““All right,” said Ron slowly, “let’s say we go for it tomorrow. . . . I think it should just be me and Harry.” “Oh, don’t start that again!” sighed Hermione. “I thought we’d settled this.” “It’s one thing hanging around the entrances under the Cloak, but this is different, Hermione.” Ron jabbed a finger at a copy of the Daily Prophet dated ten days previously. “You’re on the list of Muggle-borns who didn’t present themselves for interrogation!” “And you’re supposed to be dying of spattergroit at the Burrow! If anyone shouldn’t go, it’s Harry, he’s got a ten-thousand-Galleon price on his head—” “Fine, I’ll stay here,” said Harry. “Let me know if you ever defeat Voldemort, won’t you?””
