Harry Potter 03 - Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Tower with a knife – without Pettigrew, alive or dead, we have no chance of overturning Sirius’ sentence.’
    ‘But you believe us.’
    ‘Yes, I do,’ said Dumbledore quietly. ‘But I have no power to make other men see the truth, or to overrule the Minister for Magic …’
    Harry stared up into the grave face and felt as though the ground beneath him was falling sharply away. He had grown used to the idea that Dumbledore could solve anything. He had expected Dumbledore to pull some amazing solution out of the air. But no … their last hope was gone.
    ‘What we need,’ said Dumbledore slowly, and his light-blue eyes moved from Harry to Hermione, ‘is more time .’
    ‘But –’ Hermione began. And then her eyes became very round. ‘OH!’
    ‘Now, pay attention,’ said Dumbledore, speaking very low, and very clearly. ‘Sirius is locked in Professor Flitwick’s office on the seventh floor. Thirteenth window from the right of the West Tower. If all goes well, you will be able to save more than one innocent life tonight. But remember this, both of you. You must not be seen . Miss Granger, you know the law – you know what is at stake … you – must – not – be – seen .’
    Harry didn’t have a clue what was going on. Dumbledore had turned on his heel and looked back as he reached the door.
    ‘I am going to lock you in. It is –’ he consulted his watch, ‘five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck.’
    ‘Good luck?’ Harry repeated, as the door closed behind Dumbledore. ‘Three turns? What’s he talking about? What are we supposed to do?’
    But Hermione was fumbling with the neck of her robes, pulling from beneath them a very long, very fine gold chain.
    ‘Harry, come here,’ she said urgently. ‘Quick!’
    Harry moved towards her, completely bewildered. She was holding the chain out. He saw a tiny, sparkling hour-glass hanging from it.
    ‘Here –’
    She had thrown the chain around his neck, too.
    ‘Ready?’ she said breathlessly.
    ‘What are we doing?’ Harry said, completely lost.
    Hermione turned the hour-glass over three times.
    The dark ward dissolved. Harry had the sensation that he was flying, very fast, backwards. A blur of colours and shapes rushed past him; his ears were pounding. He tried to yell but couldn’t hear his own voice –
    And then he felt solid ground beneath his feet, and everything came into focus again –
    He was standing next to Hermione in the deserted Entrance Hall and a stream of golden sunlight was falling across the paved floor from the open front doors. He looked wildly around at Hermione, the chain of the hour-glass cutting into his neck.
    ‘Hermione, what –?’
    ‘In here!’ Hermione seized Harry’s arm and dragged him across the hall to the door of a broom cupboard; she opened it, pushed him inside amongst the buckets and mops, followed him in, then slammed the door behind them.
    ‘What – how – Hermione, what happened?’
    ‘We’ve gone back in time,’ Hermione whispered, lifting the chain off Harry’s neck in the darkness. ‘Three hours back …’
    Harry found his own leg and gave it a very hard pinch. It hurt a lot, which seemed to rule out the possibility that he was having a very bizarre dream.
    ‘But –’
    ‘Shh! Listen! Someone’s coming! I think – I think it might be us!’
    Hermione had her ear pressed against the cupboard door.
    ‘Footsteps across the hall … yes, I think it’s us going down to Hagrid’s!’
    ‘Are you telling me,’ Harry whispered, ‘that we’re here in this cupboard and we’re out there, too?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Hermione, her ear still glued to the cupboard door. ‘I’m sure it’s us … it doesn’t sound like more than three people … and we’re walking slowly because we’re under the Invisibility Cloak –’
    She broke off, still listening intently.
    ‘We’ve gone down the front steps …’
    Hermione sat down on an upturned bucket; looking desperately anxious, Harry wanted a few questions answered.
    ‘Where did you get that hourglass thing?’
    ‘It’s called a Time-Turner,’ Hermione whispered, ‘and I got it from Professor McGonagall on our first day back. I’ve been using it all year to get to all my lessons. Professor McGonagall made me swear I wouldn’t tell anyone. She had to write all sorts of letters to the Ministry of Magic so I could have one. She had to tell them that I was a model student, and that I’d never,