The Serpent Of Lord Voldemort

— CHAPTER FIVE —

Ferrets and the Grim

After last term's nightmarish ending and the extremely stressful events of the holidays, returning to the normal daily routine at Hogwarts proved something of a shock to Harry's system. He had been so certain for so many weeks that he was going to die fighting Voldemort, that it was difficult for him to get on with the business of ordinary life. Lessons and homework and the upcoming O.W.Ls simply didn't seem as important as they used to do.

Harry had trouble concentrating in class and on several occasions forgot either books or homework in Gryffindor Tower. Hermione began reminding him to check his bag each morning, an anxious note in her voice. Madam Pomfrey never failed to intercept him before breakfast with her foul Wizard Tonic, and every time he passed Cho Chang in the corridors, it brought back painful memories of Cedric Diggory's death.

But things could have been much worse. No officers of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol showed up to arrest Harry, Hagrid or Dumbledore, nor was Harry's reception from his fellow students as chilly as he'd feared. Dumbledore's warming pan story was deemed so ridiculous that it had to be true, and served to allay a great deal of the suspicion with which Harry had previously been regarded.

One person who was not at all mollified, however, was Professor Snape. He held Harry back after the first Potions lesson of the year to give him a talking to. Snape was incensed that a whole summer had been wasted searching for Harry and considered Harry himself entirely to blame for this.

'Everything that has happened to you has been your own fault,' Snape spat. 'You cheated at the Triwizard Tournament, you lied to your godmother and I know you stole Mr Malfoy's snake!'

Harry couldn't manage to feel properly angry at this. He thought of Snape, fourteen years younger, plotting strategy with his father, and wondered if Snape had been one of the Death Eaters he'd heard being tortured in Voldemort's study. Baffled and frustrated by Harry's lack of reaction, Snape finished his rant by informing Harry that his potion-brewing would embarrass a first-year, and assigned him a six-foot long essay on the use of human blood in Dark potions, to be handed in to him in two weeks time.

Malfoy was likewise convinced that Harry had taken the snake. He shot Harry murderous glowers whenever they encountered one another. Fred and George, noticing this, congratulated Harry on finding such a superb way of winding Malfoy up. 'Course, it's not nearly as good as what we've got planned for him ...' smirked Fred, but neither twin would say exactly what that was.

Nor was Snape the only teacher dishing out loads of extra work. Most of them evidently shared Professor McGonagall's wish that the fifth-years focus on preparing for their O.W.Ls. Hermione threw herself into this endeavour wholeheartedly, drawing up elaborate timetables to account for every hour of the next nine months.

Ron, on the other hand, was mainly interested in Quidditch. He was badgering Angelina to set a date for their first practice and dragging Harry out onto the pitch of evening to throw the Quaffle for him to catch. When Hermione grumbled about this frivolous squandering of valuable revision time, Ron told her, 'Hagrid said he needed fresh air.'

Maybe Harry and Ron should have invited Hagrid to join them. Hagrid was in a thoroughly depressed mood. The Ministry of Magic had forbidden him to bring any creature of higher classification than XX (harmless / may be domesticated) into the Hogwarts grounds, which had taken all the joy out of teaching Care of Magical Creatures for him. He made an obvious effort to be kind and encouraging to Harry, but was gloomy and morose around practically everyone else, and frightened the entire class Harry's first day back by exploding at Draco Malfoy.

They had been collecting their things to leave after a very wet lesson on Augureys when Hagrid's great bellow of rage stopped them in their tracks.

'WHAT, SO YEH CAN USE 'EM FER SOME KIND O' HORRIBLE DARK MAGIC?'

Everyone turned to stare. Hagrid, looking twice as big as normal, towered over the quaking Malfoy, who made some sort of whimpering protest.

'Don' give me that!' snarled Hagrid. 'Yer whole family's a viper's nest o' Dark wizards, always have been! An' if anyone turns up dead of snakebite, I'll know what ter tell Magical Law Enforcement!'

Malfoy blanched at these words, as well he should have. He set off for the castle at top speed. Harry, whose ears had pricked at the mention of snakebite, sidled over to Hagrid.

'What did Malfoy want?' he said.

'Wanted me ter teach him how ter catch snakes,' said Hagrid, still breathing hard.

'Oh,' said Harry. 'You won't, will you?'

'O' course not,' growled Hagrid.

Harry was only partly reassured by this. He didn't much fancy the idea of Malfoy laying traps for him, even without Hagrid's assistance -- he might need to hide as a snake again. Even more worrying was the possibility that Malfoy, deprived of his serpent, was hatching some new plot against Hagrid. As he headed up the lawn with Ron and Hermione, Harry resolved to keep a closer eye on Malfoy in future.

*

That night at dinner, Malfoy and Professor Snape walked into the Great Hall together. The pair of them cast identical looks of loathing in Harry's direction before continuing on to the staff table. They made a beeline for Hagrid, who was seated in his usual spot at the far end of the room. Harry couldn't hear what was being said, but when the conversation was over Hagrid's expression had grown noticeably grumpier. Snape, however, appeared well satisfied, and Malfoy only slightly less so.

Harry, Ron and Hermione caught up with Hagrid as he was exiting the Hall after the meal.

'What were you and Snape talking about?' Harry asked him.

Hagrid looked disgusted. 'Ruddy Malfoy's pet snake's run off. Snape was askin' me ter help find it.'

'And you said you would?' said Ron, incredulous.

'Yeah, well -- it disappeared from the Hogwarts Express. Tha' makes it the school's responsibility, an' I am Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Snape says Dumbledore knows about it, so I reckon it's OK. I'll teach Malfoy how ter make Snake Baskets, can' do any harm with them ...'

'Snake Baskets?' Hermione said curiously.

'Baskets made out o' snake-grass,' Hagrid explained, 'an' yeh put in other stuff ter attract 'em. Don' worry, they won' be on the exam.' The ghost of a smile showed through his bristling beard. 'No need fer the rest of you ter bother with 'em. I'll jus' have him come down to me hut one evenin' --'

'Let us come too,' said Harry swiftly. At Hagrid's surprised look, he hurried on, 'Malfoy may be trying to get you in trouble again. If that snake bites him or something, we can be witnesses it wasn't your fault. And -- and Malfoy's saying I'm the one who stole it. I need to -- to clear my name.'

'Well, if yeh really wan' to,' said Hagrid dubiously. 'Can' start straigh' away, though. Hogsmeade apothecary'll have ter order the snake-grass specially. I'll let yeh know when it gets here ...'

*

In spite of Harry's misgivings as to what Malfoy might be up to, the next week and a half saw a gradual improvement in both his spirits and his attentiveness. He was feeling particularly pleased with himself Tuesday night at dinner. He had finally persuaded Madam Pomfrey to let him off his morning dose of Wizard Tonic, he had correctly answered all Professor Flitwick's questions on enchanting objects in Charms and, while the cooking at Hogwarts had always been good, it tasted more wonderful than ever after a summer of nothing but frogs.

Harry had just demolished a helping of roast chicken and was starting on the buttered peas when outraged cries from the other side of the Great Hall caused him to look up from his plate. Something massive, black and shaggy stood atop the Slytherin table amidst splattered food and overturned goblets. Most of the Slytherins were scrambling to get away from it; a few were drawing their wands, but before they could do anything, the beast gathered itself up and jumped to the Ravenclaw table.

'Sirius!' gasped Harry, getting up so rapidly that he almost knocked over his chair.

Luckily his voice was drowned out by a long, high, panic-stricken wail from Lavender Brown.

'The Grim, it's come for us, we're all going to die!'

At that moment, Sirius spotted Harry. He let out a series of thundering barks and traversed the Hufflepuff table in two enormous bounds, students fleeing in his wake. Reaching the Gryffindor table, he hopped to the floor and hurled himself on Harry. Harry clutched at the dog's thick black fur to keep from being bowled over and sat down heavily. Sirius placed his paws (which were larger than most men's hands) on Harry's shoulders. He licked Harry's face and snuffled his hair, giving small contented yips. His tail lashed the air ecstatically.

'I missed you too, Snuffles,' Harry grinned, patting Sirius on the head.

'That will be enough of that,' said a cold voice.

Professor Snape had managed to shove his way through the mass of people crowding the staff table in an effort to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the supposed Grim. He pointed his wand at Sirius and a lead and collar flew out, fastening itself around the dog's neck.

'Come along, Snuffles, we're going to the Headmaster's office.'

Snape gave the lead a hard jerk. The huge dog didn't budge. It turned its head slowly and growled, a low, menacing sound that filled the Hall and raised the hairs on the back of even Harry's neck.

'I don't think he likes you,' said Harry. 'Here, why don't you let me take him --'

'I think not, Potter,' sneered Snape and changed into a ferret.

'Professor Snape?' said Harry.

For a mad instant Harry thought Professor Moody had returned to Hogwarts, but a quick scan of the Great Hall revealed no sign of him. Nor did Ron or Hermione appear to be responsible; they seemed as nonplussed at Snape's transformation as Harry.

Sirius lowered his head to sniff at the erstwhile Snape. The ferret's fur (greasy and matted though it was) stood on end. It laid back its ears, hissed and leapt. Sirius drew back just in time. The ferret's yellowish teeth snapped shut less than an inch short of his nose. Then Sirius pounced. He seized the ferret by the scruff of its neck, clambered onto the Gryffindor table and began jumping back across the Hall.

'Snuffles!' yelled Harry. 'Bring it back!'

Sirius, now on the threshold, glanced over his shoulder, wagged his tail and vanished. Harry looked frantically about the room. Hundreds of petrified students were bunched at either end, trapping the teachers at the High Table and blocking the path to the doors. His godfather hated Snape, but surely he wouldn't eat him?

Harry decided he couldn't take the chance. Dropping to his hands and knees, he crawled awkwardly under the house tables, wishing he dared turn into a snake to slither across the flagged stones. Once inside the Entrance Hall, Harry could hear the clanking of a chain being dragged up the marble staircase towards the second floor.

He found Sirius sitting beside the stone gargoyle in front of Dumbledore's office, the enraged ferret still wriggling in his jaws. Sirius eyed Harry expectantly. His tail swept the floor. Harry briefly considered trying to take the ferret away from the him, but judging by the vigour with which the transformed Snape was thrashing and snarling, he had been in no way harmed by his precipitous abduction, and anyway, Harry didn't have his dragon-hide gloves on him.

'Canary Creams,' he said, and the gargoyle hopped aside. Harry and Sirius stepped onto the moving stairs. When they reached the top, Harry knocked on the polished oak door. Dumbledore's voice bade him enter.

'Ah, Sirius,' said Dumbledore. 'You're late. Er -- what's that you've got there?'

'It's Professor Snape,' said Harry. 'He turned into a ferret at dinner, I don't know why. Sirius caught him and carried him here.'

'On the chair, Sirius,' said Dumbledore calmly.

Sirius dropped the ferret on a chair near the desk. Dumbledore waved his wand and Professor Snape reappeared.

'Black!' he spat, twisting around to glare at the dog.

With a small pop, Sirius changed back into a man.

'I didn't do it,' he laughed, unbuckling the collar, which had remained on his neck.

'Potter!' snarled Snape, rounding on Harry.

'I didn't do it either!' Harry protested, then had a sudden awful idea who might have done.

Snape must have seen the guilt on his face. 'Don't lie to me, Potter,' he hissed, rising from the chair to loom above Harry.

There was a deep, rumbling growl. A dog once more, Sirius crouched at Harry's side, teeth bared, poised to spring at Snape should he come any closer.

'Sirius, that will do!' said Dumbledore sharply. He fixed his piercing blue eyes on Harry. 'Harry, if you know anything about this incident, I ask that you tell me now. I would prefer not to waste time searching for non-existent plots by Voldemort if there is another explanation.'

Harry gulped. The last thing he wanted was to shop Fred and George; if they really were behind Snape's transformation, they would undoubtedly be expelled. But when Dumbledore put it that way, Harry couldn't refuse to answer him.

'I don't -- know anything,' he said miserably. 'But your password -- "Canary Creams" --' Harry turned to Snape. 'Did you have a cake or a sweet from someone before dinner?'

It seemed a safe question. Fred and George were not sufficiently foolhardy to give hexed food to Snape in person, nor was Snape stupid enough to eat anything the Weasley twins offered him. If, indeed, it had been Fred and George -- other people could enchant puddings.

'The Cauldron Cakes!' said Snape.

In three strides he was out the door and pelting down the staircase.

'I'll be back!' his voice floated up at them.

'That's got rid of him,' grinned Sirius. Then in a more serious tone he said, 'Harry, where have you been? And why didn't you tell Mrs Figg the rest of your family had gone to Majorca?'

'Er --' Harry looked at Dumbledore.

'He's your godfather,' said Dumbledore. 'He should know the truth.'

So Harry told Sirius about being the serpent of Lord Voldemort. 'I didn't know the Dursleys had broken Dumbledore's spell by going away, or that Mrs Figg was my godmother,' he finished. 'I thought she was just another Muggle.'

'Your aunt and uncle never told you Mrs Figg was your godmother?' said Sirius. 'But -- why? I mean, I can see why they wouldn't want to tell you about me, but I'd thought they were friends with Arabella?'

'Well, they couldn't have known she was my godmother, could they have?' said Harry. 'Uncle Vernon didn't believe I had a godfather until I showed him your letter, and if they'd realised there was a witch living two streets away ... I suppose they couldn't very well have gone to the police, but they wouldn't have stayed in Privet Drive. They'd've -- sold the house and moved to a different suburb.'

'Harry's relations are terrified of magic,' explained Dumbledore, 'and I'm afraid I'm somewhat to blame for it. They raised Harry as a Muggle, not telling him anything about his parents or Voldemort or the wizarding world. I imagine they thought they were protecting him. When the letters from Hogwarts began arriving at their house, they took Harry and went on the run. I had assumed that the post was being intercepted. I sent Hagrid to deliver one by hand and he only alarmed them all the more. Had I known, I would have gone myself.' Dumbledore gave a heavy sigh. 'I should have realised ... losing a sister at such an early age, in such an appalling manner, would be enough to turn any Muggle against magic.'

'It wasn't your fault!' said Harry hotly. 'The Dursleys have always hated magic. And Aunt Petunia wasn't upset that Voldemort killed my mum. She said she was a freak and she'd got what she deserved for becoming a witch!'

'Your aunt said that?' said Sirius weakly.

'Yeah, when Hagrid brought me my letter.'

'Harry, sometimes when people are angry or frightened, they say things they don't mean,' said Dumbledore gently.

Before Harry could inform Dumbledore that he was certain Aunt Petunia had meant every word, Sirius spoke up. 'You really think they didn't know Arabella was his godmother? I know they weren't at the christening -- wizarding world wasn't all that safe for Muggles then -- but surely Lily would have written them?'

'I don't believe they did,' said Dumbledore thoughtfully. 'Unfortunately, Harry is most likely correct in his estimation of their reaction had they done so. It's odd they didn't hear about it from Lily, but things were so unsettled for her and James at the time ...'

Harry didn't think this was odd at all. If he ever had a child, the last person he'd send word to of its christening would be Dudley Dursley.

'I shall have to warn Arabella not to mention it to them,' Dumbledore went on. 'Now that Harry knows, there isn't much point and even with the protection on his aunt and uncle, we need her able to keep an eye on them. Arabella quite likes Mrs Dursley -- it would be a pity to end their friendship unnecessarily.'

Harry gave a snort. It didn't surprise him in the least that Mrs Figg liked Aunt Petunia, the way his aunt smarmed up to her. There was no one else the Dursleys could risk leaving Harry with. Should anything funny happen whilst he was at Mrs Figg's, everyone in the neighbourhood already thought she was mad. For this reason, they were careful to stay on her good side. Aunt Petunia (who detested animals) had once gone so far as to pat Mr Paws. She'd washed her hands in carbolic for five whole minutes when she and Harry got back to number four.

'The spell's working again?' said Sirius.

'Now that Harry is here, we can bring it up to full strength,' said Dumbledore.

'Will he have to leave Hogwarts?' asked Sirius, looking tense.

'No,' said Dumbledore, 'it can be done at a distance.'

'And you're positive what you're doing will work?' Sirius demanded.

'Yes,' said Dumbledore patiently. 'We can discuss the details ... but it will be rather dull. Perhaps Harry would like to return to his meal?'

'Oh -- right,' said Harry.

'I'll see you after dinner,' called Sirius as Harry left the office.

But when Harry got back the Great Hall, he found it utterly deserted. Harry gazed bemusedly at the abandoned tables for several moments. Then, not knowing what else to do, he headed back up the marble staircase for Gryffindor Tower.

The entire house seemed to be gathered in common room, chattering excitedly. Fred and George waved frantically from the table in the corner that they and Ron were sharing. Several chairs away, Hermione sat tight-lipped and glowering, her arms folded angrily.

'Where've you been, Harry?' said Fred. 'You missed all the fun!'

'What fun?' said Harry. 'Why'd everyone leave dinner so soon?'

'The teachers sent us to our dormitories while they tracked down the last of the Slytherins,' said George.

'The Slytherins?' said Harry. 'What have they done now?'

'The Slytherins,' said Hermione, her voice trembling with fury, 'haven't done anything!'

Harry listened in mounting astonishment as she explained what had transpired.

Following Harry's departure, everyone in the Great Hall had stood frozen with shock, until two events broke the stillness.

Lavender Brown let out another petrified moan.

'Oooooooh, Professor Snape! The Grim's taken his soul!'

Then the Slytherins began turning into ferrets too.

'Nobody realised what was going on,' said Hermione. 'Snape had vanished, then other people started to disappear, and then there were all these crawly things underfoot. The four houses were all packed together, so it wasn't obvious just the Slytherins were affected. Everyone was terrified they'd be next.'

All-out bedlam had ensued. Students screamed and pushed and fought for cover under the staff table. (In spite of the disappearances, no one was willing to flee the Hall with a Grim on the loose somewhere outside.)

Miraculously, none of the transformed Slytherins were trampled, in no small part thanks to Hermione's quick thinking. She and Ron had been the only people to remain at the house tables and thus had an unobstructed view of the rest of the Hall. When she saw the ferrets, Hermione put two and two together, and performed a Mass Hover Charm ('Mobiliferrets!') to lift them above the fray.

The sight of an army of ferrets suspended in mid-air beneath the floating candles had by its sheer strangeness quieted most of the students down. At around this point, Professor Snape came charging in.

'Look, it's Professor Snape!' cried Ginny Weasley. 'Harry's saved him from the Grim!'

It was a mark of how rattled people were that a ragged cheer went up. Few of them would normally have been pleased to see Snape back, particularly wearing such a surpassingly wrathful expression on his face. After that, the teachers were soon able to restore order and return the Slytherins to their proper shapes.

Snape immediately confronted Fred and George, who admitted to having produced a batch of Ferret Fudge but denied putting it on the Slytherins' Cauldron Cakes.

'We made it to sell,' said Fred indignantly. 'It cost us our whole summers' pocket money for ingredients.'

'Then Fred went and left the box in a passageway, and when we came back for it, it was gone,' George said in an aggrieved tone. ('Which was true,' he told Harry later in the common room. 'We left it in the kitchen corridor near the painting of the fruit-bowl with a note saying Chocolate Icing -- Slytherin's Birthday, and when we came back next morning, it was gone.')

Nonetheless, Professor McGonagall's fury was extreme.

'Never in all my time as Head have Gryffindor students so utterly disgraced the house!' she snarled. 'If I had the slightest shred of evidence you did this deliberately, you'd be packed and waiting for the Hogwarts Express this very minute!'

She took fifty points from Gryffindor off each of them, and fifty more off Lavender Brown for her role in causing the furore. She also gave Fred and George detention every evening for the next month. Students at Hogwarts often spoke in jest of receiving such a punishment, but this was the first time Harry had heard of it actually being administered. Hermione was awarded fifty points for her heroic rescue of the Slytherins, but even so, this early in the term, Gryffindor's house points were left well in the negative numbers.

Snape was convinced that Harry, Ron and Hermione had been in on the joke. He had bitterly protested Hermione's fifty points. The only reason she had managed to keep her head, he asserted, was because she knew about the Ferret Fudge in advance.

'I didn't panic because I'm not stupid enough to believe in Grims!' Hermione retorted. 'It's Professor Trelawney's fault, she's been scaring people with them for years. You should take fifty points off her!' (Professor McGonagall plainly deeply regretted that this was not feasible.)

In any case, Snape had little time to argue. The ferrets closest to the doors had bolted before Hermione's spell took effect, and needed to be rounded up before they could come to any harm. The remaining students were ordered back to their dormitories to keep them out of the way.

That had been half an hour ago. Hermione was still in a towering rage at Fred and George.

'It wasn't funny!' she said fiercely. 'Someone could have died!'

'Some Slytherin,' muttered Fred. 'No great loss there.'

'How can you joke about that,' said Hermione quietly, 'after what happened last year?'

This wiped the smile off Harry's face -- up to then he'd found the notion of the whole of Slytherin house being changed into ferrets highly entertaining. Even Fred and George had the grace to look guilty.

'The Slytherins would've been perfectly safe if that Grim hadn't showed up,' said George defensively. 'How were we supposed to know that would happen?'

'D'you think any of them would have cared if Harry'd got it along with Cedric?' said Fred darkly. 'You saw what they were like at the Leaving Feast. We wanted to pay them back for You-Know-Who murdering Harry this summer.'

'Which he hadn't done,' said Hermione coldly.

George brushed this aside. 'It was too good a plan to call off. We'd already made the Ferret Fudge, and Slytherin's birthday was the perfect opportunity. The Slytherins get Cauldron Cakes in their common room after classes, Higgs has boasted about it since we were first-years --'

'How come we don't get Cauldron Cakes in our common room on Gryffindor's birthday?' Ron interrupted.

Hermione turned her scowl on him. She was almost as put out with Ron as she was with his brothers, even though Fred and George really hadn't told him about the joke beforehand. Ron, she complained, had rolled on the floor laughing like a mad hyena while she struggled to levitate two hundred odd ferrets single-handedly.

'Well, for a start, nobody knows when Gryffindor's birthday is,' she said irritably. 'Still haven't read Hogwarts, A History, have you? Slytherin left instructions in his will: every year on his birthday, each of his students was to be given a Cauldron Cake, a sachet of spikenard and compass-weed and one-seventh of a silver Sickle. And if your brothers had spent the holidays revising for their N.E.W.Ts instead of planning stupid tricks, Gryffindor wouldn't be going to lose the House Championship this year! I'm off up to bed!'

She rose from her seat and stalked up the girls' staircase.

'That'd be around four Knuts, wouldn't it?' said Harry.

'What would be?' said George.

'A seventh of a Sickle,' said Harry.

'Oh,' said Fred. 'No, it's an actual Sickle, chopped into seven pieces. Dunno how Slytherin fixed it with the goblins, they normally get quite shirty about damage to the currency ...'

*

Next morning Professor McGonagall turned up in the common room, crosser than a goblin who had just stumbled upon an entire vaultful of minced Sickles. There were dark circles under her eyes from hunting ferrets late into the night. She searched Fred and George's trunks, confiscated a fair assortment of suspicious items and forbade them on pain of expulsion to make or sell any more enchanted objects of any sort.

When Harry, Ron and Hermione went down to breakfast, venomous glares from the Slytherins in general and Draco Malfoy in particular followed them to the Gryffindor table. Snape had obviously made no secret of his belief that they had been fellow conspirators in the Ferret Fudge plot. (Malfoy, Harry later learnt from Sirius, was the last of the transformed Slytherins to be run to ground. He had taken refuge in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, where the mouldy lavatory odour masked his smell from Mrs Norris, Professor McGonagall and Sirius himself. Malfoy was only discovered when Myrtle noticed him cowering in the corner of the end cubicle and went sailing through the wall in a fright, screeching that the ghost of a rat was haunting her toilet.)

At the staff table, Dumbledore's face was unusually grave. Once all the students had arrived, he stood and began to speak.

'Last night nearly a quarter of your number narrowly escaped serious injury or even death -- in part from a dangerous and ill-advised joke, but mainly as the result of an unnecessary panic over a harmless animal. The Grim is merely a warning; it has no power in itself to bring misfortune. The creature that appeared at supper was not even that, but an ordinary dog ... as you may see for yourselves.'

Dumbledore went out into the Entrance Hall and returned with a giant black dog strolling beside him.

'This is Snuffles,' Dumbledore said.

A nervous muttering filled the room but no one screamed or tried to run. Dumbledore walked up and down the house tables with Sirius, letting everyone pat him to prove he was solid. Upon completing his circuit of the Great Hall, Sirius came to lie on the floor behind Harry's chair, where Harry, Ron and Hermione fed him bits of bacon and toast.

When the three of them left breakfast, Sirius trotted after them. In the Entrance Hall, he caught hold of Harry's belt with his teeth and pulled him towards the marble staircase. Ron and Hermione made to follow; Sirius waved them off with a massive paw.

'I think he wants to talk to me alone,' said Harry.

Sirius led Harry up to the fourth floor and along a narrow, winding corridor, at the end of which was a dull silver mirror in a rough ebony frame. Sirius gave three short barks and plunged through the glass into the secret passage beyond. Once Harry had joined him, he turned back into himself.

'I want a word with you about your aunt and uncle,' Sirius said abruptly. 'Dumbledore tells me that things have been strained between you and them ever since you started at Hogwarts ...'

'Yeah, they have,' said Harry. He could have told Sirius that things had been strained between him and the Dursleys for considerably longer than that, but he was too curious to hear what his godfather had to say.

'He doesn't want to make the situation worse by speaking ill of them in front of you, but Harry, you could've been killed!' Sirius began to pace the tunnel. 'The truth is, your relatives are idiots even for Muggles. Going off and leaving you with Arabella like that, and them not even knowing she was a witch! Dumbledore'd written to them about Voldemort at the end of term -- they hadn't even opened the letter! He found it under a pile of newspapers in their kitchen!'

Sirius was practically spitting with rage. He paused to get hold of himself and continued more calmly, 'What I mean to say is you can't rely on them in an emergency. If any trouble comes up, you go straight to Mrs Figg. Don't mess about with your aunt and uncle.' He gripped Harry's shoulders and stared him in the eye. 'Swear to me that you'll do that, Harry ...'

'Er -- all right,' said Harry.

It wasn't as though he could ask the Dursleys for help anyway. Sirius, however, appeared satisfied with this promise

'I'll have to be getting back to Remus' house,' he said. 'I'll see you again when I can.'

Without warning, he reached over and hugged Harry tightly. Then, before Harry could say anything more, Sirius changed into a dog again and went bounding off.

*

On Friday Harry turned in the essay Snape had assigned him as punishment for having gone missing during the summer. It was only half-finished -- four foot nine rather than the required six feet -- and, Harry had to admit, a poor job even by his usual standards for Potions homework. Not the least to his surprise, Snape gave him a detention.

Harry arrived at Snape's dungeon that evening to find Fred and George waiting outside. The twins were to spend the next month scouring the fireplace in the Slytherin common room with toothbrushes, and tonight it seemed Harry would be helping.

Snape gave each of them a bronze amulet with an engraving of a Salamander on it (to protect them from burns, George told Harry) and a bag of Streeler shells, which he had them grind up and mix with water to make a glittering, multi-coloured paste. When they were done with that, Snape took them down a damp corridor, stopping by bare stretch of stone wall. He drew a silver key from his robes and inserted it into a crevice. With a sharp click, the concealed door to the Slytherin dormitories slid open. A sickening stench came billowing out.

'Eurgh, what's that?' gasped Harry, staggering back.

'Poison, I expect,' said Fred. 'Don't go in there.'

'Quick, Harry, run and fetch Madam Pomfrey,' said George. 'Most of the Slytherins are probably dead, but she may be able save a few of the tougher ones.'

Harry glanced nervously from one twin to the other, trying to tell if they were serious.

'You stay where you are, Potter,' said Snape coldly. 'There's nothing poisonous about those fumes.'

'How do you know?' challenged Fred.

'I'm sure I smell devil's-foot root ...' said George, wrinkling his nose.

Snape's enormous nostrils dilated. 'I smell stinkhorn, asafoetida, rancid pilchard oil and burnt garlic,' he said flatly. 'All perfectly harmless. Now get inside!'

The few Slytherins still in the common room all wore what Harry assumed were silver nose-plugs. Closer to the fireplace, the smell grew even more intense. Harry was feeling thoroughly ill as he, Fred and George stepped into the crackling flames, picked out likely stones and started scrubbing.

'Don't worry, you get used to it after a bit,' said Fred in a low voice. 'The Slytherins've been chucking horrible-smelling stuff in the fire every night before Snape brings us here.'

'Yeah -- we're getting some brilliant ideas for an improved line of Dungbombs,' said George. 'But you want to watch your back. First detention, one of the Slytherins cancelled our Flame-Freezing Charms when Snape wasn't looking. That's why we're wearing these.' He tapped his amulet. 'Fortunately Madam Pomfrey had lots of Burdock's Burn Balm on hand from the dragons last year.'

'We hadn't reckoned they'd blame you for the fudge as well,' said Fred glumly. 'Sorry, mate.'

'No more talking, Weasley or you'll all be staying an extra hour,' Snape called from the opposite side of the room, where he sat in a carved chair marking papers and eyeing them like an evil-tempered vulture.

*

Harry had cause to remember George's warning Monday morning at breakfast, when the usual mass of owls delivered the post. Not one but two packages were dropped by his plate -- sent, apparently, from 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

Harry's first thought was that the Dursleys had finally decided to throw him out of the house and were returning the few things he'd left in their smallest bedroom. When he unwrapped the largest package, however, it proved to contain a chocolate cake. Harry stared at the box in bewilderment. Aunt Petunia hadn't once in his whole life baked a cake for him, and it was neither his birthday nor any other special occasion he could recall.

'Cool!' said Ron. 'Can I have a slice?'

'No!' said Harry sharply. At Ron's startled and faintly affronted expression, he explained, 'The Dursleys would never send me a cake. I'd bet anything that this is from the Slytherins.'

Ron leant away from the cake as though afraid it would leap off the table and attack him. With a dirty look at the Slytherin table, Harry shut the box and stowed it under his chair. After breakfast he tipped both packages into a convenient dustbin beneath the marble staircase.

'Sending me a cake and saying it was from the Dursleys -- as if!' he said to Ron and Hermione as they walked away. 'I thought Slytherins were supposed to be cunning ...'

There was a rustling noise behind them. Harry turned to see Crabbe and Goyle bending over the dustbin, scooping out great handfuls of cake and cramming it into their mouths.

'Cunning, are they?' said Ron, stifling a snigger.

'Well, mostly cunning,' Harry amended.

But as he watched Crabbe and Goyle stuff themselves, an uneasy feeling crept over him. If the cake had been an attempt at revenge by the Slytherins, surely the two of them would have been told about it?

'D'you reckon the Slytherins didn't send that cake?' he asked worriedly.

'If they didn't, you know who must have,' said Hermione in alarm. 'Don't eat that!' she shouted.

Crabbe and Goyle merely smirked at her as they licked the last few crumbs from their fingers and ambled out the giant oak front doors.

'They look OK,' said Harry.

'Mind, it would take strong poison to finish off that pair of trolls,' said Ron.

'Maybe it was the other package that You-Know-Who jinxed,' said Hermione. 'I mean, he must have realised by now that that snake isn't going to bite you ...'

She pointed her wand at the dustbin and the smaller box rose up out of it.

'I'm taking this to Professor McGonagall!'