Invisible (III)

FIVE

HARRY POTTER AND THE PRISONER OF AZKABAN
chapter five

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E M P T Y   S E A T

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"There's something moving out there."

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Harry wakes the next morning and finds his sister already awake. She's sitting on the corner of their bed, dressed and completely ready to go, her legs crossed and her arms resting lazily on them.

From the scowl on her lips and the glassy look in her eyes as she stares out the window, he can tell that she'd woken from another nightmare about Sirius Black.

Tom the innkeeper brings tea as usual and Harry pours Lily a cup to sip on until he gets dressed. When he's done, he's not surprised she hasn't even touched it and drinks it himself before it's gone cold.

He's just persuading a disgruntled Hedwig to get back into her cage when Ron bangs his way into the room, pulling a sweatshirt over his head and looking irritable.

"The sooner we get on the train, the better," he says.

"At least I can get away from Percy at Hogwarts. Now he's accusing me of dripping tea on his photo of Penelope Clearwater. You know," Ron grimaces, "his girlfriend. She's hidden her face under the frame because her nose has gone all blotchy..."

"I've got something to tell you," Harry begins, but they're interrupted by Fred and George, who have looked in to congratulate Ron on infuriating Percy again.

Harry takes Lily's hand and pulls her along as they head down to breakfast, where Mr Weasley is reading the front page of the Daily Prophet with a furrowed brow and Mrs Weasley is telling Hermione and Ginny about a Love Potion she'd made as a young girl. All three of them are rather giggly. Lily's scowl deepens.

"What were you saying?" Ron asks Harry as they sit down.

"Later," Harry mutters, as Percy storms in.

Harry has no chance to speak to Ron or Hermione in the chaos of leaving; they're too busy heaving all their trunks down the Leaky Cauldron's narrow staircase and piling them up near the door, with Hedwig and Hermes, Percy's screech owl, perched on top in their cages. A small wickerwork basket stands beside the heap of trunks, spitting loudly.

Apparently Hermione's bought a big, ugly ginger cat.

"It's all right, Crookshanks," Hermione coos through the wickerwork.

"I'll let you out on the train."

"You won't," Ron snaps.

"What about poor Scabbers, eh?" He points at his chest, where a large lump indicates that Scabbers is curled up in his pocket.

Mr Weasley, who has been outside waiting for the Ministry cars, sticks his head inside.

"They're here," he says.

"Harry, come on." Mr Weasley marches Harry across the short stretch of pavement towards the first of two old-fashioned dark green cars, each of which is driven by a furtive-looking wizard wearing a suit of emerald velvet.

"In you get, Harry," Mr Weasley says, glancing up and down the crowded street.

Before Harry can even put his foot forward, a black car, similar to the green Ministry ones but ten times more stylish, screeches to a halt in front of him. The tinted back passenger window rolls down and Draco's cold eyes glare at him from the inside.