THE MIDNIGHT DUEL
was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he
opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.
A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grand-
mother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the
size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.
“It’s a Remembrall!” he explained. “Gran knows I forget
things — this tells you if there’s something you’ve forgotten to do.
Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red — oh . . .” His
face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet,
“. . . you’ve forgotten something . . .”
Neville was trying to remember what he’d forgotten when Draco
Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Re-
membrall out of his hand.
Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for
a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could
spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a
flash.
“What’s going on?”
“Malfoy’s got my Remembrall, Professor.”
Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the
table.
“Just looking,” he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and
Goyle behind him.
At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffin-
dors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first
flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under
their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a
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