He could see Mrs. Weasley and the grim-faced Auror casting the pair of them suspicious looks as they moved away.
“When we were in Diagon Alley,” Harry began, but Mr. Weasley forestalled him with a grimace.
“Am I about to discover where you, Ron, and Hermione disappeared to while you were supposed to be in the back room of Fred and George’s shop?”
“How did you — ?”
“Harry, please. You’re talking to the man who raised Fred and George.”
“Er . . . yeah, all right, we weren’t in the back room.”
“Very well, then, let’s hear the worst.”
“Well, we followed Draco Malfoy. We used my Invisibility Cloak.”
“Did you have any particular reason for doing so, or was it a mere whim?”
“Because I thought Malfoy was up to something,” said Harry, disregarding Mr. Weasley’s look of mingled exasperation and amusement. “He’d given his mother the slip and I wanted to know why.”
“Of course you did,” said Mr. Weasley, sounding resigned. “Well? Did you find out why?”
“He went into Borgin and Burkes,” said Harry, “and started bullying the bloke in there, Borgin, to help him fix something. And he said he wanted Borgin to keep something else for him. He made it sound like it was the same kind of thing that needed fixing. Like they were a pair. And . . .”
Harry took a deep breath.
“There’s something else. We saw Malfoy jump about a mile when Madam Malkin tried to touch his left arm. I think he’s been branded with the Dark Mark. I think he’s replaced his father as a Death Eater.”
Mr. Weasley looked taken aback. After a moment he said, “Harry, I doubt whether You-Know-Who would allow a sixteen-year-old —”
“Does anyone really know what You-Know-Who would or wouldn’t do?” asked Harry angrily. “Mr. Weasley, I’m sorry, but isn’t it worth investigating? If Malfoy wants something fixing, and he needs to threaten Borgin to get it done, it’s probably something Dark or dangerous, isn’t it?”
“I doubt it, to be honest, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley slowly. “You see, when Lucius Malfoy was arrested, we raided his house. We took away everything that might have been dangerous.”
“I think you missed something,” said Harry stubbornly.
“Well, maybe,” said Mr. Weasley, but Harry could tell that Mr. Weasley was humoring him.
There was a whistle behind them; nearly everyone had boarded the train and the doors were closing.
“You’d better hurry,” said Mr. Weasley, as Mrs. Weasley cried, “Harry, quickly!”
He hurried forward and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley helped him load his trunk onto the train.
“Now, dear, you’re coming to us for Christmas, it’s all fixed with Dumbledore, so we’ll see you quite soon,” said Mrs. Weasley through the window, as Harry slammed the door shut behind him and the train began to move. “You make sure you look after yourself and —”
The train was gathering speed.
“— be good and —”
She was jogging to keep up now.
“— stay safe!”
Harry waved until the train had turned a corner and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were lost to view, then turned to see where the others had got to. He supposed Ron and Hermione were cloistered in the prefects’ carriage, but Ginny was a little way along the corridor, chatting to some friends. He made his way toward her, dragging his trunk.
People stared shamelessly as he approached. They even pressed their faces against the windows of their compartments to get a look at him. He had expected an upswing in the amount of gaping and gawping he would have to endure this term after all the “Chosen One” rumors in the Daily Prophet, but he did not enjoy the sensation of standing in a very bright spotlight. He tapped Ginny on the shoulder.
“Fancy trying to find a compartment?”
“I can’t, Harry, I said I’d meet Dean,” said Ginny brightly. “See you later.”
“Right,” said Harry. He felt a strange twinge of annoyance as she walked away, her long red hair dancing behind her; he had become so used to her presence over the summer that he had almost forgotten that Ginny did not hang around with him, Ron, and Hermione while at school. Then he blinked and looked around: He was surrounded by mesmerized girls.
“Hi, Harry!” said a familiar voice from behind him.
“Neville!” said Harry in relief, turning to see a round-faced boy struggling toward him.
“Hello, Harry,” said a girl with long hair and large misty eyes, who was just behind Neville.
“Luna, hi, how are you?”
“Very well, thank you,” said Luna. She was clutching a magazine to her chest; large letters on the front announced that there was a pair of free Spectrespecs inside.
“Quibbler still going strong, then?” asked Harry, who felt a certain fondness for the magazine, having given it an exclusive interview the previous year.
“Oh yes, circulation’s well up,” said Luna happily.
“Let’s find seats,” said Harry, and the three of them set off along the train through hordes of silently staring students. At last they found an empty compartment, and Harry hurried inside gratefully.
“They’re even staring at us!” said Neville, indicating himself and Luna. “Because we’re with you!”
“They’re staring at you because you were at the Ministry too,” said Harry, as he hoisted his trunk into the luggage rack. “Our little adventure there was all over the Daily Prophet, you must’ve seen it.”
“Yes, I thought Gran would be angry about all the publicity,” said Neville, “but she was really pleased. Says I’m starting to live up to my dad at long last. She bought me a new wand, look!”
He pulled it out and showed it to Harry.
“Cherry and unicorn hair,” he said proudly. “We think it was one of the last Ollivander ever sold, he vanished next day — oi, come back here, Trevor!”
And he dived under the seat to retrieve his toad as it made one of its frequent bids for freedom.