Joanne Murray - Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

‘I hope you’re well?’ said Percy pompously, shaking hands. It was rather like being introduced to the mayor.

‘Very well, thanks -’

‘Harry!’ said Fred, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing deeply. ‘Simply splendid to see you, old boy -’

‘Marvellous,’ said George, pushing Fred aside and seizing Harry’s hand in turn. ‘Absolutely spiffing.’

Percy scowled.

‘That’s enough, now,’ said Mrs Weasley.

‘Mum!’ said Fred, as though he’d only just spotted her, and seized her hand, too. ‘How really corking to see you -’

‘I said, that’s enough,’ said Mrs Weasley, depositing her shopping in an empty chair. ‘Hello, Harry, dear. I suppose you’ve heard our exciting news?’ She pointed at the brand-new silver badge on Percy’s chest. ‘Second Head Boy in the family!’ she said, swelling with pride.

‘And last,’ Fred muttered under his breath.

‘I don’t doubt that,’ said Mrs Weasley, frowning suddenly. ‘I notice they haven’t made you two Prefects.’

‘What do we want to be Prefects for?’ said George, looking revolted at the very idea. ‘It’d take all the fun out of life.’

Ginny giggled.

‘You want to set a better example to your sister!’ snapped Mrs Weasley.

‘Ginny’s got other brothers to set her an example, Mother,’ said Percy loftily. ‘I’m going up to change for dinner ... ’

He disappeared and George heaved a sigh.

‘We tried to shut him in a pyramid,’ he told Harry. ‘But Mum spotted us.’

*

Dinner that night was a very enjoyable affair. Tom the innkeeper put three tables together in the parlour and the seven Weasleys, Harry and Hermione ate their way through five delicious courses.

‘How’re we getting to King’s Cross tomorrow, Dad?’ asked Fred, as they tucked into a sumptuous chocolate pudding.

‘The Ministry’s providing a couple of cars,’ said Mr Weasley.

Everyone looked up at him.

‘Why?’ said Percy curiously.

‘It’s because of you, Perce,’ said George seriously. ‘And there’ll be little flags on the bonnets, with HB on them -’

‘— for Humungous Bighead,’ said Fred.

Everyone except Percy and Mrs Weasley snorted into their pud ding.

‘Why are the Ministry providing cars, Father?’ Percy asked again, in a dignified voice.

‘Well, as we haven’t got one any more,’ said Mr Weasley, ‘and as I work there, they’re doing me a favour ...’

His voice was casual, but Harry couldn’t help noticing that Mr Weasley’s ears had gone red, just like Ron’s did when he was under pressure.

‘Good job, too,’ said Mrs Weasley briskly. ‘Do you realise how much luggage you’ve all got between you? A nice sight you’d be on the Muggle Underground ... You are all packed, aren’t you?’

‘Ron hasn’t put all his new things in his trunk yet,’ said Percy, in a long-suffering voice. ‘He’s dumped them on my bed.’

‘You’d better go and pack properly, Ron, because we won’t have much time in the morning,’ Mrs Weasley called down the table. Ron scowled at Percy.

After dinner everyone felt very full and sleepy. One by one they made their way upstairs to their rooms to check their things for the next day. Ron and Percy were next door to Harry. He had just closed and locked his own trunk when he heard angry voices through the wall, and went to see what was going on.

The door of number twelve was ajar and Percy was shouting.

‘It was here, on the bedside table, I took it off for polishing -’

‘I haven’t touched it, all right?’ Ron roared back.

‘What’s up?’ said Harry.

‘My Head Boy badge has gone,’ said Percy, rounding on Harry.

‘So’s Scabbers’s Rat Tonic,’ said Ron, throwing things out of his

trunk to look. ‘I think I might’ve left it in the bar -’

‘You’re not going anywhere till you’ve found my badge!’ yelled Percy.

‘I’ll get Scabbers’s stuff, I’m packed,’ Harry said to Ron, and he went downstairs.

Harry was halfway along the passage to the bar, which was now very dark, when he heard another pair of angry voices coming from the parlour. A second later, he recognised them as Mr and Mrs Weasley’s. He hesitated, not wanting them to know he’d heard them rowing, when the sound of his own name made him stop, then move closer to the parlour door.

‘... makes no sense not to tell him,’ Mr Weasley was saying heatedly. ‘Harry’s got a right to know. I’ve tried to tell Fudge, but he insists on treating Harry like a child. He’s thirteen years old and -’ ‘Arthur, the truth would terrify him!’ said Mrs Weasley shrilly. ‘Do you really want to send Harry back to school with that hanging over him? For heaven’s sake, he’s happy not knowing!’

‘I don’t want to make him miserable, I want to put him on his guard!’ retorted Mr Weasley. ‘You know what Harry and Ron are like, wandering off by themselves - they’ve even ended up in the Forbidden Forest! But Harry mustn’t do that this year! When I think what could have happened to him that night he ran away from home! If the Knight Bus hadn’t picked him up, I’m prepared to bet he would have been dead before the Ministry found him.’

‘But he’s not dead, he’s fine, so what’s the point -’

‘Molly, they say Sirius Black’s mad, and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape from Azkaban, and that’s supposed to be impossible. It’s been a month now, and no one’s seen hide nor hair of him, and I don’t care what Fudge keeps telling the Daily Prophet, we’re no nearer catching Black than inventing selfspelling wands. The only thing we know for sure is what Black’s after -’

‘But Harry will be perfectly safe at Hogwarts.’

‘We thought Azkaban was perfectly safe. If Black can break out of Azkaban, he can break into Hogwarts.’

‘But no one’s really sure that Black’s after Harry -’

There was a thud on wood, and Harry was sure Mr Weasley had banged his fist on the table.

‘Molly, how many times do I have to tell you? They didn’t report it in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet, but Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards told Fudge that Black’s been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same words: “He’s at Hogwarts ... he’s at Hogwarts.” Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants Harry dead. If you ask me, he thinks murdering Harry will bring You-Know-Who back to power. Black lost everything the night Harry stopped You-Know-Who, and he’s had twelve years alone in Azkaban to brood on that ... ’

There was a silence. Harry leant still closer to the door, desperate to hear more.

‘Well, Arthur, you must do what you think is right. But you’re forgetting Albus Dumbledore. I don’t think anything could hurt Harry at Hogwarts while Dumbledore’s Headmaster. I suppose he knows about all this?’

‘Of course he knows. We had to ask him if he minds the Azkaban guards stationing themselves around the entrances to the school grounds. He wasn’t happy about it, but he agreed.’

‘Not happy? Why shouldn’t he be happy, if they’re there to catch Black?’

‘Dumbledore isn’t fond of the Azkaban guards,’ said Mr Weasley heavily. ‘Nor am I, if it comes to that ... but when you’re dealing with a wizard like Black, you sometimes have to join forces with those you’d rather avoid.’

‘If they save Harry -’

‘- then I will never say another word against them,’ said Mr Weasley wearily. ‘It’s late, Molly, we’d better go up ...’

Harry heard chairs move. As quietly as he could, he hurried down the passage to the bar and out of sight. The parlour door opened, and a few seconds later footsteps told him that Mr and Mrs Weasley were climbing the stairs.