Lupin was wearing an odd expression as he looked at Harry. It was close to pitying.
“You think I’m a fool?” demanded Harry.
“No, I think you’re like James,” said Lupin, “who would have regarded it as the height of dishonor to mistrust his friends.”
Harry knew what Lupin was getting at: that his father had been betrayed by his friend Peter Pettigrew. He felt irrationally angry. He wanted to argue, but Lupin had turned away from him, set down his glass upon a side table, and addressed Bill, “There’s work to do. I can ask Kingsley whether—”
“No,” said Bill at once, “I’ll do it, I’ll come.”
“Where are you going?” said Tonks and Fleur together.
“Mad-Eye’s body,” said Lupin. “We need to recover it.”
“Can’t it—?” began Mrs. Weasley with an appealing look at Bill.
“Wait?” said Bill, “Not unless you’d rather the Death Eaters took it?”
Nobody spoke. Lupin and Bill said good-bye and left.
The rest of them now dropped into chairs, all except for Harry, who remained standing. The suddenness and completeness of death was with them like a presence.
“I’ve got to go too,” said Harry.
Ten pairs of startled eyes looked at him.
“Don’t be silly, Harry,” said Mrs. Weasley, “What are you talking about?”
“I can’t stay here.”
He rubbed his forehead; it was prickling again, he had not hurt like this for more than a year.
“You’re all in danger while I’m here. I don’t want—”
“But don’t be so silly!” said Mrs. Weasley. “The whole point of tonight was to get you here safely, and thank goodness it worked. And Fleur’s agreed to get married here rather than in France, we’ve arranged everything so that we can all stay together and look after you—”
She did not understand; she was making him feel worse, not better.
“If Voldemort finds out I’m here—”
“But why should he?” asked Mrs. Weasley.
“There are a dozen places you might be now, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley. “He’s got no way of knowing which safe house you’re in.”
“It’s not me I’m worried for!” said Harry.
“We know that,” said Mr. Weasley quietly, “but it would make our efforts tonight seem rather pointless if you left.”
“Yer not goin’ anywhere,” growled Hagrid. “Blimey, Harry, after all we wen’ through ter get you here?”
“Yeah, what about my bleeding ear?” said George, hoisting himself up on his cushions.
“I know that—”
“Mad-Eye wouldn’t want—”
“I KNOW!” Harry bellowed.
He felt beleaguered and blackmailed. Did they think he did not know what they had done for him, didn’t they understand that it was for precisely that reason that he wanted to go now, before they had to suffer any more on his behalf? There was a long and awkward silence in which his scar continued to prickle and throb, and which was broken at last by Mrs. Weasley.
“Where’s Hedwig, Harry?” she said coaxingly. “We can put her up with Pidwidgeon and give her something to eat.”