Chapter 4 Back To The Burrow

By twelve o'clock the next day, Harry's school trunk was packed with his school things and all his most prized possessions - the Invisibility Cloak he had inherited from his father, the broomstick he had gotten from Sirius, the enchanted map of Hogwarts he had been given by Fred and George Weasley last year. He had emptied his hiding place under the loose floorboard of all food, double-checked every nook and cranny of his bedroom for forgotten spellbooks or quills, and taken down the chart on the wall counting down the days to September the first, on which he liked to cross off the days remaining until his return to Hogwarts.

The atmosphere inside number four, Privet Drive was extremely tense. The imminent arrival at their house of an assortment of wizards was making the Dursleys uptight and irritable. Uncle Vernon had looked downright alarmed when Harry informed him that the Weasleys would be arriving at five o'clock the very next day.

“I hope you told them to dress properly, these people,” he snarled at once. “I've seen the sort of stuff your lot wear. They'd better have the decency to put on normal clothes, that's all.”

Harry felt a slight sense of foreboding. He had rarely seen Mr. or Mrs. Weasley wearing anything that the Dursleys would call “normal.” Their children might don Muggle clothing during the holidays, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley usually wore long robes in varying states of shabbiness. Harry wasn't bothered about what the neighbors would think, but he was anxious about how rude the Dursleys might be to the Weasleys if they turned up looking like their worst idea of wizards.

Uncle Vernon had put on his best suit. To some people, this might have looked like a gesture of welcome, but Harry knew it was because Uncle Vernon wanted to look impressive and intimidating. Dudley, on the other hand, looked somehow diminished. This was not because the diet was at last taking effect, but due to fright. Dudley had emerged from his last encounter with a fully grown wizard with a curly pig's tail poking out of the seat of his trousers, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had had to pay for its removal at a private hospital in London. It wasn't altogether surprising, therefore, that Dudley kept running his hand nervously over his backside, and walking sideways from room to room, so as not to present the same target to the enemy.

Lunch was an almost silent meal. Dudley didn't even protest at the food (cottage cheese and grated celery). Aunt Petunia wasn't, eating anything at all. Her arms were folded, her lips were pursed, and she seemed to be chewing her tongue, as though biting back the furious diatribe she longed to throw at Harry.

“They'll be driving, of course?” Uncle Vernon barked across the table.

“Er,” said Harry.

He hadn't thought of that. How were the Weasleys going to pick him up? They didn't have a car anymore; the old Ford Anglia they had once owned was currently running wild in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts. But Mr. Weasley had borrowed a Ministry of Magic car last year; possibly he would do the same today?

“I think so,” said Harry.

Uncle Vernon snorted into his mustache. Normally, Uncle Vernon would have asked what car Mr. Weasley drove; he tended to judge other men by how big and expensive their cars were. But Harry doubted whether Uncle Vernon would have taken to Mr. Weasley even if he drove a Ferrari.

Harry spent most of the afternoon in his bedroom; he couldn't stand watching Aunt Petunia peer out through the net curtains every few seconds, as though there had been a warning about an escaped rhinoceros. Finally, at a quarter to five, Harry went back downstairs and into the living room.

Aunt Petunia was compulsively straightening cushions. Uncle Vernon was pretending to read the paper, but his tiny eyes were not moving, and Harry was sure he was really listening with all his might for the sound of an approaching car. Dudley was crammed into an armchair, his porky hands beneath him, clamped firmly around his bottom. Harry couldn't take the tension; he left the room and went and sat on the stairs in the hall, his eyes on his watch and his heart pumping fast from excitement and nerves.

But five o'clock came and then went. Uncle Vernon, perspiring slightly in his suit, opened the front door, peered up and down the street, then withdrew his head quickly.

“They're late!” he snarled at Harry.

“I know,” said Harry. “Maybe - er - the traffic's bad, or something.”

Ten past five…then a quarter past five…Harry was starting to feel anxious himself now. At half past, he heard Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia conversing in terse mutters in the living room.

“No consideration at all.”

“We might've had an engagement.”

“Maybe they think they'll get invited to dinner if they're late.”

“Well, they most certainly won't be,” said Uncle Vernon, and Harry heard him stand up and start pacing the living room. “They'll take the boy and go, there'll be no hanging around. That's if they're coming at all. Probably mistaken the day. I daresay their kind don't set much store by punctuality. Either that or they drive some tin-pot car that's broken d -AAAAAAAARRRRRGH!”

Harry jumped up. From the other side of the living room door came the sounds of the three Dursleys scrambling, panic-stricken, across the room. Next moment Dudley came flying into the hall, looking terrified.

“What happened?” said Harry. “What's the matter?”

But Dudley didn't seem able to speak. Hands still clamped over his buttocks, he waddled as fast as he could into the kitchen. Harry hurried into the living room.

Loud bangings and scrapings were coming from behind the Dursleys’ boarded-up fireplace, which had a fake coal fire plugged in front of it.

“What is it?” gasped Aunt Petunia, who had backed into the wall and was staring, terrified, toward the fire. “What is it, Vernon?”

But they were left in doubt barely a second longer. Voices could be heard from inside the blocked fireplace.

“Ouch! Fred, no - go back, go back, there's been some kind of mistake - tell George not to - OUCH! George, no, there's no room, go back quickly and tell Ron -”

“Maybe Harry can hear us, Dad - maybe he'll be able to let us out -”

There was a loud hammering of fists on the boards behind the electric fire.

“Harry? Harry, can you hear us?”

The Dursleys rounded on Harry like a pair of angry wolverines.

“What is this?” growled Uncle Vernon. “What's going on?”

“They - they've tried to get here by Floo powder,” said Harry, fighting a mad desire to laugh. “They can travel by fire - only you've blocked the fireplace - hang on -”

He approached the fireplace and called through the boards.

“Mr. Weasley? Can you hear me?”

The hammering stopped. Somebody inside the chimney piece said, “Shh!”

“Mr. Weasley, it's Harry…the fireplace has been blocked up. You won't be able to get through there.”

“Damn!” said Mr. Weasley's voice. “What on earth did they want to block up the fireplace for?”

“They've got an electric fire,” Harry explained.

“Really?” said Mr. Weasley's voice excitedly. “Eclectic, you say? With a plug? Gracious, I must see that….Let's think…Ouch, Ron!”

Ron's voice now joined the others'.

“What are we doing here? Has something gone wrong?”

“Oh no, Ron,” came Fred's voice, very sarcastically. “No, this is exactly where we wanted to end up.”

“Yeah, we're having the time of our lives here,” said George, whose voice sounded muffled, as though he was squashed against the wall.

“Boys, boys…” said Mr. Weasley vaguely. “I'm trying to think what to do….Yes…only way…Stand back, Harry.”

Harry retreated to the sofa. Uncle Vernon, however, moved forward.

“Wait a moment!” he bellowed at the fire. “What exactly are you going to -”

BANG.

The electric fire shot across the room as the boarded-up fireplace burst outward, expelling Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, and Ron in a cloud of rubble and loose chippings. Aunt Petunia shrieked and fell backward over the coffee table; Uncle Vernon caught her before she hit the floor, and gaped, speechless, at the Weasleys, all of whom had bright red hair, including Fred and George, who were identical to the last freckle.

“That's better,” panted Mr. Weasley, brushing dust from his long green robes and straightening his glasses. “Ah - you must be Harry's aunt and uncle!”

Tall, thin, and balding, he moved toward Uncle Vernon, his hand outstretched, but Uncle Vernon backed away several paces, dragging Aunt Petunia. Words utterly failed Uncle Vernon. His best suit was covered in white dust, which had settled in his hair and mustache and made him look as though he had just aged thirty years.

“Er - yes - sorry about that,” said Mr. Weasley, lowering his hand and looking over his shoulder at the blasted fireplace. “It's all my fault. It just didn't occur to me that we wouldn't be able to get out at the other end. I had your fireplace connected to the Floo Network, you see - just for an afternoon, you know, so we could get Harry. Muggle fireplaces aren't supposed to be connected, strictly speaking - but I've got a useful contact at the Floo Regulation Panel and he fixed it for me. I can put it right in a jiffy, though, don't worry. I'll light a fire to send the boys back, and then I can repair your fireplace before I Disapparate.”

Harry was ready to bet that the Dursleys hadn't understood a single word of this. They were still gaping at Mr. Weasley, thunderstruck. Aunt Petunia staggered upright again and hid behind Uncle Vernon.

“Hello, Harry!” said Mr. Weasley brightly. “Got your trunk ready?”

“It's upstairs,” said Harry, grinning back.

“We'll get it,” said Fred at once. Winking at Harry, he and George left the room. They knew where Harry's bedroom was, having once rescued him from it in the dead of night. Harry suspected that Fred and George were hoping for a glimpse of Dudley; they had heard a lot about him from Harry.

“Well,” said Mr. Weasley, swinging his arms slightly, while he tried to find words to break the very nasty silence. “Very - erm - very nice place you've got here.”

As the usually spotless living room was now covered in dust and bits of brick, this remark didn't go down too well with the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon's face purpled once more, and Aunt Petunia started chewing her tongue again. However, they seemed too scared to actually say anything.

Mr. Weasley was looking around. He loved everything to do with Muggles. Harry could see him itching to go and examine the television and the video recorder.

“They run off eckeltricity, do they?” he said knowledgeably. “Ah yes, I can see the plugs. I collect plugs,” he added to Uncle Vernon. “And batteries. Got a very large collection of batteries. My wife thinks I'm mad, but there you are.”

Uncle Vernon clearly thought Mr. Weasley was mad too. He moved ever so slightly to the right, screening Aunt Petunia from view, as though he thought Mr. Weasley might suddenly run at them and attack.

Dudley suddenly reappeared in the room. Harry could hear the clunk of his trunk on the stairs, and knew that the sounds had scared Dudley out of the kitchen. Dudley edged along the wall, gazing at Mr. Weasley with terrified eyes, and attempted to conceal himself behind his mother and father. Unfortunately, Uncle Vernon's bulk, while sufficient to hide bony Aunt Petunia, was nowhere near enough to conceal Dudley.

“Ah, this is your cousin, is it, Harry?” said Mr. Weasley, taking another brave stab at making conversation.

“Yep,” said Harry, “that's Dudley.”

He and Ron exchanged glances and then quickly looked away from each other; the temptation to burst out laughing was almost overwhelming. Dudley was still clutching his bottom as though afraid it might fall off. Mr. Weasley, however, seemed genuinely concerned at Dudley's peculiar behavior. Indeed, from the tone of his voice when he next spoke, Harry was quite sure that Mr. Weasley thought Dudley was quite as mad as the Dursleys thought he was, except that Mr. Weasley felt sympathy rather than fear.

“Having a good holiday, Dudley?” he said kindly.

Dudley whimpered. Harry saw his hands tighten still harder over his massive backside.

Fred and George came back into the room carrying Harry's school trunk. They glanced around as they entered and spotted Dudley. Their faces cracked into identical evil grins.

“Ah, right,” said Mr. Weasley. “Better get cracking then.”

He pushed up the sleeves of his robes and took out his wand. Harry saw the Dursleys draw back against the wall as one.

“Incendio!” said Mr. Weasley, pointing his wand at the hole in the wall behind him.

Flames rose at once in the fireplace, crackling merrily as though they had been burning for hours. Mr. Weasley took a small drawstring bag from his pocket, untied it, took a pinch of the powder inside, and threw it onto the flames, which turned emerald green and roared higher than ever.

“Off you go then, Fred,” said Mr. Weasley.

“Coming,” said Fred. “Oh no - hang on -”

A bag of sweets had spilled out of Fred's pocket and the contents were now rolling in every direction - big, fat toffees in brightly colored wrappers.

Fred scrambled around, cramming them back into his pocket, then gave the Dursleys a cheery wave, stepped forward, and walked right into the fire, saying “the Burrow!” Aunt Petunia gave a little shuddering gasp. There was a whooshing sound, and Fred vanished.

“Right then, George,” said Mr. Weasley, “you and the trunk.”

Harry helped George carry the trunk forward into the flames and turn it onto its end so that he could hold it better. Then, with a second whoosh, George had cried “the Burrow!” and vanished too.

“Ron, you next,” said Mr. Weasley.

“See you,” said Ron brightly to the Dursleys. He grinned broadly at Harry, then stepped into the fire, shouted “the Burrow!” and disappeared.

Now Harry and Mr. Weasley alone remained.

“Well…'bye then,” Harry said to the Dursleys.

They didn't say anything at all. Harry moved toward the fire, but just as he reached the edge of the hearth, Mr. Weasley put out a hand and held him back. He was looking at the Dursleys in amazement.

“Harry said good-bye to you,” he said. “Didn't you hear him?”

“It doesn't matter,” Harry muttered to Mr. Weasley. “Honestly, I don't care.”

Mr. Weasley did not remove his hand from Harry's shoulder.

“You aren't going to see your nephew till next summer,” he said to Uncle Vernon in mild indignation. “Surely you're going to say good-bye?”

Uncle Vernon's face worked furiously. The idea of being taught consideration by a man who had just blasted away half his living room wall seemed to be causing him intense suffering. But Mr. Weasley's wand was still in his hand, and Uncle Vernon's tiny eyes darted to it once, before he said, very resentfully, “Good-bye, then.”

“See you,” said Harry, putting one foot forward into the green flames, which felt pleasantly like warm breath. At that moment, however, a horrible gagging sound erupted behind him, and Aunt Petunia started to scream.

Harry wheeled around. Dudley was no longer standing behind his parents. He was kneeling beside the coffee table, and he was gagging and sputtering on a foot-long, purple, slimy thing that was protruding from his mouth. One bewildered second later, Harry realized that the foot-long thing was Dudley's tongue - and that a brightly colored toffee wrapper lay on the floor before him.

Aunt Petunia hurled herself onto the ground beside Dudley, seized the end of his swollen tongue, and attempted to wrench it out of his mouth; unsurprisingly, Dudley yelled and sputtered worse than ever, trying to fight her off. Uncle Vernon was bellowing and waving his arms around, and Mr. Weasley had to shout to make himself heard.

“Not to worry, I can sort him out!” he yelled, advancing on Dudley with his wand outstretched, but Aunt Petunia screamed worse than ever and threw herself on top of Dudley, shielding him from Mr. Weasley.

“No, really!” said Mr. Weasley desperately. “It's a simple process it was the toffee - my son Fred - real practical joker - but it's only an Engorgement Charm - at least, I think it is - please, I can correct it -”

But far from being reassured, the Dursleys became more panic- stricken; Aunt Petunia was sobbing hysterically, tugging Dudley's tongue as though determined to rip it out; Dudley appeared to be suffocating under the combined pressure of his mother and his tongue; and Uncle Vernon, who had lost control completely, seized a china figure from on top of the sideboard and threw it very hard at Mr. Weasley, who ducked, causing the ornament to shatter in the blasted fireplace.

“Now really!” said Mr. Weasley angrily, brandishing his wand. “I'm trying to help!”

Bellowing like a wounded hippo, Uncle Vernon snatched up another ornament.

“Harry, go! Just go!” Mr. Weasley shouted, his wand on Uncle Vernon. “I'll sort this out!”

Harry didn't want to miss the fun, but Uncle Vernon's second ornament narrowly missed his left ear, and on balance he thought it best to leave the situation to Mr. Weasley. He stepped into the fire, looking over his shoulder as he said “the Burrow!” His last fleeting glimpse of the living room was of Mr. Weasley blasting a third ornament out of Uncle Vernon's hand with his wand, Aunt Petunia screaming and lying on top of Dudley, and Dudley's tongue lolling around like a great slimy python. But next moment Harry had begun to spin very fast, and the Dursleys’ living room was whipped out of sight in a rush of emerald-green flames.

第二天十二时前，哈利的行李箱塞满了上学用品，也塞满了所有的奖品——他从父亲那里继承下来的隐身衣，西里斯那里得到的扫帚，去年弗来德和乔治给的霍格瓦彻魔法地图。他清空了地板底下的所有吃的东西，小心翼翼地检查每个角落，每个缝隙，不要忘记拼写课本及羽毛笔，从墙取下一直划到9月1日的时间表——哈利划去的，为了早日返回霍格瓦彻。

　　普里怀特街四号里面的气氛特别紧张。一批巫师就要到他们家，达德里一家坐立不安，暴躁易怒。哈利告诉他威斯里家人五点到，维能看上去完全处于惊恐之中。

　　“我希望你已告诉他们穿得体面些，这些人，”他马上厉声说道，“我曾经看见过你们这些人穿的那种衣服，他们最好体面地穿上正常服装。就这些。”

　　哈利有一种预感。他从来没有见过威斯里夫妇穿杜斯利夫妇称之为正常的衣服。假期，他们的孩子们可能穿马格的衣服，仅威斯里夫妻俩通常穿肮脏无比的长袍。哈利不担心邻居们会怎么想，他担心当威斯里穿的是维能姨丈最厌恶的那种样子，维能姨丈对威斯里一家将会何等粗鲁。

　　维能姨丈穿上他最好的衣服。对某些人来说，这样可能是出于表示欢迎，但哈利知道姨丈是要给别人留下深刻印像，同样对别人也是一种威胁。达德里却精神没那么好。不是因为新食谱终于起作用，而是由于害怕。他上次遇到了一个大巫师用一个卷毛猪尾刺穿他的座位并刺进了他的屁股。为此不得不付笔钱让他在伦敦一家私人医院取出猪尾。因此，达德里总是一边紧张地从一个房间踱到另一个房间，一边用手摸屁股，好像不会让同一目标再送给敌人似的。

　　午餐悄悄地进行。达德里也不抱怨食物（农家奶酪，磨碎了的芹菜）。姨妈什么也不吃。她撑着胳膊，双唇紧闭，好像在嚼舌头，虽然她想狠狠地怒斥哈利，但又缩了回去。

　　“他们开车来的吧？”对面姨丈说话。

　　“呃。”哈利说。

　　他本想过，他们将怎样接他走呢？他们也没有车，曾经有的那辆旧福得。安利亚现在正在霍格瓦彻禁林里狂奔。但威斯里先生去年从魔法部里借了部车，也许今天也一样？

　　“我想是这样。”哈利说。

　　维能姨丈嗤之以鼻。通常情况下，姨丈会再问威斯里先生开什么样的车，他趋向于根据车的大小，车的昂贵程度来判断他人。但哈利怀疑即使威斯里先生开法拉利来，他也会无动于衷。

　　下午大部分时间哈利都是在卧室里度过。姨妈每隔一会就朝窗帘外看去，好像有人警告说一头犀牛在逃窜。哈利实在受不了。终于，四点四十五分时，哈利下了楼，来到客厅。

　　姨妈粗暴地把沙发坐垫弄直。姨丈在假装着报，但他的小眼睛却未动，哈利肯定他实际上在全神贯注地听是否有小车在开过来。

　　达德里坐在手扶椅上，肥肥大手放在屁股下，牢牢地钳住。哈利没有办法消除紧张局面，他离开房间，坐在大厅里的楼梯上，眼睛看着大门，因为兴奋，心跳得飞快。

　　但五点到了，很快又过了五点，姨丈穿着的衣服都被汗浸湿，他打开前门，往街上两头望望，然后很快就回来了。

　　“他们迟到了。”他对哈利说。

　　“我知道。”哈利说，“也许，塞车，或者别的原因。”

　　五点过五分，……接着五点过十分……哈利现在开始感到不安。五点半时，他听到姨丈和姨妈在客厅里简短地对话。

　　“根本没有考虑别人。”

　　“我们本来有个约会。”

　　“也许他们认为如果迟些我们会请他们吃饭。”

　　“他们最好别想。”姨丈说，哈利听见他站起来，在客厅来回踱步。“他们来接这个孩子后马上就得走，周围没有什么好逗留的。

　　那是说他们来的话。也许搞错了日期。我敢说他们那种人根本不知道做事情要一丝不苟。要么这样，他们开了辆破车，在路上环！“

　　从客厅另一边的门那儿，传来杜斯利一家三口惊恐的叫声。接着达德里飞一般回到大厅，看起来受了惊吓。

　　哈利跳了起来说，“怎么回事？有什么不妥？”

　　但达德里好像说不出话来。双手还是护着屁股，他尽快走进厨房。哈利匆忙来到客厅。

　　杜斯利家的暖火炉后面传来很大的“砰”及“刮到”声，炉子有煤火堵在前面。

　　“那是什么？”姨妈说，她已回到墙那边，眼睛一动不动，看着炉火吓坏了。“那是什么？维能？”

　　但很快他们就知道真相了，壁炉里面传出了声音。

　　“噢，弗来德，不要——回去吧，回去吧，有点毛病，叫乔治不要——哎哟！不要，没有地方，马上回去，告诉罗恩——”

　　“也许哈利能听见我们说话，也许他会让我们出去。”

　　电炉后面传来用拳头敲打木板的声音。

　　“哈利？哈利，你能听见吗？”

　　杜斯利一家围住哈利，就像几个发怒的狼罐一样。

　　“这是什么？”姨丈咆哮说，“这是怎么回事？”

　　“他们想用芙露粉到这里。”哈利说，真想大笑起来，“他们会在火上行，只是你们封住了壁炉的出口——等一等——”

　　他靠近炉子，对着木板喊叫。

　　“威斯里先生，你能听见我说话吗？”

　　敲打声停止了。烟囱里有人说，“是”。

　　“威斯里先生，是哈利呀。壁炉被封住了，您过不来。”

　　“该死的！”威斯里先生说，“他们究竟为什么要封住壁炉？”

　　“他们有电炉。”哈利解释说。

　　“真的吗？”威斯里先生说，他很兴奋，“电吗，你说？有插头？

　　天哪，我得看看，让我们想想……哎哟，罗恩！“

　　罗恩的声音现在加入了。

　　“我们在这里干啥？有什么问题吗产”噢，没有，罗恩，“弗来德说，好像有点讥讽的口气。”这里刚好是咱们的目的地。“

　　“噫，我们在享受人生，”乔治说，他的声音很低，好像头撞到了墙。

　　威斯里先生含糊不清地说，“孩子们，我在想怎么办。是的……唯一的办法……往后站，哈利！”

　　哈利退后到沙发。可姨丈却向上前走。

　　“等一下！”他对着火炉说：“你们究竟要干什么？”

　　嘭！

　　木板壁炉向外迸裂出来，电炉射过房间，威斯里，弗来德，乔治，罗恩满是石头碎片，木屑片洒了一地。姨妈尖叫着向后倒向咖啡桌，姨丈在她还未倒在地上扶起了她，目瞪口呆，一句话也说不出来。这几位威斯里家人，全部都是红红的头发，包括弗来德、乔治，他们完全一样。

　　“这下好了，”威斯里先生上气不接下气地说，刷刷他那绿色长施上的灰尘，正了正眼镜，“啊——你们一定就是哈利的姨丈、姨妈吧！”

　　又高又瘦还完头的威斯里先生朝姨丈走去，伸出手，但姨丈却后退了几步，拉住姨妈，姨丈完全说不出话来。他最好的衣服上满是灰尘，连头发，胡子里也是这样，使他看上去好像老了三十年。

　　“呃——真是的——抱歉，”威斯里先生说，他放下手，低头看了看炸了的炉子，“都是我的错，我们从另一端出不来，我不应该这样的。我把您的炉子连到福仑网上，只接一个下午，这样我们就可以接哈利，你们的炉子是不应该连接在一起的，严格地说起来就是这样，但我事先进行了有用的连接……我可以在顷刻之间把它恢复原样。别担心。我会升堆火把孩子们送回去。在我走前，我可以为您修好炉子。”

　　哈利敢打赌杜斯利一家完全不懂威斯里的意思。他们惊得目瞪口呆。姨妈摇摇晃晃，站立不安，干脆躲到姨丈身后去了。

　　“喂，哈利，”威斯里说，“把你的行李箱准备好！”

　　“在楼上。”哈利笑着说。

　　“我们去拿，”弗来德马上说，对哈利眨眨眼睛，弗来德和乔治离开了房间。他们知道哈利的卧室在哪里。哈利怀疑他们可能只是想看一眼达德里，他们从他那里听说过很多关于他的事。

　　“噢，”威斯里先生甩了甩手，他想搜索枯肠找些话来打破这令人不快的沉默。“很，很好的地方，你们这个地方不错。”

　　这平常一尘不染的客厅现在满是尘土，砖砾，这样说对杜斯利一家来说并不是太好。姨丈的脸又一次变紫，姨妈又开始嚼舌头。

　　然而他们好像太怕了，什么也说不出。

　　威斯里先生环顾四周。他喜爱马格人的一切东西。哈利可以看出他想去看看电视机，录像机。

　　“他们关掉了电源，是吧？”他好像知道似地说。

　　“呵！我可以看见插头，我收集插头。”他对维能姨文说。“还有电池。收集一大堆电池。我妻子认为我有毛病，但哪有这回事。”

　　维能姨丈也认为威斯里疯了。他慢慢地往右靠，挡住姨妈，好像认为威斯里会突然扑过去对他们发动袭击似的。

　　达德里突然又在房间里出现。哈利听见楼上关行李箱的声音，知道这声音把达德里吓得从厨房跑了出来。达德里靠着墙边走，眼里充满恐惧，盯着威斯里先生看，想躲在他妈妈爸爸的身后。不幸的是，他爸爸的身躯足可以遮着他妈妈，但怎么也遮不住他。

　　“呵！这是你表兄，哈利？”威斯里尝试着说。

　　“是，”哈利说，“他是达德里。”

　　他和罗恩交换了一下眼色，随即离开了，因为很难抗拒想笑的诱惑。达德里还是护住他的屁股，生怕掉下来。威斯里先生可真的关心达德里这个特别动作。从他下句话的语气来看，哈利很肯定威斯里认为达德里疯了，就如同达德里认为他疯了一样，所不同的是，威斯里感到同情而不是害怕。

　　“假期过得好吧，达德里？”他和蔼地说。

　　达德里开始啜泣。哈利看见他的手握得他那硕大的屁股更紧更紧了。

　　弗来德和乔治返回房间，手里拿着哈利的行李箱。当他们进来时向四周看了看，认出了达德里，同时都邪邪地笑了笑。

　　“呵，好，”威斯里说，“最好大笑。”

　　他捋了捋袖子，拿出魔杖，哈利看见杜斯利三人朝墙靠，挤得像一个人一样。

　　“点火，”威斯里把魔杖指向他身后的墙洞，说道。

　　壁炉里火炮随即升起，噼哩作响，好像已烧了几小时。威斯里从口袋里掏出一个系绳袋，打开它，取出一点粉扔到火焰上，火焰变成了翠绿色，烧得比以前更高更猛。

　　“弗来德，你去吧！”威斯里说。

　　“来了，”弗来德说，“不，等一下。”

　　一袋糖果排出来了，滚得满地都是，又大又肥的太妃糖，包装得很漂亮。

　　弗来德到处爬找，把糖果又塞了回去。然后高兴地朝达德里挥挥手，向前走去，走进火里，说了声“回洞”，姨妈浑浑发抖，屏住了呼吸，“飕”的一声，弗来德不见了。

　　“乔治，来，”威斯里说，“你和行李箱。”

　　哈利帮助乔治把行李箱拿过火里，乔治说了声“回洞”，“飕”

　　的一声，乔治也不见了。

　　“罗恩，你下一个。”威斯里说。

　　“再见。”罗恩很高兴地对达德里说。他对哈利唏唏一笑，走进火里，说了声“回洞”，消失了。

　　现在只有哈利，威斯里先生了。

　　“那么，再见吧。”哈利对姨文家人说。

　　他们什么也没说。哈利往火里走去。就在他快走到达炉边时，威斯里伸出手并把他拉了回来，他对达德里一家的反映感到很惊讶。

　　“哈利跟你们说再见，”他说，“你们听不见吗？”

　　“没关系。”哈利喃喃地对威斯里先生说，“我真不在意。”

　　威斯里先生没有松开他的手，仍放在哈利肩上。

　　“要到明年夏天你才会见到你的侄子，”他有几分义愤地对维能姨丈说，“你当然要向他说再见。”

　　姨丈脸上愠怒于色。被一个炸掉半个客厅的人教训好像让他很难受。

　　然而，威斯里的魔杖在手，姨丈的小眼瞅了瞅它一眼，很怨恨地说道，“再见吧。”

　　“再见”。哈利说，一脚踏进绿焰，仿佛觉得是温暖的呼吸一样。就在那时，身后传来可怕的呕吐声。姨妈开始惊叫。

　　哈利转过身来。达德里不再站在他父母身后。他跪在咖啡桌边，并且在呕吐，从他口中伸出的一个一英尺长的紫色细条物在嘛啪作响。惶恐了一会后哈利才意识到了那一英尺长的细物是达德里的舌头，那个漂亮的太妃糖纸就在他前面的地板上。

　　姨妈不顾一切地向达德里身边的地板扑过去。抓住达德里浮肿舌头的一端，想把它从口中拨出来，一点也不奇怪，达德里叫得更凶，吐得更厉害，他想把他妈妈推开。维能姨丈大吼大叫，挥动胳膊兜圈子，威斯里不得不大叫才能让他们听得见。

　　“别担心，我能有办法，”他伸出魔杖，朝达德里走去，但姨妈叫得更厉害了，趴在达德里身上，不想让威斯里接近达德里。

　　“不，真的，”威斯里先生绝望他说，“这是一个简单的过程。

　　就是因为那太妃糖，我儿子弗来德，真的喜欢开玩笑，但这是一个咒语，至少，我认为，我可以纠正它——“

　　但是这远远没有让杜斯利一家清除疑虑，他们变得更加惶恐。

　　姨妈歇斯底里的哭泣，拉住达德里的舌头好像决心要把它拉出来，在他母亲和舌头的双重压力下达德里几乎窒息。姨丈已完全失去控制，抓住一个厨柜里的陶瓷像向威斯里用力砸去，威斯里低下头躲过，这装饰品却在壁炉里摔得粉碎。

　　“现在，真的，”威斯里说，他生气了，挥舞着魔杖，“我来试试看。”

　　维能姨丈像一头受伤的河马，大喊大叫，抓起了另一件装饰物。

　　“哈利，走吧。”威斯里吼道，魔杖打在姨丈身上。

　　哈利不想错过这热闹。但姨丈的第二个装饰物就在他左耳边经过，权衡一下后，他认为最好还是把这种局面交给威斯里先生来处理。他向火里走去，说了声“回洞”，最后看见威斯里用魔杖让姨文手中的第三个装饰物飞出去后炸掉。姨妈尖叫着，躺在杜斯利身上，达德里的舌头筋疲力竭地靠着她，像一条巨大的黏滑的蟒蛇。

　　但哈利已开始快速打转，在绿色火焰中刹那间飞出了达德里的客厅。