CHAPTER SIXTEEN !

THE MAN WITH TWO FACES
( the philosophers stone )

__________________

IT WAS QUIRRELL.

"You!" gasped Raven.

Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all.

"Me," he said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potters."

"But I thought—Snape—"

"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, either, but cold and sharp. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

Raven couldn't take it in. This couldn't be true, it couldn't.

"But Snape tried to kill us"

"No, no, no. I tried to kill you. Your friend Miss Granger accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. She broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I'd have got you both off those brooms. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn't been muttering a countercurse, trying to save you."

"Snape was trying to save us?"

"Of course," said Quirrell coolly. "Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny, really . . . he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he did make himself unpopular . . . and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you both tonight."

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry and Raven.

"You're too nosy to live, Potters. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."

"You let the troll in?" Raven bursts.

"Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls—you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off—and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly.

"Now, wait quietly, Potters. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

It was only then that Raven realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised. Harry saw it too.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this . . . but he's in London . . . I'll be far away by the time he gets back. . . ."

All Raven could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror.

"We saw you and Snape in the forest—" Harry blurted out.

"Yes," said Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me—as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side. . . ."

Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it.

"I see the Stone . . . I'm presenting it to my master . . . but where is it?"

Harry and Raven struggled against the ropes binding them, but they didn't give. They had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror.

"But Snape always seemed to hate us so much."

"Oh, he does," said Quirrell casually, "heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted you two dead."

"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing—I thought Snape was threatening you. . . ."

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face.

"Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions—he is a great wizard and I am weak—"

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Raven gasped.

"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it. . . . Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me." Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me . . . decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me. . . ."

Quirrell's voice trailed away. Raven was remembering the trip to Diagon Alley. How could she have been so stupid? She and Harry had seen Quirrell there that very day, shaken hands with him in the Leaky Cauldron.

Quirrell cursed under his breath.

"I don't understand . . . is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

Raven's mind was racing.

What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment, she thought, is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. So if we look in the mirror, one of us should see ourselves finding it—which means we can see where it's hidden! But how can I look without Quirrell realizing what I'm up to?

Raven tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, and Harry to the right, but the ropes around her ankles were too tight: she tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored them both. He was still talking to himself.

"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

And to Raven and Harry's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself.

"Use the boy . . . Use the girl . . ."

Quirrell rounded on Harry and Raven.

"Yes—Potters—come here."

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding them fell off. They got slowly to their feet.

"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry walked toward him.

I must lie, he thought desperately. I must look and lie about what I see, that's all.

Quirrell moved close behind him. Harry breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in front of the mirror, and opened them again.

He saw his reflection, pale and scared looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket—and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket. Somehow—incredibly—he'd gotten the Stone.

"Well?" said Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?"

Raven screwed up her courage.

"We see ourselves shaking hands with Dumbledore," Harry started. "We've won the house cup for Gryffindor."

Quirrell cursed again.

"Get out of the way," he said. As they moved aside, Harry felt the Philospher's Stone against his leg. Dare they both make a break for it?

But they hadn't walked five paces before a high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn't moving his lips.

"He lies . . . She lies . . ."

"Potters, come back here!" Quirrell shouted. "Tell me the truth! What did you just see?"

The high voice spoke again.

"Let me speak to them . . . face-to-face . . ."

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

"I have strength enough . . . for this. . . ."

Raven felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting her and Harry to the spot. They couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, they both watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban.

What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot.

Raven would have screamed, but she couldn't make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face they had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

"Harry and Raven Potter . . ." it whispered.

Raven grabbed Harry and tried to take a step backward but her legs wouldn't move.

"See what I have become?" the face said. "Mere shadow and vapor . . . I have form only when I can share another's body . . . but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds. . . . Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks . . . you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest . . . and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own. . . . Now . . . why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"

So he knew. The feeling suddenly surged back into the twins legs. They both stumbled backward.

"Don't be a fool," snarled the face. "Better save your own life and join me . . . or you'll meet the same end as your parents. . . . They died begging me for mercy . . ."

"LIAR!" Raven shouted suddenly.

Quirrell was walking backward at him, so that Voldemort could still see him. The evil face was now smiling.

"How touching . . ." it hissed. "I always value bravery . . . Yes, boy, girl, your parents were brave. . . . I killed your father first; and he put up a courageous fight . . . but your mother needn't have died . . . she was trying to protect you. . . . Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain."

"NEVER!"

Harry and Raven sprang toward the flame door, but Voldemort screamed "SEIZE THEM!" and the next second, Raven felt Quirrell's hand close on her wrist seeing his other hand around Harry's. At once, a needle sharp pain seared across her scar; her head felt as though it was about to split in two; she yelled, both of them struggling with all their might, and to Raven's  surprise, Quirrell let go. The pain in her head lessened—she looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone, and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers—they were blistering before his eyes.

"Seize them! SEIZE THEM!" shrieked Voldemort again, and Quirrell lunged, knocking the twins clean off their feet, landing on top of them, one hand around Harry's neck, the other around Raven's—their scars were almost blinding them with pain, yet they could see Quirrell howling in agony.

"Master, I cannot hold them—my hands—my hands!"

And Quirrell, though pinning Harry and Raven to the ground with his knees, let go of their necks and stared, bewildered, at his own palms—Raven could see they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny.

"Then kill them, fool, and be done!" screeched Voldemort.

Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Harry and Raven, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face—

"AAAARGH!"

Quirrell rolled off them, his face blistering, too, and then Raven knew: Quirrell couldn't touch their bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain—the only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from doing a curse.

Harry and Raven jumped to their feet, caught Quirrell by his arms, and hung on as tight as they could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw them off—the pain in Raven's head was building—she couldn't see—she could only hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of, "KILL THEM! KILL THEM!" and other voices, maybe in the twins own heads, crying, "Harry! Raven!"

They felt Quirrell's arms wrenched from their grasp, knew all was lost, and fell into blackness,

down . . . down . . . down . . .

Raven woke up with a start and looking around, blinking. She saw Harry awake in the bed next to her.

She blinked again. The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view above her and Harry.

"Good afternoon, Harry and Raven," said Dumbledore. Raven stared at him. Then she remembered: "Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! He's got the Stone! Sir, quick—"

"Calm yourself, dear girl, you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore. "Quirrell does not have the Stone."

"Then who does? Sir, we—"

"Raven, Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out."

Raven swallowed and looked around her. She realized she must be in the hospital wing. Next to her and Harry was a table piled high with what looked like half the candy shop.

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," said Dumbledore, beaming. "What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."

"How long have we been in here?"

"Three days. Mr. Lupin, Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried."

"But sir, the Stone—"

"I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to prevent that, although you two were doing very well on your own, I must say."

"You got there? You got Apollo and Hermione's owl?"

"We must have crossed in midair. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you."

"It was you."

"I feared I might be too late."

"You nearly were, we couldn't have kept him off the Stone much longer—"

"Not the Stone, you two—the effort involved nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" said Harry blankly. "But your friend—Nicolas Flamel—"

"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" said Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted. "You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best."

"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"

"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die."

Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement on Raven and Harry's faces.

"To two as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all—the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them."

The twin's lay there, lost for words. Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling.

"Sir?" said Raven. "I've been thinking . . . sir—even if the Stone's gone, Vol—, I mean, You-Know-Who—"

"Call him Voldemort. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"

"No, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share . . . not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, Raven, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time—and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."

Raven nodded, but stopped quickly, because it made her head hurt. Then Harry said, "Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me . . . things I want to know the truth about. . . ."

"The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."

"Well . . . Voldemort said that he only killed our mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill us in the first place?"

Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time.

"Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day . . . put it from your mind for now. When you are older . . . I know you hate to hear this . . . when you are ready, you will know."

And Harry and Raven knew it would be no good to argue.

"But why couldn't Quirrell touch us?"

"Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign . . . to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."

Dumbledore now became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, which gave Raven time to dry his eyes on the sheet. When she had found her voice again, Raven said, "And the Invisibility Cloak—do you know who sent it to me?"

"Ah—your father happened to leave it in my possession, and I thought you two might like it." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Useful things . . . your father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here."

"And there's something else . . ." said Harry.

"Fire away."

"Quirrell said Snape—"

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"Yes, him—Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?"

"Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourselves and Mr. Malfoy. And then, your father did something Snape could never forgive."

"What?"

"He saved his life."

"What?" Raven said bewildered.

"Yes . . ." said Dumbledore dreamily. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your father's debt. . . . I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father's memory in peace. . . ."

Raven tried to understand this but it made her head pound, so he stopped.

"And sir, there's one more thing . . ."

"Just the one?"

"How did we get the Stone out of the mirror?"

"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone—find it, but not use it—would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes. . . . Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomitflavored one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them—but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?"

He smiled and popped the golden brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, "Alas! Ear wax!"

Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was a nice woman, but very strict.

"Just five minutes," Harry pleaded.

"Absolutely not."

"You let Professor Dumbledore in . . ." pleaded Raven.

"Well, of course, that was the headmaster, quite different. You need rest."

"I am resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey . . ."

"Oh, very well," she said. "But five minutes only."

And she let Apollo, Ron, and Hermione in.

"Harry! Raven!"

Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around Raven again, but she was glad she held herself in as her head was still very sore.

"Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to—Dumbledore was so worried—"

"The whole school's talking about it," said Ron.

   "What really happened?" asked Apollo.

It was one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more strange and exciting than the wild rumors. Harry and Raven told them everything: Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. Apollo, Ron, and Hermione were a very good audience; they gasped in all the right places, and when Raven told them what was under Quirrell's turban, Hermione screamed out loud.

"So the Stone's gone?" said Ron finally. "Flamel's just going to die?"

"That's what Raven said, but Dumbledore thinks that—what was it?—'to the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.'"

"I always said he was off his rocker," said Ron, looking quite impressed at how crazy his hero was.

"So what happened to you three?" said Harry.

"Well, Apollo and I got back all right," said Hermione. "I brought Ron round—that took a while—and we were dashing up to the owlery to contact Dumbledore when we met him in the entrance hall—he already knew—he just said, 'Raven and Harry have gone after him, haven't they, and hurtled off to the third floor."

"D'you think he meant you to do it?" said Ron. "Sending you your father's cloak and everything?"

"Well," Hermione exploded, "if he did—I mean to say that's terrible—you could have been killed."

"No, it isn't," said Raven thoughtfully. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could. . . ."

"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," said Ron proudly. "Listen, you've got to be up for the end of year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course—you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you both—but the food'll be good."

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over.

"You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT," she said firmly.

After a good night's sleep, the twin's felt nearly back to normal.

"We want to go to the feast," they told Madam Pomfrey as she straightened his many candy boxes. "We can, right?"

"Professor Dumbledore says you are to be allowed to go," she said stiffily, as though in her opinion Professor Dumbledore didn't realize how risky feasts could be. "And you have another visitor."

"Oh, good," said Harry. "Who is it?"

Hagrid sidled through the door as he spoke. As usual when he was indoors, Hagrid looked too big to be allowed. He sat down next to Harry and Raven, took one look at him, and burst into tears.

"It's—all—my—ruddy—fault!" he sobbed, his face in his hands. "I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only thing he didn't know, an' I told him! Yeh both could've died! All fer a dragon egg! I'll never drink again! I should be chucked out an' made ter live as a Muggle!"

"Hagrid!" said Raven, shocked to see Hagrid shaking with grief and remorse, great tears leaking down into his beard. "Hagrid, he'd have found out somehow, this is Voldemort we're talking about, he'd have found out even if you hadn't told him."

"Yeh could've died!" sobbed Hagrid. "An' don' say the name!"

"VOLDEMORT!" Harry bellowed, and Hagrid was so shocked, he stopped crying. "I've met him and I'm calling him by his name. Please cheer up, Hagrid, we saved the Stone, it's gone, he can't use it. Have a Chocolate Frog, I've got loads. . . ."

Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, "That reminds me. I've got yeh a present."

"It's not a stoat sandwich, is it?" said Raven anxiously, and at last Hagrid gave a weak chuckle.

"Nah. Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it. 'Course, he shoulda sacked me instead—anyway, got yeh two this . . ."

It seemed to be a handsome, leather covered book. Raven and Harry opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from every page were his mother and father.

"Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos . . . knew yeh didn' have any . . . d'yeh like it?"

The twin's couldn't speak, but Hagrid understood.

Harry and Raven made their way down to the end of year feast alone that night. They had been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing about, insisting on giving them both one last checkup, so the Great Hall was already full. It was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.

When they walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once. Harry slipped into a seat besides Ron and Raven besides Hermione at the Gryffindor table and tried to ignore the fact that people were standing up to look at him.

Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were . . . you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts. . . .

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Raven could see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little.

"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes . . .

"First—to Mr. Ronald Weasley . . ."

Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn.

". . . for the best played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

At last there was silence again.

"Second—to Miss Hermione Granger . . . for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harry strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves—they were a hundred points up.

""Third - to Mr. Apollo Lupin..." Dumbledore called and Raven saw that Apollo immediately looked as though he was about to faint when all eyes turned to him. However, cheers and murmurs from the other Hufflepuffs allowed him to grin. "For keeping friends safe in the most dangerous of moments. I award Hufflepuff House fifty points!"

Hufflepuff had erupted, "we passed slytherin!" someone had yelled, and they all saw Malfoy had lowered his head to the table.

Suddenly the brunette was being hugged tightly and he couldn't stop laughing. He saw Dumbledore was waiting for them to stop congratulating the Lupin patiently.

"Fourth to Mr. Harry Potter and Miss Raven Potter. . ." said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet ". . . for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

The silence was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy two points—exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the house cup—if only Dumbledore had given them just one more point.

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Raven, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body Bind Curse put on him.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile. Raven laughed. He caught both Raven Harry's eye and Raven knew at once that Snape's feelings toward him hadn't changed one jot. This didn't worry them. It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts.

It was the best evening of Raven's life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls . . . she would never, ever forget tonight.

Raven had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. To their great surprise, she, Harry and Ron passed with good marks; Hermione, of course, had the best grades of the first years. Even Neville scraped through, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions one. They had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, might be thrown out, but he had passed, too. It was a shame, but as Ron said, you couldn't have everything in life.

And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, Neville's toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays ("I always hope they'll forget to give us these," said Fred Weasley sadly); Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as they sped past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station.

It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform. A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and threes so they didn't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.

"You must come and stay this summer," said Ron, "all of you—I'll send you an owl."

"Thanks," said Harry, "We'll need something to look forward to." People jostled them as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:

"Bye, Harry and Raven!"

"See you, Potters!"

"Still famous," said Ron, grinning at them.

"Not where we're going, I promise you," said Raven.

Harry, Apollo, Raven, Ron, and Hermione passed through the gateway together. "There they are Mom, there they are, look!"

It was Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, but she wasn't pointing at Ron.

"Harry and Raven Potter!" she squealed. "Look, Mom! I can see—"

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point."

Mrs. Weasley smiled down at them.

"Busy year?" she said.

"Very," said Harry. "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it was nothing, dear."

"Ready, are you?"

It was Uncle Vernon, still purple faced, still mustached, still looking furious at the nerve of Harry, carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of Harry and Raven.

"You must be Raven and Harry's family!" said Mrs. Weasley.

"In a manner of speaking," said Uncle Vernon. "Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day." He walked away.

Raven turned back and gave Hermione one last hug and they both hung back for a last word with Apollo, Ron, and Hermione.

"See you over the summer, then."

"Hope you have—er—a good holiday," said Hermione, looking uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant.

"Oh, we will," said Raven, and they were surprised at the grin that was spreading over her face. "They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. It's going to be a lot of fun with Dudley this summer. . . ."