Seamus dressed at top speed next morning and left the dormitory before Harry had even put on his socks.

‘Does he think he'll turn into a nutter if he stays in a room with me too long?’ asked Harry loudly as the hem of Seamus's robes wnipped out of sight.

‘Don't worry about it, Harry,’ Dean muttered, hoisting his schoolbag on to his shoulder, ‘he's just ...’

But apparently he was unable to say exactly what Seamus was, and after a slightly awkward pause followed him out of the room.

Neville and Ron both gave Harry an it's-his-problem-not-yours look, but Harry was not much consoled. How much more of this would he have to take?

‘What's the matter?’ asked Hermione five minutes later, catching up with Harry and Ron halfway across the common room as they all headed towards breakfast. ‘You look absolutely—Oh for heavens sake.’

She was staring at the common-room noticeboard, where a large new sign had been put up.

GALLONS OF GALLEONS!

Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings?

Like to earn a little extra gold?

Contact Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor common room,

for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs.

(We regret that all work is undertaken at applicant's own risk.)

‘They are the limit,’ said Hermione grimly, taking down the sign, which Fred and George had pinned up ewer a poster giving the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend, which was to be in October. ‘We'll have to talk to them, Ron.’

Ron looked positively alarmed.

‘Why?’

‘Because we're prefects!’ said Hermione, as they climbed out through the portrait hole. ‘It's up to us to stop this kind of thing!’

Ron said nothing; Harry could tell from his glum expression that the prospect of stopping Fred and George doing exactly what they liked was not one he found inviting.

‘Anyway, what's up, Harry?’ Hermione continued, as they walked down a flight of stairs lined with portraits of old witches and wizards, all of whom ignored them, being engrossed in their own conversation. ‘You look really angry about something.’

‘Seamus reckons Harry's lying about You-Know-Who,’ said Ron succinctly, when Harry did not respond.

Hermione, who Harry had expected to react angrily on his behalf, sighed.

‘Yes, Lavender thinks so too,’ she said gloomily.

‘Been having a nice little chat with her about whether or not I'm a lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?’ Harry said loudly.

‘No,’ said Hermione calmly. ‘I told her to keep her big fat mouth shut about you, actually. And it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down our throats, Harry, because in case you haven't noticed, Ron and I are on your side.’

There was a short pause.

‘Sorry,’ said Harry in a low voice.

‘That's quite all right,’ said Hermione with dignity. Then she shook her head. ‘Don't you remember what Dumbledore said at the last end-of-term feast?’

Harry and Ron both looked at her blankly and Hermione sighed again.

‘About You-Know-Who. He said his “gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust—” ’

‘How do you remember stuff like that?’ asked Ron, looking at her in admiration.

‘I listen, Ron,’ said Hermione, with a touch of asperity.

‘So do I, but I still couldn't tell you exactly what—’

‘The point,’ Hermione pressed on loudly, ‘is that this sort of thing is exactly what Dumbledore was talking about. You-Know-Who's only been back two months and we've already started fighting among ourselves. And the Sorting Hat's warning was the same: stand together, be united—’

‘And Harry got it right last night,’ retorted Ron. ‘If that means we're supposed to get matey with the Slytherins—fat chance.’

‘Well, I think it's a pity we're not trying for a bit of inter-house unity,’ said Hermione crossly.

They had reached the foot of the marble staircase. A line of fourth-year Ravenclaws was crossing the Entrance Hall; they caught sight of Harry and hurried to form a tighter group, as though frightened he might attack stragglers.

‘Yeah, we really ought to be trying to make friends with people like that,’ said Harry sarcastically.

They followed the Ravenclaws into the Great Hall, all looking instinctively at the staff table as they entered. Professor Grubbly-Plank was chatting to Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, and Hagrid was once again conspicuous only by his absence. The enchanted ceiling above them echoed Harry's mood; it was a miserable rain-cloud grey.

‘Dumbledore didn't even mention how long that Grubbly-Plank woman's staying,’ he said, as they made their way across to the Gryffindor table.

‘Maybe ...’ said Hermione thoughtfully.

‘What?’ said both Harry and Ron together.

‘Well ... maybe he didn't want to draw attention to Hagrid not being here.’

‘What d'you mean, draw attention to it?’ said Ron, half-laughing. ‘How could we not notice?’

Before Hermione could answer, a tall black girl with long braided hair had marched up to Harry.

‘Hi, Angelina.’

‘Hi,’ she said briskly, ‘good summer?’ And without waiting for an answer, ‘Listen, I've been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain.’

‘Nice one,’ said Harry, grinning at her; he suspected Angelina's pep talks might not be as long-winded as Oliver Wood's had been, which could only be an improvement.

‘Yeah, well, we need a new Keeper now Oliver's left. Tryouts are on Friday at five o'clock and I want the whole team there, all right? Then we can see how the new person'll fit in.’

‘OK,’ said Harry.

Angelina smiled at him and departed.

‘I'd forgotten Wood had left,’ said Hermione vaguely as she sat down beside Ron and pulled a plate of toast towards her. ‘I suppose that will make quite a difference to the team?’

‘I s'pose,’ said Harry, taking the bench opposite. ‘He was a good Keeper ...’

‘Still, it won't hurt to have some new blood, will it?’ said Ron.

With a whoosh and a clatter, hundreds of owls came soaring in through the upper windows. They descended all over the Hall, bringing letters and packages to their owners and showering the breakfasters with droplets of water; it was clearly raining hard outside. Hedwig was nowhere to be seen, but Harry was hardly surprised; his only correspondent was Sirius, and he doubted Sirius would have anything new to tell him after only twenty-four hours apart. Hermione, however, had to move her orange juice aside quickly to make way gor a large damp barn owl bearing a sodden Daily Prophet in its beak.

‘What are you still getting that for?’ said Harry irritably, thinking of Seamus as Hermione placed a Knut in the leather pouch on the owl's leg and it took off again. ‘I'm not bothering ... load of rubbish.’

‘It's best to know what the enemy is saying,’ said Hermione darkly, and she unfurled the newspaper and disappeared behind it, not emerging until Harry and Ron had finished eating.

‘Nothing,’ she said simply, rolling up the newspaper and laying it down by her plate. ‘Nothing about you or Dumbledore or anything.’

Professor McGonagall was now moving along the table handing out timetables.

‘Look at today!’ groaned Ron. ‘History of Magic, double Potions, Divination and double Defence Against the Dark Arts ... Binns, Snape, Trelawney and that Umbridge woman all in one day! I wish Fred and George'd hurry up and get those Skiving Snackboxes sorted ...’

‘Do mine ears deceive me?’ said Fred, arriving with George and squeezing on to the bench beside Harry. ‘Hogwarts prefects surely don't wish to skive off lessons?’

‘Look what we've got today,’ said Ron grumpily, shoving his timetable under Fred's nose. ‘That's the worst Monday I've ever seen.’

‘Fair point, little bro,’ said Fred, scanning the column. ‘You can have a bit of Nosebleed Nougat cheap if you like.’

‘Why's it cheap?’ said Ron suspiciously.

‘Because you'll keep bleeding till you shrivel up, we haven't got an antidote yet,’ said George, helping himself to a kipper.

‘Cheers,’ said Ron moodily, pocketing his timetable, ‘but I think I'll take the lessons.’

‘And speaking of your Skiving Snackboxes,’ said Hermione, eyeing Fred and George beadily, ‘you can't advertise for testers on the Gryffindor noticeboard.’

‘Says who?’ said George, looking astonished.

‘Says me,’ said Hermione. ‘And Ron.’

‘Leave me out of it,’ said Ron hastily.

Hermione glared at him. Fred and George sniggered.

‘You'll be singing a different tune soon enough, Hermione,’ said Fred, thickly buttering a crumpet. ‘You're starting your fifth year, you'll be begging us for a Snackbox before long.’

‘And why would starting fifth year mean I want a Skiving Snackbox?’ asked Hermione.

‘Fifth year's OWL year,’ said George.

‘So?’

‘So you've got your exams coming up, haven't you? They'll be keeping your noses so hard to that grindstone they'll be rubbed raw,’ said Fred with satisfaction.

‘Half our year had minor breakdowns coming up to OWLs,’ said George happily. ‘Tears and tantrums ... Patricia Stimpson kept coming over faint ...’

‘Kenneth Towler came out in boils, d'you remember?’ said Fred remmiscently.

‘That's ‘cause you put Bulbadox powder in his pyjamas,’ said George.

‘Oh yeah,’ said Fred, grinning. ‘I'd forgotten ... hard to keep track sometimes, isn't it?’

‘Anyway, it's a nightmare of a year, the fifth,’ said George. ‘If you care about exam results, anyway. Fred and I managed to keep our peckers up somehow.’

‘Yeah ... you got, what was it, three OWLs each?’ said Ron.

‘Yep,’ said Fred unconcernedly. ‘But we feel our futures lie outside the world of academic achievement.’

‘We seriously debated whether we were going to bother coming back for our seventh year,’ said George brightly, ‘now that we've got—’

He broke off at a warning look from Harry, who knew George had been about to mention the Triwizard winnings he had given them.

‘—now that we've got our OWLs,’ George said hastily. ‘I mean, do we really need NEWTs? But we didn't think Mum could take us leaving school early not on top of Percy turning out to be the world's biggest prat.’

‘We're not going to waste our last year here, though,’ said Fred, looking affectionately around at the Great Hall. ‘We're going to use it to do a bit of market research, find out exactly what the average Hogwarts student requires from a joke shop, carefully evaluate the results of our research, then produce products to fit the demand.’

‘But where are you going to get the gold to start a joke shop?’ Hermione asked sceptically. ‘You're going to need all the ingredients and materials—and premises too, I suppose ...’

Harry did not look at the twins. His face felt hot; he deliberately dropped his fork and dived down to retrieve it. He heard Fred say overhead, ‘Ask us no questions and we'll tell you no lies, Hermione. C'mon, George, if we get there early we might be able to sell a few Extendable Ears before Herbology.’

Harry emerged from under the table to see Fred and George walking away, each carrying a stack of toast.

‘What did that mean?’ said Hermione, looking from Harry to Ron. ‘"Ask us no questions ...” Does that mean they've already got some gold to start a joke shop?’

‘You know, I've been wondering about that,’ said Ron, his brow furrowed. ‘They bought me a new set of dress robes this summer and I couldn't understand where they got the Galleons ...’

Harry decided it was time to steer the conversation out of these dangerous waters.

‘D'you reckon it's true this year's going to be really tough? Because of the exams?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Ron. ‘Bound to be, isn't it? OWLs are really important, affect the jobs you can apply for and everything. We get career advice, too, later this year, Bill told me. So you can choose what NEWTs you want to do next year.’

‘D'you know what you want to do after Hogwarts?’ Harry asked the other two, as they left the Great Hall shortly afterwards and set off towards their History of Magic classroom.

‘Not really,’ said Ron slowly. ‘Except ... well ...’

He looked slightly sheepish.

‘What?’ Harry urged him.

‘Well, it'd be cool to be an Auror,’ said Ron in an off-hand voice.

‘Yeah, it would,’ said Harry fervently.

‘But they're, like, the elite,’ said Ron. ‘You've got to be really good. What about you, Hermione?’

‘I don't know,’ she said. ‘I think I'd like to do something really worthwhile.’

‘An Auror's worthwhile!’ said Harry.

‘Yes, it is, but it's not the only worthwhile thing,’ said Hermione thoughtfully, ‘I mean, if I could take SPEW further ...’

Harry and Ron carefully avoided looking at each other.

History of Magic was by common consent the most boring subject ever devised by wizardkind. Professor Binns, their ghost teacher, had a wheezy, droning voice that was almost guaranteed to cause severe drowsiness within ten minutes, five in warm weather. He never varied the form of their lessons, but lectured them without pausing while they took notes, or rather, gazed sleepily into space. Harry and Ron had so far managed to scrape passes in this subject only by copying Hermione's notes before exams; she alone seemed able to resist the soporific power of Binns's voice.

Today, they suffered an hour and a half's droning on the subject of giant wars. Harry heard just enough within the first ten minutes to appreciate dimly that in another teacher's hands this subject might have been mildly interesting, but then his brain disengaged, and he spent the remaining hour and twenty minutes playing hangman on a corner of his parchment with Ron, while Hermione shot them filthy looks out of the corner of her eye.

‘How would it be,’ she asked them coldly, as they left the classroom for break (Binns drifting away through the blackboard), ‘if I refused to lend you my notes this year?’

‘We'd fail our OWL, said Ron. ‘If you want that on your conscience, Hermione ...’

‘Well, you'd deserve it,’ she snapped. ‘You don't even try to listen to him, do you?’

‘We do try,’ said Ron. ‘We just haven't got your brains or your memory or your concentration— you're just cleverer than we are—is it nice to rub it in?’

‘Oh, don't give me that rubbish,’ said Hermione, but she looked slightly mollified as she led the way out into the damp courtyard.

A fine misty drizzle was falling, so that the people standing in huddles around the edges of the yard looked blurred at the edges. Harry, Ron and Hermione chose a secluded corner under a heavily dripping balcony, turning up the collars of their robes against the chilly September air and talking about what Snape was likely to set them in the first lesson of the year. They had got as far as agreeing that it was likely to be something extremely difficult, just to catch them off guard after a two-month holiday, when someone walked around the corner towards them.

‘Hello, Harry!’

It was Cho Chang and, what was more, she was on her own again. This was most unusual: Cho was almost always surrounded by a gang of giggling girls; Harry remembered the agony of trying to get her by herself to ask her to the Yule Ball.

‘Hi,’ said Harry, feeling his face grow hot. At least you're not covered in Stinksap this time, he told himself. Cho seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

‘You got that stuff off, then?’

‘Yeah,’ said Harry, trying to grin as though the memory of their last meeting was funny as opposed to mortifying. ‘So, did you ... er ... have a good summer?’

The moment he had said this he wished he hadn't—Cedric had been Cho's boyfriend and the memory of his death must have affected her holiday almost as badly as it had affected Harry's. Something seemed to tauten in her face, but she said, ‘Oh, it was all right, you know ...’

‘Is that a Tornados badge?’ Ron demanded suddenly, pointing to the front of Cho's robes, where a sky-blue badge emblazoned with a double gold ‘T’ was pinned. ‘You don't support them, do you?’

‘Yeah, I do,’ said Cho.

‘Have you always supported them, or just since they started winning the league?’ said Ron, in what Harry considered an unnecessarily accusatory tone of voice.

‘I've supported them since I was six,’ said Cho coolly. ‘Anyway ... see you, Harry.’

She walked away. Hermione waited until Cho was halfway across the courtyard before rounding on Ron.

‘You are so tactless!’

‘What? I only asked her if—’

‘Couldn't you tell she wanted to talk to Harry on her own?’

‘So? She could've done, I wasn't stopping—’

‘Why on earth were you attacking her about her Quidditch team?’

‘Attacking? I wasn't attacking her, I was only—’

‘Who cares if she supports the Tornados?’

‘Oh, come on, half the people you see wearing those badges only bought them last season—’

‘But what does it matter?’

‘It means they're not real fans, they're just jumping on the bandwagon—’

‘That's the bell,’ said Harry dully, because Ron and Hermione were bickering too loudly to hear it. They did not stop arguing all the way down to Snapes dungeon, which gave Harry plenty of time to reflect that between Neville and Ron he would be lucky ever to have two minutes of conversation with Cho that he could look back on without wanting to leave the country.

And yet, he thought, as they joined the queue lining up outside Snape's classroom door, she had chosen to come and talk to him, hadn't she? She had been Cedric's girlfriend; she could easily have hated Harry for coming out of the Triwizard maze alive when Cedric had died, yet she was talking to him in a perfectly friendly way, not as though she thought him mad, or a liar, or in some horrible way responsible for Cedric's death ... yes, she had definitely chosen to come and talk to him, and that made the second time in two days ... and at this thought, Harry's spirits rose. Even the ominous sound of Snape's dungeon door creaking open did not puncture the small, hopeful bubble that seemed to have swelled in his chest. He filed into the classroom behind Ron and Hermione and followed them to their usual table at the back, where he sat down between Ron and Hermione and ignored the huffy, irritable noises now issuing from both of them.

‘Settle down,’ said Snape coldly, shutting the door behind him.

There was no real need for the call to order; the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. Snape's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class's silence.

‘Before we begin today's lesson,’ said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, ‘I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an “Acceptable” in your OWL, or suffer my ... displeasure.’

His gaze lingered this time on Neville, who gulped.

‘After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me,’ Snape went on. ‘I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye.’

His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled. Harry glared back, feeling a grim pleasure at the idea that he would be able to give up Potions after fifth year.

‘But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell,’ said Snape softly, ‘so, whether or not you are intending to attempt NEWT, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students.

‘Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing.’ On Harry's left, Hermione sat up a little straighter, her expression one of utmost attention. The ingredients and method—’ Snape flicked his wand ‘—are on the blackboard—(they appeared there) ‘—you will find everything you need—’ he flicked his wand again ‘—in the store cupboard—’ (the door of the said cupboard sprang open) ‘—you have an hour and a half ... start.’

Just as Harry, Ron and Hermione had predicted, Snape could hardly have set them a more difficult, fiddly potion. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in anti-clockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added.

‘A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion,’ called Snape, with ten minutes left to go.

Harry, who was sweating profusely, looked desperately around the dungeon. His own cauldron was issuing copious amounts of dark grey steam; Ron's was spitting green sparks. Seamus was feverishly prodding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they seemed to be going out. The surface of Hermione's potion, however, was a shimmering mist of silver vapour, and as Snape swept by he looked down his hooked nose at it without comment, which meant he could find nothing to criticise.

At Harry's cauldron, however, Snape stopped, and looked down at it with a horrible smirk on his face.

‘Potter, what is this supposed to be?’

The Slytherins at the front of the class all looked up eagerly; they loved hearing Snape taunt Harry.

‘The Draught of Peace,’ said Harry tensely.

‘Tell me, Potter,’ said Snape softly, ‘can you read?’

Draco Malfoy laughed.

‘Yes, I can,’ said Harry, his fingers clenched tightly around his wand.

‘Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter.’

Harry squinted at the blackboard; it was not easy to make out the instructions through the haze of multi-coloured steam now filling the dungeon.

‘"Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counter-clockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes then add two drops of syrup of hellebore.” ’

His heart sank. He had not added syrup of hellebore, but had proceeded straight to the fourth line of the instructions after allowing his potion to simmer for seven minutes.

‘Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?’

‘No,’ said Harry very quietly.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘No,’ said Harry, more loudly. ‘I forgot the hellebore.’

‘I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesce.’

The contents of Harry's potion vanished; he was left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron.

‘Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name and bring it up to my desk for testing,’ said Snape. ‘Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday.’

While everyone around him filled their flagons, Harry cleared away his things, seething. His potion had been no worse than Ron's, which was now giving off a foul odour of bad eggs; or Neville's, which had achieved the consistency of just-mixed cement and which Neville was now having to gouge out of his cauldron; yet it was he, Harry, who would be receiving zero marks for the day's work. He stuffed his wand back into his bag and slumped down on to his seat, watching everyone else march up to Snape's desk with filled and corked flagons. When at long last the bell rang, Harry was first out of the dungeon and had already started his lunch by the time Ron and Hermione joined him in the Great Hall. The ceiling had turned an even murkier grey during the morning. Rain was lashing the high windows.

‘That was really unfair,’ said Hermione consolingly, sitting down next to Harry and helping herself to shepherd's pie. ‘Your potion wasn't nearly as bad as Goyle's; when he put it in his flagon the whole thing shattered and set his robes on fire.’

‘Yeah, well,’ said Harry, glowering at his plate, ‘since when has Snape ever been fair to me?’

Neither of the others answered; all three of them knew that Snape and Harry's mutual enmity had been absolute from the moment Harry had set foot in Hogwarts.

‘I did think he might be a bit better this year,’ said Hermione in a disappointed voice. ‘I mean ... you know ...’ she looked around carefully; there were half a dozen empty seats on either side of them and nobody was passing the table ’ ... now he's in the Order and everything.’

‘Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots,’ said Ron sagely. ‘Anyway, I've always thought Dumbledore was cracked to trust Snape. Where's the evidence he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?’

‘I think Dumbledore's probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn't share it with you, Ron,’ snapped Hermione.

‘Oh, shut up, the pair of you,’ said Harry heavily, as Ron opened his mouth to argue back. Hermione and Ron both froze, looking angry and offended. ‘Can't you give it a rest?’ said Harry. ‘You're always having a go at each other, it's driving me mad.’ And abandoning his shepherd's pie, he swung his schoolbag back over his shoulder and left them sitting there.

He walked up the marble staircase two steps at a time, past the many students hurrying towards lunch. The anger that had just flared so unexpectedly still blazed inside him, and the vision of Ron and Hermione's shocked faces afforded him a sense of deep satisfaction. Serve them right, he thought, why can't they give it a rest ... bickering all the time ... it's enough to drive anyone up the wall ...

He passed the large picture of Sir Cadogan the knight on a landing; Sir Cadogan drew his sword and brandished it fiercely at Harry, who ignored him.

‘Come back, you scurvy dog! Stand fast and fight!’ yelled Sir Cadogan in a muffled voice from behind his visor, but Harry merely walked on and when Sir Cadogan attempted to follow him by running into a neighbouring picture, he was rebuffed by its inhabitant, a large and angry-looking wolfhound.

Harry spent the rest of the lunch hour sitting alone underneath the trapdoor at the top of North Tower. Consequently, he was the first to ascend the silver ladder that led to Sybill Trelawney's classroom when the bell rang.

After Potions, Divination was Harry's least favourite class, which was due mainly to Professor Trelawney's habit of predicting his premature death every few lessons. A thin woman, heavily draped in shawls and glittering with strings of beads, she always reminded Harry of some kind of insect, with her glasses hugely magnifying her eyes. She was busy putting copies of battered leather-bound books on each of the spindly little tables with which her room was littered when Harry entered the room, but the light cast by the lamps covered by scarves and the low-burning, sickly-scented fire was so dim she appeared not to notice him as he took a seat in the shadows. The rest of the class arrived over the next five minutes. Ron emerged from the trapdoor, looked around carefully, spotted Harry and made directly for him, or as directly as he could while having to wend his way between tables, chairs and overstuffed pouffes.

‘Hermione and me have stopped arguing,’ he said, sitting down beside Harry.

‘Good,’ grunted Harry.

‘But Hermione says she thinks it would be nice if you stopped taking out your temper on us,’ said Ron.

‘I ‘m not—’

‘I'm just passing on the message,’ said Ron, talking over him. ‘But I reckon she's right. It's not our fault how Seamus and Snape treat you.’

‘I never said it —’

‘Good-day,’ said Professor Trelawney in her usual misty, dreamy voice, and Harry broke off, again feeling both annoyed and slightly ashamed of himself. ‘And welcome back to Divination. I have, of course, been following your fortunes most carefully over the holidays, and am delighted to see that you have all returned to Hogwarts safely—as, of course, I knew you would.

‘You will find on the tables before you copies of The Dream Oracle, by Inigo Imago. Dream interpretation is a most important means of divining the future and one that may very probably be tested in your OWL. Not, of course, that I believe examination passes or failures are of the remotest importance when it comes to the sacred art of divination. If you have the Seeing Eye, certificates and grades matter very little. However, the Headmaster likes you to sit the examination, so ...’

Her voice trailed away delicately, leaving them all in no doubt that Professor Trelawney considered her subject above such sordid matters as examinations.

‘Turn, please, to the introduction and read what Imago has to say on the matter of dream interpretation. Then, divide into pairs. Use The Dream Oracle to interpret each other's most recent dreams. Carry on.’

The one good thing to be said for this lesson was that it was not a double period. By the time they had all finished reading the introduction of the book, they had barely ten minutes left for dream interpretation. At the table next to Harry and Ron, Dean had paired up with Neville, who immediately embarked on a long-winded explanation of a nightmare involving a pair of giant scissors wearing his grandmother's best hat; Harry and Ron merely looked at each other glumly.

‘I never remember my dreams,’ said Ron, ‘you say one.’

‘You must remember one of them,’ said Harry impatiently.

He was not going to share his dreams with anyone. He knew perfectly well what his regular nightmare about a graveyard meant, he did not need Ron or Proiessor Trelawney or the stupid Dream Oracle to tell him.

‘Well, I dreamed I was playing Quidditch the other night,’ said Ron, screwing up his face in an effort to remember. ‘What d'you reckon that means?’

‘Probably that you're going to be eaten by a giant marshmallow or something,’ said Harry, turning the pages of The Dream Oracle without interest. It was very dull work looking up bits of dreams in the Oracle and Harry was not cheered up when Professor Trelawney set them the task of keeping a dream diary for a month as homework. When the bell went, he and Ron led the way back down the ladder, Ron grumbling loudly.

‘D'you realise how much homework we've got already? Binns set us a foot-and-a-half-long essay on giant wars, Snape wants a foot on the use of moonstones, and now we've got a month's dream diary from Trelawney! Fred and George weren't wrong about OWL year, were they? That Umbridge woman had better not give us any ...’

When they entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom they found Professor Umbridge already seated at the teachers desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan of the night before and the black velvet bow on top of her head. Harry was again reminded forcibly of a large fly perched unwisely on top of an even larger toad.

The class was quiet as it entered the room; Professor Umbridge was, as yet, an unknown quantity and nobody knew how strict a disciplinarian she was likely to be.

‘Well, good afternoon!’ she said, when finally the whole class had sat down.

A few people mumbled ‘good afternoon’ in reply.

‘Tut, tut,’ said Professor Umbridge. ‘That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply “Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge". One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!’

‘Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,’ they chanted back at her.

‘There, now,’ said Professor Umbridge sweetly. That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please.’

Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the order ‘wands away’ had never yet been followed by a lesson they had found interesting. Harry shoved his wand back inside his bag and pulled cut quill, ink and parchment. Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:

Defence Against the Dark Arts

A Return to Basic Principles

‘Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?’ stated Professor Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your OWL year.

‘You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please.’

She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by:

Course Aims:
1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.

2. Learning to recognise situations in which defensive magic can legally be used

3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. When everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge's three course aims she asked, ‘Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?’

There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class.

‘I think we'll try that again,’ said Professor Umbridge. ‘When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply, “Yes, Professor Umbridge", or “No, Professor Umbridge". So: has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?’

‘Yes, Professor Umbridge,’ rang through the room.

‘Good,’ said Professor Umbridge. ‘I should like you to turn to page five and read “Chapter One, Basics for Beginners". There will be no need to talk.’

Professor Umbridge left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher's desk, observing them all closely with those pouchy toad's eyes. Harry turned to page five of his copy of Defensive Magical Theory and started to read.

It was desperately dull, quite as bad as listening to Professor Binns. He felt his concentration sliding away from him; he had soon read the same line half a dozen times without taking in more than the first few words. Several silent minutes passed. Next to him, Ron was absent-mindedly turning his quill over and over in his fingers, staring at the same spot on the page. Harry looked right and received a surprise to shake him out of his torpor. Hermione had not even opened her copy of Defensive Magical Theory.She was staring fixedly at Professor Umbridge with her hand in the air.

Harry could not remember Hermione ever neglecting to read when instructed to, or indeed resisting the temptation to open any book that came under her nose. He looked at her enquiringly, but she merely shook her head slightly to indicate that she was not about to answer questions, and continued to stare at Professor Umbridge, who was looking just as resolutely in another direction.

After several more minutes had passed, however, Harry was not the only one watching Hermione. The chapter they had been instructed to read was so tedious that more and more people were choosing to watch Hermione's mute attempt to catch Professor Umbridge's eye rather than struggle on with ‘Basics for Beginners'.

When more than half the class were staring at Hermione rather than at their books, Professor Umbridge seemed to decide that she could ignore the situation no longer.

‘Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?’ she asked Hermione, as though she had only just noticed her.

‘Not about the chapter, no,’ said Hermione.

‘Well, we're reading just now,’ said Professor Umbridge, showing her small pointed teeth. ‘If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class.’

‘I've got a query about your course aims,’ said Hermione.

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows.

‘And your name is?’

‘Hermione Granger,’ said Hermione.

‘Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully,’ said Professor Umbridge in a voice of determined sweetness.

‘Well, I don't,’ said Hermione bluntly. ‘There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells.’

There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard.

‘Using defensive spells?’ Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. ‘Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?’

‘We're not going to use magic?’ Ron exclaimed loudly.

‘Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr.—?’

‘Weasley,’ said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air.

Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him. Harry and Hermione immediately raised their hands too. Professor Umbridge's pouchy eyes lingered on Harry for a moment before she addressed Hermione.

‘Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?’

‘Yes,’ said Hermione. ‘Surely the whole point of Defence Against the Dark Arts is to practise defensive spells?’

‘Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?’ asked Professor Umbridge, in her falsely sweet voice.

‘No, but—’

‘Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the “whole point” of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new programme of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way—’

‘What use is that?’ said Harry loudly. ‘If we're going to be attacked, it won't be in a—’

‘Hand,Mr Potter!’ sang Professor Umbridge.

Harry thrust his fist in the air. Again, Professor Umbridge promptly turned away from him, but now several other people had their hands up, too.

‘And your name is?’ Professor Umbridge said to Dean.

‘Dean Thomas.’

‘Well, Mr Thomas?’

‘Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?’ said Dean. ‘If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk free.’

‘I repeat,’ said Professor Umbridge, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dean, ‘do you expect to be attacked during my classes?’

‘No, but—’

Professor Umbridge talked over him. ‘I do not wish to criticise the way things have been run in this school,’ she said, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth, ‘but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed—not to mention,’ she gave a nasty little laugh, ‘extremely dangerous half-breeds.’

‘If you mean Professor Lupin,’ piped up Dean angrily, ‘he was the best we ever—

‘Hand,Mr Thomas! As I was saying—you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day—’

‘No we haven't,’ Hermione said, ‘we just—’

‘Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!’

Hermione put up her hand. Professor Umbridge turned away from her.

‘It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you.’

‘Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?’ said Dean hotly. ‘Mind you, we still learned loads.’

‘Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!’ trilled Professor Umbridge. ‘Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?’ she added, staring at Parvati, whose hand had just shot up.

‘Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter-curses and things?’

‘As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions,’ said Professor Umbridge dismissively.

‘Without ever practising them beforehand?’ said Parvati incredulously. ‘Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?’

‘I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough—’

‘And what good's theory going to be in the real world?’ said Harry loudly, his fist in the air again.

Professor Umbridge looked up.

‘This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world,’ she said softly.

‘So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting for us out there?’

‘There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ said Harry. His temper, which seemed to have been bubbling just beneath the surface all day, was reaching boiling point.

‘Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?’ enquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice.

‘Hmm, let's think ...’ said Harry in a mock thoughtful voice. ‘Maybe ... Lord Voldemort?’

Ron gasped; Lavender Brown uttered a little scream; Neville slipped sideways off his stool. Professor Umbridge, however, did not flinch. She was staring at Harry with a grimly satisfied expression on her face.

‘Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter.’

The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staring at either Umbridge or Harry.

‘Now, let me make a few things quite plain.’

Professor Umbridge stood up and leaned towards them, her stubby-fingered hands splayed on her desk.

‘You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead—’

‘He wasn't dead,’ said Harry angrily, ‘but yeah, he's returned!’

‘Mr-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-house-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself,’ said Professor Umbridge in one breath without looking at him. ‘As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie.’

‘It is NOT a lie!’ said Harry. ‘I saw him, I fought him!’

‘Detention, Mr Potter!’ said Professor Umbridge triumphantly. ‘Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office. I repeat, this is a lie.The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, “Basics for Beginners".’

Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk. Harry, however, stood up. Everyone was staring at him; Seamus looked half-scared, half-fascinated.

‘Harry, no!’ Hermione whispered in a warning voice, tugging at his sleeve, but Harry jerked his arm out of her reach.

‘So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?’ Harry asked, his voice shaking.

There was a collective intake of breath from the class, for none of them, apart from Ron and Hermione, had ever heard Harry talk about what had happened on the night Cedric had died. They stared avidly from Harry to Professor Umbridge, who had raised her eyes and was staring at him without a trace of a fake smile on her face.

‘Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident,’ she said coldly.

‘It was murder,’ said Harry. He could feel himself shaking. He had hardly spoken to anyone about this, least of all thirty eagerly listening classmates. ‘Voldemort killed him and you know it.’

Professor Umbridge's face was quite blank. For a moment, Harry thought she was going to scream at him. Then she said, in her softest, most sweetly girlish voice, ‘Come here, Mr. Potter, dear.’

He kicked his chair aside, strode around Ron and Hermione and up to the teacher's desk. He could feel the rest of the class holding its breath. He felt so angry he did not care what happened next.

Professor Umbridge pulled a small roll of pink parchment out of her handbag, stretched it out on the desk, dipped her quill into a bottle of ink and started scribbling, hunched over so that Harry could not see what she was writing. Nobody spoke. After a minute or so she rolled up the parchment and tapped it with her wand; it sealed itself seamlessly so that he could not open it.

‘Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear,’ said Professor Umbridge, holding out the note to him.

He took it from her without saying a word, turned on his heel and left the room, not even looking back at Ron and Hermione, slamming the classroom door shut behind him. He walked very fast along the corridor, the note to McGonagall clutched tight in his hand, and turning a corner walked slap into Peeves the poltergeist, a wide-mouthed little man floating on his back in midair, juggling several inkwells.

‘Why, it's Potty Wee Potter!’ cackled Peeves, allowing two of the inkwells to fall to the ground where they smashed and spattered the walls with ink; Harry jumped backwards out of the way with a snarl.

‘Get out of it, Peeves.’

‘Oooh, Crackpot's feeling cranky,’ said Peeves, pursuing Harry along the corridor, leering as he zoomed along above him. ‘What is it this time, my fine Potty friend? Hearing voices? Seeing visions? Speaking in—’ Peeves blew a gigantic raspberry ‘— tongues?’

‘I said, leave me ALONE!’ Harry shouted, running down the nearest flight of stairs, but Peeves merely slid down the banister on his back beside him.

‘Oh, most think he's barking, the potty wee lad,

But some are more kindly and think he's just sad,

But Peevesy knows better and says that he's mad—’

 

‘SHUT UP!’

A door to his left flew open and Professor McGonagall emerged from her office looking grim and slightly harassed.

‘What on earth are you shouting about, Potter?’ she snapped, as Peeves cackled gleefully and zoomed out of sight. ‘Why aren't you in class?’

‘I've been sent to see you,’ said Harry stiffly.

‘Sent? What do you mean, sent?’

He held out the note from Professor Umbridge. Professor McGonagall took it from him, frowning, slit it open with a tap of her wand, stretched it out and began to read. Her eyes zoomed from side to side behind their square spectacles as she read what Umbridge had written, and with each line they became narrower.

‘Come in here, Potter.’

He followed her inside her study. The door closed automatically behind him.

‘Well?’ said Professor McGonagall, rounding on him. ‘Is this true?’

‘Is what true?’ Harry asked, rather more aggressively than he had intended. ‘Professor?’ he added, in an attempt to sound more polite.

‘Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge?’

‘Yes,’ said Harry.

‘You called her a liar?’

‘Yes.’

‘You told her He Who Must Not Be Named is back?’

‘Yes.’

Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk, watching Harry closely. Then she said, ‘Have a biscuit, Potter.’

‘Have—what?’

‘Have a biscuit,’ she repeated impatiently, indicating a tartan tin lying on top of one of the piles of papers on her desk. ‘And sit down.’

There had been a previous occasion when Harry, expecting to be caned by Professor McGonagall, had instead been appointed by her to the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He sank into a chair opposite her and helped himself to a Ginger Newt, feeling just as confused and wrong-footed as he had done on that occasion.

Professor McGonagall set down Professor Umbridge's note and looked very seriously at Harry.

‘Potter, you need to be careful.’

Harry swallowed his mouthful of Ginger Newt and stared at her. Her tone of voice was not at all what he was used to; it was not brisk, crisp and stern; it was low and anxious and somehow much more human than usual.

‘Misbehaviour in Dolores Umbridge's class could cost you much more than house points and a detention.’

‘What do you—?’

‘Potter, use your common sense,’ snapped Professor McGonagall, with an abrupt return to her usual manner. ‘You know where she comes from, you must know to whom she is reporting.’

The bell rang for the end of the lesson. Overhead and all around came the elephantine sounds of hundreds of students on the move.

‘It says here she's given you detention every evening this week, starting tomorrow,’ Professor McGonagall said, looking down at Umbridge's note again.

‘Every evening this week!’ Harry repeated, horrified. ‘But, Professor, couldn't you—?’

‘No, I couldn't,’ said Professor McGonagall flatly.

‘But—’

‘She is your teacher and has every right to give you detention. You will go to her room at five o'clock tomorrow for the first one. Just remember: tread carefully around Dolores Umbridge.’

‘But I was telling the truth!’ said Harry, outraged. ‘Voldemort is back, you know he is; Professor Dumbledore knows he is—’

‘For heaven's sake, Potter!’ said Professor McGonagall, straightening her glasses angrily (she had winced horribly when he had used Voldemort's name). ‘Do you really think this is about truth or lies? It's about keeping your head down and your temper under control!’

She stood up, nostrils wide and mouth very thin, and Harry stood up, too.

‘Have another biscuit,’ she said irritably, thrusting the tin at him.

‘No, thanks,’ said Harry coldly.

‘Don't be ridiculous,’ she snapped.

He took one.

‘Thanks,’ he said grudgingly.

‘Didn't you listen to Dolores Umbridge's speech at the start-of-term feast, Potter?’

‘Yeah,’ said Harry. ‘Yeah ... she said ... progress will be prohibited or ... well, it meant that ... that the Ministry of Magic is trying to interfere at Hogwarts.’

Professor McGonagall eyed him closely for a moment, then sniffed, walked around her desk and held open the door for him.

‘Well, I'm glad you listen to Hermione Granger at any rate,’ she said, pointing him out of her office.

西姆斯以最快的速度穿好衣服并在哈利穿好袜子前走出了寝室。

　　当他衣袍的边也消失于眼际时，哈利大声叫道：“他是不是认为和我在一个屋子待久了也会变成一个疯子？”

　　“别为它烦恼，哈利，”迪安咕哝道，同时背起了他的书包，“他只是——”

　　很显然他也不知道西姆斯怎么了，因而在停顿了一下后也溜出了房门。

　　纳威和罗恩同时递给哈利一个表示“那是他的问题，不关你的事”的眼神，但哈利并没有从这些动作之中感到多少安慰。想反，他稍有烦燥的在想：像这样的事他还得受多少？

　　“怎么了？”五分钟后荷米恩赶上正穿过公共休息室去吃早饭的哈利和罗恩问道，“你们看上去绝对——哦，我的天啊！”

　　她瞪着公共休息室的布告版，在一张宣布第一次去霍格玛德魔法村的周末将是在十月份的海报上面被贴上一张巨大的新告示：

　　一堆的帆船币！感到零花钱不够满足你的花费？想要挣些额外的金币？只是一份既简单又轻松的兼职！请到格里芬顿公共休息室与弗莱德和乔治·威斯里联系在告示的下方还有一行小字：申请者将要承担一些因工作带来的小小风险。

　　“这是被禁止的，”荷米恩严肃地说，揭下了被弗莱德和乔治钉在一张海报上的告示， “我们该和他们谈谈，罗恩。”荷米恩说。 当他们穿过胖大婶的画像时，荷米恩说道：“因为我们是级长，阻止这样的事是我们的职责。”

　　罗恩没有响应；哈利从他阴沉的表情上看出他对劝阻双胞胎兄弟的前景并不看好。

　　“无论如何，哈利，到底怎么了？你看上去很恼火。”荷米恩继续道，这时他们走过了一串挂在楼梯边的女巫和巫师的肖像，但那些画像并没有理他们，投入地谈论着自己的话题。

　　“西姆斯怀疑哈利在神秘人的事上撒了谎。”罗恩替没有回答的哈利简单地解释了一番。

　　荷米恩叹了口气，并没有如哈利预计的暴怒。

　　她沮丧地说：“是的，Lavender也是这么认为。”

　　“和她愉快的谈论我，一个想要别人的注意的傻瓜，是否在说谎，是吗？”哈利大叫着。

　　荷米恩平静地说：“实际并不是这样，我警告她闭上她那张谈论你的大肥嘴。如果你能降低一下你对罗恩和我的声调那就更好了。你难道没看出来我们是站在你这边的吗？”

　　一段小小的沉默。

　　“对不起，”哈利颓丧地低声道。

　　“这样就好了。”荷米恩高傲的说道，接着她摇了摇头说道：“你难道不记得丹伯多在上个学期末的宴会上说的了吗？”

　　哈利和罗恩都茫然地看着荷米恩，希冀着她能解释地清楚些。

　　“就是关于神秘人的。他说他的“散布不和谐音和憎恨的天赋很高。我们只能凭与之相对的友谊和信任结合的强大力量和他抗衡——”

　　“你怎么能把原版记得那么牢？”罗恩羡慕地看着她。

　　“我是听的，罗恩，”荷米恩以一种刻薄的语气说道。

　　“我也在听的，但我还是不能像你那样说的精—”

　　“重点是现在这种事就是丹伯多所说的，”荷米恩提高嗓音强调，“神秘人回来不过两个月，我们就已经起内讧了。分院帽也是这样警告的：站在一起，团结起来—”

　　“但哈利昨晚那样是对的，”罗恩反驳道，“如果那警告意味着我们要向史林德林的蠢材们示好。”

　　“那我很遗憾我们没在为让内部的一点团结而努力。”荷米恩针锋相对道。

　　当他们走完大理石的楼梯时，一队拉文克罗的四年级学生正在穿过大厅。他们瞧见了哈利就挤作一团地跑开了，好像哈利会攻击那些掉队的。

　　“是啊，我们的确是要试着和那些人交朋友。”哈利讽刺地说道。

　　他们随着拉文克罗的人进了大厅，不自觉地朝教工餐桌望了望。格卢比。布兰科教授（哈格力之前的魔法生物学老师：骑车过路人插）正在和希尼斯塔教授（天文学老师）聊天，而哈格力显然再一次地没有出现。在他们头顶的施了魔法的天花板就像是哈利的心情一样，是种凄惨的乌云密布的灰色。

　　“丹伯多甚至没有提起格卢比。布兰科要在这待多久，”当他们向格里芬顿的餐桌走去时哈利抱怨道。

　　“也许—”荷米恩思索着。

　　“什么？”哈利和罗恩同声道。

　　“也许他不想让人注意到哈格力的缺席。”

　　“什么意思，让人注意到？”罗恩半笑半说，“我们怎么能不注意到？”

　　就在荷米恩回应之前，一个又高又黑，梳着长长的麻花辫的女孩大步向哈利走来。

　　“你好，安吉莉娜。”

　　“你好，”她兴奋地回道，“假期过得好吗？”没等到回答她就说道，“你们知道吗，我被任为格里芬顿的快迪斯队长。”

　　“真棒，”哈利祝贺道，朝她咧嘴笑着；他希望安吉莉娜充满活力的讲话不会象奥利弗·伍德的那么长，那样的话就是一个进步了。

　　“是的，鉴于奥利弗的离开，我们需要一个新守门。测试将于周五五点举行，我希望全队都到，明白了吗？然后我们要看看那新人怎么和我们配合。’“好。”

　　安吉莉娜笑着离开了。

　　“我都忘了伍德已经离开了，”荷米恩含糊地说，她已经坐在罗恩旁，一大盘的烤吐司堆在她面前，“我希望这会对整个队有个大变化。”

　　“我也这么想，”哈利坐在对面的位子，“伍德原是个很好的守门。”

　　“但它不会影响一些新鲜的血液进入，对吗？”罗恩说。

　　在一阵淅沥哗啦中，几百只猫头鹰从天窗飞了进来，盘旋在上空。它们直冲向它们的主人，带来信件和包裹，抖落向正在进食的人滴滴雨水；外面的雨肯定下得很大。海维没有出现，但哈利并不惊讶；他唯一的通信人就是天狼星，而他不认为在离开二十四小时后天狼星有什么新的要告诉他。然而荷米恩却不得不迅速移开她的橘子汁腾出地方给一只湿透了的从畜棚来的大猫头鹰，它的嘴里叼着一份已经浸透的预言者日报。

　　“你还订那个干什么？”哈利暴躁地问道，想到了西姆斯，这时荷米恩正把一个克拉币放进猫头鹰的皮袋中，“我不会为一堆垃圾烦恼的。”

　　“这是最好的了解敌人在说些什么的途径，”荷米恩黑着脸说，她把报纸展开然后消失在报纸后面，直到哈利和罗恩吃完了他们的早餐才把头冒了出来。

　　“没事，”她简单地说道，把报纸卷起来放在盘子边，“没有任何事是关于你或是丹伯多的。”

　　麦格教授这是正拿着张时间表沿着桌子走着。

　　“看看今天！”罗恩呻吟道，“魔法历史课，两节药剂课，预言课还有两节黑魔法防御课—宾斯，斯内普，特雷洛尼还有那个乌姆。布瑞杰都在一天里！我真希望弗莱德和乔治能赶快把那个削蛇盒弄好“我有没有听错，”弗莱德说道，他和乔治正挤进来坐在哈利旁边，“霍格沃兹的级长不会想翘课的吧？”

　　“瞧瞧我们今天都上些什么，”罗恩咆哮着，把时间表推到弗莱德面前，“这是我碰到过的最糟糕的星期一。”

　　“公平交易，小弟，”弗莱德看了遍时间表说道。“如果你想要，我们可以便宜一点卖给你些流鼻血奶油杏仁糖。”

　　“为什么便宜些？”罗恩怀疑道。

　　“因为你会流鼻血直到你变老，我们还没有恢复剂，”乔治边说边吃着腌鱼。

　　“干杯，”罗恩心情激动地说，收好他的课程表，“不过我想我还是去上课吧。”

　　“还说你的削蛇盒”荷米恩说，看了弗莱德和乔治一眼，“你不能在格兰芬多的布告板上做广告。”

　　“谁说的？”乔治说，看起来很惊讶。

　　“我说的，”荷米恩说，“还有罗恩”

　　“不包括我，”罗恩急忙说。

　　荷米恩瞪了他一眼。弗莱德和乔治在一旁窃笑。

　　“你很快就会唱一首很不同的歌曲，荷米恩，”弗莱德说，在烤面包上涂了一层厚厚的黄油。“你正在开始你的第5年，不出多久你就会向我们乞求一个削蛇盒了。”

　　“但为什么开始第5年就说明我想要一个削蛇盒呢？”荷米恩问。“第5年要进行普通巫师等级考试。”乔治说。

　　“然后？”

　　“然后你的测试就会来了，不对吗？他们会使你成为一个用功的学生”弗莱德说的时候作出很满意的表情。

　　“我们半年的时间都花在普通巫师等级考试上了，”乔治高兴地说。“眼泪和发脾气……”

　　“Kenneth的塔在沸腾中出现的，你还记得么？”弗莱德回忆着说。

　　“那是因为你放了Bulbadox粉在他的夹克衫里”乔治说。

　　“哦，对，”弗莱德说，露出牙齿笑了。“我忘了……很难非常清楚的记得什么东西，不对吗？”

　　“总之，这是第5年的一个噩梦，”乔治说。“如果你介意考试的结果，随便。弗莱德和我不知何故要维持我们的啄木鸟。”

　　“是啊，”弗莱德漫不经心地说。“但我们觉得我们的将来会不止在学院里撒谎。”

　　“我们最严肃的争论是我们第7年还来不来这里上学，”乔治鲜明地说，“现在我们已经有了-”

　　他在哈利向他投来一个警告的眼光时停住了，乔治知道是哈利把他在勇士争霸塞赢得的钱给了他。

　　“现在我们已经有了我们的普通巫师证书，”乔治急忙说。“我的意思是，我们真的还需要终极巫师的证书吗？但我们想妈妈不会让我们太早离开学校，在泊西之后又成为世界最傻的人。”

　　“我们不打算在这里浪费我们的最后一年，”弗莱德说，看了一眼门厅。“我们将用它去做很多调查，找出一般的霍格瓦彻的学生在笑话商店需要什么，仔细评估调查的结果，然后生产产品来满足需要。”

　　“但你怎么筹集资金去开笑话商店呢？”荷米恩怀疑地问。“你们需要所有的材料和成分—还有前提，我想……”

　　哈利没有看双胞胎。他的脸红了；他并不希望他的叉子掉下来再弯腰去捡它。他听见弗莱德在头上说：“不要问我们问题，我们就不会对你说谎，荷米恩。来，乔治，如果我们早点到那里也许能卖几只顺风耳。”

　　哈利从桌子底下抬起头以便能看见弗莱德和乔治走远，每个人都拿着一堆烤面包“这是什么意思？”荷米恩说，在哈利和罗恩之间看来看去。“‘不要问我们问题……’这说明他们已经有一些资金去开笑话商店吗？”

　　“你知道，我正在为这件事情惊讶，”罗恩说，他皱起眉毛。“他们暑假给我买了一件礼服，而我不知道他们从哪里弄来的钱。”

　　哈利想现在是时候避开这个话题了。

　　“你们认为这年将变得很艰难吗？因为考试？”

　　“噢，对啊，”罗恩说，“将会，不是吗？普通巫师等级考试很重要，影响到工作还有你可以用在一切事情上。我们有事业的选择，一样，比尔告诉过我。所以明年你可以选择考哪种终极巫师等级考试。”

　　“你们知道我在霍格瓦彻毕业后想做什么吗？”哈利问他们两人，当他们离开门厅准备去上魔法史时。

　　“不太清楚。”罗恩慢慢地说，“除非。。恩。。”

　　他看起来很羞怯。

　　“什么？”哈利问他。

　　“好，当傲罗是很酷的。”罗恩用很随便的声音说。

　　“对，是的。”哈利热心地说。

　　“但他们，像，精华，”罗恩说。“你做会很好。你呢，荷米恩？”

　　“我不知道，”她说。“我想我也许会做值得做的。”

　　“一个傲罗就很值得做！”哈利说

　　“是的，但它不是唯一值得做的事情，”荷米恩深思地说。“我的意思是，如果能把小精灵福利促进协会继续办下去。。”

　　哈利和罗恩尽量避免看对方。

　　魔法史通常都被巫师认为是最无聊的课程。宾斯教授，他们的幽灵教师，用气喘的，低沉的并带着睡意的不停的讲着。他从不改变他们的课程，但也不在他们做笔记时停下演讲，或宁可带着睡意注视着空气。哈利和罗恩从来没理过这门课程除了在考试前抄荷米恩的笔记；她似乎能抵抗宾斯教授催眠的声音。

　　今天，他们忍受了一个半小时用低沉的声音叙述巨人的战争。哈利在教室里待了10分钟后就领会到如果这门课程由其他教师来上会有趣得多，但他的脑袋似乎停止了转动，然后他花了差不多一个小时和20分钟和罗恩在羊皮纸上玩侩子手的游戏，当荷米恩在眼角向他们投去厌恶的一眼。

　　“如果今年我不再借笔记给你们？你们会怎么样？”当他们离开教室时，荷米恩冷淡地问。

　　“我们会在普通巫师等级考试上失败，”罗恩说，“如果你对得起你的良心，荷米恩。。。”

　　“那是应该的，”她严厉地说。“你甚至从来不听他讲课，是么？”

　　“我的确试了，”罗恩说道，“我就是没有你的智力、你的记忆力和你的专心。你比我们更聪明罢了，你认为触痛我们是很愉快的么？

　　“哦，不要对我们说那些废话。”荷米恩说道，但是当她进入潮湿庭院里时 , 她看起来平静了些。 带着雾的细雨正在下着，所以蜷缩在院子边缘的人们看起来十分模糊，哈利，罗恩和荷米恩在落雨的阳台下选择了一个隐蔽的角落，打开长袍的领口来对抗这寒冷的秋风，还讨论着史内伯在今年的第一课会怎样教训他们，他们已经考虑到这可能会极端困难，就是在一个两个月的假期之后来抓住他们。此时一个人走了过来。

　　“好呀，哈利！”

　　那时张秋，更多的，她再一次是靠她自己。这也是最不寻常的：她几乎总是被一群笑着的女孩围住。哈利记得自己去邀请他参加圣诞舞会的痛苦。

　　“好呀”哈利说着，感觉他的脸正在变红，“至少这次你的脸部像一个傻子。”他告诉他自己。张秋看起来像是在想同样的东西。

　　“你寄出那一种东西,然后？”

　　“是的，”哈利说道，试着露出牙齿笑了一下，尽管他们最后一次的约会仍然记忆犹新，“那么，你，嗯，过了个愉快的暑假吗？”

　　此刻他已经说他没有希望──塞德里克已经成为秋的男朋友了，并且他的死亡对秋暑假的影响一定比他对哈利等影响还要糟，她的脸看起来拉紧了许多，当时她说，“很好的，你知道的。”

　　“那是一个龙卷风胸章？”罗恩突然指着秋长袍的前面，天蓝色的徽章上别着两个金色的‘T’。“你不支持他们，是吗？”

　　“是的。”秋回答道。

　　“你总是支持他们，还是仅仅从他们开始赢了联赛？”罗恩用哈利怎样考虑一个不必要的指控时所用的声音说。

　　“自从我六岁时就开始支持他们了。”秋冷淡的说，“总之，看你，哈利。”

　　她走开了。荷米恩一直等到秋穿过院子之后才走向罗恩。

　　“你真是太不明智了！”

　　“什么？我只是问他如果──”

　　“你不能告诉她想自己对哈利说话呢？”

　　“这样？她不能做完，我就不停止──”

　　“为什么你总是在地上攻击她的魁地奇队呢？”

　　“攻击？我不是攻击她，我只是──”

　　“谁介意她是否支持龙卷风呢？”

　　“哦，过来，你看半数的人佩戴着那个胸章，虽然他们在上个月才购买了它！”

　　“但这有什么关系！”

　　“这意味着他们并不是真正的爱好者，他们只不过是赶潮流罢了。”

　　“那是铃！”哈利迟缓地说，因为荷米恩和罗恩争吵地太大声以至于听不清他们在说什么。他们并没有停止争辩所有去斯内普地牢的路。哈里细想内文尔与罗恩是谁给他很多时间。他曾十分幸运和秋谈论了二分钟使他不必向后看来想着离开家乡。

　　“恩？我支持，”秋说。

　　“你总是支持还是只是当他们开始组织的时候？”罗恩说，用哈利尊重的一种有点问罪性的声调。

　　“我在六年级就支持他们了，”秋沉着地说。“总之，再见，哈利。”

　　她走了。荷米恩等到秋走进大厅之后对罗恩说：“你一点也不机智！”

　　“什么？我只是问她如果—”

　　“你就不能告诉她想跟哈利单独说话？”

　　“这样？她说完，我停不下来—”

　　“究竟为什么你要攻击她的魁地奇球队？”

　　“谁在意她支持Tornados？”

　　“哦，算了吧，你看见的一半的人都戴着那些徽章，都只是在上个季度买的。”

　　“但为什么！”

　　“它说明他们并不是真正的狂热者，他们只是追求流行—”

　　“铃响了，”哈利迟钝地的说，因为罗恩和荷米恩争吵得太大声以至听不到铃声。他们没有停止他们的争吵当他们去斯内浦的地牢时，这给了哈利足够的时间去思考在纳威赫罗恩之间他更幸运一些—能和秋谈上两分钟。

　　然而，他想，当他们加入在斯内浦教室门前的长队时，她选择了走到他身旁和他谈话，不对吗？她曾经是塞德理克的女朋友；她很容易就可以恨死哈利，因为他活着离开了勇士争霸赛的迷宫而塞德理克却死了，但她却完全象个朋友一样跟他说话，没有当他是个疯子或说谎者，或者要他为塞德理克的死而负责任。是的，她确实选择去跟他说话，而且两天中第二次这样做。想到这里，哈利很高兴。尽管斯内浦教室的门打开时咯咯吱吱声没缩小，希望的泡泡在他的胸中变大了。他跟着罗恩和荷米恩走进教室并走向他们通常坐的在最后的桌子，也忽略了当他坐在罗恩和荷米恩中间时，他们两人都在发出急躁的声音。

　　“坐下，”斯内浦冷淡地说，关上了门。

　　在课堂上发出命令是没用的；当教室听到门关上的声音时，就安静下来，所有的动作都停住了。斯内浦的表情就足够使教室安静下来。

　　“在上今天的课之前，”斯内浦说，走到他的讲台前并开始到处看他们，“我想适当的提醒你们，六月你们就要接受一个重要的考试，看一下你们到底在作文和魔法药剂方面学得怎么样。班上的笨蛋无庸置疑还使有的，你们会有两个选择，一是拿一个‘合格’的普通巫师等级考试成绩回来，或者接受我的怒火。”

　　他注视了纳威一会，似乎为了演示不合格人员将要接受到的怒火，而被注视者正在努力的抑制恐惧。

　　“今年过去后，当然，你们中的许多人都会不再跟我学习，”斯内浦继续说。“我只会让很好的学生进入我的终极巫师等级考试的魔法药剂班，这就意味着你们中的一些人会说再见。”

　　他的眼睛停止在哈利身上然后他的嘴巴抿了起来。哈利朝他瞪眼，感到可怕的快乐在他打算在第5年后放弃魔法药剂这门课的念头上。

　　“但是我们还有一年在高兴的说再见的那时刻来到之前，”斯内浦柔和地说，“所以，不论你们想不想尝试终极巫师等级考试，我建议你们把精力都放在这门课上。”

　　“今天我们将混合一个药剂，这是在普通巫师等级考试上经常考的：和平药剂，一种可以平息焦虑和缓和兴奋的药。注意：如果你在放材料时太笨手笨脚的话会使喝药的人永久的睡下去，所以你需要十分注意你在干什么。”在哈利的左边，荷米恩坐直了身体，她表示要十分集中注意力。“材料和方法—”斯内浦突然摇动他的魔杖，“—在黑板上面—”（它们出现在上面）“-你们会找到你们需要的一切—”他再次摇动他的魔杖“-在贮藏柜里—”（储藏柜的门突然打开了）“—你有一个半小时的时间，开始”

　　就象哈利，罗恩和荷米恩预知的一样，斯内浦给了他们更难的，无聊的药剂材料准确无误出现在大气锅里，并且数量刚好足够；混合物准确的在锅里搅动，首先顺时针方向，再逆时针方向；当火焰太热时就降低以适合特殊的药物当所有的材料都加进去之前。

　　“一团发光的银色水气现在应该从你的大气锅升起，”斯内浦说，十分钟过去后。

　　哈利，出了很多汗水，绝望地望着地牢。他的大气锅冒出的是黑灰色的蒸汽；罗恩的则是绿色的火花。西姆斯兴奋地用魔杖戳他的大气锅的底部，好象他们就要出来一样。荷米恩的药剂的表面，却闪烁着朦胧不清的银色水汽，当斯内浦从他的鹰钩鼻往下看时，没有任何批评，因为他找不到任何理由来吹毛求疵。

　　在波特的大气锅，斯内浦却停了下来，用极可憎的傻笑往下看。

　　“波特，想象一下这会变成什么？”

　　在教室前端斯莱特林都热心的往后看，他们喜欢听斯内浦嘲弄哈利。

　　“和平药剂，”哈利紧张地说。

　　“告诉我哈利，”斯内浦柔和地说，“你会阅读吗？”

　　德拉科·马尔夫大笑。

　　“是的，我会，”哈利说，他的手指牢牢地抓住了他的魔杖。

　　“读材料的第3行，波特。”

　　“加月长石的粉，逆时针方向转3次，慢慢地煮七分钟后加两小勺菟葵的果汁。”

　　他的心猛的下沉了。他没加菟葵汁，但当他煮了七分钟后就开始加第4行的材料了。

　　“你做了第3行的每一件事情了吗，波特？”

　　“没有，”哈利沉着地说。

　　“麻烦你重说一遍？”

　　“没有，”哈利说，更大声了。“我没加菟葵汁。”

　　“我知道你加了，波特，这就意味着这个药剂是完全报废了。Evanesce”

　　哈利的药剂的目录消失了；他傻傻地站在空空的大气锅后。

　　“你们要仔细地读指示，把你们的药剂倒满一酒壶，标签上写上你们的名字然后放倒我的桌子上测试，”斯内浦说。“家庭作业：12英寸的羊皮纸关于月长石的性质和它在药剂方面的作用，星期四交。”

　　当每个人都在装酒壶时，哈利清理他的东西，很生气。他的药剂并不比罗恩的差，罗恩正在倒掉一些散发出臭气的坏鸡蛋,或者纳威的,纳威正在完成刚刚搅拌好的水泥和挖出他的大气锅;然而他,哈利,今天将得到零分。他把魔杖装进书包然后坐在椅子上，看每个人和斯内浦的桌子上摆满的酒壶当铃声打响时，哈利第一个冲出教室，准时开始他的中午饭，罗恩和荷米恩加了进来。天花板比早上变成更暗的灰色。雨滴鞭打着窗户。

　　“这真不公平，”荷米恩安慰地说，坐在哈利的左边吃羊肉馅饼。“你的药剂并不比高尔的差，当他把药剂放进酒壶时整个东西都碎了，他的礼服也着火了。”

　　“啊，是啊，”哈利说，朝他的盘子使劲瞪眼，“斯内浦从来没公平的对待过我。”

　　其他人都没回答。他们三个都知道斯内浦和哈利之间的敌意自从哈利来到霍格瓦彻就开始了。

　　“我想他今年也许会好一点，”荷米恩失望地说。“我的意思，你知道。”她十分小心的往四处看了一下；还有半打的空位在他们旁边当没人经过桌子。“现在他是凤凰令里的成员。”

　　“恶毒的伞菌不改变他们的处境，”罗恩贤能地说。“总之，我总想丹伯多不会相信斯内浦。什么证据能证明他不再为神秘人工作了？”

　　“我想丹伯多有足够的证据，尽管他不让你知道，罗恩。”荷米恩严厉地说。

　　“哦，闭嘴吧你，”荷米恩沉重地说，当罗恩张开嘴巴想要辩驳时。荷米恩和罗恩都楞住了，愤恨地看了看对方。“你们就不能休息一下吗？”哈利说“你们两个总有东西要吵，我就快要发疯了！”然后扔下他的羊肉馅饼，背起书包丢下他们坐在那里。

　　他三步并两步地走上大理石楼梯，经过许多去吃中午饭的学生。他还十分生气，罗恩和荷米恩不停的争吵使他十分愤怒。不管他们，他想，为什么他们不能停一下呢。不停地争吵。这已足够让任何人去撞墙。

　　他经过卡德马斯先生的一幅大画像时，卡德马斯先生拔出他的剑并凶狠地向哈利挥舞着，哈利忽略了他。

　　“回来，你这只卑鄙的狗！站住，打架！”卡德马斯先生用低沉的声音在盔甲后面大叫，但哈利只管走路，当卡德马斯先生试图跑到附近的一副画里跟上他时，被这副画的居民—一只巨大的，看起来很生气的猎狗阻止。

　　哈利剩余的时间独自坐在北塔的活板门底下。

　　结果，当铃声响起的时候，他是第一个爬上银色梯子到达西柏·特劳妮的教室的人。

　　在药剂课之后，占卜课是哈利最不喜欢的课，大概是因为特劳妮教授总在课上预言他的死亡。一个瘦瘦的女人，沉重的布帘和围巾，还有华丽的项链，她总是使哈利想起一些卑鄙的人，眼镜使她的眼睛显得很大。当哈利进来时，她正在她房间的小桌子上整理书，但灯光线太暗淡了，所以她没有注意到坐在阴影里的他。整个班用了5分钟才到齐。罗恩在活板门出现时，向四处小心的观察，看到哈利就笔直地朝他走来。

　　“荷米恩和我停止了争吵，”他说，在哈利旁边坐下。

　　“好，”哈利咕哝了一声。

　　“但她说她想如果你停止向我们发火会更好，”罗恩说。

　　“我没有—”

　　“我只是传话的，”罗恩说。“但我认为她是正确的。西姆斯和斯内浦怎么对待你不是我们的错。”

　　“我没说它—”

　　“今天真好，”特劳妮教授用她通常用的朦胧的，带着睡意的声音说，哈利感到厌烦和一些羞耻。“欢迎回到占卜课。我有，当然，看着你们的未来在假期里，我很欣慰的看到你们都安全的回到了霍格瓦彻，当然，我知道你们会的。”

　　“你们会在桌子上找到《梦的预言》这本书，梦的解释在未来是很重要的，而且在普通巫师等级考试中必考的。当然，普通巫师等级考试的通过与失败在占卜课上并不重要。如果你有慧眼，证书和成绩就不那么重要了，当然，校长希望你们通过考试，所以……”

　　她的声音慢慢地听不见了，特劳妮教授认为普通巫师等级考试在她的课上并不重要，因此不想提起。

　　“翻页，翻到入门这里，看看梦的预言是意思。然后组成小组，按书上说的解释对方的梦的意义。现在开始。”

　　这节课唯一的好处就是没有一点事情可以做。当他们读完这本书的入门那部分后，只剩下不到10分钟的时间讨论梦的意义。哈利和罗恩的桌子的旁边，迪安和纳威在一起，纳威正在诉说他的一个噩梦，一把巨大的剪刀上戴着他的祖母最好的帽子；哈利和罗恩只是阴沉的看了看对方。

　　“我从来不记得我的梦，”罗恩说，“你说一个。”

　　“你必须说一个，”哈利不耐烦地说。他不想告诉任何人他的梦，他很清楚的知道，他经常都梦到墓地意味着什么，他不需要罗恩或特劳妮教授或愚蠢的《梦的预言》来告诉他。

　　“好吧，我有一次晚上梦到我在玩魁地奇，”罗恩说，一边转着他的头去回忆。“你猜这意味着什么？”

　　“很可能你要被一个蜀葵或其他东西吃掉，”哈利说，很不感兴趣的翻着书。看《梦的预言》里的那些梦实在是无聊，而特劳妮教授给他们留的作业更加无味——记录下你这个月所做过的梦。当铃响起时，哈利和罗恩就开始下梯子，罗恩大声地抱怨着。

　　“你知道我们的作业有多少吗？宾斯要我们写一英尺半关于巨人战争的作文，斯内浦是一英尺关于月长石的用处，现在特劳妮要我们记录下一个月所做的梦！弗莱德和乔治说这年很难熬是非常对的。那个昂布瑞吉女人最好不要留给我们任何……”

　　当他们走进黑魔法防御术教室时，发现昂布瑞吉教授已经坐在教师的椅子上了，穿着毛绒绒的粉色的卡迪根式开襟羊毛衫并戴着天鹅绒的帽子。哈利看到她就想起了某些讨厌的家伙。

　　进教室的时候很安静；昂布瑞吉教授，好象很无知但又非常严厉的样子，让人不知道她将要做什么。

　　“下午好！”她说，当整个班都到齐并坐下后。一些人说了‘下午好’作回答。

　　“啧啧，”昂布瑞吉教授说。“这不管用，对吧？我希望你们再说一遍，请，重复‘下午好，昂布瑞吉教授’一次。下午好。”

　　“下午好，昂布瑞吉教授。”他们一起说道。

　　“这里，现在，”昂布瑞吉教授甜美地说。“这并不太难。拿走魔杖，拿出羽毛笔。”

　　大多数学生都忧闷地交换了眼光。‘拿走魔杖’这个命令从来没在任何一堂课上听到过。哈利把魔杖放回书包，拿出羽毛笔、墨水和羊皮纸。昂布瑞吉教授打开她的手提包，拿出她的魔杖，她的魔杖非常短，然后用它戳了一下黑板；一些字在黑板上出现：

　　防卫黑魔法

　　复习原理

　　“好，现在，你们的这门课程一直是破碎而不完整的，对吧？”昂布瑞吉教授礼貌地说。把脸转向教室。“经常地换老师，没上过魔法部赞同的课程，不幸的结果就是你们的成绩比普通巫师等级考试中所需要的成绩少很多。”

　　“你们会很高兴的知道，然而，这些问题现在将得到解决。今年我们会上正确的，有中心的，魔法部赞同的防卫魔法。请把这些抄下来。”

　　1理解防卫魔法的原则

　　2学习辨别在哪种情形下该用哪种防卫魔法

　　3学习在实际生活用的到的防卫魔法

　　一时间教室里都是用羽毛笔在羊皮纸上写东西的声音。当每个人都抄完昂布瑞吉教授的这3条课程目标时，她问到：“你们每个人都有一本《防卫魔法原理》的书吗？”

　　教室里发出一片低声的赞同声。

　　“我想我们应该再试一遍，”昂布瑞吉教授说。“当我问你们一个问题，我希望你们回答‘是的，昂布瑞吉教授’，或‘不是，昂布瑞吉教授’，所以，们每个人都有一本《防卫魔法原理》的书吗？”

　　“是的，昂布瑞吉教授。”教室响起这个声音。

　　“好，”昂布瑞吉教授说。“请翻到第5页，看‘第1章，初学者的基本原理’。没有任何噪音。”

　　昂布瑞吉教授离开黑板，在椅子上坐下。开始注意观察他们每个人。哈利翻他的《防卫魔法原理》到第5页然后开始看。

　　真是极端的无聊，就像听宾斯教授演讲一样。他觉得他的专心离开了他；很快，他就开始用许多分钟不停地读同样的一行。安静的几分钟过去了。在他的旁边，罗恩不自觉的把羽毛笔绕着手指转，不停地读同一个字。哈利望荷米恩那看了一下，然后他一下子就不再感到无聊了。荷米恩甚至没翻开她的《防卫魔法原理》，她正在一动不动地注视着昂布瑞吉教授。

　　哈利不记得什么时候荷米恩会忽略老师的命令，或只是翻开一本摆在她鼻子底下的书。哈利用询问的目光看着她，但她只是轻轻地摇了摇头表示她不在想怎么样去回答问题，然后继续注视昂布瑞吉教授，昂布瑞吉教授正在往其他方向看。

　　几分钟过去之后，当然，哈利不再只看荷米恩。他们要看的那一章是那么的乏味，以致越来越多的人开始注意荷米恩的沉默或看着昂布瑞吉教授的眼睛也不去看书。

　　当差不多一半的人都看着荷米恩时而没去看书时，昂布瑞吉教授似乎觉得不能再忽略这种情形了。

　　“你要问什么关于这一章的问题吗，亲爱的？”昂布瑞吉教授问荷米恩，仿佛她只注意到荷米恩。

　　“不是关于书的，不是，”荷米恩说。

　　“好吧，继续看书，”昂布瑞吉教授说，露出她的牙齿。“如果你有其他问题可以在课快结束时问我。”

　　“我有一个关于你的课程目标的问题，”荷米恩说。

　　昂布瑞吉教授抬起她的眼睛。

　　“恩，你的名字是？”

　　“荷米恩·格林佐”荷米恩说。

　　“好的，格林佐小姐，我想课程目标是非常清楚的，如果你仔细地读它们，”昂布瑞吉教授坚决地说。

　　“哦，我没有。”荷米恩坦率地说。“那上面没有写关于防卫魔咒的东西。”

　　当教室里的人转过头去看依然写在黑板上的那3条课程目标并对着它们皱眉头时，有一会短暂的静寂。

　　“使用防卫魔咒？”昂布瑞吉教授带着一点笑意说。“为什么，在我的课堂上需要你们使用防卫魔咒，格林佐小姐。你肯定不希望在课堂上受到攻击吧。”

　　“我们将不使用魔法？”罗恩大叫着说。

　　昂布瑞吉教授，依然笑着，转过身背对着他。哈利和荷米恩立刻举起他们的手。昂布瑞吉教授在提问荷米恩之前，她的眼睛在哈利身上停了一会。

　　“恩，格林佐小姐？你想问其他的问题吗？”

　　“是的，”荷米恩说。“你确定防御黑魔法的整个重点就是练习防卫魔咒吗？”

　　“你是一个魔法部门的教育专家吗，格林佐小姐？”昂布瑞吉教授用虚伪的甜美的声音说。

　　“不是，但是—”

　　“好的，恐怕你还没有资格来确认任何一个班的重点是什么。比你聪明，老的多的巫师已经给我们确定好了要学习什么。你将会安全，不冒险的方法学习防卫魔咒—”

　　“这有什么用？”哈利大声地说。“如果我们将受到攻击，这会一点用也—”

　　“手，波特先生！”昂布瑞吉教授用更大的声音说。

　　哈利把他的手往空气里一戳。再次，昂布瑞吉教授敏捷地转身离开，但现在更多的人举起了手。

　　“你的名字是什么？”昂布瑞吉教授向迪安说。

　　“迪安·多马”

　　“恩，多马先生？”

　　“那么，这就象哈利说的那样，对吗？”迪安说。“如果我们受到攻击，这就不会不危险了。”

　　“我说过了，”昂布瑞吉教授说，并对迪安做出一个故意刺激他的微笑，“你希望在课堂上受到攻击吗？”

　　“不，但是—”

　　昂布瑞吉教授打断他，“我并不想批评一件正在这个学校发生的事情。”她说，一个没有说服力的微笑浮现在她宽宽的嘴上，“但你已经揭穿了这个班上某些很不可靠的巫师，非常不可靠的—不用提起，”她险恶的笑了一下，“特别是那些混血的。”

　　“如果你说的是卢平教授，”迪恩变得生气了，“他是我们遇到的最好的——”

　　“闭嘴！多马先生！正如我说的，当你得知一些复杂的咒语时，而且不适合你年龄段的咒语可能会产生致命的效果。当你在其他时候遇到黑咒语时，你才会惊恐的相信我的话是对的。 ” “不，”荷米恩说道，“我们仅仅——”

　　“你的手并没举起，格林佐小姐！”

　　荷米恩举起她的手，昂布瑞吉教授转身离开她。

　　“依照我的理解，我的前任并不是仅仅在你们的面前使用了违法的咒语，事实上他把咒语施放在你们的身上。”

　　“好的，他变成一个狂人，不是么？”迪恩激烈的反驳，“提醒你，我们的负荷仍然很重。”

　　“你的手没举起，多马先生！”昂布瑞吉教授的声音发颤。“现在，学习魔法部的理论知识将足够使你通过你的考试，所有之后，是关于学校的一切。你的名字是？”她加了一句，注视着帕瓦蒂，那位手刚刚举起来的学生。

　　“帕瓦蒂·佩蒂尔。但巫师黑魔法防卫测试难道就不涉及一点实战经验吗？难道我们不应该假设去展示我们事实上所做的防卫咒语和事物么？”

　　“只要你学习的理论充足，时间够长，就没有理由不能在小心、仔细控制的条件下完成一个咒语。”昂布瑞吉轻视地说。

　　“在没有预先练习的情况下？”帕瓦蒂怀疑地说。“你是正在告诉我我们第一次施放魔法的时候是在考试期间么？”

　　“我重复一遍，只要你用足够长的时间学习到足够的理论——”

　　“那么好的理论将要走进真正的世界里？”哈利大声说道，他的手再次握在了半空中。

　　昂布瑞吉教授向上看了看。

　　“这是学校，波特先生，不是真正的世界。”她柔和地说。

　　“所以我们不需要去准备等待我们的战斗？”

　　“没有战斗等着我们，波特先生。”

　　“哦，是吗？”哈利说道，他在表面之下的心情，已经达到了沸点。

　　“你想要攻击那个儿童？你们自己？”昂布瑞吉教授用一种甜蜜而可怕的声音询问道。

　　“嗯，让我想想。”哈利用一种假装在深思的声音回答道，“或许是，伏地魔？”

　　罗恩开始喘气，拉文得·布朗发出了一声小小的尖叫，纳威从他的椅子上滑落下来。昂布瑞吉教授，却没畏缩。她冷酷地看着哈利，脸上露出一种满意的表情。“格兰芬多扣去10分。”

　　教室变得安静。每个人都在看昂布瑞吉教授或哈利。

　　“现在，让我把一些事情弄简单点。”

　　布瑞吉教授站起来并向他倾斜，她短而粗的手指在桌上呈八字张开。

　　“你告诉我一个黑暗的巫师复活了—”

　　“他没死，”哈利生气地说。“而且，他回来了！”

　　“波特—先生—你—已经—给你的—学院—丢了—10分—不要再—把事情—弄得更—糟糕了，”昂布瑞吉教授向他吼道但没看着他。“你向我们发出通知，一个黑暗巫师变得更强大了。这是个谎言。”

　　“这不是个谎言！”哈利说。“我看到他。我和他战斗过！”

　　“关禁闭，波特先生。”昂布瑞吉教授得意洋洋地说。“明天晚上。5点钟。我的办公室。我说过了，这是个谎言。魔法部担保你不会因为任何黑暗巫师而危险。如果你仍然担心，下课后的一小时可以向你解释。如果某些人向你撒谎说黑暗巫师重新诞生了，我很乐意听一听。我可以帮助你。我是你的朋友。现在，继续你们的阅读，第5页，‘初学者的基本原理’”

　　昂布瑞吉教授坐在她的桌子后面。哈利，却站起来。每个人都看着他；西姆斯一半是害怕，一半是入迷。

　　“哈利，别那样。”荷米恩低声地警告。用力拉他的袖子，但哈利甩开了她。

　　“这样，听你说的，塞德里克·迪戈里上学期死了，不对吗？”哈利问，他的声音发抖。

　　全班人都吸了一口气，，没人，除了罗恩和荷米恩，没听过哈利谈到塞德里克死的那晚发生过什么事。他们都急切地看着哈利和昂布瑞吉教授，昂布瑞吉教授已经抬起她的眼睛注视着哈利，不再微笑了。

　　“塞德里克·迪戈里的死是个悲惨的意外事故。”昂布瑞吉教授冷淡地说。

　　“那是个谋杀，”哈利说。他能感到自己在发抖。他刚刚告诉每个人这件事情，最少有30个正在热心聆听的同学。“伏地魔杀死了他，你知道的。”

　　昂布瑞吉教授的脸上没有任何表情了。有一会，哈利想她也许会朝自己尖叫。然后她用她最温和的、甜蜜的、象女孩一样的声音说：“到这里来，波特先生，亲爱的。”

　　哈利离开了他的椅子，大步地走从罗恩和荷米恩身旁走开并走到教师的桌子旁边。他能感受到整间教室的人都屏住呼吸。他太生气了以致于他一点也没注意到接下来发生了什么。

　　昂布瑞吉教授从她的手提包里拿出一卷粉色的羊皮纸，把它平铺在桌子上，然后把羽毛笔浸到墨水里接着就开始潦草地写东西。她把背隆起来，所以哈利看不到她在写什么。一分钟过去后，她卷起羊皮纸然后轻轻地敲她的魔杖，魔杖就把羊皮纸的接缝处粘合起来，使得哈利没法打开。

　　“把这个便笺给麦格教授，亲爱的，”昂布瑞吉教授说，并把羊皮纸给他。

　　他拿过它，没说一个字，转过身就走出了房间，甚至没再看一眼罗恩和荷米恩，猛的关上教室门。他在走廊里快速地走着，给麦格教授的便笺紧紧地抓在他手里，但在一个急转弯后突然碰到了皮皮鬼，一个有宽宽嘴巴的小男人正漂浮在他背后的空中，在墨水池上玩。

　　“为什么这个是小波特！”皮皮鬼咯咯笑着说。并把墙上弄得都是墨水。哈利向后跳了一下，怒骂着离开了路。

　　“滚开，皮皮鬼。”

　　“噢，想入非非就会暴躁。”皮皮鬼说。跟着哈利在走廊里走，在上面恶意的瞥视着他。“现在是什么时候了？我的小朋友？听到声音？看到幻想？说话—”皮皮鬼很大声的‘呸’了一下，“用舌头？”

　　“我说了，离开，让我一个人呆着！”哈利喊到。沿着最近的楼梯跑下去，但皮皮鬼沿着楼梯的扶栏滑了下去，跟着他。

　　“哦，很多人认为他在狂叫，小家伙，

　　但一些好心人认为他只是悲伤，

　　皮皮鬼知道得最多所以知道他发疯了—”

　　“闭嘴！”

　　一个在他左边的门突然打开，麦格教授从她的办公室出现了，看起来很冷酷还有点烦恼。

　　“你究竟在喊些什么，波特？”她厉声说，当皮皮鬼愉快的离开了视野。“为什么你不在教室里？”

　　“我被送来见你，”哈利僵硬地说。

　　“送？你的意思是什么，送？”

　　他拿出昂布瑞吉教授的便笺。麦格教授拿过来，皱眉头了，用她的魔杖扯裂它，铺平然后开始看。哈利在她看昂布瑞吉教授写的东西时观察了一下周围的情形。

　　“进来到这里，波特。”

　　他跟这她进去。门在他身后自动关上了。“好，”麦格教授说，围着他转，“这是真的吗？”

　　“什么是真的？”哈利问，打算更积极一些。

　　“教授？”哈利加上一句，想更礼貌些。

　　“你对昂布瑞吉教授大喊大叫是真的吗？”

　　“是的，”哈利说。

　　“你叫她说谎者？”

　　“是的。”

　　“你告诉她连名字都不能提起的人回来了？”

　　“是的。”

　　麦格教授在桌子后坐下，密切地看着他。然后她说：“吃个饼干吧，波特。”

　　“吃个—什么？”

　　“吃个饼干。”她不耐烦地重复了一遍，指着她桌子上一叠纸上的一罐方格罐头。“然后坐下。”

　　哈利曾经来过这里，当他刚开始加入魁地奇球队时。他坐在一张椅子上，吃了一片饼干。

　　麦格教授放下昂布瑞吉教授的便笺，然后很严肃地看着哈利。

　　“波特，你要当心一点。”

　　哈利吞下饼干然后注视着她。她的声音不象刚才那样了；它不再是强烈，严厉，新鲜的了；它变得消沉和忧虑。

　　“在昂布瑞吉教授的课上行为不端应该不只扣10分和关禁闭。”

　　“你是—”

　　“波特，用你通常的理智。”麦格教授严厉地说，突然变回她原来的样子。“你知道她是从哪里来的，你要知道她会报告给谁。”

　　下课的铃声响起。头顶上响起粗笨的声音—那是上百个学生在移动。

　　“这里说她将每个晚上都要给你关禁闭，明天开始。”麦格教授说，再次低头看昂布瑞吉教授的便笺。

　　“这个星期的每个晚上！”哈利重复道，十分惊骇。“但，教授，你不能—”

　　“不，我不能—”麦格教授无力地说。

　　“但—”

　　“她是你的老师还每个晚上给你关禁闭。你明天5点钟去她的房间，第一个。只要记住：跟在昂布瑞吉教授的身边。”

　　“但我是在说实话！”哈利说，非常愤怒。“伏地魔回来了，你知道他的；丹伯多教授知道他是—”

　　“天知道，波特！”麦格教授说，生气地整理了一下眼镜（她听到伏地魔这个名字时畏缩了一下）“你真的知道这是真的或谎言吗？控制一下你的脾气！”

　　她站了起来，鼻孔变大了但嘴唇却变薄了，哈利也站起来了。

　　“再吃一片饼干，”她急躁地说，向他指了一下罐头。

　　“不，谢谢，”哈利冷淡地说。

　　“别那么不好意思，”她严厉地说。

　　他拿了一片。

　　“你难到没听昂布瑞吉教授在开学第一次宴会上的演讲吗？”

　　“听了，”哈利说。“是的…她说…进步会被禁止或…好吧，它的意思是，魔法部打算干涉霍格瓦彻。”

　　麦格教授注视了他几分钟，然后吸了口气，离开桌子，为他打开门。

　　“好吧，我很高兴你听了荷米恩·格林佐的话。”她说，指着他让他离开她的办公室。

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