Draco Malfoy had slid out from behind the door, followed by Crabbe and Goyle. His pale, pointed face was alight with malice.
“Afraid I’m going to have to dock a few points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff,” he drawled.
“You can’t take points from fellow prefects, Malfoy,” said Ernie at once.
“I know prefects can’t dock points from each other,” sneered Malfoy; Crabbe and Goyle sniggered. “But members of the Inquisitorial Squad —”
“The what?” said Hermione sharply.
“The Inquisitorial Squad, Granger,” said Malfoy, pointing toward a tiny silver I upon his robes just beneath his prefect’s badge. “A select group of students who are supportive of the Ministry of Magic, hand-picked by Professor Umbridge. Anyway, members of the Inquisitorial Squad do have the power to dock points. . . . So, Granger, I’ll have five from you for being rude about our new headmistress. . . . Macmillan, five for contradicting me. . . . Five because I don’t like you, Potter . . . Weasley, your shirt’s untucked, so I’ll have another five for that. . . . Oh yeah, I forgot, you’re a Mudblood, Granger, so ten for that . . .”
Ron pulled out his wand, but Hermione pushed it away, whispering, “Don’t!”
“Wise move, Granger,” breathed Malfoy. “New Head, new times . . . Be good now, Potty . . . Weasel King . . .”
He strode away, laughing heartily with Crabbe and Goyle.
“He was bluffing,” said Ernie, looking appalled. “He can’t be allowed to dock points . . . that would be ridiculous. . . . It would completely undermine the prefect system . . .”
But Harry, Ron, and Hermione had turned automatically toward the giant hourglasses set in niches along the wall behind them, which recorded the House points. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had been neck and neck in the lead that morning. Even as they watched, stones flew upward, reducing the amounts in the lower bulbs. In fact, the only glass that seemed unchanged was the emerald-filled one of Slytherin.
“Noticed, have you?” said Fred’s voice.
He and George had just come down the marble staircase and joined Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ernie in front of the hourglasses.
“Malfoy just docked us all about fifty points,” said Harry furiously, as they watched several more stones fly upward from the Gryffindor hourglass.
“Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break,” said George.
“What do you mean, ‘tried’?” said Ron quickly.
“He never managed to get all the words out,” said Fred, “due to the fact that we forced him headfirst into that Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor.”
Hermione looked very shocked.
“But you’ll get into terrible trouble!”
“Not until Montague reappears, and that could take weeks, I dunno where we sent him,” said Fred coolly. “Anyway . . . we’ve decided we don’t care about getting into trouble anymore.”
“Have you ever?” asked Hermione.
“’Course we have,” said George. “Never been expelled, have we?”
“We’ve always known where to draw the line,” said Fred.
“We might have put a toe across it occasionally,” said George.
“But we’ve always stopped short of causing real mayhem,” said Fred.
“But now?” said Ron tentatively.
“Well, now —” said George.
“— what with Dumbledore gone —” said Fred.
“— we reckon a bit of mayhem —” said George.
“— is exactly what our dear new Head deserves,” said Fred.
“You mustn’t!” whispered Hermione. “You really mustn’t! She’d love a reason to expel you!”
“You don’t get it, Hermione, do you?” said Fred, smiling at her. “We don’t care about staying anymore. We’d walk out right now if we weren’t determined to do our bit for Dumbledore first. So anyway,” he checked his watch, “phase one is about to begin. I’d get in the Great Hall for lunch if I were you, that way the teachers will see you can’t have had anything to do with it.”
“Anything to do with what?” said Hermione anxiously.
“You’ll see,” said George. “Run along, now.”
Fred and George turned away and disappeared in the swelling crowd descending the stairs toward lunch. Looking highly disconcerted, Ernie muttered something about unfinished Transfiguration homework and scurried away.
“I think we should get out of here, you know,” said Hermione nervously. “Just in case . . .”
“Yeah, all right,” said Ron, and the three of them moved toward the doors to the Great Hall, but Harry had barely glimpsed today’s ceiling of scudding white clouds when somebody tapped him on the shoulder and, turning, he found himself almost nose to nose with Filch, the caretaker. He took several hasty steps backward; Filch was best viewed at a distance.
“The headmistress would like to see you, Potter,” he leered.
“I didn’t do it,” said Harry stupidly, thinking of whatever Fred and George were planning. Filch’s jowls wobbled with silent laughter.
“Guilty conscience, eh?” he wheezed. “Follow me . . .”
Harry glanced back at Ron and Hermione, who were both looking worried. He shrugged and followed Filch back into the entrance hall, against the tide of hungry students.
Filch seemed to be in an extremely good mood; he hummed creakily under his breath as they climbed the marble staircase. As they reached the first landing he said, “Things are changing around here, Potter.”
“I’ve noticed,” said Harry coldly.