



In a last-ditch attempt to cheer Ron up, Harry persuaded him to come along to the Gryffindor team's final practice before the Ravenclaw match, so that he could have a ride on the Firebolt after they'd finished. This did seem to take Ron's mind off Scabbers for a moment ("Great! Can I try and shoot a few goals on it?") so they set off for the Quidditch field together.

"What about Dumbledore, Hagrid?" said Harry.

"Oh no," said Hermione, looking very disappointed. "I've already finished it!"

"Right," said George briskly. "Don't forget to wipe it after you've used it or anyone can read it," Fred said warningly.

"What was the point waking me up?" the Fat Lady called grumpily after him as he walked away.


"What's wrong with him?"

He told them all about the goblet. Ron's mouth fell open.

"Hagrid, please!" said Professor McGonagall. "Keep your voice down!"

Harry didn't say anything. He took a deep breath as relief seeped through him; he had been sure for a moment that those eyes had belonged to the Grim. They set off for the castle once more. slightly ashamed of his moment of panic, Harry didn't say anything to Ron -- nor did he look left or right until they had reached the well-lit entrance hall.

"Do watch where you're going, Potter!"


"Harry?" said Ron's voice uncertainly.

Resigned to the fact that he would be the only third year staying behind again, Harry borrowed a copy of Which Broomstick from Wood, and decided to spend the day reading up on the different makes. He had been riding one of the school brooms at team practice, an ancient Shooting Star, which was very slow and jerky; he definitely needed a new broom of his own.


Ron, however, cleared his throat significantly, and pointed to a notice pasted on the inside of the sweetshop door.





"Oh, shut up," Harry yawned.


"I don't know," said Hermione pensively. "But I really hope Professor Lupin gets better soon...."


Next he saw another pair of feet, wearing sparkly turquoise high heels, and heard a woman's voice. "A small gillywater --",


Ten minutes later, he came to the foot of some worn stone steps, which rose out of sight above him. Careful not to make any noise, Harry began to climb. A hundred steps, two hundred steps, he lost count as he climbed, watching his feet.... Then, without warning, his head hit something hard.;