“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 all 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 . . . okay. 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 rumor 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 rumor 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 toward 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.