On October 30, the sky was rather overcast, and the weather had grown chilly at Hogwarts, high in the Highlands.
Today was the day the other four great Magic Academies would arrive at Hogwarts.
To welcome their foreign guests, the school canceled afternoon classes, giving the young wizards time after lunch to tidy themselves up before gathering punctually at the school gates at five.
In the Hospital Wing.
After straightening his clothes in his dormitory, Harry came to visit Sirius.
He hoped to persuade his godfather to join the welcome that afternoon and get out for a change.
Sirius was now practically a disabled ordinary person, utterly withdrawn and despondent.
Carrying a set of clean clothes and some food, Harry was just about to enter the neat, spotless ward when he heard something shatter inside, followed by an argument.
Crash!
"Get out! Don't touch me with your filthy paws, you lowly house-elf!"
"What have you got to be so proud of? If the Headmaster hadn't ordered us to look after you, a house-elf who serves wizards would never tend to a Squib like you!"
A Castle house-elf came out of the ward, grumbling curses.
Harry hastily gave the house-elf an apologetic nod, and the terrified elf Disapparated.
Harry sighed and stepped into the ward.
Several broken teacups lay on the floor.
His gaunt godfather was curled up on the hospital bed, an empty sleeve dangling over the edge where his arm had been amputated.
Harry's eyes grew moist. He set down the tray and cleaned the floor with Scourgify.
Then he went to the bedside, bent down, and called softly beside Sirius's ear.
"Sirius, it's time to eat..."
Sirius kept his eyes shut and gave no response. Even his breathing was so faint that he seemed dead.
Harry felt helpless,