The Half-Blood Prince

by J. K. Rowling

  ‘There have been another couple of Dementor attacks,’ he announced, as Mrs Weasley passed him a large slice of birthday cake. ‘And they’ve found Igor Karkaroff’s body in a shack up north. The Dark Mark had been set over it – well, frankly, I’m surprised he stayed alive for even a year after deserting the Death Eaters; Sirius’s brother Regulus only managed a few days as far as I can remember.’

  ‘Yes, well,’ said Mrs Weasley, frowning, ‘perhaps we should talk about something diff—’

  ‘Did you hear about Florean Fortescue, Remus?’ asked Bill, who was being plied with wine by Fleur. ‘The man who ran –’

  ‘– the ice-cream place in Diagon Alley?’ Harry interrupted, with an unpleasant, hollow sensation in the pit of his stomach. ‘He used to give me free ice creams. What’s happened to him?’

  ‘Dragged off, by the look of his place.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Ron, while Mrs Weasley pointedly glared at Bill.

  ‘Who knows? He must’ve upset them somehow. He was a good man, Florean.’

  ‘Talking of Diagon Alley,’ said Mr Weasley, ‘looks like Ollivander’s gone too.’

  ‘The wand-maker?’ said Ginny, looking startled.

  ‘That’s the one. Shop’s empty. No sign of a struggle. No one knows whether he left voluntarily or was kidnapped.’

  ‘But wands – what’ll people do for wands?’

  ‘They’ll make do with other makers,’ said Lupin. ‘But Ollivander was the best, and if the other side have got him it’s not so good for us.’

  The day after this rather gloomy birthday tea, their letters and book lists arrived from Hogwarts. Harry’s included a surprise: he had been made Quidditch Captain.

  ‘That gives you equal status with prefects!’ cried Hermione happily. ‘You can use our special bathroom now, and everything!’

  ‘Wow, I remember when Charlie wore one of these,’ said Ron, examining the badge with glee. ‘Harry, this is so cool, you’re my captain – if you let me back on the team, I suppose, ha ha …’

  ‘Well, I don’t suppose we can put off a trip to Diagon Alley much longer now you’ve got these,’ sighed Mrs Weasley, looking down Ron’s book list. ‘We’ll go on Saturday as long as your father doesn’t have to go into work again. I’m not going there without him.’

  ‘Mum, d’you honestly think You-Know-Who’s going to be hiding behind a bookshelf in Flourish and Blotts?’ sniggered Ron.

  ‘Fortescue and Ollivander went on holiday, did they?’ said Mrs Weasley, firing up at once. ‘If you think security’s a laughing matter you can stay behind and I’ll get your things myself –’

  ‘No, I wanna come, I want to see Fred and George’s shop!’ said Ron hastily.

  ‘Then you just buck up your ideas, young man, before I decide you’re too immature to come with us!’ said Mrs Weasley angrily, snatching up her clock, all nine hands of which were still pointing at mortal peril, and balancing it on top of a pile of just-laundered towels. ‘And that goes for returning to Hogwarts, as well!’

  Ron turned to stare incredulously at Harry as his mother hoisted the laundry basket and the teetering clock into her arms and stormed out of the room.

  ‘Blimey … you can’t even make a joke round here any more …’

  But Ron was careful not to be flippant about Voldemort over the next few days. Saturday dawned without any more outbursts from Mrs Weasley, though she seemed very tense at breakfast. Bill, who would be staying at home with Fleur (much to Hermione and Ginny’s pleasure), passed a full money-bag across the table to Harry.

  ‘Where’s mine?’ demanded Ron at once, his eyes wide.

  ‘That’s already Harry’s, idiot,’ said Bill. ‘I got it out of your vault for you, Harry, because it’s taking about five hours for the public to get to their gold at the moment, the goblins have tightened security so much. Two days ago Arkie Philpott had a Probity Probe stuck up his … well, trust me, this way’s easier.’

  ‘Thanks, Bill,’ said Harry, pocketing his gold.

  ‘’E is always so thoughtful,’ purred Fleur adoringly, stroking Bill’s nose. Ginny mimed vomiting into her cereal behind Fleur. Harry choked over his cornflakes and Ron thumped him on the back.

  It was an overcast, murky day. One of the special Ministry of Magic cars, in which Harry had ridden once before, was awaiting them in the front yard when they emerged from the house pulling on their cloaks.

  ‘It’s good Dad can get us these again,’ said Ron appreciatively, stretching luxuriously as the car moved smoothly away from The Burrow, Bill and Fleur waving from the kitchen window. He, Harry, Hermione and Ginny were all sitting in roomy comfort in the wide back seat.

  ‘Don’t get used to it, it’s only because of Harry,’ said Mr Weasley over his shoulder. He and Mrs Weasley were in front with the Ministry driver; the front passenger seat had obligingly stretched into what resembled a two-seater sofa. ‘He’s been given top-grade security status. And we’ll be joining up with additional security at the Leaky Cauldron, too.’

  Harry said nothing; he did not much fancy doing his shopping while surrounded by a battalion of Aurors. He had stowed his Invisibility Cloak in his backpack and felt that, if that was good enough for Dumbledore, it ought to be good enough for the Ministry, though now he came to think of it, he was not sure the Ministry knew about his Cloak.

  ‘Here you are, then,’ said the driver a surprisingly short while later, speaking for the first time as he slowed in Charing Cross Road and stopped outside the Leaky Cauldron. ‘I’m to wait for you, any idea how long you’ll be?’

  ‘A couple of hours, I expect,’ said Mr Weasley. ‘Ah, good, he’s here!’

  Harry imitated Mr Weasley and peered through the window; his heart leapt. There were no Aurors waiting outside the inn, but instead the gigantic, black-bearded form of Rubeus Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, wearing a long beaverskin coat, beaming at the sight of Harry’s face and oblivious to the startled stares of passing Muggles.

  ‘Harry!’ he boomed, sweeping Harry into a bone-crushing hug the moment Harry had stepped out of the car. ‘Buckbeak – Witherwings, I mean – yeh should see him, Harry, he’s so happy ter be back in the open air –’

  ‘Glad he’s pleased,’ said Harry, grinning as he massaged his ribs. ‘We didn’t know “security” meant you!’

  ‘I know, jus’ like old times, innit? See, the Ministry wanted ter send a bunch o’ Aurors, but Dumbledore said I’d do,’ said Hagrid proudly, throwing out his chest and tucking his thumbs into his pockets. ‘Let’s get goin’, then – after yeh, Molly, Arthur –’

  The Leaky Cauldron was, for the first time in Harry’s memory, completely empty. Only Tom the landlord, wizened and toothless, remained of the old crowd. He looked up hopefully as they entered, but before he could speak, Hagrid said importantly, ‘Jus’ passin’ through today, Tom, sure yeh understand. Hogwarts business, yeh know.’

  Tom nodded gloomily and returned to wiping glasses; Harry, Hermione, Hagrid and the Weasleys walked through the bar and out into the chilly little courtyard at the back where the dustbins stood. Hagrid raised his pink umbrella and rapped a certain brick in the wall, which opened at once to form an archway on to a winding cobbled street. They stepped through the entrance and paused, looking around.

  Diagon Alley had changed. The colourful, glittering window displays of spellbooks, potion ingredients and cauldrons were lost to view, hidden behind the large Ministry of Magic posters that had been pasted over them. Most of these sombre purple posters carried blown-up versions of the security advice on the Ministry pamphlets that had been sent out over the summer, but others bore moving black-and-white photographs of Death Eaters known to be on the loose. Bellatrix Lestrange was sneering from the front of the nearest apothecary. A few windows were boarded up, including those of Florean Fortescue’s Ice-Cream Parlour. On the other hand, a number of shabby-looking stalls had sprung up along the street. The nearest one, which had been erected outside Flourish and Blotts under a striped, s
tained awning, had a cardboard sign pinned to its front:

  Amulets: Effective Against Werewolves, Dementors and Inferi

  A seedy-looking little wizard was rattling armfuls of silver symbols on chains at passers-by.

  ‘One for your little girl, madam?’ he called at Mrs Weasley as they passed, leering at Ginny. ‘Protect her pretty neck?’

  ‘If I were on duty …’ said Mr Weasley, glaring angrily at the amulet seller.

  ‘Yes, but don’t go arresting anyone now, dear, we’re in a hurry,’ said Mrs Weasley, nervously consulting a list. ‘I think we’d better do Madam Malkin’s first, Hermione wants new dress robes and Ron’s showing much too much ankle in his school robes, and you must need new ones too, Harry, you’ve grown so much – come on, everyone –’

  ‘Molly, it doesn’t make sense for all of us to go to Madam Malkin’s,’ said Mr Weasley. ‘Why don’t those three go with Hagrid, and we can go to Flourish and Blotts and get everyone’s school books?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Mrs Weasley anxiously, clearly torn between a desire to finish the shopping quickly and the wish to stick together in a pack. ‘Hagrid, do you think –?’

  ‘Don’ fret, they’ll be fine with me, Molly,’ said Hagrid soothingly, waving an airy hand the size of a dustbin lid. Mrs Weasley did not look entirely convinced, but allowed the separation, scurrying off towards Flourish and Blotts with her husband and Ginny while Harry, Ron, Hermione and Hagrid set off for Madam Malkin’s.

  Harry noticed that many of the people who passed them had the same harried, anxious look as Mrs Weasley, and that nobody was stopping to talk any more; the shoppers stayed together in their own tightly knit groups, moving intently about their business. Nobody seemed to be shopping alone.

  ‘Migh’ be a bit of a squeeze in there with all o’ us,’ said Hagrid, stopping outside Madam Malkin’s and bending down to peer through the window. ‘I’ll stand guard outside, all righ’?’

  So Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the little shop together. It appeared, at first glance, to be empty, but no sooner had the door swung shut behind them than they heard a familiar voice issuing from behind a rack of dress robes in spangled green and blue.

  ‘… not a child, in case you haven’t noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone.’

  There was a clucking noise and a voice Harry recognised as that of Madam Malkin said, ‘Now, dear, your mother’s quite right, none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own any more, it’s nothing to do with being a child –’

  ‘Watch where you’re sticking that pin, will you!’

  A teenage boy with a pale, pointed face and white-blond hair appeared from behind the rack wearing a handsome set of dark green robes that glittered with pins around the hem and the edges of the sleeves. He strode to the mirror and examined himself; it was a few moments before he noticed Harry, Ron and Hermione reflected over his shoulder. His light grey eyes narrowed.

  ‘If you’re wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in,’ said Draco Malfoy.

  ‘I don’t think there’s any need for language like that!’ said Madam Malkin, scurrying out from behind the clothes rack holding a tape measure and a wand. ‘And I don’t want wands drawn in my shop, either!’ she added hastily, for a glance towards the door had shown her Harry and Ron both standing there with their wands out and pointing at Malfoy.

  Hermione, who was standing slightly behind them, whispered, ‘No, don’t, honestly, it’s not worth it …’

  ‘Yeah, like you’d dare do magic out of school,’ sneered Malfoy. ‘Who blacked your eye, Granger? I want to send them flowers.’

  ‘That’s quite enough!’ said Madam Malkin sharply, looking over her shoulder for support. ‘Madam – please –’

  Narcissa Malfoy strolled out from behind the clothes rack.

  ‘Put those away,’ she said coldly to Harry and Ron. ‘If you attack my son again, I shall ensure that it is the last thing you ever do.’

  ‘Really?’ said Harry, taking a step forwards and gazing into the smoothly arrogant face that, for all its pallor, still resembled her sister’s. He was as tall as she was now. ‘Going to get a few Death Eater pals to do us in, are you?’

  Madam Malkin squealed and clutched at her heart.

  ‘Really, you shouldn’t accuse – dangerous thing to say – wands away, please!’

  But Harry did not lower his wand. Narcissa Malfoy smiled unpleasantly.

  ‘I see that being Dumbledore’s favourite has given you a false sense of security, Harry Potter. But Dumbledore won’t always be there to protect you.’

  Harry looked mockingly all around the shop.

  ‘Wow … look at that … he’s not here now! So why not have a go? They might be able to find you a double cell in Azkaban with your loser of a husband!’

  Malfoy made an angry movement towards Harry, but stumbled over his overlong robe. Ron laughed loudly.

  ‘Don’t you dare talk to my mother like that, Potter!’ Malfoy snarled.

  ‘It’s all right, Draco,’ said Narcissa, restraining him with her thin white fingers upon his shoulder. ‘I expect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius.’

  Harry raised his wand higher.

  ‘Harry, no!’ moaned Hermione, grabbing his arm and attempting to push it down by his side. ‘Think … you mustn’t … you’ll be in such trouble …’

  Madam Malkin dithered for a moment on the spot, then seemed to decide to act as though nothing was happening in the hope that it wouldn’t. She bent towards Malfoy, who was still glaring at Harry.

  ‘I think this left sleeve could come up a little bit more, dear, let me just –’

  ‘Ouch!’ bellowed Malfoy, slapping her hand away, ‘watch where you’re putting your pins, woman! Mother – I don’t think I want these any more –’

  He pulled the robes over his head and threw them on to the floor at Madam Malkin’s feet.

  ‘You’re right, Draco,’ said Narcissa, with a contemptuous glance at Hermione, ‘now I know the kind of scum that shops here … we’ll do better at Twilfitt and Tatting’s.’

  And with that, the pair of them strode out of the shop, Malfoy taking care to bang as hard as he could into Ron on the way out.

  ‘Well, really!’ said Madam Malkin, snatching up the fallen robes and moving the tip of her wand over them like a vacuum cleaner, so that it removed the dust.

  She was distracted all through the fitting of Ron and Harry’s new robes, tried to sell Hermione wizard’s dress robes instead of witch’s, and when she finally bowed them out of the shop it was with an air of being glad to see the back of them.

  ‘Got ev’rything?’ asked Hagrid brightly when they reappeared at his side.

  ‘Just about,’ said Harry. ‘Did you see the Malfoys?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Hagrid, unconcerned. ‘Bu’ they wouldn’ dare make trouble in the middle o’ Diagon Alley, Harry, don’ worry abou’ them.’

  Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged looks, but before they could disabuse Hagrid of this comfortable notion Mr and Mrs Weasley and Ginny appeared, all clutching heavy packages of books.

  ‘Everyone all right?’ said Mrs Weasley. ‘Got your robes? Right then, we can pop in at the apothecary and Eeylops on the way to Fred and George’s – stick close, now …’

  Neither Harry nor Ron bought any ingredients at the apothecary, seeing that they were no longer studying Potions, but both bought large boxes of owl nuts for Hedwig and Pigwidgeon at Eeylops Owl Emporium. Then, with Mrs Weasley checking her watch every minute or so, they headed further along the street in search of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, the joke shop run by Fred and George.

  ‘We really haven’t got too long,’ Mrs Weasley said. ‘So we’ll just have a quick look around and then back to the car. We must be close, that’s number ninety-two … ninety-four …’

  ‘Whoa,’ said Ron, stopping in his tracks.

  Set against the dull, poster-m
uffled shop fronts around them, Fred and George’s windows hit the eye like a firework display. Casual passers-by were looking back over their shoulders at the windows, and a few rather stunned-looking people had actually come to a halt, transfixed. The left-hand window was dazzlingly full of an assortment of goods that revolved, popped, flashed, bounced and shrieked; Harry’s eyes began to water just looking at it. The right-hand window was covered with a gigantic poster, purple like those of the Ministry, but emblazoned with flashing yellow letters:

  Why Are You Worrying About You-Know-Who?

  You SHOULD Be Worrying About

  U-NO-POO –

  the Constipation Sensation That’s Gripping the Nation!

  Harry started to laugh. He heard a weak sort of moan beside him and looked round to see Mrs Weasley gazing, dumbfounded, at the poster. Her lips moved, silently mouthing the name, ‘U-No-Poo.’

  ‘They’ll be murdered in their beds!’ she whispered.

  ‘No they won’t!’ said Ron, who like Harry was laughing. ‘This is brilliant!’

  And he and Harry led the way into the shop. It was packed with customers; Harry could not get near the shelves. He stared around, looking up at the boxes piled to the ceiling: here were the Skiving Snackboxes that the twins had perfected during their last, unfinished year at Hogwarts; Harry noticed that the Nosebleed Nougat was most popular, with only one battered box left on the shelf. There were bins full of trick wands, the cheapest merely turning into rubber chickens or pairs of pants when waved; the most expensive beating the unwary user around the head and neck; boxes of quills, which came in Self-Inking, Spell-Checking and Smart-Answer varieties. A space cleared in the crowd and Harry pushed his way towards the counter, where a gaggle of delighted ten-year-olds was watching a tiny little wooden man slowly ascending the steps to a real set of gallows, both perched on a box that read: Reusable Hangman – Spell It Or He’ll Swing!

  ‘“Patented Daydream Charms …”’

  Hermione had managed to squeeze through to a large display near the counter and was reading the information on the back of a box bearing a highly coloured picture of a handsome youth and a swooning girl who were standing on the deck of a pirate ship.