Emily sat in the common room talking to her brother about their dad and older brother..
Down in the dining hall, Hermione's Daily Prophet arrived she smoothed it out, gazed for a moment at the front page, and then gave a yelp that caused everyone in the vicinity to stare at her.
"What?" said Harry and Ron together.
For an answer she spread the newspaper on the table in front of them and pointed at ten black and white photographs that filled the whole of the front page, nine showing wizards' faces and the tenth, a witch's.
Some of the people in the photographs were silently jeering; others were tapping their fingers on the frame of their pictures, looking insolent. Each picture was captioned with a name and the crime for which the person had been sent to Azkaban.
Antonin Dolohov, read the legend beneath a wizard with a long, pale, twisted face who was sneering up at Harry, convicted of the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett.
Augustus Rookwood, said the caption beneath a pockmarked man with greasy hair who was leaning against the edge of his picture, looking bored, convicted of leaking Ministry of Magic Secrets to He Who Must Not Be Named.
But Harry's eyes were drawn to the picture of the witch. Her face had leapt out at him the moment he had seen the page. She had long, dark hair that looked unkempt and straggly in the picture, though he had seen it sleek, thick, and shining.
She glared up at him through heavily lidded eyes, an arrogant, disdainful smile playing around her thin mouth.
Like Sirius, she retained vestiges of great good looks, but something, perhaps Azkaban, had taken most of her beauty.
Bellatrix Lestrange, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom.
Hermione nudged Harry and pointed at the headline over the pictures, which Harry, concentrating on Bellatrix, had not yet read.
MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS "RALLYING POINT" FOR OLD DEATH EATERS
"Black?" said Harry loudly. "Not-"
"Shhh!" whispered Hermione desperately. "Not so loud, just read it!"
The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there has been a mass breakout from Azkaban.
Speaking to reporters in his private office, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, confirmed that ten high security prisoners escaped in the early hours of yesterday evening, and that he has already informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the dangerous nature of these individuals.
"We find ourselves, most unfortunately, in the same position we were two and a half years ago when
the murderer Sirius Black and his brainwashed son Eric Owen Lupin Black, escaped," said Fudge last night. "Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this magnitude suggests outside help, and we must remember that the Blacks, as the first people ever to break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to help others follow in their footsteps. We think it likely that these individuals, who include Black's cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, have rallied around Black as their leader. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals and beg the magical commu- nity to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached."
"There you are, Harry," said Ron, looking awestruck. "That's why he was happy last night. . . ."
"I don't believe this," snarled Harry, "Fudge is blaming the break out on Sirius?"
"What other options does he have?" said Hermione bitterly. "He can hardly say, 'Sorry everyone, Dumbledore warned me this might happen, the Azkaban guards have joined Lord Voldemort', stop whimpering, Ron, 'and now Voldemort's worst supporters have broken out too.' I mean, he's spent a good six months telling everyone you and Dumbledore are liars, hasn't he?"
Hermione ripped open the newspaper and began to read the report inside while Harry looked around the Great Hall. He could not understand why his fellow students were not looking scared or at least discussing the terrible piece of news on the front page, but very few of them took the newspaper every day like Hermione.
There they all were, talking about homework and Quidditch and who knew what other rubbish, and outside these walls ten more Death Eaters had swollen Voldemort's ranks. . . .
He glanced up at the staff table. It was a different story here: Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were deep in conversation, both looking extremely grave.
Professor Sprout had the Prophet propped against a bottle of ketchup and was reading the front page with such concentration that she was not noticing the gentle drip of egg yolk falling into her lap from her stationary spoon.
Meanwhile, at the far end of the table, Professor Umbridge was tucking into a bowl of porridge. For once her pouchy toad's eyes were not sweeping the Great Hall looking for misbehaving students. She scowled as she gulped down her food and every now and then she shot a malevolent glance up the table to where Dumbledore and McGonagall were talking so intently.
"Oh no, don't let Emily see it." Hermione realised putting her cup down.
"Don't let me see what?" Emily chuckled sitting down next to her, her smile dropped seeing all there serious faces. "What?"
"Bellatrix, you know your dads cousin. Yeah she escapees Azkaban last night. There blaming it on your dad." Ron explained "What!"
"Oh my-" said Hermione wonderingly, still staring at the newspaper.
"What? What? said Emily quickly.
"It's . . . horrible," said Hermione, looking shaken. She folded back page ten of the newspaper and handed it back to Harry and Ron then passing it to Emily.
TRAGIC DEMISE OF
MINISTRY OF MAGIC WORKER
St. Mungo's Hospital promised a full inquiry last night after Ministry of Magic worker Broderick Bode, 49, was discovered dead in his bed, strangled by a potted plant. Healers called to the scene were unable to revive Mr. Bode, who had been injured in a workplace accident some weeks prior to his death. Healer Miriam Strout, who was in charge of Mr. Bode's ward at the time of the incident, has been suspended on full pay and was unavailable for comment yesterday, but a spokeswizard for the hospital said in a statement, "St. Mungo's deeply regrets the death of Mr. Bode, whose health was improving steadily prior
to this tragic accident.
"We have strict guidelines on the decorations permitted on our wards but it appears that Healer Strout, busy over the Christmas period, overlooked the dangers of the plant on Mr. Bode's bedside table. As his speech and mobility improved, Healer Strout encouraged Mr. Bode to look after the plant himself, unaware that it was not an innocent Flitterbloom, but a cutting of Devil's Snare, which, when touched by the convalescent Mr. Bode, throttled him instantly.
"St. Mungo's is as yet unable to account for the presence of the plant on the ward and asks any witch or wizard with information to come forward."
"Bode . . ." said Ron. "Bode. It rings a bell. . . ."
"We saw him," Hermione whispered. "In St. Mungo's, remember? He was in the bed opposite Lockhart's, just lying there, staring at the ceiling. And we saw the Devil's Snare arrive. She, the Healer, said it was a Christmas present. . . ."
Emily looked back at the story. A feeling of horror was rising like bile in her throat.
"How come we didn't recognize Devil's Snare . . . ? We've seen it before . . . we could've stopped this from happening . . ."
"Who expects Devil's Snare to turn up in a hospital disguised as a potted plant?" said Ron sharply. "It's not our fault, whoever sent it to the bloke is to blame! They must be a real prat, why didn't they check what they were buying?"
"Oh come on, Ron!" said Hermione shakily, "I don't think anyone could put Devil's Snare in a pot and not realize it tries to kill whoever touches it? This , this was murder. . . . A clever murder, as well. . . . If the plant was sent anonymously, how's anyone ever going to find out who did it?"
Harry was not thinking about Devil's Snare. He was remembering taking the lift down to the ninth level of the Ministry on the day of his hearing, and the sallow faced man who had got in on the Atrium level.
"I met Bode," he said slowly. "I saw him at the Ministry with your dad . . ."
Ron's mouth fell open.
"I've heard Dad talk about him at home! He was an Unspeakable, he worked in the Department of Mysteries!"
They looked at one another for a moment, then Hermione pulled the newspaper back toward her, closed it, glared for a moment at the pictures of the ten escaped Death Eaters on the front, then leapt to her feet.
"Where are you going?" said Ron, startled.
"To send a letter," said Hermione, swinging her bag onto her shoulder. "It . . . well, I don't know whether . . . but it's worth trying . . . and I'm the only one who can . . ."
"Draco! Ethan! Over here." Emily shouted across the great hall. Ethan and Draco made there way over to her and walked out with the two behind her "What? What is it?" Draco asked as Emily went and sat on the bottom step.
"Bellatrix, you know your aunt? She escaped. There blaming Sirius. Did you know? I mean it's obviously Voldermort. Did your parents say anything about it?" Emily asked her cousin, Draco.
Dracos face has gone unusually pale, he looked down at Emily, regained his posture and answered her question "No, and stay out of your dads business."
"What? What are you on about?" Ethan asked, giving Emily a confused look.
"I'm telling her to stay out her dads business. And you. If you both get dragged into it then you could both possibly be going to Azkaban or even get killed. So leave it, I'm going to send a letter to Eric, i'll see you later." Draco told them, and he swept past Emily and up the stairs.
"What is that kid on?" Ethan repeated "Cocaine. Matches his hair."
Emily suppressed a light laugh.
"Hey Hagrid!" Emily heard Ron say from behind her.
Ethan patted her on the back and ran up the stairs whilst Emily walked over to Ron, Harry and Hagrid.
Hagrid was standing beside the doors into the entrance hall, waiting for a crowd of Ravenclaws to pass. He was still as heavily bruised as he had been on the day he had come back from his mission to the giants and there was a new cut right across the bridge of his nose.
"All righ', you three?" he said, trying to muster a smile but managing only a kind of pained grimace.
"Are you okay, Hagrid?" asked Emily, following him as he lumbered after the Ravenclaws.
"Fine, fine," said Hagrid with a feeble assumption of airiness; he waved a hand and narrowly missed concussing a frightened looking Professor Vector, who was passing. "Jus' busy, yeh know, usual stuff, lessons ter prepare, couple o' salamanders got scale rot, an' I'm on probation," he mumbled.
"You're on probation?" said Emily very loudly, so that many students passing looked around curiously. "Sorry, I mean, you're on probation?" she whispered.
"Yeah," said Hagrid. "'S'no more'n I expected, ter tell yeh the truth. Yeh migh' not've picked up on it, bu' that inspection didn' go too well, yeh know . . . anyway," he sighed deeply. "Bes' go an rub a bit more chili powder on them salamanders or their tails'll be hangin' off 'em next. See yeh, Emily, Harry . . . Ron . . ."
He trudged away, out the front doors and down the stone steps into the damp grounds. Emily watched him go, wondering how much more bad news she could stand.
The fact that Hagrid was now on probation became common knowledge within the school over the next few days, but to Emily's indignation, hardly anybody appeared to be upset about it; indeed, some people, Draco Malfoy prominent among them, seemed positively gleeful.
As for the freakish death of an obscure Department of Mysteries employee in St. Mungo's, Emily, Harry, Ron, and Hermione seemed to be the only people who knew or cared.
There was only one topic of conversation in the corridors now: the ten escaped Death Eaters, whose story had finally filtered through the school from those few people who read the newspapers. Rumors were flying that some of the convicts had been spotted in Hogsmeade, that they were supposed to be hiding out in the Shrieking Shack and that they were going to break into Hogwarts, just as Sirius Black and Eric Lupin-Black had done.
Those who came from Wizarding families had grown up hearing the names of these Death Eaters spoken with almost as much fear as Voldemort's; the crimes they had committed during the days of Voldemort's reign of terror were legendary. There were relatives of
their victims among the Hogwarts students, who now found themselves the unwilling objects of a gruesome sort of reflected fame as they walked the corridors: Susan Bones, who had an uncle, aunt, and cousins who had all died at the hands of one of the ten, said miserably during Herbology that she now had a good idea what it felt like to be Harry.
"And I don't know how you stand it, it's horrible," she said bluntly, dumping far too much dragon manure on her tray of Screechsnap seedlings, causing them to wriggle and squeak in discomfort.
It was true that Emily and Ethan were the subject of much conversations now that their father had helped his cousin and nine other death eaters out. Most of the girls Emily was friends with had stopped talking to her because they were 'scared she might become like her father'. Her only friends now we're Neville, Dean, Draco, Ethan, Harry, Ron and ,of course, Hermione.
It was not only the students' mood that had changed. It was now quite common to come across two or three teachers conversing in low, urgent whispers in the corridors, breaking off their conversations the moment they saw students approaching.
"They obviously can't talk freely in the staffroom anymore," said Hermione in a low voice, as she, Emily, Harry, and Ron passed Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout huddled together outside the Charms classroom one day. "Not with Umbridge there."
"Reckon they know anything new?" said Ron, gazing back over his shoulder at the three teachers.
"If they do, we're not going to hear about it, are we?" said Harry angrily. "Not after Decree . . . What number are we on now?"
For new signs had appeared on the house notice boards the morning after news of the Azkaban breakout:
by order of
The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts
Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach.
The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty six.
Signed: high inquisitor
This latest decree had been the subject of a great number of jokes among the students. Lee Jordan had pointed out to Umbridge that by the terms of the new rule she was not allowed to tell Ethan, Fred and George off for playing Exploding Snap in the back of the class.
"Exploding Snap's got nothing to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor! That's not information relating to your subject!"
When Emily next saw Lee, the back of his hand was bleeding rather badly. Emily recommended essence of murtlap.
Emily had thought that the breakout from Azkaban might have humbled Umbridge a little, that she might have been abashed at the catastrophe that had occurred right under her beloved Fudge's nose.
It seemed, however, to have only intensified her furious desire to bring every aspect of life at Hogwarts under her personal control. She seemed determined at the very least to achieve a sacking before long, and the only question was whether it would be Professor Trelawney or Hagrid who went first.
She had been giving Emily detentions for nothing and Emily knew the reason, she just wanted answers but when Emily refused, that's when she had to write those two horrific statements on the back of her palms.
Every single Divination and Care of Magical Creatures lesson was now conducted in the presence of Umbridge and her clipboard.
She lurked by the fire in the heavily perfumed tower room, interrupting Professor Trelawney's increasingly hysterical talks with difficult questions about Ornithomancy and Heptomology, insisting that she predict students' answers before they gave them and demanding that she demonstrate her skill at the crystal ball, the tea leaves, and the rune stones in turn.
Emily thought that Professor Trelawney might soon crack under the strain; several times she passed her in the corridors (in itself a very unusual occurrence as she generally remained in her tower room), muttering wildly to herself, wringing her hands, and shooting terrified glances over her shoulder, all the time giving off a powerful smell of cooking sherry.
If she had not been so worried about Hagrid, she would have felt sorry for her, but if one of them was to be ousted out of a job, there could be only one choice for Emily as to who should remain.
Unfortunately, Emily could not see that Hagrid was putting up a better show than Trelawney. Though he seemed to be following Hermione's advice and had shown them nothing more frightening than a crup, a creature indistinguishable from a Jack Russell terrier except for its forked tail, since before Christmas, he also seemed to have lost his nerve.
He was oddly distracted and jumpy in lessons, losing the thread of what he was saying while talking to the class, answering questions wrongly and glancing anxiously at Umbridge all the time.
He was also more distant with Emily, Harry, Ron, and Hermione than he had ever been before, expressly forbidding them to visit him after dark.
"If she catches yeh, it'll be all of our necks on the line," he told them flatly, and with no desire to do anything that jeopardized his job further, they abstained from walking down to his hut in the evenings.
It seemed to Emily that Umbridge was steadily depriving her of everything that made her life at Hogwarts worth living: visits to Hagrid's house, letters from Sirius and Eric, her Firebolt, and Quidditch.
She took his revenge the only way she had: redoubling her efforts for the D.A.
Emily was pleased to see that all of them, even Zacharias Smith, had been spurred to work harder than ever by the news that ten more Death Eaters were now on the loose, but in nobody was this improvement more pronounced than in Neville.
The news of his parents' attacker's escape had wrought a strange and even slightly alarming change in him. He had not once mentioned his meeting with Emily, Harry, Ron, and Hermione on the closed ward in St. Mungo's, and taking their lead from him, they had kept quiet about it too. But Emily noticed he had been a lot more comfortable with her then he had been before.
Nor had he said anything on the subject of Bellatrix and her fellow torturers' escape; in fact, he barely spoke during D.A. meetings anymore, but worked relentlessly on every new jinx and countercurse Emily and Harry taught them, his plump face screwed up in concentration, apparently indifferent to injuries or accidents, working harder than anyone else in the room.
He was improving so fast it was quite unnerving and when Emily and Harry taught them the Shield Charm, a means of deflecting minor jinxes so that they rebounded upon the attacker, only Hermione mastered the charm faster than Neville.
Harry's sessions with Snape, which had started badly enough, were not improving; on the contrary, Harry felt he was getting worse with every lesson.
Before he had started studying Occlumency, his scar had prickled occasionally, usually during the night, or else following one of those strange flashes of Voldemort's thoughts or moods that he experienced every now and then.
Nowadays, however, his scar hardly ever stopped prickling, and he often felt lurches of annoyance or cheerfulness that were unrelated to what was happening to him at the time, which were always accompanied by a particularly painful twinge from his scar.
He had the horrible impression that he was slowly turning into a kind of aerial that was tuned in to tiny fluctuations in Voldemort's mood, and he was sure he could date this increased sensitivity firmly from his first Occlumency lesson with Snape.
What was more, he was now dreaming about walking down the corridor toward the entrance to the Department of Mysteries almost every night, dreams that always culminated in him standing longingly in front of the plain black door.
"Maybe it's a bit like an illness," said Hermione, looking concerned when Harry confided in her, Emily and Ron. "A fever or something. It has to get worse before it gets better."
"It's lessons with Snape that are making it worse," said Harry flatly. "I'm getting sick of my scar hurting, and I'm getting bored walking down that corridor every night." He rubbed his forehead angrily. "I just wish the door would open, I'm sick of standing staring at it."
"That's not funny," said Hermione sharply. "Dumbledore doesn't want you to have dreams about that corridor at all, or he wouldn't have asked Snape to teach you Occlumency. You're just going to have to work a bit harder in your lessons."
"I am working!" said Harry, nettled. "You try it sometime, Snape trying to get inside your head, it's not a bundle of laughs, you know!"
"Maybe . . ." said Ron slowly.
"Maybe what?" said Hermione rather snappishly.
"Maybe it's not Harry's fault he can't close his mind," said Ron darkly.
"What do you mean?" said Emily.
"Well, maybe Snape isn't really trying to help Harry. . . ."
Emily, Harry and Hermione stared at him.
Ron looked darkly and meaningfully from one to the other and to the other.
"Maybe," he said again in a lower voice, "he's actually trying to open Harry's mind a bit wider . . . make it easier for You Know-"
"Shut up, Ron," said Hermione angrily. "How many times have you suspected Snape, and when have you ever been right? Dumbledore trusts him, he works for the Order, that ought to be enough."
"He used to be a Death Eater," said Ron stubbornly. "And we've never seen proof that he really swapped sides. . . ."
"Dumbledore trusts him," Hermione repeated. "And if we can't trust Dumbledore, we can't trust anyone."
With so much to worry about and so much to do, startling amounts of homework that frequently kept the fifth years working until past midnight, secret D.A. meetings, and regular classes with Snape, January seemed to be passing alarmingly fast.
Before Emily knew it, February had arrived, bringing with it wetter and warmer weather and the prospect of the second Hogsmeade visit of the year.
On the morning of the fourteenth Harry dressed in his everyday clothes, Emily also dressed in jeans and a crop top with a black hoodie over top.
Emily and Hermione arrived at breakfast just in time for the arrival of the post owls.
Dice was not there, not that she had expected him, but Hermione was tugging a letter from the beak of an unfamiliar brown owl as they sat down.
"And about time! If it hadn't come today . . ." she said eagerly, tearing open the envelope and pulling out a small piece of parchment. Her eyes sped from left to right as she read through the message and a grimly pleased expression spread across her face.
"Listen, Harry, Emily," she said, looking up at them. "This is really important. . . . Do you think you could meet me in the Three Broomsticks around midday?"
"Well, I've got to go and ask Theo's some questions so I'm not sure." Emily shrugged making herself a cup of tea.
"Same, I have to explain everything to Cho." Harry added
"Well, bring Cho along if you must, Emily do not bring Theo.," said Hermione urgently. "But will you come?"
"Well . . . all right, but why?"
"I haven't got time to tell you now, I've got to answer this quickly."
And she hurried out of the Great Hall, the letter clutched in one hand and a piece of uneaten toast in the other.
"Are you coming?" Emily asked Ron, but he shook his head, looking glum.
"I can't come into Hogsmeade at all, Angelina wants a full day's training. Like it's going to help, we're the worst team I've ever seen. You should see Sloper and Kirke, they're pathetic, even worse than I am." He heaved a great sigh. "I dunno why Angelina won't just let me resign. . . ."
"It's because you're good when you're on form, that's why," said Harry irritably.
He found it very hard to be sympathetic to Ron's plight when he himself would have given almost anything to be playing in the forth coming match against Hufflepuff.
Ron seemed to notice Harry's tone, because he did not mention Quidditch again during breakfast, and there was a slight frostiness in the way they said good bye to each other shortly afterward.
Ron departed for the Quidditch pitch. Emily and Harry both stared at each other, completely regretting what they were doing.
Theo was waiting for him a little to the side of the oak front doors, Emily grained, parted from Harry and walked over to him seeing Theo's face light up with happiness.
"Hi," said Theo slightly breathlessly.
"Yo." said Emily.
They stared at each other for a moment, then Theo said, "Well, er, shall we go, then?"
"Okay."
They joined the queue of people being signed out by Filch, occasionally Harry and Emily would make eye contact and smile widely.
Emily was relieved when they reached the fresh air, finding it easier to walk along in silence than just stand there looking awkward.
It was a fresh, breezy sort of day and as they passed the Quidditch stadium, Emily glimpsed Ron and Ginny skimming over the stands and felt a horrible pang that he was not up there with them. . . .
"You really miss it, don't you?" said Theo.
She looked around and saw him watching her.
"Yeah," sighed Emily. "I do."
"Remember the first time we played against each other, in the second year?" He asked her.
"Yeah," said Harry, a straight look still on her face. "You kept blocking me."
"And Wood told you to knock me out," said Theo, smiling reminiscently. "I heard he got taken on by Pride of Portree, is that right?"
"Nah, it was Puddlemere United, I saw him at the World Cup last year."
"Oh, I saw you there too, remember? We were on the same campsite. It was really good, wasn't it?"
"Not my best night." Emily muttered under her breath.
As the two walked down the path Emily caught a glimpse of Cho and Harry. The two were talking and Emily was happy that they were finally sorting it out, but anger rose in her when the group of Slytherin girls she hated began walking towards Harry including Pansy Parkinson.
"Potter and Chang!" screeched Pansy to a chorus of snide giggles. "Urgh, Chang, I don't think much of your taste. . . . At least Diggory was good looking!"
They sped up, talking and shrieking in a pointed fashion with many exaggerated glances back at Harry and Cho, leaving an embarrassed silence in their wake.
"She has some nerve she does." Emily said watching the brunette walk off still laughing.
"She's right. Harry's not really a good looking boy is he. Even Dracos better looking than him." Theo laughed but Emily slapped him over the head "Harry is very fit! Wash your eyes out!"
Theo looked at her and smirked before they both began to laugh "He is!" Emily giggled.
"Harry? What are you looki-" Cho turned around seeing Harry watching the two "Oh."
"So . . . where d'you want to go?" Theo asked as they entered Hogsmeade.
The High Street was full of students ambling up and down, peering into the shop windows and messing about together on the pavements.
"Oh . . . I don't mind," said Emily, shrugging. "Um . . . shall we just have a look in the shops or something?"
They wandered toward Dervish and Banges. A large poster had been stuck up in the window and a few Hogsmeaders were looking at it.
They moved aside when Theo and Emily approached and Emily found herself staring once more at the picture of her second cousin. The poster ("By Order of the Ministry of Magic") offered a thousand Galleon reward to any witch or wizard with information relating to the recapture of any of the convicts pictured.
"Is it weird? Seeing your fathers side of the family like that? I mean, I remember when him and your brother broke into Hogsmeade. Bet your lucky you got to grow up without them."
"Yeah," said Emily, tearing her eyes away from Bellatrix Lestrange's face to glance up and down the High Street. "Yeah, it is weird. . . ." She was not sorry that there were no dementors nearby, but now she came to think of it, their absence was highly significant.
They had not only let the Death Eaters escape, they were not bothering to look for them. . . . It looked as though they really were outside Ministry control now.
The ten escaped Death Eaters were staring out of every shop window she and Theo passed. It started to rain as they passed Scrivenshaft's; cold, heavy drops of water kept hitting Emily's face and the back of her neck.
"Here. Take it." Theo top of his coat and went to put it on him "No, i'm fine." Emily laughed awkwardly but Theo placed it round her shoulders and began to ruffle her head.
"Stop it, idiot." Emily laughed pushing him off.
"d'you want to get a coffee?" said Theo tentatively, as the rain began to fall more heavily.
"Yeah, all right," said Emily, looking around. "Where-"
"She doesn't even like coffee. Honestly the boy has no game." Harry said, spinning back around to Cho "Right. I have heard Emily likes her tea."
"Oh, there's a really nice place just up here, haven't you ever been to Madam Puddifoot's?" Theo said brightly, and he led her up a side road and into a small tea shop that Emily had never noticed before.
It was a cramped, steamy little place where everything seemed to have been decorated with frills or bows. Emily was reminded unpleasantly of Umbridge's office.
"Romantic right?" said Theo happily.
"Er . . . yeah," said Emily untruthfully.
"Look, she's decorated it for Valentine's Day!" said Theo, indicating a number of golden cherubs that were hovering over each of the small, circular tables, occasionally throwing pink confetti over the occupants.
"Who are you and what have you done to my Theo?" Emily asked watching his face glow "This is just a romantic Theo. You should get to know him."
"Aaah . . ."
They sat down at a table, which was situated in the steamy window. Cho and Harry also sat on a table across the room.
Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, was sitting about a foot and a half away with a pretty blonde girl.
They were holding hands. The sight made Emily feel lonely, particularly when, looking around the tea shop, she saw that it was full of nothing but couples, all of them holding hands.
What if Theo tried to hold her hand? This day was supposed to be spent with Harry. Why did she even agree to do with this?
"What can I get you, m'dears?" said Madam Puddifoot, a very stout woman with a shiny black bun, squeezing between their table and Roger Davies's with great difficulty.
"Two coffees, please," said Theo.
"Honestly!" Harry shouted slamming his hands on the table causing everyone in the shop to look round at him "Sorry."
In the time it took for their coffees to arrive, Roger Davies and his girlfriend started kissing over their sugar bowl.
Emily wished they wouldn't; she felt that maybe Theo made her come in here to kiss her. At this point Emily wanted to shoot herself.
She felt her face growing hot and tried staring out of the window, but it was so steamed up she could not see the street outside.
To postpone the moment when she had to look at Theo she stared up at the ceiling as though examining the paintwork and received a handful of confetti in the face from their hovering cherub.
After a few more painful minutes Theo mentioned Umbridge; Emily seized on the subject with relief and they passed a few happy moments abusing her, but the subject had already been so thoroughly canvassed during D.A. meetings it did not last very long.
Silence fell again. Emily played with the necklace Harry had gordon her.
"Er . . . listen, d'you want to come with me to the Three Broomsticks at lunchtime? I'm meeting Hermione Granger there." Emily heard Harry ask and she turned to look at him.
Cho raised her eyebrows.
"You're meeting Hermione Granger? Today?"
"Yeah. Well, she asked me to, so I thought I would. D'you want to
come with me? She said it wouldn't matter if you did."
"Oh . . . well . . . that was nice of her."
But Cho did not sound as though she thought it was nice at all; on
the contrary, her tone was cold and all of a sudden she looked rather forbidding.
A few more minutes passed in total silence, Emily trying to drink her coffe but almost gagging every time.
Next door, Roger Davies and his girlfriend seemed glued together by the lips.
"There so cute, look at them. I haven't saw Emily laugh like that in ages." A hufflepuff boy pointed out. Harry looked over and felt sadness rising in him. He had been so busy with himself and Voldermort he forget to make his favourite person feel loved and safe. And truth be told she did look happier with Theo. Even though Harry had never said it, he loved her, and he loved her that much that if Theo made her happiest, he'd let her go.
Harry turned back to Cho and decided to maybe show some sort of affection to Cho so Emily would leave him and go and be happy.
But Cho was now watching Roger Davies kissing his girlfriend with a mildly interested expression.
"He asked me out, you know," she said in a quiet voice. "A couple of weeks ago. Roger. I turned him down, though."
Harry, who had made to grab her hand, could not think why she was telling him this. If she wished she were sitting at the table next to Emily being heartily kissed by Roger Davies, why had she asked to come with him.
He said nothing. Their cherub threw another handful of confetti over them; some of it landed in the last cold dregs of coffee Harry had been about to drink.
"I came in here with Cedric last year," said Cho.
In the second or so it took for him to take in what she had said, Harry's insides had become glacial. He could not believe she wanted to talk about Cedric now, while kissing couples surrounded them and a cherub floated over their heads.
Cho's voice was rather higher when she spoke again.
"I've been meaning to ask you for ages. . . . Did Cedric-did he m-m-mention me at all before he died?"
This was the very last subject on earth Harry wanted to discuss, and least of all with Cho.
"Well ,no," he said quietly. "There-there wasn't time for him to say anything. Erm . . . so . . . d'you . . . d'you get to see a lot of Quidditch in the holidays? You support the Tornados, right?"
His voice sounded falsely bright and cheery. To his horror, he saw that her eyes were swimming with tears again, just as they had been after the last D.A. meeting before Christmas.
"Look," he said desperately, leaning in so that nobody else could overhear, "let's not talk about Cedric right now. . . . Let's talk about something else. . . ."
But this, apparently, was quite the wrong thing to say.
"I thought," she said, tears spattering down onto the table. "I thought you'd u-u-understand! I need to talk about it! Surely you n-need to talk about it t-too! I mean, you saw it happen, d-didn't you?"
Everything was going nightmarishly wrong; Roger Davies' girlfriend had even unglued herself to look around at Cho crying.
"Well, I have talked about it," Harry said in a whisper, "to Emily, Ron and Hermione, but-"
"Oh, you'll talk to Emily Lupin-Black!" she said shrilly, her face now shining with tears, and several more kissing couples broke apart to stare. "But you won't talk to me! P-perhaps it would be best if we just . . . just p-paid and you went and met up with Emily, like you obviously want to! She's right over there!"
"No, me and Emily are done. She's with Theo. I didn't mean to upset you." Harry shouted.
Harry stared at her, utterly bewildered, as she seized a frilly napkin and dabbed at her shining face with it. "Cho?" he said weakly, wishing Roger would seize his girlfriend and start kissing her again to stop her goggling at him and Cho.
"Go on, leave!" she said, now crying into the napkin. "I don't know why you asked me out in the first place if you're going to make arrangements to meet other girls right after me. . . . How many are you going to speak to after Emily?"
"It's not like that!" said Harry, for a moment her thought he fixed it.
Cho sprang to her feet. The whole tearoom was quiet, and everybody was watching them now.
"I'll see you around, Harry," she said dramatically, and hiccuping slightly she dashed to the door, wrenched it open, and hurried off into the pouring rain.
Harry turned round to see Emily sat there, what the hell was he on about? "Harry?" Emily whispered.
Harry could see tears sparkling in her eyes, this is exactly why he needed to let her go, because of him she was upset, again.
He gave one final look at her before shouting"Cho!" Harry called after Cho, but the door had already swung shut behind her with a tuneful tinkle.
There was total silence within the tea shop. Every eye was upon Harry. He threw a Galleon down onto the table, shook pink confetti out of his eyes, and followed Cho out of the door.
"Well, at least we can be together now." Theo laughed "Are you joking?" Emily asked.
Theo squinted his eyes in confusion "Theo me and you had been friends since we were about five, I thought today I was seeing the Theo that I used to love, who I used to see as my brother. Theo, you know I liked Harry, it's always been Harry. And you know that but yet you tried to ruin it, and I was stupid enough to think maybe today we could've sorted it out!"
"We can sort it out, but only if you'll be with me." Theo shouted now standing up.
"Harry has just embarrassed me in front of everyone. The Theo that I knew, would've been there for me. Not try and get with me. When you come back to your senses, then we can talk about becoming friends. Thank you for bringing me out. Now if you don't mind I'm going up to rant to Ron and then when Hermione gets back I will also rant to her!"
Emily stormed outside. It was raining hard now. She simply did not understand what had happened. Harry and her were going perfect, what did she keep doing to ruin it?"
Emily took of Theo's jacket and slammed it onto ground, sloshing down the rain washed street with her hands holding each other.
She turned right and broke into a splashy run, and within minutes she was off Hogsmeade and almost at the castle again.
Once Emily got up to the common room, no one was in there.
She sat on the sofa and cuddled up into a blanket, her mascara smudged all over her face from the rain but mostly from her crying.
Just as she began to fall asleep the entrance to the common room opened.
Umbridge walked in wearing a very fancy pink hat that matched with her usual pink bag and dress "Ah, there you are. Come with me Black, it is detention time."
Emily sighed, she couldn't be bothered to argue, she didn't want to. She wanted to feel this pain. She wasn't exactly sure why, but she craved the feeling of that quil marking into her hands.
She went up and sat in Umbridge's office as she placed a paper and quill infront of her "You know what you have to do Black. Now I shall ask you some questions while you do so."
Half way through, Umbridge began to get to the person questions "So, your oldest brother, the brainwashed one, have you been in contact with him?"
"No."
"And your father? The murderer?"
"No."
"Now I come to think of it, your family has had some unlucky pasts. Sirius Blacks parents had some very good punishments, although your uncle became a death eater. In fact I don't know one person from Blacks side of the family who isn't a Deatheater. And Lupins side, there to soft. Well expect for you father, I wonder how many children he's killed on the full moon?"
Umbridge expected Emily to snap, but instead she focused on the paper and wrote the statements. Umbridge finished the session when Emily physically could not lift up her hands anymore "It's good you are accepting the punishment now. Your grandmother would have been proud."
Emily left the office and stormed back up to the common room.
Again no one was there, she didn't know what to do with her hands, they were bleeding heavily and Hermione wasn't here to help.
She ran up the stairs to the girls common room and turned the tap on, putting her hands under it.