94 Diagon Alley

State of affairs. Sirius, I need you to go now. You go and inform Remus Lupin, Arabella Feig, Mundungus Fletcher—the old men. At your place, I will be there to contact you. "

“But—” said Harry.

He wished Sirius stayed. He didn't want to say goodbye to him so soon.

"You'll see me soon, Harry," Sirius said, turning his head to him, "I promise you. But I have to do my bit, you know. ,yes?"

"Yes," Harry, "yes...of course I understand."

Sirius quickly shook his hand, nodded to Dumbledore, twisted the door handle, and disappeared in a blink of an eye.

"Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, "you know what I'm telling you to do. If you don't mind...if you're ready..."

"No problem," Snape said.

His face was paler than usual, and his icy black eyes flashed strangely.

"Good luck, then," said Dumbledore, with a worried look on his face, watching Snape follow Sirius without a word.

A few minutes passed before Dumbledore spoke.

Dumbledore left, and Harry fell limply on the pillow. All the Gryffindors present looked at him. No one spoke for a long time.

"You must drink the rest of the potion, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley at last. As she reached for the medicine bottle and goblet, she nudged the bag of gold coins on the bedside table. "Get some sleep. Think about something else for a while... Think about what you're going to buy with your bonus!"

"I don't want those gold coins," Harry said flatly, his voice unenthusiastic, "you take it. Anyone can take it. I shouldn't have won it. It should all belong to Cedric."

At this time, the emotions that he had been desperately suppressing and restraining since he left the maze, all of a sudden attacked him, making him unable to be himself. He felt a burning sting in his eyes. He blinked hard, staring at the ceiling above.

"It's not your fault, Harry," said Mrs Weasley softly.

"I told him to come with me to get the trophy," Harry said.

The burning sensation was now in his throat again. He really wished Ron looked away.

Mrs. Weasley put the potion on the bedside table, bent over, and put her arms around Harry. Harry never remembered anyone hugging him like that, like a mother. Everything he had witnessed that night seemed to weigh heavily on his mind as Mrs Weasley held him in her arms. His mother's face, his father's voice, and Cedric's unconscious figure all seemed to begin to dance and spin in his mind. In the end, he couldn't take it anymore, frowning desperately, suppressing the roar of pain that burst out of his throat.

Harry drank the potion in one go. The effect is immediate. A heavy, irresistible, dreamless slumber immediately enveloped him; he fell back on the pillow, thinking of nothing.

Gwen ignored Mrs. Weasley's presence and rested her head lightly on George's shoulder. Her boyfriend put his arm around her gently and comforted Gwen.

"Don't be afraid, Gwen, we have Harry," George said softly.

"Oh," Gwen covered her face in pain, "he's only fifteen, and that—that mysterious man—"

The faces of Hermione and Ron also showed deep concern and fear. Fred put his hand on Ron's shoulder silently.

The air of the ward was filled with unease that was hard to ignore. Under the black night sky, the adults and children who learned the truth understood one thing - everything was about to change.

Return

Fortunately, Harry's body recovered very quickly. While patient Cedric, who had been lying with him in the medical wing for almost a week, still did not regain consciousness, Madam Pomfrey insisted that "no bad news is the best news" for now.

Harry avoided a lot of unnecessary trouble under the deliberate arrangement of Dumbledore and Sirius. According to Hermione and Ron, Dumbledore said a few words to the whole school at breakfast that morning. He just asked everyone not to bother Harry, not to ask him questions or pester him about what happened in the labyrinth that day. Harry noticed that most people walked around him in the hallway, avoiding his gaze. Some covered their mouths with their hands as he passed, whispering to each other.

"Are they all hidden?" He heard a few whispering voices as he passed the classroom.

"George and I put away all the newspapers and magazines we could see in the castle—" Fred was struggling.

George also panted as if he had moved something heavy: "Who can believe that the old people from the Ministry of Magic actually instructed "Witcher Weekly" to write this kind of article."

"Think about Fudge in the medical wing," this time Gwen, her voice full of anger and injustice, "he can keep his eyes open in front of witnesses Blind - 'in the name of the Ministry of Magic'. I can imagine in the hair of my hair how the Daily Prophet is whitewashing peace."

Hermione pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet that she had been carrying in her bag, "I check it every day. Only sent one the day after the third item. Text that Harry won the Triwizard Cup. They didn't even mention Cedric. Not a word about it. I think Fudge forced them to keep silent."

"Poor Harry," Ginny was rubbing sheets of books and throwing them into the flames they raised in the empty classroom, "he's annoying enough, we can't let He saw..."

"...What did you see?" Harry slammed the door and entered, frightening Ron, who was squatting at the door and tearing up the book as if venting his anger, and fell forward, lying on the ground.

Then Harry quickly rescued a fairly intact report from his arms. It was an article several days ago, and it came from a familiar name: Rita Skeeter . She only mentioned the performance of the third project in the article, "The boy who survived was very embarrassed and appeared on the field, and in his arms was another warrior (not even mentioned by name) who was already stiff. , Harry Potter kept shouting "He's back, You-Know-Who is back. "This makes one have to worry again about the boy's mental state, whether his hallucinations have affected his life, in other words, who is the badly injured - perhaps even dead - another warrior who was attacked by Is this his misfortune, or is it all part of Potter's plan?"

Harry was surprisingly steady, he didn't lose his temper, he just smiled to himself. "I have to say, thank you for your kindness."

The other Gryffindors in the room were startled by Harry's calmness and waited silently for Harry's next words.

"You haven't asked me a single question since I came back, which is very difficult in my opinion." Harry met his friends bravely with his green eyes.

Fred was the first to agree with him, "Indeed, we're dying."

"But I think you should know the truth," Harry said firmly. "Dumbledore told me that understanding is the first step in acceptance, and only after acceptance is recovery." He He squeezed his wand tightly, his fingers turning white. "I hope you know what's going on, or look at these things," he pointed to the stacks of newspapers and weekly magazines in the classroom. "How are we going to face the enemy? How are we going to defeat him?"

"I finally understand why the Goblet of Fire chose you, brother." Ron patted Harry on the shoulder excitedly, and the weak boy coughed twice.

"At least one thing you don't have to worry about, Harry. Rita hasn't written anything since the third project." Hermione said, as if trying to hold back, her voice Something weird. "To tell you the truth," she said again, her voice trembling a little, "Rita Skeeter won't be writing anything for a while. Unless she wants me to reveal her secret."

"What are you talking about?" said Ron.

"I finally figured out how she overheard someone's secret conversation when she shouldn't have entered the venue." Hermione said in one breath.

Harry had a feeling that Hermione had been eager to tell them all these days, but seeing so much happened, she had to refrain from saying it.

"How did she do it?" Harry asked hastily.

"How did you find out?" Ron asked, staring at her.

"Cough, in fact, you gave me inspiration, Harry." Hermione said.

"Me?" Harry was confused. "How?"

"The bug," said Hermione cheerfully.

"But you said bugs didn't work—" Fred and George said in unison.

"Oh, not an electronic bug," said Hermione, "it is... Unregistered Animagus. She can become—"

Hermione took out a small sealed glass jar from her bag.

"—become a beetle."

"You're kidding," said Ron, "you didn't...she wouldn't..."

"Oh, that's right," said Hermione happily, waving the glass jar at them.

In the glass jar there were a few twigs and leaves, and a chubby beetle.

"That's impossible—you're kidding—" Ron whispered, holding the bottle to his face.

"No, I'm not joking," Hermione said, beaming.