Harry Potter 06 - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

school. Only Mrs Weasley was there to say goodbye, as Mr Weasley, Fred, George, Bill and Fleur were all at work. Mrs Weasley dissolved into tears at the moment of parting. Admittedly, it took very little to set her off lately; she had been crying on and off ever since Percy had stormed from the house on Christmas Day with his glasses splattered with mashed parsnip (for which Fred, George and Ginny all claimed credit).
    ‘Don’t cry, Mum,’ said Ginny, patting her on the back as Mrs Weasley sobbed into her shoulder. ‘It’s OK …’
    ‘Yeah, don’t worry about us,’ said Ron, permitting his mother to plant a very wet kiss on his cheek, ‘or about Percy. He’s such a prat, it’s not really a loss, is it?’
    Mrs Weasley sobbed harder than ever as she enfolded Harry in her arms.
    ‘Promise me you’ll look after yourself … stay out of trouble …’
    ‘I always do, Mrs Weasley,’ said Harry. ‘I like a quiet life, you know me.’
    She gave a watery chuckle and stood back.
    ‘Be good, then, all of you …’
    Harry stepped into the emerald fire and shouted, ‘Hogwarts!’ He had one last fleeting view of the Weasleys’ kitchen and Mrs Weasley’s tearful face before the flames engulfed him; spinning very fast, he caught blurred glimpses of other wizarding rooms, which were whipped out of sight before he could get a proper look; then he was slowing down, finally stopping squarely in the fireplace in Professor McGonagall’s office. She barely glanced up from her work as he clambered out over the grate.
    ‘Evening, Potter. Try not to get too much ash on the carpet.’
    ‘No, Professor.’
    Harry straightened his glasses and flattened his hair as Ron came spinning into view. When Ginny had arrived, all three of them trooped out of McGonagall’s office and off towards Gryffindor Tower. Harry glanced out of the corridor windows as they passed; the sun was already sinking over grounds carpeted in deeper snow than had lain over The Burrow garden. In the distance, he could see Hagrid feeding Buckbeak in front of his cabin.
    ‘Baubles,’ said Ron confidently, when they reached the Fat Lady, who was looking rather paler than usual, and winced at his loud voice.
    ‘No,’ she said.
    ‘What d’you mean, “no”?’
    ‘There is a new password,’ she said. ‘And please don’t shout.’
    ‘But we’ve been away, how’re we supposed to –?’
    ‘Harry! Ginny!’
    Hermione was hurrying towards them, very pink-faced and wearing a cloak, hat and gloves.
    ‘I got back a couple of hours ago, I’ve just been down to visit Hagrid and Buck— I mean Witherwings,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Did you have a good Christmas?’
    ‘Yeah,’ said Ron at once, ‘pretty eventful, Rufus Scrim—’
    ‘I’ve got something for you, Harry,’ said Hermione, neither looking at Ron nor giving any sign that she had heard him. ‘Oh, hang on – password. Abstinence .’
    ‘Precisely,’ said the Fat Lady in a feeble voice, and swung forwards to reveal the portrait hole.
    ‘What’s up with her?’ asked Harry.
    ‘Overindulged over Christmas, apparently,’ said Hermione, rolling her eyes as she led the way into the packed common room. ‘She and her friend Violet drank their way through all the wine in that picture of drunk monks down by the Charms corridor. Anyway …’
    She rummaged in her pocket for a moment, then pulled out a scroll of parchment with Dumbledore’s writing on it.
    ‘Great,’ said Harry, unrolling it at once to discover that his next lesson with Dumbledore was scheduled for the following night. ‘I’ve got loads to tell him – and you. Let’s sit down –’
    But at that moment there was a loud squeal of ‘Won-Won!’ and Lavender Brown came hurtling out of nowhere and flung herself into Ron’s arms. Several onlookers sniggered; Hermione gave a tinkling laugh and said, ‘There’s a table over here … coming, Ginny?’
    ‘No, thanks, I said I’d meet Dean,’ said Ginny, though Harry could not help noticing that she did not sound very enthusiastic. Leaving Ron and Lavender locked in a kind of vertical wrestling match, Harry led Hermione over to the spare table.
    ‘So how was your Christmas?’
    ‘Oh, fine,’ she shrugged. ‘Nothing special. How was it at Won-Won’s?’
    ‘I’ll tell you in a minute,’ said Harry. ‘Look, Hermione, can’t you –?’
    ‘No, I can’t,’ she said flatly. ‘So don’t even ask.’
    ‘I thought maybe, you know, over Christmas