Emma Potter

69: Gift by a prisioner

"What did you go running to Snape for?"

Hermione was pink in the face,but stood up and faced  me defiantly. 

"Because I thought — and Professor McGonagall  and Snape agree withme — that that flute was probably sent to you by Sirius Black!" 

I knew that Hermione had meant well, but that didn'tstop me from being angry with her. I had been theowner of a flute which helps me read minds, maybe the only in the world for a few short hours, andnow, because of her interference, I didn't know whether I wouldever see it again. O was positive that there was nothing wrongwith the Flute now, but what sort of state would it be in once ithad been subjected to all sorts of anti-jinx tests?

"Go on" said Hermione "hate me. Harry and Ron are already doing it. You might as well."

I hesitated. I was angry yes, but I knew that an object would never amount to a person. "I-I- don't hate you." I said "I'm mad. But I understand."

"Really?"

"Really."

Hermione threw her arms around me, squeezing me. "Oh, thank you!" she said.

"No problem" I chocked

We were glad when therest of the school returned shortly after New Year, and Slytherin Common Room became crowded and noisy again.  

I told nicholas, Zoe and Draco about the flute. They scoffed but I saw some notes written at the -back; C-A-A-D-F-F-E-F#-A

Classes started again the next day. The last thing anyone felt like doing was spending two hours on the grounds on a raw January morning, but Hagrid had provided a bonfire full of salamanders for our enjoyment, and we spent an unusually good lesson collecting drywood and leaves to keep the fire blazing while the flame-lovinglizards scampered up and down the crumbling, white-hot logs. 

. It was Defense Against the Dark Arts that I was keen to getto; I wanted to get started on our anti-dementor lessons as soon as possible. 

"Ah yes," said Lupin, when Harry reminded him of his promiseat the end of class. "Let me see . . . how about eight o'clock onThursday evening? The History of Magic classroom should belarge enough. . . . I'll have to think carefully about how we're goingto do this. . . . We can't bring a real dementor into the castle topractice on. . . ." 

"Still looks ill, doesn't he?" said Ron as we walked down the corridor, heading to dinner. "What d'you reckon's the matter with him?" I had to alternate between, Draco, Zoe and Nicholas, Ron and Harry and Hermione.

 There was a loud and impatient "tuh" from behind us. It was Hermione, who had been sitting at the feet of a suit of armor,repacking her bag, which was so full of books it wouldn't close. 

"And what are you tutting at us for?" said Ron irritably. 

"Nothing," said Hermione in a lofty voice, heaving her bag backover her shoulder.

 "Yes, you were," said Ron. "I said I wonder what's wrong withLupin, and you —" 

"Well, isn't it obvious?" said Hermione, with a look of maddening superiority.  I held my breathe, I had a feeling she made the same connection as me,

"If you don't want to tell us, don't," snapped Ron.

 "Fine," said Hermione haughtily, and she marched off.

 "She doesn't know," said Ron, staring resentfully afterHermione. "She's just trying to get us to talk to her again." 

At eight o'clock on Thursday evening, I left Slytherin Dungeons for the History of Magic classroom. It was dark and empty when I arrived, but I lit the lamps with my wand when Harry walked in, and had waited only fiveminutes when Professor Lupin turned up, carrying a large packingcase, which he heaved onto Professor Binns' desk.