Snape, meanwhile, seemed to h

Snape, meanwhile, seemed to have decided to act as though Harry were invisible. Harry was, of course, well-used to this tactic, as it was one of Uncle Vernon's favourites, and on the whole was grateful he had to suffer nothing worse. In fact, compared to what he usually had to endure from Snape in the way of taunts and snide remarks, he found the new approach something of an improvement, and was pleased to find that when left well alone, he was able to concoct an Invigoration Draught quite easily. At the end of the lesson he scooped some of the potion into a flask, corked it and took it up to Snape's desk for marking, feeling that he might at last have scraped an ‘E'.

He had just turned away when he heard a smashing noise. Malfoy gave a gleeful yell of laughter. Harry whipped around. His potion sample lay in pieces on the floor and Snape was surveying him with a look of gloating pleasure.

‘Whoops,’ he said softly. ‘Another zero, then, Potter.’

Harry was too incensed to speak. He strode back to his cauldron, intending to fill another flask and force Snape to mark it, but saw to his horror that the rest of the contents had vanished.

‘I'm sorry!’ said Hermione, with her hands over her mouth. ‘I'm really sorry, Harry. I thought you'd finished, so I cleared up!’

Harry could not bring himself to answer. When the bell rang, he hurried out of the dungeon without a backwards glance, and made sure that he found himself a seat between Neville and Seamus for lunch so that Hermione could not start nagging him again about using Umbridge's office.

He was in such a bad mood by the time he got to Divination that he had quite forgotten his careers appointment with Professor McGonagall, remembering it only when Ron asked him why he wasn't in her office. He hurtled back upstairs and arrived out of breath, only a few minutes late.

‘Sorry, Professor,’ he panted, as he closed the door. ‘I forgot.’

‘No matter, Potter,’ she said briskly, but as she spoke, somebody else sniffed from the corner. Harry looked round.

Professor Umbridge was sitting there, a clipboard on her knee, a fussy little pie-frill around her neck and a small, horribly smug smile on her face.

‘Sit down, Potter,’ said Professor McGonagall tersely. Her hands shook slightly as she shuffled the many pamphlets littering her desk.

Harry sat down with his back to Umbridge and did his best to pretend he could not hear the scratching of her quill on her clipboard.

‘Well, Potter, this meeting is to talk over any career ideas you might have, and to help you decide which subjects you should continue into the sixth and seventh years,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Have you had any thoughts about what you would like to do after you leave Hogwarts?’

‘Er—’ said Harry.

He was finding the scratching noise from behind him very distracting.

‘Yes?’ Professor McGonagall prompted Harry.

‘Well, I thought of, maybe, being an Auror,’ Harry mumbled.

‘You'd need top grades for that,’ said Professor McGonagall, extracting a small, dark leaflet from under the mass on her desk and opening it. ‘They ask for a minimum of five NEWTs, and nothing under “Exceeds Expectations” grade, I see. Then you would be required to undergo a stringent series of character and aptitude tests at the Auror office. It's a difficult career path, Potter, they only take the best. In fact, I don't think anybody has been taken on in the last three years.’

At this moment, Professor Umbridge gave a very tiny cough, as though she was trying to see how quietly she could do it. Professor McGonagall ignored her.

‘You'll want to know which subjects you ought to take, I suppose?’ she went on, talking a little louder than before.

‘Yes,’ said Harry. ‘Defence Against the Dark Arts, I suppose?’

‘Naturally,’ said Professor McGonagall crisply. ‘I would also advise—’

Professor Umbridge gave another cough, a little more audible this time. Professor McGonagall closed her eyes for a moment, opened them again, and continued as though nothing had happened.