Harry's heart began to race

Harry's heart began to race. He had not told Ron, Hermione or anyone else what the prophecy had contained. Neville had told them it had smashed while Harry was pulling him up the steps in the Death Room and Harry had not yet corrected this impression. He was not ready to see their expressions when he told them that he must be either murderer or victim, there was no other way ...

‘It is a pity it broke,’ said Hermione quietly, shaking her head.

‘Yeah, it is,’ said Ron. ‘Still, at least You-Know-Who never found out what was in it either— where are you going?’ he added, looking both surprised and disappointed as Harry stood up.

‘Er—Hagrid's,’ said Harry. ‘You know, he just got back and I promised I'd go down and see him and tell him how you two are.’

‘Oh, all right then,’ said Ron grumpily, looking out of the dormitory window at the patch of bright blue sky beyond. ‘Wish we could come.’

‘Say hello to him for us!’ called Hermione, as Harry proceeded down the ward. ‘And ask him what's happening about ... about his little friend!’

Harry gave a wave of his hand to show he had heard and understood as he left the dormitory.

The castle seemed very quiet even for a Sunday. Everybody was clearly out in the sunny grounds, enjoying the end of their exams and the prospect of a last few days of term unhampered by revision or homework. Harry walked slowly along the deserted corridor, peering out of windows as he went; he could see people messing around in the air over the Quidditch pitch and a couple of students swimming in the lake, accompanied by the giant squid.

He was finding it hard to decide whether he wanted to be with people or not; whenever he was in company he wanted to get away and whenever he was alone he wanted company. He thought he might really go and visit Hagrid, though, as he had not talked to him properly since he'd returned ...

Harry had just descended the last marble step into the Entrance Hall when Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle emerged from a door on the right that Harry knew led down to the Slytherin common room. Harry stopped dead; so did Malfoy and the others. The only sounds were the shouts, laughter and splashes drifting into the Hall from the grounds through the open front doors.

Malfoy glanced around—Harry knew he was checking for signs of teachers—then he looked back at Harry and said in a low voice, ‘You're dead, Potter.’

Harry raised his eyebrows.

‘Funny.’ he said, ‘you'd think I'd have stopped walking around ...’

Malfoy looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him; he felt a kind of detached satisfaction at the sight of his pale, pointed face contorted with rage.

‘You're going to pay,’ said Malfoy, in a voice barely louder than a whisper. ‘I'm going to make you pay for what you've done to my father ...’

‘Well, I'm terrified now,’ said Harry sarcastically. ‘I s'pose Lord Voldemort's just a warm-up act compared to you three—what's the matter?’ he added, for Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had all looked stricken at the sound of the name. ‘He's a mate of your dad, isn't he? Not scared of him, are you?’

‘You think you're such a big man, Potter,’ said Malfoy, advancing now, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him. ‘You wait. I'll have you. You can't land my father in prison—’

‘I thought I just had,’ said Harry.

‘The dementors have left Azkaban,’ said Malfoy quietly. ‘Dad and the others'll be out in no time ...’

‘Yeah, I expect they will,’ said Harry. ‘Still, at least everyone knows what scumbags they are now—’

Malfoy's hand flew towards his wand, but Harry was too quick for him; he had drawn his own wand before Malfoy's fingers had even entered the pocket of his robes.