Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban [32]
Overcome with emotion, he buried his face in his napkin, and Professor McGonagall shooed them away.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined the Gryffindors streaming up the marble staircase and, very tired now, along more corridors, UP more and more stairs, to the hidden entrance to Gryffindor Tower's large portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress asked them, "Password?"
"Coming through, coming through!" Percy called from behind the crowd. "The new password's 'Fortuna Major'!"
"Oh no," said Neville Longbottom sadly. He always had trouble remembering the passwords.
Through the portrait hole and across the common room, the girls and boys divided toward their separate staircases. Harry climbed the spiral stair with no thought in his head except how glad he was to be back. They reached their familiar, circular dormitory with its five four-poster beds, and Harry, looking around, felt he was home at last.
CHAPTER SIX: TALONS AND TEA LEAVES
When Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the first thing they saw was Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. As they passed, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter.
"Ignore him," said Hermione, who was right behind Harry. "Just ignore him, it's not worth it...."
"Hey, Potter!" shrieked Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl with a face like a pug. "Potter! The dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooooo!"
Harry dropped into a seat at the Gryffindor table, next to George Weasley.
"New third-year course schedules," said George, passing then, over. "What's up with you, Harry?"
"Malfoy," said Ron, sitting down on George's other side and glaring over at the Slytherin table.
George looked up in time to see Malfoy pretending to faint with terror again.
"That little git," he said calmly. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the dementors were down at our end of the train. Came runing into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"
"Nearly wet himself," said Fred, with a contemptuous glance at Malfoy.
"I wasn't too happy myself," said George. "They're horrible things, those dementors...."
"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" said Fred.
"You didn't pass out, though, did you?" said Harry in a low voice.
"Forget it, Harry," said George bracingly. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been, he came back all weak and shaking.... They suck the happiness out of a place, dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there."
"Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match," said Fred. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?"
The only time Harry and Malfoy had faced each other in a Quidditch match, Malfoy had definitely come off worse. Feeling slightly more cheerful, Harry helped himself to sausages and fried tomatoes.
Hermione was examining her new schedule.
" Ooh, good, we're starting some new subjects today," she said happily. villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands! Come I. scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!"
They watched in astonishment as the little knight tugged his sword out of its scabbard and began brandishing it violently, hopping up and down in rage. But the sword was too long for him; a particularly wild swing made him overbalance, and he landed facedown in the grass.
"Are you all right?" said Harry, moving closer to the picture.
"Get back, you scurvy braggart! Back, you rogue!"
The knight seized his sword again and used it to push himself back up, but the blade sank deeply into the grass and, though he pulled with all his might, he couldn't get it out again. Finally, he had to flop back down onto the grass and push up his visor