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Loo. His Face was screwed up in concentration, but only feeble wisps of silver smoke issued from his wand tip. 'You've got to think of something happy,' Harry reminded him. 'I'm trying,' said Neville miserably, who was trying so hard his round face was actually shining with sweat. 'Harry, I think I'm doing it!' yelled Seamus, who had been brought along to his first ever DA meeting by Dean. 'Look - ah - 'it's gone... They are sort of nice, aren't they?' she said, looking at it fondly. The door of the Room of Requirement opened, and closed. Harry looked round to see who had entered, but there did not seem to be anybody there. It was a few moments before he realised that the people close to the door had fallen silent. Next thing he knew, something was tugging at his robes somewhere near the knee. He looked down and saw, to his very great astonishment, Dobby the house-elf peering up at him from beneath his usual eight woolly hats. 'Hi, Dobby!' he said. 'What are you - What's wrong?' The elf's eyes were wide with terror and he was shaking. The members of the DA closest to Harry had fallen silent; everybody in the room was watching Dobby. The few Patronuses people had managed to conjure faded away into silver mist, leaving the room looking much darker than before. 'Harry Potter, sir...' squeaked the elf, trembling from head to foot, 'Harry Potter, sir... Dobby has come to warn you... but the house-elves have been warned not to tell...' He ran head-first at the wall. Harry, who had some experience of Dobby s habits of self-punishment, made to seize him, but Dobby merely bounced off the stone, cushioned by his eight hats. 'What's happened, Dobby?' Harry asked, grabbing the elf's tiny arm and holding him away from anything with which he might seek to hurt himself. 'Harry Potter... she... she...'

oo. His Face was screwed up in concentration, but only feeble wisps of silver smoke issued from his wand tip. 'You've got to think of something happy,' Harry reminded him. 'I'm trying,' said Neville miserably, who was trying so hard his round face was actually shining with sweat. 'Harry, I think I'm doing it!' yelled Seamus, who had been brought along to his first ever DA meeting by Dean. 'Look - ah - 'it's gone... They are sort of nice, aren't they?' she said, looking at it fondly. The door of the Room of Requirement opened, and closed. Harry looked round to see who had entered, but there did not seem to be anybody there. It was a few moments before he realised that the people close to the door had fallen silent. Next thing he knew, something was tugging at his robes somewhere near the knee. He looked down and saw, to his very great astonishment, Dobby the house-elf peering up at him from beneath his usual eight woolly hats. 'Hi, Dobby!' he said. 'What are you - What's wrong?' The elf's eyes were wide with terror and he was shaking. The members of the DA closest to Harry had fallen silent; everybody in the room was watching Dobby. The few Patronuses people had managed to conjure faded away into silver mist, leaving the room looking much darker than before. 'Harry Potter, sir...' squeaked the elf, trembling from head to foot, 'Harry Potter, sir... Dobby has come to warn you... but the house-elves have been warned not to tell...' He ran head-first at the wall. Harry, who had some experience of Dobby s habits of self-punishment, made to seize him, but Dobby merely bounced off the stone, cushioned by his eight hats. 'What's happened, Dobby?' Harry asked, grabbing the elf's tiny arm and holding him away from anything with which he might seek to hurt himself. 'Harry Potter... she... she...'

Dobby hit himself hard on the nose with his free fist. Harry seized that, too. 'Who's "she", Dobby?' But he thought he knew; surely only one'she' could induce such fear in Dobby? The elf looked up at him, slightly cross-eyed, and mouthed wordlessly. 'Umbridge?' asked Harry, horrified. Dobby nodded, then tried to bang his head on Harry's knees. Harry held him at arm's length. 'What about her? Dobby - she hasn't found out about this - 'about us - about the DA?' He read the answer in the elf's stricken face. His hands held fast by Harry, the elf tried to kick himself and fell to the floor. 'Is she coming?' Harry asked quietly. Dobby let out a howl, and began beating his bare feet hard on the floor. 'Yes, Harry Potter, yes!' Harry straightened up and looked around at the motionless, terrified people gazing at the thrashing elf. 'WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?' Harry bellowed. 'RUN!' They all pelted towards the exit at once, forming a scrum at the door, then people burst through. Harry could hear them sprinting along the corridors and hoped they had the sense not to try and make it all the way to their dormitories. He scooped up Dobby, who was still attempting to do himself serious injury, and ran with the elf in his arms to join the back of the queue. 'Dobby - this is an order - get back down to the kitchen with the other elves and, if she asks you whether you warned me, lie and say no!' said Harry. 'And I forbid you to hurt yourself!' he added, dropping the elf as he made it over the threshold at last and slammed the door behind him. Thank you, Harry Potter!' squeaked Dobby, and he streaked off. Harry glanced left and right, the others were all moving so fast he :aught only glimpses of flying heels at either end of the corridor before they vanished; he started to run right; there was a

Dobby hit himself hard on the nose with his free fist. Harry seized that, too. 'Who's "she", Dobby?' But he thought he knew; surely only one'she' could induce such fear in Dobby? The elf looked up at him, slightly cross-eyed, and mouthed wordlessly. 'Umbridge?' asked Harry, horrified. Dobby nodded, then tried to bang his head on Harry's knees. Harry held him at arm's length. 'What about her? Dobby - she hasn't found out about this - 'about us - about the DA?' He read the answer in the elf's stricken face. His hands held fast by Harry, the elf tried to kick himself and fell to the floor. 'Is she coming?' Harry asked quietly. Dobby let out a howl, and began beating his bare feet hard on the floor. 'Yes, Harry Potter, yes!' Harry straightened up and looked around at the motionless, terrified people gazing at the thrashing elf. 'WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?' Harry bellowed. 'RUN!' They all pelted towards the exit at once, forming a scrum at the door, then people burst through. Harry could hear them sprinting along the corridors and hoped they had the sense not to try and make it all the way to their dormitories. He scooped up Dobby, who was still attempting to do himself serious injury, and ran with the elf in his arms to join the back of the queue. 'Dobby - this is an order - get back down to the kitchen with the other elves and, if she asks you whether you warned me, lie and say no!' said Harry. 'And I forbid you to hurt yourself!' he added, dropping the elf as he made it over the threshold at last and slammed the door behind him. Thank you, Harry Potter!' squeaked Dobby, and he streaked off. Harry glanced left and right, the others were all moving so fast he :aught only glimpses of flying heels at either end of the corridor before they vanished; he started to run right; there was a

boys' bathroom up ahead, he could pretend he'd been in there all the time if he could just reach it - ' 'AAARGH! Something caught him around the ankles and he fell spectacularly, skidding along on his front for six feet before coming to a halt. Someone behind him was laughing. He rolled over on to his, back and saw Malfoy concealed in a niche beneath an ugly dragon-shaped vase. 'Trip Jinx, Potter!' he said. 'Hey, Professor - PROFESSOR! I've got one!' Umbridge came bustling round the far corner, breathless but wearing a delighted smile. 'It's him!' she said jubilantly at the sight of Harry on the floor, 'Excellent, Draco, excellent, oh, very good - fifty points to Slytherin! I'll take him from here... stand up, Potter!' Harry got to his feet, glaring at the pair of them. He had never seen Umbridge looking so happy. She seized his arm in a vice-like grip and turned, beaming broadly, to Malfoy. 'You hop along and see if you can round up any more of them, Draco,' she said. 'Tell the others to look in the library - anybody out of breath - check the bathrooms, Miss Parkinson can do the girls' ones - off you go - and you,' she added in her softest, mos: dangerous voice, as Malfoy walked away, 'you can come with me to the Headmaster's office, Potter.' They were at the stone gargoyle within minutes. Harry wondered how many of the others had been caught... and Neville had been getting so good... 'Fizzing Whizzbee,' sang Umbridge; the stone gargoyle jumped aside, the wall behind split open, and they ascended the moving stone staircase. They reached the polished door with the griffin knocker, but Umbridge did not bother to knock, she strode straight inside, still holding tight to Harry. The office was full of people. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, his expression serene, the tips of his long fingers

' bathroom up ahead, he could pretend he'd been in there all the time if he could just reach it - ' 'AAARGH! Something caught him around the ankles and he fell spectacularly, skidding along on his front for six feet before coming to a halt. Someone behind him was laughing. He rolled over on to his, back and saw Malfoy concealed in a niche beneath an ugly dragon-shaped vase. 'Trip Jinx, Potter!' he said. 'Hey, Professor - PROFESSOR! I've got one!' Umbridge came bustling round the far corner, breathless but wearing a delighted smile. 'It's him!' she said jubilantly at the sight of Harry on the floor, 'Excellent, Draco, excellent, oh, very good - fifty points to Slytherin! I'll take him from here... stand up, Potter!' Harry got to his feet, glaring at the pair of them. He had never seen Umbridge looking so happy. She seized his arm in a vice-like grip and turned, beaming broadly, to Malfoy. 'You hop along and see if you can round up any more of them, Draco,' she said. 'Tell the others to look in the library - anybody out of breath - check the bathrooms, Miss Parkinson can do the girls' ones - off you go - and you,' she added in her softest, mos: dangerous voice, as Malfoy walked away, 'you can come with me to the Headmaster's office, Potter.' They were at the stone gargoyle within minutes. Harry wondered how many of the others had been caught... and Neville had been getting so good... 'Fizzing Whizzbee,' sang Umbridge; the stone gargoyle jumped aside, the wall behind split open, and they ascended the moving stone staircase. They reached the polished door with the griffin knocker, but Umbridge did not bother to knock, she strode straight inside, still holding tight to Harry. The office was full of people. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, his expression serene, the tips of his long fingers

together. Professor McGonagall stood rigidly beside him, her face extremely tense. Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, was rocking backwards and forwards on his toes beside the fire, apparently immensely pleased with the situation; Kingsley Shacklebolt and a tough-looking wizard with very short wiry hair whom Harry did not recognise, were positioned either side of the door like guards, and the freckled, bespectacled form of Percy Weasley hovered excitedly beside the wall, a quill and a heavy scroll of parchment in his hands, apparently poised to take notes. The portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses were not shamming sleep tonight. All of them were alert and serious, watching what was happening below them. As Harry entered, a few flitted into neighbouring frames and whispered urgently into their neighbour's ear. Harry pulled himself free of Umbridge's grasp as the door swung shut behind them. Cornelius Fudge was glaring at him with a kind of vicious satisfaction on his face. 'Well,' he said. 'Well, well, well...' Harry replied with the dirtiest look he could muster. His heart drummed madly inside him, but his brain was oddly cool and clear. 'He was heading back to Gryffindor Tower,' said Umbridge. There was an indecent excitement in her voice, the same callous pleasure Harry had heard as she watched Professor Trelawney dissolving with misery in the Entrance Hall. The Malfoy boy cornered him.' 'Did he, did he?' said Fudge appreciatively. 'I must remember to tell Lucius. Well, Potter... I expect you know why you are here?' Harry fully intended to respond with a defiant 'yes': his mouth had opened and the word was half-formed when he caught sight of Dumbledore's face. Dumbledore was not looking directly at Harry - his eyes were fixed on a point just over his shoulder - but as Harry stared at him, he shook his head a fraction of an inch to each side. Harry changed direction mid-word. 'Ye - no.' 'I beg your pardon?' said

. Professor McGonagall stood rigidly beside him, her face extremely tense. Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, was rocking backwards and forwards on his toes beside the fire, apparently immensely pleased with the situation; Kingsley Shacklebolt and a tough-looking wizard with very short wiry hair whom Harry did not recognise, were positioned either side of the door like guards, and the freckled, bespectacled form of Percy Weasley hovered excitedly beside the wall, a quill and a heavy scroll of parchment in his hands, apparently poised to take notes. The portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses were not shamming sleep tonight. All of them were alert and serious, watching what was happening below them. As Harry entered, a few flitted into neighbouring frames and whispered urgently into their neighbour's ear. Harry pulled himself free of Umbridge's grasp as the door swung shut behind them. Cornelius Fudge was glaring at him with a kind of vicious satisfaction on his face. 'Well,' he said. 'Well, well, well...' Harry replied with the dirtiest look he could muster. His heart drummed madly inside him, but his brain was oddly cool and clear. 'He was heading back to Gryffindor Tower,' said Umbridge. There was an indecent excitement in her voice, the same callous pleasure Harry had heard as she watched Professor Trelawney dissolving with misery in the Entrance Hall. The Malfoy boy cornered him.' 'Did he, did he?' said Fudge appreciatively. 'I must remember to tell Lucius. Well, Potter... I expect you know why you are here?' Harry fully intended to respond with a defiant 'yes': his mouth had opened and the word was half-formed when he caught sight of Dumbledore's face. Dumbledore was not looking directly at Harry - his eyes were fixed on a point just over his shoulder - but as Harry stared at him, he shook his head a fraction of an inch to each side. Harry changed direction mid-word. 'Ye - no.' 'I beg your pardon?' said

Fudge. 'No,' said Harry, firmly. You don t know why you are here?' 'No, I don't,' said Harry. Fudge looked incredulously from Harry to Professor Umbridge. Harry took advantage of his momentary inattention to steal another quick look at Dumbledore, who gave the carpet the tiniest of nods and the shadow of a wink. 'So you have no idea,' said Fudge, in a voice positively sagging with sarcasm, 'why Professor Umbridge has brought you to this office? You are not aware that you have broken any school rules?' 'School rules?' said Harry. 'No.' 'Or Ministry Decrees?' amended Fudge angrily. 'Not that I'm aware of,' said Harry blandly. His heart was still hammering very fast. It was almost worth telling these lies to watch Fudges blood pressure rising, but he could not see how on earth he would get away with them; if somebody had tipped off Umbridge about the DA then he, the leader, might as well be packing his trunk right now. 'So, it's news to you, is it,' said Fudge, his voice now thick with anger, 'that an illegal student organisation has been discovered within this school?' 'Yes, it is,' said Harry, hoisting an unconvincing look of innocent surprise on to his face. 'I think, Minister,' said Umbridge silkily from beside him, 'we might make better progress if I fetch our informant.' 'Yes, yes, do,' said Fudge, nodding, and he glanced maliciously at Dumbledore as Umbridge left the room. There's nothing like a good witness, is there, Dumbledore?' 'Nothing at all, Cornelius,' said Dumbledore gravely, inclining his head. There was a wait of several minutes, in which nobody looked at each other, then Harry heard the door open behind him. Umbridge moved past him into the room, gripping by the shoulder Cho's curly-haired friend, Marietta, who was hiding her face in her hands. 'Don't be scared, dear, don't be frightened,' said

udge. 'No,' said Harry, firmly. You don t know why you are here?' 'No, I don't,' said Harry. Fudge looked incredulously from Harry to Professor Umbridge. Harry took advantage of his momentary inattention to steal another quick look at Dumbledore, who gave the carpet the tiniest of nods and the shadow of a wink. 'So you have no idea,' said Fudge, in a voice positively sagging with sarcasm, 'why Professor Umbridge has brought you to this office? You are not aware that you have broken any school rules?' 'School rules?' said Harry. 'No.' 'Or Ministry Decrees?' amended Fudge angrily. 'Not that I'm aware of,' said Harry blandly. His heart was still hammering very fast. It was almost worth telling these lies to watch Fudges blood pressure rising, but he could not see how on earth he would get away with them; if somebody had tipped off Umbridge about the DA then he, the leader, might as well be packing his trunk right now. 'So, it's news to you, is it,' said Fudge, his voice now thick with anger, 'that an illegal student organisation has been discovered within this school?' 'Yes, it is,' said Harry, hoisting an unconvincing look of innocent surprise on to his face. 'I think, Minister,' said Umbridge silkily from beside him, 'we might make better progress if I fetch our informant.' 'Yes, yes, do,' said Fudge, nodding, and he glanced maliciously at Dumbledore as Umbridge left the room. There's nothing like a good witness, is there, Dumbledore?' 'Nothing at all, Cornelius,' said Dumbledore gravely, inclining his head. There was a wait of several minutes, in which nobody looked at each other, then Harry heard the door open behind him. Umbridge moved past him into the room, gripping by the shoulder Cho's curly-haired friend, Marietta, who was hiding her face in her hands. 'Don't be scared, dear, don't be frightened,' said

Professor Umbridge softly, patting her on the back, 'it's quite all right, now. You have done the right thing. The Minister is very pleased with you. He'll be telling your mother what a good girl you've been. Marietta's mother, Minister,' she added, looking up at Fudge, 'is Madam Edgecombe from the Department of Magical Transportation, Floo Network office - she's been helping us police the Hogwarts lins, you know.' 'Jolly good, jolly good!' said Fudge heartily. 'Like mother, like daughter, eh? Well, come on, now, dear, look up, don't be shy, let's hear what you've got to - galloping gargoyles!' As Marietta raised her head, Fudge leapt backwards in shock, nearly landing himself in the fire. He cursed, and stamped on the hem of his cloak which had started to smoke. Marietta gave a wail and pulled the neck of her robes right up to her eyes, but not before everyone had seen that her face was horribly disfigured by a series of close-set purple pustules that had spread across her nose and cheeks to form the word 'SNEAK'. 'Never mind the spots now, dear,' said Umbridge impatiently, 'just take your robes away from your mouth and tell the Minister - ' But Marietta gave another muffled wail and shook her head frantically. 'Oh, very well, you silly girl, I'll tell him,' snapped Umbridge. She hitched her sickly smile back on to her face and said, 'Well, Minister, Miss Edgecombe here came to my office shortly after dinner this evening and told me she had something she wanted to tell me. She said that if I proceeded to a secret room on the seventh floor, sometimes known as the Room of Requirement, I would find out something to my advantage. I questioned her a little further and she admitted that there was to be some kind of meeting there. Unfortunately, at that point this hex,' she waved impatiently at Marietta's concealed face, 'came into operation and upon catching sight of her face in my

Umbridge softly, patting her on the back, 'it's quite all right, now. You have done the right thing. The Minister is very pleased with you. He'll be telling your mother what a good girl you've been. Marietta's mother, Minister,' she added, looking up at Fudge, 'is Madam Edgecombe from the Department of Magical Transportation, Floo Network office - she's been helping us police the Hogwarts lins, you know.' 'Jolly good, jolly good!' said Fudge heartily. 'Like mother, like daughter, eh? Well, come on, now, dear, look up, don't be shy, let's hear what you've got to - galloping gargoyles!' As Marietta raised her head, Fudge leapt backwards in shock, nearly landing himself in the fire. He cursed, and stamped on the hem of his cloak which had started to smoke. Marietta gave a wail and pulled the neck of her robes right up to her eyes, but not before everyone had seen that her face was horribly disfigured by a series of close-set purple pustules that had spread across her nose and cheeks to form the word 'SNEAK'. 'Never mind the spots now, dear,' said Umbridge impatiently, 'just take your robes away from your mouth and tell the Minister - ' But Marietta gave another muffled wail and shook her head frantically. 'Oh, very well, you silly girl, I'll tell him,' snapped Umbridge. She hitched her sickly smile back on to her face and said, 'Well, Minister, Miss Edgecombe here came to my office shortly after dinner this evening and told me she had something she wanted to tell me. She said that if I proceeded to a secret room on the seventh floor, sometimes known as the Room of Requirement, I would find out something to my advantage. I questioned her a little further and she admitted that there was to be some kind of meeting there. Unfortunately, at that point this hex,' she waved impatiently at Marietta's concealed face, 'came into operation and upon catching sight of her face in my

mirror the girl became too distressed to tell me any more.' 'Well, now,' said Fudge, fixing Marietta with what he evidently imagined was a kind and fatherly look, 'it is very brave of you, my dear, coming to tell Professor Umbridge. You did exactly the right thing. Now, will you tell me what happened at this meeting? What was its purpose? Who was there?' But Marietta would not speak; she merely shook her head again, her eyes wide and fearful. 'Haven't we got a counter-jinx for this?' Fudge asked Umbridge impatiently, gesturing at Marietta's face. 'You will remember, Minister, that I sent you a report back in October that Potter had met a number of fellow students in the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade - ' 'And what is your evidence for that?' cut in Professor McGonagall 'I have testimony from Willy Widdershins, Minerva, who happened to be in the bar at the time. He was heavily bandaged, it is true, but his hearing was quite unimpaired,' said Umbridge smugly 'He heard every word Potter said and hastened straight to the school to report to me - ' 'Oh, so that's why he wasn't prosecuted for setting up all those regurgitating toilets!' said Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows. 'What an interesting insight into our justice system!' 'Blatant corruption!' roared the portrait of the corpulent, red-nosed wizard on the wall behind Dumbledore's desk. The Ministry did not cut deals with petty criminals in my day, no sir, they did not!' Thank you, Fortescue, that will do,' said Dumbledore softly. The purpose of Potters meeting with these students,' continued Professor Umbridge, 'was to persuade them to join an illegal society, whose aim was to learn spells and curses the Ministry has decided are inappropriate for school-age - ' 'I think you'll find you're wrong there, Dolores,' said Dumbledore quietly, peering at her over the half-moon spectacles perched

the girl became too distressed to tell me any more.' 'Well, now,' said Fudge, fixing Marietta with what he evidently imagined was a kind and fatherly look, 'it is very brave of you, my dear, coming to tell Professor Umbridge. You did exactly the right thing. Now, will you tell me what happened at this meeting? What was its purpose? Who was there?' But Marietta would not speak; she merely shook her head again, her eyes wide and fearful. 'Haven't we got a counter-jinx for this?' Fudge asked Umbridge impatiently, gesturing at Marietta's face. 'You will remember, Minister, that I sent you a report back in October that Potter had met a number of fellow students in the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade - ' 'And what is your evidence for that?' cut in Professor McGonagall 'I have testimony from Willy Widdershins, Minerva, who happened to be in the bar at the time. He was heavily bandaged, it is true, but his hearing was quite unimpaired,' said Umbridge smugly 'He heard every word Potter said and hastened straight to the school to report to me - ' 'Oh, so that's why he wasn't prosecuted for setting up all those regurgitating toilets!' said Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows. 'What an interesting insight into our justice system!' 'Blatant corruption!' roared the portrait of the corpulent, red-nosed wizard on the wall behind Dumbledore's desk. The Ministry did not cut deals with petty criminals in my day, no sir, they did not!' Thank you, Fortescue, that will do,' said Dumbledore softly. The purpose of Potters meeting with these students,' continued Professor Umbridge, 'was to persuade them to join an illegal society, whose aim was to learn spells and curses the Ministry has decided are inappropriate for school-age - ' 'I think you'll find you're wrong there, Dolores,' said Dumbledore quietly, peering at her over the half-moon spectacles perched

halfway down his crooked nose. Harry stared at him. He could not see how Dumbledore was going to talk him out of this one; if Willy Widdershins had indeed heard every word he had said in the Hog's Head there was simply no escaping it. 'Oho!' said Fudge, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet again. 'Yes, do let's hear the latest cock-and-bull story designed to pull Potter out of trouble! Go on, then, Dumbledore, go on - ' Willy Widdershins was lying, was he? Or was it Potter's identical twin in the Hog's Head that day? Or is there the usual simple explanation involving a reversal of time, a dead man coming back to life and a couple of invisible Dementors?' Percy Weasley let out a hearty laugh. 'Oh, very good, Minister, very good!' Harry could have kicked him. Then he saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore was smiling gently, too. 'Cornelius, I do not deny - and nor, I am sure, does Harry - 'that he was in the Hog's Head that day, nor that he was trying to recruit students to a Defence Against the Dark Arts group. I am merely pointing out that Dolores is quite wrong to suggest that such a group was, at that time, illegal. If you remember, the Ministry Decree banning all student societies was not put into effect until two days after Harry's Hogsmeade meeting, so he was not breaking any rules at all in the Hog's Head.' Percy looked as though he had been struck in the face by something very heavy. Fudge remained motionless in mid-bounce, his mouth hanging open. Umbridge recovered first. That's all very fine, Headmaster,' she said, smiling sweetly, 'but we are now nearly six months on from the introduction of Educational Decree Number Twenty-four. If the first meeting was not illegal, all those that have happened since most certainly are.' 'Well,' said Dumbledore, surveying her with polite interest over the top of his interlocked fingers, 'they certainly would be,

way down his crooked nose. Harry stared at him. He could not see how Dumbledore was going to talk him out of this one; if Willy Widdershins had indeed heard every word he had said in the Hog's Head there was simply no escaping it. 'Oho!' said Fudge, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet again. 'Yes, do let's hear the latest cock-and-bull story designed to pull Potter out of trouble! Go on, then, Dumbledore, go on - ' Willy Widdershins was lying, was he? Or was it Potter's identical twin in the Hog's Head that day? Or is there the usual simple explanation involving a reversal of time, a dead man coming back to life and a couple of invisible Dementors?' Percy Weasley let out a hearty laugh. 'Oh, very good, Minister, very good!' Harry could have kicked him. Then he saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore was smiling gently, too. 'Cornelius, I do not deny - and nor, I am sure, does Harry - 'that he was in the Hog's Head that day, nor that he was trying to recruit students to a Defence Against the Dark Arts group. I am merely pointing out that Dolores is quite wrong to suggest that such a group was, at that time, illegal. If you remember, the Ministry Decree banning all student societies was not put into effect until two days after Harry's Hogsmeade meeting, so he was not breaking any rules at all in the Hog's Head.' Percy looked as though he had been struck in the face by something very heavy. Fudge remained motionless in mid-bounce, his mouth hanging open. Umbridge recovered first. That's all very fine, Headmaster,' she said, smiling sweetly, 'but we are now nearly six months on from the introduction of Educational Decree Number Twenty-four. If the first meeting was not illegal, all those that have happened since most certainly are.' 'Well,' said Dumbledore, surveying her with polite interest over the top of his interlocked fingers, 'they certainly would be,

if they had continued after the Decree came into effect. Do you have any evidence that any such meetings continued?' As Dumbledore spoke, Harry heard a rustle behind him and rather thought Kingsley whispered something. He could have sworn, too, that he felt something brush against his side, a gentle something like a draught or bird wings, but looking down he saw nothing there. 'Evidence?' repeated Umbridge, with that horrible wide toad-like smile. 'Have you not been listening, Dumbledore? Why do you think Miss Edgecombe is here?' 'Oh, can she tell us about six months' worth of meetings?' said Dumbledore, raising his eyebrows. 'I was under the impression that she was merely reporting a meeting tonight.' 'Miss Edgecombe,' said Umbridge at once, 'tell us how long these meetings have been going on, dear. You can simply nod or shake your head, I'm sure that won't make the spots worse. Have they been happening regularly over the last six months?' Harry felt a horrible plummeting in his stomach. This was it, they had hit a dead end of solid evidence that not even Dumbledore would be able to shift aside. 'Just nod or shake your head, dear,' Umbridge said coaxingly to Marietta, 'come on, now, that won't re-activate the jinx.' Everyone in the room was gazing at the top of Marietta's face. Only her eyes were visible between the pulled-up robes and her curly fringe. Perhaps it was a trick of the firelight, but her eyes looked oddly blank. And then - to Harry's utter amazement - 'Marietta shook her head. Umbridge looked quickly at Fudge, then back at Marietta. 'I don't think you understood the question, did you, dear? I'm asking whether you've been going to these meetings for the past six months? You have, haven't you?' Again, Marietta shook her head. 'What do you mean by shaking your head, dear?' said Umbridge in a testy voice. 'I would have thought her meaning was quite clear,' said Professor McG

they had continued after the Decree came into effect. Do you have any evidence that any such meetings continued?' As Dumbledore spoke, Harry heard a rustle behind him and rather thought Kingsley whispered something. He could have sworn, too, that he felt something brush against his side, a gentle something like a draught or bird wings, but looking down he saw nothing there. 'Evidence?' repeated Umbridge, with that horrible wide toad-like smile. 'Have you not been listening, Dumbledore? Why do you think Miss Edgecombe is here?' 'Oh, can she tell us about six months' worth of meetings?' said Dumbledore, raising his eyebrows. 'I was under the impression that she was merely reporting a meeting tonight.' 'Miss Edgecombe,' said Umbridge at once, 'tell us how long these meetings have been going on, dear. You can simply nod or shake your head, I'm sure that won't make the spots worse. Have they been happening regularly over the last six months?' Harry felt a horrible plummeting in his stomach. This was it, they had hit a dead end of solid evidence that not even Dumbledore would be able to shift aside. 'Just nod or shake your head, dear,' Umbridge said coaxingly to Marietta, 'come on, now, that won't re-activate the jinx.' Everyone in the room was gazing at the top of Marietta's face. Only her eyes were visible between the pulled-up robes and her curly fringe. Perhaps it was a trick of the firelight, but her eyes looked oddly blank. And then - to Harry's utter amazement - 'Marietta shook her head. Umbridge looked quickly at Fudge, then back at Marietta. 'I don't think you understood the question, did you, dear? I'm asking whether you've been going to these meetings for the past six months? You have, haven't you?' Again, Marietta shook her head. 'What do you mean by shaking your head, dear?' said Umbridge in a testy voice. 'I would have thought her meaning was quite clear,' said Professor McG

onagall harshly, 'there have been no secret meetings for the past six months. Is that correct, Miss Edgecombe?' Marietta nodded. 'But there was a meeting tonight!' said Umbridge furiously. There was a meeting, Miss Edgecombe, you told me about it, in the Room of Requirement! And Potter was the leader, was he not, Potter organised it, Potter - why are you shaking your head, girl?' 'Well, usually when a person shakes their head,' said McGonagall coldly, 'they mean "no". So unless Miss Edgecombe is using a form of sign-language as yet unknown to humans - ' Professor Umbridge seized Marietta, pulled her round to face her and began shaking her very hard. A split second later Dumbledore was on his feet, his wand raised; Kingsley started forwards and Umbridge leapt back from Marietta, waving her hands in the air as though they had been burned. 'I cannot allow you to manhandle my students, Dolores,' said Dumbledore and, for the first time, he looked angry. 'You want to calm yourself, Madam Umbridge,' said Kingsley, in his deep, slow voice. 'You don't want to get yourself into trouble, now.' 'No,' said Umbridge breathlessly, glancing up at the towering figure of Kingsley. 'I mean, yes - you're right, Shacklebolt - I - I forgot myself.' Marietta was standing exactly where Umbridge had released her. She seemed neither perturbed by Umbridge's sudden attack, nor relieved by her release; she was still clutching her robe up to her oddly blank eyes and staring straight ahead of her. A sudden suspicion, connected to Kingsley's whisper and the thing he had felt shoot past him, sprang into Harry's mind. 'Dolores,' said Fudge, with the air of trying to settle something once and for all, 'the meeting tonight - the one we know definitely happened - ' 'Yes,' said Umbridge, pulling herself together, 'yes... well, Miss Edgecombe tipped me off and I proceeded at once to the seventh floor, accompanied by

agall harshly, 'there have been no secret meetings for the past six months. Is that correct, Miss Edgecombe?' Marietta nodded. 'But there was a meeting tonight!' said Umbridge furiously. There was a meeting, Miss Edgecombe, you told me about it, in the Room of Requirement! And Potter was the leader, was he not, Potter organised it, Potter - why are you shaking your head, girl?' 'Well, usually when a person shakes their head,' said McGonagall coldly, 'they mean "no". So unless Miss Edgecombe is using a form of sign-language as yet unknown to humans - ' Professor Umbridge seized Marietta, pulled her round to face her and began shaking her very hard. A split second later Dumbledore was on his feet, his wand raised; Kingsley started forwards and Umbridge leapt back from Marietta, waving her hands in the air as though they had been burned. 'I cannot allow you to manhandle my students, Dolores,' said Dumbledore and, for the first time, he looked angry. 'You want to calm yourself, Madam Umbridge,' said Kingsley, in his deep, slow voice. 'You don't want to get yourself into trouble, now.' 'No,' said Umbridge breathlessly, glancing up at the towering figure of Kingsley. 'I mean, yes - you're right, Shacklebolt - I - I forgot myself.' Marietta was standing exactly where Umbridge had released her. She seemed neither perturbed by Umbridge's sudden attack, nor relieved by her release; she was still clutching her robe up to her oddly blank eyes and staring straight ahead of her. A sudden suspicion, connected to Kingsley's whisper and the thing he had felt shoot past him, sprang into Harry's mind. 'Dolores,' said Fudge, with the air of trying to settle something once and for all, 'the meeting tonight - the one we know definitely happened - ' 'Yes,' said Umbridge, pulling herself together, 'yes... well, Miss Edgecombe tipped me off and I proceeded at once to the seventh floor, accompanied by

certain trustworthy students, so as to catch those in the meeting red-handed. It appears that they were forewarned of my arrival, however, because when we reached the seventh floor they were running in every direction. It does not matter, however. I have all their names here, Miss Parkinson ran into the Room of Requirement for me to see if they had left anything behind. We needed evidence and the room provided.' And to Harry's horror, she withdrew from her pocket the list of names that had been pinned upon the Room of Requirement's wall and handed it to Fudge. The moment I saw Potter's name on the list, I knew what we were dealing with,' she said softly. 'Excellent,' said Fudge, a smile spreading across his face, 'excellent, Dolores. And... by thunder...' He looked up at Dumbledore, who was still standing beside Marietta, his wand held loosely in his hand. 'See what they've named themselves?' said Fudge quietly. 'Dumbledore's Army.' Dumbledore reached out and took the piece of parchment from Fudge. Then he looked up, smiling. 'Well, the game is up,' he said simply. 'Would you like a written confession from me, Cornelius - or will a statement before these witnesses suffice?' Harry saw McGonagall and Kingsley look at each other. There was fear in both faces. He did not understand what was going on, and nor, apparently, did Fudge. 'Statement?' said Fudge slowly. 'What - I don't -?' 'Dumbledore's Army, Cornelius,' said Dumbledore, still smiling as he waved the list of names before Fudge's face. 'Not Potter's Army. Dumbledore's Army.' 'But - but - ' Understanding blazed suddenly in Fudge's face. He took a horrified step backwards, yelped, and jumped out of the fire again. 'You?' he whispered, stamping again on his smouldering cloak. That's right,' said Dumbledore ple

trustworthy students, so as to catch those in the meeting red-handed. It appears that they were forewarned of my arrival, however, because when we reached the seventh floor they were running in every direction. It does not matter, however. I have all their names here, Miss Parkinson ran into the Room of Requirement for me to see if they had left anything behind. We needed evidence and the room provided.' And to Harry's horror, she withdrew from her pocket the list of names that had been pinned upon the Room of Requirement's wall and handed it to Fudge. The moment I saw Potter's name on the list, I knew what we were dealing with,' she said softly. 'Excellent,' said Fudge, a smile spreading across his face, 'excellent, Dolores. And... by thunder...' He looked up at Dumbledore, who was still standing beside Marietta, his wand held loosely in his hand. 'See what they've named themselves?' said Fudge quietly. 'Dumbledore's Army.' Dumbledore reached out and took the piece of parchment from Fudge. Then he looked up, smiling. 'Well, the game is up,' he said simply. 'Would you like a written confession from me, Cornelius - or will a statement before these witnesses suffice?' Harry saw McGonagall and Kingsley look at each other. There was fear in both faces. He did not understand what was going on, and nor, apparently, did Fudge. 'Statement?' said Fudge slowly. 'What - I don't -?' 'Dumbledore's Army, Cornelius,' said Dumbledore, still smiling as he waved the list of names before Fudge's face. 'Not Potter's Army. Dumbledore's Army.' 'But - but - ' Understanding blazed suddenly in Fudge's face. He took a horrified step backwards, yelped, and jumped out of the fire again. 'You?' he whispered, stamping again on his smouldering cloak. That's right,' said Dumbledore ple

asantly. 'You organised this?' 'I did,' said Dumbledore. 'You recruited these students for - for your army?' 'Tonight was supposed to be the first meeting,' said Dumbledore, nodding. 'Merely to see whether they would be interested in joining me. I see now that it was a mistake to invite Miss Edgecombe, of course.' Marietta nodded. Fudge looked from her to Dumbledore, his chest swelling. Then you have been plotting against me!' he yelled. That's right,' said Dumbledore cheerfully. 'NO!' shouted Harry. Kingsley flashed a look of warning at him, McGonagall widened her eyes threateningly, but it had suddenly dawned on Harry what Dumbledore was about to do, and he could not let it happen. 'No - Professor Dumbledore - '!' 'Be quiet, Harry, or I am afraid you will have to leave my office,' said Dumbledore calmly. 'Yes, shut up, Potter!' barked Fudge, who was still ogling Dumbledore with a kind of horrified delight. 'Well, well, well - I came here tonight expecting to expel Potter and instead - ' 'Instead you get to arrest me,' said Dumbledore, smiling. 'It's like losing a Knut and finding a Galleon, isn't it?' 'Weasley!' cried Fudge, now positively quivering with delight, 'Weasley, have you written it all down, everything he's said, his confession, have you got it?' 'Yes, sir, I think so, sir!' said Percy eagerly, whose nose was splattered with ink from the speed of his note-taking. The bit about how he's been trying to build up an army against the Ministry, how he's been working to destabilise me?' 'Yes, sir, I've got it, yes!' said Percy, scanning his notes joyfully. 'Very well, then,' said Fudge, now radiant with glee, 'duplicate your notes, Weasley, and send a copy to the

antly. 'You organised this?' 'I did,' said Dumbledore. 'You recruited these students for - for your army?' 'Tonight was supposed to be the first meeting,' said Dumbledore, nodding. 'Merely to see whether they would be interested in joining me. I see now that it was a mistake to invite Miss Edgecombe, of course.' Marietta nodded. Fudge looked from her to Dumbledore, his chest swelling. Then you have been plotting against me!' he yelled. That's right,' said Dumbledore cheerfully. 'NO!' shouted Harry. Kingsley flashed a look of warning at him, McGonagall widened her eyes threateningly, but it had suddenly dawned on Harry what Dumbledore was about to do, and he could not let it happen. 'No - Professor Dumbledore - '!' 'Be quiet, Harry, or I am afraid you will have to leave my office,' said Dumbledore calmly. 'Yes, shut up, Potter!' barked Fudge, who was still ogling Dumbledore with a kind of horrified delight. 'Well, well, well - I came here tonight expecting to expel Potter and instead - ' 'Instead you get to arrest me,' said Dumbledore, smiling. 'It's like losing a Knut and finding a Galleon, isn't it?' 'Weasley!' cried Fudge, now positively quivering with delight, 'Weasley, have you written it all down, everything he's said, his confession, have you got it?' 'Yes, sir, I think so, sir!' said Percy eagerly, whose nose was splattered with ink from the speed of his note-taking. The bit about how he's been trying to build up an army against the Ministry, how he's been working to destabilise me?' 'Yes, sir, I've got it, yes!' said Percy, scanning his notes joyfully. 'Very well, then,' said Fudge, now radiant with glee, 'duplicate your notes, Weasley, and send a copy to the

Daily Prophet at once. If we send a fast owl we should make the morning edition!' Percy dashed from the room, slamming the door behind him, and Fudge turned back to Dumbledore. 'You will now be escorted back to the Ministry, where you will be formally charged, then sent to Azkaban to await trial!' 'Ah,' said Dumbledore gently, 'yes. Yes, I thought we might hit that little snag.' 'Snag?' said Fudge, his voice still vibrating with joy. 'I see no snag, Dumbledore!' Well,' said Dumbledore apologetically, 'I'm afraid I do.' 'Oh, really?' Well - it's just that you seem to be labouring under the delusion that I am going to - what is the phrase? - come quietly. I am afraid I am not going to come quietly at all, Cornelius. I have absolutely no intention of being sent to Azkaban. I could break out, of course - but what a waste of time, and frankly, I can think of a whole host of things I would rather be doing.' Umbridge's face was growing steadily redder; she looked as though she was being filled with boiling water. Fudge stared at Dumbledore with a very silly expression on his face, as though he had just been stunned by a sudden blow and could not quite believe it had happened. He made a small choking noise, then looked round at Kingsley and the man with short grey hair, who alone of everyone in the room had remained entirely silent so fa;-. The latter gave Fudge a reassuring nod and moved forwards a little, away from the wall. Harry saw his hand drift, almost casually, towards his pocket. 'Don't be silly, Dawlish,' said Dumbledore kindly. 'I'm sure you are an excellent Auror - I seem to remember that you achieved "Outstanding" in all your NEWTs - but if you attempt to - er - 'bring me in by force, I will have to hurt you.' The man called Dawlish blinked rather foolishly. He looked towards Fudge again, but this time seemed to be hoping for a clue as to what to do next

Prophet at once. If we send a fast owl we should make the morning edition!' Percy dashed from the room, slamming the door behind him, and Fudge turned back to Dumbledore. 'You will now be escorted back to the Ministry, where you will be formally charged, then sent to Azkaban to await trial!' 'Ah,' said Dumbledore gently, 'yes. Yes, I thought we might hit that little snag.' 'Snag?' said Fudge, his voice still vibrating with joy. 'I see no snag, Dumbledore!' Well,' said Dumbledore apologetically, 'I'm afraid I do.' 'Oh, really?' Well - it's just that you seem to be labouring under the delusion that I am going to - what is the phrase? - come quietly. I am afraid I am not going to come quietly at all, Cornelius. I have absolutely no intention of being sent to Azkaban. I could break out, of course - but what a waste of time, and frankly, I can think of a whole host of things I would rather be doing.' Umbridge's face was growing steadily redder; she looked as though she was being filled with boiling water. Fudge stared at Dumbledore with a very silly expression on his face, as though he had just been stunned by a sudden blow and could not quite believe it had happened. He made a small choking noise, then looked round at Kingsley and the man with short grey hair, who alone of everyone in the room had remained entirely silent so fa;-. The latter gave Fudge a reassuring nod and moved forwards a little, away from the wall. Harry saw his hand drift, almost casually, towards his pocket. 'Don't be silly, Dawlish,' said Dumbledore kindly. 'I'm sure you are an excellent Auror - I seem to remember that you achieved "Outstanding" in all your NEWTs - but if you attempt to - er - 'bring me in by force, I will have to hurt you.' The man called Dawlish blinked rather foolishly. He looked towards Fudge again, but this time seemed to be hoping for a clue as to what to do next

. 'So,' sneered Fudge, recovering himself, 'you intend to take on Dawlish, Shacklebolt, Dolores and myself single-handed, do you, Dumbledore?' 'Merlin's beard, no,' said Dumbledore, smiling, 'not unless you are foolish enough to force me to.' 'He will not be single-handed!' said Professor McGonagall loudly, plunging her hand inside her robes. 'Oh yes he will, Minerva!' said Dumbledore sharply. 'Hogwar.s needs you!' 'Enough of this rubbish!' said Fudge, pulling out his own wand. 'Dawlish! Shacklebolt! Take him!' A streak of silver light flashed around the room; there was a bang like a gunshot and the floor trembled; a hand grabbed the scruff of Harry's neck and forced him down on the floor as a second silver flash went off; several of the portraits yelled, Fawkes screeched and a cloud of dust filled the air. Coughing in the dust, Harry saw a dark figure fall to the ground with a crash in front of him; there was a shriek and a thud and somebody cried, 'No!'; then there was the sound of breaking glass, frantically scuffling footsteps, a groan... and silence. Harry struggled around to see who was half-strangling him and saw Professor McGonagall crouched beside him; she had forced both him and Marietta out of harm's way. Dust was still floating gently down through the air on to them. Panting slightly, Harry saw a very tall figure moving towards them. 'Are you all right?' Dumbledore asked. 'Yes!' said Professor McGonagall, getting up and dragging Harry and Marietta with her. The dust was clearing. The wreckage of the office loomed into view: Dumbledore's desk had been overturned, all of the spindly tables had been knocked to the floor, their silver instruments in pieces. Fudge, Umbridge, Kingsley and Dawlish lay motionless on the floor. Fawkes the pho

'So,' sneered Fudge, recovering himself, 'you intend to take on Dawlish, Shacklebolt, Dolores and myself single-handed, do you, Dumbledore?' 'Merlin's beard, no,' said Dumbledore, smiling, 'not unless you are foolish enough to force me to.' 'He will not be single-handed!' said Professor McGonagall loudly, plunging her hand inside her robes. 'Oh yes he will, Minerva!' said Dumbledore sharply. 'Hogwar.s needs you!' 'Enough of this rubbish!' said Fudge, pulling out his own wand. 'Dawlish! Shacklebolt! Take him!' A streak of silver light flashed around the room; there was a bang like a gunshot and the floor trembled; a hand grabbed the scruff of Harry's neck and forced him down on the floor as a second silver flash went off; several of the portraits yelled, Fawkes screeched and a cloud of dust filled the air. Coughing in the dust, Harry saw a dark figure fall to the ground with a crash in front of him; there was a shriek and a thud and somebody cried, 'No!'; then there was the sound of breaking glass, frantically scuffling footsteps, a groan... and silence. Harry struggled around to see who was half-strangling him and saw Professor McGonagall crouched beside him; she had forced both him and Marietta out of harm's way. Dust was still floating gently down through the air on to them. Panting slightly, Harry saw a very tall figure moving towards them. 'Are you all right?' Dumbledore asked. 'Yes!' said Professor McGonagall, getting up and dragging Harry and Marietta with her. The dust was clearing. The wreckage of the office loomed into view: Dumbledore's desk had been overturned, all of the spindly tables had been knocked to the floor, their silver instruments in pieces. Fudge, Umbridge, Kingsley and Dawlish lay motionless on the floor. Fawkes the pho

enix soared in wide circles above them, singing softly. 'Unfortunately, I had to hex Kingsley too, or it would have looked very suspicious,' said Dumbledore in a low voice. 'He was remarkably quick on the uptake, modifying Miss Edgecombe's memory like that while everyone was looking the other way - thank him, for me, won't you, Minerva? 'Now, they will all awake very soon and it will be best if they do not know that we had time to communicate - you must act as though no time has passed, as though they were merely knocked to the ground, they will not remember - ' 'Where will you go, Dumbledore?' whispered Professor McGonagall. 'Grimmauld Place?' 'Oh no,' said Dumbledore, with a grim smile, 'I am not leaving to go into hiding. Fudge will soon wish he'd never dislodged me from Hogwarts, I promise you.' 'Professor Dumbledore...' Harry began. He did not know what to say first: how sorry he was that he had started the DA in the first place and caused all this trouble, or how terrible he felt that Dumbledore was leaving to save him from expulsion? But Dumbledore cut him off before he could say another word. 'Listen to me, Harry,' he said urgently. 'You must study Occlumency as hard as you can, do you understand me? Do everything Professor Snape tells you and practise it particularly every night before sleeping so that you can close your mind to bad dreams - you will understand why soon enough, but you must promise me - ' The man called Dawlish was stirring. Dumbledore seized Harry's wrist. 'Remember - close your mind - ' But as Dumbledore's fingers closed over Harry's skin, a pa n shot through the scar on his forehead and he felt again that terrible, snakelike longing to strike Dumbledore, to bite him, to hurt him - ' '- you will understand,' whispered Dumbledore. Fawkes circled the office and swooped low over him. Dumbledore released Harry, raised his hand and grasped the phoenix's

soared in wide circles above them, singing softly. 'Unfortunately, I had to hex Kingsley too, or it would have looked very suspicious,' said Dumbledore in a low voice. 'He was remarkably quick on the uptake, modifying Miss Edgecombe's memory like that while everyone was looking the other way - thank him, for me, won't you, Minerva? 'Now, they will all awake very soon and it will be best if they do not know that we had time to communicate - you must act as though no time has passed, as though they were merely knocked to the ground, they will not remember - ' 'Where will you go, Dumbledore?' whispered Professor McGonagall. 'Grimmauld Place?' 'Oh no,' said Dumbledore, with a grim smile, 'I am not leaving to go into hiding. Fudge will soon wish he'd never dislodged me from Hogwarts, I promise you.' 'Professor Dumbledore...' Harry began. He did not know what to say first: how sorry he was that he had started the DA in the first place and caused all this trouble, or how terrible he felt that Dumbledore was leaving to save him from expulsion? But Dumbledore cut him off before he could say another word. 'Listen to me, Harry,' he said urgently. 'You must study Occlumency as hard as you can, do you understand me? Do everything Professor Snape tells you and practise it particularly every night before sleeping so that you can close your mind to bad dreams - you will understand why soon enough, but you must promise me - ' The man called Dawlish was stirring. Dumbledore seized Harry's wrist. 'Remember - close your mind - ' But as Dumbledore's fingers closed over Harry's skin, a pa n shot through the scar on his forehead and he felt again that terrible, snakelike longing to strike Dumbledore, to bite him, to hurt him - ' '- you will understand,' whispered Dumbledore. Fawkes circled the office and swooped low over him. Dumbledore released Harry, raised his hand and grasped the phoenix's

long golden tail. There was a flash of fire and the pair of them were gone. 'Where is he?' yelled Fudge, pushing himself up from the floor. 'Where is he?' 'I don't know!' shouted Kingsley, also leaping to his feet. 'Well, he can't have Disapparated!' cried Umbridge. 'You can't do it from inside this school - ' The stairs!' cried Dawlish, and he flung himself upon the door, wrenched it open and disappeared, followed closely by Kingsley and Umbridge. Fudge hesitated, then got slowly to his feet, brushing dust from his front. There was a long and painful silence. 'Well, Minerva,' said Fudge nastily, straightening his torn shirtsleeve, 'I'm afraid this is the end of your friend Dumbledore.' 'You think so, do you?' said Professor McGonagall scornfully. Fudge seemed not to hear her. He was looking around at the wrecked office. A few of the portraits hissed at him; one or two even made rude hand gestures. 'You'd better get those two off to bed,' said Fudge, looking back at Professor McGonagall with a dismissive nod towards Harry and Marietta. Professor McGonagall said nothing, but marched Harry and Marietta to the door. As it swung closed behind them, Harry heard Phineas Nigellus's voice. 'You know, Minister, I disagree with Dumbledore on many counts... but you cannot deny he's got style...' - CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - Snapes Worst Memory BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-eight. Signed: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic The notices had gone up all around the school overnight, but they did not explain how every single person within the castle seemed to know that D

golden tail. There was a flash of fire and the pair of them were gone. 'Where is he?' yelled Fudge, pushing himself up from the floor. 'Where is he?' 'I don't know!' shouted Kingsley, also leaping to his feet. 'Well, he can't have Disapparated!' cried Umbridge. 'You can't do it from inside this school - ' The stairs!' cried Dawlish, and he flung himself upon the door, wrenched it open and disappeared, followed closely by Kingsley and Umbridge. Fudge hesitated, then got slowly to his feet, brushing dust from his front. There was a long and painful silence. 'Well, Minerva,' said Fudge nastily, straightening his torn shirtsleeve, 'I'm afraid this is the end of your friend Dumbledore.' 'You think so, do you?' said Professor McGonagall scornfully. Fudge seemed not to hear her. He was looking around at the wrecked office. A few of the portraits hissed at him; one or two even made rude hand gestures. 'You'd better get those two off to bed,' said Fudge, looking back at Professor McGonagall with a dismissive nod towards Harry and Marietta. Professor McGonagall said nothing, but marched Harry and Marietta to the door. As it swung closed behind them, Harry heard Phineas Nigellus's voice. 'You know, Minister, I disagree with Dumbledore on many counts... but you cannot deny he's got style...' - CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - Snapes Worst Memory BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-eight. Signed: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic The notices had gone up all around the school overnight, but they did not explain how every single person within the castle seemed to know that D

umbledore had overcome two Aurors, the High Inquisitor, the Minister for Magic and his Junior Assistant to escape. No matter where Harry went within the castle, the sole topic of conversation was Dumbledore's flight, and though some of the details may have gone awry in the retelling (Harry overheard one second-year girl assuring another that Fudge was now lying in St Mungo's with a pumpkin for a head) it was surprising how accurate the rest of their information was. Everybody knew, for instance, that Harry and Marietta were the only students to have witnessed the scene in Dumbledore's office and, as Marietta was now in the hospital wing, Harry found himself besieged with requests to give a first-hand account. 'Dumbledore will be back before long,' said Ernie Macmillan confidently on the way back from Herbology, after listening intently to Harry's story. They couldn't keep him away in our second year and they won't be able to this time. The Fat Friar told me -'he dropped his voice conspiratorially, so that Harry, Ron had to lean closer to him to hear '- that Umbridge tried to get back into his office last night after they'd searched the castle and grounds for him. Couldn't get past the gargoyle. The Head's office has sealed itself against her.' Ernie smirked. His pale, pointed face was alight w th malice. 'Afraid I'm going to have to dock a few points from Gryffincor and Hufflepuff,' he drawled. 'It's only teachers who can dock points from houses, Malfoy,' said Ernie at once. 'Yeah, we're prefects, too, remember?' snarled Ron. 'I know prefects can't dock points, Weasel King,' sneered Maltby. Crabbe and Goyle sniggered. 'A select group of students who are supportive of the Ministry of Magic, hand-picked by Professor Umbridge. Anyway, members of the Inquisitorial Squad do have the power to dock points... Macmillan, five for contradicting me. Five because I don't like you, Potter. Weasley

ore had overcome two Aurors, the High Inquisitor, the Minister for Magic and his Junior Assistant to escape. No matter where Harry went within the castle, the sole topic of conversation was Dumbledore's flight, and though some of the details may have gone awry in the retelling (Harry overheard one second-year girl assuring another that Fudge was now lying in St Mungo's with a pumpkin for a head) it was surprising how accurate the rest of their information was. Everybody knew, for instance, that Harry and Marietta were the only students to have witnessed the scene in Dumbledore's office and, as Marietta was now in the hospital wing, Harry found himself besieged with requests to give a first-hand account. 'Dumbledore will be back before long,' said Ernie Macmillan confidently on the way back from Herbology, after listening intently to Harry's story. They couldn't keep him away in our second year and they won't be able to this time. The Fat Friar told me -'he dropped his voice conspiratorially, so that Harry, Ron had to lean closer to him to hear '- that Umbridge tried to get back into his office last night after they'd searched the castle and grounds for him. Couldn't get past the gargoyle. The Head's office has sealed itself against her.' Ernie smirked. His pale, pointed face was alight w th malice. 'Afraid I'm going to have to dock a few points from Gryffincor and Hufflepuff,' he drawled. 'It's only teachers who can dock points from houses, Malfoy,' said Ernie at once. 'Yeah, we're prefects, too, remember?' snarled Ron. 'I know prefects can't dock points, Weasel King,' sneered Maltby. Crabbe and Goyle sniggered. 'A select group of students who are supportive of the Ministry of Magic, hand-picked by Professor Umbridge. Anyway, members of the Inquisitorial Squad do have the power to dock points... Macmillan, five for contradicting me. Five because I don't like you, Potter. Weasley

, your shirt's untucked, so I'll have another five for that. 'New Head, new times... be good now, Potty... Weasel King...' Laughing heartily, he strode away with Crabbe and Goyle. 'He was bluffing,' said Ernie, looking appalled. 'He can't be allowed to dock points... that would be ridiculous... it would completely undermine the prefect system.' But Harry, Ron had turned automatically towards the giant hour-glasses set in niches along the wall behind them, which recorded the house-points. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had been neck and neck in the lead that morning. Even as they watched, stones flew upwards, reducing the amounts in the lower bulbs. In fact, the only glass that seemed unchanged was the emerald-filled one of Slytherin. 'Noticed, have you?' said Fred's voice. 'Malfoy just docked us all about fifty points,' said Harry furiously, as they watched several more stones fly upwards from the Gryffindor hour-glass. 'Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break,' said George. 'What do you mean, "tried"?' said Ron quickly. 'But you'll get into terrible trouble!' 'Not until Montague reappears, and that could take weeks, I dunno where we sent him,' said Fred coolly. 'Anyway... 'Course we have,' said George. 'Never been expelled, have we?' 'We've always known where to draw the line,' said Fred. We might have put a toe across it occasionally,' said George. 'But we've always stopped short of causing real mayhem,' said Fred. 'But now?' said Ron tentatively. 'Well, now -' said George. '- what with Dumbledore gone -'said Fred. '- we reckon a bit of mayhem -'said George. '- is exactly what our dear new Head deserves,' said Fred. 'You really mustn't! 'We don't care about staying any more. We'd walk out right now if we

your shirt's untucked, so I'll have another five for that. 'New Head, new times... be good now, Potty... Weasel King...' Laughing heartily, he strode away with Crabbe and Goyle. 'He was bluffing,' said Ernie, looking appalled. 'He can't be allowed to dock points... that would be ridiculous... it would completely undermine the prefect system.' But Harry, Ron had turned automatically towards the giant hour-glasses set in niches along the wall behind them, which recorded the house-points. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had been neck and neck in the lead that morning. Even as they watched, stones flew upwards, reducing the amounts in the lower bulbs. In fact, the only glass that seemed unchanged was the emerald-filled one of Slytherin. 'Noticed, have you?' said Fred's voice. 'Malfoy just docked us all about fifty points,' said Harry furiously, as they watched several more stones fly upwards from the Gryffindor hour-glass. 'Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break,' said George. 'What do you mean, "tried"?' said Ron quickly. 'But you'll get into terrible trouble!' 'Not until Montague reappears, and that could take weeks, I dunno where we sent him,' said Fred coolly. 'Anyway... 'Course we have,' said George. 'Never been expelled, have we?' 'We've always known where to draw the line,' said Fred. We might have put a toe across it occasionally,' said George. 'But we've always stopped short of causing real mayhem,' said Fred. 'But now?' said Ron tentatively. 'Well, now -' said George. '- what with Dumbledore gone -'said Fred. '- we reckon a bit of mayhem -'said George. '- is exactly what our dear new Head deserves,' said Fred. 'You really mustn't! 'We don't care about staying any more. We'd walk out right now if we

weren't determined to do our bit for Dumbledore first. So, anyway,' he checked his watch, 'phase one is about to begin. 'You'll see,' said George. 'Run along, now.' Fred and George turned away and disappeared into the swelling crowd descending the stairs towards lunch. Looking highly disconcerted, Ernie muttered something about unfinished Transfiguration homework and scurried away. 'Just in case 'Yeah, all right,' said Ron, and the three of them moved towards the doors to the Great Hall, but Harry had barely glimpsed the day's ceiling of scudding white clouds when somebody tapped him on the shoulder and, turning, he found himself almost nose-to-nose with Filch the caretaker. He took several hasty steps backwards; Filch was best viewed at a distance. The Headmistress would like to see you, Potter,' he leered. 'I didn't do it,' said Harry stupidly, thinking of whatever Fred and George were planning. Filch's jowls wobbled with silent laughter. 'Guilty conscience, eh?' he wheezed. 'Follow me.' Harry glanced back at Ron, who were both looking worried. He shrugged, and followed Filch back into the Entrance Hall, against the tide of hungry students. Filch seemed to be in an extremely good mood; he hummed creakily under his breath as they climbed the marble staircase. As they reached the first landing he said, Things are changing around here, Potter.' 'I've noticed,' said Harry coldly. 'Yerse... I've been telling Dumbledore for years and years he's too soft with you all,' said Filch, chuckling nastily. 'You filthy little beasts would never have dropped Stink Pellets if you'd known I had it in my power to whip you raw, would you, now? Nobody would have thought of throwing Fanged Frisbees down the corridors if I could've strung you up by the ankles in my office, would they? But when Educational Decree Number Twenty-nine comes in, Potter

en't determined to do our bit for Dumbledore first. So, anyway,' he checked his watch, 'phase one is about to begin. 'You'll see,' said George. 'Run along, now.' Fred and George turned away and disappeared into the swelling crowd descending the stairs towards lunch. Looking highly disconcerted, Ernie muttered something about unfinished Transfiguration homework and scurried away. 'Just in case 'Yeah, all right,' said Ron, and the three of them moved towards the doors to the Great Hall, but Harry had barely glimpsed the day's ceiling of scudding white clouds when somebody tapped him on the shoulder and, turning, he found himself almost nose-to-nose with Filch the caretaker. He took several hasty steps backwards; Filch was best viewed at a distance. The Headmistress would like to see you, Potter,' he leered. 'I didn't do it,' said Harry stupidly, thinking of whatever Fred and George were planning. Filch's jowls wobbled with silent laughter. 'Guilty conscience, eh?' he wheezed. 'Follow me.' Harry glanced back at Ron, who were both looking worried. He shrugged, and followed Filch back into the Entrance Hall, against the tide of hungry students. Filch seemed to be in an extremely good mood; he hummed creakily under his breath as they climbed the marble staircase. As they reached the first landing he said, Things are changing around here, Potter.' 'I've noticed,' said Harry coldly. 'Yerse... I've been telling Dumbledore for years and years he's too soft with you all,' said Filch, chuckling nastily. 'You filthy little beasts would never have dropped Stink Pellets if you'd known I had it in my power to whip you raw, would you, now? Nobody would have thought of throwing Fanged Frisbees down the corridors if I could've strung you up by the ankles in my office, would they? But when Educational Decree Number Twenty-nine comes in, Potter

, I'll be allowed to do them things... and she's asked the Minister to sign an order for the expulsion of Peeves... oh, things are going to be very different around here with her in charge Umbridge had obviously gone to some lengths to get Filch on her side, Harry thought, and the worst of it was that he would probably prove an important weapon; his knowledge of the school's secret passageways and hiding places was probably second only to that of the Weasley twins. 'Here we are,' he said, leering down at Harry as he rapped three times on Professor Umbridge's door and pushed it open. The Potter boy to see you, Ma'am.' Umbridge's office, so very familiar to Harry from his many detentions, was the same as usual except for the large wooden block lying across the front of her desk on which golden letters spelled the word: HEADMISTRESS. Also, his Firebolt and Fred and George's Cleansweeps, which he saw with a pang, were chained and padlocked to a stout iron peg in the wall behind the desk. Umbridge was sitting behind the desk, busily scribbling on some of her pink parchment, but she looked up and smiled widely at their entrance. 'Thank you, Argus,' she said sweetly. 'Not at all, Ma'am, not at all,' said Filch, bowing as low as his rheumatism would permit, and exiting backwards. 'Sit,' said Umbridge curtly, pointing towards a chair. Harry sat. She continued to scribble for a few moments. He watched some of the foul kittens gambolling around the plates over her head, wondering what fresh horror she had in store for him. 'Well, now,' she said finally, setting down her quill and surveying him complacently, like a toad about to swallow a particularly juicy fly. 'What would you like to drink?' 'What? said Harry, quite sure he had misheard her. To drink, Mr Potter,' she said, smiling still more widely. Tea? Coffee? Pumpkin juice?' As she named each drink, she gave her short wand

I'll be allowed to do them things... and she's asked the Minister to sign an order for the expulsion of Peeves... oh, things are going to be very different around here with her in charge Umbridge had obviously gone to some lengths to get Filch on her side, Harry thought, and the worst of it was that he would probably prove an important weapon; his knowledge of the school's secret passageways and hiding places was probably second only to that of the Weasley twins. 'Here we are,' he said, leering down at Harry as he rapped three times on Professor Umbridge's door and pushed it open. The Potter boy to see you, Ma'am.' Umbridge's office, so very familiar to Harry from his many detentions, was the same as usual except for the large wooden block lying across the front of her desk on which golden letters spelled the word: HEADMISTRESS. Also, his Firebolt and Fred and George's Cleansweeps, which he saw with a pang, were chained and padlocked to a stout iron peg in the wall behind the desk. Umbridge was sitting behind the desk, busily scribbling on some of her pink parchment, but she looked up and smiled widely at their entrance. 'Thank you, Argus,' she said sweetly. 'Not at all, Ma'am, not at all,' said Filch, bowing as low as his rheumatism would permit, and exiting backwards. 'Sit,' said Umbridge curtly, pointing towards a chair. Harry sat. She continued to scribble for a few moments. He watched some of the foul kittens gambolling around the plates over her head, wondering what fresh horror she had in store for him. 'Well, now,' she said finally, setting down her quill and surveying him complacently, like a toad about to swallow a particularly juicy fly. 'What would you like to drink?' 'What? said Harry, quite sure he had misheard her. To drink, Mr Potter,' she said, smiling still more widely. Tea? Coffee? Pumpkin juice?' As she named each drink, she gave her short wand

a wave, and a cup or glass of it appeared on her desk. 'Nothing, thank you,' said Harry. 'I wish you to have a drink with me,' she said, her voice becoming dangerously sweet. 'Choose one.' 'Fine... tea then,' said Harry shrugging. She got up and made quite a performance of adding milk w.th her back to him. She then bustled around the desk with it, smiling in a sinisterly sweet fashion. There,' she said, handing it to him. 'Drink it before it gets cold, won't you? Well, now, Mr Potter... I thought we ought to have a little chat, after the distressing events of last night.' He said nothing. She settled herself back into her seat and waited. When several long moments had passed in silence, she said gaily, 'You're not drinking up!' He raised the cup to his lips and then, just as suddenly, lowered it. One of the horrible painted kittens behind Umbridge had great round blue eyes just like Mad-Eye Moody's magical one and it had just occurred to Harry what Mad-Eye would say if he ever heard that Harry had drunk anything offered by a known enemy. 'What's the matter?' said Umbridge, who was still watching him closely. 'Do you want sugar?' 'No,' said Harry. He raised the cup to his lips again and pretended to take a sip, though keeping his mouth tightly closed. Umbridge's smile widened. 'Good,' she whispered. 'Very good. Now then...' She leaned forwards a little. 'Where is Albus Dumbledore?' 'No idea,' said Harry promptly. 'Drink up, drink up,' she said, still smiling. 'Now, Mr Potter, let us not play childish games. I know that you know where he has gone. You and Dumbledore have been in this together from the beginning. Consider your position, Mr Potter...' 'I don't know where he is,' Harry repeated. He pretended to drink again. She was watching him very closely. 'Very well,' she said, though she looked dis

wave, and a cup or glass of it appeared on her desk. 'Nothing, thank you,' said Harry. 'I wish you to have a drink with me,' she said, her voice becoming dangerously sweet. 'Choose one.' 'Fine... tea then,' said Harry shrugging. She got up and made quite a performance of adding milk w.th her back to him. She then bustled around the desk with it, smiling in a sinisterly sweet fashion. There,' she said, handing it to him. 'Drink it before it gets cold, won't you? Well, now, Mr Potter... I thought we ought to have a little chat, after the distressing events of last night.' He said nothing. She settled herself back into her seat and waited. When several long moments had passed in silence, she said gaily, 'You're not drinking up!' He raised the cup to his lips and then, just as suddenly, lowered it. One of the horrible painted kittens behind Umbridge had great round blue eyes just like Mad-Eye Moody's magical one and it had just occurred to Harry what Mad-Eye would say if he ever heard that Harry had drunk anything offered by a known enemy. 'What's the matter?' said Umbridge, who was still watching him closely. 'Do you want sugar?' 'No,' said Harry. He raised the cup to his lips again and pretended to take a sip, though keeping his mouth tightly closed. Umbridge's smile widened. 'Good,' she whispered. 'Very good. Now then...' She leaned forwards a little. 'Where is Albus Dumbledore?' 'No idea,' said Harry promptly. 'Drink up, drink up,' she said, still smiling. 'Now, Mr Potter, let us not play childish games. I know that you know where he has gone. You and Dumbledore have been in this together from the beginning. Consider your position, Mr Potter...' 'I don't know where he is,' Harry repeated. He pretended to drink again. She was watching him very closely. 'Very well,' she said, though she looked dis

pleased. 'In that case, you will kindly tell me the whereabouts of Sirius Black.' Harry's stomach turned over and his hand holding the teacup shook so that it rattled in its saucer. He tilted the cup to his mouth with his lips pressed together, so that some of the hot liquid trickled down on to his robes. 'I don't know,' he said, a little too quickly. 'Mr Potter,' said Umbridge, 'let me remind you that it was I who almost caught the criminal Black in the Gryffindor fire in October. I know perfectly well it was you he was meeting and if I had had any proof neither of you would be at large today, I promise you. I repeat, Mr Potter... where is Sirius Black?' 'No idea,' said Harry loudly. 'Haven't got a clue.' They stared at each other so long that Harry felt his eyes watering. Then Umbridge stood up. 'Very well, Potter, I will take your word for it this time, but be warned: the might of the Ministry stands behind me. All channels of communication in and out of this school are being monitored. A Floo Network Regulator is keeping watch over every fire in Hogwarts - except my own, of course. My Inquisitorial Squad is opening and reading all owl post entering and leaving the castle. And Mr Filch is observing all secret passages in and out of the castle. If I find a shred of evidence...' BOOM! The very floor of the office shook. Umbridge slipped sideways, clutching her desk for support, and looking shocked. 'What was -?' She was gazing towards the door. Harry took the opportunity to empty his almost-full cup of tea into the nearest vase of dried flowers. He could hear people running and screaming several floors below. 'Back to lunch you go, Potter!' cried Umbridge, raising her wand and dashing out of the office. Harry gave her a few seconds' start, then hurried after her to see what the source of all the uproar was. It was not difficult to find. One floor down, pandemonium reigned. Somebody

ased. 'In that case, you will kindly tell me the whereabouts of Sirius Black.' Harry's stomach turned over and his hand holding the teacup shook so that it rattled in its saucer. He tilted the cup to his mouth with his lips pressed together, so that some of the hot liquid trickled down on to his robes. 'I don't know,' he said, a little too quickly. 'Mr Potter,' said Umbridge, 'let me remind you that it was I who almost caught the criminal Black in the Gryffindor fire in October. I know perfectly well it was you he was meeting and if I had had any proof neither of you would be at large today, I promise you. I repeat, Mr Potter... where is Sirius Black?' 'No idea,' said Harry loudly. 'Haven't got a clue.' They stared at each other so long that Harry felt his eyes watering. Then Umbridge stood up. 'Very well, Potter, I will take your word for it this time, but be warned: the might of the Ministry stands behind me. All channels of communication in and out of this school are being monitored. A Floo Network Regulator is keeping watch over every fire in Hogwarts - except my own, of course. My Inquisitorial Squad is opening and reading all owl post entering and leaving the castle. And Mr Filch is observing all secret passages in and out of the castle. If I find a shred of evidence...' BOOM! The very floor of the office shook. Umbridge slipped sideways, clutching her desk for support, and looking shocked. 'What was -?' She was gazing towards the door. Harry took the opportunity to empty his almost-full cup of tea into the nearest vase of dried flowers. He could hear people running and screaming several floors below. 'Back to lunch you go, Potter!' cried Umbridge, raising her wand and dashing out of the office. Harry gave her a few seconds' start, then hurried after her to see what the source of all the uproar was. It was not difficult to find. One floor down, pandemonium reigned. Somebody

(and Harry had a very shrewd idea who) had set off what seemed to be an enormous crate of enchanted fireworks. Dragons comprised entirely of green and gold sparks were soaring up and down the corridors, emitting loud fiery blasts and bangs as they went; shocking-pink Catherine wheels five feet in diameter were whizzing lethally through the air like so many flying saucers; rockets with long tails of brilliant silver stars were ricocheting off the walls; sparklers were writing swear words in midair of their own accord; firecrackers were exploding like mines everywhere Harry looked, and instead of burning themselves out, fading from sight or fizzling to a halt, these pyrotechnical miracles seemed to be gaining in energy and momentum the longer he watched. Filch and Umbridge were standing, apparently transfixed in horror, halfway down the stairs. As Harry watched, one of the larger Catherine wheels seemed to decide that what it needed was more room to manoeuvre; it whirled towards Umbridge and Filch with a sinister 'wheeeeeeeeee'. They both yelled with fright and ducked, and it soared straight out of the window behind them and off across the grounds. Meanwhile, several of the dragons and a large purple bat that was smoking ominously took advantage of the open door at the end of the corridor to escape towards the second floor. 'Hurry, Filch, hurry!' shrieked Umbridge, 'they'll be all over the school unless we do something - Stupefy!' A jet of red light shot out of the end of her wand and hit one of the rockets. Instead of freezing in midair, it exploded with such force that it blasted a hole in a painting of a soppy-looking witch in the middle of a meadow; she ran for it just in time, reappearing seconds later squashed into the next painting, where a couple of wizards playing cards stood up hastily to make room for her. 'Don't Stun them, Filch!' shouted Umbridge angrily, for all the world as though it had been his incantation. 'Right you are, Headmistress!'

and Harry had a very shrewd idea who) had set off what seemed to be an enormous crate of enchanted fireworks. Dragons comprised entirely of green and gold sparks were soaring up and down the corridors, emitting loud fiery blasts and bangs as they went; shocking-pink Catherine wheels five feet in diameter were whizzing lethally through the air like so many flying saucers; rockets with long tails of brilliant silver stars were ricocheting off the walls; sparklers were writing swear words in midair of their own accord; firecrackers were exploding like mines everywhere Harry looked, and instead of burning themselves out, fading from sight or fizzling to a halt, these pyrotechnical miracles seemed to be gaining in energy and momentum the longer he watched. Filch and Umbridge were standing, apparently transfixed in horror, halfway down the stairs. As Harry watched, one of the larger Catherine wheels seemed to decide that what it needed was more room to manoeuvre; it whirled towards Umbridge and Filch with a sinister 'wheeeeeeeeee'. They both yelled with fright and ducked, and it soared straight out of the window behind them and off across the grounds. Meanwhile, several of the dragons and a large purple bat that was smoking ominously took advantage of the open door at the end of the corridor to escape towards the second floor. 'Hurry, Filch, hurry!' shrieked Umbridge, 'they'll be all over the school unless we do something - Stupefy!' A jet of red light shot out of the end of her wand and hit one of the rockets. Instead of freezing in midair, it exploded with such force that it blasted a hole in a painting of a soppy-looking witch in the middle of a meadow; she ran for it just in time, reappearing seconds later squashed into the next painting, where a couple of wizards playing cards stood up hastily to make room for her. 'Don't Stun them, Filch!' shouted Umbridge angrily, for all the world as though it had been his incantation. 'Right you are, Headmistress!'

wheezed Filch, who as a Squib could no more have Stunned the fireworks than swallowed them. He dashed to a nearby cupboard, pulled out a broom and began swatting at the fireworks in midair; within seconds the head of the broom was ablaze. Harry had seen enough; laughing, he ducked down low, ran to a door he knew was concealed behind a tapestry a little way along the corridor and slipped through it to find Fred and George hiding just behind it, listening to Umbridge and Filch's yells and quaking with suppressed mirth. 'Impressive,' Harry said quietly, grinning. 'Very impressive... you'll put Dr Filibuster out of business, no problem...' 'Cheers,' whispered George, wiping tears of laughter from his face. 'Oh, I hope she tries Vanishing them next... they multiply by ten every time you try.' The fireworks continued to burn and to spread all over the school that afternoon. Though they caused plenty of disruption, particularly the firecrackers, the other teachers didn't seem to mind them very much. 'Dear, dear,' said Professor McGonagall sardonically, as one of the dragons soared around her classroom, emitting loud bangs and exhaling flame. 'Miss Brown, would you mind running along to the Headmistress and informing her that we have an escaped firework in our classroom?' The upshot of it all was that Professor Umbridge spent her first afternoon as Headmistress running all over the school answering the summonses of the other teachers, none of whom seemed able to rid their rooms of the fireworks without her. When the final bell rang and they were heading back to Gryffindor Tower with their bags, Harry saw, with immense satisfaction, a dishevelled and soot-blackened Umbridge tottering sweaty-faced from Professor Flitwick's classroom. Thank you so much, Professor!' said Professor Flitwick in his squeaky little voice. 'I could have got rid of the sparklers myself, of course, but I wasn't sure whether or not I had the authority.' Beaming, he

ezed Filch, who as a Squib could no more have Stunned the fireworks than swallowed them. He dashed to a nearby cupboard, pulled out a broom and began swatting at the fireworks in midair; within seconds the head of the broom was ablaze. Harry had seen enough; laughing, he ducked down low, ran to a door he knew was concealed behind a tapestry a little way along the corridor and slipped through it to find Fred and George hiding just behind it, listening to Umbridge and Filch's yells and quaking with suppressed mirth. 'Impressive,' Harry said quietly, grinning. 'Very impressive... you'll put Dr Filibuster out of business, no problem...' 'Cheers,' whispered George, wiping tears of laughter from his face. 'Oh, I hope she tries Vanishing them next... they multiply by ten every time you try.' The fireworks continued to burn and to spread all over the school that afternoon. Though they caused plenty of disruption, particularly the firecrackers, the other teachers didn't seem to mind them very much. 'Dear, dear,' said Professor McGonagall sardonically, as one of the dragons soared around her classroom, emitting loud bangs and exhaling flame. 'Miss Brown, would you mind running along to the Headmistress and informing her that we have an escaped firework in our classroom?' The upshot of it all was that Professor Umbridge spent her first afternoon as Headmistress running all over the school answering the summonses of the other teachers, none of whom seemed able to rid their rooms of the fireworks without her. When the final bell rang and they were heading back to Gryffindor Tower with their bags, Harry saw, with immense satisfaction, a dishevelled and soot-blackened Umbridge tottering sweaty-faced from Professor Flitwick's classroom. Thank you so much, Professor!' said Professor Flitwick in his squeaky little voice. 'I could have got rid of the sparklers myself, of course, but I wasn't sure whether or not I had the authority.' Beaming, he

closed his classroom door in her snarling face. Fred and George were heroes that night in the Gryffindor common room. They were wonderful fireworks,' she said admiringly. Thanks,' said George, looking both surprised and pleased. 'Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs. Only thing is, we used our whole stock; we're going to have to start again from scratch now.' 'It was worth it, though,' said Fred, who was taking orders from clamouring Gryffindors.. 'After all, the Easter holidays start on Friday, we'll have plenty of time then.' 'Are you feeling all right?' Ron asked, staring at her in disbelief... I think I'm feeling a bit... rebellious.' Harry could still hear the distant bangs of escaped firecrackers when he and Ron went up to bed an hour later; and as he got undressed a sparkler floated past the tower, still resolutely spelling out the word 'POO'. He got into bed, yawning. With his glasses off, the occasional firework passing the window had become blurred, looking like sparkling clouds, beautiful and mysterious against the black sky. He turned on to his side, wondering how Umbridge was feeling about her first day in Dumbledore's job, and how Fudge would react when he heard that the school had spent most of the day in a state of advanced disruption. Smiling to himself, Harry closed his eyes... The whizzes and bangs of escaped fireworks in the grounds seemed to be growing more distant... or perhaps he was simply speeding away from them... He had fallen right into the corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries. He was speeding towards the plain black door... let it open... let it open... It did. He was inside the circular room lined with doors... he crossed it, placed his hand on an identical door and it swung inwards... Now he was in a long, rectangular room full of an odd mechanical clicking. There were dancing flecks of light on the walls but he did not pause to investigate... he had to go on... There

his classroom door in her snarling face. Fred and George were heroes that night in the Gryffindor common room. They were wonderful fireworks,' she said admiringly. Thanks,' said George, looking both surprised and pleased. 'Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs. Only thing is, we used our whole stock; we're going to have to start again from scratch now.' 'It was worth it, though,' said Fred, who was taking orders from clamouring Gryffindors.. 'After all, the Easter holidays start on Friday, we'll have plenty of time then.' 'Are you feeling all right?' Ron asked, staring at her in disbelief... I think I'm feeling a bit... rebellious.' Harry could still hear the distant bangs of escaped firecrackers when he and Ron went up to bed an hour later; and as he got undressed a sparkler floated past the tower, still resolutely spelling out the word 'POO'. He got into bed, yawning. With his glasses off, the occasional firework passing the window had become blurred, looking like sparkling clouds, beautiful and mysterious against the black sky. He turned on to his side, wondering how Umbridge was feeling about her first day in Dumbledore's job, and how Fudge would react when he heard that the school had spent most of the day in a state of advanced disruption. Smiling to himself, Harry closed his eyes... The whizzes and bangs of escaped fireworks in the grounds seemed to be growing more distant... or perhaps he was simply speeding away from them... He had fallen right into the corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries. He was speeding towards the plain black door... let it open... let it open... It did. He was inside the circular room lined with doors... he crossed it, placed his hand on an identical door and it swung inwards... Now he was in a long, rectangular room full of an odd mechanical clicking. There were dancing flecks of light on the walls but he did not pause to investigate... he had to go on... There

was a door at the far end... it, too, opened at his touch... And now he was in a dimly lit room as high and wide as a church, full of nothing but rows and rows of towering shelves, each laden with small, dusty, spun-glass spheres... now Harry's heart was beating fast with excitement... he knew where to go... he ran forwards, but his footsteps made no noise in the enormous, deserted room... There was something in this room he wanted very, very much... Something he wanted... or somebody else wanted... His scar was hurting... BANG! Harry awoke instantly, confused and angry. The dark dormitory was full of the sound of laughter. 'Cool!' said Seamus, who was silhouetted against the window. 'I think one of those Catherine wheels hit a rocket and it's like they mated, come and see!' Harry heard Ron and Dean scramble out of bed for a better look. He lay quite still and silent while the pain in his scar subsided and disappointment washed over him. He felt as though a wonderful treat had been snatched from him at the very last moment... he had got so close that time. Glittering pink and silver winged piglets were now soaring past the windows of Gryffindor Tower. Harry lay and listened to the appreciative whoops of Gryffindors in the dormitories below them. His stomach gave a sickening jolt as he remembered that he had Occlumency the following evening. * Harry spent the whole of the next day dreading what Snape was going to say if he found out how much further into the Department of Mysteries Harry had penetrated during his last dream. With a surge of guilt he realised that he had not practised Occlumency once since their last lesson: there had been too much going on since Dumbledore had left; he was sure he would not have been able to empty his mind even if he had tried. He doubted, however, whether Snape would accept that excuse. He attempted a little last-minute practice during classes that day,

a door at the far end... it, too, opened at his touch... And now he was in a dimly lit room as high and wide as a church, full of nothing but rows and rows of towering shelves, each laden with small, dusty, spun-glass spheres... now Harry's heart was beating fast with excitement... he knew where to go... he ran forwards, but his footsteps made no noise in the enormous, deserted room... There was something in this room he wanted very, very much... Something he wanted... or somebody else wanted... His scar was hurting... BANG! Harry awoke instantly, confused and angry. The dark dormitory was full of the sound of laughter. 'Cool!' said Seamus, who was silhouetted against the window. 'I think one of those Catherine wheels hit a rocket and it's like they mated, come and see!' Harry heard Ron and Dean scramble out of bed for a better look. He lay quite still and silent while the pain in his scar subsided and disappointment washed over him. He felt as though a wonderful treat had been snatched from him at the very last moment... he had got so close that time. Glittering pink and silver winged piglets were now soaring past the windows of Gryffindor Tower. Harry lay and listened to the appreciative whoops of Gryffindors in the dormitories below them. His stomach gave a sickening jolt as he remembered that he had Occlumency the following evening. * Harry spent the whole of the next day dreading what Snape was going to say if he found out how much further into the Department of Mysteries Harry had penetrated during his last dream. With a surge of guilt he realised that he had not practised Occlumency once since their last lesson: there had been too much going on since Dumbledore had left; he was sure he would not have been able to empty his mind even if he had tried. He doubted, however, whether Snape would accept that excuse. He attempted a little last-minute practice during classes that day,

but it was no good. Resigned to the worst, he set off for Snape's office after dinner. Halfway across the Entrance Hall, however, Cho came hurrying up to him. 'Over here,' said Harry, glad of a reason to postpone his meeting with Snape, and beckoning her across to the corner of the Entrance Hall where the giant hour-glasses stood. Gryffindor's was now almost empty. 'Are you OK? Umbridge hasn't been asking you about the DA, has she?' 'Oh, no,' said Cho hurriedly. 'No, it was only... well, I just wanted to say... Harry, I never dreamed Marietta would tell..' 'Yeah, well,' said Harry moodily. He did feel Cho might have chosen her friends a bit more carefully; it was small consolation that the last he had heard, Marietta was still up in the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey had not been able to make the slightest improvement to her pimples. 'She's a lovely person really,' said Cho. 'She just made a mistake - Harry looked at her incredulously. 'A lovely person who made a mistake? She sold us all out, including you!' 'Well... we all got away, didn't we?' said Cho pleadingly. 'You know, her mum works for the Ministry, it's really difficult for her - ' 'Ron's dad works for the Ministry too!' Harry said furiously. 'She should have told us she'd jinxed that list - ' 'I think it was a brilliant idea,' said Harry coldly. Cho flushed and her eyes grew brighter. 'I wasn't going to!' she shouted. 'Yeah... well... good,' he said. 'I've got enough to cope with at the moment.' 'Go and cope with it then!' Cho said furiously, turning on her heel and stalking off. Fuming, Harry descended the stairs to Snape's dungeon and, though he knew from experience how much easier it would be for Snape to penetrate his

it was no good. Resigned to the worst, he set off for Snape's office after dinner. Halfway across the Entrance Hall, however, Cho came hurrying up to him. 'Over here,' said Harry, glad of a reason to postpone his meeting with Snape, and beckoning her across to the corner of the Entrance Hall where the giant hour-glasses stood. Gryffindor's was now almost empty. 'Are you OK? Umbridge hasn't been asking you about the DA, has she?' 'Oh, no,' said Cho hurriedly. 'No, it was only... well, I just wanted to say... Harry, I never dreamed Marietta would tell..' 'Yeah, well,' said Harry moodily. He did feel Cho might have chosen her friends a bit more carefully; it was small consolation that the last he had heard, Marietta was still up in the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey had not been able to make the slightest improvement to her pimples. 'She's a lovely person really,' said Cho. 'She just made a mistake - Harry looked at her incredulously. 'A lovely person who made a mistake? She sold us all out, including you!' 'Well... we all got away, didn't we?' said Cho pleadingly. 'You know, her mum works for the Ministry, it's really difficult for her - ' 'Ron's dad works for the Ministry too!' Harry said furiously. 'She should have told us she'd jinxed that list - ' 'I think it was a brilliant idea,' said Harry coldly. Cho flushed and her eyes grew brighter. 'I wasn't going to!' she shouted. 'Yeah... well... good,' he said. 'I've got enough to cope with at the moment.' 'Go and cope with it then!' Cho said furiously, turning on her heel and stalking off. Fuming, Harry descended the stairs to Snape's dungeon and, though he knew from experience how much easier it would be for Snape to penetrate his

mind if he arrived angry and resentful, he succeeded in nothing but thinking of a few more things he should have said to Cho about Marietta before reaching the dungeon door. 'You're late, Potter,' said Snape coldly, as Harry closed the door behind him. Snape was standing with his back to Harry, removing, as usual, certain of his thoughts and placing them carefully in Dumbledore's Pensieve. He dropped the last silvery strand into the stone basin and turned to face Harry. 'So,' he said. 'Have you been practising?' 'Yes,' Harry lied, looking carefully at one of the legs of Snape's desk. 'Well, we'll soon find out, won't we?' said Snape smoothly. 'Wand out, Potter.' Harry moved into his usual position, facing Snape with the desk between them. His heart was pumping last with anger at Cho and anxiety about how much Snape was about to extract from his mind. 'On the count of three then,' said Snape lazily. 'One - two - ' Snape's office door banged open and Draco Malfoy sped in. 'Professor Snape, sir - oh - sorry - ' Malfoy was looking at Snape and Harry in some surprise. 'It's all right, Draco,' said Snape, lowering his wand. 'Potter is here for a little remedial Potions.' Harry had not seen Malfoy look so gleeful since Umbridge had turned up to inspect Hagrid. 'I didn't know,' he said, leering at Harry, who knew his face was burning. He would have given a great deal to be able to shout the truth at Malfoy - or, even better, to hit him with a good curse. 'Well, Draco, what is it?' asked Snape. 'It's Professor Umbridge, sir - she needs your help,' said Malfoy. They've found Montague, sir, he's turned up jammed inside a toilet on the fourth floor.' 'How did he get in there?' demanded Sna

if he arrived angry and resentful, he succeeded in nothing but thinking of a few more things he should have said to Cho about Marietta before reaching the dungeon door. 'You're late, Potter,' said Snape coldly, as Harry closed the door behind him. Snape was standing with his back to Harry, removing, as usual, certain of his thoughts and placing them carefully in Dumbledore's Pensieve. He dropped the last silvery strand into the stone basin and turned to face Harry. 'So,' he said. 'Have you been practising?' 'Yes,' Harry lied, looking carefully at one of the legs of Snape's desk. 'Well, we'll soon find out, won't we?' said Snape smoothly. 'Wand out, Potter.' Harry moved into his usual position, facing Snape with the desk between them. His heart was pumping last with anger at Cho and anxiety about how much Snape was about to extract from his mind. 'On the count of three then,' said Snape lazily. 'One - two - ' Snape's office door banged open and Draco Malfoy sped in. 'Professor Snape, sir - oh - sorry - ' Malfoy was looking at Snape and Harry in some surprise. 'It's all right, Draco,' said Snape, lowering his wand. 'Potter is here for a little remedial Potions.' Harry had not seen Malfoy look so gleeful since Umbridge had turned up to inspect Hagrid. 'I didn't know,' he said, leering at Harry, who knew his face was burning. He would have given a great deal to be able to shout the truth at Malfoy - or, even better, to hit him with a good curse. 'Well, Draco, what is it?' asked Snape. 'It's Professor Umbridge, sir - she needs your help,' said Malfoy. They've found Montague, sir, he's turned up jammed inside a toilet on the fourth floor.' 'How did he get in there?' demanded Sna

pe. 'I don't know, sir, he's a bit confused.' 'Very well, very well. Potter,' said Snape, 'we shall resume this lesson tomorrow evening.' He turned and swept from his office. Malfoy mouthed, 'Remedial Potions?' at Harry behind Snape's back before following him. Seething, Harry replaced his wand inside his robes and made to leave the room. At least he had twenty-four more hours in which to practise; he knew he ought to feel grateful for the narrow escape, though it was hard that it came at the expense of Malfoy telling the whole school that he needed remedial Potions. He was at the office door when he saw it: a patch of shivering light dancing on the doorframe. He stopped, and stood looking at it, reminded of something... then he remembered: it was a little like the lights he had seen in his dream last night, the lights n the second room he had walked through on his journey through the Department of Mysteries. He turned around. The light was coming from the Pensieve sitting on Snape's desk. The silver-white contents were ebbing and swirling within. Snape's thoughts... things he did not want Harry to see if he broke through Snape's defences accidentally... Harry gazed at the Pensieve, curiosity welling inside him... what was it that Snape was so keen to hide from Harry? The silvery lights shivered on the wall... Harry took two steps towards the desk, thinking hard. Could it possibly be information about the Department of Mysteries that Snape was determined to keep from him? Harry looked over his shoulder, his heart now pumping harder and faster than ever. How long would it take Snape to release Montague from the toilet? Would he come straight back to his office afterwards, or accompany Montague to the hospital wing? Surely the latter... Montague was Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, Snape would want to make sure he was all right. Harry walked the remaining few feet to the Pensieve and stood over it, gazing into its depths.

. 'I don't know, sir, he's a bit confused.' 'Very well, very well. Potter,' said Snape, 'we shall resume this lesson tomorrow evening.' He turned and swept from his office. Malfoy mouthed, 'Remedial Potions?' at Harry behind Snape's back before following him. Seething, Harry replaced his wand inside his robes and made to leave the room. At least he had twenty-four more hours in which to practise; he knew he ought to feel grateful for the narrow escape, though it was hard that it came at the expense of Malfoy telling the whole school that he needed remedial Potions. He was at the office door when he saw it: a patch of shivering light dancing on the doorframe. He stopped, and stood looking at it, reminded of something... then he remembered: it was a little like the lights he had seen in his dream last night, the lights n the second room he had walked through on his journey through the Department of Mysteries. He turned around. The light was coming from the Pensieve sitting on Snape's desk. The silver-white contents were ebbing and swirling within. Snape's thoughts... things he did not want Harry to see if he broke through Snape's defences accidentally... Harry gazed at the Pensieve, curiosity welling inside him... what was it that Snape was so keen to hide from Harry? The silvery lights shivered on the wall... Harry took two steps towards the desk, thinking hard. Could it possibly be information about the Department of Mysteries that Snape was determined to keep from him? Harry looked over his shoulder, his heart now pumping harder and faster than ever. How long would it take Snape to release Montague from the toilet? Would he come straight back to his office afterwards, or accompany Montague to the hospital wing? Surely the latter... Montague was Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, Snape would want to make sure he was all right. Harry walked the remaining few feet to the Pensieve and stood over it, gazing into its depths.

He hesitated, listening, then pulled out his wand again. The office and the corridor beyond were completely silent. He gave the contents of the Pensieve a small prod with the end of his wand. The silvery stuff within began to swirl very fast. Harry leaned forwards over it and saw that it had become transparent. He was, once again, looking down into a room as though through a circular window in the ceiling... in fact, unless he was much mistaken, he was looking down into the Great Hall. His breath was actually fogging the surface of Snape's thoughts... his brain seemed to be in limbo... it would be insane to do the thing he was so strongly tempted to do... he was trembling... Snape could be back at any moment... but Harry thought of Cho's anger, of Malfoy's jeering face, and a reckless daring seized him. He took a great gulp of breath, and plunged his face into the surface of Snape's thoughts. At once, the floor of the office lurched, tipping Harry head-first into the Pensieve... He was falling through cold blackness, spinning furiously as he went, and then - ' He was standing in the middle of the Great Hall, but the four house tables were gone. Instead, there were more than a hundred smaller tables, all facing the same way, at each of which sat a student, head bent low, scribbling on a roll of parchment. The only sound was the scratching of quills and the occasional rustle as somebody adjusted their parchment. It was clearly exam time. Sunshine was streaming through the high windows on to the bent heads, which shone chestnut and copper and gold in the bright light. Harry looked around carefully. Snape had to be here somewhere... this was his memory... And there he was, at a table right behind Harry. Harry stared. Snape-the-teenager had a stringy, pallid look about him, like a plant kept in the dark. His hair was lank and greasy and was flopping on to the table, his hooked nose barely half an inch from the surface of the parchment

hesitated, listening, then pulled out his wand again. The office and the corridor beyond were completely silent. He gave the contents of the Pensieve a small prod with the end of his wand. The silvery stuff within began to swirl very fast. Harry leaned forwards over it and saw that it had become transparent. He was, once again, looking down into a room as though through a circular window in the ceiling... in fact, unless he was much mistaken, he was looking down into the Great Hall. His breath was actually fogging the surface of Snape's thoughts... his brain seemed to be in limbo... it would be insane to do the thing he was so strongly tempted to do... he was trembling... Snape could be back at any moment... but Harry thought of Cho's anger, of Malfoy's jeering face, and a reckless daring seized him. He took a great gulp of breath, and plunged his face into the surface of Snape's thoughts. At once, the floor of the office lurched, tipping Harry head-first into the Pensieve... He was falling through cold blackness, spinning furiously as he went, and then - ' He was standing in the middle of the Great Hall, but the four house tables were gone. Instead, there were more than a hundred smaller tables, all facing the same way, at each of which sat a student, head bent low, scribbling on a roll of parchment. The only sound was the scratching of quills and the occasional rustle as somebody adjusted their parchment. It was clearly exam time. Sunshine was streaming through the high windows on to the bent heads, which shone chestnut and copper and gold in the bright light. Harry looked around carefully. Snape had to be here somewhere... this was his memory... And there he was, at a table right behind Harry. Harry stared. Snape-the-teenager had a stringy, pallid look about him, like a plant kept in the dark. His hair was lank and greasy and was flopping on to the table, his hooked nose barely half an inch from the surface of the parchment

as he scribbled. Harry moved around behind Snape and read the heading of the examination paper: DEFENCE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS - ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL. So Snape had to be fifteen or sixteen, around Harry's own age. His hand was flying across the parchment; he had written at least a foot more than his closest neighbours, and yet his writing was minuscule and cramped. 'Five more minutes!' The voice made Harry jump. Turning, he saw the top of Professor Flitwick's head moving between the desks a short distance away. Professor Flitwick was walking past a boy with untidy black hair... very untidy black hair... Harry moved so quickly that, had he been solid, he would have knocked desks flying. Instead he seemed to slide, dreamlike, across two aisles and up a third. The back of the black-haired boy's head drew nearer and... he was straightening up now, putting down his quill, pulling his roll of parchment towards him so as to reread what he had written... Harry stopped in front of the desk and gazed down at his fifteen-year-old father. Excitement exploded in the pit of his stomach: it was as though he was looking at himself but with deliberate mistakes. James's eyes were hazel, his nose was slightly longer than Harry's and there was no scar on his forehead, but they had the same thin face, same mouth, same eyebrows; James's hair stuck up at the back exactly as Harry's did, his hands could have been Harry's and Harry could tell that, when James stood up, they would be within an inch of each other in height. James yawned hugely and rumpled up his hair, making it even messier than it had been. Then, with a glance towards Professor Flitwick, he turned in his seat and grinned at a boy sitting four seats behind him. With another shock of excitement, Harry saw Sirius give James the thumbs-up. Sirius was lounging in his chair at his ease, tilting it back on two legs. He was very good

he scribbled. Harry moved around behind Snape and read the heading of the examination paper: DEFENCE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS - ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL. So Snape had to be fifteen or sixteen, around Harry's own age. His hand was flying across the parchment; he had written at least a foot more than his closest neighbours, and yet his writing was minuscule and cramped. 'Five more minutes!' The voice made Harry jump. Turning, he saw the top of Professor Flitwick's head moving between the desks a short distance away. Professor Flitwick was walking past a boy with untidy black hair... very untidy black hair... Harry moved so quickly that, had he been solid, he would have knocked desks flying. Instead he seemed to slide, dreamlike, across two aisles and up a third. The back of the black-haired boy's head drew nearer and... he was straightening up now, putting down his quill, pulling his roll of parchment towards him so as to reread what he had written... Harry stopped in front of the desk and gazed down at his fifteen-year-old father. Excitement exploded in the pit of his stomach: it was as though he was looking at himself but with deliberate mistakes. James's eyes were hazel, his nose was slightly longer than Harry's and there was no scar on his forehead, but they had the same thin face, same mouth, same eyebrows; James's hair stuck up at the back exactly as Harry's did, his hands could have been Harry's and Harry could tell that, when James stood up, they would be within an inch of each other in height. James yawned hugely and rumpled up his hair, making it even messier than it had been. Then, with a glance towards Professor Flitwick, he turned in his seat and grinned at a boy sitting four seats behind him. With another shock of excitement, Harry saw Sirius give James the thumbs-up. Sirius was lounging in his chair at his ease, tilting it back on two legs. He was very good

-looking; his dark hair fell into his eyes with a sort of casual elegance neither James's nor Harry's could ever have achieved, and a girl sitting behind him was eyeing him hopefully, though he didn't seem to have noticed. And two seats along from this girl - Harry's stomach gave another pleasurable squirm - was Remus Lupin. He looked rather pale and peaky (was the full moon approaching?) and was absorbed in the exam: as he reread his answers, he scratched his chin with the end of his quill, frowning slightly. So that meant Wormtail had to be around here somewhere, too... and sure enough, Harry spotted him within seconds: a small, mousy-haired boy with a pointed nose. Wormtail looked anxious; he was chewing his fingernails, staring down at his paper, scuffing the ground with his toes. Every now and then he glanced hopefully at his neighbour's paper. Harry stared at Wormtail for a moment, then back at James, who was now doodling on a bit of scrap parchment. He had drawn a Snitch and was now tracing the letters 'L.E.'. What did they stand for? 'Quills down, please!' squeaked Professor Flitwick. That means you too, Stebbins! Please remain seated while I collect your parchment! Accio!' Over a hundred rolls of parchment zoomed into the air and into Professor Flitwick's outstretched arms, knocking him backwards off his feet. Several people laughed. A couple of students at the front desks got up, took hold of Professor Flitwick beneath the elbows and lifted him back on to his feet. 'Thank you... thank you,' panted Professor Flitwick. 'Very well, everybody, you're free to go!' Harry looked down at his father, who had hastily crossed out the 'L.E.' he had been embellishing, jumped to his feet, stuffed his quill and the exam paper into his bag, which he slung over his back, and stood waiting for Sirius to join him. Harry looked around and glimpsed Snape a short way away, moving between the

looking; his dark hair fell into his eyes with a sort of casual elegance neither James's nor Harry's could ever have achieved, and a girl sitting behind him was eyeing him hopefully, though he didn't seem to have noticed. And two seats along from this girl - Harry's stomach gave another pleasurable squirm - was Remus Lupin. He looked rather pale and peaky (was the full moon approaching?) and was absorbed in the exam: as he reread his answers, he scratched his chin with the end of his quill, frowning slightly. So that meant Wormtail had to be around here somewhere, too... and sure enough, Harry spotted him within seconds: a small, mousy-haired boy with a pointed nose. Wormtail looked anxious; he was chewing his fingernails, staring down at his paper, scuffing the ground with his toes. Every now and then he glanced hopefully at his neighbour's paper. Harry stared at Wormtail for a moment, then back at James, who was now doodling on a bit of scrap parchment. He had drawn a Snitch and was now tracing the letters 'L.E.'. What did they stand for? 'Quills down, please!' squeaked Professor Flitwick. That means you too, Stebbins! Please remain seated while I collect your parchment! Accio!' Over a hundred rolls of parchment zoomed into the air and into Professor Flitwick's outstretched arms, knocking him backwards off his feet. Several people laughed. A couple of students at the front desks got up, took hold of Professor Flitwick beneath the elbows and lifted him back on to his feet. 'Thank you... thank you,' panted Professor Flitwick. 'Very well, everybody, you're free to go!' Harry looked down at his father, who had hastily crossed out the 'L.E.' he had been embellishing, jumped to his feet, stuffed his quill and the exam paper into his bag, which he slung over his back, and stood waiting for Sirius to join him. Harry looked around and glimpsed Snape a short way away, moving between the

tables towards the doors to the Entrance Hall, still absorbed in his own exam paper. Round-shouldered yet angular, he walked in a twitchy manner that recalled a spider, and his oily hair was jumping about his face. A gang of chattering girls separated Snape from James, Sirius and Lupin, and by planting himself in their midst, Harry managed to keep Snape in sight while straining his ears to catch the voices of James and his friends. 'Did you like question ten, Moony?' asked Sirius as they emerged into the Entrance Hall. Loved it, said Lupin briskly. 'Give five signs that identify the werewolf. Excellent question.' 'D'you think you managed to get all the signs?' said James in tones of mock concern. 'Think I did,' said Lupin seriously, as they joined the crowd thronging around the front doors eager to get out into the sunlit grounds. 'One: he's sitting on my chair. Two: he's wearing my clothes. Three: his name's Remus Lupin.' Wormtail was the only one who didn't laugh. 'I got the snout shape, the pupils of the eyes and the tufted tail,' he said anxiously, 'but I couldn't think what else - ' 'How thick are you, Wormtail?' said James impatiently. 'You run round with a werewolf once a month - ' 'Keep your voice down,' implored Lupin. Harry looked anxiously behind him again. Snape remained close by, still buried in his exam questions - but this was Snape's memory and Harry was sure that if Snape chose to wander off in a different direction once outside in the grounds, he, Harry, would not be able to follow James any further. To his intense relief, however, when James and his three friends strode off down the lawn towards the lake, Snape followed, still poring over the exam paper and apparently with no fixed idea of where he was going. By keeping a little ahead of him, Harry managed to maintain a close watch on James and the others. 'Well, I thought that paper was a piece of c

towards the doors to the Entrance Hall, still absorbed in his own exam paper. Round-shouldered yet angular, he walked in a twitchy manner that recalled a spider, and his oily hair was jumping about his face. A gang of chattering girls separated Snape from James, Sirius and Lupin, and by planting himself in their midst, Harry managed to keep Snape in sight while straining his ears to catch the voices of James and his friends. 'Did you like question ten, Moony?' asked Sirius as they emerged into the Entrance Hall. Loved it, said Lupin briskly. 'Give five signs that identify the werewolf. Excellent question.' 'D'you think you managed to get all the signs?' said James in tones of mock concern. 'Think I did,' said Lupin seriously, as they joined the crowd thronging around the front doors eager to get out into the sunlit grounds. 'One: he's sitting on my chair. Two: he's wearing my clothes. Three: his name's Remus Lupin.' Wormtail was the only one who didn't laugh. 'I got the snout shape, the pupils of the eyes and the tufted tail,' he said anxiously, 'but I couldn't think what else - ' 'How thick are you, Wormtail?' said James impatiently. 'You run round with a werewolf once a month - ' 'Keep your voice down,' implored Lupin. Harry looked anxiously behind him again. Snape remained close by, still buried in his exam questions - but this was Snape's memory and Harry was sure that if Snape chose to wander off in a different direction once outside in the grounds, he, Harry, would not be able to follow James any further. To his intense relief, however, when James and his three friends strode off down the lawn towards the lake, Snape followed, still poring over the exam paper and apparently with no fixed idea of where he was going. By keeping a little ahead of him, Harry managed to maintain a close watch on James and the others. 'Well, I thought that paper was a piece of c

ake,' he heard Sir us say. 'I'll be surprised if I don't get "Outstanding" on it at least.' 'Me too,' said James. He put his hand in his pocket and took out a struggling Golden Snitch. 'Where'd you get that?' 'Nicked it,' said James casually. He started playing with the Snitch, allowing it to fly as much as a foot away before seizing it again; his reflexes were excellent. Wormtail watched him in awe. They stopped in the shade of the very same beech tree on the edge of the lake where Harry, Ron had once spent a Sunday finishing their homework, and threw themselves down on the grass. Harry looked over his shoulder yet again and saw, to his delight, that Snape had settled himself on the grass in the dense shadow of a clump of bushes. He was as deeply immersed in the OWL paper as ever, which left Harry free to sit down on the grass between the beech and the bushes and watch the foursome under the tree. The sunlight was dazzling on the smooth surface of the lake, on the bank of which the group of laughing girls who had just left the Great Hall were sitting, with their shoes and socks off, cooling their feet in the water. Lupin had pulled out a book and was reading. Sirius stared around at the students milling over the grass, looking rather haughty and bored, but very handsomely so. James was still playing with the Snitch, letting it zoom further and further away, almost escaping but always grabbed at the last second. Wormtail was watching him with his mouth open. Every time James made a particularly difficult catch, Wormtail gasped and applauded. After five minutes of this, Harry wondered why James didn't tell Wormtail to get a grip on himself, but James seemed to be enjoying the attention. Harry noticed that his father had a habit of rumpling up his hair as though to keep it from getting Loo tidy, and he also kept looking over at the girls by the waters edge. 'Put that away, will you,' said Sirius finally, as James made a fine catch and Wormtail let out a cheer, 'before Wormtail wets himself with

,' he heard Sir us say. 'I'll be surprised if I don't get "Outstanding" on it at least.' 'Me too,' said James. He put his hand in his pocket and took out a struggling Golden Snitch. 'Where'd you get that?' 'Nicked it,' said James casually. He started playing with the Snitch, allowing it to fly as much as a foot away before seizing it again; his reflexes were excellent. Wormtail watched him in awe. They stopped in the shade of the very same beech tree on the edge of the lake where Harry, Ron had once spent a Sunday finishing their homework, and threw themselves down on the grass. Harry looked over his shoulder yet again and saw, to his delight, that Snape had settled himself on the grass in the dense shadow of a clump of bushes. He was as deeply immersed in the OWL paper as ever, which left Harry free to sit down on the grass between the beech and the bushes and watch the foursome under the tree. The sunlight was dazzling on the smooth surface of the lake, on the bank of which the group of laughing girls who had just left the Great Hall were sitting, with their shoes and socks off, cooling their feet in the water. Lupin had pulled out a book and was reading. Sirius stared around at the students milling over the grass, looking rather haughty and bored, but very handsomely so. James was still playing with the Snitch, letting it zoom further and further away, almost escaping but always grabbed at the last second. Wormtail was watching him with his mouth open. Every time James made a particularly difficult catch, Wormtail gasped and applauded. After five minutes of this, Harry wondered why James didn't tell Wormtail to get a grip on himself, but James seemed to be enjoying the attention. Harry noticed that his father had a habit of rumpling up his hair as though to keep it from getting Loo tidy, and he also kept looking over at the girls by the waters edge. 'Put that away, will you,' said Sirius finally, as James made a fine catch and Wormtail let out a cheer, 'before Wormtail wets himself with

excitement.' Wormtail turned slightly pink, but James grinned. 'If it bothers you,' he said, stuffing the Snitch back in his pocket. Harry had the distinct impression that Sirius was the only one for whom James would have stopped showing off. 'I'm bored,' said Sirius. 'Wish it was full moon.' 'You might,' said Lupin darkly from behind his book. We've still got Transfiguration, if you're bored you could test me. Here...' and he held out his book. But Sirius snorted. 'I don't need to look at that rubbish, I know it all.' 'This'll liven you up, Padfoot,' said James quietly. 'Look who it is Sirius's head turned. He became very still, like a dog that has scented a rabbit. 'Excellent,' he said softly. 'Snivellus.' Harry turned to see what Sirius was looking at. Snape was on his feet again, and was stowing the OWL paper in his bag. As he left the shadows of the bushes and set off across the grass, Sirius and James stood up. Lupin and Wormtail remained sitting: Lupin was still staring down at his book, though his eyes were not moving and a faint frown line had appeared between his eyebrows; Wormtail was looking from Sirius and James to Snape with a look of avid anticipation on his face. 'All right, Snivellus?' said James loudly. Snape reacted so fast it was as though he had been expecting an attack: dropping his bag, he plunged his hand inside his robes and his wand was halfway into the air when James shouted, 'Expelliarmus!' Snape's wand flew twelve feet into the air and fell with a little thud in the grass behind him. Sirius let out a bark of laughter. 'Impedimenta!' he said, pointing his wand at Snape, who was knocked off his feet halfway through a dive towards his own fallen wand. Students all around had turned to watch.

.' Wormtail turned slightly pink, but James grinned. 'If it bothers you,' he said, stuffing the Snitch back in his pocket. Harry had the distinct impression that Sirius was the only one for whom James would have stopped showing off. 'I'm bored,' said Sirius. 'Wish it was full moon.' 'You might,' said Lupin darkly from behind his book. We've still got Transfiguration, if you're bored you could test me. Here...' and he held out his book. But Sirius snorted. 'I don't need to look at that rubbish, I know it all.' 'This'll liven you up, Padfoot,' said James quietly. 'Look who it is Sirius's head turned. He became very still, like a dog that has scented a rabbit. 'Excellent,' he said softly. 'Snivellus.' Harry turned to see what Sirius was looking at. Snape was on his feet again, and was stowing the OWL paper in his bag. As he left the shadows of the bushes and set off across the grass, Sirius and James stood up. Lupin and Wormtail remained sitting: Lupin was still staring down at his book, though his eyes were not moving and a faint frown line had appeared between his eyebrows; Wormtail was looking from Sirius and James to Snape with a look of avid anticipation on his face. 'All right, Snivellus?' said James loudly. Snape reacted so fast it was as though he had been expecting an attack: dropping his bag, he plunged his hand inside his robes and his wand was halfway into the air when James shouted, 'Expelliarmus!' Snape's wand flew twelve feet into the air and fell with a little thud in the grass behind him. Sirius let out a bark of laughter. 'Impedimenta!' he said, pointing his wand at Snape, who was knocked off his feet halfway through a dive towards his own fallen wand. Students all around had turned to watch.

Some of them had got to their feet and were edging nearer. Some looked apprehensive, others entertained. Snape lay panting on the ground. James and Sirius advanced on him, wands raised, James glancing over his shoulder at the girls at the water's edge as he went. Wormtail was on his feet now, watching hungrily, edging around Lupin to get a clearer view. 'How'd the exam go, Snivelly?' said James. 'I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment,' said Sirius viciously. There'll be great grease marks all over it, they won't be able to read a word.' Several people watching laughed; Snape was clearly unpopular. Wormtail sniggered shrilly. Snape was trying to get up, but the jinx was still operating on him; he was struggling, as though bound by invisible ropes. 'You - wait,' he panted, staring up at James with an expression of purest loathing, 'you - wait!' 'Wait for what?' said Sirius coolly. 'What're you going to do, Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?' Snape let out a stream of mixed swear words and hexes, but with his wand ten feet away nothing happened. 'Wash out your mouth,' said James coldly. 'Scourgify!' Pink soap bubbles streamed from Snape's mouth at once; the froth was covering his lips, making him gag, choking him - ' 'Leave him ALONE!' James and Sirius looked round. James's free hand immediately jumped to his hair. It was one of the girls from the lake edge. She had thick, dark red hair that fell to her shoulders, and startlingly green almond-shaped eyes - Harry's eyes. Harry's mother. 'All right, Evans?' said James, and the tone of his voice was suddenly pleasant, deeper, more mature. 'Leave him alone,' Lily repeated. She was looking at James with every sign of great dislike. 'What's he done to you?' 'Well,' said James, appearing

of them had got to their feet and were edging nearer. Some looked apprehensive, others entertained. Snape lay panting on the ground. James and Sirius advanced on him, wands raised, James glancing over his shoulder at the girls at the water's edge as he went. Wormtail was on his feet now, watching hungrily, edging around Lupin to get a clearer view. 'How'd the exam go, Snivelly?' said James. 'I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment,' said Sirius viciously. There'll be great grease marks all over it, they won't be able to read a word.' Several people watching laughed; Snape was clearly unpopular. Wormtail sniggered shrilly. Snape was trying to get up, but the jinx was still operating on him; he was struggling, as though bound by invisible ropes. 'You - wait,' he panted, staring up at James with an expression of purest loathing, 'you - wait!' 'Wait for what?' said Sirius coolly. 'What're you going to do, Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?' Snape let out a stream of mixed swear words and hexes, but with his wand ten feet away nothing happened. 'Wash out your mouth,' said James coldly. 'Scourgify!' Pink soap bubbles streamed from Snape's mouth at once; the froth was covering his lips, making him gag, choking him - ' 'Leave him ALONE!' James and Sirius looked round. James's free hand immediately jumped to his hair. It was one of the girls from the lake edge. She had thick, dark red hair that fell to her shoulders, and startlingly green almond-shaped eyes - Harry's eyes. Harry's mother. 'All right, Evans?' said James, and the tone of his voice was suddenly pleasant, deeper, more mature. 'Leave him alone,' Lily repeated. She was looking at James with every sign of great dislike. 'What's he done to you?' 'Well,' said James, appearing

to deliberate the point, 'it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean...' Many of the surrounding students laughed, Sirius and Wormtail included, but Lupin, still apparently intent on his book, didn't, and nor did Lily. 'You think you're funny,' she said coldly. 'But you're just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone.' 'I will if you go out with me, Evans,' said James quickly. 'Go on... go out with me and I'll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again.' Behind him, the Impediment Jinx was wearing off. Snape was beginning to inch towards his fallen wand, spitting out soapsuds as he crawled. 'I wouldn't go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid,' said Lily. 'Bad luck, Prongs,' said Sirius briskly, and turned back to Snape. 'OI!' But too late; Snape had directed his wand straight at James; there was a flash of light and a gash appeared on the side of James's face, spattering his robes with blood. James whirled about: a second flash of light later, Snape was hanging upside-down in the air, his robes falling over his head to reveal skinny, pallid legs and a pair of greying underpants. Many people in the small crowd cheered; Sirius, James and Wormtail roared with laughter. Lily, whose furious expression had twitched for an instant as though she was going to smile, said, 'Let him down!' 'Certainly,' said James and he jerked his wand upwards; Snape fell into a crumpled heap on the ground. Disentangling himself from his robes he got quickly to his feet, wand up, but Sirius said, 'Petrificus Totalus!' and Snape keeled over again, rigid as a board. 'LEAVE HIM ALONE!' Lily shouted. She had her own wand out now. James and Siri

deliberate the point, 'it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean...' Many of the surrounding students laughed, Sirius and Wormtail included, but Lupin, still apparently intent on his book, didn't, and nor did Lily. 'You think you're funny,' she said coldly. 'But you're just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone.' 'I will if you go out with me, Evans,' said James quickly. 'Go on... go out with me and I'll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again.' Behind him, the Impediment Jinx was wearing off. Snape was beginning to inch towards his fallen wand, spitting out soapsuds as he crawled. 'I wouldn't go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid,' said Lily. 'Bad luck, Prongs,' said Sirius briskly, and turned back to Snape. 'OI!' But too late; Snape had directed his wand straight at James; there was a flash of light and a gash appeared on the side of James's face, spattering his robes with blood. James whirled about: a second flash of light later, Snape was hanging upside-down in the air, his robes falling over his head to reveal skinny, pallid legs and a pair of greying underpants. Many people in the small crowd cheered; Sirius, James and Wormtail roared with laughter. Lily, whose furious expression had twitched for an instant as though she was going to smile, said, 'Let him down!' 'Certainly,' said James and he jerked his wand upwards; Snape fell into a crumpled heap on the ground. Disentangling himself from his robes he got quickly to his feet, wand up, but Sirius said, 'Petrificus Totalus!' and Snape keeled over again, rigid as a board. 'LEAVE HIM ALONE!' Lily shouted. She had her own wand out now. James and Siri

us eyed it warily. 'Ah, Evans, don't make me hex you,' said James earnestly. Take the curse off him, then!' James sighed deeply, then turned to Snape and muttered the counter-curse. There you go,' he said, as Snape struggled to his feet. 'You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus - ' 'I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!' Lily blinked. 'Fine,' she said coolly. 'I won't bother in future. And I'd wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus.' 'Apologise to Evans!' James roared at Snape, his wand pointed threateningly at him. 'I don't want you to make him apologise,' Lily shouted, rounding on James. 'You're as bad as he is.' 'What?' yelped James. 'Id NEVER call you a - you-know-what!' 'Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you've just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can - I'm surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK.' She turned on her heel and hurried away. 'Evans!' James shouted after her. 'Hey, EVANS!' But she didn't look back. 'What is it with her?' said James, trying and failing to look as though this was a throwaway question of no real importance to him. 'Reading between the lines, I'd say she thinks you're a bit conceited, mate,' said Sirius. 'Right,' said James, who looked furious now, 'right - ' There was another flash of light, and Snape was once again hanging upside-down in the air. 'Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?' But whether James really did take off Snape's pants, Harry never found out. A hand had

eyed it warily. 'Ah, Evans, don't make me hex you,' said James earnestly. Take the curse off him, then!' James sighed deeply, then turned to Snape and muttered the counter-curse. There you go,' he said, as Snape struggled to his feet. 'You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus - ' 'I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!' Lily blinked. 'Fine,' she said coolly. 'I won't bother in future. And I'd wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus.' 'Apologise to Evans!' James roared at Snape, his wand pointed threateningly at him. 'I don't want you to make him apologise,' Lily shouted, rounding on James. 'You're as bad as he is.' 'What?' yelped James. 'Id NEVER call you a - you-know-what!' 'Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you've just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can - I'm surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK.' She turned on her heel and hurried away. 'Evans!' James shouted after her. 'Hey, EVANS!' But she didn't look back. 'What is it with her?' said James, trying and failing to look as though this was a throwaway question of no real importance to him. 'Reading between the lines, I'd say she thinks you're a bit conceited, mate,' said Sirius. 'Right,' said James, who looked furious now, 'right - ' There was another flash of light, and Snape was once again hanging upside-down in the air. 'Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?' But whether James really did take off Snape's pants, Harry never found out. A hand had

closed tight over his upper arm, closed with a pincer-like grip. Wincing, Harry looked round to see who had hold of him, and saw, with a thrill of horror, a fully grown, adult-sized Snape standing right beside him, white with rage. 'Having fun?' Harry felt himself rising into the air; the summer's day evaporated around him; he was floating upwards through icy blackness, Snape's hand still tight upon his upper arm. Then, with a swooping feeling as though he had turned head-over-heels in midair, his feet hit the stone floor of Snape's dungeon and he was standing again beside the Pensieve on Snape's desk in the shadowy, present-day Potion master's study. 'So,' said Snape, gripping Harry's arm so tightly Harry's hand was starting to feel numb. 'So... been enjoying yourself, Potter?' 'N-no,' said Harry, trying to free his arm. It was scary: Snape's lips were shaking, his face was white, his teeth were bared. 'Amusing man, your father, wasn't he?' said Snape, shaking Harry so hard his glasses slipped down his nose. 'I - didn't - ' Snape threw Harry from him with all his might. Harry fell hard on to the dungeon floor. 'You will not repeat what you saw to anybody!' Snape bellowed. 'No,' said Harry, getting to his feet as far from Snape as he could. 'No, of course I w- 'Get out, get out, I don't want to see you in this office ever again!' And as Harry hurtled towards the door, a jar of dead cockroaches exploded over his head. He wrenched the door open and Hew along the corridor, stopping only when he had put three floors between himself and Snape. There he leaned against the wall, panting, and rubbing his bruised arm. He had no desire at all to return to Gryffindor Tower so early, nor to tell Ron what he had

tight over his upper arm, closed with a pincer-like grip. Wincing, Harry looked round to see who had hold of him, and saw, with a thrill of horror, a fully grown, adult-sized Snape standing right beside him, white with rage. 'Having fun?' Harry felt himself rising into the air; the summer's day evaporated around him; he was floating upwards through icy blackness, Snape's hand still tight upon his upper arm. Then, with a swooping feeling as though he had turned head-over-heels in midair, his feet hit the stone floor of Snape's dungeon and he was standing again beside the Pensieve on Snape's desk in the shadowy, present-day Potion master's study. 'So,' said Snape, gripping Harry's arm so tightly Harry's hand was starting to feel numb. 'So... been enjoying yourself, Potter?' 'N-no,' said Harry, trying to free his arm. It was scary: Snape's lips were shaking, his face was white, his teeth were bared. 'Amusing man, your father, wasn't he?' said Snape, shaking Harry so hard his glasses slipped down his nose. 'I - didn't - ' Snape threw Harry from him with all his might. Harry fell hard on to the dungeon floor. 'You will not repeat what you saw to anybody!' Snape bellowed. 'No,' said Harry, getting to his feet as far from Snape as he could. 'No, of course I w- 'Get out, get out, I don't want to see you in this office ever again!' And as Harry hurtled towards the door, a jar of dead cockroaches exploded over his head. He wrenched the door open and Hew along the corridor, stopping only when he had put three floors between himself and Snape. There he leaned against the wall, panting, and rubbing his bruised arm. He had no desire at all to return to Gryffindor Tower so early, nor to tell Ron what he had

just seen. What was making Harry feel so horrified and unhappy was not being shouted at or having jars thrown at him; it was that he knew how it felt to be humiliated in the middle of a circle of onlookers, knew exactly how Snape had felt as his father had taunted him, and that judging from what he had just seen, his father had been every bit as arrogant as Snape had always told him. 'I've told you,' Harry muttered. 'Pretty much,' said Harry, not looking at her. 'Harry, I think you should go back to him and ask - ' 'No,' said Harry forcefully. Harry and Ron had let her do it; ii. was easier than arguing with her and, in any case, they might come in useful. Ron had been startled to discover there were only six weeks left until their exams. 'I dunno,' said Ron, 'there's been a lot going on.' 'Well, there you are,' she said, handing him his timetable, 'if you follow that you should do fine.' Ron looked down it gloomily, but then brightened. The smile faded from Ron's face. 'What's the point?' he said dully. 'What's wrong, Harry?' 'What?' he said quickly. 'Nothing.' He seized his copy of Defensive Magical Theory and pretended to be looking something up in the index. 'She looked really miserable, too... have you two had a row again?' 'Wha- oh, yeah, we have,' said Harry, seizing gratefully on the excuse. 'What about?' That sneak friend of hers, Marietta,' said Harry. 'Yeah, well, I don't blame you!' said Ron angrily, setting down his revision timetable. 'If it hadn't been for her...' Ron went into a rant about Marietta Edgecombe, which Harry found helpful; all he had to do was look angry, nod and say 'Yeah' and That's right' whenever Ron drew breath, leaving his mind free to dwell, ever more miserably, on what he had seen in

seen. What was making Harry feel so horrified and unhappy was not being shouted at or having jars thrown at him; it was that he knew how it felt to be humiliated in the middle of a circle of onlookers, knew exactly how Snape had felt as his father had taunted him, and that judging from what he had just seen, his father had been every bit as arrogant as Snape had always told him. 'I've told you,' Harry muttered. 'Pretty much,' said Harry, not looking at her. 'Harry, I think you should go back to him and ask - ' 'No,' said Harry forcefully. Harry and Ron had let her do it; ii. was easier than arguing with her and, in any case, they might come in useful. Ron had been startled to discover there were only six weeks left until their exams. 'I dunno,' said Ron, 'there's been a lot going on.' 'Well, there you are,' she said, handing him his timetable, 'if you follow that you should do fine.' Ron looked down it gloomily, but then brightened. The smile faded from Ron's face. 'What's the point?' he said dully. 'What's wrong, Harry?' 'What?' he said quickly. 'Nothing.' He seized his copy of Defensive Magical Theory and pretended to be looking something up in the index. 'She looked really miserable, too... have you two had a row again?' 'Wha- oh, yeah, we have,' said Harry, seizing gratefully on the excuse. 'What about?' That sneak friend of hers, Marietta,' said Harry. 'Yeah, well, I don't blame you!' said Ron angrily, setting down his revision timetable. 'If it hadn't been for her...' Ron went into a rant about Marietta Edgecombe, which Harry found helpful; all he had to do was look angry, nod and say 'Yeah' and That's right' whenever Ron drew breath, leaving his mind free to dwell, ever more miserably, on what he had seen in

the Pensieve. He felt as though the memory of it was eating him from inside. He had been so sure his parents were wonderful people that he had never had the slightest difficulty in disbelieving the aspersions Snape cast on his father's character. Hadn't people like Hagrid and Sirius told Harry how wonderful his father had been? (Yeah, well, look what Sirius was like himself, said a nagging voice inside Harry's head... he was as bad, wasn't he?) Yes, he had once overheard Professor McGonagall saying that his father and Sirius had been troublemakers at school, but she had described them as forerunners of the Weasley twins, and Harry could not imagine Fred and George dangling someone upside-down for the fun of it... not unless they really loathed them... perhaps Malfoy or somebody who really deserved it. Harry tried to make a case for Snape having deserved what he had suffered at James's hands: but hadn't Lily asked, 'What's he done to you?' And hadn't James replied, 'It's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean.' Hadn't James started it all simply because Sirius had said he was bored? Harry remembered Lupin saying back in Grimmauld Place that Dumbledore had made him prefect in the hope that he would be able to exercise some control over James and Sirius... but in the Pensieve, he had sat there and let it all happen... Harry kept reminding himself that Lily had intervened; his mother had been decent. Yet, the memory of the look on her face as she had shouted at James disturbed him quite as much as anything else; she had clearly loathed James, and Harry simply could not understand how they could have ended up married. Once or twice he even wondered whether James had forced her into it... For nearly five years the thought of his father had been a source of comfort, of inspiration. Whenever someone had told him he was like James, he had glowed with pride inside. And now... now he felt cold and miserable at the thought of him. The weather grew breezier

Pensieve. He felt as though the memory of it was eating him from inside. He had been so sure his parents were wonderful people that he had never had the slightest difficulty in disbelieving the aspersions Snape cast on his father's character. Hadn't people like Hagrid and Sirius told Harry how wonderful his father had been? (Yeah, well, look what Sirius was like himself, said a nagging voice inside Harry's head... he was as bad, wasn't he?) Yes, he had once overheard Professor McGonagall saying that his father and Sirius had been troublemakers at school, but she had described them as forerunners of the Weasley twins, and Harry could not imagine Fred and George dangling someone upside-down for the fun of it... not unless they really loathed them... perhaps Malfoy or somebody who really deserved it. Harry tried to make a case for Snape having deserved what he had suffered at James's hands: but hadn't Lily asked, 'What's he done to you?' And hadn't James replied, 'It's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean.' Hadn't James started it all simply because Sirius had said he was bored? Harry remembered Lupin saying back in Grimmauld Place that Dumbledore had made him prefect in the hope that he would be able to exercise some control over James and Sirius... but in the Pensieve, he had sat there and let it all happen... Harry kept reminding himself that Lily had intervened; his mother had been decent. Yet, the memory of the look on her face as she had shouted at James disturbed him quite as much as anything else; she had clearly loathed James, and Harry simply could not understand how they could have ended up married. Once or twice he even wondered whether James had forced her into it... For nearly five years the thought of his father had been a source of comfort, of inspiration. Whenever someone had told him he was like James, he had glowed with pride inside. And now... now he felt cold and miserable at the thought of him. The weather grew breezier

, brighter and warmer as the Easter holidays passed, but Harry, along with the rest of the fifth- and seventh-years, was trapped inside, revising, traipsing back and forth to the library. Harry pretended his bad mood had no other cause but the approaching exams, and as his fellow Gryffindors were sick of studying themselves, his excuse went unchallenged. 'Harry, I'm talking to you, can you hear me?' 'Huh?' He looked round. Ginny Weasley, looking very windswept, had joined him at the library table where he had been sitting alone. 'Oh, hi,' said Harry, pulling his books towards him. 'How come you're not at practice?' 'It's over,' said Ginny. 'Ron had to take Jack Sloper up to the hospital wing.' 'Why?' 'Well, we're not sure, but we think he knocked himself out with his own bat.' She sighed heavily. 'Anyway... a package just arrived, it's only just got through Umbridge's new screening process.' She hoisted a box wrapped in brown paper on to the table; it had clearly been unwrapped and carelessly re-wrapped. There was a scribbled note across it in red ink, reading: Inspected and Passed by the Hogwarts High Inquisitor. 'It's Easter eggs from Mum,' said Ginny. There's one for you... there you go.' She handed him a handsome chocolate egg decorated with small, iced Snitches and, according to the packaging, containing a bag of Fizzing Whizzbees. Harry looked at it for a moment, then, to his horror, felt a lump rise in his throat. 'Are you OK, Harry?' Ginny asked quietly. 'Yeah, I'm fine,' said Harry gruffly. The lump in his throat was painful. He did not understand why an Easter egg should have made him feel like this. 'You seem really down lately,' Ginny persisted. 'You know, I'm sure if you just talked to Cho

brighter and warmer as the Easter holidays passed, but Harry, along with the rest of the fifth- and seventh-years, was trapped inside, revising, traipsing back and forth to the library. Harry pretended his bad mood had no other cause but the approaching exams, and as his fellow Gryffindors were sick of studying themselves, his excuse went unchallenged. 'Harry, I'm talking to you, can you hear me?' 'Huh?' He looked round. Ginny Weasley, looking very windswept, had joined him at the library table where he had been sitting alone. 'Oh, hi,' said Harry, pulling his books towards him. 'How come you're not at practice?' 'It's over,' said Ginny. 'Ron had to take Jack Sloper up to the hospital wing.' 'Why?' 'Well, we're not sure, but we think he knocked himself out with his own bat.' She sighed heavily. 'Anyway... a package just arrived, it's only just got through Umbridge's new screening process.' She hoisted a box wrapped in brown paper on to the table; it had clearly been unwrapped and carelessly re-wrapped. There was a scribbled note across it in red ink, reading: Inspected and Passed by the Hogwarts High Inquisitor. 'It's Easter eggs from Mum,' said Ginny. There's one for you... there you go.' She handed him a handsome chocolate egg decorated with small, iced Snitches and, according to the packaging, containing a bag of Fizzing Whizzbees. Harry looked at it for a moment, then, to his horror, felt a lump rise in his throat. 'Are you OK, Harry?' Ginny asked quietly. 'Yeah, I'm fine,' said Harry gruffly. The lump in his throat was painful. He did not understand why an Easter egg should have made him feel like this. 'You seem really down lately,' Ginny persisted. 'You know, I'm sure if you just talked to Cho

...' 'It's not Cho I want to talk to,' said Harry brusquely. 'Who is it, then?' asked Ginny, watching him closely. 'I...' He glanced around to make quite sure nobody was listening. Madam Pince was several shelves away, stamping out a pile cf books for a frantic-looking Hannah Abbott. 'I wish I could talk to Sirius,' he muttered. 'But I know I can't.' Ginny continued to watch him thoughtfully. More to give himself something to do than because he really wanted any, Harry unwrapped his Easter egg, broke off a large bit and put it into his mouth. 'Well,' said Ginny slowly, helping herself to a bit of egg, too, 'if you really want to talk to Sirius, I expect we could think of a way to do it.' 'Come on,' said Harry dully. 'With Umbridge policing the fires and reading all our mail?' The thing about growing up with Fred and George,' said Ginny thoughtfully, 'is that you sort of start thinking anything's possible if you've got enough nerve.' Harry looked at her. Perhaps it was the effect of the chocolate - '- Lupin had always advised eating some after encounters with Dementors - or simply because he had finally spoken aloud the wish that had been burning inside him for a week, but he felt a bit more hopeful. 'WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?' 'Oh damn,' whispered Ginny, jumping to her feet. 'I forgot - ' Madam Pince was swooping down on them, her shrivelled face contorted with rage. 'Chocolate in the library!' she screamed. 'Out - out - OUT!' And whipping out her wand, she caused Harry's books, bag and ink bottle to chase him and Ginny from the library, whacking them repeatedly over the head as they ran. * As though to underline the importance of their upcoming examinations, a batch of pamphlets, leaflets and notices concerning various wizarding careers appeared

..' 'It's not Cho I want to talk to,' said Harry brusquely. 'Who is it, then?' asked Ginny, watching him closely. 'I...' He glanced around to make quite sure nobody was listening. Madam Pince was several shelves away, stamping out a pile cf books for a frantic-looking Hannah Abbott. 'I wish I could talk to Sirius,' he muttered. 'But I know I can't.' Ginny continued to watch him thoughtfully. More to give himself something to do than because he really wanted any, Harry unwrapped his Easter egg, broke off a large bit and put it into his mouth. 'Well,' said Ginny slowly, helping herself to a bit of egg, too, 'if you really want to talk to Sirius, I expect we could think of a way to do it.' 'Come on,' said Harry dully. 'With Umbridge policing the fires and reading all our mail?' The thing about growing up with Fred and George,' said Ginny thoughtfully, 'is that you sort of start thinking anything's possible if you've got enough nerve.' Harry looked at her. Perhaps it was the effect of the chocolate - '- Lupin had always advised eating some after encounters with Dementors - or simply because he had finally spoken aloud the wish that had been burning inside him for a week, but he felt a bit more hopeful. 'WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?' 'Oh damn,' whispered Ginny, jumping to her feet. 'I forgot - ' Madam Pince was swooping down on them, her shrivelled face contorted with rage. 'Chocolate in the library!' she screamed. 'Out - out - OUT!' And whipping out her wand, she caused Harry's books, bag and ink bottle to chase him and Ginny from the library, whacking them repeatedly over the head as they ran. * As though to underline the importance of their upcoming examinations, a batch of pamphlets, leaflets and notices concerning various wizarding careers appeared

on the tables in Gryffindor Tower shortly before the end of the holidays, along with yet another notice on the board, which read: CAREERS ADVICE All fifth-years are required to attend a short meeting with their Head of House during the first week of the summer term to discuss their future careers. Times of individual appointments are listed below. Harry looked down the list and found that he was expected in Professor McGonagall's office at half past two on Monday, which would mean missing most of Divination. He and the other fifth-years spent a considerable part of the final weekend of the Easter break reading all the careers information that had been left there for their perusal. 'Well, I don't fancy Healing,' said Ron on the last evening of the holidays. He was immersed in a leaflet that carried the crossed bone-and-wand emblem of St Mungo's on its front. 'It says here you need at least "E" at NEWT level in Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts. I mean... blimey... She was poring over a bright pink and orange leaflet, that was headed, 'SO YOU THINK YOU'D LIKE TO WORK IN MUGGLE RELATIONS?' 'You don't seem to need many qualifications to liaise with Muggles; all they want is an OWL in Muggle Studies: Much more important is your enthusiasm, patience and a good sense of fun!' 'You'd need more than a good sense of fun to liaise with my uncle,' said Harry darkly. 'Good sense of when to duck, more like.' He was halfway through a pamphlet on wizard banking. 'Listen to this: Are you seeking a challenging career involving travel, adventure and substantial, danger-related treasure bonuses? Then consider a position with Gringotts Wizarding Bank, who are currently recruiting Curse-Breakers for thrilling opportunities abroad... He looked round; Fred and George had come to join them. 'Ginny's had a word with us about you,' said Fred, stretching out his

the tables in Gryffindor Tower shortly before the end of the holidays, along with yet another notice on the board, which read: CAREERS ADVICE All fifth-years are required to attend a short meeting with their Head of House during the first week of the summer term to discuss their future careers. Times of individual appointments are listed below. Harry looked down the list and found that he was expected in Professor McGonagall's office at half past two on Monday, which would mean missing most of Divination. He and the other fifth-years spent a considerable part of the final weekend of the Easter break reading all the careers information that had been left there for their perusal. 'Well, I don't fancy Healing,' said Ron on the last evening of the holidays. He was immersed in a leaflet that carried the crossed bone-and-wand emblem of St Mungo's on its front. 'It says here you need at least "E" at NEWT level in Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts. I mean... blimey... She was poring over a bright pink and orange leaflet, that was headed, 'SO YOU THINK YOU'D LIKE TO WORK IN MUGGLE RELATIONS?' 'You don't seem to need many qualifications to liaise with Muggles; all they want is an OWL in Muggle Studies: Much more important is your enthusiasm, patience and a good sense of fun!' 'You'd need more than a good sense of fun to liaise with my uncle,' said Harry darkly. 'Good sense of when to duck, more like.' He was halfway through a pamphlet on wizard banking. 'Listen to this: Are you seeking a challenging career involving travel, adventure and substantial, danger-related treasure bonuses? Then consider a position with Gringotts Wizarding Bank, who are currently recruiting Curse-Breakers for thrilling opportunities abroad... He looked round; Fred and George had come to join them. 'Ginny's had a word with us about you,' said Fred, stretching out his

legs on the table in front of them and causing several booklets on careers with the Ministry of Magic to slide off on to the floor. 'Yeah.. 'With Umbridge groping around in the fires and frisking all the owls?' 'Well, we think we can find a way around that,' said George, stretching and smiling. 'It's a simple matter of causing a diversion. Now, you might have noticed that we have been rather quiet on the mayhem front during the Easter holidays?' 'What was the point, we asked ourselves, of disrupting leisure time?' continued Fred. 'No point at all, we answered ourselves. She looked rather taken aback by this thoughtfulness. 'But it's business as usual from tomorrow,' Fred continued briskly. He had been thinking about it for a fortnight and could come up with no alternative. Umbridge herself had told him that the only fire that was not being watched was her own. Ron had lowered his leaflet on jobs in the Cultivated Fungus Trade and was watching the conversation warily. 'I don't think so,' said Harry, shrugging. 'And how are you going to get in there in the first place?' Harry was ready for this question. 'Sirius's knife,' he said. 'Excuse me?' 'Christmas before last Sirius gave me a knife that'll open any lock,' said Harry. 'I dunno,' said Ron, looking alarmed at being asked to give an opinion. 'If Harry wants to do it, it's up to him, isn't it?' 'Spoken like a true friend and Weasley,' said Fred, clapping Ron hard on the back. 'Right, then. We're thinking of doing it tomorrow, just after lessons, because it should cause maximum impact ii everybody's in the corridors - Harry, we'll set it off in the east wing somewhere, draw her right away from her own office - I reckon we should be able to guarantee you, what, twenty minutes?' he said, looking at George. 'Easy,' said George. 'What sort of diversion is it?' asked Ron. 'You'll see,

on the table in front of them and causing several booklets on careers with the Ministry of Magic to slide off on to the floor. 'Yeah.. 'With Umbridge groping around in the fires and frisking all the owls?' 'Well, we think we can find a way around that,' said George, stretching and smiling. 'It's a simple matter of causing a diversion. Now, you might have noticed that we have been rather quiet on the mayhem front during the Easter holidays?' 'What was the point, we asked ourselves, of disrupting leisure time?' continued Fred. 'No point at all, we answered ourselves. She looked rather taken aback by this thoughtfulness. 'But it's business as usual from tomorrow,' Fred continued briskly. He had been thinking about it for a fortnight and could come up with no alternative. Umbridge herself had told him that the only fire that was not being watched was her own. Ron had lowered his leaflet on jobs in the Cultivated Fungus Trade and was watching the conversation warily. 'I don't think so,' said Harry, shrugging. 'And how are you going to get in there in the first place?' Harry was ready for this question. 'Sirius's knife,' he said. 'Excuse me?' 'Christmas before last Sirius gave me a knife that'll open any lock,' said Harry. 'I dunno,' said Ron, looking alarmed at being asked to give an opinion. 'If Harry wants to do it, it's up to him, isn't it?' 'Spoken like a true friend and Weasley,' said Fred, clapping Ron hard on the back. 'Right, then. We're thinking of doing it tomorrow, just after lessons, because it should cause maximum impact ii everybody's in the corridors - Harry, we'll set it off in the east wing somewhere, draw her right away from her own office - I reckon we should be able to guarantee you, what, twenty minutes?' he said, looking at George. 'Easy,' said George. 'What sort of diversion is it?' asked Ron. 'You'll see,

little bro', said Fred, as he and George got up again. 'At least, you will if you trot along to Gregory the Smarmy's corridor round about five o'clock tomorrow.' * Harry awoke very early the next day, feeling almost as anxious as he had done on the morning of his disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic. It was not only the prospect of breaking into Umbridge's office and using her fire to speak to Sirius that was making him feel nervous, though that was certainly bad enough; today also happened to be the first time Harry would be in close proximity to Snape since Snape had thrown him out of his office. After lying in bed for a while thinking about the day ahead, Harry got up very quietly and moved across to the window beside Neville's bed, and stared out on a truly glorious morning. The sky was a clear, misty, opalescent blue. Directly ahead of him, Harry could see the towering beech tree below which his father had once tormented Snape. He was not sure what Sirius could possibly say to him that would make up for what he had seen in the Pensieve, but he was desperate to hear Sirius's own account of what had happened, to know of any mitigating factors there might have been, any excuse at all for his fathers behaviour... Something caught Harry's attention: movement on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Harry squinted into the sun and saw Hagrid emerging from between the trees. He seemed to be limping. As Harry watched, Hagrid staggered to the door of his cabin and disappeared inside it. Harry watched the cabin for several minutes. Hagrid did not emerge again, but smoke furled from the chimney, so Hagrid could not be so badly injured that he was unequal tc stoking the fire. Harry turned away from the window, headed back to his trunk and started to dress. With the prospect of forcing entry into Umbridge's office ahead. For the first time ever, she was at least as inattentive to Professor Binns in History of Magic as Harry and Ron were, keeping up a stream of whispered admonitions that Harry tried very hard to ignore. '... and

bro', said Fred, as he and George got up again. 'At least, you will if you trot along to Gregory the Smarmy's corridor round about five o'clock tomorrow.' * Harry awoke very early the next day, feeling almost as anxious as he had done on the morning of his disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic. It was not only the prospect of breaking into Umbridge's office and using her fire to speak to Sirius that was making him feel nervous, though that was certainly bad enough; today also happened to be the first time Harry would be in close proximity to Snape since Snape had thrown him out of his office. After lying in bed for a while thinking about the day ahead, Harry got up very quietly and moved across to the window beside Neville's bed, and stared out on a truly glorious morning. The sky was a clear, misty, opalescent blue. Directly ahead of him, Harry could see the towering beech tree below which his father had once tormented Snape. He was not sure what Sirius could possibly say to him that would make up for what he had seen in the Pensieve, but he was desperate to hear Sirius's own account of what had happened, to know of any mitigating factors there might have been, any excuse at all for his fathers behaviour... Something caught Harry's attention: movement on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Harry squinted into the sun and saw Hagrid emerging from between the trees. He seemed to be limping. As Harry watched, Hagrid staggered to the door of his cabin and disappeared inside it. Harry watched the cabin for several minutes. Hagrid did not emerge again, but smoke furled from the chimney, so Hagrid could not be so badly injured that he was unequal tc stoking the fire. Harry turned away from the window, headed back to his trunk and started to dress. With the prospect of forcing entry into Umbridge's office ahead. For the first time ever, she was at least as inattentive to Professor Binns in History of Magic as Harry and Ron were, keeping up a stream of whispered admonitions that Harry tried very hard to ignore. '... and

if she does catch you there, apart from being expelled, she'll be able to guess you've been talking to Snuffles and this time I expect she'll force you to drink Veritaserum and answer her questions.. Undeterred, she took advantage of their silence to maintain an uninterrupted flow oi dire warnings, all uttered under her breath in a vehement hiss that caused Seamus to waste five whole minutes checking his cauldron for leaks. Snape, meanwhile, seemed to have decided to act as though Harry were invisible. Harry was, of course, well-used to this tactic, as it was one of Uncle Vernons favourites, and on the whole was grateful he had to suffer nothing worse. In fact, compared to what he usually had to endure from Snape in the way of taunts and snide remarks, he found the new approach something of an improvement, and was pleased to find that when left well alone, he was able to concoct an Invigoration Draught quite easily. At the end of the lesson he scooped some of the potion into a flask, corked it and took it up to Snape's desk for marking, feeling that he might at last have scraped an 'E'. He had just turned away when he heard a smashing noise. Malfoy gave a gleeful yell of laughter. Harry whipped around. His potion sample lay in pieces on the floor and Snape was surveying him with a look of gloating pleasure. 'Whoops,' he said softly. 'Another zero, then, Potter.' Harry was too incensed to speak. He strode back to his cauldron, intending to fill another flask and force Snape to mark it, but saw to his horror that the rest of the contents had vanished. I'm really sorry, Harry. I thought you'd finished, so I cleared up!' Harry could not bring himself to answer. He was in such a bad mood by the time he got to Divination that he had quite forgotten his careers appointment with Professor McGonagall, remembering it only when Ron asked him why he wasn't in her office. He hurtled back upstairs and arrived out of breath, only a few minutes late.

she does catch you there, apart from being expelled, she'll be able to guess you've been talking to Snuffles and this time I expect she'll force you to drink Veritaserum and answer her questions.. Undeterred, she took advantage of their silence to maintain an uninterrupted flow oi dire warnings, all uttered under her breath in a vehement hiss that caused Seamus to waste five whole minutes checking his cauldron for leaks. Snape, meanwhile, seemed to have decided to act as though Harry were invisible. Harry was, of course, well-used to this tactic, as it was one of Uncle Vernons favourites, and on the whole was grateful he had to suffer nothing worse. In fact, compared to what he usually had to endure from Snape in the way of taunts and snide remarks, he found the new approach something of an improvement, and was pleased to find that when left well alone, he was able to concoct an Invigoration Draught quite easily. At the end of the lesson he scooped some of the potion into a flask, corked it and took it up to Snape's desk for marking, feeling that he might at last have scraped an 'E'. He had just turned away when he heard a smashing noise. Malfoy gave a gleeful yell of laughter. Harry whipped around. His potion sample lay in pieces on the floor and Snape was surveying him with a look of gloating pleasure. 'Whoops,' he said softly. 'Another zero, then, Potter.' Harry was too incensed to speak. He strode back to his cauldron, intending to fill another flask and force Snape to mark it, but saw to his horror that the rest of the contents had vanished. I'm really sorry, Harry. I thought you'd finished, so I cleared up!' Harry could not bring himself to answer. He was in such a bad mood by the time he got to Divination that he had quite forgotten his careers appointment with Professor McGonagall, remembering it only when Ron asked him why he wasn't in her office. He hurtled back upstairs and arrived out of breath, only a few minutes late.

'Sorry, Professor,' he panted, as he closed the door. 'I forgot.' 'No matter, Potter,' she said briskly, but as she spoke, somebody else sniffed from the corner. Harry looked round. Professor Umbridge was sitting there, a clipboard on her knee, a fussy little pie-frill around her neck and a small, horribly smug smile on her face. 'Sit down, Potter,' said Professor McGonagall tersely. Her hands shook slightly as she shuffled the many pamphlets littering her desk. Harry sat down with his back to Umbridge and did his best to pretend he could not hear the scratching of her quill on her clipboard. 'Well, Potter, this meeting is to talk over any career ideas you might have, and to help you decide which subjects you should continue into the sixth and seventh years,' said Professor McGonagall. 'Have you had any thoughts about what you would like to do after you leave Hogwarts?' 'Er -'said Harry. He was finding the scratching noise from behind him very distracting. 'Yes?' Professor McGonagall prompted Harry. 'Well, I thought of, maybe, being an Auror,' Harry mumbled. 'You'd need top grades for that,' said Professor McGonagall, extracting a small, dark leaflet from under the mass on her desk and opening it. They ask for a minimum of five NEWTs, and nothing under "Exceeds Expectations" grade, I see. Then you would be required to undergo a stringent series of character and aptitude tests at the Auror office. It's a difficult career path, Potter, they only take the best. In fact, I don't think anybody has been taken on in the last three years.' At this moment, Professor Umbridge gave a very tiny cough, as though she was trying to see how quietly she could do it. Professor McGonagall ignored her. 'You'll want to know which subjects you ought to take, I suppose?' she went on, talking a little louder than before. 'Yes,' said Harry. 'Defence Against the Dark Arts, I suppose?' 'Naturally,' said

Sorry, Professor,' he panted, as he closed the door. 'I forgot.' 'No matter, Potter,' she said briskly, but as she spoke, somebody else sniffed from the corner. Harry looked round. Professor Umbridge was sitting there, a clipboard on her knee, a fussy little pie-frill around her neck and a small, horribly smug smile on her face. 'Sit down, Potter,' said Professor McGonagall tersely. Her hands shook slightly as she shuffled the many pamphlets littering her desk. Harry sat down with his back to Umbridge and did his best to pretend he could not hear the scratching of her quill on her clipboard. 'Well, Potter, this meeting is to talk over any career ideas you might have, and to help you decide which subjects you should continue into the sixth and seventh years,' said Professor McGonagall. 'Have you had any thoughts about what you would like to do after you leave Hogwarts?' 'Er -'said Harry. He was finding the scratching noise from behind him very distracting. 'Yes?' Professor McGonagall prompted Harry. 'Well, I thought of, maybe, being an Auror,' Harry mumbled. 'You'd need top grades for that,' said Professor McGonagall, extracting a small, dark leaflet from under the mass on her desk and opening it. They ask for a minimum of five NEWTs, and nothing under "Exceeds Expectations" grade, I see. Then you would be required to undergo a stringent series of character and aptitude tests at the Auror office. It's a difficult career path, Potter, they only take the best. In fact, I don't think anybody has been taken on in the last three years.' At this moment, Professor Umbridge gave a very tiny cough, as though she was trying to see how quietly she could do it. Professor McGonagall ignored her. 'You'll want to know which subjects you ought to take, I suppose?' she went on, talking a little louder than before. 'Yes,' said Harry. 'Defence Against the Dark Arts, I suppose?' 'Naturally,' said

Professor McGonagall crisply. 'I would also advise -' Professor Umbridge gave another cough, a little more audible this time. Professor McGonagall closed her eyes for a moment, opened them again, and continued as though nothing had happened. 'I would also advise Transfiguration, because Aurors frequently need to Transfigure or Untransfigure in their work. And I ought to tell you now, Potter, that I do not accept students into my NEWT classes unless they have achieved "Exceeds Expectations" or higher at Ordinary Wizarding Level. I'd say you're averaging "Acceptable" at the moment, so you'll need to put in some good hard work before the exams to stand a chance of continuing. Then you ought to do Charms, always useful, and Potions. Yes, Potter, Potions,' she added, with the merest flicker of a smile. 'Poisons and antidotes are essential study for Aurors. And I must tell you that Professor Snape absolutely refuses to take students who get anything other than "Outstanding" in their OWLs, so - ' Professor Umbridge gave her most pronounced cough yet. 'May I offer you a cough drop, Dolores?' Professor McGonagall asked curtly, without looking at Professor Umbridge. 'Oh, no, thank you very much,' said Umbridge, with that simpering laugh Harry hated so much. 'I just wondered whether I could make the teensiest interruption, Minerva?' 'I daresay you'll find you can,' said Professor McGonagall through tightly gritted teeth. 'I was just wondering whether Mr Potter has quite the temperament for an Auror?' said Professor Umbridge sweetly. 'Were you?' said Professor McGonagall haughtily. 'Well, Potter,' she continued, as though there had been no interruption, if you are serious in this ambition, I would advise you to concentrate hard on bringing your Transfiguration and Potions up to scratch. I see Professor Flitwick has graded you between "Acceptable" and "Exceeds Expectations" for the last two years, so your Charmwork seems satisfactory. As for Defence Against the

McGonagall crisply. 'I would also advise -' Professor Umbridge gave another cough, a little more audible this time. Professor McGonagall closed her eyes for a moment, opened them again, and continued as though nothing had happened. 'I would also advise Transfiguration, because Aurors frequently need to Transfigure or Untransfigure in their work. And I ought to tell you now, Potter, that I do not accept students into my NEWT classes unless they have achieved "Exceeds Expectations" or higher at Ordinary Wizarding Level. I'd say you're averaging "Acceptable" at the moment, so you'll need to put in some good hard work before the exams to stand a chance of continuing. Then you ought to do Charms, always useful, and Potions. Yes, Potter, Potions,' she added, with the merest flicker of a smile. 'Poisons and antidotes are essential study for Aurors. And I must tell you that Professor Snape absolutely refuses to take students who get anything other than "Outstanding" in their OWLs, so - ' Professor Umbridge gave her most pronounced cough yet. 'May I offer you a cough drop, Dolores?' Professor McGonagall asked curtly, without looking at Professor Umbridge. 'Oh, no, thank you very much,' said Umbridge, with that simpering laugh Harry hated so much. 'I just wondered whether I could make the teensiest interruption, Minerva?' 'I daresay you'll find you can,' said Professor McGonagall through tightly gritted teeth. 'I was just wondering whether Mr Potter has quite the temperament for an Auror?' said Professor Umbridge sweetly. 'Were you?' said Professor McGonagall haughtily. 'Well, Potter,' she continued, as though there had been no interruption, if you are serious in this ambition, I would advise you to concentrate hard on bringing your Transfiguration and Potions up to scratch. I see Professor Flitwick has graded you between "Acceptable" and "Exceeds Expectations" for the last two years, so your Charmwork seems satisfactory. As for Defence Against the

Dark Arts, your marks have been generally high, Professor Lupin in particular thought you - are you quite sure you wouldn't like a cough drop, Dolores?' 'Oh, no need, thank you, Minerva,' simpered Professor Umbridge, who had just coughed her loudest yet. 'I was just concerned that you might not have Harry's most recent Defence Against the Dark Arts marks in front of you. I'm quite sure I slipped in a note.' 'What, this thing?' said Professor McGonagall in a tone of revulsion, as she pulled a sheet of pink parchment from between the leaves of Harry's folder. She glanced down it, her eyebrows slightly raised, then placed it back into the folder without comment. 'Yes, as I was saying, Potter, Professor Lupin thought you showed a pronounced aptitude for the subject, and obviously for an Auror - ' 'Did you not understand my note, Minerva?' asked Professor Umbndge in honeyed tones, quite forgetting to cough. 'Of course I understood it,' said Professor McGonagall, her teeth clenched so tightly the words came out a little muffled. 'Well, then, I am confused... I'm afraid I don't quite understand how you can give Mr Potter false hope that - ' 'False hope?' repeated Professor McGonagall, still refusing to look round at Professor Umbridge. 'He has achieved high marks in all his Defence Against the Dark Arts tests - ' 'I'm terribly sorry to have to contradict you, Minerva, but as you will see from my note, Harry has been achieving very poor results in his classes with me - ' 'I should have made my meaning plainer,' said Professor McGonagall, turning at last to look Umbridge directly in the eyes. 'He has achieved high marks in all Defence Against the Dark Arts tests set by a competent teacher.' Professor Umbridge's smile vanished as suddenly as a light bulb blowing. She sat back in her chair, turned a sheet on her clipboard and began scribbling very fast indeed, her bulging eyes rolling from side to side. Professor McGonagall turned back to Harry

Arts, your marks have been generally high, Professor Lupin in particular thought you - are you quite sure you wouldn't like a cough drop, Dolores?' 'Oh, no need, thank you, Minerva,' simpered Professor Umbridge, who had just coughed her loudest yet. 'I was just concerned that you might not have Harry's most recent Defence Against the Dark Arts marks in front of you. I'm quite sure I slipped in a note.' 'What, this thing?' said Professor McGonagall in a tone of revulsion, as she pulled a sheet of pink parchment from between the leaves of Harry's folder. She glanced down it, her eyebrows slightly raised, then placed it back into the folder without comment. 'Yes, as I was saying, Potter, Professor Lupin thought you showed a pronounced aptitude for the subject, and obviously for an Auror - ' 'Did you not understand my note, Minerva?' asked Professor Umbndge in honeyed tones, quite forgetting to cough. 'Of course I understood it,' said Professor McGonagall, her teeth clenched so tightly the words came out a little muffled. 'Well, then, I am confused... I'm afraid I don't quite understand how you can give Mr Potter false hope that - ' 'False hope?' repeated Professor McGonagall, still refusing to look round at Professor Umbridge. 'He has achieved high marks in all his Defence Against the Dark Arts tests - ' 'I'm terribly sorry to have to contradict you, Minerva, but as you will see from my note, Harry has been achieving very poor results in his classes with me - ' 'I should have made my meaning plainer,' said Professor McGonagall, turning at last to look Umbridge directly in the eyes. 'He has achieved high marks in all Defence Against the Dark Arts tests set by a competent teacher.' Professor Umbridge's smile vanished as suddenly as a light bulb blowing. She sat back in her chair, turned a sheet on her clipboard and began scribbling very fast indeed, her bulging eyes rolling from side to side. Professor McGonagall turned back to Harry

, her thin nostrils flared, her eyes burning. 'Any questions, Potter?' 'Yes,' said Harry. 'What sort of character and aptitude tests do the Ministry do on you, if you get enough NEWTs?' 'Well, you'll need to demonstrate the ability to react well to pressure and so forth,' said Professor McGonagall, 'perseverance and dedication, because Auror training takes a further three years, not to mention very high skills in practical Defence. It will mean a lot more study even after you've left school, so unless you're prepared to - ' 'I think you'll also find,' said Umbridge, her voice very cold now, 'that the Ministry looks into the records of those applying to be Aurors. Their criminal records.' '- unless you're prepared to take even more exams after Hogwarts, you should really look at another - ' 'Which means that this boy has as much chance of becoming an Auror as Dumbledore has of ever returning to this school.' 'A very good chance, then,' said Professor McGonagall. 'Potter has a criminal record,' said Umbridge loudly. 'Potter has been cleared of all charges,' said McGonagall, even more loudly. Professor Umbridge stood up. She was so short that this did not make a great deal of difference, but her fussy, simpering demeanour had given place to a hard fury that made her broad, flabby face look oddly sinister. 'Potter has no chance whatsoever of becoming an Auror!' Professor McGonagall got to her feet, too, and in her case this was a much more impressive move: she towered over Professor Umbridge. 'Potter,' she said in ringing tones, 'I will assist you to become an Auror if it is the last thing I do! If I have to coach you nightly, I will make sure you achieve the required results!' The Minister for Magic will never employ Harry Potter!' said Umbridge, her voice rising furiously. There may well be a new Minister for Magic by the time Potter is ready to join!' shouted Professor McGonagall. 'Aha! shrieked Professor Um

her thin nostrils flared, her eyes burning. 'Any questions, Potter?' 'Yes,' said Harry. 'What sort of character and aptitude tests do the Ministry do on you, if you get enough NEWTs?' 'Well, you'll need to demonstrate the ability to react well to pressure and so forth,' said Professor McGonagall, 'perseverance and dedication, because Auror training takes a further three years, not to mention very high skills in practical Defence. It will mean a lot more study even after you've left school, so unless you're prepared to - ' 'I think you'll also find,' said Umbridge, her voice very cold now, 'that the Ministry looks into the records of those applying to be Aurors. Their criminal records.' '- unless you're prepared to take even more exams after Hogwarts, you should really look at another - ' 'Which means that this boy has as much chance of becoming an Auror as Dumbledore has of ever returning to this school.' 'A very good chance, then,' said Professor McGonagall. 'Potter has a criminal record,' said Umbridge loudly. 'Potter has been cleared of all charges,' said McGonagall, even more loudly. Professor Umbridge stood up. She was so short that this did not make a great deal of difference, but her fussy, simpering demeanour had given place to a hard fury that made her broad, flabby face look oddly sinister. 'Potter has no chance whatsoever of becoming an Auror!' Professor McGonagall got to her feet, too, and in her case this was a much more impressive move: she towered over Professor Umbridge. 'Potter,' she said in ringing tones, 'I will assist you to become an Auror if it is the last thing I do! If I have to coach you nightly, I will make sure you achieve the required results!' The Minister for Magic will never employ Harry Potter!' said Umbridge, her voice rising furiously. There may well be a new Minister for Magic by the time Potter is ready to join!' shouted Professor McGonagall. 'Aha! shrieked Professor Um

bridge, pointing a stubby linger at McGonagall. 'Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Of course! That's what you want, isn't it, Minerva McGonagall? You want Cornelius Fudge replaced by Albus Dumbledore! You think you'll be where I am, don't you: Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and Headmistress to boot!' 'You are raving,' said Professor McGonagall, superbly disdainful. Totter, that concludes our careers consultation.' Harry swung his bag over his shoulder and hurried out of the room, not daring to look at Professor Umbridge. He could hear her and Professor McGonagall continuing to shout at each other all the way back along the corridor. Professor Umbridge was still breathing as though she had just run a race when she strode into their Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson that afternoon. 'Umbridge looks like she's in a really bad mood already...' Every now and then Umbridge shot glowering looks at Harry, who kept his head down, staring at Defensive Magical Theory, his eyes unfocused, thinking... He could just imagine Professor McGonagall's reaction if he was caught trespassing in Professor Umbridge's office mere hours after she had vouched for him... there was nothing to stop him simply going back to Gryffindor Tower and hoping that some time during the next summer holidays he would have a chance to ask Sirius about the scene he had witnessed in the Pensieve... nothing, except that the thought of taking this sensible course of action made him feel as though a lead weight had dropped into his stomach... and then there was the matter of Fred and George, whose diversion was already planned, not to mention the knife Sirius had given him, which was currently residing in his schoolbag along with his father's old Invisibility Cloak. But the fact remained that if he was caught... 'And if you get thrown out today it will all have been for nothing!' He could abandon the plan and simply learn to live with the memory of what his father had done on a summer's day more than twenty years ago

, pointing a stubby linger at McGonagall. 'Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Of course! That's what you want, isn't it, Minerva McGonagall? You want Cornelius Fudge replaced by Albus Dumbledore! You think you'll be where I am, don't you: Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and Headmistress to boot!' 'You are raving,' said Professor McGonagall, superbly disdainful. Totter, that concludes our careers consultation.' Harry swung his bag over his shoulder and hurried out of the room, not daring to look at Professor Umbridge. He could hear her and Professor McGonagall continuing to shout at each other all the way back along the corridor. Professor Umbridge was still breathing as though she had just run a race when she strode into their Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson that afternoon. 'Umbridge looks like she's in a really bad mood already...' Every now and then Umbridge shot glowering looks at Harry, who kept his head down, staring at Defensive Magical Theory, his eyes unfocused, thinking... He could just imagine Professor McGonagall's reaction if he was caught trespassing in Professor Umbridge's office mere hours after she had vouched for him... there was nothing to stop him simply going back to Gryffindor Tower and hoping that some time during the next summer holidays he would have a chance to ask Sirius about the scene he had witnessed in the Pensieve... nothing, except that the thought of taking this sensible course of action made him feel as though a lead weight had dropped into his stomach... and then there was the matter of Fred and George, whose diversion was already planned, not to mention the knife Sirius had given him, which was currently residing in his schoolbag along with his father's old Invisibility Cloak. But the fact remained that if he was caught... 'And if you get thrown out today it will all have been for nothing!' He could abandon the plan and simply learn to live with the memory of what his father had done on a summer's day more than twenty years ago

... And then he remembered Sirius in the fire upstairs in the Gryffindor common room... You're less like your father than I thought... the risk would've been what made it fun for James... But did he want to be like his father any more? He did not answer; he did not know what to do. He can make up his own mind.' Harry's heart beat very fast as he left the classroom. He was halfway along the corridor outside when he heard the unmistakeable sounds of a diversion going off in the distance. There were screams and yells reverberating from somewhere above them; people exiting the classrooms all around Harry were stopping in their tracks and looking up at the ceiling fearfully - ' Umbridge came pelting out of her classroom as fast as her short legs would carry her. Pulling out her wand, she hurried off in the opposite direction: it was now or never. But he had made up his mind; hitching his bag more securely on to his shoulder, he set off at a run, weaving in and out of students now hurrying in the opposite direction to see what all the fuss was about in the east wing. Harry reached the corridor to Umbridge's office and found it deserted. Dashing behind a large suit of armour whose helmet creaked around to watch him, he pulled open his bag, seized Sirius's knife and donned the Invisibility Cloak. He then crept slowly and carefully back out from behind the suit of armour and along the corridor until he reached Umbridge's door. He inserted the blade of the magical knife into the crack around it and moved it gently up and down, then withdrew it. There was a tiny click, and the door swung open. He ducked inside the office, closed the door quickly behind him and looked around. Nothing was moving except the horrible kittens that were still frolicking on the wall plates above the confiscated broomsticks. Harry pulled off his Cloak and, striding over to the fireplace, found what he was looking for within seconds: a small box containing glittering Floo powder. He crouched

.. And then he remembered Sirius in the fire upstairs in the Gryffindor common room... You're less like your father than I thought... the risk would've been what made it fun for James... But did he want to be like his father any more? He did not answer; he did not know what to do. He can make up his own mind.' Harry's heart beat very fast as he left the classroom. He was halfway along the corridor outside when he heard the unmistakeable sounds of a diversion going off in the distance. There were screams and yells reverberating from somewhere above them; people exiting the classrooms all around Harry were stopping in their tracks and looking up at the ceiling fearfully - ' Umbridge came pelting out of her classroom as fast as her short legs would carry her. Pulling out her wand, she hurried off in the opposite direction: it was now or never. But he had made up his mind; hitching his bag more securely on to his shoulder, he set off at a run, weaving in and out of students now hurrying in the opposite direction to see what all the fuss was about in the east wing. Harry reached the corridor to Umbridge's office and found it deserted. Dashing behind a large suit of armour whose helmet creaked around to watch him, he pulled open his bag, seized Sirius's knife and donned the Invisibility Cloak. He then crept slowly and carefully back out from behind the suit of armour and along the corridor until he reached Umbridge's door. He inserted the blade of the magical knife into the crack around it and moved it gently up and down, then withdrew it. There was a tiny click, and the door swung open. He ducked inside the office, closed the door quickly behind him and looked around. Nothing was moving except the horrible kittens that were still frolicking on the wall plates above the confiscated broomsticks. Harry pulled off his Cloak and, striding over to the fireplace, found what he was looking for within seconds: a small box containing glittering Floo powder. He crouched

down in front of the empty grate, his hands shaking. He had never done this before, though he thought he knew how it must work. Sticking his head into the fireplace, he took a large pinch of powder and dropped it on to the logs stacked neatly beneath him. They exploded at once into emerald green flames. 'Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!' Harry said loudly and clearly It was one of the most curious sensations he had ever experienced. He had travelled by Floo powder before, of course, but then it had been his entire body that had spun around and around ir. the flames through the network of wizarding fireplaces that stretchec over the country. This time, his knees remained firm upon the cole floor of Umbridge's office, and only his head hurtled through the emerald fire... And then, as abruptly as it had begun, the spinning stopped. Feeling rather sick and as though he were wearing an exceptionally hot muffler around his head, Harry opened his eyes to find that he was looking up out of the kitchen fireplace at the long, wooden table, where a man sat poring over a piece of parchment. 'Sirius?' The man jumped and looked around. It was not Sirius, bu. Lupin. 'Harry!' he said, looking thoroughly shocked. 'What are you - 'what's happened, is everything all right?' 'Yeah,' said Harry. 'I just wondered - I mean, I just fancied a - 'a chat with Sirius.' 'I'll call him,' said Lupin, getting to his feet, still looking perplexed, 'he went upstairs to look for Kreacher, he seems to be hiding in the attic again...' And Harry saw Lupin hurry out of the kitchen. Now he was left with nothing to look at but the chair and table legs. He wondered why Sirius had never mentioned how very uncomfortable it was to speak out of the fire; his knees were already objecting painfully to their prolonged contact with Umbridge's hard stone floor. Lupin returned with Sirius at his heels moments later. 'What

in front of the empty grate, his hands shaking. He had never done this before, though he thought he knew how it must work. Sticking his head into the fireplace, he took a large pinch of powder and dropped it on to the logs stacked neatly beneath him. They exploded at once into emerald green flames. 'Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!' Harry said loudly and clearly It was one of the most curious sensations he had ever experienced. He had travelled by Floo powder before, of course, but then it had been his entire body that had spun around and around ir. the flames through the network of wizarding fireplaces that stretchec over the country. This time, his knees remained firm upon the cole floor of Umbridge's office, and only his head hurtled through the emerald fire... And then, as abruptly as it had begun, the spinning stopped. Feeling rather sick and as though he were wearing an exceptionally hot muffler around his head, Harry opened his eyes to find that he was looking up out of the kitchen fireplace at the long, wooden table, where a man sat poring over a piece of parchment. 'Sirius?' The man jumped and looked around. It was not Sirius, bu. Lupin. 'Harry!' he said, looking thoroughly shocked. 'What are you - 'what's happened, is everything all right?' 'Yeah,' said Harry. 'I just wondered - I mean, I just fancied a - 'a chat with Sirius.' 'I'll call him,' said Lupin, getting to his feet, still looking perplexed, 'he went upstairs to look for Kreacher, he seems to be hiding in the attic again...' And Harry saw Lupin hurry out of the kitchen. Now he was left with nothing to look at but the chair and table legs. He wondered why Sirius had never mentioned how very uncomfortable it was to speak out of the fire; his knees were already objecting painfully to their prolonged contact with Umbridge's hard stone floor. Lupin returned with Sirius at his heels moments later. 'What

is it?' said Sirius urgently, sweeping his long dark hair out of his eyes and dropping to the ground in front of the fire, so that he and Harry were on a level. Lupin knelt down too, looking very concerned. 'Are you all right? Do you need help?' 'No,' said Harry, 'it's nothing like that... I just wanted to talk... about my dad.' They exchanged a look of great surprise, but Harry did not have time to feel awkward or embarrassed; his knees were becoming sorer by the second and he guessed five minutes had already passed from the start of the diversion; George had only guaranteed him twenty. He therefore plunged immediately into the story of what he had seen in the Pensieve. When he had finished, neither Sirius nor Lupin spoke for a moment. Then Lupin said quietly, 'I wouldn't like you to judge your father on what you saw there, Harry. He was only fifteen - ' 'I'm fifteen' said Harry heatedly. 'Look, Harry' said Sirius placatingly, 'James and Snape hated each other from the moment they set eyes on each other, it was just one of those things, you can understand that, can't you? I think James was everything Snape wanted to be - he was popular, he was good at Quidditch - good at pretty much everything. And Snape was just this little oddball who was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts, and James - whatever else he may have appeared to you, Harry - always hated the Dark Arts.' 'Yeah,' said Harry, 'but he just attacked Snape for no good reason, just because - well, just because you said you were bored,' he finished, with a slightly apologetic note in his voice. 'I'm not proud of it,' said Sirius quickly. Lupin looked sideways at Sirius, then said, 'Look, Harry, what you've got to understand is that your father and Sirius were the best in the school at whatever they did - everyone thought they were the height of cool - if they sometimes got a bit carried away - ' 'If we were sometimes arrogant little berks,

it?' said Sirius urgently, sweeping his long dark hair out of his eyes and dropping to the ground in front of the fire, so that he and Harry were on a level. Lupin knelt down too, looking very concerned. 'Are you all right? Do you need help?' 'No,' said Harry, 'it's nothing like that... I just wanted to talk... about my dad.' They exchanged a look of great surprise, but Harry did not have time to feel awkward or embarrassed; his knees were becoming sorer by the second and he guessed five minutes had already passed from the start of the diversion; George had only guaranteed him twenty. He therefore plunged immediately into the story of what he had seen in the Pensieve. When he had finished, neither Sirius nor Lupin spoke for a moment. Then Lupin said quietly, 'I wouldn't like you to judge your father on what you saw there, Harry. He was only fifteen - ' 'I'm fifteen' said Harry heatedly. 'Look, Harry' said Sirius placatingly, 'James and Snape hated each other from the moment they set eyes on each other, it was just one of those things, you can understand that, can't you? I think James was everything Snape wanted to be - he was popular, he was good at Quidditch - good at pretty much everything. And Snape was just this little oddball who was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts, and James - whatever else he may have appeared to you, Harry - always hated the Dark Arts.' 'Yeah,' said Harry, 'but he just attacked Snape for no good reason, just because - well, just because you said you were bored,' he finished, with a slightly apologetic note in his voice. 'I'm not proud of it,' said Sirius quickly. Lupin looked sideways at Sirius, then said, 'Look, Harry, what you've got to understand is that your father and Sirius were the best in the school at whatever they did - everyone thought they were the height of cool - if they sometimes got a bit carried away - ' 'If we were sometimes arrogant little berks,

you mean,' said Sirius. Lupin smiled. 'He kept messing up his hair,' said Harry in a pained voice. Sirius and Lupin laughed. 'I'd forgotten he used to do that,' said Sirius affectionately. 'Was he playing with the Snitch?' said Lupin eagerly. 'Yeah,' said Harry, watching uncomprehendingly as Sirius and Lupin beamed reminiscently. 'Well... I thought he was a bit of an idiot.' 'Of course he was a bit of an idiot!' said Sirius bracingly, 'we were all idiots! Well - not Moony so much,' he said fairly, looking at Lupin. But Lupin shook his head. 'Did I ever tell you to lay off Snape?' he said. 'Did I ever have the guts to tell you I thought you were out of order?' 'Yeah, well,' said Sirius, 'you made us feel ashamed of ourselves sometimes... that was something...' 'And,' said Harry doggedly, determined to say everything that was on his mind now he was here, 'he kept looking over at the girls by the lake, hoping they were watching him!' 'Oh, well, he always made a fool of himself whenever Lily was around,' said Sirius, shrugging, 'he couldn't stop himself showing off whenever he got near her.' 'How come she married him?' Harry asked miserably. 'She hated him!' 'Nah, she didn't,' said Sirius. 'She started going out with him in seventh year,' said Lupin. 'Once James had deflated his head a bit,' said Sirius. 'And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it,' said Lupin. 'Even Snape?' said Harry. 'Well,' said Lupin slowly, 'Snape was a special case. I mean, he never lost an opportunity to curse James so you couldn't really expect James to take that lying down, could you?' 'And my mum was OK with that?' 'She didn't know too

mean,' said Sirius. Lupin smiled. 'He kept messing up his hair,' said Harry in a pained voice. Sirius and Lupin laughed. 'I'd forgotten he used to do that,' said Sirius affectionately. 'Was he playing with the Snitch?' said Lupin eagerly. 'Yeah,' said Harry, watching uncomprehendingly as Sirius and Lupin beamed reminiscently. 'Well... I thought he was a bit of an idiot.' 'Of course he was a bit of an idiot!' said Sirius bracingly, 'we were all idiots! Well - not Moony so much,' he said fairly, looking at Lupin. But Lupin shook his head. 'Did I ever tell you to lay off Snape?' he said. 'Did I ever have the guts to tell you I thought you were out of order?' 'Yeah, well,' said Sirius, 'you made us feel ashamed of ourselves sometimes... that was something...' 'And,' said Harry doggedly, determined to say everything that was on his mind now he was here, 'he kept looking over at the girls by the lake, hoping they were watching him!' 'Oh, well, he always made a fool of himself whenever Lily was around,' said Sirius, shrugging, 'he couldn't stop himself showing off whenever he got near her.' 'How come she married him?' Harry asked miserably. 'She hated him!' 'Nah, she didn't,' said Sirius. 'She started going out with him in seventh year,' said Lupin. 'Once James had deflated his head a bit,' said Sirius. 'And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it,' said Lupin. 'Even Snape?' said Harry. 'Well,' said Lupin slowly, 'Snape was a special case. I mean, he never lost an opportunity to curse James so you couldn't really expect James to take that lying down, could you?' 'And my mum was OK with that?' 'She didn't know too

much about it, to tell you the truth,' said Sirius. 'I mean, James didn't take Snape on dates with her and jinx him in front of her, did he?' Sirius frowned at Harry, who was still looking unconvinced. 'Look,' he said, 'your father was the best friend I ever had and he was a good person. A lot of people are idiots at the age of fifteen. He grew out of it.' 'Yeah, OK,' said Harry heavily. 'I just never thought I'd feel sorry for Snape.' 'Now you mention it,' said Lupin, a faint crease between his eyebrows, 'how did Snape react when he found you'd seen all this?' 'He told me he'd never teach me Occlumency again,' said Harry indifferently, 'like that's a big disappoint- 'He WHAT?' shouted Sirius, causing Harry to jump and inhale a mouthful of ashes. 'Are you serious, Harry?' said Lupin quickly. 'He's stopped giving you lessons?' 'Yeah,' said Harry, surprised at what he considered a great over-reaction. 'But it's OK, I don't care, it's a bit of a relief to tell you the - ' 'I'm coming up there to have a word with Snape!' said Sirius forcefully, and he actually made to stand up, but Lupin wrenched him back down again. 'If anyone's going to tell Snape it will be me!' he said firmly. 'But Harry, first of all, you're to go back to Snape and tell him that on no account is he to stop giving you lessons - when Dumbledore hears - ' 'I can't tell him that, he'd kill me!' said Harry, outraged. 'You didn't see him when we got out of the Pensieve.' 'Harry there is nothing so important as you learning Occlumency!' said Lupin sternly. 'Do you understand me? Nothing!' 'OK, OK,' said Harry, thoroughly discomposed, not to mention anno

about it, to tell you the truth,' said Sirius. 'I mean, James didn't take Snape on dates with her and jinx him in front of her, did he?' Sirius frowned at Harry, who was still looking unconvinced. 'Look,' he said, 'your father was the best friend I ever had and he was a good person. A lot of people are idiots at the age of fifteen. He grew out of it.' 'Yeah, OK,' said Harry heavily. 'I just never thought I'd feel sorry for Snape.' 'Now you mention it,' said Lupin, a faint crease between his eyebrows, 'how did Snape react when he found you'd seen all this?' 'He told me he'd never teach me Occlumency again,' said Harry indifferently, 'like that's a big disappoint- 'He WHAT?' shouted Sirius, causing Harry to jump and inhale a mouthful of ashes. 'Are you serious, Harry?' said Lupin quickly. 'He's stopped giving you lessons?' 'Yeah,' said Harry, surprised at what he considered a great over-reaction. 'But it's OK, I don't care, it's a bit of a relief to tell you the - ' 'I'm coming up there to have a word with Snape!' said Sirius forcefully, and he actually made to stand up, but Lupin wrenched him back down again. 'If anyone's going to tell Snape it will be me!' he said firmly. 'But Harry, first of all, you're to go back to Snape and tell him that on no account is he to stop giving you lessons - when Dumbledore hears - ' 'I can't tell him that, he'd kill me!' said Harry, outraged. 'You didn't see him when we got out of the Pensieve.' 'Harry there is nothing so important as you learning Occlumency!' said Lupin sternly. 'Do you understand me? Nothing!' 'OK, OK,' said Harry, thoroughly discomposed, not to mention anno

yed. 'I'll... I'll try and say something to him... but it won't be - ' He fell silent. He could hear distant footsteps. 'Is that Kreacher coming downstairs?' 'No,' said Sirius, glancing behind him. 'It must be somebody your end.' Harry's heart skipped several beats. 'I'd better go!' he said hastily and pulled his head backwards out of the Grimmauld Place fire. For a moment his head seemed to be revolving on his shoulders, then he found himself kneeling in front of Umbridge's fire with it firmly back on and watching the emerald flames flicker and die. 'Quickly, quickly!' he heard a wheezy voice mutter right outside the office door. 'Ah, she's left it open - ' Harry dived for the Invisibility Cloak and had just managed to pull it back over himself when Filch burst into the office. He looked absolutely delighted about something and was talking to himself feverishly as he crossed the room, pulled open a drawer in Umbridge's desk and began rifling through the papers inside it. 'Approval for Whipping... Approval for Whipping... I can do it at last... they've had it coming to them for years...' He pulled out a piece of parchment, kissed it, then shuffled rapidly back out of the door, clutching it to his chest. Harry leapt to his feet and, making sure he had his bag and that the Invisibility Cloak was completely covering him, he wrenched open the door and hurried out of the office after Filch, who was hobbling along faster than Harry had ever seen him go. One landing down from Umbridge's office, Harry thought it was safe to become visible again. He pulled off the Cloak, shoved it in his bag and hurried onwards. There was a great deal of shouting and movement coming from the Entrance Hall. He ran down the marble staircase and found what looked like most of the school assembled there. It was just like the night when Trelawney had been sacked. Students were standing all around the walls in a

. 'I'll... I'll try and say something to him... but it won't be - ' He fell silent. He could hear distant footsteps. 'Is that Kreacher coming downstairs?' 'No,' said Sirius, glancing behind him. 'It must be somebody your end.' Harry's heart skipped several beats. 'I'd better go!' he said hastily and pulled his head backwards out of the Grimmauld Place fire. For a moment his head seemed to be revolving on his shoulders, then he found himself kneeling in front of Umbridge's fire with it firmly back on and watching the emerald flames flicker and die. 'Quickly, quickly!' he heard a wheezy voice mutter right outside the office door. 'Ah, she's left it open - ' Harry dived for the Invisibility Cloak and had just managed to pull it back over himself when Filch burst into the office. He looked absolutely delighted about something and was talking to himself feverishly as he crossed the room, pulled open a drawer in Umbridge's desk and began rifling through the papers inside it. 'Approval for Whipping... Approval for Whipping... I can do it at last... they've had it coming to them for years...' He pulled out a piece of parchment, kissed it, then shuffled rapidly back out of the door, clutching it to his chest. Harry leapt to his feet and, making sure he had his bag and that the Invisibility Cloak was completely covering him, he wrenched open the door and hurried out of the office after Filch, who was hobbling along faster than Harry had ever seen him go. One landing down from Umbridge's office, Harry thought it was safe to become visible again. He pulled off the Cloak, shoved it in his bag and hurried onwards. There was a great deal of shouting and movement coming from the Entrance Hall. He ran down the marble staircase and found what looked like most of the school assembled there. It was just like the night when Trelawney had been sacked. Students were standing all around the walls in a

great ring (some of them, Harry noticed, covered in a substance that looked very like Stinksap); teachers and ghosts were also in the crowd. Prominent among the onlookers were members of the Inquisitorial Squad, who were all looking exceptionally pleased with themselves, and Peeves, who was bobbing overhead, gazed down at Fred and George who stood in the middle of the floor with the unmistakeable look of two people who had just been cornered. 'So!' said Umbridge triumphantly. Harry realised she was standing just a few stairs in front of him, once more looking down upon her prey. 'So - you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?' 'Pretty amusing, yeah,' said Fred, looking up at her without the slightest sign of fear. Filch elbowed his way closer to Umbridge, almost crying with happiness. 'I've got the form, Headmistress,' he said hoarsely, waving the piece of parchment Harry had just seen him take from her desk. 'I've got the form and I've got the whips waiting... oh, let me do it now...' 'Very good, Argus,' she said. 'You two,' she went on, gazing down at Fred and George, 'are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school.' 'You know what?' said Fred. 'I don't think we are.' He turned to his twin. 'George,' said Fred, 'I think we've outgrown full-time education.' 'Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself,' said George lightly. Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?' asked Fred. 'Definitely,' said George. And before Umbridge could say a word, they raised their wands and said together: 'Accio brooms!' Harry heard a loud crash somewhere in the distance. Looking to his left, he ducked just in time. Fred and George's broomsticks, one still trailing the heavy chain and iron peg with which Umbridge had fastened them to the wall, were hurtling along the cor

ring (some of them, Harry noticed, covered in a substance that looked very like Stinksap); teachers and ghosts were also in the crowd. Prominent among the onlookers were members of the Inquisitorial Squad, who were all looking exceptionally pleased with themselves, and Peeves, who was bobbing overhead, gazed down at Fred and George who stood in the middle of the floor with the unmistakeable look of two people who had just been cornered. 'So!' said Umbridge triumphantly. Harry realised she was standing just a few stairs in front of him, once more looking down upon her prey. 'So - you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?' 'Pretty amusing, yeah,' said Fred, looking up at her without the slightest sign of fear. Filch elbowed his way closer to Umbridge, almost crying with happiness. 'I've got the form, Headmistress,' he said hoarsely, waving the piece of parchment Harry had just seen him take from her desk. 'I've got the form and I've got the whips waiting... oh, let me do it now...' 'Very good, Argus,' she said. 'You two,' she went on, gazing down at Fred and George, 'are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school.' 'You know what?' said Fred. 'I don't think we are.' He turned to his twin. 'George,' said Fred, 'I think we've outgrown full-time education.' 'Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself,' said George lightly. Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?' asked Fred. 'Definitely,' said George. And before Umbridge could say a word, they raised their wands and said together: 'Accio brooms!' Harry heard a loud crash somewhere in the distance. Looking to his left, he ducked just in time. Fred and George's broomsticks, one still trailing the heavy chain and iron peg with which Umbridge had fastened them to the wall, were hurtling along the cor

ridor towards their owners; they turned left, streaked down the stairs and stopped sharply in front of the twins, the chain clattering loudly on the flagged stone floor. 'We won't be seeing you,' Fred told Professor Umbridge, swinging his leg over his broomstick. 'Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch,' said George, mounting his own. Fred looked around at the assembled students, at the silent, watchful crowd. 'It anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley - Weasley' Wizarding Wheezes,' he said in a loud voice. 'Our new premises!' 'Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat,' added George, pointing at Professor Umbridge. 'STOP THEM!' shrieked Umbridge, but it was too late. As the Inquisitorial Squad closed in, Fred and George kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet into the air, the iron peg swinging dangerously below. Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd. 'Give her hell from us, Peeves.' And Peeves, who Harry had never seen take an order from a student before, swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute as Fred and George wheeled about to tumultuous applause from the students below and sped out of the open front doors into the glorious sunset. - CHAPTER THIRTY - Grawp The story of Fred and George's flight to freedom was retold so often over the next few days that Harry could tell it would soon become the stuff of Hogwarts legend: within a week, even those who had been eye-witnesses were half-convinced they had seen the twins dive-bomb Umbridge on their brooms and pelt her with Dungbombs before zooming out of the doors. In the immediate aftermath of their departure there was a great wave of talk about copying them. Harry frequently heard students saying things like, 'Honestly, some days I just feel like

or towards their owners; they turned left, streaked down the stairs and stopped sharply in front of the twins, the chain clattering loudly on the flagged stone floor. 'We won't be seeing you,' Fred told Professor Umbridge, swinging his leg over his broomstick. 'Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch,' said George, mounting his own. Fred looked around at the assembled students, at the silent, watchful crowd. 'It anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley - Weasley' Wizarding Wheezes,' he said in a loud voice. 'Our new premises!' 'Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat,' added George, pointing at Professor Umbridge. 'STOP THEM!' shrieked Umbridge, but it was too late. As the Inquisitorial Squad closed in, Fred and George kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet into the air, the iron peg swinging dangerously below. Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd. 'Give her hell from us, Peeves.' And Peeves, who Harry had never seen take an order from a student before, swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute as Fred and George wheeled about to tumultuous applause from the students below and sped out of the open front doors into the glorious sunset. - CHAPTER THIRTY - Grawp The story of Fred and George's flight to freedom was retold so often over the next few days that Harry could tell it would soon become the stuff of Hogwarts legend: within a week, even those who had been eye-witnesses were half-convinced they had seen the twins dive-bomb Umbridge on their brooms and pelt her with Dungbombs before zooming out of the doors. In the immediate aftermath of their departure there was a great wave of talk about copying them. Harry frequently heard students saying things like, 'Honestly, some days I just feel like

jumping on my broom and leaving this place,' or else, 'One more lesson like that and I might just do a Weasley.' Fred and George had made sure nobody was likely to forget them too soon. For one thing, they had not left instructions on how to remove the swamp that now filled the corridor on the fifth floor of the east wing. Umbridge and Filch had been observed trying different means of removing it but without success. Eventually, the area was roped off and Filch, gnashing his teeth furiously, was given the task of punting students across it to their classrooms. Harry was certain that teachers like McGonagall or Flitwick could have removed the swamp in an instant but, just as in the case of Fred and George's Wildfire Whiz-bangs, they seemed to prefer to watch Umbridge struggle. Then there were the two large broom-shaped holes in Umbridge's office door, through which Fred and George's Cleansweeps had smashed to rejoin their masters. Filch fitted a new door and removed Harry's Firebolt to the dungeons where, it was rumoured, Umbridge had set an armed security troll to guard it. However, her troubles were far from over. Inspired by Fred and George's example, a great number of students were now vying for the newly vacant positions of Troublemakers-in-Chief. In spite of the new door, somebody managed to slip a hairy-snouted Niffler into Umbridge's office, which promptly tore the place apart in its search for shiny objects, leapt on Umbridge when she entered and tried to gnaw the rings off her stubby fingers. Dungbombs and Stink Pellets were dropped so frequently in the corridors that it became the new fashion for students to perform Bubble-Head Charms on themselves before leaving lessons, which ensured them a supply of fresh air, even though it gave them all the peculiar appearance of wearing upside-down goldfish bowls on their heads. Filch prowled the corridors with a horsewhip ready in his hands, desperate to catch miscreants, but the problem was that there were now so many of them he never knew which way to turn. The Inquisitor

ing on my broom and leaving this place,' or else, 'One more lesson like that and I might just do a Weasley.' Fred and George had made sure nobody was likely to forget them too soon. For one thing, they had not left instructions on how to remove the swamp that now filled the corridor on the fifth floor of the east wing. Umbridge and Filch had been observed trying different means of removing it but without success. Eventually, the area was roped off and Filch, gnashing his teeth furiously, was given the task of punting students across it to their classrooms. Harry was certain that teachers like McGonagall or Flitwick could have removed the swamp in an instant but, just as in the case of Fred and George's Wildfire Whiz-bangs, they seemed to prefer to watch Umbridge struggle. Then there were the two large broom-shaped holes in Umbridge's office door, through which Fred and George's Cleansweeps had smashed to rejoin their masters. Filch fitted a new door and removed Harry's Firebolt to the dungeons where, it was rumoured, Umbridge had set an armed security troll to guard it. However, her troubles were far from over. Inspired by Fred and George's example, a great number of students were now vying for the newly vacant positions of Troublemakers-in-Chief. In spite of the new door, somebody managed to slip a hairy-snouted Niffler into Umbridge's office, which promptly tore the place apart in its search for shiny objects, leapt on Umbridge when she entered and tried to gnaw the rings off her stubby fingers. Dungbombs and Stink Pellets were dropped so frequently in the corridors that it became the new fashion for students to perform Bubble-Head Charms on themselves before leaving lessons, which ensured them a supply of fresh air, even though it gave them all the peculiar appearance of wearing upside-down goldfish bowls on their heads. Filch prowled the corridors with a horsewhip ready in his hands, desperate to catch miscreants, but the problem was that there were now so many of them he never knew which way to turn. The Inquisitor

ial Squad was attempting to help him, but odd things kept happening to its members. Meanwhile, it became clear just how many Skiving Snackboxes Fred and George had managed to sell before leaving Hogwarts. Umbridge only had to enter her classroom for the students assembled there to faint, vomit, develop dangerous fevers or else spout blood from both nostrils. Shrieking with rage and frustration, she attempted to trace the mysterious symptoms to their source, but the students told her stubbornly they were suffering from 'Umbridge - 'itis'. Alter putting four successive classes in detention and failing to discover their secret, she was forced to give up and allow the bleeding, swooning, sweating and vomiting students to leave her classes in droves. But not even the users of the Snackboxes could compete with that master of chaos, Peeves, who seemed to have taken Fred's parting words deeply to heart. Cackling madly, he soared through the school, upending tables, bursting out of blackboards, toppling statues and vases; twice he shut Mrs Norris inside a suit of armour, from which she was rescued, yowling loudly, by the furious caretaker. Peeves smashed lanterns and snuffed out candles, juggled burning torches over the heads of screaming students, caused neatly stacked piles of parchment to topple into fires or out of windows; flooded the second floor when he pulled off all the taps in the bathrooms, dropped a bag of tarantulas in the middle of the Great Hall during breakfast and, whenever he fancied a break, spent hours at a time floating along after Umbridge and blowing loud raspberries every time she spoke. None of the staff but Filch seemed to be stirring themselves to help her. Indeed, a week after Fred and Georges departure Harry witnessed Professor McGonagall walking right past Peeves, who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier, and could have sworn he heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth, 'It unscrews the other way.' To cap matters, Montague had still not recovered from his sojourn in the toilet;

Squad was attempting to help him, but odd things kept happening to its members. Meanwhile, it became clear just how many Skiving Snackboxes Fred and George had managed to sell before leaving Hogwarts. Umbridge only had to enter her classroom for the students assembled there to faint, vomit, develop dangerous fevers or else spout blood from both nostrils. Shrieking with rage and frustration, she attempted to trace the mysterious symptoms to their source, but the students told her stubbornly they were suffering from 'Umbridge - 'itis'. Alter putting four successive classes in detention and failing to discover their secret, she was forced to give up and allow the bleeding, swooning, sweating and vomiting students to leave her classes in droves. But not even the users of the Snackboxes could compete with that master of chaos, Peeves, who seemed to have taken Fred's parting words deeply to heart. Cackling madly, he soared through the school, upending tables, bursting out of blackboards, toppling statues and vases; twice he shut Mrs Norris inside a suit of armour, from which she was rescued, yowling loudly, by the furious caretaker. Peeves smashed lanterns and snuffed out candles, juggled burning torches over the heads of screaming students, caused neatly stacked piles of parchment to topple into fires or out of windows; flooded the second floor when he pulled off all the taps in the bathrooms, dropped a bag of tarantulas in the middle of the Great Hall during breakfast and, whenever he fancied a break, spent hours at a time floating along after Umbridge and blowing loud raspberries every time she spoke. None of the staff but Filch seemed to be stirring themselves to help her. Indeed, a week after Fred and Georges departure Harry witnessed Professor McGonagall walking right past Peeves, who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier, and could have sworn he heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth, 'It unscrews the other way.' To cap matters, Montague had still not recovered from his sojourn in the toilet;

he remained confused and disorientated and his parents were to be observed one Tuesday morning striding up the front drive, looking extremely angry. 'About what happened to him? In case it helps Madam Pomfrey cure him?' 'Course not, he'll recover,' said Ron indifferently. 'Anyway, more trouble for Umbridge, isn't it?' said Harry in a satisfied voice. He and Ron both tapped the teacups they were supposed to be charming with their wands. Harry's spouted four very short legs that could not reach the desk and wriggled pointlessly in midair. Ron's grew four very thin spindly legs that hoisted the cup off the desk with great difficulty, trembled for a few seconds, then folded, causing the cup to crack into two. That's all very well, but what if Montague's permanently injured?' 'Who cares?' said Ron irritably, while his teacup stood up drunkenly again, trembling violently at the knees. 'Montague shouldn't have tried to take all those points from Gryffindor, should he? 'Why should I be worried about you?' 'When Mum's next letter finally gets through Umbridge's screening process,' said Ron bitterly, now holding his cup up while its frail legs tried feebly to support its weight, 'I'm going to be in deep trouble. I wouldn't be surprised if she's sent another Howler.' 'But - ' 'It'll be my fault Fred and George left, you wait,' said Ron darkly. 'She'll say I should've stopped them leaving, I should've grabbed the ends of their brooms and hung on or something... yeah, it'll be all my fault.' 'Well, if she dot's say that it'll be very unfair, you couldn't have done anything! But I'm sure she won't, I mean, if it's really true they've got premises in Diagon Alley, they must have been planning this for ages.' 'Yeah, but that's another thing, how did they get premises?' said Ron, hitting his teacup so

remained confused and disorientated and his parents were to be observed one Tuesday morning striding up the front drive, looking extremely angry. 'About what happened to him? In case it helps Madam Pomfrey cure him?' 'Course not, he'll recover,' said Ron indifferently. 'Anyway, more trouble for Umbridge, isn't it?' said Harry in a satisfied voice. He and Ron both tapped the teacups they were supposed to be charming with their wands. Harry's spouted four very short legs that could not reach the desk and wriggled pointlessly in midair. Ron's grew four very thin spindly legs that hoisted the cup off the desk with great difficulty, trembled for a few seconds, then folded, causing the cup to crack into two. That's all very well, but what if Montague's permanently injured?' 'Who cares?' said Ron irritably, while his teacup stood up drunkenly again, trembling violently at the knees. 'Montague shouldn't have tried to take all those points from Gryffindor, should he? 'Why should I be worried about you?' 'When Mum's next letter finally gets through Umbridge's screening process,' said Ron bitterly, now holding his cup up while its frail legs tried feebly to support its weight, 'I'm going to be in deep trouble. I wouldn't be surprised if she's sent another Howler.' 'But - ' 'It'll be my fault Fred and George left, you wait,' said Ron darkly. 'She'll say I should've stopped them leaving, I should've grabbed the ends of their brooms and hung on or something... yeah, it'll be all my fault.' 'Well, if she dot's say that it'll be very unfair, you couldn't have done anything! But I'm sure she won't, I mean, if it's really true they've got premises in Diagon Alley, they must have been planning this for ages.' 'Yeah, but that's another thing, how did they get premises?' said Ron, hitting his teacup so

hard with his wand that its legs collapsed again and it lay twitching before him. 'It's a bit dodgy, isn't it? They'll need loads of Galleons to afford the rent on a place in Diagon Alley. 'How do you know?' said Ron together. 'Because -'Harry hesitated, but the moment to confess finally seemed to have come. There was no good to be gained in keeping silent if it meant anyone suspected that Fred and George were criminals. 'Because they got the gold from me. 'Oh, Harry, you didn't!' she said. 'Yes, I did,' said Harry mutinously. 'And I don't regret it, either. I didn't need the gold and they'll be great at running a joke shop.' 'But this is excellent!' said Ron, looking thrilled. 'It's all your fault, Harry - Mum can't blame me at all! Sure enough, once they had left the castle for break and were standing around in the weak May sunshine, she fixed Harry with a beady eye and opened her mouth with a determined air. Harry interrupted her before she had even started. 'It's no good nagging me, it's done,' he said firmly. 'Fred and George have got the gold - spent a good bit of it, too, by the sounds of it - and I can't get it back from them and I don't want to. 'No, I wasn't!' she said angrily. 'As a matter of fact, I was going to ask Harry when he's going to go back to Snape and ask for more Occlumency lessons!' Harry's heart sank. Once they had exhausted the subject of Fred and George's dramatic departure, which admittedly had taken many hours, Ron had wanted to hear news of Sirius. As Harry had not confided in them the reason he had wanted to talk to Sirius in the first place, it had been hard to think of what to tell them; he had ended up saying, truthfully, that Sirius wanted Harry to resume Occlumency lessons. Ron had the grace to look ashamed of himself. 'You were only muttering a bit,' he mumbled

with his wand that its legs collapsed again and it lay twitching before him. 'It's a bit dodgy, isn't it? They'll need loads of Galleons to afford the rent on a place in Diagon Alley. 'How do you know?' said Ron together. 'Because -'Harry hesitated, but the moment to confess finally seemed to have come. There was no good to be gained in keeping silent if it meant anyone suspected that Fred and George were criminals. 'Because they got the gold from me. 'Oh, Harry, you didn't!' she said. 'Yes, I did,' said Harry mutinously. 'And I don't regret it, either. I didn't need the gold and they'll be great at running a joke shop.' 'But this is excellent!' said Ron, looking thrilled. 'It's all your fault, Harry - Mum can't blame me at all! Sure enough, once they had left the castle for break and were standing around in the weak May sunshine, she fixed Harry with a beady eye and opened her mouth with a determined air. Harry interrupted her before she had even started. 'It's no good nagging me, it's done,' he said firmly. 'Fred and George have got the gold - spent a good bit of it, too, by the sounds of it - and I can't get it back from them and I don't want to. 'No, I wasn't!' she said angrily. 'As a matter of fact, I was going to ask Harry when he's going to go back to Snape and ask for more Occlumency lessons!' Harry's heart sank. Once they had exhausted the subject of Fred and George's dramatic departure, which admittedly had taken many hours, Ron had wanted to hear news of Sirius. As Harry had not confided in them the reason he had wanted to talk to Sirius in the first place, it had been hard to think of what to tell them; he had ended up saying, truthfully, that Sirius wanted Harry to resume Occlumency lessons. Ron had the grace to look ashamed of himself. 'You were only muttering a bit,' he mumbled

apologetically. 'Something about "just a bit further".' 'I dreamed I was watching you lot play Quidditch,' Harry lied brutally. 'I was trying to get you to stretch out a bit further to grab the Quaffle.' Ron's ears went red. Harry felt a kind of vindictive pleasure; he had not, of course, dreamed anything of the sort. Last night, he had once again made the journey along the Department of Mysteries corridor. He had passed through the circular room, then the room full of clicking and dancing light, until he found himself again inside that cavernous room full of shelves on which were ranged dusty glass spheres. He had hurried straight towards row number ninety-seven, turned left and run along it... it had probably been then that he had spoken aloud... just a bit further... for he felt his conscious self struggling to wake... and before he had reached the end of the row, he had found himself lying in bed again, gazing up at the canopy of his four-poster. 'You are trying to block your mind, aren't you?' said. 'You are keeping going with your Occlumency?' 'Of course I am,' said Harry, trying to sound as though this question was insulting, but not quite meeting her eye. The truth was he was so intensely curious about what was hidden in that room full of dusty orbs, that he was quite keen for the dreams to continue. The problem was that with just under a month to go until the exams and every free moment devoted to revision, his mind seemed so saturated with information when he went to bed he found it very difficult to get to sleep at all; and when he did, his overwrought brain presented him most nights with stupid dreams about the exams. 'You know,' said Ron, whose ears were still flaming red, 'if Montague doesn't recover before Slytherin play Hufflepuff, we might be in with a chance of winning the Cup.' 'Yeah, I s'pose so,' said Harry, glad of a change of subject. 'I mean, we've won one, lost one - if Slytherin lose to Hufflepuff next

etically. 'Something about "just a bit further".' 'I dreamed I was watching you lot play Quidditch,' Harry lied brutally. 'I was trying to get you to stretch out a bit further to grab the Quaffle.' Ron's ears went red. Harry felt a kind of vindictive pleasure; he had not, of course, dreamed anything of the sort. Last night, he had once again made the journey along the Department of Mysteries corridor. He had passed through the circular room, then the room full of clicking and dancing light, until he found himself again inside that cavernous room full of shelves on which were ranged dusty glass spheres. He had hurried straight towards row number ninety-seven, turned left and run along it... it had probably been then that he had spoken aloud... just a bit further... for he felt his conscious self struggling to wake... and before he had reached the end of the row, he had found himself lying in bed again, gazing up at the canopy of his four-poster. 'You are trying to block your mind, aren't you?' said. 'You are keeping going with your Occlumency?' 'Of course I am,' said Harry, trying to sound as though this question was insulting, but not quite meeting her eye. The truth was he was so intensely curious about what was hidden in that room full of dusty orbs, that he was quite keen for the dreams to continue. The problem was that with just under a month to go until the exams and every free moment devoted to revision, his mind seemed so saturated with information when he went to bed he found it very difficult to get to sleep at all; and when he did, his overwrought brain presented him most nights with stupid dreams about the exams. 'You know,' said Ron, whose ears were still flaming red, 'if Montague doesn't recover before Slytherin play Hufflepuff, we might be in with a chance of winning the Cup.' 'Yeah, I s'pose so,' said Harry, glad of a change of subject. 'I mean, we've won one, lost one - if Slytherin lose to Hufflepuff next

Saturday - ' 'Yeah, that's right,' said Harry, losing track of what he was agreeing to. Cho Chang had just walked across the courtyard, determinedly not looking at him. * The final match of the Quidditch season, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, was to take place on the last weekend of May. Although Slytherin had been narrowly defeated by Hufflepuff in their last match, Gryffindor were not daring to hope for victory, due mainly (though of course nobody said it to him) to Ron's abysmal goal-keeping record. He, however, seemed to have found a new optimism. They never exactly gave him a lot of confidence.' Luna Lovegood overtook them with what appeared to be a live eagle perched on top of her head. 'Cho will be playing, won't she?' Harry, who had not forgotten this, merely grunted. They found seats in the topmost row of the stands. It was a fine, ckar day; Ron could not wish for better, and Harry found himself hoping against hope that Ron would not give the Slytherins cause for more rousing choruses of 'Weasley is our King'. Lee Jordan, who had been very dispirited since Fred and George had left, was commentating as usual. As the teams zoomed out on to the pitch he named the players with something less than his usual gusto. '... Bradley... Davies... Chang,' he said, and Harry felt his stomach perform, less of a back flip, more a feeble lurch as Cho walked out on to the pitch, her shiny black hair rippling in the slight breeze.. He was not sure what he wanted to happen any more, except that he could not stand any more rows. Even the sight of her chatting animatedly to Roger Davies as they prepared to mount their brooms caused him only a slight twinge of jealousy. 'And they're off!' said Lee. 'And Davies takes the Quaffle immediately, Ravenclaw Captain Davies with the Quaffle, he dodges Johnson, he dodges Bell, he dodges Spinnet as well... he's going straight for

- ' 'Yeah, that's right,' said Harry, losing track of what he was agreeing to. Cho Chang had just walked across the courtyard, determinedly not looking at him. * The final match of the Quidditch season, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, was to take place on the last weekend of May. Although Slytherin had been narrowly defeated by Hufflepuff in their last match, Gryffindor were not daring to hope for victory, due mainly (though of course nobody said it to him) to Ron's abysmal goal-keeping record. He, however, seemed to have found a new optimism. They never exactly gave him a lot of confidence.' Luna Lovegood overtook them with what appeared to be a live eagle perched on top of her head. 'Cho will be playing, won't she?' Harry, who had not forgotten this, merely grunted. They found seats in the topmost row of the stands. It was a fine, ckar day; Ron could not wish for better, and Harry found himself hoping against hope that Ron would not give the Slytherins cause for more rousing choruses of 'Weasley is our King'. Lee Jordan, who had been very dispirited since Fred and George had left, was commentating as usual. As the teams zoomed out on to the pitch he named the players with something less than his usual gusto. '... Bradley... Davies... Chang,' he said, and Harry felt his stomach perform, less of a back flip, more a feeble lurch as Cho walked out on to the pitch, her shiny black hair rippling in the slight breeze.. He was not sure what he wanted to happen any more, except that he could not stand any more rows. Even the sight of her chatting animatedly to Roger Davies as they prepared to mount their brooms caused him only a slight twinge of jealousy. 'And they're off!' said Lee. 'And Davies takes the Quaffle immediately, Ravenclaw Captain Davies with the Quaffle, he dodges Johnson, he dodges Bell, he dodges Spinnet as well... he's going straight for

goal! He's going to shoot - and - and -'Lee swore very loudly. Predictably, horribly the Slytherins on the other side of the stands began to sing: 'Weasley cannot save a thing He cannot block a single ring...' 'Harry,' said a hoarse voice in Harry's ear...' Harry looked round and saw Hagrid's enormous bearded face sticking between the seats. Apparently, he had squeezed his way all along the row behind, for the first- and second-years he had just passed had a ruffled, flattened look about them. For some reason, Hagrid was bent double as though anxious not to be seen, though he was still at least four feet taller than everybody else. 'Listen,' he whispered, 'can yeh come with me? Now? While ev'ryone's watchin' the match?' 'Er... can't it wait, Hagrid?' asked Harry. till the match is over?' 'No,' said Hagrid. 'No, Harry, it's gotta be now... while ev'ryone's lookin' the other way... please?' Hagrid's nose was gently dripping blood. His eyes were both blackened. Harry had not seen him this close-up since his return to the school; he looked utterly woebegone. The people in Hagrid's row were not complaining, merely attempting to make themselves as small as possible. 'I 'ppreciate this, you two, I really do,' said Hagrid as they reached the stairs. He kept looking around nervously as they descended towards the lawn below. 'I jus' hope she doesn' notice us goin'.' 'You mean Umbridge?' said Harry. 'She won't, she's got her whole Inquisitorial Squad sitting with her, didn't you see? She must be expecting trouble at the match.' 'Yeah, well, a bit o' trouble wouldn' hurt,' said Hagrid, pausing to peer around the edge of the stands to make sure the stretch of lawn between there and his cabin was deserted. 'Yeh -

! He's going to shoot - and - and -'Lee swore very loudly. Predictably, horribly the Slytherins on the other side of the stands began to sing: 'Weasley cannot save a thing He cannot block a single ring...' 'Harry,' said a hoarse voice in Harry's ear...' Harry looked round and saw Hagrid's enormous bearded face sticking between the seats. Apparently, he had squeezed his way all along the row behind, for the first- and second-years he had just passed had a ruffled, flattened look about them. For some reason, Hagrid was bent double as though anxious not to be seen, though he was still at least four feet taller than everybody else. 'Listen,' he whispered, 'can yeh come with me? Now? While ev'ryone's watchin' the match?' 'Er... can't it wait, Hagrid?' asked Harry. till the match is over?' 'No,' said Hagrid. 'No, Harry, it's gotta be now... while ev'ryone's lookin' the other way... please?' Hagrid's nose was gently dripping blood. His eyes were both blackened. Harry had not seen him this close-up since his return to the school; he looked utterly woebegone. The people in Hagrid's row were not complaining, merely attempting to make themselves as small as possible. 'I 'ppreciate this, you two, I really do,' said Hagrid as they reached the stairs. He kept looking around nervously as they descended towards the lawn below. 'I jus' hope she doesn' notice us goin'.' 'You mean Umbridge?' said Harry. 'She won't, she's got her whole Inquisitorial Squad sitting with her, didn't you see? She must be expecting trouble at the match.' 'Yeah, well, a bit o' trouble wouldn' hurt,' said Hagrid, pausing to peer around the edge of the stands to make sure the stretch of lawn between there and his cabin was deserted. 'Yeh -

yeh'll see in a mo',' said Hagrid, looking over his shoulder as a great roar rose from the stands behind them. 'Hey - did someone jus' score?' 'It'll be Ravenclaw,' said Harry heavily. 'Good... good...' said Hagrid distractedly. 'Tha's good...' They had to jog to keep up with him as he strode across the lawn, looking around with every other step. Hagrid, however, walked straight past it into the shade of the trees on the outermost edge of the Forest, where he picked up a crossbow that was leaning against a tree. When he realised they were no longer with him, he turned. 'We're goin' in here,' he said, jerking his shaggy head behind him. 'Yeah,' said Hagrid. 'Hagrid, why are you armed?' said Harry. 'Jus' a precaution,' said Hagrid, shrugging his massive shoulders. 'Nah, well, we weren' goin' in so far then,' said Hagrid. They used ter be - well, yeh couldn' call 'em friendly - but we got on all righ'. Kept 'emselves to 'emselves, bu' always turned up if I wanted a word. Not any more.' He sighed deeply. 'Firenze said they're angry because he went to work for Dumbledore,' Harry said, tripping on a protruding root because he was busy watching Hagrid's profile. 'Yeah,' said Hagrid heavily. 'Well, angry doesn' cover it. Ruddy livid. 'Yep,' said Hagrid gruffly, forcing his way through several low-hanging branches. 'He had half the herd on to him.' 'And you stopped it?' said Harry, amazed and impressed. 'By yourself?' 'Course I did, couldn't stand by an' watch 'em kill 'im, cou!d I?' said Hagrid. 'Lucky I was passin', really... an' I'd've thought Firenze mighta remembered tha' before he started

h'll see in a mo',' said Hagrid, looking over his shoulder as a great roar rose from the stands behind them. 'Hey - did someone jus' score?' 'It'll be Ravenclaw,' said Harry heavily. 'Good... good...' said Hagrid distractedly. 'Tha's good...' They had to jog to keep up with him as he strode across the lawn, looking around with every other step. Hagrid, however, walked straight past it into the shade of the trees on the outermost edge of the Forest, where he picked up a crossbow that was leaning against a tree. When he realised they were no longer with him, he turned. 'We're goin' in here,' he said, jerking his shaggy head behind him. 'Yeah,' said Hagrid. 'Hagrid, why are you armed?' said Harry. 'Jus' a precaution,' said Hagrid, shrugging his massive shoulders. 'Nah, well, we weren' goin' in so far then,' said Hagrid. They used ter be - well, yeh couldn' call 'em friendly - but we got on all righ'. Kept 'emselves to 'emselves, bu' always turned up if I wanted a word. Not any more.' He sighed deeply. 'Firenze said they're angry because he went to work for Dumbledore,' Harry said, tripping on a protruding root because he was busy watching Hagrid's profile. 'Yeah,' said Hagrid heavily. 'Well, angry doesn' cover it. Ruddy livid. 'Yep,' said Hagrid gruffly, forcing his way through several low-hanging branches. 'He had half the herd on to him.' 'And you stopped it?' said Harry, amazed and impressed. 'By yourself?' 'Course I did, couldn't stand by an' watch 'em kill 'im, cou!d I?' said Hagrid. 'Lucky I was passin', really... an' I'd've thought Firenze mighta remembered tha' before he started

sendin' me stup d warnin's!' he added hotly and unexpectedly. 'Anyway,' he said, breathing a little more heavily than usud,'since then the other centaurs've bin livid with me, an' the trouble is they've got a lot of influence in the Forest... The centaurs?' 'Ah, no,' said Hagrid, shaking his head dismissively, 'no, it's not them. Well, o' course, they could complicate the problem, yeah... but yeh'll see what I mean in a bit.' On this incomprehensible note he fell silent and forged a little ahead, taking one stride for every three of theirs, so that they had great trouble keeping up with him. The path was becoming increasingly overgrown and the trees grew so closely together as they walked further and further into the Forest that it was as dark as dusk. They were soon a long way past the clearing where Hagrid had shown them the Thestrals, but Harry felt no sense of unease until Hagrid stepped unexpectedly off the path and began wending his way in and out of trees towards the dark heart of the Forest. 'Hagrid!' said Harry, fighting his way through thickly knotted brambles, over which Hagrid had stepped with ease, and remembering very vividly what had happened to him on the other occasion he had stepped off the Forest path. 'Where are we going?' 'Bit further,' said Hagrid over his shoulder. 'C'mon, Harry... Harry's arms and legs were soon covered in small cuts and scratches. They were so deep in the Forest now that sometimes all Harry could see of Hagrid in the gloom was a massive dark shape ahead of him. Any sound seemed threatening in the muffled silence. The breaking of a twig echoed loudly and the tiniest rustle of movement, even though it might have been made by an innocent sparrow, caused Harry to peer through the gloom for a culprit. It occurred to him that he had never managed to get this far into the Forest without meeting some kind of creature; their absence struck him as rather ominous. 'Er... all righ',' Hagrid whispered back.

in' me stup d warnin's!' he added hotly and unexpectedly. 'Anyway,' he said, breathing a little more heavily than usud,'since then the other centaurs've bin livid with me, an' the trouble is they've got a lot of influence in the Forest... The centaurs?' 'Ah, no,' said Hagrid, shaking his head dismissively, 'no, it's not them. Well, o' course, they could complicate the problem, yeah... but yeh'll see what I mean in a bit.' On this incomprehensible note he fell silent and forged a little ahead, taking one stride for every three of theirs, so that they had great trouble keeping up with him. The path was becoming increasingly overgrown and the trees grew so closely together as they walked further and further into the Forest that it was as dark as dusk. They were soon a long way past the clearing where Hagrid had shown them the Thestrals, but Harry felt no sense of unease until Hagrid stepped unexpectedly off the path and began wending his way in and out of trees towards the dark heart of the Forest. 'Hagrid!' said Harry, fighting his way through thickly knotted brambles, over which Hagrid had stepped with ease, and remembering very vividly what had happened to him on the other occasion he had stepped off the Forest path. 'Where are we going?' 'Bit further,' said Hagrid over his shoulder. 'C'mon, Harry... Harry's arms and legs were soon covered in small cuts and scratches. They were so deep in the Forest now that sometimes all Harry could see of Hagrid in the gloom was a massive dark shape ahead of him. Any sound seemed threatening in the muffled silence. The breaking of a twig echoed loudly and the tiniest rustle of movement, even though it might have been made by an innocent sparrow, caused Harry to peer through the gloom for a culprit. It occurred to him that he had never managed to get this far into the Forest without meeting some kind of creature; their absence struck him as rather ominous. 'Er... all righ',' Hagrid whispered back.

Harry caught her just before she hit the Forest floor. 'Maybe we bes' jus' stop fer a momen', so I can... fill yeh in,' said Hagrid. They both murmured 'Lumos/' and their wand-tips ignited. Hagrid's face swam through the gloom by the light of the two wavering beams and Harry saw again that he looked nervous and sad. 'Righ',' said Hagrid. 'Well... see... the thing is...' He took a great breath. 'Well, there's a good chance I'm goin' ter be gettin' the sack any day now,' he said. 'What makes you think - ' 'Umbridge reckons it was me that put tha' Niffler in her office.' 'And was it?' said Harry, before he could stop himself. 'No, it ruddy well wasn'!' said Hagrid indignantly. 'On'y any-thin' ter do with magical creatures an' she thinks it's got somethin' ter do with me. Yeh know she's bin lookin' fer a chance ter get rid of me ever since I got back. I don' wan' ter go, o' course, but if it wasn' fer... well... 'It's not the end o' the world, I'll be able ter help Dumbledo-e once I'm outta here, I can be useful ter the Order. Air you lot'll have Grubbly-Plank, yeh'll - yeh'll get through yer exams fine...' His voice trembled and broke. He pulled his enormous spotted handkerchief from the pocket of his waistcoat and mopped his eyes with it. 'Look, I wouldn' be tellin' yer this at all if I didn' have ter. See, if I go... well, I can' leave withou'... withou' tellin' someone... because I'll - I'll need yeh two ter help me. An' Ron, if he's willin'.' 'Of course we'll help you,'

caught her just before she hit the Forest floor. 'Maybe we bes' jus' stop fer a momen', so I can... fill yeh in,' said Hagrid. They both murmured 'Lumos/' and their wand-tips ignited. Hagrid's face swam through the gloom by the light of the two wavering beams and Harry saw again that he looked nervous and sad. 'Righ',' said Hagrid. 'Well... see... the thing is...' He took a great breath. 'Well, there's a good chance I'm goin' ter be gettin' the sack any day now,' he said. 'What makes you think - ' 'Umbridge reckons it was me that put tha' Niffler in her office.' 'And was it?' said Harry, before he could stop himself. 'No, it ruddy well wasn'!' said Hagrid indignantly. 'On'y any-thin' ter do with magical creatures an' she thinks it's got somethin' ter do with me. Yeh know she's bin lookin' fer a chance ter get rid of me ever since I got back. I don' wan' ter go, o' course, but if it wasn' fer... well... 'It's not the end o' the world, I'll be able ter help Dumbledo-e once I'm outta here, I can be useful ter the Order. Air you lot'll have Grubbly-Plank, yeh'll - yeh'll get through yer exams fine...' His voice trembled and broke. He pulled his enormous spotted handkerchief from the pocket of his waistcoat and mopped his eyes with it. 'Look, I wouldn' be tellin' yer this at all if I didn' have ter. See, if I go... well, I can' leave withou'... withou' tellin' someone... because I'll - I'll need yeh two ter help me. An' Ron, if he's willin'.' 'Of course we'll help you,'

said Harry at once. 'What do you want us to do?' Hagrid gave a great sniff and patted Harry wordlessly on the shoulder with such force Harry was knocked sideways into a tree. 'I knew yeh'd say yes,' said Hagrid into his handkerchief, 'but I won'... never... forget... well... c'mon... jus' a little bit further through here... watch yerselves, now, there's nettles...' They walked on in silence for another fifteen minutes; Harry had opened his mouth to ask how much further they had to go when Hagrid threw out his right arm to signal that they should stop. 'Really easy,' he said softly. 'Very quiet, now...' They crept forwards and Harry saw that they were facing a large, smooth mound of earth nearly as tall as Hagrid that he thought, with a jolt of dread, was sure to be the lair of some enormous animal. 'Sleepin',' breathed Hagrid. Sure enough, Harry could hear a distant, rhythmic rumbling that sounded like a pair of enormous lungs at work. She looked utterly terrified. 'Hagrid,' she said in a whisper barely audible over the sound of the sleeping creature, 'who is he?' Harry found this an odd question... 'What is it?' was the one he; had been planning on asking. It was not a mound at all. It was the curved back of what was clearly - ' 'Well - no - he didn' want ter come,' said Hagrid, sounding desperate. 'He's been hurting you all this time, hasn't he? That's why you've had all these injuries!' 'He don' know his own strength!' said Hagrid earnestly. 'Oh, Hagrid, why did you bring him back if he didn't want to come? 'Hagrid, when you say "brother",' said Harry slowly, 'do you mean -?' 'Well - half-brother,' amended Hagrid. Turns out me mother took up with another giant

Harry at once. 'What do you want us to do?' Hagrid gave a great sniff and patted Harry wordlessly on the shoulder with such force Harry was knocked sideways into a tree. 'I knew yeh'd say yes,' said Hagrid into his handkerchief, 'but I won'... never... forget... well... c'mon... jus' a little bit further through here... watch yerselves, now, there's nettles...' They walked on in silence for another fifteen minutes; Harry had opened his mouth to ask how much further they had to go when Hagrid threw out his right arm to signal that they should stop. 'Really easy,' he said softly. 'Very quiet, now...' They crept forwards and Harry saw that they were facing a large, smooth mound of earth nearly as tall as Hagrid that he thought, with a jolt of dread, was sure to be the lair of some enormous animal. 'Sleepin',' breathed Hagrid. Sure enough, Harry could hear a distant, rhythmic rumbling that sounded like a pair of enormous lungs at work. She looked utterly terrified. 'Hagrid,' she said in a whisper barely audible over the sound of the sleeping creature, 'who is he?' Harry found this an odd question... 'What is it?' was the one he; had been planning on asking. It was not a mound at all. It was the curved back of what was clearly - ' 'Well - no - he didn' want ter come,' said Hagrid, sounding desperate. 'He's been hurting you all this time, hasn't he? That's why you've had all these injuries!' 'He don' know his own strength!' said Hagrid earnestly. 'Oh, Hagrid, why did you bring him back if he didn't want to come? 'Hagrid, when you say "brother",' said Harry slowly, 'do you mean -?' 'Well - half-brother,' amended Hagrid. Turns out me mother took up with another giant

when she left me dad, an' she went an' had Grawp here - ' 'Grawp?' said Harry. 'Yeah... well, tha's what it sounds like when he says his name,' said Hagrid anxiously. 'He don' speak a lot of English... I've bin tryin' ter teach him... anyway, she don' seem ter have liked him much more'n she liked me. 'Absolutely minuscule!' 'He was bein' kicked aroun' by all o' them - I jus' couldn' leave him -' 'Did Madame Maxime want to bring him back?' asked Harry. 'She - well, she could see it was right importan' ter me,' said Hagrid, twisting his enormous hands. 'Bu' - bu' she got a bit tired o' him after a while, I must admit... so we split up on the journey home... she promised not ter tell anyone, though..." 'How on earth did you gel him back without anyone noticing?' said Harry. 'Well, tha's why it took so long, see,' said Hagrid. 'Could on'y travel by nigh' an' through wild country an' stuff. 'What do you think you're going to do with a violent giant who doesn't even want to be here!' 'Well, now - "violent" - tha's a bit harsh,' said Hagrid, still twisting his hands agitatedly. 'I'll admit he mighta taken a couple o' swings at me when he's bin in a bad mood, but he's gettin' better, loads better, settlin' down well.' 'What are those ropes for, then?' Harry asked. He had just noticed ropes thick as saplings stretching from around the trunks of the largest nearby trees towards the place where Grawp lay curled on the ground with his back to them. 'Well... yeah...' said Hagrid, looking anxious. 'See - it's like I say - he doesn' really know 'is own strength.' Harry understood now why there had been such a suspicious lack of

she left me dad, an' she went an' had Grawp here - ' 'Grawp?' said Harry. 'Yeah... well, tha's what it sounds like when he says his name,' said Hagrid anxiously. 'He don' speak a lot of English... I've bin tryin' ter teach him... anyway, she don' seem ter have liked him much more'n she liked me. 'Absolutely minuscule!' 'He was bein' kicked aroun' by all o' them - I jus' couldn' leave him -' 'Did Madame Maxime want to bring him back?' asked Harry. 'She - well, she could see it was right importan' ter me,' said Hagrid, twisting his enormous hands. 'Bu' - bu' she got a bit tired o' him after a while, I must admit... so we split up on the journey home... she promised not ter tell anyone, though..." 'How on earth did you gel him back without anyone noticing?' said Harry. 'Well, tha's why it took so long, see,' said Hagrid. 'Could on'y travel by nigh' an' through wild country an' stuff. 'What do you think you're going to do with a violent giant who doesn't even want to be here!' 'Well, now - "violent" - tha's a bit harsh,' said Hagrid, still twisting his hands agitatedly. 'I'll admit he mighta taken a couple o' swings at me when he's bin in a bad mood, but he's gettin' better, loads better, settlin' down well.' 'What are those ropes for, then?' Harry asked. He had just noticed ropes thick as saplings stretching from around the trunks of the largest nearby trees towards the place where Grawp lay curled on the ground with his back to them. 'Well... yeah...' said Hagrid, looking anxious. 'See - it's like I say - he doesn' really know 'is own strength.' Harry understood now why there had been such a suspicious lack of

any other living creature in this part of the Forest. 'Look after him,' said Hagrid croakily. 'Not food or anythin'!' said Hagrid eagerly. 'He can get his own fcod, no problem. Birds an' deer an' stuff... no, it's company he needs. It I jus' knew someone was carryin on trym ter help him a bit... teachin' him, yeh know.' Harry said nothing, but turned to look back at the gigantic form lying asleep on the ground in front of them. Unlike Hagrid, who simply looked like an oversized human, Grawp looked strangely misshapen. What Harry had taken to be a vast mossy boulder to the left of the great earthen mound he now recognised as Grawp's head. It was much larger in proportion to the body than a human head, and was almost perfectly round and covered with tightly curling, close-growing hair the colour of bracken. The rim of a single large, fleshy ear was visible on top of the head, which seemed to sit, rather like Uncle Vernon's, directly upon the shoulders with little or no neck in between. The back, under what looked like a dirty brownish smock comprised of animal skins sewn roughly together, was very broad; and as Grawp slept, it seemed to strain a little at the rough seams of the skins. The legs were curled up under the body. Harry could see the soles of enormous, filthy, bare feet, large as sledges, resting one on top of the other on the earthy Forest floor. 'You want us to teach him,' Harry said in a hollow voice. He now understood what Firenze's warning had meant. His attempt is not working. He would do better to abandon it. Of course, the other creatures who lived in the Forest would have heard Hagrid's fruitless attempts to teach Grawp English. 'Yeah - even if yeh jus' talk ter him a bit,' said Hagrid hopefully. 'Kind of makes you wish we had Norbert back, doesn't it?' he said, and she gave a very shaky laugh. 'Yeh

other living creature in this part of the Forest. 'Look after him,' said Hagrid croakily. 'Not food or anythin'!' said Hagrid eagerly. 'He can get his own fcod, no problem. Birds an' deer an' stuff... no, it's company he needs. It I jus' knew someone was carryin on trym ter help him a bit... teachin' him, yeh know.' Harry said nothing, but turned to look back at the gigantic form lying asleep on the ground in front of them. Unlike Hagrid, who simply looked like an oversized human, Grawp looked strangely misshapen. What Harry had taken to be a vast mossy boulder to the left of the great earthen mound he now recognised as Grawp's head. It was much larger in proportion to the body than a human head, and was almost perfectly round and covered with tightly curling, close-growing hair the colour of bracken. The rim of a single large, fleshy ear was visible on top of the head, which seemed to sit, rather like Uncle Vernon's, directly upon the shoulders with little or no neck in between. The back, under what looked like a dirty brownish smock comprised of animal skins sewn roughly together, was very broad; and as Grawp slept, it seemed to strain a little at the rough seams of the skins. The legs were curled up under the body. Harry could see the soles of enormous, filthy, bare feet, large as sledges, resting one on top of the other on the earthy Forest floor. 'You want us to teach him,' Harry said in a hollow voice. He now understood what Firenze's warning had meant. His attempt is not working. He would do better to abandon it. Of course, the other creatures who lived in the Forest would have heard Hagrid's fruitless attempts to teach Grawp English. 'Yeah - even if yeh jus' talk ter him a bit,' said Hagrid hopefully. 'Kind of makes you wish we had Norbert back, doesn't it?' he said, and she gave a very shaky laugh. 'Yeh

'll do it, then?' said Hagrid, who did not seem to have caugit what Harry had just said. 'We'll...' said Harry, already bound by his promise. 'We'll try, Hagrid.' 'I knew I could count on yeh, Harry,' Hagrid said, beaming.n a very watery way and dabbing at his face with his handkerchief again. 'An' I don' wan' yeh ter put yerself out too much, like... I know yeh've got exams... if yeh could jus' nip down here in yer Invisibility Cloak maybe once a week an' have a little chat with 'im. 'Hagrid, no, don't wake him, really, we don't need - ' But Hagrid had already stepped over the great tree trunk in front of them and was proceeding towards Grawp. The giant gave a roar that echoed around the silent Forest; birds in the treetops overhead rose twittering from their perches and soared away. He turned his head to see who and what had disturbed him. 'All righ', Grawpy?' said Hagrid, in a would-be cheery voice, backing away with the long bough raised, ready to poke Grawp again. Grawp knelt between two trees he had not yet uprooted. They looked up into his startlingly huge face that resembled a grey full moon swimming in the gloom of the clearing. It was as though the features had been hewn on to a great stone ball. The nose was stubby and shapeless, the mouth lopsided and full of misshapen yellow teeth the size of half-bricks; the eyes, small by giant standards, were a muddy greenish-brown and just now were half-gummed together with sleep. Grawp raised dirty knuckles, each as big as a cricket ball, to his eyes, rubbed vigorously, then, without warning, pushed himself to his feet with surprising speed and agility. The trees to which the other ends of the ropes around Grawp's wrists and ankles were attached creaked ominously. He

ll do it, then?' said Hagrid, who did not seem to have caugit what Harry had just said. 'We'll...' said Harry, already bound by his promise. 'We'll try, Hagrid.' 'I knew I could count on yeh, Harry,' Hagrid said, beaming.n a very watery way and dabbing at his face with his handkerchief again. 'An' I don' wan' yeh ter put yerself out too much, like... I know yeh've got exams... if yeh could jus' nip down here in yer Invisibility Cloak maybe once a week an' have a little chat with 'im. 'Hagrid, no, don't wake him, really, we don't need - ' But Hagrid had already stepped over the great tree trunk in front of them and was proceeding towards Grawp. The giant gave a roar that echoed around the silent Forest; birds in the treetops overhead rose twittering from their perches and soared away. He turned his head to see who and what had disturbed him. 'All righ', Grawpy?' said Hagrid, in a would-be cheery voice, backing away with the long bough raised, ready to poke Grawp again. Grawp knelt between two trees he had not yet uprooted. They looked up into his startlingly huge face that resembled a grey full moon swimming in the gloom of the clearing. It was as though the features had been hewn on to a great stone ball. The nose was stubby and shapeless, the mouth lopsided and full of misshapen yellow teeth the size of half-bricks; the eyes, small by giant standards, were a muddy greenish-brown and just now were half-gummed together with sleep. Grawp raised dirty knuckles, each as big as a cricket ball, to his eyes, rubbed vigorously, then, without warning, pushed himself to his feet with surprising speed and agility. The trees to which the other ends of the ropes around Grawp's wrists and ankles were attached creaked ominously. He

was, as Hagrid had said, at least sixteen feet tall. Gazing blearily around, Grawp reached out a hand the size of a beach umbrella, seized a bird's nest from the upper branches of a towering pine and turned it upside-down with a roar of apparent displeasure that there was no bird in it; eggs fell like grenades towards the ground and Hagrid threw his arms over his head to protect himself. 'Anyway, Grawpy,' shouted Hagrid, looking up apprehensively in case of further falling eggs, 'I've brought some friends ter meet yeh. Remember, I told yeh I might? Remember, when I said I might have ter go on a little trip an' leave them ter look after yeh fer a bit? Remember that, Grawpy?' But Grawp merely gave another low roar; it was hard to say whether he was listening to Hagrid or whether he even recognised the sounds Hagrid was making as speech. He had now seized the top of the pine tree and was pulling it towards him, evidently for the simple pleasure of seeing how far it would spring back when he let go. 'Now, Grawpy, don' do that!' shouted Hagrid. 'Tha's how you ended up pullin' up the others - ' And sure enough, Harry could see the earth around the tree's roots beginning to crack. 'I got company for yeh!' Hagrid shouted. 'Company, see! The giant let go of the top of the tree, which swayed alarmingly and deluged Hagrid with a rain of pine needles, and looked down. This,' said Hagrid, hastening over to where Harry and Herrmone stood, 'is Harry, Grawp! Harry Potter! They watched, in great trepidation, as he lowered his huge boulder of a head so that he could peer blearily at them. Her-' Hagrid hesitated. 'This is Hermy, Grawp! An' she's gonna be comin' an' all! Is'n' tha' nice? Eh? 'VERY BAD BOY! YEH DON' GRAB - OUCH!'

, as Hagrid had said, at least sixteen feet tall. Gazing blearily around, Grawp reached out a hand the size of a beach umbrella, seized a bird's nest from the upper branches of a towering pine and turned it upside-down with a roar of apparent displeasure that there was no bird in it; eggs fell like grenades towards the ground and Hagrid threw his arms over his head to protect himself. 'Anyway, Grawpy,' shouted Hagrid, looking up apprehensively in case of further falling eggs, 'I've brought some friends ter meet yeh. Remember, I told yeh I might? Remember, when I said I might have ter go on a little trip an' leave them ter look after yeh fer a bit? Remember that, Grawpy?' But Grawp merely gave another low roar; it was hard to say whether he was listening to Hagrid or whether he even recognised the sounds Hagrid was making as speech. He had now seized the top of the pine tree and was pulling it towards him, evidently for the simple pleasure of seeing how far it would spring back when he let go. 'Now, Grawpy, don' do that!' shouted Hagrid. 'Tha's how you ended up pullin' up the others - ' And sure enough, Harry could see the earth around the tree's roots beginning to crack. 'I got company for yeh!' Hagrid shouted. 'Company, see! The giant let go of the top of the tree, which swayed alarmingly and deluged Hagrid with a rain of pine needles, and looked down. This,' said Hagrid, hastening over to where Harry and Herrmone stood, 'is Harry, Grawp! Harry Potter! They watched, in great trepidation, as he lowered his huge boulder of a head so that he could peer blearily at them. Her-' Hagrid hesitated. 'This is Hermy, Grawp! An' she's gonna be comin' an' all! Is'n' tha' nice? Eh? 'VERY BAD BOY! YEH DON' GRAB - OUCH!'

Harry poked his head out from around the trunk and saw Hagrid lying on his back, his hand over his nose. Grawp, apparently losing interest, had straightened up and was again engaged in pulling back the pine as far as it would go. 'Righ',' said Hagrid thickly, getting up with one hand pinching his bleeding nose and the other grasping his crossbow, 'well... there yeh are... yeh've met him an' - an' now he'll know yeh when yeh come back. Yeah... well...' He looked up at Grawp, who was now pulling back the pine with an expression of detached pleasure on his boulderish face; the roots were creaking as he ripped them away from the ground. 'Well, I reckon tha's enough fer one day,' said Hagrid. Hagrid shouldered his crossbow again and, still pinching his nose, led the way back into the trees. Nobody spoke for a while, not even when they heard the distant crash that meant Grawp had pulled over the pine tree at last. Harry could not think of a single thing to say. What on earth was going to happen when somebody found out that Hagrid had hidden Grawp in the Forbidden Forest? And he had promised that he, Ron would continue Hagrid's totally pointless attempts to civilise the giant. How could Hagrid, even with his immense capacity to delude himself that fanged monsters were loveably harmless, fool himself that Grawp would ever be fit to mix with humans? He pulled an arrow out of the quiver over his shoulder and fitted it into the crossbow. 'Oh, blimey,' said Hagrid quietly. 'I thought we told you, Hagrid,' said a deep male voice, 'That you are no longer welcome here?' A man's naked torso seemed for an instant to be floating towards them through the dappled green half-light; then they saw that his waist joined smoothly into a horse's chestnut body. This centaur had a proud, high-cheekboned face and long black hair. Like Hagrid, he was armed; a quiverful of arrows

Harry poked his head out from around the trunk and saw Hagrid lying on his back, his hand over his nose. Grawp, apparently losing interest, had straightened up and was again engaged in pulling back the pine as far as it would go. 'Righ',' said Hagrid thickly, getting up with one hand pinching his bleeding nose and the other grasping his crossbow, 'well... there yeh are... yeh've met him an' - an' now he'll know yeh when yeh come back. Yeah... well...' He looked up at Grawp, who was now pulling back the pine with an expression of detached pleasure on his boulderish face; the roots were creaking as he ripped them away from the ground. 'Well, I reckon tha's enough fer one day,' said Hagrid. Hagrid shouldered his crossbow again and, still pinching his nose, led the way back into the trees. Nobody spoke for a while, not even when they heard the distant crash that meant Grawp had pulled over the pine tree at last. Harry could not think of a single thing to say. What on earth was going to happen when somebody found out that Hagrid had hidden Grawp in the Forbidden Forest? And he had promised that he, Ron would continue Hagrid's totally pointless attempts to civilise the giant. How could Hagrid, even with his immense capacity to delude himself that fanged monsters were loveably harmless, fool himself that Grawp would ever be fit to mix with humans? He pulled an arrow out of the quiver over his shoulder and fitted it into the crossbow. 'Oh, blimey,' said Hagrid quietly. 'I thought we told you, Hagrid,' said a deep male voice, 'That you are no longer welcome here?' A man's naked torso seemed for an instant to be floating towards them through the dappled green half-light; then they saw that his waist joined smoothly into a horse's chestnut body. This centaur had a proud, high-cheekboned face and long black hair. Like Hagrid, he was armed; a quiverful of arrows

and a longbow v/ere slung over his shoulders. 'How are yeh, Magorian?' said Hagrid warily. The trees behind the centaur rustled and four or five more centaurs emerged behind him. Harry recognised the black-bodied and bearded Bane, whom he had met nearly four years ago on the same night he had met Firenze. Bane gave no sign that he had ever seen Harry before. 'So,' he said, with a nasty inflection in his voice, before turning immediately to Magorian. 'We agreed, I think, what we would do if this human ever showed his face in the Forest again?' '"This human" now, am I?' said Hagrid testily. 'Jus' fer stoppin' all of yeh committin' murder?' 'You ought not to have meddled, Hagrid,' said Magorian. 'Our ways are not yours, nor are our laws. Firenze has betrayed and dishonoured us.' 'I dunno how yeh work that out,' said Hagrid impatiently. 'He's done nothin' except help Albus Dumbledore - ' 'Firenze has entered into servitude to humans,' said a grey centaur with a hard, deeply lined face. 'Servitude!' said Hagrid scathingly. 'He's doin' Dumbledore a favour is all - ' 'He is peddling our knowledge and secrets among humans,' said Magorian quietly. 'There can be no return from such disgrace.' 'If yeh say so,' said Hagrid, shrugging, 'but personally I think yeh're makin' a big mistake - ' 'As are you, human,' said Bane, 'coming back into our Forest when we warned you - ' 'Now, yeh listen ter me,' said Hagrid angrily. 'I'll have less of the "our" Forest, if it's all the same ter yeh. It's not up ter yeh who comes an' goes in here - ' 'No more is it up to you, Hagrid,' said Magorian smoothly. 'I shall let you pass

a longbow v/ere slung over his shoulders. 'How are yeh, Magorian?' said Hagrid warily. The trees behind the centaur rustled and four or five more centaurs emerged behind him. Harry recognised the black-bodied and bearded Bane, whom he had met nearly four years ago on the same night he had met Firenze. Bane gave no sign that he had ever seen Harry before. 'So,' he said, with a nasty inflection in his voice, before turning immediately to Magorian. 'We agreed, I think, what we would do if this human ever showed his face in the Forest again?' '"This human" now, am I?' said Hagrid testily. 'Jus' fer stoppin' all of yeh committin' murder?' 'You ought not to have meddled, Hagrid,' said Magorian. 'Our ways are not yours, nor are our laws. Firenze has betrayed and dishonoured us.' 'I dunno how yeh work that out,' said Hagrid impatiently. 'He's done nothin' except help Albus Dumbledore - ' 'Firenze has entered into servitude to humans,' said a grey centaur with a hard, deeply lined face. 'Servitude!' said Hagrid scathingly. 'He's doin' Dumbledore a favour is all - ' 'He is peddling our knowledge and secrets among humans,' said Magorian quietly. 'There can be no return from such disgrace.' 'If yeh say so,' said Hagrid, shrugging, 'but personally I think yeh're makin' a big mistake - ' 'As are you, human,' said Bane, 'coming back into our Forest when we warned you - ' 'Now, yeh listen ter me,' said Hagrid angrily. 'I'll have less of the "our" Forest, if it's all the same ter yeh. It's not up ter yeh who comes an' goes in here - ' 'No more is it up to you, Hagrid,' said Magorian smoothly. 'I shall let you pass

today because you are accompanied by your young - ' 'They're not his!' interrupted Bane contemptuously. 'Students, Magorian, from up at the school! They have probably already profited from the traitor Firenze's teachings.' 'Nevertheless,' said Magorian calmly, 'the slaughter of foals is a terrible crime - we do not touch the innocent. Today, Hagrid, you pass. Henceforth, stay away from this place. You forfeited the friendship of the centaurs when you helped the traitor Firenze escape us.' 'I won' be kept outta the Fores' by a bunch o' old mules like yeh!' said Hagrid loudly. 'We know what you are keeping in the Forest, Hagrid!' Magorian called after them, as the centaurs slipped out of sight. 'And our tolerance is waning!' Hagrid turned and gave every appearance of wanting to walk straight back to Magorian. Still scowling, he looked down; his expression changed to mild surprise at the sight of them both pushing him; he seemed not to have felt it. 'Calm down, you two,' he said, turning to walk on while they parted along behind him. At last they rejoined the path and, after another ten minutes, the trees began to thin; they were able to see patches of clear blue sky again and, in the distance, the definite sounds of cheering and shouting. 'Was that another goal?' asked Hagrid, pausing in the shelter of the trees as the Quidditch stadium came into view. Harry saw that she looked much the worse for wear; her hair was full of twigs and leaves, her robes were ripped in several places and there were numerous scratches on her face and arms. He knew he must look little better. 'I reckon it's over, yeh know!' said Hagrid, still squinting towards the stadium. 'Look - there's people comin' out already - if yeh two hurry yeh'll be able ter blend in with the crowd an' no one'll know yeh weren't there!' 'Good idea,' said Harry. 'Well... '

because you are accompanied by your young - ' 'They're not his!' interrupted Bane contemptuously. 'Students, Magorian, from up at the school! They have probably already profited from the traitor Firenze's teachings.' 'Nevertheless,' said Magorian calmly, 'the slaughter of foals is a terrible crime - we do not touch the innocent. Today, Hagrid, you pass. Henceforth, stay away from this place. You forfeited the friendship of the centaurs when you helped the traitor Firenze escape us.' 'I won' be kept outta the Fores' by a bunch o' old mules like yeh!' said Hagrid loudly. 'We know what you are keeping in the Forest, Hagrid!' Magorian called after them, as the centaurs slipped out of sight. 'And our tolerance is waning!' Hagrid turned and gave every appearance of wanting to walk straight back to Magorian. Still scowling, he looked down; his expression changed to mild surprise at the sight of them both pushing him; he seemed not to have felt it. 'Calm down, you two,' he said, turning to walk on while they parted along behind him. At last they rejoined the path and, after another ten minutes, the trees began to thin; they were able to see patches of clear blue sky again and, in the distance, the definite sounds of cheering and shouting. 'Was that another goal?' asked Hagrid, pausing in the shelter of the trees as the Quidditch stadium came into view. Harry saw that she looked much the worse for wear; her hair was full of twigs and leaves, her robes were ripped in several places and there were numerous scratches on her face and arms. He knew he must look little better. 'I reckon it's over, yeh know!' said Hagrid, still squinting towards the stadium. 'Look - there's people comin' out already - if yeh two hurry yeh'll be able ter blend in with the crowd an' no one'll know yeh weren't there!' 'Good idea,' said Harry. 'Well... '

I don't believe him. I really don't believe him.' 'Calm down,' said Harry. 'Calm down!' she said feverishly. 'A giant! A giant in the Forest! And we're supposed to give him English lessons! Always assuming, of course, we can get past the herd of murderous centaurs on the way in and out! I - don't - believe - him!' 'We haven't got to do anything yet!' Harry tried to reassure her in a quiet voice, as they joined a stream of jabbering Hufflepuffs heading back towards the castle. 'Of course he's going to be chucked out and, to be perfectly honest, after what we've just seen, who can blame Umbridge?' There was a pause in which Harry glared at her, and her eyes filled slowly with tears. 'You didn't mean that,' said Harry quietly. 'No... well... all right... I didn't,' she said, wiping her eyes angrily. 'But why does he have to make life so difficult for himself - for us?' 'I dunno - ' 'Weasley is our King, Weasley is our King, He didn't let the Quaffle in, Weasley is our King....' said Harry slowly. The song was growing louder, but it was issuing not from a crowd of green-and-silver-clad Slytherins, but from a mass of red and gold moving slowly towards the castle, bearing a solitary figure upon its many shoulders. 'Weasley is our King, Weasley is our King, He didn't let the Quaffle in, Weasley is our King.. 'YES!' said Harry loudly. 'HARRY! 'WE DID IT! WE WON!' They beamed up at him as he passed. There was a scrum at the door of the castle and Ron's head got rather badly bumped on the lintel, but nobody seemed to want to put him down. Still singing, the crowd squeezed itself into the Entrance Hall and out of sight. Then they turned to each

don't believe him. I really don't believe him.' 'Calm down,' said Harry. 'Calm down!' she said feverishly. 'A giant! A giant in the Forest! And we're supposed to give him English lessons! Always assuming, of course, we can get past the herd of murderous centaurs on the way in and out! I - don't - believe - him!' 'We haven't got to do anything yet!' Harry tried to reassure her in a quiet voice, as they joined a stream of jabbering Hufflepuffs heading back towards the castle. 'Of course he's going to be chucked out and, to be perfectly honest, after what we've just seen, who can blame Umbridge?' There was a pause in which Harry glared at her, and her eyes filled slowly with tears. 'You didn't mean that,' said Harry quietly. 'No... well... all right... I didn't,' she said, wiping her eyes angrily. 'But why does he have to make life so difficult for himself - for us?' 'I dunno - ' 'Weasley is our King, Weasley is our King, He didn't let the Quaffle in, Weasley is our King....' said Harry slowly. The song was growing louder, but it was issuing not from a crowd of green-and-silver-clad Slytherins, but from a mass of red and gold moving slowly towards the castle, bearing a solitary figure upon its many shoulders. 'Weasley is our King, Weasley is our King, He didn't let the Quaffle in, Weasley is our King.. 'YES!' said Harry loudly. 'HARRY! 'WE DID IT! WE WON!' They beamed up at him as he passed. There was a scrum at the door of the castle and Ron's head got rather badly bumped on the lintel, but nobody seemed to want to put him down. Still singing, the crowd squeezed itself into the Entrance Hall and out of sight. Then they turned to each

other, their smiles fading. 'I'm not in any hurry.' They climbed the steps together. At the front doors both instinctively looked back at the Forbidden Forest. Harry was not sure whether or not it was his imagination, but he rather thought he saw a small cloud of birds erupting into the air over the tree tops in the distance, almost as though the tree in which they had been nesting had just been pulled up by the roots. - CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - OWLs Ron's euphoria at helping Gryffindor scrape the Quidditch cup was such that he couldn't settle to anything next day. Not that either of them tried very hard; neither was keen to be the one to bring Ron back to reality in quite such a brutal fashion. As it was another fine, warm day, they persuaded him to join them in revising under the beech tree at the edge of the lake, where they had less chance of being overheard than in the common room. Ron was not particularly keen on this idea at first - he was thoroughly enjoying being patted on the back by every Gryffindor who walked past his chair, not to mention the occasional outbursts of 'Weasley is our King' - but after a while he agreed that some fresh air might do him good. They spread their books out in the shade of the beech tree and sat down while Ron talked them through his first save of the match for what felt like the dozenth time. 'Well, I mean, I'd already let in that one of Daviess, so I wasn't feeling all that confident, but I dunno, when Bradley came towards me, just out of nowhere, I thought - you can do this! And I had about a second to decide which way to fly, you know, because he looked like he was aiming for the right goalhoop - my right, obviously, his left - but I had a funny feeling that he was feinting, and so I took the chance and flew left - his right, I mean - and - well - you saw what happened,' he concluded modestly, sweeping his hair back quite unnecessarily so that it looked interestingly windswept and glancing around to see whether the people nearest to them - a bunch of

, their smiles fading. 'I'm not in any hurry.' They climbed the steps together. At the front doors both instinctively looked back at the Forbidden Forest. Harry was not sure whether or not it was his imagination, but he rather thought he saw a small cloud of birds erupting into the air over the tree tops in the distance, almost as though the tree in which they had been nesting had just been pulled up by the roots. - CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - OWLs Ron's euphoria at helping Gryffindor scrape the Quidditch cup was such that he couldn't settle to anything next day. Not that either of them tried very hard; neither was keen to be the one to bring Ron back to reality in quite such a brutal fashion. As it was another fine, warm day, they persuaded him to join them in revising under the beech tree at the edge of the lake, where they had less chance of being overheard than in the common room. Ron was not particularly keen on this idea at first - he was thoroughly enjoying being patted on the back by every Gryffindor who walked past his chair, not to mention the occasional outbursts of 'Weasley is our King' - but after a while he agreed that some fresh air might do him good. They spread their books out in the shade of the beech tree and sat down while Ron talked them through his first save of the match for what felt like the dozenth time. 'Well, I mean, I'd already let in that one of Daviess, so I wasn't feeling all that confident, but I dunno, when Bradley came towards me, just out of nowhere, I thought - you can do this! And I had about a second to decide which way to fly, you know, because he looked like he was aiming for the right goalhoop - my right, obviously, his left - but I had a funny feeling that he was feinting, and so I took the chance and flew left - his right, I mean - and - well - you saw what happened,' he concluded modestly, sweeping his hair back quite unnecessarily so that it looked interestingly windswept and glancing around to see whether the people nearest to them - a bunch of

gossiping third-year Hufflepulis - had heard him. 'And then, when Chambers came at me about five minutes later - What?' Ron asked, having stopped mid-sentence at the look on Harry's face. 'Why are you grinning?' 'I'm not,' said Harry quickly, and looked down at his Transfiguration notes, attempting to straighten his lace. The truth was that Ron had just reminded Harry forcibly of another Gryffindor Quidditch player who had once sat rumpling his hair under this very tree. 'I'm just glad we won, that's all.' 'Yeah,' said Ron slowly, savouring the words, 'we won. Did you see the look on Chang's face when Ginny got the Snitch right out from under her nose?' 'I suppose she cried, did she?' said Harry bitterly. 'Well, yeah - more out of temper than anything, though...' Ron frowned slightly. 'But you saw her chuck her broom away when she got back to the ground, didn't you?' 'Er -'said Harry 'Well, actually... 'As a matter of fact, the only bit of the match Harry and I saw was Davies's first goal.' Ron's carefully ruffled hair seemed to wilt with disappointment. 'You didn't watch?' he said faintly, looking from one to the other. 'But Ron, we didn't want to leave - we had to!' 'Yeah?' said Ron, whose face was growing rather red. 'How come?' 'It was Hagrid,' said Harry. 'He decided to tell us why he's been covered in injuries ever since he got back from the giants. He wanted us to go into the Forest with him, we had no choice, you know how he gets. Anyway..." The story was told in five minutes, by the end of which Ron's indignation had been replaced by a look of total incredulity. 'He brought one back and hid it in the Forest?' 'Yep,' said Harry grimly. 'No,' said Ron, as though by saying this he could make it untrue. '

ossiping third-year Hufflepulis - had heard him. 'And then, when Chambers came at me about five minutes later - What?' Ron asked, having stopped mid-sentence at the look on Harry's face. 'Why are you grinning?' 'I'm not,' said Harry quickly, and looked down at his Transfiguration notes, attempting to straighten his lace. The truth was that Ron had just reminded Harry forcibly of another Gryffindor Quidditch player who had once sat rumpling his hair under this very tree. 'I'm just glad we won, that's all.' 'Yeah,' said Ron slowly, savouring the words, 'we won. Did you see the look on Chang's face when Ginny got the Snitch right out from under her nose?' 'I suppose she cried, did she?' said Harry bitterly. 'Well, yeah - more out of temper than anything, though...' Ron frowned slightly. 'But you saw her chuck her broom away when she got back to the ground, didn't you?' 'Er -'said Harry 'Well, actually... 'As a matter of fact, the only bit of the match Harry and I saw was Davies's first goal.' Ron's carefully ruffled hair seemed to wilt with disappointment. 'You didn't watch?' he said faintly, looking from one to the other. 'But Ron, we didn't want to leave - we had to!' 'Yeah?' said Ron, whose face was growing rather red. 'How come?' 'It was Hagrid,' said Harry. 'He decided to tell us why he's been covered in injuries ever since he got back from the giants. He wanted us to go into the Forest with him, we had no choice, you know how he gets. Anyway..." The story was told in five minutes, by the end of which Ron's indignation had been replaced by a look of total incredulity. 'He brought one back and hid it in the Forest?' 'Yep,' said Harry grimly. 'No,' said Ron, as though by saying this he could make it untrue. '

Grawps about sixteen feet tall, enjoys ripping up twenty-foot pine trees, and knows me,' she snorted, 'as Hermy.' Ron gave a nervous laugh. 'And Hagrid wants us to...?' Teach him English, yeah,' said Harry. 'He's lost his mind,' said Ron in an almost awed voice. 'Yes, I'm starting to think he has. But, unfortunately, he made Harry and me promise.' 'Well, you're just going to have to break your promise, that's all,' said Ron firmly. 'I mean, come on... we've got exams and we're about that far -'he held up his hand to show thumb and forefinger almost touching '- from being chucked out as it is. And anyway... remember Norbert? Remember Aragog? Ron smoothed his hair flat again, looking preoccupied. 'Well,' he sighed, 'Hagrid hasn't been sacked yet, has he? He's hung on this long, maybe he'll hang on till the end of term and we won't have to go near Grawp at all.' * The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake; the satin green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze. June had arrived, but to the fifth-years this meant only one thing: their OWLs were upon them at last. Their teachers were no longer setting them homework; lessons were devoted to revising those topics the teachers thought most likely to come up in the exams. The purposeful, feverish atmosphere drove nearly everything but the OWLs from Harry's mind, though he did wonder occasionally during Potions lessons whether Lupin had ever told Snape that he must continue giving Harry Ooclumency tuition. If he had, then Snape had ignored Lupin as thoroughly as he was now ignoring Harry. She was not the only person acting oddly as the OWLs drew steadily nearer. Ernie Macmillan had developed an irritating habit of interrogating people about their revision practices. 'How

rawps about sixteen feet tall, enjoys ripping up twenty-foot pine trees, and knows me,' she snorted, 'as Hermy.' Ron gave a nervous laugh. 'And Hagrid wants us to...?' Teach him English, yeah,' said Harry. 'He's lost his mind,' said Ron in an almost awed voice. 'Yes, I'm starting to think he has. But, unfortunately, he made Harry and me promise.' 'Well, you're just going to have to break your promise, that's all,' said Ron firmly. 'I mean, come on... we've got exams and we're about that far -'he held up his hand to show thumb and forefinger almost touching '- from being chucked out as it is. And anyway... remember Norbert? Remember Aragog? Ron smoothed his hair flat again, looking preoccupied. 'Well,' he sighed, 'Hagrid hasn't been sacked yet, has he? He's hung on this long, maybe he'll hang on till the end of term and we won't have to go near Grawp at all.' * The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake; the satin green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze. June had arrived, but to the fifth-years this meant only one thing: their OWLs were upon them at last. Their teachers were no longer setting them homework; lessons were devoted to revising those topics the teachers thought most likely to come up in the exams. The purposeful, feverish atmosphere drove nearly everything but the OWLs from Harry's mind, though he did wonder occasionally during Potions lessons whether Lupin had ever told Snape that he must continue giving Harry Ooclumency tuition. If he had, then Snape had ignored Lupin as thoroughly as he was now ignoring Harry. She was not the only person acting oddly as the OWLs drew steadily nearer. Ernie Macmillan had developed an irritating habit of interrogating people about their revision practices. 'How

many hours d'you think you're doing a day?' he demanded of Harry and Ron as they queued outside Herbology, a manic gleam in his eyes. 'I dunno,' said Ron. 'A few.' 'More or less than eight?' 'Less, I s'pose,' said Ron, looking slightly alarmed. 'I'm doing eight,' said Ernie, puffing out his chest. 'Eight or nine. I'm getting an hour in before breakfast every day. Eights my average. I can do ten on a good weekend day. I did nine and a half on Monday. Not so good on Tuesday - only seven and a quarter. Then on Wednesday - ' Harry was deeply thankful that Professor Sprout ushered them into greenhouse three at that point, forcing Ernie to abandon his recital. Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy had found a different way to induce panic. 'Of course, it's not what you know,' he was heard to tell Crabbe and Goyle loudly outside Potions a few days before the exams were to start, 'it's who you know. Now, Father's been friendly with the head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority for years - old Griselda Marchbanks - we've had her round for dinner and everthing.. 'Nothing we can do about it if it is,' said Ron gloomily. 'I don't think it's true,' said Neville quietly from behind them. 'Is she strict?' 'Bit like Gran, really,' said Neville in a subdued voice. 'Knowing her won't hurt your chances, though, will it?' Ron told him encouragingly. 'Oh, I don't think it will make any difference,' said Neville, still more miserably. 'Gran's always telling Professor Marchbanks I'm not as good as my dad... well... you saw what she's like at St Mungo's Neville looked fixedly at the floor. Harry, Ron glanced at each other, but didn't know what to say. It was the first time Neville had acknowledged that they had met at the wizarding hospital.

hours d'you think you're doing a day?' he demanded of Harry and Ron as they queued outside Herbology, a manic gleam in his eyes. 'I dunno,' said Ron. 'A few.' 'More or less than eight?' 'Less, I s'pose,' said Ron, looking slightly alarmed. 'I'm doing eight,' said Ernie, puffing out his chest. 'Eight or nine. I'm getting an hour in before breakfast every day. Eights my average. I can do ten on a good weekend day. I did nine and a half on Monday. Not so good on Tuesday - only seven and a quarter. Then on Wednesday - ' Harry was deeply thankful that Professor Sprout ushered them into greenhouse three at that point, forcing Ernie to abandon his recital. Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy had found a different way to induce panic. 'Of course, it's not what you know,' he was heard to tell Crabbe and Goyle loudly outside Potions a few days before the exams were to start, 'it's who you know. Now, Father's been friendly with the head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority for years - old Griselda Marchbanks - we've had her round for dinner and everthing.. 'Nothing we can do about it if it is,' said Ron gloomily. 'I don't think it's true,' said Neville quietly from behind them. 'Is she strict?' 'Bit like Gran, really,' said Neville in a subdued voice. 'Knowing her won't hurt your chances, though, will it?' Ron told him encouragingly. 'Oh, I don't think it will make any difference,' said Neville, still more miserably. 'Gran's always telling Professor Marchbanks I'm not as good as my dad... well... you saw what she's like at St Mungo's Neville looked fixedly at the floor. Harry, Ron glanced at each other, but didn't know what to say. It was the first time Neville had acknowledged that they had met at the wizarding hospital.

Meanwhile, a flourishing black-market trade in aids to concentration, mental agility and wakefulness had sprung up among the fifth- and seventh-years. Harry and Ron were much tempted by the bottle of Baruffio's Brain Elixir offered to them by Ravenclaw sixth-year Eddie Carmichael, who swore it was solely responsible for the nine 'Outstanding' OWLs he had gained the previous summer and was offering a whole pint for a mere twelve Galleons. 'Don't be stupid,' she snarled. 'You might as well take Harold Dingle's powdered dragon claw and have done with it.' 'Dingle's got powdered dragon claw?' said Ron eagerly. 'I confiscated that, too. None of these things actually work, you know.' 'Dragon claw does work!' said Ron. 'I've had a look at it, and it's actually dried Doxy droppings.' This information took the edge off Harry and Ron's desire for brain stimulants. They received their examination timetables and details of the procedure for OWLs during their next Transfiguration lesson. 'As you can see,' Professor McGonagall told the class as they copied down the dates and times of their exams from the blackboard, 'your OWLs are spread over two successive weeks. You will sit the theory papers in the mornings and the practice in the afternoons. Your practical Astronomy examination will, of course, take place at night. 'Now, I must warn you that the most stringent anti-cheating charms have been applied to your examination papers. Auto-Answer Quills are banned from the examination hall, as are Remembralls, Detachable Cribbing Cuffs and Self-Correcting Ink. Every year, I am afraid to say, seems to harbour at least one student who thinks that he or she can get around the Wizarding Examinations Authority's rules. I can only hope that it is nobody in Gryffindor. Our new - Headmistress -'Professor McGonagall pronounced the word with the same look on her face that A

Meanwhile, a flourishing black-market trade in aids to concentration, mental agility and wakefulness had sprung up among the fifth- and seventh-years. Harry and Ron were much tempted by the bottle of Baruffio's Brain Elixir offered to them by Ravenclaw sixth-year Eddie Carmichael, who swore it was solely responsible for the nine 'Outstanding' OWLs he had gained the previous summer and was offering a whole pint for a mere twelve Galleons. 'Don't be stupid,' she snarled. 'You might as well take Harold Dingle's powdered dragon claw and have done with it.' 'Dingle's got powdered dragon claw?' said Ron eagerly. 'I confiscated that, too. None of these things actually work, you know.' 'Dragon claw does work!' said Ron. 'I've had a look at it, and it's actually dried Doxy droppings.' This information took the edge off Harry and Ron's desire for brain stimulants. They received their examination timetables and details of the procedure for OWLs during their next Transfiguration lesson. 'As you can see,' Professor McGonagall told the class as they copied down the dates and times of their exams from the blackboard, 'your OWLs are spread over two successive weeks. You will sit the theory papers in the mornings and the practice in the afternoons. Your practical Astronomy examination will, of course, take place at night. 'Now, I must warn you that the most stringent anti-cheating charms have been applied to your examination papers. Auto-Answer Quills are banned from the examination hall, as are Remembralls, Detachable Cribbing Cuffs and Self-Correcting Ink. Every year, I am afraid to say, seems to harbour at least one student who thinks that he or she can get around the Wizarding Examinations Authority's rules. I can only hope that it is nobody in Gryffindor. Our new - Headmistress -'Professor McGonagall pronounced the word with the same look on her face that A

unt Petunia had whenever she was contemplating a particularly stubborn bit of dirt '- has asked the Heads of House to tell their students that cheating will be punished most severely - because, of course, your examination results will reflect upon the Headmistress's new regime at the school - ' Professor McGonagall gave a tiny sigh; Harry saw the nostrils of her sharp nose flare. '- however, that is no reason not to do your very best. 'Excellent,' said Dean Thomas in an audible whisper,'so we don't have to worry about it till the holidays.' Harry imagined sitting in his bedroom in Privet Drive in six weeks' time, waiting for his OWL results. Well, he thought dully', at least he would be sure of one bit of post that summer. Their first examination, Theory of Charms, was scheduled for Monday morning. 'Why don't you just do it yourself?' he said firmly, handing the book back to her, his eyes watering. Meanwhile, Ron was reading two years' worth of Charms notes with his fingers in his ears, his lips moving soundlessly; Seamus Finnigan was lying flat on his back on the floor, reciting the definition of a Substantive Charm while Dean checked it against The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5; and Parvati and Lavender, who were practising basic Locomotion Charms, were making their pencil-cases race each other around the edge of the table. Dinner was a subdued affair that night. Harry and Ron did not talk much, but ate with gusto, having studied hard all day. Ron was just telling her that she ought to eat a decent meal or she would not sleep that night, when her fork slid from her limp fingers and landed with a loud tinkle on her plate. 'Oh, my goodness,' she said faintly, staring into the Entrance Hall. 'Is that them? Is that the examiners?' Harry and Ron whipped around on their bench. Through the doors to the Great Hall they could see Umbridge standing with a small group of ancient-looking witches and wizards. Umbridge, Harry was pleased to see, looked rather

Petunia had whenever she was contemplating a particularly stubborn bit of dirt '- has asked the Heads of House to tell their students that cheating will be punished most severely - because, of course, your examination results will reflect upon the Headmistress's new regime at the school - ' Professor McGonagall gave a tiny sigh; Harry saw the nostrils of her sharp nose flare. '- however, that is no reason not to do your very best. 'Excellent,' said Dean Thomas in an audible whisper,'so we don't have to worry about it till the holidays.' Harry imagined sitting in his bedroom in Privet Drive in six weeks' time, waiting for his OWL results. Well, he thought dully', at least he would be sure of one bit of post that summer. Their first examination, Theory of Charms, was scheduled for Monday morning. 'Why don't you just do it yourself?' he said firmly, handing the book back to her, his eyes watering. Meanwhile, Ron was reading two years' worth of Charms notes with his fingers in his ears, his lips moving soundlessly; Seamus Finnigan was lying flat on his back on the floor, reciting the definition of a Substantive Charm while Dean checked it against The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5; and Parvati and Lavender, who were practising basic Locomotion Charms, were making their pencil-cases race each other around the edge of the table. Dinner was a subdued affair that night. Harry and Ron did not talk much, but ate with gusto, having studied hard all day. Ron was just telling her that she ought to eat a decent meal or she would not sleep that night, when her fork slid from her limp fingers and landed with a loud tinkle on her plate. 'Oh, my goodness,' she said faintly, staring into the Entrance Hall. 'Is that them? Is that the examiners?' Harry and Ron whipped around on their bench. Through the doors to the Great Hall they could see Umbridge standing with a small group of ancient-looking witches and wizards. Umbridge, Harry was pleased to see, looked rather

nervous. 'Shall we go and have a closer look?' said Ron. Harry thought Professor Marchbanks must be the tiny, stooped witch with a face so lined it looked as though it had been draped in cobwebs; Umbridge was speaking to her deferentially. Professor Marchbanks seemed to be a little deaf; she was answering Professor Umbridge very loudly considering they were only a foot apart. 'Journey was fine, journey was fine, we've made it plenty of times before!' she said impatiently. 'Now, I haven't heard from Dumbledore lately!' she added, peering around the Hall as though hopeful he might suddenly emerge from a broom cupboard. 'No idea where he is, I suppose?' 'None at all,' said Umbridge, shooting a malevolent look at Harry, Ron, who were now dawdling around the foot of the stairs as Ron pretended to do up his shoelace. 'But I daresay the Ministry of Magic will track him down soon enough.' 'I doubt it,' shouted tiny Professor Marchbanks, 'not it Dumbledore doesn't want to be found! I should know... examined him personally in Transfiguration and Charms when he did NEWTs... did things with a wand I'd never seen before.' 'Yes... well...' said Professor Umbridge as Harry, Ron dragged their feet up the marble staircase as slowly as they dared, 'let me show you to the staff room. I daresay you'd like a cup of tea after your journey.' It was an uncomfortable sort of an evening. Everyone was trying to do some last-minute revising but nobody seemed to be getting very far. Harry went to bed early but then lay awake for what felt like hours. He remembered his careers consultation and McGonagall's furious declaration that she would help him become an Auror if it was the last thing she did. He wished he had expressed a more achievable ambition now that exam time was here. He knew he was not the only one lying awake, but none of the others in the dormitory spoke and finally, one by one, they fell asleep. Once breakfast was over

ous. 'Shall we go and have a closer look?' said Ron. Harry thought Professor Marchbanks must be the tiny, stooped witch with a face so lined it looked as though it had been draped in cobwebs; Umbridge was speaking to her deferentially. Professor Marchbanks seemed to be a little deaf; she was answering Professor Umbridge very loudly considering they were only a foot apart. 'Journey was fine, journey was fine, we've made it plenty of times before!' she said impatiently. 'Now, I haven't heard from Dumbledore lately!' she added, peering around the Hall as though hopeful he might suddenly emerge from a broom cupboard. 'No idea where he is, I suppose?' 'None at all,' said Umbridge, shooting a malevolent look at Harry, Ron, who were now dawdling around the foot of the stairs as Ron pretended to do up his shoelace. 'But I daresay the Ministry of Magic will track him down soon enough.' 'I doubt it,' shouted tiny Professor Marchbanks, 'not it Dumbledore doesn't want to be found! I should know... examined him personally in Transfiguration and Charms when he did NEWTs... did things with a wand I'd never seen before.' 'Yes... well...' said Professor Umbridge as Harry, Ron dragged their feet up the marble staircase as slowly as they dared, 'let me show you to the staff room. I daresay you'd like a cup of tea after your journey.' It was an uncomfortable sort of an evening. Everyone was trying to do some last-minute revising but nobody seemed to be getting very far. Harry went to bed early but then lay awake for what felt like hours. He remembered his careers consultation and McGonagall's furious declaration that she would help him become an Auror if it was the last thing she did. He wished he had expressed a more achievable ambition now that exam time was here. He knew he was not the only one lying awake, but none of the others in the dormitory spoke and finally, one by one, they fell asleep. Once breakfast was over

, the fifth- and seventh-years milled around in the Entrance Hall while the other students went off to lessons; then, at half past nine, they were called forwards class by class to re-enter the Great Hall, which had been rearranged exactly as Harry had seen it in the Pensieve when his father, Sirius and Snape had been taking their OWLs; the four house tables had been removed and replaced instead with many tables for one, all facing the staff-table end of the Hall where Professor McGonagall stood facing them. When they were all seated and quiet, she said, 'You may begin,' and turned over an enormous hour-glass on the desk beside her, on which there were also spare quills, ink bottles and rolls of parchment. Harry had a fleeting memory of a club soaring high into the air and landing loudly on the thick skull of a troll... smiling slightly, he bent over the paper and began to write. 'I'm not sure I did myself justice on Cheering Charms, I just ran out of time. Did you put in the counter-charm for hiccoughs?.. we're not going through every exam afterwards, it's bad enough doing them once.' The fifth-years ate lunch with the rest of the school (the four house tables had reappeared for the lunch hour), then they trooped off into the small chamber beside the Great Hall, where they were to wait until called for their practical examination. As small groups of students were called forwards in alphabetical order, those left behind muttered incantations and practised wand movements, occasionally poking each other in the back or eye by mistake. Trembling, she kit the chamber with Anthony Goldstein, Gregory Goyle and Daphne Greengrass. 'She'll be fine, remember she got a hundred and twelve per cent on one of our Charms tests?' said Ron. Ten minutes later, Professor Flitwick called, 'Parkinson, Pansy - Patil, Padma - Patil, Parvati - Potter. Harry.' 'Good luck,' said Ron quietly. Harry walked into the Great Hall, clutching his wand so tightly his hand shook. 'Professor Tofty

the fifth- and seventh-years milled around in the Entrance Hall while the other students went off to lessons; then, at half past nine, they were called forwards class by class to re-enter the Great Hall, which had been rearranged exactly as Harry had seen it in the Pensieve when his father, Sirius and Snape had been taking their OWLs; the four house tables had been removed and replaced instead with many tables for one, all facing the staff-table end of the Hall where Professor McGonagall stood facing them. When they were all seated and quiet, she said, 'You may begin,' and turned over an enormous hour-glass on the desk beside her, on which there were also spare quills, ink bottles and rolls of parchment. Harry had a fleeting memory of a club soaring high into the air and landing loudly on the thick skull of a troll... smiling slightly, he bent over the paper and began to write. 'I'm not sure I did myself justice on Cheering Charms, I just ran out of time. Did you put in the counter-charm for hiccoughs?.. we're not going through every exam afterwards, it's bad enough doing them once.' The fifth-years ate lunch with the rest of the school (the four house tables had reappeared for the lunch hour), then they trooped off into the small chamber beside the Great Hall, where they were to wait until called for their practical examination. As small groups of students were called forwards in alphabetical order, those left behind muttered incantations and practised wand movements, occasionally poking each other in the back or eye by mistake. Trembling, she kit the chamber with Anthony Goldstein, Gregory Goyle and Daphne Greengrass. 'She'll be fine, remember she got a hundred and twelve per cent on one of our Charms tests?' said Ron. Ten minutes later, Professor Flitwick called, 'Parkinson, Pansy - Patil, Padma - Patil, Parvati - Potter. Harry.' 'Good luck,' said Ron quietly. Harry walked into the Great Hall, clutching his wand so tightly his hand shook. 'Professor Tofty

is free, Potter,' squeaked Professor Flitwick, who was standing just inside the door. He pointed Harry towards what looked like the very oldest and baldest examiner who was sitting behind a small table in a far corner, a short distance from Professor Marchbanks, who was halfway through testing Draco Malfoy. 'Potter, is it?' said Professor Tofty, consulting his notes and peering over his pince-nez at Harry as he approached. 'The famous Potter?' Out of the corner of his eye, Harry distinctly saw Malfoy throw a scathing look over at him; the wine-glass Malfoy had been levitating fell to the floor and smashed. Harry could not suppress a grin; Professor Tofty smiled back at him encouragingly. That's it,' he said in his quavery old voice, 'no need to be nervous. Now, if I could ask you to take this egg cup and make it do some cartwheels for me.' On the whole, Harry thought it went rather well. His Levitation Charm was certainly much better than Malfoy's had been, though he wished he had not mixed up the incantations for Colour Change and Growth Charms, so that the rat he was supposed to be turning orange swelled shockingly and was the size of a badger before Harry could rectify his mistake. He could tell Ron, though; Ron had caused a dinner plate to mutate into a large mushroom and had no idea how it had happened. There was no time to relax that night; they went straight to the common room after dinner and submerged themselves in revision for Transfiguration next day; Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with complex spell models and theories. He forgot the definition of a Switching Spell during his written paper next morning but thought his practical could have been a lot worse. At least he managed to Vanish the whole of his iguana, whereas poor Hannah Abbott lost her head completely at the next table and somehow managed to multiply her ferret into a flock of flamingos, causing the examination to be halted for ten minute; while the birds were captured and carried out of the Hall. They had their Herbology exam on Wednesday (other than a small bite from a Fanged Geran

free, Potter,' squeaked Professor Flitwick, who was standing just inside the door. He pointed Harry towards what looked like the very oldest and baldest examiner who was sitting behind a small table in a far corner, a short distance from Professor Marchbanks, who was halfway through testing Draco Malfoy. 'Potter, is it?' said Professor Tofty, consulting his notes and peering over his pince-nez at Harry as he approached. 'The famous Potter?' Out of the corner of his eye, Harry distinctly saw Malfoy throw a scathing look over at him; the wine-glass Malfoy had been levitating fell to the floor and smashed. Harry could not suppress a grin; Professor Tofty smiled back at him encouragingly. That's it,' he said in his quavery old voice, 'no need to be nervous. Now, if I could ask you to take this egg cup and make it do some cartwheels for me.' On the whole, Harry thought it went rather well. His Levitation Charm was certainly much better than Malfoy's had been, though he wished he had not mixed up the incantations for Colour Change and Growth Charms, so that the rat he was supposed to be turning orange swelled shockingly and was the size of a badger before Harry could rectify his mistake. He could tell Ron, though; Ron had caused a dinner plate to mutate into a large mushroom and had no idea how it had happened. There was no time to relax that night; they went straight to the common room after dinner and submerged themselves in revision for Transfiguration next day; Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with complex spell models and theories. He forgot the definition of a Switching Spell during his written paper next morning but thought his practical could have been a lot worse. At least he managed to Vanish the whole of his iguana, whereas poor Hannah Abbott lost her head completely at the next table and somehow managed to multiply her ferret into a flock of flamingos, causing the examination to be halted for ten minute; while the birds were captured and carried out of the Hall. They had their Herbology exam on Wednesday (other than a small bite from a Fanged Geran

ium, Harry felt he had done reasonably well); and then, on Thursday, Deience Against the Dark Arts. Here, tor the first time, Harry felt sure he had passed. He had no problem with any of the written questions and took particular pleasure, during the practical examination, in performing all the counter-jinxes and defensive spells right in front of Umbridge, who was watching coolly from near the doors into the Entrance Hall. 'Oh, bravo!' cried Professor Tolty, who was examining Harry again, when Harry demonstrated a perfect Boggart banishing spell. 'Very good indeed! Well, I think that's all, Potter... unless...' He leaned forwards a little. 'I heard, from my dear friend Tiberius Ogden, that you can produce a Patronus? For a bonus point...?' Harry raised his wand, looked directly at Umbridge and imagined her being sacked. 'Expecto patronum!' His silver stag erupted from the end of his wand and cantered the length of the Hall. All of the examiners looked around to watch its progress and when it dissolved into silver mist Professor Tofty clapped his veined and knotted hands enthusiastically. 'Excellent!' he said. 'Very well, Potter, you may go!' As Harry passed Umbridge beside the door, their eyes met. There was a nasty smile playing around her wide, slack mouth, but he did not care. Unless he was very much mistaken (and he was not planning on telling anybody, in case he was), he had just achieved an 'Outstanding' OWL. They stretched and yawned beside the open window, through which warm summer air was wafting as they played wizard chess. Harry could see Hagrid in the distance, teaching a class on the edge of the Forest. 'How were the Runes?' said Ron, yawning and stretching. 'It could be the one mistake that makes the difference between a pass and a fail. And what's more, someone's put another Nifiler in Umbridge's office. I don't know how they got it through that new door, but I just walked past there and Umbridge is shrieking her head off -

, Harry felt he had done reasonably well); and then, on Thursday, Deience Against the Dark Arts. Here, tor the first time, Harry felt sure he had passed. He had no problem with any of the written questions and took particular pleasure, during the practical examination, in performing all the counter-jinxes and defensive spells right in front of Umbridge, who was watching coolly from near the doors into the Entrance Hall. 'Oh, bravo!' cried Professor Tolty, who was examining Harry again, when Harry demonstrated a perfect Boggart banishing spell. 'Very good indeed! Well, I think that's all, Potter... unless...' He leaned forwards a little. 'I heard, from my dear friend Tiberius Ogden, that you can produce a Patronus? For a bonus point...?' Harry raised his wand, looked directly at Umbridge and imagined her being sacked. 'Expecto patronum!' His silver stag erupted from the end of his wand and cantered the length of the Hall. All of the examiners looked around to watch its progress and when it dissolved into silver mist Professor Tofty clapped his veined and knotted hands enthusiastically. 'Excellent!' he said. 'Very well, Potter, you may go!' As Harry passed Umbridge beside the door, their eyes met. There was a nasty smile playing around her wide, slack mouth, but he did not care. Unless he was very much mistaken (and he was not planning on telling anybody, in case he was), he had just achieved an 'Outstanding' OWL. They stretched and yawned beside the open window, through which warm summer air was wafting as they played wizard chess. Harry could see Hagrid in the distance, teaching a class on the edge of the Forest. 'How were the Runes?' said Ron, yawning and stretching. 'It could be the one mistake that makes the difference between a pass and a fail. And what's more, someone's put another Nifiler in Umbridge's office. I don't know how they got it through that new door, but I just walked past there and Umbridge is shrieking her head off -

by the sound of it, it tried to take a chunk out of her leg - ' 'Good,' said Harry and Ron together. 'She thinks it's Hagrid doing it, remember? And we do not want Hagrid chucked out!' 'He's teaching at the moment; she can't blame him,' said Harry, gesturing out of the window. 'Oh, you're so naive sometimes, Harry. 'Such a lovely, sweet-tempered girl,' said Ron, very quietly, prodding his queen forward to beat up one of Harry's knights. Sure enough, he found the written paper difficult, though he thought he might have got full marks on the question about Polyjuice Potion; he could describe its effects accurately, having taken it illegally in his second year. The afternoon practical was not as dreadful as he had expected, it to be. With Snape absent from the proceedings, he found that he was much more relaxed than he usually was while making potions. Neville, who was sitting very near Harry, also looked happier than Harry had ever seen him during a Potions class. When Professor Marchbanks said, 'Step away from your cauldrons, please, the examination is over,' Harry corked his sample flask feeling that he might not have achieved a good grade but he had, with luck, avoided a fail. 'Only four exams left,' said Parvati Patil wearily as they headed back to Gryffindor common room. 'I've got Arithmancy and it's probably the toughest subject there is!' Nobody was foolish enough to snap back, so she was unable to vent her spleen on any of them and was reduced to telling off some first-years for giggling too loudly in the common room. Harry was determined to perform well in Tuesday's Care of Magical Creatures exam so as not to let Hagrid down. The practical examination took place in the afternoon on the lawn on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where students were required to correctly identify the Knarl hidden among a dozen hedgehogs (the trick was to offer them all milk in turn: Knarls, highly suspicious creatures whose quills had many magical properties,

the sound of it, it tried to take a chunk out of her leg - ' 'Good,' said Harry and Ron together. 'She thinks it's Hagrid doing it, remember? And we do not want Hagrid chucked out!' 'He's teaching at the moment; she can't blame him,' said Harry, gesturing out of the window. 'Oh, you're so naive sometimes, Harry. 'Such a lovely, sweet-tempered girl,' said Ron, very quietly, prodding his queen forward to beat up one of Harry's knights. Sure enough, he found the written paper difficult, though he thought he might have got full marks on the question about Polyjuice Potion; he could describe its effects accurately, having taken it illegally in his second year. The afternoon practical was not as dreadful as he had expected, it to be. With Snape absent from the proceedings, he found that he was much more relaxed than he usually was while making potions. Neville, who was sitting very near Harry, also looked happier than Harry had ever seen him during a Potions class. When Professor Marchbanks said, 'Step away from your cauldrons, please, the examination is over,' Harry corked his sample flask feeling that he might not have achieved a good grade but he had, with luck, avoided a fail. 'Only four exams left,' said Parvati Patil wearily as they headed back to Gryffindor common room. 'I've got Arithmancy and it's probably the toughest subject there is!' Nobody was foolish enough to snap back, so she was unable to vent her spleen on any of them and was reduced to telling off some first-years for giggling too loudly in the common room. Harry was determined to perform well in Tuesday's Care of Magical Creatures exam so as not to let Hagrid down. The practical examination took place in the afternoon on the lawn on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where students were required to correctly identify the Knarl hidden among a dozen hedgehogs (the trick was to offer them all milk in turn: Knarls, highly suspicious creatures whose quills had many magical properties,

generally went berserk at what they saw as an attempt to poison them); then demonstrate correct handling of a Bowtruckle; feed and clean out a Fire Crab without sustaining serious burns; and choose, from a wide selection of food, the diet they would give a sick unicorn. Harry could see Hagrid watching anxiously out of his cabin window. When Harry's examiner, a plump little witch this time, smiled at him and told him he could leave, Harry gave Hagrid a fleeting thumbs-up before heading back to the castle. The Astronomy theory paper on Wednesday morning went well enough. Harry was not convinced he had got the names of all Jupiter's moons right, but was at least confident that none of them was inhabited by mice. They had to wait until evening for their practical Astronomy; the afternoon was devoted instead to Divination. Even by Harry's low standards in Divination, the exam went very badly. He might as well have tried to see moving pictures on the desktop as in the stubbornly blank crystal ball; he lost his head completely during tea-leaf reading, saying it looked to him as though Professor Marchbanks would shortly be meeting a round, dark, soggy stranger, and rounded off the whole fiasco by mixing up the life and head lines on her palm and informing her that she ought to have died the previous Tuesday. 'Well, we were always going to fail that one,' said Ron gloomily as they ascended the marble staircase. He had just made Harry feel rather better by telling him how he had told the examiner in detail about the ugly man with a wart on his nose in his crystal ball, only to look up and realise he had been describing his examiner's reflection. 'We shouldn't have taken the stupid subject in the first place,' said Harry. 'Still, at least we can give it up now.' 'Yeah,' said Harry. He stopped laughing at once, in case it annoyed her. 'Well, I think I've done all right in Arithmancy,' she said, and Harry and Ron both sighed with relief. 'Just time for a quick look over our star-charts before dinner, then...' When they reached the top of the Astronomy

went berserk at what they saw as an attempt to poison them); then demonstrate correct handling of a Bowtruckle; feed and clean out a Fire Crab without sustaining serious burns; and choose, from a wide selection of food, the diet they would give a sick unicorn. Harry could see Hagrid watching anxiously out of his cabin window. When Harry's examiner, a plump little witch this time, smiled at him and told him he could leave, Harry gave Hagrid a fleeting thumbs-up before heading back to the castle. The Astronomy theory paper on Wednesday morning went well enough. Harry was not convinced he had got the names of all Jupiter's moons right, but was at least confident that none of them was inhabited by mice. They had to wait until evening for their practical Astronomy; the afternoon was devoted instead to Divination. Even by Harry's low standards in Divination, the exam went very badly. He might as well have tried to see moving pictures on the desktop as in the stubbornly blank crystal ball; he lost his head completely during tea-leaf reading, saying it looked to him as though Professor Marchbanks would shortly be meeting a round, dark, soggy stranger, and rounded off the whole fiasco by mixing up the life and head lines on her palm and informing her that she ought to have died the previous Tuesday. 'Well, we were always going to fail that one,' said Ron gloomily as they ascended the marble staircase. He had just made Harry feel rather better by telling him how he had told the examiner in detail about the ugly man with a wart on his nose in his crystal ball, only to look up and realise he had been describing his examiner's reflection. 'We shouldn't have taken the stupid subject in the first place,' said Harry. 'Still, at least we can give it up now.' 'Yeah,' said Harry. He stopped laughing at once, in case it annoyed her. 'Well, I think I've done all right in Arithmancy,' she said, and Harry and Ron both sighed with relief. 'Just time for a quick look over our star-charts before dinner, then...' When they reached the top of the Astronomy

Tower at eleven o'clock, they found a perfect night for stargazing, cloudless and still. The grounds were bathed in silvery moonlight and there was a slight chill in the air. Each of them set up his or her telescope and, when Professor Marchbanks gave the word, proceeded to fill in the blank star-chart they had been given. Professors Marchbanks and Tofty strolled among them, watching as they entered the precise positions of the stars and planets the) were observing. All was quiet except for the rustle of parchment, the occasional creak of a telescope as it was adjusted on its stand, and the scribbling of many quills. Half an hour passed, then ar hour; the little squares of reflected gold light flickering on the: ground below started to vanish as lights in the castle windows were extinguished. As Harry completed the constellation Orion on his chart, however, the front doors of the castle opened directly below the parapet where he was standing, so that light spilled down the stone steps a little way across the lawn. Harry glanced down as he made a slight adjustment to the position of his telescope and saw five or six elongated shadows moving over the brightly lit grass before the doors swung shut and the lawn became a sea of darkness once more. Harry put his eye back to his telescope and refocused it, now examining Venus. He looked down at his chart to enter the planet there, but something distracted him; pausing with his quill suspended over the parchment, he squinted down into the shadowy grounds and saw half a dozen figures walking over the lawn. If they had not been moving, and the moonlight had not been gilding the tops of their heads, they would have been indistinguishable from the dark ground on which they walked. Even at this distance, Harry had a funny feeling he recognised the walk of the squattest of them, who seemed to be leading the group. He could not think why Umbridge would be taking a stroll outside after midnight, much less accompanied by five others. Then somebody coughed behind him, and he remembered that he was halfway through an exam. He had quite forgotten Venus's position. Jamming his eye to his

at eleven o'clock, they found a perfect night for stargazing, cloudless and still. The grounds were bathed in silvery moonlight and there was a slight chill in the air. Each of them set up his or her telescope and, when Professor Marchbanks gave the word, proceeded to fill in the blank star-chart they had been given. Professors Marchbanks and Tofty strolled among them, watching as they entered the precise positions of the stars and planets the) were observing. All was quiet except for the rustle of parchment, the occasional creak of a telescope as it was adjusted on its stand, and the scribbling of many quills. Half an hour passed, then ar hour; the little squares of reflected gold light flickering on the: ground below started to vanish as lights in the castle windows were extinguished. As Harry completed the constellation Orion on his chart, however, the front doors of the castle opened directly below the parapet where he was standing, so that light spilled down the stone steps a little way across the lawn. Harry glanced down as he made a slight adjustment to the position of his telescope and saw five or six elongated shadows moving over the brightly lit grass before the doors swung shut and the lawn became a sea of darkness once more. Harry put his eye back to his telescope and refocused it, now examining Venus. He looked down at his chart to enter the planet there, but something distracted him; pausing with his quill suspended over the parchment, he squinted down into the shadowy grounds and saw half a dozen figures walking over the lawn. If they had not been moving, and the moonlight had not been gilding the tops of their heads, they would have been indistinguishable from the dark ground on which they walked. Even at this distance, Harry had a funny feeling he recognised the walk of the squattest of them, who seemed to be leading the group. He could not think why Umbridge would be taking a stroll outside after midnight, much less accompanied by five others. Then somebody coughed behind him, and he remembered that he was halfway through an exam. He had quite forgotten Venus's position. Jamming his eye to his

telescope, he found it again and was once more about to enter it on his chart when, alert for any odd sound, he heard a distant knock which echoed through the deserted grounds, followed immediately by the muffled barking of a large dog. He looked up, his heart hammering. There were lights on in Hagrids windows and the people he had observed crossing the lawn were now silhouetted against them. The door opened and he distinctly saw six sharply defined figures walk over the threshold. The door closed again and there was silence. Harry felt very uneasy. Figures were now moving across the cabin windows, temporarily blocking the light. He could feel Professor Marchbanks's eyes on the back of his neck and pressed his eye again to his telescope, staring up at the moon though he had marked its position an hour ago, but as Professor Marchbanks moved on he heard a roar from the distant cabin that echoed through the darkness right to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Several of the people around Harry ducked out from behind their telescopes and peered instead in the direction of Hagrid's cabin. Professor Tofty gave another dry little cough. Try and concentrate, now, boys and girls,' he said softly. Most people returned to their telescopes. Harry looked to his left. 'Ahem - twenty minutes to go,' said Professor Tofty. He bent to correct it. There was a loud BANG from the grounds. Several people cried 'Ouch!' when they poked themselves in the face with the ends of their telescopes as they hastened to see what was going on below. Hagrid's door had burst open and by the light flooding out of the cabin they saw him quite clearly, a massive figure roaring and brandishing his fists, surrounded by six people, all of whom, judging by the tiny threads of red light they were casting in his direction, seemed to be attempting to Stun him. 'My dear!' said Professor Tofty in a scandalised voice. This is an examination!' But nobody was paying the slightest attention to their star-charts any more. Jets of red light were still flying about beside Hagrid's cabin, yet somehow they seemed to be bouncing off him; he was still upright and

cope, he found it again and was once more about to enter it on his chart when, alert for any odd sound, he heard a distant knock which echoed through the deserted grounds, followed immediately by the muffled barking of a large dog. He looked up, his heart hammering. There were lights on in Hagrids windows and the people he had observed crossing the lawn were now silhouetted against them. The door opened and he distinctly saw six sharply defined figures walk over the threshold. The door closed again and there was silence. Harry felt very uneasy. Figures were now moving across the cabin windows, temporarily blocking the light. He could feel Professor Marchbanks's eyes on the back of his neck and pressed his eye again to his telescope, staring up at the moon though he had marked its position an hour ago, but as Professor Marchbanks moved on he heard a roar from the distant cabin that echoed through the darkness right to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Several of the people around Harry ducked out from behind their telescopes and peered instead in the direction of Hagrid's cabin. Professor Tofty gave another dry little cough. Try and concentrate, now, boys and girls,' he said softly. Most people returned to their telescopes. Harry looked to his left. 'Ahem - twenty minutes to go,' said Professor Tofty. He bent to correct it. There was a loud BANG from the grounds. Several people cried 'Ouch!' when they poked themselves in the face with the ends of their telescopes as they hastened to see what was going on below. Hagrid's door had burst open and by the light flooding out of the cabin they saw him quite clearly, a massive figure roaring and brandishing his fists, surrounded by six people, all of whom, judging by the tiny threads of red light they were casting in his direction, seemed to be attempting to Stun him. 'My dear!' said Professor Tofty in a scandalised voice. This is an examination!' But nobody was paying the slightest attention to their star-charts any more. Jets of red light were still flying about beside Hagrid's cabin, yet somehow they seemed to be bouncing off him; he was still upright and

still, as far as Harry could see, fighting. Cries and yells echoed across the grounds; a man yelled, 'Be reasonable, Hagrid!' Hagrid roared, 'Reasonable be damned, yeh won' take me like this, Dawlish!' Harry could see the tiny outline of Fang, attempting to defend Hagrid, leaping repeatedly at the wizards surrounding him until a Stunning Spell caught him and he fell to the ground. Hagrid gave a howl of fury, lifted the culprit bodily from the ground and threw him; the man flew what looked like ten feet and did not get up again. None of them had ever seen Hagrid in a real temper before. 'Look!' squealed Parvati, who was leaning over the parapet and pointing to the foot of the castle where the front doors had opened again; more light was spilling out on to the dark lawn and a single long black shadow was now rippling across the lawn. 'Now, really!' said Professor Tofty anxiously. 'Only sixteen minutes left, you know!' But nobody paid him the slightest attention: they were watching the person now sprinting towards the battle beside Hagrid's cabin. 'How dare you!' the figure shouted as she ran. 'Leave him alone! Alone, I say!' said Professor McGonagall's voice through the darkness. 'On what grounds are you attacking him? The figures around the cabin had shot no fewer than lour Stunners at Professor McGonagall. Halfway between cabin and castle the red beams collided with her; for a moment she looked luminous and glowed an eerie red, then she lifted right off her feet, landed hard on her back, and moved no more. 'Galloping gargoyles!' shouted Professor Tofty, who also seemed to have forgotten the exam completely. 'Not so much as a warning! Outrageous behaviour!' 'COWARDS!' bellowed Hagrid; his voice carried clearly to the top of the tower, and several lights flickered back on inside the castle. 'RUDDY COWARDS! Hagrid took two massive swipes at his closest attackers; judging by their immediate collapse,

, as far as Harry could see, fighting. Cries and yells echoed across the grounds; a man yelled, 'Be reasonable, Hagrid!' Hagrid roared, 'Reasonable be damned, yeh won' take me like this, Dawlish!' Harry could see the tiny outline of Fang, attempting to defend Hagrid, leaping repeatedly at the wizards surrounding him until a Stunning Spell caught him and he fell to the ground. Hagrid gave a howl of fury, lifted the culprit bodily from the ground and threw him; the man flew what looked like ten feet and did not get up again. None of them had ever seen Hagrid in a real temper before. 'Look!' squealed Parvati, who was leaning over the parapet and pointing to the foot of the castle where the front doors had opened again; more light was spilling out on to the dark lawn and a single long black shadow was now rippling across the lawn. 'Now, really!' said Professor Tofty anxiously. 'Only sixteen minutes left, you know!' But nobody paid him the slightest attention: they were watching the person now sprinting towards the battle beside Hagrid's cabin. 'How dare you!' the figure shouted as she ran. 'Leave him alone! Alone, I say!' said Professor McGonagall's voice through the darkness. 'On what grounds are you attacking him? The figures around the cabin had shot no fewer than lour Stunners at Professor McGonagall. Halfway between cabin and castle the red beams collided with her; for a moment she looked luminous and glowed an eerie red, then she lifted right off her feet, landed hard on her back, and moved no more. 'Galloping gargoyles!' shouted Professor Tofty, who also seemed to have forgotten the exam completely. 'Not so much as a warning! Outrageous behaviour!' 'COWARDS!' bellowed Hagrid; his voice carried clearly to the top of the tower, and several lights flickered back on inside the castle. 'RUDDY COWARDS! Hagrid took two massive swipes at his closest attackers; judging by their immediate collapse,

they had been knocked cold. Harry saw Hagrid double over, and thought he had finally been overcome by a spell. But, on the contrary, next moment Hagrid was standing again with what appeared to be a sack on his back - then Harry realised that bangs limp body was draped around his shoulders. 'Get him, get him!' screamed Umbridge, but her remaining helper seemed highly reluctant to go within reach of Hagrid's fists; indeed, he was backing away so fast he tripped over one of his unconscious colleagues and fell over. Hagrid had turned and begun to run with Fang still hung around his neck. Umbridge sent one last Stunning Spell after him but it missed; and Hagrid, running full-pelt towards the distant gates, disappeared into the darkness. There was a long minute's quivering silence as everybody gazed open-mouthed into the grounds. Then Professor Tofty's voice said feebly, 'Um... five minutes to go, everybody.' Though he had only filled in two-thirds of his chart, Harry was desperate for the exam to end. When it came at last he, Ron forced their telescopes haphazardly back into their holders and dashed back down the spiral staircase. None of the students were going to bed; they were all talking loudly and excitedly at the foot of the stairs about what they had witnessed. Trying to sneak up on Hagrid in the dead of night!' 'She clearly wanted to avoid another scene like Trelawney's,' said Ernie Macmillan sagely, squeezing over to join them. 'Hagrid did well, didn't he?' said Ron, who looked more alarmed than impressed. 'Its very hard to Stun a giant, they're like trolls, really tough... but poor Professor McGonagall... four Stunners straight in the chest and she's net exactly young, is she?' 'Dreadful, dreadful,' said Ernie, shaking his head pompously. 'Well, I'm off to bed. Night, all.' People around them were drifting away, still talking excitedly about what they had just seen

had been knocked cold. Harry saw Hagrid double over, and thought he had finally been overcome by a spell. But, on the contrary, next moment Hagrid was standing again with what appeared to be a sack on his back - then Harry realised that bangs limp body was draped around his shoulders. 'Get him, get him!' screamed Umbridge, but her remaining helper seemed highly reluctant to go within reach of Hagrid's fists; indeed, he was backing away so fast he tripped over one of his unconscious colleagues and fell over. Hagrid had turned and begun to run with Fang still hung around his neck. Umbridge sent one last Stunning Spell after him but it missed; and Hagrid, running full-pelt towards the distant gates, disappeared into the darkness. There was a long minute's quivering silence as everybody gazed open-mouthed into the grounds. Then Professor Tofty's voice said feebly, 'Um... five minutes to go, everybody.' Though he had only filled in two-thirds of his chart, Harry was desperate for the exam to end. When it came at last he, Ron forced their telescopes haphazardly back into their holders and dashed back down the spiral staircase. None of the students were going to bed; they were all talking loudly and excitedly at the foot of the stairs about what they had witnessed. Trying to sneak up on Hagrid in the dead of night!' 'She clearly wanted to avoid another scene like Trelawney's,' said Ernie Macmillan sagely, squeezing over to join them. 'Hagrid did well, didn't he?' said Ron, who looked more alarmed than impressed. 'Its very hard to Stun a giant, they're like trolls, really tough... but poor Professor McGonagall... four Stunners straight in the chest and she's net exactly young, is she?' 'Dreadful, dreadful,' said Ernie, shaking his head pompously. 'Well, I'm off to bed. Night, all.' People around them were drifting away, still talking excitedly about what they had just seen

. 'At least they didn't get to take Hagrid off to Azkaban,' said Ron. 'Oh, this is awful, I really thought Dumbledore would be back before long, but now we've lost Hagrid too.' They traipsed back to the Gryffindor common room to find it full. The commotion out in the grounds had woken several people, who had hastened to rouse their friends. Seamus and Dean, who had arrived ahead of Harry, Ron, were now telling everyone what they had seen and heard from the top of the Astronomy Tower. 'But why sack Hagrid now?' asked Angelina Johnson, shaking her head. 'She was always going to try and get Hagrid out.' 'And she thought Hagrid was putting Nifflers in her office,' piped up Katie Bell. 'Oh, blimey,' said Lee Jordan, covering his mouth. 'It's me who's been putting the Nifflers in her office. Fred and George left me a couple; I've been levitating them in through her window.' 'She'd have sacked him anyway,' said Dean. 'I just hope Professor McGonagall's all right,' said Lavender tearfully. They carried her back up to the castle, we watched through the dormitory window,' said Colin Creevey. 'She didn't look very well.' 'Madam Pomfrey will sort her out,' said Alicia Spinnet firmly. 'She's never failed yet.' It was nearly four in the morning before the common room cleared. Harry felt wide awake; the image of Hagrid sprinting away into the dark was haunting him; he was so angry with Umbridge he could not think of a punishment bad enough for her, though Ron's suggestion of having her fed to a box of starving Blast-Ended Skrewts had its merits. He fell asleep contemplating hideous revenges and arose from bed three hours later feeling distinctly unrested. Their final exam, History of Magic, was not to take place until that afternoon. The fifth-years entered the Great Hall at two o'clock and took their places in front of their face-down examination

'At least they didn't get to take Hagrid off to Azkaban,' said Ron. 'Oh, this is awful, I really thought Dumbledore would be back before long, but now we've lost Hagrid too.' They traipsed back to the Gryffindor common room to find it full. The commotion out in the grounds had woken several people, who had hastened to rouse their friends. Seamus and Dean, who had arrived ahead of Harry, Ron, were now telling everyone what they had seen and heard from the top of the Astronomy Tower. 'But why sack Hagrid now?' asked Angelina Johnson, shaking her head. 'She was always going to try and get Hagrid out.' 'And she thought Hagrid was putting Nifflers in her office,' piped up Katie Bell. 'Oh, blimey,' said Lee Jordan, covering his mouth. 'It's me who's been putting the Nifflers in her office. Fred and George left me a couple; I've been levitating them in through her window.' 'She'd have sacked him anyway,' said Dean. 'I just hope Professor McGonagall's all right,' said Lavender tearfully. They carried her back up to the castle, we watched through the dormitory window,' said Colin Creevey. 'She didn't look very well.' 'Madam Pomfrey will sort her out,' said Alicia Spinnet firmly. 'She's never failed yet.' It was nearly four in the morning before the common room cleared. Harry felt wide awake; the image of Hagrid sprinting away into the dark was haunting him; he was so angry with Umbridge he could not think of a punishment bad enough for her, though Ron's suggestion of having her fed to a box of starving Blast-Ended Skrewts had its merits. He fell asleep contemplating hideous revenges and arose from bed three hours later feeling distinctly unrested. Their final exam, History of Magic, was not to take place until that afternoon. The fifth-years entered the Great Hall at two o'clock and took their places in front of their face-down examination

papers. Harry felt exhausted. He just wanted this to be over, so that he could go and sleep; then tomorrow, he and Ron were going to go down to the Quidditch pitch - he was going to have a fly on Ron's broom - and savour their freedom from revision. Turn over your papers,' said Professor Marchbanks from the front of the Hall, flicking over the giant hour-glass. 'You may begin ' Harry stared fixedly at the first question. It was several seconds before it occurred to him that he had not taken in a word of it; there was a wasp buzzing distractingly against one of the high windows. Slowly, tortuously, he at last began to write an answer. He was finding it very difficult to remember names and kept confusing dates. He simply skipped question four (In your opinion, did wand legislation contribute to, or lead to better control of, goblin riots of the eighteenth century?), thinking that he would go back to it if he had time at the end. He had a stab at question five (How was the Statute of Secrecy breached in 1749 and what measures were introduced to prevent a recurrence?) but had a nagging suspicion that he had missed several important points; he had a feeling vampires had come into the story somewhere. He looked ahead for a question he could definitely answer and his eyes alighted upon number ten: Describe the circumstances that led to the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards and explain why the warlocks of Liechtenstein refused to join. I know this, Harry thought, though his brain felt torpid and slack... he had read those notes only this morning. He began to write, looking up now and again to check the large hour-glass on the desk beside Professor Marchbanks. He was sitting right behind Parvati Patil, whose long dark hair fell below the back of her chair. Once or twice he found himself staring at the tiny golden lights that glistened in it when she moved her head slightly, and had to give his own head a little shake to clear it. ... the first Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards was Pierre Bonaccord, hut his appointment was contested by the wizarding community

. Harry felt exhausted. He just wanted this to be over, so that he could go and sleep; then tomorrow, he and Ron were going to go down to the Quidditch pitch - he was going to have a fly on Ron's broom - and savour their freedom from revision. Turn over your papers,' said Professor Marchbanks from the front of the Hall, flicking over the giant hour-glass. 'You may begin ' Harry stared fixedly at the first question. It was several seconds before it occurred to him that he had not taken in a word of it; there was a wasp buzzing distractingly against one of the high windows. Slowly, tortuously, he at last began to write an answer. He was finding it very difficult to remember names and kept confusing dates. He simply skipped question four (In your opinion, did wand legislation contribute to, or lead to better control of, goblin riots of the eighteenth century?), thinking that he would go back to it if he had time at the end. He had a stab at question five (How was the Statute of Secrecy breached in 1749 and what measures were introduced to prevent a recurrence?) but had a nagging suspicion that he had missed several important points; he had a feeling vampires had come into the story somewhere. He looked ahead for a question he could definitely answer and his eyes alighted upon number ten: Describe the circumstances that led to the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards and explain why the warlocks of Liechtenstein refused to join. I know this, Harry thought, though his brain felt torpid and slack... he had read those notes only this morning. He began to write, looking up now and again to check the large hour-glass on the desk beside Professor Marchbanks. He was sitting right behind Parvati Patil, whose long dark hair fell below the back of her chair. Once or twice he found himself staring at the tiny golden lights that glistened in it when she moved her head slightly, and had to give his own head a little shake to clear it. ... the first Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards was Pierre Bonaccord, hut his appointment was contested by the wizarding community

of Liechtenstein, because - ' All around Harry quills were scratching on parchment like scurrying, burrowing rats. The sun was very hot on the back of his head. What was it that Bonaccord had done to offend the wizards of Liechtenstein? Harry had a feeling it had something to do with trolls... he gazed blankly at the back of Parvati's head again. If he could only perform Legilimency and open a window in the back of her head and see what it was about trolls that had caused the breach between Pierre Bonaccord and Liechtenstein... Harry closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands, so that the glowing red of his eyelids grew dark and cool. Bonaccord had wanted to stop troll-hunting and give the trolls rights... but Liechtenstein was having problems with a tribe of particularly vicious mountain trolls... that was it. He opened his eyes; they stung and watered at the sight of the blazing white parchment. Slowly, he wrote two lines about the foils, then read through what he had done so far. He closed his eyes again, trying to see them, trying to remember... the Confederation had met for the first time in France, yes, he had written that already... Goblins had tried to attend and been ousted... he had written that, too... And nobody from Liechtenstein had wanted to come... Think, he told himself, his face in his hands, while all around him quills scratched out never-ending answers and the sand trickled through the hour-glass at the front... He was walking along the cool, dark corridor to the Department of Mysteries again, walking with a firm and purposeful tread, breaking occasionally into a run, determined to reach his destination at last... the black door swung open for him as usual, and here he was in the circular room with its many doors... Straight across the stone floor and through the second door... patches of dancing light on the walls and floor and that odd mechanical clicking, but no time to explore, he must hurry... He

Liechtenstein, because - ' All around Harry quills were scratching on parchment like scurrying, burrowing rats. The sun was very hot on the back of his head. What was it that Bonaccord had done to offend the wizards of Liechtenstein? Harry had a feeling it had something to do with trolls... he gazed blankly at the back of Parvati's head again. If he could only perform Legilimency and open a window in the back of her head and see what it was about trolls that had caused the breach between Pierre Bonaccord and Liechtenstein... Harry closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands, so that the glowing red of his eyelids grew dark and cool. Bonaccord had wanted to stop troll-hunting and give the trolls rights... but Liechtenstein was having problems with a tribe of particularly vicious mountain trolls... that was it. He opened his eyes; they stung and watered at the sight of the blazing white parchment. Slowly, he wrote two lines about the foils, then read through what he had done so far. He closed his eyes again, trying to see them, trying to remember... the Confederation had met for the first time in France, yes, he had written that already... Goblins had tried to attend and been ousted... he had written that, too... And nobody from Liechtenstein had wanted to come... Think, he told himself, his face in his hands, while all around him quills scratched out never-ending answers and the sand trickled through the hour-glass at the front... He was walking along the cool, dark corridor to the Department of Mysteries again, walking with a firm and purposeful tread, breaking occasionally into a run, determined to reach his destination at last... the black door swung open for him as usual, and here he was in the circular room with its many doors... Straight across the stone floor and through the second door... patches of dancing light on the walls and floor and that odd mechanical clicking, but no time to explore, he must hurry... He

jogged the last few feet to the third door, which swung open just like the others... Once again he was in the cathedral-sized room full of shelves and glass spheres... his heart was beating very fast now... he was going to get there this time... when he reached number ninety-seven he turned left and hurried along the aisle between two rows... But there was a shape on the floor at the very end, a black shape moving on the floor like a wounded animal... Harry's stomach contracted with fear... with excitement... A voice issued from his own mouth, a high, cold voice empty of any human kindness... 'Take it for me... lift it down, now... I cannot touch it... but you can...' The black shape on the floor shifted a little. Harry saw a long-fingered white hand clutching a wand rise at the end of his own arm... heard the high, cold voice say 'Crucio!' The man on the floor let out a scream of pain, attempted to stand but fell back, writhing. Harry was laughing. He raised his wand, the curse lifted and the figure groaned and became motionless. 'Lord Voldemort is waiting...' Very slowly, his arms trembling, the man on the ground raised his shoulders a few inches and lifted his head. His face was bloodstained and gaunt, twisted in pain yet rigid with defiance... 'You'll have to kill me,' whispered Sirius. 'Undoubtedly I shall in the end,' said the cold voice. 'But you will fetch it for me first, Black... you think you have felt pain thus far? Think again... we have hours ahead of us and nobody to hear you scream...' But somebody screamed as Voldemort lowered his wand again; somebody yelled and fell sideways off a hot desk on to the cold stone floor; Harry awoke as he hit the ground, still yelling, his scar on fire, as the Great Hall erupted all around him. - CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO -

ged the last few feet to the third door, which swung open just like the others... Once again he was in the cathedral-sized room full of shelves and glass spheres... his heart was beating very fast now... he was going to get there this time... when he reached number ninety-seven he turned left and hurried along the aisle between two rows... But there was a shape on the floor at the very end, a black shape moving on the floor like a wounded animal... Harry's stomach contracted with fear... with excitement... A voice issued from his own mouth, a high, cold voice empty of any human kindness... 'Take it for me... lift it down, now... I cannot touch it... but you can...' The black shape on the floor shifted a little. Harry saw a long-fingered white hand clutching a wand rise at the end of his own arm... heard the high, cold voice say 'Crucio!' The man on the floor let out a scream of pain, attempted to stand but fell back, writhing. Harry was laughing. He raised his wand, the curse lifted and the figure groaned and became motionless. 'Lord Voldemort is waiting...' Very slowly, his arms trembling, the man on the ground raised his shoulders a few inches and lifted his head. His face was bloodstained and gaunt, twisted in pain yet rigid with defiance... 'You'll have to kill me,' whispered Sirius. 'Undoubtedly I shall in the end,' said the cold voice. 'But you will fetch it for me first, Black... you think you have felt pain thus far? Think again... we have hours ahead of us and nobody to hear you scream...' But somebody screamed as Voldemort lowered his wand again; somebody yelled and fell sideways off a hot desk on to the cold stone floor; Harry awoke as he hit the ground, still yelling, his scar on fire, as the Great Hall erupted all around him. - CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO -

Out of the Fire 'I'm not going... I don't need the hospital wing... I don't want...' He was gibbering as he tried to pull away from Professor Tofty, who was looking at Harry with much concern after helping him out into the Entrance Hall with the students all around them staring. I'm - I'm fine, sir,' Harry stammered, wiping the sweat from his face. 'Really... I just fell asleep... had a nightmare...' 'Pressure of examinations!' said the old wizard sympathetically, patting Harry shakily on the shoulder. 'It happens, young man, it happens! Now, a cooling drink of water, and perhaps you will be ready to return to the Great Hall? The examination is nearly over, but you may be able to round off your last answer nicely?' 'Yes,' said Harry wildly. 'I mean... no... I've done - done z.s much as I can, I think..." 'Very well, very well,' said the old wizard gently. 'I shall go and collect your examination paper and I suggest that you go and have a nice lie down.' 'I'll do that,' said Harry, nodding vigorously. 'Thanks very much.' The second that the old man's heels disappeared over the threshold into the Great Hall, Harry ran up the marble staircase, hurtled along the corridors so fast the portraits he passed muttered reproaches, up more flights of stairs, and finally burst like a hurricane through the double doors of the hospital wing, causing Madam Pomfrey - who had been spooning some bright blue liquid into Montagues open mouth - to shriek in alarm. 'Potter, what do you think you're doing?' 'I need to see Professor McGonagall,' gasped Harry, the breath tearing his lungs. 'Now... it's urgent!' 'She's not here, Potter,' said Madam Pomfrey sadly. 'She was transferred to St Mungo's this morning. Four Stunning Sp

of the Fire 'I'm not going... I don't need the hospital wing... I don't want...' He was gibbering as he tried to pull away from Professor Tofty, who was looking at Harry with much concern after helping him out into the Entrance Hall with the students all around them staring. I'm - I'm fine, sir,' Harry stammered, wiping the sweat from his face. 'Really... I just fell asleep... had a nightmare...' 'Pressure of examinations!' said the old wizard sympathetically, patting Harry shakily on the shoulder. 'It happens, young man, it happens! Now, a cooling drink of water, and perhaps you will be ready to return to the Great Hall? The examination is nearly over, but you may be able to round off your last answer nicely?' 'Yes,' said Harry wildly. 'I mean... no... I've done - done z.s much as I can, I think..." 'Very well, very well,' said the old wizard gently. 'I shall go and collect your examination paper and I suggest that you go and have a nice lie down.' 'I'll do that,' said Harry, nodding vigorously. 'Thanks very much.' The second that the old man's heels disappeared over the threshold into the Great Hall, Harry ran up the marble staircase, hurtled along the corridors so fast the portraits he passed muttered reproaches, up more flights of stairs, and finally burst like a hurricane through the double doors of the hospital wing, causing Madam Pomfrey - who had been spooning some bright blue liquid into Montagues open mouth - to shriek in alarm. 'Potter, what do you think you're doing?' 'I need to see Professor McGonagall,' gasped Harry, the breath tearing his lungs. 'Now... it's urgent!' 'She's not here, Potter,' said Madam Pomfrey sadly. 'She was transferred to St Mungo's this morning. Four Stunning Sp