He had a very strange dream. He was walking through a forest, his Firebolt
over his shoulder, following something silvery-white. It was winding its way
through the trees ahead, and he could only catch glimpses of it between the
leaves. Anxious to catch up with it, he sped up, but as he moved faster, so
did his quarry. Harry broke into a run, and ahead he heard hooves gathering
speed. Now he was running flat out, and ahead he could hear galloping. Then
he turned a corner into a clearing and —
Harry woke as suddenly as though he'd been hit in the face. Disoriented in
the total darkness, he fumbled with his hangings, he could hear movements around
him, and Seamus Finnigan's voice from the other side of the room: “What's going
Harry thought he heard the dormitory door slam. At last finding the divide
in his curtains, he ripped them back, and at the same moment, Dean Thomas lit
Ron was sitting up in bed, the hangings torn from one side, a look of utmost
terror on his face.
“Black! Sirius Black! With a knife!”
“Here! Just now! Slashed the curtains! Woke me up!”
“You sure you weren't dreaming, Ron?” said Dean.
“Look at the curtains! I tell you, he was here!”
They all scrambled out of bed; Harry reached the dormitory door first, and
they sprinted back down the staircase. Doors opened behind them, and sleepy
voices called after them.
“What're you doing?”
The common room was lit with the glow of the dying fire, still littered with
the debris from the party. It was deserted.
“Are you sure you weren't dreaming, Ron?”
“I'm telling you, I saw him!”
“What's all the noise?”
“Professor McGonagall told us to go to bed!”
A few of the girls had come down their staircase, pulling or, dressing gowns
and yawning. Boys, too, were reappearing.
“Excellent, are we carrying on?” said Fred Weasley brightly.
“Everyone back upstairs!” said Percy, hurrying into the common room and pinning
his Head Boy badge to his pajamas as he spoke.
“Perce—Sirius Black!” said Ron faintly. “In our dormitory! With a knife!
Woke me up!”
The common room went very still.
“Nonsense!” said Percy, looking startled. “You had too much to eat, Ron—had
a nightmare —”
“I'm telling you —”
“Now, really, enough's enough!”
Professor McGonagall was back. She slammed the portrait behind her as she
entered the common room and stared furiously around.
“I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous!
Percy, I expected better of you!”
“I certainly didn't authorize this, Professor!” said Percy, puffing himself
up indignantly. “I was just telling them all to get back to bed! My brother
Ron here had a nightmare —”
“IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!” Ron yelled. “PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK
WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!”
Professor McGonagall stared at him.
“Don't be ridiculous, Weasley, how could he possibly have gotten through
the portrait hole?”
“Ask him!” said Ron, pointing a shaking finger at the back of Sir Cadogan's
picture. “Ask him if he saw —”
Glaring suspiciously at Ron, Professor McGonagall pushed the Portrait back
open and went outside. The whole common room listened with bated breath. “Sir
Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?” “Certainly, good lady!”
cried Sir Cadogan.
There was a stunned silence, both inside and outside the common room.
“You—you did?” said Professor McGonagall. “But—but the password!”
“He had 'em!” said Sir Cadogan proudly. “Had the whole week's, my lady! Read
'em off a little piece of paper!”
Professor McGonagall pulled herself back through the portrait hole to face
the stunned crowd. She was white as chalk.
“Which person,” she said, her voice shaking, “which abysmally foolish person
wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?”
There was utter silence, broken by the smallest of terrified squeaks. Neville
Longbottom, trembling from head to fluffy slippered toes, raised his hand slowly
into the air.
No one in Gryffindor Tower slept that night. They knew that the castle was
being searched again, and the whole House stayed awake in the common room, waiting
to hear whether Black had been caught. Professor McGonagall came back at dawn,
to tell them that he had again escaped.
Throughout the day, everywhere they went they saw signs of tighter security;
Professor Flitwick could be seen teaching the front doors to recognize a large
picture of Sirius Black; Filch was suddenly bustling up and down the corridors,
boarding up everything from tiny cracks in the walls to mouse holes. Sir Cadogan
had been fired. His portrait had been taken back to its lonely landing on the
seventh floor, and the Fat Lady was back. She had been expertly restored, but
was still extremely nervous, and had agreed to return to her job only on condition
that she was given extra protection. A bunch of surly security trolls had been
hired to guard her. They paced the corridor in a menacing group, talking in
grunts and comparing the size of their clubs.
Harry couldn't help noticing that the statue of the one-eyed witch on the
third floor remained unguarded and unblocked. It seemed that Fred and George
had been right in thinking that they—and now Harry, Ron, and Hermione—were the
only ones who knew about the hidden passageway within it.
“D'you reckon we should tell someone?” Harry asked Ron.
“We know he's not coming in through Honeyduke's,” said Ron dismissively.
“We'd've heard if the shop had been broken into.”
Harry was glad Ron took this view. If the one-eyed witch was boarded up too,
he would never be able to go into Hogsmeade again.
Ron had become an instant celebrity. For the first time in his life, people
were paying more attention to him than to Harry, and it was clear that Ron was
rather enjoying the experience. Though still severely shaken by the night's
events, he was happy to tell anyone who asked what had happened, with a wealth
“...I was asleep, and I heard this ripping noise, and I thought it was in
my dream, you know? But then there was this draft... I woke up and one side
of the hangings on my bed had been pulled down... I rolled over... and I saw
him standing over me... like a skeleton, with loads of filthy hair ...holding
this great long knife, must've been twelve inches... and he looked at me, and
I looked at him, and then I yelled, and he scampered.
“Why, though?” Ron added to Harry as the group of secondyear girls who had
been listening to his chilling tale departed. “Why did he run?”
Harry had been wondering the same thing. Why had Black, having got the wrong
bed, not silenced Ron and proceeded to Harry? Black had proved twelve years
ago that he didn't mind murdering innocent people, and this time he had been
facing five unarmed boys, four of whom were asleep.
“He must've known he'd have a job getting back out of the castle once you'd
yelled and woken people up,” said Harry thoughtfully. “He'd've had to kill the
whole House to get back through the portrait hole... then he would' ve met the
Neville was in total disgrace. Professor McGonagall was so furious with him
she had banned him from all future Hogsmeade visits, given him a detention,
and forbidden anyone to give him the password into the tower. Poor Neville was
forced to wait. outside the common room every night for somebody to let him
in, while the security trolls leered unpleasantly at him. None of these punishments,
however, came close to matching the one his grandmother had in store for him.
Two days after Black's break-in, she sent Neville the very worst thing a Hogwarts
student could receive over breakfast—a Howler.
The school owls swooped into the Great Hall carrying the mail as usual, and
Neville choked as a huge barn owl landed in front of him, a scarlet envelope
clutched in its beak. Harry and Ron, who were sitting opposite him, recognized
the letter as a Howler at once—Ron had got one from his mother the year before.
“Run for it, Neville,” Ron advised.
Neville didn't need telling twice. He seized the envelope, and holding it
before him like a bomb, sprinted out of the hall, while the Slytherin table
exploded with laughter at the sight of him. They heard the Howler go off in
the entrance hall—Neville's grandmother's voice, magically magnified to a hundred
times its Usual volume, shrieking about how he had brought shame on the whole
Harry was too busy feeling sorry for Neville to notice immediately that he
had a letter too. Hedwig got his attention by nipping him sharply on the wrist.
“Ouch! Oh—thanks, Hedwig.”
Harry tore open the envelope while Hedwig helped herself to some of Neville's
cornflakes. The note inside said:
Dear Harry and Ron, How Abut having tea with me this afternoon 'round six?
I'll come collect you from the castle. WAIT FOR ME IN THE ENTRANCE HALL; YOU'RE
NOT ALLOWED OUT ON YOUR OWN. Cheers, Hagrid
“He probably wants to hear all about Black!” said Ron.
So at six o'clock that afternoon, Harry and Ron left Gryffindor Tower, passed
the security trolls at a run, and headed down to the entrance hall.
Hagrid was already waiting for them.
“All right, Hagrid!” said Ron. “S'pose you want to hear about Saturday night,
“I've already heard all abou' it,” said Hagrid, opening the front doors and
leading them outside.
“Oh,” said Ron, looking slightly put out.
The first thing they saw on entering Hagrid's cabin was Buckbeak, who was
stretched out on top of Hagrid's patchwork quilt, his enormous wings folded
tight to his body, enjoying a large plate of dead ferrets. Averting his eyes
from this unpleasant sight, Harry saw a gigantic, hairy brown suit and a very
horrible yellow-and-orange tie hanging from the top of Hagrid's wardrobe door.
“What are they for, Hagrid?” said Harry.
“Buckbeaks case against the Committee fer the Disposal o' Dangerous Creatures,”
said Hagrid. “This Friday. Him an' me'll be goin' down ter London together.
I've booked two beds on the Knight Bus...”
Harry felt a nasty pang of guilt. He had completely forgotten that Buckbeak's
trial was so near, and judging by the uneasy look on Ron's face, he had too.
They had also forgotten their promise about helping him prepare Buckbeak's defense;
the arrival of the Firebolt had driven it clean out of their minds.
Hagrid poured them tea and offered them a plate of Bath buns but they knew
better than to accept; they had had too much experience with Hagrid's cooking.
I got somethin' ter discuss with you two,” said Hagrid, sitting himself between
them and looking uncharacteristically serious.
“What?” said Harry.
“Hermione,” said Hagrid.
“What about her?” said Ron.
“She's in a righ' state, that's what. She's bin comin' down ter visit me
a lot since Chris'mas. Bin feelin' lonely. Firs' yeh weren' talking to her because
o' the Firebolt, now yer not talkin' to her because her cat —”
“— ate Scabbers!” Ron interjected angrily.
“Because her cat acted like all cats do,” Hagrid continued doggedly. “She's
cried a fair few times, yeh know. Goin' through a rough time at the moment.
Bitten off more'n she can chew, if yeh ask me, all the work she's tryin' ter
do. Still found time ter help me with Buckbeak's case, mind... She's found some
really good stuff fer me... reckon he'll stand a good chance now...”
“Hagrid, we should've helped as well—sorry —” Harry began awkwardly.
“I'm not blamin' yeh!” said Hagrid, waving Harry's apology aside. “Gawd knows
yeh've had enough ter be gettin' on with. I've seen yeh practicin' Quidditch
ev'ry hour o' the day an' night—but I gotta tell yeh, I thought you two'd value
yer friend more'n broomsticks or rats. Tha's all.”
Harry and Ron exchanged uncomfortable looks.
“Really upset, she was, when Black nearly stabbed yeh, Ron. She's got her
heart in the right place, Hermione has, an' you two not talkin' to her —”
“If she'd just get rid of that cat, I'd speak to her again!” Ron said angrily.
“But she's still sticking up for it! It's a maniac, and she won't hear a word
“Ah, well, people can be a bit stupid abou' their pets,” said Hagrid wisely.
Behind him, Buckbeak spat a few ferret bones onto Hagrid's pillow.
They spent the rest of their visit discussing Gryffindor's improved chances
for the Quidditch Cup. At nine o'clock, Hagrid walked them back up to the castle.
A large group of people was bunched around the bulletin board when they returned
to the common room.
“Hogsmeade, next weekend!” said Ron, craning over the heads to read the new
notice. “What d'you reckon?” he added quietly to Harry as they went to sit down.
“Well, Filch hasn't done anything about the passage into Honeydukes...” Harry
said, even more quietly.
“Harry!” said a voice in his right ear. Harry started and looked around at
Hermione, who was sitting at the table right behind them and clearing a space
in the wall of books that had been hiding her.
“Harry, if you go into Hogsmeade again... I'll tell Professor McGonagall
about that map!” said Hermione.
“Can you hear someone talking, Harry?” growled Ron, not looking at Hermione.
“Ron, how can you let him go with you? After what Sirius Black nearly did
to you! I mean it, I'll tell —”
“So now you're trying to get Harry expelled!” said Ron furiously. “Haven't
you done enough damage this year?”
Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but with a soft hiss, Crookshanks leapt
onto her lap. Hermione took one frightened look at the expression on Ron's face,
gathered up Crookshanks, and hurried away toward the girls' dormitories.