THE MAN
WITH TWO FACES
shaking Professor McGonagall’s hand, with a horrible, forced
smile. He caught Harry’s eye and Harry knew at once that Snape’s
feelings toward him hadn’t changed one jot. This didn’t worry
Harry. It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year,
or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts.
It was the best evening of Harry’s life, better than winning at
Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls . . . he
would never, ever forget tonight.
Harry had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to
come, but come they did. To their great surprise , both he and Ron
passed with good marks; Hermione, of course, had the best grades
of the first years. Even Neville scraped through, his good Herbol-
ogy mark making up for his abysmal Potions one. They had hoped
that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, might be
thrown out, but he had passed, too. It was a shame, but as Ron
said, you couldn’t have everything in life.
And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were
packed, Neville’s toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets;
notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use
magic over the holidays (“I always hope they’ll forget to give us
these,” said Fred Weasley sadly); Hagrid was there to take them
down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; they were
boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the coun-
tryside became greener and tidier; eating Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor
Beans as they sped past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard
robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine
and three-quarters at King’s Cross station.
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