CHAPTER NINE
“Be quiet, Miss Patil —”
“But Malfoy —”
“That’s enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now.”
Harry caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle’s triumphant
faces as he left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall’s wake as
she strode toward the castle. He was going to be expelled, he just
knew it. He wanted to say something to defend himself, but there
seemed to be something wrong with his voice. Professor McGona-
gall was sweeping along without even looking at him; he had to jog
to keep up. Now he’d done it. He hadn’t even lasted two weeks.
He’d be packing his bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys
say when he turned up on the doorstep?
Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Pro-
fessor McGonagall didn’t say a word to him. She wrenched open
doors and marched along corridors with Harry trotting miserably
behind her. Maybe she was taking him to Dumbledore. He thought
of Hagrid, expelled but allowed to stay on as gamekeeper. Perhaps
he could be Hagrid’s assistant. His stomach twisted as he imagined
it, watching Ron and the others becoming wizards while he
stumped around the grounds carrying Hagrid’s bag.
Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened
the door and poked her head inside.
“Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a mo-
ment?”
Wood? thought Harry, bewildered; was Wood a cane she was go-
ing to use on him?
But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth-year boy who
came out of Flitwick’s class looking confused.
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