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o。 Sure enough； when Harry finally entered the room Ron was snoring a little too loudly to be entirely plausible。
Harry got into bed； thinking about the match。 It had been immensely frustrating watching from the sidelines。 He was quite impressed by Ginny's performance but he knew if he had been playing he could have caught the Snitch sooner： there had been a moment when it had been fluttering near Kirke's ankle； if Ginny hadn't hesitated； she might have been able to scrape a win for Gryffindor。
Umbridge had been sitting a few rows below Harry and Hermione。 Once or twice she had turned squatly in her seat to look at him； her wide toad's mouth stretched in what he thought had been a gloating smile。 The memory of it made him feel hot with anger as he lay there in the dark。 After a few minutes； however； he remembered that he was supposed to be emptying his mind of all emotion before he slept； as Snape kept instructing him at the end of every Occlumency lesson。
He tried for a moment or two； but the thought of Snape on top of memories of Umbridge merely increased his sense of grumbling resentment and he found himself focusing instead on how much he loathed the pair of them。 Slowly； Ron's snores died away； to be replaced by the sound of deep； slow breathing。 It took Harry much longer to get to sleep； his body was tired； but it took his brain a long time to close down。
He dreamed that Neville and Professor Sprout were waltzing around the Room of Requirement while Professor McGonagall played the bagpipes。 He watched them happily for a while； then decided to go and find the other members of the DA。
But when he left the room he found himself facing； not the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy； but a torch burning in its bracket on a stone wall。 He turned his head slowly to the left。 There； at the far end of the windowless passage； was a plain； black door。
He walked towards it with a sense of mounting excitement。 He had the strangest feeling that this time he was going to get lucky at last； and find the way to open it： he was feet from it； and saw with a leap of excitement that there was a glowing strip of faint blue light down the right…hand side： the door was ajar： he stretched out his hand to push it wide and …
Ron gave a loud； rasping； genuine snore and Harry awoke abruptly with his right hand stretched in front of him in the darkness； to open a door that was hundreds of miles away。 He let it fall with a feeling of mingled disappointment and guilt。 He knew he should not have seen the door； but at the same time felt so consumed with curiosity about what was behind it that he could not help feeling annoyed with Ron： if only he could have saved his snore for just another minute。
* * *
They entered the Great Hall for breakfast at exactly the same moment as the post owls on Monday morning。 Hermione was not the only person eagerly awaiting her Daily Prophet： nearly everyone was eager for more news about the escaped Death Eaters； who； despite many reported sightings； had still not been caught。 She gave the delivery owl a Knut and unfolded the newspaper eagerly while Harry helped himself to orange juice； as he had only received one note during the entire year； he was sure； when the first owl landed with a thud in front of him； that it had made a mistake。
'Who're you after？' he asked it； languidly removing his orange juice from underneath its beak and leaning forwards to see the recipient's name and address：
Harry Potter Great Hall Hogwarts School
Frowning； he made to take the letter from the owl； but before he could do so； three； four； five more owls had fluttered down beside it and were jockeying for position； treading in the butter and knocking over the salt as each one attempted to give him their letter first。
'What's going on？' Ron asked in amazement； as the whole of Gryffindor table leaned forwards to watch and another seven owls landed amongst the first ones； screeching； hooting and flapping their wings。
'Harry！' said Hermione breathlessly； plunging her hands into the feathery mass and pulling out a screech owl bearing a long； cylindrical package。 'I think I know what this means … open this one first！'
Harry ripped off the brown packaging。 Out rolled a tightly furled copy of the March edition of The Quibbler。 He unrolled it to see his own face grinning sheepishly at him from the front cover。 In large red letters across this picture were the words：
SPEAKS OUT AT LAST：
THE TRUTH ABOUT HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED
AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN
'It's good； isn't it？' said Luna； who had drifted over to the Gryffindor table and now squeezed herself on to the bench between Fred and Ron。 'It came out yesterday； I asked Dad to send you a free copy。 I expect all these；' she waved a hand at the assembled owls still scrabbling around on the table in front of Harry； 'are letters from readers。'
That's what I thought；' said Hermione eagerly。 'Harry； d'you mind if we …？'
'Help yourself；' said Harry； feeling slightly bemused。
Ron and Hermione both started ripping open envelopes。
This one's from a bloke who thinks you're off your rocker；' said Ron； glancing down his letter。 'Ah well：'
This woman remends you try a good course of Shock Spells at St Mungo's；' said Hermione； looking disappointed and crumpling up a second。
This one looks OK； though；' said Harry slowly； scanning a long letter from a witch in Paisley。 'Hey； she says she believes me！'
This one's in two minds；' said Fred； who had joined in the letter…opening with enthusiasm。 'Says you don't e across as a mad person； but he really doesn't want to believe You…Know…Who's back so he doesn't know what to think now。 Blimey； what a waste of parchment。'
'Here's another one you've convinced； Harry！' said Hermione excitedly。 'Having read your side of the story； I am forced to the conclusion that the Daily Prophet has treated you very unfairly： little though I want to think that He Who Must Not Be Named has returned； I am forced to accept that you are telling the truth： Oh； this is wonderful！'
'Another one who thinks you're barking；' said Ron； throwing a crumpled letter over his shoulder '： but this one says you've got her converted and she now thinks you're a real hero … she's put in a photograph； too … wow！'
'What is going on here？' said a falsely sweet； girlish voice。
Harry looked up with his hands full of envelopes。 Professor Umbridge was standing behind Fred and Luna； her bulging toad's eyes scanning the mess of owls and letters on the table in front of Harry。 Behind her he saw many of the students watching them avidly。
Why have you got all these letters； Mr Potter？' she asked slowly。
'Is that a crime now？' said Fred loudly。 'Getting mail？'
'Be careful； Mr Weasley； or I shall have to put you in detention；' said Umbridge。 'Well； Mr Potter？'
Harry hesitated； but he did not see how he could keep what he had done quiet； it was surely only a matter of time before a copy of The Quibbler came to Umbridge's attention。
'People have written to me because I gave an interview；' said Harry。 'About what h