THE MOST FAITHFUL

15. SNAKES

The next morning, breakfast was almost completely ignored, as many students eagerly read the first page of the Daily Prophet. Ten black and white photographs stood out on the page, nine wizards and a witch. Some merely wore a mocking expression, others drummed their fingers on the frames of their photos, insolently. Under each image were the name of the person and the crime for which she was imprisoned in Azkaban. Antonin Dolohov, the caption said beneath a long, twisted, pale-faced magician who smiled contemptuously. Convicted of the brutal murder of Gideon and Fabian Prewett. Augustus Rookwood, recited that of a pockmarked man with greasy hair, leaning on the edge of his photo with a bored look, convicted of revealing Ministry of Magic secrets to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Her only witch present had long, unkempt dark hair, heavy lids, and a smile of arrogant contempt hovered over her thin lips. She bore the traces of great beauty, but something, perhaps Azkaban, must have stolen most of it. Bellatrix Lestrange, convicted of torturing the permanent invalidity of Frank and Alice Patiock. The title above the photos read:

MASS ESCAPE FROM AZKABAN THE MINISTRY FEARS THAT HE IS BLACK THE 'REFERENCE POINT' FOR FORMER DEATH EATER

"I can't believe it" Harry snapped. "Does Fudge blame the escape on Sirius?"

"What other possibilities does he have?" Hermione retorted bitterly. "I doubt he could say 'Hey, sorry everyone, Dumbledore warned me it could happen, the Azkaban guards joined Lord Voldemort'... stop whining, Ron ... 'and now Voldemort's worst accomplices They escaped. 'I mean, he's spent the last six months telling everyone that you and Dumbledore are two liars, aren't you? " She glanced at the teachers' table.

Dumbledore and McGonagall were deep in conversation, and they looked very serious. Byron's mouth moved quickly as he stared intently at his plate, Snape beside him seemed to respond in the same way. Meanwhile, at the other end of the table, Professor Umbridge was attacking a bowl of porridge. She swallowed her mouthfuls annoyed, and from time to time she glanced maliciously at Dumbledore. The murmurs around Harry had increased in those days, yet he thought he recognized a slight change in tone. They seemed less hostile, he had heard some boys talk about escapism with some fear, others were starting to have less faith in the Ministry. All the members of the ES worked even harder since they knew there were ten other Death Eaters on the loose, but in none was the improvement as striking as in Neville. The escape of his parents' attackers had caused an incredible transformation in him. On the other hand he hadn't been able to talk to Byron even once since he returned, Snape seemed to be watching them, even in class he wasn't allowed to talk, Snape would catch him every time or give Byron useless tasks to get him away. Occlumency lessons did not improve, on the contrary, Harry felt he was getting worse with each lesson. His scar never stopped burning, and he often felt a sudden sense of annoyance or cheer that had no connection with what was happening to him, accompanied by a particularly painful twinge in his forehead.

" How's the hand, Potter? " Snape asked unexpectedly as Harry got to his feet from yet another mental intrusion.

"Er.. good" he replied uncertainly, Snape took a few steps towards him and grabbed his hand sharply. He narrowed his eyes to make out the words etched into his skin. "It's just a scratch" he hastened to say, trying to get out of the grip.

"It's not just a scratch" Snape's voice had grown even harder. "A scar will remain."

He let go of his hand abruptly and went to look for something on one of the lower shelves. When she returned to tower over him she handed him a small glass bottle containing a thick bright yellow liquid. "It is the Murtlap Essence , it relieves the pains caused by abrasions and cuts, it will help the skin to heal" he explained dryly.