Harry and Cho looked at each other.

“Thanks,” Harry said.

“No problem,” said Cho, finally fixing the parcel to the barn owl’s other leg, her face slightly pink. “You weren’t ordering Dungbombs, were you?”

“No,” said Harry.

“I wonder why he thought you were, then?” she said as she carried the owl to the window.

Harry shrugged. He was quite as mystified by that as she was, though oddly it was not bothering him very much at the moment.

They left the Owlery together. At the entrance of a corridor that led towards the west wing of the castle, Cho said, “I’m going this way. Well, I’ll… I’ll see you around, Harry.”

“Yeah… see you.”

She smiled at him and departed. Harry walked on, feeling quietly elated. He had managed to have an entire conversation with her and not embarrassed himself once… you were really brave standing up to her like that… Cho had called him brave… she did not hate him for being alive…

Of course, she had preferred Cedric, he knew that… though if he’d only asked her to the Ball before Cedric had, things might have turned out differently… she had seemed sincerely sorry that she’d had to refuse when Harry asked her…

“Morning,” Harry said brightly to Ron and Hermione as he joined them at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

“What are you looking so pleased about?” said Ron, eyeing Harry in surprise.

“Erm… Quidditch later,” said Harry happily, pulling a large platter of bacon and eggs towards him.

“Oh… yeah…” said Ron. He put down the piece of toast he was eating and took a large swig of pumpkin juice. Then he said, “Listen… you don’t fancy going out a bit earlier with me, do you? Just to—er—give me some practice before training? So I can, you know, get my eye in a bit.”

“Yeah, OK,” said Harry.

“Look, I don’t think you should,” said Hermione seriously. “You’re both really behind on homework as it—”

But she broke off; the morning post was arriving and, as usual, the Daily Prophet was soaring towards her in the beak of a screech owl, which landed perilously close to the sugar bowl and held out a leg. Hermione pushed a Knut into its leather pouch, took the newspaper, and scanned the front page critically as the owl took off.

“Anything interesting?” said Ron. Harry grinned, knowing Ron was keen to keep her off the subject of homework.

“No,” she sighed, “just some guff about the bass player in the Weird Sisters getting married.”

Hermione opened the paper and disappeared behind it. Harry devoted himself to another helping of eggs and bacon. Ron was staring up at the high windows, looking slightly preoccupied.

“Wait a moment,” said Hermione suddenly. “Oh no… Sirius!”

“What’s happened?” said Harry, snatching at the paper so violently it ripped down the middle, with him and Hermione each holding one half.

“‘The Ministry of Magic has received a tip-off from a reliable source that Sirius Black, notorious mass murderer… blah blah blah… is currently hiding in London!’” Hermione read from her half in an anguished whisper.

“Lucius Malfoy, I’ll bet anything,” said Harry in a low, furious voice. “He did recognise Sirius on the platform…”

“What?” said Ron, looking alarmed. “You didn’t say—”

“Shh!” said the other two.

“‘…Ministry warns wizarding community that Black is very dangerous… killed thirteen people… broke out of Azkaban…’ the usual rubbish,” Hermione concluded, laying down her half of the paper and looking fearfully at Harry and Ron. “Well, he just won’t be able to leave the house again, that’s all,” she whispered. “Dumbledore did warn him not to.”

Harry looked down glumly at the bit of the Prophet he had torn off. Most of the page was devoted to an advertisement for Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, which was apparently having a sale.

“Hey!” he said, flattening it down so Hermione and Ron could see it. “Look at this!”

“I’ve got all the robes I want,” said Ron.

“No,” said Harry. “Look… this little piece here…”

Ron and Hermione bent closer to read it; the item was barely an inch long and placed right at the bottom of a column. It was headlined:

...

TRESPASS AT MINISTRY

Sturgis Podmore, 38, of number two, Laburnum Gardens, Clapham, has appeared in front of the Wizengamot charged with trespass and attempted robbery at the Ministry of Magic on 31st August. Podmore was arrested by Ministry of Magic watchwizard Eric Munch, who found him attempting to force his way through a top-security door at one o’clock in the morning. Podmore, who refused to speak in his own defence, was convicted on both charges and sentenced to six months in Azkaban.

“Sturgis Podmore?” said Ron slowly. “He’s that bloke who looks like his head’s been thatched, isn’t he? He’s one of the Ord—”

“Ron, shh!” said Hermione, casting a terrified look around them.

“Six months in Azkaban!” whispered Harry, shocked. “Just for trying to get through a door!”

“Don’t be silly, it wasn’t just for trying to get through a door. What on earth was he doing at the Ministry of Magic at one o’clock in the morning?” breathed Hermione.

“D’you reckon he was doing something for the Order?” Ron muttered.

“Wait a moment…” said Harry slowly. “Sturgis was supposed to come and see us off, remember?”

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Cho looked up, the parcel only half-attached to the owl’s legs.	\|	The other two looked at him.

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