TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT 42 страница

But the door opened, and Dumbledore came sweeping up the ward.

“What has happened? ” said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to Professor McGonagall. “Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I’m surprised at you — I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch —”

“There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumble- dore! ” she shrieked. “The Minister has seen to that! ”

Harry had never seen Professor McGonagall lose control like this. There were angry blotches of color in her cheeks, and her hands were balled into fists; she was trembling with fury.

“When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight’s events, ” said Snape, in a low voice, “he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch —”

“I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore! ” Professor McGonagall fumed. “I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but —”

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“My dear woman! ” roared Fudge, who likewise looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him, “as Minister of Magic, it is my deci- sion whether I wish to bring protection with me when interview- ing a possibly dangerous —”

But Professor McGonagall’s voice drowned Fudge’s. “The moment that — that thing entered the room, ” she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, “it swooped down on Crouch and — and —”

Harry felt a chill in his stomach as Professor McGonagall strug- gled to find words to describe what had happened. He did not need her to finish her sentence. He knew what the dementor must have done. It had administered its fatal kiss to Barty Crouch. It had sucked his soul out through his mouth. He was worse than dead. “By all accounts, he is no loss! ” blustered Fudge. “It seems he has been responsible for several deaths! ”

“But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius, ” said Dumble- dore. He was staring hard at Fudge, as though seeing him plainly for the first time. “He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people. ”

“Why he killed them? Well, that’s no mystery, is it? ” blustered Fudge. “He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You- Know-Who’s instructions! ”

“Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, Cornelius, ”

Dumbledore said. “Those people’s deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan suc- ceeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body. ”

Fudge looked as though someone had just swung a heavy weight into his face. Dazed and blinking, he stared back at Dumbledore as

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if he couldn’t quite believe what he had just heard. He began to sputter, still goggling at Dumbledore.

“You-Know-Who. . . returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dum- bledore. . . ”

“As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you, ” said Dumb- ledore, “we heard Barry Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort — learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins — went to free him from his father and used him to cap- ture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Volde- mort to return. ”

“See here, Dumbledore, ” said Fudge, and Harry was astonished to see a slight smile dawning on his face, “you — you can’t seri- ously believe that. You-Know-Who — back? Come now, come

now. . . certainly, Crouch may have believed himself to be acting

upon You-Know-Who’s orders — but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore. . . ”

“When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was trans- ported straight to Voldemort, ” said Dumbledore steadily. “He wit- nessed Lord Voldemort’s rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office. ”

Dumbledore glanced around at Harry and saw that he was awake, but shook his head and said, “I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight. ”

Fudge’s curious smile lingered. He too glanced at Harry, then looked back at Dumbledore, and said, “You are — er — prepared to take Harry’s word on this, are you, Dumbledore? ”

There was a moment’s silence, which was broken by Sirius

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growling. His hackles were raised, and he was baring his teeth at Fudge.

“Certainly, I believe Harry, ” said Dumbledore. His eyes were blazing now. “I heard Crouch’s confession, and I heard Harry’s ac- count of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer. ”

Fudge still had that strange smile on his face. Once again, he glanced at Harry before answering.

“You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and a boy who. . . well. . . ” Fudge shot Harry another look, and Harry suddenly under- stood.

“You’ve been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr. Fudge, ” he said quietly. Ron, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and Bill all jumped. None of them had realized that Harry was awake.

Fudge reddened slightly, but a defiant and obstinate look came over his face.

“And if I have? ” he said, looking at Dumbledore. “If I have dis- covered that you’ve been keeping certain facts about the boy very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh? And having funny turns all over the place —”

“I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been ex- periencing in his scar? ” said Dumbledore coolly.

“You admit that he has been having these pains, then? ” said Fudge quickly. “Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly — hallucinations? ” “Listen to me, Cornelius, ” said Dumbledore, taking a step to- ward Fudge, and once again, he seemed to radiate that indefinable

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sense of power that Harry had felt after Dumbledore had Stunned young Crouch. “Harry is as sane as you or I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous. ” Fudge had taken half a step back from Dumbledore, but he looked no less stubborn.

“You’ll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I’ve never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before. . . . ”

“Look, I saw Voldemort come back! ” Harry shouted. He tried to get out of bed again, but Mrs. Weasley forced him back. “I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy —”

Snape made a sudden movement, but as Harry looked at him, Snape’s eyes flew back to Fudge.

“Malfoy was cleared! ” said Fudge, visibly affronted. “A very old family — donations to excellent causes —”

“Macnair! ” Harry continued.

“Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry! ”

“Avery — Nott — Crabbe — Goyle —”

“You are merely repeating the names of those who were acquit- ted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago! ” said Fudge angrily. “You could have found those names in old reports of the trials! For heaven’s sake, Dumbledore — the boy was full of some crackpot story at the end of last year too — his tales are getting taller, and you’re still swallowing them — the boy can talk to snakes, Dumb- ledore, and you still think he’s trustworthy? ”

“You fool! ” Professor McGonagall cried. “Cedric Diggory! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic! ” “I see no evidence to the contrary! ” shouted Fudge, now match-

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ing her anger, his face purpling. “It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these last thirteen years! ”

Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had always thought of Fudge as a kindly figure, a little blustering, a little pompous, but essentially good-natured. But now a short, angry wizard stood before him, refusing, point-blank, to accept the prospect of disruption in his comfortable and ordered world — to believe that Voldemort could have risen.

“Voldemort has returned, ” Dumbledore repeated. “If you accept that fact straightaway, Fudge, and take the necessary measures, we may still be able to save the situation. The first and most essential step is to remove Azkaban from the control of the dementors —” “Preposterous! ” shouted Fudge again. “Remove the dementors? I’d be kicked out of office for suggesting it! Half of us only feel safe in our beds at night because we know the dementors are standing guard at Azkaban! ”

“The rest of us sleep less soundly in our beds, Cornelius, know- ing that you have put Lord Voldemort’s most dangerous support- ers in the care of creatures who will join him the instant he asks them! ” said Dumbledore. “They will not remain loyal to you, Fudge! Voldemort can offer them much more scope for their pow- ers and their pleasures than you can! With the dementors behind him, and his old supporters returned to him, you will be hard- pressed to stop him regaining the sort of power he had thirteen years ago! ”

Fudge was opening and closing his mouth as though no words could express his outrage.

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“The second step you must take — and at once, ” Dumbledore pressed on, “is to send envoys to the giants. ”

“Envoys to the giants? ” Fudge shrieked, finding his tongue again. “What madness is this? ”

“Extend them the hand of friendship, now, before it is too late, ” said Dumbledore, “or Voldemort will persuade them, as he did be- fore, that he alone among wizards will give them their rights and their freedom! ”

“You — you cannot be serious! ” Fudge gasped, shaking his head and retreating further from Dumbledore. “If the magical commu- nity got wind that I had approached the giants — people hate them, Dumbledore — end of my career —”

“You are blinded, ” said Dumbledore, his voice rising now, the aura of power around him palpable, his eyes blazing once more, “by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be! Your dementor has just destroyed the last remaining member of a pure-blood family as old as any — and see what that man chose to make of his life! I tell you now — take the steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, in office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest Ministers of Magic we have ever known. Fail to act — and history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort a second chance to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild! ”

“Insane, ” whispered Fudge, still backing away. “Mad. . . ” And then there was silence. Madam Pomfrey was standing frozen at the foot of Harry’s bed, her hands over her mouth. Mrs.

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Weasley was still standing over Harry, her hand on his shoulder to prevent him from rising. Bill, Ron, and Hermione were staring at Fudge.

“If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius, ” said Dumbledore, “we have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit. And I — I shall act as I see fit. ”

Dumbledore’s voice carried no hint of a threat; it sounded like a mere statement, but Fudge bristled as though Dumbledore were advancing upon him with a wand.

“Now, see here, Dumbledore, ” he said, waving a threatening fin- ger. “I’ve given you free rein, always. I’ve had a lot of respect for you. I might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I’ve kept quiet. There aren’t many who’d have let you hire werewolves, or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students without ref- erence to the Ministry. But if you’re going to work against me —” “The only one against whom I intend to work, ” said Dumble- dore, “is Lord Voldemort. If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side. ”

It seemed Fudge could think of no answer to this. He rocked backward and forward on his small feet for a moment and spun his bowler hat in his hands. Finally, he said, with a hint of a plea in his voice, “He can’t be back, Dumbledore, he just can’t be. . . ”

Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He stuck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled.

“There, ” said Snape harshly. “There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can

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still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff’s too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord’s vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold. ”

Fudge stepped back from Snape too. He was shaking his head. He did not seem to have taken in a word Snape had said. He stared, apparently repelled by the ugly mark on Snape’s arm, then looked up at Dumbledore and whispered, “I don’t know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dum- bledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry. ”

He had almost reached the door when he paused. He turned around, strode back down the dormitory, and stopped at Harry’s bed.

“Your winnings, ” he said shortly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket and dropping it onto Harry’s bedside table. “One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation cere- mony, but under the circumstances. . . ”

He crammed his bowler hat onto his head and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The moment he had disap- peared, Dumbledore turned to look at the group around Harry’s bed.

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“There is work to be done, ” he said. “Molly. . . am I right in thinking that I can count on you and Arthur? ”

“Of course you can, ” said Mrs. Weasley. She was white to the lips, but she looked resolute. “We know what Fudge is. It’s Arthur’s fondness for Muggles that has held him back at the Ministry all these years. Fudge thinks he lacks proper wizarding pride. ”

“Then I need to send a message to Arthur, ” said Dumbledore. “All those that we can persuade of the truth must be notified im- mediately, and he is well placed to contact those at the Ministry who are not as shortsighted as Cornelius. ”

“I’ll go to Dad, ” said Bill, standing up. “I’ll go now. ” “Excellent, ” said Dumbledore. “Tell him what has happened. Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be dis- creet, however. If Fudge thinks I am interfering at the Ministry —” “Leave it to me, ” said Bill.

He clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder, kissed his mother on the cheek, pulled on his cloak, and strode quickly from the room. “Minerva, ” said Dumbledore, turning to Professor McGonagall, “I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also — if she will consent to come — Madame Maxime. ”

Professor McGonagall nodded and left without a word. “Poppy, ” Dumbledore said to Madam Pomfrey, “would you be very kind and go down to Professor Moody’s office, where I think you will find a house-elf called Winky in considerable distress? Do what you can for her, and take her back to the kitchens. I think Dobby will look after her for us. ”

“Very — very well, ” said Madam Pomfrey, looking startled, and she too left.

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Dumbledore made sure that the door was closed, and that Madam Pomfrey’s footsteps had died away, before he spoke again. “And now, ” he said, “it is time for two of our number to recog- nize each other for what they are. Sirius. . . if you could resume your usual form. ”

The great black dog looked up at Dumbledore, then, in an in- stant, turned back into a man.

Mrs. Weasley screamed and leapt back from the bed. “Sirius Black! ” she shrieked, pointing at him.

“Mum, shut up! ” Ron yelled. “It’s okay! ”

Snape had not yelled or jumped backward, but the look on his face was one of mingled fury and horror.

“Him! ” he snarled, staring at Sirius, whose face showed equal dislike. “What is he doing here? ”

“He is here at my invitation, ” said Dumbledore, looking be- tween them, “as are you, Severus. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other. ”

Harry thought Dumbledore was asking for a near miracle. Sirius and Snape were eyeing each other with the utmost loathing.

“I will settle, in the short term, ” said Dumbledore, with a bite of impatience in his voice, “for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth do not stand united, there is no hope for any of us. ”

Very slowly — but still glaring at each other as though each wished the other nothing but ill — Sirius and Snape moved toward each other and shook hands. They let go extremely quickly.

“That will do to be going on with, ” said Dumbledore, stepping

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between them once more. “Now I have work for each of you. Fudge’s attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Sir- ius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher — the old crowd. Lie low at Lupins for a while; I will contact you there. ”

“But —” said Harry.

He wanted Sirius to stay. He did not want to have to say good- bye again so quickly.

“You’ll see me very soon, Harry, ” said Sirius, turning to him. “I promise you. But I must do what I can, you understand, don’t you? ”

“Yeah, ” said Harry. “Yeah. . . of course I do. ”

Sirius grasped his hand briefly, nodded to Dumbledore, trans- formed again into the black dog, and ran the length of the room to the door, whose handle he turned with a paw. Then he was gone.

“Severus, ” said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, “you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready. . . if you are prepared. . . ” “I am, ” said Snape.

He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glit- tered strangely.

“Then good luck, ” said Dumbledore, and he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius.

It was several minutes before Dumbledore spoke again. “I must go downstairs, ” he said finally. “I must see the Diggorys. Harry — take the rest of your potion. I will see all of you later. ” Harry slumped back against his pillows as Dumbledore dis-

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appeared. Hermione, Ron, and Mrs. Weasley were all looking at him. None of them spoke for a very long time.

“You’ve got to take the rest of your potion, Harry, ” Mrs. Weasley said at last. Her hand nudged the sack of gold on his bedside cabi- net as she reached for the bottle and the goblet. “You have a good long sleep. Try and think about something else for a while. . . think about what you’re going to buy with your winnings! ”

“I don’t want that gold, ” said Harry in an expressionless voice. “You have it. Anyone can have it. I shouldn’t have won it. It should’ve been Cedric’s. ”

The thing against which he had been fighting on and off ever since he had come out of the maze was threatening to overpower him. He could feel a burning, prickling feeling in the inner corners of his eyes. He blinked and stared up at the ceiling.

“It wasn’t your fault, Harry, ” Mrs. Weasley whispered. “I told him to take the cup with me, ” said Harry.

Now the burning feeling was in his throat too. He wished Ron would look away.

Mrs. Weasley set the potion down on the bedside cabinet, bent down, and put her arms around Harry. He had no memory of ever being hugged like this, as though by a mother. The full weight of everything he had seen that night seemed to fall in upon him as Mrs. Weasley held him to her. His mother’s face, his father’s voice, the sight of Cedric, dead on the ground all started spinning in his head until he could hardly bear it, until he was screwing up his face against the howl of misery fighting to get out of him.

There was a loud slamming noise, and Mrs. Weasley and Harry broke apart. Hermione was standing by the window. She was hold- ing something tight in her hand.

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“Sorry, ” she whispered.

“Your potion, Harry, ” said Mrs. Weasley quickly, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand.

Harry drank it in one gulp. The effect was instantaneous. Heavy, irresistible waves of dreamless sleep broke over him; he fell back onto his pillows and thought no more.

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THE BEGINNING

hen he looked back, even a month later, Harry found he

had only scattered memories of the next few days. It was

as though he had been through too much to take in any more. The recollections he did have were very painful. The worst, perhaps, was the meeting with the Diggorys that took place the following morning.

They did not blame him for what had happened; on the con- trary, both thanked him for returning Cedric’s body to them. Mr. Diggory sobbed through most of the interview. Mrs. Diggory’s grief seemed to be beyond tears.

“He suffered very little then, ” she said, when Harry had told her how Cedric had died. “And after all, Amos. . . he died just when he’d won the tournament. He must have been happy. ”

When they got to their feet, she looked down at Harry and said, “You look after yourself, now. ”

Harry seized the sack of gold on the bedside table.

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THE BEGINNING

“You take this, ” he muttered to her. “It should’ve been Cedric’s, he got there first, you take it —”

But she backed away from him.

“Oh no, it’s yours, dear, I couldn’t. . . you keep it. ”

Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower the following evening. From what Hermione and Ron told him, Dumbledore had spoken to the school that morning at breakfast. He had merely requested that they leave Harry alone, that nobody ask him questions or badger him to tell the story of what had happened in the maze. Most peo- ple, he noticed, were skirting him in the corridors, avoiding his eyes. Some whispered behind their hands as he passed. He guessed that many of them had believed Rita Skeeter’s article about how disturbed and possibly dangerous he was. Perhaps they were for- mulating their own theories about how Cedric had died. He found he didn’t care very much. He liked it best when he was with Ron and Hermione and they were talking about other things, or else let- ting him sit in silence while they played chess. He felt as though all three of them had reached an understanding they didn’t need to put into words; that each was waiting for some sign, some word, of what was going on outside Hogwarts — and that it was useless to speculate about what might be coming until they knew anything for certain. The only time they touched upon the subject was when Ron told Harry about a meeting Mrs. Weasley had had with Dum- bledore before going home.

“She went to ask him if you could come straight to us this sum- mer, ” he said. “But he wants you to go back to the Dursleys, at least at first. ”

“Why? ” said Harry.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

“She said Dumbledore’s got his reasons, ” said Ron, shaking his head darkly. “I suppose we’ve got to trust him, haven’t we? ”

The only person apart from Ron and Hermione that Harry felt able to talk to was Hagrid. As there was no longer a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, they had those lessons free. They used the one on Thursday afternoon to go down and visit Hagrid in his cabin. It was a bright and sunny day; Fang bounded out of the open door as they approached, barking and wagging his tail madly.

“Who’s that? ” called Hagrid, coming to the door. “ Harry! ”

He strode out to meet them, pulled Harry into a one-armed hug, ruffled his hair, and said, “Good ter see yeh, mate. Good ter see yeh. ”

They saw two bucket-size cups and saucers on the wooden table in front of the fireplace when they entered Hagrid’s cabin.

“Bin havin’ a cuppa with Olympe, ” Hagrid said. “She’s jus’ left. ” “Who? ” said Ron curiously.

“Madame Maxime, o’ course! ” said Hagrid.

“You two made up, have you? ” said Ron.

“Dunno what yeh’re talkin’ about, ” said Hagrid airily, fetching more cups from the dresser. When he had made tea and offered around a plate of doughy cookies, he leaned back in his chair and surveyed Harry closely through his beetle-black eyes.

“You all righ’? ” he said gruffly.

“Yeah, ” said Harry.

“No, yeh’re not, ” said Hagrid. “’Course yeh’re not. But yeh will be. ”

Harry said nothing.

“Knew he was goin’ ter come back, ” said Hagrid, and Harry,

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THE BEGINNING

Ron, and Hermione looked up at him, shocked. “Known it fer years, Harry. Knew he was out there, bidin’ his time. It had ter hap- pen. Well, now it has, an’ we’ll jus’ have ter get on with it. We’ll fight. Migh’ be able ter stop him before he gets a good hold. That’s Dumbledore’s plan, anyway. Great man, Dumbledore. ’S long as we’ve got him, I’m not too worried. ”

Hagrid raised his bushy eyebrows at the disbelieving expressions on their faces.

“No good sittin’ worryin’ abou’ it, ” he said. “What’s comin’ will come, an’ we’ll meet it when it does. Dumbledore told me wha’ you did, Harry. ”

Hagrid’s chest swelled as he looked at Harry.

“Yeh did as much as yer father would’ve done, an’ I can’ give yeh no higher praise than that. ”

Harry smiled back at him. It was the first time he’d smiled in days. “What’s Dumbledore asked you to do, Hagrid? ” he asked. “He sent Professor McGonagall to ask you and Madame Maxime to meet him — that night. ”

“Got a little job fer me over the summer, ” said Hagrid. “Secret, though. I’m not s’pposed ter talk abou’ it, no, not even ter you lot. Olympe — Madame Maxime ter you — might be comin’ with me. I think she will. Think I got her persuaded. ”

“Is it to do with Voldemort? ”

Hagrid flinched at the sound of the name.

“Migh’ be, ” he said evasively. “Now. . . who’d like ter come an’ visit the las’ skrewt with me? I was jokin’ — jokin’! ” he added hastily, seeing the looks on their faces.

* * *

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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

It was with a heavy heart that Harry packed his trunk up in the dormitory on the night before his return to Privet Drive. He was dreading the Leaving Feast, which was usually a cause for celebra- tion, when the winner of the Inter-House Championship would be announced. He had avoided being in the Great Hall when it was full ever since he had left the hospital wing, preferring to eat when it was nearly empty to avoid the stares of his fellow students.

When he, Ron, and Hermione entered the Hall, they saw at once that the usual decorations were missing. The Great Hall was normally decorated with the winning House’s colors for the Leav- ing Feast. Tonight, however, there were black drapes on the wall behind the teachers’ table. Harry knew instantly that they were there as a mark of respect to Cedric.