Chapter 3 The Advanced Guard

I've just been attacked by dementors and I might be expelled from Hogwarts. I want to know what's going on and when I'm going to get out of here.

Harry copied these words on to three separate pieces of parchment the moment he reached the desk in his dark bedroom. He addressed the first to Sirius, the second to Ron, and the third to Hermione. His owl, Hedwig, was off hunting; her cage stood empty on the desk. Harry paced the bedroom waiting for her to come back, his head pounding, his brain too busy for sleep even though his eyes stung and itched with tiredness. His back ached from hauling Dudley home, and the two lumps on his head where the window and Dudley had hit him were throbbing painfully.

Up and down he paced, consumed with anger and frustration, grinding his teeth and clenching his fists, casting angry looks out at the empty, star-strewn sky every time he passed the window. Dementors sent to get him, Mrs. Figg and Mundungus Fletcher tailing him in secret, then suspension from Hogwarts and a hearing at the Ministry of Magic—and still no one was telling him what was going on.

And what, what, had that Howler been about? Whose voice had echoed so horribly, so menacingly, through the kitchen?

Why was he still trapped here without information? Why was everyone treating him like some naughty kid? Don't do any more magic, stay in the house...

He kicked his school trunk as he passed it, but far from relieving his anger he felt worse, as he now had a sharp pain in his toe to deal with in addition to the pain in the rest of his body.

Just as he limped past the window, Hedwig soared through it with a soft rustle of wings like a small ghost.

‘About time!’ Harry snarled, as she landed lightly on top of her cage. ‘You can put that down, I've got work for you!’

Hedwig's large, round, amber eyes gazed at him reproachfully over the dead frog clamped in her beak.

‘Come here,’ said Harry, picking up the three small rolls of parchment and a leather thong and tying the scrolls to her scaly leg. ‘Take these straight to Sirius, Ron and Hermione and don't come back here without good long replies. Keep pecking them till they've written decent-length answers if you've got to. Understand?’

Hedwig gave a muffled hooting noise, her beak still full of frog.

‘Get going, then,’ said Harry.

She took off immediately. The moment she'd gone, Harry threw himself down on his bed without undressing and stared at the dark ceiling. In addition to every other miserable feeling, he now felt guilty that he'd been irritable with Hedwig; she was the only friend he had at number four, Privet Drive. But he'd make it up to her when she came back with the answers from Sirius, Ron and Hermione.

They were bound to write back quickly; they couldn't possibly ignore a Dementor attack. He'd probably wake up tomorrow to three fat letters full of sympathy and plans for his immediate removal to The Burrow. And with that comforting idea, sleep rolled over him, stifling all further thought.

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But Hedwig didn't return next morning. Harry spent the day in his bedroom, leaving it only to go to the bathroom. Three times that day Aunt Petunia shoved food into his room through the cat-flap Uncle Vernon had installed three summers ago. Every time Harry heard her approaching he tried to question her about the Howler, but he might as well have interrogated the doorknob for all the answers he got. Otherwise, the Dursleys kept well clear of his bedroom. Harry couldn't see the point of forcing his company on them; another row would achieve nothing except perhaps make him so angry he'd perform more illegal magic.

So it went on for three whole days. Harry was alternately filled with restless energy that made him unable to settle to anything, during which time he paced his bedroom, furious at the whole lot of them for leaving him to stew in this mess, and with a lethargy so complete that he could lie on his bed for an hour at a time, staring dazedly into space, aching with dread at the thought of the Ministry hearing.

What if they ruled against him? What if he was expelled and his wand was snapped in half? What would he do, where would he go? He could not return to living full-time with the Dursleys, not now he knew the other world, the one to which he really belonged.... Might he be able to move into Sirius's house, as Sirius had suggested a year ago, before he had been forced to flee from the Ministry? Would Harry be allowed to live there alone, given that he was still underage? Or would the matter of where he went next be decided for him? Had his breach of the International Statute of Secrecy been severe enough to land him in a cell in Azkaban? Whenever this thought occurred, Harry invariably slid off his bed and began pacing again.

On the fourth night after Hedwig's departure Harry was lying in one of his apathetic phases, staring at the ceiling, his exhausted mind quite blank, when his uncle entered his bedroom. Harry looked slowly around at him. Uncle Vernon was wearing his best suit and an expression of enormous smugness.

‘We're going out,’ he said.

‘Sorry?’

‘We—that is to say, your aunt, Dudley and I—are going out.’

‘Fine,’ said Harry dully, looking back at the ceiling.

‘You are not to leave your bedroom while we are away.’

‘OK.’

‘You are not to touch the television, the stereo, or any of our possessions.’

‘Right.’

‘You are not to steal food from the fridge.’

‘OK.’

‘I am going to lock your door.’

‘You do that.’

Uncle Vernon glared at Harry, clearly suspicious of this lack of argument, then stomped out of the room and closed the door behind him. Harry heard the key turn in the lock and Uncle Vernon's footsteps walking heavily down the stairs. A few minutes later he heard the slamming of car doors, the rumble of an engine, and the unmistakeable sound of the car sweeping out of the drive.

Harry had no particular feeling about the Dursleys leaving. It made no difference to him whether they were in the house or not. He could not even summon the energy to get up and turn on his bedroom light. The room grew steadily darker around him as he lay listening to the night sounds through the window he kept open all the time, waiting for the blessed moment when Hedwig returned.

The empty house creaked around him. The pipes gurgled. Harry lay there in a kind of stupor, thinking of nothing, suspended in misery.

Then, quite distinctly, he heard a crash in the kitchen below.

He sat bolt upright, listening intently. The Dursleys couldn't be back, it was much too soon, and in any case he hadn't heard their car.

There was silence for a few seconds, then voices.

Burglars, he thought, sliding off the bed on to his feet—but a split second later it occurred to him that burglars would keep their voices down, and whoever was moving around in the kitchen was certainly not troubling to do so.

He snatched up his wand from the bedside table and stood facing his bedroom door, listening with all his might. Next moment, he jumped as the lock gave a loud click and his door swung open.

Harry stood motionless, staring through the open doorway at the dark upstairs landing, straining his ears for further sounds, but none came. He hesitated for a moment, then moved swiftly and silently out of his room to the head of the stairs.

His heart shot upwards into his throat. There were people standing in the shadowy hall below, silhouetted against the streetlight glowing through the glass door; eight or nine of them, all, as far as he could see, looking up at him.

‘Lower your wand, boy, before you take someone's eye out,’ said a low, growling voice.

Harry's heart was thumping uncontrollably. He knew that voice, but he did not lower his wand.

‘Professor Moody?’ he said uncertainly.

‘I don't know so much about “Professor",’ growled the voice, ‘never got round to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly.’

Harry lowered his wand slightly but did not relax his grip on it, nor did he move. He had very good reason to be suspicious. He had recently spent nine months in what he had thought was Mad-Eye Moody's company only to find out that it wasn't Moody at all, but an impostor; an impostor, moreover, who

‘It's all right, Harry. We've come to take you away.’

Harry's heart leapt. He knew that voice, too, though he hadn't heard it for over a year.

‘P-Professor Lupin?’ he said disbelievingly. ‘Is that you?’

‘Why are we all standing in the dark?’ said a third voice, this one completely unfamiliar, a woman's. ‘Lumos.’

A wand-tip flared, illuminating the hall with magical light. Harry blinked. The people below were crowded around the foot of the stairs, gazing up at him intently, some craning their heads for a better look.

Remus Lupin stood nearest to him. Though still quite young, Lupin looked tired and rather ill; he had more grey hairs than when Harry had last said good-bye to him and his robes were more patched and shabbier than ever. Nevertheless, he was smiling broadly at Harry, who tried to smile back despite his state of shock.

‘Oooh, he looks just like I thought he would,’ said the witch who was holding her lit wand aloft. She looked the youngest there; she had a pale heart-shaped face, dark twinkling eyes, and short spiky hair that was a violent shade of violet. ‘Wotcher, Harry!’

‘Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus,’ said a bald black wizard standing furthest back; he had a deep, slow voice and wore a single gold hoop in his ear. ‘He looks exactly like James.’

‘Except the eyes,’ said a wheezy-voiced, silver-haired wizard at the back. ‘Lily's eyes.’

Mad-Eye Moody, who had long grizzled grey hair and a large chunk missing from his nose, was squinting suspiciously at Harry through his mismatched eyes. One eye was small, dark and beady, the other large, round and electric blue—the magical eye that could see through walls, doors, and the back of Moody's own head.

‘Are you quite sure it's him, Lupin?’ he growled. ‘It'd be a nice lookout if we bring back some Death Eater impersonating him. We ought to ask him something only the real Potter would know. Unless anyone brought any Veritaserum?’

‘Harry, what form does your Patronus take?’ Lupin asked.

‘A stag,’ said Harry nervously.

‘That's him, Mad-Eye,’ said Lupin.

Very conscious of everybody still staring at him, Harry descended the stairs, stowing his wand in the back pocket of his jeans as he came.

‘Don't put your wand there, boy!’ roared Moody. ‘What if it ignited? Better wizards than you have lost buttocks, you know!’

‘Who d'you know who's lost a buttock?’ the violet-haired woman asked Mad-Eye interestedly.

‘Never you mind, you just keep your wand out of your back pocket!’ growled Mad-Eye. ‘Elementary wand-safety, nobody bothers about it any more.’ He stumped off towards the kitchen. ‘And I saw that,’ he added irritably, as the woman rolled her eyes towards the ceiling.

Lupin held out his hand and shook Harry's.

‘How are you?’ he asked, looking closely at Harry.

‘F-fine...’

Harry could hardly believe this was real. Four weeks with nothing, not the tiniest hint of a plan to remove him from Privet Drive, and suddenly a whole bunch of wizards was standing matter-of-factly in the house as though this was a long-standing arrangement. He glanced at the people surrounding Lupin; they were still gazing avidly at him. He felt very conscious of the fact that he had not combed his hair for four days.

‘I'm—you're really lucky the Dursleys are out...’ he mumbled.

‘Lucky, ha!’ said the violet-haired woman. ‘It was me who lured them out of the way. Sent a letter by Muggle post telling them they'd been short-listed for the All-England Best Kept Suburban Lawn Competition. They're heading off to the prize-giving right now.... Or they think they are.’

Harry had a fleeting vision of Uncle Vernon's face when he realised there was no All-England Best Kept Suburban Lawn Competition.

‘We are leaving, aren't we?’ he asked. ‘Soon?’

‘Almost at once,’ said Lupin, ‘we're just waiting for the all-clear.’

‘Where are we going? The Burrow?’ Harry asked hopefully.

‘Not The Burrow, no,’ said Lupin, motioning Harry towards the kitchen; the little knot of wizards followed, all still eyeing Harry curiously. ‘Too risky. We've set up Headquarters somewhere un-detectable. It's taken a while....’

Mad-Eye Moody was now sitting at the kitchen table swigging from a hip flask, his magical eye spinning in all directions, taking in the Dursleys’ many labour-saving appliances.

‘This is Alastor Moody, Harry,’ Lupin continued, pointing towards Moody.

‘Yeah, I know,’ said Harry uncomfortably. It felt odd to be introduced to somebody he'd thought he'd known for a year.

‘And this is Nymphadora—’

‘Don't call me Nymphadora, Remus,’ said the young witch with a shudder, ‘it's Tonks.’

‘Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be known by her surname only,’ finished Lupin.

‘So would you if your fool of a mother had called you Nymphadora,’ muttered Tonks.

‘And this is Kingsley Shacklebolt'—he indicated the tall black wizard, who bowed—'Elphias Doge'—the wheezy-voiced wizard nodded—'Dedalus Diggle—’

‘We've met before,’ squeaked the excitable Diggle, dropping his violet-coloured top hat.

‘—Emmeline Vance'—a stately-looking witch in an emerald green shawl inclined her head—'Sturgis Podmore'—a square-jawed wizard with thick straw-coloured hair winked—'and Hestia Jones.’ A pink-cheeked, black-haired witch waved from next to the toaster.

Harry inclined his head awkwardly at each of them as they were introduced. He wished they would look at something other than him; it was as though he had suddenly been ushered on-stage. He also wondered why so many of them were there.

‘A surprising number of people volunteered to come and get you,’ said Lupin, as though he had read Harry's mind; the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.

‘Yeah, well, the more the better,’ said Moody darkly. ‘We're your guard, Potter.’

‘We're just waiting for the signal to tell us it's safe to set off,’ said Lupin, glancing out of the kitchen window. ‘We've got about fifteen minutes.’

‘Very clean, aren't they, these Muggles?’ said the witch called Tonks, who was looking around the kitchen with great interest. ‘My dad's Muggle-born and he's a right old slob. I suppose it varies, just as it does with wizards?’

‘Er—yeah,’ said Harry. ‘Look'—he turned back to Lupin—'what's going on, I haven't heard anything from anyone, what's Vol—?’

Several of the witches and wizards made odd hissing noises; Dedalus Diggle dropped his hat again, and Moody growled, ‘Shut up!’

‘What?’ said Harry.

‘We're not discussing anything here, it's too risky,’ said Moody, turning his normal eye on Harry. His magical eye remained focused on the ceiling. ‘Damn it,’ he added angrily, putting a hand up to the magical eye, ‘it keeps getting stuck—ever since that scum wore it—’

And with a nasty squelching sound much like a plunger being pulled from a sink, he popped out his eye.

‘Mad-Eye, you do know that's disgusting, don't you?’ said Tonks conversationally.

‘Get me a glass of water, would you, Harry,’ requested Moody.

Harry crossed to the dishwasher, took out a clean glass and filled it with water at the sink, still watched eagerly by the band of wizards. Their relentless staring was starting to annoy him.

‘Cheers,’ said Moody, when Harry handed him the glass. He dropped the magical eyeball into the water and prodded it up and down; the eye whizzed around, staring at them all in turn. ‘I want three hundred and sixty degrees visibility on the return journey.’

‘How're we getting—wherever we're going?’ Harry asked.

‘Brooms,’ said Lupin. ‘Only way. You're too young to Apparate, they'll be watching the Floo Network and it's more than our life's worth to set up an unauthorised Portkey.’

‘Remus says you're a good flier,’ said Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep voice.

‘He's excellent,’ said Lupin, who was checking his watch. ‘Anyway, you'd better go and get packed, Harry, we want to be ready to go when the signal comes.’

‘I'll come and help you,’ said Tonks brightly.

She followed Harry back into the hall and up the stairs, looking around with much curiosity and interest.

‘Funny place,’ she said. ‘It's a bit too clean, d'you know what I mean? Bit unnatural. Oh, this is better,’ she added, as they entered Harry's bedroom and he turned on the light.

His room was certainly much messier than the rest of the house. Confined to it for four days in a very bad mood, Harry had not bothered tidying up after himself. Most of the books he owned were strewn over the floor where he'd tried to distract himself with each in turn and thrown it aside; Hedwig's cage needed cleaning out and was starting to smell; and his trunk lay open, revealing a jumbled mixture of Muggle clothes and wizards’ robes that had spilled on to the floor around it.

Harry started picking up books and throwing them hastily into his trunk. Tonks paused at his open wardrobe to look critically at her reflection in the mirror on the inside of the door.

‘You know, I don't think violet's really my colour,’ she said pensively, tugging at a lock of spiky hair. ‘D'you think it makes me look a bit peaky?’

‘Er—’ said Harry, looking up at her over the top of Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland.

‘Yeah, it does,’ said Tonks decisively. She screwed up her eyes in a strained expression as though she was struggling to remember something. A second later, her hair had turned bubble-gum pink.

‘How did you do that?’ said Harry, gaping at her as she opened her eyes again.

‘I'm a Metamorphmagus,’ she said, looking back at her reflection and turning her head so that she could see her hair from all directions. ‘It means I can change my appearance at will,’ she added, spotting Harry's puzzled expression in the mirror behind her. ‘I was born one. I got top marks in Concealment and Disguise during Auror training without any study at all, it was great.’

‘You're an Auror?’ said Harry, impressed. Being a Dark-wizard-catcher was the only career he'd ever considered after Hogwarts.

‘Yeah,’ said Tonks, looking proud. ‘Kingsley is as well; he's a bit higher up than me, though. I only qualified a year ago. Nearly failed on Stealth and Tracking. I'm dead clumsy, did you hear me break that plate when we arrived downstairs?’

‘Can you learn how to be a Metamorphmagus?’ Harry asked her, straightening up, completely forgetting about packing.

Tonks chuckled.

‘Bet you wouldn't mind hiding that scar sometimes, eh?’

Her eyes found the lightning-shaped scar on Harry's forehead.

‘No, I wouldn't mind,’ Harry mumbled, turning away. He did not like people staring at his scar.

‘Well, you'll have to learn the hard way, I'm afraid,’ said Tonks. ‘Metamorphmagi are really rare, they're born, not made. Most wizards need to use a wand, or potions, to change their appearance. But we've got to get going, Harry, we're supposed to be packing,’ she added guiltily, looking around at all the mess on the floor.

‘Oh—yeah,’ said Harry, grabbing a few more books.

‘Don't be stupid, it'll be much quicker if I—pack!’ cried Tonks, waving her wand in a long, sweeping movement over the floor.

Books, clothes, telescope, and scales all soared into the air and flew pell-mell into the trunk.

‘It's not very neat,’ said Tonks, walking over to the trunk and looking down at the jumble inside. ‘My mum's got this knack of getting stuff to fit itself in neatly—she even gets the socks to fold themselves—but I've never mastered how she does it—it's a kind of flick—’ She flicked her wand hopefully.

One of Harry's socks gave a feeble sort of wiggle and flopped back on top of the mess in the trunk.

‘Ah, well,’ said Tonks, slamming the trunk's lid shut, ‘at least it's all in. That could do with a bit of cleaning, too.’ She pointed her wand at Hedwig's cage. ‘Scourgify.’ A few feathers and droppings vanished. ‘Well, that's a bit better— I've never quite got the hang of these householdy sort of spells. Right—got everything? Cauldron? Broom? Wow! A Firebolt!’

Her eyes widened as they fell on the broomstick in Harry's right hand. It was his pride and joy, a gift from Sirius, an international-standard broomstick.

‘And I'm still riding a Comet Two Sixty,’ said Tonks enviously. ‘Ah well ... wand still in your jeans? Both buttocks still on? OK, let's go. Locomotor trunk.’

Harry's trunk rose a few inches into the air. Holding her wand like a conductors baton, Tonks made the trunk hover across the room and out of the door ahead of them, Hedwig's cage in her left hand. Harry followed her down the stairs carrying his broomstick.

Back in the kitchen Moody had replaced his eye, which was spinning so fast after its cleaning it made Harry feel sick to look at it. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Sturgis Podmore were examining the microwave and Hestia Jones was laughing at a potato peeler she had come across while rummaging in the drawers. Lupin was sealing a letter addressed to the Dursleys.

‘Excellent,’ said Lupin, looking up as Tonks and Harry entered. ‘We've got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we're ready. Harry, I've left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry—’

‘They won't,’ said Harry.

‘—that you're safe—’

‘That'll just depress them.’

‘—and you'll see them next summer.’

‘Do I have to?’

Lupin smiled but made no answer.

‘Come here, boy,’ said Moody gruffly, beckoning Harry towards him with his wand. ‘I need to Disillusion you.’

‘You need to what?’ said Harry nervously.

‘Disillusionment Charm,’ said Moody, raising his wand. ‘Lupin says you've got an Invisibility Cloak, but it won't stay on while we're flying; this'll disguise you better. Here you go—’

He rapped him hard on the top of the head and Harry felt a curious sensation as though Moody had just smashed an egg there; cold trickles seemed to be running down his body from the point the wand had struck.

‘Nice one, Mad-Eye,’ said Tonks appreciatively, staring at Harry's midriff.

Harry looked down at his body, or rather, what had been his body, for it didn't look anything like his any more. It was not invisible; it had simply taken on the exact colour and texture of the kitchen unit behind him. He seemed to have become a human chameleon.

‘Come on,’ said Moody, unlocking the back door with his wand.

They all stepped outside on to Uncle Vernon's beautifully kept lawn.

‘Clear night,’ grunted Moody, his magical eye scanning the heavens. ‘Could've done with a bit more cloud cover. Right, you,’ he barked at Harry, ‘we're going to be flying in close formation. Tonks'll be right in front of you, keep close on her tail. Lupin'll be covering you from below. I'm going to be behind you. The rest'll be circling us. We don't break ranks for anything, got me? If one of us is killed—’

‘Is that likely?’ Harry asked apprehensively, but Moody ignored him.

‘—the others keep flying, don't stop, don't break ranks. If they take out all of us and you survive, Harry, the rear guard are standing by to take over; keep flying east and they'll join you.’

‘Stop being so cheerful, Mad-Eye, he'll think we're not taking this seriously,’ said Tonks, as she strapped Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage into a harness hanging from her broom.

‘I'm just telling the boy the plan,’ growled Moody. ‘Our job's to deliver him safely to Headquarters and if we die in the attempt—’

‘No one's going to die,’ said Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep, calming voice.

‘Mount your brooms, that's the first signal!’ said Lupin sharply, pointing into the sky.

Far, far above them, a shower of bright red sparks had flared among the stars. Harry recognised them at once as wand sparks. He swung his right leg over his Firebolt, gripped its handle tightly and felt it vibrating very slightly, as though it was as keen as he was to be up in the air once more.

‘Second signal, let's go!’ said Lupin loudly as more sparks, green this time, exploded high above them.

Harry kicked off hard from the ground. The cool night air rushed through his hair as the neat square gardens of Privet Drive fell away, shrinking rapidly into a patchwork of dark greens and blacks, and every thought of the Ministry hearing was swept from his mind as though the rush of air had blown it out of his head. He felt as though his heart was going to explode with pleasure; he was flying again, flying away from Privet Drive as he'd been fantasising about all summer, he was going home.... For a few glorious moments, all his problems seemed to recede to nothing, insignificant in the vast, starry sky.

‘Hard left, hard left, there's a Muggle looking up!’ shouted Moody from behind him. Tonks swerved and Harry followed her, watching his trunk swinging wildly beneath her broom. ‘We need more height.... Give it another quarter of a mile!’

Harry's eyes watered in the chill as they soared upwards: he could see nothing below now but tiny pinpricks of light that were car headlights and streetlamps. Two of those tiny lights might belong to Uncle Vernon's car.... The Dursleys would be heading back to their empty house right now, full of rage about the nonexistent Lawn Competition ... and Harry laughed aloud at the thought, though his voice was drowned by the flapping robes of the others, the creaking of the harness holding his trunk and the cage, and the whoosh of the wind in their ears as they sped through the air. He had not felt this alive in a month, or this happy.

‘Bearing south!’ shouted Mad-Eye. ‘Town ahead!’

They soared right to avoid passing directly over the glittering spiderweb of lights below.

‘Bear southeast and keep climbing, there's some low cloud ahead we can lose ourselves in!’ called Moody.

‘We're not going through clouds!’ shouted Tonks angrily, ‘we'll get soaked, Mad-Eye!’

Harry was relieved to hear her say this; his hands were growing numb on the Firebolt's handle. He wished he had thought to put on a coat; he was starting to shiver.

They altered their course every now and then according to Mad-Eye's instructions. Harry's eyes were screwed up against the rush of icy wind that was starting to make his ears ache; he could remember being this cold on a broom only once before, during the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff in his third year, which had taken place in a storm. The guard around him was circling continuously like giant birds of prey. Harry lost track of time. He wondered how long they had been flying, it felt like an hour at least.

‘Turning southwest!’ yelled Moody. ‘We want to avoid the motorway!’

Harry was now so chilled he thought longingly of the snug, dry interiors of the cars streaming along below, then, even more longingly, of travelling by Floo powder; it might be uncomfortable to spin around in fireplaces but it was at least warm in the flames.... Kingsley Shacklebolt swooped around him, bald pate and earring gleaming slightly in the moonlight.... Now Emmeline Vance was on his right, her wand out, her head turning left and right ... then she, too, swooped over him, to be replaced by Sturgis Podmore....

‘We ought to double back for a bit, just to make sure we're not being followed!’ Moody shouted.

‘ARE YOU MAD, MAD-EYE?’ Tonks screamed from the front. ‘We're all frozen to our brooms! If we keep going off-course we're not going to get there until next week! Besides, we're nearly there now!’

‘Time to start the descent!’ came Lupin's voice. ‘Follow Tonks, Harry!’

Harry followed Tonks into a dive. They were heading for the largest collection of lights he had yet seen, a huge, sprawling crisscrossing mass, glittering in lines and grids, interspersed with patches of deepest black. Lower and lower they flew, until Harry could see individual headlights and streetlamps, chimneys and television aerials. He wanted to reach the ground very much, though he felt sure someone would have to unfreeze him from his broom.

‘Here we go!’ called Tonks, and a few seconds later she had landed.

Harry touched down right behind her and dismounted on a patch of unkempt grass in the middle of a small square. Tonks was already unbuckling Harry's trunk. Shivering, Harry looked around. The grimy fronts of the surrounding houses were not welcoming; some of them had broken windows, glimmering dully in the light from the streetlamps, paint was peeling from many of the doors and heaps of rubbish lay outside several sets of front steps.

‘Where are we?’ Harry asked, but Lupin said quietly, ‘In a minute.’

Moody was rummaging in his cloak, his gnarled hands clumsy with cold.

‘Got it,’ he muttered, raising what looked like a silver cigarette lighter into the air and clicking it.

The nearest streetlamp went out with a pop. He clicked the unlighter again; the next lamp went out; he kept clicking until every lamp in the square was extinguished and the only remaining light came from curtained windows and the sickle moon overhead.

‘Borrowed it from Dumbledore,’ growled Moody, pocketing the Put-Outer. ‘That'll take care of any Muggles looking out of the window, see? Now come on, quick.’

He took Harry by the arm and led him from the patch of grass, across the road and on to the pavement; Lupin and Tonks followed, carrying Harry's trunk between them, the rest of the guard, all with their wands out, flanking them.

The muffled pounding of a stereo was coming from an upper window in the nearest house. A pungent smell of rotting rubbish came from the pile of bulging bin-bags just inside the broken gate.

‘Here,’ Moody muttered, thrusting a piece of parchment towards Harry's Disillusioned hand and holding his lit wand close to it, so as to illuminate the writing. ‘Read quickly and memorise.’

Harry looked down at the piece of paper. The narrow handwriting was vaguely familiar. It said:

The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.

我刚刚被摄魂怪袭击了，而且也许会被开除出霍格瓦彻。我想了解接下来会怎么样以及什么时候我将被赶出这里。

　　哈利一回到他漆黑卧室的书桌前就把上面这些话抄进了三张不同的羊皮纸。他把第一封信寄给了天狼星，第二封信寄给了罗恩，第三封信寄给了荷米恩。哈利的猫头鹰海维现在正在外面觅食，它桌上的笼子是空的。哈利在卧室里踱来踱去等海维回来，他的头象受到重击一样，尽管他的眼睛由于过度疲劳而刺痛发痒，可是他的脑子却因为过度亢奋而失眠。自从背着达德里回家以来他的背就一直在疼痛，窗户上撞的加上达德里打的那一拳在哈利的头上留下两个肿块，现在也是抽痛。

　　哈利踱来踱去，带着愤怒和挫败感消磨时光，他磨着牙齿，并且牢牢的攥紧自己的拳头。每次走到窗边的时候他都用恼怒的目光看着外面空洞的，点缀着星光的夜空。摄魂怪送到他的面前，费格太太和蒙顿格斯·弗莱彻秘密跟踪他，接着被从霍格瓦彻延期开除并被告知出席魔法部的听证会—最糟的是直到现在都没有人告诉他还会发生什么。

　　还有关于那个巫师吼叫信的问题。谁的声音在厨房里回荡的时候显得如此恐怖，如此恶毒呢？

　　为什么他依然留在这里得不到任何消息呢？为什么每个人对待他的态度都象对待一个调皮的孩子呢？他只是被要求待在这所房子里并且不得再使用任何魔法。

　　当哈利经过时他踢了学校的旅行箱一脚，可是这远远没有发泄他的怒火，而只是让他感觉更加的糟糕，就象现在这样，他除了身体其他部分的疼痛之外他的脚趾也剧烈的疼痛起来。

　　就再哈利再次一瘸一拐的经过窗户的时候，海维象一只小幽灵一样拍着柔软的沙沙作响的翅膀从窗户飞了进来。

　　“什么时候了！”当海维站在笼子顶上的时候，哈利怒气冲冲的说道，“把那东西放下来，我有工作要你做！”

　　海维的嘴里叼着一只死青蛙，用它那巨大滚圆，呈琥珀色的眼睛盯着哈利，眼中满是责备。

　　“到这儿来，”哈利说道，他拿起那三张小羊皮纸和一根皮带并将信卷好绑在海维的脚上。“把这些直接送给天狼星、罗恩和荷米恩，而且没得到足够长度的回信就别回来。如果你到了的话就一直啄他们直到他们写出相当长度的回应。明白了吗？”

　　海维发出不满的声音，她的嘴里依然叼着那只青蛙。

　　“那么出发吧，”哈利说道。

　　她立即启程出发了。就在海维飞走的那一刻，哈利倒在了床上，直勾勾的盯着漆黑一片的天花板。除了其他痛苦的感受以外，他现在又为自己如此粗暴的对待海维而感到愧疚。海维是他在女贞路四号里唯一的朋友。哈利决定当海维带着天狼星，罗恩和荷米恩的回信返回的时候要好好弥补她。

　　他们肯定会很快回信的：他们决不可能忽略摄魂怪的袭击。由于他对巴罗方面的快速反应，也许明天他醒来的时候，三个写满各种同情和计划的鼓鼓囊囊的信封就会交到他的手里。带着这种令人安慰的想法，睡意席卷了哈利，所有进一步的想法都沉寂下去了。

　　但是海维第二天早晨并没有回来，哈利一整天都待在卧室里，只有去浴室才离开一下。这一天有三次帕尤妮亚姨妈将食物从维能姨父三年前安装的那个猫洞递进来。每次哈利听见姨妈接近的时候他都试图询问那个巫师吼叫信的事情，但是每次都象是在向门把手咨询一样。除此之外，杜斯利一家就让他好好的待在卧室里。哈利看不到和他们在一起会带给他什么力量，除了可能会使他更加愤怒而施展更多的非法魔法之外什么也得不到。

　　这样的情况持续了三天。哈利浑身上下充满了过剩的能量，这使的他没有办法解决任何事情，每次他在卧室里踱步的时候他都会为那些把他扔在这个脏乱闷热的鬼地方的人感到极度愤怒，同时每隔一段时间他就会在床上躺一个小时，麻木的盯着空中，以一种恐惧的疼痛想着魔法部的听证会。

　　如果他们的裁定对他不利怎么办？如果他被开除并且魔杖被折成两段怎么办？他能做什么呢？他能去哪里呢？他无法回到每天和杜斯利一家生活在一起的日子，现在的他不象过去，他知道了另一个他真正归属的世界。也许他可以搬进天狼星的房子去住，就象一年以前天狼星被迫从魔法部逃跑之前建议的那样？可是哈利还未成年，他能否获准一个人生活在哪里呢？或者他将要前往的地方接下来就要决定他的去向呢？也可能他违反国际巫术保密条例的行为已经足够严重，从而使他够资格在阿滋卡班得到一个房间呢？无论何时出现这些想法，哈利总是从床上滑下来并再次在卧室里踱步。

　　到了海维出发的第四夜，当维能姨父进入卧室的时候，哈利正处于他最无动于衷的某个阶段，眼睛盯着天花板，极度疲劳的大脑一片空白。哈利缓慢的看着他。维能姨父穿着他最好的衣服，脸上带着一种极度装模做样的表情。 “我们正准备出去？”

　　“抱歉？”

　　“我们-这么说吧，你的姨妈、达德里和我正准备出门。”

　　“很好，”哈利迟钝的说着，眼睛又回到天花板。

　　“当我们外出的时候你不准离开卧室。”

　　“没问题。”

　　“你不准碰电视，立体声音响以及任何属于我们的财产。”

　　“可以。”

　　“你不准从冰箱里偷食物。”

　　“行。”

　　“我将把你的门锁上。”

　　“你就这么干吧。”

　　维能姨父盯着哈利，明显对这种缺乏争吵的状况感到怀疑，然后他重重的走出了房间，并关上了他身后的门。哈利听见了钥匙在锁孔里转动的声音，以及维能姨父下楼的沉重脚步声。几分钟之后，他听见了车库门打开的声音，和发动机的轰鸣声，最后是千真万确的汽车驶上马路的声音。

　　关于杜斯利一家的离开哈利没有任何特别的感觉。对他来说他们是否在家没有任何区别。他甚至没有振作精神爬起来打开卧室的灯。当哈利透过从来不关的窗户躺在床上倾听夜晚的声音的时候，他周围的房间变得更加黑暗了，他现在只是等着某个被祝福的时刻海维能够回来。空荡荡的房子在哈利的身边吱吱作响。管道发出汩汩的流水声。哈利带着一种半昏迷的，不想任何事情的，暂时忘却痛苦的精神状态躺在床上。

　　接着，很清楚的，他听到下面的厨房里传来一声撞击声。他直挺挺的坐起来，仔细倾听。杜斯利一家不可能回来，时间太短，而且无论如何他都会听见他们汽车的声音。

　　下面安静了几秒钟，然后响起了说话声。他的想法是来了夜贼，他的脚从床上滑下来—但是第二个瞬间他意识到夜贼会降低他们的声音，并且无论是谁在厨房里移动都肯定不会这么做以给自己惹上麻烦。

　　哈利从床边的桌子上抓起了自己的魔杖并面队卧室的门站好，尽其所能倾听着外面的动静。下一刻，伴随着锁发出一声响亮的卡嗒声他的卧室门开了，哈利跳了起来。哈利静止不动的站着，通过打开的门洞盯着黑暗的上楼的楼梯平台，竖起耳朵以便听见更多的声音，但是没人上来。他犹豫了一下，然后快速的移动并安静的走出了房间，来到了楼梯的最上端。 他的心一下子提到了嗓子眼。有人站在楼下客厅的阴影里，从毛玻璃透过来的街灯的光照出了他们的侧面轮廓，就他能够尽力看见的而言大约有八到九个人，正在抬头看着他。

　　“在你把某人的眼睛打爆之前，放低你的魔杖，”一个低沉的声音咆哮道。

　　哈利的心脏不受控制的狂跳。他认得这个声音，但是他并没有放低自己的魔杖。

　　“是穆迪教授吗？”他不确定的问道。

　　“我可不知道什么教授，”这个声音回答道，“我从来就没有教过你们什么东西，是吗？下来，到这里来，我们要见你。”

　　哈利稍稍放低了魔杖，但是毫不放松的抓着它，同时也没有移动脚步。他完全有充足的理由怀疑。他在最近九个月里认为是疯眼汉穆迪的家伙却被发现完全不是穆迪，而是一个冒名顶替者，一个冒名顶替者，而且更糟糕的是，在他被揭穿之前他还试图杀死哈利。但是在哈利决定下一步行动之前，另一个稍稍沙哑的声音传到了楼上。

　　“没事了，哈利。我们来带你走。”

　　哈利的心脏急速的跳动着。他同样认的这个声音，尽管他已经有一年多没有听到这个声音了。

　　“卢平教授？”他难以置信的问道，“是你吗？”

　　“我们为什么要站在黑暗里？”第三个声音说道，这个声音是完全陌生的，是个女人，“拉莫斯（咒语）。”

　　一根魔杖发出了闪光，魔法的光亮照亮了整个客厅。哈利眨了眨眼睛。下面的人都挤在楼梯脚上，专心的盯着哈利，有些人甚至象苏格兰鲱鱼一样仰起头以便看的更清楚。

　　瑞莫斯·卢平站的离哈利最近。尽管仍然十分年轻，可卢平看上去十分疲倦，一脸病容：他的头发比哈利一年前与他道别时看来更加的灰白，而且他的长袍与过去相比也更加的破旧不堪。然而，他却正在对着哈利露骨的微笑，而后者震惊之余也尽力以微笑回应。

　　“哦呵，他看上去就象我想象的那个样子，”说话的女巫拿着她那根在高处发光的魔杖。她看上去是这群人里面最年轻的一个：她有着一张苍白的脸，眼睛乌黑闪亮，短而尖的头发是紫色的，呈现出一种狂暴的阴影。“沃切，哈利！““是的，我知道你的意思，瑞莫斯，”说话的是个秃顶的黑人巫师，他站在后面最远的地方—他有着深沉缓慢的声音，并且在他的耳朵上带着一只金环—“他看起来象极了詹姆斯。”

　　“除了眼睛，”说话的是站在后面的一个气喘吁吁，满头白发的老巫师，“那是莉莉的眼睛。”

　　疯眼汉穆迪，就是那个有着长而灰白头发，鼻子缺掉一大块的老头，正在通过他那对毫不相配的眼睛怀疑的打量着哈利。他的一只眼睛很小，黑色，向珠子一样，而另一只眼睛巨大，滚圆并且是铁蓝色的—这只魔眼能够穿透墙壁，门以及穆迪自己的后脑看见东西。“你十分确定是他吗，卢平？”他低吼道，“如果我们带回去的是某个该死的模仿者那就好看了。我们应当问他一些只有真正的波特才知道的问题。否则除非谁带了威瑞塔斯拉姆（一种测谎的魔法药剂）药剂。”

　　“哈利，你的帕特拿姆魔法是什么形状的？”卢平问道，“一只牡鹿。”哈利紧张不安的说道。“就是他，穆迪。”卢平回答说。

　　每个人都仍然十分好奇的盯着他，哈利走下楼梯，当他走上前的时候将魔杖收进了牛仔裤背后的口袋里。

　　“不要把魔杖放在那里，孩子！”穆迪吼道，“如果它点着了怎么办？比你优秀的巫师都会烧到臀部，你知道的！”

　　“你知道有谁烧掉了臀部吗？”那个紫色头发的女巫十分感兴趣的问疯眼汉穆迪。

　　“这不关你的事，你只要把你的魔杖从屁股口袋里拿出来！”穆迪吼道，“这是基本的魔杖安全措施，没有人会嫌它麻烦的。”可是他在通往厨房的路上绊倒了。“我看见了，”当穆迪看见那个女巫把眼睛翻向天花板时他气急败坏的加了一句。

　　卢平伸出他的手摇晃着哈利的手。“你怎么样？”他在很近的地方看着哈利并问道。“我很好。”哈利说。

　　哈利几乎不能相信这是真的。四个星期音信全无，没有半点迹象暗示有将他带离女贞路的计划，而突然一大群巫师见怪不怪的站在这所房子里，仿佛这是一个早就拟订的计划。他扫了一眼围着卢平教授的这些人，他们仍然热切的盯着他。他对自己四天没有梳头这一事实感到极为害羞。

　　“我说—你们真的十分幸运，因为杜斯利一家都出去了。”他含糊不清的说道。

　　“幸运，哈！”那个紫色头发的女巫说道，“是我用一种方式把他们引诱出去的。我通过麻瓜的邮局送了一封信给他们，告诉他们已经被提名参加全英格兰最平整郊区草坪竞赛。他们一听说提供奖金就马上出发了，或者他们认为他们就是冠军。”

　　哈利短暂想象了一下当维能姨父得知根本就没有什么全英格兰最平整郊区草坪竞赛时他的脸色会是什么样子。

　　“我们就要离开，是吗？”哈利问道，“很快吗？”

　　“几乎是马上，”卢平教授回答说，“我们只是在等待一切清理干净。”

　　“我们要去哪里呢？是巴罗吗。”哈利满怀希望的问道。

　　“不，不是巴罗，”卢平一边说话一边带着哈利往厨房走去，那一小队巫师在后面跟着，还在好奇的盯着哈利，“那太冒险。我们要前往某处无法侦测的指挥部。那需要一点时间。”

　　疯眼汉穆迪现在正坐在厨房的桌子上痛饮一只小水瓶里的饮料，他的魔眼向各个方向旋转，仔细打量着杜斯利一家苦心搜集的各种用具。

　　“这是穆迪，哈利，”卢平指着穆迪继续说道。

　　“是的，我知道，”哈利很不舒服的回答说。被介绍给一个他本来以为已经认识一年的人这种感觉相当古怪。

　　“而这位是尼姆菲朵拉—”

　　“别叫我尼姆菲朵拉，瑞莫斯，”这个年轻的女巫抖了一下，“我叫唐克丝。”

　　“尼姆菲朵拉· 唐克丝，只喜欢别人知道她姓氏的家伙，”卢平作了结尾。 “如果你愚蠢的妈妈给你取名叫尼姆菲朵拉你会怎么做啊，”唐克丝小声抱怨着。

　　“这位是肯斯雷·沙克雷波尔特，”卢平指着那个高个子的黑人巫师介绍道，而后者则鞠了一躬，“埃尔菲阿斯·道格，”那个气喘吁吁的老巫师点点头。“这位是德大流士·狄格尔—”

　　“我们以前曾经见过面的，”兴奋的狄格尔大声叫道，并同时摘下了他的紫色的高帽子。

　　“埃米兰·万斯。”这是一个披着祖母绿围巾的看上去很庄重的女巫，她点了一下头。“斯特吉斯·波德默。”一个有着麦杆色头发，方下巴的男巫眨了一下眼睛。“接下来是赫斯塔·琼斯。”一个粉红脸颊，黑色头发的女巫从穆迪旁边走出来。

　　在介绍每个人的时候哈利都笨拙的对他们点点头。他希望这些家伙能看点别的东西而不是一直盯着他，仿佛他突然变成了舞台上的小丑一样。他同时也很奇怪为什么有这么多人会在这里。

　　“数量惊人的巫师志愿前来接你，”卢平仿佛能够读懂哈利的想法，他的嘴角微微抽动了一下。

　　“是的，很好，但还会更好，”穆迪在黑暗中说道。“我们是你的保镖，波特。”

　　“我们现在仅仅是要等一个信号告诉我们可以安全离开，”卢平接着说道并飞快的向外扫了一眼厨房窗户，“我们大约需要15分钟才能到达那里。”

　　“这些麻瓜十分干净，不是吗？”说话的女巫叫唐克丝，她正以十分好奇的目光四处打量着这间厨房。“我的父亲是麻瓜血统，不过他是个十足的懒鬼。我想那是不同的，也许巫师天生不会干这些。”

　　“恩—是的，”哈利说道，“你看—”他背对着卢平，“接下来是什么，我没有从任何人那里听到任何消息，伏地魔怎么样了？”

　　几个巫师和巫婆发出了古怪的嘶嘶的噪音，德大流士·狄格尔再次脱下了自己的帽子，而穆迪吼道“闭嘴！”

　　“什么？”哈利问道。

　　“我们在这里不能讨论任何事情，太危险了，”穆迪将他那只正常的眼睛转向哈利并说道。他的魔眼仍然聚焦在天花板上，“诅咒它，”他把一只手放在魔眼上愤怒的补充道，“自从那个杂碎带过它之后—它就变的难以接受。”

　　然后随着一声类似潜水员被人从水池中拖出来时发出的令人厌恶的声音，他把魔眼掏了出来。

　　“穆迪，你知不知道那是令人讨厌的，”唐克丝极度不满的抗议道。

　　“给我一杯水好吗，哈利，”穆迪请求道。

　　哈利穿过洗碗机，拿出一只干净的杯子并到水池灌满水，那群巫师们依然在热切的看着他。他们无情的凝视已经开始困扰着哈利了。

　　“棒极了，”当哈利把杯子递给穆迪的时候他说道。穆迪将魔眼浸在水里，并且把它按的一沉一浮，这只魔眼飞快的旋转，从各个角度盯着他们。“在回去的路上我需要三百六十度的视野。”

　　“我们怎样回去—还有我们要去哪里？”哈利问道。

　　“乘坐扫帚，”卢平说道，“这是唯一的途径。你还太年轻不会瞬间移动，而他们又在监视着壁炉网络，同时设置一个手动的波奇（一种远距离自动传送装置）对我们而言毫无意义。”

　　“瑞莫斯说你是个优秀的快迪斯选手，”肯斯雷·沙克雷波尔特用他那低沉的嗓门说道。

　　“他是最棒的，”卢平一边检查着他的手表一边说道，“不管怎么说，你最好上去打包，哈利，等信号一来我们就得准备离开。”

　　“我来帮你，”唐克丝轻快的说。

　　她跟着哈利返回客厅并上了楼，一路上充满好奇与兴趣的四处张望。

　　“有趣的地方，”她说道，“就是有点太干净了。你知道我的意思吗？有点不太自然。哦，这样更好，”当他们进入哈利的卧室并打开灯时她补充道。

　　哈利的房间肯定要比其他的房间凌乱的多。四天以来他一直陷入一种非常糟糕的情绪当中，并把自己关在这间房间里面。哈利在时候不辞辛苦的把这里收拾整齐。他所拥有的绝大多数的书都杂乱的堆在地板上，他自己翻阅之后就随手扔到一边。海维的笼子也需要彻底清洁，现在已经开始散发气味了。他的旅行箱敞开着躺在一边，麻瓜的衣服和巫师的长袍乱七八糟的混在一起，而且地板上也到处都是。

　　哈利开始把书拣起来并匆忙的塞进箱子里。唐克丝则停在他的打开的衣柜前面，并且从镶在里面的玻璃中挑剔的看着自己的影象。

　　“你知道的，我并不认为紫色真正适合我，”她犹豫不决的说道，一边试图把她又长又尖的头发绑起来。“你认为它是否让我看上去有一点惹眼呢？”

　　“恩—”哈利边说边越过不列颠和爱尔兰快迪斯国家队的海报看着她。

　　“是的，就是这样，”唐克丝下了结论。她以一种紧张的表情闭上了眼睛仿佛正在努力回忆某样东西。一秒钟之后，她的头发变成了口香糖一样的粉红色。

　　“你是怎么办到的？”当唐克丝重新睁开眼睛的时候哈利惊奇的问道。

　　“我是一个变形者，”她从镜子里看着自己的影象，并且把头转来转去，这样她就能够从各个方向看见自己的头发。“这就意味着我可以随心所欲的改变自己的外貌，”她从镜子里看到了哈利迷惑的表情之后补充道，“我是天生的那一种。在傲罗（直接隶属魔法部的一个秘密组织，专门搜捕伏地魔的余党，成员都是些象疯眼汉穆迪这样强的变态的家伙）接受训练期间我的伪装项目得了最高分，可我完全没有学过，这是最棒的。““你是傲罗的成员吗？”哈利对此印象深刻。从霍格瓦彻毕业之后成为一个黑巫师猎手（傲罗组织当中专门负责抓捕黑巫师的人，疯眼汉穆迪是个典型，所以才会搞到五官残缺不全）是哈利曾经考虑过的唯一职业。

　　“是的，”唐克丝看起来很自豪，“肯斯雷也是，尽管他的魔力比我高一点。我是一年前才获准加入的。但是我在秘密行动和追踪方面完全失败。我笨的要死，你听见我们到达楼下的时候我打碎碟子的声音吗？”

　　“你知道怎样成为一个变形者吗？”哈利直视着唐克丝，完全忘记了收拾东西。

　　唐克丝吃吃的笑了。

　　“我敢打赌你有时候不会介意隐藏那道伤疤的，对吗？”

　　她的眼睛发现了哈利前额上的那道闪电形状的伤疤。

　　“不，我不介意，”哈利嘟噜道，他转身走开了。他不喜欢别人盯着他的伤疤。

　　“好吧，我恐怕你得艰苦学习才行，”唐克丝说道，“变形者真的是非常稀少，他们都是天生的，而不是人为的。绝大多数的巫师都要依靠魔杖或者药剂才能改变其外形。但是我们想变就变。哈利，我想我们现在的任务是打包，”她看着周围凌乱的地板心虚的加上一句。

　　“哦，是的，”哈利又抓起几本书塞进箱子里。

　　“别犯傻了，打包的事情由我来做会快的多！”唐克丝叫起来，同时她的魔杖在地板上做了一个波浪形的长长的扫除动作。

　　书、衣服、望远镜以及几乎所有的东西都飞到了半空中，并且一股脑的飞进了旅行箱里。

　　“好象不是很整洁，”唐克丝走到旅行箱上方看着里面混乱的局面说道，“我的妈妈掌握了这个咒语的诀窍，她能够让物品整齐的落在合适的位置里—她甚至能够让短袜自己折叠—但是我从来就没有掌握她是怎么做的—那是一种快速轻打的动作—”唐克丝充满希望的快速轻打她的魔杖。

　　哈利的一只短袜做了一个虚弱无力的摇摆动作，然后噗的一声又落回到混乱的箱子顶端。

　　“哈，很好，”唐克丝砰的一声箱子盖关上了，“至少它们都装进去了。那个也需要做一点清洁。”她将魔杖指向海维的笼子。“斯科吉菲（咒语）。”几根羽毛和鸟粪消失了。“好的。这次做的更好—我从未花精力去记忆那些讨厌的家政咒语。好—所有东西都带上了吗？气锅？扫帚？哇！那是一根霹雳系列的扫帚—”

　　当他们坐在哈利右手拿着的扫帚上时，唐克丝的眼睛张大了。那是哈利的骄傲与快乐，一件来自天狼星的礼物，这是一把国际标准的快迪斯比赛用扫帚。

　　“我现在还在乘坐彗星260，”唐克丝羡慕的说道，“接下来，魔杖还在你的牛仔裤里吗？我们的屁股都安然无恙吗？好的，我们走。运动皮箱。”

　　哈利的旅行箱漂浮在空中几英寸的地方。唐克丝的魔杖就象是乐队指挥的指挥棒，唐克丝让旅行箱盘旋着穿过房间并在他们的前面出门，海维的笼子抓在她的左手。哈利手中攥着他的扫帚跟在唐克丝后面下楼了。

　　回到厨房时穆迪已经将他的眼睛装了回去，魔眼在清洁之后旋转的如此之快以至于哈利看着它的时候感到一阵恶心。肯斯雷·沙克雷波尔特和斯特吉斯·波德默正在检查微波炉，赫斯塔·琼斯则在一个抽屉里翻箱捣柜，当她过来的时候她还在对着一个土豆剥皮机笑个不停。卢平教授则正在写一封致杜斯利一家的信。

　　“棒极了，”卢平抬头看见唐克丝和哈利进来的时候说道。“我认为我们大约一分钟之后出发。我们也许应当出门到花园去做好准备。哈利，我留了一封信告诉你的姨父和姨妈不要担心—”

　　“他们不会担心的，”哈利说道。

　　“以及你是安全的。”“那只会让他们感到失望。”

　　“还有你将在明年再次见到他们。”

　　“我一定要再次见到他们吗？”

　　卢平笑了笑但是没有作任何回答。

　　“到这儿来，孩子，”穆迪粗暴的用魔杖把哈利引到他的面前，“我需要把你隐形。”

　　“你需要把我什么？”哈利焦急的说。

　　“隐身咒语，”穆迪说着举起了他的魔杖。“卢平说你曾经获得过一件隐身斗篷，但是当我们飞行的时候它没法使用，这个咒语可以更好的伪装你。你到这里来—”

　　穆迪重重的敲击着哈利的头，哈利有种奇怪的感觉，好象穆迪仅仅是在敲击一只鸡蛋。

　　冰冷的魔力从魔杖敲击点流向了哈利的身体。

　　“漂亮的小伙子，穆迪，“唐克丝一边看着哈利的肚子一边欣赏的说道。

　　哈利向下看看他的身体，或者确切的说曾经是他身体的那个东西，因为它现在看起来和原先一点也不象。它并非隐形的，而仅仅是把他身体后面的厨房的颜色和材质精确的贴到他的身体上。现在的哈利看上去就象一只人形变色龙。

　　“跟我来，”穆迪用魔杖打开了门。

　　他们全体走到外面并且踩在维能姨父精心护理的漂亮的草坪上。

　　“清晰的夜空，”穆迪咕噜道，他的魔眼正在对天堂进行扫描。“也许要搞些云来覆盖。好了，你，”他对着哈利叫道，“我们将要以紧密编队飞行。唐克丝在你的前面，你要紧紧的在后面跟着她，卢平在你下面遮住你，我将在你的后面，其他人在我们周围围成一圈。在任何情况下都不能破坏编队，明白吗？如果我们之中有人被杀—”

　　“我看起来象什么？”哈利担心的问道。但是穆迪没理他。

　　“其余人继续飞行，不要停下来，不要破坏编队。如果他们干掉了我们所有的人而你幸存下来，哈利，我们的后卫部队目前正在另一个地方集结待命，一直向东飞行他们会接应你的。”

　　“不要显得这么高兴，穆迪，哈利会认为我们并未意识到事态的严重，”唐克丝说着把哈利的旅行箱和海维的笼子全副武装的绑在扫帚上。（上面这几句可能是反话，意思是叫穆迪不要搞的紧张兮兮，免的哈利害怕。）

　　“我仅仅是告诉这孩子计划，”穆迪抱怨说，“我们的工作是把哈利安全的送到司令部，并且如果我们在这次行动中丧生—”（一只讨厌的老乌鸦，不是吗？）

　　“没人会死的，” 肯斯雷·沙克雷波尔特用他低沉平静的嗓音说道。 “爬上你们的扫帚，那是第一个信号！”卢平指着天空尖叫道。

　　在他们上方很高很高的地方，一棵明亮的红色信号弹已经在夜空中闪烁，哈利立刻认出那是魔杖信号弹。他把右脚跨过他的霹雳扫帚，轻轻的抓住把手，他感到扫帚也在微微震动，好象渴望和哈利再次升到空中。

　　“第二个信号，我们出发！”当另一个绿色的信号弹在高空爆炸时卢平大声命令道。

　　哈利奋力踢了一下地面。当女贞路整洁的正方形草坪远去的时候，凉爽的夜风从哈利的头发间呼啸着吹过，草坪很快的缩小变成一个暗淡的绿黑相间的拼凑物，与此同时，所有关于魔法部听证会的各种想法都被抛诸脑后，仿佛呼啸而过的风已经将它们从哈利的脑子里吹了出来。他感到自己的心好象因为快乐而要爆炸了：他再一次的飞行，就象整个夏天他一直幻想的那样飞离女贞路，因为几个光荣的行动他现在要回家了，他所有的难题仿佛都在远去，在这个广阔，满布星辰的夜空下它们显得如此的无关紧要了。

　　“急转向左，急转向左，有个麻瓜在抬头看！”穆迪从后面叫道。唐克丝做了一个突然转向，而哈利在后面紧紧跟随，同时看见他的旅行箱在唐克丝的扫帚下面大幅晃动。“我们需要提升高度，爬升四分之一英里！”

　　当他们急剧上升时哈利的眼睛在寒冷中流泪了，现在下面除了车头灯和街灯微弱的闪光之外他什么也看不见。那些微弱的闪光有两只也许是属于维能姨父的汽车的，杜斯利一家现在应该马上就要回到那个空荡荡的家了，他们也许正在为那个子虚乌有的草坪比赛而勃然大怒，想到这里哈利不禁笑出声来，尽管他的声音很快就被其他人长袍鼓动的声音淹没了，当他们快速穿过空中的时候吱吱作响的风声传入耳朵。哈利在近一个月里从未感到如此的生气勃勃，或者说是快乐。

　　“方位正南！”穆迪叫道，“前面有个城镇。”

　　他们向右转弯以避免直接穿越下面象蜘蛛网一样闪闪发亮的灯光。

　　“方位东南，持续爬升，有几片低空云层在我们的前面，我们飞进去可以隐藏自己！”穆迪发出指示。

　　“我们不要穿越云层！”唐克丝恼火的叫道，“我们会被弄湿的，穆迪！”

　　听到她说这些话哈利放心了，他刚才紧张的握着霹雳扫帚把手以至于双手都渐渐麻木了。他希望他记得套件外套，现在他全身冷的发抖。

　　他们不时的按照魔眼的指示改变路线。哈利的眼睛因为强劲的冷风而睁不开，他的耳朵也开始疼痛起来，他可以记起这种寒冷的感觉以前只有过一次，那是在三年级的时候参加一场在暴风雪中举行的与哈夫罗普夫魔法学校之间的快迪斯比赛。那些围绕在他身边的保镖就象一群灰色的大鸟。哈利搞不清确切的时间。他很惊讶他们究竟飞了多长距离，感觉上至少过了一个小时。

　　“转向西南方！”穆迪叫道，“我们要避开铁路！”

　　哈利现在很冷，他渴想着下面暖和，干燥的汽车，然后，他甚至更加怀念用弗罗粉旅行的经历，也许在壁炉里转的晕头转向不是一件舒服的事情，但是至少在火焰里面是暖和的：肯斯雷·沙克雷波尔特突然猛扑向他的周围,月光反射之下他的光头和耳环微微发亮,现在是埃米兰·万斯在他的右边,她的魔杖已经掏了出来,左顾右盼,然后也从哈利的头上猛的扑过去·而她的位置则由斯特吉斯·波德默代替。

　　“我们应当向后转两圈，以确定我们没有被跟踪！”穆迪叫道。

　　“你疯了吗，穆迪？”唐克丝在前面大叫着，“我们都快在扫帚上冻僵了！如果我们这么做的话毫无疑问下个星期我们也到不了那里！而且，我们现在已经接近那里了！”

　　“是时候开始降落了！”卢平的喊叫声传过来。“跟着唐克丝，哈利！”

　　哈利跟着唐克丝俯冲向下。他们的前方是一片哈利所见过的最大的灯光网，一片巨大的，杂乱无章的灯光纵横交错，星星点点的散布在最深沉的黑暗之中。他们飞的越来越低，直到哈利可以看清楚单个的车头灯和街灯，以及烟囱和电视天线。他现在很想降落到地面上，尽管他确信