'What do you think might be in there? '
Asked Luna eagerly, as the wall began to move again.
'No doubt, 'whispered Hermione softly.
Hermione answered in a small voice. Neville chuckled nervously.
The wall stopped moving, and Harry pushed open a door beside him in despair.
'Here it is! '
When he saw the beautiful, diamond-like gleam of light, he knew at once that this was the room.
After his eyes gradually adapted to the dazzling light here, he could clearly see that the dials of many clocks were shining faintly.
They varied in size, from grandfather clocks to travelling clocks, and hung between bookshelves, and stood on tables that ran the length of the room.
Because of this, a rapid, incessant ticking filled the room, like the sound of thousands of tiny footsteps.
The diamond-like gleam of light came from a tall crystal globe at the far end of the room.
'This way! '
Harry's heart beat fiercely as soon as he knew that they were on the right track.
He led the way, following the narrow space between the tables towards the source of light, as he had done in his dream.
The globe, as tall as Harry, stood on one of the tables, and seemed to be filled with a roiling, sparkling current.
'Oh, look! '
Said Ginny, pointing to the centre of the globe as they came nearer.
Floating in the flickering light was a small, jewel-bright egg. When it rose up in the glass cover, it cracked open with a snap. A hummingbird emerged and rose straight to the top of the glass cover. But as the airflow fell, the bird's feathers were dirtied and drenched again until it landed at the bottom of the glass cover and was once again trapped in the egg.
'Go on, don't stop! '
Said Harry sharply, for Ginny seemed eager to stop and watch the transformation of the egg into a hummingbird.
'You've had enough of the Old Arch! '
She retorted, but followed him through the crystal dome to the only door behind it.
'Here it is! '
Said Harry again. His heart was beating so hard that he thought it must have affected his speech. 'It goes through here-'
He glanced round at the others. They had all taken out their wands, and looked momentarily grave and eager.
He turned back to the door, gave it a push, and it opened.
They came inside and finally found this place.
This place was as tall as a church, and it was filled with tall shelves filled with small gray glass balls. Other than that, there was nothing else.
More candlesticks were set into the shelves at regular intervals, and from them came a dim light, like that in the black room, the flames were blue.
The little glass globes glowed faintly in the light.
It's cold in the house … Harry slowly walked forward and looked down at a dark aisle between two rows of shelves. He couldn't hear a sound, and he couldn't feel any movement, not even the slightest movement.
"You said the ninety-seventh row," Hermione whispered beside him.
"Yes."
Harry responded softly, looking up at the end of the nearest row. The candles glowed blue, and silver numbers flashed under the brackets.
53。
"I think we should go right."
Hermione whispered as she glanced sideways at the row beside her.
"Right, this is 54."
"Everyone get your wands ready."
They crept along the long aisle between the shelves, glancing behind them from time to time. It was almost dark in the distance.
On the shelf under each glass ball was a small yellowed label.
Some of the globes glowed with a mysterious, flowing light; others were dim and dark, like extinguished light bulbs.
They walked past rows eighty-four and eighty-five. Harry strained to hear the slightest sound, but heard nothing.
Maybe Sirius's mouth was gagged, or maybe he was unconscious … or maybe a loathsome voice crept into his head. "Maybe he's dead …"
If that's the case, I can feel it, Harry reminded himself, his heart leaping into his throat.
"Ninety-seven!" Hermione whispered.
They gathered at one end of the ninety-seventh row, staring down the aisle beside the shelves. There was no one there.
"He's over there," Harry said.
Harry said, his mouth dry. "It's impossible to see clearly from here."
He led them between two rows of towering globes, some of which glowed faintly as they passed.
"He should be around here," Harry said in a low voice. He was convinced that with every step he took, Sirius' ragged figure would appear on the dark floor. "He's somewhere here... he's really close..."
"Harry?" Hermione tried, but he didn't want to answer. His mouth was very dry.
"Somewhere in here," he said.
They were at the other end of the row, exposed to more dim candlelight. There was no one there, either.
There were only echoes and dusty silence.
'He could be in … 'whispered Harry hoarsely, his eyes fixed on the aisle beside him.
"Or maybe …" He looked down the next aisle at once.
"Harry?" Hermione said again.
"What?" he said impatiently.
"I … I don't think Sirius is here."
No one said anything.
Harry didn't want to look at any of them.
He felt very sick.
He couldn't understand why Sirius wasn't here, when he should be.
He ran quickly in one direction, past rows of shelves, looking down them.
Empty aisle after empty aisle flashed past him.
His companions stared at him, and he turned and ran past them in the opposite direction. There was no sign of Sirius anywhere, no sign of a struggle.
"Harry?"
"What?"
He didn't want to hear Ron say anything; he didn't want to hear Ron tell him he was stupid, or suggest they should go back to the Hogwarts. But his face grew hotter and hotter, as if he wanted to hide here in the darkness before he faced the high, bright stalls and the other reproachful eyes.
"Do you see this?" said Ron.
"What?"
Harry asked, his voice urgent this time — there must be some sign or clue that Sirius had been here.
The others were standing a little farther in at the end of the ninety-seventh row of shelves. He strode up to them and found nothing, except that Ron was staring at a dirty glass globe on a shelf.
"What?"
He repeated gloomily.
"It's — it's got your name on it."
Harry moved closer, and Ron pointed to a small globe. It was dirty, as if it hadn't been touched in years, but it shone a little because of the faint light inside it.
"My name?"
Harry asked blankly.
He stepped forward, and because he wasn't as tall as Ron, he had to crane his neck to look at the yellowed label under the globe on the shelf.
On it was marked a date about sixteen years ago in delicate handwriting. Then it read:
S.P.TtoA.P.W.B.D.
THE BLACK DEVIL AND (?) HARRY POTTER
"What is this?"
Ron asked. "Why is your name on this?"
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