Will and Won’t

           HarryPotterwassnoringloudly.Hehadbeensittinginachairbesidehisbedroomwindowforthebestpartoffourhours,staringoutatthedarkeningstreet,andhadfinallyfallenasleepwithonesideofhisfacepressedagainstthecoldwin-dowpane,hisglassesaskewandhismouthwideopen.Themistyfughisbreathhadleftonthewindowsparkledintheorangeglareofthestreetlampoutside,andtheartificiallightdrainedhisfaceofallcolor,sothathelookedghostlybeneathhisshockofuntidyblackhair.

           Theroomwasstrewnwithvariouspossessionsandagoodsmatteringofrubbish.Owlfeathers,applecores,andsweetwrapperslitteredthefloor,anumberofspellbookslayhiggledy-piggledyamongthetangledrobesonhisbed,andamessofnewspaperssatinapuddleoflightonhisdesk.Theheadlineofoneblared:

           HARRYPOTTER:THECHOSENONE?

           RumorscontinuetoflyaboutthemysteriousrecentdisturbanceattheMinistryofMagic,duringwhichHe-Who-Must-Not-Be-Namedwassightedoncemore.

           "We’renotallowedtotalkaboutit,don’taskmeanything,"saidoneagitatedObliviator,whorefusedtogivehisnameashelefttheMinistrylastnight.

           Nevertheless,highlyplacedsourceswithintheMinistryhaveconfirmedthatthedisturbancecenteredonthefabledHallofProphecy.

           ThoughMinistryspokeswizardshavehithertorefusedeventoconfirmtheexistenceofsuchaplace,agrowingnumberoftheWizardingcommunitybelievethattheDeathEatersnowservingsentencesinAzkabanfortrespassandattemptedtheftwereattemptingtostealaprophecy.