"If I may have your attention, please."
Dumbledore stepped into the staffroom where most of the teachers were already to be found. They were sitting – or floating, in Binns' case – in groups around the tables and the fireplace, some sipping tea, most engaged in chatter. Except for Severus, who was sitting alone in the farthest corner, looking through a thick volume. Dumbledore resisted the urge to sigh.
"As you all know, September 1st is next Tuesday, in exactly one week—" he began.
"Hence why we've all returned to the castle," said Severus, while putting his book down.
"You mean the rest of us have," came Minerva's not unexpected reply, much to Dumbledore's irritation. "You stayed here all summer again, didn't you?"
"I don't see how that is of any consequence—" Severus began to reply, but Dumbledore spoke over him.
"And I am happy to announce that I have finally found a new defence against the dark arts professor," he said, and was happy to note that all attention was now focussed on the topic at hand. "He... should be here any minute. I told him the meeting time and set the wards to let him in..."
"Who is he?" Filius was the first to ask, but his question was followed by several similar ones from the rest of the teachers.
"You'll find out in a moment, as soon as he arrives – whenever that may be..." Dumbledore added the last part under his breath. He could see Severus glower at him over the rim of the book he had picked up again. And after such behaviour he still refused to understand where the rumour that he wanted the defence position himself came from...
The teachers, used to Dumbledore's habits, did not try to get him to tell them – as they knew perfectly well that he would not. Instead, they began to speculate who it might be. Soon, other topics were added to the discussion. Pomona, who had acquired an obvious tan, began telling Poppy about her travel to France, while Aurora Sinistra and Septima Vector began discussing a recent paper that suggested a slightly different way to calculate the orbits of... one of the moons in the solar system, as far as Dumbledore could tell.
"Actually..." he said a heartbeat later. "Perhaps we should begin with the meeting without our new colleague. We do have a fair few points to cover, and..." He sighed, hoping not all of his worst fears about Lockhart's character would prove true.
It was almost an hour later and they had discussed most major points they needed to cover by then, when the flames in the fireplace turned green. Masterfully avoiding the soot, Gilderoy Lockhart stepped into the room, without even a stumble to dislodge the pointed wizard's hat set at a jaunty angle on top of his wavy hair. He smiled widely at his audience, his white teeth gleaming.
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen – my dear new colleagues. Let me introduce myself—" he paused there, as if before the punchline of a joke, then laughed, "—as unnecessary as that may be. But in case some of you found it difficult to believe the news, let me assure you it's true. I, Gilderoy Lockhart, have agreed – with great pleasure – to take up the post of defence against the dark arts professor." He smiled at them all expectantly, waiting for the reaction.
Severus blinked disbelievingly. He sought Dumbledore's eyes, only to see his fears confirmed there. "You must be joking," he said with a disgusted look on his face.
"Severus... Not now," said Dumbledore.
Minerva, who looked like she had also wanted to say something, pressed her lips to a thin line. Despite her disapproving looks, she managed to hold back her comments.
Several other teachers – especially the female ones – had a slightly different reaction. Pomona, obviously flushed, went to shake his hand and introduce herself, followed by Poppy and Charity, and eventually even the more sceptical members of staff. Dumbledore had to nudge Severus more than once until he finally took the hint and submitted to a handshake as well – even if he refused to keep the scowl off his face.
It was Minerva, however, who would not stay silent. "You're late," she said as she shook Gilderoy's hand with pursed lips.
"Am I?" he replied with a vacant smile. "A few of my fans caught me on the way here, I'm afraid, and refused to let me go." He chuckled.
Dumbledore did not need to look, to know that Severus was cringing. He contained himself valiantly, however, until Lockhart began to ask none too subtle questions about Harry Potter. A moment later, Severus walked out the door without asking permission to leave, without saying goodbye, without so much as looking back. Dumbledore doubted that would be the last he would see of Severus that day, though.
He was right. He had barely arrived in his office a short while later and sat down behind his desk, when the gargoyle turned again and a furious Severus stormed his office. Minerva, who had followed him after the staff meeting to discuss a few more matters, got up from the chair opposite his desk and turned around, to see what the interruption was about.
"Severus, did you want a word with me?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly, which only made the surly potions master glower more at him.
"How could you hire that idiot?" he came straight to the point.
"He applied," replied, Dumbledore, who had no wish whatsoever to get into an argument. "In fact, he was the only one who applied," he added tiredly.
Severus' minor hesitation was enough for Minerva to say: "What, did you forget to hand in your application this year?"
Dumbledore suppressed a sigh and picked up a lemon drop instead, aware that there was little he could do but suffer through the developing bickering.
"Contrary to popular belief, I do not apply for the post every year. In fact, I have not applied since that very first year—"
"Then why, pray tell, are you complaining about Albus' appointment?"
"So you like him, then? Lockhart? You think he's the best candidate to teach such a vital subject—"
Minerva bristled. "Are you telling me you're more concerned about the welfare of the students than the rest of us?"
"You are perfectly well aware that there is exactly one reason Lockhart wanted that position. A certain student in your house—"
"Leave Mr. Potter out of this, please—"
"I'm afraid that won't be possible. All Lockhart wants is to be able to say that he taught the famous Harry Potter everything the brat knows about fighting the dark arts—"
"Do not insult my students, Severus. And I don't see – given your opinion of Mr. Potter – why it would bother you if Lockhart makes his life difficult this year—"
There had been a moment – a very insignificant little moment – at the end of the previous year, when Severus had questioned his opinion of Potter. With enough vehemence to convince himself most of all, he said, "Make his life difficult? Potter will love it. He will bask in the attention and become even more unmanageable than he already is—"
"I'll bet you anything he'll hate it! How you can blind yourself—"
The conviction in the Gryffindor was enough that the need to contradict her squashed his own doubts. "No, it's you, who's deluded herself into thinking that Potter is anything other than a disrespectful, attention-seeking—"
"Severus," warned Dumbledore.
"And I'd be willing to take you up on that bet, Minerva," Snape went on. "If Lockhart doesn't become Potter's favourite teacher within the month—"
"Enough!" said Dumbledore. "You may not make any bets involving students of this school, is that clear?" There was enough force behind his words to quell both teachers. "Now, was there anything other than Gilderoy's appointment that you wished to discuss?" Dumbledore breathed a sigh of relief when he found his office blissfully empty a few minutes later.
~HP~
Wednesday early in the morning, Mrs. Weasley used the sonorous charm to wake everyone up. Harry, who was sharing Ron's room, got up quickly, excited about the upcoming trip to Diagon Alley. Ron tried his best to continue snoozing, but his mother, who knew her children well, would not let up until everyone had made their way downstairs, with a fair bit of grumbling from some of them.
Harry and Ron met Hermione on the way down, who seemed to be chatting with Ginny. As soon as they spotted Harry, though, Ginny clammed up again.
A quick breakfast later, all the Weasleys and their two guests moved to the fireplace. Neither Harry, nor Hermione, had used the floo network before, so Fred and George went first, to demonstrate how it worked. Then it was their turn. Harry, who could tell that Hermione was no less worried than he was, chose to go first.
He tried to keep all the disjointed advice from the Weasleys in mind, but he swallowed a lot of hot ash when trying to pronounce his destination and stuttered. The next thing he knew, he found himself in a dimly lit wizard's shop – not at all where he had meant to go.
After witnessing Lucius Malfoy's visit to that shop with his son, he ran into a creepy aged witch, but was thankfully found by Hagrid at that point.
"Yer a mess!" said Hagrid gruffly, brushing soot off Harry so forcefully he nearly knocked him into a barrel of dragon dung outside an apothecary. "Skulkin' around Knockturn Alley, I dunno dodgy place, Harry – don' want no one ter see yeh down there—"
Harry explained what had happened while they set off together down the street. At the entrance of Gringotts, they spotted Hermione, who had managed to travel without incident and had already met up with her parents. The Weasleys were not far behind. Hagrid, who decided he would be safe enough at that point, said goodbye and left.
After getting money from the bank, they all separated. Percy muttered vaguely about needing a new quill. Fred and George had spotted their friend from Hogwarts, Lee Jordan. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were going to a second-hand robe shop. Mr. Weasley was insisting on taking the elder Grangers off to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink.
"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your school books," said Mrs. Weasley, setting off with Ginny. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!" she shouted at the twins' retreating backs.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione strolled off along the winding, cobbled street. Harry bought three large strawberry-and-peanut-butter ice creams, which they slurped happily as they wandered up the alley, examining the fascinating shop windows. Ron gazed longingly at a full set of Chudley Cannon robes in the windows of Quality Quidditch Supplies until Hermione dragged them off, only saying that they had something more important to take care of.
"What is it? Did you want to go in there?" asked Ron, pointing at the stationery shop next door.
Hermione hesitated, looking through the windows almost longingly, but shook her head. "No, that can wait. We need to buy your wand, Ron—"
The boys grimaced as they remembered how Pettigrew had stolen the wand the night before and apparated away with it to who knows where.
"But... I don't..." Ron mumbled something incomprehensible. "I can do that later, when we've met up with my parents," he said.
Hermione shook her head. "That won't do. You'd have to tell them how you lost it, but we've talked about it. We can't tell anyone about either Sirirus Black or Peter Pettigrew. They'd never believe us everything, but they might believe just enough to make things worse for Sirius—"
"Yeah, I know, but – but..." Ron scowled, then sighed. "I'll just have to come up with some other excuse, then—"
"Why wait? Come on, it'll be fun," said Harry. "It'll be easier to explain after, anyway. They won't ask as many questions once you already have a new wand—"
"Well, too bad," Ron interrupted exasperatedly. "But I can't do that. I don't have enough money for a wand," he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His voice had gone very quiet towards the end.
Harry blinked and exchanged a look with Hermione. "Well..." He thought quickly. "Well, it's because of my godfather that you need a new wand. So... I really think—"
"No—" Ron began to interrupt, having guessed where this was going.
"He's right, though." Hermione caught on quickly to Harry's scheme, but she still shot him an almost apologetic look as she said that, hoping he understood that she did not actually blame him. "You can't explain things to your parents because we need to keep Sirius safe. So really, it's the best solution." Seeing that Ron still looked unconvinced, Hermione threw up her arms. "You can't go to Hogwarts without a wand," she said.
Reluctantly, Ron followed his friends. They had to avoid being seen by several of his siblings. Fred and George almost spotted them from inside Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, where they, together with Lee Jordan, were stocking up on Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks. Percy, whom they found in a tiny junk shop full of broken wands, lopsided brass scales, and old cloaks covered in potion stains, actually saw them, but he turned away, deeply immersed in some small and deeply boring-looking book.
Slowly, the hide-and-seek of doing something in secret began to cheer Ron up as well. They were all giddy by the time they managed to avoid all members of Ron's family and reach the wand shop.
A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside Ollivanders. The shop was exactly as they remembered: tiny and cramped with thousands of narrow boxes piled right up to the ceiling. Even the spindly chair still stood in its previous place. It was as if the ordinary changes time brought did not exist there. Harry's neck tingled from the very magic in the air.
"Good afternoon," Ollivander said in a soft voice, managing to catch them off guard.
They greeted him awkwardly.
"How... unexpected, to see you again this year, Mr. Potter and... Miss... I don't recall your name, but I'm sure I met you last year as well. Vine and dragon heartstring, wasn't it?"
"Ye-es," said Hermione.
"I never forget a wand I sell. But yours was indeed a very memorable moment. It is a rare occurrence indeed, when the wand responds as soon as its future owner steps into the shop. Now, Mr. Potter, here, was the exact opposite. But these things always happen at the pace that is right for the individual wand and its owner, of course." He hesitated a moment, directing his silvery, unblinking eyes at Ron. "I'm almost certain you are a Weasley, but I don't think we've met before. Have we?"
Ron's ears turned red. "Er, yes, Ron Weasley. And, no, we haven't, but I'd like to buy a wand now. Please," he said.
"And will this be your first wand?" Ollivander asked almost sternly. "I just saw a Weasley girl not ten minutes ago..."
The friends exchanged looks. It was clear, he was referring to Ginny. Lucky to have evaded Mrs. Weasley, they all cheered silently. Mr. Ollivander, however, was not to be distracted from his question. His piercing eyes bored into Ron, demanding an answer.
"N-no, it won't be my first wand. I – I used my brother's old wand in my first year." Ron almost stumbled over his words. His face turned a deep red. "But I, er, lost that one—"
"Your brother's wand? Ah, yes, I remember. One of the Weasley boys wanted a wand with a dragon heartstring core, because he was going to work with dragons. Not strictly necessary, of course. Every Ollivander wand is capable of producing all forms of magic. But if one is so inclined..."
He moved closer to Ron, pulling out a tape measure with silver markings from his pocket. "You are aware, of course, that each wand I sell needs to be registered and that I will not sell you a second wand without a very good reason."
"But he needs to have a wand!" said Hermione.
"It was my fault he lost it," added Harry. "So if there's a fine for it, or—"
"No, no. You misunderstand," said Ollivander, gesturing with his hands to calm down. His tape measure began to measure Ron on its own.
Harry and Hermione's voices, though by no means loud, still seemed to ring in the quiet of the shop, as if disturbing the threads of magic around them. They both blushed.
"I merely need a good reason," Ollivander went on as softly as before. "Your brother, for example, had his old wand re-registered in your name. Not what I would have recommended for a child's first wand..." If possible, Ron turned an even darker shade of red.
Ollivander did not seem to notice this, as he went on. "By the time he came here to buy his second wand, he no longer had its allegiance. Therefore, when I sold him his new wand, it became the only one with his allegiance, registered to his name—" He stopped the explanation, looking surprised. With a small wave, the tape measure returned to his hand. "Oh, I see. You've lost the allegiance of your former wand. That does make things simpler, of course," he said almost cheerfully.
With that issue out of the way, he turned towards the boxes. "Now, let me see..." He flitted around the shelves, taking down boxes, as he talked. "Your brother's old wand – it was ash and unicorn hair, wasn't it?" Not waiting for a reply, he went on. "And how did you get on with it? Ash does have a tendency to stay loyal to its first owner – especially when coupled with unicorn hair..."
"It was all right, I guess..." mumbled Ron. Harry and Hermione exchanged a look.
"Well, if it was all right..." Ollivander held out a wand for Ron to try, then snatched it back almost at once. He repeated the same thing a few more times. "I wonder..." he said quite happily now. He turned towards the shelves again. "Perhaps it's not merely that you were the wand's second owner, for all that it's supposed to fit your birthday. I always say, it is important to examine these things carefully, but people do like to follow old witches' tales when it comes to picking wands, rather than letting the wand choose its master..."
"How would a wand fit his birthday?" asked Hermione.
"The ancient Celtic tree calendar, Miss..."
"Granger," supplied Hermione.
"The Celtic tree calendar, Miss Granger, divides the year into thirteen lunar divisions and associates a different tree – wood – to each. And it is true that there is a certain resonance between such wands and their owners – as Mr. Potter, for example, can attest." He turned his piercing eyes towards Harry.
"Really? What's your wand made of?" Hermione asked Harry.
"Er, holly."
"But of course there are many other – far more important – criteria by which a wand chooses its owner. Your wand, for example, may not have corresponded to your birthday – unless you happen to be born in September – but there was no question that it was destined to be yours..." He turned around to continue searching his shelves.
Behind his back, Hermione switched her astonished gaze between Ron and Harry.
"Are you..." Ron mouthed silently.
Hermione nodded imperceptibly. The three friends exchanged thoughtful looks at the coincidence.
"Now, Mr. Weasley... Perhaps a change is in order to help bring out your potential..." Ollivander returned and brought another wand. "Willow and unicorn hair, fourteen inches. I think this might be..." He stopped talking as soon as Ron took it. "How very curious. I was sure... No matter, let me see..."
He took the wand back and brought out his tape measure again. A moment later, he drew a sharp breath, and the tape measure fell to the floor. "Very curious, indeed..." he muttered again and went back to the shelves.
"What's curious?" asked Ron, who was starting to get impatient.
"Your measurements – I could have sworn they were different a moment ago... Not to worry. I think... Yes... I think this one might be it." With those words, he produced a box from the very top of the shelf. By that point, there was a small pile of wands on the floor around him.
As soon as Ron took the wand, it glowed golden.
"Oh, well done, Mr. Weasley. It seems, it is to be ash after all. Also fourteen inches, with a unicorn hair core. It is lucky indeed that you came today, because I only finished making it a few days ago. I didn't even know yet how it was going to fare. Ash does have a tendency to be stubborn, and can sometimes become rather inflexible as it ages-"
"Oh, yeah, 'rowan gossips, chestnut drones, ash is stubborn, hazel moans'. I've heard that," said Ron with a self-depreciating little shrug.
"Yes, indeed. I have found there is a kernel of truth to that particular superstition as well."
While Harry paid for the wand, Ollivander looked them all over with a curious little smile. "You are very strange customers, I have to say. A pureblood, a half-blood and a muggleborn, with wands made of unicorn hair, phoenix feather and dragon heartstring cores and woods corresponding to your birthdays – at least in the first two cases." He paused, then looked at Hermione shrewdly. "Miss Granger, you didn't happen to mention your birthday, did you?"
"No," squeaked Hermione.
"Well, no matter," he said with a smile. "But it is very curious..."
Once they left the shop, it was almost time to head to Flourish and Blotts. They started walking towards it, but before they reached the bookshop, Ron slowed down, regarding his new wand unhappily.
"It's only a few days until school," said Harry. "With any luck, they won't even notice that you have a different wand if you don't say anything."
"Right. They won't notice that my wand is suddenly a couple inches longer and disgustingly new." He shook the wand vehemently, making it emit strange noises. "It's even made from fresh wood, for Merlin's sake! And there's not a single scratch on it..."
It really was a beautiful wand. It was ridiculous – in a really not funny way – that it should make Ron so unhappy.
"Well... well, they won't notice it if you don't have it with you," suggested Hermione.
"And what do you suppose I should do with it? Return it?" Incongruously, Ron held the wand closer to him in a protective gesture, not at all willing to part from it all of a sudden.
"Of course not. I just thought... I could take it home with me. Then, if you tell your parents that I borrowed your wand and forgot to return it, you'll be telling the truth – almost."
Ron did not seem keen on that idea, until he spotted the first red head in the crowd outside of Flourish and Blotts. Then he shoved his brand-new wand into Hermione's hands. "Okay, fine, you keep it," he said hastily. "And keep it safe. And out of sight."
"Of course," said Hermione and safely stowed it in her bag, just before Mrs. Weasley saw them from her spot in the queue and waved them over.
After an eventful encounter with Gilderoy Lockhart, their new defence teacher, and the Malfoys – which had ended with Mr. Weasley brawling with Lucius Malfoy until Hagrid broke them up – a much more subdued group of Weasleys, Grangers and Harry headed to the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione and her parents left the pub for the muggle street, while Harry once again had to travel by floo back to the Burrow.
The end of the summer break was around the corner. On their last evening, Mrs. Weasley conjured up a sumptuous dinner that included all of Harry's favourite things, ending with a mouthwatering treacle pudding. Fred and George rounded off the evening with a display of Filibuster fireworks; they filled the kitchen with red and blue stars that bounced from ceiling to wall for at least half an hour. Then it was time for a last mug of hot chocolate and bed.
It took a long while to get started the next morning. Even though they were all up at dawn, they were running very late by the time they all got into the flying Ford Anglia. To make matters worse, they had to stop and turn back a few times, because somehow everyone kept remembering more things they needed to take to Hogwarts. Once Ginny had also grabbed her diary, they were finally off.
They reached King's Cross at a quarter to eleven. Mr. Weasley dashed across the road to get trolleys for their trunks and they all hurried into the station. They all had to walk through the barrier one by one, so as not to be spotted by the muggles around them. Ron and Harry were the last ones to go through, but unexpectedly, they found the barrier closed.
Later, they would both insist that at the time it had seemed like a good idea – and only solution they could think of – to fly to Hogwarts in the Ford Anglia.
A few hours later, they were sticky and sweaty, and the fun had definitely worn off. The worst was yet to come, though. Towards the evening, the engine began to whine. It finally died as they were flying over the lake. They fell – and Ron had never wished his wand with him as he did then – to no avail. They crashed into the Whomping Willow and barely evaded its violent branches. The car obeyed one more time and got them out of its reach. Then it spit them out, followed by their luggage, and drove off into the darkness.
"Can you believe our luck?" said Ron miserably. "Of all the trees we could've hit, we had to get one that hits back." He glanced over his shoulder at the ancient tree, which was still flailing its branches threateningly.
"Come on," said Harry wearily, "we'd better get up to the school..."
It was not the triumphant arrival they had pictured. Stiff, cold, and bruised, they seized the ends of their trunks and began dragging them up the grassy slope, toward the great oak front doors.
"I think the feast's already started," said Ron, dropping his trunk at the foot of the front steps and crossing quietly to look through a brightly lit window. "Hey, Harry, come and look – it's the sorting!"
Harry hurried over and, together, he and Ron peered in at the Great Hall. Through the forest of pointed black Hogwarts hats, Harry saw a long line of scared-looking first years filing into the Hall. Ginny was among them, easily visible because of her vivid Weasley hair. Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall was placing the Sorting Hat on a stool before the newcomers.
A very small, mousy-haired boy had been called forward to place the hat on his head. Harry's eyes wandered past him to where Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, sat watching the sorting from the staff table, his long silver beard and half-moon glasses shining brightly in the candlelight. Several seats along, Harry saw Gilderoy Lockhart, dressed in robes of aquamarine. And there at the end was Hagrid, huge and hairy, drinking deeply from his goblet.
"Hang on..." Harry muttered to Ron. "There's an empty chair at the staff table... Where's Snape?"
"Maybe he's ill!" said Ron hopefully. Then he grimaced. "Why can't Lockhart be ill as well?"
"Maybe he's left," said Harry, "because the defence against the dark arts job went to that idiot instead of him!"
"Or he might be planning how to get rid of Lockhart!" said Ron enthusiastically. "Like he did with Quirrel last year—"
"Or maybe," said a cold voice right behind them, "he's waiting to hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train."
Harry spun around. There, his black robes rippling in a cold breeze, stood Severus Snape, scowling in a way that told Harry he and Ron were in very deep trouble. Every hope he had had that the events of the previous year might have changed the potions master's attitude towards them, evaporated.
"Follow me," said Snape, and led them away from the entrance hall down into the cold dungeons.
They entered Snape's office, shivering. The shadowy walls were lined with shelves of large glass jars, in which floated all manner of revolting things Harry did not really want to know the name of at the moment. The fireplace was dark and empty. Snape closed the door and turned to look at them.
"So," he said softly, "the train isn't good enough for the famous Harry Potter and his faithful sidekick Weasley. Wanted to arrive with a bang, did we, boys? Couldn't let another celebrity outshine you, could you?"
Harry's heart sank, as he realised how much of their comments Snape must have heard. "We didn't do it for the attention. We didn't have any other choice!"
"You didn't have any other choice than to arrive in a flying car, of course you didn't. What have you done with the car?"
Ron gulped. This was not the first time Snape had given Harry the impression of being able to read minds. But a moment later, he understood, as Snape unrolled the day's issue of the Evening Prophet.
"You were seen," he hissed, showing them the headline: FLYING FORD ANGLIA MYSTIFIES MUGGLES. He began to read aloud: "Two Muggles in London, convinced they saw an old car flying over the Post Office tower... at noon in Norfolk, Mrs. Hetty Bayliss, while hanging out her washing... Mr. Angus Fleet, of Peebles, reported to police... Six or seven Muggles in all. I believe your father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office?" he said, looking up at Ron and smiling nastily. "Dear, dear... his own son..."
Harry felt as though he had just been walloped in the stomach by one of the mad tree's larger branches. If anyone found out Mr. Weasley had bewitched the car... he had not thought of that...
"I noticed, in my search of the park, that considerable damage seems to have been done to a very valuable Whomping Willow," Snape went on.
"That tree did more damage to us than we—" Ron blurted out.
"You were looking for us?" Harry asked at the same time, feeling dismayed. He had not considered that their actions might worry people, either. And if even Snape – who had admittedly been trying to keep him alive all of last year, but who otherwise hated him – had been worried, what about the other teachers? What about Ron's family? And Hermione?
Harry's words made Snape pause. Something in the boy's expression, or his suddenly meek tone spoke of remorse, rather than simple regret at being caught. The realisation did not make him any happier, though. The last traces of his vindictive smile disappeared, to be replaced by a deep scowl. "Most unfortunately, you are not in my House and the decision to punish you does not rest with me. I shall go and fetch the people who do have that happy power. You will wait here."
White-faced and feeling rather sick, the boys next faced McGonagall and Dumbledore, who were more angry and disappointed with them than either had ever wanted to experience. They did avoid losing House points, but were told they would be serving detention.
Finally dismissed, they made their way to Gryffindor Tower. Despite not knowing the password, they did not have to wait long to get in. Almost as soon as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, they heard hurrying footsteps behind them and turned to see Hermione dashing toward them. She handed Ron his wand as soon as she reached them.
"There you are! Where have you been? I was so worried when I couldn't find you on the train. And Ron, without your wand... The most ridiculous rumours – someone said you'd been expelled for crashing a flying car."
Before they could tell her much, or listen to her lecture them, the portrait swung open, and the boys were greeted by a storm of clapping. Everyone, even older students, congratulated them on their adventure. The only exceptions were Hermione and Ron's prefect brother, Percy. Harry and Ron soon said goodnight and went upstairs to their dormitory, to avoid being told off. There, the other boys in their dorm continued with the congratulations.
Ron grinned guiltily at Harry. "I know I shouldn't've enjoyed that or anything, but—"
Harry could not help it. He grinned, too. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he still remembered that he had said to Snape he had not done it for attention.