Peeves Makes His Move

The autumn afternoon lay gloomily over Hogwarts Castle, as still as a pool of stagnant water.

Ruby had returned once, then disappeared again. Rumor had it that she had eaten a great deal of food from the Great Hall before leaving.

In Gryffindor's Common Room, the fire crackled merrily, its leaping flames struggling to drive away the damp chill permeating the air.

Harry and Ron were curled up in chairs beside the long table. Rather than sitting in them, they seemed to have sunk into them completely, like two lifeless rag dolls.

An enormous History of Magic textbook lay open in front of them. Several sheets of parchment were spread beside it, the ink bottle stood uncorked, and the quill rested carelessly to one side, the ink on its tip long since dried. It seemed no one had touched it for a very long time.

They had barely begun their homework.

For many days now, both of them had looked as though their souls had been sucked out. A visibly dispirited air hung around them, making people reluctant to approach.

Harry's mind repeatedly replayed Umbridge's public execution of him on the Quidditch pitch that day. Every word had stabbed into his heart like a dagger: "Mr. Potter, in view of your extremely violent and irresponsible behavior, I hereby announce that you are permanently banned from participating in Quidditch matches."

"Permanently banned" weighed on his chest like the cold, endless mountains north of the castle, leaving him unable to breathe.

He couldn't help thinking of his Firebolt, the broom that had once brought him so much freedom and joy. At that moment, it seemed to be giving off a silent wail from inside its trunk in the dormitory.

The sky, the wind, the exhilarating feeling of losing himself while chasing the