Chapter 22 After the burial

Chapter 22 After the burial

Patches of bright blue sky were beginning to appear over the castle turrets, but these signs of approaching summer did not lift Harry's mood. He had been thwarted, both

in his attempts to find out what Malfoy was doing, and in his efforts to start a conversation with Slughorn that might lead, somehow, to Slughorn handing over the

memory he had apparently suppressed for decades.

“For the last time, just forget about Malfoy,” Hermione told Harry firmly.

They were sitting with Ron in a sunny corner of the courtyard after lunch. Hermione and Ron were both clutching a Ministry of Magic leaflet: Common Apparition Mistakes

and How to Avoid Them, for they were taking their tests that very afternoon, but by and large the leaflets had not proved soothing to the nerves. Ron gave a start and

tried to hide behind Hermione as a girl came around the corner.

“It isn't Lavender,” said Hermione wearily.

“Oh, good,” said Ron, relaxing.

“Harry Potter?” said the girl. “I was asked to give you this.”

“Thanks...”

Harry's heart sank as he took the small scroll of parchment. Once the girl was out of earshot he said, “Dumbledore said we wouldn't be having any more lessons until I

got the memory!”

“Maybe he wants to check on how you're doing?” suggested Hermione, as Harry unrolled the parchment; but rather than finding Dumbledore's long, narrow, slanted writing

he saw an untidy sprawl, very difficult to read due to the presence of large blotches on the parchment where the ink had run.

Dear Harry, Ron and Hermione,

Aragog died last night. Harry and Ron, you met him and you know how special he was. Hermione, I know you'd have liked him. It would mean a lot to me if you'd nip down

for the burial later this evening. I'm planning on doing it round dusk, that was his favorite time of day. I know you're not supposed to be out that late, but you can

use the cloak. Wouldn't ask, but I can't face it alone.

Hagrid

“Look at this,” said Harry, handing the note to Hermione.

“Oh, for heaven's sake,” she said, scanning it quickly and passing it to Ron, who read it through looking increasingly incredulous.

“He's mental” he said furiously. “That thing told its mates to eat Harry and me! Told them to help themselves! And now Hagrid expects us to go down there and cry

over its horrible hairy body!”

“It's not just that,” said Hermione. “He's asking us to leave the castle at night and he knows security's a million times tighter and how much trouble we'd be in if

we were caught.”

“We've been down to see him by night before,” said Harry.

“Yes, but for something like this?” said Hermione. “We've risked a lot to help Hagrid out, but after all—Aragog's dead. If it were a question of saving him —”

“— I'd want to go even less,” said Ron firmly. “You didn't meet him, Hermione. Believe me, being dead will have improved him a lot.”

Harry took the note back and stared down at all the inky blotches all over it. Tears had clearly fallen thick and fast upon the parchment...

“Harry, you can't be thinking of going,” said Hermione. “It's such a pointless thing to get detention for.”

Harry sighed.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “I s'pose Hagrid'll have to bury Aragog without us.”

“Yes, he will,” said Hermione, looking relieved. “Look, Potions will be almost empty this afternoon, with us all off doing our tests... try and soften Slughorn up a

bit then!”

“Fifty-seventh time lucky, you think?” said Harry bitterly.

“Lucky,” said Ron suddenly. “Harry, that's it—get lucky!”

“What d'you mean?”

“Use your lucky potion!”