Harry Potter 03 - Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

whistling was filling the room. The Pocket Sneakoscope had become dislodged from Uncle Vernon’s old socks and was whirling and gleaming on the floor.
    ‘I forgot about that!’ Harry said, bending down and picking up the Sneakoscope. ‘I never wear those socks if I can help it …’
    The Sneakoscope whirled and whistled in his palm. Crookshanks was hissing and spitting at it.
    ‘You’d better take that cat out of here, Hermione,’ said Ron furiously; he was sitting on Harry’s bed nursing his toe. ‘Can’t you shut that thing up?’ he added to Harry, as Hermione strode out of the room, Crookshanks’s yellow eyes still fixed maliciously on Ron.
    Harry stuffed the Sneakoscope back inside the socks and threw it back into his trunk. All that could be heard now was Ron’s stifled moans of pain and rage. Scabbers was huddled in Ron’s hands. It had been a while since Harry had seen him out of Ron’s pocket, and he was unpleasantly surprised to see that Scabbers, once so fat, was now very skinny; patches of fur seemed to have fallen out, too.
    ‘He’s not looking too good, is he?’ Harry said.
    ‘It’s stress!’ said Ron. ‘He’d be fine if that stupid great furball left him alone!’
    But Harry, remembering what the woman at the Magical Menagerie had said about rats only living three years, couldn’t help feeling that unless Scabbers had powers he had never revealed, he was reaching the end of his life. And despite Ron’s frequent complaints that Scabbers was both boring and useless, he was sure Ron would be very miserable if Scabbers died.
    Christmas spirit was definitely thin on the ground in the Gryffindor common room that morning. Hermione had shut Crookshanks in her dormitory, but was furious with Ron for trying to kick him; Ron was still fuming about Crookshanks’s fresh attempt to eat Scabbers. Harry gave up trying to make them talk to each other, and devoted himself to examining the Firebolt, which he had brought down to the common room with him. For some reason this seemed to annoy Hermione as well; she didn’t say anything, but she kept looking darkly at the broom as though it, too, had been criticising her cat.
    At lunchtime they went down to the Great Hall, to find that the house tables had been moved against the walls again, and that a single table, set for twelve, stood in the middle of the room. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout and Flitwick were there, along with Filch, the caretaker, who had taken off his usual brown coat and was wearing a very old and rather mouldy-looking tail coat. There were only three other students: two extremely nervous-looking first-years and a sullen-faced Slytherin fifth-year.
    ‘Merry Christmas!’ said Dumbledore, as Harry, Ron and Hermione approached the table. ‘As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the house tables … sit down, sit down!’
    Harry, Ron and Hermione sat down side by side at the end of the table.
    ‘Crackers!’ said Dumbledore enthusiastically, offering the end of a large silver one to Snape, who took it reluctantly and tugged. With a bang like a gunshot, the cracker flew apart to reveal a large, pointed witch’s hat topped with a stuffed vulture.
    Harry, remembering the Boggart, caught Ron’s eye and they both grinned; Snape’s mouth thinned and he pushed the hat towards Dumbledore, who swapped it for his wizard’s hat at once.
    ‘Tuck in!’ he advised the table, beaming around.
    As Harry was helping himself to roast potatoes, the doors of the Great Hall opened again. It was Professor Trelawney, gliding towards them as though on wheels. She had put on a green sequined dress in honour of the occasion, making her look more than ever like a glittering, oversize dragonfly.
    ‘Sybill, this is a pleasant surprise!’ said Dumbledore, standing up.
    ‘I have been crystal-gazing, Headmaster,’ said Professor Trelawney, in her mistiest, most faraway voice, ‘and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness …’
    ‘Certainly, certainly,’ said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. ‘Let me draw you up a chair –’
    And he did indeed draw a chair in mid-air with his wand, which revolved for a few seconds before falling with a thud between Professors Snape and McGonagall. Professor Trelawney, however, did not sit down; her enormous eyes had