海格的故事

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

    “外面很冷！”看到罗恩不耐烦地咂嘴，她辩解说。

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

    -286　？“海格，是我们！”哈利对着钥匙孔叫道。

    “应该想到的！”一个粗哑的声音说。

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

    拔门闩的声音，门吱吱嘎嘎地开了，门缝中露出海格的脑袋。

    赫敏尖叫起来。

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

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

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

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

    “你遇到什么了？”哈利问，牙牙围着他们又蹦又跳，舔他们的脸蛋。

    “我说了，没事儿。”海格固执地说，“喝杯茶吗？”

    “算了吧，”罗恩说，“看你那副样子！”

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

    “海格，你遭到袭击了吗？”罗恩问。

    “我说最后一遍：没事儿！”海格一口咬定。

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

    “你不会吃那个吧，海格？”罗恩凑过去看了看，“　好像有毒啊。”

    “它就是这个样子，是龙肉，”海格说，“我没准备吃它。”

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

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

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

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

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

    -288　？“什么？”

    “——　我只好去受审，好多的事情，可是先跟我们说说巨人的事吧。”

    “你要被开除？”

    “先说说你的暑假，然后我再说我的。”

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

    “唉，好吧。”海格无可奈何地说。

    他弯下腰把龙肉从牙牙的嘴里拽了出来。

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

    “马克西姆夫人跟你一起吗？”赫敏插嘴问。

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

    “你知道你们要去哪里？”哈利问，“你知道巨人在哪儿？”

    “邓布利多知道，他告诉了我们。”

    “巨人是不是藏起来了？”罗恩问，“他们在哪儿是个秘密吗？”

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

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

    海格看着罗恩，那只露在外面的眼睛里有一种近乎怜悯的奇怪表情。

    “我们被监视着，罗恩。”他粗哑地说。

    “什么意思？”

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

    ①马克西姆夫人的名字。

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

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

    看到罗恩的脸色，她不做声了。

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

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

    海格停下来喝了一大口茶。

    “说呀！”哈利性急地催促道。

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

    “有多大？”罗恩屏着气问。

    “大概二十英尺吧，”海格漫不经心地说，“大的可能有二十五英尺。”

    “有多少人？”哈利问。

    “我想有七八十个吧。”

    “全在那儿了吗？”赫敏问。

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

    “那么，”哈利说，“你们看到了巨人，后来呢？”

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

    “天亮之后我们就下去了。”

    “就那样？”罗恩敬畏地问，“你们直接走进了巨人的营地？”

    ①法国中东部城市。勃艮第大区首府和科多尔省省会。

    “邓布利多告诉了我们该怎么做，”海格说，“给古戈礼物，表示敬意。”

    “给谁礼物？”哈利问。

    “哦，古戈——　就是首领。”

    “你怎么知道哪个是古戈？”罗恩问。

    海格乐了。

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

    “你们就直接走了上去？”赫敏提心吊胆地问。

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

    “可是他们没有想杀你们吗？”罗恩难以置信地问。

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

    “送给巨人什么礼物？”罗恩感兴趣地问，“吃的吗？”

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

    赫敏轻轻地哇了一声，但哈利和罗恩都皱起了眉头。

    “一支——　？”

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

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

    “什么也没说，”海格说，“他不会说我们的话。”

    “你开玩笑吧！”

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

    “他喜欢这礼物吗？”罗恩问。

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

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

    “你们跟他谈了？”

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

    “他说什么？”

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

    “可是那天晚上坏事了。”

    “什么意思？”罗恩忙问。

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

    海格深深地叹了口气。

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

    “谁的头？”赫敏惊问。

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

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

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

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

    赫敏用手捂住嘴巴。

    “你怎么脱身的？”哈利问。

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

    “哎呀，海格。”罗恩轻声说。

    “你在那儿只待了三天，怎么这么晚才回来？”　赫敏问。

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

    “可是你说你们不能再回去了！”

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

    “他又砍人脑袋了？”赫敏有点作呕。

    “不是，”海格说，“那还好些。”

    “什么意思？”

    “我是说，我们很快发现他并不排斥所有的巫师——　只排斥我们。”

    “食死徒？”哈利马上问。

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

    “你怎么知道是食死徒？”罗恩问。

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

    “麦克尼尔说服巨人跟神秘人联合了？”　赫敏绝望地说。

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

    “你怎么看得出哪些是呢？”罗恩问。

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

    “你们到漆黑的岩洞里去找巨人？”罗恩惊叫道。

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “死了，”海格嘟哝道，“好些年前就死了。他们告诉我的。”

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

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

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

    “谁袭击了你？”罗恩问。

    “我没受到袭击！”海格强调道，“我——　”

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

    “是她！”罗恩低声说。

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

    “海格，把我们的杯子藏起来！”

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

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

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

    没等海格回答，她就走进屋去，癜蛤蟆眼骨碌碌乱转。

    “走开。”她挥着皮包对牙牙喝道，因为它跳到她跟前，想舔她的脸。

    “呃——　我不想没礼貌，”海格瞪着她说，“可你到底是谁？”

    “我的名字叫多洛雷斯乌姆里奇。”

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

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

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

    “你很勇敢，”海格说，“现在没多少人肯教这个了——　”

    “——　兼霍格沃茨高级调查官。”乌姆里奇好像没听见他的话一样。

    “那是什么？”海格皱眉问。

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

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

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

    “我刚才听到了说话声。”她低声说。

    “我在跟牙牙说话。”海格勇敢地回答。

    “它也跟你说话吗？”

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

    “雪地上有三对脚印，从城堡门口通到你的小屋。”乌姆里奇圆滑地说。

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

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

    “你的小屋门口没有离开的脚印。”

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

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

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

    “什么样的事故？”

    “我一我摔了一跤。”

    “摔了一跤。”她冷冷地重复道。

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

    “你去哪儿了？”乌姆里奇冷冷地打断海格的胡扯。

    “我去哪儿？？？”

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

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

    “我一我去疗养了。”他说。

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    但海格只是打了个大大的哈欠，独眼朝屋角的大床投去向往的一瞥。

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

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

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

The Eye Of The Snake

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

蛇眼

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

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

    他猛地缩回头，脸上全是雪。

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “当然驯服了。”海格皱起眉头，把肩上的死牛朝上提了提。

    “那你的脸是怎么回事？”马尔福问。

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “对不起，”马尔福用讥讽的口气说，“我们到底应该看到什么？”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    赫敏举起手。

    “你说。”海格对她一笑说。

    “只有见过死亡的人才能看见夜骐。”她说。

    “对了，”海格严肃地说，“格兰芬多加十分。夜骐——　”

    “咳，咳。”

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

    “咳，咳。”

    “哦，你好！”海格微笑道，发现了怪声的来源。

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

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

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

    海格显得有点疑惑。

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

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

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

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

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

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

    哈利的心陡地一沉，但海格只是笑笑。

    “夜骐不危险！当然，要真给惹急了，它们可能会咬你——　”

    “对？？残暴？？表现出？？快意？？”乌姆里奇又在笔记本上写道。

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

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

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

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

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

    “你能看到夜骐，是吗，隆巴顿？”她问。

    纳威点点头。

    “你看到谁死了？”她语气冷漠地问。

    “我？？我爷爷。”纳威说。

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

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

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

    “不！”纳威不安地说，“我不害怕它们——　！”

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

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

    “乌姆里奇说它们有危险。”罗恩说。

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

    “是吗？”哈利平静地问。

    她一下子显得很惊恐。

    “哦，哈利——　对不起——　我当然不希望——　那真是句蠢话——　”

    “没关系，”他赶忙说，“别担心。”

    “我奇怪竟有这么多人看得见，”罗恩说，“班上有三个——　”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “替补我？”哈利傻乎乎地问。

    “你、弗雷德和乔治，”她不耐烦地说，“我们有新的找球手了！”

    “谁？”哈利忙问。

    “金妮韦斯莱。”凯蒂说。

    哈利愣愣地望着她。

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

    来，再练昏迷咒。“

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

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

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

    一小时后，哈利叫大家停了下来。

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

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

    “你先走吧。”他听到她对玛丽埃塔说，他的心一下蹦到了嗓子眼儿。

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

    他转过身，看到秋站在屋子中间，脸上流着泪。

    “怎么——　？”

    他不知道怎么办，她只是站在那儿，默默哭泣。

    “怎么啦？”他无力地问。

    她摇摇头，用衣袖拭了拭眼泪。

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

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

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

    听到伏地魔的名字，她哽噎了一下，但无畏地望着哈利。

    “你当时还是婴儿却活了下来。”她轻声说。

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

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

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

    赫敏似乎用了很大努力才忍住没有翻眼睛。

    “我想这还不算最糟糕。”她说，“你打算还见她吗？”

    “　我非见不可，是不是？”哈利说，　“有D.A.集会呀。”

    “你知道我指的是什么。”赫敏不耐烦地说。

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

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

    “要是他不想约她呢？”罗恩一直盯着哈利，脸上现出一种不常见的精明。

    “别犯傻，”赫敏含糊地说，“哈利早就喜欢她了，是不是，哈利？”

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

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

    “威克多尔。”

    “克鲁姆？”

    “我们还知道几个威克多尔呀？”

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

    “好了，晚安。”赫敏说，打着大哈欠朝女生宿舍的楼梯走去。

    -308　？住了。“那——她想干吗？”他装出随便的口气问。

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

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

    “哦，”罗恩说，脸上的笑容减退了一些，“你接吻水平那么差吗？”

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

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

    赫敏似乎用了很大努力才忍住没有翻眼睛。

    “我想这还不算最糟糕。”她说，“你打算还见她吗？”

    “我非见不可，是不是？”哈利说，“有D.A.　集会呀。”

    “你知道我指的是什么。”赫敏不耐烦地说。

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

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

    “要是他不想约她呢？”罗恩一直盯着哈利，脸上现出一种不常见的精明。

    “别犯傻，”赫敏含糊地说，“哈利早就喜欢她了，是不是，哈利？”

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

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

    “威克多尔。”

    “克鲁姆？”

    “我们还知道几个威克多尔呀？”

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

    “好了，晚安。”赫敏说，打着大哈欠朝女生宿舍的楼梯走去。

    -310　？“她看上克鲁姆什么啦？”罗恩和哈利一起上楼时问道。

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

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

    “是有点暴躁。”哈利说，他还在想着秋。

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

    “晚安。”哈利说。

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

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

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

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

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

    “哈利！”

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

    “他真的病了，”一个惊恐的声音说，“要喊人吗？”

    “哈利！哈利！”

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

    “你爸爸，”他气喘吁吁地说，胸口起伏着，“你爸爸？？出事了？？”

    “什么？”罗恩没听懂。

    “你爸爸！他被咬了，很严重，到处都是血？？”

    “我去叫人。”那个惊恐的声音说，哈利听到脚步声跑出了宿舍。

    “哈利，哥们儿，”罗恩将信将疑，“你？？你只是在做梦？？”

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

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

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

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

    -312　？“什么，你看到的？”麦格教授的黑眉毛拧了起来。

    “我不知道？？我在睡觉，后来就到了那儿？？”

    “你是说你梦见的？”

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

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

St. Mungo's Hosptial for Magical Maladies and Injuries

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

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

圣芒戈魔法伤病医院

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

    “韦斯莱，你也应该一起来。”麦格教授说。

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

    “滋滋蜜蜂糖。”麦格教授说。

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

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

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

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

    “哦，是你，麦格教授？？还有？？啊。”

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

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

    “不是噩梦。”哈利马上说。

    麦格教授回头看看哈利，微微皱起眉头。

    “好吧，波特，你自己跟校长说吧。”

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

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

    “你怎么看到的？”邓布利多轻声问，　依然没有看哈利。

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “你们听见了吗？”邓布利多问。

    男巫点点头，女巫说：“当然。”

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

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

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

    “但韦斯莱先生可能在任何地方！”哈利说。

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

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

    “我们需要一点警报。”邓布利多轻轻对它说。

    一道火光，凤凰不见了。

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

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

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

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

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

    “邓布利多！”

    “什么消息？”邓布利多马上问。

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

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

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

    “谢谢你。”邓布利多说，他转身望着麦格教授。

    “米勒娃，我需要你去叫醒韦斯莱家其他的孩子。”

    “当然？？”

    麦格教授站起来快步走向门口。哈利瞥了瞥罗恩，他现在看上去很害怕。

    “邓布利多——　还有莫丽呢？”麦格教授在门口说。

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

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

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

    “菲尼亚斯，菲尼亚斯！”

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

    “菲尼亚斯！菲尼亚斯！菲尼亚斯！”

    他装不下去了，夸张地动了一下，睁大眼睛。

    “有人叫我吗？”

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

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

    “不服从，先生！”一个红鼻子的大胖男巫挥着拳头吼道，“不守职责！”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “　我们怎么去？”弗雷德忧心忡忡地问，　“　用飞路粉吗？”

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

    屋子中央火光一现，留下一根金羽毛，轻盈地飘向地面。

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

    格子呢的沙沙声中，麦格教授走了。

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

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

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

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

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

    “问哈利吧。”弗雷德说。

    “对，我也想听昕。”乔治说。

    双胞胎和金妮都盯着他，克利切的脚步声在外面楼梯上停住了。

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

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

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

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

    “等等，你们不能冲到圣芒戈去！”小天狼星说。

    “我们当然能去。”弗雷德犟头犟脑地说，“他是我们的爸爸！”

    “你们怎么解释，在医院通知家属之前你们就知道亚瑟受伤了呢？”

    “那有什么关系？”乔治激烈地说。

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

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

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

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

    “我们不关心什么愚蠢的凤凰社！”弗雷德叫了起来。

    “我们的父亲生命垂危！”乔治嚷道。

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

    “你说得轻松，缩在这儿！”弗雷德吼道，“我没看到你有生命危险！”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    乔治看看大家。

    “还活着？？”他慢慢地说，“可这听上去？？”

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

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

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

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

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

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

    但克利切没有回应。

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    他拍拍哈利的肩膀，离开了食品间，剩下哈利一个人站在黑暗中。

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “到了。”过了一会儿穆迪说。

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “他们是医生吗？”他小声问罗恩。

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “为什么不能拆，爸爸？”弗雷德问。

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

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

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

    “他说什么？”乔治问。

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

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

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

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

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

    “亚瑟！”韦斯莱夫人警告道。

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

    “当时你在哪儿，爸爸？”乔治问。

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

    “你说你在‘值班’，”弗雷德低声打断他问，“你究竟做什么呢？”

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

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

    他环顾四周，好像希望看到指示牌。

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

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

    他们退到走廊上。疯眼汉和唐克斯走进去关上了房门。弗雷德扬起了眉毛。

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

    “找这个吗？”乔治说，递过一团肉色细绳状的东西。

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

    他和乔治打开线团，分开五个伸缩耳分给大家，哈利犹豫着拿不拿。

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

    哈利禁不住笑了，拿起线头，像兄弟俩那样把它塞到耳朵里。

    “好，走吧！”弗雷德小声说。

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

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

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

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

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

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

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