Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince - J. K. Rowling [112]
“Hang on a moment,” he said slowly. “I thought Filch had banned anything bought at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes?”
“And when has anyone ever paid attention to what Filch has banned?” asked Hermione, still concentrating on her essay.
“But I thought all the owls were being searched. So how come these girls are able to bring love potions into school?”
“Fred and George send them disguised as perfumes and cough potions,” said Hermione. “It’s part of their Owl Order Service.”
“You know a lot about it.”
Hermione gave him the kind of nasty look she had just given his copy of Advanced Potion-Making.
“It was all on the back of the bottles they showed Ginny and me in the summer,” she said coldly. “I don’t go around putting potions in people’s drinks … or pretending to, either, which is just as bad. …”
“Yeah, well, never mind that,” said Harry quickly. “The point is, Filch is being fooled, isn’t he? These girls are getting stuff into the school disguised as something else! So why couldn’t Malfoy have brought the necklace into the school — ?”
“Oh, Harry … not that again …”
“Come on, why not?” demanded Harry.
“Look,” sighed Hermione, “Secrecy Sensors detect jinxes, curses, and concealment charms, don’t they? They’re used to find Dark Magic and Dark objects. They’d have picked up a powerful curse, like the one on that necklace, within seconds. But something that’s just been put in the wrong bottle wouldn’t register — and anyway, love potions aren’t Dark or dangerous —”
“Easy for you to say,” muttered Harry, thinking of Romilda Vane.
“— so it would be down to Filch to realize it wasn’t a cough potion, and he’s not a very good wizard, I doubt he can tell one potion from —”
Hermione stopped dead; Harry had heard it too. Somebody had moved close behind them among the dark bookshelves. They waited, and a moment later the vulturelike countenance of Madam Pince appeared around the corner, her sunken cheeks, her skin like parchment, and her long hooked nose illuminated unflatteringly by the lamp she was carrying.
“The library is now closed,” she said. “Mind you return anything you have borrowed to the correct — what have you been doing to that book, you depraved boy?”
“It isn’t the library’s, it’s mine!” said Harry hastily, snatching his copy of Advanced Potion-Making off the table as she lunged at it with a clawlike hand.
“Despoiled!” she hissed. “Desecrated! Befouled!”
“It’s just a book that’s been written on!” said Harry, tugging it out of her grip.
She looked as though she might have a seizure; Hermione, who had hastily packed her things, grabbed Harry by the arm and frogmarched him away.
“She’ll ban you from the library if you’re not careful. Why did you have to bring that stupid book?”
“It’s not my fault she’s barking mad, Hermione. Or d’you think she overheard you being rude about Filch? I’ve always thought there might be something going on between them. …”
“Oh, ha ha …”
Enjoying the fact that they could speak normally again, they made their way along the deserted, lamp-lit corridors back to the common room, arguing about whether or not Filch and Madam Pince were secretly in love with each other.
“Baubles,” said Harry to the Fat Lady, this being the new, festive password.
“Same to you,” said the Fat Lady with a roguish grin, and she swung forward to admit them.
“Hi, Harry!” said Romilda Vane, the moment he had climbed through the portrait hole. “Fancy a gillywater?”
Hermione gave him a “what-did-I-tell-you?” look over her shoulder.
“No thanks,” said Harry quickly. “I don’t like it much.”
“Well, take these anyway,” said Romilda, thrusting a box into his hands. “Chocolate Cauldrons, they’ve got firewhisky in them. My gran sent them to me, but I don’t like them.”
“Oh — right — thanks a lot,” said Harry, who could not think what else to say. “Er — I’m just going over here with …”
He hurried off behind Hermione, his voice tailing away feebly.
“Told you,” said Hermione