The Half-Blood Prince Read online

  After the Burial

  Patches of bright blue sky were beginning to appear over the castle turrets, but these signs of approaching summer did not lift Harry’s mood. He had been thwarted, both in his attempts to find out what Malfoy was doing, and in his efforts to start a conversation with Slughorn that might lead, somehow, to Slughorn handing over the memory he had apparently suppressed for decades.

  ‘For the last time, just forget about Malfoy,’ Hermione told Harry firmly.

  They were sitting with Ron in a sunny corner of the courtyard after lunch. Hermione and Ron were both clutching a Ministry of Magic leaflet: Common Apparition Mistakes and How to Avoid Them, for they were taking their tests that very afternoon, but by and large the leaflets had not proved soothing to the nerves. Ron gave a start and tried to hide behind Hermione as a girl came round the corner.

  ‘It isn’t Lavender,’ said Hermione wearily.

  ‘Oh, good,’ said Ron, relaxing.

  ‘Harry Potter?’ said the girl. ‘I was asked to give you this.’

  ‘Thanks …’

  Harry’s heart sank as he took the small scroll of parchment. Once the girl was out of earshot he said, ‘Dumbledore said we wouldn’t be having any more lessons until I got the memory!’

  ‘Maybe he wants to check on how you’re doing?’ suggested Hermione, as Harry unrolled the parchment; but rather than finding Dumbledore’s long, narrow, slanting writing he saw an untidy sprawl, very difficult to read due to the presence of large blotches on the parchment where the ink had run.

  Dear Harry, Ron and Hermione,

  Aragog died last night. Harry and Ron, you met him, and you know how special he was. Hermione, I know you’d have liked him. It would mean a lot to me if you’d nip down for the burial later this evening. I’m planning on doing it round dusk, that was his favourite time of day. I know you’re not supposed to be out that late, but you can use the Cloak. Wouldn’t ask but I can’t face it alone.

  Hagrid

  ‘Look at this,’ said Harry, handing the note to Hermione.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ she said, scanning it quickly and passing it to Ron, who read it through looking increasingly incredulous.

  ‘He’s mental!’ he said furiously. ‘That thing told its mates to eat Harry and me! Told them to help themselves! And now Hagrid expects us to go down there and cry over its horrible hairy body!’

  ‘It’s not just that,’ said Hermione. ‘He’s asking us to leave the castle at night, and he knows security’s a million times tighter and how much trouble we’d be in if we were caught.’

  ‘We’ve been down to see him by night before,’ said Harry.

  ‘Yes, but for something like this?’ said Hermione. ‘We’ve risked a lot to help Hagrid out, but after all – Aragog’s dead. If it were a question of saving him –’

  ‘– I’d want to go even less,’ said Ron firmly. ‘You didn’t meet him, Hermione. Believe me, being dead will have improved him a lot.’

  Harry took the note back and stared down at the inky blotches all over it. Tears had clearly fallen thick and fast upon the parchment …

  ‘Harry, you can’t be thinking of going,’ said Hermione. ‘It’s such a pointless thing to get detention for.’

  Harry sighed.

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ he said. ‘I s’pose Hagrid’ll have to bury Aragog without us.’

  ‘Yes, he will,’ said Hermione, looking relieved. ‘Look, Potions will be almost empty this afternoon, with us all off doing our tests … try and soften Slughorn up a bit then!’

  ‘Fifty-seventh time lucky, you think?’ said Harry bitterly.

  ‘Lucky,’ said Ron suddenly. ‘Harry, that’s it – get lucky!’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Use your lucky potion!’

  ‘Ron, that’s – that’s it!’ said Hermione, sounding stunned. ‘Of course! Why didn’t I think of it?’

  Harry stared at them both. ‘Felix Felicis?’ he said. ‘I dunno … I was sort of saving it …’

  ‘What for?’ demanded Ron incredulously.

  ‘What on earth is more important than this memory, Harry?’ asked Hermione.

  Harry did not answer. The thought of that little golden bottle had hovered on the edges of his imagination for some time; vague and unformulated plans that involved Ginny splitting up with Dean, and Ron somehow being happy to see her with a new boyfriend, had been fermenting in the depths of his brain, unacknowledged except during dreams or the twilight time between sleeping and waking …

  ‘Harry? Are you still with us?’ asked Hermione.

  ‘Wha—? Yeah, of course,’ he said, pulling himself together. ‘Well … OK. If I can’t get Slughorn to talk this afternoon, I’ll take some Felix and have another go this evening.’

  ‘That’s decided, then,’ said Hermione briskly, getting to her feet and performing a graceful pirouette. ‘Destination … determination … deliberation …’ she murmured.

  ‘Oh, stop that,’ Ron begged her, ‘I feel sick enough as it is – quick, hide me!’

  ‘It isn’t Lavender!’ said Hermione impatiently, as another couple of girls appeared in the courtyard and Ron dived behind her.

  ‘Cool,’ said Ron, peering over Hermione’s shoulder to check. ‘Blimey, they don’t look happy, do they?’

  ‘They’re the Montgomery sisters and of course they don’t look happy, didn’t you hear what happened to their little brother?’ said Hermione.

  ‘I’m losing track of what’s happening to everyone’s relatives, to be honest,’ said Ron.

  ‘Well, their brother was attacked by a werewolf. The rumour is that their mother refused to help the Death Eaters. Anyway, the boy was only five and he died in St Mungo’s, they couldn’t save him.’

  ‘He died?’ repeated Harry, shocked. ‘But surely werewolves don’t kill, they just turn you into one of them?’

  ‘They sometimes kill,’ said Ron, who looked unusually grave now. ‘I’ve heard of it happening when the werewolf gets carried away.’

  ‘What was the werewolf’s name?’ said Harry quickly.

  ‘Well, the rumour is that it was that Fenrir Greyback,’ said Hermione.

  ‘I knew it – the maniac who likes attacking kids, the one Lupin told me about!’ said Harry angrily.

  Hermione looked at him bleakly.

  ‘Harry, you’ve got to get that memory,’ she said. ‘It’s all about stopping Voldemort, isn’t it? These dreadful things that are happening are all down to him …’

  The bell rang overhead in the castle and both Hermione and Ron jumped to their feet, looking terrified.

  ‘You’ll do fine,’ Harry told them both, as they headed towards the Entrance Hall to meet the rest of the people taking their Apparition test. ‘Good luck.’

  ‘And you too!’ said Hermione with a significant look, as Harry headed off to the dungeons.

  There were only three of them in Potions that afternoon: Harry, Ernie and Draco Malfoy.

  ‘All too young to Apparate just yet?’ said Slughorn genially. ‘Not turned seventeen yet?’

  They shook their heads.

  ‘Ah well,’ said Slughorn cheerily, ‘as we’re so few, we’ll do something fun. I want you all to brew me up something amusing!’

  ‘That sounds good, sir,’ said Ernie sycophantically, rubbing his hands together. Malfoy, on the other hand, did not crack a smile.

  ‘What do you mean, something “amusing”?’ he said irritably.

  ‘Oh, surprise me,’ said Slughorn airily.

  Malfoy opened his copy of Advanced Potion-Making with a sulky expression. It could not have been plainer that he thought this lesson was a waste of time. Undoubtedly, Harry thought, watching him over the top of his own book, Malfoy was begrudging the time he could otherwise be spending in the Room of Requirement.

  Was it his imagination, or did Malfoy, like Tonks, look thinner? Certainly he looked paler; his skin still had that greyish tinge, probably because he so rarely saw daylight t
hese days. But there was no air of smugness, or excitement, or superiority; none of the swagger that he had had on the Hogwarts Express, when he had boasted openly of the mission he had been given by Voldemort … there could be only one conclusion, in Harry’s opinion: the mission, whatever it was, was going badly.

  Cheered by this thought, Harry skimmed through his copy of Advanced Potion-Making and found a heavily corrected Half-Blood Prince’s version of An Elixir to Induce Euphoria, which seemed not only to meet Slughorn’s instructions, but which might (Harry’s heart leapt as the thought struck him) put Slughorn into such a good mood that he would be prepared to hand over that memory if Harry could persuade him to taste some …

  ‘Well, now, this looks absolutely wonderful,’ said Slughorn clapping his hands together an hour and a half later, as he stared down into the sunshine-yellow contents of Harry’s cauldron. ‘Euphoria, I take it? And what’s that I smell? Mmmm … you’ve added just a sprig of peppermint, haven’t you? Unorthodox, but what a stroke of inspiration, Harry. Of course, that would tend to counterbalance the occasional side-effects of excessive singing and nose-tweaking … I really don’t know where you get these brainwaves, my boy … unless –’

  Harry pushed the Half-Blood Prince’s book deeper into his bag with his foot.

  ‘– it’s just your mother’s genes coming out in you!’

  ‘Oh … yeah, maybe,’ said Harry, relieved.

  Ernie was looking rather grumpy; determined to outshine Harry for once, he had most rashly invented his own potion, which had curdled and formed a kind of purple dumpling at the bottom of his cauldron. Malfoy was already packing up, sour-faced; Slughorn had pronounced his Hiccoughing Solution merely ‘passable’.

  The bell rang and both Ernie and Malfoy left at once.

  ‘Sir,’ Harry began, but Slughorn immediately glanced over his shoulder; when he saw that the room was empty but for himself and Harry he hurried away as fast as he could.

  ‘Professor – Professor, don’t you want to taste my po—?’ called Harry desperately.

  But Slughorn had gone. Disappointed, Harry emptied the cauldron, packed up his things, left the dungeon and walked slowly back upstairs to the common room.

  Ron and Hermione returned in the late afternoon.

  ‘Harry!’ cried Hermione as she climbed through the portrait hole. ‘Harry, I passed!’

  ‘Well done!’ he said. ‘And Ron?’

  ‘He – he just failed,’ whispered Hermione, as Ron came slouching into the room looking most morose. ‘It was really unlucky, a tiny thing, the examiner just spotted that he’d left half an eyebrow behind … how did it go with Slughorn?’

  ‘No joy,’ said Harry, as Ron joined them. ‘Bad luck, mate, but you’ll pass next time – we can take it together.’

  ‘Yeah, I s’pose,’ said Ron grumpily. ‘But half an eyebrow! Like that matters!’

  ‘I know,’ said Hermione soothingly, ‘it does seem really harsh …’

  They spent most of their dinner roundly abusing the Apparition examiner and Ron looked fractionally more cheerful by the time they set off back to the common room, now discussing the continuing problem of Slughorn and the memory.

  ‘So, Harry – you going to use the Felix Felicis or what?’ Ron demanded.

  ‘Yeah, I s’pose I’d better,’ said Harry. ‘I don’t reckon I’ll need all of it, not twelve hours’ worth, it can’t take all night … I’ll just take a mouthful. Two or three hours should do it.’

  ‘It’s a great feeling when you take it,’ said Ron reminiscently. ‘Like you can’t do anything wrong.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ said Hermione, laughing. ‘You’ve never taken any!’

  ‘Yeah, but I thought I had, didn’t I?’ said Ron, as though explaining the obvious. ‘Same difference really …’

  As they had only just seen Slughorn enter the Great Hall and knew that he liked to take time over meals, they lingered for a while in the common room, the plan being that Harry should go to Slughorn’s office once the teacher had had time to get back there. When the sun had sunk to the level of the treetops in the Forbidden Forest they decided the moment had come, and, after checking carefully that Neville, Dean and Seamus were all in the common room, sneaked up to the boys’ dormitory.

  Harry took out the rolled-up socks at the bottom of his trunk and extracted the tiny, gleaming bottle.

  ‘Well, here goes,’ said Harry, and he raised the little bottle and took a carefully measured gulp.

  ‘What does it feel like?’ whispered Hermione.

  Harry did not answer for a moment. Then, slowly but surely, an exhilarating sense of infinite opportunity stole through him; he felt as though he could have done anything, anything at all … and getting the memory from Slughorn seemed suddenly not only possible, but positively easy …

  He got to his feet smiling, brimful of confidence.

  ‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘Really excellent. Right … I’m going down to Hagrid’s.’

  ‘What?’ said Ron and Hermione together, looking aghast.

  ‘No, Harry – you’ve got to go and see Slughorn, remember?’ said Hermione.

  ‘No,’ said Harry confidently. ‘I’m going to Hagrid’s, I’ve got a good feeling about going to Hagrid’s.’

  ‘You’ve got a good feeling about burying a giant spider?’ asked Ron, looking stunned.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Harry, pulling his Invisibility Cloak out of his bag. ‘I feel like it’s the place to be tonight, you know what I mean?’

  ‘No,’ said Ron and Hermione together, both looking positively alarmed now.

  ‘This is Felix Felicis, I suppose?’ said Hermione anxiously, holding up the bottle to the light. ‘You haven’t got another little bottle full of – I don’t know –’

  ‘Essence of Insanity?’ suggested Ron, as Harry swung his Cloak over his shoulders.

  Harry laughed and Ron and Hermione looked even more alarmed.

  ‘Trust me,’ he said. ‘I know what I’m doing … or at least …’ he strolled confidently to the door, ‘Felix does.’

  He pulled the Invisibility Cloak over his head and set off down the stairs, Ron and Hermione hurrying along behind him. At the foot of the stairs Harry slid through the open door.

  ‘What were you doing up there with her?’ shrieked Lavender Brown, staring right through Harry at Ron and Hermione emerging together from the boys’ dormitories. Harry heard Ron spluttering behind him as he darted across the room away from them.

  Getting through the portrait hole was simple; as he approached it, Ginny and Dean came through it and Harry was able to slip between them. As he did so, he brushed accidentally against Ginny.

  ‘Don’t push me, please, Dean,’ she said, sounding annoyed. ‘You’re always doing that, I can get through perfectly well on my own …’

  The portrait swung closed behind Harry, but not before he had heard Dean make an angry retort … his feeling of elation increasing, Harry strode off through the castle. He did not have to creep along, for he met nobody on his way, but this did not surprise him in the slightest: this evening, he was the luckiest person at Hogwarts.

  Why he knew that going to Hagrid’s was the right thing to do, he had no idea. It was as though the potion was illuminating a few steps of the path at a time: he could not see the final destination, he could not see where Slughorn came in, but he knew that he was going the right way to get that memory. When he reached the Entrance Hall he saw that Filch had forgotten to lock the front door. Beaming, Harry threw it open and breathed in the smell of clean air and grass for a moment before walking down the steps into the dusk.

  It was when he reached the bottom step that it occurred to him how very pleasant it would be to pass the vegetable patch on his walk to Hagrid’s. It was not strictly on the way, but it seemed clear to Harry that this was a whim on which he should act, so he directed his feet immediately towards the vegetable patch where he was pleased, but not altogether surprised, to find Professor Slughorn in
conversation with Professor Sprout. Harry lurked behind a low stone wall, feeling at peace with the world and listening to their conversation.

  ‘… I do thank you for taking the time, Pomona,’ Slughorn was saying courteously. ‘Most authorities agree that they are at their most efficacious if picked at twilight.’

  ‘Oh, I quite agree,’ said Professor Sprout warmly. ‘That enough for you?’

  ‘Plenty, plenty,’ said Slughorn, who, Harry saw, was carrying an armful of leafy plants. ‘This should allow for a few leaves for each of my third-years, and some to spare if anybody overstews them … well, good evening to you, and many thanks again!’

  Professor Sprout headed off into the gathering darkness in the direction of her greenhouses and Slughorn directed his steps to the spot where Harry stood, invisible.

  Seized with an immediate desire to reveal himself, Harry pulled off the Cloak with a flourish.

  ‘Good evening, Professor.’

  ‘Merlin’s beard, Harry, you made me jump,’ said Slughorn, stopping dead in his tracks and looking wary. ‘How did you get out of the castle?’

  ‘I think Filch must’ve forgotten to lock the doors,’ said Harry cheerfully, and was delighted to see Slughorn scowl.

  ‘I’ll be reporting that man, he’s more concerned about litter than proper security if you ask me … but why are you out here, Harry?’

  ‘Well, sir, it’s Hagrid,’ said Harry, who knew that the right thing to do just now was to tell the truth. ‘He’s pretty upset … but you won’t tell anyone, Professor? I don’t want trouble for him …’

  Slughorn’s curiosity was evidently aroused.

  ‘Well, I can’t promise that,’ he said gruffly. ‘But I know that Dumbledore trusts Hagrid to the hilt, so I’m sure he can’t be up to anything very dreadful …’

  ‘Well, it’s this giant spider, he’s had it for years … it lived in the Forest … it could talk and everything –’

  ‘I heard rumours there were Acromantula in the Forest,’ said Slughorn softly, looking over at the mass of black trees. ‘It’s true, then?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Harry. ‘But this one, Aragog, the first one Hagrid ever got, it died last night. He’s devastated. He wants company while he buries it and I said I’d go.’