Harry glanced sideways at Ron and Hermione. Both of them had their eyes open too, reflecting the starry ceiling.

Harry opened his eyes a fraction and squinted up to where they stood; Dumbledore's back was to him, but he could see Percy's face, rapt with attention, and Snape's profile, which looked angry.

Pettigrew had fallen to his knees as though Harry's nod had been his own death sentence. He shuffled forward on his knees, groveling, his hands clasped in front of him as though praying.

“She got a letter from home this morning,” Parvati whispered. “It's her rabbit, Binky. He's been killed by a fox.”

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