Harry had been in here only once before, and he had been in very serious trouble then too. Snape had acquired a few more slimy horrible things in jars since last time, all standing on shelves behind his desk, glinting in the firelight and adding to the threatening atmosphere.

Barely two minutes later, the castle doors flew open yet again, and Snape came charging out of them, running toward the Willow.

“The point is,” Wood went on, resuming his pacing, “the Quidditch Cup should have had our name on it these last two years. Ever since Harry joined the team, I've thought the thing was in the bag. But we haven't got it, and this year's the last chance we'll get to finally see our name on the thing…”

“This is where we was before you flagged us down,” he said. “Where are we, Ern? Somewhere in Wales?”

Harry put his face to his knees, his hands gripping his hair. Fred grabbed his shoulder and shook it roughly.

Something silver-white, something enormous, erupted from the end of his wand. He knew it had shot directly at the Dementors but didn't pause to watch; his mind still miraculously clear, he looked ahead — he was nearly there. He stretched out the hand still grasping his wand and just managed to close his fingers over the small, struggling Snitch.

With every ounce of strength he could muster, Harry raised his head a few inches and saw an animal amid the light, galloping away across the lake… Eyes blurred with sweat, Harry tried to make out what it was… It was as bright as a unicorn… Fighting to stay conscious, Harry watched it can'ter to a halt as it reached the opposite shore. For a moment, Harry saw, by its brightness, somebody welcoming it back… raising his hand to pat it… someone who looked strangely familiar… but it couldn't be…

“I hope you're well?” said Percy pompously, shaking hands. It was rather like being introduced to the mayor.

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