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A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming, and Harry knew no more.

Harry turned to look outside. Something very small and gray was bobbing in and out of sight beyond the glass. He stood up for a better look and saw that it was a tiny owl, carrying a letter that was much too big for it. The owl was so small, in fact, that it kept tumbling over in the air, buffeted this way and that in the train's slipstream. Harry quickly pulled down the window, stretched out his arm, and caught it. It felt like a very fluffy Snitch. He brought it carefully inside.

¡°Alas, if only we had,¡± said Fudge bitterly. ¡°It was not we who found him. It was little Peter Pettigrew ¡ª another of the Potters¡¯ friends. Maddened by grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Potters¡¯ Secret-Keeper, he went after Black himself.¡±

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