"Morning, Ivory!" Hermione said, as she entered the common room the following morning.

"Morning, Hermione," I said, glancing up from the book I was reading - Intermediate Transfiguration by Emeric Switch - and giving her a slight smile.

Just then, Harry and Ron came down the stairs from the boys' dorms.

"Morning, you two," Ron said, yawning.

"Ron, you can't seriously still be tired?" I said incredulously. "It's eight o'clock!"

"Well, I am. C'mon, let's go to breakfast, I'm starving."

"Oh, me too," I said softly, though none of them seemed to hear. Which was just as well, because it suddenly occurred to me as we climbed through the portrait hole that Ron had meant it as 'I'm really hungry', as opposed to the 'I'm actually starving because I haven't eaten for about two weeks' I'd been using it as.

When we entered the Great Hall, the first thing we saw was Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. As we passed, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit, and the group of Slytherins all roared with laughter.

"Ignore him," Hermione said. "Just ignore him, it's not worth it..."

"Hey, Potter!" Pansy Parkinson shrieked. "Potter! The Dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooo!"

Trying to resist the urge to send a stunning spell at her, I sat down at the Gryffindor table with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the Weasley twins - Fred and George.

"New third-year timetables," the twin Harry was sitting next to said, passing them to each of us. "What's up with you, Harry?"

"Malfoy," Ron said, glaring over at the Slytherin table.

Both twins looked over just in time to see Malfoy pretending to faint with terror again.

"That little git," the first twin said calmly. "He wasn't so cocky last night, when the Dementors were down our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"

"Nearly wet himself," the other twin - Fred - agreed, with a contemptuous glance at Malfoy.

I blocked out the rest of the conversation, wondering again what Mother and Father's reaction would be when I told them how I was sorted. It was sure to be painful, and would almost certainly add to the collection of scars on my body. I thought back to the last time Father had punished me directly, and gave a slight shudder as I remembered how I'd genuinely believed I was going to die that day - and very nearly had.

"Ivory, you're not eating anything again!" Ginny said, sitting down next to me, and pulling me from my thoughts. "You need to eat; you didn't have anything for dinner yesterday either, and it's really not healthy-"

"I'm just not hungry, Ginny," I said, shrugging.

Just then, Professor Hagrid entered the Great Hall. He was wearing a long moleskin overcoat, and was absentmindedly swinging a dead polecat from one enormous hand.

"All righ'?" he said eagerly to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, pausing on his way up to the staff table. "Yer in my firs' ever lesson! Righ' after lunch! Bin up since five gettin' everythin' ready... hope it's ok... me, a teacher... hones'ly..."

He grinned broadly at the three of them, and headed up to the staff table, still swinging the polecat.

"Wonder what he's been getting ready?" Ron asked, a note of anxiety in his voice.

The room was starting to empty now, as people headed off to their first lessons. Ron checked his timetable.

"We'd better go, look - Divination's at the top of the North Tower; it'll take us ten minutes to get there..."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione hastily finished their breakfasts, then we said goodbye to Fred, George, and Ginny, and walked back through the hall. As we passed the Slytherin table, Malfoy did yet another impression of a fainting fit, to more laughter.

The journey through the castle to the North Tower was a long one, and as none of the other three had never been inside that particular tower before, they didn't know any quicker ways of getting there.

"There's - got - to - be - a - short - cut," Ron panted, as we climbed our seventh long staircase, and emerged into yet another corridor, where there was nothing but a painting of a bare stretch of grass hanging on the wall.

Feeling really rather ill from all the exercise I was doing after about two weeks without food, I leant against the wall, my eyes fixed on the painting as I tried to stop myself passing out.

"I think it's this way," Hermione said, peering down the empty passage to the right.

"Can't be," Ron said. "That's south - look, you can see a bit of the lake though the window-"

As I surreptitiously summoned a Strengthening Solution from my purse and drank it down, a fat, dapple-grey pony ambled onto the grass in the painting, and began grazing nonchalantly. A moment later, a short, squat knight in a suit of armour clanked into the picture after his pony. By the look of the grass stains on his metal knees, he'd just fallen off.

"Aha!" he yelled, seeing the four of us. "What villains are these that trespass upon my private lands?! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!"

I watched in astonishment as he pulled his sword out of its scabbard and began brandishing it violently, hopping up and down in rage. But the sword was too long for him; a particularly wild swing made him topple over, and he landed face down in the grass.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, moving closer to the picture.

"Get back, you scurvy braggart! Back, you rogue!"

The knight grabbed his sword again and used it to push himself back up, but in doing so, the blade was pushed deep into the grass, and he couldn't get it out again. Finally, after much tugging, he had to flop back down onto the grass and push up his visor to mop his sweating face.

"Listen," Harry said, taking advantage of the knight's exhaustion, "we're looking for the North Tower. You don't know the way, do you?"

"A quest!" The knight's rage seemed to vanish immediately. He got to his feet, and shouted, "Come follow me, dear friends, and we shall find our goal, or else shall perish bravely in the charge!"

He gave the sword another fruitless tug, tried and failed to mount the fat pony, and cried, "On foot then, good sirs and gentle ladies! On! On!"

And then he ran, clanking loudly, into the left side of the frame, and out of sight. We all hurried after him, following the sound of his armour. Every now and then, I spotted him running through a painting ahead.

"Be of stout heart, the worst is yet to come!" he yelled, and I saw him reappear in front of an alarmed group of women in crinolines, whose painting hung on the wall of a narrow, spiral staircase.

Puffing loudly, we climbed the tightly spiralling steps, getting dizzier and dizzier, until at last I heard the murmur of voices above us, and knew that we had finally arrived at the classroom.

"Farewell!" the knight cried, popping his head into a painting of some sinister-looking monks. "Farewell, my comrades-in-arms! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!"

"Yeah, we'll call you," Ron muttered, as the knight disappeared, "if we ever need someone mental."

We climbed the last few steps, and emerged onto a tiny landing where most of the class were already waiting. There were no doors off this landing, but I noticed a circular trapdoor set into the ceiling, with a brass plaque on it.

"Sybill Trelawney, Divination teacher," Harry read aloud. "How're we supposed to get up there?"

As though in answer to his question, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at Harry's feet. Everyone went quiet.

"After you," Ron said, grinning, so Harry climbed the ladder first, with me following close behind.