿意让头发显得太整洁，而且他还不住地往湖对岸的女孩那边瞧。

　　“停一下，行吗，”当詹姆作出一次完美的抓捕，而虫尾巴发出一声响亮的喝彩后，天狼星终于开口了，“要不虫尾巴兴奋得都要尿裤子了。”

　　虫尾巴微微红了脸，不过詹姆却咧嘴一笑。

　　“如果这让你心烦的话。”他说着就把金飞贼塞回了口袋。哈利有一种明显的感觉：天狼星是唯一一个能让詹姆不再炫耀的人。

　　“我很无聊，”天狼星说，“希望今天是满月。”

　　“你会的，”卢平从书本后面阴郁地说，“我们还有变形术要考，如果你觉得无聊，你可以来考我。给你……”他把自己的书递给天狼星。

　　但是天狼星从鼻子里哼了一声：“我不需要看那些垃圾，我全知道。”

　　“那会让你活跃起来的，大脚板，”詹姆静静地说，“瞧那是谁……”

　　天狼星转过头去。他突然一动不动，就象一只嗅到兔子的狗。

　　“好极了，”他柔声说，“鼻涕虫斯内普。”

　　哈利转身去看天狼星在看什么。

　　斯内普又站了起来，正把普通巫师等级考卷往书包里塞。当他离开灌木丛的阴影，准备穿过草坪时，天狼星和詹姆站了起来。

　　卢平和虫尾巴都坐着没有动：卢平仍然低头紧盯着自己的书本，但他的眼睛根本没有移动，眉尖有一道浅浅的皱痕；虫尾巴的目光轮流从天狼星、詹姆和斯内普身上掠过，脸上带着一种渴望能发生什么的表情。

　　“好吗，鼻涕虫？”詹姆大声说道。

　　斯内普的反应之激烈就好象他料想到有一次攻击：猛甩掉书包，把手探进长袍，但是他的魔杖刚举到一半，就听詹姆一声大喝：“除你武器！”

　　斯内普的魔杖往空中飞出12英尺高，然后一声轻响落进他身后的草丛里。天狼星发出一阵刺耳的大笑。

　　“障碍重重！”他说着，将魔杖对准了斯内普，后者刚往自己掉落的魔杖扑过去，半路就被撞倒在地。

　　周围的学生都转身观看。他们中的一些人站起身围拢上来。有些露出理解的表情，另一些则很娱乐。

　　斯内普喘息着躺在地上。詹姆和天狼星朝他走过去，手里举着魔杖，詹姆边走还边扭头向湖边的女孩们瞟。虫尾巴现在站了起来，充满饥渴地看着，一边从卢平边上绕开，想看得更清楚些。

　　“考试怎么样，鼻涕虫？”詹姆说。

　　“我瞧着他呢，他的鼻子在羊皮纸上擦来擦去，”天狼星恶毒地说，“那上面一定到处都是大大的油渍，他们压根没法认出一个字。”

　　几个旁观者大笑起来；很明显，斯内普不受欢迎。虫尾巴尖声嗤笑着。斯内普挣扎着想爬起来，但是咒语在他身上仍然起着作用；他挣扎着，就好象被无形的绳索捆住了一样。

　　“你——，等着，”他喘息着说，盯着詹姆，脸上是纯粹的厌恶，“你——，等着！”

　　“等着什么？”天狼星冷冷地说，“你要怎么做，鼻涕虫斯内普，在我们身上擦鼻子？”

　　斯内普破口大骂，连带着许多诅咒的话语，但是他的魔杖掉落在十尺开外，因此什么也没有发生。

　　“把你的嘴洗干净。”詹姆冷淡地说，“Scourgify！”

　　斯内普的嘴里立即喷出了粉红色的肥皂泡沫；他的嘴唇上盖满了肥皂泡，让他呕吐，窒息——

　　“别惹他！”

　　詹姆和天狼星转身查看。詹姆空闲的那只手突然跳到了他的头发上。

　　那是湖边走来的女孩们中的一个。她有一头深红色浓密的及肩长发，还有一双绿得惊人的杏仁眼——哈利的眼睛。 哈利的母亲。 好吗，伊文斯？”詹姆说，他的音调突然间变得令人愉快，更低沉，更成熟。

　　“别招惹他。”莉莉重复道。她看着詹姆的表情没有一处不显出极大的厌恶，“他对你作了什么？”

　　“哦，”詹姆说着，摆出一幅正在考虑要点的样子，“事实上主要是因为他的存在，如果你懂我的意思的话……”

　　绝大多数围观的学生都大笑起来，包括天狼星和虫尾巴，除了卢平——他显然下定决心要埋首于课本了，他没有笑，莉莉也没有。

　　“你觉得你自己很有趣，”她冷冷地说，“可你只不过是个傲慢自大，欺凌弱小的笨蛋，波特。别惹他。”

　　“如果你和我一起出去，我就照办，伊文斯，”詹姆很快地说，“来……跟我一起出去，我永远都不会再把魔杖指着老鼻涕虫了。”

　　在他身后，障碍咒的作用消失了。斯内普开始一英寸一英寸地向他掉落的魔杖爬去，爬的时候，肥皂沫仍然不停地从他嘴里喷出来。

　　“就算让我在你和巨乌贼之间选，我也不会和你一起出去的。”莉莉说。

　　“真不走运，尖头叉子。”天狼星开心地说着，然后转向斯内普，“噢！”

　　可是已经晚了；斯内普已经把魔杖直接对准了詹姆；一道闪光，詹姆一边的脸上出现了一道很深的伤口，鲜血喷洒在他的长袍上。詹姆急速转身：稍后便是第二道闪光，斯内普被头朝下地悬在了半空，他的袍子垂落下来盖住了他的头，露出里面苍白细瘦的双腿，以及一条墨黑的短裤。

　　围观的那一小群人中的大多数都爆出一阵欢呼；天狼星，詹姆和虫尾巴更是狂笑不已。

　　莉莉脸上的狂怒表情瞬间扭曲了一下，就好象她打算微笑一样，她说：“放他下来！”

　　“当然。”詹姆说着，猛地把魔杖抬高；斯内普蜷成一团重重地摔到地上。他从袍子里挣扎出来，立即站起身，抬起魔杖，但是天狼星说：“统统石化！”斯内普再次仰面跌倒，僵硬得好象一块板。

　　“别招惹他！”莉莉吼道。现在她抽出了自己的魔杖。詹姆和天狼星警惕地看着她。

　　“啊，伊文斯，别逼我对你用咒语。”詹姆认真地说。

　　“那就解开他身上的咒语！”

　　詹姆大大地叹了一口气，然后转身面向斯内普，低声吟出破解咒。

　　“走吧，”他说，这时斯内普挣扎着站起身来，“算你走运，伊文斯在这里，鼻涕虫——”

　　“我不需要象她这样肮脏的小泥巴种的帮助！”

　　莉莉眨了眨眼睛。

　　“好啊，”她沉着地说，“那我以后就不操心了。如果我是你的话，我就洗洗你的短裤，鼻涕虫。”

　　“向伊文斯道歉！”詹姆向着斯内普咆哮道，他的魔杖威胁地指向斯内普。

　　“我不要你逼他向我道歉，”莉莉转身对着詹姆叫道，“你和他一样坏。”

　　“什么？”詹姆尖叫，“我从来没说你是——你知道是什么！”

　　“把头发弄得乱七八糟，就因为你认为让自己看起来好象刚从飞天扫帚上下来的话会显得很酷，用那只愚蠢的飞贼到处炫耀，在走廊里走来走去，看谁不顺眼就咒谁，就因为你可以这么干——我真惊讶，有你这样一个大头在上面，你的扫帚居然还能着陆。你让我恶心。”

　　她转身飞快地走开了。

　　“伊文斯！”詹姆冲着她的背影喊，“嗨，伊文斯！”

　　可她连头也没回。

　　“她怎么回事？”詹姆说，他努力让自己看起来就象在问一个对他来说可有可无的问题，不过没有成功。

　　“从她话里的意思看，我得说，她认为你有一点狂妄，伙计。”天狼星说。

　　“好，”詹姆说，现在他看来是真的狂怒不已了，“好——”

　　又一道闪光，斯内普再一次头朝下地被悬到了空中。

　　“谁想看我剥了鼻涕虫的裤衩？”

　　不过哈利永远不会知道詹姆是不是真的脱掉了斯内普的裤衩。一只手紧紧攥住了他的胳膊，紧得就好象一把铁钳。哈利吃痛地转头看是谁在抓他，然后，他惊恐地哆嗦起来，一个完全长大成人的斯内普就站在他边上，愤怒得脸色发白。

　　“很好玩吗？”

　　哈利觉得自己往空中升去；夏日景象在他身边消失；他向上飘进冰冷的黑暗中，斯内普的手仍然紧紧攥着他的胳膊。然后，随着一种俯冲感觉，就好象他在半空中突然来了个转体，他的脚撞在斯内普地下室的地面上，他再一次站在斯内普办公桌上的冥想盆边，站在阴郁的现任魔药课老师的研究室里。

　　“那么，”斯内普说，他把哈利的胳膊抓得这么紧，让哈利觉得自己的手都开始觉得麻木了，“那么，玩得开心吗，波特？”

　　“没——没有。”哈利说着，努力想把胳膊挣脱出来。

　　那景象非常吓人：斯内普双唇颤抖，脸色苍白，他的牙齿都露了出来。

　　“很有趣的人，你父亲，不是吗？”斯内普说着，使劲摇着哈利，把哈利的眼镜都从鼻子上晃下来了。

　　“我——没有——”

　　斯内普用尽全身力气把哈利扔了出去。哈利重重地摔在地下室的地板上。

　　“你不会把你看见的事告诉任何人！”斯内普咆哮道。

　　“不会，”哈利说，站起来尽可能地远离斯内普，“不，我当然不会——”

　　“出去，出去，我永远都不要再在这间办公室里见到你！”

　　当哈利往门口猛跑的时候，一个装满死蟑螂的瓶子在他头上爆裂开来。他猛地打开门，沿着走廊一路狂奔，一直到他和斯内普的办公室隔了三个楼层才停下来。他靠着墙，喘着气，摩擦着他生痛的胳膊。

　　他根本不想这么早就回到格兰芬多的塔楼，也不想和罗恩还有荷米恩说他刚才看见了什么。哈利感到非常恐惧而不愉快，但不是因为斯内普朝他大吼大叫或是把一个瓶子朝他扔过来；而是因为他知道，在一圈围观者中间被当众羞辱是一种什么样的感觉，他完全理解斯内普在詹姆侮辱自己时是一种什么样的感受，而从他刚才看见的场面判断，他的父亲完全和斯内普长久以来对他的描述一样的傲慢。

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