Mr Weasly woke us after only a few hours sleep. Heused magic to pack up the tents, and we left thecampsite as quickly as possible, passing Mr. Roberts at the door ofhis cottage. Mr. Roberts had a strange, dazed look about him, andhe waved them off with a vague "Merry Christmas." 

"He'll be all right," said Mr. Weasley quietly as we marched offonto the moor. "Sometimes, when a person's memory's modified, itmakes him a bit disorientated for a while . . . and that was a bigthing they had to make him forget." 

We heard urgent voices as they approached the spot where thePortkeys lay, and when we reached it, we found a great numberof witches and wizards gathered around Basil, the keeper of thePortkeys, all clamoring to get away from the campsite as quickly aspossible. Mr. Weasley had a hurried discussion with Basil; we joined the queue, and were able to take an old rubber tire backto Stoatshead Hill before the sun had really risen. We walked back through Ottery St. Catchpole and up the damp lane towardthe Burrow in the dawn light, talking very little because we wereso exhausted, and thinking longingly of our breakfast. 

As we rounded the corner and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoedalong the lane."Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!"Mrs. Weasley, who had evidently been waiting for us in thefront yard, came running toward them, still wearing her bedroomslippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled-up copy of the DailyProphet clutched in her hand. 

"Arthur — I've been so worried — so worried —" 

She flung her arms around Mr. Weasley's neck, and the DailyProphet fell out of her limp hand onto the ground. Looking down, I saw the headline: SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP, complete with a twinkling black-andwhite photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops. 

"You're all right," Mrs. Weasley muttered distractedly, releasingMr. Weasley and staring around at us all with red eyes, "you'realive. . . . Oh boys . . ." 

And to everybody's surprise, she seized Fred and George andpulled them both into such a tight hug that their heads bangedtogether.

 "Ouch! Mum — you're strangling us —" 

"I shouted at you before you left!" Mrs. Weasley said, starting tosob. "It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who hadgot you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't getenough O.W.L.s? Oh Fred . . . George . . ."

 "Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," said Mr.Weasley soothingly, prising her off the twins and leading her back toward the house. "Bill," he added in an undertone, "pick up thatpaper, I want to see what it says. . . ." 

When we were all crammed into the tiny kitchen, andHermione had made Mrs. Weasley a cup of very strong tea, intowhich Mr. Weasley insisted on pouring a shot of Ogdens OldFirewhiskey, Bill handed his father the newspaper. Mr. Weasleyscanned the front page while Percy looked over his shoulder.

 "I knew it," said Mr. Weasley heavily. "Ministry blunders . . . culprits not apprehended . . . lax security . . . Dark wizards runningunchecked . . . national disgrace . . . Who wrote this? Ah . . . ofcourse . . . Rita Skeeter." 

"That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic!" said Percyfuriously. "Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping outvampires! As if it wasn't specifically stated in paragraph twelve of theGuidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans —" 

"Do us a favor, Perce," said Bill, yawning, "and shut up." 

"I'm mentioned," said Mr. Weasley, his eyes widening behindhis glasses as he reached the bottom of the Daily Prophet article."Where?" spluttered Mrs. Weasley, choking on her tea andwhiskey. "If I'd seen that, I'd have known you were alive!" 

"Not by name," said Mr. Weasley. "Listen to this: 'If the terrifiedwizards and witches who waited breathlessly for news at the edge of thewood expected reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sadlydisappointed. A Ministry official emerged some time after the appearance of the Dark Mark alleging that nobody had been hurt, but refusing to give any more information. Whether this statement will beenough to quash the rumors that several bodies were removed from thewoods an hour later, remains to be seen.' Oh really," said Mr. Weasley in exasperation, handing the paper to Percy. "Nobody was hurt.What was I supposed to say? Rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods . . . well, there certainly will be rumors nowshe's printed that." 

He heaved a deep sigh. "Molly, I'm going to have to go into theoffice; this is going to take some smoothing over." 

"I'll come with you, Father," said Percy importantly. "Mr.Crouch will need all hands on deck. And I can give him my cauldron report in person."He bustled out of the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley looked most upset.

 "Arthur, you're supposed to be on holiday! This hasn't got anything to do with your office; surely they can handle this withoutyou?"

 "I've got to go, Molly," said Mr. Weasley. "I've made thingsworse. I'll just change into my robes and I'll be off. . . ."

 "Mrs. Weasley," said Harry suddenly, unable to contain himself,"Hedwig hasn't arrived with a letter for me, has she?" 

I froze.

"Hedwig, dear?" said Mrs. Weasley distractedly. "No . . . no,there hasn't been any post at all."Ron and Hermione looked curiously at Harry and me. With a meaningful look at both of them harry said, "All right if I go and dump mystuff in your room, Ron?"

 "Yeah . . . think I will too," said Ron at once. "Emma?Hermione?"

 "Yes," she said quickly, I nodded and the four of us marched out of thekitchen and up the stairs."What's up, Harry, Emma?" said Ron, the moment we had closed thedoor of the attic room behind us.

 "There's something we haven't told you," Harry said. "On Saturday morning, we woke up with our scars hurting again."

Hermionegasped and started making suggestions at once, mentioning anumber of reference books, and everybody from Albus Dumbledore to Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse. Ron simply lookeddumbstruck. 

"But — he wasn't there, was he? You-Know-Who? I mean —last time your scar kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn't he?"

 "we're sure he wasn't on Privet Drive, you idiot" I said. "But we were dreaming about him . . . him and Peter — you know, Wormtail. Ican't remember all of it now, but they were plotting to kill . . .someone." 

I had teetered for a moment on the verge of saying "us," butcouldn't bring myself to make Hermione look any more horrifiedthan she already did.

 "It was only a dream," said Ron bracingly. "Just a nightmare."

 "Yeah, but was it, though?" said Harry, turning to look out ofthe window at the brightening sky. "It's weird, isn't it? . . . our scars hurt, and three days later the Death Eaters are on the march, andVoldemort's sign's up in the sky again." 

"Don't — say — his — name!" Ron hissed through grittedteeth.

 "And remember what Professor Trelawney said?" I went on,ignoring Ron. "At the end of last year?" 

Professor Trelawney was their- Ron and Harry's-- Divination teacher at Hogwarts.Hermione's terrified look vanished as she let out a derisive snort. 

"Oh Emma, you aren't going to pay attention to anything thatold fraud says?" 

"You weren't there," I said. "You didn't hear her. This time was different. We told you, she went into a trance — a real one. Andshe said the Dark Lord would rise again . . . greater and more terrible than ever before . . . and he'd manage it because his servant wasgoing to go back to him . . . and that night Wormtail escaped." 

There was a silence in which Ron fidgeted absentmindedly witha hole in his Chudley Cannons bedspread.

 "Why were you asking if Hedwig had come, Harry?" Hermioneasked. "Are you expecting a letter?" 

"we told Sirius about our scars," said Harry, shrugging. "we're waiting for his answer." 

"Good thinking!" said Ron, his expression clearing. "I bet Sirius'll know what to do!"

 "we hoped he'd get back to us quickly," said Harry."

But we don't know where Sirius is . . . he could be in Africa orsomewhere, couldn't he? Remember those birds?"I said reasonably. "Hedwig'snot going to manage that journey in a few days." 

"Yeah, I know," said Harry, but there was a leaden feeling in hisstomach as he looked out of the window at the Hedwig-free sky."Come and have a game of Quidditch in the orchard, Harry,"said Ron. "Come on — three on three, Bill and Charlie and Fredand George will play. . . . You can try out the Wronski Feint. . . ."

 "Ron," said Hermione, in an I-don't-think-you're-being-verysensitive sort of voice, "Harry doesn't want to play Quidditch rightnow. . . . He's worried, and he's tired. . . . We all need to go tobed. . . ." 

"Yeah, I want to play Quidditch," said Harry suddenly. "Hangon, I'll get my Firebolt." 

Hermione left the room, muttering something that soundedvery much like "Boys." I smiled tiredly.

"Well...bye then."

Neither Mr. Weasley nor Percy was at home much over the following week. Both left the house each morning before the rest of thefamily got up, and returned well after dinner every night. 

"It's been an absolute uproar," Percy told them importantly theSunday evening before we were due to return to Hogwarts. "I'vebeen putting out fires all week. People keep sending Howlers, andof course, if you don't open a Howler straight away, it explodes.Scorch marks all over my desk and my best quill reduced tocinders."

 "Why are they all sending Howlers?" asked Ginny, who wasmending her copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi withSpellotape on the rug in front of the living room fire. I was beside her flipping through my new athrimancy book.

 "Complaining about security at the World Cup," said Percy."They want compensation for their ruined property. MundungusFletcher's put in a claim for a twelve-bedroomed tent with en-suiteJacuzzi, but I've got his number. I know for a fact he was sleepingunder a cloak propped on sticks." 

Mrs. Weasley glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. I quite liked this clock. It was completely useless if you wanted toknow the time, but otherwise very informative. It had nine goldenhands, and each of them was engraved with one of the Weasleyfamily's names. There were no numerals around the face, but descriptions of where each family member might be. "Home,""school," and "work" were there, but there was also "traveling,""lost," "hospital," "prison," and, in the position where the numbertwelve would be on a normal clock, "mortal peril."

 Eight of the hands were currently pointing to the "home" position, but Mr. Weasley's, which was the longest, was still pointing to "work." Mrs. Weasley sighed."Your father hasn't had to go into the office on weekends sincethe days of You-Know-Who," she said. "They're working him fartoo hard. His dinner's going to be ruined if he doesn't come homesoon."

 "Well, Father feels he's got to make up for his mistake at thematch, doesn't he?" said Percy. "If truth be told, he was a tad unwise to make a public statement without clearing it with his Headof Department first —"

 "Don't you dare blame your father for what that wretchedSkeeter woman wrote!" said Mrs. Weasley, flaring up at once.

 "If Dad hadn't said anything, old Rita would just have said it wasdisgraceful that nobody from the Ministry had commented," saidBill, who was playing chess with Ron. "Rita Skeeter never makesanyone look good. Remember, she interviewed all the Gringotts'Charm Breakers once, and called me 'a long-haired pillock'?" 

"Well, it is a bit long, dear," said Mrs. Weasley gently. "If you'djust let me —" 

"No, Mum." 

Rain lashed against the living room window. Hermione was immersed in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, copies of which Mrs.Weasley had bought for her,me,  Harry, and Ron in Diagon Alley.Charlie was darning a fireproof balaclava. Harry was polishing hisFirebolt, the broomstick servicing kit Hermione had given him forhis thirteenth birthday open at his feet. Fred and George were sitting in a far corner, quills out, talking in whispers, their heads bentover a piece of parchment

 "What are you two up to?" said Mrs. Weasley sharply, her eyeson the twins.

 "Homework," said Fred vaguely. 

"Don't be ridiculous, you're still on holiday," said Mrs. Weasley.

 "Yeah, we've left it a bit late," said George. 

"You're not by any chance writing out a new order form, areyou?" said Mrs. Weasley shrewdly. "You wouldn't be thinking of restarting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, by any chance?" 

"Now, Mum," said Fred, looking up at her, a pained look on hisface. "If the Hogwarts Express crashed tomorrow, and George andI died, how would you feel to know that the last thing we everheard from you was an unfounded accusation?" 

Everyone laughed, even Mrs. Weasley.

 "Oh your father's coming!" she said suddenly, looking up at theclock again.Mr. Weasley's hand had suddenly spun from "work" to "traveling"; a second later it had shuddered to a halt on "home" with theothers, and we heard him calling from the kitchen. 

"Coming, Arthur!" called Mrs. Weasley, hurrying out of theroom. A few moments later, Mr. Weasley came into the warm livingroom carrying his dinner on a tray. He looked completelyexhausted. 

"Well, the fat's really in the fire now," he told Mrs. Weasley as hesat down in an armchair near the hearth and toyed unenthusiastically with his somewhat shriveled cauliflower. "Rita Skeeter's beenferreting around all week, looking for more Ministry mess-ups toreport. And now she's found out about poor old Bertha going missing, so that'll be the headline in the Prophet tomorrow. I toldBagman he should have sent someone to look for her ages ago."

 "Mr. Crouch has been saying it for weeks and weeks," said Percyswiftly.

 "Crouch is very lucky Rita hasn't found out about Winky," saidMr. Weasley irritably. "There'd be a week's worth of headlines in hishouse-elf being caught holding the wand that conjured the DarkMark." 

"I thought we were all agreed that that elf, while irresponsible,did not conjure the Mark?" said Percy hotly. 

"If you ask me, Mr. Crouch is very lucky no one at the DailyProphet knows how mean he is to elves!" said Hermione angrily.

 "Now look here, Hermione!" said Percy. "A high-ranking Ministry official like Mr. Crouch deserves unswerving obedience fromhis servants —" 

"His slave, you mean!" said Hermione, her voice rising passionately, "because he didn't pay Winky, did he?" 

"I think you'd all better go upstairs and check that you've packedproperly!" said Mrs. Weasley, breaking up the argument. "Comeon now, all of you. . . ."

The rainsounded even louder at the top of the house, accompanied by loudwhistlings and moans from the wind, not to mention sporadichowls from the ghoul who lived in the attic.

"It's been over a week," I said, looking at Hedwig's desertedperch.  "Hermione, you don't reckon Sirius has been caught, do you?"

 "No, it would've been in the Daily Prophet," said Hermione. "TheMinistry would want to show they'd caught someone, wouldn'tthey?" 

"Girls" said Mrs Weasly poking her head in as she and Ginny joined us "your list said "gown" but I figured you'd want to go shopping?"

"Yes, Mrs Weasly" I said "but what on earth do we need a gown for?"

Mrs Weasly just smiled.

---

There was a definite end-of-the-holidays gloom in the airwhen I awoke next morning. Heavy rain was still splattering against the window as I got dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt; they would change into our school robes on the HogwartsExpress.Me, Hermione, and Ginny had just reached the first-floor landing on our way down to breakfast, when Mrs. Weasley appearedat the foot of the stairs, looking harassed."

Arthur!" she called up the staircase. "Arthur! Urgent messagefrom the Ministry!" 

Ginny flattened herself against the wall as Mr. Weasley cameclattering past with his robes on back-to-front and hurtled out ofsight. When I and the others entered the kitchen, we sawMrs. Weasley rummaging anxiously in the drawers — "I've got aquill here somewhere!" — and Mr. Weasley bending over the fire,talking to —

I shut my eyes hard and opened them again to make surethat they were working properly. 

Amos Diggory's head was sitting in the middle of the flames likea large, bearded egg. It was talking very fast, completely unperturbed by the sparks flying around it and the flames licking its ears. 

". . . Muggle neighbors heard bangs and shouting, so they wentand called those what-d'you-call-'ems — please-men. Arthur,you've got to get over there —" 

"Here!" said Mrs. Weasley breathlessly, pushing a piece of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a crumpled quill into Mr. Weasley'shands. 

"— it's a real stroke of luck I heard about it," said Mr. Diggory'shead. "I had to come into the office early to send a couple of owls,and I found the Improper Use of Magic lot all setting off — if RitaSkeeter gets hold of this one, Arthur —" 

"What does Mad-Eye say happened?" asked Mr. Weasley, unscrewing the ink bottle, loading up his quill, and preparing to takenotes.Mr. Diggory's head rolled its eyes. 

"Says he heard an intruder inhis yard. Says he was creeping toward the house, but was ambushedby his dustbins." 

"What did the dustbins do?" asked Mr. Weasley, scribblingfrantically. 

"Made one hell of a noise and fired rubbish everywhere, as far asI can tell," said Mr. Diggory. "Apparently one of them was stillrocketing around when the please-men turned up —" 

Mr. Weasley groaned. 

"And what about the intruder?" 

"Arthur, you know Mad-Eye," said Mr. Diggory's head, rolling its eyes again. "Someone creeping into his yard in the dead ofnight? More likely there's a very shell-shocked cat wanderingaround somewhere, covered in potato peelings. But if the ImproperUse of Magic lot get their hands on Mad-Eye, he's had it — thinkof his record — we've got to get him off on a minor charge, something in your department — what are exploding dustbins worth?" 

"Might be a caution," said Mr. Weasley, still writing very fast, hisbrow furrowed. "Mad-Eye didn't use his wand? He didn't actuallyattack anyone?" 

"I'll bet he leapt out of bed and started jinxing everything hecould reach through the window," said Mr. Diggory, "but they'llhave a job proving it, there aren't any casualties." 

"All right, I'm off," Mr. Weasley said, and he stuffed the parchment with his notes on it into his pocket and dashed out of thekitchen again.Mr. Diggory's head looked around at Mrs. Weasley. 

"Sorry about this, Molly," it said, more calmly, "bothering you soearly and everything . . . but Arthur's the only one who can getMad-Eye off, and Mad-Eye's supposed to be starting his new jobtoday. Why he had to choose last night . . ." 

"Never mind, Amos," said Mrs. Weasley. "Sure you won't have abit of toast or anything before you go?" 

"Oh go on, then," said Mr. Diggory.Mrs. Weasley took a piece of buttered toast from a stack on thekitchen table, put it into the fire tongs, and transferred it into Mr.Diggory's mouth."Fanks," he said in a muffled voice, and then, with a small pop,vanished. I could hear Mr. Weasley calling hurried good-byes to Bill, Charlie, Percy, and the boys. Within five minutes, he was back inthe kitchen, his robes on the right way now, dragging a combthrough his hair."I'd better hurry — you have a good term, girls" said Mr.Weasley to Ginny, Mione, and me fastening a cloak over hisshoulders and preparing to Disapparate. 

"Molly, are you going to beall right taking the kids to King's Cross?" 

"Of course I will," she said. "You just look after Mad-Eye, we'llbe fine." 

As Mr. Weasley vanished, Bill and Charlie entered the kitchen. Followed by the boys

"Did someone say Mad-Eye?" Bill asked. "What's he been up tonow? 

"He says someone tried to break into his house last night," saidMrs. Weasley. 

"Mad-Eye Moody?" said George thoughtfully, spreading marmalade on his toast. "Isn't he that nutter —" 

"Your father thinks very highly of Mad-Eye Moody," said Mrs.Weasley sternly. 

"Yeah, well, Dad collects plugs, doesn't he?" said Fred quietly asMrs. Weasley left the room. "Birds of a feather . . ." 

"Moody was a great wizard in his time," said Bill. 

"He's an old friend of Dumbledore's, isn't he?" said Charlie. 

"Dumbledore's not what you'd call normal, though, is he?" saidFred. "I mean, I know he's a genius and everything . . ." 

"Who is Mad-Eye?" asked Harry. 

"He's retired, used to work at the Ministry," said Charlie. "I methim once when Dad took me into work with him. He was anAuror — one of the best . . . a Dark wizard catcher," he added, seeing Harry's blank look. "Half the cells in Azkaban are full because of him."

"Wicked" I whispered.

Bill and Charlie decided to come and see everyone off at King'sCross station, but Percy, apologizing most profusely, said that hereally needed to get to work. 

"I just can't justify taking more time off at the moment," he toldus. "Mr. Crouch is really starting to rely on me." 

"Yeah, you know what, Percy?" said George seriously. "I reckonhe'll know your name soon." 

Mrs. Weasley had braved the telephone in the village post officeto order three ordinary Muggle taxis to take them into London."Arthur tried to borrow Ministry cars for us," Mrs. Weasleywhispered to me as they stood in the rain-washed yard, watching the taxi drivers heaving six heavy Hogwarts trunks into theircars. "But there weren't any to spare. . . . Oh dear, they don't lookhappy, do they?" 

I didn't like to tell Mrs. Weasley that Muggle taxi driversrarely transported overexcited owls, and Pigwidgeon was makingan earsplitting racket. Nor did it help that a number of Filibuster'sFabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks went off unexpectedlywhen Fred's trunk sprang open, causing the driver carrying it toyell with fright and pain as Crookshanks clawed his way up theman's leg. 

The journey was uncomfortable, owing to the fact that wewere jammed in the back of the taxis with our trunks. Crookshanks took quite a while to recover from the fireworks, and by thetime we entered London, Me, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all severely scratched. We were very relieved to get out at King'sCross, even though the rain was coming down harder than ever,and we got soaked carrying their trunks across the busy road andinto the station. 

I was used to getting onto platform nine and three-quartersby now. It was a simple matter of walking straight through the apparently solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten. The onlytricky part was doing this in an unobtrusive way, so as to avoid attracting Muggle attention. We did it in groups today; Me, Harry, Ron,and Hermione (the most conspicuous, since they were accompanied by Pigwidgeon and Crookshanks) went first; we leaned casually against the barrier, chatting unconcernedly, and slid sidewaysthrough it . . . and as we did so, platform nine and three-quartersmaterialized in front of us. 

The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam engine, was already there, clouds of steam billowing from it, through which themany Hogwarts students and parents on the platform appearedlike dark ghosts. Pigwidgeon became noisier than ever in responseto the hooting of many owls through the mist. Harry, Ron, andHermione set off to find seats, I bid them goodbye. 

"Where are you going?" asked Harry.

"To find Draco, Nicholas and Zoe. Oh stop it hermione." Hermione had given me a quick smirk.

I eventually found them, and when Zoe finally let go of me I was soon stowing my luggagein a compartment halfway along the train. I then hopped backdown onto the platform to say good-bye to Mrs. Weasley, Bill, andCharlie. 

"I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," said Charlie,grinning, as he hugged Ginny good-bye. 

"Why?" said Fred keenly. 

"You'll see," said Charlie. "Just don't tell Percy I mentionedit . . . it's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministrysees fit to release it,' after all."

"Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," said Bill,hands in his pockets, looking almost wistfully at the train. 

"Why?" said George impatiently."You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill, his eyestwinkling. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit ofit. . . ." 

"A bit of what?" said Ron. 

But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Mrs. Weasleychivvied us toward the train doors. 

"Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione aswe climbed on board, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to talk to her. 

"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry. 

"It means a lot" I add.

"Oh it was my pleasure, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'd inviteyou for Christmas, but . . . well, I expect you're all going to want tostay at Hogwarts, what with . . . one thing and another." 

"Mum!" said Ron irritably. "What d'you three know that wedon't?" 

"You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "It's going to be very exciting — mind you, I'm very gladthey've changed the rules —""What rules?" said Harry, Ron, Fred, and George together."I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you. . . . Now, behave,won't you? Won't you, Fred? And you, George?" 

The pistons hissed loudly and the train began to move."Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!" Fred bellowed out ofthe window as Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie sped away fromthem. "What rules are they changing?" 

But Mrs. Weasley only smiled and waved. Before the train hadrounded the corner, she, Bill, and Charlie had Disapparated. 

I made way to my compartment. "What's happening at Hogwarts I asked Draco and Nicholas immediately. Their parents were well connected with the ministry. Zoe raised her eyebrows curiously. Draco and Nicholas shared a quick grin. "Oh, heard about that have you?" said Nicholas

"Yes" I said impatiently "but what is it?"

"Now Ems" said Nicholas causally leaning back and grinning at me "you wouldn't want to ruin the surprise?"

"All we'll tell you is that it involves Beauboxtan and Dumstrang." Added Draco. 

"Durmstrang's another wizarding school?" said Zoe.

"Yeah" said Nicholas ", it puts alot of emphasis on the Dark Arts." 

"I think I've heard of it," said Zoe vaguely. "Where is it? Whatcountry?" 

"Well, nobody knows, do they?" said Draco raising hiseyebrows. 

"Er — why not?" said Zoe. 

"There's traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magicschools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets," I said matter-offactly. 

"Come off it," said Zoe, starting to laugh. "Durmstrang's got tobe about the same size as Hogwarts — how are you going to hide agreat big castle?" 

"But Hogwarts is hidden," I said, in surprise. "Everyone knows that . . . well, everyone who's read Hogwarts, A History,anyway." 

"Just you, then," said Zoe. "So go on — how d'you hide a placelike Hogwarts?" 

"It's bewitched," I said. "If a Muggle looks at it, all theysee is a moldering old ruin with a sign over the entrance sayingdanger, do not enter, unsafe."

 "So Durmstrang'll just look like a ruin to an outsider too?" 

"Maybe," said Nicholas, shrugging, "or it might have Mugglerepelling charms on it, like the World Cup stadium. And to keep foreign wizards from finding it, they'll have made it Unplottable —" 

"Come again?"

"Well, you can enchant a building so it's impossible to plot on amap, can't you?" 

"Er . . . if you say so," said Zoe. 

"But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north,"said Nicholas thoughtfully. "Somewhere very cold, becausethey've got fur capes as part of their uniforms." 

"Ah, think of the possibilities," said Zoe dreamily. "It would'vebeen so easy to push Malfoy off a glacier and make it look like anaccident. . . . Shame your mum likes you. . . ." 

"Zip it Anderson."

The rain became heavier and heavier as the train moved farthernorth. The sky was so dark and the windows so steamy that thelanterns were lit by midday. The lunch trolley came rattling alongthe corridor, and Draco bought a large stack of Cauldron Cakes forus to share. 

Laughing and sharing stories of the summer. 

We didn'ttalk much as we changed into our school robes,  when the Hogwarts Express slowed down at last and finally stopped in the pitch-darkness of Hogsmeade station. 

As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder overhead.we left the train, headsbent and eyes narrowed against the downpour. The rain was nowcoming down so thick and fast that it was as though buckets of icecold water were being emptied repeatedly over our heads. 

"Hi, Hagrid!" I yelled, seeing a gigantic silhouette at the farend of the platform. 

"All righ', Emma?" Hagrid bellowed back, waving. "See yeh atthe feast if we don' drown!" 

First years traditionally reached Hogwarts Castle by sailingacross the lake with Hagrid." I wouldn't fancy crossing the lake in this weather," saidNicholas fervently, shivering as we inched slowly along the darkplatform with the rest of the crowd. 

A hundred horseless carriagesstood waiting for them outside the station. Draco, Zoe, Nicholas,and I climbed gratefully into one of them, the door shutwith a snap, and a few moments later, with a great lurch, the longprocession of carriages was rumbling and splashing its way up thetrack toward Hogwarts Castle.