The Girl Who Hid | ✓

|67| Fire Talk

Despite the fact that I was still angry with Harry, I was even angrier when he tried to lie that his scar hurt.

"Johnson, right?" I asked the girl who was talking with Harry. I was pretty sure she was Angelina Johnson but I didn't want to outright call her the wrong name.

"Yeah," her eyebrows furrowed.

"Can I talk to my brother please?" I gave her a soft smile.

"Sure," she said to me. "Potter, remember what I said yeah?"

Harry nodded and Angelina strolled ack to Alice Spinnet. Harry moved over to sit next to Hermione, who awoke with a jerk as he put his bag down.

"Oh, Harry, it's you... Good about Ron, isn't it?" she said blearily. "I'm just so— so— so tired," she yawned. "I was up until one o'clock making more hats. They're disappearing like mad!"

"Harry," I said sharply as he was blatantly ignoring me. "Do you seem to forget that when your scar hurts, my scar also hurts? And vice versa?"

"Your scars hurt?" Hermione looked from me to Harry.

"Yeah," said Harry distractedly. "Listen, I was just up in Umbridge's office and she touched my arm—"

"Is that why it hurt?" I asked.

Harry nodded and continued to explain how he thought Umbridge might be controlled by Voldemort like how Quirrell was during our first year.

Hermione and I listened closely. When Harry had finished Hermione said slowly, "You're worried that You-Know-Who's controlling her like he controlled Quirrell?"

"Well," said Harry, dropping his voice, "it's a possibility, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," said Hermione, though she sounded unconvinced. "But I don't think he can be possessing her the way he possessed Quirrell, I mean, he's properly alive again now, isn't he, he's got his own body, he wouldn't need to share someone else's. He could have her under the Imperius Curse, I suppose..."

"Harry, but last year our scars hurt when nobody was touching us, and didn't Dumbledore say it had to do with what Voldemort was feeling at the time? I mean, maybe this hasn't got anything to do with Umbridge at all, maybe it's just coincidence it happened while you were with her?" I offered.

He shot me a dirty look and turned to Hermione, "she's evil. Twisted."

"She's horrible, yes, but... Harry, I think you ought to tell Dumbledore your scars hurt."

"I'm not bothering him with this. Like you just said, it's not a big deal. It's been hurting on and off all summer— it was just a bit worse tonight, that's all—"

"Harry, I'm sure Dumbledore would want to be bothered by this—"

"Yeah," said Harry, before he could stop himself, "that's the only bit of me Dumbledore cares about, isn't it, my scar?"

"That's not true!" I raised my voice at him.

"I think I'll write and tell Sirius about it, see what he thinks—"

"Harry, you can't put something like that in a letter!" said Hermione, looking alarmed. "Don't you remember, Moody told us to be careful what we put in writing! We just can't guarantee owls aren't being intercepted anymore!"

"All right, all right, I won't tell him, then!" said Harry irritably. He got to his feet. "I'm going to bed. Tell Ron for me, will you?"

"Oh no," said Hermione, looking relieved, "if you're going that means I can go without being rude too, I'm absolutely exhausted and I want to make some more hats tomorrow. Listen, you can help me if you like, it's quite fun, I'm getting better, I can do patterns and bobbles and all sorts of things now."