Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (51 page)

They were saved, it did not matter that Ron had let in those goals, nobody would remember as long as Gryffindor had won –

WHAM.

A Bludger hit Harry squarely in the small of the back and he flew forwards off his broom. Luckily he was only five or six feet above the ground, having dived so low to catch the Snitch, but he was winded all the same as he landed flat on his back on the frozen pitch. He heard Madam Hooch’s shrill whistle, an uproar in the stands compounded of catcalls, angry yells and jeering, a thud, then Angelina’s frantic voice.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Course I am,’ said Harry grimly, taking her hand and allowing her to pull him to his feet. Madam Hooch was zooming towards one of the Slytherin players above him, though he could not see who it was from this angle.

‘It was that thug Crabbe,’ said Angelina angrily, ‘he whacked the Bludger at you the moment he saw you’d got the Snitch – but we won, Harry, we won!’

Harry heard a snort from behind him and turned around, still holding the Snitch tightly in his hand: Draco Malfoy had landed close by. White-faced with fury, he was still managing to sneer.

‘Saved Weasley’s neck, haven’t you?’ he said to Harry. ‘I’ve never seen a worse Keeper … but then he was
born in a bin …
did you like my lyrics, Potter?’

Harry didn’t answer. He turned away to meet the rest of the team who were now landing one by one, yelling and punching the air in triumph; all except Ron, who had dismounted from his broom over by the goalposts and seemed to be making his way slowly back to the changing rooms alone.

‘We wanted to write another couple of verses!’ Malfoy called, as Katie and Alicia hugged Harry. ‘But we couldn’t find rhymes for fat and ugly – we wanted to sing about his mother, see –’

‘Talk about sour grapes,’ said Angelina, casting Malfoy a disgusted look.

‘– we couldn’t fit in
useless loser
either
–
for his father, you know –’

Fred and George had realised what Malfoy was talking about. Halfway through shaking Harry’s hand, they stiffened, looking round at Malfoy.

‘Leave it!’ said Angelina at once, taking Fred by the arm. ‘Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he’s just sore he lost, the jumped-up little –’

‘– but you like the Weasleys, don’t you, Potter?’ said Malfoy, sneering. ‘Spend holidays there and everything, don’t you? Can’t see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you’ve been dragged up by Muggles, even the Weasleys’ hovel smells OK –’

Harry grabbed hold of George. Meanwhile, it was taking the combined efforts of Angelina, Alicia and Katie to stop Fred leaping on Malfoy, who was laughing openly. Harry looked around for Madam Hooch, but she was still berating Crabbe for his illegal Bludger attack.

‘Or perhaps,’ said Malfoy, leering as he backed away, ‘you can remember what
your
mother’s house stank like, Potter, and Weasley’s pigsty reminds you of it –’

Harry was not aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting towards Malfoy. He had completely forgotten that all the teachers were watching: all he wanted to do was cause Malfoy as much pain as possible; with no time to draw out his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Malfoy’s stomach –

‘Harry! HARRY! GEORGE!
NO!
’

He could hear girls’ voices screaming, Malfoy yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing and the bellowing of the crowd around him, but he did not care. Not until somebody in the vicinity yelled
‘Impedimenta!’
and he was knocked over backwards by the force of the spell, did he abandon the attempt to punch every inch of Malfoy he could reach.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ screamed Madam Hooch, as Harry leapt to his feet. It seemed to have been her who had hit him with the Impediment Jinx; she was holding her whistle in one hand and a wand in the other; her broom lay abandoned several feet away. Malfoy was curled up on the ground, whimpering and moaning, his nose bloody; George was sporting a swollen lip; Fred was still being forcibly restrained by the three Chasers, and Crabbe was cackling in the background. ‘I’ve never seen behaviour like it – back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House’s office! Go!
Now!
’

Harry and George marched off the pitch, both panting, neither saying a word to the other. The howling and jeering of the crowd grew fainter and fainter until they reached the Entrance Hall, where they could hear nothing except the sound of their own footsteps. Harry became aware that something was still struggling in his right hand, the knuckles of which he had bruised against Malfoy’s jaw. Looking down, he saw the Snitch’s silver wings protruding from between his fingers, struggling for release.

They had barely reached the door of Professor McGonagall’s office when she came marching along the corridor behind them. She was wearing a Gryffindor scarf, but tore it from her throat with shaking hands as she strode towards them, looking livid.

‘In!’ she said furiously, pointing to the door. Harry and George entered. She strode around behind her desk and faced them, quivering with rage as she threw the Gryffindor scarf aside on to the floor.

‘Well?’
she said. ‘I have never seen such a disgraceful exhibition. Two on one! Explain yourselves!’

‘Malfoy provoked us,’ said Harry stiffly.

‘Provoked you?’ shouted Professor McGonagall, slamming a fist on to her desk so that her tartan tin slid sideways off it and burst open, littering the floor with Ginger Newts. ‘He’d just lost, hadn’t he? Of course he wanted to provoke you! But what on earth he can have said that justified what you two –’

‘He insulted my parents,’ snarled George. ‘And Harry’s mother.’

‘But instead of leaving it to Madam Hooch to sort out, you two decided to give an exhibition of Muggle duelling, did you?’ bellowed Professor McGonagall. ‘Have you any idea what you’ve –?’

‘Hem, hem.’

Harry and George both spun round. Dolores Umbridge was standing in the doorway wrapped in a green tweed cloak that greatly enhanced her resemblance to a giant toad, and was smiling in the horrible, sickly, ominous way that Harry had come to associate with imminent misery.

‘May I help, Professor McGonagall?’ asked Professor Umbridge in her most poisonously sweet voice.

Blood rushed into Professor McGonagall’s face.

‘Help?’ she repeated, in a constricted voice. ‘What do you mean,
help
?’

Professor Umbridge moved forwards into the office, still smiling her sickly smile.

‘Why, I thought you might be grateful for a little extra authority.’

Harry would not have been surprised to see sparks fly from Professor McGonagall’s nostrils.

‘You thought wrong,’ she said, turning her back on Umbridge. ‘Now, you two had better listen closely. I do not care what provocation Malfoy offered you, I do not care if he insulted every family member you possess, your behaviour was disgusting and I am giving each of you a week’s worth of detentions! Do not look at me like that, Potter, you deserve it! And if either of you ever –’

‘Hem, hem.’

Professor McGonagall closed her eyes as though praying for patience as she turned her face towards Professor Umbridge again.

‘Yes?’

‘I think they deserve rather more than detentions,’ said Umbridge, smiling still more broadly.

Professor McGonagall’s eyes flew open.

‘But unfortunately,’ she said, with an attempt at a reciprocal smile that made her look as though she had lockjaw, ‘it is what I think that counts, as they are in my House, Dolores.’

‘Well,
actually
, Minerva,’ simpered Professor Umbridge, ‘I think you’ll find that what I think
does
count. Now, where is it? Cornelius just sent it … I mean,’ she gave a false little laugh as she rummaged in her handbag, ‘the
Minister
just sent it … ah yes …’

She had pulled out a piece of parchment which she now unfurled, clearing her throat fussily before starting to read what it said.

‘
Hem, hem …
“Educational Decree Number Twenty-five”.’

‘Not another one!’ exclaimed Professor McGonagall violently.

‘Well, yes,’ said Umbridge, still smiling. ‘As a matter of fact, Minerva, it was you who made me see that we
needed
a further amendment … you remember how you overrode me, when I was unwilling to allow the Gryffindor Quidditch team to re-form? How you took the case to Dumbledore, who insisted that the team be allowed to play? Well, now, I couldn’t have that. I contacted the Minister at once, and he quite agreed with me that the High Inquisitor has to have the power to strip pupils of privileges, or she – that is to say, I – would have less authority than common teachers! And you see now, don’t you, Minerva, how right I was in attempting to stop the Gryffindor team re-forming?
Dreadful
tempers … anyway, I was reading out our amendment …
hem, hem …
“the High Inquisitor will henceforth have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions and removal of privileges pertaining to the students of Hogwarts, and the power to alter such punishments, sanctions and removals of privileges as may have been ordered by other staff members. Signed, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, Order of Merlin First Class, etc., etc.”’

She rolled up the parchment and put it back into her handbag, still smiling.

‘So … I really think I will have to ban these two from playing Quidditch ever again,’ she said, looking from Harry to George and back again.

Harry felt the Snitch fluttering madly in his hand.

‘Ban us?’ he said, and his voice sounded strangely distant. ‘From playing … ever again?’

‘Yes, Mr Potter, I think a lifelong ban ought to do the trick,’ said Umbridge, her smile widening still further as she watched him struggle to comprehend what she had said. ‘You
and
Mr Weasley here. And I think, to be safe, this young man’s twin ought to be stopped, too – if his teammates had not restrained him, I feel sure he would have attacked young Mr Malfoy as well. I will want their broomsticks confiscated, of course; I shall keep them safely in my office, to make sure there is no infringement of my ban. But I am not unreasonable, Professor McGonagall,’ she continued, turning back to Professor McGonagall who was now standing as still as though carved from ice, staring at her. ‘The rest of the team can continue playing, I saw no signs of violence from any of
them
. Well … good afternoon to you.’

And with a look of the utmost satisfaction, Umbridge left the room, leaving a horrified silence in her wake.

*

‘Banned,’ said Angelina in a hollow voice, late that evening in the common room. ‘
Banned.
No Seeker and no Beaters … what on earth are we going to do?’

It did not feel as though they had won the match at all. Everywhere Harry looked there were disconsolate and angry faces; the team themselves were slumped around the fire, all apart from Ron, who had not been seen since the end of the match.

‘It’s just so unfair,’ said Alicia numbly. ‘I mean, what about Crabbe and that Bludger he hit after the whistle had been blown? Has she banned
him
?’

‘No,’ said Ginny miserably; she and Hermione were sitting on either side of Harry. ‘He just got lines, I heard Montague laughing about it at dinner.’

‘And banning Fred when he didn’t even do anything!’ said Alicia furiously, pummelling her knee with her fist.

‘It’s not my fault I didn’t,’ said Fred, with a very ugly look on his face, ‘I would’ve pounded the little scumbag to a pulp if you three hadn’t been holding me back.’

Harry stared miserably at the dark window. Snow was falling. The Snitch he had caught earlier was now zooming around and around the common room; people were watching its progress as though hypnotised and Crookshanks was leaping from chair to chair, trying to catch it.

‘I’m going to bed,’ said Angelina, getting slowly to her feet. ‘Maybe this will all turn out to have been a bad dream … maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and find we haven’t played yet …’

She was soon followed by Alicia and Katie. Fred and George sloped off to bed some time later, glowering at everyone they passed, and Ginny went not long after that. Only Harry and Hermione were left beside the fire.

‘Have you seen Ron?’ Hermione asked in a low voice.

Harry shook his head.

‘I think he’s avoiding us,’ said Hermione. ‘Where do you think he –?’

But at that precise moment, there was a creaking sound behind them as the Fat Lady swung forwards and Ron came clambering through the portrait hole. He was very pale indeed and there was snow in his hair. When he saw Harry and Hermione, he stopped dead in his tracks.

‘Where have you been?’ said Hermione anxiously, springing up.

‘Walking,’ Ron mumbled. He was still wearing his Quidditch things.

‘You look frozen,’ said Hermione. ‘Come and sit down!’

Ron walked to the fireside and sank into the chair furthest from Harry’s, not looking at him. The stolen Snitch zoomed over their heads.

‘I’m sorry,’ Ron mumbled, looking at his feet.

‘What for?’ said Harry.

‘For thinking I can play Quidditch,’ said Ron. ‘I’m going to resign first thing tomorrow.’

‘If you resign,’ said Harry testily, ‘there’ll only be three players left on the team.’ And when Ron looked puzzled, he said, ‘I’ve been given a lifetime ban. So’ve Fred and George.’

‘What?’ Ron yelped.

Hermione told him the full story; Harry could not bear to tell it again. When she had finished, Ron looked more anguished than ever.

‘This is all my fault –’

‘You didn’t
make
me punch Malfoy,’ said Harry angrily.

‘– if I wasn’t so terrible at Quidditch –’

‘– it’s got nothing to do with that.’

‘– it was that song that wound me up –’

‘– it would’ve wound anyone up.’

Hermione got up and walked to the window, away from the argument, watching the snow swirling down against the pane.

‘Look, drop it, will you!’ Harry burst out. ‘It’s bad enough, without you blaming yourself for everything!’

Ron said nothing but sat gazing miserably at the damp hem of his robes. After a while he said in a dull voice, ‘This is the worst I’ve ever felt in my life.’