Chapter 5,6

Chapter 5 Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes

Harry spun faster and faster, elbows tucked tightly to his sides, blurred fireplaces flashing past him, until he started to feel sick and closed his eyes. Then, when at last he felt himself slowing down, he threw out his hands and came to a halt in time to prevent himself from falling face forward out of the Weasleys’ kitchen fire.

“Did he eat it?” said Fred excitedly, holding out a hand to pull Harry to his feet.

“Yeah,” said Harry, straightening up. “What was it?”

“Ton-Tongue Toffee,” said Fred brightly. “George and I invented them, and we've been looking for someone to test them on all summer.…”

The tiny kitchen exploded with laughter; Harry looked around and saw that Ron and George were sitting at the scrubbed wooden table with two red-haired people Harry had never seen before, though he knew immediately who they must be: Bill and Charlie, the two eldest Weasley brothers.

“How're you doing, Harry?” said the nearer of the two, grinning at him and holding out a large hand, which Harry shook, feeling calluses and blisters under his fingers. This had to be Charlie, who worked with dragons in Romania. Charlie was built like the twins, shorter and stockier than Percy and Ron, who were both long and lanky. He had a broad, good-natured face, which was weather-beaten and so freckly that he looked almost tanned; his arms were muscular, and one of them had a large, shiny burn on it.

Bill got to his feet, smiling, and also shook Harry's hand. Bill came as something of a surprise. Harry knew that he worked for the wizarding bank, Gringotts, and that Bill had been Head Boy at Hogwarts; Harry had always imagined Bill to be an older version of Percy: fussy about rule-breaking and fond of bossing everyone around. However, Bill was - there was no other word for it - cool. He was tall, with long hair that he had tied back in a ponytail. He was wearing an earring with what looked like a fang dangling from it. Bill's clothes would not have looked out of place at a rock concert, except that Harry recognized his boots to be made, not of leather, but of dragon hide.

Before any of them could say anything else, there was a faint popping noise, and Mr. Weasley appeared out of thin air at George's shoulder. He was looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him.

“That wasn't funny Fred!” he shouted. “What on earth did you give that Muggle boy?”

“I didn't give him anything,” said Fred, with another evil grin. I just dropped it….It was his fault he went and ate it, I never told him to.”

“You dropped it on purpose!” roared Mr. Weasley. “You knew he'd eat it, you knew he was on a diet -”

“How big did his tongue get?” George asked eagerly.

“It was four feet long before his parents would let me shrink it!”

Harry and the Weasleys roared with laughter again.

“It isn't funny!” Mr. Weasley shouted. “That sort of behavior seriously undermines wizard-Muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of Muggles, and my own sons

“We didn't give it to him because he's a Muggle!” said Fred indignantly.

“No, we gave it to him because he's a great bullying git,” said George. “Isn't he, Harry?”

“Yeah, he is, Mr. Weasley,” said Harry earnestly.

“That's not the point!” raged Mr. Weasley. “You wait until I tell your mother -”

“Tell me what?” said a voice behind them.

Mrs. Weasley had just entered the kitchen. She was a short, plump woman with a very kind face, though her eyes were presently narrowed with suspicion.

“Oh hello, Harry, dear,” she said, spotting him and smiling. Then her eyes snapped back to her husband. “Tell me what, Arthur?”

Mr. Weasley hesitated. Harry could tell that, however angry he was with Fred and George, he hadn't really intended to tell Mrs. Weasley what had happened. There was a silence, while Mr. Weasley eyed his wife nervously. Then two girls appeared in the kitchen doorway behind Mrs. Weasley. One, with very bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth, was Harry's and Ron's friend, Hermione Granger. The other, who was small and red-haired, was Ron's younger sister, Ginny. Both of them smiled at Harry, who grinned back, which made Ginny go scarlet - she had been very taken with Harry ever since his first visit to the Burrow.

“Tell me what, Arthur?” Mrs. Weasley repeated, in a dangerous sort of voice.

“It's nothing, Molly,” mumbled Mr. Weasley, “Fred and George just - but I've had words with them -”

“What have they done this time?” said Mrs. Weasley. “If it's got anything to do with Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes -”

“Why don't you show Harry where he's sleeping, Ron?” said Hermione from the doorway.

“He knows where he's sleeping,” said Ron, “in my room, he slept there last -”

“We can all go,” said Hermione pointedly.

“Oh,” said Ron, cottoning on. “Right.”

“Yeah, we'll come too,” said George.

“You stay where you are!” snarled Mrs. Weasley.

Harry and Ron edged out of the kitchen, and they, Hermione, and Ginny set off along the narrow hallway and up the rickety staircase that zigzagged through the house to the upper stories.

“What are Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes?” Harry asked as they climbed.

Ron and Ginny both laughed, although Hermione didn't.

“Mum found this stack of order forms when she was cleaning Fred and George's room,” said Ron quietly. “Great long price lists for stuff they've invented. Joke stuff, you know. Fake wands and trick sweets, loads of stuff. It was brilliant, I never knew they'd been inventing all that…”

“We've been hearing explosions out of their room for ages, but we never thought they were actually making things,” said Ginny. “We thought they just liked the noise.”

“Only, most of the stuff - well, all of it, really - was a bit dangerous,” said Ron, “and, you know, they were planning to sell it at Hogwarts to make some money, and Mum went mad at them. Told them they weren't allowed to make any more of it, and burned all the order forms….She's furious at them anyway. They didn't get as many O.W.L.s as she expected.”

O.W.L.s were Ordinary Wizarding Levels, the examinations Hogwarts students took at the age of fifteen.

“And then there was this big row,” Ginny said, “because Mum wants them to go into the Ministry of Magic like Dad, and they told her all they want to do is open a joke shop.”

Just then a door on the second landing opened, and a face poked out wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a very annoyed expression.

“Hi, Percy,” said Harry.

“Oh hello, Harry,” said Percy. “I was wondering who was making all the noise. I'm trying to work in here, you know I've got a report to finish for the office - and it's rather difficult to concentrate when people keep thundering up and down the stairs.”

“We're not thundering, “said Ron irritably. “We're walking. Sorry if we've disturbed the top-secret workings of the Ministry of Magic.”

“What are you working on?” said Harry.

“A report for the Department of International Magical Cooperation,” said Percy smugly. “We're trying to standardize cauldron thickness. Some of these foreign imports are just a shade too thin - leakages have been increasing at a rate of almost three percent a year -”

“That'll change the world, that report will,” said Ron. “Front page of the Daily Prophet, I expect, cauldron leaks.”

Percy went slightly pink.

“You might sneer, Ron,” he said heatedly, “but unless some sort of international law is imposed we might well find the market flooded with flimsy, shallow-bottomed products that seriously endanger -”

“Yeah, yeah, all right,” said Ron, and he started off upstairs again. Percy slammed his bedroom door shut. As Harry, Hermione, and Ginny followed Ron up three more flights of stairs, shouts from the kitchen below echoed up to them. It sounded as though Mr. Weasley had told Mrs. Weasley about the toffees.

The room at the top of the house where Ron slept looked much as it had the last time that Harry had come to stay: the same posters of Ron's favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons, were whirling and waving on the walls and sloping ceiling, and the fish tank on the windowsill, which had previously held frog spawn, now contained one extremely large frog. Ron's old rat, Scabbers, was here no more, but instead there was the tiny gray owl that had delivered Ron's letter to Harry in Privet Drive. It was hopping up and down in a small cage and twittering madly.

“Shut up, Pig,” said Ron, edging his way between two of the four beds that had been squeezed into the room. “Fred and George are in here with us, because Bill and Charlie are in their room,” he told Harry. “Percy gets to keep his room all to himself because he's got to work.”

“Er - why are you calling that owl Pig?” Harry asked Ron.

“Because he's being stupid,” said Ginny, “Its proper name is Pigwidgeon.”

“Yeah, and that's not a stupid name at all,” said Ron sarcastically. “Ginny named him,” he explained to Harry. “She reckons it's sweet. And I tried to change it, but it was too late, he won't answer to anything else. So now he's Pig. I've got to keep him up here because he annoys Errol and Hermes. He annoys me too, come to that.

Pigwidgeon zoomed happily around his cage, hooting shrilly. Harry knew Ron too well to take him seriously. He had moaned continually about his old rat, Scabbers, but had been most upset when Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, appeared to have eaten him.

“Where's Crookshanks?” Harry asked Hermione now.

“Out in the garden, I expect,” she said. “He likes chasing gnomes. He's never seen any before.”

“Percy's enjoying work, then?” said Harry, sitting down on one of the beds and watching the Chudley Cannons zooming in and out of the posters on the ceiling.

“Enjoying it?” said Ron darkly. “I don't reckon he'd come home if Dad didn't make him. He's obsessed. Just don't get him onto the subject of his boss. According to Mr. Crouch…as I was saying to Mr. Crouch… Mr. Crouch is of the opinion…Mr. Crouch was telling me…They'll be announcing their engagement any day now.”

“Have you had a good summer, Harry?” said Hermione. “Did you get our food parcels and everything?”

“Yeah, thanks a lot,” said Harry. “They saved my life, those cakes.”

“And have you heard from -?” Ron began, but at a look from Hermione he fell silent. Harry knew Ron had been about to ask about Sirius. Ron and Hermione had been so deeply involved in helping Sirius escape from the Ministry of Magic that they were almost as concerned about Harry's godfather as he was. However, discussing him in front of Ginny was a bad idea. Nobody but themselves and Professor Dumbledore knew about how Sirius had escaped, or believed in his innocence.

“I think they've stopped arguing,” said Hermione, to cover the awkward moment, because Ginny was looking curiously from Ron to Harry. “Shall we go down and help your mum with dinner?”

“Yeah, all right,” said Ron. The four of them left Ron's room and went back downstairs to find Mrs. Weasley alone in the kitchen, looking extremely bad-tempered.

“We're eating out in the garden,” she said when they came in. “There's just not room for eleven people in here. Could you take the plates outside, girls? Bill and Charlie are setting up the tables. Knives and forks, please, you two,” she said to Ron and Harry, pointing her wand a little more vigorously than she had intended at a pile of potatoes in the sink, which shot out of their skins so fast that they ricocheted off the walls and ceiling.

“Oh for heaven's sake,” she snapped, now directing her wand at a dustpan, which hopped off the sideboard and started skating across the floor, scooping up the potatoes. “Those two!” she burst out savagely, now pulling pots and pans out of a cupboard, and Harry knew she meant Fred and George. I don't know what's going to happen to them, I really don't. No ambition, unless you count making as much trouble as they possibly can….”

Mrs. Weasley slammed a large copper saucepan down on the kitchen table and began to wave her wand around inside it. A creamy sauce poured from the wand tip as she stirred.

“It's not as though they haven't got brains, she continued irritably, taking the saucepan over to the stove and lighting it with a further poke of her wand, “but they're wasting them, and unless they pull themselves together soon, they'll be in real trouble. I've had more owls from Hogwarts about them than the rest put together. If they carry on the way they're going, they'll end up in front of the Improper Use of Magic Office.”

Mrs. Weasley jabbed her wand at the cutlery drawer, which shot open. Harry and Ron both jumped out of the way as several knives soared out of it, flew across the kitchen, and began chopping the potatoes, which had just been tipped back into the sink by the dustpan.

“I don't know where we went wrong with them,” said Mrs. Weasley, putting down her wand and starting to pull out still more saucepans. “It's been the same for years, one thing after another, and they won't listen to - OH NOT AGAIN!”

She had picked up her wand from the table, and it had emitted a loud squeak and turned into a giant rubber mouse.

“One of their fake wands again!” she shouted. “How many times have I told them not to leave them lying around?”

She grabbed her real wand and turned around to find that the sauce on the stove was smoking.

“C'mon,” Ron said hurriedly to Harry, seizing a handful of cutlery from the open drawer, “let's go and help Bill and Charlie.”

They left Mrs. Weasley and headed out the back door into the yard.

They had only gone a few paces when Hermione's bandy-legged ginger cat, Crookshanks, came pelting out of the garden, bottle-brush tail held high in the air, chasing what looked like a muddy potato on legs. Harry recognized it instantly as a gnome. Barely ten inches high, its horny little feet pattered very fast as it sprinted across the yard and dived headlong into one of the Wellington boots that lay scattered around the door. Harry could hear the gnome giggling madly as Crookshanks inserted a paw into the boot, trying to reach it. Meanwhile, a very loud crashing noise was coming from the other side of the house. The source of the commotion was revealed as they entered the garden, and saw that Bill and Charlie both had their wands out, and were making two battered old tables fly high above the lawn, smashing into each other, each attempting to knock the other's out of the air. Fred and George were cheering, Ginny was laughing, and Hermione was hovering near the hedge, apparently torn between amusement and anxiety.

Bill's table caught Charlie's with a huge bang and knocked one of its legs off. There was a clatter from overhead, and they all looked up to see Percy's head poking out of a window on the second floor.

“Will you keep it down?!” he bellowed.

“Sorry, Perce,” said Bill, grinning. “How're the cauldron bottoms coming on?”

“Very badly,” said Percy peevishly, and he slammed the window shut. Chuckling, Bill and Charlie directed the tables safely onto the grass, end to end, and then, with a flick of his wand, Bill reattached the table leg and conjured tablecloths from nowhere.

By seven o'clock, the two tables were groaning under dishes and dishes of Mrs. Weasley's excellent cooking, and the nine Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione were settling themselves down to eat beneath a clear, deep-blue sky. To somebody who had been living on meals of increasingly stale cake all summer, this was paradise, and at first, Harry listened rather than talked as he helped himself to chicken and ham pie, boiled potatoes, and salad.

At the far end of the table, Percy was telling his father all about his report on cauldron bottoms.

“I've told Mr. Crouch that I'll have it ready by Tuesday,” Percy was saying pompously. “That's a bit sooner than he expected it, but I like to keep on top of things. I think he'll be grateful I've done it in good time, I mean, its extremely busy in our department just now, what with all the arrangements for the World Cup. We're just not getting the support we need from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Ludo Bagman -”

“I like Ludo,” said Mr. Weasley mildly. “He was the one who got us such good tickets for the Cup. I did him a bit of a favor: His brother, Otto, got into a spot of trouble - a lawnmower with unnatural powers - I smoothed the whole thing over.”

“Oh Bagman's likable enough, of course,” said Percy dismissively, “but how he ever got to be Head of Department…when I compare him to Mr. Crouch! I can't see Mr. Crouch losing a member of our department and not trying to find out what's happened to them. You realize Bertha Jorkins has been missing for over a month now? Went on holiday to Albania and never came back?”

“Yes, I was asking Ludo about that,” said Mr. Weasley, frowning. “He says Bertha's gotten lost plenty of times before now - though must say, if it was someone in my department, I'd be worried.…”

“Oh Bertha's hopeless, all right,” said Percy. “I hear she's been shunted from department to department for years, much more trouble than she's worth…but all the same, Bagman ought to be trying to find her. Mr. Crouch has been taking a personal interest, she worked in our department at one time, you know, and I think Mr. Crouch was quite fond of her - but Bagman just keeps laughing and saying she probably misread the map and ended up in Australia instead of Albania. However” - Percy heaved an impressive sigh and took a deep swig of elderflower wine - “we've got quite enough on our plates at the Department of International Magical Cooperation without trying to find members of other departments too. As you know, we've got another big event to organize right after the World Cup.”

Percy cleared his throat significantly and looked down toward the end of the table where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting. “You know the one I'm talking about, Father.” He raised his voice slightly. “The top-secret one.”

Ron rolled his eyes and muttered to Harry and Hermione, “He's been trying to get us to ask what that event is ever since he started work. Probably an exhibition of thick-bottomed cauldrons.”

In the middle of the table, Mrs. Weasley was arguing with Bill about his earring, which seemed to be a recent acquisition.

“…with a horrible great fang on it. Really, Bill, what do they say at the bank?”

“Mum, no one at the bank gives a damn how I dress as long as I bring home plenty of treasure,” said Bill patiently.

“And your hair's getting silly, dear,” said Mrs. Weasley, fingering her wand lovingly.” I wish you'd let me give it a trim.…”

“I like it,” said Ginny, who was sitting beside Bill. “You're so old-fashioned, Mum. Anyway, it's nowhere near as long as Professor Dumbledore's….”

Next to Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, and Charlie were all talking spiritedly about the World Cup.

“It's got to be Ireland,” said Charlie thickly, through a mouthful of potato. “They flattened Peru in the semifinals.”

“Bulgaria has got Viktor Krum, though,” said Fred.

“Krum's one decent player, Ireland has got seven,” said Charlie shortly. “I wish England had got through. That was embarrassing, that was.”

“What happened?” said Harry eagerly, regretting more than ever his isolation from the wizarding world when he was stuck on Privet Drive.

“Went down to Transylvania, three hundred and ninety to ten,” said Charlie gloomily. “Shocking performance. And Wales lost to Uganda, and Scotland was slaughtered by Luxembourg.”

Harry had been on the Gryffindor House Quidditch team ever since his first year at Hogwarts and owned one of the best racing brooms in the world, a Firebolt. Flying came more naturally to Harry than anything else in the magical world, and he played in the position of Seeker on the Gryffindor House team.

Mr. Weasley conjured up candles to light the darkening garden before they had their homemade strawberry ice cream, and by the time they had finished, moths were fluttering low over the table, and the warm air was perfumed with the smells of grass and honeysuckle. Harry was feeling extremely well fed and at peace with the world as he watched several gnomes sprinting through the rosebushes, laughing madly and closely pursued by Crookshanks.

Ron looked carefully up the table to check that the rest of the family were all busy talking, then he said very quietly to Harry, “So - have you heard from Sirius lately?”

Hermione looked around, listening closely.

“Yeah,” said Harry softly, “twice. He sounds okay. I wrote to him yesterday. He might write back while I'm here.”

He suddenly remembered the reason he had written to Sirius, and for a moment was on the verge of telling Ron and Hermione about his scar hurting again, and about the dream that had awoken him…but he really didn't want to worry them just now, not when he himself was feeling so happy and peaceful.

“Look at the time,” Mrs. Weasley said suddenly, checking her wristwatch. “You really should be in bed, the whole lot of you you'll be up at the crack of dawn to get to the Cup. Harry, if you leave your school list out, I'll get your things for you tomorrow in Diagon Alley. I'm getting everyone else's. There might not be time after the World Cup, the match went on for five days last time.”

“Wow - hope it does this time!” said Harry enthusiastically.

“Well, I certainly don't,” said Percy sanctimoniously. “I shudder to think what the state of my in-tray would be if I was away from work for five days.”

“Yeah, someone might slip dragon dung in it again, eh, Perce?” said Fred.

“That was a sample of fertilizer from Norway!” said Percy, going very red in the face. “It was nothing personal!”

“It was,” Fred whispered to Harry as they got up from the table. “We sent it.”

　　哈利转得越来越快，肘子紧贴身子，朦胧的火炉在他身旁闪闪而过，直至他感到恶心，闭上了眼睛。然后他感到速度慢了下来，因此他伸出手来，以免面朝下跌倒，随后走出了威斯里的壁炉。

　　“他吃了吗？”弗来德兴奋地说，伸出手拉哈利到身边。

　　“是的，”哈利说边边伸直了腰，“那究竟是什么？”

　　“长舌太妃糖，”弗来德高兴地说，“我和乔治发明的。我们一个夏天都在找人做试验……”

　　小小厨房笑声如雷。

　　哈利环顾四周，看见罗恩、乔治坐在一张擦得干干净净的木桌旁，另外还有有两个红头发的人，哈利从来未见过。但他马上意识到了他们是谁：比尔和查理，威斯里兄弟中的两个年纪大的。

　　“哈利，你好！”两个中比较靠近哈利的那位说道，他对哈利笑了笑，伸出他的大手，哈利和他握了握手，觉得手指下面有硬茧及水泡。他一定是查理，他在罗马尼亚和龙一起生活。查理相貌像孪生兄弟俩，但比伯希，罗恩矮胖，而他们却修长。他的脸很大，自然，太阳晒得厉害，多斑，看起来完全被太阳晒黑了，双臂肌肉强健，一只胳膊上有一个疤。

　　比尔微笑着站起来，也和哈利握了握手。他的到来有几分令哈利吃惊。他为一家魔界银行工作，他曾经是霍格瓦彻的孩子王。比尔真像伯希的翻版，但比他老，他们都对破坏规定的事非常敏感，小题大作，而且喜欢对别人颐指气使。可是对比尔没有别的话可以形容他的冷淡。他个子高大，长头发，留成马尾型。他戴一个耳环，像吊着一颗毒牙。他的衣服看起来比较适合摇滚音乐会，哈利认得他的靴子不是皮革的，而是龙皮做的。

　　谁都还未来得及说别的，就听见一声“砰”的轻响，威斯里先生回来了，站在乔治肩膀旁边。他看起来很生气，哈利从来也没有看见过他如此生气过。

　　“那不是闹着玩的，弗来德，”他吼道，“你究竟给他吃了什么？”

　　“我没有给他任何东西，”弗来德说，又诡秘地笑了一下，“我只是掉下它，……这是他自己的错，他自己走过去吃了它，我从来也没叫他吃。”

　　“你是有意掉的，”威斯里吼道，“你知道他会吃的，你知道他贪吃……”

　　“他的舌头变多大啦？”乔治急切地问道。

　　“在他父母要我缩小它前，四英尺长。”

　　哈利和威斯里家人又哄堂大笑。

　　“一点也不好笑！”威斯里先生说，“那种行为严重破坏了巫师与马格人的关系！我花了半辈子来解除马格人对我们的误解，然而我的儿子却——”

　　弗来德愤怒地说，“我们就是因为他是马格人才没有把糖给他。”

　　“不，我们给了他，因为他喜欢欺负弱小，”乔治说，“对吧，哈利？”

　　“是的，他是，威斯里先生。”哈利认真地说。

　　“不是那样！”威斯里生气地说，“你们等着我告诉你们的母亲……”

　　“告诉我什么？”身后的声音说道。

　　威斯里夫人刚刚进屋。她是一个矮小而丰满的女人，有着一张慈祥的脸，此时却因为疑惑而眼睛眯着。

　　“喂，哈利，亲爱的，”她笑着对哈利问好后眼睛又很快地转向她丈夫，“亚瑟，告诉我什么？”

　　威斯里先生犹豫了。哈利知道无论他对弗来德、乔治多么生气，他都并不是真的想把事情告诉威斯里夫人的。威斯里先生的眼睛紧张地注视着威斯里夫人，又是一阵沉默。接着威斯里夫人后面的厨房门口出现了两个女孩。其中一个有一头茂密的棕发，大门牙，是哈利和罗恩的朋友，名字叫荷米恩。格林佐，另外一个，小小个，红头发，是罗恩的妹妹，名字叫金妮。哈利对她们笑了笑，金妮的脸一下子红了，自从上次“回洞”金妮就喜欢上哈利了。

　　“亚瑟，告诉我什么？”威斯里夫人又问道，口气很硬。

　　“没有什么，”威斯里先生说，“是弗来德和乔治，刚才我跟他们吵了一架。”

　　“他们这次做了什么？”威斯里夫人说。“如果这件事与威斯里巫师爆笑弹有什么关系的话……”

　　“为什么不让哈利看看他睡在哪里呢，罗恩？”荷米恩在门口说。

　　“他知道他睡哪里，”罗恩说，“在我房间，他睡那……上——”

　　“我们都可以去。”荷米恩说，指了指。

　　“噢，”罗恩说着，也明白了，“好吧。”

　　“好，我们也来。”乔治说。

　　“你就在这里！”威斯里夫人说。

　　哈利和罗恩慢慢地出了厨房，与荷米恩和金妮走过长长的走廊，上了摇摇晃晃的楼梯。

　　“威斯里的巫师咆哮弹是什么意思？”边爬楼梯，哈利边问道。

　　罗恩和金妮笑了，荷米恩却没笑。

　　“妈妈在整理弗来德和乔治的房间时发现了一堆订货单。”罗恩平静地说。“很长的价目表，上面是他们自己发明的东西。都是些搞笑的东西，你知道的。假魔杖、魔法糖……很有趣，我从来不知道他们在搞发明……”

　　“我们很久以前就听见过爆炸声从他们房间里传出来，但我们从来没想到他们真的在‘造’东西，”金妮说，“我们认为他们只是喜欢那种声音。”

　　“只是，大多数的东西——噢，所有的东西——都有点危险，”

　　罗恩说，“他们准备在霍格瓦彻卖，赚些钱，妈妈气得发疯。叫他们不准再造任何东西，并烧掉所有的订单……她真的对他们大发雷霆。他们没有达到她期望的O.W.L。”

　　O.W.L是普通巫师水平考试，霍格瓦彻学生在十五岁时参加这种考试。

　　“那么现在肯定吵翻了天，”金妮说，“因为妈妈要他们像爸爸一样进魔法部，而他们却说他们想开搞笑商店。”

　　就在那时，第二平台上的一扇门打开了，探出一张脸来，戴着鹿角镶边的眼镜，一副很生气的表情。

　　“嗨，伯希。”哈利说。

　　“噢，哈利，”伯希说。“我在想谁那么吵。我在干活，我有份报告要完成，有人在楼上楼下像打雷似的来回走，我很难集中注意力。”

　　“我们没有像打雷一样走，”罗恩生气地说，“我们在走路，如果我们打搅了魔法部的超级秘密工作，那很抱歉。”

　　“你在忙些什么呢？”哈利说。

　　“为国家魔法合作部写报告，”伯希自命不凡地说，“我们要把大锅的厚度标准化。有些进口货太薄了一点，每年渗漏增加率为百分之三。”

　　伯希的脸色有点红了。

　　“罗恩，你可以耻笑，”他热烈地说，“但如果没有某项国际法制定的话，我们会发现市场上将充满品质低劣、浅底的物品，严重危及……”

　　“对，对。”罗恩打断他的话后开始上楼，伯希砰的一声关上房门。哈利，荷术恩，金妮跟着罗恩又上了三段楼梯，厨房里传来很大的吼叫声，好像威斯里先生已把“太妃糖”的事告诉了威斯里夫人。

　　罗恩的房间在房子顶层，看起来跟上次哈利来时一样。一样的贴着罗恩最喜欢的快迪斯队的海报；库得利加能大炮挂在墙上，在有点倾斜的天花板上旋转；窗台上以前装过青蛙卵的鱼缸里，现在有一只特别大的青蛙。罗恩的老鼠斯卡伯斯不在了，却有一只很小的灰色猫头鹰，它曾帮助罗恩把信送到普里怀特街给哈利，它在一个小笼子里上下窜跳，得意非凡地叽叽喳喳讲个不停。

　　“好了吧，猪，”罗恩说，房里挤着四张床，他走进两张床的中间，接着说，“弗来德，乔治和我们在一起，比尔，查理在他们的房里，”他告诉哈利，“伯希一个人一个屋，因为他要工作。”

　　“呃，你为什么要叫那只猫头鹰‘猪’呢？”哈利问罗恩。

　　“因为他有点蠢，”金妮说，“它‘猪’名字叫皮威军。”

　　“是的，那才不像‘猪’一样是个蠢名，”罗恩讥讽地说，“是金妮给它取的名，”他跟哈利解释说，“她认为这名字很甜，我想改它，但太迟了，叫别的它根本不答应。因此，它成了‘猪’，我不得不在这里养它，因为它惹恼了厄罗尔和荷米恩，它也让我恼火，来吧。”

　　猫头鹰在绕笼飞驰，开心得尖声霍霍叫。哈利太了解罗恩了，知道罗恩并不会太喜欢它，不停地叼念着他的旧伴老鼠斯卡伯斯，但荷米恩的猫克路殊克前不久吃掉了它，这点尤其让罗恩觉得痛心。

　　“克路殊克（猫）在哪里？”哈利问荷米恩。

　　“在外面花园里，我想，”她说，“它喜欢追逐地精，但它从来没有见过。”

　　“伯希很喜欢工作？哈利一张床上坐下来，看着库得利加能大炮在天花板的海报上驶进驶出。

　　“喜欢？”罗恩秘密地说，“如果不是爸爸要他回来，他是不会回来的，他着迷了，不要提及他老板的话题，根据克劳斯先生……

　　像我跟克劳斯先生说的那样……据克劳斯先生看来……克劳斯先生告诉我，他们将随时宣布他们的雇用契约。“

　　“你夏天过得不错吧，哈利？”荷米恩说。“你收到了我们给你的食物包裹等东西了吗？”

　　“收到了，太感谢了，”哈利说，“那些蛋糕，救了我的命。”

　　“你收到……？”罗恩开始问，但哈利的眼神使他没有说下去。

　　哈利知道罗恩将问及西里斯，罗恩和荷米恩在帮助西里斯逃出魔法部时出了很大力，他们对西里斯的关心就跟哈利一样。但在金妮面前讨论这件事不好。只有他们自己和丹伯多教授知道西里斯是如何逃跑的，也只有他们几个相信西里斯是无辜的。

　　“我认为他们已不再争吵了，”荷米恩说，想消除这尴尬的局面，金妮正在好奇地打量罗恩和哈利，“我们下去帮妈妈做饭，好吗？”

　　“好，”罗恩说完，四人就离开了罗恩的房间，下了楼，看见威斯里夫人独坐在厨房，看起来脾气特别坏。

　　“我们将在花园外面吃！”她说，“这里没有十一个人的地方。

　　孩子们，你们可以把盘子拿到外面去吗？比尔和查理在摆桌子，你们两个负责刀叉。“他对罗恩和哈利说。她把魔杖指向地窖里的马铃薯，一大堆马铃薯一个个都剥了皮从天花板上、墙上跳飞过来。

　　“噢，看在上帝的份上，”她说着，一边指向簸箕，旋即它从那边跳起来，滑过房间地板，把那些土豆捞起装在里面。她很粗暴地说，“那两个家伙，”她正在把厨柜里的锅、壶拉出来，哈利知道那两个家伙指谁，当然是弗来德和乔治，“我不知道他们会发生什么事，真的不知道。没有抱负，除非你不想惹他们那么多的麻烦……”

　　她把一个很大的铜炖锅放在餐桌上，开始挥舞魔杖在里面搅，乳脂色的酱从魔杖棒尖往下流。

　　“他们并不蠢，”她继续说，越说越气，把铜锅放到炉子上，摆了一下魔杖点燃了炉子，“但他们在自暴自弃，如果他们两个自己不拉自己一把，他们真的有麻烦。从霍格瓦彻飞来的关于他们的猫头鹰比其余的加在一起还要多。假如他们继续走现在走的路，他们将在滥用魔法办公室里玩完。”

　　威斯里夫人对刀具抽屉捅了一下魔杖，抽屉打开了。哈利和罗恩都闪开让路，几把刀从抽屉里飞出来，飞过厨房，开始切土豆，簸箕装着它们并把它们送入水槽。

　　“我不知道我们哪里和他们不同，”威斯里夫人说，她放下魔杖，拉出更多的铜锅。“好多年都是这样子，一件事接另一件事的。

　　他们就是不听，噢，没脑子！“

　　她捡起魔杖，发出一声巨大吱吱叫，魔杖变成了一只巨大的橡皮老鼠。

　　“又是他们的一根假魔杖，”她吼叫，“我多少次叫他们不要把它们放在附近。”

　　她抓起她的真杖，转过身来发现炉上的酱已在冒烟。

　　“来，”罗恩匆忙地对哈利说，从开着的抽屉里抓了一把刀具，“让我们去帮比尔和查理吧！”

　　他们离开了威斯里夫人，出了后门，来到庭院。

　　他们才刚走几步，突然荷米恩的麦黄色o型腿的猫——克库圣克斯快速跑出花园，瓶刷似的猫尾竖在空中，正在追逐一个有腿的土豆泥，哈利马上就认出那就是地精。不到十英寸高，喇叭形的小脚啪哒啪哒地跑，尽量快地跑过庭院，一头扎进一只防水长靴——门的四周有许多这样的长靴，哈利听见地精咯咯笑，因为描伸出爪子想抓他。就在这里，房屋另一边传来撞击声，他们进到花园就知道这是怎么回事了。原来比尔和查理两人各拿魔杖在手，让两台破旧的桌子飞上天空，在草坪上相互碰撞，都想碰碎对方的桌子。弗来德和乔治在欢呼，金妮在大笑，荷米恩在篱笆周围徘徊，很明显，她在好玩与担心间左右为难。

　　比尔的桌子碰上了查理的桌子，“砰”的一声，一条腿撞得掉了下来。头顶上有人大声说话，他们都仰起头来，伯希已从三楼窗户里探出头来。

　　“你把它弄下来，好吗？”他火吼道。

　　“抱歉，伯希。”比尔对他大笑，“锅底怎么样了？”

　　“真是太糟糕了，”伯希恼怒地说，他又关上了窗子。

　　比尔和查理放声大笑，把桌子安全地放到草坪上，比尔用魔杖轻打了一下，再次把桌腿接上，并用魔法不知从哪里变出了桌布。

　　七点钟，两台桌子上放满了威斯里夫人做得极好的饭菜，九个威斯里家人加上哈利、荷米恩在深蓝色万里无云的天空下吃晚餐。

　　对于一个整个夏天都吃味道不新鲜的蛋糕的孩子来说，这简直是天堂，起先，哈利只是听着别人谈话而没有加入，他正忙着吃鸡蛋火腿馅饼，煮土豆还有沙拉。

　　在桌子的那边，伯希在告诉他父亲关于锅底的报告。

　　“我告诉克劳斯先生我要在周二前搞好它，”伯希得意洋洋地说。“那比他意料的要快一点，我总是要走在前面。我及时完成，他会感激我的，现在这一阵子我们部门特别忙，因为世界杯的各种安排，我们就没有从魔法运动部那里得到我们需要的帮助。露得。

　　巴格蒙——“

　　“我喜欢露得，”威斯里先生柔和地说。“他为我们弄到这样的好票。我也给了他一点恩惠：他的兄弟，奥特，惹了点麻烦，用不正常的动力割草机，我为他把整个事情弄好了。”

　　“噢，巴格蒙是讨人喜欢的人，”伯希很听话地说，“但他怎么会成为部门的头呢？当我把他同克劳斯先生相比，我看，克劳斯先生不会失去我们部门的任何一票。您注意到了珀茜·佐金斯已失踪一个多月了吗？她去了阿尔巴尼亚度假后就再也没回来。”

　　“是的，我刚问过露得，”威斯里先生皱了皱眉头说，“他说珀茜以前已经失踪过好几次了，但如果是我部门里的某一位，我就会担心了。”

　　“噢，珀茜是没有希望了，对吧，”伯希说，“我听说她从一个部门降职到另一个部门，一直有许多麻烦，许多年来都是这样。巴格蒙应该设法找到她。克劳斯先生个人对她产生了兴趣，她一度也在我们部门待过，我想克劳斯先生很喜欢她。然而巴格蒙只是笑她可能看错了地图，去了澳大利亚，而不是阿尔巴尼亚。”伯希长叹一声，“还去找其它部门的成员？光是自己部门的事就已经够多了。

　　您知道，世界杯后，我们要组织另外一件大事。“

　　他清了清嗓子，朝桌子一路看过去，那边哈利、罗恩和荷米恩坐在那里。“您知道我在讲什么，父亲，”他稍微提高了嗓门，“顶级秘密的那件。”

　　罗恩眨眨他的眼睛，对哈利和荷米恩说，“他一直想让我们问他，自从他开始工作后的那件大事。也许是厚底大锅的展览会。”

　　桌子中间，威斯里夫人正与比尔争论耳环的事，好像是近段时间才戴的。

　　“……真的像带了一个可怕的大毒牙，银行里他们怎么说？”

　　“妈妈，只要我给家里带来极大的财富，银行里没有人对我的穿戴说三道四。”比尔耐心地说。

　　“你的头发有点傻乎乎的，亲爱的，”威斯里夫人说，爱抚地用手指摸了摸魔杖，“我希望你让我为你修剪一下……”

　　“我喜欢，”金妮说，她坐在比尔旁边，“您的想法不时髦了，妈妈，换句话说，丹伯多教授也一样。”

　　在威斯里夫人的旁边弗来德、乔治和查理都兴高采烈地谈论世界杯。

　　“肯定是爱尔兰，”查理说，满口土豆。“他们在半决赛中摆平了——秘鲁。”

　　“保加利亚有了维特。克伦。”弗来德说。

　　“克伦是一个像样的选手，但爱尔兰有七个。”查理说，“我希望英国通杀，但那是令人尴尬，那真是……”

　　“什么？”哈利关心地说，对他同巫师世界隔绝，回到了普里怀特街感到非常遗憾，哈利可是很忠心爱国的。

　　“输给了特雷西维尼亚，390比10。”查理不快地说。“令人震惊，威尔士输给了乌干达，苏格兰被卢森堡宰了。”

　　威斯里先生用魔法变出了蜡烛照亮了漆黑的花园，他们还没有吃自制的草毒冰淇淋，待吃完的时候，飞蛾在吧嗒吧嗒地响，飞得低低的，桌子上方到处都是。这湿热空气总是伴有草和忍冬的香味。哈利感觉特别饱，地精在玫瑰丛中疾奔，笑得前仰后合，后面那只克路殊克猫紧追不舍。

　　罗恩抬起头来仔细打量，发现家里的其他人都在忙着讲话，他很小声地对哈利说，“最近你收到了西里斯的信吗？”

　　荷米恩也四周看了看，靠了过来听。

　　“是的，”哈利轻声说，“两次。他说OK，前天我给他写了信，他将写回信到这里。”

　　他突然记起了他给西里斯写信的原因，一时间，差点就要告诉罗恩和荷米恩伤痕疼痛的事，告诉他们惊醒他的可怕的梦，……他不想要他们现在为他担心，而且此时此刻他自己此时此刻也感觉如此开心，如此和平安详，他也不想说这些破坏好的气氛。

　　“看看时间，”威斯里夫人突然说，她看了看手表。“你们真的要睡觉了，你们所有的人，破晓的时候都要起床看世界杯赛，哈利，假如你把学校用品清单给我，明天我就到蒂琼。艾丽去为你办。

　　其他人的我都买好了啦。世界杯开始后恐怕就没有时间买了，上次比赛就进行了五天时间。“

　　“哦，希望这次也一样！”哈利热情地说。

　　“噢，我可不希望那么久，”伯希假装神圣地说。“如果我五天不工作，想想我盘里的将会变成什么样的东西，我简直会发抖。”

　　“是的，有人可能又会在里面放龙屎，伯希？”弗来德说。

　　“还可是从挪威弄来的样品。”伯希说，涨红了脸。

　　“那可不是私货！”

　　“就是。”弗来德悄声对哈利说：“是我们找人寄过来的。”他们边说边从桌上起身。

Chapter 6 The Portkey

Harry felt as though he had barely lain down to steep in Ron's room when he was being shaken awake by Mrs. Weasley.

“Time to go, Harry, dear,” she whispered, moving away to wake Ron.

Harry felt around for his glasses, put them on, and sat up. It was still dark outside. Ron muttered indistinctly as his mother roused him. At the foot of Harry's mattress he saw two large, disheveled shapes emerging from tangles of blankets.

“'S time already?” said Fred groggily.

They dressed in silence, too sleepy to talk, then, yawning and stretching, the four of them headed downstairs into the kitchen.

Mrs. Weasley was stirring the contents of a large pot on the stove, while Mr. Weasley was sitting at the table, checking a sheaf of large parchment tickets. He looked up as the boys entered and spread his arms so that they could see his clothes more clearly. He was wearing what appeared to be a golfing sweater and a very old pair of jeans, slightly too big for him and held up with a thick leather belt.

“What d'you think?” he asked anxiously. “We're supposed to go incognito - do I look like a Muggle, Harry?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, smiling, “very good.”

“Where're Bill and Charlie and Per-Per-Percy?” said George, failing to stifle a huge yawn.

“Well, they're Apparating, aren't they?” said Mrs. Weasley, heaving the large pot over to the table and starting to ladle porridge into bowls. “So they can have a bit of a lie-in.”

Harry knew that Apparating meant disappearing from one place and reappearing almost instantly in another, but had never known any Hogwarts student to do it, and understood that it was very difficult.

“So they're still in bed?” said Fred grumpily, pulling his bowl of porridge toward him. “Why can't we Apparate too?”

“Because you're not of age and you haven't passed your test,” snapped Mrs. Weasley. “And where have those girls got to?”

She bustled out of the kitchen and they heard her climbing the stairs.

“You have to pass a test to Apparate?” Harry asked.

“Oh yes,” said Mr. Weasley, tucking the tickets safely into the back pocket of his jeans. “The Department of Magical Transportation had to fine a couple of people the other day for Apparating without a license. It's not easy, Apparition, and when it's not done property it can lead to nasty complications. This pair I'm talking about went and splinched themselves.”

Everyone around the table except Harry winced.

“Er - splinched?” said Harry.

“They left half of themselves behind,” said Mr. Weasley, now spooning large amounts of treacle onto his porridge. “So, of course, they were stuck. Couldn't move either way. Had to wait for the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad to sort them out. Meant a fair old bit of paperwork, I can tell you, what with the Muggles who spotted the body parts they'd left behind…..”

Harry had a sudden vision of a pair of legs and an eyeball lying abandoned on the pavement of Privet Drive.

“Were they okay?” he asked, startled.

“Oh yes,” said Mr. Weasley matter-of-factly. “But they got a heavy fine, and I don't think they'll be trying it again in a hurry. You don't mess around with Apparition. There are plenty of adult wizards who don't bother with it. Prefer brooms - slower, but safer.”

“But Bill and Charlie and Percy can all do it?”

“Charlie had to take the test twice,” said Fred, grinning. “He failed the first time. Apparated five miles south of where he meant to, right on top of some poor old dear doing her shopping, remember?”

“Yes, well, he passed the second time,” said Mrs. Weasley, marching back into the kitchen amid hearty sniggers.

“Percy only passed two weeks ago,” said George. “He's been Apparating downstairs every morning since, just to prove he can.”

There were footsteps down the passageway and Hermione and Ginny came into the kitchen, both looking pale and drowsy.

“Why do we have to be up so early?” Ginny said, rubbing her eyes and sitting down at the table.

“We've got a bit of a walk,” said Mr. Weasley.

“Walk?” said Harry. “What, are we walking to the World Cup?”

“No, no, that's miles away,” said Mr. Weasley, smiling. “We only need to walk a short way. It's just that it's very difficult for a large number of wizards to congregate without attracting Muggle attention. We have to be very careful about how we travel at the best of times, and on a huge occasion like the Quidditch World Cup…”

“George!” said Mrs. Weasley sharply, and they all jumped.

“What?” said George, in an innocent tone that deceived nobody.

“What is that in your pocket?”

“Nothing!”

“Don't you lie to me!”

Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at George's pocket and said, “Accio!”

Several small, brightly colored objects zoomed out of George's pocket; he made a grab for them but missed, and they sped right into Mrs. Weasley's outstretched hand.

“We told you to destroy them!” said Mrs. Weasley furiously, holding up what were unmistakably more Ton-Tongue Toffees. “We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets, go on, both of you!”

It was an unpleasant scene; the twins had evidently been trying to smuggle as many toffees out of the house as possible, and it was only by using her Summoning Charm that Mrs. Weasley managed to find them all.

“Accio! Accio! Accio!” she shouted, and toffees zoomed from all sorts of unlikely places, including the lining of George's jacket and the turn-ups of Fred's jeans.

“We spent six months developing those!” Fred shouted at his mother as she threw the toffees away.

“Oh a fine way to spend six months!” she shrieked. “No wonder you didn't get more O.W.L.s!”

All in all, the atmosphere was not very friendly as they took their departure. Mrs. Weasley was still glowering as she kissed Mr. Weasley on the cheek, though not nearly as much as the twins, who had each hoisted their rucksacks onto their backs and walked out without a word to her.

“Well, have a lovely time,” said Mrs. Weasley, “and behave yourselves,” she called after the twins’ retreating backs, but they did not look back or answer. “I'll send Bill, Charlie, and Percy along around midday,” Mrs. Weasley said to Mr. Weasley, as he, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny set off across the dark yard after Fred and George.

It was chilly and the moon was still out. Only a dull, greenish tinge along the horizon to their right showed that daybreak was drawing closer. Harry, having been thinking about thousands of wizards speeding toward the Quidditch World Cup, sped up to walk with Mr. Weasley.

“So how does everyone get there without all the Muggles noticing?” he asked.

“It's been a massive organizational problem,” sighed Mr. Weasley. “The trouble is, about a hundred thousand wizards turn up at the World Cup, and of course, we just haven't got a magical site big enough to accommodate them all. There are places Muggles can't penetrate, but imagine trying to pack a hundred thousand wizards into Diagon Alley or platform nine and three-quarters. So we had to find a nice deserted moor, and set up as many anti-Muggle precautions as possible. The whole Ministry's been working on it for months. First, of course, we have to stagger the arrivals. People with cheaper tickets have to arrive two weeks beforehand. A limited number use Muggle transport, but we can't have too many clogging up their buses and trains - remember, wizards are coming from all over the world. Some Apparate, of course, but we have to set up safe points for them to appear, well away from Muggles. I believe there's a handy wood they're using as the Apparition point. For those who don't want to Apparate, or can't, we use Portkeys. They're objects that are used to transport wizards from one spot to another at a prearranged time. You can do large groups at a time if you need to. There have been two hundred Portkeys placed at strategic points around Britain, and the nearest one to us is up at the top of Stoatshead Hill, so that's where we're headed.”

Mr. Weasley pointed ahead of them, where a large black mass rose beyond the village of Ottery St. Catchpole.

“What sort of objects are Portkeys?” said Harry curiously.

“Well, they can be anything,” said Mr. Weasley. “Unobtrusive things, obviously, so Muggles don't go picking them up and playing with them…stuff they'll just think is litter….”

They trudged down the dark, dank lane toward the village, the silence broken only by their footsteps. The sky lightened very slowly as they made their way through the village, its inky blackness diluting to deepest blue. Harry's hands and feet were freezing. Mr. Weasley kept checking his watch.

They didn't have breath to spare for talking as they began to climb Stoatshead Hill, stumbling occasionally in hidden rabbit holes, slipping on thick black tuffets of grass. Each breath Harry took was sharp in his chest and his legs were starting to seize up when, at last, his feet found level ground.

“Whew,” panted Mr. Weasley, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his sweater. “Well, we've made good time - we've got ten minutes.”

Hermione came over the crest of the hill last, clutching a stitch in her side.

“Now we just need the Portkey,” said Mr. Weasley, replacing his glasses and squinting around at the ground. “It won't be big….Come on…”

They spread out, searching. They had only been at it for a couple of minutes, however, when a shout rent the still air.

“Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it.”

Two tall figures were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop.

“Amos!” said Mr. Weasley, smiling as he strode over to the man who had shouted. The rest of them followed.

Mr. Weasley was shaking hands with a ruddy-faced wizard with a scrubby brown beard, who was holding a moldy-looking old boot in his other hand.

“This is Amos Diggory, everyone,” said Mr. Weasley. “He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?”

Cedric Diggory was an extremely handsome boy of around seventeen. He was Captain and Seeker of the Hufflepuff House Quidditch team at Hogwarts.

“Hi,” said Cedric, looking around at them all.

Everybody said hi back except Fred and George, who merely nodded. They had never quite forgiven Cedric for beating their team, Gryffindor, in the first Quidditch match of the previous year.

“Long walk, Arthur?” Cedric's father asked. “Not too bad,” said Mr. Weasley. “We live just on the other side of the village there. You?”

“Had to get up at two, didn't we, Ced? I tell you, I'll be glad when he's got his Apparition test. Still…not complaining…Quidditch World Cup, wouldn't miss it for a sackful of Galleons - and the tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy.…” Amos Diggory peered good-naturedly around at the three Weasley boys, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny. “All these yours, Arthur?”

“Oh no, only the redheads,” said Mr. Weasley, pointing out his children. “This is Hermione, friend of Ron's - and Harry, another friend -”

“Merlin's beard,” said Amos Diggory, his eyes widening. “Harry? Harry Potter?”

“Er - yeah,” said Harry.

Harry was used to people looking curiously at him when they met him, used to the way their eyes moved at once to the lightning scar on his forehead, but it always made him feel uncomfortable.

“Ced's talked about you, of course,” said Amos Diggory. “Told us all about playing against you last year…I said to him, I said - Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will….You beat Harry Potter!”

Harry couldn't think of any reply to this, so he remained silent. Fred and George were both scowling again. Cedric looked slightly embarrassed.

“Harry fell off his broom, Dad,” he muttered. I told you…it was an accident….”

“Yes, but you didn't fall off, did you?” roared Amos genially, slapping his son on his back. “Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman…but the best man won, I'm sure Harry'd say the same, wouldn't you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don't need to be a genius to tell which one's the better flier!”

“Must be nearly time,” said Mr. Weasley quickly, pulling out his watch again. “Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?”

“No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets,” said Mr. Diggory. “There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?”

“Not that I know of,” said Mr. Weasley. “Yes, it's a minute off…We'd better get ready….”

He looked around at Harry and Hermione.

“You just need to touch the Portkey, that's all, a finger will do -”

With difficulty, owing to their bulky backpacks, the nine of them crowded around the old boot held out by Amos Diggory.

They all stood there, in a tight circle, as a chill breeze swept over the hilltop. Nobody spoke. It suddenly occurred to Harry how odd this would look if a Muggle were to walk up here now…nine people, two of them grown men, clutching this manky old boot in the semidarkness, waiting….

“Three…” muttered Mr. Weasley, one eye still on his watch, two…one…”

It happened immediately: Harry felt as though a hook just behind his navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. His feet left the ground; he could feel Ron and Hermione on either side of him, their shoulders banging into his; they were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color; his forefinger was stuck to the boot as though it was pulling him magnetically onward and then -

His feet slammed into the ground; Ron staggered into him and he fell over; the Portkey hit the ground near his head with a heavy thud.

Harry looked up. Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, and Cedric were still standing, though looking very windswept; everybody else was on the ground.

“Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill,” said a voice.

当哈利被威斯里太太摇醒时，他觉得他几乎没有在罗恩的房间睡着似的。

　　“亲爱的哈利，该走了。”她小声说完后就走开去叫罗恩起床了。

　　哈利到处摸索着找他的眼镜，找到后戴上并坐了起来。外面仍然很黑，当他妈妈叫醒他时，罗恩含糊地抱怨。在哈利的床角，他看到两个大大的，凌乱的东西从毛毯边冒了出来。

　　“时间到了吗？”佛来德摇摇摆摆地问。

　　他们安静地一边穿好衣服，一边打着阿吹。因为大家都太困了，都不想说话。然后他们一行四人沿着楼梯走进了厨房。

　　威斯里太太正在搅拌着火炉上的大锅，而威斯里先生坐在桌子边，看着一叠很大的羊皮纸做成的票子。当男孩们进来时，他抬起头，张开他的双臂。这样，他们能更清楚地观察他的衣服。他穿着一件适于打高尔夫球的衬衣，一条很旧的牛仔裤，而且那条牛仔裤有点大，他得束上一条牛皮皮带才能勒紧裤头。

　　“怎么样？”他紧张地问：“我们得隐姓埋名，哈利，你觉得我看起来像个马格吗？”

　　“比尔、查理和伯希去哪里了？”乔治问，打了个大大的呵吹。

　　“他们会移身术，对吧？”威斯里太太过说边把那个大锅放在桌子上，开始往碗里倒粥。“这样他们就能睡懒觉。”

　　哈利知道移身术是很难的，那意味着从一个地方消失，然后马上出现在另一个地方。

　　“那么他们还在床上喽。”说：“为什么我们不会移身术呢？”

　　“因为你还没到那年龄，而且你还没通过考试。”威斯里太太打断地，“那些女孩们都去哪里了？”

　　她冲出厨房，然后传来爬楼梯的声音。

　　“学会移身术必须通过考试吗？”哈利问。

　　“噢，是的，”威斯里先生说，并小心翼翼地把票放进他牛仔裤后面的裤袋子里。“一些人几天前被魔法交通部罚款，因为他们用了移身术却又没有执照。移身术是不简单的，如果做得不好的话，会导致很严重的后果。我所说的那两个人就因为这样，最后把自己分成了两半。”

　　除了哈利以外，桌子周围的每个人都打了个冷颤。

　　“呃。被分开了？”哈利问。

　　“他们把自己的一半留在原处了，”说着，威斯里先生舀了一大勺的糖浆放进稀饭中。“所以，当然，他们现在被困住了，哪边都动不了，只有