The bell rang for the end of the lesson. Overhead and all around came the elephantine sounds of hundreds of students on the move.

“It says here she’s given you detention every evening this week, starting tomorrow,” Professor McGonagall said, looking down at Umbridge’s note again.

“Every evening this week!” Harry repeated, horrified. “But, Professor, couldn’t you—?”

“No, I couldn’t,” said Professor McGonagall flatly.

“But—”

“She is your teacher and has every right to give you detention. You will go to her room at five o’clock tomorrow for the first one. Just remember: tread carefully around Dolores Umbridge.”

“But I was telling the truth!” said Harry, outraged. “Voldemort is back, you know he is; Professor Dumbledore knows he is—”

“For heaven’s sake, Potter!” said Professor McGonagall, straightening her glasses angrily (she had winced horribly when he had used Voldemort’s name). “Do you really think this is about truth or lies? It’s about keeping your head down and your temper under control!”

She stood up, nostrils wide and mouth very thin, and Harry stood up, too.

“Have another biscuit,” she said irritably, thrusting the tin at him.

“No, thanks,” said Harry coldly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped.

He took one.

“Thanks,” he said grudgingly.

“Didn’t you listen to Dolores Umbridge’s speech at the start-of-term feast, Potter?”

“Yeah,” said Harry. “Yeah… she said… progress will be prohibited or… well, it meant that… that the Ministry of Magic is trying to interfere at Hogwarts.”

Professor McGonagall eyed him closely for a moment, then sniffed, walked around her desk and held open the door for him.

“Well, I’m glad you listen to Hermione Granger at any rate,” she said, pointing him out of her office.

DETENTION WITH DOLORES

Dinner in the Great Hall that night was not a pleasant experience for Harry. The news about his shouting match with Umbridge had travelled exceptionally fast even by Hogwarts’ standards. He heard whispers all around him as he sat eating between Ron and Hermione. The funny thing was that none of the whisperers seemed to mind him overhearing what they were saying about him. On the contrary, it was as though they were hoping he would get angry and start shouting again, so that they could hear his story first-hand.

“He says he saw Cedric Diggory murdered…”

“He reckons he duelled with You-Know-Who…”

“Come off it…”

“Who does he think he’s kidding?”

“Pur-lease…”

“What I don’t get,” said Harry through clenched teeth, laying down his knife and fork (his hands were shaking too much to hold them steady), “is why they all believed the story two months ago when Dumbledore told them…”

“The thing is, Harry, I’m not sure they did,” said Hermione grimly. “Oh, let’s get out of here.”

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<== попередня сторінка	\|	наступна сторінка ==>
A door to his left flew open and Professor McGonagall emerged from her office looking grim and slightly harassed.	\|	She slammed down her own knife and fork; Ron looked longingly at his half-finished apple pie but followed suit. People stared at them all the way out of the Hall.

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