Chapter 1 Owl Post
Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways. For one thing, he hated the summer holidays more than any other time of year. For another, he really wanted to do his homework but was forced to do it in secret, in the dead of night. And he also happened to be a wizard. 
It was nearly midnight, and he was lying on his stomach in bed, the blankets drawn right over his head like a tent, a flashlight in one hand and a large leather-bound book (A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot) propped open against the pillow. Harry moved the tip of his eagle-feather quill down the page, frowning as he looked for something that would help him write his essay, ‘Witch Burning in the Fourteenth Century Was Completely Pointless — discuss.’ 
The quill paused at the top of a likely looking paragraph. Harry pushed his round glasses up the bridge of his nose, moved his flashlight closer to the book, and read: 
Non-magic people (more commonly known as Muggles) were particularly afraid of magic in medieval times, but not very good at recognizing it. On the rare occasion that they did catch a real witch or wizard, burning had no effect whatsoever. The witch or wizard would perform a basic Flame-Freezing Charm and then pretend to shriek with pain while enjoying a gentle, tickling sensation. Indeed, Wendelin the Weird enjoyed being burned so much that she allowed herself to be caught no less than forty-seven times in various disguises. Harry put his quill between his teeth and reached underneath his pillow for his inkbottle and a roll of parchment. Slowly and very carefully he unscrewed the ink bottle, dipped his quill into it, and began to write, pausing every now and then to listen, because if any of the Dursleys heard the scratching of his quill on their way to the bathroom, he'd probably find himself locked in the cupboard under the stairs for the rest of the summer. 
The Dursley family of Number Four, Privet Drive, was the reason that Harry never enjoyed his summer holidays. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and their son, Dudley, were Harry's only living relatives. They were Muggles, and they had a very medieval attitude toward magic. Harry's dead parents, who had been a witch and wizard themselves, were never mentioned under the Dursleys’ roof. For years, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had hoped that if they kept Harry as downtrodden as possible, they would be able to squash the magic out of him. To their fury, they had not been unsuccessful. These days they lived in terror of anyone finding out that Harry had spent most of the last two years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The most they could do, however, was to lock away Harry's spell books, wand, cauldron, and broomstick at the start of the summer break, and forbid him to talk to the neighbors. 
This separation from his spell books had been a real problem for Harry, because his teachers at Hogwarts had given him a lot of holiday work. One of the essays, a particularly nasty one about shrinking potions, was for Harry's least favorite teacher, Professor Snape, who would be delighted to have an excuse to give Harry detention for a month. Harry had therefore seized his chance in the first week of the holidays. While Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley had gone out into the front garden to admire Uncle Vernon's new company car (in very loud voices, so that the rest of the street would notice it too), Harry had crept downstairs, picked the lock on the cupboard under the stairs, grabbed some of his books, and hidden them in his bedroom. As long as he didn't leave spots of ink on the sheets, the Dursleys need never know that he was studying magic by night. 
Harry was particularly keen to avoid trouble with his aunt and uncle at the moment, as they were already in an especially bad mood with him, all because he'd received a telephone call from a fellow wizard one week into the school vacation. 
Ron Weasley, who was one of Harry's best friends at Hogwarts, came from a whole family of wizards. This meant that he knew a lot of things Harry didn't, but had never used a telephone before. Most unluckily, it had been Uncle Vernon who had answered the call. 
“Vernon Dursley speaking.” 
Harry, who happened to be in the room at the time, froze as he heard Ron's voice answer. 
“HELLO? HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME? I — WANT — TO — TALK — TO — HARRY — POTTER!” 
Ron was yelling so loudly that Uncle Vernon jumped and held the receiver a foot away from his ear, staring at it with an expression of mingled fury and alarm. 
“WHO IS THIS?” he roared in the direction of the mouthpiece. “WHO ARE YOU?” 
“RON — WEASLEY!” Ron bellowed back, as though he and Uncle Vernon were speaking from opposite ends of a football field. “I'M — A — FRIEND — OF — HARRY'S — FROM — SCHOOL —” 
Uncle Vernon's small eyes swiveled around to Harry, who was rooted to the spot. 
“THERE IS NO HARRY POTTER HERE!” he roared, now holding the receiver at arm's length, as though frightened it might explode. “I DON'T KNOW WHAT SCHOOL YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT! NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN! DON'T YOU COME NEAR MY FAMILY!” 
And he threw the receiver back onto the telephone as if dropping a poisonous spider. 
The fight that had followed had been one of the worst ever. 
“HOW DARE YOU GIVE THIS NUMBER TO PEOPLE LIKE — PEOPLE LIKE YOU!” Uncle Vernon had roared, spraying Harry with spit. 
Ron obviously realized that he'd gotten Harry into trouble, because he hadn't called again. Harry's other best friend from Hogwarts, Hermione Granger, hadn't been in touch either. Harry suspected that Ron had warned Hermione not to call, which was a pity, because Hermione, the cleverest witch in Harry's year, had Muggle parents, knew perfectly well how to use a telephone, and would probably have had enough sense not to say that she went to Hogwarts. 
So Harry had had no word from any of his wizarding friends for five long weeks, and this summer was turning out to be almost as bad as the last one. There was just one very small improvement — after swearing that he wouldn't use her to send letters to any of his friends, Harry had been allowed to let his owl, Hedwig, out at night. Uncle Vernon had given in because of the racket Hedwig made if she was locked in her cage all the time. 
Harry finished writing about Wendelin the Weird and paused to listen again. The silence in the dark house was broken only by the distant, grunting snores of his enormous cousin, Dudley. It must be very late, Harry thought. His eyes were itching with tiredness. Perhaps he'd finish this essay tomorrow night… 
He replaced the top of the ink bottle; pulled an old pillowcase from under his bed; put the flashlight, A History of Magic, his essay, quill, and ink inside it; got out of bed; and hid the lot under a loose floorboard under his bed. Then he stood up, stretched, and checked the time on the luminous alarm clock on his bedside table. 
It was one o'clock in the morning. Harry's stomach gave a funny jolt. He had been thirteen years old, without realizing it, for a whole hour. 
Yet another unusual thing about Harry was how little he looked forward to his birthdays. He had never received a birthday card in his life. The Dursleys had completely ignored his last two birthdays, and he had no reason to suppose they would remember this one. 
Harry walked across the dark room, past Hedwig's large, empty cage, to the open window. He leaned on the sill, the cool night air pleasant on his face after a long time under the blankets. Hedwig had been absent for two nights now. Harry wasn't worried about her: she'd been gone this long before. But he hoped she'd be back soon — she was the only living creature in this house who didn't flinch at the sight of him. 
Harry, though still rather small and skinny for his age, had grown a few inches over the last year. His jet-black hair, however, was just as it always had been — stubbornly untidy, whatever he did to it. The eyes behind his glasses were bright green, and on his forehead, clearly visible through his hair, was a thin scar, shaped like a bolt of lightning. 
Of all the unusual things about Harry, this scar was the most extraordinary of all. It was not, as the Dursleys had pretended for ten years, a souvenir of the car crash that had killed Harry's parents, because Lily and James Potter had not died in a car crash. They had been murdered, murdered by the most feared Dark wizard for a hundred years, Lord Voldemort. Harry had escaped from the same attack with nothing more than a scar on his forehead, where Voldemort's curse, instead of killing him, had rebounded upon its originator. Barely alive, Voldemort had fled… 
But Harry had come face-to-face with him at Hogwarts. Remembering their last meeting as he stood at the dark window, Harry had to admit he was lucky even to have reached his thirteenth birthday. 
He scanned the starry sky for a sign of Hedwig, perhaps soaring back to him with a dead mouse dangling from her beak, expecting praise. Gazing absently over the rooftops, it was a few seconds before Harry realized what he was seeing. 
Silhouetted against the golden moon, and growing larger every moment, was a large, strangely lopsided creature, and it was flapping in Harry's direction. He stood quite still, watching it sink lower and lower. For a split second he hesitated, his hand on the window latch, wondering whether to slam it shut. But then the bizarre creature soared over one of the street lamps of Privet Drive, and Harry, realizing what it was, leapt aside. 
Through the window soared three owls, two of them holding up the third, which appeared to be unconscious. They landed with a soft flump on Harry's bed, and the middle owl, which was large and gray, keeled right over and lay motionless. There was a large package tied to its legs. 
Harry recognized the unconscious owl at once — his name was Errol, and he belonged to the Weasley family. Harry dashed to the bed, untied the cords around Errol's legs, took off the parcel, and then carried Errol to Hedwig's cage. Errol opened one bleary eye, gave a feeble hoot of thanks, and began to gulp some water. 
Harry turned back to the remaining owls. One of them, the large snowy female, was his own Hedwig. She, too, was carrying a parcel and looked extremely pleased with herself. She gave Harry an affectionate nip with her beak as he removed her burden, then flew across the room to join Errol. 
Harry didn't recognize the third owl, a handsome tawny one, but he knew at once where it had come from, because in addition to a third package, it was carrying a letter bearing the Hogwarts crest. When Harry relieved this owl of its burden, it ruffled its feathers importantly, stretched its wings, and took off through the window into the night. 
Harry sat down on his bed and grabbed Errol's package, ripped off the brown paper, and discovered a present wrapped in gold and his first ever birthday card. Fingers trembling slightly, he opened the envelope. Two pieces of paper fell out — a letter and a newspaper clipping. 
The clipping had clearly come out of the wizarding newspaper, the Daily Prophet, because the people in the black-and-white picture were moving. Harry picked up the clipping, smoothed it out, and read: 
MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw. A delighted Mr. Weasley told the Daily Prophet, “We will be spending the gold on a summer holiday in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank.” The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley children currently attend. Harry scanned the moving photograph, and a grin spread across his face as he saw all nine of the Weasleys waving furiously at him, standing in front of a large pyramid. Plump little Mrs. Weasley; tall, balding Mr. Weasley; six sons; and one daughter, all (though the black-and-white picture didn't show it) with flaming-red hair. Right in the middle of the picture was Ron, tall and gangling, with his pet rat, Scabbers, on his shoulder and his arm around his little sister, Ginny. 
Harry couldn't think of anyone who deserved to win a large pile of gold more than the Weasleys, who were very nice and extremely poor. He picked up Ron's letter and unfolded it. 
Dear Harry, Happy birthday! Look, I'm really sorry about that telephone call. I hope the Muggles didn't give you a hard time. I asked Dad, and he reckons I shouldn't have shouted. It's amazing here in Egypt. Bill's taken us around all the tombs and you wouldn't believe the curses those old Egyptian wizards put on them. Mum wouldn't let Ginny come in the last one. There were all these mutant skeletons in there, of Muggles who'd broken in and grown extra heads and stuff. I couldn't believe it when Dad won the Daily Prophet Draw. Seven hundred galleons! Most of it's gone on this trip, but they're going to buy me a new wand for next year. Harry remembered only too well the occasion when Ron's old wand had snapped. It had happened when the car the two of them had been flying to Hogwarts had crashed into a tree on the school grounds. 
We'll be back about a week before term starts and we'll be going up to London to get my wand and our new books. Any chance of meeting you there? Don't let the Muggles get you down! Try and come to London, Ron P.S. Percy's Head Boy. He got the letter last week. Harry glanced back at the photograph. Percy, who was in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, was looking particularly smug. He had pinned his Head Boy badge to the fez perched jauntily on top of his neat hair, his horn-rimmed glasses flashing in the Egyptian sun. 
Harry now turned to his present and unwrapped it. Inside was what looked like a miniature glass spinning top. There was another note from Ron beneath it. 
Harry — this is a Pocket Sneakoscope. If there's someone untrustworthy around, it's supposed to light up and spin. Bill says it's rubbish sold for wizard tourists and isn't reliable, because it kept lighting up at dinner last night. But he didn't realize Fred and George had put beetles in his soup. Bye — Ron Harry put the Pocket Sneakoscope on his bedside table, where it stood quite still, balanced on its point, reflecting the luminous hands of his clock. He looked at it happily for a few seconds, then picked up the parcel Hedwig had brought. 
Inside this, too, there was a wrapped present, a card, and a letter, this time from Hermione. 
Dear Harry, Ron wrote to me and told me about his phone call to your Uncle Vernon. I do hope you're all right. I'm on holiday in France at the moment and I didn't know how I was going to send this to you — what if they'd opened it at customs? — but then Hedwig turned up! I think she wanted to make sure you got something for your birthday for a change. I bought your present by owl-order; there was an advertisement in the Daily Prophet (I've been getting it delivered; it's so good to keep up with what's going on in the wizarding world), Did you see that picture of Ron and his family a week ago? I bet he's learning loads. I'm really jealous — the ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating. There's some interesting local history of witchcraft here, too. I've rewritten my whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things I've found out, I hope it's not too long — it's two rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns asked for. Ron says he's going to be in London in the last week of the holidays. Can you make it? Will your aunt and uncle let you come? I really hope you can. If not, I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express on September first! Love from Hermione P.S. Ron says Percy's Head Boy. I'll bet Percy's really pleased. Ron doesn't seem too happy about it. Harry laughed as he put Hermione's letter aside and picked up her present. It was very heavy. Knowing Hermione, he was sure it would be a large book full of very difficult spells — but it wasn't. His heart gave a huge bound as he ripped back the paper and saw a sleek black leather case, with silver words stamped across it, reading Broomstick Servicing Kit. 
“Wow, Hermione!” Harry whispered, unzipping the case to look inside. 
There was a large jar of Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish, a pair of gleaming silver Tail-Twig Clippers, a tiny brass compass to clip on your broom for long journeys, and a Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare. 
Apart from his friends, the thing that Harry missed most about Hogwarts was Quidditch, the most popular sport in the magical world — highly dangerous, very exciting, and played on broomsticks. Harry happened to be a very good Quidditch player; he had been the youngest person in a century to be picked for one of the Hogwarts House teams. One of Harry's most prized possessions was his Nimbus Two Thousand racing broom. 
Harry put the leather case aside and picked up his last parcel. He recognized the untidy scrawl on the brown paper at once: this was from Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper. He tore off the top layer of paper and glimpsed something green and leathery, but before he could unwrap it properly, the parcel gave a strange quiver, and whatever was inside it snapped loudly — as though it had jaws. 
Harry froze. He knew that Hagrid would never send him anything dangerous on purpose, but then, Hagrid didn't have a normal person's view of what was dangerous. Hagrid had been known to befriend giant spiders, buy vicious, three-headed dogs from men in pubs, and sneak illegal dragon eggs into his cabin. 
Harry poked the parcel nervously. It snapped loudly again. Harry reached for the lamp on his bedside table, gripped it firmly in one hand, and raised it over his head, ready to strike. Then he seized the rest of the wrapping paper in his other hand and pulled. 
And out fell — a book. Harry just had time to register its handsome green cover, emblazoned with the golden title The Monster Book of Monsters, before it flipped onto its edge and scuttled sideways along the bed like some weird crab. 
“Uh-oh,” Harry muttered. 
The book toppled off the bed with a loud clunk and shuffled rapidly across the room. Harry followed it stealthily. The book was hiding in the dark space under his desk. Praying that the Dursleys were still fast asleep, Harry got down on his hands and knees and reached toward it. 
“Ouch!” 
The book snapped shut on his hand and then flapped past him, still scuttling on its covers. Harry scrambled around, threw himself forward, and managed to flatten it. Uncle Vernon gave a loud, sleepy grunt in the room next door. 
Hedwig and Errol watched interestedly as Harry clamped the struggling book tightly in his arms, hurried to his chest of drawers, and pulled out a belt, which he buckled tightly around it. The Monster Book shuddered angrily, but could no longer flap and snap, so Harry threw it down on the bed and reached for Hagrid's card. 
Dear Harry, Happy Birthday! Think you might find this useful for next year. Won't say no more here. Tell you when I see you. Hope the Muggles are treating you right. All the best, Hagrid It struck Harry as ominous that Hagrid thought a biting book would come in useful, but he put Hagrid's card up next to Ron's and Hermione's, grinning more broadly than ever. Now there was only the letter from Hogwarts left. 
Noticing that it was rather thicker than usual, Harry slit open the envelope, pulled out the first page of parchment within, and read: 
Dear Mr. Potter, Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock. Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign. A list of books for next year is enclosed. Yours sincerely, Professor M. McGonagall Deputy Headmistress Harry pulled out the Hogsmeade permission form and looked at it, no longer grinning. It would be wonderful to visit Hogsmeade on weekends; he knew it was an entirely wizarding village, and he had never set foot there. But how on earth was he going to persuade Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia to sign the form? 
He looked over at the alarm clock. It was now two o'clock in the morning. 
Deciding that he'd worry about the Hogsmeade form when he woke up, Harry got back into bed and reached up to cross off another day on the chart he'd made for himself, counting down the days left until his return to Hogwarts. Then he took off his glasses and lay down; eyes open, facing his three birthday cards. 
Extremely unusual though he was, at that moment Harry Potter felt just like everyone else — glad, for the first time in his life, that it was his birthday. 
哈利·波特是一个在很多方面都非常不寻常的男孩。其中，他最讨厌放暑假；还有，他很喜欢做功课，但不得不秘密地进行，通常只能在深夜，因为，他是一个巫士。 
　　现在是差不多深夜了，他仰躺在床上，那毛毯像帐篷一样刚刚盖住他的头。他一手拿着电筒，一手拿着一本用皮革装订的书——《魔法的历史》，书放在枕头上打开。哈利用他那支羽毛笔轻轻地翻书，皱着眉头寻找资料来写他的论文“在十四世纪时火烧巫婆完全是无稽之谈”。 
　　那羽毛笔在一段注目的文字顶停留下来，哈利把鼻子上的圆眼镜向上托了托，把电筒移近书仔细地读：“没有魔法的人（通常称为”马格人“）在中世纪时尤其畏惧魔法，但却不屑于认识它。有时在罕有的场合，他们的确捉到巫师或巫婆，不顾后果地把他们烧死。那些巫师或巫婆则会凝火法，然后假装惨叫，其实是在享受一种温和酥痒的感觉。实际上，温德林很喜欢被烧的感觉，她扮成不同的巫婆故意让人抓了不少于四十七次。” 
　　哈利把羽毛笔放到嘴里咬着，伸手到枕头底探索他的墨水瓶和一卷羊皮纸，他小心翼翼地扭开墨水瓶盖，用那支羽毛笔轻轻地蘸湿然后开始写。时不时地停下来并认真听着外面，因为如果社斯利在上厕所途中听到他的那支羽毛笔写字的摩擦声，他很可能又叫他在楼梯下的橱柜里住到暑假的结束。 
　　杜斯利一家三口，维能姨丈、帕尤妮亚姨妈和他们的儿子达德里，是哈利的亲戚。他们都是“马格人”，他们对魔法还是抱着中世纪时的态度。哈利已故的父母都是优秀的魔法师，但是在杜斯利家从来没提起过他们。多年来，帕尤妮亚姨妈和维能姨丈尽量遏制哈利，以为这样可以把他对魔法的梦想破碎。让他们气愤的是，他们从未能成功。现在他们在担忧有天谁会发现哈利曾在霍格瓦彻学校中学了两年时间的巫术。杜斯利所能做的只是把哈利的魔咒书。 
　　魔杖和魔扫帚整个暑假都锁起来，并且禁止他跟邻居说话。 
　　这的确成了哈利的问题，因为霍格瓦彻学校中的老师给他布置了很多暑假作业，其中有一篇论文，一篇关于收缩剂的作业，这是哈利最不喜欢的史纳皮教授布置的，这教授是不会为哈利找借口让他延迟一个月再交的。因此在放假开始时，哈利就有所行动了。当维能姨丈与帕尤妮亚姨妈和达德里出去前花园欣赏维能姨丈公司的新汽车时，（他们把声音故意放大，好让街上的人也注意到），哈利蹑手蹑脚下楼梯，打开楼梯下的橱柜，拿走了一些书并藏到他的枕头下面。只要他不要在床单上留下墨水汁，杜斯利一家也许不会知道他晚上在做魔法作业。 
　　哈利这阵子尽量避免和他的姨妈姨丈发生争执，因为他们都不高兴地在放假的第一星期就接到一个同学的电话。 
　　哈利在霍格瓦彻最好的朋友罗思。威斯里，他是出生于一个魔法师的家庭，这意味着他知道许多哈利所不知晓的事，但这之前他从没有用过电话联系哈利的，最糟糕的是，那电话是维能姨丈接听的。 
　　“我是维能。杜斯利。” 
　　哈利那时恰好在旁边，他听到罗恩的声音时简直呆住了。 
　　“你好！你好！听见吗？麻烦你帮我叫哈利·波特听电话。” 
　　罗恩大声地嚷着，维能吓了一跳并把话筒放到距耳朵一尺远，充满着警惕和愤怒的瞪着电话。 
　　“你是谁？”他朝着话孔大声吼道，“你是谁？” 
　　“罗恩。威斯里！”罗思也向他吼叫，好像正和维能姨丈在足球场的两边对话一般。“我是哈利在学校的朋友。” 
　　维能姨丈的小眼珠旋转着望着哈利。哈利在旁边像生了根般站立着。 
　　“这里没有人叫哈利·波特！”他吼道，把话筒放到手臂长度的距离外，仿佛它会炸开，“我不知道你在说什么鬼学校，不要再打过来，不要接近我家人。” 
　　然后他把话筒扔到电话上，如拍死一只毒蜘蛛一般。 
　　随后的责骂便是有始以来最厉害的一次。 
　　“你怎能把电话号码给那些——那些像你一样的人！”维能大声地吼，把哈利喷得满脸口水。 
　　很明显罗恩意识到他给哈利添麻烦了，所以他不再打电话过来了。哈利与其它在霍格瓦彻的好朋友，如荷米恩。格林位，也失去联络了。哈利怀疑是罗恩叫她不要打电话，这十分遗憾，因为她也不再打电话过来了。 
　　因为荷米恩是哈利年级中最聪明的，她的父母都不懂魔法，她十分清楚怎样打电话，并且很理智地说她不曾上过霍格瓦彻学校。 
　　因此，哈利五个星期之久都没有他朋友的消息了。而且他的暑假过得像去年一样糟，但有一点点进步的是，在他发誓不利用海维来给他的朋友送信之后，又可以用海维在晚上送信了，维能在这方面让步了，因为海维关在笼子会闷得大声喧闹。 
　　哈利写完了有关温德林的论文，然后又停下来听，屋内的沉静被远处的咕嗜咕嗜打鼾声打破，一定很晚了，哈利的眼睛因疲惫而发痒了。也许明晚他就可以完成这论文了。 
　　他盖上墨水瓶的盖子，从床下拉出一个旧枕头套，把电筒。 
　　《魔法历史》、他的论文、羽毛笔和墨水都放进去，然后跳下床把这些放到一块松的地砖下面。然后站起来，伸伸腰，看了看他床前桌上明亮的小闹钟。 
　　已经是凌晨一点了。哈利突然意识到他已经十三岁了，这他从没有注意过。 
　　哈利不由得开始盼望自己的生日。他从来没有收过生日卡，杜斯利完全忽视他过去的两个生日，他想，看来他们也没什么理由会记起今年的了。 
　　哈利横过他那漆黑的房间，经过海维的大而空的笼子，打开窗口。他靠在窗台，长时间盖在毛毯里，他感受到了晚风的清凉，海维已经离开了两天，哈利并不担心她……她离开很久了……但他希望她快点回来，她是这房间里唯一他不畏惧的生物。 
　　哈利，从他的年龄看仍然太小太瘦，虽然在过去一年中他高了几寸。他漆黑的头发仍是一样的，很顽固的疯长。眼镜后的眼睛是青色的，在他额上，透过头发仍能清晰看到一道形状奇特的疤痕，好像一道闪电似的。 
　　发生在哈利身上所有奇特的事中，这疤痕是最为突出的。这不是杜斯利一家所说的是那次使哈利父母亡故的车祸所留下的印记，因为莉莉和杰姆斯。波特并不是死于车祸，他们是被百年来最可怕的黑暗巫师福尔得摩特所谋杀的，哈利在他的魔咒袭击下成为唯一的幸存者，额上却留下了闪电疤痕。那时候，福尔得摩特的咒语不但杀不死哈利，还使他自己失去了魔力和躯体。 
　　哈利从上霍格瓦彻之后便开始与他正面斗争了。一想起在窗前遇见他那次，哈利不得不承认他能活到十三岁已经很幸运了。 
　　他望着布满星星的天空，寻觅着海维的影子，在想也许她嘴里咬着一只死老鼠正向他飞过来领赏。心不在焉的哈利看着屋顶，突然印入他眼帘的是：金黄色的月亮下有一个似三角形的黑影，而且似三角形的黑影变得越来越大，并且不断摆动着。 
　　他站得直直的，看着它越降越低，一刹那间，他犹豫了，他的手停在窗柱上，不知道是否要把窗关上，但之后那奇异影子猛地飞到街道上的街灯上面，哈利意识到那是动物，于是立即跃到一边。 
　　从窗口飞进来的是三只猫头鹰，其中两只是托着第三只的，它看上去受伤了。 
　　它们轻轻地停在哈利的床上，中间那头壮大猫头鹰，是灰色的，倒在那里一动不动地躺着，它脚上系着一袋东西。 
　　哈利认出那昏迷的猫头鹰，它叫厄罗尔，是威斯里家里的。哈利立刻冲到床前，解开厄罗尔脚上的绳子，把袋子取下来并把厄罗尔放到海维的笼子里面。这时厄罗尔睁开朦胧的眼，发出低沉的鸣叫来表示谢意，并且开始喝水。 
　　哈利向另外的猫头鹰看去，其中一只是很大的雪白的母猫头鹰，是他的海维，她也带着一个小包，并且看上去很高兴。她在哈利给她解开系在脚上的小包后，用尖嘴深情地夹了他一下，然后飞去厄罗尔那里。 
　　哈利认不出第三只猫头鹰，它是黄褐色的，很英俊。但立刻他知道它从哪来的，因为除了带有个小包之外，它还带着霍格瓦彻的鸡毛信。哈利马上取下这猫头鹰的信。它振动了一下羽毛，然后张开它的翅膀，从窗口飞向夜空中。 
　　哈利坐在床边，拿起厄罗尔的小包，撕开那褐色的纸，看清了包着的东西，他的第一张生日卡！他用颤动的手指打开生日卡，两张纸掉了下来——一封信与一张剪下的报纸。 
　　那剪下的报纸明显是魔法报纸《先知日报》，因为黑白照里的人是会动的。哈利拿起那剪下的报纸，把它弄平开始读：魔法部门的部长获得巨奖亚瑟。威斯里，魔法部办公室的领导，赢得《先知日报》每年一度的巨奖，马格人制造的西班牙帆船金币。威斯里还高兴地告诉《先知日报》：“我们在暑假会去埃及看金字塔，在那儿，我最大的儿子比尔在廉法格林高斯银行工作。” 
　　威斯里一家会在埃及停留一个月，在霍格瓦彻学校开学时回来，因为威斯里的五个孩子在那里上学。 
　　哈利看着那些移动的照片，当他看到威斯里一家九口站在金字塔上疯狂地向他挥手的时候，不由得微笑起来。丰满而矮小的威斯里太太，高而秃顶的威斯里先生，六个儿子和一个女儿，全都（虽然黑白照没有显示出来）有好像是火一般的红发。 
　　在照片中间的就是罗恩，又高又瘦，肩上是他的宠物小鼠斯卡伯斯，他携着他的妹妹金妮。 
　　哈利想不起还有谁比威斯里更有资格获这个巨奖，因为他实在太好了，并且又是那么穷。随后他拿起罗恩的信打开它。 
　　亲爱的哈利：生日快乐！ 
　　看，我真该为我打给你的电话说声抱歉，我真的希望“马格人”没有难为你。 
　　我问过爸爸，他也认为我不应该这样做的。 
　　埃及这里实在太好了，比尔带我们看了所有的金字塔，你也许不相信那里到处都有金字塔墓的咒语。妈妈不让金妮走在最后是因为那里有许多头颅，是那些马格人闯进来便迷路了以致死在这里。 
　　我实在难以相信爸爸赢得《先知日报》的大奖，有700个帆船币，现在在这个假期中都用得差不多了，但他们还是准备给我买一根新的魔杖。 
　　哈利很清楚记得罗恩的魔杖被折断的事，那时候，他们的车正飞快驶进霍格瓦彻学校时，意外撞到校门的一颗大树。 
　　我们将在开学前的那个星期四到伦敦去买我的魔杖和书，不知道有没有机会见到你呢？ 
　　不要让“马格人”击倒你。 
　　尽量争取机会到伦敦来。 
　　罗恩。 
　　附：伯希获得优秀青年奖，他在上星期已经收到通知了。 
　　哈利望望那照片。伯希在霍格瓦彻上七年级，而且是最后一年了。他看上去特别高兴，他轻快地把他的优秀青年徽章系在他的魔法帽边，他那四方形的眼镜在埃及的太阳下正闪闪发光。 
　　哈利接着把罗思的那包礼物解开，里面是个有旋转型项的微型杯，并且还有罗恩的另一张便条。 
　　哈利——这是袖珍的“史尼卡可”，如果周围有不可信任的人。 
　　它会自动旋转起来的，比尔说这是卖给巫师游客的纪念品，并不可信的。因为昨天吃饭时它一直在转动，但是比尔没有注意到弗来德和乔治把甲壳虫放进他的汤里。 
　　再见——罗恩。 
　　哈利把袖珍的“史尼卡可”放到他的床边，竖直放着，两边平衡，这时，影出他的闹钟发亮的时针，他高兴地看了几秒，然后拿起海维送来的小包。 
　　里面也是包着的礼物，有一张卡与一封信，这是荷米恩写给他的。 
　　亲爱的哈利：罗恩写信告诉我，你维能姨丈接到了他打给你的电话，我真的希望你没事。 
　　我现在在法国度假，我不知道怎样把这些寄给你——万一你姨丈他们如平常一样打开信箱——这时，海维出现了。我想她想让你今年的生日有所不同——能够收到礼物，我按猫头鹰的指导给你买了一件礼物。《先知日报》中已经报导了，我已经给你寄过来了，这样你就可以知道魔法领域上发生的事，你看到罗恩与他家一个星期前的照片了吗？我打赌他在那里学到了大量知识，我真羡慕他，远古的埃及人实在令人迷惑，他们是怎样把金字塔建造出来的。 
　　以及当地有趣的魔法历史。 
　　现在我已经重写我的《魔法的历史》论文了。重新加入一些我最近学到的知识，我想，不会很长，大概是两卷羊皮纸。比宾西教授要求的长一些。 
　　罗恩说他准备在假期的最后一星期去伦敦。到时你能去吗？你姨丈和姨妈会让你出来吗？我真希望你能去，如果不行，我们将会在霍格瓦彻的列车上见面的。 
　　来自于荷米恩附：罗恩说伯希拿优秀青年奖，我打赌伯希一定非常高兴，罗恩好像为此而不太高兴。 
　　哈利把荷米恩的信放在一边，拿起她送来的礼物，他笑了笑。 
　　很重，因为他了解荷米恩，知道这会是一本很难拼读的书——然而却不是！当他撕开纸时看到一个光亮黑皮框上盖着银色字样的邮票戳——“扫帚维护箱”的时候，他的心剧烈地在跳动。 
　　“啊，荷米恩！”哈利默默地说，打开那框往里看。 
　　那里有一桶弗里沃的高质量油漆。一双发亮的银剪刀，一个小型低青铜笛——是在旅途上消遣用的。还有一本《扫帚维护手册》。 
　　除了他的朋友，哈利对霍格瓦彻最恩念的是快迪斯，这是魔法领域中最受欢迎的运动——很危险，很刺激，是在扫帚上玩的。哈利恰恰是玩快迪斯的高手。是霍格瓦彻校园队中被排出的最年轻的一个队员，哈利最宝贵的珍藏品中有他的“灵光2000”型扫帚。 
　　哈利把皮框放在一边，又拿起另一个猫头鹰带回来的小包，他认出褐纸上的潦草字迹了，这是哈格力的，是霍格瓦彻猎场看守人，他撕开第一层纸便看到青色的皮草质的东西，正当他设法解开它时那东西奇怪地震动一下，里面传出似有钳东西的声音。 
　　哈利吓呆了，他知道哈格力永远不会故意给他危险的东西，但哈格力没有正常人的危险观念的。大家都知道哈格力对巨型蜘蛛特别有兴趣，从酒吧的男人手中买来恶毒的三头狗，还在他的小屋中窝藏非法的龙蛋。 
　　哈利紧张地解那小包，这时又传出轻微的爆裂声。哈利走到床头边的桌台旁，紧紧抓住它，把它举到头上，然后他用另一只手抓着包装纸狠狠地拉。 
　　掉下来的——是一本书，像只蟹跌落的时候，他看清了，书的一角被撕破了，封面是青色的，书名用镀金写着《妖怪的魔书》。 
　　“哦，嗯。”哈利咕哝。 
　　书跌到床上发出沉浊的碰击声，慢慢地滚过房间，哈利悄悄地跟著书，书落到他黑乎乎的桌子下面一角。他祈祷杜斯利一家还在熟睡，哈利跪下来，爬在地上用手去抓它。 
　　“噢！” 
　　书在他手上“砰”的一声合上了，然后从他身边滚过，哈利急忙纵身扑过去并把书压在手下，隔壁房传来维能姨丈大声的鼻鼾声。 
　　海维和厄罗尔有趣地看着哈利把书抓住，并挣扎般把书束在怀中，迅速走到床头柜还拿出一条皮带，用来紧紧束上那本书。魔书战栗着，它不能走也不能再响了。 
　　因而哈利把它扔在床上又打开哈格力给他的生日卡。 
　　亲爱的哈利：生日快乐！ 
　　我想你会发现这书在下学期中很有用的，我在这不多说了，见到你时再聊吧。 
　　希望“马格人”好好对待你。 
　　给你最好的祝愿。 
　　哈格力哈利为哈格力认为这本书有用而感到不解，但是他还是把哈格力的生日卡跟罗恩和荷米思的放在一起，咧开嘴笑得更开心，现在只剩下来自霍格瓦彻的信了。哈利发觉它比一般的信要厚，他撕开信封口，拿出羊皮纸的第一张来看：亲爱的波特先生：很高兴告诉你新学期在九月一日开始，霍格瓦彻列车会从国王大道十字车站开出，在第九又四分之三站台，十一点三刻出发。 
　　三年级的学生允许在某些周末参观霍格马得的村庄，请你附寄你的家长或监护人签名回来。 
　　明年课程的书名列表在内。 
　　真诚的麦康娜教授副校长哈利停住笑了，抽出霍格马得的同意书来看，能在周末参观霍格马得村庄该多好呀，他知道那里是真正的魔法之村，他从来没去过。但究竟怎样他才能劝到维能姨丈和帕尤妮亚姨妈在表格上签名呢？ 
　　他看了看闹钟，已经是凌晨二点了。 
　　他站起来时就担心霍格马得的表格，他走回床边伸手把自制的台历撕去一张，倒数着他回霍格瓦彻学校的日子，然后地摘下眼镜躺下来，睁开眼看着他那三张生日贺卡。 
　　虽然他确实不寻常，但是哈利·波特觉得自己跟其他人一样，为他的生日第一次收到贺卡很高兴。 
Chapter 3 The Knight Bus
Harry was several streets away before he collapsed onto a low wall in Magnolia Crescent, panting from the effort of dragging his trunk. He sat quite still, anger still surging through him, listening to the frantic thumping of his heart. 
But after ten minutes alone in the dark street, a new emotion overtook him: panic. Whichever way he looked at it, he had never been in a worse fix. He was stranded, quite alone, in the dark Muggle world, with absolutely nowhere to go. And the worst of it was, he had just done serious magic, which meant that he was almost certainly expelled from Hogwarts. He had broken the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry so badly, he was surprised Ministry of Magic representatives weren't swooping down on him where he sat. 
Harry shivered and looked up and down Magnolia Crescent. 
What, was going to happen to him? Would he be arrested, or would he simply be outlawed from the wizarding world? He thought of Ron and Hermione, and his heart sank even lower. Harry was sure that, criminal or not, Ron and Hermione would want to help him now, but they were both abroad, and with Hedwig gone, he had no means of contacting them. 
He didn't have any Muggle money, either. There was a little wizard gold in the money bag at the bottom of his trunk, but the rest of the fortune his parents had left him was stored in a vault at Gringotts Wizarding Bank in London. He'd never be able to drag his trunk all the way to London. Unless… 
He looked down at his wand, which he was still clutching in his hand. If he was already expelled (his heart was. now thumping painfully fast), a bit more magic couldn't hurt. He had the Invisibility Cloak he had inherited from his father — what if he bewitched the trunk to make it feather-light, tied it to his broomstick, covered himself in the cloak, and flew to London? Then he could get the rest of his money out of his vault and…begin his life as an outcast. It was a horrible prospect, but he couldn't sit on this wall forever, or he'd find himself trying to explain to Muggle police why he was out in the dead of night with a trunk full of spell books and a broomstick. 
Harry opened his trunk again and pushed the contents aside, looking for the Invisibility Cloak — but before he had found it, he straightened up suddenly, looking around him once more. 
A funny prickling on the back of his neck had made Harry feel he was being watched, but the street appeared to be deserted, and no lights shone from any of the large square houses. 
He bent over his trunk again, but almost immediately stood up once more, his hand clenched on his wand. He had sensed rather than heard it: someone or something was standing in the narrow gap between the garage and the fence behind him. Harry squinted at the black alleyway. If only it would move, then he'd know whether it was just a stray cat or — something else. 
“Lumos,” Harry muttered, and a light appeared at the end of his wand, almost dazzling him. He held it high over his head, and the pebble-dashed walls of number two suddenly sparkled; the garage door gleamed, and between them Harry saw, quite distinctly, the hulking outline of something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes. 
Harry stepped backward. His legs hit his trunk and he tripped. His wand flew out of his hand as he flung out an arm to break his fall, and he landed, hard, in the gutter. 
There was a deafening BANG, and Harry threw up his hands to shield his eyes against a sudden blinding light… 
With a yell, he rolled back onto the pavement, just in time. A second later, a gigantic pair of wheels and headlights screeched to a halt exactly where Harry had just been lying. They belonged, as Harry saw when he raised his head, to a triple-decker, violently purple bus, which had appeared out of thin air. Gold lettering over the windshield spelled The Knight Bus. 
For a split second, Harry wondered if he had been knocked silly by his fall. Then a conductor in a purple uniform leapt out of the bus and began to speak loudly to the night. 
“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve—” 
The conductor stopped abruptly. He had just caught sight of Harry, who was still sitting on the ground. Harry snatched up his wand again and scrambled to his feet. Close up, he saw that Stan Shunpike was only a few years older than he was, eighteen or nineteen at most, with large, protruding ears and quite a few pimples. 
“What were you doin’ down there?” said Stan, dropping his professional manner. 
“Fell over,” said Harry. 
“'Choo fall over for?” sniggered Stan. 
“I didn't do it on purpose,” said Harry, annoyed. One of the knees in his jeans was torn, and the hand he had thrown out to break his fall was bleeding. He suddenly remembered why he had fallen over and turned around quickly to stare at the alleyway between the garage and fence. The Knight Bus's headlamps were flooding it with light, and it was empty. 
“‘Choo lookin’ at?” said Stan. 
“There was a big black thing,” said Harry, pointing uncertainly into the gap. “Like a dog…but massive…” 
He looked around at Stan, whose mouth was slightly open. With a feeling of unease, Harry saw Stan's eyes move to the scar on Harry's forehead. 
“Woss that on your ‘ead?” said Stan abruptly. 
“Nothing,” said Harry quickly, flattening his hair over his scar. If the Ministry of Magic was looking for him, he didn't want to make it too easy for them. 
“Woss your name?” Stan persisted. 
“Neville Longbottom,” said Harry, saying the first name that came into his head. “So — so this bus,” he went on quickly, hoping to distract Stan, “did you say it goes anywhere?” 
“Yep,” said Stan proudly, “anywhere you like, ‘long it's on land. Can't do nuffink underwater. 
“Ere,” he said, looking suspicious again, “you did flag us down, dincha? Stuck out your wand ‘and, dincha?” 
“Yes,” said Harry quickly. “Listen, how much would it be to get to London?” 
“Eleven Sickles,” said Stan, “but for firteen you get ‘ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an ‘ot-water bottle an’ a toofbrush in the color of your choice.” 
Harry rummaged once more in his trunk, extracted his money bag, and shoved some gold into Stan's hand. He and Stan then lifted his trunk, with Hedwig's cage balanced on top, up the steps of the bus. 
There were no seats; instead, half a dozen brass bedsteads stood beside the curtained windows. Candles were burning in brackets beside each bed, illuminating the wood-paneled walls. A tiny wizard in a nightcap at the rear of the bus muttered, “Not now, thanks, I'm pickling some slugs” and rolled over in his sleep. 
“You ‘ave this one,” Stan whispered, shoving Harry's trunk under the bed right behind the driver, who was sitting in an armchair in front of the steering wheel. “This is our driver, Ernie Prang. This is Neville Longbottom, Ern.” 
Ernie Prang, an elderly wizard wearing very thick glasses, nodded to Harry, who nervously flattened his bangs again and sat down on his bed. 
“Take ‘er away, Ern,” said Stan, sitting down in the armchair next to Ernie's. 
There was another tremendous BANG, and the next moment Harry found himself flat on his bed, thrown backward by the speed of the Knight Bus. Pulling himself up, Harry stared out of the dark window and saw that they were now bowling along a completely different street. Stan was watching Harry's stunned face with great enjoyment. 
“This is where we was before you flagged us down,” he said. “Where are we, Ern? Somewhere in Wales?” 
“Ar,” said Ernie. 
“How come the Muggles don't hear the bus?” said Harry. 
“Them!” said Stan contemptuously. “Don’ listen properly, do they? Don’ look properly either. Never notice nuffink, they don'.” 
“Best go wake up Madam Marsh, Stan,” said Ern. “We'll be in Abergavenny in a minute.” 
Stan passed Harry's bed and disappeared up a narrow wooden staircase. Harry was still looking out of the window, feeling increasingly nervous. Ernie didn't seem to have mastered the use of a steering wheel. The Knight Bus kept mounting the pavement, but it didn't hit anything; lines of lampposts, mailboxes, and trash cans jumped out of its way as it approached and back into position once it had passed. 
Stan came back downstairs, followed by a faintly green witch wrapped in a traveling cloak. 
“'Ere you go, Madam Marsh,” said Stan happily as Ern stamped on the brake and the beds slid a foot or so toward the front of the bus. Madam Marsh clamped a handkerchief to her mouth and tottered down the steps. Stan threw her bag out after her and rammed the doors shut; there was another loud BANG, and they were thundering down a narrow country lane, trees leaping out of the way. 
Harry wouldn't have been able to sleep even if he had been traveling on a bus that didn't keep banging loudly and jumping a hundred miles at a time. His stomach churned as he fell back to wondering what was going to happen to him, and whether the Dursleys had managed to get Aunt Marge off the ceiling yet. 
Stan had unfurled a copy of the Daily Prophet and was now reading with his tongue between his teeth. A large photograph of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair blinked slowly at Harry from the front page. He looked strangely familiar. 
“That man!” Harry said, forgetting his troubles for a moment. “He was on the Muggle news!” 
Stanley turned to the front page and chuckled. 
“Sirius Black,” he said, nodding. “‘Course ‘e was on the Muggle news, Neville. Where you been?” 
He gave a superior sort of chuckle at the blank look on Harry's face, removed the front page, and handed it to Harry. 
“You oughta read the papers more, Neville.” 
Harry held the paper up to the candlelight and read: 
BLACK STILL AT LARGESirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today. “We are doing all we can to recapture Black,” said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, “and we beg the magical community to remain calm.” Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis. “Well, really, I had to, don't you know,” said an irritable Fudge. “Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it — who'd believe him if he did?” While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse. Harry looked into the shadowed eyes of Sirius Black, the only part of the sunken face that seemed alive. Harry had never met a vampire, but he had seen pictures of them in his Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, and Black, with his waxy white skin, looked just like one. 
“Scary-lookin’ fing, inee?” said Stan, who had been watching Harry read. 
“He murdered thirteen people?” said Harry, handing the page back to Stan, “with one curse?” 
“Yep,” said Stan, “in front of witnesses an’ all. Broad daylight. Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?” 
“Ar,” said Ern darkly. 
Stan swiveled in his armchair, his hands on the back, the better to look at Harry. 
“Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-‘Oo,” he said. 
“What, Voldemort?” said Harry, without thinking. 
Even Stan's pimples went white; Ern jerked the steering wheel so hard that a whole farmhouse had to jump aside to avoid the bus. 
“You outta your tree?” yelped Stan. “‘Choo say ‘is name for?” 
“Sorry,” said Harry hastily. “Sorry, I — I forgot —” 
“Forgot!” said Stan weakly. “Blimey, my ‘eart's goin’ that fast…” 
“So — so Black was a supporter of You-Know-Who?” Harry prompted apologetically. 
“Yeah,” said Stan, still rubbing his chest. “Yeah, that's right. Very close to You-Know-‘Oo, they say…anyway, when little ‘Arry Potter got the better of You-Know-‘Oo” — Harry nervously flattened his bangs down again — “all You-Know-‘Oo's supporters was tracked down, wasn't they, Ern? Most of ‘em knew it was all over, wiv You-Know-‘Oo gone, and they came quiet. But not Sirius Black. I ‘eard he thought ‘e'd be second-in-command once You-Know-‘Oo ‘ad taken over. 
“Anyway, they cornered Black in the middle of a street full of Muggles an’ Black took out ‘is wand and ‘e blasted ‘alf the street apart, an’ a wizard got it, an’ so did a dozen Muggles what got in the way. ‘Orrible, eh? An’ you know what Black did then?” Stan continued in a dramatic whisper. 
“What?” said Harry. 
“Laughed,” said Stan. “Jus’ stood there an’ laughed. An’ when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, ‘e went wiv em quiet as anyfink, still laughing ‘is ‘ead off. ‘Cos ‘e's mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?” 
“If he weren't when he went to Azkaban, he will be now,” said Ern in his slow voice. “I'd blow meself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind you…after what he did…” 
“They ‘ad a job coverin’ it up, din’ they, Ern?” Stan said. “‘Ole street blown up an’ all them Muggles dead. What was it they said ‘ad ‘appened, Ern?” 
“Gas explosion,” grunted Ernie. 
“An’ now ‘e's out,” said Stan, examining the newspaper picture of Black's gaunt face again. “Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, ‘as there, Ern? Beats me ‘ow ‘e did it. Frightenin', eh? Mind, I don't fancy ‘is chances against them Azkaban guards, eh, Ern?” 
Ernie suddenly shivered. “Talk about summat else, Stan, there's a good lad. Them Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles.” 
Stan put the paper away reluctantly, and Harry leaned against the window of the Knight Bus, feeling worse than ever. He couldn't help imagining what Stan might be telling his passengers in a few nights’ time. 
“‘Ear about that ‘Arry Potter? Blew up ‘is aunt! We ‘ad ‘im ‘ere on the Knight Bus, di'n't we, Ern? ‘E was tryin’ to run for it…” 
He, Harry, had broken wizard law just like Sirius Black. Was inflating Aunt Marge bad enough to land him in Azkaban? Harry didn't know anything about the wizard prison, though everyone he'd ever heard speak of it did so in the same fearful tone. Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had spent two months there only last year. Harry wouldn't soon forget the look of terror on Hagrid's face when he had been told where he was going, and Hagrid was one of the bravest people Harry knew. 
The Knight Bus rolled through the darkness, scattering bushes and wastebaskets, telephone booths and trees, and Harry lay, restless and miserable, on his feather bed. After a while, Stan remembered that Harry had paid for hot chocolate, but poured it all over Harry's pillow when the bus moved abruptly from Anglesea to Aberdeen. One by one, wizards and witches in dressing gowns and slippers descended from the upper floors to leave the bus. They all looked very pleased to go. 
Finally, Harry was the only passenger left. 
“Right then, Neville,” said Stan, clapping his hands, “whereabouts in London?” 
“Diagon Alley,” said Harry. 
“Righto,” said Stan. “‘Old tight, then.” 
BANG. 
They were thundering along Charing Cross Road. Harry sat up and watched buildings and benches squeezing themselves out of the Knight Bus's way. The sky was getting a little lighter. He would lie low for a couple of hours, go to Gringotts the moment it opened, then set off — where, he didn't know. 
Ern slammed on the brakes and the Knight Bus skidded to a halt in front of a small and shabby-looking pub, the Leaky Cauldron, behind which lay the magical entrance to Diagon Alley. 
“Thanks,” Harry said to Ern. 
He jumped down the steps and helped Stan lower his trunk and Hedwig's cage onto the pavement. 
“Well,” said Harry. “‘Bye then!” 
But Stan wasn't paying attention. Still standing in the doorway to the bus) he was goggling at the shadowy entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. 
“There you are, Harry,” said a voice. 
Before Harry could turn, he felt a hand on his shoulder. At the same time, Stan shouted, “Blimey! Ern, come ‘ere! Come ‘ere!” 
Harry looked up at the owner of the hand on his shoulder and felt a bucketful of ice cascade into his stomach — he had walked right into Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself. 
Stan leapt onto the pavement beside them. 
“What didja call Neville, Minister?” he said excitedly. 
Fudge, a portly little man in a long, pinstriped cloak, looked cold and exhausted. 
“Neville?” he repeated, frowning. “This is Harry Potter.” 
“I knew it!” Stan shouted gleefully. “Ern! Ern! Guess ‘oo Neville is, Ern! ‘E's ‘Arry Potter! I can see ‘is scar!” 
“Yes,” said Fudge testily, “well, I'm very glad the Knight Bus picked Harry up, but he and I need to step inside the Leaky Cauldron now…” 
Fudge increased the pressure on Harry's shoulder, and Harry found himself being steered inside the pub. A stooping figure bearing a lantern appeared through the door behind the bar. It was Tom, the wizened, toothless landlord. 
“You've got him, Minister!” said Tom. “Will you be wanting anything? Beer? Brandy?” 
“Perhaps a pot of tea,” said Fudge, who still hadn't let go of Harry. 
There was a loud scraping and puffing from behind them, and Stan and Ern appeared, carrying Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage and looking around excitedly. 
“‘Ow come you di'n't tell us ‘oo you are, eh, Neville?” said Stan, beaming at Harry, while Ernie's owlish face peered interestedly over Stan's shoulder. 
“And a private parlor, please, Tom,” said Fudge pointedly. 
“‘Bye,” Harry said miserably to Stan and Ern as Tom beckoned Fudge toward the passage that led from the bar. 
“‘Bye, Neville!” called Stan. 
Fudge marched Harry along the narrow passage after Tom's lantern, and then into a small parlor. Tom clicked his fingers, a fire burst into life in the grate, and he bowed himself out of the room. 
“Sit down, Harry,” said Fudge, indicating a chair by the fire. 
Harry sat down, feeling goose bumps rising up his arms despite the glow of the fire. Fudge took off his pinstriped cloak and tossed it aside, then hitched up the trousers of his bottle-green suit and sat down opposite Harry. 
“I am Cornelius Fudge, Harry. The Minister of Magic.” 
Harry already knew this, of course; he had seen Fudge once before, but as he had been wearing his father's Invisibility Cloak at the time, Fudge wasn't to know that. 
Tom the innkeeper reappeared, wearing an apron over his nightshirt and bearing a tray of tea and crumpets. He placed the tray on a table between Fudge and Harry and left the parlor, closing the door behind him. 
“Well, Harry,” said Fudge, pouring out tea, “you've had us all in a right flap, I don't mind telling you. Running away from your aunt and uncle's house like that! I'd started to think…but you're safe, and that's what matters.” 
Fudge buttered himself a crumpet and pushed the plate toward Harry. 
“Eat, Harry, you look dead on your feet. Now then…You will be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the unfortunate blowing-up of Miss Marjorie Dursley. Two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Department were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. Miss Dursley has been punctured and her memory has been modified. She has no recollection of the incident at all. So that's that, and no harm done.” 
Fudge smiled at Harry over the rim of his teacup, rather like an uncle surveying a favorite nephew. Harry, who couldn't believe his ears, opened his mouth to speak, couldn't think of anything to say, and closed it again. 
“Ah, you're worrying about the reaction of your aunt and uncle?” said Fudge. “Well, I won't deny that they are extremely angry, Harry, but they are prepared to take you back next summer as long as you stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays.” 
Harry unstuck his throat. 
“I always stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays,” he said, “and I don't ever want to go back to Privet Drive.” 
“Now, now, I'm sure you'll feel differently once you've calmed down,” said Fudge in a worried tone. “They are your family, after all, and I'm sure you are fond of each other — er — very deep down.” 
It didn't occur to Harry to put Fudge right. He was still waiting to hear what was going to happen to him now. 
“So all that remains,” said Fudge, now buttering himself a second crumpet, “is to decide where you're going to spend the last two weeks of your vacation. I suggest you take a room here at the Leaky Cauldron and…” 
“Hang on,” blurted Harry. “What about my punishment?” 
Fudge blinked. “Punishment?” 
“I broke the law!” Harry said. “The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry!” 
“Oh, my dear boy, we're not going to punish you for a little thing like that!” cried Fudge, waving his crumpet impatiently. “It was an accident! We don't send people to Azkaban just for blowing up their aunts!” 
But this didn't tally at all with Harry's past dealings with the Ministry of Magic. 
“Last year, I got an official warning just because a house-elf smashed a pudding in my uncle's house!” he told Fudge, frowning. “The Ministry of Magic said I'd be expelled from Hogwarts if there was any more magic there!” 
Unless Harry's eyes were deceiving him, Fudge was suddenly looking awkward. 
“Circumstances change, Harry…We have to take into account…in the present climate…Surely you don't want to be expelled?” 
“Of course I don't,” said Harry. 
“Well then, what's all the fuss about?” laughed Fudge. “Now, have a crumpet, Harry, while I go and see if Tom's got a room for you.” 
Fudge strode out of the parlor and Harry stared after him. There was something extremely odd going on. Why had Fudge been waiting for him at the Leaky Cauldron, if not to punish him for what he'd done? And now Harry came to think of it, surely it wasn't usual for the Minister of Magic himself to get involved in matters of underage magic? 
Fudge came back, accompanied by Tom the innkeeper. 
“Room eleven's free, Harry,” said Fudge. “I think you'll be very comfortable. just one thing, and I'm sure you'll understand…I don't want you wandering off into Muggle London, all right? Keep to Diagon Alley. And you're to be back here before dark each night. Sure you'll understand. Tom will be keeping an eye on you for me.” 
“Okay,” said Harry slowly, “but why?” 
“Don't want to lose you again, do we?” said Fudge with a hearty laugh. “No, no…best we know where you are…I mean…” 
Fudge cleared his throat loudly and picked up his pinstriped cloak. 
“Well, I'll be off, plenty to do, you know…” 
“Have you had any luck with Black yet?” Harry asked. 
Fudge's finger slipped on the silver fastenings of his cloak. 
“What's that? Oh, you've heard - well, no, not yet, but it's only a matter of time. The Azkaban guards have never yet failed…and they are angrier than I've ever seen them.” 
Fudge shuddered slightly. 
“So, I'll say good-bye.” 
He held out his hand and Harry, shaking it, had a sudden idea. 
“Er — Minister? Can I ask you something?” 
“Certainly,” said Fudge with a smile. 
“Well, third years at Hogwarts are allowed to visit Hogsmeade, but my aunt and uncle didn't sign the permission form. D'you think you could —?” 
Fudge was looking uncomfortable. 
“Ah,” he said. “No, no, I'm very sorry, Harry, but as I'm not your parent or guardian —” 
“But you're the Minister of Magic,” said Harry eagerly. “If you gave me permission…” 
“No, I'm sorry, Harry, but rules are rules,” said Fudge flatly. 
“Perhaps you'll be able to visit Hogsmeade next year. In fact, I think it's best if you don't…yes…well, I'll be off. Enjoy your stay, Harry.” 
And with a last smile and shake of Harry's hand, Fudge left the room. Tom now moved forward, beaming at Harry. 
“If you'll follow me, Mr. Potter,” he said, “I've already taken your things up…” 
Harry followed Tom up a handsome wooden staircase to a door with a brass number eleven on it, which Tom unlocked and opened for him. 
Inside was a very comfortable-looking bed, some highly polished oak furniture, a cheerfully crackling fire and, perched on top of the wardrobe — 
“Hedwig!” Harry gasped. 
The snowy owl clicked her beak and fluttered down onto Harry's arm. 
“Very smart owl you've got there,” chuckled Tom. “Arrived about five minutes after you did. If there's anything you need, Mr. Potter, don't hesitate to ask.” 
He gave another bow and left. 
Harry sat on his bed for a long time, absentmindedly stroking Hedwig. The sky outside the window was changing rapidly from deep, velvety blue to cold, steely gray and then, slowly, to pink shot with gold. Harry could hardly believe that he'd left Privet Drive only a few hours ago, that he wasn't expelled, and that he was now facing two completely Dursley-free weeks. 
“It's been a very weird night, Hedwig,” he yawned. 
And without even removing his glasses, he slumped back onto his pillows and fell asleep. 
哈利在进入马克来里新月街时已经穿过几条街了。他放下皮箱重重地喘着气。 
　　他直直的坐着，心头的火还在不停地汹涌着。他听到自己狂热的心在跳动着。 
　　坐在那黑暗的街上大概十分钟，他被一种新的感觉所控制。他从来没有试过陷入这样坏的窘境，他束手无策，一个人在“马格人”的世界，完全没有地方可以去，最糟糕的是，他又施用了魔法，这意味着他可能被霍格瓦彻赶出校。他破了未成年巫师的规则，他还奇怪魔法部长代表怎么还没有在他坐的地方猝然下降。 
　　哈利打了个冷颤，他向马克来里新月街前后看看。将会发生什么事呢？他会被捕吗，还是会成为魔法界的歹徒呢？他想起罗恩和荷米恩，他的心更沉了，哈利很肯定，无论他成了罪犯或其它，罗恩和荷米恩都会帮他的，但是他们都在外国，海维也不在身边，他没办法联系上他们。 
　　他没有什么非魔法界用的钱了，在皮箱底的钱包里他有一把魔法金钥匙。但他父母留给他的遗产都存放在伦敦的格林高斯银行的金库中，除非…… 
　　他看看他的魔杖，他仍紧紧握在手中。如果他被逐出校，（他的心痛苦地急速跳动。）他应该怎么办呢？如果他向皮箱施法，让它变得像毛一样轻，系在扫帚上，再用大衣掩盖自己飞去伦敦会怎样呢？ 
　　他就可以从金库中提到自己的钱，然后就开始流浪的生活。这可是一个可怕的前景，但是他总不能老坐在这里，要是被警察审问他怎么在深夜出走，还带着魔咒书和扫帚。 
　　哈利又打开皮箱，他把里面的东西推到一边，寻找那隐形大衣——但在找到之前，他突然站起来，向他周围又看了看。 
　　他的颈后面有痒痒的感觉，哈利以为有人盯着他，但这街道毫无人影，连那些大房子旁的街灯都没有亮。 
　　他弯下腰看他的皮箱，但立刻他又站起来，手里还紧握着他的魔杖，他是感觉到而并非听到有人或者有些东西站在他后面的车房和栏杆之间的小道。哈利斜视着那小胡同，如果它会动的话，他会知道那是一只猫或其它的。 
　　“噢。”哈利喃喃嘀咕，魔杖一端的灯亮了，他几乎有点昏。他把魔杖举起来，那用卵石筑成的墙突然亮起来了。车房的门开了，哈利看到两扇门之间，清晰地出现了一个又大又阔，发亮的轮廓。 
　　哈利向后退，他的脚踢在皮箱上，摔倒了，他摔倒时他的魔杖从手中飞出去，他在水槽沟里慢慢站起来。 
　　震耳欲聋的一个乐队响起来了，哈利用手捂着眼睛去挡住那刺眼的强光。 
　　他喊了一声，及时滚回到人行道上，一会儿后，一辆很巨大的车还有强光的车灯随着一声尖叫后停下来了。恰恰停在哈利躺着的地方。哈利抬起头才看见原来是一辆有三层甲板的，紫色的巴土，在淡淡的空气中呈现出来。挡风玻璃用金色的字写着“爵士巴士”。 
　　好一会儿，哈利在想是否自己摔傻了。车长穿着紫色的工作服从车上跃下来，在空中对他说话。 
　　“欢迎你来坐爵士巴士，这是紧急巴士，专门乘载手足无策的巫婆或巫师的。 
　　请伸出你的魔杖，走上车，我们可以载你去任何地方，我的名字是西单。什拜克，今天晚上我是你的车长。“ 
　　车长突然停下来。这时哈利仍坐在地上，然后拿起他的魔杖重新站起来，走上前，他看到西单。什拜克只比他大几岁，最多是十八九岁，大眼睛向前突出，脸上有几颗青春痘。 
　　“你在这里干什么？”西单问，抛开他那职业性态度。 
　　“摔倒了。”哈利说。 
　　“呵，怎么摔倒了？”西单吃吃地笑。 
　　“我不是故意的。”哈利有点烦了。他膝盖上的牛仔裤被摔破了，摔倒时手也弄伤了，在流血，他迅速转过身去看胡同里的车房和栏杆，爵士巴土的车头灯光芒四射。 
　　“你在看啥呀？”西单问。 
　　“那里有一个大大的黑物体。”哈利不肯定地指向那空隙里，“像一只狗，但是很大。” 
　　他看西单的周围，口微微张开，觉得有点不自然，哈利看到西单的视线移到他额上的疤痕。 
　　“你额上的疤痕是什么回事？”西单唐突地问。 
　　“没什么。”哈利立即说，把头发向疤痕压了压。如果魔法部长正在找他，他不想这么容易就被找到。 
　　“你叫什么名字？”西单坚持着。 
　　“我叫尼维尔。”哈利说，把脑袋中闪过的名字说出来。一这巴士，“他继续说，想转移西单的注意力，”你刚才说他可以开到任何地方？“ 
　　“是的。”西单骄傲地说，“只要在陆地去哪都行，但在水中就不能穿行了，啊？”他又怀疑地看着哈利说，“你不大相信？伸出你的魔杖来试一下。” 
　　“好。”哈利立即说，“听着，去伦敦要多少钱？” 
　　“十一个镰刀币。”西单说，“但十三个的话你可以吃巧克力，十五个的话你可以挑任何颜色的水瓶和牙刷。” 
　　哈利又在他的皮箱里搜寻了一会儿，拿出钱包掏出一些银币给西单，然后提起皮箱，头顶部放着海维的笼子平衡着走上巴士。 
　　巴土里面没有座位，但有半打铜床架放在车厢窗帘边。每个床架旁有蜡烛燃烧着，照亮了木窗格的墙，一个带着睡帽的小巫师坐在巴士后面咕噜说：“好了，谢谢，我在检金块。”然后翻过身去睡。 
　　“给你这个。”西单细声说，把哈利的皮箱推到司机的床下，司机正坐在钢轮前的扶手椅子上，“这是我们的司机，伊赖。拜朗，这位是尼维尔。” 
　　伊赖。拜朗是一位巫师前辈，架着很厚的眼镜，他向哈利点点头。 
　　哈利又用手压压额前的头发，然后在他的床上坐下来。 
　　“开车吧，伊赖。”西单说着在伊赖的扶手椅子旁坐下来。 
　　那震耳欲聋的乐队又响起来，跟着哈利已经平躺在自己的床上。 
　　由于爵士巴士在前进，他一直地向床后滑，他坐起来，盯着漆黑的外面，看到他们正向一条完全不同的街道开去。 
　　西单看着哈利惊诧的脸孔有点高兴。 
　　“这就是你挥手叫我们停的地方了。”他说，“我们现在在哪，伊赖？在威尔士吗？” 
　　“哦。”伊赖说。 
　　“怎么那些没有魔法的人注意不到巴土呢？”哈利问。 
　　“他们？”西单轻蔑地说，“不能正常地听，不能正常地看，更别说注意到这巴土了。他们不能的。” 
　　“西单，你最好去叫玛什女士。”伊赖说，“我们很快就到阿伯格里云了。” 
　　西单经过哈利的床，把那个狭长木皮箱藏起来。哈利仍往窗外看，觉得更加紧张了。伊赖好像在炫耀他的车技，爵士巴士在人行道上行驶，但没有撞到任何东西上。一排排的路灯，邮筒和垃圾箱都在巴士靠近的时候自动让开，当车走过后又回到原来的位置。 
　　西单下楼，一个淡青色披着旅游大衣的巫婆跟着他。 
　　“玛什女士，你慢走。”西单高兴地说，这时伊赖踩到车煞车上。 
　　车上的床都向前滑了一尺左右，玛什女士用手夹住围巾，蹒跚下楼，西单帮她拿着包裹送她下车，外面又有一支很吵的乐队，他们在狭窄的小路上大声地演奏着，两旁的树都让出路来。 
　　即使那乐队不在吵，在车时速超过一百英里地飞速驾驶下，他的胃却开始翻滚，他又开始想将会发生什么事在他身上，在想杜斯利一家能否把马各姨妈从天花板上拉下来。 
　　西单打开《先知日报》的复制版，然后卷起舌头读报。在头版中，一个沮丧的男人，长而乱的头发，在向哈利慢慢地眨眼，他看起来很熟。 
　　“那男人！”哈利说，这时候忘了他所烦的事，“他也在马格人的新闻中。” 
　　西单转向报纸的头版咯咯地笑起来。 
　　西单。什拜克，他点点头，“这当然是马格的新闻，尼维尔，你从哪里来的？” 
　　他傲慢地看着哈利的脸又笑了笑，翻过头版把报纸递给哈利。 
　　“你应该多读报纸的，尼维尔。” 
　　哈利把报纸移近蜡烛看。 
　　西里斯。巴拉克可能是阿兹克班监狱中最罪恶的罪犯，他仍在逃亡之中，魔法部长今天确认说。 
　　“我们会尽全力去捉拿巴拉克，”魔法部长法治今天早上时说：“并且我们希望魔法界的人保持冷静。” 
　　法治因为告诉“马格人”的总理这危机而被瓦路克斯的国际联邦的成员批评。 
　　“哦，说真的，我不得不这样做，你们也许不知道。”法治激怒地说，“巴拉克是疯子，谁碰上他都会有危险，不管是巫师还是马格人，总理已经向我保证不会把巴拉克的真正身份泄露给任何人知道。我们面对事实——我们都相信他对吗？” 
　　当人们知道巴拉克持有手枪的时候，那是人们用来杀人用的金属魔杖，魔法界人们的生命如十二年前一样危险，那时候巴拉克只用一道咒语就杀了十三个人了。 
　　哈利看着西里斯。巴拉克无神的眼睛，好像只有沮丧的脸才是活着的一样。哈利从没遇见过吸血鬼。但他在《黑巫术防御》之类的书上见过照片。巴拉克，他像白蜡般的白皮肤看上去就像其中一个。 
　　“很可怕，是吗？”西单向，他一直看着哈利读。 
　　“他杀了十三个人？”哈利把报纸还给西单，时间：“用哪一道咒语？” 
　　“是呀，”西单说，“在大白天，大家都看到了，很严重的事，对吗？ 
　　伊赖？“ 
　　“哦，是呀！”伊赖答道。 
　　西单旋转着手扶椅子，把手放在背后，更好奇地看着哈利。 
　　“巴拉克是‘那个人’的热烈支持者。”他说。 
　　“什么，福尔得摩特？”哈利不加思索地说。 
　　西单脸上的青春痘发白了。伊赖使劲推着钢方向盘，一间农房子跳到一旁避开这巴土。 
　　“你看那树，”西单又嚷，“你刚才说谁的名？” 
　　“对不起，”哈利匆忙说，“对不起，我忘了——” 
　　“忘了，”西单狠狠地说，“我的耳朵反应也挺快的……” 
　　“你是说巴拉克是‘那个人’的支持者？”哈利抱歉地暗示着。 
　　“是呀，”西单说，仍然擦着他的胸，“是呀，对了。大概是‘那个人’他们说的，怎样也好，哈利·波特挫败了‘那个人’——”哈利紧张地又用手向额上的头发压了压，“‘那个人’的同盟在被缉拿，是吗？ 
　　他们都知道玩完了。‘那个人’完蛋时，他们都安静下来了。可西里斯。巴拉克却不是那样，我听说，他认为自己是‘那个人’的第二任总司令，并要接管它。 
　　“”不论如何，他们认为巴拉克在马格拥挤的街上拿出他的魔杖，把街炸开，一个巫师死了，几十个普通人也死掉了，很恐怖，你知道巴拉克做了些什么了吧？“ 
　　西单继续像唱戏一般低声说。 
　　“什么？”哈利说。 
　　“笑，”西单说，“当魔法部的强健部队赶到那儿时，他在笑，很大声地发疯般笑，伊赖，他真疯了，是吗？” 
　　“如果不是去了阿兹克班，他现在可能就在这儿了，”伊赖低声说，“如果我像他那样做，我也把自己炸死了，他是该死的……做那么多坏事…” 
　　“他们费很大劲才把他们埋了，伊赖，对吗？”西单说，“欧勒街爆炸，街上的人都死了，伊赖他们说是什么事发生了？” 
　　“煤气爆炸。”伊赖抱怨说。 
　　“现在都知道了。”西单看着报纸上巴拉克的脸又说，“阿兹克班一直没有什么暴乱的，是吗？真吓人呀，我说，我并不是说这是阿兹克班的过失。” 
　　伊赖颤动了一下，“西单，说其他的吧，那儿有个小伙子。那些阿兹克班的卫士真的该头痛。” 
　　西单不情愿地把报纸放在一边，哈利靠在爵士巴士的窗台上，觉得更加糟糕，他不禁在想西单可能有好几个晚上把这些事情告诉乘客们。 
　　“有听过哈利·波特吗？我们也乘载过他，他还想要来驾驶呢——” 
　　哈利像西里斯。巴拉克一样犯规了。让玛各姨妈膨胀会否导致被关到阿兹克班里呢？哈利不大知道巫师的监狱，虽然他也听过人们用同样惊恐的语调谈及过。霍格瓦彻学校的门卫哈格力去年在那儿呆了两个月。哈利不会忘了当哈格力告诉他，他将要去那里时的恐怖面容。哈利是他认识的人中最勇敢的。 
　　那爵士巴士在黑夜中飞奔着，树林、船桩、电话亭和树都为此散开。哈利不安地躺在羽毛铺成的床上。过了一会儿，西单给了哈利一些巧克力。但是车剧烈地摇晃，他把热巧克力倒在哈利的碗上，车正从昂里斯向艾波顿飞驰，一个接一个，巫师和巫婆穿着睡衣和拖鞋从上一层下来，难备离开巴土。他们看上去都很高兴离开。 
　　哈利是最后一个离开。 
　　“好了，尼维尔。”西单拍拍手说：“去伦敦的哪儿？” 
　　“去戴阿宫道。”哈利说。 
　　“好了，”西单说，“抓紧，出发……” 
　　“砰——” 
　　他们在卡荣十字路飞速行驶，哈利坐起来看着一幢幢的大厦和法院挤到一边让爵士巴士行驶，天空开始发亮了。他再坐了几个小时，车门打开他就可以到阿伯格里云了。然后他们又出发，他就不知道了。 
　　伊赖在一间又小又蹩脚的酒吧巴前猛地停下来。到了阿伯格里云了，那后面就是到戴阿宫道的魔门了。 
　　“谢谢。”哈利对伊赖说。 
　　他跳到台阶上，帮助西单放低皮箱和海维的笼子到人行道上。 
　　“好了，”哈利说：“那就再见了。” 
　　但是西单没有注意他。仍然站在上巴土的门口，他斜着眼睛看着他进入阿格伯里云的阴暗的入口。 
　　“哈利，给你。”一个声音说。 
　　哈利还没有转过头来，他感到有一只手按住他的肩膀，同时，西单大声喊：“伊赖，过来，过来这儿。” 
　　哈利抬头看是谁的手，他感觉到好像有一满桶的冰淇淋流入他的胃里。——他已经撞到法治身上，他就是魔法部的部长。 
　　西单跳到人行道上站在他们旁边。 
　　“你刚才怎样叫尼维尔的，部长先生？”他兴奋地说。 
　　法治是一个肥胖而身材矮小的人，穿着细条纹的大衣，显得又冷淡又疲惫。 
　　“尼维尔？”他重复说，皱起眉头来，“他是哈利·波特。” 
　　“我知道了，”西单高兴地大喊，“伊赖，伊赖，猜猜尼维尔是谁，他是哈利。 
　　波特。我看到他的疤痕了。“ 
　　“好了！”法治暴躁地说，“很高兴爵士巴土把哈利载到这儿，我现在要进去。” 
　　法治的手在哈利的肩上加压，哈利发现酒吧里的人都盯着他，一个驼背的人提着灯笼从栏杆后面的门走进来。他是店主。 
　　“部长，你把他带来了！”汤姆说，“你要点什么吗？啤酒？白兰地？” 
　　“那就要一壶茶吧。”法治说，他仍然按着哈利。 
　　他们后面传来一阵嘈杂的声音。西单和伊赖又出现了。他们拿着哈利的皮箱和海维的笼子，他们兴奋地向四周看。 
　　“喂，尼维尔，你来了都不告诉我们你是谁？”西单向哈利笑笑，这时伊赖的褐色的脸满有兴趣地从西单肩上看过去。 
　　“汤姆，带我去私人的客厅。”法治尖锐地说。 
　　“再见。”哈利难过地对西单和伊赖说。这时汤姆招呼法治走到那栏杆前面的走廊。 
　　“尼维尔，再见。”西单说。 
　　法治和哈利跟着汤姆的灯笼在狭窄的走廊上走，然后进入一个客厅。汤姆的手指卡塔地响了一下，壁炉上的火烧起来了，他鞠了一个躬后离开了客房。 
　　“哈利坐下吧。”法治指着一张凳子说。 
　　哈利坐下来，虽然有火，他的手臂还是在起鸡皮疙瘩。法治脱下他那细条纹的大衣抛到一旁，然后拉拉那绿色的套衣，在哈利的对面坐下来。 
　　“哈利，我是魔法界的部长法治。” 
　　哈利当然一早就知道了。他以前曾见过法治一次，但因为他那时正穿着他爸爸的隐形大衣，法治并不知道。 
　　店主又出现了，睡衣前围着一条围裙，托着放菜和煎饼的托盘。 
　　他把东西放在法治和哈利之间的桌子上，然后离开客厅，关上门。 
　　“好了，哈利，”法治边倒茶边说，“你打乱了我们的计划了，我并不介意告诉你，你竟然那样从你姨妈、姨丈家跑出来！我开始想…… 
　　但为了你自己，那可不是小事。“法治把黄油涂在自己的煎饼上，然后把托盘推向哈利。 
　　“哈利，吃吧，你看上去很累了。没事了，杜斯利小姐的记忆被修改了，她不能再想起那次事件了。因而，没有什么问题了。” 
　　法治对着茶杯边缘向哈利笑了笑，哈利几乎不能相信他的耳朵，他张开口要说些什么，便又想不起来。 
　　“哦，你在担心你姨丈和姨妈的反应？”法治说，“嗯，我不否认他们的确很生气，哈刮，但他们准备明年暑假接你回来，只要你留在霍格瓦彻过圣诞和复活节就行了。” 
　　哈利的喉咙可以说话了。 
　　“我总想留在霍格瓦彻过圣诞节和复活节的。”哈利说，“我也不想回到普里怀特街了。” 
　　“好了，现在我肯定你在冷静下来后感觉又不同了。”法治担心地说。“他们毕竟是你的家人呀，我肯定从此以后你会喜欢他们的。” 
　　哈利没有附和法治。他仍在等着看会有什么事发生在他身上。 
　　“所以现在要做的，”法治一边在第二块煎饼涂黄油一边说，“就是决定在哪儿渡过你暑假的最后两个星期，我建议你在这里的房间住下来，然后……” 
　　“等着，”哈利打断问，“我将会怎样受罚？” 
　　法治眨眨眼。 
　　“受罚？” 
　　“我犯现了，”哈利说，“犯那末成年巫师规则。” 
　　“哦，我的孩子，我们不准备为这样的小事惩罚你。”法治不耐烦地挥着煎饼喊道，“那是偶然的，我们不会把那些只是因为跟他们姨妈闹翻的人关在阿兹克班的。” 
　　“去年因为我把一块布丁扔到我姨丈的房子里就被正式警告片哈利皱着眉头说，” 
　　魔法部说如果我再在那儿施法的话，他们就开除我。“法治突然显得不知所措，除非哈利的眼睛骗了他自己。 
　　“哈利，情况不一样了……我们要考虑……现在的环境，当然你也不想自已被开除吧？” 
　　“当然不想了。”哈利说。 
　　“那好，为何还要大惊小怪的呢？”法治轻松地笑着说，“现在来吃点煎饼，我去找汤姆看看是否可以给你留一间房。” 
　　法治迈出客厅，哈利盯着他出去，事情好像有点奇怪。为什么法治在例格歌注等着他呢？如果不是要惩罚他的话？哈利开始想了，魔法界的部长绝对不会轻易为一个未成年的小魔法师烦恼吧？ 
　　法治回来了，店主汤姆也随着来了。 
　　“第八号房是空着的，哈利。”法治说，“我想你会觉得舒服的，还有一件事，我肯定你会理解的，我不想你在马格世界里游荡，懂吗？ 
　　留在戴阿官道里面，每天天黑之前回来，你会了解的吧，汤姆会替我看着你的。 
　　“”好的。“哈利慢慢说，”但为什么——“ 
　　“我们不想失去你了。”法治开心地笑笑，“不，最好让我们知道你在哪…… 
　　我的意思是……“ 
　　法治大声地清了一下喉咙，拿起细条纹的大衣。 
　　“好了，我要走了，有很多事干，你该知道的。” 
　　“你在巴拉克案件中碰到运气了吗？”哈利问。 
　　法治的手指在大衣的银色拉链中滑动着。 
　　“那是什么？哦，你看了——好，还没有，这只不过是时间问题而已，他们从没这么生气过。” 
　　法治轻轻战栗着。 
　　“好了，我要说再见了。” 
　　他伸出手，哈利伸手去握，这时他想到一个主意。 
　　“嗯，部长，我可以问你一个问题吗？” 
　　“当然可以。”法治笑笑说。 
　　“在霍格瓦彻三年级可以去霍格马得，但我姨丈姨妈没有在同意书上签名，你可以签吗？” 
　　法治看上去不大自然。 
　　“哦。”他说：“不，不。很抱歉，哈利。因为我不是你的父母或监护人。” 
　　“但是，你是魔法部长。”哈利热切地说，“如果你同意的话——” 
　　“不，哈利，对不起，规矩是规矩。”法治淡淡地说，“也许你明年可以去霍格马得的。实际上，我想这最好如果你不……是的……嗯，我要走了。在这玩得开心点，哈利。” 
　　最后和哈利握握手，笑了笑，法治离开房间了。汤姆向前笑着靠近哈利。 
　　“波特先生，请你跟我来，”他说，“我已经把房间安置好了。” 
　　哈利跟着汤姆走上一条结实的大楼梯，来到镶着三五号门牌的门前，汤姆为哈利打开它。 
　　里面有很舒服的床和一些擦得发亮的橡木家具，烧得很旺的火炉，衣柜上面是——“海维。”哈利喘着气。 
　　那雪白的猫头鹰飞到哈利手臂上，拍动着翅膀。 
　　“真是聪明的猫头鹰。”汤姆吃吃地笑，“你到达五分钟后它就到了。如果你需要些什么，波特先生，请不要客气。” 
　　他向哈利鞠了一躬然后离开了。 
　　哈利在床上坐了很久，心不在焉地轻抚着海维，窗外的天空很快地从柔和、深蓝变成无情的灰色，然后，慢慢地变成带有金色的粉红。 
　　哈利几乎不能相信他在几个小时之前离开了普里怀特街，他不会被开除，而且他可以在以后的日子不受杜斯利的管制了。 
　　“这可是不可思议的一晚，海维。”他打呵欠说。 
　　然后还没有把眼镜摘下来，他已经猛地向枕头一倒，睡着了。 
Chapter 4 The Leaky Cauldron
It took Harry several days to get used to his strange new freedom. Never before had he been able to get up whenever he wanted or eat whatever he fancied. He could even go wherever he pleased, as long as it was in Diagon Alley, and as this long cobbled street was packed with the most fascinating wizarding shops in the world, Harry felt no desire to break his word to Fudge and stray back into the Muggle world. 
Harry ate breakfast each morning in the Leaky Cauldron, where he liked watching the other guests: funny little witches from the country, up for a day's shopping; venerable-looking wizards arguing over the latest article in Transfiguration Today; wild-looking warlocks; raucous dwarfs; and once, what looked suspiciously like a hag, who ordered a plate of raw liver from behind a thick woolen balaclava. 
After breakfast Harry would go out into the backyard, take out his wand, tap the third brick from the left above the trash bin, and stand back as the archway into Diagon Alley opened in the wall. 
Harry spent the long sunny days exploring the shops and eating under the brightly colored umbrellas outside cafes, where his fellow diners were showing one another their purchases (“It's a lunascope, old boy — no more messing around with moon charts, see?”) or else discussing the case of Sirius Black (“Personally, I won't let any of the children out alone until he's back in Azkaban”). Harry didn't have to do his homework under the blankets by flashlight anymore; now he could sit in the bright sunshine outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, finishing all his essays with occasional help from Florean Fortescue himself, who, apart from knowing a great deal about medieval witch burnings, gave Harry free sundaes every half an hour. 
Once Harry had refilled his money bag with gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts from his vault at Gringotts, he had to exercise a lot of self-control not to spend the whole lot at once. He had to keep reminding himself that he had five years to go at Hogwarts, and how it would feel to ask the Dursleys for money for spellbooks, to stop himself from buying a handsome set of solid gold Gobstones (a wizarding game rather like marbles, in which the stones squirt a nasty-smelling liquid into the other player's face when they lose a point). He was sorely tempted, too, by the perfect, moving model of the galaxy in a large glass ball, which would have meant he never had to take another Astronomy lesson. But the thing that tested Harry's resolution most appeared in his favorite shop, Quality Quidditch Supplies, a week after he'd arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. 
Curious to know what the crowd in the shop was staring at, Harry edged his way inside and squeezed in among the excited witches and wizards until he glimpsed a newly erected podium, on which was mounted the most magnificent broom he had ever seen in his life. 
“Just come out — prototype —” a square-jawed wizard was telling his companion. 
“It's the fastest broom in the world, isn't it, Dad?” squeaked a boy younger than Harry, who was swinging off his father's arm. 
“Irish International Side's just put in an order for seven of these beauties!” the proprietor of the shop told the crowd. “And they're favorites for the World Cup!” 
A large witch in front of Harry moved, and he was able to read the sign next to the broom: 
** THE FIREBOLT **THIS STATE-OF-THE-ART RACING BROOM SPORTS A STREAM-LINED, SUPERFINE HANDLE OF ASH, TREATED WITH A DIAMOND-HARD POLISH AND HAND-NUMBERED WITH ITS OWN REGISTRATION NUMBER. EACH INDIVIDUALLY SELECTED BIRCH TWIG IN THE BROOMTAIL HAS BEEN HONED TO AERODYNAMIC PERFECTION, GIVING THE FIREBOLT UNSURPASSABLE BALANCE AND PINPOINT PRECISION. THE FIREBOLT HAS AN ACCELERATION OF 150 MILES AN HOUR IN TEN SECONDS AND INCORPORATES AN UNBREAKABLE BRAKING CHARM. PRICE ON REQUEST. Price on request…Harry didn't like to think how much gold the Firebolt would cost. He had never wanted anything as much in his whole life — but he had never lost a Quidditch match on his Nimbus Two Thousand, and what was the point in emptying his Gringotts vault for the Firebolt, when he had a very good broom already? Harry didn't ask for the price, but he returned, almost every day after that, just to look at the Firebolt. 
There were, however, things that Harry needed to buy. He went to the Apothecary to replenish his store of potions ingredients, and as his school robes were now several inches too short in the arm and leg, he visited Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions and bought new ones. Most important of all, he had to buy his new schoolbooks, which would include those for his two new subjects, Care of Magical Creatures and Divination. 
Harry got a surprise as he looked in at the bookshop window. Instead of the usual display of gold-embossed spellbooks the size of paving slabs, there was a large iron cage behind the glass that held about a hundred copies of The Monster Book of Monsters. Torn pages were flying everywhere as the books grappled with each other, locked together in furious wrestling matches and snapping aggressively. 
Harry pulled his booklist out of his pocket and consulted it for the first time. The Monster Book of Monsters was listed as the required book for Care of Magical Creatures. Now Harry understood why Hagrid had said it would come in useful. He felt relieved; he had been wondering whether Hagrid wanted help with some terrifying new pet. 
As Harry entered Flourish and Blotts, the manager came hurrying toward him. 
“Hogwarts?” he said abruptly. “Come to get your new books?” 
“Yes,” said Harry, “I need —” 
“Get out of the way,” said the manager impatiently, brushing Harry aside. He drew on a pair of very thick gloves, picked up a large, knobbly walking stick, and proceeded toward the door of the Monster Books’ cage. 
“Hang on,” said Harry quickly, “I've already got one of those.” 
“Have you?” A look of enormous relief spread over the manager's face. “Thank heavens for that. I've been bitten five times already this morning —” 
A loud ripping noise rent the air; two of the Monster Books had seized a third and were pulling it apart. 
“Stop it! Stop it!” cried the manager, poking the walking stick through the bars and knocking the books apart. “I'm never stocking them again, never! It's been bedlam! I thought we'd seen the worst when we bought two hundred copies of the Invisible Book of Invisibility — cost a fortune, and we never found them…Well…is there anything else I can help you with?” 
“Yes,” said Harry, looking down his booklist, “I need Unfogging the Future by Cassandra Vablatsky.” 
“Ah, starting Divination, are you?” said the manager, stripping off his gloves and leading Harry into the back of the shop, where there was a corner devoted to fortune-telling. A small table was stacked with volumes such as Predicting the Unpredictable: Insulate Yourself Against Shocks and Broken Balls: When Fortunes Turn Foul. 
“Here you are,” said the manager, who had climbed a set of steps to take down a thick, black-bound book. “Unfogging the Future. Very good guide to all your basic fortune-telling methods — palmistry, crystal balls, bird entrails.” 
But Harry wasn't listening. His eyes had fallen on another book, which was among a display on a small table: Death Omens — What to Do When You Know the Worst Is Coming. 
“Oh, I wouldn't read that if I were you,” said the manager lightly, looking to see what Harry was staring at. “You'll start seeing death omens everywhere. It's enough to frighten anyone to death.” 
But Harry continued to stare at the front cover of the book; it showed a black dog large as a bear, with gleaming eyes. It looked oddly familiar… 
The manager pressed Unfogging the Future into Harry's hands. 
“Anything else?” he said. 
“Yes,” said Harry, tearing his eyes away from the dog's and dazedly consulting his booklist. “Er — I need Intermediate Transfiguration and The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three.” 
Harry emerged from Flourish and Blotts ten minutes later with his new books under his arms and made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron, hardly noticing where he was going and bumping into several people. 
He tramped up the stairs to his room, went inside, and tipped his books onto his bed. Somebody had been in to tidy; the windows were open and sun was pouring inside. Harry could hear the buses rolling by in the unseen Muggle street behind him and the sound of the invisible crowd below in Diagon Alley. He caught sight of himself in the mirror over the basin. 
“It can't have been a death omen,” he told his reflection defiantly. “I was panicking when I saw that thing in Magnolia Crescent…It was probably just a stray dog….” 
He raised his hand automatically and tried to make his hair lie flat 
“You're fighting a losing battle there, dear,” said his mirror in a wheezy voice. 
As the days slipped by, Harry started looking wherever he went for a sign of Ron or Hermione. Plenty of Hogwarts students were arriving in Diagon Alley now, with the start of term so near. Harry met Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, his fellow Gryffindors, in Quality Quidditch Supplies, where they too were ogling the Firebolt; he also ran into the real Neville Longbottom, a round-faced, forgetful boy, outside Flourish and Blotts. Harry didn't stop to chat; Neville appeared to have mislaid his booklist and was being told off by his very formidable-looking grandmother. Harry hoped she never found out that he'd pretended to be Neville while on the run from the Ministry of Magic. 
Harry woke on the last day of the holidays, thinking that he would at least meet Ron and Hermione tomorrow, on the Hogwarts Express. He got up, dressed, went for a last look at the Firebolt, and was just wondering where he'd have lunch, when someone yelled his name and he turned. 
“Harry! HARRY!” 
They were there, both of them, sitting outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor — Ron looking incredibly freckly, Hermione very brown, both waving frantically at him. 
“Finally!” said Ron, grinning at Harry as he sat down. “We went to the Leaky Cauldron, but they said you'd left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin's, and —” 
“I got all my school stuff last week,” Harry explained. “And how come you knew I'm staying at the Leaky Cauldron?” 
“Dad,” said Ron simply. 
Mr. Weasley, who worked at the Ministry of Magic, would of course have heard the whole story of what had happened to Aunt Marge. 
“Did you really blow up your aunt, Harry?” said Hermione in a very serious voice. 
“I didn't mean to,” said Harry, while Ron roared with laughter. “I just — lost control.” 
“It's not funny, Ron,” said Hermione sharply. “Honestly, I'm amazed Harry wasn't expelled.” 
“So am I,” admitted Harry. “Forget expelled, I thought I was going to be arrested.” He looked at Ron. “Your dad doesn't know why Fudge let me off, does he?” 
“Probably ‘cause it's you, isn't it?” shrugged Ron, still chuckling. “Famous Harry Potter and all that. I'd hate to see what the Ministry'd do to me if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they'd have to dig me up first, because Mum would've killed me. Anyway, you can ask Dad yourself this evening. We're staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too! So you can come to King's Cross with us tomorrow! Hermione's there as well!” 
Hermione nodded, beaming. “Mum and Dad dropped me off this morning with all my Hogwarts things.” 
“Excellent!” said Harry happily. “So, have you got all your new books and stuff?” 
“Look at this,” said Ron, pulling a long thin box out of a bag and opening it. “Brand-new wand. Fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn tail-hair. And we've got all our books —” He pointed at a large bag under his chair. “What about those Monster Books, eh? The assistant nearly cried when we said we wanted two.” 
“What's all that, Hermione?” Harry asked, pointing at not one but three bulging bags in the chair next to her. 
“Well, I'm taking more new subjects than you, aren't I,” said Hermione. “Those are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, the Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies —” 
“What are you doing Muggle Studies for?” said Ron, rolling his eyes at Harry. “You're Muggle-born! Your mum and dad are Muggles! You already know all about Muggles!” 
“But it'll be fascinating to study them from the wizarding point of view,” said Hermione earnestly. 
“Are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year, Hermione?” asked Harry, while Ron sniggered. Hermione ignored them. 
“I've still got ten Galleons,” she said, checking her purse. “It's my birthday in September, and Mum and Dad gave me some money to get myself an early birthday present.” 
“How about a nice book? said Ron innocently. 
“No, I don't think so,” said Hermione composedly. “I really want an owl. I mean, Harry's got Hedwig and you've got Errol —” 
“I haven't,” said Ron. “Errol's a family owl. All I've got is Scabbers.” He pulled his pet rat out of his pocket. “And I want to get him checked over,” he added, placing Scabbers on the table in front of them. “I don't think Egypt agreed with him.” 
Scabbers was looking thinner than usual, and there was a definite droop to his whiskers. 
“There's a magical creature shop just over there,” said Harry, who knew Diagon Alley very well by now. “You could see if they've got anything for Scabbers, and Hermione can get her owl.” 
So they paid for their ice cream and crossed the street to the Magical Menagerie. 
There wasn't much room inside. Every inch of wall was hidden by cages. It was smelly and very noisy because the occupants of these cages were all squeaking, squawking, jabbering, or hissing. The witch behind the counter was already advising a wizard on the care of double-ended newts, so Harry, Ron, and Hermione waited, examining the cages. 
A pair of enormous purple toads sat gulping wetly and feasting on dead blowflies. A gigantic tortoise with a jewel-encrusted shell was glittering near the window. Poisonous orange snails were oozing slowly up the side of their glass tank, and a fat white rabbit kept changing into a silk top hat and back again with a loud popping noise. Then there were cats of every color, a noisy cage of ravens, a basket of funny custard-colored furballs that were humming loudly, and on the counter, a vast cage of sleek black rats that were playing some sort of skipping game using their long, bald tails. 
The double-ended newt wizard left, and Ron approached the counter. 
“It's my rat,” he told the witch. “He's been a bit off-color ever since I brought him back from Egypt.” 
“Bang him on the counter,” said the witch, pulling a pair of heavy black spectacles out of her pocket. 
Ron lifted Scabbers out of his inside pocket and placed him next to the cage of his fellow rats, who stopped their skipping tricks and scuffled to the wire for a better took. 
Like nearly everything Ron owned, Scabbers the rat was secondhand (he had once belonged to Ron's brother Percy) and a bit battered. Next to the glossy rats in the cage, he looked especially woebegone. 
“Hm,” said the witch, picking up Scabbers. “How old is this rat?” 
“Dunno,” said Ron. “Quite old. He used to belong to my brother.” 
“What powers does he have?” said the witch, examining Scabbers closely. 
“Er —” The truth was that Scabbers had never shown the faintest trace of interesting powers. The witch's eyes moved from Scabbers's tattered left ear to his front paw, which had a toe missing, and tutted loudly. 
“He's been through the mill, this one,” she said. 
“He was like that when Percy gave him to me,” said Ron defensively. 
“An ordinary common or garden rat like this can't be expected to live longer than three years or so,” said the witch. “Now, if you were looking for something a bit more hard-wearing, you might like one of these —” 
She indicated the black rats, who promptly started skipping again. Ron muttered, “Show-offs.” 
“Well, if you don't want a replacement, you can try this rat tonic,” said the witch, reaching under the counter and bringing out a small red bottle. 
“Okay,” said Ron. “How much — OUCH!” 
Ron buckled as something huge and orange came soaring from the top of the highest cage, landed on his head, and then propelled itself, spitting madly, at Scabbers. 
“NO, CROOKSHANKS, NO!” cried the witch, but Scabbers shot from between her hands like a bar of soap, landed splay-legged on the floor, and then scampered for the door. 
“Scabbers!” Ron shouted, racing out of the shop after him; Harry followed. 
It took them nearly ten minutes to catch Scabbers, who had taken refuge under a wastepaper bin outside Quality Quidditch Supplies. Ron stuffed the trembling rat back into his pocket and straightened up, massaging his head. 
“What was that?” 
“It was either a very big cat or quite a small tiger,” said Harry. 
“Where's Hermione?” 
“Probably getting her owl.” 
They made their way back up the crowded street to the Magical Menagerie. As they reached it, Hermione came out, but she wasn't carrying an owl. Her arms were clamped tightly around the enormous ginger cat. 
“You bought that monster?” said Ron, his mouth hanging open. 
“He's gorgeous, isn't he?” said Hermione, glowing. 
That was a matter of opinion, thought Harry. The cat's ginger fur was thick and fluffy, but it was definitely a bit bowlegged and its face looked grumpy and oddly squashed, as though it had run headlong into a brick wall. Now that Scabbers was out of sight, however, the cat was purring contentedly in Hermione's arms. 
“Hermione, that thing nearly scalped me!” said Ron. 
“He didn't mean to, did you, Crookshanks?” said Hermione. 
“And what about Scabbers?” said Ron, pointing at the lump in his chest pocket. “He needs rest and relaxation! How's he going to get it with that thing around?” 
“That reminds me, you forgot your rat tonic,” said Hermione, slapping the small red bottle into Ron's hand. “And stop worrying, Crookshanks will be sleeping in my dormitory and Scabbers in yours, what's the problem? Poor Crookshanks, that witch said he'd been in there for ages; no one wanted him.” 
“Wonder why,” said Ron sarcastically as they set off toward the Leaky Cauldron. 
They found Mr. Weasley sitting in the bar, reading the Daily Prophet. 
“Harry!” he said, smiling as he looked up. “How are you?” 
“Fine, thanks,” said Harry as he, Ron, and Hermione joined Mr. Weasley with their shopping. 
Mr. Weasley put down his paper, and Harry saw the now familiar picture of Sirius Black staring up at him. 
“They still haven't caught him, then?” he asked. 
“No,” said Mr. Weasley, looking extremely grave. “They've pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him, but no luck so far.” 
“Would we get a reward if we caught him?” asked Ron. “It'd be good to get some more money —” 
“Don't be ridiculous, Ron,” said Mr. Weasley, who on closer inspection looked very strained. “Black's not going to be caught by a thirteen-year-old wizard. It's the Azkaban guards who'll get him back, You mark my words.” 
At that moment Mrs. Weasley entered the bar, laden with shopping bags and followed by the twins, Fred and George, who were about to start their fifth year at Hogwarts; the newly elected Head Boy, Percy; and the Weasleys” youngest child and only girl, Ginny. 
Ginny, who had always been very taken with Harry, seemed even more heartily embarrassed than usual when she saw him, perhaps because he had saved her life during their previous year at Hogwarts. She went very red and muttered “hello” without looking at him. Percy, however, held out his hand solemnly as though he and Harry had never met and said, “Harry. How nice to see you.” 
“Hello, Percy,” said Harry, trying not to laugh. 
“I hope you're well?” said Percy pompously, shaking hands. It was rather like being introduced to the mayor. 
“Very well, thanks —” 
“Harry!” said Fred, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing deeply. “Simply splendid to see you, old boy —” 
“Marvelous,” said George, pushing Fred aside and seizing Harry's hand in turn. “Absolutely spiffing.” 
Percy scowled. 
“That's enough, now,” said Mrs. Weasley. 
“Mum!” said Fred, as though he'd only just spotted her and seizing her hand, too. “How really corking to see you —” 
“I said, that's enough,” said Mrs. Weasley, depositing her shopping in an empty chair. “Hello, Harry, dear. I suppose you've heard our exciting news?” She pointed to the brand-new silver badge on Percy's chest. “Second Head Boy in the family!” she said, swelling with pride. 
“And last,” Fred muttered under his breath. 
I don't doubt that,” said Mrs. Weasley, frowning suddenly. “I notice they haven't made you two prefects.” 
“What do we want to be prefects for?” said George, looking revolted at the very idea. “It'd take all the fun out of life.” 
Ginny giggled. 
“You want to set a better example for your sister!” snapped Mrs. Weasley. 
“Gunny's got other brothers to set her an example, Mother,” said Percy loftily. “I'm going up to change for dinner…” 
He disappeared and George heaved a sigh. 
“We tried to shut him in a pyramid,” he told Harry. “But Mum spotted us.” 
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　* 
Dinner that night was a very enjoyable affair. Tom the innkeeper put three tables together in the parlor, and the seven Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione ate their way through five delicious courses. 
“How're we getting to King's Cross tomorrow, Dad?” asked Fred as they dug into a sumptuous chocolate pudding. 
“The Ministry's providing a couple of cars,” said Mr. Weasley. 
Everyone looked up at him. 
“Why?” said Percy curiously. 
“It's because of you, Perce,” said George seriously. “And there'll be little flags on the hoods, with HB on them—” 
“— for Humongous Bighead,” said Fred. 
Everyone except Percy and Mrs. Weasley snorted into their pudding. 
“Why are the Ministry providing cars, Father?” Percy asked again, in a dignified voice. 
“Well, as we haven't got one anymore,” said Mr. Weasley, “and as I work there, they're doing me a favor…” 
His voice was casual, but Harry couldn't help noticing that Mr. Wesley's ears had gone red, just like Ron's did when he was under pressure. 
“Good thing, too,” said Mrs. Weasley briskly. “Do you realize how much luggage you've all got between you? A nice sight you'd be on the Muggle Underground…You are all packed, aren't you?” 
“Ron hasn't put all his new things in his trunk yet,” said Percy, in a long-suffering voice. “He's dumped them on my bed.” 
“You'd better go and pack properly, Ron, because we won't have much time in the morning,” Mrs. Weasley called down the table. Ron scowled at Percy. 
After dinner everyone felt very full and sleepy. One by one they made their way upstairs to their rooms to check their things for the next day. Ron and Percy were next door to Harry. He had just closed and locked his own trunk when he heard angry voices through the wall, and went to see what was going on. 
The door of number twelve was ajar and Percy was shouting. 
“It was here, on the bedside table, I took it off for polishing —” 
“I haven't touched it, all right?” Ron roared back. 
“What's up?” said Harry. 
“My Head Boy badge is gone,” said Percy, rounding on Harry. 
“So's Scabbers's Rat Tonic,” said Ron, throwing things out of his trunk to look. “I think I might've left it in the bar —” 
“You're not going anywhere till you've found my badge!” yelled Percy. 
“I'll get Scabbers's stuff, I'm packed,” Harry said to Ron, and he went downstairs. 
Harry was halfway along the passage to the bar, which was now very dark, when he heard another pair of angry voices coming from the parlor. A second later, he recognized them as Mr. and Mrs. Weasleys”. He hesitated, not wanting them to know he'd heard them arguing, when the sound of his own name made him stop, then move closer to the parlor door. 
“…makes no sense not to tell him,” Mr. Weasley was saying heatedly. “Harry's got a right to know. I've tried to tell Fudge, but he insists on treating Harry like a child. He's thirteen years old and —” 
“Arthur, the truth would terrify him!” said Mrs. Weasley shrilly. “Do you really want to send Harry back to school with that hanging over him? For heaven's sake, he's happy not knowing!” 
“I don't want to make him miserable, I want to put him on his guard!” retorted Mr. Weasley. “You know what Harry and Ron are like, wandering off by themselves — they've ended up in the Forbidden Forest twice! But Harry mustn't do that this year! When I think what could have happened to him that night he ran away from home! If the Knight Bus hadn't picked him up, I'm prepared to bet he would have been dead before the Ministry found him.” 
“But he's not dead, he's fine, so what's the point —” 
“Molly, they say Sirius Black's mad, and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape from Azkaban, and that's supposed to be impossible. It's been three weeks, and no one's seen hide nor hair of him, and I don't care what Fudge keeps telling the Daily Prophet, we're no nearer catching Black than inventing self-spelling wands. The only thing we know for sure is what Black's after —” 
“But Harry will be perfectly safe at Hogwarts.” 
“We thought Azkaban was perfectly safe. If Black can break out of Azkaban, he can break into Hogwarts.” 
“But no one's really sure that Black's after Harry —” 
There was a thud on wood, and Harry was sure Mr. Weasley had banged his fist on the table. 
“Molly, how many times do I have to tell you? They didn't report it in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet, but Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards told Fudge that Blacks been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same words: “He's at Hogwarts…he's at Hogwarts.” Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants Harry dead. If you ask me, he thinks murdering Harry will bring You-Know-Who back to power. Black lost everything the night Harry stopped You-Know-Who, and he's had twelve years alone in Azkaban to brood on that…” 
There was a silence. Harry leaned still closer to the door, desperate to hear more. 
“Well, Arthur, you must do what you think is right. But you're forgetting Albus Dumbledore. I don't think anything could hurt Harry at Hogwarts while Dumbledore's Headmaster. I suppose he knows about all this?” 
“Of course he knows. We had to ask him if he minds the Azkaban guards stationing themselves around the entrances to the school grounds. He wasn't happy about it, but he agreed.” 
“Not happy? Why shouldn't he be happy, if they're there to catch Black?” 
“Dumbledore isn't fond of the Azkaban guards,” said Mr. Weasley heavily. “Nor am I, if it comes to that…but when you're dealing with a wizard like Black, you sometimes have to join forces with those you'd rather avoid.” 
“If they save Harry —” 
“– then I will never say another word against them, said Mr. Weasley wearily. “It's late, Molly, we'd better go up…” 
Harry heard chairs move. As quietly as he could, he hurried down the passage to the bar and out of sight. The parlor door opened, and a few seconds later footsteps told him that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were climbing the stairs. 
The bottle of rat tonic was lying under the table they had sat at earlier. Harry waited until he heard Mr. and Mrs. Wesley's bedroom door close, then headed back upstairs with the bottle. 
Fred and George were crouching in the shadows on the landing, heaving with laughter as they listened to Percy dismantling his and Ron's room in search of his badge. 
“We've got it,” Fred whispered to Harry. “We've been improving it.” 
The badge now read Bighead Boy. 
Harry forced a laugh, went to give Ron the rat tonic, then shut himself in his room and lay down on his bed. 
So Sirius Black was after him. This explained everything. Fudge had been lenient with him because he was so relieved to find him alive. He'd made Harry promise to stay in Diagon Alley where there were plenty of wizards to keep an eye on him. And he was sending two Ministry cars to take them all to the station tomorrow, so that the Weasleys could look after Harry until he was on the train. 
Harry lay listening to the muffled shouting next door and wondered why he didn't feel more scared. Sirius Black had murdered thirteen people with one curse; Mr. and Mrs., Weasley obviously thought Harry would be panic-stricken if he knew the truth. But Harry happened to agree wholeheartedly with Mrs. Weasley that the safest place on earth was wherever Albus Dumbledore happened to be. Didn't people always say that Dumbledore was the only person Lord Voldemort had ever been afraid of? Surely Black, as Voldemort's right-hand man, would be just as frightened of him? 
And then there were these Azkaban guards everyone kept talking about. They seemed to scare most people senseless, and if they were stationed all around the school, Black's chances of getting inside seemed very remote. 
No, all in all, the thing that bothered Harry most was the fact that his chances of visiting Hogsmeade now looked like zero. Nobody would want Harry to leave the safety of the castle until Black was caught; in fact, Harry suspected his every move would be carefully watched until the danger had passed. 
He scowled at the dark ceiling. Did they think he couldn't look after himself? He'd escaped Lord Voldemort three times; he wasn't completely useless…. 
Unbidden, the image of the beast in the shadows of Magnolia Crescent crossed his mind. What to do when you know the worst is coming… 
“I'm not going to be murdered,” Harry said out loud. 
“That's the spirit, dear,” said his mirror sleepily. 
哈利用了几天的时间才适应这种自由，他从未试过像现在一样随他什么时候起床，爱吃什么就能吃什么，只要在戴阿宫道内，他可以去任何地方。而且在这像平底渔船的街道，有很多迷人的魔法商店。 
　　哈利每天早上在例格歌注吃早餐，在那儿他喜欢看其他客人。 
　　那些有趣的的老妇人来自乡村，赶到这儿整天的买东西。看上去很尊贵的巫师在为最新的文章《今天面客》争辩。还有一次，一个看起来像魔女的人戴着羊毛的拉法帽点了一盘生的肝脏。 
　　吃过早餐后，哈利会走进后院，拿出他的魔杖在左边的垃圾箱旁敲了三下，然后就站回进戴阿宫道在墙上开的横路口前。 
　　哈利在明朗的天气里花很多时间逛商店。在餐厅前各种颜色的伞下的商店吃东西。一个吃饭的人则在展示他们所买的东西：“这是个月球望远镜，小伙子，看到了吗？不要再把月亮图表混淆。”还有人在讨论西里斯。巴拉克的案件：“我个人认为不应该让孩子单独出来，直到他被关回阿兹克班……”哈利不用再拿着手电筒在毛毯下面做功课了。现在他可以在费莱里。弗特克的冰淇淋商店旁边，太阳底下做他的功课。有时候费莱里。弗特克亲自帮他写论文。费莱里居然知道很多中世纪焚烧巫婆的事，而且仍然每半个钟头免费给哈利一些圣代。 
　　一旦哈利又把他的钱包装满了帆船币、镰刀币和克拉币，这些都是从格林的金库里提的。他必须自我控制不要一次完全花完。他不得不一直提醒自己他还要在霍格瓦彻读五年，他不能想象向杜斯利一家要钱买魔咒书的感受，他制止自己买那套漂亮的坚固的金石（像大理石，是用来玩一种魔法游戏的，游戏中这石喷出难闻的液体到每一个参加游戏的人的脸上，当然是当他输了一分的时候。）他觉得很诱人，可以在一个很大的玻璃球里看着一大堆人，他认为这样基本上不用再上关于天体运行的课了。在哈利到达例格歌注的一个星期后，哈利发现最吸引他的莫过于他最喜欢的商店——快迪斯高质量货品。 
　　哈利看到很多人在商店里看着什么，他很好奇，于是在兴奋的巫婆和巫师群中挤进去，看到了在一个新建的指挥台上放着他一生从没见过的最堂皇美丽的扫帚。 
　　“看呀，这才是最标准的。”一个方脸的巫师对他的同伴说。 
　　“爸爸，这是世界上飞得最快的扫帚，是吗？”一个幼稚的小孩在问，他边说边挣脱他爸爸的手臂。 
　　“国际快迪斯赛那方刚刚下了订单要七个这样漂亮的商品。”商店的经营者对着人群嚷，“它们在世界杯中是最受欢迎的。” 
　　一个身型很大的巫婆在哈利身边离开，他现在可以看到扫帚上的说明书了。 
　　霹雳国家艺术部展开流线型的扫帚竞赛。这扫帚如钻石般发亮，每把扫帚都有国家注册的特定号码，能轻而易举地控制飞行。每把扫帚尾都是精选独特的择树嫩枝经过摩擦达到空气力运动的理想效果，使得这霹雳具有超越的平衡和标准性。这霹雳在十秒钟可以加速到一百五十英里，还有神效的无形的煞车按钮，价钱合理。 
　　“价钱合理……哈利不敢想这霹雳要多少钱，他从来没有这么强烈渴望过拥有一件东西，但是在学校中他从没有输过一场快迪斯比赛，因为他已经有一把很好的扫帚了，如果再买这把，他在格林高斯银行的金库就会很快用光的。哈利没有问价钱，但是之后他每天都去那商店看霹雳。 
　　但是有些东西哈利的确要买。他去药房填充一份必要的药物成份。他的校服的袖子和裤脚都太短了。他到了玛什女士的服装店里买了新的衣服。现在最重要的是他还要买新的教科书，包括两个科目，关于魔法动物的，和还有占卜术的。 
　　哈利往书店的橱窗看时吓了一跳，里面并不是陈列着金色封面的像铺地砖般厚的咒语书，而是在玻璃旁放着一个很大的铁架，里面有一百多本《妖怪的魔书》。 
　　里面的书互相掀开，愤怒地摔跤，狠狠地打斗，撕的书页到处飞。 
　　哈利拿出那书名列表首次认真地参看，《妖怪的魔书》是关于魔法动物科中的一本，现在哈利终于明白了为什么哈格力说它将会有用。他觉得有点安慰了。他在想哈格力会不会想要一些吓人的新宠物。 
　　当哈利进入这费里什。布克特书店时，经理立即向他走过来。 
　　“在霍格瓦彻读书？”他粗暴地问，“过来买需要的新书吧。” 
　　“好的，”哈利说，“我要……” 
　　“让开！”经理把哈利推到一边很不耐烦地说，他带上很厚的手套，拿起一支大而有节的棍子向《妖怪的魔书》那书厢走去。 
　　“等等”哈利匆忙地说，“我已经有一本了。” 
　　“你有了？”经理脸上露出了大大的安慰，“太好了，谢天谢地，我今天早上被书打了好几次了。” 
　　一阵响亮的打斗声传入耳朵，两本妖怪书正抓着第三本要把它撕开。 
　　“停手，停手。”经理大声喊，他用手杖在栏杆外把书分开。“我再也不买这种书了，再也不会！简直发疯的！是坏的，我们买了两百本《妖怪的魔书》简直让我们破产，我们再也不买了……对了，你还要些什么书吗？” 
　　“是的。”哈利看看书单说，“我还想要卡新特。华莱史卡写的《明亮的将来》。” 
　　“哦，是占卜学的入门，是吗？”经理说着把手套脱下来，领着哈利到商店后面。那儿有一角放满了占卜用的书。一张小桌子上放着好几册书有《对不能预算的预测》、《震惊法》还有《破碎的球》、《当前途被毁时》。 
　　“拿着。”经理说，他刚从楼梯上下来，手里拿着一本黑色的厚厚的书——《明亮的将来》。“这是一本很好的基本占卜指导书，里面说到手相术、晶莹球、鸟内脏结构……” 
　　但是哈利没有听。他的眼看着另一本在小桌子上陈列的书。 
　　《死亡预兆：当你知道最坏的时刻将要到来时该怎么做》。 
　　“哦，我要是你就不会读这本了。”一个售书员看到哈利盯著书时轻轻地说，“无论在哪里你都可以看到死亡的预兆，这都已经够吓人的了。” 
　　但是哈利继续看著书的封面，上面有一只大如熊的黑狗，眼睛闪闪发亮。它看上去很面熟…… 
　　售货员把《明亮的将来》放到哈利的手上。 
　　“还要其它的书吗？”他说。 
　　“是的。”哈利说着把视线从那封面上的狗移开，再看了一下书单，“嗯，我想要《中级的变形术》还有《标准咒语书，三年级》。 
　　十分钟后，哈利用手臂夹着新书走出费里什。布克特书店。走回例格歌注。他几乎不知道他要去哪里，因此撞了好几个人。 
　　他踏上楼梯走向自己的房间，走进去把书松开放在床上。有人进来打扫过，前是开着的，阳光照射进来，哈利听到外面的公共汽车在马格的大街上隆隆开过，又听到戴阿宫道上那些隐形的人喧哗的声音。 
　　“这不可能是死亡的预兆的。”他不能相信自己的预感，“当我在马克来里新月街上看到那东西的时候我觉得突然很惊恐，那可能是一条迷失的狗……” 
　　他机械般抬起手试试压乎他的头发。 
　　“亲爱的，你在打一场必输的仗。”他对着镜子喘着气说。 
　　日子就这样过去，哈利开始每去一个地方都在寻找罗恩或者荷米恩留下的信号。 
　　现在很多霍格瓦彻的学生来到戴阿宫道了；新学期快开始了。原来他们也是去看霹雳。在费里什。布克特外面，哈利遇到了尼维尔，他是一个圆脸的、健忘的人。哈利没有停下来跟他聊天。尼维尔好像丢了他的书单，正在被严肃的祖母教训着。哈利希望她永远不会知道他在逃出杜斯利家后自称尼维尔。 
　　哈利在暑假的最后一天醒过来时，想着最迟明天就可以见到罗恩和荷米思了，可能在霍格瓦彻列车上。他起来穿好了衣服，准备好一切。正当他在想去哪里吃午餐时听到有人喊他的名字，他转过身。 
　　“哈利！哈利！” 
　　他们都在那里，坐在费莱里。弗特克的冰淇淋店外面，满脸雀斑的罗恩，黄褐头发的荷米恩正疯狂地向他招手。 
　　“终于见到你了。”罗恩看着哈利坐下的时候说，“我们去了例格歌注，但他们说你已经走了，我们就走去了费里什。布克特还有玛什女士那里，还有——” 
　　“上星期我已经把上学的东西弄好了。”哈利解释说，“你们怎么知道我留在例格歌往往的？” 
　　“爸爸说的。”罗思简单地回答。 
　　“你真与你姨妈闹翻了吗？”荷米恩认真地说。 
　　“我也不想这样的。”哈利看着罗恩大起来时说，“我失去控制了。” 
　　“罗恩，这可不是玩的。”荷米恩尖锐地说，“说实话，听到哈利不会被开除我很高兴。” 
　　“我也是。”哈利承认说，“别说要开除，我还怕被抓起来。”他看着罗恩问：“你爸爸知道法治放我走的，对吗？” 
　　“很可能是因为你吧。”罗恩耸耸肩说，仍在吃吃地笑。“说什么哈利·波特出名了什么的，如果我跟我姨妈闹翻了，我也会讨厌看到那部长那样对我。无论如何，你今天晚上可以问我爸，我们今天也会在例格歌注过夜的。因而你明天可以去国王大道十字路口等我们，荷米恩也会去的。” 
　　荷米恩点点头，笑了笑说：“爸爸妈妈明天早上帮我拿东西到霍格瓦彻。” 
　　“太好了。”哈利高兴地说，“那你已经把书和其它的都准备好了吧？” 
　　“看这个。”罗恩说着拉出一个细长的盒子并打开它，“名牌新魔杖，十四寸，用柳枝做的，有一条麒麟毛，我们都买好书了。”他指着桌子下的一个大袋说，“那些妖怪书呢，怎样？那售货员听到我们要两本简直要哭了。” 
　　“荷米恩，那是什么？”哈利指着她凳子下的三个中一个最突出的袋子问。 
　　“嗯，我将要上的科目比你多，对吗？”荷米恩说，“那些是关于数字占卜法，关于魔法动物保护、物品占卜法、古代神秘符号、马格学说等书。” 
　　“你为什么学马格学说呢？”罗恩的眼转向哈利说，“你在马格里长大，你爸妈都是马格人，你已经知道够多的马格的事了。” 
　　“但是从魔法的角度来学习他们是很奇妙的。”荷术恩真诚地说。 
　　“你有为今年吃和往等考虑过吗？”哈利看着罗恩低声问。荷米恩不管他们俩。 
　　“我们有十个帆船市，”她看着钱包说，“我在九日生日，爸妈事先给我钱买生日礼物／‘”好漂亮的书呀。“罗恩天真地说。 
　　“不，我不这么认为。”荷米恩沉着地道，“我真想有一只猫头鹰，我的意思是，哈利有海线而你又有厄罗尔了——” 
　　“我没有。”罗恩说，“厄罗尔是我们家的，我只有斯卡伯斯，”他从衣袋里掏出他的宠物鼠，“而且我想把他检查一下。”他把斯卡伯斯放在他们面前的桌子时加了一句，“我认为埃及不适合他。” 
　　斯卡伯斯看上去瘦了很多，胡须也垂了下来。 
　　“那边有一间魔法动物店。”哈利说，他现在对戴河宫道很熟悉了。“你可以去看看他们怎样检查斯卡伯斯，荷米恩也可以在那儿买一只猎头鹰。” 
　　于是他们付了冰淇淋的钱，穿过马路去那神奇的马纳格娜。 
　　那里的地方不大。几乎每寸墙都挂着一个笼子。这里不但有点具而且又吵，因为笼子里的居住者都在吱吱喳喳地叫，嘎嘎地叫，还有含糊的嘶嘶声。柜台后面的巫婆在给一位巫师介绍怎样养一个两头蛛螺。因此，哈利、罗思和荷米恩只好等着，看着笼子。 
　　一对很大的紫色的蛤蟆在大口大口地喝水，随后又吃死了的绿头大苍蝇，一只巨型的乌龟镶着珠宝的壳在窗边闪闪发亮；一只橙红色的毒蛇慢慢从玻璃槽里探出头来；还有一只肥白的兔子蹦跃不断地跳进那丝绸帽里，发出砰砰的响声。那儿还有各种颜色的猫，一宠很吵的乌鸦。还有一笼蓝颜色的毛茸茸的东西在嗡嗡地响。 
　　在柜台上，一个大的宠子里满是光滑的黑鼠，它们在用尾巴跳跃着玩游戏。 
　　那买两头蝾螈的人走了。罗恩走近柜台。 
　　“这是我的老鼠，”他告诉巫婆，“我把它带到埃及，回来后它的毛颜色变淡了。” 
　　“放它在柜台上。”那巫婆从口袋拿出一幅又重又黑的眼镜。 
　　罗恩从衣袋中掏出斯卡伯斯，并把它放在其它老鼠笼子旁边。 
　　它们停止玩那跳跃游戏，混乱地走在那电线上。 
　　就像罗恩其他几乎所有的东西一样，斯卡伯斯也是二手的，（它以前是罗恩的哥哥伯希的）有点老了，对比起旁边在笼子内的有光泽的老鼠，它看起来特别衰老。 
　　“嗯，”那妇人拿起斯卡伯斯说，“它几岁了？” 
　　“我不知道。”罗恩说，“我想相当大了，它以前是我哥哥的。” 
　　“它有什么能力？”那妇人仔细看着老鼠时间。 
　　“嗯——”罗恩说，实际上斯卡伯斯从来没有显示过它哪方面的能力。那巫婆的眼珠从斯卡伯斯的破了的左耳移到它的前爪，有一只脚趾缺了，在嘘嘘地响。 
　　“这只曾被碾过。”她说。 
　　“伯希给我的时候它就这样了。”罗恩辩护说。 
　　“一只普通的或者是像这只花园内的老鼠一般不能活过三年的。”巫婆说，“现在，你在这找一只健壮的吧，你可能会喜欢它们中的一只……” 
　　她指着那些黑色的老鼠，它们立即又开始跳跃，罗恩咕噜道：“在炫耀她的老鼠。” 
　　“好了，如果你不想买一只代替，你可以让它吃这个老鼠滋补药。”那巫婆边说边伸手到柜台下拿出一瓶红色的药。 
　　“好的。”罗恩说，“要多少钱？” 
　　罗恩看到一只大的红色的东西从最高的袋子飞出，落在他头上然后又跃起来向着斯卡伯斯疯狂地冲过去。 
　　“天啊，不要。”巫婆大喊。但斯卡伯斯像一块肥皂一样从她手中滑落，四肢张开地跌在地板上，然后向门外逃。 
　　“斯卡伯斯！”罗恩大声喊，跟着它冲出商店，哈利紧跟上。 
　　他们花了近十分钟才找到斯卡伯斯，它在快迪斯高质量货品商店的废纸堆里避难，罗恩把颤抖着的老鼠放回衣袋里，站起来，按摩一下它的头。 
　　“那是什么？” 
　　“它是一只非常大的猫，就是一只非常小的老虎。”哈利说。 
　　“荷米恩去哪儿了？” 
　　他们在拥挤的街上向马纳格娜走去，荷米恩出来了，但她并不是买了一只猎头鹰。她怀里紧紧抱着一只很大的姜黄色的猫。 
　　“他很威武，不是吗？”荷米恩高兴地说。 
　　哈利想各人有各人的想法的。那猫姜黄色的毛又厚又松软，但很明显它的眼是弓状的，它的脸奇怪的扁，十分暴躁的样子，好像刚刚头撞到墙上一样，现在斯卡伯斯不见了，那猫在荷米恩的怀里轻轻地噜噜地响。 
　　“荷米恩，那东西刚刚真吓死我了。”罗恩说。 
　　“他不是故意的，是吗？克路殊克？”荷米恩说。 
　　“那斯卡伯斯怎么办？”罗恩指着胸前鼓起来的口袋说，“它需要休息和放松，它怎么跟那东西相处呀？” 
　　“你提醒我了，罗恩，你忘了拿你的老鼠滋补药。”荷米思把那红色的小药瓶放到罗恩手上。 
　　“你不用担心，克路殊克会在我宿舍睡，斯卡伯斯在你那睡，还会有问题吗？ 
　　可怜的克路殊克，那巫婆说他已经在那店里很久了，没有人喜欢它。“ 
　　“我明白为什么。”罗恩讽刺地说，然后他们向例格歌注走去。 
　　他们发现威斯里先生坐在酒吧里读《先知日报》。 
　　“哈利，”他抬起头微笑说，“你好吗？” 
　　“好，谢谢！”哈利说。他和罗恩、荷米恩纷纷告诉威斯里买东西的事。 
　　威斯里先生放下他的报纸，哈利又看到熟识的西里斯。巴拉克的照片又在盯着他。 
　　“他们还没有捉到他？”他问。 
　　“还没有。”威斯里先生叹气地说，“他们已经要我们停止正常工作去找他，目前为止还是没消息。” 
　　“如果我们抓住他会有奖赏吗？”罗恩问，“最好能够拿到点钱——” 
　　“别瞎说了，罗恩。”威斯里先生说着，面容显得很严厉。“巴拉克不是你们十三岁的小巫师能抓的，阿兹克班的卫士会把他抓回来的。” 
　　这时候，威斯里太太回到酒吧里，手里拿着许多东西。孪生兄弟弗朱德和乔治跟着她，他们就要在霍格瓦彻上五年级了。后面还有刚被选为优秀青年的伯希，还有威斯里最小的、唯一的女儿金妮。 
　　金妮曾跟哈利相处得很开心的。这时见到他显得更难为情了。 
　　可能是因为上个学期在霍格瓦彻他救过她，她脸很红。小声地说声，“你好。” 
　　没有抬头看他。伯希正经地伸出手，好像他们从未见过面般地说：“哈利，很高兴见到你。” 
　　“伯希，你好。”哈利忍着笑说。 
　　“你好吧，我想？”伯希握手时自负地说，好像被当选市长了。 
　　“很好，谢谢。” 
　　“哈利，”弗来德用肘部推开伯希向哈利深深地鞠躬，“小子，见到你太好了。” 
　　“太好了。”乔治推开弗来德到一旁握着哈利的手说，“实在太好了。” 
　　伯希皱皱眉。 
　　“够了吧！”威斯里太太说。 
　　“妈妈！”弗来德好像刚碰见她一样，捉着她的手说，“真的很高兴见到你。” 
　　“我说够了，”威斯里夫人把东西放在一张空凳子上，“亲爱的哈利，你好，你知道我们的好消息了吧？”她指着伯希胸前的优秀青年徽章说，“我们家的第二个优秀青年。”她高兴地嚷道。 
　　“最后一个了。”弗来德咕噜着说。 
　　“我也不怀疑这个。”威斯里突然皱起眉头说，“我想他们俩不可能成为优秀青年的。” 
　　“我们想要的是什么？”乔治对这看法很反感，“我们要活得充实点。” 
　　金妮咯咯地笑。 
　　“你想给你妹妹树下一个好榜样！”威斯里太太大声说。 
　　“妈妈，金妮还有其他哥哥作榜样的。”伯希傲慢地说，“我先换件衣服再来吃饭。” 
　　他出去了，乔治叹了一口气。 
　　“我们想把他关在金字塔里面的。”他告诉哈利，“但被妈妈看到了。” 
　　那晚餐很丰盛，店主汤姆把三张桌子并在一起，让威斯里一家七口，还有哈利和荷米恩可以围坐起来。 
　　“爸爸，我们明天怎么去国王大道十字路口？”弗来德问，一边把可口的巧克力布丁塞到口里。 
　　“部里准备提供五辆车。”威斯里说。 
　　每个人都抬头看着他。 
　　“是吗？”伯希好奇地说。 
　　“那是因为你呀，伯希。”乔治严肃地说，“汽车上还有小旗，小旗上写着‘HB’。” 
　　“是滑稽的大头仔的意思。”弗来德说。 
　　除了伯希和威斯里太太每个人都在津津有味地吃着布丁。 
　　“那为什么部里会为我们准备车呢，爸爸？”伯希又问，用着高贵的语调。 
　　“嗯，因为我们还没有车。”威斯里先生说，“而且我在那工作，他们帮我一个忙。” 
　　他很随便地说，但是哈利注意到威斯里的脸红了，就像罗恩觉得有压力的时候的样子。 
　　“的确好，”威斯里太太伶俐地说，“你知道你们俩要拿多少行李吗？你将会在非魔法界的隧道中显得很搞笑的……那东西都包好了吧？” 
　　“罗恩还没有把他新买的东西放到车厢上，”伯希显得很委屈地说，“他把它们放在我床上。” 
　　“罗恩，你最好去把东西收拾好，因为我们明天也没多少时间了。”威斯里太太离开餐桌。罗恩向伯希皱眉头。 
　　吃过晚餐后，大家都觉得饱了而且很困。一个接一个上楼到自己的房间检查好第二天要拿走的东西。罗恩和伯希在哈利的隔壁房。哈利刚合上皮箱锁就听到墙外传来生气的声音。哈利走去看看是怎么回事。 
　　第十二号房半开着，伯希正在大声喊。 
　　“我刚才在这里，床前桌子旁，我把它拿出来擦擦——” 
　　“听着，我没有碰过它。”罗恩大声顶回去。 
　　“怎么回事？”哈利问。 
　　“是斯卡伯斯的老鼠滋补药。”罗恩说着把皮箱的东西都翻出来找，“我想可能留在酒吧里。” 
　　“你没找到我的徽章的话，不要离开。”伯希嚷着。 
　　“我帮你拿那药，我的东西都收拾好了。”哈利对罗恩说，然后跑下楼。 
　　哈利在去酒吧的路上觉得很累，他听到客厅里传来的另外两个生气的声音，过了一会，他认出是威斯里夫妇的。他犹豫了一会，他不想让他们知道他听到了他们的吵架。他突然听到有人喊他的名字，于是停下来走近客房。 
　　“不应该不告诉他。”威斯里先生气愤地说，“哈利有权利知道，我已经尝试过告诉弗来德，但他坚持说把哈利当孩子看待。他十三岁了，而且——” 
　　“天啊，他会被真相吓倒的。”威斯里太太尖叫说。“难道你真想哈刮回学校时让那事困扰着他？他不知道会快乐一点。” 
　　“我不想让他难过，我想让他警惕起来。”威斯里先生反驳，“你知道罗恩和哈利他们出去玩，两次去了禁林里面，但是哈利今年不能去了，知道那天他从家里出来会有什么危险吗？要不是爵士巴土及时接走他，他在部长找到他之前肯定已经死了。” 
　　“但是他没有死，他还很好，那还为什么——” 
　　“摩莉，他们说西里斯。巴拉克疯了，可能他是。但他还是够聪明从阿兹克班中逃出来，他们都认为是不可能的事，已经三个星期了，人们还不能找到他一条头发，我不在乎弗来德跟《先知日报》怎么说。 
　　我们像不能发明魔杖一样不能找到巴拉克，我们只知道巴拉克要找的是谁——“”但是哈利在霍格瓦彻会很安全的。“ 
　　“我们也认为阿兹克班很安全。如果巴拉克能逃出阿兹克班，他也能进入霍格瓦彻。” 
　　“但没有人敢肯定巴拉克正在找哈利。” 
　　那里传来砰的一声，哈利敢肯定威斯里先生的拳头重重打在桌子上。 
　　“摩莉，我告诉你，他们不报导出来是因为法治不想让大家知道。 
　　但是法治在巴拉克逃出来那个晚上去过阿兹克班，那里的卫士告诉法治说巴拉克在睡觉的时候说了好一阵话，总是那句：“他在霍格瓦彻，他在霍格瓦彻……‘巴拉克发狂了。摩莉，他想哈利死，如果你要问我的看法。巴拉克认为杀死哈利，’那个人‘就会复苏的。哈利十二年前击跨了’那个人‘，让他几乎失去了所有的力量，在阿兹克班的十二年中，巴拉克一直在仇恨……” 
　　然后是一阵沉默，哈利更加贴近门，非常渴望多听一些。 
　　“亚瑟，你快忘了艾伯斯。丹伯多了。我认为在霍格瓦彻里没有人可以伤害哈利的，只要丹伯多还是校长的话，他都知道这些吧？” 
　　“他当然知道，我们已请示他是否介意调动阿兹克班的士兵进入学校场地。他不大高兴，但还是同意了。” 
　　“不高兴？他怎么可能还高兴，他们要去那里抓巴拉克呀。” 
　　“丹伯多不大喜欢阿兹克班的士兵。‘城斯里沉沉地说，”我也不喜欢，但在这场合……但你要对付像巴拉克这样的巫师，有时只能跟一些你宁愿不要的部队合作。“”如果他们救了哈利——“ 
　　“那我就不再说他们什么了。”威斯里先生疲惫地说，“已经很晚了，摩莉，我们上去吧。” 
　　哈利听到凳子移动的声音。他尽量轻轻地迅速跑向酒巴，在那门前消失。客厅的门开了，几秒后，脚步声告诉他威斯里夫妇上楼去了。 
　　那瓶滋补药就在他们先前坐过的凳子下面。哈利拿着瓶等到威斯里夫妇房间的门关上了，才轻轻上楼。 
　　弗来德和乔治蹲在楼梯平台边听着伯希和罗恩在房间里移动家具找那徽章，他们在偷偷地笑。 
　　“我们拿到手了。”弗来德低声告诉哈利，“我们还改了它。” 
　　现在那徽章上刻着“大头仔”。 
　　哈利勉强笑了笑，走向罗恩递给他那瓶药。然后回到自己房间关上门，躺在床上。 
　　看来西里斯。巴拉克在找他。那可以解释其它的事了，法治对他那么宽容是因为他看到他还活着已经很安慰了。他让哈利承诺他会留在戴阿宫道，那儿有许多魔法师可以照看他。他明天还派两辆车接他们去车站，那样威斯里可以一路上照顾他直到他上了火车。 
　　哈利躺着，听到外面的吵闹声，他自己也奇怪他为什么不觉得怕，西里斯。巴拉克用一条咒语可以杀十三个人，威斯里很明显是担心哈利知道真相后会害怕，但哈利恰好也同意威斯里所说的世界上最安全的地方就是艾伯斯。丹伯多那里，人们不也是总在说丹伯多是福尔得摩特最怕的吗？巴拉克作为福尔得摩特的手下，当然也怕他了。 
　　这时，人们都在谈论这些阿兹克班卫兵。他们似乎毫无意义地恐吓着人们。而且如果他们都驻扎在学校，巴拉克就更不可能到那儿去。 
　　总的来说，最困扰哈利的事就是他去参观霍格马得的机会接近零了。除非巴拉克被抓起来，要不没有人会让哈利离开安全的城堡的。事实上，他的一举一动都被监视着直到危险期过去。 
　　他对着天花板叹了口气。他们都认为他不能照顾好自己吗？他三次从福尔得摩特手中逃生，他并不是没用的。 
　　但在马克来军新月街动物的阴影和那本书封面上的狗掠过他的脑海，“当你知道他要来的时候。你会怎样做……” 
　　“亲爱的。那只是幻觉。”他对着镜子疲惫地说。 
Chapter 5 The Dementor
Tom woke Harry the next morning with his usual toothless grin and a cup of tea. Harry got dressed and was just persuading a disgruntled Hedwig to get back into her cage when Ron banged his way into the room, pulling a sweatshirt over his head and looking irritable. 
“The sooner we get on the train, the better,” he said. “At least I can get away from Percy at Hogwarts. Now he's accusing me of dripping tea on his photo of Penelope Clearwater. You know,” Ron grimaced, “his girlfriend. She's hidden her face under the frame because her nose has gone all blotchy…” 
“I've got something to tell you,” Harry began, but they were interrupted by Fred and George, who had looked in to congratulate Ron on infuriating Percy again. 
They headed down to breakfast, where Mr. Weasley was reading the front page of the Daily Prophet with a furrowed brow and Mrs. Weasley was telling Hermione and Ginny about a love potion she'd made as a young girl. All three of them were rather giggly. 
“What were you saying?” Ron asked Harry as they sat down. 
“Later,” Harry muttered as Percy stormed in. 
Harry had no chance to speak to Ron or Hermione in the chaos of leaving; they were too busy heaving all their trunks down the Leaky Cauldron's narrow staircase and piling them up near the door, with Hedwig and Hermes, Percy's screech owl, perched on top in their cages. A small wickerwork basket stood beside the heap of trunks, spitting loudly. 
“It's all right, Crookshanks,” Hermione cooed through the wickerwork. “I'll let you out on the train.” 
“You won't,” snapped Ron. “What about poor Scabbers, eh?” 
He pointed at his chest, where a large lump indicated that Scabbers was curled up in his pocket. 
Mr. Weasley, who had been outside waiting for the Ministry cars, stuck his head inside. 
“They're here, he said. “Harry, come on.” 
Mr. Weasley marched Harry across the short stretch of pavement toward the first of two old-fashioned dark green cars, each of which was driven by a furtive-looking wizard wearing a suit of emerald velvet. 
“In you get, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley, glancing up and down the crowded street. 
Harry got into the back of the car and was shortly joined by Hermione, Ron, and, to Ron's disgust, Percy. 
The journey to King's Cross was very uneventful compared with Harry's trip on the Knight Bus. The Ministry of Magic cars seemed almost ordinary. though Harry noticed that they could slide through gaps that Uncle Vernon's new company car certainly couldn't have managed. They reached King's Cross with twenty minutes to spare; the Ministry drivers found them trolleys, unloaded their trunks, touched their hats in salute to Mr. Weasley, and drove away, somehow managing to jump to the head of an unmoving line at the traffic lights. 
Mr. Weasley kept close to Harry's elbow all the way into the station. 
“Right then,” he said, glancing around them. “Let's do this in pairs, as there are so many of us. I'll go through first with Harry.” 
Mr. Weasley strolled toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten, pushing Harry's trolley and apparently very interested in the InterCity 125 that had just arrived at platform nine. With a meaningful look at Harry, he leaned casually against the barrier. Harry imitated him. 
In a moment, they had fallen sideways through the solid metal onto platform nine and three-quarters and looked up to see the Hogwarts Express, a scarlet steam engine, puffing smoke over a platform packed with witches and wizards seeing their children onto the train. 
Percy and Ginny suddenly appeared behind Harry. They were panting and had apparently taken the barrier at a run. 
“Ah, there's Penelope!” said Percy, smoothing his hair and going pink again. Ginny caught Harry's eye, and they both turned away to hide their laughter as Percy strode over to a girl with long, curly hair, walking with his chest thrown out so that she couldn't miss his shiny badge. 
Once the remaining Weasleys and Hermione had joined them, Harry and Mr. Weasley led the way to the end of the train, past packed compartments, to a carriage that looked quite empty. They loaded the trunks onto it, stowed Hedwig and Crookshanks in the luggage rack, then went back outside to say goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. 
Mrs. Weasley kissed all her children, then Hermione, and finally Harry. He was embarrassed, but really quite pleased, when she gave him an extra hug. 
“Do take care, won't you Harry?” she said as she straightened up, her eyes oddly bright. Then she opened her enormous handbag and said, “I've made you all sandwiches. Here you are, Ron…no, they're not corned beef… Fred? Where's Fred? Here you are dear…” 
“Harry,” said Mr. Weasley quietly, “come over here for a moment.” 
He jerked his head towards a pillar, and Harry followed him behind it, leaving the others crowded around Mrs. Weasley. 
“There's something I've got to tell you before you leave —” said Mr. Weasley in a tense voice. 
“It's all right, Mr. Weasley,” said Harry, “I already know.” 
“You know? How could you know?” 
“I — er — I heard you and Mrs. Wesley talking last night. I couldn't help hearing,” Harry added quickly. “Sorry —” 
“That's not the way I'd have chosen for you to find out,” said Mr. Weasley looking anxious.. 
“No — honestly it's OK. This way, you haven't broken your word to Fudge and I know what's going on.” 
“Harry, you must be scared — “ 
“I'm not,” said Harry sincerely. “Really,” he added, because Mr. Weasley was looking disbelieving. “I'm not trying to be a hero, but seriously, Sirius Black can't be worse than Lord Voldemort, can he?” 
Mr. Weasley flinched at the sound of the name, but overlooked it. 
“Harry, I knew you were, well, made of stronger stuff than Fudge seems to think, and I'm obviously pleased that you're not scared, but —” 
“Arthur!” called Mrs. Weasley, who was now shepherding the rest onto the train. “Arthur, what are you doing? It's about to go!” 
“He's coming Molly!” said Mr. Weasley, but he turned back to Harry and kept talking in a lower and more hurried voice, “Listen, I want you to give me your word —” 
“ — that I'll be a good boy and stay in the castle?” said Harry gloomily. 
“Not entirely,” said Mr. Weasley, who looked more serious than Harry had ever seen him. “Harry, swear to me you won't go looking for Black.” 
Harry stared, “What!” 
There was a loud whistle. Guards were walking along the train, slamming all the doors shut. 
“Promise me, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley, talking more quickly still, “that whatever happens —” 
“Why would I go looking for someone I know wants to kill me?” said Harry blankly. 
“Swear to me that whatever you might hear —” 
“Arthur, quickly!” cried Mrs. Weasley. 
Steam was billowing from the train it had started to move. Harry ran to the compartment door and Ron threw it open and stood back to let him on. They leaned out of the window and waved at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley until the train turned a corner and blocked them from view. 
“I need to talk to you in private,” Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione as the train picked up speed. 
“Go away, Ginny,” said Ron. 
“Oh, that's nice,” said Ginny huffily, and she stalked off. 
Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off down the corridor, looking for an empty compartment, but all were full except for the one at the very end of the train. 
This had only one occupant, a man sitting fast asleep next to the window. Harry, Ron, and Hermione checked on the threshold. The Hogwarts Express was usually reserved for students and they had never seen an adult there before, except for the witch who pushed the food cart. 
The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with gray. 
“Who d'you reckon he is?” Ron hissed as they sat down and slid the door shut, taking the seats farthest away from the window. 
“Professor R. J. Lupin.” whispered Hermione at once. 
“How'd you know that?” 
“It's on his case,” she replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man's head, where there was a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name Professor R. J. Lupin was stamped across one corner in peeling letters. 
“Wonder what he teaches?” said Ron, frowning at Professor Lupin's pallid profile. 
“That's obvious,” whispered Hermione. “There's only one vacancy, isn't there? Defense Against the Dark Arts.” 
Harry, Ron, and Hermione had already had two Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, both of whom had lasted only one year. There were rumors that the job was jinxed. 
“Well, I hope he's up to it,” said Ron doubtfully. “He looks like on, good hex would finish him off, doesn't he? Anyway…” he turned to Harry, “what were you going to tell us?” 
Harry explained all about Mr. and Mrs. Wesley's argument and the warning Mr. Weasley had just given him. When he'd finished, Ron looked thunderstruck, and Hermione had her hands over her mouth. She finally lowered them to say, “Sirius Black escaped to come after you? Oh, Harry…you'll have to be really, really careful. don't go looking for trouble, Harry…” 
“I don't go looking for trouble,” said Harry, nettled. “Trouble usually finds me.” 
“How thick would Harry have to be, to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him?” said Ron shakily. 
They were taking the news worse than Harry had expected. Both Ron and Hermione seemed to be much more frightened of Black than he was. 
“No one knows how he got out of Azkaban,” said Ron uncomfortably. “No one's ever done it before. And he was a top-security prisoner too.” 
“But they'll catch him, won't they?” said Hermione earnestly. “I mean, they've got all the Muggles looking out for him too….” 
“What's that noise?” said Ron suddenly. 
A faint, tinny sort of whistle was coming from somewhere. They looked all around the compartment. 
“It's coming from your trunk, Harry,” said Ron, standing up and reaching into the luggage rack. A moment later he had pulled the Pocket Sneakoscope out from between Harry's robes. It was spinning very fast in the palm of Ron's hand and glowing brilliantly. 
“Is that a Sneakoscope?” said Hermione interestedly, standing up for a better look. 
“Yeah…mind you, it's a very cheap one,” Ron said. “It went haywire just as I was tying it to Errol's leg to send it to Harry.” 
“Were you doing anything untrustworthy at the time?” said Hermione shrewdly. 
“No! Well…I wasn't supposed to be using Errol. You know he's not really up to long journeys…but how else was I supposed to get Harry's present to him?” 
“Stick it back in the trunk,” Harry advised as the Sneakoscope whistled piercingly, “or it'll wake him up.” 
He nodded toward Professor Lupin. Ron stuffed the Sneakoscope into a particularly horrible pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks, which deadened the sound, then closed the lid of the trunk on it. 
“We could get it checked in Hogsmeade,” said Ron, sitting back down. “They sell that sort of thing in Dervish and Banges, magical instruments and stuff. Fred and George told me.” 
“Do you know much about Hogsmeade?” asked Hermione keenly. “I've read it's the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain —” 
“Yeah, I think it is,” said Ron in an offhand sort of way. “but that's not why I want to go. I just want to get inside Honeydukes!” 
“What's that?” said Hermione. 
“It's this sweetshop,” said Ron, a dreamy look coming over his face, “where they've got everything…Pepper Imps — they make you smoke at the mouth — and great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and really excellent sugar quills, which you can suck in class and just look like you're thinking what to write next–” 
“But Hogsmeade's a very interesting place, isn't it?” Hermione pressed on eagerly. “In Sites of Historical Sorcery it says the inn was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack's supposed to be the most severely haunted building in Britain —” 
“– and massive sherbet balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground while you're sucking them,” said Ron, who was plainly not listening to a word Hermione was saying. 
Hermione looked around at Harry. 
“Won't it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade?” 
“‘Spect it will,” said Harry heavily. “You'll have to tell me when you've found out.” 
“What d'you mean?” said Ron. 
“I can't go. The Dursleys didn't sign my permission form, and Fudge wouldn't either.” 
Ron looked horrified. 
“You're not allowed to come? But — no way — McGonagall or someone will give you permission —” 
Harry gave a hollow laugh. Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor house, was very strict. 
“– or we can ask Fred and George, they know every secret passage out of the castle —” 
“Ron!” said Hermione sharply. “I don't think Harry should be sneaking out of the school with Black on the loose —” 
“Yeah, I expect that's what McGonagall will say when I ask of permission,” said Harry bitterly. 
“But if we're with him,” said Ron spiritedly to Hermione. “Black wouldn't dare —” 
“Oh, Ron, don't talk rubbish,” snapped Hermione. “Black's already murdered a whole bunch of people in the middle of a crowded street, do you really think he's going to worry about attacking Harry just because we're there?” 
She was fumbling with the straps of Crookshanks's basket as she spoke. 
“Don't let that thing out!” Ron said, but too late; Crookshanks leapt lightly from the basket, stretched, yawned, and sprang onto Ron's knees; the lump in Ron's pocket trembled and he shoved Crookshanks angrily away. 
“Get out of it!” 
“Ron, don't!” said Hermione angrily. 
Ron was about to answer back when Professor Lupin stirred. They watched him apprehensively, but he simply turned his head the other way, mouth slightly open, and slept on. 
The Hogwarts Express moved steadily north and the scenery outside the window became wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thickened overhead. People were chasing backwards and forwards past the door of their compartment. Crookshanks had now settled in an empty seat, his squashed face turned towards Ron, his yellow eyes on Ron's top pocket. 
At one o'clock the plump witch with the food cart arrived at the compartment door. 
D'you think we should wake him up?” Ron asked awkwardly, nodding towards Professor Lupin. “He looks like he could do with some food.” 
Hermione approached Professor Lupin cautiously. 
“Er — Professor?” she said. “Excuse me — Professor?” 
He didn't move. 
“Don't worry, dear,” said the witch, as she handed a large stack of cauldron cakes. “If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front with the driver.” 
“I suppose he is asleep?” said Ron quietly, as the witch slid the compartment door closed. “I mean — he hasn't died, has he?” 
“No, no, he's breathing,” whispered Hermione, taking the cauldron cake Harry passed her. 
He might not be very good company, but Professor Lupin's presence in their compartment had its uses. Mid-afternoon, just as it had started to rain, blurring the rolling hills outside the window, they heard footsteps outside in the corridor again, and their three least favorite people appeared at the door: Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. 
Draco Malfoy and Harry had been enemies ever since they had met on their very first journey to Hogwarts. Malfoy, who had a pale, pointed, sneering face, was in Slytherin house; he played Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team, the same position that Harry played on the Gryffindor team. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to exist to do Malfoy's bidding. They were both wide and muscly; Crabbe was taller, with a pudding-bowl haircut and a very thick neck; Goyle had short, bristly hair and long, gorilla arms. 
“Well, look who it is,” said Malfoy in his usual lazy drawl, pulling open the compartment door. “Potty and the Weasel.” 
Crabbe and Goyle chuckled trollishly. 
“I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer, Weasley,” said Malfoy. “Did your mother die of shock?” 
Ron stood up so quickly he knocked Crookshanks's basket to the floor. Professor Lupin gave a snort. 
“Who's that?” said Malfoy, taking an automatic step backward as he spotted Lupin. 
“New teacher,” said Harry, who got to his feet, too, in case he needed to hold Ron back. “What were you saying, Malfoy?” 
Malfoy's pale eyes narrowed; he wasn't fool enough to pick a fight right under a teacher's nose. 
“C'mon,” he muttered resentfully to Crabbe and Goyle, and they disappeared. 
Harry and Ron sat down again, Ron massaging his knuckles. 
“I'm not going to take any crap from Malfoy this year,” he said angrily. “I mean it. If he makes one more crack about my family, I'm going to get hold of his head and —” 
Ron made a violent gesture in midair. 
“Ron,” hissed Hermione, pointing at Professor Lupin, “be careful…” 
But Professor Lupin was still fast asleep. 
The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still, Professor Lupin slept. 
“We must be nearly there,” said Ron, leaning forward to look past Professor Lupin at the now completely black window. 
The words had hardly left him when the train started to slow down. 
“Great,” said Ron, getting up and walking carefully past Professor Lupin to try and see outside. “I'm starving. I want to get to the feast…” 
“We can't be there yet,” said Hermione, checking her watch. 
“So why're we stopping?” 
The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows. 
Harry, who was nearest the door, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments. 
The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness. 
“What's going on?” said Ron's voice from behind Harry. 
“Ouch!” gasped Hermione. “Ron, that was my foot!” 
Harry felt his way back to his seat. 
“D'you think we've broken down?” 
“Dunno…” 
There was a squeaking sound, and Harry saw the dim black outline of Ron, wiping a patch clean on the window and peering out. 
“There's something moving out there,” Ron said. “I think people are coming aboard…” 
The compartment door suddenly opened and someone fell painfully over Harry's legs. 
“Sorry! D'you know what's going on? Ouch! Sorry —” 
“Hullo, Neville,” said Harry, feeling around in the dark and pulling Neville up by his cloak. 
“Harry? Is that you? What's happening?” 
“No idea! Sit down —” 
There was a loud hissing and a yelp of pain; Neville had tried to sit on Crookshanks. 
“I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on,” came Hermione's voice. Harry felt her pass him, heard the door slide open again, and then a thud and two loud squeals of pain. 
“Who's that?” 
“Who's that?” 
“Ginny?” 
“Hermione?” 
“What are you doing?” 
“I was looking for Ron —” 
“Come in and sit down —” 
“Not here!” said Harry hurriedly. “I'm here!” 
“Ouch!” said Neville. 
“Quiet!” said a hoarse voice suddenly. 
Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last. Harry could hear movements in his corner. 
None of them spoke. 
There was a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminated his tired, gray face, but his eyes looked alert and wary. 
“Stay where you are.” he said in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet with his handful of fire held out in front of him. 
But the door slid slowly open before Lupin could reach it. 
Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin's hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry's eyes darted downward, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water.… 
But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Harry's gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black cloak. 
And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings. 
An intense cold swept over them all. Harry felt his own breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, it was inside his very heart… 
Harry's eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn't see. He was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water. He was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder… 
And then, from far away, he heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams. He wanted to help whoever it was, he tried to move his arms, but couldn't…a thick white fog was swirling around him, inside him — 
“Harry! Harry! Are you all right?” 
Someone was slapping his face. 
“W-what?” 
Harry opened his eyes; there were lanterns above him, and the floor was shaking — the Hogwarts Express was moving again and the lights had come back on. He seemed to have slid out of his seat onto the floor. Ron and Hermione were kneeling next to him, and above them he could see Neville and Professor Lupin watching. Harry felt very sick; when he put up his hand to push his glasses back on, he felt cold sweat on his face. 
Ron and Hermione heaved him back onto his seat. 
“Are you okay?” Ron asked nervously. 
“Yeah,” said Harry, looking quickly toward the door. The hooded creature had vanished. “What happened? Where's that — that thing? Who screamed?” 
“No one screamed,” said Ron, more nervously still. 
Harry looked around the bright compartment. Ginny and Neville looked back at him, both very pale. 
“But I heard screaming —” 
A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces. 
“Here,” he said to Harry, handing him a particularly large piece. “Eat it. It'll help.” 
Harry took the chocolate but didn't eat it. 
“What was that thing?” he asked Lupin. 
“A Dementor,” said Lupin, who was now giving chocolate to everyone else. “One of the Dementors of Azkaban.” 
Everyone stared at him. Professor Lupin crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket. 
“Eat,” he repeated. “It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me…” 
He strolled past Harry and disappeared into the corridor. 
“Are you sure you're okay, Harry?” said Hermione, watching Harry anxiously. 
“I don't get it … what happened?” said Harry, wiping more sweat off his face. 
“Well — that thing — the Dementor — stood there and looked around (I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face) — and you — you —” 
“I thought you were having a fit or something,” said Ron, who still looked scared. “You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching —” 
“And Professor Lupin stepped over you, and walked toward the Dementor, and pulled out his wand,” said Hermione, “and he said, ‘None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.’ But the Dementor didn't move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away…” 
“It was horrible,” said Neville, in a higher voice than usual. “Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?” 
“I felt weird,” said Ron, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. “Like I'd never be cheerful again…” 
Ginny, who was huddled in her corner looking nearly as bad as Harry felt, gave a small sob; Hermione went over and put a comforting arm around her. 
“But didn't any of you — fall off your seats?” said Harry awkwardly. 
“No,” said Ron, looking anxiously at Harry again. “Ginny was shaking like mad, though…” 
Harry didn't understand. He felt weak and shivery, as though he were recovering from a bad bout of flu; he also felt the beginnings of shame. Why had he gone to pieces like that, when no one else had? 
Professor Lupin had come back. He paused as he entered, looked around, and said, with a small smile, “I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know…” 
Harry took a bite and to his great surprise felt warmth spread suddenly to the tips of his fingers and toes. 
“We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes,” said Professor Lupin. “Are you all right, Harry?” 
Harry didn't ask how Professor Lupin knew his name. 
“Fine,” he muttered, embarrassed. 
They didn't talk much during the remainder of the journey. At long last, the train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get outside; owls hooted, cats meowed, and Neville's pet toad croaked loudly from under his hat. It was freezing on the tiny platform; rain was driving down in icy sheets. 
“Firs’ years this way!” called a familiar voice. Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned and saw the gigantic outline of Hagrid at the other end of the platform, beckoning the terrified-looking new students forward for their traditional journey across the lake. 
“All right, you three?” Hagrid yelled over the heads of the crowd. They waved at him, but had no chance to speak to him because the mass of people around them was shunting them away along the platform. Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed the rest of the school along the platform and out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the remaining students, each pulled, Harry could only assume, by an invisible horse, because when they climbed inside and shut the door, the coach set off all by itself, bumping and swaying in procession. 
The coach smelled faintly of mold and straw. Harry felt better since the chocolate, but still weak. Ron and Hermione kept looking at him sideways, as though frightened he might collapse again. 
As the carriage trundled toward a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, Harry saw two more towering, hooded Dementors, standing guard on either side. A wave of cold sickness threatened to engulf him again; he leaned back into the lumpy seat and closed his eyes until they had passed the gates. The carriage picked up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle; Hermione was leaning out of the tiny window, watching the many turrets and towers draw nearer. At last, the carriage swayed to a halt, and Hermione and Ron got out. 
As Harry stepped down, a drawling, delighted voice sounded in his ear. 
“You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottorn telling the truth? You actually fainted?” 
Malfoy elbowed past Hermione to block Harry's way up the stone steps to the castle, his face gleeful and his pale eyes glinting maliciously. 
“Shove off, Malfoy,” said Ron, whose jaw was clenched. 
“Did you faint as well, Weasley?” said Malfoy loudly. “Did the scary old Dementor frighten you too, Weasley?” 
“Is there a problem?” said a mild voice. Professor Lupin had just gotten out of the next carriage. 
Malfoy gave Professor Lupin an insolent stare, which took in the patches on his robes and the dilapidated suitcase. With a tiny hint of sarcasm in his voice, he said, “Oh, no — er — Professor,” then he smirked at Crabbe and Goyle and led them up the steps into the castle. 
Hermione prodded Ron in the back to make him hurry, and the three of them joined the crowd swarming up the steps, through the giant oak front doors, into the cavernous Entrance Hall, which was lit with flaming torches, and housed a magnificent marble staircase that led to the upper floors. 
The door into the Great Hall stood open at the right; Harry followed the crowd toward it, but had barely glimpsed the enchanted ceiling, which was black and cloudy tonight, when a voice called, “Potter! Granger! I want to see you both!” 
Harry and Hermione turned around, surprised. Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and head of Gryffindor House, was calling over the heads of the crowd. She was a stern looking witch who wore her hair in a tight bun; her sharp eyes were framed with square spectacles. Harry fought his way over to her with a feeling of foreboding: Professor McGonagall had a way of making him feel he must have done something wrong. 
“There's no need to look so worried — I just want a word in my office,” she told them. “Move along there, Weasley.” 
Ron stared as Professor McGonagall ushered Harry and Hermione away from the chattering crowd; they accompanied her across the entrance hall, up the marble staircase, and along a corridor. 
Once they were in her office, a small room with a large, welcoming fire, Professor McGonagall motioned Harry and Hermione to sit down. She settled herself behind her desk and said abruptly, “Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you were taken ill on the train, Potter.” 
Before Harry could reply, there was a soft knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, came bustling in. 
Harry felt himself going red in the face. It was bad enough that he'd passed out, or whatever he had done, without everyone making all this fuss. 
“I'm fine,” he said, “I don't need anything —” 
“Oh, it's you, is it?” said Madam Pomfrey, ignoring this and bending down to stare closely at him. “I suppose you've been doing something dangerous again?” 
“It was a Dementor, Poppy,” said Professor McGonagall. 
They exchanged a dark look, and Madam Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly. 
“Setting Dementors around a school, she muttered, pushing back Harry's hair and feeling his forehead. “He won't be the last one who collapses. Yes, he's all clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate —” 
“I'm not delicate!” said Harry crossly. 
“Of course you're not,” said Madam Pomfrey absentmindedly, now taking his pulse. 
“What does he need?” said Professor McGonagall crisply. “Bed rest? Should he perhaps spend tonight in the hospital wing?” 
“I'm fine!” said Harry, jumping up. The thought of what Draco Malfoy would say if he had to go to the hospital wing was torture. 
“Well, he should have some chocolate, at the very least,” said Madam Pomfrey, who was now trying to peer into Harry's eyes. 
“I've already had some,” said Harry. “Professor Lupin gave me some. He gave it to all of us.” 
“Did he, now?” said Madam Pomfrey approvingly. “So we've finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?” 
“Are you sure you feel all right, Potter?” Professor McGonagall said sharply. 
“Yes,” said Harry. 
“Very well. Kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Granger about her course schedule, then we can go down to the feast together.” 
Harry went back into the corridor with Madam Pomfrey, who left for the hospital wing, muttering to herself. He had to wait only a few minutes; then Hermione emerged looking very happy about something, followed by Professor McGonagall, and the three of them made their way back down the marble staircase to the Great Hall. 
It was a sea of pointed black hats; each of the long House tables was lined with students, their faces glimmering by the light of thousands of candles, which were floating over the tables in midair. Professor Flitwick, who was a tiny little wizard with a shock of white hair, was carrying an ancient hat and a three-legged stool out of the hall. 
“Oh,” said Hermione softly, “we've missed the Sorting!” 
New students at Hogwarts were sorted into Houses by trying on the Sorting Hat, which shouted out the House they were best suited to (Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin). Professor McGonagall strode off toward her empty seat at the staff table, and Harry and Hermione set off in the other direction, as quietly as possible, toward the Gryffindor table. People looked around at them as they passed along the back of the hall, and a few of them pointed at Harry. Had the story of his collapsing in front of the Dementor traveled that fast? 
He and Hermione sat down on either side of Ron, who had saved them seats. 
“What was all that about?” he muttered to Harry. 
Harry started to explain in a whisper, but at that moment the headmaster stood up to speak, and he broke off. 
Professor Dumbledore, though very old, always gave an impression of great energy. He had several feet of long silver hair and beard, half-moon spectacles, and an extremely crooked nose. He was often described as the greatest wizard of the age, but that wasn't why Harry respected him. You couldn't help trusting Albus Dumbledore, and as Harry watched him beaming around at the students, he felt really calm for the first time since the Dementor had entered the train compartment. 
“Welcome!” said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast…” 
Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, “As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business.” 
He paused, and Harry remembered what Mr. Weasley had said about Dumbledore not being happy with the Dementors guarding the school. 
“They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds,” Dumbledore continued, “and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises — or even Invisibility Cloaks,” he added blandly, and Harry and Ron glanced at each other. “It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors,” he said. 
Percy, who was sitting a few seats down from Harry, puffed out his chest again and stared around impressively. Dumbledore paused again; he looked very seriously around the hall, and nobody moved or made a sound. 
“On a happier note,” he continued, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. 
“First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” 
There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with Professor Lupin clapped hard, Harry among them. Professor Lupin looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes. 
“Look at Snape!” Ron hissed in Harry's ear. 
Professor Snape, the Potions master, was staring along the staff table at Professor Lupin. It was common knowledge that Snape wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, but even Harry, who hated Snape, was startled at the expression twisting his thin, sallow face. it was beyond anger: it was loathing. Harry knew that expression only too well; it was the look Snape wore every time he set eyes on Harry. 
“As to our second new appointment,” Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away. “Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties.” 
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at one another, stunned. Then they joined in with the applause, which was tumultuous at the Gryffindor table in particular. Harry leaned forward to see Hagrid, who was ruby red in the face and staring down at his enormous hands, his wide grin hidden in the tangle of his black beard. 
“We should've known!” Ron roared, pounding the table. “Who else would have assigned us a biting book?” 
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the last to stop clapping, and as Professor Dumbledore started speaking again, they saw that Hagrid was wiping his eyes on the tablecloth. 
“Well, I think that's everything of importance,” said Dumbledore. “Let the feast begin!” 
The golden plates and goblets before them filled suddenly with food and drink. Harry, suddenly ravenous, helped himself to everything he could reach and began to eat. 
It was a delicious feast; the hall echoed with talk, laughter, and the clatter of knives and forks. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, were eager for it to finish so that they could talk to Hagrid. They knew how much being made a teacher would mean to him. Hagrid wasn't a fully qualified wizard; he had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year for a crime he had not committed. It had been Harry, Ron, and Hermione who had cleared Hagrid's name last year. 
At long last, when the last morsels of pumpkin tart had melted from the golden platters, Dumbledore gave the word that it was time for them all to go to bed, and they got their chance. 
“Congratulations, Hagrid!” Hermione squealed as they reached the teachers’ table. 
“All down ter you three,” said Hagrid, wiping his shining face on his napkin as he looked up at them. “Can’ believe it…great man, Dumbledore…came straight down to me hut after Professor Kettleburn said he'd had enough…It's what I always wanted…” 
Overcome with emotion, he buried his face in his napkin, and Professor McGonagall shooed them away. 
Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined the Gryffindors streaming up the marble staircase and, very tired now, along more corridors, up more and more stairs, to the hidden entrance to Gryffindor Tower, where a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress asked them, “Password?” 
“Coming through, coming through!” Percy called from behind the crowd. “The new password's Fortuna Major!” 
“Oh no,” said Neville Longbottom sadly. He always had trouble remembering the passwords. 
Through the portrait hole and across the common room, the girls and boys divided toward their separate staircases. Harry climbed the spiral stair with no thought in his head except how glad he was to be back. They reached their familiar, circular dormitory with its five four-poster beds, and Harry, looking around, felt he was home at last. 
第二天，哈利被汤姆叫醒，睁开眼睛就看到旁边放着一杯茶，汤姆正咧开几乎没有牙齿的嘴巴对着他微笑。哈利穿上衣服正准备哄海维回到笼子里面去，罗恩撞进他的房间，气冲冲地把汗衫拉到头上。 
　　“我们越早搭上火车越好。”他说，“最起码在霍格瓦彻就见不到伯希了。现在他又骂我把茶滴到他那照片上，你知道吗？”罗恩做了个鬼脸又说，“他的女朋友，她把脸藏在框架下，因为她的鼻子上生了水泡……” 
　　“我有些事情要告诉你，”哈利开始说，但他们被弗来德和乔治打断，他们来恭喜罗恩又惹伯希生气了。 
　　他们下楼去吃早餐，威斯里先生在皱着眉头读《先知日报》的头版。威斯里太太正在告诉荷米恩和金妮一种美容霜，她们三个都在吃吃地笑。 
　　“你刚才要说些什么呀？”罗恩坐下时问哈利。 
　　“迟一点再说吧。”哈利小声说，这时伯希进来了。 
　　离别时候很嘈杂，哈利没有机会跟罗恩和荷米恩说话。他们都忙着提着重重的皮箱在狭窄的楼梯走，然后把东西堆在例格歌注的门前。 
　　“好了，克路殊克。”荷米恩低声地对着柳枝篮子说，“到火车上我就会让你出来了。” 
　　“不行。”罗恩大声说，“我那可怜的斯卡伯斯怎么办？” 
　　他指指自己的胸前。鼓鼓的一块表明了斯卡伯斯给在他的口袋里。 
　　威斯里先生已在外面等着部长派来的车，这时他转过头来。 
　　“他们来了，‘”他说：“哈利，过来。” 
　　威斯里先生和哈利并肩走过人行道，走向前面那两辆黑色的旧款的小汽车。每辆车都由一个看上去很严厉的，穿着碧绿色的绒衣的男人驾驶。 
　　“哈利，你上车。”威斯里先生向拥挤的大街看了看说。 
　　哈利上了车走到后座，然后荷米恩、罗恩还有罗恩所讨厌的伯希也上车了。 
　　对比起哈利乘爵士巴士时，这去国王大道十字路口的路程显得平淡无奇，魔法部长的小汽车看上去再普通不过了。但这车能在狭窄的空隙中穿过，这一点维能姨丈的车是绝对做不到的。他们提早几分钟到达国王大道十字路口。部长的司机找来了推车，帮他们卸下皮箱后，威斯里先生脱下帽告别。他们的车在红灯前停止的长长的车队上面飞跃着离开了。 
　　威斯里先生在去车站的路上一直靠着哈利的肘部。 
　　“好了。”他看看他们说，“我们两个得上车。因为我们人多，我和哈利先上去了。” 
　　威斯里先生向九又四分之三站台的栏杆走去，推着哈利的推车，并且蛮有趣味地看着刚靠站的马格的125号火车。他意味深长地看看哈利，然后轻松地挨在栏杆上，哈利跟看他做。 
　　跟着。他们进了通向九交四分之三站台的小道，抬起头看着去霍格瓦彻的列车，深红色的蒸气引擎旁站满了送孩子上学的家长。 
　　伯希和金妮突然在哈利后面出现，他们在喘着气，很明显是跨过栏杆走过来的。 
　　“啊，那是帕妮路！”伯希说，他把头发整理一下，又兴奋起来，金妮的目光和哈利的相遇，然后他们都转身笑。伯希向那长着又长又卷的头发的女孩走过去。 
　　伯希挺起胸膛好让大家都看到他胸前的徽章。 
　　其它威斯里孩子和荷米恩也走过来，威斯里和哈利已经走到火车的尾端，经过拥挤的车厢，来到一个几乎没有人的车厢。他们把行李放上车，然后走出来跟威斯里夫妇说再见。 
　　威斯里太太吻了一下她的孩子，然后吻了一下荷米恩，最后是哈利。他有点难为情，但是很高兴。她还把他搂在怀里。 
　　“一定要小心，哈利知道吗？”她站直的时候说，她的眼睛特别明亮，然后打开她那特别大的袋子说，“我为你们做了三明治，给你，罗恩，不，没有牛肉的… 
　　…弗来德？弗来德在哪里？亲爱的，拿着……“ 
　　“哈利！”威斯里先生静静地说，“过来这里一会儿。” 
　　他头向着柱子那边走，哈利在后面跟着他，其他人则围着威斯里太太。 
　　“你在离开之前我有些事情要告诉你。‘城斯里先生用深沉的语调说。 
　　“没关系的，威斯里先生。”哈利说，“我已经知道了。” 
　　“你知道，你怎么可能知道？” 
　　“我——我昨天晚上听到你和威斯里太太的对话。我无意中偷听的。”哈利立即又说，“对不起！” 
　　“我不是要想让你那样得知的。”威斯里先生焦急地说。 
　　“不，老实说，不要紧，这样的话你就可以不违背对法治的承诺，而我又可以知道是什么事。” 
　　“哈利，你一定被吓慌了。” 
　　“我没有，”哈利真诚地说，“真的。”威斯里先生好像不太相信他。“我没想过装英雄，但老实说，西里斯。巴拉克没有福尔得摩待那样厉害，是吗？” 
　　威斯里先生听到那名字打了个冷颤，但他又镇定下来。 
　　“哈利，我知道你不怕，嗯，法治他们都想，嗯，并且我当然很高兴你不害怕，但是——” 
　　“亚瑟！‘城斯里太太喊，她现在正带领着孩子上火车。”亚瑟，你在那儿干什么？车快要开了！“”来了，摩莉！“威斯里先生说，但他又转过去继续细声急速跟哈利说，”听着，我要你跟我说——“ 
　　“我会听话，我会留在城堡里的。”哈利沮丧地说。 
　　“还不够，”威斯里先生从来没有这么严肃地看着哈利说，“哈利，你发誓你不会去找巴拉克。” 
　　哈利睁大眼睛说，“什么？” 
　　响亮的车笛声传来了，守卫人沿着火车走，把所有门都关上。 
　　“答应我，哈利。”威斯里先生更快速地说，“无论什么事情发生——” 
　　“我怎么会找一个想杀我的人呢？”哈利茫然地说。 
　　“不管听到什么，你向我发誓——” 
　　“亚瑟，快点！”威斯里太太喊。 
　　火车喷出浓烟，车开始动了。哈利向车厢门跑去，罗思打开门向后退好让他上去。 
　　他们向威斯里挥手直至火车转入一角，挡住他们的视线。 
　　“我要单独跟你们说。”哈利低声对罗恩和荷米恩说，车正在加速。 
　　“金妮，你走开。”罗恩说。 
　　“哦，好吧。”金妮生气地说，昂着头走开。 
　　哈利、罗恩和荷米恩走到走廊，想找一节空的车厢，但所有车厢都挤满了人，除了最后一节。 
　　这里只有一个人，一个男人坐在窗旁。这霍格瓦彻列车平时只用来载学生，从不搭乘成年人的，除了推小车卖饭的妇人。 
　　这陌生人穿着很蹩脚的巫师服，衣服有几处补丁。他看上去好像很累或者病了。 
　　虽然他看上去很年轻，但浅褐色的头发有点发灰的。 
　　“你看他是谁？”罗恩嘶嘶地说，他在距离窗口最远的凳子上坐了下来，关上门。 
　　“露平教授。”荷米恩立即低声说。 
　　“你怎么知道的？” 
　　“他的箱子写着。”荷米恩指着那人头顶的行李架说，那里有一个小小的，磨损的木箱，还有许多很好的带子。他的名字“露平教授”颜色有点剥落了，写在木箱的一角。 
　　“他是教什么的呢？”罗恩看着那教授的外表皱着眉头说。 
　　“很明显。”荷米恩低声说，“学校只剩一个空席，黑巫术防御老师。” 
　　哈利、罗恩和荷术思已经有过两位老师教防黑巫术。两个都教了一年，有谣言说这课程很倒霉。 
　　“嘿，我希望他现在振作起来。”罗恩怀疑地说，“他看上去像走投无路似的，不是吗？不管如何……”他转向哈利，“你准备告诉我们什么？” 
　　哈利把威斯里夫妇吵架还有威斯里先生刚刚的警告都说出来，当他说完时，罗恩惊呆了，而荷米恩用手捂着嘴巴。最后她低声说：“西里斯。巴拉克逃出来找你？ 
　　哦，哈刮……你一定要非常非常小心，别闯祸，哈利……“ 
　　“我不会找麻烦的。”哈利恼火地说，“是麻烦来找我。” 
　　“你得很厉害才能去找一个想要杀你的人。”罗恩颤抖着说。 
　　他们在谈论比哈利想象中更坏的事，罗恩和荷米恩看上去比他还要害怕巴拉克。 
　　“没有人知道他是怎么逃出阿兹克班的。”罗恩很不自然地说，“从来没有人能这样做的。他还是一个被严厉监管着呢……” 
　　“那是什么声音？”罗思突然说。 
　　一阵微弱的声音传来。他向车厢周围看看。 
　　“哈利是从你的皮箱传来的。”罗恩说着站起来，伸向行李架，一会儿后，他从哈刮的衣服箱里掏出那只史尼卡可。它在罗恩手心上飞速旋转。越来越显得有生气。 
　　“那是一只史尼卡可吗？”荷米恩有趣地站起来认真看着。 
　　“哦，提醒你，这个很便宜的。”罗恩说，“当我刚想把它绑在厄罗尔的脚送去给哈利时，它变得很兴奋。” 
　　“那是因为你做了不值得让人信任的事呀。”荷米恩精明干练地说。 
　　“不！嗯……我未经允许就用厄罗尔了，你知道，它飞不了那么长的路程的… 
　　…但如果不这样我怎样把礼物送给哈利呢？“ 
　　“把它放回皮箱里吧。”哈利提议。当他看到史尼卡可发出刺耳的声音时说，“要不，它会吵醒他的。” 
　　他向露平教授指了指。罗恩把史尼卡可塞回维能姨丈那又旧又吓人的袜于里面，声音没有了。他把皮箱的盖子合上。 
　　“我们到霍格马得的时候检查一下它。”罗恩说着坐下来，“在德维斯。班格斯他们卖这些，还有魔法器等东西，弗来德和乔治告诉我的。” 
　　“你知道很多关于霍格马得的事情吗？”荷米恩诚恳地问，“我看到书上说那是英国唯一全是魔法师住的地方……” 
　　“嗯，我想是的。”罗恩连忙说，“但那并不是我去的原因。我只想百看着甜鸭。” 
　　“那是什么？”荷米恩说。 
　　“那是糖果店。”罗思说，露出做梦似的笑容。“那里有各种各样的东西——胡椒粉，它们能让你的嘴巴冒烟；一个个很大的可可球，上面有很多草菌糕；有凝块的奶；有极好的糖棍，你可以在上课的时候吮……” 
　　“霍格马得是很有趣的地方是吗？”荷米恩继续追问，在《巫术历史遗址》上说那小酒店就是1612年小妖魔造反的总部，还有什拉克。 
　　刹克在英国里最常闹鬼的地方——“”那大大的冰冻果于露球在吃的时候会让你离开地面几寸，在空中浮起来的。“ 
　　罗恩说，他不理会荷米恩刚才所说的。 
　　何不恩看看哈利。 
　　“出校去霍格马得实在太好了。” 
　　“希望可以吧。”哈利沉沉地说，“你一定要告诉我那里的事。” 
　　“你这是什么意思？”罗恩问。 
　　“我不能去，杜斯利没有在同意书上签名，法治也不肯签……” 
　　罗恩看上去很恐惧。 
　　“你不能出来？但是——不行——麦康娜或其他人可能会允许你去——” 
　　哈利无奈地笑了笑，麦康娜教授是格林芬顿学院的院长，她很严格的。 
　　“或者我们可以叫弗来德和乔治，他们知道出城堡的秘密通道——” 
　　“罗恩！”荷米恩尖锐地说，“我认为哈利不应该偷偷地走出学校，现在巴拉克还没被抓起来。” 
　　“对了，我想麦康娜会那样说的，如果我问他的话。”哈利有点痛苦地说。 
　　“但是如果我们跟他一起的话。”罗恩鼓励他对荷米恩说，“巴拉克就不敢——” 
　　“哦，罗恩，别说废话。”荷米恩大声说。“巴拉克在拥挤的大街杀了很多人，你以为因为我们俩在，他就不敢袭击哈利了吗？” 
　　她说这话的时候伸手摸克路殊克篮子的带子。 
　　“不要让那东西出来！”罗恩说，但太迟了，克路殊克从篮子中轻轻跃出来，伸伸四肢，打个阿欠，跃到罗恩的膝盖上，罗恩的衣袋颤抖着，他生气地把克路殊克推走。 
　　“走开。” 
　　“罗恩，不要。”荷米恩生气地说。 
　　罗恩刚想顶撞地，这时露平教授动了动。他们都望着他。但他只是把头转过去，口微微张开，继续睡。 
　　霍格瓦彻列车平稳地向北面驶去，窗外的风景变得越来越模糊，因为头上的云越积越厚。车厢内的人前前后后地追逐着。克路殊克在那空凳子上坐下来。它扁扁的脸转向罗恩，它黄色的眼盯着罗恩的衣袋。 
　　一点钟，火车上有个肥胖的妇人推着食物车在车厢内走动。 
　　“你说我们是否弄醒他？”罗恩为难地向露平教授指了指。“他看上去需要吃点什么了。” 
　　荷米恩小心走近露平教授。 
　　“嗯，教授？”她说，“对不起，教授。” 
　　他动也不动。 
　　“亲爱的，不用担心。“那妇人给哈利一大块大蛋糕时说，”如果他醒来觉得饿，我就在前面司机那里。“”我想他睡着了。“罗恩低声说，当他看到那妇人关上车厢门时又说，”我的意思是——他还未死是吗？“ 
　　“不，不，他还在呼吸。”荷米恩低声说，说着接过哈利递给她的蛋糕。 
　　露平教授虽然不是很好的同伴，但他对他们是很有帮助的。中午时，天开始下雨，雨使窗外连绵起伏的山丘变得模糊了。他们又听到走廊传来脚步声，他们最不喜欢的人出现在门前：杰高。马尔夫，还有他的两个密友，克来伯和高尔跟在后面。 
　　马尔夫和哈利在第一次去霍格瓦彻路上——在火车上就成了敌人了。马尔夫有一张苍白的，尖尖的带有蔑视神色的脸，他住在史林德林学院内。他是史林德林快迪斯队的搜索者，哈利在格林芬顿队中也是搜索者。克来伯和高尔好像就只是听从马尔夫的命令，他们都是又高又大，克来伯高一点，头发像一个布丁兽，脖子很粗。 
　　高尔的头发很短、很硬，还有长长的大猩猩臂。 
　　“看看他们是谁。”马尔夫像平时一样懒懒地慢吞吞地说，“是波特和威斯里。” 
　　克来伯和高尔吃吃地笑。 
　　“威斯里，我听说你爸爸终于在今年夏天找到一点金子了，对吗？”马尔夫说，“你妈妈是否因太惊喜而死了？” 
　　罗恩迅速站起来把克路殊克的篮子扔在地板上，露平教授发出一阵鼻鼾声。 
　　“他是谁？”马尔夫问，他看到露平时不由自主地向后退了几步。 
　　“新老师。”哈利站起来说，好让他能制止罗恩和马尔夫，“你在说什么？” 
　　马尔夫眯着眼睛，他才不会那么笨的在老师面前动手打架。 
　　“我们走。”他愤恨地对克来伯和高尔说，然后他们就消失了。 
　　哈利和罗恩重新坐下来。罗恩按摩着他的手指关节。 
　　“我决定今年不再忍耐马尔夫的废话了。”他生气地说，“我的意思是，如果他再低毁我家人，我就抓着他的头，然后——” 
　　罗恩在空气中做了一个暴力的姿势。 
　　“罗恩，”荷米恩指着露平教授小声地说，“小心一点……” 
　　但是露平教授还在沉沉地睡。 
　　火车向北驶去，雨点更加稠密了，玻璃窗发出微微的灰色的光，光越来越暗了。 
　　直到走廊上的灯笼闪着，然后熄灭。火车轰隆地响，雨继续捶打着，风仍在怒吼。 
　　但是露平教授仍在睡。 
　　“我们肯定快到了。”罗恩说着。他向露平教授靠过去，看着完全黑暗的窗。 
　　他还没有说完，火车已经停下来了。 
　　“好极了。‘罗恩说着站起来，小心翼翼地从露平教授身边走过，还努力向外看，”我很饿了，我要好好吃一顿……“”我们不可能那么快就到。“荷米恩看看手表说。 
　　“但是我们怎么会停下来呢？” 
　　火车越来越慢了，因为火车的活塞的声音停下来，风和雨打在窗子上显得更响亮了。 
　　哈利距离门最近，站起来，向走廊看，整个车厢的人好奇地把头伸出窗外。 
　　火车颠簸一下便停下来了，远处砰砰的声音告诉他们行李从架上掉下来了。然后，还没有人预告，全部的电灯就熄灭了，他们陷入完全的黑暗中。 
　　“发生什么事了？”罗恩在哈利背后问。 
　　“唉！”荷米恩叹了口气，“罗恩，你踩在我脚上了。” 
　　哈利摸着路回到了他的座位上。 
　　“是我们的火车坏了？” 
　　“不知道。” 
　　外面传来爆炸的声音，哈利朦胧看到罗恩的轮廓，他把玻璃一角擦干净，从那儿向外看。 
　　“那里有东西在动。”罗思说，“我想他们向这边开过来了。” 
　　车厢门突然开了，有人很痛苦地倒在哈刮的脚上。 
　　“对不起，你知道发生什么事了吗？哦，对不起——” 
　　“你好，尼维尔。”哈利说着用手在黑暗中摸摸，然后拉着尼维尔的大衣把他拉起来。 
　　“哈利，是你吗？发生什么事了？” 
　　“不知道！坐下来——” 
　　又传来嘈杂的嘶嘶声和痛苦的喊声。 
　　“我准备去问司机发生什么事了？”是荷米恩的声音。哈利感觉到她人从旁边走过去。他听到门又开了，又是一阵阵痛苦的喊声。 
　　“你是谁？” 
　　“是金妮？” 
　　“是荷米恩吗？” 
　　“你右手怎么啦？” 
　　“你在干什么呀？” 
　　“我在找罗恩——” 
　　“进来坐下。” 
　　“不是这里，”哈利急忙说，“我在这里。” 
　　“哦！”尼维尔说。 
　　“静静！”突然响起一个沙哑的声音。 
　　看来露平教授终于醒了。哈利可以听到他那边的行动声。没有人说话了。 
　　突然响起一阵轻微爆炸的声音，接着颤抖的灯光照亮了车厢，露平教授拿着很多小火苗。它们照亮了他疲惫的脸，他的眼睛看起来很谨慎。 
　　“在原位置不要动。”他用沙哑的声音说，他慢慢站起来把火把放在他前面。 
　　露平刚想伸手开门的时候门就开了。 
　　站在门前，被露平手中的火把照亮的是一个够得着天花板高的人。脸被兜帽完全遮住了。哈利的视线向下移，他看到了最让他的胃收缩的东西，一只手从大衣突出来，那手发着光，发灰的的颜色、瘦瘦的、有疤痕，像是死了的东西在水里面腐烂…… 
　　这是在发亮的一刹那才看见的。大衣里的生物好像感觉到哈利的凝视，那手突然缩进一件黑色的物体中。 
　　帽里面的东西，也不知道是什么，长长地、慢慢地喘着气，好像要吸取一些什么而不是周围的空气一样。 
　　一阵强烈的寒意包围着他们，哈利觉得呼吸困难，那寒意从皮肤进入，到达他的胸口，再到达他的心脏…… 
　　哈利的视线模糊了，一阵像针刺的剧痛袭向他前额的疤痕，他的头痛得好像快要裂开似的，他在寒冷中挣扎，耳朵好像有水般沙沙地响，他好像被人往下拖，吼叫声更大了。 
　　然后从远处，他听到尖叫声，很可怕、很恐怖。求救的尖叫，他想去帮忙，不，那是谁，他尝试动动他的手臂，但不能……一团很浓的白雾在他身边，沿着身体旋转而上——“哈利！哈利！你没事吧？” 
　　有人在拍打他的脸。 
　　“怎——怎么了？” 
　　哈利睁开眼睛，上面有灯笼，地板在摇——霍格瓦彻列车又开始动了。灯都亮起来了。他好像滑出座位跌到地上。罗恩和荷米恩跪在他身旁，他们旁边是尼维尔和露平教授，他们看着他。哈利觉得很不舒服，当他伸手推推眼镜时，他感觉到脸上的冷汗。 
　　罗恩和荷米恩扶他回到座位。 
　　“你没事了吗？”罗恩紧张地问。 
　　“哦。”哈利急忙向门那边看，那戴着帽的动物不见了，“发生什么事？那东西在哪？谁尖叫？” 
　　“没有人尖叫。”罗恩说，他更紧张了。 
　　哈利看看明亮的车厢。金妮和尼维尔看着他那苍白的脸色。 
　　“但是我听到尖叫声——” 
　　一阵响亮的爆裂声几乎使他们跳起来。露平教授正在把六大块巧克力弄成一段段。 
　　“这里。”他对哈利说，递给他特别大的一块说，“吃吧。” 
　　哈利拿起巧克力，但没有吃。 
　　“那是什么东西？”他问露平。 
　　“一个魔怪，得蒙特。”露平教授说，他现在把巧克力分给大家，“是阿兹克班里的一只魔怪。” 
　　每个人都盯着他，露平教授弄皱空的巧克力包装纸放进口袋里。 
　　“吃吧，”他说，“它有效的，我要找司机说说，失陪……” 
　　他走过哈利身旁在走廊中消失。 
　　“你肯定没事了吗，哈利？”荷米恩焦急地看着哈利问。 
　　“我没有碰到它，发生什么事了？”哈利说着，从脸上擦下更多冷汗。 
　　“嗯—
Chapter 6 Talons And Tea Leaves
When Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the first thing they saw was Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. As they passed, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter. 
“Ignore him,” said Hermione, who was right behind Harry. “Just ignore him, it's not worth it…” 
“Hey, Potter!” shrieked Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl with a face like a pug. “Potter! The Dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooooo!” 
Harry dropped into a seat at the Gryffindor table, next to George Weasley. 
“New third-year course schedules,” said George, passing then, over. “What's up with you, Harry?” 
“Malfoy,” said Ron, sitting down on George's other side and glaring over at the Slytherin table. 
George looked up in time to see Malfoy pretending to faint with terror again. 
“That little git,” he said calmly. “He wasn't so cocky last night when the Dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?” 
“Nearly wet himself,” said Fred, with a contemptuous glance at Malfoy. 
“I wasn't too happy myself,” said George. “They're horrible things, those Dementors…” 
“Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?” said Fred. 
“You didn't pass out, though, did you?” said Harry in a low voice. 
“Forget it, Harry,” said George bracingly. “Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been, he came back all weak and shaking…They suck the happiness out of a place, Dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there.” 
“Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match,” said Fred. “Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?” 
The only time Harry and Malfoy had faced each other in a Quidditch match, Malfoy had definitely come off worse. Feeling slightly more cheerful, Harry helped himself to sausages and fried tomatoes. 
Hermione was examining her new schedule. 
“Ooh, good, we're starting some new subjects today,” she said happily. 
“Hermione,” said Ron, frowning as he looked over her shoulder, “they've messed up your timetable. Look — they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough time.” 
“I'll manage. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall.” 
“But look,” said Ron, laughing, “see this morning? Nine o'clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And —” Ron leaned closer to the timetable, disbelieving, “look — underneath that, Arithmancy, nine o'clock. I mean, I know you're good, Hermione, but no one's that good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?” 
“Don't be silly,” said Hermione shortly. “Of course I won't be in three classes at once.” 
“Well then —” 
“Pass the marmalade,” said Hermione. 
“But —” 
“Oh, Ron, what's it to you if my timetable's a bit full?” Hermione snapped. “I told you, I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall.” 
Just then, Hagrid entered the Great Hall. He was wearing his long moleskin overcoat and was absent-mindedly swinging a dead polecat from one enormous hand. 
“All righ'?” he said eagerly, pausing on his way to the staff table. “Yer in my firs’ ever lesson! Right after lunch! Bin up since five getting’ everthin’ ready…hope it's OK…me, a teacher…hones'ly…” 
He grinned broadly at them and headed off to the staff table, still swinging the polecat. 
“Wonder what he's been getting ready?” said Ron, a note of anxiety in his voice. 
The Hall was starting to empty as people headed off towards their first lesson. Ron checked his schedule. 
“We'd better go, look, Divination's at the top of North Tower. It'll take us ten minutes to get there…” 
They finished breakfast hastily, said goodbye to Fred and George and walked back through the hall. As they passed the Slytherin table, Malfoy did yet another impression of a fainting fit. The shouts of laughter followed Harry into the Entrance Hall. 
The journey through the castle to North Tower was a long one. Two years at Hogwarts hadn't taught them everything about the castle, and they had never been inside North Tower before. 
“There's — got — to — be — a — short — cut,” Ron panted, as they climbed the seventh long staircase and emerged on an unfamiliar landing, where there was nothing but a large painting of a bare stretch of grass hanging on the stone wall. 
“I think it's this way,” said Hermione, peering down the empty passage to the right. 
“Can't be,” said Ron. “That's south. Look, you can see a bit of the lake outside the window…” 
Harry was watching the painting. A fat, dappled-gray pony had just ambled onto the grass and was grazing nonchalantly. Harry was used to the subjects of Hogwarts paintings moving around and leaving their frames to visit each other, but he always enjoyed watching them. A moment later, a short, squat knight in a suit of armour had clanked into the picture after his pony. By the look of the grass stains on his metal knees, he had just fallen off. 
“Aha!” he yelled, seeing Harry, Ron and Hermione. “What villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!” 
They watched in astonishment as the little knight tugged his sword out of its scabbard and began brandishing it violently, hopping up and down in rage. But the sword was too long for him; a particularly wild swing made him overbalance, and he landed facedown in the grass. 
“Are you all right?” said Harry, moving closer to the picture. 
“Get back, you scurvy braggart! Back, you rogue!” 
The knight seized his sword again and used it to push himself back up, but the blade sank deeply into the grass and, though he pulled with all his might, he couldn't get it out again. Finally, he had to flop back down onto the grass and push up his visor to mop his sweating face. 
“Listen,” said Harry, taking advantage of the knight's exhaustion, “we're looking for the North Tower. You don't know the way, do you?” 
“A quest!” The knight's rage seemed to vanish instantly. He clanked to his feet and shouted, “Come follow me, dear friends, and we shall find our goal, or else shall perish bravely in the charge!” 
He gave the sword another fruitless tug, tried and failed to mount the fat pony, gave up, and cried, “On foot then, good sirs and gentle lady! On! On!” 
And he ran, clanking loudly, into the left side of the frame and out of sight. 
They hurried after him along the corridor, following the sound of his armor. Every now and then they spotted him running through a picture ahead. 
“Be of stout heart, the worst is yet to come!” yelled the knight, and they saw him reappear in front of an alarmed group of women in crinolines, whose picture hung on the wall of a narrow spiral staircase. 
Puffing loudly, Harry, Ron, and Hermione climbed the tightly spiraling steps, getting dizzier and dizzier, until at last they heard the murmur of voices above them and knew they had reached the classroom. 
“Farewell!” cried the knight, popping his head into a painting of some sinister-looking monks. “Farewell, my comrades-in-arms! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!” 
“Yeah, we'll call you,” muttered Ron as the knight disappeared, “if we ever need someone mental.” 
They climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing, where most of the class was already assembled. There were no doors off this landing, but Ron nudged Harry and pointed at the ceiling, where there was a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it. 
“‘Sibyll Trelawney, Divination teacher,'” Harry read. “How're we supposed to get up there?” 
As though in answer to his question, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at Harry's feet. Everyone got quiet. 
“After you,” said Ron, grinning, so Harry climbed the ladder first. 
He emerged into the strangest-looking classroom he had ever seen. In fact, it didn't look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone's attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle. The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups. 
Ron appeared at Harry's shoulder as the class assembled around them, all talking in whispers. 
“Where is she?” Ron said. 
A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice. 
“Welcome,” it said. “How nice to see you in the physical world at last.” 
Harry's immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect. Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings. 
“Sit, my children, sit,” she said, and they all climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank onto poufs. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat themselves around the same round table. 
“Welcome to Divination,” said Professor Trelawney, who had seated herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire. “My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye.” 
Nobody said anything to this extraordinary pronouncement. Professor Trelawney delicately rearranged her shawl and continued, “So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you…Books can take you only so far in this field…” 
At these words, both Harry and Ron glanced, grinning, at Hermione, who looked startled at the news that books wouldn't be much help in this subject. 
“Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future,” Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous face. “It is a Gift granted to few. You, boy,” she said suddenly to Neville, who almost toppled off his pouf. “Is your grandmother well?” 
“I think so,” said Neville tremulously. 
“I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, dear,” said Professor Trelawney, the firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings. Neville gulped. Professor Trelawney continued placidly. “We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear,” she shot suddenly at Parvati Patil, “beware a red-haired man.” 
Parvati gave a startled look at Ron, who was right behind her and edged her chair away from him. 
“In the second term,” Professor Trelawney went on, “we shall progress to the crystal ball — if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us for ever.” 
A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of it. 
“I wonder, dear,” she said to Lavender Brown, who was nearest and shrank back in her chair, “if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?” 
Lavender, looking relieved, stood up, took an enormous teapot from the shelf, and put it down on the table in front of Professor Trelawney. 
“Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading — it will happen on Friday the sixteenth of October.” 
Lavender trembled. 
“Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of Unfogging the Future. I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear,” — she caught Neville by the arm as he made to stand up, “after you've broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink.” 
Sure enough, Neville had no sooner reached the shelf of teacups when there was a tinkle of breaking china. Professor Trelawney swept over to him holding a dustpan and brush and said, “One of the blue ones, then, dear, if you wouldn't mind…thank you…” 
When Harry and Ron had had their teacups filled, they went back to their table and tried to drink the scalding tea quickly. They swilled the dregs around as Professor Trelawney had instructed, then drained the cups and swapped over. 
“Right,” said Ron as they both opened their books at pages five and six. “What can you see in mine?” 
“A load of soggy brown stuff,” said Harry. The heavily perfumed smoke in the room was making him feel sleepy and stupid. 
“Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!” Professor Trelawney cried through the gloom. 
Harry tried to pull himself together. 
“Right, you've got a crooked sort of cross…” He consulted Unfogging the Future. “That means you're going to have ‘trials and suffering’ — sorry about that — but there's a thing that could be the sun. Hang on…that means ‘great happiness'…so you're going to suffer but be very happy…” 
“You need your Inner Eye tested, if you ask me,” said Ron, and they both had to stifle their laughs as Professor Trelawney gazed in their direction. 
“My turn…” Ron peered into Harry's teacup, his forehead wrinkled with effort. “There's a blob a bit like a bowler hat,” he said. “Maybe you're going to work for the Ministry of Magic…” 
He turned the teacup the other way up. 
“But this way it looks more like an acorn…what's that?” He scanned his copy of Unfogging the Future. “‘A windfall, unexpected gold.’ Excellent, you can lend me some. And there's a thing here,” he turned the cup again, “that looks like an animal…yeah, if that was its head…it looks like a hippo…no, a sheep…” 
Professor Trelawney whirled around as Harry let out a snort of laughter. 
“Let me see that, my dear,” she said reprovingly to Ron, sweeping over and snatching Harry's cup from him. Everyone went quiet to watch. 
Professor Trelawney was staring into the teacup, rotating it counterclockwise. 
“The falcon…my dear, you have a deadly enemy.” 
“But everyone knows that,” said Hermione in a loud whisper. Professor Trelawney stared at her. 
“Well, they do,” said Hermione. “Everybody knows about Harry and You-Know-Who.” 
Harry and Ron stared at her with a mixture of amazement and admiration. They had never heard Hermione speak to a teacher like that before. Professor Trelawney chose not to reply. She lowered her huge eyes to Harry's cup again and continued to turn it. 
“The club…an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup…” 
“I thought that was a bowler hat,” said Ron sheepishly. 
“The skull…danger in your path, my dear…” 
Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who gave the cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed. 
There was another tinkle of breaking china; Neville had smashed his second cup. Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed. 
“My dear boy — my poor dear boy — no — it is kinder not to say — no — don't ask me.…” 
“What is it, Professor?” said Dean Thomas at once. Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around Harry and Ron's table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney's chair to get a good look at Harry's cup. 
“My dear,” Professor Trelawney's huge eyes opened dramatically, “you have the Grim.” 
“The what?” said Harry. 
He could tell that he wasn't the only one who didn't understand; Dean Thomas shrugged at him and Lavender Brown looked puzzled, but nearly everybody else clapped their hands to their mouths in horror. 
“The Grim, my dear, the Grim!” cried Professor Trelawney, who looked shocked that Harry hadn't understood. “The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen — the worst omen — of death!” 
Harry's stomach lurched. That dog on the cover of Death Omens in Flourish and Blotts — the dog in the shadows of Magnolia Crescent…Lavender Brown clapped her hands to her mouth too. Everyone was looking at Harry, everyone except Hermione, who had gotten up and moved around to the back of Professor Trelawney's chair. 
“I don't think it looks like a Grim,” she said flatly. 
Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermione with mounting dislike. 
“You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future.” 
Seamus Finnigan was tilting his head from side to side. 
“It looks like a Grim if you do this,” he said, with his eyes almost shut, “but it looks more like a donkey from here,” he said, leaning to the left. 
“When you've all finished deciding whether I'm going to die or not!” said Harry, taking even himself by surprise. Now nobody seemed to want to look at him. 
“I think we will leave the lesson here for today,” said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest voice. “Yes…please pack away your things…” 
Silently the class took their teacups back to Professor Trelawney, packed away their books, and closed their bags. Even Ron was avoiding Harry's eyes. 
“Until we meet again,” said Professor Trelawney faintly, “fair fortune be yours. Oh, and dear,” — she pointed at Neville, “you'll be late next time, so mind you work extra-hard to catch up.” 
Harry, Ron, and Hermione descended Professor Trelawney's ladder and the winding stair in silence, then set off for Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson. It took them so long to find her classroom that, early as they had left Divination, they were only just in time. 
Harry chose a seat right at the back of the room, feeling as though he were sitting in a very bright spotlight; the rest of the class kept shooting furtive glances at him, as though he were about to drop dead at any moment. He hardly heard what Professor McGonagall was telling them about Animagi (wizards who could transform at will into animals), and wasn't even watching when she transformed herself in front of their eyes into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes. 
“Really, what has got into you all today?” said Professor McGonagall, turning back into herself with a faint pop, and staring around at them all. “Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not got applause from a class.” 
Everybody's heads turned toward Harry again, but nobody spoke. Then Hermione raised her hand. 
“Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we were reading the tea leaves, and —” 
“Ah, of course,” said Professor McGonagall, suddenly frowning. “There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?” 
Everyone stared at her. 
“Me,” said Harry, finally. 
“I see,” said Professor McGonagall, fixing Harry with her beady eyes. “Then you should know, Potter, that Sibyll Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues —” Professor McGonagall broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone white. She went on, more calmly, “Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney…” 
She stopped again, and then said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, “You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don't let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in.” 
Hermione laughed. Harry felt a bit better. It was harder to feel scared of a lump of tea leaves away from the dim red light and befuddling perfume of Professor Trelawney's classroom. Not everyone was convinced, however. Ron still looked worried, and Lavender whispered, “But what about Neville's cup?” 
When the Transfiguration class had finished, they joined the crowd thundering toward the Great Hall for lunch. 
“Ron, cheer up,” said Hermione, pushing a dish of stew toward him. “You heard what Professor McGonagall said.” 
Ron spooned stew onto his plate and picked up his fork but didn't start. 
“Harry,” he said, in a low, serious voice, “You haven't seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?” 
“Yeah, I have,” said Harry. “I saw one the night I left the Dursleys'.” 
Ron let his fork fall with a clatter. 
“Probably a stray,” said Hermione calmly. 
Ron looked at Hermione as though she had gone mad. 
“Hermione, if Harry's seen a Grim, that's — that's bad,” he said. “My — my uncle Bilius saw one and — and he died twenty-four hours later!” 
“Coincidence,” said Hermione airily, pouring herself some pumpkin juice. 
“You don't know what you're talking about!” said Ron, starting to get angry. “Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!” 
“There you are, then,” said Hermione in a superior tone. “They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Harry's still with us because he's not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, I'd better kick the bucket then!” 
Ron mouthed wordlessly at Hermione, who opened her bag, took out her new Arithmancy book, and propped it open against the juice jug. 
“I think Divination seems very woolly,” she said, searching for her page. “A lot of guesswork, if you ask me.” 
“There was nothing woolly about the Grim in that cup!” said Ron hotly. 
“You didn't seem quite so confident when you were telling Harry it was a sheep,” said Hermione coolly. 
“Professor Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura! You just don't like being bad at something for a change!” 
He had touched a nerve. Hermione slammed her Arithmancy book down on the table so hard that bits of meat and carrot flew everywhere. 
“If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I'm not sure I'll be studying it much longer! That lesson was absolute rubbish compared with my Arithmancy class!” 
She snatched up her bag and stalked away. 
Ron frowned after her. 
“What's she talking about?” he said to Harry. “She hasn't been to an Arithmancy class yet.” 
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　* 
Harry was pleased to get out of the castle after lunch. Yesterday's rain had cleared; the sky was a clear, pale gray, and the grass was springy and damp underfoot as they set off for their first ever Care of Magical Creatures class. 
Ron and Hermione weren't speaking to each other. Harry walked beside them in silence as they went down the sloping lawns to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was only when he spotted three only-too-familiar backs ahead of them that he realized they must be having these lessons with the Slytherins. Malfoy was talking animatedly to Crabbe and Goyle, who were chortling. Harry was quite sure he knew what they were talking about. 
Hagrid was waiting for his class at the door of his hut. He stood in his moleskin overcoat, with Fang the boarhound at his heels, looking impatient to start. 
“C'mon, now, get a move on!” he called as the class approached. “Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin’ up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!” 
For one nasty moment, Harry thought that Hagrid was going to lead them into the forest; Harry had had enough unpleasant experiences in there to last him a lifetime. However, Hagrid strolled off around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, they found themselves outside a kind of paddock. There was nothing in there. 
“Everyone gather ‘round the fence here!” he called. “That's it — make sure yeh can see — now, firs’ thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books —” 
“How?” said the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy. 
“Eh?” said Hagrid. 
“How do we open our books?” Malfoy repeated. He took out his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters, which he had bound shut with a length of rope. Other people took theirs out too; some, like Harry, had belted their book shut; others had crammed them inside tight bags or clamped them together with binder clips. 
“Hasn’ — hasn’ anyone bin able ter open their books?” said Hagrid, looking crestfallen. 
The class all shook their heads. 
“Yeh've got ter stroke ‘em,” said Hagrid, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. “Look —” 
He took Hermione's copy and ripped off the Spellotape that bound it. The book tried to bite, but Hagrid ran a giant forefinger down its spine, and the book shivered, and then fell open and lay quiet in his hand. 
“Oh, how silly we've all been!” Malfoy sneered. “We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess!” 
“I — I thought they were funny,” Hagrid said uncertainly to Hermione. 
“Oh, tremendously funny!” said Malfoy. “Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!” 
“Shut up, Malfoy,” said Harry quietly. Hagrid was looking downcast and Harry wanted Hagrid's first lesson to be a success. 
“Righ’ then,” said Hagrid, who seemed to have lost his thread, “so — so yeh've got yer books an'…an'…now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I'll go an’ get ‘em. Hang on…” 
He strode away from them into the forest and out of sight. 
“God, this place is going to the dogs,” said Malfoy loudly. “That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him —” 
“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry repeated. 
“Careful, Potter, there's a Dementor behind you —” 
“Oooooooh!” squealed Lavender Brown, pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock. 
Trotting toward them were a dozen of the most bizarre creatures Harry had ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with cruel, steel-colored beaks and large, brilliantly, orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of these were held in the vast hands of Hagrid, who came jogging into the paddock behind the creatures. 
“Gee up, there!” he roared, shaking the chains and urging the creatures toward the fence where the class stood. Everyone drew back slightly as Hagrid reached them and tethered the creatures to the fence. 
“Hippogriffs!” Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. “Beau'iful, aren’ they?” 
Harry could sort of see what Hagrid meant. Once you got over the first shock of seeing something that was half horse, half bird, you started to appreciate the Hippogriffs’ gleaming coats, changing smoothly from feather to hair, each of them a different color: stormy gray, bronze, pinkish roan, gleaming chestnut, and inky black. 
“So,” said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, “if yeh wan’ ter come a bit nearer…” 
No one seemed to want to. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, approached the fence cautiously. 
“Now, firs’ thing yeh gotta know abou’ Hippogriffs is, they're proud,” said Hagrid. “Easily offended, Hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, ‘cause it might be the last thing yeh do.” 
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle weren't listening; they were talking in an undertone and Harry had a nasty feeling they were plotting how best to disrupt the lesson. 
“Yeh always wait fer the Hippogriff ter make the firs’ move,” Hagrid continued. “It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an’ yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn’ bow, then get away from him sharpish, ‘cause those talons hurt.” 
“Right — who wants ter go first?” 
Most of the class backed farther away in answer. Even Harry, Ron, and Hermione had misgivings. The Hippogriffs were tossing their fierce heads and flexing their powerful wings; they didn't seem to like being tethered like this. 
“No one?” said Hagrid, with a pleading look. 
“I'll do it,” said Harry. 
There was an intake of breath from behind him, and both Lavender and Parvati whispered, “Oooh, no, Harry, remember your tea leaves!” 
Harry ignored them. He climbed over the paddock fence. 
“Good man, Harry!” roared Hagrid. “Right then — let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak.” 
He untied one of the chains, pulled the gray Hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar. The class on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding its breath. Malfoy's eyes were narrowed maliciously. 
“Easy now, Harry,” said Hagrid quietly. “Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink…Hippogriffs don’ trust yeh if yeh blink too much…” 
Harry's eyes immediately began to water, but he didn't shut them. Buckbeak had turned his great, sharp head and was staring at Harry with one fierce orange eye. “Tha's it,” said Hagrid. “Tha's it, Harry…now, bow.” 
Harry didn't feel much like exposing the back of his neck to Buckbeak, but he did as he was told. He gave a short bow and then looked up. 
The Hippogriff was still staring haughtily at him. It didn't move. 
“Ah,” said Hagrid, sounding worried. “Right — back away, now, Harry, easy does it —” 
But then, to Harry's enormous surprise, the Hippogriff suddenly bent its scaly front knees and sank into what was
an unmistakable bow. 
“Well done, Harry!” said Hagrid, ecstatic. “Right — yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!” 
Feeling that a better reward would have been to back away, Harry moved slowly toward the Hippogriff and reached out toward it. He patted the beak several times and the Hippogriff closed its eyes lazily, as though enjoying it. 
The class broke into applause, all except for Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were looking deeply disappointed. 
“Righ’ then, Harry,” said Hagrid. “I reckon he migh’ let yeh ride him!” 
This was more than Harry had bargained for. He was used to a broomstick; but he wasn't sure a Hippogriff would be quite the same. 
“Yeh climb up there, jus’ behind the wing joint,” said Hagrid, “an’ mind yeh don’ pull any of his feathers out, he won’ like that…” 
Harry put his foot on the top of Buckbeak's wing and hoisted himself onto its back. Buckbeak stood up. Harry wasn't sure where to hold on; everything in front of him was covered with feathers. 
“Go on, then!” roared Hagrid, slapping the Hippogriffs hindquarters. 
Without warning, twelve-foot wings flapped open on either side of Harry, he just had time to seize the Hippogriff around the neck before he was soaring upward. It was nothing like a broomstick, and Harry knew which one he preferred; the Hippogriff's wings beat uncomfortably on either side of him, catching him under his legs and making him feel he was about to be thrown off; the glossy feathers slipped under his fingers and he didn't dare get a stronger grip; instead of the smooth action of his Nimbus Two Thousand, he now felt himself rocking backward and forward as the hindquarters of the Hippogriff rose and fell with its wings. 
Buckbeak flew him once around the paddock and then headed back to the ground; this was the bit Harry had been dreading; he leaned back as the smooth neck lowered, feeling he was going to slip off over the beak, then felt a heavy thud as the four ill-assorted feet hit the ground. He just managed to hold on and push himself straight again. 
“Good work, Harry!” roared Hagrid as everyone except Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle cheered. “Okay, who else wants a go?” 
Emboldened by Harry's success, the rest of the class climbed cautiously into the paddock. Hagrid untied the Hippogriffs one by one, and soon people were bowing nervously, all over the paddock. Neville ran repeatedly backward from his, which didn't seem to want to bend its knees. Ron and Hermione practiced on the chestnut, while Harry watched. 
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken over Buckbeak. He had bowed to Malfoy, who was now patting his beak, looking disdainful. 
“This is very easy,” Malfoy drawled, loud enough for Harry to, hear him. “I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it…I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?” he said to the Hippogriff. “Are you, you great ugly brute?” 
It happened in a flash of steely talons; Malfoy let out a high pitched scream and next moment, Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he strained to get at Malfoy, who lay curled in the grass, blood blossoming over his robes. 
“I'm dying!” Malfoy yelled as the class panicked. “I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!” 
“Yer not dyin'!” said Hagrid, who had gone very white. “Someone help me — gotta get him outta here —” 
Hermione ran to hold open the gate as Hagrid lifted Malfoy easily. As they passed, Harry saw that there was a long, deep gash on Malfoy's arm; blood splattered the grass and Hagrid ran with him, up the slope toward the castle. 
Very shaken, the Care of Magical Creatures class followed at a walk. The Slytherins were all shouting about Hagrid. 
“They should sack him straight away!” said Pansy Parkinson, who was in tears. 
“It was Malfoy's fault!” snapped Dean Thomas. Crabbe and Goyle flexed their muscles threateningly. 
They all climbed the stone steps into the deserted entrance hall. 
“I'm going to see if he's okay!” said Pansy, and they all watched her run up the marble staircase. The Slytherins, still muttering about Hagrid, headed away in the direction of their dungeon common room; Harry, Ron, and Hermione proceeded upstairs to Gryffindor Tower. 
“You think he'll be all right?” said Hermione nervously. 
“Course he will. Madam Pomfrey can mend cuts in about a second,” said Harry, who had had far worse injuries mended magically by the nurse. 
“That was a really bad thing to happen in Hagrid's first class, though, wasn't it?” said Ron, looking worried. “Trust Malfoy to mess things up for him…” 
They were among the first to reach the Great Hall at dinnertime, hoping to see Hagrid, but he wasn't there. 
“They wouldn't fire him, would they?” said Hermione anxiously, not touching her steak-and-kidney pudding. 
“They'd better not,” said Ron, who wasn't eating either. 
Harry was watching the Slytherin table. A large group including Crabbe and Goyle was huddled together, deep in conversation. Harry was sure they were cooking up their own version of how Malfoy had been injured. 
“Well, you can't say it wasn't an interesting first day back,” said Ron gloomily. 
They went up to the crowded Gryffindor common room after dinner and tried to do the homework Professor McGonagall had given them, but all three of them kept breaking off and glancing out of the tower window. 
“There's a light on in Hagrid's window,” Harry said suddenly. 
Ron looked at his watch. 
“If we hurried, we could go down and see him. It's still quite early…” 
“I don't know,” Hermione said slowly, and Harry saw her glance at him. 
“I'm allowed to walk across the grounds,” he said pointedly. “Sirius Black hasn't got past the Dementors yet, has he?” 
So they put their things away and headed out of the portrait hole, glad to meet nobody on their way to the front doors, as they weren't entirely sure they were supposed to be out. 
The grass was still wet and looked almost black in the twilight. When they reached Hagrid's hut, they knocked, and a voice growled, “C'min.” 
Hagrid was sitting in his shirtsleeves at his scrubbed wooden table; his boarhound, Fang, had his head in Hagrid's lap. One look told them that Hagrid had been drinking a lot; there was a pewter tankard almost as big as a bucket in front of him, and he seemed to be having difficulty getting them into focus. 
“‘Spect it's a record,” he said thickly, when he recognized them. “Don’ reckon they've ever had a teacher who lasted on'y a day before.” 
“You haven't been fired, Hagrid!” gasped Hermione. 
“Not yet,” said Hagrid miserably, taking a huge gulp of whatever was in the tankard. “But's only a matter o’ time, I'n't, after Malfoy…” 
“How is he?” said Ron as they all sat down. “It wasn't serious, was it?” 
“Madam Pomfrey fixed him best she could,” said Hagrid dully, “but he's sayin’ it's still agony…covered in bandages…moanin'…” 
“He's faking it,” said Harry at once. “Madam Pomfrey can mend anything. She regrew half my bones last year. Trust Malfoy to milk it for all it's worth.” 
“School gov'nors have bin told, o’ course,” said Hagrid miserably. “They reckon I started too big. Shoulda left Hippogriffs fer later…one flobberworms or summat…Jus’ thought it'd make a good firs’ lesson's all my fault…” 
“It's all Malfoy's fault, Hagrid!” said Hermione earnestly. 
“We're witnesses,” said Harry. “You said Hippogriffs attack if you insult them. It's Malfoy's problem that he wasn't listening. We'll tell Dumbledore what really happened.” 
“Yeah, don't worry, Hagrid, we'll back you up,” said Ron. 
Tears leaked out of the crinkled corners of Hagrid's beetle-black eyes. He grabbed both Harry and Ron and pulled them into a bone-breaking hug. 
“I think you've had enough to drink, Hagrid,” said Hermione firmly. She took the tankard from the table and went outside to empty it. 
“Ah, maybe she's right,” said Hagrid, letting go of Harry and Ron, who both staggered away, rubbing their ribs. Hagrid heaved himself out of his chair and followed Hermione unsteadily outside. They heard a loud splash. 
“What's he done?” said Harry nervously as Hermione came back in with the empty tankard. 
“Stuck his head in the water barrel,” said Hermione, putting the tankard away. 
Hagrid came back, his long hair and beard sopping wet, wiping the water out of his eyes. 
“That's better,” he said, shaking his head like a dog and drenching them all. “Listen, it was good of yeh ter come an’ see me, I really —” 
Hagrid stopped dead, staring at Harry as though he'd only just realized he was there. 
“WHAT D'YEH THINK YOU'RE DOIN', EH?” he roared, so suddenly that they jumped a foot in the air. “YEH'RE NOT TO GO WANDERIN’ AROUND AFTER DARK, HARRY! AN, YOU TWO! LETTIN’ HIM!” 
Hagrid strode over to Harry, grabbed his arm, and pulled him to the door. 
“C'mon!” Hagrid said angrily. “I'm takin’ yer all back up ter school an’ don’ let me catch yeh walkin’ down ter see me after dark again. I'm not worth that!” 
当哈利、罗恩和荷米恩进入大厅吃早餐时，他们最先看见的是马尔夫，他好像在讲一个有趣的故事来逗着史林德林的一群学生。他们经过的时候，马尔夫荒谬地吐吐气，随着一阵大笑响起来。 
　　“不要管他。”荷米恩正站在哈利右边对他说，“不要管他，他不值得……” 
　　“喂，波特。”班茜。帕金森尖声叫了一声。她是史林德林的女生，有一张像哈巴狗的脸。“波特，得蒙特来了，波特，呜呜呜……” 
　　哈利在乔治旁的格林芬顿桌旁坐下来。 
　　“这是新的三年级时间表。”乔治递了张表过来说。“你怎么样了，哈利？” 
　　“是马尔夫。”罗恩坐在乔治的另一旁，瞪着史林德林那边的桌子说。 
　　乔治刚抬起头，看到马尔夫假装太恐慌而昏倒的姿势。 
　　“那个混蛋。”他冷静地说，“得蒙特往火车走过去的时候，他没有这么威武的。他还逃到我们那车厢来，弗来德，不是吗？” 
　　“他自己都差点昏倒了。”弗来德轻蔑地扫了马尔夫一眼说。 
　　“我自己也不好过，”乔治说，“他们的确很恐怖，那些得蒙特。” 
　　“好像要冰结你的内脏一样，是吗？”弗来德问。 
　　“但你没有昏倒是吗？”哈利低声问。 
　　“算了吧，哈利。”乔治清爽地说，“爸爸去过阿兹克班一次了，记得吗，弗来德？他说那是他这辈子去过的最恐怖的地方。他回来时一直地颤抖……得蒙特把人们的快乐都吸走了。那里大多数的罪犯都疯了。” 
　　“无论如何，我们看第一场快迪斯比赛后，马尔夫还高不高兴得起来。”弗来德说，“格林芬顿对史林德林，这季度的第一场比赛，记得吗？” 
　　哈利不得不面对马尔夫的唯一时刻是在快迪斯比赛中。马尔夫当然没他打得那么好。哈利觉得有点高兴了，他把香肠和炸香菇放到嘴里。 
　　荷米恩正在查她的时间表。 
　　“哦，太好了，我们今天开始学新科目了。”她高兴地说。 
　　“荷米恩，”罗恩穿过她肩膀时皱着眉头说，“他们已经打乱你的时间表了，看——他们一天给你安排十节课，你不够时间的。” 
　　“我会尽力做好的。我已经跟麦康娜教授商量好了。” 
　　“但是，看。”罗恩笑笑说，“看到今天早上了吗？九点，变形课。 
　　再看下面，九点，马格学，还有——“罗思向时间表靠得更近，不相信地说：“ 
　　看——下面那里，占卜术，九点钟，我说，你是厉害，但是没有人可以那样厉害的，你怎么可以在同一时间内上三节课呢？“ 
　　“别傻了。”荷米恩简短地说，“我当然不能同时上三节课。” 
　　“好了，那么——” 
　　“请帮我把果酱拿来。”荷米恩说。 
　　“但是——” 
　　“哦，罗恩，我的时间表满一点跟你有什么关系？”荷米恩不满地说，“我告诉你，我已经跟麦康娜商量好了。” 
　　这时候，哈格力进人大厅了。他穿着他那长长的斜纹棉布大衣，心不在焉地用手摇摆着一只死猫。 
　　“好吧？”他在向职工桌子走去的路上停了下来，热切地问，“这个下午我要上我的第一节课了。我五点就起来把东西准备好了，我希望做好一点，老实说…… 
　　做老师……“ 
　　他欢笑着向职工桌子那边走去，仍然摇摆着那臭猫。 
　　“我真不知道他准备了些什么。”罗恩说，声音中带着焦虑。 
　　人们开始去上第一节课时，大厅显得有点空。罗恩看看他的时间表。 
　　“我们最好走了，看，占卜术就在北塔上，走到那里要十分钟。” 
　　他们迅速把早点吃完，跟乔治和弗来德说再见并走出大厅。当他们经过史林德林桌子时，马尔夫又装出要昏倒的姿势。一阵大笑伴着哈利走进大堂。 
　　到北塔的路程很长，在霍格瓦彻呆了两年，他们还未完全熟识这城堡，他们也从未去过北塔。 
　　“一定要缩短路程。”罗恩喘着气说，这时他们转到了第七段楼梯，出现在一个陌生的楼梯口前。那里墙上只有一幅画着一望无际的草原的画。 
　　“我想是这条路了。”荷米恩说着，头向右转，看看那空的走廊。 
　　“不可能。”罗恩说，“那是南边，看从窗口可以看到河的一角……” 
　　哈利看那墙上的画。一只胖胖的有斑点的灰毛马在草原上漫步，眼睛漫无目的地看看周围。哈利看惯霍格瓦彻的画，主题都是四处移动，留下框架来互访别人的人物画。一会儿后，一个矮的骑士穿着一身盔甲铿锵地走出来去追赶那匹小马。但看他膝盖盔甲上的草污点，就可以知道他刚从马上摔下来。 
　　“哇！”他见到罗恩、哈利和荷米恩时大喊，“你们这家伙竟敢踏进我的私人地域？见到我摔倒就取笑？你们这帮流氓，这帮狗。滚！” 
　　他们看到这小骑士从剑鞘里拔出剑来，都吓呆了，他开始舞动那剑，发狂地跳上跳下。但是剑对他来说太长了，尤其风一吹他就失去平衡，便一头栽倒在草地上。 
　　“你没事吧？”哈利走近图画问。 
　　“滚开，你们这些可都是吹牛者！无赖，走！” 
　　那骑上又拿起剑，尽力站起来，但是剑端陷入草地里，他拔不出来。最后，他又笨重地倒在地上。他拿开面具来擦汗。 
　　“你听着。”哈利利用骑士筋疲力尽的时候，“我们在找北塔，我们不知道怎么去，你知道吗？” 
　　“那可是长征。”骑士的愤怒好像立即消失了。他的脚叮当一声站起来，然后大声说：“亲爱的朋友，跟我来吧，我们会到达目标的，要不就会勇敢地死去。” 
　　他又徒劳地挥动着剑，努力骑到那胖木马的背上，但失败了，他大声喊：“我们走吧，亲爱的先生女士们，我们出发了。” 
　　然后他铿钻响地走着，转入左手边的框架里，消失了。 
　　他们紧跟着他走进走廊，靠听着他盔甲的声音跟着，时不时地看到他在前面的画里面跑着。 
　　“勇敢一点，最困难的还未到。”那骑士大喊，他们又看见他出现在一群穿着带裙的女人前，她们的画就挂在狭窄楼梯的墙上。 
　　哈利大声地喘着气，荷米恩和罗恩紧紧地在盘旋阶梯上爬，觉得越来越头晕，直到他们听到上面有人说话的声音才知道他们到达课室了。 
　　“再会了。”那个骑士说着，把头撞过画着罪恶的和尚的画里面。 
　　“再会了，我的朋友，如果你们成为崇高的强健的精英就来找我卡得格爵士吧。” 
　　“好的，我们会找你的。”罗恩咕噜地说，看到那骑士消失时又说，“如果我们需要铁木头的话。” 
　　他们爬上最后几级，便出现在一个小楼梯口前，在那里大多数学生已经集中了。 
　　这楼梯平台没有门的，罗恩用手肘推推哈利并指向那天花板，上面有一道门，门上有一块铜的扁牌。 
　　“特雷络尼，占卜术的老师。”哈利读出来，“我们怎样上去呢？” 
　　好像在回答哈利一样，那道门突然开了，一架银梯从长面伸到哈利的脚前。每个人都安静地上去。 
　　“我跟着你。”罗恩笑着说，因而哈利首先爬上那梯子。 
　　一个从没见过的奇怪的课室里出现了。实际上，这一点都不像教室。这更像人家的楼阁和旧式的茶店，最少有二十张小小的圆桌子拥挤地放在里面，桌旁都摆着小小的扶手椅子，椅子上有小小的厚圆椅垫，所有的东西都被阴暗的绯红的灯光笼罩住。窗口的窗帘都放了下来，很多台灯都用深红的围巾盖着。火苗在拥挤的壁炉架上高兴地跳动着。在往一个铜壶加热时，一种很浓、让人作呕的香水味散发出来。 
　　圆形的墙旁边的栏杆挂满了羽毛，蜡烛的残根，很多包装的破布，数不清的晶莹球，还有一列列的荣杯。 
　　哈利·波特走进教室集中时，听到很细小的说话声。 
　　“她在哪？”罗恩问。 
　　一个声音突然从阴影中传出来，那是亲切模糊的声音。 
　　“欢迎。”她说，“很高兴终于在这物理世界见到你们。” 
　　特雷络尼教授走进灯光下，他们看到她很瘦，她的大眼镜把她的眼睛放大成原来的几倍，她披着一件很薄的闪闪发光的披肩，数不清的项链和首饰挂在她瘦长的颈上，她的手臂戴满了手环，手上也戴满了戒指。 
　　“坐吧，我的孩子，坐。”她说，他们都笨拙地坐在扶手椅子上，挨着软绵绵的垫子，哈利、罗恩和荷米恩都在同一桌子旁的椅子上坐下来了。“欢迎来学占卜学。”特雷络尼教授说，她在火炉前那雕有翅膀的椅子上坐下来，“我叫特雷络尼教授，我认为经常下去那吵吵闹闹的校园，那种气氛会模糊了我心灵和眼。” 
　　没有对她这种特别的声明说些什么，特雷络尼故意整顿一下她的披肩又继续说，“既然你们都选择学占卜学，这可是魔法界中最难的一门，我一定要告诫你们，如果你们没有眼界的话，我不能教到你些什么的，书只能带你们在这领域中走这么远……” 
　　听到这些话，哈利和罗恩相视一笑。荷米恩看上去很吃惊，这些书竟然在这里没有什么用。 
　　“很多巫师和巫婆虽然很有才能。但他们却不能揭穿未来的面纱。”特雷络尼教授继续说，她那奇怪发亮的眼睛在一张张紧张的脸上妇来扫去。“很少人有这种天分。你，孩子。”她突然对尼维尔说，“你奶奶还好吗？” 
　　“还好。”尼维尔战栗地说。 
　　“亲爱的，如果我是你的话就不会那么肯定了。”特雷络尼教授说，灯光在她长长的翡翠耳环中闪着，尼维尔吞了口气。特雷络尼教授平静地继续说，“我们这年会学占卜术的基本方法，第一学期我们学读茶叶，第二学期我们开始学手相术。 
　　还有顺便说一下，我亲爱的。“她突然盯着帕维提。帕提，”小心一个红头发的男人。“ 
　　帕维提吃惊地看了一下罗恩，他坐在地旁边，她立即搬着凳子远离他。 
　　“在这学期，”特雷络尼教授继续说，“我们开始学水晶球——当然以我们学完火红预兆为前提，那就是，很不幸，课程会被二月份那糟糕的流感打断的。我也会失去声音。大概在复活节左右，我们当中有一个会永远离开我们。” 
　　跟着她这段话的是紧张的沉默。但是特雷络尼教授好像没注意到。 
　　“亲爱的，我在想，”她对离她桌子最近的并向后缩的拉温德。布朗说，“你是否可以帮我把那最大的银茶壶递给我？” 
　　拉温德放松了一点，他站起来从架子上拿起一个特大茶壶，并把它放在特雷络尼教授前的桌子上。 
　　“谢谢你，亲爱的，很意外的，你最讨厌的事会发生在十月十六日，星期五。” 
　　拉温德颤抖了一下。 
　　“现在，我要把你们分成一对一对的。拿起架上的茶杯，跟我来，我会倒满它。 
　　然后坐下来喝，直到只剩下残渣，用左手在茶杯内擦三下，然后把茶杯倒放在碟子上，等着最后一滴茶流走，就拿茶杯跟你的同伴交换来看。你可以看看《光明的将来》的第五页和第六页的章节来解释你所看到的。我会在你们周围巡察帮助和指导你们，哦，亲爱的——“她抓住尼维尔的手臂让他站起来。”你打破第一只杯子后，你可以挑一只青色的杯吗？我挺喜欢粉红色的。“ 
　　果然，尼维尔刚伸手到架子上拿杯子就传来打碎玻璃的声音。 
　　特雷络尼教授走过去，手拿着刷子和垃圾箱对他说，“拿一个青色的，亲爱的，你不介意的话……谢谢……” 
　　当哈利和罗恩把茶杯装了茶后，他们走回他们的桌子大口大口地喝烫口的荣，喝完后用手擦着茶杯的残渣，正如特雷络尼教授所教的一样，然后等茶留干了，交换茶杯观察。 
　　“对了。”罗恩说，他们都打开书的第五和第六页，“你在我的茶杯看到什么？” 
　　“是褐色的已烧透的东西。”哈利说，浓浓的香水味让他觉得又迟钝又困。 
　　“放宽思维，亲爱的同学们，让你们的眼睛看穿世俗的东西。”特雷络尼教授忧郁地喊道。 
　　哈利努力地提起神。 
　　“对了，你这有一个摇晃的十字架……”他参看一下《光明的将来》说，“那意味着你会遇到审判和痛苦——那很难过——但是事情会好起来的。等等……那意味着‘很幸福’……因此，你会受到折磨的然后会很幸福的……” 
　　“我要说你需要进行一个心灵之眼的测试。”罗恩说，特雷络尼教授向他们看过来时，他们立即止住笑。“轮到我了……”罗恩看看哈利的杯子，他的额头努力地皱起来，“有一个像板球投手的帽子一样的斑点，”他说，“可能是你将会在魔法部那里工作……” 
　　他把杯子翻了翻。 
　　“这样看像是一个椰子……那是什么？”他在《光明的将来》里看了看说，“‘有意外的收获，出乎意料的金子’，太好了，你可以借点给我花，这还有一点东西，”他把杯子又转了转，“那看上去像一只动物，对了那是它的头，……看起来像一只河马，不，一只羊……” 
　　正当哈利大声笑的时候，特雷络尼教授转到这边来。 
　　“亲爱的，让我看看，”她挑剔地对罗恩说。看着便把哈利的茶杯抢过去。每个人都静下来看着。 
　　特雷络尼教授盯着哈利的茶杯，逆时针地转动着它。 
　　“猎鹰……天呀，你有一个很致命的敌人。” 
　　“但是大家都知道那个了，”荷米恩说，“谁都知道哈利的事和‘那个人’！” 
　　哈利和罗恩混和着趣味和钦佩地望着她。他们从来没有见过荷术思那样跟老师说话。特雷络尼教授没有回答她，她反而用大大的眼睛靠近哈利的杯子继续转动它。 
　　“黑梅花……一个袭击，天啊，这可不是一个快乐的杯子……” 
　　“我还以为是板球投手的帽子呢！”罗恩困倦地说。 
　　“头盖骨……你的前方会有危险，亲爱的……” 
　　每个人都睁着眼盯着特雷络尼教授，最后她再转着林子，喘着气，然后尖叫起来。 
　　又传来了叮当一声打破杯子，尼维尔第二次打破了杯子。特雷络尼教授坐到一张空的扶手椅上，她发亮的手捂着心脏，眼睛闭上。 
　　“我亲爱的孩子——可怜的孩子——不——不告诉你好一点——不——不要问我……” 
　　“教授，那是什么呀？”汤姆斯问，每个人都站起来了，慢慢地围着哈利和罗恩的桌子，压向特雷络尼教授的椅子去看那哈利的杯子。 
　　“天啊，”特雷络尼教授的大眼睛戏剧般睁开说，“你要面对狰狞的东西。” 
　　“什么？”哈利问。 
　　他敢说他不是唯—一个不明白的。汤姆斯耸耸肩，但大多数人用手捂着口。 
　　“狰狞的，亲爱的，是格拉菲。”特雷络尼教授大喊，她很惊诧哈利怎么会不懂，“是巨大的，幽灵般的狗整天在教会墓地出现的，我亲爱的孩子，这是预兆，是坏的预兆——死亡。” 
　　哈利的胃紧紧收缩一下，弗维里斯和巴洛特斯书店里那本《死亡预兆》封面上那条狗，还有在马克来里新月街上的狗的影子……拉温德。布朗用手拍拍口，大家都看着哈利，除了荷米恩，她站起来走到特雷络尼教授的椅子后面。 
　　“我认为他不像格拉菲。”她平静地说。 
　　特雷络尼教授很不喜欢地看着荷米恩。 
　　“亲爱的，请原谅我这么说，我不大接受你这种香味。对你对将来的看法也没多大的共鸣。” 
　　谢默斯仰着头看看这个又看看那个。 
　　“如果这样看就像一个格拉菲，”他几乎闭着眼睛说，“但如果你这样看就像一只驴。”他靠向左边说。 
　　“那你们就可以决定我是否快要死了？”哈利自己也很奇怪地说，好像没有想再看它一眼。 
　　“我想我们今天的课就上到这里吧，”特雷络尼教授朦朦胧胧地说，“是的，收拾你们的东西吧。” 
　　静静地，同学们把茶杯放回特雷络尼教授的架子上，把书都收起来放回书包里。 
　　“再见，”特雷络尼教授微微地说，“命运掌握在你手中，哦，亲爱的——” 
　　她指着尼维尔说，“你下节课迟到了，你可要努力跟上。” 
　　哈利、罗恩和荷米思沉默地从特雷络尼教授的梯子下来到阶梯前。他们又得赶去上麦康娜的变形课，他们匆匆忙忙离开占卜课室，因为要很长时间他们才能找到课室。 
　　哈利挑最后一张凳子坐下来，但其他同学总是偷偷地回过头看他，好像他随时都会死掉一样。他几乎没有听到麦康娜教授所讲的能够随意变成动物的巫师，甚至对她在众人面前变成一只双眼周围有条纹的虎斑猫这一举动看都不看。 
　　“说真的，你今天怎么啦？”麦康娜教授说，她砰的一声变回原形，然后望着大家。“这可是我第一次在班里变形没有赢得掌声。” 
　　全班学生又向哈利看了看，但没有人说话，荷米恩抬起她的手。 
　　“教授，我们刚刚上完第一节占卜课，我们都在读茶叶，所以……” 
　　“哦，当然，”麦康娜教授突然皱着眉头说，“格林佐小姐，不用说了。告诉我，你们中谁会在今年死去？” 
　　所有的人都望着她。 
　　“我。”坐在最后面的哈利说。 
　　“我明白了，”麦康娜教授用珠子似的眼睛看着哈利，“那么你应该知道，特雷络尼自从进入这学校后每年都预测有一个学生在一年内死去的。但到目前为止还没有人死。可以看出对死亡的预兆是她最喜欢的用来吸引新生方法。如果不是因为我从不说我同事的坏话的话——”麦康娜停顿下来，大家都看见她的鼻子变白了。 
　　她更加镇静地继续说，“占卜学是魔法界最不严密的一个分支。真正的先知是很少的，并且特雷络尼教授……” 
　　她又停下来，然后又用事实性的语调说，“我看你还很健康，波特，所以请原谅我今天还是要你做功课。我向你保证，如果你就要死的话，我就不用你交功课了。” 
　　荷米恩笑了。哈利觉得好一点了。现在想起那昏暗的红灯下的茶叶，还有特雷络尼教授身上让人头昏的香味，哈利不觉得害怕了。 
　　但是还有很多人相信她说的话，荷米恩看上去仍然很担心，拉温德低声说，“但是尼维尔打破杯的事？” 
　　当变形术课结束后，他们涌入人群向大厅去吃午餐。 
　　“罗恩，振奋点，”荷米恩把一碗炖汤推给他说，“你听麦康娜教授说了吧？” 
　　罗恩舀取汤放到他的碗里，拿起叉子但没开始吃。 
　　“哈利，”他说，声音很低很严肃，“你没有在那里见到过那大黑狗吧，对吗？” 
　　“是的，我见过了。”哈利说，“我离开德斯里家那晚见过了。” 
　　罗恩手中的刀叉当的一声掉下来。 
　　“很可能是一只家畜。”荷米恩镇静地说。 
　　罗恩看看荷米恩，他觉得她像疯子。 
　　“荷米恩，如果哈利真的看见一只格拉菲……” 
　　荷米恩高傲地说。“格拉菲不是死的预兆而是把死亡引走，而哈利仍然跟我们在一起是因为他不是那么笨，看见一只格拉菲就想到死亡。” 
　　“那就是——就是了。”罗恩说，“我——我姨丈比里斯看见过一次——然后二十四小时就死了。” 
　　“那是巧合，”荷米恩轻松地边说边给自己倒了一些南瓜汁。“格拉菲在大白天已经吓死过很多巫师了。” 
　　“你根本就不知道自己在说什么。”罗恩说，他开始生气了。 
　　罗恩张开口看着荷米恩，她打开书包，拿出她的数字占卜法课本，背着果汁壶翻开书。 
　　“我认为占卜学很模糊不清，”她说着在书上找着，“我看这有很多都是臆猜的。” 
　　“但是格拉菲和那茶杯就没有什么模糊不清了。”罗恩辣辣地说。 
　　“你看上去并不自信，当你告诉哈利那是一只羊的时候。”荷米恩冷冷地说。 
　　“特雷络尼教授说你没有正确的预测，你根本就没有接受这改变。”罗恩很过火地说，荷米恩狠狠合上数字占卜法书，桌子颤动一下，桌上有些肉和萝卜四处飞起来了。 
　　“如果学好占卜学意味着我要在一堆茶叶中假装看到死亡预兆的话，我肯定我不会学下去的，那课对比起我的数字占卜学简直就是垃圾
Chapter 7 The Boggart In The Wardrobe
Malfoy didn't reappear in classes until late on Thursday morning, when the Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions. He swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting, in Harry's opinion, as though he were the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle. 
“How is it, Draco?” simpered Pansy Parkinson. “Does it hurt much?” 
“Yeah,” said Malfoy, putting on a brave sort of grimace. But Harry saw him wink at Crabbe and Goyle when Pansy had looked away. 
“Settle down, settle down,” said Professor Snape idly. 
Harry and Ron scowled at each other; Snape wouldn't have said ‘settle down’ if they'd walked in late, he'd have given them detention. But Malfoy had always been able to get away with anything in Snape's classes; Snape was head of Slytherin House, and generally favored his own students above all others. 
They were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to Harry and Ron, so that they were preparing their ingredients on the same table. 
“Sir,” Malfoy called, “sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm —” 
“Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him,” said Snape without looking up. 
Ron went brick red. 
“There's nothing wrong with your arm,” he hissed at Malfoy. 
Malfoy smirked across the table. 
“Weasley, you heard Professor Snape; cut up these roots.” 
Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy's roots toward him, and began to chop them roughly, so that they were all different sizes. 
“Professor,” drawled Malfoy, “Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir.” 
Snape approached their table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, then gave Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy black hair. 
“Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley.” 
“But, sir —!” 
Ron had spent the last quarter of an hour carefully shredding his own roots into exactly equal pieces. 
“Now,” said Snape in his most dangerous voice. 
Ron shoved his own beautifully cut roots across the table at Malfoy, then took up the knife again. 
“And, sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned,” said Malfoy, his voice full of malicious laughter. 
“Potter, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig,” said Snape, giving Harry the look of loathing he always reserved just for him. 
Harry took Malfoy's shrivelfig as Ron began trying to repair the damage to the roots he now had to use. Harry skinned the shrivelfig as fast as he could and flung it back across the table at Malfoy without speaking. Malfoy was smirking more broadly than ever. 
“Seen your pal Hagrid lately?” he asked them quietly. 
“None of your business,” said Ron jerkily, without looking up. 
“I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer,” said Malfoy in a tone of mock sorrow. “Father's not very happy about my injury —” 
“Keep talking, Malfoy, and I'll give you a real injury,” snarled Ron. 
“– he's complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this” — he gave a huge, fake sigh — “who knows if my arm'll ever be the same again?” 
“So that's why you're putting it on,” said Harry, accidentally beheading a dead caterpillar because his hand was shaking in anger, “To try to get Hagrid fired.” 
“Well,” said Malfoy, lowering his voice to a whisper, “partly, Potter. But there are other benefits too. Weasley, slice my caterpillars for me.” 
A few cauldrons away, Neville was in trouble. Neville regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject, and his great fear of Professor Snape made things ten times worse. His potion, which was supposed to be a bright, acid green, had turned — 
“Orange, Longbottom,” said Snape, ladling some up and allowing to splash back into the cauldron, so that everyone could see. 
“Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one cat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?” 
Neville was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears. 
“Please, sir,” said Hermione, “please, I could help Neville put it right —” 
“I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger,” said Snape coldly, and Hermione went as pink as Neville. “Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly.” 
Snape moved away, leaving Neville breathless with fear. 
“Help me!” he moaned to Hermione. 
“Hey, Harry,” said Seamus Finnigan, leaning over to borrow Harry's brass scales, “have you heard? Daily Prophet this morning — they reckon Sirius Black's been sighted.” 
“Where?” said Harry and Ron quickly. On the other side of the table, Malfoy looked up, listening closely. 
“Not too far from here,” said Seamus, who looked excited. “It was a Muggle who saw him. ‘Course, she didn't really understand. The Muggles think he's just an ordinary criminal, don't they? So she phoned the telephone hot line. By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone.” 
“Not too far from here …” Ron repeated, looking significantly at Harry. He turned around and saw Malfoy watching closely. “What, Malfoy? Need something else skinned?” 
But Malfoy's eyes were shining malevolently, and they were fixed Harry. He leaned across the table. 
“Thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed, Potter?” 
“Yeah, that's right,” said Harry offhandedly. 
Malfoy's thin mouth was curving in a mean smile. 
“Of course, if it was me,” he said quietly, “I'd have done something before now. I wouldn't be staying in school like a good boy, I'd be out there looking for him.” 
“What are you talking about, Malfoy?” said Ron roughly. 
“Don't you know, Potter?” breathed Malfoy, his pale eyes narrowed. 
“Know what?” 
Malfoy let out a low, sneering laugh. 
“Maybe you'd rather not risk your neck,” he said. “Want to leave it to the Dementors, do you? But if it was me, I'd want revenge. I'd hunt him down myself.” 
“What are you talking about?” said Harry angrily, but at that moment Snape called, “You should have finished adding your ingredients by now; this potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so clear away while it simmers and then we'll test Longbottom's…” 
Crabbe and Goyle laughed openly, watching Neville sweat as he stirred his potion feverishly. Hermione was muttering instructions to him out of the corner of her mouth, so that Snape wouldn't see. Harry and Ron packed away their unused ingredients and went to wash their hands and ladles in the stone basin in the corner. 
“What did Malfoy mean?” Harry muttered to Ron as he stuck his hands under the icy jet that poured from the gargoyle's mouth “Why would I want revenge on Black? He hasn't done anything to me — yet.” 
“He's making it up,” said Ron savagely. “He's trying to make you do something stupid…” 
The end of the lesson in sight, Snape strode over to Neville, who was cowering by his cauldron. 
“Everyone gather ‘round,” said Snape, his black eyes glittering, “and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned.” 
The Gryffindors watched fearfully. The Slytherins looked excited. Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville's potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down Trevor's throat. 
There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small pop, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape's palm. 
The Gryffindors burst into applause. Snape, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown. 
“Five points from Gryffindor,” said Snape, which wiped the smiles from every face. “I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed.” 
Harry, Ron, and Hermione climbed the steps to the entrance hall. Harry was still thinking about what Malfoy had said, while Ron was seething about Snape. 
“Five points from Gryffindor because the potion was all right! Why didn't you lie, Hermione? You should've said Neville did it all by himself!” 
Hermione didn't answer. Ron looked around. 
“Where is she?” 
Harry turned too. They were at the top of the steps now, watching the rest of the class pass them, heading for the Great Hall and lunch. 
“She was right behind us,” said Ron, frowning. 
Malfoy passed them, walking between Crabbe and Goyle. He smirked at Harry and disappeared. 
“There she is,” said Harry. 
Hermione was panting slightly, hurrying up the stairs; one hand clutched her bag, the other seemed to be tucking something down the front of her robes. 
“How did you do that?” said Ron. 
“What?” said Hermione, joining them. 
“One minute you were right behind us, the next moment, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again.” 
“What?” Hermione looked slightly confused. “Oh — I had to go back for something. Oh no —” 
A seam had split on Hermione's bag. Harry wasn't surprised; he could see that it was crammed with at least a dozen large and heavy books. 
“Why are you carrying all these around with you?” Ron asked her. 
“You know how many subjects I'm taking,” said Hermione breathlessly. “Couldn't hold these for me, could you?” 
“But —” Ron was turning over the books she had handed him, looking at the covers. “You haven't got any of these subjects today. It's only Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon.” 
“Oh yes,” said Hermione vaguely, but she packed all the books back into her bag just the same. “I hope there's something good for lunch, I'm starving,” she added, and she marched off toward the Great Hall. 
“D'you get the feeling Hermione's not telling us something?” Ron asked Harry. 
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　* 
Professor Lupin wasn't there when they arrived at his first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. They all sat down, took out their books, quills, and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room. Lupin smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher's desk. He was as shabby as ever but looked healthier than he had on the train, as though he had had a few square meals. 
“Good afternoon,” he said. “Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands.” 
A few curious looks were exchanged as the class put away their books. They had never had a practical Defense Against the Dark Arts class before, unless you counted the memorable class last year when their old teacher had brought a cageful of pixies to class and set them loose. 
“Right then,” said Professor Lupin, when everyone was ready. “If you'd follow me.” 
Puzzled but interested, the class got to its feet and followed Professor Lupin out of the classroom. He led them along the deserted corridor and around a corner, where the first thing they saw was Peeves the Poltergeist, who was floating upside down in midair and stuffing the nearest keyhole with chewing gum. 
Peeves didn't look up until Professor Lupin was two feet away; then he wiggled his curly-toed feet and broke into song. 
“Loony, loopy Lupin,” Peeves sang. “Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin —” 
Rude and unmanageable as he almost always was, Peeves usually showed some respect toward the teachers. Everyone looked quickly at Professor Lupin to see how he would take this; to their surprise, he was still smiling. 
“I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves,” he said pleasantly. “Mr. Filch won't be able to get in to his brooms.” 
Filch was the Hogwarts caretaker, a bad-tempered, failed wizard who waged a constant war against the students and, indeed, Peeves. However, Peeves paid no attention to Professor Lupin's words, except to blow a loud wet raspberry. 
Professor Lupin gave a small sigh and took out his wand. 
“This is a useful little spell,” he told the class over his shoulder. “Please watch closely.” 
He raised the wand to shoulder height, said, “Waddiwasi!” and pointed it at Peeves. 
With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum shot out of the keyhole and straight down Peeves's left nostril; he whirled upright and zoomed away, cursing. 
“Cool, sir!” said Dean Thomas in amazement. 
“Thank you, Dean,” said Professor Lupin, putting his wand away again. “Shall we proceed?” 
They set off again, the class looking at shabby Professor Lupin with increased respect. He led them down a second corridor and stopped, right outside the staffroom door. 
“Inside, please,” said Professor Lupin, opening it and standing back. 
The staffroom, a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs, was empty except for one teacher. Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair, and he looked around as the class filed in. His eyes were glittering and there was a nasty sneer playing around his mouth. As Professor Lupin came in and made to close the door behind him, Snape said, “Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this.” He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes billowing behind him. At the doorway he turned on his heel and said, “Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear.” 
Neville went scarlet. Harry glared at Snape; it was bad enough that he bullied Neville in his own classes, let alone doing it in front of other teachers. 
Professor Lupin had raised his eyebrows. 
“I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation,” he said, “and I am sure he will perform it admirably.” 
Neville's face went, if possible, even redder. Snape's lip curled, but he left, shutting the door with a snap. 
“Now, then,” said Professor Lupin, beckoning the class toward the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall. 
“Nothing to worry about,” said Professor Lupin calmly because a few people had jumped backward in alarm. “There's a Boggart in there.” 
Most people seemed to feel that this was something to worry about. Neville gave Professor Lupin a look of pure terror, and Seamus Finnigan eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively. 
“Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces,” said Professor Lupin. “Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks — I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice.” 
“So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a Boggart?” 
Hermione put up her hand. 
“It's a shape-shifter,” she said. “It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most.” 
“Couldn't have put it better myself,” said Professor Lupin, and Hermione glowed. “So the Boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears. 
“This means,” said Professor Lupin, choosing to ignore Neville's small sputter of terror, “that we have a huge advantage over the Boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?” 
Trying to answer a question with Hermione next to him, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet with her hand in the air, was very off-putting, but Harry had a go. 
“Er — because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?” 
“Precisely,” said Professor Lupin, and Hermione put her hand down, looking a little disappointed. “It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a Boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that very mistake — tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening. 
‘The charm that repels a Boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing. 
“We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please…riddikulus!” 
“Riddikulus!” said the class together. 
“Good,” said Professor Lupin. “Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville.” 
The wardrobe shook again, though not as much as Neville, who walked forward as though he were heading for the gallows. 
“Right, Neville,” said Professor Lupin. “First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?” 
Neville's lips moved, but no noise came out. 
“I didn't catch that, Neville, sorry,” said Professor Lupin cheerfully. 
Neville looked around rather wildly, as though begging someone to help him, then said, in barely more than a whisper, “Professor Snape.” 
Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville grinned apologetically. Professor Lupin, however, looked thoughtful. 
“Professor Snape…hmmm…Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?” 
“Er — yes,” said Neville nervously. “But — I don't want the Boggart to turn into her either.” 
“No, no, you misunderstand me,” said Professor Lupin, now smiling. “I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?” 
Neville looked startled, but said, “Well…always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress…green, normally…and sometimes a fox-fur scarf.” 
“And a handbag?” prompted Professor Lupin. 
“A big red one,” said Neville. 
“Right then,” said Professor Lupin. “Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind's eye?” 
“Yes,” said Neville uncertainty, plainly wondering what was coming next. 
“When the Boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape,” said Lupin. “And you will raise your wand — thus — and cry “Riddikulus” — and concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag.” 
There was a great shout of laughter. The wardrobe wobbled more violently. 
“If Neville is successful, the Boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn,” said Professor Lupin. “I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical…” 
The room went quiet. Harry thought…What scared him most in the world? 
His first thought was Lord Voldemort — a Voldemort returned to full strength. But before he had even started to plan a possible counterattack on a Boggart-Voldemort, a horrible image came floating to the surface of his mind.… 
A rotting, glistening hand, slithering back beneath a black cloak…a long, rattling breath from an unseen mouth…then a cold so penetrating it felt like drowning… 
Harry shivered, then looked around, hoping no one had noticed. Many people had their eyes shut tight. Ron was muttering to himself, “Take its legs off.” Harry was sure he knew what that was about. Ron's greatest fear was spiders. 
“Everyone ready?” said Professor Lupin. 
Harry felt a lurch of fear. He wasn't ready. How could you make a Dementor less frightening? But he didn't want to ask for more time; everyone else was nodding and rolling up their sleeves. 
“Neville, we're going to back away,” said Professor Lupin. “Let you have a clear field, all right? I'll call the next person forward…Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot —” 
They all retreated, backed against the walls, leaving Neville alone beside the wardrobe. He looked pale and frightened, but he had pushed up the sleeves of his robes and was holding his wand ready. 
“On the count of three, Neville,” said Professor Lupin, who was pointing his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe. “One — two — three — now!” 
A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin's wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Professor Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at Neville. 
Neville backed away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly. Snape was bearing down upon him, reaching inside his robes. 
“R — r — riddikulus! “ squeaked Neville. 
There was a noise like a whip crack. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag. 
There was a roar of laughter; the Boggart paused, confused, and Professor Lupin shouted, “Parvati! Forward!” 
Parvati walked forward, her face set. Snape rounded on her. There was another crack, and where he had stood was a bloodstained, bandaged mummy; its sightless face was turned to Parvati and it began to walk toward her very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising — 
“Riddikulus!” cried Parvati. 
A bandage unraveled at the mummy's feet; it became entangled, fell face forward, and its head rolled off. 
“Seamus!” roared Professor Lupin. 
Seamus darted past Parvati. 
Crack! Where the mummy had been was a woman with floorlength black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face — a banshee. She opened her mouth wide and an unearthly sound filled the room, a long, wailing shriek that made the hair on Harry's head stand on end — “Riddikulus!” shouted Seamus. 
The banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice was gone. 
Crack! The banshee turned into a rat, which chased its tail in a circle, then — crack!- became a rattlesnake, which slithered and writhed before — crack! — becoming a single, bloody eyeball. 
“It's confused!” shouted Lupin. “We're getting there! Dean!” 
Dean hurried forward. 
Crack! The eyeball became a severed hand, which flipped over and began to creep along the floor like a crab. 
“Riddikulus!” yelled Dean. 
There was a snap, and the hand was trapped in a mousetrap. 
“Excellent! Ron, you next!” 
Ron leapt forward. 
Crack! 
Quite a few people screamed. A giant spider, six feet tall and covered in hair, was advancing on Ron, clicking its pincers menacingly. For a moment, Harry thought Ron had frozen. Then — 
“Riddikulus!” bellowed Ron, and the spider's legs vanished; it rolled over and over; Lavender Brown squealed and ran out of its way and it came to a halt at Harry's feet. He raised his wand, ready, but — 
“Here!” shouted Professor Lupin suddenly, hurrying forward. Crack! 
The legless spider had vanished. For a second, everyone looked wildly around to see where it was. Then they saw a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin, who said, “Riddikulus!” almost lazily. 
Crack! 
“Forward, Neville, and finish him off!” said Lupin as the Boggart landed on the floor as a cockroach. Crack! Snape was back. This time Neville charged forward looking determined. 
“Riddikulus!” he shouted, and they had a split second's view of Snape in his lacy dress before Neville let out a great “Ha!” of laughter, and the Boggart exploded, burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone. 
“Excellent!” cried Professor Lupin as the class broke into applause. “Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone…Let me see…five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the Boggart — ten for Neville because he did it twice…and five each to Hermione and Harry.” 
“But I didn't do anything,” said Harry. 
“You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Harry,” Lupin said lightly. “Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on Boggarts and summarize it for me…to be handed in on Monday. That will be all.” 
Talking excitedly, the class left the staffroom. Harry, however, wasn't feeling cheerful. Professor Lupin had deliberately stopped him from tackling the Boggart. Why? Was it because he'd seen Harry collapse on the train, and thought he wasn't up to much? Had he thought Harry would pass out again? 
But no one else seemed to have noticed anything. 
“Did you see me take that banshee?” shouted Seamus. 
“And the hand!” said Dean, waving his own around. 
“And Snape in that hat!” 
“And my mummy!” 
“I wonder why Professor Lupin's frightened of crystal balls?” said Lavender thoughtfully. 
“That was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson we've ever had, wasn't it?” said Ron excitedly as they made their way back to the classroom to get their bags. 
“He seems like a very good teacher,” said Hermione approvingly. “But I wish I could have had a turn with the Boggart —” 
“What would it have been for you?” said Ron, sniggering. “A piece of homework that only got nine out of ten?” 
直到星期二早上，马尔夫才在班里出现，那时候史林德林和格林并顿的学生正在上药剂课，他昂着挺胸地走进来，右手还用绷带缠着吊在脖子下，装模作样的，正如哈利所说的一样，像从战场中回来的英雄一般。 
　　“马尔夫，你觉得怎样？”克来伯傻笑着问，“伤得很严重吗？” 
　　“是的。”马尔夫作了勇敢的鬼脸说，当哈利看他时，他正向克来伯和高尔打眼色。 
　　“坐好了，坐好了。”史纳皮教授说。 
　　哈利和罗思互相皱了一下眉头。史纳皮教授不应该说“坐下” 
　　的，因为他迟到了，应该要留堂的。但是马尔夫总能在史纳皮教授的课上为所欲为的，史纳皮教授是史林德林的领导，他肯定站在他的学生那边的。 
　　他们今天在制造一种新的药剂，是收缩药，马尔夫就在哈利旁边坐下来，所以他们就在同一张桌子上准备着药物成分。 
　　“老师，”马尔夫喊，“老师，我需要人帮我把这菊花根切开，因为我的手臂——” 
　　“威斯里，你帮马尔夫切那些根。”史纳皮教授头也不抬地说。 
　　罗恩的脸变成砖红色。 
　　“你的手根本就没问题。”他对马尔夫愤怒地说。 
　　马尔夫向罗恩轻蔑地笑着。 
　　“威斯里，你没听到史纳皮教授说吗？切开这些根！” 
　　罗恩拿起刀，把马尔夫的根拉到他面前，粗糙地切下来，每一块大小都不同。 
　　“教授，”马尔夫懒洋洋地说，“威斯里正在催残我的根。” 
　　史纳皮教授走到他们的桌子前，眼睛从那钩鼻子看下去，狠狠地对罗恩笑了一下。 
　　“威斯里，你跟马尔夫交换根。” 
　　“但是，老师——” 
　　罗恩用了一刻钟的时间才把根切成大小相等的一块块。 
　　“现在！”史纳皮教授用很威胁性的语气说。 
　　罗恩把他那些切得很漂亮的根推给对面的马尔夫，然后又拿起刀切起根来。 
　　“还有，老师，我要把这种化里弗格去皮。”马尔夫说，声音里充满了轻蔑的笑。 
　　“波特，你帮马尔夫把那化里弗格去皮吧。”史纳皮教授说着向哈利讨厌地瞪了一眼。 
　　哈利拿起马尔夫的化里弗格，这时罗恩正在努力地把切坏的根切好来自己用。 
　　哈利二话没说飞快地削着化里弗格，然后把它扔过去，马尔夫显得更加傲慢了。 
　　“你们近来有没见那白痴哈格力吗？”他静静地问。 
　　“不关你的事。”罗恩冲动地说，他头也没抬。 
　　“我想他再也不能当老师了，”马尔夫假装伤痛地说，“我爸爸知道我受伤了很不高兴——” 
　　“马尔夫，你再说，我就真的打伤你。”罗恩顶撞过去。 
　　“已经向学校领导报告了，那有魔法总部，你知道了，我爸爸很有影响力的，这么严重的伤——”他夸张地叹了一声，“谁知道我的手是否永远会这样呢？” 
　　“那为什么你要说出来，”哈利生气地说着，他不小心弄死了一条小虫，因为他的手一直在颤动着，“并且努力让哈格力被解雇。” 
　　“嗯，”马尔夫放低音量说，“部分原因是因为你，但是还有其他目的，罗恩，帮我把毛毛虫切开。” 
　　一会儿后，尼维尔有麻烦了，尼维尔上药剂课时不时缺席，这是他学得最差劲的课，还有他对史纳皮教授的畏惧使到事情更糟糕。 
　　他的药，本来应该是明亮，酸绿色的，现在变成——“橙色了，尼维尔，”史纳皮教授说着舀取一些上来是倒到桌子匕，好让全班人都看到。“橙色，告诉我，孩子，你脑袋是有问题吗？ 
　　你没听到我清楚说只需要放一个老鼠脾脏吗？难道我没有清楚地说一滴水蛭汁就够了吗？我应该怎样说你才能明白呀，尼维尔？“ 
　　尼维尔红着脸战栗着，看上去他在努力忍着不让眼泪流下来。 
　　“老师，请求你，”荷米恩说，“请求你，让我帮帮尼维尔，做好它——” 
　　“我忘了曾叫过你不炫耀，格林佐小姐，”史纳皮教授冷冷地说，荷米恩像尼维尔一样脸红了。“尼维尔，下课后我们把你做的药剂喂点给那癞蛤蟆吃，看看会发生什么。也许那样会让你做得好点。” 
　　史纳皮教授走开了，尼维尔吓得不敢呼吸。 
　　“帮帮我！”他对荷米恩恳求地说。 
　　“嗨，哈利，”谢默斯伸过去借哈利的铜称子，“你有没有听到，今天的《先知日报》——他们承认有人见过西里斯。巴拉克了。” 
　　“在哪里？”哈利和罗恩急忙问。桌子的另一边，马尔夫抬起头仔细地听着。 
　　“离这里不远的地方，”谢墨斯有点兴奋地说，“是一个非魔界的人看到的。 
　　当然她不全懂，人们都认为他只是普通的罪犯而已，对吗？因此，她打热线报告，等到魔法部的人赶到那里，他已经走了。“ 
　　“离这里不远……”罗恩重复说，他有意地看了哈利一眼，他转过去看到马尔夫细细地听着，“怎么，马尔夫，还有什么要去皮的？” 
　　但是马尔夫的眼恶毒地闪着，紧紧地盯着哈利，他倾着身子问哈利。 
　　“波特，打算单身匹马捉拿巴拉克吗？” 
　　“是的，对了。”哈利不客气地说。 
　　马尔夫薄薄的嘴扁了一下，卑鄙地笑笑。 
　　“当然，如果是我，”他慢慢地说，“我一早就采取行动了。才不会躲在学校里做好孩子呢，我会出去找他的。” 
　　“马尔夫，你在说什么呀？”罗恩粗鲁地说。 
　　“波特，你不知道吗？”马尔夫眯着眼睛气呼呼地说。 
　　“知道什么？” 
　　马尔夫发出蔑视的低沉的笑声。 
　　“你可能要留着头，”他说，“想留给得蒙特，对吗？但是如果是我，我要报仇，我会反过来找他的。” 
　　“你在说什么鬼呀？”哈利生气地说，但那个时候史纳皮教授喊，“你们都把成分弄好了吧。这药剂首先要炖了，才能喝的。我们先把它收拾起来，然后来测试一下尼维尔的……” 
　　克来伯和高尔大笑起来，看着尼维尔使劲地搅抖那药剂，为了不让史纳皮教授看见，荷米恩用嘴角细声告诉他怎样做，哈利和罗恩把未用到的东西放到一边，然后去洗手，之后站在墙角的石盘子旁边。 
　　“马尔夫说的什么意思啊？”哈利低声对罗思说，他把手放在从一个怪人像的口里流出来的冰冻的液体下。“我为什么要向巴拉克报仇？他还没伤害我呢？” 
　　“他在乱说，”罗恩暴躁地说，“他想让你做些蠢事……” 
　　快下课了，史纳皮教授走到尼维尔身旁，他正在桌子旁边发抖。 
　　“大家都过来了，”史纳皮教授眨着黑眼睛说，“来看看尼维尔的蛤蟆会怎么样。如果他成功地做出退缩剂的话，它会退缩成一只蝌蚪的。如果不是，我敢肯定他做错了，那蛤蟆就会被毒死的。” 
　　格利芬顿的人都担心地看着，史林德林的学生却很兴奋，史纳皮教授用右手抓住癞蛤蟆，用小舀子舀了一些尼维尔的药剂，那药剂现在是青色的，他把药剂滴进癞蛤蟆的喉咙里。 
　　癞蛤蟆吞下去了，班里一片安静。然后就是砰的一声，癞蛤蟆在史纳皮教授的手掌里变成了蝌蚪了。 
　　格利芬顿的学生响起了热烈的掌声，史纳皮教授看上去很失望的样子，他从衣袋里拿出一个小瓶，在癞蛤模身上滴见满，它又重新变回原形了。 
　　“格利芬顿扣五分，”史纳皮教授这么一说，笑容从他们脸上消失了。“格林佐小姐，我叫你不要帮他的。下课！” 
　　哈利，罗恩和荷米恩上楼梯到了入口大堂，哈利还在想马尔夫的话，而罗恩则在埋怨史纲皮教授。 
　　“因为药剂做成功而扣五分！你为什么不撒谎呢，荷米恩？你应该说都是尼维尔一个人做的嘛。” 
　　荷术恩没有回答，罗恩四周看看。 
　　“她在哪里？” 
　　哈利也转过身，他们已经在阶梯的顶部了，看着班上的其他人从他们身边走过，向大厅走去。 
　　“她刚才在我们后面的。”罗恩不满地说。 
　　马尔夫走在克来估和高尔中间，经过他们时，他向哈利蔑视地扫了一眼然后消失了。 
　　“她在那儿。”哈利说。 
　　荷术恩迅速上阶梯，一手拿着她的书包，一手在衣服里藏些什么，喘着气向他们走过来。 
　　“你刚才是怎么做的？”罗恩说。 
　　“什么呀？”荷米恩走过来了。 
　　“一分钟前你就在我们后面，一分钟后又在阶级下面了。” 
　　“什么？”荷米恩看上去有点迷惑，“哦，我刚才要回去拿东西，噢，不……” 
　　“你为什么总是带着这么多书？”罗恩问她。 
　　“你应该知道我有多少课上吧，”荷米恩喘着气说，“帮我拿着这些，行吗？” 
　　“但是——”罗恩翻着她递给他的书的封面说，“但是你今天没有这些科目呀。 
　　下午只是上黑巫术防御课。“ 
　　“噢，是的，”荷米恩模糊地说，但是她还是把书往书包里塞，“我希望今天中午有好吃的，我快饿坏了。”她加了一句，然后向大厅大步走去。 
　　“你觉得荷米恩隐瞒着我们什么吗？”罗恩问哈利。 
　　他们到课堂来上第一节黑巫术防御课，露平教授还未到，他们都坐下来，拿出书本、羽毛笔和羊皮纸后，就在那里谈话，直到教授进来课堂。露平教授微笑着放下他旧木箱在桌子上。他还是穿得那样蹩脚，他看上去比在火车时健康，好像吃过几顿大餐一样。 
　　“下午好，”他说，“请把书都放回书包里，今天上实践课。你们只用魔杖就行了。” 
　　大家都好奇地互相望望，然后把书都收起来，他们从没有上过黑巫术防御课的实践课的，除了去年那次难忘的课，那年老师拿了一笼小精灵来，并把他们放出来。 
　　“好了，”露平教授看到他们都弄好了就说，“请跟着我来。” 
　　大家都又疑又感兴趣地站起来，跟着露平教授走出课堂。他带领他们走过一条宁静的走廊，转过一个角，他们首先看到的是调皮鬼皮维斯，他正在半空中浮上浮下地用香口胶塞住一个个锁匙孔。 
　　直到露平教授距他两尺，他才抬起头，然后摆动他那弯曲的脚，放开喉咙唱起来。 
　　“笨蛋，笨蛋，露平，”皮维斯唱着，“笨蛋，笨蛋，露平，笨蛋，笨蛋，露平——” 
　　虽然皮维斯一直都是不正经又粗鲁，但他通常都很尊重老师的。 
　　大家都看着露平教授，看他怎样对待他。让大家奇怪的是，他仍然微笑着。 
　　“皮维斯，如果我是你，我宁愿把那香口糖拿出孔，”他和蔼地说，“费驰先生的扫帚是扫不到那里的。” 
　　费弛是霍格瓦彻的校监，他是一个脾气暴躁的巫师，经常跟学生吵起来，尤其是皮维斯，但是皮维斯没理会露平教授只是吹了一个响亮的口哨。 
　　露平教授轻轻地叹了口气，拿出一支魔杖。 
　　“这是有用的咒语，”他转过头来对学生说，“请仔细看好。” 
　　他把魔杖举到肩膀的高度，说，“和得卫士。”然后指向皮维斯。 
　　钥匙孔的那小块香口糖带着子弹般的速度飞出来，直接打在皮维斯的左鼻孔上，他旋转一下，然后骂着走开了。 
　　“老师，真厉害。”汤姆斯惊喜地说。 
　　“谢谢你，汤姆斯，”露平教授把魔杖移开，“我们开始了，好吗？” 
　　他们又向前走，他们都看着穿得破旧的露平教授、充满了敬佩。 
　　他领着他们走进第二条走廊然后停下来，就在教工室门外。 
　　“请进来。”露平教授打开门，站在外面说。 
　　这教工室是一间很长，嵌着窗格的房间，里面尽是旧和破的凳子。只有史纳皮教授教授坐在一张矮矮的扶手椅子上，看着这班同学走进来，他的眼睛发亮，嘴做出很蔑视的样子。露平教授走进来关上门的时候，史纳皮教授说，“它在衣柜里，露平，我不想留在这里。” 
　　他站起来，大步穿过这班学生，走到门口时他转身说：“可能没有人提醒你吧，露平，这班人中的尼维尔，我建议你你不要教他做准一点的事，除非让格林佐小姐在他耳朵小声地教他。” 
　　尼维尔脸红了，哈利瞪了史纳皮教授一眼，他在自己的课堂上欺负尼维尔已经够过分了，还要在其他老师面前这样做。 
　　露平教授的眉毛向上一抬。 
　　“我希望在第一阶段的手术上尼维尔可以帮帮我，”他说，“我敢肯定他会很出色的完成的。” 
　　尼维尔的脸更加红了，史纳皮教授扁扁嘴，但走开了，“砰”的一声关上门。 
　　“不要担心，”露平教授镇定地说，因为有几个同学被吓得后退几步，“那边有一个布格特。” 
　　大多数同学的确在担心有事发生，尼维尔惊恐地看了露平教授一眼，还有谢默斯忧虑地看着还在嘎嘎响的门。 
　　“布格特黑暗的空间，”露平教授说，“在衣柜里，床下的空隙，水槽下面的厨柜——我曾看它在我祖父的钟里过，而这只是昨天才拿到的，我问校长是否可以让我拿来给三年级学生上实践课。” 
　　“因此，我们首先要问自己，什么是布格特。” 
　　荷米恩举起手。 
　　“它是会变形的，”她说，“一定变成它认为最能吓倒我们的东西。” 
　　“让我来更仔细地讲讲，”露平教授说，荷米恩睁大眼睛，“所以，布格特在黑暗时并没有什么特定的形状的，他还不知道什么形状才能吓到门外那边的人，没有人知道布格特在单独的时候是什么形状的，但是一旦把他放出来，他立即就能变成最能吓倒我们的形状了。” 
　　“那意味着，”露平教授故意不理会尼维尔惊慌的样子说，“我们开始前比起布格特有一大优势，你看出来了吗，哈利？” 
　　哈利正想跟他身边的荷米恩回答这问题，但是荷术恩正在拍打她脚下的球，一幅茫然的样子，但是哈利想试一试。 
　　“嗯——因为我们人太多，它不知道怎样的形状才最恐怖？” 
　　“非常正确，”露平教授说，而荷米恩放下手，有点失望的样子，“当你要对付一只布格特的时候，最好找一个伴，他会糊途的，该用什么形状呢，一具无头的尸体还是吃人的蛞蝓呢？我曾见过一只布格特犯了一个大错——他想同时吓倒两个人而变成半条蛞蝓，谁知一点都不恐怖。” 
　　“战胜布格特有一个很简单的方法，但是要求意志力，你知道，布格特最怕的就是笑，你要努力去想一些你认为很搞笑的东西的形状。” 
　　“我们先用魔杖来实验一下，请跟着我……雷得克路斯！” 
　　“雷得克路斯！”全班一同说。 
　　“好，”露平教授说，“很好，但那只是很容易的一步。你们都知道，就这一句是不够的。而这里就需要你了，尼维尔。” 
　　那衣柜又摇了一下，虽然没有尼维尔摇得厉害，他正像走向地狱般地向前走来。 
　　“对了，尼维尔，”露平教授说，“首先，请你把你最怕的东西讲出来。” 
　　尼维尔的唇动了动，但没有声音出来。 
　　“尼维尔，对不起，你没听到吗？”露平教授兴高采烈地说。 
　　尼维尔畏惧地看着周围，好像在向谁求救一样，然后几乎像跟自己讲一样说，“史纳皮教授。” 
　　几乎所有人都笑了，就连尼维尔也不好意思地裂开嘴笑，但是，露平教授却是意味深长的样子。 
　　“史纳皮教授，嗨……尼维尔，我想，你跟你祖母一起住的？” 
　　“嗯——是的，”尼维尔紧张地说，“但是，我也不想布格持变成她的样子。” 
　　“不，不，你误会找了，”露平教授微笑地说，“我在想，你可以告诉大家你祖母通常穿什么样的衣服吗？” 
　　尼维尔看上去有很惊恐，但他说，“哦……总是那顶帽，一项高高的，上面有一支羽毛笔的帽，还有一件长长的衣服，通常是青色的……还有有时候戴狐狸毛的围巾。” 
　　“还有一个手袋？”露平教授提醒说。 
　　“一个红色的手袋。”尼维尔说。 
　　“那就对了，”露平教授说，“你可以想出那些衣服吗？尼维尔，你可以在脑海中看到那些衣服吗？” 
　　“是的，”尼维尔不太肯定地说，在想下步会怎么样。 
　　“当布格特从衣柜里跳出来看到你时，尼维尔，它会变成史纳皮教授的样子。” 
　　露平说，“你就抬起你的魔杖——这样——然后大喊，‘雷得克路斯’。——然后努力想你祖母的衣服，如果做得好，史纳皮教授就会被迫变成那羽毛笔顶的帽，青色的衣服，那红色的手袋。” 
　　一阵大笑传来了，衣柜强烈地摆动着。 
　　“如果尼维尔成功了，布格特很可能把注意力转向我们，”露平教授说，“我想你们都来想想什么最容易吓倒你们，然后想想怎么样才能使它看上去搞笑点……” 
　　房间安静下来了，哈利想……什么最能吓到他呢？ 
　　他首先想到福尔的摩特，一个充满力量的福尔的摩特，但是他还未想怎样对付福尔的摩特时，一个恐怖的头像在他脑海出现了…… 
　　一只腐烂的，发光的手，滑进大衣下面……在无形的口里面的长长的，嘎嘎响的呼吸。……像要溺死的刺骨的寒意…… 
　　哈利打了个战颤，然后向四周看看，希望没有人注意到他，很多人都紧闭上眼睛，罗恩在自言自语，“八只脚，”哈利很肯定知道他在想什么，罗恩最怕的是蜘蛛。 
　　“都好了吗？”露平教授问。 
　　哈利突然慌，他还没准备好呢，怎样才让一个得蒙特不那么吓人呢？但他不想叫教授等等，所有人都点点头，然后卷起衣袖。 
　　“尼维尔，我们要开始了，”露平教授说，“让开一点，好吗？我叫下一个人跟着，你们先后退，好了，让尼维尔有空间准备。” 
　　他们都后退了，靠墙站着，让尼维尔一个人对着衣柜，他脸色苍白，害怕极了，但他已经卷起袖子举起魔杖。 
　　“尼维尔，我要数三下，”露平教授用魔杖指着衣柜的把手，“一——二——三——出来！” 
　　露平教授的魔杖端发出砰的一声音，衣柜裂开了。带着弯弯鼻子的史纳皮教授走出来了，他的眼睛在尼维尔身上扫来扫去。 
　　尼维尔退后了一步，他举着魔杖，张开嘴说不出话来，史纳皮教授向他逼近，手伸向他的衣服。 
　　“雷——雷——雷得克路斯！”尼维尔大声喊。 
　　一阵鞭子抽打的声音传来，史纳皮教授绊了一下，他现在穿着一件长长的，吊着带子的衣服，一顶高高的帽子，上面有一支吃飞蛾的鹰的毛，他手上吊着一个大大的红色的手袋。 
　　大家疯狂地笑着，尼维尔迷惑地顿了一下，露平教授大声喊，“帕维提，向前走。” 
　　帕维提向前走了几步，她的脸凝住了，史纳皮教授向她转过身，又传来砰的一声，他变成了～具滴着血缠着绷带的木乃伊，模糊不清的股转向帐维提，然后一步一步向她逼近，它的手抬起来，——“雷得克路斯！”帕维提说。 
　　一条绷带绊住那木乃伊的脚，它绊倒了，脸向前，头滚了出去。 
　　“谢默斯！”露平教授说。 
　　谢默斯迅速赶过帕维提。 
　　砰！然后那木乃伊变成了一个头发垂到地上的女人，一个露骨的青色的脸——一个女妖精，她的嘴张得很大，怪异的声音传遍了整个房间，延长的惨哭声让哈利的头发都竖起来了。 
　　“雷得克路斯！”谢默斯大喊。 
　　那女妖精发出刺耳的声音，用手拧着喉咙，她的声音忽然消失了。 
　　砰！那女妖精变成一只老鼠，转着圈在追逐自己的尾巴，然后——一砰！——变成一条响尾蛇，在前面爬动，盘缠着，砰！成了一个带血的眼球。 
　　“够了，”露平喊，“汤姆斯，你继续。” 
　　汤姆斯迅速走上去。 
　　砰！那眼球变成一只可怜的手，在地上滑动着，开始像一只蟹一般爬。 
　　“雷得克路斯！”汤姆斯大喊。 
　　一声爆裂的声响，那只手变成一个捕鼠器。 
　　“太好了，罗恩，你跟着。” 
　　罗恩向前跃。 
　　砰！ 
　　很多人都尖叫起来，是一只大蜘蛛，六尺高，装满了毛，一直向罗恩走过去，那蜘蛛脚很恐怖地爬动着，好一会儿，哈利以为罗恩呆了，然后——“雷得克路斯！” 
　　罗恩大喊，蜘蛛的腿不见了，它一直地滚着，拉温德。布朗尖叫着跑开了，它滚到哈利脚边停下来。他举起魔杖，准备着，但是——“这里！”露平教授突然大声说，立即向前走。 
　　砰！ 
　　没有脚的蜘蛛不见了。好一会儿，大家都在看它去了哪里，然后大家看到一个银白色的球在露平前面出现。露平也在念着“雷得克路斯。” 
　　砰！ 
　　“向前走，尼维尔，把它收拾！”露平说着。这时候，布格特在地上变成了一只蟑螂，砰！史纳皮教授又出现了，这次尼维尔坚定地向前走向他。 
　　“雷得克路斯！”他大喊，一刹那间，史纳皮教授又穿上那搞笑的衣服。尼维尔刚刚发出“哈”一声大笑，布格特爆开，成为成千上万个小小的烟缕，然后消失了。 
　　“很好！”露平教授大喊，全班都鼓起掌声，“非常好，尼维尔做得很好，同学们，让我看……给处理过布格特的每个人加五分，给尼维尔加十分，因为他做了两次，还有荷米恩和哈利各五分。” 
　　“但是我都没做些什么。”哈利说。 
　　“你和荷米恩在开始上课时正确地回答了我的问题了，哈利。”露平轻轻地说，“很好，同学们，这节课上得很好，功课是认真读关于布格特的章节，给我总结一下……星期一交上来，下课！” 
　　同学们一边高兴地说话一边离开职工室，但是哈利却不是很高兴。露平教授故意避免让他玩布格特，因为什么呢？是因为他曾见到哈利在火车上晕倒了，怕他承受不了？他怕哈利又晕倒？ 
　　但其他人都没有注意到些什么。 
　　“你看到女妖精吗？”谢默斯大声喊。 
　　“还有那只手！”汤姆斯挥着自己的手说。 
　　“还有史纳皮教授的帽子！” 
　　“还有那木乃伊！” 
　　“真奇怪怎么露平教授害怕那晶莹的小球呢？”拉温德深思般说道。 
　　“那是我上过的防黑巫术御最高兴的一节了，是吗？”罗恩在回课室拿书包的路上兴奋地说。 
　　“他的确是一位很好的老师，”荷米恩赞许地说，“但我真希望也轮到我玩玩那布格特——” 
　　“那会是什么呢？”罗恩吃吃地笑着说，“是功课以十分为满分你拿了九分？” 
Chapter 8 Flight Of The Fat Lady
In no time at all, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become most people's favorite class. Only Draco Malfoy and his gang of Slytherins had anything bad to say about Professor Lupin. 
“Look at the state of his robes,” Malfoy would say in a loud whisper as Professor Lupin passed. “He dresses like our old house elf.” 
But no one else cared that Professor Lupin's robes were patched and frayed. His next few lessons were just as interesting as the first. After Boggarts, they studied Red Caps, nasty little goblin-like creatures that lurked wherever there had been bloodshed: in the dungeons of castles and the potholes of deserted battlefields, waiting to bludgeon those who had gotten lost. From Red Caps they moved on to Kappas, creepy. water-dwellers that looked like scaly monkeys, with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting waders in their ponds. 
Harry only wished he was as happy with some of his other classes. Worst of all was Potions. Snape was in a particularly vindictive mood these days, and no one was in any doubt why. The story of the Boggart assuming Snape's shape, and the way that Neville had dressed it in his grandmother's clothes, had traveled through the school like wildfire. Snape didn't seem to find it funny. His eyes flashed menacingly at the very mention of Professor Lupin's name, and he was bullying Neville worse than ever. 
Harry was also growing to dread the hours he spent in Professor Trelawney's stifling tower room, deciphering lopsided shapes and symbols, trying to ignore the way Professor Trelawney's enormous eyes filled with tears every time she looked at him. He couldn't like Professor Trelawney, even though she was treated with respect bordering on reverence by many of the class. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown had taken to haunting Professor Trelawney's tower room at lunch times, and always returned with annoyingly superior looks on their faces, as though they knew things the others didn't. They had also started using hushed voices whenever they spoke to Harry, as though he were on his deathbed. 
Nobody really liked Care of Magical Creatures, which, after the action-packed first class, had become extremely dull. Hagrid seemed to have lost his confidence. They were now spending lesson after lesson learning how to look after flobberworms, which had to be some of the most boring creatures in existence. 
“Why would anyone bother looking after them?” said Ron, after yet another hour of poking shredded lettuce down the flobberworms’ throats. 
At the start of October, however, Harry had something else to occupy him, something so enjoyable it more than made up for his unsatisfactory classes. The Quidditch season was approaching, and O1iver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor team, called a meeting on Thursday evening to discuss tactics for the new season. 
There were seven people on a Quidditch team: three Chasers, whose job it was to score goals by putting the Quaffle (a red, soccer-sized ball) through one of the fifty-foot-high hoops at each end of the field; two Beaters, who were equipped with heavy bats to repel the Bludgers (two heavy black balls that zoomed around trying to attack the players); a Keeper, who defended the goal posts, and the Seeker, who had the hardest job of all, that of catching the Golden Snitch, a tiny, winged, walnut-sized ball, whose capture ended the game and earned the Seeker's team an extra one hundred and fifty points. 
Oliver Wood was a burly seventeen-year-old, now in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts. There was a quiet sort of desperation in his voice as he addressed his six fellow team members in the chilly locker rooms on the edge of the darkening Quidditch field. 
“This is our last chance — my last chance — to win the Quidditch Cup,” he told them, striding up and down in front of them. “I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it.” 
“Gryffindor hasn't won for seven years now. Okay, so we've had the worst luck in the world — injuries — then the tournament getting called off last year.” Wood swallowed, as though the memory still brought a lump to his throat. “But we also know we've got the best — ruddy — team — in — the — school,” he said, punching a fist into his other hand, the old manic glint back in his eye. “We've got three superb Chasers.” 
Wood pointed at Alicia Spinner, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell. 
“We've got two unbeatable Beaters.” 
“Stop it, Oliver, you're embarrassing us,” said Fred and George Weasley together, pretending to blush. 
“And we've got a Seeker who has never failed to win us a match!” Wood rumbled, glaring at Harry with a kind of furious pride. “And me,” he added as an afterthought. 
“We think you're very good too, Oliver,” said George. 
“Spanking good Keeper,” said Fred. 
“The point is,” Wood went on, resuming his pacing, “the Quidditch Cup should have had our name on it these last two years. Ever since Harry joined the team, I've thought the thing was in the bag. But we haven't got it, and this year's the last chance we'll get to finally see our name on the thing…” 
Wood spoke so dejectedly that even Fred and George looked sympathetic. 
“Oliver, this year's our year,” said Fred. 
“We'll do it, Oliver!” said Angelina. 
“Definitely,” said Harry. 
Full of determination, the team started training sessions, three evenings a week. The weather was getting colder and wetter, the nights darker, but no amount of mud, wind, or rain could tarnish Harry's wonderful vision of finally winning the huge, silver Quidditch Cup. 
Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room one evening after training, cold and stiff but pleased with the way practice had gone, to find the room buzzing excitedly. 
“What's happened?”, he asked Ron and Hermione, who were sitting in two of the best chairs by the fireside and completing some star charts for Astronomy. 
“First Hogsmeade weekend,” said Ron, pointing at a notice that had appeared on the battered old bulletin board. “End of October. Halloween.” 
“Excellent,” said Fred, who had followed Harry through the portrait hole. “I need to visit Zonko's. I'm nearly out of Stink Pellets.” 
Harry threw himself into a chair beside Ron, his high spirits ebbing away. Hermione seemed to read his mind. 
“Harry, I'm sure you'll be able to go next time,” she said. “They're bound to catch Black soon. He's been sighted once already.” 
“Black's not fool enough to try anything in Hogsmeade,” said Ron. “Ask McGonagall if you can go this time, Harry. The next one might not be for ages —” 
“Ron!” said Hermione. “Harry's supposed to stay in school —” 
“He can't be the only third year left behind,” said Ron. “Ask McGonagall, go on, Harry —” 
“Yeah, I think I will,” said Harry, making up his mind. 
Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but at that moment Crookshanks leapt lightly onto her lap. A large, dead spider was dangling from his mouth. 
“Does he have to eat that in front of us?” said Ron, scowling. 
“Clever Crookshanks, did you catch that all by yourself?” said Hermione. 
Crookshanks; slowly chewed up the spider, his yellow eyes fixed insolently on Ron. 
“Just keep him over there, that's all,” said Ron irritably, turning back to his star chart. “I've got Scabbers asleep in my bag.” 
Harry yawned. He really wanted to go to bed, but he still had his own star chart to complete. He pulled his bag toward him, took out parchment, ink, and quill, and started work. 
“You can copy mine, if you like,” said Ron, labeling his last star with a flourish and shoving the chart toward Harry. 
Hermione, who disapproved of copying, pursed her lips but didn't say anything. Crookshanks was still staring unblinkingly at Ron, flicking the end of his bushy tail. Then, without warning, he pounced. 
“OY!” Ron roared, seizing his bag as Crookshanks sank four sets of claws deep inside it and began tearing ferociously. “GET OFF, YOU STUPID ANIMAL!” 
Ron tried to pull the bag away from Crookshanks, but Crookshanks clung on, spitting and slashing. 
“Ron, don't hurt him!” squealed Hermione; the whole common room was watching; Ron whirled the bag around, Crookshanks still clinging to it, and Scabbers came flying out of the top — 
“CATCH THAT CAT!” Ron yelled as Crookshanks freed himself from the remnants of the bag, sprang over the table, and chased after the terrified Scabbers. 
George Weasley made a lunge for Crookshanks but missed; Scabbers streaked through twenty pairs of legs and shot beneath an old chest of drawers. Crookshanks skidded to a halt, crouched low on his bandy legs, and started making furious swipes beneath it with his front paw. 
Ron and Hermione hurried over; Hermione grabbed Crookshanks around the middle and heaved him away; Ron threw himself onto his stomach and, with great difficulty, pulled Scabbers out by the tail. 
“Look at him!” he said furiously to Hermione, dangling Scabbers in front of her. “He's skin and bone! You keep that cat away from him!” 
“Crookshanks doesn't understand it's wrong!” said Hermione, her voice shaking. “All cats chase rats, Ron!” 
“There's something funny about that animal!” said Ron, who was trying to persuade a frantically wiggling Scabbers back into his pocket. “It heard me say that Scabbers was in my bag!” 
“Oh, what rubbish,” said Hermione impatiently. “Crookshanks could smell him, Ron, how else d'you think —” 
“That cat's got it in for Scabbers!” said Ron, ignoring the people around him, who were starting to giggle. “And Scabbers was here first, and he's ill!” 
Ron marched through the common room and out of sight up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories. 　　　　*
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　* 
Ron was still in a bad mood with Hermione next day. He barely talked to her all through Herbology, even though he, Harry, and Hermione were working together on the same Puffapod. 
“How's Scabbers?” Hermione asked timidly as they stripped fat pink pods from the plants and emptied the shining beans into a wooden pail. 
“He's hiding at the bottom of my bed, shaking,” said Ron angrily, missing the pail and scattering beans over the greenhouse floor. 
“Careful, Weasley, careful!” cried Professor Sprout as the beans burst into bloom before their very eyes. 
They had Transfiguration next. Harry, who had resolved to ask Professor McGonagall after the lesson whether he could go into Hogsmeade with the rest, joined the line outside the class trying to decide how he was going to argue his case. He was distracted, however, by a disturbance at the front of the line. 
Lavender Brown seemed to be crying. Parvati had her arm around her and was explaining something to Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were looking very serious. 
“What's the matter, Lavender?” said Hermione anxiously as she, Harry, and Ron went to join the group. 
“She got a letter from home this morning,” Parvati whispered. “It's her rabbit, Binky. He's been killed by a fox.” 
“Oh,” said Hermione, “I'm sorry, Lavender.” 
“I should have known!” said Lavender tragically. “You know what day it is?” 
“Er —” 
“The sixteenth of October! ‘That thing you're dreading, it will happen on the sixteenth of October!’ Remember? She was right, she was right!” 
The whole class was gathered around Lavender now. Seamus shook his head seriously. Hermione hesitated; then she said, “You — you were dreading Binky being killed by a fox?” 
“Well, not necessarily by a fox,” said Lavender, looking up at Hermione with streaming eyes, “but I was obviously dreading him dying, wasn't I?” 
“Oh,” said Hermione. She paused again. Then — 
“Was Binky an old rabbit?” 
“N — no!” sobbed Lavender. “H — he was only a baby!” 
Parvati tightened her arm around Lavender's shoulders. 
“But then, why would you dread him dying?” said Hermione. 
Parvati glared at her. 
“Well, look at it logically,” said Hermione, turning to the rest of the group. “I mean, Binky didn't even die today, did he? Lavender just got the news today —” Lavender wailed loudly. “– and she can't have been dreading it, because it's come as a real shock —” 
“Don't mind Hermione, Lavender,” said Ron loudly, “she doesn't think other people's pets matter very much.” 
Professor McGonagall opened the classroom door at that moment, which was perhaps lucky; Hermione and Ron were looking daggers at each other, and when they got into class, they seated themselves on either side of Harry and didn't talk to each other for the whole class. 
Harry still hadn't decided what he was going to say to Professor McGonagall when the bell rang at the end of the lesson, but it was she who brought up the subject of Hogsmeade first. 
“One moment, please!” she called as the class made to leave. “As you're all in my House, you should hand Hogsmeade permission forms to me before Halloween. No form, no visiting the village, so don't forget!” 
Neville put up his hand. 
“Please, Professor, I — I think I've lost —” 
“Your grandmother sent yours to me directly, Longbottom,” said Professor McGonagall. “She seemed to think it was safer. Well, that's all, you may leave.” 
“Ask her now,” Ron hissed at Harry. 
“Oh. but —” Hermione began. 
“Go for it, Harry,” said Ron stubbornly. 
Harry waited for the rest of the class to disappear, then headed nervously for Professor McGonagall's desk. 
“Yes, Potter?” Harry took a deep breath. 
“Professor, my aunt and uncle — er — forgot to sign my form,” he said. 
Professor McGonagall looked over her square spectacles at him but didn't say anything. 
“So — er — d'you think it would be all right mean, will It be okay if I — if I go to Hogsmeade?” 
Professor McGonagall looked down and began shuffling papers on her desk. 
“I'm afraid not, Potter,” she said. “You heard what I said. No form, no visiting the village. That's the rule.” 
“But — Professor, my aunt and uncle — you know, they're Muggles, they don't really understand about — about Hogwarts forms and stuff,” Harry said, while Ron egged him on with vigorous nods. “If you said I could go —” 
“But I don't say so,” said Professor McGonagall, standing up and piling her papers neatly into a drawer. “The form clearly states that the parent or guardian must give permission.” She turned to look at him, with an odd expression on her face. Was it pity? “I'm sorry, Potter, but that's my final word. You had better hurry, or you'll be late for your next lesson.” 
There was nothing to be done. Ron called Professor McGonagall a lot of names that greatly annoyed Hermione; Hermione assumed an ‘all-for-the-best’ expression that made Ron even angrier, and Harry had to endure everyone in the class talking loudly and happily about what they were going to do first, once they got into Hogsmeade. 
“There's always the feast,” said Ron, in an effort to cheer Harry up. “You know, the Halloween feast, in the evening.” 
“Yeah,” said Harry gloomily, “great.” 
The Halloween feast was always good, but it would taste a lot better if he was coming to it after a day in Hogsmeade with everyone else. Nothing anyone said made him feel any better about being left behind. Dean Thomas, who was good with a quill, had offered to forge Uncle Vernon's signature on the form, but as Harry had already told Professor McGonagall he hadn't had it signed, that was no good. Ron halfheartedly suggested the Invisibility Cloak, but Hermione stamped on that one, reminding Ron what Dumbledore had told them about the Dementors being able to see through them. Percy had what were possibly the least helpful words of comfort. 
“They make a fuss about Hogsmeade, but I assure you, Harry, it's not all it's cracked up to be,” he said seriously. “All right, the sweetshop's rather good, and Zonko's Joke Shop's frankly dangerous, and yes, the Shrieking Shack's always worth a visit, but really, Harry, apart from that, you're not missing anything.” 
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　* 
On Halloween morning, Harry awoke with the rest and went down to breakfast, feeling thoroughly depressed, though doing his best to act normally. 
“We'll bring you lots of sweets back from Honeydukes,” said Hermione, looking desperately sorry for him. 
“Yeah, loads,” said Ron. He and Hermione had finally forgotten their squabble about Crookshanks in the face of Harry's difficulties. 
“Don't worry about me,” said Harry, in what he hoped was at, offhand voice, “I'll see you at the feast. Have a good time.” 
He accompanied them to the entrance hall, where Filch, the caretaker, was standing inside the front doors, checking off names against a long list, peering suspiciously into every face, and making sure that no one was sneaking out who shouldn't be going. 
“Staying here, Potter?” shouted Malfoy, who was standing in line with Crabbe and Goyle. “Scared of passing the Dementors?” 
Harry ignored him and made his solitary way up the marble staircase, through the deserted corridors, and back to Gryffindor Tower. 
“Password?” said the Fat Lady, jerking out of a doze. 
“Fortuna Major,” said Harry listlessly. 
The portrait swung open and he climbed through the hole into the common room. It was full of chattering first-and second-years, and a few older students, who had obviously visited Hogsmeade so often the novelty had worn off. 
“Harry! Harry! Hi, Harry!” 
It was Colin Creevey, a second year who was deeply in awe of Harry and never missed an opportunity to speak to him. 
“Aren't you going to Hogsmeade, Harry? Why not? Hey —” Colin looked eagerly around at his friends — “you can come and sit with us, if you like, Harry!” 
“Er — no, thanks, Colin,” said Harry, who wasn't in the mood to have a lot of people staring avidly at the scar on his forehead. “I — I've got to go to the library, got to get some work done.” 
After that, he had no choice but to turn right around and head back out of the portrait hole again. 
“What was the point of waking me up?” the Fat Lady called grumpily after him as he walked away. 
Harry wandered dispiritedly toward the library, but halfway there he changed his mind; he didn't feel like working. He turned around and came face-to-face with Filch, who had obviously just seen off the last of the Hogsmeade visitors. 
“What are you doing?” Filch snarled suspiciously. 
“Nothing,” said Harry truthfully. 
“Nothing!” spat Filch, his jowls quivering unpleasantly. “A likely story! Sneaking around on your own — why aren't you in Hogsmeade buying Stink Pellets and Belch Powder and Whizzing Worms like the rest of your nasty little friends?” 
Harry shrugged. 
“Well, get back to your common room where you belong!” snapped Filch, and he stood glaring until Harry had passed out of sight. 
But Harry didn't go back to the common room; he climbed a staircase, thinking vaguely of visiting the Owlery to see Hedwig, and was walking along another corridor when a voice from inside one of the rooms said, “Harry?” 
Harry doubled back to see who had spoken and met Professor Lupin, looking around his office door. 
“What are you doing?” said Lupin, though in a very different voice from Filch. “Where are Ron and Hermione?” 
“Hogsmeade,” said Harry, in a would-be casual voice. 
“Ah,” said Lupin. He considered Harry for a moment. “Why don't you come in? I've just taken delivery of a Grindylow for our next lesson.” 
“A what?” said Harry. 
He followed Lupin into his office. In the corner stood a very large tank of water. A sickly green creature with sharp little horns had its face pressed against the glass, pulling faces and flexing its long, spindly fingers. 
“Water demon,” said Lupin, surveying the Grindylow thoughtfully. “We shouldn't have much difficulty with him, not after the Kappas. The trick is to break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very brittle.” 
The Grindylow bared its green teeth and then buried itself in a tangle of weeds in a corner. 
“Cup of tea?” Lupin said, looking around for his kettle. “I was just thinking of making one.” 
“All right,” said Harry awkwardly. 
Lupin tapped the kettle with his wand and a blast of steam issued suddenly from the spout. 
“Sit down,” said Lupin, taking the lid off a dusty tin. “I've only got teabags, I'm afraid — but I daresay you've had enough of tea leaves?” 
Harry looked at him. Lupin's eyes were twinkling. 
“How did you know about that?” Harry asked. 
“Professor McGonagall told me,” said Lupin, passing Harry a chipped mug of tea. “You're not worried, are you?” 
“No,” said Harry. 
He thought for a moment of telling Lupin about the dog he'd seen in Magnolia Crescent but decided not to. He didn't want Lupin to think he was a coward, especially since Lupin already seemed to think he couldn't cope with a Boggart. 
Something of Harry's thoughts seemed to have shown on his face, because Lupin said, “Anything worrying you, Harry?” 
“No,” Harry lied. He drank a bit of tea and watched the Grindylow brandishing a fist at him. “Yes,” he said suddenly, putting his tea down on Lupin's desk. “You know that day we fought the Boggart?” 
“Yes,” said Lupin slowly. 
“Why didn't you let me fight it?” said Harry abruptly. 
Lupin raised his eyebrows. 
“I would have thought that was obvious, Harry,” he said, sounding surprised. 
Harry, who had expected Lupin to deny that he'd done any such thing, was taken aback. 
“Why?” he said again. 
“Well,” said Lupin, frowning slightly, “I assumed that if the Boggart faced you, it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort.” 
Harry stared. Not only was this the last answer he'd expected, but Lupin had said Voldemort's name. The only person Harry had ever heard say the name aloud (apart from himself) was Professor Dumbledore. 
“Clearly, I was wrong,” said Lupin, still frowning at Harry. “But I didn't think it a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialize in the staffroom. I imagined that people would panic.” 
“I didn't think of Voldemort,” said Harry honestly. “I — I remembered those Dementors.” 
“I see,” said Lupin thoughtfully. “Well, well…I'm impressed.” He smiled slightly at the look of surprise on Harry's face. “That suggests that what you fear most of all is — fear. Very wise, Harry.” 
Harry didn't know what to say to that, so he drank some more tea. 
“So you've been thinking that I didn't believe you capable of fighting the Boggart?” said Lupin shrewdly. 
“Well…yeah,” said Harry. He was suddenly feeling a lot happier. “Professor Lupin, you know the Dementors —” 
He was interrupted by a knock on the door. 
“Come in,” called Lupin. 
The door opened, and in came Snape. He was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Harry, his black eyes narrowing. 
“Ah, Severus,” said Lupin, smiling. “Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?” 
Snape set down the smoking goblet, his eyes wandering between Harry and Lupin. 
“I was just showing Harry my Grindylow,” said Lupin pleasantly, pointing at the tank. 
“Fascinating,” said Snape, without looking at it. “You should drink that directly, Lupin.” 
“Yes, Yes, I will,” said Lupin. 
“I made an entire cauldronful,” Snape continued. “If you need more.” 
“I should probably have some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus.” 
“Not at all,” said Snape, but there was a look in his eye Harry didn't like. He backed out of the room, unsmiling and watchful. 
Harry looked curiously at the goblet. Lupin smiled. 
“Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for me,” he said. “I have never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex.” He picked up the goblet and sniffed it. “Pity sugar makes it useless,” he added, taking a sip and shuddering. 
“Why —?” Harry began. Lupin looked at him and answered the unfinished question. 
“I've been feeling a bit off-color,” he said. “This potion is the only thing that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape; there aren't many wizards who are up to making it.” 
Professor Lupin took another sip and Harry had a crazy urge to knock the goblet out of his hands. 
“Professor Snape's very interested in the Dark Arts,” he blurted out. 
“Really?” said Lupin, looking only mildly interested as he took another gulp of potion. 
“Some people reckon —” Harry hesitated, then plunged recklessly on, “some people reckon he'd do anything to get the Defense Against the Dark Arts job.” 
Lupin drained the goblet and pulled a face. 
“Disgusting,” he said. “Well, Harry, I'd better get back to work. See you at the feast later.” 
“Right,” said Harry, putting down his empty teacup. 
The empty goblet was still smoking. 
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　* 
“There you go,” said Ron. “We got as much as we could carry.” 
A shower of brilliantly colored sweets fell into Harry's lap. It was dusk, and Ron and Hermione had just turned up in the common room, pink-faced from the cold wind and looking as though they'd had the time of their lives. 
“Thanks,” said Harry, picking up a packet of tiny black Pepper Imps. “What's Hogsmeade like? Where did you go?” 
By the sound of it — everywhere. Dervish and Banges, the wizarding equipment shop, Zonko's Joke Shop, into the Three Broomsticks for foaming mugs of hot butterbeer, and many places besides. 
“The post office, Harry! About two hundred owls, all sitting on shelves, all color-coded depending on how fast you want your letter to get there!” 
“Honeydukes has got a new kind of fudge; they were giving out free samples, there's a bit, look —” 
“We think we saw an ogre, honestly, they get all sorts at the Three Broomsticks —” 
“Wish we could have brought you some butterbeer, really warms you up —” 
“What did you do?” said Hermione, looking anxious. “Did you get any work done?” 
“No,” said Harry. “Lupin made me a cup of tea in his office. And then Snape came in…” 
He told them all about the goblet. Ron's mouth fell open. 
“Lupin drank it?” he gasped. “Is he mad?” 
Hermione checked her watch. 
“We'd better go down, you know, the feast'll be starting in five minutes They hurried through the portrait hole and into the crowd, still discussing Snape. 
“But if he — you know —” Hermione dropped her voice, glancing nervously around, “if he was trying to — to poison Lupin — he wouldn't have done it in front of Harry.” 
“Yeah, maybe,” said Harry as they reached the entrance hall and crossed into the Great Hall. It had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats, and many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the stormy ceiling like brilliant watersnakes. 
The food was delicious; even Hermione and Ron, who were full to bursting with Honeydukes sweets, managed second helpings of everything. Harry kept glancing at the staff table. Professor Lupin looked cheerful and as well as he ever did; he was talking animatedly to tiny little Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher. Harry moved his eyes along the table, to the place where Snape sat. Was he imagining it, or were Snape's eyes flickering toward Lupin more often than was natural? 
The feast finished with an entertainment provided by the Hogwarts ghosts. They popped out of the walls and tables to do a bit of formation gliding; Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had a great success with a reenactment of his own botched beheading. 
It had been such a pleasant evening that Harry's good mood couldn't even be spoiled by Malfoy, who shouted through the crowd as they all left the hall, “The Dementors send their love, Potter!” 
Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed the rest of the Gryffindors along the usual path to Gryffindor Tower, but when they reached the corridor that ended with the portrait of the Fat Lady, they found it jammed with students. 
“Why isn't anyone going in?” said Ron curiously. 
Harry peered over the heads in front of him. The portrait seemed to be closed. 
“Let me through, please,” came Percy's voice, and he came bustling importantly through the crowd. “What's the holdup here? You can't all have forgotten the password — excuse me, I'm Head Boy —” 
And then a silence fell over the crowd, from the front first, so that a chill seemed to spread down the corridor. They heard Percy say, in a suddenly sharp voice, “Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick.” 
People's heads turned; those at the back were standing on tiptoe. 
“What's going on?” said Ginny, who had just arrived. 
A moment later, Professor Dumbledore was there, sweeping toward the portrait; the Gryffindors squeezed together to let him through, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione moved closer to see what the trouble was. 
“Oh, my —” Hermione grabbed Harry's arm. 
The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait, which had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely. Dumbledore took one quick look at the ruined painting and turned, his eyes somber, to see Professors McGonagall, Lupin, and Snape hurrying toward him. 
“We need to find her,” said Dumbledore. “Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady.” 
“You'll be lucky!” said a cackling voice. 
It was Peeves the Poltergeist, bobbing over the crowd and looking delighted, as he always did, at the sight of wreckage or worry. 
“What do you mean, Peeves?” said Dumbledore calmly, and Peeves's grin faded a little. He didn't dare taunt Dumbledore. Instead he adopted an oily voice that was no better than his cackle. “Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful,” he said happily. “Poor thing.” he added unconvincingly. 
“Did she say who did it?” said Dumbledore quietly. 
“Oh yes, Professorhead,” said Peeves, with the air of one cradling a large bombshell in his arms. “He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see.” Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore from between his own legs. “Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black.” 
立即，黑巫术防御课成了大部分同学最喜欢的课了，只有马尔夫和史林德林那伙人说露平教授的坏话。 
　　“看他的衣服，”马尔夫看到露平教授走过时会大声地说，“他穿得像我们房子里的矮人。” 
　　但是没有人注意露平教授的衣服又有补丁，他后面几节课跟第一节一样有趣，学完布格特，他们学红帽子，那是像妖怪一样的动物，依附在城堡的地牢里，在战场上荒废的地孔里，等着迷失的人的出现。学了红帽子后他们开始学卡布狮，是水中很滑的动物，看上去像怪异的猴子，手像一张网，把水塘边陌生的跋涉者拖进水里面。 
　　哈利希望每一节课都有趣，但最差的是上药剂课。史纳皮教授这些日子都是满脸仇恨的样子，但谁都知道为什么，布格特变成史纳皮教授的事，还有尼维尔所想到的他祖母的衣服，已经像野火一样传遍了全校，史纳皮教授一点都不觉得有趣，每听到露平教授的名字他的眼睛都恶毒地闪着，还有他更加残酷地欺负尼维尔。 
　　哈利也开始讨厌特雷络尼教授那让人窒息的课，他努力地辨认那些奇异的形状和文字，避开特雷络尼教授每次看他都充满泪水的眼睛，她在班上很受大家的尊敬，帕维提。帕提和拉温德。布朗经常在午餐的时间逗留在特雷络尼教授的课室里，然后总是带着高傲的表情回来，好像学了很多别人不懂的东西一样。他们跟哈利说话的时候也总是用悲哀的语调，好像哈利已经躺在病床上快要死去一样。 
　　没有人真正喜欢上魔法动物这门课，自从第一节课发生事故后，课程一直都非常闷，哈格力看上去好像已经失去信心了，他们现在花很多时间学习怎样照顾好弗来毕蚕，那可是世界上最令人烦闷的动物。 
　　“谁会照顾它们呀！”罗恩说，他已经又花了一个小时用莴苣喂弗来毕蚕。 
　　十月到了，哈利终于有事要干了，他可以在不喜欢的课做一些喜欢做的事，快迪斯赛就要到了，格利芬顿队的队长奥里沃。伍德在星期二晚上召集队员开会商量战略。 
　　快迪斯队有七个人，三个捕手，他们要做的就是把可尔夫球（一个红色的，像足球般大的足球）放进球场两边都有的五十尺高的筐里面，两个后卫，他们的工作就是保护其他队员不被布鲁佐球撞下来，还要用它们打击对方球员。一个守门员，是用来守着球筐，还有一个搜索者，这游戏最难的角色，就是去接史尼斯球——长着翅膀的，微小的，核桃般大的球，找到了游戏就结束，并为搜索者那队加一百五十分。 
　　奥里沃。伍德是一个十七岁的结实的小伙子，他现在霍格瓦彻读七年级也就是最后一年了。他们在黑暗的球场边的寒冷课室里集中。奥里沃对他六个队员谈话的时声音里有点绝望。 
　　“这是我们最后的机会了——我最后的机会了，要拿冠军杯。”他在他们前前后后踱着步时跟他们说，“我在今年年底就离开，我永远也没有机会再打了。” 
　　“已经整整七年没有赢过了，我们是最不幸的了，又有人受伤，——去年的锦标赛又没得举行……”伍德说不下去了，他的回忆像是把他的喉咙塞住一样。“但我们是学校里最好的队。”他说，把拳头捶向另一只手，一向的狂躁又在他的眼睛闪动着。 
　　“我们有三个极好的捕手。” 
　　伍德指向艾丽斯亚。斯宾那，安格莉娜。琼瑟和凯特。比利。 
　　“我们有打不倒的后卫。” 
　　“不要这样吧，奥里沃，你让我们觉得难为情。”弗来德和乔治假装脸红地说。 
　　“还有，我们有一个一定会赢的搜索者，”伍德大声说，他用一种狂热的骄傲盯着哈利，“还有我。”他想了想加上这句。 
　　“我们都认为你非常好，奥里沃。”乔治说。 
　　“最厉害的守门员。”弗来德说。 
　　“问题是，”伍德继续踱着，继续说，“快迪斯冠军杯在这年里会有我们的名字的。自从哈利加入我们队后，我就认为金杯就在我们的袋子里，但我们还未拿到手，这次是最后的机会了，我们会在上面见到我们的名字的……” 
　　伍德那样萎靡地说着，连弗来德和乔治都同情地看着他。 
　　“奥里沃，今年是我们的。‘佛来德说。 
　　“我们会赢的，奥里沃！”安格莉娜说。 
　　“肯定的。”哈利说。 
　　这支队充满决心的球队开始训练了，一个星期三次，天气越来越冷了，夜也变得越来越暗了，但是泥泞，寒风和雨能没有冲走哈利对最终胜利赢取银闪闪的快迪斯杯的信心。 
　　一晚哈利训练后回到格利芬顿楼的公共室，虽然又冷又累，但是觉得很高兴今天训练完了，他发现房里的人都很兴奋。 
　　“发生什么事啦？”他问罗恩和荷米恩，他们正坐在火炉旁最好的两个位置上，正在做天文学的星图。 
　　“第一个去霍格马得的周末，”罗恩指着那又旧又破的公布栏的通知说，“在十月底，万圣节那天。” 
　　“太好了，”弗来德说，他跟着哈利通过那画像口，“我要去参观卓克特可，我差点就出了斯场。普里斯。” 
　　哈利在罗恩旁边猛地坐下，他的兴奋一下子泄气了，荷米恩好像读懂他的心思。 
　　“他们很快就会捉住巴拉克的，已经有人看到他了。” 
　　“巴拉克也不会那么笨去霍格马得的，”罗恩说，“你去问问麦康娜教授这次你是否可以去，哈利，很久才会有下一次的。” 
　　“罗恩！”荷米恩说，“哈利应该留在学校里——” 
　　“三年级中总不能够只剩下他一个，”罗恩说，“去问问麦康娜教授，哈利，去——” 
　　“对，我想我会去的。”哈利说，他已经决定了。 
　　荷米恩正要张开口说，但那时候克路殊克轻轻跳出来坐在她的膝盖上，嘴里咬着一只大的死蜘蛛。 
　　“它不是在我们面前吃那东西吧？”罗恩轻蔑地说。 
　　“聪明的克路殊克，是你自己捉的吗？”荷米恩问。 
　　克路殊克慢慢地嚼着那蜘蛛，黄色的眼睛傲慢地盯着罗恩。 
　　“不要让它过来。”罗恩气愤地说，把头转到他的星图上，“我的斯卡伯斯还在袋里睡觉。” 
　　哈利打了个呵欠，他真想去睡觉，但是他还要做他的星图作业，他把书包拉过去，拿出羊皮纸，墨水和羽毛笔，开始工作了。 
　　“如果你喜欢的话可以抄我的。”罗恩说，他高兴地把最后一颗星的名字写上，然后把图表推给哈利。 
　　荷米恩很不满意抄作业，她呶呶嘴，但没说些什么，克路殊克还是不眨眼地盯着罗恩，尾巴左右摆动。然后，从地上一跃。 
　　“哦！”罗恩大声吼，抓起他的书包，克路殊克已经把四爪都伸过去，疯狂地乱抓。“滚开，你这笨猫。” 
　　罗恩尽量把书包放在远离克路殊克的地方，但是总是围绕它，用爪往内抓。 
　　“罗恩，不要伤害它！”荷米恩大喊，全大厅的人都望过来，克路殊克仍然围著书包，用爪去抓，斯卡伯斯最后从书包项钻出来——“抓着那猫！”罗恩嚷，猫从书包跳下来，跳上桌子去追赶那吓坏的斯卡伯斯。 
　　乔治。威斯里向猫扑过去，但扑了个空，斯卡伯斯在二十双脚下窜来窜去，最后躲到一张旧屉柜下面，克路殊克猛地停下来，在柜前用前抓住向抓，发出刺耳的声音。 
　　罗恩和荷米恩立即走过去，荷米恩捉住的身体中间部位，把它捧走，罗恩趴在地上，很困难地抓着斯卡伯斯的尾巴，把它拉出来。 
　　“你看好它！”他愤怒地对荷米恩说，他用手抚摸着斯卡伯斯，“他已经很瘦很弱了，你不要让那猫再靠近他。” 
　　“克路殊克不知道这是错的！”荷米恩的声音颤抖着，“所有的猫都捉老鼠的。” 
　　“那动物也挺有趣的！”罗恩说着，努力让斯卡伯斯走回书包里，“它能听懂我说斯卡伯斯在书包里。” 
　　“哦，那是废话。”荷米恩不耐烦地说，“克路殊克能够闻出来的。 
　　罗恩，你还在想到什么？——“”那猫要让让斯卡伯斯，“罗恩说，他不理会身边那些开始发笑的人，”是斯卡伯斯先到这里的，而且他病了……“ 
　　罗恩大步走过公共室，踏上通向男生宿舍的楼梯。 
　　第二天，罗恩还在生荷米恩的闷气。上魔法植物保护课的时候他几乎没有跟她说过话。即使他和哈利。荷米恩一起在同一棵豆豆树上采药的时候也没有说话。 
　　“斯卡伯斯怎么啦？”荷米恩含羞地问。她正从植物上剥下肥肥的粉红的豆，又把闪亮的豆倒进木桶里。 
　　“它躺在我的床地下，还在发抖！”罗恩生气地说，由于没对准木桶，他把豆倒在温室的地板上，豆散满地了。 
　　“小心点，威斯里，小心点。”史鲍特教授看到豆倒着地上撒开时喊道。 
　　然后他们上变形课，哈利已经决定下课后去问麦康娜教授他能否也去霍格马得，他跟在使命后，努力想好怎样辩护，但是，他被前面的人分散注意力了。 
　　拉温德。布朗好像在哭。帕维提用手搂着她并向谢默斯和汤姆斯解释着什么，他们看上去都很严肃。 
　　“发生什么事了？”荷米恩和哈利，罗恩走过来时焦急地问。 
　　“她今天从家里收到一封信，”帕维提细声说，“她的兔子比克，它被一只狐狸杀了。” 
　　“哦，”荷米恩说，“拉温德，我也很难过。” 
　　“我应该早知道的！”拉温德伤心地说，“你知道是几号吗？” 
　　“嗯——” 
　　“‘十月十六日！你讨厌的事会发生在十月十六日，星期五，’你记得吗？她说对了，她说对了。” 
　　现在全班都向她围过来了，谢默斯严肃地摇摇头，荷米恩犹豫了一下，然后她说，“你在伤心比克被狐狸杀了吗？” 
　　“嗯，不是一定要给狐狸杀的，”拉温德抬起头用泪汪汪的眼睛看着荷米恩说，“但是我的确伤心它给杀了！” 
　　“哦！”荷米恩说，她顿了顿，又问。 
　　“比克是一只老兔子吗？” 
　　“不！”拉温德啜泣着，“它只是一只兔婴儿。” 
　　帕维提更紧地搂着的拉温德的肩膀。 
　　“但是，那为什么你会伤心它死了？”荷米恩问。 
　　帕维提瞪她一眼。 
　　“噢，理智地对待它吧，”荷米恩转过身对其它人说，“我的意思是，比克不是今天死的，对吗？而拉温德刚刚才收到消息——”拉温德更大声地哭了，“她不是一直都讨厌它吗？现在只是震惊而已——” 
　　“不要管荷米恩，拉温德，”罗恩大声说，“她从都不认为别人的宠物重要的。” 
　　这时候麦康娜教授来开门了，情况稍微好转了些。荷米恩和罗恩正生气地瞪着对方，他们进入课室后，各坐在哈利一旁，整节课都没有跟对方讲过一句话。 
　　下课了，哈利还没有决定是否去问麦康娜教授，但是她自己先提到去霍格马得的问题。 
　　“请等一会。”在同学们准备离开的时候，她说，“趁着你们都在，找说一下，你们应该在万圣节之前把去霍格马得的家长签名交给我。 
　　别忘了没有表格的不准去参观那村庄。“尼维尔举起手。 
　　“教授，请求你，我——我想我丢了——” 
　　“你祖母已经直接把它寄给我了，”麦康娜教授说，“她认为这样会更安全，好了，没什么了，你们可以离开了。” 
　　“快去问她吧。”罗恩在哈利耳边说。 
　　“哦，但是——”荷米恩说。 
　　“哈利，快去问。”罗恩顽固地说。 
　　哈利等到班里其他人都走了，他紧张地走向麦康娜教授的桌子。 
　　“有事吗？波特？” 
　　哈利深呼吸一下。 
　　“教授，我姨丈和姨妈——嗯——忘了在我的表格上签名。”他说。 
　　麦康娜教授透过她的方眼镜看看哈利，但没说些什么。 
　　“所以，嗯，如果我也去霍格马得的话，可以吗？——” 
　　麦康娜教授低下头并开始翻动她桌前的表。 
　　“波特，我想不行的，”她说，“你听到我刚才说的，没有表格不准去的，那是规矩。” 
　　“但是，教授，我姨妈和姨丈——你知道——他们都是马格的人，他们不大懂霍格马得的表格或其它的。”哈利说，这时罗恩使劲地点头附和着他，“如果你说我可以去——” 
　　“但是我没这么说，”麦康娜教授说，她站起来，把一叠表整齐地放进展柜里，“表格很清楚说明要求有父母或监护人的同意，”她转过去看着他，面上呈现出奇怪的神情，是同情吗？“很对不起，波特，那是我最后一句了。你最好快跟上你的同学吧，要不，下一节课就要迟到了。” 
　　这样没有可能去了。罗恩整天地喊着麦康娜教授的名字，荷米恩觉得很烦了。 
　　而荷米恩的“都是为了哈利好”，也使罗恩更加生气，而哈利只好忍受大家整天兴高采烈地谈论著到了霍格马得应该首先做什么。 
　　“总是有一顿大餐的，”罗恩说，努力让哈利高兴起来，“你知道，万圣节大餐，在晚上。” 
　　“是啊！”哈利沮丧地说，“太好了。” 
　　万圣节的大餐通常都是很好的，但是如果第二天可以跟他们一起去霍格马得的话就更加好了，一个人独自留下来，他们谈什么都不能让哈利高兴点。汤姆斯能写得一手好字，他提出帮哈利伪造维能姨丈的签名，但是因为哈利已经告诉麦康娜教授说他没有签名，所以没用的。罗恩小心地提议哈利用隐形斗篷，但是荷米恩跺跺脚，提醒艾伯斯。丹伯多说过得蒙特可以看出来的，伯希说的是最没用的安慰话。 
　　“他们都对霍格马得小题大作了，但我告诉你吧，哈利，那里并不是那样神奇，” 
　　他严重地说，“好了，糖果店总是很好的，但是卓克特可那间简直就是危险的，还有，对了，什拉克。刹克却很值得看一看。但说真的，哈利，除了那个，你并没有错过些什么。” 
　　万圣节那天早上，哈利和大家一起醒来，也下去吃早餐，但却很沮丧，尽管他已经尽力做得像没事一样。 
　　“我们会从霍格马得那里带很多糖回来给你的。”荷米恩很难过的看着哈利。 
　　“对，带很多。‘罗恩说，他和荷米恩在哈利失望的样子前面终于忘了他们关于克路殊克的争吵。 
　　“不要担心我，”哈利说，用尽量轻快的语调，“我会在大餐时见到你们的，玩得开心点。” 
　　他跟着他们到了出口大堂，在那里，费驰站在前门里，正在检查那长长的名单，怀疑地看看每个人的脸，确认不允许出去的人没有偷混出去。 
　　“留在这里吗，波特？”马尔夫大声地喊，他和克来伯和高尔正在排队，“怕通过得蒙特？” 
　　哈利没有理会他们，而是孤单地走着大理石阶梯回到格林芬顿塔。 
　　“暗号？”胖大婶懒懒地问了一句。 
　　“费维里斯上尉。”哈利漫不经心地说。 
　　那画像旋开了一个口，哈利从那口爬进去公共室。那里有很多在谈话的一年级和二年级生，还有些高年级的学生，很明显他们经常去霍格马得，已经觉得没有意思了。 
　　“哈利！哈利！喂，哈利！” 
　　是柯林。格雷锐，一个二年级的学生，他很敬佩哈利，从来都抓紧机会跟他谈话。 
　　“你没有去霍格马得吗？哈利？为什么不去呀？嗨——”柯林诚恳地望着他的朋友，“你可以过来跟我们一起坐，如果你不介意的话，哈利？” 
　　“哦，不，谢谢你，柯林，”哈利说，他现在没有心情让很多人渴望看到他额上的疤痕。“我——我要去图书馆，去干一些事。” 
　　之后，他没办法只好又转身走回那画像口。 
　　“你为什么要老吵醒我？”胖大婶看着他走后很不满地说。 
　　哈利没精打采地向图书馆走去，但半路时他改变主意，他不想去看书，他转过身走到费驰面前，他很明显已经送走了最后一个去霍格马得参观者。 
　　“你要干什么？”费驰怀疑地吼道。 
　　“没什么。”哈利真诚地说。 
　　“没什么！”费驰吼道，他的下巴不高兴地震动着，“一句好听的话！你想偷走出去吧，为什么不跟你的朋友一起在霍格马得买臭圆球、火药和飕飕声的虫子？” 
　　哈利耸耸肩。 
　　“还是回到你该去的公共室吧。”费驰命令说，他站在那里盯着哈利，直到看不见。 
　　但是哈利没有走回到公共室里，他爬上一楼梯，模糊地想去看看海维，他正在另一走廊里走着，突然里面传来一声，“哈利？” 
　　哈利转进去去看谁在说话，看到露平教授，同时打量着他办公室的门。 
　　“你在做什么？”露平用跟费驰很不同的语气说，“罗恩和荷米恩他们在那？” 
　　“霍格马得。”哈利很随便地说。 
　　“啊，”露平说，他想了一会说，“你怎么不过来？我刚刚拿了一个吉带龙来为我们下次课准备。” 
　　“一个什么？”哈利说。 
　　他跟着露平走进他的办公室，在一角有一个很大的水槽，一只有尖角的青色动物在里面，它的脸贴着玻璃，那又长又光滑的尾巴在摆动着。 
　　“水怪，”露平看着吉带龙意味深长地说，“我们要对付他不会很难的。密诀就是弄断他的手指。你看到那特别长的手指了吗？很强壮，但也很容易碎。” 
　　那只吉带龙露出了青色的牙齿，然后藏到一角的水草里面去了。 
　　“要一杯茶吗？”露平说着四周看看去找水壶，“我正想冲一杯。” 
　　“好的。”哈利难堪地说。 
　　露平用他的魔杖拍拍水壶，水壶口立即冒出水蒸汽。 
　　“坐下吧。”露平说着揭开一个带灰尘的盖子，“我只有茶袋了，但是，我想你看烦了茶叶了吧？” 
　　哈利看着他，露平的眼睛在闪动着。 
　　“你怎么知道的？”哈利问。 
　　“麦康娜教授告诉我的，”露平说，他递给哈利一个茶袋，“你不是在担心吧，对吗？” 
　　“不是。”哈利回答。 
　　他想告诉露平教授他曾在马克来里新月街见到那只狗，但他还是决定不说。他不想让露平认为他是胆小鬼，尤其自从露平已经知道他不敢面对一只布格特后。 
　　哈利所想的已经部分显示在他脸上，因为露平说，“你在担心什么，哈利？” 
　　“没有。”哈利撒谎，他喝了一口茶。“是的，”他突然说，把茶杯放到露平的桌子上，“你还记得那天我们在玩布格特？” 
　　“记得，”露平慢慢说。 
　　“你为什么不让我来试一下？”哈利唐突地说。 
　　露平的眉毛向上一升。 
　　“我想这已经是很明显的了，哈利。”他奇怪地说。 
　　哈利震惊了。他本来预料露平会否定他这样做的。 
　　“为什么？”他又问。 
　　“嗯，”露平皱皱眉说，“我敢肯定如果让布格特面对你，他肯定会变成福尔得摩特的样子的。” 
　　哈利瞪了一眼，这不止是他最不想听到的答案，他还说到福尔得摩特的名字。 
　　哈利唯一听过（除了他自己）大声说这名字的人是丹伯多教授。 
　　“说真的，我错了。”露平说，他仍然向哈利皱着眉头。“但是我让福尔得摩特在教工室出现不是好主意，我想大家都会被吓坏的。” 
　　“我的确首先想到福尔得摩特，”哈利老实说，“但是之后——之后我记起那些得蒙特了。” 
　　“我知道，”露平意味深长地说，“好，好了……我知道了。”他看着哈利迷惑的脸孔轻轻地笑了笑。“那意味着你最怕的是——他，很明智，哈利。” 
　　哈利不知道该说些什么好，因而他喝了些茶。 
　　“因此，一直你都认为我不相信你够胆量去面对一只布格特？”露平简明地说。 
　　“嗯……是的。”哈利说着，他觉得高兴很多了。“露平教授，你知道得蒙特……” 
　　他被一阵敲门声打断了。 
　　“进来！”露平喊。 
　　门开了，史纳皮教授走进来。他正拿着一只酒杯，还有淡淡的烟冒出来，他看见哈利时停下脚步，眯着眼睛。 
　　“啊，史纳皮，”露平微笑着说，“谢谢你，请帮我把它放在桌子上好吗？” 
　　史纳皮教授把冒着烟的酒杯放下，望着哈利和露平。 
　　“我刚给哈利看看那吉带龙。”露平和蔼地指着那水槽。 
　　“很好！”史纳皮教授看也没看地说，“你应该直接喝那个，露平。” 
　　“好的，我会。”露平说。 
　　“我做了整整一桶，”史纳皮教授继续说，“如果你还想要的话。” 
　　“我想我明天还要喝一点，史纳皮，太感谢你了。” 
　　“不用谢。”史纳皮教授说，哈利看到他不喜欢的目光，他满怀恶意地离开那间房。 
　　哈利好奇地看着酒杯，露平微笑着。 
　　“史纳皮教授很好心地为我调制了一种药剂，”他说，“我不是对配制药剂很精通，而这是特别复杂的。”他拿起酒杯闻闻，“可惜糖使到它没用了。”他加了一句，喝了一小口，然后发抖。 
　　“怎么啦？”哈利问。 
　　“我一直觉得有点力不从心，”他说。“这药剂是唯一有效的了。 
　　我能和史纳皮教授一起工作很幸运了，没有很多巫师能调配出来的。“露平教授又呷了一口，但哈利巴不得把那酒杯打在地上。 
　　“史纳皮教授教授也对黑巫术很有兴趣。”哈利又说。 
　　“真的？”露平说。露平看上去对此有点兴趣，他又喝了一大口药剂。 
　　“有些人认为——”哈利犹豫了，然后不顾后果地说，“有些人认为他为了能在防黑巫术工作而不择手段。” 
　　露平把酒杯里的酒喝干，然后黑着脸。 
　　“讨厌的话，”他说，“好了，哈利，我要去工作了，一会在大餐上见你吧。” 
　　“好的。”哈利说，他把他那空茶杯放下来。 
　　那空酒杯仍然在冒烟。 
　　“哈利，”罗恩说，“我们快拿不动了。” 
　　一堆鲜艳颜色的糖跌到哈利的大腿上。黄昏的时候，罗恩和荷米恩来到公共室。 
　　他们的脸都被冷风吹红了，看上去他们好像经历了艰难的时代一样。 
　　“谢谢。”哈利拿起一颗黑色的辣椒糖，“霍格马得怎样的，你们还去那了？” 
　　各种各样的回答——去了所有地方。得里逊班斯，一个魔法工具商店，卓克特可商店，还有进去三扫帚酒吧喝牛油啤酒，总之去了很多地方。 
　　“那邮局，哈利，有大约二百只猫头鹰坐在架子上，可以根据你要送信的来选不同颜色的猫头鹰。” 
　　“那间霍格马得有一种新的牛奶糖，它们还派发新的样品，这里有，看——” 
　　“我们想我们看到一只怪物，老实说，在三扫帚酒吧把里有各种各样的。” 
　　“你做了些什么？”荷米恩说，看上去有点焦急，“你做了些功课吗？” 
　　“没有，”哈利说，“我和露平在他办公室喝茶，然后史纳皮教授进来了……” 
　　他把酒杯的事都告诉他们了，罗恩的口张得大大的。 
　　“露平喝了？”他喘着气说，“他疯了吗？” 
　　荷米恩看看手表。 
　　“我们最好走吧，你知道，大餐五分钟后开始了。”他们赶快从那画像孔里加人人群，仍然谈论著史纳皮教授。 
　　“但是他——你知道——”荷米恩紧张看看周围放低音时说，“如果他想，想毒死露平，他不会在哈利面前干的。” 
　　“是的。”哈利说，这时他们已到了人口大堂，转人大厅。大厅被成千上万的南瓜灯笼装饰着，如云的蝙蝠飞来飞去，还有很多光亮的橙色的旗帜，就像在天花板上懒懒地游动着的漂亮的水蛇一样。 
　　食品很可口，就连荷米恩和罗恩，他们已经吃了很多甜鸭糖，还可以吃每样的第二份。哈利往教工桌那边看，露平教授像平常一样很兴奋，他正在跟费立维克教授兴高采烈地交谈着，哈利顺着桌子望下去到史纳皮教授坐的位置，不知他在想什么，还有史纳皮教授的眼睛很不寻常地老向露平看过去。 
　　晚餐过后，有霍格瓦彻鬼表演娱乐节目，他们从墙，桌子上弹出来形成一种光源，就连无头的尼克——格利芬顿的鬼——笨拙的绞死动作都获得很大的成功。 
　　这天晚上很高兴，哈利的好心情没有让马尔夫给破坏。马尔夫对着正在离开的人群高喊，“波特，得蒙特向你问候。” 
　　哈利、罗恩和荷米恩跟随着格利芬顿的人群往格利芬顿塔走，但当他们来到胖大婶的画像把守的走廊的时候，他们看到一大堆学生围在那里。 
　　“他们为什么不进去呢？”罗恩好奇地说。 
　　哈利向前面的人头努力地看，那画像好像是紧闭着的。 
　　“请让一让，”是伯希的声音，他正自命不凡地向人群走进去，“怎么所有人都堆在这里了？你们都忘了密码了吗？——对不起，我是优秀男孩……” 
　　然后是一遍沉默，首先是前面的人沉默了，然后像寒流一样传到走廊这边。他们听到伯希叫，声音又突然又尖锐，“去叫丹伯多教授来，快！” 
　　人们的头都转过来，站在后面的人都跟起脚往前面看。 
　　“什么事了？”金妮刚刚到就问。 
　　不久，丹伯多教授来了，他穿过人群向那画像走过去，哈利、罗恩和荷米恩也紧跟着去看是什么事。 
　　“哦，天——”荷米恩捉住哈利的手臂大喊。 
　　那肥大婶从画像中不见了。画像被狠狠地砍过，碎片散了一地，画像的大部分已经被撕开拉走了。 
　　丹伯多匆匆地扫一眼毁坏的像，他的眼睛很深沉，然后又转向急急忙忙赶过来的麦康娜教授，露平和史纳皮教授。 
　　丹伯多说，“我们要去找她。麦康娜教授，请立即去找费驰先生，告诉他立即搜查城堡内的每幅画像。” 
　　“祝你好运。”一个咯咯笑着的声音说。 
　　是皮维斯那个调皮鬼，他正探着头看看人群有点高兴地说。正如平常一样，他看到别人担心或看到灾难他就会高兴。 
　　“你这是什么意思？皮维斯？”丹伯多沉着地说，皮维斯的齿笑收敛了一点儿。 
　　他不敢惹丹伯多，他立即转用油滑的语调，比起他咯咯的笑好不了多少。 
　　“真惨，校长先生，真不想见到这个样子，她简直就成了一团，先生，我看到她在四楼的风水画里跑，在树林里面躲躲闪闪的，很伤心地喊着什么。”他兴奋地说，“真可怜”他又毫无诚意地加上一句。 
　　“她有说是谁干的吗？”丹伯多安静地问。 
　　“哦，有，校长。”皮维斯说着在空气中做出一个拿着一个大炸弹的姿势。 
　　“她不让他进去，他生气极了，你明白吧！”皮维斯滑过去，在他两腿之间露出一个微笑。“那人的脾气真暴躁，西里斯。巴拉克。” 
Chapter 9 Grim Defeat
Professor Dumbledore sent all the Gryffindors back to the Great Hall, where they were joined ten minutes later by the students from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, who all looked extremely confused. 
“The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle,” Professor Dumbledore told them as Professors McGonagall and Flitwick closed all doors into the hall. “I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately,” he added to Percy, who was looking immensely proud and important. “Send word with one of the ghosts.” 
Professor Dumbledore paused, about to leave the hall, and said, “Oh, yes, you'll be needing…” 
One casual wave of his wand and the long tables flew to the edges of the hall and stood themselves against the walls; another wave, and the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags. 
“Sleep well,” said Professor Dumbledore, closing the door behind him. 
The hall immediately began to buzz excitedly; the Gryffindors were telling the rest of the school what had just happened. 
“Everyone into their sleeping bags!” shouted Percy. “Come on, now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!” 
“C'mon,” Ron said to Harry and Hermione; they seized three sleeping bags and dragged them into a corner. 
“Do you think Black's still in the castle?” Hermione whispered anxiously. 
“Dumbledore obviously thinks he might be,” said Ron. 
“It's very lucky he picked tonight, you know,” said Hermione as they climbed fully dressed into their sleeping bags and propped themselves on their elbows to talk. “The one night we weren't in the tower…” 
“I reckon he's lost track of time, being on the run,” said Ron. “Didn't realize it was Halloween. Otherwise he'd have come bursting in here.” 
Hermione shuddered. 
All around them, people were asking one another the same question: “How did he get in?” 
“Maybe he knows how to Apparate,” said a Ravenclaw a few feet away, “Just appear out of thin air, you know.” 
“Disguised himself, probably,” said a Hufflepuff fifth year. 
“He could've flown in,” suggested Dean Thomas. 
“Honestly, am I the only person who's ever bothered to read Hogwarts, A History?” said Hermione crossly to Harry and Ron. 
“Probably,” said Ron. “Why?” 
“Because the castle's protected by more than walls, you know,” said Hermione. “There are all sorts of enchantments on it, to stop people entering by stealth. You can't just Apparate in here. And I'd like to see the disguise that could fool those Dementors. They're guarding every single entrance to the grounds. They'd have seen him fly in too. And Filch knows all the secret passages, they'll have them covered…” 
“The lights are going out now!” Percy shouted. “I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!” 
The candles all went out at once. The only light now came from the silvery ghosts, who were drifting about talking seriously to the prefects, and the enchanted ceiling, which, like the sky outside, was scattered with stars. What with that, and the whispering that still filled the hall, Harry felt as though he were sleeping outdoors in a light wind. 
Once every hour, a teacher would reappear in the Hall to check that everything was quiet. Around three in the morning, when many students had finally fallen asleep, Professor Dumbledore came in. Harry watched him looking around for Percy, who had been prowling between the sleeping bags, telling people off for talking. Percy was only a short way away from Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who quickly pretended to be asleep as Dumbledore's footsteps drew nearer. 
“Any sign of him, Professor?” asked Percy in a whisper. 
“No. All well here?” 
“Everything under control, sir.” 
“Good. There's no point moving them all now. I've found a temporary guardian for the Gryffindor portrait hole. You'll be able to move them back in tomorrow.” 
“And the Fat Lady, sir?” 
“Hiding in a map of Argyllshire on the second floor. Apparently she refused to let Black in without the password, so he attacked. She's still very distressed, but once she's calmed down, I'll have Mr Filch restore her.” 
Harry heard the door of the hall creak open again, and more footsteps. 
“Headmaster?” It was Snape. Harry kept quite still, listening hard. “The whole of the third floor has been searched. He's not there. And Filch has done the dungeons; nothing there either.” 
“What about the Astronomy tower? Professor Trelawney's room? The Owlery?” 
“All searched…” 
“Very well, Severus. I didn't really expect Black to linger.” 
“Have you any theory as to how he got in, Professor?” asked Snape. 
Harry raised his head very slightly off his arms to free his other ear. 
“Many, Severus, each of them as unlikely as the next.” 
Harry opened his eyes a fraction and squinted up to where they stood; Dumbledore's back was to him, but he could see Percy's face, rapt with attention, and Snape's profile, which looked angry. 
“You remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before — ah — the start of term?” said Snape, who was barely opening his lips, as though trying to block Percy out of the conversation. 
“I do, Severus,” said Dumbledore, and there was something like warning in his voice. 
“It seems — almost impossible — that Black could have entered the school without inside help. I did express my concerns when you appointed —” 
“I do not believe a single person inside this castle would have helped Black enter it,” said Dumbledore, and his tone made it so clear that the subject was closed that Snape didn't reply. “I must go down to the Dementors,” said Dumbledore. “I said I would inform them when our search was complete.” 
“Didn't they want to help, sir?” said Percy. 
“Oh yes,” said Dumbledore coldly. “But I'm afraid no Dementor will cross the threshold of this castle while I am Headmaster.” 
Percy looked slightly abashed. Dumbledore left the hall, walking quickly and quietly. Snape stood for a moment, watching the headmaster with an expression of deep resentment on his face; then he too left. 
Harry glanced sideways at Ron and Hermione. Both of them had their eyes open too, reflecting the starry ceiling. 
“What was all that about?” Ron mouthed. 
The school talked of nothing but Sirius Black for the next few days. The theories about how he had entered the castle became wilder and wilder; Hannah Abbott, from Hufflepuff, spent much of their next Herbology class telling anyone who'd listen that Black could turn into a flowering shrub. 
The Fat Lady's ripped canvas had been taken off the wall and replaced with the portrait of Sir Cadogan and his fat gray pony. Nobody was very happy about this. Sir Cadogan spent half his time challenging people to duels, and the rest thinking up ridiculously complicated passwords, which he changed at least twice a day. 
“He's a complete lunatic,” said Seamus Finnigan angrily to Percy. “Can't we get anyone else?” 
“None of the other pictures wanted the job,” said Percy. “Frightened of what happened to the Fat Lady. Sir Cadogan was the only one brave enough to volunteer.” 
Sir Cadogan, however, was the least of Harry's worries. He was now being closely watched. Teachers found excuses to walk along corridors with him, and Percy Weasley (acting, Harry suspected, on his mother's orders) was tailing him everywhere like an extremely pompous guard dog. To cap it all, Professor McGonagall summoned Harry into her office, with such a somber expression on her face Harry thought someone must have died. 
“There's no point hiding it from you any longer, Potter,” she said in a very serious voice. “I know this will come as a shock to you, but Sirius Black —” 
“I know he's after me,” said Harry wearily. “I heard Ron's dad telling his mum. Mr. Weasley works for the Ministry of Magic.” 
Professor McGonagall seemed very taken aback. She stared at Harry for a moment or two, then said, “I see! Well, in that case, Potter, you'll understand why I don't think it's a good idea for you to be practicing Quidditch in the evenings. Out on the field with only your team members, it's very exposed, Potter —” 
“We've got our first match on Saturday!” said Harry, outraged. “I've got to train, Professor!” 
Professor McGonagall considered him intently. Harry knew she was deeply interested in the Gryffindor team's prospects; it had been she, after all, who'd suggested him as Seeker in the first Place. He waited, holding his breath. 
“Hmm…”Professor McGonagall stood up and stared out of the window at the Quidditch field, just visible through the rain. “Well…goodness knows, I'd like to see us win the Cup at last…but all the same, Potter…I'd be happier if a teacher were present. I'll ask Madam Hooch to oversee your training sessions.” 
The weather worsened steadily as the first Quidditch match drew nearer. Undaunted, the Gryffindor team was training harder than ever under the eye of Madam Hooch. Then, at their final training session before Saturday's match, Oliver Wood gave his team some unwelcome news. 
“We're not playing Slytherin!” he told them, looking very angry. “Flint's just been to see me. We're playing Hufflepuff instead.” 
“Why?” chorused the rest of the team. 
“Flint's excuse is that their Seeker's arm's still injured,” said Wood, grinding his teeth furiously. “But it's obvious why they're doing it. Don't want to play in this weather. Think it'll damage their chances…” 
There had been strong winds and heavy rain all day, and as Wood spoke, they heard a distant rumble of thunder. 
“There's nothing wrong with Malfoy's arm!” said Harry furiously. “He's faking it!” 
“I know that, but we can't prove it,” said Wood bitterly, “And we've been practicing all those moves assuming we're playing Slytherin, and instead it's Hufflepuff, and their style's quite different. They've got a new Captain and Seeker, Cedric Diggory —” 
Angelina, Alicia, and Katie suddenly giggled. 
“What?” said Wood, frowning at this lighthearted behavior. 
“He's that tall, good-looking one, isn't he?” said Angelina. 
“Strong and silent,” said Katie, and they started to giggle again. 
“He's only silent because he's too thick to string two words together,” said Fred impatiently. “I don't know why you're worried, Oliver, Hufflepuff is a pushover. Last time we played them, Harry caught the Snitch in about five minutes, remember?” 
“We were playing in completely different conditions!” Wood shouted, his eyes bulging slightly. “Diggory's put a very strong side together! He's an excellent Seeker! I was afraid you'd take it like this! We mustn't relax! We must keep our focus! Slytherin is trying to wrong-foot us! We must win!” 
“Oliver, calm down!” said Fred, looking slightly alarmed. “We're taking Hufflepuff very seriously. Seriously.” 
The day before the match, the winds reached howling point and the rain fell harder than ever. It was so dark inside the corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns were lit. The Slytherin team was looking very smug indeed, and none more so than Malfoy. 
“Ah, if only my arm was feeling a bit better!” he sighed as the gale outside pounded the windows. 
Harry had no room in his head to worry about anything except the match tomorrow. Oliver Wood kept hurrying up to him between classes and giving him tips. The third time this happened, Wood talked for so long that Harry suddenly realized he was ten minutes late for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and set off at a run with Wood shouting after him, “Diggory's got a very fast swerve, Harry, so you might want to try looping him —” 
Harry skidded to a halt outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, pulled the door open, and dashed inside. 
“Sorry I'm late, Professor Lupin. I —” 
But it wasn't Professor Lupin who looked up at him from the teacher's desk; it was Snape. 
“This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down.” 
But Harry didn't move. 
“Where's Professor Lupin?” he said. 
“He says he is feeling too ill to teach today,” said Snape with a twisted smile. “I believe I told you to sit down?” 
But Harry stayed where he was. 
“What's wrong with him?” 
Snape's black eyes glittered. 
“Nothing life-threatening,” he said, looking as though he wished it were. “Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty.” 
Harry walked slowly to his seat and sat down. Snape looked around at the class. 
“As I was saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far —” 
“Please, sir, we've done Boggarts, Red Caps, Kappas, and Grindylows,” said Hermione quickly, “and we're just about to start —” 
“Be quiet,” said Snape coldly. “I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization.” 
“He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had,” said Dean Thomas boldly, and there was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the class. Snape looked more menacing than ever. 
“You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you — I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and Grindylows. Today we shall discuss —” 
Harry watched him flick through the textbook, to the very back chapter, which he must know they hadn't covered. 
“— werewolves,” said Snape. 
“But, sir,” said Hermione, seemingly unable to restrain herself, “we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start Hinkypunks —” 
“Miss Granger,” said Snape in a voice of deadly calm, “I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394.” He glanced around again. “All of you! Now!” 
With many bitter sidelong looks and some sullen muttering, the class opened their books. 
“Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?” said Snape. 
Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone except Hermione, whose hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air. 
“Anyone?” Snape said, ignoring Hermione. His twisted smile was back. “Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between —” 
“We told you,” said Parvati suddenly, “we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on —” 
“Silence!” snarled Snape. “Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are…” 
“Please, sir,” said Hermione, whose hand was still in the air, “the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf —” 
“That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger,” said Snape coolly. “Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all.” 
Hermione went very red, put down her hand, and stared at the floor with her eyes full of tears. It was a mark of how much the class loathed Snape that they were all glaring at him, because every one of them had called Hermione a know-it-all at least once, and Ron, who told Hermione she was a know-it-all at least twice a week, said loudly, “You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?” 
The class knew instantly he'd gone too far. Snape advanced on Ron slowly, and the room held its breath. 
“Detention, Weasley,” Snape said silkily, his face very close to Ron's. “And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed.” 
No one made a sound throughout the rest of the lesson. They sat and made notes on werewolves from the textbook, while Snape prowled up and down the rows of desks, examining the work they had been doing with Professor Lupin. 
“Very poorly explained…That is incorrect, the Kappa is more commonly found in Mongolia…Professor Lupin gave this eight out of ten? I wouldn't have given it three…” 
When the bell rang at last, Snape held them back. 
“You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday morning. It is time somebody took this class in hand. Weasley, stay behind, we need to arrange your detention.” 
Harry and Hermione left the room with the rest of the class, who waited until they were well out of earshot, then burst into a furious tirade about Snape. 
“Snape's never been like this with any of our other Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, even if he did want the job,” Harry said to Hermione. “Why's he got it in for Lupin? D'you think this is all because of the Boggart?” 
“I don't know,” said Hermione pensively. “But I really hope Professor Lupin gets better soon…” 
Ron caught up with them five minutes later, in a towering rage. 
“D'you know what that —” (he called Snape something that made Hermione say “Ron!”) “— is making me do? I've got to scrub out the bedpans in the hospital wing. Without magic!” He was breathing deeply, his fists clenched. “Why couldn't Black have hidden in Snape's office, eh? He could have finished him off for us!” 
Harry woke extremely early the next morning; so early that it was still dark. For a moment he thought the roaring of the wind had woken him. Then he felt a cold breeze on the back of his neck and sat bolt upright — Peeves the Poltergeist had been floating next to him, blowing hard in his ear. 
“What did you do that for?” said Harry furiously. Peeves puffed out his cheeks, blew hard, and zoomed backward out of the room, cackling. 
Harry fumbled for his alarm clock and looked at it. It was half past four. Cursing Peeves, he rolled over and tried to get back to sleep, but it was very difficult, now that he was awake, to ignore the sounds of the thunder rumbling overhead, the pounding of the wind against the castle walls, and the distant creaking of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. In a few hours he would be out on the Quidditch field, battling through that gale. Finally, he gave up any thought of more sleep, got up, dressed, picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand, and walked quietly out of the dormitory. 
As Harry opened the door, something brushed against his leg. He bent down just in time to grab Crookshanks by the end of his bushy tail and drag him outside. 
“You know, I reckon Ron was right about you,” Harry told Crookshanks suspiciously. “There are plenty of mice around this place — go and chase them. Go on,” he added, nudging Crookshanks down the spiral staircase with his foot. “Leave Scabbers alone.” 
The noise of the storm was even louder in the common room. Harry knew better than to think the match would be canceled; Quidditch matches weren't called off for trifles like thunderstorms. Nevertheless, he was starting to feel very apprehensive. Wood had pointed out Cedric Diggory to him in the corridor; Diggory was a fifth year and a lot bigger than Harry. Seekers were usually light and speedy, but Diggory's weight would be an advantage in this weather because he was less likely to be blown off course. 
Harry whiled away the hours until dawn in front of the fire, getting up every now and then to stop Crookshanks from sneaking up the boys’ staircase again. At long last Harry thought it must be time for breakfast, so he headed through the portrait hole alone. 
“Stand and fight, you mangy cur!” yelled Sir Cadogan. 
“Oh, shut up,” Harry yawned. 
He revived a bit over a large bowl of porridge, and by the time he'd started on toast, the rest of the team had turned up. 
“It's going to be a tough one,” said Wood, who wasn't eating anything. 
“Stop worrying, Oliver,” said Alicia soothingly, “we don't mind a bit of rain.” 
But it was considerably more than a bit of rain. Such was the popularity of Quidditch that the whole school turned out to watch the match as usual, but they ran down the lawns toward the Quidditch field, heads bowed against the ferocious wind, umbrellas being whipped out of their hands as they went. just before he entered the locker room, Harry saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, laughing and pointing at him from under an enormous umbrella on their way to the stadium. 
The team changed into their scarlet robes and waited for Wood's usual pre-match pep talk, but it didn't come. He tried to speak several times, made an odd gulping noise, then shook his head hopelessly and beckoned them to follow him. 
The wind was so strong that they staggered sideways as they walked out onto the field. If the crowd was cheering, they couldn't hear it over the fresh rolls of thunder. Rain was splattering over Harry's glasses. How on earth was he going to see the Snitch in this? 
The Hufflepuffs were approaching from the opposite side of the field, wearing canary-yellow robes. The Captains walked up to each other and shook hands; Diggory smiled at Wood but Wood now looked as though he had lockjaw and merely nodded. Harry saw Madam Hooch's mouth form the words, “Mount Your brooms.” He pulled his right foot out of the mud with a squelch and swung it over his Nimbus Two Thousand. Madam Hooch put her whistle to her lips and gave it a blast that sounded shrill and distant — they were off. 
Harry rose fast, but his Nimbus was swerving slightly with the wind. He held it as steady as he could and turned, squinting into the rain. 
Within five minutes Harry was soaked to his skin and frozen, hardly able to see his teammates, let alone the tiny Snitch. He flew backward and forward across the field past blurred red and yellow shapes, with no idea of what was happening in the rest of the game. He couldn't hear the commentary over the wind. The crowd was hidden beneath a sea of cloaks and battered umbrellas. Twice Harry came very close to being unseated by a Bludger; his vision was so clouded by the rain on his glasses he hadn't seen them coming. 
He lost track of time. It was getting harder and harder to hold his broom straight. The sky was getting darker, as though night had decided to come early. Twice Harry nearly hit another player, without knowing whether it was a teammate or opponent; everyone was now so wet, and the rain so thick, he could hardly tell them apart… 
With the first flash of lightning came the sound of Madam Hooch's whistle; Harry could just see the outline of Wood through the thick rain, gesturing him to the ground. The whole team splashed down into the mud. 
“I called for time-out!” Wood roared at his team. “Come on, under here —” 
They huddled at the edge of the field under a large umbrella; Harry took off his glasses and wiped them hurriedly on his robes. 
“What's the score?” 
“We're fifty points up,” said Wood, “but unless we get the Snitch soon, we'll be playing into the night.” 
“I've got no chance with these on,” Harry said exasperatedly, waving his glasses. 
At that very moment, Hermione appeared at his shoulder; she was holding her cloak over her head and was, inexplicably, beaming. 
“I've had an idea, Harry! Give me your glasses, quick!” 
He handed them to her, and as the team watched in amazement, Hermione tapped them with her wand and said, “Impervius!” 
“There!” she said, handing them back to Harry. “They'll repel water!” 
Wood looked as though he could have kissed her. 
“Brilliant!” he called hoarsely after her as she disappeared into the crowd. “Okay, team, let's go for it!” 
Hermione's spell had done the trick. Harry was still numb with cold, still wetter than he'd ever been in his life, but he could see. Full of fresh determination, he urged his broom through the turbulent air, staring in every direction for the Snitch, avoiding a Bludger, ducking beneath Diggory, who was streaking in the opposite direction… 
There was another clap of thunder, followed immediately by forked lightning. This was getting more and more dangerous. Harry needed to get the Snitch quickly — 
He turned, intending to head back toward the middle of the field, but at that moment, another flash of lightning illuminated the stands, and Harry saw something that distracted him completely, the silhouette of an enormous shaggy black dog, clearly imprinted against the sky, motionless in the topmost, empty row of seats. 
Harry's numb hands slipped on the broom handle and his Nimbus dropped a few feet. Shaking his sodden bangs out of his eyes, he squinted back into the stands. The dog had vanished. 
“Harry!” came Wood's anguished yell from the Gryffindor goal posts. “Harry, behind you!” 
Harry looked wildly around. Cedric Diggory was pelting up the field, and a tiny speck of gold was shimmering in the rain-filled air between them… 
With a jolt of panic, Harry threw himself flat to the broom handle and zoomed toward the Snitch. 
“Come on!” he growled at his Nimbus as the rain whipped his face. “Faster!” 
But something odd was happening. An eerie silence was falling across the stadium. The wind, though as strong as ever, was forgetting to roar. It was as though someone had turned off the sound, as though Harry had gone suddenly deaf — what was going on? 
And then a horribly familiar wave of cold swept over him, inside him, just as he became aware of something moving on the field below… 
Before he'd had time to think, Harry had taken his eyes off the Snitch and looked down. 
At least a hundred Dementors, their hidden faces pointing up at him, were standing beneath him. It was as though freezing water were rising in his chest, cutting at his insides. And then he heard it again…Someone was screaming, screaming inside his head…a woman… 
“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!” 
“Stand aside, you silly girl…stand aside, now…” 
“Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead —” 
Numbing, swirling white mist was filling Harry's brain…What was he doing? Why was he flying? He needed to help her…She was going to die…She was going to be murdered… 
He was falling, falling through the icy mist. 
“Not Harry! Please…have mercy…have mercy…” 
A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming, and Harry knew no more. 
“Lucky the ground was so soft.” 
“I thought he was dead for sure.” 
“But he didn't even break his glasses.” 
Harry could hear the voices whispering, but they made no sense whatsoever. He didn't have a clue where he was, or how he'd got there, or what he'd been doing before he got there. All he knew was that every inch of him was aching as though it had been beaten. 
“That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life.” 
Scariest…the scariest thing…hooded black figures…cold…screaming… 
Harry's eyes snapped open. He was lying in the hospital wing. The Gryffindor Quidditch team, spattered with mud from head to foot, was gathered around his bed. Ron and Hermione were also there, looking as though they'd just climbed out of a swimming pool. 
“Harry!” said Fred, who looked extremely white underneath, the mud. “How're you feeling?” 
It was as though Harry's memory was on fast forward. The lightning…the Grim…the Snitch…and the Dementors… 
“What happened?” he said, sitting up so suddenly they all gasped. 
“You fell off,” said Fred. “Must've been — what — fifty feet?” 
“We thought you'd died,” said Alicia, who was shaking. 
Hermione made a small, squeaky noise. Her eyes were extremely bloodshot. 
“But the match,” said Harry. “What happened? Are we doing a replay?” 
No one said anything. The horrible truth sank into Harry like a stone. 
“We didn't — lose?” 
“Diggory got the Snitch,” said George. “Just after you fell. He didn't realize what had happened. When he looked back and saw you on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a rematch. But they won fair and square…even Wood admits it.” 
“Where is Wood?” said Harry, suddenly realizing he wasn't there. 
“Still in the showers,” said Fred. “We think he's trying to drown himself.” 
Harry put his face to his knees, his hands gripping his hair. Fred grabbed his shoulder and shook it roughly. 
“C'mon, Harry, you've never missed the Snitch before.” 
“There had to be one time you didn't get it,” said George. 
“It's not over yet,” said Fred. “We lost by a hundred points.” 
“Right? So if Hufflepuff loses to Ravenclaw and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin…” 
“Hufflepuff'll have to lose by at least two hundred points,” said George. 
“But if they beat Ravenclaw…” 
“No way, Ravenclaw is too good. But if Slytherin loses against Hufflepuff…” 
“It all depends on the points — a margin of a hundred either way —” 
Harry lay there, not saying a word. They had lost…for the first time ever, he had lost a Quidditch match. 
After ten minutes or so, Madam Pomfrey came over to tell the team to leave him in peace. 
“We'll come and see you later,” Fred told him. “Don't beat yourself up. Harry, you're still the best Seeker we've ever had.” 
The team trooped out, trailing mud behind them. Madam Pomfrey shut the door behind them, looking disapproving. Ron and Hermione moved nearer to Harry's bed. 
“Dumbledore was really angry,” Hermione said in a quaking voice. “I've never seen him like that before. He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the Dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium right away…He was furious they'd come onto the grounds. We heard him —” 
“Then he magicked you onto a stretcher,” said Ron. “And walked up to school with you floating on it. Everyone thought you were…” 
His voice faded, but Harry hardly noticed. He was thinking about what the Dementors had done to him…about the screaming voice. He looked up and saw Ron and Hermione looking at him so anxiously that he quickly cast around for something matter-of-fact to say. 
“Did someone get my Nimbus?” 
Ron and Hermione looked quickly at each other. 
“Er —” 
“What?” said Harry, looking from one to the other. 
“Well…when you fell off, it got blown away,” said Hermione hesitantly. 
“And?” 
“And it hit — it hit — oh, Harry — it hit the Whomping Willow.” 
Harry's insides lurched. The Whomping Willow was a very violent tree that stood alone in the middle of the grounds. 
“And?” he said, dreading the answer. 
“Well, you know the Whomping Willow,” said Ron. “It — it doesn't like being hit.” 
“Professor Flitwick brought it back just before you came around,” said Hermione in a very small voice. 
Slowly, she reached down for a bag at her feet, turned it upside down, and tipped a dozen bits of splintered wood and twig onto the bed, the only remains of Harry's faithful, finally beaten broomstick. 
丹伯多教授把所有的格林芬顿学生送回大厅，不久，来自海夫巴夫、卫文卡罗和史林德林的学生也围过来了，他们都显得很困惑。 
　　“我和老师们要在城堡里面仔细地搜搜。”丹伯多教授看到麦康娜教授和费立维克进来关上门后说，“为了你们的安全，恐怕你们的都要在这里过夜了，我要最优秀的学生在进口处守卫，由优秀的男孩和女孩负责。发生任何事情都要向我报告。” 
　　他对伯希加了一句，伯希显出又骄傲又自命不凡的样子。 
　　“有情况叫鬼来报话。”丹伯多教授停顿一下，准备离开大厅，又说：“哦，你们可能要……” 
　　他的魔杖随手一挥，所有的大桌子都飞到大厅的边缘，并背着墙站着，魔杖又一挥，大厅的地板上出现了很多紫色的睡袋。 
　　“好好睡。”丹伯多说着出去并关上门。 
　　大厅立即沸腾起来，格林芬顿的学生正在向其他人描述所发生的事。 
　　“每个人都到睡袋里睡！”伯希大喊，“快点儿，不要再说了，十分钟后关灯。” 
　　“过来。”罗恩对哈利和荷米恩说，他们把三个睡袋拖到一个角落里。 
　　“你认为巴拉克还在城堡里吗？”荷米恩忧虑地细声说。 
　　“很明显丹伯多认为他可能在。”罗恩说。 
　　“很幸运他今天晚上就去找，你明白吧！”荷米恩说，他们没有脱衣服就钻到睡袋里，头和手臂都伸在外面，“我们不在塔里的那晚……” 
　　“我想他在逃跑时忘了时间了。”罗恩说，“他可能不知道今天是万圣节，要不然他就不会闯进这里了。” 
　　荷米恩颤抖着。 
　　他们身边的人都互相问着同一个问题，“他是怎样进来的呢？” 
　　“也许他会变成透明，”一个卫文卡罗的学生说，“只在空气稀薄时才出现。” 
　　“假装别人，很可能。”一个五年级的海夫巴夫学生说。 
　　“他可能是飞进来的。”汤姆斯说。 
　　“老实说，我是否是看过霍格瓦彻的历史书的唯一学生？”荷米恩对哈利和罗恩说。 
　　“很可能是。”罗恩说，“但为什么？” 
　　“因为城堡主要是由墙来保守的，”荷米恩说，“墙上有各种各样的魔法来阻碍外面的人偷偷进来，你在这儿也不能变成透明的。依我看他肯定是伪装过来骗那些得蒙特，他们在每个入口都把守着，他们也可以看见他是否飞过来的，而且费驰知道所有的秘密入口，他们会堵塞那些人口的……” 
　　“现在开始关灯了。”伯希大喊，“我要你们开始睡觉，不要谈话了！” 
　　这时，全部的蜡烛灭了。唯一可见的光是从那银色的鬼上发出的，他们正在秘密地和那最优秀的人以及和有魔法的天花板交谈着，天花板就像外面的天空，用星星点缀着。那是什么回事呢？大厅里面还是有吱吱喳喳的声音，哈利觉得自己像在外面的风中睡觉似的。 
　　每个小时都有老师进来检查是否每个人都安静下来。凌晨三点钟，那时大部分学生都已经睡了，丹伯多教授进来了。他四周看看想找伯希，伯希正在睡袋旁巡着，叫同学不要再说话。这时伯希就在哈利、罗恩和荷米恩旁边，他们听到丹伯多的脚步近了，立即假装睡着了。 
　　“教授，看见他吗？”伯希低声问。 
　　“没有，这里都好吗？” 
　　“一切都很好，教授。” 
　　“很好，现在不要惊动他们了，我已经找了一个临时守护员来代替格林芬顿的画像口。你们明天可以回去了。” 
　　“那胖大婶呢，教授？” 
　　“她躺在二楼的一幅画里，她是不肯让巴拉克进去，因为他不知道暗号，因此他就袭击她，她现在还很恐慌，当她镇静下来，我会叫费驰先生再安排她回来。” 
　　哈利听到大厅的门又开了，有更多的脚步声响。 
　　“校长，”是史纳皮教授，哈利屏着呼吸努力地听。“三楼已经仔细搜查过了，他不在那里，还有费驰也搜了地牢了，也不在。” 
　　“那天文台楼呢？特雷络尼教授的房间呢？还有奥里沃的呢？” 
　　“都搜过了……” 
　　“很好，史纳皮，我想巴拉克真的已经走了。” 
　　“你认为他是怎样进来的呢，教授？” 
　　哈利轻轻抬起头来好让他的另一耳朵也能听。 
　　“有很多猜想，史纳皮，但是每个都不大可能。” 
　　哈利微微睁开一只眼睛看见他们站在那里，丹伯多背向着他，但他看到伯希集中注意力的样子，还有史纳皮教授生气的面容。 
　　“你记得刚刚开学时我们的谈话吗，教授？”史纳皮教授说，他的嘴唇几乎没有动，好像尽量不让伯希听到他们的对话一样。 
　　“记得，史纳皮。”丹伯多说，声音中有警告的气息。 
　　“看来，巴拉克没有内部的帮助的话，进来是几乎没有可能的，你在职的时候我也提到这一点了……” 
　　“我不相信城堡里面有人会帮助巴拉克进来。”丹伯多很清晰明了地把话题结束，史纳皮教授也没有什么好说的，“我要去找找得蒙特。”丹伯多说，“我的意思是我们搜。完毕后我就去告诉他们。” 
　　“我们不需要帮忙吗，教授？”伯希说。 
　　“噢，不需要。”丹伯多冷冷地说，“只要我还在职的话，恐怕他们是不能跨入这城堡的。” 
　　伯希有点脸红，丹伯多离开了大厅，走得又小声又快速。史纳皮教授站了一会，看着校长离开，他脸上带着愤恨的神色，然后他也离开了。 
　　哈利看看两旁的罗恩和荷米恩，他们也睁着眼睛。 
　　“他们在说什么呀？”罗恩咕噜咕噜地说。 
　　连续几天学校都没有西里斯。巴拉克的消息了。人们对他怎样进来的议论越来越广。海夫巴夫的翰吉在植物保护课上大部分时间在说他听说巴拉克是变成一棵开着花的灌树进来的。 
　　胖大婶的破像已经从墙上拿下来了，用卡得格和他的小马的画像代替，没有人为这事特别高兴。卡得格爵士一半时间用来挑战人们，剩下的时间就让同学们想荒谬的，复杂的暗号，他还一天改暗号两次…… 
　　“他简直是疯了。”罗恩生气地跟伯希说，“我们不能换其他一个吗？” 
　　但是，哈利一点都不担心卡得格爵士的事，他现在被紧紧地盯着，老师都找借口跟他一起走过走廊，还有伯希。威斯里（哈利怀疑他受妈妈的命令）像一只极端忠实的狗一样整天跟着他。最离谱的是，麦康娜教授把哈利叫到她办公室里，她带着的伤痛的表情让哈利认为是谁死了。 
　　“波特，再瞒着你也没用了。”她很严肃地说，“我知道这会给你带来巨大的震惊的。但是西里斯。巴拉克——” 
　　“我知道他来找我，”哈利厌倦地说，“我听到罗恩的爸跟他妈妈的对话，威斯里先生在魔法部里工作。” 
　　麦康娜教授教授好像吓了一惊。她盯着哈利一会儿然后说，“我明白了，那样的话，波特，你应该明白你晚上去快迪斯场练球不是很好，在球场上只有你的六个队友，很危险的，哈利——” 
　　“我们第一场比赛星期六就开始了，”哈利生气地说，“教授，我们要训练。” 
　　麦康娜教授仔细地想着，哈利知道她很关心格林芬顿球队的前景，正是她，毕竟，建议他加入球队做搜索者。他屏着呼吸等着。 
　　“嗨……”麦康娜教授教授站起来，窗外的快迪斯球场，在雨中隐隐可见。 
　　“天啊，谁知道呢，我当然也想我们最后赢冠军……但那还是一样，波特……如果还有一个老师在就好了。我会去问问是否胡施女士监视着你们训练的。” 
　　第一场快迪斯比赛接近时，天气越来越差了，格林芬顿队员没有受影响，他们在胡施女士的监视下更加努力地训练，然后，在他们赛前最后一次训练的时候，奥里沃。伍德带来了不受欢迎的消息。 
　　“我们并不是打史林德林！”他告诉他们，样子很生气，“史林斯刚刚来找我，我们将对海夫巴夫。”“为什么？”其他队员异口同声问道。 
　　“史林斯的借口是他们队的搜索者的手臂受伤还没好。”伍德狠狠地咬着牙说，“他们这样做很明显，他们不想在这样的天气比赛。 
　　认为这样赢的机会不大……“伍德说话时，外面刮着强风下着大雨，他们还听到远处的雷声。 
　　“马尔夫的手臂根本就没事。”哈利气愤地说。“他是在假装的。” 
　　“这个我们都知道，但是我们不能证明。”伍德痛苦地说。“我们一直都努力训练以为会对史林德林，谁知是海夫已夫，他们的打法很不同。他们来了一个新的队长搜索员，塞德里克。迪格瑞——” 
　　安格莉娜发丽斯亚和凯特突然格格地笑起来。 
　　“怎么啦？”伍德说，他皱着眉头不满地看着他们掉以轻心的样子。 
　　“他是又高又好看那个，是吗？”艾丽斯亚说。 
　　“又强壮又沉默。”凯特说，他们又咯咯地笑起来。 
　　“他沉默是因为他太胖以致不能把两个词连起来说，”弗来德很不耐烦地说，“我不明白你为什么担心，奥里沃，海夫巴夫是很差劲的对手，你还记得吗？上次我们跟他们打的时候，哈利五分钟就抓住史尼斯球了。” 
　　“那时的情况是完全不同的。”伍德大声说，他的眼睛微微突出来，“迪格瑞很强壮，他是很好的搜索者。我想你们要这样想，我们不能放松，我们还要集中精神，史林德林想耍我们，我们一定要赢。” 
　　“奥里沃，你冷静点。”佛来德有谨慎地说，“我们千万不能，千万不能轻视海夫巴夫。” 
　　比赛前的一天，风狂吼着，雨下得更大了。走廊和课堂都特别暗，所有的灯和灯笼都亮起来了，史林德林队员得意洋洋的，尤其是马尔夫。 
　　“哦，如果我的手臂好一点就好了，”他叹了口气，外面的狂风撞着窗口。 
　　哈利除了第二天的比赛之外没功夫担心其他的事了。奥里沃。 
　　伍德地来回地走着想提醒他些什么。他来第三次时，哈利意识到他们说得太久了，他的黑巫术防御课已经迟了十分钟了。他拔腿就跑，伍德还在后面喊，“迪格瑞偏斜的速度很快的，哈利，你可一定要防着他——” 
　　哈利在黑巫术防御课室前呼一声停下来，拉开门冲进去。 
　　“对不起我迟到了，露平教授，我——” 
　　但是抬起头看他的不是露平教授，而是史纳皮教授。 
　　“这节课十分钟前就开始了，波特，我想格林芬顿要扣十分，坐下吧。” 
　　但是哈利仍站在原来的位置。 
　　“他有什么病？” 
　　史纳皮教授的黑眼睛发亮了。 
　　“没有什么生命危险，”他说，“看上去他很希望格林芬顿自扣五分，如果再让我叫你坐下，就每人扣五十分。” 
　　哈利慢慢走过去坐下来，史纳皮教授看着全班。 
　　“当波特还没有打断前，我要说道露平教授没有教了什么……” 
　　“先生，我们已经学了布格特，红帽子，卡布狮，”荷米恩赶忙说，“而且我们准备学——” 
　　“安静下来。”史纳皮教授冷冷地说，“我还没有说什么，我只是认为露平教授讲课没有什么组织性。” 
　　“他是黑巫术防御课中最好的老师。”汤姆斯很勇敢地说，随着班里传来一阵阵附和的说话声，史纳皮教授显得更加凶狠了。 
　　“你们太容易满足了，露平其实没有教到你们什么的，我准备在一年级就讲红帽子了。今天我们将会讨论——” 
　　哈利看着他拿着教科书翻到最后一章，这样他确保他们还没有学到。 
　　“——狼人。”史纳皮教授说。 
　　“但是，老师，”荷米恩好像不能控制自己了，“我们不是要学狼人的，我们应该开始上亨凯普——” 
　　“格林佐小姐，”史纲皮教授声音平静中带着狠毒，“我现在是来上课，不是来跟你商量，现在我叫你翻开三百九十四页，”他转向大家，“你们都是，立即翻开！” 
　　带着不满的表情低声地咕噜着，大家都翻开书本了。 
　　“你们谁能告诉我怎样区别狼人和真正的狼呢？”史纳皮教授说。 
　　每个人都面无表情地坐在那里。除了荷米恩如平常一样，在空中直直地举起来。 
　　“有没有人知道？”史纳皮教授不理会荷米思，继续问，他那阴险的微笑又出现了。“是否你们的露平教授还没有教你们的基本知识去分辨……” 
　　“我们告诉你了。”帕维提突然说，“我们还未学到狼人，我们还在学——” 
　　“住口！”史纳皮教授大声吼，“哦，嗯，我从没有见到过三年级的学生连狼人都认不出来。我得向丹伯多教授报告一下，说你们这班实在太落后了……” 
　　“老师，请求你，”荷米恩说，她的手仍然高高地举着，“狼人和真正的狼可以从几方面分辨出来，狼人的鼻子是——” 
　　“这是你的第二次插嘴了，格林佐小姐。”“格林芬顿因为不能忍受再扣五分。” 
　　荷米恩的脸很红，她放下手，充满泪水的眼睛望着地板，全班同学都瞪着史纳皮教授，很明显大家都非常讨厌他。班里每个人都曾喊荷米恩为“万事知”，罗恩曾说过她一个星期至少两次是“万事知”，现在罗恩向着史纳皮教授大声说：“你问我们问题，她知道答案！如果你不想有回答的话，你干嘛要问？” 
　　大家都意识到他太冲动了。史纳皮教授向罗恩慢慢步近，全班人都屏住呼吸。 
　　“威斯里，你留堂。”史纳皮教授咬着牙齿说，他的脸很贴近罗恩，“如果你再批评我的教学方法，你真的会后悔的。” 
　　课堂剩下的时间班里没有人说过一句话，他们坐着从书本上抄关于狼人的笔记，而史纳皮教授则在桌子之间来回踱着，拿起他们以前露干布置的作业看。 
　　“解释得太差了……那是不对的，卡布狮在蒙古更加常见……露平教授还十分满意打了八分，若是我，我会给不超过三分。” 
　　铃终于响了，史纳皮教授留着他们。 
　　“你们回去写一篇论文交给我，写有关怎样辩论狼人和怎么样杀他们，论文要有两张羊皮纸那么长，星期一之前交给我，这是应该抓紧这班的时候了，威斯里，你留下，我要安排你留堂。” 
　　哈利和荷米恩随着其他同学离开课堂。他们猜想课室里的人不会听到时，就开始沸沸扬扬地谈论史纳皮教授。 
　　“史纳皮教授一点都不像上黑巫术防御课的其他老师，即使他还很想当这门课的老师。”哈利对荷米恩说，“为什么他会给露平教授代课呢？你想是否因为布格特那事？” 
　　“我不知道，”荷米恩哀愁地说，“但我真希望露平教授快点恢复。” 
　　罗恩五分钟后跟上来了，他愤怒到极点。 
　　“你知道那——”，他称史纳皮为那东西，“让我做什么吗？他让我把医院的床单都洗一遍，还不能用魔法！”他深深的呼吸，拳头紧紧地握着，“为什么巴拉克不藏在史纳皮教授的办公室呢？他应该帮我们把他干掉！” 
　　哈利第二天一早就醒了，外面仍然很黑，好一会他以为是外面狂乱的风吵醒他，随后他觉得脖子后面有冷冷的风，他于是直坐起来——原来是皮维斯那调皮鬼飞到他身边，在他耳后使劲地吹着。 
　　“你来这里干什么？”哈利不高兴地说。 
　　皮维斯向着他的下巴使劲地吹了一会就飞到外面去了，一直在咯咯地笑着。 
　　哈利在床上摸出闹钟一看，才四点半。讨厌的皮维斯，他尝试着再睡，但是很难，他已经醒了，尽量不理会外面隆隆的雷声，狂风撞在墙上的声音，还有远处禁忌林里倒裂的声音。几个小时后，他将会球场上在强风中比赛了。最后，他不想再睡了，他起床，穿好衣服，拿起他的灵光2000，蹑手蹑脚地走出宿舍。 
　　当哈利打开门时，有东西撞到他的脚上。他弯下腰恰好抓住克路殊克推下楼，又说，“放过斯卡伯斯吧。” 
　　在公共室里，雷雨更大了。哈利知道最好别期望比赛会取消。 
　　快迪斯比赛不会为雷雨这样的小事而推迟的。但是，他开始觉得有点担心。伍德向他指出迪格瑞是五年级学生，比哈利强壮，搜索者通常是轻而快的，但迪格端的体重也有优势，在这样的天气下，他不容易被吹倒呀。 
　　哈利坐在火炉前直到破晓，时而站起来阻止克路殊克偷偷爬上的楼梯，最后，哈利想该是吃早餐的时候，他便向画像走过去。 
　　“你这黄毛小子，站住来跟我打。”卡得格爵士大声喊。 
　　“哦，住口。”哈利打了个呵欠。 
　　他吃了一大碗粥之后觉得好一点了，开始吃面包的时候，其它队员也来了。 
　　“这将会是比较辛苦的比赛。”伍德说，他还没吃东西。 
　　“不要担心，奥里沃，”艾丽斯亚使他宽心地说着，“我们不会在意这些雨的。” 
　　但是，这绝不止是这些雨。快迪斯比赛向来都很受欢迎的。全校的人都出来看比赛，他们顶着狂风，连手中的雨伞都被吹翻，来到快迪斯球赛场的草地上，当哈利刚进入更衣室的时候，他看到马尔夫、克来伯和高尔，正向体育馆走过来，他们在一把大伞下指着哈利大声地笑。 
　　队员在换上深红色队衣后，正等着伍德通常的赛前讲话，但是他这次没有说，他几次想说些什么，但只发出含糊的声音。他只是摇摇头，然后示意他的队员跟他出去。 
　　他们向球场走时，风刮得很猛，他们只好靠墙走，因为不断的隆隆的雷声，他们都不知道围观的同学是否在欢呼。水打在哈利的眼镜上，这样他怎么能看到史尼斯球在那里？ 
　　海夫巴夫队员从球场的另一方走出来，他们穿着淡黄色的球服。 
　　两个队长向对方走过去并且握握手，迪格瑞向伍德微微笑了一下，但是伍德的下巴好像锁住一样，他只是点点头。哈利看到胡施女士的嘴形说，“准备好你的扫帚。”他从泥泞中把脚抽出来，跨上他的灵光2000上。弗琼女士把哨子放在唇上吹了一下，声音又沙哑又遥远——他们开始了。 
　　哈利迅速站起身，但是他的灵光2000在风中摇摆着，他尽力让它稳定下来，然后一转，冲入雨里。 
　　不到五分钟，哈利感到冰冷的雨水渗到他的皮肤上，他几乎看不见他的队友，更不用说那个小小的史尼斯球。他在球赛上飞来飞去，只看到身边不断有红色和黄色的身形飞过，他不知道球赛进展如何。 
　　在风中他们听不到命令，下面是斗篷和雨伞的海洋。他两次差点被可尔夫球撞下去。他的视线被眼镜上的雨水模糊了，他看不到前面的东西。 
　　有时候，他觉得让他的扫帚保持直线就行了。天空越来越暗了，好像夜晚决定提前到达一样。哈利两次差点撞到球员的身上，他不知道是队友还是对手。 
　　天空闪了一下，传来了胡施女士的口哨声，哈利透过厚厚的雨层，勉强看到伍德的轮廓，他正在示意叫他下到地面来。整支队就这样向伍德冲过去。 
　　“我叫了暂停，”伍德对他的队员大声说，“过来，到这边来——” 
　　他们在球场边缘一把大伞下面集合。哈利脱下眼镜在衣服上匆匆地擦擦。 
　　“现在有几分？” 
　　“我们有五十分了，”伍德说，“但是除非我们找到史尼斯，要不，我们会打到晚上还不能停的。” 
　　“我戴着这个的话根本就没机会。”哈利挥动着眼镜赌气地说。 
　　正在那个时候，荷米恩在他肩膀出现了，她正戴着她的斗篷，冲着哈利莫明其妙地笑着。 
　　“哈利，我有办法，快给我你的眼镜！” 
　　他递过去给她，队员都惊奇地看着她，荷米恩用她的魔杖轻轻地拍拍眼镜，念道：“伊被华斯！” 
　　“行了！”她把眼镜还给哈利说，“它现在是防水的。” 
　　伍德看上去好像要吻她一样。 
　　“太好了，”当她消失在人群时伍德大声地说，“好了，队员们，我们开始吧。” 
　　荷米恩的咒语很有效，但哈利仍然冻得麻麻的，比他任何时候都要冷，但是他可以看了。怀着无比的决心，他的扫帚在呼呼的风中加速，他向每个方向寻找史尼斯球，闪过了一个布鲁位球，在正向这边冲过来的迪格瑞下面穿过…… 
　　又传来一阵雷响，紧紧地跟着耀眼的闪电之后。情况变得越来越危险了，哈利要尽快找到住史尼斯。 
　　他转过头，准备向球场中间飞过去，就在那一刹那，又是一阵闪电，把整个球场都照亮了，哈利的注意力转移到一个东西上。那是一只毛发蓬松的大黑狗，面无表情地坐在最上的那排空座位上。 
　　哈利麻麻的手在扫帚上滑动一下，他的“灵光2000”下降了几尺，他拨拨湿透的头发，再往看台那边看，那只狗已经消失了。 
　　“哈利！”伍德站在格林芬顿的球门前向他烦恼地叫，“哈利，在你后面。” 
　　哈利立刻向四周看看，迪格瑞正向他后面猛飞，一个带着污点的史尼斯球正在他们俩之间闪闪发光…… 
　　哈利感到一阵急烈的惊慌，他趴在扫帚上向球飞扑过去。 
　　“加油，“他对灵光2000大声说，雨点抽打在他的脸上，”快一点！“但是奇怪的事情发生了。体育馆里突然变得令人毛骨悚然的沉静，风虽然很强，但好像忘了发出声音一样，好像谁突然把声音关掉了，哈利好像突然间聋了——什么事了？ 
　　然后一阵恐怖的熟识的冷流向他盖过来，他开始注意到下面球场有些东西在动…… 
　　他还没有开始想到些什么，哈利把视线从史尼斯球移开往地下看。 
　　最少有一百个得蒙特，他们遮羞着的脸正向着他，他觉得冰的水在他胸前涌起，在割断他身体内的东西。然后他又开始听到有人在尖叫，在他的头脑里面尖叫…… 
　　一个女人…… 
　　“不，不要，求求你，不要是哈利！” 
　　“走开，你这笨女孩……立即滚开……！” 
　　“不要哈利，求求你不要，你杀我吧……” 
　　模糊的，旋转着的白雾充满了哈利的头脑——他在做什么？为什么他在飞？他要去救她……她快要死了……她快要被杀死了…… 
　　他在下落，在冰冻的雾里下落。 
　　“不要哈利，求求你——放过他——放过他吧——” 
　　一个刺耳的声音大笑起来，那女人在尖叫之后哈利什么都不知道了。 
　　“幸亏地面很软。” 
　　“我以为他肯定会死的了。” 
　　“但是他连眼镜都没有弄坏。”哈利可以听到各种各样的说话声，但不知道他们在说什么。他不知道他在那里，怎么到达这里的，之前在做什么。他只觉得浑身都酸痛，好像被抽打了一顿一样…… 
　　“那是我这辈子见到过的最恐怖的东西。” 
　　很恐怖的……最吓人的……头巾状的黑色的身影……很冷…… 
　　在尖叫…… 
　　哈利猛地睁开眼，他躺在医院的病床上。格林芬顿的快迪斯队员从头到脚都是泥土，正在他的床边看着他。罗恩和荷米恩也在，他们都好像刚从游泳池爬上来一样。 
　　“哈利！”弗来德喊着，他在泥土的映衬下显得特别白，“你觉得怎样？” 
　　哈利的记忆飞速地走着，那闪电……那狰狞格拉菲……还有史尼斯球……还有那些得蒙特。 
　　“什么事了？”他猛地坐起来，大家都呆了。 
　　“你摔下来了，”弗来德说，“从五十尺高的地方，还能继续比赛吗？” 
　　“我们以为你死了。”艾丽斯亚颤抖着说。 
　　荷米恩发出一声细细的尖叫声。她的眼睛很红。 
　　“但是那比赛，”哈利说，“发生什么事了？” 
　　没有人说些什么。沉痛的事实像一块大石头一样在哈利心里沉下去。 
　　“我们——输了？” 
　　“迪格瑞找到了史尼斯球了。”格林佐说，“在你刚刚摔下去的时候。他不知道发生什么事了。当他向后一看，见到你在地上，他想叫暂停的，还想要重新再打一场，但是他们赢得很公平……就是连伍德也承认它。” 
　　“伍德在那里？”哈利说，他这时才意识到他不在那里。 
　　“还在洗澡。”弗来德说，“我想有人了想溺死自己。” 
　　哈利把脸藏在双膝上，双手抓着头发。弗来德捉住他的肩膀使劲地摇他。 
　　“不要这样，哈利，你从来都没有错过史尼斯球的。” 
　　“肯定有一次你不能接住它的。”格林佐说。“还没有完呢。”弗来德说，“我们只落后一百分，不是吗？因此如果海夫巴夫输给卫文卡罗的话，我们就会打卫文卡罗和史林德林……” 
　　“海夫巴夫起码要输二百分。”格林佐说。 
　　“但是如果赢了卫文卡罗……” 
　　“不可能，卫文卡罗队很强的，但如果史林德林输给海夫巴夫的话……” 
　　“都由分数决定的——一百分来定赛程——” 
　　哈利躺在那里，没有说些什么，他们已经输了……第一次输了一场快迪斯比赛。 
　　大约十分钟之后波姆弗雷女士进来叫队员门离开好让他安静一下。 
　　“我们晚一点再来看你，”弗来德跟他说，“不要责怪自己，哈利，你仍然是我们见过的最好的搜索员。” 
　　那些队员出去了，身后留下泥迹，波姆弗雷女士很不满意地关上门。罗恩和荷米恩靠近哈利的床。 
　　“丹伯多很生气，”荷米恩用颤抖的声音说，“我从没有见过他那个样子。你跌下来时他冲进球场，挥动他的魔杖，使你撞到地上速度减下来了。然后他用魔杖指向得蒙特，向他们发射银白色的东西，他们立即离开了体育馆……他对他们的闯进来很气愤，我们听到他——” 
　　“然后他用魔杖把你移到担架上，”罗恩说，“还扶着你走进学校。 
　　每个人都以为你……“他的声音降下来了，但哈利没有注意到，他正在想得蒙特对他做了些什么…… 
　　还有那尖叫声，他抬起头看到罗恩和荷米恩正忧虑地看着他。他立即转为说一些实在一点的话。 
　　“有人捡到我的扫帚吗？” 
　　罗恩和荷米恩立刻相视一望。 
　　“嗯——” 
　　“怎么啦？”哈刮说，分别向他们看看。 
　　“哦……你掉下来的时候，它给吹走了。”荷米恩犹豫地说。 
　　“之后呢？” 
　　“之后，它撞到——它撞到，噢，哈利，它撞在胡宾柳树上。” 
　　荷米恩的心猛地收空一下，那胡宾树是一棵很凶残的树，种在球场中间。 
　　“之后呢？”哈利问，他猜到那讨厌的答案了。 
　　“嗯，你知道那胡宾柳树了。”罗恩说，“它——它不喜欢别人碰它。” 
　　“费立维克教授在你醒来之前把它拿回来了。”荷米思小声地说。 
　　她慢慢地在她脚边拿出一个袋子来，把它倒转，倒出一堆折断的木头在床上，这是哈利被打败的见证。 
Chapter 11 The Firebolt
Harry didn't have a very clear idea of how he had managed to get back into the Honeydukes cellar, through the tunnel, and into the castle once more. All he knew was that the return trip seemed to take no time at all, and that he hardly noticed what he was doing, because his head was still pounding with the conversation he had just heard. 
Why had nobody ever told him? Dumbledore, Hagrid, Mr. Weasley, Cornelius Fudge…why hadn't anyone ever mentioned the fact that Harry's parents had died because their best friend had betrayed them? 
Ron and Hermione watched Harry nervously all through dinner, not daring to talk about what they'd overheard, because Percy was sitting close by them. When they went upstairs to the crowded common room, it was to find Fred and George had set off half a dozen Dungbombs in a fit of end-of-term high spirits. Harry, who didn't want Fred and George asking him whether he'd reached Hogsmeade or not, sneaked quietly up to the empty dormitory and headed straight for his bedside cabinet. He pushed his books aside and quickly found what he was looking for — the leather-bound photo album Hagrid had given him two years ago, which was full of wizard pictures of his mother and father. He sat down on his bed, drew the hangings around him, and started turning the pages, searching, until … 
He stopped on a picture of his parents’ wedding day. There was his father waving up at him, beaming, the untidy black hair Harry had inherited standing up in all directions. There was his mother, alight with happiness, arm in arm with his dad. And there…that must be him. Their best man…Harry had never given him a thought before. 
If he hadn't known it was the same person, he would never have guessed it was Black in this old photograph. His face wasn't sunken and waxy, but handsome, full of laughter. Had he already been working for Voldemort when this picture had been taken? Was he already planning the deaths of the two people next to him? Did he realize he was facing twelve years in Azkaban, twelve years that would make him unrecognizable? 
But the Dementors don't affect him, Harry thought, staring into the handsome, laughing face. He doesn't have to hear my Mum screaming if they get too close — 
Harry slammed the album shut, reached over and stuffed it back into his cabinet, took off his robe and glasses and got into bed, making sure the hangings were hiding him from view. 
The dormitory door opened. 
“Harry?” said Ron's voice uncertainly. 
But Harry lay still, pretending to be asleep. He heard Ron leave again, and rolled over on his back, his eyes wide open. 
A hatred such as he had never known before was coursing through Harry like poison. He could see Black laughing at him through the darkness, as though somebody had pasted the picture from the album over his eyes. He watched, as though somebody was playing him a piece of film, Sirius Black blasting Peter Pettigrew (who resembled Neville Longbottom) into a thousand pieces. He could hear (though having no idea what Black's voice might sound like) a low, excited mutter. “It has happened, My Lord…the Potters have made me their Secret-Keeper” and then came another voice, laughing shrilly, the same laugh that Harry heard inside his head whenever the Dementors drew near…. 
“Harry, you — you look terrible.” 
Harry hadn't gotten to sleep until daybreak. He had awoken to find the dormitory deserted, dressed, and gone down the spiral staircase to a common room that was completely empty except for Ron, who was eating a Peppermint Toad and massaging his stomach, and Hermione, who had spread her homework over three tables. 
“Where is everyone?” said Harry. 
“Gone! It's the first day of the holidays, remember?” said Ron, watching Harry closely. “It's nearly lunchtime; I was going to come and wake you up in a minute.” 
Harry slumped into a chair next to the fire. Snow was still falling outside the windows. Crookshanks was spread out in front of the fire like a large, ginger rug. 
“You really don't look well, you know,” Hermione said, peering anxiously into his face. 
“I'm fine,” said Harry. 
“Harry, listen,” said Hermione, exchanging a look with Ron, “you must be really upset about what we heard yesterday. But the thing is, you mustn't go doing anything stupid.” 
“Like what?” said Harry. 
“Like trying to go after Black,” said Ron sharply. 
Harry could tell they had rehearsed this conversation while he had been asleep. He didn't say anything. 
“You won't, will you, Harry?” said Hermione. 
“Because Black's not worth dying for,” said Ron. 
Harry looked at them. They didn't seem to understand at all. 
“D'you know what I see and hear every time a Dementor gets too near me?” Ron and Hermione shook their heads, looking apprehensive. “I can hear my mum screaming and pleading with Voldemort. And if you'd heard your mum screaming like that, just about to be killed, you wouldn't forget it in a hurry. And if you found out someone who was supposed to be a friend of hers betrayed her and sent Voldemort after her —” 
“There's nothing you can do!” said Hermione, looking stricken. “The Dementors will catch Black and he'll go back to Azkaban and — and serve him right!” 
“You heard what Fudge said. Black isn't affected by Azkaban like normal people are. It's not a punishment for him like it is for the others.” 
“So what are you saying?” said Ron, looking very tense. “You want to — to kill Black or something?” 
“Don't be silly,” said Hermione in a panicky voice. “Harry doesn't want to kill anyone, do you, Harry?” 
Again, Harry didn't answer. He didn't know what he wanted to do. All he knew was that the idea of doing nothing, while Black was at liberty, was almost more than he could stand. 
“Malfoy knows,” he said abruptly. “Remember what he said to me in Potions? ‘If it was me, I'd hunt him down myself…I'd want revenge.'” 
“You're going to take Malfoy's advice instead of ours?” said Ron furiously. “Listen…you know what Pettigrew's mother got back after Black had finished with him? Dad told me — the Order of Merlin, First Class, and Pettigrew's finger in a box. That was the biggest bit of him they could find. Black's a madman, Harry, and he's dangerous —” 
“Malfoy's dad must have told him,” said Harry, ignoring Ron. “He was right in Voldemort's inner circle —” 
“Say You-Know-Who, will you?” interjected Ron angrily. 
“— so obviously, the Malfoys knew Black was working for Voldemort —” 
“— and Malfoy'd love to see you blown into about a million pieces, like Pettigrew! Get a grip. Malfoy's just hoping you'll get yourself killed before he has to play you at Quidditch.” 
“Harry, please,” said Hermione, her eyes now shining with tears, “Please be sensible. Black did a terrible, terrible thing, but d-don't put yourself in danger, it's what Black wants…Oh, Harry, you'd be playing right into Black's hands if you went looking for him. Your mum and dad wouldn't want you to get hurt, would they? They'd never want you to go looking for Black!” 
“I'll never know what they'd have wanted, because thanks to Black, I've never spoken to them,” said Harry shortly. 
There was a silence in which Crookshanks stretched luxuriously flexing his claws. Ron's pocket quivered. 
“Look,” said Ron, obviously casting around for a change of subject, “it's the holidays! It's nearly Christmas! Let's — let's go down and see Hagrid. We haven't visited him for ages!” 
“No!” said Hermione quickly. “Harry isn't supposed to leave the castle, Ron —” 
“Yeah, let's go,” said Harry, sitting up, “and I can ask him how come he never mentioned Black when he told me all about my parents!” 
Further discussion of Sirius Black plainly wasn't what Ron had had in mind. 
“Or we could have a game of chess,” he said hastily, “or Gobstones. Percy left a set —” 
“No, let's visit Hagrid,” said Harry firmly. 
So they got their cloaks from their dormitories and set off through the portrait hole (“Stand and fight, you yellow-bellied mongrels!”), down through the empty castle and out through the oak front doors. 
They made their way slowly down the lawn, making a shallow trench in the glittering, powdery snow, their socks and the hems of their cloaks soaked and freezing. The Forbidden Forest looked as though it had been enchanted, each tree smattered with silver, and Hagrid's cabin looked like an iced cake. 
Ron knocked, but there was no answer. 
“He's not out, is he?” said Hermione, who was shivering under her cloak. 
Ron had his ear to the door. 
“There's a weird noise,” he said. “Listen — is that Fang?” 
Harry and Hermione put their ears to the door too. From inside the cabin came a series of low, throbbing moans. 
“Think we'd better go and get someone?” said Ron nervously. 
“Hagrid!” called Harry, thumping the door. “Hagrid, are you in there?” 
There was a sound of heavy footsteps, then the door creaked open. Hagrid stood there with his eyes red and swollen, tears splashing down the front of his leather vest. 
“You've heard?” he bellowed, and he flung himself onto Harry's neck. 
Hagrid being at least twice the size of a normal man, this was no laughing matter. Harry, about to collapse under Hagrid's weight, was rescued by Ron and Hermione, who each seized Hagrid under an arm and heaved him back into the cabin. Hagrid allowed himself to be steered into a chair and slumped over the table, sobbing uncontrollably, his face glazed with tears that dripped down into his tangled beard. 
“Hagrid, what is it?” said Hermione, aghast. 
Harry spotted an official-looking letter lying open on the table. 
“What's this, Hagrid?” 
Hagrid's sobs redoubled, but he shoved the letter toward Harry, who picked it up and read aloud: 
Dear Mr. Hagrid, Further to our inquiry into the attack by a Hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurances of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident. “Well, that's okay then, Hagrid!” said Ron, clapping Hagrid on the shoulder. But Hagrid continued to sob, and waved one of his gigantic hands, inviting Harry to read on. 
However, we must register our concern about the Hippogriff in question. We have decided to uphold the official complaint of Mr. Lucius Malfoy, and this matter will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The hearing will take place on April 20th, and we ask you to present yourself and your Hippogriff at the Committee's offices in London on that date. In the meantime, the Hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated. Yours in fellowship … There followed a list of the school governors. 
“Oh,” said Ron. “But you said Buckbeak isn't a bad Hippogriff, Hagrid. I bet he'll get off.” 
“Yeh don’ know them gargoyles at the Committee fer the Disposal o’ Dangerous Creatures!” choked Hagrid, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “They've got it in fer interestin’ creatures!” 
A sudden sound from the corner of Hagrid's cabin made Harry, Ron, and Hermione whip around. Buckbeak the Hippogriff was lying in the corner, chomping on something that was oozing blood all over the floor. 
“I couldn’ leave him tied up out there in the snow!” choked Hagrid. “All on his own! At Christmas.” 
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another. They had never seen eye to eye with Hagrid about what he called ‘interesting creatures’ and other people called ‘terrifying monsters.’ On the other hand, there didn't seem to be any particular harm in Buckbeak. In fact, by Hagrid's usual standards, he was positively cute. 
“You'll have to put up a good strong defense, Hagrid,” said Hermione, sitting down and laying a hand on Hagrid's massive forearm. “I'm sure you can prove Buckbeak is safe.” 
“Won’ make no diff'rence!” sobbed Hagrid. “Them Disposal devils, they're all in Lucius Malfoy's pocket! Scared o’ him! Ad if I lose the case, Buckbeak —” 
Hagrid drew his finger swiftly across his throat, then gave a great wail and lurched forward, his face in his arms. 
“What about Dumbledore, Hagrid?” said Harry. 
“He's done more'n enough fer me already,” groaned Hagrid. “Got enough on his plate what with keepin’ them Dementors outta the castle, an’ Sirius Black lurkin’ around.” 
Ron and Hermione looked quickly at Harry, as though expecting him to start berating Hagrid for not telling him the truth about Black. But Harry couldn't bring himself to do it, not now that he saw Hagrid so miserable and scared. 
“Listen, Hagrid,” he said, “you can't give up. Hermione's right, You just need a good defense. You can call us as witnesses —” 
“I'm sure I've read about a case of Hippogriff-baiting,” said Hermione thoughtfully, “where the Hippogriff got off. I'll look it up for you, Hagrid, and see exactly what happened.” 
Hagrid howled still more loudly. Harry and Hermione looked at Ron to help them. 
“Er — shall I make a cup of tea?” said Ron. 
Harry stared at him. 
“It's what my mum does whenever someone's upset,” Ron muttered, shrugging. 
At last, after many more assurances of help, with a steaming mug of tea in front of him, Hagrid blew his nose on a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth and said, “Yer right. I can’ afford to go ter pieces. Gotta pull meself together…” 
Fang the boarhound came timidly out from under the table and laid his head on Hagrid's knee. 
“I've not bin meself lately,” said Hagrid, stroking Fang with one hand and mopping his face with the other. “Worried abou’ Buckbeak, an’ no one likin’ me classes —” 
“We do like them!” lied Hermione at once. 
“Yeah, they're great!” said Ron, crossing his fingers under the table. “Er — how are the flobberworms?” 
“Dead,” said Hagrid gloomily. “Too much lettuce.” 
“Oh no!” said Ron, his lip twitching. 
“An’ them Dementors make me feel ruddy terrible an’ all,” said Hagrid, with a sudden shudder. “Gotta walk past ‘em ev'ry time I want a drink in the Three Broomsticks. ‘S like bein’ back in Azkaban —” 
He fell silent, gulping his tea. Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched him breathlessly. They had never heard Hagrid talk about his brief spell in Azkaban before. After a pause, Hermione said timidly, “Is it awful in there, Hagrid?” 
“Yeh've no idea,” said Hagrid quietly. “Never bin anywhere like it. Thought I was goin’ mad. Kep’ goin’ over horrible stuff in me mind…the day I got expelled from Hogwarts…day me dad died…day I had ter let Norbert go …” 
His eyes filled with tears. Norbert was the baby dragon Hagrid had once won in a game of cards. 
“Yeh can’ really remember who yeh are after a while. An’ yeh can’ really see the point o’ livin’ at all. I used ter hope I'd jus’ die in me sleep. When they let me out, it was like bein’ born again, ev'rythin’ came floodin’ back, it was the bes’ feelin’ in the world. Mind, the Dementors weren't keen on lettin’ me go.” 
“But you were innocent!” said Hermione. 
Hagrid snorted. 
“Think that matters to them? They don’ care. Long as they've got a couple o’ hundred humans stuck there with ‘em, so they can leech all the happiness out of ‘em, they don’ give a damn who's guilty an’ who's not.” 
Hagrid went quiet for a moment, staring into his tea. Then he said quietly, “Thought o’ jus’ letting Buckbeak go …tryin’ ter make him fly away…but how d'yeh explain ter a Hippogriff it's gotta go inter hidin'? An’ — an’ I'm scared o’ breakin’ the law…” He looked up at them, tears leaking down his face again. “I don’ ever want ter go back ter Azkaban.” 
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　* 
The trip to Hagrid's, though far from fun, had nevertheless had the effect Ron and Hermione had hoped. Though Harry had by no means forgotten about Black, he couldn't brood constantly on revenge if he wanted to help Hagrid win his case against the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. He, Ron, and Hermione went to the library the next day and returned to the empty common room laden with books that might help prepare a defense for Buckbeak. The three of them sat in front of the roaring fire, slowly turning the pages of dusty volumes about famous cases of marauding beasts, speaking occasionally when they ran across something relevant. 
“Here's something…there was a case in 1722…but the Hippogriff was convicted — ugh, look what they did to it, that's disgusting —” 
“This might help, look — a Manticore savaged someone in 1296, and they let the Manticore off — oh — no, that was only because everyone was too scared to go near it…” 
Meanwhile, in the rest of the castle, the usual magnificent Christmas decorations had been put up, despite the fact that hardly any of the students remained to enjoy them. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe were strung along the corridors, mysterious lights shone from inside every suit of armor, and the Great Hall was filled with its usual twelve Christmas trees, glittering with golden stars. A powerful and delicious smell of cooking pervaded the corridors, and by Christmas Eve, it had grown so strong that even Scabbers poked his nose out of the shelter of Ron's pocket to sniff hopefully at the air. 
On Christmas morning, Harry was woken by Ron throwing his pillow at him. 
“Oy! Presents!” 
Harry reached for his glasses and put them on, squinting through the semi-darkness to the foot of his bed, where a small heap of parcels had appeared. Ron was already ripping the paper off his own presents. 
“Another sweater from Mum…maroon again…see if you've got one.” 
Harry had. Mrs. Weasley had sent him a scarlet sweater with the Gryffindor lion knitted on the front, also a dozen home-baked mince pies, some Christmas cake, and a box of nut brittle. As he moved all these things aside, he saw a long, thin package lying underneath. 
“What's that?” said Ron, looking over, a freshly unwrapped pair of maroon socks in his hand. 
“Dunno…” 
Harry ripped the parcel open and gasped as a magnificent, gleaming broomstick rolled out onto his bedspread. Ron dropped his socks and jumped off his bed for a closer look. 
“I don't believe it,” he said hoarsely. 
It was a Firebolt, identical to the dream broom Harry had gone to see every day in Diagon Alley. Its handle glittered as he picked it up. He could feel it vibrating and let go; it hung in midair, unsupported, at exactly the right height for him to mount it. His eyes moved from the golden registration number at the top of the handle, right down to the perfectly smooth, streamlined birch twigs that made up the tail. 
“Who sent it to you?” said Ron in a hushed voice. 
“Look and see if there's a card,” said Harry. 
Ron ripped apart the Firebolt's wrappings. 
“Nothing! Blimey, who'd spend that much on you?” 
“Well,” said Harry, feeling stunned, “I'm betting it wasn't the Dursleys.” 
“I bet it was Dumbledore,” said Ron, now walking around and around the Firebolt, taking in every glorious inch. “He sent you the Invisibility Cloak anonymously…” 
“That was my dad's, though,” said Harry. “Dumbledore was just passing it on to me. He wouldn't spend hundreds of Galleons on me. He can't go giving students stuff like this —” 
“That's why he wouldn't say it was from him!” said Ron. “In case some git like Malfoy said it was favoritism. Hey, Harry —” Ron gave a great whoop of laughter — “Malfoy! Wait ‘til he sees you on this! He'll be sick as a pig! This is an international standard broom, this is!” 
“I can't believe this,” Harry muttered, running a hand along the Firebolt, while Ron sank onto Harry's bed, laughing his head off at the thought of Malfoy. “Who—?” 
“I know,” said Ron, controlling himself, “I know who it could've been — Lupin!” 
“What?” said Harry, now starting to laugh himself “Lupin? Listen, if he had this much gold, he'd be able to buy himself some new robes.” 
“Yeah, but he likes you,” said Ron. “And he was away when your Nimbus got smashed, and he might've heard about it and decided to visit Diagon Alley and get this for you —” 
“What d'you mean, he was away?” said Harry. “He was ill when I was playing in that match.” 
“Well, he wasn't in the hospital wing,” said Ron. “I was there, cleaning out the bedpans on that detention from Snape, remember?” 
Harry frowned at Ron. 
“I can't see Lupin affording something like this.” 
“What're you two laughing about?” 
Hermione had just come in, wearing her dressing gown and carrying Crookshanks, who was looking very grumpy, with a string of tinsel tied around his neck. 
“Don't bring him in here!” said Ron, hurriedly snatching Scabbers from the depths of his bed and stowing him in his pajama pocket. 
But Hermione wasn't listening. She dropped Crookshanks onto Seamus's empty bed and stared, open-mouthed, at the Firebolt. 
“Oh, Harry! Who sent you that?” 
“No idea,” said Harry. “There wasn't a card or anything with it.” 
To his great surprise, Hermione did not appear either excited or intrigued by the news. On the contrary, her face fell, and she bit her lip. 
“What's the matter with you?” said Ron. 
“I don't know,” said Hermione slowly, “but it's a bit odd, isn't it? I mean, this is supposed to be quite a good broom, isn't it?” 
Ron sighed exasperatedly. 
“It's the best broom there is, Hermione,” he said. 
“So it must've been really expensive…” 
“Probably cost more than all the Slytherins’ brooms put together,” said Ron happily. 
“Well…who'd send Harry something as expensive as that, and not even tell him they'd sent it?” said Hermione. 
“Who cares?” said Ron impatiently. “Listen, Harry, can I have a go on it? Can I?” 
“I don't think anyone should ride that broom just yet!” said Hermione shrilly. 
Harry and Ron looked at her. 
“What d'you think Harry's going to do with it — sweep the floor?” said Ron. 
But before Hermione could answer, Crookshanks sprang from Seamus's bed, right at Ron's chest. 
“GET — HIM — OUT — OF — HERE!” Ron bellowed as Crookshanks's claws ripped his pajamas and Scabbers attempted a wild escape over his shoulder. Ron seized Scabbers by the tail and aimed a misjudged kick at Crookshanks that hit the trunk at the end of Harry's bed, knocking it over and causing Ron to hop up and down, howling with pain. 
Crookshanks's fur suddenly stood on end. A shrill, tinny, whistling was filling the room. The Pocket Sneakoscope had become dislodged from Uncle Vernon's old socks and was whirling and gleaming on the floor. 
“I forgot about that!” Harry said, bending down and picking up the Sneakoscope. “I never wear those socks if I can help it…” 
The Sneakoscope whirled and whistled in his palm. Crookshanks was hissing and spitting at it. 
“You'd better take that cat out of here, Hermione,” said Ron furiously, sitting on Harry's bed nursing his toe. “Can't you shut that thing up?” he added to Harry as Hermione strode out of the room, Crookshanks's yellow eyes still fixed maliciously on Ron. 
Harry stuffed the Sneakoscope back inside the socks and threw it back into his trunk. All that could be heard now were Ron's stifled moans of pain and rage. Scabbers was huddled in Ron's hands. It had been a while since Harry had seen him out of Ron's pocket, and he was unpleasantly surprised to see that Scabbers, once so fat, was now very skinny; patches of fur seemed to have fallen out too. 
“He's not looking too good, is he?” Harry said. 
“It's stress!” said Ron. “He'd be fine if that big stupid furball left him alone!” 
But Harry, remembering what the woman at the Magical Menagerie had said about rats living only three years, couldn't help feeling that unless Scabbers had powers he had never revealed, he was reaching the end of his life. And despite Ron's frequent complaints that Scabbers was both boring and useless, he was sure Ron would be very miserable if Scabbers died. 
Christmas spirit was definitely thin on the ground in the Gryffindor common room that morning. Hermione had shut Crookshanks in her dormitory, but was furious with Ron for trying to kick him; Ron was still fuming about Crookshanks's fresh attempt to eat Scabbers. Harry gave up trying to make them talk to each other and devoted himself to examining the Firebolt, which he had brought down to the common room with him. For some reason this seemed to annoy Hermione as well; she didn't say anything, but she kept looking darkly at the broom as though it too had been criticizing her cat. 
At lunchtime they went down to the Great Hall, to find that the House tables had been moved against the walls again, and that a single table, set for twelve, stood in the middle of the room. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick were there, along with Filch, the caretaker, who had taken off his usual brown coat and was wearing a very old and rather moldy-looking tailcoat. There were only three other students, two extremely nervous-looking first years and a sullen-faced Slytherin fifth year. 
“Merry Christmas!” said Dumbledore as Harry, Ron, and Hermione approached the table. “As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the House tables…Sit down, sit down!” 
Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down side by side at the end of the table. 
“Crackers!” said Dumbledore enthusiastically, offering the end of a large silver noisemaker to Snape, who took it reluctantly and tugged. With a bang like a gunshot, the cracker flew apart to reveal a large, pointed witches hat topped with a stuffed vulture. 
Harry, remembering the Boggart, caught Ron's eye and they both grinned; Snape's mouth thinned and he pushed the hat toward Dumbledore, who swapped it for his wizard's hat at once. 
“Dig in!” he advised the table, beaming around. 
As Harry was helping himself to roast potatoes, the doors of the Great Hall opened again. It was Professor Trelawney, gliding toward them as though on wheels. She had put on a green sequined dress in honor of the occasion, making her look more than ever like a glittering, oversized dragonfly. 
“Sibyll, this is a pleasant surprise!” said Dumbledore, standing up. 
“I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster,” said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest, most faraway voice, “and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness…” 
“Certainly, certainly,” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. “Let me draw you up a chair —” 
And he did indeed draw a chair in midair with his wand, which revolved for a few seconds before falling with a thud between Professors Snape and McGonagall. Professor Trelawney, however, did not sit down; her enormous eyes had been roving around the table, and she suddenly uttered a kind of soft scream. 
“I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!” 
“We'll risk it, Sibyll,” said Professor McGonagall impatiently. “Do sit down, the turkey's getting stone cold.” 
Professor Trelawney hesitated, then lowered herself into the empty chair, eyes shut and mouth clenched tight, as though expecting a thunderbolt to hit the table. Professor McGonagall poked a large spoon into the nearest tureen. 
“Tripe, Sibyll?” 
Professor Trelawney ignored her. Eyes open again, she looked around once more and said, “But where is dear Professor Lupin?” 
“I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again,” said Dumbledore, indicating that everybody should start serving themselves. “Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day.” 
“But surely you already knew that, Sibyll?” said Professor McGonagall, her eyebrows raised. 
Professor Trelawney gave Professor McGonagall a very cold look. 
“Certainly I knew, Minerva,” she said quietly. “But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous.” 
“That explains a great deal,” said Professor McGonagall tartly. 
Professor Trelawney's voice suddenly became a good deal less misty. 
“If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him —” 
“Imagine that,” said Professor McGonagall dryly. 
“I doubt,” said Dumbledore, in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, which put an end to Professor McGonagall and Professor Trelawney's conversation, “that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?” 
“Yes, Headmaster,” said Snape. 
“Good,” said Dumbledore. “Then he should be up and about in no time…Derek, have you had any of the chipolatas? They're excellent.” 
The first-year boy went furiously red on being addressed directly by Dumbledore, and took the platter of sausages with trembling hands. 
Professor Trelawney behaved almost normally until the very end of Christmas dinner, two hours later. Full to bursting with Christmas dinner and still wearing their cracker hats, Harry and Ron got up first from the table and she shrieked loudly. 
“My dears! Which of you left his seat first? Which?” 
“Dunno,” said Ron, looking uneasily at Harry. 
“I doubt it will make much difference,” said Professor McGonagall coldly, “unless a mad axe-man is waiting outside the doors to slaughter the first into the Entrance Hall.” 
Even Ron laughed. Professor Trelawney looked highly affronted. 
“Coming?” Harry said to Hermione. 
“No,” Hermione muttered. “I want a quick word with Professor McGonagall.” 
“Probably trying to see if she can take any more classes,” yawned Ron as they make their way into the Entrance Hall, which was completely devoid of mad axe-men. 
When they reached the portrait hole they found Sir Cadogan enjoying a Christmas part with a couple of monks, several previous headmasters of Hogwarts and his fat pony. He pushed up his visor toasted them with a flagon of mead. 
“Merry — hic — Christmas! Password?” 
“Scurvy cur,” said Ron. 
“And the same to you, sir! roared Sir Cadogan, as the painting swung forward to admit them. 
Harry went straight up to the dormitory, collected his Firebolt and the Broomstick Servicing Kit Hermione had given him for his birthday, brought them downstairs and tried to find something to do with the Firebolt; however, there where no bent twigs to clip, and the handle was so shiny already it seemed pointless to polish it. He and Ron simply sat admiring it from every angle, until the portrait hole opened, and Hermione came in, accompanied by Professor McGonagall. 
Though Professor McGonagall was Head of Gryffindor House, Harry had only seen her in the common room once before, and that had been to make a very grave announcement. He and Ron stared at her, both holding the Firebolt. Hermione walked around them, sat down, picked up the nearest book and hid her face behind it. 
“So that's it, is it?” said Professor McGonagall beadily, walking over to the fireside and staring at the Firebolt. “Miss Granger has just informed me that you have been sent a broomstick, Potter.” 
Harry and Ron looked around at Hermione. They could see her forehead reddening over the top of her book, which was upside-down. 
“May I?” said Professor McGonagall, but she didn't wait for an answer before pulling the Firebolt out of their hands. She examined it carefully from handle to twig-ends. “Hmm. And there was no note at all, Potter? No card? No message of any kind?” 
“No,” said Harry blankly. 
“I see…” said Professor McGonagall. “Well, I'm afraid I will have to take this, Potter.” 
“W — what?” said Harry, scrambling to his feet. “Why?” 
“It will need to be checked for jinxes,” said Professor McGonagall. “Of course, I'm no expert, but I daresay Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick will strip it down —” 
“Strip it down?” repeated Ron, as though Professor McGonagall was mad. 
“It shouldn't take more than a few weeks,” said Professor McGonagall. “You will have it back if we are sure it is jinx-free.” 
“There's nothing wrong with it!” said Harry, his voice shaking slightly. “Honestly, Professor —” 
“You can't know that, Potter,” said Professor McGonagall, quite kindly, “not until you've flown it, at any rate, and I'm afraid that is out of the question until we are certain that it has not been tampered with. I shall keep you informed.” 
Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and carried the Firebolt out of the portrait hole, which closed behind her. Harry stood staring after her, the tin of High-Finish Polish still clutched in his hands. Ron, however, rounded on Hermione. 
“What did you go running to McGonagall for?” 
Hermione threw her book aside. She was still pink in the face, but stood up and faced Ron defiantly. 
“Because I thought — and Professor McGonagall agrees with me — that that broom was probably sent to Harry by Sirius Black!” 
哈利的记忆很模糊，隐隐约约好像他走到甜鸭的地下室里，又穿过那通道回到城堡里去了。他只记得回来的路程好像特别短，他几乎不知道他在干什么，只觉得脑海里全都是他听到的对话。 
　　为什么没有人告诉过他？丹伯多、哈格力、威斯里先生，可尼斯。 
　　法治……为什么他们都不说他父母是由于被他们的好朋友背叛而遇害的呢？ 
　　罗恩和荷米恩吃饭时都紧张地看着哈利，因为伯希正坐在他们旁边，所以不敢提及他们听到的对话。他们上楼到了拥挤的公共休息室，弗来德和乔治在公共休息室里放了几个小地雷以增加学期结束的情趣。哈利不希望弗来德和乔治问他是否去了霍格马得，偷偷地回到空空的宿舍里。他径直走近床边的书橱。他把书推到一旁，立即找到他想要的用皮革捆着的照片集，那是两年前哈格力给他的，里面有很多他爸爸和妈妈的照片。他坐在床上，把皮革绳子解开，开始翻开，一直地搜索着。 
　　过了一会儿他在他父母结婚那天拍的照片停下来了。他爸爸微笑着向他挥手，他那哈利家族所遗传下来的黑头发向各个方向散开。 
　　还有他妈妈，拉着他爸爸的手很高兴地笑着，还有一个，一定是他了，那个伴郎，哈利从来没有见过的。 
　　如果他不知道是同一个人，哈利会永远都没想到旧照片上的他就是巴拉克。他的脸并不是冷漠的蜡黄的，而是一张英俊，充满笑意的脸，当照这张照片的时候，他已经开始帮福尔得摩特工作了吗？他已经在谋划着杀害他身边这两个人的吗？他会意识到他将面临在阿兹克班度过，让他完全改变模样的十二年吗？ 
　　但是得蒙特对他没有影响，哈利盯着那张英俊的笑脸，如果他们再靠近，他可以不用再听到他妈妈的尖叫——哈利把相本合上，顺手把它塞进抽屉里。然脱下衣服，摘下眼镜上床了，把床帘弄好，好在没有人看到他。 
　　宿舍门开了。 
　　“哈利？”罗恩不大肯定地叫了一声。 
　　但是哈利直直地躺着，假装睡着了。听到罗恩的脚步声远去了，他转过身，睁开双眼。 
　　一阵空前强烈的很像监狱一样包围着哈利，他好像在黑夜中看到巴拉克在对着他笑，好像谁把那照片放在他眼前。他看着，好像有谁给他放电影一样，西里斯。 
　　巴拉克在炸彼德吉雷（他就像尼维尔），把他炸成一块一块的，他好像听到（他想像不出巴拉克的声音是怎么样的）一把低沉而又兴奋的声音：“成功了，大王，波特家族已经让我做他们的保密者……”然后是阴森的笑声，跟哈利每次见到得蒙特时听到的笑声一模一样。 
　　哈利直到天亮才睡着，他醒来时看到宿舍已经没人了。他立即穿好衣服，下到公共休息室里，那里是空荡荡的，只见罗恩正在一边按摩胃部一边吃着癞蛤蟆薄荷糖，还有荷米恩，她的功课本撂满了三张桌子。 
　　“其他人去那里了？”哈利问。 
　　“喂，现在是放假的第一天，还记得吗？”罗恩细细地看着哈利说。 
　　“现在差不多中午了，我正准备上去叫醒你。” 
　　“哈利，你的脸色很难看。” 
　　哈利在火炉旁边一张桌子上猛地坐下去。窗外仍然下着大雪。 
　　克路殊克在火炉前地躺着，活像一张大毛毯。 
　　“你的脸色真的不大好，知道吗？”荷米恩看着他的脸忧虑地说。 
　　“我没事。”哈利说。 
　　“哈利，你听着，”荷米恩跟罗恩交换眼光说，“你一定是为了我们昨天听到的话而难过，但是，你千万不要做任何蠢事。” 
　　“做什么蠢事？”哈利问。 
　　“例如去找巴拉克。”罗恩尖锐地说。 
　　哈利可以看出来，他睡觉的时候他们是排练过这段对话的，但是他没有说些什么。 
　　“哈利，你不会的，对吗？”荷米恩说。 
　　“因为巴拉克不值得你去给他送死。”罗恩说。 
　　哈利看着他们，他们有点糊涂了。 
　　“你们知道每次那得蒙特靠近我的时候，我看到什么，听到什么吗？”罗恩和荷米恩迷惑地摇摇头。“我听到我妈妈的尖叫声，她还向福尔得摩特求情，如果你听到你妈妈那样尖叫，在临死之前的尖叫，你不会轻易地忘掉的。并且如果你知道这是因为她的好朋友背叛她——” 
　　“但是你并不能够做些什么！”罗恩惊恐地说，“得蒙特会抓住巴拉克，并把他送回阿兹克班的，去受他该受的罪。” 
　　“你听到法治说吗，巴拉克不像一般的人，他不受得蒙特的影响。 
　　他并不像其他人一样在那里受罪。“”那你要干什么？“罗恩紧张地看着他，”你想去——想去杀了巴拉克还是干别的事？“ 
　　“别傻了，”荷米恩惊恐地说，“哈利不想去杀任何人，对吗，哈利？” 
　　哈利没有回答，他不知道他想怎么样。他只想到让巴拉克逍遥法外，而自己什么都不做，这是不能忍受的。 
　　“马尔夫知道，”他唐突地说，“还记得上药剂课时他跟我说了什么？如果我是你，我会自己去找他的，我要报仇。” 
　　“你准备听马尔夫的话而不听我们的？”罗恩愤怒地说，“听着，你知道彼德吉雷死了后，他妈妈从那里得到什么？爸爸告诉我——在一级的墓园里葬着的是装有彼德吉雷的手指的盒子，那是他们能找到的最大一块了，巴拉克是疯子，哈利，他很危险——” 
　　“马尔夫的爸爸肯定已经告诉他了。”哈利不理会罗恩说，“福尔得摩特，他永远是对的。” 
　　“说‘那个人’好吗？”罗恩反驳他说。 
　　“——因此，很明显，马尔夫一家子知道巴拉克为福尔得摩特干活的。” 
　　“——而且，马尔夫很想见到你跟彼德吉雷一样被炸成一百万块！你清醒一点，马尔夫想你在跟他在打快迪斯之前被杀了。” 
　　“哈利，求求你了，”荷米恩说，她的眼里面闪着泪花，“求求你理智一点。 
　　巴拉克已经做了很恐怖很恐怖的事了，你自己不要去冒险，否则正中巴拉克下怀… 
　　…哦，哈利如果你去找他的话，等于送死，你爸爸妈妈不会让你这样做的，好吗？ 
　　他们永远不会让你去找巴拉克的。“ 
　　“多亏了巴拉克了，否则我永远都不会知道我父母想我怎么样。 
　　我还没有跟他们说过话。“然后是一阵沉默，克路殊克懒懒地伸长身子，动动他的爪子，罗恩的衣袋颤动了一下。 
　　“看，‘罗恩看看周围，很直接地找另外的话题，”今天放假了，也差不多到圣诞节了，我们——我们去探望一下哈格力吧，我们很久没有去了。“”不！“荷米恩急忙一说，”哈利不应该离开城堡的，罗恩——“ 
　　“对，我们去吧，”哈利站起来说，“我也可以问问他为什么跟我说我父母时从来没有提及过巴拉克！” 
　　很明显，罗恩不想再讨论西里斯。巴拉克的事了。 
　　“也许我们可以玩一盘棋，”他犹豫地说，“伯希留下了一套——” 
　　“不，我们去探望哈格力。‘哈利坚决地说。 
　　于是他们回宿舍里拿起大衣，来到那画像口前说了暗语，（“站在这里决斗，你这黄色肚皮的狗杂种！”），门开了，他们经过空空的城堡，从一个橡木门前出来。 
　　他们在草地上慢慢向下走，在粉末一般白亮的雪地上留下浅浅的脚印，他们的袜子和大衣的缝边都湿了，冷冰冰的。禁忌森林很迷人，每棵树都挂满了雪，而哈格力的小屋就像一块冰糕。 
　　罗恩敲敲门，但是没有人应。 
　　“他不是出去了吧？”荷米恩在大衣里打着冷战站着说。 
　　罗思把耳朵贴在门上。 
　　“里面有混浊的声音，”他说，“听——那是不是弗兰？” 
　　哈利和行米恩也把耳朵贴在门上，小屋里面有连续的颤抖的呻吟声。 
　　“我想我们最好是叫人来看看。”罗恩紧张地说。 
　　“哈格力！”哈利大声喊，他敲着门，“哈格力，有人吗？” 
　　里面传来沉沉的脚步声，门打开了，哈格力站在那里，眼睛又红又肿，泪水掉在他的皮背心上打湿了一大片。 
　　“你听到了！”他咕噜了一声，然后扑到哈利身上楼着他的脖子。 
　　这不是说笑的，哈格力的身形是一般人的两倍，哈利在哈格力的重压下决要倒下去了，罗恩和荷米恩立即捉住哈格力的手臂扶着他，他们走进小屋里。哈格力坐在一张椅子上，趴在桌子上，情不自禁的哭着，他的脸都被泪水打湿了，泪水淌到他乱蓬蓬的胡子上。 
　　“哈格力，什么事了？”荷米恩惊呆地问。 
　　哈利看到桌子上有一封开了口的公事信。 
　　“那是什么，哈格力？” 
　　哈格力的哭声更大了，他把信推到哈刮面前，哈利读了起来来。 
　　亲爱的哈格力先生：经过对河马鹿袭击你班一名学生一事的详细调查，我们接受了丹伯多教授的担保，你对这遗憾的事完全没有责任。 
　　“哇，那没事了，哈格力！”罗恩拍着哈格力的肩膀说，但是哈格力继续哭，并挥挥他的大手示意哈利读下去。 
　　但是，我们已经讨论过河马鹿这问题了，我们已经决定支持露布斯。马尔夫先生的投诉，把这件事交给消灭危险动物委员会处理，审讯会在四月二十日进行，届时请你带着你的河马鹿到伦敦的委员会办公室去，同时那只河马鹿必须有人管制。 
　　敬礼全体成员然后跟着的是一大串政府人员的名单。 
　　“哦，”罗恩说，“但是你说毕克碧并不是坏的河马鹿的，哈格力，我敢肯定它会没事的……” 
　　“你根本就不熟悉消灭危险动物委员会里的那些怪人！”哈格力抽噎着说，他用袖子擦擦眼泪，“他们对动物特别有兴趣！” 
　　突然从哈格力小屋的一角传来一个声音，哈利、罗恩和荷米思都转过去看。那河马鹿毕克碧正在在墙角那里躺着，正在努力地咬着什么，那东西的血滴落到地板上。 
　　“我不能把他绑在那雪地里。”哈格力吞着泪水说，“一个人孤单在那里！在圣诞节这天。” 
　　哈利，罗恩和荷米恩对望一下，他们对他所称的“有趣的动物”和称那些人为“恐怖的怪兽”有着前所未有的同感，另一方面，毕克碧看上去一点都不危险，事实上，就像哈格力平时所说的，它简直是十分可爱。 
　　“你可要说出有力的证据，哈格力。”荷米恩坐下来，把手放在哈格力强壮的手臂上，“我敢肯定你能够证明毕克碧是安全的动物的。” 
　　“没用的！”哈格力哭着说，“他们那些坏蛋，都是马尔夫那伙人，对他都很害怕的，如果我输了，毕克碧就会——” 
　　哈格力用手指在他喉咙快速划了一下，然后又痛哭起来，向前一俯，把脸埋在手臂上。 
　　“那么，丹伯多怎么样，哈格力？”哈利问。 
　　“他已经帮我做了很多了，”哈格力呻吟着，“他自己的事也够多了，又要保 
　　持不让得蒙特进来，又要到处找巴拉克……“ 
　　罗恩和荷米恩迅速望向哈利，好像知道他会责问哈格力为什么没有把巴拉克的真相告诉他了，但是哈利没有这样做，他看到哈格力现在已经够难过够恐惧的了。 
　　“听着，哈格力，”他说，“你不能放弃，荷米恩是对的，你要找一个很好的理由，我们可以做证人——” 
　　“我读过一个关于河马鹿的案件，”荷米恩想着说，“河马鹿胜了。 
　　我会帮你找找的，看看究竟是什么回事。“哈格力哭得更大声了。哈格力和荷米恩示意罗恩帮帮忙。 
　　“嗯——你要不要倒一杯茶呢？”罗恩说。 
　　哈利瞪着他。 
　　“我妈妈看到人伤心的时候总是这样做的。”罗恩咕啃着，耸耸肩。 
　　最后，经过反反复复保证了几次要帮他，还有他面前一杯冒着气的茶，哈格力才用一块跟桌布一般大的手帕擦擦鼻子，说，“你们说对了，我不能一蹶不振的，我要重新努力……” 
　　哈格力挺着身子，一边擦脸一边说：“在担心毕克碧之余还有一件伤心事，班里都没有人喜欢我——” 
　　“我们都喜欢你。”荷米思立即说。 
　　“对呀！”罗恩把交叉的手指放在桌子上，“嗯——你养的那些小动物怎么样了？” 
　　“死了。”哈格力伤心地说，“吃得太多莴苣了。” 
　　“哦，不！‘罗恩说，他的嘴唇抽搐着。 
　　“还有得蒙特他们让我觉得很沮丧，”哈格力突然抱怨起来，“每次去‘三扫帚’喝酒都要从他们身边经过，好像从阿兹克班回来一样。” 
　　他沉默了，慢慢地喝着茶，哈利。罗恩和荷米恩屏着呼吸看着他，他们从来没有听过哈格力说过半句有关阿兹克班的话，停顿了一会儿后，荷米恩小心地问：“那里很恐怖，是吗，哈格力？” 
　　“你不能想象的。”哈格力冷静地说，“没有地方像那里的。我好像要发疯了，脑海里总是涌现各种各样恐怖的东西……被霍格瓦彻开除那天……我爸爸去死的那天……我要放弃诺贝特那天……” 
　　他的眼睛充满泪水，诺贝特是他在玩扑克时赢来的龙宝宝。 
　　“过一会儿你就记不起你是谁，不知道为什么活着，我以前希望我睡着的时候死去……当他们放我出来时，好像获得重生，所有的事又再次记起，那是世界上最好的感觉，知道吗，得蒙特不大喜欢让我走。” 
　　“但你是清白的呀。”荷米恩说。 
　　哈格力哼了一声。 
　　“那跟他们有什么关系？他们是不在乎的，只要有几百个人在他们那里，他们就可以把他们的快乐吸出来，根本不理会是否清白的。” 
　　哈格力盯着他的茶，静下来一会儿，然后又低声地说，“我想过让毕克碧走，让它飞走……但是我怎么解释我把一只河马鹿放走呢？ 
　　而且——我怕违反纪律……“他抬起头看着他们，泪水又到他的脸上，”我不想再去阿兹克班了。“对哈格力的探望一点都不好玩，但却达到了罗恩和荷米恩所希望的效果。虽然哈利无论如何也忘不了巴拉克的事，但如果他要帮哈格力在案件中赢消灭危险动物委员会，他就不能总是想报仇的事。 
　　他、罗恩和荷米恩第二天去了图书馆，然后带着一大堆书回到空荡荡的公共休息室里，这些书可能对毕克碧的辩护有帮助的。他们三个坐在红红的大火前慢慢地翻着关系到杀掠动物的著名案件。当他们看到涉及的章节就讨论。 
　　“这里有一些……是1722年的案件……但是那河马鹿被判决了——唉，看他们做了些什么，真让人讨厌——” 
　　“这可能有帮助，看——一只人面狮身怪物，攻击一个人，但他们放了那人面狮身怪物——嗯，不，那只是因为人们太害怕而不敢得罪它……” 
　　这时候，城堡的其它地方，已经用美丽的圣诞节饰物装饰得很漂亮了，虽然去玩的只有那寥寥无儿的留校学生。走廊上挂满了彩旗和各种各样的树枝，而每套盔甲都发出神秘的光。大厅里有十二棵圣诞树，树上的金星闪闪发亮。走廊上飘着扑鼻的菜香味，香味尤其诱人，就连斯卡伯斯都从罗思的口袋里伸出鼻子在空气中闻个够。 
　　在圣诞节早上，哈利被罗思推醒。 
　　“喂！礼物！” 
　　哈利伸手取出眼镜并戴上它，在半亮的房间里向他床下面看，下面有一堆包裹，罗恩正在乐滋滋地打开自己那份礼物。 
　　“妈妈又送了一条棉裤……嗯……又是茶色的，看你有没有。” 
　　哈利也有，威斯里太太送了他一条深红色的棉裤，前面打了一只格林芬顿狮子，还有一打自己烤的馅饼，一些圣诞糕，还有一盒脆栗子。他把这些礼物推到一边时，他看到一包又长又窄的包裹躺在下面。 
　　“那是什么？”罗恩看过来，手里还拿着刚刚拆开的茶色的袜子。 
　　“不知道。” 
　　哈利把包裹撕开，看到一条很漂亮的，闪闪发亮的扫帚滚到床上。罗恩扔下袜子从他的床上跳下去仔细看看。 
　　“难以令人相信。‘他几乎尖叫说。 
　　这是霹雳扫帚，跟哈利在戴河宫道时天天都去看的那条一模一样。他拿起它时，它的手柄闪亮着，他可以感觉到它的震动，放开它时，它便停在半空，用很适合的高度让哈利骑上去，他的视线从手把柄上的金色的注册号码移到那圆滑的流线的禅树梢做成的扫帚尾上。 
　　“谁送给你的？”罗恩细声地问。 
　　“看看是否有卡片。”哈利说。 
　　罗恩撕开霹雳的包装纸。 
　　“没有！啊呀，是谁在你身上花那么多钱？” 
　　“哦，”哈利感到很惊愕，“我敢保证不是杜斯利家里的人。” 
　　“我敢打赌是丹伯多。”罗恩说，他在霹雳旁边走来走去，观赏着扫帚的每一寸地方。“他连隐形斗篷也不留名送给你了……” 
　　“但是，那可是我爸爸的。”哈和说，“丹怕多只是转手给我。他不会在我身上花几百个金币的，他总不会送给学生这些礼物……” 
　　“那就是他不肯说是他送的了！”罗恩说，“怕让马尔夫这样的人说他偏心，唉，哈利——”罗恩大声地笑起来。“马尔夫，等着瞧，让他看到这扫帚，他肯定病得像猪一样！这可是国际标准的，看这里！” 
　　“我几乎不能相信，”哈利细声说，他的手在霹雳上下地摩挲着，而罗思则躺在哈利的床上想象着马尔夫的病样子大笑。 
　　“我知道，”罗恩说，他控制着自己，“我知道，可能是——露平。” 
　　“什么？”哈利说，他自己也开始笑起来，“露平？听着，如果他也有这么多的金币的话，他肯定会去买一些新的衣服了！” 
　　“对呀，但是他喜欢你嘛。”罗思说，“而且你的灵光2000毁坏的时候，他在外面，可能他听到了，就决定去戴阿宫道买这个给你——” 
　　“你这是什么意思呀，他在外面？”哈利说，“我打那场比赛的时候他病了。” 
　　“嗯，总之他不在医院里，”罗恩说，“我在那里，史纳皮让我把医院的床单都洗一遍，记得吗？” 
　　哈利向罗恩皱皱眉头。 
　　“我认为露平不够钱买这样的东西。” 
　　“你们俩在笑什么呀？” 
　　荷米恩刚进来，她穿上了连衣裙，还抱着克路殊克。那猫看上去特别乖，颈上还系着一串金属链。 
　　“不要带它到这里来！”罗恩说，他急忙从床上抓住斯卡伯斯，并放到他的睡衣袋里面。但荷米思没有听他的。她把克路殊克放到谢默斯的空床上，然后半张开口盯着霹雳。 
　　“哦，哈利，谁送那给你的？” 
　　“不知道。”哈利说，“那里没有卡片或别的东西。” 
　　让他奇怪的是，这次荷米恩没有表现得很兴奋或者报忧虑，相反，她的脸很平静，而她在咬着嘴唇。 
　　“怎么啦你？”罗恩说。 
　　“我不知道。”荷米恩慢慢地说，“但是这有点奇怪，不觉得吗？我的意思是，这可是很好的扫帚，不是吗！” 
　　罗恩兴奋地叹了口气。 
　　“这是那里最好的扫帚了，荷米恩。”他说。 
　　“因此它肯定非常贵了……” 
　　“可能比所有史林德林他们的扫帚加起来还要贵。”罗恩高兴地说。 
　　“嗯……谁送哈利这么贵重的礼物呢，而且连名字都不肯留？”荷米恩说。 
　　“管他呢？”罗恩不耐烦地说，“听着，哈利，我可以坐上去试试吗？ 
　　可以吗？“ 
　　“我想我们现在还不应该骑上那扫帚！”荷米恩激动地说。 
　　哈利和罗恩都看着她。 
　　“那你想哈利用它来干什么，——用来扫地？”罗恩说。 
　　但荷米恩还没来得及回答，克路殊克从谢默斯的床上起来，直冲罗恩胸部。 
　　“让它滚开！”罗恩大声喊，这时克路殊克的爪已经撕破他的睡衣，而斯卡伯斯则疯狂地逃，爬过他的肩膀。罗恩抓住了斯卡伯斯的尾巴，并向着克路殊克踢过去，但是却踢到哈利的床脚上，狠狠地撞了一下，罗恩当场跳起来，痛得大声嚎叫。 
　　克路殊克的毛突然竖起来，一声又长又细的声音在房间里响起来。那个史尼卡可袋从维能姨丈的旧袜子里跳出来，在地上发着光盘旋着。 
　　“我都忘了那个了！”哈利说，他弯下腰捡起史尼卡可，“我从没有穿过那双袜子。” 
　　那史尼卡可在他手掌中旋转着，发出尖叫声，而克路殊克则对着它嘶嘶地叫着。 
　　“你最好把那猫赶出去，荷米恩。”罗恩气愤地说，他正坐在哈利的床上，翘起鼻子。“你不可以把那东西关起来吗？”他对着荷米恩插上一句，这时荷米恩正迈出房间，克路殊克的黄眼睛还是充满敌意地看着罗恩。 
　　哈利把史尼卡可塞回到袜子里，扔回到他的皮箱里，房间里只剩下罗恩的呻吟声和牢骚声。斯卡伯斯躲在罗恩的手里，哈利看到它从罗恩的衣袋里出来好一阵子了，他惊奇地发觉斯卡伯斯变了，曾经那么胖现在已经是皮包骨的样子了，身上有好几处的毛都跌下来了。 
　　“它看上去不太好了，是吗？”哈利问。 
　　“紧张呀！”罗恩说，“如果那块笨东西不搞它，它就好了。” 
　　但是哈利记得那间魔法动物商店的妇女说老鼠只能活三年，他禁不住想除非斯卡伯斯有不为人知的本领，否则它已经接近生命的终点了。虽然罗恩经常埋怨斯卡伯斯又无聊又没用，但如果它死了，他肯定会很伤心的。 
　　那天在格林芬顿的公共休息室里，圣诞的节日气氛很淡。荷米恩已把克路殊克关在她宿舍里，但她因为罗恩想踢它而感到很气愤，罗恩仍在埋怨克路殊克想吃掉斯卡伯斯。哈利不再理会他们的对骂，而是埋头看他的霹雳，他把它带到公共休息室来，但是这也某程度上惹怒了荷米恩，她没有说些什么，只是默不作声地看着那扫帚，好像它也冒犯了她的猫一样。 
　　在午餐时间，他们下去大厅，发现大厅里的桌子又被移到墙边。 
　　大厅中间放着一张坐十二个人的桌子，丹伯多教授，麦康娜、史纳皮和费立维克都在，还有费驰，那个管理员，他已经换去平时穿的那件褐色的大衣，穿上了一只很旧的看上去发霉的大衣，还有三个学生，两个很紧张的一年级生，还有一个阴沉着脸的史林德林的五年级学生。 
　　“圣诞快乐！”丹伯多谈看到哈利，罗恩和荷米恩走近桌子时说，“因为我们只有几个人，用那么多桌子显得很局促……坐下，坐下！” 
　　哈利、罗恩和荷米恩在桌子的末端并排坐下来。 
　　“鞭炮！”丹伯多热情地说，把一串银色的东西递过去给史纳皮，史纳皮好像很不情愿地接过去。然后“砰”的一声响，如同枪声，鞭炮便飞开了，露出一项很大的巫婆的帽子，上面还有一支秃鹰的毛。 
　　哈利想起了布格特，看到罗恩的眼睛，他们都列开嘴笑了。史纳皮扁扁嘴，把帽推过去给丹伯多，他立即把它变成了一项巫师用的帽子。 
　　“来吃吧。”他对在场人笑笑说。 
　　当哈利正在吃烤土豆的时候，大厅的门又开了。是特雷络尼教授，她好像站在轮子上一般滑过来，为了庆祝节日，她今天穿上了一件有绿盔甲的衣服，看起来比精蜒还多姿多彩。 
　　“哎呀，这可真是一个惊喜。”丹伯多站起来说。 
　　“我在着晶球，校长，”特雷络尼教授用她那最柔和缥缈的声音说，“让我奇怪的是，我放弃了我的团圆饭来这里加入你们，我怎么会拒绝命运的安排呢？我在塔上已经很急忙地下来了，我真希望你们可以原谅我的迟到……” 
　　“当然，当然，”丹伯多眨着眼睛说，“我给你这椅子——” 
　　他真的用魔杖在空中拉出一张椅子，它在空中转了几秒钟后“砰”后～声落在史纳皮教授和麦康娜教授之间。但是特雷络尼教授并没有坐下来，她的大眼睛在桌于周围扫着，然后突然间发出一声温柔的尖叫声。 
　　“我不敢，校长！如果我再加入这张桌子，我们就会有十三个人！ 
　　没有比这更不吉祥的了！不要忘记如果十三个人一起吃饭，第一个站起来的人会最先死！“”我们试一试吧，“麦康娜教授不耐烦地说，”请坐下吧，那火腿快要像石头一样冷了。“ 
　　特雷络尼教授还有犹豫，然后在那空椅上坐下来，闭着眼睛，紧闭着嘴，好像地雷将要在桌子上炸开一样，麦康娜教授把一个大舀子放在最靠近的锅盖上。 
　　“试一下吧。” 
　　特雷络尼教授没有理会她。她的眼睛又睁开，又看看四周然后说，“但是，露平教授在哪？” 
　　“我估计那可怜的家伙又病了。”丹伯多说着向大家示意动筷吃，“最不幸的竟然在圣诞节这天。” 
　　“看上去你好像很清楚，教授。”麦康娜教授抬起眉毛说。 
　　特雷络尼教授冷冷地看了麦康娜教授一眼。 
　　“我当然知道了，”她平静地说，“但如果一个人什么都知道的时候，他通常都不会炫耀出来的，我经常假装我没有心灵之眼，好让大家都不用紧张。” 
　　“那已经解释够多了。”麦康娜教授酸酸地说。 
　　特雷络尼教授的声音突然变得没有那么朦胧了。 
　　“你应该知道，我已经看出可怜的露平教授不会与我们在一起多久了。他好像也知道自己的时日无多了。当我说把晶球给他看的时候，他逃开了……” 
　　“可以想象。”麦康娜教授干冷地说。 
　　“我怀疑，”丹伯多激动而稍为高音地说，这样使到麦康娜教授和特雷络尼教授的对话结束了，“那露平教授是否有危险了，西摩斯，你又制药给他吃了？” 
　　“是的，校长。”史纳皮说。 
　　“好，”丹伯多说，“那么他很快就会没事了，迪瑞可，你有没有吃这种香肠？ 
　　好吃极了。“ 
　　那个一年级的男孩因为校长直接跟他说话而脸红起来了，便用颤抖的手把那小碟香肠拿过去。 
　　特雷络尼教授安静地吃着，直到两小时后，到了圣诞餐结束的时刻，哈利和罗思仍然戴着那鞭炮帽子，他们都在圣诞大赛上吃得饱饱的，于是都在桌子旁站起来，特雷络尼教授大声地尖叫。 
　　“天啊，你们中谁先站起来的，谁？” 
　　“不知道。”罗恩紧张地看着哈
Chapter 12 The Patronus
Harry knew that Hermione had meant well, but that didn't stop him from being angry with her. He had been the owner of the best broom in the world for a few short hours, and now, because of her interference, he didn't know whether he would ever see it again. He was positive that there was nothing wrong with the Firebolt now, but what sort of state would it be in once it had been subjected to all sorts of anti-jinx tests? 
Ron was furious with Hermione too. As far as he was concerned, the stripping-down of a brand-new Firebolt was nothing less than criminal damage. Hermione, who remained convinced that she had acted for the best, started avoiding the common room. Harry and Ron supposed she had taken refuge in the library and didn't try to persuade her to come back. All in all, they were glad when the rest of the school returned shortly after New Year, and Gryffindor Tower became crowded and noisy again. Wood sought Harry out on the night before term started. 
“Had a good Christmas?” he said, and then, without waiting for an answer, he sat down, lowered his voice, and said, “I've been, doing some thinking over Christmas, Harry. After last match, you know. If the Dementors come to the next one…I mean…we can't afford you to — well —” 
Wood broke off, looking awkward. 
“I'm working on it,” said Harry quickly. “Professor Lupin said he'd train me to ward off the Dementors. We should be starting this week. He said he'd have time after Christmas.” 
“Ah,” said Wood, his expression clearing. “Well, in that case — I really didn't want to lose you as Seeker, Harry. And have you ordered a new broom yet?” 
“No,” said Harry. 
“What! You'd better get a move on, you know — you can't ride that Shooting Star against Ravenclaw!” 
“He got a Firebolt for Christmas,” said Ron. 
“A Firebolt? No! Seriously? A — a real Firebolt?” 
“Don't get excited, Oliver,” said Harry gloomily. “I haven't got it anymore. It was confiscated.” And he explained all about how the Firebolt was now being checked for jinxes. 
“Jinxed? How could it be jinxed?” 
“Sirius Black,” Harry said wearily. “He's supposed to be after me. So McGonagall reckons he might have sent it.” 
Waving aside the information that a famous murderer was after his Seeker, Wood said, “But Black couldn't have bought a Firebolt! He's on the run! The whole country's on the lookout for him! How could he just walk into Quality Quidditch Supplies and buy a broomstick?” 
“I know,” said Harry, “but McGonagall still wants to strip it down —” 
Wood went pale. 
“I'll go and talk to her, Harry,” he promised. “I'll make her see reason…A Firebolt…a real Firebolt, on our team …She wants Gryffindor to win as much as we do…I'll make her see sense. A Firebolt.…” 
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　* 
Classes started again the next day. The last thing anyone felt like doing was spending two hours on the grounds on a raw January morning, but Hagrid had provided a bonfire full of salamanders for their enjoyment, and they spent an unusually good lesson collecting dry wood and leaves to keep the fire blazing while the flame-loving lizards scampered up and down the crumbling, white-hot logs. The first Divination lesson of the new term was much less fun; Professor Trelawney was now teaching them palmistry, and she lost no time in informing Harry that he had the shortest life line she had ever seen. 
It was Defense Against the Dark Arts that Harry was keen to get to; after his conversation with Wood, he wanted to get started on his anti-Dementor lessons as soon as possible. 
“Ah yes,” said Lupin, when Harry reminded him of his promise at the end of class. “Let me see…how about eight o'clock on Thursday evening? The History of Magic classroom should be large enough…I'll have to think carefully about how we're going to do this…We can't bring a real Dementor into the castle to practice on….” 
“Still looks ill, doesn't he?” said Ron as they walked down the corridor, heading to dinner. “What d'you reckon's the matter with him?” 
There was a loud and impatient “tuh” from behind them. It was Hermione, who had been sitting at the feet of a suit of armor, repacking her bag, which was so full of books it wouldn't close. 
“And what are you tutting at us for?” said Ron irritably. 
“Nothing,” said Hermione in a lofty voice, heaving her bag back over her shoulder. 
“Yes, you were,” said Ron. “I said I wonder what's wrong with Lupin, and you —” 
“Well, isn't it obvious?” said Hermione, with a look of maddening superiority. 
“If you don't want to tell us, don't,” snapped Ron. 
“Fine,” said Hermione haughtily, and she marched off. 
“She doesn't know,” said Ron, staring resentfully after Hermione. “She's just trying to get us to talk to her again.” 
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　* 
At eight o'clock on Thursday evening, Harry left Gryffindor Tower for the History of Magic classroom. It was dark and empty when he arrived, but he lit the lamps with his wand and had waited only five minutes when Professor Lupin turned up, carrying a large packing case, which he heaved onto Professor Binn's desk. 
“What's that?” said Harry. 
“Another Boggart,” said Lupin, stripping off his cloak. “I've been combing the castle ever since Tuesday, and very luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr. Filch's filing cabinet. It's the nearest we'll get to a real Dementor. The Boggart will turn into a Dementor when he sees you, so we'll be able to practice on him. I can store him in my office when we're not using him; there's a cupboard under my desk he'll like.” 
“Okay,” said Harry, trying to sound as though he wasn't apprehensive at all and merely glad that Lupin had found such a good substitute for a real Dementor. 
“So…” Professor Lupin had taken out his own wand, and indicated that Harry should do the same. “The spell I am going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic, Harry — well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the Patronus Charm.” 
“How does it work?” said Harry nervously. 
“Well, when it works correctly, It conjures up a Patronus,” said Lupin, “which is a kind of anti-Dementor — a guardian that acts as a shield between you and the Dementor.” 
Harry had a sudden vision of himself crouching behind a Hagrid-sized figure holding a large club. Professor Lupin continued, “The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the Dementor feeds upon — hope, happiness, the desire to survive — but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the Dementors can't hurt it. But I must warn you, Harry, that the charm might be too advanced for you. Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it.” 
“What does a Patronus look like?” said Harry curiously. 
“Each one is unique to the wizard who conjures it.” 
“And how do you conjure it?” 
“With an incantation, which will work only if you are concentrating, with all your might, on a single, very happy memory.” 
Harry cast his mind about for a happy memory. Certainly, nothing that had happened to him at the Dursleys’ was going to do. Finally, he settled on the moment when he had first ridden a broomstick. 
“Right,” he said, trying to recall as exactly as possible the wonderful, soaring sensation of his stomach. 
“The incantation is this —” Lupin cleared his throat. “Expecto patronum!” 
“Expecto patronum,” Harry repeated under his breath, “expecto patronum.” 
“Concentrating hard on your happy memory?” 
“Oh — yeah —” said Harry, quickly forcing his thoughts back to that first broom ride. “Expecto patrono — no, patronum — sorry — expecto patronum, expecto patronum” 
Something whooshed suddenly out of the end of his wand; it looked like a wisp of silvery gas. 
“Did you see that?” said Harry excitedly. “Something happened!” 
“Very good,” said Lupin, smiling. “Right, then — ready to try it on a Dementor?” 
“Yes,” Harry said, gripping his wand very tightly, and moving into the middle of the deserted classroom. He tried to keep his mind on flying, but something else kept intruding…Any second now, he might hear his mother again…but he shouldn't think that, or he would hear her again, and he didn't want to…or did he? 
Lupin grasped the lid of the packing case and pulled. 
A Dementor rose slowly from the box, its hooded face turned toward Harry, one glistening, scabbed hand gripping its cloak. The lamps around the classroom flickered and went out. The Dementor stepped from the box and started to sweep silently toward Harry, drawing a deep, rattling breath. A wave of piercing cold broke over him — 
“Expecto patronum!” Harry yelled. “Expecto patronum! Expecto —” 
But the classroom and the Dementor were dissolving…Harry was falling again through thick white fog, and his mother's voice was louder than ever, echoing inside his head — “Not Harry! Not Harry! Please — I'll do anything —” 
“Stand aside — stand aside, girl —” 
“Harry!” 
Harry jerked back to life. He was lying flat on his back on the floor. The classroom lamps were alight again. He didn't have to ask what had happened. 
“Sorry,” he muttered, sitting up and feeling cold sweat trickling down behind his glasses. 
“Are you all right?” said Lupin. 
“Yes…” Harry pulled himself up on one of the desks and leaned against it. 
“Here —” Lupin handed him a Chocolate Frog. “Eat this before we try again. I didn't expect you to do it your first time; in fact, I would have been astounded if you had.” 
“It's getting worse,” Harry muttered, biting off the Frog's head. “I could hear her louder that time — and him — Voldemort —” 
Lupin looked paler than usual. 
“Harry, if you don't want to continue, I will more than understand —” 
“I do!” said Harry fiercely, stuffing the rest of the Chocolate Frog into his mouth. “I've got to! What if the Dementors turn up at our match against Ravenclaw? I can't afford to fall off again. If we lose this game we've lost the Quidditch Cup!” 
“All right then…” said Lupin. “You might want to select another memory, a happy memory, I mean, to concentrate on…That one doesn't seem to have been strong enough…” 
Harry thought hard and decided his feelings when Gryffindor had won the House Championship last year had definitely qualified as very happy. He gripped his wand tightly again and took up his position in the middle of the classroom. 
“Ready?” said Lupin, gripping the box lid. 
“Ready,” said Harry; trying hard to fill his head with happy thoughts about Gryffindor winning, and not dark thoughts about what was going to happen when the box opened. 
“Go!” said Lupin, pulling off the lid. The room went icily cold and dark once more. The Dementor glided forward, drawing its breath; one rotting hand was extending toward Harry — 
“Expecto patronum!” Harry yelled. “Expecto patronum! Expecto Pat —” 
White fog obscured his senses…big, blurred shapes were moving around him…then came a new voice, a man's voice, shouting, panicking — 
“Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off —” 
The sounds of someone stumbling from a room — a door bursting open — a cackle of high- pitched laughter — 
“Harry! Harry…wake up…” 
Lupin was tapping Harry hard on the face. This time it was a minute before Harry understood why he was lying on a dusty classroom floor. 
“I heard my dad,” Harry mumbled. “That's the first time I've ever heard him — he tried to take on Voldemort himself, to give my mum time to run for it…” 
Harry suddenly realized that there were tears on his face mingling with the sweat. He bent his face as low as possible, wiping them off on his robes, pretending to do up his shoelace, so that Lupin wouldn't see. 
“You heard James?” said Lupin in a strange voice. 
“Yeah…” Face dry, Harry looked up. “Why — you didn't know my dad, did you?” 
“I — I did, as a matter of fact,” said Lupin. “We were friends at Hogwarts. Listen, Harry — perhaps we should leave it here for tonight. This charm is ridiculously advanced…I shouldn't have suggested putting you through this…” 
“No!” said Harry. He got up again. “I'll have one more go! I'm not thinking of happy enough things, that's what it is…hang on…” 
He racked his brains. A really, really happy memory…one that he could turn into a good, strong Patronus.… 
The moment when he'd first found out he was a wizard, and would be leaving the Dursleys for Hogwarts! If that wasn't a happy memory, he didn't know what was…Concentrating very hard on how he had felt when he'd realized he'd be leaving Privet Drive, Harry got to his feet and faced the packing case once more. 
“Ready?” said Lupin, who looked as though he were doing this against his better judgment. “Concentrating hard? All right — go!” 
He pulled off the lid of the case for the third time, and the Dementor rose out of it; the room fell cold and dark — 
“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry bellowed. “EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECTO PATRONUM!” 
The screaming inside Harry's head had started again — except this time, it sounded as though it were coming from a badly tuned radio — softer and louder and softer again…and he could still see the Dementor…it had halted…and then a huge, silver shadow came bursting out of the end of Harry's wand, to hover between him and the Dementor, and though Harry's legs felt like water, he was still on his feet — though for how much longer, he wasn't sure… 
“Riddikulus!” roared Lupin, springing forward. 
There was a loud crack, and Harry's cloudy Patronus vanished along with the Dementor; he sank into a chair, feeling as exhausted as if he'd just run a mile, and felt his legs shaking. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Professor Lupin forcing the Boggart back into the packing case with his wand; it had turned into a silvery orb again. 
“Excellent!” Lupin said, striding over to where Harry sat. “Excellent, Harry! That was definitely a start!” 
“Can we have another go? Just one more go?” 
“Not now,” said Lupin firmly. “You've had enough for one night. Here —” 
He handed Harry a large bar of Honeydukes’ best chocolate. 
“Eat the lot, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood. Same time next week?” 
“Okay,” said Harry. He took a bite of the chocolate and watched Lupin extinguishing the lamps that had rekindled with the disappearance of the Dementor. A thought had just occurred to him. 
“Professor Lupin?” he said. “If you knew my dad, you must've known Sirius Black as well.” 
Lupin turned very quickly. 
“What gives you that idea?” he said sharply. 
“Nothing — I mean, I just knew they were friends at Hogwarts too…” 
Lupin's face relaxed. 
“Yes, I knew him,” he said shortly. “Or I thought I did. You'd better be off, Harry, it's getting late.” 
Harry left the classroom, walking along the corridor and around a corner, then took a detour behind a suit of armor and sank down on its plinth to finish his chocolate, wishing he hadn't mentioned Black, as Lupin was obviously not keen on the subject. Then Harry's thoughts wandered back to his mother and father … 
He felt drained and strangely empty, even though he was so full of chocolate. Terrible though it was to hear his parents’ last moments replayed inside his head, these were the only times Harry had heard their voices since he was a very small child. But he'd never be able to produce a proper Patronus if he half wanted to hear his parents again … 
“They're dead,” he told himself sternly. “They're dead and listening to echoes of them won't bring them back. You'd better get a grip on yourself if you want that Quidditch Cup.” 
He stood up, crammed the last bit of chocolate into his mouth, and headed back to Gryffindor Tower. 
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　* 
Ravenclaw played Slytherin a week after the start of term. Slytherin won, though narrowly. According to Wood, this was good news for Gryffindor, who would take second place if they beat Ravenclaw too. He therefore increased the number of team practices to five a week. This meant that with Lupin's anti-Dementor classes, which in themselves were more draining than six Quidditch practices, Harry had just one night a week to do all his homework. Even so, he was not showing the strain nearly as much as Hermione, whose immense workload finally seemed to be getting to her. Every night, without fail, Hermione was to be seen in a corner of the common room, several tables spread with books, Arithmancy charts, rune dictionaries, diagrams of Muggles lifting heavy objects, and file upon file of extensive notes; she barely spoke to anybody and snapped when she was interrupted. 
“How's she doing it?” Ron muttered to Harry one evening as Harry sat finishing a nasty essay on Undetectable Poisons for Snape. Harry looked up. Hermione was barely visible behind a tottering pile of books. 
“Doing what?” 
“Getting to all her classes!” Ron said. “I heard her talking to Professor Vector, that Arithmancy witch, this morning. They were going on about yesterday's lesson, but Hermione can't've been there, because she was with us in Care of Magical Creatures! And Ernie McMillan told me she's never missed a Muggle Studies class, but half of them are at the same time as Divination, and she's never missed one of them either!” 
Harry didn't have time to fathom the mystery of Hermione's impossible schedule at the moment; he really needed to get on with Snape's essay. Two seconds later, however, he was interrupted again, this time by Wood. 
“Bad news, Harry. I've just been to see Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt. She — er — got a bit shirty with me. Told me I'd got my priorities wrong. Seemed to think I cared more about winning the Cup than I do about you staying alive. Just because I told her I didn't care if it threw you off, as long as you caught the Snitch first.” Wood shook his head in disbelief. “Honestly, the way she was yelling at me…you'd think I'd said something terrible. Then I asked her how much longer she was going to keep it…” He screwed up his face and imitated Professor McGonagall's severe voice. “As long as necessary, Wood”…I reckon it's time you ordered a new broom, Harry. There's an order form at the back of Which Broomstick…you could get a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, like Malfoy's got.” 
“I'm not buying anything Malfoy thinks is good,” said Harry flatly. 
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　* 
January faded imperceptibly into February, with no change in the bitterly cold weather. The match against Ravenclaw was drawing nearer and nearer, but Harry still hadn't ordered a new broom. He was now asking Professor McGonagall for news of the Firebolt after every Transfiguration lesson, Ron standing hopefully at his shoulder, Hermione rushing past with her face averted. 
“No, Potter, you can't have it back yet,” Professor McGonagall told him the twelfth time this happened, before he'd even opened his mouth. “We've checked for most of the usual curses, but Professor Flitwick believes the broom might be carrying a Hurling Hex. I shall tell you once we've finished checking it. Now, please stop badgering me.” 
To make matters even worse, Harry's anti-Dementor lessons were not going nearly as well as he had hoped. Several sessions on, he was able to produce an indistinct, silvery shadow every time the Boggart-Dementor approached him, but his Patronus was too feeble to drive the Dementor away. All it did was hover, like a semitransparent cloud, draining Harry of energy as he fought to keep it there. Harry felt angry with himself, guilty about his secret desire to hear his parents’ voices again. 
“You're expecting too much of yourself,” said Professor Lupin, sternly in their fourth week of practice. “For a thirteen-year-old wizard, even an indistinct Patronus is a huge achievement. You aren't passing out anymore, are you?” 
“I thought a Patronus would — charge the Dementors down or something,” said Harry dispiritedly. “Make them disappear —” 
“The true Patronus does do that,” said Lupin. “But you've achieved a great deal in a very short space of time. If the Dementors put in an appearance at your next Quidditch match, You will be able to keep them at bay long enough to get back to the ground.” 
“You said it's harder if there are loads of them,” said Harry. 
“I have complete confidence in you,” said Lupin, smiling. “Here — you've earned a drink. Something from the Three Broomsticks. You won't have tried it before —” 
He pulled two bottles out of his briefcase. 
“Butterbeer!” said Harry, without thinking. “Yeah, I like that stuff!” 
Lupin raised an eyebrow. 
“Oh — Ron and Hermione brought me some back from Hogsmeade,” Harry lied quickly. 
“I see,” said Lupin, though he still looked slightly suspicious. “Well — let's drink to a Gryffindor victory against Ravenclaw! Not that I'm supposed to take sides, as a teacher…” he added hastily. 
They drank the butterbeer in silence, until Harry voiced something he'd been wondering for a while. 
“What's under a Dementor's hood?” 
Professor Lupin lowered his bottle thoughtfully. 
“Hmmm … well, the only people who really know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the Dementor lowers its hood only to use its last and worst weapon.” 
“What's that?” 
“They call it the Dementor's Kiss,” said Lupin, with a slightly twisted smile. “It's what Dementors do to those they wish to destroy utterly. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there, because they clamp their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and — and suck out his soul.” 
Harry accidentally spat out a bit of butterbeer. 
“What — they kill —?” 
“Oh no,” said Lupin. “Much worse than that. You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no…anything. There's no chance at all of recovery. You'll just exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever…lost.” 
Lupin drank a little more butterbeer, then said, “It's the fate that awaits Sirius Black. It was in the Daily Prophet this morning. The Ministry have given the Dementors permission to perform it if they find him.” 
Harry sat stunned for a moment at the idea of someone having their soul sucked out through their mouth. But then he thought of Black. 
“He deserves it,” he said suddenly. 
“You think so?” said Lupin lightly. “Do you really think anyone deserves that?” 
“Yes,” said Harry defiantly. “For…for some things…” 
He would have liked to have told Lupin about the conversation he'd overheard about Black in the Three Broomsticks, about Black betraying his mother and father, but it would have involved revealing that he'd gone to Hogsmeade without permission, and he knew Lupin wouldn't be very impressed by that. So he finished his butterbeer, thanked Lupin, and left the History of Magic classroom. 
Harry half wished that he hadn't asked what was under a Dementor's hood, the answer had been so horrible, and he was so lost in unpleasant thoughts of what it would feel like to have your soul sucked out of you that he walked headlong into Professor McGonagall halfway up the stairs. 
“Do watch where you're going, Potter!” 
“Sorry, Professor —” 
“I've just been looking for you in the Gryffindor common room, Well, here it is, we've done everything we could think of, and there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with it at all — you've got a very good friend somewhere, Potter…” 
Harry's jaw dropped. She was holding out his Firebolt, and it looked as magnificent as ever. 
“I can have it back?” Harry said weakly. “Seriously?” 
“Seriously,” said Professor McGonagall, and she was actually smiling. “I daresay you'll need to get the feel of it before Saturday's match, won't you? And Potter — do try and win, won't you? Or we'll be out of the running for the eighth year in a row, as Professor Snape was kind enough to remind me only last night…” 
Speechless, Harry carried the Firebolt back upstairs toward Gryffindor Tower. As he turned a corner, he saw Ron dashing toward him, grinning from ear to ear. 
“She gave it to you? Excellent! Listen, can I still have a go on it? Tomorrow?” 
“Yeah…anything…” said Harry, his heart lighter than it had been in a month. “You know what — we should make up with Hermione…She was only trying to help…” 
“Yeah, all right,” said Ron. “She's in the common room now working — for a change.” 
They turned into the corridor to Gryffindor Tower and saw Neville Longbottom, pleading with Sir Cadogan, who seemed to be refusing him entrance. 
“I wrote them down!” Neville was saying tearfully. “But I must've dropped them somewhere!” 
“A likely tale!” roared Sir Cadogan. Then, spotting Harry and Ron: “Good even, my fine young yeomen! Come clap this loon in irons. He is trying to force entry to the chambers within!” 
“Oh, shut up,” said Ron as he and Harry drew level with Neville. 
“I've lost the passwords!” Neville told them miserably. “I made him tell me what passwords he was going to use this week, because he keeps changing them, and now I don't know what I've done with them!” 
“Oddsbodkins,” said Harry to Sir Cadogan, who looked extremely disappointed and reluctantly swung forward to let them into the common room. There was a sudden, excited murmur as every head turned and the next moment, Harry was surrounded by people exclaiming over his Firebolt. 
“Where'd you get it, Harry?” 
“Will you let me have a go?” 
“Have you ridden it yet, Harry?” 
“Ravenclaw'll have no chance, they're all on Cleansweep Sevens!” 
“Can I just hold it, Harry?” 
After ten minutes or so, during which the Firebolt was Passed around and admired from every angle, the crowd dispersed and Harry and Ron had a clear view of Hermione, the only person who hadn't rushed over to them, bent over her work and carefully avoiding their eyes. Harry and Ron approached her table and at last, she looked up. 
“I got it back,” said Harry, grinning at her and holding up the Firebolt. 
“See, Hermione? There wasn't anything wrong with it!” said Ron. 
“Well — there might have been!” said Hermione. “I mean, at least you know now that it's safe!” 
“Yeah, I suppose so,” said Harry. “I'd better put it upstairs.” 
“I'll take it!” said Ron eagerly. “I've got to give Scabbers his rat tonic.” 
He took the Firebolt and, holding it as if it were made of glass, carried it away up the boys’ staircase. 
“Can I sit down, then?” Harry asked Hermione. 
“I suppose so,” said Hermione, moving a great stack of parchment off a chair. 
Harry looked around at the cluttered table, at the long Arithmancy essay on which the ink was still glistening, at the even longer Muggle Studies essay (‘Explain Why Muggles Need Electricity') and at the rune translation Hermione was now poring over. 
“How are you getting through all this stuff?” Harry asked her. 
“Oh, well — you know — working hard,” said Hermione. Close-up, Harry saw that she looked almost as tired as Lupin. 
“Why don't you just drop a couple of subjects?” Harry asked, watching her lifting books as she searched for her rune dictionary. 
“I couldn't do that!” said Hermione, looking scandalized. 
“Arithmancy looks terrible,” said Harry, picking up a very complicated-looking number chart. 
“Oh no, it's wonderful!” said Hermione earnestly. “It's my favorite subject! It's —” 
But exactly what was wonderful about Arithmancy, Harry never found out. At that precise moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boys’ staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the entrance. Then came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder — and then Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bedsheet. 
“LOOK!” he bellowed, striding over to Hermione's table. “LOOK!” he yelled, shaking the sheets in her face. 
“Ron, what —?” 
“SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!” 
Hermione was leaning away from Ron, looking utterly bewildered. Harry looked down at the sheet Ron was holding. There was something red on it. Something that looked horribly like — 
“BLOOD!” Ron yelled into the stunned silence. “HE'S GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?” 
“N — no,” said Hermione in a trembling voice. 
Ron threw something down onto Hermione's rune translation. Hermione and Harry leaned forward. Lying on top of the weird, spiky shapes were several long, ginger cat hairs. 
哈利知道荷米恩的出发点是好的，但这并不能使对她的怒气有丝毫的减轻，他曾经是世界上最美丽扫帚的拥有者，尽管只是短短几个小时而已，但现在，因为她多事，他连能否可以再见到它也没把握，他现在确信事情是与那个霹雳无关的。 
　　哈利对罗恩也简直是强烈的愤怒，对他来说，扯下一个新牌子的霹雳，与刑事破坏是没什么两样的。仍然确信自己是追求完美的荷米恩，开始避免进入公共休息室。哈利和罗恩开始惊讶，因为她已经把图书馆当成藏身之所。他们也不试图劝她回去，毕竟，他们都为新年小休后又可回校而高兴。格林芬顿楼又回复以前的热闹。 
　　在学期开始之前，伍德在晚上找到了哈利。 
　　“圣诞过得愉快吗？”他说，不等对方回答，他便坐下来，压低声音说：“我在圣诞后已经仔细考虑过了，你也知道，经过上一次的比赛，如果得蒙特出席下一场比赛，也许，我不能把你……” 
　　他停了下来，有点尴尬。 
　　“我会努力的，‘哈利马上接下去，”露平教授说，他会训练我，训练将由这星期开始。教授说他圣诞后会有时间。“”嗯。“伍德应了一声，他的解释很清楚。”这样吧，我真的不想失去你这个搜索者。啊，对了，你订了新的扫帚了没有？“ 
　　“没有。”哈利说。 
　　“什么？你得抓紧行动，你也知道啦，你是不能骑着‘流星’与卫文卡罗对抗的！” 
　　“我圣诞节收到了一把霹雳。”哈利说。 
　　“霹雳？不会吧，真是一个霹雳吗？” 
　　“先别激动，”哈利忧郁地说：“我不再拥有它了，它已被充公了。” 
　　于是他就详详细细地把那霹雳是怎样困厄运而正接受检查。 
　　“霹雳？它怎么成了不祥物呢？” 
　　“西里斯。巴拉克，”哈利厌倦地说，“麦康娜教授认为是西里斯。 
　　巴拉克故意送给我的。“”但他仍在潜逃，他怎么可能到快迪斯补收站买到扫帚呢？“伍德说。 
　　“我知道。”哈利说，“但麦康娜教授仍想把它拆卸下来。” 
　　伍德胜脸色变苍白了。 
　　“我去跟她说，哈利。”他承诺道，“我会让她明白个中的原因，让她看看霹雳，一个真正的霹雳，在我们队里，她与我们一样想格林芬顿赢。我会让她体会一下的。” 
　　第二天，课程又开始了。大家都想做的最后一件事便是花上两个小时，到操场上享受一下一月的早晨。哈格力准备了黄火和很多蝾螈供玩乐。他们到处检干柴和枯叶，让火继续燃烧，蜥蜴在烈焰中高兴地跳上跳下，把烧得赤热的木头弄坏了。 
　　新学期的第一堂课是如此的有趣。 
　　特雷络尼教授正在给他们上手相术这门课，她已没时间告诉哈利他的生命线是她所见最短的一条。 
　　哈利最喜欢的就是露平的黑巫术防御课，在跟露平商量之后，他想开始他的反得蒙特课，而且越早越好。 
　　“对，”露平说。哈利在课后提醒了他的承诺。“依我所见，周四晚上8点钟你看怎么样？上魔法历史的教室一定够大。我必须仔细考虑我们该怎么做……俄们不能把一个真实的得蒙特搬到课堂上来演示……” 
　　“他看来脸色很不好，对吧？”罗恩说。这时候他们正走在过道上，准备去吃晚饭。“你估计他有什么事呢？” 
　　一声响亮、不耐烦的“咳”从后面传来，是荷米恩，她一直坐在一套盔甲旁边，正在重新合上她那个装满了书的袋子。 
　　“你为什么嘘我们？”罗恩暴躁地说。 
　　“没什么。”荷米恩用高傲的声音回答道，说着便把那包挂在肩上。 
　　“你是在嘘我们，”罗恩说，“我刚才说露平怎么了，而你——” 
　　“好，那不是很明显吗？”荷米恩说着，表情很令人恼怒。 
　　“如果你不想告诉我们，那就不要说了。”罗恩厉声责骂道。 
　　“好！”荷米恩傲慢地应着，大踏步走了。 
　　“她一点也不知道，”罗恩愤恨地说，“她只是想让我们跟上谈话罢了。” 
　　星期四晚8点，哈利从格林芬顿楼出来赶去上露平的课，当他到的时候，教室里黑洞乎乎，空荡荡的。他开了灯在教室里等了五分钟，露平教授来了，他带来一个大箱子，让宾西教授托在肩上。 
　　“那是什么？”哈利说。 
　　“另一个布格特，”他说着便御下披风，“自星期二以来，我就一直在爬那座城堡，非常幸运，我在费驰先生的文档柜里发现了这个东西，这是我们接近得蒙特的捷径，布格特会变成一个得蒙特，当他见你的时候，这样我们就可在它身上演练了。但我不能把他锁在办公室里，尤其是我们不用到他的时候。哈利，你要小心对付它。” 
　　“好的，哈利说。他试图让他们感觉不到他的担心，而且还为露平找到这样一个得蒙特替代品而高兴。 
　　“那……”露平教授拿出自己的魔杖，同时也示意哈利也这样做。 
　　“我将教你的是一些很高深的魔法咒语，哈利，这是高于普通男巫水平的，它的名字叫”吧卓泥斯‘咒语。“”它有什么作用呢？“哈利紧张地问道。 
　　“当它正确地发生作用时，它将召唤出吧卓泥斯，一种反得蒙特，一个在你和得蒙特之间的像影子一样的守护者。” 
　　哈利突然闪过一个念头：他蹲伏在一个梦魇形象后手拿着一根大木棒。露平教授继续说下去：“吧卓泥斯是一种积极的力量，一种得蒙特赖以为生的食物，所有的、希望、愉悦、生存的欲望，却不能有失望，但人类却是有的。所以得蒙特伤害不了它。我必须提醒你的是，咒语对你来说也许太高深了，很多很有资格的男巫也应付不来。” 
　　“那么这种吧单泥斯咒语看起来像什么呢？”哈利好奇地问。 
　　“对于男巫高手来说每一段都是独立的。” 
　　“那你怎么能召唤它呢？” 
　　“用一段咒文，但你必须集中精神，用一个单独的、愉悦的记忆系统。” 
　　哈利匆忙寻找欢乐的记忆，当然，什么也没在他身上发生。最后，在他想到第一次坐上扫帚时平静了下来。 
　　“对。”他说着，努力去唤起在他肚子里的极美好、飞舞着的感觉。 
　　“咒文就是这些——”露平清了清嗓子，“伊斯彼特毕朗。” 
　　哈利一边迅速地强迫他的思绪回到第一次坐扫帚的记忆，一边念“伊斯彼特毕朗——不，应是吧卓泥斯——对不起，伊斯彼特毕朗，伊斯彼特毕朗——” 
　　一阵嘶嘶声从他的棍端发出，看起来像是银色的气体。 
　　“你看见了吗？”哈利高兴地说，“有反应啦！” 
　　“很好，”露平微笑着说，“现在，准备在得蒙特上试一试，怎么样？” 
　　“好，”他紧紧地握住魔法棒，来到空荡荡的教室中央。他努力地使思绪飞翔，但有别的东西在侵扰……他仿佛听见妈妈的声音，但他不应该想这些，否则又会听见妈妈的声音，是他并不想这样，还是他本来就想呢？ 
　　露手抓住包装箱的盖子用力地拉。 
　　一个得蒙特从箱子里慢慢升起，它那戴着头巾的脸倾向哈利，一只闪闪发光，带着疙瘩的手紧握披风。教室四周的灯闪烁了几下，灭了。那个得蒙特从箱子里走出来，并开始向哈利袭击过来。带着深深地，嘎嘎的呼吸声，一阵刺骨的冷气向他袭来。 
　　“伊斯彼特毕朗！”哈利大叫道，“伊斯彼特毕朗！伊斯彼特毕朗……” 
　　但这对得蒙特无济于事。哈利看到厚厚的白雾发出来，她妈妈的声音却越发响亮，在脑际回响——“不要！不要！求你了，我可为你做任何事——” 
　　“站一边去，去，小女孩！” 
　　“哈利！” 
　　哈利被猛扯回现实，平躺在地板上，教室里的灯又亮了，他也不必问发生了什么事。 
　　“对不起，”他喃喃地说，他坐了起来，并感到冷汗从眼镜后滑落。 
　　“你没事吧？”露平关切地问。 
　　“没事！”哈刮扶着一张桌子站了起来。 
　　“来——”露手递给他一块巧克力青蛙糖。“在我们再试之前把它吃了，我一开始没想到让你做第一次，但事实上，我为你的尝试感到震惊。” 
　　“好像越来越不对劲了，”哈利喃喃地说着，一口把青蛙头咬掉，“那时候，我听见她声音更大了，还有他——福尔得摩特。” 
　　露平看起来比平常更苍白了些。 
　　“哈利，如果你不想继续，我会理解的。” 
　　“我会坚持下去的！”哈利很严肃地说，把剩下的巧克力都塞进嘴里，他说，“如果我达不到了那境界，在我们与卫文卡罗的比赛中，得蒙特会变成什么呢？我不能再忍受挫折了。如果我们输了，就会与快迪斯杯无缘！” 
　　“好吧，你可以另找一个记忆，一个欢快的记忆，仍然专注当中，一个好像轻微的……” 
　　哈利认真地想，决定选格林芬顿赢了豪斯锦标赛时他喜悦的心情。他紧握摩杖，仍站在教室中间。 
　　“准备好了吗？”露平说，动手去掀动箱盖。 
　　“准备好了。”哈利很努力地集中在格林芬顿胜出的欢乐中，而且消尽刚才的阴影。 
　　“开始！”露平喊道，掀开盖子。屋子里一下子变得冷冰冰的，黑乎乎的，那得蒙特仍旧向哈利滑动着袭去、掀动着嘎嘎的呼吸声，一个长满疙瘩的手伸向荷米思。 
　　“伊斯彼特毕朗！”哈利喊道，“伊斯彼特毕朗！” 
　　白雾模糊了他的感觉，一个大大的，模糊不清的形象在他周围移动，这时候，他听见了一个新的声音，是个男的，喊着，惊恐万状。 
　　“莉莉，带哈利走，带着他，去！跑！我会挡住他的！” 
　　一个人的声音从一个房间里断断续续地传出——突然，门炸开了——紧接着是一个高而锐利的笑声。 
　　“哈利，哈利，你醒醒……” 
　　露平在哈利脸上用力地摇了几下，这次，哈利过了一分钟的时间才明白过来为什么自己躺在这胜地板上。 
　　“我听见我爸爸的声音！”他喃喃道。“这是我第一次听到他的声音，他试图一个人应付福尔得摩特，好留些时间给妈妈逃脱……” 
　　哈利突然发觉有泪水渗在脸上的汗水里，他尽可能弯下腰，在长袍上擦掉泪，还假装在系鞋带以免被露平看见。 
　　“你听见杰姆斯说话吗？”露平以奇怪的声音问道。 
　　“听到了，”擦着脸，哈利抬头应道，“你认识我爸爸吗？” 
　　“我……我……是的。”露平说，“事实上，在霍格瓦彻时我们曾是朋友。听着，哈利，今年晚上我们也许该离开这里，这些咒语实在是太难了，我不应该让你尝试。” 
　　“不！”他一把坐起来，“我想再来一遍！我想的那些还不够欢快，这是，这是问题所在。” 
　　他绞尽脑汁，终于找到一个真正开心的记记：他有一天成为了一个优秀，强有力的男巫。 
　　在那一刻，他意识到自己是个男巫，并准备离开杜斯利家去霍格瓦彻！如果这不算是个开心的记忆，那怎样才算呢？正当他想着，想着他将离开普里怀特街，他不知不觉走到了箱子面前。 
　　“准备好了吗？”露平知道自己在做一件违背初衷的事，“集中精神，好——开始！” 
　　他第三次把盖子掀开，得蒙特随即升起，屋里立即又黑又冷。 
　　“伊斯彼特毕朗！伊斯彼特毕朗！”哈利念念有词。 
　　在哈利脑海中的尖叫声又再响起。但这次，声音好像是从一个收音效果很好的收音机里发出的，只是稍微大了一点，又放轻了。他仍看得见得蒙特，声音停了一下，一个庞大的银白色的影子突然从他的棍子末端蹦出，在哈利和得蒙特之间盘旋。 
　　这时，虽然哈利的腿软得很，但他还是站着，已经记不起站了多长时间。 
　　“雷得克路斯！”露平吼道，跟来上前。 
　　一个响亮的爆裂声过后，哈利四周的吧卓泥斯同那个得蒙特突然消失了。他跃在椅子上，筋疲力尽得像刚跑完一千米，腿也在抖着。在墙角处，他看见露平教授正在费劲地把布格特塞回箱子里，他的魔法律又变回了银白色。 
　　“太好了！”露平大踏步走到哈利坐的地方，“太好了！哈利！这真是个好开始！” 
　　“我们还来一次吗？一次？” 
　　“不，不是现在。”露平很坚定地说，“你今晚已经够累的了。”他递给哈利一条大大的甜公爵牌巧克力。 
　　“多吃点儿，否则波姆弗雷太太要对我动粗的了，下星期还是这个时间吗？” 
　　“没问题。”哈利咬了一口巧克力，他看着露平熄灭了刚才闪烁的灯。一个念头在他脑子里一闪而过。 
　　“露平教授，”荷米恩说，“你认识我爸，那你也一定认识西里斯。 
　　巴拉克。“露平马上转过身。 
　　“谁教你这么想的？”他提高声音说。 
　　“没有——我只是想，在霍格瓦彻，他们也是朋友。” 
　　露平的脸宽容了一点。 
　　“对，我认识他，”他短促有力地回答，“我想是的，你最好先回去吧，不早了。” 
　　哈利离开教室，沿着过道走，拐了一个弯，绕过一套盔甲，在底架上坐下，吃完他的巧克力，多么期望自己不曾提到巴拉克，露平显然不喜欢这话题。想着想着，哈利的思绪又溜回到父母身上。 
　　他感到口渴并有一种奇怪的空虚感，即使他已经吃饱了巧克力。 
　　脑海里总不断重复着父母恐怖的叫喊声。自很小很小的时候，哈利就没听见过父母的声音了。然而，他又不能创造一个合适的咒语来使他能听见父母的声音。 
　　“他们已经死了，”他坚决地告诉自己，“他们的确死了，听那回音也不能使他们复活的，如果想赢得快迪斯杯，你还得鞭策自己。” 
　　他站起来，贪婪地嚼着最后一口巧克力，向格林芬顿楼走去。 
　　开学后，卫文卡罗和史林德林比赛了一个星期。虽然险象横生，史林德林还是赢了，对于伍德来说，这倒是个好消息，因为他们如果赢了卫文卡罗，格林芬顿就可升上第二位了。但是，他还是把队员训练的时间增加至每周5次。这样，除了露平教授不少于1次的反得蒙特演练课，哈利就实际上一周只有一个晚上的时间做他的功课了。 
　　虽然如此，他从来没表现出像荷米思那样的紧张状态。巨大的工作量最后似乎总要向她压过来，每天晚上，几乎无一例外荷米恩都会在公共休息室的角落里，书散放在几张桌子上，算术图表，卢恩文（古代北欧民族使用的文字）字典，元素图表以及一堆堆的笔记。她很少跟别人交谈，要是有谁打扰她，她便会大喊大叫。 
　　“她做得怎样了？”罗恩在一天晚上喃喃地跟哈利说，哈利正在忙着完成一篇长论文，是关一种不易察觉的毒药滥用问题的。哈利抬头，看见荷米恩正坐在一堆摇摇欲坠的书堆后，几乎让人看不见她。 
　　“正在做什么呢？” 
　　“为她的课程做准备！”罗恩说，“今天我听见她跟维克特教授，也就是那个女巫在交谈，她们正在谈昨天的课，但荷米恩应该不在现场啊，她一直和我们呆在‘魔法生物的照顾’课堂里，而且她告诉过我，荷米恩是从来不错过一堂马格人研究课的，虽然这些课大半是在解释定义的，但她也没缺过一堂！” 
　　哈利没时间去揣摩荷米恩的这种奇异时间表的秘密，他迫切需要完成那篇论文。 
　　两秒后，他还是被打断了思路，这一次是伍德。 
　　“不好了，哈利，我刚才为了霹雳这一事去看望麦康娜教授，她，嗯，她对我生了点气。告诉我说我的出发点错了，似乎我看那奖杯看得比你的生命还重要。” 
　　他边说边难以置信地摇着头。“老实说，她那样子对我大喊大叫……她一定想我是说了些什么恐怖的东西，于是我问她还要持续多长时间！”他扭歪脸，模仿麦康娜教授严肃的口吻，“除非是必要，伍德……我估计这是你订一把新扫帚的时候了，我这儿有一张订单表，你可以要‘灵光2001’，像马尔夫的一样。” 
　　“我不会买马尔夫认为是好的东西的。”哈利漠然看。 
　　一月在不知不觉中逝去，二月来了。冷冷的天气一点也没变。 
　　与卫文卡罗的比赛越来越迫近了，但哈利还没订下一个新扫帚。而最近在每堂变形课后，他都向麦康娜教授打听关于霹雳的事情。罗恩满怀希望地与哈利并肩站着，而荷米恩总是躲着脸在他们身边擦过。 
　　“不，波特，你不能再拥有它了。”教授在他开口之前说第十二遍：“我们把一般的咒语都查过了，费立维克教授相信那扫帚一定是带着一个速度极快的东西，我告诉你，我们已经查过了，请你不要再缠着我。” 
　　令事情更糟的是，哈利的反得蒙特课并不像他想象的那样。他每次都能在那个布格特。得蒙特走向他时产生出一个模糊的、银白色的影子，但咒语的魔力却驱走不了那个得蒙特。那个东西总是像个不透明的云雾在空中盘旋，在与之挣斗中，哈利的能量在不断消耗。 
　　哈利开始恨自己，为自己想再听到父母声音的这种秘密的欲望而感到内疚。 
　　“你对自己期望太高了。”露平教授在第四个星期的练习中断言道。“对于一个13岁的男巫来说，一个模糊的吧卓泥斯已是一个巨大的成就，你不会再昏倒了，对吧？” 
　　“我想一个吧卓泥斯咒语会使得蒙特变弱或消失的。”哈利有点沮丧。 
　　“这是一个真正的吧卓泥斯能做到的，但我们在短时间内已经取得了很不错的成就。如果下一场比赛有得蒙特的出现，你就能把他们控制得走投无路，然后回到地面上来。” 
　　“你不是说如果他们很多，这将会使难度增大吗？” 
　　“我对你完全有信心，”露平微笑着说，“来，喝点酒，这是从‘三扫帚’那里弄来的，你一定没尝过。” 
　　他从公事包里掏出两瓶酒。 
　　“干杯！”哈利不加思索地说，“三扫帚酒吧的酒。” 
　　露平扬起眉毛。 
　　“啊，罗恩和荷米恩从霍格马得给我带来点东西。”哈利很快地撒了谎。“我知道，”露平说着他脸上有一丝猜疑的神色，“让我们为战胜卫文卡罗而干杯！作为一个老师，我并不想袖手旁观！”他稍微补充了一下。 
　　他们静静地喝着牛油啤酒，直到哈利说有些事他得考虑一下。 
　　“在得蒙特风帽下的是什么东西？” 
　　教授放下酒瓶陷入了沉思。 
　　“嗯，知道的人没理由会告诉我们，得蒙特只在用到他那最弱的武器时才会放低它的风帽。” 
　　“那是件什么武器？” 
　　“他们叫这‘得蒙特’的吻，”露平教授脸上带着个滑稽的微笑，“得蒙特会对那些企图毁灭丑恶的人用这一武器。我想那一定会有个像口一样的东西在那下面，因为当它用尖牙紧咬对方（遇难者）的嘴时，它就会把人的灵魂吸过去。” 
　　哈利不小心喷了些酒出来。 
　　“什么？他们杀——？” 
　　“不，还有比这更糟的呢。你可以没有灵魂地活在世上，因为你的脑和心还在运作，但你已没有自己的感觉了，没有记忆，没有…… 
　　什么也没了，而且没有机会康复，你只是活着，只剩一个空壳，而你的灵魂将永远地逝去。“露平又喝了一口酒，继续说：“这是将降临到西里斯。巴拉克身上的命运。这是《先知日报》上说的，内阁已经答应了得蒙特，要是找到他，便一定交给得蒙特。“ 
　　哈利坐在那里目瞪口呆地想著有人的灵魂被吸出。他想到了巴拉克。 
　　“他应得的。”他突然说道。 
　　“你这样认为？你真认为有人是应得的吗？”露平轻轻地问道。 
　　“对，因为某些事情。”哈利挑战地说。 
　　他很想告诉露平关于他在“三扫帚”无意中听见关于巴拉克的事，以及巴拉克背叛他的爸爸妈妈。但这会牵涉到他未经批准出了霍格马得的事。而且他知道露乎对那些事不大感兴趣，所以他喝完了酒，谢过露平，走出了魔法历史的教室。 
　　哈利开始为问了得蒙特风帽下的事情而后悔了，因为答案实在太可怕了。他的思绪跃进失去灵魂的感觉中沉思时，他已上了到麦康娜佳处的一半的楼梯。在拐弯处，他碰到了麦康娜教授，她手里拿着霹雳扫帚。 
　　“波特，你走路小心点！” 
　　“对不起，教授。” 
　　“我刚才一直在格林芬顿的公共休息室里找你，好，现在考虑到的事情都已完成了，好像没什么不对劲的，扫帚就还给你。” 
　　哈利低下头，它那看起来好像永远那么华贵。 
　　“我可以拿回它吗？”哈利问得很轻，“是真的吗？” 
　　“是真的。”麦康娜微笑着说，“我敢断言你需要在周六的比赛前找回它，对吗？波特，尽力试一试，凯旋而归好吗？否则，我们就得在第8年的比赛中退出，史纳皮教授在昨晚就友善地提醒过我了。” 
　　无言以对，哈利带着霹雳，告别麦康娜，他拐了个弯，看见罗恩正向他跑来，裂着嘴在笑。 
　　“她给你了，太好了，听着，我们还练吗？明天好不好？” 
　　“好，什么都好，”他的心比一个月前轻松了许多，“你知道什么——我们应和荷米恩组合起来，她总是试图在帮助……” 
　　“好，她现在在公共休息室里，为了改变而努力。” 
　　他们转上格林芬顿的楼道上看见了尼维尔，他正与卡得格先生在争辩什么，卡得格先生似乎不让他进去。 
　　“我把他们写下来了，”尼维尔声泪俱下地说，“但我可能在哪里丢失了。” 
　　“一个很有可能的故事！”卡得格吼道，然后，指了指哈利和罗恩说，“晚安，我的小伙子！来嘲笑一下这无赖吧，他竟想撞入这寝室！” 
　　“别吵了。”罗恩说。 
　　“我丢了暗号，”他可悲地说，“我让他告诉我有哪种暗号这期用得着，因为他总是换来换去的，我也无所适从了！” 
　　卡得格先生很沮丧，但还是不肯让开让他们进去，这时候，一个突如其来的，激动的轻柔而持续的声音传来，当大家转过去的，哈利已被人围住，为他的霹雳惊叫起来。 
　　“你从哪里得到的？哈利？” 
　　“可以让我试一试吗？” 
　　“你试过坐上去吗？” 
　　“史林德林没机会的了，他们都在‘清一色’的‘灵光2001’上。” 
　　“我只想握一握它，可以吗？哈利？” 
　　十分钟左右，霹雳已在大家的赞赏中传阅遍了。人群散去，哈利和罗恩清楚地看到荷米恩。她埋头工作，尽量小心地避开他们的目光。哈利和罗恩走近她的桌子，最后，她抬起头来。 
　　“我要回了它！”哈利手里拿着霹雳，看着她。 
　　“你看，没丝毫损伤！”罗恩说。 
　　“对，它本来就是这样！”荷米恩说，“至少你们现在知道它是安全的。” 
　　“嗯，我也这么想，我还是把它放在楼上好。”哈利说。 
　　“我来！”罗恩急着说，“我正要把灵光2000交给伯希。” 
　　他接过霹雳，担心会跌破，小心翼翼地沿着男生楼梯上去了。 
　　“我可以坐下吗？”哈利问。 
　　“请坐。”荷米恩说着把一叠半皮纸文稿从椅子里挪开。 
　　哈利看了看凌乱的桌子，看着那油墨未干的论文和那更长的关于马格人研究的论文（解释为何马格需要电力）。还有那篇卢恩文译过来的荷米恩正在钻研的论文。 
　　“那么多要做，你是怎么熬过来的？”哈利问她。 
　　“哦，这嘛——靠努力。”近一点看，哈利似乎看见她与露平教授一样疲倦。 
　　“你怎么不放弃一些课题呢？‘始利看着她找卢恩文字典时翻过的一本又一本的书。 
　　“我不能！”她愤慨地看着他说。 
　　“数字占卜课看起来很可怕！”哈利边说着边捡起一张看起来很复杂的数字图表。 
　　“不，这是很棒的！”荷米恩诚恳地说，“这是我最引为自豪的作品” 
　　但实际上哈利从来不曾觉得这门课有什么奇妙之处。就在这时候，在男生梯间回响起了一个令人窒息的叫喊。这屋子人全静了下来，瞠目结舌。一阵急促的脚步声传来，越来越近了，罗恩出现了，身后还拉着一条床单。 
　　“看！”他吼道，跨过荷米恩的桌子，叫道：“看哪！”说着一边抖动着床单。 
　　“罗恩，是什么？” 
　　“斯卡伯斯，看，是斯卡伯斯！” 
　　荷米恩向后退了几步，困惑地看着罗思，哈利低头看床单，只见有点红色染在上面，有点像那可怖的——“血！”罗恩在静默中喊开了。 
　　“他死了！你们知道在地板上有什么吗？” 
　　“不，不知道。”哈利擅抖着声音。 
　　罗恩把一件东西抛在荷米恩的译稿上，他们一起伸出头来看，简直不可思议，是钉形的几根长长的姜黄色的猫毛。 
Chapter 13 Gryffindor Versus Ravenclaw
It looked like the end of Ron and Hermione's friendship. Each was so angry with the other that Harry couldn't see how they'd ever make up. 
Ron was enraged that Hermione had never taken Crookshanks's attempts to eat Scabbers seriously, hadn't bothered to keep a close enough watch on him, and was still trying to pretend that Crookshanks was innocent by suggesting that Ron look for Scabbers under all the boys’ beds. Hermione, meanwhile, maintained fiercely that Ron had no proof that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, that the ginger hairs might have been there since Christmas, and that Ron had been prejudiced against her cat ever since Crookshanks had landed on Ron's head in the Magical Menagerie. 
Personally, Harry was sure that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, and when he tried to point out to Hermione that the evidence all pointed that way, she lost her temper with Harry too. 
“Okay, side with Ron, I knew you would!” she said shrilly. “First the Firebolt, now Scabbers, everything's my fault, isn't it! Just leave me alone, Harry, I've got a lot of work to do!” 
Ron had taken the loss of his rat very hard indeed. 
“Come on, Ron, you were always saying how boring Scabbers was,” said Fred bracingly. “And he's been off-color for ages, he was wasting away. It was probably better for him to snuff it quickly — one swallow — he probably didn't feel a thing.” 
“Fred!” said Ginny indignantly. 
“All he did was eat and sleep, Ron, you said it yourself,” said George. 
“He bit Goyle for us once!” Ron said miserably. “Remember, Harry?” 
“Yeah, that's true,” said Harry. 
“His finest hour,” said Fred, unable to keep a straight face. “Let the scar on Goyle's finger stand as a lasting tribute to his memory. Oh, come on, Ron, get yourself down to Hogsmeade and buy a new rat, what's the point of moaning?” 
In a last-ditch attempt to cheer Ron up, Harry persuaded him to come along to the Gryffindor team's final practice before the Ravenclaw match, so that he could have a ride on the Firebolt after they'd finished. This did seem to take Ron's mind off Scabbers for a moment (“Great! Can I try and shoot a few goals on it?”) so they set off for the Quidditch field together. 
Madam Hooch, who was still overseeing Gryffindor practices to keep an eye on Harry, was just as impressed with the Firebolt as everyone else had been. She took it in her hands before takeoff and gave them the benefit of her professional opinion. 
“Look at the balance on it! If the Nimbus series has a fault, it's a slight list to the tail end — you often find they develop a drag after a few years. They've updated the handle too, a bit slimmer than the Cleansweeps, reminds me of the old Silver Arrows — a pity they've stopped making them. I learned to fly on one, and a very fine old broom it was too…” 
She continued in this vein for some time, until Wood said, “Er — Madam Hooch? Is it okay if Harry has the Firebolt back? We need to practice…” 
“Oh — right — here you are, then, Potter,” said Madam Hooch. “I'll sit over here with Weasley…” 
She and Ron left the field to sit in the stadium, and the Gryffindor team gathered around Wood for his final instructions for tomorrow's match. 
“Harry, I've just found out who Ravenclaw is playing as Seeker. It's Cho Chang. She's a fourth year, and she's pretty good…I really hoped she wouldn't be fit, she's had some problems with injuries…” Wood scowled his displeasure that Cho Chang had made a full recovery, then said, “On the other hand, she rides a Comet Two Sixty, which is going to look like a joke next to the Firebolt.” He gave Harry's broom a look of fervent admiration, then said, “Okay, everyone, let's go —” 
And at long last, Harry mounted his Firebolt, and kicked off from the ground. 
It was better than he'd ever dreamed. The Firebolt turned with the lightest touch; it seemed to obey his thoughts rather than his grip; it sped across the field at such speed that the stadium turned into a green-and-gray blur; Harry turned it so sharply that Alicia Spinnet screamed, then he went into a perfectly controlled dive, brushing the grassy field with his toes before rising thirty, forty, fifty feet into the air again — 
“Harry, I'm letting the Snitch out!” Wood called. 
Harry turned and raced a Bludger toward the goal posts; he outstripped it easily, saw the Snitch dart out from behind Wood, and within ten seconds had caught it tightly in his hand. 
The team cheered madly. Harry let the Snitch go again, gave it a minute's head start, then tore after it, weaving in and out of the others; he spotted it lurking near Katie Bell's knee, looped her easily, and caught it again. 
It was the best practice ever; the team, inspired by the presence of the Firebolt in their midst, performed their best moves faultlessly, and by the time they hit the ground again, Wood didn't have a single criticism to make, which, as George Weasley pointed out, was a first. 
“I can't see what's going to stop us tomorrow!” said Wood. “Not unless — Harry, you've sorted out your Dementor problem, haven't you?” 
“Yeah,” said Harry, thinking of his feeble Patronus and wishing it were stronger. 
“The Dementors won't turn up again, Oliver. Dumbledore'd go ballistic,” said Fred confidently. 
“Well, let's hope not,” said Wood. “Anyway — good work, everyone. Let's get back to the tower…turn in early…” 
“I'm staying out for a bit; Ron wants a go on the Firebolt,” Harry told Wood, and while the rest of the team headed off to the locker rooms, Harry strode over to Ron, who vaulted the barrier to the stands and came to meet him. Madam Hooch had fallen asleep in her seat. 
“Here you go,” said Harry, handing Ron the Firebolt. 
Ron, an expression of ecstasy on his face, mounted the broom and zoomed off into the gathering darkness while Harry walked around the edge of the field, watching him. Night had fallen before Madam Hooch awoke with a start, told Harry and Ron off for not waking her, and insisted that they go back to the castle. 
Harry shouldered the Firebolt and he and Ron walked out of the shadowy stadium, discussing the Firebolt's superbly smooth action, its phenomenal acceleration, and its pinpoint turning. They were halfway toward the castle when Harry, glancing to his left, saw something that made his heart turn over — a pair of eyes, gleaming out of the darkness. 
Harry stopped dead, his heart banging against his ribs. 
“What's the matter?” said Ron. 
Harry pointed. Ron pulled out his wand and muttered, “Lumos!” 
A beam of light fell across the grass, hit the bottom of a tree, and illuminated its branches; there, crouching among the budding leaves, was Crookshanks. 
“Get out of here!” Ron roared, and he stooped down and seized a stone lying on the grass, but before he could do anything else, Crookshanks had vanished with one swish of his long ginger tail. 
“See?” Ron said furiously, chucking the stone down again. “She's still letting him wander about wherever he wants — probably washing down Scabbers with a couple of birds now….” 
Harry didn't say anything. He took a deep breath as relief seeped through him; he had been sure for a moment that those eyes had belonged to the Grim. They set off for the castle once more. slightly ashamed of his moment of panic, Harry didn't say anything to Ron — nor did he look left or right until they had reached the well lit entrance hall. 
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　* 
Harry went down to breakfast the next morning with the rest of the boys in his dormitory, all of whom seemed to think the Firebolt deserved a sort of guard of honor. As Harry entered the Great Hall, heads turned in the direction of the Firebolt, and there was a good deal of excited muttering. Harry saw, with enormous satisfaction, that the Slytherin team were all looking thunderstruck. 
“Did you see his face?” said Ron gleefully, looking back at Malfoy. “He can't believe it! This is brilliant!” 
Wood, too, was basking in the reflected glory of the Firebolt. 
“Put it here, Harry,” he said, laying the broom in the middle of the table and carefully turning it so that its name faced upward. People from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were soon coming over to look. Cedric Diggory came over to congratulate Harry on having acquired such a superb replacement for his Nimbus, and Percy's Ravenclaw girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater, asked if she could actually hold the Firebolt. 
“Now, now, Penny, no sabotage!” said Percy heartily as she examined the Firebolt closely. “Penelope and I have got a bet on,” he told the team. “Ten Galleons on the outcome of the match!” 
Penelope put the Firebolt down again, thanked Harry, and went back to her table. 
“Harry — make sure you win,” said Percy, in an urgent whisper. “I haven't got ten Galleons. Yes, I'm coming, Penny!” And he bustled off to join her in a piece of toast. 
“Sure you can manage that broom, Potter?” said a cold, drawling voice. 
Draco Malfoy had arrived for a closer look, Crabbe and Goyle right behind him. 
“Yeah, reckon so,” said Harry casually. 
“Got plenty of special features, hasn't it?” said Malfoy, eyes glittering maliciously. “Shame it doesn't come with a parachute — in case you get too near a Dementor.” 
Crabbe and Goyle sniggered. 
“Pity you can't attach an extra arm to yours, Malfoy,” said Harry. “Then it could catch the Snitch for you.” 
The Gryffindor team laughed loudly. Malfoy's pale eyes narrowed, and he stalked away. They watched him rejoin the rest of the Slytherin team, who put their heads together, no doubt asking Malfoy whether Harry's broom really was a Firebolt. 
At a quarter to eleven, the Gryffindor team set off for the locker rooms. The weather couldn't have been more different from their match against Hufflepuff. It was a clear, cool day with a very light breeze; there would be no visibility problems this time, and Harry, though nervous, was starting to feel the excitement only a Quidditch match could bring. They could hear the rest of the school moving into the stadium beyond. Harry took off his black school robes, removed his wand from his pocket, and stuck it inside the T-shirt he was going to wear under his Quidditch robes. He only hoped he wouldn't need it. He wondered suddenly whether Professor Lupin was in the crowd, watching. 
“You know what we've got to do,” said Wood as they prepared to leave the locker rooms. “If we lose this match, we're out of the running. just — just fly like you did in practice yesterday, and we'll be okay!” 
They walked out onto the field to tumultuous applause. The Ravenclaw team, dressed in blue, were already standing in the middle of the field. Their Seeker, Cho Chang, was the only girl on their team. She was shorter than Harry by about a head, and Harry couldn't help noticing, nervous as he was, that she was extremely pretty. She smiled at Harry as the teams faced each other behind their captains, and he felt a slight lurch in the region of his stomach that he didn't think had anything to do with nerves. 
“Wood, Davies, shake hands,” Madam Hooch said briskly, and Wood shook hands with the Ravenclaw Captain. 
“Mount your brooms … on my whistle … three — two — one —” 
Harry kicked off into the air and the Firebolt zoomed higher and faster than any other broom; he soared around the stadium and began squinting around for the Snitch, listening all the while to the commentary, which was being provided by the Weasley twins’ friend Lee Jordan. 
“They're off, and the big excitement this match is the Firebolt that Harry Potter is flying for Gryffindor. According to Which Broomstick, the Firebolt's going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year's World Championship —” 
“Jordan, would you mind telling us what's going on in the match?” interrupted Professor McGonagall's voice. 
“Right you are, Professor — just giving a bit of background information — the Firebolt, incidentally, has a built-in auto-brake and —” 
“Jordan!” 
“Okay, okay, Gryffindor in possession, Katie Bell of Gryffindor, heading for goal…” 
Harry streaked past Katie in the opposite direction, gazing around for a glint of gold and noticing that Cho Chang was tailing him closely. She was undoubtedly a very good flier — she kept cutting across him, forcing him to change direction. 
“Show her your acceleration, Harry!” Fred yelled as he whooshed past in pursuit of a Bludger that was aiming for Alicia. 
Harry urged the Firebolt forward as they rounded the Ravenclaw goal posts and Cho fell behind. Just as Katie succeeded in scoring the first goal of the match, and the Gryffindor end of the field went wild, he saw it — the Snitch was close to the ground, flitting near one of the barriers. 
Harry dived; Cho saw what he was doing and tore after him — Harry was speeding up, excitement flooding him; dives were his specialty, he was ten feet away — 
Then a Bludger, hit by one of the Ravenclaw Beaters, came pelting out of nowhere; Harry veered off course, avoiding it by an inch, and in those few, crucial seconds, the Snitch had vanished. 
There was a great “Ooooooh” of disappointment from the Gryffindor supporters, but much applause for their Beater from the Ravenclaw end. George Weasley vented his feelings by hitting the second Bludger directly at the offending Beater, who was forced to roll right over in midair to avoid it. 
“Gryffindor leads by eighty points to zero, and look at that Firebolt go! Potter's really putting it through its paces now, see it turn — Chang's Comet is just no match for it, the Firebolt's precision — balance is really noticeable in these long —” 
“JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS? GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!” 
Ravenclaw was pulling back; they had now scored three goals, which put Gryffindor only fifty points ahead — if Cho got the Snitch before him, Ravenclaw would win. Harry dropped lower, narrowly avoiding a Ravenclaw Chaser, scanning the field frantically — a glint of gold, a flutter of tiny wings — the Snitch was circling the Gryffindor goal post… 
Harry accelerated, eyes fixed on the speck of gold ahead — but just then, Cho appeared out of thin air, blocking him — 
“HARRY, THIS IS NO TIME TO BE A GENTLEMAN!” Wood roared as Harry swerved to avoid a collision. “KNOCK HER OFF HER BROOM IF YOU HAVE TO!” 
Harry turned and caught sight of Cho; she was grinning. The Snitch had vanished again. Harry turned his Firebolt upward and was soon twenty feet above the game. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cho following him …She'd decided to mark him rather than search for the Snitch herself…All right, then…if she wanted to tail him, she'd have to take the consequences… 
He dived again, and Cho, thinking he'd seen the Snitch, tried to follow; Harry pulled out of the dive very sharply; she hurtled downward; he rose fast as a bullet once more, and then saw it, for the third time — the Snitch was glittering way above the field at the Ravenclaw end. 
He accelerated; so, many feet below, did Cho. He was winning, gaining on the Snitch with every second — then — 
“Oh!” screamed Cho, pointing. 
Distracted, Harry looked down. 
Three Dementors, three tall, black, hooded Dementors, were looking up at him. 
He didn't stop to think. Plunging a hand down the neck of his robes, he whipped out his wand and roared, “Expecto patronum!” 
Something silver-white, something enormous, erupted from the end of his wand. He knew it had shot directly at the Dementors but didn't pause to watch; his mind still miraculously clear, he looked ahead — he was nearly there. He stretched out the hand still grasping his wand and just managed to close his fingers over the small, struggling Snitch. 
Madam Hooch's whistle sounded. Harry turned around in midair and saw six scarlet blurs bearing down on him; next moment, the whole team was hugging him so hard he was nearly pulled off his broom. Down below he could hear the roars of the Gryffindors in the crowd. 
“That's my boy!” Wood kept yelling. Alicia, Angelina, and Katie had all kissed Harry; Fred had him in a grip so tight Harry felt as though his head would come off In complete disarray, the team managed to make its way back to the ground. Harry got off his broom and looked up to see a gaggle of Gryffindor supporters sprinting onto the field, Ron in the lead. Before he knew it, he had been engulfed by the cheering crowd. 
“Yes!” Ron yelled, yanking Harry's arm into the air. “Yes! Yes!” 
“Well done, Harry!” said Percy, looking delighted. “Ten Galleons to me! Must find Penelope, excuse me —” 
“Good for you, Harry!” roared Seamus Finnigan. 
“Ruddy brilliant!” boomed Hagrid over the heads of the milling Gryffindors. 
“That was quite some Patronus,” said a voice in Harry's ear. 
Harry turned around to see Professor Lupin, who looked both shaken and pleased. 
“The Dementors didn't affect me at all!” Harry said excitedly. “I didn't feel a thing!” 
“That would be because they — er — weren't Dementors,” said Professor Lupin. “Come and see — “ 
He led Harry out of the crowd until they were able to see the edge of the field. 
“You gave Mr. Malfoy quite a fright,” said Lupin. 
Harry stared. Lying in a crumpled heap on the ground were Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Marcus Flint, the Slytherin team Captain, all struggling to remove themselves from long, black, hooded robes. It looked as though Malfoy had been standing on Goyle's shoulders. Standing over them, with an expression of the utmost fury on her face, was Professor McGonagall. 
“An unworthy trick!” she was shouting. “A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker! Detention for all of you, and fifty points from Slytherin! I shall be speaking to Professor Dumbledore about this, make no mistake! Ah, here he comes now!” 
If anything could have set the seal on Gryffindor's victory, it was this. Ron, who had fought his way through to Harry's side, doubled up with laughter as they watched Malfoy fighting to extricate himself from the robe, Goyle's head still stuck inside it. 
“Come on, Harry!” said George, fighting his way over. “Party! Gryffindor common room, now!” 
“Right,” said Harry, and feeling happier than he had in ages, he and the rest of the team led the way, still in their scarlet robes, out of the stadium and back up to the castle. 
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　* 
It felt as though they had already won the Quidditch Cup; the party went on all day and well into the night. Fred and George Weasley disappeared for a couple of hours and returned with armfuls of bottles of butterbeer, pumpkin fizz, and several bags full of Honeydukes sweets. 
“How did you do that?” squealed Angelina Johnson as George started throwing Peppermint Toads into the crowd. 
“With a little help from Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs,” Fred muttered in Harry's ear. 
Only one person wasn't joining in the festivities. Hermione, incredibly, was sitting in a corner, attempting to read an enormous book entitled Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles. Harry broke away from the table where Fred and George had started juggling butterbeer bottles and went over to her. 
“Did you even come to the match?” he asked her. 
“Of course I did,” said Hermione in a strangely high-pitched voice, not looking up. “And I'm very glad we won, and I think you did really well, but I need to read this by Monday.” 
“Come on, Hermione, come and have some food,” Harry said, looking over at Ron and wondering whether he was in a good enough mood to bury the hatchet. 
“I can't, Harry. I've still got four hundred and twenty-two pages to read!” said Hermione, now sounding slightly hysterical. “Anyway…” She glanced over at Ron too. “He doesn't want me to join in.” 
There was no arguing with this, as Ron chose that moment to say loudly, “If Scabbers hadn't just been eaten, he could have had some of those Fudge Flies. He used to really like them —” 
Hermione burst into tears. Before Harry could say or do anything, she tucked the enormous book under her arm, and, still sobbing, ran toward the staircase to the girls’ dormitories and out of sight. 
“Can't you give her a break?” Harry asked Ron quietly. 
“No,” said Ron flatly. “If she just acted like she was sorry — but she'll never admit she's wrong, Hermione. She's still acting like Scabbers has gone on vacation or something.” 
The Gryffindor party ended only when Professor McGonagall turned up in her tartan dressing gown and hair net at one in the morning, to insist that they all go to bed. Harry and Ron climbed the stairs to their dormitory, still discussing the match. At last, exhausted, Harry climbed into bed, twitched the hangings of his four-poster shut to block out a ray of moonlight, lay back, and felt himself almost instantly drifting off to sleep… 
He had a very strange dream. He was walking through a forest, his Firebolt over his shoulder, following something silvery-white. It was winding its way through the trees ahead, and he could only catch glimpses of it between the leaves. Anxious to catch up with it, he sped up, but as he moved faster, so did his quarry. Harry broke into a run, and ahead he heard hooves gathering speed. Now he was running flat out, and ahead he could hear galloping. Then he turned a corner into a clearing and — 
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGHHHHHHH! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” 
Harry woke as suddenly as though he'd been hit in the face. Disoriented in the total darkness, he fumbled with his hangings, he could hear movements around him, and Seamus Finnigan's voice from the other side of the room. 
“What's going on?” 
Harry thought he heard the dormitory door slam. At last finding the divide in his curtains, he ripped them back, and at the same moment, Dean Thomas lit his lamp. 
Ron was sitting up in bed, the hangings torn from one side, a look of utmost terror on his face. 
“Black! Sirius Black! With a knife!” 
“What?” 
“Here! Just now! Slashed the curtains! Woke me up!” 
“You sure you weren't dreaming, Ron?” said Dean. 
“Look at the curtains! I tell you, he was here!” 
They all scrambled out of bed; Harry reached the dormitory door first, and they sprinted back down the staircase. Doors opened behind them, and sleepy voices called after them. 
“Who shouted?” 
“What're you doing?” 
The common room was lit with the glow of the dying fire, still littered with the debris from the party. It was deserted. 
“Are you sure you weren't dreaming, Ron?” 
“I'm telling you, I saw him!” 
“What's all the noise?” 
“Professor McGonagall told us to go to bed!” 
A few of the girls had come down their staircase, pulling on dressing gowns and yawning. Boys, too, were reappearing. 
“Excellent, are we carrying on?” said Fred Weasley brightly. 
“Everyone back upstairs!” said Percy, hurrying into the common room and pinning his Head Boy badge to his pajamas as he spoke. 
“Perce — Sirius Black!” said Ron faintly. “In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!” 
The common room went very still. 
“Nonsense!” said Percy, looking startled. “You had too much to eat, Ron — had a nightmare —” 
“I'm telling you —” 
“Now, really, enough's enough!” 
Professor McGonagall was back. She slammed the portrait behind her as she entered the common room and stared furiously around. 
“I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Percy, I expected better of you!” 
“I certainly didn't authorize this, Professor!” said Percy, puffing himself up indignantly. “I was just telling them all t
o get back to bed! My brother Ron here had a nightmare —” 
“IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!” Ron yelled. “PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!” 
Professor McGonagall stared at him. 
“Don't be ridiculous, Weasley, how could he possibly have gotten through the portrait hole?” 
“Ask him!” said Ron, pointing a shaking finger at the back of Sir Cadogan's picture. “Ask him if he saw —” 
Glaring suspiciously at Ron, Professor McGonagall pushed the portrait back open and went outside. The whole common room listened with bated breath. “Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?” 
“Certainly, good lady!” cried Sir Cadogan. 
There was a stunned silence, both inside and outside the common room. 
“You — you did?” said Professor McGonagall. “But — but the password!” 
“He had ‘em!” said Sir Cadogan proudly. “Had the whole week's, my lady! Read ‘em off a little piece of paper!” 
Professor McGonagall pulled herself back through the portrait hole to face the stunned crowd. She was white as chalk. 
“Which person,” she said, her voice shaking, “which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?” 
There was utter silence, broken by the smallest of terrified squeaks. Neville Longbottom, trembling from head to fluffy slippered toes, raised his hand slowly into the air. 
　罗恩与荷米恩的友谊好像到了结束的时候。彼此都很恼火对方，以至哈利也不知道怎么才能使他们重归于好。 
　　使罗恩愤怒的是，荷米恩从来不当克路殊克吃掉斯卡伯斯是回事，还骗他说克路殊克没什么大不了的，建议罗恩把所有男生的床底都找了一遍。在荷米恩来说，罗恩也好不了多少，他没有一点证据证明斯卡伯斯是克路殊克吃的，那些黄猫毛也许自圣诞以来就已经留在那里的了，再说，事情发生以前，罗恩就对她的猫充满敌意。 
　　就个人意见来说，哈利是相信斯卡伯斯是克路殊克杀的，但当他向荷米恩指出这个那个的证据时，荷米恩也会对哈利发脾气的。 
　　“好的，我知道你会站在罗恩那边的！”荷米恩尖叫道，“首先是霹雳，现在是斯卡伯斯，全都是我的错，不是吗？你们别管我了，我自己的事情还多着呢！” 
　　罗恩还对他的老鼠——他的好朋友的死耿耿于怀。 
　　“来吧，罗恩，你不是说斯卡伯斯有多烦吗？”弗来德用令人振奋的语气劝罗恩，“它这几年都一直身体不适，它去了，也许对它来说是件好事，想想吧，一吞下去，也许一点痛楚也没有！” 
　　“弗来德！”金妮气愤地呵道。 
　　“你说过的，它不是吃就是睡！”乔治说。 
　　“它为我们咬了高尔一口！”罗恩可怜地说，“你还记得吗？哈利？” 
　　“是的，确有此事。”哈利应道。“它的光辉岁月，让那在高尔手上的伤痕成为你刻骨铭心的记忆吧。来，你去霍格马得一趟，买一只新的回来，哭有什么用呢？” 
　　为了让罗恩最终抛开悲痛，重新振作起来，哈利劝罗恩来参加格林芬顿队的最后一次练习。这样他就可以在训练结束后试一试“霹雳”了。这看起来好像真能在一时间使罗恩忘了斯卡伯斯，因为罗恩叫道：“太好了！我真可以坐在上面绕上几圈吗？”就这样，他们肩并肩地向快迪斯场走去。 
　　胡施太太为了照顾哈利，也去看了演练，她也对那霹雳留下了深深的印象，在起飞之前，她手拿着它向他们说述了她那有专业水平的观点。 
　　“注意平衡！如果出错，尾部将出现轻微的倾斜——你们会不难发现它会在几年内长出一个拖曳物，他们已经更新了手柄，这儿细一点，这令我想起那老”银箭“——可惜他们已经不再做那一种了，我从前用它来学飞，那是一支很好的老扫帚……” 
　　她还在发表她的演说，直到伍德忍不住问道：“嗯，胡施太太，哈利想拿回了‘霹雳’，我们是不是可以……我们只是需要它来练习练习而已……” 
　　“好的，拿着，波特，我会和威斯里在这里坐一会儿。” 
　　她和罗恩离开，在运动场边坐下来。这时候，格林芬顿的队员正围着伍德听取为明天的比赛而作的最后指示。 
　　“哈利，我刚才才知道搜索者的角色由卫文卡罗队中一个叫卓的女孩来担任，她读第四年级，是一个不错的女孩子。我真的觉得她并不合适。她的旧伤还未痊逾。” 
　　伍德为卓的康复而脸有难色。“但另一方面，她骑的是‘彗星260’，在霹雳旁一站简直成了笑话。”说着他向哈利的霹雳投去炽热的赞美的目光。“好了，大家开始！” 
　　轻易地，哈利攀上霹雳的背，它随即飞离地面。 
　　霹雳比想象中还要好。它只要轻微地碰一碰就会转弯，似乎知道哈利的想法而不需多加控制似的。它一下子就穿过了练习场地，以飞快的速度飞行，地面上的运动场一下子成了一个绿绿灰灰的模糊的点。哈利来了一个急转变，艾丽斯里。斯宾那忍不住叫出声来。 
　　接着，哈利又来一个漂亮的俯冲，脚尖擦着长着草的训练场，紧接着又冲上空中，30英尺，40英尺，50……。 
　　“哈利，我抛史尼斯球，你接住！”伍德喊道。 
　　哈利掉过头来，向球门迅速飞去，只见史尼斯球从伍德身后抛出，不出10秒，哈利便牢牢握住了它。 
　　队员们疯狂地欢呼起来。哈利让史尼斯球先飞出一分钟，才开始追去。只见他左右穿行，当他发现它悄悄地躲在盖提。贝尔的膝盖旁时，他轻易地绕过她，一把抓住了史尼斯球。 
　　这是有史以来最精彩的演练。队员们因有霹雳在而大受鼓舞，都演练得极精彩，很少出错。因此他们着陆时，伍德也没批评他们半句。正如乔治。威斯里说的，这还是第一次。 
　　“我看明天没什么可阻挡我们的了！”伍德说，“除非——哈利，你那个得蒙特的问题解决了吗？” 
　　“好了。”哈利说着，忽然想到吧卓泥斯的咒语太弱了，要强一点就好。 
　　“那个得蒙特不会再出现的了，奥里沃，丹伯多已经气炸了！”弗来德很自信地说。 
　　“嗯，大家也这么想，无论如何，大家今天表现得很出色，我们回去吧，早点上床休息……” 
　　哈利告诉伍德说：“我在外面稍呆一会儿，罗恩想试一试霹雳。” 
　　当其它队员向更衣室走去时，哈利踱到罗恩跟前，胡施太太已在椅子上睡着了。 
　　哈利递过霹雳，说：“来，给你。” 
　　罗恩的脸上泛起得意的笑容。他爬上霹雳，陡着地向空中越来越浓的夜色飞去。 
　　哈利在下面的场地边缘踱着，看着他，当胡施太太醒来时，天已经全黑了，她责怪了他们两句，说他们为什么不早叫醒她，并坚待说他们一定要马上回去。 
　　哈利扛着霹雳，与罗恩一起走出体育场。边走过讨论著霹雳灵敏的动作，异常快的加速还有那灵活的转弯。走到快一半路了，哈利突然瞥见他左边的一些东西，吓得他心也快蹦出来了——那是一对眼睛，在黑暗中闪烁着。 
　　哈利死死地站在那里不动了，他的心蹦得很厉害，仿佛撞得肋骨也有点痛了。 
　　“怎么啦？”罗恩问。 
　　哈利指了指那里。罗恩抽出魔杖，喃声说：“是西里斯！” 
　　一道光从草丛中横穿过去，在树脚下停了下来，照亮了旁边的嫩叶，是克路殊克！ 
　　“快躲开！”罗恩边吼边弯腰捡起一块石头，但在他还没做出任何动作时，克路殊克已经峻地一声挥动着它的金黄色尾巴，一下子逃得无影无踪。 
　　“看见了吗？”罗恩怒气冲冲地说着丢了手中的石头，“她还敢让它到处乱跑——也许它正和一群鸟在享用着斯卡伯斯呢！” 
　　哈利没说什么。他深深地吸了口冷气。他曾一度确信那双眼睛是西里斯的。他们继续前行。哈利为自己刚才的惊慌有点不好意恩。但他没跟罗恩说什么……他们在到达灯光通明的门厅大堂前也不敢左顾右盼。 
　　第二天早上，哈利和其它男孩子一同下来吃早餐。他们都很以霹雳为荣。哈利进了大堂，大家都向霹雳望去，只听见周围传来不少兴奋的嘟哝。罗恩异常满足地看着，看着史来德林队惊愕的样子。 
　　“你看见他的脸吗？”罗恩欢乐地转向后面对哈利说，“他不可能相信！这真是太好了！” 
　　“放这里吧，哈利。”罗恩说着把霹雳放在桌子中央，很小心地把它的名字转向朝上。在卫文卡罗和海夫巴夫队那边桌的人都凑过来看。塞德里克。迪格瑞走过来，为哈利重获至宝而道贺。伯希在卫文卡罗的女朋友潘妮璐也过来问，看是否能让她握一握霹雳。 
　　“就现在摸一下，别损坏它，可以吗？”伯希毕恭毕敬地看霹雳。 
　　他说，“潘妮璐和我打赌，就为这场比赛赌十个镰刀币。” 
　　潘妮璐放下霹雳，谢过哈利，回到她的桌旁。 
　　“哈利——你一定要赢！”伯希说，吹出一句急促的口哨，“我没有十个镰刀币，啊！潘妮璐，我来了！”他在一片欢呼声中向她奔去。 
　　“你确信你能驾驭这扫帚吗？”冒出一个冷而干涩的声音，杰高。 
　　马尔夫刚到，克来伯和高尔也来了。 
　　“我想没问题。”哈利泰然说道。 
　　“它有很多特色，对吗？”马尔夫的目光充满恶意。“它一定因为没配备降落伞，而使你蒙羞，尤其是你与得蒙特距离很近时。” 
　　克来伯与高尔在暗笑。 
　　“我为你不能多长一只手而可惜，要有的话，它一定能帮你抓住史尼斯球。” 
　　哈利回敬了他一句。 
　　格林芬顿的队员大声地笑起来，马尔夫气得直翻白眼，昂着阔步地走开了。他们看着他加入到史林德林队剩下的人当中，围在一起，头碰头的，他们无疑是在问马尔夫，哈利的扫帚是否真是霹雳。 
　　10点45分，格林芬顿队起来向更衣室走去。天气与海夫巴夫比赛时没什么两样，也是一个晴朗的天气，有一些微风。这就避免了有视野障碍的问题。哈利虽有点紧张，但他也开始感受到那只有快迪斯比赛才能有的快乐。他们开始听见学校里其他人在向体育场走来的声音。哈利脱下他那件黑色校服袍，从口袋里拿出魔杖，插到快迪斯球衣的口袋里，他只希望他用不着它。他突然想知道露平教授是否也在人群当中。 
　　“你们知道自己该怎么做了吧！”伍德在他们准备离开更衣室时对他们说，“如果我们输了，就得退出比赛。像我们平时练习的那样飞翔，你们准行！” 
　　他们步入赛场，接受观众们的喝彩。穿着蓝色赛服的卫文卡罗早已在场中等候了，他们的搜索者卓是队中唯一的女生。她比哈利矮一个头，令哈利不得不注意和紧张的是，她的确是个极其可爱动人的女孩。当两队队员面对面时，她对哈利微微一笑。哈利感到胃部轻微地颤抖了一下，这是与胆量无关的。 
　　“伍德，迪维斯，握握手吧。”胡施太太轻快地说。于是伍德和卫文卡罗队的队长握了握手。 
　　“爬上你的扫帚，听我的哨声……三……二……一……” 
　　哈利一蹬，冲上云霄，霹雳很明显地比其它任何扫帚都快。他在体育场上空高飞盘旋，眯着眼睛寻找史尼斯球，另一方面在竖起耳朵听着李生兄弟威斯里的朋友李。乔丹的评述。 
　　“他们都飞上去了，这场比赛的焦点是格林芬顿队的哈利，他骑的是霹雳。据《扫帚博览》透露，霹雳是今年世界快迪斯赛中我国的首选。” 
　　“乔丹，你能告诉我现在比赛进行得怎样了？”麦康娜教授的声音打断了主持的话。 
　　“对，教授。先介绍一下背景知识，霹雳，顺便提一下，装有一个内置的自动刹停系统和——” 
　　“乔丹！” 
　　“好，好，格林芬顿占上风，凯特。比尔正向目标冲去。” 
　　哈利从凯特身边疾驰而过，从背后飞上来，他注意到一道金光，卓在紧追不舍。 
　　显然她无疑是个很好的飞行高手，她向他径直穿来，直逼他要改变方向。 
　　“哈利，让她看看你的加速度！”弗来德喊道，他正嘶嘶声地追赶一个对准艾丽斯亚的布鲁佐球。 
　　在绕过卫文卡罗的门柱时，哈利催促霹雳前进，卓被抛在后面。 
　　当凯特赢得比赛第一球时，格林芬顿的后场乱了，哈利看见史尼斯球就在离地面不远，正绕过一个障碍物。哈利俯冲下去，卓看见他这样，也紧追过去。哈利在加速，他全身都兴奋起来，俯冲是他的特长，只剩10米远了——这时候，一个被卫文卡罗台球手打中的布鲁佐球向哈利飞来，哈利稍一闪身，躲开了。然而，就在这短短几秒间，史尼斯球不见了。 
　　格林芬顿队的支持者中传来一阵“嘘——”的失望声。乔治。威斯里把他的感受连同布鲁位球一起抛出，直飞刚才的那个击球手，便得他只有向右打了个滚才算避开了。 
　　“格林芬顿队赢80比0，看，霹雳飞得多好！波特真正操控自如了。看它的拐弯——彗星将不再适合了。霹雳精确的平行在这场瞩目的比赛中……” 
　　“乔丹！你是不是收了钱要为霹雳做广告？继续评述好不好！” 
　　卫文卡罗队追上了一点，他们现在进了三球了，这使格林芬顿现在只领先5球。 
　　如果卓先抢到史尼斯球，那么他们就胜出了。哈利飞低一点，刚刚避开卫文卡罗的追逐员，哈利正在焦急地看着赛场。 
　　只见一道金光，一双小翅在振动——史尼斯球正在绕着格林芬顿的球门在旋转。 
　　哈利加速，双眼死死地盯着前面的金点儿——下一秒卓从薄雾中穿出，企图阻挡他。 
　　“哈利！没时间装绅士了！”伍德吼道，那时哈利正偏了一下方向，以免碰撞。 
　　“把她撞下扫帚，如果有必要的话！” 
　　哈利转过头来，看见卓，她正露齿而笑，史尼斯球又不见了，哈利把霹雳朝上，一下子又飞到离赛事20英尺的高处。他看见卓正跟着他，他一定宁愿死盯着他也不去找史尼斯球了。但如果她想这么做，她得承担得起后果…… 
　　他又一次俯冲。卓以为他又看见史尼斯球，死死咬住不放。哈利一个上拉，她还猛地向下冲，他像子弹般向上冲去，于是，他看见了，那史尼斯球正在卫文卡罗后场的上空。 
　　他又加速了，卓也在很低的地方加速，他正步向胜利，一秒又一秒地接近。 
　　“哦！”卓指着那边，尖叫着。 
　　哈利被分散了注意力，向下望去。 
　　三个魔鬼得蒙特，三个高大的黑黑的、戴头巾的得蒙特，他们正抬头看着他。 
　　他并不停下来想，伸手便插进施的领口里，抽出魔杖，念咒道：“伊斯彼特毕朗！” 
　　一个银白色的，奇异的东西从他的杖末出来，他知道这些会向得蒙特直刺过去，但他没停下来看。他的脑海出乎意料地清醒，向前看一一他越来越接近目标了。他伸直他那拿着魔杖的手，刚好抓住了那个小小的还在挣扎的史尼斯球。 
　　胡施太太的哨声响起了。哈利回转身来回到场中央，他看见6个深红色的污点正向他落下。紧接着，队员们向他拥过来，把他抱得紧紧的，几乎连扫帚也抽不出。 
　　他听见格林芬顿的支持者向他欢欣地吼叫着。 
　　“我的好学生！”伍德也欢呼着。艾丽斯亚、安格莉娜和凯特都吻过哈利，弗来德紧紧地抱着他，紧得让他感到头也快掉下来了。在一片混乱中，队员们成功着陆。哈利下了扫帚抬头看见格林芬顿的支持者正在罗恩的带领下前呼后拥地向赛场上跑过来。在他明白过来的时候，他已被人群重重包围了。 
　　“好！”罗恩喊着，高举着哈利的手一个劲地叫“好！” 
　　“好样的，哈利！”伯希看来很高兴，“我赢了10个镰刀币！我必须找到潘妮璐，失陪了——” 
　　“做得好！哈利！”这次轮到谢默斯喊了。 
　　“那真是该谢那些吧卓泥斯咒语。”哈利听见有人这么说了一句。 
　　哈利转过来看了看正开心得有点站不稳的露平教授。 
　　“那个得蒙特魔鬼一点也伤不了我！”哈利兴奋地说，“我根本就不当回事！” 
　　“那可能是——是——他们根本不是得蒙特，来，我们来看看——”露平教授说道。 
　　他领着哈利走出人群，直到看到赛场的边缘。 
　　“你着实吓了马尔夫先生一跳。”露平说。 
　　哈利瞪大眼睛，只见马尔夫、克来伯、高尔和玛尔里。弗林和史林德林队的队长，他们正躺在操场上，挣脱身上的又长又黑的戴头巾的袍。看上去好像马尔夫曾站在他们的肩上。麦康娜教授正满脸怒容地盯着他们。 
　　“一个一文不值的玩笑！”她嚷着，“一个低级的无力的尝试，竟想以此妨害格林芬顿队的搜索者！看你们，还让史林德林扣50分，我得告诉丹伯多教授，啊，他来了。” 
　　如果有什么东西可以成为格林芬顿胜利的巅峰的话，这就是了。 
　　罗恩很艰难地走到哈利身边，告诉他说他刚才看见马尔夫正从长袍中挣脱出来，而高尔的头还困在里头时，他的笑声增大了一倍。 
　　“来吧，哈利！”乔治说着便开路，“派对去，在格林芬顿的公共休息室里，现在就去！” 
　　“好的。”哈利好几年来没那么高兴过了，他和其他队员领头，仍穿着那件深红的长袍，离开体育场回去了。他们仿佛感到他们已赢得快迪斯林。派对持续了一整天直到晚上，弗来德和乔治离开了几个小时，抱回一捆布特毕（奶味啤酒），南瓜汽水和几袋霍格瓦彻牌糖果。 
　　当乔治开始向人们抛薄荷糖时，安格莉娜。琼瑟尖叫道：“你怎么可以这样？” 
　　“一切有莫妮、温特尔、彼弗和拜朗的帮助。”弗来德在哈利身边喃喃说着。 
　　只有一个人没参加派对，是荷米恩。令人难以置信的是，她正坐在一个角落里试图看一本名字叫《英国马格人的家庭社会生活》。 
　　哈利趁弗来德和乔治开始在桌上玩酒瓶游戏时，离开桌子，来到她跟前。 
　　“你看了比赛没有？”哈利问她。 
　　荷米恩用一种尖怪的声调回答：“当然有！”并不抬头看他。她继续说下去：“我很高兴我们胜出了，我也认为你做得不错，但我必须提前读完这本书。” 
　　“来吧，荷米恩，来吃点东西好吗？”哈利说着，看了看罗恩，心里正盘算着罗恩是否有好心情与她重修友好。 
　　“不，我还有422页要读！”现在她的声音里夹着点歇斯底里，“况且……” 
　　她看了罗恩一眼，“他也不想我参加。” 
　　毫无疑问地罗恩选择了这个时候高声说：“如果斯卡伯斯不是刚被吃掉的话，他一定会尝尝这个乳味软糖，他一向都很爱吃这个的哈利还来不及说话或做什么，荷米恩已经哭了，她把书夹在臂下，仍然抽噎着，跑向通往女生宿舍的楼梯，消失在人们视线中。 
　　“你让她休息一下，透口气好不好？”哈利平静地问罗恩。 
　　“不，”罗恩很坦白地说：“如果她是真心诚意表现出同情的那还……但她从不承认是她的错。她还装成好像斯卡伯斯只是出去度假一样。” 
　　派对因麦康娜教授的到来而结束。只见她穿着花格子晚礼服，戴着早晨的发网，坚持说他们应该马上上床睡觉。哈利和罗恩爬上去宿舍的楼梯，一边还在讨论著那场比赛，终于，哈利筋疲力尽地爬上床，扯了扯挂起的四幅海报，把月光挡住。他躺下来，很快就进入了梦乡。 
　　他做了个很奇怪的梦：他扛着霹雳，走进一个森林，后面有一个银白色的东西跟着他。风在吹动着前面的树叶，他只能在叶丛中看到一个模糊的影子，好奇心驱使他赶上前去。他加速前进，那个猎物也加速，哈利跑起来，他听见脚步声也更快。 
　　他竭尽全力地跑，他听见前面像马一样的东西在疾驰。然后，他拐了个弯来到了一个清晰的地方。 
　　“啊——” 
　　他被人打了一下脸，一下子醒了。他在黑暗中不知所措，他摸索着他挂起的海报——他可听见四周的音声，这时，从隔壁传来谢默斯的声音：“发生了什么事？” 
　　哈利想他一定听见了门的砰砰声，最后，他发现窗帘分开了，他扯了一下，这时，迪恩。汤姆斯开了灯。 
　　罗恩坐在床上，脸上显出极恐怖的神色。 
　　“巴拉克，西里斯。巴拉克，还带着刀！” 
　　“什么？” 
　　“刚才，就在这里，他撕裂窗帘，惊醒了我！” 
　　“你肯定你不是在做梦吧，罗恩？”哈利说。 
　　“看那窗帘，我告诉你，他就在这！” 
　　他们都从床上爬起来，哈利首先来到宿舍门口，他们冲进梯间，把开着的门和惺忪的声音抛在后面。 
　　“谁在乱叫？” 
　　“你们干什么？” 
　　公共休息室里亮着疏落的烛光，照亮着派对后留下的垃圾。空荡荡的。 
　　“你肯定你不是在做梦吧，罗恩？” 
　　“我告诉你，我看见他！” 
　　“怎么会那么吵？” 
　　“麦康娜告诉我们要上床睡觉的！” 
　　有些女孩子下了楼梯，打着呵欠，扯着睡施，男孩子也一样，陆续出现。 
　　“太好了，我们继续派对吗？”弗来德高兴地说。 
　　“大家回去！”伯希把徽章钉在睡衣上匆匆赶到教室里。 
　　“伯希——西里斯。巴拉克！”罗恩诚恳地说，“在我们宿舍，拿着刀，惊醒了我！” 
　　教室里顿时静了下来。 
　　“胡说！”伯希惊奇地看着他说，“你一定吃多了，罗恩，你一定是做恶梦。” 
　　“我再说一遍——” 
　　“现在，真的够了，够了！” 
　　麦康娜教授回来了。她看了看，一进来便迁怒开了。 
　　“格林芬顿队胜出这场比赛，我也很高兴，但这样太荒谬了，我对你期望不低的，伯希！” 
　　“我当然没批准他们这样，教授！”他愤慨地喘着气，“我刚才告诉过他们必须回去睡。我弟弟做了恶梦——” 
　　“那不是梦魇！”罗恩喊道，“教授，我醒来看见西里斯。巴拉克站在我面前，还拿着刀！” 
　　麦康娜教授盯着他看。 
　　“别胡闹了，威斯里，他怎么可能穿过画像后的门呢？” 
　　“问他！”罗恩说着，用颤动的手指着卡得格先生画像的后面，“要是他看见……你问他！” 
　　麦康娜教授用猜疑的目光看着他，推开画像的背后，出去了。 
　　“卡得格先生，你刚才是否让一男子进入大楼？” 
　　“当然有，女士。”卡得格先生回答说。 
　　令人毛骨悚然的寂静充满室内外。 
　　“你——你让他进来了？”麦康娜教授问，“但是…那密码……” 
　　“他有！他有整周的密码。” 
　　麦康娜教授看着目瞪口呆的人们，脸色发白。 
　　“是谁？”她颤抖着声音问，“谁会把整周的密码写下，还到处乱丢呢？” 
　　绝对的寂静，连很小的吱吱声也听得见。尼维尔，更是从头抖到穿着绒毛拖鞋的脚，他慢慢地举起手。 
Chapter 15 The Quidditch Final
“He sent me this,” Hermione said, holding out the letter. 
Harry took it. The parchment was damp, and enormous teardrops had smudged the ink so badly in places that it was very difficult to read. 
Dear Hermione, We lost. I'm allowed to bring him back to Hogwarts. Execution date to be fixed. Beaky has enjoyed London. I won't forget all the help you gave us. Hagrid “They can't do this,” said Harry. “They can't. Buckbeak isn't dangerous.” 
“Malfoy's dad's frightened the Committee into it,” said Hermione, wiping her eyes. “You know what he's like. They're a bunch of doddery old fools, and they were scared. There'll be an appeal, though, there always is. Only I can't see any hope…Nothing will have changed.” 
“Yeah, it will,” said Ron fiercely. “You won't have to do all the work alone this time, Hermione. I'll help.” 
“Oh, Ron!” 
Hermione flung her arms around Ron's neck and broke down completely. Ron, looking quite terrified, patted her very awkwardly on the top of the head. Finally, Hermione drew away. 
“Ron, I'm really, really sorry about Scabbers…” she sobbed. 
“Oh — well — he was old,” said Ron, looking thoroughly relieved that she had let go of him. “And he was a bit useless. You never know, Mum and Dad might get me an owl now.” 
The safety measures imposed on the students since Black's second break-in made it impossible for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to go and visit Hagrid in the evenings. Their only chance of talking to him was during Care of Magical Creatures lessons. 
He seemed numb with shock at the verdict. 
“S'all my fault. Got all tongue-tied. They was all sittin’ there in black robes an’ I kep’ droppin’ me notes and forgettin’ all them dates yeh looked up fer me, Hermione. An’ then Lucius Malfoy stood up an’ said his bit, and the Committee jus’ did exac'ly what he told ‘em…” 
“There's still the appeal!” said Ron fiercely. “Don't give up yet, we're working on it!” 
They were walking back up to the castle with the rest of the class. Ahead they could see Malfoy, who was walking with Crabbe and Goyle, and kept looking back, laughing derisively. 
“S'no good, Ron,” said Hagrid sadly as they reached the castle steps. “That Committee's in Lucius Malfoy's pocket. I'm jus’ gonna make sure the rest o’ Beaky's time is the happiest he's ever had. I owe him that….” 
Hagrid turned around and hurried back toward his cabin, his face buried in his handkerchief. 
“Look at him blubber!” 
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had been standing just inside the castle doors, listening. 
“Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?” said Malfoy. “And he's supposed to be our teacher!” 
Harry and Ron both made furious moves toward Malfoy, but Hermione got there first — SMACK! 
She had slapped Malfoy across the face with all the strength she could muster. Malfoy staggered. Harry, Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle stood flabbergasted as Hermione raised her hand again. 
“Don't you dare call Hagrid pathetic, you foul — you evil —” 
“Hermione!” said Ron weakly, and he tried to grab her hand as she swung it back. 
“Get off, Ron!” 
Hermione pulled out her wand. Malfoy stepped backward. Crabbe and Goyle looked at him for instructions, thoroughly bewildered. 
“C'mon.” Malfoy muttered, and in a moment, all three of them had disappeared into the passageway to the dungeons. 
“Hermione!” Ron said again, sounding both stunned and impressed. 
“Harry, you'd better beat him in the Quidditch final!” Hermione said shrilly. “You just better had, because I can't stand it if Slytherin wins!” 
“We're due in Charms,” said Ron, still goggling at Hermione. “We'd better go.” 
They hurried up the marble staircase toward Professor Flitwick's classroom. 
“You're late, boys!” said Professor Flitwick reprovingly as Harry opened the classroom door. “Come along, quickly, wands out, we're experimenting with Cheering Charms today, we've already divided into pairs —” 
Harry and Ron hurried to a desk at the back and opened their bags. Ron looked behind him. 
“Where's Hermione gone?” 
Harry looked around too. Hermione hadn't entered the classroom, yet Harry knew she had been right next to him when he had opened the door. 
“That's weird,” said Harry, staring at Ron. “Maybe — maybe she went to the bathroom or something?” 
But Hermione didn't turn up all lesson. 
“She could've done with a Cheering Charm on her too,” said Ron as the class left for lunch, all grinning broadly — the Cheering Charms had left them with a feeling of great contentment. 
Hermione wasn't at lunch either. By the time they had finished their apple pie, the after-effects of the Cheering Charms were wearing off, and Harry and Ron had started to get slightly worried. 
“You don't think Malfoy did something to her?” Ron said anxiously as they hurried upstairs toward Gryffindor Tower. 
They passed the security trolls, gave the Fat Lady the password (“Flibbertigibbet”), and scrambled through the portrait hole into the common room. 
Hermione was sitting at a table, fast asleep, her head resting on an open Arithmancy book. They went to sit down on either side of her. Harry prodded her awake. 
“Wh — what?” said Hermione, waking with a start and staring wildly around. “Is it time to go? W — which lesson have we got now?” 
“Divination, but it's not for another twenty minutes,” said Harry. “Hermione, why didn't you come to Charms?” 
“What? Oh no!” Hermione squeaked. “I forgot to go to Charms!” 
“But how could you forget?” said Harry. “You were with us till we were right outside the classroom!” 
“I don't believe it!” Hermione wailed. “Was Professor Flitwick angry? Oh, it was Malfoy, I was thinking about him and I lost track of things!” 
“You know what, Hermione?” said Ron, looking down at the enormous Arithmancy book Hermione had been using as a pillow. “I reckon you're cracking up. You're trying to do too much.” 
“No, I'm not!” said Hermione, brushing her hair out of her eyes and staring hopelessly around for her bag. “I just made a mistake, that's all! I'd better go and see Professor Flitwick and say sorry … I'll see you in Divination!” 
Hermione joined them at the foot of the ladder to Professor Trelawney's classroom twenty minutes later, looking extremely harassed. 
“I can't believe I missed Cheering Charms! And I bet they come up in our exams; Professor Flitwick hinted they might!” 
Together they climbed the ladder into the dim, stifling tower room. Glowing on every little table was a crystal ball full of pearly white mist. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down together at the same rickety table. 
“I thought we weren't starting crystal balls until next term,” Ron muttered, casting a wary eye around for Professor Trelawney, in case she was lurking nearby. 
“Don't complain, this means we've finished palmistry,” Harry muttered back. “I was getting sick of her flinching every time she looked at my hands.” 
“Good day to you!” said the familiar, misty voice, and Professor Trelawney made her usual dramatic entrance out of the shadows. Parvati and Lavender quivered with excitement, their faces lit by the milky glow of their crystal ball. 
“I have decided to introduce the crystal ball a little earlier than I had planned,” said Professor Trelawney, sitting with her back to the fire and gazing around. “The fates have informed me that your examination in June will concern the Orb, and I am anxious to give you sufficient practice.” 
Hermione snorted. 
“Well, honestly…‘the fates have informed her'. Who sets the exam? She does! What an amazing prediction!” she said, not troubling to keep her voice low. Harry and Ron choked back laughs. 
It was hard to tell whether Professor Trelawney had heard them as her face was hidden in shadow. She continued, however, as though she had not. 
“Crystal gazing is a particularly refined art,” she said dreamily. “I do not expect any of you to See when first you peer into the Orb's infinite depths. We shall start by practicing relaxing the conscious mind and external eyes —” Ron began to snigger uncontrollably and had to stuff his fist in his mouth to stifle the noise — “so as to clear the Inner Eye and the superconscious. Perhaps, if we are lucky, some of you will see before the end of the class.” 
And so they began. Harry, at least, felt extremely foolish, staring blankly at the crystal ball, trying to keep his mind empty when thoughts such as “this is stupid” kept drifting across it. It didn't help that Ron kept breaking into silent giggles and Hermione kept tutting. 
“Seen anything yet?” Harry asked them after a quarter of an hour's quiet crystal gazing. 
“Yeah, there's a burn on this table,” said Ron, pointing. “Someone's spilled their candle.” 
“This is such a waste of time,” Hermione hissed. “I could be practicing something useful. I could be catching up on Cheering Charms —” 
Professor Trelawney rustled past. 
“Would anyone like me to help them interpret the shadowy portents within their Orb?” she murmured over the clinking of her bangles. 
“I don't need help,” Ron whispered. “It's obvious what this means. There's going to be loads of fog tonight.” 
Both Harry and Hermione burst out laughing. 
“Now, really!” said Professor Trelawney as everyone's heads turned in their direction. Parvati and Lavender were looking scandalized. “You are disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations!” She approached their table and peered into their crystal ball. Harry felt his heart sinking. He was sure he knew what was coming — 
“There is something here!” Professor Trelawney whispered, lowering her face to the ball, so that it was reflected twice in her huge glasses. “Something moving… but what is it?” 
Harry was prepared to bet everything he owned, Including his Firebolt, that it wasn't good news, whatever it was. And sure enough — 
“My dear,” Professor Trelawney breathed, gazing up at Harry. “It is here, plainer than ever before… my dear, stalking toward you, growing ever closer… the Gr —” 
“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” said Hermione loudly. “Not that ridiculous Grim again!” 
Professor Trelawney raised her enormous eyes to Hermione's face. Parvati whispered something to Lavender, and they both glared at Hermione too. Professor Trelawney stood up, surveying Hermione with unmistakable anger. 
“I am sorry to say that from the moment you have arrived in this class my dear, it has been apparent that you do not have what the noble art of Divination requires. Indeed, I don't remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly mundane.” 
There was a moment's silence. Then — 
“Fine!” said Hermione suddenly, getting up and cramming Unfogging the Future back into her bag. “Fine!” she repeated, swinging the bag over her shoulder and almost knocking Ron off his chair. “I give up! I'm leaving!” 
And to the whole class's amazement, Hermione strode over to the trapdoor, kicked it open, and climbed down the ladder out of sight. 
It took a few minutes for the class to settle down again. Professor Trelawney seemed to have forgotten all about the Grim. She turned abruptly from Harry and Ron's table, breathing rather heavily as she tugged her gauzy shawl more closely to her. 
“Ooooo!” said Lavender suddenly, making everyone start. “Ooooo, Professor Trelawney, I've just remembered! You saw her leaving, didn't you? Didn't you, Professor? ‘Around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever!’ You said it ages ago, Professor!” 
Professor Trelawney gave her a dewy smile. 
“Yes, my dear, I did indeed know that Miss Granger would be leaving us. One hopes, however, that one might have mistaken the Signs…The Inner Eye can be a burden, you know…” 
Lavender and Parvati looked deeply impressed, and moved over so that Professor Trelawney could join their table instead. 
“Some day Hermione's having, eh?” Ron muttered to Harry, looking awed. 
“Yeah…” 
Harry glanced into the crystal ball but saw nothing but swirling white mist. Had Professor Trelawney really seen the Grim again? Would he? The last thing he needed was another near-fatal accident, with the Quidditch final drawing ever nearer. 
The Easter holidays were not exactly relaxing. The third years had never had so much homework. Neville Longbottom seemed close to a nervous collapse, and he wasn't the only one. 
“Call this a holiday!” Seamus Finnigan roared at the common room one afternoon. “The exams are ages away, what're they playing at?” 
But nobody had as much to do as Hermione. Even without Divination, she was taking more subjects than anybody else. She was usually last to leave the common room at night, first to arrive at the library the next morning; she had shadows like Lupin's under her eyes, and seemed constantly close to tears. 
Ron had taken over responsibility for Buckbeak's appeal. When he wasn't doing his own work, he was poring over enormously thick volumes with names like The Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology and Fowl or Foul? A Study of Hippogriff Brutality. He was so absorbed, he even forgot to be horrible to Crookshanks. 
Harry, meanwhile, had to fit in his homework around Quidditch practice every day, not to mention endless discussions of tactics with Wood. The Gryffindor-Slytherin match would take place on the first Saturday after the Easter holidays. Slytherin was leading the tournament by exactly two hundred points. This meant (as Wood constantly reminded his team) that they needed to win the match by more than that amount to win the Cup. It also meant that the burden of winning fell largely on Harry, because capturing the Snitch was worth one hundred and fifty points. 
“So you must catch it only if we're more than fifty points up,” Wood told Harry constantly. “Only if we're more than fifty points up, Harry, or we win the match but lose the Cup. You've got that, Haven't you? You must catch the Snitch only if we're —” 
“I KNOW, OLIVER!” Harry yelled. 
The whole of Gryffindor House was obsessed with the coming match. Gryffindor hadn't won the Quidditch Cup since the legendary Charlie Weasley (Ron's second oldest brother) had been Seeker. But Harry doubted whether any of them, even Wood, wanted to win as much as he did. The enmity between Harry and Malfoy was at its highest point ever. Malfoy was still smarting about the mud-throwing incident in Hogsmeade and was even more furious that Harry had somehow wormed his way out of punishment. Harry hadn't forgotten Malfoy's attempt to sabotage him in the match against Ravenclaw, but it was the matter of Buckbeak that made him most determined to beat Malfoy in front of the entire school. 
Never, in anyone's memory, had a match approached in such a highly charged atmosphere. By the time the holidays were over, tension between the two teams and their Houses was at the breaking point. A number of small scuffles broke out in the corridors, culminating in a nasty incident in which a Gryffindor fourth year and a Slytherin sixth year ended up in the hospital wing with leeks sprouting out of their ears. 
Harry was having a particularly bad time of it. He couldn't walk to class without Slytherins sticking out their legs and trying to trip him up; Crabbe and Goyle kept popping up wherever he went, and slouching away looking disappointed when they saw him surrounded by people. Wood had given instructions that Harry should be accompanied everywhere he went, in case the Slytherins tried to put him out of action. The whole of Gryffindor House took up the challenge enthusiastically, so that it was impossible for Harry to get to classes on time because he was surrounded by a vast, chattering crowd. Harry was more concerned for his Firebolt's safety than his own. When he wasn't flying it, he locked it securely in his trunk and frequently dashed back up to Gryffindor Tower at break times to check that it was still there. 
All usual pursuits were abandoned in the Gryffindor common room the night before the match. Even Hermione had put down her books. 
“I can't work, I can't concentrate,” she said nervously. 
There was a great deal of noise. Fred and George Weasley were dealing with the pressure by being louder and more exuberant than ever. Oliver Wood was crouched over a model of a Quidditch field in the corner, prodding little figures across it with his wand and muttering to himself Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were laughing at Fred's and George's jokes. Harry was sitting with Ron and Hermione, removed from the center of things, trying not to think about the next day, because every time he did, he had the horrible sensation that something very large was fighting to get out of his stomach. 
“You're going to be fine,” Hermione told him, though she looked positively terrified. 
“You've got a Firebolt!” said Ron. 
“Yeah …” said Harry, his stomach writhing. 
It came as a relief when Wood suddenly stood up and yelled, “Team! Bed!” 
Harry slept badly. First he dreamed that he had overslept, and that Wood was yelling, “Where were you? We had to use Neville instead!” Then he dreamed that Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherin team arrived for the match riding dragons. He was flying at breakneck speed, trying to avoid a spurt of flames from Malfoy's steed's mouth, when he realized he had forgotten his Firebolt. He fell through the air and woke with a start. 
It was a few seconds before Harry remembered that the match hadn't taken place yet, that he was safe in bed, and that the Slytherin team definitely wouldn't be allowed to play on dragons. He was feeling very thirsty. Quietly as he could, he got out of his four-poster and went to pour himself some water from the silver jug beneath the window. 
The grounds were still and quiet. No breath of wind disturbed the treetops in the Forbidden Forest; the Whomping Willow was motionless and innocent-looking. It looked as though the conditions for the match would be perfect. 
Harry set down his goblet and was about to turn back to his bed when something caught his eye. An animal of some kind was prowling across the silvery lawn. 
Harry dashed to his bedside table, snatched up his glasses, and put them on, then hurried back to the window. It couldn't be the Grim — not now — not right before the match — 
He peered out at the grounds again and, after a minute's frantic searching, spotted it. It was skirting the edge of the forest now…It wasn't the Grim at all … it was a cat … Harry clutched the window ledge in relief as he recognized the bottlebrush tail. It was only Crookshanks… 
Or was it only Crookshanks? Harry squinted, pressing his nose flat against the glass. Crookshanks seemed to have come to a halt. Harry was sure he could see something else moving in the shadow of the trees too. 
And just then, it emerged — a gigantic, shaggy black dog, moving stealthily across the lawn, Crookshanks trotting at its side. Harry stared. What did this mean? If Crookshanks could see the dog as well, how could it be an omen of Harry's death? 
“Ron!” Harry hissed. “Ron! Wake up!” 
“Huh?” 
“I need you to tell me if you can see something!” 
“S'all dark, Harry,” Ron muttered thickly. “What're you on about?” 
“Down here —” 
Harry looked quickly back out of the window. 
Crookshanks and the dog had vanished. Harry climbed onto the windowsill to look right down into the shadows of the castle, but they weren't there. Where had they gone? 
A loud snore told him Ron had fallen asleep again. 
Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall the next day to enormous applause. Harry couldn't help grinning broadly as he saw that both the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were applauding them too. The Slytherin table hissed loudly as they passed. Harry noticed that Malfoy looked even paler than usual. 
Wood spent the whole of breakfast urging his team to eat, while touching nothing himself. Then he hurried them off to the field before anyone else had finished, so they could get an idea of the conditions. As they left the Great Hall, everyone applauded again. 
“Good luck, Harry!” called Cho. Harry felt himself blushing. 
“Okay — no wind to speak of — sun's a bit bright, that could impair your vision, watch out for it — ground's fairly hard, good, that'll give us a fast kickoff —” 
Wood paced the field, staring around with the team behind him. Finally, they saw the front doors of the castle open in the distance and the rest of the school spilling onto the lawn. 
“Locker rooms,” said Wood tersely. 
None of them spoke as they changed into their scarlet robes. Harry wondered if they were feeling like he was: as though he'd eaten something extremely wriggly for breakfast. In what seemed like no time at all, Wood was saying, “Okay, it's time, let's go —” 
They walked out onto the field to a tidal wave of noise. Three quarters of the crowd was wearing scarlet rosettes, waving scarlet flags with the Gryffindor lion upon them, or brandishing banners with slogans like “GO GRYFFINDOR!” and “LIONS FOR THE CUP” Behind the Slytherin goal posts, however, two hundred people were wearing green; the silver serpent of Slytherin glittered on their flags, and Professor Snape sat in the very front row, wearing green like everyone else, and a very grim smile. 
“And here are the Gryffindors!” yelled Lee Jordan, who was acting as commentator as usual. “Potter, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley, and Wood. Widely acknowledged as the best team Hogwarts has seen in a good few years —” 
Lee's comments were drowned by a tide of ‘boos’ from the Slytherin end. 
“And here come the Slytherin team, led by Captain Flint. He's made some changes in the lineup and seems to be going for size rather than skill —” 
More boos from the Slytherin crowd. Harry, however, thought Lee had a point. Malfoy was easily the smallest person On the Slytherin team; the rest of them were enormous. 
“Captains, shake hands!” said Madam Hooch. 
Flint and Wood approached each other and grasped each other's hand very tightly; it looked as though each was trying to break the other's fingers. 
“Mount your brooms!” said Madam Hooch. “Three…two…one…” 
The sound of her whistle was lost in the roar from the crowd as fourteen brooms rose into the air. Harry felt his hair fly back off his forehead; his nerves left him in the thrill of the flight; he glanced around, saw Malfoy on his tail, and sped off in search of the Snitch. 
“And it's Gryffindor in possession, Alicia Spinner of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good, Alicia! Argh, no — Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing UP the field — WHAM! — nice Bludger work there by George Weasley, Warrington drops the Quaffle, it's caught by — Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession, come on, Angelina — nice swerve around Montague — duck, Angelina, that's a Bludger!– SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!” 
Angelina punched the air as she soared around the end of the field; the sea of scarlet below was screaming its delight 
“OUCH!” 
Angelina was nearly thrown from her broom as Marcus Flint went smashing into her. 
“Sorry!” said Flint as the crowd below booed. “Sorry, didn't see her!” 
A moment later, Fred Weasley chucked his Beater's club at the back of Flint's head. Flint's nose smashed into the handle of his broom and began to bleed. 
“That will do!” shrieked Madam Hooch, zooming between then. “Penalty shot to Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty shot to Slytherin for deliberate damage to their Chaser!” 
“Come off it, Miss!” howled Fred, but Madam Hooch blew her whistle and Alicia flew forward to take the penalty. 
“Come on, Alicia!” yelled Lee into the silence that had descended on the crowd. “YES! SHE'S BEATEN THE KEEPER! TWENTY-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!” 
Harry turned the Firebolt sharply to watch Flint, still bleeding freely, fly forward to take the Slytherin penalty. Wood was hovering in front of the Gryffindor goal posts, his jaw clenched. 
“'Course, Wood's a superb Keeper!” Lee Jordan told the crowd as Flint waited for Madam Hooch's whistle. “Superb! Very difficult to pass — very difficult indeed — YES! I DON'T BELIEVE IT! HE'S SAVED IT!” 
Relieved, Harry zoomed away, gazing around for the Snitch, but still making sure he caught every word of Lee's commentary. It was essential that he hold Malfoy off the Snitch until Gryffindor was more than fifty points up — 
“Gryffindor in possession, no, Slytherin in possession — no! Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell, Katie Bell for Gryffindor with the Quaffle, she's streaking up the field — THAT WAS DELIBERATE!” 
Montague, a Slytherin Chaser, had swerved in front of Katie, and instead of seizing the Quaffle had grabbed her head. Katie cart-wheeled in the air, managed to stay on her broom, but dropped the Quaffle. 
Madam Hooch's whistle rang out again as she soared over to Montague and began shouting at him. A minute later, Katie had put another penalty past the Slytherin Seeker. 
“THIRTY-ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING —” 
“Jordan, if you can't commentate in an unbiased way —” 
“I'm telling it like it is, Professor!” 
Harry felt a huge jolt of excitement. He had seen the Snitch — it was shimmering at the foot of one of the Gryffindor goal posts — but he mustn't catch it yet — and if Malfoy saw it — 
Faking a look of sudden concentration, Harry pulled his Firebolt around and sped off toward the Slytherin end — it worked. Malfoy went haring after him, clearly thinking Harry had seen the Snitch there… 
WHOOSH. 
One of the Bludgers came streaking past Harry's right ear, hit by the gigantic Slytherin Beater, Derrick. Then again… 
WHOOSH. 
The second Bludger grazed Harry's elbow. The other Beater, Bole, was closing in. 
Harry had a fleeting glimpse of Bole and Derrick zooming toward him, clubs raised — He turned the Firebolt upward at the last second, and Bole and Derrick collided with a sickening crunch. 
“Ha haaa!” yelled Lee Jordan as the Slytherin Beaters lurched away from each other, clutching their heads. “Too bad, boys! You'll need to get up earlier than that to beat a Firebolt! And it's Gryffindor in possession again, as Johnson takes the Quaffle — Flint alongside her — poke him in the eye, Angelina! — it was a joke, Professor, it was a joke — oh no — Flint in possession, Flint flying toward the Gryffindor goal posts, come on now, Wood, save —!” 
But Flint had scored; there was an eruption of cheers from the Slytherin end, and Lee swore so badly that Professor McGonagall tried to tug the magical megaphone away from him. 
“Sorry, Professor, sorry! Won't happen again! So, Gryffindor in the lead, thirty points to ten, and Gryffindor in possession —” 
It was turning into the dirtiest game Harry had ever played in. Enraged that Gryffindor had taken such an early lead, the Slytherins were rapidly resorting to any means to take the Quaffle. Bole hit Alicia with his club and tried to say he'd thought she was a Bludger. George Weasley elbowed Bole in the face in retaliation. Madam Hooch awarded both teams penalties, and Wood pulled off another spectacular save, making the score forty-ten to Gryffindor. 
The Snitch had disappeared again. Malfoy was still keeping close to Harry as he soared over the match, looking around for it once Gryffindor was fifty points ahead — 
Katie scored. Fifty-ten. Fred and George Weasley were swooping around her, clubs raised, in case any of the Slytherins were thinking of revenge. Bole and Derrick took advantage of Fred's and George's absence to aim both Bludgers at Wood; they caught him in the stomach, one after the other, and he rolled over in the air, clutching his broom, completely winded. 
Madam Hooch was beside herself — 
“YOU DO NOT ATTACK THE KEEPER UNLESS THE QUAFFLE IS WITHIN THE SCORING AREA!” she shrieked at Bole and Derrick. “Gryffindor penalty!” 
And Angelina scored. Sixty-ten. Moments later, Fred Weasley pelted a Bludger at Warrington, knocking the Quaffle out of his hands; Alicia seized it and put it through the Slytherin goal — seventy-ten. 
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　* 
The Gryffindor crowd below was screaming itself hoarse — Gryffindor was sixty points in the lead, and if Harry caught the Snitch now, the Cup was theirs. Harry could almost feel hundreds of eyes following him as he soared around the field, high above the rest of the game, with Malfoy speeding along behind him. 
And then he saw it. The Snitch was sparkling twenty feet above him. 
Harry put on a huge burst of speed; the wind was roaring in his ears; he stretched out his hand, but suddenly, the Firebolt was slowing down — 
Horrified, he looked around. Malfoy had thrown himself forward, grabbed hold of the Firebolt's tail, and was pulling it back. 
“You —” 
Harry was angry enough to hit Malfoy, but couldn't reach — Malfoy was panting with the effort of holding onto the Firebolt, but his eyes were sparkling maliciously. He had achieved what he'd wanted to do — the Snitch had disappeared again. 
“Penalty! Penalty to Gryffindor! I've never seen such tactics.” Madam Hooch screeched, shooting up to where Malfoy was sliding back onto his Nimbus Two Thousand and One. 
“YOU CHEATING SCUM!” Lee Jordan was howling into the megaphone, dancing out of Professor McGonagall's reach. “YOU FILTHY, CHEATING B —” 
Professor McGonagall didn't even bother to tell him off She was actually shaking her finger in Malfoy's direction, her hat had fallen off, and she too was shouting furiously. 
Alicia took Gryffindor's penalty, but she was so angry she missed by several feet. The Gryffindor team was losing concentration and the Slytherins, delighted by Malfoy's foul on Harry, were being spurred on to greater heights. 
“Slytherin in possession, Slytherin heading for goal — Montague scores —” Lee groaned. “Seventy-twenty to Gryffindor…” 
Harry was now marking Malfoy so closely their knees kept hitting each other. Harry wasn't going to let Malfoy anywhere near the Snitch…. 
“Get out of it, Potter!” Malfoy yelled in frustration as he tried to turn and found Harry blocking him. 
“Angelina Johnson gets the Quaffle for Gryffindor, come on, Angelina, COME ON!” 
Harry looked around. Every single Slytherin player apart from Malfoy was streaking up the pitch toward Angelina, including the Slytherin Keeper — they were all going to block her — Harry wheeled the Firebolt around, bent so low he was lying flat along the handle, and kicked it forward. Like a bullet, he shot toward the Slytherins. 
“AAAAAAARRRGH!” 
They scattered as the Firebolt zoomed toward them; Angelina's way was clear. 
“SHE SCORES! SHE SCORES! Gryffindor leads by eighty Points to twenty!” 
Harry, who had almost pelted headlong into the stands, skidded to a halt in midair, reversed, and zoomed back into the middle of the field. 
And then he saw something to make his heart stand still. Malfoy was diving, a look of triumph on his face — there, a few feet above the grass below, was a tiny, golden glimmer — 
Harry urged the Firebolt downward, but Malfoy was miles ahead — 
“Go! Go! Go!” Harry urged his broom. He was gaining on Malfoy — Harry flattened himself to the broom handle as Bole sent a Bludger at him — he was at Malfoy's ankles — he was level — 
Harry threw himself forward, took both hands off his broom. He knocked Malfoy's arm out of the way and — 
“YES!” 
He pulled out of his dive, his hand in the air, and the stadium exploded. Harry soared above the crowd, an odd ringing in his ears. The tiny golden ball was held tight in his fist, beating its wings hopelessly against his fingers. 
Then Wood was speeding toward him, half-blinded by tears; he seized Harry around the neck and sobbed unrestrainedly into his shoulder. Harry felt two large thumps as Fred and George hit them; then Angelina's, Alicia's, and Katie's voices, “We've won the Cup! We've won the Cup!” Tangled together in a many-armed hug, the Gryffindor team sank, yelling hoarsely, back to earth. 
Wave upon wave of crimson supporters was pouring over the barriers onto the field. Hands were raining down on their backs. Harry had a confused impression of noise and bodies pressing in on him. Then he, and the rest of the team, were hoisted onto the shoulders of the crowd. Thrust into the light, he saw Hagrid, Plastered with crimson rosettes — “Yeh beat ‘em, Harry, yeh beat ‘em! Wait till I tell Buckbeak!” 
There was Percy, jumping up and down like a maniac, all dignity forgotten. Professor McGonagall was sobbing harder even than Wood, wiping her eyes with an enormous Gryffindor flag; and there, fighting their way toward Harry, were Ron and Hermione. Words failed them. They simply beamed as Harry was borne toward the stands, where Dumbledore stood waiting with the enormous Quidditch Cup. 
If only there had been a Dementor around…As a sobbing Wood passed Harry the Cup, as he lifted it into the air, Harry felt he could have produced the world's best Patronus. 
“他，他送给我这个。”荷米恩说着拿出了那封信。哈利拿过来。手稿纸是潮湿的，由于浓重的泪痕已经很深的模糊了字迹，读起来十分困难。 
　　亲爱的荷米恩：我们失败了。我被允许将他带回霍格瓦彻。死刑执行的日期已经确定。毕克碧很喜欢伦敦。我不会忘记你给我的所有帮助。 
　　哈格力“他们不能这样做，”哈利说，“他们不能。毕克碧不是个危险人物。” 
　　“马尔夫的父亲威胁委员会宣判了它。”荷米恩哭着说，“你知道他们像什么。 
　　他们是一群笨蛋，而且他们受到了恐吓。哈格力将会上诉，当然，经常会有这种情况。只有我看不到任何希望——任何事情都不会改变。“ 
　　“是的，的确是那样，”罗恩恶毒的说，“这次你不必独自去做那份工作，荷米恩，我将会帮助你。” 
　　“噢，罗恩！” 
　　荷米思急切的抱住他的脖子，完全的崩溃了。罗恩，好像被吓坏了，尴尬地拍着她的头。最后，荷米恩收回手来。 
　　“罗恩，我十分十分为斯卡伯斯难过……”她抽泣着说。 
　　“噢，是这样，它老了。”罗恩说，因她放开了他而显得一副很解脱的样子。 
　　“并且他十分无用，你不会懂，妈妈和爸爸也许给我弄了一只猫头鹰。” 
　　由于巴拉克的第二次侵入使得哈利、罗恩和荷米恩不能在晚上会见哈格力，因为保护措施被强加在学生身上。他们跟他说话的仅有的机会是在“留心马格可。克利特斯”课。 
　　“这仍有上诉！”罗恩凶狠地说，“不要放弃，我们正准备攻克他。” 
　　他们正和班里剩下的人返回城堡。在前面的是马尔夫，他和克来伯及高尔走在一起，并且嘲弄他回头看着。 
　　“这是没有用的，罗恩。”当他们到达城堡的台阶时哈格力伤心地说，“那个判决书在露布斯。马尔夫的口袋里。我正要去让它成为现实就是——毕克碧剩下的时间将会是他最幸福的一段，我断定他……” 
　　哈格力转回身快速的跑回他的小屋，他的脸深藏在手绢后面。 
　　“看他的哭相。” 
　　“你曾经听到过一些十分可怜的事吗？”马尔夫说：“他肯定就是我们的老师。” 
　　哈利和罗恩都急速地奔向马尔夫，但荷米恩先到达了。 
　　她用尽了全力抽打马尔夫的脸。马尔夫摇晃着，哈刮、罗恩、克来伯和高尔都惊愕地站着。荷米恩再次举起了她的手掌。 
　　“你敢说哈格力可怜，你这个令人厌恶的卑鄙家伙。” 
　　“荷米恩！”罗恩虚弱地说，并且在她挥舞回来的时候努力抓住她的手。 
　　“走开，罗恩！” 
　　荷米恩抽出她的魔杖。马尔夫后退了几步，克来伯和高尔完全迷惑地看着他等待指示。 
　　马尔夫低声的抱怨着。过了一会，他们三个已经消失在通往地车的过道中。 
　　“荷米恩！”罗恩沮丧地又说，“哈利，你最好在快迪斯将他最终打败。”荷米恩冷冷地说，“你最好那样，因为如果史林德林胜了，我难以接受这个事实。” 
　　罗恩仍然盯着荷米恩说：“我们最好走快点，要上课了。” 
　　他们急切地奔上通往费立维克教授教室的走廊，哈利打开了教室的门。“快点进来，我们今天正在试验兴奋魔物。我们已经分成了几对。” 
　　哈利和罗恩赶忙走到后面的桌子也打开书包，罗恩从后面望了望荷米恩的座位。 
　　“荷米恩去了哪里？” 
　　哈利也看了看四周，荷米恩没有走进教室，而且哈利知道，当他打开门的时候，她曾在他的后面。 
　　“她很神密的，”哈利盯着罗恩说，“也许，也许她去了卫生间或是别的地方。” 
　　但是荷米恩整节课都没有出现在教室中。 
　　“真有趣的兴奋魔物。”当学生们离开去吃午饭的时候都微笑着——兴奋魔物已经给他们留下了巨大的满足感。 
　　荷米恩没有吃午饭。在他们吃完苹果派的时候，她还没有出现，哈利和罗恩开始有一点轻微的担心。 
　　“不要以为马尔夫对她做了些什么。”罗恩焦急地说。他们急切地走向格林芬顿塔。 
　　他们小心的越过小精灵，给了那个胖大婶通行证，并且爬过了肖像洞，到了公共房间。 
　　荷米恩正坐在桌子边沉睡着，她的头枕在一本打开的书上，他们走进去并坐在她身边，哈利把她弄醒。 
　　“什么？”荷米恩突然醒来望着四周说，“现在该是去上课的时间了吗？我们现在上什么课？” 
　　“分解。但那是二十分钟以后的事，”哈利说：“荷米恩，为什么你没有去上兴奋魔物课。” 
　　“什么？噢，不！”荷米恩尖叫起来，“我忘记去上课了！” 
　　“但是你怎么忘记了呢？”哈利说，“我们在教室外面的时候你跟我们在一起呀！” 
　　“我不相信！”荷术恩哭叫道，“贾立维克教授生气了吗？噢，是马尔夫，我正在想着他的时候，失去了某些记忆！” 
　　“你知道什么，荷米恩，”罗恩向下看到荷米恩当作枕头的书说，“我想你精神崩溃了，你太努力了。” 
　　“不，我没有！”荷米恩掠开挡在眼前的头发无助的看着四周，寻找着她的书包。“我犯了个错误，就这些！我最好去见费立维克教授并道歉……我要在分解课上见到你。” 
　　20分钟以后，荷米恩加入他们去到特雷络尼教授的教室，好像极度的狂热。 
　　“我不能相信我错过了兴奋魔物课，并且我打赌考试会考到他们。费立维克暗示他们会的！” 
　　他们一起爬着梯子去了昏暗的让人感到窒息的塔内。 
　　每个桌子上都有一个个装满白雾的水晶球在微微散发着热气。 
　　哈利、罗恩和荷米恩在一个摇摇晃晃的桌子旁边坐下来。 
　　“我认为，到下个学期之前我们不会开设水晶球课的。”罗恩喃喃的说，并用警惕的目光搜寻特雷络尼教授，防止她在旁边埋伏。 
　　“别报怨，这意味着我们已经完成了手相术。”哈利喃喃的说，“我开始对她每次看到我的手就退缩，感到恶心了！” 
　　“祝你今天开心！”随着这个熟悉的、不清楚的声音，特雷络尼教授像平时那样，突然从阴影中出现了。帕维提和拉温德的脸在散发着微光的水晶球照射下由于兴奋而颤抖着。 
　　“我已经决定比我的计划要早一点介绍这些水晶球。”特雷络尼教授坐下去望着四周说，“命运告诉我，你们七日的考试将考及球体，并且我尽快地给你们提供足够的练习。” 
　　荷米恩轻蔑的哼了一声。 
　　“噢，诚实一点说……‘命运已经告诉了她。’……谁设计了考试？是她！一个多么令人吃惊的预言！”没有任何困难的压低声音说。 
　　很难分辨出特雷络尼教授是否听到了他们，因为她的脸藏在黑影里。好像没有，因为她继续说着。 
　　“水晶收集是一种特别受限制的艺术，”她心不在焉地说。“当你们同辈追求球体的无限的深度时，我不期望你们当中的任何一个去看。我们应该开始练习放松和集中精神。” 
　　罗恩开始暗自窃笑了，为了防止发出声音，他只好把拳头放在嘴边。“这样才能明白空洞的眼睛并且高度的集中，也许如果我们很幸运，你们当中的一些将会在课结束以前看到。” 
　　所以他们开始了。哈利至少感到极度的受愚弄，一直地盯着水晶球，努力保持心无杂物。 
　　“看到什么了吗？”哈利在他们安静地看水晶球大约一刻钟以后问道。 
　　“是的，在桌子上有一团火。”罗恩指着说，“有人把蜡烛滴在上面。” 
　　“这是一种时间的浪费，”荷米恩嘘道，“我可以练习一些有用的事，我可以赶上兴奋魔物课……” 
　　特雷络尼教授瑟瑟地离开了。 
　　“有谁愿意让我帮助他们介入他们的球体吗？”她小声的说，刮擦着她的手镯。 
　　“我不需要帮助，”罗恩尖叫着说，“这暗示着什么是很显明的事，今天晚上将有大雾降临。” 
　　哈利和荷米恩都大笑起来。 
　　“现在，真的！”特雷络尼教授说，当每个人都把头转向这个方面时，帕维提和拉温德正在尴尬的看着。“你正在打扰有超人洞察力的人的振动！”她走近他们的桌子指着他们的水晶球。哈利感到他的心放回肚子里，他确信他知道将要发生什么…… 
　　“这儿有些东西！”特雷络尼教授低声的说，“以致于它被两次反射到他巨大的镜子上，有东西在动，但它是什么？” 
　　哈利准备赌他所有的一切事情，包括他的梦想。那不是一个好消息，无论是什么。并且足够确信…… 
　　“亲爱的……”特雷络尼喘着粗气盯着哈利说。 
　　“他在这儿，比以前平坦……，亲爱的，大踏步的走向你。变的更近了……这是……” 
　　“噢，为了好的原因！”荷米恩大声说，“不要是那个荒谬的笑话。” 
　　特雷络尼抬起她的大眼睛看着荷米恩的脸。帕维提低声的与拉温德说着什么，他们都盯着荷米恩。特雷络尼教授站住了，用审视的眼光看着荷米恩，显得十分愤怒。 
　　“我很抱歉的说，在你学习这门课之后，亲爱的，显然你不具备分解课所应有的艺术。事实上，我从不相信我会遇到一个具有毫无希望的世俗想法的学生。” 
　　出现了片刻的安静，接着——“好极了！”荷米恩突然站起来，勉强的把没有雾的水晶球塞进书包。“好极了！”她重复道，并把书包背到肩上，几乎把罗恩撞下椅子。“我放弃，我要走了！” 
　　令全班人吃惊的是，荷米恩走到门前，一脚踢开门，爬上梯子消失了。 
　　学生们花了几分钟才安静下来，特雷络尼教授微微的露出笑容。她迅速转向哈利和罗恩的桌子，她抓着围巾，急促的呼吸使它更贴近于她。 
　　“噢噢噢！”拉温德突然叫，使每个人都开始了“噢噢……” 
　　“特雷络尼教授，我想起来了，你刚才看见她离开了，是吗？是吗，教授？在几年前你说过，在复活节期间我们当中的一个会永远离开我们！” 
　　特雷络尼教授给了她一个虚假的笑。 
　　“是的，亲爱的。我确实知道荷米恩将会离开我们，然而有人希望，有人会误解暗示……你知道他可能成为一个负担……” 
　　拉温德和帕维提深情的看着，并移动桌子以使特雷络尼能够走近他们。 
　　“某天荷米恩已经来了，噢？”罗恩喃喃的对哈利说，好像很敬畏。 
　　“对……” 
　　哈利看了一眼水晶球，但看不到任何东西，只看到白色的雾气。 
　　特雷络尼教授又看到了微笑吗？是吗？最后一件他所需要经历的事，是几近送命的事故，——而结果更近了。 
　　复活节假期并不轻松。三年已经没有那么多家庭作业。尼维尔兰博顿好像接近于精神的崩溃，并且他不是仅有的一个。 
　　“这是一个所谓的假期，”谢默斯。范尼更在公共休息室里咆哮了一天。“考试是几年前的事了，他们在做些什么？” 
　　但是没有人像荷米恩有那么多事要做。她比别人学了更多的科目。她已经习惯于每天晚上最后一个离开公共休息室，在早上第一个到达图书馆。在她心目中有一个露平的影子，使她经常暗自垂泪。 
　　罗恩已经负责毕克碧的上诉。当他不做自己的工作的时候，他钻研一些诸如名字为《河马鹿心理学手稿》或《猎人还是猎物》之类的卷宗。他沉迷于对哈伯里弗。 
　　布拉斯特的学习，以至于忘记了找克路殊克复仇。 
　　此时，哈利每天只好努力地完成适合于自己的家庭作业与快迪斯练习，更不要说无休止的与伍德谈论数据问题。 
　　格林芬顿VS史林德林比赛将在复活节后一周内举行。史林德林领先其它队大约100分。这意味着（就像伍德经常提醒他的队） 
　　他们要赢才能得到奖杯。它同时意味着赢的重担压在哈利的肩上，因为捕获史尼斯球值150分。 
　　“你必须抓住它，它可使我们以50分领先。”伍德坦白地告诉哈利。“我们必须有50分的领先，哈利，否则我们赢得了比赛但却得不到奖杯。你上一场干的不错，对吗？你只有抓住史尼斯球，如果我们……” 
　　“我知道了，奥立弗！”哈利大声应道。 
　　整个格林芬顿学院的人的心被将要到来的快迪斯杯占据着。马尔夫仍对霍格马得时的扭泥巴事件怀恨在心，且更愤怒于哈利逃脱惩罚。哈利也没有忘记，马尔夫曾经企图阴谋破坏他在对抗卫文卡罗的比赛中取胜，但对于毕克碧的事，使他们决定在全校的学生面前打败马尔夫。 
　　在任何人的记忆中，没有一场比赛像它一样占据着人们的心。 
　　在假期到来的时候，两个队的紧张程度和他们的学院都面临着崩溃的一刻。大量的混战发生在走廊上，最后以格林芬顿的～个四年级生和史林德林的一个六年级生大打出手并双双入院治疗而结束。 
　　哈利正处在一个更坏的时期里。他没有格林芬顿的支持者的保 
　　护就不能到达教室去听课。克来伯和高尔不断地在他去上课的时候出现。当他们看到哈利被人群围住的时候，露出失望的神情并无精打采的离开。伍德已经指示哈利时刻跟着他，以防止史林德林的支持者们的敌视失控。格林芬顿班里所有的人都热情的接受了挑战，以致于哈利不能按时上课。因为他被密匝的、议论纷纷的人群包围着。哈利对霹雳的安全的关心更甚至对他自己的关心。当他不玩它时，他把它锁在箱子里，并且常在课间冲回格林芬顿塔检查以保证它仍在那儿。 
　　在格林芬顿的公共休息室里，在比赛的前夕，所有的平时的爱好被放弃了，甚至连荷米思也放下了她的书本。 
　　“我不能工作，我不能集中精神。”她有点神经质的说。 
　　这里有严重的噪音。弗来德和乔治正在承受着前所未有的巨大声音和更大的压力。在一个角落里，奥立弗。伍德蹲在快迪斯模型旁边，用他的魔杖测量着什么，并不时地自言自语的说些什么。安格莉娜、艾丽斯亚和凯特正在因为弗来德和乔治的笑话而大笑。哈利和罗恩与荷米恩坐在一起，努力从人群中脱离。因为每次大比赛前他都这样。他有那种可怕的感觉，就是努力抑制自己想吐的感觉。 
　　“你将会很出色的。”荷米恩告诉她，虽然她并不以为那样。 
　　“你已经得到了一个史尼斯球！”罗恩说。 
　　“是的……！”哈利说，他的胃翻滚起来。 
　　当伍德突然站起来宣布，“队员睡觉！”这简直是一种解脱。 
　　哈利睡得很本好。一开始他做梦，梦见自己睡过头了。以致于伍德大声的询问，“你去了哪里？我们只好让尼维尔代替你！”后来又梦到马尔夫和其余的史林德林队员骑龙到达赛场参加比赛。他以极危险的高速飞行，努力避免马尔夫的具嘴的侮辱，以致于逃脱后忘记了他的史尼斯球。他从空中掉下来并突然醒来。 
　　几秒钟以后，哈利才记起来——比赛还没有进行呢。他在床上很安全。而且史林德林队也不被允许用龙。他觉得非常口渴。他尽量保持平静地从帐帷中出来，走到窗户底下的银壶边喝水。 
　　大地一片沉寂，没有风吹刮的声音，胡宾柳树一动不动的立在那里。一切迹象表明比赛将会非常圆满。 
　　哈利放下瓷林准备回床上时，突然发现了什么。一种爬行动物爬过了银色的球场。 
　　哈利冲向桌边抓起他的眼镜并戴上，急忙返回窗前，不可能是格拉菲——不是现在——不是正在比赛之前——他又看向操场外边，经过几分钟的细致观察，确定了它是在森林边滑行……绝对不是格拉菲是……是一只猫，哈利贴在窗边，当他看清楚它的尾巴，那不是克路殊克吗？哈利斜着眼睛，扁平的鼻子紧紧地压在玻璃上。 
　　克路殊克好像停了下来，哈利确信他可以看到其它的什么东西也在树影子下面移动。 
　　过了一会儿，它出现了，一只巨大的长有粗毛的黑狗偷偷地穿过草坪，克路殊克急速地跟在一旁。哈利盯着它们，这意味着什么？如果克路殊克能够看到那只狗。 
　　那说明它也会魔法，但这完全不可能。 
　　“罗恩！”哈利低声叫着。“罗恩！醒醒！” 
　　“唔。” 
　　“我要你告诉我，你是否看到了些什么！” 
　　“这全是黑漆漆的，哈刮，”罗恩不耐烦的发着牢骚，“你在干什么？” 
　　“在那边——” 
　　哈利迅速回过头望向窗外。 
　　克路韩克和那只狗消失了。哈利爬上窗子去看城堡下方的阴影，但他们不在那儿。他们去了哪里？ 
　　大声的呼噜声说明罗恩又一次睡着了。 
　　第二天，哈利和剩下的格林芬顿队员进入大厅时受到热烈的欢迎。当哈利看到卫文卡罗和海夫已夫学院的学生时，他们都大嚷着：“好了，给我们一个快速的射门……” 
　　伍德盯着他后面的队伍，最后看着前面远处开启的城门和草坪那边的学校。 
　　“换房间。”伍德简明的说。 
　　当他们换小毯子的时候没有人说话。哈利想知道他们是否与他有同感，“虽然他早饭上吃了极难消化的食物。”看起来好像没有时间了。伍德发话了，“OK，是时间了，我们出发……” 
　　他们走到充满强大噪音的快迪斯球场上。约有四分之三的人都戴着鲜红的玫瑰花束，挥舞着绣有格林芬顿狮子或是印有“格林芬顿必胜！”及“奖杯属于狮子！” 
　　的标语的小旗子。在史林德林的得分区，约有二百人身着绿装，史林德林的银蛇在旗子上面闪闪发光。史纳皮教授带着一种非常凶狠的笑容，与其它人一样身着绿装，坐在第一排上。 
　　“这就是格林芬顿队！”李。乔丹叫道。他像往常一样担任赛况解说员。“波特、比尔、琼瑟、斯宾那、威斯里和伍德。这是近几年来公认的最好的队员。” 
　　李的评论被来自史林德林队中的嘘声淹没。然而，哈利认为李的评论恰如其份。 
　　马尔夫几乎是史林德林队中最矮小的人，而其他队员都是巨大的。 
　　“请两位队长握握手！”胡施女土道。 
　　史林斯与伍德走近对方，紧紧地抓住对方的手，看上去好像要把对方的手指捏碎。 
　　“数数你们的队员！”胡施女士说，“三……二……—……” 
　　当荷术恩看到队员出场的时候，观众的呼喊声淹没了她的尖叫声。哈利觉得自己的头发从前额向后飞扬着，他的神经好像感到了飞行的一阵阵寒意。他向四周看了看，看见马尔夫正用全力寻找史尼斯球。 
　　“现在是格林芬顿控制场面。格林芬顿队的艾丽斯亚领宾那和可尔夫球正在向史林德林队的得分区挺进。看起来很好，艾丽斯亚！不——可尔夫球被华宁椽拦住了。史林德林队的华宁橡奋力投掷了——哇！——乔治。威斯里干的漂亮，华宁椽掷向了可尔夫球，但琼瑟接住了它，格林芬顿队又控制了场面，继续、安格莉娜——绕蒙特格转的漂亮——低头，安格莉娜，那是个布鲁佐球！——她得分了！格林芬顿队得了十分！” 
　　安格莉娜在投掷后向空中重重一台，红色的人潮高兴的尖叫着。 
　　“哦！” 
　　安格莉娜差点扔掉球棒，因为史林斯向她冲过来。 
　　“对不起！”当观众大叫起来时，史林斯说，“对不起，我没看见她！” 
　　过了一会儿，弗来德。威斯里将他的球棍击向了史林斯的后脑勺。史林斯的鼻子撞在棒桶上并开始流血了。 
　　“只好这样了！”胡施女士站在他们中间大声说，“判格林芬顿队无意识伤害对手，判史林德林队蓄意伤害对方。” 
　　“取消判决，小姐！”史林斯大叫道。但胡施女士已经吹响了哨子，而安格莉娜已飞奔到前面去接受治疗。 
　　“过来，安格莉娜！”李打破了安静，且有许多观众电跟着喊，“对！她是被打的！格林芬顿队应得20分！” 
　　哈利迅速把霹雳转向还在流血的史林斯，飞到前面准备让史林德林队接受惩罚。 
　　伍德在格林芬顿队的得分区上空盘旋，他的牙关紧咬着。 
　　“当然，伍德是一位超凡的守门员！”当弗林特在等待胡施夫人的哨声时，李。 
　　乔丹告诉观众，“超人很难通过——的确十分困难一是的，不得不相信！他会救起每一个球！” 
　　解脱了，哈利直飞上升去寻找史尼斯球，但他确信听到李的每一句评论。十分必要的是他阻止马尔夫得到史尼斯球，直到格林芬顿超过了50分…… 
　　“格林芬顿队领先！不！史林德林队领先！不！格林芬顿队又领先了！现在是凯蒂。保尔，格林芬顿队的凯蒂。保尔拿着可尔夫球，她要飞跑着掷球——” 
　　“三十分！你们能拿去吗？你们这群无耻的家伙。欺骗……” 
　　“乔丹，如果你不能毫无偏见的评解……！” 
　　“我正在就实况解说，教授！” 
　　哈利感到强烈的兴奋。他已看见了史尼斯球——它正在格林芬顿的一个得分区下闪闪发光——但他现在不能立刻去抓它。并且如果马尔夫看到它…… 
　　哈利假装了一会儿，突然的聚精会神，他拉开他的霹雳回头，并快速的向史林德林队的底线冲去。起作用了，马尔夫紧紧地跟在他的后面，显然他以为哈利已经发现了史尼斯球在那…… 
　　扑呼。 
　　一个体形庞大的史林德林击球手在哈利的右边来了个急转弯。 
　　又过了一会儿——扑哧。 
　　第二个台球手特奈克已经抓住了哈利的肘部。另外一个击球手——布尔向他飞来，手柄上升——哈利在最后一秒钟把霹雳抬升，布尔和特奈克猛烈的撞在一起。 
　　“哈，哈哈！”李。乔丹看到两个史林德林队员分开时还抓住彼此的头时大声叫道，“太糟糕了！孩子们！你们应该在碰在一起前早点回头！现在又是格林芬顿队领先，安格莉娜拿到了可尔夫球——史林斯在她的旁边——刺激他的眼睛，安格莉娜！——这是个玩笑，教授，这是个玩笑——唉，不——史林斯领先了，史林斯特正飞向格林芬顿的得分区，来吧，现在，伍德，救起它——！” 
　　但是史林斯得分了，格林芬顿的欢呼声削弱了。由于李那污秽的谩骂，麦康娜教授努力从他身边取走了磁力传声筒。 
　　“对不起，教授，对不起！再也不会发生这种事情了！现在是格林芬顿领先，30分比10分，格林芬顿控制了场面——” 
　　这是哈利有史以来参加的最糟糕的一场比赛了。由于格林芬顿那么早就领先了，被激怒了的史林德林队员们加快用各种办法取得可尔夫球。布尔用他的球棒打艾丽斯亚，还极力狡辨说他以为她是布鲁佐球。乔治。威斯里用肘挤布尔的脸作为惩罚。 
　　同时，伍德又救起了一个可尔夫球，为格林芬顿队将比分变为40比10.史尼斯球又消失了。马尔夫仍跟在哈利后面，而哈利则在赛场上飞翔四处寻找它——一旦格林芬顿队以50分领先…… 
　　卡特得分了。50比10.弗来德和乔治正在积极地保护他。球棒举起来防止任何史林德林队员妄想报复。布尔和特奈克趁弗来德和乔治脱离岗位去别的布鲁佐球目标而不注意伍德时，他们一个接一个在空中翻滚打在他的肚子上，还抓住他的扫帚，使他几乎透不气来。 
　　胡施夫人站在她的位置上。 
　　“除非对方在得分区，否则你们不能攻击对方！”胡施向布尔和特奈克叫道，“史林德林！犯规！” 
　　安格莉娜得分了。60比10.过了一会儿，弗来德向华宁椽打出了一个布鲁佐球，从他手中把可尔夫球打了出来。艾丽斯亚抓住机会并把它打入史林德林的球门。将比分变为70比10.格林芬顿队的支持者尖叫起来。现在，格林芬顿队领先对手六十分了。而且如果哈利抓住史尼斯球，奖杯就属于他们了。哈利几乎可以感觉到有几百双眼睛正在盯着他在赛场上飞来飞去，而马尔夫仍紧紧地跟在后面。 
　　哈利突然加速，风在耳边呼呼作响。他伸出了他的手，但霹雳球忽然慢了下来。 
　　真可怕，他向四周一看。马尔夫已经冲到了后面，抓住霹雳的尾巴把它往后拖。 
　　“你” 
　　哈利愤怒地想打马尔夫，可他够不着。马尔夫喘息着奋力地抓向史尼斯球，他的眼里闪烁着凶残的目光。不过，他已经得到了他所需要的——史尼斯球又一次消失了。 
　　“处罚！处罚史林德林队！我还没见过这种诡计！”胡施夫人愤怒的叫道，当马尔夫滑回他的得分区时，胡施夫人冲向那个地方。 
　　“你这个骗人的渣滓！”李。乔丹在话筒里大声的咒骂道，同时躲避着麦康娜教授的到来。“你这个肮脏的家伙，欺骗的——” 
　　麦康娜教授根本没有阻止他说下去。实际上，她正在向马尔夫晃拳头。她的帽子掉了下来，而她还在愤怒的嚷着。 
　　艾丽斯亚实施了对史林德林的处罚，但她对失去的优势而感到愤怒。格林芬顿队员正在丧失凝聚力，而史林德林队员对马尔夫的恶劣行径却很兴奋，这击起了更大的斗志。 
　　“格林芬顿队处于领先地位，史林德林队得分——蒙特格得分——”李叫道，“70比20，格林芬顿队领先……” 
　　哈利现在与马尔夫很近以致于他们的膝盖总是撞到一块儿。哈刮绝对不会让马尔夫接近史尼斯球…… 
　　“让开，波特！”马尔夫叫道，因为他想转弯而哈利挡住了他。 
　　“安格莉娜为格林芬顿队拿到了可尔夫球。继续，安格莉娜，继续！” 
　　哈利向四周一看，所有的单独的史林德林队员都离开马尔夫而撞向安格莉娜——他们都去挡住她——哈利将布鲁佐球转过来，把它像子弹一样踢向前方。他打向前面的史林德林队员。 
　　“啊——！” 
　　他们尖叫的声音就好像布鲁佐球飞向了他们，安格莉娜的路被清理了。 
　　“她得分了！她得分了！格林芬顿以80比20领先！” 
　　哈利在空中稍做了一次停留，改变方向去投掷区。 
　　他发现的一些东西使他停下来。马尔夫正在猛冲，成功的欲望显现在脸上——那儿，几米之外的草坪下面闪出一种金色的微光。 
　　哈利急忙发动霹雳，向下冲去，但马尔夫超前于他几英尺。 
　　“快！快！快！”哈利发动他的扫帚。他在跟马尔夫竞争…，……哈利把自己在扫帚上放平，而布尔送给他一个布鲁位球……他是马尔夫的跟班……他是水平的——哈利将自己抛向前面，两手放开了扫
Chapter 17 Cat,Rat And Dog
Harry's mind had gone blank with shock. The three of them stood transfixed with horror under the Invisibility Cloak. The very last rays of the setting sun were casting a bloody light over the long-shadowed grounds. Then, behind them, they heard a wild howling. 
“Hagrid,” Harry muttered. Without thinking about what he was doing, he made to turn back, but both Ron and Hermione seized his arms. 
“We can't,” said Ron, who was paper-white. “He'll be in worse trouble if they know we've been to see him….” 
Hermione's breathing was shallow and uneven. 
“How — could — they?” she choked. “How could they?” 
“Come on,” said Ron, whose teeth seemed to be chattering. 
They set off back toward the castle, walking slowly to keep themselves hidden under the cloak. The light was fading fast now. 
By the time they reached open ground, darkness was settling like a spell around them. 
“Scabbers, keep still,” Ron hissed, clamping his hand over his chest. The rat was wriggling madly. Ron came to a sudden halt, trying to force Scabbers deeper into his pocket. “What's the matter with you, You stupid rat? Stay still — OUCH! He bit me!” 
“Ron, be quiet!” Hermione whispered urgently. “Fudge'll be out here in a minute —” 
“He won't — stay — put —” 
Scabbers was plainly terrified. He was writhing with all his might, trying to break free of Ron's grip. 
“What's the matter with him?” 
But Harry had just seen — stinking toward them, his body low to the ground, wide yellow eyes glinting eerily in the darkness — Crookshanks. Whether he could see them or was following the sound of Scabbers's squeaks, Harry couldn't tell. 
“Crookshanks!” Hermione moaned. “No, go away, Crookshanks! Go away!” 
But the cat was getting nearer — 
“Scabbers — NO!” 
Too late — the rat had slipped between Ron's clutching fingers, hit the ground, and scampered away. In one bound, Crookshanks sprang after him, and before Harry or Hermione could stop him, Ron had thrown the Invisibility Cloak off himself and pelted away into the darkness. 
“Ron!” Hermione moaned. 
She and Harry looked at each other, then followed at a sprint; it was impossible to run full out under the cloak; they pulled it off and it streamed behind them like a banner as they hurtled after Ron; they could hear his feet thundering along ahead and his shouts at Crookshanks. 
“Get away from him — get away — Scabbers, come here —” 
There was a loud thud. 
“Gotcha! Get off, you stinking cat —” 
Harry and Hermione almost fell over Ron; they skidded to a stop right in front of him. He was sprawled on the ground, but Scabbers was back in his pocket; he had both hands held tight over the quivering lump. 
“Ron — come on back under the cloak —” Hermione panted. “Dumbledore — the Minister — they'll be coming back out in a minute —” 
But before they could cover themselves again, before they could even catch their breath, they heard the soft pounding of gigantic paws…. Something was bounding toward them, quiet as a shadow — an enormous, pale-eyed, jet-black dog. 
Harry reached for his wand, but too late — the dog had made an enormous leap and the front paws hit him on the chest; he keeled over backward in a whirl of hair; he felt its hot breath, saw inch-long teeth - 
But the force of its leap had carried it too far; it rolled off him. Dazed, feeling as though his ribs were broken, Harry tried to stand up; he could hear it growling as it skidded around for a new attack. 
Ron was on his feet. As the dog sprang back toward them he pushed Harry aside; the dog's jaws fastened instead around Ron's outstretched arm. Harry lunged forward, he seized a handful of the brute's hair, but it was dragging Ron away as easily as though he were a rag doll — 
Then, out of nowhere, something hit Harry so hard across the face he was knocked off his feet again. He heard Hermione shriek with pain and fall too. 
Harry groped for his wand, blinking blood out of his eyes 
“Lumos!” he whispered. 
The wandlight showed him the trunk of a thick tree; they had chased Scabbers into the shadow of the Whomping Willow and its branches were creaking as though in a high wind, whipping backward and forward to stop them going nearer. 
And there, at the base of the trunk, was the dog, dragging Ron backward into a large gap in the roots — Ron was fighting furiously, but his head and torso were slipping out of sight — 
“Ron!” Harry shouted, trying to follow, but a heavy branch whipped lethally through the air and he was forced backward again. 
All they could see now was one of Ron's legs, which he had hooked around a root in an effort to stop the dog from pulling him farther underground — but a horrible crack cut the air like a gunshot; Ron's leg had broken, and a moment later, his foot vanished from sight. 
“Harry — we've got to go for help —” Hermione gasped; she was bleeding too; the Willow had cut her across the shoulder. 
“No! That thing's big enough to eat him; we haven't got time —” 
“Harry — we're never going to get through without help —” 
Another branch whipped down at them, twigs clenched like knuckles. 
“If that dog can get in, we can,” Harry panted, darting here and there, trying to find a way through the vicious, swishing branches, but he couldn't get an inch nearer to the tree roots without being in range of the tree's blows. 
“Oh, help, help,” Hermione whispered frantically, dancing uncertainly on the spot, “Please…” 
Crookshanks darted forward. He slithered between the battering branches like a snake and placed his front paws upon a knot on the trunk. 
Abruptly, as though the tree had been turned to marble, it stopped moving. Not a leaf twitched or shook. 
“Crookshanks!” Hermione whispered uncertainly. She now grasped Harry's arm painfully hard. “How did he know —?” 
“He's friends with that dog,” said Harry grimly. “I've seen them together. Come on — and keep your wand out —” 
They covered the distance to the trunk in seconds, but before they had reached the gap in the roots, Crookshanks had slid into it with a flick of his bottlebrush tail. Harry went next; he crawled forward, headfirst, and slid down an earthy slope to the bottom of a very low tunnel. Crookshanks was a little way along, his eyes flashing in the light from Harry's wand. Seconds later, Hermione slithered down beside him. 
“Where's Ron?” she whispered in a terrified voice. 
“This way,” said Harry, setting off, bent-backed, after Crookshanks. 
“Where does this tunnel come out?” Hermione asked breathlessly from behind him. 
“I don't know…It's marked on the Marauder's Map but Fred and George said no one's ever gotten into it…It goes off the edge of the map, but it looked like it was heading for Hogsmeade…” 
They moved as fast as they could, bent almost double; ahead of them, Crookshanks's tail bobbed in and out of view. On and on went the passage; it felt at least as long as the one to Honeydukes… All Harry could think of was Ron and what the enormous dog might be doing to him…He was drawing breath in sharp, painful gasps, running at a crouch…. 
And then the tunnel began to rise; moments later it twisted, and Crookshanks had gone. Ahead Harry could see a patch of dim light through a small opening. 
He and Hermione paused, gasping for breath, edging forward. Both raised their wands to see what lay beyond. 
It was a room, a very disordered, dusty room. Paper was peeling from the walls; there were stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture was broken as though somebody had smashed it. The windows were all boarded up. 
Harry glanced at Hermione, who looked very frightened but nodded. 
Harry pulled himself out of the hole, staring around. The room was deserted, but a door to their right stood open, leading to a shadowy hallway. Hermione suddenly grabbed Harry's arm again. Her wide eyes were traveling around the boarded windows. 
“Harry,” she whispered, “I think we're in the Shrieking Shack.” 
Harry looked around. His eyes fell on a wooden chair near them. Large chunks had been torn out of it; one of the legs had been ripped off entirely. 
“Ghosts didn't do that,” he said slowly. 
At that moment, there was a creak overhead. Something had moved upstairs. Both of them looked up at the ceiling. Hermione's grip on Harry's arm was so tight he was losing feeling in his fingers. He raised his eyebrows at her; she nodded again and let go. 
Quietly as they could, they crept out into the hall and up the crumbling staircase. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust except the floor, where a wide shiny stripe had been made by something being dragged upstairs. 
They reached the dark landing. 
“Nox,” they whispered together, and the lights at the end of their wands went out. Only one door was open. As they crept toward it, they heard movement from behind it; a low moan, and then a deep, loud purring. They exchanged a last look, a last nod. 
Wand held tightly before him, Harry kicked the door wide open. 
On a magnificent four-poster bed with dusty hangings lay Crookshanks, purring loudly at the sight of them. On the floor beside him, clutching his leg, which stuck out at a strange angle, was Ron. 
Harry and Hermione dashed across to him. 
“Ron — are you okay?” 
“Where's the dog?” 
“Not a dog,” Ron moaned. His teeth were gritted with pain. “Harry, it's a trap —” 
“What —” 
“He's the dog…he's an Animagus.” 
Ron was staring over Harry's shoulder. Harry wheeled around. With a snap, the man in the shadows closed the door behind them. 
A mass of filthy, matted hair hung to his elbows. If eyes hadn't been shining out of the deep, dark sockets, he might have been a corpse. The waxy skin was stretched so tightly over the bones of his face, it looked like a skull. His yellow teeth were bared in a grin. It was Sirius Black. 
“Expelliarmus!” he croaked, pointing Ron's wand at them. 
Harry's and Hermione's wands shot out of their hands, high in the air, and Black caught them. Then he took a step closer. His eyes were fixed on Harry. 
“I thought you'd come and help your friend,” he said hoarsely. 
His voice sounded as though he had long since lost the habit of using it. “Your father would have done the same for me. Brave of you not to run for a teacher. I'm grateful…it will make everything much easier….” 
The taunt about his father rang in Harry's ears as though Black had bellowed it. A boiling hate erupted in Harry's chest, leaving no place for fear. For the first time in his life, he wanted his wand back in his hand, not to defend himself, but to attack…to kill. Without knowing what he was doing, he started forward, but there was a sudden movement on either side of him and two pairs of hands grabbed him and held him back… “No, Harry!” Hermione gasped in a petrified whisper; Ron, however, spoke to Black. 
“If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too!” he said fiercely, though the effort of standing upright was draining him of still more color, and he swayed slightly as he spoke. 
Something flickered in Black's shadowed eyes. 
“Lie down,” he said quietly to Ron. “You will damage that leg even more.” 
“Did you hear me?” Ron said weakly, though he was clinging painfully to Harry to stay upright. “You'll have to kill all three of us!” 
“There'll be only one murder here tonight,” said Black, and his grin widened. 
“Why's that?” Harry spat, trying to wrench himself free of Ron, and Hermione. “Didn't care last time, did you? Didn't mind slaughtering all those Muggles to get at Pettigrew…What's the matter, gone soft in Azkaban?” 
“Harry!” Hermione whimpered. “Be quiet!” 
“HE KILLED MY MUM AND DAD!” Harry roared, and with a huge effort he broke free of Hermione's and Ron's restraint and lunged forward — 
He had forgotten about magic — he had forgotten that he was short and skinny and thirteen, whereas Black was a tall, full-grown man — all Harry knew was that he wanted to hurt Black as badly as he could and that he didn't care how much he got hurt in return — 
Perhaps it was the shock of Harry doing something so stupid, but Black didn't raise the wands in time — one of Harry's hands fastened over his wasted wrist, forcing the wand tips away; the knuckles of Harry's other hand collided with the side of Black's head and they fell, backward, into the wall — 
Hermione was screaming; Ron was yelling; there was a blinding flash as the wands in Black's hand sent a jet of sparks into the air that missed Harry's face by inches; Harry felt the shrunken arm under his fingers twisting madly, but he clung on, his other hand punching every part of Black it could find. 
But Black's free hand had found Harry's throat 
“No,” he hissed, “I've waited too long —” 
The fingers tightened, Harry choked, his glasses askew. 
Then he saw Hermione's foot swing out of nowhere. Black let go of Harry with a grunt of pain; Ron had thrown himself on Black's wand hand and Harry heard a faint clatter — 
He fought free of the tangle of bodies and saw his own wand rolling across the floor; he threw himself toward it but 
“Argh!” 
Crookshanks had joined the fray; both sets of front claws had sunk themselves deep into Harry's arm; Harry threw him off, but Crookshanks now darted toward Harry's wand — 
“NO YOU DON'T!” roared Harry, and he aimed a kick at Crookshanks that made the cat leap aside, spitting; Harry snatched up his wand and turned — 
“Get out of the way!” he shouted at Ron and Hermione. 
They didn't need telling twice. Hermione, gasping for breath, her lip bleeding, scrambled aside, snatching up her and Ron's wands. Ron crawled to the four-poster and collapsed onto it, panting, his white face now tinged with green, both hands clutching his broken leg. 
Black was sprawled at the bottom of the wall. His thin chest rose and fell rapidly as he watched Harry walking slowly nearer, his wand pointing straight at Black's heart. 
“Going to kill me, Harry?” he whispered. 
Harry stopped right above him, his wand still pointing at Black's chest, looking down at him. A livid bruise was rising around Black's left eye and his nose was bleeding. 
“You killed my parents,” said Harry, his voice shaking slightly, but his wand hand quite steady. 
Black stared up at him out of those sunken eyes. 
“I don't deny it,” he said very quietly. “But if you knew the whole story.” 
“The whole story?” Harry repeated, a furious pounding in his ears. “You sold them to Voldemort. That's all I need to know.” 
“You've got to listen to me,” Black said, and there was a note of urgency in his voice now. “You'll regret it if you don't…You don't understand….” 
“I understand a lot better than you think,” said Harry, and his voice shook more than ever. “You never heard her, did you? My mum…trying to stop Voldemort killing me…and you did that…you did it….” 
Before either of them could say another word, something ginger streaked past Harry; Crookshanks leapt onto Black's chest and settled himself there, right over Black's heart. Black blinked and looked down at the cat. 
“Get off,” he murmured, trying to push Crookshanks off him. 
But Crookshanks sank his claws into Black's robes and wouldn't shift. He turned his ugly, squashed face to Harry and looked up at him with those great yellow eyes. To his right, Hermione gave a dry sob. 
Harry stared down at Black and Crookshanks, his grip tightening on the wand. So what if he had to kill the cat too? It was in league with Black…If it was prepared to die, trying to protect Black, that wasn't Harry's business… If Black wanted to save it, that only proved he cared more for Crookshanks than for Harry's parents…. 
Harry raised the wand. Now was the moment to do it. Now was the moment to avenge his mother and father. He was going to kill Black. He had to kill Black. This was his chance…. 
The seconds lengthened. And still Harry stood frozen there, wand poised, Black staring up at him, Crookshanks on his chest. Ron's ragged breathing came from near the bed; Hermione was quite silent. 
And then came a new sound — 
Muffled footsteps were echoing up through the floor — someone was moving downstairs. 
“WE'RE UP HERE!” Hermione screamed suddenly. “WE'RE UP HERE — SIRIUS BLACK — QUICK!” 
Black made a startled movement that almost dislodged Crookshanks; Harry gripped his wand convulsively — Do it now! said a voice in his head — but the footsteps were thundering up the stairs and Harry still hadn't done it. 
The door of the room burst open in a shower of red sparks and Harry wheeled around as Professor Lupin came hurtling into the room, his face bloodless, his wand raised and ready. His eyes flickered over Ron, lying on the floor, over Hermione, cowering next to the door, to Harry, standing there with his wand covering Black, and then to Black himself, crumpled and bleeding at Harry's feet. 
“Expelliarmus!” Lupin shouted. 
Harry's wand flew once more out of his hand; so did the two Hermione was holding. Lupin caught them all deftly, then moved into the room, staring at Black, who still had Crookshanks lying protectively across his chest. 
Harry stood there, feeling suddenly empty. He hadn't done it. His nerve had failed him. Black was going to be handed back to the Dementors. 
Then Lupin spoke, in a very tense voice. 
“Where is he, Sirius?” 
Harry looked quickly at Lupin. He didn't understand what Lupin meant. Who was Lupin talking about? He turned to look at Black again. 
Black's face was quite expressionless. For a few seconds, he didn't move at all. Then, very slowly, he raised his empty hand and pointed straight at Ron. Mystified, Harry glanced around at Ron, who looked bewildered. 
“But then…” Lupin muttered, staring at Black so intently it seemed he was trying to read his mind, “…why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless” — Lupin's eyes suddenly widened, as though he was seeing something beyond Black, something none of the rest could see, “— unless he was the one…unless you switched… without telling me?” 
Very slowly, his sunken gaze never leaving Lupin's face, Black nodded. 
“Professor,” Harry interrupted loudly, “what's going on —?” 
But he never finished the question, because what he saw made his voice die in his throat. Lupin was lowering his wand, gazing fixed at Black. The Professor walked to Black's side, seized his hand, pulled him to his feet so that Crookshanks fell to the floor, and embraced Black like a brother. 
Harry felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. 
“I DON'T BELIEVE IT!” Hermione screamed. 
Lupin let go of Black and turned to her. She had raised herself off the floor and was pointing at Lupin, wild-eyed. “You — you —” 
“Hermione —” 
“– you and him!” 
“Hermione, calm down —” 
“I didn't tell anyone!” Hermione shrieked. “I've been covering up for you —” 
“Hermione, listen to me, please” Lupin shouted. “I can explain —” 
Harry could feel himself shaking, not with fear, but with a fresh wave of fury. 
“I trusted you,” he shouted at Lupin, his voice wavering, out of control, “and all the time you've been his friend!” 
“You're wrong,” said Lupin. “I haven't been Sirius's friend, but I am now — Let me explain….” 
“NO!” Hermione screamed. “Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too — he's a werewolf!” 
There was a ringing silence. Everyone's eyes were now on Lupin, who looked remarkably calm, though rather pale. 
“Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione,” he said. “Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Harry dead. An odd shiver passed over his face. “But I won't deny that I am a werewolf.” 
Ron made a valiant effort to get up again but fell back with a whimper of pain. Lupin made toward him, looking concerned, but Ron gasped, “Get away from me, werewolf!” 
Lupin stopped dead. Then, with an obvious effort, he turned to Hermione and said, “How long have you known?” 
“Ages,” Hermione whispered. “Since I did Professor Snape's essay…” 
“He'll be delighted,” said Lupin coolly. “He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant… Did you check the lunar chart and realize that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the Boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?” 
“Both,” Hermione said quietly. 
Lupin forced a laugh. 
“You're the cleverest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermione.” 
“I'm not,” Hermione whispered. “If I'd been a bit cleverer, I'd have told everyone what you are!” 
“But they already know,” said Lupin. “At least, the staff do.” 
“Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf,” Ron gasped. “Is he mad?” 
“Some of the staff thought so,” said Lupin. “He had to work very hard to convince certain teachers that I'm trustworthy —” 
“AND HE WAS WRONG!” Harry yelled. “YOU'VE BEEN HELPING HIM ALL THE TIME!” He was pointing at Black, who suddenly crossed to the four-poster bed and sank onto it, his face hidden in one shaking hand. Crookshanks leapt up beside him and stepped onto his lap, purring. Ron edged away from both of them, dragging his leg. 
“I have not been helping Sirius,” said Lupin. “If you'll give me a chance, I'll explain. Look —” 
He separated Harry's, Ron's and Hermione's wands and threw each back to its owner; Harry caught his, stunned. 
“There,” said Lupin, sticking his own wand back into his belt “You're armed, we're not. Now will you listen?” 
Harry didn't know what to think. Was it a trick? 
“If you haven't been helping him,” he said, with a furious glance at Black, “how did you know he was here?” 
“The map,” said Lupin. “The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it —” 
“You know how to work it?” Harry said suspiciously. 
“Of course I know how to work it,” said Lupin, waving his hand impatiently. “I helped write it. I'm Moony — that was my friends’ nickname for me at school.” 
“You wrote —?” 
“The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you, Ron, and Hermione might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his Hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn't I?” 
He had started to pace up and down, looking at them. Little patches of dust rose at his feet. 
“You might have been wearing your father's old cloak, Harry—” 
“How d'you know about the cloak?” 
“The number of times I saw James disappearing under it…” said Lupin, waving an impatient hand again. “The point is, even if you're wearing an Invisibility Cloak, you still show up on the Marauder's Map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid's hut. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid, and set off back toward the castle. But you were now accompanied by somebody else.” 
“What?” said Harry. “No, we weren't!” 
I couldn't believe my eyes,’ said Lupin, still pacing, and ignoring Harry's interruption. “I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?” 
“No one was with us!” said Harry. 
“And then I saw another dot, moving fast toward you, labeled Sirius Black…I saw him collide with you; I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow —” 
“One of us!” Ron said angrily. 
“No, Ron,” said Lupin. “Two of you.” 
He had stopped his pacing, his eyes moving over Ron. 
“Do you think I could have a look at the rat?” he said evenly. 
“What?” said Ron. “What's Scabbers got to do with it?” 
“Everything,” said Lupin. “Could I see him, please?” 
Ron hesitated, then put a hand inside his robes. Scabbers emerged, thrashing desperately; Ron had to seize his long bald tail to stop him escaping. Crookshanks stood up on Black's leg and made a soft hissing noise. 
Lupin moved closer to Ron. He seemed to be holding his breath as he gazed intently at Scabbers. 
“What?” Ron said again, holding Scabbers close to him, looking scared. “What's my rat got to do with anything?” 
“That's not a rat,” croaked Sirius Black suddenly. 
“What d'you mean — of course he's a rat —” 
“No, he's not,” said Lupin quietly. “He's a wizard.” 
“An Animagus,” said Black, “by the name of Peter Pettigrew.” 
哈利的心也很震惊。他们三个恐惧地站在隐身斗篷下面手足无措。太阳落下前散发出红色的光芒照在阴影密布的大地上。接着他们的后面响起了粗野的声音。 
　　“哈格力——”哈利喃喃的说，毫无考虑他的行动，他突然猛地转过身去，但罗恩和荷米恩都抓住了他的胳膊。 
　　“不，不能这样，”脸色煞白的罗恩说，“他们如果知道我们去看了他的话，他会更糟糕……” 
　　荷米恩的呼吸变得短促而不平静。 
　　“他们怎能这样严她震惊地说，”怎么能够？“ 
　　“到这儿来。”罗恩紧咬着牙关说。 
　　他们向城堡走回去，在大衣下面，为了不让人看见，他们走得很慢。光线很快消失了。当他们到达操场的时候，黑暗像魔法般降临了。 
　　“斯卡伯斯，保持安静。”罗恩把手压在胸前小声地说。老鼠在疯狂地扭动着。 
　　罗恩忽然停下来，用力把斯卡伯斯塞入口袋深处。“发生了什么事，你这个愚蠢的老鼠？安静地待着，哎哟！它咬了我！” 
　　“罗恩，安静！”荷米恩着急地说，“法治马上就要到这儿来了”它不肯停下来……“斯卡伯斯烦人地闹着。它用尽全力扭动想逃脱罗恩的掌握。 
　　“他有什么问题？” 
　　但哈利刚刚发现——克路殊克慢慢地滑向他们，它的身体贴近地面，黄色的大眼睛在黑暗中闪闪发光，一边是斯卡伯斯尖叫的声音，但哈利分辨不出来。 
　　“克路殊克！”荷米恩呻吟着说，“不，走开，克路殊克，走开！” 
　　但猫还是走了过来——“斯卡伯斯——不！” 
　　太晚了，老鼠已经从罗恩的手指中间溜了出去，掉在地上然后逃跑了。克路殊克在它后面追击，在哈利和荷米恩来不及阻止的情况下，罗恩已经扔掉了隐身斗篷消失在黑暗之中。 
　　“罗恩！”荷米恩低声叫着。 
　　她和哈利对视了一下，跟着跑了过去，但在斗篷的下面是不可能全速前进的，他们把它拉下来像旗子一样在空中飘着。他们追在罗恩的后面，可以听到他的脚步声和对猫大喊的声音。 
　　“离开他，离开，斯卡伯斯，过来——” 
　　突然响起了巨大的震动。 
　　“克路殊克！走开，你这个恶心的臭猫——” 
　　哈利和荷米恩几乎被绊倒在罗恩身上，他们停在罗恩的前面。 
　　罗恩在地上爬行，而斯卡伯斯回到了他的口袋里，他的双手护住鼓起的地方。 
　　“罗恩——过来——到斗篷下面来——”荷米恩着急地说，“丹伯多——院长——他们在一分钟之内会回来。” 
　　但是在他们盖住他们自己之前甚至还没来得及喘口气，他们就听到了一个巨大爪子落地的声音。一只灰眼睛的黑狗在黑暗中向他们走来。 
　　哈利还没来得及去抓他的魔杖。狗已经大步走过来并用前爪搭在他的胸口上。 
　　它向后翻了一个跟头，他感觉到了它的呼吸，也看到了它一英寸长的牙齿——但是它一跃的力量使它跳得很远，它在他上面翻滚着，他头眩晕了，感到肋骨像断了一样，也听到了它的咆哮，它后退了几步准备再一次攻击。 
　　罗恩站起来。当狗背对他时，他把哈利推向了一边，狗嘴则紧紧地咬住了罗恩伸出的胳膊。哈利跳起来抓住了它头上的一把硬毛，但它拖拉罗恩就像拖拉一个玩具一样——接着，不知从什么地方，哈利的脸上受到重重一击以至于他再一次倒在地上。他听到荷米恩也被打倒了。哈利摸索着找他的魔杖，罗恩的双腿开始流血了——“天啊！”他低声说道。 
　　魔杖的光芒告诉他这是一个很大的树洞。他们曾经追逐斯卡伯斯到了一棵胡宾柳树的影子下面。而且虽然风很大但枝条却没有摆动。 
　　在那儿，在木箱的底下，那条狗正在把罗恩拖向树根部的一个空隙——罗恩正在作垂死的挣扎，但他的头却一点点滑向缝隙——“罗恩！”哈利大叫着跟上去，但一条粗大的柳枝重重地打在他的身上以至于他被迫后退了几步。 
　　他们现在都看到罗恩正奋力地用脚勾住一个树根以阻止那狗把他拖进去。然后一个枪一样响的声音响起，罗恩的腿断了，接着他消失了。 
　　“哈利……我们快去帮忙……”荷米恩叫道，她也在流血，她的肩膀被柳条割破了。 
　　“不！那家伙大得足以吃掉他，我们没时间了——” 
　　“没有帮助我们过不去的——” 
　　另一根柳条向他们抽来，灵活得如同手指一样。 
　　“如果那只狗能进入，我们也能过去。”哈利着急地说，他四处刺探，努力寻找穿过邪恶的错综复杂的柳枝。但是在柳枝的范围以外却不能接近树根一寸。 
　　“噢，救命，救命。”荷米恩着急地小声说，她不情愿地跳动着，“求求你了。” 
　　克路殊克猛地向前冲去。它灵巧地穿过柳条空隙像蛇一样把前爪放在木箱上。 
　　突然，柳条像大理石一般停止了挥动。连一片叶子都没有动。 
　　“克路殊克！”荷米恩不确定地低声说，她痛苦地抓住哈利的胳膊，“他怎么知道？” 
　　“他是那只狗的朋友，”哈利阴狠地笑着，“我看到过他们在一起，过来——把魔杖伸出去——” 
　　他们在几秒钟就到了箱子前，但还没有来得及去摸箱子，克路殊克已经尾巴竖直地掉了下去。哈利跟着跳了下去，他朝前爬了几步，接着滑到了底部的一个土坡下面的管子里。克路殊克在几米外的地方，它的眼睛在哈利的魔杖下闪闪发光，几秒钟后哈利跟在它的后面。 
　　“罗恩在哪？”她用恐惧的声音低声问道。 
　　“这里！”哈利说着弯下腰向荷米恩和克路殊克走去。 
　　“这个管子会通到哪里呢？”荷米恩在他后面气喘吁吁地说。 
　　“我不知道……它标在掠夺者地图上，但弗来德和乔治说没有人到过那儿。它在地图的边缘消失了，但好像在霍格马得结束了。” 
　　他们尽力走得很快，腰也弯得很低。克路殊克的尾巴在前面时隐时现。在过道里走就像在蜂窝里一样。哈利心中所想的一切都是罗恩，以及那只大狗将会对他做些什么——他痛苦地喘着气蹲着跑随后的地洞开始上升了，过了一会，一个急转弯，克路殊克消失了。哈利看到前面有微弱的灯光。 
　　他和荷米恩停下来喘了口气以便继续前进。他们都举起了魔杖去看前面发生了什么事。 
　　这是一个落满灰尘的杂乱的房；司。墙上贴着纸，地上满是污点。 
　　所有的家俱像是被人故意砸碎那样破烂不堪。窗户都被板子封了起来。 
　　哈利看了一眼看起来很怕但却很坚定的荷米恩。 
　　哈利从洞口爬出来，向四周看了一下。这房子好像被遗弃了。 
　　而门却打开着，通向昏暗的大厅走廊。荷米思突然又抓住了哈利的胳膊，她的大眼睛在巡视着封闭的窗户。 
　　“哈利，”她低声说，“我想我们在什拉克。刹克。” 
　　哈利向四周看了看，他的目光落在离他们最近的木质椅子上。 
　　大块的椅面被弄了下来，其中的一条腿被完全地扳了下来。 
　　“鬼怪不会这么做。”他缓慢地说。 
　　就在此时，有声音从上面传下来。有东西走上楼去。他们两个都看着屋顶。荷米恩把哈利的胳搏抓得那么紧，以致于她的手指失去了知觉。他看了看她，她点头同意并示意让他去。 
　　他们安静地走出大厅，走上了破碎的楼梯。每一样东西都落满了厚厚的一层灰尘，只有地板上一条不知什么东西施行过的条纹上没有灰尘。 
　　他们走到黑暗的地方。 
　　“N.O.X。”他们一起低声说，光从他们的魔杖顶端发了出来。只有一扇门是开着的，当他们转向它时，忽然听到里面有声音。一声轻微的呻吟后接着是呜呜声。 
　　他们互相看了一眼，最后一点头。 
　　哈利紧紧地把魔杖举在前面踢开了门。 
　　在一张巨大的、挂有蚊帐及各种赃物的床上，克路殊克躺在上面，看到他们后呜呜地叫着。地板上躺在它身边的罗恩伸开腿摆出一个特殊的姿势。 
　　哈利和荷米恩冲上去。 
　　“罗恩——你好吗？” 
　　“那只狗呢？” 
　　“不是狗，”罗恩呻吟着说，他的牙齿上下抖动，“哈利，那是个陷阱——” 
　　“什么——” 
　　“他是一条狗……他是由人变成的动物……” 
　　罗恩正盯着哈利的肩膀。哈利转过身来，随着一个响动，那个人在后面关上了门。 
　　他十分赃。头发垂到了眼那儿。如果不是眼光在动，他简直就是一具僵尸。蜡质的皮肤紧紧地包在骨头上，看上去像一个骷髅。 
　　他的黄牙露在嘴唇外面。他是西里斯。巴拉克。 
　　“伊斯彼特华朗！”他用罗思的魔杖指着他们粗着嗓门说。 
　　哈利和荷米恩也用自己的魔杖指着他，但巴拉克抓住了他们。 
　　然后他走近了一步，盯着哈利。 
　　“我知道你们来是为了帮助你们的朋友。”他粗鲁的说，他的声音就好像他很久没有说过话了，“你父亲也会为我做同样的事。你很勇敢，不会跟在老师后面。 
　　我很高兴……那将使许多事变得容易。“ 
　　对哈利父亲的侮辱使哈利很难受，虽然巴拉克曾经夸耀过。汹涌的怒气在哈利的胸中升起，他不再害怕了。他有生以来第一次希望夺回魔杖不是为了自卫而是为了攻击，为了杀人。他不知道做了些什么，他向前走了几步，但突然感到每一边都好像有一双手抓住他拖他回来。“不，哈利！”荷米恩抓住他并轻声对他说，而罗恩则在对巴拉克说话。 
　　“如果你想杀哈利，你得先杀了我们！”罗恩恶狠狠地说，虽然费力站起使他很疲倦，并且说话的时候还有一点摇晃。 
　　有什么东西在巴拉克的眼里闪动着。 
　　“躺下吧！”他平静地对罗恩说，“你会使你的腿受伤更重。” 
　　“你听到了吗？”虽然罗恩虚弱的靠着哈利以保持直立，但还是坚决地说，“你必须把我们三个全部杀死！” 
　　“今天晚上只有一次谋杀。”他的嘴唇张开了。 
　　“那是为什么？”哈利努力地离开罗恩和荷米恩说，“不记得上一次了？别忘了为杀彼德吉雷丽屠杀的马格斯……发生了什么事，为什么在阿兹克班这么自在？” 
　　“哈利，”荷米恩急切地说，“安静一点！” 
　　“他杀了我的爸爸、妈妈！”哈利用尽全力摆脱罗恩和荷米恩的控制，向前走了几步呜咽着说。 
　　他已经忘记了魔力——他忘记了他个子矮小，并且只有十三岁。 
　　而巴拉克却是一个高大的、十分成熟的人。哈利所想做的一切就是用尽全力击伤巴拉克而不顾自己会受到怎样重的伤害。 
　　也许是震惊于哈利做这件傻事的勇气，巴拉克没有举起魔杖。 
　　哈利的一只手迅速抓住了巴拉克的手腕，强迫他放弃魔杖。另一只手撞在巴拉克的头上，并一起倒下撞在墙上。 
　　荷米恩尖叫起来，罗恩也大叫。当魔杖从巴拉克的手中落下的时候闪出了一团火花，使人看不清东西。魔杖擦着哈利的脸而过，哈利摸索着巴拉克的所在。 
　　但巴拉克闲着的一只手已经摸到了哈利的喉咙。 
　　“不，”他嘶哑着说，“我已经等了很久了……” 
　　随着手指的紧缩，哈利开始抽咽，他的眼镜斜挂在脸上。 
　　他看到荷米恩的腿在乱踢。巴拉克放开了哈利时，哈利十分疼痛。罗恩已经向巴拉克的魔杖冲去。而哈利听到了轻微的卡哒声——他稳了一下心神并看到在地上的他的魔杖，他向它扑过去——克路殊克也加入了战团，它的两爪向哈利的胳搏抓去，哈利急忙闪开，克路殊克向哈利的魔杖冲去——“不，不要！”哈利咆哮着说，瞄准克路殊克一脚把它踢开。哈利抓起了他的魔杖，转过身来——“别挡着我！” 
　　他冲着罗恩和荷米恩喊道。 
　　他们不用再说第二次。荷米恩端着气，她的嘴唇在流血。荷米恩爬向了一边抓住了她和罗恩的魔杖。罗恩爬向带蚊帐的床并倒在上面，他苍白的脸变成了绿色，两手抓住了他的伤腿。 
　　巴拉克在墙脚下爬着，他的胸部剧烈地起伏着。他看着魔杖指着他的心脏慢慢地靠近。 
　　“你要杀我吗，哈利？”他低声问。 
　　哈利在他的上方停了下来，但仍用魔杖指着他的胸部，向下看着他。一块青肿血斑挂在巴拉克左眼上北的鼻子在流血。 
　　“你杀了我父母。”哈利的声音颤抖着，但拿魔杖的手却很平静。 
　　巴拉克用他那深陷的眼睛盯着哈利。 
　　“我不否认。”他十分平静地说，“但如果你知道整个故事……” 
　　“整个故事？”哈利重复着说，狂怒的声音冲击着他的耳朵，“你向福尔得摩特出卖了他们，这就是我所知道的全部。” 
　　“你应该听我说，”巴拉充说，接着又一个突然的声音在耳边响起，“如果你不……你不弄明白，你会后悔的。” 
　　“我比你想的更明白。”他的声音科得更厉害了，你从没听说过她，是吗？我妈妈……极力阻止福尔得摩特杀害我……那是你做的……是你做的。 
　　在他们每个人说话之前，难以估量的东西在哈利脸上闪过。克路殊克跳到巴拉克的胸上停下来，刚好在巴拉克的心脏上面。巴拉克向下看了看猫。 
　　“走开。”他喃喃地说，并努力把克路殊克推走。 
　　但克路殊党用那爪子抓住巴拉克的长袍不肯离开。他转过他那丑陋的变形的脸用那大大的黄色眼睛望着他。 
　　哈利向下看着巴拉克和克路殊克，更紧紧地抓住了魔杖。那么也杀死这只猫吗？ 
　　它伴随着巴拉克……如果它准备去以死来保卫巴拉克……那不关哈利的事……如果巴拉克想救它，那只能说明他比关心他父母更关心克路殊克…… 
　　哈利举起了魔杖。是的，是做这件事的时候了。是为了他父母报仇的时候了。 
　　他要杀死巴拉克，他必须杀了巴拉克。这是他的机会……“第二次凝聚力量，哈利仍凝团般地站在那儿，魔杖指着，巴拉克盯着他，克路殊克在他的胸部。罗恩在近处床上痛苦地喘着气。而荷米恩则十分平静。 
　　接着又传来一个声音——沉闷的脚步声透过地板传过来——有人在楼下走动。 
　　“我们在这儿！”荷米恩尖叫起来，“我们在这儿——抓住巴拉克——快点！” 
　　巴拉克做了一个慌张的动作差点把克路殊克弄掉下来。哈利抓着魔杖自问，现在做吗？一个声音在耳边响起——当脚步声在楼梯上响起的时候，哈利仍然没有做。 
　　门被突然打开。一个红色的火花闪现出来。哈利转身一看，露平教授出现在屋子里。他的脸上毫无血色，他的魔杖已经准备好了。 
　　他的眼睛在躺在床上的罗恩，站在另一个门那儿的荷米恩和站着用魔杖指着巴拉克的哈利身上闪烁不定，他看了看地上的巴拉克和哈利不断流血的脚。 
　　“伊斯彼特华朗！”露平大声叫道。 
　　哈利的魔杖从手中又一次飞了出去，荷米恩拿着的两根也一样。 
　　露平把它们全部抓在手里，走进屋子，然后盯着巴拉克和仍旧趴在他身上保护他的克路殊克。 
　　哈利站在那儿觉得极度的无助，而且感到极度痛苦。巴拉克将会被移交给得蒙特。 
　　接着露平说话了，用了一种十分奇怪的语调，一种压迫人的感情的语调，“他在哪儿，西里斯？” 
　　哈利飞快地看了露平一眼。他不明白露平说的话。露平谈论的是谁？他回头再一次看着巴拉克。 
　　巴拉克的脸上毫无表情。两秒钟内他根本无法移动。接着他举起空空如也的手掌指向罗恩。哈利看了一眼迷惑不解的罗恩。 
　　“但是后来……”露平看着巴拉克努力想明白他表情的含义时急切的说，“… 
　　…那他为什么到现在还没现身？除非——“露平的眼突然睁大了，好像看到巴拉克的一切不可告人的事。”除非他是那个人……除非你扭转……没有告诉我？“ 
　　巴拉克深陷的眼珠再也不离开露平的脸，他十分缓慢的点了点头。 
　　“露平教授，”哈利大声的插入说，“发生了什么事——？” 
　　但他永远不会完成这个问题了，因为他所看到的事使他把话又咽了回去。露平放下了他的魔杖。过了一会儿，他已经走到巴拉克的身边，抓住他的手，把他拉到腿上让克路殊克跳到地上，并把巴拉克紧紧的抱在怀里就象兄弟一般。 
　　哈利心里像翻了十五个醋瓶似的十分难受。 
　　“我不相信！”荷米恩尖叫着说。 
　　露平放下巴拉克转向她。她已经站在了地板上，睁大眼睛指着露平说，“你——你——” 
　　“荷米恩——” 
　　“——你和她！” 
　　“荷米恩安静下来——” 
　　“我没有告诉任何人！”荷米恩着急地说，“我一直在替你保密——” 
　　“荷米恩，请听我说！”露平大声说，“我来解释……” 
　　哈利能感受到自己的颤抖，不是因为害怕，而是因为愤怒。 
　　“我相信你，”他大声向露平说道，他的声音失控了，“而你一直是他的朋友！” 
　　“你错了，”露平说，“我已经十二年不是西里斯的朋友了，但现在我是了… 
　　…让我来解释……“ 
　　“不！”荷米恩尖叫着说，“哈利，别相信他，他帮助巴拉克进入城堡，他也想让你死——他是一个可以变成狼的人！” 
　　一片沉默。每个人都看着露平，他出人意料的平静，虽然他的脸色苍白。 
　　“根本不是你说的那样，荷米恩，”他说，“恐怕这三个当中只有一个是正确的。我没有帮助西里斯进入城堡，并且我显然不想让哈利死……”一个寒战掠上了他的脸庞，“但我不否认我是个人狼。” 
　　罗恩又作了一次无谓的努力想站起来，但又因疼痛而趴倒了。 
　　露平向他走去关心地看着，但罗恩喘着气说，“离开我这儿，你这个人狼！” 
　　“几年前，”荷米恩低声说，“自从我读了史纳皮教授的论文……” 
　　“他会很高兴的，”露平冷冷的说，“他写了那篇论文希望有人能够解除我的症状的含义。你曾经看过日历并认识到每到月圆我就会病的事吗？或者你认识到布格特看到我时会变成月亮吗？” 
　　“全都意识到了。”荷米恩平静的说。 
　　露平大笑起来。 
　　“你是我所遇到的你这个年龄中最聪明的女巫，荷米恩。” 
　　“不，我不是，”荷米恩低声说，“如果我再聪明一点，我会已经把你是什么告诉了别人。” 
　　“但，他们已经知道了。”露平说，“至少，职员都知道。” 
　　“丹伯多在知道你是人狼的情况下雇佣了你？”罗恩喘着气问，“他疯了吗？” 
　　“有的职员这么认为，”露平说，“他费了很大力气向老师们证明我是值得信任的——” 
　　“但是他错了！”哈利大声叫着说，“你每时每刻都在帮助他！”他指着巴拉克，他此时已穿过大厅躺在床上，用一只手遮住了脸。克路殊克在他身边跳跃着，跳在他的大腿上。罗恩拖着伤腿离开了他们。 
　　“我没有帮助西里斯，”露平说，“如果你们给我时间我会解释给你们，看——” 
　　他分别把哈利、罗恩和荷米恩的魔杖还给他们，哈利高兴地抓过来。 
　　“现在，”露平把他自己的魔杖放回带子上，“你们有了武器而找没有，你们愿意听吗？” 
　　哈利不知如何去想。这是个计谋吗？ 
　　“如果你没有帮助他，”他愤怒地指着巴拉克说，“你怎么知道他在这儿？” 
　　“地图。”露平说，“地图。我正在我的办公室里检查它——” 
　　“你知道怎样使用它？”哈利奇怪地问。 
　　“我当然知道怎样用它，”露手挥动着手不耐烦地说，“是我帮忙做出了它。 
　　我是莫妮——这是我的朋友在学校时送给我的外号。“ 
　　“你制作——？” 
　　“重要的是我今天晚上观察它的时候，对你有一点想法。我估计在判决河马鹿之前，你、罗恩和荷米恩将会到城堡外面去访问哈格力。我说对了，对不对？” 
　　他开始来回走动，看着他们，小片的灰尘在他脚下飞扬起来。 
　　“你可能穿着你父亲的隐身斗篷，哈利——” 
　　“你怎么知道那件隐身斗篷？” 
　　“我看到过好几次杰姆斯从下面消失……”露平又一次不耐烦地挥了挥手说，“关键是即使你穿上了隐身斗篷也可以在掠夺者地图中被看到。我看见你进入了操场，并进入了哈格力的小木屋。二十分钟后，你们离开哈格力返回城堡，但现在你们被别人跟踪着。” 
　　“什么？”哈利说，“没有，绝对没有！” 
　　“我不相信自己的眼睛。”露平无视哈利的打断仍在跟着步说，“我以为地图出了毛病。他怎么能跟着你？” 
　　“没有人跟着我们！”哈利说。 
　　“接着我发现另一个点飞快地向你跑去，是西里斯。巴拉克…… 
　　我看他们和你撞在一起，我看到他拖你们两个进入胡宾柳树——－“”其中的一个！“罗恩愤怒地说。 
　　“不，罗恩，”露平说，“你们两个。” 
　　他停止了踱步，他看着罗恩。 
　　“你是否可以让我看看你的老鼠？”他平静地说。 
　　“什么？”罗恩说，“斯卡伯斯和这件事有什么关系吗？” 
　　“所有的事都有关，”露平说，“我能看看吗？” 
　　罗恩犹豫了，随后把手伸进了长袍。斯卡帕斯被拿出来，它惊恐地尖叫着。罗恩只好抓住他的秃头让他保持安静并防止它逃跑。克路殊克从巴拉克的大腿上站起来轻轻地叫了一声。 
　　露平走得离罗恩更近了一步。当他抓住斯卡伯斯的时候，他仿佛屏住了呼吸。 
　　“干什么？”罗恩把斯卡伯斯抓回来好像很害怕地问，“这关我的老鼠什么事？” 
　　“这不是只老鼠！”西里斯。巴拉克突然呻吟着说。 
　　“你什么意思——他当然是只老鼠——” 
　　“不，他不是，”露平平静地说，“他是一个巫师。” 
　　“一个由人变成的动物，”巴拉克说，“他的名字是彼得。彼德吉雷。” 
Chapter 18 Moony,Wormtail,Padfoot,and Prongs
It took a few seconds for the absurdity of this statement to sink in. Then Ron voiced what Harry was thinking. 
“You're both mental.” 
“Ridiculous!” said Hermione faintly. 
“Peter Pettigrew's dead!” said Harry. “He killed him twelve years ago!” He pointed at Black, whose face twitched convulsively. 
“I meant to,” he growled, his yellow teeth bared, “but little Peter got the better of me…not this time, though!” 
And Crookshanks was thrown to the floor as Black lunged at Scabbers; Ron yelled with pain as Black's weight fell on his broken leg. 
“Sirius, NO!” Lupin yelled, launching himself forwards and dragging Black away from Ron again, “WAIT! You can't do it just like that — they need to understand — we've got to explain —” 
“We can explain afterwards!” snarled Black, trying to throw Lupin off. One hand was still clawing the air as it tried to reach Scabbers, who was squealing like a piglet, scratching Ron's face and neck as he tried to escape. 
“They've — got — a — right — to — know — everything!” Lupin panted, still trying to restrain Black. “Ron's kept him as a pet! There are parts of it even I don't understand, and Harry — you owe Harry the truth, Sirius!” 
Black stopped struggling, though his hollowed eyes were still fixed on Scabbers, who was clamped tightly under Ron's bitten, scratched, and bleeding hands. 
“All right, then,” Black said, without taking his eyes off the rat. 
“Tell them whatever you like. But make it quick, Remus. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for…” 
“You're nutters, both of you,” said Ron shakily, looking round at Harry and Hermione for support. “I've had enough of this. I'm off.” 
He tried to heave himself up on his good leg, but Lupin raised his wand again, pointing it at Scabbers. 
“You're going to hear me out, Ron,” he said quietly. “Just keep a tight hold on Peter while you listen.” 
“HE'S NOT PETER, HE'S SCABBERS!” Ron yelled, trying to force the rat back into his front pocket, but Scabbers was fighting too hard; Ron swayed and overbalanced, and Harry caught him am pushed him back down to the bed. Then, ignoring Black, Harry turned to Lupin. 
“There were witnesses who saw Pettigrew die,” he said. “A whole street full of them…” 
“They didn't see what they thought they saw!” said Black savagely, still watching Scabbers struggling in Ron's hands. 
“Everyone thought Sirius killed Peter,” said Lupin, nodding. “I believed it myself — until I saw the map tonight. Because the Marauder's map never lies…Peter's alive. Ron's holding him, Harry.” 
Harry looked down at Ron, and as their eyes met, they agreed, silently: Black and Lupin were both out of their minds. Their story made no sense whatsoever. How could Scabbers be Peter Pettigrew? Azkaban must have unhinged Black after all — but why was Lupin playing along with him? 
Then Hermione spoke, in a trembling, would-be calm sort of voice, as though trying to will Professor Lupin to talk sensibly. 
“But Professor Lupin…Scabbers can't be Pettigrew…it just can't be true, you know it can't…” 
“Why can't it be true?” Lupin said calmly, as though they were in class, and Hermione had simply spotted a problem in an experiment with Grindylows. 
“Because… because people would know if Peter Pettigrew had been an Animagus. We did Animagi in class with Professor McGonagall. And I looked them up when I did my homework — the Ministry of Magic keeps tabs on witches and wizards who can become animals; there's a register showing what animal they become, and their markings and things…and I went and looked Professor McGonagall up on the register, and there have been only seven Animagi this century, and Pettigrew's name wasn't on the list.” 
Harry had barely had time to marvel inwardly at the effort Hermione put into her homework, when Lupin started to laugh. 
“Right again, Hermione!” he said. “But the Ministry never knew that here used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts.” 
“If you're going to tell them the story, get a move on, Remus,” said Black, who was still watching Scabbers's every desperate move. “I've waited twelve years, I'm not going to wait much longer.” 
“All right…but you'll need to help me, Sirius,” said Lupin, “I only know how it began…” 
Lupin broke off. There had been a loud creak behind him. The bedroom door had opened of its own accord. All five of them stared at it. Then Lupin strode toward it and looked out into the landing. 
“No one there…” 
“This place is haunted!” said Ron. 
“It's not,’ said Lupin, still looking at the door in a puzzled way. “The Shrieking Shack was never haunted…The screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me.” 
He pushed his graying hair out of his eyes, thought for a moment then said, “That's where all of this starts — with my becoming a werewolf, None of this could have happened if I hadn't been bitter…and if I hadn't been so foolhardy…” 
He looked sober and tired. Ron started to interrupt, but Hermione, said, “Shh!” She was watching Lupin very intently. 
“I as a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. The potion that Professor Snape has been making for me is a very recent discovery. It makes me safe, you see. As long as I take it in the week, preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform…I'm able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again. 
“Before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I became a fully fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me. 
“But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to school….” Lupin sighed, and looked directly at Harry. “I told you, months ago, that the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. The truth is that it was planted because I came to Hogwarts. This house” — Lupin looked miserably around the room, — “the tunnel that leads to it — they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous.” 
Harry couldn't see where this story was going, but he was listening raptly all the same. The only sound apart from Lupin's voice was Scabbers's frightened squeaking. 
“My transformations in those days were — were terrible. It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumor…Even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it….” 
“But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black…Peter Pettigrew…and, of course, your father, Harry — James Potter.” 
“Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her…I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you, Hermione, worked out the truth….” 
“And they didn't desert me at all. Instead, they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi.” 
“My dad too?” said Harry, astounded. 
“Yes, indeed,” said Lupin. “It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong — one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it. Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will.” 
“But how did that help you?” said Hermione, sounding puzzled. 
“They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals,” said Lupin. “A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out of the castle every month under James's Invisibility Cloak. They transformed…Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them.” 
“Hurry up, Remus,” snarled Black, who was still watching Scabbers with a horrible sort of hunger on his face. 
“I'm getting there, Sirius, I'm getting there…well, highly exciting possibilities were open to us now that we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did… And that's how we came to write the Marauder's Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs.” 
“What sort of animal —?” Harry began, but Hermione cut him off. “That was still really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you'd given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?” 
“A thought that still haunts me,” said Lupin heavily. “And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless — carried away with our own cleverness.” 
“I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore's trust, of course…he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others’ safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month's adventure. And I haven't changed…” 
Lupin's face had hardened, and there was self-disgust in his voice. “All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn't do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I'd betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I'd led others along with me…and Dumbledore's trust has meant everything to me. He let me into Hogwarts as a boy, and he gave me a job when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am. And so I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using dark arts he learned from Voldemort, that being an Animagus had nothing to do with it…so, in a way, Snape's been right about me all along.” 
“Snape?” said Black harshly, taking his eyes off Scabbers; for the first time in minutes and looking up at Lupin. “What's Snape got to do with it?” 
“He's here, Sirius,” said Lupin heavily. “He's teaching here as well.” He looked up at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. 
“Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons…you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me —” 
Black made a derisive noise. 
“It served him right,” he sneered. “Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to…hoping he could get us expelled.…” 
“Severus was very interested in where I went every month.” Lupin told Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “We were in the same year, you know, and we — er — didn't like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James's talent on the Quidditch field…anyway Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be — er — amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it — if he'd got as far as this house, he'd have met a fully grown werewolf — but your father, who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life…Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was.…” 
“So that's why Snape doesn't like you,” said Harry slowly, “because he thought you were in on the joke?” 
“That's right,” sneered a cold voice from the wall behind Lupin. 
Severus Snape was pulling off the Invisibility Cloak, his wand pointing directly at Lupin. 
几秒钟之后，这荒唐的气氛才逐渐消失。然后，罗恩说出了哈利的想法。 
　　“你们两个真是神经有病。” 
　　“荒唐！”荷米恩微弱地说。 
　　“彼得。彼德吉雷死了，”哈利说，“他在十二年前就已经杀死了他了。” 
　　他指着巴拉克，巴拉克的脸抽搐着。 
　　“我是说，”他呲着牙，露出了满口黄牙，“但是小彼得赢过了我，虽然，这一次并没有。” 
　　当巴拉克刺向斯卡伯斯时，克路殊克倒在了地上。罗恩痛苦地尖叫着，当巴拉克压在他的断腿上时。 
　　“西里斯，不要！”露平喊到，他向前冲去，将巴拉克拖离罗恩，“等一下，你不能这样做，他们想弄明白这一切，我们应当解释。” 
　　“我们可以以后再解释，”巴拉克号叫着，想要挣脱露平。一只手仍然在空中抓挠，企图抓住斯卡伯斯，斯卡伯斯像只小猪似的尖叫着，抓着罗恩的脸和脖子，想要逃脱。 
　　“他们有权知道这一切”露平喘着气说，仍然试图阻止巴拉克。 
　　“罗恩把它当作宠物养着。这里有些甚至连我也不明白，你欠哈利一个真相，西里斯！” 
　　巴拉克停止了挣扎，但是他那空洞的眼睛仍然盯向斯卡伯斯，斯卡伯斯波罗恩抱得紧紧的，他的手被抓烂了，血直往下流。 
　　“那么，好吧！”巴拉克说，并没有将自己的目光转离那只老鼠，“告诉他们你所要讲的，要快，雷马斯。我就要实施可能会带来牢狱之灾的谋杀了。” 
　　“你们两个疯子。”罗恩颤抖着说，他看向哈利和荷米恩，以寻求支持，“我已经受够了，我要离开。” 
　　他试着靠那条好腿站起来，但是露平再一次将魔杖举起，对准了斯卡伯斯。 
　　“你必须听我讲明白，罗恩，”他静静地说，“当你听我讲话时抓紧彼得，他是斯卡伯斯。”罗恩大叫着，试图迫使那只老鼠重新回到他的口袋里，但是斯卡伯斯拼命地反抗着，罗恩摇晃着，失去了平衡。哈利抓住他并把他推到床上。然后，哈利丢下巴拉克转向露平。 
　　“他们都是看见彼德吉雷死去的证人，”他说，“整整一条街的人。” 
　　“他们并没有看到他们所想象的东西。”巴拉克粗野地喊道，仍然盯着斯卡伯斯在罗恩手中挣扎。 
　　“所有的人都认为是西里斯杀了彼得，”露平点着头说，“一开始我自己也这样认为，直到今晚我看到地图为止。因为掠夺者的地图永远也不会说谎的。彼得还活着，罗恩正拥有它，哈利。” 
　　哈利看问罗恩，当他们的眼睛碰到一起时，他们默认了。巴拉克和露平都糊徐了。他们的故事根本就不合常理。斯卡伯斯怎么会是彼得。彼德吉雷呢？肯定是阿兹克班使巴拉克精神错乱了，可为什么露平也一起和他发疯呢？ 
　　然后荷米恩开口说话了，她尽量使自己的颤抖的声音平缓下来，像是想使露平教授讲话时，能恢复神智。 
　　“但是露平教授，斯卡伯斯不可能是彼德吉雷，这不可能是真的，您知道的… 
　　…“ 
　　“这为什么不可能是真的？”露平平静的说。好像他们正在上课一样，荷米恩问的只不过是在实验中发现了一个小小的问题而已。 
　　“因为，因为如果他们知道彼得。彼德吉雷是一个由人变成的动物，他们就可以知道事实。我们与麦康娜尔博士在课堂上做作业时，我查到了他们。部长已经对能够变成动物的巫婆和巫师做了记录。 
　　有一个登记表已经记录了他们会变成何种动物，以及他们身上的斑点之类的东西。我去看了并在登记表上查到了麦康娜教授。这个世纪，这里有七个恩尼马格。 
　　但是，彼德吉雷的名字并不在登记表上。“哈利内心里简直再无法称赞荷米恩在她作业中所做的努力了。 
　　这时，露平开始大笑起来。 
　　“你是对了，荷米恩！”他说，“但是部长永远不会知道还有三个未登记的由人变成的动物正流窜于霍格瓦彻。” 
　　“如果你想告诉他们这个故事，就直接说吧！雷马斯。”巴拉克嘲笑道。他仍然紧盯着斯卡伯斯的一举一动，“我已经等了十二年了，我再也不想等了。” 
　　“好吧！但是你得帮助我，西里斯，”露平说，“我只知道怎样开始……” 
　　露平突然停了下来，“咯吱”一声巨大的响声从他背后传来。卧室的门自动打开了。他们五个人被吓呆了。然后，露平小心地踱到门口，向外看去。 
　　“没有人……” 
　　“这里在闹鬼！”罗恩喊到。 
　　“不会的。”露平说，仍然迷惑的望着门，“什拉克。刹克永远不会闹鬼，村民们常听到尖叫声和嗥叫声都是我搞出来的。” 
　　他撩开挡在眼前的所发，停了一下，然后说：“这就是所有的开端——我是一个可以变成狼的人。如果我不曾被咬过，或者我不是那么傻，所有的一切都不会发生的。” 
　　他看起来很严肃，也很疲倦。罗恩想阻止他继续说下去，但是荷米恩说：“喂！” 
　　她正在饶有兴致地盯着露平。 
　　“当我还很小的时候，我就被咬了。我的父母为了救我用尽了所有的方法，但在那些日子，这是无法医治的。史纳皮教授给我的药水，是他最近才发明的。这种药水可以确保我的安全，只要我在月圆的前一周服用它。当我变成狼时，我仍可以保 
　　持我的人性，我会缩在我的办公室里，一只毫无危害的狼，等待月亮的再一次消失于天际。“ 
　　“在沃夫斯巴药水发明以前。我到霍格瓦彻去是毫无可能的，其他的父母不可能愿意让他们的孩子与我在一起。 
　　“但是后来丹伯多成了校长，他是一个富有同情心的人。他说只要能够采取一定的预防措施，我并非不能去上学。”露平叹了口气，然后直直的望向哈利，“告诉过你，在几个月之前。胡宾柳树就是在我进霍格瓦初的那一年种下的。事实上，这棵柳树是因为我要来霍格瓦彻才种下的。这个屋子——”露平地看了一眼这间屋子，“——有一个地道通向这里，那是为我而建的。每月一次，我会偷偷地逃出城堡，来到这里，变成狼。这棵树就种在地道口，以防止别人进来碰到我，而发生不测。” 
　　虽然哈利并不十分清楚这个故事，但是他还是全神贯注地聆听着，除了露平讲话的声音，就只有斯卡伯斯不停的尖叫着。 
　　“在那些日子里，我转变的过程是十分可怕的。做一个可以变成狼的人是十分痛苦的，我与人类分开，所以我只能抓挠，撕咬我自己。 
　　村民们听到我的嗥叫声，把它当成是野蛮的精灵发出来的声音。丹伯多助长了这种谣言即使是现在，虽然这间房子已经沉静了好多年，村民们仍然不敢接近它……“”但是除去我变成狼的日子，我是快乐的，快乐过我以前度过的所有的时光，因为第一次我有了朋友，很多的朋友，西里斯。巴拉克，彼得。彼德吉雷，当然，哈利，还有你爸爸——杰姆斯。波特。“ 
　　“现在，我的三个好朋友都已经注意到我每月都会失踪一次。我编造了各种各样的故事，我告诉他们说我妈妈病了，我得回家照顾她……我害怕当他们知道我的事时，他们会抛弃我。但是当然，他们和你一样，荷米恩，发现了事情的真相…… 
　　“但是他们并没有遗弃我，相反他们尽其所能，想出一些办法使我的转变过程变得不但不是无法忍受，而且成为我生命中最美好的时光。他们都变成了恩尼马格。” 
　　“我父亲也一样？”哈利吃惊地问。 
　　“是的，的确如此。”露平说，“他们花费了这三年中大部分时光去寻找解决的方法。你爸爸和西里斯是学校里最聪明的学生，而且幸亏这样，因为由人变成动物的转变过程可能完全超乎控制——这也是部长要严密坚持这些企图的原因。彼得需要杰姆斯和西里斯所能够提供的一切帮助。最后，在第五年，他们成功了，他们可以任意变成不同的动物。” 
　　“但是他们怎样帮助你呢？”荷米思疑惑的问。 
　　“作为人类，他们不能与我呆在一起，但是成为兽类之后，却可以与我成为一伙，”露平说，“一个变成狼的人只对人类有害。每个月，他们都会借助杰姆斯的隐形斗篷偷偷地溜出城堡。他们会进行变形……彼得，作为最小的一个，可以滑到柳树的底下，打开开启的机关。 
　　然后，他们就从地道中爬过来与我会合。在他们的影响下，我变得不再那么危险。我的身体仍然是狼形，而我的头脑已逐渐失去了狼性。“”快点，雷马斯。“巴拉克吼叫着。他仍然盯着斯卡伯斯，满脸令人恐怖的饥饿相。 
　　“我们就快到了，我们就快到了，西里斯令人兴奋地呈现在我们面前，我们可以变形了。不久我们就将离开什拉克。刹克，趁着夜色在学校和村子里到处乱逛了。 
　　西里斯和杰姆斯变成了极其硕大的动物，以至于可以将人狼置于控制之下，我都怀疑是否霍格瓦彻里会有学生能够比我们还知道关于霍格瓦彻的种种传说，这也就是我们为何写了掠夺者的地图并且在上面签上了我们的绰号的缘故。西里斯是彼弗，彼得是温特尔，杰姆斯是拜朗。 
　　“是什么动物？”哈利开口问，但是荷米恩打断了他。 
　　“但这样仍然很危险！黑夜中与一只人狼一起到处乱跑，如果你们咬到别人怎么办？” 
　　“有一个想法至今还困扰着我，”露平沉重地说，“那里住着许多女教师，我们后来拿她们作笑料。那时，我们还年轻，不大懂事——恃才放犷。” 
　　“有时候，我也因背叛了丹伯多的信任而感到内疚……当其它校长都不敢接纳我时，是他允许我进入霍格瓦彻的。那时他并没有想到我会违反他为我及别人的安全所设定的规则。他决不会知道是我导致了三名同学非法地变成了恩尼马格。每次，我都总是尽力使自己摆脱心中的内疚感。我们制定有关下一次历险的计划，我从未改变过……” 
　　露平的脸变得僵硬，声音中充满了对自己的厌恶。“整整这一年，我都在同自己做斗争。我在想是否应当将西里斯由人变成动物的事情告诉给校长。但是我没有，为什么？因为我是个胆小鬼。那将意味着我自己背叛了他的信任，承认是我带领他们与我在一起……并且丹伯多的信任对我来说意味着一切。他使我能够在幼年进入霍格瓦彻，是他给了我一份工作，当我的成年生活一片迷茫的时候，那时候，因为是人狼，我找不到一份可以得到薪水的工作。于是，我使自己相信，西里斯进入霍格瓦彻是由于他在福尔得摩特所学到的邪恶巫术，而他由人变成动物与此无丝毫关系。总之，史纳皮所说的关于我的一切是对的。” 
　　“史纳皮，”巴拉克厉声问道，他暂时将目光离开斯卡伯斯而望向露平，“史纳皮与这有何关系？” 
　　“他在这儿，西里斯，”露平说，“他也在这儿教书。”他望着哈利、罗恩和荷米恩。 
　　“史纳皮教授就在学校，与我们在一起。他曾经强烈反对我就任防黑巫术一职。 
　　那一年他一直在告诉丹伯多说我并不可以信任。他有他的理由，你知道西里斯曾经对他玩恶作剧，几乎要了他的命，当时我也有份儿。“ 
　　巴拉克发出了嘲弄的声音。 
　　“他是活该，”他嘲笑地说，“到处呲牙咧嘴，想要查出我们是什么人，一心要将我们赶出学校。” 
　　“史纳皮对于我每个月都去哪里非常感兴趣，”露平告诉哈利、罗恩和荷米恩，“你们知道的，我们是同一个年级的，并且我们都非常不喜欢对方。他尤其讨厌杰姆斯。我想那是因为妒忌，因为杰姆斯在快迪斯上面所展示的天份……无论如何，一天晚上，他曾见到过波姆弗雷夫人和我穿过空地，当时，我带她到胡宾柳树去变形。西里斯认为如果告诉她只要用一根长棍击一下树干上的树结就可以跟在我后面进入，那将是相当精彩的。当然，西里斯如此这般做了。假如他当时走到离这个屋子足够近的地方他就会遇到一个成熟的人狼。但是你爸爸看到了西里斯所做的一切，在千钧一发的时候，他赶上了史纳皮并把他拉了回去。但是，史纳皮看见了我，就在地道的尽头。尽管他被丹伯多严令禁止将此事外泄，但是从那时起，他就知道了我的秘密。” 
　　“这也就是史纳皮不喜欢你的原因，”哈利缓缓地说，“他认为你来这里只是因为一个笑话而已？” 
　　“不错。”一个冷酷的声音从露平的身后传来。 
　　史纳皮正在脱下他的隐形斗篷，他的魔杖径直指向露平。 
Chapter 19 The Servant Of Lord Voldemort
Hermione screamed. Black leapt to his feet. Harry felt as though he'd received a huge electric shock. 
“I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow,” said Snape, throwing the cloak aside, careful to keep this wand pointing directly at Lupin's chest. “Very useful, Potter, I thank you….” 
Snape was slightly breathless, but his face was full of suppressed triumph. “You're wondering, perhaps, how I knew you were here?” he said, his eyes glittering. “I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did…lucky for me, I mean. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight.” 
“Severus —” Lupin began, but Snape overrode him. 
“I've told the headmaster again and again that you're helping your old friend Black into the castle, Lupin, and here's the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout —” 
“Severus, you're making a mistake,” said Lupin urgently. “You haven't heard everything — I can explain — Sirius is not here to kill Harry —” 
“Two more for Azkaban tonight,” said Snape, his eyes now gleaming fanatically. “I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this…He was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin…a tame werewolf —” 
“You fool,” said Lupin softly. “Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?” 
BANG! Thin, snakelike cords burst from the end of Snape's wand and twisted themselves around Lupin's mouth, wrists, and ankles; he overbalanced and fell to the floor, unable to move. With a roar of rage, Black started toward Snape, but Snape pointed his wand straight between Black's eyes. 
“Give me a reason,” he whispered. “Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will.” 
Black stopped dead. It would have been impossible to say which face showed more hatred. 
Harry stood there, paralyzed, not knowing what to do or whom to believe. He glanced around at Ron and Hermione. Ron looked just as confused as he did, still fighting to keep hold on the struggling Scabbers. Hermione, however, took an uncertain step toward Snape and said, in a very breathless voice, “Professor Snape — it wouldn't hurt to hear what they've got to say, w-would it?” 
“Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school,” Snape spat. “You, Potter, and Weasley are out-of-bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, hold your tongue.” 
“But if — if there was a mistake —” 
“KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!” Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. “DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!” A few sparks shot out of the end of his wand, which was still pointed at Black's face. Hermione fell silent. 
“Vengeance is very sweet,” Snape breathed at Black. “How I hoped I would be the one to catch you….” 
“The joke's on you again, Severus,” Black snarled. “As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle” — he jerked his head at Ron — “I'll come quietly….” 
“Up to the castle?” said Snape silkily. “I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the Dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black…pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay…I —” 
What little color there was in Black's face left it. 
“You -you've got to hear me out,” he croaked. “The rat — look at the rat —” 
But there was a mad glint in Snape's eyes that Harry had never seen before. He seemed beyond reason. 
“Come on, all of you,” he said. He clicked his fingers, and the ends of the cords that bound Lupin flew to his hands. “I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the Dementors will have a kiss for him too —” 
Before he knew what he was doing, Harry had crossed the room in three strides and blocked the door. 
“Get out of the way, Potter, you're in enough trouble already,” snarled Snape. “If I hadn't been here to save your skin —” 
“Professor Lupin could have killed me about a hundred times this year,” Harry said. “I've been alone with him loads of times, having defense lessons against the Dementors. If he was helping Black, why didn't he just finish me off then?” 
“Don't ask me to fathom the way a werewolf's mind works,” hissed Snape. “Get out of the way, Potter.” 
“YOU'RE PATHETIC!” Harry yelled. “JUST BECAUSE THEY MADE A FOOL OF YOU AT SCHOOL YOU WON'T EVEN LISTEN —” 
“SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!” Snape shrieked, looking madder than ever. “Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck; you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he'd killed you! You'd have died like your father, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black — now get out of the way, or I will make you. GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!” 
Harry made up his mind in a split second. Before Snape could take even one step toward him, he had raised his wand. 
“Expelliarmus!” he yelled — except that his wasn't the only voice that shouted. There was a blast that made the door rattle on its hinges; Snape was lifted off his feet and slammed into the wall, then slid down it to the floor, a trickle of blood oozing from under his hair. He had been knocked out. 
Harry looked around. Both Ron and Hermione had tried to disarm Snape at exactly the same moment. Snape's wand soared in a high arc and landed on the bed next to Crookshanks. 
“You shouldn't have done that,” said Black, looking at Harry. 
“You should have left him to me….” 
Harry avoided Black's eyes. He wasn't sure, even now, that he'd done the right thing. 
“We attacked a teacher…We attacked a teacher…” Hermione whimpered, staring at the lifeless Snape with frightened eyes. “Oh, we're going to be in so much trouble —” 
Lupin was struggling against his bonds. Black bent down quickly and untied him. Lupin straightened up, rubbing his arms where the ropes had cut into them. 
“Thank you, Harry,” he said. 
“I'm still not saying I believe you,” he told Lupin. 
“Then it's time we offered you some proof,” said Lupin. “You, boy — give me Peter, please. Now.” 
Ron clutched Scabbers closer to his chest. 
“Come off it,” he said weakly. “Are you trying to say he broke out of Azkaban just to get his hands on Scabbers? I mean…” He looked up at Harry and Hermione for support, “Okay, say Pettigrew could turn into a rat — there are millions of rats — how's he supposed to know which one he is after if he was locked up in Azkaban?” 
“You know, Sirius, that's a fair question,” said Lupin, turning to Black and frowning slightly. “How did you find out where he was?” 
Black put one of his claw-like hands inside his robes and took out a crumpled piece of paper, which he smoothed flat and held out to show the others. 
It was the photograph of Ron and his family that had appeared in the Daily Prophet the previous summer, and there, on Ron's shoulder, was Scabbers. 
“How did you get this?” Lupin asked Black, thunderstruck. 
“Fudge,” said Black. “When he came to inspect Azkaban last year, he gave me his paper. And there was Peter, on the front page on this boy's shoulder…I knew him at once…how many times had I seen him transform? And the caption said the boy would be going back to Hogwarts…to where Harry was…” 
“My God,” said Lupin softly, staring from Scabbers to the picture in the paper and back again. “His front paw…” 
“What about it?” said Ron defiantly. 
“He's got a toe missing,” said Black. 
“Of course,” Lupin breathed. “So simple…so brilliant…he cut it off himself?” 
“Just before he transformed,” said Black. “When I cornered him, he yelled for the whole street to hear that I'd betrayed Lily and James. Then, before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with the wand behind his back, killed everyone within twenty feet of himself — and sped down into the sewer with the other rats….” 
“Didn't you ever hear, Ron?” said Lupin. “The biggest bit of Peter they found was his finger.” 
“Look, Scabbers probably had a fight with another rat or something! He's been in my family for ages, right —” 
“Twelve years, in fact,” said Lupin. “Didn't you ever wonder why he was living so long?” 
“We — we've been taking good care of him!” said Ron. 
“Not looking too good at the moment, though, is he?” said Lupin. “I'd guess he's been losing weight ever since he heard Sirius was on the loose again….” 
“He's been scared of that mad cat!” said Ron, nodding toward Crookshanks, who was still purring on the bed. 
But that wasn't right, Harry thought suddenly…Scabbers had been looking ill before he met Crookshanks… ever since Ron's return from Egypt…since the time when Black had escaped…. 
“This cat isn't mad,” said Black hoarsely. He reached out a bony hand and stroked Crookshanks's fluffy head. “He's the most intelligent of his kind I've ever met. He recognized Peter for what he was right away. And when he met me, he knew I was no dog. It was a while before he trusted me…Finally, I managed to communicate to him what I was after, and he's been helping me…” 
“What do you mean?” breathed Hermione. 
“He tried to bring Peter to me, but couldn't…so he stole the passwords into Gryffindor Tower for me…As I understand it, he took them from a boy's bedside table…” 
Harry's brain seemed to be sagging under the weight of what he was hearing. It was absurd…and yet…
“But Peter got wind of what was going on and ran for it.” croaked Black. “This cat — Crookshanks, did you call him? — told me Peter had left blood on the sheets…I supposed he bit himself…Well, faking his own death had worked once.” 
These words jolted Harry to his senses. 
“And why did he fake his death?” he said furiously. “Because he knew you were about to kill him like you killed my parents!” 
“No,” said Lupin, “Harry—” 
“And now you've come to finish him off!” 
“Yes, I have,” said Black, with an evil look at Scabbers. 
“Then I should've let Snape take you!” Harry shouted. 
“Harry,” said Lupin hurriedly, “don't you see? All this time we've thought Sirius betrayed your parents, and Peter tracked him down — but it was the other way around, don't you see? Peter betrayed your mother and father — Sirius tracked Peter down —” 
“THAT'S NOT TRUE!” Harry yelled. “HE WAS THEIR SECRET-KEEPER! HE SAID SO BEFORE YOU TURNED UP. HE SAID HE KILLED THEM!” 
He was pointing at Black, who shook his head slowly; the sunken eyes were suddenly over bright. 
“Harry…I as good as killed them,” he croaked. “I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret-Keeper instead of me…I'm to blame, I know it…The night they died, I'd arranged to check on Peter, make sure he was still safe, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he'd gone. Yet there was no sign of a struggle. It didn't feel right. I was scared. I set out for your parents’ house straight away. And when I saw their house, destroyed, and their bodies…I realized what Peter must've done…what I'd done….” 
His voice broke. He turned away. 
“Enough of this,” said Lupin, and there was a steely note in his voice Harry had never heard before. “There's one certain way to prove what really happened. Ron, give me that rat.” 
“What are you going to do with him if I give him to you?” Ron asked Lupin tensely. 
“Force him to show himself,” said Lupin. “If he really is a rat, it won't hurt him.” 
Ron hesitated. Then at long last, he held out Scabbers and Lupin took him. Scabbers began to squeak without stopping, twisting and turning, his tiny black eyes bulging in his head. “Ready, Sirius?” said Lupin. 
Black had already retrieved Snape's wand from the bed. He approached Lupin and the struggling rat, and his wet eyes suddenly seemed to be burning in his face. 
“Together?” he said quietly. 
“I think so”, said Lupin, holding Scabbers tightly in one hand and his wand in the other. “On the count of three. One — two — THREE!” 
A flash of blue-white light erupted from both wands; for a moment, Scabbers was frozen in midair, his small gray form twisting madly — Ron yelled — the rat fell and hit the floor. There was another blinding flash of light and then — 
It was like watching a speeded-up film of a growing tree. A head was shooting upward from the ground; limbs were sprouting; a moment later, a man was standing where Scabbers had been, cringing and wringing his hands. Crookshanks was spitting and snarling on the bed; the hair on his back was standing up. 
He was a very short man, hardly taller than Harry and Hermione. His thin, colorless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald patch on top. He had the shrunken appearance of a plump man who has lost a lot of weight in a short time. His skin looked grubby, almost like Scabbers's fur, and something of the rat lingered around his pointed nose and his very small, watery eyes. He looked around at them all, his breathing fast and shallow. Harry saw his eyes dart to the door and back again. 
“Well, hello, Peter,” said Lupin pleasantly, as though rats frequently erupted into old school friends around him. “Long time, no see.” 
“S—Sirius…R—Remus…” Even Pettigrew's voice was squeaky. Again, his eyes darted toward the door. “My friends…my old friends…” 
Black's wand arm rose, but Lupin seized him around the wrist, gave him a warning took, then turned again to Pettigrew, his voice light and casual. 
“We've been having a little chat, Peter, about what happened the night Lily and James died. You might have missed the finer points while you were squeaking around down there on the bed —” 
“Remus,” gasped Pettigrew, and Harry could see beads of sweat breaking out over his pasty face, “you don't believe him, do you…? He tried to kill me, Remus….” 
“So we've heard,” said Lupin, more coldly. “I'd like to clear up one or two little matters with you, Peter, if you'll be so —” 
“He's come to try and kill me again!” Pettigrew squeaked suddenly, pointing at Black, and Harry saw that he used his middle finger, because his index was missing. “He killed Lily and James and now he's going to kill me too…You've got to help me, Remus….” 
Black's face looked more skull-like than ever as he stared at Pettigrew with his fathomless eyes. 
“No one's going to try and kill you until we've sorted a few things out,” said Lupin. 
“Sorted things out?” squealed Pettigrew, looking wildly about him once more, eyes taking in the boarded windows and, again, the only door. “I knew he'd come after me! I knew he'd be back for me! I've been waiting for this for twelve years!” 
“You knew Sirius was going to break out of Azkaban?” said Lupin, his brow furrowed. “When nobody has ever done it before?” 
“He's got dark powers the rest of us can only dream of!” Pettigrew shouted shrilly. “How else did he get out of there? I suppose He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named taught him a few tricks!” 
Black started to laugh, a horrible, mirthless laugh that filled the whole room. 
“Voldemort, teach me tricks?” he said. 
Pettigrew flinched as though Black had brandished a whip at him. 
“What, scared to hear your old master's name?” said Black. “I don't blame you, Peter. His lot aren't very happy with you, are they?” 
“Don't know what you mean, Sirius —” muttered Pettigrew, his breathing faster than ever. His whole face was shining with sweat now. 
“You haven't been hiding from me for twelve years,” said Black. “You've been hiding from Voldemort's old supporters. I heard things in Azkaban, Peter…They all think you're dead, or you'd have to answer to them…I've heard them screaming all sorts of things in their sleep. Sounds like they think the double-crosser double-crossed them. Voldemort went to the Potters’ on your information…and Voldemort met his downfall there. And not all Voldemort's supporters ended up in Azkaban, did they? There are still plenty out here, biding their time, pretending they've seen the error of their ways. If they ever got wind that you were still alive, Peter —” 
“Don't know…what you're talking about…” said Pettigrew again, more shrilly than ever. He wiped his face on his sleeve and looked up at Lupin. “You don't believe this — this madness, Remus —” 
“I must admit, Peter, I have difficulty in understanding why an innocent man would want to spend twelve years as a rat,” said Lupin evenly. 
“Innocent, but scared!” squealed Pettigrew. “If Voldemort's supporters were after me, it was because I put one of their best men in Azkaban — the spy, Sirius Black!” 
Black's face contorted. 
“How dare you,” he growled, sounding suddenly like the bearsized dog he had been. “I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter — I'll never understand why I didn't see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who'd look after you, didn't you? It used to be us…me and Remus…and James…” 
Pettigrew wiped his face again; he was almost panting for breath. 
“Me, a spy…must be out of your mind…never…don't know how you can say such a —” 
“Lily and James only made you Secret-Keeper because I suggested it,” Black hissed, so venomously that Pettigrew took a step backward. “I thought it was the perfect plan…a bluff…Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they'd use a weak, talentless thing like you…It must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters.” 
Pettigrew was muttering distractedly; Harry caught words like “far-fetched” and “lunacy,” but he couldn't help paying more attention to the ashen color of Pettigrew's face and the way his eyes continued to dart toward the windows and door. 
“Professor Lupin?” said Hermione timidly. “Can — can I say something?” 
“Certainly, Hermione,” said Lupin courteously. 
“Well — Scabbers — I mean, this — this man — he's been sleeping in Harry's dormitory for three years. If he's working for You-Know-Who, how come he never tried to hurt Harry before now?” 
“There!” said Pettigrew shrilly, pointing at Ron with his maimed hand. “Thank you! You see, Remus? I have never hurt a hair of Harry's head! Why should I?” 
“I'll tell you why,” said Black. “Because you never did anything for anyone unless you could see what was in it for you. Voldemort's been in hiding for fifteen years, they say he's half dead. You weren't about to commit murder right under Albus Dumbledore's nose, for a wreck of a wizard who'd lost all of his power, were you? You'd want to be quite sure he was the biggest bully in the playground before you went back to him, wouldn't you? Why else did you find a wizard family to take you in? Keeping an ear out for news, weren't you, Peter? Just in case your old protector regained strength, and it was safe to rejoin him….” 
Pettigrew opened his mouth and closed it several times. He seemed to have lost the ability to talk. 
“Er — Mr. Black — Sirius?” said Hermione. 
Black jumped at being addressed like this and stared at Hermione as though he had never seen anything quite like her. 
“If you don't mind me asking, how — how did you get out of Azkaban, if you didn't use Dark Magic?” 
“Thank you!” gasped Pettigrew, nodding frantically at her. “Exactly! Precisely what I —” 
But Lupin silenced him with a look. Black was frowning slightly at Hermione, but not as though he were annoyed with her. He seemed to be pondering his answer. 
“I don't know how I did it,” he said slowly. “I think the only reason I never lost my mind is that I knew I was innocent. That wasn't a happy thought, so the Dementors couldn't suck it out of me…but it kept me sane and knowing who I am…helped me keep my powers…so when it all became…too much…I could transform in my cell…become a dog. Dementors can't see, you know…” He swallowed. “They feel their way toward people by feeding off their emotions…They could tell that my feelings were less — less human, less complex when I was a dog…but they thought, of course, that I was losing my mind like everyone else in there, so it didn't trouble them. But I was weak, very weak, and I had no hope of driving them away from me without a wand….” 
“But then I saw Peter in that picture…I realized he was at Hogwarts with Harry…perfectly positioned to act, if one hint reached his ears that the Dark Side was gathering strength again…” 
Pettigrew was shaking his head, mouthing noiselessly, but staring all the while at Black as though hypnotized. 
“…ready to strike at the moment he could be sure of allies…and to deliver the last Potter to them. if he gave them Harry, who'd dare say he'd betrayed Lord Voldemort? He'd be welcomed back with honors….” 
“So you see, I had to do something. I was the only one who knew Peter was still alive…” 
Harry remembered what Mr. Weasley had told Mrs. Wealsey. ‘The guards say he's been talking in his sleep… always the same words… ‘He's at Hogwarts.'’ 
“It was as if someone had lit a fire In my head, and the Dementors couldn't destroy it…It wasn't a happy feeling…it was an obsession…but it gave me strength, it cleared my mind. So, one night when they opened my door to bring food, I slipped past them as a dog…It's so much harder for them to sense animal emotions that they were confused…I was thin, very thin…thin enough to slip through the bars…I swam as a dog back to the mainland …I journeyed north and slipped into the Hogwarts grounds as a dog. I've been living in the forest ever since, except when I came to watch the Quidditch, of course. You fly as well as your father did, Harry….” 
He looked at Harry, who did not look away. 
“Believe me,” croaked Black. “Believe me, Harry. I never betrayed James and Lily. I would have died before I betrayed them.” 
And at long last, Harry believed him. Throat too tight to speak, he nodded. 
“No!” 
Pettigrew had fallen to his knees as though Harry's nod had been his own death sentence. He shuffled forward on his knees, groveling, his hands clasped in front of him as though praying. 
“Sirius — it's me…it's Peter…your friend…you wouldn't —” 
Black kicked out and Pettigrew recoiled. 
“There's enough filth on my robes without you touching them,” said Black. 
“Remus!” Pettigrew squeaked, turning to Lupin instead, writhing imploringly in front of him. “You don't believe this — wouldn't Sirius have told you they'd changed the plan?” 
“Not if he thought I was the spy, Peter,” said Lupin. “I assume that's why you didn't tell me, Sirius?” he said casually over Pettigrew's head. 
“Forgive me, Remus,” said Black. 
“Not at all, Padfoot, old friend,” said Lupin, who was now rolling up his sleeves. “And will you, in turn, forgive me for believing you were the spy?” 
“Of course,” said Black, and the ghost of a grin flitted across his gaunt face. He, too, began rolling up his sleeves. “Shall we kill him together?” 
“Yes, I think so,” said Lupin grimly. 
“You wouldn't…you won't…” gasped Pettigrew. And he scrambled around to Ron. 
“Ron…haven't I been a good friend…a good pet? You won't let them kill me, Ron, will you…you're on my side, aren't you?” 
But Ron was staring at Pettigrew with the utmost revulsion. 
“I let you sleep in my bed!” he said. 
“Kind boy…kind master…” Pettigrew crawled toward Ron “You won't let them do it…I was your rat…I was a good pet….” 
“If you made a better rat than a human, it's not much to boast about, Peter,” said Black harshly. Ron, going still paler with pain, wrenched his broken leg out of Pettigrew's reach. Pettigrew turned on his knees, staggered forward, and seized the hem of Hermione's robes. 
“Sweet girl…clever girl…you — you won't let them…Help me….” 
Hermione pulled her robes out of Pettigrew's clutching hands and backed away against the wall, looking horrified. 
Pettigrew knelt, trembling uncontrollably, and turned his head slowly toward Harry. 
“Harry…Harry…you look just like your father…just like him…” 
“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HARRY?” roared Black. “HOW DARE YOU FACE HIM? HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT JAMES IN FRONT OF HIM?” 
“Harry,” whispered Pettigrew, shuffling toward him, hands outstretched. “Harry, James wouldn't have wanted me killed…James would have understood, Harry…he would have shown me mercy…” 
Both Black and Lupin strode forward, seized Pettigrew's shoulders, and threw him backward onto the floor. He sat there, twitching with terror, staring up at them. 
“You sold Lily and James to Voldemort,” said Black, who was shaking too. “Do you deny it?” 
Pettigrew burst into tears. It was horrible to watch, like an oversized, balding baby, cowering on the floor. 
“Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done? The Dark Lord…you have no idea…he has weapons you can't imagine …I was scared, Sirius, I was never brave like you and Remus and James. I never meant it to happen…He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced me —” 
“DON'T LIE!” bellowed Black. “YOU'D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY AND JAMES DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!” 
“He — he was taking over everywhere!” gasped Pettigrew. “Wh-what was there to be gained by refusing him?” 
“What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?” said Black, with a terrible fury in his face. “Only innocent lives, Peter!” 
“You don't understand!” whined Pettigrew. “He would have killed me, Sirius!” 
“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!” roared Black. “DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!” 
Black and Lupin stood shoulder to shoulder, wands raised. 
“You should have realized,” said Lupin quietly, “if Voldemort didn't kill you, we would. Good-bye, Peter.” 
Hermione covered her face with her hands and turned to the wall. 
“NO!” Harry yelled. He ran forward, placing himself in front Pettigrew, facing the wands. “You can't kill him,” he said breathlessly. “You can't.” 
Black and Lupin both looked staggered. 
“Harry, this piece of vermin is the reason you have no parents,” Black snarled. “This cringing bit of filth would have seen you die too, without turning a hair. You heard him. His own stinking skin meant more to him than your whole family.” 
“I know,” Harry panted. “We'll take him up to the castle. We'll hand him over to the Dementors…He can go to Azkaban…but don't kill him.” 
“Harry!” gasped Pettigrew, and he flung his arms around Harry's knees. “You — thank you — it's more than I deserve — thank you —” 
“Get off me,” Harry spat, throwing Pettigrew's hands off him in disgust. “I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it because — I don't reckon my dad would've wanted them to become killers — just for you.” 
No one moved or made a sound except Pettigrew, whose breath was coming in wheezes as he clutched his chest. Black and Lupin were looking at each other. Then, with one movement, they lowered their wands. 
“You're the only person who has the right to decide, Harry,” said Black. “But think… think what he did….” 
“He can go to Azkaban,” Harry repeated. “If anyone deserves that place, he does….” 
Pettigrew was still wheezing behind him. 
“Very well,” said Lupin. “Stand aside, Harry.” 
Harry hesitated. 
“I'm going to tie him up,” said Lupin. “That's all, I swear.” 
Harry stepped out of the way. Thin cords shot from Lupin's wand this time, and next moment, Pettigrew was wriggling on the floor, bound and gagged. 
“But if you transform, Peter,” growled Black, his own wand pointing at Pettigrew too, “we will kill you. You agree, Harry?” 
Harry looked down at the pitiful figure on the floor and nodded so that Pettigrew could see him. 
“Right,” said Lupin, suddenly businesslike. “Ron, I can't mend bones nearly as well as Madam Pomfrey, so I think it's best if we just strap your leg up until we can get you to the hospital wing.” 
He hurried over to Ron, bent down, tapped Ron's leg with his wand, and muttered, “Ferula.” Bandages spun up Ron's leg, strapping it tightly to a splint. Lupin helped him to his feet; Ron put his weight gingerly on the leg and didn't wince. 
“That's better,” he said. “Thanks.” 
“What about Professor Snape?” said Hermione in a small voice, looking down at Snape's prone figure. 
“There's nothing seriously wrong with him,” said Lupin, bending over Snape and checking his pulse. “You were just a little — overenthusiastic. Still out cold. Er — perhaps it will be best if we don't revive him until we're safety back in the castle. We can take him like this….” 
He muttered, “Mobilicorpus.” As though invisible strings were tied to Snape's wrists, neck, and knees, he was pulled into a standing position, head still lolling unpleasantly, like a grotesque puppet. He hung a few inches above the ground, his limp feet dangling. Lupin picked up the Invisibility Cloak and tucked it safely into his pocket. 
“And two of us should be chained to this,” said Black, nudging Pettigrew with his toe. “Just to make sure.” 
“I'll do it,” said Lupin. 
“And me,” said Ron savagely, limping forward. 
Black conjured heavy manacles from thin air; soon Pettigrew was upright again, left arm chained to Lupin's right, right arm to Ron's left. Ron's face was set. He seemed to have taken Scabbers's true identity as a personal insult. Crookshanks leapt lightly off the bed and led the way out of the room, his bottlebrush tail held jauntily high. 
荷米恩尖叫着，巴拉克“腾”的站了起来，哈利则如同遭电击般地跳了起来。 
　　“我在胡宾柳树的树基上发现了这个，”史纳皮说，他将斗篷扔在一边，用魔杖小心翼翼地指着露平，“波特，你做得很好，非常感谢。” 
　　史纳皮屏住呼吸，但却喜形于色，“或许，你觉得很奇怪，我是怎样知道你在这里的。”他说，眼中闪着光，“我去过你的办公室，露平，今晚你忘了带上你的药水，所以我取了一只高脚杯，很幸运我这样做了，我是说，对我来说很幸运在你的桌子上，放着一张地图，只瞥了它一眼，我就知道了所有的一切，我看见你跑过通道，然后消失在视线里。” 
　　“史纳皮……”露平开口说，但是史纳皮根本就不理会他。 
　　“我一遍又一遍告诉校长，你在帮助你的老朋友巴拉克进入城堡，露平，这就是证据，即使是我都没有想过你竟然会将这个老地方当作你的藏身之所。” 
　　“史纳皮，你犯了一个错误，”露平急促地说，“你并非听到了所有的一切——我可以解释说西里斯来这里并不为了要杀哈利。” 
　　“对阿兹克班来说，今晚又多了两个，”史纳皮说道，现在他的眼光神采奕奕，“我对丹伯多将会如何处理这些很感兴趣……他一直都很确信你是无害的，你知道的，露平……一个被驯服了人狼。” 
　　“你这个傻子，”露平轻声说，“一个学校的男孩怎么会舍得将一个无辜的人重新送回阿兹克班呢？” 
　　“嗖！”细长的，像蛇一般的绳子从史纳皮的手杖中射出缠绕在露平的嘴上，腰上和足踝上。他一下失去平衡，倒在了地上，不能动弹。 
　　随着一声愤怒的爆叫，巴拉克向史纳皮扑去，但是史纳皮将自己的魔杖直直的指在巴拉克的双目之间。 
　　“给我一个理由，”他低语道，“给我一个这样做的理由，我发誓我会做的。” 
　　巴拉克死死地站住了。那是不可能说出谁的脸上有更多的愤怒的。 
　　哈利站在那，瘫软了下去，不知道该如何去做，或者是相信些什么。他瞥了一眼罗恩和荷米恩，罗恩看起来和他一样的迷惑，仍然努力抓住挣扎不止的斯卡伯斯。 
　　然而，荷米恩向史纳皮迈进一步，了无生气地说：“史纳皮教授，听一听他们刚才所讲的东西是无妨的，对吧？” 
　　“格林佐小姐，你已经被停学了，”史纳皮啐了一口，“你，波特还有威斯里，行为太出格了，竟然与一个谋杀犯和一只人狼成为一伙，不管怎样，都给我闭嘴。” 
　　“但是如果，如果有错的话……” 
　　“安静，你这个臭丫头，”史纳皮喊道，突然之间，看似怒不可遏，“不要开口讲你并不明白的东西！”几束火花从手杖的顶端射出，手杖仍然对准巴拉克的脸。 
　　荷米恩静了下来。 
　　“复仇是多么美啊！”史纳皮盯着巴拉克说：“我是多么的希望我会是那个抓住你的人呀……” 
　　“你赢了，史纳皮，”巴拉克低声说，“只要你叫这个男孩将这只老鼠带回城堡——”他将头转向罗恩，“我就会安静的来……” 
　　“去城堡？”史纳皮狡黠地说，“我并不认为我们要走那么远，我们所要做的只不过是离开这个柳树之后就马上把得蒙特叫来，他们会很高兴见到你的，巴拉克……会高兴的以致于和你来一个小小的亲吻，我敢说。” 
　　巴拉克的脸上已失去了血色。 
　　“你，你必须听我说，”他哽咽的说，“老鼠，你看那老鼠……” 
　　但是有一种疯狂的闪光在史纳皮眼中，这是哈利所从未见过的。 
　　他看起来无法理解。 
　　“过来，你们所有的人，”他说。他点了点手指，绑着露平的绳子的端头便飞到了他的手中。“我来拉着这只人狼，得蒙特也许同样也会给他一个亲吻。” 
　　在他明白他正在做的事情之间，哈利已经三个大步跨过屋子，并且关上了门。 
　　“闪开，波特，你已经够麻烦的了，”史纳皮咆哮着，“如果我不曾来这里挽救你……” 
　　“这一年，露平教授可以杀死我大约一百次了，”哈利说，“我不知有多少时间都是和他一起渡过的，一起上反黑巫术课。如果他在帮助巴拉克，那么他当时为什么不杀死我。” 
　　“不要让我去揣摩一个狼人的心思，”史纳皮愤怒地吁声说，“闪开，波特。” 
　　“你这个悲哀的家伙！”哈利叫嚷着，“只是因为他们曾经取笑过你，你就甚至不愿意再听……” 
　　“闭嘴！不准再这样对我讲话！”史纳皮尖叫起来，看起来更加疯狂了。“什么样的老子，就有什么样的儿子，波特！我刚救了你这条小命，你应该跪着感激我！ 
　　如果他当时杀了你，你才真是活该！你就会和你爸爸一样的死去，太自负而不相信你会被巴拉克所欺骗——现在，让开，否则我就不客气了。滚开，波特。“ 
　　在那一刹那之间，哈利下定了决心，在史纳皮向他走进之前，他便举起了魔杖。 
　　“伊斯彼特华朗，”他喊叫着——除此之外，他的手杖发出了仅有的声音。一阵爆炸声便“嘎吱”一声响起了，史纳皮两脚离地，被重重的摔在墙上，然后，滑到地板上。一股鲜血从他的脑后流出，他被撞晕了过去。 
　　哈利向四周望了望。罗恩和荷米恩同时想要夺下他的手杖。史纳皮的手杖在空中划了一道圆弧，然后掉在紧挨克路殊克的床边。 
　　“你不应该这样做，”巴拉克望着哈利说，“你应该把他留给我……” 
　　哈利避开巴拉克的眼睛，直到现在，他也不知道，他所做的是否是对的。 
　　“我们攻击了一个老师，我们攻击了一个老师……”荷米恩自言自语地盯着了无生气的老师，“我们会遇到大麻烦了。” 
　　露平挣扎着挣脱束缚。巴拉克连忙弯下腰帮他解开了身上的绳子。露平站起来，揉搓着胳膊上绳子勒过的伤痕。 
　　“谢谢你，哈利。”他说道。 
　　“我还没说我会相信你，”哈利反驳道。 
　　“那么，现在是我们向你出示证据的时候了，”巴拉克说，“你，孩子，现在请将斯卡伯斯给我。” 
　　罗恩将斯卡伯斯拉入自己的胸膛里。 
　　“放开它，”他微弱地说，“你们是否说逃离阿兹克班只是为了抓住斯卡伯斯呢？我是说……”他望向哈利和荷米恩寻求支持。“好吧！就算是彼德吉雷可以变成一只老鼠——这里有成千上万只老鼠，如果他被关在阿兹克班，他怎么会知道哪一只老鼠是他要寻找的呢？” 
　　“你明白，西里斯，这是一个相当合理的问题，”露平转向巴拉克，眉头轻皱，“你是怎样知道他在哪里的呢？” 
　　巴拉克将他那如爪子一样的手放进袍子里，拿出了一张揉得很皱的纸，他将它弄平整，然后伸出来拿给其它人看。 
　　那是前一个夏天，登在《先知日报》上的一张罗恩和他的家人的合影，斯卡伯斯就呆在罗恩的肩上。 
　　“你是怎么搞到这个的？”露平说。 
　　“法治，”巴拉克答道。“去年他来视察阿兹克班时给了我这张报纸。斯卡伯斯就在首页上……呆在它的肩上，我一下子就认出了它……，我不知见过他多少次变形。而且还听说它将会回到霍格瓦彻……去哈利呆着的地方……” 
　　“我的天呀！”露平轻叹着，将盯向斯卡伯斯的目光转向报纸上的图片，又重新转向斯卡伯斯，“他的前爪……” 
　　“怎么了？” 
　　“他少了一个脚趾。”巴拉克说。 
　　“当然，”露平喘着气说，“这么简单，这么明显，是他自己切掉了它吗？” 
　　“就在他变形之前，”巴拉克说，“当我将他逼人角落的时候，他叫喊着使得整条街的人们都可以听到是我出卖了露平和杰姆斯。然后，在我追上他之前，他用魔杖炸开了整条街，杀死了所有在他二十英尺以内的人——然后同别的老鼠一起——” 
　　“你没有听说过吗？罗恩。”露平说，“他们找到的彼得身上最大的一块就是一个手指。” 
　　“你看，斯卡伯斯可能是和别的老鼠或其它的什么东西打过一架，它在我们家已经呆了好几年了，是吧——” 
　　“事实上是十二年。”露平说，“你从前没感到过奇怪吗？为什么他可以活那么久？” 
　　“我们，我们一直对他照顾得很好！”罗恩说。 
　　“但是现在看来他的气色并不怎么样，不是吗？”露平说，“我猜肯定是当他知道西里斯又一次逃脱时，才变得消瘦的。” 
　　“他是被那只疯猫给吓的！”罗恩说道，朝克路殊克点了点头，克路殊克仍然在床边“喵，喵”地叫着。 
　　但是这并不是事实，哈利突然想起在遇到克路殊克之前，斯卡伯斯就一直看起来病怏怏的……是从罗恩从埃及返回来时开始的…… 
　　也就是自从巴拉克逃脱时起。 
　　“这只猫并不疯，”巴拉克嘶哑地说。他伸出骨瘦如柴的手抚摸着克路殊克毛茸茸的头。“他是我所见过的最聪明的猫，它认得彼得是因为它知道他究竟是什么。 
　　当它遇见我的时候，它就知道我并不是狗。花了一段时间，它才相信了我，最后，我试着与它沟通，告诉它我在寻找什么。它一直都在帮助我。“ 
　　“你是指什么？”荷米恩紧张地问。 
　　“它试着将彼得带来见我，但是没能做到……因此它为我偷了进入格林芬顿塔的密码……据我所知，它是从一个男孩床边的茶几上偷到的……” 
　　哈利的脑袋看起来像因为承受不了他所听到的东西，垂了下来，太荒唐了，而且…… 
　　“但是彼得得知将会发生什么并准备逃走……这只猫……克路殊克，正如你们所称呼的——告诉我彼得在床上留下了血迹……我猜是他咬了他自己……然后，重新上演他装死的一幕。” 
　　这些话使哈利猛然产生了一个念头。 
　　“为什么他要装死呢？”他恐惧的问道，“因为他知道你要像杀死我父母那样杀死他。” 
　　“不！”露平说，“哈利——” 
　　“而且你现在是打算来杀死他的！” 
　　“是的！”巴拉克说，厌恶的看着斯卡伯斯。 
　　“那么，我当时应该让史纳皮带走你！”哈利喊到。 
　　“哈利，”露平急促地说，“难道你还没有看到吗？我们一直认为是西里斯出卖了你的父母，彼得追踪他——但事实是截然相反的，你还没看到吗？彼得出卖了你的父母，西里斯追踪彼得——” 
　　“这不是真的！”哈利喊到，“他是我的爸妈的保密人！他说过是他杀了他们，你也在场！” 
　　他指向巴拉克，但巴拉克缓缓地摇了摇头，他沉陷的眼睛突然变的格外明亮。 
　　“哈利……我是杀了他们，”他哽咽着说，“我在最后一刻说服他们让彼得做他们的保密人，让他来代替我……我是应受谴责，我知道，那天晚上他们死了，我曾安排好去查看彼得，确保他仍然安全，但是当我到达他的藏身之地时，他已经走了。而且那里并没有格斗的痕迹。我觉得蹊跷，我被吓坏了，直奔向你父母的房子。 
　　但是当我看到房子时，它已经被毁了，还有你父母的尸体——我意识到这一切肯定是彼得干的。还有我干的。“ 
　　他的声音停住了，然后转过身去。 
　　“够了！”露平说。他声音中坚定的语调是哈利从未听到过的，“现在，只有一个办法可以证明当时所发生的一切，罗恩，将老鼠给我。” 
　　“如果我把它给了你们，你们会怎样对待他？”罗恩紧张的问。 
　　“迫使它现出原形。”露平说，“如果它真的是只老鼠，我们不会伤害它的。” 
　　罗恩犹豫着，然后终于交与了斯卡伯斯，露平接过他。斯卡伯斯开始不停地尖叫，扭动，它头上的那双小黑眼几乎凸了出来。 
　　“准备好了吗？西里斯。”露平说。 
　　巴拉克已经从床边拿来了史纳皮的魔杖，他走到露平和这只挣扎木体的小老鼠面前，他那潮湿的眼睛突然如燃烧一般。 
　　“拿起来！”他轻轻地说。 
　　“我也是这么想的，”露平说，一支手拿着斯卡伯斯，另一支手拿起了魔杖，“我数三下，一，二，三！” 
　　每支魔杖都发出了一束蓝白色的光，斯卡伯斯一下子被升到了半空中，他那小小的黑色的身体疯狂地扭曲着。——罗恩叫喊着——那只老鼠落下来，重重地摔在地板上，一束刺眼的光芒闪出，然后——那就好像在看一部经加速的电影似的，可以看一棵树一节一节地长高。一只头从地上漫漫长出，然后，四肢像发芽似的缓缓伸出，下一刻，一个男人站在了斯卡伯斯站过的地方，伸缩的搓着双手。克路殊克在床上呲着牙嗥叫着，背上的毛都竖了起来。 
　　他是一个很短小的人，几乎还不够哈利和荷米恩那么高，他那稀疏的，淡色的头发凌乱不堪，头顶上的一片都秃了。他就像是一个雍肿的人突然缩了水似的，一下子就瘦了下去。他那肮脏的皮肤几乎和斯卡伯斯的毛一样。他那尖尖的鼻子使人不由自主想象到老鼠。 
　　他那小小的，潮湿的眼睛向四周看着他们，他的呼吸匆忙而短促，哈利看见他的眼睛射向门后又转开了。 
　　“哦，你好吗，彼得，”露平愉快地说，好像经常有老鼠会变成他的老同学似的，“好久不见了。” 
　　“西——西里斯，雷马斯……”彼德吉雷的声音听起来如同尖叫，他又一次将目光投向门口，“我的朋友们……我的老朋友们……” 
　　巴拉克的手杖又一次举起，但是露平抓住了他的手，给了他一个要他留心的眼神，然后又转向彼德吉雷，他的声音轻松而自然。 
　　“让我们来一个小小的谈话，彼得，那天晚上，当莉莉和杰姆斯死去的时候究竟都发生了些什么。当你在床上乱叫的时候，你可能错过了最精彩的情节。” 
　　“雷马斯，”彼德吉雷喘着粗气说，哈利可以看到他的脸上满是大滴大滴的汗珠，“你不信任我，是吗？他想要杀死我呀！雷马斯。” 
　　“这是我们听过的”，露平说，声音更加冷酷了。“我想和你搞清楚一两件事，彼得，如果你愿意的话。” 
　　“他又要来杀我了！”彼德吉雷突然尖叫道，指向巴拉克，哈利注意到他用的是中指，因为他的食指已经失去了。“他杀死了莉莉和杰姆斯，现在他又想来杀死我……你得帮助我，雷马斯……” 
　　当巴拉克那深不可测的双眼望向彼得时，他的脸看起来比任何时候都更形如骷髅。 
　　“直到我们搞清楚一些事情之前，没有人想要杀你。”露平说。 
　　“弄清一些事？”彼德吉雷尖叫着问，他又一次狂野起来，眼睛盯向敞开的窗户，然后又盯向唯一的门。“我知道他在追杀我，我知道他会回来找我的，我已经等了整整十二年了。” 
　　“你知道西里斯会逃出阿兹克班？”露平说，他的眉头紧凑。“在没有人做到这之前？” 
　　“他所具有的邪恶力量是我们做梦都得不到的。”彼德吉雷尖叫着，“不然的话他怎么能从那里逃出来呢？我猜肯定是什么不为人知的东西教给他的诡计。” 
　　巴拉克开始大笑起来，一种恐怖的，毫无怜悯的笑声充满了屋子。 
　　“福尔得摩特教给我诡计？”他说。 
　　彼德吉雷抽缩着，如同巴拉克抽了他一鞭。 
　　“怎么，听到你的老校长的名字害怕了是吧？”巴拉克说，“我并不怪你，他们那一群人并不喜欢你，不是吗？” 
　　“我不知道——你在说些什么，西里斯——”彼德吉雷咕哝着，他的呼吸更加急促了，现在他的整张脸都是湿的了。 
　　“你并不是为了躲开我，才藏了十二年的，”巴拉克说，“你是为了躲避福尔得摩特的支持者们。在阿兹克班，我听到了一些东西，彼得……他们都认为你已经死了，否则你早就遭报应了……我听到过他们在睡梦中的各种尖叫声，听起来好像是他们认为有背叛者出卖了他们，福尔得摩特是按你的指示去波特家的……并且福尔得摩特是在那里垮台的，而且并不是所有的福尔得摩特的支持者都进了阿兹克班，不是吗？这里还有很多他们的人，假装已承认了他们过去做的错事，其实在准备时机……假如他们听到风声说你还活着的话，彼得……” 
　　“我不知道……你在讲些什么……”彼德吉雷又一次嚷道，尖叫比以前更厉害。 
　　他用袖子擦了擦自己的脸，然后又望向露平，“你不相信这些的，你不相信这些疯话的，雷马斯。” 
　　“我必须承认，彼得，我很难想明白为什么一个无辜的人会作为一只老鼠度过十二年。”露平平静地说。 
　　“无辜，但是害怕！”彼德吉雷尖声说，“如果说福尔得摩特的支持者追查我，那是因为我将他们的头儿送进了阿兹克班——那个间谍，西里斯。巴拉克。” 
　　巴拉克的脸因扭曲而走了样。 
　　“好大的胆，你——”他咆哮着，听起来就像是一只如熊般大的狗发出的。 
　　“我是福尔得摩特的间谍？我什么时候曾偷偷的向比我强壮或有力的人献过殷勤？ 
　　但是你，彼得——我不明白我当时怎么没从这一点上发现你是个间谍。你总是喜欢能照顾你的朋友，不是吗？ 
　　过去是我们，我，雷马斯还有杰姆斯……“彼德吉雷又一次抹了一把脸，他几乎为了吸气而剧烈地喘息着。 
　　“我，一个间谍……你肯定是糊涂了……我永远不明白他怎么会这样说…” 
　　“莉莉和杰姆斯让你做保密人是我提议的。”巴拉克嘶嘶的说。 
　　彼德吉雷恶毒的向后退了一步，巴拉克接着说，“我以为这是一个完美无缺的计划——可以绝处逢生……福尔得摩特肯定会追我，我从没想到过他们竟然会利用你这个毫无本事，胆小怕事的东西，当时肯定是你这悲惨的一生中最快乐的时光，告诉福尔得摩特你将会把波特夫妇双手奉送给他们。” 
　　彼德吉雷心烦意乱地咕哝着，哈利听到了一些诸如“反常”，“神经错乱”的词，但是他不经意的注意到彼德吉雷那苍白的脸色以及他再次将目光投向门和窗子的神情。 
　　“露平教授，”荷米恩胆怯地叫了一声，“我可以讲几句话吗？” 
　　“当然，荷米恩。”露平礼貌地回答道。 
　　“是这样的，斯卡伯斯，我是指这个曾经在哈利的宿舍里住了三年的男人。如果他在为您所说的那个人效劳，那么为何他以前没有加害哈利呢？” 
　　“就是嘛！”彼德吉雷尖叫着，用他那只残废的手指着荷米恩说，“谢谢你！ 
　　你看，雷马斯！我从未伤过哈利的一根毫毛，这是为什么呢？“ 
　　“我会告诉你为什么，”巴拉克说，“因为除非对你而言有好处可寻，否则你决不会为任何人做任何事。福尔得摩特已经藏了十二年了，他们说他已经是半死不活了，你不会在丹伯多的鼻子底下犯谋杀罪的，否则，一个巫师将会失去他所有的法力，不是吗？在你回去他那里之前，你想要先弄清楚他是魔法界最大的坏蛋，不是吗？况且，你为什么非要住在一个魔法师的家里呢？你只是为了能得到最新的消息，不是吗？万一你以前的保护者又重新壮大起来，加入他们会很安全的……” 
　　彼德吉雷的嘴张开又合上了几次，他好像是已经不能讲话了。 
　　“哦，巴拉克先生——西里斯？”荷米恩胆怯地说。 
　　巴拉克被这种称呼吓了一大跳，他盯着荷米恩好像是如何礼貌地讲话已经是被忘记了很久的事了。 
　　“如果您不介意的话，我想问一下，如果您没有借助邪恶巫术的话，您是怎样逃离阿兹克班的呢？” 
　　“谢谢你，”彼德吉雷喘着气说，疯狂地冲她点着头说，“非常正确，确切地说……” 
　　但是露平狠狠地盯了他一眼，使他闭上了嘴。巴拉克冲着荷米恩微微地皱了皱眉，但是他看起来并不像是因为荷米恩的话而恼怒，而是在想他应当如何叙述。 
　　“我不知道我是如何做到的。”他慢慢说，“唯一能解释我并没有失去心智的原因就是我知道我是无辜的。这并不是一个令人愉快的想法。所以得蒙特并没能使我失去心智。但是它却使我知道我是谁，帮助我保存了我的力量。因此当一切都到来的时候，我在监牢里变形，变成一只狗，你们是知道，得蒙特看不见……”他咽了一下口水，“他们感觉得到人，是通过察觉他们的感情……他们可以感觉到我的情感越来越失去人性，当我变成狗的时候，感情就不再那么复杂了……但是他们想，当然是因为我和其他人一样失去了心智的原因，因此这没有使他们起疑心。但是我当时非常非常的虚弱，我并不抱希望在没有魔杖的情况下，我能够将他们赶走。但是当我看见彼得在这幅图画中的时候，我意识到他就在霍格瓦彻，与哈利在一起… 
　　… 
　　蓄势待发，一旦有黑暗势力重新纠集在一起的消息传入他的耳中……“彼德吉雷摇着头，嘴里发出乱七八糟的声音，但是他一直在盯着巴拉克，好像被催眠了一样。 
　　“只等听到他们又重新纠集在一起的消息就将最后一个波特家的人带去献给他们。只要他将哈利交给他们，谁还敢说是他出卖了福尔得摩特呢？他将会荣耀而归。” 
　　“现在你们看到了，我必须要有所行动才行，只有我知道彼得还活着。” 
　　哈利记起了威斯里先生曾经对威斯里夫人说过的话。“警卫们说他一直讲梦话，而且总是重复同样的话……‘他在霍格瓦彻’。” 
　　“就好像是有人在我的脑子里点了一把火，连得蒙特都无法熄灭它……这并不是一种令人愉快的感情……这是一种压抑感……但是它给了我力量，它使我的头脑清醒了。因此，一天晚上，他们打开门给我送食物的时候，我变成一条狗从他们的身边爬过……对他们来说察觉动物的感情是相当困难的。以至于他们被搞糊涂了… 
　　…我这人非常的瘦……瘦得足以从栏杆之间爬出来……我像狗一样回到大陆……我从此就在森林里居住着，除了我去观看快迪斯球赛的时候，当然……你飞的时候和你爸爸一样，哈利……“ 
　　他看着哈利，这一次他没有望向别处。 
　　“相信我，”巴拉克嘶哑地说，“相信我，我从未出卖过莉莉和杰姆斯，我会在出卖他们之前就死掉的。” 
　　最后，哈利终于相信他，他的喉咙过于夜咽而说不出话，只好点了点头。 
　　“不要！” 
　　彼德吉雷双腿一软跪在了地上，哈利点头如同宣判了彼德吉雷的死一般。他双膝跪着往前蹭，匍匐在地上，他的双手合拢放在胸前，好像是祈祷似的。 
　　“西里斯，是我呀……我是彼得呀，你的好朋友，你不会……” 
　　巴拉克一脚踢向彼德吉雷，彼德吉雷连忙向后缩。 
　　“我的袍子没被你碰之前就已经够脏的了。”巴拉克说。 
　　“雷马斯，”彼德吉雷尖叫着，转而向雷马斯求救。在雷马斯面前拼命的哀求着，“不要相信这些……难道西里斯没有告诉过你他们改变了计划吗？” 
　　“除非他认为我是间谍，彼得，”露平说，“让我假设这是你没有告诉我的原因，西里斯？”他在彼德吉雷的头顶上轻松的说。 
　　“原谅我，雷马斯？”巴拉克说。 
　　“没什么，彼弗，我的老朋友，”露平说，他卷起了自己的袖子，“那么你呢？ 
　　是不是也能原谅我误认你为间谍呢？“ 
　　“当然，”巴拉克说，一丝笑意呈现在他那张枯瘦的脸上。他也开始卷起了袖子，“我们可以一起杀死地吗？” 
　　“当然，我正有此意。”露平微笑着说。 
　　“你们不可以……你们不能……”彼德吉雷喘着气说，并且抓着罗恩的衣服。 
　　“罗恩……难道我不是你的好朋友吗？一个好的宠物？你不会让他们杀死我的，罗恩，是吗？你会站在我这一边的，不是吗？” 
　　但是罗恩十分厌恶的盯着他。 
　　“我让你睡我的床。”他说。 
　　“亲爱的孩子，亲爱的主人……”彼德吉雷爬向罗恩，“你不会让他们这样做的……我是你的老鼠，我是你的好宠物……” 
　　“如果你真的是老鼠而不是人，这么说倒不足为怪。”巴拉克严厉地说。罗恩的脸色因痛苦而变得越发灰白，将自己的断腿脱离彼德吉雷，彼德吉雷又脆起来，摇摇的移向荷米恩，拉住了她的衣角。 
　　“可爱的姑娘，聪明的姑娘——你，你不会让他们……帮帮我吧！”荷米恩将自己的袍子从他手中拉出，退回到墙边，胆怯的望着这一切。 
　　彼德吉雷跪坐了下来，无法控制的擅抖着，将他的头慢慢地转向哈利。 
　　“哈利，哈利，你看起来就和你的父亲一样，一模一样！” 
　　“你怎么敢对哈利讲话？”巴拉克咆哮着，“你怎么还敢面对他？ 
　　你怎么还敢在他面前提起杰姆斯？“ 
　　“哈利，”彼德吉雷蹭着移向他，伸出双手，低声说，“哈利，杰姆斯不会让我被别人杀死的……他会明白一切的，哈利，他一定会怜悯我的。” 
　　巴拉克和露平一起走上前，抓住了彼德吉雷的肩膀，又将他扔到地上。他坐在地上，充满恐惧地望着他们。 
　　“你将莉莉和杰姆斯出卖给福尔得摩特；”巴拉克颤抖地说。“你还想抵赖吗？” 
　　彼德吉雷大哭起来。那是一幅吓人的景象：就像是一个秃顶的，硕大的婴儿，蜷缩在地上。 
　　“西里斯，西里斯，我还能怎么办呢？邪恶巫师，你根本就不知道……他所拥有的武器你根本就无法想象……我被吓坏了，西里斯，我从来就不像你和雷马斯还有杰姆斯那么勇敢。我也不想那么做，但是那个不可言喻的人强迫我——” 
　　“不准说谎，”巴拉克咆哮着，“在莉莉和杰姆斯死去的一年以前你就开始为他们提供情报了，你是他们的密探！” 
　　“他，他控制着一切！”彼德吉雷喘着气说，“拒绝他将会得到什么呢？” 
　　“那么与曾经存在过的最邪恶的巫师作战又能得到什么好处呢？”巴拉克说，他的脸上出现了令人恐惧的愤怒，“只是那些无辜的生命，彼得。” 
　　“你不会明白的。”彼德吉雷眨着眼说，“他们会杀了我的，西里斯。” 
　　“那么你当时就应该死掉！”巴拉克咆哮着，“死总比出卖自己的朋友好，就像我们为你做的那样。” 
　　巴拉克与露平肩并肩的站着，举起了手杖。 
　　“你早就应该知道，”露平静静的说，“如果福尔得摩特不杀死你，我们也会的。再见，彼得。” 
　　荷米恩用双手捂住了脸，转向墙。 
　　“不！”哈利喊道。他跑上前，迎着魔杖，挡在了彼得前面，“你们不能杀死他，”他静静的说，“你们不能。” 
　　巴拉克和露平都吃了一惊。 
　　“哈利，这个垃圾是你失去父母的原因。”巴拉克吼道，“这个卑躬屈膝的肮脏的家伙，可以不动吹灰之力杀死你，你听到了，他的肮脏的心害过你们一家人的性命。” 
　　“我知道。”哈利喘着气说，“我们应该把他带回城堡，把他交给得蒙特，他会被送去阿兹克班，不要杀死他。” 
　　“哈利，”彼德吉雷喘息着叫着，将他的双臂抱在哈利的膝处，“你——太谢谢你了——那总好过抛下我——谢谢你。” 
　　“放开我，”哈利吐了他一口，厌恶的拨开彼德吉雷的双手，“我并不是为了你，才这样做的，我这样是因为，我不认为我爸爸会忍心看到他最好的朋友成为凶手——只是因为你。” 
　　没有人动，也没有人发出任何响声，除了彼德吉雷，他抓着胸部，吃力的呼吸着。巴拉克和露平对望了一下，同时垂下了魔杖。 
　　“你是唯—一个有权决定的人，哈利，”巴拉克说，“但是想一想，想一想他所做的一切……” 
　　“他可以去阿兹克班，”哈利重复道，“如果有人罪有应得到那个地方，他就是……” 
　　彼德吉雷仍然躲在他身后吃力的喘息着。 
　　“好吧！”露平说，“站在一边，哈利。” 
　　哈利迟疑着。 
　　“我要把他绑起来，”露平说，“就这些而已，我发誓。” 
　　哈利让到了一边，细绳这一次从露平的魔杖中射出。一会儿，彼得便躺在地上，嘴巴被塞住，身上绑了绳子。 
　　“但是如果你变形的话，彼得，”巴拉克吼道，他的魔杖对准着彼德吉雷，“我们就会杀了你。哈利，你同意吗？” 
　　哈利看了看这个躺在地板上的令人不忍的东西，点了点头，这情景彼德吉雷可以看到。 
　　“好吧！”露平说，“罗恩，和波姆弗雷夫人一样，我已经很难医好你的腿骨了，所以我想如果在到达医院之前，我们把你的腿用带子绑好就好了。” 
　　他急忙走近罗思，弯下腰，用他的魔杖敲着他的腿，咕哝道：“金属包带。” 
　　绷带一下子就绑在了他的腿上，将它紧紧地夹在夹板上。 
　　露平帮他站了起来，罗恩将他的体重放在未受伤的腿上。 
　　“现在好多了，”他说，“谢谢你。” 
　　“史纳皮教授怎么办呢？”荷米恩小声地问道。看着俯卧在地上的史纳皮。 
　　“他并没有什么大问题，”露平说，弯下腰去查看史纳皮的脉搏，“他只是有点太过激动，还没冷。嗯，最好等我们安全返回城堡之后再来弄醒他。我们可以这样做……” 
　　他
Chapter 22 Owl Post Again
“Harry!” 
Hermione was tugging at his sleeve, staring at her watch. “We've got exactly ten minutes to get back down to the hospital wing without anybody seeing us — before Dumbledore locks the door —” 
“Okay,” said Harry, wrenching his gaze from the sky, “let's go….” 
They slipped through the doorway behind them and down a tightly spiraling stone staircase. As they reached the bottom of it, they heard voices. They flattened themselves against the wall and listened. It sounded like Fudge and Snape. They were walking quickly along the corridor at the foot of the staircase. 
“… only hope Dumbledore's not going to make difficulties,” Snape was saying. “The Kiss will be performed immediately?” 
“As soon as Macnair returns with the Dementors. This whole Black affair has been highly embarrassing. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to informing the Daily Prophet that we've got him at last…. I daresay they'll want to interview you, Snape… and once young Harry's back in his right mind, I expect he'll want to tell the Prophet exactly how you saved him….” 
Harry clenched his teeth. He caught a glimpse of Snape's smirk as he and Fudge passed Harry and Hermione's hiding place. Their footsteps died away. Harry and Hermione waited a few moments to make sure they'd really gone, then started to run in the opposite direction. Down one staircase, then another, along a new corridor — then they heard a cackling ahead. 
“Peeves!” Harry muttered, grabbing Hermione's wrist. “In here!” 
They tore into a deserted classroom to their left just in time. Peeves seemed to be bouncing along the corridor in boisterous good spirits, laughing his head off. 
“Oh, he's horrible,” whispered Hermione, her ear to the door. “I bet he's all excited because the Dementors are going to finish off Sirius….” She checked her watch. “Three minutes, Harry!” 
They waited until Peeves's gloating voice had faded into the distance, then slid back out of the room and broke into a run again. 
“Hermione — what'll happen — if we don't get back inside before Dumbledore locks the door?” Harry panted. 
“I don't want to think about it!” Hermione moaned, checking her watch again. “One minute!” 
They had reached the end of the corridor with the hospital wing entrance. “Okay — I can hear Dumbledore,” said Hermione tensely. “Come on, Harry!” 
They crept along the corridor. The door opened. Dumbledore's back appeared. 
“I am going to lock you in,” they heard him saying. “it is five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck.” 
Dumbledore backed out of the room, closed the door, and took out his wand to magically lock it. Panicking, Harry and Hermione ran forward. Dumbledore looked up, and a wide smile appeared under the long silver mustache. “Well?” he said quietly. 
“We did it!” said Harry breathlessly. “Sirius has gone, on Buckbeak….” 
Dumbledore beamed at them. 
“Well done. I think —” He listened intently for any sound within the hospital wing. “Yes, I think you've gone too — get inside — I'll lock you in —” 
Harry and Hermione slipped back inside the dormitory. It was empty except for Ron, who was still lying motionless in the end bed. As the lock clicked behind them, Harry and Hermione crept back to their own beds, Hermione tucking the Time-Turner back under her robes. A moment later, Madam Pomfrey came striding back out of her office. 
“Did I hear the headmaster leaving? Am I allowed to look after my patients now?” 
She was in a very bad mood. Harry and Hermione thought it best to accept their chocolate quietly. Madam Pomfrey stood over them, making sure they ate it. But Harry could hardly swallow. He and Hermione were waiting, listening, their nerves jangling…. And then, as they both took a fourth piece of chocolate from Madam Pomfrey, they heard a distant roar of fury echoing from somewhere above them…. 
“What was that?” said Madam Pomfrey in alarm. 
Now they could hear angry voices, growing louder and louder. Madam Pomfrey was staring at the door. 
“Really — they'll wake everybody up! What do they think they're doing?” 
Harry was trying to hear what the voices were saying. They were drawing nearer — 
“He must have Disapparated, Severus. We should have left somebody in the room with him. When this gets out —” 
“HE DIDN'T DISAPPARATE!” Snape roared, now very close at hand. “YOU CAN'T APPARATE OR DISAPPARATE INSIDE THIS CASTLE! THIS — HAS — SOMETHING — TO — DO — WITH — POTTER!” 
“Severus — be reasonable — Harry has been locked up —” 
BAM. 
The door of the hospital wing burst open. 
Fudge, Snape, and Dumbledore came striding into the ward. Dumbledore alone looked calm. Indeed, he looked as though he was quite enjoying himself. Fudge appeared angry. But Snape was beside himself. 
“OUT WITH IT, POTTER!” he bellowed. “WHAT DID YOU DO?” 
“Professor Snape!” shrieked Madam Pomfrey. “Control yourself!” 
“See here, Snape, be reasonable,” said Fudge. “This door's been locked, we just saw —” 
“THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!” Snape howled, pointing at Harry and Hermione. His face was twisted; spit was flying from his mouth. 
“Calm down, man!” Fudge barked. “You're talking nonsense!” 
“YOU DON'T KNOW POTTER!” shrieked Snape. “HE DID IT, I KNOW HE DID IT —” 
“That will do, Severus,” said Dumbledore quietly. “Think about what you are saying. This door has been locked since I left the ward ten minutes ago. Madam Pomfrey, have these students left their beds?” 
“Of course not!” said Madam Pomfrey, bristling. “I would have heard them!” 
“Well, there you have it, Severus,” said Dumbledore calmly. “Unless you are suggesting that Harry and Hermione are able to be in two places at once, I'm afraid I don't see any point in troubling them further.” 
Snape stood there, seething, staring from Fudge, who looked thoroughly shocked at his behavior, to Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling behind his glasses. Snape whirled about, robes swishing behind him, and stormed out of the ward. 
“Fellow seems quite unbalanced,” said Fudge, staring after him. “I'd watch out for him if I were you, Dumbledore.” 
“Oh, he's not unbalanced,” said Dumbledore quietly. “He's just suffered a severe disappointment.” 
“He's not the only one!” puffed Fudge. “The Daily Prophet's going to have a field day! We had Black cornered and he slipped through our fingers yet again! All it needs now is for the story of that Hippogriff's escape to get out, and I'll be a laughingstock! Well… I'd better go and notify the Ministry…..” 
“And the Dementors?” said Dumbledore. “They'll be removed from the school, I trust?” 
“Oh yes, they'll have to go,” said Fudge, running his fingers distractedly through his hair. “Never dreamed they'd attempt to administer the Kiss on an innocent boy… Completely out of control… no, I'll have them packed off back to Azkaban tonight … Perhaps we should think about dragons at the school entrance….” 
“Hagrid would like that,” said Dumbledore, smiling at Harry and Hermione. As he and Fudge left the dormitory, Madam Pomfrey hurried to the door and locked it again. Muttering angrily to herself, she headed back to her office. 
There was a low moan from the other end of the ward. Ron had woken up. They could see him sitting up, rubbing his head, looking around. 
“What — what happened?” he groaned. “Harry? Why are we in here? Where's Sirius? Where's Lupin? What's going on?” 
Harry and Hermione looked at each other. 
“You explain,” said Harry, helping himself to some more chocolate. 
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　* 
When Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the hospital wing at noon the next day, it was to find an almost deserted castle. The sweltering, heat and the end of the exams meant that everyone was taking full advantage of another Hogsmeade visit. Neither Ron nor Hermione felt like going, however, so they and Harry wandered onto the grounds, still talking about the extraordinary events of the previous night and wondering where Sirius and Buckbeak were now. Sitting near the lake, watching the giant squid waving its tentacles lazily above the water, Harry lost the thread of the conversation as he looked across to the opposite bank. The stag had galloped toward him from there just last night…. 
A shadow fell across them and they looked up to see a very bleary-eyed Hagrid, mopping his sweaty face with one of his tablecloth-sized handkerchiefs and beaming down at them. 
“Know I shouldn’ feel happy, after wha’ happened las’ night,” he said. “I mean, Black escapin’ again, an, everythin’ — but guess what?” 
“What?” they said, pretending to look curious. 
“Beaky! He escaped! He's free! Bin celebratin’ all night!” 
“That's wonderful!” said Hermione, giving Ron a reproving look because he looked as though he was close to laughing. 
“Yeah… can't've tied him up properly,” said Hagrid, gazing happily out over the grounds. “I was worried this mornin', mind… thought he mighta met Professor Lupin on the grounds, but Lupin says he never ate anythin’ las’ night….” 
“What?” said Harry quickly. 
“Blimey, haven’ yeh heard?” said Hagrid, his smile fading a little. He lowered his voice, even though there was nobody in sight. “Er — Snape told all the Slytherins this mornin'…. Thought everyone'd know by now… Professor Lupin's a werewolf, see. An’ he was loose on the grounds las’ night…. He's packin’ now, o’ course.” 
“He's packing?” said Harry, alarmed. “Why?” 
“Leavin', isn’ he?” said Hagrid, looking surprised that Harry had to ask. “Resigned firs’ thing this mornin'. Says he can't risk it happenin again.” 
Harry scrambled to his feet. 
“I'm going to see him,” he said to Ron and Hermione. 
“But if he's resigned —” 
“– doesn't sound like there's anything we can do —” 
“I don't care. I still want to see him. I'll meet you back here.” 
Lupin's office door was open. He had already packed most of his things. The Grindylow's empty tank stood next to his battered old suitcase, which was open and nearly full. Lupin was bending over something on his desk and looked up only when Harry knocked on the door. 
“I saw you coming,” said Lupin, smiling. He pointed to the parchment he had been poring over. It was the Marauder's Map. 
“I just saw Hagrid,” said Harry. “And he said you'd resigned. It's not true, is it?” 
“I'm afraid it is,” said Lupin. He started opening his desk drawers and taking out the contents. 
“Why?” said Harry. “The Ministry of Magic don't think you were helping Sirius, do they?” 
Lupin crossed to the door and closed it behind Harry. 
“No. Professor Dumbledore managed to convince Fudge that I was trying to save your lives.” He sighed. “That was the final straw for Severus. I think the loss of the Order of Merlin hit him hard. So he — er — accidentally let slip that I am a werewolf this morning at breakfast.” 
“You're not leaving just because of that!” said Harry. 
Lupin smiled wryly. 
“This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents…. They will not want a werewolf teaching their children, Harry. And after last night, I see their point. I could have bitten any of you…. That must never happen again.” 
“You're the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had!” said Harry. “Don't go!” 
Lupin shook his head and didn't speak. He carried on emptying his drawers. Then, while Harry was trying to think of a good argument to make him stay, Lupin said, “From what the headmaster told me this morning, you saved a lot of lives last night, Harry. If I'm proud of anything I've done this year, it's how much you've learned…. Tell me about your Patronus.” 
“How d'you know about that?” said Harry, distracted. 
“What else could have driven the Dementors back?” 
Harry told Lupin what had happened. When he'd finished, Lupin was smiling again. 
“Yes, your father was always a stag when he transformed,” he said. “You guessed right… that's why we called him Prongs.” 
Lupin threw his last few books into his case, closed the desk drawers, and turned to look at Harry. 
“Here — I brought this from the Shrieking Shack last night,” he said, handing Harry back the Invisibility Cloak. “And…” He hesitated, then held out the Marauder's Map too. “I am no longer your teacher, so I don't feel guilty about giving you back this as well. It's no use to me, and I daresay you, Ron, and Hermione will find uses for it.” 
Harry took the map and grinned. 
“You told me Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs would've wanted to lure me out of school… you said they'd have thought it was funny.” 
“And so we would have,” said Lupin, now reaching down to close his case. “I have no hesitation in saying that James would have been highly disappointed if his son had never found any of the secret passages out of the castle.” 
There was a knock on the door. Harry hastily stuffed the Marauder's Map and the Invisibility Cloak into his pocket. 
It was Professor Dumbledore. He didn't look surprised to see Harry there. 
“Your carriage is at the gates, Remus,” he said. 
“Thank You, Headmaster.” 
Lupin picked up his old suitcase and the empty Grindylow tank. 
“Well — good-bye, Harry,” he said, smiling. “It has been a real pleasure teaching you. I feel sure we'll meet again sometime. Headmaster, there is no need to see me to the gates, I can manage….” 
Harry had the impression that Lupin wanted to leave as quickly as possible. 
“Good-bye, then, Remus,” said Dumbledore soberly. Lupin shifted the Grindylow tank slightly so that he and Dumbledore could shake hands. Then, with a final nod to Harry and a swift smile, Lupin left the office. 
Harry sat down in his vacated chair, staring glumly at the floor. He heard the door close and looked up. Dumbledore was still there. 
“Why so miserable, Harry?” he said quietly. “You should be very proud of yourself after last night.” 
“It didn't make any difference,” said Harry bitterly. “Pettigrew got away.” 
“Didn't make any difference?” said Dumbledore quietly, “It made all the difference in the world, Harry. You helped uncover the truth. You saved an innocent man from a terrible fate.” 
Terrible. Something stirred in Harry's memory. Greater and more terrible than ever before… Professor Trelawney's prediction! 
“Professor Dumbledore — yesterday, when I was having my Divination exam, Professor Trelawney went very — very strange.” 
“Indeed?” said Dumbledore. “Er — stranger than usual, you mean?” 
“Yes… her voice went all deep and her eyes rolled and she said … she said Voldemort's servant was going to set out to return to him before midnight…. She said the servant would help him come back to power.” Harry stared up at Dumbledore. “And then she sort of became normal again, and she couldn't remember anything she'd said. Was it — was she making a real prediction?” 
Dumbledore looked mildly impressed. 
“Do you know, Harry, I think she might have been.” he said thoughtfully. “Who'd have thought it? That brings her total of real predictions up to two. I should offer her a pay raise….” 
“But —” Harry looked at him, aghast. How could Dumbledore take this so calmly? 
“But — I stopped Sirius and Professor Lupin from killing Pettigrew! That makes it my fault if Voldemort comes back!” 
“It does not,” said Dumbledore quietly. “Hasn't your experience with the Time-Turner taught you anything, Harry? The consequences of our actions are always so complicated, so diverse, that predicting the future is a very difficult business indeed…. Professor Trelawney, bless her, is living proof of that…. You did a very noble thing, in saving Pettigrew's life.” 
“But if he helps Voldemort back to power…” 
“Pettigrew owes his life to you. You have sent Voldemort a deputy who is in your debt…. When one wizard saves another wizard's life, it creates a certain bond between them… and I'm much mistaken if Voldemort wants his servant in the debt of Harry Potter.” 
“I don't want a connection with Pettigrew!” said Harry. “He betrayed my parents!” 
“This is magic at its deepest, its most impenetrable, Harry. But trust me… the time may come when you will be very glad you saved Pettigrew's life.” 
Harry couldn't imagine when that would be. Dumbledore looked as though he knew what Harry was thinking. 
“I knew your father very well, both at Hogwarts and later, Harry,” he said gently. “He would have saved Pettigrew too, I am sure of it.” 
Harry looked up at him. Dumbledore wouldn't laugh — he could tell Dumbledore… 
“I thought it was my dad who'd conjured my Patronus. I mean, when I saw myself across the lake … I thought I was seeing him.” 
“An easy mistake to make,” said Dumbledore softly. “I expect you'll tire of hearing it, but you do look extraordinarily like James. Except for the eyes… you have your mother's eyes.” 
Harry shook his head. 
“It was stupid, thinking it was him,” he muttered. “I mean, I knew he was dead.” 
“You think the dead we loved ever truly leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble? Your father is alive in you, Harry, and shows himself most plainly when you have need of him. How else could you produce that particular Patronus? Prongs rode again last night.” 
It took a moment for Harry to realize what Dumblefore had said. 
“Last night Sirius told me all about how they became Animagi,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “An extraordinary achievement — not least, keeping it quiet from me. And then I remembered the most unusual form your Patronus took, when it charged Mr. Malfoy down at your Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. You know, Harry, in a way, you did see your father last night…. You found him inside yourself.” 
And Dumbledore left the office, leaving Harry to his very confused thoughts. 
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　* 
Nobody at Hogwarts now knew the truth of what had happened the night that Sirius, Buckbeak, and Pettigrew had vanished except Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Professor Dumbledore. As the end of term approached, Harry heard many different theories about what had really happened, but none of them came close to the truth. 
Malfoy was furious about Buckbeak. He was convinced that Hagrid had found a way of smuggling the Hippogriff to safety, and seemed outraged that he and his father had been outwitted by a gamekeeper. Percy Weasley, meanwhile, had much to say on the subject of Sirius's escape. 
“If I manage to get into the Ministry, I'll have a lot of proposals to make about Magical Law Enforcement!” he told the only person who would listen — his girlfriend, Penelope. 
Though the weather was perfect, though the atmosphere was so cheerful, though he knew they had achieved the near impossible in helping Sirius to freedom, Harry had never approached the end of a school year in worse spirits. 
He certainly wasn't the only one who was sorry to see Professor Lupin go. The whole of Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts class was miserable about his resignation. 
“Wonder what they'll give us next year?” said Seamus Finnigan gloomily. 
“Maybe a vampire,” suggested Dean Thomas hopefully. 
It wasn't only Professor Lupin's departure that was weighing on Harry's mind. He couldn't help thinking a lot about Professor Trelawney's prediction. He kept wondering where Pettigrew was now, whether he had sought sanctuary with Voldemort yet. But the thing that was lowering Harry's spirits most of all was the prospect of returning to the Dursleys. For maybe half an hour, a glorious half hour, he had believed he would be living with Sirius from now on…his parents’ best friend…It would have been the next best thing to having his own father back. And while no news of Sirius was definitely good news, because it meant he had successfully gone into hiding, Harry couldn't help feeling miserable when he thought of the home he might have had, and the fact that it was now impossible. 
The exam results came out on the last day of term. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had passed every subject. Harry was amazed that he had got through Potions. He had a shrewd suspicion that Dumbledore might have stepped in to stop Snape failing him on purpose. Snape's behavior toward Harry over the past week had been quite alarming. Harry wouldn't have thought it possible that Snape's dislike for him could increase, but it certainly had. A muscle twitched unpleasantly at the corner of Snape's thin mouth every time he looked at Harry, and he was constantly flexing his fingers, as though itching to place them around Harry's throat. 
Percy had got his top-grade N.E.W.T.s; Fred and George had scraped a handful of O.W.L.s each. Gryffindor House, meanwhile, largely thanks to their spectacular performance in the Quidditch Cup, had won the House championship for the third year running. This meant that the end of term feast took place amid decorations of scarlet and gold, and that the Gryffindor table was the noisiest of the lot, as everybody celebrated. Even Harry managed to forget about the journey back to the Dursleys the next day as he ate, drank, talked, and laughed with the rest. 
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　* 
As the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station the next morning, Hermione gave Harry and Ron some surprising news. 
“I went to see Professor McGonagall this morning, just before breakfast. I've decided to drop Muggle Studies.” 
“But you passed your exam with three hundred and twenty percent!” said Ron. 
“I know,” sighed Hermione, “but I can't stand another year like this one. That Time-Turner, it was driving me mad. I've handed it in. Without Muggle Studies and Divination, I'll be able to have a normal schedule again.” 
“I still can't believe you didn't tell us about it,” said Ron grumpily. “We're supposed to be your friends.” 
“I promised I wouldn't tell anyone,” said Hermione severely. She looked around at Harry, who was watching Hogwarts disappear from view behind a mountain. Two whole months before he'd see it again…. 
“Oh, cheer up, Harry!” said Hermione sadly. 
“I'm okay,” said Harry quickly. “Just thinking about the holidays.” 
“Yeah, I've been thinking about them too,” said Ron. “Harry, you've got to come and stay with us. I'll fix it up with Mum and Dad, then I'll call you. I know how to use a fellytone now —” 
“A telephone, Ron,” said Hermione. “Honestly, you should take Muggle Studies next year….” 
Ron ignored her. 
“It's the Quidditch World Cup this summer! How about it, Harry? Come and stay, and we'll go and see it! Dad can usually get tickets from work.” 
This proposal had the effect of cheering Harry up a great deal. 
“Yeah… I bet the Dursleys'd be pleased to let me come… especially after what I did to Aunt Marge….” 
Feeling considerably more cheerful, Harry joined Ron and Hermione in several games of Exploding Snap, and when the witch with the tea cart arrived, he bought himself a very large lunch, though nothing with chocolate in it. 
But it was late in the afternoon before the thing that made him truly happy turned up…. 
“Harry,” said Hermione suddenly, peering over his shoulder. “What's that thing outside your window?” 
Harry turned to look outside. Something very small and gray was bobbing in and out of sight beyond the glass. He stood up for a better look and saw that it was a tiny owl, carrying a letter that was much too big for it. The owl was so small, in fact, that it kept tumbling over in the air, buffeted this way and that in the train's slipstream. Harry quickly pulled down the window, stretched out his arm, and caught it. It felt like a very fluffy Snitch. He brought it carefully inside. 
The owl dropped its letter onto Harry's seat and began zooming around their compartment, apparently very pleased with itself for accomplishing its task. Hedwig clicked her beak with a sort of dignified disapproval. Crookshanks sat up in his seat, following the owl with his great yellow eyes. Ron, noticing this, snatched the owl safely out of harm's way. 
Harry picked up the letter. It was addressed to him. He ripped open the letter, and shouted, “It's from Sirius!” 
“What?” said Ron and Hermione excitedly. “Read it aloud!” 
Dear Harry, I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle. I don't know whether they're used to owl post. Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I won't tell you where, in case this owl falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubt about his reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job. I believe the Dementors are still searching for me, but they haven't a hope of finding me here. I am planning to allow some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security on the castle will be lifted. There is something I never got around to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt — “Ha!” said Hermione triumphantly. “See! I told you it was from him!” 
“Yes, but he hadn't jinxed it, had he?” said Ron. “Ouch!” The tiny owl now hooting happily in his hand, had nibbled one of his fingers in what it seemed to think was an affectionate way. 
– Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I used your name but told them to take the gold from my own Gringotts vault. Please consider it as thirteen birthdays’ worth of presents from your godfather. I would also like to apologize for the fright I think I gave you that night last year when you left your uncle's house. I had only hoped to get a glimpse of you before starting my journey north, but I think the sight of me alarmed you. I am enclosing something else for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable. If ever you need me, send word. Your owl will find me. I'll write again soon. Sirius Harry looked eagerly inside the envelope. There was another piece of parchment in there. He read it through quickly and felt suddenly as warm and contented as though he'd swallowed a bottle of hot butterbeer in one gulp. 
I, Sirius Black, Harry Potter's godfather, hereby give him permission to visit Hogsmeade on weekends. “That'll be good enough for Dumbledore!” said Harry happily. He looked back at Sirius's letter. “Hang on, there's a PS….” I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it's my fault he no longer has a rat. Ron's eyes widened. The minute owl was still hooting excitedly. “Keep him?” he said uncertainly. He looked closely at the owl for a moment; then, to Harry's and Hermione's great surprise, he held him out for Crookshanks to sniff. 
“What do you reckon?” Ron asked the cat. “Definitely an owl?” 
Crookshanks purred. 
“That's good enough for me,” said Ron happily. “He's mine.” 
Harry read and reread the letter from Sirius all the way back into King's Cross station. It was still clutched tightly in his hand as he, Ron, and Hermione stepped back through the barrier of platform nine and three-quarters. Harry spotted Uncle Vernon at once. He was standing a good distance from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, eyeing them suspiciously, and when Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry in greeting, his worst suspicions about them seemed confirmed. 
“I'll call about the World Cup!” Ron yelled after Harry as Harry bid him and Hermione good-bye, then wheeled the trolley bearing his trunk and Hedwig's cage toward Uncle Vernon, who greeted him in his usual fashion. 
“What's that?” he snarled, staring at the envelope Harry was still clutching in his hand. “If it's another form for me to sign, you've got another —” 
“It's not,” said Harry cheerfully. “It's a letter from my godfather.” 
“Godfather?” sputtered Uncle Vernon. “You haven't got a godfather!” 
“Yes, I have,” said Harry brightly. “He was my mum and dad's best friend. He's a convicted murderer, but he's broken out of wizard prison and he's on the run. He likes to keep in touch with me, though … keep up with my news … check if I'm happy …” 
And, grinning broadly at the look of horror on Uncle Vernon's face, Harry set off toward the station exit, Hedwig rattling along in front of him, for what looked like a much better summer than the last. 
“哈利！” 
　　荷米恩拉了拉他的袖子，看着她的手表。“我们只有十分钟不被人发现地返回病房——在丹伯多锁上门之前——” 
　　“好吧！”哈利说，将他的目光从天空转回，“我们走吧！” 
　　他们溜进他们身后的门道，沿着螺旋式的楼梯走下去。就在他们要下到底部的时候，他们听到了有人说话的声音。他们紧紧地把身体贴在墙上，小心地听着，听起来好像是法治和史纳皮，他们正在快步地沿着楼梯底下的走廊走着。 
　　“……但愿丹伯多不会搞出什么麻烦，”史纳皮说，“亲吻马上就要执行了。” 
　　“等到得蒙特和马可尼尔一回来，案子就了结了。巴拉克的整件案子实在是大费周折，我无法告诉你我是多么地希望马上通知《先知日报》我们抓住了巴拉克… 
　　…我敢说他们会非常愿意访问你，史纳皮……而且一旦小哈利恢复理智，我要他自愿明白地告诉预言家你是如何救他的……“ 
　　哈利咬紧牙关。当史纳皮和法治走过他和荷米恩所藏的地方时，哈刮看见了史纳皮脸上的一丝好笑。他们的脚步声消失了。哈利和荷米恩等了一会儿确信他们真的已经走开了，便急忙跑向了相反的方向。跑下了一段楼梯，然后是另一段，到了一个走廊——然后他们听到前面传来一阵暗笑声。皮维斯朝哈利这边走来，哈利一下子抓着荷米恩的手腕，“到这儿来。” 
　　他们及时地躲进了一个废弃的教室，皮维斯看起来兴高采烈地沿着走廊连蹦带跳，笑得头都快掉了。 
　　“哦，他真恐怖，”荷米思小声说，她的耳朵贴在门上，“我猜他肯定快高兴死了，因为得蒙特就会未结束西里斯……”她查看了一下手表，“还有三分钟，哈利！” 
　　他们一直等到皮维斯那嘶哑的叫声消失在远处，然后溜出课室又开始狂奔。 
　　“荷米恩——会发生什么——如果我们不能及时地赶到里面——在丹伯多锁上门之前？”哈利喘着气说。 
　　“我不去想这个问题！”荷米恩低声说，又看了一下表，“还有一分钟。” 
　　他们终于到达了走廊口病房的门口。“好了——我可以听见丹怕多的脚步声了，” 
　　荷米恩急紧说，“快点，哈利！” 
　　他们沿着走廊跑着。门打开了。丹伯多的背影出现了。 
　　“我将要把你们锁起来。”他们听到他说，“还有五分钟就要到午夜了。格林佐小姐，三个转圈就可以了，祝你好运。” 
　　丹伯多背对着他们走了出来，关上了门，拿出手杖借助魔法将它锁好。喘着气，哈利和荷米恩向前跑来。丹伯多抬起了头，一个宽心的笑出现在他那银色的长胡子下面。“好了吗？”他轻声问。 
　　“我们做完了！”哈利屏住呼吸说，“西里斯已经走了……骑着毕克碧。” 
　　丹伯多向他们微笑着。 
　　“做得好，我想——”他聆听着病房里的动静，“我想，我想他们已经走了，进去吧——我会把你们锁起来的。” 
　　哈利和荷米恩溜进了病房，里面除了罗恩，没有其它人，他仍然神志不清地躺在里面的床上。当门锁“咯嚓”一声锁上的时候。 
　　哈利和荷米恩回到自己的床上，荷米恩将时间转换器塞回到自己的袍子里。紧接着，波姆弗雷夫人大步地从她的办公室走回来。 
　　“我是不是听到丹伯多已经离开了？我是不是可以现在来照顾我的病人了呢？” 
　　她的情绪很差，哈利和荷米恩想他们最好安静地吃下她的巧克力。波姆弗雷夫人站在他们身边直到确信他们已经吃下了它。但是哈利简直咽不下，他和荷米恩都在等待着，聆听着，他们的神经都在高度紧张着……然后，当他们吃下波姆弗雷夫人递过来的第四块巧克力时，他们听到远处传来了一声愤怒的爆叫声回响在他们上方…… 
　　“怎么回事？”夫人吃惊地说。 
　　现在他们听到那愤怒的声音变得越来越大了，波姆弗雷夫人盯着门口。 
　　“真是的——他们会把人们都吵醒的！他们以为他们在干什么？” 
　　哈利努力地听着那些说话的声音，它们越来越近了——“他肯定是逃走了，史纳皮，我应当留下人在里面看着他。当事情发生时——” 
　　“他没有逃走！”史纳皮咆哮着，现在离他们已经很近了。“他不可能从这个城堡逃入和逃出！这件事肯定和波特有关！” 
　　“史纳皮，——理智点——哈利被锁起来了——” 
　　“嘣——” 
　　病房的门突然打开了。 
　　法治、史纳皮还有丹伯多大踏步地走进来。只有丹伯多看起来很平静。的确如此，他看起来相当的开心。法治则显得很愤怒，但是史纳皮的愤怒是在内心的。 
　　“说出来，波特！”他大喊着，“你都做了什么？” 
　　“史纳皮教授！”波姆弗雷夫人尖叫着，“请控制好你自己！” 
　　“看一看，史纳皮，理智点，”法治说，“这个门是锁着的，我们刚看见——” 
　　“他们帮助他逃走的，我知道！”史纳皮嗥叫着，指着哈利和荷米恩，他的脸扭曲着，吐沫横飞地。 
　　“安静下来，你！”法治狂叫着，“你正在胡说八道。” 
　　“你根本不了解波特！”史纳皮尖叫着，“他做的，我知道是他做的。” 
　　“这一切已经说明了，史纳皮，”丹伯多平静地说。“想想你正在说些什么，自从十分钟以前我离开病房的时候，门就已经锁上了，波姆弗雷夫人，这些学生有没有离开过他们的床？” 
　　“当然没有！”波姆弗雷夫人气得头发都竖起来了，“自打你离开以后，我就一直和他们在一起。” 
　　“好吧！听见了吗？史纳皮，”丹伯多平静地说，“除非你是指哈利和荷米恩可以同时在两个地方出现，我想我们没有再继续打扰他们的理由了。” 
　　史纳皮站在那儿，火冒三丈，绕过从法治盯向丹伯多。法治完全被他的行为震惊了，而丹伯多的眼睛在眼镜后面闪闪发光。史纳皮发晕了，袍子在它身后飘动，像风暴似的走出病房。 
　　“他看起来很不对劲，”法治说，“从后面盯向他。如果我是你，丹伯多，我会盯着他的。” 
　　“哦，他并不是不对劲。”丹伯多平静的说，“他只是太失望了。” 
　　“你并不是唯一的一个。”法治粗声粗气地说，《先知日报》就要来专访了，我们抓住了巴拉克，可现在又让他从我们的手中溜走了！现在我们所要做的就是如何告诉别人巴拉克逃走的事，我们肯定会被嘲笑的……我最好现在就走去通知部里。 
　　“”还有得蒙特，“丹伯多说，”他们会离开学校的，我相信？“ 
　　“是的，他们就得走了，”法治说，心烦意乱的用手指挠着头发。“我决不会让他们对无辜的孩子们实施亲吻的——完全出乎意料……不，我要让他们今晚就整装返回阿兹克班。也许我们应当想想在学校门口的……” 
　　“哈格力会乐意的。”丹伯多说，轻快的朝哈利和荷米恩笑了一下。当他的法治离开病房时，波姆弗雷夫人匆忙走到门口又把它锁上，愤怒地自言自语着走回她的办公室。 
　　在病房的另一边传来一声微弱的呻吟，罗恩醒来了，他们看到他坐起来，抓着他的头向四处看着。 
　　“什么——发生了什么？”他咕哝着，“哈利？为什么我们会在这里？西里斯在哪儿？露平在哪儿？究竟发生了什么？” 
　　哈利和荷米恩看着对方。 
　　“你来说吧！”哈利说，大口地吃起巧克力。 
　　当哈利、罗恩和荷米恩在第二天中午离开病房时，他们看到一个几乎被遗弃的城堡。令人难以忍受的炎热和考试的结束，使每一个人都有机会享受一下下一个学期到来之前的时光、不管是罗恩还是荷米恩都不想离开，所以他们和哈利一起在旷地上闲着，仍然谈论著前一天晚上所发生的不寻常的事情，想着西里斯和毕克碧现在可能呆在哪儿。坐在湖边，看着一只巨大的鱿鱼慵懒地摇动着它的触须，当哈利看问对岸的时候，他陷入了沉思。就在昨天晚上，那只牡鹿向他跑来…… 
　　一个人影投在他们前方，他们抬头看到了双眼模糊的哈格力，用他那像桌布一样大的手帕擦着脸上的汗，朝他们微笑着。 
　　“经过昨天晚上所发生的一切，我知道我不应当高兴，”他说，“我是说，巴拉克又逃走了，呃，但是有一件事——猜猜是什么？” 
　　“什么？”他们说，装作很好奇的样子。 
　　“毕克碧！他逃走了！他自由了，毕克碧庆祝了整整一个晚上！” 
　　“太好了！”荷米恩说，丢给罗恩一个责备的眼神因为他几乎快要笑出来了。 
　　“是啊……是不是我没有绑好它，”哈格力说，快活地望过旷地，“但是露平说他昨晚什么也没有吃……” 
　　“什么？”哈利匆忙地说。 
　　“哈利，你没听说吗？”哈格力说，他的笑容消失了一些，他压低了自己的声音，即使没有任何人在他的视线中，“呃——今天早上，史纳皮告诉所有史林德林的人……我想现在大家都知道了…… 
　　露平教授是只人狼，昨晚，他在旷地上乱走，当然，他现在正在打点行装。“”他正在打点行装？“哈利吃惊地问，”为什么？“ 
　　“离开这里，不是吗？”哈格力说，很吃惊哈利会这样问，“今天一早地他就辞职了，说他不想让类似的事情再发生了。” 
　　哈利尖叫着站起来“我们要去找他！”他对罗恩和荷米恩说。 
　　“但是如果他已经辞职了——” 
　　“——听起来好像我们做不了什么了——” 
　　“我不在乎。我仍然要去见他，我会回来见你们的。” 
　　露平办公室的门打开着，他已经差不多准备好了。格林洛斯的空箱子就放在他那破烂不堪的旧皮箱的旁边，打开着而且快要装满了。露平正在整理他桌子上面的东西，当哈利敲门的时候他才抬起头来。 
　　“我看见你来了。”露平笑着说，他指了指他正在整理的羊皮纸，是掠夺者的地图册。 
　　“我刚才见到哈格力，”哈利说，“他告诉我说你已经辞职了，这不是真的，对吗？” 
　　“恐怕是这样。”露平说，他打开抽屉拿出了里面的东西。 
　　“为什么？”哈利问，“魔法部并不认为是你在帮助西里斯，不是吗？” 
　　露平走到门边，在哈利的身后关上了它。 
　　“不是的，丹伯多教授试着说服法治我是想救你们的。”他叹了口气说，“这是史纳皮的最后一招了。我想失去莫妮对他的打击很大。所以，他——一不小心在今天早饭的时候把我是人狼的事说了出来。” 
　　“你并不会因为这而离开的！”哈利说。 
　　露乎无奈地笑了笑。 
　　“明天这个时候，猫头鹰会从家长那里到来。他们不会愿意让一只人狼来教他们的孩子的，哈利，而且经过昨天晚上，我也意识到了：我可能会咬到你们当中的任何一个人……这永远也不会再发生了。” 
　　“你是最好的黑巫术防御老师。”哈利说，“请不要走！” 
　　露平摆了摆手但是没有说话。他拿着那个空抽屉。然后，正当哈利试着想出一个更好的理由使他留下的时候，露平说：“今天早上校长告诉我，昨天晚上你救了很多人的命。哈利，假如我为什么事情而骄傲的话，那就是你所学到的东西。告诉我关于你的吧卓泥斯。” 
　　“你怎么会知道这些的？”哈利问，被搞糊涂了。 
　　“还有谁能赶走得蒙特呢？” 
　　哈利告诉了露平所发生的一切。当他讲完时，露平又笑了起来。 
　　“是的，你父亲每次变形时总会变成一只牡鹿，”他说，“你猜得很对……这是我们为什么叫他‘布朗’。” 
　　露平将他的最后几本书扔入箱子里，关上了桌子上的抽屉，然后转身看着哈利。 
　　“在这儿——我昨晚把它从什拉市。刹克带回来的，”他说，将隐形斗篷递给哈利，“还有…”他迟疑着，然后拿出掠夺者地图。 
　　“我不再是你的老师了，所以我并不在乎把这本书送给你，它对我来说已经没用了，我敢说，你和罗恩，还有荷米恩会发现它的用途的。” 
　　哈利微笑着接过地图。 
　　“你告诉我莫妮，温特尔，彼弗，还有拜朗永远不会愿意引诱我离开学校…… 
　　你说他们会认为这很滑稽。“ 
　　“因此我们会这样做，”露平说，一边伸出手去关上了箱子，“我可以毫不犹豫地说杰姆斯会非常失望的，如果他的儿子从没有找到过任何可以离开城堡的秘密通道。” 
　　这时，传来了一声敲门声。哈利急忙将掠夺者地图和隐形斗篷塞进他的口袋里。 
　　是丹伯多教授。他看见哈利在这里并不吃惊。 
　　“你的马车就在门口，露平。”他说。 
　　“谢谢你，校长。” 
　　露平提起了他的旧皮箱和空荡荡的格林洛斯箱子。 
　　“好吧——再见，哈利。”他笑着说，“做你的老师真的很令我愉快，我相信我们什么时候还会再见面的。校长，不用到门口去送我了，我应付得来……” 
　　哈利感觉到露平好像是想尽快离开这里。 
　　“再见，那么，露平。”丹伯多严肃地说。露平将格林洛斯箱子轻轻地移开了一些，以便和丹怕多握手。然后，最后冲哈利点了下头，轻快笑了一下，露平离开了办公室。 
　　哈利坐在了一张空椅子上，沮丧地看着地板。他听到门关上的声音，抬起了头。 
　　丹伯多仍然呆在那儿。 
　　“为什么这么悲伤呢？哈利。”他轻声问，“经过昨晚的事，你应该为自己骄傲才对。” 
　　“这并没有什么不同的，”哈利痛苦地说，“彼德吉雷逃走了。” 
　　“没有什么不同的？”丹伯多轻声问，“实在是最大的不同啊！ 
　　哈利。你帮助查出了真相，你帮助一个无辜的人逃脱了可怖的命运。“”可怖的，“哈利记忆中的什么事被搅起了”比以前更大，而且更恐怖……“ 
　　特雷络尼教授的预言。 
　　“丹伯多教授——昨天，当我正在进行占卜术考试时，特雷络尼教授变得非常，非常的奇怪。”“真的吗？”丹伯多问，“比往常奇怪，你是指？” 
　　“是的，她的声音变得非常低沉，她的眼睛圆瞪着，而且她说……她说福尔得摩特的手下正打算在午夜之前回到他身边……她说那些手下会帮助他东山再起。” 
　　哈利盯着丹伯多，“然后，她又变得正常了，但是她记不起她说了些什么。是不是——是不是她预言了什么？” 
　　丹伯多看起来并不很在意。 
　　“知道吗？哈利，我想她也许预言了什么，”他沉思着说，“谁愿意去想这些呢？这使她预言的全部归于两种结果，我想我应当给她增加薪水。” 
　　“但是——”哈利看着他，张大了嘴，丹伯多怎么可以这么平静地对待这件事呢？ 
　　“但是——我阻止西里斯和露平教授杀死彼德吉雷！这是我的错，如果福尔得摩特卷土重来！” 
　　“不会的，”丹伯多平静地说，“难道你使用时间转换器的经验还没让你知道一些东西吗？哈利。我们做事的因与果是相当复杂的，多变的，所以预测未来实在是一件相当复杂的事……特雷络尼教授，这是一个活生生的证据，你做了一件高贵的事，救了彼德吉雷的命。” 
　　“但是如果他帮助福尔得摩特重新纠集力量——” 
　　“彼德吉雷欠你一条命。你将一个欠你债的人当作代表派到了福尔得摩特那里。 
　　当一个魔法师救了另一个魔法师的性命的时候，他们之间便产生了某种联系……同时我会非常疑惑如果福尔得摩特还让他的手下找哈利·波特复仇。“ 
　　“我不想与彼德吉雷有任何关系！”哈利说，“他出卖了我的父母。” 
　　“这是最深层的法力，最无法看透的，哈利，但是请相信我……迟早你会为你救了彼德吉雷一命而高兴的。” 
　　哈利无法想象这种情况什么时候才会到来，丹伯多看起来好像是看透了哈利的心思似的。 
　　“我非常了解你爸爸，不论是在霍格瓦彻的时候还是后来，”丹伯多说，他说，“他也会救彼德吉雷的，我相信这一点。” 
　　哈利抬头望着他，丹伯多没有笑——是应该告诉他了。 
　　“昨天晚上，我以为那是我爸爸变出了吧卓尼斯。我是指当我看见我自己穿过湖面的时候……我以为我看见的是他。” 
　　“这种错误很容易犯的，”丹伯多柔声说，“我想你可能不想再听别人这样讲，但是你真的很像你爸爸……除了你的眼睛……那看起来像你妈妈的。” 
　　哈利摇了摇头。 
　　“太愚蠢了，认为那是他，”他咕哝着，“我是说我明明知道他已经死了。” 
　　“你认为我们所深爱着的去世的人会真的离开我们吗？你不认为在你遇到麻烦时，你会更强烈地想起他们吗？但爸爸活在你的心里，哈利，而且他会在你最需要他的时候现身。否则的话，你怎么能变出吧卓泥斯呢？昨天晚上，帕特纳斯又跑来了。” 
　　哈利花了一段时间才搞清楚丹伯多在说什么。 
　　“西里斯告诉了我昨天有关他们变成动物的所有的事，”丹伯多说，笑了笑。 
　　“非常了不起的成果——只是，没有让我知道。然后我记起了你的吧卓泥斯出现的不寻常的样子，但它在快迪斯比赛中击倒了卫文卡罗队的马尔夫先生。因此你昨天晚上的确是看到了你爸爸。哈利，你发现他仍活在你的心目中。” 
　　于是丹伯多离开了办公室，留下哈利一片雾水。 
　　除了罗恩、哈利、荷米恩，还有丹伯多教授以外，霍格瓦彻没有人知道西里斯和毕克碧失踪的那天晚上究竟发生了些什么。当学期末到来的时候，哈利已经听到过了很多关于究竟发生了些什么的传说，但是没有一个与事实相接近。 
　　马尔夫对毕克碧的事很恼火，他确信是哈格力发现了一个偷运走毕克碧的方法，而且看起来很气愤他和他的父亲被一个禽猎看守人以狡计骗过。与此同时，伯希。 
　　威斯里则关于西里斯逃跑的事情有诸多说辞。 
　　“如果我想办法进入部里，我就会有很多提议去促使魔法法典生效！”他对唯—一个肯听他讲话的人说——他的女朋友，潘妮璐。 
　　尽管天气相当的好，尽管周围的气氛是那么愉快，尽管他知道他们已经取得了几乎是不可能的胜利，在帮助西里斯恢复自由的事上，哈利从来没有这么颓丧地过到学期的末尾。 
　　他当然不是唯一的一个为露平教授的离去而难过的人。整个哈利班上的人都拥护他充满希望的建议。 
　　不仅仅是露平教授的辞职使哈利郁郁寡欢，他还总时不时想起特雷络尼教授的预言。他总是在想现在彼德吉雷究竟身在何处。他是否已经找到了福尔得摩特所在的圣地。但是最令哈利难受的事还是回到杜斯利家的事。在大约半个小时的时间内，让别人欣喜的半个小时内，他认为从那以后就会同西里斯住在一起了……他父母最好的朋友……那是除了能和爸爸在一起之外最好的事情了。然而没有西里斯的消息又意味着最好的消息，因为这意味着他成功逃避了追踪。哈利总是不由地难过当他想起那个他可能会拥有的家，从现在看来，那已经是不可能的了…… 
　　考试结果在学期末的最后一天出来了。罗恩、哈利和荷米恩每门功课都过了关。 
　　哈利很惊讶他通过了“药水”这门功课。他猜想肯定是丹伯多插足使得史纳皮无法有意的使他过不了。史纲皮过去几周对哈利的态度糟的令人惊讶。哈利从不认为史纳皮对他的厌恶还会有所增加，但事情正是这样。每一次当史纳皮看见哈利时，他那瘦削的嘴角总有一块肌肉不自然地扭曲着，他不时的弯曲他的手指，好像是渴望用它们掐住哈利的喉咙。 
　　伯希在N.E.WT.S考试中取得了最高分，弗来德和乔治每一个人都擦掉了整整一把O.W.L.S，与此同时，格林芬顿学院——绝大多数归功于他们在快迪斯杯中引人入胜的表演——第三年赢得了冠军杯。这也意味着学期末的宴会将会在一片猩红与金色中举行，而且格林芬顿餐桌将会是在众人的庆祝声中最嘈杂的一个，当哈利与别人一起吃喝、谈笑的时候，他尽力使自己忘记第二天要回到杜斯利家的事。 
　　当第二天，霍格瓦彻特快开出火车站的时候，荷米恩给罗恩和哈利带来了令他们吃惊的消息。 
　　“我今天早上去见麦康娜教授了，就在早饭之前，我决定退出马格人的学习了。” 
　　“但是你以320分通过了考试啊！”罗恩说。 
　　“我知道。”荷米恩叹了口气说，“但是我无法忍受下一年也像这样度过。时间转换器简直要令我发疯了，我已经把它交上去了。 
　　没有马格人和分身术课程，我又可以有一个正常的时间表了。“”我无法相信你竟然没有告诉我们这些，“罗恩气急败坏地说，”我还以为我们是你的朋友呢！“ 
　　“我保证我没有告诉过其它人。”荷米恩严肃地说，她看了看哈利，他正在注视着霍格瓦彻从一座山后面消失。在两个月之前他已经看过…… 
　　“哦，高兴起来吧，哈利！”荷米恩同情地说。 
　　“我很好，”哈利急忙回答，“只是在想假期怎么过。” 
　　“是啊！我也一直在想这些呢，”罗恩说，“哈利你可以来我们家一起住。我会搞定爸爸妈妈的，然后我就给你打电话，现在我已经知道怎么使用了——” 
　　“电话，罗恩，”荷术思说，“说实话，下一年你应该选马格人……” 
　　罗恩并没有理会她。 
　　“这个夏天将会有快迪斯世界杯赛！怎么样？哈利，来我家住吧！我们一起去看，父亲一般都可以搞到票。” 
　　这个建议使哈利极大地振奋了起来。 
　　“是呀……我猜杜斯利一家肯定会高兴我去的，尤其是自从我为玛各姨妈所做的……” 
　　感觉到相当的兴奋，哈利和罗恩和荷米恩一起加入了几个游戏。然后当女巫推着装着茶点的手推车走过来的时候，他吃了饱饱的一餐，尽管那里面没有巧克力。 
　　但是直到那天下午，才发生了一件真的令哈利高兴的事…… 
　　“哈利，”荷米恩突然说，眼睛透过他的肩膀上方，“是什么东西在你的窗户外面？” 
　　哈利转头看向外面，一个很小的，灰色的身影在窗外上下飞动着，一会儿出现，一会儿又消失，他站起来想看清楚，那是一个很小的猫头鹰，带着一封对它来说太大的信。这个猫头鹰实在太小了，事实上，它在空中飘动着，在火车形成的气流中时左时右地抖动着。哈利急忙拉开窗户，伸出手臂抓住它，它摸起来毛茸茸的。 
　　他小心翼翼地把它拿进来。猫头鹰将信扔到哈利的坐位上，然后在他们的包厢里飞上飞下，显然是为自己完成了任务而高兴。克路殊克端坐在座位上，用它那双大大的黄眼盯着猫头鹰。罗恩注意到这些，急忙抓住猫头鹰，使它远离危险。 
　　哈利捡起了信，是写给他的，他拆开信，大声说道：“是西里斯。” 
　　“什么？”罗恩和荷米恩兴奋的说，“念出来。” 
　　亲爱的哈利：我希望这只猎头鹰能在你见到你姨丈和姨妈之前找到你。我不知道他们是否可以适应猫头鹰邮件。 
　　毕克碧和我藏得很好。我不会告诉你我们在哪儿以防这封信落到别人手里。我有点怀疑这只猫头鹰的可信赖性。但是，它是我能够找到的最好的，而且它对这份工作很热心。 
　　我相信得蒙特仍然在搜寻我，但是他们根本没希望找到我。我正打算让一些马格人不久以后见见我，在距离霍格瓦彻很远的地方，以便城堡的安全得以保证。 
　　这里还有一件事我一直无法在我们短促的相见中告诉你。是我给你的霹雳——“哈！”荷米恩得意地说。“我就知道，我告诉过你，它是来自他那儿的！” 
　　“是的，但是他做得不错，不是吗？”罗恩说，“哎哟。” 
　　那只小猫头鹰，高兴地在他的手中来叫着，啄着他的手指，好像对它来说那是一种亲近他的方法。 
　　克路殊克替我把定单带到办公室去的，我用了你的名字，但是告诉他们到格林高斯银行圆屋顶的第七百一十一个横条处去取金子——我自己的。把它当作你的教父送给你的十三岁的生日礼物。 
　　我也为去年的一天晚上，当你离开你姨丈的房子时，我吓了你一跳而道歉，我只想在起程去北方之前再看你一眼，但是我想我的样子吓到了你。 
　　我同时给你附了别的东西，我想它会使你在霍格瓦彻度过的下一年变得有意思一些。 
　　如果你需要我，传个信儿给我，那只猫头鹰知道我在哪儿。 
　　我会再写信给你的——西里斯哈利急切的看信封里面，这里还有另外一张手稿。 
　　他很快地读了一下，突然觉得温暖舒畅的犹同刚一口气喝完了一杯布特比水似的。 
　　“我，西里斯。巴拉克，哈利·波特的教父，在此允许他周末去拜访霍格马得。” 
　　“这对丹伯多来说实在是太好了！”哈利高兴的说。他又重新看了一遍西里斯的信。 
　　“待一下，这里还有续言……” 
　　“我想你的朋友罗恩会喜欢养这只猫头鹰，是我的过错才使得他失去了他的老鼠。” 
　　罗恩的眼睛湿了。这时那些猫头鹰还在他手上兴奋地袅叫着。 
　　“养着他？”他不确定地说。他离近的看了一会儿猫头鹰，然后，他将它拿到克路殊克的鼻息前。 
　　“你在算计些什么？”罗恩问那只猫，“它的确是一只猫头鹰。” 
　　克路殊党“喵，喵”地叫着。 
　　“对我来说真是太棒了。”罗恩高兴地说，“它是我的了。” 
　　在去国王大道车站的路上，哈利一遍又一遍的读着西里斯的来信。当他和罗恩还有荷米恩走过站台上九又四分之三的栏杆时，他仍还紧紧的摸着那封信。这时，他突然看见了维能姨丈。他站在离威斯里夫人和先生远远的地方，疑惑地看着他们。 
　　当威斯里夫人紧紧抱着他问候的时候，他确信他的疑虑。 
　　“我会就关于世界杯的事打电话给你的！”罗恩在哈利身后大声喊着。哈利向他和荷米恩告别后，推着装着他的行李和海维的笼子的小推车向维能姨丈走去。他和往常一样问候了他。 
　　“这是什么？”他咆哮着，紧盯着哈利拿在手里的信封。“如果这是另一张要让我签名的表格，你就会被——” 
　　“这不是，”哈利兴高采烈的说。“这是一封来自我的教父的信。” 
　　“教父？”维能姨丈急促地说，“你哪里有什么教父？” 
　　“不，我有，”哈利高兴的说，“他是我妈妈和爸爸最好的朋友。 
　　他被控谋杀，但是他从魔法师监狱中逃了出来，而且现在仍然逃离在外。但是，他会和我保持联系的……了解有关我的消息……看看我是否过得开心……“十分开心地看着维能姨丈脸上那恐惧的神情，哈利向出站口走去，海维在他前面”嘎，嘎“地叫着，这看起来是一个再好不过的夏天了. 
Chapter 2 Aunt Marge's Big Mistake
Harry went down to breakfast the next morning to find the three Dursleys already sitting around the kitchen table. They were watching a brand-new television, a welcome-home-for-the-summer present for Dudley, who had been complaining loudly about the long walk between the fridge and the television in the living room. Dudley had spent most of the summer in the kitchen, his piggy little eyes fixed on the screen and his five chins wobbling as he ate continually.
Harry sat down between Dudley and Uncle Vernon, a large, beefy man with very little neck and a lot of mustache. Far from wishing Harry a happy birthday, none of the Dursleys made any sign that they had noticed Harry enter the room, but Harry was far too used to this to care. He helped himself to a piece of toast and then looked up at the reporter on the television, who was halfway through a report on an escaped convict.
“…the public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hot line has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately.”
“No need to tell us he's no good,” snorted Uncle Vernon, staring over the top of his newspaper at the prisoner. “Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!”
He shot a nasty look sideways at Harry, whose untidy hair had always been a source of great annoyance to Uncle Vernon. Compared to the man on the television, however, whose gaunt face was surrounded by a matted, elbow-length tangle, Harry felt very well groomed indeed.
The reporter had reappeared.
“The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today —”
“Hang on!” barked Uncle Vernon, staring furiously at the reporter. “You didn't tell us where that maniac's escaped from! What use is that? Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!”
Aunt Petunia, who was bony and horse-faced, whipped around and peered intently out of the kitchen window. Harry knew Aunt Petunia would simply love to be the one to call the hot line number. She was the nosiest woman in the world and spent most of her life spying on the boring, law-abiding neighbors.
“When will they learn,” said Uncle Vernon, pounding the table with his large purple fist, “that hanging's the only way to deal with these people?”
“Very true,” said Aunt Petunia, who was still squinting into next door's runner-beans.
Uncle Vernon drained his teacup, glanced at his watch, and added, “I'd better be off in a minute, Petunia. Marge's train gets in at ten.”
Harry, whose thoughts had been upstairs with the Broomstick Servicing Kit, was brought back to earth with an unpleasant bump.
“Aunt Marge?” he blurted out. “Sh-she's not coming here, is she?”
Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernon's sister. Even though she was not a blood relative of Harry's (whose mother had been Aunt Petunia's sister), he had been forced to call her ‘Aunt’ all his life. Aunt Marge lived in the country, in a house with a large garden, where she bred bulldogs. She didn't often stay at Privet Drive, because she couldn't bear to leave her precious dogs, but each of her visits stood out horribly vividly in Harry's mind.
At Dudley's fifth birthday party, Aunt Margo had whacked Harry around the shins with her walking stick to stop him from beating Dudley at musical statues. A few years later, she had turned up at Christmas with a computerized robot for Dudley and a box of dog biscuits for Harry. On her last visit, the year before Harry started at Hogwarts, Harry had accidentally trodden on the tail of her favorite dog. Ripper had chased Harry out into the garden and up a tree, and Aunt Marge had refused to call him off until past midnight. The memory of this incident still brought tears of laughter to Dudley's eyes.
“Marge'll be here for a week,” Uncle Vernon snarled, “and while we're on the subject,” he pointed a fat finger threateningly at Harry, “we need to get a few things straight before I go and collect her.”
Dudley smirked and withdrew his gaze from the television. Watching Harry being bullied by Uncle Vernon was Dudley's favorite form of entertainment.
“Firstly,” growled Uncle Vernon, “you'll keep a civil tongue in your head when you're talking to Marge.”
“All right,” said Harry bitterly, “if she does when she's talking to me.”
“Secondly,” said Uncle Vernon, acting as though he had not heard Harry's reply, “as Marge doesn't know anything about your abnormality, I don't want any — any funny stuff while she's here. You behave yourself, got me?”
“I will if she does,” said Harry through gritted teeth.
“And thirdly,” said Uncle Vernon, his mean little eyes now slits in his great purple face, “we've told Marge you attend St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys.”
“What?” Harry yelled.
“And you'll be sticking to that story, boy, or there'll be trouble,” spat Uncle Vernon.
Harry sat there, white-faced and furious, staring at Uncle Vernon, hardly able to believe it. Aunt Marge coming for a weeklong visit — it was the worst birthday present the Dursleys had ever given him, including that pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks.
“Well, Petunia,” said Uncle Vernon, getting heavily to his feet, “I'll be off to the station, then. Want to come along for the ride, Dudders?”
“No,” said Dudley, whose attention had returned to the television now that Uncle Vernon had finished threatening Harry.
“Duddy's got to make himself smart for his auntie,” said Aunt Petunia, smoothing Dudley's thick blond hair. “Mummy's bought him a lovely new bow-tie.”
Uncle Vernon clapped Dudley on his porky shoulder.
“See you in a bit, then,” he said, and he left the kitchen.
Harry, who had been sitting in a kind of horrified trance, had a sudden idea. Abandoning his toast, he got quickly to his feet and followed Uncle Vernon to the front door.
Uncle Vernon was pulling on his car coat.
“I'm not taking you,” he snarled as he turned to see Harry watching him.
“Like I wanted to come,” said Harry coldly. “I want to ask you something.”
Uncle Vernon eyed him suspiciously.
“Third years at Hog — at my school are allowed to visit the village sometimes,” said Harry.
“So?” snapped Uncle Vernon, taking his car keys from a hook next to the door.
“I need you to sign the permission form,” said Harry in a rush.
“And why should I do that?” sneered Uncle Vernon.
“Well,” said Harry, choosing his words carefully, “it'll be hard work, pretending to Aunt Marge I go to that St. Whatsits.…”
“St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys!” bellowed Uncle Vernon, and Harry was pleased to hear a definite note of panic in Uncle Vernon's voice.
“Exactly,” said Harry, looking calmly up into Uncle Vernon's large, purple face. “It's a lot to remember. I'll have to make it sound convincing, won't I? What if I accidentally let something slip?”
“You'll get the stuffing knocked out of you, won't you?” roared Uncle Vernon, advancing on Harry with his fist raised. But Harry stood his ground.
“Knocking the stuffing out of me won't make Aunt Marge forget what I could tell her,” he said grimly.
Uncle Vernon stopped, his fist still raised, his face an ugly puce.
“But if you sign my permission form,” Harry went on quickly, “I swear Ill remember where I'm supposed to go to school, and Ill act like a Mug — like I'm normal and everything.”
Harry could tell that Uncle Vernon was thinking it over, even if his teeth were bared and a vein was throbbing in his temple.
“Right,” he snapped finally. “I shall monitor your behavior carefully during Marge's visit. If, at the end of it, you've toed the line and kept to the story, Ill sign your ruddy form.”
He wheeled around, pulled open the front door, and slammed it so hard that one of the little panes of glass at the top fell out.
Harry didn't return to the kitchen. He went back upstairs to his bedroom. If he was going to act like a real Muggle, heed better start now. Slowly and sadly he gathered up all his presents and his birthday cards and hid them under the loose floorboard with his homework. Then he went to Hedwig's cage. Errol seemed to have recovered; he and Hedwig were both asleep, heads under their wings. Harry sighed, then poked them both awake.
“Hedwig,” he said gloomily, “you're going to have to clear off for a week. Go with Errol. Ron'll look after you. Ill write him a note, explaining. And don't look at me like that” — Hedwig's large amber eyes were reproachful — “it's not my fault. It's the only way I'll be allowed to visit Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione.”
Ten minutes later, Errol and Hedwig (who had a note to Ron bound to her leg) soared out of the window and out of sight. Harry, now feeling thoroughly miserable, put the empty cage away inside the wardrobe.
But Harry didn't have long to brood. In next to no time, Aunt Petunia was shrieking up the stairs for Harry to come down and get ready to welcome their guest.
“Do something about your hair!” Aunt Petunia snapped as he reached the hall.
Harry couldn't see the point of trying to make his hair lie flat. Aunt Marge loved criticizing him, so the untidier he looked, the happier she would be.
All too soon, there was a crunch of gravel outside as Uncle Vernon's car pulled back into the driveway, then the clunk of the car doors and footsteps on the garden path.
“Get the door!” Aunt Petunia hissed at Harry.
A feeling of great gloom in his stomach, Harry pulled the door open.
On the threshold stood Aunt Marge. She was very like Uncle Vernon: large, beefy, and purple-faced, she even had a mustache, though not as bushy as his. In one hand she held an enormous suitcase, and tucked under the other was an old and evil-tempered bulldog.
“Where's my Dudders?” roared Aunt Marge. “Where's my neffy poo?”
Dudley came waddling down the hall, his blond hair plastered flat to his fat head, a bow tie just visible under his many chins. Aunt Marge thrust the suitcase into Harry's stomach, knocking the wind out of him, seized Dudley in a tight one-armed hug, and planted a large kiss on his cheek.
Harry knew perfectly well that Dudley only put up with Aunt Marge's hugs because he was well paid for it, and sure enough, when they broke apart, Dudley had a crisp twenty-pound note clutched in his fat fist.
“Petunia!” shouted Aunt Marge, striding past Harry as though he was a hat-stand. Aunt Marge and Aunt Petunia kissed, or rather, Aunt Marge bumped her large jaw against Aunt Petunias bony cheekbone.
Uncle Vernon now came in, smiling jovially as he shut the door.
“Tea, Marge?” he said. “And what will Ripper take?”
“Ripper can have some tea out of my saucer,” said Aunt Marge as they all proceeded into the kitchen, leaving Harry alone in the hall with the suitcase. But Harry wasn't complaining; any excuse not to be with Aunt Marge was fine by him, so he began to heave the case upstairs into the spare bedroom, taking as long as he could.

By the time he got back to the kitchen, Aunt Marge had been supplied with tea and fruitcake, and Ripper was lapping noisily in the corner. Harry saw Aunt Petunia wince slightly as specks of tea and drool flecked her clean floor. Aunt Petunia hated animals.
“Who's looking after the other dogs, Marge?” Uncle Vernon asked.
“Oh, I've got Colonel Fubster managing them,” boomed Aunt Marge. “He's retired now, good for him to have something to do. But I couldn't leave poor old Ripper. He pines if he's away from me.”
Ripper began to growl again as Harry sat down. This directed Aunt Marge's attention to Harry for the first time.
“So!” she barked. “Still here, are you?”
“Yes,” said Harry.
“Don't you say “yes” in that ungrateful tone,” Aunt Marge growled. “It's damn good of Vernon and Petunia to keep you. Wouldn't have done it myself. You'd have gone straight to an orphanage if you'd been dumped on my doorstep.”
Harry was bursting to say that he'd rather live in an orphanage than with the Dursleys, but the thought of the Hogsmeade form stopped him. He forced his face into a painful smile.
“Don't you smirk at me!” boomed Aunt Marge. “I can see you haven't improved since I last saw you. I hoped school would knock some manners into you.” She took a large gulp of tea, wiped her mustache, and said, “Where is it that you send him, again, Vernon?”
“St. Brutus's,” said Uncle Vernon promptly. “It's a first-rate institution for hopeless cases.”
“I see,” said Aunt Marge. “Do they use the cane at St. Brutus's, boy?” she barked across the table.
“Er —”
Uncle Vernon nodded curtly behind Aunt Marge's back.
“Yes,” said Harry. Then, feeling he might as well do the thing properly, he added, “All the time.”
“Excellent,” said Aunt Marge. “I won't have this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it. A good thrashing is what's needed in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. Have you been beaten often?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Harry, “loads of times.”
Aunt Marge narrowed her eyes.
“I still don't like your tone, boy,” she said. “If you can speak of your beatings in that casual way, they clearly aren't hitting you hard enough. Petunia, I'd write if I were you. Make it clear that you approve the use of extreme force in this boy's case.”
Perhaps Uncle Vernon was worried that Harry might forget their bargain; in any case, he changed the subject abruptly.
“Heard the news this morning, Marge? What about that escaped prisoner, eh?”
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*
As Aunt Marge started to make herself at home, Harry caught himself thinking almost longingly of life at number four without her. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia usually encouraged Harry to stay out of their way, which Harry was only too happy to do. Aunt Marge, on the other hand, wanted Harry under her eye at all times, so that she could boom out suggestions for his improvement. She delighted in comparing Harry with Dudley, and took huge pleasure in buying Dudley expensive presents while glaring at Harry, as though daring him to ask why he hadn't got a present too. She also kept throwing out dark hints about what made Harry such an unsatisfactory person.
“You mustn't blame yourself for the way the boy's turned out, Vernon,” she said over lunch on the third day. “If there's something rotten on the inside, there's nothing anyone can do about it.”
Harry tried to concentrate on his food, but his hands shook and his face was starting to burn with anger. Remember the form, he told himself. Think about Hogsmeade. Don't say anything. Don't rise —
Aunt Marge reached for her glass of wine.
“It's one of the basic rules of breeding,” she said. “You see it all the time with dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pup —”
At that moment, the wineglass Aunt Marge was holding exploded in her hand. Shards of glass flew in every direction and Aunt Marge sputtered and blinked, her great ruddy face dripping.
“Marge!” squealed Aunt Petunia. “Marge, are you all right?”
“Not to worry,” grunted Aunt Marge, mopping her face with her napkin. “Must have squeezed it too hard. Did the same thing at Colonel Fubster's the other day. No need to fuss, Petunia, I have a very firm grip.…”
But Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were both looking at Harry suspiciously, so he decided he'd better skip dessert and escape from the table as soon as he could.
Outside in the hall, he leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. It had been a long time since he'd lost control and made something explode. He couldn't afford to let it happen again. The Hogsmeade form wasn't the only thing at stake — if he carried on like that, he'd be in trouble with the Ministry of Magic.
Harry was still an underage wizard, and he was forbidden by wizard law to do magic outside school. His record wasn't exactly clean either. Only last summer he'd gotten an official warning that had stated quite clearly that if the Ministry got wind of any more magic in Privet Drive, Harry would face expulsion from Hogwarts.
He heard the Dursleys leaving the table and hurried upstairs out of the way.
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*
Harry got through the next three days by forcing himself to think about his Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare whenever Aunt Marge started on him. This worked quite well, though it seemed to give him a glazed look, because Aunt Marge started voicing the opinion that he was mentally subnormal.
At last, at long last, the final evening of Marge's stay arrived. Aunt Petunia cooked a fancy dinner and Uncle Vernon uncorked several bottles of wine. They got all the way through the soup and the salmon without a single mention of Harry's faults; during the lemon meringue pie, Uncle Vernon bored them a with a long talk about Grunnings, his drill-making company; then Aunt Petunia made coffee and Uncle Vernon brought out a bottle of brandy.
“Can I tempt you, Marge?”
Aunt Marge had already had quite a lot of wine. Her huge face was very red.
“Just a small one, then,” she chuckled. “A bit more than that…and a bit more…that's the ticket.”
Dudley was eating his fourth slice of pie. Aunt Petunia was sipping coffee with her little finger sticking out. Harry really wanted to disappear into his bedroom, but he met Uncle Vernon's angry little eyes and knew he would have to sit it out.
“Aah,” said Aunt Marge, smacking her lips and putting the empty brandy glass back down. “Excellent nosh, Petunia. It's normally just a fry-up for me of an evening, with twelve dogs to look after…” She burped richly and patted her great tweed stomach. “Pardon me. But I do like to see a healthy-sized boy,” she went on, winking at Dudley. “You'll be a proper-sized man, Dudders, like your father. Yes, I'll have a spot more brandy, Vernon…”
“Now, this one here —”
She jerked her head at Harry, who felt his stomach clench. The Handbook, he thought quickly.
“This one's got a mean, runty look about him. You get that with dogs. I had Colonel Fubster drown one last year. Ratty little thing it was. Weak. Underbred.”
Harry was trying to remember page twelve of his book: A Charm to Cure Reluctant Reversers.
“It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day. Bad blood will out. Now, I'm saying nothing against your family, Petunia” — she patted Aunt Petunia's bony hand with her shovel-like one “but your sister was a bad egg. They turn up in the best families. Then she ran off with a wastrel and here's the result right in front of us.”
Harry was staring at his plate, a funny ringing in his ears. Grasp your broom firmly by the tail, he thought. But he couldn't remember what came next. Aunt Marge's voice seemed to be boring into him like one of Uncle Vernon's drills.
“This Potter,” said Aunt Marge loudly, seizing the brandy bottle and splashing more into her glass and over the tablecloth, “you never told me what he did?”
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were looking extremely tense. Dudley had even looked up from his pie to gape at his parents.
“He — didn't work,” said Uncle Vernon, with half a glance at Harry. “Unemployed.”
“As I expected!” said Aunt Marge, taking a huge swig of brandy and wiping her chin on her sleeve. “A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who —”
“He was not,” said Harry suddenly. The table went very quiet. Harry was shaking all over. He had never felt so angry in his life.
“MORE BRANDY!” yelled Uncle Vernon, who had gone very white. He emptied the bottle into Aunt Marge's glass. “You, boy,” he snarled at Harry. “Go to bed, go on —”
“No, Vernon,” hiccuped Aunt Marge, holding up a hand, her tiny bloodshot eyes fixed on Harry's. “Go on, boy, go on. Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash (drunk, I expect) —”
“They didn't die in a car crash!” said Harry, who found himself on his feet.
“They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives!” screamed Aunt Marge, swelling with fury. “You are an insolent, ungrateful little —”
But Aunt Marge suddenly stopped speaking. For a moment, it looked as though words had failed her. She seemed to be swelling with inexpressible anger — but the swelling didn't stop. Her great red face started to expand, her tiny eyes bulged, and her mouth stretched too tightly for speech — next second, several buttons had just burst from her tweed jacket and pinged off the walls — she was inflating like a monstrous balloon, her stomach bursting free of her tweed waistband, each of her fingers blowing up like a salami…
“MARGE!” yelled Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia together as Aunt Marge's whole body began to rise off her chair toward the ceiling. She was entirely round, now, like a vast life buoy with piggy eyes, and her hands and feet stuck out weirdly as she drifted up into the air, making apoplectic popping noises. Ripper came skidding into the room, barking madly.
“NOOOOOOO!”
Uncle Vernon seized one of Marge's feet and tried to pull her down again, but was almost lifted from the floor himself. A second later, Ripper leapt forward and sank his teeth into Uncle Vernon's leg.
Harry tore from the dining room before anyone could stop him, heading for the cupboard under the stairs. The cupboard door burst magically open as he reached it. In seconds, he had heaved his trunk to the front door. He sprinted upstairs and threw himself under the bed, wrenching up the loose floorboard, and grabbed the pillowcase full of his books and birthday presents. He wriggled out, seized Hedwig's empty cage, and dashed back downstairs to his trunk, just as Uncle Vernon burst out of the dining room, his trouser leg in bloody tatters.
“COME BACK IN HERE!” he bellowed. “COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!”
But a reckless rage had come over Harry. He kicked his trunk open, pulled out his wand, and pointed it at Uncle Vernon.
“She deserved it,” Harry said, breathing very fast. “She deserved what she got. You keep away from me.”
He fumbled behind him for the latch on the door.
“I'm going,” Harry said. “I've had enough.”
And in the next moment, he was out in the dark, quiet street, heaving his heavy trunk behind him, Hedwig's cage under his arm.

第二天，哈利下楼去吃早餐，姨丈、姨妈、达德里坐在餐厅的桌子旁了，他们在看一部新的名牌电视机，那是送给达德里回家度暑假的礼物，达德里一直在大声埋怨从餐厅的冰箱到电视机的客厅要走太久。达德里把暑假的大部分时间花在餐厅里，他那贪心的小眼凝视看屏幕，吃东西的时候他尖尖的下巴不停地摇晃。
　　哈利在达德里和维能姨丈间坐下来，维能是一个高大而强壮的男人，有一条很小的颈和浓厚的胡子，不要说祝哈利生日快乐，他们连一声招呼也没对哈利说，像没看到一样。哈刮早已经习以为常，因此也不在乎了。他拿起一片面包吃，看着电视中的新闻报导员，他正在报导一个逃犯的消息。
　　“……警察提醒大家，巴拉克有携带武器，是个危险人物。一条特别热线已经建立，有谁看到巴拉克清立即通知。”
　　“说他坏是废话。”维能姨丈哼了一声，瞪着在报纸顶部的罪犯说：“看他那副样子，十足的无业游民，你看他的头发！”
　　他斜看了哈利一眼，他那满头乱发，总是让维能姨丈反感。但电视上的那人，他消瘦的脸黯然无光，头发像是海带丝一样，哈利暗自为自己的模样高兴。
　　新闻报导员又在屏幕出现了。
　　“下面是农业部和渔业部的消息——”
　　“慢着！”维能姨丈吼道，愤怒地瞪着播音员说：“你还没有说那疯狂子从哪里逃出来的，那有什么用呢？”鲁内特邻居正从那街上走来。
　　帕尤妮亚姨妈是一位很瘦，脸型像马脸的女人，她从餐厅的窗口快速往外望，哈利知道帕尤妮亚会喜欢成为那热线电话的成员。
　　她是世界上最爱热闹的人，有时候她会把一天大部分的时间花在偷窥邻居上。
　　“他们什么时候才能发现。”维能姨丈说着，紫色的拳头重重地打在桌子上，“那怎样处置这些该死的人？”
　　“那可真是。”帕尤妮亚姨妈说，她仍在无聊的斜视在邻居的东西上。
　　维能姨丈喝完他的茶，看着手表又说：“我快要走了，帕尤妮亚，玛务的火车在十点钟到站。”
　　哈利正想着楼上的扫帚维护箱，被这一句话惊醒过来。“玛各姨妈？”他脱口而出，“她不是来这儿吧？”
　　玛各姨妈是维能姨丈的妹妹，虽然她跟哈利没有血缘关系（他妈妈是帕尤妮亚姨妈的妹妹），但他也被逼一辈子叫她“姨妈”了，玛各住在乡村里，房子里有一个大花园那里养着大狼狗，她很少离开那里，因为她不能忍受离开她的宝贝狗，但她的每次光临都会给哈利留下恐怖的印象。
　　在达德里五岁生日派对上，玛各姨妈用她的手杖狠狠地打哈利的腹部，说要他在音乐表演上输给达德里。几年后的一个圣诞节，她给了达德里一个电动化的机器人，只给哈利一盒饼干。她上一次的到访是在哈利上霍格瓦彻学校的前一年。哈利不小心踩到她喜爱的狗的爪子上，那狗追着哈利到花园，直到他爬上树，玛各一直到半夜才把狗拉开，让他下来。达德里一想到那次就笑到流眼泪。
　　“玛各会在这儿待一个星期，”维能姨丈大声说，“说到这个问题上，”他的肥手指威胁地指着哈利，“我们需要把几件事说清楚再去接她。”
　　达德里的视线离开电视，在一旁冷笑着。看着哈利被维能姨丈训导是他最大的快乐。
　　“第一，”维能姨丈大声说，“对玛各说话时要礼貌点。”
　　“好的。”哈利痛苦地说，“如果她也这样对我的话。”
　　“第二，”维能姨文说，好像没听到哈利的回答一样：“由于玛各不知道你的情况，因此我不想她看到任何荒谬的东西，你小心点，知道吗？”
　　“如果她也这样的话，我也会。”哈利的牙齿轧轧地响。
　　“第三，”维能姨丈那卑鄙的小眼在紫红色的脸上转了一圈，“我们已经告诉玛各你在为矫正青少年罪犯而设立的圣。布鲁特斯保安中心读书。“”什么？“哈利大声嚷。
　　“你要坚持这故事，要不你会有麻烦的。”维能姨丈说。
　　哈利坐在那儿带着苍白的脸愤怒地瞪着维能姨丈，他几乎不能相信，玛各姨妈要到这里住一个星期，那是达德里一家给他最坏的生日礼物。
　　“好了，帕尤妮亚。”维能姨丈说，重重地踏在地上，“我要去车站了，达德里，你要跟着一同去吗？”
　　“不！”达德里说，在维能姨丈威胁完哈利之后，他的注意力回到电视上。
　　“达德里，你要在姨妈面前乖点。”帕尤妮亚姨妈揉着达德里的头发说，“妈妈给你买一条可爱的领带。”
　　维能姨丈轻轻拍了拍达德里的肥肩膀。
　　“那晚一点再见了。”他说，然后离开了餐厅。
　　哈利精神恍惚地坐在那儿，他有主意了，丢开他的面包片，他站起来跟着维能姨丈到前门。
　　维能姨丈拉开他的车套。
　　“我不会带你去的。”当他转向哈利看着他的时候，他咆哮道。
　　“你以为我要去吗？”哈利冷冷地说，“我要问你一些东西。”
　　维能怀疑地看着他。
　　“在霍格瓦彻的第三年，我们可以进去参观那些村庄。”哈利说。
　　“那又怎样？”他边说边从门旁的一个约里取下车钥匙来。
　　“我想你在同意书上签个名字。”哈利冲动地说。
　　“我为什么要那样做？”维能姨丈冷笑道。
　　“哎，”哈利说，小心翼翼地选择词语，“在玛各姨妈面前假装我上那圣。华西德学校将会挺难的……”
　　“不可救药的犯罪青年上的圣。华西德保安学校！”维能姨丈大声吼，哈利听到维能姨丈话中的愤怒感觉到一丝满意。
　　“好极了，”哈利平静地看着维能姨文又大又紫的脸。“我得记住很多东西。
　　我要假装让她相信，不是吗？如果我不小心泄露点什么的话怎么办呢？“
　　“我要用东西来塞住你的嘴是吗？”维能姨丈咆哮道，举起拳头向哈利走近，但哈利镇定地站着。
　　“你把我的口塞住，玛各姨妈也会知道这些事的。”他镇定地说。
　　维能停下来了，他的拳头仍举着，脸呈紫褐色。
　　“但是如果你在同意书上签上名字的话，”哈利迅速地说，“我发誓我会说我在那上学，而且我会扮成‘马格人’——像所有正常人和正常事一样。”
　　哈利可以看出维能姨丈正在考虑，虽然他的牙齿露出来并且静脉在他的太阳穴中震动着。
　　“好，”他最后吼道，“我会监视着你在玛各面前的行为的。如果到最后你没有泄露出来，并且假装得好的话，我就在那鬼表格上签名。”
　　他徘徊了一会儿，然后打开前门用力一关，车窗上的一些小玻璃碎片掉了下来。
　　哈利没有回到餐厅。他回到楼上的卧室里面，如果他真要扮“马格人”他最好现在就开始，他伤心地拎起所有的礼物和生日卡，把它们跟课本、作业一样藏在那块松了的地砖下面。然后他走到海维的笼子旁，厄罗尔看上去已经恢复了，他正与海维甜甜地睡着。
　　哈利把手理在翅膀下面，吸了口气，然后把他们弄醒。
　　“海维，”他沮丧地说，“你可以放假一个星期了，和厄罗尔去吧，罗恩会照顾你的。我会给他写一张便条，向他解释……请不要那样看着我，”海维的琥珀色的大眼睛正谴责地看着他。“这不是我的错，这是可以去参观霍格马得村庄的唯一途径。”
　　十分钟后，厄罗尔和脚上系着给罗思的纸条的海线飞出窗外在眼中消失了。哈利十分沮丧，把空鸟笼放人衣柜里面。
　　哈利没有长时间来思考还有些什么要做的，这时帕尤妮亚姨妈大声向楼上喊叫他下来迎接客人。
　　“梳理一下你的头！”帕尤妮亚姨妈在他到门口的时候大声喊。
　　哈利似乎不能把他的头发弄直，玛各姨妈很喜欢批评他，因而他越脏，她就显得越高兴。
　　就在他很为难的时候，维能姨丈的车停在门口，车门发出沉浊碰击声之后，就下了车道上了花园的小道上。
　　“开车门。”帕尤妮亚姨妈向哈利呵责。
　　哈利怔怔站了一下，然后拉开车门。
　　玛各站在门槛上。她长得很像维能姨丈，很健壮，一张紫色的脸，还长有胡子，但没有维能姨丈那样浓密，她一手提着一个很大的手提箱，箱子下面站着那凶恶的老狼犬。
　　“我可爱的达德里呢？”玛各大声喊，“他在哪儿呢？”
　　达德里摇摇摆摆地来到客厅，他那红色的头发像药膏一样贴在头上，那领带勉强可以从他肥肥的下巴中露出来。玛各姨妈用力把手提箱推到哈利的肘上，在他身边散发出一阵香水味。她一手紧紧扭住达德里，在他脸上狠狠地吻了一下。
　　哈利非常清楚达德里在熬着那可怕的吻，不过他有报酬的。
　　看，他们松开时，达德里手上就拿着一张二十镑的新钞票了。
　　“帕尤妮亚！”玛各姨妈大声喊道，大步经过哈利，犹如他是一个衣架似的，玛各姨妈吻了帕尤妮亚一下，确切地说，玛各姨妈把她强大的下巴撞在帕尤妮亚瘦瘦的下巴上。
　　维能姨丈走了进来，关门时高兴地笑着。
　　“要茶吗？玛各？”他说，“税皮要吃些什么？”
　　“税皮只吃我给它茶果酱的茶。”玛各姨妈说道。这时他们让哈利一个人拿着手提箱在客厅站着，走进了餐厅了。但是哈利并没有埋怨些什么，只要不要跟玛各姨妈在一起就是好事。因而他开始把重重的手提箱提到那空房里，并且逗留在那儿。
　　当他回到餐厅的时候，玛各姨妈已经在喝茶和吃水果蛋糕了。
　　税皮在墙角嬉闹地拍动着。哈利看见帕尤妮亚姨妈喝茶时显得有点畏惧，税皮的口水滴到干净的地板上，帕尤妮亚讨厌动物。
　　“谁替你照顾其它的狗呢，玛各？”维能姨丈问。
　　“噢，我叫弗波斯特上尉看着它们，”玛各姨妈像大宣传一样说，“他现在退休了，有些事干对他有好处。但我不能离开可怜的税皮，它离开我会消瘦的。”
　　税皮看到哈利坐下来的时候吠了一声，这第一次把玛各姨妈的注意力转到哈利身上。
　　“哈利！”她咆哮道，“你居然还在？”
　　“是的。”哈利说。
　　“不要那样让人讨厌地说‘是的’。”玛各姨妈吼道，“维能和帕尤妮亚继续养你已经太仁慈了，我才不会那样做呢，如果你走进我门口一步，我会直接把你送到孤儿院去。”
　　哈利刚要说他宁愿住孤儿院也不要与杜斯利一家人住，但想到霍格马得的事，他又把话吞下去了。他强迫自己苦笑一下。
　　“你不要向我嚷，”玛各姨妈埋怨说，“我可以看出从上次见你以后你根本没有进步过，我希望学校可以把礼貌装进作的脑袋里面。”她大大地吞了一口茶，擦了擦她的胡子又说：“再说一次，你把他送到哪一间学校，维能？”
　　“在圣。布鲁斯特，”维能姨丈很爽快地回答，“那是给没有希望的孩子的一级学院了。”
　　“我明白。”玛各姨妈说，“他们在圣。布鲁特斯用藤条惩罚学生吗？”
　　“嗯——”
　　维能姨丈在玛各姨妈后面简略地点点头。
　　“是的，”哈利说，然后他加上一些更让她相信的话，“任何时候都用。”
　　“太好了。”玛各姨妈说，“我不会把这傻话说出来的。百分之九十九人都被痛打过，你也经常被打吗？”
　　“哦，是啊，很多次了。”哈利回答说。
　　玛各姨妈眯着眼睛。
　　“我仍然不喜欢你说话的语调，孩子，”她说：“如果你可以那样随便说你给痛打了，说明他们还打得不够狠，帕尤妮亚，如果我是你的话，我会写信去说明在这孩子身上要用严刑。”
　　也许维能姨丈担心哈利忘了他们的交易，立即匆匆地转过话题。
　　“玛各，今天听到新闻了吗？那逃犯怎样了，哦？”
　　当玛各姨妈在这儿住下来的时候，哈利就一直盼望四号快点到来，那时她要离开了。维能姨丈和帕尤妮亚姨妈通常叫哈利不要靠近他们，哈利当然也很乐意。玛各姨妈却相反。总想哈利在她眼前，因而她可以咕啃一番让他进步的建议。她很喜欢拿哈利和达德里比，而且以在哈利面前买贵重礼物给达德里为乐。虽然她会让哈利问为什么不给他买礼物。她也总是给哈利暗示他是一个十分让人不满意的人。
　　“你不应该为这孩子变成这样而资各自己的，维能。”第二天她在吃午餐的时候说：“如果里面的东西腐坏了，没有人能够拯救它。”
　　哈利努力集中注意力于食物上，但是他的手开始抖动。他的脸也现出愤怒。记住那张表格，他告诉自己，想想霍格马得村庄，不要说话，不要站起来——玛各姨妈伸手去拿她的酒。
　　“这是事物的基本规则。”她说，“看着这些狗，如果母狗有问题，狗急子也会有问题——”
　　忽然，玛各姨妈手中的酒杯爆开，玻璃碎片向四方飞去，玛各姨妈胡乱地说着，她眨着眼睛，红润的脸往下垂。
　　“玛各。”帕尤妮亚姨妈尖叫，“玛各，你没事吧？”
　　“不要担心。”玛各姨妈抱怨说，她用手巾在脸上擦着。
　　“一定是抓得太紧了，那天在弗波斯特上尉家也发生过，不要大惊小怪的，帕尤妮亚，我的拳头很强硬。”
　　但是帕尤妮亚姨妈和维能姨文奇怪地看了看哈利，他们决定取消布了，尽快离开桌子。
　　客厅外面，哈利靠在墙上，深深地呼吸着，他上次失去控制让东西爆开是很久以前的事了。他不能让它再发生了，那霍格马得表格不是唯一的原因，如果他继续这样，他会被霍格瓦彻学校开除的。
　　哈利仍是未成年的巫师，他被禁止在学校外施法的，他的记录也不是清白的，就在去年暑假，他被正式警告如果他再在校外施法的话，将会被逐出霍格瓦彻学校的。
　　他听到杜斯利一家离开餐桌，他立刻上楼去逃避。
　　哈利剩余的三天想着他那本《扫帚维护手册》，尤其是玛各姨妈盯着他的时候，这很有效，虽然这使他看起来很迟钝，因为玛各姨妈开始称他精神有点问题。
　　终于熬到最后了，到了玛各姨妈留下的最后一个晚上。帕尤妮亚姨妈煮了丰盛的一餐，维能姨文开了几瓶酒，他们一直地吃，从汤到挂肉，没有人提及哈利的错失。在吃柠檬水果派的时候，维能姨文不停地说他的银行，他的钻孔机公司。然后帕尤妮亚姨妈煮咖啡，维能姨丈拿出一瓶白兰地，大家都听得发腻了。
　　“再干一杯，玛各。”
　　玛各姨妈已经喝了很多酒了，她的脸很红。
　　“那就再来一小杯吧。”她咯咯地笑。“再多一点，多一点，真乖。”
　　达德里在吃他第四块馅饼了，帕尤妮亚姨妈在吸咖啡，她的小手指指向外面。
　　哈利真想回到自己的房子里面，但他看到维能姨丈生气的小眼睛时，他知道他要坐下去的。
　　“啊，”玛各姨妈说，轻轻擦着唇并放下那空的白兰地玻璃杯。
　　“极好的小吃，帕尤妮亚，通常我一吃完饭就要喂那十只狗……”
　　她大声地打噎，手拍拍肚子前的斜纹软呢服，“失陪一会儿，但我想再看看那健康的男孩。”她给达德里使眼色继续说：“你会长成一个身材标准的男人，达德里，就像你爸爸一样。是的，我再要一点白兰地，维能。”
　　“但这个嘛——”
　　她的头猛伸向哈利，哈利觉得胃在抽筋动，那手册，他立即想。
　　“这个可恶又矮小的男人。你看有些狗，去年我叫弗波斯特上尉把它溺死，那东西又小又弱，不够营养。”
　　哈利尽力去想他那本《治疗强忍者妙法》的第十二页。
　　“那天我在洪水来临时说，这可恶洪水会过去的，现在，现在，帕尤妮亚，我想没有什么事会与你的家庭过不去的了，”她用她那铲子似的手拍拍帕尤妮亚露骨的手。“但你妹妹是一个笨蛋。她住在最好的家庭里面。但她带着一件废物逃来，看，就在眼前。”
　　哈利盯着他的蝶子，无聊的声音在耳边响起，他紧紧拿着那扫帚的尾端，他想，玛各的声音就像维能的钻孔机一样让人烦闷。
　　“那个波特，”玛各姨妈大声说，她拿着白兰地瓶给她的杯子满满倒了一杯，还有很多溅到桌布上，“你没有告诉我他做过什么？”
　　维能姨丈和帕尤妮亚姨妈变得很紧张，达德里甚至从水果盘中抬起头来看着他的父母。
　　“他——他没有工作。”维能姨丈说，瞥了哈利一眼说，“失业的。”
　　“如我所想的一样。”玛各说，大大地喝了一口白兰地，用衣袖擦擦下巴，“一个无所作为的，一天是处的懒乞丐——”
　　“他并不是这样的，”哈利突然说话了，全桌的人变得安静下来了。哈利全身颤抖，他从没有如此生气的。
　　“再来杯白兰地！”维能嚷道，他脸色苍白，他把酒全倒进玛各姨妈的林子里，“你，这小子。”他吼道，“你回房间去，走——”
　　“维能，不要。”玛各打了个饱嗝，抬起一手，她含血的眼注视着哈利，“小子，接着说吧，你为你父母骄傲是吗？他们给车撞死了，可能是酒后开车，我想——”
　　“他们并不是死于车祸的。”哈利已经站起来了说。
　　“他们是死于车祸的，你这下流的撒谎者。而你这却成了他们的负担，糟糕的亲戚。”玛各尖声骂着，充满狂热，“你这个无礼不知廉耻的家伙——”
　　但是突然玛各停止说话了，好一阵子，好像她不能说话一样。
　　她好像被不能表达的语言噎住了，但是她的激烈并没有停下来。她那张大而红的脸开始膨胀。她的小眼突出来了。她的口紧紧地张开要说话，随着她斜纹软呢服中几个扭扣破裂并向墙砰的一声飞出去。她的肚子随腰带的破裂而膨胀，她的手指像意大利腊肠一样膨胀。
　　“玛各，”维能姨丈和帕尤妮亚姨妈齐喊，玛各的身体开始脱离椅子向天花板升上去，她现在是圆滚滚的，像个带着猪眼睛的浮标。她的手脚在上升时不可思议地张开，得中风症一样。税皮滑进饭厅，发疯狂般吠着。
　　“不要！”
　　维能姨丈抓着玛各的脚想要把她拉下来。但他又差点被拉上去。随着，税皮已经跃起来咬着维能姨丈的腿。
　　哈利走出饭厅，在被制止之前已经向橱柜走去，当他走近的时候，橱柜着魔般自动打开。没几秒，他举起他的皮箱放在前门，他猛冲上楼，并扑到床下面，猛揭开那松动的地砖，拿起枕头套里的书和他的生日卡。他爬出来，抓着海线的空笼子然后猛冲回楼下的皮箱前，那时维能姨丈被推出饭厅，他的裤子成了带着血的破布。
　　“回来。”他吼道，“你回来，恢复她的样子！”
　　但是哈利已经很冲动了，他踢开他的皮箱，拉出他的魔杖，并指向维能姨丈。
　　“她活该。”哈利说，他呼吸十分急速，“她是应该受到惩罚的，你不要靠近我。”
　　他摸索门的手柄。
　　“我要走了。”哈利说，“这里太可恶了。”
　　然后，他走进了漆黑的夜里，在静静的大街上，他提起重重的皮箱。他手臂下面是那个鸟笼。
Chapter 10 The Marauder's Map
Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping Harry in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend. He didn't argue or complain, but he wouldn't let her throw away the shattered remnants of his Nimbus Two Thousand. He knew he was being stupid, knew that the Nimbus was beyond repair, but Harry couldn't help it; he felt as though he'd lost one of his best friends.
He had a stream of visitors, all intent on cheering him up. Hagrid sent him a bunch of earwiggy flowers that looked like yellow cabbages, and Ginny Weasley, blushing furiously, turned up with a get-well card she had made herself, which sang shrilly unless Harry kept it shut under his bowl of fruit. The Gryffindor team visited again on Sunday morning, this time accompanied by Wood, who told Harry (in a hollow, dead sort of voice) that he didn't blame him in the slightest. Ron and Hermione left Harry's bedside only at night. But nothing anyone said or did could make Harry feel any better, because they knew only half of what was troubling him.
He hadn't told anyone about the Grim, not even Ron and Hermione, because he knew Ron would panic and Hermione would scoff. The fact remained, however, that it had now appeared twice, and both appearances had been followed by near-fatal accidents; the first time, he had nearly been run over by the Knight Bus; the second, fallen fifty feet from his broomstick. Was the Grim going to haunt him until he actually died? Was he going to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder for the beast?
And then there were the Dementors. Harry felt sick and humiliated every time he thought of them. Everyone said the Dementors were horrible, but no one else collapsed every time they went near one. No one else heard echoes in their head of their dying parents.
Because Harry knew who that screaming voice belonged to now. He had heard her words, heard them over and over again during the night hours in the hospital wing while he lay awake, staring at the strips of moonlight on the ceiling. When the Dementors approached him, he heard the last moments of his mother's life, her attempts to protect him, Harry, from Lord Voldemort, and Voldemort's laughter before he murdered her…Harry dozed fitfully, sinking into dreams full of clammy, rotted hands and petrified pleading, jerking awake to dwell again on his mother's voice.
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*
It was a relief to return to the noise and bustle of the main school on Monday, where he was forced to think about other things, even if he had to endure Draco Malfoy's taunting. Malfoy was almost beside himself with glee at Gryffindor's defeat. He had finally taken off his bandages, and celebrated having the full use of both arms again by doing spirited imitations of Harry falling off his broom. Malfoy spent much of their next Potions class doing Dementor imitations across the dungeon; Ron finally cracked and flung a large, slippery crocodile heart at Malfoy, which hit him in the face and caused Snape to take fifty points from Gryffindor.
“If Snape's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts again, I'm skiving off,” said Ron as they headed toward Lupin's classroom after lunch. “Check who's in there, Hermione.”
Hermione peered around the classroom door.
“It's okay!”
Professor Lupin was back at work. It certainly looked as though he had been ill. His old robes were hanging more loosely on him and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes; nevertheless, he smiled at the class as they took their seats, and they burst at once into an explosion of complaints about Snape's behavior while Lupin had been ill.
“It's not fair, he was only filling in, why should he give us homework?”
“We don't know anything about werewolves —”
“— two rolls of parchment!”
“Did you tell Professor Snape we haven't covered them yet?” Lupin asked, frowning slightly.
The babble broke out again.
“Yes, but he said we were really behind —”
“— he wouldn't listen —”
“— two rolls of parchment!”
Professor Lupin smiled at the look of indignation on every face.
“Don't worry. I'll speak to Professor Snape. You don't have to do the essay.”
“Oh no,” said Hermione, looking very disappointed. “I've already finished it!”
They had a very enjoyable lesson. Professor Lupin had brought along a glass box containing a Hinkypunk, a little one-legged creature who looked as though he were made of wisps of smoke, rather frail and harmless looking.
“Lures travelers into bogs,” said Professor Lupin as they took notes. “You notice the lantern dangling from his hand? Hops ahead — people follow the light — then —”
The Hinkypunk made a horrible squelching noise against the glass.
When the bell rang, everyone gathered up their things and headed for the door, Harry among them, but —
“Wait a moment, Harry,” Lupin called. “I'd like a word.”
Harry doubled back and watched Professor Lupin covering the Hinkypunk's box with a cloth.
“I heard about the match,” said Lupin, turning back to his desk and starting to pile books into his briefcase, “and I'm sorry about your broomstick. Is there any chance of fixing it?”
“No,” said Harry. “The tree smashed it to bits.”
Lupin sighed.
“They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts. People used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. In the end, a boy called Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden to go near it. No broomstick would have a chance.”
“Did you hear about the Dementors too?” said Harry with difficulty.
Lupin looked at him quickly.
“Yes, I did. I don't think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They have been growing restless for some time…furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds…I suppose they were the reason you fell?”
“Yes,” said Harry. He hesitated, and then the question he had to ask burst from him before he could stop himself. “Why? Why do they affect me like that? Am I just —?”
“It has nothing to do with weakness,” said Professor Lupin sharply, as though he had read Harry's mind. “The Dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don't have.”
A ray of wintry sunlight fell across the classroom, illuminating Lupin's gray hairs and the lines on his young face.
“Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can't see them. Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself — soul-less and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that happened to you, Harry, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of.”
“When they get near me —” Harry stared at Lupin's desk, his throat tight. “I can hear Voldemort murdering my mum.”
Lupin made a sudden motion with his arm as though to grip Harry's shoulder, but thought better of it. There was a moment's silence, then —
“Why did they have to come to the match?” said Harry bitterly.
“They're getting hungry,” said Lupin coolly, shutting his briefcase with a snap. “Dumbledore won't let them into the school, so their supply of human prey has dried up…I don't think they could resist the large crowd around the Quidditch field. All that excitement…emotions running high…it was their idea of a feast.”
“Azkaban must be terrible,” Harry muttered. Lupin nodded grimly.
“The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea, but they don't need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they're all trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheery thought. Most of them go mad within weeks.”
“But Sirius Black escaped from them,” Harry said slowly. “He got away…”
Lupin's briefcase slipped from the desk; he had to stoop quickly to catch it.
“Yes,” he said, straightening up, “Black must have found a way to fight them. I wouldn't have believed it possible…Dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his powers if he is left with them too long…”
“You made that Dementor on the train back off,” said Harry suddenly.
“There are — certain defenses one can use,” said Lupin. “But there was only one Dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist.”
“What defenses?” said Harry at once. “Can you teach me?”
“I don't pretend to be an expert at fighting Dementors, Harry — quite the contrary…”
“But if the Dementors come to another Quidditch match, I need to be able to fight them —”
Lupin looked into Harry's determined face, hesitated, then said, “Well…all right. I'll try and help. But it'll have to wait until next term, I'm afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill.”
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What with the promise of anti-Dementor lessons from Lupin, the thought that he might never have to hear his mother's death again, and the fact that Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in their Quidditch match at the end of November, Harry's mood took a definite upturn. Gryffindor were not out of the running after all, although they could not afford to lose another match. Wood became repossessed of his manic energy, and worked his team as hard as ever in the chilly haze of rain that persisted into December. Harry saw no hint of a Dementor within the grounds. Dumbledore's anger seemed to be keeping them at their stations at the entrances.
Two weeks before the end of the term, the sky lightened suddenly to a dazzling, opaline white and the muddy grounds were revealed one morning covered in glittering frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies. The students were all happily discussing their plans for the holidays. Both Ron and Hermione had decided to remain at Hogwarts, and though Ron said it was because he couldn't stand two weeks with Percy, and Hermione insisted she needed to use the library, Harry wasn't fooled; they were doing it to keep him company, and he was very grateful.
To everyone's delight except Harry's, there was to be another Hogsmeade trip on the very last weekend of the term.
“We can do all our Christmas shopping there!” said Hermione. “Mum and Dad would really love those Toothflossing Stringmints from Honeydukes!”
Resigned to the fact that he would be the only third year staying behind again, Harry borrowed a copy of Which Broomstick from Wood, and decided to spend the day reading up on the different makes. He had been riding one of the school brooms at team practice, an ancient Shooting Star, which was very slow and jerky; he definitely needed a new broom of his own.
On the Saturday morning of the Hogsmeade trip, Harry bid good-bye to Ron and Hermione, who were wrapped in cloaks and scarves, then turned up the marble staircase alone, and headed back toward Gryffindor Tower. Snow had started to fall outside the windows, and the castle was very still and quiet.
“Psst — Harry!”
He turned, halfway along the third-floor corridor, to see Fred and George peering out at him from behind a statue of a humpbacked, one-eyed witch.
“What are you doing?” said Harry curiously. “How come you're not going to Hogsmeade?”
“We've come to give you a bit of festive cheer before we go,” said Fred, with a mysterious wink. “Come in here…”
He nodded toward an empty classroom to the left of the one-eyed statue. Harry followed Fred and George inside. George closed the door quietly and then turned, beaming, to look at Harry.
“Early Christmas present for you, Harry,” he said.
Fred pulled something from inside his cloak with a flourish and laid it on one of the desks. It was a large, square, very worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it. Harry, suspecting one of Fred and George's jokes, stared at it.
“What's that supposed to be?”
“This, Harry, is the secret of our success,” said George, patting the parchment fondly.
“It's a wrench, giving it to you,” said Fred, “but we decided last night, your need's greater than ours.”
“Anyway, we know it by heart,” said George. “We bequeath it to you. We don't really need it anymore.”
“And what do I need with a bit of old parchment?” said Harry.
“A bit of old parchment!” said Fred, closing his eyes with a grimace as though Harry had mortally offended him. “Explain, George.”
“Well…when we were in our first year, Harry — young, carefree, and innocent —”
Harry snorted. He doubted whether Fred and George had ever been innocent.
“- well, more innocent than we are now — we got into a spot of bother with Filch.”
“We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason —”
“So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual —”
“— detention —”
“— disembowelment —”
“— and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous.”
“Don't tell me —” said Harry, starting to grin.
“Well, what would you've done?” said Fred. “George caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb, I whipped the drawer open, and grabbed — this.”
“It's not as bad as it sounds, you know,” said George. “We don't reckon Filch ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn't have confiscated it.”
“And you know how to work it?”
“Oh yes,” said Fred, smirking. “This little beauty's taught us more than all the teachers in this school.”
“You're winding me up,” said Harry, looking at the ragged old bit of parchment.
“Oh, are we?” said George.
He took out his wand, touched the parchment lightly, and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point that George's wand had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that proclaimed:
Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers
are proud to present
THE MARAUDER'S MAP
It was a map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But the truly remarkable thing were the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labeled with a name in minuscule writing. Astounded, Harry bent over it. A labeled dot in the top left corner showed that Professor Dumbledore was pacing his study; the caretaker's cat, Mrs. Norris, was prowling the second floor; and Peeves the Poltergeist was currently bouncing around the trophy room. And as Harry's eyes traveled up and down the familiar corridors, he noticed something else.
This map showed a set of passages he had never entered. And many of them seemed to lead —
“Right into Hogsmeade,” said Fred, tracing one of them with his finger. “There are seven in all. Now, Filch knows about these four” — he pointed them out — “but we're sure we're the only ones who know about these. Don't bother with the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We used it until last winter, but it's caved in — completely blocked. And we don't reckon anyone's ever used this one, because the Whomping Willow's planted right over the entrance. But this one here, this one leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes. We've used it loads of times. And as you might've noticed, the entrance is right outside this room, through that one-eyed old crone's hump.”
“Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs,” sighed George, patting the heading of the map. “We owe them so much.”
“Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers,” said Fred solemnly.
“Right,” said George briskly. “Don't forget to wipe it after you've used it —”
“— or anyone can read it,” Fred said warningly.
“Just tap it again and say, “Mischief managed!” And it'll go blank.”
“So, young Harry,” said Fred, in an uncanny impersonation of Percy, “mind you behave yourself.”
“See you in Honeydukes,” said George, winking.
They left the room, both smirking in a satisfied sort of way.
Harry stood there, gazing at the miraculous map. He watched the tiny ink Mrs. Norris turn left and pause to sniff at something on the floor. If Filch really didn't know…he wouldn't have to pass the Dementors at all….
But even as he stood there, flooded with excitement, something Harry had once heard Mr. Weasley say came floating out of his memory.
Never trust anything that can think for itself, if you can't see where it keeps its brain.
This map was one of those dangerous magical objects Mr. Weasley had been warning against…Aids for Magical Mischief Makers…but then, Harry reasoned, he only wanted to use it to get into Hogsmeade, it wasn't as though he wanted to steal anything or attack anyone…and Fred and George had been using it for years without anything horrible happening…
Harry traced the secret passage to Honeydukes with his finger.
Then, quite suddenly, as though following orders, he rolled up the map, stuffed it inside his robes, and hurried to the door of the classroom. He opened it a couple of inches. There was no one outside. Very carefully, he edged out of the room and behind the statue of the one-eyed witch.
What did he have to do? He pulled out the map again and saw to his astonishment, that a new ink figure had appeared upon it, labeled ‘Harry Potter'. This figure was standing exactly where the real Harry was standing, about halfway down the third-floor corridor. Harry watched carefully. His little Ink self appeared to be tapping the witch with his minute wand. Harry quickly took out his real wand and tapped the statue. Nothing happened. He looked back at the map. The tiniest speech bubble had appeared next to his figure. The word inside said, ‘Dissendium.’
“Dissendium!” Harry whispered, tapping the stone witch again.
At once, the statue's hump opened wide enough to admit a fairly thin person. Harry glanced quickly up and down the corridor, then tucked the map away again, hoisted himself into the hole headfirst, and pushed himself forward.
He slid a considerable way down what felt like a stone slide, then landed on cold, damp earth. He stood up, looking around. It was pitch dark. He held up his wand, muttered, “Lumos!” and saw that he was in a very narrow, low, earthy passageway. He raised the map, tapped it with the tip of his wand, and muttered, “Mischief managed!” The map went blank at once. He folded it carefully, tucked it inside his robes, then, heart beating fast, both excited and apprehensive, he set off.
The passage twisted and turned, more like the burrow of a giant rabbit than anything else. Harry hurried along it, stumbling now and then on the uneven floor, holding his wand out in front of him.
It took ages, but Harry had the thought of Honeydukes to sustain him. After what felt like an hour, the passage began to rise. Panting, Harry sped up, his face hot, his feet very cold.
Ten minutes later, he came to the foot of some worn stone steps, which rose out of sight above him. Careful not to make any noise, Harry began to climb. A hundred steps, two hundred steps, he lost count as he climbed, watching his feet…then, without warning, his head hit something hard.
It seemed to be a trapdoor. Harry stood there, massaging the top of his head, listening. He couldn't hear any sounds above him. Very slowly, he pushed the trapdoor open and peered over the edge.
He was in a cellar, which was full of wooden crates and boxes. Harry climbed out of the trapdoor and replaced it — it blended so perfectly with the dusty floor that it was impossible to tell it was there. Harry crept slowly toward the wooden staircase that led upstairs. Now he could definitely hear voices, not to mention the tinkle of a bell and the opening and shutting of a door.
Wondering what he ought to do, he suddenly heard a door open much closer at hand; somebody was about to come downstairs.
“And get another box of Jelly Slugs, dear, they've nearly cleaned us out —” said a woman's voice.
A pair of feet was coming down the staircase. Harry leapt behind an enormous crate and waited for the footsteps to pass. He heard the man shifting boxes against the opposite wall. He might not get another chance —
Quickly and silently, Harry dodged out from his hiding place and climbed the stairs; looking back, he saw an enormous backside and shiny bald head, buried in a box. Harry reached the door at the top of the stairs, slipped through it, and found himself behind the counter of Honeydukes — he ducked, crept sideways, and then straightened up.
Honeydukes was so crowded with Hogwarts students that no one looked twice at Harry. He edged among them, looking around, and suppressed a laugh as he imagined the look that would spread over Dudley's piggy face if he could see where Harry was now.
There were shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable. Creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-colored toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat rows; there was a large barrel of Every Flavor Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizbees, the levitating sherbet balls that Ron had mentioned; along yet another wall were ‘Special Effects’ — sweets: Droobles Best Blowing Gum (which filled a room with bluebell-colored bubbles that refused to pop for days), the strange, splintery Toothflossing Stringmints, tiny black Pepper Imps (‘breathe fire for your friends!'), Ice Mice (‘hear your teeth chatter and squeak!'), peppermint creams shaped like toads (‘hop realistically in the stomach!'), fragile sugar-spun quills, and exploding bonbons.
Harry squeezed himself through a crowd of sixth years and saw a sign hanging in the farthest corner of the shop (UNUSUAL TASTES). Ron and Hermione were standing underneath it, examining a tray of blood-flavored lollipops. Harry sneaked up behind them.
“Ugh, no, Harry won't want one of those, they're for vampires, I expect,” Hermione was saying.
“How about these?” said Ron, shoving a jar of Cockroach Clusters under Hermione's nose.
“Definitely not,” said Harry.
Ron nearly dropped the jar.
“Harry!” squealed Hermione. “What are you doing here? How — how did you —?”
“Wow!” said Ron, looking very impressed, “you've learned to Apparate!”
“‘Course I haven't,” said Harry. He dropped his voice so that none of the sixth years could hear him and told them all about the Marauder's Map.
“How come Fred and George never gave it to me!” said Ron, outraged. “I'm their brother!”
“But Harry isn't going to keep it!” said Hermione, as though the idea were ludicrous. “He's going to hand it in to Professor McGonagall, aren't you, Harry?”
“No, I'm not!” said Harry.
“Are you mad?” said Ron, goggling at Hermione. “Hand in something that good?”
“If I hand it in, I'll have to say where I got it! Filch would know Fred and George had nicked it!”
“But what about Sirius Black?” Hermione hissed. “He could be using one of the passages on that map to get into the castle! The teachers have got to know!”
“He can't be getting in through a passage,” said Harry quickly. “There are seven secret tunnels on the map, right? Fred and George reckon Filch already knows about four of them. And of the other three — one of them's caved in, so no one can get through it. One of them's got the Whomping Willow planted over the entrance, so you can't get out of it. And the one I just came through — well — it's really hard to see the entrance to it down in the cellar — so unless he knew it was there —”
Harry hesitated. What if Black did know the passage was there? Ron, however, cleared his throat significantly, and pointed to a notice pasted on the inside of the sweetshop door.
BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC
Customers are reminded that until further notice, Dementors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon the recapture of Sirius Black. It is therefore advisable that you complete your shopping well before nightfall. 
Merry Christmas! 
“See?” said Ron quietly. “I'd like to see Black try and break into Honeydukes with Dementors swarming all over the village. Anyway, Hermione, the Honeydukes owners would hear a break-in, wouldn't they? They live over the shop!”
“Yes, but — but —” Heroine seemed to be struggling to find another problem. “Look, Harry still shouldn't be coming into Hogsmeade. He hasn't got a signed form! If anyone finds out, he'll be in so much trouble! And it's not nightfall yet — what if Sirius Black turns up today? Now?”
“He'd have a job spotting Harry in this,” said Ron, nodding through the mullioned windows at the thick, swirling snow. “Come on, Hermione, it's Christmas. Harry deserves a break.”
Hermione bit her lip, looking extremely worried.
“Are you going to report me?” Harry asked her, grinning.
“Oh — of course not — but honestly, Harry —”
“Seen the Fizzing Whizbees, Harry?” said Ron, grabbing him and leading him over to their barrel. “And the Jelly Slugs? And the Acid Pops? Fred gave me one of those when I was seven — it burnt a hole right through my tongue. I remember Mum walloping him with her broomstick.” Ron stared broodingly into the Acid Pop box. “Reckon Fred'd take a bite of Cockroach Cluster if I told him they were peanuts?”
When Ron and Hermione had paid for all their sweets, the three of them left Honeydukes for the blizzard outside.
Hogsmeade looked like a Christmas card; the little thatched cottages and shops were all covered in a layer of crisp snow; there were holly wreaths on the doors and strings of enchanted candles hanging in the trees.
Harry shivered; unlike the other two, he didn't have his cloak. They headed up the street, heads bowed against the wind, Ron and Hermione shouting through their scarves.
“That's the post office —”
“Zonko's is up there —”
“We could go up to the Shrieking Shack —”
“Tell you what,” said Ron, his teeth chattering, “shall we go for a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks?”
Harry was more than willing; the wind was fierce and his hands were freezing, so they crossed the road, and in a few minutes were entering the tiny inn.
It was extremely crowded, noisy, warm, and smoky. A curvy sort of woman with a pretty face was serving a bunch of rowdy warlocks up at the bar.
“That's Madam Rosmerta,” said Ron. “I'll get the drinks, shall I?” he added, going slightly red.
Harry and Hermione made their way to the back of the room, where there was a small, vacant table between the window and a handsome Christmas tree, which stood next to the fireplace. Ron came back five minutes later, carrying three foaming tankards of hot butterbeer.
“Merry Christmas!” he said happily, raising his tankard.
Harry drank deeply. It was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted and seemed to heat every bit of him from the inside.
A sudden breeze ruffled his hair. The door of the Three Broomsticks had opened again. Harry looked over the rim of his tankard and choked.
Professors McGonagall and Flitwick had just entered the pub with a flurry of snowflakes, shortly followed by Hagrid, who was deep in conversation with a portly man in a lime-green bowler hat and a pinstriped cloak — Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic.
In an instant, Ron and Hermione had both placed hands on the top of Harry's head and forced him off his stool and under the table. Dripping with butterbeer and crouching out of sight, Harry clutched his empty tankard and watched the teachers’ and Fudge's feet move toward the bar, pause, then turn and walk right toward him.
Somewhere above him, Hermione whispered, “Mobiliarbus!”
The Christmas tree beside their table rose a few inches off the ground, drifted sideways, and landed with a soft thump right in front of their table, hiding them from view. Staring through the dense lower branches, Harry saw four sets of chair legs move back from the table right beside theirs, then heard the grunts and sighs of the teachers and minister as they sat down.
Next he saw another pair of feet, wearing sparkly turquoise high heels, and heard a woman's voice.
“A small gillywater —”
“Mine,” said Professor McGonagall's voice.
“Four pints of mulled mead —”
“Ta, Rosmerta,” said Hagrid.
“A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella —”
“Mmm!” said Professor Flitwick, smacking his lips.
“So you'll be the red currant rum, Minister.”
“Thank you, Rosmerta, m'dear,” said Fudge's voice. “Lovely to see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us…”
“Well, thank you very much, Minister.”
Harry watched the glittering heels march away and back again. His heart was pounding uncomfortably in his throat. Why hadn't it occurred to him that this was the last weekend of term for the teachers too? And how long were they going to sit there? He needed time to sneak back into Honeydukes if he wanted to return to school tonight … Hermione's leg gave a nervous twitch next to him.
“So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?” came Madam Rosmerta's voice.
Harry saw the lower part of Fudge's thick body twist in his chair as though he were checking for eavesdroppers. Then he said in a quiet voice, “What else, m'dear, but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school at Halloween?”
“I did hear a rumor,” admitted Madam Rosmerta.
“Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?” said Professor McGonagall exasperatedly.
“Do you think Black's still in the area, Minister?” whispered Madam Rosmerta.
“I'm sure of it,” said Fudge shortly.
“You know that the Dementors have searched the whole village twice?” said Madam Rosmerta, a slight edge to her voice. “Scared all my customers away…It's very bad for business, Minister.”
“Rosmerta, dear, I don't like them any more than you do,” said Fudge uncomfortably. “Necessary precaution… unfortunate, but there you are…I've just met some of them. They're in a fury against Dumbledore — he won't let them inside the castle grounds.”
“I should think not,” said Professor McGonagall sharply. “How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around?”
“Hear, hear!” squeaked tiny Professor Flitwick, whose feet were dangling a foot from the ground.
“All the same,” demurred Fudge, “they are here to protect you all from something much worse…We all know what Black's capable of…”
“Do you know, I still have trouble believing it,” said Madam Rosmerta thoughtfully. “Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought…I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me then what he was going to become, I'd have said you'd had too much mead.”
“You don't know the half of it, Rosmerta,” said Fudge gruffly. “The worst he did isn't widely known.”
“The worst?” said Madam Rosmerta, her voice alive with curiosity. “Worse than murdering all those poor people, you mean?”
“I certainly do,” said Fudge.
“I can't believe that. What could possibly be worse?”
“You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta,” murmured Professor McGonagall. “Do you remember who his best friend was?”
“Naturally,” said Madam Rosmerta, with a small laugh. “Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here — ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!”
Harry dropped his tankard with a loud clunk. Ron kicked him.
“Precisely,” said Professor McGonagall. “Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course — exceptionally bright, in fact — but I don't think we've ever had such a pair of troublemakers —”
“I dunno,” chuckled Hagrid. “Fred and George Weasley could give ‘em a run fer their money.”
“You'd have thought Black and Potter were brothers!” chimed in Professor Flitwick. “Inseparable!”
“Of course they were,” said Fudge. “Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Harry. Harry has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him.”
“Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?” whispered Madam Rosmerta.
“Worse even than that, m'dear…” Fudge dropped his voice and proceeded in a sort of low rumble. “Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was of course working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn't an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm.”
“How does that work?” said Madam Rosmerta, breathless with interest. Professor Flitwick cleared his throat.
“An immensely complex spell,” he said squeakily, “involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find — unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!”
“So Black was the Potters’ Secret-Keeper?” whispered Madam Rosmerta.
“Naturally,” said Professor McGonagall. “James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself…and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potters’ Secret-Keeper himself.”
“He suspected Black?” gasped Madam Rosmerta.
“He was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements,” said Professor McGonagall darkly. “Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who.”
“But James Potter insisted on using Black?”
“He did,” said Fudge heavily. “And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed —”
“Black betrayed them?” breathed Madam Rosmerta.
“He did indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planned this for the moment of the Potters’ death. But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Harry Potter. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His master had fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colors as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it —”
“Filthy, stinkin’ turncoat!” Hagrid said, so loudly that half the bar went quiet.
“Shh!” said Professor McGonagall.
“I met him!” growled Hagrid. “I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all them people! It was me what rescued Harry from Lily an’ James's house after they was killed! Jus’ got him outta the ruins, poor little thing, with a great slash across his forehead, an’ his parents dead…an’ Sirius Black turns up, on that flyin’ motorbike he used ter ride. Never occurred ter me what he was doin’ there. I didn’ know he'd bin Lily an’ James's Secret-Keeper. Thought he'd jus’ heard the news o’ You-Know-Who's attack an’ come ter see what he could do. White an’ shakin', he was. An’ yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN’ TRAITOR!” Hagrid roared.
“Hagrid, please!” said Professor McGonagall. “Keep your voice down!”
“How was I ter know he wasn’ upset abou’ Lily an’ James? It was You-Know-Who he cared abou'! An’ then he says, “Give Harry ter me, Hagrid, I'm his godfather, I'll look after him —” Ha! But I'd had me orders from Dumbledore, an’ I told Black no, Dumbledore said Harry was ter go ter his aunt an’ uncle's. Black argued, but in the end he gave in. Told me ter take his motorbike ter get Harry there. “I won't need it anymore,” he says.
“I shoulda known there was somethin’ fishy goin’ on then. He loved that motorbike, what was he givin’ it ter me for? Why wouldn’ he need it anymore? Fact was, it was too easy ter trace. Dumbledore knew he'd bin the Potters’ Secret-Keeper. Black knew he was goin’ ter have ter run fer it that night, knew it was a matter o’ hours before the Ministry was after him.
“But what if I'd given Harry to him, eh? I bet he'd've pitched him off the bike halfway out ter sea. His bes’ friends’ son! But when a wizard goes over ter the Dark Side, there's nothin’ and no one that matters to em anymore…”
A long silence followed Hagrid's story. Then Madam Rosmerta said with some satisfaction, “But he didn't manage to disappear, did he? The Ministry of Magic caught up with him next day!”
“Alas, if only we had,” said Fudge bitterly. “It was not we who found him. It was little Peter Pettigrew — another of the Potters’ friends. Maddened by grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Potters’ Secret-Keeper, he went after Black himself.”
“Pettigrew…that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?” said Madam Rosmerta.
“Hero-worshipped Black and Potter,” said Professor McGonagall. “Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I — how I regret that now…” She sounded as though she had a sudden head cold.
“There, now, Minerva,” said Fudge kindly, “Pettigrew died a hero's death. Eyewitnesses — Muggles, of course, we wiped their memories later — told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing, ‘Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?’ And then he went for his wand. Well, of course, Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens….”
Professor McGonagall blew her nose and said thickly, “Stupid boy…foolish boy…he was always hopeless at dueling…should have left it to the Ministry …”
“I tell yeh, if I'd got ter Black before little Pettigrew did, I wouldn't've messed around with wands — I'd ‘ve ripped him limb — from — limb,” Hagrid growled.
“You don't know what you're talking about, Hagrid,” said Fudge sharply. “Nobody but trained Hit Wizards from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad would have stood a chance against Black once he was cornered. I was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time, and I was one of the first on the scene after Black murdered all those people. I — I will never forget it. I still dream about it sometimes. A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him…a heap of bloodstained robes and a few — a few fragments —”
Fudge's voice stopped abruptly. There was the sound of five noses being blown.
“Well, there you have it, Rosmerta,” said Fudge thickly. “Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad and Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Class, which I think was some comfort to his poor mother. Black's been in Azkaban ever since.”
Madam Rosmerta let out a long sigh.
“Is it true he's mad, Minister?”
“I wish I could say that he was,” said Fudge slowly. “I certainly believe his master's defeat unhinged him for a while. The murder of Pettigrew and all those Muggles was the action of a cornered and desperate man — cruel… pointless. Yet I met Black on my last inspection of Azkaban. You know, most of the prisoners in there sit muttering to themselves in the dark; there's no sense in them…but I was shocked at how normal Black seemed. He spoke quite rationally to me. It was unnerving. You'd have thought he was merely bored — asked if I'd finished with my newspaper, cool as you please, said he missed doing the crossword. Yes, I was astounded at how little effect the Dementors seemed to be having on him — and he was one of the most heavily guarded in the place, you know. Dementors outside his door day and night.”
“But what do you think he's broken out to do?” said Madam Rosmerta. “Good gracious, Minister, he isn't trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he?”
“I daresay that is his — er — eventual plan,” said Fudge evasively. “But we hope to catch Black long before that. I must say, You-Know-Who alone and friendless is one thing…but give him back his most devoted servant, and I shudder to think how quickly he'll rise again…”
There was a small chink of glass on wood. Someone had set down their glass.
“You know, Cornelius, if you're dining with the headmaster, we'd better head back up to the castle,” said Professor McGonagall.
One by one, the pairs of feet in front of Harry took the weight of their owners once more; hems of cloaks swung into sight, and Madam Rosmerta's glittering heels disappeared behind the bar. The door of the Three Broomsticks opened again, there was another flurry of snow, and the teachers had disappeared.
“Harry?”
Ron's and Hermione's faces appeared under the table. They were both staring at him, lost for words.
　波姆弗雷女士坚持哈利留在医院直到星期一，他没有争辩也没有埋怨，但是他不让她把灵光2000的破碎的残屑扔掉，他知道这样做很蠢，因为他知道灵光2000已经不能修理的，但是哈利还是要留着，他觉得他失去一个最要好的朋友。
　　很多人都来看望他，都想让他高兴起来。哈格力送他一扎像黄色卷心菜一样的花，金妮。威斯则红着脸送他一张她自己做的“康复”卡。那卡唱着悦耳的歌直到哈利合上它并放在那篮水果下面。格林芬顿队员在星期六早上又来探望他。这次伍德也来了，他用低沉的声音告诉哈利，他一点也不责怪哈利。晚上，只有罗恩和荷米恩留在哈利床边。但是他们说什么都不能让哈利振奋起来，因为他们知道哈利想找他的扫帚的另一半。
　　他没有把格拉菲的事告诉任何人，连同罗恩和荷米恩，因为他知道罗恩会受惊而荷米恩则会嘲笑的，这个事实已经出现两次了，两次的出现都导致致命的后果，第一次，他差点被爵士巴士辗过，第二次，他在五十尺的空中从扫帚上掉下来。是否格拉菲会一直缠着他直到他真正地死去？是否他下半生都要上下左右望来看那东西是否在旁？
　　还有那些得蒙特，哈利每次想到他们都觉得作呕和侮辱，每个人都说得蒙特很恐怖，但他们中没有一个在他们靠近时晕倒过去……
　　没有人听到他父母在临死前的尖叫。
　　因为哈利现在知道那些尖叫是属于谁的，他听到她的话了，晚上在医院他醒着躺床上，看着天花板上的月亮时，他一次又一次听到那些话，当得蒙特靠近他的时候，他就听到他妈妈临死前的尖叫，她在保护他——哈利，不让福尔得摩特伤害他，还听到福尔得摩特杀他母亲前的狂笑，哈利间歇地打着瞌睡，梦到各种各样的湿冷的，腐烂的手，恐怖的请求，猛地醒来，又听到他妈妈的尖叫声。
　　星期一可以回到嘈杂的校园里面对哈利来说是释放了。在那里，他被迫要想其它的事，虽然他还是要忍受杰高。马尔夫的嘲笑，马尔夫总是在他身旁取笑着格林芬顿队的失败，他终于把绷带拿下来，他在庆祝他双手的恢复，并不厌其烦地模仿哈利从扫帚上跌下来的姿态。马尔夫在药剂课大部分时间都在模仿得蒙特进来的样子。罗恩最后忍不住了，把一个大大的滑滑的跟鱼心甩过去，恰恰打在他的脸上，这样史纳皮又扣了格林芬顿五十分。
　　“如果史纳皮教授又上我们的黑巫术防御课，我要晕了。”罗恩在吃过午餐后向露平的教室走去时说，“先看看谁在里面，荷米恩。”
　　荷米恩从门缝里偷看进去。
　　“没事了。”
　　露平教授回来了。他看上去的确是病过的样子，他的旧衣服在他身上显得更加宽松了，他眼下面有黑黑的眼圈，但是，同学们坐下时，他还是向同学们笑笑，立即班里的人开始对史纳皮教授在露平病的时候上课的事展开轰炸。
　　“太不公平了，他只是代课，为什么要给我们布置作业呢？”
　　“我们对狼人一点都不知道。”
　　“要写两卷羊皮纸。”
　　“你们有告诉史纳皮教授我们还没学过吗？”露平微微皱着眉头问。
　　埋怨声又炸开了。
　　“——他就是不听——”
　　“——两卷羊皮纸！——”
　　露平教授看着一张张愤怒的脸，微笑着。
　　“不要担心，我会跟史纳皮教授说说的，你们不必写那论文了。”
　　“哦，不。”荷米恩在很失望地说，“我已经写了。”
　　他们的课程很轻松愉快，露平教授带了装了一只亨凯普的玻璃盒来，亨凯普是一只只有一条腿的动物，它好像由一缕缕的烟组成，样子很脆弱而且一点都不吓人的。
　　“它们在沼泽地游行，”露平教授说，他们在做笔记，“你们都看到他们手中吊着的灯笼了吗？向前单腿跃——人们就跟着那灯，然后——”
　　亨凯普在玻璃盒里发出一声尖锐的叫声。
　　下课铃响了，大家都收拾好东西向门外走去，哈利也跟着，但是——“哈利，等一会儿，”露平叫住他，“我想跟你说几句。”
　　哈利转过头来，看着露平教授用一块布盖着装有亨凯普的盒子。
　　“我听到比赛的事了，”露平说，转过身去开始收拾书本放到手提箱里。“听到你的扫帚的事，我也很难过，有可能重新修理它吗？”
　　“不可能，”哈利说，“那树已经把它拆碎了。”
　　露平叹了口气。
　　“我到霍格瓦彻那年他们种了一棵胡宾柳树。那时人们喜欢玩一种游戏，尝试走近去碰一下那树，一个叫戴维。格翰的男孩差点没了一只眼睛，我们之后就禁止靠近它了。没有扫帚能幸免的。”
　　“你也听过得蒙特的事吗？”哈利艰难地说。
　　“是的，我听过。我们都没见过丹伯多那么生气的，他们近来变得很不安静…
　　…对他不让他们进来感到很气愤……我想他们是你掉下来的原因吧？“
　　“是的，”哈利说，他犹豫了，然后他不禁问，“为什么？为什么他们能够那样影响我？是否因为我真的只是太——？”
　　“这跟懦弱一点关系都没有。”露平教授尖锐地说，他好像看懂哈利的心思似的，“得蒙特最能影响你是因为你过去有可怕的事而大家却没有。”
　　一缕寒冷的阳光射进教室，照亮了露平的银发和他年青的脸上的皱纹。
　　“得蒙特是地球上最可怕之一的生物，他们在最黑暗、最肮脏的地方生存，他们在腐朽和绝望中成长，他们把身边空气中的和平，希望和幸福磨灭，连马格的人都能感觉到他们的存在，即使他们看不到，如果太接近一只得蒙特，你的好心情，愉快的记忆就会被吸走。
　　如果他可以的话，得蒙特就附在你身上很长时间直到你变成像他一样——无情和凶残，你就只剩下你一生中最惨痛的经历。发生在你身上最坏的情况只是让你从扫帚上掉下来而已，你没有什么好责备自己的。“”当他们接近我的时候——“哈利望着露平的桌子，他的喉咙缩紧，”我能够听到福尔得摩特杀我妈妈。“
　　他把手慢慢地放在哈利的肩膀上，用力抓着他的肩，他想这样会好一点。他们之间出现了一阵沉默，然后——“为什么他们在我比赛的时候来？”哈利痛苦地说。
　　“他们饿了，”露平冷冷地说，砰的一声合上他的手提箱，“丹伯多不让他们走进学校，因此他们的食物已经没了……我想他们禁不住快迪斯球场上的一大群人的诱惑，还有那种兴奋……同学们的情绪高扬……这都是吃的诱惑。”
　　“阿兹克班一定是很可怕的。”哈利低声说，露平哀愁地点点头。
　　“那碉堡设在一个小小的岛上，在遥远的海上，但是他们不用墙来关住那些罪犯，当他们落在他们手里，根本就不能有兴奋一点的思想，他们中大部分几个星期内就疯了。”
　　“但是西里斯。巴拉克还是从他们手中逃出来了。”哈利慢慢地说，“他逃掉了……”
　　露平的手提箱从桌子上向下滑，他迅速伸手扶着它。
　　“是的，”他站直身说，“巴拉克肯定是找到对付他们的方法，我简直不能相信……得蒙特可以抽取一个巫师的能量的，如果在一起有足够长的时候的话……”
　　“你把火车上那得蒙特赶下去的？”哈利突然问。
　　“有一些措施我们可以采取的。”露平说。“但那时火车上只有一只得蒙特。
　　如果有多一些的话，那就变得很难了。“
　　“什么防御措施？”哈利立即问，“你可以教我吗？”
　　“我不假装我是打得蒙特的能手，哈利，恰恰相反……”
　　“但是如果得蒙特下次又在快迪斯比赛出现我得会对付他们——”
　　露平看着哈利坚决的脸，犹豫了一下，然后说，“嗯，好吧，我试一试来帮你，但是要等到下个学期了。我在放假前有很多事要干，我挑了一个很不方便的时间来养病。”
　　露平答应他教他对付得蒙特的方法。可以不用再听到他妈妈的喊声，还有卫文卡罗队在他们十一月底的快迪斯比赛中大胜海夫巴夫的消息，这些都是哈利心情大大地好转了。格林芬顿队始终都没有被淘汰，虽然他们已经不能再输了。伍德重新抬回信心，更加勤奋地操练他的队员，不顾冰冻的雨一直坚持到十二月，哈利之后也没有在校园内见到过得蒙特，丹怕多的怒气似乎能有效地保持他们只驻扎在人口住。
　　学期结束之前的两个星期，天空突然明亮起来了。灿烂的阳光发出乳白色的光，一个早上泥泞的操场铺上一层霜。城堡里面充满圣诞的气氛。费立维克教授，那咒语课老师，已经用闪闪发亮的灯把课室布置得很漂亮了，像神奇的童话世界一样。
　　学生都在兴高采烈地讨论他们的假期计划了。罗恩和荷米恩都决定留在学校里面。
　　罗恩说他不想两个星期在家对着伯希，而荷米恩说她要用学校的图书馆。哈利没有被骗，他们这样的做都是为了陪着他，他很感激。
　　除了哈利，大家都很高兴知道在学期末的最后一个星期，他们的又可以去霍格马得了。
　　“我们可以在那里买圣诞礼物！”荷米恩说，“爸爸妈妈肯定很喜欢从‘甜鸭’那买的绳曼（一种糖）的。”
　　又要去接受他是三年级中唯一留下的这样的事实了，哈利向伍德借了一本《谁的扫帚》，决定花一天的时候来看里面不同牌子的扫帚。他在队里训练的时候，他一直在骑学校的扫帚，是一把旧的投射星牌子的扫帚，又摇又慢，他很需要买一把新的扫帚。
　　星期六早上的霍格马得之行，哈利又去送罗恩和荷米恩，他们都穿着大衣和围衣。哈利一个人走上大理石阶梯，往格利芬顿塔走。
　　外面开始下起雪来，城堡里很安静。
　　“哈利，喂！”
　　他走在三楼的走廊上，转过身去看到弗来德和乔治从一个驼背的单眼的巫婆雕塑后面偷偷地膘着他。
　　“你们在干什么？”哈利好奇地问，“你们怎么不去霍格马得？”
　　“我们准备在离开之前送你一点惊喜的东西，”弗来德神秘地延着眼睛说，“过来这边……”
　　他向单眼雕塑左边的空教室点点头，哈利跟着弗来德和乔治进去了。弗来德轻轻关上门，转过头去看着哈利，笑眯眯地样子。
　　“预先给你的圣诞礼物，哈利。”他说。
　　弗来德从他大衣里高兴地抽出一些东西，把它放在桌子上，这是一张很大，方方的破！日的羊皮纸，上面什么也没有写。哈利怀疑是弗来德或乔治的玩笑，只是盯着它。
　　“那是什么呀？”
　　“这是，是我们成功的秘密。”乔治喜爱地拍打着羊皮纸。
　　“这是一个帮手，送给你的。”弗来德说，“但是我们昨天才决定，你比我们更加需要。”
　　“无论如何，我们知道它管用，”乔治说，“我们把它留给你，我们真的不再需要了。”
　　“我所需要的是一张旧的羊皮纸？”哈利问。
　　“一张旧羊皮纸！”弗来德说，他闭着眼睛做了个鬼脸，好像哈利精神上冒犯了他一样。“乔治你给他解释。”
　　“哦……，当我们读一年级的时候，年青，无忧无虑，天真——”
　　哈利哼了一声。他在怀疑弗来德和乔治是否曾经天真过。
　　“——噢，比我们现在天真的吧——我们曾经和费驰发生过争执。”
　　“我们放了一个小炸弹在走廊上，这是让他不安的某些原因。”
　　“因此他叫我们去他办公室，开始威胁我们——”
　　“留堂。”
　　“我们看到他的文件柜里的屉柜里有一本显眼的《没收和高危险物品》。”
　　“别告诉我你们——”哈利说，他开始笑。
　　“嗯，如果是你，你会怎样？”弗来德说，“乔治又投了一个炸弹来转移他的注意力，我拉开抽柜然后拿起这个——”
　　“没有听起来那么坏的，你知道，”乔治说，“我想费驰没有想到怎样做的。
　　他很可能怀疑那是什么，如果不是他就不会没收了。“
　　“你们知道怎样做的？”
　　“哦，是的！”弗来德狡猾地说，“这本宝贝教了我们比这学校的老师教的还多。”
　　“你们在蒙我吧？”哈利说，他看着那又破又旧的羊皮纸。
　　“哦，是吗？”乔治。
　　他拿出他的魔杖，轻轻碰碰那羊皮纸，说，“我严肃地宣告我很没用。”
　　立即，细细的墨水以乔治的魔杖碰到的那点为中心像蜘蛛网一样散开，细细的墨水线互相连接起来，伸向羊皮纸的进入角落，字开始在上面出现，很大，弯弯的青色字母，写着：魔法淘气者的助手与协助商自豪地推出掠夺者的地图这是很详细的霍格瓦彻里城堡和地室的地图，但最奇妙的是那些细细的墨水点在移动着，用草写小字在每个地方标上地名和人物，哈利惊讶地弯下腰去看，左上角的小点显示丹伯多教授在他的书房里踱着步，管理员的猫，诺丽丝夫人正向二楼走，还有那喧闹鬼皮维斯现在在纪念物房间里上下地跳跃着，当哈利的眼睛在熟识的走廊上扫来扫去时，他总能看到其它东西。
　　地图显示很多他还未去过的通路，而且很多都好像通向——“通往霍格马得，”
　　弗来德说，他用手指指着路线，“总共有七条路，现在费驰知道这四条——”他指出来，“但是，我们肯定我们是唯一知道这些路的人，不要看这四楼的镜子后面那条，我们去年冬天走过，但是不能通过——完全被堵住了。我想也没有人用这条路的了，因为胡宾柳树就是种在入口处。但是，看这条，这条路直接通向霍格瓦彻的地下室。我们经常用这条路的，你可能已经注意到了，入口就在这课室外面，就在刚才那单眼女人的驼背上。”
　　“对了，”乔治简明地说，“用完后别忘了擦擦它——”
　　“要不每个人都会看见的。”弗来德警告地说。
　　“只要再拍一下说‘淘气完了’，它就会变成空白了。”
　　“所以，年青的哈利，”弗来德用伯希的口气说，“注意自己的行为。”
　　“在霍格马得中见你吧。”乔治眨着眼睛说。
　　他们离开了教室，很得意且满意的样子。
　　哈利站在那里，看着神奇的地图，他看着细细的墨水显示诺丽丝转左，又停下来在地板上找些东西。如果费驰真的不知道……他也不用经过丹伯多……虽然他还站在那里，他脑里充满了兴奋，但是威斯里先生跟他说的话又在脑海里回荡。
　　“千万不要相信会自己想的事物，如果你不知道它的脑袋在那里的话。”
　　这地图正是威斯里先生所警告的危险的物体——魔法淘气者的指南……但之后，哈利说服了自己，他只想用它来到达霍格马得，他又不是想去偷什么或攻击谁……
　　而且弗来德和乔治用了几年都没有什么恐怖的事情发生……
　　哈利用手指寻找去甜鸭的通路。
　　然后，突然间，他好像要去执行命令一样，他把地图卷起来塞进衣服里，然后匆匆走到课堂门前，把门打开几寸，外面没有人，他非常小心地走出课堂，蹑手蹑脚地走到单眼巫婆雕塑后面。
　　他要做什么呢？他又拉出地图来看，让他奇怪
Chapter 14 Snape's Grudge
No one in Gryffindor Tower slept that night. They knew that the castle was being searched again, and the whole House stayed awake in the common room, waiting to hear whether Black had been caught. Professor McGonagall came back at dawn, to tell them that he had again escaped.
Throughout the day, everywhere they went they saw signs of tighter security; Professor Flitwick could be seen teaching the front doors to recognize a large picture of Sirius Black; Filch was suddenly bustling up and down the corridors, boarding up everything from tiny cracks in the walls to mouse holes. Sir Cadogan had been fired. His portrait had been taken back to its lonely landing on the seventh floor, and the Fat Lady was back. She had been expertly restored, but was still extremely nervous, and had agreed to return to her job only on condition that she was given extra protection. A bunch of surly security trolls had been hired to guard her. They paced the corridor in a menacing group, talking in grunts and comparing the size of their clubs.
Harry couldn't help noticing that the statue of the one-eyed witch on the third floor remained unguarded and unblocked. It seemed that Fred and George had been right in thinking that they — and now Harry, Ron, and Hermione — were the only ones who knew about the hidden passageway within it.
“D'you reckon we should tell someone?” Harry asked Ron.
“We know he's not coming in through Honeyduke's,” said Ron dismissively. “We'd've heard if the shop had been broken into.”
Harry was glad Ron took this view. If the one-eyed witch was boarded up too, he would never be able to go into Hogsmeade again.
Ron had become an instant celebrity. For the first time in his life, people were paying more attention to him than to Harry, and it was clear that Ron was rather enjoying the experience. Though still severely shaken by the night's events, he was happy to tell anyone who asked what had happened, with a wealth of detail.
“… I was asleep, and I heard this ripping noise, and I thought it was in my dream, you know? But then there was this draft…I woke up and one side of the hangings on my bed had been pulled down…I rolled over…and I saw him standing over me…like a skeleton, with loads of filthy hair…holding this great long knife, must've been twelve inches…and he looked at me, and I looked at him, and then I yelled, and he scampered.
“Why, though?” Ron added to Harry as the group of second year girls who had been listening to his chilling tale departed. “Why did he run?”
Harry had been wondering the same thing. Why had Black, having got the wrong bed, not silenced Ron and proceeded to Harry? Black had proved twelve years ago that he didn't mind murdering innocent people, and this time he had been facing five unarmed boys, four of whom were asleep.
“He must've known he'd have a job getting back out of the castle once you'd yelled and woken people up,” said Harry thoughtfully. “He'd've had to kill the whole house to get back through the portrait hole…then he would've met the teachers…”
Neville was in total disgrace. Professor McGonagall was so furious with him she had banned him from all future Hogsmeade visits, given him a detention, and forbidden anyone to give him the password into the tower. Poor Neville was forced to wait. outside the common room every night for somebody to let him in, while the security trolls leered unpleasantly at him. None of these punishments, however, came close to matching the one his grandmother had in store for him. Two days after Black's break-in, she sent Neville the very worst thing a Hogwarts student could receive over breakfast — a Howler.
The school owls swooped into the Great Hall carrying the mail as usual, and Neville choked as a huge barn owl landed in front of him, a scarlet envelope clutched in its beak. Harry and Ron, who were sitting opposite him, recognized the letter as a Howler at once — Ron had got one from his mother the year before.
“Run for it, Neville,” Ron advised.
Neville didn't need telling twice. He seized the envelope, and holding it before him like a bomb, sprinted out of the hall, while the Slytherin table exploded with laughter at the sight of him. They heard the Howler go off in the entrance hall — Neville's grandmother's voice, magically magnified to a hundred times its usual volume, shrieking about how he had brought shame on the whole family.
Harry was too busy feeling sorry for Neville to notice immediately that he had a letter too. Hedwig got his attention by nipping him sharply on the wrist.
“Ouch! Oh — thanks, Hedwig.”
Harry tore open the envelope while Hedwig helped herself to some of Neville's cornflakes. The note inside said:
Dear Harry and Ron, 
How about having tea with me this afternoon ‘round six? I'll come collect you from the castle. WAIT FOR ME IN THE ENTRANCE HALL; YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED OUT ON YOUR OWN. 
Cheers, 
Hagrid 
“He probably wants to hear all about Black!” said Ron.
So at six o'clock that afternoon, Harry and Ron left Gryffindor Tower, passed the security trolls at a run, and headed down to the entrance hall.
Hagrid was already waiting for them.
“All right, Hagrid!” said Ron. “S'pose you want to hear about Saturday night, do you?”
“I've already heard all abou’ it,” said Hagrid, opening the front doors and leading them outside.
“Oh,” said Ron, looking slightly put out.
The first thing they saw on entering Hagrid's cabin was Buckbeak, who was stretched out on top of Hagrid's patchwork quilt, his enormous wings folded tight to his body, enjoying a large plate of dead ferrets. Averting his eyes from this unpleasant sight, Harry saw a gigantic, hairy brown suit and a very horrible yellow-and-orange tie hanging from the top of Hagrid's wardrobe door.
“What are they for, Hagrid?” said Harry.
“Buckbeak's case against the Committee fer the Disposal o’ Dangerous Creatures,” said Hagrid. “This Friday. Him an’ me'll be goin’ down ter London together. I've booked two beds on the Knight Bus….”
Harry felt a nasty pang of guilt. He had completely forgotten that Buckbeak's trial was so near, and judging by the uneasy look on Ron's face, he had too. They had also forgotten their promise about helping him prepare Buckbeak's defense; the arrival of the Firebolt had driven it clean out of their minds.
Hagrid poured them tea and offered them a plate of Bath buns but they knew better than to accept; they had had too much experience with Hagrid's cooking.
“I got somethin’ ter discuss with you two,” said Hagrid, sitting himself between them and looking uncharacteristically serious.
“What?” said Harry.
“Hermione,” said Hagrid.
“What about her?” said Ron.
“She's in a righ’ state, that's what. She's bin comin’ down ter visit me a lot since Chris'mas. Bin feelin’ lonely. Firs’ yeh weren’ talking to her because o’ the Firebolt, now yer not talkin’ to her because her cat —”
“- ate Scabbers!” Ron interjected angrily.
“Because her cat acted like all cats do,” Hagrid continued doggedly. “She's cried a fair few times, yeh know. Goin’ through a rough time at the moment. Bitten off more'n she can chew, if yeh ask me, all the work she's tryin’ ter do. Still found time ter help me with Buckbeak's case, mind…She's found some really good stuff fer me…reckon he'll stand a good chance now…”
“Hagrid, we should've helped as well — sorry —” Harry began awkwardly.
“I'm not blamin’ yeh!” said Hagrid, waving Harry's apology aside. “Gawd knows yeh've had enough ter be getting’ on with. I've seen yeh practicin’ Quidditch ev'ry hour o’ the day an’ night — but I gotta tell yeh, I thought you two'd value yer friend more'n broomsticks or rats. Tha's all.”
Harry and Ron exchanged uncomfortable looks.
“Really upset, she was, when Black nearly stabbed yeh, Ron. She's got her heart in the right place, Hermione has, an’ you two not talkin’ to her —”
“If she'd just get rid of that cat, I'd speak to her again!” Ron said angrily. “But she's still sticking up for it! It's a maniac, and she won't hear a word against it!”
“Ah, well, people can be a bit stupid abou’ their pets,” said Hagrid wisely. Behind him, Buckbeak spat a few ferret bones onto Hagrid's pillow.
They spent the rest of their visit discussing Gryffindor's improved chances for the Quidditch Cup. At nine o'clock, Hagrid walked them back up to the castle.
A large group of people was bunched around the bulletin board when they returned to the common room.
“Hogsmeade, next weekend!” said Ron, craning over the heads to read the new notice. “What d'you reckon?” he added quietly to Harry as they went to sit down.
“Well, Filch hasn't done anything about the passage into Honeydukes…” Harry said, even more quietly.
“Harry!” said a voice in his right ear. Harry started and looked around at Hermione, who was sitting at the table right behind them and clearing a space in the wall of books that had been hiding her.
“Harry, if you go into Hogsmeade again…I'll tell Professor McGonagall about that map!” said Hermione.
“Can you hear someone talking, Harry?” growled Ron, not looking at Hermione.
“Ron, how can you let him go with you? After what Sirius Black nearly did to you! I mean it, I'll tell —”
“So now you're trying to get Harry expelled!” said Ron furiously. “Haven't you done enough damage this year?”
Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but with a soft hiss, Crookshanks leapt onto her lap. Hermione took one frightened look at the expression on Ron's face, gathered up Crookshanks, and hurried away toward the girls’ dormitories.
“So how about it?” Ron said to Harry as though there had been no interruption. “Come on, last time we went you didn't see anything. You haven't even been inside Zonko's yet!”
Harry looked around to check that Hermione was well out of earshot.
“Okay,” he said. “But I'm taking the Invisibility Cloak this time.”
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*
On Saturday morning, Harry packed his Invisibility Cloak in his bag, slipped the Marauder's Map into his pocket, and went down to breakfast with everyone else. Hermione kept shooting suspicious looks down the table at him, but he avoided her eye and was careful to let her see him walking back up the marble staircase in the entrance hall as everybody else proceeded to the front doors.
“Bye!” Harry called to Ron. “See you when you get back!”
Ron grinned and winked.
Harry hurried up to the third floor, slipping the Marauder's Map out of his pocket as he went. Crouching behind the one-eyed witch, he smoothed it out. A tiny dot was moving in his direction. Harry squinted at it. The minuscule writing next to it read Neville Longbottom.
Harry quickly pulled out his wand, muttered, “Dissendium!” and shoved his bag into the statue, but before he could climb in himself, Neville came around the corner.
“Harry! I forgot you weren't going to Hogsmeade either!”
“Hi, Neville,” said Harry, moving swiftly away from the statue and pushing the map back into his pocket. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing,” shrugged Neville. “Want a game of Exploding Snap?”
“Er — not now — I was going to go to the library and do that vampire essay for Lupin —”
“I'll come with you!” said Neville brightly. “I haven't done it either!”
“Er — hang on — yeah, I forgot, I finished it last night!”
“Great, you can help me!” said Neville, his round face anxious. “I don't understand that thing about the garlic at all — do they have to eat it, or —”
He broke off with a small gasp, looking over Harry's shoulder.
It was Snape. Neville took a quick step behind Harry.
“And what are you two doing here?” said Snape, coming to a halt and looking from one to the other. “An odd place to meet —”
To Harry's immense disquiet, Snape's black eyes flicked to the doorways on either side of them, and then to the one-eyed witch.
“We're not — meeting here,” said Harry. “We just — met here.”
“Indeed?” said Snape. “You have a habit of turning up in unexpected places, Potter, and you are very rarely there for no good reason…I suggest the pair of you return to Gryffindor Tower, where you belong.”
Harry and Neville set off without another word. As they turned the corner, Harry looked back. Snape was running one of his hands over the one-eyed witch's head, examining it closely.
Harry managed to shake Neville off at the Fat Lady by telling him the password, then pretending he'd left his vampire essay in the library and doubling back. Once out of sight of the security trolls, he pulled out the map again and held it close to his nose.
The third floor corridor seemed to be deserted. Harry scanned the map carefully and saw, with a leap of relief, that the tiny dot labeled Severus Snape was now back in its office.
He sprinted back to the one-eyed witch, opened her hump, heaved himself inside, and slid down to meet his bag at the bottom of the stone chute. He wiped the Marauder's Map blank again, then set off at a run.
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*
Harry, completely hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak, emerged into the sunlight outside Honeydukes and prodded Ron in the back.
“It's me,” he muttered.
“What kept you?” Ron hissed.
“Snape was hanging around.”
They set off up the High Street.
“Where are you?” Ron kept muttering out of the corner of his mouth. “Are you still there? This feels weird…”
They went to the post office; Ron pretended to be checking the price of an owl to Bill in Egypt so that Harry could have a good look around. The owls sat hooting softly down at him, at least three hundred of them; from Great Grays right down to tiny little Scops owls (“Local Deliveries Only”), which were so small they could have sat in the palm of Harry's hand.
Then they visited Zonko's, which was so packed with students Harry had to exercise great care not to tread on anyone and cause a panic. There were jokes and tricks to fulfill even Fred's and George's wildest dreams; Harry gave Ron whispered orders and passed him some gold from under the cloak. They left Zonko's with their money bags considerably lighter than they had been on entering, but their pockets bulging with Dungbombs, Hiccup Sweets, Frog Spawn Soap, and a Nose-Biting Teacup apiece.
The day was fine and breezy, and neither of them felt like staying indoors, so they walked past the Three Broomsticks and climbed a slope to visit the Shrieking Shack, the most haunted dwelling in Britain. It stood a little way above the rest of the village, and even in daylight was slightly creepy, with its boarded windows and dank overgrown garden.
“Even the Hogwarts ghosts avoid it,” said Ron as they leaned on the fence, looking up at it. “I asked Nearly Headless Nick…he says he's heard a very rough crowd lives here. No one can get in. Fred and George tried, obviously, but all the entrances are sealed shut…”
Harry, feeling hot from their climb, was just considering taking off the cloak for a few minutes when they heard voices nearby. Someone was climbing toward the house from the other side of the hill; moments later, Malfoy had appeared, followed closely by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy was speaking.
“…should have an owl from Father any time now. He had to go to the hearing to tell them about my arm…about how I couldn't use it for three months…”
Crabbe and Goyle sniggered.
“I really wish I could hear that great hairy moron trying to defend himself…‘There's no ‘arm in ‘im, ‘onest —'…That Hippogriff's as good as dead —”
Malfoy suddenly caught sight of Ron. His pale face split in a malevolent grin.
“What are you doing, Weasley?”
Malfoy looked up at the crumbling house behind Ron.
“Suppose you'd love to live here, wouldn't you, Weasley? Dreaming about having your own bedroom? I heard your family all sleep in one room — is that true?”
Harry seized the back of Ron's robes to stop him from leaping on Malfoy.
“Leave him to me,” he hissed in Ron's ear.
The opportunity was too perfect to miss. Harry crept silently around behind Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, bent down, and scooped a large handful of mud out of the path.
“We were just discussing your friend Hagrid,” Malfoy said to Ron. “Just trying to imagine what he's saying to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. D'you think he'll cry when they cut off his Hippogriff's —”
SPLAT!
Malfoy's head jerked forward as the mud hit him; his silverblond hair was suddenly dripping in muck.
“What the —?”
Ron had to hold onto the fence to keep himself standing, he was laughing so hard. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle spun stupidly on the spot, staring wildly around, Malfoy trying to wipe his hair clean.
“What was that? Who did that?”
“Very haunted up here, isn't it?” said Ron, with the air of one commenting on the weather.
Crabbe and Goyle were looking scared. Their bulging muscles were no use against ghosts. Malfoy was staring madly around at the deserted landscape.
Harry sneaked along the path, where a particularly sloppy puddle yielded some foul-smelling, green sludge.
SPLATTER!
Crabbe and Goyle caught some this time. Goyle hopped furiously on the spot, trying to rub it out of his small, dull eyes.
“It came from over there!” said Malfoy, wiping his face, and staring at a spot some six feet to the left of Harry.
Crabbe blundered forward, his long arms outstretched like a zombie. Harry dodged around him, picked up a stick, and lobbed it at Crabbe's back. Harry doubled up with silent laughter as Crabbe did a kind of pirouette in midair, trying to see who had thrown it. As Ron was the only person Crabbe could see, it was Ron he started toward, but Harry stuck out his leg. Crabbe stumbled — and his huge, flat foot caught the hem of Harry's cloak. Harry felt a great tug, then the cloak slid off his face.
For a split second, Malfoy stared at him.
“AAARGH!” he yelled, pointing at Harry's head. Then he turned tail and ran, at breakneck speed, back down the hill, Crabbe and Goyle behind him.
Harry tugged the cloak up again, but the damage was done.
“Harry!” Ron said, stumbling forward and staring hopelessly at the point where Harry had disappeared, “you'd better run for it! If Malfoy tells anyone — you'd better get back to the castle, quick —”
“See you later,” said Harry, and without another word, he tore back down the path toward Hogsmeade.
Would Malfoy believe what he had seen? Would anyone believe Malfoy? Nobody knew about the Invisibility Cloak — nobody except Dumbledore. Harry's stomach turned over — Dumbledore would know exactly what had happened, if Malfoy said anything —
Back into Honeydukes, back down the cellar steps, across the stone floor, through the trapdoor — Harry pulled off the cloak, tucked it under his arm, and ran, flat out, along the passage…Malfoy would get back first… how long would it take him to find a teacher? Panting, a sharp pain in his side, Harry didn't slow down until he reached the stone slide. He would have to leave the cloak where it was, it was too much of a giveaway in case Malfoy had tipped off a teacher — he hid it in a shadowy corner, then started to climb, fast as he could, his sweaty hands slipping on the sides of the chute. He reached the inside of the witch's hump, tapped it with his wand, stuck his head through, and hoisted himself out; the hump closed, and just as Harry jumped out from behind the statue, he heard quick footsteps approaching.
It was Snape. He approached Harry at a swift walk, his black robes swishing, then stopped in front of him.
“So,” he said.
There was a look of suppressed triumph about him. Harry tried to look innocent, all too aware of his sweaty face and his muddy hands, which he quickly hid in his pockets.
“Come with me, Potter,” said Snape.
Harry followed him downstairs, trying to wipe his hands clean on the inside of his robes without Snape noticing. They walked down the stairs to the dungeons and then into Snape's office.
Harry had been in here only once before, and he had been in very serious trouble then too. Snape had acquired a few more slimy horrible things in jars since last time, all standing on shelves behind his desk, glinting in the firelight and adding to the threatening atmosphere.
“Sit,” said Snape.
Harry sat. Snape, however, remained, standing.
“Mr. Malfoy has just been to see me with a strange story, Potter,” said Snape.
Harry didn't say anything.
“He tells me that he was up by the Shrieking Shack when he ran into Weasley — apparently alone.”
Still, Harry didn't speak.
“Mr. Malfoy states that he was standing talking to Weasley, when a large amount of mud hit him in the back of the head. How do you think that could have happened?”
Harry tried to look mildly surprised.
“I don't know, Professor.”
Snape's eyes were boring into Harry's. It was exactly like trying to stare down a Hippogriff. Harry tried hard not to blink.
“Mr. Malfoy then saw an extraordinary apparition. Can you imagine what it might have been, Potter?”
“No,” said Harry, now trying to sound innocently curious.
“It was your head, Potter. Floating in midair.”
There was a long silence.
“Maybe he'd better go to Madam Pomfrey,” said Harry. “If he's seeing things like —”
“What would your head have been doing in Hogsmeade, Potter?” said Snape softly. “Your head is not allowed in Hogsmeade. No part of your body has permission to be in Hogsmeade.”
“I know that,” said Harry, striving to keep his face free of guilt or fear. “It sounds like Malfoy's having hallucin —”
“Malfoy is not having hallucinations,” snarled Snape, and he bent down, a hand on each arm of Harry's chair, so that their faces were a foot apart. “If your head was in Hogsmeade, so was the rest of you.”
“I've been up in Gryffindor Tower,” said Harry. “Like you told —”
“Can anyone confirm that?”
Harry didn't say anything. Snape's thin mouth curled into a horrible smile.
“So,” he said, straightening up again. “Everyone from the Minister of Magic downward has been trying to keep famous Harry Potter safe from Sirius Black. But famous Harry Potter is a law unto himself. Let the ordinary people worry about his safety! Famous Harry Potter goes where he wants to, with no thought for the consequences.”
Harry stayed silent. Snape was trying to provoke him into telling the truth. He wasn't going to do it. Snape had no proof — yet.
“How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter,” Snape said suddenly, his eyes glinting. “He too was exceedingly arrogant. A small amount of talent on the Quidditch field made him think he was a cut above the rest of us too. Strutting around the place with his friends and admirers…The resemblance between you is uncanny.”
“My dad didn't strut,” said Harry, before he could stop himself. “And neither do I.”
“Your father didn't set much store by rules either,” Snape went on, pressing his advantage, his thin face full of malice. “Rules were for lesser mortals, not Quidditch Cup-winners. His head was so swollen —”
“SHUT UP!”
Harry was suddenly on his feet. Rage such as he had not felt since his last night in Privet Drive was coursing through him. He didn't care that Snape's face had gone rigid, the black eyes flashing dangerously.
“What did you say to me, Potter?”
“I told you to shut up about my dad!” Harry yelled. “I know the truth, all right? He saved your life! Dumbledore told me! You wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for my dad!”
Snape's sallow skin had gone the color of sour milk.
“And did the headmaster tell you the circumstances in which your father saved my life?” he whispered. “Or did he consider the details too unpleasant for precious Potter's delicate ears?”
Harry bit his lip. He didn't know what had happened and didn't want to admit it — but Snape seemed to have guessed the truth.
“I would hate for you to run away with a false idea of your father, Potter,” he said, a terrible grin twisting his face. “Have you been imagining some act of glorious heroism? Then let me correct you — your saintly father and his friends played a highly amusing joke on me that would have resulted in my death if your father hadn't got cold feet at the last moment. There was nothing brave about what he did. He was saving his own skin as much as mine. Had their joke succeeded, he would have been expelled from Hogwarts.”
Snape's uneven, yellowish teeth were bared.
“Turn out your pockets, Potter!” he spat suddenly.
Harry didn't move. There was a pounding in his ears.
“Turn out your pockets, or we go straight to the headmaster! Pull them out, Potter!”
Cold with dread, Harry slowly pulled out the bag of Zonko's tricks and the Marauder's Map.
Snap picked up the Zonko's bag.
“Ron gave them to me,” said Harry, praying he'd get a chance to tip Ron off before Snape saw him. “He brought them back from Hogsmeade last time —”
“Indeed? And you've been carrying them around ever since? How very touching…and what is this?”
Snape had picked up the map. Harry tried with all his might to keep his face impassive.
“Spare bit of parchment,” he said with a shrug.
Snape turned it over, his eyes on Harry.
“Surely you don't need such a very old piece of parchment?” he said. “Why don't I just — throw this away?”
His hand moved toward the fire.
“No!” Harry said quickly.
“So!” said Snape, his long nostrils quivering. “Is this another treasured gift from Mr. Weasley? Or is it — something else? A letter, perhaps, written in invisible ink? Or — instructions to get into Hogsmeade without passing the Dementors?”
Harry blinked. Snape's eyes gleamed.
“Let me see, let me see…” he muttered, taking out his wand and smoothing the map out on his desk. “Reveal your secret!” he said, touching the wand to the parchment.
Nothing happened. Harry clenched his hands to stop them from shaking.
“Show yourself!” Snape said, tapping the map sharply.
It stayed blank. Harry was taking deep, calming breaths.
“Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!” Snape said, hitting the map with his wand.
As though an invisible hand were writing upon it, words appeared on the smooth surface of the map.
“Mooney presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business.”
Snape froze. Harry stared, dumbstruck, at the message. But the map didn't stop there. More writing was appearing beneath the first.
“Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Mooney and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git.”
It would have been very funny if the situation hadn't been so serious. And there was more …
“Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor.”
Harry closed his eyes in horror. When he'd opened them, the map had had its last word.
“Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball.”
Harry waited for the blow to fall.
“So …” said Snape softly. “We'll see about this …”
He strode across to his fire, seized a fistful of glittering powder from a jar on the fireplace, and threw it into the flames.
“Lupin!” Snape called into the fire. “I want a word!”
Utterly bewildered, Harry stared at the fire. A large shape had appeared in it, revolving very fast. Seconds later, Professor Lupin was clambering out of the fireplace, brushing ash off his shabby robes.
“You called, Severus?” said Lupin mildly.
“I certainly did,” said Snape, his face contorted with fury as he strode back to his desk. “I have just asked Potter to empty his pockets. He was carrying this.”
Snape pointed at the parchment, on which the words of Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs were still shining. An odd, closed expression appeared on Lupin's face.
“Well?” said Snape.
Lupin continued to stare at the map. Harry had the impression that Lupin was doing some very quick thinking.
“Well?” said Snape again. “This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such a thing?”
Lupin looked up and, by the merest half-glance in Harry's direction, warned him not to interrupt.
“Full of Dark Magic?” he repeated mildly. “Do you really think so, Severus? It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who reads it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry got it from a joke shop —”
“Indeed?” said Snape. His jaw had gone rigid with anger. “You think a joke shop could supply him with such a thing? You don't think it more likely that he got it directly from the manufacturers?”
Harry didn't understand what Snape was talking about. Nor, apparently, did Lupin.
“You mean, by Mr. Wormtail or one of these people?” he said. “Harry, do you know any of these men?”
“No,” said Harry quickly.
“You see, Severus?” said Lupin, turning back to Snape. “It looks like a Zonko product to me —”
Right on cue, Ron came bursting into the office. He was completely out of breath, and stopped just short of Snape's desk, clutching the stitch in his chest and trying to speak.
“I — gave — Harry — that — stuff,” he choked. “Bought — it…in Zonko's… ages — ago…”
“Well!” said Lupin, clapping his hands together and looking around cheerfully. “That seems to clear that up! Severus, I'll take this back, shall I?” He folded the map and tucked it inside his robes. “Harry, Ron, come with me, I need a word about my vampire essay — excuse us, Severus —”
Harry didn't dare look at Snape as they left his office. He. Ron, and Lupin walked all the way back into the entrance hall before speaking. Then Harry turned to Lupin.
“Professor, I —”
“I don't want to hear explanations,” said Lupin shortly. He glanced around the empty entrance hall and lowered his voice. “I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr. Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it's a map,” he said as Harry and Ron looked amazed. “I don't want to know how it fell into your possession. I am, however, astounded that you didn't hand it in. Particularly after what happened the last time a student left information about the castle lying around. And I can't let you have it back, Harry.”
Harry had expected that, and was too keen for explanations to protest.
“Why did Snape think I'd got it from the manufacturers?”
“Because…” Lupin hesitated, “because these mapmakers would have wanted to lure you out of school. They'd think it extremely entertaining.”
“Do you know them?” said Harry, impressed.
“We've met,” he said shortly. He was looking at Harry more seriously than ever before.
“Don't expect me to cover up for you again, Harry. I cannot make you take Sirius Black seriously. But I would have thought that what you have heard when the Dementors draw near you would have had more of an effect on you. Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry. A poor way to repay them — gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks.”
He walked away, leaving Harry feeling worse by far than he had at any point in Snape's office. Slowly, he and Ron mounted the marble staircase. As Harry passed the one-eyed witch, he remembered the Invisibility Cloak — it was still down there, but he didn't dare go and get it.
“It's my fault,” said Ron abruptly. “I persuaded you to go. Lupin's right, it was stupid, we shouldn't've done it —”
He broke off; they reached the corridor where the security trolls were pacing, and Hermione was walking toward them. One look at her face convinced Harry that she had heard what had happened. His heart plummeted — had she told Professor McGonagall?
“Come to have a good gloat?” said Ron savagely as she stopped in front of them. “Or have you just been to tell on us?”
“No,” said Hermione. She was holding a letter in her hands and her lip was trembling. “I just thought you ought to know…Hagrid lost his case. Buckbeak is going to be executed.”

　那天晚上，格林芬顿楼里谁也睡不着。他们知道那些城堡又被搜查了，他们屋子的人都在教室里等待着巴拉克被逮捕的消息，麦康娜教授在黎明时分回来了，告诉他们说他逃脱了。
　　第二天，他们到处都是加强了保安的指示牌。费立维克在门口用大画像教人怎么辨认西里斯。巴拉克；费驰在过道上跑上跑下，用木板把每个裂缝、洞口封闭。
　　卡得格先生被解雇了，他的画像被送到七楼。而那个胖大婶回来了，她对这工作已很熟悉，但仍然很紧张，并要求只有对她作出额外保护，她才会担任这工作。一队粗壮的保安被雇佣来专门看护着她。他们极有威吓力地在过道上踱着，咕哝着，抱怨着他们那个大楼的规模。
　　哈利忽然发现3楼那个独眼的女巫画像未被保护和监视，似乎弗来德以前的想法是对的，只有哈利、罗恩和荷米恩才知道这条秘密通道的。
　　“你说我们是否应该告诉别人？”哈利问罗恩。
　　“我们知道不会有人从‘甜鸭店’进来的，”罗恩毫不在意地说，“如果有人闯店，我们早就收到消息了。”
　　哈利很高兴罗恩有这种看法，如果那座独眼的女巫画像也成了监视对象，那他就再也不可能到霍格马得去了。
　　罗恩一时间成了名人。在他的人生中这还是第一次，人们对他的关注比对哈利还多。很明显，罗恩对此很欢乐。虽然还为那一晚的经历而颤抖，但他还是很乐意把那次的经历详详细细地向人讲述。
　　“……那时我睡着了，突然听见撕裂东西的声音，我想我是在做梦，我醒来，发现我一边的垂帘被扯了下来……我转了一下身……看见他正在我面前，像副骸骨，留着污秽的头发，手拿一把长刀，约十二英寸长，他看着我，我也看着他，然后我大叫起来，他就溜走了。”
　　“什么，尽管问？”罗恩补充说。这时，一群听过他的恐怖经历的二年级女生在一旁走过。“他为什么要跑呢？”
　　哈利也在想这个，为什么他会跑错床，他不能让罗恩闭嘴，或进而袭击哈利呢？
　　巴拉克已被证实在12年前因谋杀一个无辜者而逍遥法外，而这次，他只是面对着5个手无寸铁的男孩，而且当中4个已入睡。
　　“他猜想也许外面还有事等着他，当你一叫并把别人都吵醒时，”
　　哈利深思熟虑地说，“他必须把一屋子的人都杀光然后从那画像后的门逃跑，这样他就很有可能被老师撞见。”
　　尼维尔完全失宠了，麦康娜教授对他很生气，禁止他以后到霍格马得去，拘留了他，还禁止任何人给他进入大楼的密码。可怜的尼维尔每晚只能在外面等候别人让他进去，那些保安总是睨视他。
　　所有这些惩罚，都比不上他祖母给他的——一个最差劲的霍格瓦彻学生在早餐后收到的咆哮信。
　　学校的猫头鹰猛冲进大堂，带着平常的邮件。一只谷食鹰在他面前停了下来，这令他差点说不出话来，鹰嘴里叼着一个粉红色的信封，坐在对面的哈利和罗恩，他们一下子认出那是个咆哮信，罗恩前年就收到过妈妈寄来的一个。
　　“拆开它，尼维尔。”罗恩建议道。
　　尼维尔没等人说第二遍，捏了信封，像拿炸弹一样端在眼前。当他冲出大楼时，史林德林的那几张桌的人爆发出一阵笑声。他们听见他祖母的声音在门厅里消失。
　　她的声音，比平常的声音神奇地高100倍，骂着他如何为家族蒙羞。
　　哈利只顾着同情尼维尔竟没留意他也有信。海维指了他一下，引起他的注意。
　　“哦——谢谢你，海维……”
　　哈利拆开信封，这时海维正享用着尼维尔的玉米片。里面的留言是这样的：亲爱的哈利和罗恩：今晚6点左右陪我喝杯咖啡好吗？我来接你们，在门厅里等我，你们是不准单独出去的。
　　你欢乐的哈格力“也许是关于巴拉克的事！”罗思说。
　　晚上6点钟，哈利和罗思离开格林芬顿楼，通过保安队伍，直奔门厅而去。
　　哈格力已在那里等着他们了。
　　“好了，哈格力！”罗恩说，“我想你听说过周六晚的事了吧？”
　　“我全听过了。”他开前门，领着他们出去。
　　“哦！”罗恩有点失望。
　　他们在哈格力的小屋看见的第一件东西是毕克碧正放在哈格力的被褥堆上，它那不寻常的双翼紧贴身体，正在享用一大碟的死雪貂，避开他不开心的目光，哈利看见一个巨大的毛绒绒的长袍和一条橙黄色的领带挂在衣橱门上。
　　“他们是用来干什么的？”哈利问。
　　“用来对付和处理危险的怪兽的，这个星期五，他和我将到伦敦去，我们在‘骑士客士’里订了两个床位。”
　　哈利极为内疚。他完全忘了毕克碧的审讯是这么近。从罗恩脸上一点也不放松的神气看来，他也是这样。他们连承诺地帮助他准备毕克碧辩词也忘了，霹雳的回来使他们冲昏了头脑。
　　哈格力给他们倒了茶，并给他们一碟巴斯糕点，但他们想还是不要尝为好，他们已经领教过哈格力的厨艺了。
　　“我有事想与你们商量。”他坐在他俩中间看上去很严肃。
　　“是什么事呢！”哈利问。
　　“关于荷米恩的！”哈格力答道。
　　“她怎么了？”罗恩问。
　　“她自圣诞后就常来看我，她感到孤独。一开始你不跟他说话是为了霹雳的事，现在又因为她的那个猫——”
　　“它吃了我的斯卡伯斯！”罗恩插话道。
　　“就因为她的猫像其它猫一样，”哈格力固执地说，“她曾为此哭喊过几次，你也是知道的，那时候，不知道她是怎么过来的，食而无味，但她还帮我找了一些很好的材料……我想毕克碧这次的审讯情况将会有所改善。”
　　“哈格力，我们本来也应该帮忙的——但……对不起——”哈利难堪地说。
　　“我没有责备你们！”哈格力说着并不接受哈利的道歉，“上帝知道你们有多忙，我也看见你每天都在练习，但我必须告诉你们，我认为你们是应该对朋友而不是对扫帚和老鼠更为珍惜的。”
　　哈利和罗恩交换了一个不舒服，不自然的眼色。
　　“罗恩，当巴拉克几乎刺伤你时，她真的是难过的，她也是有良心的，但你们还是不理睬她。”
　　“如果她杀了她那只猫，我就跟她说话。”罗恩还是很气愤，“但她仍坚持己见，她是个疯子，她听不进一点不利于猫的话。”
　　“哦，人们有时也会为自己的宠物而变得糊涂，”哈格力明智地说着。在哈格力身后的毕克碧吐了几块雪貂肉在哈格力的枕头上。
　　他们在余下的时间内都在讨论格林芬顿队在快迪斯赛中较好的形势，9点钟，哈格力陪他们走回城堡。
　　当他们回到教室时，一大群人正围在通告栏前。
　　“霍格马得，下一个周末！”罗恩伸长脖子看见了新的通知。“你估计会怎样？”
　　他轻轻地补充说。
　　“费驰在霍格马得那一段并没做什么……”哈利说得更轻了。
　　“哈利！”一个声音在哈利右耳边响起。哈利抬起眼睛，发现荷米恩正坐在他们右后面的桌子旁，正在整理着那堆把她挡住的书墙。
　　“哈利，如果你再走进霍格马得，我会告诉麦康娜关于地图的事！”荷米恩说。
　　“你听见有人在说话吗？哈利！”罗恩吼着，并不看荷米恩。
　　“罗恩，在西里斯。巴拉克几乎杀了你这件事后，你还让他同你一块去？我将会告诉……”
　　“这么说，你是想让哈利被淘汰啦！”罗恩盛怒地说，“你这一年来搞的破坏还不够吗？”
　　荷术恩张开嘴正想申辩，一下嘶嘶声传来，克路殊克跳到她的膝上来。荷米恩惊恐地看着罗恩脸上的表情，抱起克路殊克，向女生宿舍跑去。
　　“那我们该怎么办？”罗恩好像不当荷米恩刚才打断他们的说话是回事，继续说，“来，你还没到过真克商店呢！”
　　哈利四周围扫视了一下，看荷米恩是否听得见。
　　“好吧，”他说，“我这次将会带上那件隐形斗篷。”
　　星期六的早上，哈利把隐形斗篷和掠夺者地图放进口袋里，然后和其他人一起下楼去吃早餐。荷米恩一直用猜疑的目光向他这张桌子看过来，他避开她的目光，而且有意让她看见自己像其他人一样回头走上那通向前门的楼梯。
　　“再见！”哈利跟罗恩说，“回头见！”
　　罗恩眨了眨眼，打个眼色，列着嘴在笑。
　　哈利匆匆赶到了楼上，在路上，他口袋里的掠夺者地图滑了出来。他在那个独眼女巫画像后蹲下，把她移开。一个小点正向他这边移动，哈利眯着眼睛看，小点旁有几个小字写着“尼维尔。”
　　哈利迅速掏出魔杖，喃喃念道，“得细店！”。说着把书包塞进画像里，在他爬进去时，尼维尔从墙角处瞧这边走来。
　　“哈利，我忘了你也不曾去过霍格马得。”
　　“你好，尼维尔。”哈利迅速从画像旁走开，并把地图拉了一下，塞回口袋里。
　　“你上来干什么？”哈利慌忙问。
　　“没什么，”尼维尔耸耸肩说，“玩不玩史纳皮的游戏？”
　　“不，现在不了。我准备去图书馆，完成露平教授的那篇鬼论文。”
　　“好，我同你一起去，正好我也没做。”尼维尔高兴地说。
　　“嗯，且慢，我忘了我昨晚已经完成了。”
　　“太好了！那你可以帮我！”他满脸焦急地说，“我不懂大蒜那一段——他们必须吃的吗，还是——”
　　尼维尔顿了顿，喘了口气，仔细看着哈利的背后。
　　史纳皮来了，尼维尔很快地踱到哈利背后。
　　“你们两个在干什么？”史纳皮在他们面前站正逐个打量起来，“好一个奇怪的相通地点。”
　　令哈利不安的是，史纳皮的目光从他们一边的门向那画像移动。
　　“我们不是约好在这里见面的……只是，刚好碰见了。”哈利解释说。
　　“就这样吗？”史纳皮说，“你有个习惯，就是专门到那些别人不在意的地方去，波特，你很少会无缘无故地……我还是建议你们回到你们所属的格林芬顿大楼去。”
　　哈利和尼维尔没说什么，转身就走。在拐弯处，哈利回头看了看，史纳皮正用手触摸那女巫画像，似乎在检查些什么。
　　在胖大婶那里，哈利告诉了尼维尔密码，然后假装把论文忘在图书馆里，回头跑去取，就这样甩下了尼维尔。一旦他见保安队伍远去了，哈利马上掏出地图，凑到鼻子上看。
　　三楼的走廊似乎很空荡，哈利浏览了一下地图发现那个标着“史纳皮”的小点已回到办公室。
　　他跑回画像旁，打开隆起的部分，爬进去，滑到石俗的底部，捡起书包，擦了擦地图，跑向目的地。
　　哈利在隐形斗篷的掩护下，来到霍格马得的阳光下，并从后戳了罗恩一下。
　　“是我。”他低声说。
　　“你怎么被耽搁了？”
　　“史纳皮在到处走动……”
　　他们走到大街上。
　　“你在哪？”罗恩在拐弯处喃喃地说，“你还在吗？这种感觉真不可思议……”
　　他们来到邮局，罗恩假装看猫头鹰给埃及的比尔带去的字条，好让哈利四围看看，猫头鹰叫着轻轻地落在他身旁，至少有三百只，从灰黑的大猫头鹰到只送地方信的小猫头鹰，应有尽有。有的甚至小到可以坐在罗思的手掌上。
　　他们参观卓克特可的时候，人很挤，哈利要很小心翼翼地闪避着，以免因撞到人而引起惊慌。里面有很多很多游戏，连弗来德和乔治梦想中最疯狂的也有，哈利轻声地在旁给罗思指点并从斗篷下递给他一些帆船币。他们离开卓克特可时，钱袋里理所当然地轻了，但口袋里的却多了玩具和糖果。
　　天气很好，风微微地吹着，没一个有窒息之感。他们路过“三扫帚”酒吧，爬过一个山丘，来到什拉克。刹克参观。这是在英国常见的民居。它坐落在比其它村在稍高的地方，但即使在白天，也会给人一种毛骨悚然的感觉。窗户用木板封起来，园子里长满野草。
　　“连霍格瓦彻的鬼魂也让它三分。”罗恩说着，他们正靠在栅栏上，抬头看看，“我问过无知的尼克，他说他听见好像有很多人住在那里。无人可以进去，弗来德和乔治查探，很明显所有门都锁着。”
　　哈利，因爬山而有点热，正想把斗篷脱下一会儿，这时，一个声音传来，有人从屋子的另一边爬上来。不一会儿，马尔夫出现了，后面紧跟着克来伯和高尔。马尔夫嘴里说着话：“……必须有一个猫头鹰与爸爸那边保持联络，告诉他我的手的事以及我有三个月时间不能用它……”
　　克来伯和高尔在吃吃地笑。
　　“我真希望能听见那个毛茸茸的傻瓜在为自己辩护……”
　　马尔夫突然发现了罗恩，他苍白的脸上泛起恶意的笑容。
　　“威斯里？你在那边干什么？”
　　马尔夫抬头看着罗恩后那座破烂不堪的屋子。
　　“假设你住在这里，你会喜欢吗？威斯里？想象一下你可以拥有你自己的寝室……我听说你一家人都睡在同一个房间里，这是真的吗？”
　　哈利抓住罗恩的袍子想阻止他向马尔夫攻击。
　　“把他交给我。”哈利在罗思耳边低语。
　　机会实在太好了。哈利悄悄爬到马尔夫身后挖了一大把泥巴。
　　“我们刚才正议论著你的朋友哈格力，”马尔夫继续说，“试想一下，他会在处理危险动物委员会上说些什么呢？你有没有想过当他们要宰杀他的哈普夫兽（鹰头马身有翅怪兽）时，他是否会大哭大闹呢？”
　　“啪啦！”一声响。
　　当泥巴砸到马尔夫头上时，他向前跌了一下，他金黄色的头发顿时糊满脏物。
　　“是什么——”
　　罗恩笑死了，连忙扶着栅栏，以免倒在地上。马尔夫、克来伯和高尔傻健地在那里，向四面看去。马尔夫正试图弄干净头发。
　　“是什么，是谁干的？”
　　“这里闹鬼了，是吗？”罗恩对着空气说。
　　克来伯和高尔惊恐地看着，他们强壮的肌肉也对鬼魂无可奈何，马尔夫发疯地在四周空旷的地方瞪着眼睛看。
　　哈利沿着小路走到一个充满恶臭的烂泥的潭边。
　　啪啦！又一声响。
　　克来伯和高尔这次中招了，高尔对着污迹火冒三丈，试图把它们从他那小眼睛中抹出来。
　　“从那边来的！”马尔夫说着盯着他左边不远处的哈利站的地方。
　　克来伯跌跌撞撞地走上前。他长长的手如蛇神一样。哈利在他身边躲开，捡起一根树枝，向克来伯戳了一下。哈利在旁边看着克来伯在空中乱舞而偷偷地笑。罗恩是克来伯看见的唯一的敌人，他瞪着罗恩。但哈利又戳了他的腿一下，克来怕绊倒了，他肥大的脚踢了哈利的斗篷一下，哈利感到被人一扯，斗篷从头上滑了下来。
　　这时候，马尔夫怒视着他。
　　“啊！”他大喊着，指着哈利的头，接着转身便跑，以迅雷不及掩耳的速度向山下飞奔，克来伯和高尔也紧跟着跑了。
　　哈利捡起斗篷，但它已经破了。
　　“哈利！”罗恩踉踉跄跄着来到哈利身边，伸过头来，失望盯着哈利手指着的地方，哈利显得很沮丧。
　　“你得马上跑，如果马尔夫告诉别人这件事，——你最好回到城堡去，快——！”
　　“回头见。”哈利也不多说，沿着路跑回去了，直奔霍格马得。
　　马尔夫会相信自己的眼睛吗？有人会相信马尔夫的话吗？没有人知道关于隐形斗篷的事，除了丹伯多。哈利有点担心——如果马尔夫说出来，丹伯多会很清楚地知道究竟是怎么一回事。
　　回到霍格马得，哈利扯下斗篷，拿在手里，开始飞奔回去。马尔夫会先到的，他找老师要多长时间呢？他喘着粗气，感到一下剧烈的疼痛。哈利并不放慢速度直到他来到石盖前，他必须把斗篷放回原处，如果马尔夫真的告诉了老师，那么斗篷无疑会成为牺牲品。他把它藏在阴暗的角落，开始尽力爬上去，手上的汗粘在石壁上直打滑。
　　他终于爬到画像的隆起处。他用魔杖敲了敲，伸出头，爬了出来。关上那个开口，正当哈利从画像背后跳出时，他听见一阵急促的脚步声在走近他。
　　是史纳皮，他快步走到哈利眼前。
　　“那么……”他说。
　　他脸上洋溢着难以抑制的喜悦。哈利却装着若无其事地看着他。自己汗流使背，双手粘满污泥，迅速把手放进口袋里，史纳皮根本没发觉。
　　“跟我来，波特！”史纳皮说。
　　哈利趁史纳皮不在意时使劲把手在袍内侧擦拭，他们下了楼梯，来到地牢处史纲皮的办公室。
　　哈利以前只来过一次。那一次，他也是犯了很严重的错误，史纳皮自上次以后就找到了一些更可怕的小东西泡在瓶子里，都站在他桌子后面的书架上闪着火光，更添恐怖气氛。
　　“坐。”史纳皮说。
　　哈利坐下了，而史纳皮却仍站着。
　　“马尔夫先生刚才告诉我一个很奇怪的故事。”
　　哈利并没说什么。
　　“他告诉我说你被什拉克。刹克追上，就在他碰上威斯里的时候。”
　　哈利仍不哼声。
　　“马尔夫说当一大堆泥砸向他时，他正站着和威斯里说话，泥打中他的背部和头部。你说怎么会这样呢？”
　　哈刮企图尽量显出惊讶之色。
　　“不知道，教授。”
　　史纳皮的目光深深地向哈利眼里看去，似乎要从中找出那头怪兽。哈利尽力不眨动眼睛。
　　“马尔夫接着看到一幕奇怪的景象，你能想象是什么吗，波特？”
　　“不知道。”现在他装着天真与好奇。
　　“是你的头，波特，它浮在空中。”
　　一阵长长的静默。
　　“或许他还是得回去一趟，仔细看看好些，”哈利说，“如果他真的看见像…
　　…“
　　“你的头在霍格马得干什么呢，波特？”史纳皮轻轻地问，“你的头是不允许在霍格马得出现的，你身体的任何一部分也不允许。”
　　“我知道，”他在默默努力地控制着，不使脸上有一点负罪及害怕的神色，“听起来马尔夫好像是幻觉。”
　　“这不是他的幻觉，”史纳皮厉声说着弯下腰，两只手撑在哈利的椅子扶手上，这样他的脸离哈利的只有一英尺远，“如果你的头在霍格马得，那么也就是说你的其它部分也在那里。”
　　“我一直在格林芬顿楼里，正如你说的。”
　　“有人能为你作证吗？”
　　哈利没说什么，史纳皮的薄薄的双唇做出一个可怕的微笑。
　　“但，魔法部的每个人都为了哈利不受西里斯。巴拉克的袭击而加强学院的安全。而哈利却只我行我素，让平常人担心他！著名的哈利想到哪里就到哪里，完全不顾后果。”
　　哈利静静地坐着，史纳皮正努力地诱导他讲出真相。他不用告诉他什么，因为他一点证据也没有。
　　“你是像你父亲那样的不平凡，波特，”史纳皮双目发光，突然冒出了这么一句，“他，他是非常傲慢的，在快迪斯场上的一点点天份就让他觉得自己是与众不同的。整天同他的朋友及仰慕者疯这疯那……你们的相似之处真让人不可思议。”
　　“我父亲从来不高傲，”他冲口而出，“我也不是。”
　　“你父亲也没遵守过多少规矩。”史纳皮继续说着，他脸上充满敌意，以此增加他的优势，“规则是为小人物而立的，并不是他这种快迪斯杯的赢家，他的头脑过热了——”
　　“住口！”
　　哈利突然站了起来，自昨晚被痛驾一顿后，他再也没那么愤怒过。他并不理会史纳皮僵直的脸和黑眼睛中闪烁着的危险的光。
　　“你刚才说什么？波特？”
　　“我叫你不要骂我爸！”哈利喊道，“我知道真相，他曾救过你！是丹伯多告诉我的，如果没有我爸，你也不会在这里站着！”
　　史纳皮的黄皮肤一下子变成发酵的牛奶那样。
　　“那么，校长有没有告诉你，你爸爸是在什么情况下救我的？”你轻声问，“他是否有考虑到个中的细节对于可爱的波特娇贵的耳朵来说实在太残忍了？”
　　哈利咬咬唇，他并不知道当时发生了什么事，也不想承认——但史纳皮似乎猜到了。
　　“我不想你带着关于你爸故事的错误观点离开这里，波特你想象过一些英雄人物的事迹吗？让我来纠正你吧——你忠心的伟大的爸爸和他的朋友们对我开了一个很大的玩笑，以至如果当时你爸爸没有在最后关头及时醒悟的话，结果便是我死亡。
　　他做的一切并不英勇。“
　　史纳皮那些参差不齐的黄牙齿在显露着。
　　“打开你的口袋，波特，”他突然叫道。
　　哈利并不动，耳朵轰的一下。
　　“把口袋翻过来，否则我们径直去见校长，波特！”
　　又冷又怕，哈利慢慢从口袋里掏出卓克特可游戏口袋和那张掠夺者地图。
　　史纳皮捡起那个单克特可口袋。
　　“是罗思给我的。”哈利边说边祈祷希望他在史纳皮碰见罗思前有机会给罗恩告密。
　　“他——上次从霍格马得回来时给我的。”
　　“是吗？你就这样天天带着它到处跑？咦，这是什么？”
　　史纳皮捡起地图。哈利全力克制自己的脸部表情。
　　史纳皮把它翻过来，盯着哈利。
　　“当然，你不需要这些旧刑罚，我怎么不——把它丢了？”
　　他的手向火堆伸出去。
　　“不！”哈利立即喊。
　　史纳皮抽了抽他的长鼻子说：“这是威斯里给你的又一宝贝吗？
　　或者，这是……一封信，用看不见的墨水写的一封信？又或者是一个指示你不须经过得蒙特直接可得到霍格马得的东西。“哈利惊愕地望着他，史纳皮双目发光。
　　“让我看看，让我看看，”史纳皮说着，拿出魔杖，在桌上铺开地图。
　　“显示你的秘密！”史纲皮说着，用魔杖点击羊皮地图。
　　什么也没有。哈利紧握自己的魔杖，不让其擅动。
　　“快速显录！”史纳皮在图上很恨地敲了一下。
　　仍没反应，哈利深深地吸了口气。
　　“史纳皮教授，这里的老师，要求你把你隐瞒的消息公布出来！”
　　史纳皮说着，用魔杖击地图。
　　字一个个地显示出来，仿佛有一枝无形的笔在上面写字。
　　“莫泥先生奉承讨好史纳皮教授，求他令自己那个大得异常的鼻子不要惹人注意。”
　　史纳皮僵在那里，哈利也吓呆了，但这还没有停下来，字一个一字地陆续出现：“伯宽先生会记录下他的惊讶：这样奇怪的一个人也会成为教授。”
　　哈利高兴地闭上眼，当他再次睁开眼时，他看见这最后几行：“温特尔叫史纳皮教授一定要洗头，洗干净那个粘着泥的‘球’。”
　　哈利等待着下面的。
　　“现在！”史纳皮轻声说，“我们来看看这个……”
　　他跨过火炉，抓起一把在瓶里闪闪发光的东西，扔向火焰。
　　“露平。”史纳皮说，“我要一个字！”
　　哈利完全迷惑地盯着火焰，一个巨大的形状出现了，扩散得很快，不一会儿，露平教授便从壁炉里走出来，弹着身上的火灰。
　　“你叫我吗？”露平教授温和地说。
　　“当然是我，”史纳皮说，当他步回桌旁时，努力地抑制睑上的怒气！“我刚才要求波特掏出口袋，他竟有这个——”
　　史纳皮指着羊皮地图，上面还留着关于莫泥的事。一个紧张的而又奇怪的表情出现在露平教授的脸上。
　　“怎么样？”史纳皮问。
　　露平继续盯着地图，哈利知道露平在很快地思索着。
　　“怎么了？”史纳皮又问，“这张羊皮图充满灰色魔法，我想那是属于你的专门知识领域的，你对波特拥有这个有什么想法？”
　　露平抬起头，很快地扫了哈利一眼，示意他不要干预他们的谈话。
　　“充满灰色魔法？”他重复道，“你真的这么认为？我看倒像是
Chapter 16 Professor Trelawney's Prediction
Harry's euphoria at finally winning the Quidditch Cup lasted at least a week. Even the weather seemed to be celebrating; as June approached, the days became cloudless and sultry, and all anybody felt like doing was strolling onto the grounds and flopping down on the grass with several pints of iced pumpkin juice, perhaps playing a casual game of Gobstones or watching the giant squid propel itself dreamily across the surface of the lake.
But they couldn't. Exams were nearly upon them, and instead of lazing around outside, the students were forced to remain inside the castle, trying to bully their brains into concentrating while enticing wafts of summer air drifted in through the windows. Even Fred and George Weasley had been spotted working; they were about to take their O.W.L.s (Ordinary Wizarding Levels). Percy was getting ready to take his N.E.W.T.s (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests), the highest qualification Hogwarts offered. As Percy hoped to enter the Ministry of Magic, he needed top grades. He was becoming increasingly edgy, and gave very severe punishments to anybody who disturbed the quiet of the common room in the evenings. In fact, the only person who seemed more anxious than Percy was Hermione.
Harry and Ron had given up asking her how she was managing to attend several classes at once, but they couldn't restrain themselves when they saw the exam schedule she had drawn up for herself. The first column read:
Monday
9 o'clock, Arithmancy
9 o'clock, Transfiguration
Lunch
1 o'clock, Charms
1 o'clock, Ancient Runes
“Hermione?” Ron said cautiously, because she was liable to explode when interrupted these days. “Er — are you sure you've copied down these times right?”
“What?” snapped Hermione, picking up the exam schedule and examining it. “Yes, of course I have.”
“Is there any point asking how you're going to sit for two exams at once?” said Harry.
“No,” said Hermione shortly. “Have either of you seen my copy of Numerology and Gramatica?”
“Oh, yeah, I borrowed it for a bit of bedtime reading,” said Ron, but very quietly. Hermione started shifting heaps of parchment. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had plenty of opportunity to speak to Hagrid.
“Beaky's gettin’ a bit depressed,” Hagrid told them, bending low on the pretense of checking that Harry's flobberworm was still alive. “Bin cooped up too long. But still…we'll know day after tomorrow — one way or the other —”
They had Potions that afternoon, which was an unqualified disaster. Try as Harry might, he couldn't get his Confusing Concoction to thicken, and Snape, standing watch with an air of vindictive pleasure, scribbled something that looked suspiciously like a zero onto his notes before moving away.
Then came Astronomy at midnight, up on the tallest tower; History of Magic on Wednesday morning, in which Harry scribbled everything Florean Fortescue had ever told him about medieval witch-hunts, while wishing he could have had one of Fortescue's choco-nut sundaes with him in the stifling classroom. Wednesday afternoon meant Herbology, in the greenhouses under a baking-hot sun; then back to the common room once more, with sunburnt necks, thinking longingly of this time next day, when it would all be over.
Their second to last exam, on Thursday morning, was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Lupin had compiled the most unusual exam any of them had ever taken; a sort of obstacle course outside in the sun, where they had to wade across a deep paddling pool containing a Grindylow, cross a series of potholes full of Red Caps, squish their way across a patch of marsh while ignoring misleading directions from a Hinkypunk, then climb into an old trunk and battle with a new Boggart.
“Excellent, Harry,” Lupin muttered as Harry climbed out of the trunk, grinning. “Full marks.”
Flushed with his success, Harry hung around to watch Ron and Hermione. Ron did very well until he reached the Hinkypunk, which successfully confused him into sinking waist-high into the quagmire. Hermione did everything perfectly until she reached the trunk with the Boggart in it. After about a minute inside it, she burst out again, screaming.
“Hermione!” said Lupin, startled. “What's the matter?”
“P-P-Professor McGonagall!” Hermione gasped, pointing into the trunk. “Sh-she said I'd failed everything!”
It took a little while to calm Hermione down. When at last she had regained a grip on herself, she, Harry, and Ron went back to the castle. Ron was still slightly inclined to laugh at Hermione's Boggart, but an argument was averted by the sight that met them on the top of the steps.
Cornelius Fudge, sweating slightly in his pinstriped cloak, was standing there staring out at the grounds. He started at the sight of Harry.
“Hello there, Harry!” he said. “Just had an exam, I expect? Nearly finished?”
“Yes,” said Harry. Hermione and Ron, not being on speaking terms with the Minister of Magic, hovered awkwardly in the background.
“Lovely day,” said Fudge, casting an eye over the lake.
“Pity…pity…”
He sighed deeply and looked down at Harry.
“I'm here on an unpleasant mission, Harry. The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures required a witness to the execution of a mad Hippogriff. As I needed to visit Hogwarts to check on the Black situation, I was asked to step in.”
“Does that mean the appeal's already happened?” Ron interrupted, stepping forward.
“No, no, it's scheduled for this afternoon,” said Fudge, looking curiously at Ron.
“Then you might not have to witness an execution at all!” said Ron stoutly. “The Hippogriff might get off!”
Before Fudge could answer, two wizards came through the castle doors behind him. One was so ancient he appeared to be withering before their very eyes; the other was tall and strapping, with a thin back mustache. Harry gathered that they were representatives of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, because the very old wizard squinted toward Hagrid's cabin and said in a feeble voice, “Dear, dear, I'm getting too old for this….Two o'clock, isn't it, Fudge?”
The black-mustached man was fingering something in his belt; Harry looked and saw that he was running one broad thumb along the blade of a shining axe. Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione nudged him hard in the ribs and jerked her head toward the entrance hall.
“Why'd you stop me?” said Ron angrily as they entered the Great Hall for lunch. “Did you see them? They've even got the axe ready! This isn't justice!”
“Ron, your dad works for the Ministry, you can't go saying things like that to his boss!” said Hermione, but she too looked very upset. “As long as Hagrid keeps his head this time, and argues his case properly, they can't possibly execute Buckbeak.…”
But Harry could tell Hermione didn't really believe what she was saying. All around them, people were talking excitedly as they ate their lunch, happily anticipating the end of the exams that afternoon, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione, lost in worry about Hagrid and Buckbeak, didn't join in.
Harry's and Ron's last exam was Divination; Hermione's, Muggle Studies. They walked up the marble staircase together; Hermione left them on the first floor and Harry and Ron proceeded all the way up to the seventh, where many of their class were sitting on the spiral staircase to Professor Trelawney's classroom, trying to cram in a bit of last-minute studying.
“She's seeing us all separately,” Neville informed them as they went to sit down next to him. He had his copy of Unfogging the Future open on his lap at the pages devoted to crystal gazing. “Have either of you ever seen anything in a crystal ball?” he asked them unhappily.
“Nope,” said Ron in an offhand voice. He kept checking his watch; Harry. knew that he was counting down the time until Buckbeak's appeal started.
The line of people outside the classroom shortened very slowly. As each person climbed back down the silver ladder, the rest of the class hissed, “What did she ask? Was it okay?”
But they all refused to say.
“She says the crystal ball's told her that if I tell you, I'll have a horrible accident!” squeaked Neville as he clambered back down the ladder toward Harry and Ron, who had now reached the landing.
“That's convenient,” snorted Ron. “You know, I'm starting to think Hermione was right about her” — he jabbed his thumb toward the trapdoor overhead — “she's a right old fraud.”
“Yeah,” said Harry, looking at his own watch. It was now two o'clock. “Wish she'd hurry up…”
Parvati came back down the ladder glowing with pride.
“She says I've got all the makings of a true Seer,” she informed Harry and Ron. “I saw loads of stuff…Well, good luck!”
She hurried off down the spiral staircase toward Lavender.
“Ronald Weasley,” said the familiar, misty voice from over their heads. Ron grimaced at Harry and climbed the silver ladder out of sight. Harry was now the only person left to be tested. He settled himself on the floor with his back against the wall, listening to a fly buzzing in the sunny window, his mind across the grounds with Hagrid.
Finally, after about twenty minutes, Ron's large feet reappeared on the ladder.
“How'd it go?” Harry asked him, standing up.
“Rubbish,” said Ron. “Couldn't see a thing, so I made some stuff up. Don't think she was convinced, though…”
“Meet you in the common room,” Harry muttered as Professor Trelawney's voice called, “Harry Potter!”
The tower room was hotter than ever before; the curtains were closed, the fire was alight, and the usual sickly scent made Harry cough as he stumbled through the clutter of chairs and table to where Professor Trelawney sat waiting for him before a large crystal ball.
“Good day, my dear,” she said softly. “If you would kindly gaze into the Orb…Take your time, now…then tell me what you see within it….”
Harry bent over the crystal ball and stared, stared as hard as he could, willing it to show him something other than swirling white fog, but nothing happened.
“Well?” Professor Trelawney prompted delicately. “What do you see?”
The heat was overpowering and his nostrils were stinging with the perfumed smoke wafting from the fire beside them. He thought of what Ron had just said, and decided to pretend.
“Er —” said Harry, “a dark shape…um…”
“What does it resemble?” whispered Professor Trelawney. “Think, now…”
Harry cast his mind around and it landed on Buckbeak.
“A Hippogriff,” he said firmly.
“Indeed!” whispered Professor Trelawney, scribbling keenly on the parchment perched upon her knees. “My boy, you may well be seeing the outcome of poor Hagrid's trouble with the Ministry of Magic! Look closer…Does the Hippogriff appear to…have its head?”
“Yes,” said Harry firmly.
“Are you sure?” Professor Trelawney urged him. “Are you quite sure, dear? You don't see it writhing on the ground, perhaps, and a shadowy figure raising an axe behind it?”
“No!” said Harry, starting to feel slightly sick.
“No blood? No weeping Hagrid?”
“No!” said Harry again, wanting more than ever to leave the room and the heat. “It looks fine, it's — flying away…”
Professor Trelawney sighed.
“Well, dear, I think we'll leave it there…A little disappointing…but I'm sure you did your best.”
Relieved, Harry got up, picked up his bag and turned to go, but then a loud, harsh voice spoke behind him.
“IT WILL HAPPEN TONIGHT.”
Harry wheeled around. Professor Trelawney had gone rigid in her armchair; her eyes were unfocused and her mouth sagging.
“S — sorry?” said Harry.
But Professor Trelawney didn't seem to hear him. Her eyes started to roll. Harry sat there in a panic. She looked as though she was about to have some sort of seizure. He hesitated, thinking of running to the hospital wing — and then Professor Trelawney spoke again, in the same harsh voice, quite unlike her own:
“THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE MIDNIGHT…THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT'S AID, GREATER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS. TONIGHT…BEFORE MIDNIGHT…THE SERVANT…WILL SET OUT…TO REJOIN…HIS MASTER…”
Professor Trelawney's head fell forward onto her chest. She made a grunting sort of noise. Harry sat there, staring at her. Then, quite suddenly, Professor Trelawney's head snapped up again.
“I'm so sorry, dear boy,” she said dreamily, “the heat of the day, you know…I drifted off for a moment….”
Harry sat there, staring at her.
“Is there anything wrong, my dear?”
“You — you just told me that the — the Dark Lord's going to rise again…that his servant's going to go back to him.”
Professor Trelawney looked thoroughly startled.
“The Dark Lord? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? My dear boy, that's hardly something to joke about…Rise again, indeed —”
“But you just said it! You said the Dark Lord —”
“I think you must have dozed off too, dear!” said Professor Trelawney. “I would certainly not presume to predict anything quite as far-fetched as that!”
Harry climbed back down the ladder and the spiral staircase, wondering…had he just heard Professor Trelawney make a real prediction? Or had that been her idea of an impressive end to the test?
Five minutes later he was dashing past the security trolls outside the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, Professor Trelawney's words still resounding in his head. People were striding past him in the opposite direction, laughing and joking, heading for the grounds and a bit of long-awaited freedom; by the time he had reached the portrait hole and entered the common room, it was almost deserted. Over in the corner, however, sat Ron and Hermione.
“Professor Trelawney,” Harry panted, “just told me —”
But he stopped abruptly at the sight of their faces.
“Buckbeak lost,” said Ron weakly. “Hagrid's just sent this.”
Hagrid's note was dry this time, no tears had splattered it, yet his hand seemed to have shaken so much as he wrote that it was hardly legible.
Lost appeal. They're going to execute at sunset. Nothing you can do. Don't come down. I don't want you to see it. 
Hagrid 
“We've got to go,” said Harry at once. “He can't just sit there on his own, waiting for the executioner!”
“Sunset, though,” said Ron, who was staring out the window ill a glazed sort of way. “We'd never be allowed …'specially you, Harry…”
Harry sank his head into his hands, thinking.
“If we only had the Invisibility Cloak…”
“Where is it?” said Hermione.
Harry told her about leaving it in the passageway under the one-eyed witch.
“… if Snape sees me anywhere near there again, I'm in serious trouble,” he finished.
“That's true,” said Hermione, getting to her feet. “If he sees you…How do you open the witch's hump again?”
“You — you tap it and say, ‘Dissendium,'” said Harry. “But —”
Hermione didn't wait for the rest of his sentence; she strode across the room, pushed open the Fat Lady's portrait and vanished from sight.
“She hasn't gone to get it?” Ron said, staring after her.
She had. Hermione returned a quarter of an hour later with the silvery cloak folded carefully under her robes.
“Hermione, I don't know what's gotten, into you lately!” said Ron, astounded. “First you hit Malfoy, then you walk out on Professor Trelawney —”
Hermione looked rather flattered.
They went down to dinner with everybody else, but did not return to Gryffindor Tower afterward. Harry had the cloak hidden down the front of his robes; he had to keep his arms folded to hide the lump. They skulked in an empty chamber off the entrance hall, listening, until they were sure it was deserted. They heard a last pair of people hurrying across the hall and a door slamming. Hermione poked her head around the door.
“Okay,” she whispered, “no one there — cloak on —”
Walking very close together so that nobody would see them, they crossed the hall on tiptoe beneath the cloak, then walked down the stone front steps into the grounds. The sun was already sinking behind the Forbidden Forest, gilding the top branches of the trees.
They reached Hagrid's cabin and knocked. He was a minute in answering, and when he did, he looked all around for his visitor, pale-faced and trembling.
“It's us,” Harry hissed. “We're wearing the Invisibility Cloak. Let us in and we can take it off.”
“Yeh shouldn've come!” Hagrid whispered, but he stood back, and they stepped inside. Hagrid shut the door quickly and Harry pulled off the cloak.
Hagrid was not crying, nor did he throw himself upon their necks. He looked like a man who did not know where he was or what to do. This helplessness was worse to watch than tears.
“Wan’ some tea?” he said. His great hands were shaking as he reached for the kettle.
“Where's Buckbeak, Hagrid?” said Hermione hesitantly.
“I — I took him outside,” said Hagrid, spilling milk all over the table as he filled up the jug. “He's tethered in me pumpkin patch. Thought he oughta see the trees an’ — an’ smell fresh air — before —”
Hagrid's hand trembled so violently that the milk jug slipped from his grasp and shattered all over the floor.
“I'll do it, Hagrid,” said Hermione quickly, hurrying over and starting to clean up the mess.
“There's another one in the cupboard,” Hagrid said, sitting down and wiping his forehead on his sleeve. Harry glanced at Ron, who looked back hopelessly.
“Isn't there anything anyone can do, Hagrid?” Harry asked fiercely, sitting down next to him. “Dumbledore —”
“He's tried,” said Hagrid. “He's got no power ter overrule the Committee. He told ‘em Buckbeak's all right, but they're scared…Yeh know what Lucius Malfoy's like…threatened ‘em, I expect…an’ the executioner, Macnair, he's an old pal o’ Malfoy's…but it'll be quick an’ clean…an’ I'll be beside him….”
Hagrid swallowed. His eyes were darting all over the cabin as though looking for some shred of hope or comfort.
“Dumbledore's gonna come down while it — while it happens. Wrote me this mornin'. Said he wants ter — ter be with me. Great man, Dumbledore.…”
Hermione, who had been rummaging in Hagrid's cupboard for another milk jug, let out a small, quickly stifled sob. She straightened up with the new jug in her hands, fighting back tears.
“We'll stay with you too, Hagrid,” she began, but Hagrid shook his shaggy head.
“Yeh're ter go back up ter the castle. I told yeh, I don’ wan’ yeh watchin'. An’ yeh shouldn’ be down here anyway…If Fudge an’ Dumbledore catch yeh out without permission, Harry, yeh'll be in big trouble.”
Silent tears were now streaming down Hermione's face, but she hid them from Hagrid, bustling around making tea. Then, as she picked up the milk bottle to pour some into the jug, she let out a shriek.
“Ron, I don't believe it — it's Scabbers!”
Ron gaped at her.
“What are you talking about?”
Hermione carried the milk jug over to the table and turned it upside down. With a frantic squeak, and much scrambling to get back inside, Scabbers the rat came sliding out onto the table.
“Scabbers!” said Ron blankly. “Scabbers, what are you doing here?”
He grabbed the struggling rat and held him up to the light. Scabbers looked dreadful. He was thinner than ever, large tufts of hair had fallen out leaving wide bald patches, and he writhed in Ron's hands as though desperate to free himself
“It's okay, Scabbers!” said Ron. “No cats! There's nothing here to hurt you!”
Hagrid suddenly stood up, his eyes fixed on the window. His normally ruddy face had gone the color of parchment.
“They're comin'.…”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione whipped around. A group of men was walking down the distant castle steps. In front was Albus Dumbledore, his silver beard gleaming in the dying sun. Next to him trotted Cornelius Fudge. Behind them came the feeble old Committee member and the executioner, Macnair.
“Yeh gotta go,” said Hagrid. Every inch of him was trembling. “They mustn’ find yeh here…Go now…”
Ron stuffed Scabbers into his pocket and Hermione picked up the cloak. “I'll let yeh out the back way,” said Hagrid.
They followed him to the door into his back garden. Harry felt strangely unreal, and even more so when he saw Buckbeak a few yards away, tethered to a tree behind Hagrid's pumpkin patch. Buckbeak seemed to know something was happening. He turned his sharp head from side to side and pawed the ground nervously.
“It's okay, Beaky,” said Hagrid softly. “It's okay…” He turned to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “Go on,” he said. “Get goin'.”
But they didn't move.
“Hagrid, we can't —”
“We'll tell them what really happened —”
“They can't kill him —”
“Go!” said Hagrid fiercely. “It's bad enough without you lot in trouble an’ all!”
They had no choice. As Hermione threw the cloak over Harry and Ron, they heard voices at the front of the cabin. Hagrid looked at the place where they had just vanished from sight.
“Go quick,” he said hoarsely. “Don’ listen…”
And he strode back into his cabin as someone knocked at the front door.
Slowly, in a kind of horrified trance, Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off silently around Hagrid's house. As they reached the other side, the front door closed with a sharp snap.
“Please, let's hurry,” Hermione whispered. “I can't stand it, I can't bear it….”
They started up the sloping lawn toward the castle. The sun was sinking fast now; the sky had turned to a clear, purple-tinged gray, but to the west there was a ruby-red glow.
Ron stopped dead.
“Oh, please, Ron,” Hermione began.
“It's Scabbers — he won't — stay put —”
Ron was bent over, trying to keep Scabbers in his pocket, but the rat was going berserk; squeaking madly, twisting and flailing, trying to sink his teeth into Ron's hand.
“Scabbers, it's me, you idiot, it's Ron,” Ron hissed.
They heard a door open behind them and men's voices.
“Oh, Ron, please let's move, they're going to do it!” Hermione breathed.
“Okay — Scabbers, stay put —”
They walked forward; Harry, like Hermione, was trying not to listen to the rumble of voices behind them. Ron stopped again.
“I can't hold him — Scabbers, shut up, everyone'll hear us —”
The rat was squealing wildly, but not loudly enough to cover up the sounds drifting from Hagrid's garden. There was a jumble of indistinct male voices, a silence, and then, without warning, the unmistakable swish and thud of an axe.
Hermione swayed on the spot.
“They did it!” she whispered to Harry. “I'd — don't believe it — they did it!”
　在快迪斯杯中的最终胜利使哈利高兴了一周的时间。甚至天气好像也在庆祝这场胜利。七月！闲近了，天气变得无云而且酷热。每个人都希望带着几瓶托冰镇的南瓜汁，或徜徉在操场上或是懒散的坐在草地上。
　　但是他们不能。考试临近了，学生们被迫呆在城堡内，强迫自己的大脑聚精会神于自己的学业。虽然夏天的空气游荡过窗户也不能引诱他们懒散的到外面去玩。
　　甚至弗来德和乔治。威斯里也在工作，他们将进行O.W.L（平常男巫水平测试）。
　　伯希正准备他的N.E.W.T.S（讨厌的令人筋疲力倦的男巫考试）他想进入魔法部，他需要好的分数。他变得很急躁，并且给了那些在晚上扰乱公共休息室的人最严厉的处罚。实际上，比伯希更着急的人是荷米思。
　　哈利和罗恩已经放弃了问她一下子学习那么多课程的原因。但看了她所制订的考试时间表，他们又忍不住了。第一卷写着星期一九点，数字算命课九点，变形术午餐一点，迷惑术一点，古代麾法“荷米思？”由于近来如果有人打扰她，她就会发作，所以罗恩小心的问，“噢，你确信你把这些时间抄写的完全正确吗？”
　　“什么？”荷米恩拿过时间表检查了一下，不经意的说，“是的，当然确信。”
　　“可是你怎么能够同时参加两个考试呢？”哈利说道。
　　“不，”荷米恩简短的说，“你们有谁看见我那本《数字逻辑和语法学》？
　　“噢，是的，我借了它作为睡觉前看的书！”罗恩十分平静的说。
　　荷米恩开始在桌子上逐一收拾她羊皮纸手搞，寻找着那本书。就在此时，窗户突然响了一下，接着海维飞了进来。一张纸条被紧紧的贴在她的鸟喙上。
　　“这来自于海维，”哈利打开纸条看后说，“毕克碧的上诉——这是第六次。”
　　“是我们考试完的那一天，”仍旧在找她的数字算命学节的荷米恩说。
　　“他们将到这儿做这件事了。”还在读那封信的哈利说，“一些来自魔法部的人和一个审判员。”
　　荷米恩害怕的看着他。
　　“他们将带着审判者去上诉！但这听起来好像已经确定了似的！”
　　“是的，是这样。”哈利慢慢的说。
　　“她们不能这样！”罗恩咆哮着说，“我已经花了几个月的时间去为它读材料，他们不能忽略它！”
　　但哈利有一个可怕的念头，就是反对危险生物协会的人们已经被马尔夫先生弄得下定了决心。人们好像近来又逐渐恢复了以往的神气，轻蔑地对哈利评价。马尔夫肯定是想杀掉毕克碧，并彻底的庆幸自己带来了这个结果。在这些情况下，模仿荷米恩打击马尔夫的脸是哈利所能做的全部。而最糟糕的是他没有时间和机会去看哈格力，因为新的严厉的保护性措施还没有改变。并且哈利在青眼有加的看守监视下，他还没有重新取得他的隐形斗篷。
　　考试周来到后，首先要考变形学，它太难了！包括像把茶壶变为乌龟这样的难题。荷米恩激怒了别人，因为她把她的茶壶变得像海龟一样。
　　“我还有一个壶嘴没有变成尾巴，真令人害怕……”
　　“哪儿有乌龟用尾巴呼吸。”
　　“它还有一个柳条格状的壳，你认为我能把它变成吗？”
　　接着，在一个匆忙的午饭之后，她直接上楼参加测试考试。她是正确的，费立维克教授真的测试兴奋魔物。哈利为罗恩而担心，在独自操作测试时他被带到一个安静的屋子里。晚饭后学生赶紧赶回公共休息室去准备。
　　哈格力主持第二天早上的魔界动物考试，他的心提到了嗓子眼，他已经提供了一大试管新鲜的弗来毕蚕。这是对所有参加考试的人最简单的考试，哈利、罗思和荷米恩终于有机会和哈格力交谈了。
　　“马尔夫的介入会使人很伤神，”哈格力告诉他们，当他弯下腰来假装察看哈利的弗来毕蚕是否还活着的时候。“我已应付了很大一段时间了。但仍然……我们将在后天知道——一种结果或是另一种。”
　　接着，星相术考试于深夜在最高的塔上举行。马格历史的考试在星期三的早上举行。这场考试中哈利描述了费莱里。弗特克告诉他的～切。
　　他们的倒数第二个考试，安排在星期四的早晨，是黑巫术防御课。露平教授已经暗示将重点考查平时课堂上强调的内容。本次考试方式是一次小历险，考试最后的终点设在一个大车箱。
　　“好极了，哈利！”当哈利微笑着从车箱内爬出来时露平兴奋的说道，“满分。”
　　成功以后，哈利从高处观看罗恩和荷米恩。罗恩做的也相当好，但他遇到了一点麻烦。荷米恩的麻烦出现在临近终点的地方，大约一分钟以后她叫着从里面冲出来。
　　“荷米恩？”露平迷惑的说，“有什么问题吗？”
　　“教……教……教，麦康娜教授！”荷米恩喘息着指着车箱说，“她……她说我一切都失败了！”
　　过了一会儿，荷米恩才平息了下来。到最后她才恢复了神智，同哈利和罗恩返回城堡。罗恩还有点想笑话荷米恩，但在最高台阶上他发现有人似乎在等他们。
　　科恩尔。里尔斯，微微出汗的身上有一点掩饰物，他站在那儿盯着地上。当看见哈利后，他开始盯着哈利一直瞧。
　　“喂，过来，哈利！”他说，“正在进行一项考试吗？差不多完成了吗？”
　　“是的。”哈利说道。
　　“真是个好天气。”科恩尔向湖中看了一眼后说，“遗憾……遗憾……”
　　他沉重的叹息了一声后看着哈利。
　　“我在这儿有一个不愉快的差使。哈利，反对危险生物委员会需要一个目击证人去审判疯狂的毕克碧。而我需要去访问霍格瓦彻以便检查证人情况，我被要求介入这件事。”
　　“那意味着上诉已经开始了吗？”罗恩上前几步打断他。
　　“不，不。那是今天下午的安排。”科恩尔看着罗恩奇怪的说。
　　“那么，你根本不必参加这个审判会！”罗恩勇敢的说，“毕克碧也许可能逃脱！”
　　在科恩尔回答以前，两个男巫从他后面的城堡门中走出来。其中一个十分老，他们看他似乎是萎缩了；另一个高大健壮，有一抹黑胡子。哈利知道他们代表反对危险动物委员会，因为那个很老的巫师看了哈格力的小屋并且用一种很微弱的声音说，“亲爱的，亲爱的，我干这件事已经很久了……是吗，科恩尔？”
　　那黑胡子男人正在用手指摸着什么东西，哈利看了一下发现他是在用拇指试一把斧子的刀刃。罗恩开口想说什么，但荷米恩碰了碰他的肋骨制止了他，并点头暗示去大厅门口。
　　“你为什么阻止我？”当他们进入大厅吃午饭时，罗恩愤怒的说，“他们甚至准备好斧子！你看到了吗？这是不公平的审判！”
　　“罗恩，你父亲在这个部工作。你不能对他的上司那样说话。”荷米恩好像有点心神不宁的说，“只要哈格力这次保待清醒的头脑并努力的辩论，他们就不可能判决毕克碧……”
　　但是哈利不能告诉荷米恩他不相信她所说的话。他们周围的人在吃饭的时候激动的交谈着。他们庆祝最后一科考试在那天下午考完。但哈利、罗恩和荷米恩因为关心，挂念着哈格力和毕克碧，所以有点心神不宁。他们一起走向大理石楼梯。荷米恩离开他们在一楼走了，而哈利和罗恩继续走到七层，到达许多学生业已就坐的特雷络尼教授的教室，他们急忙进入教室，这时正在进行最后一次点名。
　　“她对我们不是一视同仁！”尼维尔对他们报怨着。在他的膝盖上有他的《透视未来》的笔记，是关于水晶球方面。“你们曾经从水晶球中看到过什么吗？”他不高兴的问道。
　　“没有。”罗恩用一种不假思索的腔调回答说。他不停的看表，哈利知道他是在记算毕克碧的起诉开始的时间。
　　等在教室外面的队伍缓慢的变短。每个人从银色梯子爬下来时，班上剩下的人都追问：“她问了些什么？好回答吗？”
　　但是他们拒绝回答。
　　“她说水晶球会告诉她。如果我告诉了你，我将会遇到可怕的事故！‘例才过去后又爬下来的尼维尔恐惧的说。
　　“非常方便，”罗恩愤愤地说，“你知道，我开始认为荷米恩对她的感觉是对的。”他激动的说，“她是一个老骗子。”
　　“是的，”哈利看着他的表说。现在两点了，“希望她能快点……”
　　帕维提骄傲的从梯子上面走下来。
　　“她说我得到全部真实的预测，”她告诉哈利和罗恩，“我看到了大量的材料……好了，祝你好运！”
　　她急急忙忙的冲下楼梯到拉温德那儿去了。
　　“罗恩。威斯里！”那个熟悉的声音在头顶响起。罗思看了哈利一眼，随后从银色梯子消失了。现在哈利是最后一个等待测试的人。
　　他手背靠着墙坐在地板上，听着苍蝇在摩边嗡嗡的叫着，他开始想到哈格力。
　　最后，大约二十分钟后，罗恩的大眼又出现在梯子上。
　　“怎么样？”哈利站起来问道。
　　“一团糟，”罗恩说，“看不到其它任何东西，于是我添了些材料进去。”
　　“公共休息室再见面。”哈利小声的说，因为她听到了特雷络尼教授的声音，“哈利•波特！”
　　培房间好像更热了，窗帘是拉上的，火仍然生着。而平常的令人恶心的香气弄得哈利咳嗽，他跌跌撞撞的走向站在散乱的桌椅旁的特雷络尼教授，在她面前有一些水晶球。
　　“白天好，亲爱的，”她温柔的说，“请聚精会神的看着这个球……
　　别着急，现在告诉我你看到了什么在里面……“哈利弯腰并盯着水晶球，虽然盯着看但除了些白色的雾气以外什么也看不见。
　　“好了吗？”特雷络尼教授温柔的催促道，“你看到了什么？”
　　他的鼻子受到了烟雾刺激，他想起了罗恩刚才说的话，决定假装。
　　“噢，”哈利说，“一个黑色的形如……咦……”
　　“它像什么？”特雷络尼教授低声说道，“想一想，现在——”
　　哈利尽力的想，忽然想到了毕克碧。
　　“一个河马鹿。”他坚定的说。
　　“事实如此！”特雷络尼教授低语道，“好孩子，也许你可以看到，可怜的哈格力的困难……河马鹿出现了吗……它有头吗？”
　　“是的。”哈利坚定的说。
　　“你确信吗？”特雷络尼教授催促他说，“你十分确信吗？亲爱的，你看到它在地上受苦吗？也许，一个手举起了斧子的影子在他的后面。”
　　“不！”哈利开始有一点厌恶的说。
　　“没有血？”
　　“没有！”哈利又一次说，他更想离开这屋子了，“它看起来很好，它飞走了。”
　　特雷络尼教授叹了口气。
　　“好了，亲爱的，我想我们不必管它了……有一点失望……但我想你已经尽了全力了。”
　　哈利放松的站起来拿起他的包准备离开，突然一个巨大的尖锐的声音在身后响起来。
　　“那件事将会在今天晚上发生。”
　　哈利转过身来，特雷络尼身体僵直的坐在椅子上，她的眼睛无神，而她的嘴在呼呼叨叨的说着什么。
　　“对，对不起？”哈利说。
　　但是特雷络尼教授好像没有听到他说的话。他的眼睛开始转动。哈利手忙脚乱地站在那里。她看起来好像突然中风的样子。他犹豫的想去找医生来，而这时特雷络尼教授又说话了，用同样尖刻的语调，好像不是她自己似的：“邪恶的黑暗巫师无援孤独的躺着，他的仆人被捆绑了12年。
　　今天晚上，在午夜之前，那个仆人将会逃脱，并重新和他的主人在一起。邪恶的黑暗巫师将在他仆人的帮助下重新强大起来，比以前更伟大更可怕。今天晚上…
　　…午夜之前……仆人将会逃脱，将会去找主人……“特雷络尼的头垂在胸前。她的嘴里发出呜哩呜噜的声音。突然她的头又一次抬了起来。
　　“十分对不起，亲爱的孩子，”她模模糊糊的说，“这么热的天，你知道我被热晕了一会儿……”
　　哈利站在那仍盯着她看。
　　“这有什么地方不对吗？亲爱的？”
　　“你——你刚才告诉我——邪恶的黑暗巫师将要重新恢复健康……而他的仆人将会去帮助他……”
　　特雷络尼看起来像被完全迷惑了。
　　“邪恶的黑暗巫师？没听过的名字？亲爱的孩子，那是不能开玩笑的……重新恢复，事实上……”
　　“但是你刚才说的！你说邪恶的黑暗巫师——”
　　“我想你肯定也头晕目眩了，亲爱的！”特雷络尼教授说，“我从来没有想过要预测那么远的事情！”
　　哈利从梯子上爬下来，想着，“我真的听到特雷络尼教授的预言了吗？或者只是一个令人印象深刻的结束考试的方式？”
　　五分钟后他就在走在通往格林芬顿塔的小路上，特雷络尼教授的话仍在他耳边响起。人们对面与他擦肩而过，笑着开玩笑，去操场上找回盼望已久的自由，在他到达画像洞口并走进公共休息室的时候，那里没有一个人了。但罗恩和行米恩坐在一个角落里。
　　“特雷络尼教授。”哈利慌张的说，“刚刚你告诉我——”
　　但他看到他的脸色很怪就急忙停下来。
　　“毕克碧丢了，”罗恩虚弱的说，“哈格力给了我们这些东西。”
　　这次哈格力的纸条是干的，没有泪痕弄湿它，但好像由于他写字时手发抖，字迹不清。
　　上诉失败了。他们将在日落时处决。不要下来，你什么忙都帮不上。我不想让你看到种景象。
　　哈格力“我们正想要去，”哈利马上说，“他不能坐在那儿袖手旁观等待判决的到来！”
　　“日落，虽然，”罗恩用一种奇特的方法望着窗外说，“我们不允许……除了你，哈利……”
　　哈利用手抱住他的头开始想。
　　“如果我们有看不到的隐身斗篷……”
　　“它在什么地方？”荷米恩说。
　　哈利告诉她，它放在通道上独眼女巫的下面。
　　“……如果史纳皮再一次看到我在那儿，我将会很麻烦。”他说道。
　　“这是事实。”荷米恩站起来说，“如果他看到你……你怎么再一次打开那个女巫下面的机关？”
　　“你——你轻拍它并说，‘得细店’。”哈利说，“但是——”
　　荷米恩不等她说完最后一句话，她就大步穿过房间，推开胖大婶的画像门后消失了。
　　“她没有去拿它？”罗恩盯着她说。
　　她去了。荷米恩大约一刻钟后赶了回来，且隐身斗篷放在她的长袍里。
　　“荷米恩，我不知道你为什么迟到了！”罗恩很吃惊的说，“你首先打败了马尔夫，接着你走出去找特雷络尼教授——”
　　荷米恩看起来好像平静了一些。
　　他们和别人一样去吃饭但没有回到格林芬顿塔。哈利把大衣藏在他的长袍的前面，他只好把手臂弯着以便隐藏鼓起来的部分。他们隐蔽的消失在大厅的出人口，听着动静，直到确认没有人后，他们听到最后两个人匆忙的消失在大厅里，门“砰”
　　的一声关上了。荷米恩在门前伸出头看了看，“没有人了——披上隐身斗篷。”
　　他们紧紧的走在一起以防别人看见他们。他们踮着脚在斗篷下穿过大厅，接着穿过前面的石头台阶走到地上。太阳正在禁林那边落下，透过树顶的缝隙闪闪发光。
　　他们到了哈格力的小木屋后敲门。过了一会他才开门，而开了门他看了一下来访者，脸一下子变白了，浑身还在发抖。
　　“是我们，”哈利轻轻的说，“我们披着隐身斗篷。让我们进去把它脱下来。”
　　“啊，你们不该来呀！”哈格力低声说，但他后退了几步让他们走进来。哈格力迅速送上门，而哈利脱下了斗篷。
　　哈格力没有哭，也没有冲上去拖住他们。他看起来像一个不知道去哪、也不知干什么的人，他是那样无助。
　　“想喝点茶吗？”他说。当他把手伸向水壶的时候他的手在发抖。
　　“毕克碧在哪里，哈格力？”荷米恩急切的说。
　　“我——我带他出去了，”哈格力说，当他往杯子里加奶的时候奶撒在了桌子上。
　　哈格力的手颤抖的那么厉害，牛奶壶脱离了手，落在地上摔碎了。
　　“我来做，哈格力。”荷米恩迅速的并开始收拾地上。
　　“还有一些在壁橱里。”哈格力坐下来用袖子擦着额头说。哈利看着失望向后看的罗恩。
　　“这还有什么需要帮忙的吗，哈格力？”哈利坐在他的旁边说，“丹伯多——”
　　“他累了，”哈格力说，“他没有能力控制委员会。他谈的关于毕克碧的都对，但他们恐吓他……唉，你知道马尔夫是怎样恐吓他的吗？我希望……宣判者，马可尼尔，他是一个马尔夫的伙伴……
　　哈格力咽了一口唾沫。他的眼睛环视小木屋好像在寻求一处有希望的安全的庇护场所。
　　“丹伯多确定了，今天早上给我写了这个。他说他想跟我在一起。伟大的人，丹伯多……”
　　荷米恩在努力从哈格力的壁橱里找茶壶的时候，发出一声轻微的急促的抽泣。
　　她把茶壶拿在手中，努力抑制住泪水。
　　“我们将和你在一起，哈格力。”她说，但哈格力摇了摇他那长满粗发的头。
　　“现在你们应该回城堡了。或说，是的，我不想让你们介入。并且你们也不必再呆在这里了……如果科恩尔发现你不经允许擅自外出，哈利你的麻烦就大了。”
　　无言的泪水从荷米恩脸上流下来，但她在哈格力面前毫不掩饰。
　　忙碌着准备茶。接着她抓起牛奶瓶子往壶里加牛奶，她发出了一声尖叫。
　　“罗恩，我——我不相信——它是斯卡伯斯！”
　　罗思目瞪口呆的望着她。
　　“你在说些什么？”
　　荷米恩把牛奶壶拿到桌子上并把它翻转过来。随着痛苦的吱吱声和极力的想回到里面，斯卡伯斯老鼠滑到了桌子上。
　　“斯卡伯斯汀罗思急切的说，”斯卡伯斯，你在这儿做什么？“
　　他抓住挣扎着的老鼠到有亮光的地方。斯卡伯斯看起来很可怕。他比以前更瘦了，一大束头发落下来后露出了光光的头皮，他痛苦的在罗恩手中扭动着想逃脱。
　　“好极了，斯卡伯斯！”罗恩说，“没有猫，这没有人要伤害你！”
　　哈格力突然站起来盯着窗外。他鲜红的脸变的像羊皮纸一样。
　　“他们来了……？”
　　哈利，罗思和荷米恩低声商量了一下。一队人从远处的城堡中走了出来。走在前面的是艾伯斯。丹伯多，他的银色胡子在太阳底下闪闪发光，他的后面是科恩尔。
　　里尔斯，他们的后面是委员会的成员们和审判人马可尼尔。
　　“唉，快走。”哈格力说。他们每个人都在发抖，“他们一定发现了你在这儿……快点，现在……
　　罗恩把斯卡伯斯装入口袋，而荷米恩抓起大衣。
　　“我让你们从后门出去。”哈格力说。
　　他们跟着他走到了后面的花园。哈利觉的很奇怪，甚至看到了几米之外的毕克碧，隐藏于哈格力的南瓜碎片后面的树上。毕克碧好像知道发生了什么事。他把头转向了一边，紧张的抓着泥土。
　　“好极了，毕克碧。”哈格力温柔的说，“好极了……”他转向哈利，罗恩和荷米恩，“继续。”他说，“快点过去。”
　　但是他们没有动。
　　“哈格力，不，我们不能——”
　　“我们将告诉你发生了什么事——”
　　“他们不能杀害他——”
　　“进去！”哈格力凶狠的说，“没有你介入困境已经很糟糕了！”
　　他们没有选择。当荷米恩把大衣被在哈利和罗恩身上时，他们听到小木屋前面的噪杂声。哈格力看着他们刚刚消失的地方。
　　“快点。”他急促的说，“听见了吗……”
　　他大步走回小木屋时有人正在敲他的前门。
　　慢慢的在一个极小的通道上，哈利、罗恩和荷米恩悄悄的看着哈格力的房子。
　　当他们走到另一边的时候，前门砰的一声关上了。
　　“求求你们，快点。”荷米恩低声说，“我忍不住了，我不能忍受……”
　　他们开始慢慢地向城堡走去。太阳飞快地落了下去。天空变得很清楚，显出紫灰的颜色，但在西方有一个鲜红的火球。
　　罗恩忽然停住了。
　　“噢，求你了，罗恩。”荷米恩说。
　　“是斯卡伯斯——它不会——停留下来——”
　　罗恩弯下腰来，努力把斯卡帕斯蹩在口袋里，但那个老鼠突然发疯了，疯狂地叫着，扭动着身于，奋力去咬罗恩的手指。
　　“斯卡伯斯，是我，你这个白痴，我是罗恩。”罗恩小声地说。
　　“他们忽然听到了门开了并响起了男人的声音。
　　“噢，罗恩，让我走，他们将那么做了！”荷米思喘着气说。
　　“好——斯卡伯斯，停下来——”
　　他们向前走去，哈利像荷米恩一样竭力不去听后面混乱的声音。
　　罗恩又一次停了下来。
　　“我不能告诉他——斯卡伯斯，闭嘴，每个人都能听到我们。”
　　老鼠正在尖锐地叫着，但没盖过哈格力在花园里的声音。接着是另外一把男声，接着静了下来，没有警告，无疑是斧子的挥动和撞击声。
　　荷米恩在那颤抖着。
　　“他们在那样做！”她悄悄地告诉哈利，“我不敢相信，他们真那样做了！”
Chapter 20 The Dementor's Kiss
Harry had never been part of a stranger group. Crookshanks led the way down the stairs; Lupin, Pettigrew, and Ron went next, looking like entrants in a six-legged race. Next came Professor Snape, drifting creepily along, his toes hitting each stair as they descended, held up by his own wand, which was being pointed at him by Sirius. Harry and Hermione brought up the rear.
Getting back into the tunnel was difficult. Lupin, Pettigrew, and Ron had to turn sideways to manage it; Lupin still had Pettigrew covered with his wand. Harry could see them edging awkwardly along the tunnel in single file. Crookshanks was still in the lead. Harry went right after Black, who was still making Snape drift along ahead of them; he kept bumping his lolling head on the low ceiling. Harry had the impression Black was making no effort to prevent this.
“You know what this means?” Black said abruptly to Harry as they made their slow progress along the tunnel. “Turning Pettigrew in?”
“You're free,” said Harry.
“Yes…” said Black. “But I'm also — I don't know if anyone ever told you — I'm your godfather.”
“Yeah, I knew that,” said Harry.
“Well… your parents appointed me your guardian,” said Black stiffly. “If anything happened to them…”
Harry waited. Did Black mean what he thought he meant?
“I'll understand, of course, if you want to stay with your aunt and uncle,” said Black. “But… well… think about it. Once my name's cleared… if you wanted a… a different home…”
Some sort of explosion took place in the pit of Harry's stomach.
“What — live with you?” he said, accidentally cracking his head on a bit of rock protruding from the ceiling. “Leave the Dursleys?”
“Of course, I thought you wouldn't want to,” said Black quickly. “I understand, I just thought I'd —”
“Are you insane?” said Harry, his voice easily as croaky as Black's. “Of course I want to leave the Dursleys! Have you got a house? When can I move in?”
Black turned right around to look at him; Snape's head was scraping the ceiling but Black didn't seem to care.
“You want to?” he said. “You mean it?”
“Yeah, I mean it!” said Harry.
Black's gaunt face broke into the first true smile Harry had seen upon it. The difference it made was startling, as though a person ten years younger were shining through the starved mask; for a moment, he was recognizable as the man who had laughed at Harry's parents’ wedding.
They did not speak again until they had reached the end of the tunnel. Crookshanks darted up first; he had evidently pressed his paw to the knot on the trunk, because Lupin, Pettigrew, and Ron clambered upward without any sound of savaging branches.
Black saw Snape up through the hole, then stood back for Harry and Hermione to pass. At last, all of them were out.
The grounds were very dark now; the only light came from the distant windows of the castle. Without a word, they set off. Pettigrew was still wheezing and occasionally whimpering. Harry's mind was buzzing. He was going to leave the Dursleys. He was going to live with Sirius Black, his parents’ best friend…. He felt dazed…. What would happen when he told the Dursleys he was going to live with the convict they'd seen on television…!
“One wrong move, Peter,” said Lupin threateningly ahead. His wand was still pointed sideways at Pettigrew's chest.
Silently they tramped through the grounds, the castle lights growing slowly larger. Snape was still drifting weirdly ahead of Black, his chin bumping on his chest. And then -
A cloud shifted. There were suddenly dim shadows on the ground. Their party was bathed in moonlight.
Snape collided with Lupin, Pettigrew, and Ron, who had stopped abruptly. Black froze. He flung out one arm to make Harry and Hermione stop.
Harry could see Lupin's silhouette. He had gone rigid. Then his limbs began to shake.
“Oh, my —” Hermione gasped. “He didn't take his potion tonight! He's not safe!”
“Run,” Black whispered. “Run. Now.”
But Harry couldn't run. Ron was chained to Pettigrew and Lupin. He leapt forward but Black caught him around the chest and threw him back.
“Leave it to me — RUN!”
There was a terrible snarling noise. Lupin's head was lengthening. So was his body. His shoulders were hunching. Hair was sprouting visibly on his face and hands, which were curling into clawed paws. Crookshanks's hair was on end again; he was backing away —
As the werewolf reared, snapping its long jaws, Sirius disappeared from Harry's side. He had transformed. The enormous, bearlike dog bounded forward. As the werewolf wrenched itself free of the manacle binding it, the dog seized it about the neck and pulled it backward, away from Ron and Pettigrew. They were locked, jaw to jaw, claws ripping at each other.
Harry stood, transfixed by the sight, too intent upon the battle to notice anything else. It was Hermione's scream that alerted him —
Pettigrew had dived for Lupin's dropped wand. Ron, unsteady on his bandaged leg, fell. There was a bang, a burst of light — and Ron lay motionless on the ground. Another bang — Crookshanks flew into the air and back to the earth in a heap.
“Expelliarmus.” Harry yelled, pointing his own wand at Pettigrew; Lupin's wand flew high into the air and out of sight. “Stay where you are!” Harry shouted, running forward.
Too late. Pettigrew had transformed. Harry saw his bald tail whip through the manacle on Ron's outstretched arm and heard a scurrying through the grass.
There was a howl and a rumbling growl; Harry turned to see the werewolf taking flight; it was galloping into the forest —
“Sirius, he's gone, Pettigrew transformed!” Harry yelled.
Black was bleeding; there were gashes across his muzzle and back, but at Harry's words he scrambled up again, and in an instant, the sound of his paws faded to silence as he pounded away across the grounds.
Harry and Hermione dashed over to Ron.
“What did he do to him?” Hermione whispered. Ron's eyes were only half-closed, his mouth hung open; he was definitely alive, they could hear him breathing, but he didn't seem to recognize them.
“I don't know….”
Harry looked desperately around. Black and Lupin both gone… they had no one but Snape for company, still hanging, unconscious, in midair.
“We'd better get them up to the castle and tell someone,” said Harry, pushing his hair out of his eyes, trying to think straight. “Come —”
But then, from beyond the range of their vision, they heard a yelping, a whining: a dog in pain….
“Sirius,” Harry muttered, staring into the darkness.
He had a moment's indecision, but there was nothing they could do for Ron at the moment, and by the sound of it, Black was in trouble —
Harry set off at a run, Hermione right behind him. The yelping seemed to be coming from the ground near the edge of the lake. They pelted toward it, and Harry, running flat out, felt the cold without realizing what it must mean -
The yelping stopped abruptly. As they reached the lakeshore, they saw why — Sirius had turned back into a man. He was crouched on all fours, his hands over his head.
“Nooo,” he moaned. “Nooo… please….”
And then Harry saw them. Dementors, at least a hundred of them, gliding in a black mass around the lake toward them. He spun around, the familiar, icy cold penetrating his insides, fog starting to obscure his vision; more were appearing out of the darkness on every side; they were encircling them….
“Hermione, think of something happy!” Harry yelled, raising his wand, blinking furiously to try and clear his vision, shaking his head to rid it of the faint screaming that had started inside it —
I'm going to live with my godfather. I'm leaving the Dursleys.
He forced himself to think of Black, and only Black, and began to chant: “Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum!”
Black gave a shudder, rolled over, and lay motionless on the ground, pale as death.
He'll be all right. I'm going to go and live with him.
“Expecto patronum! Hermione, help me! Expecto patronum!”
“Expecto —” Hermione whispered, “expecto — expecto —”
But she couldn't do it. The Dementors were closing in, barely ten feet from them. They formed a solid wall around Harry and Hermione, and were getting closer….
“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry yelled, trying to blot the screaming from his ears. “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”
A thin wisp of silver escaped his wand and hovered like mist before him. At the same moment, Harry felt Hermione collapse next to him. He was alone… completely alone….
“Expecto — expecto patronum —”
Harry felt his knees hit the cold grass. Fog was clouding his eyes. With a huge effort, he fought to remember — Sirius was innocent — innocent — We'll be okay — I'm going to live with him —
“Expecto patronum!” he gasped.
By the feeble light of his formless Patronus, he saw a Dementor halt, very close to him. It couldn't walk through the cloud of silver mist Harry had conjured. A dead, slimy hand slid out from under the cloak. It made a gesture as though to sweep the Patronus aside.
“No — no —” Harry gasped. “He's innocent… expecto expecto patronum —”
He could feet them watching him, hear their rattling breath like an evil wind around him. The nearest Dementor seemed to be considering him. Then it raised both its rotting hands — and lowered its hood.
Where there should have been eyes, there was only thin, gray scabbed skin, stretched blankly over empty sockets. But there was a mouth… a gaping, shapeless hole, sucking the air with the sound of a death rattle.
A paralyzing terror filled Harry so that he couldn't move or speak. His Patronus flickered and died.
White fog was blinding him. He had to fight… expecto patronum… he couldn't see… and in the distance, he heard the familiar screaming… expecto patronum… he groped in the mist for Sirius, and found his arm… they weren't going to take him….
But a pair of strong, clammy hands suddenly attached themselves around Harry's neck. They were forcing his face upward… He could feel its breath… It was going to get rid of him first… He could feel its putrid breath… His mother was screaming in his ears… She was going to be the last thing he ever heard —
And then, through the fog that was drowning him, he thought he saw a silvery light growing brighter and brighter… He felt himself fall forward onto the grass…. Facedown, too weak to move, sick and shaking, Harry opened his eyes. The Dementor must have released him. The blinding light was illuminating the grass around him…The screaming had stopped, the cold was ebbing away…
Something was driving the Dementors back… It was circling around him and Black and Hermione…. They were leaving….
The air was warm again….
With every ounce of strength he could muster, Harry raised his head a few inches and saw an animal amid the light, galloping away across the lake… Eyes blurred with sweat, Harry tried to make out what it was… It was as bright as a unicorn… Fighting to stay conscious, Harry watched it can'ter to a halt as it reached the opposite shore. For a moment, Harry saw, by its brightness, somebody welcoming it back… raising his hand to pat it… someone who looked strangely familiar… but it couldn't be…
Harry didn't understand. He couldn't think anymore. He felt the last of his strength leave him, and his head hit the ground as he fainted.
　哈利从来都不是这个奇怪的小组的一员。克路殊克带着他们沿楼梯走下去，露平、彼德吉雷还有罗恩紧跟其后，看起来就像是六只胳膊在玩接力赛一样。紧跟其后的是史纳皮教授，令人毛骨悚然的飘着走，下楼时，他是脚趾碰着一个又一个的台阶，被自己的魔杖支配着——西里斯正将魔杖对准着他，哈利和荷米恩在最后面。
　　重新回到地道是相当困难的，露平、彼德吉雷还有罗恩不得不侧着身走，露平仍然使彼德吉雷处于他的魔杖之下，哈利可以看见他们排成一队笨拙沿着地道的边缘走着。克路殊克仍走在前面，哈利就跟在西里斯后面。西里斯仍然使史纳皮在他们前面飘浮着，他那耷拉着的脑袋不时碰在低矮的天花板上，哈利看到西里斯并没想法去阻止这些。
　　“你知道这意味着什么吗？”西里斯突然问哈利，当他们在地道里缓慢行进的时候，“使彼德吉雷进入这里？”
　　“随便。”哈利说。
　　“好吧……”西里斯说，“但是我也——我也不知道是否有人告诉过你，——我是你的教父。”
　　“是的，我知道这些。”哈利说。
　　“好吧……你的父亲想让我做你的监护人，”西里斯局促地说，“如果你们出现什么意外……”
　　哈利等待着，西里斯要讲的与他所想的是否一样呢？
　　“当然，我明白，如果你想和你的姨丈、姨妈在一起的话，”西里斯说，“但是……嗯，想一想，一旦我的身份搞清楚了……如果你想有一个、一个不同的家。”
　　哈利的胃好像要炸开了似的。
　　“什么——与你住在一起？”他说，不小心将自己的脑袋碰在了地道顶上一个突出的岩石处，“离开杜斯利！”
　　“当然，我知道你并不想这么做，”西里斯赶快说，“我明白，我只是想……”
　　“你疯了吗？”哈利说，他的声音几乎与西里斯的一样嘶哑。“当然，我想离开杜斯利！但是你有自己的房子吗？我什么时候可以搬过去？”
　　西里斯又转向右边望着他，史纳皮的头又开始在地道顶上磕磕碰碰的，但是西里斯似乎并不关心。
　　“你想去吗？”他说，“我是指你想去吗？”
　　“是的，我确有此意！”哈利说。
　　西里斯那骨瘦如柴的脸上第一次出现了哈利所见过的真正的微笑。所展现出来的变化是惊人的，好像是一个年轻了十岁的人正在戴着一个枯瘦的面具欢笑一样。
　　一刹那之间，他又被看成是那个曾经在哈利的父母的婚礼上嘲笑他们的人了。
　　在到达地道口之前，他们没有再讲过话。克路殊克第一个冲了出去，很明显它用爪子按了柳树上的那个树结，因为露平，彼德吉雷和罗恩向上攀登的时候，都没有听到树枝的声响。西里斯看着史纳皮从洞口爬了上去，然后，站在一边等哈利和荷米恩先过去。最后，所有的人都出了地洞。
　　这个时候，地面上相当的黑，只有一束从远处城堡的窗户中射出的光。没有一句话，他们开始前进了。彼德吉雷仍然在大声地喘着气，偶发出一两声呜咽声。哈利的脑袋里乱成一团精，他将要离开杜斯利了，他将要与西里斯。巴拉克在一起，他父亲最好的朋友……他感到有些头晕……当他告诉若干杜斯利夫妇他将与他们在电视上看见过的罪犯一起生活时，会发生些什么呢！
　　“一着错棋，彼得。”露平在前面威胁着说。他的魔杖仍然指向一旁的彼德吉雷，对准他的胸部。
　　他们静静地穿过了空地，城堡透出的灯光慢慢地变亮了。史纳皮仍然在西里斯之前飘浮而行，他的下巴垂在胸前。然后——黑云飘了过去，地上有一些阴暗的影子，这一伙人沐浴在月光之下。史纳皮与露平、彼德吉雷还有罗恩撞成了一团，当露平突然停住的时候。西里斯僵住了，他挥了挥手臂让哈利和荷米恩停了下来。
　　哈利可以看到露平那黑色的轮廓，他顿时僵住了。然后，他的四肢开始发抖。
　　“哦，我的天呀……”荷米恩剧烈的喘息着，“今晚他忘记了带上药水，他并不安全。”
　　“快跑，”西里斯低声说，“马上！快跑！”
　　但是哈利不能跑。罗恩与彼德吉雷还有露平绑在了一起。他向前跑去，但是西里斯抓住了他的手腕，把他扔了回去。
　　“交给我来处理——快跑。”
　　这时有一阵恐怖咆哮声发出。露平的头正在逐渐地伸长，他的肩膀抱成一团，可以看得见他的脸上和手上开始长毛，他的双手变成了错缩着的爪子。克路殊克背上的毛又一次竖了起来，它开始向后退。
　　人狼抬起了头，它舔着自己的长嘴巴。西里斯从哈利的身边消失了，他开始变形了。一只巨大的，形如熊般的狗向前走去。当人狼挣脱了铐着他的手铐时，西里斯咬住了它的脖子并开始向后拉它，离开了罗恩和彼德吉雷。它们绞在了一起，嘴咬着嘴，爪子撕扯着对方——哈利站了起来，被这副景象给吸引住了，他过于专注而忘记了去注意其它的一切，荷米恩的尖叫声惊醒了他。彼德吉雷向露平扔下的魔杖冲去。罗恩无法借助绑了绷带的腿站稳，跌倒在地，“嘣”的一声一束光闪过——罗恩躺在地上失去了知觉。又是一声，克路殊克飞向天空，又落回地面。
　　“伊斯彼特华朗！”哈利喊到，将自己的魔杖对准了彼德吉雷，露平的手杖飞入空中消失于视线之外。“站在那里，不许动！”哈利嚷道，向前跑去。
　　太晚了，彼德吉雷已经开始变形了。哈利看见他那光秃秃的尾巴从系在罗恩手臂上的手铐中滑出。接着，草地里传出一阵悉悉索索的声音。
　　一阵曝叫与低声的咆哮传了出来，哈利看到露平飞了起来，然后飞奔着跑进森林里。
　　“西里斯，彼德吉雷变形逃走了！”哈利叫道。
　　西里斯正在流着血，他的嘴上和背上都布满伤痕。但是一听到哈利的话，他就又重新振作起来，只一会儿，他的爪子弄出的声音就随他的远去而消失了。
　　哈利和荷米恩向罗恩冲去。
　　“他对他做了什么？”荷米恩喃喃自语道。罗恩的眼睛只是半闭着，他的嘴微张着。他肯定还活着，他们可以听到他的呼吸声，但是他却不认得他们了。
　　“我不知道。”
　　哈利殷切的望了望四周。巴拉克和露平都离开了……只剩下史纳皮与他们在一起，仍然无知觉地悬在半空中。
　　“我们最好将他们带回城堡，并将这件事告诉别人。”哈利说，地拨了拨掉在眼前的头发，正要继续说下去“过来——”
　　但是这时，他听到一只狗在黑暗中痛苦的哭叫着……
　　“是西里斯。”哈利喃喃道，并望向了黑暗之中。
　　他一时拿不定主意，但是目前他们面对罗恩束手无策，而且听这声音，巴拉克肯定是遇上了麻烦——哈利开始狂奔起来，荷米恩紧紧地跟在他身后。这叫声似乎是从湖边传来的，他们一起向那里冲去。哈利跑得快要飞起来了，他感觉到冷意，但不知为什么。
　　叫喊声突然停了下来。当他们到达湖边时，他们终于找到了原因——西里斯已经变回人形，趴在地上，双手盖在头上。
　　“不要……”他呻吟着，“不要……”
　　然后哈利看到了他们，得蒙特，至少有一百多个。黑黑的一群在湖面上滑翔。
　　他吃惊地看向四周，那股熟悉的、冰凉的寒流侵入到他的体内，雾使他的视力开始变得模糊，越来越多的得蒙特从黑暗中涌出，出现在他们四周，他们被包围了……
　　“荷米恩，想一些愉快的事！”哈利喊道，他举起了魔杖，气愤地眨着眼试图恢复视力，摇着头以图摆脱起先进入他心中的微弱的尖叫声。
　　“我要与我的教父在一起，我要离开杜斯利夫妇。”他迫使自己去想西里斯，并且只想他，他开始唱圣歌：“伊斯彼特华朗！伊斯彼特华朗！”
　　“伊斯——”荷米恩喃喃道，“伊斯——伊斯——”
　　但是她做不到。得蒙特越来越近，离他们只有十英尺了。他们在哈利和荷米恩的周围形成了一道坚固的墙，而且离得越来越近“伊斯彼特华朗，”哈利叫喊着，试图将那些尖叫声从耳边赶走，“伊斯彼特华朗。”
　　一缕细细的银光从哈利的手杖射出，并像薄雾一样在他面前盘旋。与此同时，哈利听到荷米恩倒在了他身旁。现在他是孤身一人，地地道道的孤身一人了。
　　“伊斯——伊斯彼特华朗！”
　　哈利跪在了冰冷的草地上，雾像云似的迷糊了他的双眼。用尽全力，他努力记起——西里斯是无辜的——无辜的——我们都会没事的——我要与他住在一起。
　　“伊斯彼特华朗！”他喘着粗气说。
　　借助无形的吧卓泥斯发出的光，他看到一只得蒙特停了下来，离他相当的近。
　　它无法穿过哈利施魔法产生的银白色的薄雾。一只死气沉沉，薄如蝉翼的手从斗篷下面伸出。它做了一个手势好像是要将吧卓泥斯驱走似的。
　　“不要——不要——”哈利喘着气说，“他是无辜的——伊斯彼特华朗——”
　　他可以感觉到他们在盯着他，可以听到他们那尖利的呼吸声如同一股邪风一样包围着他。最近的得蒙特好像正在啄磨他，然后他举起了那双腐烂的手——拉下了他的头罩。
　　在应该长着眼睛的地方，只有一层灰色的，结了痴的薄薄的皮，糊住了空空的眼窝。不过，这里有一张嘴，一个长满牙齿，毫无形状的洞，伴随着充满死亡的尖叫声，抽吸着空气。
　　哈利被一种令人瘫痪的恐惧包围着，以至于他无法动弹，也无法讲话。他的吧卓泥斯逐渐地削弱并消失了。白雾使他看不见东西，他不得不挣扎着，伊斯彼特华朗，他看不见远处的东西。他可以听见那种熟悉的尖叫声……伊斯彼特华朗……他在薄雾中摸索着寻找西里斯并且抓住了他的手臂……他们不会带走他的……
　　但是，突然之间，一双有力的，笨拙的手绕在了哈利的脖了上面，迫使他的脸向上……他可以感到那阵呼吸，他会先要了他的命，那是一种充满腐烂气味的呼吸……他的母亲在他的耳边尖叫……这是他听到的最后的声音。
　　然后，他被浓雾淹没了，他似乎看到了银色的光变得越来越亮……他觉得自己向前摔到了草地上——脸向下，过于虚弱而无法动弹，恶心并颤抖着，哈利睁开了他的双眼，刺眼的光芒照亮了他身边的草地。尖叫声已经停止了，冷意也已经消散了。
　　不知是什么将得蒙特召了回去……它们曾经包围了他、荷米恩和西里斯。得蒙特所发出的那些刺耳的、吮吸的声音消失了，他们已经离开了，空气又变得温暖了。
　　用尽所有他可以聚集的力量，哈利将头抬起了几英寸，看见了一只动物在薄雾之中。穿过湖的上空飞驰而去。哈利想看清那是什么，但是汗水模糊了他的双眼…
　　…它如同独角兽一样，明亮，努力保
　　持着清醒，哈利看到它小跑着到达对岸停了下来。这一刻，借着光亮，哈利看到有人正在欢迎它的回归……举起他的手抚摸着它……
　　那个人看起来令人奇怪但又很熟悉……但是那不可能是……
　　哈利无法明白这一切，他再也想不下去了。他感觉到失去了最后一丝力气，他的头垂了下来，再次晕了过去。
Chapter 21 Hermione's Secret
“Shocking business… shocking… miracle none of them died… never heard the like… by thunder, it was lucky you were there, Snape…”
“Thank you, Minister.”
“Order of Merlin, Second Class, I'd say. First Class, if I can wangle it!”
“Thank you very much indeed, Minister.”
“Nasty cut you've got there… Black's work, I suppose?”
“As a matter of fact, it was Potter, Weasley, and Granger, Minister…”
“No!”
“Black had bewitched them, I saw it immediately. A Confundus Charm, to judge by their behavior. They seemed to think there was a possibility he was innocent. They weren't responsible for their actions. On the other hand, their interference might have permitted Black to escape… They obviously thought they were going to catch Black single-handed. They've got away with a great deal before now… I'm afraid it's given them a rather high opinion of themselves… and of course Potter has always been allowed an extraordinary amount of license by the headmaster —”
“Ah, well, Snape… Harry Potter, you know… we've all got a bit of a blind spot where he's concerned.”
“And yet — is it good for him to be given so much special treatment? Personally, I try and treat him like any other student. And any other student would be suspended — at the very least — for leading his friends into such danger. Consider, Minister — against all school rules — after all the precautions put in place for his protection — out-of-bounds, at night, consorting with a werewolf and a murderer — and I have reason to believe he has been visiting Hogsmeade illegally too —”
“Well, well… we shall see, Snape, we shall see… The boy has undoubtedly been foolish….”
Harry lay listening with his eyes tight shut. He felt very groggy. The words he was hearing seemed to be traveling very slowly from his ears to his brain, so that it was difficult to understand…. His limbs felt like lead; his eyelids too heavy to lift…. He wanted to lie here, on this comfortable bed, forever….
“What amazes me most is the behavior of the Dementors… you've really no idea what made them retreat, Snape?”
“No, Minister… by the time I had come ‘round they were heading back to their positions at the entrances….”
“Extraordinary. And yet Black, and Harry, and the girl —”
“All unconscious by the time I reached them. I bound and gagged Black, naturally, conjured stretchers, and brought them all straight back to the castle.”
There was a pause. Harry's brain seemed to be moving a little faster, and as it did, a gnawing sensation grew in the pit of his stomach….
He opened his eyes.
Everything was slightly blurred. Somebody had removed his glasses. He was lying in the dark hospital wing. At the very end of the ward, he could make out Madam Pomfrey with her back to him, bending over a bed. Harry squinted. Ron's red hair was visible beneath Madam Pomfrey's arm.
Harry moved his head over on the pillow. In the bed to his right lay Hermione. Moonlight was falling across her bed. Her eyes were open too. She looked petrified, and when she saw that Harry was awake, pressed a finger to her lips, then pointed to the hospital wing door. It was ajar, and the voices of Cornelius Fudge and Snape were coming through it from the corridor outside.
Madam Pomfrey now came walking briskly up the dark ward to Harry's bed. He turned to took at her. She was carrying the largest block of chocolate he had ever seen in his life. It looked like a small boulder.
“Ah, you're awake!” she said briskly. She placed the chocolate on Harry's bedside table and began breaking it apart with a small hammer.
“How's Ron?” said Harry and Hermione together.
“He'll live,” said Madam Pomfrey grimly. “As for you two, you'll be staying here until I'm satisfied you're — Potter, what do you think you're doing?”
Harry was sitting up, putting his glasses back on, and picking up his wand.
“I need to see the headmaster,” he said.
“Potter,” said Madam Pomfrey soothingly, “it's all right. They've got Black. He's locked away upstairs. The Dementors will be performing the kiss any moment now —”
“WHAT?”
Harry jumped up out of bed; Hermione had done the same. But his shout had been heard in the corridor outside; next second, Cornelius Fudge and Snape had entered the ward.
“Harry, Harry, what's this?” said Fudge, looking agitated. “You should be in bed — has he had any chocolate?” he asked Madam Pomfrey anxiously.
“Minister, listen!” Harry said. “Sirius Black's innocent! Peter Pettigrew faked his own death! We saw him tonight! You can't let the Dementors do that thing to Sirius, he's —”
But Fudge was shaking his head with a small smile on his face.
“Harry, Harry, you're very confused, you've been through a dreadful ordeal, lie back down, now, we've got everything under control…”
“YOU HAVEN'T!” Harry yelled. “YOU'VE GOT THE WRONG MAN!”
“Minister, listen, please,” Hermione said; she had hurried to Harry's side and was gazing imploringly into Fudge's face. “I saw him too. It was Ron's rat, he's an Animagus, Pettigrew, I mean, and —”
“You see, Minister?” said Snape. “Confunded, both of them… Black's done a very good job on them….”
“WE'RE NOT CONFUNDED!” Harry roared.
“Minister! Professor!” said Madam Pomfrey angrily. “I must insist that you leave. Potter is my patient, and he should not be distressed!”
“I'm not distressed, I'm trying to tell them what happened!” Harry said furiously. “If they'd just listen —”
But Madam Pomfrey suddenly stuffed a large chunk of chocolate into Harry”s mouth; he choked, and she seized the opportunity to force him back onto the bed.
“Now, please, Minister, these children need care. Please leave.”
The door opened again. It was Dumbledore. Harry swallowed his mouthful of chocolate with great difficulty and got up again.
“Professor Dumbledore, Sirius Black —”
“For heaven's sake!” said Madam Pomfrey hysterically. “Is this a hospital wing or not? Headmaster, I must insist —”
“My apologies, Poppy, but I need a word with Mr. Potter and Miss Granger,” said Dumbledore calmly. “I have just been talking to Sirius Black —”
“I suppose he's told you the same fairy tale he's planted in Potter's mind?” spat Snape. “Something about a rat, and Pettigrew being alive —”
“That, indeed, is Black's story,” said Dumbledore, surveying Snape closely through his half-moon spectacles.
“And does my evidence count for nothing?” snarled Snape. “Peter Pettigrew was not in the Shrieking Shack, nor did I see any sign of him on the grounds.”
“That was because you were knocked out, Professor!” said Hermione earnestly. “You didn't arrive in time to hear.”
“Miss Granger, HOLD YOUR TONGUE!”
“Now, Snape,” said Fudge, startled, “the young lady is disturbed in her mind, we must make allowances —”
“I would like to speak to Harry and Hermione alone,” said Dumbledore abruptly. “Cornelius, Severus, Poppy — please leave us.”
“Headmaster!” sputtered Madam Pomfrey. “They need treatment, they need rest —”
“This cannot wait,” said Dumbledore. “I must insist.”
Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips and strode away into her office at the end of the ward, slamming the door behind her. Fudge consulted the large gold pocket watch dangling from his waistcoat.
“The Dementors should have arrived by now,” he said. “I'll go and meet them. Dumbledore, I'll see you upstairs.”
He crossed to the door and held it open for Snape, but Snape hadn't moved.
“You surely don't believe a word of Black's story?” Snape whispered, his eyes fixed on Dumbledore's face.
“I wish to speak to Harry and Hermione alone,” Dumbledore repeated.
Snape took a step toward Dumbledore.
“Sirius Black showed he was capable of murder at the age of sixteen,” he breathed. “You haven't forgotten that, Headmaster? You haven't forgotten that he once tried to kill me?”
“My memory is as good as it ever was, Severus,” said Dumbledore quietly.
Snape turned on his heel and marched through the door Fudge was still holding. It closed behind them, and Dumbledore turned to Harry and Hermione. They both burst into speech at the same time.
“Professor, Black's telling the truth — we saw Pettigrew — he escaped when Professor Lupin turned into a werewolf —”
“— he's a rat —”
“— Pettigrew's front paw, I mean, finger, he cut it off —”
“— Pettigrew attacked Ron, it wasn't Sirius —”
But Dumbledore held up his hand to stem the flood of explanations.
“It is your turn to listen, and I beg you will not interrupt me, because there is very little time,” he said quietly. “There is not a shred of proof to support Black's story, except your word — and the word of two thirteen-year-old wizards will not convince anybody. A street full of eyewitnesses swore they saw Sirius murder Pettigrew. I myself gave evidence to the Ministry that Sirius had been the Potters’ Secret-Keeper.”
“Professor Lupin can tell you —” Harry said, unable to stop himself
“Professor Lupin is currently deep in the forest, unable to tell anyone anything. By the time he is human again, it will be too late, Sirius will be worse than dead. I might add that werewolves are so mistrusted by most of our kind that his support will count for very little and the fact that he and Sirius are old friends —”
“But —”
“Listen to me, Harry. It is too late, you understand me? You must see that Professor Snape's version of events is far more convincing than yours.”
“He hates Sirius,” Hermione said desperately. “All because of some stupid trick Sirius played on him —”
“Sirius has not acted like an innocent man. The attack on the Fat Lady — entering Gryffindor Tower with a knife — without Pettigrew, alive or dead, we have no chance of overturning Sirius's sentence.”
“But you believe us.”
“Yes, I do,” said Dumbledore quietly. “But I have no power to make other men see the truth, or to overrule the Minister of Magic….”
Harry stared up into the grave face and felt as though the ground beneath him were falling sharply away. He had grown used to the idea that Dumbledore could solve anything. He had expected Dumbledore to pull some amazing solution out of the air. But no … their last hope was gone.
“What we need,” said Dumbledore slowly, and his light blue eyes moved from Harry to Hermione, “is more time.”
“But —” Hermione began. And then her eyes became very round. “OH!”
“Now, pay attention,” said Dumbledore, speaking very low, and very clearly. “Sirius is locked in Professor Flitwick's office on the seventh floor. Thirteenth window from the right of the West Tower. If all goes well, you will be able to save more than one innocent life tonight. But remember this, both of you: you must not be seen. Miss Granger, you know the law — you know what is at stake…You — must — not — be —seen.”
Harry didn't have a clue what was going on. Dumbledore had turned on his heel and looked back as he reached the door.
“I am going to lock you in. It is —” he consulted his watch, “five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck.”
“Good luck?” Harry repeated as the door closed behind Dumbledore. “Three turns? What's he talking about? What are we supposed to do?”
But Hermione was fumbling with the neck of her robes, pulling from beneath them a very long, very fine gold chain.
“Harry, come here,” she said urgently. “Quick!”
Harry moved toward her, completely bewildered. She was holding the chain out. He saw a tiny, sparkling hourglass hanging from it.
“Here —”
She had thrown the chain around his neck too.
“Ready?” she said breathlessly.
“What are we doing?” Harry said, completely lost.
Hermione turned the hourglass over three times.
The dark ward dissolved. Harry had the sensation that he was flying very fast, backward. A blur of colors and shapes rushed past him, his ears were pounding, he tried to yell but couldn't hear his own voice —
And then he felt solid ground beneath his feet, and everything came into focus again —
He was standing next to Hermione in the deserted entrance hall and a stream of golden sunlight was falling across the paved floor from the open front doors. He looked wildly around at Hermione, the chain of the hourglass cutting into his neck.
“Hermione, what —?”
“In here!” Hermione seized Harry's arm and dragged him across the hall to the door of a broom closet; she opened it, pushed him inside among the buckets and mops, then slammed the door behind them.
“What — how — Hermione, what happened?”
“We've gone back in time,” Hermione whispered, lifting the chain off Harry's neck in the darkness. “Three hours back…”
Harry found his own leg and gave it a very hard pinch. It hurt a lot, which seemed to rule out the possibility that he was having a very bizarre dream.
“But —”
“Shh! Listen! Someone's coming! I think — I think it might be us!’ Hermione had her ear pressed against the cupboard door.
“Footsteps across the hall… yes, I think it's us going down to Hagrid's!”
“Are you telling me,” Harry whispered, “that we're here in this cupboard and we're out there too?”
“Yes,” said Hermione, her ear still glued to the cupboard door. “I'm sure it's us. It doesn't sound like more than three people… and we're walking slowly because we're under the Invisibility Cloak — “
She broke off, still listening intently.
“We've gone down the front steps….”
Hermione sat down on an upturned bucket, looking desperately anxious, but Harry wanted a few questions answered.
“Where did you get that hourglass thing?”
“It's called a Time-Turner,” Hermione whispered, “and I got it from Professor McGonagall on our first day back. I've been using it all year to get to all my lessons. Professor McGonagall made me swear I wouldn't tell anyone. She had to write all sorts of letters to the Ministry of Magic so I could have one. She had to tell them that I was a model student, and that I'd never, ever use it for anything except my studies… I've been turning it back so I could do hours over again, that's how I've been doing several lessons at once, see? But…
“Harry, I don't understand what Dumbledore wants us to do. Why did he tell us to go back three hours? How's that going to help Sirius?”
Harry stared at her shadowy face.
“There must be something that happened around now he wants us to change,” he said slowly. “What happened? We were walking down to Hagrid's three hours ago….”
“This is three hours ago, and we are walking down to Hagrid's,” said Hermione. “We just heard ourselves leaving….”
Harry frowned; he felt as though he were screwing up his whole brain in concentration.
“Dumbledore just said — just said we could save more than one innocent life…” And then it hit him. “Hermione, we're going to save Buckbeak!”
“But — how will that help Sirius?”
“Dumbledore said — he just told us where the window is — the window of Flitwick's office! Where they've got Sirius locked up! We've got to fly Buckbeak up to the window and rescue Sirius! Sirius can escape on Buckbeak — they can escape together!”
From what Harry could see of Hermione's face, she looked terrified.
“If we manage that without being seen, it'll be a miracle!”
“Well, we've got to try, haven't we?” said Harry. He stood up andvpressed his ear against the door. “Doesn't sound like anyone's there… Come on, let's go.”
Harry pushed open the closet door. The entrance hall was deserted. As quietly and quickly as they could, they darted out of the closet and down the stone steps. The shadows were already lengthening, the tops of the trees in the Forbidden Forest gilded once more with gold.
“If anyone's looking out of the window —” Hermione squeaked, looking up at the castle behind them.
“We'll run for it,” said Harry determinedly. “Straight into the forest, all right? We'll have to hide behind a tree or something and keep a lookout —”
“Okay, but we'll go around by the greenhouses!’ said Hermione breathlessly. “We need to keep out of sight of Hagrid's front door, or we'll see us! We must be nearly at Hagrid's by now!”
Still working out what she meant, Harry set off at a sprint, Hermione behind him. They tore across the vegetable gardens to the greenhouses, paused for a moment behind them, then set off again, fast as they could, skirting around the Whomping Willow, tearing toward the shelter of the forest….
Safe in the shadows of the trees, Harry turned around; seconds later, Hermione arrived beside him, panting.
“Right,” she gasped. “We need to sneak over to Hagrid's…. Keep out of sight, Harry….”
They made their way silently through the trees, keeping to the very edge of the forest. Then, as they glimpsed the front of Hagrid's house, they heard a knock upon his door. They moved quickly behind a wide oak trunk and peered out from either side. Hagrid had appeared in his doorway, shaking and white, looking around to see who had knocked. And Harry heard his own voice.
“It's us. We're wearing the Invisibility Cloak. Let us in and we can take it off.”
“Yeh shouldn've come!” Hagrid whispered. He stood back, then shut the door quickly.
“This is the weirdest thing we've ever done,” Harry said fervently.
“Let's move along a bit,” Hermione whispered. “We need to get nearer to Buckbeak!”
They crept through the trees until they saw the nervous Hippogriff, tethered to the fence around Hagrid's pumpkin patch.
“Now?” Harry whispered.
“No!” said Hermione. “If we steal him now, those Committee people will think Hagrid set him free! We've got to wait until they've seen he's tied outside!”
“That's going to give us about sixty seconds,” said Harry. This was starting to seem impossible.
At that moment, there was a crash of breaking china from inside Hagrid's cabin.
“That's Hagrid breaking the milk jug,” Hermione whispered. “I'm going to find Scabbers in a moment —”
Sure enough, a few minutes later, they heard Hermione's shriek of surprise.
“Hermione,” said Harry suddenly, “what if we — we just run in there and grab Pettigrew —”
“No!” said Hermione in a terrified whisper. “Don't you understand? We're breaking one of the most important wizarding laws! Nobody's supposed to change time, nobody! You heard Dumbledore, if we're seen —”
“We'd only be seen by ourselves and Hagrid!”
“Harry, what do you think you'd do if you saw yourself bursting into Hagrid's house?” said Hermione.
“I'd — I'd think I'd gone mad,” said Harry, “or I'd think there was some Dark Magic going on —”
“Exactly! You wouldn't understand, you might even attack yourself! Don't you see? Professor McGonagall told me what awful things have happened when wizards have meddled with time… Loads of them ended up killing their past or future selves by mistake!”
“Okay!” said Harry. “It was just an idea, I just thought —”
But Hermione nudged him and pointed toward the castle. Harry moved his head a few inches to get a clear view of the distant front doors. Dumbledore, Fudge, the old Committee member, and Macnair the executioner were coming down the steps.
“We're about to come out!” Hermione breathed.
And sure enough, moments later, Hagrid's back door opened, and Harry saw himself, Ron, and Hermione walking out of it with Hagrid. It was, without a doubt, the strangest sensation of his life, standing behind the tree, and watching himself in the pumpkin patch.
“It's Okay, Beaky, it's okay…” Hagrid said to Buckbeak. Then he turned to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “Go on. Get goin'.”
“Hagrid, we can't —”
“We'll tell them what really happened —”
“They can't kill him —”
“Go! It's bad enough without you lot in trouble an’ all!”
Harry watched the Hermione in the pumpkin patch throw the Invisibility Cloak over him and Ron.
“Go quick. Don’ listen….”
There was a knock on Hagrid's front door. The execution party had arrived. Hagrid turned, around and headed back into his cabin, leaving the back door ajar. Harry watched the grass flatten in patches all around the cabin and heard three pairs of feet retreating. He, Ron, and Hermione had gone… but the Harry and Hermione hidden in the trees could now hear what was happening inside the cabin through the back door.
“Where is the beast?” came the cold voice of Macnair.
“Out — outside,” Hagrid croaked.
Harry pulled his head out of sight as Macnair's face appeared at Hagrid's window, staring out at Buckbeak. Then they heard Fudge.
“We — er — have to read you the official notice of execution, Hagrid. I'll make it quick. And then you and Macnair need to sign it. Macnair, You're supposed to listen too, that's procedure —”
Macnair's face vanished from the window. It was now or never.
“Wait here,” Harry whispered to Hermione. “I'll do it.”
As Fudge's voice started again, Harry darted out from behind his tree, vaulted the fence into the pumpkin patch, and approached Buckbeak.
“It is the decision of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures that the Hippogriff Buckbeak, hereafter called the condemned, shall he executed on the sixth of June at sundown —”
Careful not to blink, Harry stared up into Buckbeak's fierce orange eyes once more and bowed. Buckbeak sank to his scaly knees and then stood up again. Harry began to fumble with the knot of rope tying Buckbeak to the fence.
“… sentenced to execution by beheading, to be carried out by the Committee's appointed executioner, Walden Macnair…”
“Come on, Buckbeak,” Harry murmured, “come on, we're going to help you. Quietly… quietly…”
“… as witnessed below. Hagrid, you sign here…”
Harry threw all his weight onto the rope, but Buckbeak had dug in his front feet.
“Well, let's get this over with,” said the reedy voice of the Committee member from inside Hagrid's cabin. “Hagrid, perhaps it will be better if you stay inside —”
“No, I — I wan’ ter be with him…. I don’ wan’ him ter be alone —”
Footsteps echoed from within the cabin.
“Buckbeak, move!” Harry hissed.
Harry tugged harder on the rope around Buckbeak's neck. The Hippogriff began to walk, rustling its wings irritably. They were still ten feet away from the forest, in plain view of Hagrid's back door. “One moment, please, Macnair,” came Dumbledore's voice. “You need to sign too.” The footsteps stopped. Harry heaved on the rope. Buckbeak snapped his beak and walked a little faster.
Hermione's white face was sticking out from behind a tree.
“Harry, hurry!” she mouthed.
Harry could still hear Dumbledore's voice talking from within the cabin. He gave the rope another wrench. Buckbeak broke into a grudging trot. They had reached the trees….
“Quick! Quick!” Hermione moaned, darting out from behind her tree, seizing the rope too and adding her weight to make Buckbeak move faster. Harry looked over his shoulder; they were now blocked from sight; they couldn't see Hagrid's garden at all.
“Stop!” he whispered to Hermione. “They might hear us.”
Hagrid's back door had opened with a bang. Harry, Hermione, and Buckbeak stood quite still; even the Hippogriff seemed to be listening intently. Silence… then —
“Where is it?” said the reedy voice of the Committee member. “Where is the beast?”
“It was tied here!” said the executioner furiously. “I saw it! Just here!”
“How extraordinary,” said Dumbledore. There was a note of amusement in his voice.
“Beaky!” said Hagrid huskily.
There was a swishing noise, and the thud of an axe. The executioner seemed to have swung it into the fence in anger. And then came the howling, and this time they could hear Hagrid's words through his sobs.
“Gone! Gone! Bless his little beak, he's gone! Musta pulled himself free! Beaky, yeh clever boy!”
Buckbeak started to strain against the rope, trying to get back to Hagrid. Harry and Hermione tightened their grip and dug their heels into the forest floor to stop him.
“Someone untied him!” the executioner was snarling. “We should search the grounds, the forest.”
“Macnair, if Buckbeak has indeed been stolen, do you really think the thief will have led him away on foot?” said Dumbledore, still sounding amused. “Search the skies, if you will…. Hagrid, I could do with a cup of tea. Or a large brandy.”
“O’ — o’ course, Professor,” said Hagrid, who sounded weak with happiness. “Come in, come in….”
Harry and Hermione listened closely. They heard footsteps, the soft cursing of the executioner, the snap of the door, and then silence once more.
“Now what?” whispered Harry, looking around.
“We'll have to hide in here,” said Hermione, who looked very shaken. “We need to wait until they've gone back to the castle. Then we wait until it's safe to fly Buckbeak up to Sirius's window. He won't be there for another couple of hours…. Oh, this is going to be difficult….”
She looked nervously over her shoulder into the depths of the forest. The sun was setting now.
“We're going to have to move,” said Harry, thinking hard. “We've got to be able to see the Whomping Willow, or we won't know what's going on.”
“Okay,” said Hermione, getting a firmer grip on Buckbeak's rope. “But we've got to keep out of sight, Harry, remember….”
They moved around the edge of the forest, darkness falling thickly around them, until they were hidden behind a clump of trees through which they could make out the Willow.
“There's Ron!” said Harry suddenly.
A dark figure was sprinting across the lawn and its shout echoed through the still night air.
“Get away from him — get away — Scabbers, come here —”
And then they saw two more figures materialize out of nowhere. Harry watched himself and Hermione chasing afte
r Ron. Then he saw Ron dive.
“Gotcha! Get off, you stinking cat —”
“There's Sirius!” said Harry. The great shape of the dog had bounded out from the roots of the Willow. They saw him bowl Harry over, then seize on….
“Looks even worse from here, doesn't it?” said Harry, watching the dog pulling Ron into the roots. “Ouch — look, I just got walloped by the tree — and so did you — this is weird-”
The Whomping Willow was creaking and lashing out with its lower branches; they could see themselves darting here and there, trying to reach the trunk. And then the tree froze.
“That was Crookshanks pressing the knot,” said Hermione.
“And there we go…” Harry muttered. “We're in.”
The moment they disappeared, the tree began to move again. Seconds later, they heard footsteps quite close by. Dumbledore, Macnair, Fudge, and the old Committee member were making their way up to the castle.
“Right after we'd gone down into the passage!” said Hermione. “If only Dumbledore had come with us…”
“Macnair and Fudge would've come too,” said Harry bitterly. “I bet you anything Fudge would've told Macnair to murder Sirius on the spot….”
They watched the four men climb the castle steps and disappear from view. For a few minutes the scene was deserted. Then —
“Here comes Lupin!” said Harry as they saw another figure sprinting down the stone steps and halting toward the Willow. Harry looked up at the sky. Clouds were obscuring the moon completely.
They watched Lupin seize a broken branch from the ground and prod the knot on the trunk. The tree stopped fighting, and Lupin, too, disappeared into the gap in its roots.
“If he'd only grabbed the cloak,” said Harry. “It's just lying there….”
He turned to Hermione.
“If I just dashed out now and grabbed it, Snape'd never be able to get it and —”
“Harry, we mustn't be seen!”
“How can you stand this?” he asked Hermione fiercely. “Just standing here and watching it happen?” He hesitated. “I'm going to grab the cloak!”
“Harry, no!”
Hermione seized the back of Harry's robes not a moment too soon. Just then, they heard a burst of song. It was Hagrid, making his way up to the castle, singing at the top of his voice, and weaving slightly as he walked. A large bottle was swinging from his hands.
“See?” Hermione whispered. “See what would have happened? We've got to keep out of sight! No, Buckbeak!”
The Hippogriff was making frantic attempts to get to Hagrid again; Harry seized his rope too, straining to hold Buckbeak back. They watched Hagrid meander tipsily up to the castle. He was gone. Buckbeak stopped fighting to get away. His head drooped sadly.
　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*
Barely two minutes later, the castle doors flew open yet again, and Snape came charging out of them, running toward the Willow.
Harry's fists clenched as they watched Snape skid to a halt next to the tree, looking around. He grabbed the cloak and held it up.
“Get your filthy hands off it,” Harry snarled under his breath.
“Shh!”
Snape seized the branch Lupin had used to freeze the tree, prodded the knot, and vanished from view as he put on the cloak.
“So that's it,” said Hermione quietly. “We're all down there… and now we've just got to wait until we come back up again….”
She took the end of Buckbeak's rope and tied it securely around the nearest tree, then sat down on the dry ground, arms around her knees.
“Harry, there's something I don't understand…. Why didn't the Dementors get Sirius? I remember them coming, and then I think I passed out… there were so many of them….”
Harry sat down too. He explained what he'd seen; how, as the nearest Dementor had lowered its mouth to Harry's, a large silver something had come galloping across the lake and forced the Dementors to retreat.
Hermione's mouth was slightly open by the time Harry had finished.
“But what was it?”
“There's only one thing it could have been, to make the Dementors go,” said Harry. “A real Patronus. A powerful one.”
“But who conjured it?”
Harry didn't say anything. He was thinking back to the person he'd seen on the other bank of the lake. He knew who he thought it had been… but how could it have been?
“Didn't you see what they looked like?” said Hermione eagerly. “Was it one of the teachers?”
“No,” said Harry. “He wasn't a teacher.”
“But it must have been a really powerful wizard, to drive all those Dementors away… If the Patronus was shining so brightly, didn't it light him up? Couldn't you see —?”
“Yeah, I saw him,” said Harry slowly. “But… maybe I imagined it… I wasn't thinking straight… I passed out right afterward….”
“Who did you think it was?”
“I think —” Harry swallowed, knowing how strange this was going to sound. “I think it was my dad.”
Harry glanced up at Hermione and saw that her mouth was fully open now. She was gazing at him with a mixture of alarm and pity.
“Harry, your dad's — well — dead,” she said quietly.
“I know that,” said Harry quickly.
“You think you saw his ghost?”
“I don't know… no… he looked solid….”
“But then —”
“Maybe I was seeing things,” said Harry. “But… from what I could see… it looked like him…. I've got photos of him….”
Hermione was still looking at him as though worried about his sanity. “I know it sounds crazy,” said Harry flatly. He turned to took at Buckbeak, who was digging his beak into the ground, apparently searching for worms. But he wasn't really watching Buckbeak.
He was thinking about his father and about his father's three oldest friends… Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs…. Had all four of them been out on the grounds tonight? Wormtail had reappeared this evening when everyone had thought he was dead… Was it so impossible his father had done the same? Had he been seeing things across the take? The figure had been too far away to see distinctly… yet he had felt sure, for a moment, before he'd lost consciousness….
The leaves overhead rustled faintly in the breeze. The moon drifted in and out of sight behind the shifting clouds. Hermione sat with her face turned toward the Willow, waiting.
And then, at last, after over an hour…
“Here we come!” Hermione whispered.
She and Harry got to their feet. Buckbeak raised his head. They saw Lupin, Ron, and Pettigrew clambering awkwardly out of the hole in the roots. Then came Hermione… then the unconscious Snape, drifting weirdly upward. Next came Harry and Black. They all began to walk toward the castle.
Harry's heart was starting to beat very fast. He glanced up at the sky. Any moment now, that cloud was going to move aside and show the moon…
“Harry,” Hermione muttered as though she knew exactly what he was thinking, “we've got to stay put. We mustn't be seen. There's nothing we can do….”
“So we're just going to let Pettigrew escape all over again…” said Harry quietly.
“How do you expect to find a rat in the dark?” snapped Hermione. “There's nothing we can do! We came back to help Sirius; we're not supposed to be doing anything else!”
“All right!”
The moon slid out from behind its cloud. They saw the tiny figures across the grounds stop. Then they saw movement —
“There goes Lupin,” Hermione whispered. “He's transforming.”
“Hermione!” said Harry suddenly. “We've got to move!”
“We mustn't, I keep telling you —”
“Not to interfere! Lupin's going to run into the forest, right at us!”
Hermione gasped.
“Quick!” she moaned, dashing to untie Buckbeak. “Quick! Where are we going to go? Where are we going to hide? The Dementors will be coming any moment —”
“Back to Hagrid's!” Harry said. “It's empty now — come on!”
They ran as fast as they could, Buckbeak cantering along behind them. They could hear the werewolf howling behind them….
The cabin was in sight; Harry skidded to the door, wrenched it open, and Hermione and Buckbeak flashed past him; Harry threw himself in after them and bolted the door. Fang the boarhound barked loudly.
“Shh, Fang, it's us!” said Hermione, hurrying over and scratching his ears to quieten him. “That was really close!” she said to Harry.
“Yeah…”
Harry was looking out of the window. It was much harder to see what was going on from here. Buckbeak seemed very happy to find himself back inside Hagrid's house. He lay down in front of the fire, folded his wings contentedly, and seemed ready for a good nap.
“I think I'd better go outside again, you know,” said Harry slowly. “I can't see what's going on — we won't know when it's time —”
Hermione looked up. Her expression was suspicious.
“I'm not going to try and interfere,” said Harry quickly. “But if we don't see what's going on, how're we going to know when it's time to rescue Sirius?”
“Well… okay, then… I'll wait here with Buckbeak… but Harry, be careful — there's a werewolf out there — and the Dementors.”
Harry stepped outside again and edged around the cabin. He could hear yelping in the distance. That meant the Dementors were closing in on Sirius…. He and Hermione would be running to him any moment….
Harry stared out toward the lake, his heart doing a kind of drumroll in his chest…. Whoever had sent that Patronus would be appearing at any moment….
For a fraction of a second he stood, irresolute, in front of Hagrid's door. You must not be seen. But he didn't want to be seen. He wanted to do the seeing…. He had to know…
And there were the Dementors. They were emerging out of the darkness from every direction, gliding around the edges of the lake…. They were moving away from where Harry stood, to the opposite bank…. He wouldn't have to get near them….
Harry began to run. He had no thought in his head except his father… If it was him… if it really was him… he had to know, had to find out….
The lake was coming nearer and nearer, but there was no sign of anybody. On the opposite bank, he could see tiny glimmers of silver — his own attempts at a Patronus —
There was a bush at the very edge of the water. Harry threw himself behind it, peering desperately through the leaves. On the opposite bank, the glimmers of silver were suddenly extinguished. A terrified excitement shot through him — any moment now —
“Come on!” he muttered, staring about. “Where are you? Dad, come on —”
But no one came. Harry raised his head to look at the circle of Dementors across the lake. One of them was lowering its hood. It was time for the rescuer to appear — but no one was coming to help this time —
And then it hit him — he understood. He hadn't seen his father he had seen himself —
Harry flung himself out from behind the bush and pulled out his wand.
“EXPECTO PATRONUM! ” he yelled.
And out of the end of his wand burst, not a shapeless cloud of mist, but a blinding, dazzling, silver animal. He screwed up his eyes, trying to see what it was. It looked like a horse. It was galloping silently away from him, across the black surface of the lake. He saw it lower its head and charge at the swarming Dementors…. Now it was galloping around and around the black shapes on the ground, and the Dementors were falling back, scattering, retreating into the darkness…. They were gone.
The Patronus turned. It was cantering back toward Harry across the still surface of the water. It wasn't a horse. It wasn't a unicorn, either. It was a stag. It was shining brightly as the moon above … it was coming back to him….
It stopped on the bank. Its hooves made no mark on the soft ground as it stared at Harry with its large, silver eyes. Slowly, it bowed its antlered head. And Harry realized… “Prongs,” he whispered.
But as his trembling fingertips stretched toward the creature, it vanished.
Harry stood there, hand still outstretched. Then, with a great leap of his heart, he heard hooves behind him. He whirled around and saw Hermione dashing toward him, dragging Buckbeak behind her.
“What did you do?” she said fiercely. “You said you were only going to keep a lookout!”
“I just saved all our lives…” said Harry. “Get behind here behind this bush — I'll explain.”
Hermione listened to what had just happened with her mouth open yet again.
“Did anyone see you?”
“Yes, haven't you been listening? I saw me but I thought I was my dad! It's okay!”
“Harry, I can't believe it… You conjured up a Patronus that drove away all those Dementors! That's very, very advanced magic.”
“I knew I could do it this time,” said Harry, “because I'd already done it… Does that make sense?”
“I don't know — Harry, look at Snape!”
Together they peered around the bush at the other bank. Snape had regained consciousness. He was conjuring stretchers and lifting the limp forms of Harry, Hermione, and Black onto them. A fourth stretcher, no doubt bearing Ron, was already floating at his side. Then, wand held out in front of him, he moved them away toward the castle.
“Right, it's nearly time,” said Hermione tensely, looking at her watch. “We've got about forty-five minutes until Dumbledore locks the door to the hospital wing. We've got to rescue Sirius and get back into the ward before anybody realizes we're missing….”
They waited, watching the moving clouds reflected in the lake, while the bush next to them whispered in the breeze. Buckbeak, bored, was ferreting for worms again.
“Do you reckon he's up there yet?” said Harry, checking his watch. He looked up at the castle and began counting the windows to the right of the West Tower.
“Look!” Hermione whispered. “Who's that? Someone's coming back out of the castle!”
Harry stared through the darkness. The man was hurrying across the grounds, toward one of the entrances. Something shiny glinted in his belt.
“Macnair!” said Harry. “The executioner! He's gone to get the Dementors! This is it, Hermione —”
Hermione put her hands on Buckbeak's back and Harry gave her a leg up. Then he placed his foot on one of the lower branches of the bush and climbed up in front of her. He pulled Buckbeak's rope back over his neck and tied it to the other side of his collar like reins.
“Ready?” he whispered to Hermione. “You'd better hold on to me —”
He nudged Buckbeak's sides with his heels.
Buckbeak soared straight into the dark air. Harry gripped his flanks with his knees, feeling the great wings rising powerfully beneath them. Hermione was holding Harry very tight around the waist; he could hear her muttering, “Oh, no — I don't like this oh, I really don't like this —”
Harry urged Buckbeak forward. They were gliding quietly toward the upper floors of the castle…. Harry pulled hard on the left-hand side of the rope, and Buckbeak turned. Harry was trying to count the windows flashing past —
“Whoa!” he said, pulling backward as hard as he could.
Buckbeak slowed down and they found themselves at a stop, unless you counted the fact that they kept rising up and down several feet as the Hippogriff beat his wings to remain airborne.
“He's there!” Harry said, spotting Sirius as they rose up beside the window. He reached out, and as Buckbeak's wings fell, was able to tap sharply on the glass.
Black looked up. Harry saw his jaw drop. He leapt from his chair, hurried to the window and tried to open it, but it was locked.
“Stand back!” Hermione called to him, and she took out her wand, still gripping the back of Harry's robes with her left hand.
“Alohomora!”
The window sprang open.
“How — how —?” said Black weakly, staring at the Hippogriff.
“Get on — there's not much time,” said Harry, gripping Buckbeak firmly on either side of his sleek neck to hold him steady. “You've got to get out of here -the Dementors are coming — Macnair's gone to get them.”
Black placed a hand on either side of the window frame and heaved his head and shoulders out of it. It was very lucky he was so thin. In seconds, he had managed to fling one leg over Buckbeak's back and pull himself onto the Hippogriff behind Hermione.
“Okay, Buckbeak, up!” said Harry, shaking the rope. “Up to the tower — come on.”
The Hippogriff gave one sweep of its mighty wings and they were soaring upward again, high as the top of the West Tower. Buckbeak landed with a clatter on the battlements, and Harry and Hermione slid off him at once.
“Sirius, you'd better go, quick,” Harry panted. “They'll reach Flitwick's office any moment, they'll find out you're gone.”
Buckbeak pawed the ground, tossing his sharp head.
“What happened to the other boy? Ron?” croaked Sirius.
“He's going to be okay. He's still out of it, but Madam Pomfrey says she'll be able to make him better. Quick — go —”
But Black was still staring down at Harry.
“How can I ever thank —”
“GO!” Harry and Hermione shouted together.
Black wheeled Buckbeak around, facing the open sky.
“We'll see each other again,” he said. “You are — truly your father's son, Harry…”
He squeezed Buckbeak's sides with his heels. Harry and Hermione jumped back as the enormous wings rose once more… The Hippogriff took off into the air… He and his rider became smaller and smaller as Harry gazed after them… then a cloud drifted across the moon…. They were gone.
　“令人震惊的消息，太令人震惊了……你们一个也没有死，这简直是奇迹……从未听说过这种事……很幸运可以再次见到你，史纳皮。”
　　“谢谢你，部长。”
　　“马里的命令，第二流的，我应该说是第一流的，如果我能应付它。”
　　“真得很感谢你，部长。”
　　“尼克查出你去了那里……肯定是因为巴拉克，我猜？”
　　“事实上，是波特，威斯里还有格林佐，部长。”
　　“不可能！”
　　“是巴拉克对他们施了魔法，我亲眼看见的。一种乱人心智的法力。你可以从他们的行为上看出来，他们似乎在想他是无辜的，他们根本不为他们的行为负责任。
　　另一方面，他们的干涉使得巴拉克得以逃脱……很明显，他们以为可以单枪匹马的抓住巴拉克。在这之前，他们经常这样做……恐怕，给了他们太多的主动性……当然，波特一直就被校长允许了许多特权。“
　　“哈，好吧！史纳皮……你是知道的，我们都不曾了解他所忧虑的。”
　　“但是——给他那么多特殊对待合适吗？我就个人而言，我希望能够像对待其他学生那样对待他。别的学生肯定会被停学的——至少而言，他曾使他的朋友陷入如此大的危险中。想想吧，部长，违反学校的规章制度——没有采取任何的预防措施，只靠他自己——走出边界。在晚上，与一只人狼和一个杀人犯结交——我有理由相信，他也曾经非法地访问过霍格马得——”
　　“好了，好了，我会查一下的，史纳皮，我会查一下的，这群孩子无疑是很愚蠢的……”
　　哈利紧闭着眼躺着听着，他觉得有些眩晕。他所听得到的话似乎要很久才能从他的耳朵到达大脑，以至于很难听得懂。他的四肢似乎装满了铅，他甚至都无力抬起眼皮。他想要永远，永远都躺在这张舒服的床上。
　　“最令我吃惊的就是得蒙特的行为……你真的不知道是什么迫使它们后退的吗？
　　史纳皮？“
　　“不知道，部长。当我到达的时候，只看到他们已经退回到他们领地的入口处……”
　　“太奇怪了，那么巴拉克，哈利还有那个女孩——”
　　“他们全都毫无知觉，在我到达之时，我被绑着并且被封住了嘴，自然，我变出了几个担架并把他们全都直接带回了城堡。”
　　停了一下，哈利的脑袋好像转得快了一点，当他思想的时候，一种被撕咬的感觉出现在他的胃里。
　　他睁开了双眼。
　　所有的东西看起来都很模糊，有人拿走了他的眼镜。他躺在医院内一间黑暗的病房里。在病房的另一端，他可以看到波姆弗雷夫人正背对着他，在一张床前弯着腰，哈利眯着眼，看见波姆弗雷夫人手臂下罗恩的红发。
　　哈利将头扭向枕头的另一边，在他右边的床上躺着荷米恩。月亮照在她的床上。
　　她也睁着眼，她看起来像是被吓呆了。当她看到哈利醒来的时候，将食指放在了嘴唇上，然后指向病房的门，门半开着，史纳皮和可尼斯。法治在楼道里说话的声音从那传进来。
　　现在波姆弗雷夫人轻快地走进黑暗的病房，走到哈利床前。他扭头看着她。她正捧着一块他从未见过的最大的巧克力，就像是一小块巨石。
　　“哈，你醒了！”她轻快地说，她将巧克力放在他床边的茶几上，用一把小锤将它搞碎。
　　“罗恩怎么样？”哈利和荷米恩一起问道。
　　“他会活下来的，‘被姆弗雷夫人微笑着说，”至于你们两个，你们得呆在这儿，直到我满意时为止——波特，你以为你在做什么？“
　　哈利坐起来，将他的眼镜戴上，拿起了魔杖。
　　“我要见校长。”他说。
　　“波特，”波姆弗雷夫人说，“放心吧！他们抓住巴拉克了，他就被锁在楼上，现在，得蒙特随时都可以准备执行亲吻了。”
　　“什么？”
　　哈利从床上跳了下来，荷米恩和他做的一样。但是他的叫声马上就被楼道外面的人听到了，下一秒钟，可尼斯和史纳皮都冲进了病房。
　　“哈利，哈利，什么事？”法治问，看起来很激动的样子。“你应该呆在床上——他已经吃了巧克力了吗？”他焦急地问波姆弗雷夫人。
　　“部长，听着！”哈利说，“西里斯。巴拉克是无辜的！彼得。彼德吉雷制造了假死的一幕！我们今晚见到了他！你不能让得蒙特这样对待他，他是——”
　　但是法治摇了摇头笑了一下。
　　“哈利，哈利你被搞糊涂了，你曾经过了一段苦难经历，现在，躺回去，我们已经控制了一切。”
　　“你并没有，”哈利喊道，“你们抓错了人。”
　　“部长，请听清楚，”荷米恩说，她匆忙来到哈利身侧，乞求地望着法治的脸，“我也见到他了，就是罗恩的那只老鼠，他是一个由人变成的动物，我是说彼德吉雷，而且——”
　　“你看见了，部长？”史纳皮说，“他们都被蛊惑了，巴拉克的确做得不错…
　　…“
　　“我们没有被蛊惑！”哈利咆哮着。
　　“部长！教授！”波姆弗雷夫人恼怒地说，“我必须坚持让你们离开。波特是我的病人，他不能被你们打搅。”
　　“我并没有被打搅，我在尽力告诉他们所发生的一切片哈利生气地说，”如果他们肯听——“但是波姆弗雷夫人突然将一大块巧克力，塞入哈利嘴里，他咳嗽着。她趁机又将他弄到床上。
　　“现在，请走吧！部长，这些孩子需要照顾，请离开——”
　　门又被打开了，丹伯多走了进来，哈利费力地吞掉满口巧克力，又站了起来。
　　“丹伯多教授，西里斯。巴拉克——”
　　“看在老天爷的份上，”波姆弗雷夫人声斯力竭的喊道，“这里是病房，不是吗？校长，我必须坚持——”
　　“对不起，波比，但是我有话要与波特先生和格林佐小姐谈，”丹伯多平静地说，“我刚刚与西里斯。巴拉克谈过话——”
　　“我想他给你讲了同样的根植于哈利脑海中的故事，”史纳皮吐了一口口水说，“一些关于一只老鼠和彼德吉雷仍然活着的事。”
　　“不错，的确如此，巴拉克的故事。”丹伯多说。透过那副半月形的眼镜琢磨着他。
　　“那么我所说的就不能证明任何东西了吗？”史纳皮咆哮着。“彼得。彼德吉雷并不在什拉克。刹克，我也没从地上看到它存在的迹象。”
　　“这是因为你被打晕了，教授！”荷米恩认真的说，“你来的不够及时以至于没有听到——”
　　“格林佐小姐，你给我闭嘴。”
　　“现在，史纳皮，”法治说，“这位小姐已经被搞得混乱了，我们必须做——”
　　“我想单独同哈利还有荷米恩小姐谈谈，”丹伯多突然说，“可尼斯，史纳皮，波比，请离开。”
　　“校长，”波姆弗雷夫人抱怨道，“他们需要治疗，他们得休息”这件事不能等了，“丹伯多说，”我必须坚持。“波姆弗雷夫人叹着嘴，离开了病房，走向她的办公室。当她离开病房时，重重地把门关上了。法治看了看他手上配戴的金表。
　　“刽子手现在应该到了，”他说，“我先去见他们，丹伯多，我在楼上等你。
　　他走向门口，并为史纳皮开着门，但史纳皮并没有动。
　　“你实在是不应该相信巴拉克的故事。”他低声说，他的眼睛直盯向丹伯多。
　　“我想单独与哈利和荷米恩谈谈。”丹伯多重复说。
　　史纳皮向丹伯多跨进了一步。
　　“西里斯。巴拉克在他十六岁时就向我显示出他可以谋杀别人，”
　　他喘着气说，“你并没有忘记吧！校长？你不会忘记他曾经企图杀死我吧？”
　　“我的记忆力和以前一样的好，史纳皮。”丹伯多冷静的说。
　　史纳皮转过身，走过了法治仍在为他开启的门，然后门在他们后面关上了。丹伯多转向哈利和荷米恩。他们同时开始讲话。
　　“教授，巴拉克讲的是实话，我见到了彼德吉雷。”
　　“他趁着露平变成人狼的机会逃走了。”
　　“他是只老鼠。”
　　“彼德吉雷的前爪，我是说他的手指，他砍掉了一个。”
　　“是彼德吉雷攻击罗恩的，不是西里斯。”
　　但是丹伯多举了举手，截住了他们的各种理由。
　　“现在轮到你们仔细听着了，我求你们不要打断我，因为剩下的时间不多了。”
　　他冷静的说，“现在除了你们的话，再也没有任何证据。
　　两个十三岁的巫师讲出来的话无法令任何人信服。有整整一条街的人都发誓说他们看见西里斯谋杀了彼德吉雷，而我则向部里做证说西里斯是波特夫妇的保密人。
　　“”露平教授可以告诉您——“哈利说，无法控制住自己。
　　“露平教授现在在深林里，无法跟任何人说话，等到他再变成人的时候，已经太晚了，西里斯会变得更惨。况且人狼并不被我们这些人所信任，他的支持者也无足轻重——事实上，他和西里斯又是老朋友——”
　　“但是——”
　　“听我说，哈利，太迟了，你明白吗？你肯定已经看到史纳皮讲的比你讲的更能令人信服。”
　　“他恨西里斯。”荷米恩急切的说，“这都是因为西里斯与他开了那么愚蠢的玩笑。”
　　“西里斯的所作所为也不像一个无辜的人。他曾经攻击过一个胖大婶，曾带着刀进人格林芬顿塔——不管彼德吉雷是生是死，我们都无法为西里斯翻案。”
　　“但是您相信我们。”
　　“是的，我相信。”丹伯多轻轻的说，“但是，我没有办法使他们相信，或者用魔法驳回部里的……”
　　哈利盯着他那张严肃的脸，看起来就像是他脚下的地突然沉了下去似的。他已经习惯了丹伯多可以解决一切问题的想法，他正在期望着丹伯多能够从空气中变戏法似的揪了解决的方法。但是没有……他们最后的一线希望也失去了。
　　“我们需要什么呢？”丹伯多慢慢地说，他那蓝亮的眼睛从哈利移向荷米恩，“更多的时间。”
　　“但是——”荷米恩开口说。然后，她的双眼睁的大大的，“哦！”
　　“现在，请注意。”丹伯多低声地，清晰地说，“西里斯被锁在费立维克教授的办公室，在第七层。从塔的西边向右数第十三个窗户。
　　如果一切顺利的话，今晚你可以换救不止一条无辜的生命。但是记住，你们两个。你不能被别人看见，格林佐小姐，你知道规则——你知道这是关键所在——你一定不能被发现。“哈利对所在发生的事一点头绪都没有，丹伯多转身离开，走到门口时又一次转过头来。”我要把你锁起来，现在是——“他看了看手表，”距离午夜还有五分钟，格林佐小姐，做这件事你要转三个圈，祝你好运。“
　　“祝你好运？”当门在丹伯多身后关上时，哈利重复着，“三个转圈？他在讲些什么？我们应该怎么做？”
　　但是荷米恩在她的抱子的颈部紧张地摸索着，拉出一根很长，很长的金链。
　　“哈利，过来，”她急促地说，“快一点！”
　　哈利朝她走去，完全糊涂了，她将链子拿出来，他看见了一个微小的，闪着火花的时间球悬在正中。
　　“这里——”
　　她将链子也系在了他的脖子上。
　　“准备好了吗？”她屏住呼吸问。
　　“我们要做什么？”哈利说，他完全迷糊了。
　　荷米恩将玻璃球转了三个圈。
　　黑暗的病房瞬间融入黑慕之中了，哈利觉得好像飞起来了一样，向后飞快的飞。
　　一些模糊的形状和颜色经过他身边他的耳朵竖了起来。他想喊，但却听不见自己的声音。
　　然后，他感觉到坚实的土地又在脚下了，东西也逐渐可以看清楚了——他站在一个废弃的大厅的入口处，站在荷米恩的身边，一束金色的阳光从前门射出，照在铺着的地面上。他疯狂地看着荷米恩，链子嵌在他的脖了上。
　　“荷米恩，怎么——？”
　　“就在这儿。”荷米恩抓住了哈利的手臂，将他拖到大厅里的扫帚厨口处。
　　她打开它，将他推了进去，与铲斗和拖把挤在一起，然后，跟着他进去，“嘣”
　　的一声将门关上。
　　“什么——怎么了——荷米恩，发生了什么？”
　　“我们必须及时赶回去，”荷米恩低