Harry Potter 06 - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

following Saturday at breakfast.
    ‘We’ve got Quidditch tryouts this morning!’ said Ron. ‘ And we’re supposed to be practising that Aguamenti charm for Flitwick! Anyway, explain what? How are we going to tell him we hated his stupid subject?’
    ‘We didn’t hate it!’ said Hermione.
    ‘Speak for yourself, I haven’t forgotten the Skrewts,’ said Ron darkly. ‘And I’m telling you now, we’ve had a narrow escape. You didn’t hear him going on about his gormless brother – we’d have been teaching Grawp how to tie his shoelaces if we’d stayed.’
    ‘I hate not talking to Hagrid,’ said Hermione, looking upset.
    ‘We’ll go down after Quidditch,’ Harry assured her. He, too, was missing Hagrid, although like Ron he thought that they were better off without Grawp in their lives. ‘But trials might take all morning, the number of people who have applied.’ He felt slightly nervous at confronting the first hurdle of his captaincy. ‘I dunno why the team’s this popular all of a sudden.’
    ‘Oh, come on, Harry,’ said Hermione, suddenly impatient. ‘It’s not Quidditch that’s popular, it’s you! You’ve never been more interesting and, frankly, you’ve never been more fanciable.’
    Ron gagged on a large piece of kipper. Hermione spared him one look of disdain before turning back to Harry.
    ‘Everyone knows you’ve been telling the truth now, don’t they? The whole wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about Voldemort being back and that you really have fought him twice in the last two years and escaped both times. And now they’re calling you the “Chosen One” – well, come on, can’t you see why people are fascinated by you?’
    Harry was finding the Great Hall very hot all of a sudden, even though the ceiling still looked cold and rainy.
    ‘ And you’ve been through all that persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you were unstable and a liar. You can still see the marks where that evil woman made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your story anyway …’
    ‘You can still see where those brains got hold of me in the Ministry, look,’ said Ron, shaking back his sleeves.
    ‘And it doesn’t hurt that you’ve grown about a foot over the summer, either,’ Hermione finished, ignoring Ron.
    ‘I’m tall,’ said Ron inconsequentially.
    The post owls arrived, swooping down through rain-flecked windows, scattering everyone with droplets of water. Most people were receiving more post than usual; anxious parents were keen to hear from their children and to reassure them, in turn, that all was well at home. Harry had received no mail since the start of term; his only regular correspondent was now dead and although he had hoped that Lupin might write occasionally, he had so far been disappointed. He was very surprised, therefore, to see the snowy-white Hedwig circling amongst all the brown and grey owls. She landed in front of him carrying a large, square package. A moment later, an identical package landed in front of Ron, crushing beneath it his minuscule and exhausted owl, Pigwidgeon.
    ‘Ha!’ said Harry, unwrapping the parcel to reveal a new copy of Advanced Potion-Making , fresh from Flourish and Blotts.
    ‘Oh good,’ said Hermione, delighted. ‘Now you can give that graffitied copy back.’
    ‘Are you mad?’ said Harry. ‘I’m keeping it! Look, I’ve thought it out –’
    He pulled the old copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and tapped the cover with his wand, muttering, ‘Diffindo!’ The cover fell off. He did the same thing with the brand new book (Hermione looked scandalised). He then swapped the covers, tapped each and said, ‘Reparo!’
    There sat the Prince’s copy, disguised as a new book, and there sat the fresh copy from Flourish and Blotts, looking thoroughly second-hand.
    ‘I’ll give Slughorn back the new one. He can’t complain, it cost nine Galleons.’
    Hermione pressed her lips together, looking angry and disapproving, but was distracted by a third owl landing in front of her carrying that day’s copy of the Daily Prophet . She unfolded it hastily and scanned the front page.
    ‘Anyone we know dead?’ asked Ron in a determinedly casual voice; he posed the same question every time Hermione opened her paper.
    ‘No, but there have been more Dementor attacks,’ said Hermione. ‘And an arrest.’
    ‘Excellent, who?’ said Harry, thinking of Bellatrix Lestrange.
    ‘Stan