Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan had reached the dormitory first and were in the process of covering the walls beside their beds with posters and photographs. They had been talking as Harry pushed open the door but stopped abruptly the moment they saw him. Harry wondered whether they had been talking about him, then whether he was being paranoid.

'Hi,' he said, moving across to his own trunk and opening it.

'Hey, Harry,' said Dean, who was putting on a pair of pyjamas in the West Ham colours. 'Good holiday?'

'Not bad,' muttered Harry, as a true account of his holiday would have taken most of the night to relate and he could not face it. 'You?'

'Yeah, it was OK,' chuckled Dean. 'Better than Seamus's, anyway, he was just telling me.'

'Why, what happened, Seamus?' Neville asked as he placed his Mimbulus mimbletonia tenderly on his bedside cabinet.

Seamus did not answer immediately; he was making rather a meal of ensuring that his poster of the Kenmare Kestrels Quidditch team was quite straight. Then he said, with his back still turned to Harry, 'Me mam didn't want me to come back.'

'What?' said Harry, pausing in the act of pulling off his robes.

'She didn't want me to come back to Hogwarts.'

Seamus turned away from his poster and pulled his own pyjamas out of his trunk, still not looking at Harry.

'But - why?' said Harry, astonished. He knew that Seamus's mother was a witch and could not understand, therefore, why she should have come over so Dursleyish.

Seamus did not answer until he had finished buttoning his pyjamas.

'Well,' he said in a measured voice, 'I suppose… because of you.'

'What d'you mean?' said Harry quickly.

His heart was beating rather fast. He felt vaguely as though something was closing in on him.

'Well,' said Seamus again, still avoiding Harrys eye, 'she… er… well, it's not just you, it's Dumbledore, too…'

'She believes the Daily Prophet?' said Harry. 'She thinks I'm a liar and Dumbledore's an old fool?'

Seamus looked up at him.

'Yeah, something like that.'

Harry said nothing. He threw his wand down on to his bedside table, pulled off his robes, stuffed them angrily into his trunk and pulled on his pyjamas. He was sick of it; sick of being the person who is stared at and talked about all the time. If any of them knew, if any of them had the faintest idea what it felt like to be the one all these things had happened to… Mrs Finnigan had no idea, the stupid woman, he thought savagely.

He got into bed and made to pull the hangings closed around him, but before he could do so, Seamus said, 'Look… what did happen that night when… you know, when… with Cedric Diggory and all?'

Seamus sounded nervous and eager at the same time. Dean, who had been bending over his trunk trying to retrieve a slipper, went oddly still and Harry knew he was listening hard.

'What are you asking me for?' Harry retorted. 'Just read the Daily Prophet like your mother, why don't you? That'll tell you all you need to know.'

'Don't you have a go at my mother,' Seamus snapped.

Til have a go at anyone who calls me a liar,' said Harry.

'Don't talk to me like that!'

Til talk to you how I want,' said Harry, his temper rising so fast he snatched his wand back from his bedside table. 'If you've got a problem sharing a dormitory with me, go and ask McGonagall if you can be moved… stop your mummy worrying -'

'Leave my mother out of this, Potter!'

'What's going on?'

Ron had appeared in the doorway. His wide eyes travelled from Harry, who was kneeling on his bed with his wand pointing at Seamus, to Seamus, who was standing there with his fists raised.

'He's having a go at my mother!' Seamus yelled.

'What?' said Ron. 'Harry wouldn't do that - we met your mother, we liked her…"

That's before she started believing every word the stinking Daily Prophet writes about me!' said Harry at the top of his voice.

'Oh,' said Ron, comprehension dawning across his freckled face. 'Oh… right.'

'You know what?' said Seamus heatedly, casting Harry a venomous look. 'He's right, I don't want to share a dormitory with him any more, he's mad.'

'That's out of order, Seamus,' said Ron, whose ears were starting to glow red - always a danger sign.

'Out of order, am I?' shouted Seamus, who in contrast with Ron was going pale. 'You believe all the rubbish he's come out with about You-Know-Who, do you, you reckon he's telling the truth?'

'Yeah, I do!' said Ron angrily.

Then you're mad, too,' said Seamus in disgust.

'Yeah? Well, unfortunately for you, pal, I'm also a prefect!' said Ron, jabbing himself in the chest with a finger. 'So unless you want detention, watch your mouth!'

Seamus looked for a few seconds as though detention would be a reasonable price to pay to say what was going through his mind; but with a noise of contempt he turned on his heel, vaulted into bed and pulled the hangings shut with such violence that they were ripped from the bed and fell in a dusty pile to the floor. Ron glared at Seamus, then looked at Dean and Neville.

'Anyone else's parents got a problem with Harry?' he said aggressively.

'My parents are Muggles, mate,' said Dean, shrugging. They don't know nothing about no deaths at Hogwarts, because I'm not stupid enough to tell them.'

'You don't know my mother, she'd weasel anything out of anyone!' Seamus snapped at him. 'Anyway your parents don't get the Daily Prophet. They don't know our Headmaster's been sacked from the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards because he's losing his marbles -'

'My gran says that's rubbish,' piped up Neville. 'She says it's the Daily Prophet that's going downhill, not Dumbledore. She's cancelled our subscription. We believe Harry' said Neville simply. He climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin, looking owlishly over them at Seamus. 'My gran's always said You-Know-Who would come back one day. She says if Dumbledore says he's back, he's back.'

Harry felt a rush of gratitude towards Neville. Nobody else said anything. Seamus got out his wand, repaired the bed hangings and vanished behind them. Dean got into bed, rolled over and fell silent. Neville, who appeared to have nothing more to say either, was gazing fondly at his moonlit cactus.

Harry lay back on his pillows while Ron bustled around the next bed, putting his things away. He felt shaken by the argument with Seamus, whom he had always liked very much. How many more people were going to suggest that he was lying, or unhinged?

They'll know we're right in the end, thought Harry miserably, as Ron got into bed and extinguished the last candle in the dormitory. But he wondered how many more attacks like Seamus's he would have to endure before that time came.

Seamus dressed at top speed next morning and left the dormitory before Harry had even put on his socks.

'Does he think he'll turn into a nutter if he stays in a room with me too long?' asked Harry loudly, as the hem of Seamus's robes whipped out of sight.

'Don't worry about it, Harry,' Dean muttered, hoisting his schoolbag on to his shoulder, 'he's just…'

But apparently he was unable to say exactly what Seamus was, and after a slightly awkward pause followed him out of the room.

Neville and Ron both gave Harry an it's-his-problem-not-yours look, but Harry was not much consoled. How much more of this would he have to take?

'Anyway, what's up, Harry?' Hermione continued, as they walked down a flight of stairs lined with portraits of old witches and wizards, all of whom ignored them, being engrossed in their own conversation. 'You look really angry about something.'

'Seamus reckons Harry's lying about You-Know-Who,' said Ron succinctly, when Harry did not respond.

Hermione, who Harry had expected to react angrily on his behalf, sighed.

'What are you still getting that for?' said Harry irritably, thinking of Seamus as Hermione placed a Knut in the leather pouch on the owl's leg and it took off again. 'I'm not bothering… load of rubbish.'

Harry, who was sweating profusely, looked desperately around the dungeon. His own cauldron was issuing copious amounts of dark grey steam; Ron's was spitting green sparks. Seamus was feverishly prodding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they seemed to be going out. The surface of Hermione's potion, however, was a shimmering mist of silver vapour, and as Snape swept by he looked down his hooked nose at it without comment, which meant he could find nothing to criticise.

'I'm just passing on the message,' said Ron, talking over him. 'But I reckon she's right. It's not our fault how Seamus and Snape treat you.'

Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk. Harry, however, stood up. Everyone was staring at him; Seamus looked half-scared, half-fascinated.

He passed Seamus on the way to the door leading to the dormitories, but did not look at him. Harry had a fleeting impression that Seamus had opened his mouth to speak, but he sped up and reached the soothing peace of the stone spiral staircase without having to endure any more provocation.

'Er - thanks very much, Ernie,' said Harry, taken aback but pleased. Ernie might be pompous on occasions like this, but Harry was in a mood to deeply appreciate a vote of confidence from somebody who did not have radishes dangling from their ears. Ernie's words had certainly wiped the smile from Lavender Brown's face and as he turned to talk to Ron and Hermione, Harry caught Seamuss expression, which looked both confused and defiant.

Professor McGonagall marched into the room without giving the slightest indication that she knew Professor Umbridge was there.

'That will do,' she said and silence fell immediately. 'Mr Finnigan, kindly come here and hand back the homework - Miss Brown, please take this box of mice - don't be silly, girl, they won't hurt you - and hand one to each student -'