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Harry ate breakfast each morning in the Leaky Cauldron, where he liked watching the other guests: funny little witches from the country, up for a day's shopping; venerable-looking wizards arguing over the latest article in Transfiguration Today; wild-looking warlocks; raucous dwarfs; and once, what looked suspiciously like a hag, who ordered a plate of raw liver from behind a thick woolen balaclava.

¡°So!¡± said Snape, his long nostrils quivering. ¡°Is this another treasured gift from Mr. Weasley? Or is it ¡ª something else? A letter, perhaps, written in invisible ink? Or ¡ª instructions to get into Hogsmeade without passing the Dementors?¡±

¡°Where's Hermione?¡±

¡°I understand a lot better than you think,¡± said Harry, and his voice shook more than ever. ¡°You never heard her, did you? My mum¡­trying to stop Voldemort killing me¡­and you did that¡­you did it¡­.¡±

Malfoy's head jerked forward as the mud hit him; his silverblond hair was suddenly dripping in muck.


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