Disclaimer : Don't own it. Don't make money out of it.

A/N : again the non beta version which will be replaced later.

Chapter four: Petunia's reversal and consequences

If something can be said about Petunia it's that she never was a pretty girl. That's probably how it all began. Had she not looked the way she did, with her bony features and her horse-like face, she may have turned up a better woman.

As a child, she never was really talkative. She preferred to watch. Especially people. She soon realised though, that it seemed to unnerve them. It sure unnerved her parents. They became awkward towards her. They kept at a slight distance, asking her if she was all right but not really listening to her answers. Not that she always had one. She tried once to be a little more cheerful but regretted it at once: people seemed to think that she had gone crazy and besides, being cheerful while you didn't feel like it was quite tiresome. So she came back to her old self.

She remembered exactly the moment her life changed for good. She was two. She had been left at home with a nanny and was waiting impatiently for her father to return. He had left to go and fetch her mum at the hospital. She had had a baby. A little girl. Petunia loved her already with all her little heart She had seen her mama's belly getting bigger and bigger everyday. She had even felt the baby quicking once or twice when her mama allowed her near. She just couldn't wait to see the baby for real. She had not seen her yet; her daddy had said it would be better if she stayed at home and took patience for, you see, he didn't want her mama to get more tired than she already was.

Then, her parents came back. Petunia had heard the car coming and had run to the corridor. She was there in time to see her father, charged with bags, holding the door for her mother. Both were smiling and looking lovingly at what she supposed was her new sister. All she saw from where she was was a colourful bundle of blankets. She managed to catch a glimpse of a small mouth and rosy cheeks when her parents passed by her in the stairs. They headed for their bedroom, completely engrossed in their baby.

Petunia had felt left out. Had her parents ever looked at her that way? She had gone back to the living room and had watched television with the nanny until her dad came back downstairs some time later to pay her. She was made dinner, tucked into bed and… that was it. She didn't see the baby that evening nor for a few days after. Her father told her her mama still needed time to recover but she knew he was lying. He wasn't even looking at her. From that day on, she knew she wasn't wanted.

If asked now about her childhood, Petunia Dursley would simply shrug and say "I wasn't what my mother expected". She had come to realise, as years passed, that it all came down to that, really. Mrs Evans, for all she appeared to be a perfect wife and wonderful mother, used to live in a fantasy world. She had always been pretty and popular and had used those qualities to create her own fairy tale. She married a good man, lived in a cosy house with a beautiful garden. She loved flowers to the point of obsession and named her daughters after them. She shaped her life to make it what she dreamt it to be as a little girl. Everything that wasn't true to that dream was brushed aside.

Unfortunately for Petunia, she had been one of these things.

The day she realised there was nothing she could do to make her mother love her, hurt her more than anything. She was eighteen at that time. Up to that day, she had still naively hoped for some kind of miracle. She had tried to give her mother some of the perfection she so seemed to crave by always being top of her class. So, when she came back home that day knowing she was admitted in the greatest university of the country to study chemistry, she at least expected her mother to show approval. There was none. Only a curt nod before she began talking about Lily again. Sweet and oh, so pretty Lily, who happened to live among people only heard off in fairy tales.

Things worsened from then on. Petunia, who no longer had any hope left, saw her jalousy for Lily spiral out of control. She came to hate everything that was, in one way or an other, related to her sister. She forgot all the good times she had spent with her sister, from their games when they were still little, to the way they shared everything that happened in their lives. Petunia knew more about the magical world than people thought. Before she severed all ties with Lily, she used to read all her class book carefully and talk about them with her sister for hours. She had known, long before her mother and father, that the magical world wasn't the Eden they thought it to be. Lily had told her once about a dangerous man but she didn't seem to take him seriously. Her boyfriend sure didn't.

Petunia didn't go to her sister's wedding. She first learnt about Harry when Lily appeared one day at her door. She was starting to show. Had Petunia known it was to be the last time she saw her sister alive, she may have accepted her peace offering. As it was, she wasn't ready for that yet, having only begun to live her own life with her husband. Years later, while talking with Mrs Figg, she learnt that was the day Lily went into hiding.

After Lily's death, she agreed to take her baby in. She hated it at first sight though. He already looked so much like his father. Stupid man who thought he was so much better than Voldemort. So the years passed, Petunia ignoring Harry the way she had been ignored all her childhood and turning a blind eye to her husband's behaviour. That is, until the Dementors attacked her house.

Petunia told Harry, before he left for his sixth year at Hogwarts, that she never harboured any warm feeling toward him. However, for all she loathed his presence in her house, she didn't want him dead. Dislike was one thing but to wish someone harm was a totally different prospect altogether and that was a line Petunia was unable to cross. Therefore, all spiteful behaviour seemed uncalled for, and besides, she had become rather tired of it.

For the first time in her life, Petunia wanted to let the past go and take a hold on her existence again.

Draco Malfoy wasn't sure about anything anymore.

Until now, he had always been self-confident. Since he was born, his life has been filled with certainties. Certainty of his own right. Certainty of his worth. Certainty regarding his beliefs. His father was the living incarnation of everything he stood for. He looked up to him, worshiped him, even. His only wish had been to resemble him.

It was all Scarface's fault if his life had changed so much.

Draco Malfoy hated Potter with a vengeance. It had been so since they first met and the boy dared to refuse his friendship. Since then, they had been fighting for petty reasons and it could have stayed that way for yet an other year had Potter not given his father up to the Aurors. Now Lucius was jailed in Azkaban, locked in a dark cell like a dog, waiting for his execution. Draco had heard stories about the place. Who knew how long his father would be able to keep his sanity? Even without the Dementors around, there was still an atmosphere of death surrounding the place that no prisoner was totally immune to. Draco hated the thought of his father, diminished in any way, loosing some of his grace and presence with every hour.

Draco had thought he should make Potter pay as he had promised him he would. His heart craved revenge. He wanted Potty to bleed to death.

He couldn't do it.

He, the proud son of a Death Eater was unable to finish a defenceless boy off. There were many curses he could have used to make him writhe on the floor and spit his blood until he begged for mercy… He chose to use his hands instead. He knew, deep down, that Potter was doing him a good turn. He no longer had to worry about joining Voldemort or disappointing his father by not doing so. He was free, as much as possible anyway, and could stay so if he played his cards right. Why did his father's death had to be the price for such a liberty?

What disturbed Draco was Potter's reaction to the incident. Honestly… Talking! Had their positions been reversed, he would not have been so nice. Draco had paced his room all day long, trying to decipher what to expect from Golden Boy. Perhaps Potter wanted to blackmail him into being his slave for the school year. That way, he would impress upon the school who the boss really was and stop the gossips at once. Draco snorted. Nah, it just wasn't Potter's style, had to be the perfect hero, that one.

"Draco, get ready," said his godfather from behind the door.

Draco gulped, unable to speak because of the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. Time for the detention. He met with his godfather at the door and followed him to an empty lab adjoining to the potion's classroom. He sat on a dusty chair and tried to keep himself busy by watching the place. He could feel his godfather's eyes on him but did his best to keep a blank face and look nonchalant. It wouldn't do to show anybody he was scared.

"Aren't you supposed to wait in the classroom?" he asked Snape.

"Punctuality has never been Potter's forte " answered Snaped with a smirk.

Draco, even if he didn't show it, appreciated his godfather's presence while he waited. It made him feel safe, a feeling he no longer tasted now that his father wasn't there and that his mother was too busy with trying to protect his inheritance from the Ministry's clutches. Suddenly, his godfather went to the door and Draco felt his throat constrict once more. It seemed that Potter had finally arrived. He heard his godfather scold him for his tardiness and a low mumbling that could only be Potter's feeble excuse in answer. The door to the lab opened and sure, here Potter was. His hair was even more messier that usual and his eyes half closed still, as if he had spent the last hour sleeping. It angered Draco to obviously be the only one worrying about that meeting.

"Fifteen minutes," barked Snape before leaving them alone.

Harry gave a start. He blushed, visibly annoyed.

"Does he really have to be such a bitch about it?" he mumbled for himself.

"I beg your pardon?" asked Draco innocently.

Potter didn't answer him. Instead he took a look at the lab they were in. It didn't take long. Apart from empty bottles and some cobwebs, there wasn't much to see. Soon Potter's eyes were on him again. Draco waited for him to talk but nothing came out. Potter simply kept looking at him. Fine. He too could play this game. Draco closed his hands in his lap. Five minutes passed that way. Each of them got lost in his own thoughts. Then, Potter began staring at him, obviously thinking hard. The idea of it almost made Draco smile. However, the sudden attention unnerved him and five minutes later, he was the first to break.

"Lost your tongue, Potty?"

The mockery didn't seem to affect his archenemy in any way. Draco felt like he was being manipulated. The fact that it was Potty doing this to him made him all the angrier. He couldn't stand the idea of being ridiculed by a Gryffindor.

"What is it that you want, Poter." He spat with all the venom he could muster. "Revenge? Please, be my guest. May I suggest a round of crucio to begin with the festivities? Oh!" Draco exclaimed, feigning commiseration. "I forgot you are too much of a coward to use it. A pathetic excuse of a wizard, you are. Unable to avenge his own godfather. Such a pity, really. Makes me wondering if you ever liked him a much as you claimed…"

Almost there, thought Draco. He could see Potter's fists clenched at his side and the murderous look the boy was giving him.

"Did you want to join him?" he murmured. "Did you thought about going through that veil?"

Draco paused to observe the teen.

"You have, haven't you?" he probed.

Draco's gaze hardened.

"Well, you should have!" he shouted. "I, for once, would be so better off if you were dead! You've only brought me pain since the day I met you! If I had not been interrupted earlier, I would finally have got rid of you!"

Draco stopped, panting heavily. Potter wasn't looking at him anymore. Damn, he wasn't even looking angry anymore. He had taken one of the dusty stool while Draco was still ranting and just sat there, a little slouched. What he was thinking about, Draco didn't know. The Slytherin didn't know what to make of the silence. He had expected a conflict but it seemed that Potter wasn't in the mood to fight. Draco couldn't even tell if he was still there.

"Is that really what you want? To see me dead?" murmured Potter.

Draco didn't answer.

"It's OK. You can do it. I won't fight back. Kill me," he added.

Draco ground his teeth, anger boiling anew in his veins. So, Potty had decided to mock him again? He would show him… His wand found its way to his hand instinctively. Draco sneered and pointed it at Potter. He could feel the air prickling with uncontrolled magic and realised, with horror, that it was his own. Never before had he lost control to the point of being unable to restrain his power. Children did sometimes but never him. He was a Malfoy. Malfoys never lose control. Potter didn't seem fazed one bit by the show. He kept his eyes locked with his and just waited. Draco hesitated. There was none of the challenge he expected to see in Potter's eyes. Only calm acceptance.

What if he was serious? Did he really want him to murder him?

The door suddenly banged open and Snape appeared in the doorway.

"Potter! Out of here. Now!" he shouted. He had his own wand pointed at Draco and was eying his every move carefully.

"Mr Malfoy. Do try to restrain yourself or I will be forced to body bind you," he warned.

And as Potter hadn't made a move towards the door:

"Potter, either you get out, or I throw you out. Your choice. But one will hurt much more than the other."

Potter obeyed silently. Draco lowered his wand as soon as he saw the door shutting. His godfather lowered his a bit as well but not enough to be hexed by surprise. He hold out his free hand to him.

"Give me your wand."

"…"

"Draco…"

Draco relented.

"Good," approved his godfather. "Now, go back to my rooms and take some dreamless sleep potion," he ordered next.

Draco did as he was told mechanically. He passed by Potter without a word, not really acknowledging his presence. As he closed the door behind him he heard his godfather say :

"You still have detention, mister Potter. The cauldrons, over there. Scrub them."

Harry awoke the next morning to the sound of Neville's snoring. His back and arms felt sore. Damn Snape! The git had not only made him scrub every dirty cauldron he could find but he had also made him scrub the classroom's floor by hand. When Harry finally came back to the Gryffindor tower, it was well past curfew. The common room was empty and his roommates were all fast asleep in their beds.

It's been two days since Harry had been back at Hogwarts. He had managed, during that short period of time, to land once more in the hospital and to earn a detention with Snape. He had seen no one, apart from Ron and Hermione, who came to visit him at the hospital wing.

Harry heard the rustle of bedcovers and soon after, the sound of bed curtains being opened. He poked his head out: Seamus was turning his back to him, searching for a new set of clothes and his toilet bag in his cabinet.

"Morning, Seamus," whispered Harry so as not to wake the other boys.

The Irish boy peered above his shoulder at Harry and mumble a feeble hello in return before going back to his task. Harry knew Seamus was grumpy in the mornings but he usually at least smiled to him. Harry frowned. He watched his friend making his way to the staircase without an other word. Was he being given the cold shoulder again? thought Harry, puzzled as to what he had done this time.

Harry chose not to linger on that: he'll learn soon enough. Neville's snores stopped and he could hear some noise coming from Dean's bed. Time to begin an other day! Harry optimistically jumped out of his bed.

"Shit!" he swore as his feet came brutally touched the floor.

He had forgotten about his aching body.

"All right, Harry?" he heard.

Neville was sitting cross legged on his bed and watching him with a concerned look.

"Yeah…" answered Harry. "Just Snape being himself again," he added.

Neville nodded in sympathy. He pointed towards the window with his chin.

"I took care of your plant," he said. "I put it close to the light and watered it. It should be fine there."

"Thanks, Neville," replied Harry sincerely.

"Morning! Where is Seamus?" interrupted Dean.

"He went to the showers,' answered Harry. "Dean, is there something wrong?"

"About what?" asked the black boy.

"Well…" hesitated Harry. "It's just that he seemed a bit cold to me. So I was wondering if I had done anything."

"Nah," dismissed Dean with a wave of his hand. "Don't…" he yawned. "Don't think about it. You know how he is in the mornings. Everything is cool."

"Ok."

But Harry was still unsure about Dean's assertion. He went up to Ron's bed and shook his friend's shoulder.

"Ron! Time to get up, come on!"

"A few more minutes mum," mumbled Ron in his sleep.

Dean and Neville laughed.

"Ron! Get up!" said Harry exasperated.

"Hum… What!" exclaimed Ron, suddenly jerking awake.

"Next time you call me mum, Ron, be sure I'll act just like her," warned Harry.

Ron paled. Molly was known to regularly wake him up with a glass of cold water.

"You won't dare," he replied. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Time to get your lazy arse out of bed if you don't want to be late for DADA," answered Harry. "Come on, I'm hungry so let's move on."

The mention of food was enough. Ron was at the staircase while Harry was still grabbing his things.

"You could wait for me, you know!" he shouted before running after Ron.

It didn't take them long to shower and get dressed. Heading for breakfast, Ron and Harry went through the common room. Silence greeted their entrance. Some first and second years were whispering conspiratorially among themselves while the older students simply stare at them or ignored them completely. Harry was rather taken aback by such an atmosphere. He saw Ron set his jaw firm and stride across the room. Harry followed suit.

"Ron, what's going on?" he asked once they had passed the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Nothing," answered Ron curtly.

Harry stopped in the middle of the corridor and waited, arms crossed on his chest. Realising Harry wasn't following him anymore, Ron stopped and turned toward his friend.

"You should stay close, Harry," he advised. "You never know…"

"Then, tell me!" shouted Harry.

Harry was getting fed up with all this. He saw Ron blush and glance around him. It occurred to Harry that they were attracting unnecessary attention. Some of the students had stop talking in favour to listening to their quarrel. Some of them even had that expectant look in their eyes as if their were waiting for some juicy details to come out in the open. Ron seemed to realise this too for he walked back to Harry and dragged him in a corner.

"Remember what Hermione and I told you in the hospital wing? About the rumours?"

"Wh… What?" stuttered Harry, trying to remember.

He sure had had other things in mind at that time.

"About me being a sissy? You are joking, right?"

But Ron was deadly serious.

"Shit!" swore Harry.

Ron smiled albeit a bit tightly.

"Sums it up well, mate."

"But… What does it matter to them?"

Ron was eyeing him in disbelief.

"Harry, you ARE the Boy-Who-Lived. You met You-Know-Who at least twice since you have begun Hogwarts and survived each times. You fought against Death Eaters; you even took some of them down. You have done what nobody in the wizarding world had never have the courage to do. You embodied every single Gryffindor's quality. Everybody looked up to you. But now…"

"Now what? People are realising I'm not perfect? That I can bleed and die?"

"Harry," tried to appease Ron. "Nobody expects you to be perfect."

Harry smirked.

"It's just… You let Malfoy beat you up, mate! What did you expect?"

"Nothing," murmured Harry. "It's been a long time since I last expected something from the wizarding community, Ron. I'm fed up with being analysed and I'm more than fed up with being the object of rumours every time the students are bored."

That being said, Harry headed for the Great Hall again. Ron grabbed his arm.

"Harry, you are not alone this time. I know I've not always been a good friend, but whatever it's worth to you, know that I try. Hermione and I will back you up. I don't know about the others but Neville, Luna, Dean and Seamus are there too. You've got friends, Harry."

"I know, Ron," sighed Harry.

The teens smiled to one another, anger forgotten.

"Aren't you hungry?" asked Ron. "I'd kill for some bacon and eggs!"

Harry laughed and nodded. Hermione was already eating when they entered the Great Hall.

"You are late!" lectured Hermione.

"We are always late!" answered Ron.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You are even later than usual" she scolded. "What kept you so long?"

"Nothing," replied Ron promptly. "Had problems waking up, that's all."

Neville and Dean laughed from their seats. Harry sat down and filled his plate hastily. He did his best to ignore the whispers and silences and act as if everything was ok.

"It may be the worst today," murmured Hermione to him. "Malfoy is back," she said pointing her fork in his direction. "Whatever he says, Harry, don't react."

The bell signalling the start of the first class ringed. The students who were not already on their way scurried off along the corridors.

"I'm glad Professor Lupin came back," panted Neville while running.

The sixth years' Gryffindors and Slytherins had DADA that morning. Remus was already seated behind his desk, therefore preventing any bickering to burst out between the members of the two houses. As soon as everybody had taken its seat, Remus got up to face the class.

"Good morning, class," he said as an introduction. "I'll be short and to the point. You know Voldemort is back."

Remus ignored the gasps erupting at the name and went on:

"It has now become an absolute necessity for you to learn how to protect yourself. I won't be telling you lies. I intend to teach you to the best of my abilities. Lessons will cover from sixth year to auror level material. Your parents may not agree with what I'm going to teach you but I'd rather see you all alive by the end of that conflict than spare their feelings. That being said," he added more gently "you have very little to fear while you are at Hogwarts. You are lucky to have some of the best teachers in their fields here… and I'm not even talking about Professor Dumbledore. However, one cannot be cautious enough. Now, if you would all push your tables away, today we are going to practice every spell you have learned since you came at Hogwarts. Pair up!"

Ron immediately went to Hermione so Harry paired up with Neville.

"Sorry," said the chubby boy. "Perhaps you would rather partner with Dean or Seamus."

"Neville, how many times will I have to tell you? You are as good as they are. Probably even better. I couldn't have a better partner than you for this class," said Harry before trying to surprise Neville by shouting "Impedimenta!"

"Petrificus Totalus!" shouted an impassive Neville in answer.

Hexes were sent that way for a good half an hour. Most of the students stopped then, feeling tired. The only ones who kept going where the former members of the DA and, on the Slytherin side, Malfoy and Zabini.

Professor Lupin put a stop to the training.

"I see some of you have trained. Good. Really good. That will be that much less for me to teach you," he said in a satisfied tone.

Harry was glad that Remus didn't ask them how they had reach such a level. Certainly, Remus didn't think it was Umbridge's work? He may have been told about the DA by Dumbledore himself. Harry was glad about it. Now, Remus could take over where he had left.

The rest of the class was devoted to theory and soon the children were leaving for their next class.

"Harry please, stay behind," asked Remus when the bell rang.

"You did well with them," he said.

Harry blushed.

"Well… We had to be prepared somehow. Umbridge," Harry said with distaste. " wasn't here to teach. Hermione and others wanted to learn. So I taught them."

Harry shrugged.

"As I said, you did very well. They know a rather wide range of spells and are physically resistant. I'm proud of you," added Remus, squeezing Harry's shoulder.

"I'm glad you are back," said Harry. "They won't have to hide now…."

" You are the best teacher we've ever had," murmured Harry.

"You only say that because the others were rubbish," joked Remus. "How are you?" he asked, once again serious.

"I'm fine."

"I've heard what the students are saying. If you want, I can…"

"Don't," interrupted Harry. "It would only make it worse. I'm used to it anyway. It'll die down on its own in a few days."

"Ok, if you are sure," said Remus.

The ex-marauder looked unconvinced but didn't argue.

"Off you go, then. I'm sure you have an other class."

The rest of the day went rather smoothly. Apart from a few interjections and a some name calling, which Harry feigned to haven't heard, nothing happened. Nobody dared come and fight with him. Nobody tried to hex him behind his back. Whether this was due to Hermione and Ron's constant presence or because word of his skills in DADA that morning had spread, he didn't know and frankly, he didn't care. As long as he was left more or less alone…

Surprisingly, the only ones acting normally were the Slytherins. Malfoy, especially, didn't act at all the way Hermione expected him to. He didn't try stop the rumours, probably because he had nothing to win from it, but he didn't gloat or try to mock Harry either. He simply ignored him, as if he wasn't worth his time. The sixth years' Slytherins followed his example. Harry found them rather subdued. However, when he tried to talk to Ron about it, his friend told him to keep his eyes open for they were surely planning something. Hermione, on the other hand, was more preoccupied by their Potion's essay. For her, the Slytherins' quietness was a blessing and meant she could work some more.

Before dinner, Hermione and Harry went to the library to work on said essay. They had to study the Amortentia potion. The three foot long essay, describing the potions and its use as well as the different ingredients and their properties and, finally, the brewing process, was to be handed in two days time. Snape would hand them back corrected before the week-end so that they may work on it some more if necessary. No use to say, that nobody expected to have a nice relaxing week-end. Harry also had the same work to do on the draugh of peace since he hadn't done it in the first place.

Harry was scanning the library shelves, looking for the book Hermione had advised to him on love potions. Having spotted it, he was reaching for it when someone near him did the same. They both grabbed the book at the same time.

"What the…" exclaimed two voices simultaneously.

"Malfoy!"

"Potter!"

Each teenager was eyeing the other warily, book still in hand. Malfoy released it first with a disgusted look on his face. He was browsing the shelf again when Harry's voice stopped him.

"You know…" Harry stuttered. "Hermione told me it was the best book on the subject. We could… Hum… Share it. If you want."

"Thanks… Potter," Malfoy added in an obvious effort to be polite. "I'd rather not. I'll come back later."

And he left.

"Slytherins and their f... pride," muttered Harry.

The students were happily chatting over breakfast when the first owls began arriving. Soon the Great Hall was crowded with the flying animals. Some were carrying parcels or letters. Most were delivering the Daily Prophet's new edition. Harry didn't pay attention to the commotion. Nobody would be writing to him now that Sirius wasn't there anymore and he didn't like newspapers due to his past experience with Rita Skeeter. So he kept eating.

He didn't know what made him snap out of his reflection. Was it the sudden silence? The way Hermione let her newspaper fall from her hands? The trembling of said hands?

Harry watched her intently.

"Hermione, are you all right?" he asked.

Ron picked up the newspaper and swore loudly.

Suddenly, the Great Hall was filled with shouting and screaming. Girls were crying. Neville looked petrified. Ron got up. He looked around him frantically.

"Ginny, where is Ginny?" he mumbled. "Have to floo mum and dad. Yeah. Floo."

Like most of the students, Ron made his way to the doors.

"Please, everybody, calm down!" said the amplified voice of Albus Dumbledore.

The Headmaster was standing tall behind the teacher's table, radiating strength and confidence. He repeated in a soothing tone:

"Everybody, calm down. I would like everybody to quietly return to its seat."

"The Death Eaters…" murmured Hermione. "They escaped Azkaban last night and burned a village."

Harry paled. He took Hermione's newspaper and read the article:

ONCE MORE DEATH EATHERS ESCAPE! FUNZIE ATTACKED!

Early this morning, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement announced the escape of six known Death Eaters from Azkaban. Several Aurors and warders were found dead, kissed by Dementors.

This is the second major breakout in less than a year. Although Aurors have been warned instantly the Death Eaters managed to attack the muggle town of Funzie in the Shetland Islands. Many houses were burned down. Healers have been sent to help the wounded.

The Ministry is already reinforcing security in wizarding towns and working closely with the muggle Prime Minister to track the escaped prisoners down but they seem to have disappeared.

Both Ministries offer their sympathies to the families…

Harry folded the paper in two. Malfoy, Lestrange, Rookwood and the others had escaped. It didn't come as a surprise to him. He did thought, however, that they were better watched then that. What had the ministry been thinking? Harry looked absently at the paper.

"Aurors and warders found dead", "houses burned down", "wounded"…

Harry sighed.

"Classes shall be postponed until this afternoon so as to give all of you time to join your families. I would like all Prefects, as well as all Head boys and girls to apply the security measures that have already been discussed," was saying Dumbledore.

Harry stopped listening. At the Slytherin table, Malfoy was as pale as death.