"Harry, wake UP!"
Grrrooaann.
"Come on, we're gonna be late!"
"Ugh, fine!"
As Harry finally got up and got dressed, I tried to shake the feeling that something was different. Something really wasn't right this morning at Hogwarts, and I had to figure out what it was. Too bad Harry and I had Quidditch practice at 9.
"All set," he grumbled.
I tossed his broomstick to him javelin style and watched hopelessly as it thonked him square in the face.
"Git," He snapped.
"Harry, what the Devil is your problem? You've been acting like a total jerk these past few days," I remarked.
"Nothing."
"Tell me."
"Screw you."
"Ew, no thanks. Now tell me!"
Harry looked at me with a sort of constipated look. He began to speak hesitantly as we walked slowly across the Quidditch field.
"Tom was here last night. Tom Riddle. He's back from the dead," He croaked.
