Discovery

63.

The very best thing you could say about the match was that it was short; Gryffindor only had to endure twenty-two minutes of agony. My favorite highlight was when one of our Reserve Beaters missed the Bludger and hit Angelina in the mouth with his bat.

The miracle was that Gryffindor only lost by ten points. Ginny managed to snatch the Snitch, making the final score two hundred and forty versus two hundred and thirty.

I walked back from the Quidditch Pitch with Fred and George, both of whom felt quite gloomy about the loss of the match. I couldn't blame them, of course. Watching Ron let all those goals in was painful.

"Can't believe Angelina won't let him resign," George sighed. "After fourteen missed goals, you think she would catch on."

"I might have to dye my hair," said Fred. "I don't want people to know we're related."

"Be nice!" I slapped both of their shoulders. "Ron just needs to be more confident in himself. He's got the skill, you'll see."

The twins glanced at each other, and then burst into laughter.

***

I walked with Fred, George, and Lee to the Great Hall on Monday morning for breakfast. The owls were just dropping off the post, and Moony perched on my shoulder with two letters tied to his leg.

"One from Mum, and one from Miranda." I sighed.

I knew it was silly to expect Sirius to write to me, especially with Umbridge in charge, but I still felt the same disappointment each time the post arrived.

As I was about to open my letter from Mum, dozens of owls swooped down and began dropping letters off in front of Harry.

"What's going on?" Ron asked in amazement, as the whole of Gryffindor table leaned forward to watch as another seven owls landed amongst the first ones, screeching, hooting, and flapping their wings.

"Harry!" said Hermione breathlessly, pulling out an owl from the bunch, "I think I know what this means — open this one first!"

Harry ripped off the brown packaging, which contained a copy of March's edition of The Quibbler. The cover was a large picture of Harry, and across his portrait in large red letters were the words:

HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST:
THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN

"It's good, isn't it?" said Luna, who had drifted over to the Gryffindor table and now squeezed herself onto the bench between Fred and I. "It came out yesterday, I asked Dad to send you a free copy. I expect all these," she waved a hand at the assembled owls still scrabbling around on the table in front of Harry, "are letters from readers."

"That's what I thought," said Hermione eagerly, "Harry, d'you mind if we — ?"

"Help yourself," said Harry, feeling slightly bemused.

Ron and Hermione both started ripping open envelopes. I couldn't restrain my curiosity, so I grabbed a couple envelopes for myself. Fred joined me with no hesitation.

"This one's from a bloke who thinks you're off your rocker," said Ron, glancing down his letter. "Ah well . . ."

"This woman recommends you try a good course of Shock Spells at St. Mungo's," said Hermione, looking disappointed and crumpling up a second.