Unfortunately, when they reached the next room they saw a huge troll lying out cold with a bloody lump on its head. Harry and Tonks sighed in disappointment, then wordlessly followed Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore through the next door.
The next room contained Snape's potions challenge. Dumbledore gave Harry and Tonks a chance to analyse the puzzle, which they did despite finding it annoying. The puzzle told them that one bottle would help them move forward, and another backward; that two were nettle wine, and that three were deadly poisons.
As for the clues, they stated that the poison was always to the left of the nettle wine, that the first and last bottles were different but wouldn't help them move forward, that neither the dwarf nor the giant bottles held poison, and that the second-left and second-right bottles were twins in taste, despite looking different.
Harry groaned. "This is Ravenclaw stuff."
"Logic isn't restricted to house, Mr Potter," said Professor McGonagall, watching beside Dumbledore. "Surely you do not wish to be bested by Professor Snape's challenge?"
"No way!" said Tonks, clenching her fists. "He's not even a Ravenclaw himself! We can do this!"
They eyed the bottles from left to right:
Number one was a roundish bottle with brownish liquid within.
Number two was a tall bottle with red liquid within.
Number three was the smallest bottle, with some light-blue liquid within.
Number four was a tall bottle with yellow liquid within.
Number five was a trapezium bottle with green liquid within.
Number six was the tallest bottle, with black liquid within.
Number seven was an round bottle with purple liquid.
"OK," said Harry, surveying the bottles. "The ones on either end won't get us through. So that leaves just the middle five."
Tonks read the paper again, and pointed out the largest and smallest bottles (three and six). "Neither of these are poisons, so at least we know they're safe."
Harry read Snape's final clue again, and frowned. "It says the second-left and second-right ones look different but taste the same. I guess that means they won't get us through. They have to be wine."
"Not quite true," said Professor McGonagall. "What if the potions that move us forward and backward taste the same? Just a thought."
Groaning, Harry decided to settle on the idea of bottles two and six being nettle wine (six couldn't be poison, as it was the 'giant' bottle. Hence two couldn't be poison either). This meant that bottles one and five ought to be poisons. And because bottle one was poison, number seven couldn't be the same.
"Right," said Harry, walking along the table, "if bottle seven can't be poison, wine, or the way forward, then it's definitely the way back. That leaves three and four as either a poison or the way forward."
Tonks gasped in delight. "Four's the third poison! It can't be three, because that's the 'dwarf' bottle!"
Harry eyed the smallest bottle. "So, this is the way forward, then."
"Correct," said Dumbledore, giving a light round of applause (as did Professor McGonagall). "Thirty points to Gryffindor."
"And before I forget," said Dumbledore, "take another ten points for solving the Devil's Snare earlier. And an extra ten for catching the key."
Fifty points! That's like catching a Snitch!
"Erm, sir," said Tonks, lifting the bottle, "there's not much in here."
Professor McGonagall shook her head and smiled. "Now what happened to that useful logic of yours earlier? Of course Professor Dumbledore and I won't be needing that. In fact, none of us ought to be drinking anything."
At that, Dumbledore waved his wand and extinguished the black flames up ahead. Harry clapped his hand to his scar as it ached.
"Are you OK?" Tonks asked, rushing to Harry. "Professor, isn't there something we can do about this? It's hurting him!"
Dumbledore shook his head. "Not at the moment, I'm afraid. Best we keep this to ourselves."
"Agreed," said Professor McGonagall. "There's no telling what misinformation might spread."
Dumbledore looked at the distant doorway. "The final chamber is up ahead. I must ask that both of you stay with Professor McGonagall."
"But I want to see what's happening!" said Tonks, scowling. "I can't stay here doing nothing!"
Dumbledore advised Professor McGonagall to remain near the entrance of the next room. She needn't confront Quirrell at the Mirror.
"What mirror?" Harry asked. "Is that what Voldemort's after?"
"No," said Dumbledore. "He's more interested in the artefact I had secured within. Observe."
Dumbledore crossed the room and went through the doorway. And when Harry and Tonks were escorted by the pale-faced Professor McGonagall, they saw Quirrell pacing at a magnificent mirror. It was nearly as high as the ceiling, had an ornate gold frame, and was standing on two clawed feet.
"Good afternoon, Professor Quirrell."
Quirrell's eyes went wide. "D - D - D - Dumbledore?"
"Is Lord Voldemort here as well?" Dumbledore asked, and Quirrell went even paler than usual. "Hiding in the shadows, perhaps? Or is he taking a nap beneath your turban?"
Again, Harry felt a surge of pain through his scar. He struggled to focus as Professor McGonagall ordered him and Tonks to stay behind, at the doorway.
"My master does not wish to speak with you," said Quirrell. His cold tone (and lack of stutter) took Harry, Tonks, and Professor McGonagall by surprise. "And neither do I."
Dumbledore stood with his wand at his side. "How is that hand doing, might I ask?"
"Potter will not get lucky again," said Quirrell, darting his eyes to Harry. "My master knows what this is."
Harry was about to respond, when his scar surged with pain again.
"Come now," Dumbledore told Quirrell, "surely your master wishes to exchange a few words? How many years has it been, Tom?"
"Tom?" Harry asked, still clutching his scar. "Who's that?"
"Voldemort's real name," said Dumbledore, at which Quirrell gripped his wand tighter. "Tom Marvolo Riddle, to be precise."
"Enough!" said Quirrell, raising his wand. "You dare speak my master's name? He is a far greater wizard than you'll ever be!"
Dumbledore stood unfazed by the remark. "There is little greatness in evil, Quirinus."
"That's where you're wrong, old fool." Quirrell snarled. "Good and evil don't exist. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it."
Professor McGonagall shook her head and sighed. Then she turned to look at Harry and Tonks in the doorway, and said, "I sincerely hope you do not follow such ridiculous beliefs."
"I wouldn't talk, if I were you," said Quirrell, still standing at the mirror. "You are no better than any other Dumbledore-follower I know. That aging fool has kept our world ignorant for far too long. My master will lead us to greatness."
"He's so full of it," said Harry, still clutching his scar. "Must have been a Slytherin or something."
"Ravenclaw," said Professor McGonagall. "But now's not the time for bringing up school-houses, Potter."
"Potter!" said Quirrell, looking at Harry. "You're wasting your life associating with this lot. They'll never allow you to reach your potential."
"Get stuffed!" said Tonks, raising her wand. "He's not dumb enough to fall for that!"
"Last chance, Potter. You're only sabotaging yourself by following Dumbledore. Come to the right side."
Harry felt a strong sense of déjà vu but ignored it. "I think I can tell the right side for myself, thanks."
"Spoken like a true sheep," said Quirrell, scoffing. "Enjoy your dumbed-down curriculum at this laughable school."
Professor McGonagall snorted. "Such irony."
"Your words mean nothing," said Quirrell, looking ready to duel. "I shall dispose of – argh!"
He staggered to the right, holding onto the side of the mirror, as a skull-like spirit shot out the back of his turban. It streaked through the air and passed through the back wall of the chamber.
Was that ... Voldemort?
"M - Master?" Quirrell asked, feeling the back of his turban. "He's ... he's gone!"
Dumbledore nodded. "Not an uncommon occurrence, I must say."
"But ... where did he go?" Professor McGonagall asked, looking around. "There's no telling what he'll do next!"
"Lord Voldemort has fled," said Dumbledore, with his usual air of calm. "And he's in no position to be casting spells at the moment."
Harry pointed his wand at Quirrell. "And what about him?"
"W - wait," said Quirrell, now standing alone against Dumbledore. "You-Know-Who was affecting my mind! I could hardly control myself! P - please, you must understand!"
Dumbledore kept his wand raised. "Surrender, and I shall arrange for the Aurors to take you into custody."
"A - and then what?" Quirrell asked, eyes widened. "I'm n - not going to Azkaban, am I?"
"The odds aren't in your favour," said Dumbledore, and Quirrell's expression hardened.
"I see ... Avada Kedavra!"
Wait, isn't that –
Several things happened within seconds; Harry stared, transfixed, at the bright-green light headed his way. Tonks and Professor McGonagall gasped while grabbing Harry. Dumbledore waved his wand. And then a wall-like structure of rocks jutted out from the stone floor.
"Coward!" yelled Professor McGonagall to Quirrell.
But no sooner had the Killing Curse smashed into the rocks than a huge, fiery serpent came out of nowhere in the air. It swooped down at Dumbledore.
"Fiendfyre," said Professor McGonagall, ushering Harry and Tonks back to the puzzle room. "That's immensely difficult to extinguish!"
Harry caught sight of Dumbledore as the Headmaster waved his wand. There was no kindly, grandfatherly look on his face now.
"I'm sorry, you two," said Professor McGonagall, "but this is for your own good."
And just as Harry saw the Fiendfyre-serpent spin around in midair, he found his eyes blindfolded and his ears covered by conjured earmuffs. They refused to come off until the spells were lifted, some time later.
"Hey! Why did you –" Harry stopped as he caught side of the mirror room. "Oh, now I see."
Tonks, who'd been blindfolded and earmuffed, too, stood in shock. Her hazel eyes went wide at the sight of black-ashes lying scattered to the right of the chamber.
"Is that –"
"The late Quirinus Quirrell, yes," said Dumbledore, standing near the ashes. "Burned by his own cursed fire."
"Which you sent back, right?" Harry asked, and Dumbledore nodded. "Wish I could've seen it."
"Absolutely not!" said Professor McGonagall, while Tonks agreed with Harry.
"He deserved it!" she said, before turning to face Harry. "Are you all right?"
Harry nodded, while his heart still thumped in his chest. He couldn't believe he'd seen the Killing Curse like that!
"Forget it," said Harry, turning his attention to the mirror. "Why all the fuss over that thing anyway? What exactly's in there?"
And so, with the danger having passed (for now), Dumbledore explained about the Philosopher's Stone and its importance to Voldemort. Harry and Tonks were shocked to hear that such an item existed.
"Can we just hold it?" Tonks asked.
"Can we test it?" Harry added.
Professor McGonagall, however, was shocked for an altogether different reason. "What is wrong with you two? You nearly witnessed a man die, for goodness sake!"
Good riddance. "Why should I care?" said Harry, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. "He served Voldemort and threw the Killing Curse at me! And don't forget about my broom!"
Professor McGonagall looked at Dumbledore, who remained impassive.
"I can hardly fault their reaction, Minerva. And as for the Stone, well, I suppose it would not hurt."
While Dumbledore approached the strange mirror, Tonks took Harry by the shoulders and shook him in excitement.
"We're going to see the Philosopher's Stone!"
Before long, Dumbledore returned with a blood-red stone in his hand. He passed it to Harry and Tonks, who held it up to the torchlight and expressed their amazement.
"You know," said Tonks, clutching the Stone, "we could empty all the shelves in Honeydukes and Zonko's with this thing."
"We could make the Elixir of Life!" said Harry. "Live a bit longer. Maybe ... one-sixty or so?"
"Two hundred!" said Tonks.
Harry grinned as he eyed the Stone. "I could buy the whole team new brooms!"
"Or," said Professor McGonagall, "you could give it back and not dwell on it."
"My thoughts exactly," said Dumbledore. "Yes, it may give you as much money and life as you could want, but the trouble is, humans have a knack of choosing precisely those things which are worst for them."
Harry remained silent while staring at the Stone in his hand. Dumbledore continued.
"Take Voldemort, for example. Some might say he has grown insane over the years, but I beg to differ. The Voldemort you see today is the true Tom Riddle; a bright wizard who has made all the wrong choices himself."
Tonks frowned. "We're not going to turn evil just because of a magical stone. Can't we just make a bit of gold, please?"
"The Philosopher's Stone," said Dumbledore, "is a powerful lure to the wrong side. It takes an exceptional wizard to resist such temptations."
Harry flipped the Stone over in his hand. Was he an exceptional wizard, too?
"So, what now?" asked Tonks, eyeing the Stone. "You sending it back to the Flamels?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Naturally."
Tonks groaned. Then there was a moment of silence before Harry changed the topic.
"Sir, about Quirrell ... why couldn't he touch me?"
Dumbledore smiled as he explained about Lily's love for Harry, and the protection it brought. There was no way that the hateful, greedily ambitious, Voldemort-hosting Quirrell could hope to touch someone marked by something so good.
"But Quirrell said Voldemort's figured it out," said Harry. "What if he tries another way of coming back?"
Dumbledore explained that since Voldemort was not truly alive, he could not be killed. However, so long as someone was prepared to fight, then Voldemort may never return to power.
"But can he be stopped?" asked Tonks, frowning. "This can't go on and on forever!"
"Anything is possible," said Dumbledore, stroking his beard, "relatively speaking. For now, however, I would suggest that you focus on your studies. I believe you have History of Magic next, correct?"
Harry shrugged. "We were supposed to have a Defence practical right about now."
Professor McGonagall gave a slight snort. "You just did, in a way."
"Perhaps you should distribute the good news, Minerva. Inform the other students that their practical has been cancelled."
"Will do," said Professor McGonagall, taking her leave.
"Erm, sir," said Harry, as Dumbledore turned to leave as well. "I've still got two more questions."
"Fire away."
"What does that magical mirror actually do?" Harry asked, pointing to the huge mirror. "It can't just be to hide a Philosopher's Stone."
"Correct," said Dumbledore, looking at the mirror. "The Mirror of Erised shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts."
"Do you want to examine it?" Tonks asked Harry, who shook his head. "Are you sure?"
"I'd probably see myself with my family," said Harry, lowering his gaze to the floor. "No sense in getting worked up, I suppose."
Dumbledore placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. "That is perfectly understandable. The Mirror gives us neither knowledge nor truth, and has driven many a wizard mad before it."
"I wonder what I'll see?" said Tonks, placing a finger on her chin as she thought hard. "Probably the world's best prank or something. I don't know."
Dumbledore gestured to the Mirror. "You are welcome to have a look. But bear in mind what I have said."
Grinning, Tonks walked over to the Mirror and stood still. She looked perplexed for a while, then sniggered as she left.
Yep. Definitely a prank.
"All done!" said Tonks, beaming. "It wasn't that bad, really. And no, I'm not saying what it is."
Dumbledore bowed his head slightly. "Fair enough." Then he turned to face Harry. "I believe you had another question?"
"Who's going to be our next Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher? Will it be you?"
"Ah ..." Dumbledore chuckled. "I was wondering whether you'd be asking that. No, it will not be me."
Harry sighed. "It better not be another Quirrell."
"Speaking of whom," said Dumbledore, "his demise will undoubtedly cause much difficulty for this post. I may be looking at a rather short list next year."
They left the chambers and returned to the third floor. As expected, the news of their cancelled practical elicited much celebrations among the first-years. Everyone except Hermione cheered outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, though they quickly went silent upon hearing of Quirrell's fate.
"Wait, what?"
"He was a Dark wizard?"
"Quirrell?"
"He was faking it?"
"But ... why?"
Having made the decision to avoid speaking about Voldemort's involvement, Harry and Tonks clarified what Professor McGonagall had announced. They were treated like instant celebrities (more so than usual), with many of their classmates enquiring about their adventures.
"All right, all right," said Tonks, having retold their modified story for the umpteenth time, "Harry and I are going to go study for History of Magic now. You'd better not disturb us."
"Can we come with?" Ron asked, gesturing to the rest of Harry's roommates. "History's far too boring to be studying alone."
Harry looked at Tonks, then back at Ron. "Yeah, sure."
And they left the corridor in search of an abandoned classroom upstairs.
By the following morning, word had spread throughout the school that Quirinus Quirrell had sought to steal the Philosopher's Stone. They were even more shocked to read that the Flamels had destroyed it, though Harry could understand their decision.
When Harry sat down in the sweltering classroom for his History of Magic exam, he was immediately accosted by Malfoy and Zabini.
"Nice going, Scarhead," said Malfoy to the right. "If you weren't hanging out with the wrong sort, you'd've made the proper decision."
"Yeah," said Zabini on the left. "But I guess that's what happens when you put a bunch of Gryffindors together. We Slytherins would've taken the Philosopher's Stone for ourselves."
Harry let out a derisive snort. "Yeah, and killed each other over it."
But Malfoy ignored the remark. "Father always said that Dumbledore makes us all dumber. Potter's a perfect example."
"Agreed," said Zabini.
Dumbledore's words flashed through Harry's mind once again: but the trouble is, humans have a knack of choosing precisely those things which are worst for them. And Harry agreed.
Not too long thereafter, Professor Binns told them to keep silent and get started on their papers. Harry turned his over and ignored Malfoy and Zabini.
1) Who led the Gargoyle Strike in the twentieth century?
'A group of wildcat Gargoyles', Harry wrote.
2) In what year did the Gargoyle Strike take place?
'1911.'
3) What does the term 'wildcats' refer to?
Harry wrote about the Gargoyles, themselves, who had gone on an unauthorised strike.
4) In what year did the Soap Blizzard occur?
Harry remembered reading about a storm of soap which crashed the wizarding economy back in the day, though the exact date eluded him. Taking a guess, Harry wrote '1438'.
5) Who was Emeric the Evil?
'A Dark wizard who terrorised the south of England during the Middle Ages.'
6) Describe at least one thing which Emeric the Evil was feared for.
In addition to writing about Dark magic, Harry gave a brief mention of how Emeric the Evil was known to possess a particularly powerful wand.
7) What was Emeric the Evil's fate?
'He was slaughtered by a wizard named Egbert', Harry wrote, though Egbert's title evaded Harry. Was it 'the Agracious', perhaps? Harry couldn't remember.
8) Which wizard was best known for wearing a jellyfish as a hat?
'Uric the Oddball.'
9) In which period did this wizard live? And which song did he listen to for three months straight?
'The Middle Ages. Fwooper', Harry wrote.
10) What did Uric do as a result of listening to that song?
'He showed up at the Wizard's Council wearing nothing but a dead badger.'
11) Who invented the Self-Stirring Cauldron, and when?
'Gaspard Shingleton', Harry wrote, though he forgot the exact date.
The last four questions concerned the goblin uprisings, though Harry hadn't remembered as much as he'd hoped. He skimmed through the section and only provided a brief overview in his answers.
When the bell rang, Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment. Harry couldn't help cheering with the rest as they celebrated the end of their exams.
"No more exams!" Tonks yelled in the corridor. "Good riddance!"
But that wasn't the only reason to celebrate. The next day, Harry wished Tonks well for her birthday as he handed over her present. Tonks squealed in delight then chortled as she unwrapped the large slab of Honeydukes chocolate.
"Copycat!" she said, referring to her Christmas present to Harry. Still, she beamed and pulled him into a tight hug. "Here's what I want next; you'd better win the Cup, got it?"
Harry returned the hug in a somewhat-awkward manner. "Er, yeah. No promises."
Fortunately, Gryffindor outplayed Ravenclaw in their final later that morning. A tearful Oliver Wood lifted the Quidditch Cup in triumph, after which the whole team was hoisted onto the shoulders of the Gryffindor crowd. Even Percy Weasley jumped up and down like a maniac.
It was the best day of Harry's life ... well, one of the best, at least.
On Sunday, Harry visited Dumbledore's office to discuss the issue of the Dursleys again. As expected, Dumbledore gave a long-winded (yet vague) explanation of Harry needing to at least spend part of his holidays there for his own protection. And although Harry would like nothing more than to ditch the Dursleys entirely, he wasn't in the mood for a long round of arguments. He accepted Dumbledore's suggestion to spend a fortnight at the Dursleys, after which Harry could spend the rest of his holidays at the Tonkses.
It's better than nothing, I guess.
"Bear in mind, however," said Dumbledore, sitting at his desk, "that it will take some time to fortify the Tonkses' residence and its surroundings as much as possible. There is a fine line between thorough protection and practicality – or rather, convenience."
After that, Harry spent much of the next few weeks studying. He focused on the theory and practice of Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration. Meanwhile, Tonks spent a fair bit of time flying Harry's Cleansweep Seven, setting up a few pranks (particularly against Malfoy's lot, who retaliated with a few curses which Tonks took cover from), and otherwise having a blast with most of the other first-year Gryffindors (except Hermione, who preferred to study alone in the library).
Tonks even convinced Harry to join in on occasion, resulting in Harry enjoying a game or two of wizard's chess, Gobstones, and broom tag (which he won by a landslide). They played broom tag in the Quidditch stadium when it wasn't too full, after which Ron and the others reminisced over their winter flying-lessons, while walking up the sloping lawns.
"Remember when Seamus slipped off his broom?" Ron asked, chortling. "That was hilarious!"
Seamus shook his head. "Nah, you can't beat when Neville crashed and somersaulted. Got a splash of snow in me face that day."
They all laughed at Neville. He went pink in the face but chuckled as well.
"I remember bumping into Hermione," said Lavender, pointing to the distance. "Happened around there, I think."
Parvati nodded. "That was during the formation lesson. Hermione turned too early and knocked you both into the snow!"
"Shame," said Lavender, giggling, "and she was trying so hard."
Tonks snorted with laughter all of a sudden. "I almost flew towards the Whomping Willow!"
"Now that's just dumb," said Fay Dunbar, shaking her head.
Shortly thereafter, Harry and Tonks decided to pay a visit to Hagrid. They spoke about their upcoming holidays and all manner of things until Hagrid passed Harry a handsome, leather-covered book. Harry's and Tonks's mouths fell open when they saw the collection of wizard photographs within, including Lily and James on every page.
Wow. I really do have Mum's eyes! And Dad's face and hair!
"Thought yeh might like that," Hagrid said, and Harry beamed.
"Of course I do! It's brilliant!"
Tonks agreed. "Better than a mad mirror, huh?"
The exam results came out at the end of term. Harry took a seat beside Tonks at a common-room table on Friday afternoon, then ripped open his long-awaited envelope and read:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
FIRST-YEAR EXAMINATIONS RESULTS
Minimum pass grade: 50%.
HARRY JAMES POTTER HAS ACHIEVED:
Astronomy: 68%
Charms: 118%
Defence Against the Dark Arts: 136%
Herbology: 75%
History of Magic: 72%
Potions: 76%
Transfiguration: 110%
Average: 94%
"Wow, Harry!" said Tonks, leaning closer to read with him. "That's wicked!"
"Can I see yours?"
"Sure," said Tonks, turning her parchment to face him. It read:
NYMPHADORA VULPECULA TONKS HAS ACHIEVED:
Astronomy: 70%
Charms: 91%
Defence Against the Dark Arts: 113%
Herbology: 66%
History of Magic: 68%
Potions: 72%
Transfiguration: 82%
Average: 80%
"Not bad," said Harry, sitting back in his chair. "I wonder what Hermione got, though?"
The answer to that soon came as Hermione approached Harry's table. She asked to exchange results, at which Harry and Tonks showed their parchments, and Hermione handed over hers.
HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER HAS ACHIEVED:
Astronomy: 92%
Charms: 112%
Defence Against the Dark Arts: 118%
Herbology: 89%
History of Magic: 120%
Potions: 86%
Transfiguration: 98%
Average: 102%
"I'm pretty sure I came first," Hermione said, taking back her results. She went to check the noticeboard, then came back smiling. "Yes! First place!"
Tonks gave a polite smile. "Er, that's great. Well done."
"Maybe you'll do better next year," Hermione said, pushing her nose in the air. "In any case, we should be getting ready for the end-of-term feast. It's amazing how quickly the year's gone, isn't it?"
Later that evening, after changing into his plain black robes with pointed black hat in his dormitory, Harry exchanged results with his roommates. They whistled at Harry's marks and said that he was well on his way to prefect, which Harry took in stride. For comparison, Neville scored an average of sixty-three per cent (helped quite a bit by his Herbology mark of eighty-seven per cent), Dean and Seamus scored averages of sixty-five per cent each, and Ron scored an average of sixty-eight per cent.
"No shame in coming second to Harry Potter, I guess," Ron said. He turned to face Harry and returned his results parchment. "Would be cool if you could overtake Hermione next year, though. That'll teach her."
They made their way down to the Entrance Hall, then into the Great Hall. Harry felt sickened to see it decked out in the Slytherin colours of green and silver, to celebrate Slytherin's seventh House Cup in a row. He caught Malfoy's eye in the Hall and saw him looking extremely smug.
"Pathetic," said Tonks to Harry, as they made their way to the far end of the Gryffindor table. "They only won because of Snape over the years. How is this fair?"
Harry glared at Snape at the staff table. He looked every bit as smug as the rest of his house. "Git. We'd better win it next year, though."
"We will!" said Tonks, huffing. "And we'll do it without needing a stupid, ugly Potions master to favour us!"
About ten minutes later, the babble around the Great Hall died as Dumbledore stood up to speak.
"Another year gone!" he said in a cheerful manner. "And before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast, I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle. What a year it has been! Hopefully, your heads are all a little fuller than they were ... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts.
"Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding and the points stand as such: in fourth place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and ninety-five points; in third, Ravenclaw, with four hundred and thirty; in second, Gryffindor, with four hundred and sixty-two; and in first place, Slytherin, with four hundred and eighty points!"
There was a storm of cheering and stamping at the Slytherin table. Harry clenched his fists as he saw Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight.
"Look at those stinking gits," Harry said, tightening his lips. "We'll see who's laughing next year."
When Dumbledore took his seat, Harry saw Professor McGonagall shaking Snape's hand with a painfully forced smile. The horribly smug look on Snape's face sent a surge of hatred through Harry.
Wish Dad were here to put him in his place.
It was an awkward feast, to say the least.
The next morning, after breakfast, Harry and Tonks came across Malfoy and friends in the Entrance Hall. The conversation went almost exactly as Harry had anticipated.
"See? What did I tell you, Potter?" said Malfoy, sneering. "I warned you not to join the wrong side, but you didn't listen! How does it feel to miss out on seven consecutive House-Cup victories? We did it seven times, Potter!"
Harry scoffed. "With the help of a certain questionable 'professor', of course."
"Doesn't matter," said Malfoy. "We still won, and you lost. You'll never win the Cup seven years in a row!"
"You do realise," Harry said, "that you won't be winning it next year, right? So you, yourself, will never win it seven times in a row during your stay here."
Malfoy remained sneering. "Who cares? I can at least say that my house won it seven in a row. Can you?"
"You never know," said Tonks, with a haughty look on her face. "Anything can happen from this point onwards."
Just then, more students began passing through the Entrance Hall. Harry saw the seventh-year Slytherins boasting non-stop to the other houses about having won it each year during their stay. It was a nauseating sight.
"Hope you're ready to lose next year," said Harry, exiting the castle. "We'll be taking both Cups, thank you."
Pansy Parkinson jeered behind Harry's and Tonks's backs as they left. "Losers! Up Slytherin seven!"
"Gryffindor sucks!" said Malfoy, cackling.
I hate that piece of rubbish.
Ignoring Malfoy's lot, Harry and Tonks watched the departing seventh-year students follow Hagrid to the boats. There was a mix of tears and excitement as the seventh-years prepared to leave as they first came; a time-honoured Hogwarts tradition.
"That'll be us someday, huh?" Tonks said, and Harry nodded. "I wonder how we'll look?"
Harry felt a rush of pride. "I'll probably look like my dad. You can change however you want."
"There's always Transfiguration, if you're not happy." Tonks sniggered. "Just watch out for the odd counter-spell or two."
After that, they joined the crowd of students at the horseless stagecoaches, parked near the front gates. It was a warm and cosy trip down to Hogsmeade station, where they boarded the scarlet steam-engine.
At King's Cross later that afternoon, Harry and Tonks had to wait in line to pass through the magical barrier. People jostled them as they finally stepped forward; and once he was through, Harry saw the youngest Weasley point him out in an excited manner to Mrs Weasley.
"It's a real pity you can't come now," said Tonks, when she saw her parents on the platform. "I mean, it's not that hard to see that you don't like your Muggles."
Harry caught sight of Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley Dursley standing a good distance away from Tonks's parents. The Dursleys were eyeing them with shrewd suspicion, and when Harry and Tonks were approached by Mr and Mrs Tonks, the Dursleys' worst suspicions were confirmed.
"Had a good term?" Mr Tonks asked, smiling down at them.
"Definitely," said Harry. And before he could say another word, Tonks swiped Harry's results parchment from his side pocket, then showed it to her parents.
"See here! Harry almost got a hundred per cent as his average!"
"Brilliant!" said Mr Tonks, shaking Harry's hand.
"And where's yours?" Mrs Tonks asked Tonks, who handed hers over. "Huh. Eighty per cent's not too bad, I suppose. Well done."
Harry and Tonks beamed from the congratulations; although in Harry's case, he felt a strange mix of joy and sadness at that moment. Sure, it was a wonderful feeling to be acknowledged by these parent figures, but it would've been a lot better had it been Lily and James themselves.
"Ready, are you?" said Vernon. He was still purple-faced, still moustached, and still looking furious at the nerve of Harry to be carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. A fair distance behind him stood Dudley and Petunia, the former looking particularly frightened of Harry.
"Ah," said Mr Tonks in a friendly manner. "You must be Harry's uncle. I see you drive a Vauxhall Cavalier. Mark three, is it?"
"Yes, yes, sure," said Vernon, ushering Harry away. Once out of the station, he muttered, "Effing freak thinks he can talk normal with me, eh? Keep your lunatics away, boy!"
Harry said nothing until they were in the car. "By the way, the Headmaster said I can visit them after two weeks."
"I think not!" said Vernon, joining the heavy traffic on the road. "I will not have you learning any freakish nonsense over the holidays!"
Petunia agreed. "You'll be doing chores and everything else associated with a normal life. Isn't that right, Dudders?"
Dudley nodded in a subdued manner. But Harry knew that it was only a matter of time until Dudley would return to his usual ways, especially once the Dursleys figure out that Harry couldn't use magic at home (surely Petunia ought to know that already?).
For now, however, Harry sat back and couldn't wait until the eleventh of July. He knew the Tonkses would be pulling up with a car, like perfectly normal people. It would be tough for the Dursleys to cause a scene on their own front lawn.