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¡°Turn out your pockets, Potter!¡± he spat suddenly.

Harry was staring at his plate, a funny ringing in his ears. Grasp your broom firmly by the tail, he thought. But he couldn't remember what came next. Aunt Marge's voice seemed to be boring into him like one of Uncle Vernon's drills.

¡°I see,¡± said Lupin, though he still looked slightly suspicious. ¡°Well ¡ª let's drink to a Gryffindor victory against Ravenclaw! Not that I'm supposed to take sides, as a teacher¡­¡± he added hastily.

¡°But I didn't do anything,¡± said Harry.

¡°I can't, Harry. I've still got four hundred and twenty-two pages to read!¡± said Hermione, now sounding slightly hysterical. ¡°Anyway¡­¡± She glanced over at Ron too. ¡°He doesn't want me to join in.¡±

Harry jerked back to life. He was lying flat on his back on the floor. The classroom lamps were alight again. He didn't have to ask what had happened.

¡°Your father didn't set much store by rules either,¡± Snape went on, pressing his advantage, his thin face full of malice. ¡°Rules were for lesser mortals, not Quidditch Cup-winners. His head was so swollen ¡ª¡±

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