Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince hp-6 Read online

  Trapped, with Slughorn’s arm around his shoulders, Snape looked down his hooked nose at Harry, his black eyes narrowed. “Funny, I never had the impression that I managed to teach Potter anything at all.”

  “Well, then, it’s natural ability!” shouted Slughorn. “You should have seen what he gave me, first lesson, Draught of Living Death—never had a student produce finer on a first attempt, I don’t think even you, Severus—”

  “Really?” said Snape quietly, his eyes still boring into Harry, who felt a certain disquiet. The last thing he wanted was for Snape to start investigating the source of his newfound brilliance at Potions.

  “Remind me what other subjects you’re taking, Harry?” asked Slughorn.

  “Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology…”

  “All the subjects required, in short, for an Auror,” said Snape with the faintest sneer.

  “Yeah, well, that’s what I’d like to do,” said Harry defiantly.

  “And a great one you’ll make too!” boomed Slughorn.

  “I don’t think you should be an Auror, Harry,” said Luna unexpectedly. Everybody looked at her. “The Aurors are part of the Rotfang Conspiracy, I thought everyone knew that. They’re planning to bring down the Ministry of Magic from within using a combination of Dark Magic and gum disease.”

  Harry inhaled half his mead up his nose as he started to laugh. Really, it had been worth bringing Luna just for this. Emerging, from his goblet, coughing, sopping wet but still grinning, he saw something calculated to raise his spirits even higher: Draco Malfoy being dragged by the ear toward them by Argus Filch.

  “Professor Slughorn,” wheezed Filch, his jowls aquiver and the maniacal light of mischief-detection in his bulging eyes, “I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and to have been delayed in setting out. Did you issue him with an invitation?”

  Malfoy pulled himself free of Filch’s grip, looking furious. “All right, I wasn’t invited!” he said angrily. “I was trying to gate crash, happy?”

  “No, I’m not!” said Filch, a statement at complete odds with the glee on his face. “You’re in trouble, you are! Didn’t the headmaster say that nighttime prowling’s out, unless you’ve got permission, didn’t he, eh?”

  “That’s all right, Argus, that’s all right,” said Slughorn, waving his hand. “It’s Christmas, and it’s not a crime to want to come to a party. Just this once, we’ll forget any punishment; you may stay, Draco.”

  Filch’s expression of outraged disappointment was perfectly predictable; but why, Harry wondered, watching him, did Malfoy look almost equally unhappy? And why was Snape looking at Malfoy as though both angry and… was it possible?… a little afraid? But almost before Harry had registered what he had seen, Filch had turned and shuffled away, muttering under his breath; Malfoy had composed his face into a smile and was thanking Slughorn for his generosity, and Snape’s face was smoothly inscrutable again.

  “It’s nothing, nothing,” said Slughorn, waving away Malfoy’s thanks. “I did know your grandfather, after all…”

  “He always spoke very highly of you, sir,” said Malfoy quickly. “Said you were the best potion-maker he’d ever known…”

  Harry stared at Malfoy. It was not the sucking-up that intrigued him; he had watched Malfoy do that to Snape for a long time. It was the fact that Malfoy did, after all, look a little ill. This was the first time he had seen Malfoy close up for ages; he now saw that Malfoy had dark shadows under his eyes and a distinctly grayish tinge to his skin.

  “I’d like a word with you, Draco,” said Snape suddenly.

  “Now, Severus,” said Slughorn, hiccuping again, “it’s Christmas, don’t be too hard—”

  “I am his Head of House, and I shall decide how hard, or otherwise, to be,” said Snape curtly. “Follow me, Draco.”

  They left, Snape leading the way, Malfoy looking resentful. Harry stood there for a moment, irresolute, then said, “I’ll be back in a bit, Luna—er—bathroom.”

  “All right,” she said cheerfully, and he thought he heard her, as he hurried off into the crowd, resume the subject of the Rotfang Conspiracy with Professor Trelawney, who seemed sincerely interested. It was easy, once out of the party, to pull his Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket and throw it over himself, for the corridor was quite deserted. What was more difficult was finding Snape and Malfoy. Harry ran down the corridor, the noise of his feet masked by the music and loud talk still issuing from Slughorn’s office behind him. Perhaps Snape had taken Malfoy to his office in the dungeons… or perhaps he was escorting him back to the Slytherin common room… Harry pressed his ear against door after door as he dashed down the corridor until, with a great jolt of excitement, he crouched down to the keyhole of the last classroom in the corridor and heard voices.

  “…cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled—”

  “I didn’t have anything to do with it, all right?”

  “I hope you are telling the truth, because it was both clumsy and foolish. Already you are suspected of having a hand in it.”

  “Who suspects me?” said Malfoy angrily. “For the last time, I didn’t do it, okay? That Bell girl must’ve had an enemy no one knows about—don’t look at me like that! I know what you’re doing, I’m not stupid, but it won’t work—I can stop you!”

  There was a pause and then Snape said quietly, “Ah… Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency, I see. What thoughts are you trying to conceal from your master, Draco?”

  “I’m not trying to conceal anything from him, I just don’t want you butting in!”

  Harry pressed his ear still more closely against the keyhole… What had happened to make Malfoy speak to Snape like this—Snape, toward whom he had always shown respect, even liking?

  “So that is why you have been avoiding me this term? You have feared my interference? You realize that, had anybody else failed to come to my office when I had told them repeatedly to be there, Draco—”

  “So put me in detention! Report me to Dumbledore!” jeered Malfoy.

  There was another pause. Then Snape said, “You know perfectly well that I do not wish to do either of those things.”

  “You’d better stop telling me to come to your office then!”

  “Listen to me,” said Snape, his voice so low now that Harry had to push his ear very hard against the keyhole to hear. “I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco—”

  “Looks like you’ll have to break it, then, because I don’t need your protection! It’s my job, he gave it to me and I’m doing it, I’ve got a plan and it’s going to work, it’s just taking a bit longer than I thought it would!”

  “What is your plan?”

  “It’s none of your business!”

  “If you tell me what you are trying to do, I can assist you…”

  “I have all the assistance I need, thanks, I’m not alone!”

  “You were certainly alone tonight, which was foolish in the extreme, wandering the corridors without lookouts or backup, these are elementary mistakes—”

  “I would’ve had Crabbe and Goyle with me if you hadn’t put them in detention!”

  “Keep your voice down!” spat Snape, for Malfoy’s voice had risen excitedly. “If your friends Crabbe and Goyle intend to pass their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. this time around, they will need to work a little harder than they are doing at pres—”

  “What does it matter?” said Malfoy. “Defense Against the Dark Arts—its all just a joke, isn’t it, an act? Like any of us need protecting against the Dark Arts—”

  “It is an act that is crucial to success, Draco!” said Snape. “Where do you think I would have been all these years, if I had not known how to act? Now listen to me! You are being incautious, wandering around at night, getting yourself caught, and if you are placing your reliance in assistants like Cr
abbe and Goyle—”

  “They’re not the only ones, I’ve got other people on my side, better people!”

  “Then why not confide in me, and I can—”

  “I know what you’re up to! You want to steal my glory!”

  There was another pause, then Snape said coldly, “You are speaking like a child. I quite understand that your father’s capture and imprisonment has upset you, but—”

  Harry had barely a second’s warning; he heard Malfoy’s footsteps on the other side of the door and flung himself out of the way just as it burst open. Malfoy was striding away down the corridor, past the open door of Slughorn’s office, around the distant corner, and out of sight. Hardly daring to breathe, Harry remained crouched down as Snape emerged slowly from the classroom. His expression unfathomable, he returned to the party. Harry remained on the floor, hidden beneath the Cloak, his mind racing.

  16. A VERY FROSTY CHRISTMAS

  “So Snape was offering to help him? He was definitely offering to help him?”

  “If you ask that once more,” said Harry, “I’m going to stick this sprout—”

  “I’m only checking!” said Ron. They were standing alone at the Burrow’s kitchen sink, peeling a mountain of sprouts for Mrs. Weasley. Snow was drifting past the window in front of them.

  “Yes, Snape was offering to help him!” said Harry. “He said he’d promised Malfoy’s mother to protect him, that he’d made an Unbreakable Oath or something—”

  “An Unbreakable Vow?” said Ron, looking stunned. “Nah, he can’t have… Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” said Harry. “Why, what does it mean?”

  “Well, you can’t break an Unbreakable Vow…”

  “I’d worked that much out for myself, funnily enough. What happens if you break it, then?”

  “You die,” said Ron simply. “Fred and George tried to get me to make one when I was about five. I nearly did too, I was holding hands with Fred and everything when Dad found us. He went mental,” said Ron, with a reminiscent gleam in his eyes. “Only time I’ve ever seen Dad as angry as Mum, Fred reckons his left buttock has never been the same since.”

  “Yeah, well, passing over Fred’s left buttock—”

  “I beg your pardon?” said Fred’s voice as the twins entered the kitchen.

  “Aaah, George, look at this. They’re using knives and everything. Bless them.”

  “I’ll be seventeen in two and a bit months’ time,” said Ron grumpily, “and then I’ll be able to do it by magic!”

  “But meanwhile,” said George, sitting down at the kitchen table and putting his feet up on it, “we can enjoy watching you demonstrate the correct use of a—whoops-a-daisy!”

  “You made me do that!” said Ron angrily, sucking his cut thumb. “You wait, when I’m seventeen—”

  “I’m sure you’ll dazzle us all with hitherto unsuspected magical skills,” yawned Fred.

  “And speaking of hitherto unsuspected skills, Ronald,” said George, “what is this we hear from Ginny about you and a young lady called—unless our information is faulty—Lavender Brown?”

  Ron turned a little pink, but did not look displeased as he turned back to the sprouts. “Mind your own business.”

  “What a snappy retort,” said Fred. “I really don’t know how you think of them. No, what we wanted to know was… how did it happen?”

  “What d’you mean?”

  “Did she have an accident or something?”

  “What?”

  “Well, how did she sustain such extensive brain damage? Careful, now!”

  Mrs. Weasley entered the room just in time to see Ron throw the sprout knife at Fred, who had turned it into a paper airplane with one lazy flick of his wand.

  “Ron!” she said furiously. “Don’t you ever let me see you throwing knives again!”

  “I won’t,” said Ron, “let you see,” he added under his breath, as he turned back to the sprout mountain.

  “Fred, George, I’m sorry, dears, but Remus is arriving tonight, so Bill will have to squeeze in with you two.”

  “No problem,” said George.

  “Then, as Charlie isn’t coming home, that just leaves Harry and Ron in the attic, and if Fleur shares with Ginny—”

  “—that’ll make Ginny’s Christmas—” muttered Fred.

  “—everyone should be comfortable. Well, they’ll have a bed, anyway,” said Mrs. Weasley, sounding slightly harassed.

  “Percy definitely not showing his ugly face, then?” asked Fred.

  Mrs. Weasley turned away before she answered. “No, he’s busy, I expect, at the Ministry.”

  “Or he’s the world’s biggest prat,” said Fred, as Mrs. Weasley left the kitchen. “One of the two. Well, let’s get going, then, George.”

  “What are you two up to?” asked Ron. “Cant you help us with these sprouts? You could just use your wand and then we’ll be free too!”

  “No, I don’t think we can do that,” said Fred seriously. “It’s very character-building stuff, learning to peel sprouts without magic, makes you appreciate how difficult it is for Muggles and Squibs—”

  “—and if you want people to help you, Ron,” added George, throwing the paper airplane at him, “I wouldn’t chuck knives at them. Just a little hint. We’re off to the village, there’s a very pretty girl working in the paper shop who thinks my card tricks are something marvelous… almost like real magic…”

  “Gits,” said Ron darkly, watching Fred and George setting off across the snowy yard. “Would’ve only taken them ten seconds and then we could’ve gone too.”

  “I couldn’t,” said Harry. “I promised Dumbledore I wouldn’t wander off while I’m staying here.”

  “Oh yeah,” said Ron. He peeled a few more sprouts and then said, “Are you going to tell Dumbledore what you heard Snape and Malfoy saying to each other?”

  “Yep,” said Harry. “I’m going to tell anyone who can put a stop to it, and Dumbledore’s top of the list. I might have another word with your dad too.”

  “Pity you didn’t hear what Malfoy’s actually doing, though.”

  “I couldn’t have done, could I? That was the whole point, he was refusing to tell Snape.”

  There was silence for a moment or two, then Ron said, “’Course, you know what they’ll all say? Dad and Dumbledore and all of them? They’ll say Snape isn’t really trying to help Malfoy, he was just trying to find out what Malfoy’s up to.”

  “They didn’t hear him,” said Harry flatly. “No one’s that good an actor, not even Snape.”

  “Yeah… I’m just saying, though,” said Ron.

  Harry turned to face him, frowning.

  “You think I’m right, though?”

  “Yeah, I do!” said Ron hastily. “Seriously, I do! But they’re all convinced Snape’s in the Order, aren’t they?”

  Harry said nothing. It had already occurred to him that this would be the most likely objection to his new evidence; he could hear Hermione now:

  “Obviously, Harry, he was pretending to offer help so he could trick Malfoy into telling him what he’s doing…”

  This was pure imagination, however, as he had had no opportunity to tell Hermione what he had overheard. She had disappeared from Slughorn’s party before he returned to it, or so he had been informed by an irate McLaggen, and she had already gone to bed by the time he returned to the common room. As he and Ron had left for the Burrow early the next day, he had barely had time to wish her a happy Christmas and to tell her that he had some very important news when they got back from the holidays. He was not entirely sure that she had heard him, though; Ron and Lavender had been saying a thoroughly non-verbal good-bye just behind him at the time.

  Still, even Hermione would not be able to deny one thing: Malfoy was definitely up to something, and Snape knew it, so Harry felt fully justified in saying “I told you so,” which he had done several times to Ron already.

  Harry did not get the chance to speak to
Mr. Weasley, who was working very long hours at the Ministry, until Christmas Eve night. The Weasleys and their guests were sitting in the living room, which Ginny had decorated so lavishly that it was rather like sitting in a paper-chain explosion. Fred, George, Harry, and Ron were the only ones who knew that the angel on top of the tree was actually a garden gnome that had bitten Fred on the ankle as he pulled up carrots for Christmas dinner. Stupefied, painted gold, stuffed into a miniature tutu and with small wings glued to it’s back, it glowered down at them all, the ugliest angel Harry had ever seen, with a large bald head like a potato and rather hairy feet.

  They were all supposed to be listening to a Christmas broadcast by Mrs. Weasley’s favorite singer, Celestina Warbeck, whose voice was warbling out of the large wooden wireless set. Fleur, who seemed to find Celestina very dull, was talking so loudly in the corner that a scowling Mrs. Weasley kept pointing her wand at the volume control, so that Celestina grew louder and louder. Under cover of a particularly jazzy number called “A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love,” Fred and George started a game of Exploding Snap with Ginny. Ron kept shooting Bill and Fleur covert looks, as though hoping to pick up tips. Meanwhile, Remus Lupin, who was thinner and more ragged-looking than ever, was sitting beside the fire, staring into its depths as though he could not hear Celestina’s voice.

  Oh, come and stir my cauldron,

  And if you do it right,

  I’ll boil you up some hot strong love

  To keep you warm tonight.

  “We danced to this when we were eighteen!” said Mrs. Weasley, wiping her eyes on her knitting. “Do you remember, Arthur?”

  “Mphf?” said Mr. Weasley, whose head had been nodding over the satsuma he was peeling. “Oh yes… marvelous tune…”

  With an effort, he sat up a little straighter and looked around at Harry, who was sitting next to him.

  “Sorry about this,” he said, jerking his head toward the wireless as Celestina broke into the chorus. “Be over soon.”

  “No problem,” said Harry, grinning. “Has it been busy at the Ministry?”