Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - J. K. Rowling [219]
As Smith strode away in an annoyingly buoyant fashion, Ron glared after him.
“Shall I jinx him? I can still get him from here,” he said, raising his wand and taking aim between Smith’s shoulder blades.
“Forget it,” said Harry dismally. “It’s what everyone’s going to think, isn’t it? That I’m really stup —”
“Hi, Harry,” said a voice behind him. He turned around and found Cho standing there.
“Oh,” said Harry as his stomach leapt uncomfortably. “Hi.”
“We’ll be in the library, Harry,” said Hermione firmly, and she seized Ron above the elbow and dragged him off toward the marble staircase.
“Had a good Christmas?” asked Cho.
“Yeah, not bad,” said Harry.
“Mine was pretty quiet,” said Cho. For some reason, she was looking rather embarrassed. “Erm … there’s another Hogsmeade trip next month, did you see the notice?”
“What? Oh no, I haven’t checked the notice board since I got back. …”
“Yes, it’s on Valentine’s Day. …”
“Right,” said Harry, wondering why she was telling him this. “Well, I suppose you want to — ?”
“Only if you do,” she said eagerly.
Harry stared. He had been about to say “I suppose you want to know when the next D.A. meeting is?” but her response did not seem to fit.
“I — er —” he said.
“Oh, it’s okay if you don’t,” she said, looking mortified. “Don’t worry. I-I’ll see you around.”
She walked away. Harry stood staring after her, his brain working frantically. Then something clunked into place.
“Cho! Hey — CHO!”
He ran after her, catching her halfway up the marble staircase.
“Er — d’you want to come into Hogsmeade with me on Valentine’s Day?”
“Oooh, yes!” she said, blushing crimson and beaming at him.
“Right … well … that’s settled then,” said Harry, and feeling that the day was not going to be a complete loss after all, he headed off to the library to pick up Ron and Hermione before their afternoon lessons, walking in a rather bouncy way himself.
By six o’clock that evening, however, even the glow of having successfully asked out Cho Chang was insufficient to lighten the ominous feelings that intensified with every step Harry took toward Snape’s office.
He paused outside the door when he reached it, wishing he were almost anywhere else, then, taking a deep breath, knocked, and entered.
It was a shadowy room lined with shelves bearing hundreds of glass jars in which floated slimy bits of animals and plants, suspended in variously colored potions. In a corner stood the cupboard full of ingredients that Snape had once accused Harry — not without reason — of robbing. Harry’s attention was drawn toward the desk, however, where a shallow stone basin engraved with runes and symbols lay in a pool of candlelight. Harry recognized it at once — Dumbledore’s Pensieve. Wondering what on earth it was doing here, he jumped when Snape’s cold voice came out of the corner.
“Shut the door behind you, Potter.”
Harry did as he was told with the horrible feeling that he was imprisoning himself as he did so. When he turned back to face the room Snape had moved into the light and was pointing silently at the chair opposite his desk. Harry sat down and so did Snape, his cold black eyes fixed unblinkingly upon Harry, dislike etched in every line of his face.
“Well, Potter, you know why you are here,” he said. “The headmaster has asked me to teach you Occlumency. I can only hope that you prove more adept at it than Potions.”
“Right,” said Harry tersely.
“This may not be an ordinary class, Potter,” said Snape, his eyes narrowed malevolently, “but I am still your teacher and you will therefore call me ‘sir’ or ‘Professor’ at all times.”
“Yes … sir,” said Harry.
“Now, Occlumency. As I told you back in your dear godfather’s kitchen, this branch of magic seals the mind against magical intrusion and influence.”
“And why does Professor Dumbledore think I need it, sir?” said Harry, looking directly into Snape’s dark, cold eyes and wondering whether he would answer.
Snape looked