Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor

Chapter 4

"Having a little eyesight trouble, Potter?"

The sneering voice was unmistakable. Draco. How did that little worm find out, anyway?

"You're going to have a jolly time when Sirius Black finds you and you can't even see."

Draco's voice came quietly but distinctly from several rows away in the throng of students pressing through the entrance hall and toward the feast. Jostled by people, Harry let the crowd carry him along in its wake, using its mass of directionless purpose to guide him through doorways he couldn't really make out. He looked toward Draco, but could not tell which of the shadowy bodies belonged to the voice and knew that each time he looked in the wrong place he gave himself away even further.

In his imagination the students between him and Draco, caught in the flux of words hurled at him, would be looking at him strangely, testing him, wondering if Draco's words were true. He frowned and looked stonily straight ahead, muttering a "shut up, Draco," as if that would solve the situation.

Good old Draco. He could always be relied upon to say something idiotic. But this time he was right and Harry's blood froze at the thought of the escaped prisoner coming here to the castle, searching for him, finding him, coming out of the blurry gray shadows, another shadow himself, eerily indistinguishable from Harry's friends and teachers. But why would Black come after him?

Draco, once he'd taken his opening shots, said no more, apparently distracted by entering the Great Hall and intent on finding the best seat he could among the pushing, shouting Slytherins.

Harry himself, upon entering the Great Hall, the lights from a thousand candles slicing into his tired eyes, discovered that he had no idea where Ron and Hermione were, had no idea which of the long blurred tables belonged to Gryffindor. He glanced around the hall, looking desperately for familiar landmarks, for the colors of the house banners, for the enchanted ceiling covered with stars. No color met him. It wasn't as if he were watching a black-and-white movie; rather it seemed as if color itself had never existed and all he had left was a vague contrast between light and dark things, the dark ones looking indistinct and blurred, the light ones washed out by the attack of painfully glaring light. He slowed, then stopped, completely lost among the hordes of faceless, nameless people and disoriented by the echoing din.

"You ok, Harry?" Hermione's voice at his elbow made him jump and relief flooded through him. He reached out for her, finding her school robes and her shoulder, but then he drew back, embarrassed at invading her space, at touching when a touch wasn't expected or welcomed.

"Err, well, I'm not sure which table is ours," he said, his face growing hot.

"Oh, it's this one," said Hermione flatly, grasping his arm and pushing him toward the dark mass of seated students. He felt frightened and vulnerable being shunted out in front of her like that and wished she had led the way instead, but his relief at finding himself in a seat at the table outweighed his annoyance.

He'd barely found his seat when Dumbledore cleared his throat and the Hall quieted.

"Welcome once again to another term. I have a few short notices before we begin our feast. As you may remember the Forbidden Forest is still off limits to students. Mr. Filch has an ever-lengthening list of banned items on the door of his office and you would do well to read it.

"And now, I have a rather important announcement." With these words the underlying buzz of whispers and snickers subsided.

"The Ministry of Magic has determined that until the escaped prisoner, Sirius Black, is recaptured, there will be stationed dementors around Hogwarts Castle to protect and guard its students and staff." Dumbledore's voice held a trace of derision, or perhaps Harry imagined it.