Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban hp-3

by J. K. Rowling

  “Whoa!” he said, pulling backward as hard as he could.

  Buckbeak slowed down and they found themselves at a stop, unless you counted the fact that they kept rising up and down several feet as the hippogriff beat his wings to remain airborne.

  “He’s there!” Harry said, spotting Sirius as they rose up beside the window. He reached out, and as Buckbeak’s wings fell, was able to tap sharply on the glass.

  Black looked up. Harry saw his jaw drop. He leapt from his chair, hurried to the window and tried to open it, but it was locked.

  “Stand back!” Hermione called to him, and she took out her wand, still gripping the back of Harry’s robes with her left hand.

  “Alohomora!”

  The window sprang open.

  “How—how—?” said Black weakly, staring at the hippogriff.

  “Get on—there’s not much time,” said Harry, gripping Buckbeak firmly on either side of his sleek neck to hold him steady. “You’ve got to get out of here—the Dementors are coming—Macnair’s gone to get them.”

  Black placed a hand on either side of the window frame and heaved his head and shoulders out of it. It was very lucky he was so thin. In seconds, he had managed to fling one leg over Buckbeak’s back and pull himself onto the hippogriff behind Hermione.

  “Okay, Buckbeak, up!” said Harry, shaking the rope. “Up to the tower—come on.”

  The hippogriff gave one sweep of its mighty wings and they were soaring upward again, high as the top of the West Tower. Buckbeak landed with a clatter on the battlements, and Harry and Hermione slid off him at once.

  “Sirius, you’d better go, quick,” Harry panted. “They’ll reach Flitwick’s office any moment, they’ll find out you’re gone.”

  Buckbeak pawed the ground, tossing his sharp head.

  “What happened to the other boy? Ron?” croaked Sirius.

  “He’s going to be okay. He’s still out of it, but Madam Pomfrey says she’ll be able to make him better. Quick—go—”

  But Black was still staring down at Harry.

  “How can I ever thank—”

  “GO!” Harry and Hermione shouted together.

  Black wheeled Buckbeak around, facing the open sky.

  “We’ll see each other again,” he said. “You are—truly your father’s son, Harry . . .”

  He squeezed Buckbeak’s sides with his heels. Harry and Hermione jumped back as the enormous wings rose once more . . . The hippogriff took off into the air . . . He and his rider became smaller and smaller as Harry gazed after them . . . then a cloud drifted across the moon . . . They were gone.

  22. OWL POST AGAIN

  “Harry!”

  Hermione was tugging at his sleeve, staring at her watch. “We’ve got exactly ten minutes to get back down to the hospital wing without anybody seeing us—before Dumbledore locks the door—”

  “Okay,” said Harry, wrenching his gaze from the sky, “let’s go . . .”

  They slipped through the doorway behind them and down a tightly spiraling stone staircase. As they reached the bottom of it, they heard voices. They flattened themselves against the wall and listened. It sounded like Fudge and Snape. They were walking quickly along the corridor at the foot of the staircase.

  “. . . only hope Dumbledore’s not going to make difficulties,” Snape was saying. “The Kiss will be performed immediately?”

  “As soon as Macnair returns with the Dementors. This whole Black affair has been highly embarrassing. I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to informing the Daily Prophet that we’ve got him at last . . . I daresay they’ll want to interview you, Snape . . . and once young Harry’s back in his right mind, I expect he’ll want to tell the Prophet exactly how you saved him . . .”

  Harry clenched his teeth. He caught a glimpse of Snape’s smirk as he and Fudge passed Harry and Hermione’s hiding place. Their footsteps died away. Harry and Hermione waited a few moments to make sure they’d really gone, then started to run in the opposite direction. Down one staircase, then another, along a new corridor—then they heard a cackling ahead.

  “Peeves!” Harry muttered, grabbing Hermione’s wrist. “In here!”

  They tore into a deserted classroom to their left just in time. Peeves seemed to be bouncing along the corridor in boisterous good spirits, laughing his head off.

  “Oh, he’s horrible,” whispered Hermione, her ear to the door. “I bet he’s all excited because the Dementors are going to finish off Sirius . . .” She checked her watch. “Three minutes, Harry!”

  They waited until Peeves’s gloating voice had faded into the distance, then slid back out of the room and broke into a run again.

  “Hermione—what’ll happen—if we don’t get back inside before Dumbledore locks the door?” Harry panted.

  “I don’t want to think about it!” Hermione moaned, checking her watch again. “One minute!”

  They had reached the end of the corridor with the hospital wing entrance.

  “Okay—I can hear Dumbledore,” said Hermione tensely. “Come on, Harry!”

  They crept along the corridor. The door opened. Dumbledore’s back appeared.

  “I am going to lock you in,” they heard him saying. “it is five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do It. Good luck.”

  Dumbledore backed out of the room, closed the door, and took out his wand to magically lock it. Panicking, Harry and Hermione ran forward. Dumbledore looked up, and a wide smile appeared under the long silver mustache. “Well?” he said quietly.

  “We did it!” said Harry breathlessly. “Sirius has gone, on Buckbeak . . .”

  Dumbledore beamed at them.

  “Well done. I think—” He listened intently for any sound within the hospital wing. “Yes, I think you’ve gone too—get inside—I’ll lock you in—”

  Harry and Hermione slipped back inside the dormitory. It was empty except for Ron, who was still lying motionless in the end bed. As the lock clicked behind them, Harry and Hermione crept back to their own beds, Hermione tucking the Time-Turner back under her robes. A moment later, Madam Pomfrey came striding back out of her office.

  “Did I hear the headmaster leaving? Am I allowed to look after my patients now?”

  She was in a very bad mood. Harry and Hermione thought it best to accept their chocolate quietly. Madam Pomfrey stood over them, making sure they ate it. But Harry could hardly swallow. He and Hermione were waiting, listening, their nerves jangling . . . And then, as they both took a fourth piece of chocolate from Madam Pomfrey, they heard a distant roar of fury echoing from somewhere above them . . .

  “What was that?” said Madam Pomfrey in alarm.

  Now they could hear angry voices, growing louder and louder. Madam Pomfrey was staring at the door.

  “Really—they’ll wake everybody up! What do they think they’re doing?”

  Harry was trying to hear what the voices were saying. They were drawing nearer—

  “He must have Disapparated, Severus. We should have left somebody in the room with him. When this gets out—”

  “HE DIDN’T DISAPPARATE!” Snape roared, now very close at hand. “YOU CAN’T APPARATE OR DISAPPARATE INSIDE THIS CASTLE! THIS—HAS—SOMETHING—TO—DO—WITH—POTTER!”

  “Severus—be reasonable—Harry has been locked up—”

  BAM.

  The door of the hospital wing burst open.

  Fudge, Snape, and Dumbledore came striding into the ward. Dumbledore alone looked calm. Indeed, he looked as though he was quite enjoying himself. Fudge appeared angry. But Snape was beside himself.

  “OUT WITH IT, POTTER!” he bellowed. “WHAT DID YOU DO?”

  “Professor Snape!” shrieked Madam Pomfrey. “Control yourself!”

  “See here, Snape, be reasonable,” said Fudge. “This door’s been locked, we just saw—”

  “THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!” Snape howled, pointing at Harry and Hermione. His face was twisted; spit was flying from his mou
th.

  “Calm down, man!” Fudge barked. “You’re talking nonsense!”

  “YOU DON’T KNOW POTTER!” shrieked Snape. “HE DID IT, I KNOW HE DID IT—”

  “That will do, Severus,” said Dumbledore quietly. “Think about what you are saying. This door has been locked since I left the ward ten minutes ago. Madam Pomfrey, have these students left their beds?”

  “Of course not!” said Madam Pomfrey, bristling. “I would have heard them!”

  “Well, there you have it, Severus,” said Dumbledore calmly. “Unless you are suggesting that Harry and Hermione are able to be in two places at once, I’m afraid I don’t see any point in troubling them further.”

  Snape stood there, seething, staring from Fudge, who looked thoroughly shocked at his behavior, to Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling behind his glasses. Snape whirled about, robes swishing behind him, and stormed out of the ward.

  “Fellow seems quite unbalanced,” said Fudge, staring after him. “I’d watch out for him if I were you, Dumbledore.”

  “Oh, he’s not unbalanced,” said Dumbledore quietly. “He’s just suffered a severe disappointment.”

  “He’s not the only one!” puffed Fudge. “The Daily Prophet’s going to have a field day! We had Black cornered and he slipped through our fingers yet again! All it needs now is for the story of that hippogriff’s escape to get out, and I’ll be a laughingstock! Well . . . I’d better go and notify the Ministry . . .”

  “And the Dementors?” said Dumbledore. “They’ll be removed from the school, I trust?”

  “Oh yes, they’ll have to go,” said Fudge, running his fingers distractedly through his hair. “Never dreamed they’d attempt to administer the Kiss on an innocent boy . . . Completely out of control . . . no, I’ll have them packed off back to Azkaban tonight . . . Perhaps we should think about dragons at the school entrance . . .”

  “Hagrid would like that,” said Dumbledore, smiling at Harry and Hermione. As he and Fudge left the dormitory, Madam Pomfrey hurried to the door and locked it again. Muttering angrily to herself, she headed back to her office.

  There was a low moan from the other end of the ward. Ron had woken up. They could see him sitting up, rubbing his head, looking around.

  “What—what happened?” he groaned. “Harry? Why are we in here? Where’s Sirius? Where’s Lupin? What’s going on?” Harry and Hermione looked at each other.

  “You explain,” said Harry, helping himself to some more chocolate.

  * * *

  When Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the hospital wing at noon the next day, it was to find an almost deserted castle. The sweltering, heat and the end of the exams meant that everyone was taking full advantage of another Hogsmeade visit. Neither Ron nor Hermione felt like going, however, so they and Harry wandered onto the grounds, still talking about the extraordinary events of the previous night and wondering where Sirius and Buckbeak were now. Sitting near the lake, watching the giant squid waving its tentacles lazily above the water, Harry lost the thread of the conversation as he looked across to the opposite bank. The stag had galloped toward him from there just last night . . .

  A shadow fell across them and they looked up to see a very bleary eyed Hagrid, mopping his sweaty face with one of his tablecloth sized handkerchiefs and beaming down at them.

  “Know I shouldn’ feel happy, after wha’ happened las’ night,” he said. “I mean, Black escapin’ again, an, everythin’—but guess what?”

  “What?” they said, pretending to look curious.

  “Beaky! He escaped! He’s free! Bin celebratin’ all night!”

  “That’s wonderful!” said Hermione, giving Ron a reproving look because he looked as though he was close to laughing.

  “Yeah . . . can’t’ve tied him up properly,” said Hagrid, gazing happily out over the grounds. “I was worried this mornin’, mind . . . thought he mighta met Professor Lupin on the grounds, but Lupin says he never ate anythin’ las’ night . . .”

  “What?” said Harry quickly.

  “Blimey, haven’ yeh heard?” said Hagrid, his smile fading a little. He lowered his voice, even though there was nobody in sight. “Er—Snape told all the Slytherins this mornin’ . . . Thought everyone’d know by now . . . Professor Lupin’s a werewolf, see. An’ he was loose on the grounds las’ night . . . He’s packin’ now, o’ course.”

  “He’s packing?” said Harry, alarmed. “Why?”

  “Leavin’, isn’ he?” said Hagrid, looking surprised that Harry had to ask. “Resigned firs’ thing this mornin’. Says he can’t risk it happenin’ again.”

  Harry scrambled to his feet.

  “I’m going to see him,” he said to Ron and Hermione.

  “But if he’s resigned—”

  “—doesn’t sound like there’s anything we can do—”

  “I don’t care. I still want to see him. I’ll meet you back here.”

  Lupin’s office door was open. He had already packed most of his things. The Grindylow’s empty tank stood next to his battered old suitcase, which was open and nearly full. Lupin was bending over something on his desk and looked up only when Harry knocked on the door.

  “I saw you coming,” said Lupin, smiling. He pointed to the parchment he had been poring over. It was the Marauder’s Map.

  “I just saw Hagrid,” said Harry. “And he said you’d resigned. It’s not true, is it?”

  “I’m afraid it is,” said Lupin. He started opening his desk drawers and taking out the contents.

  “Why?” said Harry. “The Ministry of Magic don’t think you were helping Sirius, do they?”

  Lupin crossed to the door and closed it behind Harry.

  “No. Professor Dumbledore managed to convince Fudge that I was trying to save your lives.” He sighed. “That was the final straw for Severus. I think the loss of the Order of Merlin hit him hard. So he—er—accidentally let slip that I am a werewolf this morning at breakfast.”

  “You’re not leaving just because of that!” said Harry.

  Lupin smiled wryly.

  “This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents . . . They will not want a werewolf teaching their children, Harry. And after last night, I see their point. I could have bitten any of you . . . That must never happen again.”

  “You’re the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we’ve ever had!” said Harry. “Don’t go!”

  Lupin shook his head and didn’t speak. He carried on emptying his drawers. Then, while Harry was trying to think of a good argument to make him stay, Lupin said, “From what the headmaster told me this morning, you saved a lot of lives last night, Harry. If I’m proud of anything I’ve done this year, it’s how much you’ve learned . . . Tell me about your Patronus.”

  “How d’you know about that?” said Harry, distracted.

  “What else could have driven the Dementors back?”

  Harry told Lupin what had happened. When he’d finished, Lupin was smiling again.

  “Yes, your father was always a stag when he transformed,” he said. “You guessed right . . . that’s why we called him Prongs.”

  Lupin threw his last few books into his case, closed the desk drawers, and turned to look at Harry.

  “Here—I brought this from the Shrieking Shack last night,” he said, handing Harry back the Invisibility Cloak. “And . . .” He hesitated, then held out the Marauder’s Map too. “I am no longer your teacher, so I don’t feel guilty about giving you back this as well. It’s no use to me, and I daresay you, Ron, and Hermione will find uses for it.”

  Harry took the map and grinned.

  “You told me Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs would’ve wanted to lure me out of school . . . you said they’d have thought it was funny.”

  “And so we would have,” said Lupin, now reaching down to close his case. “I have no hesitation in saying that James would have been highly disappointed if his son had never found any of the secret passages out of the castle.”
r />   There was a knock on the door. Harry hastily stuffed the Marauder’s Map and the Invisibility Cloak into his pocket.

  It was Professor Dumbledore. He didn’t look surprised to see Harry there.

  “Your carriage is at the gates, Remus,” he said.

  “Thank you, Headmaster.”

  Lupin picked up his old suitcase and the empty Grindylow tank.

  “Well—good bye, Harry,” he said, smiling. “It has been a real pleasure teaching you. I feel sure we’ll meet again sometime. Headmaster, there is no need to see me to the gates, I can manage . . .”

  Harry had the impression that Lupin wanted to leave as quickly as possible.

  “Good bye, then, Remus,” said Dumbledore soberly.

  Lupin shifted the Grindylow tank slightly so that he and Dumbledore could shake hands. Then, with a final nod to Harry and a swift smile, Lupin left the office.

  Harry sat down in his vacated chair, staring glumly at the floor. He heard the door close and looked up. Dumbledore was still there.

  “Why so miserable, Harry?” he said quietly. “You should be very proud of yourself after last night.”

  “It didn’t make any difference,” said Harry bitterly. “Pettigrew got away.”

  “Didn’t make any difference?” said Dumbledore quietly, “It made all the difference in the world, Harry. You helped uncover the truth. You saved an innocent man from a terrible fate.”

  Terrible. Something stirred in Harry’s memory. Greater and more terrible than ever before . . . Professor Trelawney’s prediction!

  “Professor Dumbledore—yesterday, when I was having my Divination exam, Professor Trelawney went very—very strange.”

  “Indeed?” said Dumbledore. “Er—stranger than usual, you mean?”

  “Yes . . . her voice went all deep and her eyes rolled and she said . . . she said Voldemort’s servant was going to set out to return to him before midnight . . . She said the servant would help him come back to power.” Harry stared up at Dumbledore. “And then she sort of became normal again, and she couldn’t remember anything she’d said. Was it—was she making a real prediction?”