卢娜洛夫古德

    哈利这一夜睡得很不踏实。他的爸爸妈妈不停地穿行在他的梦境里，但从不说话。韦斯莱夫人对着克利切的尸体伤心地哭泣，罗恩和赫敏头戴王冠在一旁看着。而哈利发现自己又走在一条走廊上，走廊尽头是一扇紧锁的房门。他猛地惊醒过来，伤疤隐隐作痛。他发现罗恩已经穿好衣服，正跟他说话呢。

    “最好抓紧时间，妈妈要发脾气了，她说我们可能赶不上火车了？？”

    整座房子里一片混乱。哈利以最快的速度穿上衣服，他从听到的声音猜测，似乎是弗雷德和乔治给他们的箱子施了魔法，好让它们飞下楼去，省得自己搬，结果箱子径直撞向金妮，撞得她一连滚下两层楼梯，摔在门厅里。布莱克夫人和韦斯莱夫人同时声嘶力竭地尖叫起来。

    “　——　弄不好会使她受重伤的。你们这两个白痴——　”

    “——　肮脏的杂种，玷污我祖上的家宅——　”

    哈利正在穿软底运动鞋时，赫敏匆匆跑进房间，一副紧张不安的样子。海德-125　？薇摇摇晃晃地立在她的肩膀上，她怀里还抱着动来动去的克鲁克山。“爸爸妈妈刚把海德薇送回来。”猫头鹰很善解人意地扇动着翅膀飞了过来，落在自己的笼子上，“你准备好了吗？”　“差不多了。金妮没事儿吧？”哈利戴上眼镜问道。“韦斯莱夫人给她简单包扎了一下。”赫敏说，“可是这会儿疯眼汉又抱怨说斯多吉波德摩没来我们不能走，不然警卫就少了一个人。”

    “警卫？”哈利说，“我们去国王十字车站还要警卫？”

    “你去国王十字车站需要警卫。”赫敏纠正他道。

    “为什么？”哈利不耐烦地说，“我认为伏地魔现在正潜伏着等待时机呢，难道你要告诉我他会从一个垃圾箱后面跳出来，对我下毒手吗？”

    “我不知道，反正疯跟汉是那么说的。”赫敏心不在焉地说，一边看了看手表，“如果我们不赶紧动身，就肯定赶不上火车了？一”

    “拜托，你们都赶紧给我下来！”韦斯莱夫人大吼一声，赫敏就像给开水烫了似的跳起来，一溜烟地跑出了屋子。哈利抓起海德薇，胡乱地塞进笼子，然后拖着箱子跟在赫敏后面，庄楼下走。

    布莱克夫人的肖像在气愤地大叫大嚷，但没有人去拉上帷幔把她遮住。反正门厅里这么吵闹，肯定还会把她再次吵醒的。

    “哈利，你跟着我和唐克斯，”韦斯莱夫人提高声音，盖过了那声嘶力竭、一遍遍重复的“杂种！败类！肮脏的渣滓！”的叫骂声，“把你的箱子和猫头鹰放下，阿拉斯托会对付这些行李的？？哦，看在老天的分儿上，小天狼星，邓布利多说过不行！”

    就在哈利费力地跨过堆放在门厅里的大大小小的箱子往韦斯莱夫人那儿移动时，一条熊一样大的黑狗出现在哈利身边①。“哦，说实在的？？”韦斯莱夫人绝望地说，“好吧，后果由你自己负责！”她一把拧开大门走到外面九月微弱的阳光下。哈利和黑狗也跟了出来。门在他们身后重重地关上了，布莱克夫人的尖叫声立刻被隔断了。“唐克斯在哪儿？”哈利问，一边东张西望地和他们一起走下12号的台阶，剐来到人行道上，那座房子就消失了。“她就在那边等我们呢。”韦斯莱夫人板着脸说，目光躲着不去看那条蹦蹦跳跳走在哈利身边的黑狗。街角处有一个老太太在跟他们打招呼。她有一头打着小卷儿的灰发，戴着一顶形状活像猪肉馅饼的紫帽子。

    ①关于小天狼星为什么要变成一条黑狗。请见《哈利波特的魔法世界》一书，人民文学出版社，　2002年1月版。

    “你好，哈利。”她眨了眨眼睛说，“我们得抓紧时间了，是不是，莫丽？”她看了看表说道。

    “我知道，我知道，”韦斯莱夫人叹着气说，一边把步子迈得更大了，“可是疯眼汉还想等斯多吉呢？？唉，如果亚瑟还能从部里给我们借到车子就好了？？可是最近福吉连一个空墨水瓶都不肯借给他了？？麻瓜们怎么受得了不靠魔法的旅行呢？？”

    可是大黑狗开心地大叫了一声，围着他们跳跃嬉戏，假装扑过去咬鸽子，还绕着圈子追逐自己的尾巴。哈利忍不住哈哈大笑。小天狼星这么长时间一直被关在屋里可憋坏了。韦斯莱夫人噘起了嘴巴，那模样简直有点儿像佩妮姨妈。

    他们步行了二十分钟才赶到国王十字车站，路上没有发生什么大事，只是小天狼星为了逗哈利开心，作势吓跑了一两只猫。一进车站，他们就假装若无其事地徘徊在第9和第10站台之间的挡墙边，等到四下里没有人了，才一个接一个地靠在墙上，神不知鬼不觉地穿越到943　站台，只见霍格沃茨特快列车停在那里喷着黑色的蒸气，站台上挤满了正在告别的学生和他们的家人。哈利大口呼吸着这熟悉的气味，感到心快活得像要飞起来一样？？他真的要回去了？？“真希望其他人能及时赶来。”韦新莱夫人焦急地说，扭头望着横跨站台上方的锻铁拱门，待会儿后来的人将会从那里过来。

    “这条狗真不赖，哈利！”一个梳着“骇人”长发绺①的高个子男孩大声说。

    “谢谢你，李。”哈利咧嘴微笑着说，小天狼星在一边兴奋地摇着尾巴。

    “哦，太好了，”韦斯莱夫人说，明显松了口气，“阿拉斯托带着行李过来了，看？？”一顶搬运工的帽子低低地扣在他那两只不对称的眼睛上，穆迪推着一辆堆满箱子的手推车一瘸一拐地穿过了拱门。“一切正常，”他低声对韦斯莱夫人和唐克斯说，“看来我们没有被人跟踪？？”

    几秒钟后，韦斯莱先生带着罗恩和赫敏出现在了站台上。他们把穆迪行李车上的箱子一件件搬下来，快要搬完时，弗雷德、乔治和金妮才跟卢平一起赶到了。

    “没遇到麻烦吧？”穆迪粗声问道。

    “没有。”卢平说。

    “我还是要向邓布利多告斯多吉一状，”穆迪说，“这是他一星期里第二次不露面了。怎么变得像蒙顿格斯一样不可靠了。”

    （1）牙买加黑人、雷盏乐乐师等的一种发式。

    “好了，好好照顾你们自己。”卢平说着跟他们挨个儿握手。他最后来到哈利面前，拍了一下他的肩膀。“你也是，哈利。要多加小心。”

    “是啊，避免麻烦，提高警惕。”穆迪说着也跟哈利握了握手，“你们每个人都不要忘记——　写信时注意不能什么都写。如果拿不准，就干脆别往信里写。”“见到你们真是太好了。”唐克斯说着搂了搂赫敏和金妮，“我想我们很快就会再见面的。”提醒大家上车的汽笛响起。站在站台上的学生们开始急急忙忙地登上火车。

    “快点儿，快点儿，”韦斯莱夫人心烦意乱地说，胡乱地拥抱着他们大家，两次把哈利抓过去搂了搂，“写信？？保重？？如果忘记了什么，我们会派人捎去的？？好了，上车吧，快点儿？？”

    一刹那间，大黑狗靠两条后腿站了起来，把前爪搭在哈利的肩膀上，但韦斯莱夫人一把将哈利推向车门，一边压低声音说：“看在老天的分儿上，小天狼星，你得更像一条狗的样子！”

    “再见！”火车开动了，哈利从敞开的车窗向外喊道，罗恩、赫敏和金妮在他身边一个劲儿地挥手。唐克斯、卢平、穆迪、韦斯莱先生和韦斯莱夫人的身影很快地缩小了，只有那条大黑狗追着车窗奔跑，尾巴不住地摇晃。站台上一掠而过的人们看到狗追火车，都乐得哈哈大笑，接着火车拐过一个弯道，小天狼星不见了。“他不应该跟我们一起来的。”赫敏用担心的语气说。“哦，高兴点儿吧，”罗恩说，“他几个月没有看见阳光了，可怜的人。”“好了，”弗雷德拍了一下手说，“总不能一整天都站在这里聊天吧，我们还有点儿事情要跟李谈谈。待会儿见。”说完，他和乔治便消失在了右边的过道上。火车行进的速度更快了，窗外的房屋呼呼地往后闪，他们原地站着直打晃儿。“怎么样，我们去找间包厢吧？”哈利问。罗恩和赫敏交换了一下目光。“嗯。”罗恩说。

    “我们——　嗯——　罗恩和我应该到级长车厢去的。”赫敏尴尬地说。

    罗恩没有望着哈利，他似乎突然对左手的指甲产生了十分浓厚的兴趣。“噢，”哈利说，“行，好的。”“我想我们不会一路上都待在那儿的，”赫敏很快地说，“信上说，我们只是分别去接受男生学生会主席和女生学生会主席的指示，然后时不时地在走廊上巡视一下。”“好的，”哈利又说了一遍，“好吧，那么我——　我们待会儿再见吧。”“哎，没问题。”罗恩说着用惶恐不安、躲躲闪闪的目光扫了一眼哈利，“我真不愿意上那儿去，我情愿——　可我们又不得不去——　我是说，我根本就不喜欢去，我不是珀西。”他最后一句话说得斩钉截铁。

    “我知道你不是。”哈利说着咧开嘴笑了。但是当赫敏和罗恩拖着箱子、抱着克鲁克山、拎着小猪的笼子朝火车头的方向走去时，哈利还是有了一种奇怪的失落感。以前每次乘坐霍格沃茨特快列车，他都是跟罗恩在一起的。

    “走吧，”金妮对他说，“如果我们抓紧时问，还能为他们占到座位呢。”

    “好吧。”哈利说，一只手提起海德薇的笼子，另一只手抓住箱子把手。他们在过道里艰难地行走着，一边透过玻璃门朝一间间包厢里张望，里面都已经坐满了人。哈利不由自主地注意到，许多人都在怀着极大的兴趣盯着他看，有几个人还用胳膊肘捅捅坐在旁边的人，对他指指点点。接连五节车厢都是这种情况，他这才想起《预言家日报》整个夏天都在告诉读者，他是怎样一个谎话连篇、特别爱卖弄的人。他郁闷地想，不知这些一边盯着他看、一边交头接耳的人是不是相信了那些谎言。‘　在最后一节车厢里，他们遇到了纳威隆巴顿，他是哈利在格兰芬多五年级的同学。因为使劲拖着箱子，同时还要用一只手紧紧抓住他那只不断挣扎的蟾蜍莱福，纳威圆圆的脸上满是汗水。

    “嘿，哈利，”他气喘吁吁地说，“嘿，金妮？？到处都满了？？我找不到座位？？”

    “你在说什么呀？”金妮从纳威身边挤过去，朝他身后的包厢里张望了一眼，说道。“这里面还有地方呢，只有疯姑娘洛夫古德一个人——　”

    纳威嘟囔了一句什么，似乎是不想去打扰别人。

    “别傻了，”金妮大笑着说，“她没事儿的。”

    她把门拉开，拖着箱子走进了包厢。哈利和纳威也跟了进去。

    “你好，卢娜，”金妮说，“我们可以坐这些座位吗？”

    坐在窗边的那个姑娘抬起了头。她长着一头乱蓬蓬、脏兮兮、长达腰际的金黄色头发，眉毛的颜色非常浅，丽只眼睛向外凸出，这使她老有一种吃惊的表情。哈利立刻明白为什么纳威情愿放过这问包厢了。这姑娘身上明显地透着一种疯疯癫癫的劲儿。这也许是因为她为了保险起见，居然把魔杖插在了左耳朵后面，或者是因为她居然戴着一串用黄油啤酒的软木塞串成的项链，或者是因为她读杂志时居然把杂志拿颠倒了。她的目光扫过纳威落在哈利身上。她点了点头。

    “谢谢。”金妮说着对她微微一笑。

    哈利和纳威把三只箱子和海德薇的笼子放在行李架上，然后坐了下来。卢娜从颠倒的杂志上望着他们，那本杂志的名字是《唱唱反调》。她似乎不像普通人那样需要经常眨眼睛，只是一个劲儿地盯着哈利看。哈利坐在她的对面，现在后悔不迭。

    “暑假过得好吗，卢娜？”金妮问。

    “是啊，”卢娜恍恍惚惚地说，眼睛仍然死死盯着哈利，“是啊，过得挺愉快的。你是哈利波特。”她紧跟着说了一句。

    “这我知道。”哈利说。

    纳威哧哧地笑了。卢娜把浅色的眼睛转向了他。

    “我不知道你是谁。”

    “我是个小人物。”纳威赶紧说道。

    “不，才不是呢，”金妮尖锐地说，“纳威隆巴顿——　这是卢娜洛夫古德。卢娜和我同级，但在拉文克劳。”“过人的聪明才智是男人最大的财富。”卢娜用唱歌般的声音说。她高高举起那本颠倒的杂志挡住自己的脸，不再出声了。哈利和纳威扬起眉毛互相望望。金妮强忍着不让自己咯咯笑出声来。火车哐啷哐啷地往前开，把他们带到了空旷的乡村。这真是古怪的、变幻无常的一天。一会儿车厢里洒满阳光，一会儿又是天色阴沉，乌云密布。

    “猜猜我生日得到了什么礼物？”纳威说。

    “又是一个记忆球？”哈利说，他想起了纳威的奶奶为了改善纳威那糟糕透顶的记忆力，曾给他捎来的那个大理石般的玩意儿。

    “不是，”纳威说，“我有一个就够了，不过那个旧的我已经丢了好久了？？不是，看看这个？？”

    他一只手紧紧攥着莱福，另一只手伸进书包翻找了一会儿，掏出一样东西，像是一棵栽在盆里的灰色小仙人掌，但上面不是长满了剌，而是布满一个个疖子般的东西。

    “米布米宝。”他得意地说。

    啥利瞪着那东西。它在微微地跳动，看上去像一个病变的内脏器官，让人感到不祥。

    “这是非常、非常希罕的，”纳威满脸放光地说，“就连霍格沃茨的温室里都不一定有呢。我真想现在就拿给斯普劳特教授看。这是我伯父阿尔吉从亚述①给我弄来的。我想看看我能不能培植它。”

    哈利知道纳威最喜欢的一门课就是草药学，但是他怎么也弄不明白要这种发育不良的小植物有什么用。

    “它——　嗯——　它能做什么用吗？”他问。

    “用场多着呢！”纳威骄傲地说，“它有一种惊人的自卫机制。看，替我拿着莱福？？”

    （1）古代东方一奴隶制国家。

    他把蟾蜍扔在哈利的膝盖上，从书包里拿出一支羽毛笔。卢娜洛夫古德那双凸出的眼睛又从颠倒的杂志上露出来，注视着纳威的举动。纳威把舌尖含在牙齿间，把那盆米布米宝举到眼前，找准一个地方，用羽毛笔尖使劲捅了一下那棵植物。

    汁液从植物身上的每个疖子里喷射出来。一股股黏糊糊、臭烘烘的墨绿色汁液喷到了车厢的天花板上、窗户上，溅到卢娜洛夫古德的杂志上。金妮幸好及时用胳膊挡住了脸，只是头上像戴了一顶黏糊糊的肮脏绿帽子。哈利可就惨了，他两只手都忙着捉住莱福不让它逃走，结果被喷了个满脸花。那气味就像恶臭难闻的大粪。

    纳威的脸上和身上也都被喷湿了，他晃了晃脑袋，想把遭殃最厉害的眼睛里的汁液挤出来。

    “对一对不起，”他喘着气说，“我以前没有试过？？没想到会是这个样子，不过别担心，臭汁是没有毒的。”他看到哈利往地上吐了一口，不安地补充道。

    不早不晚就在这个时候，他们包厢的门被拉开了。

    “噢？？你好，哈利，”一个怯生生的声音说，“嗯？？碰到倒霉事儿啦？”

    哈利用没拿莱福的那只手擦了擦镜片。一个长得非常漂亮、一头长发乌黑油亮的姑娘正站在包厢门口，笑眯眯地望着他。是秋张，拉文克劳魁地奇球队的找球手。

    “噢？？你好。”哈利不知所措地说。

    “嗯？？”秋说，“好吧？？我就是想过来问声好？？再见吧。”

    她脸上红红的，关上门走了。哈利垂头耷脑地倒在座位上，唉声叹气。他真希望秋看见他和一群很酷的人坐在一起，他们被他讲的一个笑话逗得乐不可支。他真不愿意被她看见自己跟纳威和疯姑娘洛夫古德坐在一起，手里拿着一只癞蛤蟆，脸上淌着臭汁。

    “没关系，”金妮安慰他说，“瞧，我们不费吹灰之力就能弄干净。”她抽出自己的魔杖。“清理一新！”

    臭汁都消失了。

    “对不起。”纳威又小声说了一遍。

    罗恩和赫敏差不多一小时之后才回来。买食品的手推车已经来过了，哈利、金妮和纳威吃完了南瓜馅饼，正忙着交换巧克力蛙的卡片，这时包厢的门被推开，他们俩走了进来，跟他们在一起的还有克鲁克山和关在笼子里厉声尖叫的小猪。

    “我饿惨了。”罗恩说着把小猪塞在海德薇旁边，从哈利手里抓过一个巧克力蛙，一屁股坐在哈利旁边的座位上。他撕开包装纸，一口咬掉了青蛙的脑袋，然后倒在椅背上，闭上了眼睛，似乎这一上午把他累坏了。

    “是这样，每个学院的五年级都有两个级长，”赫敏说，她坐下时显得特别不高兴，“一男一女。”“猜猜谁是斯莱特林的级长？”罗恩说，眼睛仍然闭着。

    “马尔福。”哈利不假思索地回答，相信他最担心的事情会得到证实。“没错。”罗恩苦闷地说，一边把青蛙的身体塞进嘴里，然后又拿了一个。“还有那个十足的母牛潘西帕金森，”赫敏尖刻地说，“她怎么能当级长呢，她比一个患了脑震荡的山怪还要笨呢？？”“赫奇帕奇的是谁？”哈利问。“厄尼麦克米兰和汉娜艾博。”罗恩很快地说。

    “拉文克劳的是安东尼戈德斯坦和帕德玛佩蒂尔。”赫敏说。“你和帕德玛佩蒂尔一起参加过圣诞节的舞会。”一个含混不清的声音说。大家都转过脸来望着卢娜洛夫古德，她的眼睛从《唱唱反调》上方一眨不眨地盯着罗恩。罗恩赶紧把满嘴的巧克力蛙咽了下去。“是啊，我知道的。”他说，显得有点儿吃惊。“可是她玩得不很开心，”卢娜对他说，“她认为你对她不太好，因为你不肯跟她跳舞。我想我是不会在乎的，”她若有所思地又说道，“我不太喜欢跳舞。”

    她又缩到《唱唱反调》后面去了。罗恩张大嘴巴呆呆地望着杂志封面，好几秒钟缓不过神来，随即转脸看看金妮，希望得到一些解释。可是金妮用手指堵着嘴，不让自己咯咯笑出声来。罗恩摇了摇头，整个儿给弄糊涂了，然后他看了看表。

    “我们应该偶尔在过道里巡视巡视，”他对哈利和纳威说，“如果有人在做坏事，我们可以惩罚他们。我真想马上就抓住克拉布和高尔的什么把柄？？”“你不应该滥用职权，罗恩！”赫敏严厉地说。

    “是啊，没错，因为马尔福是绝不会滥用职权的。”罗恩讽刺地说。“这么说你要把自己降低到他那个层次？”“不，我只是要保证在他欺负我的朋友之前，先给他的朋友一点厉害瞧瞧。”“看在老天的分儿上，罗恩——　”　“我要罚高尔写句子，那会要了他的命，他最讨厌写字了。”罗恩开心地说。

    他放低声音，学着高尔粗声哑气的嗓音，把脸皱成一团，似乎在痛苦地集中注意力，假装在空气中写字：“我？？鲍？？不？？能？？像？？狒？？狒？？的？？屁？？股。”

    大伙儿乐得哈哈大笑，但是谁也没有卢娜洛夫古德笑得那样厉害。她发出一串尖厉刺耳的狂笑，把海德薇从梦中惊醒了。它愤怒地扑扇着翅膀，吓得克鲁克山跳到行李架上，嘶嘶地叫着。卢娜笑得太厉害了，她手里的杂志掉下来，从腿上滑到了地板上。

    “是这样，每个学院的五年级都有两个级长，”赫敏说，她坐下时显得特别不高兴，“一男一女。”“　猜猜谁是斯莱特林的级长？”　罗恩说，　眼睛仍然闭着。

    “马尔福。”哈利不假思索地回答，相信他最担心的事情会得到证实。“没错。”罗恩苦闷地说，一边把青蛙的身体塞进嘴里，然后又拿了一个。“还有那个十足的母牛潘西帕金森，”赫敏尖刻地说，“她怎么能当级长呢，她比一个患了脑震荡的山怪还要笨呢？？”“赫奇帕奇的是谁？”哈利问。“厄尼麦克米兰和汉娜艾博。”罗恩很快地说。

    “拉文克劳的是安东尼-戈德斯坦和帕德玛佩蒂尔。”赫敏说。“你和帕德玛佩蒂尔一起参加过圣诞节的舞会。”一个含混不清的声音说。大家都转过脸来望着卢娜洛夫古德，她的眼睛从《唱唱反调》上方一眨不眨地盯着罗恩。罗恩赶紧把满嘴的巧克力蛙咽了下去。“是啊，我知道的。”他说，显得有点儿吃惊。“可是她玩得不很开心，”卢娜对他说，“她认为你对她不太好，因为你不肯跟她跳舞。我想我是不会在乎的，”她若有所思地又说道，“我不太喜欢跳舞。”

    她又缩到《唱唱反调》后面去了。罗恩张大嘴巴呆呆地望着杂志封面，好几秒钟缓不过神来，随即转脸看看金妮，希望得到一些解释。可是金妮用手指堵着嘴，不让自己咯咯笑出声来。罗恩摇了摇头，整个儿给弄糊涂了，然后他看了看表。

    “我们应该偶尔在过道里巡视巡视，”他对哈利和纳威说，“如果有人在做坏事，我们可以惩罚他们。我真想马上就抓住克拉布和高尔的什么把柄？？”“你不应该滥用职权，罗恩！”赫敏严厉地说。

    “是啊，没错，因为马尔福是绝不会滥用职权的。”罗恩讽刺地说。“这么说你要把自己降低到他那个层次？”“不，我只是要保证在他欺负我的朋友之前，先给他的朋友一点厉害瞧瞧。”“看在老天的分儿上，罗恩——　”　“我要罚高尔写句子，那会要了他的命，他最讨厌写字了。”罗恩开心地说。

    他放低声音，学着高尔粗声哑气的嗓音，把脸皱成一团，似乎在痛苦地集中注意力，假装在空气中写字：“我？？绝？？不？？能？？像？？狒？？狒？？的？？屁？？股。”

    大伙儿乐得哈哈大笑，但是谁也没有卢娜洛夫古德笑得那样厉害。她发出一串尖厉刺耳的狂笑，把海德薇从梦中惊醒了。它愤怒地扑扇着翅膀，吓得克鲁克山跳到行李架上，嘶嘶地叫着。卢娜笑得太厉害了，她手里的杂志掉下来，从腿上滑到了地板上。

    法部展开了前所未有的大范围搜捕。他应该被重新抓获，送回到摄魂怪手里，对此我们没有一个人提出质疑。然而真是这样吗？最近出现了令人惊诧的新证据，证明小天狼星布莱克也许并没有犯下他因之被送进阿兹卡班的那些罪行。小诺顿区刺叶路18号的多丽丝珀基斯说，实际上，小天狼星可能根本就不在杀人现场。“人们没有意识到，小天狼星布莱克是一个假名。”珀基斯夫人说，“人们以为是小天狼星布莱克的那个人，实际上是胖墩子勃德曼，是流行歌唱小组淘气妖精的领唱，约十五年前在小诺顿区教堂大厅的一次音乐会上被一个萝卜打中耳朵后，就退出了公众生活。我在报纸上看到他的照片时一眼就认了出来。所以，胖墩子不可能犯下那些罪行，因为在那一天他正好和我一起享受浪漫的烛光晚宴。我已经给魔法部部长写了信，希望他能尽快给胖墩子，又名小天狼星，彻底平反昭雪。”

    哈利读完后，不敢相信地瞪着那篇文章。也许这是一个笑话，他想，也许杂志上经常刊登一些哗众取宠的笑料。他往后翻了几页，找到了关于福吉的那篇文章。

    魔法部部长康奈利福吉五年前当选部长时，曾经否认他有接管古灵阁巫师银行的打算。福吉总是一口咬定，他只想和我们的黄金保管者“和平合作”。然而真是这样吗？与魔法部密切接触的消息提供者最近透露，福吉最强烈的野心就是控制小妖精的黄金储备，如果必要的话，他会毫不犹豫地动用武力。“这也不会是第一次，”一位魔法部内部人士说，“他的朋友们都管他叫‘妖精杀手’康奈利福吉。但愿你能听见他在以为旁边没人时所说的话。哦，他总是在谈论他干掉的那些妖精。扔进水里淹死的，从楼上推下去摔死的，下毒药毒死的，还有做成馅饼烤熟的？？”

    哈利没有再读下去。福吉可能有许多缺点，但哈利觉得很难想象他会命令别人把妖精做成馅饼，这太离奇了。他翻看着杂志上其余的文章，偶尔停下来看两眼，他读到的内容有：有人指控说塔特希尔龙卷风队①是靠胁迫、非法对扫帚做手脚、折磨对手等手段而赢得魁地奇球俱乐部联合会杯的；对一个巫师的采访，他宣称自己骑着一把横扫六星飞到了月亮上，并带回来一袋月亮上的青蛙作为证据；还有一篇文章讲的是古代魔文，这至少解释了卢娜为什么一直颠倒着读①关于这支球队的情况。请见《神奇的魁地奇球）一书。人民文学出版社。2001年10月版。

    《唱唱反调》。据杂志上说，如果你把这些古魔文颠倒过来，就能看见它们其实是一个咒语，能把你仇敌的耳朵变成金橘。实际上，跟《唱唱反调》上的其他文章比起来，那篇提出小天狼星实际上可能是淘气妖精领唱的文章还算是有点道理的呢。

    “上面有什么好东西吗？”罗恩看到哈利合上了杂志，问道。“当然没有，”赫敏不等哈利回答，就尖刻地说，“《唱唱反调》是一堆垃圾，这是每个人都知道的。”“对不起，”卢娜说，她的声音突然不再那么恍恍惚惚了，“我父亲是杂志编辑。”“我？？哦，”赫敏显得非常尴尬地说，“是这样，有一些还是蛮有趣的？？我的意思是，它还是很？？”

    “把它还给我吧，谢谢。”卢娜冷冷地说，探过身来一把从哈利手里夺过杂志，哗啦哗啦地翻到第五十七页，坚定不移地把它颠倒过来，把自己的脸挡在后面。就在这时，包厢的门第三次被拉开了。

    哈利扭头一看，他其实早就预料到了，但此刻看到德拉科马尔福在他两个死党克拉布和高尔的陪伴下，得意洋洋地冲他冷笑时，他仍然感到很不愉快。

    “怎么啦？”他不等马尔福开口，就挑衅地问道。

    “注意礼貌，波特，不然我就让你关禁闭。”马尔福拖腔拖调地说，油光水滑的金黄色头发和尖尖的下巴跟他爸爸一模一样，“你看，我和你不同，我当上级长了，这就是说，我和你不同，我有权惩罚别人。”

    “是嘛，”哈利说，“可是你，和我不同，你是个饭桶，所以请你走开，别来打搅我们。”

    罗恩、赫敏、金妮和纳威都哈哈大笑起来。马尔福噘起了嘴。

    “告诉我，败在韦斯莱手下的滋味如何呀，　波特？”他问。

    “闭嘴，马尔福。”赫敏厉声说道。

    “看来我触到痛处了。”马尔福得意地笑着说，“好吧，波特，你可要放规矩点儿，因为我会像只猎狗一样跟着你，看你敢不敢越轨。”

    “出去！”赫敏说着站了起来。

    马尔福哧哧坏笑着，恶狠狠地朝哈利最后瞪了一眼，转身离开了，克拉布和高尔笨手笨脚地跟在后面。赫敏把包厢的门重重地关上，转脸望着哈利。哈利顿时就明白了，赫敏和他一样，也注意到了马尔福刚才说的话，并为此感到忧心忡忡。

    “再扔一只青蛙过来。”罗恩说，他显然什么也没留意。当着纳威和卢娜的面，哈利不能敞开心扉来说话。他又和赫敏交换了一下惶恐不安的目光，然后转脸望着窗外。

    他原来以为，小天狼星陪他到车站来只是一个玩笑之举，现在才发现这么做即使不是非常危险，也是不够谨慎？？赫敏说得对？？小天狼星是不应该来的。如果马尔福先生注意到了那条黑狗，并告诉了德拉科呢？如果他由此推断出韦斯莱夫妇、卢平、唐克斯和穆迪知道小天狼星藏在哪里呢？或者，马尔福刚才说话用“像只猎狗一样跟着”这样的字眼只是一种巧合？他们继续向北行进，天气还是变幻不定。雨点有一搭没一搭地敲打着车窗，然后太阳懒洋洋地探出脸来，很快云层飘过，又把它遮住了。夜幕降临了，车厢里的灯亮了，卢娜卷起《唱唱反凋》，小心地放进书包，然后转过脸来，目不转睛地盯着包厢里的每个人。

    哈利坐在那里，将额头贴在车窗上，想远远地就能看见霍格沃茨，但这是一个没有月亮的夜晚，而且被雨水打湿的车窗上脏兮兮的。

    “我们得换衣服了。”最后赫敏说道，于是大家手忙脚乱地打开箱子，穿上校袍。她和罗恩仔细地把级长徽章戴在胸前。哈利看见罗恩对着漆黑的窗户照了照自己的模样。

    终于，火车慢慢地减速了，他们又听见四下里一片纷乱嘈杂，因为每个人都在忙着把行李和宠物归拢在一起，准备下车。罗恩和赫敏要监督秩序，就又从车厢里消失了，留下哈利和其他人照看克鲁克山和小猪。

    “我来提那只猫头鹰，行吗？”卢娜对哈利说，伸手来接小猪，纳威在一旁小心地把莱福塞进长袍里面的口袋。

    “哦——　嗯——　谢谢。”哈利说着把笼子递给了她，然后将海德薇更稳妥地抱在怀里。

    他们拖着沉重的脚步走出包厢，汇入了过道里的人流，第一次感觉到夜晚的空气吹在脸上的刺痛。他们慢慢地朝门口挪动，哈利可以闻到通向湖畔的小路两旁那一棵棵松树的清香。他下车来到站台上，环顾四周，竖起耳朵寻找那熟悉的声音：“一年级新生上这儿来？？一年级新生？？”

    可是他没有听见。取而代之的是一个完全陌生的声音，一个干脆利落的女性的声音，正在大声喊着：“一年级新生请上这儿排队！所有一年级新生都跟我来！”

    一盏提灯摇摇晃晃地朝哈利这边移了过来，就着它的亮光，他看见了格拉普兰教授那突出的下巴和修剪得一丝不苟的头发，这位女巫前一年曾代替海格上过一段时间的保护神奇生物课。

    “海格呢？”哈利大声问。

    “我不知道，”金妮说，“但我们最好赶紧让开，我们把门都挡住了。”

    “噢，好的？？”

    哈利和金妮顺着站台往车站外面走去，渐渐地两人分开了。哈利被人群推挤着往前走，一边眯起眼睛在黑暗中寻找海格的身影。他不能不在这儿，哈利眼巴巴地盼着呢——　再次见到海格是哈利内心最渴望的一件事。可是四下里没有海格的影子。

    他不可能离开的，哈利一边想着一边拖着沉重的脚步和众人一起慢慢穿过狭窄的门道，来到外面的马路上。他可能只是患了感冒什么的？？他东张西望地寻找罗恩或赫敏，想知道他们对格拉普兰教授的再次出现有什么想法，可是他们俩都不在旁边，他只好由着自己被推向霍格莫德车站外那条被雨水冲刷过的黑乎乎的街道。

    这里停着约一百辆没有马拉的马车，每年都是它们把一年级以上的学生送到城堡去的。哈利很快地扫了它们一眼，又转脸寻找罗恩和赫敏，接着他又回过头来仔细看。

    马车前面不再是空的了。辕杆之间站着一些动物，如果硬要给它们一个名字的话，他觉得他会管它们叫马，尽管它们的模样有点儿类似爬行动物。它们身上一点肉也没有，黑色的毛皮紧紧地贴在骨架上，每一根骨头都清晰可见。它们的头很像龙的脑袋，没有瞳孔的眼睛白白的，目不转睛地瞪着。在肩骨间隆起的地方生出了翅膀——　又大又黑的坚韧翅膀，看上去似乎应该属于巨大的蝙蝠。这些动物一动不动，静悄悄地站在越来越浓的夜色中，显得怪异而不祥。哈利真不明白，这些马车明明自己就能行走，为什么还要用这些可怕的马来拉它们呢。

    “小猪呢？”罗恩的声音在哈利身后响起。

    “那个叫卢娜的女生提着呢，”哈利说着急切地转过身来，想跟罗恩讨论一下海格的事，“你说，为什么不见——　”

    “——　海格？不知道，”罗恩说，显得很是担忧，“他可别出什么事？？”

    在离他们不远的地方，德拉科马尔福，后面跟着一小伙死党，包括克拉布、高尔和潘西帕金森，正在把几个神情很胆怯的二年级同学推到一边，好让他和他的朋友独占一辆马车。几秒钟后，赫敏气喘吁吁地从人群中钻了出来。

    “马尔福刚才在那里对一个一年级新生的态度非常恶劣。我发誓一定要告他一状，他戴上徽章还不满三分钟呢，就利用它变本加厉地欺负别人？？克鲁克山呢？”

    “金妮抱着呢。”哈利说，“她来了？？”金妮刚从人群里闪身出来，紧紧抱着不断扭动的克鲁克山。“谢谢。”赫敏说着把猫从金妮手里接了过来，“走吧，我们赶紧找一辆马车坐在一起，待会儿就没有地方了？？”“我还没有拿到小猪呢！”罗恩说，可是赫敏已经朝最近的一辆空马车走去。哈利陪罗恩留在原地。“你看，那是些什么东西？”哈利问罗恩，并冲那些可怕的怪马点点头，这时其他学生蜂拥着从他们身边走过。“什么东西？”“那些马——　”

    卢娜怀里抱着小猪的笼子出现了。小猫头鹰像平常一样兴奋地吱吱乱叫。“给你，”她说，“它真是一只可爱的小猫头鹰，是吧？”　“嗯？？是啊？？它挺好的。”罗恩粗声粗气地说，“好了，快走吧，我们赶紧进去？？你刚才说什么，哈利？”“我刚才说，那些像马一样的东西是什么？”哈利说，一边和罗恩、卢娜一起朝赫敏和金妮已经坐下的那辆马车走去。“什么马一样的东西？”“就是拉那些马车的像马一样的东西！”哈利不耐烦地说。他们离最近的那匹怪马大约只有两三步远了，它正用空洞的白眼睛注视着他们。可是罗恩困惑不解地看了哈利一眼。“你在说什么呀？”“我在说——　你看！”

    哈利抓住罗恩的胳膊，拖得他转过身来，面对着那匹长着翅膀的怪马。罗恩直直地瞪眼看了一秒钟，然后转过脸来看着哈利。“你叫我看什么呀？”“看那个——　那儿，就在辕杆之间！套在马车上的！就在你面前——　”

    可是罗恩还是一脸的迷惑，哈利突然产生了一个奇怪的想法。“难道？？难道你看不见它们？”“看见什么？”“难道你看不见拉马车的东西？”这时候罗恩露出了非常惊愕的表情。“你没有什么不对劲儿吧，哈利？”“我？？没事儿？？”

    哈利感到困惑极了。那匹马明明就在他面前，在他们身后车站窗户透出的艨胧灯光的映照下，实实在在地闪着光，鼻孔里喷出的气息在夜晚寒冷的空气中凝成了水汽。然而——　除非罗恩是在装假——　如果真是这样，这个玩笑可是太蹩脚了——　罗恩居然根本看不见！“我们进去吧，好吗？”罗恩忐忑不安地说，一边望着哈利，似乎很替他担心。“好的，”哈利说，“好的，走吧？？”“没关系，”当罗恩钻进黑乎乎的马车车厢时，哈利身边一个恍恍惚惚的声音说道，“你不会变疯什么的。我也能看见它们。”“真的吗？”哈利迫切地问，转脸看着卢娜。他可以看见她那双银白色的大眼睛里映出了那些长着蝙蝠翅膀的马。

    “哦，是啊，”卢娜说，“我从第一天来这里就能看见它们。它们一直在拉马车。放心吧，你的头脑和我一样清醒。”

她淡淡地一笑，跟着罗恩钻进了发霉的马车车厢。哈利心头的疑虑并没有完全打消，但还是跟着钻了进去。

The Sorting Hat's New Song

Harry did not want to tell the others that he and Luna were having the same hallucination, if that was what it was, so he said nothing more about the horses as he sat down inside the carriage and slammed the door behind him. Nevertheless, he could not help watching the silhouettes of the horses moving beyond the window.
‘Did everyone see that Grubbly-Plank woman?’ asked Ginny. ‘What's she doing back here? Hagrid can't have left, can he?’
‘I'll be quite glad if he has,’ said Luna, ‘he isn't a very good teacher, is he?’
‘Yes, he is!’ said Harry, Ron and Ginny angrily.
Harry glared at Hermione. She cleared her throat and quickly said, ‘Erm ... yes ... he's very good.’
‘Well, we in Ravenclaw think he's a bit of a joke,’ said Luna, unfazed.
‘You've got a rubbish sense of humour then,’ Ron snapped, as the wheels below them creaked into motion.
Luna did not seem perturbed by Ron's rudeness; on the contrary, she simply watched him for a while as though he were a mildly interesting television programme.
Rattling and swaying, the carriages moved in convoy up the road. When they passed between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars on either side of the gates to the school grounds, Harry leaned forwards to try and see whether there were any lights on in Hagrid's cabin by the Forbidden Forest, but the grounds were in complete darkness. Hogwarts Castle, however, loomed ever closer: a towering mass of turrets, jet black against the dark sky, here and there a window blazing fiery bright above them.
The carriages jingled to a halt near the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors and Harry got out of the carriage first. He turned again to look for lit windows down by the Forest, but there was definitely no sign of life within Hagrid's cabin. Unwillingly, because he had half-hoped they would have vanished, he turned his eyes instead upon the strange, skeletal creatures standing quietly in the chill night air, their blank white eyes gleaming.
Harry had once before had the experience of seeing something that Ron could not, but that had been a reflection in a mirror, something much more insubstantial than a hundred very solid-looking beasts strong enough to pull a fleet of carriages. If Luna was to be believed, the beasts had always been there but invisible. Why, then, could Harry suddenly see them, and why could Ron not?
‘Are you coming or what?’ said Ron beside him.
‘Oh ... yeah,’ said Harry quickly and they joined the crowd hurrying up the stone steps into the castle.
The Entrance Hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast.
The four long house tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes. Again, Harry noticed people putting their heads together to whisper as he passed; he gritted his teeth and tried to act as though he neither noticed nor cared.
Luna drifted away from them at the Ravenclaw table. The moment they reached Gryffindor's, Ginny was hailed by some fellow fourth-years and left to sit with them; Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville found seats together about halfway down the table between Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor house ghost, and Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, the last two of whom gave Harry airy, overly-friendly greetings that made him quite sure they had stopped talking about him a split second before. He had more important things to worry about, however: he was looking over the students’ heads to the staff table that ran along the top wall of the Hall.
‘He's not there.’
Ron and Hermione scanned the staff table too, though there was no real need; Hagrid's size made him instantly obvious in any lineup.
‘He can't have left,’ said Ron, sounding slightly anxious.
‘Of course he hasn't,’ said Harry firmly.
‘You don't think he's ... hurt, or anything, do you?’ said Hermione uneasily.
‘No,’ said Harry at once.
‘But where is he, then?’
There was a pause, then Harry said very quietly, so that Neville, Parvati and Lavender could not hear, ‘Maybe he's not back yet. You know—from his mission—the thing he was doing over the summer for Dumbledore.’
‘Yeah ... yeah, that'll be it,’ said Ron, sounding reassured, but Hermione bit her lip, looking up and down the staff table as though hoping for some conclusive explanation of Hagrid's absence.
‘Who's that?’ she said sharply, pointing towards the middle of the staff table.
Harry's eyes followed hers. They lit first upon Professor Dumbledore, sitting in his high-backed golden chair at the centre of the long staff table, wearing deep-purple robes scattered with silvery stars and a matching hat. Dumbledore's head was inclined towards the woman sitting next to him, who was talking into his ear. She looked, Harry thought, like somebody's maiden aunt: squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. Then she turned her face slightly to take a sip from her goblet and he saw, with a shock of recognition, a pallid, toadlike face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.
‘It's that Umbridge woman!’
‘Who?’ said Hermione.
‘She was at my hearing, she works for Fudge!’
‘Nice cardigan,’ said Ron, smirking.
‘She works for Fudge!’ Hermione repeated, frowning. ‘What on earth's she doing here, then?’
‘Dunno ...’
Hermione scanned the staff table, her eyes narrowed.
‘No,’ she muttered, ‘no, surely not ...’
Harry did not understand what she was talking about but did not ask; his attention had been caught by Professor Grubbly-Plank who had just appeared behind the staff table; she worked her way along to the very end and took the seat that ought to have been Hagrid's. That meant the first-years must have crossed the lake and reached the castle, and sure enough, a few seconds later, the doors from the Entrance Hall opened. A long line of scared-looking first-years entered, led by Professor McGonagall, who was carrying a stool on which sat an ancient wizards hat, heavily patched and darned with a wide rip near the frayed brim.
The buzz of talk in the Great Hall faded away. The first-years lined up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and Professor McGonagall placed the stool carefully in front of them, then stood back.
The first-years’ faces glowed palely in the candlelight. A small boy right in the middle of the row looked as though he was trembling. Harry recalled, fleetingly, how terrified he had felt when he had stood there, waiting for the unknown test that would determine to which house he belonged.
The whole school waited with bated breath. Then the rip near the hat's brim opened wide like a mouth and the Sorting Hat burst into song:
In times of old when I was new
And Hogwarts barely started
The founders of our noble school
Thought never to be parted:
United by a common goal,
They had the selfsame yearning,
To make the world's best magic school
And pass along their learning.
‘Together we will build and teach!’
The four good friends decided
And never did they dream that they
Might some day be divided,
For were there such friends anywhere
As Slytherin and Gryffindor?
Unless it was the second pair
Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?
So how could it have gone so wrong?
How could such friendships fail?
Why, I was there and so can tell
The whole sad, sorry tale.
Said Slytherin, ‘We'll teach just those
Whose ancestry is purest.’
Said Ravenclaw, ‘We'll teach those whose
Intelligence is surest. ’
Said Gryffindor, ‘We'll teach all those
With brave deeds to their name, ’
Said Hufflepuff, ‘I'll teach the lot,
And treat them just the same. ’
These differences caused little strife
When first they came to light,
For each of the four founders had
A house in which they might
Take only those they wanted, so,
For instance, Slytherin
Took only pure-blood wizards
Of great cunning, just like him,
And only those of sharpest mind
Were taught by Ravenclaw
While the bravest and the boldest
Went to daring Gryffindor.
Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,
And taught them all she knew,
Thus the houses and their founders
Retained friendships firm and true.
So Hogwarts worked in harmony
For several happy years,
But then discord crept among us
Feeding on our faults and fears.
The houses that, like pillars four,
Had once held up our school,
Now turned upon each other and,
Divided, sought to rule.
And for a while it seemed the school
Must meet an early end,
What with duelling and with fighting
And the clash of friend on friend
And at last there came c morning
When old Slytherin departed
And though the fighting then died out
He left us quite downhearted.
And never since the founders four
Were whittled down to three
Have the houses been united
As they once were meant to be.
And now the Sorting Hat is here
And you all know the score:
I sort you into houses
Because that is what I'm for,
But this year I'll go further,
Listen closely to my song:
Though condemned I am to split you
Still I worry that it's wrong,
Though I must fulfil my duty
And must quarter every year
Still I wonder whether Sorting
May not bring the end I fear.
Oh, know the perils, read the signs,
The warning history shows,
For our Hogwarts is in danger
From external, deadly foes
And we must unite inside her
Or we'll crumble from within
I have told you, I have warned you ...
Let the Sorting now begin.

The Hat became motionless once more; applause broke out, though it was punctured, for the first time in Harry's memory, with muttering and whispers. All across the Great Hall students were exchanging remarks with their neighbours, and Harry, clapping along with everyone else, knew exactly what they were talking about.
‘Branched out a bit this year, hasn't it?’ said Ron, his eyebrows raised.
‘Too right it has,’ said Harry.
The Sorting Hat usually confined itself to describing the different qualities looked for by each of the four Hogwarts houses and its own role in Sorting them. Harry could not remember it ever trying to give the school advice before.
‘I wonder if it's ever given warnings before?’ said Hermione, sounding slightly anxious.
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Nearly Headless Nick knowledgeably, leaning across Neville towards her (Neville winced; it was very uncomfortable to have a ghost lean through you). ‘The Hat feels itself honour-bound to give the school due warning whenever it feels—’
But Professor McGonagall, who was waiting to read out the list of first-years’ names, was giving the whispering students the sort of look that scorches. Nearly Headless Nick placed a see-through finger to his lips and sat primly upright again as the muttering came to an abrupt end. With a last frowning look that swept the lour house tables, Professor McGonagall lowered her eyes to her long piece of parchment and called out the first name.
‘Abercrombie, Euan.’
The terrified-looking boy Harry had noticed earlier stumbled forwards and put the Hat on his head; it was only prevented from falling right down to his shoulders by his very prominent ears. The Hat considered for a moment, then the rip near the brim opened again and shouted:
‘Gryffindor!’
Harry clapped loudly with the rest of Gryffindor house as Euan Abercrombie staggered to their table and sat down, looking as though he would like very much to sink through the floor and never be looked at again.
Slowly, the long line of first-years thinned. In the pauses between the names and the Sorting Hat's decisions, Harry could hear Ron's stomach rumbling loudly. Finally, ‘Zeller, Rose’ was Sorted into Hufflepuff, and Professor McGonagall picked up the Hat and stool and marched them away as Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet.
Whatever his recent bitter feelings had been towards his Headmaster, Harry was somehow soothed to see Dumbledore standing before them all. Between the absence of Hagrid and the presence of those dragonish horses, he had felt that his return to Hogwarts, so long anticipated, was full of unexpected surprises, like jarring notes in a familiar song. But this, at least, was how it was supposed to be: their Headmaster rising to greet them all before the start-of-term feast.
‘To our newcomers,’ said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, ‘welcome! To our old hands—welcome back! There is a time for speech-making, but this is not it. Tuck in!’
There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his long beard over his shoulder so as to keep it out of the way of his plate—for food had appeared out of nowhere, so that the five long tables were groaning under joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread and sauces and flagons of pumpkin juice.
‘Excellent,’ said Ron, with a kind of groan of longing, and he seized the nearest plate of chops and began piling them on to his plate, watched wistfully by Nearly Headless Nick.
‘What were you saying before the Sorting?’ Hermione asked the ghost. ‘About the Hat giving warnings?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Nick, who seemed glad of a reason to turn away from Ron, who was now eating roast potatoes with almost indecent enthusiasm. ‘Yes, I have heard the Hat give several warnings before, always at times when it detects periods of great danger for the school. And always, of course, its advice is the same: stand together, be strong from within.’
‘Ow kunnit nofe skusin danger ifzat?’ said Ron.
His mouth was so full Harry thought it was quite an achievement for him to make any noise at all.
‘I beg your pardon?’ said Nearly Headless Nick politely, while Hermione looked revolted. Ron gave an enormous swallow and said, ‘How can it know if the school's in danger if it's a Hat?’
‘I have no idea,’ said Nearly Headless Nick. ‘Of course, it lives in Dumbledore's office, so I daresay it picks things up there.’
‘And it wants all the houses to be friends?’ said Harry, looking over at the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy was holding court. ‘Fat chance.’
‘Well, now, you shouldn't take that attitude,’ said Nick reprovingly. ‘Peaceful co-operation, that's the key. We ghosts, though we belong to separate houses, maintain links of friendship. In spite of the competitiveness between Gryffindor and Slytherin, I would never dream of seeking an argument with the Bloody Baron.’
‘Only because you're terrified of him,’ said Ron.
Nearly Headless Nick looked highly affronted.
‘Terrified? I hope I, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, have never been guilty of cowardice in my life! The noble blood that runs in my veins—’
‘What blood?’ asked Ron. ‘Surely you haven't still got—?’
‘It's a figure of speech!’ said Nearly Headless Nick, now so annoyed his head was trembling ominously on his partially severed neck. ‘I assume I am still allowed to enjoy the use of whichever words I like, even if the pleasures of eating and drinking are denied me! But I am quite used to students poking fun at my death, I assure you!’
‘Nick, he wasn't really laughing at you!’ said Hermione, throwing a furious look at Ron.
Unfortunately, Ron's mouth was packed to exploding point again and all he could manage was ‘Node iddum eentup sechew,’ which Nick did not seem to think constituted an adequate apology. Rising into the air, he straightened his feathered hat and swept away from them to the other end of the table, coming to rest between the Creevey brothers, Colin and Dennis.
‘Well done, Ron,’ snapped Hermione.
‘What?’ said Ron indignantly, having managed, finally, to swallow his food. ‘I'm not allowed to ask a simple question?’
‘Oh, forget it,’ said Hermione irritably, and the pair of them spent the rest of the meal in huffy silence.
Harry was too used to their bickering to bother trying to reconcile them; he felt it was a better use of his time to eat his way steadily through his steak and kidney pie, then a large plateful of his favourite treacle tart.
When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the Hall was starting to creep upwards again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to face the Headmaster. Harry was feeling pleasantly drowsy now. His four-poster bed was waiting somewhere above, wonderfully warm and soft ...
‘Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices,’ said Dumbledore. ‘First-years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students—and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too.’ (Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged smirks.)
‘Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.
‘We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.’
There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause, during which Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged slightly panicked looks; Dumbledore had not said for how long Grubbly-Plank would be teaching.
Dumbledore continued, ‘Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the—’
He broke off, looking enquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge cleared her throat, ‘Hem, hem,’ and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.
Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as Harry had ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking; this woman obviously did not know how things were done at Hogwarts.
‘Thank you, Headmaster,’ Professor Umbridge simpered, ‘for those kind words of welcome.’
Her voice was high-pitched, breathy and little-girlish and, again, Harry felt a powerful rush of dislike that he could not explain to himself; all he knew was that he loathed everything about her, from her stupid voice to her fluffy pink cardigan. She gave another little throat-clearing cough ('hem, hem') and continued.
‘Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!’ She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. ‘And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!’
Harry glanced around. None of the faces he could see looked happy. On the contrary, they all looked rather taken-aback at being addressed as though they were five years old.
‘I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!’
Students exchanged looks at this; some of them were barely concealing grins.
‘I'll be her friend as long as I don't have to borrow that cardigan,’ Parvati whispered to Lavender, and both of them lapsed into silent giggles.
Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again ('hem, hem'), but when she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike and now her words had a dull learned-by-heart sound to them.
The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them for ever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching.’
Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back to her. Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike, and Harry distinctly saw her exchange a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little ‘hem, hem’ and went on with her speech.
‘Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation ...’
Harry found his attentiveness ebbing, as though his brain was slipping in and out of tune. The quiet that always filled the Hall when Dumbledore was speaking was breaking up as students put their heads together, whispering and giggling. Over on the Ravenclaw table Cho Chang was chatting animatedly with her friends. A few seats along from Cho, Luna Lovegood had got out The Quibbler again. Meanwhile, at the Hufflepuff table Ernie Macmillan was one of the few still staring at Professor Umbridge, but he was glassy-eyed and Harry was sure he was only pretending to listen in an attempt to live up to the new prefect's badge gleaming on his chest.
Professor Umbridge did not seem to notice the restlessness of her audience. Harry had the impression that a full-scale riot could have broken out under her nose and she would have ploughed on with her speech. The teachers, however, were still listening very attentively, and Hermione seemed to be drinking in every word Umbridge spoke, though, judging by her expression, they were not at all to her taste.
‘... because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognised as errors of judgement. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited.’
She sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though Harry noticed that several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding properly, Dumbledore had stood up again.
‘Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating,’ he said, bowing to her. ‘Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held ...’
‘Yes, it certainly was illuminating,’ said Hermione in a low voice.
‘You're not telling me you enjoyed it?’ Ron said quietly, turning a glazed face towards Hermione. ‘That was about the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy.’
‘I said illuminating, not enjoyable,’ said Hermione. ‘It explained a lot.’
‘Did it?’ said Harry in surprise. ‘Sounded like a load of waffle to me.’
There was some important stuff hidden in the waffle,’ said Hermione grimly.
‘Was there?’ said Ron blankly.
‘How about: “progress for progress's sake must be discouraged"? How about: “pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited"?’
‘Well, what does that mean?’ said Ron impatiently.
‘I'll tell you what it means,’ said Hermione through gritted teeth. ‘It means the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts.’
There was a great clattering and banging all around them; Dumbledore had obviously just dismissed the school, because everyone was standing up ready to leave the Hall. Hermione jumped up, looking flustered.
‘Ron, we're supposed to show the first-years where to go!’
‘Oh yeah,’ said Ron, who had obviously forgotten. ‘Hey—hey, you lot! Midgets!’
‘Ron!’
‘Well, they are, they're titchy ...’
‘I know, but you can't call them midgets!—First-years!’ Hermione called commandingly along the table. ‘This way, please!’
A group of new students walked shyly up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, all of them trying hard not to lead the group. They did indeed seem very small; Harry was sure he had not appeared that young when he had arrived here. He grinned at them. A blond boy next to Euan Abercrombie looked petrified; he nudged Euan and whispered something in his ear. Euan Abercrombie looked equally frightened and stole a horrified look at Harry, who felt the grin slide off his face like Stinksap.
‘See you later,’ he said dully to Ron and Hermione and he made his way out of the Great Hall alone, doing everything he could to ignore more whispering, staring and pointing as he passed. He kept his eyes fixed ahead as he wove his way through the crowd in the Entrance Hall, then he hurried up the marble staircase, took a couple of concealed short cuts and had soon left most of the crowds behind.
He had been stupid not to expect this, he thought angrily as he walked through the much emptier upstairs corridors. Of course everyone was staring at him; he had emerged from the Triwizard maze two months previously clutching the dead body of a fellow student and claiming to have seen Lord Voldemort return to power. There had not been time last term to explain himself before they'd all had to go home—even if he had felt up to giving the whole school a detailed account of the terrible events in that graveyard.
Harry had reached the end of the corridor to the Gryffindor common room and come to a halt in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady before he realised that he did not know the new password.
‘Er ...’ he said glumly, staring up at the Fat Lady, who smoothed the folds of her pink satin dress and looked sternly back at him.
‘No password, no entrance,’ she said loftily.
‘Harry, I know it!’ Someone panted up behind him and he turned to see Neville jogging towards him. ‘Guess what it is? I'm actually going to be able to remember it for once— ’ He waved the stunted little cactus he had shown them on the train. ‘Mimbuius mimbletonia!’
‘Correct,’ said the Fat Lady, and her portrait swung open towards them like a door, revealing a circular hole in the wall behind, through which Harry and Neville now climbed.
The Gryffindor common room looked as welcoming as ever, a cosy circular tower room full of dilapidated squashy armchairs and rickety old tables. A fire was crackling merrily in the grate and a few people were warming their hands by it before going up to their dormitories; on the other side of the room Fred and George Weasley were pinning something up on the noticeboard. Harry waved goodnight to them and headed straight for the door to the boys’ dormitories; he was not in much of a mood for talking at the moment. Neville followed him.
Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan had reached the dormitory first and were in the process of covering the walls beside their beds with posters and photographs. They had been talking as Harry pushed open the door but stopped abruptly the moment they saw him. Harry wondered whether they had been talking about him, then whether he was being paranoid.
‘Hi,’ he said, moving across to his own trunk and opening it.
‘Hey, Harry,’ said Dean, who was putting on a pair of pyjamas in the West Ham colours. ‘Good holiday?’
‘Not bad,’ muttered Harry, as a true account of his holiday would have taken most of the night to relate and he could not face it. ‘You?’
‘Yeah, it was OK,’ chuckled Dean. ‘Better than Seamus's, anyway, he was just telling me.’
‘Why, what happened, Seamus?’ Neville asked as he placed his Mimbuius mimbletonia tenderly on his bedside cabinet.
Seamus did not answer immediately; he was making rather a meal of ensuring that his poster of the Kenmare Kestrels Quidditch team was quite straight. Then he said, with his back still turned to Harry, ‘Me mam didn't want me to come back.’
‘What?’ said Harry, pausing in the act of pulling off his robes.
‘She didn't want me to come back to Hogwarts.’
Seamus turned away from his poster and pulled his own pyjamas out of his trunk, still not looking at Harry.
‘But—why?’ said Harry, astonished. He knew that Seamus's mother was a witch and could not understand, therefore, why she should have come over so Dursleyish.
Seamus did not answer until he had finished buttoning his pyjamas.
‘Well,’ he said in a measured voice, ‘I suppose ... because of you.’
‘What d'you mean?’ said Harry quickly.
His heart was beating rather fast. He felt vaguely as though something was closing in on him.
‘Well,’ said Seamus again, still avoiding Harry's eye, she ... er ... well, it's not just you, it's Dumbledore, too ...’
‘She believes the Daily Prophet?’ said Harry. ‘She thinks I'm a liar and Dumbledore's an old fool?’
Seamus looked up at him.
‘Yeah, something like that.’
Harry said nothing. He threw his wand down on to his bedside table, pulled off his robes, stuffed them angrily into his trunk and pulled on his pyjamas. He was sick of it: sick of being the person who is stared at and talked about all the time. If any of them knew, if any of them had the faintest idea what it felt like to be the one all these things had happened to ... Mrs. Finnigan had no idea, the stupid woman, he thought savagely.
He got into bed and made to pull the hangings closed around him, but before he could do so, Seamus said, ‘Look ... what did happen that night when ... you know, when ... with Cedric Diggory and all?’
Seamus sounded nervous and eager at the same time. Dean, who had been bending over his trunk trying to retrieve a slipper, went oddly still and Harry knew he was listening hard.
‘What are you asking me for?’ Harry retorted. ‘Just read the Daily Prophet like your mother, why don't you? That'll tell you all you need to know.’
‘Don't you have a go at my mother,’ Seamus snapped.
‘I'll have a go at anyone who calls me a liar,’ said Harry.
‘Don't talk to me like that!’
‘I'll talk to you how I want,’ said Harry, his temper rising so fast he snatched his wand back from his bedside table. ‘If you've got a problem sharing a dormitory with me, go and ask McGonagall if you can be moved ... stop your mummy worrying— ’
‘Leave my mother out of this, Potter!’
‘What's going on?’
Ron had appeared in the doorway. His wide eyes travelled from Harry, who was kneeling on his bed with his wand pointing at Seamus, to Seamus, who was standing there with his fists raised.
‘He's having a go at my mother!’ Seamus yelled.
‘What?’ said Ron. ‘Harry wouldn't do that—we met your mother, we liked her ...’
‘That's before she started believing every word the stinking Daily Prophet writes about me!’ said Harry at the top of his voice.
‘Oh,’ said Ron, comprehension dawning across his freckled face. ‘Oh ... right.’
‘You know what?’ said Seamus heatedly, casting Harry a venomous look. ‘He's right, I don't want to share a dormitory with him any more, he's mad.’
‘That's out of order, Seamus,’ said Ron, whose ears were starting to glow red—always a danger sign.
‘Out of order, am I?’ shouted Seamus, who in contrast with Ron was going pale. ‘You believe all the rubbish he's come out with about You-Know-Who, do you, you reckon he's telling the truth?’
‘Yeah, I do!’ said Ron angrily.
‘Then you're mad, too,’ said Seamus in disgust.
‘Yeah? Well, unfortunately for you, pal, I'm also a prefect!’ said Ron, jabbing himself in the chest with a finger. ‘So unless you want detention, watch your mouth!’
Seamus looked for a few seconds as though detention would be a reasonable price to pay to say what was going through his mind; but with a noise of contempt he turned on his heel, vaulted into bed and pulled the hangings shut with such violence that they were ripped from the bed and fell in a dusty pile to the floor. Ron glared at Seamus, then looked at Dean and Neville.
‘Anyone else's parents got a problem with Harry?’ he said aggressively.
‘My parents are Muggles, mate,’ said Dean, shrugging. ‘They don't know nothing about no deaths at Hogwarts, because I'm not stupid enough to tell them.’
‘You don't know my mother, she'd weasel anything out of anyone!’ Seamus snapped at him. ‘Anyway, your parents don't get the Daily Prophet.They don't know our Headmaster's been sacked from the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards because he's losing his marbles—’
‘My gran says that's rubbish,’ piped up Neville. ‘She says it's the Daily Prophet that's going downhill, not Dumbledore. She's cancelled our subscription. We believe Harry,’ said Neville simply. He climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin, looking owlishly over them at Seamus. ‘My grans always said You-Know-Who would come back one day. She says if Dumbledore says he's back, he's back.’
Harry felt a rush of gratitude towards Neville. Nobody else said anything. Seamus got out his wand, repaired the bed hangings and vanished behind them. Dean got into bed, rolled over and fell silent. Neville, who appeared to have nothing more to say either, was gazing fondly at his moonlit cactus.
Harry lay back on his pillows while Ron bustled around the next bed, putting his things away. He fell, shaken by the argument with Seamus, whom he had always liked very much. How many more people were going to suggest that he was lying, or unhinged?
Had Dumbledore suffered like this all summer, as first the Wizengamot, then the International Confederation of Wizards had thrown him from their ranks? Was it anger at Harry, perhaps, that had stopped Dumbledore getting in touch with him for months? The two of them were in this together, after all; Dumbledore had believed Harry, announced his version of events to the whole school and then to the wider wizarding community. Anyone who thought Harry was a liar had to think that Dumbledore was, too, or else that Dumbledore had been hoodwinked ...
They'll know we're right in the end, thought Harry miserably, as Ron got into bed and extinguished the last candle in the dormitory. But he wondered how many more attacks like Seamus's he would have to endure before that time came.

分院帽的新歌

    哈利不想告诉别人，他和卢娜有了同样的幻觉——　如果真是幻觉的话，所以他在车厢里坐下来，反手把门重重地关上后，再也没有谈论那些马的事。然而，他忍不住去注视着在窗外移动的那些马的侧影。

    “你们大家都看见那个叫格拉普兰的女人了吧？”金妮问，“她又回这儿来做什么呢？海格不会离开吧？”

    “他走了我才高兴呢，”卢娜说，“他可不算一个好老师，对吧？”

    “不，他是好老师！”哈利、罗恩和金妮气愤地说。

    哈利不满地瞪着赫敏。赫敏清了清喉咙，赶紧说道：“嗯？？是啊？？他是很不错的。”

    “得了吧，我们拉文克劳的同学都认为他是个荒唐可笑的人。”卢娜说，一副不管不顾、大大咧咧的劲儿。

    “那说明你们的幽默感一塌糊涂。”罗恩不客气地回敬道，这时身下的车轮吱-140　？吱嘎嘎地开始转动了。

    卢娜似乎并没有因罗恩的无礼而恼怒，相反，她盯着罗恩看了片刻，就好像他是一个还算有趣的电视节目。

    马车排成一队，吱吱嘎嘎、摇摇晃晃地在路上行走。他们经过通向学校场地的大门两边那些高高的石柱，柱子顶上是带翼的野猪，这时哈利探着身子。想看看禁林旁边海格的小屋里有没有灯光，可是场地上一片漆黑。霍格沃茨城堡隐隐约约地越来越近：一座座高耸的塔楼在黑暗的夜空衬托下显得更加漆黑，偶尔可见一扇窗户在他们头顶上射出火红耀眼的光芒。

    马车丁丁当当地停在了通往橡木大门的石阶旁，哈利第一个下了车。他又转脸去望禁林那边有没有亮灯的窗户，然而海格的小屋里显然没有一点生命的迹象。他满不情愿地把目光转向那些奇怪的、皮包骨头的动物，它们静静地站在夜晚寒冷的空气中，空洞的白眼睛闪闪发亮。他心里还隐约希望它们已经消失不见了呢。

    哈利看见的东西罗恩看不见，这种经历以前曾经有过一次，但那次只是镜子里的映像，比一百匹看上去实实在在、拉得动一队马车的牲畜要虚幻得多。如果卢娜的话是可信的，那么这些牲畜一直就存在，只是人们看不见而已。那么，为什么哈利突然能看见它们，而罗恩却看不见呢？“你到底走不走啊？”罗恩在他身边问道。“噢？？好的。”哈利赶紧说道，于是他们汇人人群，匆匆走上石阶，进入了城堡。门厅被火把映照得红通通的，回响着学生们的脚步声。他们穿过石板铺的地面，向右边通往礼堂的两扇大门走去，开学宴会就在那里举行。

    礼堂里满满当当地摆着四张长长的学院餐桌，上面是没有星星的漆黑的天花板，与他们透过高高的窗户看见的外面天空一模一样。餐桌上空飘浮着一根根蜡烛，照亮了点缀在礼堂里的那几个银白色的鬼魂，照亮了同学们兴奋的面庞。他们在兴高采烈地谈话，交换暑假里的新闻，大声跟其他学院的朋友打招呼，互相审视着对方的新发型和新衣服。哈利又一次注意到，每当他走过时，人们都凑在一起交头接耳。他咬紧牙关，努力装出没看见、无所谓的样子。

    卢娜离开他们坐到拉文克劳的桌子旁去了。他们刚走到格兰芬多的桌前，金妮就被几个四年级同学大呼小叫地拉过去坐了。哈利、罗恩、赫敏和纳威在桌子中央找到几个座位坐在一起，他们一边是格兰芬多学院的鬼魂——　差点没头的尼克，另一边是帕瓦蒂佩蒂尔和拉文德布朗。两个女生虚情假意、过分热情地跟哈利打招呼，这使哈利感觉到她们肯定一秒钟前还在议论自己。不过，他还有更重要的事情要操心呢。他的目光越过同学们的头顶，向礼堂前头的那张长长的教工桌子望去。

    “他不在那儿。”

    罗恩和赫敏的目光也在教工桌子上扫来扫去，其实这根本没有必要。海格的那副大块头，不管在哪个阵容里都会一下予凸显出来。

    “他不可能离开的。”罗恩说，声音里微微透着担忧。

    “当然不会。”哈利坚决地说。

    “你们说他不会？？受伤什么的吧，会吗？”赫敏不安地说。

    “不会。”哈利毫不迟疑地说。

    “可是那他去哪儿了呢？”

    沉默了一会儿，哈利说话了，声音压得很低，以免让纳威、帕。瓦蒂和拉文德听见：“也许他还没有回来呢。你们知道的——　还没完成任务——　就是他暑假里为邓布刺多做的那件事情。”“是？？是，就是这样。”罗恩说，似乎一下子释然了，可是赫敏咬着嘴唇，目光来回扫视着教工桌子，似乎希望能为海格的缺席找到一个有说服力的解释。“那是谁？”她敏锐地说，伸手指着教工桌子的中间。

    哈利的目光跟随她所指的方向望去，先是落在了邓布利多教授身上。邓布利多坐在长长的教工桌子正中间的那把金色高背椅上，穿着布满银色星星的深紫色长袍，戴着一顶配套的帽子。邓布利多把头歪向了坐在他旁边的那个女人，她正对着他的耳朵说话。哈利觉得这女人看上去就像某人的未结过婚的老姑妈，身材又矮又胖，留着一头拳曲的灰褐色短发，上面还打着一个非常难看的粉红色大蝴蝶结，跟她罩在长袍外面的那件毛绒绒的粉红色开襟毛衣很相配。这时，她微微转过脸，端起高脚酒杯喝了一日，于是哈利看见了一张苍白的、癞蛤蟆似的脸和一对眼皮松垂、眼珠凸出的眼睛。他一下子认出来了，非常震惊。

    “就是那个姓乌姆里奇的女人！”

    “谁？”赫敏说。

    “她参加了对我的审讯，她替福吉工作！”

    “多漂亮的开襟毛衣啊！”罗恩假笑着说。

    “她为福吉工作！”赫敏重复一遍，皱起了眉头，“那她到这里来做什么呢？”

    “不知道？？”

    赫敏仔细看着教工桌子，眯起了眼睛。

    “不，”她喃喃地说，“不会，肯定不会？？”

    哈利不明白她在说什么，但也没有追问。他的注意力被刚出现在教工桌子后面的格拉普兰教授吸引住了。她走到桌子的最尽头，坐在了原本应该属于海格的座位上。那就是说，一年级新生肯定已经渡过湖来到了城堡。果然，几秒钟后，通往大厅的门开了，长长的一队看上去惊魂未定的一年级新生由麦格教授领着走进了礼堂。麦格教授手里端着一只凳子，上面放了一顶古老的巫师帽，帽子上补丁摞补丁，磨损得起了毛边的帽檐旁有一道很宽的裂口。礼堂里嗡嗡的谈话声渐渐平息了。一年级新生在教工桌子前排成一排，面对着其他年级的同学。麦格教授小心地把凳子放在他们前面，然后退到了后边。一年级新生的脸在烛光的映照下闪着惨白的光。队伍中间的一个小男孩看上去似乎在瑟瑟发抖。哈利一闪念间，想起当年他站在那里，等待那场将要决定他属于哪个学院的神秘测试时，心里曾是何等的忐忑不安。全校的师生都屏住呼吸等待着。接着，帽檐旁的那道裂口像嘴一样张开了，分院帽大声唱起歌来：很久以前我还是顶新帽，那时霍格沃茨还没有建好，高贵学堂的四位创建者，以为他们永远不会分道扬镳。同一个目标将他们联在一起，彼此的愿望是那么相同一致：要建成世上最好的魔法学校，让他们的学识相传、延续。“我们将共同建校，共同教学！”四位好友的主意十分坚决，然而他们做梦也没有想到，有朝一日他们会彼此分裂。这个世上还有什么朋友。能比斯莱特林和格兰芬多更好？除非你算上另一对挚友——　赫奇帕奇和拉文克劳？这样的好事怎么会搞糟？这样的友情怎么会一笔勾销？唉，我亲眼目睹了这个悲哀的故事，所以能在这里向大家细述。斯莱特林说：“我们所教的学生，他们的血统必须最最纯正。”拉文克劳说：“我们所教的学生，他们的智力必须高人一等。”格兰芬多说：“我们所教的学生。必须英勇无畏，奋不顾身。”赫奇帕奇说：“我要教许多人，并且对待他们一视同仁。”

    这些分歧第一次露出墙倪，就引起了一场小小的争吵。

    四位创建者每人拥有一个学院，只招收他们各自想要的少年。

    斯莱特林牧的巫师如他本人，血统纯正、诡计多端。

    只有那些头脑最敏锐的后辈，才能聆听拉文克劳的教诲。若有谁大胆无畏、喜爱冒险，便被勇敢的格兰芬多收进学院。其余的人都被好心的赫奇帕奇所接收，她把自己全部的本领向他们传授。

    四个学院和它们的创建人，就这样保持着牢固而真挚的友情。在那许多愉快的岁月里，霍格沃茨的教学愉快而和谐。

    可是后来慢慢地出现了分裂，并因我们的缺点和恐惧而愈演愈烈。四个学院就像四根石柱，曾将我们的学校牢牢撑住。

    现在却互相反目，纠纷不断，各个都想把大权独揽。有那么一段时光，学校眼看着就要夭亡。

    无数的吵闹，无数的争斗，昔日的好朋友反目成仇。后来终于在某一天清晨，年迈的斯莱特林突然出走。尽管那时纷争已经平患，他还是灰心地离我们而去。四个创建者只剩下三个，从此四个学院的情形，　再不像过去设想的那样和睦相处，团结一心。

    现在分院帽就在你们面前，你们都知道了事情的渊源：我把你们分进每个学院，因为我的职责不容改变。但是今年我要多说几旬，请你们把我的新歌仔细听取：尽管我注定要使你们分裂，但我担心这样做并不正确。尽管我必须履行我的职责，把每年的新生分成四份，但我担心这样的分类，会导致我所惧怕的崩溃。哦，知道危险，读懂征兆，历史的教训给我们以警告，我们的霍格沃茨面临着危险，校外的仇敌正虎视眈眈。我们的内部必须紧密团结，不然一切就会从内部瓦解。我已对你们直言相告，我已为你们拉响警报？？现在让我们开始分院。

    帽子说完又一动不动了。四下里响起了掌声，但其间夹杂着窃窃私语，这在哈利的记忆里可是头一次。在整个礼堂里，同学们都在和坐在身边的人交头接耳，哈利和其他人一起拍着巴掌，心里很清楚他们在议论什么。“今年有点跑题了，是不是？”罗恩扬起眉毛说。“确实是这样。”哈利说。通常，分院帽只描述霍格沃茨四个学院所看重的不同品质以及它自己给学生分类的任务。哈利不记得它什么时候试图给学校提出忠告。“不知道它以前有没有发出过警告？”赫敏说，声音微微显得有些不安。“有过的，有过的，”差点没头的尼克很知情地说，隔着纳威朝赫敏探过头来（纳威恐惧地退缩着，一个鬼魂从你身体里穿过去，这是很不舒服的），“分院帽觉得自己在道义上有责任向学校提出适当的警告，如果它觉得——　”　可是麦格教授正等着报出一年级新生的名单，这会儿用十分严厉的目光瞪着那些交头接耳的同学。差点没头的尼克用一根透明的手指压在嘴唇上，一本正经地坐得笔直，礼堂里的嗡嗡议论声戛然而止。麦格教授又皱着眉头扫了一-145　？眼四张桌子，然后垂眼望着手里那张长长的羊皮纸，大声报出第一个名字。

    “尤安阿伯克龙比。”

    哈利刚才注意到的那个神色惊慌的小男孩跌跌撞撞地走上前，把帽子戴在了头上。幸亏有他那两只大得出奇的耳朵卡住，帽子才没有滑落到肩膀上。分院帽考虑了片刻，随即帽檐旁的裂口又张开了，大声宣布道：“格兰芬多！”

    哈利和格兰芬多的同学们一齐热烈鼓掌，尤安踉踉跄跄地走到他们的桌旁坐了下来，看他那副神情，他似乎巴不得地上有个洞让他钻进去，再也没有人盯着他看了。

    慢慢地，那支长长的一年级新生队伍一点点缩短了。在麦格教授报出名字和分院帽宣布分院结果之间的空隙，哈利可以听见罗恩的肚子在咕咕直叫。最后，罗斯泽勒被分进了赫奇帕奇，麦格教授拿起帽子和凳子大步走开了，这时邓布利多教授站了起来。

    尽管哈利最近对他的校长有过种种不满的情绪，但此刻看到邓布利多站在他们大家面前，他还是松了口气。海格不见了踪影，马车前面突然出现了那些像龙一样的怪马，使他觉得他这次返回霍格沃茨，尽管是他梦寐以求的，却充满令他吃惊的意外，就像一首熟悉的歌曲里出现了不和谐的音符。但眼下的情形至少是正常的：在开学宴会开始前，他们的校长站起来问候他们大家。

    “欢迎我们的新生，”邓布利多声音洪亮地说，他双臂张开，嘴上绽开灿烂的笑容，“欢迎！欢迎我们的老生——　欢迎你们回来！演讲的时间多得是，但不是现在。痛痛快快地吃吧！”

    礼堂里发出一片赞赏的笑声和热烈的鼓掌声，邓布利多端端正正地坐下来，把长长的胡子甩到肩膀上，不让它们挡着他的盘子——　美味佳肴突然从天而降，五张长桌上一下子堆满了大块牛肉、馅饼、一盘盘的蔬菜、面包、果酱和一壶壶的南瓜汁，因不堪重负雨发出阵阵呻吟。

    “太好了。”罗恩馋涎欲滴地叹了口气，抓起离他最近的一盘排骨，开始一块块地往他的盘子里堆，差点没头的尼克在一旁郁闷地看着他。

    “分院之前你想说什么？”赫敏问鬼魂，“就是关于帽子提出警告的事？”

    “噢，对了，”尼克说，他似乎很高兴有理由把目光从罗恩身上挪开，罗恩这会儿几乎是在狼吞虎咽地吃着烤土豆，“是啊，我以前好几次听过分院帽提出警告，总是在它感觉到学校面临着巨大危险的时候。当然啦，它的忠告每次都是一样的：团结一致，保持内部的稳定。”

    “托系目怎子度月小于危险？”罗恩说。

    他嘴巴里塞得满满的，哈利觉得他能够发出声音来就已经很了不起了。

    “对不起，你说什么？”差点没头的尼克很有礼貌地说，赫敏则露出一副厌恶-146　？的神情。罗恩使劲吞下嘴里的东西，说：“它只是一顶帽子，怎么会知道学校有危险呢？”

    “我不知道。”差点没头的尼克说，“当然啦，它放在邓布利多的办公室里，所以我敢说它在那里昕到了一些什么。”

    “它希望四个学院的人都成为朋友？”哈利说，他朝斯莱特林的桌子望去，德拉科马尔福正在那里侃侃而谈，“这种可能性很小啊。”

    “哎，你不应该是这种态度。”尼克责备地说，“和平共处，共同合作，这才是关键。我们这些鬼魂虽然属于不同的学院，但始终保持着亲密的友谊。尽管格兰芬多和斯莱特林之间竞争激烈，我却做梦也没有想过找血人巴罗吵架。”

    “那只是因为你害怕他。”罗恩说。

    差点没头的尼克显出一副受了很大侮辱的样子。

    “害怕？我相信我——　尼古拉斯德敏西一波平顿爵士，在我的一生中从没有犯过胆怯的错误！我血管里流淌着高贵的血液——　”

    “什么血液？”罗恩问，“你肯定不会还有——　？”

    “那是一种修辞手法！”差点没头的尼克恼火极了，脑袋在割开一半的脖子上危险地颤动着，“我想，我仍然可以享受随心所欲地说话的自由，尽管我已不再拥有吃喝的乐趣！但是我已经习惯了同学们拿我的死亡开玩笑，我可以告诉你！”

    “尼克，他并不是真的在嘲笑你！”赫敏说，生气地白了罗恩一眼。

    不幸的是，罗恩的嘴里又塞得快要爆炸了，他只能含糊不清地嘟哝一句“不是有意嘲笑你”，而尼克似乎认为这句道歉过于轻描淡写。他一下子飞到空中，正了正插着羽毛的帽子，离开他们飘向桌子的另一头，坐到克里维家的两兄弟——　科林和丹尼斯中间去了。

    “你干的好事，罗恩！”赫敏严厉地说。

    “什么？”罗恩总算把满嘴的东西咽了下去，不服气地说，“我问一个简单的问题都不允许吗？”

    “行了，别说啦。”赫敏没好气地说。在后来吃饭的时候，他们俩一直气鼓鼓地沉默着。

    哈利对他们闹口角已经见怪不怪，觉得犯不着去给他们调解。他觉得正好利用这个时间津津有味地享用他的牛排和腰子馅饼，接着是满满一大盘他最喜欢的糖浆水果馅饼。

    同学们都吃饱喝足了，礼堂的声音渐渐嘈杂起来，这时邓布利多又一次站起身。说话声立刻停止了，大家都把脸转向了校长。哈利这会儿已经感到有点昏昏欲睡了。他那张四柱床正在楼上某个地方等着他呢，那么温暖而柔软？？“好了，既然我们正在消化又一顿无比丰盛的美味，我请求大家安静一会儿，听我像往常一样讲讲新学期的注意事项。”邓布利多说，“一年级新生应该知道，狩猎场里的禁林是学生不能进去的——　这一点，我们的几位高年级同学现在也应该知道了。”（哈利、罗恩和赫敏交换着调皮的笑容。）“管理员费尔奇先生请求我，他还告诉我这已经是第四百二十六次了，请求我提醒你们大家，课问不许在走廊上施魔法，还有许多其他规定，都列在那张长长的单子上，贴在费尔奇先生办公室的门上。

    “今年，我们的教师队伍有两个变动。我们很高兴她欢迎格拉普兰教授回来，她将教你们保护神奇生物课。我们同样高兴地介绍乌姆里奇教授，我们的黑魔法防御术课的新老师。”

    礼堂里响起一片礼貌的、但不很热情的掌声，哈利、罗恩和赫敏则交换了一个略微有些紧张的目光。邓布利多没有说格拉普兰要教多长时间。邓布利多继续说道：“学院魁地奇球队的选拔将于——　”

    他猛地顿住话头，询问地望着乌姆里奇教授。由于她站起来并不比坐着的时候高出多少，所以一时问谁也不明白邓布利多为什么突然停佳不说了，这时只听乌姆里奇教授清了清嗓子：“咳，咳。”大家这才明白她已经站起来，正准备发表讲话呢。

    邓布利多只是一刹那间显出惊讶的神情，接着他就机敏地坐了下去，专注地望着乌姆里奇教授，似乎正迫不及待地想听她说话呢。其他教师则没有这样巧妙地掩饰他们的惊诧。斯普劳特教授的眉毛都快蹿到她飘拂的头发里去了，麦格教授把嘴巴抿得那么紧，是哈利从没见过的。以前从没有哪位新教师打断过邓布利多。许多学生都在暗暗发笑：这个女人显然不懂得霍格沃茨的规矩。

    “谢谢你，校长，”乌姆里奇教授假笑着说，“谢谢你说了这么热情的欢迎辞。”

    她的声音又高又尖，还带着气声，像小姑娘的声音一样，哈利又感到一种突如其来的强烈反感，他自己也不能解释这是为什么。他只知道他讨厌这个女人的一切，从她那假模假式的声音，到她身上那件毛绒绒的粉红色开襟毛衣。她又轻轻咳嗽几下清了清嗓子（咳，咳），继续往下说道：“嗯，我必须说，能回到霍格沃茨真是太好了！”她咧嘴微笑着，露出嘴里很尖的牙齿，“　看到这些愉快的小脸蛋朝上望着我，　太好了！”

    哈利朝周围看了看，他看到的面孔没有一张是愉快的。相反，他们都显得很吃惊，居然有人把他们当成五岁的小孩子。

    “我迫切地希望早日认识你们大家，我相信我们会成为非常好的朋友！”

    同学们听了这话，互相交换着目光。有些人几乎毫不掩饰地露出了一脸坏笑。：“我会跟她做朋友的，只要别让我借她那件开襟毛衣。”帕瓦蒂小声对拉文德说，两个人都不出声地哧哧笑了起来。

    乌姆里奇教授又清了清嗓子（咳，咳），可是当她继续说话时，她声音里的一些气声听不见了。现在她的声音变得一本正经得多，话也说得干巴巴的，好像那些话早就熟记在她心里似的。

    “魔法部一向认为，教育青年巫师是一项十分重要的事情。你们与生俱来的一些宝贵天赋，如果不在认真细致的指导下得到培养和锻炼，可能会毫无结果。魔法世界独有的古老的技艺，必须代代相传，不然就会消失殆尽。我们的祖先积累下的珍贵的魔法知识宝库，必须由那些有幸从事高贵的教育职业的人们对它们加以保护、补充和完善。”

    说到这里，乌姆里奇教授停住话头，对着其他老师微微鞠了一躬，而他们谁也没有朝她回礼。麦格教授的两道黑眉毛紧紧拧在一起，使她看上去活像一只老鹰，而且哈利清清楚楚地看见，当乌姆里奇又轻轻“咳，咳”两下继续她的演讲时，麦格教授和斯普劳特教授交换了一个意味深长的目光。

    “霍格沃茨的历届校长，在肩负管理这所历史名校的重任时都有所创新，这是完全应该的，因为如果没有进步，就会停滞，就会衰败。然而同时，为进步而进步的做法是绝不应当鼓励的，我们的传统经过千锤百炼，经常是不需要拙劣的修正的。要达到一种平衡，在旧与新的之间，在恒久与变化之间，在传统与创新之间？？”

    哈利发现自己的注意力渐渐不集中了，似乎他的大脑开起了小差。邓布利多说话时四下里鸦雀无声，现在同学们都在交头接耳，窃窃私语，咯咯发笑，礼堂里一片嘈杂。在那边拉文克劳的桌上，秋张正在兴高采烈地跟朋友们聊天。和她隔着几个座位的卢娜洛夫古德又掏出了那本《唱唱反调》。与此同时，在赫奇帕奇的桌上，厄尼麦克米兰是仍然盯着乌姆里奇教授的为数不多的几个同学之一，但是他的目光呆滞无神，哈利可以肯定他只是在假装认真听讲，为的是不辜负他胸前那枚崭新的、闪闪发光的级长徽章。

    乌姆里奇教授似乎没有注意到听众的坐立不安。哈利有一种感觉，即使她鼻子底下发生了一场大规模的暴动，她也会继续慢条斯理地演讲下去。然而教师们一个个听得都很仔细，赫敏似乎全神贯注地把乌姆里奇说的每一个字都听进去了，但从她的表情看，这些话她并不爱听。

    “？？因为有些变化取得了好的效果，而另一些变化到了适当的时候，就会被发现是决策失误。同时，有些旧的习惯将被保留，这是无可厚非的，而有些习惯已经陈旧过时，就必须抛弃。让我们不断前进，进人一个开明、高效和合乎情理的新时代，坚决保持应该保持的，完善需要完善的，摒弃那些我们应该禁止的。”

    她坐了下去。邓布利多开始鼓掌，其他教师也跟着拍手，但哈利注意到他们有些人只拍了一两下就把手放下了。几个学生也一起鼓掌，但大多数学生只听了两三句就开了小差，这会儿根本没有意识到讲话已经结束，没等他们开始好好鼓掌，邓布利多就又站了起来。

    “非常感谢你，乌姆里奇教授，你的讲话非常有启发性。”说着，他冲她欠了欠身，“好了，正如我刚才说的，魁地奇球的选拔将于？？”

    “是啊，确实很有启发性。”赫敏压低声音说。

    “你该不是说你听得津津有味吧？”罗恩小声问，神情呆滞的脸转向赫敏，“这大概是我听到过的最枯燥乏味的讲话了，而我还是在珀西身边长大的呢。”

    “我说的是有启发性，不是有趣味性，”赫敏说，“它能说明许多问题。”

    “　是吗？”　哈利惊讶地说，“在我听来像一大通废话。”

    “废话里藏着一些重要的东西。”赫敏严肃地说。

    “是吗？”罗恩茫然地问。

    “什么叫‘为进步而进步的做法是决不应当鼓励的’？什么叫‘摒弃那些我们应该禁止的’？”

    “哎呀，到底是什么意思呢？”罗恩不耐烦地说。

    “我来告诉你是什么意思吧，”赫敏咬着牙说，“这就说明魔法部在干预霍格沃茨。”

    周围响起一片桌椅板凳的碰撞声，显然邓布利多已经宣布全校师生解散，因为大家都站起来准备离开礼堂了。赫敏一跃而起，显出很惊慌的样子。

    “罗恩，我们应该去给一年级新生指路的！”

    “哎呀，对了，”罗恩说，显然他已经把这件事忘得精光，“喂——　喂，你们大家！小不点儿们！”

    “罗恩！”

    “咳，本来就是嘛，他们这么小？？”

    “我知道，但你也不能管他们叫小不点儿！——　一年级新生！”赫敏很威严地冲着桌子那边喊，“请这边走！”

    一群新生很害羞地从格兰芬多和赫奇帕奇桌子之间的过道中走了过来，一个个都尽量缩在后面，不敢出头。他们看上去确实很小，哈利可以肯定，自己当初来这儿的时候肯定没有显得这么稚嫩。他咧嘴微笑地看着他们。尤安阿伯克龙比旁边的一个金黄头发的男孩似乎被吓呆了，他用胳膊肘捅捅尤安，对着他的耳朵说了几句什么。尤安-阿伯克龙比也显出十分害怕的样子，偷偷地用惊恐的目光看了看哈利，哈利感觉到自己脸上的笑容像臭汁一样消失了。

    “待会儿见。”他对罗恩和赫敏说，然后独自朝礼堂外走去，一路上尽量不去注意人们盯视的目光，以及他们的悄声议论和指指点点。他目不斜视地穿过门厅里拥挤的人群，匆匆走上大理石楼梯，抄了两条隐蔽的近路，很快就把大多数人甩在了后面。

    他真是昏了头，居然没有想到这一点。他一边走在楼上清静得多的走廊上，-150　？一边这样气愤地想道。肯定每个人都要盯着他看的。他两个月前刚从三强争霸赛的迷宫里钻出来，怀里抱着一位同学的尸体，口口声声宣称说看见伏地魔东山再起了。上学期，他没有来得及把事情解释清楚，大家就不得不放假回家了——　尽管他当时鼓足勇气想把那片墓地上发生的可怕事情原原本本地告诉全校师生。

    哈利来到通向格兰芬多公共休息室的走廊尽头，在胖夫人肖像前刹住脚步，这才想起他还不知道新的口令是什么。“嗯？？”他愁眉苦脸地抬头望着胖夫人，胖夫人抹平她那件粉红色缎子衣服上的褶皱，用严厉的目光看着他。“没有口令，就不能通过。”她傲慢地说。

    “哈利，我知道！”身后有个人气喘吁吁地说，哈利转身看见纳威慢慢朝他跑来，“你猜是什么？我这次居然能记住了——　”他挥动着他在火车上拿给他们看过的那盆发育不良的小仙人掌：“米布米宝！”

    “对啦。”胖夫人说，她的肖像突然像门一样朝他们打开了，露出墙上的一个圆洞，哈利和纳威钻了过去。

    格兰芬多公共休息室看上去像以前一样让人觉得愉快，这是塔楼中的一个圆形房间，摆满了已经磨破的、又松又软的扶手椅和摇摇晃晃的旧桌子。壁炉里噼噼啪啪地燃着旺火，几个人在那里把手烤热了再回楼上的宿舍。在房问的另一边，弗雷德和乔治韦斯莱正把什么东西钉在布告栏里。哈利挥挥手祝他们晚安，就径直朝通向男生宿舍的那扇门走去。此刻他没有多少心情跟别人说话。纳威跟在他后面。

    迪安托马斯和西莫斐尼甘已经先到了宿舍，正在往他们床边的墙上贴海报和照片。哈利把门推开时他们在说话，可是一看见他就突然停住不说了。哈利先是怀疑他们刚才是在议论他，接着又怀疑他自己有点疑神疑鬼。

    “嘿。”他说，一边走到自己的箱子跟前，把它打开了。“你好，哈利，”迪安说，他正在穿一套颜色像火腿一样的睡衣，“暑假过得好吗？”“还行吧。”哈利含混地应付了一句。要原原本本地叙述他在暑假里的经历，恐怕说到下半夜都说不完，他没有精力这么做。“你呢？”

    “啊，挺好的，”迪安轻轻笑着说，“反正比西莫强，他刚才正跟我说呢。”

    “哟，出什么事了，西莫？”纳威一边把他的米布米宝小心翼翼地放在床头柜上一边问道。

    西莫没有马上回答。他正在格外细致地调整那张肯梅尔红隼魁地奇球队①①关于这支球队的情况。请见《神奇的魁地奇球》一书。人民文学出版社。2001年lO月版。

    的海报，确保贴得端端正正。然后，他仍然背冲着哈利说道：“我妈本来不想让我来的。”“什么？”哈利正在脱袍子，听了这话怔住了。“她不想让我回霍格沃茨。”

    西莫离开了那张海报，从他的箱子里拿出自己的睡衣，眼睛仍然没看哈利。“可是——　为什么呢？”哈利问，感到十分震惊。他知道西莫的母亲是个巫师，因此他不明白她怎么会变得像德思礼家的人一样了。西莫没有马上回答，一直把睡衣上的纽扣都扣好了才说话。“嗯，”他斟词酌句地说，“我想大概是？？因为你吧。”

    “你这是什么意思？”哈利追问道。。他的心突然跳得很快，他隐约感到似乎有什么东西正在朝他一步步逼近。“嗯，”西莫又说道，仍然躲避着哈利的目光，“她？？嗯？？唉，也不光是因为你，还有邓布利多？？”“她相信了《预言家日报》？”哈利问，“她认为我是个骗子，邓布利多是个老糊涂？”

    西莫抬头望着他。

    “是啊，大概就是这个意思吧。”

    哈利什么也没说。他把魔杖扔在床边的桌子上，脱下长袍，气呼呼地塞进箱子里，然后换上了睡衣。他感到厌倦，做一个总是被人盯着看、被人评头论足的人，实在让他感到厌倦。他们有谁明白，他们有谁哪怕只是明白那么一点点，这么多事情发生在一个人头上会是什么滋味？？斐尼甘夫人不知道，这个愚蠢的女人，哈利恶狠狠地想。

    他爬到床上，正要把幔帐拉上遮住自己，可是没等他这么做，西莫说话了：“哎？？那天晚上？？到底是怎么回事？？你知道，就是？？塞德里克迪戈里和所有的事情？”

    西莫的声音既紧张又充满好奇。迪安正弯腰从箱子里取一双拖鞋，听了这话，突然奇怪地僵住了，哈利知道他也在侧耳细听。“你为什么还要问我？”哈利反驳道，“就像你妈妈那样读读《预言家日报》好了，为什么不呢？你需要知道的东西它都会告诉你的。”

    “不许你对我妈妈说三道四。”西莫气愤地说。

    “谁管我叫骗子，我就要对谁说三道四。”哈利说。

    “不许你跟我这样说话！”

    “我爱怎么说话就怎么说话。”哈利说，他的火气蹭蹭地往上蹿，一把抓起床边桌子上的魔杖，“如果你觉得没法跟我住一个宿舍，就去问问麦格教授能不能让你搬出去？？别再念叨你妈妈怎么担心——　”

    -152　？“不许你再提我妈妈，波特！”“出什么事了？”罗恩出现在门口。他睁大眼睛望望跪在床上用魔杖指着西莫的哈利，又望望站在地上抡起两只拳头的西莫。“他对我妈妈说三道四！”西莫大喊……“什么？”罗恩说，“哈利不会那样做的——　我们见过你妈妈，都很喜欢她？？”“那是在她开始相信臭烘烘的《预言家日报》编派我的每一句话之前！”哈利直着嗓子吼道。

    “噢，”罗恩说，布满雀斑的脸上显出恍然大悟的神情，“噢？？是这样。”

    “听我说，”西莫恶狠狠地自了哈利一眼，气极地说，“他说得对，我不想再跟他住在同一个宿舍了，他疯了。”

    “那是违反纪律的，西莫。”罗恩说，他的耳朵开始红得发亮——　一般来说，这是一个危险的信号。

    “违反纪律，我？”西莫喊道，他和罗恩正好相反，脸色越来越白，“你相信他编造的关于神秘人的那些胡言乱语，你认为他说的是实话？”

    “是的，没错！”罗恩气愤地说。

    “那你也疯了。”西莫厌恶地说。

    “是吗？可是对你来说很不幸啊，哥们儿，我同时还是个级长！”罗恩用一根手指戳着自己的胸脯说，“所以，除非你想关禁闭，不然说话还是放规矩点！”

    有那么几秒钟，西莫似乎觉得只要能把脑子里的想法一股脑儿吐出来，即使关禁闭也是值得的，可接着他轻蔑地哼了一声，原地一个转身，用手支撑着跳到床上，非常粗暴地拉上幔帐，结果用劲太大，把幔帐从床上扯了下来，落在地板上，灰扑扑的一大堆。罗恩严厉地瞪着西莫，然后转眼看着迪安和纳威。

    “还有谁的父母对哈利有意见？”他咄咄逼人地问。

    “我父母都是麻瓜，哥们儿，”迪安耸耸肩膀说，“他们根本不知道霍格沃茨有人死了，因为我才不会犯傻去告诉他们呢。”

    “你不了解我妈妈，不管是谁都别想有什么事瞒过她！”西莫冲他嚷道，“而且，你父母反正也看不到《预言家日报》。他们还不知道我们的校长已经被威森加摩和国际魔法师联合会开除了，因为他正在丧失理智——　”

    “我奶奶说那都是胡扯。”纳威尖声说起话来，“她说走下坡路的是《预言家日报》，不是邓布利多。她已经停止订这本杂志了。我们相信哈利。”纳威简单明确地说。他爬到床上，把被子一直拉到下巴上，两只眼睛严肃地望着西莫。“我奶奶总是说神秘人总有一天会回来的。她说如果邓布利多说他回来了，那他肯定就是回来了。”

    哈利心头涌起一股对纳威的感激之情。房间里谁也没有再说什么。西莫拿出他的魔杖，把床上的幔帐重新修好，钻到它们后面去了。迪安也上了床，翻了个身，再也不说话了。纳威似乎也没有话要说了，非常慈爱地望着他那棵月光映照下的米布米宝。

哈利背靠枕头躺着，罗恩在旁边的床上窸窸萃萃地忙碌着收拾东西。与西莫的争吵使哈利感到心绪烦乱，他一直是非常喜欢西莫的呀。以后还有多少人会说他是骗子，说他精神失常呢？是不是邓布利多整个暑假都在忍受这些？先被成森加摩开除，然后又被国际魔法师联合会扫地出门？是不是邓布利多生哈利的气了，才好几个月一直没有跟他联系？不管怎么说，他们俩现在是拴在一起了。邓布利多相信了哈利，把他叙述的事情经过告诉了全校师生，然后又向范围更广的巫师界公布了。凡是认为哈利是在说谎的人，都会认为邓布利多也是个骗子，或者认为邓布利多受了蒙蔽？？他们最后总会知道我们是对的，哈利愁闷地想，这时罗恩上了床，吹灭了宿舍里的最后一根蜡烛。可是哈利接着又想，在那个时候到来之前，他还要忍受多少像西莫这样的责难呢。

Professor Umbridge

Seamus dressed at top speed next morning and left the dormitory before Harry had even put on his socks.

‘Does he think he'll turn into a nutter if he stays in a room with me too long?’ asked Harry loudly as the hem of Seamus's robes wnipped out of sight.

‘Don't worry about it, Harry,’ Dean muttered, hoisting his schoolbag on to his shoulder, ‘he's just ...’

But apparently he was unable to say exactly what Seamus was, and after a slightly awkward pause followed him out of the room.

Neville and Ron both gave Harry an it's-his-problem-not-yours look, but Harry was not much consoled. How much more of this would he have to take?

‘What's the matter?’ asked Hermione five minutes later, catching up with Harry and Ron halfway across the common room as they all headed towards breakfast. ‘You look absolutely—Oh for heavens sake.’

She was staring at the common-room noticeboard, where a large new sign had been put up.

GALLONS OF GALLEONS!

Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings?

Like to earn a little extra gold?

Contact Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor common room,

for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs.

(We regret that all work is undertaken at applicant's own risk.)

‘They are the limit,’ said Hermione grimly, taking down the sign, which Fred and George had pinned up ewer a poster giving the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend, which was to be in October. ‘We'll have to talk to them, Ron.’

Ron looked positively alarmed.

‘Why?’

‘Because we're prefects!’ said Hermione, as they climbed out through the portrait hole. ‘It's up to us to stop this kind of thing!’

Ron said nothing; Harry could tell from his glum expression that the prospect of stopping Fred and George doing exactly what they liked was not one he found inviting.

‘Anyway, what's up, Harry?’ Hermione continued, as they walked down a flight of stairs lined with portraits of old witches and wizards, all of whom ignored them, being engrossed in their own conversation. ‘You look really angry about something.’

‘Seamus reckons Harry's lying about You-Know-Who,’ said Ron succinctly, when Harry did not respond.

Hermione, who Harry had expected to react angrily on his behalf, sighed.

‘Yes, Lavender thinks so too,’ she said gloomily.

‘Been having a nice little chat with her about whether or not I'm a lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?’ Harry said loudly.

‘No,’ said Hermione calmly. ‘I told her to keep her big fat mouth shut about you, actually. And it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down our throats, Harry, because in case you haven't noticed, Ron and I are on your side.’

There was a short pause.

‘Sorry,’ said Harry in a low voice.

‘That's quite all right,’ said Hermione with dignity. Then she shook her head. ‘Don't you remember what Dumbledore said at the last end-of-term feast?’

Harry and Ron both looked at her blankly and Hermione sighed again.

‘About You-Know-Who. He said his “gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust—” ’

‘How do you remember stuff like that?’ asked Ron, looking at her in admiration.

‘I listen, Ron,’ said Hermione, with a touch of asperity.

‘So do I, but I still couldn't tell you exactly what—’

‘The point,’ Hermione pressed on loudly, ‘is that this sort of thing is exactly what Dumbledore was talking about. You-Know-Who's only been back two months and we've already started fighting among ourselves. And the Sorting Hat's warning was the same: stand together, be united—’

‘And Harry got it right last night,’ retorted Ron. ‘If that means we're supposed to get matey with the Slytherins—fat chance.’

‘Well, I think it's a pity we're not trying for a bit of inter-house unity,’ said Hermione crossly.

They had reached the foot of the marble staircase. A line of fourth-year Ravenclaws was crossing the Entrance Hall; they caught sight of Harry and hurried to form a tighter group, as though frightened he might attack stragglers.

‘Yeah, we really ought to be trying to make friends with people like that,’ said Harry sarcastically.

They followed the Ravenclaws into the Great Hall, all looking instinctively at the staff table as they entered. Professor Grubbly-Plank was chatting to Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, and Hagrid was once again conspicuous only by his absence. The enchanted ceiling above them echoed Harry's mood; it was a miserable rain-cloud grey.

‘Dumbledore didn't even mention how long that Grubbly-Plank woman's staying,’ he said, as they made their way across to the Gryffindor table.

‘Maybe ...’ said Hermione thoughtfully.

‘What?’ said both Harry and Ron together.

‘Well ... maybe he didn't want to draw attention to Hagrid not being here.’

‘What d'you mean, draw attention to it?’ said Ron, half-laughing. ‘How could we not notice?’

Before Hermione could answer, a tall black girl with long braided hair had marched up to Harry.

‘Hi, Angelina.’

‘Hi,’ she said briskly, ‘good summer?’ And without waiting for an answer, ‘Listen, I've been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain.’

‘Nice one,’ said Harry, grinning at her; he suspected Angelina's pep talks might not be as long-winded as Oliver Wood's had been, which could only be an improvement.

‘Yeah, well, we need a new Keeper now Oliver's left. Tryouts are on Friday at five o'clock and I want the whole team there, all right? Then we can see how the new person'll fit in.’

‘OK,’ said Harry.

Angelina smiled at him and departed.

‘I'd forgotten Wood had left,’ said Hermione vaguely as she sat down beside Ron and pulled a plate of toast towards her. ‘I suppose that will make quite a difference to the team?’

‘I s'pose,’ said Harry, taking the bench opposite. ‘He was a good Keeper ...’

‘Still, it won't hurt to have some new blood, will it?’ said Ron.

With a whoosh and a clatter, hundreds of owls came soaring in through the upper windows. They descended all over the Hall, bringing letters and packages to their owners and showering the breakfasters with droplets of water; it was clearly raining hard outside. Hedwig was nowhere to be seen, but Harry was hardly surprised; his only correspondent was Sirius, and he doubted Sirius would have anything new to tell him after only twenty-four hours apart. Hermione, however, had to move her orange juice aside quickly to make way gor a large damp barn owl bearing a sodden Daily Prophet in its beak.

‘What are you still getting that for?’ said Harry irritably, thinking of Seamus as Hermione placed a Knut in the leather pouch on the owl's leg and it took off again. ‘I'm not bothering ... load of rubbish.’

‘It's best to know what the enemy is saying,’ said Hermione darkly, and she unfurled the newspaper and disappeared behind it, not emerging until Harry and Ron had finished eating.

‘Nothing,’ she said simply, rolling up the newspaper and laying it down by her plate. ‘Nothing about you or Dumbledore or anything.’

Professor McGonagall was now moving along the table handing out timetables.

‘Look at today!’ groaned Ron. ‘History of Magic, double Potions, Divination and double Defence Against the Dark Arts ... Binns, Snape, Trelawney and that Umbridge woman all in one day! I wish Fred and George'd hurry up and get those Skiving Snackboxes sorted ...’

‘Do mine ears deceive me?’ said Fred, arriving with George and squeezing on to the bench beside Harry. ‘Hogwarts prefects surely don't wish to skive off lessons?’

‘Look what we've got today,’ said Ron grumpily, shoving his timetable under Fred's nose. ‘That's the worst Monday I've ever seen.’

‘Fair point, little bro,’ said Fred, scanning the column. ‘You can have a bit of Nosebleed Nougat cheap if you like.’

‘Why's it cheap?’ said Ron suspiciously.

‘Because you'll keep bleeding till you shrivel up, we haven't got an antidote yet,’ said George, helping himself to a kipper.

‘Cheers,’ said Ron moodily, pocketing his timetable, ‘but I think I'll take the lessons.’

‘And speaking of your Skiving Snackboxes,’ said Hermione, eyeing Fred and George beadily, ‘you can't advertise for testers on the Gryffindor noticeboard.’

‘Says who?’ said George, looking astonished.

‘Says me,’ said Hermione. ‘And Ron.’

‘Leave me out of it,’ said Ron hastily.

Hermione glared at him. Fred and George sniggered.

‘You'll be singing a different tune soon enough, Hermione,’ said Fred, thickly buttering a crumpet. ‘You're starting your fifth year, you'll be begging us for a Snackbox before long.’

‘And why would starting fifth year mean I want a Skiving Snackbox?’ asked Hermione.

‘Fifth year's OWL year,’ said George.

‘So?’

‘So you've got your exams coming up, haven't you? They'll be keeping your noses so hard to that grindstone they'll be rubbed raw,’ said Fred with satisfaction.

‘Half our year had minor breakdowns coming up to OWLs,’ said George happily. ‘Tears and tantrums ... Patricia Stimpson kept coming over faint ...’

‘Kenneth Towler came out in boils, d'you remember?’ said Fred remmiscently.

‘That's ‘cause you put Bulbadox powder in his pyjamas,’ said George.

‘Oh yeah,’ said Fred, grinning. ‘I'd forgotten ... hard to keep track sometimes, isn't it?’

‘Anyway, it's a nightmare of a year, the fifth,’ said George. ‘If you care about exam results, anyway. Fred and I managed to keep our peckers up somehow.’

‘Yeah ... you got, what was it, three OWLs each?’ said Ron.

‘Yep,’ said Fred unconcernedly. ‘But we feel our futures lie outside the world of academic achievement.’

‘We seriously debated whether we were going to bother coming back for our seventh year,’ said George brightly, ‘now that we've got—’

He broke off at a warning look from Harry, who knew George had been about to mention the Triwizard winnings he had given them.

‘—now that we've got our OWLs,’ George said hastily. ‘I mean, do we really need NEWTs? But we didn't think Mum could take us leaving school early not on top of Percy turning out to be the world's biggest prat.’

‘We're not going to waste our last year here, though,’ said Fred, looking affectionately around at the Great Hall. ‘We're going to use it to do a bit of market research, find out exactly what the average Hogwarts student requires from a joke shop, carefully evaluate the results of our research, then produce products to fit the demand.’

‘But where are you going to get the gold to start a joke shop?’ Hermione asked sceptically. ‘You're going to need all the ingredients and materials—and premises too, I suppose ...’

Harry did not look at the twins. His face felt hot; he deliberately dropped his fork and dived down to retrieve it. He heard Fred say overhead, ‘Ask us no questions and we'll tell you no lies, Hermione. C'mon, George, if we get there early we might be able to sell a few Extendable Ears before Herbology.’

Harry emerged from under the table to see Fred and George walking away, each carrying a stack of toast.

‘What did that mean?’ said Hermione, looking from Harry to Ron. ‘"Ask us no questions ...” Does that mean they've already got some gold to start a joke shop?’

‘You know, I've been wondering about that,’ said Ron, his brow furrowed. ‘They bought me a new set of dress robes this summer and I couldn't understand where they got the Galleons ...’

Harry decided it was time to steer the conversation out of these dangerous waters.

‘D'you reckon it's true this year's going to be really tough? Because of the exams?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Ron. ‘Bound to be, isn't it? OWLs are really important, affect the jobs you can apply for and everything. We get career advice, too, later this year, Bill told me. So you can choose what NEWTs you want to do next year.’

‘D'you know what you want to do after Hogwarts?’ Harry asked the other two, as they left the Great Hall shortly afterwards and set off towards their History of Magic classroom.

‘Not really,’ said Ron slowly. ‘Except ... well ...’

He looked slightly sheepish.

‘What?’ Harry urged him.

‘Well, it'd be cool to be an Auror,’ said Ron in an off-hand voice.

‘Yeah, it would,’ said Harry fervently.

‘But they're, like, the elite,’ said Ron. ‘You've got to be really good. What about you, Hermione?’

‘I don't know,’ she said. ‘I think I'd like to do something really worthwhile.’

‘An Auror's worthwhile!’ said Harry.

‘Yes, it is, but it's not the only worthwhile thing,’ said Hermione thoughtfully, ‘I mean, if I could take SPEW further ...’

Harry and Ron carefully avoided looking at each other.

History of Magic was by common consent the most boring subject ever devised by wizardkind. Professor Binns, their ghost teacher, had a wheezy, droning voice that was almost guaranteed to cause severe drowsiness within ten minutes, five in warm weather. He never varied the form of their lessons, but lectured them without pausing while they took notes, or rather, gazed sleepily into space. Harry and Ron had so far managed to scrape passes in this subject only by copying Hermione's notes before exams; she alone seemed able to resist the soporific power of Binns's voice.

Today, they suffered an hour and a half's droning on the subject of giant wars. Harry heard just enough within the first ten minutes to appreciate dimly that in another teacher's hands this subject might have been mildly interesting, but then his brain disengaged, and he spent the remaining hour and twenty minutes playing hangman on a corner of his parchment with Ron, while Hermione shot them filthy looks out of the corner of her eye.

‘How would it be,’ she asked them coldly, as they left the classroom for break (Binns drifting away through the blackboard), ‘if I refused to lend you my notes this year?’

‘We'd fail our OWL, said Ron. ‘If you want that on your conscience, Hermione ...’

‘Well, you'd deserve it,’ she snapped. ‘You don't even try to listen to him, do you?’

‘We do try,’ said Ron. ‘We just haven't got your brains or your memory or your concentration— you're just cleverer than we are—is it nice to rub it in?’

‘Oh, don't give me that rubbish,’ said Hermione, but she looked slightly mollified as she led the way out into the damp courtyard.

A fine misty drizzle was falling, so that the people standing in huddles around the edges of the yard looked blurred at the edges. Harry, Ron and Hermione chose a secluded corner under a heavily dripping balcony, turning up the collars of their robes against the chilly September air and talking about what Snape was likely to set them in the first lesson of the year. They had got as far as agreeing that it was likely to be something extremely difficult, just to catch them off guard after a two-month holiday, when someone walked around the corner towards them.

‘Hello, Harry!’

It was Cho Chang and, what was more, she was on her own again. This was most unusual: Cho was almost always surrounded by a gang of giggling girls; Harry remembered the agony of trying to get her by herself to ask her to the Yule Ball.

‘Hi,’ said Harry, feeling his face grow hot. At least you're not covered in Stinksap this time, he told himself. Cho seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

‘You got that stuff off, then?’

‘Yeah,’ said Harry, trying to grin as though the memory of their last meeting was funny as opposed to mortifying. ‘So, did you ... er ... have a good summer?’

The moment he had said this he wished he hadn't—Cedric had been Cho's boyfriend and the memory of his death must have affected her holiday almost as badly as it had affected Harry's. Something seemed to tauten in her face, but she said, ‘Oh, it was all right, you know ...’

‘Is that a Tornados badge?’ Ron demanded suddenly, pointing to the front of Cho's robes, where a sky-blue badge emblazoned with a double gold ‘T’ was pinned. ‘You don't support them, do you?’

‘Yeah, I do,’ said Cho.

‘Have you always supported them, or just since they started winning the league?’ said Ron, in what Harry considered an unnecessarily accusatory tone of voice.

‘I've supported them since I was six,’ said Cho coolly. ‘Anyway ... see you, Harry.’

She walked away. Hermione waited until Cho was halfway across the courtyard before rounding on Ron.

‘You are so tactless!’

‘What? I only asked her if—’

‘Couldn't you tell she wanted to talk to Harry on her own?’

‘So? She could've done, I wasn't stopping—’

‘Why on earth were you attacking her about her Quidditch team?’

‘Attacking? I wasn't attacking her, I was only—’

‘Who cares if she supports the Tornados?’

‘Oh, come on, half the people you see wearing those badges only bought them last season—’

‘But what does it matter?’

‘It means they're not real fans, they're just jumping on the bandwagon—’

‘That's the bell,’ said Harry dully, because Ron and Hermione were bickering too loudly to hear it. They did not stop arguing all the way down to Snapes dungeon, which gave Harry plenty of time to reflect that between Neville and Ron he would be lucky ever to have two minutes of conversation with Cho that he could look back on without wanting to leave the country.

And yet, he thought, as they joined the queue lining up outside Snape's classroom door, she had chosen to come and talk to him, hadn't she? She had been Cedric's girlfriend; she could easily have hated Harry for coming out of the Triwizard maze alive when Cedric had died, yet she was talking to him in a perfectly friendly way, not as though she thought him mad, or a liar, or in some horrible way responsible for Cedric's death ... yes, she had definitely chosen to come and talk to him, and that made the second time in two days ... and at this thought, Harry's spirits rose. Even the ominous sound of Snape's dungeon door creaking open did not puncture the small, hopeful bubble that seemed to have swelled in his chest. He filed into the classroom behind Ron and Hermione and followed them to their usual table at the back, where he sat down between Ron and Hermione and ignored the huffy, irritable noises now issuing from both of them.

‘Settle down,’ said Snape coldly, shutting the door behind him.

There was no real need for the call to order; the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. Snape's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class's silence.

‘Before we begin today's lesson,’ said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, ‘I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an “Acceptable” in your OWL, or suffer my ... displeasure.’

His gaze lingered this time on Neville, who gulped.

‘After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me,’ Snape went on. ‘I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye.’

His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled. Harry glared back, feeling a grim pleasure at the idea that he would be able to give up Potions after fifth year.

‘But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell,’ said Snape softly, ‘so, whether or not you are intending to attempt NEWT, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students.

‘Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing.’ On Harry's left, Hermione sat up a little straighter, her expression one of utmost attention. The ingredients and method—’ Snape flicked his wand ‘—are on the blackboard—(they appeared there) ‘—you will find everything you need—’ he flicked his wand again ‘—in the store cupboard—’ (the door of the said cupboard sprang open) ‘—you have an hour and a half ... start.’

Just as Harry, Ron and Hermione had predicted, Snape could hardly have set them a more difficult, fiddly potion. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in anti-clockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added.

‘A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion,’ called Snape, with ten minutes left to go.

Harry, who was sweating profusely, looked desperately around the dungeon. His own cauldron was issuing copious amounts of dark grey steam; Ron's was spitting green sparks. Seamus was feverishly prodding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they seemed to be going out. The surface of Hermione's potion, however, was a shimmering mist of silver vapour, and as Snape swept by he looked down his hooked nose at it without comment, which meant he could find nothing to criticise.

At Harry's cauldron, however, Snape stopped, and looked down at it with a horrible smirk on his face.

‘Potter, what is this supposed to be?’

The Slytherins at the front of the class all looked up eagerly; they loved hearing Snape taunt Harry.

‘The Draught of Peace,’ said Harry tensely.

‘Tell me, Potter,’ said Snape softly, ‘can you read?’

Draco Malfoy laughed.

‘Yes, I can,’ said Harry, his fingers clenched tightly around his wand.

‘Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter.’

Harry squinted at the blackboard; it was not easy to make out the instructions through the haze of multi-coloured steam now filling the dungeon.

‘"Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counter-clockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes then add two drops of syrup of hellebore.” ’

His heart sank. He had not added syrup of hellebore, but had proceeded straight to the fourth line of the instructions after allowing his potion to simmer for seven minutes.

‘Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?’

‘No,’ said Harry very quietly.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘No,’ said Harry, more loudly. ‘I forgot the hellebore.’

‘I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesce.’

The contents of Harry's potion vanished; he was left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron.

‘Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name and bring it up to my desk for testing,’ said Snape. ‘Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday.’

While everyone around him filled their flagons, Harry cleared away his things, seething. His potion had been no worse than Ron's, which was now giving off a foul odour of bad eggs; or Neville's, which had achieved the consistency of just-mixed cement and which Neville was now having to gouge out of his cauldron; yet it was he, Harry, who would be receiving zero marks for the day's work. He stuffed his wand back into his bag and slumped down on to his seat, watching everyone else march up to Snape's desk with filled and corked flagons. When at long last the bell rang, Harry was first out of the dungeon and had already started his lunch by the time Ron and Hermione joined him in the Great Hall. The ceiling had turned an even murkier grey during the morning. Rain was lashing the high windows.

‘That was really unfair,’ said Hermione consolingly, sitting down next to Harry and helping herself to shepherd's pie. ‘Your potion wasn't nearly as bad as Goyle's; when he put it in his flagon the whole thing shattered and set his robes on fire.’

‘Yeah, well,’ said Harry, glowering at his plate, ‘since when has Snape ever been fair to me?’

Neither of the others answered; all three of them knew that Snape and Harry's mutual enmity had been absolute from the moment Harry had set foot in Hogwarts.

‘I did think he might be a bit better this year,’ said Hermione in a disappointed voice. ‘I mean ... you know ...’ she looked around carefully; there were half a dozen empty seats on either side of them and nobody was passing the table ’ ... now he's in the Order and everything.’

‘Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots,’ said Ron sagely. ‘Anyway, I've always thought Dumbledore was cracked to trust Snape. Where's the evidence he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?’

‘I think Dumbledore's probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn't share it with you, Ron,’ snapped Hermione.

‘Oh, shut up, the pair of you,’ said Harry heavily, as Ron opened his mouth to argue back. Hermione and Ron both froze, looking angry and offended. ‘Can't you give it a rest?’ said Harry. ‘You're always having a go at each other, it's driving me mad.’ And abandoning his shepherd's pie, he swung his schoolbag back over his shoulder and left them sitting there.

He walked up the marble staircase two steps at a time, past the many students hurrying towards lunch. The anger that had just flared so unexpectedly still blazed inside him, and the vision of Ron and Hermione's shocked faces afforded him a sense of deep satisfaction. Serve them right, he thought, why can't they give it a rest ... bickering all the time ... it's enough to drive anyone up the wall ...

He passed the large picture of Sir Cadogan the knight on a landing; Sir Cadogan drew his sword and brandished it fiercely at Harry, who ignored him.

‘Come back, you scurvy dog! Stand fast and fight!’ yelled Sir Cadogan in a muffled voice from behind his visor, but Harry merely walked on and when Sir Cadogan attempted to follow him by running into a neighbouring picture, he was rebuffed by its inhabitant, a large and angry-looking wolfhound.

Harry spent the rest of the lunch hour sitting alone underneath the trapdoor at the top of North Tower. Consequently, he was the first to ascend the silver ladder that led to Sybill Trelawney's classroom when the bell rang.

After Potions, Divination was Harry's least favourite class, which was due mainly to Professor Trelawney's habit of predicting his premature death every few lessons. A thin woman, heavily draped in shawls and glittering with strings of beads, she always reminded Harry of some kind of insect, with her glasses hugely magnifying her eyes. She was busy putting copies of battered leather-bound books on each of the spindly little tables with which her room was littered when Harry entered the room, but the light cast by the lamps covered by scarves and the low-burning, sickly-scented fire was so dim she appeared not to notice him as he took a seat in the shadows. The rest of the class arrived over the next five minutes. Ron emerged from the trapdoor, looked around carefully, spotted Harry and made directly for him, or as directly as he could while having to wend his way between tables, chairs and overstuffed pouffes.

‘Hermione and me have stopped arguing,’ he said, sitting down beside Harry.

‘Good,’ grunted Harry.

‘But Hermione says she thinks it would be nice if you stopped taking out your temper on us,’ said Ron.

‘I ‘m not—’

‘I'm just passing on the message,’ said Ron, talking over him. ‘But I reckon she's right. It's not our fault how Seamus and Snape treat you.’

‘I never said it —’

‘Good-day,’ said Professor Trelawney in her usual misty, dreamy voice, and Harry broke off, again feeling both annoyed and slightly ashamed of himself. ‘And welcome back to Divination. I have, of course, been following your fortunes most carefully over the holidays, and am delighted to see that you have all returned to Hogwarts safely—as, of course, I knew you would.

‘You will find on the tables before you copies of The Dream Oracle, by Inigo Imago. Dream interpretation is a most important means of divining the future and one that may very probably be tested in your OWL. Not, of course, that I believe examination passes or failures are of the remotest importance when it comes to the sacred art of divination. If you have the Seeing Eye, certificates and grades matter very little. However, the Headmaster likes you to sit the examination, so ...’

Her voice trailed away delicately, leaving them all in no doubt that Professor Trelawney considered her subject above such sordid matters as examinations.

‘Turn, please, to the introduction and read what Imago has to say on the matter of dream interpretation. Then, divide into pairs. Use The Dream Oracle to interpret each other's most recent dreams. Carry on.’

The one good thing to be said for this lesson was that it was not a double period. By the time they had all finished reading the introduction of the book, they had barely ten minutes left for dream interpretation. At the table next to Harry and Ron, Dean had paired up with Neville, who immediately embarked on a long-winded explanation of a nightmare involving a pair of giant scissors wearing his grandmother's best hat; Harry and Ron merely looked at each other glumly.

‘I never remember my dreams,’ said Ron, ‘you say one.’

‘You must remember one of them,’ said Harry impatiently.

He was not going to share his dreams with anyone. He knew perfectly well what his regular nightmare about a graveyard meant, he did not need Ron or Proiessor Trelawney or the stupid Dream Oracle to tell him.

‘Well, I dreamed I was playing Quidditch the other night,’ said Ron, screwing up his face in an effort to remember. ‘What d'you reckon that means?’

‘Probably that you're going to be eaten by a giant marshmallow or something,’ said Harry, turning the pages of The Dream Oracle without interest. It was very dull work looking up bits of dreams in the Oracle and Harry was not cheered up when Professor Trelawney set them the task of keeping a dream diary for a month as homework. When the bell went, he and Ron led the way back down the ladder, Ron grumbling loudly.

‘D'you realise how much homework we've got already? Binns set us a foot-and-a-half-long essay on giant wars, Snape wants a foot on the use of moonstones, and now we've got a month's dream diary from Trelawney! Fred and George weren't wrong about OWL year, were they? That Umbridge woman had better not give us any ...’

When they entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom they found Professor Umbridge already seated at the teachers desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan of the night before and the black velvet bow on top of her head. Harry was again reminded forcibly of a large fly perched unwisely on top of an even larger toad.

The class was quiet as it entered the room; Professor Umbridge was, as yet, an unknown quantity and nobody knew how strict a disciplinarian she was likely to be.

‘Well, good afternoon!’ she said, when finally the whole class had sat down.

A few people mumbled ‘good afternoon’ in reply.

‘Tut, tut,’ said Professor Umbridge. ‘That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply “Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge". One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!’

‘Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,’ they chanted back at her.

‘There, now,’ said Professor Umbridge sweetly. That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please.’

Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the order ‘wands away’ had never yet been followed by a lesson they had found interesting. Harry shoved his wand back inside his bag and pulled cut quill, ink and parchment. Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:

Defence Against the Dark Arts

A Return to Basic Principles

‘Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?’ stated Professor Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your OWL year.

‘You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please.’

She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by:

Course Aims:
1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.

2. Learning to recognise situations in which defensive magic can legally be used

3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. When everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge's three course aims she asked, ‘Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?’

There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class.

‘I think we'll try that again,’ said Professor Umbridge. ‘When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply, “Yes, Professor Umbridge", or “No, Professor Umbridge". So: has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?’

‘Yes, Professor Umbridge,’ rang through the room.

‘Good,’ said Professor Umbridge. ‘I should like you to turn to page five and read “Chapter One, Basics for Beginners". There will be no need to talk.’

Professor Umbridge left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher's desk, observing them all closely with those pouchy toad's eyes. Harry turned to page five of his copy of Defensive Magical Theory and started to read.

It was desperately dull, quite as bad as listening to Professor Binns. He felt his concentration sliding away from him; he had soon read the same line half a dozen times without taking in more than the first few words. Several silent minutes passed. Next to him, Ron was absent-mindedly turning his quill over and over in his fingers, staring at the same spot on the page. Harry looked right and received a surprise to shake him out of his torpor. Hermione had not even opened her copy of Defensive Magical Theory.She was staring fixedly at Professor Umbridge with her hand in the air.

Harry could not remember Hermione ever neglecting to read when instructed to, or indeed resisting the temptation to open any book that came under her nose. He looked at her enquiringly, but she merely shook her head slightly to indicate that she was not about to answer questions, and continued to stare at Professor Umbridge, who was looking just as resolutely in another direction.

After several more minutes had passed, however, Harry was not the only one watching Hermione. The chapter they had been instructed to read was so tedious that more and more people were choosing to watch Hermione's mute attempt to catch Professor Umbridge's eye rather than struggle on with ‘Basics for Beginners'.

When more than half the class were staring at Hermione rather than at their books, Professor Umbridge seemed to decide that she could ignore the situation no longer.

‘Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?’ she asked Hermione, as though she had only just noticed her.

‘Not about the chapter, no,’ said Hermione.

‘Well, we're reading just now,’ said Professor Umbridge, showing her small pointed teeth. ‘If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class.’

‘I've got a query about your course aims,’ said Hermione.

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows.

‘And your name is?’

‘Hermione Granger,’ said Hermione.

‘Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully,’ said Professor Umbridge in a voice of determined sweetness.

‘Well, I don't,’ said Hermione bluntly. ‘There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells.’

There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard.

‘Using defensive spells?’ Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. ‘Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?’

‘We're not going to use magic?’ Ron exclaimed loudly.

‘Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr.—?’

‘Weasley,’ said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air.

Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him. Harry and Hermione immediately raised their hands too. Professor Umbridge's pouchy eyes lingered on Harry for a moment before she addressed Hermione.

‘Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?’

‘Yes,’ said Hermione. ‘Surely the whole point of Defence Against the Dark Arts is to practise defensive spells?’

‘Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?’ asked Professor Umbridge, in her falsely sweet voice.

‘No, but—’

‘Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the “whole point” of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new programme of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way—’

‘What use is that?’ said Harry loudly. ‘If we're going to be attacked, it won't be in a—’

‘Hand,Mr Potter!’ sang Professor Umbridge.

Harry thrust his fist in the air. Again, Professor Umbridge promptly turned away from him, but now several other people had their hands up, too.

‘And your name is?’ Professor Umbridge said to Dean.

‘Dean Thomas.’

‘Well, Mr Thomas?’

‘Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?’ said Dean. ‘If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk free.’

‘I repeat,’ said Professor Umbridge, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dean, ‘do you expect to be attacked during my classes?’

‘No, but—’

Professor Umbridge talked over him. ‘I do not wish to criticise the way things have been run in this school,’ she said, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth, ‘but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed—not to mention,’ she gave a nasty little laugh, ‘extremely dangerous half-breeds.’

‘If you mean Professor Lupin,’ piped up Dean angrily, ‘he was the best we ever—

‘Hand,Mr Thomas! As I was saying—you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day—’

‘No we haven't,’ Hermione said, ‘we just—’

‘Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!’

Hermione put up her hand. Professor Umbridge turned away from her.

‘It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you.’

‘Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?’ said Dean hotly. ‘Mind you, we still learned loads.’

‘Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!’ trilled Professor Umbridge. ‘Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?’ she added, staring at Parvati, whose hand had just shot up.

‘Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter-curses and things?’

‘As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions,’ said Professor Umbridge dismissively.

‘Without ever practising them beforehand?’ said Parvati incredulously. ‘Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?’

‘I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough—’

‘And what good's theory going to be in the real world?’ said Harry loudly, his fist in the air again.

Professor Umbridge looked up.

‘This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world,’ she said softly.

‘So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting for us out there?’

‘There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ said Harry. His temper, which seemed to have been bubbling just beneath the surface all day, was reaching boiling point.

‘Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?’ enquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice.

‘Hmm, let's think ...’ said Harry in a mock thoughtful voice. ‘Maybe ... Lord Voldemort?’

Ron gasped; Lavender Brown uttered a little scream; Neville slipped sideways off his stool. Professor Umbridge, however, did not flinch. She was staring at Harry with a grimly satisfied expression on her face.

‘Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter.’

The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staring at either Umbridge or Harry.

‘Now, let me make a few things quite plain.’

Professor Umbridge stood up and leaned towards them, her stubby-fingered hands splayed on her desk.

‘You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead—’

‘He wasn't dead,’ said Harry angrily, ‘but yeah, he's returned!’

‘Mr-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-house-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself,’ said Professor Umbridge in one breath without looking at him. ‘As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie.’

‘It is NOT a lie!’ said Harry. ‘I saw him, I fought him!’

‘Detention, Mr Potter!’ said Professor Umbridge triumphantly. ‘Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office. I repeat, this is a lie.The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, “Basics for Beginners".’

Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk. Harry, however, stood up. Everyone was staring at him; Seamus looked half-scared, half-fascinated.

‘Harry, no!’ Hermione whispered in a warning voice, tugging at his sleeve, but Harry jerked his arm out of her reach.

‘So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?’ Harry asked, his voice shaking.

There was a collective intake of breath from the class, for none of them, apart from Ron and Hermione, had ever heard Harry talk about what had happened on the night Cedric had died. They stared avidly from Harry to Professor Umbridge, who had raised her eyes and was staring at him without a trace of a fake smile on her face.

‘Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident,’ she said coldly.

‘It was murder,’ said Harry. He could feel himself shaking. He had hardly spoken to anyone about this, least of all thirty eagerly listening classmates. ‘Voldemort killed him and you know it.’

Professor Umbridge's face was quite blank. For a moment, Harry thought she was going to scream at him. Then she said, in her softest, most sweetly girlish voice, ‘Come here, Mr. Potter, dear.’

He kicked his chair aside, strode around Ron and Hermione and up to the teacher's desk. He could feel the rest of the class holding its breath. He felt so angry he did not care what happened next.

Professor Umbridge pulled a small roll of pink parchment out of her handbag, stretched it out on the desk, dipped her quill into a bottle of ink and started scribbling, hunched over so that Harry could not see what she was writing. Nobody spoke. After a minute or so she rolled up the parchment and tapped it with her wand; it sealed itself seamlessly so that he could not open it.

‘Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear,’ said Professor Umbridge, holding out the note to him.

He took it from her without saying a word, turned on his heel and left the room, not even looking back at Ron and Hermione, slamming the classroom door shut behind him. He walked very fast along the corridor, the note to McGonagall clutched tight in his hand, and turning a corner walked slap into Peeves the poltergeist, a wide-mouthed little man floating on his back in midair, juggling several inkwells.

‘Why, it's Potty Wee Potter!’ cackled Peeves, allowing two of the inkwells to fall to the ground where they smashed and spattered the walls with ink; Harry jumped backwards out of the way with a snarl.

‘Get out of it, Peeves.’

‘Oooh, Crackpot's feeling cranky,’ said Peeves, pursuing Harry along the corridor, leering as he zoomed along above him. ‘What is it this time, my fine Potty friend? Hearing voices? Seeing visions? Speaking in—’ Peeves blew a gigantic raspberry ‘— tongues?’

‘I said, leave me ALONE!’ Harry shouted, running down the nearest flight of stairs, but Peeves merely slid down the banister on his back beside him.

‘Oh, most think he's barking, the potty wee lad,

But some are more kindly and think he's just sad,

But Peevesy knows better and says that he's mad—’



‘SHUT UP!’

A door to his left flew open and Professor McGonagall emerged from her office looking grim and slightly harassed.

‘What on earth are you shouting about, Potter?’ she snapped, as Peeves cackled gleefully and zoomed out of sight. ‘Why aren't you in class?’

‘I've been sent to see you,’ said Harry stiffly.

‘Sent? What do you mean, sent?’

He held out the note from Professor Umbridge. Professor McGonagall took it from him, frowning, slit it open with a tap of her wand, stretched it out and began to read. Her eyes zoomed from side to side behind their square spectacles as she read what Umbridge had written, and with each line they became narrower.

‘Come in here, Potter.’

He followed her inside her study. The door closed automatically behind him.

‘Well?’ said Professor McGonagall, rounding on him. ‘Is this true?’

‘Is what true?’ Harry asked, rather more aggressively than he had intended. ‘Professor?’ he added, in an attempt to sound more polite.

‘Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge?’

‘Yes,’ said Harry.

‘You called her a liar?’

‘Yes.’

‘You told her He Who Must Not Be Named is back?’

‘Yes.’

Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk, watching Harry closely. Then she said, ‘Have a biscuit, Potter.’

‘Have—what?’

‘Have a biscuit,’ she repeated impatiently, indicating a tartan tin lying on top of one of the piles of papers on her desk. ‘And sit down.’

There had been a previous occasion when Harry, expecting to be caned by Professor McGonagall, had instead been appointed by her to the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He sank into a chair opposite her and helped himself to a Ginger Newt, feeling just as confused and wrong-footed as he had done on that occasion.

Professor McGonagall set down Professor Umbridge's note and looked very seriously at Harry.

‘Potter, you need to be careful.’

Harry swallowed his mouthful of Ginger Newt and stared at her. Her tone of voice was not at all what he was used to; it was not brisk, crisp and stern; it was low and anxious and somehow much more human than usual.

‘Misbehaviour in Dolores Umbridge's class could cost you much more than house points and a detention.’

‘What do you—?’

‘Potter, use your common sense,’ snapped Professor McGonagall, with an abrupt return to her usual manner. ‘You know where she comes from, you must know to whom she is reporting.’

The bell rang for the end of the lesson. Overhead and all around came the elephantine sounds of hundreds of students on the move.

‘It says here she's given you detention every evening this week, starting tomorrow,’ Professor McGonagall said, looking down at Umbridge's note again.

‘Every evening this week!’ Harry repeated, horrified. ‘But, Professor, couldn't you—?’

‘No, I couldn't,’ said Professor McGonagall flatly.

‘But—’

‘She is your teacher and has every right to give you detention. You will go to her room at five o'clock tomorrow for the first one. Just remember: tread carefully around Dolores Umbridge.’

‘But I was telling the truth!’ said Harry, outraged. ‘Voldemort is back, you know he is; Professor Dumbledore knows he is—’

‘For heaven's sake, Potter!’ said Professor McGonagall, straightening her glasses angrily (she had winced horribly when he had used Voldemort's name). ‘Do you really think this is about truth or lies? It's about keeping your head down and your temper under control!’

She stood up, nostrils wide and mouth very thin, and Harry stood up, too.

‘Have another biscuit,’ she said irritably, thrusting the tin at him.

‘No, thanks,’ said Harry coldly.

‘Don't be ridiculous,’ she snapped.

He took one.

‘Thanks,’ he said grudgingly.

‘Didn't you listen to Dolores Umbridge's speech at the start-of-term feast, Potter?’

‘Yeah,’ said Harry. ‘Yeah ... she said ... progress will be prohibited or ... well, it meant that ... that the Ministry of Magic is trying to interfere at Hogwarts.’

Professor McGonagall eyed him closely for a moment, then sniffed, walked around her desk and held open the door for him.

‘Well, I'm glad you listen to Hermione Granger at any rate,’ she said, pointing him out of her office.

乌姆里奇教授

    第二天早晨，西莫飞快地穿好衣服，没等哈利穿上袜子就离开了宿舍。“难道他以为跟我在一个房间里待得太久，他就会变成疯子吗？”西莫的衣摆一闪消失后，哈利大声问道。“别把这事放在心上，哈利，”迪安低声嘟哝了一句，把书包背上肩头，“他只是？？”可是，他似乎说不出来话莫到底是怎么回事，尴尬地顿了一下，便也跟着出了房间。纳威和罗恩都用“这是他的问题，不怪你”的目光看着哈利，可是哈利并没有感到舒服多少。这样的情形，他还要忍受多久？“出什么事了？”五分钟后，哈利和罗恩赶去吃早饭，刚走到公共休息室，赫敏追了上来，“你的脸色真是太——　哦，我的天哪。”她吃惊地望着公共休息室的布告栏，上面新贴了一张大启事。

    大把大把的加隆l零花钱不够应付你的开销吗？想多挣一点儿金子吗？请与格兰芬多公共休息室的弗雷德和乔治韦斯莱联系，找一份简单的几乎毫无痛苦的课外临时工。

    （很抱歉，所有的工作都由求职者自己承担风险。）“他们太过分了。”赫敏板着脸说，一把将启事揭了下来，弗雷德和乔治原来是把启事钉在一张布告上的，布告上写着第一次到霍格莫德村过周末的日期是在十月份。“我们得跟他们谈谈了。罗恩。”

    罗恩显得十分惊慌。

    “为什么？”

    “因为我们是级长！”赫敏说，这时他们三个从削象洞口爬了出来，“得由我们来制止这样的事情！”

    罗恩什么也没有说。哈利从他闷闷不乐的表情可以看出，他觉得要阻止弗雷德和乔治做他们喜欢的事情可不是什么美差。

    “对了，出什么事了，哈利？”赫敏接着问道，这时他们走下一道楼梯，楼梯旁边挂着一排老巫师的肖像，一个个都忙着互相说话，顾不上理睬他们。“你好像为什么事情很生气。”

    “西莫认为哈利在神秘人的事情上说了谎话。”罗恩看到哈利没有回答，便简明扼要地说道。

    哈利以为赫敏会站在他一边做出愤怒的反应，可她只是叹了口气。

    “是啊，拉文德也是这样想的。”赫敏愁眉苦脸地说。

    “你一直在跟她愉快地聊天，讨论我到底是不是个谎话连篇、爱出风头的骗子，是吗？”哈利大声说。

    “不是，”赫敏心平气和地说，“实际上，我叫她闭上她那张大胖嘴，不许再对你说三道四。哈利，真希望你不要再对我们横加指责，因为我和罗恩是和你站在一边的，除非你没有注意到。”

    短暂的静默。

    “对不起。”哈利低声说。

    “没关系，”赫敏端着架子说，接着又摇摇头，“你们不记得邓布利多在上学期结束的宴会上说的话了吗？”

    哈和和罗恩傻乎乎地望着她，赫敏又叹了口气。

    “关于神秘人的。邓布利多说他‘制造冲突和敌意的手段十分高明。我们只有表现出同样牢不可破的友谊和信任——　”’“你怎么能记住这样的话？”罗恩钦佩地望着她问道。“我仔细听了，罗恩。”赫敏略微有些粗暴地说。“我也听了呀，可是我还是说不出到底——　”

    “问题是，”赫敏很不客气地大声说，“这些才是邓布利多真正要说的话。神秘人回来才两个月，我们就已经开始自相争斗了。分院帽的警告也是同样的意思：团结一致——　”　“哈利昨天晚上说得对，”罗恩反驳说，“如果这意味着我们要跟斯莱特林的人交朋友——　可能性很小。”“哎，我认为我们不能为学院之间的团结做出努力是非常遗憾的。”赫敏火气很冲地说。

    他们来到大理石楼梯底下，拉文克劳的一群四年级学生正鱼贯穿过门厅。他们一看见哈利就赶紧凑成一堆，似乎惟恐哈利会对落在后面的人下毒手。“是啊，我们确实应该努力跟那样的人交朋友。”哈利讽刺地说。

    他们跟着拉文克劳的同学走进礼堂，一进门都不由自主地朝教工桌子望去。格拉普兰教授正跟天文学教师辛尼斯塔教授在聊天，海格又一次因为缺席而格外引人注意。被施了魔法的天花板正好反映了哈利的情绪：灰蒙蒙的，一片愁云惨雾。

    “邓布利多一句也没提那个姓格拉普兰的女人要在这儿待多久。”他说，这时他们正朝格兰芬多的桌子走去。“也许？？”赫敏若有所思地说。“什么？”哈利和罗恩同时问道。“噢？？也许他不想让大家注意到海格不在这儿。”

    “你这是什么意思？不想让大家注意，”罗恩轻声笑了起来，“我们怎么可能不注意呢？”赫敏还没来得及回答，一个梳着长辫子的高个黑肤色女孩大步走到啥利跟前。“你好，安吉利娜。”“你好，”她轻快地说，“暑假过得怎么样？”没等回答，她接着又说：“知道吗，我被选为格兰芬多魁地奇球队的队长了。”“太好了。”哈利说，咧嘴朝她笑着。他怀疑安吉利娜给球员们鼓劲时可能不像奥利弗伍德那样哕里哕嗦，这倒是一件好事。

    “啊，对了，奥利弗走了，我们需要一个新的守门员。选拔将于星期五下午五点钟进行，我希望全体队员都能到场，行吗？这样我们可以看看那个新人能不能够跟大家很好地配合。”

    “好的。”哈利说。

    安吉利娜朝他笑了一下走了。

    “我忘记伍德已经走了，”赫敏在罗恩身边坐下，把一盘面包拖到面前，淡淡地说，“我想那会给球队带来很大的影响吧？”“我想也是，”哈利在对面的板凳上坐了下来，“他是个出色的守门员？？”“不过，吸收一点新鲜血液也不坏呀，是不是？”罗恩说。

    突然，嗖嗖嗖，咔啦咔啦咔啦，几百只猫头鹰从高处的窗口飞了进来。它们落到礼堂各处，把信件和包裹带给它们的主人，同时也把水珠洒在了吃早饭的人头上。显然，外面正在下着大雨。海德薇不见踪影，但哈利并不感到意外。给他写信的只有小天狼星，现在刚分别了二十四个小时，估计小天狼星不会有什么新鲜事儿要告诉他。赫敏不得不手忙脚乱地把橘子汁挪到一边，给一只嘴里叼着一份湿漉漉的《预言家日报》的谷仓猫头鹰腾出地方。

    “你怎么还订那玩意儿？”哈利气恼地说，又想起了西莫，这时赫敏把一个纳特放在猫头鹰脚上的小皮钱袋里，猫头鹰扑扇着翅膀飞走了，“我才不费那功夫？？都是一堆垃圾。”

    “最好了解一下敌人在说什么。”赫敏一本正经地说。她展开报纸，把自己挡在后面，一直到哈利和罗恩都吃完早饭了，才重新把脸露了出来。

    “没有什么，”她简单地说，把报纸卷起来放在了盘子旁边，“没有说到你和邓布利多，什么都没有说。”

    这时候，麦格教授顺着桌子挨个儿分发课程表。

    “看看今天！”罗恩唉声叹气地说，“魔法历史、两节魔药课、占卜课、两节黑魔法防御术课？？宾斯、斯内普、特里劳妮，还有那个叫乌姆里奇的女人，都在这同一天里！我希望弗雷德和乔治加快速度，赶紧把那些速效逃课糖弄出来？？”

    “别是我的耳朵出毛病了吧？”弗雷德说，他和乔洽刚来，挤坐在哈利旁边，“霍格沃茨的级长总不会想要逃课吧？”

    “看看我们今天有多倒霉。”罗恩发着牢骚，把他的课程表塞到了弗雷德鼻子底下，“我还从没有碰到过这么糟糕的星期一呢。”

    “说得对呀，老弟，”弗雷德一边浏览课程表一边说道，“如果你愿意，可以来点儿鼻血牛扎糖，很便宜的。”

    “为什么便宜？”罗恩怀疑地说。

    “因为鼻血会一直流个不停，最后你整个人都缩成一团。我们还没有研究出解药呢。”乔治说着开始吃一块熏鱼。

    “谢谢啦，”罗恩闷闷不乐地说，一边把课程表装进了口袋，“我想我还是去上课吧。”

    “说到你们的速效逃课糖，”赫敏严厉地瞪着弗雷德和乔治说，“你们不能在-158　？格兰芬多的布告栏上贴广告招聘试验者。”

    “谁说的？”乔治说，一副很吃惊的样子。

    “我说的，”赫敏说，“还有罗恩。”

    “这事儿跟我可没关系。”罗恩赶紧说道。

    赫敏气呼呼地瞪着他。弗雷德和乔治哧哧地发笑。

    “过不了多久，你就会改变腔调了，赫敏，”弗雷德说，一边往。块烤面饼上涂抹厚厚的黄油，“你们开始上五年级了，很快就会求着我们要逃课糖。”

    “为什么上五年级就意味着我需要逃课糖呢？”赫敏问道。

    “五年级是0.W.Ls年①。”乔治说。

    “那又怎么样？”

    “那就是说，你们要没完没了地应付考试，是不是？它们会像一块砂轮在使劲打磨你们的鼻子，会把鼻尖的皮都磨破。”弗雷德幸灾乐祸地说。

    “就为了0.w.Ls，我们年级一半的同学都闹了点儿小毛病”乔治兴高采烈地说，“哭鼻子抹泪啦，发脾气啦？？帕翠霞斯廷森动不动就晕倒？？”

    “肯尼思托勒全身长满了疖子，你还记得吗？”弗雷德回忆道。

    “那是因为你往他的睡衣里放了大泡粉。”乔治说。

    “噢，对了，”弗雷德说着顽皮地笑了，“我忘记了？？有时候真是很难记得清楚，是吧？”

    “总之，五年级真是噩梦般的一年，”乔治说，“如果你们比较在乎考试成绩的话。还好，弗雷德和我总算精神头还不错。”

    “是啊？？你们后来，怎么说来着，每人通过了三门O.w.Ls？”罗恩说。

    “没错，”弗雷德漠不关心地说，“但我们觉得我们的前途是在学术成就之外。”

    “我们严肃地讨论过是不是还要回来上七年级，”乔治眉飞色舞地说，“既然我们已经有了——　”

    他看到哈利警告的目光，赶紧刹住了口，哈利知道乔治就要说到他送给他们的那笔三强争霸赛的奖金了。

    “——　既然我们现在已经有了O.w.Ls证书，”乔治赶紧改口道，“我是说，难道我们真的需要N.E.w.Ts（2）证书吗？但是我们想妈妈肯定不会让我们提早离开学校的，现在珀西又变成了世界上最大的傻瓜，妈妈就更不会同意了。”

    “不过我们不会浪费在这里的最后一年的，”弗雷德说，一边留恋地环顾着礼堂，“我们要利用这一年时间做一些市场研究，弄清霍格沃茨的普通学生到底希①指的是普通巫师等级考试。

    ②指的是终极巫师考试。

    -159　？望从笑话商店里买到什么，认真鉴定我们的研究成果，然后生产出满足需要的产品。“

    “可是你们从哪儿去弄开办笑话商店的本钱呢？”赫敏怀疑地问，“你们需要所有的配料和原料——　我想，还有场地？？”

    哈利没有看双胞胎，他感到脸上发烧，便故意把勺子掉在地上，然后俯身去捡。他听见弗雷德在他头顶上说：“别问我们，我们不会编谎话骗你，赫敏。走吧，乔治，我们如果去得早，还能在草药课前卖掉几只伸缩耳呢。”

    啥利从桌子底下钻了出来，正好看见弗雷德和乔治走开的背影，每人手里拿着一摞面包。

    “那是什么意思？”赫敏说，看看哈利，又看看罗恩，“别问我们？？‘莫非他们已经弄到了一些开办笑话商店所需要的资金？”

    “其实，我也一直在纳闷这件事呢。”罗恩紧锁着眉头说，“他们今年暑假给我买了一套新礼袍，我真不明白他们是从哪儿弄来的钱？？”

    哈利认为必须赶紧转移话题，离开这片危险的水域。

    “你们说，这个学年真的很够呛吗？因为那些考试？”

    “噢，是的，”罗恩说，“那是肯定的，是吧？O.w.Ls确实非常重要，影响到以后可以申请什么工作等等。这个学年的下学期我们还会得到求职方面的建议，比尔告诉我的。这样明年我们就可以挑选自己需要的N.E.w.Ts科目了。”

    “你知道你从霍格沃茨毕业后想做什么吗？”哈利问他们俩，这时他们已经离开礼堂，朝魔法史课的教室走去。

    “还没想好，”罗恩慢吞吞地说，“除非？？嗯？？”

    他显得有点儿不好意思。

    “什么？”哈利催促道。

    “嗯，当一个傲罗倒是蛮酷的。”罗恩用半真半假的口吻说。

    “是啊。”哈利热情高涨地说。

    “可是他们差不多都是精英，”罗恩说，“你必须非常出色才行呢。你呢，赫敏？”

    “我不知道。”她说，“我想做一些真正有价值的事情。”

    “当一个傲罗就很有价值！”哈利说。

    “是的，但是有价值的事情并不止这一件，”赫敏若有所思地说，“我是说，如果我能进一步推动家养小精灵权益促进会？？”

    哈利和罗恩都小心地不去看对方的眼睛。

    魔法史被公为是巫师界设计的最枯燥的一门课程。他们的鬼魂老师宾斯先生说起话来呼哧带喘，拖腔拖调，几乎肯定能在十分钟内使人昏昏欲睡；如果天气炎热，五分钟就够了。他上课的形式一成不变，总是滔滔不绝地照本宣科，而他们就在底下做笔记，或者更准确地说，是在睡眼朦胧地发愣。哈利和罗恩的这门功课一直勉强能够及格，多亏了在考试前照抄赫敏的笔记。似乎只有赫敏一个人能够抵挡住宾斯声音的催眠力量。

    今天，他们忍受着宾斯教授拖着腔调地讲述巨人战争的话题，足足忍受了一个半小时。哈利刚听了十分钟，就模模糊糊地意识到如果换了另外一位老师，这个题目大概会比较引人人胜，接着他的大脑就走神了，在剩下来的一小时二十分钟里，他和罗恩一直在他羊皮纸的一角玩刽子手的游戏，赫敏不时用眼角的余光狠狠地瞪着他们。

    “如果我今年不把笔记借给你们，会怎么样呢？”他们离开教室出去休息时（宾斯教授穿过黑板飘走了），赫敏冷冷地问他们。

    “我们的魔法史0.W.Ls就会不及格。”罗恩说，“如果你想受到良心的责备，赫敏？？”

    “哼，那是你们活该，”她厉声反驳道，“你们根本就没有认真昕他讲课，对吗？”

    “我们努力来着，”罗恩说，“我们只是没有你那样的大脑，你那样的记性、那样好的注意力——　你就是比我们聪明嘛——　你就不要哪壶不开提哪壶了好不好？”

    “哼，别给我灌这些迷魂汤。”赫敏说，但她的表情微微缓和了些，领头来到外面湿乎乎的院子里。

    天上下着蒙蒙细雨，因此，三三两两挤在院子里的人们看上去轮廓有点儿模糊。哈利、罗恩和赫敏在一个不断滴水的阳台下面找了个隐蔽的角落，竖起长袍的领子抵挡九月的寒风，一边谈论着在本学年的第一节魔药课上，斯内普会给他们布置什么作业。他们一致同意那大概是一件很难很难的事情，为的是在两个月的假期后给他们一个下马威，就在这时，有人绕过拐角朝他们走来。

    “你好，哈利！”

    是秋张，更希罕的是，她这次又是一个人。这真是不同寻常，秋几乎总是被一大帮叽叽咕咕的女生包围着。哈利还记得他曾经有过的痛苦：他千方百计地想在她独自一人时碰到她，好邀请她参加圣诞节的舞会。

    “你好。”哈利说，感觉到自己的脸热得发烫。这次至少你身上没沾着臭汁，他对自己说。秋似乎也想到了同样的事情。

    “看来，你把那玩意儿清除于净了？”

    “是啊。”哈利说，竭力想露出点笑容，似乎他们上一次见面不是尴尬的，而是挺好玩的。“那么，你？？嗯？？暑假过得好吗？”

    话一出口，他就后悔不该这么问——　塞德里克曾是秋的男朋友，他的去世一定影响了她在暑假里的心情，就像哈利自己也没有过好暑假一样。秋的脸上似-161　？乎微微紧了紧，但她说：“噢，挺好的，你知道？？”

    “那是龙卷风队的徽章吗？”罗恩突然指着秋的长袍前胸问道，那里别着一枚天蓝色的徽章，上面有两个鲜艳醒目的金色字母“T”①。“你该不是支持他们吧？”

    “我确实支持他们。”秋说。

    “你是一直就支持他们呢，还是从他们开始赢得俱乐部联合会杯后才支持他们的？”罗恩问，用的是一种在哈利看来没有必要的指责口气。

    “我从六岁起就支持他们了，”秋冷冷地说，“好吧？？再见，哈利。”

    她走开了。赫敏等到秋走到院子中间，便回过头来责骂罗恩。

    “你太不懂事了！”

    “什么？我不过问她是不是——　”

    “你难道看不出来，她是想跟哈利单独谈谈吗？”

    “那又怎么样？她完全可以谈嘛，我又没有拦着她——　”

    “你凭什么对她支持的魁地奇球队横加指责？”

    “指责？我没有指责她，我只是——　”

    “谁在乎她支持不支持龙卷风队？”

    “哦，得啦，你看见戴着那些徽章的人，一半都是上个赛季刚买的——　”

    “可那又有什么关系？”‘“那就说明他们并不是真正的球迷，他们只是跟风，赶浪头——　”

    “上课铃响了。”哈利无精打采地说，罗恩和赫敏吵得太厉害了，没有听见铃声。他们在走向斯内普地下教室的一路上还在吵个不停。这使哈利有足够的时间想道，他身边有赫敏和罗恩这两个人，不知这辈子还有没有运气在不离开自己国家的情况下，跟秋说上两分钟令他回昧无穷的话。

    当他们排在斯内普教室门外的队伍里时，他又想道，她是主动来跟我说话的，是不是呢？她曾经是塞德里克的女朋友，本来是很有理由恨他的，因为他活着走出了三强争霸赛的迷宫，而塞德里克却死了，然而她却用十分友好的态度跟他说话，似乎她并不认为他头脑不正常，谎话连篇，或对塞德里克的死负有某种可怕的责任？？是的，她确实是主动来跟他说话，丽且是两天里的第二次了？？想到这里，哈利的情绪欢悦起来，就连地下教室的门打开时发出的吱吱嘎嘎的阴森声音，也没有刺破那似乎在他内心深处膨胀起来的小小的希望泡沫。他跟在罗恩和赫敏后面走进教室，又跟着他们走向他们惯常坐的那张位于后排的桌子，假装没有听见他们俩发出的气呼呼的拌嘴声。

    “安静。”斯内普冷冷地说，反手关上了教室的门。

    ①龙卷风队，即塔特希尔龙卷风队，其英文的两个词的第一个字母都是T.

    其实他根本没有必要命令大家安静，全班同学一听见门关上了，立刻变得鸦雀无声，所有的小动作都停止了。一般来说，只要斯内普一出现，就足够让整个班级沉默下来。

    “在我们今天开始上课前，”斯内普快步走向讲台，严厉地望着他们大家说道，“我认为需要提醒你们一下，明年六月，你们就要参加一项重要的考试了，那时你们将证明自己学到了多少魔药配制和使用方面的知识。尽管这个班上有几个人确实智力很迟钝，但我希望你们在o.w.Ls考试中都能够勉强”及格“，不然我会？？很生气。”

    他的目光这次落在了纳威脸上，纳威吓得倒吸了一口冷气。

    “当然啦，过了这一年，你们中问的许多人就不能再上我的课了，”斯内普继续说道，“我只挑选最优秀的学生进我的N.E.w.Ts魔药班，这就是说，我们有些人将不得不说再见了。”

    他微微噘起了嘴，目光落在哈利脸上。哈利也毫不示弱地瞪着他，一想到过了五年级，他就可以放弃魔药课了，不由感到一种恶狠狠的快意。

    “但是在那告别的愉快时刻到来之前，我们还需要再坚持一年。”斯内普轻声细语地说，“因此，不管你们是否打算参加N.E.W.TS考试，我都建议你们大家集中精力学好功课，达到我要求我的o.W.Ls学生们达到的较高的及格水平。

    “今天，我们要配制一种普通巫师等级考试中经常出现的药剂：缓和羽，它能平息和舒缓烦躁焦虑的情绪。注意：如果放配料的时候马马虎虎，就会使服药者陷入一种死沉的、有时甚至是不可逆转的昏睡，所以你们需要格外注意自己的行为。”在哈利的左边，赫敏把身子坐得更直了一些，脸上是一种全神贯注的表情。“配料和配制方法——　”斯内普一挥魔杖，“——　在黑板上——　”（黑板上果然出现了）“——　你们所需要的一切——　”他又一挥魔杖，“——　在储藏柜里——　”（他所说的那个储藏柜的门一下子打开了）“——　你们有一个半小时？？开始吧。”

    正像哈利、罗恩和赫敏所猜测的，斯内普布置他们配制的这种药剂是最难、最费手脚的一种。必须按照严格的顺序和份量将配料加进坩埚；必须将混合剂搅拌到规定的次数，不能多也不能少，先是顺时针，然后是逆时针；坩埚沸腾时火苗的温度必须降至某个特定的标准，不能高也不能低，并保持一段特定的时间，然后才能加入最后一种配料。

    。“你们的药剂现在应该冒出一股淡淡的、银白色的蒸汽。”还剩十分钟的时候斯内普说道。

    哈利忙得大汗淋漓，绝望地抬头扫了一眼教室。他自己的坩埚冒出一团团深灰色的气体，罗恩的坩埚正喷溅着绿色的火花。西莫发了疯似的用魔杖尖去捅他坩埚下面的火苗，因为它们眼看就要熄灭了。赫敏的药剂倒是正冒出一股微微闪烁的银白色蒸汽，当斯内普快步走过时，鹰钩鼻上的眼睛低垂着看了看赫-163　？敏的坩埚，没有做任何评论，这就是说他挑不出任何毛病。可是，在哈利的坩埚旁，斯内普停下脚步低头望着坩埚，脸上带着一种可怕的讥讽。“波特，这是什么东西？”教室前排的斯莱特林们都很感兴趣地抬起头来，他们最喜欢听斯内普挖苦哈利了。“缓和剂。”哈利紧张地说。

    “波特，告诉我，”斯内普轻声细语地说，“你认识字吗？”德拉科马尔福大声笑了起来。“认识。”哈利说，手紧紧地攥住了魔杖。“把操作说明的第三行念给我听昕，波特。”

    哈利眯眼望着黑板。现在地下教室里弥漫着各种颜色的蒸汽，要看清黑板上的操作说明真不容易。“‘加入月长石粉，逆时针搅拌三次，沸腾七分钟，再加入两滴嚏根草糖浆。？他的心往下一沉。他没有加嚏根草糖浆，他让药剂沸腾七分钟后，就直接执行第四条操作说明了。”第三条里每一项你都做到了吗，波特？“”没有。“哈利很小声地说。”对不起，请你再说一遍。“

    “没有，”哈利提高了声音说，“我忘记放嚏根草了。”

    “我知道你忘记了，波特，这就意味着这一坩埚垃圾毫无用处。消隐无踪。”

    哈利的药剂一下子消失了。他傻乎乎地站在一只空坩埚旁。

    “凡是认真读了操作说明的同学，把你们的药剂样品装进一个太肚短颈瓶里，仔细标上自己的姓名，拿到我的讲台上接受检验。”斯内普说，“家庭作业：在羊皮纸上写十二英寸长的论文，论述月长石的特性及其在制药方面的用途，星期四交。”

    哈利周围的同学都在往短颈瓶里装药剂，他把东西一样样收起来，心里气得不行。他的药剂并不比罗恩的差，罗恩的那一坩埚东西现在发出一股臭鸡蛋的气味；也不比纳威的差，纳威的药剂变得硬邦邦的，像刚刚搅拌好的水泥，他这会儿不得不使劲把它从坩埚里抠出来。然而偏偏是他，哈利，今天的作业得了零分。他把魔杖放回书包，一屁股坐在座位上，望着其他同学一个个拿着装满药剂、盖上软木塞的短颈瓶，走向斯内普的讲台。过了很长时间，下课铃终于响了，哈利第一个冲出地下教室。他已经开始吃午饭了，罗恩和赫敏才来到礼堂。天花板比上午的时候变得更昏暗阴沉了，雨点啪啪地打着高处的窗户。

    “那真是很不公平，”赫敏安慰他道，她坐在哈利身边，给自己拿了一块肉馅土豆泥馅饼，“你的药剂远不像高尔的那么糟糕，当他往瓶子里装的时候，整个那-164　？堆东西突然四下进溅，把他的袍子都烧着了。”

    “是啊，这也难怪，”哈利说，气呼呼地瞪着面前的盘子，“斯内普什么时候公平地对待过我呢？”

    赫敏和罗恩谁也没有回答。三个人心里都清楚，斯内普和哈利之间的敌意，从哈利踏进霍格沃茨的那一刻起就已经根深蒂固了。

    “我还以为他今年会有点儿好转呢，”赫敏用失望的口气说，“我的意思是？？你们知道的？？”她小心地望了望四周，他们两边都空着六七个座位，也没有人从桌子旁走过。“？？现在他加入了凤凰社，还有所有的一切。”

    “毒蘑菇是不会改变它们的斑点的，”罗恩一针见血地说，“反正，我一直认为邓布利多真是疯了，居然相信斯内普。有什么证据能证明他真的不再为神秘人工作了呢？”

    “我认为邓布利多大概得到了足够的证据，尽管他没有拿给你看，罗恩。”赫敏毫不客气地说。

    “哦，闭嘴吧，你们两个。”罗恩张嘴正要反驳，哈利烦躁地说。赫敏和罗恩都怔住了，显得又生气又委屈。“你们就不能消停一会儿？”哈利说，“总是没完没了地斗来斗去，都快把我逼疯了。”说完，他扔下自己的肉馅土豆泥馅饼，把书包甩上肩头，扬长而去，留下两人坐在那里直发愣。

    他一步两级地走上大理石楼梯，与许多匆匆忙忙赶去吃午饭的同学擦肩而过。刚才突然爆发的那股无名火，还在他心里熊熊燃烧着，想到罗恩和赫敏脸上惊愕的表情，他感到一种深深的快意。那是他们活该，他想道，他们为什么就不能安静点儿？？总是一天到晚争争吵吵？？换了谁都会被逼疯的？？在一处楼梯平台上，他从骑士卡多根爵士的大幅画像前走过。卡多根爵士拔出宝剑，恶狠狠地朝哈利挥舞着，哈利根本不理睬他。

    “回来，你这逃跑的懦夫！不许退缩，跟我战斗！”卡多根爵士从面罩后面用发闷的声音喊道，但哈利只顾继续往前走，卡多根爵士想来追他，于是跳进相邻的一幅画里，但住在画里的一只模样凶狠的大狼狗把他赶了回去。

    在剩下来的吃午饭时间里，哈利一直独自坐在北塔楼顶上的活板门下。当上课铃响起时，他便第一个爬上了通往西比尔特里劳妮教室的银色梯子。

    除了魔药课，占卜课是哈利最不喜欢的课程，这主要是因为特里劳妮教授有一个习惯，每过几堂课就要预言哈利会死于非命。特里劳妮教授是一个瘦巴巴的女人，裹着厚厚的披肩，戴着一串串闪闪发亮的珠子，她的眼镜把她的一双眼睛放大了好几倍，总使哈利联想起某种昆虫。哈利进屋时，她正忙着把一本本破破烂烂皮革装订的书分发在每张桌子上，那些单薄的小桌子杂乱无章地摆放在教室里。盖着罩布的灯发出的光线和散发出一股难闻气味的不太旺的炉火都十分昏暗，当哈利在阴影里找了一个座位坐下时，她似乎没有看见他。接下来的五-165　？分钟里，班里的同学陆陆续续地来了。罗恩从活板门里探出头，仔细往四下里张望着，看见了哈利，直接朝他走了过来，或者说是尽量直接走了过来，因为他必须小心地绕过那么多桌子、椅子和一只只塞得鼓鼓囊囊的小坐垫。“赫敏和我已经不吵了。”他说，在哈利身边坐了下来。

    “很好。”哈利嘟囔了一句。

    “但赫敏说，她希望你不要动不动就朝我们发脾气。”罗恩说。“我没有——　”　“我只是传个话，”罗恩好言好语地劝说道，“但我认为她说得对。西莫和斯内普那么对待你又不是我们的错。”“我从没有说过——　”　“同学们好，”特里劳妮教授用她模糊的、如梦似幻的惯常声音说道，哈利赶紧闭了嘴，心里既恼火又有些羞愧，“欢迎你们回到占卜课上。当然啦，整个暑假我一直十分用心地关注着你们的命运，看到你们全都安然无恙地返回霍格沃茨，我非常高兴——　因为，当然啦，我知道你们都会回来的。

    “你们会发现在你们的桌子上有一本伊尼戈英麦格写的《解梦指南》。解梦是占卜未来的一个十分重要的方法，也是你们的0.w.Ls考试中很可能会出现的一个题目。当然啦，我认为相比于占卜这门神圣的艺术来说，能否通过考试实在是很不重要的。只要你们有了慧眼，什么证书啦，等级啦，都是区区小事。不过，校长愿意让你们参加考试，所以？？”

    她的声音很优雅地逐渐降低了，使得同学们都确信，特里劳妮教授认为她这门课要比考试之类的俗事重要得多。“请把书翻到导论，读一读英麦格关于解梦问题的说法。然后，分成两人一组，用《解梦指南》来解释对方最近做过的梦。开始吧。”

    这门课倒是有一个好处，它不是连上两节。等全班同学读完那本书的导论时，就只有十分钟时间让他们解释梦境了。在与哈利和罗恩相邻的桌子上，迪安和纳威分在一组，纳威立刻就开始啰里啰嗦地解释一个噩梦，梦里有一把大剪刀嘎吱嘎吱地剪他奶奶最好的一顶帽子。哈利和罗恩只是愁眉苦脸地大眼瞪小眼。

    “我做梦从来不记得。”罗恩说，“你说一个吧。”“你总能想起一个的。”哈利不耐烦地说。他不想把自己的梦说给任何人听。他心里很清楚他三天两头梦见一片墓地意味着什么，他不需要罗恩、特里劳妮教授，或愚蠢的《解梦指南》来告诉他。“好吧，那天夜里我梦见自己在打魁地奇球，”罗恩说，皱起眉头拼命回忆着，“你认为那意味着什么？”“那大概意味着你要被一颗巨大的软糖吃掉。”哈利兴味索然地翻看着《解梦-166　？指南》说道。

    在《指南》上查找一个个梦境真是一件枯燥乏味的事情，后来特里劳妮教授布置他们记录下一个月里每天做的梦作为家庭作业，哈利听了更是闷闷不乐。下课铃响了，他和罗恩领头走下梯子，罗恩大声抱怨道：“你知不知道我们已经有多少家庭作业了？宾斯叫我们写一篇一英尺半长的论文，谈巨人战争，斯内普要的论文是一英尺长，讲月长石的用途，现在特里劳妮又要我们记下一个月里每天做的梦！弗雷德和乔治说这个o.w.Ls年日子难熬，看来确实这样，是不是？那个姓乌姆里奇的女人最好别再给我们？？”

    他们走进黑魔法防御术课的教室时，发现乌姆里奇教授已经坐在讲台后面了。她穿着前一天晚上穿的那件毛绒绒的粉红色开襟毛衣，头顶上戴着那个黑天鹅绒的蝴蝶结。哈利又一次强烈而鲜明地想到一只大苍蝇愚蠢地落在了一只更大的癞蛤蟆身上。

    全班同学走进教室时都默不作声，乌姆里奇教授还是个未知数，谁也不知道她对于课堂纪律的要求有多么严格。

    “同学们，下午好！”全班同学都坐下后，她说道。

    几个同学嘟哝着“下午好”作为回答。

    “啧，啧，”乌姆里奇教授说，“这可不行，是不是？我希望你们这样回答：”下午好，乌姆里奇教授。‘请再来一遍。同学们，下午好！“

    “下午好，乌姆里奇教授。”他们异口同声地回答。

    “这就对了，”乌姆里奇教授声音嗲嗲地说，“这并不太难，是不是？请收起魔杖，拿出羽毛笔。”

    许多同学交换着郁闷的眼神。跟在“收起魔杖”这个命令后面的，从来都不是他们觉得有趣的课。哈利把他的魔杖塞进书包，拿出了羽毛笔、墨水和羊皮纸。乌姆里奇教授打开她的手提包，抽出一根短得出奇的魔杖，在黑板上使劲一敲，黑板上立刻出现了两行字：黑魔法防御术回归基本原理“同学们，你们这门课的教学一直是断断续续的，不成系统，是不是？”乌姆里奇教授转身面对着全班同学，两只手十指交叉，端端正正地放在胸前，然后说道，“教师不断更换，其中许多人似乎并没有遵照魔法部批准的课程标准进行授课，这不幸使你们现在远远没有达到O.w.Ls年理应达到的水平。

    “然而你们将会很高兴地知道，这些问题即将得到改正。今年，我们将要学习的是一门经过精心安排、以理论为中心、由魔法部批准的魔法防御术课程。请把这些话抄下来。”

    -167　？她又敲了敲黑板，刚才那两行字消失了，取而代之的是“课程目标”。

    l、理解魔法防御术曲基本原理。

    2、学会辩别可以合法使用魔法防御术的场合。

    3、在实际运用的背景下评定魔法防御术。

    教室里只听得羽毛笔在羊皮纸上写字的沙沙声，两三分钟后，当每个同学都把乌姆里奇教授的三个课程目标抄录下来后，她问道：“是不是每位同学都有一本威尔伯特斯林卡的《魔法防御理论》？”

    班里响起一片喃喃表示肯定的声音。

    “我认为我们还要再来一遍，”乌姆里奇教授说，“当我问你们一个问题时，我希望你们回答‘是的，乌姆里奇教授。’或者‘不，乌姆里奇教授。’再来一遍：是不是每位同学都有一本威尔伯特斯林卡的《魔法防御理论》？”

    “是的，乌姆里奇教授。”全班同学大声回答。

    “很好，”乌姆里奇教授说，“我希望你们把书翻到第五页，读一读‘第一章，入门基础原理’。读的时候不要交头接耳。”

    乌姆里奇教授离开黑板，在讲台后面的椅子上坐了下来，用那两只眼皮松垂的癞蛤蟆似的眼睛盯着大家。哈利把他那本《魔法防御理论》翻到第五页，开始读了起来。

    内容十分枯燥，简直就跟听宾斯教授讲课一样毫无趣味。他感到自己的注意力一点点地减退了。很快，他就盯着一行文字看了六七遍，却只看懂了开头几个单词。几分钟过去了，教室里鸦雀无声。在他旁边，罗恩心不在焉地把羽毛笔在手指上转来转去，眼睛呆呆地瞪着书上同一个地方。哈利把目光转向右边，猛地大吃一惊，一下子从麻木的状态中清醒过来。赫敏甚至没有打开她那本《魔法防御理论》。她眼睛一眨不眨地盯着乌姆里奇教授，一只手高高举起。

    哈利记得赫敏以前从来不在老师要求读书的时候不照着做，或能够抵挡住诱惑，不去翻开任何一本出现在她面前的书。哈利询问地看着她，但她只是微微摇了摇头，表示她现在不想回答问题，随即继续盯着乌姆里奇教授，而乌姆里奇教授的目光正同样坚定地望着完全相反的方向。

    又过了几分钟，注视着赫敏的可不止哈利一个人了。老师吩咐他们读的那一章实在太哕嗦乏味了，越来越多的同学都更愿意注视赫敏怎样不出声地吸引乌姆里奇教授的目光，而不愿再去吭哧吭哧地啃什么“入门基础原理”。

    后来，班上超过一半的同学都在盯着赫敏，而不是看着他们的课本了，乌姆里奇教授似乎认为她再也不能对这种情况视而不见了。

    “亲爱的，你是对这一章的内容有什么疑问吗？”她问赫敏，似乎刚刚注意到她。

    -168　？“不，不是关于这一章的内容。”赫敏说。

    “噢，我们现在是在读书，”乌姆里奇教授说，露出嘴里又小又尖的牙齿，“如果你有其他问题，我们可以下课的时候再谈。”

    “我对你的课程目标有一个疑问。”赫敏说。

    乌姆里奇教授扬起了眉毛。

    “你叫什么名字？”

    “赫敏-格兰杰。”赫敏说。

    “好吧，格兰杰小姐，我认为，这些课程目标写得非常清楚，只要你把它们从头到尾仔细读一遍。”乌姆里奇教授用坚定不移的嗲嗲的口吻说。

    “可是，我不这么认为，”赫敏直言不讳地说，“那上面一个字也没有提到使用防御性咒语。”

    一阵短暂的沉默，班里许多同学都扭过头仔细看着仍然写在黑板上的那三条课程目标。

    “使用防御性咒语？”乌姆里奇教授轻声笑着重复道，“哎呀，我无法想象在我的课堂里会出现需要你们使用防御性咒语的情况，格兰杰小姐。你总不至于认为会在上课时受到攻击吧？”

    “我们不能使用魔法吗？”罗恩大声喊了一句。

    “在我的班上，同学想要讲话必须先举手，你是——　”

    “韦斯莱。”罗恩说着赶紧把手举了起来。

    乌姆里奇教授笑得更慈祥了，一转身背对着罗恩。哈利和赫敏马上也举起了手。乌姆里奇教授那双松泡泡的眼睛在哈利身上停留了一会儿，然后她对赫敏说：“怎么，格兰杰小姐？你还有别的问题要问吗？”

    “是的，”赫敏说，“黑魔法防御术的总体目标当然应该是练习防御性咒语，是吗？”

    “你是魔法部专门培训的教育专家吗，格兰杰小姐？”乌姆里奇教授用她那甜得发腻的假声音问。

    “不是，但——　”

    “那好，我想你恐怕没有资格判断任何一门课的‘总体目标’是什么。我们的最新学习计划，是由比你年长得多、聪明得多的巫师们设计制定的。你们将以一种安全的、没有风险的方式学习防御性咒语——　”　“那有什么用呢？”哈利大声问，“如果我们受到攻击，那肯定不会是以一种——　”　“举手，波特先生！”乌姆里奇教授用唱歌般的声音说。哈利赶紧把手高高举起。乌姆里奇教授又故伎重演。立刻转过脸去看别的-169　？地方，可是现在又有另外几个学生举起了手。

    “你叫什么名字？”乌姆里奇教授问迪安。

    “迪安托马斯。”

    “说吧，托马斯先生。”

    “嗯，就像哈利说的那样，不是吗？”迪安说，“如果我们受到攻击，是不可能没有风险的。”

    “我再说一遍，”乌姆里奇教授说，一边以那种特别令人恼火的方式朝迪安微笑着，“你认为在我的班里会受到攻击吗？”

    “不会。可是——　”

    乌姆里奇教授的声音压过了迪安的声音。“我不愿意批评这个学校的一些办学方式，”她说，脸上堆起虚假的笑容，把那张阔嘴咧得更大了，“但是在这个班里你们接触了几个很不负责任的巫师，确实很不负责任——　更不用说，”她发出一声刺耳的笑声，“还有特别危险的半人半兽。”

    “如果你指的是卢平教授，”迪安气愤地说，“他可是我们遇到的最好的老师——　”

    “举手，托马斯先生！正如我刚才说的——　他们给你们介绍的魔法都很复杂，不适合你们这个年龄段，而且具有极大的潜在危害。你们被吓得不轻，竟然以为自已三天两头就会遭到黑魔法的攻击——　”

    “不，我们没有，”赫敏说，“我们只是——　”

    “你没有举手，格兰杰小姐！”

    赫敏举起手，乌姆里奇教授转过脸去。

    “我认为，我的前任不仅在你们面前施用了非法的咒语，而且还在你们身上施用了这些咒语。”

    “可是，后来发现他是个疯子嘛，是不是？”迪安气呼呼地说，“说实在的，我们仍然学到不少东西呢。”

    “你没有举手，托马斯先生！”乌姆里奇教授用颤颤的声音说，“好了，魔法部认为，理论知识能够更有效地帮助你们通过考试，说到底，让学生通过考试才是学校的宗旨所在。你叫什么名字？”她瞪着刚剐把手举起来的帕瓦蒂问道。

    “帕瓦蒂‘佩蒂尔，我们的黑魔法防御术课的考试里就没有一点实践性的内容吗？我们是不是应该显示出我们确实会施破解咒和其他魔法呢？”

    “只要你们把理论学得非常扎实，就没有理由不会在严格控制的考试条件下施魔咒。”乌姆里奇教授轻蔑地说。

    “事先不需要练习吗？”帕瓦蒂不敢相信地问，“难道你是在对我们说，我们第一次施那些魔咒就是在考试的时候吗？”

    “我再说一遍，只要你们把理论学得非常扎实——　”

    -170　？“理论在现实世界里有什么用？”哈利又把拳头高高举起，大声问道。

    乌姆里奇教授抬起目光。

    “这是学校，波特先生，不是现实世界。”她轻声说。

    “那么我们不需要做好准备，　迎接等在外面的一切吗？”

    “没有什么等在外面，波特先生。”

    “哦，是吗？”哈利说。他的火气一整天都在内心暗暗翻腾，这时就要临近爆发点了。

    “你想象谁会来攻击你们这样的小孩子昵？”乌姆里奇教授用亲昵得可怕的声音问道。

    “嗯，让我想想？？”哈利用假装若有所思的口吻说，“也许？？伏地魔？”

    罗恩倒吸一口冷气，拉文德布朗发出一声低低的尖叫，纳威一歪身从板凳上摔了下去，然而乌姆里奇教授却没有显出害怕的样子。她只是盯着哈利，脸上露出一种恶狠狠的心满意足的表情。

    “格兰芬多扣除十分，波特先生。”

    教室里一片沉默和寂静。大家要么盯着乌姆里奇，要么盯着哈利。

    “好了，让我把几件事情弄弄清楚。”

    乌姆里奇教授站起来，身体朝前探着，两只手指短粗的手掌按在讲台上。

    “有人告诉你们说，某个黑巫师死而复生了——　”

    “他没有死，”哈利生气地说，“但是没错，他回来了！”

    “波特先生你已经让你们学院丢了十分，别再把事情越弄越糟，”鸟姆里奇教授一口气说完这句话，眼睛看也没看哈利，“正如我刚才说的，有人对你们说，某个黑巫师又出来活动了。这是无稽之谈。”

    “这不是无稽之谈！”哈利说，“我看见他了，我跟他搏斗了！”

    “关禁闭，波特先生！”乌姆里奇教授得意洋洋地说，“明天傍晚。五点钟。在我的办公室。我再说一遍，这是无稽之谈。魔法部保证你们不会遇到来自任何黑巫师的危险。如果你们仍然心存疑虑，请务必在课后来找我。如果有人用黑巫师死而复生的鬼话吓唬你们，我倒很愿意昕一听。我随时准备帮助你们。我是你们的朋友。好了，请大家继续阅读第五页，‘入门基本原理’。”

    乌姆里奇教授在她的讲台后面坐下了。哈利却站了起来。同学们都呆呆地望着他，西莫看上去半是害怕半是好奇。

    “哈利，不要！”赫敏小声警告道，拉了拉他的衣袖。但哈利一甩胳膊，不想让她碰自己。

    “那么，照你的说法，塞德里克迪戈里是自己倒下来死掉的喽？”哈利问，他的声音微微发颤。

    全班同学同时倒吸了一口冷气，因为除了罗恩和赫敏，他们谁都没有听见哈利谈论过塞德里克遇难那天夜里发生的事情。他们急切地望望哈利，又望望乌姆里奇教授，只见她抬起眼睛盯着哈利，脸上再也看不见一丝假笑了。“塞德里克迪戈里的死是一场不幸的事故。”她冷冷地说。

    “是谋杀。”哈利说。他感觉到自己浑身发抖。他几乎没有跟任何人谈过这件事，更不用说当着三十个竖起耳朵聆听的同班同学的面。“伏地魔杀死了他，你明明知道的。”

    乌姆里奇教授的脸上毫无表情。有那么一刻，哈利还以为她要冲自己失声尖叫呢。可接着她用那种最最温柔、最最嗲声嗲气的小姑娘一般的声音说道：“过来，波特先生，亲爱的。”

    哈利把椅子踢到一边，从罗恩和赫敏身边绕过，走向讲台。他可以感觉到全班同学都屏住了呼吸。他实在太气愤了，根本不在乎接下来会发生什么。

    乌姆里奇教授从她的手提包里抽出一卷粉红色的羊皮纸，在讲台上摊乎了，用她的羽毛笔在墨水瓶里蘸了蘸，匆匆地写了起来。她身子俯在讲台上，因此哈利看不见她在写什么。谁也没有说话。过了一分钟左右，她卷起羊皮纸，用她的魔杖敲了一下，羊皮纸就自动牢牢地封死了，使得哈利无法打开它。

    “亲爱的，把这个拿给麦格教授。”乌姆里奇教授说着把羊皮纸递给了啥利。

    哈利一言不发，从她手里接过羊皮纸，也没有回头看一眼罗恩和赫敏就离开了教室，反手把门重重地关上了。他顺着走廊飞快地往前走，手里紧紧攥着给麦格教授的便条，转过一个拐角，猛地撞上了皮皮鬼——　专门喜欢搞恶作剧的鬼魂。他是一个长着一张阔嘴巴的小个子男人，正平躺着悬在空中，像玩杂技一样抛接着几个墨水池。

    “哎呀，是傻宝宝波特！”皮皮鬼咯咯笑着说，让两个墨水池落到地上摔得粉碎，墨水溅到了墙上。哈利赶紧往后一跳躲开，大吼一声：“滚开，皮皮鬼！”

    “哎哟，怪人儿发怪脾气了。”皮皮鬼说，在走廊上追着哈利，在他上面往前飞，一边调皮地斜眼看着他，“这次又犯了什么事儿，我亲爱的傻宝宝朋友？脑子里听见声音啦？眼前有幻觉啦？又开始说——　”皮皮鬼轻蔑地大声咂了一下舌头，“——　怪腔啦？”

    “我说了，别来烦我！”哈利大喊一声，转身跑下离他最近的一道楼梯，但皮皮鬼平躺在他旁边的栏杆上也滑了下来。

    “哦，好多人以为他脾气暴，波特波特傻宝宝，有些人心肠不算坏，知道他只是太悲哀，皮皮鬼心里最清楚，说他是发疯犯糊涂——　”

    “闲嘴！”

    他左边的一扇门突然打开了，麦格教授从她的办公室里走了出来，脸色严峻，微微透着疲惫。

    “你到底在嚷嚷什么，波特？”她厉声问道，皮皮鬼开心地咯咯笑着，嗖的一下消失了，“你怎么不去上课？”

    “我被打发来见你。”哈利倔强地说。

    “打发？你这是什么意思，打发？”

    哈利把乌姆里奇教授的便条递过去，麦格教授从他手里接过，皱着眉头，用魔杖一敲把封口撕开，展开读了起来。她读着乌姆里奇写的文字，眼睛在方方的镜片后面飞快地来回移动，每读完一行，眼睛就眯得更紧一些。

    “进来，波特。”

    哈利跟着她走进她的办公室。门在他身后自动关上了。

    “　怎么回事？”麦格教授突然厉声对他说，“　这是真的吗？”

    “什么是真的？，‘哈利问，语气咄咄逼人，他本来不想这样的。”教授？“他又找补了一句，努力使声音听上去礼貌一点儿。

    “你真的冲乌姆里奇教授大吼大叫啦？”

    “是的。”哈利说。

    “你说她是个骗子啦？”

    “是的。”

    “你告诉她那个连名字都不能提的魔头回来啦？”

    “是的。”

    麦格教授在她的书桌后坐了下来，紧皱眉头望着哈利。然后她说：“吃一块饼干吧，波特。”

    “吃——　什么？”

    “吃一块饼干，”她不耐烦地又说了一遍，指着桌上一堆文件上的一只方格图案的饼干盒，“坐下吧。”

    以前曾经有过一次，哈利原以为要被麦格教授狠狠教训一顿，结果却被她选进了格兰芬多学院的魁地奇球队。此刻他坐进她对面的椅子里，自己拿了一块生姜蝾螈饼干，感觉就像那次一样迷惑不解，不知所措。

    麦格教授放下乌姆里奇教授的便条，非常严肃地望着哈利。

    “波特，你需要小心啊。”

    哈利咽下嘴里的生姜蝾螈饼干，不解地瞪着她。她的语气跟他以前所熟悉的完全不同。不再那么敏捷、干脆和严厉，而是低沉的、忧心忡忡的，似乎比平常更有人情味。

    “在多洛雷斯乌姆里奇的课上不守纪律，你付出的代价可能要比学院扣分和关禁闭严重得多。”

    -173　？“你这是什么——　”

    “波特，用你的常识想一想，”麦格教授厉声地说，突然又恢复了她平常的腔调，“你知道她是从哪儿来的，你一定知道她会去向谁汇报。”　下课铃响了。他们的头顶上和周围响起几百个学生同时走动的嘈杂声。“这里写着，她这个星期每天晚上都要罚你关禁闭，从明天开始。”麦格教授又低头看了看乌姆里奇的便条，说道。“这星期每天晚上！”哈利重复了一遍，简直被吓坏了，“可是，教授，难道你——　”　“不行，我不能。”麦格教授断然地说。“可是——　”　“她是你的老师，她完全有权罚你关禁闭。你明天下午五点钟开始到她办公室去，开始第一次。记住：在多洛雷斯乌姆里奇身边要千万留神。”　“可我说的是实话！”哈利愤愤不平地说，“伏地魔回来了，你知道的。邓布利多教授也知道他已经——　”

    “看在上天的分儿上，波特！”麦格教授生气地正了正眼镜，说道（刚才她听见哈利说出伏地魔的名字，脸部肌肉很厉害地抽搐了一下），“你真的以为问题在于说实话还是说谎话吗？问题在于你必须低着头做人，尽量不招惹麻烦，管好你自己的脾气！”

    她站了起来，鼻孔张得大大的，嘴唇抿得紧紧的，哈利也跟着站了起来。

    “再吃一块饼干吧。”她烦躁地说，把饼干盒推给了他。“不用了，谢谢。”哈利冷冷地回答。“别犯傻啦。”她厉声道。啥利拿了一块。“谢谢。”他满不情愿地说。

“多洛雷斯乌姆里奇在开学宴会上的讲话你没有听吗，波特？”“听了，”哈利说，“听了？？她说？？进步将被禁止？？嗯，这就说明？？说明魔法部企图干涉霍格沃茨。”麦格教授打量他片刻，然后从鼻子里哼了一声，绕过桌子，为他打开了房门。“好吧，不管怎么说，我很高兴你能听赫敏格兰杰的话。”她说，示意他离开　她的办公室。

Dentention Width Delores

Dinner in the Great Hall that night was not a pleasant experience for Harry. The news about his shouting match with Umbridge had travelled exceptionally fast even by Hogwarts’ standards. He heard whispers all around him as he sat eating between Ron and Hermione. The funny thing was that none of the whisperers seemed to mind him overhearing what they were saying about him. On the contrary, it was as though they were hoping he would get angry and start shouting again, so that they could hear his story first-hand.
‘He says he saw Cedric Diggory murdered ...’
‘He reckons he duelled with You-Know-Who ...’
‘Come off it ...’
‘Who does he think he's kidding?’
‘Pur-lease ...’
‘What I don't get,’ said Harry through clenched teeth, laying down his knife and fork (his hands were shaking too much to hold them steady), ‘is why they all believed the story two months ago when Dumbledore told them ...’
‘The thing is, Harry, I'm not sure they did,’ said Hermione grimly. ‘Oh, let's get out of here.’
She slammed down her own knife and fork; Ron looked longingly at his half-finished apple pie but followed suit. People stared at them all the way out of the Hall.
‘What d'you mean, you're not sure they believed Dumbledore?’ Harry asked Hermione when they reached the first-floor landing.
‘Look, you don't understand what it was like after it happened,’ said Hermione quietly. ‘You arrived back in the middle of the lawn clutching Cedric's dead body ... none of us saw what what happened in the maze ... we just had Dumbledore's word for it that You-Know-Who had come back and killed Cedric and fought you.’
‘Which is the truth!’ said Harry loudly.
‘I know it is, Harry, so will you please stop biting my head off?’ said Hermione wearily. ‘It's just that before the truth could sink in, everyone went home for the summer, where they spent two months reading about how you're a nutcase and Dumbledore's going senile!’
Rain pounded on the windowpanes as they strode along the empty corridors back to Gryffindor Tower. Harry felt as though his first day had lasted a week, but he still had a mountain of homework to do before bed. A dull pounding pain was developing over his right eye. He glanced out of a rain-washed window at the dark grounds as they turned into the Fat Lady's corridor. There was still no light in Hagrid's cabin.
‘Mimbulus mimbletonia,’ said Hermione, before the Fat Lady could ask. The portrait swung open to reveal the hole behind it and the three of them scrambled through it.
The common room was almost empty; nearly everyone was still down at dinner. Crookshanks uncoiled himself from an armchair and trotted to meet them, purring loudly, and when Harry, Ron and Hermione took their three favourite chairs at the fireside he leapt lightly on to Hermione's lap and curled up there like a furry ginger cushion. Harry gazed into the flames, feeling drained and exhausted.
‘How can Dumbledore have let this happen?’ Hermione cried suddenly, making Harry and Ron jump; Crookshanks leapt off her, looking affronted. She pounded the arms of her chair in fury, so that bits of stuffing leaked out of the holes. ‘How can he let that terrible woman teach us? And in our OWL year, too!’
‘Well, we've never had great Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers, have we?’ said Harry. ‘You know what it's like, Hagrid told us, nobody wants the job; they say it's jinxed.’
‘Yes, but to employ someone who's actually refusing to let us do magic! What's Dumbledore playing at?’
‘And she's trying to get people to spy for her,’ said Ron darkly.
‘Remember when she said she wanted us to come and tell her if we hear anyone saying You-Know-Who's back?’
‘Of course she's here to spy on us all, that's obvious, why else would Fudge have wanted her to come?’ snapped Hermione.
‘Don't start arguing again,’ said Harry wearily, as Ron opened his mouth to retaliate. ‘Can't we just... let's just do that homework, get it out of the way...’
They collected their schoolbags from a corner and returned to the chairs by the fire. People were coming back from dinner now. Harry kept his face averted from the portrait hole, but could still sense the stares he was attracting.
‘Shall we do Snape's stuff first?’ said Ron, dipping his quill into his ink. ‘"The properties... of moonstone... and its uses ... in potion-making...”’ he muttered, writing the words across the top of his parchment as he spoke them. ‘There.’ He underlined the title, then looked up expectantly at Hermione.
‘So, what are the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making?’
But Hermione was not listening; she was squinting over into the far corner of the room, where Fred, George and Lee Jordan were now sitting at the centre of a knot of innocent-looking first-years, all of whom were chewing something that seemed to have come out of a large paper bag that Fred was holding.
‘No, I'm sorry, they've gone too far,’ she said, standing up and looking positively furious. ‘Come on, Ron.’
‘I —what?’ said Ron, plainly playing for time. ‘No—come on, Hermione—we can't tell them off for giving out sweets.’
‘You know perfectly well that those are bits of Nosebleed Nougat or—or Puking Pastilles or—’
‘Fainting Fancies?’ Harry suggested quietly.
One by one, as though hit over the head with an invisible mallet, the first-years were slumping unconscious in their seats; some slid right on to the floor, others merely hung over the arms of their chairs, their tongues lolling out. Most of the people watching were laughing; Hermione, however, squared her shoulders and marched directly over to where Fred and George now stood with clipboards, closely observing the unconscious first-years. Ron rose halfway out of his chair, hovered uncertainly for a moment or two, then muttered to Harry, ‘She's got it under control,’ before sinking as low in his chair as his lanky frame permitted.
‘That's enough!’ Hermione said forcefully to Fred and George, both of whom looked up in mild surprise.
‘Yeah, you're right,’ said George, nodding, ‘this dosage looks strong enough, doesn't it?’
‘I told you this morning, you can't test your rubbish on students!’
‘We're paying them!’ said Fred indignantly.
‘I don't care, it could be dangerous!’
‘Rubbish,’ said Fred.
‘Calm down, Hermione, they're fine!’ said Lee reassuringly as he walked from first-year to first-year, inserting purple sweets into their open mouths.
‘Yeah, look, they're coming round now,’ said George.
A few of the first-years were indeed stirring. Several looked so shocked to find themselves lying on the floor, or dangling off their chairs, that Harry was sure Fred and George had not warned them what the sweets were going to do.
‘Feel all right?’ said George kindly to a small dark-haired girl lying at his feet.
‘I—I think so,’ she said shakily.
‘Excellent,’ said Fred happily, but the next second Hermione had snatched both his clipboard and the paper bag of Fainting Fancies from his hands.
‘It is NOT excellent!’
‘Course it is, they're alive, aren't they?’ said Fred angrily.
‘You can't do this, what if you made one of them really ill?’
‘We're not going to make them ill, we've already tested them all on ourselves, this is just to see if everyone reacts the same—’
‘If you don't stop doing it, I'm going to—’
‘Put us in detention?’ said Fred, in an I'd-like-to-see-you-try-it voice.
‘Make us write lines?’ said George, smirking.
Onlookers all over the room were laughing. Hermione drew herself up to her full height; her eyes were narrowed and her bushy hair seemed to crackle with electricity.
‘No,’ she said, her voice quivering with anger, ‘but I will write to your mother.’
‘You wouldn't,’ said George, horrified, taking a step back from her.
‘Oh, yes, I would,’ said Hermione grimly. ‘I can't stop you eating the stupid things yourselves, but you're not to give them to the first-years,’
Fred and George looked thunderstruck. It was clear that as far as they were concerned, Hermione's threat was way below the belt. With a last threatening look at them, she thrust Fred's clipboard and the bag of Fancies back into his arms, and stalked back to her chair by the fire.
Ron was now so low in his seat that his nose was roughly level with his knees.
‘Thank you for your support, Ron,’ Hermione said acidly.
‘You handled it fine by yourself,’ Ron mumbled.
Hermione stared down at her blank piece of parchment for a few seconds, then said edgily, ‘Oh, it's no good, I can't concentrate now. I'm going to bed.’
She wrenched her bag open; Harry thought she was about to put her books away, but instead she pulled out two misshapen woolly objects, placed them carefully on a table by the fireplace, covered them with a few screwed-up bits of parchment and a broken quill and stood back to admire the effect.
‘What in the name of Merlin are you doing?’ said Ron, watching her as though fearful for her sanity.
‘They're hats for house-elves,’ she said briskly now stuffing her books back into her bag. ‘I did them over the summer. I'm a really slow knitter without magic but now I'm back at school I should be able to make lots more.’
‘You're leaving out hats for the house-elves?’ said Ron slowly. ‘And you're covering them up with rubbish first?’
‘Yes,’ said Hermione defiantly, swinging her bag on to her back.
That's not on,’ said Ron angrily. ‘You're trying to trick them into picking up the hats. You're setting them free when they might not want to be free.’
‘Of course they want to be free!’ said Hermione at once, though her face was turning pink. ‘Don't you dare touch those hats, Ron!’
She turned on her heel and left. Ron waited until she had disappeared through the door to the girls’ dormitories, then cleared the rubbish off the woolly hats.
‘They should at least see what they're picking up,’ he said firmly. ‘Anyway ...’ he rolled up the parchment on which he had written the title of Snape's essay, ‘there's no point trying to finish this now, I can't do it without Hermione, I haven't got a clue what you're supposed to do with moonstones, have you?’
Harry shook his head, noticing as he did so that the ache in his right temple was getting worse. He thought of the long essay on giant wars and the pain stabbed at him sharply. Knowing perfectly well that when the morning came, he would regret not finishing his homework that night, he piled his books back into his bag.
‘I'm going to bed too.’
He passed Seamus on the way to the door leading to the dormitories, but did not look at him. Harry had a fleeting impression that Seamus had opened his mouth to speak, but he sped up and reached the soothing peace of the stone spiral staircase without having to endure any more provocation.
The following day dawned just as leaden and rainy as the previous one. Hagrid was still absent from the staff table at breakfast.
‘But on the plus side, no Snape today,’ said Ron bracingly.
Hermione yawned widely and poured herself some coffee. She looked mildly pleased about something, and when Ron asked her what she had to be so happy about, she simply said, ‘The hats have gone. Seems the house-elves do want freedom after all.’
‘I wouldn't bet on it,’ Ron told her cuttingly. ‘They might not count as clothes. They didn't look anything like hats to me, more like woolly bladders.’
Hermione did not speak to him all morning.
Double Charms was succeeded by double Transfiguration. Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall both spent the first fifteen minutes of their lessons lecturing the class on the importance of OWLs.
‘What you must remember,’ said little Professor Flitwick squeakily, perched as ever on a pile of books so that he could see over the top of his desk, ‘is that these examinations may influence your futures for many years to come! If you have not already given serious thought to your careers, now is the time to do so. And in the meantime, I'm afraid, we shall be working harder than ever to ensure that you all do yourselves justice!’
They then spent over an hour revising Summoning Charms, which according to Professor Flitwick were bound to come up in their OWL, and he rounded off the lesson by setting them their largest ever amount of Charms homework.
It was the same, if not worse, in Transfiguration.
‘You cannot pass an OWL,’ said Professor McGonagall grimly, ‘without serious application, practice and study. I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an OWL in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work.’ Neville made a sad little disbelieving noise. ‘Yes, you too, Longbottom,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘There's nothing wrong with your work except lack of confidence. So ... today we are starting Vanishing Spells. These are easier than Conjuring Spells, which you would not usually attempt until NEWT level, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your OWL.’
She was quite right; Harry found the Vanishing Spells horribly difficult. By the end of a double period, neither he nor Ron had managed to vanish the snails on which they were practising, though Ron said hopefully he thought his looked a bit paler. Hermione, on the other hand, successfully vanished her snail on the third attempt, earning her a ten-point bonus for Gryffindor from Professor McGonagall. She was the only person not given homework; everybody else was told to practise the spell overnight, ready for a fresh attempt on their snails the following afternoon.
Now panicking slightly about the amount of homework they had to do, Harry and Ron spent their lunch hour in the library looking up the uses of moonstones in potion-making. Still angry about Ron's slur on her woolly hats, Hermione did not join them. By the time they reached Care of Magical Creatures in the afternoon, Harry's head was aching again.
The day had become cool and breezy, and as they walked down the sloping lawn towards Hagrid's cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, they felt the occasional drop of rain on their faces. Professor Grubbly-Plank stood waiting for the class some ten yards from Hagrid's front door, a long trestle table in front of her laden with twigs. As Harry and Ron reached her, a loud shout of laughter sounded behind them; turning, they saw Draco Malfoy striding towards them, surrounded by his usual gang of Slytherin cronies. He had clearly just said something highly amusing, because Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson and the rest continued to snigger heartily as they gathered around the trestle table and, judging by the way they all kept looking over at Harry, he was able to guess the subject of the joke without too much difficulty.
‘Everyone here?’ barked Professor Grubbly-Plank, once all the Slytherins and Gryffindors had arrived. ‘Let's crack on then. Who can tell me what these things are called?’
She indicated the heap of twigs in front of her. Hermione's hand shot into the air. Behind her back, Malfoy did a buck-toothed imitation of her jumping up and down in eagerness to answer a question. Pansy Parkinson gave a shriek of laughter that turned almost at once into a scream, as the twigs on the table leapt into the air and revealed themselves to be what looked like tiny pixie-ish creatures made of wood, each with knobbly brown arms and legs, two twiglike fingers at the end of each hand and a funny flat, barklike face in which a pair of beetle-brown eyes glittered.
‘Oooooh!’ said Parvati and Lavender, thoroughly irritating Harry. Anyone would have thought Hagrid had never shown them impressive creatures; admittedly, the Flobberworms had been a bit dull, but the salamanders and hippogriffs had been interesting enough, and the Blast-Ended Skrewts perhaps too much so.
‘Kindly keep your voices down, girls!’ said Professor Grubbly-Plank sharply, scattering a handful of what looked like brown rice among the stick-creatures, who immediately fell upon the food. ‘So—anyone know the names of these creatures? Miss Granger?’
‘Bowtruckles,’ said Hermione. ‘They're tree-guardians, usually live in wand-trees.’
‘Five points for Gryffindor,’ said Professor Grubbly-Plank. ‘Yes, these are Bowtruckles, and as Miss Granger rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?’
‘Woodlice,’ said Hermione promptly, which explained why what Harry had taken to be grains of brown rice were moving. ‘But fairy eggs if they can get them.’
‘Good girl, take another five points. So, whenever you need leaves or wood from a tree in which a Bowtruckle lodges, it is wise to have a gift of woodlice ready to distract or placate it. They may not look dangerous, but if angered they will try to gouge at human eyes with their fingers, which, as you can see, are very sharp and not at all desirable near the eyeballs. So if you'd like to gather closer, take a few woodlice and a Bowtruckle—I have enough here for one between three—you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body-parts labelled by the end of the lesson.’
The class surged forwards around the trestle table. Harry deliberately circled around the back so that he ended up right next to Professor Grubbly-Plank.
‘Where's Hagrid?’ he asked her, while everyone else was choosing Bowtruckles.
‘Never you mind,’ said Professor Grubbly-Plank repressively, which had been her attitude last time Hagrid had failed to turn up for a class, too. Smirking all over his pointed face, Draco Malfoy leaned across Harry and seized the largest Bowtruckle.
‘Maybe,’ said Malfoy in an undertone, so that only Harry could hear him, ‘the stupid great oaf's got himself badly injured.’
‘Maybe you will if you don't shut up,’ said Harry out of the side of his mouth.
‘Maybe he's been messing with stuff that's too big for him, if you get my drift.’
Malfoy walked away, smirking over his shoulder at Harry, who felt suddenly sick. Did Malfoy know something? His father was a Death Eater after all; what if he had information about Hagrid's fate that had not yet reached the ears of the Order? He hurried back around the table to Ron and Hermione who were squatting on the grass some distance away and attempting to persuade a Bowtruckle to remain still long enough for them to draw it. Harry pulled out parchment and quill, crouched down beside the others and related in a whisper what Malfoy had just said.
‘Dumbledore would know if something had happened to Hagrid,’ said Hermione at once. ‘It's just playing into Malfoy's hands to look worried; it tells him we don't know exactly what's going on. We've got to ignore him, Harry. Here, hold the Bowtruckle for a moment, just so I can draw its face ...’
‘Yes,’ came Malfoy's clear drawl from the group nearest them, ‘Father was talking to the Minister just a couple of days ago, you know, and it sounds as though the Ministry's really determined to crack down on sub-standard teaching in this place. So even if that overgrown moron does show up again, he'll probably be sent packing straightaway.’
‘OUCH!’
Harry had gripped the Bowtruckle so hard that it had almost snapped, and it had just taken a great retaliatory swipe at his hand with its sharp fingers, leaving two long deep cuts there. Harry dropped it. Crabbe and Goyle, who had already been guffawing at the idea of Hagrid being sacked, laughed still harder as the Bowtruckle set off at full tilt towards the Forest, a little moving stick-man soon swallowed up among the tree roots. When the bell echoed distantly over the grounds, Harry rolled up his blood-stained Bowtruckle picture and marched off to Herbology with his hand wrapped in Hermione's handkerchief, and Malfoy's derisive laughter still ringing in his ears.
‘If he calls Hagrid a moron one more time ...’ said Harry through gritted teeth.
‘Harry, don't go picking a row with Malfoy, don't forget, he's a prefect now, he could make life difficult for you ...’
‘Wow, I wonder what it'd be like to have a difficult life?’ said Harry sarcastically. Ron laughed, but Hermione frowned. Together, they traipsed across the vegetable patch. The sky still appeared unable to make up its mind whether it wanted to rain or not.
‘I just wish Hagrid would hurry up and get back, that's all,’ said Harry in a low voice, as they reached the greenhouses. ‘And don't say that Grubbly-Plank woman's a better teacher!’ he added threateningly.
‘I wasn't going to,’ said Hermione calmly.
‘Because she'll never be as good as Hagrid,’ said Harry firmly, fully aware that he had just experienced an exemplary Care of Magical Creatures lesson and was thoroughly annoyed about it.
The door of the nearest greenhouse opened and some fourth-years spilled out of it, including Ginny.
‘Hi,’ she said brightly as she passed. A few seconds later, Luna Lovegood emerged, trailing behind the rest of the class, a smudge of earth on her nose, and her hair tied in a knot on the top of her head. When she saw Harry, her prominent eyes seemed to bulge excitedly and she made a beeline straight for him. Many of his classmates turned curiously to watch. Luna took a great breath and then said, without so much as a preliminary hello, ‘I believe He Who Must Not Be Named is back and I believe you fought him and escaped from him.’
‘Er—right,’ said Harry awkwardly. Luna was wearing what looked like a pair of orange radishes for earrings, a fact that Parvati and Lavender seemed to have noticed, as they were both giggling and pointing at her earlobes.
‘You can laugh,’ Luna said, her voice rising, apparently under the impression that Parvati and Lavender were laughing at what she had said rather than what she was wearing, ‘but people used to believe there were no such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!’
‘Well, they were right, weren't they?’ said Hermione impatiently. There weren't any such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.’
Luna gave her a withering look and flounced away, radishes swinging madly. Parvati and Lavender were not the only ones hooting with laughter now.
‘D'you mind not offending the only people who believe me?’ Harry asked Hermione as they made their way into class.
‘Oh, for heaven's sake, Harry, you can do better than her,’ said Hermione. ‘Ginny's told me all about her; apparently, she'll only believe in things as long as there's no proof at all. Well, I wouldn't expect anything else from someone whose father runs The Quibbler.’
Harry thought of the sinister winged horses he had seen on the night he had arrived and how Luna had said she could see them too. His spirits sank slightly. Had she been lying? But before he could devote much more thought to the matter, Ernie Macmillan had stepped up to him.
‘I want you to know, Potter,’ he said in a loud, carrying voice, ‘that it's not only weirdos who support you. I personally believe you one hundred per cent. My family have always stood firm behind Dumbledore, and so do I.’
‘Er—thanks very much, Ernie,’ said Harry, taken aback but pleased. Ernie might be pompous on occasions like this, but Harry was in a mood to deeply appreciate a vote of confidence from somebody who did not have radishes dangling from their ears. Ernie's words had certainly wiped the smile from Lavender Browns face and as he turned to talk to Ron and Hermione, Harry caught Seamus's expression, which looked both confused and defiant.
To nobody's surprise, Professor Sprout started their lesson by lecturing them about the importance of OWLs. Harry wished all the teachers would stop doing this; he was starting to get an anxious, twisted feeling in his stomach every time he remembered how much homework he had to do, a feeling that worsened dramatically when Professor Sprout gave them yet another essay at the end of class. Tired and smelling strongly of dragon dung, Professor Sprouts preferred type of fertiliser, the Gryffindors trooped back up to the castle an hour and a half later, none of them talking very much; it had been another long day.
As Harry was starving, and he had his first detention with Umbridge at five o'clock, he headed straight for dinner without dropping off his bag in Gryffindor Tower so that he could bolt something down before facing whatever she had in store for him. He had barely reached the entrance of the Great Hall, however, when a loud and angry voice yelled, ‘Oi, Potter!’
‘What now?’ he muttered wearily, turning to face Angelina Johnson, who looked as though she was in a towering temper.
‘I'll tell you what now,’ she said, marching straight up to him and poking him hard in the chest with her finger. ‘How come you've landed yourself in detention for five o'clock on Friday?’
‘What?’ said Harry. ‘Why ... oh yeah, Keeper tryouts!’
‘Now he remembers!’ snarled Angelina. ‘Didn't I tell you I wanted to do a tryout with the whole team, and find someone who fitted in with everyone?Didn't I tell you I'd booked the Quidditch pitch specially? And now you've decided you're not going to be there!’
‘I didn't decide not to be there!’ said Harry, stung by the injustice of these words. ‘I got detention from that Umbridge woman, just because I told her the truth about You-Know-Who.’
‘Well, you can just go straight to her and ask her to let you off en Friday,’ said Angelina fiercely, ‘and I don't care how you do it. Tell her You-Know-Who's a figment of your imagination if you like, just make sure you're there!’
She turned on her heel and stormed away.
‘You know what.?’ Harry said to Ron and Hermione as they entered the Great Hall. ‘I think we'd better check with Puddlemere United whether Oliver Wood's been killed during a training session, because Angelina seems to be channelling his spirit.’
‘What d'you reckon are the odds of Umbridge letting you off on Friday?’ said Ron sceptically, as they sat down at the Gryffindor table.
‘Less than zero,’ said Harry glumly, tipping lamb chops on to his plate and starting to eat. ‘Better try, though, hadn't I? I'll offer to do two more detentions or something, I dunno ...’ He swallowed a mouthful of potato and added, ‘I hope she doesn't keep me too long this evening. You realise we've got to write three essays, practise Vanishing Spells for McGonagall, work out a counter-charm for Flitwick, finish the Bowtruckle drawing and start that stupid dream diary for Trelawney?’
Ron moaned and for some reason glanced up at the ceiling.
‘And it looks like it's going to rain.’
‘What's that got to do with our homework?’ said Hermione, her eyebrows raised.
‘Nothing,’ said Ron at once, his ears reddening.
At five to five Harry bade the other two goodbye and set off for Umbridge's office on the third floor. When he knocked on the door she called, ‘Come in,’ in a sugary voice. He entered cautiously, looking around.
He had known this office under three of its previous occupants.
In the days when Gilderoy Lockhart had lived here it had been plastered in beaming portraits of himself. When Lupin had occupied it, it was likely you would meet some fascinating Dark creature in a cage or tank if you came to call. In the impostor Moody's days it had been packed with various instruments and artefacts for the detection of wrongdoing and concealment.
Now, however, it looked totally unrecognisable. The surfaces had all been draped in lacy covers and cloths. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each one residing on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large technicolour kitten wearing a different bow around its neck. These were so foul that Harry stared at them, transfixed, until Professor Umbridge spoke again.
‘Good evening, Mr Potter.’
Harry started and looked around. He had not noticed her at first because she was wearing a luridly flowered set of robes that blended only too well with the tablecloth on the desk behind her.
‘Evening, Professor Umbridge,’ Harry said stiffly.
‘Well, sit down,’ she said, pointing towards a small table draped in lace beside which she had drawn up a straight-backed chair. A piece of blank parchment lay on the table, apparently waiting for him.
‘Er,’ said Harry, without moving. ‘Professor Umbridge. Er—before we start, I—I wanted to ask you a ... a favour.’
Her bulging eyes narrowed.
‘Oh, yes?’
‘Well, I'm ... I'm in the Gryffindor Quidditch team. And I was supposed to be at the tryouts for the new Keeper at five o'clock on Friday and I was—was wondering whether I could skip detention that night and do it—do it another night ... instead ...’
He knew long before he reached the end of his sentence that it was no good.
‘Oh, no,’ said Umbridge, smiling so widely that she looked as though she had just swallowed a particularly juicy fly. ‘Oh, no, no, no. This is your punishment for spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories, Mr. Potter, and punishments certainly cannot be adjusted to suit the guilty one's convenience. No, you will come here at five o'clock tomorrow, and the next day, and on Friday too, and you will do your detentions as planned. I think it rather a good thing that you are missing something you really want to do. It ought to reinforce the lesson I am trying to teach you.’
Harry felt the blood surge to his head and heard a thumping noise in his ears. So he told ‘evil, nasty, attention-seeking stones', did he?
She was watching him with her head slightly to one side, still smiling widely, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking and was waiting to see whether he would start shouting again. With a massive effort, Harry looked away from her, dropped his schoolbag beside the straight-backed chair and sat down.
‘There,’ said Umbridge sweetly, ‘we're getting better at controlling our temper already, aren't we? Now, you are going to be doing some lines for me, Mr Potter. No, not with your quill,’ she added, as Harry bent down to open his bag. ‘You're going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here you are.’
She handed him a long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point.
‘I want you to write, I must not tell lies,’ she told him softly.
‘How many times?’ Harry asked, with a creditable imitation of politeness.
‘Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in,’ said Umbridge sweetly. ‘Off you go.’
She moved over to her desk, sat down and bent over a stack of parchment that looked like essays for marking. Harry raised the sharp black quill, then realised what was missing.
‘You haven't given me any ink,’ he said.
‘Oh, you won't need ink,’ said Professor Umbridge, with the merest suggestion of a laugh in her voice.
Harry placed the point of the quill on the paper and wrote: I must not tell lies.
He let out a gasp of pain. The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of Harry's right hand, cut into his skin as though traced there by a scalpel - yet even as he stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth.
Harry looked round at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile.
‘Yes?’
‘Nothing,’ said Harry quietly.
He looked back at the parchment, placed the quill on it once more, wrote I must not tell lies, and felt the searing pain on the back of his hand for a second time; once again, the words had been cut into his skin; once again, they healed over seconds later.
And on it went. Again and again Harry wrote the words on the parchment in what he soon came to realise was not ink, but his own blood. And, again and again, the words were cut into the back of his hand, healed, and reappeared the next time he set quill to parchment.
Darkness fell outside Umbridge's window. Harry did not ask when he would be allowed to stop. He did not even check his watch. He knew she was watching him for signs of weakness and he was not going to show any, not even if he had to sit there all night, cutting open his own hand with this quill ...
‘Come here,’ she said, after what seemed hours.
He stood up. His hand was stinging painfully. When he looked down at it he saw that the cut had healed, but that the skin there was red raw.
‘Hand,’ she said.
He extended it. She took it in her own. Harry repressed a shudder as she touched him with her thick, stubby fingers on which she wore a number of ugly old rings.
‘Tut, tut, I don't seem to have made much of an impression yet,’ she said, smiling. ‘Well, we'll just have to try again tomorrow evening, won't we? You may go.’
Harry left her office without a word. The school was quite deserted; it was surely past midnight. He walked slowly up the corridor, then, when he had turned the corner and was sure she would not hear him, broke into a run.
He had not had time to practise Vanishing Spells, had not written a single dream in his dream diary and had not finished the drawing of the Bowtruckle, nor had he written his essays. He skipped breakfast next morning to scribble down a couple of made-up dreams for Divination, their first lesson, and was surprised to find a dishevelled Ron keeping him company.
‘How come you didn't do it last night?’ Harry asked, as Ron stared wildly around the common room for inspiration. Ron, who had been fast asleep when Harry got back to the dormitory, muttered something about ‘doing other stuff, bent low over his parchment and scrawled a few words.
‘That'll have to do,’ he said, slamming the diary shut. ‘I've said I dreamed I was buying a new pair of shoes, she can't make anything weird out of that, can she?’
They hurried off to North Tower together.
‘How was detention with Umbridge, anyway? What did she make you do?’
Harry hesitated for a fraction of a second, then said, ‘Lines.’
‘That's not too bad, then, eh?’ said Ron.
‘Nope,’ said Harry.
‘Hey—I forgot— did she let you off for Friday?’
‘No,’ said Harry.
Ron groaned sympathetically.
It was another bad day for Harry; he was one of the worst in Transfiguration, not having practised Vanishing Spells at all. He had to give up his lunch hour to complete the picture of the Bowtruckle and, meanwhile, Professors McGonagall, Grubbly-Plank and Sinistra gave them yet more homework, which he had no prospect of finishing that evening because of his second detention with Umbridge. To cap it all, Angelina Johnson tracked him down at dinner again and, on learning that he would not be able to attend Friday's Keeper tryouts, told him she was not at all impressed by his attitude and that she expected players who wished to remain on the team to put training before their other commitments.
‘I'm in detention!’ Harry yelled after her as she stalked away. ‘D'you think I'd rather be stuck in a room with that old toad or playing Quidditch?’
‘At least it's only lines,’ said Hermione consolingly, as Harry sank back on to his bench and looked down at his steak and kidney pie, which he no longer fancied very much. ‘It's not as it it's a dreadful punishment, really ...’
Harry opened his mouth, closed it again and nodded. He was not really sure why he was not telling Ron and Hermione exactly what was happening in Umbridge's room: he only knew that he did not want to see their looks of horror; that would make the whole thing seem worse and therefore more difficult to face. He also felt dimly that this was between himself and Umbridge, a private battle of wills, and he was not going to give her the satisfaction of hearing that he had complained about it.
‘I can't believe how much homework we've got,’ said Ron miserably.
‘Well, why didn't you do any last night?’ Hermione asked him. ‘Where were you, anyway?’
‘I was ... I fancied a walk,’ said Ron shiftily.
Harry had the distinct impression that he was not alone in concealing things at the moment.
The second detention was just as bad as the previous one. The skin on the back of Harry's hand became irritated more quickly now and was soon red and inflamed. Harry thought it unlikely that it would keep healing as effectively for long. Soon the cut would remain etched into his hand and Umbridge would, perhaps, be satisfied. He let no gasp of pain escape him, however, and from the moment of entering the room to the moment of his dismissal, again past midnight, he said nothing but ‘good evening’ and ‘goodnight'.
His homework situation, however, was now desperate, and when he returned to the Gryffindor common room he did not, though exhausted, go to bed, but opened his books and began Snape's moonstone essay. It was half past two by the time he had finished it. He knew he had done a poor job, but there was no help for it; unless he had something to give in he would be in detention with Snape next. He then dashed off answers to the questions Professor McGonagall had set them, cobbled together something on the proper handling of Bowtruckles for Professor Grubbly-Plank, and staggered up to bed, where he fell fully clothed on top of the covers and fell asleep immediately.
Thursday passed in a haze of tiredness. Ron seemed very sleepy too, though Harry could not see why he should be. Harry's third detention passed in the same way as the previous two, except that after two hours the words ‘I must not tell lies’ did not fade from the back of Harry's hand, but remained scratched there, oozing droplets of blood. The pause in the pointed quills scratching made Professor Umbridge look up.
‘Ah,’ she said softly, moving around her desk to examine his hand herself. ‘Good. That ought to serve as a reminder to you, oughtn't it? You may leave for tonight.’
‘Do I still have to come back tomorrow?’ said Harry, picking up his schoolbag with his left hand rather than his smarting right one.
‘Oh yes,’ said Professor Umbridge, smiling as widely as before. ‘Yes, I think we can etch the message a little deeper with another evenings work.’
Harry had never before considered the possibility that there might be another teacher in the world he hated more than Snape, but as he walked back towards Gryffindor Tower he had to admit he had found a strong contender. She's evil, he thought, as he climbed a staircase to the seventh floor, she's an evil, twisted, mad old-
‘Ron?’
He had reached the top of the stairs, turned right and almost walked into Ron, who was lurking behind a statue of Lachlan the Lanky, clutching his broomstick. He gave a great leap of surprise when he saw Harry and attempted to hide his new Cleansweep Eleven behind his back.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Er—nothing. What are you doing?’
Harry frowned at him.
‘Come on, you can tell me! What are you hiding here for?’
‘I'm—I'm hiding from Fred and George, if you must know,’ said Ron. ‘They just went past with a bunch of first-years, I bet they're testing stuff on them again, I mean, they can't do it in the common room now, can they, not with Hermione there.’
He was talking in a very fast, feverish way.
‘But what have you got your broom for, you haven't been flying, have you?’ Harry asked.
‘I—well—well, OK, I'll tell you, but don't laugh, all right?’ Ron said defensively, turning redder with every second. ‘I—I thought I'd try out for Gryffindor Keeper now I've got a decent broom. There. Go on. Laugh.’
‘I'm not laughing,’ said Harry. Ron blinked. ‘It's a brilliant idea! It'd be really cool if you got on the team! I've never seen you play Keeper, are you good?’
‘I'm not bad,’ said Ron, who looked immensely relieved at Harry's reaction. ‘Charlie, Fred and George always made me keep for them when they were training during the holidays.’
‘So you've been practising tonight?’
‘Every evening since Tuesday ... just on my own, though. I've been trying to bewitch Quaffles to fly at me, but it hasn't been easy and I don't know how much use it'll be.’ Ron looked nervous and anxious. ‘Fred and George are going to laugh themselves stupid when I turn up for the tryouts. They haven't stopped taking the mickey out of me since I got made a prefect.’
‘I wish I was going to be there,’ said Harry bitterly, as they set off together towards the common room.
‘Yeah, so do— Harry, what's that on the back of your hand?’
Harry, who had just scratched his nose with his free right hand, tried to hide it, but had as much success as Ron with his Cleansweep.
‘It's just a cut —it's nothing—it's—’
But Ron had grabbed Harry's forearm and pulled the back of Harry's hand up level with his eyes. There was a pause, during which he stared at the words carved into the skin, then, looking sick, he released Harry.
‘I thought you said she was just giving you lines?’
Harry hesitated, but after all, Ron had been honest with him, so he told Ron the truth about the hours he had been spending in Umbridge's office.
‘The old hag!’ Ron said in a revolted whisper as they came to a halt in front of the Fat Lady, who was dozing peacefully with her head against her frame. ‘She's sick! Go to McGonagall, say something!’
‘No,’ said Harry at once. ‘I'm not giving her the satisfaction of knowing she's got to me.’
‘Got to you?You can't let her get away with this!’
‘I don't know how much power McGonagall's got over her,’ said Harry.
‘Dumbledore, then, tell Dumbledore!’
‘No,’ said Harry flatly.
‘Why not?’
‘He's got enough on his mind,’ said Harry, but that was not the true reason. He was not going to go to Dumbledore for help when Dumbledore had not spoken to him once since June.
‘Well, I reckon you should—’ Ron began, but he was interrupted by the Fat Lady, who had been watching them sleepily and now burst out, ‘Are you going to give me the password or will I have to stay awake all night waiting for you to finish your conversation?’
Friday dawned sullen and sodden as the rest of the week. Though Harry automatically glanced towards the staff table when he entered the Great Hall, it was without any real hope of seeing Hagrid, and he turned his mind immediately to his more pressing problems, such as the mountainous pile of homework he had to do and the prospect of yet another detention with Umbridge.
Two things sustained Harry that day. One was the thought that it was almost the weekend; the other was that, dreadful though his final detention with Umbridge was sure to be, he had a distant view of the Quidditch pitch from her window and might, with luck, be able to see something of Ron's tryout. These were rather feeble rays of light, it was true, but Harry was grateful for anything that might lighten his present darkness; he had never had a worse first week of term at Hogwarts.
At five o'clock that evening he knocked on Professor Umbridge's office door for what he sincerely hoped would be the final time, and was told to enter. The blank parchment lay ready for him on the lace-covered table, the pointed black quill beside it.
‘You know what to do, Mr. Potter,’ said Umbridge, smiling sweetly at him.
Harry picked up the quill and glanced through the window. If he just shifted his chair an inch or so to the right ... on the pretext of shifting himself closer to the table, he managed it. He now had a distant view of the Gryffindor Quidditch team soaring up and down the pitch, while half a dozen black figures stood at the foot of the three high goalposts, apparently awaiting their turn to Keep. It was impossible to tell which one was Ron at this distance.
I must not tell lies,Harry wrote. The cut in the back of his right hand opened and began to bleed afresh.
I must not tell lies.The cut dug deeper, stinging and smarting.
I must not tell lies.Blood trickled down his wrist.
He chanced another glance out of the window. Whoever was defending the goalposts now was doing a very poor job indeed. Katie Bell scored twice in the few seconds Harry dared to watch. Hoping very much that the Keeper wasn't Ron, he dropped his eyes back to the parchment shining with blood.
I must not tell lies.
I must not tell lies.
He looked up whenever he thought he could risk it; when he could hear the scratching of Umbridge's quill or the opening of a desk drawer. The third person to try out was pretty good, the fourth was terrible, the fifth dodged a Bludger exceptionally well but then fumbled an easy save. The sky was darkening, and Harry doubted he would be able to see the sixth and seventh people at all.
I must not tell lies.
I must not tell lies.
The parchment was now dotted with drops of blood from the back of his hand, which was searing with pain. When he next looked up, night had fallen and the Quidditch pitch was no longer visible.
‘Let's see if you've got the message yet, shall we?’ said Umbridge's soft voice half an hour later.
She moved towards him, stretching out her short ringed fingers for his arm. And then, as she took hold of him to examine the words now cut into his skin, pain seared, not across the back of his hand, but across the scar on his forehead. At the same time, he had a most peculiar sensation somewhere around his midriff.
He wrenched his arm out of her grip and leapt to his feet, staring at her. She looked back at him, a smile stretching her wide, slack mouth.
‘Yes, it hurts, doesn't it?’ she said softly.
He did not answer. His heart was thumping very hard and fast. Was she talking about his hand or did she know what he had just felt in his forehead?
‘Well, I think I've made my point, Mr. Potter. You may go.’
He caught up his schoolbag and left the room as quickly as he could.
Stay calm, he told himself, as he sprinted up the stairs. Stay calm, it doesn't necessarily mean what you think it means ...
‘Mimbulus mimbletonia!’ he gasped at the Fat Lady, who swung forwards once more.
A roar of sound greeted him. Ron came running towards him, beaming all over his face and slopping Butterbeer down his front from the goblet he was clutching.
‘Harry, I did it, I'm in, I'm Keeper!’
‘What? Oh— brilliant!’ said Harry, trying to smile naturally, while his heart continued to race and his hand throbbed and bled.
‘Have a Butterbeer.’ Ron pressed a bottle on him. ‘I can't believe it—where's Hermione gone?’
‘She's there,’ said Fred, who was also swigging Butterbeer, and pointed to an armchair by the fire. Hermione was dozing in it, her drink tipping precariously in her hand.
‘Well, she said she was pleased when I told her,’ said Ron, looking slightly put out.
‘Let her sleep,’ said George hastily. It was a few moments before Harry noticed that several of the first-years gathered around them bore unmistakeable signs of recent nosebleeds.
Come here, Ron, and see if Oliver's old robes fit you,’ called Kade Bell, ‘we can take off his name and put yours on instead ...’
As Ron moved away, Angelina came striding up to Harry.
‘Sorry I was a bit short with you earlier, Potter,’ she said abruptly. ‘It's stressful this managing lark, you know, I'm starting to think I was a bit hard on Wood sometimes.’ She was watching Ron over the rim of her goblet with a slight frown on her face.
‘Look, I know he's your best mate, but he's not fabulous,’ she said bluntly. ‘I think with a bit of training he'll be all right, though. He comes from a family of good Quidditch players. I'm banking on him turning out to have a bit more talent than he showed today, to be honest. Vicky Frobisher and Geoffrey Hooper both flew better this evening, but Hooper's a real whiner, he's always moaning about something or other, and Vicky's involved in all sorts of societies. She admitted herself that if training clashed with her Charms Club she'd put Charms first. Anyway, we're having a practice session at two o'clock tomorrow, so just make sure you're there this time. And do me a favour and help Ron as much as you can, OK?’
He nodded, and Angelina strolled back to Alicia Spinnet. Harry moved over to sit next to Hermione, who awoke with a jerk as he put down his bag.
‘Oh, Harry, it's you ... good about Ron, isn't it?’ she said blearily. ‘I'm just so—so—so tired,’ she yawned. ‘I was up until one o'clock making more hats. They're disappearing like mad!’
And sure enough, now that he looked, Harry saw that there were woolly hats concealed all around the room where unwary elves might accidentally pick them up.
‘Great,’ said Harry distractedly; if he did not tell somebody soon, he would burst. ‘Listen, Hermione, I was just up in Umbridge's office and she touched my arm ...’
Hermione listened closely. When Harry had finished, she said slowly, ‘You're worried You-Know-Who's controlling her like he controlled Quirrell?’
‘Well,’ said Harry, dropping his voice, ‘it's a possibility, isn't it?’
‘I suppose so,’ said Hermione, though she sounded unconvinced. ‘But I don't think he can be possessing her the way he possessed Quirrell, I mean, he's properly alive again now, isn't he, he's got his own body, he wouldn't need to share someone else's. He could have her under the Imperius Curse, I suppose ...’
Harry watched Fred, George and Lee Jordan juggling empty Butterbeer bottles for a moment. Then Hermione said, ‘But last year your scar hurt when nobody was touching you, and didn't Dumbledore say it had to do with what You-Know-Who was feeling at the time? I mean, maybe this hasn't got anything to do with Umbridge at all, maybe it's just coincidence it happened while you were with her?’
‘She's evil,’ said Harry flatly. ‘Twisted.’
‘She's horrible, yes, but ... Harry, I think you ought to tell Dumbledore your scar hurt.’
It was the second time in two days he had been advised to go to Dumbledore and his answer to Hermione was just the same as his answer to Ron.
‘I'm not bothering him with this. Like you just said, it's not a big deal. It's been hurting on and off all summer—it was just a bit worse tonight, that's all—’
‘Harry, I'm sure Dumbledore would want to be bothered by this—’
‘Yeah,’ said Harry, before he could stop himself, ‘that's the only bit of me Dumbledore cares about, isn't it, my scar?’
‘Don't say that, it's not true!’
‘I think I'll write and tell Sirius about it, see what he thinks—’
‘Harry, you can't put something like that in a letter!’ said Hermione, looking alarmed. ‘Don't you remember, Moody told us to be careful what we put in writing! We just can't guarantee owls aren't being intercepted any more!’
‘All right, all right, I won't tell him, then!’ said Harry irritably. He got to his feet. ‘I'm going to bed. Tell Ron for me, will you?’
‘Oh no,’ said Hermione, looking relieved, ‘if you're going that means I can go too, without being rude. I'm absolutely exhausted and I want to make some more hats tomorrow. Listen, you can help me if you like, it's quite fun, I'm getting better, I can do patterns and bobbles and all sorts of things now.’
Harry looked into her face, which was shining with glee, and tried to look as though he was vaguely tempted by this offer.
‘Er ... no, I don't think I will, thanks,’ he said. ‘Er—not tomorrow. I've got loads of homework to do ...’
And he traipsed off to the boys’ stairs, leaving her looking slightly disappointed.

被多洛雷斯关禁闭

    对哈利来说，那天晚上在礼堂吃晚饭可不是一次愉快的经历。他同乌姆里奇大吵大嚷的消息不胫而走，即使按霍格沃茨的标准衡量，这样的传播速度也是快得出奇。当他坐在罗恩和赫敏中间开始吃饭时。他看见周围一片窃窃私语。有趣的是，那些交头接耳的人似乎谁也不在乎他会不会听见他们的议论。恰恰相反，他们好像巴不得他动怒，再次嚷嚷起来，这样他们就能亲耳听到他是怎么说的了。

    “他说他看见塞德里克迪戈里被杀害？？”

    “他以为自己跟神秘人决斗来着？？”

    “快别胡扯了？？”

    “他以为自己在蒙谁呢？”

    “饶了我吧？？”

    “我不明白的是，”哈利放下手里的餐具咬着牙说（他的手抖得太厉害，刀叉都拿不稳了），“两个月前邓布利多告诉他们这件事时，他们怎么就都相信了呢？？”

    “问题是，哈利，我不敢肯定他们是不是相信了。”赫敏神色严峻地说，“哦，我们快离开这儿吧。”

    她重重地放下自己的刀叉，罗恩恋恋不舍地看了看刚吃了一半的苹果馅饼，但还是跟着他们走了。人们一直盯着他们走出了礼堂。

    “你是什么意思，你不敢肯定他们是不是相信邓布利多？”他们来到二楼的楼梯平台时，哈利问赫敏。

    “唉，其实你并不明白事情发生以后是什么情况，”赫敏轻声说，“你从草地中央回来了，怀里抱着塞德里克的尸体？？我们谁都没有看见迷宫里发生的一切？？我们只是听邓布利多说神秘人回来了，杀死了塞德里克，还跟你展开了搏斗。”

    “那是事实！”哈利大声说。

    “我知道是事实，哈利，你能不能不要这样冲我大声嚷嚷？”赫敏不耐烦地说，“实际上，没等大家完全理解这个事实，他们就都回家过暑假了。整整两个月的时间，他们读到的都是你是个疯子，邓布利多是个老糊涂！”

    他们大步走在空荡荡的走廊上，返回格兰芬多的塔楼。雨水啪啪地敲打着窗户玻璃。哈利觉得这开学的第一天好像持续了一个星期，而他睡觉前还要完成那么一大堆家庭作业。他的右眼皮开始一跳一跳地疼。当他们拐进胖夫人的那条走廊时，他透过一扇被雨水冲刷过的窗户望着外面黑黢黢的场地。海格的小屋里仍然没有灯光。

    “米布米宝。”赫敏不等胖夫人开口发问就说道。肖像弹开，露出后面的洞口，他们三个爬了进去。

    公共休息室里几乎空无一人，差不多所有的同学都还在下面吃晚饭呢。克鲁克山在一张扶手椅里展开身体，小跑着过来迎接他们，发出很响的呼噜呼噜的喘息声。哈利、罗恩和赫敏在炉火旁他们最喜欢的三把椅子里坐定后，它轻盈地跳到赫敏的膝头，把身体蜷成一个毛茸茸的姜黄色坐垫。哈利望着火苗出神，感到极度疲倦，所有的精力都耗光了。

    “邓布利多怎么能让这种事情发生呢？”赫敏突然嚷了起来，把哈利和罗恩吓了一跳。克鲁克山从她身上跳开，一副受了冒犯的样子。赫敏气愤地敲打着椅子的扶手，里面填塞的东西都从破洞里漏了出来。“他怎么能让那个可怕的女人教我们要呢？而且还在我们参加0.w.Ls考试的这一年！”

    “唉，我们的黑魔法防御术课从来就没有过像样的老师，是不是？”哈利说，“你知道是怎么回事，海格告诉过我们，谁也不愿意接这个活儿，他们说这份工作中了恶咒。”

    -176　？“这倒是，可是居然聘请了一位根本不让我们施魔法的人！邓布利多在玩什么把戏？”

    “那女人还想让别人给她当密探。”罗恩郁闷地说，“记得吗，她说如果我们听见有谁说神秘人回来了，她希望我们去向她汇报。”

    “她来这儿当然就是为了刺探我们大家的，这还用说吗，不然福吉要她来做什么？”赫敏怒声说道。

    “别再吵架了，”罗恩正想张嘴反驳，哈利不耐烦地说，“我们能不能？？能不能现在就做家庭作业，早做完早省心？？”

    他们从墙角拿来书包，回到炉火旁的椅子上。这时候同学们陆续吃完饭回来了。哈利侧着脸，尽量不去看肖像洞口，但仍然能感觉到大家都在盯着他看。

    “我们先写斯内普的那篇吧？”罗恩说着给他的羽毛笔蘸了蘸墨水，“月长石的？？特性？？以及它在？？制药方面的？？用途？？”他低声嘟哝着，边说边把这些字写在羊皮纸的最上面。“好了。”他在标题下面画了道横线，抬头满怀期待地望着赫敏。

    “那么，月长石的特性以及它在制药方面的用途是什么呢？”

    可是赫敏根本没听，她正眯起眼睛看着房间那头的角落，只见弗雷德、乔治和李乔丹正坐在一群看上去天真幼稚的一年级新生中间，每个新生嘴里都在嚼着什么东西，看样子是从弗雷德手里提的那个大纸口袋里拿出来的。

    “不行，对不起，他们实在太过分了。”赫敏说着腾地站起身，一副怒不可遏的样子，“来，罗恩。”

    “我——　干吗？”罗恩说，显然是在拖延时间，“不——　算啦，赫敏——　我们总不能干涉他们发糖给别人吃吧。”

    “你心里很清楚，那些是鼻血牛扎糖，要么——　要么是吐吐糖，要么——　”

    “昏迷花糖？”哈利小声提醒道。

    那些一年级新生就像被一把无形的大锤砸了一下脑袋，一个个在座位上昏了过去。有的扑通滑到了地上，有的只是瘫倒在椅子的扶手上，舌头伸得老长。在一旁观看的人多数都哈哈大笑起来，赫敏则挺起胸膛，大步流星地直冲弗雷德和乔治走去，这会儿他们正拿着带弹簧夹的写字板站在那里，仔细观察那些神志不清的一年级新生。罗恩的身体从椅子上抬起一半，迟疑地悬在那儿片刻，然后低声对哈利说：“她已经控制住了。”接着他把他那瘦长的身体尽量压得低低的，缩在椅子里。

    “够了！”赫敏威严地对弗雷德和乔治说，他们俩都微微吃惊地抬起头来。

    “是啊，你说得对，”乔治点点头说，“这个剂量看来是够劲儿了，是不是？”

    “今天早晨我已经对你们说过了，不许在同学身上试验你们的这堆垃圾！”

    “我们付钱给他们了！”弗雷德气愤地说。

    -177　？“我不管，这可能很危险！”“胡扯。”弗雷德说。“冷静点儿，赫敏，不会有事儿的！”李乔丹宽慰她说，一边在那些一年级新生中间走来走去，把紫色的糖果塞进他们张开的嘴巴里。“是啊，你看，他们现在都醒过来了。”乔治说。

    有几个新生确实开始动弹了。看到自己躺在地板上或瘫软在椅子上，显得非常震惊，因此哈利可以肯定，弗雷德和乔治事先并没有告诉他们这些糖是做什么用的。

    “感觉还好吧？”乔治亲切地问躺在他脚下的一个黑头发的小个子女生。“我——　我想是吧。”女生颤抖着说。“太棒了。”弗雷德高兴地说，可是紧接着赫敏就把他的写字板和那一纸袋昏迷花糖都夺了过去。“根本不是太棒了！”

    “当然是太棒了，他们都还活着，是不是？”弗雷德生气地说。“你们不能这么做，万一害得他们中问有谁患上重病呢？”　“我们不会让他们得病的，这些糖我们已经在自己身上试验过了，现在只想看看是不是每个人的反应都一样——　”　“如果你们不停止这么做，我就要——　”　“罚我们关禁闭？”弗雷德说，声音里透着一种“我倒要看你敢不敢”的意思。“罚我们写句子？”乔治嘲笑着说。房间里在一旁观看的人都笑了起来。赫敏尽量把身体挺得笔直，眯起眼睛，一头毛蓬蓬的头发似乎噼噼啪啪地闪着电光。

    “不，”她说，声音因愤怒而微微发抖，“但我要写信给你们的妈妈。”“你不会的。”乔治说，大惊失色地从她面前退后了一步。“哦，会的。我会写的。”赫敏毫不含糊地说，“我不能阻止你们自己吃这些无聊的玩意儿，但你们不能把它们拿给一年级新生。”

    弗雷德和乔治看样子完全被吓坏了。显然，在他们看来，赫敏的威胁是很阴险的一招。赫敏最后又狠狠地瞪了他们一眼，把弗雷德的写字板和那一纸袋花糖塞进他怀里，然后大步走回她炉火旁的椅子前。

    这时候，罗恩在座位里把身体埋得低低的。鼻子差不多跟他的膝盖平行了。“感谢你的支持，罗恩。”赫敏刻薄地说。“你自己处理得很好嘛。”罗恩嘟哝了一句。赫敏瞪着面前空白的羊皮纸，愣了几秒钟，然后烦躁地说：“哦，没有用，我现在没法集中思想。我去睡觉了。”她猛地打开书包，哈利以为她要把书本收起来。没想到她掏出了两件奇形怪状的羊毛织的东西，把它们小心地放在壁炉旁边的一张桌子上，并用几张皱巴巴的羊皮纸和一支破羽毛笔盖住它们，然后退后一步观看效果。

    “我的天哪，你这到底是在做什么呀？”罗恩说，呆呆地望着她，好像怀疑她头脑是不是清醒。

    “这些是给家养小精灵的帽子，”她尖刻地说，现在才开始把书本塞进书包，“我暑假里织的。不用魔法，我织东西实在太慢了，现在回到了学校，应该能够再织出一大批了。”

    “你要把帽子留给家养小精灵？”罗恩慢慢地问，“还用垃圾把它们先盖起来？”

    “是的。”赫敏毫不示弱地说，把书包甩到了背后。

    “那是行不通的，”罗恩气呼呼地说，“你不能欺骗他们捡起这些帽子。你给他们自由，他们也许并不想得到自由。”

    “他们当然想得到自由！”赫敏不假思索地说，但脸色转成了粉红色，“你敢碰一碰那些帽子，罗恩！”

    她走了。罗恩等她刚一出了通向女生宿舍的门，就把那些垃圾从羊毛帽子上清除掉了。

    “至少应该让他们看清他们捡起来的是什么东西，”他坚决地说，“反正？？”他卷起那张写着斯内普那篇论文标题的羊皮纸，“现在要把它写完是不可能的了。赫敏不在，我根本没法儿写，月长石到底有什么用，我真是一点儿也不知道。你呢？”

    哈利摇了摇头，这才发现他的右边太阳穴疼得越来越厉害了。想起还要写那么长一篇关于巨人战争的文章，那疼痛更是如刀割一般。他知道明天早晨醒来，他肯定会后悔今天晚上没有完成家庭作业。他一边这么想着，一边把书本塞回书包里。

    “我也去睡觉了。”

    他走向通往男生宿舍的那扇门，正好与西莫擦肩而过，但看也没有看他。一闪念间，哈利仿佛觉得西莫张开嘴想要说话，他赶紧加快脚步来到安静的、令人舒心的石头螺旋式楼梯上，不想再忍受别人的挑衅和刺激。

    第二天早晨，天气和前一天一样灰蒙蒙的，细雨绵绵。吃早饭的时候，教工桌子上还是不见海格的身影。

    “可是从有利的方面看，斯内普今天也不在。”罗恩给他们打气说。

    赫敏打了一个大大的哈欠，给自己倒了一些咖啡。她似乎在为什么事情暗暗高兴，后来罗恩问她到底为什么事开心成这样，她简单地说：“帽子不见了。看来家养小精灵还是愿意得到自由的。”

    -179　？“这我可说不准，”罗恩尖刻地对她说，“它们大概根本就不能算衣物。在我看来，它们一点儿也不像帽子，倒更像是羊毛袋子。”

    赫敏一上午都没跟他说话。

    两节魔咒课后面接着是两节变形课。弗立维教授和麦格教授都先用了十五分钟向全班同学强调0.w.Ls考试的重要性。

    “你们必须记住，”矮个子弗立维教授尖声尖气地说，他像往常一样站在一堆书上，这样才能从讲台上看到全班同学，“这些考试可能会影响到你们未来许多年的前途！如果你们还没有严肃认真地考虑过你们的职业，现在应该好好想想了。与此同时，为了保证你们都发挥出自己的水平，恐怕我们都要比以前更加努力才行！”

    接着，他们花了一个多小时复习飞来咒，据弗立维教授说，这是他们的0WLs考试中肯定会有的内容。下课前，他前所未有地布置了一大堆魔咒作为家庭作业。

    变形课的情况即使不是更糟，也好不到哪儿去。

    “如果没有认真的学习、实践、应用，”麦格教授严肃地说，“你们就不可能通过0WLs考试。我认为，只要投入了时间和精力，这个班里的所有同学都没有理由得不到变形课的0.w.Ls合格证书。”纳威不敢相信地叹了口气。“没错，你也同样，隆巴顿。”麦格教授说，“你的操作没有任何错误，只是缺乏自信。因此？？今天我们要开始学习消失咒。消失咒要比你们一般在达到NE.w.Ts水平时才会练习的召唤咒简单一些，但它仍然是你们0.w.Ls考试中会出现的最难的魔法。”

    她说得很对。哈利发现消失咒难得要命。到两节课快结束时，他和罗恩谁都没能使他们用来练习的蜗牛消失，虽然罗恩抱有希望地说，他认为他那只蜗牛的颜色变浅了点儿。而赫敏刚试到第三次，就成功地使她的蜗牛消失了，因此从麦格教授那里为格兰芬多学院赢得了十分的奖励。只有她一个人不用做家庭作业，其他人都必须连夜练习这个魔咒，准备第二天下午再在那些蜗牛身上尝试一番。

    有这么多家庭作业要完成，哈利和罗恩有些慌神了。他们把午饭时间花在了泡图书馆上，好查找月长石在制药方面的用途。赫敏还在为罗恩诽谤她的羊毛帽子而生气，没有跟他们一起去。下午，当他们去上保护神奇生物课时，哈利的脑袋又疼了起来。

    天气阴冷，寒风凛冽，他们走下草坡、向禁林边上海格的小屋走去时，感到有零星的雨点落在他们脸上。格拉普兰教授站在海格小屋门前十米开外的地方等待同学们，她的面前有一张长长的搁板桌，上面放着许多细树枝。哈利和罗恩刚走到她身边，就听见身后传来一阵刺耳的笑声。回头一看，只见德拉科。马尔福-180　？大步朝他们走来，身边围着他那群形影不离的斯莱特林密友。显然他刚才说了什么特别好笑的话，因为等到克拉布、高尔、潘西帕金森及其他人围拢在搁板桌旁时，他们还忍不住开心地咯咯直笑，而且他们都不停地朝哈利这边看，因此哈利很容易就能猜出那个笑话说的是什么。

    “人都来齐了吧？”格拉普兰教授看到斯莱特林和格兰芬多的同学都到了，便粗声粗气地问道，“我们开始吧。谁能告诉我这些东西叫什么名字？”

    她指着面前的那一堆细树枝。赫敏腾地一下举起了手。在她身后，马尔福龇着牙齿，学她上蹿下跳、急着回答问题的样子。潘西帕金森发出一声刺耳的大笑，但几乎立刻就变成了一声尖叫，只见桌上的细树枝忽地蹿到空中，露出了它们的真面目，一个个像是木头做的小精灵，每个都长着褐色的、疙里疙瘩的腿和胳膊，每只手上有两根树枝般的手指，而每张扁平的、树皮般的滑稽面孔上都有两只圆溜溜的褐色小眼睛在闪闪发亮。

    “哎哟！”帕瓦蒂和拉文德说，这使哈利非常恼火。谁都认为海格从来没有给他们看过什么有趣的动物。必须承认，弗洛伯毛虫确实有点儿乏味，但火蜥蜴和鹰头马身有翼兽还是挺有趣的。而炸尾螺或许有趣得过了头。

    “姑娘们，请你们小声点儿！”格拉普兰教授严厉地说，抓了一把像是糙米一样的东西撒给那些枯枝般的动物，它们立刻扑上去吃了起来，“那么——　有谁知道这些动物的名字？格兰杰小姐？”

    “护树罗锅①，”赫敏说，“它们是树木的保护神，通常生活在魔杖树上。”

    “格兰芬多加五分。”格拉普兰教授说，“不错，这些动物是护树罗锅，格兰杰小姐说得很对，　它们一般生活在枝干可以用来做魔杖的树上。有谁知道它们吃什么吗？”

    “土鳖，”赫敏立刻答道，怪不得那些哈利以为是糙米的东西都在动个不停呢，“还有仙人蛋，如果它们能弄到的话。”

    “好孩子，再加五分。所以，如果你们需要在护树罗锅栖息的树上采集树叶或木料，最好准备一些土鳖作为礼物，吸引它们的注意力，安抚它们的情绪。它们看上去没什么危险，但如果被惹急了，就会用手指来挖人的眼睛。你们可以看到，它们的手指非常尖利，碰到人的眼球可不是好玩的。好了，如果你们愿意靠近一点，拿一些土鳖，领一只护树罗锅去——　这里的护树罗锅够三个人分到一只——　便可以更仔细地研究它们。我希望下课前每人完成一张草图，标出护树罗锅身体的每个部分。”

    全班同学都朝搁板桌拥去。哈利故意绕到后面，这样他正好站在了格拉普兰教授旁边。

    ①关于护树罗锅的详细描写。请见《神奇动物在哪里》一书。人民文学出版社。2001年10月版。

    -181　？“海格到哪儿去了？”趁其他人都在挑选护树罗锅时，他问她道。

    “不关你的事。”格拉普兰教授强硬地说，上一次海格没能来上课时，她也是这样的态度。德拉科马尔福那张尖脸上堆满坏笑，他把身体探到哈利面前，抓住了那只最大的护树罗锅。

    “说不定，”马尔福把声音压得很低，只有哈利一个人能听见，“那个愚蠢的傻大个儿受了重伤呢！”“如果你不闭嘴，没准你才会受重伤！”哈利几乎不动嘴唇地说。“说不定他正在摆弄他对付不了的大家伙呢，但愿你明自我的意思。”

    马尔福走开了，一边还扭头朝哈利坏笑着，哈利突然觉得一阵恶心。莫非马尔福真的知道一些情况？毕竟他父亲是一个食死徒啊。会不会他掌握了海格的下落，而凤凰社的人还没有听说呢？他匆忙绕过桌子，找到罗恩和赫敏，他们正蹲在不远处的草地上，试图说服护树罗锅安安稳稳地待一会儿，好让他们把它画下来。哈利掏出羊皮纸和羽毛笔，蹲在他们俩身边，小声地把马尔福刚才说的话告诉了他们。

    “如果海格出了什么事，邓布利多一定会知道的。”赫敏立刻说道，“你要是显出担心的样子，那就正好中了马尔福的圈套，他就会看出来我们不知道事情到底怎么样了。我们千万别去理睬他，哈利。来，抓住护树罗锅一会儿，让我把它的脸画下来？？”

    “没错，”从旁边那组人里传来马尔福清楚的、拖腔拖调的声音，“两天前我爸爸刚跟部长谈过话，听那意思，魔法部真的下决心要采取严厉措施，扭转这个地方不规范的教学了。所以，即使那个傻大个儿真的又露面了，他大概也会立马被打发回家的。”

    “哎哟！”

    因为哈利把护树罗锅抓得太紧，几乎都要把它折断了。护树罗锅挥起尖利的手指，报复性地在哈利手上狠狠打了一下，哈利的手上留下两条又长又深的伤口。哈利丢下了护树罗锅。克拉布和高尔听说海格会被开除就已经在粗声大笑，现在笑得更厉害了。只见护树罗锅使出全身力气向禁林跑去，一个快速移动的棍棍小人儿很快就消失在树根间不见了。当场地那边远远传来下课的铃声时，哈利卷起那张血迹斑斑的护树罗锅草图大步赶去上草药课，他手上包着赫敏的手帕，耳朵里还回响着马尔福讥讽的笑声。

    “如果他再管海格叫傻大个儿？？”哈利恶狠狠地说。“哈利，别去跟马尔福吵架，别忘了，他现在是级长，他可以使你的日子变得非常难过？？”“畦，我倒想知道难过的日子是什么滋味呢。”哈利讽刺地说。罗恩笑了，但赫敏皱起了眉头。三个人拖着沉重的脚步穿过菜地。天空似乎仍然拿不定主意要不要下雨。

    “我只希望海格赶紧把事情办完早点回来，就是这样。”他们来到温室时，哈利低声地说。“不许说格拉普兰那个女人上课上得比他强！”他又威胁地说了一句。

    “我本来就没想说。”赫敏平静地说。

    “因为她永远也不会有海格那么好。”哈利斩钉截铁地说，其实他心里很清楚，他刚才经历的是一节保护神奇生物课的示范课，他为此气恼得要命。

    离他们最近的那间温室的门开了，一些四年级学生从里面拥了出来，其中就有金妮。

    “嘿。”她走过时愉快地说。几秒钟后，卢娜洛夫古德也出来了，落在全班其他同学的后面，鼻子上沾着一块泥土，头发在头顶上打成了一个结。她一看见哈利，那双向外凸起的眼睛似乎兴奋得鼓了出来，她直冲着哈利走了过来。哈利班上的许多同学都好奇地转过脸来看着他们。卢娜深深地吸了口气，也没有先打一个招呼，就直通通地说道：“我相信那个连名字都不能提的魔头回来了，我相信你跟他展开过搏斗，并逃脱了他的魔爪。”

    “嗯——　是的。”哈利尴尬地说。卢娜戴着两个胡萝卜般的耳坠，帕瓦蒂和拉文德看来注意到了这点，她们俩咯咯笑着，一边用手指着她的耳垂。

    “你们可以笑，”卢娜说，声音提高了，显然她以为帕瓦蒂和拉文德是在笑她刚才说的话，而不是笑她戴的东西，“可是人们以前还以为世界上没有泡泡鼻涕怪和弯角鼾兽之类的东西呢！”

    “对啊，他们没有错啊，是不是？”赫敏不耐烦地说，“世界上确实没有泡泡鼻涕怪和弯角鼾兽之类的东西呀。”

    卢娜咄咄逼人地瞪了她一眼，猛一转身走开了，两个胡萝卜剧烈地晃荡着。

    这时尖声大笑的可不止帕瓦蒂和拉文德两个人了。

    “你能不能不要惹惟一相信我的人生气？”他们走进教室时，哈利对赫敏说。

    “哦，看在上天的份儿上，哈利，你总不至于把希望寄托在她身上吧。”赫敏说，“金妮把她所有的事情都告诉我了。显然，她只相信那些毫无根据的事情。唉，我就知道，她父亲办着《唱唱反调》，她还能好到哪儿去呢？”

    哈利想起了他到校那天晚上看见的那些不祥的带翅膀的怪马，想起卢娜当时说她也能看见它们。他的心微微往下一沉。难道她在说谎？可是没等哈利进一步深想这个问题，厄尼麦克米兰走到了他的面前。

    “我希望你知道，波特，”他用响亮的、传得很远的声音说道，“并不是只有怪人才支持你。我个人百分之百地相信你。我们全家始终坚决拥护邓布利多，我也是这样。”

    “哦——　非常感谢，厄尼。”哈利说，他很吃惊，同时也很高兴。厄尼这么做也许有点儿哗众取宠，但是以哈利当时的心情，能够得到一个没在耳朵上挂胡萝卜的人投来的信任的一票，他真是由衷地感激。厄尼的话无疑使拉文德布朗脸上的笑容一扫而光；当哈利转身跟罗恩和赫敏说话时，他瞥见了西莫的表情，看上去又困惑又不服气。

    不出大家所料，斯普劳特教授一上课就向他们强调O.w.Ls的重要性。哈利真希望所有的老师都别再谈这件事了。每当他想起他有那么多家庭作业要做，他就感到焦躁不安，心里一阵阵发紧，下课时斯普劳特教授又布置他们写一篇论文，哈利的这种感觉顿时变得更强烈了。一个半小时后，格兰芬多的同学们一个个精疲力竭，身上散发着浓浓的龙粪味儿——　这是斯普劳特教授最喜欢的一种肥料——　排着队返回城堡，谁也没有心思多说话。这又是特别累人的一天。

    哈利饿坏了，五点钟他还要到乌姆里奇那里去关第一次禁闭。他来不及把书包送到格兰芬多塔楼，就直接赶去吃晚饭，这样可以匆匆忙忙吃点东西，再去面对乌姆里奇为他准备的不知什么差使。然而，他刚来到礼堂门口，就听见一个愤怒的声音高喊道：“喂，波特！”

    “又怎么了？”他不耐烦地嘀咕道，一转身看见了安吉利娜约翰逊，看她那样子好像马上就要大发雷霆了。“我来告诉你又怎么了，”她说，几步冲到他面前，用手指使劲戳着他的胸口，“你怎么在星期五下午五点钟给自己弄了个关禁闭？”　“什么？”哈利说，“哎呀　对了，选拔守门员！”

    “这会儿倒想起来了！”安吉利娜吼叫着说，“我不是告诉过你，我希望全队球员都参加选拔，找到一个能跟每个队员都配合默契的人吗？我不是告诉过你，我已经特地定好了魁地奇球场了吗？现在你又决定不去参加了！”

    “我没有决定不去参加！”哈利说，觉得被这些不公平的话刺伤了，“是那个叫乌姆里奇的女人罚我关禁闭，就因为我跟她说了关于神秘人的实话。”

    “好吧，你可以直接去找她，请她星期五放你一马，”安吉利娜情绪激烈地说，“我不管你怎么做。如果你愿意，不妨告诉她神秘人是你凭空想象出来的，只为了保证你能够到场！”

    她气势汹汹地走了。

    “你们知道吗？”罗恩和赫敏走进礼堂时，哈利对他们说，“我想我们最好去找普德米尔联队①核实一下，奥利弗伍德是不是在训练期间不幸去世了，因为他的灵魂好像附在安吉利娜身上了。”

    “你认为有多少可能乌姆里奇会在星期五放你一马呢？”他们在格兰芬多的桌旁坐下来时，罗恩怀疑地说。

    ①关于这支球队的情况，请见《神奇的魁地奇球》一书，人民文学出版社。2001年10月版。

    -184　？“一点儿也没有，”哈利郁闷地说，一边把小羊排倒进自己的盘子里吃了起来，“不过最好还是试一试，对吗？我可以提出增加两次关禁闭什么的？？”他咽下一大口土豆，接着说道：“我希望她今天晚上别把我留得太晚。你们知道吗，我们要写三篇论文，给麦格练习消失咒，给弗立维设计一个破解咒，把护树罗锅的草图画完，还要开始给特里劳妮写那无聊的做梦日记！”

    罗恩叹了口气，不知为什么抬头扫了一眼天花板。

    “看样子天要下雨了。”

    “那跟我们的家庭作业有什么关系？”赫敏扬起眉毛问道。

    “没什么。”罗恩赶紧说道，耳朵变得通红。

    五点差五分的时候，哈利告别了他们俩，朝四楼乌姆里奇的办公室走去。他敲了敲门，只听一个甜得发腻的声音喊道：“进来。”哈利小心翼翼地走了进去，四下张望着。

    前面三位主人住在这里的时候，哈利曾经很熟悉这间办公室。在吉德罗洛哈特居住的那些日子，墙上到处贴着他本人笑容满面的照片。卢平住进来后，每次进来找他，都有可能遇见某个非常有趣的邪恶动物，关在笼子里或箱子里。而冒牌的穆迪住在这里的时候，房间里堆满了各种各样的器具和手工制品。用来探测别人的不轨行为和藏身之处。

    此刻，这个房间简直完全认不出来了。所有的东西上都盖着带花边的罩布和台布。还有几只插满干花的花瓶，每只都放在单独的小垫子上。一面墙上挂着一组装饰性的盘子，每只盘子上都有一只色彩鲜艳的大猫咪，各自脖子上戴着一个不同的蝴蝶结。这些东西太令人恶心了，哈利简直被吓住了，只顾呆呆地望着它们，后来乌姆里奇教授又说话了。

    “晚上好，波特先生。”

    哈利吓得急忙回过头来。他一开始没有注意到她，因为她穿着一件火红耀眼的印花长抱，颜色同她身后书桌上的桌布融在一起，简直分不出来。

    “晚上好，乌姆里奇教授。”哈利不自然地说。

    “好吧，坐下吧，”她说，指着一张垂着花边的小桌子。她已经在旁边放了一把直背椅，桌上有一张空白的羊皮纸，显然是为他准备的。

    “嗯，”哈利没有动弹，说道，“乌姆里奇教授，嗯——　在我们开始前，我——　我想请求你一？？一件事。”

    她那双向外凸出的眼睛眯了起来。

    “哦，什么？”

    “是这样，我？？我是格兰芬多魁地奇球队的队员。我应该在星期五下午五点钟参加新守门员的选拔，我——　我不知道我能不能那天晚上不来关禁闭，另外——　另外找一个晚上再补上？？”

    -185　？他不等把话说完，心里早就知道这是不会有用的。

    “哦，不行。”乌姆里奇说，咧开大嘴笑得那么肉麻，好像刚吞下了一只特别美味多汁的苍蝇，“哦，不行，不行，不行。这是对你散布邪恶、卑鄙、哗众取宠的谎言的惩罚。波特先生，惩罚当然不能为满足有过失者的方便而随意调整。不行，明天、后天，还有星期五，你都必须在下午五点钟到这里来，按计划关禁闭。我认为，你错过一些你特别喜欢的活动，这其实倒是一件好事。它应该能强化我打算给你的教训。”

    哈利感到血一下子冲上了脑袋，耳朵里嗡嗡作响。听她的意思，他是散布了“邪恶、卑鄙、哗众取宠的谎言”，不是吗？她微微偏着脑袋注视着他，脸上仍然挂着肉麻的微笑，似乎她很清楚他心里在想什么，正等着看他会不会再次发作，大喊大叫。哈利费了很大的努力，转开目光不去看她，把书包扔在那把直背椅旁边坐了下来。

    “不错，”乌姆里奇娇滴滴地说。“我们已经比较能够控制自己的情绪了，是不是？现在，你要为我写几个句子，波特先生。不，不是用你的羽毛笔，”看见哈利弯腰去打开书包，她赶紧补充道，“你要用的是我的一支很不同寻常的笔。给。”她递给他一支细细长长、笔尖特别尖利的黑色羽毛笔。“我要你写：我不可以说谎。”她语调轻柔地对他说。

    “写多少遍？”哈利问，也做出一副值得称赞的彬彬有礼的样子。

    “哦，一直写到这句话刻在你心里。”乌姆里奇嗲声嗲气地说，“开始写吧。”

    她走到自己的书桌旁坐了下来，埋头对付一堆羊皮纸，看着像是一批等待批改的论文。哈利举起尖利的黑色羽毛笔，这才发现缺少了什么。

    “你没有给我墨水。”他说。

    “哦，你不需要墨水的。”乌姆里奇教授说，声音里带着一点浅浅的笑意。

    哈利把羽毛笔的笔尖落在纸上，写道：我不可以说谎。

    他疼得倒抽了一口冷气。出现在羊皮纸上的字，看上去是用鲜红的墨水写成的。与此同时，这行字出现在了哈利右手的手背上，丽且深深陷进了皮肉里，像是用解剖刀刻上去的一样——　然而，就在他眼睁睁瞪着这些红艳艳的伤口时，皮肤又愈合了，刚才有字的地方只比以前稍微红了一点，但摸上去很光滑。

    哈利扭头去看乌姆里奇。她正注视着他，那张癞蛤蟆似的阔嘴咧成了一个微笑。

    “怎么啦？”

    “没什么。”哈利轻声说。

    他低头望着羊皮纸，再一次把笔尖落在上面，写下了我不可以说谎。他又一次感到手背上烧灼般的疼痛，那些字又一次刻进他的皮肤，几秒钟后，伤口又一次愈合了。

    -186　？就这样，哈利一遍又一遍地把这行字写在羊皮纸上。他很快就发现，他用的不是墨水，而是他自己的鲜血。一遍又一遍地，这些字刻进了他的手背，然后愈合，然后，当他再把笔尖落在羊皮纸上时，这些字又会再一次出现。

    乌姆里奇办公室的窗外，夜幕渐渐降临了。哈利没有问他什么时候可以停止。他甚至没有看看表上几点钟了。他知道她在注视他，看他有没有软弱的迹象，他不想显露出一丝一毫的软弱，即使他要在这里坐一整夜，用这支羽毛笔把自己的手深深地割开？？“过来。”过了似乎好几个小时之后，她说道。

    哈利站了起来。他的手火辣辣地疼。他低头一看，发现伤口虽然愈合了，但那里的皮肤红红的，露着嫩肉。

    “手。”乌姆里奇说。

    哈利把手伸了出去。她把它握在自己的手里。当她用肥厚短粗、戴着一大堆丑陋的老式戒指的手指触摸哈利的手时，哈利拼命克制住一阵战栗。

    “啧啧，看来我还没有给你留下一个深刻的烙印。”她笑容可掬地说，“没关系，我们明天晚上还要再试一试，对不对？你可以走了。”

    哈利一言不发地离开了她的办公室。学校里几乎空无一人，时间肯定已经过了半夜。他慢慢地走过走廊，当他拐了个弯、确信她不会听见时，便撒腿跑了起来。

    他没有时间练习消失咒，做梦日记里一个梦也没有记录下来，护树罗锅的草图还没有画完，那么多篇论文一篇也没有写。第二天早上，他没吃早饭，匆匆忙忙地编造了两个梦，草草写下来，准备拿到上午第一节的占卜课上交差。他吃惊地发现罗恩衣冠不整，蓬头垢面，也在临时抱佛脚。

    “你昨天晚上怎么没做呢？”哈利问道，罗恩漫无目标地在公共休息室里东张西望，寻找灵感。昨夜哈利回到宿舍时，他已经沉沉地睡着了。听了哈利的问话，他嘀咕了一句，像是“干别的事情了”，然后埋头在羊皮纸上划拉了几行字。

    “这肯定能对付了，”他啪地合上日记本说道，“我说我梦见我在买一双新鞋，这下子她总编派不出离奇的算命鬼话了吧？”

    他们一起匆匆赶往北塔楼。

    “对了，在乌姆里奇那里关禁闭怎么样？她叫你做什么了？”

    哈利迟疑了一刹那，说：“写句子。”

    “那倒不算太糟糕，是吧？”罗恩说。

    “是啊。”哈利说。

    “哟——　我忘记了——　她准你星期五的假了吗？”

    “没有。”哈利说。

    -187　？罗恩同情地叹了口气。

    对哈利来说，这又是很难熬的一天。变形课上他是表现最差的几个人之一，因为他根本就没有练习消失咒。午饭时间他不得不放弃休息，把护树罗锅的那张草图画完。这还不算，麦格、格拉普兰和辛尼斯塔教授又给他们布置了一大堆家庭作业，他根本不可能在当天晚上完成，因为他还要到乌姆里奇那里去进行第二次关禁闭。更糟糕的是，安吉利娜约翰逊听说他不能参加星期五选拔守门员的训练，就在吃晚饭的时候又找到他，告诉他说，她对他的态度很不满意，她希望每个打算留在球队的人都应把训练放在一切活动的首位。

    “我在关禁闭！”她昂首挺胸地走开时，哈利冲着她的背影嚷道，“你以为我不愿意去打魁地奇球，情愿跟那个老癞蛤蟆关在一问屋子里吗？”

    “还好，只是写写句子，”赫敏安慰他道，哈利一屁股坐在板凳上，低头望着面前的牛排腰子馅饼，他现在已经没有多少胃口了，“看起来倒不算是很可怕的惩罚？？”

    哈利张了张嘴又闭上了，随即点了点头。他也不明白自己为什么不想把乌姆里奇办公室里发生的一切告诉罗恩和赫敏。他只知道他不想看到他们脸上惊恐的表情，那只会使事情显得更加糟糕，因而也就更难面对。他还隐隐约约地感到，这是他和乌姆里奇之间的事情，是一场秘密的意志较量，他不想让她听到他在哭诉埋怨并因此而感到快意。

    “真不敢相信我们有这么多家庭作业要做。”罗恩烦恼地说。

    “那你昨天晚上干吗什么都不做呢？”赫敏问他，“你到底上哪儿去了？”

    “我？？我当时想散散步。”罗恩闪烁其词地说。

    哈利有一个很清楚的感觉：此刻隐瞒事情真相的不止他一个人。

    第二次关禁闭和第一次同样痛苦难熬。哈利手背上的皮肤现在变得更敏感，很快就变红了，像着了火一样地疼。哈利觉得过不了多久，伤口就不会那样有效地愈合了。过不了多久，那些字就会深深刻进他的手背，乌姆里奇大概就会满意了。不过，哈利拼命忍着不发出疼痛的喘息，丽且，从他走进办公室直到乌姆里奇放他离去——　又是午夜之后，他只说了两句话，“晚上好”和“晚安”。

    他的家庭作业现在已经到了不堪收拾的地步，因此他返回格兰芬多公共休息室后，尽管累得一点力气也没有了，但他并没有上床睡觉，而是打开书本，开始写斯内普布置的那篇关于月长石的论文。他写完时已经是两点半了。他知道写得很糟糕，但也没有办法，他必须交点东西上去，不然接下来就要被斯内普关禁闭了。接着，他匆匆回答了麦格教授给他们布置的几个问题，又在护树罗锅身上合适的部位拼凑了一些东西，准备拿去应付格拉普兰教授，然后才踉踉跄跄地上床睡觉，连衣服也没脱，囫囵倒在被子上，立刻就沉沉地睡着了。

    -188　？星期四是在昏昏沉沉的疲劳中度过的。罗恩看上去也是一脸困倦，哈利真不明白他为什么会这样。哈利的第三次关禁闭跟前两次没有什么两样，只是过了两个小时后，哈利手背上的我不可以说谎便不再愈合，一道道红红的划痕留在那里。冒出细细的血珠。乌姆里奇教授听不到羽毛笔笔尖的沙沙响声，便抬起头来。

    “啊，”她温柔地说，绕过她的书桌过来查看哈利的手，“很好。这应该可以时时提醒你了，是不是？你今晚可以走了。”

    “我明天还要来吗？”哈利问，一边用左手拎起书包，因为右手疼痛难忍。

    “哦，是的，”乌姆里奇教授说，笑得还像以前一样肉麻，“是的，我想再有一夜的努力，我们可以把这句话刻得更深一些。”

    哈利以前认为，他不可能恨世界上的哪个老师比恨斯内普更厉害，可是当他走回格兰芬多的塔楼时，他不得不承认为斯内普找到了一位强有力的竞争对手。这个女人是歹毒的，他一边爬上通往八楼的楼梯一边想着，她是一个邪恶的、变态的、疯狂的老——“罗恩？”

    他走到楼梯顶上，向右一转，差点儿撞到了罗恩身上。罗恩鬼鬼祟祟地藏在瘦子拉克伦的雕像后面，手里抓着他的飞天扫帚。罗恩看见哈利时惊得跳了起来，赶紧把他那把崭新的横扫1l藏到背后。

    “你在傲什么？”

    “嗯——　没什么。你在做什么？”

    哈利朝他皱起眉头。

    “行了，快告诉我吧！你藏在这里搞什么鬼？”

    “我——　我在躲弗雷德和乔治，如果你一定要知道的话。”罗恩说，“他们刚和一群一年级新生从这里走过去，我敢说他们又在新生身上试验那些玩意儿了。我是说，现在只要有赫敏在，他们就不能在公共休息室里做这件事了。”他慌乱地、滔滔不绝地说。“可是你拿着你的扫帚做什么？你该不是在飞吧，嗯？”哈利问。

    “我——　嗯——　嗯，好吧，我告诉你，可是不许笑话我，好吗？”罗恩提防地说，脸红得越来越厉害了，“我——　我想，既然我有了一把体面的扫帚，我不妨去试试参加格兰芬多守门员的选拔。好了，你笑吧。”

    “我没有笑。”哈利说。罗恩眨了眨眼睛。“这个主意太棒了！如果你能进入球队，真是再好不过了！我还从没有见你当过守门员呢，你技术怎么样？”

    “不算坏吧，”罗恩说，看到哈利的反应，他似乎大松了一口气，“查理、弗雷德和乔治在假期里练球时，总是叫我当守门员。”

    -189　？“这么说，你今晚一直在练习？”

    “每天晚上都练，从星期二开始？？不过就我一个人。我一直想给鬼飞球施魔法，让它们朝我飞来，可是不太容易，我不知道这会有多少用。”罗恩显得很紧张和焦虑，“弗雷德和乔治看到我也来参加选拔，肯定要笑掉大牙的。自从我被选为级长后，他们就一直没有停止过嘲笑我。”

    “真希望到时候我也能去。”哈利苦涩地说，他们一起朝公共休息室走去。

    “是啊，那么你——　哈利，你的手背上是什么？”

    哈利刚才用他没拎书包的右手浇了挠鼻子，现在赶紧想藏起来，可是已经来不及了，就像罗恩想藏起他的扫帚一样没有成功。

    “只是划伤了——　没有什么——　没有——　”

    可是罗恩一把抓住哈利的胳膊，把哈利的手背拉到他的眼前。他呆呆地望着刻进皮肤里的那一行字，片刻之后，他显出恶心得要吐的样子，放开了哈利。

    “我记得你说她只是罚你写句子呀？”

    哈利迟疑着，可毕竟罗恩已经对他说了实话，于是他把在乌姆里奇办公室里几个小时的遭遇如实地告诉了罗恩。

    “那个老母夜叉！”罗恩厌恶地低声说道，他们在胖夫人面前停下脚步，胖夫人正把脑袋靠在像框上，恬静地打着瞌睡，“她不正常！去找麦格说说这个情况！”

    “不，”哈利不假思索地说，“我不想让她知道她弄得我心烦意乱，她会感到得意的。”

    “弄得你心烦意乱？你不能让她白白地这么做！”

    “我不知道麦格有多大权力能够管束她。”哈利说。

    “邓布利多，那就告诉邓布利多！”

    “不。”哈利淡淡地说。

    “为什么不？”

    “他需要考虑的事情太多了。”哈利说，其实这不是真正的原因。他不想到邓布利多那里寻求帮助，因为邓布利多从六月份起就没有对他说过一次话。

    “那么，我想你应该——　”罗恩话没说完，就被胖夫人打断了，她刚才一直睡眼嚎咙地望着他们，这会儿忍不住嚷了起来，“你们到底给不给我口令，还是要我整夜在这里醒着，等你们两个把话说完？”

    星期五早晨，天色还是和这星期的前几天一样阴沉而潮湿。哈利走进礼堂时，尽管还是习惯性地朝教工桌子扫了一眼，但实际上已经对看到海格不抱什么希望了。他立刻就把思路转到了一些更加迫在眉睫的事情上，比如必须完成的堆积如山的家庭作业，还有必须再到鸟姆里奇那里去关一次禁闭。

    那天有两件事情给了哈利一些信心。一是他想到马上就要到周末了，二是尽管最后一次到乌姆里奇那里关禁闭肯定会很恐怖，但从她办公室的窗户能远远地看见魁地奇球场，如果运气好，说不定还能多少看见一点罗恩的选拔情况呢。当然，这些都是十分渺茫的希望之光，可是哈利目前的处境一片黑暗，但凡有什么事情能带来一点点光亮，他都会感到欣慰。他在霍格沃茨还从未经历过比这更糟糕的开学第一个星期呢。

    那天傍晚五点钟。他敲响了乌姆里奇教授办公室的门——　他满心希望这是最后一次。乌姆里奇喊他进去，在铺着花边的桌子上，那张空白羊皮纸已经在等着他了，旁边放着那支尖利的黑色羽毛笔。

    “你知道该怎么做，波特先生。”乌姆里奇说，一边嗲兮兮地冲他笑着。

    哈利拿起羽毛笔，朝窗外望了一眼。只要把椅子再往右边挪一两寸？？他假装往桌子跟前挪了挪，做到了这一点。现在他能远远地看见格兰芬多魁地奇球队的队员们在球场上飞来飞去的身影了，三根高高的球门柱底下站着六七个黑乎乎的人影，显然在等着当守门员。离得太远了，不可能看清哪一个是罗恩。

    我不可以说谎，哈利写道。他右手背上的伤口裂开了，再次流出鲜血。

    我不可以说谎。伤口陷得更深，火辣辣地剧痛。

    我不可以说谎。鲜血顺着手腕流淌下来。

    他冒险又朝窗外望了一眼。现在防守球门柱的不知是谁，表现糟糕透了。在哈利鼓足勇气偷看的几秒钟内，凯蒂贝尔就连进了两球。他垂下目光，重新望着血迹斑斑的羊皮纸，真希望那个守门员不是罗恩。

    我不可以说谎。

    我不可以说谎。

    他只要觉得有机会就抬头往窗外看，只要能听见乌姆里奇的羽毛笔写字的声音，或听见她打开书桌抽屉的声音。第三个参加选拔的人很不错，第四个非常差劲，第五个特别漂亮地躲过了一个游走球，却把一个很容易接住的球漏进了球门。天色越来越黑，哈利心想恐怕他根本不可能看见第六和第七个候选人了。

    我不可以说谎。

    我不可以说谎。

    羊皮纸上满是从他手背上流出的殷红的鲜血，而他的手背疼得像着了火一般。当他再次抬头看时，夜幕已经降临，他再也看不清魁地奇球场上的情形了。

    “让我们看看你有没有吃透这句话，好吗？”半小时后，乌姆里奇柔声细语地说。

    她朝啥利走来，伸出她短粗的、戴着戒指的手指来抓他的胳膊。当她抓住他、仔细查看那些深深刻进他皮肉的文字时，他感到一阵烧灼般的剧痛，但不是手背在痛，而是他额头上的伤疤在痛。与此同时，他上腹部的什么地方还产生了-191　？一种十分异样的感觉。

    他把胳膊从她手里挣脱出来，腾地站起身，直直地瞪着她。她也望着他，脸上的笑容把那张松泡泡的阔嘴抻得大大的。

    “是啊，很疼，是不是？”她温柔地问。

    哈利没有回答。他的心怦怦怦地跳得很响很快。她是在说他的手，还是她知道他刚才额头上的感觉呢？“好吧，我认为我的目的达到了，波特先生。你可以走了。”

    他拎起书包，尽快离开了房间。

    保持冷静，他一边三步并作两步地奔上楼梯一边对自己说。保持冷静，不一定就是你所认为的那样？？“米布米宝！”他气喘吁吁地对胖夫人说，肖像画又一次打开了。迎接他的是一片喧闹。罗恩迎面朝他跑来，满脸笑开了花，手里端着高脚酒杯，黄油啤酒洒得胸前都是。

    “哈利，我成功了，我入选了，我是守门员了！”

    “什么？哦——　太棒了！”哈利说，努力使自己笑得自然一些，而他的心还在怦怦地狂跳，手还在突突地阵痛，还在流血。

    “喝一点黄油啤酒吧，”罗恩塞给他一只酒瓶，“我真不敢相信——　赫敏去哪儿了？”

    “她在那儿。”也在大口喝着黄油啤酒的弗雷德说，指了指炉火旁的一把扶手椅。赫敏坐在椅子里打瞌睡，手里的酒杯歪向一边，眼看就要洒出来了。

    “嗯，刚才我把消息告诉她时，她说她很高兴。”罗恩说，显得有点不知所措。

    “让她睡吧。”乔治赶忙说道。过了一会儿，哈利才注意到他们周围的那几个一年级新生脸上毫无疑问都带着刚流过鼻血的痕迹。

    “来吧，罗恩，看看奥利弗的旧袍子你穿上合适不合适。”凯蒂贝尔大声说，“我们可以把他的名字摘掉，换上你的？？”

    罗恩走了过去，安吉利娜大步走到哈利面前。

    “对不起，我先前对你有些粗暴，波特。”她唐突地说，“当一个头儿压力太大了，你知道。有时我都觉得自己有点儿步伍德的后尘了。”她的目光越过高脚酒杯的边缘望着罗恩，微微蹙起了眉头。

    “是这样，我知道他是你最好的朋友，但他不是最理想的，”她直率地说，“不过我认为经过一些训练，他应该没有问题。他家里出过一批出色的魁地奇球员。说实在话，我希望他以后能表现得比今天更有天分。维基弗罗比舍和杰弗里。胡珀今晚飞得都比他好，可是胡珀动不动就哼哼唧唧，总是为一些鸡毛蒜皮的事没完没了地抱怨，维基的社会活动太多了。她自己也承认，如果训练和她的‘魅力俱乐部’相冲突，她会把‘魅力’放在第一位。不管怎么说，我们明天下午两点-192　？钟有一场训练，这次你可一定要去。还要拜托你一件事，尽量多帮助帮助罗恩，好吗？”

    他点了点头，安吉利娜慢慢走回去找艾丽娅斯平内特了。哈利过去坐在赫敏身边，他刚放下书包，赫敏就猛地惊醒过来。

    “哦，哈利，是你？？罗恩真棒，是吗？”她睡眼惺忪地说。“我只是太——　太——　太累了，”她打了个哈久，“我一点钟才睡觉，一直在织帽子。它们一眨眼就消失了！”

    果然，哈利仔细一看，发现房问里到处藏着羊毛帽子，让粗心大意的小精灵可以无意中捡拾起来。

    “太好了。”哈利心不在焉地说，如果再不马上找人说说，他就要憋得爆炸了，“听着，赫敏，我刚才在乌姆里奇的办公室里，她碰了我的胳膊？？”

    赫敏专注地听着。哈利讲完后，她慢慢地说：“你担心神秘人控制了她，就像当年控制奇洛一样？”

    “是啊，”哈利压低声音说，“有这种可能，是不是？”

    “我想也是，”赫敏说，不过听她的语气，似乎并不完全相信，“但我认为神秘人不可能再像支配奇洛那样支配她了。我的意思是，神秘人现在已经活过来了，是不是，他有了自己的身体，不需要再去霸占别人的肉体。我想，他大概对乌姆里奇施了夺魂咒？？”

    哈利望着弗雷德、乔治和李乔丹抛接黄油啤酒的空瓶子，一时间没有说话。然后赫敏又说道：“去年，没有人碰你，你的伤疤也会疼起来，邓布利多不是说这与神秘人当时的感觉有关吗？我的意思是，说不定这与乌姆里奇根本没有什么关系，但发生这样的事时你正好跟她在一起，这也许只是巧合而已？”

    “她是魔鬼，”哈利没精打采地说，“变态。”“她确实很可怕，没错，但是？？哈利，我认为你最好去告诉邓布利多你的伤疤又疼了。”这是两天里第二次有人建议他去找邓布利多，他对赫敏的回答跟对罗恩的回答完全一样。“我不想用这件事去打扰他。就像你刚才说的，这不是什么大不了的事。整个暑假都在断断续续地疼——　只是今晚疼得更厉害一点，没什么——　”

    “哈利，我相信邓布利多愿意被这件事打扰——　”

    “是啊，”哈利没来得及控制住自己，脱口说道，“这是邓布利多惟一关心我的地方，是不是，我的伤疤？”

    “别这么说，不是这样的！”

    “我想，我还是写信把这件事告诉小天狼星吧，看看他怎么想——　”

    “哈利，你不能在信里谈这样的事情！”赫敏说，显得很惊慌，“你不记得啦，穆迪告诉我们写信时千万要小心！我们不能保证猫头鹰不再被人半路截走！”

    “好吧，好吧，那我就不告诉他！”啥利烦躁地说。他站了起来。“我要去睡觉了。替我告诉罗恩一声。好吗？”

    “哦，不行，”赫敏显出松了口气的样子，说道，“既然你要走，那就说明我也可以离开而不显得失礼了。我真是累坏了，明天我还想再织一些帽子。对了，如果你愿意，可以帮我一起织，很好玩的，现在我的技术越来越好了，还能织出图案、小毛球和各种各样的花样呢。”

    哈利仔细望着她的脸，发现那上面闪烁着喜悦的光芒，他竭力显出对她提出的建议有点儿动心的样子。

    “嗯？？不，我恐怕不能，谢谢。”他说，“嗯——　明天不行。我有一大堆家庭作业要做呢？？”

他拖着疲惫的脚步走向男生宿舍的楼梯，赫敏被撇在那里，显得有点儿失望。

Percy And Padfoot

Harry was first to wake up in his dormitory next morning. He lay for a moment watching dust swirl in the ray of sunlight coming through the gap in his four-poster's hangings, and savoured the thought that it was Saturday. The first week of term seemed to have dragged on for ever, like one gigantic History of Magic lesson.
Judging by the sleepy silence and the freshly minted look of that beam of sunlight, it was just after daybreak. He pulled open the curtains around his bed, got up and started to dress. The only sound apart from the distant twittering of birds was the slow, deep breathing of his fellow Gryffindors. He opened his schoolbag carefully, pulled out parchment and quill and headed out of the dormitory for the common room.
Making straight for his favourite squashy old armchair beside the now extinct fire, Harry settled himself down comfortably and unrolled his parchment while looking around the room. The detritus of crumpled-up bits of parchment, old Gobstones, empty ingredient jars and sweet wrappers that usually covered the common room at the end of each day was gone, as were all Hermione's elf hats. Wondering vaguely how many elves had now been set free whether they wanted to be or not, Harry uncorked his ink bottle, dipped his quill into it, then held it suspended an inch above the smooth yellowish surface of his parchment, thinking hard ... but after a minute or so he found himself staring into the empty grate, at a complete loss for what to say.
He could now appreciate how hard it had been for Ron and Hermione to write him letters over the summer. How was he supposed to tell Sirius everything that had happened over the past week and pose all the questions he was burning to ask without giving potential letter-thieves a lot of information he did not want them to have?
He sat quite motionless for a while, gazing into the fireplace, then, finally coming to a decision, he dipped his quill into the ink bottle once more and set it resolutely on the parchment.
Dear Snuffles,
Hope you're OK, the first week back here's been terrible, I'm really glad it's the weekend.
We've got a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umbridge. She's nearly as nice as your mum. I'm writing because that thing I wrote to you about last summer happened again last night when I was doing a detention with Umbridge.
We're all missing our biggest friend, we hope he'll be back soon.
Please write back quickly.
Best,
Harry
Harry reread the letter several times, trying to see it from the point of view of an outsider. He could not see how they would know what he was talking about—or who he was talking to—just from reading this letter. He did hope Sirius would pick up the hint about Hagrid and tell them when he might be back. Harry did not want to ask directly in case it drew too much attention to what Hagrid might be up to while he was not at Hogwarts.
Considering it was a very short letter, it had taken a long time to write; sunlight had crept halfway across the room while he had been working on it and he could now hear distant sounds of movement from the dormitories above. Sealing the parchment carefully, he climbed through the portrait hole and headed off for the Owlery.
‘I would not go that way if I were you,’ said Nearly Headless Nick, drifting disconcertingly through a wall just ahead of Harry as he walked down the passage. ‘Peeves is planning an amusing joke on the next person to pass the bust of Paracelsus halfway down the corridor.’
‘Does it involve Paracelsus falling on top of the person's head?’ asked Harry.
‘Funnily enough, it does,’ said Nearly Headless Nick in a bored voice. ‘Subtlety has never been Peeves's strong point. I'm off to try and find the Bloody Baron ... he might be able to put a stop to it ... see you, Harry ...’
‘Yeah, bye,’ said Harry and instead of turning right, he turned left, taking a longer but safer route up to the Owlery. His spirits rose as he walked past window after window showing brilliantly blue sky; he had training later, he would be back on the Quidditch pitch at last.
Something brushed his ankles. He looked down and saw the caretaker's skeletal grey cat, Mrs Norris, slinking past him. She turned lamplike yellow eyes on him for a moment before disappearing behind a statue of Wilfred the Wistful.
‘I'm not doing anything wrong,’ Harry called after her. She had the unmistakeable air of a cat that was off to report to her boss, yet Harry could not see why; he was perfectly entitled to walk up to the Owlery on a Saturday morning.
The sun was high in the sky now and when Harry entered the Owlery the glassless windows dazzled his eyes; thick silvery beams of sunlight crisscrossed the circular room in which hundreds of owls nestled on rafters, a little restless in the early-morning light, some clearly just returned from hunting. The straw-covered floor crunched a little as he stepped across tiny animal bones, craning his neck for a sight of Hedwig.
‘There you are,’ he said, spotting her somewhere near the very top of the vaulted ceiling. ‘Get down here, I've got a letter for you.’
With a low hoot she stretched her great white wings and soared down on to his shoulder.
‘Right, I know this says Snuffles on the outside,’ he told her, giving her the letter to clasp in her beak and, without knowing exactly why, whispering, ‘but it's for Sirius, OK?’
She blinked her amber eyes once and he took that to mean that she understood.
‘Safe flight, then,’ said Harry and he carried her to one of the windows; with a moments pressure on his arm, Hedwig took off into the blindingly bright sky. He watched her until she became a tiny black speck and vanished, then switched his gaze to Hagrid's hut, clearly visible from this window, and just as clearly uninhabited, the chimney smokeless, the curtains drawn.
The treetops of the Forbidden Forest swayed in a light breeze. Harry watched them, savouring the fresh air on his face, thinking about Quidditch later ... then he saw it. A great, reptilian winged hcrse, just like the ones pulling the Hogwarts carriages, with leahery black wings spread wide like a pterodactyl's, rose up out of the trees like a grotesque, giant bird. It soared in a great circle, then plunged back into the trees. The whole thing had happened so quickly, Harry could hardly believe what he had seen, except that his heart was hammering madly.
The Owlery door opened behind him. He leapt in shock and, turning quickly, saw Cho Chang holding a letter and a parcel in his hands.
‘Hi,’ said Harry automatically.
‘Oh ... hi,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I didn't think anyone would be up here this early ... I only remembered five minutes ago, it's my mum's birthday’
She held up the parcel.
‘Right,’ said Harry. His brain seemed to have jammed. He wanted to say something funny and interesting, but the memory of that terrible winged horse was fresh in his mind.
‘Nice day,’ he said, gesturing to the windows. His insides seemed to shrivel with embarrassment. The weather. He was talking about the weather ...
‘Yeah,’ said Cho, looking around for a suitable owl. ‘Good Quidditch conditions. I haven't been out all week, have you?’
‘No,’ said Harry.
Cho had selected one of the school barn owls. She coaxed it down on to her arm where it held out an obliging leg so that she could attach the parcel.
‘Hey has Gryffindor got a new Keeper yet?’ she asked.
‘Yeah,’ said Harry. ‘It's my friend Ron Weasley, d'you know him?’
‘The Tornados-hater?’ said Cho rather coolly. ‘Is he any good?’
‘Yeah,’ said Harry, ‘I think so. I didn't see his tryout, though, I was in detention.’
Cho looked up, the parcel only half-attached to the owl's legs.
‘That Umbridge woman's foul,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Putting you in detention just because you told the truth about how—how—how he died. Everyone heard about it, it was all over the school. You were really brave standing up to her like that.’
Harry's insides re-inflated so rapidly he felt as though he might actually float a few inches off the dropping-strewn floor. Who cared about a stupid flying horse; Cho thought he had been really brave. For a moment, he considered accidentally-on-purpose showing her his cut hand as he helped her tie her parcel on to her owl ... but the very instant this thrilling thought occurred, the Owlery door opened again.
Filch the caretaker came wheezing into the room. There were purple patches on his sunken, veined cheeks, his jowls were aquiver and his thin grey hair dishevelled; he had obviously run here. Mrs. Norris came trotting at his heels, gazing up at the owls overhead and mewing hungrily. There was a restless shifting of wings from above and a large brown owl snapped his beak in a menacing fashion.
‘Aha!’ said Filch, taking a flat-footed step towards Harry, his pouchy cheeks trembling with anger. ‘I've had a tip-off that you are intending to place a massive order for Dungbombs!’
Harry folded his arms and stared at the caretaker.
‘Who told you I was ordering Dungbombs?’
Cho was looking from Harry to Filch, also frowning; the barn owl on her arm, tired of standing on one leg, gave an admonitory hoot but she ignored it.
‘I have my sources.’ said Filch in a self-satisfied hiss. ‘Now hand over whatever it is you're sending.’
Feeling immensely thankful that he had not dawdled in posting off the letter, Harry said, ‘I can't, it's gone.’
‘Gone?’ said Filch, his face contorting with rage.
‘Gone,’ said Harry calmly.
Filch opened his mouth furiously, mouthed for a few seconds, then raked Harry's robes with his eyes.
‘How do I know you haven't got it in your pocket?’
‘Because—’
‘I saw him send it,’ said Cho angrily.
Filch rounded on her.
‘You saw him—?’
‘That's right, I saw him,’ she said fiercely.
There was a moment's pause in which Filch glared at Cho and Cho glared right back, then the caretaker turned on his heel and shuffled back towards the door. He stopped with his hand on the handle and looked back at Harry.
‘If I get so much as a whiff of a Dungbomb ...’
He stumped off down the stairs. Mrs. Norris cast a last longing look at the owls and followed him.
Harry and Cho looked at each other.
‘Thanks,’ Harry said.
‘No problem,’ said Cho, finally fixing the parcel to the barn owl's other leg, her face slightly pink. ‘You weren't ordering Dungbombs, were you?’
‘No,’ said Harry.
‘I wonder why he thought you were, then?’ she said as she carried the owl to the window.
Harry shrugged. He was quite as mystified by that as she was, though oddly it was not bothering him very much at the moment.
They left the Owlery together. At the entrance of a corridor that led towards the west wing of the castle, Cho said, ‘I'm going this way.Well, I'll ... I'll see you around, Harry.’
‘Yeah ... see you.’
She smiled at him and departed. Harry walked on, feeling quietly elated. He had managed to have an entire conversation with her and not embarrassed himself once ... you were really brave standing up to her like that ...Cho had called him brave ... she did not hate him for being alive ...
Of course, she had preferred Cedric, he knew that ... though if he'd only asked her to the Ball before Cedric had, things might have turned out differently ... she had seemed sincerely sorry that she'd had to refuse when Harry asked her ...
‘Morning,’ Harry said brightly to Ron and Hermione as he joined them at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.
‘What are you looking so pleased about?’ said Ron, eyeing Harry in surprise.
‘Erm ... Quidditch later,’ said Harry happily, pulling a large platter of bacon and eggs towards him.
‘Oh ... yeah ...’ said Ron. He put down the piece of toast he was eating and took a large swig of pumpkin juice. Then he said, ‘Listen ... you don't fancy going out a bit earlier with me, do you? Just to—er—give me some practice before training? So I can, you know, get my eye in a bit.’
‘Yeah, OK,’ said Harry.
‘Look, I don't think you should,’ said Hermione seriously. ‘You're both really behind on homework as it—’
But she broke off; the morning post was arriving and, as usual, the Daily Prophet was soaring towards her in the beak of a screech owl, which landed perilously close to the sugar bowl and held out a leg. Hermione pushed a Knut into its leather pouch, took the newspaper, and scanned the front page critically as the owl took off.
‘Anything interesting?’ said Ron. Harry grinned, knowing Ron was keen to keep her off the subject of homework.
‘No,’ she sighed, ‘just some guff about the bass player in the Weird Sisters getting married.’
Hermione opened the paper and disappeared behind it. Harry devoted himself to another helping of eggs and bacon. Ron was staring up at the high windows, looking slightly preoccupied.
‘Wait a moment,’ said Hermione suddenly. ‘Oh no ... Sirius!’
‘What's happened?’ said Harry, snatching at the paper so violently it ripped down the middle, with him and Hermione each holding one half.
’ “The Ministry of Magic has received a tip-off from a reliable source that Sirius Black, notorious mass murderer ... blah blah blah ...is currently hiding in London!”‘Hermione read from her half in an anguished whisper.
‘Lucius Malfoy, I'll bet anything,’ said Harry in a low, furious voice. ‘He did recognise Sirius on the platform ...’
‘What?’ said Ron, looking alarmed. ‘You didn't say—’
‘Shh!’ said the other two.
‘... “Ministry warns wizarding community that Black is very dangerous ... killed thirteen people ... broke out of Azkaban ...” the usual rubbish,’ Hermione concluded, laying down her half of the paper and looking fearfully at Harry and Ron. ‘Well, he just won't be able to leave the house again, that's all,’ she whispered. ‘Dumbledore did warn him not to.’
Harry looked down glumly at the bit of the Prophet he had torn off. Most of the page was devoted to an advertisement for Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, which was apparently having a sale.
‘Hey!’ he said, flattening it down so Hermione and Ron could see it. ‘Look at this!’
‘I've got all the robes I want,’ said Ron.
‘No,’ said Harry. ‘Look ... this little piece here ...’
Ron and Hermione bent closer to read it; the item was barely an inch long and placed right at the bottom of a column. It was headlined:
TRESPASS AT MINISTRY

Sturgis Podmore, 38, of number two, Laburnum Gardens, Clapham, has appeared in front of the Wizcngamot charged with trespass and attempted robbery at the Ministry of Magic on 31st August. Podmore was arrested by Ministry of Magic watchwizard Eric Munch, who found him attempting to force his way through a top-security door at one o'clock in the morning. Podmore, who refused to speak, in his own defence, was convicted on both charges and sentenced to six months in Azkaban.

‘Sturgis Podmore?’ said Ron slowly. ‘He's that bloke who looks like his head's been thatched, isn't he? He's one of the Ord—
‘Ron, shh!’ said Hermione, casting a terrified look around them.
‘Six months in Azkaban!’ whispered Harry, shocked. ‘Just for trying to get through a door!’
‘Don't be silly, it wasn't just for trying to get through a door. What on earth was he doing at the Ministry of Magic at one o'clock in the morning?’ breathed Hermione.
D'you reckon he was doing something for the Order?’ Ron muttered.
‘Wait a moment ...’ said Harry slowly. ‘Sturgis was supposed to come and see us off, remember?’
The other two looked at him.
‘Yeah, he was supposed to be part of our guard going to King's Cross, remember? And Moody was all annoyed because he didn't turn up; so he couldn't have been on a job for them, could he?’
‘Well, maybe they didn't expect him to get caught,’ said Hermione.
‘It could be a frame-up!’ Ron exclaimed excitedly. ‘No—listen!’ he went on, dropping his voice dramatically at the threatening look on Hermione's face. ‘The Ministry suspects he's one of Dumbledore's lot so—I dunno—they lured him to the Ministry, and he wasn't trying to get through a door at all! Maybe they've just made something up to get him!’
There was a pause while Harry and Hermione considered this. Harry thought it seemed far-fetched. Hermione, on the other hand, looked rather impressed.
‘Do you know, I wouldn't be at all surprised if that were true.’
She folded up her half of the newspaper thoughtfully. As Harry laid down his knife and fork, she seemed to come out of a reverie.
‘Right, well, I think we should tackle that essay for Sprout on self-fertilising shrubs first and if we're lucky we'll be able to start McGonagall's Inanimatus Conjurus Spell before lunch ...’
Harry felt a small twinge of guilt at the thought of the pile of homework awaiting him upstairs, but the sky was a clear, exhilarating blue, and he had not been on his Firebolt for a week ...
‘I mean, we can do it tonight,’ said Ron, as he and Harry walked down the sloping lawns towards the Quidditch pitch, their broomsticks over their shoulders, and with Hermione's dire warnings that they would fail all their OWLs still ringing in their ears. ‘And we've got tomorrow. She gets too worked up about work, that's her trouble ...’ There was a pause and he added, in a slightly more anxious tone, ‘D'you think she meant it when she said we weren't copying from her?’
‘Yeah, I do,’ said Harry. ‘Still, this is important, too, we've got to practise if we want to stay on the Quidditch team ...’
‘Yeah, that's right,’ said Ron, in a heartened tone. ‘And we have got plenty of time to do it all ...’
As they approached the Quidditch pitch, Harry glanced over to his right to where the trees of the Forbidden Forest were swaying darkly. Nothing flew out of them; the sky was empty but for a few distant owls fluttering around the Owlery tower. He had enough to worry about; the flying horse wasn't doing him any harm; he pushed it out of his mind.
They collected balls from the cupboard in the changing room and set to work, Ron guarding the three tall goalposts, Harry playing Chaser and trying to get the Quaffle past Ron. Harry thought Ron was pretty good; he blocked three-quarters of the goals Harry attempted to put past him and played better the longer they practised. After a couple of hours they returned to the castle for lunch—during which Hermione made it quite clear she thought they were irresponsible—then returned to the Quidditch pitch for the real training session. All their teammates but Angelina were already in the changing room when they entered.
‘All right, Ron?’ said George, winking at him.
‘Yeah,’ said Ron, who had become quieter and quieter all the way down to the pitch.
‘Ready to show us all up, Ickle Prefect?’ said Fred, emerging tousle-haired from the neck of his Quidditch robes, a slightly malicious grin on his face.
‘Shut up,’ said Ron, stony-faced, pulling on his own team robes for the first time. They fitted him well considering they had been Oliver Wood's, who was rather broader in the shoulder.
‘OK, everyone,’ said Angelina, entering from the Captain's office, already changed. ‘Let's get to it; Alicia and Fred, if you can just bring out the ball crate for us. Oh, and there are a couple of people out there watching but I want you to just ignore them, all right?’
Something in her would-be casual voice made Harry think he might know who the uninvited spectators were, and sure enough, when they left the changing room for the bright sunlight of the pitch it was to a storm of catcalls and jeers from the Slytherin Quidditch team and assorted hangers-on, who were grouped halfway up the empty stands and whose voices echoed loudly around the stadium.
‘What's that Weasley's riding?’ Malfoy called in his sneering drawl. ‘Why would anyone put a flying charm on a mouldy old log like that?’
Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson guffawed and shrieked with laughter. Ron mounted his broom and kicked off from the ground and Harry followed him, watching his ears turn red from behind.
‘Ignore them,’ he said, accelerating to catch up with Ron, ‘we'll see who's laughing after we play them ...’
‘Exactly the attitude I want, Harry,’ said Angelina approvingly soaring around them with the Quaffle under her arm and slowing to hover on the spot in front of her airborne team. ‘OK, everyone, we're going to start with some passes just to warm up, the whole team please—’
‘Hey, Johnson, what's with that hairstyle, anyway?’ shrieked Pansy Parkinson from below. ‘Why would anyone want to look like they've got worms coming out of their head?’
Angelina swept her long braided hair out of her face and continued calmly, ‘Spread out, then, and let's see what we can do ...’
Harry reversed away from the others to the far side of the pitch. Ron fell back towards the opposite goal. Angelina raised the Quaffle with one hand and threw it hard to Fred, who passed to George, who passed to Harry, who passed to Ron, who dropped it.
The Slytherins, led by Malfoy, roared and screamed with laughter. Ron, who had pelted towards the ground to catch the Quaffle before it landed, pulled out of the dive untidily, so that he slipped sideways on his broom, and returned to playing height, blushing. Harry saw Fred and George exchange looks, but uncharacteristically neither of them said anything, for which he was grateful.
‘Pass it on, Ron,’ called Angelina, as though nothing had happened.
Ron threw the Quaffle to Alicia, who passed back to Harry, who passed to George ...
‘Hey, Potter, how's your scar feeling?’ called Malfoy. ‘Sure you don't need a lie down? It must be, what, a whole week since you were in the hospital wing, that's a record for you, isn't it?’
George passed to Angelina; she reverse-passed to Harry, who had not been expecting it, but caught it in the very tips of his fingers and passed it quickly to Ron, who lunged for it and missed by inches.
‘Come on now, Ron,’ said Angelina crossly, as he dived for the ground again, chasing the Quaffle. ‘Pay attention.’
It would have been hard to say whether Ron's face or the Quaffle was a deeper scarlet when he again returned to playing height. Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherin team were howling with laughter.
On his third attempt, Ron caught the Quaffle; perhaps out of relief he passed it on so enthusiastically that it soared straight though Katie's outstretched hands and hit her hard in the face.
‘Sorry!’ Ron groaned, zooming forwards to see whether he had done any damage.
‘Get back in position, she's fine!’ barked Angelina. ‘But as you're passing to a teammate, do try not to knock her off her broom, won't you? We've got Bludgers for that!’
Katie's nose was bleeding. Down below, the Slytherins were stamping their feet and jeering. Fred and George converged on Katie.
‘Here, take this,’ Fred told her, handing her something small anc purple from out of his pocket, ‘it'll clear it up in no time.’
‘All right,’ called Angelina, ‘Fred, George, go and get your bats and a Bludger. Ron, get up to the goalposts. Harry, release the Snitch when I say so. We're going to aim for Ron's goal, obviously.’
Harry zoomed off after the twins to fetch the Snitch.
‘Ron's making a right pig's ear of things, isn't he?’ muttered George, as the three of them landed at the crate containing the balls and opened it to extract one of the Bludgers and the Snitch.
‘He's just nervous,’ said Harry, ‘he was fine when I was practising with him this morning.’
‘Yeah, well, I hope he hasn't peaked too soon,’ said Fred gloomily.
They returned to the air. When Angelina blew her whistle, Harry released the Snitch and Fred and George let fly the Bludger. From that moment on, Harry was barely aware of what the others were doing. It was his job to recapture the tiny fluttering golden ball that was worth a hundred and fifty points to the Seeker's team and doing so required enormous speed and skill. He accelerated, rolling and swerving in and out of the Chasers, the warm autumn air whipping his face, and the distant yells of the Slytherins so much meaningless roaring in his ears ... but too soon, the whistle brought him to a halt again.
‘Stop—stop— STOP!’ screamed Angelina. ‘Ron—you're not covering your middle post!’
Harry looked round at Ron, who was hovering in front of the left-hand hoop, leaving the other two completely unprotected.
‘Oh ... sorry ...’
‘You keep shifting around while you're watching the Chasers!’ said Angelina. ‘Either stay in centre position until you have to move to defend a hoop, or else circle the hoops, but don't drift vaguely off to one side, that's how you let in the last three goals!’
‘Sorry ...’ Ron repeated, his red face shining like a beacon against the bright blue sky.
‘And Katie, can't you do something about that nosebleed?’
‘It's just getting worse!’ said Katie thickly, attempting to stem the flow with her sleeve.
Harry glanced round at Fred, who was looking anxious and checking his pockets. He saw Fred pull out something purple, examine it for a second and then look round at Katie, evidently horror-struck.
‘Well, let's try again,’ said Angelina. She was ignoring the Slytherins, who had now set up a chant of ‘Gryffindor are losers, Gryffindor are losers,’ but there was a certain rigidity about her seat on the broom nevertheless.
This time they had been flying for barely three minutes when Angelinas whistle sounded. Harry, who had just sighted the Snitch circling the opposite goalpost, pulled up feeling distinctly aggrieved.
‘What now?’ he said impatiently to Alicia, who was nearest.
‘Katie,’ she said shortly.
Harry turned and saw Angelina, Fred and George all flying as fast as they could towards Katie. Harry and Alicia sped towards her, too. It was plain that Angelina had stopped training just in time; Katie was now chalk white and covered in blood.
‘She needs the hospital wing,’ said Angelina.
‘We'll take her,’ said Fred. ‘She—er—might have swallowed a Blood Blisterpod by mistake—’
‘Well, there's no point continuing with no Beaters and a Chaser gone,’ said Angelina glumly as Fred and George zoomed off towards the castle supporting Katie between them. ‘Come on, let's go and get changed.’
The Slytherins continued to chant as they trailed back into the changing rooms.
‘How was practice?’ asked Hermione rather coolly half an hour later, as Harry and Ron climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room.
‘It was—’ Harry began.
‘Completely lousy,’ said Ron in a hollow voice, sinking into a chair beside Hermione. She looked up at Ron and her frost mess seemed to melt.
‘Well, it was only your first one,’ she said consolingly, ‘it's bound to take time to—’
‘Who said it was me who made it lousy?’ snapped Ron.
‘No one,’ said Hermione, looking taken aback, ‘I thought—’
‘You thought I was bound to be rubbish?’
‘No, of course I didn't! Look, you said it was lousy so I just—’
‘I'm going to get started on some homework,’ said Ron angrily and stomped off to the staircase to the boys’ dormitories and vanished from sight. Hermione turned to Harry.
‘Was he lousy?’
‘No,’ said Harry loyally.
Hermione raised her eyebrows.
‘Well, I suppose he could've played better,’ Harry muttered, ‘but it was only the first training session, like you said ...’
Neither Harry nor Ron seemed to make much headway with their homework that night. Harry knew Ron was too preoccupied with how badly he had performed at Quidditch practice and he himself was having difficulty in getting the ‘Gryffindor are losers’ chant out of his head.
They spent the whole of Sunday in the common room, buried in ! heir books while the room around them filled up, then emptied. It was another clear, fine day and most of their fellow Gryffindors spent the day out in the grounds, enjoying what might well be some of the last sunshine that year. By the evening, Harry felt as though somebody had been beating his brain against the inside of his skull.
‘You know, we probably should try and get more homework done during the week,’ Harry muttered to Ron, as they finally laid aside Professor McGonagall's long essay on the Inanimatus Conjurus Spell and turned miserably to Professor Sinistra's equally long and difficult essay about Jupiter's many moons.
‘Yeah,’ said Ron, rubbing slightly bloodshot eyes and throwing his fifth spoiled bit of parchment into the fire beside them. ‘Listen ... shall we just ask Hermione if we can have a look at what she's done?’
Harry glanced over at her; she was sitting with Crookshanks on her lap and chatting merrily to Ginny as a pair of knitting needles flashed in midair in front of her, now knitting a pair of shapeless elf socks.
‘No,’ he said heavily, ‘you know she won't let us.’
And so they worked on while the sky outside the windows became steadily darker. Slowly, the crowd in the common room began to thin again. At half past eleven, Hermione wandered over to them, yawning.
‘Nearly done?’
‘No,’ said Ron shortly.
‘Jupiter's biggest moon is Ganymede, not Callisto,’ she said, pointing over Ron's shoulder at a line in his Astronomy essay, ‘and it's Io that's got the volcanoes.’
‘Thanks,’ snarled Ron, scratching out the offending sentences.
‘Sorry, I only— ’
‘Yeah, well, if you've just come over here to criticise—’
‘Ron—’
‘I haven't got time to listen to a sermon, all right, Hermione, I'm up to my neck in it here— ’
‘No—look!’
Hermione was pointing to the nearest window. Harry and Ron both looked over. A handsome screech owl was standing on the windowsill, gazing into the room at Ron.
‘Isn't that Hermes?’ said Hermione, sounding amazed.
‘Blimey, it is!’ said Ron quietly, throwing down his quill and getting to his feet. ‘What's Percy writing to me for?’
He crossed to the window and opened it; Hermes flew inside, landed on Ron's essay and held out a leg to which a letter was attached. Ron took the letter off it and the owl departed at once, leaving inky footprints across Ron's drawing of the moon Io.
‘That's definitely Percy's handwriting,’ said Ron, sinking back into his chair and staring at the words on the outside of the scroll: Ronald Weasley, Gryffindor House, Hogwarts. He looked up at the other two. ‘What d'you reckon?’
‘Open it!’ said Hermione eagerly, and Harry nodded.
Ron unrolled the scroll and began to read. The further clown the parchment his eyes travelled, the more pronounced became his scowl. When he had finished reading, he looked disgusted. He thrust the letter at Harry and Hermione, who leaned towards each other to read it together:
Dear Ron,
I have only just heard (from no less a person than the Minister for Magic himself, who has it from your new teacher, Professor Umbridge) that you have become a Hogwarts prefect.
I was most pleasantly surprised when f heard this news and must firstly offer my congratulations. I must admit that I have always been afraid that you would take what we might call the ‘Fred and George’ route, rather than following in my footsteps, so you can imagine my feelings on hearing you have stopped flouting authority and have decided to shoulder some real responsibility.
But I want to give you more than congratulations, Ron, I want to give you some advice, which is why I am sending this at night rather than by the usual morning post. Hopefully, you will be able to read this away from prying eyes and avoid awkward questions.
From something the Minister let slip when telling me you are now a prefect, I gather that you are still seeing a lot of Harry Potter. I must tell you, Ron, that nothing could put you in danger of losing your badge more than continued fraternisation with that boy. Yes, I am sure you are surprised to hear this— no doubt you will say that Potter has always been Dumbledore's favourite—but I feel bound to tell you that Dumbledore may not be in charge at Hogwarts much longer and the people who count have a very different—and probably more accurate—view of Potter's behaviour. I shall say no more here, but if you look at the Daily Prophet tomorrow you will get a good idea of the way the wind is blowing—and see if you can spot yours truly!
Seriously, Ron, you do not want to be tarred with the same brush as Potter, it could be very damaging to your future prospects, and I am talking here about life after school, too. As you must be aware, given that our father escorted him to court, Potter had a disciplinary hearing this summer in front of the whole Wizengamot and he did not come out of it looking too good. He got off on a mere technicality, if you ask me, and many of the people I've spoken to remain convinced of his guilt.
It may be that you are afraid to sever ties with Potter—I know that he can be unbalanced and, for all I know, violent—but if you have any worries about this, or have spotted anything else in Potter's behaviour that is troubling you, I urge you to speak to Dolores Umbridge, a truly delightful woman who I know will be only too happy to advise you.
This leads me to my other bit of advice. As I have hinted above, Dumbledore's regime at Hogwarts may soon be over. Your loyalty, Ron, should be not to him, but to the school and the Ministry. I am very sorry to hear that, so far, Professor Umbridge is encountering very little co-operation from staff as she strives to make those necessary changes within Hogwarts that the Ministry so ardently desires (although she should find this easier from next week— again, see the Daily Prophet tomorrow!). I shall say only this—a student who shows himself willing to help Professor Umbridge now may be very well-placed for Head Boyship in a couple of years!
I am sorry that I was unable to see more of you over the summer. It pains me to criticise our parents, but I am afraid I can no longer live under their roof while they remain mixed up with the dangerous crowd around Dumbledore. (If you are writing to Mother at any point, you might tell her that a certain Sturgis Podmore, who is a great friend of Dumbledore's, has recently been sent to Azkaban for trespass at the Ministry. Perhaps that will open their eyes to the kind of petty criminals with whom they are currently rubbing shoulders.) I count myself very lucky to have escaped the stigma of association with such people—the Minister really could not be more gracious to me—and I do hope, Ron, that you will not allow family ties to blind you to the misguided nature of our parents’ beliefs and actions, either. I sincerely hope that, in time, they will realise how mistaken they were and I shall, of course, be ready to accept a full apology when that day comes.
Please think over what I have said most carefully, particularly the bit about Harry Potter, and congratulations again on becoming prefect.
Your brother,
Percy
Harry looked up at Ron.
‘Well,’ he said, trying to sound as though he found the whole thing a joke, ‘if you want to—er —what is it?'—he checked Percy's letter—'Oh yeah—"sever ties” with me, I swear I won't get violent.’
‘Give it back,’ said Ron, holding out his hand. ‘He is—’ Ron said jerkily, tearing Percy's letter in half ‘the world's—’ he tore it into quarters ‘biggest—’ he tore it into eighths ‘git.’ He threw the pieces into the fire.
‘Come on, we've got to get this finished sometime before dawn,’ he said briskly to Harry, pulling Professor Sinistra's essay back towards him.
Hermione was looking at Ron with an odd expression on her face.
‘Oh, give them here,’ she said abruptly.
‘What?’ said Ron.
‘Give them to me, I'll look through them and correct them,’ she said.
‘Are you serious? Ah, Hermione, you're a life-saver,’ said Ron, ‘what can I—?’
‘What you can say is, “We promise we'll never leave our homework this late again,” ’ she said, holding out both hands for their essays, but she looked slightly amused all the same.
‘Thanks a million, Hermione,’ said Harry weakly, passing over his essay and sinking back into his armchair, rubbing his eyes.
It was now past midnight and the common room was deserted but for the three of them and Crookshanks. The only sound was that of Hermione's quill scratching out sentences here and there on their essays and the ruffle of pages as she checked various facts in the reference books strewn across the table. Harry was exhausted. He also felt an odd, sick, empty feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with tiredness and everything to do with the letter now curling blackly in the heart of the fire.
He knew that half the people inside Hogwarts thought him strange, even mad; he knew that the Daily Prophet had been making snide allusions to him for months, but there was something about seeing it written down like that in Percy's writing, about knowing that Percy was advising Ron to drop him and even to tell tales about him to Umbridge, that made his situation real to him as nothing else had. He had known Percy for four years, had stayed in his house during the summer holidays, shared a tent with him during the Quidditch World Cup, had even been awarded full marks by him in the second task of the Triwizard Tournament last year, yet now, Percy thought him unbalanced and possibly violent.
And with a surge of sympathy for his godfather, Harry thought Sirius was probably the only person he knew who could really understand how he felt at the moment, because Sirius was in the same situation. Nearly everyone in the wizarding world thought Sirius a dangerous murderer and a great Voldemort supporter and he had had to live with that knowledge for fourteen years ...
Harry blinked. He had just seen something in the fire that could not have been there. It had flashed into sight and vanished immediately. No ... it could not have been ... he had imagined it because he had been thinking about Sirius ...
‘OK, write that down,’ Hermione said to Ron, pushing his essay and a sheet covered in her own writing back to Ron, ‘then add this conclusion I've written for you.’
‘Hermione, you are honestly the most wonderful person I've ever met,’ said Ron weakly, ‘and if I'm ever rude to you again—’
‘—I'll know you're back to normal,’ said Hermione. ‘Harry, yours is OK except for this bit at the end, I think you must have misheard Professor Sinistra, Europa's covered in ice, not mice—Harry?’
Harry had slid off his chair on to his knees and was now crouching on the singed and threadbare hearthrug, gazing into the flames.
‘Er—Harry?’ said Ron uncertainly. ‘Why are you down there?’
‘Because I've just seen Sirius's head in the fire,’ said Harry.
He spoke quite calmly; after all, he had seen Sirius's head in this very fire the previous year and talked to it, too; nevertheless, he could not be sure that he had really seen it this time ... it had vanished so quickly ...
‘Sirius's head?’ Hermione repeated. ‘You mean like when he wanted to talk to you during the Triwizard Tournament? But he wouldn't do that now, it would be too—Sirius!’
She gasped, gazing at the fire; Ron dropped his quill. There in the middle of the dancing flames sat Sirius's head, long dark hair failing around his grinning face.
‘I was starting to think you'd go to bed before everyone else had disappeared,’ he said. ‘I've been checking every hour.’
‘You've been popping into the fire every hour?’ Harry said, half-laughing.
‘Just for a few seconds to check if the coast was clear.’
‘But what if you'd been seen?’ said Hermione anxiously.
‘Well, I think a girl—first-year, by the look of her—might've get a glimpse of me earlier, but don't worry,’ Sirius said hastily, as Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth, ‘I was gone the moment she looked back at me and I'll bet she just thought I was an oddly-shaped log or something.’
‘But, Sirius, this is taking an awful risk—’ Hermione began.
‘You sound like Molly,’ said Sirius. ‘This was the only way I could come up with of answering Harry's letter without resorting to a code—and codes are breakable.’
At the mention of Harry's letter, Hermione and Ron both turned to stare at him.
‘You didn't say you'd written to Sirius! said Hermione accusingly.
‘I forgot,’ said Harry, which was perfectly true; his meeting with Cho in the Owlery had driven everything before it out of his mind. ‘Don't look at me like that, Hermione, there was no way anyone would have got secret information out of it, was there, Sirius?’
‘No, it was very good,’ said Sirius, smiling. ‘Anyway, we'd better be quick, just in case we're disturbed—your scar.’
‘What about—?’ Ron began, but Hermione interrupted him.
‘We'll tell you afterwards. Go on, Sirius.’
‘Well, I know it can't be fun when it hurts, but we don't think its anything to really worry about. It kept aching all last year, didn't it?’
‘Yeah, and Dumbledore said it happened whenever Voldemort was feeling a powerful emotion,’ said Harry, ignoring, as usual, Ron and Hermione's winces. ‘So maybe he was just, I dunno, really angry or something the night I had that detention.’
‘Well, now he's back it's bound to hurt more often,’ said Sirius.
‘So you don't think it had anything to do with Umbridge touching me when I was in detention with her?’ Harry asked.
‘I doubt it,’ said Sirius. ‘I know her by reputation and I'm sure she's no Death Eater—’
‘She's foul enough to be one,’ said Harry darkly, and Ron and Hermione nodded vigorously in agreement.
‘Yes, but the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters,’ said Sirius with a wry smile. ‘I know she's a nasty piece of work, though—you should hear Remus talk about her.’
‘Does Lupin know her?’ asked Harry quickly, remembering Umbridge's comments about dangerous half-breeds during her first lesson.
‘No,’ said Sirius, ‘but she drafted a bit of anti-werewolf legislation two years ago that makes it almost impossible for him to get a job.’
Harry remembered how much shabbier Lupin looked these days and his dislike of Umbridge deepened even further.
‘What's she got against werewolves?’ said Hermione angrily.
‘Scared of them, I expect,’ said Sirius, smiling at her indignation. ‘Apparently, she loathes part-humans; she campaigned to have merpeople rounded up and tagged last year, too. Imagine wasting your time and energy persecuting merpeople when there are little toerags like Kreacher on the loose.’
Ron laughed but Hermione looked upset.
‘Sirius!’ she said reproachfully. ‘Honestly, if you made a bit of an effort with Kreacher, I'm sure he'd respond. After all, you are the only member of his family he's got left, and Professor Dumbledore said—’
‘So, what are Umbridge's lessons like?’ Sirius interrupted. ‘Is she training you all to kill half-breeds?’
‘No,’ said Harry, ignoring Hermione's affronted look at being cut off in her defence of Kreacher. ‘She's not letting us use magic at all!’
‘All we do is read the stupid textbook,’ said Ron.
‘Ah, well, that figures,’ said Sirius. ‘Our information from inside the Ministry is that Fudge doesn't want you trained in combat.’
‘Trained in combat!’ repeated Harry incredulously. ‘What does he think we're doing here, forming some sort of wizard army?’
‘That's exactly what he thinks you're doing,’ said Sirius, ‘or, rather, that's exactly what he's afraid Dumbledore's doing—forming his own private army, with which he will be able to take on the Ministry of Magic.’
There was a pause at this, then Ron said, That's the most stupid thing I've ever heard, including all the stuff that Luna Lovegood comes out with.’
‘So we're being prevented from learning Defence Against the Dark Arts because Fudge is scared we'll use spells against the Ministry?’ said Hermione, looking furious.
‘Yep,’ said Sirius. ‘Fudge thinks Dumbledore will stop at nothing to seize power. He's getting more paranoid about Dumbledore by the day. It's a matter of time before he has Dumbledore arrested on some trumped-up charge.’
This reminded Harry of Percy's letter.
‘D'you know if there's going to be anything about Dumbledore in the Daily Prophet tomorrow? Ron's brother Percy reckons there will be—’
‘I don't know,’ said Sirius, ‘I haven't seen anyone from the Order all weekend, they're all busy. It's just been Kreacher and me here.’
There was a definite note of bitterness in Sirius's voice.
‘So you haven't had any news about Hagrid, either?’
‘Ah ...’ said Sirius, ‘well, he was supposed to be back by now, no one's sure what's happened to him.’ Then, seeing their stricken faces, he added quickly, ‘But Dumbledore's not worried, so don't you three get yourselves in a state; I'm sure Hagrid's fine.’
‘But if he was supposed to be back by now ...’ said Hermione in a small, anxious voice.
‘Madame Maxime was with him, we've been in touch with her and she says they got separated on the journey home—but there's nothing to suggest he's hurt or—well, nothing to suggest he's not perfectly OK.’
Unconvinced, Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged worried looks.
‘Listen, don't go asking too many questions about Hagrid,’ said Sirius hastily, ‘it'll just draw even more attention to the fact that he's not back and I know Dumbledore doesn't want that. Hagrid's tough, he'll be OK.’ And when they did not appear cheered by this, Sirius added, ‘When's your next Hogsmeade weekend, anyway? I was thinking, we got away with the dog disguise at the station, didn't we? I thought I could—’
‘NO!’ said Harry and Hermione together, very loudly.
‘Sirius, didn't you see the Daily Prophet?’ said Hermione anxiously.
‘Oh, that,’ said Sirius, grinning, ‘they're always guessing where I am, they haven't really got a clue—’
‘Yeah, but we think this time they have,’ said Harry. ‘Something Malfoy said on the train made us think he knew it was you, and his father was on the platform, Sirius— you know, Lucius Malfoy—so don't come up here, whatever you do. If Malfoy recognises you again—’
‘All right, all right, I've got the point,’ said Sirius. He looked most displeased. ‘Just an idea, thought you might like to get together.’
‘I would, I just don't want you chucked back in Azkaban!’ said Harry.
There was a pause in which Sirius looked out of the fire at Harry, a crease between his sunken eyes.
‘You're less like your father than I thought,’ he said finally, a definite coolness in his voice. ‘The risk would've been what made it fun for James.’
‘Look—’
‘Well, I'd better get going, I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs,’ said Sirius, but Harry was sure he was lying. ‘I'll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it?’
There was a tiny pop, and the place where Sirius's head had been was flickering flame once more.

珀西和大脚板

    第二天早晨，哈利是宿舍里第一个醒来的。他在床上躺了一会几，望着灰尘在从四柱床幔帐缝隙中透进来的那缕阳光中飞旋起舞，喜滋滋地想起了今天是星期六。新学期的第一个星期太漫长了，似乎永远熬不到尽头。就像一堂没完没了的魔法史课。

    四下里是一片熟睡中的寂静，那一缕阳光仿佛是刚刚打造出来的，看来天还刚刚亮。哈利拉开床周围的帘子，开始起床穿衣服。除了远处小鸟叽叽喳喳的啁啾，惟一的声音就是他那些格兰芬多同学缓慢、均匀的呼吸声。他小心翼翼地打开书包，拿出羊皮纸和羽毛笔，离开宿舍朝公共休息室走去。

    哈利径直走向已经熄灭的炉火旁他最喜欢的那张松松软软的旧扶手椅，舒舒服服地坐下来，展开羊皮纸，一边打量着房间里的情景。平常一天下来，公共休息室里总是散了一地的羊皮纸团、破旧的高布石、空原料罐和糖纸，现在这些垃圾都不见了，同样不见的还有赫敏织的那些家养小精灵的帽子。哈利模模糊糊地想，不知道现在有多少小精灵被释放了，也不管他们愿意不愿意，他一边这么想着一边打开墨水瓶的盖子，把羽毛笔伸进去蘸了蘸，然后让笔尖悬在光滑、泛黄的羊皮纸面上一英寸的地方，苦苦思索着？？一两分钟后，他发现自己在盯着空空的壁炉发呆，根本不知道该写些什么。

    他现在才理解罗恩和赫敏暑假里给他写信有多么难了。他怎么才能把刚过去的这一星期发生的每一件事都告诉小天狼星，并提出他迫不及待地想问的所有问题，同时又不能让潜在的偷信贼得到许多他不想让他们知道的情报呢？他一动不动地坐了一会儿，眼睛出神地望着壁炉，然后他终于拿定了主意，又把羽毛笔在墨水瓶里蘸了蘸，果断地在羊皮纸上写了起来。亲爱的伤风：希望你一切都好，回到这里的第一个星期糟糕极了，我真高兴终于到了周末。

    我们有了一位新的黑魔法防御术课老师，乌姆里奇教授。她差不多像你妈妈一样好。我今天写信给你，是因为去年夏天我写信告诉你的那件事昨晚又出现了，当时我正在乌姆里奇那里关禁闭。

    我们都很想念我们的那位最大的朋友，希望他能很快回来。

    请尽快回信。

    祝顺利。

    哈利哈利把信读了好几遍，竭力从一个局外人的角度来审视它。他觉得，光靠读这封信，局外人决不会知道他在说什么——　或在跟谁说话。他真希望小天狼星能够读懂关于海格的暗示，并告诉他们海格大概什么时候才能回来。哈利不想直接地问，担心会弓l起别人的过多注意，怀疑海格不在霍格沃茨会去做什么。

    这封信很短，相比之下所花的时间就很长了。在他写信的工夫，阳光已经慢慢照到屋子中间，现在他能隐约地听见楼上宿舍里的动静了。他小心地把羊皮纸封好，爬过肖像洞口，直奔猫头鹰棚屋去了。

    “如果我是你，我才不会走那条路呢。”正当哈利走在过道里时，差点没头的尼克突然从他面前的墙里飘了出来，惊得他不知所措，“皮皮鬼正在搞一个滑稽的玩笑，要捉弄下一个从走廊中间帕拉瑟胸像前面走过的人呢。”

    “是不是让帕拉瑟掉在那个人的头顶上？”哈利问。

    “太有趣了，确实如此，”差点没头的尼克用厌烦的声音说，“皮皮鬼从来玩不出什么巧妙精细的把戏。我得赶紧去找血人巴罗？？他大概能够制止这件事？？再见，哈利？？”

    “好的，再见。”哈利没有向右转，而是向左转，走了一条较远但更安全的路去-196　？猫头鹰棚屋。他走过一个又一个窗口，都能看到外面蔚蓝明亮的天空，这使他的心情越来越好，他待会儿还要参加训练，终于又能回到魁地奇球场了。

    什么东西蹭了他的脚脖子一下。他低头一看，只见管理员的那只瘦骨如柴的灰猫洛丽丝夫人悄没声儿地走了过去。它用两只灯泡般的黄眼睛盯着他看了片刻，然后钻到忧郁的威尔福雕像后面不见了。

    “我没做什么坏事。”哈利冲着它身后喊道。看它那样子，无疑是一只急急忙忙去找主人汇报的猫，而哈利不明白这是为什么。他完全有资格在一个星期六早晨到猫头鹰棚屋去呀。

    现在太阳已经高高地挂在天空，哈利走进棚屋时，没有玻璃的窗户晃得他睁不开眼睛。一道道银白色的阳光纵横交错地照进这个圆形房间，几百只猫头鹰栖息在椽木上，在早晨的光线中显得有点儿焦躁不安，有几只显然是刚从外面捕食回来。哈利伸长脖子寻找海德薇的身影时，脚下踩着细碎的动物骨头，铺着稻草的地面上发出嘎吱嘎吱的响声。

    “你在那儿。”他说，在靠近拱形天花板最顶部的地方看见了海德薇，“下来吧，我有一封信给你。”

    海德薇低低地叫了一声，展开巨大的白色翅膀飞下来落在他的肩头。“是的，我知道外面写的是‘伤风’，”哈利对它说，一边把信拿给它用嘴叼住，然后他也不知道为什么，又压低声音说，“但是给小天狼星的，明白吗？”海德薇眨了一下琥珀色的眼睛，哈利知道这表示它听明白了。

    “那就祝你一路平安。”哈利说着，带着它来到一扇窗口。海德薇用力蹬了一下他的胳膊，腾身跃起，飞到了外面明晃晃的晴朗天空中。他一直注视着它，直到它变成了一个小黑点，彻底消失不见了，然后他把目光转向海格的小屋，从这扇窗户正好可以看得很清楚，然而烟囱没有冒烟，窗帘拉得紧紧的，很明显仍然没有住人。

    禁林的树梢在微风中轻轻摇摆，哈利望着它们，享受着新鲜空气吹拂在脸上的愉快感觉，心里想着待会儿的魁地奇球训练？？就在这时，他看见了它——　一匹巨大的、爬行动物般的、带翅膀的马，跟那天拉着霍格沃茨马车的那些怪马一模一样。只见它像翼手龙一般将坚韧的黑色翅膀充分展开，忽地从树丛中飞了出来，如同一只奇异的巨鸟。它盘旋了一大圈，又忽地一头扎进树丛。整个事情发生得太快了，哈利简直不敢相信他看到的情景，只知道自己的心像打鼓一样怦怦地狂跳。

    身后猫头鹰棚屋的门开了。他吃惊地跳了起来，猛一转身，看见秋张手里拿着一封信和一个包裹。

    “你好。”哈利下意识地说。

    “噢？？你好。”她气喘吁吁地说，“我没想到这么早就有人上来了？？五分-197　？钟前我才想起今天是我妈妈的生日。”

    她举起手里的包裹。

    “噢。”哈利说。他的脑子里似乎一片混乱。他很想说几句好玩的、风趣的话，但脑海里闪过的却是刚才那匹可怕的长翅膀的怪马。

    “天气真不错。”他说着指了指窗外。他的五脏六腑似乎都因尴尬而缩成了一团。天气。他居然在谈天气？？“是啊。”秋说，一边东张西望寻找一只合适的猫头鹰，“正好适合打魁地奇球。我整个一星期都没出去，你呢？”

    “也没有。”哈利说。

    秋选中了学校的一只谷仓猫头鹰。她轻声唤它落到她的胳膊上，猫头鹰落定后顺从地伸出一只脚，让她把包裹系在上面。

    “对了，格兰芬多找到新的守门员了吗？”她问。

    “找到了，”哈利说，“是我的朋友罗恩韦斯莱，你认识他吗？”

    “就是那个讨厌龙卷风队的人？”秋很冷淡地说，“他有长处？”

    “是啊，”哈利说，“我想是的。不过我没有观看他的选拔，我被关禁闭了。”

    秋抬起头，包裹在猫头鹰腿上只系好了一半。

    “那个姓乌姆里奇的女人真讨厌，”她低声说，“就因为你讲了——　讲了——　讲了他遇难的实情，她就关你的禁闭。大家都听说了这件事，整个学校都传遍了。你能那样跟她针锋相对，真是很勇敢。”

    哈利的五脏六腑又一下子膨胀起来，速度之快，使他感到自己真的能从洒满鸟粪的地面上腾起几英寸呢。谁还在乎一匹愚蠢的飞马呢，秋认为他真是很勇敢。一闪念问，他甚至想趁着帮她往猫头鹰腿上系包裹的机会，故意假装不小心地让她看见他受伤的手背？？可是这个激动人心的想法刚刚冒头，猫头鹰棚屋的门又被推开了。

    管理员费尔奇呼哧呼哧地走了进来。他那塌陷的、脉络纵横的面颊涨得紫红，下巴上的垂肉抖个不停，稀疏的花白头发乱糟糟的。显然他是一路跑来的。洛丽丝夫人小跑着跟在他脚后，盯着头顶上的那些猫头鹰，饥饿地喵喵叫着。上面传来一片翅膀不安扇动的声音，一只很大的棕色猫头鹰气势汹汹地把嘴咂得嗒嗒直响。

    “啊哈！”费尔奇说，拖着脚朝哈利跨近一步，皮肉松弛的面颊气得直抖，“我得到了一个情报，你打算订购大批的大粪蛋！”

    哈利抱起双臂，瞪着管理员。

    “谁对你说我订购了大粪蛋？”

    秋望望哈利，又望望费尔奇，也皱起了眉头。她胳膊上的那只谷仓猫头鹰用一条腿站累了，警告地叫了一声，但秋没有理会。

    -198　？“我有我的情报来源。”费尔奇洋洋自得地咬着牙说，“现在把你要送的东西交出来。”

    哈利暗自庆幸自己没有拖延就把信寄走了，他说：“交不出来，已经走了。”

    “走了？”费尔奇说，气得五官都变了形。

    “走了。”哈利平静地说。

    费尔奇恼怒地张开嘴，嘴唇无声地开合了几秒钟，然后用眼睛扫视着哈利的长袍。

    “我怎么知道你没有装在口袋里呢？”

    “因为——　”

    “我看见他寄出去的。”秋气愤地说。

    费尔奇立刻把矛头对准了秋张。

    “你看见他——　？”

    “不错，我看见的。”她激动地说。

    片刻的静默，费尔奇瞪着秋，秋也瞪着费尔奇。然后管理员一转身，拖着脚朝门13走去。他的手停在门把手上，扭头望着哈利。

    “如果我闯到有大粪蛋的味儿？？”

    他嗵嗵嗵地下楼去了。洛丽丝夫人恋恋不舍地看了那些猫头鹰最后一眼。

    跟着他下去了。

    哈利和秋互相对望着。

    “谢谢。”哈利说。

    “没什么，”秋说，这才终于把包裹系在谷仓猫头鹰的另一条腿上，脸上微微泛着红晕，“你没有订购大粪蛋吧？”

    “没有。”哈利说。

    “真奇怪，那他怎么以为你订了？”她一边说一边抱着猫头鹰走向窗口。

    哈利耸了耸肩膀。他和她一样，也觉得这件事蹊跷得很，然而奇怪的是，他此刻并没有怎么把它放在心上。

    他们一起离开了猫头鹰棚屋。等他们走到一条通往城堡西区的走廊1：1时，秋说：“我要从这边走了。嗯，我？？我们再见吧，哈利。”

    “好的？？再见。”

    她朝他嫣然一笑，走了。哈利继续往前走，心里暗暗地一阵狂喜。他总算跟她有了一次完整的对话，并且没有感到尴尬？？你能那样跟她针锋相对，真是很勇敢？？秋说他勇敢？？她并没有因为他活着而恨他？？当然啦，她更喜欢塞德里克，他知道？？不过如果他抢在塞德里克之前邀请她参加圣诞舞会，事情可能会完全不同？？当哈利向她发出邀请时，她似乎是真心为自己不得不拒绝他而感到遗憾？？-199　？“早上好。”哈利来到礼堂，来到格兰芬多桌子旁罗恩和赫敏的身边，兴高采烈地对他们说。“你这么开心，有什么喜事啊？”罗恩吃惊地打量着哈利，问道。“嗯？？待会儿要打魁地奇球嘛。”哈利高兴地说，把一大盘咸肉和鸡蛋拖到自己面前。

    “噢？？是啊？？”罗恩说。他放下吃了一半的面包，喝了一大口南瓜汁，然后他说：“听着？？你愿意早一点儿跟我一起出去吗？就是——　嗯——　在训练前陪我练习练习？这样，　你知道的，我就能多少有点儿球感了。”

    “行啊。”哈利说。

    “慢着，我认为你们不应该这么做，”赫敏严肃地说，“你们俩都落下了一大堆家庭作业——　”

    可是她突然停住了话头。早晨的邮件来了，像平常一样，一只长耳猫头鹰叼着《预言家日报》朝她飞来，看着很危险地落在糖碗旁边，伸出了一条腿。赫敏把一个纳特塞进它的皮钱袋，拿过报纸，目光犀利地浏览着第一版，这时那只猫头鹰抖抖翅膀飞走了。

    “有什么有趣的内容吗？”罗恩问。哈利咧嘴笑了，知道罗恩是急于把赫敏从家庭作业的话题上引开。

    “没有，”她叹了口气，“都是关于古怪姐妹演唱组的低音乐器手结婚的无聊废话。”

    赫敏展开报纸，把自己挡在了后面。哈利又津津有昧地吃了一份鸡蛋和成肉。罗恩呆呆地望着高处的窗户，看上去好像有点儿心事。“等一等，”赫敏突然说道，“哦，糟糕？？小天狼星！”

    “出什么事了？”哈利说着一把抓过报纸，他用力太大，把报纸撕成了两半，他和赫敏各拿着一半。

    “魔法部从消息可靠人士那里获悉，小天狼星布莱克，那个臭名昭著的杀人魔王？？等等，等等？？目前就藏在伦敦！”

    赫敏忧心忡忡地小声读着她那一半报纸。

    “准是卢修斯马尔福，我敢打赌，”哈利压低声音气愤地说，“他在站台上确实认出了小天狼星？？”

    “什么？”罗恩显得很惊慌地说，“你该不是说——　”

    “嘘！”另外两个同时说。

    “？？魔法部提醒巫师界，布莱克十分危险？？杀害了十三个人？？从阿兹卡班越狱出逃？？”

    “又是平常那一套废话。”赫敏说完，放下她那一半报纸，忧虑地望着哈利和罗恩。“得，他又一步也不能离开房子了。”她小声说，“邓布利多确实提醒过他不-200　？要出门的。”哈利愁眉苦脸地望着他撕下来的那片《预言家日报》。那一页的大部分版面都被一则“摩金夫人长袍专卖店”的广告占据了，显然是在搞减价大甩卖。“嘿！”他说，把报纸摊在桌上，好让赫敏和罗恩也能看见，“看看这个！”“我各种袍子都有了。”罗恩说。“不是，”哈利说，“看？？这里这篇小文章？？”罗恩和赫敏低头细看。那篇文章还不到一英寸长，在那一栏的最下面，标题是：非法侵入魔法部斯多吉波德摩，现年三十八岁，家住克拉彭区金链花公园2号，日前在威森加摩接受审判，被控于8月31日非法侵入魔法部并企图实施抢劫。波德摩被魔法部的警卫埃里克芒奇抓获，芒奇发现他在凌晨一点企图闯过一道一级保密门。波德摩拒绝为自己辩护，被判两项指控成立，在阿兹卡班监禁六个月。“斯多吉波德摩？”罗恩慢慢地说，“就是那个头上像顶着一堆稻草的家伙，是吗？他是凤凰社的——　”　“罗恩，嘘！”赫敏说，一边惊恐地望望四周。“在阿兹卡班监禁六个月！”哈利十分震惊，低声说道，“就因为企图闯过一道门！”“别傻了，不只是因为企图闯过一道门。他凌晨一点钟跑到魔法部去做什么呢？”赫敏压低声音说。“你们说他会不会是在给凤凰社做事呢？”罗恩小声而含混不清地阀。。　“等一下？？”哈利慢慢地说，“斯多吉那天是应该来送我们的，记得吗？”另外两个人都看着他。“是啊，他应该是护送我们去国王十字车站的警卫之一，记得吗？就因为他没有露面，穆迪恼火得要命。所以他不可能是在为他们办事，对吗？”“那，也许他们没想到他会被捕。”赫敏说。“这也许是诬陷！”罗恩激动地嚷了起来，“不——　你们听着！”看到赫敏脸上威胁的表情，他戏剧性地突然降低声音，继续说道，“魔法部怀疑他是邓布利多一伙的，所以——　大概是吧——　他们就把他引诱到魔法部，他根本就没有企图闻过一道门！也许他们是在故意编造一些借口，好把他抓起来！”　哈利和赫敏沉默了片刻，思索着他的话。哈利认为这似乎有点牵强附会，但赫敏却显得很感兴趣。

    “知道吗，如果真是这样，我一点也不会感到吃惊。”

    她若有所思地叠着她那半张报纸。当哈利放下手中的刀叉时，她仿佛突然从沉思中惊醒过来。

    “啊，对了，我想，我们应该先写斯普劳特布置的那篇自株传粉灌木的论文，如果顺利的话，还可以在午饭前开始练习麦格教授的非动物召唤咒？？”

    哈利想到楼上等着他的那一大堆家庭作业，心里感到有一点儿内疚，可是外面的天空那样清澈、蔚蓝，令人心旷神恰，而他已经一个星期没有骑他的火弩箭了？？“我是说，我们可以今天晚上再做。”罗恩说，这时他和哈利走下草坡，直奔魁地奇球场。他们肩膀上扛着飞天扫帚，耳边依然回响着赫敏严峻的警告，说他们的O.w.Ls考试肯定会门门不及格。“我们还有明天呢。她太把功课放在心上了，那是她的毛病？？”顿了一下，他又用微微有些不安的声音说，“她说不让我们抄她的，你认为她真的会说到做到吗？”

    “是啊，我想会的，”哈利说，“但是这个也很重要啊，如果我们想留在魁地奇球队里，就必须多加练习？？”

    “是啊，没错，”罗恩说，语气一下子振作起来，“我们有的是时间做这些事？？”

    他们走近魁地奇球场时，哈利朝右边望去，远处禁林里的树木黑黢黢的，随风微微摇摆。不见有东西从里面飞出来，天空中什么也没有，只有几只猫头鹰远远地在猫头鹰棚屋周围盘旋。他需要操心的事情已经够多了，那匹飞马又没有对他造成什么伤害。于是，他把它从脑子里赶了出去。

    他们在更衣室的橱柜里拿了球开始练习，罗恩守住那三根球门柱，哈利充当追球手，想办法让鬼飞球突破罗恩的封锁。哈利认为罗恩的表现相当不错，哈利试图破门进球，但他进攻的球有四分之三都被罗恩挡了出来，而且他的状态越来越好。两个小时后，他们返回城堡吃午饭——　饭桌上赫敏明确地告诉他们，她认为他们没有责任感——　然后他们又回到魁地奇球场，开始真正的训练。他们走进更衣室时，除了安吉利娜，其他队友都已经在里面了。

    “怎么样，罗恩？”乔治说，冲他眨了眨眼睛。“还好。”罗恩说，在走向球场的一路上，他的话越来越少。“准备在我们面前露一手，小不点儿级长？”弗雷德说，毛蓬蓬的脑袋从魁地奇球袍的领口钻出来，脸上带着一丝坏笑。“闭嘴。”罗恩板着脸说，第一次穿上了他自己的队袍。袍子穿在身上还挺合适的，要知道这以前可是奥利弗伍德的袍子，伍德的肩膀比罗恩宽得多。

    “好了，诸位，”安吉利娜从队长办公室走进来，已经换好了衣服，“我们开始吧。艾丽娅，弗雷德，劳驾你们帮大家把球箱子搬出去。噢，外面有几个人在观看，我希望你们只当没看见，好吗？”

    -202　？她的语气故意显得很随便，这使哈利觉得自己已经猜到那些不请自来的观众是谁了。果然，当他们离开更衣室来到外面阳光灿烂的球场时，突然听到一阵尖叫声和嘲笑声，是斯莱特林魁地奇球队的队员和一些五花八门的追随者，他们聚集在空荡荡的看台中央，声音在露天球场周围响亮地回荡着。

    “那个韦斯莱骑的是什么玩意儿？”马尔福用他冷嘲热讽、拖腔拖调的声音说，“　怎么居然有人给那么一根发霉的破木头念飞行咒呢？”

    克拉布、高尔和潘西帕金森粗声大笑，尖声狂叫。罗恩骑上自己的扫帚，蹬离了地面，哈利跟着他，从后面看见他的两只耳朵越来越红。

    “别理他们，”他一边说一边加快速度追上罗恩，“等到跟他们比完赛，我们就会看到谁在笑了？？”

    “我要的就是这个态度，哈利。”安吉利娜赞许地说。她胳膊底下夹着一只鬼飞球，飞着绕过他们，然后放慢速度，停在她半空中的队员们前面。“好了，诸位，我们先传几个球热热身，所有队员注意——　”

    “喂，约翰逊，你那个发型是怎么回事呀？”潘西帕金森在下面尖声尖气地问，“怎么居然有人愿意让自己看上去像是有蚯蚓从脑袋里钻出来呢？，‘安吉利娜把挡在脸前的长辫子甩到脑后，继续平静地说：”现在散开，看看我们做得怎么样？？“

    哈利一转身离开了其他人，来到球场的那一端。罗恩退向对面的球门。安吉利娜一只手举起鬼飞球，使劲朝弗雷德扔去，弗雷德传给乔治，乔治传给哈利，哈利再传给罗恩，罗恩没有接住。

    那些斯莱特林们由马尔福打头，又是笑又是叫。罗恩猛地冲向地面，好赶在鬼飞球落地前把它抓住。他停止俯冲时的动作拖泥带水，差点从扫帚上滑下去，然后他满脸通红地重新升到传球高度。哈利看见弗雷德和乔治交换了一下眼色，但破天荒第一次他们谁也没说什么，哈利感到松了口气。

    “继续传，罗恩。”安吉利娜说，只当什么事也没发生。罗恩把鬼飞球扔给艾丽娅，艾丽娅又传给哈利，哈利传给乔治？？“喂，波特，你的伤疤感觉怎么样？”马尔福喊道，“你真的不需要躺下来休息休息吗？你肯定有整整一个星期没上医院了吧，这次可是破记录了，是吧？”

    乔治把球传给了安吉利娜，安吉利娜回手传给了哈利，哈利没想到会传给自己，但还是用手指尖把球接住了，飞快地传给罗恩，罗恩扑过去接球，差几英寸没接住。

    “别这样，罗恩，”安吉利娜看到罗恩又俯冲到地面去追鬼飞球，恼火地说，“多留点儿神！”

    当罗恩重新升到传球高度时，很难说清是他的脸还是鬼飞球红得更厉害。马尔福和斯莱特林球队的其他球员爆发出一阵哄笑。

    -203　？第三次，罗恩接住了鬼飞球。也许是因为松了口气，他传球出去的时候太激动了，球直接飞过凯蒂张开的双手，重重地撞在她脸上。“对不起！”罗恩呻吟着说，嗖地飞过去看凯蒂伤得重不重。“回到原位，她没事！”安吉利娜吼道，“但你是传球给队友，别想着把她从扫帚上打下去，行吗？这件事有游走球来做呢！”　凯蒂的鼻子流血了。下面斯莱特林们又是跺脚又是嘲笑。弗雷德和乔治向凯蒂靠拢过去。“给，把这个吃了，”弗雷德从口袋里掏出一个紫色的小东西递给她，说道，“很快血就会止住的。”

    “好吧，”安吉利娜说，“弗雷德、乔治，去拿你们的球棒和一只游走球来。罗恩，快到球门柱那儿去。哈利，一听到我的命令，就把金色飞贼放出去。我们要开始进攻罗恩的球门了。”

    哈利跟着双胞胎飞下去取金色飞贼。“罗恩把事情弄得一团糟，是吧？”乔治低声说，他们三个降落在装球的箱子旁边，打开箱子取出了一只游走球和那只金色飞贼。“他只是太紧张了。”哈利说，“今天上午我陪他练习时，他挺好的。”“哦，那我希望他不会这么快就过了高峰期。”弗雷德担忧地说。

    他们回到了空中。安吉利娜一吹哨子，哈利放开金色飞贼，弗雷德和乔治松手让游走球飞了出去。从那一刻起，哈利就不太知道其他人在做什么了。他的任务是抓住那只振翅飞翔的小金球，那可以给自己的球队净挣一百五十分呢。要做到这点，需要有过人的速度和精湛的技巧。他加快速度，在追球手们之间灵巧地蹿进蹿出，温暖的秋风吹拂着他的脸，远处斯莱特林们的叫嚷在他耳边回响，但已经不再有任何意义？？可是没过一会儿，哨声吹响，他只好又停住了。

    “停下—　_停下——　停下！”安吉利娜尖叫道，“罗恩——　你没有守住中间！”哈利转脸去看罗恩，只见他盘旋在左边的圆环前，另外两个圆环完全无人防守①。“哦？？对不起？？”

    “你得一边盯着追球手，一边不停地挪来挪去！”安吉利娜说，“要么守在中间，等必须防守某个圆环时再移动，要么就绕着三个圆环盘旋，千万不能莫名其妙地移到一边去，刚才那三个球就是这样漏进去的！”

    “对不起？？”罗恩又说了一遍，他的脸在蔚蓝色天空的衬托下，像烽火台一样红得发亮。

    ①关于魁地奇球运动的具体规则，请见《神奇的魁地奇球》一书，人民文学出版社。2001年lO月版。

    -204　？“还有凯蒂，你就不能想点办法止住鼻血吗？”“越来越厉害了！”凯蒂声音发闷地说，一边用袖子堵住不断流出的鲜血。哈利扭头去看弗雷德，只见他神色紧张，正在检查自己的口袋。哈利看见弗雷德掏出一个紫色的东西，仔细看了一秒钟，然后回过头去看着凯蒂，显然被吓坏了。

    “好了，我们再试一试。”安吉利娜说。斯莱特林们现在齐声合唱“格兰芬多输惨了，格兰芬多输惨了”，安吉利娜假装没有听见，但她骑在扫帚上的姿势显然有点儿僵硬。

    这次他们刚飞了不到三分钟，安吉利娜的哨子就又响了。哈利刚看见金色飞贼在对面球门柱周围飞速盘旋，但也只好停下来，心里明显感到很懊丧。“又怎么啦？”他不耐烦地问离他最近的艾丽娅。“凯蒂。”她简洁地回答。哈利一转脸，看见安吉利娜、弗雷德和乔治都拼命朝凯蒂飞去。哈利和艾丽娅也迅速赶了过去。看来安吉利娜停止训练的命令下得还算及时，凯蒂的脸色自得像一张纸，身上血迹斑斑。“她需要上医院。”安吉利娜说。“我们送她去吧。”弗雷德说，“她——　嗯——　大概是误吃了一颗血崩豆——　”　“唉，少了击球手和一个追球手，再继续训练也没有什么意思了。”安吉利娜板着脸说，弗雷德和乔治一左一右搀扶着凯蒂朝城堡飞去，“走吧，我们去换衣服。”他们没精打采地走回更衣室，斯莱特林们还在大声唱个不停。“训练怎么样？”半小时后哈利和罗恩从肖像洞口钻进格兰芬多公共休息室，赫敏很冷淡地问道。“还算——　”哈利刚想说话。“完全搞砸了。”罗恩声音空洞地说，一屁股坐在赫敏旁边的椅子上。赫敏抬头看了看罗恩，冷淡的态度似乎缓和了些。“没关系，你这是第一次参加训练，”她安慰道，“肯定需要时间——　”　“谁说是我把训练弄砸的？”罗恩没好气地问。“没有谁呀，”赫敏说，看上去大吃了一惊，“我以为——　”　“你以为我注定就是废物吗？”“不，我当然不是这样想的！瞧，你说训练搞砸了，所以我就——　”　“我要去做家庭作业了，”罗恩气呼呼地说，重重地走向通往男生宿舍的楼梯，身体一闪消失了。赫敏转向哈利。“是他搞砸的吗？”“不是。”哈利忠诚地维护朋友。

    -205　？赫敏扬起眉毛。

    “唉，我想他可以表现得更好一些，”哈利喃喃地说，“但就像你说的，这只是第一次训练？？”

    那天晚上，哈利和罗恩在家庭作业上都没有取得多少进展。哈利知道罗恩脑子里尽想着他在魁地奇球训练时的糟糕表现，他自己也很难把“格兰芬多输惨了”的歌声从脑子里赶走。

    整个星期天，他们都待在公共休息室里，埋头书本，房间里先是挤满了人，然后又都走空了。这又是晴朗宜人的一天，格兰芬多的大多数同学都在外面的场地上享受也许是今年的最后一点阳光。到了晚上，哈利觉得仿佛有人在他的脑壳里使劲敲打他的脑袋。

    “我们确实应该在平常尽量多做掉一些作业。”哈利低声对罗恩说，他们终于结束了麦格教授的那篇关于非动物召唤咒的长篇论文，开始苦巴巴地对付辛尼斯塔教授那篇同样难、同样长的论文，是关于木星的许多卫星的。

    “是啊，”罗恩说着揉了揉微微充血的眼睛，把第五张作废的羊皮纸扔进了旁边的炉火里，“哎？？我们要不去问问赫敏，能不能让我们看看她写的论文？”

    哈利朝赫敏望去。她正坐在那里跟金妮愉快地聊天，克鲁克山蜷缩在她的腿上，两根织针悬在她面前来回穿梭，正在织一双怪模怪样的小精灵袜子。“不行，”他语气沉重地说，“你知道她不会让我们看的。”　于是他们继续绞尽脑汁地想啊写啊，窗外的天空越来越黑，渐渐地，公共休息室里的人又开始变得稀少起来。到了十一点半，赫敏打着哈欠朝他们走来。

    “快做完了吧？”

    “没有。”罗恩没好气地说。

    “木星最大的卫星是木卫三，不是木卫四，”她从罗恩身后指着他那篇天文学论文中的一行文字说道，“有火山的应该是木卫一。”

    “谢谢。”罗恩凶巴巴地说，把那个写错的句子重重划去了。

    “对不起，我只是——　”

    “是啊，如果你只是到这里来挑毛病的——　”

    “罗恩——　”

    “我没有时间听你唠唠叨叨地教训人，好吗，赫敏，我这里已经忙得不可开交了——　”

    “不——　快看！”赫敏指着离他们最近的那扇窗户。哈利和罗恩都抬头看去。一只漂亮的长耳猫头鹰站在窗台上，瞪大眼睛看着屋里的罗恩。

    “这是赫梅斯吗？”赫敏问，显得很惊愕。

    “天哪，正是它！”罗恩小声说，扔下羽毛笔，站了起来，“珀西怎么会给我写信呢？”

    -206　？他走过去打开窗户，赫梅斯飞了进来，落在罗恩的论文上，伸出一条腿，上面系着一封信。罗恩把信解了下来，猫头鹰立刻就飞走了，在罗恩画的木卫一上留下沾着墨水的脚印。

    “没错，这肯定是珀西的笔迹。”罗恩说，一屁股坐回椅子上，瞪着羊皮纸卷外的几行字：霍格沃茨，格兰芬多学院，罗恩韦斯莱。他抬头望着哈利和赫敏。“你们怎么看？”

    “打开！”赫敏急切地说，哈利点点头。

    罗恩打开纸卷看了起来。他的目光顺着羊皮纸一行一行地扫下去，眉头皱得越来越紧。看完信后，他脸上一副厌恶的神情。他把信塞给哈利和赫敏，他们俩凑在一起同时看了起来。

    亲爱的罗恩：我刚刚才听说（从魔法部部长本人那里获悉，他是昕你们的新老师乌姆里奇教授说的）你已经成为霍格沃茨的一名级长了。

    听到这个消息，我非常高兴和意外，在此先表示对你的祝贺。我必须承认，我一直担心你会走上我们所谓的“弗雷德和乔治”的道路，而不是跟随我的足迹，因此你可以想象，当我听说你终于不再藐视权威，并决心真正肩负起一些责任时，我心里是何等的快慰。

    但是，罗恩，我想要给你的不仅仅是祝贺，我还想给你一些忠告，因此我是在夜里寄这封信的，不是通过平常的早晨邮件递送。我希望你能避开别人的刺探读这封信，避免遇到令人尴尬的提问。部长告诉我你被选为级长时漏了点口风，我听出你现在还经常跟哈利。波特泡在一起。我必须告诉你，罗恩，如果你继续和那个男孩打得火热，就极有危险丢掉你的级长徽章。是的，我相信你听了这话会感到吃惊——　你无疑会说波特一直是邓布利多的得意门生——　可是我觉得我有必要告诉你，邓布利多在霍格沃茨当权的日子可能不会很长了，权威人士对波特的行为有着截然不同——　也许更加准确——　的看法。我这里不便多说，但如果你看了明天的《预言家日报》，就会清楚地明白现在的风向——　看你是不是能够确定自己的立场！严肃地说，罗恩，你不应该与波特成为一路货色，这可能对你未来的前途十分不利，我这里说的还有走出校门以后的人生。你肯定知道，因为是我们的父亲陪他去法庭的，波特今年夏天受到整个威森加摩的审讯，而他是侥幸才逃脱罪责的。我个人认为，他是凭借技巧才勉强脱身，与我交谈过的许多人都仍然相信他是有罪的。也许你不敢与波特断绝关系——　我知道他可能已精神错乱，而且据我所知，还有暴力倾向——　如果你确实有这方面的顾虑，或发现波特的举止还-207　？有令你感到不安的地方，我恳请你找多洛雷斯鸟姆里奇谈谈，她是一个十分可爱随和的女人，我知道她一定很乐意给你一些忠告。说到这里，我不妨再给你一点告诫。正如我前面提到过的，邓布利多在霍格沃茨掌权的日子可能很快就要结束了。罗恩，你不应该效忠于他，而应该效忠于学校和魔法部。我十分遗憾地听说，迄今为止，乌姆里奇教授努力在霍格沃茨贯彻魔法部极力倡导的变革时，居然很少得到其他教员的支持合作。（不过她下个星期就会发现工作更容易开展了——　同样请看明天的《预言家日报》！）我只想说明一点——　如果某个学生眼下表现出愿意帮助乌姆里奇教授，两午后便很有可能成为男生学生会主席！很遗憾我暑假里未能经常看见你。我很不愿意批评我们的父母，但如果他们继续跟邓布利多周围那帮危险人物混在一起，我恐怕再也不能与他们生活在同一个屋檐下了。（如果你什么时候给母亲写信，不妨告诉她说，有一个叫斯多吉波德摩的人，是邓布利多的密友，最近因非法侵入魔法部而被送进了阿兹卡班。也许这会使他们看清他们目前交往的都是怎样一些下三烂的罪犯。）我认为自己十分幸运地及时摆脱了与这帮人为伍的耻辱——　部长对我真是宽宏大量——　因此我真心希望，罗恩，你也不要让亲情蒙蔽了你的双眼，看不清我们父母的信仰和行为的错误性质。我真诚地希望，他们总有一天会认识到自己错了，当然，当那一天到来时，我将很愿意接受他们由衷的道歉。

    请十分慎重地考虑我说的话，特别是关于哈利波特的那些，再次祝贺你当选级长。你的哥哥珀西哈利抬头看着罗恩。“嗯，”他说，努力使声音听上去似乎他觉得整个事情都非常可笑，“如果你想——　嗯——　怎么说来着？”——　他看了看珀西的信——　“噢，对了——　跟我‘断绝关系’，我发誓我绝不会有暴力倾向。”

    “把信还给我，”罗恩伸出手说，“他是——　”罗恩冲动地说，一把将珀西的信撕成两半，“世界上——　”他将信撕成四片，“最大的——　”他将信撕成八片，“傻瓜。”他把碎纸片扔进了炉火。

    “来吧，我们得在天亮前把这东西写完。”他轻快地对哈利说，把辛尼斯塔教授的论文又拉到面前。赫敏望着罗恩，脸上的表情有些古怪。“哦，把它们拿过来。”她突然说道。“什么？”罗恩说。

    -208　？“把它们给我，我看一遍，修改一下。”她说。

    “你说的是真的？啊，赫敏，你真是一个救命恩人，”罗恩说，“我该说什么——　”

    “你只要说：”我们保证再也不把家庭作业拖到这么晚了。“‘她说着伸出两只手接过他们的论文，但她还是显得挺愉快的。

    “万分感谢，赫敏。”哈利疲倦地说，把论文递了过去，瘫坐在他的扶手椅上揉着眼睛。

    时间已过午夜，公共休息室里空荡荡的，只有他们三个和克鲁克山。四下里一片寂静，只听见赫敏的羽毛笔在他们的论文上这里那里划去一些句子的声音，还有她查找摊在桌上的那些参考书、核实一些细节时翻动书页的声音。哈利累极了。他还感到内心有一种空落落的、不舒服的异样感觉，这感觉跟疲劳没有关系，而跟此刻在炉火里卷成黑色灰烬的那封信大有关系。

    他知道霍格沃茨校内一半的人都认为他很古怪，甚至疯狂。他知道《预言家日报》几个月来一直别有用心地在提及他，但是此刻看见珀西信里白纸黑字地写着那样的话，得知珀西建议罗恩与他断绝关系，甚至到乌姆里奇那里去告他的状，他这才第一次真真切切地认识到自己的处境。他已经认识珀西四年了，暑假曾住在他们家里，魁地奇球世界杯赛时还跟他合住一个帐篷，甚至在上学期的三强争霸赛的第二个项目中，还从他那里得到过满分，然而现在，珀西认为他精神错乱，还可能有暴力倾向。

    哈利心头油然涌起一阵对教父的同情，他想，在他认识的人当中，也许只有小天狼星一个人能够真正理解他目前的感受，因为小天狼星的处境和他一样。巫师界里几乎人人都认为小天狼星是一个危险的杀人犯，是伏地魔的得力拥护者，他曾不得不顶着这样的罪名生活了十四年？？哈利眨了眨眼睛。他刚才在炉火里看到了一样东西，一样绝不可能在那里出现的东西。它突然闪现出来，又立刻消失了。不？？不可能？？一定是他的幻觉，因为他正在想着小天狼星？？“好了，把这个抄下来，”赫敏对罗恩说，把他的论文和一张她写满文字的纸推还给罗恩，“再加上我给你写的这个结尾。”

    “赫敏，你真是我有生以来遇见的最优秀的人，”罗恩有气无力地说，“如果我再敢对你耍态度——　”

    “——　我就知道你又恢复正常了。”赫敏说，“哈利，你的没问题，只是最后这里，我想你肯定是把辛尼斯塔教授的话听错了，木卫二上覆盖着冰雪，而不是老鼠①——　哈利？”

    ①在英语里，冰（ice）和老鼠（mice）读音相近。

    -209　？哈利已经从椅子上滑下来跪在了地上，这时他正俯身趴在壁炉前布满焦痕和绽线的地毯上，直瞪瞪地望着火苗。“哦——　哈利？”罗恩不安地问，“　你在那下面做什么？”　“我刚才在火里看见小天狼星的头了。”哈利说。

    他说得很平静。毕竟，他上学期就在这个壁炉里看见过小天狼星的头，而且还跟它说过话。但他不能肯定这次是不是真的看见了它？？它刚才消失得太快了？？“小天狼星的头？”赫敏重复了一遍，“你是说就像三强争霸赛期间他想跟你说话的时候那样？可是他现在不会那么做的，那太——　小天狼星！”

    她倒吸了一口气，盯着炉火。罗恩丢下手里的羽毛笔。在跳动的火苗中央，赫然出现了小天狼星的头，长长的黑发垂落在笑嘻嘻的脸庞周围。

    “我还以为你们会在其他人走光之前就上床睡觉呢。”他说，“我每小时都过来看看。”

    “你每小时都在炉火里冒一下头？”哈利轻声笑着说。

    “只有几秒钟，看看这里是不是安全了。”

    “但如果你被人看见怎么办呢？”赫敏担忧地说。

    “是啊，我觉得刚才有个女生——　看她的样子，好像是个一年级新生——　大概看见我了。不过别担心，”小天狼星看到赫敏一只手捂住嘴巴，赶紧说道，“等她再回头一看，我已经不见了，我敢说她肯定以为我只是一截奇形怪状的木头什么的。”

    “可是，小天狼星，这样做太冒险了——　”赫敏说。。　“你说起话来像莫丽，”小天狼星说，“我只有用这个办法才能过来回答哈利信上的问题，而不用凭借密码——　密码是可以被人破译的。”

    昕到提及哈利的信，赫敏和罗恩都转头望着他。

    “你没说过你给小天狼星写了信！”赫敏责怪地说。

    “我忘记了。”哈利说，这是千真万确的。他和秋在猫头鹰棚屋的邂逅相遇，使他把之前发生的所有事情都忘了个精光。“别用那种眼光看着我，赫敏，谁也不可能从信里得到秘密情报。是吧，小天狼星？”

    “是的，确实写得很巧妙。”小天狼星微笑着说，“好了，我们最好抓紧时间，以免被人打断——　你的伤疤。”

    “关于那个——　”罗恩话没说完就被赫敏打断了。

    “我们待会儿再告诉你。说吧，小天狼星。”

    “好吧，我知道伤疤疼起来可不是好玩的，但我们认为这其实没有什么可担忧的。它去年也经常疼的，不是吗？”

    “是啊，邓布利多说每当伏地魔有强烈的情绪波动时，我的伤疤就会疼，”哈-210　？利说，他像平常一样假装没有看见罗恩和赫敏脸上的恐惧表情，“所以，我关禁闭的那天晚上，他大概正好——　也许是特别生气什么的吧。”

    “是啊，现在他回来了，伤疤肯定会疼得更频繁了。”小天狼星说。

    “那么，你认为这跟我在乌姆里奇那里关禁闭时她碰我没有关系？”哈利问。

    “我不敢肯定，”小天狼星说，“我是因为她的知名度而知道她的，我相信她不是食死徒——　”

    “她坏成这样，完全有资格当食死徒。”哈利闷闷不乐地说，罗恩和赫敏拼命点头表示赞同。

    “是的，但是世界上并不是只有好人和食死徒。”小天狼星面带苦笑说道，“不过我知道她是个讨厌的家伙——　你们真该听听莱姆斯是怎么说她的。”

    “卢平也认识她？”哈利马上问道，想起了乌姆里奇在第一节课上谈到危险的半人半兽时的评论。

    “不认识，”小天狼星说，“但乌姆里奇两年前起草了一个反狼人的法律，害得卢平简直没办法找到工作。”

    哈利想起卢平这些日子显得更落魄了许多，内心对乌姆里奇的厌恶又加深了几分。

    “她跟狼人有什么仇？”赫敏气愤地说。

    “我想是害怕他们吧。”小天狼星说，笑眯眯地看着赫敏动怒的样子，“显然，她仇恨半人半兽，去年她还到处奔走游说，要把人鱼驱拢在一起，挂上牌子。想想吧，克利切那样的小精灵还在到处乱跑，却浪费时间和精力去迫害人鱼。”

    罗恩哈哈大笑，赫敏却显得很恼火。

    “小天狼星！”她责备地说，“说老实话，如果你在克利切身上多下些功夫，我相信他不会无动于衷的。毕竟，你是他留守的家庭里的最后一位成员，邓布利多教授说——　”

    “那么，乌姆里奇的课怎么样？”小天狼星打断了她，“她是不是训练你们大家去杀害半人半兽？”

    “没有，”哈利说，假装没有看见赫敏为克利切辩护时被突然打断的恼火神情，“她根本不让我们使用魔法！”

    “我们光是念那本无聊的教科书。”罗恩说。

    “啊，那是不奇怪的。”小天狼星说，“我们从魔法部内部得到情报，福吉不想让你们进行格斗训练。”

    “格斗训练！”哈利不敢相信地重复道，“他以为我们在这里做什么，组织一支巫师军队吗？”

    “这正是他以为你们在做的事情，”小天狼星说，“或者说得更准确些，这正是他害怕邓布利多在做的事情——　组织自己的一支秘密部队，然后就可以用它跟-211　？魔法部较量了。”

    听了这话，大家静默了片刻，然后罗恩说：“我还从来没听说过这么愚蠢的话呢，就连卢娜洛夫古德的那些疯话也没这么傻。”

    “那么，就因为福吉害怕我们用魔咒对付魔法部，就不让我们学习黑魔法防御术啦？”赫敏说，一脸气冲冲的样子。

    “是啊，”小天狼星说，“福吉认为邓布利多会不择手段地篡权夺位。他对邓布利多的疑心一天比一天重。总有一天他会捏造莫须有的罪名把邓布利多抓起来的。”

    这使哈利想起了珀西的信。

    “你知道吗，明天的《预言家日报》上是不是有关于邓布利多的内容？罗恩的哥哥珀西认为会有——　”

    “我不知道，”小天狼星说，“我整个周末都没有看见凤凰社的人，他们都忙得要命。一直只有我和克利切在那儿？？”

    小天狼星的声音里明显透着痛苦。

    “那么你也不知道海格的任何消息，是吗？”

    “啊？？”小天狼星说，“其实，他现在应该回来了，谁也说不准他发生了什么事情。”他看到他们愁眉苦脸的表情，又赶紧补充道，“可是邓布利多并不担心，所以你们三个也不要焦急不安。我相信海格不会有事的。”

    “可是如果说他现在应该回来了？？”赫敏用焦虑的声音轻轻说。

    “马克西姆夫人当时跟他在一起，我们一直跟马克西姆保持着联系，她说他们在回家的路上走散了——　但这并不表明海格受了伤或——　是啊，并不表明他不是安然无恙。”

    哈利、罗恩和赫敏并没有完全信服，他们担忧地交换着目光。

    “听着，不要问太多关于海格的问题，”小天狼星急忙说道，“这会使别人更注意到他没有回来，我知道邓布利多是不愿意那样的。海格很厉害，他一定不会有事的。”看到他们听了这话并没有高兴起来，小天狼星又说：“对了，你们下次什么时候到霍格莫德村过周末？我一直在想，上次我们在火车站装狗装得很成功，是不是？我想我可以——　”

    “不！”哈利和赫敏同时说，声音很响。“小天狼星，你没有看《预言家日报》吗？”赫敏忧心忡忡地问。“噢，那个，”小天狼星咧嘴笑着说，“他们总是猜测我在哪儿，但并没有真的搞到什么线索——　”

    “不，我们认为这次他们发现了线索。”哈利说，“马尔福在火车上说了一句话，使我们觉得他知道那条狗就是你，当时他父亲就在站台上，小天狼星——　你知道的，就是卢修斯马尔福——　所以千万千万别再上这儿来了。如果马尔福再-212　？认出你来——　”　“好吧，好吧，我明白了，”小天狼星说，显得很不高兴，“我只是一时兴起，以为你们大概愿意一起聚一聚。”“我愿意的，我只是不愿意你再被关进阿兹卡班！”哈利说。片刻的静默，小天狼星从炉火里望着哈利，凹陷的眼睛中间有一道深纹。“你不如我想的那样酷似你父亲，”他最后说道，声音里明显透着冷淡，“对詹姆来说，只有冒险才是有趣的。”

    “可是——　”

    “好了，我得走了，我听见克利切下楼来了，”小天狼星说，但哈利可以肯定他在说谎，“那么我写信告诉你我什么时候能再回到炉火里，好吗？不知你敢不敢冒这个风险？”

随着噗的一声轻响，小天狼星的头不见了，那里重又闪烁着跳动的火苗。

The Hogwart's High Inquisitor

They had expected to have to comb Hermione's Daily Prophet carefully next morning to find the article Percy had mentioned in his letter. However, the departing delivery owl had barely cleared the top of the milk jug when Hermione let out a huge gasp and flattened the newspaper to reveal a large photograph of Dolores Umbridge, smiling widely and blinking slowly at them from beneath the headline.
MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM
DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED
FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR
‘High Inquisitor?’ said Harry darkly, his half-eaten piece of toast slipping from his fingers. ‘What does that mean?’
Hermione read aloud:
‘In a surprise move last night the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
‘"The Minister has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Hogwarts for some time,” said Junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley. “He is now responding to concerns, voiced by anxious parents, who feel the school may be moving in a direction they do not approve of.”
‘This is not the first time in recent weeks that the Minister, Cornelius Fudge, has used new laws to effect improvements at the wizarding school. As recently as 30th August, Educational Decree Number Twenty-two was passed, to ensure that, in the event of the current Headmaster being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching post, the Ministry should select an appropriate person.
‘"That's how Dolores Umbridge came to be appointed to the teaching staff at Hogwarts,” said Weasley last night. “Dumbledore couldn't find anyone so the Minister put in Umbridge, and of course, she's been an immediate success—” ’
‘She's been a WHAT?’ said Harry loudly.
‘Wait, there's more,’ said Hermione grimly.
‘"—an immediate success, totally revolutionising the teaching of Defence Against the Dark Arts and providing the Minister with on-the-ground feedback about what's really happening at Hogwarts.”
‘It is this last function that the Ministry has now formalised with the passing of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three, which creates the new position of Hogwarts High Inquisitor.
‘"This is an exciting new phase in the Minister's plan to get to grips with what some are calling the falling standards at Hogwarts,” said Weasley. “The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure that they are coming up to scratch. Professor Umbridge has been offered this position in addition to her own teaching post and we are delighted to say that she has accepted.”
‘The Ministry's new moves have received enthusiastic support from parents of students at Hogwarts.
‘"I feel much easier in my mind now that I know Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation,” said Mr. Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wiltshire mansion last night. “Many of us with our children's best interests at heart have been concerned about some of Dumbledore's eccentric decisions in the last few years and are glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation.”
‘Among those eccentric decisions are undoubtedly the controversial staff appointments previously described in this newspaper, which have included the employment of werewolf Remus Lupin, half-giant Rubeus Hagrid and delusional ex-Auror, “Mad-Eye” Moody.
‘Rumours abound, of course, that Albus Dumbledore, once Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, is no longer up to the task of managing the prestigious school of Hogwarts.
‘"I think the appointment of the Inquisitor is a first step towards ensuring that Hogwarts has a headmaster in whom we can all repose our confidence,” said a Ministry insider last night.
‘Wizengamot elders Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden have resigned in protest at the introduction of the post of Inquisitor to Hogwarts.
‘"Hogwarts is a school, not an outpost of Cornelius Fudge's office,” said Madam Marchbanks. “This is a further, disgusting attempt to discredit Albus Dumbledore.” ‘(For a full account of Madam Marchbanks's alleged links to subversive goblin groups, turn to page seventeen.)’
Hermione finished reading and looked across the table at the other two.
‘So now we know how we ended up with Umbridge! Fudge passed this “Educational Decree” and forced her on us! And now he's given her the power to inspect the other teachers!’ Hermione was breathing fast and her eyes were very bright. ‘I can't believe this. It's outrageous!’
‘I know it is,’ said Harry. He looked down at his right hand, clenched on the table-top, and saw the faint white outline of the words Umbridge had forced him to cut into his skin.
But a grin was unfurling on Ron's face.
‘What?’ said Harry and Hermione together, staring at him.
‘Oh, I can't wait to see McGonagall inspected,’ said Ron happily. ‘Umbridge won't know what's hit her.’
‘Well, come on,’ said Hermione, jumping up, ‘we'd better get going, if she's inspecting Binns's class we don't want to be late ...’
But Professor Umbridge was not inspecting their History of Magic lesson, which was just as dull as the previous Monday, nor was she in Snape's dungeon when they arrived for double Potions, where Harry's moonstone essay was handed back to him with a large, spiky black ‘D’ scrawled in an upper corner.
‘I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your OWL,’ said Snape with a smirk, as he swept among them, passing back their homework. ‘This should give you a realistic idea of what to expect in the examination.’
Snape reached the front of the class and turned on his heel to face them.
‘The general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination. I expect to see a great deal more effort for this week's essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get a “D".’
He smirked as Malfoy sniggered and said in a carrying whisper, ‘Some people got a “D"? Ha!’
Harry realised that Hermione was looking sideways to see what grade he had received; he slid his moonstone essay back into his bag as quickly as possible, feeling that he would rather keep that information private.
Determined not to give Snape an excuse to tail him this lesson, Harry read and reread every line of instructions on the blackboard at least three times before acting on them. His Strengthening Solution was not precisely the clear turquoise shade of Hermione's but it was at least blue rather than pink, like Neville's, and he delivered a flask of it to Snape's desk at the end of the lesson with a feeling of mingled defiance and relief.
‘Well, that wasn't as bad as last week, was it?’ said Hermione, as they climbed the steps out of the dungeon and made their way across the Entrance Hall towards lunch. ‘And the homework didn't go too badly, either, did it?’
When neither Ron nor Harry answered, she pressed on, ‘I mean, all right, I didn't expect the top grade, not if he's marking to OWL standard, but a pass is quite encouraging at this stage, wouldn't you say?’
Harry made a non-committal noise in his throat.
‘Of course, a lot can happen between now and the exam, we've got plenty of time to improve, but the grades we're getting now are a sort of baseline, aren't they? Something we can build on ...’
They sat down together at the Gryffindor table.
‘Obviously, I'd have been thrilled if I'd got an “O"— ’
‘Hermione,’ said Ron sharply, ‘if you want to know what grades we got, ask.’
‘I don't—I didn't mean—well, if you want to tell me—’
‘I got a “P",’ said Ron, ladling soup into his bowl. ‘Happy?’
‘Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of,’ said Fred, who had just arrived at the table with George and Lee Jordan and was sitting down on Harry's right. ‘Nothing wrong with a good healthy “P".’
‘But,’ said Hermione, ‘doesn't “P” stand for ...’
‘"Poor", yeah,’ said Lee Jordan. ‘Still, better than “D", isn't it? “Dreadful"?’
Harry felt his face grow warm and faked a small coughing fit over his roll. When he emerged from this he was sorry to find that Hermione was still in full flow about OWL grades.
‘So top grade's “O” for “Outstanding",’ she was saying, ‘and then there's “A"—’
‘No, “E",’ George corrected her, ‘"E” for “Exceeds Expectations". And I've always thought Fred and I should've got “E” in everything, because we exceeded expectations just by turning up for the exams.’
They all laughed except Hermione, who ploughed on, ‘So, after “E” it's “A” for “Acceptable", and that's the last pass grade, isn't it?’
‘Yep,’ said Fred, dunking an entire roll in his soup, transferring it to his mouth and swallowing it whole.
‘Then you get “P” for “Poor"—’ Ron raised both his arms in mock celebration—'and “D” for “Dreadful".
‘And then “T",’ George reminded her.
‘"T"?’ asked Hermione, looking appalled. ‘Even lower than a “D"? What on earth does “T” stand for?’
‘"Troll",’ said George promptly.
Harry laughed again, though he was not sure whether or not George was joking. He imagined trying to conceal from Hermione that he had received ‘T's in all his OWLs and immediately resolved to work harder from now on.
‘You lot had an inspected lesson yet?’ Fred asked them.
‘No,’ said Hermione at once. ‘Have you?’
‘Just now, before lunch,’ said George. ‘Charms.’
‘What was it like?’ Harry and Hermione asked together.
Fred shrugged.
‘Not that bad. Umbridge just lurked in the corner making notes on a clipboard. You know what Flitwick's like, he treated her like a guest, didn't seem to bother him at all. She didn't say much. Asked Alicia a couple of questions about what the classes are normally like, Alicia told her they were really good, that was it.’
‘I can't see old Flitwick getting marked down,’ said George, ‘he usually gets everyone through their exams all right.’
‘Who've you got this afternoon?’ Fred asked Harry.
‘Trelawney—’
‘A “T” if ever I saw one.’
‘—and Umbridge herself.’
‘Well, be a good boy and keep your temper with Umbridge today,’ said George. ‘Angelina'll do her nut if you miss any more Quidditch practices.’
But Harry did not have to wait for Defence Against the Dark Arts to meet Professor Umbridge. He was pulling out his dream diary in a seat at the very back of the shadowy Divination room when Ron elbowed him in the ribs and, looking round, he saw Professor Umbridge emerging through the trapdoor in the floor. The class, which had been talking cheerily, fell silent at once. The abrupt fall in the noise level made Professor Trelawney, who had been wafting about handing out copies of The Dream Oracle, look round.
‘Good afternoon, Professor Trelawney,’ said Professor Umbridge with her wide smile. ‘You received my note, I trust? Giving the time and date of your inspection?’
Professor Trelawney nodded curtly and, looking very disgruntled, turned her back on Professor Umbridge and continued to give out books. Still smiling, Professor Umbridge grasped the back of the nearest armchair and pulled it to the front of the class so that it was a few inches behind Professor Trelawney's seat. She then sat down, took her clipboard from her flowery bag and looked up expectantly, waiting for the class to begin.
Professor Trelawney pulled her shawls tight about her with slightly trembling hands and surveyed the class through her hugely magnifying lenses.
‘We shall be continuing our study of prophetic dreams today,’ she said in a brave attempt at her usual mystic tones, though her voice shook slightly. ‘Divide into pairs, please, and interpret each others latest night-time visions with the aid of the Oracle.’
She made as though to sweep back to her seat, saw Professor Umbridge sitting right beside it, and immediately veered left towards Parvati and Lavender, who were already deep in discussion about Parvati's most recent dream.
Harry opened his copy of The Dream Oracle, watching Umbridge covertly. She was already making notes on her clipboard. After a few minutes she got to her feet and began to pace the room in ‘Trelawney's wake, listening to her conversations with students and posing questions here and there. Harry bent his head hurriedly over his book.
‘Think of a dream, quick,’ he told Ron, ‘in case the old toad comes our way.’
‘I did it last time,’ Ron protested, ‘it's your turn, you tell me one.’
‘Oh, I dunno ...’ said Harry desperately, who could not remember dreaming anything at all over the last few days. ‘Let's say I dreamed I was ... drowning Snape in my cauldron. Yeah, that'll do ...’
Ron chortled as he opened his Dream Oracle.
‘OK, we've got to add your age to the date you had the dream, the number of letters in the subject ... would that be “drowning” or “cauldron” or “Snape"?’
‘It doesn't matter, pick any of them,’ said Harry, chancing a glance behind him. Professor Umbridge was now standing at Professor Trelawney's shoulder making notes while the Divination teacher questioned Neville about his dream diary.
‘What night did you dream this again?’ Ron said, immersed in calculations.
‘I dunno, last night, whenever you like,’ Harry told him, trying to listen to what Umbridge was saying to Professor Trelawney. They were only a table away from him and Ron now. Professor Umbridge was making another note on her clipboard and Professor Trelawney was looking extremely put out.
‘Now,’ said Umbridge, looking up at Trelawney, ‘you've been in this post how long, exactly?’
Professor Trelawney scowled at her, arms crossed and shoulders hunched as though wishing to protect herself as much as possible from the indignity of the inspection. After a slight pause in which she seemed to decide that the question was not so offensive that she could reasonably ignore it, she said in a deeply resentful tone, ‘Nearly sixteen years.’
‘Quite a period,’ said Professor Umbridge, making a note on her clipboard. ‘So it was Professor Dumbledore who appointed you?’
‘That's right,’ said Professor Trelawney shortly.
Professor Umbridge made another note.
‘And you are a great-great-granddaughter of the celebrated Seer Cassandra Trelawney?’
‘Yes,’ said Professor Trelawney, holding her head a little higher.
Another note on the clipboard.
‘But I think— correct me if I am mistaken—that you are the first in your family since Cassandra to be possessed of Second Sight?’
‘These things often skip—er—three generations,’ said Professor Trelawney.
Professor Umbridge's toadlike smile widened.
‘Of course,’ she said sweetly, making yet another note. ‘Well, if you could just predict something for me, then?’ And she looked up enquiringly, still smiling.
Professor Trelawney stiffened as though unable to believe her ears. ‘I don't understand you,’ she said, clutching convulsively at the shawl around her scrawny neck.
‘I'd like you to make a prediction for me,’ said Professor Umbridge very clearly.
Harry and Ron were not the only people now watching and listening sneakily from behind their books. Most of the class were staring transfixed at Professor Trelawney as she drew herself up to her lull height, her beads and bangles clinking.
‘The Inner Eye does not See upon command!’ she said in scandalised tones.
‘I see,’ said Professor Umbridge softly, making yet another note on her clipboard.
‘I—but—but ... wait!’ said Professor Trelawney suddenly, in an attempt at her usual ethereal voice, though the mystical effect was ruined somewhat by the way it was shaking with anger. ‘I ... I think I do see something ... something that concerns you ... why, I sense something ... something dark ... some grave peril ...’
Professor Trelawney pointed a shaking finger at Professor Umbridge who continued to smile blandly at her, eyebrows raised.
‘I am afraid ... I am afraid that you are in grave danger!’ Professor Trelawney finished dramatically.
There was a pause. Professor Umbridge surveyed Professor Trelawney.
‘Right,’ she said softly, scribbling on her clipboard once more. ‘Well, if that's really the best you can do ...’
She turned away, leaving Professor Trelawney standing rooted to the spot, her chest heaving. Harry caught Ron's eye and knew that Ron was thinking exactly the same as he was: they both knew that Professor Trelawney was an old fraud, but on the other hand, they loathed Umbridge so much that they felt very much on Trelawney's side—until she swooped down on them a few seconds later, that is.
‘Well?’ she said, snapping her long fingers under Harry's nose, uncharacteristically brisk. ‘Let me see the start you've made on your dream diary, please.’
And by the time she had interpreted Harry's dreams at the top of her voice (all of which, even the ones that involved eating porridge, apparently foretold a gruesome and early death), he was feeling much less sympathetic towards her. All the while, Professor Umbridge stood a few feet away, making notes on that clipboard, and when the bell rang she descended the silver ladder first and was waiting for them all when they reached their Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson ten minutes later.
She was humming and smiling to herself when they entered the room. Harry and Ron told Hermione, who had been in Arithmancy, exactly what had happened in Divination while they all took out their copies of Defensive Magical Theory, but before Hermione could ask any questions Professor Umbridge had called them all to order and silence fell.
‘Wands away,’ she instructed them all with a smile, and those people who had been hopeful enough to take them out, sadly returned them to their bags. ‘As we finished Chapter One last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence “Chapter Two, Common Defensive Theories and their Derivation". There will be no need to talk.’
Still smiling her wide, self-satisfied smile, she sat down at her desk. The class gave an audible sigh as it turned, as one, to page nineteen. Harry wondered dully whether there were enough chapters in the book to keep them reading through all this years lessons and was on the point of checking the contents page when he noticed that Hermione had her hand in the air again.
Professor Umbridge had noticed, too, and what was more, she seemed to have worked out a strategy for just such an eventuality. Instead of trying to pretend she had not noticed Hermione she got to her feet and walked around the front row of desks until they were face to face, then she bent down and whispered, so that the rest of the class could not hear, ‘What is it this time, Miss Granger?’
‘I've already read Chapter Two,’ said Hermione.
‘Well then, proceed to Chapter Three.’
‘I've read that too. I've read the whole book.’
Professor Umbridge blinked but recovered her poise almost instantly.
‘Well, then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counter-jinxes in Chapter Fifteen.’
‘He says that counter-jinxes are improperly named,’ said Hermione promptly. ‘He says “counter-jinx” is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable.’
Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows and Harry knew she was impressed, against her will.
‘But I disagree,’ Hermione continued.
Professor Umbridge's eyebrows rose a little higher and her gaze became distinctly colder.
‘You disagree?’ she repeated.
‘Yes, I do,’ said Hermione, who, unlike Umbridge, was not whispering, but speaking in a clear, carrying voice that had by now attracted the attention of the rest of the class. ‘Mr. Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when they're used defensively.’
‘Oh, you do, do you?’ said Professor Umbridge, forgetting to whisper and straightening up. ‘Well, I'm afraid it is Mr. Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger.’
‘But—’ Hermione began.
‘That is enough,’ said Professor Umbridge. She walked back to the front of the class and stood before them, all the jauntiness she had shown at the beginning of the lesson gone. ‘Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor house.’
There was an outbreak of muttering at this.
‘What for?’ said Harry angrily.
‘Don't you get involved!’ Hermione whispered urgently to him.
‘For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions,’ said Professor Umbridge smoothly. ‘I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more licence, but as none of them—with the possible exception of Professor Quirrell, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects—would have passed a Ministry inspection—’
‘Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher,’ said Harry loudly, ‘there was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head.’
This pronouncement was followed by one of the loudest silences Harry had ever heard. Then—
‘I think another week's detentions would do you some good, Mr. Potter,’ said Umbridge sleekly.
The cut on the back of Harry's hand had barely healed and, by the following morning, it was bleeding again. He did not complain during the evening's detention; he was determined not to give Umbridge the satisfaction; over and over again he wrote I must not tell lies and not a sound escaped his lips, though the cut deepened with every letter.
The very worst part of this second week's worth of detentions v/as, just as George had predicted, Angslina's reaction. She cornered him just as he arrived at the Gryffindor table for breakfast on Tuesday and shouted so loudly that Professor McGonagall came sweeping down upon the pair of them from the staff table.
‘Miss Johnson, how dare you make such a racket in the Great Hall! Five points from Gryffindor!’
‘But Professor— he's gone and landed himself in detention again—’
‘What's this, Potter?’ said Professor McGonagall sharply, rounding on Harry. ‘Detention? From whom?’
‘From Professor Umbridge,’ muttered Harry, not meeting Professor McGonagall's beady, square-framed eyes.
‘Are you telling me,’ she said, lowering her voice so that the group of curious Ravenclaws behind them could not hear, that after the warning I gave you last Monday you lost your temper in Professor Umbridge's class again?’
‘Yes,’ Harry muttered, speaking to the floor.
‘Potter, you must get a grip on yourself! You are heading for serious trouble! Another five points from Gryffindor!’
‘But—what—? Professor, no!’ Harry said, furious at this injustice, ‘I'm already being punished by her, why do you have to take points as well?’
‘Because detentions do not appear to have any effect on you whatsoever!’ said Professor McGonagall tartly. ‘No, not another word of complaint, Potter! And as for you, Miss Johnson, you will confine your shouting matches to the Quidditch pitch in future or risk losing the team captaincy!’
Professor McGonagall strode back towards the staff table. Angelina gave Harry a look of deepest disgust and stalked away, upon which he flung himself on to the bench beside Ron, fuming.
‘She's taken points off Gryffindor because I'm having my hand sliced open every night! How is that fair, how?’
‘I know, mate,’ said Ron sympathetically, tipping bacon on to Harry's plate, ‘she's bang out of order.’
Hermione, however, merely rustled the pages of her Daily Prophet and said nothing.
‘You think McGonagall was right, do you?’ said Harry angrily to the picture of Cornelius Fudge obscuring Hermione's face.
‘I wish she hadn't taken points from you, but I think she's right to warn you not to lose your temper with Umbridge,’ said Hermione's voice, while Fudge gesticulated forcefully from the front page, clearly giving some kind of speech.
Harry did not speak to Hermione all through Charms, but when they entered Transfiguration he forgot about being cross with her. Professor Umbridge and her clipboard were sitting in a corner and the sight of her drove the memory of breakfast right out of his head.
‘Excellent,’ whispered Ron, as they sat down in their usual seats. ‘Let's see Umbridge get what she deserves.’
Professor McGonagall marched into the room without giving the slightest indication that she knew Professor Umbridge was there.
‘That will do,’ she said and silence fell immediately. ‘Mr. Finnigan, kindly come here and hand back the homework—Miss Brown, please take this box of mice—don't be silly, girl, they won't hurt you—and hand one to each student—’
‘Hem, hem,’ said Professor Umbridge, employing the same silly little cough she had used to interrupt Dumbledore on the first night of term. Professor McGonagall ignored her. Seamus handed back Harry's essay; Harry took it without looking at him and saw, to his relief, that he had managed an ‘A'.
‘Right then, everyone, listen closely—Dean Thomas, if you do that to the mouse again I shall put you in detention—most of you have now successfully Vanished your snails and even those who were left with a certain amount of shell have got the gist of the spell. Today, we shall be—’
‘Hem, hem,’ said Professor Umbridge.
‘Yes?’ said Professor McGonagall, turning round, her eyebrows so close together they seemed to form one long, severe line.
‘I was just wondering, Professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspec—’
‘Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom,’ said Professor McGonagall, turning her back firmly on Professor Umbridge. Many of the students exchanged looks of glee. ‘As I was saying: today, we shall be practising the altogether more difficult Vanishment of mice. Now, the Vanishing Spell—’
‘Hem, hem.’
‘I wonder,’ said Professor McGonagall in cold fury, turning on Professor Umbridge, ‘how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking.’
Professor Umbridge looked as though she had just been slapped in the face. She did not speak, but straightened the parchment on her clipboard and began scribbling furiously.
Looking supremely unconcerned, Professor McGonagall addressed the class once more.
‘As I was saying: the Vanishing Spell becomes more difficult with the complexity of the animal to be Vanished. The snail, as an invertebrate, does not present much of a challenge; the mouse, as a mammal, offers a much greater one. This is not, therefore, magic you can accomplish with your mind on your dinner. So— you know the incantation, let me see what you can do ...’
‘How she can lecture me about not losing my temper with Umbridge!’ Harry muttered to Ron under his breath, but he was grinning—his anger with Professor McGonagall had quite evaporated.
Professor Umbridge did not follow Professor McGonagall around the class as she had followed Professor Trelawney; perhaps she realised Professor McGonagall would not permit it. She did, however, take many more notes while sitting in her corner, and when Professor McGonagall finally told them all to pack away, she rose with a grim expression on her face.
‘Well, it's a start,’ said Ron, holding up a long wriggling mouse-tail and dropping it back into the box Lavender was passing around.
As they filed out of the classroom, Harry saw Professor Umbndge approach the teachers desk; he nudged Ron, who nudged Hermione in turn, and the three of them deliberately fell back to eavesdrop.
‘How long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?’ Professor Umbridge asked.
‘Thirty-nine years this December,’ said Professor McGonagall brusquely, snapping her bag shut.
Professor Umbridge made a note.
‘Very well,’ she said, ‘you will receive the results of your inspection in ten days’ time.’
‘I can hardly wait,’ said Professor McGonagall, in a coldly indifferent voice, and she strode off towards the door. ‘Hurry up, you three,’ she added, sweeping Harry, Ron and Hermione before her.
Harry could not help giving her a faint smile and could have sworn he received one in return.
He had thought that the next time he would see Umbridge would be in his detention that evening, but he was wrong. When they walked down the lawns towards the Forest for Care of Magical Creatures, they found her and her clipboard waiting for them beside Professor Grubbly-Plank.
‘You do not usually take this class, is that correct?’ Harry heard her ask as they arrived at the trestle table where the group of captive Bowtruckles were scrabbling around for woodlice like so many living twigs.
‘Quite correct,’ said Professor Grubbly-Plank, hands behind her back and bouncing on the balls of her feet. ‘I am a substitute teacher standing in for Professor Hagrid.’
Harry exchanged uneasy looks with Ron and Hermione. Malfoy was whispering with Crabbe and Goyle; he would surely love this opportunity to tell tales on Hagrid to a member of the Ministry.
‘Hmm,’ said Professor Umbridge, dropping her voice, though Harry could still hear her quite clearly. ‘I wonder—the Headmaster seems strangely reluctant to give me any information on the matter—can you tell me what is causing Professor Hagrid's very extended leave of absence?’
Harry saw Malfoy look up eagerly and watch Umbridge and Grubbly-Plank closely.
’ ‘Fraid I can't,’ said Professor Grubbly-Plank breezily. ‘Don't know anything more about it than you do. Got an owl from Dumbledore, would I like a couple of weeks’ teaching work. I accepted. That's as much as I know. Well ... shall I get started then?’
‘Yes, please do,’ said Professor Umbridge, scribbling on her clipboard.
Umbridge took a different tack in this class and wandered amongst the students, questioning them on magical creatures. Most people were able to answer well and Harry's spirits lifted somewhat; at least the class was not letting Hagrid down.
‘Overall,’ said Professor Umbridge, returning to Professor Grubbly-Plank's side after a lengthy interrogation of Dean Thomas, ‘how do you, as a temporary member of staff—an objective outsider, I suppose you might say—how do you find Hogwarts? Do you feel you receive enough support from the school management?’
‘Oh, yes, Dumbledore's excellent,’ said Professor Grubbly-Plank heartily. ‘Yes, I'm very happy with the way things are run, very happy indeed.’
Looking politely incredulous, Umbridge made a tiny note on her clipboard and went on, ‘And what are you planning to cover with this class this year—assuming, of course, that Professor Hagrid does not return?’
‘Oh, I'll take them through the creatures that most often come up in OWL,’ said Professor Grubbly-Plank. ‘Not much left to do—they've studied unicorns and Nifflers, I thought we'd cover Porlocks and Kneazles, make sure they can recognise Crups and Knarls, you know ...’
‘Well, you seem to know what you're doing, at any rate,’ said Professor Umbridge, making a very obvious tick on her clipboard. Harry did not like the emphasis she put on ‘you’ and liked it even less when she put her next question to Goyle. ‘Now, I hear there have been injuries in this class?’
Goyle gave a stupid grin. Malfoy hastened to answer the question.
‘That was me,’ he said. ‘I was slashed by a hippogriff.’
‘A hippogriff?’ said Professor Umbridge, now scribbling frantically.
‘Only because he was too stupid to listen to what Hagrid told him to do,’ said Harry angrily.
Both Ron and Hermione groaned. Professor Umbridge turned her head slowly in Harry's direction.
‘Another night's detention, I think,’ she said softly. ‘Well, thank you very much, Professor Grubbly-Plank, I think that's all I need here. You will be receiving the results of your inspection within ten days.’
‘Jolly good,’ said Professor Grubbly-Plank, and Professor Umbridge set off back across the lawn to the castle.
It was nearly midnight when Harry left Umbridge's office that night, his hand now bleeding so severely that it was staining the scarf he had wrapped around it. He expected the common room to be empty when he returned, but Ron and Hermione had sat up waiting for him. He was pleased to see them, especially as Hermione was disposed to be sympathetic rather than critical.
‘Here,’ she said anxiously, pushing a small bowl of yellow liquid towards him, ‘soak your hand in that, it's a solution of strained and pickled Murtlap tentacles, it should help.’
Harry placed his bleeding, aching hand into the bowl and experienced a wonderful feeling of relief. Crookshanks curled around his legs, purring loudly, then leapt into his lap and settled down.
‘Thanks,’ he said gratefully, scratching behind Crookshanks's ears with his left hand.
‘I still reckon you should complain about this,’ said Ron in a low voice.
‘No,’ said Harry flatly.
‘McGonagall would go nuts if she knew—’
‘Yeah, she probably would,’ said Harry dully. ‘And how long do you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?’
Ron opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out and, after a moment, he closed it again, defeated.
‘She's an awful woman,’ said Hermione in a small voice. ‘Awful.You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in ... we've got to do something about her.’
‘I suggested poison,’ said Ron grimly.
‘No ... I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we're not going to learn any Defence from her at all,’ said Hermione.
‘Well, what can we do about that?’ said Ron, yawning. ’ ‘S too late, isn't it? She's got the job, she's here to stay. Fudge'll make sure of that.’
‘Well,’ said Hermione tentatively. ‘You know, I was thinking today ...’ she shot a slightly nervous look at Harry and then plunged on, ‘I was thinking that— maybe the time's come when we should just—just do it ourselves.’
‘Do what ourselves?’ said Harry suspiciously, still floating his hand in the essence of Murtlap tentacles.
‘Well—learn Defence Against the Dark Arts ourselves, said Hermione.
‘Come off it,’ groaned Ron. ‘You want us to do extra work? D'you realise Harry and I are behind on homework again and it's only the second week?’
‘But this is much more important than homework!’ said Hermione.
Harry and Ron goggled at her.
‘I didn't think there was anything in the universe more important than homework!’ said Ron.
‘Don't be silly, of course there is,’ said Hermione, and Harry saw, with an ominous feeling, that her face was suddenly alight with the kind of fervour that SPEW usually inspired in her. ‘It's about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridge's first lesson, for what's waiting for us out there. It's about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don't learn anything for a whole year—’
‘We can't do much by ourselves,’ said Ron in a defeated voice. ‘I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practise them, I suppose—’
‘No, I agree, we've gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books,’ said Hermione. ‘We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we're going wrong.’
‘If you're talking about Lupin ...’ Harry began.
‘No, no, I'm not talking about Lupin,’ said Hermione. ‘He's too busy with the Order and, anyway, the most we could see him is during Hogsmeade weekends and that's not nearly often enough.’
‘Who, then?’ said Harry, frowning at her.
Hermione heaved a very deep sigh.
‘Isn't it obvious?’ she said. ‘I'm talking about you,Harry.’
There was a moment's silence. A light night breeze rattled the windowpanes behind Ron, and the fire guttered.
‘About me what?’ said Harry.
‘I'm talking about you teaching us Defence Against the Dark Arts.’
Harry stared at her. Then he turned to Ron, ready to exchange the exasperated looks they sometimes shared when Hermione elaborated on far-fetched schemes like SPEW. To Harry's consternation, however, Ron did not look exasperated.
He was frowning slightly, apparently thinking. Then he said, ‘That's an idea.’
‘What's an idea?’ said Harry.
‘You,’ said Ron. ‘Teaching us to do it.’
‘But ...’
Harry was grinning now, sure the pair of them were pulling his leg.
‘But I'm not a teacher, I can't—’
‘Harry, you're the best in the year at Defence Against the Dark Arts,’ said Hermione.
‘Me?’ said Harry now grinning more broadly than ever. ‘No, I'm not, you've beaten me in every test—’
‘Actually I haven't,’ said Hermione coolly. ‘You beat me in our third year—the only year we both sat the test and had a teacher who actually knew the subject. But I'm not talking about test results, Harry. Think what you've done!’
‘How d'you mean?’
‘You know what, I'm not sure I want someone this stupid teaching me,’ Ron said to Hermione, smirking slightly. He turned to Harry.
‘Let's think,’ he said, pulling a face like Goyle concentrating. ‘Uh ... first year—you saved the Philosopher's Stone from You-Know-Who.’
‘But that was luck,’ said Harry, ‘it wasn't skill—’
‘Second year,’ Ron interrupted, ‘you killed the Basilisk and destroyed Riddle.’
‘Yeah, but if Fawkes hadn't turned up, I—’
‘Third year,’ said Ron, louder still, ‘you fought off about a hundred dementors at once—’
‘You know that was a fluke, if the Time-Turner hadn't—’
‘Last year,’ Ron said, almost shouting now, ‘you fought off You-know-Who again—’
‘Listen to me!’ said Harry, almost angrily, because Ron and Hermione were both smirking now. ‘Just listen to me, all right? It sounds great when you say it like that, but all that stuff was luck—I didn't know what I was doing half the time, I didn't plan any of it, I just did whatever I could think of, and I nearly always had help—’
Ron and Hermione were still smirking and Harry felt his temper rise; he wasn't even sure why he was feeling so angry.
‘Don't sit there grinning like you know better than I do, I was there, wasn't I?’ he said heatedly. ‘I know what went on, all right? And I didn't get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defence Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because— because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right—but I just blundered through it all, I didn't have a clue what I was doing—STOP LAUGHING!’
The bowl of Murtlap essence fell to the floor and smashed. He became aware that he was on his feet, though he couldn't remember standing up. Crookshanks streaked away under a sofa. Ron and Hermione's smiles had vanished.
‘You don't know what it's like!You—neither of you—you've never had to face him, have you? You think it's just memorising a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you're in class or something? The whole time you're sure you know there's nothing between you and dying except your own—your own brain or guts or whatever—like you can think straight when you know you're about a nanosecond from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die— they've never taught us that in their classes, what it's like to deal with things like that—and you two sit there acting like I'm a clever little boy to be standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up—you just don't get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadn't needed me—’
‘We weren't saying anything like that, mate,’ said Ron, looking aghast. ‘We weren't having a go at Diggory, we didn't—you've got the wrong end of the—’
He looked helplessly at Hermione, whose face was stricken.
‘Harry,’ she said timidly, ‘don't you see? This ... this is exactly why we need you ... we need to know what it's r-really like ... facing him ... facing V-Voldemort.’
It was the first time she had ever said Voldemort's name and it was this, more than anything else, that calmed Harry. Still breathing hard, he sank back into his chair, becoming aware as he did so that his hand was throbbing horribly again. He wished he had not smashed the bowl of Murtlap essence.
‘Well ... think about it,’ said Hermione quietly. ‘Please?’
Harry could not think of anything to say. He was feeling ashamed of his outburst already. He nodded, hardly aware of what he was agreeing to.
Hermione stood up.
‘Well, I'm off to bed,’ she said, in a voice that was clearly as natural as she could make it. ‘Erm ... night.’
Ron had got to his feet, too.
‘Coming?’ he said awkwardly to Harry.
‘Yeah,’ said Harry. ‘In ... in a minute. I'll just clear this up.’
He indicated the smashed bowl on the floor. Ron nodded and left.
‘Reparo,’ Harry muttered, pointing his wand at the broken pieces of china. They flew back together, good as new, but there was no returning the Murtlap essence to the bowl.
He was suddenly so tired he was tempted to sink back into his armchair and sleep there, but instead he forced himself to his feet and followed Ron upstairs. His restless night was punctuated once more by dreams of long corridors and locked doors and he awoke next day with his scar prickling again.

霍格沃茨的高级调查官

    他们本来以为第二天早晨要在赫敏的《预言家日报》上仔细搜寻，才能找到珀西信里提到的那篇文章。然而，送信的猫头鹰刚从牛奶罐上飞开，赫敏就猛地吸了口冷气。她展开报纸，露出一幅多洛雷斯乌姆里奇的大照片。她满脸笑容，朝他们一下一下地眨着眼睛，上面是标题：魔法部寻求教育改革多洛雷斯乌姆里奇被任命为第一任高级调查官“乌姆里奇——　‘高级调查官’？”哈利皱着眉头说，吃了一半的面包片从他指间滑落下来，“这是什么意思？”赫敏大声念道：-214　？在昨晚的一次临时行动中，魔法部通过了新的法令，使其对霍格沃茨魔法学校的控制达到了前所未有的程度。

    “一段时间以来，部长对霍格沃茨的现状日益感到不安。”部长助理珀西‘书斯莱说，“他是听了家长们的担忧之后采取的行动，忧心忡忡的家长们觉得学校似乎正朝着一个他们很不赞成的方向发展。”

    在最近几个星期，部长康奈利福吉已经不是第一次采用新的法令对魔法学校实施改进。就在不久前的8月30日通过了《第二十二号教育令》，确保如果目前的校长不能提供某一教职的候选人，将由魔法部推荐一个合适的人选。

    “多洛雷斯乌姆里奇就是这样被任命为霍格沃茨的教师的，”韦斯莱昨晚说，“邓布利多找不到人，部长就指派了乌姆里奇，不用说，她立刻就大获成功——　”　“她立刻就什么？”哈利大声说。“等等，还没完呢。”赫敏板着脸说。

    “——　立刻就大获成功，使黑魔法防御术课发生了突破性变革，并及时向部长提供霍格沃茨真实状况的现场反馈信息。”

    最近这次临时行动因魔法部《第二十三号教育令》的通过而正式生效，同时产生了霍格沃茨高级调查官这一新的职位。

    “在部长试图控制所谓霍格沃茨教育水平下降的局面计划中，这是一个令人激动的新举措。”韦斯莱说，“调查官将有权审查她的教员同事，确保他们都能达到标准。乌姆里奇教授在其教职之外被授予这一职位，我们很高兴地告诉大家她已经欣然接受。”

    魔法部的这些新措施得到了霍格沃茨学生家长的热烈支持。

    “现在知道邓布利多将得到公正而客观的评价，我总算安心多了。”现年四十一岁的卢修斯马尔福先生昨晚在他威尔特郡的宅邸里说，“我们许多关心自己孩子切身利益的人最近几年一直为邓布利多的古怪决策忧心忡忡，现在得知魔法部正在密切注意这一局面，感到十分欣慰。”

    那些古怪决策，无疑包括任用有争议的教职员工，对此本报已有过评述，包括雇用狼人莱姆斯卢平，二分之一混血巨人鲁伯海格，以及冒牌的前傲罗“疯眼汉”穆迪。

    当然人们还纷纷传言，阿不思邓布利多，一度曾是国际魔法师联合会的主席和威森加摩的首席魔法师，现已不再能够承担管理霍格沃茨这所名校的重任。

    “我认为，任命一位调查官，是保证霍格沃茨拥有一位我们都能信任的-215　？校长的第一步。”一位魔法部内部人士昨晚说。

    威森加摩的元老格丽西尔达马克班斯和提贝卢斯奥格登因抗议给霍格沃茨委派调查官而辞职。

    “霍格沃茨是一所学校，不是康奈利福吉办公室的前哨基地。”马克班斯夫人说，“这是企图进一步败坏阿不思邓布利多的名声，是令人厌恶的行为。”

    （关于马克班斯夫人被指控暗中勾结妖精颠覆集团的详细报道，请见本报第十七版。）赫敏念完了，隔着桌子看着哈利和罗恩。

    “现在总算知道我们怎么会弄来个乌姆里奇了！福吉通过这个‘教育令’硬把她派到了我们这里！现在福吉又给她权力检查其他教师！”赫敏呼吸急促，两只眼睛炯炯发亮，“我真不敢相信。这简直是无耻！”

    “我知道是无耻。”哈利说。他低眼望着放在桌上的右手，看见乌姆里奇逼他刻进皮肤里的那句话还留着的泛自的淡淡痕迹。

    可是罗恩脸上却绽开了一个调皮的微笑。

    “怎么啦？”哈利和赫敏瞪着他同时问道。

    “哦，我迫不及待地想看到麦格教授被检查，”罗恩开心地说，“乌姆里奇挨了打都不会知道是怎么回事。”

    “哎呀，快点吧，”赫敏说着一跃而起，“我们得走了，如果她要检查宾斯的课，我们可不能迟到？？”

    然而乌姆里奇教授并没有检查他们的魔法史课，这节课仍然像上个星期一那样枯燥乏味，后来他们赶去上两节魔药课时，她也不在斯内普的地下教室里。哈利那篇月长石的论文发下来了，顶上一角草草地批着一个又长又尖的黑黑的“D”。

    “如果你在o.w.Ls考试中交出这样的东西，我给你的这个成绩就是你将得到的。”斯内普讥笑着说，一边快步走在全班同学中间，把家庭作业发还给他们，“这应该使你对考试中会出现什么有一个清醒的认识。”

    斯内普走到教室前面，转身面朝着同学们。

    “这次家庭作业的总体水平糟糕透了。如果是考试，你们大多数人都不会及格。我希望，在本星期关于各种不同类型的解毒剂的论文中，你们能够多下一些功夫，不然我就不得不叫那些得了‘D’的笨蛋关禁闭了。”

    他满脸讥笑，马尔福轻轻地嗤笑几声，用虽然很小、但传得很远的声音说：“还有人得了‘D’？哈！”

    哈利意识到赫敏侧脸望过来，想看看他得到了什么成绩。他赶紧把那篇月长石的论文塞进书包，他觉得他宁愿不让别人知道这件事。

    哈利拿定主意，这节课绝不再让斯内普抓到把柄，判他不及格。他把黑板上-216　？的说明反复看了至少三遍才开始操作。他配制出来的增强剂虽然不像赫敏的那样是清澈的碧绿色，但至少是蓝色的，而不像纳威的那样是粉红色的。下课时，他怀着一种示威和宽慰混杂的心情，装了一瓶样品送到斯内普的讲台上。

    “还好，不像上个星期那么糟糕了，是不是？”赫敏说，这时他们离开地下教室走上阶梯，穿过门厅去吃午饭，“家庭作业也不算太坏，是不是？”

    看到罗恩和哈利都没有回答，她又继续说道：“我是说，我并不指望得到最高成绩，因为他是按照0.w.　Ls考试的标准给我们打分的，　但在这个阶段能及格就很令人鼓舞了，你们说不是吗？”

    哈利喉咙里发出一点含糊的声音。

    “当然啦，从现在开始到考试，还会出现很多变化，我们有足够的时间提高和进步，但我们现在得到的成绩就像是一个起点线，是不是？我们可以在此基础上？？”

    他们一起在格兰芬多桌旁坐了下来。“不用说，如果我得到一个‘o’，肯定会兴奋得要命——　”　“赫敏，”罗恩尖刻地说，“　如果你想知道我们得到了什么成绩，就直接问好了。”　“我不——　我不是这意思——　不过，如果你们愿意告诉我——　”　“我得了个‘P’，”罗恩一边说一边把汤舀进自己碗里，“高兴了吧？”“唉，这没有什么可丢脸的，”弗雷德说，他刚和乔治、李乔丹一起来到桌旁，坐在了哈利右边，“一个健康又精神的‘P’，没有什么不好。”　“可是，”赫敏说，“‘P’不是代表？？”“‘差’①，没错，”李乔丹说，“但还是比‘D’强啊，是不是？‘糟透了’③？”哈利觉得脸上一阵发烧，假装被面包卷呛着了，咳嗽了几声。等他缓过劲来，发现赫敏还在大谈特谈0.w.　Ls考试评分等级的事，不禁十分懊丧。“最高成绩‘0’　代表‘优秀’③　，”只听她说道，“然后是‘A’——　”

    “不，是‘E’，”乔治纠正她，？E‘代表’超出预期‘④　。我总是觉得，我和乔治每门功课都应该得到’E‘，　因为我们来参加考试就是超出预期了。“他们都大笑起来，只有赫敏没笑，她不屈不挠地探讨着这个话题：”那么，’E‘后面是’A‘，代表’及格‘⑤，　那是最低的及格线，是不是？“　”没错。“弗雷德说，把整个面包卷在汤里浸了浸，塞进嘴里，一口吞了下去。”那么，’P‘就是’差‘——　“罗恩举起双臂，假装庆祝，”——　然后是’D‘，代表①②③④⑤在英语里，“差”（poor）的第一个字母是P：“糟透了”（dreadful）的第一个字母是D：“优秀”（outstanding）的第一个字母是o：“超出预期”（ExceedsExpectatm’ns）的第一个字母是E，即通常所说的“良好”：“及格”（Acceptable）~第一个字母是A.

    -217　？‘糟透了’。“

    “后面还有‘T’。”乔治提醒他。

    “‘T’？”赫敏问，显然吓了一跳，“比‘D’还要低吗？‘T’代表的是什么呢？”

    ？巨怪‘①。“乔治不假思索地说。

    哈利又笑了起来，尽管他不能肯定乔治是不是在开玩笑。他想象着自己拼命瞒着赫敏，不让她知道他在0.w.Ls中每门功课都得了“T”的情景，便立刻下定决心，从现在起一定要用功学习。

    “你们的课被检查过吗？”弗雷德问他们。

    “没有。”赫敏立刻说，“你们呢？”

    “就在刚才，吃饭之前，”乔治说，“是魔咒课。”

    “怎么样啊？”哈利和赫敏同时问。

    弗雷德耸了耸肩膀。

    “还不算坏。乌姆里奇只是缩在墙角，在写字板上不停地做笔记。你们知道弗立维的脾气，他把乌姆里奇当成一个客人，似乎根本没把这事放在心上。乌姆里奇没说多少话。问了艾丽娅几个问题，打听平常上课是什么样的。艾丽娅回答说课上得非常好，就是这些。”

    “我认为弗立维的分数不会低，”乔治说，“他总是让每个人都能通过考试。”

    “你们今天下午是谁的课？”弗雷德问哈利。

    “特里劳妮——　”

    “算是我见过的一个‘T’②了。”

    “——　还有乌姆里奇本人。”

    “啊，今天你要表现得规矩一点儿，在乌姆里奇面前管住自己的脾气。”乔治说，“如果你再错过魁地奇球训练，安吉利娜肯定要气得发疯。”

    可是哈利用不着等到上黑魔法防御术课才见到乌姆里奇教授。在昏暗的占卜课教室最后排的座位上，哈利正要抽出他的做梦日记，罗恩就用胳膊肘捅了捅他。他转脸一看，只见乌姆里奇教授从地板上的活板门里钻了出来。正在说说笑笑的同学们顿时沉默了，正在走来走去分发《解梦指南》的特里劳妮教授听见教室里的声音突然低了下去，便回过头来。

    “下午好，特里劳妮教授，”乌姆里奇教授又是那种满脸堆笑的样子，“我相信你一定收到我的通知了？上面写着检查你上课的时间和日期。”

    特里劳妮教授板着脸点点头，显得很不高兴，转身背朝乌姆里奇教授，继续发课本。鸟姆里奇教授仍然满脸是笑，抓住离她最近的那把扶手椅的椅背，把它-218　？拉到教室前面，放在特里劳妮教授座位后面几英寸的地方。然后她坐了下来，从花里胡哨的包里掏出写字板，满怀期待地抬起头，等着开始上课。

    特里劳妮教授用微微发抖的双手紧了紧身上裹的披肩，透过那副把眼睛放大了好多倍的大眼镜审视着全班同学。

    “今天我们继续学习有预示性的梦，”她勇敢地用她平常神秘莫测的语气说，然而她的声音有些微微发抖，“请同学们分成两人一组，在《解梦指南》的帮助下，互相解释对方最近在梦里看到的情景。”

    她刚要快步走回自己的座位，突然看见乌姆里奇教授就坐在那旁边，便立刻向左一转朝帕瓦蒂和拉文德走去，她们俩已经在专心讨论帕瓦蒂最近做的一个梦了。

    哈利打开他那本《解梦指南》，一边偷偷地注视着鸟姆里奇。她已经在写字板上记着什么了。几分钟后，她站起来开始跟着特里劳妮在教室里走来走去，听特里劳妮跟同学们的对话，并不时地提出一两个问题。哈利赶紧埋头假装看书。

    “快想一个梦出来，”他对罗恩说，“说不定那个老癞蛤蟆要往这边来了。”

    “我上次说过了，”罗恩抗议道，“这次该你了，你对我说一个吧。”

    “唉，我不知道？？”哈利焦急地说，他一点儿也想不起最近几天做过什么梦，“我就说我梦见？？把斯内普放在我的坩埚里淹死了。行，这个准行？？”

    罗恩乐得咯咯直笑，一边翻开他那本《解梦指南》。

    “好吧，我们要用你的年龄加上你做梦那天的日期，还有主题词的字母个数？？主题词是‘淹死’，还是‘坩埚’，还是‘斯内普’呢？”

    “没关系，随便挑一个吧。”哈利说着冒险朝后面扫了一眼。乌姆里奇教授就站在特里劳妮教授身后，当占卜课老师询问纳威做梦日记写得怎样时，她在写字板上记个不停。

    “你哪天夜里又做了这个梦？”罗恩一边埋头计算一边问道。

    “不知道，昨天夜里吧，你说哪天就哪天。”哈利对他说，一边拼命想听清乌姆里奇在对特里劳妮教授说什么。她们现在跟他和罗恩只隔着一张桌子，乌姆里奇教授又在写字板上记了几笔，特里劳妮教授显得十分恼怒。

    “那么，”乌姆里奇抬头看着特里劳妮，说道，“你在这个岗位上多长时间了，确切地说？”

    特里劳妮教授狠狠地瞪着她，交叉双臂，耸起肩膀，似乎想尽量保护自己不受这种粗暴无礼的调查的伤害。她微微顿了一下，似乎断定这个问题并不那么唐突，她没有理由对它置之不理，使用十分愠怒的口吻说：。差不多十六年了。“

    “时间不短了。”乌姆里奇教授说着又在她的写字板上记了几笔，“这么说是邓布利多教授任用你的？”

    “没错。”特里劳妮教授干脆利落地说。

    -219　？乌姆里奇教授叉记了几笔。

    “你是大名鼎鼎的预言家卡珊德拉特里劳妮的玄孙女？”

    “是的。”特里劳妮教授说，把头昂得更高了一点。

    写字板上又记下了几笔。

    “可是我认为——　如果我说错了你可以纠正——　从卡珊德拉之后，你是你们家族里第一个具有第二视觉的人？”

    “这些事情经常隔代——　嗯——　隔三代遗传的。”特里劳妮教授说。

    乌姆里奇教授那癞蛤蟆似的嘴笑得更大了。

    “当然，”她娇滴滴地说，又记了几笔，“好吧，不知你是否可以为我预言点什么事情，嗯？”她询问地抬起头，依旧满脸堆笑。特里劳妮教授浑身一下子绷紧了，似乎无法相信自己的耳朵。“我不明白你的意思。”她说，战票地抓住围在瘦削的脖子上的披肩。“我希望你能为我做一个预言。”乌姆里奇教授清清楚楚地说。

    现在，从课本后面偷看和偷听的人可不止哈利和罗恩两个了。教室里大多数同学都呆呆地望着特里劳妮教授，只见她把身体挺得笔直，那些珠子和手镯丁丁当当响个不停。

    “天目是不会受命而看的！”她用愤慨的语气说。

    “明白了。”乌姆里奇教授轻轻说，又在她的写字板上记了几笔。

    “我——　可是——　可是？？等一等！”特里劳妮教授突然说，她试图用平常那种虚无飘渺的声音说话，但由于气得全身发抖，破坏了那种声音的神秘效果。“我？？我觉得我确实看见了什么？？是关于你的？？啊，我感觉到了某种东西？？某种黑色的东西？？某种极其危险的？？”

    特里劳妮教授用颤抖的手指指着乌姆里奇教授，乌姆里奇教授的脸上还是那样和蔼可亲地笑着，两根眉毛扬了起来。

    “恐怕？？恐怕你会遇到可怕的危险！”特里劳妮教授戏剧性地结束了她的话。

    一阵静默。乌姆里奇教授的眉毛仍然扬着。

    “好吧，”她轻轻地说，又在写字板上草草划拉了几笔，“好吧，如果你充其量只能做到这点？？”

    她转身走开了，特里劳妮教授呆呆地站在原地，胸脯剧烈地起伏着。哈利和罗恩对了一下眼神，知道罗恩心里的想法跟他完全一样：他们都知道特里劳妮教授是一个大骗子，但另一方面，他们太憎恨乌姆里奇了，觉得情愿偏向特里劳妮一边——　然而几秒钟后她突然对他们发难，他们就不这么想了。

    “怎么样？”特里劳妮教授说，把长长的手指猛地戳到哈利鼻子底下，动作是一反常态地敏捷，“请让我看看你的做梦日记的开头几篇。”

    -220　？当她用最高的嗓门解释完哈利的那些梦（所有的梦，包括关于喝粥的梦，都明显预示着可怕的早天），哈利觉得对她的同情减少了许多。这个时候，乌姆里奇教授一直站在几步开外，在那写字板上记个不停。下课铃响了，她第一个下了银色扶梯，当他们十分钟后赶去上黑魔法防御术课时，她又在那儿等着他们大家了。

    他们走进教室时，她在那里笑眯眯地哼着小曲儿。赫敏刚才去上算术占卜课了，哈利和罗恩一边拿出他们的《魔法防御理论》课本，一边把占卜课上发生的事情都告诉了她。没等赫敏来得及提问，乌姆里奇教授就命令大家安静下来。教室里立刻鸦雀无声。

    “收起魔杖。”她笑容可掬地吩咐大家，那些抱有一线希望把魔杖拿出来的同学，只好失望地又把它们放回书包。“上节课我们学完了第一章，今天我希望你们都把书翻到第十九页，开始读‘第二章，普通防御理论及其起源’。看书时不要讲话。”

    她咧着大嘴、沾沾自喜地微笑着，在讲台后面坐下了。全班同学一齐把书翻到了第十九页，发出一片清晰可闻的叹气声。哈利闷闷不乐地想，不知这本书有没有那么多章节，够他们整个一学年在课上阅读。他正在查看目录里的页码，突然发现赫敏又把手举了起来。

    乌姆里奇教授也注意到了，而且，她似乎已经对可能发生这样的事情想好了对策。她不再假装没有看见赫敏，而是站起来绕过前排课桌，面对面地站在赫敏跟前，然后弯下腰压低声音，不让全班同学听见她说话。“这次又怎么啦，格兰杰小姐？”

    “第二章我已经读过了。”赫敏说。

    “那好，接着读第三章。”

    “那一章我也读过了。我把整本书都读完了。”

    乌姆里奇教授眨眨眼睛，但几乎立刻就恢复了镇定。

    “那好，你应该能够告诉我，在第十五章里，斯林卡关于反恶咒是怎么说的。”

    “他说反恶咒这个字眼不恰当。”赫敏不假思索地说，“他说‘反恶咒’这个字眼实际上是人们用来称呼他们的恶咒的，他们想使那些恶咒听上去更容易被人接受。”

    乌姆里奇教授扬起眉毛，哈利知道她尽管不乐意，却也不由得心服口服。

    “但我不同意。”赫敏继续说。

    乌姆里奇教授的眉毛扬得更高了一些，目光明显变冷了。

    “你不同意？”

    “是的，不同意。”赫敏说，她不像乌姆里奇那样悄声耳语，而是用清晰的、传得很远的声音说话，把全班其他同学的注意力都吸引了过来，“斯林卡先生不喜欢恶咒，是吗？但我认为当恶咒用于防御时，是会非常管用的。”

    -221　？“哦，你这么认为，是吗？”乌姆里奇教授说，忘记了压低声音，并且站直了身体，“恐怕在这个教室里真正重要的是斯林卡先生的观点，而不是你的观点，格兰杰小姐。”

    “可是——　”赫敏刚要说话。

    “够了。”乌姆里奇教授说。她走到教室前面，面对全班同学，刚开始上课时那种喜气洋洋的劲头一下子不见了。“格兰杰小姐，我要给格兰芬多学院扣掉五分。”

    听了这话，教室里一片窃窃私语。

    “为什么？”哈利气愤地问。

    “你别掺和进来！”赫敏焦急地小声对他说。

    “因为用毫无意义的打岔扰乱我的课堂纪律。”乌姆里奇教授流利地说，“我在这里教课采用的是魔法部批准的方法，不包括鼓励学生对他们不很理解的事情发表自己的观点。以前教你们这门课的老师也许给了你们更多的自由，但他们没有一个人能够通过魔法部的调查——　大概奇洛教授除外，至少他似乎只教授适合你们这个年龄的内容——　”

    “是啊，奇洛真是个了不起的好老师，”哈利大声说，“只有一点小小的美中不足，他让伏地魔粘在他的后脑勺上了。”

    这句话一出口，教室里一片沉默，哈利从没听见过这样掷地有声的沉默。接着——“我认为再关一个星期的禁闭会对你有点帮助，波特先生。”乌姆里奇圆滑地说。

    哈利手背上的伤口没有完全愈合，第二天早晨又流血了。晚上关禁闭时他没有叫一声痛，他打定主意不让乌姆里奇感到得意。他一遍又一遍地写“我不可以说谎”，不让一点声音从嘴唇间漏出来，尽管每写一遍伤口就刻得更深。

    正像乔治所预言的，第二个星期关禁闭，最糟糕的后果就是安吉利娜的反应。星期二早上哈利刚到格兰芬多桌旁准备吃早饭，她就堵住他，冲他大发脾气，声音嚷得那么响，使得麦格教授离开教工桌子，飞快地朝他们走来。

    “约翰逊小姐，你怎么敢在礼堂里这样大吵大嚷！格兰芬多扣掉五分！”

    “可是教授——　他叉弄得自己被关禁闭了——　”

    “怎么回事，波特？”麦格教授转过身来对着哈利严厉地问，“禁闭？谁关你禁闭？”

    “乌姆里奇教授。”哈利低声说，不敢去看麦格教授方框眼镜后面那双犀利的眼睛。

    “难道你是说，”她放低声音，不让他们后面那群好奇的拉文克劳们听见，“我-222　？上个星期一警告过你之后，你又在乌姆里奇教授的课堂上发了脾气？，‘”是的。“哈利对着地板小声说。

    “波特，你必须管住自己！你会碰到大麻烦的！格兰芬多再扣掉五分！，‘”可是——　什么——　？教授，不！“哈利被这种不公平的处理惹火了，说道，”我已经被她惩罚了，你为什么还要扣分？“

    “因为关禁闭似乎对你并不起任何作用！”麦格教授尖刻地说，“行了，不许再抱怨一个字，波特！至于你，约翰逊小姐，今后你只许在魁地奇球场上大叫大嚷，不然就有可能丢掉队长的职务！”

    麦格教授大步流星地走回教工桌子。安吉利娜怒不可遏地瞪了哈利一眼。昂首挺胸地走了，哈利一屁股坐在罗恩身边的板凳上，气得不行。“她扣了格兰芬多的分数，就因为我每天晚上手背都被割开！那叫公平吗，公平吗？”“我知道，哥们儿，”罗恩同情地说，把咸肉倒进哈利的盘子里，“她肯定有毛病了。”

    赫敏却只是翻着她的《预言家日报》，什么也没说。

    “你认为麦格做得对，是吗？”哈利气愤地对着遮住赫敏面孔的康奈利。福吉的照片说。

    “我希望她没有给你扣分，但我认为她提醒你别对乌姆里奇发脾气是对的。”赫敏的声音在说话，眼前却是福吉在报纸的头版上穷凶极恶地打着手势，显然他是在发表什么讲话。

    整个魔咒课上，哈利没有跟赫敏说话，但当他们走进变形课教室时，他一下子忘记了跟她生气的事。乌姆里奇教授拿着她的写字板，赫然坐在一个角落里。哈利一看见她，就把吃早饭时的不快抛到了脑后。

    “太好了，”他们在惯常的座位上坐下时，罗恩小声说，“让我们看看乌姆里奇怎么自作自受吧。”

    麦格教授大步走进教室，从她的神情看，似乎根本不知道乌姆里奇教授的存在。

    “好了，”她说，教室里立刻安静下来，“斐尼甘先生，请过来把家庭作业发下去——　布朗小姐，请把这盒子老鼠拿去——　别那么傻，姑娘，它们不会咬你的——　给每个同学分一只——　”

    “咳，咳。”乌姆里奇教授发出咳嗽声，还是她开学第一天晚上用来打断邓布利多的愚蠢的轻咳。麦格教授假装没有听见。西莫把哈利的论文发还给他。哈利没有看他，接过论文，看到自己总算得到了一个“A”，不禁松了口气。

    “好了，同学们，请仔细听好——　迪安托马斯，如果你再那样折腾那只老鼠，我就关你的禁闭——　现在，大多数同学都能顺利地念消失咒让蜗牛消失了，即使那些-223　？还留下一点儿蜗牛壳的同学也都掌握了这个魔咒的要点。今天，我们要——　”

    “咳，咳。”乌姆里奇教授发出咳嗽声。

    “怎么？”麦格教授说着转过身去，两根眉毛聚在一起，似乎形成了一根长长的、令人生畏的直线。

    “教授，我只想知道你有没有收到我的便条，上面通知了调查你上课情况的日期和时——　”

    “我显然是收到了，不然我就会问你跑到我的教室里来做什么了。”麦格教授说着果断地又转身背对着乌姆里奇教授。许多同学交换着喜悦的目光。“正如我刚才说的：今天，我们要练习更难的老鼠消失咒。好，在这里，消失咒——　”

    “咳，咳。”

    “我不明白，”麦格教授转身冲着鸟姆里奇教授，带着怒气冷冷地说，“如果你不停地打断我，又怎么能够了解我平常的教学方法呢？你要知道，我说话时一般是不允许别人说话的。”

    乌姆里奇教授看上去就像被人扇了一记耳光。她没有说话，而是正了正写字板上的羊皮纸，恼羞成怒地草草写了起来。

    麦格教授一副无所谓的样子，再一次对全班同学说道：“我刚才说道：消失咒，随着需要消失的动物越来越复杂，它也越来越难掌握。蜗牛是一种无脊椎动物，挑战性不是很大，而老鼠是一种哺乳动物，要求就高得多了。这可不是你们脑子里惦记着晚饭就能完成的魔法。好了——　咒语你们已经知道了，让我看看你们做得怎么样？？”

    “她还教训我不该对乌姆里奇发脾气呢！”哈利压低声音对罗恩说，但脸上带着调皮的笑容——　他对麦格教授的怨气一下子烟消云散了。

    乌姆里奇教授没有像在特里劳妮教授的课堂上那样，跟着麦格教授在教室里走来走去，也许她意识到麦格教授是不会准许的。她只是坐在角落里往写字板上记了又记，当麦格教授最后叫全班同学收拾东西下课时，她站了起来，一张脸板得吓人。

    “嘿，这就开始了。”罗恩说着拎起一根长长的、不断扭动的老鼠尾巴，扔进拉文德传递过来的盒子里。

    同学们鱼贯走出教室。哈利看见乌姆里奇教授朝讲台走去。他捅了捅罗恩，罗恩又捅了捅赫敏，三个人故意落在后面偷听。

    “你在霍格沃茨任教多长时间了？”乌姆里奇教授问。

    “到今年十二月就满三十九年了。”麦格教授生硬地回答，啪的一声合上了提包。

    乌姆里奇教授记了几笔。

    “很好，”她说，“你将在十天之内收到对你的调查结果。”

    -224　？“我迫不及待。”麦格教授用极其冷漠的口吻说，然后大步朝门口走来，“快点儿，你们三个。”她说，推着哈利、罗恩和赫敏往前走。

    哈利忍不住朝她露出一个淡淡的微笑，并且可以肯定麦格教授也对他笑了笑。

    他以为要等到晚上关禁闭时才会再次看见乌姆里奇呢，可是他错了。当他们顺着草地去上神奇生物保护课时，发现她正抱着她的写字板站在格拉普兰教授身边等着他们呢。

    “你平常不教这门课，是不是？”哈利听见她这么问，这时他们来到长条搁板桌旁，那堆被捕获的护树罗锅正你争我夺地抢吃土鳖，就像无数根有生命的树枝。

    “非常正确，”格拉普兰教授说，两只手背在身后，一下一下地踮着脚尖，“我是代课教师，临时代替海格教授。”

    哈利和罗恩、赫敏交换着不安的目光。马尔福在对克拉布和高尔窃窃私语。他肯定巴不得利用这个机会向一位魔法部官员散布关于海格的流言蜚语。

    “唔，”乌姆里奇教授放低了声音，但哈利仍然能很清楚地听见她说的话，“我不明白——　校长似乎很奇怪地不愿意向我提供这件事的任何情况——　你能不能告诉我是什么原因使海格教授这么长时间没能来上课？”

    哈利看见马尔福急切地抬起头来。

    “恐怕不能，”乌姆里奇教授语调轻快地说，“我知道的并不比你多。只收到猫头鹰捎来的邓布利多的信，问我愿不愿意代两个星期的课。我接受了。我所知道的就只有这么多。好了？？我可以开始了吗？”

    “好吧，请开始吧。”乌姆里奇教授说，在写字板上刷刷地写着。

    乌姆里奇这节课采取了一种不同的方法，她在同学们中间走来走去，询问他们关于神奇生物的知识。大多数同学都能答得很好，哈利的心情稍微好了点儿。至少全班同学在关键时候没有给海格丢脸。

    “总的来说，”乌姆里奇教授在盘问迪安托马斯很长时间之后，回到格拉普兰教授身边，“你作为一个临时代课教师——　我想你也许会说，你是一个客观的局外人。你认为霍格沃茨怎么样？你觉得你从学校的管理人员那里得到了足够的支持吗？”

    “哦，是的，邓布利多很出色，”格拉普兰教授由衷地说，“我对这里的办学方式非常满意，确实非常满意。”

    乌姆里奇显得怀疑但不失礼貌，她在写字板上记了一笔，继续问道：“你打算这一学年给这个班的学生教些什么呢——　当然啦，假设海格教授不回来的话？”

    “哦，我要把O.w.Ls考试中经常会出现的动物都教给他们，”格拉普兰教授说，“剩下来的已经不多了——　他们已经学了独角兽和嗅嗅，我想我们还要学-225　？习庞洛克和猫狸子，确保他们能够辨认嘎嘎精和刺佬儿①，你知道？？”

    “那么，至少你似乎知道自己在做什么。”乌姆里奇教授说，很明显地在写字板上打了个钩儿。哈利不喜欢她格外强调那个“你”字，　更不喜欢她接着又向高尔发问：“对了，我听说这个课上曾有同学受伤？”

    高尔傻乎乎地咧嘴笑了。马尔福急不可耐地抢着回答。

    “是我，”他说，“我被一只鹰头马身有翼兽划伤了。”

    “鹰头马身有翼兽？”乌姆里奇教授说，一边在纸上飞快地写着。

    “那只是因为他自己太傻，不听海格的吩咐。”哈利生气地说。

    罗恩和赫敏都唉声叹气。乌姆里奇教授慢慢地把头转向哈利这边。

    “我想，再关你一晚上禁闭吧。”她温柔地说，“好了，非常感谢，格拉普兰教授，我想我不再需要别的了。你将在十天之内收到对你的调查结果。”

    “好极了。”格拉普兰教授说，于是乌姆里奇教授拔腿穿过草地朝城堡走去。

    那天夜里，当哈利离开乌姆里奇的办公室时，已经差不多半夜了，他的手不停地流血，包手的围巾上都沾染了血迹。他以为他回去时公共休息室里不会有人了，没想到罗恩和赫敏都坐在那里等他呢。他看见他们非常高兴，特别是赫敏表现出了更多的同情，而不是批评。

    “给，”她焦急地说，把一小碗黄色的液体推到他面前。“把你的手浸在里面，这是一种经过过滤和酸洗的莫特拉鼠触角的汁液，应该能管点用。”

    哈利把他疼痛流血的手浸在碗里，疼痛一下子就减轻了，顿时感到舒服极了。克鲁克山绕着他的腿蜷缩起来，大声她呼噜呼噜叫着，然后跳到他的膝头趴了下来。

    “谢谢。”哈利感激地说，用左手挠了挠克鲁克山的耳朵根。

    “我仍然觉得你应该去说说这件事。”罗恩低声说。

    “不。”哈利断然地说。

    “麦格如果知道了，准会气得发疯——　”

    “是啊，她大概会的。”哈利说，“可谁知道过多久乌姆里奇又会通过另一条法令，规定凡是对高级调查官有意见的人都要被立即开除？”

    罗恩张了张嘴想反驳，但什么也没说出来，愣了一会儿，又把嘴合上了，一副垂头丧气的样子。

    “她是个可怕的女人，”赫敏小声说，“可怕。你知道吗，你进来的时候我正在跟罗恩说？？我们必须对她采取一点行动了。”

    ①关于庞洛克、猫狸子和刺佬儿以及下文的莫特拉鼠的详细描写，请见《神奇动物在哪里》一书，人民文学出版社，2001年10月版。

    -226　？“我建议下毒。”罗恩一本正经地说。“不？？我的意思是，我们刚才在说她是一个多么糟糕的老师，从她那里我们根本学不到什么防御黑魔法的知识。”赫敏说。“唉，那我们能有什么办法呢。”罗恩打了个哈欠说，“已经来不及了，是吗？她得到了这份工作，注定要在这里待下去。福吉会保证这一点的。”

    “嗯，”赫敏犹豫不决地说，“是这样，我今天在想？？”她有点紧张地望了哈利一眼，然后继续说道，“我在想——　也许我们应该索性——　索性自己来做了。”

    “自己来做什么？”哈利怀疑地问，他的手仍然泡在莫特拉鼠触角的汁液里。

    “嗯——　我们自己学习黑魔法防御术。”赫敏说。

    “别胡扯了，”罗恩抱怨道，“你想要增加我们的负担？难道你不知道，我和哈利又落下了一堆家庭作业，现在才刚第二个星期？”

    “可是这比家庭作业重要得多！”赫敏说。

    哈利和罗恩瞪大眼睛看着她。

    “我认为世界上再也没有什么比家庭作业更重要的了！”罗恩说。

    “别说傻话，当然有的，”赫敏说，哈利看到她的脸上突然容光焕发，就像平常她对S.P.E.w.表现出来的狂热激情一样，他不由得产生了一种不祥的感觉，“我是说，就像哈利在乌姆里奇的第一节课上说的，我们要做好准备，去对付外面将要等待我们的一切。我是说，我们要确保真的能够保护自己。如果我们整整一年什么也学不到——　”

    “我们自己做不了什么，”罗恩用一种心灰意冷的口吻说，“我是说，不错，我们可以到图书馆从书里找到一些恶咒自己练习，我想——　”

    “不，我认为我们已经过了只从书本上学习东西的阶段了。”赫敏说，“我们需要一个老师，一个合适的老师，他可以教我们怎样使用魔咒，如果我们做得不对，还可以纠正我们。”

    “如果你是在说卢平？？”哈利话没说完。

    “不，不，我不是在说他，”赫敏说，“他整天忙着凤凰社的事，而且，我们最多能在去霍格莫德村过周末时看见他，那个次数是远远不够的。”

    “那么是谁呢？”哈利朝她皱起眉头。

    赫敏深深地吐了一口气。

    “你还看不出来吗？”她说，“我说的是你，哈利。”

    片刻的沉默。夜晚的微风吹得罗恩身后的窗户嘎嘎作响，炉子里的火已经熄灭了。

    “我怎么啦？”哈利说。

    “我是说让你教我们黑魔法防御术。”

    哈利呆呆地瞪着她，然后转向罗恩，想和罗恩交换一下气恼的眼神，有时赫-227　？敏滔滔不绝地阐述S.P.E.w.之类的荒唐计划时，他们常会这样交换眼神。然而令哈利惊愕的是，罗恩的表情并不气恼。

    他微微蹙起眉头，显然是在思考。然后他说：“这倒是个主意。”

    “什么是个主意？”哈利说。

    “你呀，”罗恩说，“教我们大家学魔法。”

    “可是？？”

    哈利脸上露出了笑容，这两个人肯定是在跟他开玩笑呢。“可我不是老师，我不能——　”　“哈利，你是全年级在黑魔法防御术方面最出色的。”赫敏说。“我？”哈利说，笑得比先前更开心了，“我才不是呢，你每次考试成绩都比我好——　”

    “实际上不是的，”赫敏冷静地说，“三年级的时候你就超过了我——　只有那一年我们俩一起经历了那次考验，遇到了一位真正懂行的老师。但我这里讲的不是考试成绩，哈利。想想你做的那些事情！”

    “你是什么意思？”“要我说，我倒不敢肯定我真想要一个这么傻的人来教我呢。”罗恩微微嘲笑地对赫敏说。然后他转向哈利。“让我想想，”他说，一边学着高尔拼命动脑筋时拉长脸的样子，“啊？？第一年——　你从神秘人那里救出了魔法石。”“可那是凭运气，”哈利说，“不是凭技能——　”　“第二年，”罗恩打断了他，“你杀死了蛇怪，消灭了里德尔。”　“是啊，但如果当时福克斯不出现，我——　”

    “第三年，”罗恩的声音更高了，“你一下子击退了一百个摄魂怪——　”

    “你知道那是侥幸，如果时间转换器没有——　”

    “去年，”罗恩简直是在大喊大叫了，“你又一次摆脱了神秘人的魔爪——　”

    “听我说！”哈利几乎是气愤地说，因为现在罗恩和赫敏都在那儿发笑了，“先听我说，好吗？这些事情说起来挺了不起，可全都是凭的运气——　我一半的时间都不知道在做什么，根本就不是计划好的，我只是凭着感觉行事，而且差不多总是能得到帮助——　”

    罗恩和赫敏还在那儿发笑，哈利觉得自己的火气上来了。他自己也不明白为什么这么生气。

    “别一脸坏笑地坐在那儿，好像你们知道得比我还清楚，当时在场的是我，不是吗？”他激动地说，“我知道事情是怎么回事，对吗？我每次能够死里逃生，并不是因为我在黑魔法防御术方面多么出色，我能够侥幸逃脱都是因为——　因为我总能够及时得到帮助，或因为我的感觉还算准确——　但每次我都是糊里糊涂地-228　？过来的，我根本不知道自己在做什么——　别笑啦！”

    那碗莫特拉鼠触角汁掉在地上，碗被摔得粉碎。他这才发现自己站了起来，却不记得是怎么站起来的。克鲁克山溜进了沙发底下。罗恩和赫敏脸上的笑容不见了。

    “你们根本不知道那是什么滋味儿！你们——　你们谁都没有面对过他，是不是？你们以为那只是背诵一大堆魔咒朝他们扔过去，就像你们在课堂上那样？那些时候，你明知道在你和死亡之间没有任何东西，除了你自己——　你自己的智慧，或勇气，或其他什么——　你明知道自己转眼间就会被人杀害，或遭受折磨，或眼睁睁地看着朋友死去，还怎么能够正常地思考，他们从没有在课堂上告诉过我们，跟那样的东西打交道是什么感觉——　而你们两个坐在这里摆出这副样子，就好像我是一个聪明的男孩所以才活着站在这里，就好像塞德里克是个傻瓜，把事情弄糟了——　你们根本不明白，那个人很有可能就是我，如果不是因为伏地魔需要我——　”

    “我没有说过那样的话，哥们儿，”罗恩说，看样子被吓坏了，“我们没有对迪戈里说三道四，没有——　你完全理解错了——　”

    他求助地望着赫敏，赫敏也是一脸的惊慌。

    “哈利，”她战战兢兢地说，“你不明白吗？正因为？？因为这个我们才需要你？？我们需要知道那是什？？什么感觉？？面对着伏一伏地魔。”

    这是她第一次说出伏地魔的名字，也正是这一点使哈利的心情平静了下来。他仍然急促地喘着气，重新坐到了椅子上，这时才意识到他的手又在一跳一跳地剧痛。他真后悔不该打碎那碗莫特拉鼠触角汁。

    “怎么样？？好好考虑考虑，”赫敏小声地说，“好吗？”

    哈利不知道该说什么。他已经为刚才的大发雷霆感到羞愧了。他点点头，其实并不清楚他同意的是什么。

    赫敏站了起来。

    “好吧，我要去睡觉了。”她说，显然在尽量使自己的声音自然一些，“嗯？？晚安。”

    罗恩也站起身来。

    “来吗？”他有点尴尬地对哈利说。

    “好的，”哈利说，“过？？过一会儿吧，我把这里收拾收拾。”

    他指着地上的碎碗。罗恩点点头离开了。

    “恢复如初。”哈利用魔杖指着那些碎瓷片，低声说道。碎片立刻拼拢在一起，瓷碗又完好如初，可是里面的莫特拉鼠触角汁再也回不来了。

他突然感到无比地疲倦，真想倒在扶手椅里睡一觉，但他还是强迫自己站起来，跟在罗恩后面上了楼。夜里他睡得很不踏实，总是梦见那些长长的走廊和紧锁的房门，第二天早晨醒来时，他的伤疤又开始刺痛了。

In the Hog's Head

Hermione made no mention of Harry giving Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons for two whole weeks after her original suggestion. Harry's detentions with Umbridge were finally over (he doubted whether the words now etched into the back of his hand would ever fade entirely); Ron had had four more Quidditch practices and not been shouted at during the last two; and all three of them had managed to Vanish their mice in Transfiguration (Hermione had actually progressed to Vanishing kittens), before the subject was broached again, on a wild, blustery evening at the end of September, when the three of them were sitting in the library, looking up potion ingredients for Snape.
‘I was wondering,’ Hermione said suddenly, ‘whether you'd thought any more about Defence Against the Dark Arts, Harry.’
‘Course I have,’ said Harry grumpily, ‘can't forget it, can we, with that hag teaching us—’
‘I meant the idea Ron and I had—’ Ron cast her an alarmed, threatening kind of look. She frowned at him, ‘—Oh, all right, the idea I had, then—about you teaching us.’
Harry did not answer at once. He pretended to be perusing a page of Asiatic Anti-Venoms, because he did not want to say what was in his mind.
He had given the matter a great deal of thought over the past fortnight. Sometimes it seemed an insane idea, just as it had on the night Hermione had proposed it, but at others, he had found himself thinking about the spells that had served him best in his various encounters with Dark creatures and Death Eaters—found himself, in fact, subconsciously planning lessons ...
‘Well,’ he said slowly, when he could no longer pretend to find Asiatic Anti-Venoms interesting, ‘yeah, I—I've thought about it a bit.’
‘And?’ said Hermione eagerly.
‘I dunno,’ said Harry, playing for time. He looked up at Ron.
‘I thought it was a good idea from the start,’ said Ron, who seemed keener to join in this conversation now that he was sure Harry was not going to start shouting again.
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
‘You did listen to what I said about a load of it being luck, didn't you?’
‘Yes, Harry,’ said Hermione gently, ‘but all the same, there's no point pretending that you're not good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, because you are. You were the only person last year who could throw off the Imperius Curse completely, you can produce a Patronus, you can do all sorts of stuff that full-grown wizards can't, Viktor always said—’
Ron looked round at her so fast he appeared to crick his neck. Rubbing it, he said, ‘Yeah? What did Vicky say?’
‘Ho ho,’ said Hermione in a bored voice. ‘He said Harry knew how to do stuff even he didn't, and he was in the final year at Durmstrang.’
Ron was looking at Hermione suspiciously.
‘You're not still in contact with him, are you?’
‘So what if I am?’ said Hermione coolly, though her face was a little pink. ‘I can have a pen-pal if I—’
‘He didn't only want to be your pen-pal,’ said Ron accusingly.
Hermione shook her head exasperatedly and, ignoring Ron, who was continuing to watch her, said to Harry, ‘Well, what do you think? Will you teach us?’
‘Just you and Ron, yeah?’
‘Well,’ said Hermione, looking a mite anxious again. ‘Well ... now, don't fly off the handle again, Harry, please ... but I really think you ought to teach anyone who wants to learn. I mean, we're talking about defending ourselves against V-Voldemort. Oh, don't be pathetic, Ron. It doesn't seem fair if we don't offer the chance to other people.’
Harry considered this for a moment, then said, ‘Yeah, but I doubt anyone except you two would want to be taught by me. I'm a nutter, remember?’
‘Well, I think you might be surprised how many people would be interested in hearing what you've got to say,’ said Hermione seriously. ‘Look,’ she leaned towards him— Ron, who was still watching her with a frown on his face, leaned forwards to listen too—'you know the first weekend in October's a Hogsmeade weekend? How would it be if we tell anyone who's interested to meet us in the village and we can talk it over?’
‘Why do we have to do it outside school?’ said Ron.
‘Because,’ said Hermione, returning to the diagram of the Chinese Chomping Cabbage she was copying, ‘I don't think Umbridge would be very happy if she found out what we were up to.’
Harry had been looking forward to the weekend trip into Hogsmeade, but there was one thing worrying him. Sirius had maintained a stony silence since he had appeared in the fire at the beginning of September; Harry knew they had made him angry by saying they didn't want him to come—but he still worried from time to time that Sirius might throw caution to the winds and turn up anyway. What were they going to do if the great black dog came bounding up the street towards them in Hogsmeade, perhaps under the nose of Draco Malfoy?
‘Well, you can't blame him for wanting to get out and about,’ said Ron, when Harry discussed his fears with him and Hermione. ‘I mean, he's been on the run for over two years, hasn't he, and I know that can't have been a laugh, but at least he was free, wasn't he? And now he's just shut up all the time with that ghastly elf.’
Hermione scowled at Ron, but otherwise ignored the slight on Kreacher.
‘The trouble is,’ she said to Harry, ‘until V-Voldemort—oh, for heaven's sake,Ron— comes out into the open, Sirius is going to have to stay hidden, isn't he? I mean, the stupid Ministry isn't going to realise Sirius is innocent until they accept that Dumbledore's been telling the truth about him all along. And once the fools start catching real Death Eaters again, it'll be obvious Sirius isn't one ... I mean, he hasn't got the Mark, for one thing.’
‘I don't reckon he'd be stupid enough to turn up,’ said Ron bracingly. ‘Dumbledore'd go mad if he did and Sirius listens to Dumbledore even if he doesn't like what he hears.’
When Harry continued to look worried, Hermione said, ‘Listen, Ron and I have been sounding out people who we thought might want to learn some proper Defence Against the Dark Arts, and there are a couple who seem interested. We've told them to meet us in Hogsmeade.’
‘Right,’ said Harry vaguely, his mind still on Sirius.
‘Don't worry, Harry,’ Hermione said quietly. ‘You've got enough on your plate without Sirius, too.’
She was quite right, of course, he was barely keeping up with his homework, though he was doing much better now that he was no longer spending every evening in detention with Umbridge. Ron was even further behind with his work than Harry, because while they both had Quidditch practice twice a week, Ron also had his prefect duties. However, Hermione, who was taking more subjects than either of them, had not only finished all her homework but was also finding time to knit more elf clothes. Harry had to admit that she was getting better; it was now almost always possible to distinguish between the hats and the socks.
The morning of the Hogsmeade visit dawned bright but windy. Alter breakfast they queued up in front of Filch, who matched their names to the long list of students who had permission from their parents or guardian to visit the village. With a slight pang, Harry remembered that if it hadn't been for Sirius, he would not have been going at all.
When Harry reached Filch, the caretaker gave a great sniff as though trying to detect a whiff of something from Harry. Then he gave a curt nod that set his jowls aquiver again and Harry walked on, out on to the stone steps and the cold, sunlit day.
‘Er—why was Filch sniffing you?’ asked Ron, as he, Harry and Hermione set off at a brisk pace down the wide drive to the gates.
‘I suppose he was checking for the smell of Dungbombs,’ said Harry with a small laugh. ‘I forgot to tell you ...’
And he recounted the story of sending his letter to Sirius and Filch bursting in seconds later, demanding to see the letter. To his slight surprise, Hermione found this story highly interesting, much more, indeed, than he did himself.
‘He said he was tipped off you were ordering Dungbombs? But who tipped him off?’
‘I dunno,’ said Harry, shrugging. ‘Maybe Malfoy he'd think it was a laugh.’
They walked between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars and turned left on to the road into the village, the wind whip-, ping their hair into their eyes.
‘Malfoy?’ said Hermione, sceptically. ‘Well ... yes ... maybe ...’
And she remained deep in thought all the way into the outskirts of Hogsmeade.
‘Where are we going, anyway?’ Harry asked. ‘The Three Broomsticks?’
‘Oh—no,’ said Hermione, coming out of her reverie, ‘no, it's always packed and really noisy. I've told the others to meet us in the Hog's Head, that other pub, you know the one, it's not on the main road. I think it's a bit ... you know ... dodgy ... but students don't normally go in there, so I don't think we'll be overheard.’
They walked down the main street past Zonko's Wizarding Joke Shop, where they were not surprised to see Fred, George and Lee Jordan, past the post office, from which owls issued at regular intervals, and turned up a side-street at the top of which stood a small inn. A battered wooden sign hung from a rusty bracket over the door, with a picture on it of a wild boar's severed head, leaking blood on to the white cloth around it. The sign creaked in the wind as they approached. All three of them hesitated outside the door.
‘Well, come on,’ said Hermione, slightly nervously. Harry led the way inside.
It was not at all like the Three Broomsticks, whose large bar gave an impression of gleaming warmth and cleanliness. The Hog's Head bar comprised one small, dingy and very dirty room that smelled strongly of something that might have been goats. The bay windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, which was lit instead with the stubs of candles sitting on rough wooden tables. The floor seemed at first glance to be compressed earth, though as Harry stepped on to it he realised that there was stone beneath what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries.
Harry remembered Hagrid mentioning this pub in his first year: ‘Yeh get a lot o’ funny folk in the Hog's Head,’ he had said, explaining how he had won a dragon's egg from a hooded stranger there. At the time Harry had wondered why Hagrid had not found it odd that the stranger kept his face hidden throughout their encounter; now he saw that keeping your face hidden was something of a fashion in the Hog's Head. There was a man at the bar whose whole head was wrapped in dirty grey bandages, though he was still managing to gulp endless glasses of some smoking, fiery substance through a slit over his mouth; two figures shrouded in hoods sat at a table in one of the windows; Harry might have thought them dementors if they had not been talking in strong Yorkshire accents, and in a shadowy corner beside the fireplace sat a witch with a thick, black veil that fell to her toes. They could just see the tip of her nose because it caused the veil to protrude slightly.
‘I don't know about this, Hermione,’ Harry muttered, as they crossed to the bar. He was looking particularly at the heavily veiled witch. ‘Has it occurred to you Umbridge might be under that?’
Hermione cast an appraising eye over the veiled figure.
‘Umbridge is shorter than that woman,’ she said quietly. ‘And anyway, even if Umbridge does come in here there's nothing she can do to stop us, Harry, because I've double- and triple-checked the school rules. We're not out of bounds; I specifically asked Professor Flitwick whether students were allowed to come in the Hog's Head, and he said yes, but he advised me strongly to bring our own glasses. And I've looked up everything I can think of about study groups and homework groups and they're definitely allowed. I just don't think it's a good idea if we parade what we're doing.’
‘No,’ said Harry drily, ‘especially as it's not exactly a homework group you're planning, is it?’
The barman sidled towards them out of a back room. He was a grumpy-looking old man with a great deal of long grey hair and beard. He was tall and thin and looked vaguely familiar to Harry.
‘What?’ he grunted.
‘Three Butterbeers, please,’ said Hermione.
The man reached beneath the counter and pulled up three very dusty, very dirty bottles, which he slammed on the bar.
‘Six Sickles,’ he said.
‘I'll get them,’ said Harry quickly, passing over the silver. The barman's eyes travelled over Harry, resting for a fraction of a second on his scar. Then he turned away and deposited Harry's money in an ancient wooden till whose drawer slid open automatically to receive it. Harry, Ron and Hermione retreated to the furthest table from the bar and sat down, looking around. The man in the dirty grey bandages rapped the counter with his knuckles and received another smoking drink from the barman.
‘You know what?’ Ron murmured, looking over at the bar with enthusiasm. ‘We could order anything we liked in here. I bet that bloke would sell us anything, he wouldn't care. I've always wanted to try Firewhisky—’
‘You—are—a—prefect,’ snarled Hermione.
‘Oh,’ said Ron, the smile fading from his face. ‘Yeah ...’
‘So, who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?’ Harry asked, wrenching open the rusty top of his Butterbeer and taking a swig.
‘Just a couple of people,’ Hermione repeated, checking her watch and looking anxiously towards the door. ‘I told them to be here about now and I'm sure they all know where it is—oh, look, this might be them now.’
The door of the pub had opened. A thick band of dusty sunlight split the room in two for a moment and then vanished, blocked by the incoming rush of a crowd of people.
First came Neville with Dean and Lavender, who were closely followed by Parvati and Padma Patil with (Harry's stomach did a back-flip) Cho and one of her usually-giggling girlfriends, then (on her own and looking so dreamy she might have walked in by accident) Luna Lovegood; then Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, Colin and Dennis Creevey Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff girl with a long plait clown her back whose name Harry did not know; three Ravenclaw boys he was pretty sure were called Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Terry Boot, Ginny, closely followed by a tall skinny blond boy with an upturned nose whom Harry recognised vaguely as being a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and, bringing up the rear, Fred and George Weasley with their friend Lee Jordan, all three of whom were carrying large paper bags crammed with Zonko's merchandise.
‘A couple of people?’ said Harry hoarsely to Hermione. ‘A couple of people?’
‘Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular,’ said Hermione happily. ‘Ron, do you want to pull up some more chairs?’
The barman had frozen in the act of wiping out a glass with a rag so filthy it looked as though it had never been washed. Possibly, he had never seen his pub so full.
‘Hi,’ said Fred, reaching the bar first and counting his companions quickly, ‘could we have ... twenty-five Butterbeers, please?’
The barman glared at him for a moment, then, throwing down his rag irritably as though he had been interrupted in something very important, he started passing up dusty Butterbeers from under the bar.
‘Cheers,’ said Fred, handing them out. ‘Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these ...’
Harry watched numbly as the large chattering group took their beers from Fred and rummaged in their robes to find coins. He could not imagine what all these people had turned up for until the horrible thought occurred to him that they might be expecting same kind of speech, at which he rounded on Hermione.
‘What have you been telling people?’ he said in a low voice. ‘What are they expecting?’
‘I've told you, they just want to hear what you've got to say,’ said Hermione soothingly; but Harry continued to look at her so furiously that she added quickly, ‘you don't have to do anything yet, I'll speak to them first.’
‘Hi, Harry,’ said Neville, beaming and taking a seat opposite him.
Harry tried to smile back, but did not speak; his mouth was exceptionally dry. Cho had just smiled at him and sat down on Ron's right. Her friend, who had curly reddish-blonde hair, did not smile, but gave Harry a thoroughly mistrustful look which plainly told him that, given her way, she would not be here at all.
In twos and threes the new arrivals settled around Harry, Ron and Hermione, some looking rather excited, others curious, Luna Lovegood gazing dreamily into space. When everybody had pulled up a chair, the chatter died out. Every eye was upon Harry.
‘Er,’ said Hermione, her voice slightly higher than usual out of nerves. ‘Well—er—hi.’
The group focused its attention on her instead, though eyes continued to dart back regularly to Harry.
‘Well ... erm ... well, you know why you're here. Erm ... well, Harry here had the idea—I mean’ (Harry had thrown her a sharp look) ‘I had the idea—that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defence Against the Dark Arts—and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us— ‘(Hermione's voice became suddenly much stronger and more confident) ‘— because nobody could call that Defence Against the Dark Arts—’ ('Hear, hear,’ said Anthony Goldstein, and Hermione looked heartened) ‘—Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands.’
She paused, looked sideways at Harry and went on, ‘And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just in theory but doing the real spells—’
‘You want to pass your Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL too, though, I bet?’ said Michael Corner, who was watching her closely.
‘Of course I do,’ said Hermione at once. ‘But more than that, I want to be properly trained in defence because ... because ...’ she took a great breath and finished, ‘because Lord Voldemort is back.’
The reaction was immediate and predictable. Cho's friend shrieked and slopped Butterbeer down herself; Terry Boot gave a kind of involuntary twitch; Padma Patil shuddered, and Neville gave an odd yelp that he managed to turn into a cough. All of them, however, looked fixedly, even eagerly, at Harry.
‘Well ... that's the plan, anyway,’ said Hermione. ‘If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to—’
‘Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?’ said the blond Hufflepuff player in a rather aggressive voice.
‘Well, Dumbledore believes it—’ Hermione began.
‘You mean, Dumbledore believes him,’ said the blond boy, nodding at Harry.
‘Who are you?’ said Ron, rather rudely.
‘Zacharias Smith,’ said the boy, ‘and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who's back.’
‘Look,’ said Hermione, intervening swiftly, ‘that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about—’
‘It's OK, Hermione,’ said Harry.
It had just dawned on him why there were so many people there. He thought Hermione should have seen this coming. Some of these people—maybe even most of them—had turned up in the hopes of hearing Harry's story firsthand.
‘What makes me say You-Know-Who's back?’ he repeated, looking Zacharias straight in the face. ‘I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you won't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone.’
The whole group seemed to have held its breath while Harry spoke. Harry had the impression that even the barman was listening. He was wiping the same glass with the filthy rag, making it steadily dirtier.
Zacharias said dismissively, ‘All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know—’
‘If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you,’ Harry said. His temper, always so close to the surface these days, was rising again. He did not take his eyes from Zacharias Smith's aggressive face, and was determined not to look at Cho. ‘I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out.’
He cast an angry look in Hermione's direction. This was, he felt, all her fault; she had decided to display him like some sort of freak and of course they had all turned up to see just now wild his story was. But none of them left their seats, not even Zacharias Smith, though he continued to gaze intently at Harry.
‘So,’ said Hermione, her voice very high-pitched again. ‘So ... like I was saying ... if you want to learn some defence, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet and where we're going to—’
‘Is it true,’ interrupted the girl with the long plait down her back, looking at Harry, ‘that you can produce a Patronus?’
There was a murmur of interest around the group at this.
‘Yeah,’ said Harry slightly defensively.
‘A corporeal Patronus?’
The phrase stirred something in Harry's memory.
‘Er—you don't know Madam Bones, do you?’ he asked.
The girl smiled.
‘She's my auntie,’ she said. ‘I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So—is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?’
‘Yes,’ said Harry.
‘Blimey, Harry!’ said Lee, looking deeply impressed. ‘I never knew that!’
‘Mum told Ron not to spread it around,’ said Fred, grinning at Harry. ‘She said you got enough attention as it was.’
‘She's not wrong,’ mumbled Harry, and a couple of people laughed.
The veiled witch sitting alone shifted very slightly in her seat.
‘And did you kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?’ demanded Terry Boot. ‘That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year ...’
‘Er—yeah, I did, yeah,’ said Harry.
Justin Finch-Fletchley whistled; the Creevey brothers exchanged awestruck looks and Lavender Brown said ‘Wow!’ softly. Harry was feeling slightly hot around the collar now; he was determinedly looking anywhere but at Cho.
‘And in our first year,’ said Neville to the group at large, ‘he saved that Philological Stone— ’
‘Philosopher's,’ hissed Hermione.
‘Yes, that—from You-Know-Who,’ finished Neville.
Hannah Abbotts eyes were as round as Galleons.
‘And that's not to mention,’ said Cho (Harry's eyes snapped across to her; she was looking at him, smiling; his stomach did another somersault) ‘all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year—getting past dragons and merpeople and Acromantula and things ...’
There was a murmur of impressed agreement around the table. Harry's insides were squirming. He was trying to arrange his face so that he did not look too pleased with himself. The fact that Cho had just praised him made it much, much harder for him to say the thing he had sworn to himself he would tell them.
‘Look,’ he said, and everyone fell silent at once, ‘I ... I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but ... I had a lot of help with all that stuff ...’
‘Not with the dragon, you didn't,’ said Michael Corner at once. ‘That was a seriously cool bit of flying ...’
‘Yeah, well—’ said Harry, feeling it would be churlish to disagree.
‘And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer,’ said Susan Bones.
‘No,’ said Harry, ‘no, OK, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is—’
‘Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?’ said Zacharias Smith.
‘Here's an idea,’ said Ron loudly, before Harry could speak, ‘why don't you shut your mouth?’
Perhaps the word ‘weasel’ had affected Ron particularly strongly. In any case, he was now looking at Zacharias as though he would like nothing better than to thump him. Zacharias flushed.
‘Well, we've all turned up to learn from him and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it,’ he said.
‘That's not what he said,’ snarled Fred.
‘Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?’ enquired Greorge, pulling a long and lethal-looking metal instrument from inside one of the Zonko's bags.
‘Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this,’ said Fred.
‘Yes, well,’ said Hermione hastily, moving on ...'the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?’
There was a murmur of general agreement. Zacharias folded his arms and said nothing, though perhaps this was because he was too busy keeping an eye on the instrument in Fred's hand.
‘Right,’ said Hermione, looking relieved that something had at last been settled. ‘Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week—’
‘Hang on,’ said Angelina, ‘we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice.’
‘No,’ said Cho, ‘nor with ours.’
‘Nor ours,’ added Zacharias Smith.
‘I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone,’ said Hermione, slightly impatiently, ‘but you know, this is rather important, we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort's Death Eaters—’
‘Well said!’ barked Ernie Macmillan, who Harry had been expecting to speak long before this. ‘Personally, I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with our OWLs coming up!’
He looked around impressively, as though waiting for people to cry ‘Surely not!’ When nobody spoke, he went on, ‘I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher on us at this critical period. Obviously, they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells—’
‘We think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defence Against the Dark Arts,’ said Hermione, ‘is that she's got some ... some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he'd mobilise us against the Ministry.’
Nearly everybody looked stunned at this news; everybody except Luna Lovegood, who piped up, ‘Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army.’
‘What?’ said Harry, completely thrown by this unexpected piece of information.
‘Yes, he's got an army of Heliopaths,’ said Luna solemnly.
‘No, he hasn't,’ snapped Hermione.
‘Yes, he has,’ said Luna.
‘What are Heliopaths?’ asked Neville, looking blank.
‘They're spirits of fire,’ said Luna, her protuberant eyes widening so that she looked madder than ever, ‘great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of—’
‘They don't exist, Neville,’ said Hermione tartly.
‘Oh, yes, they do!’ said Luna angrily.
‘I'm sorry, but where's the proof of that?’ snapped Hermione.
‘There are plenty of eye-witness accounts. Just because you're so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you—’
‘Hem, hem,’ said Ginny, in such a good imitation of Professor Umbridge that several people looked around in alarm and then laughed. ‘Weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet and have defence lessons?’
‘Yes,’ said Hermione at once, ‘yes, we were, you're right, Ginny.’
‘Well, once a week sounds cool,’ said Lee Jordan.
‘As long as—’ began Angelina.
‘Yes, yes, we know about the Quidditch,’ said Hermione in a tense voice. ‘Well, the other thing to decide is where we're going to meet ...’
This was rather more difficult; the whole group fell silent.
‘Library?’ suggested Katie Bell after a few moments.
‘I can't see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library,’ said Harry.
‘Maybe an unused classroom?’ said Dean.
‘Yeah,’ said Ron, ‘McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practising for the Tri wizard.’
But Harry was pretty certain that McGonagall would not be so accommodating this time. For all that Hermione had said about study and homework groups being allowed, he had the distinct feeling that this one might be considered a lot more rebellious.
‘Right, well, we'll try to find somewhere,’ said Hermione. ‘We'll send a message round to everybody when we've got a time and a place for the first meeting.’
She rummaged in her bag and produced parchment and a quill, then hesitated, rather as though she was steeling herself to say something.
‘I—I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think,’ she took a deep breath, ‘that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge or anybody else what we're up to.’
Fred reached out for the parchment and cheerfully wrote his signature, but Harry noticed at once that several people looked less than happy at the prospect of putting their names on the list.
‘Er ...’ said Zacharias slowly, not taking the parchment that George was trying to pass to him, ‘well ... I'm sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is.’
But Ernie was looking rather hesitant about signing, too. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.
‘I—well, we are prefects,’ Ernie burst out. ‘And if this list was found ... well, I mean to say ... you said yourself, if Umbridge finds out—’
‘You just said this group was the most important thing you'd do this year,’ Harry reminded him.
‘I—yes,’ said Ernie, ‘yes, I do believe that, it's just—’
‘Ernie, do you really think I'd leave that list lying around?’ said Hermione testily.
‘No. No, of course not,’ said Ernie, looking slightly less anxious. ‘I—yes, of course I'll sign.’
Nobody raised objections after Ernie, though Harry saw Cho's friend give her a rather reproachful look before adding her own name. When the last person—Zacharias— had signed, Hermione took the parchment back and slipped it carefully into her bag. There was an odd feeling in the group now. It was as though they had just signed some kind of contract.
‘Well, time's ticking on,’ said Fred briskly, getting to his feet. ‘George, Lee and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, we'll be seeing you all later.’
In twos and threes the rest of the group took their leave, too.
Cho made rather a business of fastening the catch on her bag before leaving, her long dark curtain of hair swinging forwards to hide her face, but her friend stood beside her, arms folded, clicking her tongue, so that Cho had little choice but to leave with her. As her friend ushered her through the door, Cho looked back and waved at Harry.
‘Well, I think that went quite well,’ said Hermione happily, as she, Harry and Ron walked out of the Hog's Head into the bright sunlight a few moments later. Harry and Ron were clutching their bottles of Butterbeer.
‘That Zacharias bloke's a wart,’ said Ron, who was glowering after the figure of Smith, just discernible in the distance.
‘I don't like him much, either,’ admitted Hermione, ‘but he overheard me talking to Ernie and Hannah at the Hufflepuff table and he seemed really interested in coming, so what could I say? But the more people the better really—I mean, Michael Corner and his friends wouldn't have come if he hadn't been going out with Ginny—’
Ron, who had been draining the last few drops from his Butterbeer bottle, gagged and sprayed Butterbeer down his front.
‘He's WHAT?’ spluttered Ron, outraged, his ears now resembling curls of raw beef. ‘She's going out with—my sister's going—what d'you mean, Michael Corner?’
‘Well, that's why he and his friends came, I think—well, they're obviously interested in learning defence, but if Ginny hadn't told Michael what was going on—’
‘When did this— when did she—?’
‘They met at the Yule Ball and got together at the end of last year,’ said Hermione composedly. They had turned into the High Street and she paused outside Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, where there was a handsome display of pheasant feather quills in the window. ‘Hmm ... I could do with a new quill.’
She turned into the shop. Harry and Ron followed her.
‘Which one was Michael Corner?’ Ron demanded furiously.
‘The dark one,’ said Hermione.
‘I didn't like him,’ said Ron at once.
‘Big surprise,’ said Hermione under her breath.
‘But,’ said Ron, following Hermione along a row of quills in copper pots, ‘I thought Ginny fancied Harry!’
Hermione looked at him rather pityingly and shook her head.
‘Ginny used to fancy Harry, but she gave up on him months ago. Not that she doesn't like you, of course,’ she added kindly to Harry while she examined a long black and gold quill.
Harry, whose head was still full of Cho's parting wave, did not find this subject quite as interesting as Ron, who was positively quivering with indignation, but it did bring something home to him that until now he had not really registered.
‘So that's why she talks now?’ he asked Hermione. ‘She never used to talk in front of me.’
‘Exactly,’ said Hermione. ‘Yes, I think I'll have this one ...’
She went up to the counter and handed over fifteen Sickles and two Knuts, with Ron still breathing down her neck.
‘Ron,’ she said severely as she turned and trod on his feet, ‘this is exactly why Ginny hasn't told you she's seeing Michael, she knew you'd take it badly. So don't harp on about it, for heaven's sake.’
‘What d'you mean? Who's taking anything badly? I'm not going to harp on about anything ...’ Ron continued to chunter under his breath all the way down the street.
Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry and then said in an undertone, while Ron was still muttering imprecations about Michael Corner, ‘And talking about Michael and Ginny ... what about Cho and you?’
‘What d'you mean?’ said Harry quickly.
It was as though boiling water was rising rapidly inside him; a burning sensation that was causing his face to smart in the cold—had he been that obvious?
‘Well,’ said Hermione, smiling slightly, ‘she just couldn't keep her eyes off you, could she?’
Harry had never before appreciated just how beautiful the village of Hogsmeade was.

在猪头酒吧

    自从第一次提出让哈利讲授黑魔法防御术课的建议之后，赫敏整整两个星期没有再提这件事。哈利在乌姆里奇那里的关禁闭终于结束了（他怀疑那行已深深刻进手背的文字恐怕永远不会完全消失了），罗恩又参加了四次魁地奇球训练，最后两次没有受到大声喝斥。在变形课上，他们三个都成功地念咒让老鼠消失了（实际上赫敏已经更进一步，在练习让小猫消失的魔咒了）。然后，在九月底一个狂风大作的夜晚，他们三个坐在图书馆里，为斯内普查找魔药成分时，这个话题又被提了出来。

    “我很想知道，”赫敏突然说道，“你有没有再考虑过黑魔法防御术的事，哈利。”

    “当然考虑过，”哈利没好气地说，“怎么能忘记呢，有那个母夜叉在教我们——　”

    “我指的是我和罗恩的那个主意——　”罗恩用惊恐的、带有威胁的目光瞪了-230　？她一眼。她朝罗恩皱起眉头，“——　哦，好吧，就说是我的那个主意——　由你来教我们。”

    哈利没有马上回答。他在假装仔细阅读《亚洲抗毒大全》中的一页，因为他不想把脑子里的想法说出来。

    在刚刚过去的两个星期里，他对这件事情考虑了很多。有时觉得这是一个荒唐的念头，就像赫敏刚提出来的那天晚上一样，有时却发现自己在思索他与黑魔法生物和食死徒的各种交锋中，最起作用的那些魔咒——　发现自己实际上是在备课？？“嗯，”他不能再假装对《亚洲抗毒大全》感兴趣了，于是慢悠悠地说，“是啊，我——　我是想过一点儿。”

    “说下去。”赫敏急切地说。

    “我也说不好。”哈利拖延着时间。他抬头看着罗恩。

    “我从一开始就觉得这是一个好主意。”罗恩说，他看到哈利肯定不会再大吵大嚷了，便似乎比较热心参与这场谈话了。

    哈利局促地在椅子上动来动去。

    “你们听我说了那一切全靠运气，是不是？”

    “是的，哈利，”赫敏温和地说，“可是，你假装在黑魔法防御术方面不出色是没有用的，因为你确实是出色的。去年，只有你一个人能彻底摆脱夺魂咒，你能变出一个守护神，你能做到各种就连成年巫师也做不到的事情，威克多尔以前总是说——　”

    罗恩猛地把头转向她，速度太快，似乎把脖子都拧痛了。他一边揉着脖子一边说：“什么？威克多尔说什么啦？”

    “哦，哦，”赫敏用腻烦的口吻说，“他说哈利会的魔法就连他也不会，jiii他当时在德姆斯特朗上最后一年级了。”

    罗恩怀疑地打量着赫敏。

    “你该不会还跟他保持着联系吧？”

    “是又怎么样？”赫敏冷冷地说，但她的脸微微有些泛红，“我也可以有一个笔友嘛——　”

    “他可不只是想做你的笔友。”罗恩指责地说。

    赫敏气恼地摇了摇头，没理睬继续注视着她的罗恩，对哈利说道：“那么，你是怎么想的呢？你会教我们吗？”

    “就教你和罗恩，是吗？”

    “嗯，”赫敏说，看上去又有一点不安，“嗯？？你听了可千万别再发脾气，哈利，求求你了？？但我确实认为，只要有谁想学，你都应该教他们。我是说，我们是在谈论如何保护自己，抵抗伏一伏地魔。哦，别那么垂头丧气，罗恩。如果我-231　？们不给其他人提供机会，似乎不太公平。”

    哈利考虑了片刻，然后说道：“是啊，但我怀疑除了你们俩，还有谁会愿意我去教他们呢。别忘了我是一个怪物！”

    “嘿，我想，当你知道竟然有那么多人有兴趣听你讲话时，你恐怕会感到吃惊的。”赫敏认真地说。“瞧，”她朝他探过身——　罗恩仍然皱着眉头注视着她，这时也凑上前来听——　“知道吗，十月的第一个周末我们要去霍格莫德？我们不妨叫每个感兴趣的人在村里跟我们见见面，好好议一议这件事，怎么样？”

    “我们为什么一定要弄到校外去呢？”罗恩问。

    “因为，”赫敏说，一边低头继续抄写那张中国咬人甘蓝的图表，“如果乌姆里奇发现了我们要做的事情，我想她肯定不会很高兴的。”

    哈利一直盼望着到霍格莫德村去过周末，但是有一件事让他很担心。小天狼星自从九月初在炉火中出现过一次之后，这么长时间都没有音讯。哈利知道，他们当时说不想让他来，一定惹得他很不高兴——　但是他有时仍然担心小天狼星会不顾一切，鲁莽行事，出现在村子里。如果到了霍格莫德村，一条大黑狗在路上冲他们奔来，说不定就在德拉科马尔福的鼻子底下，那可怎么办呢？“我说，你不能怪他想出来散散心。”当哈利把他的担忧告诉罗恩和赫敏时，罗恩说道，“我是说，他在外面逃跑了两年多，是不是，我知道那并不是什么好玩的事，但至少那时候他是自由的，是不是？现在却整天跟那个可怕的小精灵关在一起。”

    赫敏气呼呼地瞪着罗恩，但她对罗恩这样轻视克利切并没有作更多的表示。

    “问题是，”她对哈利说，“在伏一伏地魔——　哦，看在老天的分儿上，别这样，罗恩——　在他公开出现之前，小天狼星不得不一直隐藏着。是不是？我是说，愚蠢的魔法部先要承认邓布利多说的关于他的话都是真的，才会意识到小天狼星是无辜的。一旦那些傻瓜又开始捉拿真正的食死徒时，大家便会看出小天狼星不是食死徒了？？我是说，至少他没有标记呀。”

    “我认为他不会傻乎乎地跑到这里来。”罗恩安慰他们道，“如果他这么做，邓布利多肯定会气得发疯，而小天狼星是很听邓布利多的话的，尽管他并不喜欢那些意见。”

    看到哈利还是一脸担忧的神情，赫敏说：“听着，罗恩和我一直在试探那些我们认为可能想学习一些正规的黑魔法防御术的人，有两三个人似乎很感兴趣。我们叫他们在霍格莫德村跟我们碰面。”

    “好的。”哈利淡淡地说，心里还在想着小天狼星。

    “不要担心，哈利，”赫敏轻声说，“你要做的事情已经够多，别老惦记着小天狼星了。”

    -232　？她说得当然很对，哈利的家庭作业只是勉强能够按时完成，尽管现在不用每天晚上到乌姆里奇那里关禁闭了，他觉得轻松了不少。罗恩的功课落得比哈利还要多，因为他们俩都要参加每星期两次的魁地奇球训练，罗恩还要履行级长的职责。而赫敏呢，她选的科目比他们俩都多，却不仅做完了所有的家庭作业，还能找到时间给小精灵织衣服。哈利不得不承认她的手艺越来越好，现在几乎可以分得出哪些是帽子，哪些是袜子了。

    到霍格莫德村去的那天早晨，天气晴朗，但是有风。吃过早饭，他们在费尔奇面前排起了长队，他要对着那张长长的名单核对他们的名字，名单上列的是家长或监护人允许他们拜访霍格莫德村的同学。哈利突然揪心地想到，如果不是小天狼星，他根本就去不成。

    哈利走到费尔奇面前时，管理员使劲嗅了嗅鼻子，似乎想从哈利身上闻出什么东西的气味。然后他草草点了下头，下巴上的垂肉又颤抖起来，哈利继续往前走，来到石阶上，来到寒冷的阳光灿烂的户外。

    “嗯——　费尔奇为什么使劲嗅你？”罗恩问，这时候，他、哈利和赫敏正迈着轻快的脚步，走在通往大门的宽阔车道上。“我猜他是想闻闻有没有大粪蛋的气味吧，”哈利轻声笑着说，“我忘记告诉你们了？？”

    他把给小天狼星寄信、费尔奇几秒钟后冲进来要求看信的事原原本本地讲给他们听。使他微微感到吃惊的是，赫敏对这件事非常感兴趣，甚至比哈利自己还要感兴趣得多。

    “他说他得到情报，你在订购大粪蛋？那么是谁向他提供情报的呢？”“不知道，”哈利耸了耸肩膀说，“大概是马尔福吧，他会觉得这是一个笑柄。”他们从顶上立着带翼野猪的高高石柱之间穿过，向左拐到通往村子的路上，风把他们的头发吹得挡住了眼睛。

    “马尔福？”赫敏表示怀疑地说，“嗯？？是啊？？有可能？？”然后，在快到霍格莫德村的一路上，她一直在沉思默想。“我们到底上哪儿去呀？”哈利问，“三把扫帚酒吧吗？”

    “哦——　不是，”赫敏从沉思中惊醒过来，说道，“不是，那里总是挤满了人，嘈杂得厉害。我叫其他人在猪头酒吧跟我们碰头，就是另外一家酒吧，你们知道的，不在大路上。我也觉得这有点儿？？你们知道？？不太保险？？但同学们一般不上那儿去，所以我想我们不会被人偷听到。”

    他们顺着大路往前走，经过佐科笑话店——　不出所料，他们在这里看见了弗雷德、乔治和李乔丹，经过邮局——　每过一会儿就有一些猫头鹰从里面飞出来，然后他们拐进旁边的一条小路，路口有一家小酒吧。破破烂烂的木头招牌悬挂在门上锈迹斑斑的支架上，上面画着一个被砍下来的野猪头，血迹渗透了包着它-233　？的白布。他们走近时，招牌被风吹得吱吱嘎嘎作响。他们三人在门外迟疑着。

    “走，进去吧。”赫敏说，显得有点儿紧张。哈利领头走了进去。

    里面与三把扫帚酒吧完全不一样，那儿的大吧台总使人感到明亮、于净而温暖。猪头酒吧只有一问又小又暗、非常肮脏的屋子，散发着一股浓浓的羊膻味。几扇凸窗上积着厚厚的污垢，光线几乎透不进来，粗糙的木头桌子上点着一些蜡烛头。哈利第一眼望去，以为地面是压实的泥地，可是当踩在上面时才发现，原本是石头铺的地面上积了几个世纪的污垢。

    哈利想起一年级时海格提到过这家酒吧：“猪头酒吧里有许多好玩的家伙。”他这么说，解释他是怎么从酒吧里一个戴兜帽的陌生人手里赢得了一只龙蛋的。当时哈利还纳闷，在他们交往时那人始终把脸挡得严严实实，为什么海格不觉得奇怪呢。现在他才发现，在猪头酒吧里似乎很流行把脸隐藏起来。吧台那儿有一个人，整个脑袋都裹在脏兮兮的灰色绷带里，不过仍然能一杯接一杯地把一种冒烟的、燃着火苗的东西从嘴上的一道绷带缝隙中灌进去。窗边的一张桌子旁坐着两个戴兜帽的人影，如果他们不是用很浓重的约克郡口音在说话，哈利简直以为他们是摄魂怪。在壁炉旁一个阴暗的角落里坐着一个女巫，厚厚的黑色纱巾一直垂到她的双脚。他们只能看见她的鼻尖，因为它把面罩顶得微微突起。

    “我觉得不大对劲儿，赫敏。”他们朝吧台走去时，哈利低声说。他格外注意地望着那个全身裹着纱巾的女巫。“你有没有想到那里面会是乌姆里奇呢？”

    赫敏掂量着朝那裹着纱巾的身影扫了一眼。

    “乌姆里奇比那个女人矮，”她悄声说，“而且，就算乌姆里奇上这儿来了，她也不能阻止我们，哈利，因为我把学校的规章制度反复看了两三遍。我们没有越轨。我还专门问过弗立维教授，学生可不可以进猪头酒吧，他说可以，但他一再建议我要自己带上杯子。我查遍了我能想到的关于组织学习小组和课外小组的规定，它们是在绝对被允许的范围内的。我只是觉得我们做这件事不应该过分张扬。”

    “对，”哈利干巴巴地说，“特别是你所筹划的实际上并不是一个课外小组，对吗？”

    酒吧老板侧身从一个后门闪出，朝他们迎上来。他是个看上去脾气暴躁的老头儿，长着一大堆长长的灰色头发和胡子。他的个子又高又瘦，哈利隐约感觉似乎在哪儿见过他。

    “要什么？”他嘟哝着问。

    “请来三瓶黄油啤酒。”赫敏说。

    那人弯腰从柜台底下掏出三只布满灰尘、肮脏透顶的瓶子，重重放在吧台上。

    “六个西可。”他说。

    -234　？“我来付。”哈利赶紧说道，把银币递了过去。酒吧老板的目光移向哈利，在他的伤疤上停留了一刹那。然后他移开目光，把哈利给他的钱放进一只古老的木头钱柜，抽屉自动滑开，把钱吞了进去。哈利、罗恩和赫敏退到离吧台最远的一张桌旁坐了下来，东张西望。那个裹着脏兮兮的灰色绷带的男人用指关节敲打着柜台，又从酒吧老板那儿得到了一杯冒烟的饮料。

    “你猜怎么着？”罗恩怀着极大的热情望着吧台，喃喃地说，“在这里我们可以想点什么就点什么。我敢说那家伙肯定会什么都卖给我们的，他才不管那么多呢。我一直想尝尝热火威士忌——　”

    “你——　是——　个——　级长。”赫敏恶狠狠地说。

    “噢，”罗恩说，脸上的笑容隐去了，“是啊？？”

    “那么，你说谁会来跟我们碰头呢？”哈利问，一边拧开他那瓶黄油啤酒的锈迹斑斑的瓶盖，喝了一大口。

    “就那么三两个人，”赫敏说着看了看表，焦急地朝门口张望，“我叫他们差不多这个时候到，我想他们肯定都知道在什么地方——　哦，看，这大概就是他们了。”

    酒吧的门开了，一道粗粗的、弥漫着灰尘的阳光把屋子一分为二，转眼又消失了，是被拥进来的一大帮人挡住了。

    首先进来的是纳威、迪安和拉文德，后面紧跟着帕瓦蒂和帕德玛佩蒂尔，还有（哈利内心抽搐了一下）秋和她那帮叽叽喳喳的女友中的一个，然后是（独自一人，神情恍惚，仿佛是不经意问走进来的）卢娜洛夫古德，再后面是凯蒂贝尔、艾丽娅斯平内特和安吉利娜约翰逊、科林和丹尼斯克里维兄弟俩、厄尼麦克米兰、贾斯廷-芬列里、汉娜艾博，还有一个哈利叫不出名字的赫奇帕奇女生，一根长长的辫子拖在背上，三个拉文克劳男生，哈利可以肯定他们分别名叫安东尼。戈德斯坦、迈克尔科纳和泰瑞布特，还有金妮，后面跟着一个瘦瘦高高、长着一个翘鼻子的黄头发男生，哈利模模糊糊记得他是赫奇帕奇魁地奇球队的队员，走在最后的是弗雷德、乔治和他们的朋友李乔丹，三个人怀里都抱着大纸袋，里面装满了在佐科笑话店买的东西。

    “　三两个人？”哈利声音嘶哑地对赫敏说，“　三两个人？”“是啊，不错，看来这个主意很得人心。”赫敏高兴地说，“罗恩，你是不是再搬几把椅子过来？”酒吧老板正在用一块脏得像是从来没洗过的破布擦一只玻璃杯，看到这情景不禁呆住了。他的酒吧大概从没来过这么多人。“嘿，”弗雷德说，抢先走到吧台旁，迅速数了数他的同伴，“劳驾，能不能给我们来？？二十五瓶黄油啤酒？”酒吧老板瞪了他片刻，然后恼怒地把破布扔下，似乎他在做一件非常重要的-235　？事情时被打断了，他开始从吧台下面拿出一瓶瓶灰扑扑的黄油啤酒。

    “谢谢，”弗雷德说着把啤酒传给大家，“每个人都出点钱吧，我可没有钱买这么多啤酒？？”

    哈利麻木地望着这一大帮叽叽喳喳的人从弗雷德手中接过啤酒，然后在袍子里摸索着寻找硬币。他想象不出这么多人是来做什么的，接着他突然产生了一个可怕的想法：他们大概是来听人讲话的，于是他恼怒地转向赫敏。

    “你对别人是怎么说的？”他压低声音问，“他们想得到什么？”

    “我已经告诉过你了，他们只是想听你说话，随便说什么都行。”赫敏安慰他道，但哈利还是怒气冲冲地看着她，她便赶紧补充道，“现在还不需要你做什么，我先对他们说几句。”

    “嘿，哈利。”纳成说，绽开满脸笑容，在他对面坐了下来。

    哈利勉强对他抱以微笑，但什么也没说。他嘴里突然变得特别于。秋刚才对他嫣然一笑，坐在了罗恩右边。她的朋友，就是那个长着一头泛红金色鬈发的女生，却没有笑，而是用完全不信任的眼光看了看哈利，似乎准确无误地告诉他，若依着她自己的意思，她是根本不会上这儿来的。。这些新来的人三三两两地围者哈利、罗恩和赫敏坐了下来，有的显得很兴奋，有的则充满好奇，卢娜洛夫古德恍恍惚惚地独自发呆。每个人都在椅子上坐定后，说话声渐渐平静下来。大家的目光都盯在哈利身上。

    “嗯，”赫敏说，因为紧张，她的声音比平常略高一些，“嗯——　嗯一大家好。”这伙人把注意力转向了她，但目光仍然不时地扫到哈利身上。

    “是这样？？晤？？咳，你们都知道为什么要上这儿来。嗯？？是这样，哈利想出一个主意一我是说——　”（哈利狠狠地瞪了她一眼）“——　我想出一个主意——　如果有谁愿意学习黑魔法防御术我是说。学到真本事，丽不是那个乌姆里奇教给我们的那堆垃圾——　”（赫敏的声音突然变得坚定和理直气壮了许多）“——　谁也不会管那玩意儿叫黑魔法防御术——　”（“说得好，说得好！”安东尼戈德斯坦说，赫敏似乎很受鼓舞）“——　我想，我们不妨，嗯，自己解决问题。”

    她顿了顿，侧脸看看哈利，继续说道：“我的意思是学会如何有效地保护自己，不仅是学理论，还要练习真正的魔咒——　”。“但是我想，你肯定也需要通过黑魔法防御术课的O.W.Ls考试吧？”迈克尔科纳说。

    “当然是的，”赫敏立刻说道，“但是比那更重要的是，我想在防御术方面得到正规的训练，因为？？因为？？”她深深吸了口气才把话说完，“因为伏地魔回来了。”

    大家的反应立竿见影，不出所料。秋的女友尖叫一声，把黄油啤酒泼洒在自-236　？己身上；泰瑞布特不由自主地抽搐了一下；帕德玛佩蒂尔打了个寒战，纳威发出一声怪叫，又及时把它转化为咳嗽。但他们都眼巴巴地、甚至是迫切地望着哈利。

    “嗯？？计划就是这样，”赫敏说，“如果你们想加入，我们需要决定一下我们今后怎么——　”

    “有什么证据证明神秘人回来了？”那个黄头发的赫奇帕奇球员用咄咄逼人的口气问。

    “噢，邓布利多相信——　”赫敏话没说完。

    “你是想说，邓布利多相信他。”黄头发的男孩说着冲哈利点了点头。

    “你是谁？”罗恩很不礼貌地问。

    “扎卡赖斯史密斯，”那男孩说，“我认为我们有权知道他究竟为什么要说神秘人回来了。”

    “注意，”赫敏敏捷地插进来说，“这其实并不是这次聚会所要讨论的——　”

    “没关系，赫敏。”哈利说。

    他这才明白为什么会来这么多人。他认为赫敏应该能看到这一点。这帮人中有一些——　甚至是大多数——　之所以来，是想亲耳听听哈利编的那些谎话。

    “我为什么要说神秘人回来了？”他直视着扎卡赖斯的脸问道，“因为我看见他了。邓布利多上学年结束时已经对全校同学讲了事情的经过，如果你不相信他，那么你也不会相信我，我不想浪费一下午时间说服别人相信我。”

    哈利说话时，大家似乎都屏住了呼吸。哈利似乎感觉到就连酒吧老板也在听。他不停地用那块肮脏的破布擦同一只玻璃杯，把它擦得更脏了。

    扎卡赖斯轻蔑地说：“上学期邓布利多只告诉我们塞德里克迪戈里被神秘人杀死了，你把迪戈里的尸体带回到霍格沃茨。他没有告诉我们具体的细节，他没有告诉我们迪戈里究竟是怎么被杀害的，我想我们都很想知道——　”

    “如果你来是想听听伏地魔杀人是什么情形，我可没法帮助你。”哈利说。他的火气这些日子总是接近临界点，现在又噌噌地往上蹿了。他的眼睛仍然盯着扎卡赖斯史密斯那张咄咄逼人的脸，并打定主意不去看秋。“我不想谈论塞德里克迪戈里，明白吗？如果你上这儿来就是为了这个，你现在就可以走了。”

    他气呼呼地朝赫敏那边瞪了一眼。他觉得这一切都怪她，是她决定把他当个怪物一样拿出来展览的，不用问，他们都是想来看看他编的那些谎话到底有多离奇。然而，他们没有一个人离开座位，就连扎卡赖斯也不例外，尽管他仍然毫不示弱地盯着哈利。

    “所以，”赫敏说，她的声音又变得又尖又细，“所以？？就像我刚才说的？？如果你们想学习一些防御术，我们就需要筹划一下该怎么做，多长时间碰一次面，在什么地方碰面——　”

    -237　？“那是真的吗，”那个背后拖着一根长辫子的女生望着哈利，打断了赫敏的话，“你真的能变出一个守护神吗？”

    听了这话，大伙儿很感兴趣地低声议论着。

    “是啊。”哈利有点提防地说。

    “一个肉身的守护神？”

    这句话使哈利想起了什么。

    “嗯——　你不认识博恩斯夫人吧？”他问。

    那女生笑了。

    “她是我姑姑，”她说，“我叫苏珊博恩斯。她对我说了你受审的事。那么——　这是真的喽？你能变出一只牡鹿守护神？”“是的。”哈利说。“太棒了，哈利！”李说，显出十分钦佩的样子，“我以前从不知道！”“妈妈叫罗恩不要四处张扬，”弗雷德朝哈利咧嘴笑着说，“她说你受到的注意已经够多的了。”

    “她说得没错。”哈利低声说，有一两个人大声笑了起来。

    裹着纱巾的女巫在座位上不易察觉地动了动。

    “你用邓布利多办公室的那把剑杀死了蛇怪？”泰瑞布特问道，“那是去年墙上一幅肖像告诉我的？？”

    “嗯——　是的，确实是这样。”哈利说。

    贾斯廷芬列里吹了声口哨，克里维兄弟俩交换了一个震惊的目光，拉文德。布朗轻轻叫了一声：“哇！”哈利觉得领子周围开始有点发热了。他下定决心就是不去看秋。

    “我们上一年级的时候，”纳威对大伙儿说，“他救出了那颗魔术石——　”

    “是魔法石。”赫敏小声地纠正他。

    “噢，对——　从神秘人手中。”纳威把话说完。

    汉娜艾博的眼睛瞪得像金加隆那么圆。

    “更不用说，”秋说（哈利猛地将目光转向她，她面带微笑看着他，他的内心又是一阵翻腾），“上学期他在三强争霸赛里所完成的那些项目——　穿越火龙、人鱼等等？？”

    桌旁响起一片表示钦佩和赞同的喃喃声音。哈利内心一阵悸动。他拼命调整自己的面部表情，不要显出太得意的样子。秋这样赞扬他，使得他刚才发誓要告诉他们的话现在很难说得出口了。

    “其实，”他说，大家立刻安静了下来，“我？？我不想表现得故作谦虚什么的，可是？？所有那些事情我都得到过许多帮助？？”

    “穿越火龙那次你没有得到帮助，”迈克尔科纳立刻说，“你当时飞起来的样-238　？子真够酷的？？”“是啊，嗯——　”哈利说，觉得再表示反对就会显得无礼了。“今年夏天你摆脱那些摄魂怪时也没有人帮助你。”苏珊博恩斯说。“是的，”哈利说，“是的，对，我知道我做的有些事情没有得到帮助，但我想要说明的是——　”　“你是不是在耍滑头，不想把这些魔法展示给我们看？”扎卡赖斯。史密斯说。“我有一个主意，”罗恩不等哈利说话就大声说，“你干吗不能闭上你的嘴呢？”也许“耍滑头”这个词特别令罗恩反感①。反正，他此刻狠狠地瞪着扎卡赖斯，似乎恨不得上去揍他一顿。扎卡赖斯脸红了。

    “我们都是来跟他学东西的，可是他却说他实际上什么都不会。”他说。“他不是这么说的。”弗雷德气呼呼地说。“你是不是要我们帮你洗洗耳朵呀？”乔治问道，一边从一只佐科笑话店的购物袋里掏出一只长长的、看着怪可怕的金属玩意儿。“或者你身体上随便什么部位，我们才不管把它插在哪儿呢。”弗雷德说。“好了，好了，”赫敏赶紧说道，“言归正传？？关键是，我们一致同意让哈利给我们上课吗？”大家喃喃地表示赞同。扎卡赖斯抱着双臂什么也没说，不过这也许是因为他在紧张地用一只眼睛盯着弗雷德手里的那个东西。“好的，”赫敏说，显得松了口气，总算有一件事情定下来了，“那么，第二个问题是，我们多长时间上一次课。我想，少于一星期一次恐怕没有什么用——　”　“慢着，”安吉利娜说，“一定要保证这跟我们的魁地奇球训练不相冲突。”“对，”秋说，“也不能跟我们的相冲突。”“还有我们的。”扎卡赖斯史密斯说。“我相信我们能找到一个晚上适合所有的人，”赫敏说，略微有些不耐烦，“但是你们知道，这是很重要的，我们谈论的是学点本事保护自己，抵抗伏一伏地魔的食死徒——　”

    “说得好！”厄尼‘麦克米兰大声喊道，哈利本来以为他早就会开口说话的，“我个人认为，这确实非常重要，大概比我们今年要做的其他任何事情都重要，甚至包括即将到来的O.W.Ls考试！”

    他威严地扫视了一眼，似乎等着有人大声说“那可不行！”看到没有人开口。他继续说：“我个人十分纳闷，为什么在这样一个至关重要的时期，魔法部给我们塞进来那样一个毫无用处的老师。显然，他们拒绝相信神秘人已经回来了，可是①在英语中。”耍滑头“这个词的发音和罗恩的姓”韦斯莱“比较接近。

    -239　？居然给我们派来这么个千方百计阻止我们使用防御魔咒的老师——　“

    “我们认为，乌姆里奇之所以不让我们练习黑魔法防御术，”赫敏说，“是因为她脑子里有一些？？一些荒唐的想法，以为邓布利多会利用学校的学生作为一支秘密军队。她以为邓布利多会鼓动我们去对抗魔法部。”

    听到这个消息，几乎每个人都惊得目瞪口呆，只有卢娜洛夫古德例外，她插言道：“是的，这话很有道理。其实康奈利福吉就有自己的秘密军队。”“　什么？”　哈利说，　完全被这个意想不到的情况惊呆了。

    “是的，他有一支黑利奥帕组成的军队。”卢娜一本正经地说。“不可能。”赫敏不客气地说。“千真万确。”卢娜说。“黑利奥帕是什么？”纳威问，显得很茫然。“它们是火精灵，”卢娜说，凸出的眼睛睁得大大的，使她显得比平常更加疯狂，“是浑身冒火的庞然大物，在大地上飞奔而过，能把面前的一切烧得精光——　”　“它们根本不存在，纳威。”赫敏尖刻地说。“哦，存在的！”卢娜生气地说。“对不起，请问有什么证据呢？”赫敏厉声地问。“有大量目击者的报道。就因为你这么孤陋寡闻，你需要所有的东西都塞到你的鼻子底下才会——　”　“咳。咳，”金妮惟妙惟肖地模仿着乌姆里奇教授。几个人吃惊地东张西望，然后哈哈大笑起来，“刚才我们不是要决定多长时间聚会一次上防御课的吗？”

    “对啊，”赫敏立刻说道，“对啊，你说得对，金妮。”“我说，一星期一次再好不过了。”李乔丹说。“只要——　”安吉利娜刚想说话。“是的，是的，我们知道还有魁地奇球。”赫敏用紧张的口气说，“还有一件事情需要决定，就是我们在什么地方聚会？？”这个问题比较复杂，大家都陷入了沉默。“图书馆？”片刻之后凯蒂贝尔建议道。

    “我们在图书馆里练习恶咒，平斯夫人恐怕不会太高兴的。”哈利说。“要么找一间不用的教室？”迪安说。“是啊，”罗恩说，“麦格大概会让我们用她的教室呢，上回哈利为三强争霸赛训练时，她就是这么做的。”然而哈利可以肯定，麦格这次不会这么通融了。尽管赫敏说学习小组和课外小组是允许的，但他心里很清楚，别人会认为他们这个小组是大逆不道的。“这样吧，我们想办法找一个地方，”赫敏说，“等我们确定了第一次聚会的时间和地点，就发消息通知大冢o”她在包里翻找了一阵，拿出羊皮纸和一支羽毛笔，然后迟疑着，似乎在下决心强迫自己把话说出来。

    “我——　我想让每个人把自己的名字写下来，这样我们就知道今天来的都有谁了。我同时还认为，”她深深吸了口气，“我们应该一致同意不把我们要傲的事情张扬出去。所以你们一旦签了名，就表示同意不把我们的事情告诉乌姆里奇或其他任何人。”

    弗雷德伸手接过羊皮纸，欣然地在上面签了自已的名字，可是哈利立刻注意到，有几个人听说要把他们的名字写在名单上，显得不太高兴。“嗯？？”扎卡赖斯慢吞吞地说，没有孥乔治递过去的羊皮纸，“嗯……我想厄尼肯定会告诉我什么时候聚会的。”可是厄尼对于签名也显得很犹豫。赫敏对他扬起了眉毛。“我？？嗯，我们是级长，”厄尼脱口而出，“如果名单被别人发现了？？嗯。我的意思是说？？你自己也说了，如果被乌姆里奇发现了——　”　“你刚才还说参加这个小组是你今年要做的最重要的事情。”哈利提醒他。“我——　是的，”厄尼说，“是的，这点我相信，只是——　”　“厄尼，你真的以为我会把这张名单到处乱扔吗？”赫敏恼火地说。“不，不，当然不是，”厄尼说，显得不那么担心了，“我——　好吧，我当然要签名。”

    在厄尼之后，没有人再提出反对，不过哈利看见秋的女友朝她责备地白了一眼，才签上了自己的名字。当最后一个人——　扎卡赖斯——　也把名字签上后，赫敏把羊皮纸收回去仔细放进她的书包。现在小组里有了一种奇怪的感觉。似乎大家刚刚签了一份契约。

    “好了，时间过得真快。”弗雷德大大咧咧地说，一边站了起来，。乔治、李和我还要去买一些高度机密的东西，我们待会儿见！“

    其他人也三三两两地起身告辞。秋在离开前磨磨蹭蹭地系着书包上的搭扣，长长的、瀑布般的黑发飘到前面挡住了她的脸，但她的女友站在她旁边，抱着双臂，不耐烦地咂着舌头，秋别无选择，只好和她一起走了。就在她的女友陪她走出门时，秋回过脸，冲哈利挥了挥手。

    “我觉得进行得还算顺利。”片刻之后，赫敏和哈利、罗恩一起走出猪头酒吧，来到阳光灿烂的户外，她高兴地说。哈利和罗恩手里还攘着各自的那瓶黄油啤酒。

    “那个叫扎卡赖斯的家伙是个讨厌鬼。”罗恩说，他怒气冲冲地瞪着远处隐约可见的扎卡赖斯的背影。“我也不太喜欢他，”赫敏承认道，“但那天我在赫奇帕奇桌上跟厄尼和汉娜-241　？说话时，被他听见了，他似乎特别感兴趣地要来，我能说什么呢？不过确实是人来得越多越好——　我是说，迈克尔科纳如果不是在跟金妮谈恋爱，他和他那些朋友是不会来的——　”

    罗恩正在把瓶里最后几滴黄油啤酒倒进嘴里，听了这话，一下子呛住了，啤酒洒在了胸前。

    “他在什么？”罗恩气急败坏地问，两只耳朵活像两个生牛肉卷，“她在谈恋爱——　我的妹妹在谈恋爱——　你说什么，跟迈克尔科纳谈恋爱？”

    “是啊，我想正因为这个，科纳和他那些朋友才会来的——　是啊，他们显然对学习防御术很感兴趣，但如果金妮没有告诉迈克尔事情的经过——　”

    “什么时候开始——　她什么时候——　”

    “去年年底，他们在圣诞节舞会上遇见的，后来就开始约会。”赫敏镇静地说。他们拐上大路，她在文人居羽毛笔店外停住脚步，橱窗里陈列着许多讨人喜欢的羽毛笔，摆放得非常漂亮。“晤？？我想买一支新笔。”

    她转身进了商店。哈利和罗恩也跟了进去。

    “哪个家伙是迈克尔科纳？”罗恩气呼呼地问。

    “黑皮肤的那个。”赫敏说。

    “我不喜欢他。”罗恩不假思索地说。

    “真让我吃惊。”赫敏压低声音说。

    “可是，”罗恩说，跟着赫敏走过一排排插在铜钵里的羽毛笔，“我还以为金妮喜欢哈利呢！”

    赫敏十分同情地看着他，摇了摇头。

    “金妮以前是喜欢哈利，但几个月前她对他绝望了。当然啦，她并不是不喜欢你。”她亲切地对哈利补充一句，一边仔细检查一支长长的、黑色和金色相问的羽毛笔。

    哈利脑子里还满是秋离开时朝他挥手的情景，对这个话题不像罗恩那么感兴趣，罗恩简直是气得发抖了。但哈利确实想起了一些他在此之前没怎么注意的情况。

    “怪不得她现在开始说话了，是吗？”他问赫敏，“她以前在我面前从不说话的。”‘　“对极了。”赫敏说，“好吧，我想我就要这一支了？？”她走向柜台，递过去十五个西可和两个纳特，罗恩仍然对着她的脖子呼哧呼哧地喘粗气。

    “罗恩，”她转身跺了跺脚，严厉地说，“金妮正是因为这个才没有告诉你她在跟迈克尔谈恋爱的，她就知道你一听就炸。所以，看在老天的分儿上，别再对这件事唠叨个没完了。”

-242　？“你这话是什么意思？谁一听就炸？我才不会为什么事唠叨个没完呢？？”罗恩走在街上，还一直在不出声地嘀咕着。赫敏冲哈利翻了翻眼睛，然后趁罗恩仍在低声咒骂迈克尔科纳的工夫低声说：“说起迈克尔和金妮？？你和秋怎么样啦？”“你这是什么意思？”哈利赶紧问道。似乎有一股沸腾的热水在身体里迅速奔涌，带给他一种火辣辣的感觉，使他的脸在寒风中感到刺痛——　他表现得那么明显吗？“嘿，”赫敏微微带笑说，“她简直就不能把目光从你身上挪开，是不是？”哈利以前从没有发现霍格莫德村竟是这样美丽。

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.

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。

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.