Harry Potter and the Sixth Year

And the Monday morning breakfast a fortnight later was even quieter than usual. The five Gryffindors were joined by Luna. They were earlier than anyone else into the Hall, and ate their meal in a subdued silence. Eventually Hermione got to her feet.

“Come on,” she said.

Without a word the others followed her up to Professor McGonagall’s study. She was waiting for them, a fire flickering in the grate.

“Now then,” she said, after surveying them all, “just remember: tell the court exactly what you saw. No more, no less. If you get asked questions you can’t answer, tell them that. I needn’t tell you how important this trial is. And the people representing the accused may well try and trip you up, or try to get you angry. Just keep calm and tell them what you saw.” She paused. “Are we all ready?”

They nodded in turn.

“Very well, then. The Floo powder is on the mantelpiece. You first, I think, Mr. Potter. You’ll find Mr. Weasley waiting for you at the other end.”

As he emerged spluttering from the fireplace in the Ministry, Harry wandered whether the worst thing that might happen to him that day was to travel by Floo powder. Mr. Weasley hurried forward and started to brush him down.

“There we are,” he said, as Ron emerged from the fireplace.

Soon all six of them were present. Harry looked around the room. There were some comfortable looking chairs and a couple of desks for them.

“The trial’s started,” explained Mr. Weasley. “Legal stuff at the moment. We’re expecting the first witness to be called at around ten thirty.” He paused. “That’ll be you, Harry.”

“Oh,” said Harry numbly. His stomach was tighter than ever. He wished he hadn’t had any breakfast now. He might be sick.

“In the meantime … I see you’ve brought some books … I suggest getting on with something.”

They settled themselves down in chairs, and reached for their books, although only Hermione opened hers. Harry saw Mr. Weasley slipping out of the door. He glanced around at the others. Hermione was happily reading her book, and Luna was staring ahead dreamily. Harry was sure she was humming some tune. Ron was sitting looking down at his hands; Ginny had opened a book, but was staring at it blankly. Neville was slumped in his seat, eyes closed. He wasn’t sleeping, was he?

Harry though he’d better open a book too, but the words swam in front of his eyes. The time dragged by. After what seemed like an age, the door opened, and a wizard called, “Harry Potter!”

Harry stood up and made for the door. He heard a muttered “Good luck!” from Ron, and murmurs from the others. Outside the door were what seemed to be two guards. The wizard smiled at him in what he obviously thought was a re-assuring way, and said: “Follow me!”

The courtroom was familiar; all too familiar. There was a buzz of chatter which stopped the moment Harry entered. He followed the wizard to an empty chair, his vision focussing ahead, but still aware of all the eyes on him. He sat down. Three deep breaths. Then he had time to look around.

Cornelius Fudge was obviously presiding, seated on a raised chair. He glanced around at the crowded room. He recognised some faces – Madam Bones, Mad Eye Moody. Then Mr. Weasley, and to his surprise, Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore. Who was doing any teaching at Hogwarts today?

Then, to his immense surprise, some one stood up – someone he recognised. It was Percy Weasley. So this was why he’d been away from Hogwarts for the past three weeks.

“Your name?”

Harry suddenly realised Percy was talking to him. “Harry Potter.”

Percy was looking at him as though he’d never seen him before – but then he’d had that from Percy before.

“Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

Harry was intrigued to hear the words he’d heard on Muggle television so often before. But he hadn’t been handed a Bible.

“I do.”

“Can you speak up please?” asked Percy, with a slight touch of impatience in his voice.

Harry took three deep breaths. “I do,” he repeated, loud and clear.

“Are you acquainted with the accused, Lucius Malfoy?”

Harry turned his head, and saw him, manacled to his seat. Those hard grey eyes stared intently at him, the face hard and set.

“I am,” he replied.

“Are you going to take the word of a mere boy?” came sneering from Malfoy.

“That is for the court to decide,” said Percy sharply.

“A – disturbed – boy,” Malfoy went on.

Harry felt a sudden rush of rage, and was about to burst out, when he remembered Kingsley’s advice. Three deep breaths.

“You will keep your comments for the appropriate time, or be silenced,” said Percy in his sternest tone. Harry was quite impressed by Percy’s show of authority. It certainly reduced Malfoy back to silence, although he was still aware of that baleful, malevolent stare.

Percy turned back to Harry. “Lucius Malfoy is on trial accused, among other matters, of being a follower of Lord Voldemort – that is, a Death Eater. Please tell the court what you know of the matter.” And he sat down.

The large room, packed as it was, fell completely silent again. Harry took three deep breaths, cleared his throat, and began.

“I first saw Lucius Malfoy in company with Lord Voldemort in the graveyard at Little Hangleton,” he began. A murmur ran round the room, and it was not until Percy stood up again that the court became silent.

“Please carry on,” said Percy.

Harry started with the sighting of the cup at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, how he and Cedric had seized it and been transported away, to arrive in that strange, eerie, graveyard. Then the appearance of Pettigrew, and the cry: “Kill the spare!”

Harry stopped for a moment or two, conscious of the break in his voice. The atmosphere was electric. Three deep breaths. Then he went.

He described how he was tied up, and the charm used to revive Voldemort. As he described the blood, the bone of the father, the flesh of the servant, a whisper of horror broke out. Then the revitalisation of Voldemort.

Fudge stood up and stopped him here.

“You say – as a result of this charm – Voldemort regained his body?”

Harry nodded. “He did.”

Fudge stared at him aghast, then slowly sank back into his seat once more.

Harry went on. The summoning of the Death Eaters. He named names. Finishing with: “Lucius Malfoy.”

“He lies!” came the shout.

But the rumble of hate overcame the solitary voice. Slowly the court room sank back into silence. Harry could see Lucius, baffled, angry. Eventually Percy stood up once more.

“And what happened after that?”

“Voldemort was going to kill me. He challenged me to a duel.”

Percy’s eyebrows went up. “You duelled with Lord Voldemort?” Harry nodded. “Tell us about it.”

This wasn’t easy, either. Partly the sheer difficulty of recalling it all. He was aware of Fudge leaning forward in his seat, mouth open in astonishment. He was aware of the stillness of the court as he spoke. And he was aware of the baleful gaze of Lucius Malfoy.

He finished with the description of how, still holding onto Cedric’s body, he summoned the Cup to him, and so returned to Hogwarts. Aware that his whole body had tensed up through the narrative, he tried as best he could to relax himself and sit back in his chair. But inwardly, he felt cold, empty.

He risked a glimpse round the court room. Almost every eye was on him as wizard muttered to wizard. He saw Professor McGonagall twisting a handkerchief between her fingers. And he saw Dumbledore, sitting back, quite relaxed. Dumbledore caught his eye and gave him a slight smile of encouragement. Weakly, Harry was able to smile back.

Percy rose to his feet yet again.

“And you next saw Lucius Malfoy?” he asked.

This was going to be more tricky. How much to reveal? How much to keep quiet about?

“At the Ministry of Magic, last summer.”

“And the circumstances?”

“He demanded something I was holding.”

“And what was that?”

“A prophecy.”

There was silence for several seconds. Then: “Was he alone?”

“No,” said Harry, on safer ground now. “He was in company with a group of Death Eaters. They were captured in the Ministry, as you know.”

Percy nodded. “And then you saw Lord Voldemort again.”

“Yes. In the entrance hall. And then Professor Dumbledore arrived, and rescued me.”

“Dumbledore and Voldemort duelled?”

Harry hesitated. “Not duelled. But there was certainly a fight.”

“With what result?”

“Voldemort was forced to disappear, together with Bellatrix Lestrange.”

“And have you seen him since?”

“No.”

Percy nodded again. He looked across to Fudge. “No more questions.”

Fudge stood up as Percy sat down. “The defence has some questions?”

A wizard dressed in deep black robes rose to his feet. “Yes, Minister.”

With a shock, Harry recognised him. It was Arbuthnot. But he too looked across to Harry as though he had never seen him before, then looked back to his parchments, shuffling them into order, waiting for the court to become silent again. And still he waited, stretching out the quietness, until he looked across to Harry.

“Mr. Potter.” Another pause. Then: “What an extraordinary story you have for us. Yes. Extraordinary indeed.” He stretched out the silence again.

“Now tell us. Your story about the graveyard – is there anyone else who can back that up?”

“Yes,” said Harry.

“Oh?”

Harry pointed. “Lucius Malfoy.”

Nervous laughter rang round the court, as the tension was broken. Arbuthnot smiled gently as he conceded the point. He waited until the laughter had died down.

“Very clever, Mr Potter. Unfortunately, I think Mr Malfoy’s account might be somewhat different from yours. So you have no … independent … witnesses?”

“No.”

“A pity. But there we are. Now – you tell us that you duelled with Lord Voldemort?”

“Yes.”

“And you survived?”

“Yes.”

“Extraordinary,” Arbuthnot drawled out slowly. “The most powerful wizard of our time – and a fifteen year old schoolboy?”

“I did have some help.”

“Yes, so you say. Spirits of some sort, I believe?”

“Of the last few people killed by Voldemort.”

“Yes, so you say. An old Muggle, Bertha Jorkins, your parents … tell me, how did you know they were your parents? They would have died when you where too young to remember them.”

“Photographs,” said Harry briefly.

“Ah, yes, I see, photographs. An extraordinary tale,” he said, shaking his head. But before Harry could reply, Arbuthnot moved on.

“Now, the Ministry of Magic. How was it you came to be in the Ministry?”

This was going to be tricky. Harry relaxed himself as best he could. He knew Arbuthnot was trying to throw him off, to rattle him. “I had a … vision.”

Arbuthnot’s eyebrows seemed to go even higher. “A vision?” he repeated, sounding mildly incredulous.

“That’s right.”

“And what form did this vision take?”

“Sirius Black was being tortured by Voldemort.”

“Really? No, what I actually meant was, what form did the vision take? A dream? Images?”

Harry hesitated, and saw Arbuthnot note the hesitation. Finally: “I saw it through Voldemort’s eyes.”

There was almost uproar in the court. Harry could see the gleam in Arbuthnot’s eyes. “Through the eyes of Lord Voldemort?” he repeated carefully.

“Yes.”

“Has this happened before?” he asked, almost casually,

“Yes.”

“Tell us more.”

Harry squirmed in his seat. Then he thought: you’re giving yourself away! He tried to imagine it was Snape in front of him, trying to worm the truth out of him.

“I’ve seen through his eyes before,” he eventually said, as carefully as he could, “and some of the things I’d seen – they did happen.”

“Oh?”

“I’d rather not go into details … but someone was attacked. I saw it. I was able to get help for them.”

“You saw someone being attacked? By Voldemort? And they really were being attacked?”

“Yes.”

“Who was this?”

“I’d rather not say. Unless it was absolutely necessary.”

Harry saw Arbuthnot pondering this for some seconds. Then: “And you saw this through Voldemort’s eyes?”

“No, not that time.” said Harry. “Through the eyes of his snake, Nagini.”

Now the court did burst into uproar. Harry wondered if he’d said too much now. But what else could he do.

“Of course,” said Arbuthnot, when things had subsided somewhat, “I was forgetting – you’re a Parselmouth too.”

Harry just nodded. The way things were going, he’d soon seem as bad as Voldemort himself. He could see Fudge deep in a whispered conversation with Percy. Quickly, he glanced round the courtroom. Dumbledore was sitting as before, looking completely impassive. Harry didn’t dare look in Mr. Weasley’s direction.

Then Arbuthnot began again with: “And you saw Sirius Black being attacked in the same way?”

Harry felt a feeling of relief: they’d moved on. “That’s right. But it turned out that Voldemort was tricking me into thinking that.”

“He’d discovered the connection?”

“Something like that.”

“How did you get to the Ministry from Hogwarts?” Arbuthnot asked, with a note of curiosity in his voice.

“Thestrals.”

Now Arbuthnot did look surprised. “Thestrals?”

“Hagrid – the Hogwarts gamekeeper – has been breeding a herd.”

“And could you see them?”

“Not to begin with, when I arrived at Hogwarts – but yes, after seeing Cedric Diggory being killed by Peter Pettigrew, I could,” said Harry, a note of bitterness in his voice.

“Ah.” Harry could see that the comment had hit home. “Yes, well. Now could you describe the events following your arrival at the Ministry?”

On safer ground now, Harry described how they’d found an empty Ministry, then made their way down and had eventually found the prophecy room.

“As I lifted the prophecy from the shelf, Lucius Malfoy appeared and demanded it from me.”

Arbuthnot stopped him. “What if I told you that Mr. Malfoy was concerned with security at the Ministry, and was equally concerned with your meddling with prophecies?”

“I’d ask Mr Malfoy why he felt it necessary to have with him an escort of Death Eaters who had recently escaped from Azkaban.”

Harry could see Arbuthnot trying to hide a grin. That had been such an easy question that Harry felt sure it had been deliberate.

“Go on.”

Harry then described their encounter with the Death Eaters, and the fight that followed. He ended with the disappearance of Sirius. He felt he couldn’t go on after that. The court was silent as he paused, asked for a glass of water.

“Of course.” He was handed a glass, sipped the water then looked up again.

“This prophecy.” Harry had the distinct impression that Arbuthnot was much more interested in the prophecy than the fate of Lucius Malfoy. “What happened to it?”

“It got broken in the fight,” said Harry. “Voldemort was very annoyed about that.”

“So you’ve no idea what the prophecy was about?” asked Arbuthnot innocently.

“None at all,” lied Harry, for the first time that morning.

“A pity, a pity,” Arbuthnot muttered. “Still, there we are.” He turned to Fudge. “I think that concludes the cross examination, Minister.”

The court room was silent for a moment or two more, before a low murmur began, getting louder and louder. Then a voice shouted: “Verdict! Now!” The cry was taken up by more and more people.

Eventually Fudge was forced to his feet. Even so, it took several minutes before the row began to subside. Harry used the opportunity to glance around him: he was slightly shocked by the expressions of hate on many of the faces, distorting them, making them ugly and twisted.

When the court was quiet enough, Fudge turned to Arbuthnot. “Does the defence wish to call any more witnesses?”

Arbuthnot glanced across to Malfoy, who gave the tiniest shake of his head. Suddenly the arrogance had gone from the man: Malfoy seemed somehow shrunken.

Arbuthnot rose. “No.”

Fudge looked up at the court. “Those who find the accused guilty?”

A forest of hands rose into the air. Harry noted that Mr Weasley, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Dumbledore were among those with their hands in the air.

“Thank you. Those who find the accused not guilty.”

One or two hands were raised, but at the sound of the booing and the hissing some wavered and fell back.

“Thank you.” Fudge turned to Malfoy. “The court has found you guilty on the charges …”

But Harry stopped listening. The ordeal was over. For him, at any rate – if not for Lucius Malfoy.

The noise all around him was tremendous. Wizards and witches were on their feet, shaking their fists at Malfoy. Fudge was completely drowned out. Harry could see court officials moving in, trying to calm things down, protecting Malfoy. No one was taking the slightest bit of notice of him. Glancing round, he saw the coast was clear, and slipped out of his seat, making for the door. All the guards were too concerned with the near riot to be worried about him.

He slipped out of the courtroom door and walked down the corridor to the witness room where the others were waiting. He could see the guards outside, wands ready, looking anxious at all the noise.

“It’s over,” he told them, before going in.

The others were sitting slumped in chairs, reading, or trying to read, their books. Ron saw him first and jumped to his feet.

“How did it go?” he asked breathlessly. Harry noticed he was looking very white, his freckles standing out all the more.

“It’s over,” he said again.

“Over?” asked Ron blankly.

“Yeah. Over. The whole thing. They’ve found him guilty.”

The others couldn’t quite take it in.

“The trial’s finished?” asked Ginny.

Harry nodded again. “Yeah.” He was hoarse after the hours of talking.

Luna took his arm. “Come on, sit down. You don’t have to talk.”

He slumped into a chair. Ron was looking rather dazed.

“Does that mean we don’t have to go in there now?”

Hermione muttered something: ‘insensitive’ and ‘idiot’ might have been part of it.

Harry looked up with a slight smile. “No, Ron, I don’t think you’ll have to give evidence.”

“Phew. Thank Heavens for that.” And Ron slumped into a chair opposite Harry.

“So Fudge got the result he wanted?” asked Luna.

“What?”

“Malfoy found guilty.”

“Fudge didn’t have much to do with it. Everyone was yelling like mad.”

Luna was obviously going to go on about this, but at that moment Mr. Weasley and Professor McGonagall burst into the room.

“Harry! Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Thanks very much.” He shivered. “It was horrible in there.”

“I’m not surprised,” said Professor McGonagall. “You were on that stand going through all that for hours.”

“No, it wasn’t that.”

“What then?”

“All those people – their faces when they were yelling.”

“Ah, yes,” said Mr. Weasley. “But don’t forget that a lot of them may have lost friends or family sixteen years ago, and they don’t forget in a hurry.”

“Even so,” said Harry. “Somehow – somehow I feel it was my fault. Giving the story like that.”

“Not your fault,” said Luna firmly. “Malfoy is a dangerous man. You happened to be there at the time. And just as well. Do you think he should be allowed to walk free?”

“Well, no, not really.”

“There you are then.”

Mr. Weasley and Professor McGonagall were looking at Luna with their mouths open. It was probably the first time they’d seen her being as forceful as this.

“Yeah, I know. Even so.”

“Luna’s right,” said Hermione quietly. “We’ve a lot to be grateful for to you. Without you fighting Voldemort and the others, they’d probably be going up and down the country slaughtering people left and right.”

Harry nodded. He didn’t really want to talk any more. He could see people exchanging glances over his head, but he didn’t really care any more.

Then some one else came into the room. It was Percy. Harry hadn’t told the others he’d been the prosecutor, and he could sense Ron bristling.

“Ah, Potter, the Minister would like a word with you in a little while.”

Harry looked up. “Thank you, Weasley.”

Percy looked furious at the casual use of his name like that, but Harry was damned if he was going to let Percy address him simply as ‘Potter’. Percy flushed red, hesitated, then turned and left.

“Good on you,” Harry heard Ron whisper.

Professor McGonagall on the other hand looked furious. “I wanted to take everyone back to Hogwarts.”

“I can stay and look after Harry,” offered Mr. Weasley.

Then Luna came in: “It’d be nicer if we all went back together. And Harry wouldn’t be on his own.”

Professor McGonagall stared at her, thought about for a moment, then said with a sigh. “I suppose so.”

Harry knew that the others were dying to know what went on, but didn’t feel up to giving the whole story once more. He stood up and went up to Mr. Weasley.

“Can you fill the others in on what happened while I’m seeing Fudge?”

“Of course.” Mr. Weasley mopped his brow. “It was bedlam in there.”

“I know. I got out while I could.”

“Yes, I saw that. Very sensible.” He looked round at the others. “I’ll give them the story while you’re out. Well done, by the way. That was a tour de force.”

“Did I give too much away?” asked Harry anxiously.

Mr. Weasley pursed his lips. “No. A lot of people know most of that already. It’s in the public domain now, and that’s no bad thing. There’s no denying any of it any more. And it’ll have done your credibility no end of good.”

Harry gave him a small smile. “Yeah.”

Fortunately for Harry’s temper, Percy came back at that moment.

“The Minister can see you now,” he announced.

“And I’m ready to see the Minister,” Harry replied.

Ignoring Percy’s shocked look, Harry followed him out of the room, down the corridor, around several corners, before arriving at a door marked ‘Office of the Minister’. He knocked and showed Harry in. A secretary was sitting behind a desk. She smiled at him and pointed him to another door.

“Go through,” she said.

Harry did as he was told, and found himself in the Minister’s room, with Fudge sitting behind his desk. The Minister waved to a chair.

“Harry, please, have a seat.”

Harry seated himself and looked at Fudge, who had a somewhat dazed expression. Nevertheless, the man braced himself and sat upright. Harry could see all the portraits packed with former Ministers, all leaning forward, anxious to catch every word.

“Bad business, this, Harry, bad business.” Harry thought there wasn’t a lot he could add to that. “Lord Whatisname, Death Eaters, and Malfoy.” Fudge sighed.

“But I’d like to say thank you for your ordeal in the court today. It must have been difficult reliving all that. And …” Fudge hesitated, then ploughed on “… I’d like to say sorry for the events of the past year. The Ministry – and I must take full responsibility for this – has doubted your word several times. And now it seems you were right all along. Will you accept the apology?”

It was Harry’s turn to feel dazed. “Of course.”

“What I want to know,” said Fudge, leaning forward, “is where we go from here.”

Fudge asking him – a sixteen year old schoolboy – where we go next? Harry gulped. “Well, sir,” he began, “the aim of both of us is to see the defeat of Voldemort.” Fudge flinched slightly at the name. “The bigger problem is how to do this. We don’t know where he is. And he has powers greater than almost all of us.”

“Indeed, Harry, indeed.”

“Believe it not, Minister, Professor Dumbledore is a great support of the Ministry.” He deliberately said ‘Ministry’ instead of ‘Minister’. “And I think Dumbledore has a great role to play in the defeat of Voldemort.”

But he wasn’t going to talk of the prophecy.

“Of course, Harry, of course. But it does seem to me that you are one of our strongest leads.”

Harry shrugged. “Well, Voldemort’s been targeting me for some time. And I don’t think that’s going to stop.”

“Your safety is our prime concern,” said Fudge earnestly.

“Yes, of course, Minister,” said Harry politely.

“And I’m glad we both are working to the same ends.”

Fudge stood up, indicating the interview was over. He and Harry shook hands politely, and Harry made his way out.

What was that all about? he wondered as he walked back along the corridors. He couldn’t think of much that had been useful out of that conversation. He slipped back into the room where the others were waiting for him.

“That didn’t take long,” remarked Ron.

“No – well, it was all a bit odd. Fudge telling me we were all on the same side now, and how he would stand by me, and so on.”

“Fudge!” said Luna. “You know why he was saying that?”

“Tell me.”

“So he can give lots of lovely quotes to the Prophet. I mean, this is going to be front page tomorrow. I can see it now: ‘The Boy Who Lived Twice’. And lots of quotes from Fudge. ‘Harry and I are working together to defeat the Dark Powers’. ‘Full support for Harry Potter from the Ministry’.”

Harry felt a sinking feeling. He’d been taken for a ride. “Well, at least he’ll have to back up his words.”

“Yeah,” said Luna, “if it suits him.”

Professor McGonagall interrupted them. “This is all very well, but I think we need to be getting back to Hogwarts now.”

Mr. Weasley nodded. “Yes, I think that’d probably be best. It’ll be mayhem round the Ministry for the rest of the day.”

“Come on then.” Professor McGonagall shepherded them all towards the fireplace, and one by one, they all took a pinch of the Floo powder, braced themselves, and were whirled back to Professor McGonagall’s study. Harry brushed himself down, feeling as nauseous as usual from the experience.

“We’ve missed lunch,” said Professor McGonagall, “but I’ve had some sandwiches organised.” With a flick of her wand, a table appeared, laden with sandwiches and pumpkin juice. “Help yourselves. You may take a seat.”

Feeling slightly uncomfortable, Harry sat down with his plate of sandwiches. Everyone was too subdued for there to be any chatter. They finished their sandwiches quickly, and Ginny was the first to stand up.

Professor McGonagall looked at her watch.

“Given the time, I think you may be excused afternoon lessons.”

They mumbled their thanks, as they began to file out.

“Potter,” Professor McGonagall said, as he reached the door.

He stopped, knowing that she wanted to talk to him. “You go on,” he muttered to the others, and closed the door.

The Professor moved over to the window and stared out across the fields. He could see her silhouette against the light. Finally she turned round. Harry felt he knew what was coming next.

“That was very brave in there today,” she said quietly. Harry shrugged, at a loss to say anything. She sighed. “You have had a lot thrust upon you.”

“All I want,” said Harry quietly, “is for us to be rid of all this – and to avenge my parents.”

She nodded. He wondered if she knew about the prophecy. “Yes, indeed. But how it will all work out …” her voice tailed away.

She began again more briskly. “There are one or two other things, however, of more immediate importance. The first is that the trial will be all over the Prophet tomorrow. With all the details.” Harry nodded. “On the whole, I think that’s a good thing. But – there are three boys in the school whose fathers are now locked away as a result of your testimony. This may result in … problems.”

“I’ve been at the receiving end of hassle from Malfoy ever since I arrived. I can’t see that there’s much more he can do.”

“You may be right – but on the other hand, it does rather depend on where he decides his loyalties lie. He or his friends could be a useful source of information to … to Voldemort.”

“I’m safe enough here – I hope. As for the future, well, we’ll have to see.”

“Indeed. There’s an awful lot resting on your shoulders, Harry. Professor Dumbledore and I are always here to give you support.”

Harry blinked. “That’s very kind of you, Professor.”

“It’s the least we can do. I remember Lily and James too. And many others.”

“The hardest thing is the waiting.”

“I know. But remember one thing – all the time you are growing up, you are becoming better equipped to tackle whatever may happen in the end.”

“I suppose so.” He looked towards the window. “What I want to do now is to take a long walk in the sunshine.”

Professor McGonagall gave a rare smile. “Of course.”

He returned the smile and made for the door. Waiting a little further down the corridor, grouped in a little huddle, were the others. He couldn’t really face them now. He slowed down as he approached them. Luna was the first to say anything.

“You want to be by yourself, don’t you?”

He just nodded.

“Of course he does,” said Hermione, before Ron had a chance to say anything. “Come on, we’ll head off back to the Tower.”

She took Ron’s elbow and steered him away.

Harry watched them go down the corridor, then made his way down to the Entrance Hall. It was halfway through the last lesson of the afternoon, and there no one about – not even Peeves. He walked down the steps into the sunlight, and felt the warmth on his face. After the gloominess of the court room it was very welcome.

He walked across the fields. He wasn’t looking where he was going: he was content simply to walk and empty his mind. On the left the banners of the Quidditch stadium waved in the breeze. But Quidditch was no distraction at the moment. He found he had reached the edge of the fields and began walking along the edge of the Forest. Today was too bright, too sunny a day for Dementors. Further ahead of him he saw a group of students walking towards the castle. They must have just finished their Care of Magical Creatures lesson.

His walk would have taken him past Hagrid’s cabin, except that just as he was passing, Hagrid walked out from round the back. He looked surprised to see Harry.

“How’s it going, Harry?” Harry just nodded. Hagrid grunted. “Cup o’ tea?”

Harry hesitated for a moment then nodded again. Without saying anything else, Hagrid pushed open the door of the cabin. Fang came bounding out, nearly knocking Harry down, and Hagrid cuffed him aside. “Go on wi’ yer!”

Once inside, Harry slumped into a chair, and Hagrid busied himself with the kettle and teapot. Soon a large steaming mug was put in front of Harry.

“Ah,” said Hagrid, “could just do with that. Getting a unicorn for the fifth years was a tricky business.”

Harry nodded, not really taking in what Hagrid was saying. Hagrid finished his tea in silence – apart from the slurping, that is – then busied himself tidying things up. He went outside, leaving Harry staring into the fire. It was restful, watching the flames.

It was dark when Hagrid came back, and he went round lighting the lanterns, then began preparing a stew.

“You’re staying for supper?” he asked Harry.

Despite misgivings about what might be in the stew, Harry nodded. He couldn’t face supper in Hall tonight.

Soon the stew was simmering on the fire, and the smell began to fill the room. The sandwiches Harry had had earlier hadn’t really been enough. He pulled his chair up to the table as Hagrid began doling out the stew. It was thick, rich, hot, peppery. Rather to his surprise he found he had cleared his bowl, and Hagrid scooped it up for a refill.

Finally he pushed away his bowl and leant back in his chair.

“Thanks for that,” he said. Hagrid waved a hand in dismissal. “The trial’s finished,” he went on.

“Oh?”

He felt Hagrid’s beetle black eyes focus on him.

“Malfoy – they found him guilty.” Hagrid grunted. “After I had given evidence …” he shrugged “… that was it, really.”

“Not much doubt about it,” said Hagrid.

“No, I suppose not.” Harry began making circles with his spoon in the stew left in his bowl.

“If yer keep company with You Know Who, then yer get what’s coming to you. Don’t think on it too much, Harry. If Malfoy had got his hands on you, he’d hand you straight over without so much as a blink.”

“I know,” said Harry quietly.

“Yeah, well.” Hagrid stared down into his own bowl. “And think on this – the more of them Death Eaters that are locked away, the less chance You Know Who has of causing trouble.”

“I know,” said Harry again.

“I know yer know. And it was a lot to ask you to do today – giving evidence that like.”

“I told them everything. The graveyard. Cedric. Sirius. The Ministry.”

“Without Malfoy and his kind, there wouldn’t be any of these goings on.”

Harry looked up at Hagrid. “I know what you’re saying. But it doesn’t make it easier.”

“Ah, well, I can understand that.”

They both stared at their plates for a few minutes, then Harry rose to his feet. “I’d better be getting back to Gryffindor.”

Hagrid pushed his own chair back. “I’ll walk up with you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t, but I’ve got to see Professor Sprout before the morning. I need to ask her about some wort leaves.”

“Fair enough.”

The sky was dark, and filled with stars. It had gone cold now the sun was well below the horizon, and Harry hadn’t his cloak with him. Mind you, he had to walk briskly enough to keep up with Hagrid’s long legs.

When they reached the Entrance Hall Hagrid bid him a gruff “G’night” as he headed off in the direction of Hufflepuff. Harry climbed his way up the stairs to the Tower, said “Chudleigh Cannons!” to the Fat Lady, and went in to the Common Room. The buzz of conversation died away as he walked in. He stopped, looked at everyone. He put a smile on his face as best he could, although smiling was the last thing he wanted to do. He saw Neville, Ron and Hermione sitting near the fire. He gave them a smaller, more genuine smile, then turned and made his way up the stairs to the dormitory. Sleep was a welcome oblivion.