rd of the age, but that wasn't why Harry 
respected him. You couldn't help trusting Albus Dumbledore, and as Harry 
watched him beaming around at the students, he felt really calm for the 
first time since the dementor had entered the train compartment. 

"Welcome!" said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. 
"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you 
all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out 
of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast...." 

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As you will all be aware 
after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently 
playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on 
Ministry of Magic business." 

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He paused, and Harry remembered what Mr. Weasley had said about 
Dumbledore not being happy with the dementors guarding the school. 

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore 
continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody 
is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by 
tricks or disguises -- or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added blandly, 
and Harry and Ron glanced at each other. "It is not in the nature of a 
dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and 
every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the 
prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student 
runs afoul of the dementors," he said. 

Percy, who was sitting a few seats down from Harry, puffed out his chest 
again and stared around impressively. Dumbledore paused again; he looked 
very seriously around the hall, and nobody moved or made a sound. 

"On a happier note," he continued, I am pleased to welcome two new 
teachers to our ranks this year. 

"First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of 
Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." 

There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only those who 
had been in the compartment on the train with Professor Lupin clapped 
hard, Harry among them. Professor Lupin looked particularly shabby next 
to all the other teachers in their best robes. 

"Look at Snape!" Ron hissed in Harry's ear. 

Professor Snape, the Potions master, was staring along the staff table 
at Professor Lupin. It was common knowledge that Snape ,anted the 
Defense Against the Dark Arts job, but even Harry, who hated Snape, was 
startled at the expression twisting his thin, sallow face. it was beyond 
anger: it was loathing. Harry knew that expression only too well; it was 
the look Snape wore every time he set eyes on Harry. 

"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm 
applause for Professor Lupin died away. "Well, I am sorry to tell you 

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that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, 
retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his 
remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be 
filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this 
teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties." 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at one another, stunned. Then they 
joined in with the applause, which was tumultuous at the Gryffindor 
table in particular. Harry leaned forward to see Hagrid, who was 
ruby-red in the face and staring down at his enormous hands, his wide 
grin hidden in the tangle of his black beard. 

"We should've known!" Ron roared, pounding the table. "Who else would 
have assigned us a biting book?" 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the last to stop clapping, and as 
Professor Dumbledore started speaking again, they saw that Hagrid was 
wiping his eyes on the tablecloth. 

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore. "Let 
the feast begin!" 

The golden plates and goblets before them filled suddenly with food and 
drink. Harry, suddenly ravenous, helped himself to everything he could 
reach and began to eat. 

It was a delicious feast; the hall echoed with talk, laughter, and the 
clatter of knives and forks. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, were 
eager for it to finish so that they could talk to Hagrid. They knew how 
much being made a teacher would mean to him. Hagrid wasn't a fully 
qualified wizard; he had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year 
for a crime he had not committed. It had been Harry, Ron, and Hermione 
who had cleared Hagrid's name last year. 

At long last, when the last morsels of pumpkin tart had melted from the 
golden platters, Dumbledore gave the word that it was time for them all 
to go to bed, and they got their chance. 

"Congratulations, Hagrid!" Hermione squealed as they reached the 
teachers' table. 

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"All down ter you three," said Hagrid, wiping his shining face on his 
napkin as he looked up at them., "Can' believe it... great man, 
Dumbledore... came straight down to me hut after Professor Kettleburn 
said he'd had enough.... It's what I always wanted. --" 

Overcome with emotion, he buried his face in his napkin, and Professor 
McGonagall shooed them away. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined the Gryffindors streaming up the marble 
staircase and, very tired now, along more corridors, UP more and more 
stairs, to the hidden entrance to Gryffindor Tower's large portrait of a 
fat lady in a pink dress asked them, "Password?" 

"Coming through, coming through!" Percy called from behind the crowd. 
"The new password's 'Fortuna Major'!" 

"Oh no," said Neville Longbottom sadly. He always had trouble 
remembering the passwords. 

Through the portrait hole and across the common room, the girls and boys 
divided toward their separate staircases. Harry climbed the spiral stair 
with no thought in his head except how glad he was to be back. They 
reached their familiar, circular dormitory with its five four-poster 
beds, and Harry, looking around, felt he was home at last. 

CHAPTER SIX 

TALONS AND TEA LEAVES 

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall for breakfast the 
next day, the first thing they saw was Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be 
entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. As 
they passed, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and 
there was a roar of laughter. 

"Ignore him," said Hermione, who was right behind Harry. "Just ignore 
him, it's not worth it...." 

"Hey, Potter!" shrieked Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl with a face 

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like a pug. "Potter! The dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooooo!" 

Harry dropped into a seat at the Gryffindor table, next to George 
Weasley. 

"New third-year course schedules," said George, passing then, over. 
"What's up with you, Harry?" 

"Malfoy," said Ron, sitting down on George's other side and glaring over 
at the Slytherin table. 

George looked up in time to see Malfoy pretending to faint with terror 
again. 

"That little git," he said calmly. "He wasn't so cocky last night when 
the dementors were down at our end of the train. Came runing into our 
compartment, didn't he, Fred?" 

"Nearly wet himself," said Fred, with a contemptuous glance at Malfoy. 

"I wasn't too happy myself," said George. "They're horrible things, 
those dementors...." 

"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" said Fred. 

"You didn't pass out, though, did you?" said Harry in a low voice. 

"Forget it, Harry," said George bracingly. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban 
one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever 
been, he came back all weak and shaking.... They suck the happiness out 
of a place, dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there." 

"Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch 
match," said Fred. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the 
season, remember?" 

The only time Harry and Malfoy had faced each other in a Quidditch 
match, Malfoy had definitely come off worse. Feeling slightly more 
cheerful, Harry helped himself to sausages and fried tomatoes. 

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Hermione was examining her new schedule. 

" Ooh, good, we're starting some new subjects today," she said happily. 
villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands! Come I. scorn 
at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!" 

They watched in astonishment as the little knight tugged his sword out 
of its scabbard and began brandishing it violently, hopping up and down 
in rage. But the sword was too long for him; a particularly wild swing 
made him overbalance, and he landed facedown in the grass. 

"Are you all right?" said Harry, moving closer to the picture. 

"Get back, you scurvy braggart! Back, you rogue!" 

The knight seized his sword again and used it to push himself back up, 
but the blade sank deeply into the grass and, though he pulled with all 
his might, he couldn't get it out again. Finally, he had to flop back 
down onto the grass and push up his visor to mop his sweating face. 

"Listen," said Harry, taking advantage of the knight's exhaustion, 
"we're looking for the North Tower. You don't know the way, do you?" 

"A quest!" The knight's rage seemed to vanish instantly. He clanked to 
his feet and shouted, "Come follow me, dear friends, and we shall find 
our goal, or else shall perish bravely in the charge!" 

He gave the sword another fruitless tug, tried and failed to mount the 
fat pony, gave up, and cried, "On foot then, good sirs and gentle lady! 
On! On!" 

And he ran, clanking loudly, into the left side of the frame and out of 
sight. 

They hurried after him along the corridor, following the sound of his 
armor. Every now and then they spotted him running through a picture 
ahead. 

"Be of stout heart, the worst is yet to come!" 