Joanne Murray - Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

The bottle of Rat Tonic was lying under the table they had sat at earlier. Harry waited until he heard Mr and Mrs Weasley’s bedroom door close, then headed back upstairs with the bottle.

Fred and George were crouching in the shadows on the landing, heaving with laughter as they listened to Percy dismantling his and Ron’s room in the search for his badge.

‘We’ve got it,’ Fred whispered to Harry. ‘We’ve been improving it.’

The badge now read Bighead Boy.

Harry forced a laugh, went to give Ron the rat tonic, then shut

himself in his room and lay down on his bed.

So Sirius Black was after him. That explained everything. Fudge had been lenient with him because he was so relieved to find him alive. He’d made Harry promise to stay in Diagon Alley, where there were plenty of wizards to keep an eye on him. And he was sending two Ministry cars to take them all to the station tomorrow, so that the Weasleys could look after Harry until he was on the train.

Harry lay listening to the muffled shouting next door and wondered why he didn’t feel more scared. Sirius Black had murdered thirteen people with one curse; Mr and Mrs Weasley obviously thought Harry would be panic-stricken if he knew the truth. But Harry happened to agree whole-heartedly with Mrs Weasley that the safest place on earth was wherever Albus Dumbledore happened to be. Didn’t people always say that Dumbledore was the only person Lord Voldemort had ever been afraid of? Surely Black, as Voldemort’s right-hand man, would be just as frightened of him?

And then there were these Azkaban guards everyone kept talking about. They seemed to scare most people senseless, and if they were stationed all around the school, Black’s chances of getting inside seemed very remote.

No, all in all, the thing that bothered Harry most was the fact that his chances of visiting Hogsmeade now looked like zero. Nobody would want Harry to leave the safety of the castle until Black was caught; in fact, Harry suspected his every move would be carefully watched until the danger had passed.

He scowled at the dark ceiling. Did they think he couldn’t look after himself? He’d escaped Lord Voldemort three times, he wasn’t completely useless ...

Unbidden, the image of the beast in the shadows of Magnolia Crescent crossed his mind. What to do when you know the worst is coming...

‘I’m not going to be murdered,’ Harry said out loud.

‘That’s the spirit, dear,’ said his mirror sleepily.

— CHAPTER FIVE —

Tom woke Harry next morning with his usual toothless grin and a cup of tea. Harry got dressed and was just persuading a disgruntled Hedwig to get back into her cage when Ron banged his way into the room, pulling a sweatshirt over his head and looking irritable.

‘The sooner we get on the train, the better,’ he said. ‘At least I can get away from Percy at Hogwarts. Now he’s accusing me of dripping tea on his photo of Penelope Clearwater. You know,’ Ron grimaced, ‘his girlfriend. She’s hidden her face under the frame because her nose has gone all blotchy ... ’

‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ Harry began, but they were interrupted by Fred and George, who had looked in to congratulate Ron on infuriating Percy again.

They headed down to breakfast, where Mr Weasley was reading the front page of the Daily Prophet with a furrowed brow and Mrs Weasley was telling Hermione and Ginny about a Love Potion she’d made as a young girl. All three of them were rather giggly. ‘What were you saying?’ Ron asked Harry, as they sat down. ‘Later,’ Harry muttered, as Percy stormed in.

Harry had no chance to speak to Ron or Hermione in the chaos of leaving; they were too busy heaving all their trunks down the Leaky Cauldron’s narrow staircase and piling them up near the door, with Hedwig and Hermes, Percy’s screech owl, perched on top in their cages. A small wickerwork basket stood beside the heap of trunks, spitting loudly.

‘It’s all right, Crookshanks,’ Hermione cooed through the wickerwork, ‘I’ll let you out on the train.’

‘You won’t,’ snapped Ron. ‘What about poor Scabbers, eh?’

He pointed at his chest, where a large lump indicated that Scabbers was curled up in his pocket.

Mr Weasley, who had been outside waiting for the Ministry cars, stuck his head inside.

‘They’re here,’ he said. ‘Harry, come on.’

Mr Weasley marched Harry across the short stretch of pavement towards the first of two old-fashioned dark green cars, each of which was driven by a furtive-looking wizard, wearing a suit of emerald velvet.

‘In you get, Harry,’ said Mr Weasley, glancing up and down the crowded street.

Harry got into the back of the car, and was shortly joined by Hermione, Ron and, to Ron’s disgust, Percy.

The journey to King’s Cross was very uneventful compared to Harry’s trip on the Knight Bus. The Ministry of Magic cars seemed almost ordinary, though Harry noticed that they could slide through gaps that Uncle Vernon’s new company car certainly couldn’t have managed. They reached King’s Cross with twenty minutes to spare; the Ministry drivers found them trolleys, unloaded their trunks, touched their hats to Mr Weasley and drove away, somehow managing to jump to the head of an unmoving queue for the traffic lights.

Mr Weasley kept close to Harry’s elbow all the way into the station.

‘Right then,’ he said, glancing around them. ‘Let’s do this in pairs, as there are so many of us. I’ll go through first with Harry.’

Mr Weasley strolled towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten, pushing Harry’s trolley and apparently very interested in the InterCity 125 that had just arrived at platform nine. With a meaningful look at Harry, he leant casually against the barrier. Harry imitated him.

Next moment, they had fallen sideways through the solid metal onto platform nine and three-quarters and looked up to see the Hogwarts Express, a scarlet steam engine, puffing smoke over a platform packed with witches and wizards seeing their children onto the train.

Percy and Ginny suddenly appeared behind Harry. They were panting, and had apparently taken the barrier at a run.

‘Ah, there’s Penelope!’ said Percy, smoothing his hair and going pink again. Ginny caught Harry’s eye and they both turned away to hide their laughter as Percy strode over to a girl with long, curly hair, walking with his chest thrown out so that she couldn’t

miss his shiny badge.

Once the remaining Weasleys and Hermione had joined them, Harry and Ron led the way to the end of the train, past packed compartments, to a carriage that looked quite empty. They loaded the trunks onto it, stowed Hedwig and Crookshanks in the luggage rack, then went back outside to say goodbye to Mr and Mrs Weasley.

Mrs Weasley kissed all her children, then Hermione, and finally, Harry. He was embarrassed, but really quite pleased, when she gave him an extra hug.

‘Do take care, won’t you, Harry?’ she said as she straightened up, her eyes oddly bright. Then she opened her enormous handbag and said, ‘I’ve made you all sandwiches. Here you are, Ron ... no, they’re not corned beef ... Fred? Where’s Fred? Here you are, dear ... ’

‘Harry,’ said Mr Weasley quietly, ‘come over here a moment.’

He jerked his head towards a pillar, and Harry followed him behind it, leaving the others crowded around Mrs Weasley.

‘There’s something I’ve got to tell you before you leave -’ said Mr Weasley, in a tense voice.

‘It’s all right, Mr Weasley,’ said Harry, ‘I already know.’