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

could be a lot of explanations?’
    ‘Maybe he’s broken his Hand of Glory,’ said Ron vaguely, as he attempted to straighten his broomstick’s bent tail twigs. ‘Remember that shrivelled-up arm Malfoy had?’
    ‘But what about when he said “Don’t forget to keep that one safe”?’ asked Harry for the umpteenth time. ‘That sounded to me like Borgin’s got another one of the broken objects, and Malfoy wants both.’
    ‘You reckon?’ said Ron, now trying to scrape some dirt off his broom handle.
    ‘Yeah, I do,’ said Harry. When neither Ron nor Hermione answered, he said, ‘Malfoy’s father’s in Azkaban. Don’t you think Malfoy’d like revenge?’
    Ron looked up, blinking.
    ‘Malfoy, revenge? What can he do about it?’
    ‘That’s my point, I don’t know!’ said Harry, frustrated. ‘But he’s up to something and I think we should take it seriously. His father’s a Death Eater and –’
    Harry broke off, his eyes fixed on the window behind Hermione, his mouth open. A startling thought had just occurred to him.
    ‘Harry?’ said Hermione in an anxious voice. ‘What’s wrong?’
    ‘Your scar’s not hurting again, is it?’ asked Ron nervously.
    ‘He’s a Death Eater,’ said Harry slowly. ‘He’s replaced his father as a Death Eater!’
    There was a silence, then Ron erupted in laughter.
    ‘ Malfoy? He’s sixteen, Harry! You think You-Know-Who would let Malfoy join?’
    ‘It seems very unlikely, Harry,’ said Hermione, in a repressive sort of voice. ‘What makes you think –?’
    ‘In Madam Malkin’s. She didn’t touch him, but he yelled and jerked his arm away from her when she went to roll up his sleeve. It was his left arm. He’s been branded with the Dark Mark.’
    Ron and Hermione looked at each other.
    ‘Well …’ said Ron, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.
    ‘I think he just wanted to get out of there, Harry,’ said Hermione.
    ‘He showed Borgin something we couldn’t see,’ Harry pressed on stubbornly. ‘Something that seriously scared Borgin. It was the Mark, I know it – he was showing Borgin who he was dealing with, you saw how seriously Borgin took him!’
    Ron and Hermione exchanged another look.
    ‘I’m not sure, Harry …’
    ‘Yeah, I still don’t reckon You-Know-Who would let Malfoy join …’
    Annoyed, but absolutely convinced he was right, Harry snatched up a pile of filthy Quidditch robes and left the room; Mrs Weasley had been urging them for days not to leave their washing and packing until the last moment. On the landing he bumped into Ginny, who was returning to her room carrying a pile of freshly laundered clothes.
    ‘I wouldn’t go in the kitchen just now,’ she warned him. ‘There’s a lot of Phlegm around.’
    ‘I’ll be careful not to slip in it,’ smiled Harry.
    Sure enough, when he entered the kitchen it was to find Fleur sitting at the kitchen table, in full flow about plans for her wedding to Bill, while Mrs Weasley kept watch over a pile of self-peeling sprouts, looking bad-tempered.
    ‘… Bill and I ’ave almost decided on only two bridesmaids, Ginny and Gabrielle will look very sweet togezzer. I am theenking of dressing zem in pale gold – pink would of course be ’orrible with Ginny’s ’air –’
    ‘Ah, Harry!’ said Mrs Weasley loudly, cutting across Fleur’s monologue. ‘Good, I wanted to explain about the security arrangements for the journey to Hogwarts tomorrow. We’ve got Ministry cars again, and there will be Aurors waiting at the station –’
    ‘Is Tonks going to be there?’ asked Harry, handing over his Quidditch things.
    ‘No, I don’t think so, she’s been stationed somewhere else from what Arthur said.’
    ‘She ’as let ’erself go, zat Tonks,’ mused Fleur, examining her own stunning reflection in the back of a teaspoon. ‘A big mistake, if you ask –’
    ‘Yes, thank you,’ said Mrs Weasley tartly, cutting across Fleur again. ‘You’d better get on, Harry, I want the trunks ready tonight, if possible, so we don’t have the usual last-minute scramble.’
    And in fact, their departure the following morning was smoother than usual. The Ministry cars glided up to the front of The Burrow to find them waiting: trunks packed, Hermione’s cat, Crookshanks, safely enclosed in his travelling basket, and Hedwig, Ron’s owl Pigwidgeon, and Ginny’s new purple Pygmy Puff, Arnold, in cages.
    ‘Au revoir, ’Arry,’ said Fleur throatily, kissing him goodbye. Ron hurried