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Riddle spoke in Parseltongue. The man skidded into the table, sending moldy pots crashing to the floor. He stared at Riddle. There was a long silence while they contemplated each other. The man broke it.
Ginny screamed with derisive laughter, trying to push Harry out of the way.
Ron thought that Harry was unlikely to have any trouble with Slughorn at all.
"Oops!" said Lavender, and she backed out of the room, gig-gling. The door swung shut behind her.
"Pity you didn't hear what Malfoy’s actually doing, though." "I couldn't have done, could I? That was the whole point, he was refusing to tell Snape."
Ron fell asleep almost immediately, but Harry delved into his trunk and pulled out his copy of Advanced Potion-Making before getting into bed. There he turned its pages, searching, until he finally found, at the front of the book, the date that it had been pub-lished. It was nearly fifty years old. Neither his father, nor his father's friends, had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago. Feeling disappointed, Harry threw the book back into his trunk, turned off the lamp, and rolled over, thinking of werewolves and Snape, Stan Shunpike and the Half-Blood Prince, and finally falling into an uneasy sleep full of creeping shadows and the cries of bitten children. . . .
tudes, Harry brooded for the next few days over what to do next about Slughorn. He decided that, for the time being, he would let Slughorn think that he had forgotten all about Horcruxes; it was surely best to lull him into a false sense of security before returning to the attack.
Hermione slid off the desk. The little flock of golden birds con-tinued to twitter in circles around her head so that she looked like a strange, feathery model of the solar system.
"But he 'accidentally' let it slip that you're a werewolf, so you had to leave!" said Harry angrily.
"Er," said Harry, "were you?"
Harry said nothing. He could tell that Scrimgeour was watching him.
Harry, who thought it most unlikely that Rufus Scrimgeour was a vampire, but who was used to Luna repeating her father's bizarre views as though they were fact, did not reply; they were already approaching Slughorn's office and the sounds of laughter, music, and loud conversation were growing louder with every step they took.
With half an hour of the game gone, Gryffindor were leading sixty points to zero, Ron having made some truly spectacular saves, some by the very tips of his gloves, and Ginny having scored four of Gryffindor's six goals. This effectively stopped Zacharias won-dering loudly whether the two Weasleys were only there because Harry liked them, and he started on Peakes and Coote instead.
then there came a loud knock on the door and the man jerked awake, raising a wand in his right hand and a short knife in his left.
"As you might have noticed," said Dumbledore, reseating himself behind his desk, "that memory has been tampered with."
These words were greeted with jeers and applause from the Slytherin end of the pitch. Harry craned around on his broom to look toward the commentator's podium. A call, skinny blond buy with an upturned nose was standing there, talking into the magical megaphone that had once been Lee Jordan's; Harry recognized Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff player whom he heartily disliked.？