Mummy! What did they do to you?’
In all the kerfuffle nobody seemed to have noticed Harry, which suited him perfectly. He managed to slip inside just before Uncle Vernon slammed the door and, while the Dursleys made their noisy progress down the hall towards the kitchen, Harry moved carefully and quietly towards the stairs.
‘Who did it, son? Give us names. We’ll get them, don’t worry.’
‘Shh! He’s trying to say something, Vernon! What is it, Diddy? Tell Mummy!’
Harry’s foot was on the bottom-most stair when Dudley found his voice.
‘Him.’
Harry froze, foot on the stair, face screwed up, braced for the explosion.
‘BOY! COME HERE!’
With a feeling of mingled dread and anger, Harry removed his foot slowly from the stair and turned to follow the Dursleys.
The scrupulously clean kitchen had an oddly unreal glitter after the darkness outside. Aunt Petunia was ushering Dudley into a chair; he was still very green and clammy-looking. Uncle Vernon was standing in front of the draining board, glaring at Harry through tiny, narrowed eyes.
‘What have you done to my son?’ he said in a menacing growl.
‘Nothing,’ said Harry, knowing perfectly well that Uncle Vernon wouldn’t believe him.
‘What did he do to you, Diddy?’ Aunt Petunia said in a quavering voice, now sponging sick from the front of Dudley’s leather jacket. ‘Was it – was it you-know-what, darling? Did he use – his thing?’
Slowly, tremulously, Dudley nodded.
‘I didn’t!’ Harry said sharply, as Aunt Petunia let out a wail and Uncle Vernon raised his fists. ‘I didn’t do anything to him, it wasn’t me, it was —’
But at that precise moment a screech owl swooped in through the kitchen window. Narrowly missing the top of Uncle Vernon’s head, it soared across the kitchen, dropped the large parchment envelope it was carrying in its beak at Harry’s feet, turned gracefully, the tips of its wings just brushing the top of the fridge, then zoomed outside again and off across the garden.
‘OWLS!’ bellowed Uncle Vernon, the well-worn vein in his temple pulsing angrily as he slammed the kitchen window shut. ‘OWLS AGAIN! I WILL NOT HAVE ANY MORE OWLS IN MY HOUSE!’
But Harry was already ripping open the envelope and pulling out the letter inside, his heart pounding somewhere in the region of his Adam’s apple.
Dear Mr Potter,
We have received intelligence that you performed the Patronus Charm at twenty-three minutes past nine this evening in a Muggle inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle.
The severity of this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand.
As you have already received an official warning for a previous offence under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks’ Statute of Secrecy, we regret to inform you that your presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 a.m. on the twelfth of August.
Hoping you are well,
Yours sincerely,
Mafalda Hopkirk
Improper Use of Magic Office
Ministry of Magic
Harry read the letter through twice. He was only vaguely aware of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia talking. Inside his head, all was icy and numb. One fact had penetrated his consciousness like a paralysing dart. He was expelled from Hogwarts. It was all over. He was never going back.
He looked up at the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon was purple-faced, shouting, his fists still raised; Aunt Petunia had her arms around Dudley, who was retching again.
Harry’s temporarily stupefied brain seemed to reawaken. Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand. There was only one thing for it. He would have to run – now. Where he was going to go, Harry didn’t know, but he was certain of one thing: at Hogwarts or outside it, he needed his wand. In an almost dreamlike state, he pulled his wand out and turned to leave the kitchen.
‘Where d’you think you’re going?’ yelled Uncle Vernon. When Harry didn’t reply, he pounded across the kitchen to block the doorway into the hall. ‘I haven’t finished with you, boy!’
‘Get out of the way,’ said Harry quietly.
‘You’re going to stay here and explain how my son —’
‘If you don’t get out of the way I’m going to jinx you,’ said Harry, raising the wand.
‘You can’t pull that one on me!’ snarled Uncle Vernon. ‘I know you’re not allowed to use it outside that madhouse you call a school!’
‘The madhouse has chucked me out,’ said Harry. ‘So I can do whatever I like. You’ve got three seconds. One – two —’
A resounding CRACK filled the kitchen. Aunt Petunia screamed, Uncle Vernon yelled and ducked, but for the third time that night Harry was searching for the source of a disturbance he had not made. He spotted it at once: a dazed and ruffled-looking barn owl was sitting outside on the kitchen sill, having just collided with the closed window.
Ignoring Uncle Vernon’s anguished yell of ‘OWLS!’ Harry crossed the room at a run and wrenched the window open. The owl stuck out its leg, to which a small roll of parchment was tied, shook its feathers, and took off the moment Harry had taken the letter. Hands shaking, Harry unfurled the second message, which was written very hastily and blotchily in black ink.
Harry —
Dumbledore’s just arrived at the Ministry and he’s trying to sort it all out. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE’S HOUSE. DO NOT DO ANY MORE MAGIC. DO NOT SURRENDER YOUR WAND.
Arthur Weasley
Dumbledore was trying to sort it all out … what did that mean? How much power did Dumbledore have to override the Ministry of Magic? Was there a chance that he might be allowed back to Hogwarts, then? A small shoot of hope burgeoned in Harry’s chest, almost immediately strangled by panic – how was he supposed to refuse to surrender his wand without doing magic? He’d have to duel with the Ministry representatives, and if he did that, he’d be lucky to escape Azkaban, let alone expulsion.
His mind was racing … he could run for it and risk being captured by the Ministry, or stay put and wait for them to find him here. He was much more tempted by the former course, but he knew Mr Weasley had his best interests at heart … and after all, Dumbledore had sorted out much worse than this before.
‘Right,’ Harry said, ‘I’ve changed my mind, I’m staying.’
He flung himself down at the kitchen table and faced Dudley and Aunt Petunia. The Dursleys appeared taken aback at his abrupt change of mind. Aunt Petunia glanced despairingly
