Chapter 13 Mad-eye Moody

The storm had blown itself out by the following morning, though the ceiling in the Great Hall was still gloomy; heavy clouds of pewter gray swirled overhead as Harry, Ron, and Hermione examined their new course schedules at breakfast. A few seats along, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were discussing magical methods of aging themselves and bluffing their way into the Triwizard Tournament.

“Today's not bad…outside all morning,” said Ron, who was running his finger down the Monday column of his schedule. “Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Care of Magical Creatures…damn it, we're still with the Slytherins….”

“Double Divination this afternoon,” Harry groaned, looking down. Divination was his least favorite subject, apart from Potions. Professor Trelawney kept predicting Harry's death, which he found extremely annoying.

“You should have given it up like me, shouldn't you?” said Hermione briskly, buttering herself some toast. “Then you'd be doing something sensible like Arithmancy.”

“You're eating again, I notice,” said Ron, watching Hermione adding liberal amounts of jam to her toast too.

“I've decided there are better ways of making a stand about elf rights,” said Hermione haughtily.

“Yeah…and you were hungry,” said Ron, grinning.

There was a sudden rustling noise above them, and a hundred owls came soaring through the open windows carrying the morning mail. Instinctively, Harry looked up, but there was no sign of white among the mass of brown and gray. The owls circled the tables, looking for the people to whom their letters and packages were addressed. A large tawny owl soared down to Neville Longbottom and deposited a parcel into his lap - Neville almost always forgot to pack something. On the other side of the Hall Draco Malfoy's eagle owl had landed on his shoulder, carrying what looked like his usual supply of sweets and cakes from home. Trying to ignore the sinking feeling of disappointment in his stomach, Harry returned to his porridge. Was it possible that something had happened to Hedwig, and that Sirius hadn't even got his letter?

His preoccupation lasted all the way across the sodden vegetable patch until they arrived in greenhouse three, but here he was distracted by Professor Sprout showing the class the ugliest plants Harry had ever seen. Indeed, they looked less like plants than thick, black, giant slugs, protruding vertically out of the soil. Each was squirming slightly and had a number of large, shiny swellings upon it, which appeared to be full of liquid.

“Bubotubers,” Professor Sprout told them briskly. “They need squeezing. You will collect the pus -”

“The what?” said Seamus Finnigan, sounding revolted.

“Pus, Finnigan, pus,” said Professor Sprout, “and it's extremely valuable, so don't waste it. You will collect the pus, I say, in these bottles. Wear your dragon-hide gloves; it can do funny things to the skin when undiluted, bubotuber pus.”

Squeezing the bubotubers was disgusting, but oddly satisfying. As each swelling was popped, a large amount of thick yellowish-green liquid burst forth, which smelled strongly of petrol. They caught it in the bottles as Professor Sprout had indicated, and by the end of the lesson had collected several pints.

“This'll keep Madam Pomfrey happy,” said Professor Sprout, stoppering the last bottle with a cork. “An excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of acne, bubotuber pus. Should stop students resorting to desperate measures to rid themselves of pimples.”

“Like poor Eloise Midgen,” said Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff, in a hushed voice. “She tried to curse hers off.”

“Silly girl,” said Professor Sprout, shaking her head. “But Madam Pomfrey fixed her nose back on in the end.”

A booming bell echoed from the castle across the wet grounds, signaling the end of the lesson, and the class separated; the Hufflepuffs climbing the stone steps for Transfiguration, and the Gryffindors heading in the other direction, down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid's small wooden cabin, which stood on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Hagrid was standing outside his hut, one hand on the collar of his enormous black boarhound, Fang. There were several open wooden crates on the ground at his feet, and Fang was whimpering and straining at his collar, apparently keen to investigate the contents more closely. As they drew nearer, an odd rattling noise reached their ears, punctuated by what sounded like minor explosions.

“Mornin'!” Hagrid said, grinning at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “Be'er wait fer the Slytherins, they won’ want ter miss this - Blast-Ended Skrewts!”

“Come again?” said Ron.

Hagrid pointed down into the crates.

“Eurgh!” squealed Lavender Brown, jumping backward.

“Eurgh” just about summed up the Blast-Ended Skrewts in Harry's opinion. They looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters, horribly pale and slimy-looking, with legs sticking out in very odd places and no visible heads. There were about a hundred of them in each crate, each about six inches long, crawling over one another, bumping blindly into the sides of the boxes. They were giving off a very powerful smell of rotting fish. Every now and then, sparks would fly out of the end of a skrewt, and with a small phut, it would be propelled forward several inches.

“On'y jus’ hatched,” said Hagrid proudly, “so yeh'll be able ter raise ‘em yerselves! Thought we'd make a bit of a project of it!”

“And why would we want to raise them?” said a cold voice.

The Slytherins had arrived. The speaker was Draco Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were chuckling appreciatively at his words.

Hagrid looked stumped at the question.

“I mean, what do they do?” asked Malfoy. “What is the point of them?”

Hagrid opened his mouth, apparently thinking hard; there was a few seconds’ pause, then he said roughly, “Tha's next lesson, Malfoy. Yer jus’ feedin’ ‘em today. Now, yeh'll wan’ ter try ‘em on a few diff'rent things - I've never had ‘em before, not sure what they'll go fer - I got ant eggs an’ frog livers an’ a bit o’ grass snake - just try ‘em out with a bit of each.”

“First pus and now this,” muttered Seamus.

Nothing but deep affection for Hagrid could have made Harry, Ron, and Hermione pick up squelchy handfuls of frog liver and lower them into the crates to tempt the Blast-Ended Skrewts. Harry couldn't suppress the suspicion that the whole thing was entirely pointless, because the skrewts didn't seem to have mouths.

“Ouch!” yelled Dean Thomas after about ten minutes. “It got me.”

Hagrid hurried over to him, looking anxious.

“Its end exploded!” said Dean angrily, showing Hagrid a burn on his hand.

“Ah, yeah, that can happen when they blast off,” said Hagrid, nodding.

“Eurgh!” said Lavender Brown again. “Eurgh, Hagrid, what's that pointy thing on it?”

“Ah, some of ‘em have got stings,” said Hagrid enthusiastically (Lavender quickly withdrew her hand from the box). “I reckon they're the males.…The females've got sorta sucker things on their bellies….I think they might be ter suck blood.”

“Well, I can certainly see why we're trying to keep them alive,” said Malfoy sarcastically. “Who wouldn't want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?”

“Just because they're not very pretty, it doesn't mean they're not useful,” Hermione snapped. “Dragon blood's amazingly magical, but you wouldn't want a dragon for a pet, would you?”

Harry and Ron grinned at Hagrid, who gave them a furtive smile from behind his bushy beard. Hagrid would have liked nothing better than a pet dragon, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew only too well - he had owned one for a brief period during their first year, a vicious Norwegian Ridgeback by the name of Norbert. Hagrid simply loved monstrous creatures, the more lethal, the better.

“Well, at least the skrewts are small,” said Ron as they made their way back up to the castle for lunch an hour later.

“They are now,” said Hermione in an exasperated voice, “but once Hagrid's found out what they eat, I expect they'll be six feet long.”

“Well, that won't matter if they turn out to cure seasickness or something, will it?” said Ron, grinning slyly at her.

“You know perfectly well I only said that to shut Malfoy up,” said Hermione. “As a matter of fact I think he's right. The best thing to do would be to stamp on the lot of them before they start attacking us all.”

They sat down at the Gryffindor table and helped themselves to lamb chops and potatoes. Hermione began to eat so fast that Harry and Ron stared at her.

“Er - is this the new stand on elf rights?” said Ron. “You're going to make yourself puke instead?”

“No,” said Hermione, with as much dignity as she could muster with her mouth bulging with sprouts. “I just want to get to the library.”

“What?” said Ron in disbelief. “Hermione - it's the first day back! We haven't even got homework yet!”

Hermione shrugged and continued to shovel down her food as though she had not eaten for days. Then she leapt to her feet, said, “See you at dinner!” and departed at high speed.

When the bell rang to signal the start of afternoon lessons, Harry and Ron set off for North Tower where, at the top of a tightly spiraling staircase, a silver stepladder led to a circular trapdoor in the ceiling, and the room where Professor Trelawney lived.

The familiar sweet perfume spreading from the fire met their nostrils as they emerged at the top of the stepladder. As ever, the curtains were all closed; the circular room was bathed in a dim reddish light cast by the many lamps, which were all draped with scarves and shawls. Harry and Ron walked through the mass of occupied chintz chairs and poufs that cluttered the room, and sat down at the same small circular table.

“Good day,” said the misty voice of Professor Trelawney right behind Harry, making him jump.

A very thin woman with enormous glasses that made her eyes appear far too large for her face, Professor Trelawney was peering down at Harry with the tragic expression she always wore whenever she saw him. The usual large amount of beads, chains, and bangles glittered upon her person in the firelight.

“You are preoccupied, my dear,” she said mournfully to Harry. “My inner eye sees past your brave face to the troubled soul within. And I regret to say that your worries are not baseless. I see difficult times ahead for you, alas…most difficult…I fear the thing you dread will indeed come to pass.…and perhaps sooner than you think…”

Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, who looked stonily back. Professor Trelawney swept past them and seated herself in a large winged armchair before the fire, facing the class. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who deeply admired Professor Trelawney, were sitting on poufs very close to her.

“My dears, it is time for us to consider the stars,” she said. “The movements of the planets and the mysterious portents they reveal only to those who understand the steps of the celestial dance. Human destiny may be deciphered by the planetary rays, which intermingle.…”

But Harry's thoughts had drifted. The perfumed fire always made him feel sleepy and dull-witted, and Professor Trelawney's rambling talks on fortune-telling never held him exactly spellbound - though he couldn't help thinking about what she had just said to him. “I fear the thing you dread will indeed come to pass…”

But Hermione was right, Harry thought irritably, Professor Trelawney really was an old fraud. He wasn't dreading anything at the moment at all…well, unless you counted his fears that Sirius had been caught…but what did Professor Trelawney know? He had long since come to the conclusion that her brand of fortunetelling was really no more than lucky guesswork and a spooky manner.

Except, of course, for that time at the end of last term, when she had made the prediction about Voldemort rising again…and Dumbledore himself had said that he thought that trance had been genuine, when Harry had described it to him.

“Harry!” Ron muttered.

“What?”

Harry looked around; the whole class was staring at him. He sat up straight; he had been almost dozing off, lost in the heat and his thoughts.

“I was saying, my dear, that you were clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn,” said Professor Trelawney, a faint note of resentment in her voice at the fact that he had obviously not been hanging on her words.

“Born under - what, sorry?” said Harry.

“Saturn, dear, the planet Saturn!” said Professor Trelawney, sounding definitely irritated that he wasn't riveted by this news. “I was saying that Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth.…Your dark hair…your mean stature…tragic losses so young in life…I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in midwinter?”

“No,” said Harry, “I was born in July.”

Ron hastily turned his laugh into a hacking cough.

Half an hour later, each of them had been given a complicated circular chart, and was attempting to fill in the position of the planets at their moment of birth. It was dull work, requiring much consultation of timetables and calculation of angles.

“I've got two Neptunes here,” said Harry after a while, frowning down at his piece of parchment, “that can't be right, can it?”

“Aaaaah,” said Ron, imitating Professor Trelawney's mystical whisper, “when two Neptunes appear in the sky, it is a sure sign that a midget in glasses is being born, Harry….”

Seamus and Dean, who were working nearby, sniggered loudly, though not loudly enough to mask the excited squeals from Lavender Brown - “Oh Professor, look! I think I've got an unaspected planet! Oooh, which one's that, Professor?”

“It is Uranus, my dear,” said Professor Trelawney, peering down at the chart.

“Can I have a look at Uranus too, Lavender?” said Ron.

Most unfortunately, Professor Trelawney heard him, and it was this, perhaps, that made her give them so much homework at the end of the class.

“A detailed analysis of the way the planetary movements in the coming month will affect you, with reference to your personal chart,” she snapped, sounding much more like Professor McGonagall than her usual airy-fairy self. “I want it ready to hand in next Monday, and no excuses!”

“Miserable old bat,” said Ron bitterly as they joined the crowds descending the staircases back to the Great Hall and dinner. “That'll take all weekend, that will…”

“Lots of homework?” said Hermione brightly, catching up with them. “Professor Vector didn't give us any at all!”

“Well, bully for Professor Vector,” said Ron moodily.

They reached the entrance hall, which was packed with people queuing for dinner. They had just joined the end of the line, when a loud voice rang out behind them.

“Weasley! Hey, Weasley!”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing there, each looking thoroughly pleased about something.

“What?” said Ron shortly.

“Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!” said Malfoy, brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet and speaking very loudly, so that everyone in the packed entrance hall could hear. “Listen to this!

FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC
It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.”
Malfoy looked up.

“Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?” he crowed.

Everyone in the entrance hall was listening now. Malfoy straightened the paper with a flourish and read on:

Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of “Mad-Eye” Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.
“And there's a picture, Weasley!” said Malfoy, flipping the paper over and holding it up. “A picture of your parents outside their house - if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?”

Ron was shaking with fury. Everyone was staring at him.

“Get stuffed, Malfoy,” said Harry. “C'mon, Ron…”

“Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?” sneered Malfoy. “So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?”

“You know your mother, Malfoy?” said Harry - both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron's robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy - “that expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?”

Malfoy's pale face went slightly pink.

“Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter.”

“Keep your fat mouth shut, then,” said Harry, turning away.

BANG!

Several people screamed - Harry felt something white-hot graze the side of his face - he plunged his hand into his robes for his wand, but before he'd even touched it, he heard a second loud BANG, and a roar that echoed through the entrance hall.

“OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!”

Harry spun around. Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Malfoy had been standing.

There was a terrified silence in the entrance hall. Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. Moody turned to look at Harry - at least, his normal eye was looking at Harry; the other one was pointing into the back of his head.

“Did he get you?” Moody growled. His voice was low and gravelly.

“No,” said Harry, “missed.”

“LEAVE IT!” Moody shouted.

“Leave - what?” Harry said, bewildered.

“Not you - him!” Moody growled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Crabbe, who had just frozen, about to pick up the white ferret. It seemed that Moody's rolling eye was magical and could see out of the back of his head.

Moody started to limp toward Crabbe, Goyle, and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking toward the dungeons.

“I don't think so!” roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again - it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.

“I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned,” growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. “Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…”

The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly.

“Never - do - that - again -” said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.

“Professor Moody!” said a shocked voice.

Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books.

“Hello, Professor McGonagall,” said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.

“What - what are you doing?” said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret's progress through the air.

“Teaching,” said Moody.

“Teach - Moody, is that a student?” shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.

“Yep,” said Moody.

“No!” cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing.

“Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!” said Professor McGonagall wealdy. “Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?”

“He might've mentioned it, yeah,” said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, “but I thought a good sharp shock -”

“We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!”

“I'll do that, then,” said Moody, staring at Malfoy with great dislike.

Malfoy, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, looked malevolently up at Moody and muttered something in which the words “my father” were distinguishable.

“Oh yeah?” said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, the dull clunk of his wooden leg echoing around the hall. “Well, I know your father of old, boy.…You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son…you tell him that from me.…Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?”

“Yes,” said Malfoy resentfully.

“Another old friend,” growled Moody. “I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape.…Come on, you…”

And he seized Malfoy's upper arm and marched him off toward the dungeons.

Professor McGonagall stared anxiously after them for a few moments, then waved her wand at her fallen books, causing them to soar up into the air and back into her arms.

“Don't talk to me,” Ron said quietly to Harry and Hermione as they sat down at the Gryffindor table a few minutes later, surrounded by excited talk on all sides about what had just happened.

“Why not?” said Hermione in surprise.

“Because I want to fix that in my memory forever,” said Ron, his eyes closed and an uplifted expression on his face. “Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret.”

Harry and Hermione both laughed, and Hermione began doling beef casserole onto each of their plates.

“He could have really hurt Malfoy, though,” she said. “It was good, really, that Professor McGonagall stopped it -”

“Hermione!” said Ron furiously, his eyes snapping open again, “you're ruining the best moment of my life!”

Hermione made an impatient noise and began to eat at top speed again.

“Don't tell me you're going back to the library this evening?” said Harry, watching her.

“Got to,” said Hermione thickly. “Loads to do.”

“But you told us Professor Vector -”

“It's not schoolwork,” she said. Within five minutes, she had cleared her plate and departed. No sooner had she gone than her seat was taken by Fred Weasley.

“Moody!” he said. “How cool is he?”

“Beyond cool,” said George, sitting down opposite Fred.

“Supercool,” said the twins’ best friend, Lee Jordan, sliding into the seat beside George. “We had him this afternoon,” he told Harry and Ron.

“What was it like?” said Harry eagerly.

Fred, George, and Lee exchanged looks full of meaning.

“Never had a lesson like it,” said Fred.

“He knows, man,” said Lee.

“Knows what?” said Ron, leaning forward.

“Knows what it's like to be out there doing it,” said George impressively.

“Doing what?” said Harry.

“Fighting the Dark Arts,” said Fred.

“He's seen it all,” said George.

“'Mazing,” said Lee.

Ron dived into his bag for his schedule.

“We haven't got him till Thursday!” he said in a disappointed voice.

第二天早上暴风雨终于过去了，尽管大礼堂的屋顶还是很幽暗，沉重的铅灰色的云还在头顶盘旋。哈利、罗恩和荷米恩在吃早饭的时候检查了一遍他们的新课程表。隔了几个座位，弗来德、乔治和李·乔丹正在讨论怎样用魔法使他们自己变老并且混入那场三人巫术比赛。

　　“今天天气不错……整个早上外头都很好，”罗恩说道，他的手指正在课程表的星期一那一栏上划动，“草药学和喷火术，还有魔法变出小动物……见鬼，我们还是和史林德林在一起上课……”

　　“今天下午是双重占卜术课。”哈利叹息着说，看着这一栏的下面，除了调制巫药，占卜术就是哈利最不喜欢的科目。特雷络尼教授老是在预言哈利的死期，这使得他极度讨厌。

　　“你应该像我一样放弃这一科，对不对？”荷米恩轻快地说，一边在她的吐司上抹黄油，“然后做一些明智的事情，比如说数字占卜法”。

　　“我注意到你又在吃了。”罗恩说，一边看着荷米恩在她抹了黄油的吐司上又涂上大量的果酱。

　　“我认为有更好的办法来维护我们小精灵的权利。”荷米恩十分骄傲地说道。

　　“你说得对……而且你很饿。”罗恩微笑着说。

　　他们的头顶突然响起一阵沙沙声，一百多只猫头鹰穿过开着的窗户飞了进来，带来了早上的信件。哈利本能地抬头去看，但却没有在那堆褐色和灰色的猫头鹰中看到他自己那只白猫头鹰的影子。

　　那些猫头鹰在桌边绕围，寻找这些邮件和包裹的主人。一只黄褐色的大猫头鹰飞向尼维尔并在他膝上放下一个包裹——尼维尔总是忘记把东西包起来。在礼堂的另一边，马尔夫的猫头鹰停在他的肩头上，带来的东西一看就觉得是和往常一样：家里寄来的糖果和蛋糕。为了消除胃里由于失望而引起的下沉感，哈利回到座位上继续喝麦片粥。是不是海维出了什么事，以至西里斯至今还没有收到他的信？

　　在他们穿过湿漉漉的菜地间的小路走到第三温室去的路上，哈利一直想着这些事情。但当史包特教授，在温室里向全班同学显示一种植物——哈利所见过的植物中最丑陋的一种时，他却被这种东西吸引住了，不再去想信件的事。实际上，这种植物看起来不像植物，倒更像许多大且黑的蛞蝓从土壤中径直地伸出来，每只都有点轻微扭动变形，上面长满大且发亮的肿块，里面看起来充满了液体。

　　“布波鸠伯斯（这种怪植物的名称），”史包特教授轻快地告诉他们。“得把它们榨了，然后你们收集那些脓液——”

　　“收集什么？”谢默斯。芬尼更抗议似的说。

　　“脓液，芬尼更，我是说收集脓液，”史包特教授说：“这些脓液相当有用，别浪费掉。你们要把脓液收集在这些瓶子里。戴上你们的龙皮手套。如果在没有稀释之前沾到皮肤，可能会发生古怪的反应。”

　　榨布波鸠伯斯的工作让人觉得恶心，但却出奇地顺利。携带着浓烈的汽油味。他们按照史包特教授的指示把脓液装入瓶子里。下课时，他们总共收集了好几品脱的脓液。

　　“这会使女士高兴，”史包特教授说，同时将最后一个瓶子用软木塞塞好。“布波鸠伯斯的脓液是治疗顽固粉刺的特效药，必须阻止学生们再用竭斯底里的方法去除粉刺了。”

　　“比如可怜的艾罗丝。米德根，”汉娜。艾伯特用一种平静的语气说，他是学喷火术的。“她企图用咒语去除粉刺。”

　　“促姑娘，”史包特教授摇摇头说，“但波姆弗雷女士后来竟把鼻子钉起来。”

　　一阵隆隆的铃声在城堡的湿漉漉的地上回响，带给大家下课的讯息。于是同学们各自散去，学喷火术的踏上石阶去上变身术课，学驯狮鹰兽的格林芬顿则朝另一个方向走去下了斜斜的草坪，向哈格力的小木屋走去，那是间建在弗里比顿森林边上的小木屋。

　　哈格力站在他的木屋外，一只手牵着他那只大黑猫犬——“弗兰”的项圈。他的脚边有几只打开的木箱，‘佛兰“一边猎猎的叫，一边拉扯扭着项圈，显然很想走近箱子去看看里面有什么。当同学们走近时，一阵奇怪的嘈杂声传入他们的耳中，像是一些小炸弹发出的。

　　“早上好！”哈格力笑着对哈利、罗恩和荷米恩说。“我们等一等史林德林班的吧，”他们不想让她错过这个——尾巴会冒火星的史库特斯。

　　“又来了？”罗恩问。

　　哈格力指了指脚边的木箱。

　　“尤尔夫！”荣文登。布朗尖叫着向后跳了一步。

　　在哈利看来，尤尔夫是对尾巴会冒火星的史库斯的最好概括。

　　它们看起来是变了形的、没有亮的龙虾，颜色惨白且污秽，在奇怪的地方伸出很多脚来，却看不到它们的头。每箱大约有一百只这种东西，每只大约有六英寸长，爬在彼此的身上，或瞎撞到箱壁上。

　　它们发出一种很浓的腐鱼臭味。它们的尾巴会不时地伴随啪的一声冒出一阵火花来，同时身体向前推进几英寸。

　　“刚刚孵化出来的，”哈格力自豪地说，“因此你们可以自己饲养他们。不过我们得先定个计划。”

　　“我们为什么会想养这些东西呢？”一个冷冷的声音说。

　　史林德林班的到了。刚才说话的是杰高。马尔夫，而克来伯和高尔在一旁赞成地咯咯笑。

　　哈格力对这个问题感到为难。

　　“我是说，它们是干什么用的？”马尔夫问道：“我们养它们有什么用？”

　　哈格力张开嘴巴却停了几秒钟，显然在艰难地恩索，而后他冷冷地说：“那是下节课的内容，你们今天只须喂养它们。现在，你们试一试喂它们吃不同的东西——我以前也没有养过这种东西，不知道他们吃什么——我准备了一些蚂蚁蛋、青蛙肝和一些草蛇，每样给它们试一点。”

　　“先是脓液，再是这东西。”谢默斯咕哝道。

　　是对哈格力深深的爱戴使哈利、罗恩和荷米恩默默地捧起一杯青蛙肝并放入木箱中去诱那些尾巴会冒火星的史库斯。哈利忍不住认为这样做毫无意义，因为那些史库特斯看起来没有嘴。

　　“哎哟！”过了十分钟后，迪恩。托马斯大叫。“它伤到我了。”

　　哈格力赶紧走到他身边，神情焦虑。

　　“他的尾巴冒火星了！”迪恩一边生气地说一边将被灼伤的手伸给哈格力看。

　　“啊，是的，它们冒火星时会伤人。”哈格力点头说。

　　“尤尔夫！”莱文登。布朗又说，“尤尔夫，哈格力，它身上尖尖的东西是什么？”

　　“哦，有些身上有螫，”哈格力兴奋地说。莱文登赶快将手从箱中抽回来。“我原以为都是雄性的——雌性的腹上长有类似吸管的螫……我想是用来吸血的。”

　　“哦，我知道我们养这些东西是做什么用，”马尔夫讽刺地说：“谁不想拥有一只会烧伤、刺伤又会咬伤人的宠物？”

　　“只是因为它们样貌不佳，但这不说明它们没用，”荷米恩打断他的话，“龙血有惊人的魔力，但你却不会想要一只龙作宠物，对不对？”

　　哈利和罗恩对着哈格力咧开嘴笑，而哈格力则报之狡黠的微笑。正如哈利、罗恩和荷米恩所清楚的那样，没有什么东西能比一只宠物龙更让哈格力喜欢——在他们还是这所学校的一年级生时，哈格力曾在一段短时期内拥有一只龙，一只邪恶的挪威山脊背龙。

　　哈格力只喜欢恐怖的生物——越能致人死命越好。

　　“至少那些史库斯是小生物。”一小时后他们回到城堡里吃午餐时，罗恩如是说。

　　“它们只是现在小而已，”荷米恩声音显示她像被激怒了，“一旦哈格力不断给它们东西吃，它们就会长到六英尺长。”

　　“有什么关系呢？如同我们发现它们能用来治晕船的话，对吗？”罗恩俏皮地朝她笑了笑。

　　“你当然知道我那样说只是为了让马尔夫闭嘴，”荷米恩说，“老实说我认为他是对的。我们最应该做的事就是趁它们还没长到能攻击我们之前将它们全部踩扁。”

　　他们坐在驯狮鹰兽者的桌子边开始吃羊肉和马铃薯。荷米恩吃得很快，以致哈利和罗恩都盯着她看。

　　“哦——这就是维护小精灵权利的新方法吗？”罗恩说，“你是不是想使自己呕吐？”

　　“不，”荷米恩说，她的嘴因为塞满芽菜而胀鼓鼓的，却拼命想使自己显得很尊贵，“我只是想去图书馆。”

　　“什么？”罗恩不相信自己听到的话。“荷米恩——今天才是开学第一天，我们还没有作业要做！”

　　荷米恩耸耸肩，又继续狂吃食物，就像她已经几天没吃过饭了似的。然后她跳起身来说：“晚餐再见！”然后以快速离席而去。

　　下午的上课铃响的时候，哈利和罗恩出发去北塔，那是间处于螺旋形楼梯的顶部的房间，房里有架银梯，通向天花板上的扇圆形活板门。特雷络尼教授就住在里面。

　　当他们来到楼梯顶的时候，一阵熟悉的香气飘入他们的鼻。像往常一样，门上挂着帘子，圆形的房间沐浴在几盏灯的昏暗而微红的光线中，房里挂满了披肩和围巾。哈利和罗恩穿过那些已有人坐了的椅子和坐垫，然后他们坐在同一张圆桌边。

　　“日安，”特雷络尼教授的大嗓门从哈利的背后响起，吓了他一大跳。

　　特雷络尼教授是个戴着副巨大无比的眼镜、瘦极了的女人，那副眼镜使得她的眼睛看起来大得与她的脸不成比例。她又在以一贯的那种悲惨的神情凝视着哈利。在炉火发出的光里，她身上戴的珠子。项链和镯子闪闪发光。

　　“你很专心，亲爱的，”她用忧伤的语气对哈利说，“我心中的眼睛穿透了你勇敢的面孔，看到了你内心的烦恼。很遗憾，我必须告诉你：你的忧虑不是毫无根据的。我看见你前面的艰难岁月了，哎呀……非常的艰难……恐怕你一直害怕的事情会真的到来……，还有可能来得比你预料中早。”

　　她说话的声音越来越低，到后来几乎成了耳语。罗恩的眼光在哈利身上转来转去，哈利却看起来面无表情。特雷络尼教授的眼光将他们全部扫视了一遍，然后在火炉边的太师椅上坐了下来，看着全班同学。那两个非常钦佩特雷络尼教授的学生——莱文登。布朗和帕维提。帕提，坐在离她很近的坐垫上。

　　“亲爱的，我们该讨论一下星星了，”她说。“讨论一下它们那些只为理解了神的舞步的人所能洞察的行星运动和神秘的凶兆。人类的命运可以用行星的射线来解释，这些射线是混合的……”

　　可是哈利走神了。那散发着香气的炉火总是使他感到想瞌睡和思维迟钝，而特雷络尼教授的不连贯的关于算卦的讲话从来无法令他入神——虽然他忍不住想起她刚才对他说的那番话。“我恐怕你害怕的事情会真的变成事实……”

　　“但荷米恩是对的，”哈利生气地想，特雷络尼教授的确是个老骗人精。他现在压根儿没有在害怕什么……除非你将西里斯的被捉计算在他害怕的事情当中……但特雷络尼教授怎么知道这件事呢？

　　很久以来他便一直认为她那所谓能预测未来的幌子不过是幸运的猜测和她鬼一样明森森的神态带来的。

　　当然，除了那次——上学期末，她预测福尔得摩特正在上升……当哈利将她的预言描述给丹伯多听时，他说她认为这种催眠状态复的发生过。

　　“哈利！”罗恩低声叫他。

　　“什么事？”

　　哈利环顾四周，发现全班同学都在盯着他看。他马上坐直了身体。在炉火的温暖和自己的恩绪中迷失的他已经几乎睡着了。

　　“亲爱的，我是说你显然是出生在上星罪恶的影响之下的，”教授说。当她看到哈利明显地没在认真听她的讲话时，她的语气里带了一丝愤怒。

　　“对不起，在什么之下出生？”

　　“土星，宝贝，土星！”特雷络尼说，因为看到哈利的恩绪居然没被这个消息吸引过来而被激怒了。“我是说你出生的时候，土星在天堂里肯定处于当权的地位……你的黑发……你的矮小的身材……年纪轻轻就悲惨地失去了……我想我猜的没错的话，你是出生于仲冬？”

　　“错了，”哈利说：“我是七月份出生的。”

　　罗恩在一旁笑得咳嗽起来。

　　半小时后，他们每人手里都发到了一张复杂的圆形图表，并试图在表示他们出生时刻的位置上画上相应的行星，这是项单调的工作，需要不断查阅时间表和计算角度。

　　过了一会儿，哈利边皱着眉头看自己手中的羊皮纸一边说：“我这里有两颗海王星，这不可能是对的，是吗？”

　　“呀！”罗恩模仿特雷络尼教授那种神秘的低语说：“当天上出现两颗海王星的时候，就肯定预示著有一个戴眼镜的侏儒正在降生，哈利……”

　　坐在旁边画图的西莫斯和迪恩偷偷地笑出了声，虽然这笑声还不足以掩过莱文登。布朗激动的大叫：“噢，教授你看！我想我得到了一颗意想不到的行星！噢——教授，那是什么？”

　　“亲爱的，那是天王星，”特雷络尼教授说，一边注视着那张图表。

　　“莱文登，可以让我也看一下那颗天王星吗？”罗恩问。

　　很不幸的是，特雷络尼教授听到了这句话，也许就是这句话，使得教授今天下课时给他们布置了一大堆作业。

　　“写一份关于下个月影响你们的行星运动的详细分析，附上你们个人的图表为佐证，”她厉声说，语气一点都不像平时那个优雅纤巧的她，倒像极了麦康娜教授，“必须在下个星期一交上来，不能以任何理由不交作业户”可怜的老蝙蝠，“罗恩痛苦地说，当时他们正加入下楼梯的人流，准备去大礼堂吃晚餐，”这么多作业，要做上一整个星期的，那会……“

　　“一大堆作业？”荷米恩赶上他们，快乐地说：“沃特教授一点都没给我们市置作业！”

　　“天，沃特教授多好啊！”罗恩闷闷不乐地说。

　　他们来到了大礼堂门口，那里站满了排队打饭的人。他们刚加入到队伍的末尾，便听到后面传来了一个大嗓门：“威斯里！嗨，威斯里！”

　　哈利、罗恩和荷米恩都转过身来。马尔夫手里挥舞着一份《先知日报》，说话的声音大得使礼堂里的每个人都听见了。“听听这个消息！”

　　“法部长的新麻烦特别通讯员理特。史姬持报道：看来魔法部长的麻烦还没到头。

　　最近，魔法部长因为在世界杯快迪斯大赛中因控制群众的表现太差而被解雇，并且仍然无法对一名女巫的失踪一事作出合理解释。昨天他又因为阿诺。威斯里的古怪行为——被误认为是抢劫犯，而陷入新的困境。“

　　马尔夫抬起头来。

　　“想一想他们甚至没有写对他的名字，威斯里，似乎它是完全不存在的，对吗？”他欢呼似的说。

　　现在饭厅里的每个人都在听他说话。马尔夫抖了一下报纸，把它立起来，接着念：阿诺。威斯里，两年前被控拥有一架飞行轿车，昨天又卷入一宗国持有一些是攻击性物品而与几个处理抢劫案的警察发生争吵的案件：威斯里先生似乎得到过‘魔眼’莫迪的帮助——那个前任部长，因无法区分握手与企图抢劫的区别而退休。所以很自然地，当威斯里先生来到莫迪先生那戒备森严的住所时，莫迪先生又一次错按了警报。威斯里先生不得不解释一大通才得以摆脱了那些警察。

　　但他不愿回答《先知日报》记者的问题：为什么他会使部长卷入一幕如此失礼和尴尬的情景。

　　“还有一张照片，威斯里！”马尔夫说。他用手指轻弹了一下报纸并将它举高。“是你爸爸妈妈站在他们房子前面的照片。你妈妈要是瘦一点会更好，不是吗？”

　　罗恩因为愤怒而浑身发抖。每个人都盯着他看。

　　“闭嘴吧，马尔夫。”哈利说，“这很普通，罗恩……”

　　“噢，对了，你今年夏天和他们一家住在一起，是吗，波特？”

　　马尔夫讥讽道：“那么告诉我，他妈妈是真的有那么胖，还只是在这张照片上显得胖？”

　　“你知道你妈妈是什么样的吗？马尔夫？”哈利说——他和荷米恩抓着罗恩的上衣背后以阻止他扑向马尔夫——“她的表情就像她的鼻子下面有堆屎？她是老那个样子呢？还是只是和你在一起才那样？”

　　马尔夫苍白的脸上泛起一阵粉红。“你怎么敢骂我妈妈？”

　　“那就闭上你的臭嘴。”哈利说，并转过身去。

　　砰！

　　有几个人尖叫起来——哈利感到有个白色、发热的东西轻轻擦过他的脸——他急忙伸手去抓他的魔杖。但还没来得及摸到那魔杖，他又听到一声巨响“砰！”和在饭厅里的巨大回响。

　　“噢不，别这样！”

　　哈利转了一圈。莫迪教授一瘸一拐地走下楼梯，他的魔杖在手里，正指向一只白雪貂，在石地板上闪着光，那正是马尔夫刚才站着的地方。

　　饭厅里是一阵可怖的沉默。除了莫迪没有人动一动。莫迪转身看着哈利——直到现在他那只正常的眼才看着哈利，另外一只则望向他的后脑勺。

　　“他伤到你了吗？”莫迪咆哮地问。

　　“没有，”哈利说，“射偏了。”

　　“别动它！”莫迪大声道。

　　“别动——什么？”哈利疑惑地说。

　　“不是说你——是说他！”莫迪咆哮，手掌绕过肩膀伸向后面的克来伯刚想去捡起那只白貂，见到莫迪的手便僵在那里了。莫迪转动的眼睛像魔法般的能穿过脑袋看到身后发生的事情。

　　莫迪走向克来伯，高尔和那只白貂。白貂发出一声恐怖的尖叫后开始向地牢的方向奔去。

　　“这怎么成！”莫迪咆哮，他的魔杖再度指向白貂——它向空中飞起十英尺，啪地掉他，然后又弹起来。

　　“我不喜欢在敌人背后袭击的人，”莫迪吼道，小白貂越弹越高，痛苦得尖叫。“令人讨厌、胆小鬼、卑劣的做法……”

　　白貂在空中飞动，它的腿和尾巴无助地挥动着。

　　“不许再这样做！”莫迪一字一顿地说，白貂重重地掉他，接着又弹上半空。

　　“莫迪教授！”一个惊讶的声音叫道。

　　麦康娜教授正走下楼梯，手里捧着一叠书。

　　“哈罗，麦康娜教授。”莫迪平静地说，将白貂越弹越高。

　　“你——你在干什么？”麦康娜教授的眼睛盯着弹起又落下的白貂问。

　　“教学。”莫迪说。

　　“教——莫迪，那是个学生吗？”麦康娜教授尖叫起来，手里的书掉到地上。

　　“是的。”莫迪说。

　　“别这样！”麦康娜教授叫道。她跑下楼梯，拿出魔杖。一刻钟后，随着一声疾响，杰高。马尔夫恢复了原形，缩成一团躺在地板上，金色的头发覆满了发亮却苍白的脸。他站起来，向后缩。

　　“莫迪，我们不能用变形术来惩罚学生。”麦康娜教授轻声说。

　　“丹伯多教授一定告诉过你了吧？”

　　“是的，他也许提过。”莫迪说，一边抓自己的下巴，毫不在意的样子，“但我认为一个恰到好处的惩罚——”

　　“我们可以留堂，或告诉侵犯别人的学生的家长！”

　　“我会这样做的。”莫迪用极不喜欢的神情望着马尔夫。

　　马尔夫的眼里还含着因疼痛和被羞辱而流的泪水。恶狠狠地盯着莫迪咕咕咬咬，只有“我爸爸”几个字听得清。

　　“哦，是吧？”莫迪平静地说，被着上了几级楼梯，他的木腿击在石上的钝音回响在饭厅里。“孩子，我认识你的老父亲……你告诉他莫迪在注意他的儿子……你告诉我……你的家长叫露布斯，对吗？”

　　“是的。”马尔夫恨恨地说。

　　“另一个老伙伴，”莫迪吼道，“我一直想和老露布斯聊聊……

　　来吧……“他抓住马尔夫的上臂，把他拖到地牢去。

　　麦康娜教授焦虑地望着他们的背影好一会儿，然后挥动魔杖，使掉了地的书本飞回到她的手中。

　　“别和我说话。”当他们几分钟后坐在饭桌旁时，罗恩对哈利和荷米恩说。周围的人都在议论这件事。

　　“为什么？”荷米恩惊奇地问。

　　“因为我想永远记住那一幕，”罗恩说，他闭上眼睛，脸上的表情僵僵的，“杰高。马尔夫，那奇妙的弹跳小白貂……”

　　哈利和荷米恩都笑了。荷米恩开始吃他们的盘子里的粉蒸牛肉。

　　“但这样会真的伤到马尔夫的，”她说：“麦康娜教授出来阻止他还是好的——”

　　“荷米恩！”罗恩愤怒地说，他的睛睛忽地睁开了。“你在破坏我一生中最美好的时刻。”

　　荷米恩发出一声不耐烦的声音然后开始快速吃饭。

　　“别告诉我你今晚又要去图书馆。”哈利看着他说。

　　“是的，”荷米恩重重地说，“有一堆事要做。”

　　“但你告诉我们维克福教授——”

　　“不是作业，”她说，五分钟之内她便洗了碟子离去了。

　　她一走，弗来德。威斯里便坐了她的椅子。“莫迪！”他说，“他多‘酷’啊！”

　　“不只是‘酷’。”乔治说，他坐在弗来德对面。

　　“超级酷”双胞胎的好朋友李·乔丹边坐到乔治旁边说：“我们今天下午上他的课。”

　　“他讲课如何？”哈利急切地问。

　　弗来德，乔治和李交换了一下意味深长的眼神。

　　“从来没上过这样的课。”弗来德说。

　　“他知道的。”李说。

　　“知道什么？”罗恩侧过身来问。

　　“知道在那外面做会怎么样？”乔治说。

　　“做什么？”哈利问。

　　“和达克。阿特斯打架。”弗来德说。

　　“他全看到了。”乔治说。

　　“令人惊奇！”李说。

　　罗恩冲向他的书包去找课程表。

　　“我们下周二才会上他的课！”他十分失望地说。