reached the desk in his dark bedroom. He addressed the first to Sirius, the second to Ron
and the third to Hermione. His owl, Hedwig, was off hunting; her cage stood empty on
the desk. Harry paced the bedroom waiting for her to come back, his head pounding, his
brain too busy for sleep even though his eyes stung and itched with tiredness. His back
ached from hauling Dudley home, and the two lumps on his head where the window and
Dudley had hit him were throbbing painfully.
Up and down he paced, consumed with anger and frustration, grinding his teeth and
clenching his fists, casting angry looks out at the empty, star-strewn sky every time he
passed the window. Dementors sent to get him, Mrs Figg and Mundungus Fletcher
tailing him in secret, then suspension fromHogwarts and a hearing at the Ministry of
Magic - and still no one was telling him what was going on.
And what, what, had that Howler been about? Whose voice had echoed so horribly, so
menacingly, through the kitchen?
Why was he still trapped here without information? Why was everyone treating him like
some naughty kid? Don't do any more magic, stay in the house…
He kicked his school trunk as he passed it, but far from relieving his anger he felt worse,
as he now had a sharp pain in his toe to deal with in addition to the pain in the rest of his
body.
Just as he limped past the window, Hedwig soared through it with a soft rustle of wings
like a small ghost.
'About time!' Harry snarled, as she landed lightly on top of her cage. 'You can put that
down, I've got work for you!'
Hedwig's large, round, amber eyes gazed at him reproachfully over the dead frog
clamped in her beak.
'Come here,' said Harry, picking up the three small rolls of parchment and a leather thong
and tying the scrolls to her scaly leg. Take these straight to Sirius, Ron and Hermione and
don't come back here without good long replies. Keep pecking them till they've written
decent-length answers if you've got to. Understand?'
Hedwig gave a muffled hooting noise, her beak still full of frog.
'Get going, then,' said Harry.
She took off immediately. The moment she'd gone, Harry threw himself down on his bed
without undressing and stared at the dark ceiling. In addition to every other miserable
feeling, he now felt guilty that he'd been irritable with Hedwig; she was the only friend he
had at number four, Privet Drive. But he'd make it up to her when she came back with the
answers from Sirius, Ron and Hermione.
They were bound to write back quickly; they couldn't possibly ignore a Dementor attack.
He'd probably wake up tomorrow to three fat letters full of sympathy and plans for his
immediate removal to The Burrow. And with that comforting idea, sleep rolled over him,
stifling all further thought.
*
But Hedwig didn't return next morning. Harry spent the day in his bedroom, leaving it
only to go to the bathroom. Three times that day Aunt Petunia shoved food into his room
through the cat-flap Uncle Vernon had installed three summers ago. Every time Harry