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Harry
did
n't
have
a
very
clear
idea
of
how
he
had
managed
to
get
back
into
the
Honeydukes
cellar
,
through
the
tunnel
,
and
into
the
castle
once
more
.
All
he
knew
was
that
the
return
trip
seemed
to
take
no
time
at
all
,
and
that
he
hardly
noticed
what
he
was
doing
,
because
his
head
was
still
pounding
with
the
conversation
he
had
just
heard
.
Why
had
nobody
ever
told
him
?
Dumbledore
,
Hagrid
,
Mr.
Weasley
,
Cornelius
Fudge
...
why
had
n't
anyone
ever
mentioned
the
fact
that
Harry
's
parents
had
died
because
their
best
friend
had
betrayed
them
?
Ron
and
Hermione
watched
Harry
nervously
all
through
dinner
,
not
daring
to
talk
about
what
they
'd
overheard
,
because
Percy
was
sitting
close
by
them
.
When
they
went
upstairs
to
the
crowded
common
room
,
it
was
to
find
Fred
and
George
had
set
off
half
a
dozen
Dungbombs
in
a
fit
of
end-of-term
high
spirits
.
Harry
,
who
did
n't
want
Fred
and
George
asking
him
whether
he
'd
reached
Hogsmeade
or
not
,
sneaked
quietly
up
to
the
empty
dormitory
and
headed
straight
for
his
bedside
cabinet
.
He
pushed
his
books
aside
and
quickly
found
what
he
was
looking
for
--
the
leather-bound
photo
album
Hagrid
had
given
him
two
years
ago
,
which
was
full
of
wizard
pictures
of
his
mother
and
father
.
He
sat
down
on
his
bed
,
drew
the
hangings
around
him
,
and
started
turning
the
pages
,
searching
,
until
...
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He
stopped
on
a
picture
of
his
parents
'
wedding
day
.
There
was
his
father
waving
up
at
him
,
beaming
,
the
untidy
black
hair
Harry
had
inherited
standing
up
in
all
directions
.
There
was
his
mother
,
alight
with
happiness
,
arm
in
arm
with
his
dad
.
And
there
...
that
must
be
him
.
Their
best
man
...
Harry
had
never
given
him
a
thought
before
.
If
he
had
n't
known
it
was
the
same
person
,
he
would
never
have
guessed
it
was
Black
in
this
old
photograph
.
His
face
was
n't
sunken
and
waxy
,
but
handsome
,
full
of
laughter
.
Had
he
already
been
working
for
Voldemort
when
this
picture
had
been
taken
?
Was
he
already
planning
the
deaths
of
the
two
people
next
to
him
?
Did
he
realize
he
was
facing
twelve
years
in
Azkaban
,
twelve
years
that
would
make
him
unrecognizable
?
But
the
Dementors
do
n't
affect
him
,
Harry
thought
,
staring
into
the
handsome
,
laughing
face
.
He
does
n't
have
to
hear
my
Mum
screaming
if
they
get
too
close
--
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Harry
slammed
the
album
shut
,
reached
over
and
stuffed
it
back
into
his
cabinet
,
took
off
his
robe
and
glasses
and
got
into
bed
,
making
sure
the
hangings
were
hiding
him
from
view
.
The
dormitory
door
opened
.
"
Harry
?
"
said
Ron
's
voice
uncertainly
.