The end of the year crept closer. The Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match was to happen the Saturday after exams finished, and both teams (and Ron) seemed to think this was far more important than any old test. Hermione, of course, disagreed, and so did Draco, but Harry was pretty sure that he just wanted Slytherin to win the Quidditch cup.
"A Galleon says that Ravenclaw obliterates you," he offered once at supper when the three boys were discussing the subject.
"I couldn't dream of taking your money," said Harry calmly, buttering a roll. "They've got a half-decent team and a rather excellent Seeker, but their Beaters are frankly rubbish."
"I'll take you up, Malfoy," said Ron. "Better make it five Galleons, though, I'm saving for my own broom for next year."
"You mean you're aspiring higher than to inherit one of your brothers' Cleansweep Fives?" Draco sneered.
"Yeah, thought I'd get one of those Comet Two-sixties…oh, wait, I forgot, only utter prats ride those."
"I shouldn't think you could even afford five Galleons, Weasley. Or is that your father's life savings you're gambling away?"
"I won't have to afford it, since Gryffindor's going to wipe the floor with Ravenclaw the way they did with Slytherin."
Draco was about to snap something in retort when suddenly he tensed, his eyes fixed on a point behind Harry. Harry looked over his shoulder and saw Crabbe and Goyle standing up from the Slytherin table and looking around.
When he looked back, Draco was collecting his things and standing up as fast as he could.
"Malfoy…"
"Shut up."
"But I mean, Malfoy, do you even like them? Why do you bother?"
"I said, shut up." He picked up an apple, slung his bag over his shoulder, and sauntered away.
"Useless git," muttered Ron.
"Be fair, Ron," said Hermione. "He's got to spend all his time around those two, and they're gigantic. I mean, think what they could do to him if they decided to bully him for spending time with us!"
"Then why bother to spend time with us at all?" Ron said. "It's not like we want him."
"I don't think many people do want him, really," said Harry. "Seems like Crabbe and Goyle are about the only Slytherin guys who really care that he exists. The others only pay attention to him when he's mocking someone or earning points."
"Or when he brings up his wealthy father," said Ron.
"Well, how would you feel if you had to buy friends?" Hermione asked.
"Lonely. I couldn't afford it."
"Consider yourself lucky you don't have to, then," said Harry.
"Yeah. Lucky me. All I've got to do to have friends is to listen to Hermione lecture. Hm…maybe I should figure out a way to make some money…"
Harry laughed, and Hermione threw a dinner roll at both of them.
Harry's nonchalance about Gryffindor's chances was at least partially genuine. First of all, he cared very little about the match itself. If they won, brilliant. House points and House spirit and all that. If they lost, so what? End of the world he didn't think.
He had, however, attended all the matches, and watched the other teams with the bored but analytical eye hired hit-men train on victims against whom they have no personal grudge. He had come to the conclusion that Gryffindor was probably the best. The only thing they had against them was that the referee hated their Seeker.
The fact that Potter hated him, and that he would have his third and last shot to off him at this match, concerned Harry much more than the question of whether they would beat out Slytherin or not, or whether they would pass their exams or not. Potter, Harry thought, was close. He just had one more thing to work out, or one more move to make, or something…
Dumbledore.
It came to him in the Great Hall as he looked up at the teachers' table. Dumbledore would never leave the school grounds during the school year, and Potter wouldn't dare try for the Stone with him there.
"That actually half makes sense, Snape," said Malfoy when Harry hissed this to the others. "So we put a guard on old Dumbles, too?"
"No, but we need to watch out. Potter's got to wait for when he nips off, so we do too."
They didn't have to wait long.
After the year he'd had, with Stones and dragons and odd friendships, Harry didn't expect to get through exams with any kind of credit. In fact, looking back on it later, the whole thing was kind of a blur. He remembered panicking during Potions because he forgot what the second ingredient after brewing was supposed to be, but he made a quick logical deduction and was pretty sure what he picked would work.
The final exam, History of Magic, was on a Thursday, two days before the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match. They finished the exam early in the afternoon, and joined the throngs of students flooding out into the sunny grounds.
"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione. She and Harry had both kept their test papers and were going over them, but Ron had crumpled his into a ball as soon as he could and chucked it into the lake.
"No more revision," he said happily as they all flopped down under a tree near where the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling a giant squid. "Where's his Majesty? I'd have thought he'd be here bragging about how his paper was probably perfect."
"I think Crabbe and Goyle caught him as he was coming out," said Harry, blinking drowsily in the heat. "He'll shake them off sooner or later."
"Sooner rather than later, looks like," said Hermione. Harry looked up and saw Draco flying across the grounds, his robes trailing behind him. When he got near them he slowed to a casual saunter and waved at some passing Slytherins. Then he straightened his tie, smoothed his usually immaculate hair, and strolled over to where the other three sat, casual as you please. His face was light pink and he breathed heavily.
"Dumbles," he said without preamble. "Gone."
"What?!" Harry jumped to his feet, any trace of drowsiness fled. "Gone?"
"Heard it from one of the teachers just now—got an urgent owl this morning from the Ministry telling him to get there as soon as possible."
"I bet you anything it was Potter really sent it," said Harry. "Dumbledore won't be gone for more than a day…"
The four of them exchanged looks.
"Sure glad I'm not on guard duty this evening," said Draco.
"Maybe you should be," said Hermione. She looked upset. "I mean, don't you think it'd be better to have Harry and Ron in their room in case somehow Potter does know and comes for It up there?"
"What, and miss all the fun on the good chance that he doesn't?" said Ron indignantly. "No fear!"
"Oh, come on, Ron, there's an equal chance he'll come after Harry. It's much better if you're there with him and Draco and I watch; that way there's two people in each place."
"But I watched last night," said Draco.
"Oh, that's nothing," said Ron. "Hermione's been watching four nights a week since we came up with this plan. But if you and I watch, Hermione, and Harry keeps guard over It, that means Malfoy is well out of it and can't nip off at the first sign of trouble. Anyway if I get into bed I'll most likely fall asleep."
In the end Hermione agreed to stick to the original plan—the force of Draco's and Ron's arguments aided by the fact that it was actually what she wanted to do.
"But, Harry, try to keep some of the others awake, so you'll have some kind of backup," she said.
By the time Harry got back to his dorm that evening, the only person still awake was Neville Longbottom. Harry couldn't think of any way to wake Dean and Seamus up that didn't make him look like an idiot, so he decided to talk to Neville and make sure he didn't drop off.
"How do you think you did on your exams?" he asked as he put on his pyjamas.
Neville was playing with his Remembrall, throwing it up in the air and catching it again—missing as often as not. "Horrible," he said. "I couldn't remember half the ingredients in the Forgetfulness Potion and I mostly just sat there for three-quarters of the History of Magic exam."
"How about Herbology?"
Neville's face brightened. "I think I did all right in that," he said.
"Rubbish, I bet you beat all of us out. Even Hermione."
Neville shook his head morosely. "Not Hermione. But Professor Sprout smiled when she saw my Puffapod, so that's good, right?"
"That's brilliant."
"I'll bet you got the best marks in Potions," said Neville.
"Not over Hermione!"
"Well, maybe. Oh, I need to go look for Trevor. Have you see him?"
"Leave him be for now, Neville, you know he's sure to turn up. How did your snuffbox turn out for McGonagall?"
Outside Fluffy's door, the third floor corridor waited, silent and completely empty.
"Bloody cold," whispered Ron's voice.
"When will you learn to bring a proper jumper, Ronald?"
"Shouldn't be this cold, not in June."
"But it always is. Here, you can have one arm of my bathrobe…"
Suddenly the sound of a footstep drew both the voices up short. It was hardly a sound at all, more of a vibration, a slight variation in temperature. Ron felt Hermione's hand grip his and draw him back against the wall.
A figure in a long dark cloak appeared at the end of the hall and walked rapidly toward the door, head turning backward and forward as if watching for something.
Hermione squeezed Ron's hand. This is it, that squeeze meant. Go.
Ron squeezed back. No, you go, he meant to say. I'll stay and hold him off.
Suddenly the figure stopped and raised its head.
And then they heard the laugh.
"It's a bit rubbish, really, the whole thing about pure blood and that," said Neville. "I mean, my whole family have been witches and wizards since who knows when, and look at me, and then Hermione's parents are Muggles, and look at her, she's brilliant…"
"Uh-huh," said Harry.
"I can't imagine being raised by Muggles, can you? Oh, I forgot. Well, it might have been nice, nobody trying to get you to do or be anything…you know, I wanted to be a Hufflepuff."
"Really?" This seemed a bit non sequitur to Harry, but he listened anyway.
"Yeah. Professor Sprout's nice, and I thought I wouldn't be any good in any other House, I'd hate to be in Slytherin with people like Malfoy, and I'm too stupid for Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor just scared me altogether…"
"Malfoy's not so bad. And what's so scary about…ssh!"
"What?"
"Be quiet for a second…"
There it was again. An unseen foot had just hit the second creaky step on the staircase up to the boys' dorm.
You'd think a Gryffindor would have learned to avoid them…
"Neville," he hissed, "you've gotta be really quiet now, but I might need your help so get your wand ready, something bad's about to happen…"
Neville squeaked and dropped his Remembrall.
"Sh-should we wake up Dean and Seamus?"
"No. Shut up."
Harry drew his curtains almost to and lay as still as possible in the darkness, listening to the almost inaudible footsteps and Neville's hyperventilating. A ray of reddish light…the door creaked open and a dark shape appeared and began to walk softly toward Harry's bed. A pale hand groped forward and pulled back the hangings…
But the face that looked down on him, illuminated by the slight light from the hallway, wasn't Professor Potter.