“You were certainly alone tonight, which was foolish in the extreme, wandering the corridors without lookouts or backup, these are elementary mistakes—”
“I would’ve had Crabbe and Goyle with me if you hadn’t put them in detention!”
“Keep your voice down!” spat Snape, for Malfoy’s voice had risen excitedly. “If your friends Crabbe and Goyle intend to pass their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. this time around, they will need to work a little harder than they are doing at pres—”
“What does it matter?” said Malfoy. “Defense Against the Dark Arts—its all just a joke, isn’t it, an act? Like any of us need protecting against the Dark Arts—”
“It is an act that is crucial to success, Draco!” said Snape. “Where do you think I would have been all these years, if I had not known how to act? Now listen to me! You are being incautious, wandering around at night, getting yourself caught, and if you are placing your reliance in assistants like Crabbe and Goyle—”
“They’re not the only ones, I’ve got other people on my side, better people!”
“Then why not confide in me, and I can—”
“I know what you’re up to! You want to steal my glory!”
There was another pause, then Snape said coldly, “You are speaking like a child. I quite understand that your fathers capture and imprisonment has upset you, but—”
Harry had barely a second’s warning; he heard Malfoy’s footsteps on the other side of the door and flung himself out of the way just as it burst open. Malfoy was striding away down the corridor, past the open door of Slughorn’s office, around the distant corner, and out of sight. Hardly daring to breathe, Harry remained crouched down as Snape emerged slowly from the classroom. His expression unfathomable, he returned to the party. Harry remained on the floor, hidden beneath the Cloak, his mind racing.
16. A VERY FROSTY CHRISTMAS
“So Snape was offering to help him? He was definitely
“If you ask that once more,” said Harry, “I’m going to stick this sprout—”
“I’m only checking!” said Ron. They were standing alone at the Burrow’s kitchen sink, peeling a mountain of sprouts for Mrs. Weasley. Snow was drifting past the window in front of them.
“An Unbreakable Vow?” said Ron, looking stunned. “Nah, he can’t have… Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” said Harry. “Why, what does it mean?”
“Well, you can’t break an Unbreakable Vow…”
“I’d worked that much out for myself, funnily enough. What happens if you break it, then?”
“You die,” said Ron simply. “Fred and George tried to get me to make one when I was about five. I nearly did too, I was holding hands with Fred and everything when Dad found us. He went mental,” said Ron, with a reminiscent gleam in his eyes. “Only time I’ve ever seen Dad as angry as Mum, Fred reckons his left buttock has never been the same since.”
“Yeah, well, passing over Fred’s left buttock—”
“I beg your pardon?” said Fred’s voice as the twins entered the kitchen.
“Aaah, George, look at this. They’re using knives and everything. Bless them.”
“I’ll be seventeen in two and a bit months’ time,” said Ron grumpily, “and then I’ll be able to do it by magic!”
“But meanwhile,” said George, sitting down at the kitchen table and putting his feet up on it, “we can enjoy watching you demonstrate the correct use of a—whoops-a-daisy!”
“You made me do that!” said Ron angrily, sucking his cut thumb. “You wait, when I’m seventeen—”
“I’m sure you’ll dazzle us all with hitherto unsuspected magical skills,” yawned Fred.
“And speaking of hitherto unsuspected skills, Ronald,” said George, “what is this we hear from Ginny about you and a young lady called—unless our information is faulty—Lavender Brown?”
Ron turned a little pink, but did not look displeased as he turned back to the sprouts. “Mind your own business.”
“What a snappy retort,” said Fred. “I really don’t know how you think of them. No, what we wanted to know was… how did it happen?”
“What d’you mean?”
“Did she have an accident or something?”
“What?”
“Well, how did she sustain such extensive brain damage? Careful, now!”
Mrs. Weasley entered the room just in time to see Ron throw the sprout knife at Fred, who had turned it into a paper airplane with one lazy flick of his wand.
“I won’t,” said Ron, “let you see,” he added under his breath, as he turned back to the sprout mountain.
“Fred, George, I’m sorry, dears, but Remus is arriving tonight, so Bill will have to squeeze in with you two.”
“No problem,” said George.
“Then, as Charlie isn’t coming home, that just leaves Harry and Ron in the attic, and if Fleur shares with Ginny—”
“—that’ll make Ginny’s Christmas—” muttered Fred.