Harry Potter and the Secret of Gairech

9. More Occlumency classes

The change of atmosphere in the school was becoming more and more noticeable. Before or after meals, students would often hurry from their own tables to their neighbours' and sit down, sometimes staying for several minutes chat. Dumbledore watched the proceedings with pleasure; Snape with complete incomprehension. He was so busy wondering how a Slytherin could possibly stand up from his table to exchange a few words with a Hufflepuff that as usual he was completely oblivious to the soulful looks of Professor Leroux, who was sitting next to him.

Professor McGonagall was talking quietly to Professor Sprout, while Flitwick and Hagrid simply grinned broadly whenever students changed tables. Professor Sesachar was also paying close attention to the proceedings, although it was impossible to tell whether or not he was pleased with what he saw.

In the afternoons when there was no Quidditch practice, mixed groups of students could be seen in the grounds near the lake or in the library, where they worked, chatted and joked together. Angela Wella, a Ravenclaw from the seventh year, patiently explained to Sigrid Midinet and Alina Mielek, two third-years from Hufflepuff, how to change mice into gloves. Max Tefarikis, a fifth-year Slytherin, joined Ernie, Zacharias, Cho, Ron and Harry to discuss the Plumpton Pass and the Woollongong Shimmy. Hermione poured over Herbology books with Amber and two Hufflepuffs. Neville blushed when Eliane Ramos, a blond Ravenclaw girl, suddenly asked him, during the course of a conversation, if he wanted to go out with her at the next Hogsmeade weekend.

Draco Malfoy, together with Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle walked past the Quidditch group. Malfoy looked disdainfully at Max. "Are you colour-blind or haven't you noticed what kind of people you're associating with?" he asked poisonously.

Max looked back at him in confusion. "I really don't understand what your problem is with what I'm doing."

Malfoy stared at him, then his gaze fell on Ernie and Zacharias and he gave a contemptuous snort before looking past Cho to Ron and Harry. His eyes glinted with anger. "The problem is that you're associating with traitors," he hissed. "With the heap of lousy bastards who had my father and all those other wizards sent to Askaban."

"They were Voldemort's Death Eaters," Harry said cuttingly. "They deserved it."

Malfoy bit his teeth together so hard that Ron hoped they would fall out.

"You're not on the side of...You-Know-Who?" Max asked in surprise, looking at his classmate through narrowed eyes.

Instead of answering, Malfoy turned his back on them and stormed angrily away, followed by his two greedy friends and a girl with an expression just as poisonous as his.

"He's being difficult," Max shrugged.

A few minutes later Harry collected up his books and picked up his schoolbag with a sigh. Hermione caught his eye. "Occlumency?" she asked softly, accompanying the question with a brief kiss.

He nodded unenthusiastically. "Sadly... See you afterwards at dinner." Then he made his way to Snape's office.

***

The first thing Harry noticed was that the Pensieve was no longer in Snape's office - the teacher had not thought it necessary to have it there for the Occlumency lessons. Clearly Snape no longer felt the need to take certain thoughts and memories out of his head in case his student should manage to force his way into his mind. This showed a sort of trust that Harry would never have expected from Snape.

The professor pointed to the chair in front of his desk and Harry sat down. He was ready for anything that might come. And this time he would take a lot more trouble to learn from his teacher. By not using the Pensieve, Snape was making a gesture of reconciliation. Harry planned to respect this and show him no ill-will. Snape drew out his wand, and before he was asked to Harry tried to clear his mind of every thought and create an emptiness that would shut out all images and prevent the spell from taking hold...

"Legilimens!"

Harry jumped as the word suddenly interrupted his concentration, but before he had the chance to form an explanation in his mind, he had forced aside his surprise. Clouds of fog danced painfully before his inner eyes, but refused to take shape. Then the fog vanished and Harry stared at his hand, which was gripping the edge of Snape's desk. His fingers were clasped so tightly around the wood that his knuckles were white.

"That was good," remarked Snape. "Very good. Surprising that the lessons have suddenly made a difference." His voice was mocking, but not cold, and Harry accepted the comment without protest. "You must be aware, however, that situations might arise in which you won't have so much time to empty your thoughts before someone tries to read them." He sat down opposite Harry and laid his fingers on his chin. "Tell me something."

Harry stared at him in astonishment and Snape gave a small smile. "During a conversation it's hard to suppress your thoughts fast enough and you're... easier to attack. So, tell me something. Something you feel strongly about - that will make it even more difficult." He tapped his fingers on his chin, and then looked searchingly at Harry. "Talk about Black."

Harry was stunned. His face must have spoken volumes, because Snape leant back contentedly in his chair. "I seem to have chosen the right topic for this exercise. So, Potter, tell me about him. You were in the Department of Mysteries when it happened. I assume, you saw everything..."

Harry closed his eyes, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. "Please... can't we talk about something else?" he begged.

Snape shook his head. "The memory is still fresh and obviously very painful. Perfect for this exercise. So, tell me. How did he die?"

Harry had to struggle to stay calm. How would he possibly be able to fight Snape if he interrupted him with "Legilimens!" in the middle of his story? Not only would he be forced to relive his most painful memory, he would also fail to suppress his emotions and close his mind in time.

But Snape seemed to like this topic of conversation. He leant forward with interest. "The Death Eaters had almost defeated you and your classmates when the members of the Order appeared. What happened?"

"It was Bellatrix Lestrange," Harry said tonelessly. "They were duelling in front of a curtain which had a doorway behind it. I'd been in that room before, near that curtain, and I'd heard voices coming from the doorway and I didn't know what it was... but somehow it... frightened us all. Sirius had just avoided one of Lestrange's curses and was teasing her and asking if that was the best she could do... Then it happened... she cursed him and he fell. He...he fell behind the curtain." Harry faltered and struggled to keep his voice from shaking. Snape stared at him, challenging, and suddenly the hatred he had always felt for this woman, the murderer of his godfather, returned. Snape obviously wanted to torment him and Harry clenched his teeth in fury.

"Go on," said the professor, softly but commandingly.

And so Harry went on. With every sentence his voice became more and more bitter, and with every word that he spoke, his anger increased. "I wanted to get to Sirius, but Remus caught hold of me. He said I couldn't and shouldn't do anything. I was furious with him and didn't want to believe it. Then I saw Lestrange run out of the room and I broke away from him."

Snape nodded in anticipation. "You followed her."

Harry nodded and his fingers again grasped the desk as the blind fury that he had felt for the first time only a few weeks ago returned. "She had killed him. And I wanted to kill her. I ran after her into the entrance hall of the Ministry, where I caught up with her..."

"And what did you do?" Snape was playing with his fingers, seemingly absent-minded, but his hands were coming closer to the wand lying on the table next to him. He had just caught hold of it when Harry said in a strange, cold voice: "I tried the Crucio-curse."

Snape's wand fell from his hand. It fell back onto the wood of the table and the noise brought Harry abruptly back out of his memories. He stared at the professor. Then his gaze wandered slowly between him and the wand.

"You did what?" Snape shouted.

"It only threw her backwards," said Harry dully, running his hand through his hair. "I was too angry to mean it seriously enough... it didn't really work."

As fast as Snape's horror had appeared, it gave way to a broad, mocking grin. "So you thought you'd be able to use that curse, Potter? As arrogant as your father, aren't you?"

Before Harry could launch into a loud and angry protest, Snape had his wand held firmly in his hand and had pointed it at his pupil. "Legilimens!"

The grand entrance hall to the Ministry, with the numerous chimneys... the wonderful fountain with the magnificent statues spouting water. Lestrange, whose laughter echoed through the gigantic empty room, ringing in his ears. "Did you love him, sweetheart?" she mocked, and hatred, incontrollable hatred, rose up within him, filled the whole hall. A sudden beam of green light shot through the room and Lestrange screamed and fell, and...

Harry felt a searing pain as he brought his fist down hard on the table. The pictures faded immediately. He gasped for breath and caught hold of his aching hand, staring angrily across the table at Snape. Snape raised his eyebrows, lowering his wand.

"Not bad," he murmured. "Not bad at all..."

"Not bad at all?" Harry snorted.

"Of course not," Snape smiled. "I was expecting an evening's worth of entertainment, not an...an unsatisfactory film clip."

Harry felt like strangling him.

"I think we can finish the class for today," Snape continued, undaunted. "You really have made progress, Potter. I expect you here again on Friday, same time."

Harry grabbed his schoolbag and gave the professor one last glare. To his surprise, Snape began to laugh softly. "I have to admit, you're not so similar to your father."

Harry frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Snape's grin became broader. "Well...he had his temper under control..."

As Harry shot out through the office door into the corridor with a growl of fury, Snape laughed even louder.

***

"Snape can laugh?" Ron asked soon afterwards at dinner. He seemed amazed.

Harry picked grumpily at his salad. "He can laugh at me!"

"You should be grateful," Hermione said, helping herself to more rice. "At least he wasn't humiliating you."

"Just you listen to him laugh, then you'll see that there's nothing more humiliating than that!" Harry snapped, making Ron snort with laughter.

"Rubbish!" Hermione scolded. "You should be glad that he's still teaching you Occlumency, after everything that happened. And he gave you an A for your potion sample, remember?"

"Not a T this time?" Ron teased, and now it was his turn to be glared at by Harry. "Are you pissed off or what, mate?" He laughed again.

Harry thought about what Snape had said about him at the end of the class, and sighed. He was right - he really didn't have his temper under control. Something else he really needed to work on...

Hermione took his hand and smiled at him. "Maybe an after-dinner stroll would be a good idea, to help you calm down before you mess up Professor Binns' essay for sheer fury.

Ron groaned. "Damn, we've still got that one to write..."

Hermione laughed softly. "Well, you should get started on it now. You always take the longest with your homework."

"Sometimes you're a real pain in the neck," Ron sighed, pushing away his empty plate. "I can only do it quickly if I know what to write. And I only know what to write if I read your essay first..."

"Can't I read yours first for a change?" Hermione grinned, standing up and pulling Harry up with her. Ron muttered something unintelligible, and laughing they left the Great Hall. While Ron went up to the first floor with Seamus, Dean and Ginny, Harry and Hermione slipped outside through the main entrance. It was late summer, and still light and warm. A few other students were wandering through the grounds. The pair headed to the right towards the wall surrounding the inner courtyard, climbed down the steps to a walled square of grass and leant against the stone, which was still warm from the sun. Harry laid his head in her lap and stared up thoughtfully at the evening sky, while Hermione ran her fingers through his hair. After a while, he met her gaze, Snape's words still revolving in his mind.

"Do you think I...I...can't control myself?" he asked.

"Your temper, you mean?" She laughed softly. "Was Professor Snape teasing you about that?"

Harry grumbled. "That and other things, yes.... He said that was what made me different from my father..."

Hermione laughed louder. "He hated your father, so anything he sees in you that makes you different from him is a compliment."

"Snape is the last person I want to hear compliments from!" Harry answered reluctantly. "Just because he's stopped failing me for Potions now and then doesn't mean that he likes me more. And I don't like him either. No one could like Snape!"

"You don't have to like him. You just have to learn from him, instead of behaving like an obstinate mule," she scolded him, pulling more roughly at his hair. "You need him. So don't give him another reason to throw you out of his office. That would be enough to begin with..."

Harry sighed. "If only it were that simple... And stop pulling my hair out!" He turned onto his side, propping himself up on one arm on the grass, and caught hold of her hand, pulling it, and her, closer to him. His fingers wandered from her hand to her face, pushing aside her wild curls before he gave her a long, deep kiss. Then he fell back, without letting her go, and with a small squeal she landed on top of him. Gasping for breath, she pushed herself up on her arms and stared down at him as he grinned mischievously up at her from the grass. She couldn't help but grin back. Instead of propping herself up on the grass, she now folded her arms on his chest and looked at him for a long moment, still smiling. "You're such a rebel," she said finally.

Harry shut his eyes, raising his eyebrows and trying to mimic Snape's expressionless face. "That would be because I don't have my temper under control."

Hermione pursed her lips in amusement. "Well... sometimes I like it when you don't..."

He laughed softly, and pulled her towards him again. "It makes me so predictable," he smirked, breathing kisses onto her lips and cheeks. "Much too predictable..."

10. Silverfurs

The next few weeks passed quickly. There was still no news about the movements of Voldemort. Since Tonks' murder and the appearance of the harpies, it seemed that every trace of him had disappeared.

Harry, however, had little opportunity to investigate any further. Professor Leroux had kept her promise, and in record time she had taught the students all the material they had missed in the fifth year. She was strict, but fair, unless Severus Snape came into sight, since then she would immediately focus her entire attention on him. Snape was completely unaware of his beautiful colleague's obvious interest in him, and Harry and his friends were at a loss to understand how he could fail to see something that was so apparent to the rest of the school.

"Maybe he's just ignoring it," Max conjectured as they sat together in the library one day to write their essays about the six-headed sea-monster Skylla.

"Or he simply doesn't understand her." A malicious grin appeared on Ron's face. "He doesn't know what a crush is. Snape's probably never been in love."

A few people at the table grinned, but Harry remained silent. Without looking up he continued with his essay. He preferred not to mention the fact that he knew that Ron was wrong.

"If there's one thing Snape could never be any good for..." Ernie pulled a face, "then it's messing around with the girls."

Hanna laughed softly. "He would have to learn to be witty and charming first."

"Nice of you mention it, Miss Abbott." The calm but cold voice made them all jump. Snape had just entered the library and had heard the last few words. "Ten points from Hufflepuff. You should learn to control your tongue. Or weren't you aware that it's not ladylike to talk about people behind their backs?"

Hanna had gone very pale, and Ernie swallowed hard. Max hid behind his book and Ron had apparently realised all of a sudden how much he had left to write. Harry went doggedly on with his homework, without looking up. He felt that Snape was staring at him, as if he were just waiting for Harry to say something and give him the welcome opportunity to take points off Gryffindor. At any rate, the Head of Slytherin was still standing grimly by their table.

The five students were saved by Professor Leroux, who had now joined them in the library. "Oh, Professor Snape, how lucky that you're here." She came happily up to the table. "I'm in dire need of your help and expertise. I'm brewing a potion for defence against vampires and I'm afraid that I've left out one of the ingredients." She ignored Snape's murderous glare and smiled winningly. "If you have a minute, perhaps you could take a look at it and tell me what I've done wrong?"

Snape looked at her with dark eyes. "There's an excellent book in this library which deals exclusively with potions for defence against vampires and demons," he answered coolly. "'Asmodeus' Greatest Horror' by Belias Belial. It's over there." He nodded towards a shelf at the far end of the room.

Professor Leroux looked rather disappointed. "A book can't tell me everything that years of experience make possible," she tried again.

Even compliments seemed to have no effect on Snape. "I'm sorry, Professor, but I have to prepare a class." He swept past her into the restricted section of the library, which students could only enter with the express permission of a teacher. Leroux gave a deep and regretful sigh. She headed towards the shelf of potions books.

Ron looked up slowly, Max laid aside his book and Ernie and Hanna relaxed again. All four exchanged astonished glances.

"He's blind," murmured Max. "He must be..."

"It's not possible to misunderstand when someone makes advances like that," Ron moaned. "How stupid can you get...?"

"Ssssh!" hissed Ernie. "He might come back and hear us. He'd be only too pleased to take off more house-points."

***

October arrived, and with it the long-awaited Hogsmeade weekend. The week before, many of the students started arranging their dates. Eliane Ramos had asked Neville out again, and this time he had stuttered out an agreement, the tips of his ears burning red. Dean gave a broad grin and clapped him on the shoulder. "Congratulations, mate. She's a really pretty girl. Just don't screw it up."

Not everybody had arrived in the Great Hall. There were still a few minutes before breakfast, and students and teachers were still wandering in. Professor Leroux had just appeared, but instead of walking past the students' tables, she paused and then sat down quickly opposite Ron. The Gryffindors, and Zacharias and Amber, who were standing with Harry and Hermione talking about the next meeting, looked up in surprise.

"Your next lesson is Potions with Professor Snape, isn't it?" Leroux asked. The students exchanged meaningful glances.

"Uh, yes, Professor," Harry stuttered, looking at her in confusion.

Leroux gave a dreamy smile. "His lessons must be wonderfully interesting and instructive for you, seeing that he's such an expert in his field. He might be strict, but his strictness must be perfectly balanced by his competence and sense of humour."

Neville spat his juice back into his glass, Amber suppressed a laugh and Zacharias clenched his teeth. Harry's expression was strained at best and Hermione rolled her eyes, as did Ginny sitting next to her. Dean appeared to be biting his tongue with great energy, and Ron, who was sitting opposite Leroux, almost fell backwards off the bench.

"It's such a pity that he's so busy," Leroux sighed. "The poor man must be worn out with all that work. He's such a perfectionist. I've never seen him sit down and relax."

"On Thursdays he's always in his office from 7.30 onwards," remarked Harry, whose grimace had now turned into a faint grin. He ignored the surprised glances of his friends.

"Oh really?" Leroux asked, obviously finding it hard to suppress her excitement. "That's..." She paused for a moment then continued with a much calmer, indifferent tone of voice. "That must be a chance for him to recover a bit. He can't have much free time."

"I doubt that Snape even knows what free time is," Ron snorted contemptuously. Of course Leroux understood this differently.

"Yes, you're probably right Mr. Weasley. Severus deserves our pity. Somebody really should take care of him..." She was now looking very thoughtful. "Well anyway, enjoy your meal, all of you. I'll see you later in class."

"We don't have Defence Against the Dark Arts today," Ginny remarked, but Leroux was already out of earshot. She was sweeping her way dreamily towards the teachers' table. Harry could have sworn that she was floating on air.

"I feel so sorry for her," Hermione murmured, with genuine pity in her voice.

"Why?" Ron looked at her with a frown. "Because of her bad taste?"

"Because of her non-existent sense of reality?" Zacharias grinned.

"No," Hermione cut open a bread roll. "Because she's chosen a man who will never return her affection, since he doesn't even notice it. Even though the whole school knows about it. Sooner or later she'll realise, and it'll make her very sad."

"She should be glad," Ron grumbled. "Because then she'll finally realise what a rotten guy Snape really is."

***

That night Harry slept badly. Dark pictures appeared in his mind. Shadowy figures moving in an eerie dance. When he woke up, his scar was hurting. Sighing, he turned over in bed and stared into the darkness. He listened to the even breathing of his classmates. One of them was snoring softly.

Harry pulled back the curtain and stood up. Yawning, he felt around for his glasses and groped his way to the window. In the bright moonlight he looked at his watch. Just after three. Harry looked out through the window at the grounds of Hogwarts. The moon was bright enough for him to see clearly. The pale gravel on the paths was gleaming like a street of tiny glow-worms, crossed by a wandering shadow.

Harry rubbed his eyes and looked again. The shadow was a figure wrapped in a dark cloak, who was creeping cautiously along the path away from the castle.

Who could it be? Now, in the middle of the night? The shadow had reached the great stone dragon which marked the crossing of two pathways, and Harry watched it head right. Apparently it was going to Hogsmeade.

Without a moment's hesitation, Harry turned away from the window, opened his suitcase and pulled out his father's Invisibility Cloak. He could either try to go back to sleep, which would be impossible anyway, since he would constantly be wondering who it was who had slipped out of Hogwarts that night, or he could try to follow that person and find out the answer to his question. He pulled on the cloak and left the boys' dormitory on tiptoe, crossed the common room and climbed out through the hole in the portrait.

The castle was silent. Everybody was asleep. Not even Filch's shuffling footsteps could be heard. Harry raced down the stairs and along the main corridor, then hurried down the steps into the entrance hall. Before opening the door, he looked around attentively. There were no yellow cat's eyes gleaming from the shadows. There was not a sound to be heard. Resolutely Harry pushed down the handle and stepped out into the night.

As the cloaked figure had done before him, he followed the gravel path to the statue of the dragon. The path on the left led to a second turning which would take him to Hagrid's hut, while if he continued straight ahead he would reach the Quidditch stadium. The path on the right led to the greenhouses and the gates of the castle. Harry followed this path. The great iron gate was ajar. The unknown night-prowler had really left Hogwarts.

Harry slipped out through the gate. The path here was tarmacked, and so dark that he could hardly see it despite the moonlight. It curved around the great lake which surrounded half of Hogwarts and which the first-years crossed in boats every year on their way to the castle. The water looked deep and murky, the surface shimmering like oil in the darkness.

Harry walked quickly onwards. Maybe he would be able to catch up with the stranger before he reached Hogsmeade. And he did - a few hundred meters further on he saw him again, the tall dark figure who was walking more slowly and cautiously along the path. Harry slowed down so that his quicker footsteps wouldn't give him away. He only needed to see the man clearly to be able to follow him. At least Harry thought that it was a man.

Before they reached Hogsmeade, the figure stopped suddenly. Harry noticed just in time. He crept forward on tiptoe, following the man's gaze to a pathway on his right which led away from the tarmacked road. For a few seconds he stood and stared without moving, but then he pulled himself together and walked on. Harry frowned. Why was the man so interested in this pathway? Where could it lead?

When they arrived in Hogsmeade the man made his way to the Hog's Head, a small, shabby pub which was the only house in the area still showing a light. He opened the door and stepped inside. Harry followed unnoticed right behind him.

There was no one in sight. Only the landlord, who was standing behind the bar cleaning glasses with a dirty towel as he always did. Otherwise, the pub was empty.

The man sat down at the bar and pulled back his hood. It was Professor Pithormin Sesachar.

Harry stayed next to the door. From here he could see and hear more than enough. The landlord leant towards the teacher.

"You shouldn't have come, Pit," he growled. "Not tonight. Not after dark."

"What have you got against the night all of a sudden?" Sesachar answered, amused. "Could I have a beer?"

The landlord reached down to the crate underneath the bar and pulled out a dusty bottle. He gave it a brief wipe with the towel he had been using to clean the glasses. Harry pulled a face, understanding now why everyone said it was better to bring your own glass to the Hog's Head if you really wanted a drink there.

"Stay the night, Pit," the landlord was saying. "Don't go back to the castle. You're lucky nothing happened to you on the way here."

"Are they his?" Sesachar asked. "Do they obey him now?"

Jachim snorted. "You know the Dark Lord well enough, Pit. You know how things are. So don't ask." He reached for a bottle of beer.

"I know the Dark Lord well enough to know that this place will soon be a scene of terror. His army is growing again. And it will soon be stronger than ever before."

"Why does he need an army," Jachim growled, "to kill one snot-nosed kid?"

Sesachar smiled. "You don't understand, my friend. You don't understand..."

"He's a boy!" the landlord contradicted him. "Not a fully trained wizard with decades of experience like the Dark Lord."

"He has powers that the Dark Lord doesn't have." Sesachar had leant forward, fixing Jachim with a stern gaze. "A power he himself doesn't know about. And it's lucky that he doesn't know about it."

"But what..." the landlord began. But his words became a strangled gurgle when Sesachar's hand shot forward and closed around his throat. Harry wasn't looking at Jachim. He was staring at Sesachar's arm. On it he could clearly see a tattooed skull with a snake winding through it - the mark of a Death Eater. Harry held his breath.

Sesachar was a spy. A spy in Hogwarts!

"Whatever it is, it's none of your business, Jachim, do you understand me?" Sesachar hissed between clenched teeth, his eyes gleaming menacing and cold.

A strangled cough was the answer. The landlord's face had turned red then blue, and finally Pithormin Sesachar let him go. Jachim fell back, gasping for air. Harry had seen enough. Taking advantage of the landlord's wheezing breath he opened the door and slipped out.

Sesachar, a Death Eater. He could hardly believe it.

Harry ran through the silent streets of Hogsmeade. Voldemort would never give up. First Quirrel, then the diary, smuggled in by Lucius Malfoy, then the fake Mad Eye Moody... and now? Now it was Sesachar! How could Dumbledore have been so blind?

Harry had reached the eastern edge of the town and hurried back along the path towards the castle. He didn't know whether to feel anger or panic. When he reached the turning in the forest he stood for a moment to look down the dark path. What was it that had caught Sesachar's attention? What was hidden there? Did the path lead to a hiding place for more Death Eaters? Was Voldemort himself nearby?

Harry stepped onto the path. He could follow it for a few meters. Just a few meters... but after a few steps he saw that this was almost impossible with the Invisibility Cloak. The trees were close together and the branches hung down low. The fine material of the cloak was caught in the twigs. Harry stopped, slipped out from underneath the cloak and tried as carefully as possible to free it from the tangle of twigs. He had just managed to free the cloak of leaves and loose bark when he heard a rustling in the undergrowth. He froze, looking around him. It didn't sound like the steps of a person. It was definitely the sound of animals prowling through the wood.

Harry stuffed the Invisibility Cloak under his shirt and felt for the wand in his trouser pocket. But before he could get hold of it, they broke through the undergrowth. There were half a dozen of them. Furry, long-legged creatures, that at first glance appeared to be wolves. But their fur was thicker and stiffer, gleaming a cold silver. Their eyes were gleaming ruby-red in the darkness. And they were so much bigger then wolves, so much more powerfully built.

Harry stood without moving. He had never seen animals like these before. Not alive. He had always thought that they were extinct. Every school textbook said the same. Silverfurs, the demon wolves, had been hunted to extinction in the Middle Ages when they had gotten out of control. Silverfurs, fearful creatures that had prowled through villages for centuries, killing, tearing apart sheep and cattle and giving their smaller, harmless relative the wolf the name of savage beast...

They were coming closer, surrounding him. Their lips were drawn back, baring their powerful jaws. Harry stared at their razor-sharp teeth and instinctively stepped back, tripping over a root. He fell heavily to the ground, feeling the thorns of a low bush scratch his face, and his glasses slipped from his nose.

The silverfurs crept towards him, ducking threateningly, growling continuously and snapping viciously at the air.

Harry had no hope of getting away from them on foot. The Invisibility Cloak could not protect him now. And if he ran away the animals would catch him and tear him apart within seconds. Even a deer would not be fast enough to get away from them without a struggle. Only a good racehorse could avoid becoming prey to the silverfurs.

A quick, strong horse, with hooves that thundered over the soft forest floor. Racing along the path at full gallop. Harry could see its mane streaming in the wind, its swishing tail and blazing nostrils. He saw it quite clearly before him. It was black as coal, black as the night. And it was almost flying through the forest, leaving the pack of silverfurs behind it, further and further behind...

In horror, Harry opened his eyes as a silverfur bared its teeth close to his skin. In blind panic he threw himself to one side and the animal's sharp teeth snapped into thin air. Harry had fallen on all-fours, and felt the soft earth give way beneath him as if his hands were connected with an enormous weight. Harry stared down, and instead of hands beneath him he saw hooves. He gave a shout of terror, but the only sound that came out of his throat was a loud whinny. He threw around his head and looked over his shoulder. His back had become longer and wider, and was covered with silky black fur. A black tail was swishing restlessly back and forth, whipping the silverfur, which was staring at Harry with ice-cold eyes.

Without further thought, Harry seized his lost glasses in his teeth. A hasty movement behind him made him throw up his head. With one leap he was out of reach of the sharp fangs. He felt the strong joints flex as his hooves landed back on the soil.

The silverfurs began to bark, and the first sprang towards him with bared teeth. Harry started to gallop, with streaming mane and swishing tail. Just like the horse that he had seen in his mind's eye a moment before. And the silverfurs were behind him.

He raced through the forest, breaking through prickly bushes and thick foliage, jumping over the trunks of fallen trees as if carried by invisible wings. His lungs greedily pumped oxygen, his breathing raced, but he still didn't feel as if he had reached full speed. Before him he could see the edge of the forest coming closer, the castle came into sight and the silverfurs were falling further and further behind.

As the barks and howls of his pursuers died away Harry galloped across the grass and Hagrid's well-tended cabbage patch, coming to a stop behind Hagrid's hut, his flanks trembling. His glasses slipped out of his mouth, and he shook his head with a snort before instinctively sticking his nose into a nearby water butt and drinking in large gulps.

Suddenly Harry blinked, stopped, and stepped quickly backwards, spitting out the last mouthful. Ugh, he was drinking rainwater!

He shook himself, horrified at his inexplicable behaviour. When he opened his eyes again, he stared at his reflection. As the water settled, a black horse with a tangled mane and remarkably green eyes stared back at him.

A moment later he heard the door of the hut fly open.

"Who's there, dang it?" a dark voice thundered into the night. Harry froze. Hagrid! He couldn't let him see him - not like this. What would he think if he saw a strange horse behind his hut?

The next moment, the soil became softer again and he fell to his knees. The black fur and the hooves had disappeared. He was Harry again - the normal Harry.

Absent-mindedly he picked up his glasses from the ground and was about to put them back on his nose when...

"Not again!" he groaned, looking at the broken lenses, now shining in the light of a lamp.

"Harry, what the devil are yeh doin' here?" Hagrid asked in surprise. "Yeh shoul' be sleepin', not hangin' round here on yehr own!"

"I know." Harry fished his wand out of his pocket and pointed the tip at his broken glasses. "Occulos reparo!"

The broken glass flew back together and Harry put his glasses back on. Hagrid had come closer and was plucking at Harry's clothes. "Covered in burdock - where've yeh been?" He raised the lantern to Harry's face and saw the numerous scratches, some still bleeding, then lowered it again to his shredded shirtsleeve. "Hunted?" he asked brusquely, but with concern in his voice. "By what?"

"Silverfurs," answered Harry.

Hagrid stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Silverfurs? They died out years ago, Harry. They don' exist any more."

"But I saw them!" Harry pulled the burdock from his hair. "There was a whole pack of them."

"Sleep-walkin', eh?" Hagrid asked, pushing Harry towards his hut. "Hangin' roun' out here at four in the mornin' babblin' nonsense 'bout silverfurs. That's not good."

Harry was on the point of shouting out in anger. "I saw them, dammit!" He looked at his arm. There were scratches, but nothing more. He didn't seem to have been bitten.

"No one's seen a silverfur for four hundred years. Anyone who saw one had a duty to kill it. People were scared of them. Quite right too." He shut the door of the hut behind them. Fang gave Harry a slobbery greeting, wagging his tail. Hagrid found a large bucket and half-filled it with warm water from the kettle on the fire. He then topped it up with cold water. "Have a wash, Harry. If they see yeh like that they'll know right away. Been hangin' round somewhere where yeh shouldn' have, eh?"

Harry rolled up his sleeves and dipped his hands in the water to clean off the dirt and blood. Then he wiped his arms and face. Hagrid placed a small bottle in front of him.

"Madam Pomfrey gave it me. For scratches an' little stuff like that. I hardly use it. Who cares about a few scratches? There, have a towel." He gave one to Harry who dried himself off, looking with some suspicion at the bottle. The paste gave off a pleasant smell of arnica and rose of Sharon. He smeared it on the larger grazes.

"That'll make 'em go in a few minutes," said Hagrid. "So where were yer, Harry?"

Harry smeared more of the ointment on his other arm. "In Hogsmeade," he murmured.

"Why's that?" Hagrid asked, putting the kettle on. "You can go there nex' weeken'".

"I was following Professor Sesachar." Harry snorted. "He's a Death Eater. Did you know that? He's a bloody Death Eater! And he's teaching a very dangerous subject in Hogwarts. I wonder if Dumbledore knows who he is... Although, if he did he'd never have employed him..." He thought for a moment. "I'd better go and see him... straight away."

"How can yeh be so sure he's a Death Eater?" Hagrid asked, setting a steaming cup of tea before Harry's nose.

Harry pointed at his arm. "Because he's got the Dark Mark?" he said, irritated.

"And you saw it?" Hagrid frowned. "Well... Snape had it too... and he's not a Death Eater any more. A few of 'em left after You-Know-Who lost his power. Were forced ter join, yeh know. But anyone what belonged once never got out. It's like a rotten sect, Harry. They hunt down anyone what wants ter leave 'cos he doesn' think the same way they do. 'Fraid of traitors, they are."

"At any rate, Sesachar was one of them," said Harry defiantly. "So that means he can't be trusted any more than Snape."

"Dumbledore trusts Snape," Hagrid reminded him. "Even though he's...well...not the nicest bloke."

"And I still wonder why he does," Harry growled, screwing the lid back on the bottle of ointment and examining his arm. Hagrid had been right. The scratches and wounds were disappearing amazingly quickly.

"I think I'd better go," he murmured. It was already light outside, and soon someone would notice that he was missing.

"You do that, Harry." Hagrid cleared away the teacups. "And promise me yeh'll get some sleep, okay? Don't wan' you seein' more creetures what don' exist."

"I wasn't dreaming!" Harry tried one last time, but Hagrid wasn't listening.

"Then they was normal wolves. Maybe you was so scared at first that you thought they was silverfurs. Happens, that."

Harry gave up trying to persuade Hagrid, pulled his Invisibility Cloak from under his shirt and left Hagrid's hut. Frustrated, but tired, he made his way back to the castle. The air was fresh and the first birds were singing. He saw two thestrals trotting along the edge of the forest, and suddenly he remembered everything that the heated discussion about Sesachar and the silverfurs had made him forget. Tonight he had been a horse...