Harry said as the small owl flew low over his head, twittering madly with what Harry could only assume was pride at having delivered the letter to the right person.
So when Frank awoke one night in August and saw something very odd up at the old house, he merely assumed that the boys had gone one step further in their attempts to punish him.
Assuming this had something to do with his headless rubber haddock, Harry proceeded gloomily to the teacher’s desk.
He would be speaking to him in just over twelve hours, for tonight was the night they were meeting at the common room fire — assuming nothing went wrong, as everything else had done lately… "Look, it’s Hagrid!" said Hermione.
"I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?" said Dumbledore coolly.
Wormtail’s body, of course, was ill adapted for possession, as all assumed him dead, and would attract far too much attention if noticed.
Harry assumed he was talking about the skrewts, because his classmates certainly weren’t; every now and then, with an alarming bang, one of the skrewts’ ends would explode, causing it to shoot forward several yards, and more than one person was being dragged along on their stomach, trying desperately to get back on their feet.
It was true that going down to Hagrid’s at midnight would mean cutting his meeting with Sirius very fine indeed; Hermione suggested sending Hedwig down to Hagrid’s to tell him he couldn’t go — always assuming she would consent to take the note, of course — Harry, however, thought it better just to be quick at whatever Hagrid wanted him for.
Oh I would never dream of assuming I know all Hogwarts’ secrets, Igor," said Dumbledore amicably.