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 Harry 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 this . . .”
It seemed to be a handsome, leather covered book. 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?”
Harry couldn’t speak, but Hagrid understood.
Harry made his way down to the end of year feast alone that night. He had been held up by Madam Pomfrey’s fussing about, insisting on giving him 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 Harry walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once. He slipped into a seat between Ron and 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. Harry 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. Harry Potter . . .” said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet “. . . for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points.”
The din 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 Harry 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. 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. He caught Harry’s eye and Harry knew at once that Snape’s feelings toward him hadn’t changed one jot. This didn’t worry Harry. 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 Harry’s life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls . . . he would never, ever forget tonight.
Harry had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. To their great surprise, both he 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, “both of you—I’ll send you an owl.”
“Thanks,” said Harry, “I’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!”
“See you, Potter!”
“Still famous,” said Ron, grinning at him.
“Not where I’m going, I promise you,” said Harry.
He, Ron, and Hermione passed through the gateway together. “There he is, Mom, there he is, look!”
It was Ginny Weasley, Ron’s younger sister, but she wasn’t pointing at Ron.
“Harry 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
