On Saturday morning, Harry, Demelza and I headed to the statue of the one eyed witch. Harry pulled out the map as we were walking down the corridor, and for the moment, it looked like the coast was clear. He opened the statue, closing the map and I told Demelza to go down first, saying that it was like a slide and that she should wait for us at the bottom. I was about to follow her in, when Snape appeared from around the corner at the far end. Quickly, we shut the statue. We could only hope that Demelza would wait and understand why we took so long.

'And what are you two doing here?' said Snape, coming to a halt and looking at us. 'An odd place to meet –'

To our immense disquiet, Snape's black eyes flicked to the doorways on either side of us, and then to the one-eyed witch.

'We're not – meeting here,' said Harry. 'We just – met here.'

'Indeed?' said Snape. 'You have a habit of turning up in unexpected places, Potter, and you are rarely there for no reason … I suggest the pair of you return to Gryffindor Tower where you belong.'

We set off in the direction Snape had come from. As we turned the corner, we looked back. Snape was running one of his hands over the one-eyed witch's head, examining it closely. We went to the end of the corridor, then hurried quietly back. The statue's corridor was empty. We wasted no time in running back to the statue. Sliding down, I found Demelza sitting at the bottom with her wand lit.

"What kept you?" she asked

"Snape showed up" I replied as Harry landed next to us.

We covered ourselves with the Invisibility Cloak and set off at a run. Demelza tripped over the hem of the cloak twice on the way. We emerged into the sunlight outside Honeydukes and Harry prodded Ron and Hermione in the back.

'It's us,' he muttered.

'What kept you?' Ron hissed.

'Snape was hanging around …'

We set off up the High Street. 'Where are you?' Ron kept muttering out of the corner of his mouth. 'Are you still there? This feels weird …'

They went to the Post Office; Ron pretended to be checking the price of an owl to Bill in Egypt and Hermione to her uncle living in Sardinia, so that we could have a good look around. The owls sat hooting softly down at us, at least three hundred of them; from Great Greys right down to tiny little Scops owls ('Local Deliveries Only') which were so small they could have sat in the palm of our hands.

Then we visited Zonko's, which was so packed with students we had to exercise great care not to tread on anyone and cause a panic. There were jokes and tricks to fulfil even Fred and George's wildest dreams; we gave Ron whispered orders and passed him some gold from under the Cloak. We left Zonko's with our money bags considerably lighter than they had been on entering, but our pockets bulging with Dungbombs, Hiccough Sweets, Frog Spawn Soap and a Nose-Biting Teacup apiece. The day was fine and breezy, and none of us felt like staying indoors, so we walked past the Three Broomsticks and climbed a slope to visit the Shrieking Shack, the most haunted dwelling in Britain.

It stood a little way above the rest of the village, and even in daylight was slightly creepy, with its boarded windows and dank overgrown garden.

'Even the Hogwarts ghosts avoid it,' said Ron, as we leaned on the fence, looking up at it. 'I asked Nearly Headless Nick … he says he's heard a very rough crowd live here. No one can get in. Fred and George tried, obviously, but all the entrances are sealed shut …'

Feeling hot from the climb, we were just considering taking off the Cloak for a few minutes, when we heard voices nearby. Someone was climbing towards the house from the other side of the hill; moments later, Malfoy had appeared, followed closely by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy was speaking.

'… should have an owl from Father any time now. He had to go to the hearing to tell them about my arm … about how I couldn't use it for three months …' Crabbe and Goyle sniggered. 'I really wish I could hear that great hairy moron trying to defend himself … 'There's no 'arm in 'im , 'onest –' … that Hippogriff's as good as dead –'

Malfoy suddenly caught sight of Ron and Hermione. His pale face split in a malevolent grin. 'What are you doing, Weasley, Granger?' Malfoy looked up at the crumbling house behind Ron. 'Suppose you'd love to live here, wouldn't you, Weasley? Dreaming about having your own bedroom? I heard your family all sleep in one room – is that true?'

Harry and Hermione seized the back of Ron's robes to stop him leaping on Malfoy.

'Leave him to me,' he hissed in Ron's ear. Hermione must have heard, because she backed away, unsure of what Harry had in mind and wanting to give him space. Unfortunately, this gave Malfoy some more temporary ammunition.

"Scared, Granger?" he said, and it was frustrating that Hermione couldn't contradict him. I hoped that whatever Harry was planning would be worth it. He indicated for us to move behind Malfoy, and we did so. He bent down and scooped a large handful of mud out of the path, and getting the idea, Demelza and I did so too.

'We were just discussing your friend Hagrid,' Malfoy said to Ron. 'Just trying to imagine what he's saying to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. D'you think he'll cry when they cut off his Hippogriff's –'

At that moment, Demelza, Harry and I all threw the mud simultaneously, and each throw landed perfectly on the back of Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle's heads!

SPLAT!

Their heads jerked forwards as the mud hit them. Ron and Hermione had to hold onto the fence to keep themselves standing, they were laughing so hard. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle spun stupidly on the spot, staring wildly around.

'What was that? Who did that?'

'Very haunted up here, isn't it?' said Ron, with the air of one commenting on the weather. Crabbe and Goyle were looking scared. Their bulging muscles were no use against ghosts. Malfoy was staring madly around at the deserted landscape.

We sneaked along the path, where a particularly sloppy puddle yielded some foul-smelling, green sludge.

SPLATTER!

'It came from over there!' said Malfoy, wiping his face, and staring at a spot some six feet to the left of us.

Crabbe blundered forwards, his long arms outstretched like a zombie. We dodged around him, Harry picked up a stick, and lobbed it at Crabbe's back. We doubled up with silent laughter as Crabbe did a kind of pirouette in mid-air, trying to see who had thrown it. As Ron and Hermione were the only people Crabbe could see, it was them he started towards, but Harry stuck out his leg. Crabbe stumbled – and his huge, flat foot caught the hem of the Cloak. We felt a great tug, then the Cloak slid off Harry's face!