She turned on her heel and hurried away.
'Quills down, please!' squeaked Professor Flitwick. That means you too, Stebbins! Please remain seated while I collect your parchment! Accio!'
'Apologise to Evans!' James roared at Snape, his wand pointed threateningly at him.
'Did you like question ten, Moony?' asked Sirius as they emerged into the Entrance Hall.
'I daresay you'll find you can,' said Professor McGonagall through tightly gritted teeth.
Snape reacted so fast it was as though he had been expecting an attack: dropping his bag, he plunged his hand inside his robes and his wand was halfway into the air when James shouted, 'Expelliarmus!'
Harry walked the remaining few feet to the Pensieve and stood over it, gazing into its depths. He hesitated, listening, then pulled out his wand again. The office and the corridor beyond were completely silent. He gave the contents of the Pensieve a small prod with the end of his wand.
Harry looked around and glimpsed Snape a short way away, moving between the tables towards the doors to the Entrance Hall, still absorbed in his own exam paper. Round-shouldered yet angular, he walked in a twitchy manner that recalled a spider, and his oily hair was jumping about his face.
'I'm bored,' said Sirius. 'Wish it was full moon.'
It was the first day of the Easter holidays and Hermione, as was her custom, had spent a large part of the day drawing up revision timetables for the three of them. Harry and Ron had let her do it; ii. was easier than arguing with her and, in any case, they might come in useful.
'False hope?' repeated Professor McGonagall, still refusing to look round at Professor Umbridge. 'He has achieved high marks in all his Defence Against the Dark Arts tests - '
'It's Easter eggs from Mum,' said Ginny. There's one for you . . . there you go.'
'Well, I thought that paper was a piece of cake,' he heard Sir us say. 'I'll be surprised if I don't get "Outstanding" on it at least.'
Professor Umbridge stood up. She was so short that this did not make a great deal of difference, but her fussy, simpering demeanour had given place to a hard fury that made her broad, flabby face look oddly sinister.
She handed him a handsome chocolate egg decorated with small, iced Snitches and, according to the packaging, containing a bag of Fizzing Whizzbees. Harry looked at it for a moment, then, to his horror, felt a lump rise in his throat.
He had been thinking about it for a fortnight and could come up with no alternative. Umbridge herself had told him that the only fire that was not being watched was her own.