Harry shrugged.

Harry shrugged.

‘It'll all be over soon,’ Mr. Weasley said bracingly. ‘In a few hours’ time you'll be cleared.’

Harry said nothing.

‘The hearing's on my floor, in Amelia Bones's office. She's Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and she's the one who'll be questioning you.’

‘Amelia Bones is OK, Harry,’ said Tonks earnestly. ‘She's fair, she'll hear you out.’

Harry nodded, still unable to think of anything to say.

‘Don't lose your temper,’ said Sirius abruptly. ‘Be polite and stick to the facts.’

Harry nodded again.

‘The law's on your side,’ said Lupin quietly. ‘Even underage wizards are allowed to use magic in life-threatening situations.’

Something very cold trickled down the back of Harry's neck; for a moment he thought someone was putting a Disillusionment Charm on him, then he realised that Mrs. Weasley was attacking his hair with a wet comb. She pressed hard on the top of his head.

‘Doesn't it ever lie flat?’ she said desperately.

Harry shook his head.

‘Mr. Weasley checked his watch and looked up at Harry. I think we'll go now,’ he said. ‘We're a bit early, but I think you'll be better off at the Ministry than hanging around here.’

‘OK,’ said Harry automatically, dropping his toast and getting to his feet.

‘You'll be all right, Harry,’ said Tonks, patting him on the arm.

‘Good luck,’ said Lupin. ‘I'm sure it will be fine.’

‘And if it's not,’ said Sirius grimly, ‘I'll see to Amelia Bones for you....’

Harry smiled weakly. Mrs. Weasley hugged him.

‘We've all got our fingers crossed,’ she said.

‘Right,’ said Harry. ‘Well ... see you later then.’

He followed Mr. Weasley upstairs and along the hall. He could hear Sirius's mother grunting in her sleep behind her curtains. Mr. Weasley unbolted the door and they stepped out into the cold, grey dawn.

‘You don't normally walk to work, do you?’ Harry asked him, as they set off briskly around the square.

‘No, I usually Apparate,’ said Mr. Weasley, ‘but obviously you can't, and I think it's best we arrive in a thoroughly non-magical fashion ... makes a better impression, given what you're being disciplined for....’

Mr. Weasley kept his hand inside his jacket as they walked. Harry knew it was clenched around his wand. The run-down streets were almost deserted, but when they arrived at the miserable little underground station they found it already lull of early-morning commuters. As ever when he found himself in close proximity to Muggles going about their daily business, Mr. Weasley was hard put to contain his enthusiasm.