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"We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please ... Riddikulus!"

"No! Well... I wasn't supposed to be using Errol. You know he's not really up to long journeys... but how else was I supposed to get Harry's present to him?"

"Right, Neville," said Professor Lupin. "First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?"

"Yeah... mind you, it's a very cheap one," Ron said. "It went haywire just as I was tying it to Errol's leg to send it to Harry."

"It's my rat," he told the witch. "He been a bit off-color ever since I brought him back from Egypt."

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"So that's why you're putting it on," said Harry, accidentally beheading a dead caterpillar because his hand was shaking in anger. "To try to get Hagrid fired."

"It was Malfoy's fault!" snapped Dean Thomas. Crabbe and Goyle flexed their muscles threateningly.

In a moment, they had fallen sideways through the solid metal onto platform nine and three- quarters and looked up to see the Hogwarts Express, a scarlet steam engine, puffing smoke over a platform packed with witches and wizards seeing their children onto the train.

"Scabbers!" Ron shouted, racing out of the shop after him; Harry followed.

"Good man, Harry!" roared Hagrid. "Right then -- let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."

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"How thick would Harry have to be, to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him?" said Ron shakily.

"It was here, on the bedside table, I took it off for polishing

"Yeah, we'll call you," muttered Ron as the knight disappeared, "if we ever need someone mental."

Oliver Wood was a burly seventeen-year-old, now in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts. There was a quiet sort of desperation in his voice a's he addressed his six fellow team members in the chilly locker rooms on the edge of the darkening Quidditch field.

I thought that was a bowler hat," said Ron sheepishly.

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"Now, now, I'm sure you'll feel differently once you've calmed down," said Fudge in a worried tone. "They are your family, after all, and I'm sure you are fond of each other -- er -- very deep down."

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There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with Professor Lupin clapped hard, Harry among them. Professor Lupin looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes.

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"Ron, don't hurt him!" squealed Hermione; the whole common room was watching; Ron whirled the bag around, Crookshanks still clinging to it, and Scabbers came flying out of the top -

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Hermione laughed. Harry felt a bit better. It was harder to feel scared of a lump of tea leaves away from the dim red light and befuddling perfume of Professor Trelawney's classroom. Not everyone was convinced, however. Ron still looked worried, and Lavender whispered, "But what about Neville's cup?",

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"There's nothing wrong with your arm," he hissed at Malfoy.;

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