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‘I hear that you met the minister for Magic over Christmas?’ ‘Yes,’ said Harry. ‘He’s not very happy with me.’ ‘No,’ sighed Dumbledore. ‘He’s not very happy with me either. We must try not to sink beneath our anguish, Harry, but battle on.’ Harry grinned. ‘He accused me of being “Dumbledore’s man through and through”.’ ‘How very rude of him.’ ‘I told him I was.’ Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. Behind Harry, Fawkes the Phoenix let out a low, soft, musical cry. To Harry’s intense embarrassment, he suddenly realised that Dumbledore’s bright blue eyes looked rather watery, and stared hastily at his own knees. When Dumbledore spoke, however, his voice was quite steady. ‘I am very touched Harry.’

When Harry pushed open the tapestry top take their usual short cut up to the Griffindor Tower, however, they found themselves looking at Dean and Ginny, who were locked in a close embrace and kissing fiercely as if glued together. It was though something large and scaly erupted into life in Harry’s stomach, clawing at his insides; hot blood seemed to flood his brain, so that all thought was extinguished, replaced be the sudden urge to jinx Dean into jelly. Wrestling with this sudden madness, he heard Ron’s voice as though from a great distance away. -- But unbidden into his mind came the image of that same deserted corridor with himself kissing Ginny instead… the monster in his chest purred…

"DON'T - " screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly demented, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them, "-CALL ME COWARD!"