HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED RETURNS
‘In a brief statement on Friday night, Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge confirmed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned to this country and is once more active.

‘“It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizard styling himself Lord—well, you know who I mean—is alive and among us again,” said Fudge, looking tired and flustered as he addressed reporters. “It is with almost equal regret that we report the mass revolt of the dementors of Azkaban, who have shown themselves averse to continuing in the Ministry's employ. We believe the dementors are currently taking direction from Lord— Thingy.

‘“We urge the magician population to remain vigilant. The Ministry is currently publishing guides to elementary home and personal defence which will be delivered free to all wizarding homes within the coming month.”

‘The Minister's statement was met with dismay and alarm from the wizarding community, which as recently as last Wednesday was receiving Ministry assurances that there was “no truth whatsoever in these persistent rumours that You-Know-Who is operating amongst us once more.”

‘Details of the events that led to the Ministry turnaround are still hazy, though it is believed that He Who Must Not Be Named and a select band of followers (known as Death Eaters) gained entry to the Ministry of Magic itself on Thursday evening.

‘Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, reinstated member of the International Confederation of Wizards and reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, has so far been unavailable for comment. He has insisted over the past year that You-Know-Who is not dead, as was widely hoped and believed, but is recruiting followers once more for afresh attempt to seize power. Meanwhile, the “Boy Who Lived”—’

‘There you are, Harry, I knew they'd drag you into it somehow,’ said Hermione, looking over the top of the paper at him.

They were in the hospital wing. Harry was sitting on the end of Ron's bed and they were both listening to Hermione read the front page of the Sunday Prophet.Ginny, whose ankle had been mended in a trice by Madam Pomfrey, was curled up at the foot of Hermione's bed; Neville, whose nose had likewise been returned to its normal size and shape, was in a chair between the two beds; and Luna, who had dropped in to visit, clutching the latest edition of The Quibbler, was reading the magazine upside-down and apparently not taking in a word Hermione was saying.

‘He's the “boy who lived” again now, though, isn't he?’ said Ron darkly. ‘Not such a deluded show-off any more, eh?’

He helped himself to a handful of Chocolate Frogs from the immense pile on his bedside cabinet, threw a few to Harry, Ginny and Neville and ripped off the wrapper of his own with his teeth. There were still deep welts on his forearms where the brain's tentacles had wrapped around him. According to Madam Pomfrey, thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else, though since she had started applying copious amounts of Dr. Ubbly's Oblivious Unction there seemed to have been some improvement.

‘Yes, they're very complimentary about you now, Harry,’ said Hermione, scanning down the article. ‘“A lone voice of truth ... perceived as unbalanced, yet never wavered in his story ... forced to bear ridicule and slander ...”Hmmm,’ she said, frowning, ‘I notice they don't mention the fact that it was them doing all the ridiculing and slandering in the Prophet ...’

She winced slightly and put a hand to her ribs. The curse Dolohov had used on her, though less effective than it would have been had he been able to say the incantation aloud, had nevertheless caused, in Madam Pomfrey's words, ‘quite enough damage to be going on with'. Hermione was having to take ten different types of potion every day, was improving greatly, and was already bored with the hospital wing.

‘You-Know-Who's Last Attempt to Take Over, pages two to Jour, What the Ministry Should Have Told Us, page five, Why Nobody Listened to Albus Dumbledore, pages six to eight, Exclusive Interview with Harry Potter, page nine ...Well,’ said Hermione, folding up the newspaper and throwing it aside, ‘it's certainly given them lots to write about. And that interview with Harry isn't exclusive, it's the one that was in The Quibbler months ago ...’

‘Daddy sold it to them,’ said Luna vaguely, turning a page of The Quibbler.‘He got a very good price for it, too, so we're going to go on an expedition to Sweden this summer to see if we can catch a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.’

‘Hermione seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, then said, That sounds lovely.’

Ginny caught Harry's eye and looked away quickly, grinning.

‘So, anyway,’ said Hermione, sitting up a little straighter and wincing again, ‘what's going on in school?’

‘Well, Flitwick's got rid of Fred and George's swamp,’ said Ginny, ‘he did it in about three seconds. But he left a tiny patch under the window and he's roped it off—’

‘Why?’ said Hermione, looking startled.

‘Oh, he just says it was a really good bit of magic,’ said Ginny, shrugging.

‘I think he left it as a monument to Fred and George,’ said Ron, through a mouthful of chocolate. ‘They sent me all these, you know,’ he told Harry, pointing at the small mountain of Frogs beside him. ‘Must be doing all right out of that joke shop, eh?’

Hermione looked rather disapproving and asked, ‘So has all the trouble stopped now Dumbledore's back?’

‘Yes,’ said Neville, ‘everything's settled right back to normal.’

‘I s'pose Filch is happy, is he?’ asked Ron, propping a Chocolate Frog Card featuring Dumbledore against his water jug.

‘Not at all,’ said Ginny. ‘He's really, really miserable, actually ...’ She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘He keeps saying Umbridge was the best thing that ever happened to Hogwarts ...’

All six of them looked around. Professor Umbridge was lying in a bed opposite them, gazing up at the ceiling. Dumbledore had strode alone into the Forest to rescue her from the centaurs; how he had done it—how he had emerged from the trees supporting Professor Umbridge without so much as a scratch on him—nobody knew, and Umbridge was certainly not telling. Since she had returned to the castle she had not, as far as any of them knew, uttered a single word. Nobody really knew what was wrong with her, either. Her usually neat mousy hair was very untidy and there were still bits of twigs and leaves in it, but otherwise she seemed to be quite unscathed.

‘Madam Pomfrey says she's just in shock,’ whispered Hermione.

‘Sulking, more like,’ said Ginny.

‘Yeah, she shows signs of life if you do this,’ said Ron, and with his tongue he made soft clip-clopping noises. Umbridge sat bolt upright, looking around wildly.

‘Anything wrong, Professor?’ called Madam Pomfrey, poking her head around her office door.

‘No ... no ...’ said Umbridge, sinking back into her pillows. ‘No, I must have been dreaming ...’

Hermione and Ginny muffled their laughter in the bedclothes.

‘Speaking of centaurs,’ said Hermione, when she had recovered a little, ‘who's Divination teacher now? Is Firenze staying?’

‘He's got to,’ said Harry, ‘the other centaurs won't take him back, will they?’

‘It looks like he and Trelawney are both going to teach,’ said Ginny.

‘Bet Dumbledore wishes he could've got rid of Trelawney for good,’ said Ron, now munching on his fourteenth Frog. ‘Mind you, the whole subject's useless if you ask me, Firenze isn't a lot better ...’

‘How can you say that?’ Hermione demanded. ‘After we've just found out that there are real prophecies?’

Harry's heart began to race. He had not told Ron, Hermione or anyone else what the prophecy had contained. Neville had told them it had smashed while Harry was pulling him up the steps in the Death Room and Harry had not yet corrected this impression. He was not ready to see their expressions when he told them that he must be either murderer or victim, there was no other way ...

‘It is a pity it broke,’ said Hermione quietly, shaking her head.

‘Yeah, it is,’ said Ron. ‘Still, at least You-Know-Who never found out what was in it either— where are you going?’ he added, looking both surprised and disappointed as Harry stood up.

‘Er—Hagrid's,’ said Harry. ‘You know, he just got back and I promised I'd go down and see him and tell him how you two are.’

‘Oh, all right then,’ said Ron grumpily, looking out of the dormitory window at the patch of bright blue sky beyond. ‘Wish we could come.’

‘Say hello to him for us!’ called Hermione, as Harry proceeded down the ward. ‘And ask him what's happening about ... about his little friend!’

Harry gave a wave of his hand to show he had heard and understood as he left the dormitory.

The castle seemed very quiet even for a Sunday. Everybody was clearly out in the sunny grounds, enjoying the end of their exams and the prospect of a last few days of term unhampered by revision or homework. Harry walked slowly along the deserted corridor, peering out of windows as he went; he could see people messing around in the air over the Quidditch pitch and a couple of students swimming in the lake, accompanied by the giant squid.

He was finding it hard to decide whether he wanted to be with people or not; whenever he was in company he wanted to get away and whenever he was alone he wanted company. He thought he might really go and visit Hagrid, though, as he had not talked to him properly since he'd returned ...

Harry had just descended the last marble step into the Entrance Hall when Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle emerged from a door on the right that Harry knew led down to the Slytherin common room. Harry stopped dead; so did Malfoy and the others. The only sounds were the shouts, laughter and splashes drifting into the Hall from the grounds through the open front doors.

Malfoy glanced around—Harry knew he was checking for signs of teachers—then he looked back at Harry and said in a low voice, ‘You're dead, Potter.’

Harry raised his eyebrows.

‘Funny.’ he said, ‘you'd think I'd have stopped walking around ...’

Malfoy looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him; he felt a kind of detached satisfaction at the sight of his pale, pointed face contorted with rage.

‘You're going to pay,’ said Malfoy, in a voice barely louder than a whisper. ‘I'm going to make you pay for what you've done to my father ...’

‘Well, I'm terrified now,’ said Harry sarcastically. ‘I s'pose Lord Voldemort's just a warm-up act compared to you three—what's the matter?’ he added, for Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had all looked stricken at the sound of the name. ‘He's a mate of your dad, isn't he? Not scared of him, are you?’

‘You think you're such a big man, Potter,’ said Malfoy, advancing now, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him. ‘You wait. I'll have you. You can't land my father in prison—’

‘I thought I just had,’ said Harry.

‘The dementors have left Azkaban,’ said Malfoy quietly. ‘Dad and the others'll be out in no time ...’

‘Yeah, I expect they will,’ said Harry. ‘Still, at least everyone knows what scumbags they are now—’

Malfoy's hand flew towards his wand, but Harry was too quick for him; he had drawn his own wand before Malfoy's fingers had even entered the pocket of his robes.

‘Potter!’

The voice rang across the Entrance Hall. Snape had emerged from the staircase leading down to his office and at the sight of him Harry felt a great rush of hatred beyond anything he felt towards Malfoy ... whatever Dumbledore said, he would never forgive Snape . . . never ...

‘What are you doing, Potter?’ said Snape, as coldly as ever, as he strode over to the four of them.

‘I'm trying to decide what curse to use on Malfoy, sir,’ said Harry fiercely.

Snape stared at him.

‘Put that wand away at once,’ he said curtly. ‘Ten points from Gryff—’

Snape looked towards the giant hour-glasses on the walls and gave a sneering smile.

‘Ah. I see there are no longer any points left in the Gryffindor hour-glass to take away. In that case, Potter, we will simply have to—’

‘Add some more?’

Professor McGonagall had just stumped up the stone, steps into the castle; she was carrying a tartan carpetbag in one hand and leaning heavily on a walking stick with her other, but otherwise looked quite well.

‘Professor McGonagall!’ said Snape, striding forwards. ‘Out of St. Mungo's, I see!’

‘Yes, Professor Snape,’ said Professor McGonagall. shrugging off her travelling cloak, ‘I'm quite as good as new. You two—Crabbe—Goyle—’

She beckoned them forwards imperiously and they came, shuffling their large feet and looking awkward.

‘Here,’ said Professor McGonagall, thrusting her carpetbag into Crabbe's chest and her cloak into Goyle's, ‘take these up to my office for me.’

They turned and stumped away up the marble staircase.

‘Right then,’ said Professor McGonagall, looking up at the hourglasses on the wall. ‘Well, I think Potter and his friends ought to have fifty points apiece for alerting the world to the return of You-Know-Who! What say you, Professor Snape?’

‘What?’ snapped Snape, though Harry knew he had heard perfectly well. ‘Oh—well—I suppose ...’

‘So that's fifty each for Potter, the two Weasleys, Longbottom and Miss Granger,’ said Professor McGonagall, and a shower of rubies fell down into the bottom bulb of Gryffindor s hour-glass as she spoke. ‘Oh—and fifty for Miss Lovegood, I suppose,’ she added, and a number of sapphires fell into Ravenclaw's glass. ‘Now, you wanted to take ten from Mr. Potter, I think, Professor Snape—so there we are ...’

A few rubies retreated into the upper bulb, leaving a respectable amount below nevertheless.

‘Well, Potter, Malfoy, I think you ought to be outside on a glorious day like this,’ Professor McGonagall continued briskly.

Harry did not need telling twice; he thrust his wand back inside his robes and headed straight for the front doors without another glance at Snape and Malfoy.

The hot sun hit him with a blast as he walked across the lawns towards Hagrid's cabin. Students lying around on the grass sunbathing, talking, reading the Sunday Prophet and eating sweets, looked up at him as he passed; some called out to him, or else waved, clearly eager to show that they, like the Prophet, had decided he was something of a hero. Harry said nothing to any of them. He had no idea how much they knew of what had happened three days ago, but he had so far avoided being questioned and preferred to keep it that way.

He thought at first when he knocked on Hagrid's cabin door that he was out, but then Fang came charging around the corner and almost bowled him over with the enthusiasm of his welcome. Hagrid, it transpired, was picking runner beans in his back garden.

‘All righ', Harry!’ he said, beaming, when Harry approached the fence. ‘Come in, come in, we'll have a cup o’ dandelion juice ...

‘How's things?’ Hagrid asked him, as they settled down at his wooden table with a glass apiece of iced juice. ‘Yeh—er—feelin’ all righ', are yeh?’

Harry knew from the look of concern on Hagrid's face that he was not referring to Harry's physical well-being.

‘I'm fine,’ Harry said quickly, because he could not bear to discuss the thing that he knew was in Hagrid's mind. ‘So, where've you been?’

‘Bin hidin’ out in the mountains,’ said Hagrid. ‘Up in a cave, like Sirius did when he—’

Hagrid broke off, cleared his throat gruffly, looked at Harry, and took a long draught of juice.

‘Anyway, back now,’ he said feebly.

‘You—you look better,’ said Harry, who was determined to keep the conversation moving away from Sirius.

‘Wha?’ said Hagrid, raising a massive hand and feeling his face. ‘Oh—oh yeah. Well, Grawpy's loads better behaved now, loads. Seemed right pleased ter see me when I got back, ter tell yeh the truth. He's a good lad, really ... Ive bin thinkin abou tryin ter find him a lady friend, actually ...’

Harry would normally have tried to persuade Hagrid out of this idea at once; the prospect of a second giant taking up residence in the Forest, possibly even wilder and more brutal than Grawp, was positively alarming, but somehow Harry could not muster the energy necessary to argue the point. He was starting to wish he was alone again, and with the idea of hastening his departure he took several large gulps of his dandelion juice, half-emptying his glass.

‘Ev'ryone knows yeh've bin tellin’ the truth now, Harry’ said Hagrid softly and unexpectedly. He was watching Harry closely. ‘Tha's gotta be better, hasn’ it?’

Harry shrugged.

‘Look ...’ Hagrid leaned towards him across the table, ‘I knew Sirius longer ‘n yeh did ... he died in battle, an tha's the way he'd've wanted ter go—’

‘He didn't want to go at all!’ said Harry angrily.

Hagrid bowed his great shaggy head.

‘Nah, I don’ reckon he did,’ he said quietly. ‘But still, Harry ... he was never one ter sit aroun’ at home an’ let other people do the fightin'. He couldn've lived with himself if he hadn’ gone ter help—’

Harry leapt up.

‘I've got to go and visit Ron and Hermione in the hospital wing,’ he said mechanically.

‘Oh,’ said Hagrid, looking rather upset. ‘Oh ... all righ’ then, Harry ... take care o’ yerself then, an’ drop back in if yeh've got a mo ...’

‘Yeah ... right ...’

Harry crossed to the door as fast as he could and pulled it open; he was out in the sunshine again before Hagrid had finished saying goodbye, and walking away across the lawn. Once again, people called out to him as he passed. He closed his eyes for a few moments, wishing they would all vanish, that he could open his eyes and find himself alone in the grounds ...

A few days ago, before his exams had finished and he had seen the vision Voldemort had planted in his mind, he would have given almost anything for the wizarding world to know he had been telling the truth, for them to believe that Voldemort was back, and to know that he was neither a liar nor mad. Now, however ...

He walked a short way around the lake, sat down on its bank, sheltered from the gaze of passers-by behind a tangle of shrubs, and stared out over the gleaming water, thinking ...

Perhaps the reason he wanted to be alone was because he had felt isolated from everybody since his talk with Dumbledore. An invisible barrier separated him from the rest of the world. He was—he had always been—a marked man. It was just that he had never really understood what that meant ...

And yet sitting here on the edge of the lake, with the terrible weight of grief dragging at him, with the loss of Sirius so raw and fresh inside, he could not muster any great sense of fear. It was sunny, and the grounds around him were full of laughing people, and even though he felt as distant from them as though he belonged to a different race, it was still very hard to believe as he sat here that his life must include, or end in, murder ...

He sat there for a long time, gazing out at the water, trying not to think about his godfather or to remember that it was directly across from here, on the opposite bank, that Sirius had once collapsed trying to fend off a hundred dementors ...

The sun had set before he realised he was cold. He got up and returned to the castle, wiping his face on his sleeve as he went.

Ron and Hermione left the hospital wing completely cured three days before the end of term. Hermione kept showing signs of wanting to talk about Sirius, but Ron tended to make ‘hushing’ noises every time she mentioned his name. Harry was still not sure whether or not he wanted to talk about his godfather yet; his wishes varied with his mood. He knew one thing, though: unhappy as he felt at the moment, he would greatly miss Hogwarts in a few days’ time when he was back at number four, Privet Drive. Even though he now understood exactly why he had to return there every summer, he did not feel any better about it. Indeed, he had never dreaded his return more.

Professor Umbridge left Hogwarts the day before the end of term. It seemed she had crept out of the hospital wing during dinnertime, evidently hoping to depart undetected, but unfortunately for her, she met Peeves on the way, who seized his last chance to do as Fred had instructed, and chased her gleefully from the premises whacking her alternately with a walking stick and a sock full of chalk. Many students ran out into the Entrance Hall to watch her running away down the path and the Heads of Houses tried only half-heartedly to restrain them. Indeed, Professor McGonagall sank back into her chair at the staff table after a few feeble remonstrances and was clearly heard to express a regret that she could not run cheering after Umbridge herself, because Peeves had borrowed her walking stick.

Their last evening at school arrived; most people had finished packing and were already heading down to the end-of-term leaving feast, but Harry had not even started.

‘Just do it tomorrow!’ said Ron, who was waiting by the door of their dormitory. ‘Come on, I'm starving.’

‘I won't be long ... look, you go ahead ...’

But when the dormitory door closed behind Ron, Harry made no effort to speed up his packing. The very last thing he wanted to do was to attend the Leaving Feast. He was worried that Dumbledore would make some reference to him in his speech. He was sure to mention Voldemort's return; he had talked to them about it last year, after all ...

Harry pulled some crumpled robes out of the very bottom of his trunk to make way for folded ones and, as he did so, noticed a badly wrapped package lying in a corner of it. He could not think what it was doing there. He bent down, pulled it out from underneath his trainers and examined it.

He realised what it was within seconds. Sirius had given it to him just inside the front door of number twelve Grimmauld Place. ‘Use it if you need me, all right?’

Harry sank down on to his bed and unwrapped the package. Out fell a small, square mirror. It looked old; it was certainly dirty. Harry held it up to his face and saw his own reflection looking back at him.

He turned the mirror over. There on the reverse side was a scribbled note from Sirius.

This is a two-way mirror, I've got the other one of the pair. If you need to speak to me, just say my name into it; you'll appear in my mirror and I'll be able to talk in yours. James and I used to use them when we were in separate detentions.

Harry's heart began to race. He remembered seeing his dead parents in the Mirror of Erised four years ago. He was going to be able to talk to Sirius again, right now, he knew it—

He looked around to make sure there was nobody else there; the dormitory was quite empty. He looked back at the mirror, raised it in front of his face with trembling hands and said, loudly and clearly, ‘Sirius.’

His breath misted the surface of the glass. He held the mirror even closer, excitement flooding through him, but the eyes blinking back at him through the fog were definitely his own.

He wiped the mirror clear again and said, so that every syllable rang clearly through the room:

‘Sirius Black!’

Nothing happened. The frustrated face looking back out of the mirror was still, definitely, his own ...

Sirius didn't have his mirror on him when he went through the archway, said a small voice in Harry's head. That's why it's not working ...

Harry remained quite still for a moment, then hurled the mirror back into the trunk where it shattered. He had been convinced, for a whole, shining minute, that he was going to see Sirius, talk to him again ...

Disappointment was burning in his throat; he got up and began throwing his things pell-mell into the trunk on top of the broken mirror—

But then an idea struck him ... a better idea than a mirror ... a much bigger, more important idea ... how had he never thought of it before—why had he never asked?

He was sprinting out of the dormitory and down the spiral staircase, hitting the walls as he ran and barely noticing; he hurtled across the empty common room, through the portrait hole and off along the corridor, ignoring the Fat Lady, who called after him: ‘The feast is about to start, you know, you're cutting it very fine!’

But Harry had no intention of going to the feast ...

How could it be that the place was full of ghosts whenever you didn't need one, yet now ...

He ran down staircases and along corridors and met nobody either alive or dead. They were all, clearly, in the Great Hall. Outside his Charms classroom he came to a halt, panting and thinking disconsolately that he would have to wait until later, until after the end of the feast ...

But just as he had given up hope, he saw it—a translucent somebody drifting across the end of the corridor.

‘Hey—hey, Nick! NICK!’

The ghost stuck its head back out of the wall, revealing the extravagantly plumed hat and dangerously wobbling head of Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington.

‘Good evening,’ he said, withdrawing the rest of his body from the solid stone and smiling at Harry. ‘I am not the only one who is late, then? Though,’ he sighed, ‘in a rather different sense, of course ...’

‘Nick, can I ask you something?’

A most peculiar expression stole over Nearly Headless Nick's face as he inserted a finger in the stiff ruff at his neck and tugged it a little straighter, apparently to give himself thinking time. He desisted only when his partially severed neck seemed about to give way completely.

‘Er—now, Harry?’ said Nick, looking discomfited. ‘Can't it wait until after the feast?’

‘No—Nick— please,’ said Harry, ‘I really need to talk to you. Can we go in here?’

Harry opened the door of the nearest classroom and Nearly Headless Nick sighed.

‘Oh, very well,’ he said, looking resigned. ‘I can't pretend I haven't been expecting it.’

Harry was holding the door open for him, but he drifted through the wall instead.

‘Expecting what?’ Harry asked, as he closed the door.

‘You to come and find me,’ said Nick, now gliding over to the window and looking out at the darkening grounds. ‘It happens, sometimes ... when somebody has suffered a ... loss.’

‘Well,’ said Harry, refusing to be deflected. ‘You were right, I've—I've come to find you.’

Nick said nothing.

‘It's—’ said Harry, who was finding this more awkward than he had anticipated, ‘it's just— you're dead. But you're still here, aren't you?’

Nick sighed and continued to gaze out at the grounds.

‘That's right, isn't it?’ Harry urged him. ‘You died, but I'm talking to you ... you can walk around Hogwarts and everything, can't you?’

‘Yes,’ said Nearly Headless Nick quietly, ‘I walk and talk, yes.’

‘So, you came back, didn't you?’ said Harry urgently. ‘People can come back, right? As ghosts. They don't have to disappear completely. Well?’ he added impatiently, when Nick continued to say nothing.

Nearly Headless Nick hesitated, then said, ‘Not everyone can come back as a ghost.’

‘What d'you mean?’ said Harry quickly.

‘Only ... only wizards.’

‘Oh,’ said Harry, and he almost laughed with relief. ‘Well, that's OK then, the person I'm asking about is a wizard. So he can come back, right?’

Nick turned away from the window and looked mournfully at Harry.

‘He won't come back.’

‘Who?’

‘Sirius Black,’ said Nick.

‘But you did!’ said Harry angrily. ‘You came back—you're dead and you didn't disappear—’

‘Wizards can leave an imprint of themselves upon the earth, to walk palely where their living selves once trod,’ said Nick miserably. ‘But very few wizards choose that path.’

‘Why not?’ said Harry. ‘Anyway—it doesn't matter—Sirius won't care if it's unusual, he'll come back, I know he will!’

And so strong was his belief, Harry actually turned his head to check the door, sure, for a split second, that he was going to see Sirius, pearly-white and transparent but beaming, walking through it towards him.

‘He will not come back,’ repeated Nick. ‘He will have ... gone on.’

‘What d'you mean, “gone on"?’ said Harry quickly. ‘Gone on where? Listen—what happens when you die, anyway? Where do you go? Why doesn't everyone come back? Why isn't this place full of ghosts? Why—?’

‘I cannot answer,’ said Nick.

‘You're dead, aren't you?’ said Harry exasperatedly. ‘Who can answer better than you?’

‘I was afraid of death,’ said Nick softly. ‘I chose to remain behind. I sometimes wonder whether I oughtn't to have ... well, that is neither here nor there ... in fact, I am neither here nor there ...’ He gave a small sad chuckle. ‘I know nothing of the secrets of death, Harry, for I chose my feeble imitation of life instead. I believe learned wizards study the matter in the Department of Mysteries—’

‘Don't talk to me about that place!’ said Harry fiercely.

‘I am sorry not to have been more help,’ said Nick gently. ‘Well ... well, do excuse me ... the feast, you know ...’

And he left the room, leaving Harry there alone, gazing blankly at the wall through which Nick had disappeared.

Harry felt almost as though he had lost his godfather all over again in losing the hope that he might be able to see or speak to him once more. He walked slowly and miserably back up through the empty castle, wondering whether he would ever feel cheerful again.

He had turned the corner towards the Fat Lady's corridor when he saw somebody up ahead fastening a note to a board on the wall. A second glance showed him it was Luna. There were no good hiding places nearby, she was bound to have heard his footsteps, and in any case, Harry could hardly muster the energy to avoid anyone at the moment.

‘Hello,’ said Luna vaguely, glancing around at him as she stepped back from the notice.

‘How come you're not at the feast?’ Harry asked.

‘Well, I've lost most of my possessions,’ said Luna serenely. ‘People take them and hide them, you know. But as it's the last night, I really do need them back, so I've been putting up signs.’

She gestured towards the noticeboard, upon which, sure enough, she had pinned a list of all her missing books and clothes, with a plea for their return.

An odd feeling rose in Harry; an emotion quite different from the anger and grief that had filled him since Sirius's death. It was a few moments before he realised that he was feeling sorry for Luna.

‘How come people hide your stuff?’ he asked her, frowning.

‘Oh ... well ...’ she shrugged. ‘I think they think I'm a bit odd, you know. Some people call me “Loony” Lovegood, actually.’

Harry looked at her and the new feeling of pity intensified rather painfully.

‘That's no reason for them to take your things,’ he said flatly. ‘D'you want help finding them?’

‘Oh, no,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘They'll come back, they always do in the end. It was just that I wanted to pack tonight. Anyway ... why aren't you at the feast?’

Harry shrugged. ‘Just didn't feel like it.’

‘No,’ said Luna, observing him with those oddly misty, protuberant eyes. ‘I don't suppose you do. That man the Death Eaters killed was your godfather, wasn't he? Ginny told me.’

Harry nodded curtly, but found that for some reason he did not mind Luna talking about Sirius. He had just remembered that she, too, could see Thestrals.

‘Have you ...’ he began. ‘I mean, who ... has anyone you known ever died?’

‘Yes,’ said Luna simply, ‘my mother. She was a quite extraordinary witch, you know, but she did like to experiment and one of her spells went rather badly wrong one day. I was nine.’

‘I'm sorry,’ Harry mumbled.

‘Yes, it was rather horrible,’ said Luna conversationally. ‘I still feel very sad about it sometimes. But I've still got Dad. And anyway, it's not as though I'll never see Mum again, is it?’

‘Er—isn't it?’ said Harry uncertainly.

She shook her head in disbelief.

‘Oh, come on. You heard them, just behind the veil, didn't you?’

‘You mean ...’

‘In that room with the archway. They were just lurking out of sight, that's all. You heard them.’

They looked at each other. Luna was smiling slightly. Harry did not know what to say, or to think; Luna believed so many extraordinary things ... yet he had been sure he had heard voices behind the veil, too.

‘Are you sure you don't want me to help you look for your stuff?’ he said.

‘Oh, no,’ said Luna. ‘No, I think I'll just go down and have some pudding and wait for it all to turn up ... it always does in the end ... well, have a nice holiday, Harry.’

‘Yeah ... yeah, you too.’

She walked away from him and, as he watched her go, he found that the terrible weight in his stomach seemed to have lessened slightly.

The journey home on the Hogwarts Express next day was eventful in several ways. Firstly, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, who had clearly been waiting all week for the opportunity to strike without teacher witnesses, attempted to ambush Harry halfway down the train as he made his way back from the toilet. The attack might have succeeded had it not been for the fact that they unwittingly chose to stage the attack right outside a compartment full of DA members, who saw what was happening through the glass and rose as one to rush to Harry's aid. By the time Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot, had finished using a wide variety of the hexes and jinxes Harry had taught them, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle resembled nothing so much as three gigantic slugs squeezed into Hogwarts uniform as Harry, Ernie and Justin hoisted them into the luggage rack and left them there to ooze.

‘I must say, I'm looking forward to seeing Malfoy's mother's face when he gets off the train,’ said Ernie, with some satisfaction, as he watched Malfoy squirm above him. Ernie had never quite got over the indignity of Malfoy docking points from Hufflepuff during his brief spell as a member of the Inquisitorial Squad.

‘Goyle's mum'll be really pleased, though,’ said Ron, who had come to investigate the source of the commotion. ‘He's loads better-looking now ... anyway, Harry, the food trolley's just stopped if you want anything ...’

Harry thanked the others and accompanied Ron back to their compartment, where he bought a large pile of cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties. Hermione was reading the Daily Prophet again, Ginny was doing a quiz in The Quibbler and Neville was stroking his Mimbulus mimbletonia, which had grown a great deal over the year and now made odd crooning noises when touched.

Harry and Ron whiled away most of the journey playing wizard chess while Hermione read out snippets from the Prophet.It was now full of articles about how to repel dementors, attempts by the Ministry to track down Death Eaters and hysterical letters claiming that the writer had seen Lord Voldemort walking past their house that very morning ...

‘It hasn't really started yet,’ sighed Hermione gloomily, folding up the newspaper again. ‘But it won't be long now ...’

‘Hey, Harry,’ said Ron softly, nodding towards the glass window on to the corridor.

Harry looked around. Cho was passing, accompanied by Marietta Edgecombe, who was wearing a balaclava. His and Cho's eyes met for a moment. Cho blushed and kept walking. Harry looked back down at the chessboard just in time to see one of his pawns chased off its square by Ron's knight.

‘What's—er— going on with you and her, anyway?’ Ron asked quietly.

‘Nothing,’ said Harry truthfully.

‘I—er—heard she's going out with someone else now,’ said Hermione tentatively.

Harry was surprised to find that this information did not hurt at all. Wanting to impress Cho seemed to belong to a past that was no longer quite connected with him; so much of what he had wanted before Sirius's death felt that way these days ... the week that had elapsed since he had last seen Sirius seemed to have lasted much, much longer; it stretched across two universes, the one with Sirius in it, and the one without.

‘You're well out of it, mate,’ said Ron forcefully. ‘I mean, she's quite good-looking and all that, but you want someone a bit more cheerful.’

‘She's probably cheerful enough with someone else,’ said Harry, shrugging.

‘Who's she with now, anyway?’ Ron asked Hermione, but it was Ginny who answered.

‘Michael Corner,’ she said.

‘Michael—but— ’ said Ron, craning around in his seat to state at her. ‘But you were going out with him!’

‘Not any more,’ said Ginny resolutely. ‘He didn't like Gryffindor beating Ravenclaw at Quidditch, and got really sulky, so I ditched him and he ran off to comfort Cho instead.’ She scratched her nose absently with the end of her quill, turned The Quibbler upside-down and began marking her answers. Ron looked highly delighted.

‘Well, I always thought he was a bit of an idiot,’ he said, prodding his queen forwards towards Harry's quivering castle. ‘Good for you. Just choose someone—better—next time.’

He cast Harry an oddly furtive look as he said it.

‘Well, I've chosen Dean Thomas, would you say he's better?’ asked Ginny vaguely.

‘WHAT?’ shouted Ron, upending the chessboard. Crookshanks went plunging after the pieces and Hedwig and Pigwidgeon twittered and hooted angrily from overhead.

As the train slowed down in the approach to King's Cross, Harry thought he had never wanted to leave it less. He even wondered fleetingly what would happen if he simply refused to get off, but remained stubbornly sitting there until the first of September, when it would take him back to Hogwarts. When it finally puffed to a standstill, however, he lifted down Hedwig's cage and prepared to drag his trunk from the train as usual.

When the ticket inspector signalled to Harry, Ron and Hermione that it was safe to walk through the magical barrier between platforms nine and ten, however, he found a surprise awaiting him on the other side: a group of people standing there to greet him who he had not expected at all.

There was Mad-Eye Moody, looking quite as sinister with his bowler hat pulled low over his magical eye as he would have done without it, his gnarled hands clutching a long staff, his body wrapped in a voluminous travelling cloak. Tonks stood just behind him, her bright bubble-gum-pink hair gleaming in the sunlight filtering through the dirty glass of the station ceiling, wearing heavily patched jeans and a bright purple T-shirt bearing the legend The Weird Sisters.Next to Tonks was Lupin, his face pale, his hair greying, a long and threadbare overcoat covering a shabby jumper and trousers. At the front of the group stood Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, dressed in their Muggle best, and Fred and George, who were both wearing brand-new jackets in some lurid green, scaly material.

‘Ron, Ginny!’ called Mrs. Weasley, hurrying forwards and hugging her children tightly. ‘Oh, and Harry dear—how are you?’

‘Fine,’ lied Harry, as she pulled him into a tight embrace. Over her shoulder he saw Ron goggling at the twins’ new clothes.

‘What are they supposed to be?’ he asked, pointing at the jackets.

‘Finest dragonskin, little bro',’ said Fred, giving his zip a little tweak. ‘Business is booming and we thought we'd treat ourselves.’

‘Hello, Harry,’ said Lupin, as Mrs. Weasley let go of Harry and turned to greet Hermione.

‘Hi,’ said Harry. ‘I didn't expect ... what are you all doing here?’

‘Well,’ said Lupin with a slight smile, ‘we thought we might have a little chat with your aunt and uncle before letting them take you home.’

‘I dunno if that's a good idea,’ said Harry at once.

‘Oh, I think it is,’ growled Moody, who had limped a little closer. ‘That'll be them, will it, Potter?’

He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder; his magical eye was evidently peering through the back of his head and his bowler hat. Harry leaned an inch or so to the left to see where Mad-Eye was pointing and there, sure enough, were the three Dursleys, who looked positively appalled to see Harry's reception committee.

‘Ah, Harry!’ said Mr. Weasley, turning from Hermione's parents, who he had just greeted enthusiastically, and who were now taking it in turns to hug Hermione. ‘Well— shall we do it, then?’

‘Yeah, I reckon so, Arthur,’ said Moody.

He and Mr. Weasley took the lead across the station towards the Dursleys, who were apparently rooted to the floor. Hermione disengaged herself gently from her mother to join the group.

‘Good afternoon,’ said Mr. Weasley pleasantly to Uncle Vernon as he came to a halt right in front of him. ‘You might remember me, my name's Arthur Weasley.’

As Mr. Weasley had single-handedly demolished most of the Dursleys’ living room two years previously, Harry would have been very surprised if Uncle Vernon had forgotten him. Sure enough, Uncle Vernon turned a deeper shade of puce and glared at Mr. Weasley, but chose not to say anything, partly, perhaps, because the Dursleys were outnumbered two to one. Aunt Petunia looked both frightened and embarrassed; she kept glancing around, as though terrified somebody she knew would see her in such company. Dudley, meanwhile, seemed to be trying to look small and insignificant, a feat at which he was failing extravagantly.

‘We thought we'd just have a few words with you about Harry,’ said Mr. Weasley, still smiling.

‘Yeah,’ growled Moody. ‘About how he's treated when he's at your place.’

Uncle Vernon's moustache seemed to bristle with indignation. Possibly because the bowler hat gave him the entirely mistaken impression that he was dealing with a kindred spirit, he addressed himself to Moody.

‘I am not aware that it is any of your business what goes on in my house—’

‘I expect what you're not aware of would fill several books, Dursley,’ growled Moody.

‘Anyway, that's not the point,’ interjected Tonks, whose pink hair seemed to offend Aunt Petunia more than all the rest put together, for she closed her eyes rather than look at her. ‘The point is, if we find out you've been horrible to Harry— ’

‘—And make no mistake, we'll hear about it,’ added Lupin pleasantly.

‘Yes,’ said Mr Weasley, ‘even if you won't let Harry use the felly-tone—’

‘Telephone,’ whispered Hermione.

‘—Yeah, if we get any hint that Potter's been mistreated in any way, you'll have us to answer to,’ said Moody.

Uncle Vernon swelled ominously. His sense of outrage seemed to outweigh even his fear of this bunch of oddballs.

‘Are you threatening me, sir?’ he said, so loudly that passers-by actually turned to stare.

‘Yes, I am,’ said Mad-Eye, who seemed rather pleased that Uncle Vernon had grasped this fact so quickly.

‘And do I look like the kind of man who can be intimidated?’ barked Uncle Vernon.

‘Well ...’ said Moody, pushing back his bowler hat to reveal his sinisterly revolving magical eye. Uncle Vernon leapt backwards in horror and collided painfully with a luggage trolley. ‘Yes, I'd have to say you do, Dursley.’

He turned away from Uncle Vernon to survey Harry.

‘So, Potter ... give us a shout if you need us. If we don't hear from you for three days in a row, we'll send someone along ...’

Aunt Petunia whimpered piteously. It could not have been plainer that she was thinking of what the neighbours would say if they caught sight of these people marching up the garden path.

‘Bye, then, Potter,’ said Moody, grasping Harry's shoulder for a moment with a gnarled hand.

‘Take care, Harry,’ said Lupin quietly. ‘Keep in touch.’

‘Harry, we'll have you away from there as soon as we can,’ Mrs. Weasley whispered, hugging him again.

‘We'll see you soon, mate,’ said Ron anxiously, shaking Harry's hand.

‘Really soon, Harry,’ said Hermione earnestly. ‘We promise.’

Harry nodded. He somehow could not find words to tell them what it meant to him, to see them all ranged there, on his side. Instead, he smiled, raised a hand in farewell, turned around and led the way out of the station towards the sunlit street, with Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley hurrying along in his wake.

在星期五晚上一次简短的发言中，魔法部长康纳利斯。福吉确认，神秘人已经回到了这个国家，并再一次地处于活动之中。

　　“我很遗憾地宣布，那个自诩为某某大人的巫师—你们知道我指的是谁—还活着并再次回到了我们中间。”福吉，看上去疲倦且狼狈不堪地对记者说。“我同时还要遗憾地宣布，阿兹卡班的摄魂怪发生了大规模的反抗，他们不愿意继续接受魔法部的雇佣。我们相信摄魂怪现在正服从于神秘人的指挥。”

　　“我们强烈要求所有的巫师保持警惕。魔法部正在印刷家庭和个人初级防御的小册子，并将在接下来的一个月内免费发放到各个巫师家庭。”

　　魔法部的声明引起了巫师人群的恐慌，就在上个星期三，他们还刚刚得到魔法部的保证：“所有关于神秘人正在我们中间活动的说法都是一派胡言”。

　　是什么导致了魔法部一百八十度大转弯目前还不得而知，现在所掌握的情况是，就在星期四晚上，神秘人带着一伙他的忠实信徒（即食死徒）得以进入魔法部内部。

　　新近刚刚恢复霍格沃兹魔法学校校长头衔、国际魔法联盟成员头衔、巫师协会主席头衔的艾伯斯。丹伯多，迄今为止没有发表任何看法。在过去的一年里，他一直坚持神秘人并没有像广泛希望及相信的那样死去，而是正在再次招募信徒以图东山再起。期间，那个“死里逃生的男孩”—

　　“说的是你，哈利。我就知道他们会把你牵扯进去。”荷米恩从报纸上方看着哈利说道。

　　他们正在学校的医院里。哈利坐在罗恩的床尾，两个人一起听着荷米恩读《预言家日报》的头版。金妮则蜷缩在荷米恩的床尾，她的脚踝已经被庞弗类夫人治好了；纳威的鼻子已经恢复了原来的样子，他坐在两张床中间的椅子上；而露娜，作为一次顺便的造访，正抓着一本最新出版的《吹毛求疵》杂志，上下颠倒地看着，显然没有去听荷米恩在说什么。

　　“他现在又是“死里逃生的男孩”了，是吗？”罗恩沉着脸说道。“不再是蛊惑人心的瞎炫耀了，嗯？”

　　他从床边橱柜上一大堆的东西了抓了一把巧克力青蛙，扔了些给哈利、金妮和纳威，又用自己的牙齿撕开了包装纸。他的前臂上依然有几条很深的伤痕，那是“脑袋”的触须缠绕着他时留下的。根据庞弗雷夫人的说法，“思想”总是能够比其他的东西留下更深的印记，尽管当她开始使用乌布里医生的遗忘药膏后，那些伤痕已经好多了。

　　“是的，现在他们对你赞不绝口，哈利。”荷米恩说道，一边浏览着那篇文章。“呼吁真相的孤独的声音，还被认为是精神错乱，从不动摇他的立场，被迫忍受嘲弄和诽谤。”“恩，”她皱着眉，“我想他们没提，事实上正是他们在《预言家日报》上进行嘲弄和诽谤。”

　　她轻微地缩了一下，把一只手放在她的肋骨上。多洛霍夫咒语击中了她，尽管它的作用已经被减轻了，用庞弗雷夫人的话来说，仍然“有足够多的伤处需要对付”。荷米恩每天要服十副药剂，她的情况已大大好转，以致厌倦了继续留在医院里。

　　神秘人的最后一次图谋被消灭—第二到第四页；魔法部本应该告诉我们什么—第五页；为什么没有人听艾伯斯。丹伯多的—第六到第八页；哈利。波特的独家采访—第九页。看起来，”荷米恩把报纸折起扔到一边，“他们现在可有东西要写了。那篇采访也不是独家的，早在几个月前就在《吹毛求疵》刊登了。”

　　“爸爸把它卖给了他们，”露娜翻了一页杂志，含糊不清地说，“他卖了个好价钱，我们这个夏天能去瑞典，看看能不能赶上Crumple-Horned Snorkack。”

　　荷米恩似乎作了一会儿思想斗争，最后说了句：“那听上去很不错。”

　　金妮笑了，看了一眼哈利的眼睛又赶紧移开。

　　“那么，”荷米恩坐直了一些，又缩了一下，“学校里怎么样？”

　　“弗立维教授把弗莱德和乔治的沼泽给弄掉了，只用了三秒钟。但他在窗下面留了一小块，还用绳子围了起来。—”

　　“为什么？”荷米恩惊讶地问。

　　“他说那是了不起的魔法。”金妮耸了耸肩。

　　“我想他把那留着，当作弗莱德和乔治的纪念碑。”罗恩说，他塞了满满一嘴的巧克力。“他们把这些都给我了，”他指着旁边一大堆巧克力青蛙对哈利说，“除了魔法玩笑商店总得做点别的，对吧？”

　　荷米恩看上去不以为然，“那么，丹伯多回来以后麻烦都没有了吗？”

　　“是的，”纳威说，“一切都回到原来正常的样子了。”

　　“我想这下费尔奇高兴了，对吗？”罗恩问道，把一张丹伯多的扑克牌靠在他的水壶上。

　　“恰恰相反，”金妮说，“实际上他真的真的非常失望，”她把声音压得很低，“他一直说安布里奇是霍格沃兹有史以来最好的一样东西。”

　　他们六个一齐把头转了过去。安布里奇教授就躺在对面的一张床上，眼睛直直地瞪着天花板。丹伯多一个人跑到黑森林里面去，把她从人马那里解救了出来。至于他是怎么做的—怎么从那些树里面毫发不伤地把安布里奇教授救出来的—没有人知道，当然安布里奇教授也不可能说。自从她回到城堡之后，她没有—至少就他们所知—说过一个字。也没有人知道她到底发生了什么事。她那总是非常整洁的鼠灰色的头发现在变得乱七八糟，上面甚至还有一些树枝和叶子，但她似乎毫不在意。

　　“庞弗雷夫人说她吓坏了，”荷米恩低低地说。

　　“不如说是气坏了，”金妮说。

　　“不错，如果你试试看，会发现她还活着。”罗恩说着，嘴里发出骨碌骨碌的声音。安布里奇教授直挺挺地坐起来，朝四周张望。

　　“有什么事吗，安布里奇教授？”庞弗雷夫人从伸出脑袋问。

　　“不，不。” 安布里奇重又跌落到枕头里，“我一定是做了个梦。” 荷米恩和金妮一边笑一边用床单捂住了嘴。

　　“说到人马，”荷米恩稍稍笑停一些之后问，“现在谁是我们的预言课老师？佛罗伦萨还在吗？”

　　“他会留下来的，”哈利说，“别的人马肯定不欢迎他回去，对吗？”

　　“好像他和特里劳妮一起教。”金妮说。

　　“我打赌，丹伯多希望最好永远别再见到特里劳妮。”罗恩说，一边嚼着他的第十四个巧克力青蛙。“我提醒你们，如果问我预言课有什么不是垃圾的话，我要说佛罗伦萨还不是那么糟糕。”

　　“你怎么能这么说？”荷米恩质问他，“在我们发现确实存在真实的预言之后？”

　　哈利的心跳突然加快了。他还没有告诉罗恩、荷米恩或者任何其他的人预言球的含义。纳威告诉了他们，当哈利在死亡房间里拖他上去的时候，预言球被打碎了。哈利没有纠正他。他不想看到，当他告诉他们他将不可避免地成为一个凶手或被杀者时他们的表情。

　　“真遗憾它碎了。”荷米恩摇了摇头，轻轻地说。

　　“没错，”罗恩说，“不过，最起码神秘人也不可能知道里面是什么了—你去哪儿？”他补充了一句，又惊讶又失望地看着哈利站起来。

　　“呃，去哈格力那儿，”哈利说，“你知道他刚回来，而我答应会去看他，告诉他你们俩怎么样了。”

　　“噢，好吧，”罗恩闷闷不乐地说，看着窗外湛蓝的天空，“真希望我们也能去。”

　　“代我们问他好！”荷米恩喊道，看着哈利往外走去，“问问他关于、关于他那个小朋友的事！”

　　哈利挥了挥手，表示听到，然后离开了房间。

　　即使是星期天，城堡也显得太安静了。每个人都跑了出去，在布满阳光的操场上，享受考试结束的愉快，以及对学期最后几天没有家庭作业的期待。哈利缓缓地走过空无一人的走廊，一边看着窗外；他可以看到人们三三两两地散布在魁地奇球场上，还有一些人在湖里面和巨大的鱿鱼一起游泳。

　　他发现很难确定自己是否愿意和人们待在一起；当他和他们在一起时他想离开，而当他一个人时他又想和他们在一起。他想他也许真的应该去看看哈格力，自从他回来后他们还没有好好的谈谈。

　　当哈利走下最后一个阶梯进入门廊时，他看到马尔夫、克拉伯和高尔从右边通往斯莱特林公共休息室的门里面出来。哈利站住了，马尔夫他们也站住了。此刻唯一可以听到的声音是从操场上传进来的叫喊声和笑声。

　　马尔夫朝周围看了看—哈利知道他是在检查有没有老师—然后他看着哈利，低声说：“你死定了，波特。”

　　哈利挑起眉毛，“有意思，”他说，“你预料到了我不会躲避。”

　　马尔夫看上去比任何时候都愤怒；哈利看着他那张苍白的、被愤怒扭曲了的脸，感到一阵痛快。

　　“你必须付出代价，”马尔夫用低的不能再低的声音说道，“我要让你为你对我父亲所做的事情付出代价！”

　　“我害怕了，”哈利讽刺地说，“我想比起你们三个，伏地魔大人不过是刚刚热了个身—怎么了？”他补充道，看到马尔夫他们被那个名字吓了一跳。“他不是你父亲的朋友么？你不应该害怕他，对吗？”

　　“你认为你有多了不起，波特，”马尔夫说，慢慢地往前走，克拉伯和高尔在两旁跟着。“你等着，我会让你知道。你不能让我父亲待在监狱里-”

　　“我想我知道，”哈利说。

　　“摄魂怪已经离开了阿兹卡班，”马尔夫轻轻地说，“父亲和其他人很快就会出来。”

　　“是的，我想他们会，”哈利说，“不过，至少现在每个人都知道他们是些卑鄙的家伙-”

　　马尔夫飞快地去抽他的魔杖，但是哈利比他更快；他在马尔夫的手指刚刚伸进长袍的口袋时抽出了自己的魔杖。

　　“波特！”

　　一个声音穿过门廊。斯内普出现在通往他的办公室的楼梯上，看着哈利。哈利感到一阵强烈的憎恨，远远超过他对马尔夫的。无论丹伯多说什么，他都不会原谅斯内普，永远不。

　　“你在干什么，波特？”斯内普的声音和平时一样冷酷，他朝他们四个大步走了过来。

　　“我正在想用在马尔夫身上的咒语，先生，”哈利厉声说道。

　　斯内普瞪着他。

　　“马上把你的魔杖放下，”他快速地说，“扣除格莱芬多十分—”

　　斯内普看着墙上巨大的记分器，轻蔑地笑了。

　　“啊，我发现记分器上格莱芬多已经没什么分可以扣了。那么，波特，我只能简单地—”

　　“加上一些分数？”

　　麦格教授一瘸一拐地从石阶上走进城堡，一只手提着一个格子呢的旅行袋，身体歪斜地靠着另一只手中的手杖，气色看上去很不错。

　　“麦格教授！”斯内普叫道，大踏步地走了过去，“你从圣蒙格医院出来了！”

　　“是的，斯内普教授，”麦格教授说，一边脱去了她的旅行斗蓬，“我已经焕然一新了。你们两个-克拉伯-高尔-”

　　她高傲地向他们招了招手，那两个人走了过来，磨磨蹭蹭地拖着脚步。

　　“拿着，”她把旅行袋塞到克拉伯怀里，斗蓬塞给了高尔，“把它们拿到我办公室去。”

　　克拉伯和高尔转过身去，跌跌撞撞地走上了楼梯。

　　“那么好吧，”麦格教授说，抬头看着墙上的记分器，“嗯，我想波特和他的朋友必须每人加上五十分，因为他们向世人警告了神秘人的归来！你看怎么样，斯内普教授？”

　　“什么？”斯内普吃惊地问，哈利觉得他肯定听得清清楚楚。“噢-好吧-我想是的。”

　　“那么给波特加五十分，还有两个威斯里家的孩子，隆巴顿和格林佐，”麦格教授说着，格莱芬多记分器里一大堆红宝石哗啦哗啦掉了下来。“噢，我想还有拉夫格，”她补充道，“卫文克劳的记分器里兰宝石洒落了下来。“现在，我想你可以扣波特十分了，斯内普教授—就想我们看到的。”

　　记分器里飞起了一些红宝石，不过留在下面的仍然相当可观。

　　“那么，波特，马尔夫，我想你们是不是该出去了？外面那么好的天气。”麦格教授神采奕奕地说。

　　哈利不需要听她说第二遍了—他把魔杖塞进长袍里，径直朝着前门走过去，一眼都没多看斯内普和马尔夫。

　　太阳的热气包围了他，他穿过草坪，朝哈格力的小屋走去。草坪上的学生们正在享受着阳光，互相谈论着，有的在看《预言家日报》，有的在吃零食，当他走过去的时候他们都瞧着他；有一些人在叫他，或者向他挥手，迫切地想表示他们，就像《预言家日报》上的提的，把他当成了英雄。哈利没和任何一个人说话。他不知道他们对于过去的三天里发生的事知道多少，但他现在或以后都不想被人问东问西的。

　　他在巧哈格力的门时想了一下，但是牙牙从转角处跑了过来，并且带着极大的热情向他扑了过来，告诉哈利哈格力正在菜园里摘豆子。

　　“太好了，哈利！”哈格力高兴地嚷嚷，哈利朝栅栏走过去，“来吧，来吧，让我们喝一杯蒲公英汁。”

　　“怎么样？”哈格力问，他们坐在他的木桌旁，一人拿着一杯冰冻果汁。“呃-感觉还不错吧？”

　　哈利看着哈格力关心的神情，知道他并非在问自己的身体是否健康。

　　“我很好，”哈利快速地说，不想讨论哈格力脑海里在想的事，“你怎么样？”

　　“一直躲在山里，”哈格力说，“就像那时候天狼星—”

　　哈格力停住了，他清了清喉咙，看了看哈利，一口气喝了好几口果汁。

　　“不管怎么样，总算回来了，”他轻轻地说。

　　“你-你看上去好多了，”哈利说，下定决心要把话题从天狼星身上移开。

　　“是吗？”哈格力问，举起一只大手摸摸自己的脸，“噢-对。格洛普也好多了。我回来后见了他三次，他把事情跟我说了三遍。他是个好家伙，真的。我想该给他找个女朋友了。”

　　哈利想跟哈格力说并非如此，要是在黑森林里面再住上一个巨人，也许比格洛普更糊涂更粗鲁，那将是一件令人担忧的事。但是哈利没有精力去讨论这件事情。他开始希望自己能一个人待着了，这种想法促使他大口地喝了些蒲公英汁，喝得杯子里只剩下半杯，这样他可以快点离开。

　　“现在每个人都知道你说的是实话了，哈利，”哈格力突然柔声地说。他靠近哈利，看着他。“这样是不是好多了？”

　　哈利耸耸肩。

　　“看，”哈格力靠在桌子上说，“我知道天狼星死了，死于一场战斗，那正是他所希望的方式-”

　　“他根本不希望那样！”哈利生气地说。

　　哈格力低下了他那乱蓬蓬的头。

　　“嗯，我想他不会，”他轻轻地说，“但是，哈利，他绝对不会自己坐在家里而让别人去战斗。他不可能忍受只能接受别人的帮助-”

　　哈利跳了起来。

　　“我要去看看罗恩和荷米恩，他们还在医院里。”他生硬地说。

　　“噢，”哈格力不安地说，“那-好吧，哈利。哈好照顾你自己，如果你-”

　　“好的。”

　　哈利飞快地打开门冲了出去，哈格力还没来得及说再见，哈利就已经穿过草坪了。大家又一次招呼他。他闭上眼睛，希望他们都能够消失，让他睁开眼后能一个人待着。

　　几天前，就在考试结束前，他看到了伏地魔留在他脑海的幻像，他愿意付出所有的一切，只要这个魔法世界里的人相信他说的是真话，相信伏地魔回来了，相信他既没有撒谎也没有疯。但是现在—

　　他在湖边走了一会儿，然后在岸上坐了下来，躲在一丛灌木丛后面以避开人们的目光，看着闪闪发光的湖面，默默地想着。

　　也许他想一个人待着的原因是在他和丹伯多谈话后，他感觉和其他的人隔离了。一道看不见的障碍把他和这个世界的其他部分隔开了。他是—就像以前一样—一个被做了记号的人。而他一直不理解这意味着什么。

　　他坐在湖边，悲痛沉甸甸地压着他，失去天狼星的痛楚在他体内弥漫，他甚至感觉不到恐惧。此刻阳光灿烂，周围的操场上人们正在欢笑，他好像和他们处在两个世界，彼此之间有着难以逾越的距离，但即使这样，他仍然很难相信他的结局将会是一个凶手，或者被其影响一生。

　　他在湖边坐了很久，凝视着水面，试图不去想他的教父，不去想曾经在这里，在对岸，天狼星为了抵挡一百个摄魂怪而崩溃。

　　太阳下山了，他感觉到了寒冷。他站起来，朝城堡走去，用袖子擦去脸上的泪水。

　　罗恩和荷米恩在学期结束前康复出院了。荷米恩不时地表现出试图谈论天狼星的样子，但是罗恩在她每次提到天狼星名字的时候就阻止了她。哈利不能确定他是不是愿意谈论他的教父，他的意愿随着情绪而改变。但有一件事他确定：当他回到女贞路4号时他将非常不开心，非常想念霍格沃兹。即便他已经知道了为什么每个夏天要回到那里，他也没有因此而觉得好受些。实际上，他从没有像现在这么担心过。

　　安布里奇教授在学期结束前一天离开了霍格沃兹。她似乎是在晚餐时分溜出了医院，试图不被察觉地离开这里。但是很不幸，她在半路上遇到了皮皮鬼，后者根据弗来德的指示抓住了最后一次机会，兴高采烈地截住了她，把一根手杖和一盒粉笔陆续地砸向她。很多学生跑到门廊里来看她如何狼狈而逃，而各学院的院长则只是半心半意地试图制止他们。事实上，麦格教授只是发出了几声微弱的抗议就回到座位上去了，很遗憾地表示她不能进行庆贺，因为皮皮鬼借走了她的手杖。

　　学期的最后一次晚宴到来了，大部分人已经整理好行李，下去参加晚宴了，只有哈利还没有开始。

　　“明天再整理吧！”罗恩说，他正站在宿舍门口等哈利，“快点，我饿坏了。”

　　“我很快就好了，你先走吧。”

　　但是当罗恩关上门走了以后，哈利仍没有加快速度整理的意思。他最不想做的事情就是参加晚宴。他担心丹伯多会在发言中提到自己。他肯定会提到伏地魔的名字；会提到过去的这一年。

　　他把一些皱巴巴的长袍从行李箱的底部拿出来，一件件折好。就在这时，他注意到一个包装得非常好的小包裹就躺在箱子角落里。他不清楚它怎么会在那。他弯下药，把它从他的训练服下面抽了出来，仔细地检查了一下。

　　他很快想了起来。天狼星在格陵莫得12号的前门那里把它送给了他。“需要我的时候就用它，好吗？”

　　哈利一屁股坐在床上，把包裹打开。一块小小的方形镜子掉了下来。它看上去很旧，当然也很脏。哈利把它举到自己面前，看到自己的脸。

　　他把镜子翻了过来。在反面，有一些写得很潦草的字，是天狼星写的。

　　这是一个双面镜，一共有两个，我这里还有另外一个。如果你要找我，就对着他喊我的名字；你会出现在我的镜子里，而我也会出现在你的镜子里和你说话。詹姆斯和我分开的时候就用它们来进行联系。

　　哈利的心跳加快了。四年前他在意若思镜里见到了自己的父母。而现在，他有能和天狼星说话了，马上，他知道—

　　他看了看周围，确定没有别人，宿舍里空无一人。他重新看着这面镜子，把它举到面前，手微微地抖着，大声地、清晰地说：“天狼星。”

　　他的呼吸使镜子上面起了一层薄雾。他把镜子举得更近些，激动得难以自制，但是薄雾后面向他眨眼的仍然是他自己的眼睛。

　　他又擦了擦镜子，房间响起了他清清楚楚的、一字一顿的声音：

　　“天狼星布莱克！”

　　毫无动静。镜子里布满失望的仍然是他自己的脸。

　　天狼星去拱门那里的时候没有带着他的镜子，哈利脑子里有一个小小的声音说。这样它就没什么作用。

　　哈利呆了一会儿，猛的把镜子扔进了箱子，镜子碎了。在那短短的充满光辉的几分钟里，他曾经确信能够见到天狼星，和他说话。

　　失望的感觉就要从他的喉咙里蹦出来了；他站了起来，把他的东西扔进箱子，乱七八糟地堆在碎了的镜子上—

　　他的脑海里闪过一个念头，有一个比镜子更好的方法，更好、更可行的方法，他以前怎么没想到—他为什么不去问问？

　　他冲出宿舍，奔下旋梯，顾不得撞上了墙；他跑过空空荡荡的公共休息室，穿过门口的肖像画，冲进走廊，完全没理会胖夫人在他后面叫：“晚宴已经开始了，你知道，你去了会打断它的！”

　　可是哈利根本不想去参加晚宴。

　　为什么么在你不需要他们的时候，这屋子里到处是幽灵；而在你需要的时候却一个都不见了？

　　他跑下楼梯，走廊里空无一人，无论是活的还是死的。很显然，他们都在大厅里。他跑到咒语课教室外面的时候停住了，一边喘气一边想，看来他不得不等到晚宴结束以后了。

　　可就在他放弃希望的时候他看见了—一个透明的身影飘过走廊的尽头。

　　“嗨-嗨！尼克！尼克！”

　　那个幽灵从墙壁里面把头伸了出来，脱下全是羽毛的帽子，头危险地摇晃着，是尼古拉斯爵士。

　　“晚上好，”他说，把身体的其余部分从墙里面抽了出来，微笑地看着哈利，“我不是唯一一个迟到的，对吗？当然，”他叹了口气，“从某种角度来说。”

　　“尼克，我能问你一些事吗？”

　　尼克的脸上掠过一种奇怪的表情，他把手指伸进领圈，把它拉了拉直，显然在考虑。直到他那悬着的头都快要掉下来的时候，他才停止了考虑。

　　“呃-现在吗，哈利？”尼克问，看上去有点迷惑。“不能等到晚宴以后？”

　　“不-尼克-帮帮忙，”哈利说，“我真的需要和你谈谈。在这行吗？”

　　哈利打开了最近一个教室的门，差点没头的尼克叹了口气。

　　“噢，好吧，”他听天由命地说。“我就想到会这样。”

　　哈利替他开着门，可他却从墙里面穿了过去。

　　“会怎样？”哈利问，关上了门。

　　“你来找我，”尼克说，飘到窗前看着天上的乌云。“有时候会有这样的事，当某人受伤的时候。”

　　“嗯，”哈利不想被误解。“你说得对，瞧，我已经来找你了。”

　　尼克没说什么。

　　“我知道你-”哈利说着，发现这很难表达，“我知道你已经死了。但是你还存在，对吗？”

　　尼克叹了口气，仍然看着窗外。

　　“是这样的，对吗？”哈利紧盯着问。“你死了，可我还是能和你说话，你能在霍格沃兹走来走去，穿过任何东西，对吗？”

　　“是的，”尼克轻轻地说，“我能走，能说。”

　　“也就是说你回来了，对吗？”哈利急切地说。“还可以回来，对吗？所有的幽灵。他们不会完全消失。嗯？”他加上一句，看到尼克一言不发。

　　尼克犹豫着，然后说：“不是所有人能作为幽灵回来的。”

　　“什么意思？”哈利快速地问。

　　“只有，只有巫师。”

　　“噢，”哈利松了口气，笑了，“那，那就好了，我要问的正是一个巫师。他也能回来，对吗？”

　　尼克转过身来，悲哀地看着哈利。

　　“他不会回来了。”

　　“谁？”

　　“天狼星布莱克。”尼克说。

　　“但是你回来了！”哈利生气地叫道。“你回来了—虽然你死了但你没有消失—”

　　“巫师可以在地球上留下他们的烙印，以便再次行走在曾经生活过的地方，”尼克悲伤地说，“但是只有极少数的巫师会选择这条路。”

　　“为什么不？”哈利问，“不管怎样-这没关系-天狼星不会在乎这是否正常，他会回来的，我知道他会！”

　　他是如此相信自己，以致于哈利真的转过头去看着门口，在那一瞬间他似乎看见了天狼星，苍白的、透明的，但是高兴的，从那儿向他走过来。

　　“他不会回来了，”尼克有说了一遍，“他已经走了。”

　　“你什么意思，‘走了’？”哈利快速地问，“去哪儿了？听着-你死的时候到底发生了什么？你去了哪儿？为什么不是所有的人都会回来？这个地方为什么不都是幽灵？为什么-”

　　“我不能回答，”尼克说。

　　“你不是死了吗？”哈利愤怒地说，“谁还能比你更能回答这个问题？”

　　“我害怕死亡，”尼克柔声说道，“我选择了留在后面。我有时候会想是不是该这么做。不是这儿也不是那儿，实际上，我既不在这儿也不在那儿。”他苦笑了一声。“我不知道死亡的秘密，哈利，我选择了仿造一个虚弱的生命。我相信魔法部的有识之士正在研究这个问题-”

　　“别跟我提那个地方！”哈利厉声说道。

　　“我很抱歉不能帮你，”尼克轻轻地说，“那么，那么，请原谅，晚宴，你知道。”

　　他走了，把哈利一个人留在那儿，空洞地望着墙壁上他消失的地方。

　　哈利失去了再次见到他教父的希望，如同再次失去他一般。他慢慢地、忧伤地走回空空荡荡的城堡，不知道自己什么时候才能高兴起来。

　　他转过拐角，朝胖夫人走去，忽然注意到前面有一个人正在墙上钉什么东西。他看了一眼，发现是露娜。现在再躲开已经来不及了，她听到了他的脚步声，而且哈利也没什么力气去躲开什么人了。

　　“你好，”露娜口齿不清地说，打量着他，走了过来。

　　“你怎么不去参加晚宴？”哈利问。

　　“嗯，我的很多东西都不见了，”露娜平静地说，“你知道他们总是把我的东西藏起来，但今天是最后一天，我要把它们都找出来，所以我已经做好记号了。”

　　她指了指墙上的记事板，上面钉着一张表，记着她丢失的东西和衣服，以及归还的要求。

　　哈利有一种奇怪的感觉；既不是愤怒也不是悲伤，尽管自天狼星死后他一直处于这两种状态。过了一会儿他发现，那是对露娜的同情。

　　“他们干嘛要藏你的东西？”哈利皱着眉头问。

　　“噢，”她耸了耸肩，“我想他们认为我有点古怪，你知道。实际上有些人叫我‘疯子’拉夫格。”

　　哈利看着她，那种同情的感觉更强烈了。

　　“他们没有理由拿走你的东西，”他无力地说，“需要我帮你找吗？”

　　“噢，不，”她笑了笑说。“他们会拿回来的，到最后总是这样。只不过今晚我就要收拾行李。对了，你怎么不参加晚宴？”

　　哈利耸耸肩，“只是不想参加。”

　　“不，”露娜说，用她那雾蒙蒙的凸出的眼睛注视着他，“我想你不是。那个被食死徒杀死的人是你教父，是吗？金妮告诉我的。”

　　哈利点点头，发现不知出于何种原因，他并不介意露娜提起天狼星。他想起他也能看到那些奇怪的马。

　　“你有没有，”他说，“我的意思是，你有没有看到什么人死去？”

　　“是的，”露娜简单地说，“我的妈妈。她是一个出色的女巫，她喜欢做实验，而有一天她的咒语失灵了。那时我九岁。”

　　“我很抱歉。”哈利喃喃地说道。

　　“的确非常可怕，”露娜一口气说下去，“我有时候仍然感到很难受。不过我还有爸爸。而且无论如何，我总归见过妈妈了，是吗？”

　　“呃-是吗？”哈利不确定地说。

　　她难以相信地摇了摇头。

　　“噢，别这样。你不是都听到了吗？就在帷幕后面。”

　　“你的意思是-”

　　“在拱门连着的那间房间里，他们都在，只是看不见。你都听到了。”

　　他们看着对方。露娜微微地笑了。哈利不知道该说什么，该想什么；露娜相信许多不可思议的事情，当然他也确实听到了帷幕后面的声音。

　　“你肯定不需要我帮你找东西吗？”他问。

　　“噢，不用了，”露娜说，“我想我还是下去吃些布丁，然后再回来等它们都出现吧，最后都是这样的。那么，暑假愉快，哈利。”

　　“好，好的，你也是。”

　　她走了。他看着她离去，发现原先胃里面沉甸甸的痛楚感似乎减轻了些。

　　从某些方面来说，第二天在霍格沃兹特快的归程上事情层出不穷。首先，马尔夫，克拉伯和高尔，在等待了一星期后发现终于没有老师在旁边了，他们埋伏在哈利从厕所回车厢的半路上试图攻击他。这次伏击本来会很成功，如果他们不是无意中选在了一间全是DA成员的车厢外进行的话。里面的人透过玻璃看到了发生的事，并迅速冲了出来援助哈利。在厄尼。麦克莱恩，汉娜。阿伯特，苏珊。波恩斯，贾斯汀。芬奇弗莱奇，安东尼。高德斯登和特里。布特对着他们使用了哈利所教的各种魔法咒语之后，马尔夫，克拉伯和高尔就像三条巨大的鼻涕虫似的缩在霍格沃兹的校服里，哈利，厄尼和贾斯汀把他们扔进了行李架，由他们瘫软在那里。

　　“我必须说，我是多么希望看到马尔夫的妈妈看到他下车时候的表情啊！”厄尼看着马尔夫在头顶上蠕动，非常满意地说。他不能原谅马尔夫担任调查员期间，侮辱性地从海夫帕夫扣除分数。

　　“高尔的妈妈肯定会高兴的。”罗恩说，他跑出来看看发生了什么事。“他看上去更漂亮了。哈利，手推车送吃的来了，你是不是要点儿？”

　　哈利向其他的人表示感谢，和罗恩一起回到了车厢。他买了一大块蛋糕和好几块南瓜饼。荷米恩有在看《预言家日报》了，金妮则在做《吹毛求疵》上的测验，纳威在抚摸他的仙人掌，它长得很快，一碰就发出奇怪的哼哼声。

　　哈利和罗恩在旅途的大部分时间都在玩魔法象棋，而荷米恩则把《预言家日报》的部分片断念了出来。上面满是有关如何击退摄魂怪，魔法部正在追捕食死徒，以及兴奋地声称某天早晨看到伏地魔从房子旁边经过的文章。

　　“还没有真正地开始，”荷米恩沮丧地叹了口气，又把报纸折了起来，“不过也为期不远了。”

　　“嗨，哈利，”罗恩轻声说，朝外面走廊歪了歪头。

　　哈利往外面看，秋张正从那里走过，和玛丽塔一起，后者戴着一顶巴拉克拉法帽子。他的视线和秋张相遇了，她的脸红了红，又继续往前走。哈利回过头来看着棋盘，发现罗恩的骑士把他的一个小卒吃掉了。

　　“你们-你和她现在怎么样？”罗恩轻声问。

　　“没什么，”哈利实事求是地说。

　　“我-呃-听说她现在和别人一起出去，”荷米恩试探性地说。

　　哈利惊讶地发现这个消息对他竟然毫无影响。与秋张交往似乎是过去的事，和现在的他已经没什么关系了。距离最后一次见天狼星似乎已经过去了很久，而在此之前的很多事也随之流逝了。他所在的世界好像被分成了两个：有天狼星的，没有天狼星的。

　　“你不介意就好，”罗恩强调，“我的意思是，她的确很漂亮，但除了这个，和她在一起还应该让人感到愉快。”

　　“她和别人在一起的时候应该会很愉快。”哈利耸耸肩。

　　“她现在和谁在一起？”罗恩问荷米恩，但回答的却是金妮。

　　“迈克尔。康纳。”

　　“迈克尔—但是-”罗恩转过椅子瞪着她，“但是你不是一直和他出去么？”

　　“不再出去了。”金妮坚决地说。“他看到格莱芬多在魁地奇比赛里打败卫文克劳的时候非常生气，所以我和他分了手，而他就跑去取悦秋张了。”她心不在焉地用小指挠了挠鼻子，又继续回到《吹毛求疵》去计算分数了。罗恩看上去非常高兴。

　　“我一直认为他有点傻。”他把他的王后朝哈利摇摇晃晃的城堡冲去。“这对你来说是好事，下次你可以挑个更好的。”

　　他说这个的时候暗暗地瞥了哈利一眼，眼神有些古怪。

　　“嗯，我已经选了迪恩。托马斯，你觉得他是不是好些？”金妮含糊地说。

　　“什么？”罗恩大叫，不留神碰翻了棋盘。克鲁克山在掉下的东西里面跳来跳去，海维和小猪则在头顶上不满地叫着。

　　火车在靠近国王十字车站的时候慢慢地减速了。哈利感到从来没像现在这样舍不得离开它。他甚至闪过一个念头，希望有什么事发生好让他有理由拒绝下车，然后一直在车厢里坐到九月一日霍格沃兹开学，再乘火车回去。但是他最后放弃了这个想法，站起来，准备和以前一样提着海维的笼子，拖着行李箱下车。

　　当检票员告诉哈利，罗恩和荷米恩，现在可以安全地穿过栅栏到九又四分之三站台以后，哈利发现在那里有一个惊喜等着他，有一群他压根没想到的人正在向他打招呼。

　　有“魔眼”莫迪，戴着一顶圆礼帽好遮住他的魔眼—这是他看上去非常邪恶，手里撑着一根长长的木杖，身上批着一件长长的、大的不得了的旅行斗蓬。唐克斯站在他后面，她那泡泡糖似的粉红色的头发，在穿过车站屋顶深色玻璃的阳光下闪闪发光。她穿了一条打满补丁的牛仔裤，和一件写着“古怪姐妹”的鲜艳的紫色的T恤。她旁边是露平，脸色苍白，头发灰白，旧上衣和旧裤子外面是一件破旧的长大衣。他们前面站着威斯利先生和夫人，穿着他们最好的麻瓜的衣服。弗莱德和乔治则都穿着一件质地不好的、惨绿色的新夹克。

　　“罗恩，金妮！”威斯利夫人喊道，快速地奔过来，紧紧地拥抱她的两个孩子，“噢，还有你，亲爱的哈利-你还好吗？”

　　“很好，”哈利撒着谎，威斯利夫人也紧紧地拥抱他，越过她的肩膀，他看到罗恩正目瞪口呆地看着那两个双胞胎的新衣服。

　　“这是什么做的？”他指着他们的衣服问。

　　“最好的龙皮，我的小弟弟”弗莱德说，拉了拉他的拉链，“我们的生意正蒸蒸日上，所以也该好好对待自己了。”

　　“你好，哈利，”露平说，这时威斯利夫人已经放开了哈利而转过去拥抱荷米恩了。

　　“你好，”哈利说，“我真没想到。你们都在这里干什么？”

　　“噢，”露平微笑着说，“我们想在你姨父姨妈带你回家之前，最好和他们谈谈。”

　　“我认为这不是一个好注意。”哈利马上说。

　　“嗯，我想也是。”莫迪抱怨说，他走近一点问道：“是他们吗，波特？”

　　他用拇指往后指了指，他的魔眼很显然能透过后脑勺和礼帽进行窥视。哈利往左挪了挪，看着莫迪指的地方。没错，那是德斯礼一家，正胆战心惊地看着哈利的欢迎团。

　　“啊，哈利，”威斯利先生叫道，他刚刚跟荷米恩的父母热情地打了招呼，后者现在正在拥抱荷米恩。“那么，我们是不是该做一下那件事？”

　　“没错，亚瑟。”莫迪说。

　　他们两个率先朝德斯礼一家走去，后者很显然被吓呆了。荷米恩也从她母亲那儿跑了过来。

　　“下午好，”威斯里先生在维能姨父右前方站定，愉快地说，“你一定还记得我，我叫亚瑟。威斯里。”

　　两年前威斯里先生一个人就把德斯礼家的起居室毁于一旦，哈利认为如果维能姨父会把他忘了的话，那简直令人无比惊讶。果然，维能姨父的脸变成了深褐色，他对威斯里先生怒目而视，但一个字也没说，也许是因为对方的人比德斯礼一家人多吧。

　　帕尤妮亚亚姨妈一副受惊不安的样子，她不停地环顾四周，担心被人发现她的处境。而达利，则似乎认为自己小得可以让人忽略，当然，这是根本不可能的。

　　“我们想和你谈谈关于哈利的问题。”威斯礼先生仍然微笑着说。

　　“对，”魔迪低吼道，“关于哈利在你家受到的待遇问题。”

　　维能姨父的小胡子似乎充满了愤怒，也许那顶圆礼帽给了他一种感觉：莫迪是个好对付的人，他朝他叫道：

　　“我不知道我家的什么事情会和你有关系—”

　　“我想你不知道的事情可以写满好几本书，德斯礼。”莫迪吼道。

　　“这并不是重点，”唐克斯插嘴说，看上去她的粉红色的头发使她比任何其他的人都令帕尤妮亚亚姨妈感到不快，因为后者闭上了眼睛不去看她。“重点是，如果我们发现你们在虐待哈利—”

　　“请不要犯这样的错误，我们会知道的。”露平愉快地说。

　　“对，”威斯里先生说，“如果你不允许哈利使用‘话电’的话—”

　　“电话。“荷米恩悄声说。

　　“没错，如果我们得到任何线索，你们在不公正地对待哈利的话，你们将必须作出解释。”莫迪说。

　　维能姨父简直要气炸了，他的愤怒似乎远远超过了从这些古怪的人那里受到的惊吓。

　　“你在威胁我吗，先生？！”他大声叫道，惹得旁边的路人都转过头来看他。

　　“是的，我是，”魔眼回答说，看上去为维能姨父能迅速领会而感到高兴。

　　“而我看上去是一个能被胁迫的人吗？”维能姨父咆哮着。

　　“那么，”莫迪说着，把他圆礼帽拿了下来，露出那只可怕的、不停旋转的魔眼。维能姨父惊骇地跳了起来，撞到了一辆行李手推车。“我不得不说你是那样一个人，德斯礼。”

　　他转过头看着哈利。

　　“波特，如果你需要就叫我们。如果我们连着三天都听不到你的消息，我们会派人过来。”

　　帕尤妮亚亚姨妈可怜地呜咽了一声。很显然她在想，如果让邻居看到这么一群人走在他家花园的小路上，他们将会说什么。

　　“那么，再见了，波特。”莫迪说，用一只粗糙的手抓住哈利的肩膀。

　　“小心些，哈利，”露平平静地说，“保持联系。”

　　“哈利，我们将尽快把你从那儿接出来，”威斯里夫人悄声说，又拥抱了他一下。

　　“我们马上会见到你。”罗恩急切地说，摇着哈利的手。

　　“一定很快，哈利，”荷米恩真诚地说，“我们保证。”

　　哈利点了点头。他无法向他们表达，当他看到他们都站在他身边的时候他的感受。

　　他笑了笑，挥挥手表示告别，然后转过身去走出了车站，来到阳光照耀的大街上，维能姨父，帕尤妮亚亚姨妈和达德里跟在他后头。

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