Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Harry Potter, #3)

by J.K. Rowling

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve —” The conductor stopped abruptly. He had just caught sight of Harry, who was still sitting on the ground. Harry snatched up his wand again and scrambled to his feet. Close up, he saw that Stan Shunpike was only a few years older than he was, eighteen or nineteen at most, with large, protruding ears and quite a few pimples. “What were you doin’ down there?” said Stan, dropping his professional manner. “Fell over,” said Harry. “’Choo fall over for?” sniggered Stan.

“You outta your tree?” yelped Stan. “’Choo say ’is name for?”

“’Ear about that ’Arry Potter? Blew up ’is aunt! We ’ad ’im ’ere on the Knight Bus, di’n’t we, Ern? ’E was tryin’ to run for it. . . .”

“’Ow come you di’n’t tell us ’oo you are, eh, Neville?” said Stan, beaming at Harry, while Ernie’s owlish face peered interestedly over Stan’s shoulder.

“Harry!” said Fred, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing deeply. “Simply splendid to see you, old boy —” “Marvelous,” said George, pushing Fred aside and seizing Harry’s hand in turn. “Absolutely spiffing.”

“It’s because of you, Perce,” said George seriously. “And there’ll be little flags on the hoods, with HB on them —” “— for Humongous Bighead,” said Fred. Everyone except Percy and Mrs. Weasley snorted into their pudding.

“That’s the spirit, dear,” said his mirror sleepily.

“This is our last chance — my last chance — to win the Quidditch Cup,” he told them, striding up and down in front of them. “I’ll be leaving at the end of this year. I’ll never get another shot at it. “Gryffindor hasn’t won for seven years now. Okay, so we’ve had the worst luck in the world — injuries — then the tournament getting called off last year. . . .” Wood swallowed, as though the memory still brought a lump to his throat. “But we also know we’ve got the best — ruddy — team — in — the — school,” he said, punching a fist into his other hand, the old manic glint back in his eye. “We’ve got three superb Chasers.” Wood pointed at Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell. “We’ve got two unbeatable Beaters.” “Stop it, Oliver, you’re embarrassing us,” said Fred and George Weasley together, pretending to blush. “And we’ve got a Seeker who has never failed to win us a match!” Wood rumbled, glaring at Harry with a kind of furious pride. “And me,” he added as an afterthought. “We think you’re very good too, Oliver,” said George. “Spanking good Keeper,” said Fred.

“Oliver, calm down!” said Fred, looking slightly alarmed. “We’re taking Hufflepuff very seriously. Seriously.”

Wood looked as though he could have kissed her.

He turned, halfway along the third-floor corridor, to see Fred and George peering out at him from behind a statue of a humpbacked, one-eyed witch.

“What’s that supposed to be?” “This, Harry, is the secret of our success,” said George, patting the parchment fondly.

“A bit of old parchment!” said Fred, closing his eyes with a grimace as though Harry had mortally offended him. “Explain, George.” “Well . . . when we were in our first year, Harry — young, carefree, and innocent —” Harry snorted. He doubted whether Fred and George had ever been innocent. “— well, more innocent than we are now —

In an instant, Ron and Hermione had both placed hands on the top of Harry’s head and forced him off his stool and under the table. Dripping with butterbeer and crouching out of sight, Harry clutched his empty tankard and watched the teachers’ and Fudge’s feet move toward the bar, pause, then turn and walk right toward him.

Harry dropped his tankard with a loud clunk. Ron kicked him.

“Er — shall I make a cup of tea?” said Ron. Harry stared at him. “It’s what my mum does whenever someone’s upset,” Ron muttered, shrugging.

Just because I told her I didn’t care if it threw you off, as long as you caught the Snitch first.”

“Come on, Ron, you were always saying how boring Scabbers was,” said Fred bracingly. “And he’s been off-color for ages, he was wasting away. It was probably better for him to snuff it quickly — one swallow — he probably didn’t feel a thing.” “Fred!” said Ginny indignantly. “All he did was eat and sleep, Ron, you said it yourself,” said George. “He bit Goyle for us once!” Ron said miserably. “Remember, Harry?” “Yeah, that’s true,” said Harry. “His finest hour,” said Fred, unable to keep a straight face. “Let the scar on Goyle’s finger stand as a lasting tribute to his memory. Oh, come on, Ron, get yourself down to Hogsmeade and buy a new rat, what’s the point of moaning?”

Cho Chang.

ilu Cho <3 Harry/Cho 4eva

“Put it here, Harry,” he said, laying the broom in the middle of the table and carefully turning it so that its name faced upward.

“Harry — make sure you win,” said Percy, in an urgent whisper. “I haven’t got ten Galleons.

and Harry couldn’t help noticing, nervous as he was, that she was extremely pretty. She smiled at Harry as the teams faced each other behind their captains, and he felt a slight lurch in the region of his stomach that he didn’t think had anything to do with nerves.

noticing that Cho Chang was tailing him closely. She was undoubtedly a very good flier — she kept cutting across him, forcing him to change direction.

“JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS? GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!”

“HARRY, THIS IS NO TIME TO BE A GENTLEMAN!” Wood roared as Harry swerved to avoid a collision. “KNOCK HER OFF HER BROOM IF YOU HAVE TO!”

“That’s my boy!” Wood kept yelling. Alicia, Angelina, and Katie had all kissed Harry; Fred had him in a grip so tight Harry felt as though his head would come off.

“Well done, Harry!” said Percy, looking delighted. “Ten Galleons to me! Must find Penelope, excuse me —”

“Excellent, are we carrying on?” said Fred Weasley brightly.

“Which person,” she said, her voice shaking, “which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week’s passwords and left them lying around?” There was utter silence, broken by the smallest of terrified squeaks. Neville Longbottom, trembling from head to fluffy-slippered toes, raised his hand slowly into the air.

but I gotta tell yeh, I thought you two’d value yer friend more’n broomsticks or rats. Tha’s all.”

“Ah, well, people can be a bit stupid abou’ their pets,” said Hagrid wisely. Behind him, Buckbeak spat a few ferret bones onto Hagrid’s pillow.

Ron had taken over responsibility for Buckbeak’s appeal. When he wasn’t doing his own work, he was poring over enormously thick volumes with names like The Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology and Fowl or Foul? A Study of Hippogriff Brutality. He was so absorbed, he even forgot to be horrible to Crookshanks.

“Good luck, Harry!” called Cho. Harry felt himself blushing.

Then Wood was speeding toward him, half-blinded by tears; he seized Harry around the neck and sobbed unrestrainedly into his shoulder. Harry felt two large thumps as Fred and George hit them; then Angelina’s, Alicia’s, and Katie’s voices, “We’ve won the Cup! We’ve won the Cup!” Tangled together in a many-armed hug, the Gryffindor team sank, yelling hoarsely, back to earth.

“Oh, he’s not unbalanced,” said Dumbledore quietly. “He’s just suffered a severe disappointment.”

That brings her total of real predictions up to two. I should offer her a pay raise. . . .”

Ron’s eyes widened. The minute owl was still hooting excitedly. “Keep him?” he said uncertainly. He looked closely at the owl for a moment; then, to Harry’s and Hermione’s great surprise, he held him out for Crookshanks to sniff. “What d’you reckon?” Ron asked the cat. “Definitely an owl?” Crookshanks purred. “That’s good enough for me,” said Ron happily. “He’s mine.”