“Let him breathe, Hermione,” said Ron, grinning as he closed the door behind Harry. He seemed to have grown several more inches during their month apart, making him taller and more gangly looking than ever, though the long nose, bright red hair and freckles were the same.
Still beaming, Hermione let go of Harry, but before she could say another word there was a soft whooshing sound and something white soared from the top of a dark wardrobe and landed gently on Harry’s shoulder.
“Hedwig!”
The snowy owl clicked her beak and nibbled his ear affectionately as Harry stroked her feathers.
“She’s been in a right state,” said Ron. “Pecked us half to death when she brought your last letters, look at this—”
He showed Harry the index finger ol his right hand, which sported a half-healed but clearly deep cut.
“Oh, yeah,” Harry said. “Sorry about that, but I wanted answers, you know—”
“We wanted to give them to you, mate,” said Ron. “Hermione was going spare, she kept saying you’d do something stupid if you were stuck all on your own without news, but Dumbledore made us—”
“—swear not to tell me,” said Harry. “Yeah, Hermione’s already said. ”
The warm glow that had flared inside him at the sight of his two best friends was extinguished as something icy flooded the pit of his stomach. All of a sudden—after yearning to see them for a solid month—he felt he would rather Ron and Hermione left him alone.
There was a strained silence in which Harry stroked Hedwig automatically, not looking at either of the others.
“He seemed to think it was best,” said Hermione rather breathlessly. “Dumbledore, I mean.”
“Right,” said Harry. He noticed that her hands, too, bore the marks of Hedwig’s beak and found that he was not at all sorry.
“I think he thought you were safest with the Muggles—” Ron began.
“Yeah?” said Harry, raising his eyebrows. “Have either of you been attacked by Dementors this summer?”
“Well, no—but that’s why he’s had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing you all the time—”
Harry felt a great jolt in his guts as though he had just missed a step going downstairs. So everyone had known he was being followed, except him.
“Didn’t work that well, though, did it?” said Harry, doing his utmost to keep his voice even. “Had to look after myself after all, didn’t I?”
“He was so angry,” said Hermione, in an almost awestruck voice. “Dumbledore. We saw him. When he found out Mundungus had left before his shift had ended. He was scary.”
“Well, I’m glad he left,” Harry said coldly. “If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have done magic and Dumbledore would probably have left me at Privet Drive all summer.”
“Aren’t you… aren’t you worried about the Ministry of Magic hearing?” said Hermione quietly.
“No,” Harry lied defiantly. He walked away from them, looking around, with Hedwig nestled contentedly on his shoulder, but this room was not likely to raise his spirits. It was dank and dark. A blank stretch of canvas in an ornate picture frame was all that relieved the bareness of the peeling walls, and as Harry passed it he thought he heard someone, who was lurking out of sight, snigger.
“So why’s Dumbledore been so keen to keep me in the dark?” Harry asked, still trying hard to keep his voice casual. “Did you—er—bother to ask him at all?”
He glanced up just in time to see them exchanging a look that told him he was behaving just as they had feared he would. It did nothing to improve his temper.
“We told Dumbledore we wanted to tell you what was going on,” said Ron. “We did, mate. But he’s really busy now, we’ve only seen him twice since we came here and he didn’t have much time, he just made us swear not to tell you important stuff when we wrote, he said the owls might be intercepted.”
“He could still’ve kept me informed if he’d wanted to,” Harry said shortly. “You’re not telling me he doesn’t know ways to send messages without owls.”
Hermione glanced at Ron and then said, “I thought that, too. But he didn’t want you to know anything.”
“Maybe he thinks I can’t be trusted,” said Harry, watching their expressions.
“Don’t be thick,” said Ron, looking highly disconcerted.
“Or that I can’t take care of myself.”
“Of course he doesn’t think that!” said Hermione anxiously.
“So how come I have to stay at the Dursleys’ while you two get to join in everything that’s going on here?” said Harry, the words tumbling over one another in a rush, his voice growing louder with every word. “How come you two are allowed to know everything that’s going on?”
“We’re not!” Ron interrupted. “Mum won’t let us near the meetings, she says we’re too young—”
But before he knew it, Harry was shouting.
“SO YOU HAVEN’T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU’VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN’T YOU? YOU’VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I’VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS’ FOR A MONTH! AND I’VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO’VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT—WHO SAVED THE PHILOSOPHER’S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR SKINS FROM THE DEMENTORS?”
Every bitter and resentful thought Harry had had in the past month was pouring out of him: his frustration at the lack of news, the hurt that they had all been together without him, his fury at being followed and not told about it—all the feelings he was half-ashamed of finally burst their boundaries. Hedwig took fright at the noise and soared off to the top of the wardrobe again; Pigwidgeon twittered in alarm and zoomed even taster around their heads.
“WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME!”
Ron was standing there with his mouth half-open, clearly stunned and at a loss for anything to say, whilst Hermione looked on the verge of tears.
“BUT WHY SHOULD I KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON? WHY SHOULD ANYONE BOTHER TO TELL ME WHAT’S BEEN HAPPENING?”
“Harry, we wanted to tell you, we really did—” Hermione began.
“CAN’T’VE WANTED TO THAT MUCH, CAN YOU, OR YOU’D HAVE SENT ME AN OWL, BUT DUMBLEDORE MADE YOU SWEAR—”
“Well, he did—”
“FOUR WEEKS I’VE BEEN STUCK IN PRIVET DRIVE, NICKING PAPERS OUT OF BINS TO TRY AND FIND OUT WHAT’S BEEN GOING ON—”
“We wanted to—”
“I SUPPOSE YOU’VE BEEN HAVING A REAL LAUGH, HAVEN’T YOU, ALL HOLED UP HERE TOGETHER—”
“No, honest—”
“Harry we’re really sorry!” said Hermione desperately, her eyes now sparkling with tears. “You’re absolutely right, Harry—I’d be furious if it was me!”
Harry glared at her, still breathing deeply, then turned away from them again, pacing up and down. Hedwig hooted glumly from the top of the wardrobe. There was a long pause, broken only by the mournful creak of the floorboards below Harry’s feet.
“What is this place, anyway?” he shot at Ron and Hermione.
“Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix,” said Ron at once.
“Is anyone going to bother telling me what the Order of the Phoenix—?”