A trussed-up Father Christmas.

“I have it not, I have it no more! It was, many years ago, stolen from me!”

“Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, Gregorovitch. He knows. . . . He always knows.”

The hanging man’s pupils were wide, dilated with fear, and they seemed to swell,

bigger and bigger until their blackness swallowed Harry whole –

And how Harry was hurrying along a dark corridor in stout little Gregorovitch’s

wake as he held a lantern aloft: Gregorovitch burst into the room at the end of the passage

And his lantern illuminated what looked like a workshop; wood shavings and gold

Gleamed in the swinging pool of light, and there on the window ledge sat perched, like a

giant bird, a young man with golden hair. In the split second that the lantern’s light

Illuminated him, Harry saw the delight upon his handsome face, then the intruder shot a

Stunning Spell from his wand and jumped neatly backward out of the window with a

Crow of laughter.

And Harry was hurtling back out of those wide, tunnellike pupils and

Gregorovitch’s face was stricken with terror.

“Who was the thief, Gregorovitch?” said the high cold voice.

“I do not know, I never knew, a young man – no – please – PLEASE!”

A scream that went on and on and then a burst of green light –

“Harry!”

He opened his eyes, panting, his forehead throbbing. He had passed out against

The side of the tent, had slid sideways down the canvas, and was sprawled on the ground.

He looked up at Hermione, whose bushy hair obscured the tiny patch of sky visible

Through the dark branches high above them.

“Dream,” he said, sitting up quickly and attempting to meet Hermione’s glower

with a look of innocence. “Must’ve dozed off, sorry.”

“I know it was your scar! I can tell by the look on your face! You were looking

into Vol –“

“Don’t say his name!” came Ron’s angry voice from the depths of the tent.

“Fine,” retorted Hermione, “You-Know-Who’s mind, then!”

“I didn’t mean it to happen!” Harry said. “It was a dream! Can you control what

you dream about, Hermione?”

“If you just learned to apply Occlumency –“

But Harry was not interested in being told off; he wanted to discuss what he had

Just seen.

“He’s found Gregorovitch, Hermione, and I think he’s killed him, but before he

killed him he read Gregorovitch’s mind and I saw –“

“I think I’d better take over the watch if you’re so tired you’re falling sleep,” said

Hermione coldly.

“I can finish the watch!”

“No, you’re obviously exhausted. Go and lie down.”

She dropped down in the mouth of the tent, looking stubborn. Angry, but wishing

To avoid a row, Harry ducked back inside.

Ron’s still-pale face was poking out from the lower bunk; Harry climbed into the

One above him, lay down, and looked up at the dark canvas ceiling. After several

Moments, Ron spoke in a voice so low that it would not carry to Hermione, huddle in the

Entrance.

“What’s You-Know-Who doing?”

Harry screwed up his eyes in the effort to remember every detail, then whispered

Into the darkness.

“He found Gregorovitch. He had him tied up, he was torturing him.”

“How’s Gregorovitch supposed to make him a new wand if he’s tied up?”

“I dunno. . . . It’s weird, isn’t it?”

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 682