"I couldn't," said Harry. "I promised Dumbledore I wouldn't wander off while I'm staying here." "Oh yeah," said Ron. He peeled a few more sprouts and then said, "Are you going to tell Dumbledore what you heard Snape and Malfoy saying to each other?" "Yep," said Harry. "I'm going to tell anyone who can put a stop to it, and Dumbledore's top of the list. I might have another word with your dad too."
"Pity you didn't hear what Malfoy's actually doing, though." "I couldn't have done, could I? That was the whole point, he was refusing to tell Snape." There was silence for a moment or two, then Ron said, " 'Course, you know what they'll all say? Dad and Dumbledore and all of them? They'll say Snape isn't really trying to help Malfoy, he was just trying to find out what Malfoy's up to." "They didn't hear him," said Harry flatly. "No one's that good an actor, not even Snape." "Yeah . . . I'm just saying, though/' said Ron. Harry turned to face him, frowning. "You think I'm right, though?" , "Yeah, I do!" said Ron hastily. "Seriously, I do! But they're all convinced Snape's in the Order, aren't they?" Harry said nothing. It had already occurred to him that this would be the most likely objection to his new evidence; he could hear Hermione now: Obviously, Harry, he was pretending to offer help so he could trick Malfoy into telling him what he's doing. . . . This was pure imagination, however, as he had had no opportu-nity to tell Hermione what he had overheard. She had disappeared from Slughorn's
party before he returned to it, or so he had been informed by an irate McLaggen, and she had already gone to bed by the time he returned to the common room. As he and Ron had left for the Burrow early the next day, he had barely had time to wish her a happy Christmas and to tell her that he had some very important news when they got back from the holidays. He was not entirely sure that she had heard him, though; Ron and Lavender had been saying a thoroughly nonverbal good-bye just behind him at the time. Still, even Hermione would not be able to deny one thing: Mal-foy was definitely up to something, and Snape knew it, so Harry felt fully justified in saying "I told you so," which he had done sev-eral times to Ron already. Harry did not get the chance to speak to Mr. Weasley, who was working very long hours at the Ministry, until Christmas Eve night. The Weasleys and their guests were sitting in the living room, which Ginny had decorated so lavishly that it was rather like sitting in a paper-chain explosion. Fred, George, Harry, and Ron were the only ones who knew that the angel on top of the tree was actually a garden gnome that had bitten Fred on the ankle as hr pulled up carrots for Christmas dinner. Stupefied, painted gold, stuffed into a miniature tutu and with small wings glued to il.s back, it glowered down at them all, the ugliest angel Harry had ever seen, with a large bald head like a potato and rather hairy feet. They were all supposed to be listening to a Christmas broadcast by Mrs. Weasleys favorite singer, Celestina Warbeck, whose voice was warbling out of the large wooden wireless set. Fleur, who seemed to find Celestina very dull, was talking so loudly in the corner that a scowling Mrs. Weasley kept
pointing her wand at the volume con-trol, so that Celestina grew louder and louder. Under cover of a par-ticularly jazzy number called "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love," Fred and George started a game of Exploding Snap with Ginny. Ron kept shooting Bill and Fleur covert looks, as though hoping to pick up tips. Meanwhile, Remus Lupin, who was thinner and more ragged-looking than ever, was sitting beside the fire, staring into its depths as though he could not hear Celestinas voice. Oh, come and stir my cauldron, And if you do it right, I'll boil you up some hot strong love To keep you warm tonight. "We danced to this when we were eighteen!" said Mrs. Weasley, wiping her eyes on her knitting. "Do you remember, Arthur?" "Mphf?" said Mr. Weasley, whose head had been nodding over the satsuma he was peeling. "Oh yes ... marvelous tune . . ." With an effort, he sat up a little straighter and looked around at Harry, who was sitting next to him. "Sorry about this," he said, jerking his head toward the wireless as Celestina broke into the chorus. "Be over soon."
"No problem," said Harry, grinning. "Has it been busy at the Ministry?" "Very," said Mr. Weasley. "I wouldn't mind if we were getting anywhere, but of the three arrests we've made in the last couple of months, I doubt that one of them is a genuine Death Eater - only don't repeat that, Harry," he added quickly, looking much more awake all of a sudden. "They're not still holding Stan Shunpike, are they?" asked Harry. "I'm afraid so," said Mr. Weasley. "I know Dumbledore's tried appealing directly to Scrimgeour about Stan. ... I mean, anybody who has actually interviewed him agrees that he's about as much a Death Eater as this satsuma . . . but the top levels want to look as though they're making some progress, and 'three arrests' sounds better than 'three mistaken arrests and releases'. . . but again, this is all top secret. . . ." "I won't say anything," said Harry. He hesitated for a moment, wondering how best to embark on what he wanted to say; as he marshaled his thoughts, Celestina Warbeck began a ballad called "You Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me." "Mr. Weasley, you know what I told you at the station when we were setting off for school?"
"I checked, Harry," said Mr. Weasley at once. "I went and searched the Malfoys' house. There was nothing, either broken or whole, that shouldn't have been there." "Yeah, I know, I saw in the Prophet that you'd looked . . . but this is something different. . . . Well, something more ..." And he told Mr. Weasley everything he had overheard between Malfoy and Snape, As Harry spoke, he saw Lupin's head turn a lit-tle toward him, taking in every word. When he had finished, there was silence, except for Celestina's crooning. Oh, my poor heart, where has it gone? It's left me for a spell... "Has it occurred to you, Harry," said Mr. Weasley, "that Snape was simply pretending - ?" "Pretending to offer help, so that he could find out what Malfoy's up to?" said Harry quickly. "Yeah, I thought you'd say that. But how do we know?" "It isn't our business to know," said Lupin unexpectedly. He had turned his back on the fire now and faced Harry across Mr. Weasley. "It's Dumbledore's business. Dumbledore trusts Severus, and that ought to be good enough for all of us."
"But," said Harry, "just say - just say Dumbledores wrong about Snape -" "People have said it, many times. It comes down to whether or not you trust Dumbledore's judgment. I do; therefore, I trust Severus." "But Dumbledore can make mistakes," argued Harry. "He says it himself. And you" - he looked Lupin straight in the eye - "do you honestly like Snape?" "I neither like nor dislike Severus," said Lupin. "No, Harry, I am speaking the truth," he added, as Harry pulled a skeptical expres-sion. "We shall never be bosom friends, perhaps; after all that hap-pened between James and Sirius and Severus, there is too much bitterness there. But I do not forget that during the year I taught at Hogwarts, Severus made the Wolfsbane Potion for me every month, made it perfectly, so that I did not have to suffer as I usu-ally do at the full moon." "But he 'accidentally' let it slip that you're a werewolf, so you had to leave!" said Harry angrily. Lupin shrugged. "The news would have leaked out anyway. We both know he wanted my job, but he could have wreaked much worse damage on me by tampering with the potion. He kept me healthy. I must be grateful." "Maybe he didn't dare mess with the potion with Dumbledore watching him!" said Harry.
"You are determined to hate him, Harry," said Lupin with a faint smile. "And I understand; with James as your father, with Sir-ius as your godfather, you have inherited an old prejudice. By all means tell Dumbledore what you have told Arthur and me, but do not expect him to share your view of the matter; do not even expect him to be surprised by what you tell him. It might have been on Dumbledore's orders that Severus questioned Draco." ; . . . and now you've torn it quite apart I'll thank you to give back my heart! Celestina ended her song on a very long, high-pitched note and loud applause issued out of the wireless, which Mrs. Weasley joined in with enthusiastically. "Eez eet over?" said Fleur loudly. "Thank goodness, what an 'orrible -" "Shall we have a nightcap, then?" asked Mr. Weasley loudly, leaping to his feet. "Who wants eggnog?" "What have you been up to lately?" Harry asked Lupin, as Mr, Weasley bustled off to fetch the eggnog, and everybody else stretched and broke into conversation. "Oh, I've been underground," said Lupin. "Almost literally. That's why I haven't been able to write, Harry; sending letters to you would have been something of a giveaway." -:
"What do you mean?" ' "I've been living among my fellows, my equals," said Lupin. "Werewolves," he added, at Harrys look of incomprehension. "Nearly all of them are on Voldemort's side. Dumbledore wanted a spy and here I was . . . ready-made." He sounded a little bitter, and perhaps realized it, for he smiled more warmly as he went on, "I am not complaining; it is necessary work and who can do it better than I? However, it has been difficult gaining their trust. I bear the unmistakable signs of having tried to live among wizards, you see, whereas they have shunned normal society and live on the margins, stealing - and sometimes killing - to eat." "How come they like Voldemort?" "They think that, under his rule, they will have a better life," said Lupin. "And it is hard to argue with Greyback out there. . . ." "Who's Greyback?" "You haven't heard of him?" Lupin's hands closed convulsively in his lap. "Fenrir Greyback is, perhaps, the most savage werewolf alive today. He regards it as his mis