The next morning, Harry and Ron woke up early with the growing dread of knowing that they still had a load of homework to do. They had wasted the afternoon racing each other on their Firebolts out on the Quidditch pitch the previous day, and still hadn’t done any work. They worked restlessly for a while, stopping when everyone came down from the common rooms to eat breakfast.
There was a large group gathered around the Head Table in the Great Hall as Ron and Harry entered, and many curious Gryffindors rushed over to see what all the commotion was about, Ron and Harry among them. Everyone appeared to be chatting excitedly over something in the Daily Prophet. It was so noisy that Headmistress McGonagall had to stand up and send sparks into the air to regain control of the students.
“Everyone back to your tables!” she ordered. “We will clear up the matter momentarily.”
Ron glanced at his dad before heading back to the Gryffindor table. He was shocked to see him sadly looking back at him with a look of concern on his face. “What do you think is going on?” he muttered to Harry.
“Dunno,” Harry said, pointing to the ceiling. “But I think we’re about to find out.” Ron’s tawny-brown owl, Walter, was swooping down to the Gryffindor table. The two cousins hurried over to get the newspaper tied to Walter’s leg, ready to search the Prophet for whatever might’ve caught everyone’s attention.
They didn’t need to search long. They gawked at the front headline:
MASS BREAKOUT
Last night, over fifty widely-acclaimed Death Eaters escaped from Azkaban Prison. 102-year-old Minister Rufus Scrimgeour, upon hearing this news, rushed immediately to the scene to clear up the matter. We, too, sent our own Tina Gavin out to the field to see what had occurred…
Rufus Scrimgeour concludes, “The troll on duty last night, whose name will be withheld at the moment, apparently fell asleep on shift, barely within reach of one Death Eater, who managed to get hold of the guard’s keys. [He] found his wand, and all pandemonium broke loose.”
An estimated 46 trolls guarding the prison, nearly all at the site, were killed in the wake of the fifty-plus wizards. Experts say…
Suddenly, the paper was ripped from Ron’s hands. Ron looked up to see Marilyn Malfoy, sporting a nasty smirk. “Reading about my father, are you?” she said, grin never fading. “Too bad your father couldn’t take out a troll and steal his keys…”
“That coward you call a father had to wait for the troll to fall asleep first,” Ron spat back haughtily. “I’ll bet he’s really proud of himself…”
Marilyn glared at him. “We’ll see who’s laughing when you’re cornered with four dozen Death Eaters out to kill you, Potter.” With that, she turned and briskly walked away.
Harry looked worriedly at Ron. “D’you think she’s bluffing?” he asked, trying to hide his fear. “I mean…they didn’t break out just to get revenge on your dad, did they?”
Ron didn’t say anything. For once, he didn’t have an answer.
Suddenly, the room fell silent as Headmistress McGonagall stood up and cleared her throat. “Many of you have already heard that several dozen Death Eaters escaped from Azkaban last night,” she announced. There was a sharp intake of breath from a few students who had just walked into the Hall. “This means that a few ground rules need to be set down for extra caution:
“First, curfew will now be at eight-thirty sharp, with the exception of sixth and seventh years, for whom it is nine o’ clock sharp. Any student found out of bed after curfew will be punished severely. Secondly, the sending and receiving of anything by owl outside of the school will now be monitored. We advise that you do not make your letters too personal, or too inappropriate. Any Dark devices found will be destroyed immediately. Third…”
As she explained a few other rules, Harry and Ron whispered to each other. “Look at my dad,” Ron said, silently gesturing to Professor Potter up at the High Table. “We should talk to him afterwards.”
Harry nodded. “Man, this is scary,” he said in a shaky voice. “I mean “ the thought that we could be attacked by Death Eaters…” He shuddered. Ron glumly agreed. They waited for McGonagall to dismiss them for classes, and they chased after Ron’s dad, who had left the Hall at once.
“Dad!” Ron called after him. He had expected his dad to try to make a quick escape, but he instead turned, putting his hands on his son’s shoulders. Ron found himself looking deep into Harry Potter’s green eyes.
“Take heed of what McGonagall said,” he said in a low voice. “Follow all the rules, do whatever your teachers say, and do not use the Invisibility Cloak.” With that, he turned and walked up to his classroom.
Harry’s eyebrows arched. “He knows about your Cloak!” he whispered in awe. “How…” he broke off at the sight of Ron, who was gazing up the stairs to where his father had been seconds before.
“You were right,” he said in a low voice. “The Death Eaters are coming to Hogwarts.”
***
“I don’t understand,” Harry said as they rushed off to History of Magic. “Why would your dad be worried about you? I mean, it’s him they want revenge on for killing their master, right?”
“Yes,” Ron said slowly. “But, obviously, they don’t want to directly confront the man who destroyed the most evil wizard on Earth. I reckon they’ll want to get me, instead, and use me to get to him.”
Harry gawked at him. “You think they’re going to use you as bait to lure Uncle Harry away from Hogwarts?”
Ron nodded. “And then they’ll kill us both,” he muttered. Harry’s eyes popped out even more. They couldn’t talk any further, because the bell rang and they had to scurry to History of Magic before Binns realized they were late, which he didn’t.
Ron had given up taking notes in History of Magic, figuring that if his dad didn’t consider it important, he shouldn’t either. He instead forced the Death Eaters from his mind by staring out the window, formulating a plan to get himself and Harry onto the Gryffindor Quidditch Team….
***
“Potter! Weasley!”
Harry and Ron looked up abruptly from their conversation. They were in Double Potions, and they were eager to get to lunch. Snape was glaring at them.
“Ten points from Gryffindor for your excessive talking,” he said coldly. “And I suggest you hurry with your potion; you have ten minutes remaining.
“Yes, sir,” Ron said. As soon as Snape had returned to checking everyone’s potions, they returned to their conversation.
“I’m telling you, Ron,” Harry whispered, “there’s no way they’ll let us on the team. You heard McGonagall; no first-years allowed. No exceptions.”
“That’s what they said in my dad’s year,” Ron retorted, “but he still got on the team.”
“Yeah, but only because Draco Malfoy stole someone’s Remembrall!” Harry protested. “And somehow, I don’t think we’ll convince a Slytherin to help us reenact something like that to get us on the team.”
“Who says we’ll be using a Slytherin’s help?” Ron replied coolly, smirking. “Don’t worry, I have a plan...”
“Potter! What did I say about talking?”
“Sorry, Professor...”