Chapter 4 Number Twelve,Grimmauld Place

‘What's the Order of the—?’ Harry began.

‘Not here, boy!’ snarled Moody. ‘Wait till we're inside!’

He pulled the piece of parchment out of Harry's hand and set fire to it with his wand-tip. As the message curled into flames and floated to the ground, Harry looked around at the houses again. They were standing outside number eleven; he looked to the left and saw number ten; to the right, however, was number thirteen.

‘But where's—?’

‘Think about what you've just memorised,’ said Lupin quietly.

Harry thought, and no sooner had he reached the part about number twelve, Grimmauld Place, than a battered door emerged out of nowhere between numbers eleven and thirteen, followed swiftly by dirty walls and grimy windows. It was as though an extra house had inflated, pushing those on either side out of its way. Harry gaped at it. The stereo in number eleven thudded on. Apparently the Muggles inside hadn't felt anything.

‘Come on, hurry,’ growled Moody, prodding Harry in the back.

Harry walked up the worn stone steps, staring at the newly materialised door. Its black paint was shabby and scratched. The silver doorknocker was in the form of a twisted serpent. There was no keyhole or letterbox.

Lupin, pulled out his wand and tapped the door once. Harry heard many loud, metallic clicks and what sounded like the clatter of a chain. The door creaked open.

‘Get in quick, Harry,’ Lupin whispered, ‘but don't go far inside and don't touch anything.’

Harry stepped over the threshold into the almost total darkness of the hall. He could smell damp, dust, and a sweetish, rotting smell; the place had the feeling of a derelict building. He looked over his shoulder and saw the others filing in behind him, Lupin and Tonks carrying his trunk and Hedwig's cage. Moody was standing on the top step releasing the balls of light the Put-Outer had stolen from the streetlamps; they flew back to their bulbs and the square glowed momentarily with orange light before Moody limped inside and closed the front door, so that the darkness in the hall became complete.

‘Here—’

He rapped Harry hard over the head with his wand; Harry felt as though something hot was trickling down his back this time and knew that the Disillusionment Charm must have lifted.

‘Now stay still, everyone, while I give us a bit of light in here,’ Moody whispered.

The others’ hushed voices were giving Harry an odd feeling of foreboding; it was as though they had just entered the house of a dying person. He heard a soft hissing noise and then old-fashioned gas lamps sputtered into life all along the walls, casting a flickering insubstantial light over the peeling wallpaper and threadbare carpet of a long, gloomy hallway, where a cobwebby chandelier glimmered overhead and age-blackened portraits hung crooked on the walls. Harry heard something scuttling behind the skirting board. Both the chandelier and the candelabra on a rickety table nearby were shaped like serpents.

There were hurried footsteps and Ron's mother, Mrs. Weasley, emerged from a door at the far end of the hall. She was beaming in welcome as she hurried towards them, though Harry noticed that she was rather thinner and paler than she had been last time he had seen her.

‘Oh, Harry, it's lovely to see you!’ she whispered, pulling him into a rib-cracking hug before holding him at arm's length and examining him critically. ‘You're looking peaky; you need feeding up, but you'll have to wait a bit for dinner, I'm afraid....’

She turned to the gang of wizards behind him and whispered urgently, ‘He's just arrived, the meeting's started.’

The wizards behind Harry all made noises of interest and excitement and began filing past him towards the door through which Mrs. Weasley had just come. Harry made to follow Lupin, but Mrs. Weasley held him back.

‘No, Harry, the meeting's only for members of the Order. Ron and Hermione are upstairs, you can wait with them until the meetings over, then we'll have dinner. And keep your voice down in the hall,’ she added in an urgent whisper.

‘Why?’

‘I don't want anything to wake up.’

‘What d'you—?’

‘I'll explain later, I've got to hurry, I'm supposed to be at the meeting— I'll just show you where you're sleeping.’

Pressing her finger to her lips, she led him on tiptoe past a pair of long, moth-eaten curtains, behind which Harry supposed there must be another door, and after skirting a large umbrella stand that looked as though it had been made from a severed troll's leg, they started up the dark staircase, passing a row of shrunken heads mounted on plaques on the wall. A closer look showed Harry that the heads belonged to house-elves. All of them had the same rather snout-like nose.

Harry's bewilderment deepened with every step he took. What on earth were they doing in a house that looked as though it belonged to the Darkest of wizards?

‘Mrs. Weasley, why—?’

‘Ron and Hermione will explain everything, dear, I've really got to dash,’ Mrs. Weasley whispered distractedly. ‘There'—they had reached the second landing—'you're the door on the right. I'll call you when it's over.’

And she hurried off downstairs again.

Harry crossed the dingy landing, turned the bedroom doorknob, which was shaped like a serpent's head, and opened the door.

He caught a brief glimpse of a gloomy high-ceilinged, twin-bedded room; then there was a loud twittering noise, followed by an even louder shriek, and his vision was completely obscured by a large quantity of very bushy hair— Hermione had thrown herself on to him in a hug that nearly knocked him flat, while Ron's tiny owl, Pigwidgeon, zoomed excitedly round and round their heads.

‘HARRY! Ron, he's here, Harry's here! We didn't hear you arrive! Oh, how are you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless—but we couldn't tell you anything, Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn't, oh, we've got so much to tell you, and you've got things to tell us—the dementors! When we heard—and that Ministry hearing—it's just outrageous, I've looked it all up, they can't expel you, they just can't, there's provision in the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery for the use of magic in life-threatening situations—’

‘Let him breathe, Hermione,’ said Ron, grinning as he closed the door behind Harry. He seemed to have grown several more inches during their month apart, making him taller and more gangly looking than ever, though the long nose, bright red hair and freckles were the same.

Still beaming, Hermione let go of Harry, but before she could say another word there was a soft whooshing sound and something white soared from the top of a dark wardrobe and landed gently on Harry's shoulder.

‘Hedwig!’

The snowy owl clicked her beak and nibbled his ear affectionately as Harry stroked her feathers.

‘She's been in a right state,’ said Ron. ‘Pecked us half to death when she brought your last letters, look at this—’

He showed Harry the index finger of his right hand, which sported a half-healed but clearly deep cut.

‘Oh, yeah,’ Harry said. ‘Sorry about that, but I wanted answers, you know....’

‘We wanted to give them to you, mate,’ said Ron. ‘Hermione was going spare, she kept saying you'd do something stupid if you were stuck all on your own without news, but Dumbledore made us—’

‘—swear not to tell me,’ said Harry. ‘Yeah, Hermione's already said.’

The warm glow that had flared inside him at the sight of his two best friends was extinguished as something icy flooded the pit of his stomach. All of a sudden—after yearning to see them for a solid month—he felt he would rather Ron and Hermione left him alone.

There was a strained silence in which Harry stroked Hedwig automatically, not looking at either of the others.

‘He seemed to think it was best,’ said Hermione rather breathlessly. ‘Dumbledore, I mean.’

‘Right,’ said Harry. He noticed that her hands, too, bore the marks of Hedwig's beak and found that he was not at all sorry.

‘I think he thought you were safest with the Muggles—’ Ron began.

‘Yeah?’ said Harry, raising his eyebrows. ‘Have either of you been attacked by dementors this summer?’

‘Well, no—but that's why he's had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing you all the time—’

Harry felt a great jolt in his guts as though he had just missed a step going downstairs. So everyone had known he was being followed, except him.

‘Didn't work that well, though, did it?’ said Harry, doing his utmost to keep his voice even. ‘Had to look after myself after all, didn't I?’

‘He was so angry,’ said Hermione, in an almost awestruck voice. ‘Dumbledore. We saw him. When he found out Mundungus had left before his shift had ended. He was scary.’

‘Well, I'm glad he left,’ Harry said coldly. ‘If he hadn't, I wouldn't have done magic and Dumbledore would probably have left me at Privet Drive all summer.’

‘Aren't you ... aren't you worried about the Ministry of Magic hearing?’ said Hermione quietly.

‘No,’ Harry lied defiantly. He walked away from them, looking around, with Hedwig nestled contentedly on his shoulder, but this room was not likely to raise his spirits. It was dank and dark. A blank stretch of canvas in an ornate picture frame was all that relieved the bareness of the peeling walls, and as Harry passed it he thought he heard someone who was lurking out of sight snigger.

‘So why's Dumbledore been so keen to keep me in the dark?’ Harry asked, still trying hard to keep his voice casual. ‘Did you—er—bother to ask him at all?’

He glanced up just in time to see them exchanging a look that told him he was behaving just as they had feared he would. It did nothing to improve his temper.

‘We told Dumbledore we wanted to tell you what was going on,’ said Ron. ‘We did, mate. But he's really busy now, we've only seen him twice since we came here and he didn't have much time, he just made us swear not to tell you important stuff when we wrote, he said the owls might be intercepted—’

‘He could still've kept me informed if he'd wanted to,’ Harry said shortly. ‘You're not telling me he doesn't know ways to send messages without owls.’

Hermione glanced at Ron and then said, ‘I thought that, too. But he didn't want you to know anything.’

‘Maybe he thinks I can't be trusted,’ said Harry, watching their expressions.

‘Don't be thick,’ said Ron, looking highly disconcerted.

‘Or that I can't take care of myself.’

‘Of course he doesn't think that!’ said Hermione anxiously.

‘So how come I have to stay at the Dursleys’ while you two get to join in everything that's going on here?’ said Harry, the words tumbling over one another in a rush, his voice growing louder with every word. ‘How come you two are allowed to know everything that's going on?’

‘We're not!’ Ron interrupted. ‘Mum won't let us near the meetings, she says we're too young—’

But before he knew it, Harry was shouting.

‘SO YOU HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU'VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN'T YOU? YOU'VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I'VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS’ FOR A MONTH! AND I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO'VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT— WHO SAVED THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR SKINS FROM THE DEMENTORS?’

Every bitter and resentful thought Harry had had in the past month was pouring out of him: his frustration at the lack of news, the hurt that they had all been together without him, his fury at being followed and not told about it: All the feelings he was half-ashamed of finally burst their boundaries. Hedwig took fright at the noise and soared off to the top of the wardrobe again; Pigwidgeon twittered in alarm and zoomed even faster around their heads.

‘WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM> COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME!’

Ron was standing there with his mouth half-open, clearly stunned and at a loss for anything to say, whilst Hermione looked on the verge of tears.

‘BUT WHY SHOULD I KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON? WHY SHOULD ANYONE BOTHER TO TELL ME WHAT'S BEEN HAPPENING?’

‘Harry, we wanted to tell you, we really did—’ Hermione began.

‘CAN'T'VE WANTED TO THAT MUCH, CAN YOU, OR YOU'D HAVE SENT ME AN OWL, BUT DUMBLEDORE MADE YOU SWEAR—’

‘Well, he did—’

‘FOUR WEEKS I'VE BEEN STUCK IN PRIVET DRIVE, NICKING PAPERS OUT OF BINS TO TRY AND FIND OUT WHAT'S BEEN GOING ON—’

‘We wanted to—

‘I SUPPOSE YOU'VE BEEN HAVING A REAL LAUGH, HAVEN'T YOU, ALL HOLED UP HERE TOGETHER—’

‘No, honest—’

‘Harry, we're really sorry!’ said Hermione desperately, her eyes now sparkling with tears. ‘You're absolutely right, Harry— I'd be furious if it was me!’

Harry glared at her, still breathing deeply, then turned away from them again, pacing up and down. Hedwig hooted glumly from the top of the wardrobe. There was a long pause, broken only by the mournful creak of the floorboards below Harry's feet.

‘What is this place, anyway?’ he shot at Ron and Hermione.

‘Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix,’ said Ron at once.

‘Is anyone going to bother telling me what the Order of the Phoenix—?’

‘It's a secret society,’ said Hermione quickly. ‘Dumbledore's in charge, he founded it. It's the people who fought against You-Know-Who last time.’

‘Who's in it?’ said Harry coming to a halt with his hands in his pockets.

‘Quite a few people—’

‘We've met about twenty of them,’ said Ron, ‘but we think there are more.’

Harry glared at them.

‘Well?’ he demanded, looking from one to the other.

‘Er,’ said Ron. ‘Well what?’

‘Voldemort!’ said Harry furiously, and both Ron and Hermione winced. ‘What's happening? What's he up to? Where is he? What are we doing to stop him?’

‘We've told you, the Order don't let us in on their meetings,’ said Hermione nervously. ‘So we don't know the details—but we've got a general idea—’ she added hastily, seeing the look on Harry's face.

‘Fred and George have invented Extendable Ears, see,’ said Ron. ‘They're really useful.’

‘Extendable—?’

‘Ears, yeah. Only we've had to stop using them lately because Mum found out and went berserk. Fred and George had to hide them all to stop Mum binning them. But we got a good bit of use out of them before Mum realised what was going on. We know some of the Order are following known Death Eaters, keeping tabs on them, you know—’

‘—some of them are working on recruiting more people to the Order—’ said Hermione.

‘—and some of them are standing guard over something,’ said Ron. ‘They're always talking about guard duty.’

‘Couldn't have been me, could it?’ said Harry sarcastically.

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Ron, with a look of dawning comprehension.

Harry snorted. He walked around the room again, looking anywhere but at Ron and Hermione. ‘So, what have you two been doing, if you're not allowed in meetings?’ he demanded. ‘You said you'd been busy.’

‘We have,’ said Hermione quickly. ‘We've been decontaminating this house, it's been empty for ages and stuff's been breeding in here. We've managed to clean out the kitchen, most of the bedrooms and I think we're doing the drawing room tomo—AARGH!’

With two loud cracks, Fred and George, Ron's elder twin brothers, had materialised out of thin air in the middle of the room. Pigwidgeon twittered more wildly than ever and zoomed off to join Hedwig on top of the wardrobe.

‘Stop doing that!’ Hermione said weakly to the twins, who were as vividly red-haired as Ron, though stockier and slightly shorter.

‘Hello, Harry’ said George, beaming at him. ‘We thought we heard your dulcet tones.’

‘You don't want to bottle up your anger like that, Harry, let it all out,’ said Fred, also beaming. ‘There might be a couple of people fifty miles away who didn't hear you.’

‘You two passed your Apparation tests, then?’ asked Harry grumpily.

‘With distinction,’ said Fred, who was holding what looked like a piece of very long, flesh-coloured string.

‘It would have taken you about thirty seconds longer to walk down the stairs,’ said Ron.

‘Time is Galleons, little brother,’ said Fred. ‘Anyway, Harry, you're interfering with reception. Extendable Ears,’ he added in response to Harry's raised eyebrows, and held up the string which Harry now saw was trailing out on to the landing. ‘We're trying to hear what's going on downstairs.’

‘You want to be careful,’ said Ron, staring at the Ear, ‘if Mum sees one of them again...’

‘It's worth the risk, that's a major meeting they're having,’ said Fred.

The door opened and a long mane of red hair appeared.

‘Oh, hello, Harry!’ said Ron's younger sister, Ginny, brightly. ‘I thought I heard your voice.’

Turning to Fred and George, she said, ‘It's no-go with the Extendable Ears, she's gone and put an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door.’

‘How d'you know?’ said George, looking crestfallen.

‘Tonks told me how to find out,’ said Ginny. ‘You just chuck stuff at the door and if it can't make contact the door's been Imperturbed. I've been flicking Dungbombs at it from the top of the stairs and they just soar away from it, so there's no way the Extendable Ears will be able to get under the gap.’

Fred heaved a deep sigh.

‘Shame. I really fancied finding out what old Snape's been up to.’

‘Snape!’ said Harry quickly. ‘Is he here?’

‘Yeah,’ said George, carefully closing the door and sitting down on one of the beds; Fred and Ginny followed. ‘Giving a report. Top secret.’

‘Git,’ said Fred idly.

‘He's on our side now,’ said Hermione reprovingly.

Ron snorted. ‘Doesn't stop him being a git. The way he looks at us when he sees us....’

‘Bill doesn't like him, either,’ said Ginny, as though that settled the matter.

Harry was not sure his anger had abated yet; but his thirst for information was now overcoming his urge to keep shouting. He sank on to the bed opposite the others.

‘Is Bill here?’ he asked. ‘I thought he was working in Egypt?’

‘He applied for a desk job so he could come home and work for the Order,’ said Fred. ‘He says he misses the tombs, but,’ he smirked, ‘there are compensations....’

‘What d'you mean?’

‘Remember old Fleur Delacour?’ said George. ‘She's got a job at Gringotts to eemprove ‘er Eeenglish—’

‘—and Bill's been giving her a lot of private lessons,’ sniggered Fred.

‘Charlie's in the Order, too,’ said George, ‘but he's still in Romania. Dumbledore wants as many foreign wizards brought in as possible, so Charlie's trying to make contacts on his days off.’

‘Couldn't Percy do that?’ Harry asked. The last he had heard, the third Weasley brother was working in the Department of International Magical Co-operation at the Ministry of Magic.

At Harry's words, all the Weasleys and Hermione exchanged darkly significant looks.

‘Whatever you do, don't mention Percy in front of Mum and Dad,’ Ron told Harry in a tense voice.

‘Why not?’

‘Because every time Percy's name's mentioned, Dad breaks whatever he's holding and Mum starts crying,’ Fred said.

‘It's been awful,’ said Ginny sadly.

‘I think we're well shot of him,’ said George, with an uncharacteristically ugly look on his face.

‘What's happened?’ Harry said.

‘Percy and Dad had a row,’ said Fred. ‘I've never seen Dad row with anyone like that. It's normally Mum who shouts....’

‘It was the first week back after term ended,’ said Ron. ‘We were about to come and join the Order. Percy came home and told us he'd been promoted.’

‘You're kidding?’ said Harry.

Though he knew perfectly well that Percy was highly ambitious, Harry's impression was that Percy had not made a great success of his first job at the Ministry of Magic. Percy had committed the fairly large oversight of failing to notice that his boss was being controlled by Lord Voldemort (not that the Ministry had believed it—they all thought Mr. Crouch had gone mad).

‘Yeah, we were all surprised,’ said George, ‘because Percy got into a load of trouble about Crouch, there was an inquiry and everything. They said Percy ought to have realised Crouch was off his rocker and informed a superior. But you know Percy, Crouch left him in charge, he wasn't going to complain....’

‘So how come they promoted him?’

‘That's exactly what we wondered,’ said Ron, who seemed very keen to keep normal conversation going now that Harry had stopped yelling. ‘He came home really pleased with himself—even more pleased than usual, if you can imagine that—and told Dad he'd been offered a position in Fudge's own office. A really good one for someone only a year out of Hogwarts—Junior Assistant to the Minister. He expected Dad to be all impressed, I think.’

‘Only Dad wasn't,’ said Fred grimly.

‘Why not?’ said Harry.

‘Well, apparently Fudge has been storming round the Ministry checking that nobody's having any contact with Dumbledore,’ said George.

‘Dumbledore's name is mud with the Ministry these days, see,’ said Fred. ‘They all think he's just making trouble saying You-Know-Who's back.’

‘Dad says Fudge has made it clear that anyone who's in league with Dumbledore can clear out their desks,’ said George.

‘Trouble is, Fudge suspects Dad, he knows he's friendly with Dumbledore, and he's always thought Dad's a bit of a weirdo because of his Muggle obsession.’

‘But what's that got to do with Percy?’ asked Harry, confused.

‘I'm coming to that. Dad reckons Fudge only wants Percy in his office because he wants to use him to spy on the family—and Dumbledore.’

Harry let out a low whistle.

‘Bet Percy loved that.’

Ron laughed in a hollow sort of way.

‘He went completely berserk. He said—well, he said loads of terrible stuff. He said he's been having to struggle against Dad's lousy reputation ever since he joined the Ministry and that Dad's got no ambition and that's why we've always been—you know—not had a lot of money, I mean—’

‘What?’ said Harry in disbelief, as Ginny made a noise like an angry cat.

‘I know,’ said Ron in a low voice. ‘And it got worse. He said Dad was an idiot to run around with Dumbledore, that Dumbledore was heading for big trouble and Dad was going to go down with him, and that he—Percy—knew where his loyalty lay and it was with the Ministry. And if Mum and Dad were going to become traitors to the Ministry he was going to make sure everyone knew he didn't belong to our family any more. And he packed his bags the same night and left. He's living here in London now.’

Harry swore under his breath. He had always liked Percy least of Ron's brothers, but he had never imagined he would say such things to Mr. Weasley.

‘Mum's been in a right state,’ said Ron dully. ‘You know—crying and stuff. She came up to London to try and talk to Percy but he slammed the door in her face. I dunno what he does if he meets Dad at work—ignores him, I s'pose.’

‘But Percy must know Voldemort's back,’ said Harry slowly. ‘He's not stupid, he must know your mum and dad wouldn't risk everything without proof—’

‘Yeah, well, your name got dragged into the row,’ said Ron, shooting Harry a furtive look. ‘Percy said the only evidence was your word and ... I dunno ... he didn't think it was good enough.’

‘Percy takes the Daily Prophet seriously,’ said Hermione tartly, and the others all nodded.

‘What are you talking about?’ Harry asked, looking around at them all. They were all regarding him warily.

‘Haven't—haven't you been getting the Daily Prophet?’ Hermione asked nervously.

‘Yeah, I have!’ said Harry.

‘Have you—er— been reading it thoroughly?’ Hermione asked, still more anxiously.

‘Not cover to cover,’ said Harry defensively. ‘If they were going to report anything about Voldemort it would be headline news, wouldn't it?’

The others flinched at the sound of the name. Hermione hurried on, ‘Well, you'd need to read it cover to cover to pick it up, but they—um—they mention you a couple of times a week.’

‘But I'd have seen—’

‘Not if you've only been reading the front page, you wouldn't,’ said Hermione, shaking her head. ‘I'm not talking about big articles. They just slip you in, like you're a standing joke.’

‘What d'you—?’

‘It's quite nasty, actually,’ said Hermione in a voice of forced calm. ‘They're just building on Rita's stuff.’

‘But she's not writing for them any more, is she?’

‘Oh, no, she's kept her promise—not that she's got any choice,’ Hermione added with satisfaction. ‘But she laid the foundation for what they're trying to do now.’

‘Which is what?’ said Harry impatiently.

‘OK, you know she wrote that you were collapsing all over the place and saying your scar was hurting and all that?’

‘Yeah,’ said Harry, who was not likely to forget Rita Skeeter's stories about him in a hurry.

‘Well, they're writing about you as though you're this deluded, attention-seeking person who thinks he's a great tragic hero or something,’ said Hermione, very fast, as though it would be less unpleasant for Harry to hear these facts quickly. ‘They keep slipping in snide comments about you. If some far-fetched story appears, they say something like, “A tale worthy of Harry Potter", and if anyone has a funny accident or anything it's, “Let's hope he hasn't got a scar on his forehead or we'll be asked to worship him next"—’

‘I don't want anyone to worship—’ Harry began hotly.

‘I know you don't,’ said Hermione quickly, looking frightened. ‘I know, Harry. But you see what they're doing? They want to turn you into someone nobody will believe. Fudge is behind it, I'll bet anything. They want wizards on the street to think you're just some stupid boy who's a bit of a joke, who tells ridiculous tall stories because he loves being famous and wants to keep it going.’

‘I didn't ask— I didn't want— Voldemort killed my parents!’ Harry spluttered. ‘I got famous because he murdered my family but couldn't kill me! Who wants to be famous for that? Don't they think I'd rather it'd never—’

‘We know, Harry,’ said Ginny earnestly.

‘And of course, they didn't report a word about the dementors attacking you,’ said Hermione. ‘Someone's told them to keep that quiet. That should've been a really big story, out-of-control dementors. They haven't even reported that you broke the International Statute of Secrecy. We thought they would, it would be in so well with this image of you as some stupid show-off. We think they're biding their time until you're expelled, then they're really going to go to town— I mean, if you're expelled, obviously,’ she went on hastily. ‘You really shouldn't be, not if they abide by their own laws, there's no case against you.’

They were back on the hearing and Harry did not want to think about that. He cast around for another change of subject, but was saved the necessity of finding one by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs.

‘Uh oh.’

Fred gave the Extendable Ear a hearty tug; there was another loud crack and he and George vanished. Seconds later, Mrs. Weasley appeared in the bedroom doorway.

‘The meeting's over, you can come down and have dinner now. Everyone's dying to see you, Harry. And who's left all those Dungbombs outside the kitchen door?’

‘Crookshanks,’ said Ginny unblushingly. ‘He loves playing with them.’

‘Oh,’ said Mrs Weasley, ‘I thought it might have been Kreacher, he keeps doing odd things like that. Now don't forget to keep your voices down in the hall. Ginny, your hands are filthy, what have you been doing? Go and wash them before dinner, please....’

Ginny grimaced at the others and followed her mother out of the room, leaving Harry alone with Ron and Hermione. Both of them were watching him apprehensively, as though they feared he would start shouting again now that everyone else had gone. The sight of them looking so nervous made him feel slightly ashamed.

‘Look...’ he muttered, but Ron shook his head, and Hermione said quietly, ‘We knew you'd be angry, Harry, we really don't blame you, but you've got to understand, we did try to persuade Dumbledore—’

‘Yeah, I know,’ said Harry grudgingly.

He cast around for a topic that didn't involve his headmaster, because the very thought of Dumbledore made Harry's insides burn with anger again.

‘Who's Kreacher?’ he asked.

‘The house-elf who lives here,’ said Ron. ‘Nutter. Never met one like him.’

Hermione frowned at Ron.

‘He's not a nutter, Ron—’

‘His life's ambition is to have his head cut off and stuck up on plaque just like his mother,’ said Ron irritably. ‘Is that normal, Hermione?’

‘Well—well, if he is a bit strange, it's not his fault—’

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry.

‘Hermione still hasn't given up on spew.’

‘It's not “spew"!’ said Hermione heatedly. ‘It's the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. And it's not just me, Dumbledore says we should be kind to Kreacher too—’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ said Ron. ‘C'mon, I'm starving.’

He led the way out of the door and on to the landing, but before they could descend the stairs— ‘Hold it!’ Ron breathed, flinging out an arm to stop Harry and Hermione walking any further. ‘They're still in the hall, we might be able to hear something—’

The three of them looked cautiously over the banisters. The gloomy hallway below was packed with witches and wizards, including all of Harry's guard. They were whispering excitedly together. In the very centre of the group Harry saw the dark, greasy-haired head and prominent nose of his least favourite teacher at Hogwarts, Professor Snape. Harry leant further over the banisters. He was very interested in what Snape was doing for the Order of the Phoenix....

A thin piece of flesh-coloured string descended in front of Harry's eyes. Looking up, he saw Fred and George on the landing above, cautiously lowering the Extendable Ear towards the dark knot of people below. A moment later, however, they all began to move towards the front door and out of sight.

‘Dammit,’ Harry heard Fred whisper, as he hoisted the Extendable Ear back up again.

They heard the front door open, then close.

‘Snape never eats here,’ Ron told Harry quietly. ‘Thank God. C'mon.’

‘And don't forget to keep your voice down in the hall, Harry,’ Hermione whispered.

As they passed the row of house-elf heads on the wall, they saw Lupin, Mrs. Weasley, and Tonks at the front door, magically sealing its many locks and bolts behind those who had just left.

‘We're eating down in the kitchen,’ Mrs. Weasley whispered, meeting them at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Harry, dear, if you'll just tiptoe across the hall it's through this door here—’

CRASH.

‘Tonks!’ cried Mrs. Weasley in exasperation, turning to look behind her.

‘I'm sorry!’ wailed Tonks, who was lying flat on the floor. ‘It's that stupid umbrella stand, that's the second time I've tripped over—’

But the rest of her words were drowned by a horrible, ear-splitting, blood-curdling screech.

The moth-eaten velvet curtains Harry had passed earlier had flown apart, but there was no door behind them. For a split second, Harry thought he was looking through a window, a window behind which an old woman in a black cap was screaming and screaming as though she were being tortured—then he realised it was simply a life-size portrait, but the most realistic, and the most unpleasant, he had ever seen in his life.

The old woman was drooling, her eyes were rolling, the yellowing skin of her face stretched taut as she screamed, and all along the hall behind them, the other portraits awoke and began to yell, too, so that Harry actually screwed up his eyes at the noise and clapped his hands over his ears.

Lupin and Mrs Weasley darted forward and tried to tug the curtains shut over the old woman, but they would not close and she screeched louder than ever, brandishing clawed hands as though trying to tear at their faces.

‘Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers—’

Tonks apologised over and over again, dragging the huge, heavy troll's leg back off the floor; Mrs. Weasley abandoned the attempt to close the curtains and hurried up and down the hall, Stunning all the other portraits with her wand; and a man with long black hair came charging out of a door facing Harry.

‘Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!’ he roared, seizing the curtain Mrs. Weasley had abandoned.

The old woman's face blanched.

‘Yoooou!’ she howled, her eyes popping at the sight of the man. ‘Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!’

‘I said—shut—UP!’ roared the man, and with a stupendous effort he and Lupin managed to force the curtains closed again.

The old woman's screeches died and an echoing silence tell. Panting slightly and sweeping his long dark hair out of his eyes, Harry's godfather Sirius turned to face him.

‘Hello, Harry,’ he said grimly, ‘I see you've met my mother.’

“什么是某某指令—？”哈利开始提问。

　　“不是这里，孩子！”穆迪叫道，“等在这里直到我们进去为止。”他把那张羊皮纸从哈利的手里抽出来并用魔杖将其点燃。当那张纸条在火焰中卷曲并且飘到地面上的时候，哈利再次看了看周围的房子。他们现在正站在11号的外面，他看看左边是10号，然后看看右边，却是13号。

　　“但是哪里才是—”

　　“努力回想你刚刚记住的东西，”卢平平静的说。

　　哈利开始回想，不久他就到达了格里曼迪街12号的地方，除了一扇被敲碎的门现在出现在11号与13号之间以外，其余部分都是肮脏的外墙和污秽的窗户。无论这些东西从外面哪个方向看，都象是另外一家多出来的部分。哈利对着它打了一个哈欠。11号房家中的音箱轰隆作响。很显然住在里面的麻瓜什么也感觉不到。

　　穆迪在后面推着哈利并大声叫道：“快过来。”

　　哈利走上旧的台阶，眼睛死死盯着那道新多出来的大门。它的黑色油漆已经破烂不堪并且满布刮痕。银色的门把手已经扭曲成了一个蛇形。在大门上既没有钥匙孔也没有信箱。卢平掏出魔杖敲了大门一次。哈利听见大门发出一阵响亮的，金属质感的卡嗒声，听起来好象是一条金属链子发出的声音。大门吱吱作响的打开了。

　　“快进去吧，哈利，”卢平小声说道，“但是不要过分深入并且不要碰任何东西。”

　　哈利走进了几乎完全黑暗的大厅。他能够闻见一种潮湿而多灰尘，并且带有腐败的甜味相混合的气味，这个地方给人的感觉就象一个已经被人遗弃的建筑物。他从肩膀往后看去，其他人整齐的跟在他的后面，卢平和唐克丝手里拿着他的旅行箱以及海维的笼子。穆迪站在最上面一层台阶上，并且正在用那个打火机恢复外面被熄灭的街灯，光线飞回了灯泡里，在穆迪一瘸一拐的走进来并关上大门之前，那个小广场又立刻重新笼罩在一片橘黄色的光线之中，而穆迪已经关上了大门，所以这个大厅就变得完全黑暗了。

　　“这里—”

　　他又用魔杖重重的拍了一下哈利的头，这次哈利感觉好象又一股热流在他的背上流过，他知道那个所谓的隐身魔法（就是那个把哈利变成一只人形变色龙的魔法）已经解除了。

　　“所有人听着，当我给大家一点光线的时候，大家站着别动，”穆迪小声说道。

　　其他人的沉默不语给了哈利一种古怪的预感，好象他们进入了一个垂死之人的房间。他听见了一阵柔和的嘶嘶声，然后所有墙壁上的老式汽灯都亮了起来，将一束忽明忽暗，很不稳定的光线投射在斑驳的墙纸上，并且照射出一条铺着破旧地毯的，长而黑暗的走廊，在走廊的顶上有一盏满布蜘蛛网的树形装饰灯在闪烁，还有年代久远已经发黑的肖像画挂在弯弯曲曲的墙壁上。哈利听见在身后的壁脚板处有某种打开阀门的声音。无论是那个树形装饰灯，还是放在附近一张摇摇晃晃的桌子上的枝状大烛台，其形状都象是一条大毒蛇。

　　远处传来一阵匆忙的脚步声，罗恩的母亲，威斯里太太从大厅最尽头的一扇门后面出现了。她的脸上洋溢着欢迎的喜悦匆匆的跑向哈利，可是哈利发现她比上次见到的时候更加的消瘦和苍白。

　　“哦，哈利，真高兴见到你！”她小声说道并给了哈利一个几乎能把肋骨勒断的拥抱，然后抓着他的手臂挑剔的检查着。“你看上去更加消瘦了，你要加强营养，但是我恐怕你要等一下才能吃到晚饭了。”

　　她转身向着哈利身后的那帮巫师们小声而急切的说道：“他刚刚抵达，会议已经开始了。”

　　哈利身后的巫师们发出了一阵兴趣和兴奋交加的嘈杂声，并且整齐的排队越过哈利走向威斯里太太刚刚出现的那扇门。哈利想要跟上卢平，但是威斯里太太把他拉了回来。

　　“不，哈利，这个会议只有指令成员才可以参加。罗恩与荷米恩在楼上，你可以等着他们直到会议结束，然后我们就吃晚饭。在大厅里尽量压低声音，”她最后又以一种急切的耳语补充道。

　　“为什么？”

　　“我不想吵醒任何东西。”

　　“你会吵醒什么—？”

　　“我以后会向你解释的，我得赶快走，我要去参加会议—现在我只给你指出睡觉的地方。”

　　把手指压在嘴唇上，她带着哈利蹑手蹑脚的通过了一对长长的，长满蛀虫的窗帘，在窗帘的后面哈利猜想肯定还有一扇门。然后在绕过了一个巨大的看上去象是几根巨人腿构成的伞架之后，他们走上了黑暗的楼梯，经过了一排裱糊在墙上作为装饰的缩小的头状物体。再靠近一些哈利发现这些头颅属于房屋小精灵。他们都有着猪嘴一样的鼻子。

　　每前进一步哈利的迷惑都更深了。

　　他们究竟在这个房子里做了什么，以至于这个地方看起来更象是属于最黑暗的巫师们？

　　“威斯里太太，为什么—？”

　　“罗恩与荷米恩会向你解释一切的，亲爱的，我真的要赶快走了，”威斯里太太小声说道，“那里—他们已经到了第二层，—你的房间在右边。会议结束的时候我来叫你。”

　　然后她就再次急匆匆的下楼去了。

　　哈利穿过了黑暗的楼梯平台，转动了门把手，这个门把手的形状也象是一条大毒蛇的头，并且打开了房门。

　　他简单的巡视了一下阴沉而高耸的天花板，这是一个双人间，然后他听见里面发出一阵响亮的唧唧喳喳的噪音，接着是一声更加响亮的尖叫，随后哈利的视线就被一张巨大的，有着大量浓密头发的脸占据了。荷米恩冲上来给了哈利一个拥抱，几乎把他撞到了地上，而与此同时罗恩的小猫头鹰小猪兴奋的在他们的头顶上盘旋。“快点！罗恩，他在这里，哈利在这里！我们没听说他要来！哦，你怎么样？你还好吧？你会对我们发脾气吗？我打赌你会的，我知道我们信毫无用处—因为我们不能告诉你任何事情—丹伯多（霍格瓦彻的校长）要我们发誓什么也不能说，哦，我们有很多事十分渴望能告诉你，而且你也有很多事情和我们说吧—那些该死的摄魂怪！当我们听说—当然是魔法部听说的—那真是太残忍了，我对着他们直翻白眼，他们不能开除你，他们就是不能，在那个未成年人巫术限制条例里面有条款规定在生命受到威胁的情况下允许使用魔法—”

　　“让他喘口气吧，荷米恩，”当关上哈利身后的门时罗恩微笑着说。在他们分别的一个月里他看来又长高了几英寸，这使他看上去比过去更加瘦长了，但是他的长鼻子，鲜红的头发和脸上的雀斑还是和过去一样。荷米恩仍然喜气洋洋，她放开了哈利，但是在她没来得及说出下一个字之前传来了一阵柔和的呼啸声，有个白色的东西从黑暗的衣柜顶部猛冲下来并且轻轻的落在了哈利的肩头。

　　“海维！”

　　当哈利抚摩着它的羽毛的时候这只浑身雪白的猫头鹰磕着它的嘴并且亲切的轻咬着哈利的耳朵。

　　“它干的真棒，”罗恩说道，“当它带来你的最后一封信的时候我们被它啄的半死，看看这个—”

　　他给哈利看了自己的右手食指，虽然已经是半愈合状态，但是很明显伤口很深。

　　“哦，是的，”哈利说道，“我很抱歉，但是我渴望答复，你知道的—”

　　“我也想给你答复，伙计，”罗恩说道。

　　“荷米恩正在请求宽恕，她一直担心如果你得不到任何回复会干傻事，但是丹伯多让我们…”

　　“发誓不要告诉我，”哈利说道，“荷米恩已经告诉我了。”

　　看见了两个最好的朋友，哈利感到一股暖流在身体里伸展，仿佛他干瘪的胃里的某种冰冷感也随之消失了。一切都来的那么突然，在经过了一个月的想念之后，他宁愿罗恩和荷米恩让他一个人待着。

　　当哈利无意识的抚摩着海维的时候出现了一阵紧张的寂静，哈利没有看着另外两个人。

　　“他看起来认为这么做是最好的，”荷米恩呼吸困难的说道，“我指的是丹伯多。”

　　“正确，”哈利说道。他注意到荷米恩的手上同样有着海维的硬嘴留下的记号，但是他发现他对此毫无歉意。

　　“我认为丹伯多觉得你和麻瓜亲戚待在一起是最安全的—”罗恩开口说道。

　　“是吗？”哈利的眉毛抬了起来，“这个夏天你们之中有谁被摄魂怪袭击了吗？”

　　“是的，没有，可是那正是为什么他要派遣凤凰指令的成员全天跟踪你的原因—”

　　哈利感到在他的腿有一阵剧烈的摇晃，仿佛他刚刚下楼时踩空了一级台阶。因此所有人都知道他被跟踪，只是除了他自己。

　　“但是，他们干的并不好，是吗？”哈利尽了最大的努力使自己的声音平静，“毕竟还是要自己照顾自己，不是吗？”

　　“他是如此的恼火，”荷米恩用一种几乎敬畏的口气说道，“丹伯多。我们看见他了。当他发现蒙顿格斯在交班之前擅离职守的时候，他几乎惊慌失措。”

　　“好了，我很高兴他擅离职守，”哈利冷淡的说道，“如果他没有擅离职守我也许就不会使用魔法，那么丹伯多可能整个夏天都把我扔在女贞路。”

　　“你不是，你不是一直在担心魔法部的听证会吗？”荷米恩平静的问道。

　　“不，”哈利挑战性的撒谎道。他离开他们，四处打量，海维在他的肩头舒服而满足的站着，但是这个房间看来并不合适他净化灵魂。它又潮湿又黑暗。一块白色的帆布镶在一只装饰精美的镜框里，到处都裸露出剥离的墙面，当哈利经过的时候他认为他听见有东西潜伏在视线之外，偷偷的笑着。

　　“那么为什么丹伯多如此渴望把我扔进黑暗里呢？”

　　哈利仍然在尽力保持着不经意的口气问道，“你们—嗯—完全没有问过他吗？”

　　他正好扫了一眼，并且发现他们交换了一下眼神，这告诉哈利他现在的行为正是他们害怕发生的。这一点也不能让他改善情绪。

　　“我们告诉丹伯多我们想要告诉你正在进行的行动，”罗恩说道，“我们试过，伙计。但是他现在真的很忙，自从我们来这里之后我们仅仅见过他两次，而且他也没有太多的时间，他只是要我们发誓在写信的时候不要告诉你任何重要的信息，他说猫头鹰也许会被中途截留。”

　　“如果他愿意的话，他还是可以通知我的，”哈利简洁的说，“你们不要告诉我，他不知道任何不用猫头鹰传递信息的方法。”

　　荷米恩盯着罗恩然后说道：“我也这么想过。可是他就是不愿你知道任何事情。”

　　“也许他认为我不可信任，”哈利一边看着他们的表情一边说道。

　　“别这么想，”罗恩看起来十分惊慌。

　　“或者是我照顾不了我自己。”

　　“他当然不会这样认为，”荷米恩紧张的说。

　　“因此接下来的问题就是为什么我必须待在杜斯利家里，而你们两个人却能够参与在这里进行的每一件事？”哈利说道，这些单词一个接一个的冲口而出，每说一个单词他的嗓门就更大一些，“为什么你们两个被允许知道这里发生的每一件事？”

　　“我们没有！”罗恩打断了哈利的话，“妈妈不让我们接触会议，她说我们太年轻—”

　　但是在他了解之前，哈利就已经叫起来。

　　“因此你就没有参加会议，亲爱的！可是你仍然待在这里，不是吗？你们仍然在一起！我，我却被扔在杜斯利家里一个月！并且我应付问题的能力比你们两个还要出色，而丹伯多也知道这一点—是谁拯救了魔法石？是谁揭开了密室之谜？又是谁从摄魂怪手下救出了你们两个？”

　　在过去的一个月里每一点的痛苦和愤怒都爆发出来，他对于缺乏信息的愤怒，他们在一起而抛下他的伤害，被跟踪而没有被告知的恼怒—所有这些令他羞耻的感觉，最后都冲破界限爆发出来。海维被这种咆哮声吓坏了，它重新飞回到衣柜顶上，小猪发出警告的喳喳声，并在他们的头上盘旋的更快了。

　　“去年是谁通过了巨龙、斯芬克斯还有其他一系列令人恶心的考验（详见第四部）？是谁看着伏地魔恢复？是谁从他手里逃脱？我！”

　　罗恩站在原地，嘴半张着，明显被吓到了，并且说不出任何话来，与此同时荷米恩看上去快要哭出来了。

　　“但是为什么我不应该知道正在进行的活动？为什么所有人都讨厌告诉我究竟发生了什么？”

　　“哈利，我们想告诉你，我们真的想—”荷米恩说道。

　　“你没有那么想，你能的，或者你们想给我送一只猫头鹰，但是丹伯多要你们发誓—”

　　“是的，他是这么做的—”

　　“四周以来我一直被扔在女贞路，翻箱倒柜的想要找出究竟发生了什么事—”

　　“我们想—”

　　“我猜你们只是想要嘲笑我，不是吗，就在这里你们一起来吧—““不，老实说—”

　　“哈利，我们真的很抱歉！”荷米恩拼命的叫道，她的眼睛里充满了泪水，“你是完全正确的，哈利—如果换成我的话，我也会勃然大怒的！”

　　哈利盯着她，依然大口呼吸，然后再次转身背对着他们，在房间里踱来踱去。海维在衣柜顶上阴沉的大声叫喊。房间里出现了一段长时间的停顿，唯一打破这种寂静的只有楼板在哈利脚下的悲鸣。

　　“不管怎么说，这是什么地方？”哈利冲着罗恩与荷米恩叫道。

　　“凤凰指令指挥部”罗恩立刻回答道。

　　“有人可以告诉我什么是凤凰指令—？”

　　“这是一个秘密组织，”荷米恩很快说道。

　　“丹伯多是这里的负责人，是他发起成立的。是最近为了对抗你知道的那个人的。”

　　“这个组织里面都有谁？”哈利把手插在口袋里停顿了一下说道。

　　“只有很少的几个人—”

　　“我们碰到的大概有二十个”罗恩说道，“不过我想应该更多。”

　　哈利盯着他们。

　　“还有呢？”他从一个看到另一个并询问道。

　　“嗯”罗恩说道，“还有什么？”

　　“伏地魔！”哈利狂暴的吼道，而罗恩与荷米恩都在向后退缩，“发生了什么事？他在干什么？他在哪里？我们做了什么事情来阻止他？”

　　“我已经告诉过你了，凤凰指令组织不让我们参加会议，”荷米恩神情紧张的说道，“因此我们不知道细节，但是我们有个大致的想法，”她看着哈利的脸很快补充道。

　　“弗来德和乔治（罗恩的两个哥哥）已经发明了顺风耳，你看，”罗恩说道，“它们真的很有用。”

　　“顺风—？”

　　“耳朵，是的。只是最近我们被禁止使用，因为妈妈发现了而且极为震怒。弗来德和乔治不得不把它们藏起来以防妈妈把它们没收。但是在妈妈意识到发生的事情之前我们用过一段时间。我们知道指令的某些成员正在跟踪一些著名的食死徒（指伏地魔的忠实信徒），对他们进行辨认，你知道的—”

　　“他们之中的某些人正在招募更多的人加入凤凰指令组织—”荷米恩说道。

　　“而且他们之中一些人还在严密守卫着某样东西，”罗恩说道，“他们总是在讨论守卫任务。”

　　“不会是我吧，会吗？”哈利讽刺的说道。

　　“哦，就是你，”罗恩的脸上满是终于了解的表情。

　　哈利对此嗤之以鼻。他又开始在房间里到处转，搜索着除了罗恩与荷米恩以外的任何地方，“那么，如果你们不被允许参加会议，那么你们两个是干什么的呢？”

　　“我们，”荷米恩很快答道，“我们负责清理这所房子，它已经荒废了很多年了，各种东西都在这里繁殖。我们已经尽力清理出了厨房，绝大多数的卧室，我认为明天应该清理客厅—”

　　随着两声巨响，罗恩的两个双胞胎哥哥，弗来德和乔治仿佛稀薄的空气一样出现在房间的中央。小猪叫的更大声了，现在它盘旋的范围把衣柜顶上的海维也包括进来。

　　“下次别这么干！”罗恩对着他的两个哥哥虚弱的说道，着两个家伙都有着和罗恩一样的鲜红头发，但是他们比罗恩更结实也稍稍更矮。

　　“你好，哈利，”乔治对着他高兴的说道，“我们认为听见了你愉快的声音。”

　　“你不用象那样控制你的愤怒，哈利，让他们全部爆发出来，”弗来德同样高兴的说道。“也许我们要在50英里外才有办法不听见你的声音。”

　　“那么你们两个通过标准巫师等级测试吗？”哈利气急败坏的问道。

　　“这是有区别的，”弗来德说道，他的手里拿着一样东西，看来象是一根相当长的，颜色鲜艳的带子。

　　“你从这里下楼至少要花费超过30秒的时间，”罗恩说道。

　　“时间有的是，小弟，”弗来德说道，“不管怎么说，你现在正在妨碍我们工作。顺风耳，”他回应着哈利抬起的眉毛大声叫道，同时拿起了哈利现在看见垂在地上的带子。“我们正在试图听见楼下正在干什么？”

　　“你们要小心，”罗恩盯着顺风耳说道，“如果妈妈再次看见它们—”

　　“冒险是值得的，他们正在召开的是一个主要会议，”弗来德说道。

　　房门又被打开了，出现了一头长长的鲜红头发，“哦，你好，哈利！”说话的是罗恩的妹妹金妮，她的脸上一片明亮，“我想我听见你的声音了。”

　　转向弗来德和乔治，她接着说道：“这里听不见—带着顺风耳走吧，妈妈在厨房的门上施展了消声咒语就离开了。”

　　“你是怎么知道的？”乔治看起来垂头丧气。

　　“唐克丝告诉我怎样识别那些门，”金妮说道，“我站在楼梯顶端用粪蛋丢门，可被弹开了，因此顺风耳没有办法从下面那个缝隙获得声音。”

　　弗来德发出了一声深深的叹息。

　　“惭愧啊。我真的想知道老斯内普在干些什么？”

　　“斯内普！（以对待哈利态度恶劣而著称的斯莱特林分院院长）”哈利很快的说道，“他也在这里吗？”

　　“是的，”乔治说道，他小心的靠近门口并坐在其中一张床上。弗来德和金妮跟着他。

　　“他正在提交一份报告。这是最高机密。”

　　“那个饭桶，”弗来德懒散的说道。

　　“他现在是我们这边的，”荷米恩责备的说道。

　　罗恩对荷米恩的论调嗤之以鼻。“不要阻止那个家伙成为一个饭桶。他看我们的时候与我们看他的方式是一回事。”

　　“比尔（罗恩的大哥，已经从霍格瓦彻毕业，在非洲替古灵阁工作）也不喜欢他，”金妮说道，好象这样就可以解决这个争端一样。

　　哈利不能肯定他的怒火已经缓和，但是他对信息的渴望现在压倒了继续吼叫的冲动。他背对其他人倒在了床上。

　　“比尔在这里吗？”他问道，“我想他现在正在埃及工作。”

　　“他申请了一份文书工作，因此他能够回来并且为凤凰指令工作。”弗来德说道，“他说他错过了金字塔，但是，”他傻笑道，“比尔认为这是有补偿的。”

　　“你是什么意思？”

　　“还记得那个老弗蕾儿·德拉克吗？”乔治说道，“她在恶魔银行格林高斯获得了一份工作”

　　“而现在比尔向她提供了很多私人课程，”弗来德吃吃的偷笑着。

　　“查理也在为凤凰指令工作，”乔治说道，“但是他仍然待在罗马尼亚。丹伯多想要招募尽可能多的外国巫师，因此这些天查理在努力与他们接触。”

　　“珀西（罗恩的三哥，哈利入学时是格兰芬多的级长）不能做这项工作吗？”哈利问道。他最后一次听见威斯里家老三的消息是说他正在为魔法部国际魔法合作处工作。

　　对于哈利的话，全体威斯里家族成员与荷米恩都交换了一个黯然失色的眼神。

　　“不管你干什么，不要在爸爸和妈妈面前提起珀西，”罗恩用一种紧张的口气告诉哈利。

　　“为什么不行？”

　　“因为每一次只要一提到珀西，爸爸手里无论拿着什么东西都一定会打碎，而妈妈就开始哭泣，”弗来德说道。

　　“那真是很糟糕，”金妮难过的说道。

　　“我想我们吓到他了，”乔治说道，从他的脸上到是看不出丝毫难看的特征。

　　“发生了什么事？”哈利问道。

　　“珀西和爸爸发生了激烈争吵，”弗来德说道，“我从没看见爸爸对任何其他人这样,而妈妈通常就是大喊大叫的。”

　　“那是学期结束后第一周发生的事情，”罗恩说道，“我们准备去加入凤凰指令。珀西跑来家里告诉我们他被晋升了。”

　　“你在开玩笑，”哈利说道。

　　尽管哈利很清楚珀西野心勃勃，他对珀西的印象只有他在魔法部里的第一份工作干的并不出色。珀西犯了个大错，他竟然没有察觉自己的上司已经被伏地魔控制了。（魔法部当然不会相信这个—他们只是认为克劳奇先生发疯了。）

　　“是的，我们也很惊讶，”乔治说道，“因为珀西卷入了和克劳奇有关的一系列麻烦之中，每件事都需要调查。他们说珀西应该意识到克劳奇的失控并且报告上级。但是你知道珀西的，克劳奇离开之后一切就由他负责，他居然就没了任何抱怨。”

　　“那么他们又怎么晋升了他呢？”

　　“那也正是我们疑惑不解的事情，”罗恩说道，看来在哈利停止咆哮之后他很渴望保持这种正常的谈话，“他是真正沾沾自喜的跑到我们家里—甚至比平常更高兴，如果你能想象到的话，—并且告诉爸爸他已经在法尼治（是个魔法大臣）本人的办公室里获得了一个职位。对于一个一年前刚刚离开霍格瓦彻的人来说这是个真正的好职位：成为魔法大臣的高级助手。我想他是希望给爸爸留下深刻印象。”

　　“可就是爸爸没有，”弗来德咬牙切齿的说。

　　“为什么没有？”哈利问。

　　“当然，很显然法尼治正在部里咆哮，要确定没人和丹伯多有过任何接触，”乔治说道。

　　“丹伯多的名字，这些日子象泥浆一样困扰着魔法部，”弗来德接着说，“他们都认为当他到处说着‘你知道谁回来了吗’这样的话的时候，仅仅是在制造麻烦。”

　　“爸爸告诉法尼治，他的意图很明显，那就是所有和丹伯多站在同一阵线的人都会从办公桌前扫地出门，”乔治说道。

　　“麻烦就是，法尼治怀疑爸爸，他知道爸爸是丹伯多的朋友，而且因为爸爸对麻瓜文化的兴趣，他总是认为爸爸有些古怪。”

　　“但是这和珀西有什么关系呢？”哈利完全糊涂了。

　　“我就要说到这里，爸爸确信法尼治将珀西招进自己办公室的唯一目的就是让他刺探我们家—以及丹伯多。”

　　哈利发出了一阵低低的咕噜声。

　　“但是珀西喜欢这个。”

　　罗恩用一种空洞的方式笑道。

　　“他完全疯了。他说—好的，他说了一大堆可怕的话。他说自从进入魔法部以来他就不得不和爸爸恶心的名誉做斗争。而且爸爸毫无野心，那就是为什么我们总是—你知道的—总是没有很多钱，我的意思是—”

　　“什么？”哈利难以置信的说道，而同时金妮发出了象只愤怒的小猫一样的噪音。

　　“我知道，”罗恩压低声音说。“还有更糟的。他说爸爸是个围着丹伯多打转的白痴，丹伯多是大麻烦的源头，而爸爸会和他一起掉下去，而他—珀西—知道他的忠诚该放在哪一边，他应该忠于魔法部。而且爸爸、妈妈要是想变成魔法部的叛徒的话，他想要所有人都知道他已经不再属于这个家庭。而他当晚就打包离开了。他现在住在伦敦。”

　　哈利的呼吸声中带着低低的诅咒。他在威斯里兄弟当中最讨厌珀西，但是他无论如何不能想象他会对威斯里先生说出这些话。

　　“妈妈做了正确的事情，”罗恩含糊的说到道，“你知道的—她又哭又说。她去了伦敦想和珀西谈一次，但是他当着妈妈的面把门摔上了。我不知道他和爸爸在工作时碰面会怎么样—我求你了，忘记他吧。”

　　“但是珀西肯定知道伏地魔已经回来了，”哈利慢慢的说，“他不蠢，他一定知道自己的父母没有证据是不会冒险的。”

　　“是的，很对，你的名字也被卷入这场争吵中，”罗恩给了哈利一个隐秘的眼神然后说道，“珀西说唯一的证据就是你的话……他说……他并不认为那有何可信之处。”

　　“珀西太相信每日先知报了，”荷米恩辛辣的讽刺道，其他人纷纷点头。

　　“他们说什么？”哈利看着他们问道。可是他们都小心翼翼的注视着他。

　　“你没有—没有看过每日先知报吗？”荷米恩紧张的问道。

　　“是的，我有！”哈利叫道。

　　“嗯—那么你把它读完了吗？”荷米恩仍然紧张的问道。

　　“从来没有一版一版的读，”哈利保守的说道，“如果他们要报道任何关于伏地魔的消息那肯定是在头版头条，不是吗？”

　　其他人在听到这个名字的时候都显得畏畏缩缩，荷米恩很快的说道，“你应该拿出来一版一版的读，不过他们—他们一个星期之内提过你两次。”

　　“但是我只看见—”

　　“不，如果你只是读首页的话你就看不见，”荷米恩摇摇头，“我们讨论的不是什么大文章。他们只是一笔带过，好象你在说笑话。”

　　“他们说什么？”

　　“那真的很丢人，”荷米恩用一种尽量平静的声音说道，“他们仅仅是建立在丽塔（在前作第四部书中她是最令人厌恶的每日先知报记者，会变成甲虫来探听他人隐私，并捏造事实）的素材的基础上。”

　　“但是她没有再写任何东西了，是吗？”

　　“哦，没有，她遵守了自己的约定—她没有任何的机会，”荷米恩满意的补充道，“但是她构筑的基础现在却由那些家伙在上面忙碌。”

　　“它说什么？”哈利不耐烦的问道。

　　“好吧，你知道她写过你全身都被压扁了，还说你的伤疤正在疼痛，还有其他的。”

　　“是的，”哈利回答道，想要很快的忘记那个该死的丽塔为他编造的故事是不可能的。

　　“现在他们把你写成了一个受到蛊惑的，倍受关注的人，你认为自己是一个伟大的悲剧式的英雄还是其他什么的。”荷米恩说的很快，好象她认为说的越