And he told them what Professor McGonagall had said. To his surprise, neither of the others looked shocked. On the contrary, they exchanged significant looks.
“What?” said Harry, looking from Ron to Hermione and back again.
“Well, I was just saying to Ron… what if someone had tried to intercept Hedwig? I mean, she’s never been hurt on a flight before, has she?”
“Who’s the letter from, anyway?” asked Ron, taking the note from Harry.
“Snuffles,” said Harry quietly.
“‘Same time, same place’? Does he mean the fire in the common room?”
“Obviously,” said Hermione, also reading the note. She looked uneasy. “I just hope nobody else has read this…”
“But it was still sealed and everything,” said Harry, trying to convince himself as much as her. “And nobody would understand what it meant if they didn’t know where we’d spoken to him before, would they?”
“I don’t know,” said Hermione anxiously, hitching her bag back over her shoulder as the bell rang again, “it wouldn’t be exactly difficult to re-seal the scroll by magic… and if anyone’s watching the Floo Network… but I don’t really see how we can warn him not to come without that being intercepted, too!”
They trudged down the stone steps to the dungeons for Potions, all three of them lost in thought, but as they reached the bottom of the steps they were recalled to themselves by the voice of Draco Malfoy who was standing just outside Snape’s classroom door, waving around an official-looking piece of parchment and talking much louder than was necessary so that they could hear every word.
“Yeah, Umbridge gave the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straightaway, I went to ask her first thing this morning. Well, it was pretty much automatic, I mean, she knows my father really well, he’s always popping in and out of the Ministry… it’ll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor are allowed to keep playing, won’t it?”
“Don’t rise,” Hermione whispered imploringly to Harry and Ron, who were both watching Malfoy, faces set and fists clenched. “It’s what he wants.”
“I mean,” said Malfoy, raising his voice a little more, his grey eyes glittering malevolently in Harry and Ron’s direction, “if it’s a question of influence with the Ministry, I don’t think they’ve got much chance… from what my father says, they’ve been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years… and as for Potter… my father says it’s a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St. Mungo’s… apparently they’ve got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic.”
Malfoy made a grotesque face, his mouth sagging open and his eyes rolling. Crabbe and Goyle gave their usual grunts of laughter; Pansy Parkinson shrieked with glee.