CHAPTER TEN
“It’s no wonder no one can stand her,” he said to Harry as they
pushed their way into the crowded corridor, “she’s a nightmare,
honestly.”
Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was
Hermione. Harry caught a glimpse of her face — and was startled
to see that she was in tears.
“I think she heard you.”
“So?” said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. “She must’ve
noticed she’s got no friends.”
Hermione didn’t turn up for the next class and wasn’t seen all af-
ternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween
feast, Harry and Ron overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend
Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls’ bathroom and
wanted to be left alone. Ron looked still more awkward at this, but
a moment later they had entered the Great Hall, where the Hal-
loween decorations put Hermione out of their minds.
A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a
thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, mak-
ing the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared sud-
denly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.
Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor
Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror
on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore’s
chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, “Troll — in the dun-
geons — thought you ought to know.”
He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.
There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers explod-
ing from the end of Professor Dumbledore’s wand to bring silence.
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