Joanne Murray - Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Before Fudge could answer, two wizards came through the castle doors behind him. One was so ancient he appeared to be withering before their very eyes; the other was tall and strapping, with a thin black moustache. Harry gathered that they were representatives of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, because the very old wizard squinted towards Hagrid’s cabin and said in a feeble voice, ‘Dear, dear, I’m getting too old for this ... two o’clock, isn’t it, Fudge?’

The black-moustached man was fingering something in his belt; Harry looked and saw that he was running one broad thumb along the blade of a shining axe. Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione nudged him hard in the ribs and jerked her head towards the Entrance Hall.

‘Why’d you stop me?’ said Ron angrily, as they entered the Great Hall for lunch. ‘Did you see them? They’ve even got the axe ready! This isn’t justice!’

‘Ron, your dad works for the Ministry. You can’t go saying things like that to his boss!’ said Hermione, but she, too, looked very upset. ‘As long as Hagrid keeps his head this time, and argues his case properly, they can’t possibly execute Buckbeak ... ’

But Harry could tell Hermione didn’t really believe what she was saying. All around them, people were talking excitedly as they ate their lunch, happily anticipating the end of exams that afternoon, but Harry, Ron and Hermione, lost in worry about

Hagrid and Buckbeak, didn’t join in.

Harry and Ron’s last exam was Divination; Hermione’s, Muggle Studies. They walked up the marble staircase together. Hermione left them on the first floor and Harry and Ron proceeded all the way up to the seventh, where many of their class were sitting on the spiral staircase to Professor Trelawney’s classroom, trying to cram in a bit of last-minute revision.

‘She’s seeing us all separately,’ Neville informed them, as they went to sit down next to him. He had his copy of Unfogging the Future open on his lap at the pages devoted to crystal-gazing. ‘Have either of you ever seen anything in a crystal ball?’ he asked them unhappily.

‘Nope,’ said Ron, in an offhand voice. He kept checking his watch; Harry knew that he was counting down the time until Buckbeak’s appeal started.

The queue of people outside the classroom shortened very slowly. As each person climbed back down the silver ladder, the rest of the class hissed, ‘What did she ask? Was it OK?’

But they all refused to say.

‘She says the crystal ball’s told her that, if I tell you, I’ll have a horrible accident!’ squeaked Neville, as he clambered back down the ladder towards Harry and Ron, who had now reached the landing.

‘That’s convenient,’ snorted Ron. ‘You know, I’m starting to think Hermione was right about her,’ (he jabbed his thumb towards the trapdoor overhead), ‘she’s a right old fraud.’

‘Yeah,’ said Harry, looking at his own watch. It was now two o’clock. ‘Wish she’d hurry up ...’

Parvati came back down the ladder glowing with pride.

‘She says I’ve got all the makings of a true Seer,’ she informed Harry and Ron. ‘I saw loads of stuff ... well, good luck!’

She hurried off down the spiral staircase towards Lavender.

‘Ronald Weasley,’ said the familiar, misty voice from over their heads. Ron grimaced at Harry, and climbed the silver ladder out of sight. Harry was now the only person left to be tested. He settled himself on the floor with his back against the wall, listening to a fly buzzing in the sunny window, his mind across the grounds with Hagrid.

Finally, after about twenty minutes, Ron’s large feet reappeared on the ladder.

‘How’d it go?’ Harry asked him, standing up.

‘Rubbish,’ said Ron. ‘Couldn’t see a thing, so I made some stuff up. Don’t think she was convinced, though ... ’

‘Meet you in the common room,’ Harry muttered, as Professor Trelawney’s voice called, ‘Harry Potter!’

The tower room was hotter than ever before; the curtains were closed, the fire was alight, and the usual sickly scent made Harry cough as he stumbled through the clutter of chairs and tables to where Professor Trelawney sat waiting for him before a large crystal ball.

‘Good day, my dear,’ she said softly. ‘If you would kindly gaze into the Orb ... take your time, now ... then tell me what you see within it ...’

Harry bent over the crystal ball and stared, stared as hard as he could, willing it to show him something other than swirling white fog, but nothing happened.

‘Well?’ Professor Trelawney prompted delicately. ‘What do you

see?’

The heat was overpowering and his nostrils were stinging with the perfumed smoke wafting from the fire beside them. He thought of what Ron had just said, and decided to pretend.

‘Er -,’ said Harry, ‘a dark shape ... um ...’

‘What does it resemble?’ whispered Professor Trelawney ‘Think, now ... ’

Harry cast his mind around and it landed on Buckbeak.

‘A Hippogriff,’ he said firmly.

‘Indeed!’ whispered Professor Trelawney, scribbling keenly on the parchment perched upon her knees. ‘My boy, you may well be seeing the outcome of poor Hagrid’s trouble with the Ministry of Magic! Look closer ... does the Hippogriff appear to ... have its head?’

‘Yes,’ said Harry firmly.

‘Are you sure?’ Professor Trelawney urged him. ‘Are you quite sure, dear? You don’t see it writhing on the ground, perhaps, and a shadowy figure raising an axe behind it?’

‘No!’ said Harry, starting to feel slightly sick.

‘No blood? No weeping Hagrid?’

‘No!’ said Harry again, wanting more than ever to leave the room and the heat. ‘It looks fine, it’s - flying away ... ’

Professor Trelawney sighed.

‘Well, dear, I think we’ll leave it there ... a little disappointing ... but I’m sure you did your best.’

Relieved, Harry got up, picked up his bag and turned to go, but then a loud, harsh voice spoke behind him.

‘It will happen tonight.’

Harry wheeled around. Professor Trelawney had gone rigid in her armchair; her eyes were unfocused and her mouth sagging. ‘S-sorry?’ said Harry.

But Professor Trelawney didn’t seem to hear him. Her eyes started to roll. Harry stood there in a panic. She looked as though she was about to have some sort of seizure. He hesitated, thinking of running to the hospital wing - and then Professor Trelawney spoke again, in the same harsh voice, quite unlike her own:

‘The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight, the servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant’s aid, greater and more terrible than ever before. Tonight ... before midnight ... the servant ... will set out... to rejoin ... his master ...’

Professor Trelawney’s head fell forwards onto her chest. She made a grunting sort of noise. Then, quite suddenly, her head snapped up again.

‘I’m so sorry, dear boy,’ she said dreamily. ‘The heat of the day, you know ... I drifted off for a moment ...’

Harry stood there, still staring.

‘Is there anything wrong, my dear?’

‘You - you just told me that the - the Dark Lord’s going to rise again ... that his servant’s going to go back to him ...’

Professor Trelawney looked thoroughly startled.

‘The Dark Lord? He Who Must Not Be Named? My dear boy, that’s hardly something to joke about ... rise again, indeed ...’

‘But you just said it! You said the Dark Lord -’