The Spiteful Sorting Hat

Ascending downs

Instead, Harry simply replied, "I can't. All of my things are locked in the cupboard downstairs."

"We'll get them," said Blaise confidently. He had already slipped farther into the room and was lifting Hedwig's cage from the desk. "Where's the cupboard?"

"Under the stairs where I used to sleep," said Harry.

The words escaped before he considered the effect they would produce. Mrs. Zabini uttered an involuntary sound of disgust, then immediately left the room. Harry and Blaise exchanged a glance, then Harry led the way down the stairs, pausing only to collect his treasured letters from their hiding place. Blaise carried Hedwig's cage himself, with the owl hooting to him in appreciation. Even she seemed to realize what was happening, and was grateful for it.

Mrs. Zabini stood at the base of the stairs near the open front door. She was loudly berating Vernon and Petunia, while Dudley poked his head around an open doorway, obviously intimidated by the imposing witch. Harry and Blaise paused halfway down the stairs, listening as Mrs. Zabini threatened to contact the Muggle authorities and report the Dursleys for child abuse. Vernon blustered and made several futile attempts to argue, but Mrs. Zabini drowned his pathetic attempts with her righteous fury. She appeared to notice that Blaise and Harry were waiting, and she broke off mid-sentence, turning to the boys and saying, "Harry, lead the way" with the same oddly calm voice she had used upstairs.

Harry jumped down the last few steps and showed Mrs. Zabini the door to the cupboard, locked against his entry. Mrs. Zabini pointed her wand at the lock, saying "Alohamora," rather more sharply than the spell required. The lock gave a swift click and the door swung open quickly, as if terrified of keeping her waiting any longer. She next waved her wand at Harry's trunk, full of all his school supplies and robes, and it vanished. Harry wondered if she'd sent it directly to her home.

He thought they would leave immediately, but Mrs. Zabini paused a moment longer, looking at one of the lower shelves of the cupboard. Harry followed her gaze and realized she was starting at a row of plastic toy soldiers – forgotten remnants of Harry's days sleeping below the stairs. She said nothing. She simply placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and gently guided him away from the cupboard door back down the hall.

"What is it, mum?" Blaise asked as his mother swept toward him, pushing Harry in front of her.

But Mrs. Zabini ignored his question, guiding him as she had Harry, and pushing them both out the front door, past the cowed Dursleys. Harry could see Mrs. Zabini's black car parked on the street. Once again, the driver was not immediately visible, until he saw that it was Torsh sitting behind the wheel, so short that they could barely see over the dash. He didn't realize how starved he'd been for the wizarding world until he felt a sense of overwhelming relief seeing the familiar little elf.

"Er... See you next summer?" Harry said awkwardly as he took one last look through the open front door at his dumbstruck muggle relations.

"No, Harry. I don't think so," Mrs. Zabini said before the Dursleys had even a moment to respond.

An instant later, Harry was being bundled into the car. He stopped Mrs. Zabini before she could place Hedwig's cage in the backseat with him, staying, "Wait! She's been cooped up all summer. Do you think she could fly to meet us?"

Mrs. Zabini unlocked the padlock with a flick of her wand, and Hedwig soared out, hooting with pleasure and spreading her white wings. Harry smiled. He understood exactly how Hedwig must feel.

Soon they were speeding away from Privet Drive, and then Little Whinging was left far behind. Mrs. Zabini sat in the front seat next to Torsh, a chilly silence surrounding her, but Harry understood that she was not angry with him. It was something of a new experience for Harry – to have someone mad at the Dursleys instead of the Dursleys being mad at him. Harry tried to calm her, feeling that he had to say something to minimize the effect of what she just witnessed.