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bang. Peeves the Poltergeist came shooting out.

"Why, it's potty wee Potter!" cackled Peeves, knocking Harry's

glasses askew as he bounced past him. "What's Potter up to? Why's

Potter lurking -"

*202*

Peeves stopped, halfway through a midair somersault. Upside down,

he spotted Justin and Nearly Headless Nick. He flipped the right

way up, filled his lungs and, before Harry could stop him, screamed,

"ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL

OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!

ATTAAAACK!"

Crash - crash - crash - door after door flew open along the corridor

and people flooded out. For several long minutes, there was a scene

of such confusion that Justin was in danger of being squashed and

people kept standing in Nearly Headless Nick. Harry found himself

pinned against the wall as the teachers shouted for quiet. Professor

McGonagall came running, followed by her own class, one of whom

still had black-and-white-striped hair. She used her wand to set off

aloud bang, which restored silence, and ordered everyone back into

their classes. No sooner had the scene cleared somewhat than Ernie

the Hufflepuff arrived, panting, on the scene.

"Caught in the act!" Ernie yelled, his face stark white, pointing his

finger dramatically at Harry.

"That will do, Macmillan!" said Professor McGonagall sharply.

Peeves was bobbing overhead, now grinning wickedly, surveying the

scene; Peeves always loved chaos. As the teachers bent over Justin

and Nearly Headless Nick, examining them, Peeves broke into song:

"Oh, Potter, you rotter, oh, what have you done,

You're killing off' students, you think it's good fun -"

"That's enough Peeves!" barked Professor McGonagall, and Peeves

zoomed away backward, with his tongue out at Harry.

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*203*

Justin was carried up to the hospital wing by Professor Flitwick and

Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department, but nobody seemed

to know what to do for Nearly Headless Nick. In the end, Professor

McGonagall conjured a large fan out of thin air, which she gave to

Ernie with instructions to waft Nearly Headless Nick up the stairs.

This Ernie did, fanning Nick along like a silent black hovercraft. This

left Harry and Professor McGonagall alone together.

"This way, Potter," she said.

"Professor," said Harry at once, "I swear I didn't -"

"This is out of my hands, Potter," said Professor McGonagall curtly.

They marched in silence around a corner and she stopped before a

large and extremely ugly stone gargoyle.

"Lemon drop!" she said. This was evidently a password, because the

gargoyle sprang suddenly to life and hopped aside as the wall behind

him split in two. Even full of dread for what was coming, Harry

couldn't fail to be amazed. Behind the wall was a spiral staircase that

was moving smoothly upward, like an escalator. As he and Professor

McGonagall stepped onto it, Harry heard the wall thud closed behind

them. They rose upward in circles, higher and higher, until at last,

slightly dizzy, Harry saw a gleaming oak door ahead, with a brass

knocker in the shape of a griffin.

He knew now where he was being taken. This must be where

Dumbledore lived.

*204*

C I3 A P T V RR T W E I V

THE POLYJUICE POTION

hey stepped off the stone staircase at the top, and Professor

McGonagall rapped on the door. It opened silently and they entered.

Professor McGonagall told Harry to wait and left him there, alone.

173

Harry looked around. One thing was certain: of all the teachers'

offices Harry had visited so far this year, Dumbledore's was by far

the most interesting. If he hadn't been scared out of his wits that he

was about to be thrown out of school, he would have been very

pleased to have a chance to look around it.

It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. A

number of curious silver instruments stood on spindlelegged tables,

whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered

with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom

were snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous,

claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tattered

wizard's hat - the Sorting Hat.

*205*

Harry hesitated. He cast a wary eye around the sleeping witches and

wizards on the walls. Surely it couldn't hurt if he took the hat down

and tried it on again? Just to see ... just to make sure it had put him in

the right House

He walked quietly around the desk, lifted the hat from its shelf, and

lowered it slowly onto his head. It was much too large and slipped

down over his eyes, just as it had done the last time he'd put it on.

Harry stared at the black inside of the hat, waiting. Then a small voice

said in his ear, "Bee in your bonnet, Harry Potter?"

"Er, yes," Harry muttered. "Er - sorry to bother you - I wanted to ask

"

"You've been wondering whether I put you in the right House," said

the hat smartly. "Yes ... you were particularly difficult to place. But I

stand by what I said before" - Harry's heart leapt - "you would have

done well in Slytherin -"

Harry's stomach plummeted. He grabbed the point of the hat and

pulled it off. It hung limply in his hand, grubby and faded. Harry

pushed it back onto its shelf, feeling sick.

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"You're wrong," he said aloud to the still and silent hat. It didn't move.

Harry backed away, watching it. Then a strange, gagging noise behind

him made him wheel around.

He wasn't alone after all. Standing on a golden perch behind the door

was a decrepit-looking bird that resembled a half-plucked turkey.

Harry stared at it and the bird looked balefully back, making its

gagging noise again. Harry thought it looked very ill. Its eyes were dull

and, even as Harry watched, a couple more feathers fell out of its tail.

Harry was just thinking that all he needed was for Dumbledore's

pet bird to die while he was alone in the office with it, when the bird

burst into flames.

Harry yelled in shock and backed away into the desk. He looked

feverishly around in case there was a glass of water somewhere but

couldn't see one; the bird, meanwhile, had become a fireball; it gave

one loud shriek and next second there was nothing but a smouldering

pile of ash on the floor.

The office door opened. Dumbledore came in, looking very somber.

"Professor," Harry gasped. "Your bird - I couldn't do anything - he just

caught fire -"

To Harry's astonishment, Dumbledore smiled.

"About time, too," he said. "He's been looking dreadful for days; I've

been telling him to get a move on."

He chuckled at the stunned look on Harry's face.

"Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry. Phoenixes burst into flame when it is

time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes. Watch him . . ."

Harry looked down in time to see a tiny, wrinkled, newborn bird poke

its head out of the ashes. It was quite as ugly as the old one.

"It's a shame you had to see him on a Burning Day," said Dumbledore,

seating himself behind his desk. "He's really very handsome most of

the time, wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures,

175

phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have

healing powers, and they make highly faithful pets."

In the shock of Fawkes catching fire, Harry had forgotten what he

was there for, but it all came back to him as Dumbledore settled

himself in the high chair behind the desk and fixed Harry with his

penetrating, light-blue stare.

Before Dumbledore could speak another word, however, the door of

the office flew open with an almighty bang and Hagrid burst in, a wild

look in his eyes, his balaclava perched on top of his shaggy black head

and the dead rooster still swinging from his hand.

"It wasn' Harry, Professor Dumbledore!" said Hagrid urgently. "I was

talkin' ter him seconds before that kid was found, he never had time, sir

"

Dumbledore tried to say something, but Hagrid went ranting on,

waving the rooster around in his agitation, sending feathers

everywhere.

"- it can't've bin him, I'll swear it in front o' the Ministry o' Magic if I

have to -"

"Hagrid, I -"

"- yeh've got the wrong boy, sir, I know Harry never ='

"Hagrid!" said Dumbledore loudly. "I do not think that Harry

attacked those people."

"Oh," said Hagrid, the rooster falling limply at his side. "Right. I'll wait

outside then, Headmaster."

And he stomped out looking embarrassed.

"You don't think it was me, Professor?" Harry repeated hopefully as

Dumbledore brushed rooster feathers off his desk.

"No, Harry, I don't," said Dumbledore, though his face was somber

again. "But I still want to talk to you."

176

Harry waited nervously while Dumbledore considered him, the tips of

his long fingers together.

*208*

"I must ask you, Harry, whether there is anything you'd like to tell me,"

he said gently. "Anything at all."

Harry didn't know what to say. He thought of Malfoy shouting, "You'll

be next, Mudbloods!" and of the Polyjuice Potion simmering away in

Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Then he thought of the disembodied

voice he had heard twice and remembered what Ron had said:

"Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the

wizarding world." He thought, too, about what everyone was saying

about him, and his growing dread that he was somehow connected

with Salazar Slytherin ....

"No," said Harry. "There isn't anything, Professor . . . ."

The double attack on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick turned what

had hitherto been nervousness into real panic. Curiously, it was Nearly

Headless Nick's fate that seemed to worry people most. What could

possibly do that to a ghost? people asked each other; what terrible

power could harm someone who was already dead? There was

almost a stampede to book seats on the Hogwarts Express so that

students could go home for Christmas.

"At this rate, we'll be the only ones left," Ron told Harry and

Hermione. "Us, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. What a jolly holiday it's

going to be."

Crabbe and Goyle, who always did whatever Malfoy did, had signed

up to stay over the holidays, too. But Harry was glad that most people

were leaving. He was tired of people skirting around him in the

corridors, as though he was about to sprout fangs or spit poison; tired

of all the muttering, pointing, and hissing as he passed.

*209*

Fred and George, however, found all this very funny. They went out of

their way to march ahead of Harry down the corridors, shouting,

177

"Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming

through ......

Percy was deeply disapproving of this behavior.

"It is not a laughing matter," he said coldly.

"Oh, get out of the way, Percy," said Fred. "Harry's in a hurry."

"Yeah, he's off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with his

fanged servant," said George, chortling.

Ginny didn't find it amusing either.

"Oh, don't," she wailed every time Fred asked Harry loudly who he

was planning to attack next, or when George pretended to ward Harry

off with a large clove of garlic when they met.

Harry didn't mind; it made him feel better that Fred and George, at

least, thought the idea of his being Slytherin's heir was quite ludicrous.

But their antics seemed to be aggravating Draco Malfoy, who looked

increasingly sour each time he saw them at it.

"It's because he's bursting to say it's really him," said Ron knowingly.

"You know how he hates anyone beating him at anything, and you're

getting all the credit for his dirty work."

"Not for long," said Hermione in a satisfied tone. "The Polyjuice

Potion's nearly ready. We'll be getting the truth out of him any day

now."

At last the term ended, and a silence deep as the snow on the grounds

descended on the castle. Harry found it peaceful, rather than gloomy,

and enjoyed the fact that he, Hermione, and the Weasleys had the run

of Gryffindor Tower, which meant they could

*210*

play Exploding Snap loudly without bothering anyone, and practice

dueling in private. Fred, George, and Ginny had chosen to stay at

school rather than visit Bill in Egypt with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

Percy, who disapproved of what he termed their childish behavior,

178

didn't spend much time in the Gryffindor common room. He had

already told them pompously that he was only staying over Christmas

because it was his duty as a prefect to support the teachers during

this troubled time.

Christmas morning dawned, cold and white. Harry and Ron, the only

ones left in their dormitory, were woken very early by Hermione,

who burst in, fully dressed and carrying presents for them both.

"Wake up," she said loudly, pulling back the curtains at the window.

"Hermione - you're not supposed to be in here -" said Ron, shielding

his eyes against the light.

"Merry Christmas to you, too," said Hermione, throwing him his

present. "I've been up for nearly an hour, adding more lacewings to

the potion. It's ready."

Harry sat up, suddenly wide awake.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," said Hermione, shifting Scabbers the rat so that she could