“I knew it!” yelled Ron, punching the air. “You always get away with stuff!”
“They were bound to clear you,” said Hermione, who had looked positively faint with anxiety when Harry had entered the kitchen and was now holding a shaking hand over her eyes. “There was no case against you, none at all . . .”
“Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering they all knew I’d get off,” said Harry, smiling.
Mrs. Weasley was wiping her face on her apron, and Fred, George, and Ginny were doing a kind of war dance to a chant that went “He got off, he got off, he got off —”
“That’s enough, settle down!” shouted Mr. Weasley, though he too was smiling. “Listen, Sirius, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry —”
“What?” said Sirius sharply.
“He got off, he got off, he got off —”
“Be quiet, you three! Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on level nine, then they went up to Fudge’s office together. Dumbledore ought to know.”
“Absolutely,” said Sirius. “We’ll tell him, don’t worry.”
“Well, I’d better get going, there’s a vomiting toilet in Bethnal Green waiting for me. Molly, I’ll be late, I’m covering for Tonks, but Kingsley might be dropping in for dinner —”
“He got off, he got off, he got off —”
“That’s enough — Fred — George — Ginny!” said Mrs. Weasley, as Mr. Weasley left the kitchen. “Harry dear, come and sit down, have some lunch, you hardly ate breakfast . . .”
Ron and Hermione sat themselves down opposite him looking happier than they had done since he had first arrived at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, and Harry’s feeling of giddy relief, which had been somewhat dented by his encounter with Lucius Malfoy, swelled again. The gloomy house seemed warmer and more welcoming all of a sudden; even Kreacher looked less ugly as he poked his snoutlike nose into the kitchen to investigate the source of all the noise.
“’Course, once Dumbledore turned up on your side, there was no way they were going to convict you,” said Ron happily, now dishing great mounds of mashed potatoes onto everyone’s plates.
“Yeah, he swung it for me,” said Harry. He felt that it would sound highly ungrateful, not to mention childish, to say, “I wish he’d talked to me, though. Or even looked at me.”
And as he thought this, the scar on his forehead burned so badly that he clapped his hand to it.
“What’s up?” said Hermione, looking alarmed.
“Scar,” Harry mumbled. “But it’s nothing. . . . It happens all the time now . . .”
None of the others had noticed a thing; all of them were now helping themselves to food while gloating over Harry’s narrow escape; Fred, George, and Ginny were still singing. Hermione looked rather anxious, but before she could say anything, Ron said happily, “I bet Dumbledore turns up this evening to celebrate with us, you know.”
“I don’t think he’ll be able to, Ron,” said Mrs. Weasley, setting a huge plate of roast chicken down in front of Harry. “He’s really very busy at the moment.”
“HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF —”
“SHUT UP!” roared Mrs. Weasley.
Over the next few days Harry could not help noticing that there was one person within number twelve, Grimmauld Place, who did not seem wholly overjoyed that he would be returning to Hogwarts. Sirius had put up a very good show of happiness on first hearing the news, wringing Harry’s hand and beaming just like the rest of them; soon, however, he was moodier and surlier than before, talking less to everybody, even Harry, and spending increasing amounts of time shut up in his mother’s room with Buckbeak.
“Don’t you go feeling guilty!” said Hermione sternly, after Harry had confided some of his feelings to her and Ron while they scrubbed out a moldy cupboard on the third floor a few days later. “You belong at Hogwarts and Sirius knows it. Personally, I think he’s being selfish.”
“That’s a bit harsh, Hermione,” said Ron, frowning as he attempted to prize off a bit of mold that had attached itself firmly to his finger, “you wouldn’t want to be stuck inside this house without company.”
“He’ll have company!” said Hermione. “It’s headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, isn’t it? He just got his hopes up that Harry would be coming to live here with him.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” said Harry, wringing out his cloth. “He wouldn’t give me a straight answer when I asked him if I could.”
“He just didn’t want to get his own hopes up even more,” said Hermione wisely. “And he probably felt a bit guilty himself, because I think a part of him was really hoping you’d be expelled. Then you’d both be outcasts together.”
“Come off it!” said Harry and Ron together, but Hermione merely shrugged.
“Suit yourselves. But I sometimes think Ron’s mum’s right, and Sirius gets confused about whether you’re you or your father, Harry.”
“So you think he’s touched in the head?” said Harry heatedly.
“No, I just think he’s been very lonely for a long time,” said Hermione simply.
At this point Mrs. Weasley entered the bedroom behind them.
“Still not finished?” she said, poking her head into the cupboard.
“I thought you might be here to tell us to have a break!” said Ron bitterly. “D’you know how much mold we’ve got rid of since we arrived here?”
“You were so keen to help the Order,” said Mrs. Weasley, “you can do your bit by making headquarters fit to live in.”
“I feel like a house-elf,” grumbled Ron.