He pushed his graying hair out of his eyes, thought for a moment then said, “That's where all of this starts — with my becoming a werewolf, None of this could have happened if I hadn't been bitter…and if I hadn't been so foolhardy…”

“Of course I don't,” said Harry.

“Okay,” she whispered, “no one there — cloak on —”

He took the Firebolt and, holding it as if it were made of glass, carried it away up the boys’ staircase.

“But I don't say so,” said Professor McGonagall, standing up and piling her papers neatly into a drawer. “The form clearly states that the parent or guardian must give permission.” She turned to look at him, with an odd expression on her face. Was it pity? “I'm sorry, Potter, but that's my final word. You had better hurry, or you'll be late for your next lesson.”

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