Azlyn, Nyx, and the Prisoner of Azkaban

The Firebolts

We watched Harry nervously all through dinner, not daring to talk about what we’d overheard, because Percy was sitting close by us. When we went upstairs to the crowded common room, it was to find Fred and George had set off half a dozen Dungbombs in a fit of end-of-term high spirits.

Harry didn’t show up until the next evening. He looked like death. “Harry, you — you look terrible.” I said cautiously. He didn’t reply to that. “Where is everyone?” he asked instead. “Gone! It’s the first day of the holidays, remember?” said Ron, watching Harry closely. “It’s nearly lunchtime; I was going to come and wake you up in a minute.”

Harry slumped into a chair next to the fire. Snow was still falling outside the windows. Crookshanks was spread out in front of the fire like a large, ginger rug. “You really don’t look well, you know,” Hermione said, peering anxiously into his face. “I’m fine,” said Harry. “Harry, listen,” said Az, exchanging a look with Ron, Hermione, and I, “you must be really upset about what we heard yesterday. But the thing is, you mustn’t go doing anything stupid.”

“Like what?” said Harry. “Like trying to go after Black,” said Ron sharply. I could tell they had rehearsed this conversation while Harry had been asleep. He didn’t say anything. “You won’t, will you, Harry?” I asked nervously. “Because Black’s not worth dying for,” said Ron. And because that would ruin the plan, I added silently. Harry looked at us angrily.

“D’you know what I see and hear every time a Dementor gets too near me?” We shook our heads, probably looking apprehensive. “I can hear my mum screaming and pleading with Voldemort. And if you’d heard your mum screaming like that, just about to be killed, you wouldn’t forget it in a hurry. And if you found out someone who was supposed to be a friend of hers betrayed her and sent Voldemort after her —”

“There’s nothing you can do!” said Hermione, looking stricken. “The Dementors will catch Black and he’ll go back to Azkaban and — and serve him right!” “You heard what Fudge said. Black isn’t affected by Azkaban like normal people are. It’s not a punishment for him like it is for the others.” “So what are you saying?” said Ron, looking very tense. “You want to — to kill Black or something?”

“Don’t be silly,” said Az in a panicky voice. “Harry doesn’t want to kill anyone, do you, Harry?” Again, Harry didn’t answer. I began to worry. This could go seriously wrong. “Malfoy knows,” he said abruptly. “Remember what he said to me in Potions? ‘If it was me, I’d hunt him down myself... I’d want revenge.’” Malfoy just has to come back into my life, doesn’t he… Such a ball of joy, that boy.

“You’re going to take Malfoy’s advice instead of ours?” said Ron furiously. “Listen... you know what Pettigrew’s mother got back after Black had finished with him? Dad told me — the Order of Merlin, First Class, and Pettigrew’s finger in a box. That was the biggest bit of him they could find. Black’s a madman, Harry, and he’s dangerous —”

“Malfoy’s dad must have told him,” said Harry, ignoring Ron. “He was right in Voldemort’s inner circle —” “Say You-Know-Who, will you?” interjected Ron angrily. “— so obviously, the Malfoys knew Black was working for Voldemort —” “— and Malfoy’d love to see you blown into about a million pieces, like Pettigrew!” I snarled, “Get a grip. Malfoy’s just hoping you’ll get yourself killed.”

“Harry, please,” said Hermione, her eyes now shining with tears, “Please be sensible. Black did a terrible, terrible thing, but d-don’t put yourself in danger; it’s what Black wants... Oh, Harry, you’d be playing right into Black’s hands if you went looking for him. Your mum and dad wouldn’t want you to get hurt, would they? They’d never want you to go looking for Black!”