Previous Chapters:
Chapter 1: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003622070
Chapter 2: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003623371
Chapter 3: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003624429
Chapter 4: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003627163
Chapter 5: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003627566
Chapter 6: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003628099
Chapter 7: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003629240
Chapter 8: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003629849
Chapter 9: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003633592
Chapter 10: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003636880
Chapter 11: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003637775
Chapter 12: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003637976
Chapter 13: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003644162
Tags: @Bellatrisblack @CatsAndRoblox @Rose.gold.kiisses @MeowTasticCat
Chapter Fourteen: 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 seemed to have traveled exceptionally fast even by Hogwarts standards. He heard whispers all around him as he sat eating between Tracey and Allison. 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 firsthand.
‘He says he saw Cedric Diggory murdered...’
‘He reckons he dueled with You-Know-Who...’
‘Come off it...’
‘Who does he think he’s kidding?’
‘Pur-lease...’
‘What I don’t get,’ said Harry in a shaking voice, laying down his
knife and fork (his hands were trembling too much to hold them steady), ‘is why they all believed the story two months ago when Dumbledore told them...’
‘To be honest, I don’t know how many people really did,’ said Theodore, who then gave Colin a kiss on the cheek and stood up. ‘I’ll see you later, come on guys, this environment is to toxic for Harry.’
Tracey also gave Terence a quick kiss and then she, Allison, and Harry rose to follow Theodore. People stared at them all the way out of the Hall.
‘What d’you mean, you don’t know if they believed Dumbledore?’ Harry asked Theodore when they reached the stairs leading to the Slytherin Common Room.
Instead of Theodore, Tracey answered his question, ‘Harry, try and see it from everyone else’s point of view, all that everyone in the stands saw was you return clutching Cedric’s body, no one saw what happened or who killed him. Then Dumbledore says You-Know-Who is back, but nothing in the Daily Prophet confirmed that, so how could the Dark Lord be back if nothing bad is happening or the Ministry is not saying anything.’
‘But it’s true that he’s back,’ said Harry loudly.
‘We know, Harry. We believe you and Dumbledore,’ said Allison. ‘What Tracey says is true though, anyone who felt unsure if You-Know-Who was back went home soon after to be surrounded by Prophet stories saying you and Dumbledore are insane, so it confirms their suspicions that everything is ok.’
‘People would rather ignore the truth if the lie makes them feel more safe,’ concluded Tracey.
The Slytherin Dungeon was freezing, so the group huddled near the large hearth. Harry felt as though his first day of classes had lasted a week, but he still had a mountain of homework to do before bed. A dull pounding pain was developing over his right eye. The common room was thankfully almost empty; nearly everyone was still up at dinner, so as they started their homework there was little distractions. Despite this Harry gazed into the flames, feeling drained and exhausted.
Out of no where, Theodore suddenly slammed his book shut, ‘Why would Dumbledore hire such an incompetent and clearly scheming teacher. How can we prepare for O.W.L.s when we can’t even practice the spells. Is there really no one else available for the job.’
‘Well, we’ve often had not the greatest Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, have we?’ said Harry. ‘You know what it’s like, Hagrid told us, nobody wants the job, they say it’s jinxed.’
‘Yes, but even Lockhart at least had us practicing magic,’ said Allison.
‘Well Lockhart doesn’t even know his middle name now,’ said Harry, though he regretted it pretty quickly as Tracey instantly looked full of shame. Harry quickly got off the Lockhart topic. ‘It’s not just her teaching though, you heard how she wanted students to come to her if they heard anyone saying Voldemort is back. She’s going to punish anyone who says the truth, and award snitches.’
‘Of course she’s award snitches, because that’s what she is,’ said Tracey, ‘that is certainly why Fudge sent her, so she could report back to the Ministry anything related to staff or student’s saying You-Know-Who is back.’
People were coming back from dinner now, so Harry said quietly, ‘Let’s do that homework, get it out of the way...’
Harry kept his face averted from the enchanted wall, but could still sense the stares he was attracting.
‘Should we do Potions first?’ asked Allison.
‘As much as I’d love to write that paper right now,’ said Theodore, ‘I’m exhausted and the only homework due tomorrow is Charms, so I’m finishing that then going to bed. If you need help with Potions you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.’
‘No, I think you’re right, Theo,’ said Allison. ‘We’ll do Charms then get to sleep. I think we’ve all had a long day.’
Harry agreed with that notion, he had started to notice that the ache in his right temple was getting worse. He thought of the long essay on Moonstones and the pain stabbed at him sharply. Knowing perfectly well that he would regret not finishing more of his homework tonight when the morning came, he finished his Charms work with the others than piled his books back into his bag.
‘I’m heading to bed now,’ said Harry as he, Theodore, and Allison all rose. He turned to Tracey. ‘Are you staying up?’
‘Probably not long, just want to spend some time with Terence once he’s done his own homework.’
Allison nodded, ‘Alright, see you in the dorm.’
With that Harry and Theodore headed up to their own dormitory. Besides Draco everyone else was already in the boys dormitory, Blaise even looked like he had a quick remark ready, but Harry just got on his bed and drew the curtains.
The following day dawned just as leaden and rainy as the previous one. Hagrid was still absent from the staff table at breakfast.
‘Today is going to be miserable,’ said Harry as he stared at his schedule.
‘It can’t be as bad as yesterday, you don’t have Potions or Defence class today,’ said Allison in an attempt at a reassuring tone.
‘But I have Divination in its place. Also even though I don’t have Defence today I still have to see Umbridge tonight for detention.’
‘It’ll be alright,’ said Tracey, ‘me and Theodore will be with you in Divination, and all of us will wait for you after your detention.’
It wasn’t much comfort, but Harry still appreciated it.
Once they all finished eating, Harry begrudgingly ascend the silver ladder that led to Sibyll Trelawney’s classroom. Divination was Harry’s least favorite class after Potions, which was due mainly to Professor Trelawney’s habit of predicting his premature death every few lessons. A thin woman, heavily draped in shawls and glittering with strings of beads, she always reminded Harry of some kind of insect, with her glasses hugely magnifying her eyes. She was busy putting copies of battered, leather-bound books on each of the spindly little tables with which her room was littered when Harry, Tracey, and Theodore entered the room, but so dim was the light cast by the lamps covered by scarves and the low-burning, sickly-scented fire that she appeared not to notice him as he took a seat in the shadows. The rest of the Slytherins and Ravenclaws arrived over the next five minutes. Once the last student sat down the class started.
‘Good day,’ said Professor Trelawney in her usual misty, dreamy voice. ‘And welcome back to Divination. I have, of course, been following your fortunes most carefully over the holidays, and am delighted to see that you have all returned to Hogwarts safely—as, of course, I knew you would. You will find on the tables before you copies of The Dream Oracle, by Inigo Imago. Dream interpretation is a most important means of divining the future and one that may very probably be tested in your O.W.L. Not, of course, that I believe examination passes or failures are of the remotest importance when it comes to the sacred art of divination. If you have the Seeing Eye, certificates and grades matter very little. However, the headmaster likes you to sit the examination, so...’
Her voice trailed away delicately, leaving them all in no doubt that Professor Trelawney considered her subject above such sordid matters as examinations.
‘Turn, please, to the introduction and read what Imago has to say on the matter of dream interpretation. Then divide into pairs. Use The Dream Oracle to interpret each other’s most recent dreams. Carry on.’
The one good thing to be said for this lesson was that it was not a double period. By the time they had all finished reading the introduction of the book, they had barely ten minutes left for dream interpretation.
They all had to get in pairs of twos, so Harry was with Theodore, and Tracey paired up with Daphne Greengrass. Poor Tracey looked bored out of her mind as Daphne tried to explain a dream about an approaching cloud that she couldn’t outrun; Harry and Theodore merely looked at each other glumly.
‘I don’t think any of my dreams have a deeper meaning, just a mashup of stuff from my day,’ said Theodore. ‘What about you?’
‘No, you go first,’ said Harry impatiently.
He was not going to share his dreams with anyone. He knew perfectly well what his regular nightmare about a graveyard meant, he did not need Theodore or Professor Trelawney or the stupid Dream Oracle to tell him that...
‘I guess last night I dreamt Tracey was standing on Flitwick’s head while casting hexes at Umbridge. What deeper meaning could it have other than a wacky mashup of yesterdays events?’
‘Maybe that you’re doomed to drown under a full moon,’ said Harry, turning the pages of The Dream Oracle without interest.
It was very dull work looking up bits of dreams in the Oracle and Harry was not cheered up when Professor Trelawney set them the task of keeping a dream diary for a month as homework. When the bell went, he, Tracey, and Theodore led the way back down the ladder, and they picked up there pace to make it to their second Charms class.
They met up with Allison who had just finished Study of Ancient Runes, and entered Professor Flitwick’s class. They all handed in their homework, and while Flitwick marked them they were instructed to continue practicing the review Charms from the day previous.
After double Charms was thankfully lunch. Although it was the last thing they wanted to do, once they had all finished eating they made their way to the library to get started on their research of moonstones for Potions and Mandrakes for the Herbology paper due the following morning.
By the time the bell rang and they had reached Care of Magical Creatures, Harry’s head was aching again.
The day had become cool and breezy, and, as they walked down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid’s cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, they felt the occasional drop of rain on their faces. Professor Grubbly-Plank stood waiting for the class some ten yards from Hagrid’s front door, a long trestle table in front of her laden with many twigs.
As Harry and his friends reached her, a high pitched cackle sounded behind them; turning, they saw Pansy Parkinson striding toward them, surrounded by her usual gang of Slytherin cronies. She had clearly just said something highly amusing, because Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise Zabini continued to snigger heartily as they gathered around the trestle table. Judging by the fact that all of them kept looking over at Harry, he was able to guess the subject of the joke without too much difficulty.
'Everyone here?' barked Professor Grubbly-Plank, once all the Slytherins and Gryffindors had arrived. 'Let’s crack on then—who can tell me what these things are called?'
She indicated the heap of twigs in front of her. Hermione Granger’s hand shot into the air. Behind her back, Pansy Parkinson was doing a crude impression of Hermione and giving out a shriek of laughter that turned almost at once into a scream, as the twigs on the table leapt into the air and revealed themselves to be what looked like tiny pixieish creatures made of wood, each with knobbly brown arms and legs, two twiglike fingers at the end of each hand, and a funny, flat, barklike face in which a pair of beetle-brown eyes glittered.
'Cute!' said both Tracey and Daphne Greengrass, while some Gryffindor girls awed in the background. This however thoroughly irritating Harry: Anyone would have thought that Hagrid never showed them impressive creatures; admittedly the flobberworms had been a bit dull, but the salamanders and hippogriffs had been interesting enough, and the Blast-Ended Skrewts perhaps too much so.
'Kindly keep your voices down, girls!' said Professor Grubbly-Plank sharply, scattering a handful of what looked like brown rice among the stick-creatures, who immediately fell upon the food. 'So—anyone know the names of these creatures? Miss Granger?'
'Bowtruckles,' said Hermione. 'They’re tree-guardians, usually live in wand-trees.'
'Five points for Gryffindor,' said Professor Grubbly-Plank. 'Yes, these are bowtruckles and, as Miss Granger rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?'
'They eat wood lice,' Theodore said very quickly, which explained why what Harry had taken for grains of brown rice were moving.
'Anything else?' Professor Grubbly-Plank prompted.
'They'll eat fairy eggs if they can find and obtain them,' said Hermione proudly.
'Good job both of you, five points to both your houses. So whenever you need leaves or wood from a tree in which a bowtruckle lodges, it is wise to have a gift of wood lice ready to distract or placate it. They may not look dangerous, but if angered they will gouge out human eyes with their fingers, which, as you can see, are very sharp and not at all desirable near the eyeballs. So if you’d like to gather closer, take a few wood lice and a bowtruckle—I have enough here for one between three—you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body parts labeled by the end of the lesson.'
The class surged forward around the trestle table. Harry deliberately circled around the back so that he ended up right next to Professor Grubbly-Plank.
'Where’s Hagrid?' he asked her, while everyone else was choosing bowtruckles.
'Never you mind,' said Professor Grubbly-Plank repressively, which had been her attitude last time Hagrid had failed to turn up for a class too.
Smirking all over his pointed face, Draco Malfoy leaned across Harry and seized the largest bowtruckle.
'Maybe,' said Malfoy in an undertone, so that only Harry could hear him, 'the stupid great oaf ’s got himself badly injured.'
'Maybe you will if you don’t shut up,' said Harry out of the side of his mouth.
Malfoy's smirk softened ever so slightly, and said in a very quiet voice, 'Maybe he’s been messing with stuff that’s too big for him, if you get my drift.'
Malfoy walked away, and Harry suddenly felt sick. Did Malfoy know something? His father was a Death Eater, after all; what if he had information about Hagrid’s fate that had not yet reached the Order’s ears? He hurried back around the table to Theodore, Allison, and Tracey, who were squatting on the grass some distance away and attempting to persuade a bowtruckle to remain still long enough to draw it. Harry pulled out parchment and quill, crouched down beside the others, and related in a whisper what Malfoy had just said.
‘Harry, everyone we know has assured us that Hagrid is alright,’ said Theodore. ‘Malfoy may not be as cruel as he used to be, but he’s still a jerk, he was probably trying to get a reaction out of y—‘
‘Mr Potter, that is already a group of three,’ called out Professor Grubbly-Plank. ‘I’ll have you join that group of two over there.’
Not wanting to get in an argument with a teacher, Harry reluctantly did as he was told and spent the rest of the class holding a bowtruckle while Ron and Hermione drew it and took notes.
When he looked up at one point he spotted Pansy Parkinson staring at him, once she saw she had caught his eye she started doing a crude impression of Hagrid, including stomping on the ground and making him look unintelligent. He tried his best to ignore her but she was getting under his skin.
When the bell echoed distantly over the grounds Harry rolled up his bowtruckle picture and marched off to History of Magic while Malfoy’s words still rang in his ears, and Pansy’s mockery lingered in his mind.
‘If she makes fun of Hagrid one more time...’ snarled Harry.
‘Harry, you can’t let Pansy get to you,’ said Allison as they approached Professor Binns’ classroom, ‘that weasel is a Prefect now, she can make your life a living hell for the slightest transgression.’
‘Wow, I wonder what it’d be like to live in a living hell?’ said Harry sarcastically. Theodore laughed, but Allison and Tracey frowned.
History of Magic was by common consent the most boring subject ever devised by Wizard-kind. Professor Binns, their ghost teacher, had a wheezy, droning voice that was almost guaranteed to cause severe drowsiness within ten minutes, five in warm weather. He never varied the form of their lessons, but lectured them without pausing while they took notes, or rather, gazed sleepily into space.
Harry, Allison, and Tracey had so far managed to scrape passes in this subject only by copying Theodore’s notes before exams; he alone seemed able to resist the soporific power of Binns’s voice.
Today they suffered through three quarters of an hour’s droning on the subject of giant wars. Harry heard just enough within the first ten minutes to appreciate dimly that in another teacher’s hands this subject might have been mildly interesting, but then his brain disengaged, and he spent the remaining thirty-five minutes playing hangman on a corner of his parchment with Allison, while Theodore shot them filthy looks out of the corner of his eye.
As Harry was starving, and had his first detention at five o’clock, they headed to the Great Hall early. It was as they headed towards supper Theodore finally let them have it. ‘I said it yesterday and yet you all seemed to already forgot, I won’t be doing all the work for the classes you three find to difficult.’
‘Well what do you suggest Theo,’ complained Allison. ‘You’re the only one who doesn’t fall asleep.’
‘There’s a companion textbook to the class, I recommend you all actually use it, and after that if you have any questions then I might point you in the right direction.’
The group fell silent for the majority of their journey towards the Great Hall, but as they started descending the final staircase Harry blurted out what had been on his mind since Care of Magical Creatures.
‘I just wish Hagrid would hurry up and get back, that’s all,’ said Harry in a low voice, as they reached the bottom of the stairs. ‘And don’t say that Grubbly-Plank woman’s a better teacher!’ he added threateningly.
‘None of us were going to say that,’ said Allison in her stoic voice.
‘Because she’ll never be as good as Hagrid,’ said Harry firmly, fully aware that he had experienced an exemplary Care of Magical Creatures lesson today and was thoroughly annoyed about it.
They entered the Great Hall and started heading for their table, passing the Ravenclaw table in the process. A few seconds later they passed Luna Lovegood, when she saw Harry, her prominent eyes seemed to bulge excitedly and she made a beeline straight for him. Many of his classmates turned curiously to watch. Luna took a great breath and then said, without so much as a preliminary hello: ‘I believe He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, and I believe you fought him and escaped from him.’
‘Er—right,’ said Harry awkwardly.
Luna was wearing what looked like a pair of orange radishes for earrings, a fact that Millicent Bulstrode seemed to have noticed as she passed by, as she was giggling and staring at her earlobes.
‘You can laugh!’ Luna said, her voice rising, apparently under the impression that Millicent was laughing at what she had said rather than what she was wearing. ‘But people used to believe there were no such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!’
‘But there aren’t any, are there?’ said Theodore impatiently. ‘There is no such thing as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.’
Luna gave him a withering look and flounced away, radishes swinging madly. Millicent was not the only ones hooting with laughter now.
‘D’you mind not offending the only people who believe me?’ Harry asked Theodore as they sat down at their table.
‘Harry you don’t know who you are dealing with,’ said Theodore. ‘You aren’t at the Cottage for most of the summer, but her father has often come over for tea with our parents, and he is just as crazy as she is.’
Before Harry could say another word, Canini came running towards him and Theodore, she looked very distressed.
‘Cani,’ said Harry very concerned, ‘what’s wrong?’
She sat between her two adoptive brothers, and in a quiet shaky voice she spoke.
‘You were right Harry, you and our parents were right. Umbridge knows.’
Theodore now looked panicked, ‘What did she say, did she tell the whole class, are you ok?’
Canini just shook her head, ‘She didn’t say anything, that’s how I know. She would reluctantly answer every other kid in the class, every kid except me. Even if my hand was the only one raised in the room she wouldn’t acknowledge I exist.’
‘Well that’s not to bad,’ said Harry trying to sound reassuring. ‘I wouldn’t mind Umbridge not talking to me.’
‘But she won’t answer any of my questions, I have to get Bhavana to ask my questions for me. I’m also worried she will eventually tell the class and then everyone will know, or worse she’ll never speak to me and the class will start getting suspicious as to the reason why.’
Harry didn’t quite now what to do, so he just gave her a little hug, ‘It’ll be alright, maybe write Moony and ask for advice.’
Supper went by more quickly than Harry would have liked, and before he knew it, it was five to five and Harry bade the others good-bye and set off for Umbridge’s office on the third floor. When he knocked on the door she said, ‘Come in,’ in a sugary voice. He entered cautiously, looking around.
He had known this office under three of its previous occupants. In the days when Gilderoy Lockhart had lived here it had been plastered in beaming portraits of its owner. When Remus had occupied it, it was likely you would meet some fascinating Dark creature in a cage or tank if you came to call. In the impostor Moody’s days it had been packed with various instruments and artifacts for the detection of wrongdoing and concealment. Now, however, it looked totally unrecognizable. The surfaces had all been draped in lacy covers and cloths. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each residing on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large technicolor kitten wearing a different bow around its neck. These were so foul that Harry stared at them, transfixed, until Professor Umbridge spoke again.
‘Good evening, Mr Potter.’
Harry started and looked around. He had not noticed her at first because she was wearing a luridly flowered set of robes that blended only too well with the tablecloth on the desk behind her.
‘Evening,’ Harry said stiffly.
‘Well, sit down,’ she said, pointing toward a small table draped in lace beside which she had drawn up a straight-backed chair. A piece of blank parchment lay on the table, apparently waiting for him.
‘Er,’ said Harry, without moving. ‘Professor Umbridge? Er—before we start, I-I wanted to ask you a...a question.’
Her bulging eyes narrowed.
‘Oh yes?’
‘Well, um...my little sister came to me at supper all concerned. She says you wouldn’t answer any of her questions even if her hand was raised.’
‘Well that doesn’t sound right, I wouldn’t ignore a young witch if she was following the rules I set. What is your sister’s name?’
‘Canini Howling, she’s a third year Hufflepuff and—‘
‘I see the error in your thinking now Mr Potter, I stand by what I just said, I wouldn’t ignore a young witch.’
‘But you ignored her—‘
‘You and I both know Mr Potter that that thing is no witch. The law sadly requires that I teach everyone in my class, but it does not require that I speak with any beasts. It can do its homework and I’ll mark it and that’ll be the extent that I’ll interact with it.’
‘But—‘
Harry felt the blood surge to his head and heard a thumping noise in his ears. No one should speak about his sister like that. She was watching him with her head slightly to one side, still smiling widely, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking and was waiting to see whether he would start shouting again. With a massive effort Harry looked away from her, dropped his schoolbag beside the straight-backed chair, and sat down.
‘There,’ said Umbridge sweetly, ‘we’re getting better at controlling our temper already, aren’t we? Now, you are going to be doing some lines for me, Mr Potter. No, not with your quill,’ she added, as Harry bent down to open his bag. ‘You’re going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here you are.’
She handed him a long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point.
‘I want you to write “I must not tell lies,”’ she told him softly.
‘How many times?’ Harry asked, with a creditable imitation of politeness.
‘Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in,’ said Umbridge sweetly. ‘Off you go.’
She moved over to her desk, sat down, and bent over a stack of parchment that looked like essays for marking. Harry raised the sharp black quill and then realized what was missing.
‘You haven’t given me any ink,’ he said.
‘Oh, you won’t need ink,’ said Professor Umbridge with the merest suggestion of a laugh in her voice.
Harry placed the point of the quill on the paper and wrote: “I must not tell lies.”
He let out a gasp of pain. The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of Harry’s right hand, cut into his skin as though traced there by a scalpel—yet even as he stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth.
Harry looked around at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile.
‘Yes?’
‘Nothing,’ said Harry quietly.
He looked back at the parchment, placed the quill upon it once more, wrote I must not tell lies, and felt the searing pain on the back of his hand for a second time; once again the words had been cut into his skin, once again they healed over seconds later.
And on it went. Again and again Harry wrote the words on the parchment in what he soon came to realize was not ink, but his own blood. And again and again the words were cut into the back of his hand, healed, and then reappeared the next time he set quill to parchment.
Darkness fell outside Umbridge’s window. Harry did not ask when he would be allowed to stop. He did not even check his watch. He knew she was watching him for signs of weakness and he was not going to show any, not even if he had to sit here all night, cutting open his own hand with this quill...
‘Come here,’ she said, after what seemed hours.
He stood up. His hand was stinging painfully. When he looked down at it he saw that the cut had healed, but that the skin there was red raw.
‘Hand,’ she said.
He extended it. She took it in her own. Harry repressed a shudder as she touched him with her thick, stubby fingers on which she wore a number of ugly old rings.
‘Tut, tut, I don’t seem to have made much of an impression yet,’ she said, smiling. ‘Well, we’ll just have to try again tomorrow evening, won’t we? You may go.’
Harry left her office without a word. The school was quite deserted; it was surely past midnight. He walked slowly up the corridor then, when he had turned the corner and was sure that she would not hear him, broke into a run.
