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'No, I did not, as I say, it was pitch -' She stopped and glared at him suspiciously.

"Yes," said Harry, still breathing hard.

"Yes, I think so." Harry did not say anything. His thoughts were all of water mon-sters, of giant serpents, of demons, kelpies, and sprites. . . .

Dumbledore was waiting beside the oaken front doors. He turned as Harry came skidding out on to the topmost stone step, panting hard, a searing stitch in his side.

'But he's a very good Occlumens, isn't he, sir?' said Harry, whose voice was shaking with the effort of keeping it steady. 'And isn't Voldemort convinced that Snape's on his side, even now? Professor ... how can you be sure Snape's on our side?'

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He supported Dumbledore's shoulders and again, Dumbledore drained the glass; then Harry was on his feet once more, refilling the goblet as Dumbledore began to scream in more anguish than ever, "I want to die! I want to die! Make it stop, make it stop, I want to die!"

'Harry?' said Professor Trelawney again. 'Harry - I thought we were going to see the Headmaster together?'

Harry scooped up a tenth gobletful of potion and felt the crystal scrape the bottom of the basin. "We're nearly there, Professor. Drink this, drink it. ..."

'Yes,' said Harry, 'but I haven't got a licence.'

And Harry realized, with a shock so huge it seemed to root him to the spot, that Malfoy was crying — actually crying — tears streaming down his pale face into the grimy basin. Malfoy gasped and gulped and then, with a great shudder, looked up into flu-cracked mirror and saw Harry staring at him over his shoulder.

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Harry sat in thought for a moment, then asked, "So if all of his Horcruxes are destroyed, Voldemort couldbe killed?"

'Nothing,' lied Harry promptly.

It was very well done, thought Harry, the hesitancy, the casual tone, the careful flattery, none of it overdone. He, Harry, had had too much experience of trying to wheedle information out of re-luctant people not to recognize a master at work. He could tell that Riddle wanted the information very, very much; perhaps had been working toward this moment for weeks.

"And if you do," said Harry quickly, "can I come with you and help get rid of it?"

"Aaargh, the good die young," muttered Hagrid, slumping low onto the table, a little cross-eyed, while Slughorn continued to war-ble the refrain. "Me dad was no age ter go ... nor were yer mum' an' dad, Harry . . ."

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"Harry Potter!" bellowed Hagrid, slopping some of his four-teenth bucket of wine down his chin as he drained it.

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Dumbledore did not answer. His face was twitching as though he was deeply asleep, but dreaming a horrible dream. His grip on the goblet was slackening; the potion was about to spill from it. Harry reached forward and grasped the crystal cup, holding it steady. "Professor, can you hear me?" he repeated loudly, his voice echo-ing around the cavern.

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"Sweet," said Slughorn.

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'... but then we were rudely interrupted by Severus Snape!',

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"Sir," said Harry, trying to keep his voice reasonable, "sir, this is Voldemort we're —";

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