Chapter 6

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When Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the first thing we saw was Draco, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. As we passed, Draco 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 like a pug. "Potter! The Dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooooo!"

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

"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 Draco 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 running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"

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

"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, Seraphine," 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 Draco had faced each other in a Quidditch match, Draco had definitely come off worse. Looking slightly more cheerful, Harry helped himself to sausages and fried tomatoes.

Hermione was examining her new schedule.

"Ooh, good, we're starting some new subjects today," she said happily.

"Hermione," said Ron, frowning as he looked over her shoulder, "they've messed up your timetable. Look -- they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough time. Hey! They did the same thing with yours Seraphine!"

"We'll manage. We've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

"But look," said Ron, laughing, "see this morning? Nine o'clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And --" Ron leaned closer to the timetable, disbelieving, "look -- underneath that, Arithmancy, nine o'clock. I mean, I know you're good, Hermione, Seraphine, but no one's that good. How're you two supposed to be in three classes at once?"

"Don't be silly," said Hermione shortly. "Of course we won't be in three classes at once."

"Well then --"

"Pass the marmalade," said Hermione.

"But --"

"Oh, Ron, what's it to you if our timetable's are a bit full?" Hermione snapped. "I told you, we've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

Just then, Hagrid entered the Great Hall. He was wearing his long moleskin overcoat and was absent-mindedly swinging a dead polecat from one enormous hand.

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