f their footsteps. He, too, broke off in mid-conversation, his cold grey eyes narrowed and fixed upon Harry's face. 
'Well, well, well: Patronus Potter,' said Lucius Malfoy coolly. 
Harry felt winded, as though he had just walked into something solid. He had last seen those cold grey eyes through slits in a Death Eaters hood, and last heard that man's voice jeering in a dark graveyard while Lord Voldemort tortured him. Harry could not believe that Lucius Malfoy dared look him in the face; he could not believe that he was here, in the Ministry of Magic, or that Cornelius Fudge was talking to him, when Harry had told Fudge mere weeks ago that Malfoy was a Death Eater. 
The Minister was just telling me about your lucky escape, Potter,' drawled Mr Malfoy. 'Quite astonishing, the way you con-tinue to wriggle out of very tight holes: snakelike, in fact.' 

Mr Weasley gripped Harry's shoulder in warning. 
'Yeah,' said Harry, 'yeah, I'm good at escaping.' 

Lucius Malfoy raised his eyes to Mr Weasley's face. 
'And Arthur Weasley too! What are you doing here, Arthur?' 

'I work here,' said Mr Weasley curtly. 
'Not here, surely?' said Mr Malfoy, raising his eyebrows and glancing towards the door over Mr Weasley's shoulder. 'I thought you were up on the second floor: don't you do something that involves sneaking Muggle artefacts home and bewitch-ing them?' 

'No,' Mr Weasley snapped, his fingers now biting into Harry's shoulder. 
'What are you doing here, anyway?' Harry asked Lucius Malfoy. 
'I don't think private matters between myself and the Minister are any concern of yours, Potter,' said Malfoy, smoothing the front of his robes. Harry distinctly heard the gentle clinking of what sounded like a full pocket of gold. 'Really, just because you are Dumbledore's favourite boy, you must not expect the same indulgence from the rest of us: shall we go up to your of-fice, then, Minister?' 

'Certainly' said Fudge, turning his back on Harry and Mr Weasley. This way, Lucius.' 

They strode off together, talking in low voices. Mr Weasley did not let go of Harry's shoulder until they had disappeared into the lift. 
'Why wasn't he waiting outside Fudge's office if they've got business to do together?' Harry burst out furiously. 'What was he doing down here?' 

'Trying to sneak down to the courtroom, if you ask me,' said Mr Weasley, looking extremely agitated and glancing over his shoulder as though making sure they could not be overheard. Trying to find out whether you'd been expelled or not. I'll leave a note for Dumbledore when I drop you off, he ought to know Malfoys been talking to Fudge again.' 

'What private business have they got together, anyway?' 

'Gold, I expect,' said Mr Weasley angrily. 'Malfoy's been giving generously to all sorts of things for years: gets him in with the right people: then he can ask favours: delay laws he doesn't want passed: oh, he's very well-connected, Lucius Malfoy.' 

The lift arrived; it was empty except for a flock of memos that flapped around Mr Weasley's head as he pressed the button for the Atrium and the doors clanged shut. He waved them away irritably. 
'Mr Weasley' said Harry slowly, 'if Fudge is meeting Death Eaters like Malfoy, if he's seeing them alone, how do we know they haven't put the Imperius Curse on him?' 

'Don't think it hasn't occurred to us, Harry' said Mr Weasley quietly. 'But Dumbledore thinks Fudge is acting of his own ac-cord at the moment - which, as Dumbledore says, is not a lot of comfort. Best not talk about it any more just now, Harry.' 

The doors slid open and they stepped out into the now almost-deserted Atrium. Eric the watchwizard was hidden behind his Daily Prophet again. They had walked straight past the golden fountain before Harry remembered. 
'Wait:' he told Mr Weasley, and, pulling his moneybag from his pocket, he turned back to the fountain. 
He looked up into the handsome wizard's face, but close-to Harry thought he looked rather weak and foolish. The witch was wearing a vapid smile like a beauty contestant, and from what Harry knew of goblins and centaurs, they were most unlikely to be caught staring so soppily at humans of any description. Only the house-elf's attitude of creeping servility looked convincing. With a grin at the thought of what Hermione would say if she could see the statue of the elf, Harry turned his mon-eybag upside-down and emptied not just ten Galleons, but the whole contents into the pool. 
* * * 

'I knew it!' yelled Ron, punching the air. 'You always get away with stuff!' 

They were bound to clear you,' said Hermione, who had looked positively faint with anxiety when Harry had entered the kitchen and was now holding a shaking hand over her eyes, 'there was no case against you, none at all.' 

'Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering you all knew I'd get off,' said Harry, smiling. 
Mrs Weasley was wiping her face on her apron, and Fred, George and Ginny were doing a kind of war dance to a chant that went: 'He got off, he got off, he got off:" 

That's enough! Settle down!' shouted Mr Weasley, though he too was smiling. 'Listen, Sirius, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry -' 

'What?' said Sirius sharply. 
'He got off, he got off, he got off:" 

'Be quiet, you three! Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on Level Nine, then they went up to Fudge's office together. Dum-bledore ought to know.' 

'Absolutely,' said Sirius. 'We'll tell him, don't worry.' 

'Well, I'd better get going, there's a vomiting toilet waiting for me in Bethnal Green. Molly, I'll be late, I'm covering for Tonks, but Kingsley might be dropping in for dinner -' 

'He got off, he got off, he got off:" 

That's enough - Fred - George - Ginny!' said Mrs Weasley, as Mr Weasley left the kitchen. 'Harry, dear, come and sit down, have some lunch, you hardly ate breakfast.' 

Ron and Hermione sat themselves down opposite him, looking happier than they had done since he had first arrived at Grimmauld Place, and Harry's feeling of giddy relief, which had been somewhat dented by his encounter with Lucius Malfoy, swelled again. The gloomy house seemed warmer and more welcoming all of a sudden; even Kreacher looked less ugly as he poked his snoutlike nose into the kitchen to investigate the source of all the noise. 
'Course, once Dumbledore turned up on your side, there was no way they were going to convict you,' said Ron happily, now dishing great mounds of mashed potato on to everyone's plates. 
'Yeah, he swung it for me,' said Harry. He felt it would sound highly ungrateful, not to mention childish, to say, 'I wish he'd talked to me, though. Or even looked at me.' 

And as he thought this, the scar on his forehead burned so badly that he clapped his hand to it. 
'What's up?' said Hermione, looking alarmed. 
'Scar,' Harry mumbled. 'But it's nothing: it happens all the time now:' 

None of the others had noticed a thing; all of them were now helping themselves to food while gloating over Harry's nar-row escape; Fred, George and Ginny were still singing. Hermione looked rather anxious, but before she could say anything, Ron had said happily, 'I bet Dumbledore turns up this evening, to celebrate with us, you know.' 

'I don't think he'll be able to, Ron,' said Mrs Weasley, setting a huge plate of roast chicken down in front of Harry. 'He's really very busy at the moment.' 

'HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF 

'SHUT UP!' roared Mrs Weasley. 
* * * 

Over the next few days Harry could not help noticing that there was one person within number twelve, Grimmauld Place, who did not seem wholly overjoyed that he would be returning to Hogwarts. Sirius had put up a very good show of happiness on first hearing the news, wringing Harry's hand and beaming just like the rest of them. Soon, however, he was moodier and surlier than before, talking less to everybody, even Harry, and spending increasing amounts of time shut up in his mother's room with Buckbeak. 
'Don't you go feeling guilty!' said Hermione sternly, after Harry had confided some of his feelings to her and Ron while they scrubbed out a mouldy cupboard on the third floor a few days later. 'You belong at Hogwarts and Sirius knows it. Person-ally, I think he's being selfish.' 

That's a bit harsh, Hermione,' said Ron, frowning as he attempted to prise off a bit of mould that had attached itself firmly to his finger, 'you wouldn't want to be stuck inside this house without any company.' 

'He'll have company!' said Hermione. 'It's Headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, isn't it? He just got his hopes up that Harry would be coming to live here with him.' 

'I don't think that's true', said Harry, wringing out his cloth. 'He wouldn't give me a straight answer when I asked him if I could.' 

'He just didn't want to get his own hopes up even more,' said Hermione wisely. 'And he probably felt a bit guilty himself, because I think a part of him was really hoping you'd be expelled. Then you'd both be outcasts together.' 

'Come off it!' said Harry and Ron together, but Hermione merely shrugged. 
'Suit yourselves. But I sometimes think Ron's mum's right and Sirius gets confused about whether you're you or your father, Harry.' 

'So you think he's touched in the head?' said Harry heatedly. 
'No, I just think he's been very lonely for a long time,' said Hermione simply. 
At this point, Mrs Weasley entered the bedroom behind them. 
'Still not finished?' she said, poking her head into the cupboard. 
'I thought you might be here to tell us to have a break!' said Ron bitterly. 'D'you know how much mould we've got rid of since we arrived here?' 

'You were so keen to help the Order,' said Mrs Weasley, 'you can do your bit by making Headquarters fit to live in.' 

'I feel like a house-elf,' grumbled Ron. 
'Well, now you understand what dreadful lives they lead, perhaps you'll be a bit more active in SPEW!' said Hermione hopefully, 