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Dear Mr. Potter,

"Yeh all righ', Harry? Yeh all righ'? Speak ter me, Harry. . .."

Professor McGonagall glared at him. "Potter" - Harry registered the renewed use of his surname - "in the light of Professor Dumbledore's death, I think you must see that the situation has changed somewhat -"

As Aunt Marge started to make herself at home, Harry caught himself thinking almost longingly of life at number four without her. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia usually encouraged Harry to stay out of their way, which Harry was only too happy to do. Aunt Marge, on the other hand, wanted Harry under her eye at all times, so that she could boom out suggestions for his improvement. She delighted in comparing Harry with Dudley, and took huge pleasure in buying Dudley expensive presents while glaring at Harry, as though daring him to ask why he hadn't got a present too. She also kept throwing out dark hints about what made Harry such an unsatisfactory person.

Of all the unusual things about Harry, this scar was the most extraordinary of all. It was not, as the Dursleys had pretended for ten years, a souvenir of the car crash that had killed Harry's parents, because Lily and James Potter had not died in a car crash. They had been murdered, murdered by the most feared Dark wizard for a hundred years, Lord Voldemort. Harry had escaped from the same attack with nothing more than a scar on his forehead, where Voldemort's curse, instead of killing him, had rebounded upon its originator. Barely alive, Voldemort had fled....

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Harry could tell that Uncle Vernon was thinking it over, even if his teeth were bared and a vein was throbbing in his temple.

'We decided to put the Dark Mark over the Tower and get you to hurry up here, to see who'd been killed,' said Malfoy. 'And it worked!'

"Yeh couldn' have."

Inside this, too, there was a wrapped present, a card, and a letter, this time from Hermione.

Madam Pomfrey burst into tears. Nobody paid her any attention except Ginny, who whispered, "Shh! Listen!"

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Harry felt a searing pain in his stomach at the sound of the name. In the silence and the stillness, horror rose inside him.

Harry couldn't see the point of trying to make his hair lie flat. Aunt Marge loved criticizing him, so the untidier he looked, the happier she would be.

"What, Voldemort?" said Harry, without thinking.

'Anyone else we know died?' Ron asked Hermione, who was perusing the Evening Prophet.

"Coward, did you call me, Potter?" shouted Snape. "Your father would never attack me unless it was four on one, what would you call him, I wonder?" "Stupe-"

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Harry's heart leapt: so these four had not eliminated all opposition, but merely broken through the fight to the top of the Tower, and, by the sound of it, created a barrier behind them -

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There was a deafening BANG, and Harry threw up his hands to shield his eyes against a sudden blinding light --

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"You thought I would not weesh to marry him? Or per'aps, you hoped?" said Fleur, her nostrils flaring. "What do I care how he looks? I am good-looking enough for both of us, I theenk! All these scars show is zat my husband is brave! And I shall do zat!" she added fiercely, pushing Mrs. Weasley aside and snatching the ointment from her.

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'So,' said Scrimgeour, his voice cold now, 'the request 1 made of you at Christmas -',

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"R.A.B.," whispered Ron, "but who was that?";

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