圣芒戈魔法伤病医院

    她把他的话当真了，哈利大感快慰。他没有迟疑，一下子就从床上蹦起来，套上晨衣，把眼镜推到鼻梁上。

    “韦斯莱，你也应该一起来。”麦格教授说。

    他们跟着麦格教授走过默立一旁的纳威、迪安和西莫，出了宿舍，从螺旋形楼梯下到公共休息室，钻出肖像洞口，沿着胖夫人那道洒满月光的走廊而行。哈利觉得他内心的恐惧随时都可能决堤。他想跑，想大声叫邓布利多。他们这样慢腾腾地走着，而韦斯莱先生正在流血。要是那些尖牙（哈利努力不去想“我的尖牙”）有毒呢？路上遇到洛丽丝夫人，它把灯泡般的眼睛转向他们，发出微弱的嘶嘶声，麦格教授说了一声“嘘！”洛丽丝夫人溜进了阴影中。几分钟后，他们来到了邓布利多办公室入口处的石兽跟前。

    “滋滋蜜蜂糖。”麦格教授说。

    石兽活过来跳到一边，后面的墙壁裂成两半，露出一段不断上升的石楼梯，-314　？好像一架螺旋形的自动扶梯。三人踏上楼梯，墙壁在他们身后咔嚓合拢。他们转着小圈上升，来到那一扇闪闪发亮的栎木门前，门上有狮身鹰首兽形状的铜门环。

    虽然早已过了午夜，屋里却传出说话声，乱哄哄的，好像邓布利多在招待至少一打人。

    麦格教授把兽形门环叩了三下，说话声突然停止，好像被关掉了似的。门自动打开了，麦格教授领着哈利和罗恩走进去。

    屋里半明半暗，桌上那些古怪的银制仪器静静地待着，而不是像往常那样嗡嗡转动，吐出阵阵烟雾。墙上历届校长的肖像都在镜框里鼾睡。门后面，一只个头像天鹅，羽毛金红相间，美丽非凡的大鸟在栖木上打瞌睡，头藏在翅膀下面。

    “哦，是你，麦格教授？？还有？？啊。”

    邓布利多坐在他书桌后的高背椅上，凑在蜡烛光前看文件。他穿着雪白的睡衣，外罩一件紫底镶金的便袍，但看上去精神抖擞，锐利的蓝眼睛紧盯着麦格教授。

    “邓布利多教授，波特刚才做了一个？？一个噩梦。”麦格教授说，“他说？-”

    “不是噩梦。”哈利马上说。

    麦格教授回头看看哈利，微微皱起眉头。

    “好吧，波特，你自己跟校长说吧。”

    “我？？嗯，我是在睡觉？？”哈利说，虽在恐怖和急切中，他还是有点气恼校长没有看他，而是望着自己交叉的十指，“可这不是一般的梦？？它是真的？？我看到它发生了？？”他深深吸了口气，“罗恩的爸爸——　韦斯莱先生——　被一条大蛇咬了。”

    他说完后，这些话似乎在空气中回响着，有点荒唐，甚至可笑。邓布利多向后一靠，凝视着天花板。罗恩望望哈利，又望望邓布利多，面色苍白而震惊。

    “你怎么看到的？”邓布利多轻声问，　依然没有看哈利。

    “嗯？？我不知道，”哈利有点恼火地说——　这有什么关系？“在我脑子里吧——　”

    “你误会了，”邓布利多依然是平静的语气，“我是说？？你记不记得——　啊——　看到袭击时你在什么位置？你是站在受害者旁边，还是从上面俯瞰这一幕？”

    这个问题很怪，哈利呆呆地望着邓布利多，他好像知道似的？？“我就是那条蛇，”哈利说，“我都是从蛇的角度看到的？？”

    一时没人吭声，然后邓布利多看着脸色仍然煞白的罗恩，换了一种比较强烈的语气说：“亚瑟伤得严重吗？”

    -315　？“很严重。”哈利强调地说——　他们为什么领会得这么慢？难道不知道一个人被那么长的尖牙刺穿之后会流多少血吗？邓布利多为什么不能看他一眼？但邓布利多猛地站起来，把哈利吓了一跳。

    他对离天花板很近的一幅旧画像说：“埃弗拉？”他厉声说，“还有你，戴丽丝！”

    一个短黑刘海的黄脸男巫和旁边唾框中一个垂着长长银发卷的老女巫立刻睁开了眼睛，两人刚才都好像睡得很酣。

    “你们听见了吗？”邓布利多问。

    男巫点点头，女巫说：“当然。”

    “那男子红头发，戴眼镜。”邓布利多说，“埃弗拉，你需要发警报，确保他被自己人发现——　”

    两位巫师点点头从侧面出了画框，但没有出现在旁边的画框里（像在霍格沃茨经常发生的那样），而是消失不见了。一个画框里只剩下了深色的帘子，另一个剩下了一张漂亮的皮椅。哈利注意到墙上其他许多老校长虽然逼真地打着呼噜，流着口水，却从眼皮底下偷偷地看他，他突然明白了刚才敲门时是谁在说话。

    “埃弗拉和戴丽丝是霍格沃茨鼎鼎有名的两位校长，”邓布利多快步从哈利、罗恩和麦格教授身旁走到门边睡觉的美丽大鸟跟前，“其他重要的巫师机构也挂有他们的肖像。他们能在自己的肖像之间随意来去，所以能告诉我们别处发生的事情？？”

    “但韦斯莱先生可能在任何地方！”哈利说。

    “三位请坐一会儿，”邓布利多说，好像哈利没说话一样，“埃弗拉和戴丽丝要几分钟后才回来？？麦格教授，你能不能再拉两把椅子。”

    麦格教授从兜里抽出魔杖，挥了一下，变出三把椅子，是直背的木椅，与哈利受审时邓布利多变出的软椅不同。哈利坐下来，回头看着邓布利多，他用一根手指抚摸着福克斯头上的金色羽毛，凤凰立刻醒了过来，仰起美丽的头颈，用明亮的黑眼睛望着他。

    “我们需要一点警报。”邓布利多轻轻对它说。

    一道火光，凤凰不见了。

    邓布利多现在快步走到一台精巧的银制仪器前，哈利一直不知道这些银仪器的用途。邓布利多把那台仪器搬到书桌上，重新面对他们坐下，用魔杖尖轻轻敲打着它。

    仪器立刻运转起来，发出有节奏的丁当声，顶部的小银管喷出一缕缕淡绿色的轻烟，在空气中汇聚缭绕？？邓布利多专注地望着轻烟，眉头紧锁。几秒钟后，几缕轻烟变成一股稳定的烟雾，越来越浓，在空气中盘旋？？顶端化成了一个蛇头，蛇嘴大张着。哈利想知道仪器是否在证实他的描述，他热切地看着邓布利多，想得到肯定的表示，但校长没有抬头。

    “自然，自然，”他自言自语地说，依然注视着烟气，一点也没有惊讶，“但实质上是分开的吧？”

    哈利完全摸不着头脑，但烟蛇马上分成了两条，在昏暗的空气中盘旋、扭动。邓布利多带着严峻而满意的神情，又用魔杖轻轻敲了敲仪器。丁当声减慢停止了，烟蛇渐渐淡去，化成无形的烟雾消失了。

    邓布利多把仪器放回细长的小桌上。哈利看到画像中许多老校长在窥视，他们发现哈利在看着他们，赶忙又假装睡着了。哈利正想问那奇怪的银仪器是干什么的，右边墙上一声喊叫，那个叫埃弗拉的男巫已经回到画框中，有点气喘吁吁。

    “邓布利多！”

    “什么消息？”邓布利多马上问。

    “我一直喊到有人跑来，”男巫用帘子擦着额头说，“说我听到楼下有东西在动——　他们半信半疑，但还是下去看了——　你知道下面没有画像可以瞭望。总之，几分钟后他们把他抬了上来。他看上去不妙，浑身是血，我跑到艾芙丽达克拉格的画像中去好好看了一眼——　”

    “很好，”邓布利多说，罗恩抽搐了一下，“我想戴丽丝会看到他进去，然后——　”

    过了一会儿，拖着银发卷的女巫也回到了画框中，她咳嗽着坐进皮椅说：“对，他们把他送进了圣芒戈，邓布利多？？他们从我的画像下面走过？？他看上去很不好？？”

    “谢谢你。”邓布利多说，他转身望着麦格教授。

    “米勒娃，我需要你去叫醒韦斯莱家其他的孩子。”

    “当然？？”

    麦格教授站起来快步走向门口。哈利瞥了瞥罗恩，他现在看上去很害怕。

    “邓布利多——　还有莫丽呢？”麦格教授在门口说。

    “让福克斯放完哨之后去吧，”邓布利多说，“但她可能已经知道了？？她那奇妙的挂钟？？”

    哈利知道邓布利多指的是那个不显示时间，只显示韦斯莱家各人下落和情况的挂钟。他揪心地想到韦斯莱先生的指针此刻一定还指着“生命危险”。但天太晚了？？韦斯莱夫人也许在睡觉，没有看钟？？他心里发寒，想起韦斯莱夫人的博格特变成她丈夫的尸体，眼镜歪斜，脸上流着血？？但韦斯莱先生不会死？？他不能死？？邓布利多在哈利和罗恩身后的一个柜子里摸索着，找出了一个熏黑的旧茶壶，小心地放到桌上。他举起魔杖，念了声“门托斯”，茶壶颤动了一会儿，发出奇-317　？异的蓝光，然后渐渐静止，又变得乌黑。

    邓布利多走到另一幅画像前，这是一个留着山羊胡，长着一副聪明相的男巫。他身着银绿相间的斯莱特林服装，似乎睡得很香，都没听见邓布利多在叫他。

    “菲尼亚斯，菲尼亚斯！”

    现在墙上的画中人都不再装睡了，他们在画框中走来走去，好看得更清楚些。聪明相的男巫继续装睡时，他们有些人也开始Ⅱq他。

    “菲尼亚斯！菲尼亚斯！菲尼亚斯！”

    他装不下去了，夸张地动了一下，睁大眼睛。

    “有人叫我吗？”

    “我需要你再到你的另外一幅画像中跑一趟，菲尼亚斯，”邓布利多说，“我又得到了一个消息。”‘“到我的那幅画像中跑一趟？”菲尼亚斯尖声说，打了一个长长的哈欠（他的目光在屋里扫了一圈，落到哈利身上），“哦，不行，邓布利多，我今晚太累了？？”

    哈利觉得菲尼亚斯的声音有点耳熟。在哪儿听到过呢？没等他细想，周围的画像突然爆发出一片抗议。

    “不服从，先生！”一个红鼻子的大胖男巫挥着拳头吼道，“不守职责！”

    “我们有义务为现任的霍格沃茨校长效力！”一个看上去体质虚弱的老男巫喊道，哈利认出是邓布利多的前任，阿芒多迪佩特，“不害臊，菲尼亚斯！”

    “要我来说服他吗，邓布利多？”一个目光精明的女巫举起一根极粗的魔杖，好似桦树条。

    “哦，好吧，”菲尼亚斯有点害怕地瞟着这根魔杖说，“虽然他这会儿可能早把我的画像毁了，他已经毁了家里大部分——　”

    “小天狼星不会打坏你的画像。”邓布利多说。哈利一下想起他在哪儿听到过菲尼亚斯的声音了：是从格里莫广场12号卧室那看似空空的画框里传出的。“你要告诉他，亚瑟-韦斯菜受了重伤，其夫人、儿女和哈利波特很快会去他家。明白吗？”

    “亚瑟韦斯莱受伤，老婆孩子和哈利波特要来。”菲尼亚斯懒洋洋地说，“行，行？？好吧？？”

    他从画框中溜了出去，这时书房的门又开了，弗雷德、乔治和金妮由麦格教授领了进来，三人都还穿着睡衣，头发凌乱，神色惊恐。

    “哈利——　怎么回事？”金妮害怕地问，“麦格教授说你看到爸爸受伤了——　”

    “你父亲在为凤凰社工作时受了伤，”邓布利多不等哈利开口就说，“他已被送往圣芒戈魔法伤病医院。我要把你们送回小天狼星的住处，那里比陋居更方便去医院，在那里你们会见到你们的母亲。”

    “　我们怎么去？”弗雷德忧心忡忡地问，　“　用飞路粉吗？”

    -318　？“不，”邓布利多说，“飞路粉此刻不安全，网络被监视了。你们要用门钥匙。”他指了指桌上那把看上去很无辜的旧茶壶。“现在只等菲尼亚斯奈杰勒斯回来？？我想确保没有危险再把你们送去——　”

    屋子中央火光一现，留下一根金羽毛，轻盈地飘向地面。

    “是福克斯的警报。”邓布利多接住羽毛说，“乌姆里奇教授一定知道你们都不在床上？？米勒娃，去把她支开——　不管用什么借口——　”

    格子呢的沙沙声中，麦格教授走了。

    “他说欢迎，”邓布利多身后一个懒洋洋的声音说，那个叫菲尼亚斯的男巫重新出现在斯莱特林的旗帜前。“我的玄孙有留人住宿的怪癖？？”“来吧，”邓布利多对哈利和韦斯莱他们说，“快，在有人来之前？？”哈利等人围到邓布利多桌前。“你们都用过门钥匙吧？”邓布利多问，大家点点头，每人都把手放到黑茶壶上。“好。我数到三，一？？二？？”只是一瞬问的工夫：在邓布利多数到“三”之前那短暂的停顿中，哈利抬头看了他一眼——　他们离得很近，邓布利多清澈的目光从门钥匙移到哈利的脸上。

    顿时，哈利的伤疤火烧火燎地痛起来，像伤口重新裂开了一样——　哈利心中升起一股强烈的憎恨，毫无来由，但强烈得可怕，他那一刻只想袭击——　想咬——　想把他的尖牙插进面前这个人的身体——“？？三。”

    他感到肚脐眼后猛地一扯，地面从他脚下消失了，他的手粘在茶壶上，跟其他人碰撞着，在旋转的色彩和呼呼的风声中飞速前进，茶壶一直牵引着他们，然后——他的脚突然撞到地面，震得他膝盖一弯。茶壶哗啦落地。近旁一个声音说道：“又回来了，这些败类渣滓，他们的爸爸是要死了吗？”“出去！”另一个声音咆哮道。

    哈利爬起来环顾四周，他们来到了格里莫广场12号阴暗的地下厨房里。惟一的光源是炉火和一根摇曳的蜡烛，照出残留的冷清的晚饭。克利切消失在前厅门口，拉着缠腰布，恶意地回头看了看他们。小天狼星疾步向他们走来，显得很焦急。他没刮胡子，还穿着白天的衣服，身上还带着一股有点像蒙顿格斯身上的陈酒昧。

    “怎么啦？”他伸手把金妮拉了起来，“菲尼亚斯奈杰勒斯说亚瑟受了重伤——　”

    “问哈利吧。”弗雷德说。

    “对，我也想听昕。”乔治说。

    双胞胎和金妮都盯着他，克利切的脚步声在外面楼梯上停住了。

    -319　？“是——　”哈利开口道，这比告诉麦格教授和邓布利多还要难堪，“我好像——　做了个梦？？”

    他讲了他看到的一切，但稍有改动，好像他是在旁边看到了大蛇袭击，而不是直接通过蛇的眼睛？？依然脸色煞白的罗恩看了他一眼，但没有说话。哈利讲完之后，弗雷德、乔治和金妮又盯了他好一会儿。哈利觉得他们的目光中有责备的成分，他不知道这是不是自己的想象。但如果他们光是这样就要责备他的话，他庆幸没有说出他当时就附在蛇的身上？？“妈妈来了吗？”弗雷德转向小天狼星问。

    “她可能还不知道。”小天狼星说，“重要的是在乌姆里奇干涉之前你们就得走掉。我想邓布利多正在通知莫丽。”

    “我们要去圣芒戈医院，”金妮着急地说，看了看她的哥哥们，他们当然还穿着睡衣，“　小天狼星，你能借我们几件斗篷什么的吗——　？”

    “等等，你们不能冲到圣芒戈去！”小天狼星说。

    “我们当然能去。”弗雷德犟头犟脑地说，“他是我们的爸爸！”

    “你们怎么解释，在医院通知家属之前你们就知道亚瑟受伤了呢？”

    “那有什么关系？”乔治激烈地说。

    “有关系，因为我们不想声张哈利能梦见千里之外的事！”小天狼星恼怒地说，“你知道魔法部会就此做什么文章？”

    弗雷德和乔治的神情表示他们才不管魔法部会做什么呢。罗恩依旧脸色苍白，一言不发。

    金妮说：“可以说是别人告诉我们的？？我们从别处听说的，不提哈利？？”

    “听谁说的？”小天狼星不耐烦地说，“听我说，你爸爸是在为凤凰社工作时受伤的，这事本身已经够可疑了，再添上他的子女几秒钟后就知道了情况，你们会严重损害凤凰社的——　”

    “我们不关心什么愚蠢的凤凰社！”弗雷德叫了起来。

    “我们的父亲生命垂危！”乔治嚷道。

    “你父亲知道他在于什么，他不会感谢你们搅乱凤凰社的大事！”小天狼星也火了，“就是这样——　这就是你们不是凤凰社成员的原因——　你们不懂——　有些东西是值得为之去死的！”

    “你说得轻松，缩在这儿！”弗雷德吼道，“我没看到你有生命危险！”

    小天狼星脸上仅有的一点血色一下消失了，他有一会儿似乎想揍弗雷德，但开口时却是坚定的平静。

    “我知道这很难，但我们大家要装作还不知道，不要急躁，至少等听到你母亲的消息再说，好吗？”

    弗雷德和乔治还不服气，但金妮走到最近的椅子前坐了下来。哈利看看罗-320　？恩，罗恩做了个介于点头和耸肩之间的古怪动作，两人也坐下了。双胞胎兄弟又瞪了小天狼星一分钟，才坐到了金妮的两边。

    “对了，”小天狼星鼓励地说，“来，我们？？一边喝一边等。黄油啤酒飞来！”

    他举起魔杖，六个酒瓶从食品间朝他们飞来，滑过桌面，把小天狼星的剩饭剩菜冲散，刚巧停在六人的面前。他们喝了起来，一时间只听见厨房炉火的噼啪声和酒瓶轻碰桌面的声音。

    哈利喝酒只是为了手上有点事做，他的胃里充满了可怕的、烧灼的负疚感。要不是他，他们还好端端地在床上睡觉。就算对自己说他的警报保证了韦斯莱先生被及时发现也没有用，因为有一个无法逃避的事实：首先是他袭击了韦斯莱先生？？别瞎想，你没有尖牙，他对自己说，竭力保持镇静，但握着啤酒瓶的手在颤抖。你当时躺在床上，没有袭击任何人？？可是，在邓布利多办公室叉是怎么回事呢？他问自己。我觉得我想袭击邓布利多？？他把酒瓶放到桌上，不料动作重了些，酒洒了出来，但没人注意。突然间，一道火光照亮了面前的脏盘子，他们惊叫起来，一卷羊皮纸啪地落到桌上，伴着一根金色的凤凰尾羽。

    “福克斯！”小天狼星马上说，抓起了羊皮纸，“不是邓布利多的笔迹——　一定是你妈妈的信，给——　”

    他把信塞到乔治手里。乔治撕开读道：“爸爸还活着。我现在去圣芒戈。待在那儿，我会尽快通报消息。妈妈。”

    乔治看看大家。

    “还活着？？”他慢慢地说，“可这听上去？？”

    他不必说完，哈利也觉得听上去韦斯莱先生像是在生死之间徘徊。罗恩的脸色还是异常苍白，盯着他母亲的信的背面，好像它能对他说些安慰的话似的。弗雷德从乔治手中抽过信纸，自己念了一遍，抬头看着哈利。哈利觉得他握着酒瓶的手又颤抖起来，忙紧紧攥住瓶子。

    哈利不记得他几时熬过比这更漫长的夜晚。小天狼星提过一次叫大家去睡觉，但语气不是很有力，韦斯莱兄弟反感的表情就足以回答了。他们大部分时间默默围坐在桌边，看着烛芯在液体蜡中越燃越低，时而把酒瓶举到唇边，说话也只是问问时间，猜测发生了什么，或相互安慰说如果有坏消息会立刻知道的，因为韦斯莱夫人一定早就到了圣芒戈医院。

    弗雷德打起盹来，脑袋歪垂到肩上。金妮像小猫一样蜷缩在椅子上，但眼睛还睁着，哈利看到里面映着炉光。罗恩托着脑袋坐在那里，看不出是醒着还是睡了。哈利和小天狼星偶尔看一看对方，两个侵入这场家庭悲剧的外人。等-321　？啊？？等啊？？罗恩的表上五点十分时，厨房门开了，韦斯莱夫人走了进来。她非常苍白，但当他们都转过头看着她，弗雷德、罗恩和哈利站起身来时，她无力地笑了一下。

    “他脱离危险了。”她说，声音虚弱而疲惫，“他在睡觉。我们待会儿可以一起去看他。比尔在陪他呢，他上午请假了。”

    弗雷德一屁股坐回椅子上，双手捂着脸。乔治和金妮站起来，快步走过去和母亲拥抱。罗恩虚弱地笑了一声，把剩下的黄油啤酒一饮而尽。

    “早饭！”小天狼星跳起来，愉快地大声说，“那个可恶的家养小精灵呢？克利切！克利切！”

    但克利切没有回应。

    “哦，算了吧，”小天狼星嘟哝道，一面点着人数，“我来看看——　七个人？？咸肉加鸡蛋，再来点茶，还有烤面包——　”

    哈利忙跑到炉边帮忙。他不想打搅韦斯莱一家的喜悦，而且害怕韦斯莱夫人让他讲那个梦。然而，他刚把盘子从碗柜中拿出来，韦斯莱夫人就接了过去，并且拥抱了他一下。

    “要不是你，真不知道会怎么样，哈利。”她低声说，“亚瑟可能再过几小时都不会被发现，那样就晚了。多亏你，救了他一命，而且邓布利多想出了一个好的说法解释亚瑟为什么会在那儿，不然的话，你不知道他会遇到多大的麻烦，看看可怜的斯多吉吧？？”

    哈利无法承受她的感激，幸好她很快放开了他，去感谢小天狼星通宵照看她的孩子们。小天狼星说他很高兴能帮忙，并希望他们在韦斯莱先生住院期间留在他家。

    “哦。小天狼星，我真感激？？医院说他要住一阵子，能离得近就太好了？？当然，这就是说我们可能得在这儿过圣诞节了？？”

    “那更好！”小天狼星说得如此真诚，韦斯莱夫人对他笑了一下，系上围裙，开始帮着做早饭。

    “小天狼星，”哈利小声说，他再也忍不住了，“我能跟你说句话吗？嗯——　现在？”

    他走进昏暗的食品间，小天狼星跟了进来。哈利开门见山地对他教父讲了梦里的每个细节，讲了他自己就是袭击韦斯莱先生的那条蛇。他停下来喘息时，小天狼星说：“你跟邓布利多说了吗？”　“说了，”啥利烦躁地说，“可他没给我解释，他现在什么也不跟我讲了？？”“我相信，如果是严重的事，他会跟你讲的。”小天狼星镇定地说。“可不止这些，”哈利的声音低得像耳语，“小天狼星，我？？我觉得我要疯了？？在邓布利多的办公室里，在我们触摸门钥匙之前？？有一两秒钟我觉得-322　？自己是一条蛇，我感觉像蛇——　当我看着邓布利多的时候，我的伤疤特别痛——　小天狼星，我想咬他——　”　他只能看到一小条小天狼星的脸，其余都在暗处。“准是幻觉的残留影响，你还在想那个梦——　管它是什么呢——　”　“不是，”哈利摇头说，“就像我心里有东西冒出来，就像我身体里面有一条蛇——　”

    “你需要睡觉，”小天狼星坚决地说，“吃点早饭，上楼休息去，午饭后可以跟他们一起去看亚瑟。你受了刺激，哈利，你在为你仅仅是看到的事情而自责，幸好你看到了，不然亚瑟可能就完了。别胡思乱想？？”

    他拍拍哈利的肩膀，离开了食品间，剩下哈利一个人站在黑暗中。

    大家都睡了一上午，除了哈利。他上楼进了他和罗恩暑假最后几个星期住过的卧室。罗恩爬到床上，几分钟就睡着了，哈利却和衣而坐，蜷曲着靠在冰冷的金属床栏上，故意让自己不舒服，决心不打瞌睡，惟恐睡着后再变成蛇，醒来发现他袭击了罗恩，或者游到其他房间？？罗恩醒来后，哈利假装他也睡了个好觉。午饭时，他们的行李从霍格沃茨运来了，这样他们可以穿着麻瓜的衣服去圣芒戈。除了哈利之外，所有的人都兴高采烈，有说有笑，脱下袍子，换上了牛仔裤和运动衫。见到来给他们带路的唐克斯和疯眼汉，众人开心地取笑疯眼汉歪戴在头上挡住魔眼的圆礼帽，对他说，这会让头发又变得短而亮红的唐克斯在地铁里不再那么惹人注意。这倒是实话。

    唐克斯对哈利梦见韦斯莱先生遭蛇咬一事很感兴趣，而哈利一点也不想谈这个话题。

    “你家里不会有先知的血统吧？”她好奇地问，他们并排坐在车厢里，哐啷哐啷地朝市中心驶去。

    “没有。”哈利说，想到特里劳妮教授，觉得受了侮辱。“不是，”唐克斯自己琢磨道，“我想你做的不是真正的预言，对吧？你没有看到未来，你看到的是现在？？真奇怪，是不是？但挺有用的？？”

    哈利没有回答，幸好他们到站了，在伦敦的市中心。挤着下车时，他让弗雷德和乔治插到了唐克斯后面。他们都跟着她登上自动扶梯，穆迪噔噔噔地走在最后，圆礼帽拉得低低的，一只粗糙的大手插在上衣纽扣之间握着魔杖。哈利感到那只遮住的眼睛紧紧盯着他，他怕又提起那个梦，就问疯眼汉圣芒戈藏在哪儿。

    “离这儿不远。”穆迪嘟哝道。他们走到寒冷的街上，这是一条宽阔的街道，两旁的商店里挤满了圣诞节的顾客。穆迪把哈利推到前面，自己压后。哈利知道帽檐下的眼睛在四下转动。“不容易找到一个好地址建医院，对角巷地皮不-323　？够，又不能像魔法部一样建在地下——　不卫生。最后他们在这儿搞到一个地方，理由是病号可以混在人群中来来往往？？”

    他抓住哈利的肩膀，免得他们被一群显然只想挤进旁边那家电器店的购物者冲散。

    “到了。”过了一会儿穆迪说。

    面前是一座老式的红砖百货商店，叫做淘淘有限公司，看上去衰败冷清，橱窗里只有几个破裂的假人，歪戴着假发，姿态各异，穿的是至少十年以前的服装。积满灰尘的门上都挂着“停业装修”的大牌子。哈利听到一个拎着大包小包的高个子女人对同伴说：“这个地方从来没有开张过？？”

    “这儿，”唐克斯招手把他们领到一个橱窗前，里面只有一个特别丑的女假人，假睫毛都要掉了，穿着绿色尼龙裙。“　都准备好了吗？”

    大家点点头，向她靠拢过去。穆迪又在哈利后背上推了一把，让他往前去。唐克斯凑近橱窗，抬头望着那个丑陋的假人，呼出的气模糊了玻璃，“你好？？我们来看亚瑟韦斯莱。”

    一刹那闯，哈利觉得唐克斯很滑稽，隔着玻璃用这么小的声音说话，街上人来人往，汽车声那么响，假人怎么听得见呢。然后他想起假人本来就昕不见。但他随即吃惊地张大了嘴巴，只见假人微微点一下头，招了招连在一起的手指。唐克斯抓住金妮和韦斯莱夫人的胳膊，径直穿过玻璃消失了。

    弗雷德、乔治和罗恩也走了进去。哈利看看熙熙攘攘的人群，似乎谁也没工夫瞥一眼淘淘公司这样难看的橱窗，也没人注意到六个人刚刚在他面前融入了空气中。

    “走吧。”穆迪粗声说着又捅了哈利一下。他俩一起走上前，好像穿过了一层凉水，却暖和干燥地从对面出来了。

    丑陋的假人和她站的地方都无影无踪了。他们好像来到了一个拥挤的候诊室，一排排男女巫师坐在摇摇晃晃的木椅上，有的看上去很正常，在读过期的《女巫周刊》，另一些则有可怕的畸形，如长着象鼻子或胸口多生出了_只手。室内比街上安静不到哪儿去，因为有许多病人发出非常奇怪的声音。前排中间一个满头大汗的女巫使劲扇着一份《预言家日报》，不断发出尖锐的汽笛声，口吐蒸气。角落里一个邋遢的男巫一动就像钟那样当当响，每响一声他的脑袋就可怕地摆动起来，他只好抓住耳朵把它稳住。

    穿绿袍的男女巫师在候诊者中走来走去，询问情况，在乌姆里奇那样的写字板上作记录。哈利注意到他们胸口绣的徽章：一根魔杖与骨头组成的十字。

    “他们是医生吗？”他小声问罗恩。

    “医生？”罗恩好像很吃惊，“那些把人切开的麻瓜疯子？不是，他们是治疗师。”

    -324　？“这边！”韦斯莱夫人在角落里的男巫刚发出的一阵当当声中喊道。他们跟她排到队伍里，一个胖胖的金发女巫坐在标有“问讯处”字样的桌子前，她身后的墙上贴满通知和招贴，如干净坩埚防止魔药变毒药，解药不可乱用，要由合格治疗师认可。

    还有一个垂着长长银发卷的女巫的大肖像，上面注明：戴丽丝德文特圣芒戈治疗师（1722一1741）霍格沃茨魔法学校校长（1741—　1768）　戴丽丝在仔细打量着哈利等人，好像在点人数，遇到哈利的目光时，她微微眨了眨眼，从侧面走出画框消失了。队伍前头一个年轻男巫在跳着一种奇异的快步舞，一边喊痛一边试图向桌后的女巫解释他的困境。

    “是——　嗷——　我哥哥给我的鞋子——　哎哟——　它在咬我的——　嗷——　脚——　看看，上面一定有——　啊——　魔咒，我——　啊——　脱不下来——　”他轮流跳着两只脚，好像在热炭上跳舞。

    “鞋子没妨碍你阅读吧？”金发女巫不耐烦地指着桌子左边的大牌子说，“你得去五楼的魔咒伤害科，指示牌上写着呢。下一个！”那男巫一跳一拐地让到一边，哈利等人往前挪了几步。哈利读着指示牌：器物事故科——一楼　（坩埚爆炸、魔杖走火、扫帚碰撞等）生物伤害科——二楼　（蜇咬、灼伤、嵌刺等）奇异病菌感染科——三楼　（龙痘疮、消失症、淋巴真菌炎等传染病）药剂和植物中毒科——四楼　（皮疹、反胃、大笑不止等）魔咒伤害科——五楼（去不掉的魔咒、用错的魔咒等）茶室和商店——六楼如果不知去哪一科，不能正常说话，或不记得为何事而来，我们的接待员愿意帮忙。

    -325　？一个老态龙钟、带着喇叭形助听器的男巫慢慢蹭到前面：“我来看望布罗德里克博德！”他带着哮喘声说。“四十九病房，但恐怕你是在浪费时间，”女巫随口答道，“他完全糊涂了，还当自己是茶壶呢？？下一个！，‘一个脸色疲惫的男巫紧紧抓着小女儿的脚脖子，她那件连裤衫背部长出来的一对大羽毛翅膀在他脑袋旁边拍打着。”五楼。“女巫问都没问就厌倦地说，那男子举着女儿从旁边的双扇门走了出去，像举着一个奇特的气球，”下一个！“韦斯莱夫人走到桌前。”你好，我丈夫亚瑟韦斯莱今天早上换病房，请问——　？“　”亚瑟韦斯莱？“女巫用手指顺着一张长长的单子往下找，”哦，二楼，右边第二个门，戴卢埃林病房。“”谢谢。“韦斯莱夫人说，”跟我来。“

    他们随她穿过双扇门，走过一条狭窄的走廊，两边是著名治疗师的肖像，装有蜡烛的水晶泡泡飘在天花板上，看上去像巨大的肥皂泡。各个门口有穿绿袍的巫师进进出出，有一扇门里飘出一股黄色的臭气，不时听到隐隐的哀号声。他们登上楼梯，进了生物伤害科，右边第二个门上写着“危险”戴卢埃林病房：重度咬伤。底下一张铜框镶嵌的卡片上有手写的字样：主治疗师：希伯克拉特斯梅绥克；实习治疗师：奥古斯都派伊。

    “我们在外面等吧，莫丽，”唐克斯说，“亚瑟一次不能见太多的人？？应该家里人先进。”

    疯眼汉赞同地咕噜了一声，背靠在墙上，魔眼骨碌碌地转动着。哈利也往后缩，但韦斯莱夫人伸手把他推进了门，说：“别傻了，哈利，亚瑟想谢谢你？？”

    病房挺小，暗暗的，只有门对面的墙上高处开了一个窄窄的窗户。光线主要由聚在天花板中央的水晶泡泡提供。栎木镶板的墙上挂着一个邪里邪气的男巫的肖像，上面写着：厄克特拉哈罗（1612—　1697），掏肠咒发明者。

    只有三个病人。韦斯莱先生的病床在房间最里头，小窗户旁边。哈利欣慰地看到他靠在几个枕头上，就着那正好落到他床上的惟一一道阳光看《预言家日报》。他们走过去时他抬起头，看到是谁之后，高兴地笑了起来。

    “你好！”他把《预言家日报》扔到一边，叫道，“莫丽，比尔刚走，上班去了，但他说会去看你。”

    “你怎么样，亚瑟？”韦斯莱夫人俯身吻了吻他的面颊，担心地看着他的脸问，“看上去还有点憔悴。”

    -326　？“我感觉很好，”韦斯莱先生愉快地说，伸出那只没受伤的胳膊抱了抱金妮。“要是他们能把绷带拆掉的话，我都可以回家了。”

    “为什么不能拆，爸爸？”弗雷德问。

    “因为每次拆的时候我都流血不止，”韦斯莱先生轻松地说，伸手拿过搁在床头柜上的魔杖，轻轻一挥，床边多了六把椅子，“好像那条蛇的毒液里有一种特殊成分，能阻止伤口愈合？？但他们相信能找到解药，他们说见过比我严重得多的情况，我现在只是要每小时服用一种补血药。可那一位，”他压低嗓门，把头朝对面床上一点，一个脸色发绿的男子躺在那儿，眼睛盯着天花板，“被狼人咬了，可怜的人，治不了了。”

    “狼人？”韦斯莱夫人惊恐地小声说，“他在公共病房安全吗？不用单独隔离吗？”

    “离满月还有两星期呢，”韦斯莱先生平静地提醒她，“治疗师今天早上跟他谈话了，想让他相信他可以过几乎正常的生活。我跟他说我认识一个狼人——　当然没提名字。我说他人很好，过得也不错。”

    “他说什么？”乔治问。

    “说我要是不闭嘴他就让我挨一下咬。”韦斯莱先生悲哀地说，“那边那个女的，”他指指门边剩下的那一张有人的病床，“不肯告诉治疗师她是给什么东西咬的，我们猜一定是她非法搞的东西。它把她腿上的肉咬下了一大块。换绷带的时候那个难闻呀。”

    “跟我们说说你怎么受伤的吧，爸爸？”弗雷德把椅子朝床边拖了拖，问道。

    “你们都知道了，是不是？”韦斯莱先生说，意味深长地朝哈利笑了一下，“很简单——　我过了长长的一天，打了个瞌睡，就被咬了。”

    “《预言家日报》里说你受伤了吗？”弗雷德指着他爸爸丢在一边的报纸问。

    “没有，当然没有，”韦斯莱先生略带苦涩地一笑，“魔法部不会希望人人都知道一条肮脏的大蛇——　”

    “亚瑟！”韦斯莱夫人警告道。

    “——　啊——　偷袭了我。”韦斯莱先生忙说，但哈利觉得这不是他本来要说的话。

    “当时你在哪儿，爸爸？”乔治问。

    “那是我的事。”韦斯莱先生说，但嘴角还带着笑。他抓起《预言家日报》，抖开来说，“我刚刚正在看威利威德辛被捕的报道。你们知道去年夏天厕所污水回涌是威利干的吗？他的一个魔咒出了问题，厕所爆炸了，他们发现他昏迷不醒地躺在一片废墟中，从头到脚淹在——　”

    “你说你在‘值班’，”弗雷德低声打断他问，“你究竟做什么呢？”

    “你爸爸说了，”韦斯莱夫人小声说，“在这里不谈这个！继续说威利威德辛-327　？吧，亚瑟——　”　“别问我为什么，厕所爆炸一事居然没定他的罪，”韦斯莱先生低声说，“我只能猜测有金钱交易——　”　“你在看守它，是不是？”乔治低声问，“那件武器。神秘人要找的东西？”“乔治，安静！”他母亲训斥道。

    “反正，”韦斯莱先生提高了嗓门，“这一回威利是在向麻瓜出售咬人的门把手时被抓获的。我想他逃不掉了，因为文章中说，两个麻瓜被咬掉了手指，正在圣芒戈接受骨骼再生和记忆修改的急救。想想吧，麻瓜进了圣芒戈！不知道他们在哪个病房？”

    他环顾四周，好像希望看到指示牌。

    “哈利，你不是说神秘人有条蛇吗？”弗雷德问，一边看着他爸爸的反应。“好大的一条？你在他复活的那天晚上看到的，对不对？”

    “够了。”韦斯莱夫人生气地说，“疯眼汉和唐克斯在外面呢，亚瑟，他们想进来看你。你们可以出去等，”她又对她的孩子和哈利说，“待会儿再进来说再见。去吧？？”

    他们退到走廊上。疯眼汉和唐克斯走进去关上了房门。弗雷德扬起了眉毛。

    “好啊，”他冷冷地说，手在口袋里摸索着，“就那样吧，什么也别告诉我们。”

    “找这个吗？”乔治说，递过一团肉色细绳状的东西。

    “你是我肚里的蛔虫，”弗雷德咧嘴一笑，“看看圣芒戈是不是在病房门上加了抗扰咒，好吗？”

    他和乔治打开线团，分开五个伸缩耳分给大家，哈利犹豫着拿不拿。

    “拿吧，哈利！你救了爸爸的命，如果谁有权利偷听他讲话，那就是你了？？”

    哈利禁不住笑了，拿起线头，像兄弟俩那样把它塞到耳朵里。

    “好，走吧！”弗雷德小声说。

    肉色的细绳像长虫般地蠕动着，一扭一扭地从门底下钻了进去。一开始哈利什么也听不见，然后他听到唐克斯在小声说话，清晰得就像在他身边一样，把他吓了一跳。

    “？？他们把那里搜遍了，就是找不到那条蛇，它好像咬了你之后就消失了？？可是神秘人不可能会指望一条蛇进去吧？”

    “我想他是放它出来侦察的，”穆迪的粗嗓门说，“因为他至今没什么进展，对吧？我估计他是想探探情况，如果亚瑟不在那儿，那畜生就会有时间多看看。波特说他看到了全过程？”

    “对，”韦斯莱夫人的声音有点不安，“你知道，邓布利多似乎一直在等着哈利-328　？看到这种事？？”“啊，”穆迪说，“波特那孩子是有点怪，我们都知道。”

    “今天早上邓布利多跟我说话的时候，好像有些担心哈利。”韦斯莱夫人小声说。

    “他当然担心了，”穆迪粗声说，“那孩子通过神秘人的蛇的眼睛看东西。波特显然不知道这意味着什么，但如果神秘人附在他身上——　”

哈利把伸缩耳摘了下来，心怦怦乱跳，脸上火辣辣的。他看看其他人，他们都望着他，线还挂在耳朵上，脸上带着突如其来的惊恐。

St. Mungo's Hosptial for Magical Maladies and Injuries

Harry was so relieved she was taking him seriously that he did not hesitate, but jumped out of bed at once, pulled on his dressing gown and pushed his glasses back on to his nose.
‘Weasley, you ought to come too,’ said Professor McGonagall.
They followed Professor McGonagall past the silent figures of Neville, Dean and Seamus, out of the dormitory down the spiral stairs into the common room, through the portrait hole and off along the Fat Lady's moonlit corridor. Harry felt as though the panic inside him might spill over at any moment; he wanted to run, to yell for Dumbledore; Mr. Weasley was bleeding as they walked along so sedately and what if those fangs (Harry tried hard not to think ‘my fangs') had been poisonous? They passed Mrs. Norris, who turned her lamplike eyes upon them and hissed faintly but Professor McGonagall said, ‘Shoo!’ Mrs. Norris slunk away into the shadows, and in a few minutes they had reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore s office.
‘Fizzing Whizzbee,’ said Professor McGonagall.
The gargoyle sprang to life and leapt aside; the wall behind it split in two to reveal a stone staircase that was moving continually upwards like a spiral escalator. The three of them stepped on to the moving stairs; the wall closed behind them with a thud and they were moving upwards in tight circles until they reached the highly polished oak door with the brass knocker shaped like a griffin.
Though it was now well past midnight there were voices coming from inside the room, a positive babble of them. It sounded as though Dumbledore was entertaining at least a dozen people.
Professor McGonagall rapped three times with the griffin knocker and the voices ceased abruptly as though someone had switched them all off. The door opened of its own accord and Professor McGonagall led Harry and Ron inside.
The room was in half-darkness; the strange silver instruments standing on tables were silent and still rather than whirring and emitting puffs of smoke as they usually did; the portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses covering the walls were all snoozing in their frames. Behind the door, a magnificent red and gold bird the size of a swan dozed on its perch with its head under its wing.
‘Oh, it's you, Professor McGonagall ... and ... ah.’
Dumbledore was sitting in a high-backed chair behind his desk; he leaned forward into the pool of candlelight illuminating the papers laid out before him. He was wearing a magnificently embroidered purple and gold dressing gown over a snowy white nightshirt, but seemed wide-awake, his penetrating light blue eyes fixed intently upon Professor McGonagall.
‘Professor Dumbledore, Potter has had a ... well, a nightmare,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘He says ...’
‘It wasn't a nightmare,’ said Harry quickly.
Professor McGonagall looked round at Harry, frowning slightly.
‘Very well, then, Potter, you tell the Headmaster about it.’
‘I ... well, I was asleep ...’ said Harry and, even in his terror and his desperation to make Dumbledore understand, he felt slightly irritated that the Headmaster was not looking at him, but examining his own interlocked fingers. ‘But it wasn't an ordinary dream ... it was real ... I saw it happen ...’ He took a deep breath, ‘Ron's dad—Mr. Weasley—has been attacked by a giant snake.’
The words seemed to reverberate in the air after he had said them, sounding slightly ridiculous, even comic. There was a pause in which Dumbledore leaned back and stared meditatively at the ceiling. Ron looked from Harry to Dumbledore, white-faced and shocked.
‘How did you see this?’ Dumbledore asked quietly, still not looking at Harry.
‘Well ... I don't know,’ said Harry, rather angrily—what did it matter? ‘Inside my head, I suppose—’
‘You misunderstand me,’ said Dumbledore, still in the same calm tone. ‘I mean ... can you remember—er—where you were positioned as you watched this attack happen? Were you perhaps standing beside the victim, or else looking down on the scene from above?’
This was such a curious question that Harry gaped at Dumbledore; it was almost as though he knew ...
‘I was the snake,’ he said. ‘I saw it all from the snake's point of view.’
Nobody else spoke for a moment, then Dumbledore, now looking at Ron who was still whey-faced, asked in a new and sharper voice, ‘Is Arthur seriously injured?’
‘Yes,’ said Harry emphatically—why were they all so slow on the uptake, did they not realise how much a person bled when fangs that long pierced their side? And why could Dumbledore not do him the courtesy of looking at him?
But Dumbledore stood up, so quickly it made Harry jump, and addressed one of the old portraits hanging very near the ceiling. ‘Everard?’ he said sharply. ‘And you too, Dilys!’
A sallow-faced wizard with a short black fringe and an elderly witch with long silver ringlets in the frame beside him, both of whom seemed to have been in the deepest of sleeps, opened their eyes immediately.
‘You were listening?’ said Dumbledore.
The wizard nodded; the witch said, ‘Naturally.’
‘The man has red hair and glasses,’ said Dumbledore. ‘Everard, you will need to raise the alarm, make sure he is found by the right people—’
Both nodded and moved sideways out of their frames, but instead of emerging in neighbouring pictures (as usually happened at Hogwarts) neither reappeared. One frames now contained nothing but a backdrop of dark curtain, the other a handsome leather armchair. Harry noticed that many of the other headmasters and mistresses on the walls, though snoring and drooling most convincingly, kept sneaking peeks at him from under their eyelids, and he suddenly understood who had been talking when they had knocked.
‘Everard and Dilys were two of Hogwartss most celebrated Heads,’ Dumbledore said, now sweeping around Harry, Ron and Professor McGonagall to approach the magnificent sleeping bird on his perch beside the door. ‘Their renown is such that both have portraits hanging in other important wizarding institutions. As they are free to move between their own portraits, they can tell us what may be happening elsewhere ...’
‘But Mr. Weasley could be anywhere!’ said Harry.
‘Please sit down, all three of you,’ said Dumbledore, as though Harry had not spoken, ‘Everard and Dilys may not be back for several minutes. Professor McGonagall, if you could draw up extra chairs.’
Professor McGonagall pulled her wand from the pocket of her dressing gown and waved it; three chairs appeared out of thin air, straight-backed and wooden, quite unlike the comfortable chintz armchairs that Dumbledore had conjured up at Harry's hearing. Harry sat down, watching Dumbledore over his shoulder. Dumbledore was now stroking Fawkes's plumed golden head with one finger. The phoenix awoke immediately. He stretched his beautiful head high and observed Dumbledore through bright, dark eyes.
‘We will need,’ Dumbledore said very quietly to the bird, ‘a warning.’
There was a flash of fire and the phoenix had gone.
Dumbledore now swooped down upon one of the fragile silver instruments whose function Harry had never known, carried it over to his desk, sat down facing them again and tapped it gently with the tip of his wand.
The instrument tinkled into life at once with rhythmic clinking noises. Tiny puffs of pale green smoke issued from the minuscule silver tube at the top. Dumbledore watched the smoke closely, his brow furrowed. After a few seconds, the tiny puffs became a steady stream of smoke that thickened and coiled in the air ... a serpent's head grew out of the end of it, opening its mouth wide. Harry wondered whether the instrument was confirming his story: he looked eagerly at Dumbledore for a sign that he was right, but Dumbledore did not look up.
‘Naturally, naturally,’ murmured Dumbledore apparently to himself, still observing the stream of smoke without the slightest sign of surprise. ‘But in essence divided?’
Harry could make neither head nor tail of this question. The smoke serpent, however, split itself instantly into two snakes, both coiling and undulating in the dark air. With a look of grim satisfaction, Dumbledore gave the instrument another gentle tap with his wand: the clinking noise slowed and died and the smoke serpents grew faint, became a formless haze and vanished.
Dumbledore replaced the instrument on its spindly little table. Harry saw many of the old headmasters in the portraits follow him with their eyes, then, realising that Harry was watching them, hastily pretend to be sleeping again. Harry wanted to ask what the strange silver instrument was for, but before he could do so, there was a shout from the top of the wall to their right; the wizard called Everard had reappeared in his portrait., panting slightly.
‘Dumbledore!’
‘What news?’ said Dumbledore at once.
‘I yelled until someone came running,’ said the wizard, who was mopping his brow on the curtain behind him, ‘said I'd heard something moving downstairs—they weren't sure whether to believe me but went down to check—you know there are no portraits down there to watch from. Anyway, they carried him up a few minutes later. He doesn't look good, he's covered in blood, I ran along to Elfrida Cragg's portrait to get a good view as they left—’
‘Good,’ said Dumbledore as Ron made a convulsive movement. ‘I take it Dilys will have seen him arrive, then—’
And moments later, the silver-ringleted witch had reappeared in her picture, too; she sank, coughing, into her armchair and said, ‘Yes, they've taken him to St. Mungo's, Dumbledore ... they carried him past my portrait ... he looks bad ...’
‘Thank you,’ said Dumbledore. He looked round at Professor McGonagall.
‘Minerva, I need you to go and wake the other Weasley children.’
‘Of course ...’
Professor McGonagall got up and moved swiftly to the door. Harry cast a sideways glance at Ron, who was looking terrified.
‘And Dumbledore— what about Molly?’ said Professor McGonagall, pausing at the door.
‘That will be a job for Fawkes when he has finished keeping a lookout for anybody approaching,’ said Dumbledore. ‘But she may already know ... that excellent clock of hers ...’
Harry knew Dumbledore was referring to the clock that told, not the time, but the whereabouts and conditions of the various Weasley family members, and with a pang he thought that Mr. Weasley's hand must, even now, be pointing at mortal peril.But it was very late. Mrs. Weasley was probably asleep, not watching the clock. Harry felt cold as he remembered Mrs. Weasley's boggart turning into Mr. Weasley's lifeless body, his glasses askew, blood running down his face ... but Mr. Weasley wasn't going to die ... he couldn't ...
Dumbledore was now rummaging in a cupboard behind Harry and Ron. He emerged from it carrying a blackened old kettle, which he placed carefully on his desk. He raised his wand and murmured, ‘Portus!’ For a moment the kettle trembled, glowing with an odd blue light; then it quivered to rest, as solidly black as ever.
Dumbledore marched over to another portrait, this time of a clever-looking wizard with a pointed beard, who had been painted wearing the Slytherin colours of green and silver and was apparently sleeping so deeply that he could not hear Dumbledore's voice when he attempted to rouse him.
‘Phineas. Phineas.’
The subjects of the portraits lining the room were no longer pretending to be asleep; they were shifting around in their frames, the better to watch what was happening. When the clever-looking wizard continued to feign sleep, some of them shouted his name, too.
‘Phineas! Phineas! PHINEAS!’
He could not pretend any longer; he gave a theatrical jerk and opened his eyes wide.
‘Did someone call?’
‘I need you to visit your other portrait again, Phineas,’ said Dumbledore. ‘I've got another message.’
‘Visit my other portrait?’ said Phineas in a reedy voice, giving a long, fake yawn (his eyes travelling around the room and focusing on Harry). ‘Oh, no, Dumbledore, I am too tired tonight.’
Something about Phineas's voice was familiar to Harry, where had he heard it before? But before he could think, the portraits on the surrounding walls broke into a storm of protest.
‘Insubordination, sir!’ roared a corpulent, red-nosed wizard, brandishing his fists. ‘Dereliction of duty!’
‘We are honour-bound to give service to the present Headmaster of Hogwarts!’ cried a frail-looking old wizard whom Harry recognised as Dumbledore's predecessor, Armando Dippet. ‘Sharne on you, Phineas!’
‘Shall I persuade him, Dumbledore?’ called a gimlet-eyed witch, raising an unusually thick wand that looked not unlike a birch rod.
‘Oh, very well,’ said the wizard called Phineas, eyeing the wand with mild apprehension, ‘though he may well have destroyed my picture by now, he's done away with most of the family—’
‘Sirius knows not to destroy your portrait,’ said Dumbledore, and Harry realised immediately where he had heard Phineas's voice before: issuing from the apparently empty frame in his bedroom in Grimmauld Place. ‘You are to give him the message that Arthur Weasley has been gravely injured and that his wife, children and Harry Potter will be arriving at his house shortly. Do you understand?’
‘Arthur Weasley, injured, wife and children and Harry Potter coming to stay,’ repeated Phineas in a bored voice. ‘Yes, yes ... very well ...’
He sloped away into the frame of the portrait and disappeared from view at the very moment the study door opened again. Fred, George and Ginny were ushered inside by Professor McGonagall, all three of them looking dishevelled and shocked, still in their night things.
‘Harry—what's going on?’ asked Ginny, who looked frightened. ‘Professor McGonagall says you saw Dad get hurt—’
‘Your father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix,’ said Dumbledore, before Harry could speak. ‘He has been taken to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am sending you back to Sirius's house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than The Burrow. You will meet your mother there.’
‘How're we going?’ asked Fred, looking shaken. ‘Floo powder?’
‘No,’ said Dumbledore, ‘Floo powder is not safe at the moment, the Network is being watched. You will be taking a Portkey.’ He indicated the old kettle lying innocently on his desk. ‘We are just waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report back ... I want to be sure that the coast is clear before sending you—’
There was a flash of flame in the very middle of: the office, leaving behind a single golden feather that floated gently to the floor.
‘It is Fawkes's warning,’ said Dumbledore, catching the feather as it fell. ‘Professor Umbridge must know you're out of your beds ... Minerva, go and head her off—tell her any story—’
Professor McGonagall was gone in a swish of tartan.
‘He says he'll be delighted,’ said a bored voice behind Dumbledore; the wizard called Phineas had reappeared in front of his Slytherin banner. ‘My great-great-grandson has always had an odd taste in house-guests.’
‘Come here, then,’ Dumbledore said to Harry and the Weasleys. ‘And quickly, before anyone else joins us.’
Harry and the others gathered around Dumbledore's desk.
‘You have all used a Portkey before?’ asked Dumbledore, and they nodded, each reaching out to touch some part of the blackened kettle. ‘Good. On the count of three, then ... one ... two ...’
It happened in a fraction of a second: in the infinitesimal pause before Dumbledore said ‘three', Harry looked up at him—they were very close together—and Dumbledore's clear blue gaze moved from the Portkey to Harry's face.
At once, Harry's scar burned white-hot, as though the old wound had burst open again—and unbidden, unwanted, but terrifyingly strong, there rose within Harry a hatred so powerful he felt, for that instant, he would like nothing better than to strike—to bite—to sink his fangs into the man before him—
‘... three.’
Harry felt a powerful jerk behind his navel, the ground vanished from beneath his feet, his hand was glued to the kettle; he was banging into the others as they all sped forwards in a swirl of colours and a rush of wind, the kettle pulling them onwards ... until his feet hit the ground so hard his knees buckled, the kettle clattered to the ground, and somewhere close at hand a voice said:
‘Back again, the blood-traitor brats. Is it true their father's dying?’
‘OUT!’ roared a second voice.
Harry scrambled to his feet and looked around; they had arrived in the gloomy basement kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The only sources of light were the fire and one guttering candle, which illuminated the remains of a solitary supper. Kreacher was disappearing through the door to the hall, looking back at them malevolently as he hitched up his loincloth; Sirius was hurrying towards them all, looking anxious. He was unshaven and still in his day clothes; there was also a slightly Mundungus-like whiff of stale drink about him.
‘What's going on?’ he said, stretching out a hand to help Ginny up. ‘Thineas Nigellus said Arthur's been badly injured—’
‘Ask Harry,’ said Fred.
‘Yeah, I want to hear this for myself,’ said George.
The twins and Ginny were staring at him. Kreacher's footsteps had stopped on the stairs outside.
‘It was—’ Harry began; this was even worse than telling McGonagall and Dumbledore. ‘I had a—a kind of—vision ...’
And he told them all that he had seen, though he altered the story so that it sounded as though he had watched from the sidelines as the snake attacked, rather than from behind the snake's own eyes. Ron, who was still very white, gave him a fleeting look, but did not speak. When Harry had finished, Fred, George and Ginny continued to stare at him for a moment. Harry did not know whether he was imagining it or not, but he fancied there was something accusatory in their looks. Well, if they were going to blame him just for seeing the attack, he was glad he had not told them that he had been inside the snake at the time.
‘Is Mum here?’ said Fred, turning to Sirius.
‘She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet,’ said Sirius. ‘The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore's letting Molly know now.’
‘We've got to go to St. Mungos,’ said Ginny urgently, She looked around at her brothers; they were of course still in their pyjamas. ‘Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything?’
‘Hang on, you can't go tearing off to St. Mungo's!’ said Sirius.
‘Course we can go to St. Mungo's if we want,’ said Fred, with a mulish expression. ‘He's our dad!’
‘And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?’
‘What does that matter?’ said George hotly.
‘It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!’ said Sirius angrily. ‘Have you any idea what the Ministry would make off that information?’
Fred and George looked as though they could not care less what the Ministry made of anything. Ron was still ashen-faced and silent.
Ginny said, ‘Somebody else could have told us ... we could have heard it somewhere other than Harry.’
‘Like who?’ said Sirius impatiently. ‘Listen, your dad's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order's—’
‘We don't care about the dumb Order!’ shouted Fred.
‘It's our dad dying we're talking about!’ yelled George.
‘Your father knew what he was getting into and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order!’ said Sirius, equally angry. ‘This is how it is—this is why you're not in the Order—you don't understand—there are things worth dying for!’
‘Easy for you to say, stuck here!’ bellowed Fred. ‘I don't see you risking your neck!’
The little colour remaining in Sirius's face drained from it. He looked for a moment as though he would quite like to hit Fred, but when he spoke, it was in a voice of determined calm.
‘I know it's hard, but we've all got to act as though we don't know anything yet. We've got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?’
Fred and George still looked mutinous. Ginny, however, took a few steps over to the nearest chair and sank into it. Harry looked at Ron, who made a funny movement somewhere between a nod and a shrug, and they sat down too. The twins glared at Sirius for another minute, then took seats either side of Ginny.
‘That's right,’ said Sirius encouragingly, ‘come on, lets all ... let's all have a drink while we're waiting. Accio Butterbeer!’
He raised his wand as he spoke and half a dozen bottles came flying towards them out of the pantry, skidded along the table, scattering the debris of Sirius's meal, and stopped neatly in front of the six of them. They all drank, and for a while the only sounds were those of the crackling of the kitchen fire and the soft thud of their bottles on the table.
Harry was only drinking to have something to do with his hands. His stomach was full of horrible hot, bubbling guilt. They would not be here if it were not for him; they would all still be asleep in bed. And it was no good telling himself that by raising the alarm he had ensured that Mr. Weasley was found, because there was also the inescapable business of it being he who had attacked Mr. Weasley in the first place.
Don't be stupid, you haven't got fangs, he told himself, trying to keep calm, though the hand on his Butterbeer bottle was shaking, you were lying in bed, you weren't attacking anyone ...
But then, what just happened in Dumbledore's office? he asked himself. I felt like I wanted to attack Dumbledore, too ...
He put the bottle down a little harder than he meant to, and it slopped over on to the table. No one took any notice. Then a burst of fire in midair illuminated the dirty plates in front of them and, as they gave cries of shock, a scroll of parchment fell with a thud on to the table, accompanied by a single golden phoenix tail feather.
‘Fawkes!’ said Sirius at once, snatching up the parchment. ‘That's not Dumbledore's writing— it must be a message from your mother—here—’
He thrust the letter into George's hand, who ripped it open and read aloud: ‘Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St. Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum.’
George looked around the table.
‘Still alive ...’ he said slowly. ‘But that makes it sound ...’
He did not need to finish the sentence. It sounded to Harry, too, as though Mr. Weasley was hovering somewhere between life and death. Still exceptionally pale, Ron stared at the back of his mother's letter as though it might speak words of comfort to him. Fred pulled the parchment out of George's hands and read it for himself, then looked up at Harry, who felt his hand shaking on his Butterbeer bottle again and clenched it more tightly to stop the trembling.
If Harry had ever sat through a longer night than this one, he could not remember it. Sirius suggested once, without any real conviction, that they all go to bed, but the Weasleys’ looks of disgust were answer enough. They mostly sat in silence around the table, watching the candle wick sinking lower and lower into liquid wax, occasionally raising a bottle to their lips, speaking only to check the time, to wonder aloud what was happening, and to reassure each other that if there was bad news, they would know straightaway, for Mrs. Weasley must long since have arrived at St. Mungo's.
Fred fell into a doze, his head lolling sideways on to his shoulder. Ginny was curled like a cat on her chair, but her eyes were open; Harry could see them reflecting the firelight. Ron was sitting with his head in his hands, whether awake or asleep it was impossible to tell. Harry and Sirius looked at each other every so often, intruders upon the family grief, waiting ... waiting ...
At ten past five in the morning by Ron's watch, the kitchen door swung open and Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen. She was extremely pale, but when they all turned to look at her, Fred, Ron and Harry half rising from their chairs, she gave a wan smile.
‘He's going to be all right,’ she said, her voice weak with tiredness. ‘He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now; he's going to take the morning off work.’
Fred fell back into his chair with his hands over his face. George and Ginny got up, walked swiftly over to their mother and hugged her. Ron gave a very shaky laugh and downed the rest of his Butterbeer in one.
‘Breakfast!’ said Sirius loudly and joyfully, jumping to his feet. ‘Where's that accursed house-elf? Kreacher! KREACHER!’
But Kreacher did not answer the summons.
‘Oh, forget it, then,’ muttered Sirius, counting the people in front of him. ‘So, it's breakfast for—let's see—seven ... bacon and eggs, I think, and some tea, and toast—’
Harry hurried over to the stove to help. He did not want to intrude on the Weasleys’ happiness and he dreaded the moment when Mrs. Weasley would ask him to recount his vision. However, he had barely taken plates from the dresser when Mrs Weasley lifted them out of his hands and pulled him into a hug.
‘I don't know what would have happened if it hadn't been for you, Harry’ she said in a muffled voice. ‘They might not have found Arthur for hours, and then it would have been too late, but thanks to you he's alive and Dumbledore's been able to think up a good cover story for Arthur being where he was, you've no idea what trouble he would have been in otherwise, look at poor Sturgis ...’
Harry could hardly bear her gratitude, but fortunately she soon released him to turn to Sirius and thank him for looking after her children through the night. Sirius said he was very pleased to have been able to help, and hoped they would all stay with him as long as Mr. Weasley was in hospital.
‘Oh, Sirius, I'm so grateful ... they think he'll be there a little while and it would be wonderful to be nearer ... of course, that might mean we're here for Christmas.’
‘The more the merrier!’ said Sirius with such obvious sincerity that Mrs. Weasley beamed at him, threw on an apron and began to help with breakfast.
‘Sirius,’ Harry muttered, unable to stand it a moment longer. ‘Can I have a quick word? Er— now?’
He walked into the dark pantry and Sirius followed. Without preamble, Harry told his godfather every detail of the vision he had had, including the fact that he himself had been the snake who had attacked Mr. Weasley.
When he paused for breath, Sirius said, ‘Did you tell Dumbledore this?’
‘Yes,’ said Harry impatiently,’ but he didn't tell me what it meant. Well, he doesn't tell me anything any more.’
‘I ‘m sure he would have told you if it was anything to worry about,’ said Sirius steadily.
‘But that's not all,’ said Harry, in a voice only a little above a whisper. ‘Sirius, I ... I think I'm going mad. Back in Dumbledore's office, just before we took the Portkey ... for a couple of seconds there I thought I was a snake, I felt like one—my scar really hurt when I was looking at Dumbledore—Sirius, I wanted to attack him!’
He could only see a sliver of Sirius's face; the rest was in darkness.
‘It must have been the aftermath of the vision, that's all,’ said Sirius. ‘You were still thinking of the dream or whatever it was and—’
‘It wasn't that,’ said Harry, shaking his head, ‘it was like something rose up inside me, like there's a snake inside me.’
‘You need to sleep,’ said Sirius firmly. ‘You're going to have breakfast, then go upstairs to bed, and after lunch you can go and see Arthur with the others. You're in shock, Harry; you're blaming yourself for something you only witnessed, and it's lucky you did witness it or Arthur might have died. Just stop worrying.’
He clapped Harry on the shoulder and left the pantry, leaving Harry standing alone in the dark.
Everyone but Harry spent the rest of the morning sleeping. He went up to the bedroom he and Ron had shared over the last few weeks of summer, but while Ron crawled into bed and was asleep within minutes, Harry sat fully clothed, hunched against the cold metal bars of the bedstead, keeping himself deliberately uncomfortable, determined not to fall into a doze, terrified that he might become the serpent again in his sleep and wake to find that he had attacked Ron, or else slithered through the house after one of the others ...
When Ron woke up, Harry pretended to have enjoyed a refreshing nap too. Their trunks arrived from Hogwarts while they were eating lunch, so they could dress as Muggles for the trip to St. Mungo's. Everybody except Harry was riotously happy and talkative as they changed out of their robes into jeans and sweatshirts. When Tonks and Mad-Eye turned up to escort them across London, they greeted them gleefully, laughing at the bowler hat Mad-Eye was wearing at an angle to conceal his magical eye and assuring him, truthfully, that Tonks, whose hair was short and bright pink again, would attract far less attention on the Underground.
Tonks was very interested in Harry's vision of the attack on Mr. Weasley, something Harry was not remotely interested in discussing.
‘There isn't any Seer blood in your family, is there?’ she enquired curiously, as they sat side by side on a train rattling towards the heart of the city.
‘No,’ said Harry thinking of Professor Trelawney and feeling insulted.
‘No,’ said Tonks musingly, ‘no, I suppose it's not really prophecy you're doing, is it? I mean, you're not seeing the future, you're seeing the present ... it's odd, isn't it? Useful, though ...’
Harry didn't answer; fortunately, they got out at the next stop, a station in the very heart of London, and in the bustle of leaving the train he was able to allow Fred and George to get between himself and Tonks, who was leading the way. They all followed her up the escalator, Moody clunking along at the back of the group, his bowler tilted low and one gnarled hand stuck in between the buttons of his coat, clutching his wand. Harry thought he sensed the concealed eye staring hard at him. Trying to avoid any more questions about his dream, he asked Mad-Eye where St. Mungo's was hidden.
‘Not far from here,’ grunted Moody as they stepped out into the wintry air on a broad store-lined street packed with Christmas shoppers. He pushed Harry a little ahead of him and stumped along just behind; Harry knew the eye was rolling in all directions under the tilted hat. ‘Wasn't easy to find a good location for a hospital. Nowhere in Diagon Alley was big enough and we couldn't have it underground like the Ministry—wouldn't be healthy. In the end they managed to get hold of a building up here. Theory was, sick wizards could come and go and just blend in with the crowd.’
He seized Harry's shoulder to prevent them being separated by a gaggle of shoppers plainly intent on nothing but making it into a nearby shop full of electrical gadgets.
‘Here we go,’ said Moody a moment later.
They had arrived outside a large, old-fashioned, red-brick department store called Purge & Dowse Ltd. The place had a shabby, miserable air; the window displays consisted of a few chipped dummies with their wigs askew, standing at random and modelling fashions at least ten years out of date. Large signs on all the dusty doors read: ‘Closed for Refurbishment'. Harry distinctly heard a large woman laden with plastic shopping bags say to her friend as they passed, ‘It's never open, that place ...’
‘Right,’ said Tonks, beckoning them towards a window displaying nothing but a particularly ugly female dummy. Its false eyelashes were hanging off and it was modelling a green nylon pinafore dress. ‘Everybody ready?’
They nodded, clustering around her. Moody gave Harry another shove between the shoulder blades to urge him forward and Tonks leaned close to the glass, looking up at the very ugly dummy, her breath steaming up the glass. ‘Wotcher,’ she said, ‘we're here to see Arthur Weasley.’
Harry thought how absurd it was for Tonks to expect the dummy to hear her talking so quietly through a sheet of glass, with buses rumbling along behind her and all the racket of a street full of shoppers. Then he reminded himself that dummies couldn't hear anyway. Next second, his mouth opened in shock as the dummy gave a tiny nod and beckoned with its jointed finger, and Tonks had seized Ginny and Mrs. Weasley by the elbows, stepped right through the glass and vanished.
Fred, George and Ron stepped after them. Harry glanced around at the jostling crowd; not one of them seemed to have a glance to spare for window displays as ugly as those of Purge & Dowse Ltd; nor did any of them seem to have noticed that six people had just melted into thin air in front of them.
‘C'mon,’ growled Moody, giving Harry yet another poke in the back, and together they stepped forward through what felt like a sheet of cool water, emerging quite warm and dry on the other side.
There was no sign of the ugly dummy or the space where she had stood. They were in what seemed to be a crowded reception area where rows of witches and wizards sat upon rickety wooden chairs, some looking perfectly normal and perusing out-of-date copies of Witch Weekly, others sporting gruesome disfigurements such as elephant trunks or extra hands sticking out of their chests. The room was scarcely less quiet than the street outside, for many of the patients were making very peculiar noises: a sweaty-faced witch in the centre of the front row, who was fanning herself vigorously with a copy of the Daily Prophet, kept letting off a high-pitched whistle as steam came pouring out of her mouth; a grubby-looking warlock in the corner clanged like a bell every time he moved and, with each clang, his head vibrated horribly so that he had to seize himself by the ears to hold it steady.
Witches and wizards in lime-green robes were walking up and down the rows, asking questions and making notes on clipboards like Umbridge's. Harry noticed the emblem embroidered on their chests: a wand and bone, crossed.
‘Are they doctors?’ he asked Ron quietly.
‘Doctors?’ said Ron, looking startled. ‘Those Muggle nutters that cut people up? Nah, they're Healers.’
‘Over here!’ called Mrs. Weasley, above the renewed clanging of the warlock in the corner, and they followed her to the queue in front of a plump blonde witch seated at a desk marked Enquiries.The wall behind her was covered in notices and posters saying things like: A CLEAN CAULDRON KEEPS POTIONS FROM BECOMING POISONS and ANTIDOTES ARE ANTI-DON'TS UNLESS APPROVED BY A QUALIFIED HEALER. There was also a large portrait of a witch with long silver ringlets which was labelled:
Dilys Derwent
St. Mungo's Healer 1722-1741
Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
1741-1768
Dilys was eyeing the Weasley party closely as though counting them; when Harry caught her eye she gave a tiny wink, walked sideways out of her portrait and vanished.
Meanwhile, at the front of the queue, a young wizard was performing an odd on-the-spot jig and trying, in between yelps of pain, to explain his predicament to the witch behind the desk.
‘It's these— ouch—shoes my brother gave me—ow—they re eating my—OUCH—feet—look at them, there must be some kind of—AARGH—jinx on them and I can't— AAAAARGH—get them off.’ He hopped from one foot to the other as though dancing on hot coals.
‘The shoes don't prevent you reading, do they?’ said the blonde witch, irritably pointing at a large sign to the left of her desk. ‘You want Spell Damage, fourth floor. Just like it says on the floor guide. Next!’
As the wizard hobbled and pranced sideways out of the way, the Weasley party moved forward a few steps and Harry read the floor guide:
ARTEFACT ACCIDENTS...................................... Ground floor
Cauldron explosion, wand backfiring, broom
crashes, etc.
CREATURE-INDUCED INJURIES........................ First floor
Bites, stings, burns, embedded spines, etc.
MAGICAL BUGS.................................................... Second floor
Contagious maladies, e.g. dragon pox,
vanishing sickness, scrofungulus, etc.
POTION AND PLANT POISONING...................... Third floor
Rashes, regurgitation, uncontrollable
giggling, etc.
SPELL DAMAGE..................................................... Fourth floor
Unliftable jinxes, hexes, incorrectly
applied charms, etc.
VISITORS’ TEAROOM / HOSPITAL SHOP.......... Fifth floor

IF YOU ARE UNSURE WHERE TO GO, INCAPABLE OF NORMAL SPEECH OR UNABLE TO REMEMBER WHY YOU ARE HERE, OUR WELCOMEWITCH WILL BE PLEASED TO HELP.
A very old, stooped wizard with a hearing trumpet had shuffled to the front of the queue now. ‘I'm here to see Broderick Bode!’ he wheezed.
‘Ward forty-nine, but I'm afraid you're wasting your time,’ said the witch dismissively. ‘He's completely addled, you know—still thinks he's a teapot. Next!’
A harassed-looking wizard was holding his small daughter tightly by the ankle while she flapped around his head using the immensely large, feathery wings that had sprouted right out through the back of her romper suit.
‘Fourth floor,’ said the witch, in a bored voice, without asking, and the man disappeared through the double doors beside the desk, holding his daughter like an oddly shaped balloon. ‘Next!’
Mrs. Weasley moved forward to the desk.
‘Hello,’ she said, ‘my husband, Arthur Weasley, was supposed to be moved to a different ward this morning, could you tell us—?’
‘Arthur Weasley?’ said the witch, running her finger down a long list in front of her. ‘Yes, first floor, second door on the right, Dai Llewellyn Ward.’
Thank you,’ said Mrs. Weasley. ‘Come on, you lot.’
They followed her through the double doors and along the narrow corridor beyond, which was lined with more portraits of famous Healers and lit by crystal bubbles full of candles that floated up on the ceiling, looking like giant soapsuds. More witches and wizards in lime-green robes walked in and out of the doors they passed; a foul-smelling yellow gas wafted into the passageway as they passed one door, and every now and then they heard distant wailing. They climbed a flight of stairs and entered the Creature-Induced Injuries corridor, where the second door on the right bore the words: ‘Dangerous’ Dai Llewellyn Ward: Serious Bites.Underneath this was a card in a brass holder on which had been handwritten: Healer-in-Charge: Hippocrates Smethwyck. Trainee Healer: Augustus Pye.
‘We'll wait outside, Molly,’ Tonks said. ‘Arthur won't want too many visitors at once ... it ought to be just the family first.’
Mad-Eye growled his approval of this idea and set himself with his back against the corridor wall, his magical eye spinning in all directions. Harry drew back, too, but Mrs Weasley reached out a hand and pushed him through the door, saying, ‘Don't be silly, Harry, Arthur wants to thank you.’
The ward was small and rather dingy, as the only window was narrow and set high in the wall facing the door. Most of the light came from more shining crystal bubbles clustered in the middle of the ceiling. The walls were of panelled oak and there was a portrait of a rather vicious-looking wizard on the wall, captioned: Urquhart Rackharrow, 1612-1697, Inventor of the Entrail-expelling Curse.
There were only three patients. Mr. Weasley was occupying the bed at the far end oi the ward beside the tiny window. Harry was pleased and relieved to see that he was propped up on several pillows and reading the Daily Prophet by the solitary ray of sunlight falling on to his bed. He looked up as they walked towards him and, seeing who it was, beamed.
‘Hello!’ he called, throwing the Prophet aside. ‘Bill just left, Molly, had to get back to work, but he says he'll drop in on you later.’
‘How are you, Arthur?’ asked Mrs. Weasley, bending down to kiss his cheek and looking anxiously into his face. ‘You're still looking a bit peaky.’
‘I feel absolutely fine,’ said Mr. Weasley brightly, holding out his good arm to give Ginny a hug. ‘If they could only take the bandages off, I'd be fit to go home.’
‘Why can't they take them off, Dad?’ asked Fred.
‘Well, I start bleeding like mad every time they try,’ said Mr. Weasley cheerfully, reaching across for his wand, which lay on his bedside cabinet, and waving it so that six extra chairs appeared at his bedside to seat them all. ‘It seems there was some rather unusual kind of poison in that snake's fangs that keeps wounds open. They're sure they'll find an antidote, though; they say they've had much worse cases than mine, and in the meantime I just have to keep taking a Blood-Replenishing Potion every hour. But that fellow over there,’ he said, dropping his voice and nodding towards the bed opposite in which a man lay looking green and sickly and staring at the ceiling. ‘Bitten by a werewolf, poor chap. No cure at all.’
‘A werewolf?’ whispered Mrs. Weasley, looking alarmed. ‘Is he safe in a public ward? Shouldn't he be in a private room?’
‘It's two weeks till full moon,’ Mr. Weasley reminded her quietly. ‘They've been talking to him this morning, the Healers, you know, trying to persuade him he'll be able to lead an almost normal life. I said to him—didn't mention names, of course— but I said I knew a werewolf personally, very nice man, who finds the condition quite easy to manage.’
‘What did he say?’ asked George.
‘Said he'd give me another bite if I didn't shut up,’ said Mr. Weasley sadly. ‘And that woman over there,’ he indicated the only other occupied bed, which was right beside the door, ‘won't tell the Healers what bit her, which makes us all think it must have been something she was handling illegally. Whatever it was took a real chunk out of her leg, very nasty smell when they take off the dressings.’
‘So, you going to tell us what happened, Dad?’ asked Fred, pulling his chair closer to the bed.
‘Well, you already know, don't you?’ said Mr. Weasley, with a significant smile at Harry. ‘It's very simple—I'd had a very long day, dozed off, got sneaked up on and bitten.’
‘Is it in the Prophet, you being attacked?’ asked Fred, indicating the newspaper Mr. Weasley had cast aside.
‘No, of course not,’ said Mr. Weasley, with a slightly bitter smile, ‘the Ministry wouldn't want everyone to know a dirty great serpent got—’
‘Arthur!’ Mrs Weasley warned him.
‘—got—er— me,’ Mr. Weasley said hastily, though Harry was quite sure that was not what he had meant to say.
‘So where were you when it happened, Dad?’ asked George.
‘That's my business,’ said Mr. Weasley, though with a small smile. He snatched up the Daily Prophet, shook it open again and said, ‘I was just reading about Willy Widdershins's arrest when you arrived. You know Willy turned out to be behind those regurgitating toilets back in the summer? One of his jinxes backfired, the toilet exploded and they found him lying unconscious in the wreckage covered from head to foot in—’
‘When you say you were “on duty",’ Fred interrupted in a low voice, ‘what were you doing?’
‘You heard your father,’ whispered Mrs. Weasley, ‘we are not discussing this here! Go on about Willy Widdershins, Arthur.’
‘Well, don't ask me how, but he actually got off the toilet charge,’ said Mr. Weasley grimly. ‘I can only suppose gold changed hands—’
‘You were guarding it, weren't you?’ said George quietly. ‘The weapon? The thing You-Know-Who's after?’
‘George, be quiet!’ snapped Mrs. Weasley.
‘Anyway,’ said Mr Weasley, in a raised voice, ‘this time Willy's been caught selling biting doorknobs to Muggles and I don't think he'll be able to worm his way out of it because, according to this article, two Muggles have lost fingers and are now in St. Mungo's for emergency bone re-growth and memory modification. Just think of it, Muggles in St. Mungo's! I wonder which ward they're in?’
And he looked eagerly around as though hoping to see a signpost.
‘Didn't you say You-Know-Who's got a snake, Harry?’ asked Fred, looking at his father for a reaction. ‘A massive one? You saw it the night he returned, didn't you?’
‘That's enough,’ said Mrs. Weasley crossly. ‘Mad-Eye and Tonks are outside, Arthur, they want to come and see you. And you lot can wait outside,’ she added to her children and Harry. ‘You can come and say goodbye afterwards. Go on.’
They trooped back into the corridor. Mad-Eye and Tonks went in and closed the door of the ward behind them. Fred raised his eyebrows.
‘Fine,’ he said coolly, rummaging in his pockets, ‘be like that. Don't tell us anything.’
‘Looking for these?’ said George, holding out what looked like a tangle of flesh-coloured string.
‘You read my mind,’ said Fred, grinning. ‘Let's see if St. Mungo's puts Imperturbable Charms on its ward doors, shall we?’
He and George disentangled the string and separated five Extendable Ears from each other. Fred and George handed them around. Harry hesitated to take one.
‘Go on, Harry, take it! You saved Dad's life. If anyone's got the right to eavesdrop on him, it's you.’
Grinning in spite of himself, Harry took the end of the string and inserted it into his ear as the twins had done.
‘OK, go!’ Fred whispered.
The flesh-coloured strings wriggled like long skinny worms and snaked under the door. At first, Harry could hear nothing, then he jumped as he heard Tonks whispering as clearly as though she were standing right beside him.
‘... they searched the whole area but couldn't find the snake anywhere. It just seems to have vanished after it attacked you, Arthur ... but You-Know-Who can't have expected a snake to get in, can he?’
‘I reckon he sent it as a lookout,’ growled Moody, ’ ‘cause he's not had any luck so far, has he? No, I reckon he's trying to get a clearer picture of what he's facing and if Arthur hadn't been there the beast would've had a lot more time to look around. So, Potter says he saw it all happen?’
‘Yes,’ said Mrs Weasley. She sounded rather uneasy. ‘You know, Dumbledore seems almost to have been waiting for Harry to see something like this.’
‘Yeah, well,’ said Moody, ‘there's something funny about the Potter kid, we all know that.’
‘Dumbledore seemed worried about Harry when I spoke to him this morning,’ whispered Mrs Weasley.
’ ‘Course he's worried,’ growled Moody. ‘The boy's seeing things from inside You-Know-Who's snake. Obviously, Potter doesn't realise what that means, but if You-Know-Who's possessing him—’
Harry pulled the Extendable Ear out of his own, his heart hammering very fast and heat rushing up his face. He looked around at the others. They were all staring at him, the strings still trailing from their ears, looking suddenly fearful.

蛇眼

    星期天早上，赫敏穿过两英尺深的积雪走向海格的小屋。哈利和罗恩想陪她去，但他们的“家庭作业山”又增到了骇人的高度，所以两人不情愿地留在了公共休息室里，努力不去理睬楼下传来的欢叫声。学生们在湖上溜冰，滑雪橇，更糟糕的是，他们还用魔法使雪球飞上格兰芬多塔楼，重重地砸在窗户上。

    “喂！”罗恩终于失去了耐心，把头伸出窗外吼道，“我是级长，再有一个雪球砸到这扇窗户——　哎哟！”

    他猛地缩回头，脸上全是雪。

    “是弗雷德和乔治，”他砰地关上窗户，恨恨地说，“臭小子们？？”午饭前赫敏才从海格那儿回来，微微哆嗦着，袍子膝部以下都湿了。“怎么样？”她进来时罗恩抬起头来问，“帮他备好课了？”　“我努力了，”她没精打采地说，坐进哈利旁边的椅子，抽出魔杖花样复杂地舞了一下，杖尖冒出热气。她用它指着自己的袍子，水汽从袍子上蒸发了出去。

    -299　？“我去的时候他都不在，我在门外敲门敲了至少半小时，他才从林子里走出来——　”

    哈利呻吟了一声，禁林里多的是容易让海格被解雇的生物。“他在那儿养了什么？他说了吗？”哈利问。

    “没有，”赫敏苦恼地说，“他说他要给我们一个惊喜。我想说明乌姆里奇的情况，可他就是听不进去。他一个劲儿说脑子正常的人都不会愿意研究刺佬儿而放弃客迈拉兽①——　哦，我想他没有客迈拉兽。”看到哈利和罗恩惊恐的表情，她赶紧加了一句：“但他不是没试过，他说那是因为他不容易弄到客迈拉的蛋？？我不知多少次对他讲，用格拉普兰的教法更有利。可我真觉得他连一半都没听进去。你们知道，他有些怪怪的，还是不肯说他是怎么受的伤？？”

    海格第二天早饭时重新出现在教工桌子旁，并不是所有学生都反应热情。弗雷德、乔治和李等人热烈欢呼，冲到格兰芬多与赫奇帕奇桌子之间的过道上，拉着海格巨大的手掌握了又握。另一些人，像帕瓦蒂和拉文德等则郁闷地交换着眼色，摇着头。哈利知道他们许多人更喜欢格拉普兰教授的课。最糟糕的是，他心里有一小块公正的地方知道他们有理由：格拉普兰概念中有趣的课不是可能有人被揪掉脑袋的那种。

    星期二，哈利、罗恩和赫敏穿得严严实实地去上海格的课时，心里有些害怕。哈利不仅担心海格不知会教什么东西，还担心其他同学，尤其是马尔福及其心腹在乌姆里奇听课时的表现。

    然而，当他们在雪地上深一脚浅一脚地朝着等在林子边上的海格走去时，却没有看到高级调查官的影子。海格的样子不让人宽心，星期六夜里紫色的伤痕现在显出黄绿色，有些伤口好像还在流血。哈利不明白：难道海格受了什么怪兽的袭击，它的毒液能阻止伤口愈合？仿佛是为了完成这幅不祥的画面，海格肩上似乎还扛着半头死牛。

    “我们今天在这儿上课！”海格愉快地对学生们说，把头朝身后的黑林子一摆，“林子里密了点儿！不过，它们喜欢黑暗？？”

    “什么东西喜欢黑暗？”哈利听到马尔福尖声问克拉布和高尔，声音中带着一丝恐惧，“他说什么喜欢黑暗——　你们听见了吗？”

    哈利想起马尔福以前惟一一次进这个林子的情形，　那时他自己也不是很勇敢。哈利笑了，魁地奇比赛后凡是能让马尔福不自在的事情他都赞成。

    “准备好了吗？”海格快活地扫视着全班说，“好。我为你们五年级留了一堂林中考察课，想让你们看看这些生物在自然环境中的生活。我们今天要学习的生物非常稀有，我想我可能是全英国惟一一个驯服它们的人——　”

    ①关于客迈拉兽的详细描写。请见。《神奇动物在哪里》一书，人民文学出版社。2001年10月版。

    -300　？“你肯定它们驯服了吗？”马尔福问，声音中的恐惧更明显了，“反正这不会是你第一次把野兽带到课堂上，对吧？”

    斯莱特林的学生小声附和，有几个格兰芬多的学生好像也觉得马尔福说的不无道理。

    “当然驯服了。”海格皱起眉头，把肩上的死牛朝上提了提。

    “那你的脸是怎么回事？”马尔福问。

    “不关你的事！”海格火了，“现在如果你们问完了愚蠢的问题，就跟我走！”

    他转身大步走进森林。大家似乎都不大愿意跟进去。哈利望望罗恩与赫敏，他们叹了口气，点点头。于是三人带头跟在海格后面。

    走了大约十分钟，来到一处林木茂密、暗如黄昏的地方，地上一片雪也没有。海格吭哧一声把那半头牛撂到地上，退后两步，转身面对着全班同学。许多人都用树干做掩护，紧张地东张西望，小心翼翼地向他靠近，似乎在防备随时受到袭击。

    “靠拢，靠拢。”海格鼓励地说，“现在，它们会被肉昧引来，但我还是叫它们一声，因为它们喜欢昕到是我？？”

    他转过身，摇摇脑袋甩开挡在脸上的头发，发出一种古怪的、尖厉的叫声，在幽暗的林子里回响，像是巨鸟的呜叫。没有人笑，大部分人似乎都吓得不敢出声了。

    海格又叫了一声，一分钟过去了，学生们一直在紧张地窥视四周，不知道会出现什么。当海格第三次甩开头发、扩张他那宽大的胸脯时，哈利推推罗恩，指了指两棵粗虬紫杉之间的暗处。

    一对发亮的白眼珠在那边渐渐变大，随后是龙一样的脸、颈子、骨骼毕露的身体，一匹巨大的、带翼的黑马从黑暗中显现出来。它朝学生们看了几秒钟，甩了甩长长的黑尾巴，然后低下头开始用尖牙撕咬死牛。

    哈利感到如释重负。现在终于证明这些神兽不是他的幻想，它们是真的：海格也知道。他急切地望着罗恩，但罗恩还在朝林间张望，过了片刻他小声问：“海格为什么不叫了？”

    大部分同学也带着像罗恩一样困惑而紧张的表情东张西望，但就是看不到站在几英尺外的黑马。只有另外两人好像看到了：高尔身后一个瘦瘦的斯莱特林男生正在看黑马吃肉，脸上露出非常厌恶的表情；纳威的目光在盯着那条不停甩动的长长黑尾。

    “哦，又来了一位！”海格自豪地说，第二匹黑马从林中出现了，收起皮革一样的翅膀，低头贪婪地吃起生肉，“现在？？有谁看见了，举个手。”

    哈利举起手，非常高兴终于有机会了解这些怪马的秘密了。海格朝他点点头。

    “嗯？？，我知道你会的，哈利。”他严肃地说，“还有你，纳威？还有——　”

    “对不起，”马尔福用讥讽的口气说，“我们到底应该看到什么？”

    海格指了指地上的死牛作为回答。全班盯着它看了几秒钟，有几人倒吸了一口冷气，帕瓦蒂尖叫起来。哈利知道为什么：一块块肉自动从骨头上剥离，消失在空气中，看上去一定非常诡异。

    “什么东西？”帕瓦蒂退到离她最近的一棵树后，恐惧地问，“什么东西在吃它？”

    “夜骐，”海格自豪地说，赫敏在哈利旁边领悟地“哦！”了一声，“霍格沃茨这里有一大群呢。现在，有谁知道——　？”

    “可它们非常、非常不吉利！”帕瓦蒂插嘴说，看上去很惊恐，“会给看到它们的人带来各种可怕的灾祸，特里劳妮教授有次跟我说过——　”

    “不不不，”海格笑道，“那只是迷信，没什么不吉利，它们很聪明也很有用。当然，这一群没多少事可于，主要也就拉拉学校的马车，除非邓布利多要出远门但不想用幻影移形——　又来了一对，瞧——　”

    又有两匹马悄然显现了，其中一匹从帕瓦蒂身旁擦过。她浑身发抖，紧紧抱着树干说：“我觉得有东西，它好像在我旁边！”

    “别害怕，它不会伤害你。”海格耐心地说，“现在，谁能告诉我为什么有人看得见，有人看不见？”

    赫敏举起手。

    “你说。”海格对她一笑说。

    “只有见过死亡的人才能看见夜骐。”她说。

    “对了，”海格严肃地说，“格兰芬多加十分。夜骐——　”

    “咳，咳。”

    乌姆里奇教授来了。她站在离哈利几英尺远的地方，仍是绿帽子，绿斗篷，手拿写字板。没昕过乌姆里奇假咳的海格有点担心地望着旁边的一匹夜骐，显然以为是它发出的声音。

    “咳，咳。”

    “哦，你好！”海格微笑道，发现了怪声的来源。

    “你有没有收到我早上送到你小屋的字条？”乌姆里奇还是像她前一次对海格说话时那样，说得又慢又响，似乎对方是个外国人还智力迟钝，“说我要来听你的课。”

    “哦，收到了，”海格爽朗地说，“很高兴你找到了地方！你看——　我不知道——　你能看到吗？我们今天讲夜骐——　”

    “对不起，”乌姆里奇教授把手放在耳朵边握成杯子形状，皱着眉头大声说，“你说什么？”

    海格显得有点疑惑。

    “呃——　夜骐！”他响亮地说，“大马——　呃——　带翅膀的，你知道！”

    他急切地把粗胳膊扑扇了两下。乌姆里奇教授朝他挑起眉毛，在写字板上边写边念，“要靠？？笨拙的？？手势？？”

    “好？？”海格说，转身面向学生，看上去有点慌乱，“呃？？我说到哪儿了？”

    “似乎？？记性？？很差？？”乌姆里奇说，声音响得大家都能听见。德拉科马尔福的样子好像圣诞节提前一个月到了，赫敏则气得涨红了脸。

    “哦，”海格不安地瞟了瞟乌姆里奇的写字板，但还是勇敢地讲了下去。“对，我正要告诉你们这一群是怎么来的。这个，开始只有一匹公马和五匹母马。这个叫乌乌，”他拍拍最先出现的那匹，“是我最喜欢的，这个林子里出生的第一匹——　”

    “你知不知道，”乌姆里奇高声打断他，“魔法部已把夜骐列为‘危险动物’？”

    哈利的心陡地一沉，但海格只是笑笑。

    “夜骐不危险！当然，要真给惹急了，它们可能会咬你——　”

    “对？？残暴？？表现出？？快意？？”乌姆里奇又在笔记本上写道。

    “不——　不是！”海格说，有点着急了，“我是说，狗还会咬人呢，对吧——　夜骐只是因为死人的关系名声不好——　人们过去以为它不吉利，对吧？只是无知，对吧？”

    乌姆里奇没有回答。她记完最后一笔，抬头看着海格，依旧又慢又响地说：“请像往常一样继续讲课，我要在学生中”——　她指着一个个学生——　“走一走。”——　她做出走路的样子，马尔福和潘西帕金森在偷偷地笑。“提点问题。”她又指指自己的嘴巴，表示说话。

    海格瞪着她，显然完全不明白她为什么以为他不懂正常的英语。赫敏眼中含着愤怒的泪花。“母夜叉，邪恶的母夜叉！”她小声说，看着乌姆里奇走向潘西帕金森，“我知道你要干什么，你这丑陋的、变态的、恶毒的——　”　“哦？？总之，”海格试图继续讲下去，“这个——　夜骐，对，它们有很多好东西？？”“你觉得，”乌姆里奇教授清脆地问潘西帕金森，“你能听懂海格教授讲话吗？”像赫敏一样，潘西也含着眼泪，但这些眼泪是笑出来的，她使劲忍着笑，回答得断断续续。“不能？？因为？？听起来？？很多时候？？像呜噜呜噜？？”乌姆里奇在写字板上刷刷地写着。海格脸上几小块没有青紫的皮肤一下红了，但他努力装作没听到潘西的回答。

    -303　？“呃？？这个？？夜骐的好东西。对了，当它们被驯服之后，像这群一样，你就不会迷路了。方向感好得惊人，只要告诉它们你想去哪儿——　”

    “当然啦，得假定他们能听懂你的话。”马尔福大声说，潘西帕金森又咯咯地笑了起来。乌姆里奇教授纵容地朝他们笑笑，然后转向纳威。

    “你能看到夜骐，是吗，隆巴顿？”她问。

    纳威点点头。

    “你看到谁死了？”她语气冷漠地问。

    “我？？我爷爷。”纳威说。

    “你觉得它们怎么样？”她说，粗短的手朝黑飞马挥了挥，它们已经把很大一部分尸体撕得只剩骨头了。

    “嗯，”纳威瞟了一眼海格，紧张地说，“嗯，它们？？嗯？？挺好的？？”

    “学生？？不敢？？承认？？害怕。”乌姆里奇念道，又在写字板上记了几笔。

    “不！”纳威不安地说，“我不害怕它们——　！”

    “没关系。”乌姆里奇拍拍纳威的肩膀，她显然想做出一副谅解的笑容，但在哈利看来却更像狞笑。“好了，海格，”她转身仰视着他，又一次用又慢又响的声音说，“我想我已经掌握了足够的情况？？你会在十天之内”——　她伸出短粗的十指，“收到”——　她做出从空中取东西状，“你的调查结果”——　她指了指写字板。然后，她更加得意地微笑着，在绿帽子下比以前更像一只癞蛤蟆，从学生中匆匆走了出去。马尔福和潘西帕金森笑个不停，赫敏气得浑身发抖，纳威看上去迷惑而懊恼。

    “那个邪恶、虚伪、变态的丑八怪！”半小时后赫敏愤怒地说，他们沿着来时在雪地上踩出的小道走回城堡，“你们看出她想干什么吗？又是她那套歧视半人半兽的把戏——　她想把海格说成是智力低下的巨怪，就因为他妈妈是个巨人——　哦，这不公平，其实课上得不坏——　我是说，如果又是炸尾螺也就罢了，但夜骐挺好的——　老实讲，对海格来说，它们真是很不错了！”

    “乌姆里奇说它们有危险。”罗恩说。

    “咳，就像海格说的，它们能照看好自己。”赫敏不耐烦地说，“我想格拉普兰那样的老师一般不会在N.E.w.Ts考试之前教这个的，但是，它们确实很有趣，是不是？有人看见，有人看不见！我希望我能看见。”

    “是吗？”哈利平静地问。

    她一下子显得很惊恐。

    “哦，哈利——　对不起——　我当然不希望——　那真是句蠢话——　”

    “没关系，”他赶忙说，“别担心。”

    “我奇怪竟有这么多人看得见，”罗恩说，“班上有三个——　”

    “对啊，韦斯莱，我们也在纳闷呢。”一个阴阳怪气的声音说。因为雪太深，他们都没听见马尔福、克拉布和高尔就走在身后。“你认为如果你见过人咽气，你就会把鬼飞球看得更清楚些吗？”

    他和克拉布、高尔放声大笑，从旁边挤了过去，朝城堡走去，又高唱起“韦斯莱是我们的王”。罗恩耳朵通红。

    “别理他们，千万别理他们。”赫敏急忙劝道。她抽出魔杖，又用咒语产生热气，在没人踏过的雪地上融化出一条通向温室的路。

    十二月带来了更多的雪，也给五年级学生带来了雪崩般的家庭作业。随着圣诞节的临近，罗恩、赫敏的级长工作越来越繁重。他们要负责监督装饰城堡（“你去挂彩带，皮皮鬼却抓着另一头要把你勒死。”罗恩说），要看着课间因为天冷雨待在室内的一二年级学生（“他们脸皮真厚，我们一年级时绝对没那么放肆。”罗恩说），还要和阿格斯费尔奇轮班在走廊里巡视，因为费尔奇怀疑节日中打架可能会增多（“那家伙他脑子里有大粪。”罗恩气愤地说）。赫敏忙得没工夫织小精灵帽，很着急，她只剩三顶了。

    “那些我还没有解放的可怜的小精灵，圣诞节只好待在这里，因为帽子不够！”

    哈利不忍心讲多比把她织的帽子全拿走了，便埋下头写魔法史课的论文。反正他不愿去想圣诞节。上学以来，这是他第一次很想在假期离开霍格沃茨。不能打球，又担心海格会不会被留用察看，他现在恨透了这个地方。他惟一盼望的就是D.A.的活动，可是假期中只能暂停，因为几乎所有成员都要和家人一起过节。赫敏要跟父母去滑雪，罗恩觉得非常有趣，他从没听说过麻瓜把木条绑在脚上从山上滑下去。罗恩自己要回陋居。哈利妒忌了好几天，直到他问罗恩打算怎么回家过圣诞节，罗恩说：“你也去呀！我没说过吗？妈妈几星期前就写信叫我邀请你了！”

    赫敏转转眼珠，但哈利的心飞了起来：在陋居过圣诞节真是太棒了，只是哈利有点内疚不能和小天狼星一起过节。他也想能不能说服韦斯莱夫人邀请他的教父，但他不仅怀疑邓布利多不会让小天狼星离开格里莫广场，而且深感韦斯莱夫人可能也不欢迎他去，她跟他总是不和。小天狼星自从上次在火中消失后还没跟哈利联系过，虽然哈利知道，在乌姆里奇的监视下试图联系是不明智的，但他不愿想到小天狼星独自待在他母亲的老房子里，也许他会寂寞地和克利切拉开一个彩包爆竹。

    哈利早早来到有求必应屋，参加节前最后一次D.A.活动。他很高兴自己来得早，因为所有的火把亮起时，他看出多比为了过圣诞节已经把这个地方装饰过了。一看就知道是小精灵干的，因为没有别人会在天花板上吊一百个金色的小球，每个上面都有哈利的大头照，还刻着一行字：圣诞哈利路亚①！哈利刚把最后一个小金球摘下来，门吱呀一声开了，卢娜洛夫古德像往常一样做梦似的走了进来。“你好，”她含糊地说，　打量着剩余的装饰，“很漂亮，　是你搞的吗？”“不，”哈利说，“是家养小精灵多比。”

    “槲寄生，”卢娜做梦似的说，指着几乎罩在哈利头顶上的一大丛白浆果。他赶快从它下面跳了出来。“这就对了，”卢娜严肃地说，“它里面经常会长蝻钩。”

    正在这时，安吉利娜、凯蒂和艾丽娅进来了，哈利也就用不着追问蝻钩是什么了。三个女生都气喘吁吁，看上去冻得够呛。

    “咳，”安吉利娜没精打采地说，扯下斗篷扔到角落里，“我们找到替补了。”

    “替补我？”哈利傻乎乎地问。

    “你、弗雷德和乔治，”她不耐烦地说，“我们有新的找球手了！”

    “谁？”哈利忙问。

    “金妮韦斯莱。”凯蒂说。

    哈利愣愣地望着她。

    “没错，我知道。”安吉利娜说着抽出魔杖，活动着胳膊。“可她很不错，真的。当然不如你，”她狠狠白了他一眼说，“可是既然你不能参加？？”哈利咽回了已到嘴边的反驳：她难道没有想过，他被迫离队，不比她遗憾一百倍吗？“击球手呢？”他问，努力使语气保持平静。“安德鲁柯克，”艾丽娅不热情地说，“杰克-斯劳珀，都不是很灵，但跟别的木头比起来？？”罗恩、赫敏和纳威的到来结束了这场压抑的谈话，五分钟后，屋子里已经满得看不到安吉利娜灼人的责备目光了。“好，”他叫大家安静，“我想今晚我们就复习一下以前练过的东西，因为这是节前最后一次集会，在三个礼拜的假期之前学新的东西没有意义——　”　“不学新东西？”扎卡赖斯史密斯嘟哝道，声音传遍了全屋，“早知道就不来了？？”“那我们都很遗憾哈利没有早点告诉你。”弗雷德大声说。几个人偷偷地笑。哈利看到秋也在笑，心里又是一跳，好像下楼时一脚踩空了似的。“——　我们两两练习，”哈利说，“从障碍咒开始，练十分钟，然后把垫子拿出①”哈利路亚“为犹太教和基督教欢呼用语，意思为”赞美神“。多比在此把哈利的名字用在了”祝圣诞快乐！“的祝福语中。

    来，再练昏迷咒。“

    众人自动分开，哈利照例和纳威一组。屋里很快便充斥了“障碍重重”之声，被点中的人会僵住一分钟左右，对手无所事事地看着他人练习，然后他们活动起来，跟对手交换角色。

    纳威进步得像换了个人。过了一会儿，当哈利连着僵住三次之后，他又让纳威去跟罗恩、赫敏练，自己在屋里转转，走过秋的身旁时，她朝他嫣然一笑。他努力抵制老想往那边走的诱惑。

    练了十分钟障碍咒之后，他们摆开垫子，又练起昏迷咒。地方不够，一半人先在旁边看，然后交换。哈利看着大家，心里充满了自豪。诚然，纳威击昏了帕德玛佩蒂尔，而不是他所瞄准的迪安，但比起以前来准头已经好多了，其他人也都有很大进步。

    一小时后，哈利叫大家停了下来。

    “练得很好了，”他笑望着大家说，“放完假回来后我们可以开始一些难度大的——　甚至可以包括守护神咒。”

    一片兴奋的议论声。人们像往常一样三三两两地走出房间，许多人祝哈利“圣诞快乐”。哈利心情很好，跟罗恩、赫敏一起收起垫子，堆放整齐。罗恩与赫敏先走了，他多待了一会儿，因为秋还在，他希望听到她说“圣诞快乐”。

    “你先走吧。”他听到她对玛丽埃塔说，他的心一下蹦到了嗓子眼儿。

    他假装把垫子摞齐，知道屋里没有别人了，他等着她开口，可是听到的却是一声抽泣。

    他转过身，看到秋站在屋子中间，脸上流着泪。

    “怎么——　？”

    他不知道怎么办，她只是站在那儿，默默哭泣。

    “怎么啦？”他无力地问。

    她摇摇头，用衣袖拭了拭眼泪。

    “对不起，”她含混地说，“我想？？只是因为？？学这些东西？？让我？？我想起？？要是他会这些？？他现在就会还活着？？”

    哈利的心一下子掉过原来的位置，沉到了肚脐眼附近。他该知道的，她想谈塞德里克。

    “他会这些。”哈利沉重地说，“他使得很好，要不也走不到迷宫中央。可如果伏地魔真想杀你，你没有机会。”

    听到伏地魔的名字，她哽噎了一下，但无畏地望着哈利。

    “你当时还是婴儿却活了下来。”她轻声说。

    “哦，是，”哈利疲惫地说，一边朝门口走去，“我不知道为什么，谁也不知道，所以没什么可骄傲的。”

    -307　？别人会怎么说。而且，她可能还搞不清对哈利的感情，因为塞德里克死时哈利在场。所以这一切非常矛盾和痛苦。哦，她还怕被踢出拉文克劳魁地奇球队，因为她近来飞得那么差。“

    她的话把两人说愣了。然后罗恩说：“一个人不能同时有那么多感情，会爆炸的。”“你自己只有一茶匙的感情，并不代表人人都是这样。”赫敏挖苦道，又拿起了她的笔。“是她主动的，”啥利说，“我本来不想——　她靠过来——　然后就趴在我身上哭——　我不知道怎么办——　”　“怨不得你，哥们儿。”罗恩说，似乎被吓着了。“你得对她温柔点儿。”赫敏担心地抬起眼睛说，“你有没有啊？”“嗯，”哈利脸上热得难受，“我好像——　拍了拍她的背。”

    赫敏似乎用了很大努力才忍住没有翻眼睛。

    “我想这还不算最糟糕。”她说，“你打算还见她吗？”

    “　我非见不可，是不是？”哈利说，　“有D.A.集会呀。”

    “你知道我指的是什么。”赫敏不耐烦地说。

    哈利沉默了。赫敏的话展现了一幕幕可怕的前景。他试着想象跟秋一起出去——　或许去霍格莫德村，跟她单独相处几小时。在发生了刚才那件事之后，她当然会期望他约她出去的？？这念头使得他的胃痛苦地紧缩起来。

    “反正，”赫敏漠然地说，又埋在她的信里了，“你会有很多机会约她的？？”

    “要是他不想约她呢？”罗恩一直盯着哈利，脸上现出一种不常见的精明。

    “别犯傻，”赫敏含糊地说，“哈利早就喜欢她了，是不是，哈利？”

    他没有回答。不错，他是早就喜欢秋了，但他想象的两人相处的画面中，秋总是快乐的，而不是趴在他肩上哭得不可收拾。

    “你在给谁写小说呢？”罗恩问赫敏，伸头去读已经垂到地上的羊皮纸。赫敏把它拖了上去。

    “威克多尔。”

    “克鲁姆？”

    “我们还知道几个威克多尔呀？”

    罗恩没说话，但看上去快怏的。他们又沉默地坐了二十分钟，罗恩在不耐烦的哼哼和涂涂擦擦中完成了他的变形课论文；赫敏沉着地写到羊皮纸的最后，仔细地卷起封好；哈利盯着炉火，特别希望小天狼星的脑袋出现，给他一些关于女孩子的忠告。但炉火只是噼噼啪啪越烧越低，直到红热的余炭化成了灰烬。哈利环顾四周，发现屋里又只剩他们三个了。

    “好了，晚安。”赫敏说，打着大哈欠朝女生宿舍的楼梯走去。

    -308　？住了。“那——她想干吗？”他装出随便的口气问。

    “她——”哈利声音有点儿哑，他清了清嗓子，又说，“她——”　“你们接吻了吗？”赫敏干脆地问。罗恩腾地坐了起来，把墨水瓶碰得骨碌碌地滚在地毯上。他全然不管，只顾眼巴巴地盯着哈利。“接了吗？”他问。

    哈利从罗恩好奇而兴奋的面孔望到赫敏微蹙的双眉，点了点头。“哈！”罗恩得意地一挥拳头，嘎嘎大笑，把窗前几个怯怯的二年级学生惊得跳了起来。看到罗恩在地毯上打滚，哈利脸上勉强浮现出一丝笑容。赫敏厌恶地看了罗恩一眼，继续写她的信。“哎，”罗恩最后抬头看着哈利说，“怎么样？”哈利想了一会儿。“湿的。”他诚实地说。罗恩发出一声怪叫，很难说是表示庆祝还是恶心。“因为她在哭。”哈利沉重地说。

    “哦，”罗恩说，脸上的笑容减退了一些，“你接吻水平那么差吗？”

    “不知道，”哈利说，他没有想过这一点，顿时担心起来，“可能是。”“当然不是。”赫敏随口说道，还在忙着写她的信。“你怎么知道？”罗恩尖刻地问。“因为秋最近一半时间都在哭，”赫敏含糊地说，“吃饭时哭，上洗手间也哭，到哪儿都哭。”“你以为一点接吻能让她开心起来。”罗恩咧嘴笑道。“罗恩，”赫敏板着脸说，把羽毛笔伸到墨水瓶里，“你是我不幸遇到的最浑的浑球儿。”“这是什么意思？”罗恩不平地问，“什么人会在别人亲她的时候哭鼻子？”“是啊，”哈利有点绝望地说，“谁会呢？”赫敏带着几乎是怜悯的表情看着他们这一对。“你们不明白秋现在的心情吗？”她问。“不明白。”哈利和罗恩一齐说。赫敏叹了口气，搁下羽毛笔。“显而易见，她心里很悲伤，因为塞德里克的死。同时我想她有些困惑，因为她以前喜欢塞德里克，现在又喜欢哈利，她搞不清到底最喜欢谁。同时她还感到内疚，觉得和哈利接吻是对塞德里克的亵渎。她还担心，要是她跟哈利好的话，-309　？别人会怎么说。而且，她可能还搞不清对哈利的感情，因为塞德里克死时哈利在场。所以这一切非常矛盾和痛苦。哦，她还怕被踢出拉文克劳魁地奇球队，因为她近来飞得那么差。”

    她的话把两人说愣了。然后罗恩说：“一个人不能同时有那么多感情，会爆炸的。”“你自己只有一茶匙的感情，并不代表人人都是这样。”赫敏挖苦道，又拿起了她的笔。“是她主动的，”哈利说，“我本来不想——她靠过来——然后就趴在我身上哭——我不知道怎么办——”“怨不得你，哥们儿。”罗恩说，似乎被吓着了。“你得对她温柔点儿。”赫敏担心地抬起眼睛说，“你有没有啊？”“嗯，”哈利脸上热得难受，“我好像——拍了拍她的背。”

    赫敏似乎用了很大努力才忍住没有翻眼睛。

    “我想这还不算最糟糕。”她说，“你打算还见她吗？”

    “我非见不可，是不是？”哈利说，“有D.A.　集会呀。”

    “你知道我指的是什么。”赫敏不耐烦地说。

    哈利沉默了。赫敏的话展现了一幕幕可怕的前景。他试着想象跟秋一起出去——或许去霍格莫德村，跟她单独相处几小时。在发生了刚才那件事之后，她当然会期望他约她出去的？？这念头使得他的胃痛苦地紧缩起来。

    “反正，”赫敏漠然地说，又埋在她的信里了，“你会有很多机会约她的？？”

    “要是他不想约她呢？”罗恩一直盯着哈利，脸上现出一种不常见的精明。

    “别犯傻，”赫敏含糊地说，“哈利早就喜欢她了，是不是，哈利？”

    他没有回答。不错，他是早就喜欢秋了，但他想象的两人相处的画面中，秋总是快乐的，而不是趴在他肩上哭得不可收拾。

    “你在给谁写小说呢？”罗恩问赫敏，伸头去读已经垂到地上的羊皮纸。赫敏把它拖了上去。

    “威克多尔。”

    “克鲁姆？”

    “我们还知道几个威克多尔呀？”

    罗恩没说话，但看上去怏怏的。他们又沉默地坐了二十分钟，罗恩在不耐烦的哼哼和涂涂擦擦中完成了他的变形课论文；赫敏沉着地写到羊皮纸的最后，仔细地卷起封好；哈利盯着炉火，特别希望小天狼星的脑袋出现，给他一些关于女孩子的忠告。但炉火只是噼噼啪啪越烧越低，直到红热的余炭化成了灰烬。哈利环顾四周，发现屋里又只剩他们三个了。

    “好了，晚安。”赫敏说，打着大哈欠朝女生宿舍的楼梯走去。

    -310　？“她看上克鲁姆什么啦？”罗恩和哈利一起上楼时问道。

    “嗯，”哈利思考着说，“我想他岁数大些，是不是？？又是国际球星？？”

    “可除了这个之外，”罗恩似乎很恼火，“我说，他不就是个暴躁的饭桶吗？”

    “是有点暴躁。”哈利说，他还在想着秋。

    他们默默地脱掉袍子，换上睡衣。迪安、西莫和纳威都已睡着了。哈利把眼镜放在床头桌上，钻进被里，但没有拉上幔帐，而是盯着纳威床边窗户外那一片星空。要是他昨晚这个时候知道，二十四小时之后他会吻秋张？？“晚安。”罗恩在他右边说。

    “晚安。”哈利说。

    也许下次？？如果有下次的话？？她会快乐一些。他应该约她出去的，她当时可能在期待他开口，现在正生着他的气？？或者她正躺在床上，为塞德里克而哭泣？他不知道该怎么想。赫敏的解释似乎使这一切更复杂，而不是更好懂了。

    学校应该教这个，他翻了个身想道，女孩子的心思？？这至少比占卜课有用得多。纳威在睡梦中抽了抽鼻子，远处传来一只猫头鹰的叫声。

    哈利梦见他回到了D.A.集会的房间，秋埋怨他把她骗来了，说他答应只要她来了就给她一百五十张巧克力蛙画片。哈利辩白着？？秋叫了起来：“塞德里克给了我好多好多巧克力蛙画片，看！”她从袍子里掏出一把把的画片撒到空中，然后她又变成了赫敏。赫敏说：“你答应过她的，哈利？？我想你最好给她点别的？？你的火弩箭怎么样？”哈利争辩说他不能把火弩箭给秋，因为被乌姆里奇拿走了，而且这一切是荒唐的，他只是到D.A.房间里来挂一些多比脑袋形状的圣诞彩球？？梦境幻化了？？他的身体柔软、有力而又灵活，在闪亮的金属栅栏间，在阴暗、冰冷的石头上滑过？？他身体贴着地面，用腹部滑行？？光线很暗，但他能看到周围物体的光亮，一些奇异的、鲜明的色彩？？他转动头部？？一眼看去，走廊是空的？？不对？？有个人坐在地上，头垂在胸前，他的轮廓在昏暗中闪烁。

    哈利伸出舌头？？他尝了尝那人的气味？？他活着，但在打瞌睡？？坐在走廊尽头那扇门的前面？？哈利渴望咬那个人？？但他必须克制住这个冲动？？有更重要的事要做？？可那人惊醒了？？跳了起来，一件银斗篷从他腿上滑落下来，哈利看到他明亮、模糊的轮廓屹立在面前，一根魔杖从皮带上抽出？？他别无选择？？他竖起身子，袭击了一下，两下，三下，把他的尖牙深深插进那人的皮肤，感到肋骨在他-311　？的牙齿间碎裂了，热乎乎的鲜血？？那人痛得大叫？？然后没声了？？瘫倒在墙脚？？鲜血溅到地上？？他的前额疼得要命？？好像要炸开了？？“哈利！哈利！”

    他睁开眼睛，浑身浸满冷汗，床单全裹在身上，像紧身衣。他觉得额头像插了把滚烫的火钳。

    “哈利！”

    罗恩站在床前，好像吓坏了，床脚还有几个人影。他抱紧脑袋，痛得眼前发黑？？他滚到床边吐了起来。

    “他真的病了，”一个惊恐的声音说，“要喊人吗？”

    “哈利！哈利！”

    他要告诉罗恩，这至关重要？？哈利大口吸着气，从床上撑起身子，命令自己不要呕吐，他痛得视线模糊。

    “你爸爸，”他气喘吁吁地说，胸口起伏着，“你爸爸？？出事了？？”

    “什么？”罗恩没听懂。

    “你爸爸！他被咬了，很严重，到处都是血？？”

    “我去叫人。”那个惊恐的声音说，哈利听到脚步声跑出了宿舍。

    “哈利，哥们儿，”罗恩将信将疑，“你？？你只是在做梦？？”

    “不是！”哈利狂暴地说，一定要让罗恩明白，“不是梦？？不是一般的梦？？我在那儿，我看到了？？我干的？？”他昕到西莫和迪安在嘀嘀咕咕，但他顾不了这么多了。额头的剧痛稍稍减轻了，但他还在出汗，发高烧一样浑身哆嗦着。他又呕吐起来，罗恩朝后一跳。“哈利，你病了，”他不安地说，“纳威去找人了？？”

    “我没事！”哈利呛了一下，用睡衣擦擦嘴巴，控制不住地哆嗦着，“我没生病，该担心的是你爸爸——　我们要找到他在哪儿——　他流血不止——　我是——　那是条大蛇？？”

    他想下床，但罗恩把他按了回去。迪安和西莫还在旁边嘀嘀咕咕。过了一分钟还是十分钟，哈利不知道，他只是坐在那儿瑟瑟发抖，感到伤疤的剧痛在缓慢消退？？楼梯上传来急促的脚步声，他又听到了纳威的声音。

    “这边，教授？？”麦格教授穿着格子呢的晨衣匆匆走进宿舍，眼镜歪架在瘦削的鼻梁上。“怎么了，波特？哪儿疼？”他从没像现在这样高兴见到她，他现在正需要凤凰社的成员，而不是紧张兮兮给他开些没用的汤药的人。“是罗恩的爸爸，”他说着又坐了起来，“他被蛇咬了，非常严重，我看到的。”

    -312　？“什么，你看到的？”麦格教授的黑眉毛拧了起来。

    “我不知道？？我在睡觉，后来就到了那儿？？”

    “你是说你梦见的？”

    “不是！”哈利烦躁地说。没人听得懂吗？“我先做了一个完全不同的梦，一些傻事？？后来这个插了进来，是真的，不是我的幻想，韦斯莱先生在地上睡觉，被一条大蛇咬了，好多的血，他倒了下去，必须找到他在哪里？？”麦格教授透过歪斜的眼镜看着他，好像看到了什么恐怖的东西。“我没说谎，我也没有发疯！”哈利喊了起来，“跟你说，我亲眼看到的！”

    “我相信你，波特，”麦格教授于脆地说，“穿上你的晨衣——　我们去见校长。”

The Eye Of The Snake

Hermione ploughed her way back to Hagrid's cabin through two feet of snow on Sunday morning. Harry and Ron wanted to go with her, but their mountain of homework had reached an alarming height again, so they remained grudgingly in the common room, Tying to ignore the gleeful shouts drifting up from the grounds outside, where students were enjoying themselves skating on the frozen lake, tobogganing and, worst of all, bewitching snowballs to zoom up to Gryffindor Tower and rap hard on the windows.
‘Oi!’ bellowed Ron, finally losing patience and sticking his head out of the window, ‘I am a prefect and if one more snowball hits this window—OUCH!’
He withdrew his head sharply, his face covered in snow.
‘It's Fred and George,’ he said bitterly, slamming the window behind him. ‘Gits ...’
Hermione returned from Hagrid's just before lunch, shivering slightly, her robes damp to the knees.
‘So?’ said Ron, looking up when she entered. ‘Got all his lessons planned for him?’
‘Well, I tried,’ she said dully, sinking into a chair beside Harry. She pulled out her wand and gave it a complicated little wave so that hot air streamed out of the tip; she then pointed this at her robes, which began to steam as they dried out. ‘He wasn't even there when I arrived, I was knocking for at least half an hour. And then he came stumping out of the Forest—’
Harry groaned. The Forbidden Forest was teeming with the kind of creatures most likely to get Hagrid the sack. ‘What's he keeping in there? Did he say?’ he asked.
‘No,’ said Hermione miserably. ‘He says he wants them to be a surprise. I tried to explain about Umbridge, but he just doesn't get it. He kept saying nobody in their right mind would rather study Knarls than Chimaeras—oh, I don't think he's got a Chimaera,’ she added at the appalled look on Harry and Ron's faces, ‘but that's not for lack of trying, from what he said about how hard it is to get eggs. I don't know how many times I told him he'd be better off following Grubbly-Plank's plan, I honestly don't think he listened to half of what I said. He's in a bit of a funny mood, you know. He still won't say how he got all those injuries.’
Hagrid's reappearance at the staff table at breakfast next day was not greeted by enthusiasm from all students. Some, like Fred, George and Lee, roared with delight and sprinted up the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables to wring Hagrid's enormous hand; others, like Parvati and Lavender, exchanged gloomy looks and shook their heads. Harry knew that many of them preferred Professor Grubbly-Planks lessons, and the worst of it was that a very small, unbiased part of him knew that they had good reason: Grubbly-Plank's idea of an interesting class was not one where there was a risk that somebody might have their head ripped off.
It was with a certain amount of apprehension that Harry, Ron and Hermione headed down to Hagrid's on Tuesday, heavily muffled against the cold. Harry was worried, not only about what Hagrid might have decided to teach them, but also about how the rest of the class, particularly Malfoy and his cronies, would behave if Umbridge was watching them.
However, the High Inquisitor was nowhere to be seen as they struggled through the snow towards Hagrid, who stood waiting for them on the edge of the Forest. He did not present a reassuring sight; the bruises that had been purple on Saturday night were now tinged with green and yellow and some of his cuts still seemed to be bleeding. Harry could not understand this: had Hagrid perhaps been attacked by some creature whose venom prevented the wounds it inflicted from healing? As though to complete the ominous picture, Hagrid was carrying what looked like half a dead cow over his shoulder.
‘We're workin’ in here today!’ Hagrid called happily to the approaching students, jerking his head back at the dark trees behind him. ‘Bit more sheltered! Anyway, they prefer the dark.’
‘What prefers the dark?’ Harry heard Malfoy say sharply to Crabbe and Goyle, a trace of panic in his voice. ‘What did he say prefers the dark—did you hear?’
Harry remembered the only other occasion on which Malfoy had entered the Forest before now; he had not been very brave then, either. He smiled to himself; after the Quidditch match anything that caused Malfoy discomfort was all right with him.
‘Ready?’ said Hagrid cheerfully, looking around at the class. ‘Right, well, I've bin savin’ a trip inter the Forest fer yer fifth year. Thought we'd go an’ see these creatures in their natural habitat. Now, what we're studyin’ today is pretty rare, I reckon I'm probably the on'y person in Britain who's managed ter train ‘em.’
‘And you're sure they're trained, are you?’ said Malfoy, the panic in his voice even more pronounced. ‘Only it wouldn't be the first time you'd brought wild stuff to class, would it?’
The Slytherins murmured agreement and a few Gryffindors looked as though they thought Malfoy had a fair point, too.
‘Course they're trained,’ said Hagrid, scowling and hoisting the dead cow a little higher on his shoulder.
‘So what happened to your face, then?’ demanded Malfoy.
‘Mind yer own business!’ said Hagrid, angrily. ‘Now, if yeh've finished askin’ stupid questions, follow me!’
He turned and strode straight into the Forest. Nobody seemed much disposed to follow. Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, who sighed but nodded, and the three of them set off after Hagrid, leading the rest of the class.
They walked for about ten minutes until they reached a place where the trees stood so closely together that it was as dark as twilight and there was no snow at all on the ground. With a grunt, Hagrid deposited his half a cow on the ground, stepped back and turned to face his class, most of whom were creeping from tree to tree towards him, peering around nervously as though expecting to be set upon at any moment.
‘Gather roun', gather roun',’ Hagrid encouraged. ‘Now, they'll be attracted by the smell ‘o the meat but I'm going ter give em a call anyway, ‘cause they'll like ter know it's me.’
He turned, shook his shaggy head to get the hair out of his face and gave an odd, shrieking cry that echoed through the dark trees like the call of some monstrous bird. Nobody laughed: most of them looked too scared to make a sound.
Hagrid gave the shrieking cry again. A minute passed in which the class continued to peer nervously over their shoulders and around trees for a first glimpse of whatever it was that was coming. And then, as Hagrid shook his hair back for a third lime and expanded his enormous chest, Harry nudged Ron and pointed into the black space between two gnarled yew trees.
A pair of blank, white, shining eyes were growing larger through the gloom and a moment later the dragonish face, neck and then skeletal body of a great, black, winged horse emerged from the darkness. It surveyed the class for a few seconds, swishing its long black tail, then bowed its head and began to tear flesh from the dead cow with its pointed fangs.
A great wave of relief broke over Harry. Here at last was proof that he had not imagined these creatures, that they were real: Hagrid knew about them too. He looked eagerly at Ron, but Ron was still staring around into the trees and after a few seconds he whispered, ‘Why doesn't Hagrid call again?’
Most of the rest of the class were wearing expressions as confused and nervously expectant as Ron's and were still gazing everywhere but at the horse standing feet from them. There were only two other people who seemed to be able to see them: a stringy Slytherin boy standing just behind Goyle was watching the horse eating with an expression of great distaste on his face; and Neville, whose eyes were following the swishing progress of the long black tail.
‘Oh, an’ here comes another one!’ said Hagrid proudly, as a second black horse appeared out of the dark trees, folded its leathery-wings closer to its body and dipped its head to gorge on the meat. ‘Now ... put yer hands up, who can see ‘em?’
Immensely pleased to feel that he was at last going to understand the mystery of these horses, Harry raised his hand. Hagrid nodded at him.
‘Yeah ... yeah, I knew you'd be able ter, Harry,’ he said seriously. ‘An’ you too, Neville, eh? An'—’
‘Excuse me,’ said Malfoy in a sneering voice, ‘but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?’
For an answer, Hagrid pointed at the cow carcass on the ground. The whole class stared at it for a few seconds, then several people gasped and Parvati squealed. Harry understood why: bits of flesh stripping themselves away from the bones and vanishing into thin air had to look very odd indeed.
‘What's doing it?’ Parvati demanded in a terrified voice, retreating behind the nearest tree. ‘What's eating it?’
‘Thestrals,’ said Hagrid proudly and Hermione gave a soft ‘Oh!’ of comprehension at Harry's shoulder. ‘Hogwarts has got a whole herd of ‘em in here. Now, who knows —?’
‘But they're really, really unlucky!’ interrupted Parvati, looking alarmed. ‘They're supposed to bring all sorts of horrible misfortune on people who see them. Professor Trelawney told me once—’
‘No, no, no,’ said Hagrid, chuckling, ‘tha's jus’ superstition, that is, they aren’ unlucky, they're dead clever an’ useful! Course, this lot don’ get a lot o’ work, it's mainly jus’ pullin’ the school carriages unless Dumbledore's takin’ a long journey an’ don’ want ter Apparate—an’ here's another couple, look—’
Two more horses came quietly out of the trees, one of them passing very close to Parvati, who shivered and pressed herself closer to the tree, saying, ‘I think I felt something, I think it's near me!’
‘Don’ worry, it won’ hurt yeh,’ said Hagrid patiently. ‘Righ', now, who can tell me why some o’ yeh can see ‘em an’ some can't?’
Hermione raised her hand.
‘Go on then,’ said Hagrid, beaming at her.
‘The only people who can see Thestrals,’ she said, ‘are people who have seen death.’
‘Tha's exactly right,’ said Hagrid solemnly, ‘ten points ter Gryffindor. Now, Thestrals—’
‘Hem, hem.’
Professor Umbridge had arrived. She was standing a few feet away from Harry, wearing her green hat and cloak again, her clipboard at the ready. Hagrid. who had never heard Umbridge's fake cough before, was gazing in some concern at the closest Thestral, evidently under the impression that it had made the sound.
‘Hem, hem.’
‘Oh, hello!’ Hagrid said, smiling, having located the source of the noise.
‘You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?’ said Umbridge, in the same loud, slow voice she had used with him earlier, as though she were addressing somebody both foreign and very slow. ‘Telling you that I would be inspecting your lesson?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ said Hagrid brightly. ‘Glad yeh found the place all righ'! Well, as you can see— or, I dunno—can you? We're doin’ Thestrals today—’
‘I'm sorry?’ said Professor Umbridge loudly, cupping her hand around her ear and frowning. ‘What did you say?’
Hagrid looked a little confused.
‘Er—Thestrals!’ he said loudly. ‘Big—er—winged horses, yeh know!’
He flapped his gigantic arms hopefully. Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows at him and muttered as she made a note on her clipboard: ‘Has ... to ... resort ... to ... crude ... sign ... language.’
‘Well ... anyway ...’ said Hagrid, turning back to the class and looking slightly flustered, ‘erm ... what was I sayin?’
‘Appears ... to ... have ... poor ... short ... term ... memory,’ muttered Umbridge, loudly enough for everyone to hear her. Draco Malfoy looked as though Christmas had come a month early; Hermione, on the other hand, had turned scarlet with suppressed rage.
‘Oh, yeah,’ said Hagrid, throwing an uneasy glance at Umbridge's clipboard, but ploughing on valiantly. ‘Yeah, I was gonna tell yeh how come we got a herd. Yeah, so, we started off with a male an’ five females. This one,’ he patted the first horse to have appeared, ‘name o’ Tenebrus, he's my special favourite, firs’ one born here in the Forest—’
‘Are you aware,’ Umbridge said loudly, interrupting him, ‘that the Ministry of Magic has classified Thestrals as “dangerous"?’
Harry's heart sank like a stone, but Hagrid merely chuckled.
‘Thestrals aren’ dangerous! All righ', they might take a bite outta yeh if yeh really annoy them —’
‘Shows ... signs ... of... pleasure ... at ... idea ... of... violence,’ muttered Umbridge, scribbling on her clipboard again.
‘No—come on!’ said Hagrid, looking a little anxious now. ‘I mean, a dog'll bite if yeh bait it, won’ it—but Thestrals have jus’ got a bad reputation because o’ the death thing—people used ter think they were bad omens, didn’ they? Jus’ didn’ understand, did they?’
Umbridge did not answer; she finished writing her last note, then looked up at Hagrid and said, again very loudly and slowly, ‘Please continue teaching as usual. I am going to walk,’ she mimed walking (Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were having silent fits of laughter) ‘among the students’ (she pointed around at individual members of the class) ‘and ask them questions.’ She pointed at her mouth to indicate talking.
Hagrid stared at her, clearly at a complete loss to understand why she was acting as though he did not understand normal English. Hermione had tears of fury in her eyes now.
‘You hag, you evil hag!’ she whispered, as Umbridge walked towards Pansy Parkinson. ‘I know what you're doing, you awiul, twisted, vicious—’
‘Erm ... anyway,’ said Hagrid, clearly struggling to regain the flow of his lesson, ‘so —Thestrals. Yeah. Well, there's loads o’ good stuff abou’ them ...’
‘Do you find,’ said Professor Umbridge in a ringing voice to Pansy Parkinson, ‘that you are able to understand Professor Hagrid when he talks?’
Just like Hermione, Pansy had tears in her eyes, but these were tears of laughter; indeed, her answer was almost incoherent because she was trying to suppress her giggles.
‘No ... because ... well ... it sounds ... like grunting a lot of the time ...’
Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. The few unbruised bits of Hagrid's face flushed, but he tried to act as though he had not heard Pansy's answer.
‘Er ... yeah ... good stuff abou’ Thestrals. Well, once they're tamed, like this lot, yeh'll never be lost again. ‘Mazin’ sense o’ direction, jus’ tell ‘em where yeh want ter go—’
‘Assuming they can understand you, of course,’ said Malfoy loudly, and Pansy Parkinson collapsed in a fit of renewed giggles. Professor Umbridge smiled indulgently at them and then turned to Neville.
‘You can see the Thestrals, Longbottom, can you?’ she said.
Neville nodded.
‘Who did you see die?’ she asked, her tone indifferent.
‘My ... my grandad,’ said Neville.
‘And what do you think of them?’ she said, waving her stubby hand at the horses, who by now had stripped a great deal of the carcass down to bone.
‘Erm,’ said Neville nervously, with a glance at Hagrid. ‘Well, they're ... er ... OK ...’
‘Students ... are ... too ... intimidated ... to ... admit ... they ... are ... frightened,’ muttered Umbridge, making another note on her clipboard.
‘No!’ said Neville, looking upset. ‘No, I'm not scared of them!’
‘It's quite all right,’ said Umbridge, patting Neville on the shoulder with what she evidently intended to be an understanding smile, though it looked more like a leer to Harry. ‘Well, Hagrid,’ she turned to look up at him again, speaking once more in that loud, slow voice, ‘I think I've got enough to be getting along with. You will receive’ (she mimed taking something from the air in front of her) ‘the results of your inspection’ (she pointed at the clipboard) ‘in ten days’ time.’ She held up ten stubby little fingers, then, her smile wider and more toadlike than ever before beneath her green hat, she bustled from their midst, leaving Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson in fits of laughter, Hermione actually shaking with fury and Neville looking confused and upset.
‘That foul, lying, twisting old gargoyle!’ stormed Hermione half an hour later, as they made their way back up to the castle through the channels they had made earlier in the snow. ‘You see what she's up to? It's her thing about half-breeds all over again—she's trying to make out Hagrid's some kind of dimwitted troll, just because he had a giantess for a mother—and oh, it's not fair, that really wasn't a bad lesson at all—I mean, all right, if it had been Blast-Ended Skrewts again, but Thestrals are fine—in fact, for Hagrid, they're really good!’
‘Umbridge said they're dangerous,’ said Ron.
‘Well, it's like Hagrid said, they can look after themselves,’ said Hermione impatiently, ‘and I suppose a teacher like Grubbly-Plank wouldn't usually show them to us before NEWT level, but, well, they are very interesting, aren't they? The way some people can see them and some can't! I wish I could.’
‘Do you?’ Harry asked her quietly.
She looked suddenly horrorstruck.
‘Oh, Harry—I'm sorry—no, of course I don't—that was a really stupid thing to say.’
‘It's OK,’ he said quickly, ‘don't worry’
‘I'm surprised so many people could see them,’ said Ron. ‘Three in a class—’
‘Yeah, Weasley, we were just wondering,’ said a malicious voice. Unheard by any of them in the muffling snow, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were walking along right behind them. ‘D'you reckon if you saw someone snuff it you'd be able to see the Quaffle better?’
He, Crabbe and Goyle roared with laughter as they pushed past on their way to the castle, then broke into a chorus of ‘Weasley is our King'. Ron's ears turned scarlet.
‘Ignore them, just ignore them,’ intoned Hermione, pulling out her wand and performing the charm to produce hot air again, so that she could melt them an easier path through the untouched snow between them and the greenhouses.
December arrived, bringing with it more snow and a positive avalanche of homework for the fifth-years. Ron and Hermione's prefect duties also became more and more onerous as Christmas approached. They were called upon to supervise the decoration of the castle ('You try putting up tinsel when Peeves has got the other end and is trying to strangle you with it,’ said Ron), to watch over first- and second-years spending their break-times inside because of the bitter cold ('And they're cheeky little snot-rags, you know, we definitely weren't that rude when we were in first year,’ said Ron) and to patrol the corridors in shifts with Argus Filch, who suspected that the holiday spirit might show itself in an outbreak of wizard duels ('He's got dung for brains, that one,’ said Ron furiously). They were so busy that Hermione had even stopped knitting elf hats and was fretting that she was down to her last three.
‘All those poor elves I haven't set free yet, having to stay here over Christmas because there aren't enough hats!’
Harry, who had not had the heart to tell her that Dobby was taking everything she made, bent lower over his History of Magic essay. In any case, he did not want to think about Christmas. For the first time in his school career, he very much wanted to spend the holidays away from Hogwarts. Between his Quidditch ban and worry about whether or not Hagrid was going to be put on probation, he felt highly resentful towards the place at the moment. The only thing he really looked forward to were the DA meetings, and they would have to stop over the holidays, as nearly everybody in the DA would be spending the time with their families. Hermione was going skiing with her parents, something that greatly amused Ron, who had never heard of Muggles strapping narrow strips of wood on to their feet to slide down mountains. Ron was going home to The Burrow. Harry endured several days of envy before Ron said, in response to Harry asking him how he was going to get home for Christmas: ‘But you're coming too! Didn't I say? Mum wrote and told me to invite you weeks ago!’
Hermione rolled her eyes, but Harry's spirits soared: the thought of Christmas at The Burrow was truly wonderful, though slightly marred by Harry's guilty feeling that he would not be able to spend the holiday with Sirius. He wondered whether he could possibly persuade Mrs. Weasley to invite his godfather for the festivities. Even though he doubted whether Dumbledore would permit Sirius to leave Grimmauld Place anyway, he could not help but think Mrs. Weasley might not want him; they were so often at loggerheads. Sirius had not contacted Harry at all since his last appearance in the fire, and although Harry knew that with Umbridge on constant watch it would be unwise to attempt to contact him, he did not like to think of Sirius alone in his mother's old house, perhaps pulling a lonely cracker with Kreacher.
Harry arrived early in the Room of Requirement for the last DA meeting before the holidays and was very glad he had, because when the torches burst into flame he saw that Dobby had taken it upon himself to decorate the place for Christmas. He could tell the elf had done it, because nobody else would have strung a hundred golden baubles from the ceiling, each showing a picture of Harry's face and bearing the legend: ‘HAVE A VERY HARRY CHRISTMAS!’
Harry had only just managed to get the last of them down before the door creaked open and Luna Lovegood entered, looking as dreamy as usual.
‘Hello,’ she said vaguely, looking around at what remained of the decorations. ‘These are nice, did you put them up?’
‘No,’ said Harry, ‘it was Dobby the house-elf.’
‘Mistletoe,’ said Luna dreamily, pointing at a large clump of white berries placed almost over Harry's head. He jumped out from under it. ‘Good thinking,’ said Luna very seriously. ‘It's often infested with Nargles.’
Harry was saved the necessity of asking what Nargles are by the arrival of Angelina, Katie and Alicia. All three of them were breathless and looked very cold.
‘Well,’ said Angelina dully, pulling off her cloak and throwing it into a corner, ‘we've finally replaced you.’
‘Replaced me?’ said Harry blankly.
‘You and Fred and George,’ she said impatiently. ‘We've got another Seeker!’
‘Who?’ said Harry quickly.
‘Ginny Weasley,’ said Katie.
Harry gaped at her.
‘Yeah, I know,’ said Angelina, pulling out her wand and flexing her arm, ‘but she's pretty good, actually. Nothing on you, of course,’ she said, throwing him a very dirty look, ‘but as we can't have you ...’
Harry bit back the retort he was longing to utter: did she imagine for a second that he did not regret his expulsion from the team a hundred times more than she did?
‘And what about the Beaters? he asked, trying to keep his voice even.
‘Andrew Kirke,’ said Alicia without enthusiasm, ‘and Jack Sloper. Neither of them are brilliant, but compared to the rest of the idiots who turned up ...’
The arrival of Ron, Hermione and Neville brought this depressing discussion to an end, and within five minutes the room was full enough to prevent Harry seeing Angelina's burning, reproachful looks.
‘OK,’ he said, calling them all to order. ‘I thought this evening we should just go over the things we've done so far, because it's the last meeting before the holidays and there's no point starting anything new right before a three-week break—’
‘We're not doing anything new?’ said Zacharias Smith, in a disgruntled whisper loud enough to carry through the room. ‘If I'd known that, I wouldn't have come.’
‘We're all really sorry Harry didn't tell you, then,’ said Fred loudly.

海格的故事

    哈利冲到男生宿舍去拿隐形衣和活点地图，他的动作那么快，以至于他和罗恩等了起码五分钟，赫敏才急急忙忙从女生宿舍下来，戴着围巾、手套和她自己织的一顶织花小精灵帽。

    “外面很冷！”看到罗恩不耐烦地咂嘴，她辩解说。

    他们爬出肖像洞口，匆匆钻进隐形衣——　罗恩长了不少，他必须弯着腰才能把脚藏在里面。然后三人小心翼翼地走下许多级楼梯，时而停下来在地图上查看一下费尔奇和洛丽丝夫人的踪影。他们很幸运，路上只碰到了差点没头的尼克，他飘飘荡荡，无心地哼着歌曲，听上去与“韦斯莱是我们的王”惊人地相似。他们蹑手蹑脚地穿过门厅，来到静悄悄的雪地上。看到前面那一小方金色的灯光和海格烟囱上袅袅的青烟，哈利的心剧烈地跳了起来。他加快了步伐，另两人跌跌撞撞地跟在后面。他们激动地踏着积雪走到木门前，哈利举手敲了三声，一条狗在里面狂吠起来。

    -286　？“海格，是我们！”哈利对着钥匙孔叫道。

    “应该想到的！”一个粗哑的声音说。

    他们在隐形衣下相视而笑，听得出海格的声音很高兴。“刚回来三秒钟？？让开，牙牙？？让开，你这条瞌睡虫？？”

    拔门闩的声音，门吱吱嘎嘎地开了，门缝中露出海格的脑袋。

    赫敏尖叫起来。

    “天哪，小声点！”海格急忙说，他越过他们的头顶使劲张望，“在隐形衣里呢，是不是？进来，进来！”

    “对不起！”赫敏低声说，三人从海格身边挤进屋里，扯下隐形衣，让他能看到他们，“我只是——　哦，海格！”

    “没事儿，没事儿！”海格忙说，他关上门，又赶紧拉上所有的窗帘，但赫敏依然惊恐地望着他。

    海格的头发乱糟糟的，上面结着血块，他的左眼肿成了一条缝，又青又紫，脸上和手上伤痕累累，有的还在流血，他动作很小心，哈利怀疑可能肋骨断了。他显然刚刚到家，一件厚厚的黑色旅行斗篷搭在椅背上，一个装得下几个小孩的大背包靠在墙边。有正常人两倍高、三倍宽的海格一瘸一拐地走向火炉，在火上搁了一个铜水壶。

    “你遇到什么了？”哈利问，牙牙围着他们又蹦又跳，舔他们的脸蛋。

    “我说了，没事儿。”海格固执地说，“喝杯茶吗？”

    “算了吧，”罗恩说，“看你那副样子！”

    “跟你们说我很好。”海格说着直起腰，转身对他们笑，但疼得皱了皱眉，“啊，看到你们真高兴——　暑假过得不错，是不是？”

    “海格，你遭到袭击了吗？”罗恩问。

    “我说最后一遍：没事儿！”海格一口咬定。

    “如果我们哪一个的脸变成了一团肉酱，你会说没事吗？”　“你应该去让庞弗雷夫人看看，海格，”赫敏焦急地说，“有些伤口看上去很危险。”“我会处理的，行了吧？”海格威严地说。他走到小屋中间那张巨大的木桌前，揭去桌上的一块茶巾，下面是一条带血的生肉，绿莹莹的，比普通的汽车轮胎稍大一点。

    “你不会吃那个吧，海格？”罗恩凑过去看了看，“　好像有毒啊。”

    “它就是这个样子，是龙肉，”海格说，“我没准备吃它。”

    他拎起龙肉，敷在自己的左脸上，绿色的血滴到他的胡子上，他满意地哼哼了一声。“好些了，它有镇痛作用。”

    -287　？“你能告诉我们你遇到了什么吗？”哈利问。“不行，哈利，这是绝对机密，不能告诉你们，拿我的工作都抵不了这责任。”“是巨人打你的吗，海格？”赫敏轻声问。海格的手一松，龙肉咕叽滑到他的胸口。“巨人？”海格在龙肉滑到皮带之前把它抓住，重新敷到脸上，“谁说巨人了？你们跟谁聊过？谁告诉你们——　谁说我——　啊？”“我们猜的。”赫敏抱歉地说。“哦，你们猜的，是吗？”海格用没被龙肉遮住的那只眼睛严厉地审视着她。“挺？？明显的嘛。”罗恩说，哈利点点头。海格瞪着他们，然后哼了一声，把龙肉扔回到桌上，走到呜呜响的水壶跟前。“没见过像你们这么大的小孩知道这么多不该知道的事儿，”他嘟哝着，把滚开的水泼泼洒洒地倒进三个水桶形状的杯子里，“我不是夸你们。有人管这叫——　包打听。多管闲事。”但他的胡子在抖动。“你去找巨人了？”哈利在桌边坐下笑着问。

    海格把茶杯放在每个人面前，坐下来，又拎起龙肉敷在脸上。“嗯，去了。”他嘟哝道。“找到他们了？”赫敏屏着气问。

    “老实说，他们并不那么难找，”海格说，“个头大嘛。”　“他们在哪儿？”罗恩问。“山里。”海格含糊地回答。“那为什么麻瓜没有——　”　“不是没有，”海格低沉地说，“只是他们的死因总被说成是登山事故，对不对？”他把龙肉移了移，盖住最严重的伤痕。“海格，跟我们说说你于了什么！”罗恩说，“说说被巨人袭击的事，哈利可以说说被摄魂怪袭击的事——　”　海格呛了一下，龙肉也掉了，他连连咳嗽，大量的唾液、茶水和龙血溅到桌上，龙肉啪嗒一声滑到地上。“你说什么，被摄魂怪袭击？”海格大声说。“你不知道吗？”赫敏瞪大眼睛问。

    “我走后发生的事我都不知道。我有秘密使命，不希望猫头鹰到处跟着我——　讨厌的摄魂怪！不是真的吧？”“是真的，它们在小惠金区出现了，袭击了我和我表哥，然后魔法部想把我开除掉——　”

    -288　？“什么？”

    “——　我只好去受审，好多的事情，可是先跟我们说说巨人的事吧。”

    “你要被开除？”

    “先说说你的暑假，然后我再说我的。”

    海格用他能睁开的那只眼睛蹬着哈利。哈利与他对视着，脸上是直率而坚决的表情。

    “唉，好吧。”海格无可奈何地说。

    他弯下腰把龙肉从牙牙的嘴里拽了出来。

    “不要，海格，这不卫生——　”赫敏说，但海格已经又把龙肉敷到眼睛上了。他又喝了一口茶提神，然后说道：“我们学期一结束就出发了——　”

    “马克西姆夫人跟你一起吗？”赫敏插嘴问。

    “对，”海格说，他脸上没被胡子和龙肉遮住的一点地方显出了温柔的表情，“是我们两个。我告诉你们，奥里姆①她不怕吃苦。你们知道，她是一位优雅的、穿得很考究的女士。我知道我们要去哪里，怕她受不了爬石头、睡岩洞什么的，可她一次都没抱怨过。”

    “你知道你们要去哪里？”哈利问，“你知道巨人在哪儿？”

    “邓布利多知道，他告诉了我们。”

    “巨人是不是藏起来了？”罗恩问，“他们在哪儿是个秘密吗？”

    “不完全是，”海格摇着乱蓬蓬的脑袋说，“只是许多巫师都不操心他们在哪儿，只要他们离得很远就行。但巨人住的地方很难进去，至少对人类是这样。所以我们需要邓布利多的指引。我们花了一个月才找到地方——　”

    “一个月？”罗恩说，好像他从未听过这样长的旅行，“可是——　你们为什么不拿门钥匙呢？”

    海格看着罗恩，那只露在外面的眼睛里有一种近乎怜悯的奇怪表情。

    “我们被监视着，罗恩。”他粗哑地说。

    “什么意思？”

    “你不明白，魔法部监视着邓布利多和他们认为是跟他一道的人——　”　“我们知道，”哈利忙说，急于听海格的故事，“我们知道魔法部在监视邓布利多——　”　“所以你们不能用魔法？”罗恩震惊地问，“你们一路只能像麻瓜一样？”“也不是一路，”海格狡黠地说，“我们只是必须多加小心，因为我和奥里姆，块头大了点——　”　罗恩发出强忍着的噗嗤一声，赶紧喝了一大口茶。

    ①马克西姆夫人的名字。

    -289　？“——　所以很容易被跟踪。我们装作一起去度假，所以我们去了法国，假装要去奥里姆的学校，因为知道有魔法部的人盯梢。我们只能慢慢走，因为我不能用魔法，知道魔法部在找借口拘留我们。但在地一龙附近我们终于甩掉了那个尾巴——　”

    “哦，第戎①吧？”赫敏兴奋地说，“我去那儿度过假，你有没有看见——　”

    看到罗恩的脸色，她不做声了。

    “然后我们找机会用了一点魔法，旅行还不赖。在波兰边境遇到两个疯巨怪，我在明斯克的酒吧里跟一个吸血鬼闹了点小别扭，但刨去这些，就再顺利不过了。

    “我们找到了那个地方，开始往山里走，寻找他们的踪影？？”一到那边，我们又不得不收起魔法。一是因为巨人不喜欢巫师，我们不想太早惹火他们；另外邓布利多警告我们说，神秘人肯定也在寻找巨人，可能已经派出了使者。他嘱咐我们在那一带要非常小心，不要暴露自己，防止附近有食死徒。“

    海格停下来喝了一大口茶。

    “说呀！”哈利性急地催促道。

    “找到了。”海格直率地说，“一天晚上翻过山脊，他们就在下面，小小的篝火，巨大的影子？？就像山在移动。”

    “有多大？”罗恩屏着气问。

    “大概二十英尺吧，”海格漫不经心地说，“大的可能有二十五英尺。”

    “有多少人？”哈利问。

    “我想有七八十个吧。”

    “全在那儿了吗？”赫敏问。

    “嗯，”海格悲哀地说，“只剩那么多了，以前有好多，全世界起码有一百个部落，但是渐渐消亡了。当然，巫师杀了一些，但大部分是自相残杀的。现在他们死得更快了，他们不适合那样挤在一起生活。邓布利多说是我们的错，是巫师把他们赶到了老远的地方，他们没有办法，为了生存只能待在一块。”

    “那么，”哈利说，“你们看到了巨人，后来呢？”

    “我们一直等到早上，不想在夜里悄悄走过去，为了安全起见，”海格说，“凌晨三点左右他们在原地睡着了。我们不敢睡，一是怕哪个巨人醒了爬上来，另一个是呼噜响得吓人。快天亮时引起了一场雪崩。

    “天亮之后我们就下去了。”

    “就那样？”罗恩敬畏地问，“你们直接走进了巨人的营地？”

    ①法国中东部城市。勃艮第大区首府和科多尔省省会。

    “邓布利多告诉了我们该怎么做，”海格说，“给古戈礼物，表示敬意。”

    “给谁礼物？”哈利问。

    “哦，古戈——　就是首领。”

    “你怎么知道哪个是古戈？”罗恩问。

    海格乐了。

    “错不了，他最大，最丑，最懒，坐在那儿等别人拿东西给他吃，死羊什么的。他叫卡库斯。我估计他有二十二三英尺高，有两头公象那么重。皮肤像犀牛。”

    “你们就直接走了上去？”赫敏提心吊胆地问。

    “嗯？？走了下去，他躺在山谷里。他们待在四座高山之间的洼地上，靠近一个高山湖泊。卡库斯躺在湖边，咆哮着让人喂他和他的老婆。我跟奥里姆走下山坡——　”

    “可是他们没有想杀你们吗？”罗恩难以置信地问。

    “肯定有人这么想，”海格耸耸肩膀，“但我们按邓布利多说的那样，把礼物举得高高的，眼睛盯着古戈，没有理会其他人。就这样，其他人安静下来，看着我们走了过去，我们一直走到卡库斯的脚边，鞠了个躬，把礼物放在他面前。”

    “送给巨人什么礼物？”罗恩感兴趣地问，“吃的吗？”

    “不是，他自己能搞到吃的。”海格说，“我们送他魔法。巨人喜欢魔法，只是不喜欢我们用魔法对付他们。总之，第一天我们给了他一支古卜莱仙火。”

    赫敏轻轻地哇了一声，但哈利和罗恩都皱起了眉头。

    “一支——　？”

    “永恒的火，”赫敏不耐烦地说，“你们该知道的，弗立维教授在课上提了至少两次！”

    “总之，”海格忙说，不等罗恩回嘴，“邓布利多用魔法使这支火把能永远燃烧，这不是一般巫师能做到的。我把它放在卡库斯脚边的雪地上，说：”阿不思邓布利多给巨人古戈的礼物，以表敬意。“‘”卡库斯说什么？“哈利急切地问。

    “什么也没说，”海格说，“他不会说我们的话。”

    “你开玩笑吧！”

    “这没关系，”海格平静地说，“邓布利多提醒过可能发生这种情况。还好，卡库斯叫来两个懂我们话的巨人，给我们做翻译。”

    “他喜欢这礼物吗？”罗恩问。

    “哦，他们一明白它是什么，营地就是一片骚动。”海格把龙肉翻过来，把凉的一面贴在他的肿眼上，“他们非常高兴。这时我说：”阿不思邓布利多捎话，使者明天再带礼物来时，请古戈与他交谈。“‘”你为什么不当天跟他们谈？“赫敏问。

    -291　？“邓布利多要我们慢慢来，让巨人看到我们守信用。明天再带礼物来，如果真的带了，会给他们一个好印象。而且让他们有时问检验一下第一个礼物，发现它是好东西，想要更多。总之，卡库斯这样的巨人——　一下子说很多，他们会杀死你。简单了事。所以我们鞠躬退了回去，找了个舒服的小岩洞过夜，第二天早上再去时，看到卡库斯正在眼巴巴地等我们。”

    “你们跟他谈了？”

    “是啊，我们先送给他一顶漂亮的头盔——　妖精做的，坚不可摧，然后就坐下来谈话。”

    “他说什么？”

    “没怎么说，主要是听。但苗头不错，他听说过邓布利多，知道他反对杀死英国最后一批巨人。卡库斯好像对邓布利多的话很感兴趣。还有几个人也围过来听，尤其是懂一点英语的。我们走的时候充满希望，答应第二天再带一个礼物来。

    “可是那天晚上坏事了。”

    “什么意思？”罗恩忙问。

    “我说过，巨人们不适合住在一起，”海格悲哀地说，“不适合那么大的一群。他们不能控制自己，每几个星期就要互相打个半死。男的跟男的打，女的跟女的打。那些老部落的残余打来打去，还不算为了食物、火和睡觉地方的争斗。看到他们整个种族都快灭绝了，你以为他们会停止自相残杀，但？？”

    海格深深地叹了口气。

    “那天晚上发生了一场恶斗，我们在洞口看到的，在下面山谷里。打了几小时，声音大得你都不敢相信。太阳出来时，雪都是红的，他的头沉在了湖底。”

    “谁的头？”赫敏惊问。

    “卡库斯的。”海格沉重地说，“换了个新古戈，叫高高马。”他长叹一声。“没想到，我们和古戈交朋友才两天就换了人。我们感到高高马可能不好说话，但也只能试一试。”

    “你们去找他说话？”罗恩不敢相信地问，“看到他砍掉其他巨人的脑袋之后？”

    “我们当然去了。”海格说，“这么大老远过去的，怎么能两天就放弃呢？我们带着本打算送给卡库斯的礼物走了下去。”

    “我还没开口就知道不行了。他坐在那儿，戴着卡库斯的头盔，斜眼看着我们走近。他非常魁梧，是那里头最高大的之一，黑头发，大黑牙，戴着骨头项链，有的看着像人骨。我努力了一下——　举起一大卷龙皮说：”给巨人古戈的礼物——　‘话还没说完，就头朝下被吊了起来。他的两个手下抓住了我。“

    赫敏用手捂住嘴巴。

    “你怎么脱身的？”哈利问。

    “要不是奥里姆在，我就出不来了。”海格说，“她抽出魔杖，施了几个我这辈子见过的最快的魔法，真了不起。眼疾咒正中那两个家伙的眼睛，他们马上把我丢下了——　但这下麻烦了，因为我们对巨人用了魔法，那正是巨人仇恨巫师的原因。我们只好逃走，知道不能再走进营地了。”

    “哎呀，海格。”罗恩轻声说。

    “你在那儿只待了三天，怎么这么晚才回来？”　赫敏问。

    “我们没有只待三天就走！”海格好像受了侮辱，“邓布利多指望着我们呢！”

    “可是你说你们不能再回去了！”

    “白天是不能，我们只是需要重新考虑一下。趴在岩洞里观察了几天。情况不妙。”

    “他又砍人脑袋了？”赫敏有点作呕。

    “不是，”海格说，“那还好些。”

    “什么意思？”

    “我是说，我们很快发现他并不排斥所有的巫师——　只排斥我们。”

    “食死徒？”哈利马上问。

    “对，”海格阴沉地说，“每天都有两个带着礼物来见他，他没有把他们吊起来。”

    “你怎么知道是食死徒？”罗恩问。

    “因为我认出了一个，”海格粗声说，“麦克尼尔，记得吗？他们派来杀巴克比克的那家伙。他是个疯子，像高高马一样喜欢杀人，难怪他们那么投机。”

    “麦克尼尔说服巨人跟神秘人联合了？”　赫敏绝望地说。

    “别着急呀，我还没讲完呢！”海格叫道，他一开始什么也不肯说，现在倒好像说上瘾了，“我和奥里姆商量了一下，虽然古戈好像偏向神秘人，但并不意味着巨人们都是这样，我们要想法说服其他巨人——　那些不愿意高高马当古戈的人。”

    “你怎么看得出哪些是呢？”罗恩问。

    “他们是被打惨了的，对不对？”海格耐心地解释，“有点头脑的都会躲着高高马，像我们一样藏在周围的岩洞里。所以我们决定晚上到各个岩洞走走，看能不能说服几个人。”

    “你们到漆黑的岩洞里去找巨人？”罗恩惊叫道。

    “巨人倒不是我们最担心的，”海格说，“我们更怕食死徒。邓布利多嘱咐过尽量不要跟他们纠缠。问题是那帮人知道我们在那儿——　大概是高高马说的。夜里我们想趁巨人睡觉时溜进岩洞，麦克尼尔那帮人却在山里找我们。我很难拦住奥里姆，”海格的嘴角牵起他的大胡子。“她一心想教训他们？？她被激怒时真不得了，奥里姆？？像团烈火？？大概是因为她的法国血统吧？？”

    -293　？海格眼眶湿润地看着炉火，哈利给了他三十秒回忆时间，然后大声清了清嗓子。“怎么样？你们接近其他巨人了吗？”“什么？哦？？哦，接近了。在卡库斯被杀后的第三个夜里，我们钻出岩洞，悄悄摸下山去，睁大眼睛提防着食死徒。我们进了几个岩洞，没有——　然后，大约是第六个洞时，发现里面藏着三个巨人。”“一定够挤的。”罗恩说。“连悬挂猫狸子的地方都没有。”海格说。“他们没有打你们吗？”赫敏问。

    “如果他们身体好一点的话，可能会的。但他们三个都伤得很重。高高马那一伙把他们打昏了，他们苏醒后，爬进了最近的藏身之处。总之，其中一个懂一点英语，给那两个当翻译，我们的话好像效果不太坏。所以我们就经常过去，探视被打伤的巨人？？我想我们一度说服了六七个。”

    “六七个？”罗恩兴奋地说，“那不错呀——　他们会过来和我们一起打神秘人吗？”但赫敏说：“‘一度’是什么意思，海格？”海格悲哀地看着她。

    “高高马的人袭击了岩洞，活下来的再也不想跟我们打交道了。”“那？？那没有巨人来了？”罗恩失望地问。“是啊，”海格深深地叹了口气，又翻动龙肉，把凉的一面贴在脸上，“但我们做了该做的事，传达了邓布利多的口信，有人听到了，我想会有人记得。假使那些不愿服从高高马的住到山夕}，他们也许会想起邓布利多是友好的？？说不定会过来？？”

    雪正在积满窗棂。哈利感到膝上都湿透了，牙牙把脑袋搁在哈利的腿上，流着口水。“海格？”过了一会儿赫敏轻声问道。“嗯？”

    “你有没有？？你在那儿的时侯？？有没有听到你？？你？？妈妈的消息？”海格露在外面的眼睛看着她，赫敏似乎很害怕。“对不起？？我？？我忘了——　”

    “死了，”海格嘟哝道，“好些年前就死了。他们告诉我的。”

    “哦？？我？？真对不起。”赫敏声音小小地说。海格耸了耸宽大的肩膀。“没必要，”他马上又说，“不大记得她。不是个好母亲。”　又沉默了，赫敏不安地瞟着哈利和罗恩，显然希望他们讲话。

    -294　？“可你还没解释你怎么会变成这样的，海格。”罗恩指了指海格那血污的面孔。

    “还有你为什么回来得这么晚。”哈利说，“小天狼星说马克西姆夫人早回去了——　”

    “谁袭击了你？”罗恩问。

    “我没受到袭击！”海格强调道，“我——　”

    但他的话被一阵骤然的敲门声淹没了。赫敏倒吸了一口凉气，手里的杯子掉到地上摔碎了。牙牙叫了起来。四人瞪着门旁的窗户，一个矮胖的身影在薄窗帘上晃动。

    “是她！”罗恩低声说。

    “钻进来！”哈利急忙抓起隐形衣披在自己和赫敏的身上，罗恩也奔过去钻进了隐形衣。三人挨挨挤挤地退到一个角落里。牙牙对着门口狂吠。海格似乎完全不知所措了。

    “海格，把我们的杯子藏起来！”

    海格抓起哈利和罗恩的茶杯，塞到牙牙的篮筐垫子底下。牙牙在跳着抓门。海格用脚把它推开到一边，拉开了门。

    乌姆里奇教授站在门口，穿着她的绿花呢斗篷，戴着一顶一样颜色的带耳扇的帽子。她噘着嘴，身体后仰，好看到海格的脸，她还不到他的肚脐眼呢。

    “这么说，”她说得又慢又响，好像对聋子讲话似的，“你就是海格，是吗？”

    没等海格回答，她就走进屋去，癜蛤蟆眼骨碌碌乱转。

    “走开。”她挥着皮包对牙牙喝道，因为它跳到她跟前，想舔她的脸。

    “呃——　我不想没礼貌，”海格瞪着她说，“可你到底是谁？”

    “我的名字叫多洛雷斯乌姆里奇。”

    她扫视着小屋，两次直瞪着哈利站的角落，他像三明治一样夹在罗恩和赫敏中间。

    “多洛雷斯乌姆里奇？”海格好像彻底搞糊涂了，“我以为你是魔法部的——　你不是跟福吉一道的吗？”

    “对，我是对部长负责的高级副部长。”乌姆里奇说。她开始在屋里踱步，注意着每个细节，从墙边的背包到搭在那儿的黑色旅行斗篷。“我现在是黑魔法防御术课的教师——　”

    “你很勇敢，”海格说，“现在没多少人肯教这个了——　”

    “——　兼霍格沃茨高级调查官。”乌姆里奇好像没听见他的话一样。

    “那是什么？”海格皱眉问。

    “正是我要问的问题。”乌姆里奇指着地上的碎瓷片，那是赫敏摔碎的茶杯。

    “哦，”海格要命地朝哈利、罗恩和赫敏站的地方瞥了一眼，“哦，那是？？是-295　？牙牙，它打碎了茶杯，所以我只好用这一只。”

    海格指指他的茶杯，一只手还按着敷在眼上的龙肉。乌姆里奇站在他面前，注意着他脸上的每个细节。

    “我刚才听到了说话声。”她低声说。

    “我在跟牙牙说话。”海格勇敢地回答。

    “它也跟你说话吗？”

    “啊？？以某种方式，”海格说，显得不大自在，“我有时说牙牙很像人——　”

    “雪地上有三对脚印，从城堡门口通到你的小屋。”乌姆里奇圆滑地说。

    赫敏倒吸了一口气，哈利赶紧捂住她的嘴巴，幸好，牙牙大声地嗅着乌姆里奇教授的袍摆，她似乎没听见。

    “哦，我刚回来。”海格说，一只大手朝背包挥了挥，“也许有人来过，我没见着。”

    “你的小屋门口没有离开的脚印。”

    “这？？我不知道？？”海格紧张地揪着胡须，又求助似的朝哈利三人站的角落瞟去，“呃？？”

    乌姆里奇转身从屋子这头走向那头，仔细巡视。她弯腰看看床下；她打开海格的碗柜；她从哈利他们跟前不到两英寸处走过，三人贴墙而立，哈利使劲收着肚子。在仔细检查过海格煮饭用的大锅之后，她转身问道：“你怎么了？这些伤是怎么回事？”

    海格赶紧把龙肉从脸上拿下来，哈利认为这是个错误，他眼睛周围的瘀肿都露出来了，更别提脸上那么多的鲜血和血块。“哦，我？？出了点事故。”他无力地说。

    “什么样的事故？”

    “我一我摔了一跤。”

    “摔了一跤。”她冷冷地重复道。

    “是的。被？？被朋友的扫帚绊的。我自己不会飞。看我这块头，我想没有一把扫帚载得了我。我朋友养神符马，不知你见过没有，大牲口，带翅膀的，我骑过一回——　”

    “你去哪儿了？”乌姆里奇冷冷地打断海格的胡扯。

    “我去哪儿？？？”

    “对，开学两个多月了，你的课由别的老师代着，同事都不知道你的去向，你没留下地址，你到底去哪儿了？”

    一阵沉默，海格用他新露出的眼睛瞪着她，哈利几乎能听到他的大脑在疯狂转动。

    “我一我去疗养了。”他说。

    -296　？“疗养。”乌姆里奇教授说。他打量着海格那血污青肿的脸，静默中，龙血缓缓地滴到他的皮马甲上。“看得出来。”“是啊，”海格说，“享受点——　新鲜空气，你知道——　”

    “是啊，狩猎场看守一定很难呼吸到新鲜空气。”乌姆里奇亲切地说。海格脸上没有青紫色的那一小块皮肤变红了。“嗯——　换换风景，你知道——　”　“高山风景？”乌姆里奇马上说。她知道了，哈利绝望地想。

    “高山？”海格重复道，显然在使劲动脑子，“不，是法国南部，阳光和？和大海。”“是吗？”乌姆里奇说，“你没怎么晒黑啊。”“啊？？是？？皮肤敏感。”海格想做出一个讨好的笑容，哈利注意蓟他掉了两颗牙齿。乌姆里奇冷冷地看着他，他的笑容挂不住了。然后她把皮包往臂弯里拉了拉说：“我自然会向部长报告你这么晚回来。”“是。”海格点头说。“你还应知道，作为高级调查宫，我有一个不幸但必要的任务，就是调查其他教师的教学。所以我敢说我们很快又会见面的。”

    她猛然转身朝门口走去。“你要调查我们？”海格望着她的后背茫然地问。“对，”乌姆里奇手放在门把上，回头看着他，轻声说，“部长决心清除不合格的教师，海格。晚安。”她出去了，啪地把门带上。哈利想掀开隐形衣，但赫敏抓住了他的手腕。

    “等等，”她耳语道，“她可能还没走。”海格似乎也这么想，他大步走到窗前，把窗帘拉开一条缝。“她回城堡去了。”他低声说，“邪门？？她还要调查别人？”

    “是啊，”哈利扯掉隐形衣说，“特里劳妮已经留用察看了？？”“嗯？？海格，你打算在课上让我们干什么？”赫敏问。“哦，别担心，我准备了一堆的内容，”海格兴致勃勃地说，又从桌上拿起龙肉敷在眼睛上，“我为你们的o.W.Ls年专门留了一些生物。等着吧，它们非常特别。”“嗯？？特别在哪里？”赫敏试探性地问。“不能说，”海格快活地答道，“我想给你们一个惊喜。”　“哎呀，海格，”赫敏一着急，顾不得掩饰了，“乌姆里奇教授会挑毛病的，要是你课上用太危险的——　”　“危险？”海格似乎觉得好笑，“别说傻话了，我不会给你们危险东西的！我是-297　？说，它们能照看好自己——　”

    “海格，你必须通过乌姆里奇的检查，所以，如果让她看到你教我们怎样寻找庞洛克，怎样区分刺佬儿和刺猬等等，真的会好得多！”赫敏急切地说。

    “可那不大有趣，赫敏，”海格说，“我准备的东西可神奇得多，我养了好些年了，我想全英国只有我这一批驯养的——　”

    “海格？？求求你？？”赫敏的声音真有点绝望了，“乌姆里奇在找借口除掉她认为跟邓布利多关系太密切的教师，求求你，教点平常的、0.w.Ls考试中肯定会有的东西？？”

    但海格只是打了个大大的哈欠，独眼朝屋角的大床投去向往的一瞥。

    “好了，今天够累的，天也晚了。”他轻轻拍了拍赫敏的肩膀，她膝盖一软，扑通跪到地上。“哦——　对不起——　”他揪着袍领把她拉了起来，“不要为我担心，我保证我给你们的保护神奇生物课准备了很好的东西？？现在你们最好回城堡去，别忘了擦掉脚印！”

    “我不知道他有没有听懂你的话。”罗恩后来在路上说。看看四下安全，他们踏着渐渐加厚的积雪走回城堡，一路没有留下痕迹，因为赫敏用了擦除咒。

“那我明天再来，”赫敏坚决地说，“必要的话我会帮他备课，解雇特里劳妮我不在乎，但她不能赶走海格！”

Hagrid's Tale

Harry sprinted up to the boys’ dormitories to fetch the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map from his trunk; he was so quick that he and Ron were ready to leave at least five minutes before Hermione hurried back down from the girls’ dormitories, wearing scarf, gloves and one of her own knobbly elf hats.
‘Well, it's cold out there!’ she said defensively, as Ron clicked his tongue impatiently.
They crept through the portrait hole and covered themselves hastily in the Cloak—Ron had grown so much he now needed to crouch to prevent his feet showing—then, moving slowly and cautiously, they proceeded down the many staircases, pausing at intervals to check on the map for signs of Filch or Mrs. Morris. They were lucky; they saw nobody but Nearly Headless Nick, who was gliding along absent-mindedly humming something that sounded horribly like ‘Weasley is our King'. They crept across the Entrance Hall and out into the silent, snowy grounds. With a great leap of his heart, Harry saw little golden squares of light ahead and smoke coiling up from Hagrid's chimney. He set off at a quick march, the other two jostling and bumping along behind him. They crunched excitedly through the thickening snow until at last they reached the wooden front door. When Harry raised his fist and knocked three times, a dog started barking frantically inside.
‘Hagrid, it's us!’ Harry called through the keyhole.
‘Shoulda known!’ said a gruff voice.
They beamed at each other under the Cloak; they could tell by Hagrid's voice that he was pleased. ‘Bin home three seconds ... out the way, Fang ... out the way, yeh dozy dog ...’
The bolt was drawn back, the door creaked open and Hagrid's head appeared in the gap.
Hermione screamed.
‘Merlin's beard, keep it down!’ said Hagrid hastily, staring wildly over their heads. ‘Under that Cloak, are yeh? Well, get in, get in!’
‘I'm sorry!’ Hermione gasped, as the three of them squeezed past Hagrid into the house and pulled the Cloak off themselves so he could see them. ‘I just—oh, Hagrid!’
‘It's nuthin', it's nuthin'!’ said Hagrid hastily, shutting the door behind them and hurrying to close all the curtains, but Hermione continued to gaze up at him in horror.
Hagrid's hair was matted with congealed blood and his left eye had been reduced to a puffy slit amid a mass of purple and black bruising. There were many cuts on his face and hands, some of them still bleeding, and he was moving gingerly, which made Harry suspect broken ribs. It was obvious that he had only just got home: a thick black travelling cloak lay over the back of a chair and a haversack large enough to carry several small children leaned against the wall inside the door. Hagrid himself, twice the size of a normal man, was now limping over to the fire and placing a copper kettle over it.
‘What happened to you?’ Harry demanded, while Fang danced around them all, trying to lick their faces.
‘Told yeh, nuthin',’ said Hagrid firmly. ‘Want a cuppa?’
‘Come off it,’ said Ron, ‘you're in a right state!’
‘I'm tellin’ yeh, I'm fine,’ said Hagrid, straightening up and turning to beam at them all, but wincing. ‘Blimey, it's good ter see yeh three again—had good summers, did yeh?’
‘Hagrid, you've been attacked!’ said Ron.
‘Fer the las’ time, it's nuthin'!’ said Hagrid firmly.
‘Would you say it was nothing if one of us turned up with a pound of mince instead of a face?’ Ron demanded.
‘You ought to go and see Madam Pomfrey, Hagrid,’ said Hermione anxiously, ‘some of those cuts look nasty.’
‘I'm dealin’ with it, all righ?’ said Hagrid repressively.
He walked across to the enormous wooden table that stood in the middle of his cabin and twitched aside a tea towel that had been lying on it. Underneath was a raw, bloody, green-tinged steak slightly larger than the average car tyre.
‘You're not going to eat that, are you, Hagrid?’ said Ron, leaning in for a closer look. ‘It looks poisonous.’
‘It's s'posed ter look like that, it's dragon meat,’ Hagrid said. ‘An’ I didn’ get it ter eat.’
He picked up the steak and slapped it over the left side of his face. Greenish blood trickled down into his beard as he gave a soft moan of satisfaction.
‘Tha's better. It helps with the stingin', yeh know.’
‘So, are you going to tell us what's happened to you?’ Harry asked.
‘Can't, Harry. Top secret. More'n me job's worth ter tell yeh that.’
‘Did the giants beat you up, Hagrid?’ asked Hermione quietly.
Hagrid's fingers slipped on the dragon steak and it slid squelchily on to his chest.
‘Giants?’ said Hagrid, catching the steak before it reached his belt and slapping it back over his face, ‘who said anythin’ abou’ giants? Who yeh bin talkin’ to? Who's told yeh what I've—who's said I've bin—eh?’
‘We guessed,’ said Hermione apologetically.
‘Oh, yeh did, did yeh?’ said Hagrid, surveying her sternly with the eye that was not hidden by the steak.
‘It was kind of ... obvious,’ said Ron. Harry nodded.
Hagrid glared at them, then snorted, threw the steak back on to the table and strode over to the kettle, which was now whistling.
‘Never known kids like you three fer knowin’ more'n yeh oughta,’ he muttered, splashing boiling water into three of his bucket-shaped mugs. ‘An’ I'm not complimentin’ yeh, neither. Nosy, some'd call it. Interferin'.’
But his beard twitched.
‘So you have been to look for giants?’ said Harry, grinning as he sat down at the table.
Hagrid set tea in front of each of them, sat down, picked up his steak again and slapped it back over his face.
‘Yeah, all righ',’ he grunted, ‘I have.’
‘And you found them?’ said Hermione in a hushed voice.
‘Well, they're not that difficult ter find, ter be honest, said Hagrid. ‘Pretty big, see.’
‘Where are they?’ said Ron.
‘Mountains,’ said Hagrid unhelpfully.
‘So why don't Muggles—?’
‘They do,’ said Hagrid darkly. ‘On'y their deaths are always put down ter mountaineerin’ accidents, aren’ they?’
He adjusted the steak a little so that it covered the worst of the bruising.
‘Come on, Hagrid, tell us what you've been up to!’ said Ron. ‘Tell us about being attacked by the giants and Harry can tell you about being attacked by the dementors—’
Hagrid choked in his mug and dropped his steak at the same time; a large quantity of spit, tea and dragon blood was sprayed over the table as Hagrid coughed and spluttered and the steak slid, with a soft splat, on to the floor.
‘Whadda yeh mean, attacked by dementors?’ growled Hagrid.
‘Didn't you know?’ Hermione asked him, wide-eyed.
‘I don’ know any thin’ that's bin happenin’ since I left. I was on a secret mission, wasn’ I, didn’ wan’ owls followin’ me all over the place—ruddy dementors! Yeh're not serious?’
‘Yeah, I am, they turned up in Little Whinging and attacked my cousin and me, and then the Ministry of Magic expelled me—’
‘WHAT?’
‘—and I had to go to a hearing and everything, but tell us about the giants first.’
‘You were expelled!’
‘Tell us about your summer and I'll tell you about mine.’
Hagrid glared at him through his one open eye. Harry looked right back, an expression of innocent determination on his face.
‘Oh, all righ',’ Hagrid said in a resigned voice.
He bent down and tugged the dragon steak out of Fang's mouth.
‘Oh, Hagrid, don't, it's not hygien—’ Hermione began, but Hagrid had already slapped the meat back over his swollen eye.
He took another fortifying gulp of tea, then said, ‘Well, we set off righ’ after term ended—’
‘Madame Maxime went with you, then?’ Hermione interjected.
‘Yeah, tha's righ',’ said Hagrid, and a softened expression appeared on the few inches of face that were not obscured by beard or green steak. ‘Yeah, it was jus’ the pair of us. An’ I'll tell yeh this, she's not afraid of roughin’ it, Olympe. Yeh know, she's a fine, well-dressed woman, an’ knowin’ where we was goin’ I wondered ‘ow she'd feel abou’ clamberin’ over boulders an’ sleepin’ in caves an’ tha', bu’ she never complained once.’
‘You knew where you were going?’ Harry repeated. ‘You knew where the giants were?’
‘Well, Durnbledore knew, an’ he told us,’ said Hagrid.
‘Are they hidden?’ asked Ron. ‘Is it a secret, where they are?’
‘Not really,’ said Hagrid, shaking his shaggy head. ‘It's jus’ that mos’ wizards aren’ bothered where they are, ‘s'long as it's a good long way away. But where they are's very difficult ter get ter, fer humans anyway, so we needed Dumbledore's instructions. Took us abou’ a month ter get there—’
‘A month?’ said Ron, as though he had never heard of a journey lasting such a ridiculously long time. ‘But—why couldn't you just grab a Portkey or something?’
There was an odd expression in Hagrid's unobscured eye as he surveyed Ron; it was almost pitying.
‘We're bein’ watched, Ron,’ he said gruffly.
‘What d'you mean?’
‘Yeh don’ understand,’ said Hagrid. ‘The Ministry's keepin’ an eye on Dumbledore an’ anyone they reckon's in league with ‘im, an'—’
‘We know about that,’ said Harry quickly, keen to hear the rest of Hagrid's story, ‘we know about the Ministry watching Dumbledore—’
‘So you couldn't use magic to get there?’ asked Ron, looking thunderstruck, ‘you had to act like Muggles all the way?’
‘Well, not exactly all the way,’ said Hagrid cagily. ‘We jus’ had ter be careful, ‘cause Olympe an’ me, we stick out a bit—’
Ron made a stifled noise somewhere between a snort and a sniff and hastily took a gulp of tea.
‘—so we're not hard ter follow. We was pretendin’ we was goin’ on holiday together, so we got inter France an’ we made like we was headin’ fer where Olympe's school is, ‘cause we knew we was bein’ tailed by someone from the Ministry. We had to go slow, ‘cause I'm not really s'posed ter use magic an’ we knew the Ministry'd be lookin’ fer a reason ter run us in. But we managed ter give the berk tailin’ us the slip round abou’ Dee-John—’
‘Ooooh, Dijon?’ said Hermione excitedly. ‘I've been there on holiday, did you see—?’
She fell silent at the look on Ron's face.
‘We chanced a bit o’ magic after that an’ it wasn’ a bad journey. Ran inter a couple o’ mad trolls on the Polish border an’ I had a sligh’ disagreement with a vampire in a pub in Minsk, bu’ apart from tha’ couldn't'a bin smoother.
‘An’ then we reached the place, an’ we started trekkin’ up through the mountains, lookin’ fer signs of ‘em ...
‘We had ter lay off the magic once we got near ‘em. Partly ‘cause they don’ like wizards an’ we didn’ want ter put their backs up too soon, an’ partly ‘cause Dumbledore had warned us You-Know-Who was bound ter be after the giants an’ all. Said it was odds on he'd sent a messenger off ter them already. Told us ter be very careful of drawin’ attention ter ourselves as we got nearer in case there was Death Eaters around.’
Hagrid paused for a long draught of tea.
‘Go on!’ said Harry urgently.
‘Found ‘em,’ said Hagrid baldly. ‘Went over a ridge one nigh’ an’ there they was, spread ou’ underneath us. Little fires burnin’ below an’ huge shadows ... it was like watchin’ bits o’ the mountain movin'.’
‘How big are they?’ asked Ron in a hushed voice.
’ ‘Bout twenty feet,’ said Hagrid casually. ‘Some o’ the bigger ones mighta bin twenty-five.’
‘And how many were there?’ asked Harry.
‘I reckon abou’ seventy or eighty,’ said Hagrid.
‘Is that all?’ said Hermione.
‘Yep,’ said Hagrid sadly, ‘eighty left, an’ there was loads once, musta bin a hundred diff'rent tribes from all over the world. Bu’ they've bin dyin’ out fer ages. Wizards killed a few, o’ course, bu’ mostly they killed each other, an’ now they're dyin’ out faster than ever. They're not made ter live bunched up together like tha'. Dumbledore says it's our fault, it was the wizards who forced ‘em to go an’ made ‘em live a good long way from us an’ they had no choice bu’ ter stick together fer their own protection.’
‘So,’ said Harry, ‘you saw them and then what?’
‘Well, we waited till morning, didn’ want ter go sneakin’ up on ‘em in the dark, fer our own safety,’ said Hagrid. ’ ‘Bout three in the mornin’ they fell asleep jus’ where they was sittin'. We didn’ dare sleep. Fer one thing, we wanted ter make sure none of ‘em woke up an’ came up where we were, an’ fer another, the snorin’ was unbelievable. Caused an avalanche near mornin'.
‘Anyway once it was light we wen’ down ter see ‘em.’
‘Just like that?’ said Ron, looking awestruck. ‘You just walked right into a giant camp?’
‘Well, Dumbledore'd told us how ter do it,’ said Hagrid. ‘Give the Gurg gifts, show some respect, yeh know.’
‘Give the what gifts?’ asked Harry.
‘Oh, the Gurg— means the chief.’
‘How could you tell which one was the Gurg?’ asked Ron.
Hagrid grunted in amusement.
‘No problem,’ he said. ‘He was the biggest, the ugliest and the laziest. Sittin’ there waitin’ ter be brought food by the others. Dead goats an’ such like. Name o’ Karkus. I'd put him at twenty-two, twenty-three feet an’ the weight o’ a couple o’ bull elephants. Skin like rhino hide an’ all.’
‘And you just walked up to him?’ said Hermione breathlessly.
‘Well ... down ter him, where he was lyin’ in the valley. They was in this dip between four pretty high mountains, see, beside a mountain lake, an’ Karkus was lyin’ by the lake roarin’ at the others ter feed him an’ his wife. Olympe an’ I went down the mountainside—’
‘But didn't they try and kill you when they saw you?’ asked Ron incredulously.
‘It was def'nitely on some o’ their minds,’ said Hagrid, shrugging, ‘but we did what Dumbledore told us ter do, which was ter hold our gift up high an’ keep our eyes on the Gurg an’ ignore the others. So tha's what we did. An’ the rest of ‘em went quiet an’ watched us pass an’ we got right up ter Karkuss leet an we bowed an’ put our present down in front o’ him.’
‘What do you give a giant?’ asked Ron eagerly. ‘Food?’
‘Nah, he can get food all righ’ fer himself,’ said Hagrid. ‘We took him magic. Giants like magic, jus’ don’ like us usin’ it against ‘em. Anyway, that firs’ day we gave ‘im a branch o’ Gubraithian fire.’
Hermione said, ‘Wow!’ softly, but Harry and Ron both frowned in puzzlement.
‘A branch of—?’
‘Everlasting fire,’ said Hermione irritably, ‘you ought to know that by now. Professor Flitwick's mentioned it at least twice in class!’
‘Well, anyway,’ said Hagrid quickly, intervening before Ron could answer back, ‘Dumbledore'd bewitched this branch to burn fer evermore, which isn’ somethin’ any wizard could do, an’ so I lies it down in the snow by Karkuss feet and says, “A gift to the Gurg of the giants from Albus Dumbledore, who sends his respectful greetings.” ’
‘And what did Karkus say?’ asked Harry eagerly.
‘Nothin',’ said Hagrid. ‘Didn’ speak English.’
‘You're kidding!’
‘Didn’ matter,’ said Hagrid imperturbably, ‘Dumbledore had warned us tha’ migh’ happen. Karkus knew enough to yell fer a couple o’ giants who knew our lingo an’ they translated fer us.’
‘And did he like the present?’ asked Ron.
‘Oh yeah, it went down a storm once they understood what it was,’ said Hagrid, turning his dragon steak over to press the cooler side to his swollen eye. ‘Very pleased. So then I said, “Albus Dumbledore asks the Gurg to speak with his messenger when he returns tomorrow with another gift.” ’
‘Why couldn't you speak to them that day?’ asked Hermione.
‘Dumbledore wanted us ter take it very slow,’ said Hagrid. ‘Let ‘em see we kept our promises. We'll come back tomorrow with another present, an’ then we do come back with another present—gives a good impression, see? An’ gives them time ter test out the firs’ present an’ fnd out it's a good one, an’ get ‘em eager fer more. In any case, giants like Karkus—overload ‘em with information an’ they'll kill yeh jus’ to simplify things. So we bowed outta the way an’ went off an’ found ourselves a nice little cave ter spend that night in an’ the followin’ mornin’ we went back an’ this time we found Karkus sittin’ up waitin’ fer us lookin’ all eager.’
‘And you talked to him?’
‘Oh yeah. Firs’ we presented him with a nice battle helmet—goblin-made an’ indestructible, yeh know—an’ then we sat down an’ we talked.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Not much,’ said Hagrid. ‘Listened mostly. Bu’ there were good signs. He'd heard o’ Dumbledore, heard he'd argued against the killin’ o’ the last giants in Britain. Karkus seemed ter be quite int'rested in what Dumbledore had ter say. An’ a few o’ the others, ‘specially the ones who had some English, they gathered round an’ listened too. We were hopeful when we left that day. Promised ter come back next mornin’ with another present.
‘Bu’ that night it all wen’ wrong.’
‘What d'you mean?’ said Ron quickly.
‘Well, like I say, they're not meant ter live together, giants,’ said Hagrid sadly. ‘Not in big groups like that. They can’ help themselves, they half kill each other every few weeks. The men fight each other an’ the women fight each other; the remnants of the old tribes fight each other, an’ that's even without squabbles over food an’ the best fires an’ sleepin’ spots. Yeh'd think, seein’ as how their whole race is abou’ finished, they'd lay off each other, bu’ ...’
Hagrid sighed deeply.
‘That night a fight broke out, we saw it from the mouth of our cave, lookin’ down on the valley. Went on fer hours, yeh wouldn’ believe the noise. An’ when the sun came up the snow was scarlet an’ his head was lyin’ at the bottom o’ the lake.’
‘Whose head?’ gasped Hermione.
‘Karkus's,’ said Hagrid heavily. ‘There was a new Gurg, Golgomath.’ He sighed deeply. ‘Well, we hadn’ bargained on a new Gurg two days after we'd made friendly contact with the firs’ one, an’ we had a funny feelin’ Golgomath wouldn’ be so keen ter listen to us, bu’ we had ter try.’
‘You went to speak to him?’ asked Ron incredulously. ‘After you'd watched him rip off another giant's head?’
‘Course we did,’ said Hagrid, ‘we hadn’ gone all that way ter give up after two days! We wen’ down with the next present we'd meant ter give ter Karkus.
‘I knew it was no go before I'd opened me mouth. He was sitting there wearin’ Karkus's helmet, leerin’ at us as we got nearer. He's massive, one o’ the biggest ones there. Black hair an’ matchin’ teeth an’ a necklace o’ bones. Human-lookin’ bones, some of ‘em. Well, I gave it a go—held out a great roll o’ dragon skin—an’ said, “A gift fer the Gurg of the giants—'” Nex’ thing I knew, I was hangin’ upside-down in the air by me feet, two of his mates had grabbed me.’
Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth.
‘How did you get out of that?’ asked Harry.
‘Wouldn'ta done if Olympe hadn’ bin there,’ said Hagrid. ‘She pulled out her wand an’ did some o’ the fastes’ spellwork I've ever seen. Ruddy marvellous. Hit the two holdin’ me right in the eyes with Conjunctivitus Curses an’ they dropped me straightaway—'bu’ we were in trouble then, ‘cause we'd used magic against ‘em, an’ that's what giants hate abou’ wizards. We had ter leg it an’ we knew there was no way we was going ter be able ter march inter the camp again.’
‘Blimey, Hagrid,’ said Ron quietly.
‘So, how come it's taken you so long to get home if you were only there for three days?’ asked Hermione.
‘We didn’ leave after three days!’ said Hagrid, looking outraged. ‘Dumbledore was relyin’ on us!’
‘But you've just said there was no way you could go back!’
‘Not by daylight we couldn', no. We just had ter rethink a bit. Spent a couple o’ days lyin’ low up in the cave an’ watchin'. An’ wha’ we saw wasn’ good.’
‘Did he rip off more heads?’ asked Hermione, sounding squeamish.
‘No,’ said Hagrid, ‘I wish he had.’
‘What d'you mean?’
‘I mean we soon found out he didn’ object ter all wizards—'just us.’
‘Death Eaters?’ said Harry quickly.
‘Yep,’ said Hagrid darkly. ‘Couple oi ‘em were visitin’ him ev'ry day, bringin’ gifts ter the Gurg, an’ he wasn’ dangling them upside-down.’
‘How d'you know they were Death Eaters?’ said Ron.
‘Because I recognised one of ‘em,’ Hagrid growled. ‘Macnair, remember him? Bloke they sent ter kill Buckbeak? Maniac, he is. Likes killin’ as much as Golgomath; no wonder they were gettin’ on so well.’
‘So Macnair's persuaded the giants to join You-Know-Who?’ said Hermione desperately.
‘Hold yer hippogriffs, I haven’ finished me story yet!’ said Hagrid indignantly, who, considering he had not wanted to tell them anything in the first place, now seemed to be rather enjoying himself. ‘Me an’ Olympe talked it over an’ we agreed, jus’ ‘cause the Gurg looked like favourin’ You-Know-Who didn’ mean all of ‘em would. We had ter try an’ persuade some o’ the others, the ones who hadn’ wanted Golgomath as Gurg.’
‘How could you tell which ones they were?’ asked Ron.
‘Well, they were the ones bein’ beaten to a pulp, weren’ they?’ said Hagrid patiently. ‘The ones with any sense were keepin’ outta Golgomath's way, hidin’ out in caves roun’ the gully jus’ like we were. So we decided we'd go pokin’ round the caves by night an’ see if we couldn’ persuade a few o’ them.’
‘You went poking around dark caves looking for giants?’ said Ron, with awed respect in his voice.
‘Well, it wasn’ the giants who worried us most,’ said Hagrid. ‘We were more concerned abou’ the Death Eaters. Dumbledore had told us before we wen’ not ter tangle with ‘em if we could avoid it, an’ the trouble was they knew we was around—'spect Golgomath told ‘em abou’ us. At night, when the giants were sleepin’ an’ we wanted ter be creepin’ inter the caves, Macnair an’ the other one were sneakin’ round the mountains lookin’ fer us. I was hard put to stop Olympe jumpin’ out at ‘em,’ said Hagrid, the corners of his mouth lifting his wild beard, ‘she was rarin’ ter attack ‘em ... she's somethin’ when she's roused, Olympe ... fiery, yeh know ...'spect it's the French in her ...’
Hagrid gazed misty-eyed into the fire. Harry allowed him thirty seconds of reminiscence before clearing his throat loudly.
‘So, what happened? Did you ever get near any of the other giants?’
‘What? Oh ... oh, yeah, we did. Yeah, on the third night after Karkus was killed we crept outta the cave we'd bin hidin’ in an’ headed back down inter the gully, keepin’ our eyes skinned fer the Death Eaters. Got inside a few o’ the caves, no go— then, in abou’ the sixth one, we found three giants hidin'.’
‘Cave must've been cramped,’ said Ron.
‘Wasn’ room ter swing a Kneazle,’ said Hagrid.
‘Didn't they attack you when they saw you?’ asked Hermione.
‘Probably woulda done if they'd bin in any condition,’ said Hagrid, ‘but they was badly hurt, all three o’ them; Golgomath's lot had beaten ‘em unconscious; they'd woken up an’ crawled inter the nearest shelter they could find. Anyway, one o’ them had a bit of English an’ ‘e translated fer the others, an’ what we had ter say didn’ seem ter go down too badly. So we kep’ goin’ back, visitin’ the wounded ... I reckon we had abou’ six or seven o’ them convinced at one poin'.’
‘Six or seven?’ said Ron eagerly. ‘Well that's not bad—are they going to come over here and start fighting You-Know-Who with us?’
But Hermione said, ‘What do you mean “at one point", Hagrid?’
Hagrid looked at her sadly.
‘Golgomath's lot raided the caves. The ones tha’ survived didn’ wan’ no more ter to do with us after that.’
‘So ... so there aren't any giants coming?’ said Ron, looking disappointed.
‘Nope,’ said Hagrid, heaving a deep sigh as he turned over his steak and applied the cooler side to his face, ‘but we did wha’ we meant ter do, we gave ‘em Dumbledore's message an’ some o’ them heard it an’ I spect some o’ them'll remember it. Jus’ maybe, them that don’ want ter stay around Golgomath'll move outta the mountains, an’ there's gotta be a chance they'll remember Dumbledore's friendly to ‘em ... could be they'll come.’
Snow was filling up the window now. Harry became aware that the knees of his robes were soaked through: Fang was drooling with his head in Harry's lap.
‘Hagrid?’ said Hermione quietly after a while.
‘Mmm?’
‘Did you ... was there any sign of ... did you hear anything about your ... your ... mother while you were there?’
Hagrids unobscured eye rested upon her and Hermione looked rather scared.
‘I'm sorry ... I ... forget it—’
‘Dead,’ Hagrid grunted. ‘Died years ago. They told me.’
‘Oh ... I'm ... I'm really sorry,’ said Hermione in a very small voice. Hagrid shrugged his massive shoulders.
‘No need,’ he said shortly. ‘Can't remember her much. Wasn’ a great mother.’
They were silent again. Hermione glanced nervously at Harry and Ron, plainly wanting them to speak.
‘But you still haven't explained how you got in this state, Hagrid,’ Ron said, gesturing towards Hagrid's bloodstained face.
‘Or why you're back so late,’ said Harry. ‘Sirius says Madame Maxime got back ages ago—’
‘Who attacked you?’ said Ron.
‘I haven’ bin attacked!’ said Hagrid emphatically. ‘I—’
But the rest of his words were drowned in a sudden outbreak of rapping on the door. Hermione gasped; her mug slipped through her fingers and smashed on the floor; Fang yelped. All four of them stared at the window beside the doorway. The shadow of somebody small and squat rippled across the thin curtain.
‘It's her!’ Ron whispered.
‘Get under here!’ Harry said quickly, seizing the Invisibility Cloak, he whirled it over himself and Hermione while Ron tore around the table and dived under the Cloak as well. Huddled together, they backed away into a corner. Fang was barking madly at the door. Hagrid looked thoroughly confused.
‘Hagrid, hide our mugs!’
Hagrid seized Harry and Ron's mugs and shoved them under the cushion in Fang's basket. Fang was now leaping up at the door; Hagrid pushed him out of the way with his foot and pulled it open.
Professor Umbridge was standing in the doorway wearing her green tweed cloak and a matching hat with earflaps. Lips pursed, she leaned back so as to see Hagrid's face; she barely reached his navel.
‘So,’ she said slowly and loudly, as though speaking to somebody deaf. ‘You're Hagrid, are you?’
Without waiting for an answer she strolled into the room, her bulging eyes rolling in every direction.
‘Get away,’ she snapped, waving her handbag at Fang, who had bounded up to her and was attempting to lick her face.
‘Er—I don’ want ter be rude,’ said Hagrid, staring at her, ‘but who the ruddy hell are you?’
‘My name is Dolores Umbridge.’
Her eyes were sweeping the cabin. Twice they stared directly into the corner where Harry stood, sandwiched between Ron and Hermione.
‘Dolores Umbridge?’ Hagrid said, sounding thoroughly confused. ‘I thought you were one o’ them Ministry—don’ you work with Fudge?’
‘I was Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, yes,’ said Umbridge, now pacing around the cabin, taking in every tiny detail within, from the haversack against the wall to the abandoned travelling cloak. ‘I am now the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher—’
‘Tha's brave of yeh,’ said Hagrid, ‘there's not many'd take tha’ job any more.’
‘—and Hogwarts High Inquisitor,’ said Umbridge, giving no sign that she had heard him.
‘Wha's that?’ said Hagrid, frowning.
‘Precisely what I was going to ask,’ said Umbridge, pointing at the broken shards of china on the floor that had been Hermione's mug.
‘Oh,’ said Hagrid, with a most unhelpful glance towards the corner where Harry, Ron and Hermione stood hidden, ‘oh, tha’ was ... was Fang. He broke a mug. So I had ter use this one instead.’
Hagrid pointed to the mug from which he had been drinking, one hand still clamped over the dragon steak pressed to his eye. Umbridge stood facing him now, taking in every detail of his appearance instead of the cabins.
‘I heard voices,’ she said quietly.
‘I was talkin’ ter Fang,’ said Hagrid stoutly.
‘And was he talking back to you?’
‘Well ... in a manner o’ speakin',’ said Hagrid, looking uncomfortable. ‘I sometimes say Fang's near enough human—’
‘There are three sets of footprints in the snow leading from the castle doors to your cabin,’ said Umbridge sleekly.
Hermione gasped; Harry clapped a hand over her mouth. Luckily, Fang was sniffing loudly around the hem of Professor Umbridge's robes and she did not appear to have heard.
‘Well, I on'y jus’ got back,’ said Hagrid, waving an enormous hand at the haversack. ‘Maybe someone came ter call earlier an’ I missed ‘em.’
‘There are no footsteps leading away from your cabin door.’
‘Well, I ... I don’ know why that'd be ...’ said Hagrid, tugging nervously at his beard and again glancing towards the corner where Harry, Ron and Hermione stood, as though asking for help. ‘Erm ...’
Umbridge wheeled round and strode the length of the cabin, looking around carefully. She bent and peered under the bed. She opened Hagrid's cupboards. She passed within two inches of where Harry, Ron and Hermione stood pressed against the wall; Harry actually pulled in his stomach as she walked by. After looking carefully inside the enormous cauldron Hagrid used for cooking, she wheeled round again and said, ‘What has happened to you? How did you sustain those injuries?’
Hagrid hastily removed the dragon steak from his face, which in Harry's opinion was a mistake, because the black and purple bruising all around his eye was now clearly visible, not to mention the large amount of fresh and congealed blood on his face. ‘Oh, I ... had a bit of an accident,’ he said lamely.
‘What sort of accident?’
‘I—I tripped.’
‘You tripped,’ she repeated coolly.
‘Yeah, tha's right. Over ... over a friends broomstick. I don’ fly, meself. Well, look at the size o’ me, I don’ reckon there's a broomstick that'd hold me. Friend o’ mine breeds Abraxan horses, I dunno if you ve ever seen em, big beasts, winged, yer know, I've had a bit of a ride on one o’ them an’ it was—’
‘Where have you been?’ asked Umbridge, cutting coolly through Hagrid's babbling.
‘Where've I—?’
‘Been, yes,’ she said. ‘Term started two months ago. Another teacher has had to cover your classes. None of your colleagues has been able to give me any information as to your whereabouts. You left no address. Where have you been?’
There was a pause in which Hagrid stared at her with his newly uncovered eye. Harry could almost hear his brain working furiously.
‘I—I've been away for me health,’ he said.
‘For your health,’ repeated Professor Umbridge. Her eyes travelled over Hagrid's discoloured and swollen face; dragon blood dripped gently and silently on to his waistcoat. ‘I see.’
‘Yeah,’ said Hagrid, ‘bit o'—o’ fresh air, yeh know—’
‘Yes, as gamekeeper fresh air must be so difficult to come by’ said Umbridge sweetly. The small patch of Hagrid's face that was not black or purple, flushed.
‘Well—change o’ scene, yeh know—’
‘Mountain scenery?’ said Umbridge swiftly.
She knows, Harry thought desperately.
‘Mountains?’ Hagrid repeated, clearly thinking fast. ‘Nope, South o’ France fer me. Bit o’ sun an’ ... an’ sea.’
‘Really?’ said Umbridge. ‘You don't have much of a tan.’
‘Yeah ... well ... sensitive skin,’ said Hagrid, attempting an ingratiating smile. Harry noticed that two of his teeth had been knocked out. Umbridge looked at him coldly; his smile faltered. Then she hoisted her handbag a little higher into the crook of her arm and said, ‘I shall, of course, be informing the Minister of your late return.’
‘Righ',’ said Hagrid, nodding.
‘You ought to know, too, that as High Inquisitor it is my unfortunate but necessary duty to inspect my fellow teachers. So I daresay we shall meet again soon enough.’
She turned sharply and marched back to the door.
‘You're inspectin’ us?’ Hagrid repeated blankly, looking after her.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Umbridge softly, looking back at him with her hand on the door handle. ‘The Ministry is determined to weed out unsatisfactory teachers, Hagrid. Goodnight.’
She left, closing the door behind her with a snap. Harry made to pull off the Invisibility Cloak but Hermione seized his wrist.
‘Not yet,’ she breathed in his ear. ‘She might not be gone yet.’
Hagrid seemed to be thinking the same way; he stumped across the room and pulled back the curtain an inch or so.
‘She's goin’ back ter the castle,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Blimey ... inspectin’ people, is she?’
‘Yeah,’ said Harry, pulling off the Cloak. ‘Trelawney's on probation already ...’
‘Um ... what sort of thing are you planning to do with us in class, Hagrid?’ asked Hermione.
‘Oh, don’ you worry abou’ that, I've got a great load o’ lessons planned,’ said Hagrid enthusiastically, scooping up his dragon steak from the table and slapping it over his eye again. ‘I've bin keepin’ a couple o’ creatures saved fer yer OWL year; you wait, they're somethin’ really special.’
‘Erm ... special in what way?’ asked Hermione tentatively.
‘I'm not sayin',’ said Hagrid happily. ‘I don’ want ter spoil the surprise.’
‘Look, Hagrid,’ said Hermione urgently, dropping all pretence, ‘Professor Umbridge won't be at all happy if you bring anything to class that's too dangerous.’
‘Dangerous?’ said Hagrid, looking genially bemused. ‘Don’ be silly, I wouldn’ give yeh anythin’ dangerous! I mean, all righ', they can look after themselves—’
‘Hagrid, you've got to pass Umbridge's inspection, and to do that it would really be better if she saw you teaching us how to look after Porlocks, how to tell the difference between Knarls and hedgehogs, stuff like that!’ said Hermione earnestly.
‘But tha's not very interestin', Hermione,’ said Hagrid. ‘The stuff I've got's much more impressive. I've bin bringin’ ‘em on fer years, I reckon I've got the on'y domestic herd in Britain.’
‘Hagrid ... please ...’ said Hermione, a note of real desperation in her voice. ‘Umbridge is looking for any excuse to get rid of teachers she thinks are too close to Dumbledore. Please, Hagrid, teach us something dull that's bound to come up in our OWL.’
But Hagrid merely yawned widely and cast a one-eyed look of longing towards the vast bed in the corner.
‘Lis'en, it's bin a long day an’ it's late,’ he said, patting Hermione gently on the shoulder, so that her knees gave way and hit the floor with a thud. ‘Oh—sorry—’ He pulled her back up by the neck of her robes. ‘Look, don’ you go worryin’ abou’ me, I promise yeh I've got really good stuff planned fer yer lessons now I'm back ... now you lot had better get back up to the castle, an’ don’ forget ter wipe yer tootprints out behind yeh!’
‘I dunno if you got through to him,’ said Ron a short while later when, having checked that the coast was clear, they walked back up to the castle through the thickening snow, leaving no trace behind them due to the Obliteration Charm Hermione was performing as they went.
‘Then I'll go back again tomorrow,’ said Hermione determinedly. ‘I'll plan his lessons for him if I have to. I don't care if she throws out Trelawney but she's not getting rid of Hagrid!’

狮子与蛇

    此后两星期中，哈利觉得他胸口好像戴着一个护身符，一个热乎乎的秘密支撑着他上完了乌姆里奇的课，甚至使他能看着她那可怕的癞蛤蟆眼温和地微笑。他和D.A.在她的眼皮底下抵抗她，做着她和魔法部最害怕的事情。每当她的课上要读威尔伯特斯林卡的书时，他就去回忆最近集会的满意片断：纳威如何解除了赫敏的武器，科林克里维如何在三次集会之后终于掌握了障碍咒，帕瓦蒂佩蒂尔如何成功地运用粉碎咒把摆满窥镜的桌子变成了尘土。

    他发现几乎无法把D.A.的集会固定在一星期的某个晚上，因为要避开三支魁地奇球队的训练，而且它们常因天气情况而变更。但哈利并不烦恼，他觉得集会时间不固定或许更好。如果有人监视他们的话，倒不容易找出规律。

    赫敏很快想出了一种很聪明的方式，用来在有临时变更的情况下通知所有成员下次集会的时间。因为如果不同学院的人频繁地穿过礼堂去交谈，容易令人起疑。她给每个成员一枚假加隆（罗恩第一次看到篮子时很兴奋，以为她真的-272　？发金币呢）。

    “看到硬币边缘的数字了吗？”第四次集会结束时，赫敏举起一枚硬币给大家看。硬币在火把照耀下发出黄灿灿的光芒。“在真加隆上它只是一个编号，代表铸成这枚硬币的妖精。但这些假币上的数字会变动，显示下次集会的时间。改时间时硬币会发热，如果你把它放在口袋里，就会感觉到。我们每人拿一枚，哈利确定了下次集会时间，就修改他硬币上的数字，因为我施了一个变化咒，大家的硬币都会同样变化。”

    赫敏说完后众人默不作声，她看看一张张仰望着她的面孔，有些发窘。

    “嗯——　我以为是个好主意，”她没把握地说，“我想，就算乌姆里奇要翻我们的口袋，带一个加隆也没啥可疑的，是不是？可是？？好吧，如果你们不想用？？”

    “你会施变化咒？”泰瑞布特问。

    “会啊。”赫敏说。

    “可那是？？那是N.E.w.Ts水平啊，”他虚弱地说。

    “哦，”赫敏努力显得谦虚一些，“哦？？啊？？是，我想是的？？”

    “你怎么没在拉文克劳？”他惊奇地望着赫敏问道，“你有这样的脑子？”

    “分院帽是正经考虑过要把我放到拉文克劳，”赫敏轻松地说，“可最后决定了格兰芬多。那么，我们就用这些加隆啦？”

    一片赞同声，人人上前从篮里拿了一枚金币。哈利斜瞅着赫敏。

    “你知道这让我想起什么吗？”

    “不知道，什么呀？”

    “食死徒的伤疤。伏地魔碰到其中一个人的，所有人的伤疤都会痛，他们就知道该去找他了。”

    “对？？”赫敏轻声说，“我就是受了这个启发？？但你会发现我决定把时间刻在金属上，而不是成员的皮肤上？？”

    “嗯？？我喜欢你的方式，”哈利笑着把他的加隆揣进了口袋里，“我想惟一的危险是我们可能不小心把它给花了。”

    “机会不大，”罗恩有点悲哀地看着他的假币说，“我没有真加隆跟它混在一起。”

    随着本赛季的第一场魁地奇球赛——　格兰芬多队与斯莱特林队交锋的临近，D.A.的集会暂停了，因为安吉利娜坚持几乎每天训练。由于魁地奇杯长期没有赛事，人们更增加了对这场球赛的兴趣和热情。拉文克劳与赫奇帕奇非常关心比赛结果，因为他们来年要跟这两个队较量。两个学院的院长虽然表面装出洒脱的风度，却暗下决心要看到己方取胜。哈利看出麦格教授是多么希望他们打败斯莱特林，她在比赛前一星期免除了他们的家庭作业。

    -273　？“我想你们这一段够忙的了。”她高傲地说，大家都不敢相信自己的耳朵，直到她望着哈利和罗恩严肃地说，“同学们，我已经看惯了魁地奇杯摆在我书房里，实在不想把它交给斯内普教授，所以请用这多出的时间训练，行不行？”

    斯内普的偏向也明摆着：他老是为斯莱特林队预租球场，使得格兰芬多队很难找到场地训练。他还对多起斯莱特林学生企图在走廊里用魔法坑害格兰芬多球员的报告置若罔闻。当艾丽娅斯平内特眉毛长得挡住了眼睛和嘴巴、被送进校医院时，斯内普一口咬定是她自己用了生发咒，而不肯听十四个目击者的证词。他们明明看到斯莱特林队守门员迈尔斯布莱奇在图书馆里从背后对她施了魔法。

    哈利对格兰芬多队感到乐观，毕竟，他们以前从未输给过马尔福的球队。不可否认，罗恩的球技还没达到伍德的水平，但他正在刻苦提高。他最大的弱点是犯了错误就会失去信心，一个球没守住，他就会心烦意乱，结果丢球更多。但是，哈利也见过罗恩状态好时真正精彩的救球：在一次难忘的训练中，他单手吊在扫帚上，把鬼飞球从球门柱边大力踢开，使它一直飞到球场另一端，穿过了对方球门中间的圆环。其他队员都认为这个救球可与前不久爱尔兰世界级守门员巴里瑞安对波兰最好的追球手拉迪斯洛扎莫斯基的那一球相媲美。连弗雷德都说罗恩也许还会让他和乔治感到自豪，他们在认真地考虑承认和他有亲戚关系，他告诉罗恩他们四年来一直想否认这一点。

    惟一真正让哈利担心的是，罗恩在进球场之前就让斯莱克林队的战术搞慌了。哈利当然已经听惯了他们吹了四年多的牛皮，所以像“嘿，波特，我听到沃林顿发誓说星期六要把你从扫帚上撞下去”这样的话根本不会让他胆战心惊，只会让他笑笑而已。“沃林顿的准头那么差，如果他要撞的是我旁边那个人，我会更担心一些。”他的反驳让罗恩和赫敏哈哈大笑，潘西帕金森脸上得意的笑容消失了。

    但罗恩没有经受过这种侮辱、讥讽和恫吓的无情攻势。当一些斯莱特林的学生（其中有比他大得多的七年级学生）在走廊里低声说：“在校医院订好床位了吗，韦斯莱？”他没有笑，而是脸色有点发绿。当德拉科马尔福模仿罗恩漏接鬼飞球（每当他们见面时，他都会这么做）时，罗恩耳根通红，双手发抖，手上拿着什么都会掉。

    十月在狂风暴雨中结束，十一月来临了，寒如冻铁，每天早晨都是一层坚霜，冰冷的风割着手和面颊。天空和礼堂的天花板变成了淡淡的蓝灰色，霍格沃茨周围的群山戴上了雪帽，城堡里的气温下降了那么多，课间在走廊上休息时，许多学生都戴着厚厚的龙皮手套。

    比赛那天的清晨天气晴朗而寒冷。哈利醒过来看看罗恩的床，见他坐得笔直，手臂抱着膝盖，目光呆滞。

    -274　？“你没事吧？”哈利问。罗恩点点头，但没有说话。哈利不禁想起罗恩不慎对自己施了吐鼻涕虫咒的情景，他看上去和当时一样，面色苍白，汗津津的，且不说同样不肯张嘴说话。“你需要吃点早饭，”哈利鼓励地说，“走。”他们走进礼堂时，里面的人正迅速满起来，说话声比往常更响，气氛也更热烈。他们走过斯莱特林餐桌时，听见了一阵喧哗。哈利环顾左右，看到几乎每人都在银绿相间的围巾和帽子之外戴着个皇冠状的银徽章。哈利想看清徽章上是什么字，但他急于带罗恩赶快走过这张餐桌，没来得及细看。

    他们在格兰芬多的餐桌旁受到了热烈欢迎，这里每人都是金红相间的围巾和帽子。可是欢呼声不仅没使罗恩振作起来，倒似乎吸走了他最后的一点士气。他颓然坐到最近的一张凳子上，好像面前是他的断头饭。

    “我这么做准是疯了，”他声音沙哑地低声说，“疯了。”

    “别胡说，”哈利严厉地说，递给他一些麦片，“你没问题，紧张是正常的。”“我是废物，”罗恩说，“我没用，我根本打不了球。我是怎么想的？”“别泄气，”哈利坚定地说，“看看你那天用脚救的那个球，连弗雷德和乔治都说精彩——　”　罗恩痛苦地看着哈利。“那是意外，”他可怜巴巴地小声说，“是撞上的——　我从扫帚上滑了下去，你们都没看见，我正在想法爬上去时，碰巧踢到了鬼飞球。”“哦，”哈利迅速从这个扫兴的意外中恢复过来，“再来几次这样的意外，我们就赢定了，是不是？”赫敏和金妮坐在他们对面，戴着金红相间的围巾、手套，还有玫瑰花结。“你感觉怎么样？”金妮问罗恩，他正盯着碗中牛奶麦片的残余，像在认真考虑是否要把自己溺死在里面。

    “他只是有些紧张。”哈利说。“那是好现象，我发现你一点不紧张时考试就考不好。”赫敏热情地说。“你们好。”一个梦呓般的声音在他们身后说。哈利抬起头来：卢娜洛夫古德从拉文克劳餐桌旁溜达过来。许多人在看着她，有的公然笑着指指点点。她搞了一顶狮头形状的帽子，有真狮头那么大，摇摇欲坠地戴在头上。“我支持格兰芬多，”卢娜不必要地指着她的帽子说，“看它会干什么？？”她伸手用魔杖敲了敲帽子，它张开大嘴，发出一声逼真的狮吼，把周围人都吓了一跳。“不错吧？”卢娜快活地说，“我想让它吃一条象征斯莱特林的蛇，可是来不及了。不管怎样？？祝你好运，罗恩！”她飘然而去。大家还没从惊吓中恢复过来，只见安吉利娜带着凯蒂和艾丽-275　？娅匆匆走来，艾丽娅的眉毛总算被庞弗雷夫人变回正常了。“大家准备好之后，”安吉利娜说，“我们直接就去球场，查看情况，换衣服。”“我们一会儿就去，”哈利向她保证，“罗恩要吃点早饭。”　但十分钟后，罗恩显然什么没吃下，哈利想还是带他去更衣室吧。他们起身时，赫敏也站了起来，她抓住哈利的胳膊，把他拉到一边。“别让罗恩看到斯莱特林徽章上的字。”她急切地说。哈利询问地望着她，但她警告地摇摇头。罗恩已经走了过来，表情茫然而绝望。“祝你好运，罗恩，”赫敏踮起脚亲了亲他的面颊，“还有你，哈利——　”　穿过礼堂时，罗恩似乎清醒了一些，摸着面颊上被赫敏亲过的地方，显得有些困惑，仿佛不明白发生了什么。他似乎已经注意不到周围发生的事情。但哈利走过斯莱特林餐桌时好奇地瞥了一眼那些皇冠状的徽章，这次他看清了上面刻的字：韦斯莱是我们的王他感到这不会是什么好话，赶快带着罗恩穿过门厅，下了石阶，走入寒冷的空气中。、结霜的草地在脚下嘎吱嘎吱地响，他们匆匆走下斜坡，赶往体育场。没有风，天空是均匀的珠白色，这意味着能见度较好，但又不会有阳光刺眼。哈利一边走一边向罗恩指出这些有利条件，但搞不清罗恩听到了没有。

    安吉利娜已经换好衣服，正在对其他队员讲话。哈利和罗恩套上球袍（罗恩一开始穿反了，还是安吉利娜动了恻隐之心，过来帮了一把），坐下来听赛前训话，外面人声越来越响，人们从城堡拥向了球场。

    “我看到了斯莱特林的最后阵容，”安吉利娜看着一张羊皮纸说，“去年的击球手德瑞克和波尔走了，但蒙太好像新找了两个普通的大猩猩，而不是飞得特别好的。这两人叫克拉布和高尔，我不大了解他们——　”

    “我们了解。”哈利和罗恩一起说。。　“他们好像连扫帚的头尾都分不清。”安吉利娜收起羊皮纸说，“不过话说回来，我一直奇怪德里克和波尔不靠路标是怎么能找到球场的。”

    “克拉布和高尔也是一路货。”哈利安慰她说。

    -276　？他们听到无数双脚登上看台的声音。有人在唱歌，但哈利听不清歌词。他开始感到紧张，但他知道他的不安与罗恩的相比微不足道。罗恩捂着肚子，目光又呆滞了，表情僵硬，脸色灰白。

    “到时间了，”安吉利娜看看表，小声说，“走吧？？祝我们好运。”

    队员们站了起来，扛起扫帚，列队走出更衣室，来到炫目的阳光下，受到雷鸣般的欢迎，哈利还能听到歌声，尽管被欢呼声和口哨声所掩盖。

    斯莱特林队员已经站在那里，也戴着皇冠状的银徽章。新队长蒙太身材与达力相仿，粗大的前臂像带毛的火腿。他身后是几乎同样粗壮的克拉布和高尔，在阳光下蠢笨地眨着眼睛，挥舞着新发的球棒。马尔福站在旁边，阳光照在他淡金色的头发上闪闪发亮。他捕捉到了哈利的目光，拍拍胸口的银徽章，得意地笑了。

    “双方队长握手，”裁判霍琦夫人喊道，安吉利娜和蒙太走到了一起。哈利看得出蒙太想捏断安吉利娜的手指，但她没有畏缩。“骑上扫帚？？”

    霍琦夫人把哨子塞进嘴里用力一吹。

    开球了，十四名球员腾空而起，哈利用眼角的余光看到罗恩直奔球门的圆环。他急速上升，躲开了一个游走球，开始绕着大圈飞行，四下寻找一点金光。在运动场的另一端，德拉科马尔福也是如此。

    “约翰逊，约翰逊抢到了鬼飞球，多棒的姑娘，我说了好几年了，她还不肯跟我约会——　”

    “乔丹！”麦格教授喊道。

    “开个玩笑，教授，加一点作料——　她躲过了沃林顿，闪过了蒙太，她——　哎哟——　她被身后来的游走球击中了，克拉布打来的？？蒙太抓住了鬼飞球，蒙太带球往回冲——　乔治韦斯莱打出一个漂亮的游走球，奔着蒙太的头部飞去，他丢掉了鬼飞球，被凯蒂贝尔拣起，格兰芬多的凯蒂贝尔反传给艾丽娅斯平内特，斯平内特马上——　”

    李。乔丹的解说在场中回响，哈利竭力聆听，耳边是呼啸的风声和观众的喧嚣——“躲过了沃林顿，避开一个游走球——　好悬哪，艾丽娅——　观众喜欢这个，听昕这声音，他们在唱什么？”

    李停下来听时，歌声响亮地从看台上斯莱特林那一片银绿相间的海洋上扬起：韦斯莱那个小傻样，他一个球也不会挡，斯莱特林人放声唱，韦斯莱是我们的王。

    -277　？韦斯采生在垃圾箱，他总把球往门里放，韦斯莱保我赢这场，韦斯莱是我们的王。

    “——　艾丽娅把球回传给安吉利娜！”李叫道。哈利拨转方向，感到五脏六腑都在翻腾，他知道李努力想把歌声盖过去。“加油，安吉利娜——　看来她只有守门员要对付了！——　射门——　啊？？”

    斯莱特林队守门员布莱奇把球扑住了，他把鬼飞球抛给沃林顿，沃林顿带球疾驰，绕过了艾丽娅和凯蒂。他离罗恩越来越近，下面的歌声也越来越响——韦斯莱是我们的王。

    韦斯莱是我们的王，他总把球往门里放，韦斯莱是我们的王。

    哈利无法控制自己，他顾不上寻找金色飞贼，转身注视着罗恩，球场另一头那个孤单的身影守在三个球门圆环前，魁梧的沃林顿在向他飞驰。

    “——　沃林顿拿到了鬼飞球，沃林顿朝球门冲去，游走球追不上他了，前面只有守门员——　”

    斯莱特林的看台上歌声突然嘹亮起来：韦斯莱那个小傻样，他一个球也不会挡？？“——　现在是对格兰芬多的新守门员韦斯莱的第一个考验，他是击球手弗雷德和乔治的弟弟，球队的后起之秀——　加油，罗恩！”

    但欢呼声从斯莱特林那一方发出：罗恩张着胳膊一扑，鬼飞球从他腋下飞过，径直穿人正中的球门圆环。

    “斯莱特林得分！”李的声音在看台上的观众发出的喝彩声和嘘声中响起。“十比零，斯莱特林领先——　罗恩运气不佳？？”

    斯莱特林的人唱得更响了：韦斯莱生在垃圾箱，他总把球往门里放？？“——　格兰芬多又控制了球，凯蒂贝尔在场上飞驰——　”李英勇地喊道，尽管歌声现已震耳欲聋，他的声音几乎听不见了。

    -278　？韦斯莱保我赢这场，韦斯莱是我们的王？？“哈利，你在干什么？”安吉利娜尖叫着从他身边飞过，去追赶凯蒂，“动起来！”

    哈利发现自己在空中静止了一分多钟，只顾观看比赛战况，想都没想寻找飞贼。他吓了一跳，急忙俯冲，又开始绕球场兜圈子，瞪大眼睛搜寻，努力不去理会现已响彻全场的合唱：韦斯莱是我们的王，韦斯莱是我们的王？？不见飞贼的踪影，马尔福也在和哈利一样兜圈子。他们擦肩而过，哈利听到马尔福高声唱着：韦斯莱生在垃圾箱？？“——　又是沃林顿，”李在高吼，“传给了普塞，普塞越过了斯平内特，安吉利娜加油，你能追上他——　你不能——　但弗雷德韦斯莱打出了一个漂亮的游走球，不，是乔治韦斯莱，咳，管他呢，反正是他们俩中的一个。沃林顿丢掉了鬼飞球，凯蒂贝尔——　呃——　也丢掉了？？现在是蒙太拿到了鬼飞球，斯莱特林的队长蒙太拿到了鬼飞球，正朝前场冲去，格兰芬多加油，拦住他！”

    哈利从新莱特林的球门后面绕过，强迫自己不去看罗恩那头的情况。越过斯莱特林的守门员时，他听到布莱奇和下面的人一起唱着：韦斯莱那个小傻样？？“——　普塞又躲过了艾丽娅，直奔球门而去，扑住它，罗恩！”

    哈利不用看就知道发生了什么：格兰芬多一方发出痛苦的呻吟，斯莱特林队员爆发出的尖叫声和鼓掌声。哈利向下望去，看到脸长得像狮子狗脸的潘西。帕金森背对球场站在看台前，指挥着斯莱特林的啦啦队高唱：斯莱特林人放声唱，韦斯莱是我们的王但二十比零不算什么，格兰芬多还有时间追上或抓住飞贼，只要进几个球，他们又能像以往一样领先了，哈利安慰着自己。他在其他球员间上下穿行，追着一个亮闪闪的东西，原来是蒙太的表带？？可是罗恩又让人进了两个球。哈利寻找飞贼的动机中现在有了惶恐的成分。他只盼着快点找到它，结束这场比赛？？“——　格兰芬多的凯蒂。贝尔带球晃过普塞，又躲开了蒙太，好身法，凯蒂，她-279　？把球传给约翰逊。安吉利娜约翰逊接住了鬼飞球，甩掉了沃林顿，冲向球门，加油安吉利娜——　格兰芬多得分！四十比十，斯莱特林四十比十领先，普塞得到了鬼飞球？？”

    哈利听到卢娜那滑稽的狮子帽在格兰芬多的欢呼声中咆哮，很受鼓舞，只差三十分，没什么，很容易追平。哈利躲开克拉布向他径直射来的一个游走球，继续在场中疯狂搜索金色飞贼，一面留意着马尔福是否发现了它，但马尔福和他一样绕场奔驰，一无所获？？“——　普塞传给沃林顿，沃林顿传给蒙太，蒙太又传给普塞——　约翰逊抢断，约翰逊拿到了鬼飞球，传给贝尔，看上去不错——　不好——　贝尔被斯莱特林队员高尔打出的游走球击中，普塞又拿到了球？？”

    韦斯莱生在垃圾箱，他总把球往门里放，韦斯莱保我赢这场——但哈利终于看到了：小小的、忽闪忽闪的金色飞贼正悬在斯莱特林那端的球场上方几英尺处。

    他俯冲过去？？一刹那间，马尔福从哈利左边冲出，一道银绿相间的光影伏在扫帚上？？飞贼绕过球门圆环的柱脚，向看台另一侧飞去，这一转向对马尔福十分有利，他离得更近。哈利拨转火弩箭，他和马尔福现在并驾齐驱？？离地面几英尺时，哈利右手放开扫帚把，仲向飞贼？？在他右边，马尔福的手臂也伸了出去，抓够着？？在风声呼啸千钧一发的瞬间，一切都结束了——　哈利的手指握住了小小的、挣扎着的金球——　马尔福的指甲绝望地抓向了哈利的手背——　哈利一拨扫帚腾空升起，手里攥着还在挣扎的小球，格兰芬多的支持者高声叫好？？他们得救了，虽然罗恩放进了那么多球，只要格兰芬多获胜，没人会记得——砰！一个游走球正中哈利的后腰，他从扫帚上飞了出去，幸好离地面只有五六英尺。他听到霍琦夫人尖厉的哨声，看台上哗然大乱，混杂着嘘声、嘲笑声和愤怒的叫喊声，嗵的一声，接着是安吉利娜焦急的声音。

    “你没事吧？”

    “当然。？哈利咬牙说，抓住她的手，让她把他拉起来。霍琦夫人向他上方的一个斯莱特林队员冲去，从他的角度看不出是谁。

    “是那个暴徒，克拉布！”安吉利娜气愤地说，“他一看你抓到了飞贼，就把游-280　？走球狠狠地向你打来——　但我们赢了，哈利，我们赢了！”

    哈利听到背后一声冷笑，他转过身去，手里仍紧攥着飞贼：德拉科马尔福降落在旁边，气得脸色发白，但嘴角还带着一丝嘲讽。

    “救了韦斯莱一命，是不是？”他对哈利说，“我从没见过这么臭的守门员？？可他是生在垃圾箱嘛？？你喜欢我的歌词吗，波特？”

    哈利没有回答，走开去迎接他的队友，他们陆续降落，得意洋洋地呐喊欢呼，挥着拳头。只有罗恩除外，他在球门柱那边下了扫帚，一个人慢慢地走回了更衣室。

    “我们还想多写几行歌词！”马尔福嚷道，凯蒂和艾丽娅正在和哈利拥抱，“可是又肥又丑不好押韵——　我们想唱唱他的老妈——　”

    “酸葡萄。”安吉利娜厌恶地瞪了马尔福一眼。

    “——　没用的废物也不好押韵——　他爸爸——　”

    弗雷德和乔治听见了马尔福在说什么。两兄弟正在和哈利握手，他们僵住了，回头看着马尔福。“别理他，”安吉利娜赶忙拉住弗雷德的胳膊说，“别理他，弗雷德，让他喊去，他只是输了球眼红，这个没教养的小——　”

    “——　可你喜欢韦斯莱家，是不是，波特？”马尔福讥笑道，“还在那儿度假，是不是？不知你怎么受得了那股臭味，不过我想你是被麻瓜带大的，韦斯莱家的土窝闻起来就不错了——　”

    哈利抓住了乔治，安吉利娜、艾丽娅和凯蒂三个人才拖住了弗雷德，马尔福放肆地笑着。哈利扭头找霍琦夫人，但她还在斥责克拉布犯规击球。

    “也可能是，”马尔福一边朝后退，一边斜睨着眼睛说，“你记得你妈妈家的臭味，韦斯莱家的猪圈让你想起——　”

    哈利没意识到他松开了乔治，只知道一秒钟后他俩一起扑向了马尔福。他完全忘了所有老师都在观看，他只想让马尔福越痛越好。没时间拔魔杖，他抡起攥着飞贼的拳头，使出浑身力气朝马尔福的肚子上揍去。

    “哈利！哈利！乔治！住手！”

    他听到女孩子的尖叫声、马尔福的惨叫、乔治的诅咒、还有口哨声和周围人的叫嚷，但他不予理会，直到旁边有人断喝：“障碍重重！”一股魔力把他向后撞倒，他才停止了狠揍他够得到的每一寸马尔福的身体？？“你们在干什么？”霍琦夫人喊道，哈利跳了起来。是她用障碍咒击中了他。她一手举着哨子，一手拿着魔杖，她的扫帚躺在几英尺外。马尔福蜷缩在地上呻吟号叫，鼻子流着血。乔治嘴唇肿了，弗雷德还在被三个追球手扭着，克拉布在后面笑。“我从没见过这种行为——　回城堡去，你们两个，直接去院长办公室！快去！”

    -281　？哈利和乔治离开了球场，两人都气喘吁吁，一句话也不说。人群的喧哗渐渐远去，他们走到门厅时，只听见他们自己的脚步声了。哈利发觉他的右手中还有东西在挣扎。他低下头，看到飞贼的银色翅膀从他的指缝间钻出来，想要挣脱出去。他的指关节都被马尔福的下巴磕伤了。

    他们刚到麦格教授办公室的门口，就见她从他们身后走来。她戴着格兰芬多的围巾，但走向他们时，她用颤抖的双手把它从脖子上扯了下来，脸色铁青。

    “进去！”她指着门厉声说。哈利和乔治进去之后，她走到办公桌后面，面向他们，把格兰芬多的围巾扔到地上，气得浑身发抖。

    “真行啊？”她说，“我从没见过这样丢人的表演。两个打一个！你们自己解释吧！”

    “是马尔福挑衅。”哈利僵硬地说。

    “挑衅？”麦格教授吼道，猛地一捶桌子，她的彩格饼干盒滑到地上震开了，生姜蝾螈饼干撇了一地，“他刚输了球，是不是，他当然想挑衅你们！可他究竟能说什么，至于让你们两个——　”　“他侮辱我的父母，”乔治大叫，“还有哈利的母亲。”　“可是你们没有让霍琦夫人来解决，而是决定展示麻瓜的斗殴方式，是吗？”

    麦格教授吼道，“你们知不知道自己——　？”

    “咳，咳。”

    乔治和哈利一齐转过身去，多洛雷斯乌姆里奇站在门口，裹着一件绿花呢斗篷，使她更像一足大癞蛤蟆。她脸上挂着那种令人恶心的、阴森的笑容，哈利已经习惯把它与灾难联系在一起了。

    “需要我帮忙吗，麦格教授？”乌姆里奇用她骨子里最毒的甜腻声音问。

    麦格教授脸上血色上涌。

    “帮忙？”她努力压低声音说，“你是什么意思，　帮忙？”

    乌姆里奇教授走进办公室，依然令人恶心地笑着。

    “哦，我以为你会感激多一点点权威呢。”

    就算看到麦格教授鼻孔里冒出火星，哈利也不会奇怪。

    “你想错了，”她说，没理乌姆里奇，“现在，你们两个听仔细。我不管马尔福如何挑衅，哪怕他侮辱了你们的每个亲属。你们的行为令人厌恶，我罚你们每人关禁闭一星期！别那样看着我，波特，你们活该！如果你们哪一个——　”

    “咳，咳。”

    麦格教授闭上眼睛，似乎在祈求耐心，她再次转向乌姆里奇教授。

    “什么事？”

    “我想他们应该受到比关禁闭更重的惩罚。”乌姆里奇笑得更甜了。

    麦格教授猛地睁开眼睛。“很遗憾，”她说，同时努力报以对等的笑容，使她-282　？看上去像得了牙关紧闭症，“我的意见是算数的，因为他们在我的学院，多洛雷斯。”

    “哦，实际上，米勒娃，”乌姆里奇皮笑肉不笑地说，“我想你会发现我的意见是算数的。咦，放在哪儿了？康奈利刚刚发来的？？我是说，”她假笑一声，在手提包里翻找着，“部长刚刚发来的？？在这儿？？”

    她抽出了一张羊皮纸打开来，做作地清清嗓子开始宣读。

    “咳，咳？？《第二十五号教育令》。”

    “又来一个！”麦格教授激烈地叫道。

    “不错，”乌姆里奇仍面带微笑，“米勒娃，实际上，是你让我看到了我们需要一条新的条令？？记得你推翻过我的意见吗？当时我不同意格兰芬多魁地奇球队重组，你去找邓布利多，他坚持要让球队比赛。我不能容忍这种情况。我马上和魔法部长联系，他也认为高级调查官必须有权剥夺学生的特权，否则她——　也就是我——　连普通教师的权力都不如！现在你看到我不让格兰芬多球队重组是多么正确了吧，米勒娃？可怕的脾气？？好了，我在宣读新法令？？咳，咳？？高级调查官今后对涉及霍格沃茨学生的一切惩罚、制裁和剥夺权利事宜有最高权威，并对其他教员所作出的此类惩罚、制裁和剥夺权利有修改权。

    签名：康奈利福吉，魔法部长，梅林爵士团一级勋章等等，等等？？“

    她卷起羊皮纸放进手提包中，依然面带笑容。

    “所以？？我想我不得不禁止这两人再打魁地奇球。”她的目光在哈利和乔治之间来回移动。

    哈利感到飞贼在他手中疯狂地挣扎。

    “禁止我们？”他的声音遥远得奇怪，“再？？打球？”

    “不错，波特先生，我想终身禁赛比较合适，”乌姆里奇说，看到他艰难地试图理解她的话，她笑得更开心了，“你和韦斯莱先生。我想，为了安全起见，这位小伙子的双胞胎兄弟也应被禁止——　如果他的队友没有拦住他的话，我相信他也会袭击马尔福先生的。我要没收他们的飞天扫帚，把它们安全地保管在我的办公室里，以确保没人违反我的禁令。但我并非不讲情理，麦格教授，”她转身对像冰雕一般瞪着她的麦格教授说，“其他队员可以继续打球，我没看到他们有暴力倾向。好了？？祝你们下午好。”

    乌姆里奇带着极度满足的神气走了出去，留下一片恐怖的沉寂。

    “禁赛，”当天晚上在公共休息室里，安吉利娜声音空洞地说，“禁赛。没有找球手和击球手？？我们还能干什么？”根本感觉不到他们赢了球，哈利到处只看到沮丧和愤怒的面孔。队员们意志消沉地坐在炉边，只有罗恩不在，他自从比赛结束后就没有露面。“真不公平，”艾丽娅麻木地说，“克拉布在哨响后打出游走球怎么算？她禁止他了吗？”“没有，”金妮伤心地说，她和赫敏坐在哈利的两侧，“他只被罚写句子，我听到蒙太吃晚饭时笑着说的。”“弗雷德根本没动手也被禁赛！”艾丽娅捶着膝盖愤恨地说。“没动手不是我的错，”弗雷德的脸色非常难看，“要是你们三个不拦着我，我准把那个小畜生打成肉泥。”

    哈利难受地看着漆黑的窗外，下雪了。他抓到的飞贼在公共休息室里一圈一圈地飞着，人们像被催眠了似的盯着它看。克鲁克山从这把椅子跳到那把椅子，想要抓住它。

    “我去睡觉了，”安吉利娜慢慢站起身，“也许这只是一场噩梦？？也许我早上醒来会发现我们还没有比赛？？”很快艾丽娅和凯蒂也走了。过了一会儿，弗雷德和乔治也怏怏而去，对路过的每一个人都怒目而视。炉边只剩下哈利和赫敏。“你看到罗恩了吗？”赫敏轻声问。哈利摇摇头。

    “我想他在躲着我们，”赫敏说，“你认为他会在——　”　就在这时，他们身后传来嘎吱声，胖夫人向前转开，罗恩从肖像洞口爬了进来。他脸色非常苍白，头上沾着雪花。看到哈利和赫敏，他一下呆住了。“你去哪儿了？”赫敏跳起来急切地问。“散步。”罗恩嘟哝道。他还穿着魁地奇球袍。“你好像冻僵了，”赫敏说，“快过来坐！”罗恩走到炉边，瘫进离哈利最远的一张椅子里，不敢看他。飞贼在他们头顶盘旋。“对不起。”罗恩看着脚尖喃喃地说。“为什么？”哈利问。“因为我以为自己能打魁地奇球。”罗恩说，“我打算明天一早就提出离队。”“如果你离队，全队就只有三个球员了。”哈利没好气地说。见罗恩困惑不解，他说：“我被终身禁赛。还有弗雷德和乔治。”“什么？”罗恩叫起来。赫敏告诉了他事情经过。哈利受不了自己再讲一遍。她讲完后，罗恩显得-284　？更痛苦了。

    “都怪我——　”

    “你又没让我揍马尔福。”哈利恼火地说。

    “——　如果不是我在场上那么没用——　”

    “——　跟这个没关系——　”

    “——　是那首歌让我紧张——　”

    “——　换了谁都会紧张——　”

    赫敏站起来走到窗口，离开了争论，看雪花在窗前飘舞。

    “别这样行不行？”哈利爆发道，“没有你在这儿一味自责就已经够糟了。”

    罗恩没有吭声，难过地看着自己打湿的袍摆。过了一会儿，他闷声闷气地说：“这是我这辈子感觉最糟的一次。”

    “我们是一根绳上的两只蚂蚱。”哈剩痛苦地说。

    “好了，”赫敏说，声音有点发颤。“我想有一件事可能会让你们俩都高兴起来。”

    “是吗？”哈利怀疑地阀。

“嗯。”赫敏从漆黑的、飘着雪花的窗前转过身来，莞尔一笑，“海格回来了。”

The Lion And The Serpent

Harry felt as though he were carrying some kind of talisman inside his chest over the following two weeks, a glowing secret that supported him through Umbridge's classes and even made it possible for him to smile blandly as he looked into her horrible bulging eyes. He and the DA were resisting her under her very nose, doing the very thing she and the Ministry most feared, and whenever he was supposed to be reading Wilbert Slinkhard's book during her lessons he dwelled instead on satisfying memories of their most recent meetings, remembering how Neville had successfully disarmed Hermione, how Colin Creevey had mastered the Impediment Jinx after three meetings’ hard effort, how Parvati Patil had produced such a good Reductor Curse that she had reduced the table carrying all the Sneakoscopes to dust.
He was finding it almost impossible to fix a regular night of the week for the DA meetings, as they had to accommodate three separate: team's Quidditch practices, which were often rearranged due to bad weather conditions; but Harry was not sorry about this; he had a feeling that it was probably better to keep the timing of their meetings unpredictable. If anyone was watching them, it would be hard to make out a pattern.
Hermione soon devised a very clever method of communicating the time and date of the next meeting to all the members in case they needed to change it at short notice, because it would look suspicious if people from different Houses were seen crossing the Great Hall to talk to each other too often. She gave each of the members of the DA a fake Galleon (Ron became very excited when he first saw the basket and was convinced she was actually giving out gold).
‘You see the numerals around the edge of the coins?’ Hermione said, holding one up for examination at the end of their fourth meeting. The coin gleamed fat and yellow in the light from the torches. ‘On real Galleons that's just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On these fake coins, though, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if you're carrying them in a pocket you'll be able to feel them. We take one each, and when Harry sets the date of the next meeting he'll change the numbers on his coin, and because I've put a Protean Charm on them, they'll all change to mimic his.’
A blank silence greeted Hermione's words. She looked around at all the faces upturned to her, rather disconcerted.
‘Well—I thought it was a good idea,’ she said uncertainly, ‘I mean, even if Umbridge asked us to turn out our pockets, there's nothing fishy about carrying a Galleon, is there? But ... well, if you don't want to use them—’
‘You can do a Protean Charm?’ said Terry Boot.
‘Yes,’ said Hermione.
‘But that's ... that's NEWT standard, that is,’ he said weakly.
‘Oh,’ said Hermione, trying to look modest. ‘Oh ... well ... yes, I suppose it is.’
‘How come you're not in Ravenclaw?’ he demanded, staring at Hermione with something close to wonder. ‘With brains like yours?’
‘Well, the Sorting Hat did seriously consider putting me in Ravenclaw during my Sorting,’ said Hermione brightly, ‘but it decided on Gryffindor in the end. So, does that mean we're using the Galleons?’
There was a murmur of assent and everybody moved forwards to collect one from the basket. Harry looked sideways at Hermione.
‘You know what these remind me of?’
‘No, what's that?’
The Death Eaters’ scars. Voldemort touches one of them, and all their scars burn, and they know they've got to join him.’
‘Well ... yes,’ said Hermione quietly, ‘that is where I got the idea ... but you'll notice I decided to engrave the date on bits of metal rather than on our members’ skin.’
‘Yeah ... I prefer your way,’ said Harry, grinning, as he slipped his Galleon into his pocket. ‘I suppose the only danger with these is that we might accidentally spend them.’
‘Fat chance,’ said Ron, who was examining his own fake Galleon with a slightly mournful air, ‘I haven't got any real Galleons to confuse it with.’
As the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, drew nearer, their DA meetings were put on hold because Angelina insisted on almost daily practices. The fact that the Quidditch Cup had not been held for so long added considerably to the interest and excitement surrounding the forthcoming game; the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were taking a lively interest in the outcome, for they, of course, would be playing both teams over the coming year; and the Heads of House of the competing teams, though they attempted to disguise it under a decent pretence of sportsmanship, were determined to see their own side victorious. Harry realised how much Professor McGonagall cared about beating Slytherin when she abstained from giving them homework in the week leading up to the match.
I think you've got enough to be getting on with at the moment,’ she said loftily. Nobody could quite believe their ears until she looked directly at Harry and Ron and said grimly, ‘I've become accustomed to seeing the Quidditch Cup in my study, boys, and I really don't want to have to hand it over to Professor Snape, so use the extra time to practise, won't you?’
Snape was no less obviously partisan; he had booked the Quidditch pitch for Slytherin practice so often that the Gryffindors had difficulty getting on it to play. He was also turning a deaf ear to the many reports of Slytherin attempts to hex Gryffindor players in the corridors. When Alicia Spinnet turned up in the hospital wing with her eyebrows growing so thick and fast they obscured her vision and obstructed her mouth, Snape insisted that she must have attempted a Hair-thickening Charm on herself and refused to listen to the fourteen eye-witnesses who insisted they had seen the Slytherin Keeper, Miles Bletchley, hit her from behind with a jinx while she worked in the library.
Harry felt optimistic about Gryffindors chances; they had, after all, never lost to Malfoy's team. Admittedly, Ron was still not performing to Wood's standard, but he was working extremely hard to improve. His greatest weakness was a tendency to lose confidence after he'd made a blunder; if he let in one goal he became flustered and was therefore likely to miss more. On the other hand, Harry had seen Ron make some truly spectacular saves when he was on form; during one memorable practice he had hung one-handed from his broom and kicked the Quaffle so hard away from the goalhoop that it soared the length of the pitch and through the centre hoop at the other end; the rest of the team felt this save compared favourably with one made recently by Barry Ryan, the Irish International Keeper, against Poland's top Chaser, Ladislaw Zamojski. Even Fred had said that Ron might yet make him and George proud, and that they were seriously considering admitting he was related to them, something they assured him they had been trying to deny for four years.
The only thing really worrying Harry was how much Ron was allowing the tactics of the Slytherin team to upset him before they even got on to the pitch. Harry, of course, had endured their snide comments for over four years, so whispers of, ‘Hey, Potty, I heard Warrington's sworn to knock you off your broom on Saturday', far from chilling his blood, made him laugh. ‘Warrington's aim's so pathetic I'd be more worried if he was aiming for the person next to me,’ he retorted, which made Ron and Hermione laugh and wiped the smirk off Pansy Parkinson's face.
But Ron had never endured a relentless campaign of insults, jeers and intimidation. When Slytherins, some of them seventh-years and considerably larger than he was, muttered as they passed in the corridors, ‘Got your bed booked in the hospital wing, Weasley?’ he didn't laugh, but turned a delicate shade of green. When Draco Malfoy imitated Ron dropping the Quaffle (which he did whenever they came within sight of each other), Ron's ears glowed red and his hands shook so badly that he was likely to drop whatever he was holding at the time, too.
October extinguished itself in a rush of howling winds and driving rain and November arrived, cold as frozen iron, with hard frosts every morning and icy draughts that bit at exposed hands and faces. The skies and the ceiling of the Great Hall turned a pale, pearly grey, the mountains around Hogwarts were snowcapped, and the temperature in the castle dropped so low that many students wore their thick protective dragonskin gloves in the corridors between lessons.
The morning of the match dawned bright and cold. When Harry awoke he looked round at Ron's bed and saw him sitting bolt upright, his arms around his knees, staring fixedly into space.
‘You all right?’ said Harry.
Ron nodded but did not speak. Harry was reminded forcibly of the time Ron had accidentally put a Slug-vomiting Charm on himself; he looked just as pale and sweaty as he had done then, not to mention as reluctant to open his mouth.
‘You just need some breakfast,’ Harry said bracingly. ‘C'mon.’
The Great Hall was filling up fast when they arrived, the talk louder and the mood more exuberant than usual. As they passed the Slytherin table there was an upsurge of noise. Harry looked round and saw that, in addition to the usual green and silver scarves and hats, every one of them was wearing a silver badge in the shape of what seemed to be a crown. For some reason many of them waved at Ron, laughing uproariously. Harry tried to see what was written on the badges as he walked by, but he was too concerned to get Ron past their table quickly to linger long enough to read them.
They received a rousing welcome at the Gryffindor table, where everyone was wearing red and gold, but far from raising Ron's spirits the cheers seemed to sap the last of his morale; he collapsed on to the nearest bench looking as though he were facing his final meal.
‘I must've been mental to do this,’ he said in a croaky whisper. ‘Mental.’
‘Don't be thick,’ said Harry firmly, passing him a choice of cereals, ‘you're going to be fine. It's normal to be nervous.’
‘I'm rubbish,’ croaked Ron. ‘I'm lousy. I can't play to save my life. What was I thinking?’
‘Get a grip,’ said Harry sternly. ‘Look at that save you made with your foot the other day, even Fred and George said it was brilliant.’
Ron turned a tortured face to Harry.
‘That was an accident,’ he whispered miserably. ‘I didn't mean to do it—I slipped off my broom when none of you were looking and when I was trying to get back on I kicked the Quaffle by accident.’
‘Well,’ said Harry, recovering quickly from this unpleasant surprise, ‘a few more accidents like that and the game's in the bag, isn't it?’
Hermione and Ginny sat down opposite them wearing red and gold scarves, gloves and rosettes.
‘How're you feeling?’ Ginny asked Ron, who was now staring into the dregs of milk at the bottom of his empty cereal bowl as though seriously considering attempting to drown himself in them.
‘He's just nervous,’ said Harry.
‘Well, that's a good sign, I never feel you perform as well in exams if you're not a bit nervous,’ said Hermione heartily.
‘Hello,’ said a vague and dreamy voice from behind them. Harry looked up: Luna Lovegood had drifted over from the Ravenclaw table. Many people were staring at her and a few were openly laughing and pointing; she had managed to procure a hat shaped like a life-size lion's head, which was perched precariously on her head.
‘I'm supporting Gryffindor,’ said Luna, pointing unnecessarily at her hat. ‘Look what it does ...’
She reached up and tapped the hat with her wand. It opened its mouth wide and gave an extremely realistic roar that made everyone in the vicinity jump.
‘It's good, isn't it?’ said Luna happily. ‘I wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn't time. Anyway ... good luck, Ronald!’
She drifted away. They had not quite recovered from the shock of Luna's hat before Angelina came hurrying towards them, accompanied by Katie and Alicia, whose eyebrows had mercifully been returned to normal by Madam Pomfrey.
‘When you're ready,’ she said, ‘we're going to go straight down to the pitch, check out conditions and change.’
‘We'll be there in a bit,’ Harry assured her. ‘Ron's just got to have some breakfast.’
It became clear after ten minutes, however, that Ron was not capable of eating anything more and Harry thought it best to get him down to the changing rooms. As they rose from the table, Hermione got up, too, and taking Harry's arm she drew him to one side.
‘Don't let Ron see what's on those Slytherins’ badges,’ she whispered urgently.
Harry looked questioningly at her, but she shook her head warningly; Ron had just ambled over to them, looking lost and desperate.
‘Good luck, Ron,’ said Hermione, standing on tiptoe and kissing him on the cheek. ‘And you, Harry —’
Ron seemed to come to himself slightly as they walked back across the Great Hall. He touched the spot on his face where Hermione had kissed him, looking puzzled, as though he was not quite sure what had just happened. He seemed too distracted to notice much around him, but Harry cast a curious glance at the crown-shaped badges as they passed the Slytherin table, and this time he made out the words etched on to them:
Weasley is our King
With an unpleasant feeling that this could mean nothing good, he hurried Ron across the Entrance Hall, clown the stone steps and out into the icy air.
The frosty grass crunched under their feet as they hurried down the sloping lawns towards the stadium. There was no wind at all and the sky was a uniform pearly white, which meant that visibility would be good without the drawback of direct sunlight in the eyes. Harry pointed out these encouraging factors to Ron as they walked, but he was not sure that Ron was listening.
Angelina had changed already and was talking to the rest of the team when they entered. Harry and Ron pulled on their robes (Ron attempted to do his up back-to-front for several minutes before Alicia took pity on him and went to help), then sat down to listen to the pre-match talk while the babble of voices outside grew steadily louder as the crowd came pouring out of the castle towards the pitch.
‘OK, I've only just found out the final line-up for Slytherin,’ said Angelina, consulting a piece of parchment. ‘Last year's Beaters, Derrick and Bole, have left, but it looks as though Montague's replaced them with the usual gorillas, rather than anyone who can fly particularly well. They're two blokes called Crabbe and Goyle, I don't know much about them—’
‘We do,’ said Harry and Ron together.
‘Well, they don't look bright enough to tell one end of a broom from the other,’ said Angelina, pocketing her parchment, ‘but then I was always surprised Derrick and Bole managed to find their way on to the pitch without signposts.’
‘Crabbe and Goyle are in the same mould,’ Harry assured her.
They could hear hundreds of footsteps mounting the banked benches of the spectators’ stands. Some people were singing, though Harry could not make out the words. He was starting to feel nervous, but he knew his butterflies were as nothing compared to Ron's, who was clutching his stomach and staring straight ahead again, his jaw set and his complexion pale grey.
‘It's time,’ said Angelina in a hushed voice, looking at her watch. ‘C'mon everyone ... good luck.’
The team rose, shouldered their brooms and marched in single file out of the changing room and into the dazzling sunlight, A roar of sound greeted them in which Harry could still hear singing, though it was muffled by the cheers and whistles.
The Slytherin team was standing waiting for them. They, too, were wearing those silver crown-shaped badges. The new Captain, Montague, was built along the same lines as Dudley Dursley with massive forearms like hairy hams. Behind him lurked Crabbe and Goyle, almost as large, blinking stupidly in the sunlight, swinging their new Beaters’ bats. Malfoy stood to one side, the sunlight gleaming on his white-blond head. He caught Harry's eye and smirked, tapping the crown-shaped badge on his chest.
‘Captains, shake hands,’ ordered the referee Madam Hooch, as Angelina and Montague reached each other. Harry could tell that Montague was trying to crush Angelina's fingers, though she did not wince. ‘Mount your brooms ...’
Madam Hooch placed her whistle in her mouth and blew.
The balls were released and the fourteen players shot upwards. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Ron streak off towards the goalhoops. Harry zoomed higher, dodging a Bludger, and set off on a wide lap of the pitch, gazing around for a glint of gold; on the other side of the stadium, Draco Malfoy was doing exactly the same.
‘And it's Johnson —Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me—’
‘JORDAN!’ yelled Professor McGonagall.
‘—just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest—and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague, she's—ouch—been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe ... Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and—nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse-passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away—’
Lee Jordan's commentary rang through the stadium and Harry listened as hard as he could through the wind whistling in his ears and the din of the crowd, all yelling and booing and singing.
‘—dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger—close call, Alicia—and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?’
And as Lee paused to listen, the song rose loud and clear from the sea of green and silver in the Slytherin section of the stands:

‘Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King.

‘Weasley was born in a bin
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley will make sure we win
Weasley is our King.’
’ —a nd Alicia passes back to Angelina!’ Lee shouted, and as Harry swerved, his insides boiling at what he had just heard, he knew Lee was trying to drown out the words of the song. ‘Come on now, Angelina—looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat!—SHE SHOOTS—SHE—aaaah ...’
Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, had saved the goal; he threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it, zig-zagging in between Alicia and Katie; the singing from below grew louder and louder as he drew nearer and nearer Ron.
‘Weasley is our King,
Weasley is our King,
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley is our King. ’
Harry could not help himself: abandoning his search for the Snitch, he wheeled around to watch Ron, a lone figure at the far end of the pitch, hovering before the three goalhoops while the massive Warrington pelted towards him.
‘—and it's Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead—’
A great swell of song rose from the Slytherin stands below:
‘Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring ...’

‘— so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper Weasley, brother of Beaters Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team—come on, Ron!’
But the scream of delight came from the Slytherins’ end: Ron had dived wildly, his arms wide, and the Quaffle had soared between them straight through Ron's central hoop.
‘Slytherin score!’ came Lee's voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below, ‘so that's ten-nil to Slytherin—bad luck, Ron.’
The Slytherins sang even louder:
‘WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN... ’
‘—and Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell tanking up the pitch—’ cried Lee valiantly, though the singing was now so deafening that he could hardly make himself heard above it.
‘WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN
WEASLEY IS OUR KING ...’

‘Harry, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?’ screamed Angelina, soaring past him to keep up with Katie. ‘GET GOING!’
Harry realised he had been stationary in midair for over a minute, watching the progress of the match without sparing a thought for the whereabouts of the Snitch; horrified, he went into a dive and started circling the pitch again, staring around, trying to ignore the chorus now thundering through the stadium:
‘WEASLEY IS OUR KING,
WEASLEY IS OUR KING ... ’
There was no sign of the Snitch anywhere he looked; Malfoy was still circling the stadium just as he was. They passed one another midway around the pitch, going in opposite directions, and Harry heard Malfoy singing loudly:
‘WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN ...’

‘—and it's Warrington again,’ bellowed Lee, ‘who passes to Pucey, Pucey's off past Spinnet, come on now, Angelina, you can take him - turns out you can't—but nice Bludger from Fred Weasley I mean, George Weasley, oh, who cares, one of them, anyway, and Warrington drops the Quaffle and Katie Bell—er—drops it, too—so that's Montague with the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Montague takes the Quaffle and he's off up the pitch, come on now, Gryffindor, block him!’
Harry zoomed around the end of the stadium behind the Slytherin goalhoops, willing himself not to look at what was going on at Ron's end. As he sped past the Slytherin Keeper, he heard Bletchley singing along with the crowd below:
‘WEASLEY CANNOT SAVE A THING ...’
‘—and Pucey's dodged Alicia again and he's heading straight for goal, stop it, Ron!’
Harry did not have to look to see what had happened: there was a terrible groan from the Gryffindor end, coupled with fresh screams and applause from the Slytherins. Looking down, Harry saw the pug-faced Pansy Parkinson right at the front of the stands, her back to the pitch as she conducted the Slytherin supporters who were roaring:
‘THAT'S WHY SLYTHERINS ALL SING
WEASLEY IS OUR KING.’
But twenty-nil was nothing, there was still time for Gryffindor to catch up or catch the Snitch. A few goals and they would be in the lead as usual, Harry assured himself, bobbing and weaving through the other players in pursuit of something shiny that turned out to be Montague's watchstrap.
But Ron let in two more goals. There was an edge of panic in Harry's desire to find the Snitch now. If he could just get it soon and finish the game quickly.
‘—and Katie Bell of Gryffindor dodges Pucey, ducks Montague, nice swerve, Katie, and she throws to Johnson, Angelina Johnson takes the Quaffle, she's past Warrington, she's heading for goal, come on now, Angelina—GRYFFINDOR SCORE! It's forty-ten, forty-ten to Slytherin and Pucey has the Quaffle ...’
Harry could hear Luna's ludicrous lion hat roaring amidst the Gryffindor cheers and felt heartened; only thirty points in it, that was nothing, they could pull back easily. Harry ducked a Bludger that Crabbe had sent rocketing in his direction and resumed his frantic scouring of the pitch for the Snitch, keeping one eye on Malfoy in case he showed signs of having spotted it, but Malfoy, like him, was continuing to soar around the stadium, searching fruitlessly ...
‘—Pucey throws to Warrington, Warrington to Montague, Montague back to Pucey—Johnson intervenes, Johnson takes the Quaffle, Johnson to Bell, this looks good—I mean bad—Bell's hit by a Bludger from Goyle of Slytherin and it's Pucey in possession again ...’
‘WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN
WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN ... ’
But Harry had seen it at last: the tiny fluttering Golden Snitch was hovering feet from the ground at the Slytherin end of the pitch.
He dived ...
In a matter of seconds, Malfoy was streaking out of the sky on Harry's left, a green and silver blur lying flat on his broom ...
The Snitch skirted the foot of one of the goalhoops and scooted off towards the other side of the stands; its change of direction suited Malfoy, who was nearer; Harry pulled his Firebolt around, he and Malfoy were now neck and neck ...
Feet from the ground, Harry lifted his right hand from his broom, stretching towards the Snitch ... to his right, Malfoy's arm extended too, was reaching, groping ...
It was over in two breathless, desperate, windswept seconds—Harry's fingers closed around the tiny, struggling ball—Malfoy's fingernails scrabbled the back of Harry's hand hopelessly—Harry pulled his broom upwards, holding the struggling ball in his hand and the Gryffindor spectators screamed their approval ...
They were saved, it did not matter that Ron had let in those goals, nobody would remember as long as Gryffindor had won—
WHAM.
A Bludger hit Harry squarely in the small of the back and he flew forwards off his broom. Luckily he was only five or six feet above the ground, having dived so low to catch the Snitch, but he was winded all the same as he landed flat on his back on the frozen pitch. He heard Madam Hooch's shrill whistle, an uproar in the stands compounded of catcalls, angry yells and jeering, a thud, then Angelina's frantic voice.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Course I am,’ said Harry grimly, taking her hand and allowing her to pull him to his feet. Madam Hooch was zooming towards one of the Slytherin players above him, though he could not see who it was from this angle.
‘It was that thug Crabbe,’ said Angelina angrily, ‘he whacked the Bludger at you the moment he saw you'd got the Snitch—but we won, Harry, we won!’
Harry heard a snort from behind him and turned around, still holding the Snitch tightly in his hand: Draco Malfoy had landed close by. White-faced with fury, he was still managing to sneer.
‘Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you?’ he said to Harry. ‘I've never seen a worse Keeper ... but then he was born in a bin ... did you like my lyrics, Potter?’
Harry didn't answer. He turned away to meet the rest of the team who were now landing one by one, yelling and punching the air in triumph; all except Ron, who had dismounted from his broom over by the goalposts and seemed to be making his way slowly back to the changing rooms alone.
‘We wanted to write another couple of verses!’ Malfoy called, as Katie and Alicia hugged Harry. ‘But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly—we wanted to sing about his mother, see—’
‘Talk about sour grapes,’ said Angelina, casting Malfoy a disgusted look.
‘—we couldn't fit in useless loser either—for his father, you know—’
Fred and George had realised what Malfoy was talking about. Halfway through shaking Harry's hand, they stiffened, looking round at Malfoy.
‘Leave it!’ said Angelina at once, taking Fred by the arm. ‘Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just sore he lost, the jumped-up little—
‘—but you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter?’ said Malfoy, sneering. ‘Spend holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles, even the Weasleys’ hovel smells OK—’
Harry grabbed hold of George. Meanwhile, it was taking the combined efforts of Angelina, Alicia and Katie to stop Fred leaping on Malfoy, who was laughing openly. Harry looked around for Madam Hooch, but she was still berating Crabbe for his illegal Bludger attack.
‘Or perhaps,’ said Malfoy, leering as he backed away, ‘you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it—’
Harry was not aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting towards Malfoy. He had completely forgotten that all the teachers were watching: all he wanted to do was cause Malfoy as much pain as possible; with no time to draw out his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Malfoy's stomach—
‘Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO!’
He could hear girls’ voices screaming, Malfoy yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing and the bellowing of the crowd around him, but he did not care. Not until somebody in the vicinity yelled ‘Impedimenta!’ and he was knocked over backwards by the force of the spell, did he abandon the attempt to punch every inch of Malfoy he could reach.
‘What do you think you're doing?’ screamed Madam Hooch, as Harry leapt to his feet. It seemed to have been her who had hit him with the Impediment Jinx; she was holding her whistle in one hand and a wand in the other; her broom lay abandoned several feet away. Malfoy was curled up on the ground, whimpering and moaning, his nose bloody; George was sporting a swollen lip; Fred was still being forcibly restrained by the three Chasers, and Crabbe was cackling in the background. ‘I've never seen behaviour like it—back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! Now.’
Harry and George turned on their heels and marched off the pitch, both panting, neither saying a word to the other. The howling and jeering of the crowd grew fainter and fainter until they reached the Entrance Hall, where they could hear nothing except the sound of their own footsteps. Harry became aware that something was still struggling in his right hand, the knuckles of which he had bruised against Malfoy's jaw. Looking down, he saw the Snitch's silver wings protruding from between his fingers, struggling for release.
They had barely reached the door of Professor McGonagalls office when she came marching along the corridor behind them. She was wearing a Gryffindor scarf, but tore it from her throat with shaking hands as she strode towards them, looking livid.
‘In!’ she said furiously, pointing to the door. Harry and George entered. She strode around behind her desk and faced them, quivering with rage as she threw the Gryffindor scarf aside on to the floor.
‘Well?’ she said. ‘I have never seen such a disgraceful exhibition. Two on one! Explain yourselves!’
‘Malfoy provoked us,’ said Harry stiffly.
‘Provoked you?’ shouted Professor McGonagall, slamming a fist on to her desk so that her tartan tin slid sideways off it and burst open, littering the floor with Ginger Newts. ‘He'd just lost, hadn't he? Of course he wanted to provoke you! But what on earth he can have said that justified what you two—’
‘He insulted my parents,’ snarled George. ‘And Harry's mother.’
‘But instead of leaving it to Madam Hooch to sort out, you two decided to give an exhibition of Muggle duelling, did you?’ bellowed Professor McGonagall. ‘Have you any idea what you've—?’
‘Hem, hem.’
Harry and George both wheeled round. Dolores Umbridge was standing in the doorway wrapped in a green tweed cloak that greatly enhanced her resemblance to a giant toad, and was smiling in the horrible, sickly, ominous way that Harry had come to associate with imminent misery.
‘May I help, Professor McGonagall?’ asked Professor Umbridge in her most poisonously sweet voice.
Blood rushed into Professor McGonagall's face.
‘Help?’ she repeated, in a constricted voice. ‘What do you mean, help?’
Professor Umbridge moved forwards into the office, still smiling her sickly smile.
‘Why, I thought you might be grateful for a little extra authority.’
Harry would not have been surprised to see sparks fly from Professor McGonagall's nostrils.
‘You thought wrong,’ she said, turning her back on Umbridge.
‘Now, you two had better listen closely. I do not care what provocation Malfoy offered you, I do not care if he insulted every family member you possess, your behaviour was disgusting and I am giving each of you a week's worth of detentions! Do not look at me like that, Potter, you deserve it! And if either of you ever—’
‘Hem, hem.’
Professor McGonagall closed her eyes as though praying for patience as she turned her face towards Professor Umbridge again.
‘Yes?’
‘I think they deserve rather more than detentions,’ said Umbridge, smiling still more broadly.
Professor McGonagall's eyes flew open.
‘But unfortunately,’ she said, with an attempt at a reciprocal smile that made her look as though she had lockjaw, ‘it is what I think that counts, as they are in my House, Dolores.’
‘Well, actually, Minerva,’ simpered Professor Umbridge, ‘I think you'll find that what I think does count. Now, where is it? Cornelius just sent it ... I mean,’ she gave a false little laugh as she rummaged in her handbag, ‘the Minister just sent it ... ah yes ...’
She had pulled out a piece of parchment which she now unfurled, clearing her throat fussily before starting to read what it said.
‘Hem, hem ...“Educational Decree Number Twenty-five".’
‘Not another one!’ exclaimed Professor McGonagall violently.
‘Well, yes,’ said Umbridge, still smiling. ‘As a matter of fact, Minerva, it was you who made me see that we needed a further amendment ... you remember how you overrode me, when I was unwilling to allow the Gryffindor Quidditch team to re-form? How you took the case to Dumbledore, who insisted that the team be allowed to play? Well, now, I couldn't have that. I contacted the Minister at once, and he quite agreed with me that the High Inquisitor has to have the power to strip pupils of privileges, or she—that is to say, I—would have less authority than common teachers! And you see now, don't you, Minerva, how right I was in attempting to stop the Gryffindor team re-forming? Dreadful tempers ... anyway, I was reading out our amendment ... hem, hem ...“the High Inquisitor will henceforth have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions and removal of privileges pertaining to the students of Hogwarts, and the power to alter such punishments, sanctions and removals of privileges as may have been ordered by other staff members. Signed, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, Order of Merlin First Class, etc., etc.” ’
She rolled up the parchment and put it back into her handbag still smiling.
‘So ... I really think I will have to ban these two from playing Quidditch ever again,’ she said, looking from Harry to George and back again.
Harry felt the Snitch fluttering madly in his hand.
‘Ban us?’ he said, and his voice sounded strangely distant. ‘From playing ... ever again?’
‘Yes, Mr. Potter, I think a lifelong ban ought to do the trick,’ said Umbridge, her smile widening still further as she watched him struggle to comprehend what she had said. ‘You and Mr. Weasley here. And I think, to be safe, this young man's twin ought to be stopped, too—if his teammates had not restrained him, I feel sure he would have attacked young Mr. Malfoy as well. I will want their broomsticks confiscated, of course; I shall keep them safely in my office, to make sure there is no infringement of my ban. But I am not unreasonable, Professor McGonagall,’ she continued, turning back to Professor McGonagall who was now standing as still as though carved from ice, staring at her. ‘The rest of the team can continue playing, I saw no signs of violence from any of them. Well ... good afternoon to you.’
And with a look of the utmost satisfaction, Umbridge left the room, leaving a horrified silence in her wake.
‘Banned,’ said Angelina in a hollow voice, late that evening in the common room. ‘Banned.No Seeker and no Beaters ... what on earth are we going to do?’
It did not feel as though they had won the match at all. Everywhere Harry looked there were disconsolate and angry faces; the team themselves were slumped around the fire, all apart from Ron, who had not been seen since the end of the match.
‘It's just so unfair,’ said Alicia numbly. ‘I mean, what about Crabbe and that Bludger he hit after the whistle had been blown? Has she banned him?’
‘No,’ said Ginny miserably; she and Hermione were sitting on either side of Harry. ‘He just got lines, I heard Montague laughing about it at dinner.’
‘And banning Fred when he didn't even do anything!’ said Alicia furiously, pummelling her knee with her fist.
‘It's not my fault I didn't,’ said Fred, with a very ugly look on his face, ‘I would've pounded the little scumbag to a pulp if you three hadn't been holding me back.’
Harry stared miserably at the dark window. Snow was falling. The Snitch he had caught earlier was now zooming around and around the common room; people were watching its progress as though hypnotised and Crookshanks was leaping from chair to chair, trying to catch it.
‘I'm going to bed,’ said Angelina, getting slowly to her feet. ‘Maybe this will all turn out to have been a bad dream ... maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and find we haven't played yet ...’
She was soon followed by Alicia and Katie. Fred and George sloped off to bed some time later, glowering at everyone they passed, and Ginny went not long after that. Only Harry and Hermione were left beside the fire.
‘Have you seen Ron?’ Hermione asked in a low voice.
Harry shook his head.
‘I think he's avoiding us,’ said Hermione. ‘Where do you think he—?’
But at that precise moment, there was a creaking sound behind them as the Fat Lady swung forwards and Ron came clambering through the portrait hole. He was very pale indeed and there was snow in his hair. When he saw Harry and Hermione, he stopped dead in his tracks.
‘Where have you been?’ said Hermione anxiously, springing up.
‘Walking,’ Ron mumbled. He was still wearing his Quidditch things.
‘You look frozen,’ said Hermione. ‘Come and sit down!’
Ron walked to the fireside and sank into the chair furthest from Harry's, not looking at him. The stolen Snitch zoomed over their heads.
‘I'm sorry,’ Ron mumbled, looking at his feet.
‘What for?’ said Harry.
‘For thinking I can play Quidditch,’ said Ron. ‘I'm going to resign first thing tomorrow.’
‘If you resign,’ said Harry testily, ‘there'll only be three players left on the team.’ And when Ron looked puzzled, he said, ‘I've been given a lifetime ban. So've Fred and George.’
‘What?’ Ron yelped.
Hermione told him the full story; Harry could not bear to tell it again. When she had finished, Ron looked more anguished than ever.
‘This is all my fault—’
‘You didn't make me punch Malfoy,’ said Harry angrily.
‘— if I wasn't so terrible at Quidditch—’
‘—it's got nothing to do with that.’
‘—it was that song that wound me up—’
‘—it would've wound anyone up.’
Hermione got up and walked to the window, away from the argument, watching the snow swirling down against the pane.
‘Look, drop it, will you!’ Harry burst out. ‘It's bad enough, without you blaming yourself for everything!’
Ron said nothing but sat gazing miserably at the damp hem of his robes. After a while he said in a dull voice, ‘This is the worst I've ever felt in my life.’
‘Join the club,’ said Harry bitterly.
‘Well,’ said Hermione, her voice trembling slightly. ‘I can think of one thing that might cheer you both up.’
‘Oh yeah?’ said Harry sceptically.
‘Yeah,’ said Hermione, turning away from the pitch-black, snow-flecked window, a broad smile spreading across her face. ‘Hagrid's back.’

邓布利多军

    “乌姆里奇看了你的信，哈利，没有别的解释。”

    “你认为乌姆里奇抓了海德薇？”他愤怒地问。

    “我几乎可以肯定，”赫敏神情严峻地说，“注意你的青蛙，它要跑了。”

    哈利用魔杖指着满怀希望地朝桌子另一头蹦去的大青蛙——　“青蛙飞来！”——　青蛙沮丧地落回他手里。

    魔咒课永远是最适合讲话的课：教室里一般都很热闹，被别人听见的可能性很小。今天，屋里满是呱呱叫的青蛙和呱呱叫的乌鸦，外面倾盆大雨敲打着窗户，哈利、罗恩和赫敏的窃窃私语根本没人听见，他们议论着乌姆里奇怎么会差点抓到了小天狼星。

    “自从费尔奇说你订了大粪蛋，我就一直有这种怀疑，因为那显然是个愚蠢的谎话。”赫敏小声说，“我是说看了你的信，就会很清楚你没订，所以你不应该有麻烦——　一个无聊的玩笑，不是吗？可后来我想，要是有人就想找借口看你的信-258　？呢？那样，对乌姆里奇可是个好办法——　告诉费尔奇，让他做恶人没收那封信，然后从他那儿偷去，或要求看信——　我不认为费尔奇会拒绝，他什么时候维护过学生的权利？哈利，你要把你的青蛙捏死了。”

    哈利低头一看，青蛙被他攥得太紧，眼睛都突出来了，他忙把它放到桌上。

    “昨晚可真够险的。”赫敏说，“我在想乌姆里奇知不知道她只是差一点儿。无声无息！”

    她用来练无声无息咒的青蛙叫到一半突然哑了，责备地看着她。

    “如果她抓到了伤风——　”

    哈里接着替她把话讲完了。

    “——　他今早可能就回到阿兹卡班了。”哈利心不在焉地挥挥魔杖，他的青蛙鼓成了一个绿气球，发出一声尖叫。

    “无声无息！”赫敏急忙用魔杖指着哈利的青蛙说，它无声地瘪了下来，“反正，他不能再这么来了。可是我不知道怎么告诉他。不能让猫头鹰送信。”

    “我想他不会再冒险了。”罗恩说，“他又不笨，他知道自己差点被她抓到了。无声无息！”

    他面前那只丑陋的大乌鸦嘲笑地呱呱大叫。

    “无声无息！无声无息！”

    乌鸦叫得更响了。

    “你的魔杖动得不对，”赫敏用批评的眼光看着罗恩，“不要挥舞，应该迅速一刺。”

    “乌鸦比青蛙难。”罗恩咬着牙说。

    “好，我们交换。”赫敏抓过罗恩的乌鸦换掉了她那只肥青蛙。“无声无息！”

    乌鸦的尖嘴还在一张一合，但没有了声音。“很好，格兰杰小姐！”弗立维教授尖细的嗓门说，三人吓了一跳，“现在我来看你练习，韦斯莱先生！”“什——　？噢——　噢，好的，”罗恩慌张地说，“呃——　无声无息！”他刺得用力过猛，戳到了青蛙的眼睛，青蛙发出一声震耳欲聋的大叫，从桌上蹦了下去。

    结果不出他们所料，哈利和罗恩的家庭作业中多加了无声无息咒练习。

    因为下雨，课问休息可以留在室内。他们在二楼一间闹哄哄的教室里找了个座位，皮皮鬼在吊灯旁梦幻般地往上飘，时而朝某人头顶上吹一滴墨珠。他们刚坐下，安吉利娜就从一堆堆聊天的学生中挤了过来。

    “我得到批准了！”她说，“重组魁地奇球队！”

    “太棒了！”罗恩和哈利一齐说。

    “是啊，”安吉利娜满面春风地说，“我找了麦格教授，我想她可能去求邓布利-259　？多了——　总之，乌姆里奇只好让步。哈！所以我请你们今晚七点到球场，行吗，我们得补时间。你们意识到离第一场比赛只有三星期了吗？”　她从他们身边挤了过去，勉强躲过了皮皮鬼吹出的墨珠，墨珠落到了旁边一个一年级新生的身上。罗恩看看窗外，笑容在慢慢地消失，窗玻璃被大雨打得一片模糊。“但愿天会放晴？？你怎么了，赫敏？”

    她也望着窗户，但好像对一切视而不见。她目光茫然，眉头微锁。“我在想？？”她依然皱眉望着雨打的窗户。“想小天——　‘伤风’？”哈利问。“不？？不完全是？？”赫敏慢吞吞地说，“我是想？？我们是在做正确的事？？是吗？”哈利和罗恩对视了一下。

    “哦，理理清楚，”罗恩说，“你要是摆不平自己可真让人心烦。”　赫敏看着他，好像刚刚发现他在那儿似的。“我只是在想，”她的声音有力了一点，“我们做得是不是正确，组织黑魔法防御小组。”“什么？”哈利和罗恩齐声说。“赫敏，一开始可是你的主意！”罗恩抱怨道。

    “我知道，”赫敏绞着手说，“但是跟伤风谈过之后？？”“可他很赞成！”哈利说。“对，”赫敏又望着窗户说，“对，正是这样我才觉得也许不是个好主意？？”皮皮鬼飘到他们头上，豆子熗瞄准着他们，三人赶紧举起书包挡着脑袋，直到他过去。“有话直说吧，”他们把书包放回地上时，哈利恼火地说，“小天狼星支持我们，结果你倒觉得我们不应该干下去了？”

    赫敏显得紧张而难过。她看着自己的手说：“你真相信他的判断吗？”“我相信！”哈利马上说，“他总给我们出好点子！”一滴墨珠从他们身旁飞过，正中凯蒂贝尔的耳朵。赫敏看着凯蒂跳起来朝皮皮鬼扔东西。过了好一会儿赫敏才开口，她好像在斟词酌句。“你不觉得他自从被困在格里莫广场之后，变得？？有点？？鲁莽了吗？你不觉得他？？好像在？？通过我们生活吗？”“你说什么，‘通过我们生活’？”哈利质问道。“我是说？？嗯，我想他乐于在部里派来的人眼皮底下搞一个秘密的防御小组？？他待在那个地方啥也干不了，一定憋得慌？？所以我想他会积极地？？怂恿我们。”

    -260　？罗恩看上去完全被搞糊涂了。“小天狼星说得对，”他说，“你说话真像我妈妈。”　赫敏咬着嘴唇没有搭腔。上课铃响了，皮皮鬼向凯蒂俯冲过去，把一瓶墨水全倒在了她头上。

    天气并未好转，晚上七点钟哈利和罗恩去魁地奇球场训练时，几分钟就被淋得透湿，脚在湿漉漉的草地上打滑。天空灰沉沉的，雷声阵阵。进到温暖明亮的更衣室里真是舒了口气，尽管他们知道这轻松只是短暂的。他们发现弗雷德和乔治正在讨论要不要用速效逃课糖来躲避飞行。

    “？？可是我打赌她会知道，”弗雷德咧嘴说，“我昨天要是没向她兜售吐吐糖就好了。”

    “我们可以用发烧糖，”乔治悄声说，“没人看到过——　”

    “灵吗？”罗恩满怀希望地问，屋顶上雨敲得更响了，狂风绕着屋子呼啸。

    “还行，”弗雷德说，“你的体温会一下子升上去——　”

    “但也会长一些大脓包，”乔治说，“我们还没想出消除它们的办法。”

    “我看不到脓包啊。”罗恩打量着这对双胞胎兄弟。

    “你是看不到，”弗雷德阴沉地说，“它们不长在我们通常对外展露的部位。”

    “可是它们会使坐在扫帚上真正像——　”

    “好了，大家听我说，”安吉利娜从队长办公室走出来大声说，“我知道天气不理想，但我们很可能在这种条件下跟斯莱特林队比赛，所以我们最好练练怎么对付。哈利，我们在那场暴雨中对赫奇帕奇的比赛，你不是用了点法子就使雨水蒙不住眼镜了吗？”

    “是赫敏做的。”哈利说，他抽出魔杖，敲了敲眼镜说，“防水防湿！”

    “我想我们都应该试一试，”安吉利娜说，“只要不让雨打到脸上，视线就清楚多了——　大家一起来——　防水防湿！好，我们走吧。”

    他们都把魔杖收进袍子里面的口袋里，扛起扫帚，跟着安吉利娜出了更衣室。

    一行人踏着越来越厚的泥泞走到球场中央，虽然有防水咒，但能见度还是很低，光线迅速减弱，雨帘狂扫场地。

    “好，听我口哨。”安吉利娜喊道。

    哈利双脚一蹬腾空而起，泥水四溅，风吹得他有一点偏斜，他不知道在这种天气怎么能看到飞贼，光是看他们击打的游走球就够费劲的了。开场一分钟它就差点把他撞下了扫帚，他不得不用树懒抱树滚来躲避。可惜安吉利娜没看到，事实上，她好像什么都看不见，他们都不知道别人在干什么。风越来越猛，哈利甚至能昕到远处雨水敲打湖面的噼啪声。

    -261　？安吉利娜让他们练了近一小时才作罢。她把落汤鸡一般、发着牢骚的队员带回更衣室，坚持说这次训练不是浪费时问，尽管她的语调中也没有什么底气。弗雷德和乔治特别窝火，两人都变成了罗圈腿，每走一步都龇牙咧嘴。哈利用毛巾擦头时听到他们在小声抱怨。

    “我的有几个可能破了。”弗雷德声音沉闷地说。

    “我的还没有，”乔治从牙缝里说，“胀得厉害？？好像又大了？？”

    “哎哟！”哈利叫了一声。

    他用毛巾捂住脸，疼得双眼紧闭。他前额的伤疤又灼痛起来，好几个月没这么痛了。

    “怎么了？”几个声音同时问道。

    哈利拿开毛巾，更衣室模糊一片，因为他没戴眼镜，但他能感觉到大家的脸都朝着他。“没什么，”他咕哝道，“　我——　不小心碰到眼睛了，没事。”　但他对罗恩使了个眼色，当队员们裹上斗篷、拉低了帽檐、鱼贯出去时，他们俩留了下来。

    “怎么回事？”艾丽娅一从门口消失，罗恩就问，“是你的伤疤吗？”

    哈利点点头。

    “可是？？”罗恩惊疑地走到窗前，朝雨中看了看，“他——　他现在不可能离我们很近，是不是？”

    “是，”哈利低声说，一屁股坐到凳子上，揉着额头，“他也许在于里之外。我疼是因为？？他？？发怒了。”

    哈利根本没想这么说，这话在他听来像是出自一个陌生人之口——　但他马上意识到这是真情。他也不知道这意识从何而来，但他的确知道，伏地魔，无论在哪里或在做什么，那魔头都正在大发脾气。

    “你看到他了吗？”罗恩恐惧地说，“你？？是不是看到了幻象？”

    哈利静静地坐着，盯着自己的脚，让思想与记忆在余痛之中放松？？纷乱的影像，喧嚣的声音？？“他想办一件事，但办得不够快。”

    他又一次惊奇地听到自己说出这句话，但很清楚它是真情。

    “可是？？你怎么知道的？”罗恩问。

    哈利摇摇头，用手紧紧地按住眼睛，眼前进出无数的星星。他感到罗恩在他身边坐了下来，知道罗恩在盯着他。“上次是这样吗？”罗恩屏着气问，“在乌姆里奇办公室里你伤疤疼的那次，神秘人也是在发怒吗？”哈利摇摇头。

    -262　？“那次是什么？”

    哈利回忆着。他在看乌姆里奇的脸？？伤疤痛起来？？他腹部有一种异样的感觉？？一种奇怪的、跳跃的感觉？？高兴的感觉？？当然，他当时没有分辨出来，因为他自己是那么痛苦？？“上次是因为他很高兴，真的高兴。他想到？？有件好事要发生。我们回霍格沃茨前的那一夜？？”他回忆起在格里莫广场他和罗恩的卧室里，伤疤疼得特别厉害的那次，“他在大发雷霆？？”

    他转过头，见罗恩目瞪口呆地盯着他。

    “你可以代替特里劳妮了，哥们儿。”罗恩钦佩地说。

    “我没有预言。”哈利说。

    “不，你知道你在做什么吗？”罗恩的语气中充满敬畏，“哈利，你在读神秘人的思想！”

    “不，”哈利摇头道，“我想只是他的情绪。我有一些闪电般的感觉？？邓布利多去年说过会发生这种情况？？他说当伏地魔靠近我、或当他感到仇恨时，我就会有感应。现在他高兴时我也有感应了？？”

    片刻的沉默，风雨抽打着房屋。

    “你得告诉什么人。”罗恩说。

    “我上次告诉小天狼星了。”

    “那好，这次也告诉他！”

    “不行吧？”哈利沉重地说，“乌姆里奇在监视猫头鹰和炉火，你忘了吗？”

    “那就邓布利多——　”

    “我告诉过你，他知道了。”哈利站起来，从挂钩上摘下他的斗篷披到身上，“再告诉他没有意义。”

    罗恩系上斗篷，若有所思地望着哈利。

    “邓布利多会想知道的。”他说。

    哈利耸耸肩。

    “走吧，我们还要练无声无息咒呢？？”

    他们匆匆穿过黑暗的场地，在泥泞的草坪上一步一滑地前进，谁也没有说话。哈利在努力思考。伏地魔想办而办得不够快的是什么事呢？“？？他还有其他计划？？可以神不知鬼不觉地实施的计划？？某种只有偷偷摸摸才能得到的东西？？比如一件武器。他上次所没有的东西。”

    他几星期来都没有琢磨过这些话，一心只关注着霍格沃茨的情况，与乌姆里奇的斗争，魔法部的不公正干预？？但现在这些毋又回到他脑子里，引起了他的思考？？如果是因为迟迟搞不到那件武器——　不管它是什么，伏地魔的怒气就可以解释了。是不是凤凰社阻挠了他？它藏在哪儿？目前在谁的手里？-263　？“米布米宝。”罗恩的声音说，哈利回过神来，刚刚来得及从肖像洞口钻进公共休息室。

    赫敏好像早就睡了，克鲁克山蜷在椅子里，织出的各种花式的小精灵帽留在炉旁的桌子上。哈利有些庆幸她不在，他不太想讨论伤疤疼的事，她也会催他去找邓布利多。罗恩老是担心地看着他，但哈利抽出魔药学课本，开始写他的论文，尽管只是假装集中思想。到罗恩也去睡觉时，他还没写多少。

    夜阑人静，哈利反复读着一段关于坏血草、独活草和喷嚏草用途的文字，却一点也没读进去。这些植物最易造成脑炎，多用于迷乱药中，致人急躁鲁莽？？？？赫敏说小天狼星被困在格里莫广场后变得鲁莽？？？？最易造成脑炎，多用于？？？？如果发现他能知道伏地魔的感觉，《预言家日报》会认为他得了脑炎？？？？多用于迷乱药中？？？？迷乱这个词很恰当，他为什么能知道伏地魔的感觉？他们之间这种奇怪的联系是什么？邓布利多一直没有作出令人满意的解释。

    ？？致人？？他真想睡觉？？？？急躁鲁莽？？？？壁炉前的扶手椅温暖舒适，雨还在敲着窗户，克鲁克山呜呜地叫着，炉火噼啪作响？？课本从哈利手中滑落，掉在地毯上，他的脑袋歪到了一边？？他又走在一条没有窗户的走廊里，脚步声在寂静中回响。走廊尽头那扇门越来越近，他的心跳加快？？要是能够推开它？？走进去？？他伸出手？？手指离它只有几英寸了？？“哈利波特，先生！”

    他惊醒过来。公共休息室的蜡烛都已熄灭，但近旁有个东西在动。

    “　谁？”哈利坐直了身体，炉火几乎燃尽，　屋里很暗。

    “多比把您的猫头鹰带来了，先生！”一个尖细的声音说。

    “多比？”哈利麻木地应了一声，在黑暗中朝声音的方向望去。

    家养小精灵多比站在赫敏留下织小花帽的桌边，他那对尖尖的大耳朵中间像是戴着赫敏织过的所有帽子，一顶压一顶，使他的脑袋似乎长了两三英尺，最顶上蹲着海德薇，平静地叫着，显然已经痊愈。

    “多比自告奋勇来送回哈利波特的猫头鹰！”小精灵尖声尖气地说，脸上充满热情，“格拉普兰教授说它已经好了，先生！”

    -264　？他深鞠一躬，铅笔尖般的鼻子擦到了破旧的地毯，海德薇不满地叫了一声，飞到哈利的椅子扶手上。

    “谢谢，多比！”哈利抚摸着海德薇的脑袋，使劲眨着眼睛，想除去梦中所见的那扇门的影像？？它是那么鲜明？？他仔细一瞧多比，发现这小精灵还围着几条围巾，穿着不知多少双袜子，使他的脚看上去大得不成比例。

    “呃？？你拿了赫敏放在这里的全部衣服吗？”

    “哦，不是，先生，”多比愉快地说，“多比还拿了些给闪闪，先生。”

    “噢，闪闪怎么样？”哈利问。

    多比的耳朵微微耷拉了下来。

    “闪闪还是酗酒，先生。”他难过地说，网球那么大的绿眼睛垂了下去，“她还是不收拾衣服，哈利波特。其他家养小精灵也不管。他们都不肯清洁格兰芬多塔楼了，帽子和袜子藏得到处都是，他们觉得那是侮辱。都是多比一个人做，先生，但多比不介意，先生，因为他总希望遇见哈利波特，今晚他如愿以偿了，先生！”多比又深鞠一躬。“但哈利波特好像不高兴，”多比直起腰，怯怯地望着哈利，“多比听到他说梦话了。哈利-波特做了噩梦吗？”

    “还好，”哈利打了个哈欠，揉揉眼睛，“我做过更可怕的。”

    小精灵用他那大大的、圆圆的眼睛端详着哈利。然后耷拉下耳朵，极其认真地说：“多比想帮助哈利波特，因为哈利波特解放了多比，多比现在比从前快乐了好多好多。”

    哈利笑了。

    “你帮不了我，多比，但是谢谢你。”

    他俯身拾起魔药学课本，只能明天拼命赶了。他合上书时，炉火照亮了他手背上那道白伤疤，那是被乌姆里奇关禁闭的结果。

    “等一等——　有一件事你可以帮我，多比。”哈利慢慢地说。

    小精灵喜笑颜开。

    “说吧，哈利波特，先生！”

    “我需要一个地方，能让二十八个人练习黑魔法防御术而不被老师们发现，尤其是，”哈利攥紧课本，伤疤发出白色光泽，“乌姆里奇教授。”

    他以为小精灵的笑容会消失，耳朵会耷拉下来；他以为他会说这不可能，或者说他会努力，但希望不大。可他没想到，多比轻轻一跳，耳朵愉快地摆动起来，两手一拍。

    “多比知道一个绝妙的地方，先生！”他高兴地说，“多比来霍格沃茨时听其他小精灵提到过，我们叫它‘来去屋’或‘有求必应屋’！”

    “为什么？”哈利好奇地问。

    “因为这间屋子只有当一个人真正需要它时才能进去。”多比严肃地说，“它-265　？时有时无，但当它出现时，总是布置得符合求助者的需要。多比用过它，先生。”小精灵的声音低了下去，面有愧色，“闪闪醉得厉害时，多比就把她藏在有求必应屋里，他发现那儿有黄油啤酒的醒酒药，还有一个符合小精灵尺寸的床可以让她睡觉，先生？？多比还知道费尔奇先生工具不够时在那儿找到过备用的清洁用具，先生，还有——　”

    “还有，如果你需要一个卫生问，”哈利问，突然想起邓布利多在去年圣诞舞会上说过的话，“它会备有很多便壶吗？”①“多比认为会的，先生，”多比认真地点头道，“那是一间非常奇妙的屋子，先生。”　“有多少人知道它？”哈利坐直了身体。“很少，先生。人们通常在需要时才会发现它，但以后就再也找不着它了，因为他们不知道它一直在那儿听候需要，先生。”　“听起来很棒，”哈利说，心跳加快了，“听起来妙极了，多比。你什么时候能带我去看看？”　“什么时候都行，哈利波特，先生，”看到哈利热切的样子，多比显得很高兴，“如果您愿意，现在就可以去。”

    哈利很想马上就去，他都要站起来了，打算跑上楼去拿隐形衣，然而（不是第一次），一个很像赫敏的声音在他耳边说：鲁莽。时间毕竟太晚，他已精疲力竭，还有斯内普的论文要写。

    “今晚算了，多比，”哈利不情愿地说，又坐回到椅子上，“这件事很重要？？我不想办砸，斋要周密地计划？？你能不能告诉我这个有求必应屋在哪儿，怎么进去？”

    他们溅着水花穿过菜地去上草药课，袍子被吹得鼓鼓的，在风中飘舞。雨点像冰雹一样打着温室的屋顶，几乎听不到斯普劳特教授在说什么。下午的保护神奇生物课从户外转移到了一楼的一个空教室里。午饭时安吉利娜跟队员们说魁地奇球训练取消了，大家如释重负。

    “正好，”哈利小声说，“因为我们找到了防御小组第一次集会的地方。今晚八点钟，　在八楼，巨怪棒打傻巴拿巴的挂毯对面。你能通知凯蒂和艾丽娅吗？”　她似乎有些吃惊，但答应通知其他人。哈利继续狼吞虎咽地吃他的香肠和土豆泥。当他抬起头来喝南瓜汁时，发现赫敏正在看着他。“怎么啦？”他含混地问。

    ①关于这个故事，详情请见《哈利波特与火焰杯》一书，人民文学出版社，2001年5月版，第23章“圣诞舞会”。

    -266　？“嗯？？多比的计划并不总是那么安全。你不记得是他让你失去了手臂中所有的骨头吗？”

    “这间屋子不只是多比的奇想，邓布利多也知道，他在圣诞舞会上跟我提过①。”

    赫敏脸色晴朗起来。

    “邓布利多跟你说过？”

    “顺便提了一句。”哈利耸耸肩。

    “噢，那就好。”赫敏轻快地说，没有再提出异议。

    他们和罗恩分头去找在猪头酒吧签名的人，通知晚上开会。哈利有些失望。金妮在他之前找到了秋张和她的朋友。但晚饭结束时，他确信上次去猪头酒吧的二十五个人都得到了消息。

    七点半，哈利、罗恩和赫敏离开了格兰芬多的公共休息室，哈利手里握着一片古旧的羊皮纸。虽然，五年级学生可以在走廊上待到九点，但当他们三人走向八楼时，还是紧张得左顾右盼。

    “等等。”在楼梯顶上哈利警告地说。他展开羊皮纸，用魔杖敲敲它，轻轻念道：“我庄严宣誓我不怀好意。”空白的羊皮纸上现出了一幅霍格沃茨地图，移动的黑点上标着名字，显示出各人的位置。“费尔奇在三楼，”哈利把活点地图举到眼前仔细看着，“洛丽丝夫人在五楼。”“乌姆里奇呢？”赫敏担心地问。“在她的办公室里。”哈利指着她的位置说，“好，走吧。”　他们迅速穿过走廊来到多比描述的地方，即画着傻巴拿巴试图教巨怪跳芭蕾舞的巨幅挂毯前，对面是一段白墙。“到了，”哈利低声说，一个被虫蛀的巨怪停止了痛打芭蕾舞教师，扭头注视着他们，“多比说要三次走过这段墙，集中精神想我们需要什么。”　他们照此而行，走到白墙一端的窗户处向后转，到另一端一人高的花瓶处再折回。罗恩眯起了眼集中思想，赫敏小声念念有词，哈利双手握拳目视前方。我们需要一个学习搏斗的地方？？他想，给我们一个练习的场所？？不会被发现？？“哈利。”他们第三次转身时，赫敏突然说。

    墙上出现了一扇非常光滑的门。罗恩盯着它，心存戒备。哈利握住铜把手，拉开了门，带头走进一间宽敞的屋子，里面点着火把，像地下教室里的一样。

    ①实际上当时邓布利多是跟卡卡洛夫说的。但哈利在旁边听见了。

    -267　？墙边是一溜木书架，地上没有椅子，但放着缎面的大坐垫。屋子另一头的架子上摆着窥镜、探密器等各种仪器，还有一面有裂缝的大照妖镜，哈利确信就是去年挂在假穆迪办公室里的那面。

    “这些练昏迷咒的时候有用。”罗恩用脚踢踢坐垫，兴奋地说。

    “看这些书！”赫敏激动地抚着一排排羊皮面大厚书的书脊，“《普通咒语及解招》？？《智胜黑魔法》？？《自卫魔咒集》？？哇？？”她回头望着哈利，脸上放光，哈利看到这几百本书籍终于让赫敏相信他们的行动是对的了，“哈利，太棒了，我们要的东西应有尽有。”

    她立刻从书架上抽出《以毒攻毒集》，坐到最近的垫子上读了起来。

    轻轻的敲门声响起，哈利转身一看，金妮、纳威、帕瓦蒂和迪安到了。

    “哇，”迪安环顾四周，惊叹道，“这是什么地方？”

    哈利开始解释，可是没等他说完，又有人进来了，他只好从头讲起。八点钟时，每个垫子上都坐了人。哈利走到门口，转动锁上的钥匙，发出令人满意的咔哒一声，大家都安静下来看着他。赫敏仔细地在《以毒攻毒集》的书页上加上标记，把书放到了一边。

    “嗯，”哈利有点紧张，“这就是我们找到的练习场所，大家——　哦——　显然觉得还不错——　”

    “太妙了！”秋说，有几人小声附和。

    “真怪，”弗雷德皱眉打量着四周，“我们在这儿躲过费尔奇，乔治，你还记得吗？可那次它只是个扫帚柜？？”

    “喂，哈利，这是什么？”迪安在后排指着窥镜和照妖镜问。“黑魔法探测器，”哈利从垫子间走了过去，“它们一般都用来显示附近有没有黑巫师或敌人活动，但不要太依赖这些仪器，它们可能会受骗？？”他朝裂了缝的照妖镜里看了一会儿，有隐约的人影在移动，但都看不真切。

    他没再理会它。

    “好，我一直在考虑我们首先该干什么——　呃——　”他发现一只手举了起来，“什么事，赫敏？”

    “我想我们应该选一个领导。”赫敏说。

    “哈利就是领导。”秋马上说，看她的眼光，好像赫敏疯了似的。

    哈利心头又是一跳。、“没错，但我想我们应该正式选举，”赫敏镇静地说，“这样可以正式授权给他。所以——　谁觉得哈利应该做我们的领导？”全体举手，连扎卡赖斯史密斯也举手了，尽管勉勉强强。“啊——　谢谢，”哈利觉得脸上发烧，“还有——　什么，赫敏？”“我还觉得我们应该有个名称，”她清晰地说，手还举在空中，“这可以促进团-268　？结和加强集体精神，是不是？”“叫‘反乌姆里奇联盟’行吗？”安吉利娜期待地问。“或者叫‘魔法部是笨蛋’小组？”弗雷德提议。

    “我想，”赫敏皱眉望着弗雷德说，“这个名称最好不让人看出我们是干什么的，这样我们可以在外面安全地提到它。”“防御协会？”秋说，“简称D.A.，谁也不知道我们说什么。”　“嘿，DA不错，”金妮说，“它还可以表示‘邓布利多军①’，那可是魔法部最吾怕的，对吧？”一片低声的赞许和笑声。“都同意DA.吗？”赫敏像主持人似的问，一面跪起来数人头，“大多数——动议通过了。”

    她把写着所有人名字的纸条钉到墙上，在顶端写道：邓布利多军。“很好，”她坐下之后哈利说，“我们开始练习吧？我想第一个要练的是除你武器，大家知道，就是缴械咒。我知道这比较基本，但我觉得它确实有用——　”　“哦，拜托，”扎卡赖斯史密斯抱着胳膊，瞪大眼珠说，“我想除你武器对神秘人不起作用吧？”

    “我对他用过，”哈利平静地说，“就在六月份它救了我的命。”　史密斯呆呆地张着嘴巴，屋里鸦雀无声。“但如果你不屑于练它，可以离开。”哈利说。史密斯没有动。没有一个动的。“好，”这么多的目光集中在他身上，哈利的嘴有点发干，“我想我们应该分成两人一组进行练习。”发指示的感觉很怪，但是看到指示被执行的感觉更怪。大家立刻站起来两两结对。可以想见，纳威落了单。“你可以跟我练，”哈利对他说，“好——　听我数到三——　一、二、三——　”　屋里顿时一片除你武器之声，魔杖四处乱飞，打偏了的咒语击中架子上的书籍，一本本的书飞到了空中。哈利身手快，纳威的魔杖旋转着飞出去，撞到天花板上，火星四溅，然后当啷一声落到书架顶上，哈利用飞来咒把它收了回来。他看看周围，感到从基本功练起是对的。许多咒语用得乱七八糟，不少人根本不能解除对手的武器，只是逼着他们往后跳几步或畏缩一下，无力的咒语从他们头上呼啸飞过。

    “　除你武器！”纳威喝道，哈利猝不及防，　魔杖脱手飞出。“成功了！”纳威欢喜地说，“以前从来没有——　我成功了！”

    ①　“防御协会”和“邓布利多军”英文首字母缩写都为D.A.。

    -269　？“不错！”哈利鼓励地说，决定不指出在真正的搏斗时，对手不可能看着别处，魔杖松握在一边，“纳威，你能不能轮流跟罗恩和赫敏练一会儿，我随便走走，看看大家练得怎么样。”

    哈利走到屋子中央，扎卡赖斯史密斯出了很奇怪的情况，每次他张嘴要解除安东尼。戈德斯坦的武器时，自己的魔杖却飞了出去，而安东尼好像并未发声。但哈利没多久就解开了谜团，弗雷德和乔治离史密斯不远，两人轮流用魔杖指着他的后背。

    “对不起，哈利，”看到哈利的目光，乔治忙说，“忍不住。”

    哈利走了一圈，努力纠正做错的人。金妮和迈克尔科纳一组，她做得很好，迈克尔虽然做得不是很差，但就是不肯对她念这个咒语。厄尼麦克米兰不必要地挥舞着魔杖，使得对方有隙可乘。克里维兄弟很热情，但技术不稳定，附近架子上飞起的书大都是他们的功劳。卢娜洛夫古德也是反复无常，有时能让贾斯廷。芬列里的魔杖旋转着飞出，其他时候则只是让他的头发竖了起来。

    “好了，停止！”哈利喊道，“停止！停止！”我需要一个口哨，他这样一想，便马上在最近的一排书上发现了一个。他抓起口哨使劲一吹。大家都垂下了魔杖。“练得不错，”哈利说，“但还有应该改进的地方。”扎卡赖斯史密斯瞪着他。“我们再来？？”他又开始在屋里巡视，不时停下来提提意见。大家的技术渐渐改善。他起先避免走近秋和她的朋友，但巡视两圈之后，他觉得不能再忽略她们了。“哦，”他走近时，秋慌乱地说，“除你武衣！不是，除你火器！不——　哦，对不起，玛丽埃塔！”她那鬈发朋友的袖子着火了。玛丽埃塔用自己的魔杖把火扑灭，然后瞪着哈利，好像是他的错似的。

    “你让我紧张了，我原来做得挺好的！”秋懊丧地说。

    “很不错，”哈利撒谎道，但看到她扬起眉毛，忙又改口说，“哦，不，很糟糕，但我知道你能做好，我在那边看到？？”

    她笑了起来。玛丽埃塔酸溜溜地看着他们俩，扭身走了。

    “别管她，”秋小声说，“她不大想来，是我拖她来的。她父母不许她做触犯乌姆里奇的事情，你知道——　她妈妈在部里工作。”

    “那你父母呢？”哈利问。

    “他们也不让我跟乌姆里奇作对，”秋说，骄傲地挺直了身躯，“但如果他们以为在塞德里克的事之后，我还会不抵抗神秘人——　”

    她没有说下去，显得有些迷茫，两人尴尬地沉默了一阵。泰瑞布特的魔杖从哈利耳边呼啸而过，重重地打在艾丽娅斯平内特的鼻子上。

    -270　？“我爸爸非常支持反魔法部的行动！”卢娜洛夫古德在哈利身后自豪地说。她显然偷听了他们的谈话，贾斯廷芬列里在努力挣脱裹到他头上的袍子。“他总说他相信福吉什么都干得出来，比如说，福吉暗杀了许多妖精！当然，他还利用神秘事物司研制可怕的毒药，偷偷对跟他有分歧的人下药。还有他的阿古巴什吉特——　”

    “别问。”看到秋困惑地张开嘴巴，哈利说。她笑了。

    “嘿，哈利，”赫敏在屋子另一头喊道，“你看时间了吗？”

    他低头一看手表，吃了一惊——　已经九点十分，他们必须马上回公共休息室了，否则可能会被费尔奇抓到严惩。他一吹口哨，大家停止了叫嚷“除你武器”，最后几根魔杖噼里啪啦她落到了地上。

    “非常好，”哈利说。“但我们超过时间了，就到这里吧。下周同一时间，同一地点？”

    “　早点更好！”迪安托马斯急切地说，不少人点头赞同。

    但安吉利娜忙说：“魁地奇赛季要开始了，球队也要训练！”

    “那就下周三晚上吧，”哈利说，“到时再决定其他集会时间？？好，我们最好赶快走？？”

    他又抽出活点地图，仔细查看八楼有没有教师。他让大家三四个人结伴走，担心地看着他们的小黑点是否安全回到了宿舍：赫奇帕奇的回到了同时通向厨房的地下室走廊里，拉文克劳的回到了城堡西面的塔楼，格兰芬多的沿八楼走廊回到了胖夫人肖像前。

“真是太棒了，哈利。”赫敏说。屋里只剩下了她、哈利和罗恩。“是啊！”罗恩热烈地说，他们溜出门去，看着它在身后重新变成石头。“哈利，你看到我让赫敏的魔杖脱手了吗？”“只有一次，”赫敏像被刺了一下，“我胜你的次数多得多——　”　“不止一次，我胜了你至少三次——　”　“哼，如果你算上自己绊了一跤，把我魔杖撞掉的那次——　”　他们一路吵回了公共休息室，但啥利没有听，他还在看活点地图，同时在回想着秋说的他让她紧张那句话。

Dumbledore's Army

‘Umbridge has been reading your mail, Harry. There's no other explanation.’

‘You think Umbridge attacked Hedwig?’ he said, outraged.

‘I'm almost certain of it,’ said Hermione grimly. ‘Watch your frog, it's escaping.’

Harry pointed his wand at the bullfrog that had been hopping hopefully towards the other side of the table—‘Accio!'— and it zoomed gloomily back into his hand.

Charms was always one of the best lessons in which to enjoy a private chat; there was generally so much movement and activity that the danger of being overheard was very slight. Today, with the room full of croaking bullfrogs and cawing ravens, and with a heavy downpour of rain clattering and pounding against the classroom windows, Harry, Ron and Hermione's whispered discussion about how Umbridge had nearly caught Sirius went quite unnoticed.

‘I've been suspecting this ever since Filch accused you of ordering Dungbombs, because it seemed such a stupid lie,’ Hermione whispered. ‘I mean, once your letter had been read it would have been quite clear you weren't ordering them, so you wouldn't have been in trouble at all—it's a bit of a feeble joke, isn't it? But then I thought, what if somebody just wanted an excuse to read your mail? Well then, it would be a perfect way for Umbridge to manage it —tip off Filch, let him do the dirty work and confiscate the letter, then either find a way of stealing it from him or else demand to see it—I don't think Filch would object, when's he ever stuck up for a student's rights? Harry, you're squashing your frog.’

Harry looked down; he was indeed squeezing his bullfrog so tightly its eyes were popping; he replaced it hastily upon the desk.

‘It was a very, very close call last night,’ said Hermione. ‘I just wonder if Umbridge knows how close it was. Silencio.’

The bullfrog on which she was practising her Silencing Charm was struck dumb mid-croak and glared at her reproachfully.

‘If she'd caught Snuffles—’

Harry finished the sentence for her.

‘—He'd probably be back in Azkaban this morning.’ He waved his wand without really concentrating; his bullfrog swelled like a green balloon and emitted a high-pitched whistle.

‘Silencio!’ said Hermione hastily, pointing her wand at Harry's frog, which deflated silently before them. ‘Well, he mustn't do it again, that's all. I just don't know how we're going to let him know. We can't send him an owl.’

‘I don't reckon he'll risk it again,’ said Ron. ‘He's not stupid, he knows she nearly got him. Silencio.’

The large and ugly raven in front of him let out a derisive caw.

‘Silencio. SILENCIO!’

The raven cawed more loudly.

‘It's the way you're moving your wand,’ said Hermione, watching Ron critically, ‘you don't want to wave it, it's more a sharp jab.’

‘Ravens are harder than frogs,’ said Ron through clenched teeth.

‘Fi ne, let's swap,’ said Hermione, seizing Ron's raven and replacing it with her own fat bullfrog. ‘Silencio!’ The raven continued to open and close its sharp beak, but no sound came out.

‘Very good, Miss Granger!’ said Professor Flitwick's squeaky little voice, making Harry, Ron and Hermione all jump. ‘Now, let me see you try, Mr. Weasley’

‘Wha—? Oh—oh, right,’ said Ron, very flustered. ‘Er—silencio!’

He jabbed at the bullfrog so hard he poked it in the eye: the frog gave a deafening croak and leapt off the desk.

It came as no surprise to any of them that Harry and Ron were given additional practice of the Silencing Charm for homework.

They were allowed to remain inside over break due to the downpour outside. They found seats in a noisy and overcrowded classroom on the first floor in which Peeves was floating dreamily up near the chandelier, occasionally blowing an ink pellet at the top of somebody's head. They had barely sat down when Angelina came struggling towards them through the groups of gossiping students.

‘I've got permission!’ she said. ‘To re-form the Quidditch team!’

‘Excellent!’ said Ron and Harry together.

‘Yeah,’ said Angelina, beaming. ‘I went to McGonagall and I think she might have appealed to Dumbledore. Anyway, Umbridge had to give in. Ha! So I want you down at the pitch at seven o'clock tonight, all right, because we've got to make up time. You realise we're only three weeks away from our first match?’

She squeezed away from them, narrowly dodged an ink pellet from Peeves, which hit a nearby first-year instead, and vanished from sight.

Ron's smile slipped slightly as he looked out of the window, which was now opaque with hammering rain.

‘Hope this clears up. What's up with you, Hermione?’

She, too, was gazing at the window, but not as though she really saw it. Her eyes were unfocused and there was a frown on her face.

‘Just thinking ...’ she said, still frowning at the rain-washed window.

‘About Siri— Snuffles?’ said Harry.

‘No ... not exactly ...’ said Hermione slowly. ‘More ... wondering ... I suppose we're doing the right thing ... I think ... aren't we?’

Harry and Ron looked at each other.

‘Well, that clears that up,’ said Ron. ‘It would've been really annoying if you hadn't explained yourself properly.’

Hermione looked at him as though she had only just realised he was there.

‘I was just wondering,’ she said, her voice stronger now, ‘whether we're doing the right thing, starting this Defence Against the Dark Arts group.’

‘What?’ said Harry and Ron together.

‘Hermione, it was your idea in the first place!’ said Ron indignantly.

‘I know,’ said Hermione, twisting her fingers together. ‘But after talking to Snuffles ...’

‘But he's all for it,’ said Harry.

‘Yes,’ said Hermione, staring at the window again. ‘Yes, that's what made me think maybe it wasn't a good idea after all ...’

Peeves floated over them on his stomach, peashooter at the ready; automatically all three of them lifted their bags to cover their heads until he had passed.

‘Let's get this straight,’ said Harry angrily, as they put their bags back on the floor, ‘Sirius agrees with us, so you don't think we should do it any more?’

Hermione looked tense and rather miserable. Now staring at her own hands, she said, ‘Do you honestly trust his judgement?’

‘Yes, I do!’ said Harry at once. ‘He's always given us great advice!’

An ink pellet whizzed past them, striking Katie Bell squarely in the ear. Hermione watched Katie leap to her feet and start throwing things at Peeves; it was a few moments before Hermione spoke again and it sounded as though she was choosing her words very carefully.

‘You don't think he has become ... sort of ... reckless ... since he's been cooped up in Grimmauld Place? You don't think he's ... kind of ... living through us?’

‘What d'you mean, “living through us"?’ Harry retorted.

‘I mean ... well, I think he'd love to be forming secret Defence societies right under the nose of someone from the Ministry ... I think he's really frustrated at how little he can do where he is ... so I think he's keen to kind of ... egg us on.’

Ron looked utterly perplexed.

‘Sirius is right,’ he said, ‘you do sound just like my mother.’

Hermione bit her lip and did not answer. The bell rang just as Peeves swooped down on Katie and emptied an entire ink bottle over her head.

The weather did not improve as the day wore on, so that at seven o'clock that evening, when Harry and Ron went down to the Quidditch pitch for practice, they were soaked through within minutes, their feet slipping and sliding on the sodden grass. The sky was a deep, thundery grey and it was a relief to gain the warmth and light of the changing rooms, even if they knew the respite was only temporary. They found Fred and George debating whether to use one of their own Skiving Snackboxes to get out of flying.

‘... but I bet she'd know what we'd done,’ Fred said out of the corner of his mouth. ‘If only I hadn't offered to sell her some Puking Pastilles yesterday.’

‘We could try the Fever Fudge,’ George muttered, ‘no one's seen that yet—’

‘Does it work?’ enquired Ron hopefully, as the hammering of rain on the roof intensified and wind howled around the building.

‘Well, yeah,’ said Fred, ‘your temperature'll go right up.’

‘But you get these massive pus-filled boils, too,’ said George, ‘and we haven't worked out how to get rid of them yet.’

‘I can't see any boils,’ said Ron, staring at the twins.

‘No, well, you wouldn't,’ said Fred darkly, ‘they're not in a place we generally display to the public.’

‘But they make sitting on a broom a right pain in the—’

‘All right, everyone, listen up,’ said Angelina loudly, emerging from the Captain's office. ‘I know it's not ideal weather, but there's a chance we'll be playing Slytherin in conditions like this so it's a good idea to work out how we're going to cope with them. Harry, didn't you do something to your glasses to stop the rain fogging them up when we played Hufflepuff in that storm?’

‘Hermione did it,’ said Harry. He pulled out his wand, tapped his glasses and said, ‘Impervius!’

‘I think we all ought to try that,’ said Angelina. ‘If we could just keep the rain off our faces it would really help visibility—all together, come on—Impervius!OK. Let's go.’

They all stowed their wands back in the inside pockets of their robes, shouldered their brooms and followed Angelina out of the changing rooms.

They squelched through the deepening mud to the middle of the pitch; visibility was still very poor even with the Impervius Charm; light was fading fast and curtains of rain were sweeping the grounds.

‘All right, on my whistle,’ shouted Angelina.

Harry kicked off from the ground, spraying mud in all directions, and shot upwards, the wind pulling him slightly off course.

He had no idea how he was going to see the Snitch in this weather; he was having enough difficulty seeing the one Bludger with which they were practising; a minute into the practice it almost unseated him and he had to use the Sloth Grip Roll to avoid it. Unfortunately, Angelina did not see this. In fact, she did not appear to be able to see anything; none of them had a clue what the others were doing. The wind was picking up; even at a distance Harry could hear the swishing, pounding sounds of the rain pummelling the surface of the lake.

Angelina kept them at it for nearly an hour before conceding defeat. She led her sodden and disgruntled team back into the changing rooms, insisting that the practice had not been a waste of time, though without any real conviction in her voice. Fred and George were looking particularly annoyed; both were bandy-legged and winced with every movement. Harry could hear them complaining in low voices as he towelled his hair dry.

‘I think a few of mine have ruptured,’ said Fred in a hollow voice.

‘Mine haven't,’ said George, through clenched teeth, ‘they're throbbing like mad ... feel bigger if anything.’

‘OUCH!’ said Harry.

He pressed the towel to his face, his eyes screwed tight with pain. The scar on his forehead had seared again, more painfully than it had in weeks.

‘What's up?’ said several voices.

Harry emerged from behind his towel; the changing room was blurred because he was not wearing his glasses, but he could still tell that everyone's face was turned towards him.

‘Nothing,’ he muttered, ‘I—poked myself in the eye, that's all.’

But he gave Ron a significant look and the two of them hung back as the rest of the team filed back outside, muffled in their cloaks, their hats pulled low over their ears.

‘What happened?’ said Ron, the moment Alicia had disappeared through the door. ‘Was it your scar?’

Harry nodded.

‘But ...’ looking scared, Ron strode across to the window and stared out into the rain, ‘he—he can't be near us now, can he?’

‘No,’ Harry muttered, sinking on to a bench and rubbing his forehead. ‘He's probably miles away. It hurt because ... he's ... angry.’

Harry had not meant to say that at all, and heard the words as though a stranger had spoken them—yet knew at once that they were true. He did not know how he knew it, but he did; Voldemort, wherever he was, whatever he was doing, was in a towering temper.

‘Did you see him?’ said Ron, looking horrified. ‘Did you ... get a vision, or something?’

Harry sat quite still, staring at his feet, allowing his mind and his memory to relax in the aftermath of the pain.

A confused tangle of shapes, a howling rush of voices ...

‘He wants something done, and it's not happening fast enough,’ he said.

Again, he felt surprised to hear the words coming out of his mouth, and yet was quite certain they were true.

‘But ... how do you know?’ said Ron.

Harry shook his head and covered his eyes with his hands, pressing down upon them with his palms. Little stars erupted in them. He felt Ron sit down on the bench beside him and knew Ron was staring at him.

‘Is this what it was about last time?’ said Ron in a hushed voice. ‘When your scar hurt in Umbridge's office? You-Know-Who was angry?’

Harry shook his head.

‘What is it, then?’

Harry was thinking himself back. He had been looking into Umbridge's face ... his scar had hurt ... and he had had that odd feeling in his stomach ... a strange, leaping feeling ... a happy feeling ... but of course, he had not recognised it for what it was, as he had been feeling so miserable himself ...

‘Last time, it was because he was pleased,’ he said. ‘Really pleased. He thought ... something good was going to happen. And the night before we came back to Hogwarts ...’ he thought back to the moment when his scar had hurt so badly in his and Ron's bedroom in Grimmauld Place ... he was furious.

He looked round at Ron, who was gaping at him.

‘You could take over from Trelawney, mate,’ he said in an awed voice.

‘I'm not making prophecies,’ said Harry.

‘No, you know what you're doing?’ Ron said, sounding both scared and impressed. ‘Harry, you're reading You-Know-Who's mind!’

‘No,’ said Harry, shaking his head. ‘It's more like ... his mood, I suppose. I'm just getting flashes of what mood he's in. Dumbledore said something like this was happening last year. He said that when Voldemort was near me, or when he was feeling hatred, I could tell. Well, now I'm feeling it when he's pleased, too ...’

There was a pause. The wind and rain lashed at the building.

‘You've got to tell someone,’ said Ron.

‘I told Sirius last time.’

‘Well, tell him about this time!’

‘Can't, can I?’ said Harry grimly. ‘Umbridge is watching the owls and the fires, remember?’

‘Well then, Dumbledore.’

‘I've just told you, he already knows,’ said Harry shortly, getting to his feet, taking his cloak off his peg and swinging it around him. ‘There's no point telling him again.’

Ron did up the fastening of his own cloak, watching Harry thoughtfully.

‘Dumbledore'd want to know,’ he said.

Harry shrugged.

‘C'mon ... we've still got Silencing Charms to practise.’

They hurried back through the dark grounds, sliding and stumbling up the muddy lawns, not talking. Harry was thinking hard. What was it that Voldemort wanted done that was not happening quickly enough?

‘... he's got other plans ... plans he can put into operation very quietly indeed ... stuff he can only get by stealth ... like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time.’

Harry had not thought about those words in weeks; he had been too absorbed in what was going on at Hogwarts, too busy dwelling on the ongoing battles with Umbridge, the injustice of all the Ministry interference ... but now they came back to him and made him wonder ... Voldemort's anger would make sense if he was no nearer to laying hands on the weapon, whatever it was. Had the Order thwarted him, stopped him from seizing it? Where was it kept? Who had it now?

‘Mimbulus mimbletonia,’ said Ron's voice and Harry came back to his senses just in time to clamber through the portrait hole into the common room.

It appeared that Hermione had gone to bed early, leaving Crookshanks curled in a nearby chair and an assortment of knobbly knitted elf hats lying on a table by the fire. Harry was rather grateful that she was not around, because he did not much want to discuss his scar hurting and have her urge him to go to Dumbledore, too. Ron kept throwing him anxious glances, but Harry pulled out his Charms books and set to work on finishing his essay, though he was only pretending to concentrate and by the time Ron said he was going up to bed, too, he had written hardly anything.

Midnight came and went while Harry was reading and rereading a passage about the uses of scurvy-grass, lovage and sneezewort and not taking in a word of it.

These plantes are moste efficacious in the inflaming of the braine, and are therefore much used in Confusing and Befuddlement Draughts, where the wizard is desirous of producing hot-headedness and recklessness ...

... Hermione said Sirius was becoming reckless cooped up in Grimmauld Place ...

... moste efficacious in the inflaming of the braine, and are therefore much used ...

... the Daily Prophet would think his brain was inflamed if they found out that he knew what Voldemort was feeling ...

... therefore much used in Confusing and Befuddlement Draughts ...

... confusing was the word, all right; why did he know what Voldemort was feeling? What was this weird connection between them, which Dumbledore had never been able to explain satisfactorily?

... where the wizard is desirous ...

... how Harry would like to sleep ...

... of producing hot-headedness ...

... it was warm and comfortable in his armchair before the fire, with the rain still beating heavily on the windowpanes, Crookshanks purring, and the crackling of the flames ...

The book slipped from Harry's slack grip and landed with a dull thud on the hearthrug. His head lolled sideways ...

He was walking once more along a windowless corridor, his footsteps echoing in the silence. As the door at the end of the passage loomed larger, his heart beat fast with excitement ... if he could only open it ... enter beyond ...

He stretched out his hand ... his fingertips were inches from it ...

‘Harry Potter, sir!’

He awoke with a start. The candles had all been extinguished in the common room, but there was something moving close by.

‘Whozair?’ said Harry, sitting upright in his chair. The fire was almost out, the room very dark.

‘Dobby has your owl, sir!’ said a squeaky voice.

‘Dobby?’ said Harry thickly, peering through the gloom towards the source of the voice.

Dobby the house-elf was standing beside the table on which Hermione had left half a dozen of her knitted hats. His large, pointed ears were now sticking out from beneath what looked like all the hats Hermione had ever knitted; he was wearing one on top of the other, so that his head seemed elongated by two or three feet, and on the very topmost bobble sat Hedwig, hooting serenely and obviously cured.

‘Dobby volunteered to return Harry Potter's owl,’ said the elf squeakily, with a look of positive adoration on his face, ‘Professor Grubbly-Plank says she is all well now, sir.’ He sank into a deep bow so that his pencil-like nose brushed the threadbare surface of the hearthrug and Hedwig gave an indignant hoot and fluttered on to the arm of Harry's chair.

‘Thanks, Dobby!’ said Harry, stroking Hedwig's head and blinking hard, trying to rid himself of the image of the door in his dream ... it had been very vivid. Surveying Dobby more closely, he noticed that the elf was also wearing several scarves and innumerable socks, so that his feet looked far too big for his body.

‘Er ... have you been taking all the clothes Hermione's been leaving out?’

‘Oh, no, sir,’ said Dobby happily. ‘Dobby has been taking some for Winky, too, sir.’

‘Yeah, how is Winky?’ asked Harry.

Bobby's ears drooped slightly.

‘Winky is still drinking lots, sir,’ he said sadly, his enormous round green eyes, large as tennis balls, downcast. ‘She still does not care for clothes, Harry Potter. Nor do the other house-elves. None of them will clean Gryffindor Tower any more, not with the hats and socks hidden everywhere, they finds them insulting, sir. Dobby does it all himself, sir, but Dobby does not mind, sir, for he always hopes to meet Harry Potter and tonight, sir, he has got his wish!’ Dobby sank into a deep bow again. ‘But Harry Potter does not seem happy,’ Dobby went on, straightening up again and kicking timidly at Harry. ‘Dobby heard him muttering in his sleep. Was Harry Potter having bad dreams?’

‘Not really bad,’ said Harry, yawning and rubbing his eyes. ‘I've had worse.’

The elf surveyed Harry out of his vast, orb-like eyes. Then he said very seriously, his ears drooping, ‘Dobby wishes he could help Harry Potter, for Harry Potter set Dobby free and Dobby is much, much happier now.’

Harry smiled.

‘You can't help me, Dobby, but thanks for the offer.’

He bent and picked up his Potions book. He'd have to try to finish the essay tomorrow. He closed the book and as he did so the firelight illuminated the thin white scars on the back of his hand—the result of his detentions with Umbridge ...

‘Wait a moment— there is something you can do for me, Dobby,’ said Harry slowly.

The elf looked round, beaming.

‘Name it, Harry Potter, sir!’

‘I need to find a place where twenty-eight people can practise Defence Against the Dark Arts without being discovered by any of the teachers. Especially,’ Harry clenched his hand on the book, so that the scars shone pearly white, ‘Professor Umbridge.’

He expected the elf's smile to vanish, his ears to droop; he expected him to say it was impossible, or else that he would try to find somewhere, but his hopes were not high. What he had not expected was for Dobby to give a little skip, his ears waggling cheerfully, and clap his hands together.

‘Dobby knows the perfect place, sir!’ he said happily. ‘Dobby heard tell of it from the other house-elves when he came to Hogwarts, sir. It is known by us as the Come and Go Room, sir, or else as the Room of Requirement!’

‘Why?’ said Harry curiously.

‘Because it is a room that a person can only enter,’ said Dobby seriously, ‘when they have real need of it. Sometimes it is there, and sometimes it is not, but when it appears, it is always equipped for the seeker's needs. Dobby has used it, sir,’ said the elf, dropping his voice and looking guilty, ‘when Winky has been very drunk; he has hidden her in the Room of Requirement and he has found antidotes to Butterbeer there, and a nice elf-sized bed to settle her on while she sleeps it off, sir ... and Dobby knows Mr. Filch has found extra cleaning materials there when he has run short, sir, and—’

‘And if you really needed a bathroom,’ said Harry, suddenly remembering something Dumbledore had said at the Yule Ball the previous Christmas, ‘would it fill itself with chamber pots?’

‘Dobby expects so, sir,’ said Dobby, nodding earnestly. ‘It is a most amazing room, sir.’

‘How many people know about it?’ said Harry, sitting up straight er in his chair.

‘Very few, sir. Mostly people stumbles across it when they needs it, sir, but often they never finds it again, for they do not know that it is always there waiting to be called into service, sir.’

‘It sounds brilliant,’ said Harry, his heart racing. ‘It sounds perfect, Dobby. When can you show me where it is?’

‘Any time, Harry Potter, sir,’ said Dobby, looking delighted at Harry's enthusiasm. ‘We could go now, if you like!’

For a moment Harry was tempted to go with Dobby. He was halfway out of his seat, intending to hurry upstairs for his Invisibility Cloak when, not for the first time, a voice very much like Hermione's whispered in his ear: reckless.It was, after all, very late, he was exhausted, and had Snape's essay to finish.

‘Not tonight, Dobby,’ said Harry reluctantly, sinking back into his chair. ‘This is really important ... I don't want to blow it, it'll need proper planning. Listen, can you just tell me exactly where this Room of Requirement is, and how to get in there?’

Their robes billowed and swirled around them as they splashed across the flooded vegetable patch to double Herbology where they could hardly hear what Professor Sprout was saying over the hammering of raindrops hard as hailstones on the greenhouse roof. The afternoon's Care of Magical Creatures lesson was to be relocated from the storm-swept grounds to a free classroom on the ground floor and, to their intense relief, Angelina had sought out her team at lunch to tell them that Quidditch practice was cancelled.

‘Good,’ said Harry quietly, when she. told him, ‘because we've found somewhere to have our first Defence meeting. Tonight, eight o'clock, seventh floor opposite that tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by those trolls. Can you tell Katie and Alicia?’

She looked slightly taken aback but promised to tell the others. Harry returned hungrily to his sausages and mash. When he looked up to take a drink of pumpkin juice, he found Hermione watching him.

‘What?’ he said thickly.

‘Well ... it's just that Dobby's plans aren't always that safe. Don't you remember when he lost you all the bones in your arm?’

‘This room isn't just some mad idea of Dobby's; Dumbledore knows about it, too, he mentioned it to me at the Yule Ball.’

Hermione's expression cleared.

‘Dumbledore told you about it?’

‘Just in passing,’ said Harry, shrugging.

‘Oh, well, that's all right then,’ said Hermione briskly and raised no more objections.

Together with Ron they had spent most of the day seeking out those people who had signed their names to the list in the Hog's Head and telling them where to meet that evening. Somewhat to Harry's disappointment, it was Ginny who managed to find Cho Chang and her friend first; however, by the end of dinner he was confident that the news had been passed to every one of the twenty-five people who had turned up in the Hog's Head.

At half past seven Harry, Ron and Hermione left the Gryffindor common room, Harry clutching a certain piece of aged parchment in his hand. Fifth-years were allowed to be out in the corridors until nine o'clock, but all three of them kept looking around nervously as they made their way along the seventh floor.

‘Hold it,’ Harry warned, unfolding the piece of parchment at the top of the last staircase, tapping it with his wand and muttering, ‘I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.’

A map of Hogwarts appeared on the blank surface of the parchment. Tiny black moving dots, labelled with names, showed where various people were.

‘Filch is on the second floor,’ said Harry, holding the map close to his eyes, ‘and Mrs. Norris is on the fourth.’

‘And Umbridge?’ said Hermione anxiously.

‘In her office,’ said Harry, pointing. ‘OK, let's go.’

They hurried along the corridor to the place Dobby had described to Harry, a stretch of blank wall opposite an enormous tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy's foolish attempt to train trolls for the ballet.

‘OK,’ said Harry quietly, while a moth-eaten troll paused in his relentless clubbing of the would-be ballet teacher to watch them. ‘Dobby said to walk past this bit of wall three times, concentrating hard on what we need.’

They did so, turning sharply at the window just beyond the blank stretch of wall, then at the man-sized vase on its other side. Ron had screwed up his eyes in concentration; Hermione was whispering something under her breath; Harry's fists were clenched as he stared ahead of him.

We need somewhere to learn to fight ... he thought. Just give us a place to practise ... somewhere they can't find us ...

‘Harry!’ said Hermione sharply, as they wheeled around after their third walk past.

A highly polished door had appeared in the wall. Ron was staring at it, looking slightly wary. Harry reached out, seized the brass handle, pulled open the door and led the way into a spacious room lit with flickering torches like those that illuminated the dungeons eight floors below.

The walls were lined with wooden bookcases and instead of chairs the re were large silk cushions on the floor. A set of shelves at the far end of the room carried a range of instruments such as Sneakoscopes, Secrecy Sensors and a large, cracked Foe-Glass that Harry was sure had hung, the previous year, in the fake Moody's office.

‘These will be good when we're practising Stunning,’ said Ron enthusiastically, prodding one of the cushions with his foot.

‘And just look at these books!’ said Hermione excitedly, running a finger along the spines of the large leather-bound tomes. ‘A Compendium of Common Curses and their Counter-Actions ... The Dark Arts Outsmarted ... Self-Defensive Spellwork ... wow ...’ She looked around at Harry, her face glowing, and he saw that the presence of hundreds of books had finally convinced Hermione that what they were doing was right. ‘Harry, this is wonderful, there's everything we need here!’

And without further ado she slid Jinxes for the Jinxed from its shelf, sank on to the nearest cushion and began to read.

There was a gentle knock on the door. Harry looked round. Ginny, Neville, Lavender, Parvati and Dean had arrived.

‘Whoa,’ said Dean, staring around, impressed. ‘What is this place?’

Harry began to explain, but before he had finished more people had arrived and he had to start all over again. By the time eight o'clock arrived, every cushion was occupied. Harry moved across to the door and turned the key protruding from the lock; it clicked in a satisfyingly loud way and everybody fell silent, looking at him. Hermione carefully marked her page of Jinxes for the Jinxed and set the book aside.

‘Well,’ said Harry, slightly nervously. ‘This is the place we've found for practice sessions, and you've—er—obviously found it OK.’

‘It's fantastic!’ said Cho, and several people murmured their agreement.

‘It's bizarre,’ said Fred, frowning around at it. ‘We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then.’

‘Hey, Harry, what's this stuff?’ asked Dean from the rear of the room, indicating the Sneakoscopes and the Foe-Glass.

‘Dark detectors,’ said Harry, stepping between the cushions to reach them. ‘Basically they all show when Dark wizards or enemies are around, but you don't want to rely on them too much, they can be fooled ...’

He gazed for a moment into the cracked Foe-Glass; shadowy figures were moving around inside it, though none was recognisable. He turned his back on it.

‘Well, I've been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and—er—’ He noticed a raised hand. ‘What, Hermione?’

‘I think we ought to elect a leader,’ said Hermione.

‘Harry's leader,’ said Cho at once, looking at Hermione as though she were mad.

Harry's stomach did yet another back-flip.

‘Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly,’ said Hermione, unperturbed. ‘It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So—everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?’

Everybody put up their hand, even Zacharias Smith, though he did it very half-heartedly.

‘Er—right, thanks,’ said Harry, who could feel his face burning. ‘And—what,Hermione?’

‘I also think we ought to have a name,’ she said brightly, her hand still in the air. ‘It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don't you think?’

‘Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?’ said Angelina hopefully.

‘Or the Ministry of Magic are Morons Group?’ suggested Fred.

‘I was thinking,’ said Hermione, frowning at Fred, ‘more of a name that didn't tell everyone what we were up to, so we can refer to it safely outside meetings.’

‘The Defence Association?’ said Cho. ‘The DA for short, so nobody knows what we're talking about?’

‘Yeah, the DA's good,’ said Ginny. ‘Only let's make it stand for Dumbledore's Army, because that's the Ministry's worst fear, isn't it?’

There was a good deal of appreciative murmuring and laughter at this.

‘All in favour of the DA?’ said Hermione bossily, kneeling up on her cushion to count. ‘That's a majority—motion passed!’

She pinned the piece of parchment with all of their signatures on it on to the wall and wrote across the top in large letters:

DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY

‘Right,’ said Harry, when she had sat down again, ‘shall we get practising then? I was thinking, the first thing we should do is Expelliarmus, you know, the Disarming Charm. I know it's pretty basic but I've found it really useful—’

‘Oh, please,’ said Zacharias Smith, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. ‘I don't think Expelliarmus is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?’

‘I've used it against him,’ said Harry quietly. ‘It saved my life in June.’

Smith opened his mouth stupidly. The rest of the room was very quiet.

‘But if you think it's beneath you, you can leave,’ Harry said.

Smith did not move. Nor did anybody else.

‘OK,’ said Harry, his mouth slightly drier than usual with all these eyes upon him, ‘I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practise.’

It felt very odd to be issuing instructions, but not nearly as odd as seeing them followed. Everybody got to their feet at once and divided up. Predictably, Neville was left partnerless.

‘You can practise with me,’ Harry told him. ‘Right—on the count of three, then—one, two, three—’

The room was suddenly full of shouts of Expelliarmus.Wands flew in all directions; missed spells hit books on shelves and sent them flying into the air. Harry was too quick for Neville, whose wand went spinning out of his hand, hit the ceiling in a shower of sparks and landed with a clatter on top of a bookshelf, from which Harry retrieved it with a Summoning Charm. Glancing around, he thought he had been right to suggest they practise the basics first; there was a lot of shoddy spellwork going on; many people were not succeeding in Disarming their opponents at all, but merely causing them to jump backwards a few paces or wince as their feeble spell whooshed over them.

‘Expelliarmus!’ said Neville, and Harry, caught unawares, felt his wand fly out of his hand.

‘I DID IT!’ said Neville gleefully. ‘I've never done it before—I DID IT!’

‘Good one!’ said Harry encouragingly, deciding not to point out that in a real duel Neville's opponent was unlikely to be staring in the opposite direction with his wand held loosely at his side. ‘Listen, Neville, can you take it in turns to practise with Ron and Hermione for a couple of minutes so I can walk around and see how the rest are doing?’

Harry moved off into the middle of the room. Something very odd was happening to Zacharias Smith. Every time he opened his mouth to disarm Anthony Goldstein, his own wand would fly out of his hand, yet Anthony did not seem to be making a sound. Harry did not have to look far to solve the mystery: Fred and George were several feet from Smith and taking it in turns to point their wands at his back.

‘Sorry Harry,’ said George hastily, when Harry caught his eye. ‘Couldn't resist.’

Harry walked around the other pairs, trying to correct those who were doing the spell wrong. Ginny was teamed with Michael Corner; she was doing very well, whereas Michael was either very bad or unwilling to jinx her. Ernie Macmillan was flourishing his wand unnecessarily, giving his partner time to get in under his guard; the Creevey brothers were enthusiastic but erratic and mainly responsible for all the books leaping off the shelves around them; Luna Lovegood was similarly patchy, occasionally sending Justin Finch-Fletchleys wand spinning out of his hand, at other times merely causing his hair to stand on end.

‘OK, stop!’ Harry shouted. ‘Stop. STOP!’

I need a whistle, he thought, and immediately spotted one lying on top of the nearest row of books. He caught it up and blew hard. Everyone lowered their wands.

‘That wasn't bad,’ said Harry, ‘but there's definite room for improvement.’ Zacharias Smith glared at him. ‘Let's try again.’

He moved off around the room again, stopping here and there to make suggestions. Slowly, the general performance improved.

He avoided going near Cho and her friend for a while, but after walking twice around every other pair in the room felt he could not ignore them any longer.

‘Oh no,’ said Cho rather wildly as he approached. ‘Expelliarmious!I mean, Expellimellius! I—oh, sorry, Marietta!’

Her curly-haired friend's sleeve had caught fire; Marietta extinguished it with her own wand and glared at Harry as though it was his fault.

‘You made me nervous, I was doing all right before then!’ Cho told Harry ruefully.

‘That was quite good,’ Harry lied, but when she raised her eyebrows he said, ‘Well, no, it was lousy, but I know you can do it properly, I was watching from over there.’

She laughed. Her friend Marietta looked at them rather sourly and turned away.

‘Don't mind her,’ Cho muttered. ‘She doesn't really want to be here but I made her come with me. Her parents have forbidden her to do anything that might upset Umbridge. You see—her mum works for the Ministry.’

‘What about your parents?’ asked Harry.

‘Well, they've forbidden me to get on the wrong side of Umbridge, too,’ said Cho, drawing herself up proudly. ‘But if they think I'm not going to fight You-Know-Who after what happened to Cedric—’

She broke off, looking rather confused, and an awkward silence fell between them; Terry Boot's wand went whizzing past Harry's ear and hit Alicia Spinnet hard on the nose.

‘Well, my dad is very supportive of any anti-Ministry action!’ said Luna Lovegood proudly from just behind Harry; evidently she had been eavesdropping on his conversation while Justin Finch—'Fletchley attempted to disentangle himself from the robes that had flown up over his head. ‘He's always saying he'd believe anything of Fudge; I mean, the number of goblins Fudge has had assassinated! And of course he uses the Department of Mysteries to develop terrible poisons, which he secretly feeds to anybody who disagrees with him. And then there's his Umgubular Slashkilter—’

‘Don't ask,’ Harry muttered to Cho as she opened her mouth, looking puzzled. She giggled.

‘Hey, Harry,’ Hermione called from the other end of the room, ‘have you checked the time?’

He looked down at his watch and was shocked to see it was already ten past nine, which meant they needed to get back to their common rooms immediately or risk being caught and punished by Filch for being out of bounds. He blew his whistle; everybody stopped shouting ‘Expelliarmus’ and the last couple of wands clattered to the floor.

‘Well, that was pretty good,’ said Harry, ‘but we've overrun, we'd better leave it here. Same time, same place next week?’

‘Sooner!’ said Dean Thomas eagerly and many people nodded in agreement.

Angelina, however, said quickly, ‘The Quidditch season's about to start, we need team practices too!’

‘Let's say next Wednesday night, then,’ said Harry, ‘we can decide on additional meetings then. Come on, we'd better get going.’

He pulled out the Marauder's Map again and checked it carefully for signs of teachers on the seventh floor. He let them all leave in threes and fours, watching their tiny dots anxiously to see that they returned safely to their dormitories: the Hufflepuffs to the basement corridor that also led to the kitchens; the Ravenclaws to a tower on the west side of the castle, and the Gryffindors along the corridor to the Fat Lady's portrait.

‘That was really, really good, Harry,’ said Hermione, when finally it was just her, Harry and Ron who were left.

‘Yeah, it was!’ said Ron enthusiastically, as they slipped out of the door and watched it melt back into stone behind them. ‘Did you see me disarm Hermione, Harry?’

‘Only once,’ said Hermione, stung. ‘I got you loads more than you got me—’

‘I did not only get you once, I got you at least three times—’

‘Well, if you're counting the one where you tripped over your own feet and knocked the wand out of my hand—’

They argued all the way back to the common room, but Harry was not listening to them. He had one eye on the Marauder's Map, but he was also thinking of Cho saying he made her nervous.

第二十四号教育令

    这个周末余下的时光，哈利觉得比整个学期都开心。他和罗恩星期天花了不少时间赶家庭作业，虽然这很难说是乐趣，但秋天最后的灿烂阳光依旧照耀着，所以他们没有伏在公共休息室的书桌前，而是把作业拿到外面，坐在湖边一棵大山毛榉树底下。赫敏的功课当然都做完了，她又带了些毛线出来，对织针施了魔法，让它们在她身边咔哒咔哒地飞舞，织出更多的帽子和围巾。

    想到他们在反抗乌姆里奇和魔法部，自己是反叛的关键人物，哈利感到极大的满足。他不断地在脑子里重温星期六的聚会：那么多人来向他学习黑魔法防御术？？他们听了他的事迹之后的表情？？秋赞扬他在三强争霸赛中的表现？？大家没有把他当成说谎的怪物，而是当成钦佩的对象，这使他情绪高涨，直到星期一早晨还很兴奋，尽管还要上所有他最不喜欢的课。

    他和罗恩一起走下宿舍楼梯，一边讨论着安吉利娜的主意：在当晚的魁地奇-244　？比赛中练习树懒抱树滚①新招术。走到阳光明亮的公共休息室中间，他们才发现屋里多了点东西，它已经吸引了一小群人的注意。

    格兰芬多的布告栏上贴了一张大告示，大得盖住了布告栏上其他的一切——　拍卖二手咒语书的单子、阿格斯费尔奇定期提醒的校规、魁地奇球队训练日程、交换巧克力蛙画片的条子、韦斯莱兄弟找人做试验的新广告、到霍格莫德村过周末的日期，还有失物招领。新告示上印着大黑体字，底下有一个看上去很正式的印章，旁边是工整的花体签名。

    霍格沃茨高级调查官令兹解散一切学生组织、协会、团队和俱乐部。兹定义，组织、协会、团队和俱乐部指三名以上学生的定期集会。可向高级调查官（乌姆里奇教授）请求重组。未经高级调查官批准，不得存在任何学生组织、协会、团队和俱乐部。

    如发现有学生未经高级调查官批准而组建或参加任何组织、协会、团队和俱乐部。立即开除。

    以上条例符合《第二十四号教育令》。

    签名：高级调查官多洛雷斯简乌姆里奇哈利和罗恩越过一些二年级学生的头顶读着告示，那几人显得有些担忧。

    “　他们会关掉高布石俱乐部吗？”　其中一个问他的鹏友。“我想你们的高布石没事。”罗恩阴沉地说，把那二年级学生吓了一跳。“但我们可能不会那么幸运，你觉得呢？”他问哈利，二年级学生急忙走了。

    哈利重新读着告示，星期六以来满心的快乐消失了，他义愤填膺。“这不是巧合，”他攥着拳头说，“她知道了。”“不可能。”罗恩马上说。“酒吧里人多耳杂。正视事实吧，我们不知道在场的有多少人可以信任？？任何人都可能跑去向乌姆里奇告密？？”而他还以为他们相信他，甚至钦佩他？？-245　？“扎卡赖斯史密斯！”罗恩一拳砸在掌心里，“或是——　我觉得那个迈克尔科纳也有些鬼鬼祟祟的一”“不知道赫敏看了这个没有？”哈利扭头望望通往女生宿舍的门。“我们去告诉她。”罗恩说。他一个箭步跳过去，拉开门冲上了螺旋形的楼梯。

    他跑到第六级的时候出了事故。在一阵高音汽笛般的响声中，楼梯融化了，变成一条长长的、光溜溜的石滑梯。一刹那间，罗恩还想往前跑，胳膊像风车一样乱舞，然后他向后倒去，顺着新生成的滑梯倒栽下来，躺在哈利的脚下。

    “哦——　我想我们不能进入女生宿舍。”哈利忍着笑把罗恩拉了起来。

    两个四年级女生开心地从石滑梯上滑下。

    “哦，谁想上楼？”她们咯咯地笑着跳起来，眼睛盯着哈利和罗恩。

    “我，”罗恩说，他的衣服还乱着，“裁没想到会这样。这不公平！”他对哈利说，两个女生朝肖像洞口走去，还在略咯疯笑，“赫敏可以进我们宿舍，为什么不许我们——　？”

    “这是一条古板的规矩，”赫敏说，她雕轻轻巧巧地滑到他们面前的坐毯上。正在站起身来，“可是《霍格沃茨，一段校史》说学校刨始人认为男孩没有女孩可靠。好啦，你们为什么想进去？”

    “找你啊——　你看！”罗恩把她拽到布告栏前。

    赫敏的目光顺着告示迅速下移，面容凝重起来。

    “一定有人告密！”罗恩愤然道。

    “不可能。”赫敏低声说。

    “你太天真了，”罗恩说，“你以为就因为你是正直可靠的——　”

    “不，不可能，因为我在我们签字的那张羊皮纸上加了一个魔咒。”赫敏严肃地说，“相信我，如果有人去向乌姆里奇告密，我们准能知道，而且他们会真正后悔的。”

    “他们会怎么样？”罗恩急切地问。“这么说吧，它会让爱洛伊丝米德根的青春痘看上去像一些可爱的雀斑。”赫敏说，“走，我们去吃早饭，看看别人怎么想？？是不是所有学院都贴了？”

    一进礼堂他们就看出乌姆里奇的告示不仅贴在格兰芬多楼内。礼堂里有一种特殊的紧张气氛，叽叽喳喳，异常纷乱，人们跑来跑去谈论着看到的消息。哈利、罗恩和赫敏刚坐下，纳威、迪安、弗雷德、乔治、金妮就冲了过来。

    “你们看到了吗？”

    “你认为她知道了吗？”

    “我们怎么办？”

    他们都看着哈利。他朝四周扫了一眼，确保附近没有教师。

    -246　？“我们当然还是要干。”他小声道。

    “就知道你会这么说。”乔治眉开眼笑，重重地一拍哈利的胳膊。

    “级长们也要干吗？”弗雷德疑问地望着罗恩和赫敏。

    “当然。”赫敏冷静地说。

    “厄尼和汉娜艾博过来了，”罗恩回头看着，“还有拉文克劳的那些小子和史密斯？？谁也没长多少粉刺。”

    赫敏神色惊慌。

    “别管粉刺了，那些傻瓜现在不能过来，会显得可疑的——　坐下！”她用口型对厄尼和汉娜说，使劲打手势让他们坐回赫奇帕奇餐桌旁，“等会儿！我们——　等会儿——　再聊！”

    “我去告诉迈克尔，”金妮不耐烦地说，一甩腿跳下凳子，“这个笨蛋，真是？？”

    她快步走向拉文克劳的餐桌，哈利望着她。秋坐在不远处，正跟她带到猪头酒吧的那个鬈发女朋友聊天。乌姆里奇的告示会不会吓得她不敢来聚会呢？可是，直到他们离开餐厅去上魔法史课时才感受到告示的全面影响。

    “哈利！罗恩！”

    是安吉利娜，她匆匆走来，一脸的绝望。

    “没事，”等她走到足够近时，哈利小声说，“　我们还会——　'，”你发现她把魁地奇球也包括在内了吗？“安吉利娜盖过他的声音说，”我们得去请求重组格兰芬多球队！“

    “什么？”哈利说。

    “不可能。”罗恩震惊地叫道。

    “你们读了告示，上面提到团队！听着，哈利？？我说最后一遍？？求你，求你不要再跟乌姆里奇闹脾气，不然她可能再也不让我们比赛了！”

    “好，好，”哈利说，因为安吉利娜好像快要哭出来了，“别担心，我会注意的？？”

    “我敢打赌乌姆里奇在魔法史课上，”他们赶着去上课时，罗恩阴郁地说，“她还没有听过宾斯的课？？我可以拿一切打赌她在那儿？？”

    可是他错了，课堂上只有一位教师，就是宾斯教授。他像往常一样飘在他的座椅上方一英寸处，准备继续他那关于巨人战争的嗡嗡说教。哈利甚至没有试图去听他今天讲的内容，他在羊皮纸上信手涂画，不管赫敏多次的瞪眼和推搡，直到肋部特疼的一戳使他恼火地抬起头来。

    “干什么？”

    她指指窗外。哈利扭头一看，海德薇栖在窄窄的窗台上，透过厚厚的玻璃看着他，脚上系着一封信。哈利不明白，他们刚刚吃过早餐，它为什么不像往常一-247　？样在那时送信呢？许多同学也在指点着海德薇。

    “哦，我一直喜欢那只猫头鹰，它真漂亮。”哈利听见拉文德对帕瓦蒂赞叹说。

    他瞟了一眼讲台，宾斯教授继续安详地念着讲义，没发觉全班的注意力比平常更不集中在他身上。哈利悄悄溜下座位，猫着腰快步走到窗前，拨开窗钩，慢慢地打开窗户。

    他以为海德薇会伸脚让他把信取下，然后飞回猫头鹰棚屋，可是窗户一开到足够宽，它就跳了进来，哀叫着。他关上窗，担心地瞥了一跟宾斯教授，猫腰溜回座位，海德薇蹲在他的肩头。他坐下后，把海德薇放到腿上，开始取它脚上的信。

    这时他才发现海德薇的羽毛异常蓬乱，有的倒折着。赫敏和罗恩凑过来，赫敏甚至放下了她的羽毛笔。“看——　它的翅膀不对劲——　”　海德薇在颤抖，哈利碰到她的翅膀时，它惊跳了一下，羽毛全部竖起来，好像充了气一般，它责怪地看着他。“宾斯教授，”哈利大声说，全班都回过头来，“我不舒服。”　宾斯教授从讲义上抬起眼睛，像往常一样似乎很惊讶，发现屋子里坐满了人。

    “不舒服？”他恍惚地重复道。

    “很不舒服，”哈利坚定地说，把海德薇藏在身后站了起来，“我想我需要去校医院。”

    “对，”宾斯教授显然有些手足无措，“对？？对，校医院？？好，那你去吧，珀金斯？？”

    一出教室，哈利就把海德薇放回肩头，沿着走廊疾行，直到看不见宾斯的门才停下来思考。他想到的给海德薇疗伤的第一人选当然是海格，但是不知道海格在哪儿，惟一的选择只有去找格拉普兰教授，希望她能帮忙。

    他透过窗户朝狂风大作、阴云笼罩的场地上张望着。海格的小屋附近看不到她的踪影，如果没在上课，她可能在教师办公室。他往楼下跑去，海德薇在他肩上摇晃，微弱地叫着。

    教师办公室门口立着一对石兽，哈利走近时，其中一头声音沙哑地说：“你该在教室里，快乐的吉姆。”

    “迫不得已。”哈利简短地答道。

    “哦，迫不得已，是吗？”另一只石兽尖声说，“我们在这儿也是如此，对不对？”

    哈利敲敲门，脚步声响起，门开了，站在他面前的是麦格教授。

    “你不会又被关禁闭了吧！”她一见他就说，方眼镜片闪着震惊的光。

    “没有，教授！”哈利急忙说。

    “那你为什么没上课？”

    “显然是迫不得已。”第二只石兽讥讽道。

    -248　？“我想找格拉普兰教授，”哈利解释道，“我的猫头鹰受伤了。”　“受伤的猫头鹰？”　格拉普兰教授出现在麦格教授身旁，吸着烟斗，手拿一份《预言家日报》。“是的，”哈利小心地把海德薇从肩上举了起来，“它比其他猫头鹰到得都晚，而且它的翅膀有问题，看——　”　格拉普兰教授把烟斗紧紧咬在嘴里，从哈利手中接过海德薇，麦格教授在一旁看着。

    “嗯，”格拉普兰教授说，嘴里的烟斗一动一动的，“看来它遭到了袭击，可是想不出会是什么东西？？　当然，　夜骐④有时会袭击鸟类，　但霍格沃茨的夜骐已经被海格训练过，不会袭击猫头鹰？？”

    哈利既不知道也不关心夜骐是什么，他只想知道海德薇有没有事。但麦格教授锐利地看着哈利说：“你知道这只猫头鹰飞了多远吗，波特？”　“嗯，”哈利说，“是从伦敦飞过来的吧，我想。”

    他匆匆接触到她的目光，从她眉心拧起的样子看出，她把“伦敦”理解为“格里莫广场12号”了。

    格拉普兰教授从袍子里抽出一只镜片，安到她的眼睛上，仔细检查海德薇的翅膀。“如果你把它留在我这儿，我应该可以查清楚，波特。”她说，“反正它几天内不应长途飞行。”

    “呃——　好的——　谢谢。”哈利说，这时下课铃响了。

    “没什么。”格拉普兰教授粗声说道，转身走进了教师办公室。

    “等会儿，威尔米娜②！”麦格教授叫道，“波特的信！”

    “哦，　对了！”哈利说，他一时忘了系在海德薇脚上的纸卷。格拉普兰教授把它递了过来，带着海德薇消失在屋内。海德薇一直耵着哈利，　似乎不能相信他会这样把它交出去。他有点内疚地转身离开，但麦格教授把他叫住了。

    “波特！”

    “是，教授？”

    她朝走廊上看看，两头都有学生走来。

    “记住，”她小声急促地说，眼睛望着他手里的纸卷，“霍格沃茨内外的通信渠道可能被监视了，知道吗？”

    “我——　”哈利说，　但走廊上的人流几乎已涌到他身边。麦格教授简单地对他点点头，退回屋里，哈利被人群裹挟着走到外面，看到罗恩和赫敏已经站在一①夜骐，又译黑魔星，关于这种神奇动物的详细描写，请见《神奇动物在哪里》一书，人民文学出版社，2001年lO月版。

    ②格拉普兰教授的名字。

    -249　？个有遮盖的角落，斗篷领子竖着，以此来挡风。哈利快步向他们走去，一边撕开纸卷，看到了小天狼星的字迹：今天，老时间，老地方。

    “海德薇没事吧？”他一走近，赫敏就焦急地问。

    “你把它弄哪儿去了？”罗恩问。

    “交给了格拉普兰，”哈利说，“我还碰到了麦格？？听着？？”他转述了麦格教授的话，令他奇怪的是，两人都没显得震惊，而是意味深长地交换了一下眼色。“怎么？”哈利来回地看着罗恩和赫敏。“我刚才还对罗恩讲？？会不会有人拦截海德薇？它以前从没在飞行中受过伤，是不是？”

    “到底是谁的信？”罗恩把纸条抓了过去。

    “伤风的。”哈利小声说。

    “‘老时间，老地方’？他是不是指公共休息室的壁炉？”

    “显然，”赫敏也在看着纸条，表情有点不安，“但愿没人看过这信？？”

    “它还封得好好的，”哈利说，试图安慰她，也是想说服自己，“而且没人看得懂，　除非他们知道我们上次在哪儿跟他说的话，　是不是？”

    “我没把握，”赫敏担忧地说，把书包甩到肩上，因为铃声又响了，“用魔法重新封上纸卷并不很难？？要是再有人监视飞路网？？可是我不知道怎么警告他不要来才能不被拦截！”

    他们沉重地走下地下教室的石阶去上魔药课，三人都在沉思，可是下到底层时，他们被德拉科。马尔福的声音唤醒了。他正站在斯内普教室门外，挥舞着一张公文样的羊皮纸，提高了嗓门在嚷嚷，他们听得清清楚楚。

    “没错，乌姆里奇让斯莱特林魁地奇球队继续活动，我今天一早去问她的。嘿，这事办起来简直跟自动的一样。跟你说吧，她和我爸爸很熟，我爸经常出入魔法部？？　格兰芬多能不能继续活动就有的瞧了，　是不是？”

    “别发火，”赫敏恳求地对哈利和罗恩说，他们俩都瞪着马尔福，脸色铁青，握着拳头，“他就想激你们？？”

    “我是说，”马尔福又提高了一些嗓门，灰眼睛恶意地朝哈利和罗恩这边闪着，“要论对魔法部的影响，我觉得他们没什么机会？？据我爸说，部里这些年一直在找理由撤掉亚瑟韦斯莱？？至于波特嘛？？我爸说部里把他送到圣芒戈去只是迟早的事？？他们显然有个特殊病房，专收脑子被魔法搞坏的人？？”

    马尔福扮出～副怪相，嘴拉得老长，眼珠转来转去。克拉布和高尔像往常一-250　？什么东西猛地撞到哈利肩上，把他撞到了一边。一刹那间，他意识到纳威从他身边冲了过去，直奔马尔福。

    “纳威，不要！”

    哈利一个箭步抓住纳威袍子的后摆，纳威疯狂地挣扎，挥着拳头，拼命想去揍马尔福。马尔福一时显得惊骇万分。

    “帮帮我！”哈利对罗恩喊道，他一只胳膊搂住纳威的脖子，要把他往后拖离斯莱特林那帮人。克拉布和高尔现在也捋起了胳膊，护在马尔福身前，准备打架。罗恩急忙上前抓住纳威的手臂，和哈利一起把他拖回格兰芬多这边。纳威脸涨得通红，哈利加在他脖子上的力量使得他话语不清，但他嘴里还是蹦出了一些字眼。

    “不是？？开玩笑？？不要？？芒戈？？教训？？他？？”地下教室的门开了，斯内普站在那儿，他的黑眼珠扫向格兰芬多这边，看到哈利、罗恩和纳威扭在一起。“打架，波特、韦斯莱、隆巴顿？”斯内普用他那冷冰冰的、讥讽的语调说，“格兰芬多扣十分。放开隆巴顿，波特，不然就关禁闭。全部进教室。”

    哈利放开手，纳威站在那儿喘气，对他怒目而视。

    “我必须拦着你，”哈利气喘吁吁地说，一边拾起书包，“克拉布和高尔会把你撕碎的。”

    纳威没说话，抓起他自己的书包，大步走进地下教室。

    “看在老天的分儿上，”他们跟在纳威后面，罗恩迟钝地说，“这是怎么回事？”

    哈利没有回答，他了解为什么纳威最听不得脑子被魔法搞坏而进圣芒戈的话，但他对邓布利多发过誓不把纳威的秘密告诉任何人。就连纳威也不知道哈利是知情人。

    哈利、罗恩和赫敏在教室后排的老位子上坐下来，抽出羊皮纸、羽毛笔和《千种神奇草药及蕈类》课本。周围的同学都在交头接耳地议论纳威刚才的行为，但当斯内普关上地下教室的门、发出重重的回响时，全班顿时肃静下来。

    “大家会发现，”斯内普用他那低沉的、讥讽的语调说，“我们今天有一位客人。”

    他朝昏暗的角落一指，哈利看到乌姆里奇教授坐在那儿，腿上放着写字板。他瞟瞟罗恩和赫敏，扬了扬眉毛。斯内普和乌姆里奇，他最讨厌的两个老师？？难以决定他希望谁占上风。

    “今天继续配增强剂，你们会看到自己上节课留下的混合液，如果配得对，过了个周末应该成了。操作方法——　”他又挥起魔杖，“——　在黑板上。开始。”乌姆里奇教授前半小时都在角落里记笔记。哈利一心想听她向斯内普提问，以至于配药时又粗心大意了。

    -251　？“火蜥蜴①血，哈利！”赫敏叫道，抓着他的手腕，不让他第三次加错成分。“不是石榴汁！”

    “好的。”哈利心不在焉地说，放下瓶子，继续注视着角落里，乌姆里奇刚刚站起来。“哈。”他轻声说。只见乌姆里奇从两排桌子间走向斯内普，此时斯内普正在俯身查看迪安托马斯的坩埚。

    “哎呀，这个班看来学得相当深嘛，”她轻快地对着斯内普的后背说，“但我怀疑教他们增强剂这样的药剂是否可取。我想部里会希望把它从课程中删掉的。”斯内普缓缓直起腰，转身看着她。“现在？？你在霍格沃茨教课有多久了？”她问，羽毛笔做好了在写字板上记录的准备。“十四年。”斯内普的表情深不可测。哈利紧紧盯着他，加了几滴液体，药水发出可怕的咝咝声，由青绿变成了橘黄。

    “你先申请任教黑魔法防御术课，是不是？”乌姆里奇教授问斯内普。

    “是的。”斯内普低声说。

    “但没申请到？”

    斯内普撇着嘴。

    “显而易见。”

    乌姆里奇教授在写字板上刷刷地写着。

    “你进校以来多次申请任教黑魔法防御术课，是不是？”

    “是的。”斯内普低声说，嘴唇几乎不动。他看上去很恼火。

    “你知道邓布利多为什么屡次拒绝用你吗？”乌姆里奇问。

    “我建议你去问他。”斯内普生硬地答道。

    “我会的。”乌姆里奇教授笑容可掬地说。

    “这有关系吗？”斯内普问，他的黑眼睛眯缝起来。

    “有啊，”乌姆里奇教授说，“部里希望全面了解教师的——　呃——　背景。”

    她转身走开，踱到潘西帕金森身边，开始向她询问课程情况。斯内普回头看看哈利，两人视线短暂相交，哈利急忙垂下眼看他的药水，它现在已经凝结成污浊不堪的一体，发出一股冲鼻的橡胶烧糊了的气味。

    “又是零分，波特。”斯内普恶狠狠地说，魔杖一挥清空了哈利的坩埚，“你给我写一篇这种药剂正确配制的文章，注明你错在哪儿，为什么错，下节课交上来，昕懂了吗？”

    “听懂了。”哈利愤怒地说。斯内普已经给他们布置了作业，他今晚还有魁地奇球训练，这意味着又得熬两个通宵。简直不能相信他今天早上醒来感觉还非①关于火蜥蜴的详细描写，请见《神奇动物在哪里》一书，人民文学出版社，2001年10月版。

    -252　？常快乐呢，他现在只盼着这一天赶快结束。

    “我也许要逃占卜课了，”午饭后他们又站在院子里时，他沮丧地说，风掀着袍摆和帽檐，“装病赶写斯内普的文章，免得熬夜？？”

    “你不能逃占卜课。”赫敏正色说。

    “听听谁在说话，你自己走出了占卜课的课堂，你恨特里劳妮！”罗恩打抱不平。

    “我不恨她，”赫敏高傲地说，“我只觉得她是个可怕的老师，一个真正的老骗子？？但哈利已经少上了魔法史课，我觉得他今天不应该再缺课了！”

    这话中的实情不容忽视，所以半小时后，哈利坐到了占卜课那热烘烘、散发着一股香水味的课堂上，生着所有人的气。特里劳妮教授又在发《解梦指南》的课本，写斯内普罚做的文章肯定比坐在这里琢磨一堆编造的梦好得多。

    然而，他不是占卜课上惟一一个没好气的人。特里劳妮把一本《解梦指南》掼在哈利和罗恩的桌子上，嘟着嘴大步走开，把下一本《解梦指南》朝西莫和迪安扔去，差点砸到了西莫的脑袋，又把最后一本塞到纳威胸前，推得他从凳子上滑了下去。

    “好了，开始吧！”特里劳妮教授大声说，声音尖得有点歇斯底里，“你们知道该干什么！难道我教得有那么差劲，你们都没学会打开课本吗？”

    全班同学困惑地看着她，面面相觑。但哈利认为他知道是怎么回事。特里劳妮教授怒冲冲地走回高背教师椅，被镜片放大的眼睛里盈满愤怒的泪水。哈利把脑袋凑向罗恩，小声说：“我想她收到了调查结果。”

    “教授？”帕瓦蒂佩蒂尔小声问（她和拉文德一直相当钦佩特里劳妮教授），“教授，有什么——　不对吗？”

    “不对！”特里劳妮教授叫起来，声音激动得直发抖，“当然没有！我受了侮辱？？含沙射影？？毫无根据的指责？？但是没有不对，当然没有？？”她颤抖地深吸了一口气，扭过脸去，愤怒的泪水从眼镜下涌了出来。“我不提，”她哽咽道，“十六年兢兢业业？？显然没人注意？？但我不应该受到侮辱，不应该！”

    “可是教授，谁在侮辱您呢？”帕瓦蒂怯怯地问。

    “当权者！”特里劳妮教授用戏剧般的低沉颤抖的声音说，“那些眼睛被世俗蒙蔽，不能见我所见，知我所知的人？？当然，我们这些先知总是让人害怕，总是受迫害？？这是——　唉——　我们的命？？”

    她哽噎了，用披肩角擦擦湿漉漉的面颊，从袖子里抽出一块小绣花手帕，使劲地擤鼻子，声音就像皮皮鬼发出的呸呸声。罗恩偷偷地笑。拉文德鄙夷地瞪了他一眼。

    “教授，”帕瓦蒂说，“您是说？？是不是乌姆里奇教授？？？”

    -253　？“别对我提那个女人！”特里劳妮教授大喊一声，跳了起来，脑袋摇得像拨浪鼓，眼镜片一闪一闪的，“请你们做作业！”

    余下的时间她在班里走来走去，眼镜后还有泪水滴下，并不时地喃喃自语，好像在威胁谁。

    “？？干脆辞职算了？？这种耻辱？？留用察看？？走着瞧？？看她敢不敢？？”

    “你和乌姆里奇有一点相同，”他们在黑魔法防御术课上会合时，哈利悄悄对赫敏说，“她显然也认为特里劳妮是个老骗子？？好像让她留用察看了。”

    说话间乌姆里奇走进教室，戴着她的黑天鹅绒蝴蝶结，踌躇满志。

    “下午好，同学们。”

    “下午好，乌姆里奇教授。”大家拖腔拖调地说。

    “请收起魔杖？？”

    但这次没有一片慌乱，因为根本没人把魔杖拿出来。

    “请翻到《魔法防御理论》第三十四页，读第三章‘对魔法袭击采取非进攻性反应的理由’，看书时——　”　“　——　请不要讲话。”哈利、罗恩和赫敏在嗓子眼里说。“没有魁地奇球训练了。”晚饭后哈利、罗恩和赫敏走进公共休息室时，安吉利娜声音空洞地说。“可是我很克制！”哈利说，显得十分震惊，“我没对她说什么，安吉利娜，我发誓——　”

    “我知道，我知道，”安吉利娜痛苦地说，“她只说她还要考虑考虑。”

    “考虑什么？”罗恩愤然说道，“她批准了斯莱特林，凭什么不批准我们？”

    但哈利能想象出来乌姆里奇多么喜欢把格兰芬多魁地奇球队作为悬在他们头上的威胁，她当然不愿意过早放弃这个武器。

    “算啦，”赫敏说，“往好的方面想吧——　至少你有时问写斯内普的文章了！”

    “这是好的方面？”哈利抢白道，罗恩难以置信地望着赫敏，“没有魁地奇球训练，魔药课又罚作业！”

    哈利跌坐到椅子上，不情愿地从书包里抽出魔药课的论文开始写作。

    很难集中思想，尽管他知道小天狼星在火中现身还早，但还是忍不住过几分钟就朝火里看看。屋子里吵得要命：弗雷德和乔治好像终于完善了一种速效逃课糖，正在向起哄喝彩的人群演示。

    弗雷德先咬橘黄色的一头，马上大口呕吐起来，吐进摆在他面前的桶里，然后又强咽下紫色的一头，呕吐立刻停止。每过一阵，李。乔丹便懒洋洋地清空呕吐物，用的是斯内普常对哈利的药水使用的消失咒。

    -254　？呕吐声、喝彩声，人们纷纷向弗雷德和乔治订货，哈利简直没法集中思想写增强剂的正确配方。赫敏也不帮忙，欢呼声和呕吐物落到桶底的声音问夹杂着赫敏不满的冷笑，哈利觉得这更让人分神。

    “去阻止他们好了！”他烦躁地说，第四次划去写错的狮身鹰首兽爪粉的分量。

    “我不能，他们技术上没有犯任何错误，”赫敏咬着牙说，“吃脏东西是他们自己的权利，我也找不到一条规定说别的傻瓜不能买它，除非能证明它有危险。可看上去并没有？？”

    她和哈利、罗恩看着乔治把呕吐物喷射到桶里，吞下剩下的糖，直起身来微笑着张开手臂，博得长长的喝彩。

    “我不知道弗雷德和乔治为什么都只得了三门0.w.Ls证书，”哈利看着弗雷德、乔治和李从热切的人群中收金币，“他们学得不错嘛？？”“哦，他们只会一些没用的花哨东西。”赫敏轻蔑地说。“没用？”罗恩怪叫道，“赫敏，他们已经收了二十六个加隆了。”

    韦斯莱兄弟周围的人群很晚才散去，然后弗雷德、李和乔治又坐在那里数钱，午夜过后很久，罗恩和赫敏总算可以享有公共休息室的清静了。弗雷德终于关上了通往男生宿舍的门，炫耀地摇着他的钱盒子，惹得赫敏皱起眉头。哈利的文章没写几个字，他决定今晚放弃了。他收拾书本的时候，在扶手椅上打瞌睡的罗恩哼了一声醒过来，　迷糊地望着火焰说：“小天狼星！”

    哈利迅速转身，小天狼星那乱莲蓬的黑脑袋又出现在火中。

    “你们好！”他笑嘻嘻地说。

    “你好！”哈利、罗恩和赫敏同声说，三人都跪到壁炉前的地毯上。克鲁克山喵喵叫着凑近炉火，不顾灼热，想去亲小天狼星的脸。

    “情况怎么样？”小天狼星问。

    “不大好，”哈利说，赫敏把克鲁克山拉了回来，免得它烤焦胡须，“部里又出了个法令，意味着我们不能有魁地奇球队了——　”

    “——　还有黑魔法防御小组？”小天狼星说。

    片刻沉默。

    “你怎么知道的？”哈利问。

    “你们选聚会地点时要更谨慎些，”小天狼星的嘴咧得更开了，“猪头酒吧，我问你？？”

    “总比三把扫帚强吧！”赫敏辩解道，“那儿总是挤满了人——　'‘”——　那才不容易偷听呀，“小天狼星说，”你要学的东西还很多，赫敏。“

    “谁偷听了我们？”赫敏问。

    “当然是蒙顿格斯，”小天狼星说，看到三人疑惑的样子，他笑了起来，“就是-255　？那个披着长纱巾的女巫。”

    “那是蒙顿格斯？”哈利问，不觉惊呆了，“他在猪头酒吧干什么？”

    “你说他在于什么？”小天狼星不耐烦地说，“自然是监视你们了。”

    “还有人在跟踪我？”哈利愤怒地问。“对，是这样，”小天狼星说，“而且很有必要，是不是？如果你周末放假做的第一件事就是组织一个非法的防御小组。”但他看上去既不生气也不着急，相反，他望着哈利的目光中带着明显的自豪。“顿格为什么躲着我们？”罗恩失望地问，“我们愿意见到他。”

    “他二十年前被禁止进猪头酒吧，那个男招待记性好极了。斯多吉被捕时我们丢掉了穆迪的隐形衣，所以顿格近来常扮成女巫？？好了？？首先，罗恩——　我向你妈妈发了誓要转达她的口信。”

    “啊？说吧。”罗恩有些害怕。

    “她叫你无论如何不要参加非法的黑魔法防御小组。她说你肯定会被开除，毁了你的前程。她说以后有的是时问可以学习防御术，你现在想那些还太早。她也——　”小天狼星的目光转向了另外两人，“——　劝哈利和赫敏不要搞这个小组，虽然她承认自己没有资格这样要求你们，但她只求你们记得，她是为你们好。她本想写信，但如果猫头鹰被抓，你们就倒霉了，她也不能自己来说，因为她今晚值班。”

    “值什么班？”罗恩忙问。“别担心，只是凤凰社的事，所以我就当了信使，别忘了告诉她我把口信带到了，因为我感觉她不大信任我。”又是一阵沉默，克鲁克山喵喵地想去抓小天狼星的脑袋，罗恩抠着地毯上的一个小洞。“这么说，你是想让我说不参加防御小组？”他终于开口喃喃地问道。

    “我？当然不是！”小天狼星惊讶地说，“我觉得这是个好主意！”

    “真的？”哈利说，一下子振奋起来。

    “当然啦！”小天狼星说，“你想你爸爸和我会俯首听乌姆里奇那老妖婆的命令吗？”

    “可是——　上学期你总叫我小心，别冒险——　”

    “上学期是霍格沃茨校内有人想杀你，哈利！”小天狼星不耐烦地说，“这学期我们知道霍格沃茨校外有人想把我们都干掉，所以我想学习自卫是很好的主意！”

    “如果真被开除了呢？”赫敏的脸上带着疑问。

    “赫敏，这件事都是你的主意！”哈利瞪着她说。

    -256　？“我知道？？我只是想听听小天狼星的看法。”她耸耸肩说。“宁可为自卫而被开除，也比安全地坐在学校里两眼一摸黑强。”小天狼星说。“听见了吧，听见了吧。”哈利和罗恩热烈欢呼。“那么，你们如何组织这个小组？在哪儿聚会？”

    “现在有点麻烦，”哈利说，“不知道能去哪儿？？”“尖叫棚屋怎么样？”小天狼星提议道。“嘿，这主意不错！”罗恩兴奋地说，但赫敏发出了怀疑声，三人都扭头看她，小天狼星的脑袋在火里转动着。

    “小天狼星，你在学校那会儿，只有你们四个人在尖叫棚屋碰头，”赫敏说，“你们都能变成动物，而且我想如果愿意的话，你们可以挤进一件隐形衣里。可是我们有二十八个人，都不会变动物，所以我们需要的不是一件隐形衣，而是一顶隐形大帐篷——　”

    “言之有理，”小天狼星说，看上去有点气馁，“我想你们会找到一个地方的？？五楼的大镜子后面以前有一个挺大的秘密通道，够你们练习魔咒的——　”　“弗雷德和乔治说给堵上了，”哈利摇摇头说，“好像是塌了。”

    “哦？？”小天狼星皱眉道，“好吧，我想想再——　”　他的话音断了，脸色突然变得紧张而惊恐。他转过头，似乎在朝壁炉的砖墙里看。“小天狼星？”哈利担心地说。

可是他已经消失了。哈利对着火苗愣了片刻，转身看着罗恩和赫敏。“他怎么——　？”　赫敏惊叫一声，跳了起来，眼睛还盯着火里。火里出现了一只手，摸索着像要抓住什么东西，一只五指短粗的手，戴满难看的老式戒指？？三人吓得撒腿就跑，在男生宿舍门口哈利回头看了一眼。乌姆里奇的手还在火焰中乱抓，好像她知道小天狼星的头刚才就在那里，决心要抓住它似的。

Educational Decree Number Twenty-four

Harry felt happier for the rest of the weekend than he had done all term. He and Ron spent much of Sunday catching up with all their homework again, and although this could hardly be called fun, the last burst of autumn sunshine persisted, so rather than sitting hunched over tables in the common room they took their work outside and lounged in the shade of a large beech tree on the edge of the lake. Hermione, who of course was up to date with all her work, brought more wool outside with her and bewitched her knitting needles so that they flashed and clicked in midair beside her, producing more hats and scarves.
Knowing they were doing something to resist Umbridge and the Ministry and that he was a key part of the rebellion, gave Harry a feeling of immense satisfaction. He kept reliving Saturdays meeting in his mind: all those people, coming to him to learn Defence Against the Dark Arts ... and the looks on their faces as they had heard some of the things he had done ... and Cho praising his performance in the Triwizard Tournament—knowing all those people did not think him a lying weirdo, but someone to be admired, buoyed him up so much that he was still cheerful on Monday morning, despite the imminent prospect of all his least favourite classes.
He and Ron headed downstairs from their dormitory, discussing Angelina's idea that they were to work on a new move called the Sloth Grip Roll during that nights Quidditch practice, and not until they were halfway across the sunlit common room did they notice the addition to the room that had already attracted the attention of a small group of people.
A large sign had been affixed to the Grffindor noticeboard, so large it covered everything else on it—the lists of secondhand spellbooks for sale, the regular reminders of school rules from Argus Filch, the Quidditch team training timetable, the offers to barter certain Chocolate Frog Cards for others, the Weasleys’ latest advertisement for testers, the dates of the Hogsmeade weekends and the lost and found notices. The new sign was printed in large black letters and there was a highly official-looking seal at the bottom beside a neat and curly signature.
BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS
All student organisations, societies, teams, groups and clubs are
henceforth disbanded.

An organisation, society, team, group or club is hereby defined
as a regular meeting of three or more students.

Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor
(Professor Umbridge).

No student organisation, society, team, group or club may exist
without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor.

Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an organisation,
society, team, group or club that has not been approved by
the High Inquisitor will be expelled.

The above is in accordance with Educational Decree
Number Twenty-four.

Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor
Harry and Ron read the notice over the heads of some anxious-looking second-years.
‘Does this mean they're going to shut down the Gobstones Club?’ one of them asked his friend.
‘I reckon you'll be OK with Gobstones,’ Ron said darkly, making the second-year jump. ‘I don't think we're going to be as lucky, though, do you?’ he asked Harry as the second-years hurried away.
Harry was reading the notice through again. The happiness that had filled him since Saturday was gone. His insides were pulsing with rage.
‘This isn't a coincidence,’ he said, his hands forming fists. ‘She knows.’
‘She can't,’ said Ron at once.
‘There were people listening in that pub. And let's face it, we don't know how many of the people who turned up we can trust ... any of them could have run off and told Umbridge ...’
And he had thought they believed him, thought they even admired him ...
‘Zacharias Smith!’ said Ron at once, punching a fist into his hand. ‘Or—I thought that Michael Corner had a really shifty look, too—’
‘I wonder if Hermione's seen this yet?’ Harry said, looking round at the door to the girls’ dormitories.
‘Let's go and tell her,’ said Ron. He bounded forwards, pulled open the door and set off up the spiral staircase.
He was on the sixth stair when there was a loud, wailing, klaxon-like sound and the steps melted together to make a long, smooth stone slide like a helter-skelter. There was a brief moment when Ron tried to keep running, arms working madly like windmills, then he toppled over backwards and shot down the newly created slide, coming to rest on his back at Harry's feet.
‘Er—I don't think we're allowed in the girls’ dormitories,’ said Harry, pulling Ron to his feet and trying not to laugh.
Two fourth-year girls came zooming gleefully down the stone slide.
‘Oooh. who tried to get upstairs?’ they giggled happily, leaping to their feet and ogling Harry and Ron.
‘Me,’ said Ron, who was still rather dishevelled. ‘I didn't realise that would happen. It's not fair!’ he added to Harry, as the girls headed off for the portrait hole, still giggling madly. ‘Hermione's allowed in our dormitory, how come we're not allowed —?’
‘Well, it's an old-fashioned rule,’ said Hermione, who had just slid neatly on to a rug in front of them and was now getting to her feet, ‘but it says in Hogwarts: A History, that the founders thought boys were less trustworthy than girls. Anyway, why were you trying to get in there?’
‘To see you—look at this!’ said Ron, dragging her over to the noticeboard.
Hermione's eyes slid rapidly down the notice. Her expression became stony.
‘Someone must have blabbed to her!’ Ron said angrily.
‘They can't have done,’ said Hermione in a low voice.
‘You're so naive,’ said Ron, ‘you think just because you're all honourable and trustworthy —’
‘No, they can't have done, because I put a jinx on that piece of parchment we all signed,’ said Hermione grimly. ‘Believe me, if anyone's run off and told Umbridge, we'll know exactly who they are and they will really regret it.’
‘What'll happen to them?’ said Ron eagerly.
‘Well, put it this way,’ said Hermione, ‘it'll make Eloise Midgeon's acne look like a couple of cute freckles. Come on, let's get down to breakfast and see what the others think ... I wonder whether this has been put up in all the houses?’
It was immediately apparent on entering the Great Hall that Umbridge's sign had not only appeared in Gryffindor Tower. There was a peculiar intensity about the chatter and an extra measure of movement in the Hall as people scurried up and down their tables conferring on what they had read. Harry, Ron and Hermione had barely taken their seats when Neville, Dean, Fred, George and Ginny descended upon them.
‘Did you see it?’
‘D'you reckon she knows?’
‘What are we going to do?’
They were all looking at Harry. He glanced around to make sure there were no teachers near them.
‘We're going to do it anyway, of course,’ he said quietly.
‘Knew you'd say that,’ said George, beaming and thumping Harry on the arm.
‘The prefects as well?’ said Fred, looking quizzically at Ron and Hermione.
‘Of course,’ said Hermione coolly.
‘Here come Ernie and Hannah Abbott,’ said Ron, looking over his shoulder. ‘And those Ravenclaw blokes and Smith ... and no one looks very spotty.’
Hermione looked alarmed.
‘Never mind spots, the idiots can't come over here now, it'll look really suspicious—sit down!’ she mouthed to Ernie and Hannah, gesturing frantically to them to rejoin the Hufflepuff table. ‘Later! We'll—talk—to—you—later!’
‘I'll tell Michael,’ said Ginny impatiently, swinging herself off her bench, ‘the fool, honestly ...’
She hurried off towards the Ravenclaw table; Harry watched her go. Cho was sitting not far away, talking to the curly-haired friend she had brought along to the Hog's Head. Would Umbridge's notice scare her off meeting them again?
But the full repercussions of the sign were not felt until they were leaving the Great Hall for History of Magic.
‘Harry! Ron!’
It was Angelina and she was hurrying towards them looking perfectly desperate.
‘It's OK,’ said Harry quietly, when she was near enough to hear him. ‘We're still going to—’
‘You realise she's including Quidditch in this?’ Angelina said over him. ‘We have to go and ask permission to re-form the Gryffindor team!’
‘What?’ said Harry.
‘No way,’ said Ron, appalled.
‘You read the sign, it mentions teams too! So listen, Harry ... I am saying this for the last time ... please, please don't lose your temper with Umbridge again or she might not let us play any more!’
‘OK, OK,’ said Harry, for Angelina looked as though she was on the verge of tears. ‘Don't worry, I'll behave myself ...’
‘Bet Umbridge is in History of Magic,’ said Ron grimly, as they set off for Binns's lesson. ‘She hasn't inspected Binns yet ... bet you anything she's there ...’
But he was wrong; the only teacher present when they entered was Professor Binns, floating an inch or so above his chair as usual and preparing to continue his monotonous drone on giant wars. Harry did not even attempt to follow what he was saying today; he doodled idly on his parchment ignoring Hermione's frequent glares and nudges, until a particularly painful poke in the ribs made him look up angrily.
‘What?’
She pointed at the window. Harry looked round. Hedwig was perched on the narrow window ledge, gazing through the thick glass at him, a letter tied to her leg. Harry could not understand it; they had just had breakfast, why on earth hadn't she delivered the letter then, as usual? Many of his classmates were pointing out Hedwig to each other, too.
‘Oh, I've always loved that owl, she's so beautiful,’ Harry heard Lavender sigh to Parvati.
He glanced round at Professor Binns who continued to read his notes, serenely unaware that the class's attention was even less focused upon him than usual. Harry slipped quietly off his chair, crouched down and hurried along the row to the window, where he slid the catch and opened it very slowly.
He had expected Hedwig to hold out her leg so that he could remove the letter and then fly off to the Owlery, but the moment the window was open wide enough she hopped inside, hooting dolefully. He closed the window with an anxious glance at Professor Binns, crouched low again and sped back to his seat with Hedwig on his shoulder. He regained his seat, transferred Hedwig to his lap and made to remove the letter tied to her leg.
Only then did he realise that Hedwig's feathers were oddly ruffled; some were bent the wrong way, and she was holding one of her wings at an odd angle.
‘She's hurt!’ Harry whispered, bending his head low over her. Hermione and Ron leaned in closer; Hermione even put down her quill. ‘Look—there's something wrong with her wing—’
Hedwig was quivering; when Harry made to touch the wing she gave a little jump, all her feathers on end as though she was inflating herself, and gazed at him reproachfully.
‘Professor Binns,’ said Harry loudly, and everyone in the class turned to look at him. ‘I'm not feeling well.’
Professor Binns raised his eyes from his notes, looking amazed, as always, to find the room in front of him full of people.
‘Not feeling well?’ he repeated hazily.
‘Not at all well,’ said Harry firmly, getting to his feet with Hedwig concealed behind his back. ‘I think I need to go to the hospital wing.’
‘Yes,’ said Professor Binns, clearly very much wrong-footed. ‘Yes ... yes, hospital wing ... well, off you go, then, Perkins ...’
Once outside the room, Harry returned Hedwig to his shoulder and hurried off up the corridor, pausing to think only when he was out of sight of Binns's door. His first choice of somebody to cure Hedwig would have been Hagrid, of course, but as he had no idea where Hagrid was his only remaining option was to find Professor Grubbly-Plank and hope she would help.
He peered out of a window at the blustery, overcast grounds. There was no sign of her anywhere near Hagrid's cabin; if she was not teaching, she was probably in the staff room. He set off downstairs, Hedwig hooting feebly as she swayed on his shoulder.
Two stone gargoyles flanked the staff-room door. As Harry approached, one of them croaked, ‘You should be in class, Sonny Jim.’
‘This is urgent,’ said Harry curtly.
‘Ooooh, urgent, is it?’ said the other gargoyle in a high-pitched voice. ‘Well, that's put us in our place, hasn't it?’
Harry knocked. He heard footsteps, then the door opened and he found himself face to face with Professor McGonagall.
‘You haven't been given another detention!’ she said at once, her square spectacles flashing alarmingly.
‘No, Professor!’ said Harry hastily.
‘Well then, why are you out of class?’
‘It's urgent, apparently,’ said the second gargoyle snidely.
‘I'm looking for Professor Grubbly-Plank,’ Harry explained. ‘It's my owl, she's injured.’
‘Injured owl, did you say?’
Professor Grubbly-Plank appeared at Professor McGonagall's shoulder, smoking a pipe and holding a copy of the Daily Prophet.
‘Yes,’ said Harry, lifting Hedwig carefully off his shoulder, ‘she turned up after the other post owls and her wing's all funny, look—’
Professor Grubbly-Plank stuck her pipe firmly between her teeth and took Hedwig from Harry while Professor McGonagall watched.
‘Hmm,’ said Professor Grubbly-Plank, her pipe waggling slightly as she talked. ‘Looks like something's attacked her. Can't think what would have done it, though. Thestrals will sometimes go for birds, of course, but Hagrid's got the Hogwarts Thestrals well-trained not to touch owls.’
Harry neither knew nor cared what Thestrals were; he just wanted to know that Hedwig was going to be all right. Professor McGonagall, however, looked sharply at Harry and said, ‘Do you know how far this owl's travelled, Potter?’
‘Er,’ said Harry. ‘From London, I think.’
He met her eyes briefly and knew, by the way her eyebrows had joined in the middle, that she understood ‘London’ to mean ‘number twelve, Grimmauld Place'.
Professor Grubbly-Plank pulled a monocle out of the inside of her robes and screwed it into her eye, to examine Hedwig's wing closely. ‘I should be able to sort this out if you leave her with me, Potter,’ she said, ‘she shouldn't be flying long distances for a few days, in any case.’
‘Er—right—thanks,’ said Harry, just as the bell rang for break.
‘No problem,’ said Professor Grubbly-Plank gruffly, turning back into the staff room.
‘Just a moment, Wilhelmina!’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Potter's letter!’
‘Oh yeah!’ said Harry, who had momentarily forgotten the scroll tied to Hedwig's leg. Professor Grubbly-Plank handed it over and then disappeared into the staff room carrying Hedwig, who was staring at Harry as though unable to believe he would give her away like this. Feeling slightly guilty, he turned to go, but Professor McGonagall called him back.
‘Potter!’
‘Yes, Professor?’
She glanced up and down the corridor; there were students coming from both directions.
‘Bear in mind,’ she said quickly and quietly, her eyes on the scroll in his hand, ‘that channels of communication in and out of Hogwarts may be being watched, won't you?’
‘I—’ said Harry, but the flood of students rolling along the corridor was almost upon him. Professor McGonagall gave him a curt nod and retreated into the staff room, leaving Harry to be swept out into the courtyard with the crowd. He spotted Ron and Hermione already standing in a sheltered corner, their cloak collars turned up against the wind. Harry slit open the scroll as he hurried towards them and found five words in Sirius's handwriting:
Today, same time, same place.
‘Is Hedwig OK?’ asked Hermione anxiously, the moment he was within earshot.
‘Where did you take her?’ asked Ron.
‘To Grubbly-Plank,’ said Harry. ‘And I met McGonagall ... listen ...’
And he told them what Professor McGonagall had said. To his surprise, neither of the others looked shocked. On the contrary, they exchanged significant looks.
‘What?’ said Harry, looking from Ron to Hermione and back again.
‘Well, I was just saying to Ron ... what if someone had tried to intercept Hedwig? I mean, she's never been hurt on a flight before, has she?’
‘Who's the letter from, anyway?’ asked Ron, taking the note from Harry.
‘Snuffles,’ said Harry quietly.
‘"Same time, same place?” Does he mean the fire in the common room?’
‘Obviously,’ said Hermione, also reading the note. She looked uneasy. ‘I just hope nobody else has read this ...’
‘But it was still sealed and everything,’ said Harry, trying to convince himself as much as her. ‘And nobody would understand what it meant if they didn't know where we'd spoken to him before, would they?’
‘I don't know,’ said Hermione anxiously, hitching her bag back over her shoulder as the bell rang again, ‘it wouldn't be exactly difficult to re-seal the scroll by magic ... and if anyone's watching the Floo Network ... but I don't really see how we can warn him not to come without that being intercepted, too!’
They trudged down the stone steps to the dungeons for Potions, all three of them, lost in thought, but as they reached the bottom of the steps they were recalled to themselves by the voice of Draco Malfoy, who was standing just outside Snape's classroom door, waving around an official-looking piece of parchment and talking much louder than was necessary so that they could hear every word.
‘Yeah, Umbridge gave the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straightaway, I went to ask her first thing this morning. Well, it was pretty much automatic, I mean, she knows my father really well, he's always popping in and out of the Ministry ... it'll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor are allowed to keep playing, won't it?’
‘Don't rise,’ Hermione whispered imploringly to Harry and Ron, who were both watching Malfoy, faces set and fists clenched. ‘It's what he wants.’
‘I mean,’ said Malfoy, raising his voice a little more, his grey eyes glittering malevolently in Harry and Ron's direction, ‘if it's a question of influence with the Ministry, I don't think they've got much chance ... from what my father says, they've been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years ... and as for Potter ... my father says it's a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St. Mungo's ... apparently they've got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic.’
Malfoy made a grotesque face, his mouth sagging open and his eyes rolling. Crabbe and Goyle gave their usual grunts of laughter; Pansy Parkinson shrieked with glee.
Something collided hard with Harry's shoulder, knocking him sideways. A split second later he realised that Neville had just charged past him, heading straight for Malfoy.
‘Neville, no!’
Harry leapt forward and seized the back of Neville's robes; Neville struggled frantically, his fists flailing, trying desperately to get at Malfoy who looked, for a moment, extremely shocked.
‘Help me!’ Harry flung at Ron, managing to get an arm around Neville's neck and dragging him backwards, away from the Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle were flexing their arms as they stepped in front of Malfoy, ready for the fight. Ron seized Neville's arms, and together he and Harry succeeded in dragging Neville back into the Gryffindor line. Nevilles face was scarlet; the pressure Harry was exerting on his throat rendered him quite incomprehensible, but odd words spluttered from his mouth.
‘Not ... funny ... don't ... Mungo's ... show ... him ...’
The dungeon door opened. Snape appeared there. His black eyes swept up the Gryffindor line to the point where Harry and Ron were wrestling with Neville.
‘Fighting, Potter, Weasley, Longbottom?’ Snape said in his cold, sneering voice. ‘Ten points from Gryffindor. Release Longbottom, Potter, or it will be detention. Inside, all of you.’
Harry let go of Neville, who stood panting and glaring at him.
‘I had to stop you,’ Harry gasped, picking up his bag. ‘Crabbe and Goyle would've torn you apart.’
Neville said nothing; he merely snatched up his own bag and stalked off into the dungeon.
‘What in the name of Merlin,’ said Ron slowly, as they followed Neville, ‘was that about?’
Harry did not answer. He knew exactly why the subject of people who were in St. Mungo's because of magical damage to their brains was highly distressing to Neville, but he had sworn to Dumbledore that he would not tell anyone Neville's secret. Even Neville did not know Harry knew.
Harry, Ron and Hermione took their usual seats at the back of the class, pulled out parchment, quills and their copies of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.The class around them was whispering about what Neville had just done, but when Snape closed the dungeon door with an echoing bang, everybody immediately fell silent.
‘You will notice,’ said Snape, in his low, sneering voice, ‘that we have a guest with us today.’
He gestured towards the dim corner of the dungeon and Harry saw Professor Umbridge sitting there, clipboard on her knee. He glanced sideways at Ron and Hermione, his eyebrows raised. Snape and Umbridge, the two teachers he hated most. It was hard to decide which one he wanted to triumph over the other.
‘We are continuing with our Strengthening Solution today. You will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson; it correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend—instructions—’ he waved his wand again ‘—on the board. Carry on.’
Professor Umbridge spent the first half hour of the lesson making notes in her corner. Harry was very interested in hearing her question Snape; so interested, that he was becoming careless with his potion again.
‘Salamander blood, Harry!’ Hermione moaned, grabbing his wrist to prevent him adding the wrong ingredient for the third time, ‘not pomegranate juice!’
‘Right,’ said Harry vaguely, putting down the bottle and continuing to watch the corner. Umbridge had just got to her feet. ‘Ha,’ he said softly, as she strode between two lines of desks towards Snape, who was bending over Dean Thomas's cauldron.
‘Well, the class seem fairly advanced for their level,’ she said briskly to Snape's back. ‘Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus.’
Snape straightened up slowly and turned to look at her.
‘Now ... how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?’ she asked, her quill poised over her clipboard.
‘Fourteen years,’ Snape replied. His expression was unfathomable. Harry, watching him closely, added a few drops to his potion; it hissed menacingly and turned from turquoise to orange.
‘You applied first for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?’ Professor Umbridge asked Snape.
‘Yes,’ said Snape quietly.
‘But you were unsuccessful?’
Snape's lip curled.
‘Obviously.’
Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard.
‘And you have applied regularly for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?’
‘Yes,’ said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked very angry.
‘Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?’ asked Umbridge.
‘I suggest you ask him,’ said Snape jerkily.
‘Oh, I shall,’ said Professor Umbridge, with a sweet smile.
‘I suppose this is relevant?’ Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed.
‘Oh yes,’ said Professor Umbridge, ‘yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers'—er—backgrounds.’
She turned away, walked over to Pansy Parkinson and began questioning her about the lessons. Snape looked round at Harry and their eyes met for a second. Harry hastily dropped his gaze to his potion, which was now congealing foully and giving off a. strong smell of burned rubber.
‘No marks again, then, Potter,’ said Snape maliciously, emptying Harry's cauldron with a wave of his wand. ‘You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ said Harry furiously. Snape had already given them homework and he had Quidditch practice this evening; this would mean another couple of sleepless nights. It did not seem possible that he had awoken that morning feeling very happy. All he felt now was a fervent desire for this day to end.
‘Maybe I'll skive off Divination,’ he said glumly, as they stood in the courtyard after lunch, the wind whipping at the hems of robes and brims of hats. ‘I'll pretend to be ill and do Snape's essay instead, then I won't have to stay up half the night.’
‘You can't skive off Divination,’ said Hermione severely.
‘Hark who's talking, you walked out of Divination, you hate Trelawney!’ said Ron indignantly.
‘I don't hate her,’ said Hermione loftily. ‘I just think she's an absolutely appalling teacher and a real old fraud. But Harry's already missed History of Magic and I don't think he ought to miss anything else today!’
There was too much truth in this to ignore, so half an hour later Harry took his seat in the hot, overperfumed atmosphere of the Divination classroom, feeling angry at everybody. Professor Trelawney was yet again handing out copies of The Dream Oracle.Harry thought he'd surely be much better employed doing Snape's punishment essay than sitting here trying to find meaning in a lot of made-up dreams.
It seemed, however, that he was not the only person in Divination who was in a temper. Professor Trelawney slammed a copy of the Oracle down on the table between Harry and Ron and swept away, her lips pursed; she threw the next copy of the Oracle at Seamus and Dean, narrowly avoiding Seamus's head, and thrust the final one into Neville's chest with such force that he slipped off his pouffe.
‘Well, carry on!’ said Professor Trelawney loudly, her voice high-pitched and somewhat hysterical, ‘you know what to do! Or am I such a sub-standard teacher that you have never learned how to open a book?’
The class stared perplexedly at her, then at each other. Harry, however, thought he knew what was the matter. As Professor Trelawney flounced back to the high-backed teachers chair, her magnified eyes full of angry tears, he leaned his head closer to Ron's and muttered, ‘I think she's got the results of her inspection back.’
‘Professor?’ said Parvati Patil in a hushed voice (she and Lavender had always rather admired Professor Trelawney). ‘Professor, is there anything—er—wrong?’
‘Wrong!’ cried Professor Trelawney in a voice throbbing with emotion. ‘Certainly not! I have been insulted, certainly ... insinuations have been made against me ... unfounded accusations levelled ... but no, there is nothing wrong, certainly not!’
She took a great shuddering breath and looked away from Parvati, angry tears spilling from under her glasses.
‘I say nothing,’ she choked, ‘of sixteen years of devoted service ... it has passed, apparently, unnoticed ... but I shall not be insulted, no, I shall not!’
‘But, Professor, who's insulting you?’ asked Parvati timidly.
‘The Establishment!’ said Professor Trelawney, in a deep, dramatic, wavering voice. ‘Yes, those with eyes too clouded by the mundane to See as I See, to Know as I Know ... of course, we Seers have always been feared, always persecuted ... it is—alas—our fate.’
She gulped, dabbed at her wet cheeks with the end of her shawl, then she pulled a small embroidered handkerchief from her sleeve, and blew her nose very hard with a sound like Peeves blowing a raspberry.
Ron sniggered. Lavender shot him a disgusted look.
‘Professor,’ said Parvati, ‘do you mean ... is it something Professor Umbridge—?’
‘Do not speak to me about that woman!’ cried Professor Trelawney leaping to her feet, her beads rattling and her spectacles flashing. ‘Kindly continue with your work!’
And she spent the rest of the lesson striding among them, tears still leaking from behind her glasses, muttering what sounded like threats under her breath.
‘... may well choose to leave ... the indignity of it ... on probation ... we shall see ... how she dares ...’
‘You and Umbridge have got something in common,’ Harry told Hermione quietly when they met again in Defence Against the Dark Arts. ‘She obviously reckons Trelawney's an old fraud, too ... looks like she's put her on probation.’
Umbridge entered the room as he spoke, wearing her black velvet bow and an expression of great smugness.
‘Good afternoon, class.’
‘Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,’ they chanted dully.
‘Wands away, please.’
But there was no answering flurry of movement this time; nobody had bothered to take out their wands.
‘Please turn to page thirty-four of Defensive Magical Theory and read the third chapter, entitled “The Case for Non-Offensive Responses to Magical Attack". There will be—’
‘—no need to talk,’ Harry, Ron and Hermione said together, under their breaths.
‘No Quidditch practice,’ said Angelina in hollow tones when Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the common room after dinner that night.
‘But I kept my temper!’ said Harry, horrified. ‘I didn't say anything to her, Angelina, I swear, I—’
‘I know, I know, said Angelina miserably. ‘She just said she needed a bit of time to consider.’
‘Consider what?’ said Ron angrily. ‘She's given the Slytherins permission, why not us?’
But Harry could imagine how much Umbridge was enjoying holding the threat of no Gryffindor Quidditch team over their heads and could easily understand why she would not want to relinquish that weapon over them too soon.
‘Well,’ said Hermione, ‘look on the bright side—at least now you'll have time to do Snape's essay!’
‘That's a bright side, is it?’ snapped Harry, while Ron stared incredulously at Hermione. ‘No Quidditch practice, and extra Potions?’
Harry slumped down into a chair, dragged his Potions essay reluctantly from his bag and set to work. It was very hard to concentrate; even though he knew Sirius was not due in the fire until much later, he could not help glancing into the flames every few minutes just in case. There was also an incredible amount of noise in the room: Fred and George appeared finally to have perfected one type of Skiving Snackbox, which they were taking turns to demonstrate to a cheering and whooping crowd.
First, Fred would take a bite out of the orange end of a chew, at which he would vomit spectacularly into a bucket they had placed in front of them. Then he would force down the purple end of the chew, at which the vomiting would immediately cease. Lee Jordan, who was assisting the demonstration, was lazily Vanishing the vomit at regular intervals with the same Vanishing Spell Snape kept using on Harry's potions.
What with the regular sounds of retching, cheering and the sound of Fred and George taking advance orders from the crowd, Harry was finding it exceptionally difficult to focus on the correct method for Strengthening Solution. Hermione was not helping matters; the cheers and the sound of vomit hitting the bottom of Fred and George's bucket were punctuated by her loud and disapproving sniffs, which Harry found, if anything, more distracting.
‘Just go and stop them, then!’ he said irritably, after crossing out the wrong weight of powdered griffin claw for the fourth time.
‘I can't, they're not technically doing anything wrong,’ said Hermione through gritted teeth. ‘They're quite within their rights to eat the foul things themselves and I can't find a rule that says the other idiots aren't entitled to buy them, not unless they're proven to be dangerous in some way and it doesn't look as though they are.’
She, Harry and Ron watched George projectile-vomit into the bucket, gulp down the rest of the chew and straighten up, beaming with his arms wide to protracted applause.
‘You know, I don't get why Fred and George only got three OWLs each,’ said Harry, watching as Fred, George and Lee collected gold from the eager crowd. ‘They really know their stuff.’
‘Oh, they only know flashy stuff that's of no real use to anyone,’ said Hermione disparagingly.
‘No real use?’ said Ron in a strained voice. ‘Hermione, they've made about twenty-six Galleons already.’
It was a long while before the crowd around the Weasley twins dispersed, then Fred, Lee and George sat up counting their takings even longer, so it was well past midnight when Harry, Ron and Hermione finally had the common room to themselves. At long last, Fred had closed the doorway to the boys’ dormitories behind him, rattling his box of Galleons ostentatiously so that Hermione scowled. Harry, who was making very little progress with his Potions essay, decided to give it up for the night. As he put his books away, Ron, who was dozing lightly in an armchair, gave a muffled grunt, awoke, and looked blearily into the fire.
‘Sirius!’ he said.
Harry whipped round. Sirius's untidy dark head was sitting in the fire again.
‘Hi,’ he said, grinning.
‘Hi,’ chorused Harry, Ron and Hermione, all three kneeling down on the hearthrug. Crookshanks purred loudly and approached the fire, trying, despite the heat, to put his face close to Sirius's.
‘How're things?’ said Sirius.
‘Not that good,’ said Harry, as Hermione pulled Crookshanks back to stop him singeing his whiskers. ‘The Ministry's forced through another decree, which means we're not allowed to have Quidditch teams—’
‘Or secret Defence Against the Dark Arts groups?’ Said Sirius.
There was a short pause.
‘How did you know about that?’ Harry demanded.
‘You want to choose your meeting places more carefully,’ said Sirius, grinning still more broadly. ‘The Hog's Head, I ask you.’
‘Well, it was better than the Three Broomsticks!’ said Hermione defensively. ‘That's always packed with people—’
‘Which means you'd have been harder to overhear,’ said Sirius. ‘You've got a lot to learn, Hermione.’
‘Who overheard us?’ Harry demanded.
‘Mundungus, of course,’ said Sirius, and when they all looked puzzled he laughed. ‘He was the witch under the veil.’
‘That was Mundungus?’ Harry said, stunned. ‘What was he doing in the Hog's Head?’
‘What do you think he was doing?’ said Sirius impatiently. ‘Keeping an eye on you, of course.’
‘I'm still being followed?’ asked Harry angrily.
‘Yeah, you are,’ said Sirius, ‘and just as well, isn't it, if the first thing you're going to do on your weekend off is organise an illegal defence group.’
But he looked neither angry nor worried. On the contrary, he was looking at Harry with distinct pride.
‘Why was Dung hiding from us?’ asked Ron, sounding disappointed. ‘We'd've liked to've seen him.’
‘He was banned from the Hog's Head twenty years ago,’ said Sirius, ‘and that barman's got a long memory. We lost Moody's spare Invisibility Cloak when Sturgis was arrested, so Dung's been dressing as a witch a lot lately ... anyway ... first of all, Ron—I've sworn to pass on a message from your mother.’
‘Oh yeah?’ said Ron, sounding apprehensive.
‘She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group. She says you'll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now. She also’ (Sirius's eyes turned to the other two) ‘advises Harry and Hermione not to proceed with the group, though she accepts that she has no authority over either of them and simply begs them to remember that she has their best interests at heart. She would have written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted you'd all have been in real trouble, and she can't say it for herself because she's on duty tonight.’
‘On duty doing what?’ said Ron quickly.
‘Never you mind, just stuff for the Order,’ said Sirius. ‘So it's fallen to me to be the messenger and make sure you tell her I passed it all on, because I don't think she trusts me to.’
There was another pause in which Crookshanks, mewing, attempted to paw Sirius's head, and Ron fiddled with a hole in the hearthrug.
‘So, you want me to say I'm not going to take part in the Defence group?’ he muttered finally.
‘Me? Certainly not!’ said Sirius, looking surprised. ‘I think it's an excellent idea!’
‘You do?’ said Harry, his heart lifting.
‘Of course I do!’ said Sirius. ‘D'you think your father and I would've lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?’
‘But—last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks—’
‘Last year, all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!’ said Sirius impatiently. ‘This year, we know there's someone outside Hogwarts who'd like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!’
‘And if we do get expelled?’ Hermione asked, a quizzical look on her face.
‘Hermione, this whole thing was your idea!’ said Harry, staring at her.
‘I know it was. I just wondered what Sirius thought,’ she said, shrugging.
‘Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue,’ said Sirius.
‘Hear, hear,’ said Harry and Ron enthusiastically.
‘So,’ said Sirius, ‘how are you organising this group? Where are you meeting?’
‘Well, that's a bit of a problem now,’ said Harry. ‘Dunno where we're going to be able to go.’
‘How about the Shrieking Shack?’ suggested Sirius.
‘Hey, that's an idea!’ said Ron excitedly, but Hermione made a sceptical noise and all three of them looked at her, Sirius's head turning in the flames.
‘Well, Sirius, it's just that there were only four of you meeting in the Shrieking Shack when you were at school,’ said Hermione, ‘and all of you could transform into animals and I suppose you could all have squeezed under a single Invisibility Cloak if you'd wanted to. But there are twenty-eight of us and none of us is an Animagus, so we wouldn't need so much an Invisibility Cloak as an Invisibility Marquee—’
‘Fair point,’ said Sirius, looking slightly crestfallen. ‘Well, I'm sure you'll come up with somewhere. There used to be a pretty roomy secret passageway behind that big mirror on the fourth floor, you might have enough space to practise jinxes in there.’
‘Fred and George told me it's blocked,’ said Harry, shaking his head. ‘Caved in or something.’
‘Oh ...’ said Sirius, frowning. ‘Well, I'll have a think and get back to—’
He broke off. His face was suddenly tense, alarmed. He turned sideways, apparently looking into the solid brick wall of the fireplace.
‘Sirius?’ said Harry anxiously.
But he had vanished. Harry gaped at the flames for a moment, then turned to look at Ron and Hermione.
‘Why did he—?’
Hermione gave a horrified gasp and leapt to her feet, still staring at the fire.
A hand had appeared amongst the flames, groping as though to catch hold of something; a stubby, short-fingered hand covered in ugly old-fashioned rings.
The three of them ran for it. At the door of the boys’ dormitory Harry looked back. Umbridge's hand was still making snatching movements amongst the flames, as though she knew exactly where Sirius's hair had been moments before and was determined to seize it.