Dawn Rivera

Occlumency

Kreacher, it transpires, was lurking in the attic. Uncle Sirius found him up there, covered in dust, no doubt looking for more relics of the Black family to hide in his cupboard. Though Uncle Sirius seems satisfied with this story, it makes me uneasy. Kreacher seems to be in a better mood on his reappearance, his bitter has subsided somewhat and he submits to orders more docilely than usual, though once or twice I catch the house-elf staring at me avidly, but always looking quickly away whenever he sees I've noticed.

I do not mention his vague suspicions to Uncle Sirius, whose cheerfulness is evaporating fast now that Christmas is over. As the date of our departure back to Hogwarts draws nearer, he becomes more and more prone to what Mrs Weasley call "fits of the sullens", in which he will become taciturn and grumpy, often withdrawing to Buckbeak's room for hours at a time. His gloom seeps through the house, oozing under dorrways like some noxious gas, so that all of us become infected by it.

I don't want to leave Uncle Sirius again with only Kreacher for company; in fact, for the first time in my life, I am not looking forwards to returning to Hogwarts. Going back to school will mean placing myself once again under the tyranny of Dolres Umbridge, who has no doubt managed to force through another dozen decrees in our absence; there is no Quidditch to look forwards to now that half the team have been banned and we are sure to lose much more often than is desirable; there is every likelihood that our burden of homework will increase as the exams draw even nearer; and Dumbledore remains as remote as ever towards Harry and Danny. In fact, if it wasn't for the DA, I think I might have begged Uncle Sirius to let me leave Hogwarts and remain in Grimmauld Place.

Then, on the very last day of the holidays, something happens that makes me positively dread Harry's return to school, feeling unexplainable pity towards him.

"Harry, dear," says Mrs Weasley, poking her head into his, Danny's and Ron's bedroom, where the three of them are playing wizard's chess (Harry and Danny against Ron) watched by Hermione, Ginny, Misty, Crookshanks, Lizzie and I, "could you come down to the kitchen? Professor Snape would like a word with you."

I do not immediately register what she says; one of Harry's and Danny's castles are engaged in a violent tussle with a pawn of Ron's and they are egging it on enthusiastically.

"Squash him - squash him, he's only a pawn. you idiot," says Danny. "Sorry, Mrs Weasley, what did you say?"

"Professor Snape, dear. In the kitchen. He'd like a word."

Harry and Danny's mouths fall open in horror. They look around at Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Misty and I, all of whom are gaping back at them. Crookshanks and Lizzie, whom Hermione and I have been restraining with difficulty for the past quarter of an hour, leap gleefully on to the board and set the pieces running for cover, squealing at the top of their voices.

"Snape?" says Harry blankly.

"Professor Snape, dear," says Mrs Weasley reprovingly. "Now come on, quickly, he says he can't stay long."

"What's he want with you?" says Ron, looking unnerved as Mrs Weasley withdraws from the room. "You haven't done anything, have you?"

"No!" says Danny indignantly, and I rack my brains to think what Harry could have done that will make Snape pursue him to Grimmauld Place. Has his last piece of homework perhaps earned a "T"?

*

We open the kitchen door and the entire Weasley family, plus Hermione, Danny and I, go inside, all very happy, with Mr Weasley walking proudly in our midst dressed in a pair of striped pyjamas covered by a mackintosh.

"Cured!" he announces brightly to the kitchen at large. "Completely cured!"

He and the rest of us freeze on the threshold, gazing st the scene in front of us, which is also suspended in mid-action, both Uncle Sirius and Snape pointing into each other's faces and Harry immobile between them, a hand stretched out to each, trying to force them apart.