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“So there you are, Tom, clear, and I hope you enjoyed that!”

Who are you talking about?' said Harry, with an increasing sense that all reason had dropped out of the conversation.

Swearing angrily, Harry spun round and set off around the pitch again, scanning the skies for some sign of the tiny, winged golden ball.

:

"Tonight," he told Ron and Hermione, once he had unrolled it.

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"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah, I suppose so. ..."

Voldemort reached out his hand, without invitation this time, and held it up to the light, staring at it.

Harry blinked and looked around. Of course: He was in the hospital wing. The sky outside was indigo streaked with crimson. The match must have finished hours ago ... as had any hope of cornering Malfoy. Harry's head felt strangely heavy; he raised a hand and felt a stiff turban of bandages.

"Thank you for saying that, Harry," said Dumbledore quietly. "May I hope, then, that you will give this matter higher priority from now on? There will be little point in our meeting after tonight unless we have that memory."

There was one second, hardly more than a heartbeat, in which Harry knew there was something terribly wrong and Slughorn, it seemed, did not.

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Dobby appeared alongside Kreacher, his tea-cozy hat askew. "Dobby has been helping too, Harry Potter!" he squeaked, cast-ing Kreacher a resentful look. "And Kreacher ought to tell Dobby when he is coming to see Harry Potter so they can make their re-ports together!"

Voldemort inclined his head, unsmiling, and took another sip of wine. Dumbledore did not break the silence that stretched between them now, but waited, with a look of pleasant expectancy, for Voldemort to talk first.

'You can't stand what?' asked Harry, now starling to feel definitely alarmed. Ron was rather pale and looked as though he was about to be sick.

There was a nasty hissing noise as Filch swelled with fury; Mrs. Norris had arrived, unseen, and was twisting herself sinuously around Filch's skinny ankles.

And the next thing Harry knew, he was lying in a remarkably warm and comfortable bed and looking up at a lamp that was throwing a circle of golden light onto a shadowy ceiling. He raised his head awkwardly. There on his left was a familiar-looking, freckly, red-haired person.

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He bustled back into the castle, and Harry sped off to Hagrid's, delighted with himself.

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"Is Hermione Granger still visiting him?" Lavender demanded suddenly.

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"Of course, it's difficult for you, who knew him best," said Slughorn, who like Harry could reach no higher than Hagrid's el-bow, but patted it all the same. "Why don't I say a few words?"

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Harry laughed, and Ron and Hermione looked even more alarmed.,

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"How exactly did it happen, Harry?";

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