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“—and massive sherbert balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground while you’re sucking them,” said Ron, who was plainly not listening to a word Hermione was saying.
Hermione looked around at Harry.
“Won’t it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade?”
“’Spect it will,” said Harry heavily. “You’ll have to tell me when you’ve found out.”
“What d’you mean?” said Ron.
“I can’t go. The Dursleys didn’t sign my permission form, and Fudge wouldn’t either.”
Ron looked horrified.
“You’re not allowed to come? But—no way—McGonagall or someone will give you permission—”
Harry gave a hollow laugh. Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House, was very strict.
“—or we can ask Fred and George, they know every secret passage out of the castle—”
“Ron!” said Hermione sharply. “I don’t think Harry should be sneaking out of school with Black on the loose—”
“Yeah, I expect that’s what McGonagall will say when I ask for permission,” said Harry bitterly.
“But if we’re with him,” said Ron spiritedly to Hermione, “Black wouldn’t dare—”
“Oh, Ron, don’t talk rubbish,” snapped Hermione. “Black’s already murdered a whole bunch of people in the middle of a crowded street. Do you really think he’s going to worry about attacking Harry just because we’re there?”
She was fumbling with the straps of Crookshanks’s basket as she spoke.
“Don’t let that thing out!” Ron said, but too late; Crookshanks leapt lightly from the basket, stretched, yawned, and sprang onto Ron’s knees; the lump in Ron’s pocket trembled and he shoved Crookshanks angrily away.
“Get out of here!”
“Ron, don’t!” said Hermione angrily.
Ron was about to answer back when Professor Lupin stirred. They watched him apprehensively, but he simply turned his head the other way, mouth slightly open, and slept on.
The Hogwarts Express moved steadily north and the scenery outside the window became wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thickened. People were chasing backward and forward past the door of their compartment. Crookshanks had now settled in an empty seat, his squashed face turned toward Ron, his yellow eyes on Ron’s top pocket.
At one o’clock, the plump witch with the food cart arrived at the compartment door.
“D’you think we should wake him up?” Ron asked awkwardly, nodding toward Professor Lupin. “He looks like he could do with some food.”
Hermione approached Professor Lupin cautiously.
“Er—Professor?” she said. “Excuse me—Professor?”
He didn’t move.
“Don’t worry, dear,” said the witch as she handed Harry a large stack of Cauldron Cakes. “If he’s hungry when he wakes, I’ll be up front with the driver.”
“I suppose he is asleep?” said Ron quietly as die witch slid the compartment door closed. “I mean—he hasn’t died, has he?”
“No, no, he’s breathing,” whispered Hermione, taking the Cauldron Cake Harry passed her.
He might not be very good company, but Professor Lupin’s presence in their compartment had its uses. Midafternoon, just as it had started to rain, blurring the rolling hills outside the window, they heard footsteps in the corridor again, and their three least favorite people appeared at the door: Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.
Draco Malfoy and Harry had been enemies ever since they had met on their very first train journey to Hogwarts. Malfoy, who had a pale, pointed, sneering face, was in Slytherin House; he played Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team, the same position that Harry played on the Gryffindor team. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to exist to do Malfoy’s bidding. They were both wide and musclely; Crabbe was taller, with a pudding-bowl haircut and a very thick neck; Goyle had short, bristly hair and long, gorilla-ish arms.
“Well, look who it is,” said Malfoy in his usual lazy drawl, pulling open the compartment door. “Potty and the Weasel.”
Crabbe and Goyle chuckled trollishly.
“I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer, Weasley,” said Malfoy. “Did your mother die of shock?”
Ron stood up so quickly he knocked Crookshanks’s basket to the floor. Professor Lupin gave a snort.
“Who’s that?” said Malfoy, taking an automatic step backward as he spotted Lupin.
“New teacher,” said Harry, who got to his feet, too, in case he needed to hold Ron back. “What were you saying, Malfoy?”
Malfoy’s pale eyes narrowed; he wasn’t fool enough to pick a fight right under a teacher’s nose.
“C’mon,” he muttered resentfully to Crabbe and Goyle, and they disappeared.
Harry and Ron sat down again, Ron massaging his knuckles.
“I’m not going to take any crap from Malfoy this year,” he said angrily. “I mean it. If he makes one more crack about my family, I’m going to get hold of his head and—” Ron made a violent gesture in midair.
“Ron,” hissed Hermione, pointing at Professor Lupin, “be careful…”
But Professor Lupin was still fast asleep.
The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still, Professor Lupin slept.
“We must be nearly there,” said Ron, leaning forward to look past Professor Lupin at the now completely black window.
The words had hardly left him when the train started to slow down.
“Great,” said Ron, getting up and walking carefully past Professor Lupin to try and see outside. “I’m starving. I want to get to the feast…”
“We can’t be there yet,” said Hermione, checking her watch.
“So why’re we stopping?”
The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows.
Harry, who was nearest the door, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments.
The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.
“What’s going on?” said Ron’s voice from behind Harry.
“Ouch!” gasped Hermione. “Ron, that was my foot!” Harry felt his way back to his seat.
“D’you think we’ve broken down?”
“Du
There was a squeaking sound, and Harry saw the dim black outline of Ron, wiping a patch clean on the window and peering out.
“There’s something moving out there,” Ron said. “I think people are coming aboard…”
The compartment door suddenly opened and someone fell painfully over Harry’s legs.
“Sorry—d’you know what’s going on?—Ouch—sorry—”
“Hullo, Neville,” said Harry, feeling around in the dark and pulling Neville up by his cloak.
“Harry? Is that you? What’s happening?”
“No idea—sit down—”
There was a loud hissing and a yelp of pain; Neville had tried to sit on Crookshanks.
“I’m going to go and ask the driver what’s going on,” came Hermione’s voice. Harry felt her pass him, heard the door slide open again, and then a thud and two loud squeals of pain.
“Who’s that?”
“Who’s that?”
“Gi
“Hermione?”
“What are you doing?”
“I was looking for Ron—”
“Come in and sit down—”
“Not here!” said Harry hurriedly. “I’m here!”
“Ouch!” said Neville.
“Quiet!” said a hoarse voice suddenly.
Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last. Harry could hear movements in his corner.
None of them spoke.
There was a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminated his tired, gray face, but his eyes looked alert and wary.