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Harry stared. Lying in a crumpled heap on the ground were Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Marcus Flint, the Slytherin team Captain, all struggling to remove themselves from long, black, hooded robes. It looked as though Malfoy had been standing on Goyle's shoulders. Standing over them, with an expression of the utmost fury on her face, was Professor McGonagall.

¡°We've come to give you a bit of festive cheer before we go,¡± said Fred, with a mysterious wink. ¡°Come in here¡­¡±

¡°That, indeed, is Black's story,¡± said Dumbledore, surveying Snape closely through his half-moon spectacles.

¡°I've lost the passwords!¡± Neville told them miserably. ¡°I made him tell me what passwords he was going to use this week, because he keeps changing them, and now I don't know what I've done with them!¡±

But Dumbledore held up his hand to stem the flood of explanations.


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