The Girl Who Hid | ✓

|95| Specialis Revelio

Before breakfast the next morning, Harry and Ron met Hermione and me, hoping for some moral support on their theory about Malfoy. Harry told Hermione and me what he'd overheard Malfoy say on the Hogwarts Express.

"But he was obviously showing off for Parkinson, wasn't he?" interjected Ron quickly, before Hermione could say anything.

"Well," she said uncertainly, "I don't know... It would be like Malfoy to make himself seem more important than he is... but that's a big lie to tell—"

"Exactly," said Harry, but he could not press the point, because so many people were trying to listen in to our conversation, not to mention staring at Harry and me and whispering behind their hands.

"It's rude to point," Ron snapped at a particularly minuscule first-year boy as they joined the queue to climb out of the portrait hole. The boy, who had been muttering something about Harry and me behind his hand to his friend, promptly turned scarlet and toppled out of the hole in alarm. Ron sniggered.

"I love being a sixth year. And we're going to be getting free time this year. Whole periods when we can just sit up here and relax."

"We're going to need that time for studying, Ron!" I said, as we set off down the corridor.

"Yeah, but not today," said Ron. "Today's going to be a real doss, I reckon."

The ceiling of the Great Hall was serenely blue and streaked with frail, wispy clouds, just like the squares of sky visible through the high mullioned windows. While we tucked into oatmeal and eggs and bacon, Harry and Ron told Hermione and me about their embarrassing conversation with Hagrid the previous evening.

"But he can't really think we'd continue Care of Magical Creatures!" I said, looking distressed. "I mean, when has any of us expressed... you know... any enthusiasm?"

"D'you reckon anyone's going to go on to N.E.W.T.?" said Ron.

Neither of us answered; there was no need. We knew perfectly well that nobody in their year would want to continue Care of Magical Creatures. We avoided Hagrid's eye and returned his cheery wave only half-heartedly when he left the staff table ten minutes later.

The distribution of class schedules was more complicated than usual this year, for Professor McGonagall needed first to confirm that everybody had achieved the necessary O.W.L. grades to continue with their chosen N.E.W.T.s.

Hermione and I were immediately cleared to continue with Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions, and shot off to our first period Ancient Runes class without further ado.

An hour later, I waited with Hermione for Harry and Ron outside of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. When they arrived, Hermione complained about the load of homework and readings we had to do by Wednesday. Ron didn't even pretend to care, earning a glare from Hermione.

The classroom door opened as she spoke, and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately.

"Inside," he said.

I looked around as we entered. Snape had imposed his personality upon the room already; it was gloomier than usual, as curtains had been drawn over the windows, and was lit by candlelight. New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries and strangely contorted body parts. Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures.

"I have not asked you to take out your books," said Snape, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk; Hermione hastily dropped her copy of Confronting the Faceless back into her bag and stowed it under her chair. "I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention."