Harry Potter and the Missing Memories

Chapter 11

Gryffindor Versus Hufflepuff

While Harry was still registering what Ron had said, Ron hurled himself forward towards the corner where they had seen the movement.

"Come here, you!" he muttered grimly, as he reached out in the semi-darkness and grabbed hold of something that frantically began wriggling to get away.

Ron stood up slowly and turned round, concentrating his efforts on keeping hold of the wriggling creature, as Harry belatedly rushed over to him.

"Are you sure it's Wormtail?" hissed Harry, over the noise of Neville's continued screams.

"I'd know him anywhere after this long," replied Ron. "Anyway, look here."

He held up the scrawny rat in the candlelight, and Harry could distinctly see the gleam of a small silver foot. It was indeed Wormtail; no other rat could possibly have a silver hand like that.

"Aren't either of you going to shut him up?" came a grumpy voice from behind them.

Seamus and Dean had been woken by Neville's screams.

"Oh, yeah - could you do it? I've got my hands full," said Ron, as casually as he could. "The drops are on his bedside table, but watch out for the broken glass on the floor."

"What do we do with him now?" whispered Harry.

"Dunno," answered Ron tensely, still managing to maintain his grip on the squirming rat. "I suppose we should take him straight to Dumbledore, but I don't know how we'll find him at this time of night without Filch finding us first."

"Let's find a box to put him in..." started Harry, but his idea was drowned out by a sudden yell and a few choice swear words from behind him. He turned sharply to see Dean jumping around and pulling a piece of glass from his foot - he had not heeded Ron's warning and had cut his foot on the broken tumbler. A second later came another cry from behind him.

"Oww!" yelled Ron. "He bit me!"

Harry swung back round just in time to see Wormtail jump from Ron's hands onto the window sill, scurry up the frame and throw himself out of the window, which was partially open. The two boys ran over and peered down. They saw the small shape of the rat grow in size despite the rate at which it was falling, and then heard a small, squeaky voice shout, "Decelero!" A few sparks shot from the end of what they presumed to be Wormtail's wand, and the transformed wizard slowed in the air and touched down gently onto the ground. Without a backward glance, Wormtail headed towards the castle gates.

"Come on," said Harry urgently, "we've got to raise the alarm!"

Harry and Ron ran to the dormitory door, flung it open and ran down the staircase towards the common room.

"Hey! What about Neville?" Seamus shouted after them, with a puzzled look on his face.

"Two drops on his tongue, washed down with water!" Ron yelled back. "Dean knows how."

With that the two of them opened the portrait door, climbed through and began running down the stairs.

"Who are we going to tell?" asked Ron.

"We have to find Dumbledore," replied Harry. "He's the only one who knows everything about Wormtail. This way - follow me."

Harry led Ron along first one corridor, then another and down a small staircase.

"It's just round here, where the stone griffins are," said Harry, as they turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs and bumped straight into ... Professor Snape.

"Potter! Weasley! What are you doing wandering round the castle at this hour of the night? Did you not hear the Headmaster expressly forbid any student from leaving their common room until breakfast tomorrow?"

"We have to see Professor Dumbledore, Sir. It's an emergency," panted Ron.

Snape eyed them suspiciously and then sneered, "The Headmaster is extremely busy with matters far more important than your minor emergencies, Weasley. I hardly think we need to disturb him. What is it, has Longbottom lost his teddy bear again?"

"No, it's important!" said Harry hotly. "We have to see the Headmaster straight away!"

"As I said, Potter, the Headmaster is not available," snapped Snape. "And as you both seem to think, yet again, that rules set in place to protect the students do not apply to you, I suggest..."

But what delights Snape was about to suggest, they never found out, because at that very moment Professor Dumbledore appeared from behind the stone gargoyle that marked the entrance to his office.

"Professor Dumbledore!" called Harry, pushing past Snape and running towards the Headmaster. "Professor, Wormtail is in the grounds! He was in our dormitory, but he escaped!"

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed and exchanged a brief glance with Snape.

"You're sure it was him?" he asked sharply.

"Yes sir, positive," Harry replied. "He escaped out of the window and he's making for the gates."

"Severus, try to intercept him," Dumbledore said hurriedly to Snape, who nodded curtly and swept off down the corridor towards the main entrance.

"Now, Harry, Ron, I think we need to take a closer look at your dormitory," he continued in a more kindly tone. "You can tell me exactly what happened on the way."

As they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry and Ron told Professor Dumbledore about Wormtail's sighting, capture and escape in as much detail as they could. They went through the portrait hole, up the stairs and gently opened the dormitory door.

"Lumos," muttered Dumbledore, and the tip of his wand glowed, giving off a dull light just bright enough to enable them to see.

All was now quiet in the dormitory. Dean and Seamus had managed to successfully administer the Knockout Drops to Neville and were now both back in bed, fast asleep. The broken glass had been cleared away, leaving just a pool of water mixed with blood where it had been. Harry squinted through the gloom at Dean's bed and saw a foot wrapped in a towel sticking out from under the quilt.

"Now gentlemen," whispered Dumbledore, "where exactly did you see the rat first?"

Ron pointed down into the corner where the outside wall met the wall to the left of the door. Dumbledore went over and stooped down to get a closer look, with Harry and Ron looking over his shoulder. He picked something up and held it to the wand light to see it more clearly. It was a feather, a blue one just like the one Dean had found earlier the previous day. Then Dumbledore held his wand lower and moved along the wall towards the door.

"Ah, here we are," he said, stopping a couple of feet from the door.

As Harry peered down, he could see a hole in the skirting board, just large enough for a small rat to squeeze through. Dumbledore reached his hand into the hole, felt around for a minute and pulled out a handful of feathers just like the other one.

"Professor Dumbledore, what are those?" asked Harry in a whisper.

"Unless I'm very much mistaken, these are Jobberknoll feathers," Dumbledore replied. "What we need to work out now is why they're here."

Harry and Ron exchanged blank glances.

"We're studying them in Care of Magical Creatures," said Ron slowly, " but I can't think of any reason they'd be up here in the dorm, or in a mouse hole."

Dumbledore straightened up, his brow furrowed in thought, and walked slowly over to the window. He opened it a bit wider and looked down into the grounds. Snape was walking back along the path to the castle alone.

"It seems Mr Pettigrew has eluded us yet again," said Dumbledore, in a matter-of-fact but slightly weary voice. "Now, have either of you noticed anything else untoward or different this evening - apart from the unpleasantness in Hogsmeade of course?"

The two boys thought hard and began to shake their heads. But then a sudden thought occurred to Harry.

"Professor, when Neville started screaming tonight, he started saying a few things. He's never said anything before."

Dumbledore looked at him, a sharp note of keen interest in his eyes.

"Really? What did he say?"

"It was just a few words and phrases, firstly about his parents - 'Not them', he said - and then there was something about a ring," replied Harry.

"What else did he say?" Dumbledore probed further.

"Mustn't tell," said Ron suddenly. "He said 'the ring ... mustn't tell', but he didn't say anything after that, or if he did, we were too busy with Wormtail."

"Very interesting," mused Dumbledore, his eyes roving round the dormitory and coming to rest on Neville's bed.

Dumbledore moved silently across to Neville's bedside and looked down thoughtfully at the unconscious teenager. Then he lifted up the edge of Neville's pillow and slipped his hand underneath, feeling around for something. When he pulled his hand back out, he was holding yet another handful of Jobberknoll feathers. He stared down at the feathers for a few moments and then, as if he'd made a decision about something, he put the feathers into a pocket of his robe and walked back over to Harry and Ron.

"I think we're finished here for tonight, gentlemen," he said. "You had better both try to get some sleep. And when you all get up tomorrow, please would you ask Mr Longbottom to come and see me."

"But Professor, what about Wormtail? What was he doing here? What if he comes back?" Harry blurted out.

"Then I will be ready for him. However, I do not think he will return, not now that his presence has been discovered. As to what he was here for - well, I have my suspicions, that is all I can say at the moment."

Dumbledore made to go, but paused when he had opened the dormitory door, turned and said, "Oh, and Harry, I think we'd better cancel our meeting tomorrow morning. Wormtail's visit means that I have a lot more to do now."

Harry opened his mouth to object, but Dumbledore, seeing the disgruntled look on Harry's face, added quickly, "I promise that as soon as I have news of Sirius I will let you know."

*

The fifth year Gryffindor boys all missed breakfast the following morning. When Harry finally awoke, about half-past-ten, he found Ron and Neville still asleep and Seamus getting ready to accompany Dean to the Hospital Wing to get the cut in his foot mended.

"What happened last night?" Seamus asked him with a scowl. "Why did you two run off like that?"

"Oh, sorry about that," said a bleary-eyed Harry, racking his brains for a suitable reason other than the truth and settling on a half-truth instead. "It was ...um...well, Ron and I saw an intruder in the grounds and we went to report it."

"You weren't supposed to leave the Tower," said Seamus flatly, as he helped Dean limp to the door. "You could have got into a lot of trouble."

Harry scowled and didn't reply. His mind wandered to their impromptu meeting with Snape the night before and wondered what would have happened if Professor Dumbledore hadn't come along when he had. Would he and Ron have been on the next train home?

Ron got up about half an hour later and disappeared off to a Prefects' update on the Hogsmeade situation as soon as he was dressed. Neville didn't wake up until nearly midday. When he did, it was obvious that his dream, fit or whatever it was of the previous night had really taken its toll on him. He looked pale and drawn, and when he stood up, he seemed quite shaky on his feet.

As they'd missed breakfast, Harry rummaged around in his trunk to find his supply of Chocolate Frogs and handed one to Neville. Neville gratefully took it, unwrapped it with trembling hands and ate it quickly.

"Professor Dumbledore would like you to go and see him when you're dressed," said Harry, as Neville put the last piece of chocolate in his mouth.

Neville's eyes widened, and he almost choked on the chocolate.

"What does he want to see me for?" he spluttered, looking very scared. "What have I done wrong?"

"Nothing, Neville," replied Harry in what he hoped was a soothing voice. "He just wants to talk to you about these dreams you've been having, that's all. Would you like me to take you to his office?"

Neville seemed to accept this without further explanation and nodded. Harry was secretly hoping that by taking Neville to Dumbledore's office, he might get a chance to talk to Dumbledore himself and possibly get news of Sirius. However, as he and Neville approached the stone gargoyle, some ten minutes later, Professor McGonagall was just emerging from the stairs to Headmaster's office.

"Ah, Potter, Longbottom, there you are," she said tersely. "Longbottom, go straight up, the Headmaster is expecting you."

Harry made to follow Neville up the stairs, but Professor McGonagall called him back.

"Where are you going, Potter? I don't believe the Headmaster asked to see you as well. I think you should go and get some lunch as you missed breakfast, and then you have a Quidditch match to concentrate on."

"Is the match still on then, Professor?" he asked. "I wasn't sure it would be."

"Certainly it is, Potter," Professor McGonagall replied, her tone softening a little. "Goodness knows we need something to cheer the school up at the moment. I trust you've all been practicing hard."

Harry slouched off to the Great Hall for lunch, a bit disappointed that he hadn't been able to speak to Professor Dumbledore, but also relieved to have something else to focus on for a while. In all the fuss of the previous night, in the turmoil of Wormtail's appearance and his worries over Sirius' safety, Harry had almost forgotten Sunday's Quidditch match against Hufflepuff. It had momentarily crossed his mind after the explosion in Hogsmeade that the match might be cancelled, but Professor McGonagall had just laid that possibility to rest. He would have to make sure that the rest of the team knew it was still on and ensure that they practiced hard that afternoon.

Harry was one of the first into the Great Hall that lunchtime. He sat down at the top of the Gryffindor table and helped himself to a large portion of toad-in-the-hole as he watched the rest of the school wander in. He saw Cho come in with her usual group of sixth-year Ravenclaw girls, then some of the younger Gryffindors. After that the fifth-year Hufflepuffs arrived, but purposely sat with their backs to him. He supposed this had something to do with the coming game. Then a group of Slytherins came in, including Malfoy and Crabbe, but not Goyle. Malfoy looked much grimmer than usual. The Slytherins sat in a tight knot at the top of their table, huddled together and started whispering intently about something. Then Ron and Hermione came in and sat down opposite Harry.

"Any interesting news?" Harry asked.

"Nothing about Snuffles, if that's what you mean," replied Ron in a low voice.

"What we do know is that it was Goyle's parents who were killed," added Hermione, "and that seven others are being treated by Madam Pomfrey here at the school. Oh, and the Quidditch match is still on tomorrow."

"Nothing I didn't know then," said Harry, as he passed the roast potatoes across to Ron. "While I remember, Ron, practice at half-past-two this afternoon down on the pitch."

"Right," answered Ron thickly, his mouth full of food.

*

The practice that afternoon was a little subdued, but went fine nevertheless. The three Chasers seemed to be working well as a unit, and the only incident was when Fred Weasley mishit a Bludger that then rebounded straight at George, glancing off his right foot. It hadn't been enough to break any bones, but George was still in some discomfort after the practice had finished.

Ron held Harry back as the others headed up to the castle for tea.

"Are you nervous about tomorrow? Y'know, first game as Captain and all that?" he asked, as they slowly walked back.

"No," lied Harry, as his stomach did a somersault at the very thought. "Actually, I'm more worried about Sirius - I would have thought Dumbledore would know something by now."

"It's a pity we don't have a way to contact him, isn't it?" said Ron.

Harry stopped in his tracks.

"What did you just say?"

"I said it's a pity we don't have a way to contact him. Why?" replied Ron, eyeing him curiously.

Harry didn't reply, but broke into a run.

"Hey! What's the matter Harry?" Ron yelled after him. "What did I say?"

Harry ran past the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team at breakneck speed, up the steps into the Entrance Hall, across to the main staircase, almost knocking over a couple of first years on the way, and up the flights of stairs leading to Gryffindor Tower. Ron was a short distance behind, trying to catch up with him.

Harry didn't stop until he reached his dormitory, when he rushed over to his trunk and began pulling everything out. Finally he found what he was looking for. He carefully picked up a small, black velvet-covered box from near the bottom of the trunk, where it had been wrapped up in one of the T-shirts he'd inherited from Dudley, and opened it.

"Oh, so that's what you were looking for," panted Ron, who was now looking over his shoulder, "that band-thingy that he gave you for your birthday."

Harry carefully took the Monerband from its box and examined it. The stone was gleaming green from its setting. He hurriedly removed his robe, unbuttoned his shirt and fastened the band round his upper arm as Sirius had shown him. Then he placed the palm of his hand over the stone and said clearly, "Monero." The stone instantly gleamed a bright red.

"What now?" asked Ron, as Harry buttoned his shirt back up.

"Well, Sirius knows I need to speak to him, so now we just wait for him to show up," Harry replied, a lot more positively than he felt. "I just hope he shows up soon."

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon by himself wandering round the grounds near Hagrid's empty hut in the hope that a familiar large, black dog might appear from the forest, but none did. Every now and then he pulled up the sleeve of his robe to check that the Monerband was still glowing red.

At teatime, Ron and Hermione exchanged worried glances as Harry picked at the food on his plate, but hardly ate anything. In fact, the only sorrier-looking figure in the Great Hall that night was Goyle, who sat alone at the furthest end of the Slytherin table. He looked up as Malfoy and Crabbe came by to reach their normal seats, but they walked straight past him as if he wasn't there.

After tea, Harry went back to Gryffindor Tower with Hermione and Ron, and they spent all evening trying to keep him occupied with games of chess and gobstones. Harry only took part half-heartedly because he knew they were just trying to cheer him up, but he was so distracted that he couldn't really concentrate and lost every single game.

After about an hour of games and Hermione's falsely upbeat chat, Harry's patience gave out. He picked up the set of gobstones they had been using and threw them hard at the wall. They ricocheted off, squirting several students in the face. A few scowls and yells of complaint were thrown in his direction, but he took no notice. Instead he stalked over to first one window and peered out into the darkness, then over to the other window, unable to keep still for very long. Out of the corner of one eye, Harry could see Hermione and Ron with their heads together, whispering. Then Ron sidled over and stood beside Harry, his hands dug deep in his pockets.

"Harry, do you want to go over the strategy for tomorrow's game?" he asked casually.

"No thanks, Ron," replied Harry through gritted teeth. "We've all practised long and hard for this match. If we don't know it now, we never will."

"Well what about we do that Charms homework for Flitwick then? It's got to be handed in on Monday morning."

With that Harry rounded on Ron.

"CUT IT OUT, WILL YOU!" he yelled. "I DON'T WANT TO BE CHEERED UP, I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE HOMEWORK - JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!"

And without a backward glance, he stormed upstairs to the deserted dormitory, flung himself onto his four-poster, shut the curtains round him and stared up at the ceiling in the darkness. His anger, his frustration and his fear were like big lead weights in his chest, crushing any happiness or thoughts of the future out of him. What did it matter who won the Quidditch match tomorrow if Sirius was still missing? What did it matter if he got all his homework done on time and got good grades if he didn't have Sirius to share it all with? Sirius was the only link he had left to his family, to his real family - somehow the Dursleys didn't seem to count - and the thought of that link being severed too was maddening.

An hour or so later he heard the dormitory door open, followed by quiet footsteps towards his bed.

"Harry?" came Ron's voice uncertainly.

Harry said nothing, the concentrated frown lines deepening in his forehead.

"Harry, can we talk?" said Ron again.

Still Harry didn't answer. There was silence for a minute or two, then he heard the footsteps retreating from the room and the door closing once more. Harry continued to lie there thinking about everything and nothing. He heard the others come in and go to bed, and still he lay there brooding. When he eventually did drift off, his dreams were full of black dogs, constantly changing traffic lights and blue rats with wings.

*

When Harry woke up the following morning, he was still fully clothed. His glasses were wedged under his pillow and one of the arms on them was bent outward at a curious angle. He hurried past the others without making eye contact and into the bathroom to wash and change. When he re-emerged a while later, feeling decidedly more human, Ron was the only one left in the dormitory. He was sitting on the edge of his bed waiting for Harry.

"Alright Harry?" he asked cautiously.

"Suppose so," replied Harry non-committally.

"Look, Harry," said Ron, with the air of one who was about to launch into a well-prepared speech, "sorry about last night. We didn't mean to upset you, we just thought you could do with a change of topic, that's all. And about Snuffles, well, my Mum always says 'no news is good news'. So the fact we haven't heard anything yet is a good thing. He's probably just not able to get through - Hogsmeade'll be swarming with Aurors and Ministry officials still."

Ron paused as if to gauge Harry's reaction, then continued, "Come on Harry, let's go get some breakfast. You've got a Quidditch match to win, and I'm sure he'd want you to do your best."

Harry just nodded in reply and followed Ron downstairs. The very mention of Sirius' name brought a lump to his throat, but Ron was right - he would want Harry to play his best.

The rest of the Quidditch team were already eating when he and Ron got down to the Great Hall. All of them looked tense and pale.

"Morning Captain," said Fred Weasley, looking up as they approached. "You look a bit like I feel."

"Here, have some sausages and fried bread," said George, passing a heavily laden plate down to Harry. "Remember what Oliver used to say - 'A hearty breakfast is essential before a Quidditch match. Your body needs the fuel to run on'."

The sight of all the fried food sliding round the plate was almost enough to turn Harry's stomach, so he discretely pushed the plate to one side and forced himself to eat a couple of slices of toast and marmalade instead.

When Hermione arrived, Harry passed his glasses down to her.

"Hermione, do you know a spell that would fix these?"

Hermione took out her wand, tapped the bent arm and said, "Reparo."

She handed the perfectly straight glasses back to Harry.

"That one's not just for the lenses, you know," she said matter-of-factly. "You should really learn it yourself."

"He doesn't need to while you're here, does he?" Ron snorted. "What takes us loads of practice you always do right first time."

Hermione looked somewhat gratified and turned her attention to a book on Ancient Runes that she had propped against a salt-cellar.

As soon as he'd finished his toast, Harry got to his feet.

"See you all down on the pitch in ten minutes," he said to the rest of the team.

*

The weather conditions were perfect for the match: overcast, but bright, not too cold, a gentle, southeasterly wind and, most importantly for Harry, not raining. He climbed onto his Firebolt, kicked off and soared high over the stadium, until the spectator stands below looked quite small. Harry always found that flying was a good way to clear his head; he seemed to leave his fear and worries behind on the ground. He relished the tranquillity and peace of his solo flight, and the way that seeing the castle and grounds spread out in miniature below him gave him a different sense of perspective on the world. The events of the last couple of days seemed as remote as the mountains in the distance. Ron had been right in what he'd said before breakfast - his worries about Sirius' whereabouts could wait. Right now it was the forthcoming game that was important, and the honour of Gryffindor House that depended on it.

Harry saw the rest of the team walking across the grounds to the stadium, so he headed down to meet them.

"Looks like the perfect day for it," said Angelina, looking around.

"Yeah," said Fred, "the perfect day to smash the Hufflepuff defences to smithereens."

"Literally," added George.

When the Hufflepuff team arrived on the pitch a few minutes later, Harry decided it was time for his team to get ready, so they went off to the changing rooms en masse.

"You know," said Ron, as he carefully put on his scarlet Quidditch robes, "I've looked forward to playing Quidditch for Gryffindor for years - I've dreamt about it loads of times. But now it comes to actually doing it, I feel kind of numb. Is that normal?"

"You, normal?" shouted George from the other side of the changing room, "Never, Ronnekins!"

Harry shot him a frown to shut him up. In all his apprehension about his first game as Captain, it had almost slipped his mind that it was Ron's first proper game ever.

"That's quite normal, Ron," he assured his friend. "Just do as you've done in the practices and you'll be fine."

The noise of the students congregating in the stands wafted into the changing room, and all Harry's anxieties came flooding back. Did he really think he could pull this off? He might have been the youngest Seeker for a century, but today might prove him to be the worst Captain for a millennium.

When they had all changed into their robes and collected their brooms, the six players stood round Harry and looked at him expectantly.

"Time for the pep talk, Cap'n," said Fred, saluting him.

Harry's mouth instantly went as dry as powder.

"Er ... well ... we've practiced really hard," he stammered, "so let's go out there and ... um ...show them what we can do."

There was a second's silence, and then the others, seeing that he'd finished already, gave him a smattering of polite applause. Blushing furiously, Harry picked up his Firebolt and went to wait near the doors out onto the pitch.

"Nice speech, Harry," murmured Alicia as he passed by her.

The noise from the crowd outside suddenly lulled. Harry knew that this meant Madam Hooch had arrived. Any time now...

"Professors and fellow students," came Lee Jordan's magically magnified voice, "welcome to the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff!"

There were loud cheers from all around the ground.

"For Hufflepuff, we have Ambrose, Cunningham, Hague, McMullen, Yeo, and, new to their line-up, Bones and Finch-Fletchley!"

Even more loud cheers filled the air as the Hufflepuff team walked onto the pitch. The doors to the Gryffindor changing room opened.

"And for Gryffindor, we have Potter, Johnson, Bell, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley and Weasley!"

Harry gripped his Firebolt tightly and led the team out onto the pitch. The cheering from the Gryffindor stands was almost deafening, as were the boos and jeers from the Slytherins. Anthony Ambrose, a sixth year and new captain of the Hufflepuff team, extended a pudgy hand to Harry, who dutifully shook it. They listened to Madam Hooch's standard pre-match rules and admonishments, then mounted their brooms and took their positions in the air. Madam Hooch released the Golden Snitch and the Bludgers, and Harry watched as the glint of gold shot off high into the air and out of sight.

"On my whistle. Three ... two... one..."

She threw the Quaffle into the air as the whistle sounded, and play commenced. From his vantage point above the rest of the players, Harry watched the game unfold below him. Katie, Angelina and Alicia seemed to be working together as well as ever. They took possession of the Quaffle and scored their first goal quite quickly. Then Hufflepuff got the Quaffle, and Harry watched in trepidation as they headed towards the Gryffindor hoops.

"Ambrose in possession, passes to Finch-Fletchley, back to Ambrose," came Lee Jordan's commentary. "Ooh, well dodged - a Bludger from Weasley narrowly misses Ambrose there. To Hague - Ambrose - Finch-Fletchley. He's shooting for goal ... he's scored."

There were sighs from the Gryffindors and loud cheers from the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins.

Harry winced. It hadn't been a particularly hard shot at goal, and Ron had been in exactly the right spot to reach it, but somehow it had slipped though his fingers and through the hoop.

"Johnson in possession for Gryffindor - that girl can really fly. A good pass to Bell there. Watch out for that Bludger, Katie! Oh, now Ambrose gets the Quaffle ... and another goal for Hufflepuff. The score now stands at 20 points to 10 to Hufflepuff."

That set the scene for the rest of the match. Angelina and Alicia managed to score one more goal each, but Hufflepuff scored a further ten goals in short succession. It would have been eleven, except that one of them hit Ron full in the stomach rather than going through the hoops. With each Hufflepuff goal, Lee Jordan's commentary became more and more surly, increasing interspersed with comments such as "come on, Gryffindor" and "show us that old magic, guys". When the score reached 120-30, he could contain himself no longer.

"Hufflepuff scores again. Man, this sucks! Gryffindor, you'd better get your arses into gear, or you'll be dead meat later..."

"Jordan!" exclaimed Professor McGonagall. "Such language! Commentate impartially, or I'll find someone to replace you!"

Waiting until the Gryffindor Chasers had the Quaffle at the far end of the pitch, Harry flew down to Ron.

"Come on, Ron," said Harry, "buck your ideas up. What's going on?"

Ron was very flushed and looked as though he'd like the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

"I don't know, Harry, it seemed to come more naturally in practice," he answered anxiously.

"Well pretend you're in practice then!" snapped Harry.

Ron scowled.

"Well perhaps you should look for the Snitch rather than watching the rest of us playing!" he retorted. "Look there."

Harry looked, and his heart skipped a beat. Just over halfway down the pitch Susan Bones, the Hufflepuff Seeker, had gone into a steep dive. Without a second thought, he set off at top speed on an intercept course, straining to see exactly where she was heading. Then he saw it: a tiny, glittering speck of gold near the base of one of the Ravenclaw stands. He leaned closer to the broom handle and willed the Firebolt on towards it. With a sudden spurt of speed, he levelled with Susan Bones. Seeing her reach out her hand towards the Golden Snitch, he veered left and bumped her. She slowed slightly and brought her hand down to steady herself. Harry shunted her once more, quite hard, and spurred his broom onwards towards the Snitch. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Susan fall from her broom onto the grass a few feet below. He reached out his hand and grasped the small, struggling ball tightly. He landed, dismounted and held the Snitch up for everyone to see.

"And Harry Potter catches the Golden Snitch," came Lee Jordan's magnified voice, sounding very relieved. "The Snitch is worth one hundred and fifty points. That makes the final score Gryffindor one hundred and eighty points to Hufflepuff's one hundred and twenty."

The Gryffindors streamed out of the stands and onto the pitch as the players landed and dismounted. They picked up Harry and team onto their shoulders to parade them round the stadium in a lap of honour. The Hufflepuff team were gathered around Susan Bones, who was in floods of tears. Hermione fought her way through the throng, firstly to Ron and then to Harry, giving both of them big hugs, a beaming smile on her face.

When the team were finally allowed to go and change, Harry caught up with Ron and took him to one side.

"Ron, thanks for pointing out the Snitch to me," he said. "You were right, I didn't have my eye on the ball."

Ron grinned.

"At least you got it, mate," he replied. But then his face fell a bit. "Sorry about all those goals I let in. I was fine in practices, and I've always been okay at home, but here... Must be something to do with the crowds. I'm not used to that."

"Don't worry, Ron," said Harry, "all they'll remember is that we won. And if it's the audience that's giving you a problem, I'm sure we can find a way round it somehow. I suggest we..."

Harry stopped suddenly and clutched his left arm.

"What was that?" he exclaimed.

He pulled back the sleeve of his robes and rolled up his shirtsleeve. The Monerband was still glowing red on his arm, but now it was flashing.

"It's gone all hot," said Harry. "Something's happening. What does it mean?"

Ron shook his head slowly.

"Don't know," he said. "Didn't this thing come with instructions?"

Ron looked around, then whistled loudly and waved. A minute later Hermione came rushing breathlessly over.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"Take a look at this, Hermione," said Ron. "What do you make of it? Its just gone hot and started flashing."

Hermione examined the Monerband closely.

"Harry, try moving round in a circle very slowly. Let's see if that makes any difference," she said.

Harry turned round little by little and was amazed to see that the red crystal on his arm speeded up at one point and then flashed more slowly as he turned.

"Didn't Snuffles say this could be used for tracking?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded.

"Yes, but he didn't say how."

"Well, let's assume that where it's flashing fastest is the right way," she continued, "and see where it leads us. That would seem logical."

Harry turned again until the Monerband was flashing fast, and the three of them set off in that direction, stopping every now and then to recheck. It seemed to be leading them towards the Forbidden Forest.

When they reached Hagrid's vacant hut, they paused again to take their bearings and adjusted their course a little to the left. They walked through the pumpkin patch and round to the rear of the cabin. As they turned the corner towards Hagrid's back door, Harry was forcefully knocked to the ground. He opened his eyes and looked straight into a pair of bright yellow eyes a couple of inches from him. Then he became aware that he was being pinned to the ground by big, black, furry feet. He looked up again, and the realisation dawned on him.

"Snuffles!"

The big, black dog gave Harry a long, rasping lick all the way up one cheek and then backed off enough to let him get up.

"Snuffles - Sirius," said Harry, straightening his Quidditch robes, "I thought I'd never see you again!"

Ron and Hermione stood back a bit from Harry, as the black dog transformed before their eyes into Sirius Black. He stepped forward and gave Harry a bone-crushing hug. Then he took a step back and looked at them with a concerned expression on his face.

"Are you alright? Why did you use the Monerband?"

"We're fine," answered Harry. "I thought, well, after the explosion in Hogsmeade, that something had happened to you. And Dumbledore didn't seem to know anything. It was the only way I could think of to reach you. I honestly thought you were dead or something."

Sirius regarded Harry thoughtfully for a moment, then his face broke into a wide grin.

"Well as you can see, I'm fine," he said, doing a small pirouette on the spot. "I was a bit delayed getting into the area - quite fortunate as it turns out, with all the Ministry Enforcement patrols there are around. Tell me what happened."

Harry, Ron and Hermione recounted the events of Halloween night in as much detail as they could. Sirius' dark eyes twinkled as they told of Harry's night-time excursion to the Hospital Wing under the Invisibility Cloak - "Just what your father would have done," he commented - and they widened as Harry described how his presence there had nearly been given away by Professor Sophia.

"This teacher - what does she look like?" he asked.

"Not particularly old, dark hair, olive skin, quite pretty really - apart from that scar," said Ron.

"Any idea what her first name is?" Sirius enquired further, his head inclined to one side.

"Kaliope, I think," replied Harry. "Yes, I'm sure that's what Professor Dumbledore called her."

"If she is who I think she is, she was a couple of years below me at school," said Sirius. "A pretty young Ravenclaw. Very talented."

"If you want to be sure," said Hermione, pointing back towards the Quidditch pitch, "look over there. She's just on her way back up to the school now."

They watched from a sheltered position behind the steps to Hagrid's hut, as Professor Sophia skirted wide of the Quidditch stands and crossed the grass towards the castle.

"That's definitely Kal," said Sirius. "She was quite a stunner at school - broke quite a few hearts, if I remember rightly. And she was an excellent student. A bit similar to you, Hermione."

They watched in silence as Kaliope Sophia stopped briefly, looked quizzically in their general direction and then continued up to the castle. After a minute or two, Hermione glanced round and suppressed a giggle. She nudged Ron in the ribs with her elbow, then Harry, and motioned with her head towards Sirius, who was gazing open-mouthed after Professor Sophia with an intensely dreamy look on his face.

"Heel, boy," she said, giggling again. "You're drooling!"

Sirius scowled at them, reddening slightly.

"I think I'd better report to Dumbledore now," he said, changing the subject abruptly, "he'll be expecting me. Harry, I'll be in touch later this evening. We can talk more then."

With that, Sirius transformed back into his animagus form and trotted off, skirting the edge of the forest, as he headed for the school via the Herbology greenhouses.

"What did you have to go and scare him off for?" said Harry to Hermione. "He would have stayed longer if you hadn't embarrassed him."

"Like he said, he has to see Professor Dumbledore," replied Hermione with a smirk, "and if I'm not very much mistaken, he's hoping the Headmaster already has company."

Harry, Ron and Hermione headed back to Gryffindor Tower, where a party to celebrate their Quidditch victory was already well underway. They were greeted by cheers and pats on the back from all sides. Harry couldn't help but smile - his heart felt far lighter than it had done for weeks.