What looked like a stone gargoyle torn from the roof and roaring his displeasure.

“Let’s hope he steps on some of them!” said Ron as more screams echoed from

Close by.

“As long as it’s not any of our lot!” said a voice: Harry turned and saw Ginny and

Tonks, both with their wands drawn at the next window, which was missing several

Panes. Even as he watched, Ginny sent a well-aimed jinx into a crowd of fighters below.

“Good girl!” roared a figure running through the dust toward them, and Harry saw

Aberforth again, his gray hair flying as he led a small group of students past. “They look

like they might be breaching the north battlements, they’ve brought giants of their own.”

“Have you seen Remus?” Tonks called after him.

“He was dueling Dolohov,” shouted Aberforth, “haven’t seen him since!”

“Tonks,” said Ginny, “Tonks, I’m sure he’s okay –“

But Tonks had run off into the dust after Aberforth.

Ginny turned, helpless, to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

“They’ll be all right,” said Harry, though he knew they were empty words.

“Ginny, we’ll be back in a moment, just keep out of the way, keep safe – come on!” he

Said to Ron and Hermione, and they ran back to the stretch of wall beyond which the

Room of Requirement was waiting to do the bidding of the next entrant.

I need the place where everything is hidden. Harry begged of it inside his head,

And the door materialized on their third run past.

The furor of the battle died the moment they crossed the threshold and closed the

door behind them: All was silent. They were in a place the size of a cathedral with the

Appearance of a city, its towering walls built of objects hidden by thousands of long-gone

Students.

“And he never realized anyone could get in?” said Ron, his voice echoing in the

Silence.

“He thought he was the only one,” said Harry. “Too bad for him I’ve had to hide

stuff in my time . . . this way,” he added. “I think it’s down here. . . .”

They sped off up adjacent aisles; Harry could hear the others’ footsteps echoing

Through the towering piles of junk, of bottles, hats, crates, chairs, books, weapons,

Broomsticks, bats. . . .

“Somewhere near here,” Harry muttered to himself. “Somewhere . . .

somewhere . . .”

Deeper and deeper into the labyrinth he went, looking for objects he recognized

From his one previous trip into the room. His breath was loud in his ears, and then his

Very soul seemed to shiver. There it was, right ahead, the blistered old cupboard in which

He had hidden his old Potions book, and on top of it, the pockmarked stone warlock

Wearing a dusty old wig and what looked like an ancient discolored tiara.

He had already stretched out his hand, though he remained few feet away, when a

voice behind him said, “Hold it, Potter.”

He skidded to a halt and turned around. Crabbe and Goyle were standing behind

Him, shoulder to shoulder, wands pointing right at Harry. Through the small space

Between their jeering faces he saw Draco Malfoy.

“That’s my wand you’re holding, Potter,” said Malfoy, pointing his own through

The gap between Crabbe and Goyle.

“Not anymore,” panted Harry, tightening his grip on the hawthorn wand.

“Winners, keepers, Malfoy. Who’s lent you theirs?”

“My mother,” said Draco.

Harry laughed, though there was nothing very humorous about the situation. He

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 556