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"Nope," said Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

At last she found what she was looking for.

"Half-past eleven," Ron muttered at last, "we'd better go."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.

Percy was in his element.

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"Of course there are," said Ron. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."

Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

Harry had difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron to read.

Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Harry.

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"

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Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section. He had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and he knew he'd never get one. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Out, Peeves!" she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two boys.

"You are not."

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."

"I found out something about him," he told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."