Harry Potter and the Sticking Broom

Chapter 13: Something's Not Right

Harry leant against a wall, waiting in the tunnel under the Quidditch stadium, while the Singing Sorceress finished her performance to tumultuous applause. She graciously acknowledged her fans and curtsied with a flourish to the dignitaries in the highest seats. As she blew kisses, Harry noticed with disgust that Lucius Malfoy was sitting among the official guests, still talking to the fat, bald wizard. However, not far away from Mr Malfoy, special seating had also been made available to St. Mungo's patients, including the Women Who Run With the Wolves. Some of these ladies now sported muzzles, but all were intermittently howling and clapping.

Harry nudged George and pointed to Mr Malfoy. He was just about to say, "Here's hoping Malfoy's dad gets bitten," when something odd caught his eye. Alicia Spinnett was sitting between the official guests and the patients.

"Why's Alicia sitting in the top box?" he asked George instead.

"Her whole family's up there," said George, squinting as he tried to find Alicia in the crowd. "I think she said they won tickets from the Daily Prophet."

A cloud of roses had appeared above Miss Warbeck, and was drifting to the ground. As teenage witches screeched their undying devotion to Kirley McCormack, he selected a golden rose and handed it to the Singing Sorceress. The guitarist's and the singer's hands met and both entertainers promptly disappeared.

"The flower must have been a Portkey," said Crabbe, stating the obvious.

Mordred Avery rolled his eyes. "She maketh the thame ecthit every conthert," he whined.

Harry's attention turned from the Quidditch pitch to the opposite end of the tunnel, where a Security Troll was guarding the players' entry. He hoped Ginny would be able to reach him before the match started, as it was obvious she had something important to say.

But it seemed as though Ginny would be too late. The crowd above Harry erupted again, welcoming Oliver Wood back to his old school. Oliver floated a wooden box in front of him as he walked confidently across the pitch, his silver referee's whistle glinting in the sunlight. The young witches of Hogwarts all seemed delighted to have another burly man to scream at. Harry could barely make out Lee Jordan's commentary over the cheers, but towards the end Lee was shouting, "- and we're all counting on you to bring back the Ashes, Oliver. Just like you brought the cup back to Gryffindor!"

"Let's go," Angelina said, her voice betraying her nerves as she pulled up her mismatched socks. However, her face was grimly determined when she led her team from the tunnel.

"Captain of the All School Team, Angelina Johnson!" Lee announced. The applause for Angelina was enthusiastic, but not quite as frenzied as the support for Wood. Lee continued, "She's off to play for the Harpies next year. It'll be a change to have a pretty face on that team. Striking looking girl, Angelina, as I've told her often - and romantically unattached now, too. Shame she still won't go out with me."

Angelina snorted, her hand gripped tightly around her broom and it looked for a moment as though she was going to make an impolite gesture back at Lee. She appeared to change her mind when she noticed the small delegation from the Department of Magical Games and Sports in the stands.

Harry wondered what sort of reaction Professor McGonagall would be having to Lee's free ranging and candid commentary. The teachers were still out of sight in the tunnel on the far side of the stadium. While Lee announced the rest of the student team, and said many embarrassingly fawning things about the Triwizard Champion and Boy Who Lived, Harry stared into the darkness of the teachers' tunnel. Curiously, just before Lee called the Hogwarts Staff Team onto the pitch, a flare of light, like the flash of a camera, lit up the darkness.

From the tunnel emerged a wall of striped material and a pole the size of a small tree trunk. Harry thought somebody had made a mistake, and had decided to relocate the Brews-U-Like free samples tent to the middle of the Quidditch pitch. Then Merlin Rhys-Jones, who was standing just in front of Harry and George, gave a low whistle and whispered, "Blimey!"

Rubeus Hagrid was walking towards them, swinging a broom bigger than any Harry had ever seen. He was wearing hideous Quidditch robes with broad red and white stripes all over them, but appeared to be happily unconcerned by the ugliness of his garments or the unexpectedness of his arrival. He waved cheerily to Lee, who welcomed Hogwarts' Keeper of Grounds and Keys home. Coming to a halt at the centre of the field, Hagrid gave Harry a wink.

The other teachers followed, far more self-conscious of the fact that they were walking endorsements for a potions bottler. The robes were unflattering to everyone. Little Professor Flitwick jogged onto the ground, resembling a worried liquorice all-sort, while Professor McGonagall looked just like the sort of tall, thin post one might tie a Venetian gondola to. However, the acting headmistress also wore such a flinty look of defiance that Harry doubted anybody would be brave enough to bring the likeness to her attention.

Last of all, Professor Snape came from the tunnel, wiping his face with a handkerchief. Despite this flimsy attempt to shield his identity, Snape's fans in the top box recognised their hero at once. Lee's commentary was drowned out with rapturous howls, which only subsided after the Lupine Warden shot fireworks from his wand at the hairy women. At no point did Professor Snape turn to view this spectacle. He took his place on the teacher's line beside Filch, and stared grimly at the Hogwarts All School Team. The Potions Master's dark eyes burned with such fury that Harry was certain, had anybody handed Snape a pistol loaded with silver bullets, he would not have hesitated to use it.

Oliver stood between the two teams and cleared his throat. "Captains, shake hands," he ordered. Angelina and Madam Hooch stepped forward and did so. Madam Hooch then bent over to open the wooden box at Wood's feet.

"I think that might be Oliver's job," Professor McGonagall suggested. Madam Hooch stepped back, apologising profusely.

"Mount your brooms," said Wood. He placed his whistle in his mouth and blew. The balls were released from the wooden box and fourteen players shot upwards.

It came as no surprise to Harry that Hagrid turned his enormous broom and headed straight for the goalposts. Professor Trelawney had been conspicuous by her absence. The thing that did come as a surprise was that Filch had left the ground with his teammates. However, Mr. Filch's mode of flying was, even for a novice, decidedly strange. Instead of darting around in the air looking for Bludgers with the other Beaters, Filch remained in the same spot, three metres from the ground, bobbing like a cork. His legs were crossed tightly under his broom as though he did not want it to get away from him. Which was odd, because both broom and rider appeared to be going nowhere.

"Angelina Johnson with first possession of the Quaffle!" Lee's excited voice filled the stadium. "Look at her go! Dodges McGonagall, past Hooch, charges towards the scoring area and - where did that come from?"

Angelina had just been knocked sideways by a Bludger hit from directly beneath her. Looking down, Harry saw Filch cackling. Professor McGonagall caught the dropped Quaffle and sped back up the pitch, while Professor Sprout collected the Bludger and sent it spinning back down to Mr Filch. A second later, Harry had to turn his broom sharply, as the same Bludger rocketed past his knees.

"Interesting tactics from the Hogwarts Staff Team," Lee commented. "McGonagall - pretty quick for someone her age, I must say - passes to Hooch who dives beneath Chang. Chang didn't see that move coming. Hooch gets a nasty Bludger in the back from Crabbe and it's Avery in possession of the dropped Quaffle - well, nearly in possession - no, he's dropped it too, but nicely collected again by Johnson."

Harry moved higher, to avoid another missile from Filch. He scanned the air for the Snitch, trying not to be distracted by the game below. Angelina shot for goal, but the Quaffle bounced off Hagrid's midriff, producing a shout of frustration from Lee.

Below Harry, Professor Flitwick seemed to be chatting gregariously with his Ravenclaw students in the stands. Professor Snape was also ignoring the game, but his behaviour was much less sociable. Snape was stationary on his broom, with his arms folded, glaring at the scoreboard. It was as though he believed the sheer ferocity of his staring could force the scoreboard to award points to the teacher's team. The strategy was ineffective. Even though Madam Hooch managed to score one goal and Angelina found her way around Hagrid twice, it was obvious that the combination of Hagrid's girth and Merlin's skill was going to result in a low scoring game.

George Weasley was also making little contribution to the action, but not for want of trying. He was chasing Bludgers just as energetically as Professor Sprout or Vincent Crabbe, but whenever George came within range of one of the metal balls and took a swing, his bat failed to connect. Harry couldn't understand it - the Weasley twins were two of the best Beaters Hogwarts had ever produced. Harry had never seen George play so dreadfully.

"Another swing and miss from Weasley lets Hooch through to the scoring area," Lee was saying, as Harry dropped down to be level with the goalposts. Merlin executed a fine Starfish and Stick save, but Avery dropped his Keeper's pass. Soon Professor McGonagall was hugging the Quaffle, sweeping in a wide arc around the perimeter of the pitch, close to the ground and heading back to her hoops.

Cho and Angelina pursued McGonagall, Cho urging her Comet Two-Sixty on till she was nearly touching the acting headmistress' bristles. Professor McGonagall was staying as close to the rim of the playing area as she could go, barely metres from the stands. Amazingly, she did not slow down when she reached the scoring area, but hurtled past and commenced another rapid lap of the ground.

Harry had to admit it - Cho could fly fast. She pressed forward until she was alongside Professor McGonagall. Harry sped towards the pair, thinking he might be able to help by cutting across McGonagall's path.

"Shoulder charge her!" Angelina shouted from behind. "What are you afraid of, detention?"

Cho didn't have a chance to try. George appeared in front of them, bat raised and a Bludger ready to fire. He swung, the Bludger thwacked against the bat, and the next thing Harry saw was Cho hitting the ground.

"You useless Horklump!" Angelina was screaming, her face a violent shade of purple. "You hit your own player!" Angelina then retrieved the floating Quaffle, which Professor McGonagall had dropped in surprise, and streaked back towards Hagrid.

Professor McGonagall, Harry and George remained above Cho's unconscious body. "We need a time out," McGonagall said crossly.

Wood blew his whistle to suspend play and swooped down to join them. "Wood, call time out at once," the Professor ordered. "This girl needs a medi-witch."

"Can't," Oliver said bluntly. "Only the captain of the injured player's team calls time out for injuries. Angelina wants to play on."

"That's a daft rule," Minerva McGonagall snapped. "Break it."

"The only exceptions are when the captain's injured," Wood responded obstinately. "Then a team member can make the call. In the old days, you could also get time outs called by next of kin. But that was only if somebody died."

"Well then -" Professor McGonagall's mouth pursed in displeasure. "Tell Hooch that our team needs a time out."

"What for?"

"Exhaustion."

Wood sputtered. "Exhaustion! I couldn't allow that. You've been playing for less than half an hour! Half your team hasn't even moved. And don't tell me there's nothing fishy about the way he's flying." The referee nodded to the section of the pitch where Filch was hovering, then Wood looked down again at Cho. She was lying as motionless as a beautiful, broken china doll. "She didn't fall far. I've seen players get up from worse." Wood blew his whistle and shouted, "Play on!"

Professor McGonagall snorted angrily. "Somebody needs to stay with that poor child. I'll try to make Miss Johnson see sense." She was quickly gone, leaving Harry and George staring at each other.

"I couldn't help it," George said remorsefully.

"She was right in front of you," Harry retorted. He wanted to berate George even more, but the miserable look on his teammate's face stopped him. So they endured an awkward silence together, waiting for Cho to regain consciousness.

After a few minutes, a Bludger whizzed past Harry's ear. Filch leered maliciously at them and took a couple a practice swings with his bat in Harry's direction. "You should go," George said quietly.

"I want to stay," Harry insisted.

"But, you're going to get your head knocked off here. And, if you don't catch the Snitch, I don't think this game's ever going to end."

On reflection, Harry had to agree that George was right. McGonagall was having no luck persuading Angelina to stop, hardly any more points had been scored and Professor Flitwick's chances of locating the Snitch were negligible. He directed his broom high above the field of play and started Seeking in earnest.

Quidditch was hardly ever played in the summer at Hogwarts. Harry soon realised why. The midday sun beat down strongly, causing all manner of things to gleam. George's wristwatch shone brightly, Wood's whistle was dazzling, even the rims of Professor McGonagall's spectacles reflected the sunshine. Looking across the pitch, Harry was certain he spotted the Snitch, but when he streaked towards the stands he discovered it was just the light bouncing off Lee's sunglasses.

"Potter's got the Snitch in his sights," Lee announced enthusiastically. Everybody cheered, or howled, in anticipation of Harry's catch. But when Harry came to an abrupt halt in front of the spectators they let out a groan and Jordan sighed, "Another false alarm, Ladies and Gentlemen."

"Keep your eyes open, Harry!" Somebody cried from the back row of the stadium. Peering into the crowd, Harry spotted Ginny, who was still waving a piece of parchment wildly. "Stay on guard!" she yelled hoarsely, her face red and not altogether friendly.

It was impossible to get any closer to Ginny without going offside. Harry gave her a wave, to acknowledge that he had heard, and then turned back to search for the Snitch. Near the goalpost, Merlin shouted, "How is she?" The Keeper's worried eyes fixed on the place where Cho lay.

"Out cold," Harry said.

"You find that Snitch fast, then," Merlin urged, still looking at Cho. His eyes narrowed and he asked, "What's Weasley got there?"

Harry looked down to see the sun reflecting on George's wristwatch again. But the wristwatch seemed larger - rounder - more golden. Harry pointed his Firebolt directly at George and hurtled to the ground, then pulled up with a shudder as he plucked the Golden Snitch from just above George's left hand.

Lee was shouting, people were cheering and somewhere in the distance Oliver blew his whistle. But all Harry noticed was the shocked expression on George's face. "Where'd that come from?" asked the startled Beater, his eyes wide as he stared at the Snitch.

"Are you trying to be funny?" Harry could no longer conceal his annoyance. "It's not much of a joke. Cho needs help and you sit there with the Snitch in front of your nose!"

Madam Pomfrey had hurried onto the Quidditch pitch the instant the referee's whistle blew, closely followed by Hyperion Fairchilde. Fairchilde and Rhys-Jones lifted Cho onto the stretcher Madam Pomfrey had caused to appear. Angelina flew down to the ground near Harry, dismounted and strode towards George with clenched fists.

"Don't think I don't know what you're playing at, Weasley," she hissed. "You and your brother and your bloody gambling -" Luckily for George, Oliver pulled his broom to a stop in front of the All School Team Captain.

"Congratulations," Oliver said. "A bit of a strange game, but at least you won." He dropped his voice lower and whispered to Angelina, "You might consider disciplining your team off the pitch. You don't want to cause a scene in front of them." He gave a small wave to the officials from the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

"You'll keep," Angelina threatened, as George hurried from the stadium.

Harry walked towards the exit too, with Wood following. When Wood reached the tunnel, he called to the players ahead. "Madam Hooch, Mr Filch, I want to see both of you."

Madam Hooch bounded back, her yellow eyes twinkling and her cheeks flushed. "Ah, Oliver. What fun, eh? I've been teaching the game for so long now - nearly forgot how thrilling it is to play." She laughed and slapped Wood on the back. "Well done, by the way. Wouldn't have guessed you'd never refereed before."

"Thanks." Oliver looked slightly embarrassed. "But, er, there's something, I - something's not right with Mr Filch."

"Really?" Madam Hooch sounded surprised. Harry thought she sounded a little too surprised.

Argus Filch had turned and was approaching them, closely accompanied by Hagrid. In fact, Hagrid was walking directly behind Filch and Hagrid's vast hand was gripping the top of the caretaker's head. When they came to a stop, Hagrid grabbed the back of Filch's robes, as though he expected Filch to try to escape.

Wood pulled a small booklet from his pocket and began to read. "Mr Filch, I have reason to believe, from observation of your general flying behaviour, that you have been riding a broom affected by a jinx or charm. In accordance with the Rules of Quidditch, I must ask you to surrender your broom for inspection."

"Can't we just get Professor Flitwick to check it?" Madam Hooch spoke quickly and her eyes appeared to be darting shiftily from Hagrid to Filch.

"No, er, thanks," Wood hesitantly replied. "I recognised some of the stewards from the League in the crowd. Warwick Capper's up there, I'm sure he can inspect it for us."

Madam Hooch appeared worried yet, oddly, Mr Filch gave a sinister chuckle. His pale, bulging eyes seemed gleeful as he snarled, "Take it if you like. Do what you want. It's a bog-standard school broom." He handed the weather-beaten broom to Oliver.

Oliver headed up the stairs to the spectators' seats, but the three staff members stayed exactly where they were. Hagrid, who had not released his grip on Filch, smiled and said, "See yer later on, Harry." Harry took this as a hint that he should leave the Hogwarts Staff Team to conspire in peace. He headed out the tunnel.

* * * * * * *

Thousands of people were filing from the stadium, many of whom insisted on shaking Harry's hand. Harry stood on his toes to see over the crowd, looking for the one spectator he genuinely wanted to talk to. Eventually, Ginny's red hair was visible at the end of a long line of students.

But when Ginny spied him, her reaction was not at all what Harry expected. Barging through the masses, she walked towards Harry shouting angrily, "What did you think you were doing out there?"

"Er, I, er," Harry stammered, but Ginny did not pause for breath before launching into a tirade.

"Keep your eyes open, I said. Do you have any idea of the danger? But no - you and George had to go ahead and play your silly little games. You're a pair of cheats! Not to mention all the time you wasted drooling over that - that minx!" Ginny's voice was raspy from shouting and her face as red as a tomato. Harry thought this made her freckles look unattractively blotchy. He also couldn't believe that Ginny, of all people, could be so unreasonable.

"Hang on," Harry started to say, while Ginny pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from her pocket. "That's completely unfair!" He was getting annoyed.

"Every minute you're out there,' Ginny scolded as she unfolded the parchment. "Every minute you need to stay on guard -"

"Is that what this is about?" Harry asked accusingly, the blood starting to pound in his ears. "So I didn't catch the Snitch in twenty-five minutes? So what? Cho was hurt. Your brother was hiding the Snitch from me - somehow. He was the one who'd get rich if Avery kept dropping the Quaffle. And frankly - I'm a bit sick of you Weasleys and your money grubbing schemes!"

The minute the words left his mouth, Harry realised he had said something very wrong indeed. During a silence that felt like it lasted for ages, Ginny's large brown eyes revealed such pain that Harry was terrified she might be about to cry. Instead, Ginny bit her trembling lower lip and then softly replied, "If that's what you think, I'm not helping you any more." She crushed the parchment in her hand. "You can't go on like this Harry - not bothering to notice - m -misjudging what you see." Her voice cracked, but her words stayed measured and calm. "Just - just don't get yourself killed by being such a c-clueless twit." Ginny choked back a sob as she turned and ran to the castle.

* * * * * * *

Harry felt terrible, but did not run after Ginny. He had no idea what he could say to her to make things right. Instead, he walked slowly back to the castle, occasionally being waylaid by irritating well-wishers or sceptical folk who wanted to know the secret behind his extraordinary catch.

Once inside, he headed for the hospital wing. For all Cho's faults, she had tried her best on the Quidditch pitch, and had been seriously injured for her efforts. Harry wanted to show his support at her sick bed. To his surprise, when he reached the infirmary, Cho had already been discharged.

"She's fit as a fiddle," Madam Pomfrey said briskly. "Actually, it was a bit unnecessary, having all those boys carry her up here. No reason why she couldn't have walked."

Utterly confused, Harry realised it was time to seek out the two people he knew he could depend on - Hermione and Ron. He also remembered, suddenly and with a pang of guilt, that he needed to warn his friends of Lucius Malfoy's plans for the hospital. The whole stupid business of the Quidditch match had distracted him from everything that was truly important, Harry thought, as he hurried down a marble staircase.

However, finding two invisible people in a space as large as Hogwarts Castle was not going to be easy. Harry supposed that Hermione would be using the library, or maybe even Bunty's office, as a base for her clandestine research. But the library was deserted. Harry knocked loudly on Madam Pince's desk. There was no sign of the elf. So, Harry sat on the cool stone floor outside the library door, leant his Firebolt against the statue of Boniface the Boring, and hoped that either Ron or Hermione would return.

He waited for nearly two hours, and was just about to give up, when a cardboard box overflowing with yellowing scrolls landed with a thud near his feet. Ron's voice, sounding out of breath, said, "Phew, that lot's heavy."

"Hi," said Harry, looking around. Ron was audible, but not visible.

Ron's head appeared, floating near Boniface the Boring's shoulder. He was panting, but grinning broadly, as he explained. "Had to run all the way from the staff room. I think old Binns saw part of me coming out the fireplace. I didn't know the game was over already - how'd it go?"

"It finished hours ago," Harry said testily. He wasn't accustomed to Ron showing so little regard for Quidditch.

"Really?" Ron was amazed. "We've been so busy - must've lost track of time. It's incredible how much stuff that mad elf keeps finding for us." Ron laughed and shook his head. "But every time he finds a really good file, he punishes himself by sticking his head in a bed pan."

"Is Hermione still over there?" Harry asked.

"She's coming back soon."

"Well, when she gets here, tell her that you can't take the files back to the hospital. You have to find somewhere safe to keep them."

"Bunty's letting us stack the boxes in her drawer. That's safe enough. By the time we finish it'll be bigger than the Great Hall in there." Ron gave a nod towards the library door. Through it, Harry could see Bunty climb out of her office and stand on Madam Pince's desk.

"And be careful at the hospital. You can't keep going -" Harry stopped mid-sentence and listened carefully. From within the library, keys jangled, followed by the creak of the Restricted Section's gate. Ron swiftly pulled his head back inside his Invisibility Robes and covered the box.

Professor Snape walked slowly out from the Restricted Section, his hawk-like eyes already fixed on the library doorway. When he saw Harry, the Potions Master bared his teeth in a menacing smile. "Mr Potter, fresh from his victory," he drawled silkily. "No matter that you had to cheat to make that catch, eh, Potter? A trifle obvious, wasn't it? Tampering with a Snitch to make it sit on your Beater's hand."

"I did not," Harry said defiantly.

"Of course you didn't." Snape replied sarcastically, arching his eyebrow. "Protest all you like - there are many witnesses to what you did. And those of us who know you well, who know your lineage, could hardly have expected any better. We'll be playing with a properly vetted Snitch tomorrow." Harry was about to lose his temper when Snape snapped, "Where did Ronald Weasley go?"

"Ron?" Harry tried to look unconcerned.

"I distinctly heard you talking to him."

"Yes, er, well." Harry noticed Bunty raise her skinny arms high and felt a rush of wind beside him. He was sure that Ron had been safely whisked away. "He had to go," Harry said with confidence.

"Was Miss Granger with him?" Snape's dark eyes stared fiercely at Harry. At moments like this, Harry felt as though Professor Snape could read his mind.

"No," Harry said, trying his best not to think of where Hermione might be.

Snape's brow furrowed with concentration as he intensified his stare. He said, very slowly and deliberately, "When you see Miss Granger, you will remind her that I do not like to be kept waiting. Tell her that I will continue to deduct five house points from Gryffindor for every hour she fails to keep her appointment. And now, you will return to your common room. It is apparent you have no business in this library." The Potions Master stepped out the library, drew the door closed behind him and locked it. He then swept down the corridor leading towards the Slytherin dungeons.

When Snape had disappeared from view, Harry pounded on the library door. "Open up, Bunty!" he called. "I need to talk to Ron." The door remained closed.

Harry fished around in his pockets, and then realised that, in his haste, he had not put his knife in his Quidditch robes. He decided to fetch it from the dormitory when a stern, squeaky voice said, "They is not to be disturbed, Harry Potter."

Harry turned around, to see Bunty sitting on Boniface's bronze feet. "I need to give them a message," he said urgently.

"Not to be disturbed. Miss Hermione Granger said not to be disturbed. Harry Potter will go away." Bunty's bony fingers pointed down the corridor. "Tricky knife or not, Bunty's door will not open for Harry Potter!" She clicked her fingers and vanished.

* * * * * * *

Harry loitered around the library for a long while, before accepting the futility of waiting. If Bunty did not want him to talk to Hermione or Ron, he was sure the elf would find a way to prevent it. For all he knew, Hermione had already returned from the hospital. He imagined Bunty could have easily transported her from the staff room directly to the bottom drawer of Madam Pince's desk.

He trudged back to Gryffindor Tower to shower before dinner. Harry grumpily said the password, "Queerditch Marsh," to the Fat Lady, who was waving a red and white striped flag. Stepping through the gap in the wall, he found himself in the middle of a football game that was being played in the common room.

"Wanna play?" puffed Neville, who was keeping goal in front of the fireplace.

"Harry!" Seamus greeted him with a smirk. "Very interesting catch. Are you going to tell us how you did it? George wouldn't say a thing -"

"There's nothing to say," Harry said aggressively. He marched towards the boys' stairway, his broom brushing against an armchair that had been draped with a banner. Lavender and Parvati had painted this sign with Shrieking Shellac, and had taken it to the Quidditch match to catch the attention of their favourite pre-match entertainer. After several hours of shrieking, the sign had just about worn itself out. However, when the Firebolt nudged the banner, it began to wail again at random intervals, "Kirleeeeeeey! Kirleeeeeey!"

He sat alone at dinner, hoping that Ron and Hermione would come, and trying his hardest to avoid everybody's curious glances. To his relief, Ginny did not appear to be eating in the Great Hall. Neither were Fred and George. But Angelina kept shooting him dark looks and the Slytherins were all muttering and sniggering. Cho was surrounded by her large coterie over at the Ravenclaw table, and as far as Harry could tell she had made a full recovery. Even though he was hungry, Harry left dinner early. As he walked out the door, Draco Malfoy said in a loud voice, "Of course, Professor Snape says they'll be using a real Snitch tomorrow."

* * * * * * *

Harry brooded in a corner armchair in the Gryffindor common room, waiting for his friends, until very late. Then he lay on his bed, waiting for Ron, until even later. While Seamus, Dean and Neville slept, Harry listened to the noises of the castle at night. Every now and then, the plaintive cry of, "Kirleeeeeey!" echoed from downstairs. Nearly Headless Nick drifted through the room after midnight, his sepulchral quill scratching on a silvery piece of parchment. Trevor croaked to the rising moon. The clock on the mantelpiece gently chimed, "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

Then Harry heard scurrying noises underneath his bed. Hanging his head over the edge, he discovered Dobby the house-elf, collecting the dirty Quidditch socks that Harry had kicked out of sight. Dobby looked alarmed. "Mister Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby exclaimed in a high-pitched whisper. "Dobby is most awfully sorry. Dobby did not mean to wake you. Let Dobby put you back to sleep." He raised his thumb and index finger, ready to click, when Harry had an idea.

"No - wait, Dobby," Harry said. "Can you do me a favour?"

"Anything." Dobby bobbed up and down cheerfully, so that his wrinkled head collided with the underside of Harry's bed. "Anything at all. Serving Harry Potter is Dobby's greatest, most glorious pleasure -"

"Right. Thanks," Harry interrupted. "Do you know the elf in the library? Bunty?"

Another tiny voice squeaked from the darkness near Dean's bed. "Oh, Dobby knows that nasty Bunty, all right. Dobby knows Miss Nose-in-the-Air-Too-Good-to-Clean-Up-the-Messes. Dobby knows Bossy-Boots Bunty much too well!" Harry realised that Winky was also working in the dormitory, picking up the boys' underwear from the floor with a pair of long tongs.

"Winky is getting bothered by the green eyed monster," Dobby muttered, before giving a little bow. "How may humble Dobby be of assistance?"

"Can you pass a message to Bunty? Tell her Hermione and Ron should be careful at the hospital. Lucius Malfoy wants to get his hands on the files they're taking. I think he might even try to burn them all. Tell Bunty she must warn Ron and Hermione."

Dobby looked very grave. "Dobby will be telling Bunty. Dobby will go right now. But first, Harry Potter should go to sleep."

Harry heard the house-elf's fingers click. He did not hear anything else until morning.