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The day before the match, the winds reached howling point and the rain fell harder than ever. It was so dark inside the corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns were lit. The Slytherin team was looking very smug indeed, and none more so than Malfoy.

January faded imperceptibly into February, with no change in the bitterly cold weather. The match against Ravenclaw was drawing nearer and nearer, but Harry still hadn't ordered a new broom. He was now asking Professor McGonagall for news of the Firebolt after every Transfiguration lesson, Ron standing hopefully at his shoulder, Hermione rushing past with her face averted.

¡°There!¡± said Pettigrew shrilly, pointing at Ron with his maimed hand. ¡°Thank you! You see, Remus? I have never hurt a hair of Harry's head! Why should I?¡±

¡°Yes,¡± said Harry, ¡°I need ¡ª¡±

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