The notices had gone up all around the school overnight, but they did not explain how every single person within the castle seemed to know that Dumbledore had overcome two Aurors, the High Inquisitor, the Minister for Magic and his Junior Assistant to escape. No matter where Harry went within the castle, the sole topic of conversation was Dumbledore's flight, and though some of the details may have gone awry in the retelling (Harry overheard one second-year girl assuring another that Fudge was now lying in St Mungo's with a pumpkin for a head) it was surprising how accurate the rest of their information was. Everybody knew, for instance, that Harry and Marietta were the only students to have witnessed the scene in Dumbledore's office and, as Marietta was now in the hospital wing, Harry found himself besieged with requests to give a first-hand account.

'Dumbledore will be back before long,' said Ernie Macmillan confidently on the way back from Herbology, after listening intently to Harry's story. 'They couldn't keep him away in our second year and they won't be able to this time. The Fat Friar told me — ' he dropped his voice conspiratorially, so that Harry, Ron and Hermione had to lean closer to him to hear ' — that Umbridge tried to get back into his office last night after they'd searched the castle and grounds for him. Couldn't get past the gargoyle. The Head's office has sealed itself against her.' Ernie smirked. 'Apparently, she had a right little tantrum.'

'Oh, I expect she really fancied herself sitting up there in the Head's office,' said Hermione viciously, as they walked up the stone steps into the Entrance Hall. 'Lording it over all the other teachers, the stupid puffed-up, power-crazy old — '

'Now, do you really want to finish that sentence, Granger?'

Draco Malfoy had slid out from behind the door, closely followed by Crabbe and Goyle. His pale, pointed face was alight w th malice.

'Afraid I'm going to have to dock a few points from Gryffincor and Hufflepuff,' he drawled.

'It's only teachers who can dock points from houses, Malfoy,' said Ernie at once.

'Yeah, we're prefects, too, remember?' snarled Ron.

'I know prefects can't dock points, Weasel King,' sneered Maltby. Crabbe and Goyle sniggered. 'But members of the Inquisitorial Squad — '

'The what?' said Hermione sharply.

'The Inquisitorial Squad, Granger,' said Malfoy, pointing towards a tiny silver 'I' on his robes just beneath his prefect's badge. 'A select group of students who are supportive of the Ministry of Magic, hand-picked by Professor Umbridge. Anyway, members of the Inquisitorial Squad do have the power to dock points . . . so, Granger, I'll have five from you for being rude about our new Headmistress. Macmillan, five for contradicting me. Five because I don't like you, Potter. Weasley, your shirt's untucked, so I'll have another five for that. Oh yeah, I forgot, you're a Mudblood, Granger, so ten off for that.'

Ron pulled out his wand, but Hermione pushed it away, whispering, 'Don't!'

'Wise move, Granger,' breathed Malfoy. 'New Head, new times . . . be good now, Potty . . . Weasel King . . .'

Laughing heartily, he strode away with Crabbe and Goyle.

'He was bluffing,' said Ernie, looking appalled. 'He can't be allowed to dock points . . . that would be ridiculous . . . it would completely undermine the prefect system.'

But Harry, Ron and Hermione had turned automatically towards the giant hour-glasses set in niches along the wall behind them, which recorded the house-points. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had been neck and neck in the lead that morning. Even as they watched, stones flew upwards, reducing the amounts in the lower bulbs. In fact, the only glass that seemed unchanged was the emerald-filled one of Slytherin.

'Noticed, have you?' said Fred's voice.

He and George had just come down the marble staircase and joined Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ernie in front of the hour-glasses.

'Malfoy just docked us all about fifty points,' said Harry furiously, as they watched several more stones fly upwards from the Gryffindor hour-glass.

'Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break,' said George.

'What do you mean, "tried"?' said Ron quickly.

'He never managed to get all the words out,' said Fred, 'due to the fact that we forced him head-first into that Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor.'

Hermione looked very shocked.

'But you'll get into terrible trouble!'

'Not until Montague reappears, and that could take weeks, I dunno where we sent him,' said Fred coolly. 'Anyway . . . we've decided we don't care about getting into trouble any more.'

'Have you ever?' asked Hermione.

'Course we have,' said George. 'Never been expelled, have we?'

'We've always known where to draw the line,' said Fred.

'We might have put a toe across it occasionally,' said George.

'But we've always stopped short of causing real mayhem,' said Fred.

'But now?' said Ron tentatively.

'Well, now —' said George.

' — what with Dumbledore gone — ' said Fred.

' — we reckon a bit of mayhem — ' said George.

' — is exactly what our dear new Head deserves,' said Fred.

'You mustn't!' whispered Hermione. 'You really mustn't! She'd love a reason to expel you!'

'You don't get it, Hermione, do you?' said Fred, smiling at her. 'We don't care about staying any more. We'd walk out right now if we weren't determined to do our bit for Dumbledore first. So, anyway,' he checked his watch, 'phase one is about to begin. I'd get in the Great Hall for lunch, if I were you, that way the teachers will see you can't have had anything to do with it.'

'Anything to do with what?' said Hermione anxiously.

'You'll see,' said George. 'Run along, now.'

Fred and George turned away and disappeared into the swelling crowd descending the stairs towards lunch. Looking highly disconcerted, Ernie muttered something about unfinished Transfiguration homework and scurried away.

'I think we should get out of here, you know,' said Hermione nervously. 'Just in case . . .'

'Yeah, all right,' said Ron, and the three of them moved towards the doors to the Great Hall, but Harry had barely glimpsed the day's ceiling of scudding white clouds when somebody tapped him on the shoulder and, turning, he found himself almost nose-to-nose with Filch the caretaker. He took several hasty steps backwards; Filch was best viewed at a distance.

'The Headmistress would like to see you, Potter,' he leered.

'I didn't do it,' said Harry stupidly, thinking of whatever Fred and George were planning. Filch's jowls wobbled with silent laughter.

'Guilty conscience, eh?' he wheezed. 'Follow me.'

Harry glanced back at Ron and Hermione, who were both looking worried. He shrugged, and followed Filch back into the Entrance Hall, against the tide of hungry students.

Filch seemed to be in an extremely good mood; he hummed creakily under his breath as they climbed the marble staircase. As they reached the first landing he said, 'Things are changing around here, Potter.'

'I've noticed,' said Harry coldly.

'Yerse . . . I've been telling Dumbledore for years and years he's too soft with you all,' said Filch, chuckling nastily. 'You filthy little beasts would never have dropped Stink Pellets if you'd known I had it in my power to whip you raw, would you, now? Nobody would have thought of throwing Fanged Frisbees down the corridors if I could've strung you up by the ankles in my office, would they? But when Educational Decree Number Twenty-nine comes in, Potter, I'll be allowed to do them things . . . and she's asked the Minister to sign an order for the expulsion of Peeves . . . oh, things are going to be very different around here with her in charge . . .'

Umbridge had obviously gone to some lengths to get Filch on her side, Harry thought, and the worst of it was that he would probably prove an important weapon; his knowledge of the school's secret passageways and hiding places was probably second only to that of the Weasley twins.

'Here we are,' he said, leering down at Harry as he rapped three times on Professor Umbridge's door and pushed it open. 'The Potter boy to see you, Ma'am.'

Umbridge's office, so very familiar to Harry from his many detentions, was the same as usual except for the large wooden block lying across the front of her desk on which golden letters spelled the word: HEADMISTRESS. Also, his Firebolt and Fred and George's Cleansweeps, which he saw with a pang, were chained and padlocked to a stout iron peg in the wall behind the desk.

Umbridge was sitting behind the desk, busily scribbling on some of her pink parchment, but she looked up and smiled widely at their entrance.

'Thank you, Argus,' she said sweetly.

'Not at all, Ma'am, not at all,' said Filch, bowing as low as his rheumatism would permit, and exiting backwards.

'Sit,' said Umbridge curtly, pointing towards a chair. Harry sat. She continued to scribble for a few moments. He watched some of the foul kittens gambolling around the plates over her head, wondering what fresh horror she had in store for him.

'Well, now,' she said finally, setting down her quill and surveying him complacently, like a toad about to swallow a particularly juicy fly. 'What would you like to drink?'

'What? said Harry, quite sure he had misheard her.

'To drink, Mr Potter,' she said, smiling still more widely. Tea? Coffee? Pumpkin juice?'

As she named each drink, she gave her short wand a wave, and a cup or glass of it appeared on her desk.

'Nothing, thank you,' said Harry.

'I wish you to have a drink with me,' she said, her voice becoming dangerously sweet. 'Choose one.'

'Fine . . . tea then,' said Harry shrugging.

She got up and made quite a performance of adding milk with her back to him. She then bustled around the desk with it, smiling in a sinisterly sweet fashion.

'There,' she said, handing it to him. 'Drink it before it gets cold, won't you? Well, now, Mr Potter . . . I thought we ought to have a little chat, after the distressing events of last night.'