Brighter Than the Sun

Chapter Nine

"Lupin drank it?" Ron gasped. "Is he mad?"

Harry had just told us about what had happened while we'd been gone. 　

Hermione checked her watch. "We'd better go down, you know, the feast'll be starting in five minutes."

We hurried through the portrait hole and into the crowd, still discussing Snape.

"But if he -- you know" -- Hermione dropped her voice, glancing nervously around -- "if he was trying to to poison Lupin -- he wouldn't have done it in front of Harry."

"Yeah, if Lupin dropped dead it would've been obvious Snape had done it," I agreed.

"Yeah, maybe," said Harry as we reached the entrance hall and crossed into the Great Hall. It had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats, and many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the stormy ceiling like brilliant watersnakes.

The food was delicious. Even Hermione, Ron, and I, already full to bursting with Honeydukes sweets, managed second helpings of everything. Harry kept glancing at the staff table for some reason.

The feast finished with an entertainment provided by the Hogwarts ghosts. They popped out of the walls and tables to do a bit of formation gliding. Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had a great success with a reenactment of his own beheading.

It had been such a pleasant evening that even when Malfoy shouted through the crowd as we all left the hall, "The dementors send their love, Potter," Harry still seemed to be in a good mood.

We followed the rest of the Gryffindors along the usual path to Gryffindor Tower, but when we reached the corridor that ended with the portrait of the Fat Lady, we found it jammed with students.

"Why isn't anyone going in?" said Ron curiously.

Harry peered over the heads in front of him. "The portrait looks closed."

"Let me through, please," came Percy's voice, and he came bustling importantly through the crowd. "What's the holdup here? You can't all have forgotten the password -- excuse me, I'm Head Boy --"

And then a silence fell over the crowd, from the front first, so that a chill seemed to spread down the corridor. They heard Percy say, in a suddenly sharp voice, "Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick."

People's heads turned. Those at the back were standing on tiptoe.

"What's going on?" said Ginny, who had just arrived.

A moment later, Professor Dumbledore was there, sweeping toward the portrait. We squeezed together to let him through, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I moved closer to see what the trouble was.

"Good Morrigan!" I exclaimed softly.

"Oh, my --" Hermione grabbed Harry's arm.

The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait, which had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor. Great chunks of it had been torn away completely.

Dumbledore took one quick look at the ruined painting and turned, his eyes somber, to see Professors McGonagall, Lupin, and Snape hurrying toward him.

"We need to find her," said Dumbledore. "Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."

"You'll be lucky!" said a cackling voice. I looked up.

It was Peeves the Poltergeist, bobbing over the crowd and looking delighted at the sight of wreckage or worry.