"Hang on. . . " Harry muttered to Ron. "There's an empty chair at the
staff table .... Where's Snape?"
Professor Severus Snape was Harry's least favorite teacher. Harry
also happened to be Snape's least favorite student. Cruel, sarcastic,
and disliked by everybody except the students from his own house
(Slytherin), Snape taught Potions.
"Maybe he's ill!" said Ron hopefully.
"Maybe he's left," said Ha-rry, "because he missed out on the Defense
Against Dark Arts job again!"
"Or he might have been sacked!" said Ron enthusiastically. "I mean,
everyone hates him -"
"Or maybe," said a very cold voice right behind them, "he's waiting to
hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train."
Harry spun around. There, his black robes rippling in a cold breeze,
stood Severus Snape. He was a thin man with sallow skin, a hooked
nose, and greasy, shoulder-length black hair, and at this moment, he
was smiling in a way that told Harry he and Ron were in very deep
trouble.
"Follow me," said Snape.
Not daring even to look at each other, Harry and Ron followed Snape
up the steps into the vast, echoing entrance hall, which was lit with
66
flaming torches. A delicious smell of food was wafting from the Great
Hall, but Snape led them away from the warmth and light, down a
narrow stone staircase that led into the dungeons.
"In!" he said, opening a door halfway down the cold passageway and
pointing.
They entered Snape's office, shivering. The shadowy walls were lined
with shelves of large glass) ars, in which floated all manner of
revolting things Harry didn't really want to know the name of at the
moment. The fireplace was dark and empty. Snape closed the door
and turned to look at them.
"So," he said softly, "the train isn't good enough for the famous Harry
Potter and his faithful sidekick Weasley. Wanted to arrive with a bang,
did we, boys?"
"No, sir, it was the barrier at King's Cross, it -"
"Silence!" said Snape coldly. "What have you done with the
car?"
Ron gulped. This wasn't the first time Snape had given Harry the
impression of being able to read minds. But a moment later, he un
derstood, as Snape unrolled today's issue of the Evening Prophet.
"You were seen," he hissed, showing them the headline: FLY
ING FORD ANGLIA MYSTIFIES MUGGLES. He began to read
aloud: "Two Muggles in London, convinced they saw an old car
flying over the Post Office tower ... at noon in Norfolk, Mrs.
Hetty Bayliss, while hanging out her washing ... Mr. Angus Fleet,
of Peebles, reported to police ... Six or seven Muggles in all. I be
lieve your father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office?"
he said, looking up at Ron and smiling still more nastily. "Dear,
dear ... his own son. . . "
Harry felt as though he'd just been walloped in the stomach by
one of the mad tree's larger branches. If anyone found out Mr.
Weasley had bewitched the car ... he hadn't thought of that ....
"I noticed, in my search of the park, that considerable damage
seems to have been done to a very valuable Whomping Willow,"