Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor

Chapter 6

Harry wasn't sure, then or ever after, how he had made it to Gryffindor tower. Somehow his head was so wrapped in thought that his feet took him automatically along the route he had traced so many times before. He got to the portrait of the Fat Lady and discovered he didn't know the new password. But of course everyone would be down at breakfast in the Great Hall anyway.

He wandered down the corridor then waited for the moving staircase to shift for him. He made a mental note to never, ever step off this particular ledge without first checking that the stairway really was in place. He was discovering that in some lights he could see better than in others. After a good nights' sleep and with a little more ambient daylight but not any directly in his eyes, he could actually make out the stairs swinging toward him fairly clearly and listened with satisfaction as they ground into place. He descended and headed toward the Great Hall.

Upon entering, the candlelight was gone; in its place daylight streamed in the tall leaded windows, washing out the scene before him in glaring, searing light. He sighed, hesitating in the doorway. Then he headed toward the table where he and Hermione had sat last night. As he got closer, the table came a little more into focus. He dropped into the first empty seat he could find, bending his head in shame to be sitting among the wriggling first-years. At this point it just seemed too much work to try and find his friends.

Breakfast was almost over and he'd eaten already in the hospital wing, anyway. So he sat hunched listening to Professor McGonagall trotting up and down along the table handing out class schedules.

"Potter?" she asked in her no-nonsense voice as she neared the middle of the table and the third-year students. "Where is Harry Potter?"

Harry reluctantly sat higher and raised his hand sheepishly, his cheeks growing hot.

"Oh, there you are, Potter," she said crisply, stepping toward him. Although she made no comment about his not being with his class, he could hear titters and whispers crawling up and down the table. He held out his hand toward the tall, thin blur that was Professor McGonagall and she placed the square schedule in his reaching palm. He took it silently and she moved on, calling out, "Thomas?"

After breakfast had ended and students began trickling toward their dorms or first classes, Ron and Hermione surged toward Harry.

"Where were you?" Ron demanded. "Why were you sitting with the first-years? What happened?"

Harry could neither stop the flow of questions nor get a word in edgewise, so he waited for Ron to draw breath and replied, "I was in the hospital wing."

"What did Madame Pomfrey say?" Hermione asked fearfully.

Harry stood up. "Not much," he said, moving toward the door.

"What do you mean, not much?" Hermione asked, rounding on Harry and blocking his path.

Harry stopped with a frown. "I mean not much. She can't do anything."

Hermione and Ron both gasped. "Really?" Hermione said sympathetically, while Ron remained silent.

"But why..." began Hermione but she was stopped by Professor McGonagall's voice cutting across the emptying Hall.

"Potter," she said, approaching them. "May I see you for a few moments?"

A few nearby students tittered. Harry, relieved, stepped away from Hermione. For some reason he felt shy of his friends and hesitant to answer their questions. He wanted to talk, to tell them everything, but not here, not now.

"I'll tell you later, ok?" he flung back toward Hermione and then followed the tall form of Professor McGonagall to the head table.

"Professor Dumbledore and I would like a few minutes of your time, Potter," said Professor McGonagall.