Unedited
Chapter Twenty Six - "Spider enthusiasts."
Summer is creeping over the grounds around the castle; sky and lake alike turn periwinkle blue and flowers large as cabbages burst into bloom in the greenhouses. But with no Hagrid visible from the castle windows, striding the grounds with Fang at his heels, the scene doesn't look right to me; no better, in fact, than inside of the castle, where things are so horribly wrong.
Harry, Ron and I have tried to visit Hermione, Elinor and Maya, but visitors are now barred from the hospital wing.
"We're taking no more chances," Madam Pomfrey tells us severely through a crack in the hospital door. "No, I'm sorry, there's every chance the attacker might come back to finish these people off ..."
I've moved into the boys dormitory, into Harry and Ron's room (I added a bed using magic), because looking at the three empty beds is depressing.
With Dumbledore gone, fear has spread as never before, so that the sun warming the castle walls outside seems to stop at the mullioned windows. There's barely a face to be seen in the school that doesn't look worried and tense, and any laughter that rings through the corridors sounds shrill and unnatural and is quickly stifled.
That's why I've made it my mission to get a little bit of laughter into lesson. I'm hiding my sadness behind a smile.
I'm constantly repeating Dumbledore's final words to myself. "I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me ... Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it." But what good are these words? Who exactly are we suppose to ask for help, when everyone is just as confused and scared as we are? Who invented chocolate?
All important questions.
Hagrid's hint about the spiders is far easier to understand - the throw me is, there doesn't seem to be a single spider left in the castle to follow. I look everywhere I go, helped by Harry and (rather reluctantly) by Ron. We're hampered, of course, by the fact that we aren't allowed to wander off on our own, but have to move around the castle in a pack with the other Gryffindors. Most of my fellows students seem glad that we're being shepherded from class to class by teachers, but I find it really annoying.
One person, however, seems to be thoroughly enjoying the atmosphere of terror and suspicion. Draco Malfoy is strutting around the school as though he's just been appointed Head Boy. I don't realise what he's so pleased about until the Potions lesson about a fortnight after Dumbledore and Hagrid have left, when, sitting right behind Malfoy, I overhear him gloating to Crabbe and Goyle.
"I always thought Father might be the one who got rid of Dumbledore," he says, not troubling to keep his voice down. "I told you he thinks Dumbledore's the worst Headmaster the school's ever had. Maybe we'll get a decent Headmaster now. Someone who won't want the Chamber of Secrets closed. McGonagall won't last long, she's only filling in ..."
Snape sweeps past me, making no comment about Maya and Elinor's empty seat and cauldron.
"Sir," says Malfoy loudly. "Sir, why don't you apply for the Headmaster's job?"
"Now, now, Malfoy," says Snape, though he can't suppress a thin-lipped smile. "Professor Dumbledore has only been suspended by the governors. I dare say he'll be back with us soon enough."
"Yeah, right," says Malfoy, smirking. "I expect you'd have Father's vote, sir, if you wanted to apply for the job. I'll tell Father you're the best teacher here, sir ..."
Snape smirks as he sweeps off around the dungeon, fortunately not spotting Seamus, who's pretending to vomit into his cauldron.
"Suck up," I cough, and smile innocently when Snape looks at me. He turns back towards Seamus, who's now stifling his laughter.
"I'm quite surprised the Mudbloods haven't all packed their bags by now," Malfoy goes on, "Bet you five Galleons the next one dies. Pity it wasn't Granger ..."
What I would give to punch him.....
The bell rings at that moment, which is lucky; at Malfoy's last words, Ron leapt off his stool, and in the scramble to collect bags and books, his attempts to reach Malfoy goes unnoticed.
"Let me at him," Ron growls, as Harry and Dean hang onto his arms. "I don't care, I don't need my wand, I'm going to kill him with my bare hands -"
"Hurry up, I've got to take you all to Herbology," barks Snape over the class's heads, and off we go, crocodile fashion, with Harry, Ron, Dean and I bringing up the rear, Ron still trying to get loose. It's only safe to let go of gym when Snape's seen us out of the castle, as we're making our way across the vegetable patch towards the greenhouses.
The Herbology class is very subdued; there are now four missing from our number.
Professor Sprout sets us all to work pruning the Abyssinian Shrivelfigs. Harry and I go to tip an armful each of withered stalks to the compost heap and find ourselves face to face with Ernie Macmillan. Ernie takes a deep breath, and says, very formally, "I just want to say to both of you, that I'm sorry I ever suspected you. I know you'd never attack your friends, and I apologise for all the stuff I said. We're all in the same boat now, and, well -"
He holds out a pudgy hand, and Harry shakes it.
Then he turns to me, looking weary.
"I'm not going to hurt you," I sigh, and shake his hand as well. "The past is in the past."
Ernie and his friend Hannah com to work at the same Shrivelfig as Harry, Ron and I.
"That Draco Malfoy character," says Ernie, breaking off dead twigs, "he seems very pleased about all this, doesn't he? D'you know, I think he might be Slytherin's heir."
"That's clever of you," says Ron, who doesn't seem to have forgiven Ernie yet.
"Do you think it's Malfoy, Harry?" Ernie asks.
"No," says Harry, so firmly that Ernie and Hannah stare.
A second later, Harry hits Ron and I over the hands with his pruning shears.
"What the fuck?"
"Ouch! What're you -"
Harry's pointing at the ground a few feet away. Several large spiders are scurrying across the earth.
"Finally!"
"Oh, yeah," says Ron, trying and failing to look pleased. "But we can't follow them now ..."
Ernie and Hannah are listening curiously.
"We really like spiders," I tell them. "Spider enthusiasts. Especially Ron. He's hiding his excitement right now."
"Looks like they're heading for the Forbidden Forest ..." Harry says.
And Ron looks even unhappier about that.
At the end of the lesson Professor Sprout escorts the class to our Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. Harry, Ron and I lag behind the others so we can talk out of earshot.
"We'll have to use the Invisibility Cloak again," Harry tells us. "We can take Fang with us. He's used to going into the Forest with Hagrid, he might be some help."
"Right," says Ron, who's twirling his wan nervously in his fingers. "Er - aren't there - aren't there supposed to be werewolves in the Forest?" he adds, as we take our usual places at the back of Lockhart's classroom.
"It's not a full moon Ron. Also, I'm pretty sure that's a myth," I say thoughtfully. "There are good things in there, too. The centaurs are all right, and the unicorns."
Lockhart bounds into the room and the class stare at him. Every other teacher is looking grimmer than usual, but Lockhart appears nothing short of buoyant.
"Come now," he cries, beaming around him, "why all these long faces?"
People swap exasperated looks, but nobody answers.
"Don't you people realise," says Lockhart, speaking slowly, as though we're all a bit dim, "the danger has past! The culprit has been taken away."
"Says who?" Dean says loudly.
"My dear young man, the Minister of Magic wouldn't have taken Hagrid if he hadn't been one hundred per cent sure that he was guilty," says Lockhart, in the tone of someone explaining that one and one makes two.
"Oh, yes he would," says Ron.
"I flatter myself I know a touch more about Hagrid's arrest than you do, Mr Weasley," says Lockhart in a self satisfied tone.
"There's no proof it was Hagrid," I say loudly.
Lockhart turns to me. He's smiling at me, and talks to me slowly, like I'm five. "Then why would they have arrested him?"
"Because they need someone to blame. It's politics, they're using him as a scapegoat."
Lockhart stares at me blankly, before turning away. Lockhart's disgusting cheeriness, his hints that he's always thought Hagrid is no good, his confidence that the whole business is now at an end, irritates me so much that I'm close to throwing Gadding with Ghouls right in Lockhart's stupid face. Instead I sprawl a note to Ron and Harry: "Let's follow the spiders tonight."
Harry nods. Ron reads the message, swallows hard and looks sideways at the empty seats usually filled by our friends. The sight seems to stiffen his resolve, and he nods.
*
The Gryffindor common room is always very crowded these days, because from six o'clock onwards, the Gryffindors have nowhere else to go. They also have plenty to talk about, with the result that the common room often doesn't empty until past midnight.
Harry goes to get the Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk right after dinner, and spends the evening sitting on it, as we wait for the room to clear. Fred and George challenge us to a few games of Exploding Snap and Ginny sits watching us, very subdued in Hermione's usual chair. Harry and Ron keep loosing in purpose (I'm too competitive to do that), trying to finish the games quickly, but even so, it's well past midnight when Fred, George and Ginny finally go to bed.
We wait for the distant sounds of two dormitory doors closing before seizing the Cloak, throwing it over ourselves, and climbing through the portrait hole.
It's another difficult journey through the castle, dodging all the teachers. As last we reach the Entrance Hall, slide back the lock on the oak front doors, squeeze between them, trying to stop any creaking, and step out into the moonlit grounds.
"Course," says Ron abruptly, as we stride across the black grass, "we might get to the Forest and find there's nothing to follow. Those spiders might not've been going there at all. I know it looked like they were moving in that sort of general direction, but ..."
His voice tails away hopefully.
We reach Hagrid's house, sad and sorry-looking with its blank windows. When I push the door open, Fang goes mad with joy at the sight of us. I ssh him quickly, scratching the back of his ears.
Harry leaves the Invisibility Cloak on Hagrid's table. We won't need it in the Forest.
"C'mon, Fang, we're going for a walk," says Harry, patting his leg, and Fang bounds happily out of the house behind us, dash to the edge of the Forest and lifts his leg against a large sycamore tree.
I take out my wand, murmur, "Lumos!" and a tiny light appears at the end of it, just enough to let us watch the path for signs of spiders.
"Good thinking," says Ron. "I'd light mine too, but you know - it'd probably blow up or something ..."
Harry lights his, then points at the grass. Two solitary spiders are hurrying away from the wand light into the shade of the trees.
"OK," Ron sighs, as though resigned to the worst, "I'm ready. Let's go."
So, with Fang scampering around us, sniffing tree roots and leaves, we enter the Forest. By the flow of Harry's wand and my own, we follow the steady trickle of spiders moving along the path. We walk for about twenty minutes, not speaking, listening hard for noise other than breaking twigs and rustling leaves. Then, when the trees have become thicker than ever, so that the stars overhead are no longer visible, and our wands shine alone in the sea of dark, I see our spider guides leaving the path.
I pause, trying to see where the spiders are going, but everything outside my little sphere of light is pitch black. I've never been this deep into the Forest before.
"What d'you reckon?" Harry says to us.
"We've come this far," says Ron.
So we follow the darting shadows of the spiders into the trees. We can't move very quickly now; there are tree roots and stumps in our way, barely visible in the near blackness. I can feel Fang's hot breath on my hand. More than once, we have to stop, so that I can crouch down and find the spiders in the wandlight.
We walk for what seems like at least half an hour, our robes snagging on low-sling branches and brambles. After a while, I notice that the ground seems to be sloping downwards, though the tress are as thick as ever.
Then Fang suddenly lets loose a great, echoing bark, making us jump out of our skins.
"Holy frick frack," I gasp.
"What?" says Ron loudly, looking around into the pitch dark and gripping my elbow very hard.
"There's something moving over there," I breath. "Listen ... Sounds like something big.
We listen. Some distance to our right, the something big is snapping branches as it carved a path through the trees.
"Oh no," says Ron. "Oh no, oh no, oh -"
"Shut up," says Harry frantically. "It'll hear you."
"Hear me?" says Ron in an unnaturally high voice. "It's already heard Fang!"
The darkness seems to be pressing on my eyes as we stand, terrified, waiting. There's a strange rumbling noise and then silence.
"What d'you think it's doing?" says Harry.
"Probably getting ready to pounce," says Ron.
"Positive thoughts, Ron, positive," I mutter.
We wait, shivering, hardly daring to move.
"D'you think it's gone?" Harry whispers.
"Dunno -"
Then, to our right, comes a sudden blaze of light, so bright in the darkness that the three of us fling up our hands to shield our eyes. Fang yelps and tried to run, but gets lodged in a tangle of throne and yelps even louder.
"Harry!" Ron shouts, his voice breaking in relief. "Emily, it's our car!"
"What?"
"Are you serious? We were pissing ourselves over a freaking car!"
"Come on!
I help Fang out of the thorns and I blunder after Harry and Ron towards the light, stumbling and tripping, and a moment later we have emerged into the clearing.