“Ron, think about it. . . . Sturgis Podmore was trying to get through a door at the Ministry of Magic. . . . It must have been that one, it’s too much of a coincidence!”
“How come Sturgis was trying to break in when he’s on our side?” said Ron.
“Well, I don’t know,” Hermione admitted. “That is a bit odd . . .”
“So what’s in the Department of Mysteries?” Harry asked Ron. “Has your dad ever mentioned anything about it?”
“I know they call the people who work in there ‘Unspeakables,’” said Ron, frowning. “Because no one really seems to know what they do in there. . . . Weird place to have a weapon . . .”
“It’s not weird at all, it makes perfect sense,” said Hermione. “It will be something top secret that the Ministry has been developing, I expect. . . . Harry, are you sure you’re all right?”
For Harry had just run both his hands hard over his forehead as though trying to iron it.
“Yeah . . . fine . . .” he said, lowering his hands, which were trembling. “I just feel a bit . . . I don’t like Occlumency much . . .”
“I expect anyone would feel shaky if they’d had their mind attacked over and over again,” said Hermione sympathetically. “Look, let’s get back to the common room, we’ll be a bit more comfortable there . . .”
But the common room was packed and full of shrieks of laughter and excitement; Fred and George were demonstrating their latest bit of joke shop merchandise.
“Headless Hats!” shouted George, as Fred waved a pointed hat decorated with a fluffy pink feather at the watching students. “Two Galleons each — watch Fred, now!”
Fred swept the hat onto his head, beaming. For a second he merely looked rather stupid, then both hat and head vanished.
Several girls screamed, but everyone else was roaring with laughter.
“And off again!” shouted George, and Fred’s hand groped for a moment in what seemed to be thin air over his shoulder; then his head reappeared as he swept the pink-feathered hat from it again.
“How do those hats work, then?” said Hermione, distracted from her homework and watching Fred and George. “I mean, obviously it’s some kind of Invisibility Spell, but it’s rather clever to have extended the field of invisibility beyond the boundaries of the charmed object. . . . I’d imagine the charm wouldn’t have a very long life though . . .”
Harry did not answer; he was still feeling ill.
“I’m going to have to do this tomorrow,” he muttered, pushing the books he had just taken out of his bag back inside it.
“Well, write it in your homework planner then!” said Hermione encouragingly. “So you don’t forget!”
Harry and Ron exchanged looks as he reached into his bag, withdrew the planner and opened it tentatively.
“Don’t leave it till later, you big second-rater!” chided the book as Harry scribbled down Umbridge’s homework. Hermione beamed at it.
“I think I’ll go to bed,” said Harry, stuffing the homework planner back into his bag and making a mental note to drop it in the fire the first opportunity he got.
He walked across the common room, dodging George, who tried to put a Headless Hat on him, and reached the peace and cool of the stone staircase to the boys’ dormitories. He was feeling sick again, just as he had the night he had had the vision of the snake, but thought that if he could just lie down for a while he would be all right.
He opened the door of his dormitory and was one step inside it when he experienced pain so severe he thought that someone must have sliced into the top of his head. He did not know where he was, whether he was standing or lying down, he did not even know his own name. . . .
Maniacal laughter was ringing in his ears. . . . He was happier than he had been in a very long time. . . . Jubilant, ecstatic, triumphant . . . A wonderful, wonderful thing had happened. . . .
“Harry? HARRY!”
Someone had hit him around the face. The insane laughter was punctuated with a cry of pain. The happiness was draining out of him, but the laughter continued. . . .
He opened his eyes and as he did so, he became aware that the wild laughter was coming out of his own mouth. The moment he realized this, it died away; Harry lay panting on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, the scar on his forehead throbbing horribly. Ron was bending over him, looking very worried.
“What happened?” he said.
“I . . . dunno . . .” Harry gasped, sitting up again. “He’s really happy . . . really happy . . .”
“You-Know-Who is?”
“Something good’s happened,” mumbled Harry. He was shaking as badly as he had done after seeing the snake attack Mr. Weasley and felt very sick. “Something he’s been hoping for.”
The words came, just as they had back in the Gryffindor changing room, as though a stranger was speaking them through Harry’s mouth, yet he knew they were true. He took deep breaths, willing himself not to vomit all over Ron. He was very glad that Dean and Seamus were not here to watch this time.
“Hermione told me to come and check on you,” said Ron in a low voice, helping Harry to his feet. “She says your defenses will be low at the moment, after Snape’s been fiddling around with your mind. . . . Still, I suppose it’ll help in the long run, won’t it?”
He looked doubtfully at Harry as he helped him toward bed. Harry nodded without any conviction and slumped back on his pillows, aching all over from having fallen to the floor so often that evening, his scar still prickling painfully. He could not help feeling that his first foray into Occlumency had weakened his mind’s resistance rather than strengthening it, and he wondered, with a feeling of great trepidation, what had happened to make Lord Voldemort the happiest he had been in fourteen years.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE BEETLE AT BAY
Harry’s question was answered the very next morning. When 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.