Harry Potter 03 - Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Hermione suddenly, peering over his shoulder. ‘What’s that thing outside your window?’
    Harry turned to look outside. Something very small and grey was bobbing in and out of sight beyond the glass. He stood up for a better look and saw that it was a tiny owl, carrying a letter which was much too big for it. The owl was so small, in fact, that it kept tumbling over in the air, buffeted this way and that in the train’s slipstream. Harry quickly pulled down the window, stretched out his arm and caught it. It felt like a very fluffy Snitch. He brought it carefully inside. The owl dropped its letter onto Harry’s seat and began zooming around their compartment, apparently very pleased with itself for accomplishing its task. Hedwig clicked her beak with a sort of dignified disapproval. Crookshanks sat up in his seat, following the owl with his great yellow eyes. Ron, noticing this, snatched the owl safely out of harm’s way.
    Harry picked up the letter. It was addressed to him. He ripped open the letter and shouted, ‘It’s from Sirius!’
    ‘What?’ said Ron and Hermione excitedly. ‘Read it aloud!’
     
    Dear Harry,
    I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle. I don’t know whether they’re used to owl post.
    Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I won’t tell you where, in case this falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubt about the owl’s reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job.
    I believe the Dementors are still searching for me, but they haven’t a hope of finding me here. I am planning to allow some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security on the castle will be lifted.
    There is something I never got round to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt –
     
    ‘Ha!’ said Hermione triumphantly. ‘See! I told you it was from him!’
    ‘Yes, but he hadn’t jinxed it, had he?’ said Ron. ‘Ouch!’
    The tiny owl, now hooting happily in his hand, had nibbled one of his fingers in what it seemed to think was an affectionate way.
     
    Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I used your name but told them to take the gold from Gringotts vault number seven hundred and eleven – my own. Please consider it as thirteen birthdays’ worth of presents from your godfather.
    I would also like to apologise for the fright I think I gave you, that night last year when you left your uncle’s house. I had only hoped to get a glimpse of you before starting my journey north, but I think the sight of me alarmed you.
    I am enclosing something else for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable.
    If ever you need me, send word. Your owl will find me.
    I’ll write again soon.
    Sirius
     
    Harry looked eagerly inside the envelope. There was another piece of parchment in there. He read it through quickly and felt suddenly as warm and contented as though he’d swallowed a bottle of hot Butterbeer in one go.
     
    I, Sirius Black, Harry Potter’s godfather, hereby give him permission to visit Hogsmeade at weekends.
     
    ‘That’ll be good enough for Dumbledore!’ said Harry happily. He looked back at Sirius’ letter.
    ‘Hang on, there’s a PS …
    I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it’s my fault he no longer has a rat.
    Ron’s eyes widened. The minute owl was still hooting excitedly.
    ‘Keep him?’ he said uncertainly. He looked closely at the owl for a moment, then, to Harry and Hermione’s great surprise, he held him out for Crookshanks to sniff.
    ‘What d’you reckon?’ Ron asked the cat. ‘Definitely an owl?’
    Crookshanks purred.
    ‘That’s good enough for me,’ said Ron happily. ‘He’s mine.’
    Harry read and re-read the letter from Sirius all the way back into King’s Cross station. It was still clutched tightly in his hand as he, Ron and Hermione stepped back through the barrier of platform nine and three-quarters. Harry spotted Uncle Vernon at once. He was standing a good distance from Mr and Mrs Weasley, eyeing them suspiciously, and when Mrs Weasley hugged Harry in greeting, his worst suspicions about them seemed confirmed.
    ‘I’ll call about the World Cup!’ Ron yelled after Harry, as Harry bid him and Hermione goodbye, then wheeled the trolley bearing his trunk and Hedwig’s cage towards Uncle Vernon, who greeted him in usual fashion.
    ‘What’s that?’ he snarled, staring at the envelope