CHAPTER FIFTEEN
that didn’t look worried and tense, and any laughter that rang
through the corridors sounded shrill and unnatural and was
quickly stifled.
Harry constantly repeated Dumbledore’s final words to himself.
“I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to
me. . . . Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for
it.” But what good were these words? Who exactly were they sup-
posed to ask for help, when everyone was just as confused and
scared as they were?
Hagrid’s hint about the spiders was far easier to understand —
the trouble was, there didn’t seem to be a single spider left in the
castle to follow. Harry looked everywhere he went, helped (rather
reluctantly) by Ron. They were hampered, of course, by the fact
that they weren’t allowed to wander off on their own but had to
move around the castle in a pack with the other Gryffindors. Most
of their fellow students seemed glad that they were being shep-
herded from class to class by teachers, but Harry found it very irk-
some.
One person, however, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the at-
mosphere of terror and suspicion. Draco Malfoy was strutting
around the school as though he had just been appointed Head Boy.
Harry didn’t realize what he was so pleased about until the Potions
lesson about two weeks after Dumbledore and Hagrid had left,
when, sitting right behind Malfoy, Harry overheard him gloating
to Crabbe and Goyle.
“I always thought Father might be the one who got rid of Dum-
bledore,” he said, not troubling to keep his voice down. “I told you
he thinks Dumbledore’s the worst headmaster the school’s ever
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