'Anyway, 'said Hermione distantly, burying herself in her letters again.' You'll have plenty of chances to ask her out … '
'And if he doesn't want to ask her out? 'Ron kept looking at Harry with an unusual shrewdness in his face.
'Don't be silly, 'said Harry vaguely.
Hermione said vaguely, "Harry liked her for a long time, didn't he, Harry?"
Harry did not answer.
'Who are you writing a novel for? ' Ron asked Hermione, leaning over to read the parchment that had fallen to the floor, and then Hermione dragged it up.
'Wickidoll. '
'Krum? '
'How many Wickidolls do we know of? '
Ron said nothing, but looked queer. They sat in silence for another twenty minutes, Ron finishing his Transfiguration paper with impatient grunts and scribbles, Hermione writing steadily to the end of the parchment, carefully rolling it up and sealing it, Harry staring at the fire, wishing that Sirius' head would appear and give him some advice about girls. But the fire only crackled lower and lower, until the red-hot embers were nothing more than ashes. Harry looked around and saw that they were alone again.
'Well, good night, 'said Hermione, yawning and heading up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.
'What does she see in Krum? 'asked Ron as he and Harry climbed the stairs together.
'Well, 'said Harry thoughtfully.' I suppose he's older … and an international football player … '
'But apart from that, 'said Ron, looking annoyed.' I mean, isn't he just a grumpy good-for-nothing? '
'A bit grumpy, 'said Harry, still thinking of Cho.
In silence they stripped off their robes and put on their pyjamas.
Dean, Seamus, and Neville were all asleep.
Harry put his spectacles on the bedside table and crawled under the covers, but did not draw the curtains. He stared out the window beside Neville's bed at the starry sky.
If he had known at this time last night that he would be kissing Cho Zhang in twenty-four hours' time …
'Good night. '
Said Ron on his right.
'Good night. '
He went to sleep.
…
Tonight, Harry felt his body soft, strong, and nimble. He slid between the shining metal bars, over the dark, cold stones... he slid close to the ground, on his belly... the light was dim, but he could see the light of objects around him, strange, vivid colors... he turned his head... at first glance, the corridor was empty... no... a man was sitting on the ground, his head on his chest, his silhouette gleaming in the gloom.
Harry stuck out his tongue... he tasted the man... alive, but dozing... sitting in front of the door at the end of the corridor...
Harry longed to bite the man … but he had to resist the urge … there were more important things to do …
But the man awoke... leaped to his feet, a silver cloak slipping from his legs, and Harry saw his bright, shadowy silhouette before him, a wand drawn from his belt... he had no choice... he reared up and struck once, twice, three times, sinking his fangs deep into the man's skin, feeling ribs shatter between his teeth, warm blood...
The man screamed in pain … and then fell silent … and collapsed at the foot of the wall … and blood splattered on the ground …
His forehead hurt like hell... it felt like it was going to explode...
"Harry! Harry! "
He opened his eyes, drenched in a cold sweat, the sheet wrapped around him like a straitjacket, and he felt as if a hot poker had been thrust into his forehead.
"Harry!"
Ron stood in front of the bed, terrified. There were several figures at the foot of the bed. He clutched his head, his vision darkening with pain... and rolled to the side of the bed to vomit.
"He's really sick," said a frightened voice. "Should I call for help?"
"Harry! Harry! "
Harry gasped for air and pushed himself up in bed, ordering himself not to vomit. His vision blurred with pain.
"Your father," he gasped, his chest heaving. "Your father... something's happened to him..."
"What?" Ron didn't understand.
"Your father! He's been bitten. It's bad. There's blood everywhere. "
"I'll call for help," said the frightened voice.
The frightened voice said, and Harry heard footsteps running out of the dormitory.
"Harry, man," Ron said doubtfully. "You... you're only dreaming."
"No!" Harry said furiously. He had to make Ron understand. "Not a dream! Not a normal dream! I was there. I saw it. "
He heard Simon and Dean whispering to each other, but he didn't care so much.
The pain in his forehead eased slightly, but he was still sweating and shivering as if he had a fever.
He vomited again, and Ron jumped back. "Harry, you're sick," he said uneasily. "Neville's gone to get help..."
"I'm fine!" Harry choked, wiped his mouth with his pajamas, and shuddered uncontrollably. "I'm not sick. It's your father who should be worried. We need to find out where he is. He's bleeding profusely — it's a big snake."
He tried to get out of bed, but Ron pressed him back down.
A minute passed, then ten. Harry sat there shivering, feeling the pain of his scar slowly subsiding. There were rapid footsteps on the stairs, and he heard Neville's voice again.
"This way, Professor."
Professor Mag hurried into the dormitory in a plaid dressing gown, his glasses askew on his thin nose.
"What's the matter, Potter? Where does it hurt? "
He had never been so happy to see her. He needed a member of the Phoenix Society now, not someone who nervously prescribed him useless medicine.
"It was Ron's father," he said, sitting up again. "He was bitten by a snake. It was very bad. I saw it."
"What? You saw it?" Professor Mag's black eyebrows knitted.
"I don't know … I was sleeping, and then I got there …"
"You mean you dreamed it?"
"No!" Harry said angrily.
"I had a completely different dream first, something stupid … and then this came in. It was real, not my imagination. Mr. Weasley was sleeping on the floor. He was bitten by a big snake. There was a lot of blood. He fell down. We have to find where he is."
Professor Mag looked at him through his crooked glasses as if he had seen something horrible.
"I'm not lying, and I'm not crazy!" Harry shouted. "I tell you, I saw it with my own eyes!"
"I believe you," Professor Mag said simply. "Put on your shirt … and let's go see the headmaster."
"Weasley, you should come along too."
A few minutes later, they arrived at the entrance of Dumbledore's office.
The incident itself was not particularly serious. Dumbledore knew what Mr. Weasley was doing now, but after hearing Harry's account, he couldn't help but feel a little confused.
He wasn't in charge of the Phoenix Society's affairs recently. Jon was in charge of the arrangements there.
He could only send someone to warn them first.
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