Harry potter 5 order of the p j k rowling

Dudley Demented The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive Cars that were usually gleaming stood dusty in their drives and lawns that were once emerald green lay parched and yellowing for the use of hosepipes had been banned due to drought Deprived of their usual carwashing and lawn-mowing pursuits, the inhabitants of Privet Drive had retreated into the shade of their cool houses, windows thrown wide in the hope of tempting in a nonexistent breeze The only person left outdoors was a teenage boy who was lying flat on his back in a flowerbed outside number four He was a skinny, black-haired, bespectacled boy who had the pinched, slightly unhealthy look of someone who has grown a lot in a short space of time His jeans were torn and dirty, his T-shirt baggy and faded, and the soles of his trainers were peeling away from the uppers Harry Potter's appearance did not endear him to the neighbours, who were the sort of people who thought scruffi-ness ought to be punishable by law, but as he had hidden himself behind a large hydrangea bush this evening he was quite invisible to passers-by In fact, the only way he would be spotted was if his Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia stuck their heads out of the livingroom window and looked straight down into the flowerbed below On the whole, Harry thought he was to be congratulated on his idea of hiding here He was not, perhaps, very comfortable lying on the hot, hard earth but, on the other hand, nobody was glaring at him, grinding their teeth so loudly that he could not hear the news, or shooting nasty questions at him, as had happened every time he had tried sitting down in the living room to watch television with his aunt and uncle Almost as though this thought had fluttered through the open window, Vernon Dursley, Harry's uncle, suddenly spoke 'Glad to see the boy's stopped trying to butt in Where is he, anyway?' 'I don't know,' said Aunt Petunia, unconcerned 'Not in the house.' Uncle Vernon grunted 'Watching the news …' he said scathingly 'I'd like to know what he's really up to As if a normal boy cares what's on the news Dudley hasn't got a clue what's going on; doubt he knows who the Prime Minister is! Anyway, it's not as if there'd be anything about his lot on our news — ' 'Vernon, shh!' said Aunt Petunia The window's open!' 'Oh - yes - sorry, dear.' The Dursleys fell silent Harry listened to a jingle about Fruit 'n' Bran breakfast cereal while he watched Mrs Figg, a batty cat-loving old lady from nearby Wisteria Walk, amble slowly past She was frowning and muttering to herself Harry was very pleased he was concealed behind the bush, as Mrs Figg had recently taken to asking him round for tea whenever she met him in the street She had rounded the corner and vanished from view before Uncle Vernon's voice floated out of the window again 'Dudders out for tea?' 'At the Polkisses',' said Aunt Petunia fondly 'He's got so many little friends, he's so popular Harry suppressed a snort with difficulty The Dursleys really were astonishingly stupid about their son, Dudley They had swallowed all his dim-witted lies about having tea with a different member of his gang every night of the summer holidays Harry knew perfectly well that Dudley had not been to tea anywhere; he and his gang spent every evening vandalising the play park, smoking on street corners and throwing stones at passing cars and children Harry had seen them at it during his evening walks around Little Whinging; he had spent most of the holidays wandering the streets, scavenging newspapers from bins along the way The opening notes of the music that heralded the seven o'clock news reached Harry's ears and his stomach turned over Perhaps tonight - after a month of waiting - would be the night 'Record numbers of stranded holiday makers fill airports as the Spanish baggagehandlers' strike reaches its second week 'Give 'em a lifelong siesta, I would,' snarled Uncle Vernon over the end of the newsreader's sentence, but no matter: outside in the flowerbed, Harrys stomach seemed to unclench If anything had happened, it would surely have been the first item on the news; death and destruction were more important than stranded holidaymakers He let out a long, slow breath and stared up at the brilliant blue sky Every day this summer had been the same: the tension, the expectation, the temporary relief, and then mounting tension again… and always, growing more insistent all the time, the question of why nothing had happened yet He kept listening, just in case there was some small clue, not recognised for what it really was by the Muggles - an unexplained disappearance, perhaps, or some strange accident… but the baggage-handlers' strike was followed by news about the drought in the Southeast ('I hope he's listening next door!' bellowed Uncle Vernon 'Him with his sprinklers on at three in the morning!'), then a helicopter that had almost crashed in a field in Surrey, then a famous actress's divorce from her famous husband ('As if we're interested in their sordid affairs,' sniffed Aunt Petunia, who had followed the case obsessively in every magazine she could lay her bony hands on) Harry closed his eyes against the now blazing evening sky as the newsreader said, ' and finally, Bungy the budgie has found a novel way of keeping cool this summer Bungy, who lives at the Five Feathers in Barnsley, has learned to water ski! Mary Dorkins went to find out more.' Harry opened his eyes If they had reached water-skiing budgerigars, there would be nothing else worth hearing He rolled cautiously on to his front and raised himself on to his knees and elbows, preparing to crawl out from under the window He had moved about two inches when several things happened in very quick succession A loud, echoing crack broke the sleepy silence like a gunshot; a cat streaked out from under a parked car and flew out of sight; a shriek, a bellowed oath and the sound of breaking china came from the Dursleys' living room, and as though this was the signal Harry had been waiting for he jumped to his feet, at the same time pulling from the waistband of his jeans a thin wooden wand as if he were unsheathing a sword - but before he could draw himself up to full height, the top of his head collided with the Dursleys' open window The resultant crash made Aunt Petunia scream even louder Harry felt as though his head had been split in two Eyes streaming, he swayed, trying to focus on the street to spot the source of the noise, but he had barely staggered upright when two large purple hands reached through the open window and closed tightly around his throat 'Put - it - away!' Uncle Vernon snarled into Harry's ear 'Now.' Before - anyone - sees!' 'Get - off - me!' Harry gasped For a few seconds they struggled, Harry pulling at his uncles sausage-like fingers with his left hand, his right maintaining a firm grip on his raised wand; then, as the pain in the top of Harry's head gave a particularly nasty throb, Uncle Vernon yelped and released Harry as though he had received an electric shock Some invisible force seemed to have surged through his nephew, making him impossible to hold Panting, Harry fell forwards over the hydrangea bush, straightened up and stared around There was no sign of what had caused the loud cracking noise, but there were several faces peering through various nearby windows Harry stuffed his wand hastily back into his jeans and tried to look innocent 'Lovely evening!' shouted Uncle Vernon, waving at Mrs Number Seven opposite, who was glaring from behind her net curtains 'Did you hear that car backfire just now? Gave Petunia and me quite a turn!' He continued to grin in a horrible, manic way until all the curious neighbours had disappeared from their various windows, then the grin became a grimace of rage as he beckoned Harry back towards him Harry moved a few steps closer, taking care to stop just short of the point at which Uncle Vernon's outstretched hands could resume their strangling 'What the devil you mean by it, boy?' asked Uncle Vernon in a croaky voice that trembled with fury 'What I mean by what?' said Harry coldly He kept looking left and right up the street, still hoping to see the person who had made the cracking noise 'Making a racket like a starting pistol right outside our - 'I didn't make that noise,' said Harry firmly Aunt Petunia's thin, horsy face now appeared beside Uncle Vernon's wide, purple one She looked livid 'Why were you lurking under our window?' 'Yes - yes, good point, Petunia! What were you doing under our window, boy?' 'Listening to the news,' said Harry in a resigned voice His aunt and uncle exchanged looks of outrage 'Listening to the news! Again?' 'Well, it changes every day, you see,' said Harry 'Don't you be clever with me, boy! I want to know what you're really up to - and don't give me any more of this listening to the news tosh! You know perfectly well that your lot 'Careful, Vernon!' breathed Aunt Petunia, and Uncle Vernon lowered his voice so that Harry could barely hear him,'- that your lot don't get on our news!' 'That's all you know,' said Harry The Dursleys goggled at him for a few seconds, then Aunt Petunia said, 'You're a nasty little liar What are all those -' she, too, lowered her voice so that Harry had to lip-read the next word, - owls doing if they're not bringing you news?' 'Aha!' said Uncle Vernon in a triumphant whisper 'Get out of that one, boy! As if we didn't know you get all your news from those pestilential birds!' Harry hesitated for a moment It cost him something to tell the truth this time, even though his aunt and uncle could not possibly know how bad he felt at admitting it 'The owls… aren't bringing me news,' he said tonelessly 'I don't believe it,' said Aunt Petunia at once 'No more I,' said Uncle Vernon forcefully 'We know you're up to something funny,' said Aunt Petunia 'We're not stupid, you know,' said Uncle Vernon 'Well, that's news to me,' said Harry, his temper rising, and before the Dursleys could call him back, he had wheeled about, crossed the front lawn, stepped over the low garden wall and was striding off up the street He was in trouble now and he knew it He would have to face his aunt and uncle later and pay the price for his rudeness, but he did not care very much just at the moment; he had much more pressing matters on his mind Harry was sure the cracking noise had been made by someone Apparating or Disapparating It was exactly the sound Dobby the house-elf made when he vanished into thin air Was it possible that Dobby was here in Privet Drive? Could Dobby be following him right at this very moment? As this thought occurred he wheeled around and stared back down Privet Drive, but it appeared to be completely deserted and Harry was sure that Dobby did not know how to become invisible He walked on, hardly aware of the route he was taking, for he had pounded these streets so often lately that his feet carried him to his favourite haunts automatically Every few steps he glanced back over his shoulder Someone magical had been near him as he lay among Aunt Petunia's dying begonias, he was sure of it Why hadn't they spoken to him, why hadn't they made contact, why were they hiding now? And then, as his feeling of frustration peaked, his certainty leaked away Perhaps it hadn't been a magical sound after all Perhaps he was so desperate for the tiniest sign of contact from the world to which he belonged that he was simply overreacting to perfectly ordinary noises Could he be sure it hadn't been the sound of something breaking inside a neighbour's house? Harry felt a dull, sinking sensation in his stomach and before he knew it the feeling of hopelessness that had plagued him all summer rolled over him once again Tomorrow morning he would be woken by the alarm at five o'clock so he could pay the owl that delivered the Daily Prophet but was there any point continuing to take it? Harry merely glanced at the front page before throwing it aside these days; when the idiots who ran the paper finally realised that Voldemort was back it would be headline news, and that was the only kind Harry cared about If he was lucky, there would also be owls carrying letters from his best friends Ron and Hermione, though any expectation he'd had that their letters would bring him news had long since been dashed We can't say much about you-know-what, obviously… We've been told not to say anything important in case our letters go astray… We're quite busy but I can't give you details here… There's a fair amount going on, we'll tell you everything when we see you… But when were they going to see him? Nobody seemed too bothered with a precise date Hermione had scribbled I expect we'll be seeing you quite soon inside his birthday card, but how soon was soon? As far as Harry could tell from the vague hints in their letters, Hermione and Ron were in the same place, presumably at Ron's parents' house He could hardly bear to think of the pair of them having fun at The Burrow when he was stuck in Privet Drive In fact, he was so angry with them he had thrown away, unopened, the two boxes of Honeydukes chocolates they'd sent him for his birthday He'd regretted it later, after the wilted salad Aunt Petunia had provided for dinner that night And what were Ron and Hermione busy with? Why wasn't he, Harry, busy? Hadn't he proved himself capable of handling much more than them? Had they all forgotten what he had done? Hadn't it been he who had entered that graveyard and watched Cedric being murdered, and been tied to that tombstone and nearly killed? Don't think about that , Harry told himself sternly for the hundredth lime that summer It was bad enough that he kept revisiting the graveyard in his nightmares, without dwelling on it in his waking moments too He turned a corner into Magnolia Crescent; halfway along he passed the narrow alleyway down the side of a garage where he had first clapped eyes on his godfather Sirius, at least, seemed to understand how Harry was feeling Admittedly, his letters were just as empty of proper news as Ron and Hermione's, but at least they contained words of caution and consolation instead of tantalising hints: I know this must be frustrating for you… Keep your nose clean and everything will be OK… Be careful and don't anything rash… Well, thought Harry, as he crossed Magnolia Crescent, turned into Magnolia Road and headed towards the darkening play park, he had (by and large) done as Sirius advised He had at least resisted the temptation to tie his trunk to his broomstick and set off for The Burrow by himself In fact, Harry thought his behaviour had been very good considering how frustrated and angry he felt at being stuck in Privet Drive so long, reduced to hiding in flowerbeds in the hope of hearing something that might point to what Lord Voldemort was doing Nevertheless, it was quite galling to be told not to be rash by a man who had served twelve years in the wizard prison, Azkaban, escaped, attempted to commit the murder he had been convicted for in the first place, then gone on the run with a stolen Hippogriff Harry vaulted over the locked park gate and set off across the parched grass The park was as empty as the surrounding streets When he reached the swings he sank on to the only one that Dudley and his friends had not yet managed to break, coiled one arm around the chain and stared moodily at the ground He would not be able to hide in the Dursleys' flowerbed again Tomorrow, he would have to think of some fresh way of listening to the news In the meantime, he had nothing to look forward to but another restless, disturbed night, because even when he escaped the nightmares about Cedric he had unsettling dreams about long dark corridors, all finishing in dead ends and locked doors, which he supposed had something to with the trapped feeling he had when he was awake Often the old scar on his forehead prickled uncomfortably, but he did not fool himself that Ron or Hermione or Sirius would find that very interesting any more In the past, his scar hurting had warned that Voldemort was getting stronger again, but now that Voldemort was back they would probably remind him that its regular irritation was only to be expected… nothing to worry about… old news… The injustice of it all welled up inside him so that he wanted to yell with fury If it hadn't been for him, nobody would even have known Voldemort was back! And his reward was to be stuck in Little Whinging for four solid weeks, completely cut off from the magical world, reduced to squatting among dying begonias so that he could hear about waterskiing budgerigars! How could Dumbledore have forgotten him so easily? Why had Ron and Hermione got together without inviting him along, too? How much longer was he supposed to endure Sirius telling him to sit tight and be a good boy; or resist the temptation to write to the stupid Daily Prophet and point out that Voldemort had returned? These furious thoughts whirled around in Harry's head, and his insides writhed with anger as a sultry, velvety night fell around him, the air full of the smell of warm, dry grass, and the only sound that of the low grumble of traffic on the road beyond the park railings He did not know how long he had sat on the swing before the sound of voices interrupted his musings and he looked up The streetlamps from the surrounding roads were casting a misty glow strong enough to silhouette a group of people making their way across the park One of them was singing a loud, crude song The others were laughing A soft ticking noise came from several expensive racing bikes that they were wheeling along Harry knew who those people were The figure in front was unmistakeably his cousin, Dudley Dursley, wending his way home, accompanied by his faithful gang Dudley was as vast as ever, but a year's hard dieting and the discovery of a new talent had wrought quite a change in his physique As Uncle Vernon delightedly told anyone who would listen, Dudley had recently become the Junior Heavyweight Inter-School Boxing Champion of the Southeast The noble sport', as Uncle Vernon called it, had made Dudley even more formidable than he had seemed to Harry in their primary school days when he had served as Dudley's first punchball Harry was not remotely afraid of his cousin any more but he still didn't think that Dudley learning to punch harder and more accurately was cause for celebration Neighbourhood children all around were terrified of him - even more terrified than they were of 'that Potter boy' who, they had been warned, was a hardened hooligan and attended St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys Harry watched the dark figures crossing the grass and wondered who they had been beating up tonight Look round, Harry found himself thinking as he watched them Come on… look round… I'm sitting here all alone… come and have a go… If Dudley's friends saw him sitting here, they would be sure to make a beeline for him, and what would Dudley then? He wouldn't want to lose face in front of the gang, but he'd be terrified of provoking Harry… it would be really fun to watch Dudley's dilemma, to taunt him, watch him, with him powerless to respond… and if any of the others tried hitting Harry, he was ready - he had his wand Let them try… he'd love to vent some of his frustration on the boys who had once made his life hell But they didn't turn around, they didn't see him, they were almost at the railings Harry mastered the impulse to call after them… seeking a fight was not a smart move… he must not use magic… he would be risking expulsion again The voices of Dudley's gang died away; they were out of sight, heading along Magnolia Road There you go, Sirius, Harry thought dully Nothing rash Kept my nose clean Exactly the opposite of what you'd have done He got to his feet and stretched Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon seemed to feel that whenever Dudley turned up was the right time to be home, and any time after that was much too late Uncle Vernon had threatened to lock Harry in the shed if he came home after Dudley ever again, so, stifling a yawn, and still scowling, Harry set off towards the park gate Magnolia Road, like Privet Drive, was full of large, square houses with perfectly manicured lawns, all owned by large, square owners who drove very clean cars similar to Uncle Vernon's Harry preferred Little Whinging by night, when the curtained windows made patches of jewel-bright colour in the darkness and he ran no danger of hearing disapproving mutters about his 'delinquent' appearance when he passed the householders He walked quickly, so that halfway along Magnolia Road Dudley's gang came into view again; they were saying their farewells at the entrance to Magnolia Crescent Harry stepped into the shadow of a large lilac tree and waited '… squealed like a pig, didn't he?' Malcolm was saying, to guffaws from the others 'Nice right hook, Big D,' said Piers 'Same time tomorrow?' said Dudley 'Round at my place, my parents will be out,' said Gordon 'See you then,' said Dudley square mirror. It looked old; it was certainly dirty. Harry held it up to h is face  and saw his own reflection looking back at him  He turned the mirror over. There on the reverse side was a scribbled  note from  Sirius.    This  is  a  two‐way  mirror,  Iʹve  got  the  other  one  of  the  pair.  If  you  need  to  speak  to  me,  just  say  my  name  into  it;  youʹll  appear  in  my  mirror  and  Iʹll  be  able  to  talk  in  yours.  James  and  I  used  to  use them when we were in separate detentions.  Harryʹs heart began to race. He remembered seeing his dead parent s  in  the  Mirror of Erised four years ago. He was going to be able to talk to Sir ius again,  right now, he knew it ‐  He  looked around to make sure there was nobody else there; the dormit ory  was  quite empty. He looked back at the mirror, raised it in front of his face  with  trembling hands and said, loudly and clearly, ʹSirius.ʹ  His  breath misted the surface of the glass. He held the mirror even clos er,  excitement flooding through him, but the eyes blinking back at him th rough the  fog were definitely his own.  He wiped the mirror clear again and said, so that every syllable rang  clearly  through the room:  ʹSirius Black!ʹ  Nothing happened. The frustrated face looking back out of the mirror  was still,  definitely, his own…  Sirius didnʹt have his mirror on him when he went through the archw ay, said a  small voice in Harryʹs head. Thatʹs why itʹs not working…  Harry  remained quite still for a moment, then hurled the mirror back into th e  trunk where it shattered. He had been convinced, for a whole, shinin g minute,  that he was going to see Sirius, talk to him again…  Disappointment was burning in his throat; he got up and began throw ing his  things pell‐mell into the trunk on top of the broken mirror ‐  But  then an idea struck him… a better idea than a mirror… a much bigg er,  more  important  idea…  how  had  he  never  thought  of  it  before  ‐  why had he never  asked?  He  was sprinting out of the dormitorʹt and down the spiral    THE SECOND WAR BEGINS      staircase. hitting the walls as he ran and barely noticing; he hurtled a cross  the  empty common room, through the portrait hole and off along the corri dor,  ignoring the Fat Lady, who called after him: `The feast is about to sta rt, you  know, youʹre cutting it very fine!ʹ  But Harry had no intention of going to the feast…  How could it be that the place was full of ghosts whenever you didnʹt  need one,  yet now…  He  ran down staircases and along corridors and met nobody either aliv e  or  dead.  They were all, clearly, in the Great Hall. Outside his Charms classroo m  he  came  to a halt, panting and thinking disconsolately that he would have to w ait until  later, until after the end of the feast…  But  just  as  he  had  given  up  hope,  he  saw  it  ‐  a translucent somebody drifting  across the end of the corridor.  `Hey ‐ hey Nick! NICK!ʹ  The ghost stuck its head back out of the wall, revealing the extravag antly  plumed  hat  and  dangerously  wobbling  head  of  Sir  Nicholas  de  Mimsy‐ Porpington.  `Good  evening,ʹ he said, withdrawing the rest of his body from the solid sto ne  and smiling at Harry `I am not the only one who is late, then? Thoug h,ʹ he  sighed, `in a rather different sense, of course…  `Nick, can I ask you something?ʹ  A  most peculiar expression stole over Nearly Headless Nickʹs face as  he  inserted  a finger in the stiff ruff at his neck and tugged it a little straighter, app arently  to  give himself thinking time. He desisted only when his partially severe d neck  seemed about to give way completely.  `Er  ‐  now,  Harry? ʹ said Nick, looking discomfited. `Canʹt it wait until after the  feast?T  ʹNo  ‐  Nick  ‐  please,ʹ said Harry, `I really need to talk to you. Can we go in here?ʹ  Harry  opened the door of the nearest classroom and Nearly Headless Nic k  sighed.  `Oh, very well,ʹ he said, looking resigned. `I canʹt pretend I havenʹt be en  expecting it.ʹ  Harry was holding the door open for him, but he drifted through the w all  instead.      `Expecting what?ʹ Harry asked, as he closed the door.  `You  to come and find me,ʹ said Nick, now gliding over to the window and   looking out at the darkening grounds. `It happens, sometimes… whe n somebody  has suffered a… loss.ʹ  `Well,ʹ  said  Harry,  refusing  to  be  deflected.  `You  were  right,  Iʹve  ‐  Iʹve come to  find you.ʹ  Nick said nothing.  `Itʹs  ‐ ʹsaid Harry, who was finding this more awkward than he had anticipat ed,  `itʹs just ‐ youʹre dead. But youʹre still here, arenʹt you?ʹ  Nick sighed and continued to gaze out at the grounds.  `Thatʹs  right,  isnʹt  it? ʹ  Harry  urged  him.  `You  died,  but  Iʹm  talking  to  you…you  can walk around Hogwarts and everything, canʹt you?ʹ  ʹYes,ʹ said Nearly Headless Nick quietly, `I walk and talk, yes.ʹ  `So,   you  came  back,  didnʹt  you? ʹ  said  Harry  urgently.  `People  can  come  back,  right?  As  ghosts.  They  donʹt  have  to  disappear  completely.  Well? ʹ he added  impatiently, when Nick continued to say nothing.  Nearly Headless Nick hesitated, then said, `Not everyone can come  back as a  ghost.ʹ  `What dʹyou mean?ʹ said Harry quickly  `Only… only wizards.ʹ  `Oh,ʹ said Harry, and he almost laughed with relief. `Well, thatʹs OK t hen,  the  person  Iʹm  asking  about  is a  wizard.  So he can come  back,  right?ʹ  Nick turned away from the window and looked mournfully at Harry.  `He  wonʹt come back.ʹ  `Who?ʹ  `Sinus Black,ʹ said Nick.  `But  you  did!ʹ  said  Harry  angrily.  `You  came  back  ‐ youʹre dead and you didnʹt  disappear ‐ʹ  `Wizards   can  leave  an  imprint  of  themselves  upon  the  earth,  to  walk  palely  where their living selves once trod,ʹ said Nick miserably. `But very fe w wizards  choose that path.ʹ `Why  not?ʹ  said  Harry.  `Anyway  ‐  it  doesnʹt  matter  ‐  Sirius wonʹt care if itʹs  unusual, heʹll come back, I know he will!ʹ  And  so strong was his belief, Harry actually turned his head to check the  door,  sure,  for  a  split  second,  that  he  was  going  to  see  Sirius,  pearly‐ white and  transparent but beaming, walking through it towards him.  `He will not come back,ʹ repeated Nick. `He will have… gone on.ʹ  `What   dʹyou  mean,  ʺgone  onʺ? ʹ  said  Harry  quickly  `Gone  on  where?  Listen  ‐  what happens when you die, anyway? Where do you go? Why does nʹt everyone  come back? Why isnʹt this place full of ghosts? Why ‐? T  ʹI cannot answer,ʹ said Nick.  `Youʹre  dead,  arenʹt  you? ʹ said Harry exasperatedly. `Who can answer better than  you?T  ʹ I was afraid of death,ʹ said Nick softly. `I chose to remain behind. I so metimes  wonder whether I oughtnʹt to have… well, that is neither here nor the re…  in  fact,  I  am  neither  here  nor  there… ʹ  He  gave  a  small  sad  chuckle.  `I  know  nothing  of  the secrets of death, Harry, for I chose my feeble imitation of life W st ead.  I  believe learned wizards study the matter in the Department of Myster ies ‐ʹ  `Donʹt talk to me about that place!ʹ said Harry fiercely.  `I  am sorry not to have been more help,ʹ said Nick gently `Well… well,  do excuse  me… the feast, you know…ʹ  And he left the room, leaving Harry there alone, gazing blankly at the  wall  through which Nick had disappeared.  Harry  felt almost as though he had lost his godfather all over again in losin g  the  hope that he might be able to see or speak to him once more. He wa lked  slowly  and miserably back up through the empty castle, wondering whether  he would  ever feel cheerful again.  He  had turned the corner towards the Fat Ladyʹs corridor when he saw  somebody up ahead fastening a note to a board on the wall. A secon d  glance  showed him it was Luna. There were no good hiding places nearby,  she  was  bound to have heard his footsteps, and in any case, Harry could har dly muster  the energy to avoid anyone at the moment.  `Hello,ʹ said Luna vaguely, glancing around at him as she stepped ba ck from the  notice.          `How come youʹre not at the feast?ʹ Harry asked.  `Well,  Iʹve lost most of my possessions,ʹ said Luna serenely. ʹPeople take t hem  and hide them, you know. But as itʹs the last night, I really do need th em back, so  Iʹve been putting up signs.ʹ  She gestured towards the noticeboard, upon which, sure enough, sh e  had  pinned  a list of all her missing books and clothes, with a plea for their return   An  odd feeling rose in Harry; an emotion quite different from the anger  and  grief  that had filled him since Siriusʹs death. It was a few moments before  he realised  that he was feeling sorry for Luna.  `How come people hide your stuff?ʹ he asked her, frowning.  `Oh…  well… ʹ  she  shrugged.  `I  think  they  think  Iʹm  a  bit  odd,  you  know.  Some  people call me ʺLoonyʺ Lovegood, actually.ʹ  Harry  looked at her and the new feeling of pity intensified rather painfully.  `Thatʹs no reason for them to take your things,ʹ he said flatly. Dʹyou w ant help  finding them?ʹ  ʹOh, no,ʹ she said, smiling at him. `Theyʹll come back, they always do   in  the  end.  It was just that I wanted to pack tonight. Anyway… why arenʹt you at  the feast?ʹ  Harry shrugged. Just didnʹt feel like it.ʹ  `No, ʹ said Luna, observing him with those oddly misty, protuberant eyes. ` I  donʹt  suppose you do. That man the Death Eaters killed was your godfath er, wasnʹt  he? Ginny told me.ʹ  Harry nodded curtly, but found that for some reason he did not mind  Luna  talking about Sirius. He had just remembered that she, too, could se e Thestrals.  `Have  you… ʹ he began. `I mean, who… has anyone you known ever died?ʹ  `Yes, ʹ said Luna simply, `my mother. She was a quite extraordinary witch,  you  know, but she did like to experiment and one of her spells went rathe r badly  wrong one day. I was nine.ʹ  `Iʹm sorryʹ Harry mumbled.  ʹ Yes, it was rather horrible,ʹ said Luna conversationally. `I still feel ver y  sad  about  it sometimes. But Iʹve still got Dad. And anyway, itʹs not as though Iʹll  never see  Mum again, is it?ʹ            `Er ‐ isnʹt it?ʹ said Harry uncertainly.  She shook her head in disbelief.  `Oh,  come  on.  You  heard  them,  just  behind  the  veil,  didnʹt  you?ʹ  `You mean…ʹ  `In that room with the archway. They were just lurking out of sight, th atʹs all.  You  heard them.ʹ  They looked at each other. Luna was smiling slightly. Harry did not k now  what  to say, or to think; Luna believed so many extraordinary things… yet  he had  been sure he had heard voices behind the veil, too.  `Are  you  sure  you  donʹt  want  me  to  help  you  look  for  your  stuff? ʹ he said.  `Oh,  no,ʹ said Luna. `No, I think Iʹll just go down and have some pudding  and  wait for it all to turn up… it always does in the end… well, have a nic e holiday  Harryʹ  `Yeah… yeah, you too.ʹ  She walked away from him and, as he watched her go, he found that   the  terrible  weight  in  his  stomach‐  seemed to have lessened slightly.  The  journey home on the Hogwarts Express next day was eventful in se veral  ways. Firstly Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, who had clearly been waitin g  all  week  for the opportunity to strike without teacher witnesses, attempted to a mbush  Harry halfway down the train as he made his way back from the toilet   The  attack might have succeeded had it not been for the fact that they un wittingly  chose to stage the attack right outside a compartment full of DA me mbers,  who  saw what was happening through the glass and rose as one to rush t o  Harryʹs  aid. By the time Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Just in  Finch‐ Fletchley Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot had finished using a wid e  variety  of  the hexes and jinxes Harry had taught them, Malfoy Crabbe and Goy le  resembled nothing so much as three gigantic slugs squeezed into H ogwarts  uniform as Harry, Ernie and Justin hoisted them into the luggage rac k and left  them there to ooze.  `I must say, Iʹm looking forward to seeing Malfoyʹs motherʹs face whe n he gets  off the train,ʹ said Ernie, with some satisfaction, as  he  watched Malloy squirm above him. Ernie had never quite got over th e  indignity of Malloy docking points from Hufflepuff during his brief spel l as a  member of the Inquisitorial Squad.  `Goyle ʹs  mumʹll  be  really  pleased,  though,ʹ  said  Ron,  who  had  come  to  investigate the source of the commotion. `Heʹs loads betterlooking n ow…  anyway, Harry, the food trolleyʹs just stopped if you want anything…ʹ  Harry thanked the others and accompanied Ron back to their compa rtment,  where he bought a large pile of cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties   Hermione  was reading the Daily Prophet again, Ginny was doing a quiz in The  Quibbler  and  Neville was stroking his Mimbulus mimbletonia, which had grown a g reat  deal  over the year and now made odd crooning noises when touched.  Harry  and Ron whiled away most of the journey playing wizard chess whil e  Hermione read out snippets from the Prophet. It was now full of articl es  about  how to repel Dementors, attempts by the Ministry to track down Deat h  Eaters  and hysterical letters claiming that the writer had seen Lord Voldemo rt walking  past their house that very morning…  `It hasnʹt really started yet,ʹ sighed Hermione gloomily, folding up the  newspaper again. `But it wonʹt be long now…ʹ  `Hey, Harryʹ said Ron softly, nodding towards the glass window on to  the  corridor.  Harry  looked around. Cho was passing, accompanied by Marietta Edgeco mbe,  who was wearing a balaclava. His and Choʹs eyes met for a moment   Cho  blushed and kept walking. Harry looked back down at the chessboar d  just  in  time to see one of his pawns chased off its square by Ronʹs knight.  `Whatʹs  ‐  er  ‐  going  on  with  you  and  her,  anyway? ʹ Ron asked quietly  `Nothing,ʹ said Harry truthfully.  `I  ‐  er  ‐  heard sheʹs going out with someone else now,ʹ said Hermione tentat ively.  Harry  was surprised to find that this information did not hurt at all. Wanting   to  impress Cho seemed to belong to a past that was no longer quite co nnected  with  him; so much of what he had wanted before Sinusʹ,ʹ death felt that «° av these  days… the week  that  had elapsed since he had last seen Sirius seemed to have lasted m uch,  much  longer; it stretched across two universes, the one with Sirius in it, an d the one  without.  `Youʹre well out of it, mate,ʹ said Ron forcefully. `I mean, sheʹs quite g ood‐ looking and all that, but you want someone a bit more cheerful.ʹ  `Sheʹs probably cheerful enough with someone else,ʹ said Harry, shr ugging.  `Whoʹs  she  with  now,  anyway? ʹ Ron asked Hermione, but it was Ginny who  answered.  `Michael Corner,ʹ she said.  `Michael  ‐  but = maid Ron, craning around in his seat to stare at her. `But you  were going out with him!ʹ  `Not   any  more,ʹ  said  Ginny  resolutely.  `He  didnʹt  like  Gryffindor  beating  Ravenclaw at Quidditch, and got really sulky, so I ditched him and he   ran  off  to  comfort Cho instead.ʹ She scratched her nose absently with the end  of  her  quill,  turned The Quibbler upsidedown and began marking her answers. R on looked  highly delighted.  `Well,  I always thought he was a bit of an idiot,ʹ he said, prodding his quee n  forwards towards Harryʹs quivering castle. `Good for you. Just choos e someone ‐  better ‐ next time.ʹ  He cast Harry an oddly furtive look as he said it.  `Well,  Iʹve  chosen  Dean  Thomas,  would  you  say  heʹs  better? ʹ asked Ginny  vaguely.  WHAT? ʹ shouted Ron, upending the chessboard: Crookshanks went plungin g  after the pieces and Hedwig and Pigwidgeon twittered and hooted an grily from  overhead.  As  the train slowed down in the approach to Kingʹs Cross, Harry though t  he  had  never wanted to leave it less. He even wondered fleetingly what woul d  happen  if  he simply refused to get off, but remained stubbornly sitting there unt il  the  first  of September, when it would take him back to Hogwarts. When it fina lly  puffed  to a standstill, however, he lifted down Hedwigʹs cage and prepared t o drag his  trunk from the train as usual.  When  the ticket inspector signalled to Harry, Ron and Hermione that it was   safe  to walk through the magical barrier between platforms nine and ten,  however, he  found a surprise awaiting him on  the other side: a group of people standing there to greet him who he  had not  expected at all.  There   was  Mad‐ Eye  Moody,  looking  quite  as  sinister  with  his  bowler  hat  pulled  low over his magical eye as he would have done without it, his gnarl ed  hands  clutching a long staff, his body wrapped in a voluminous travelling cl oak.  Tonks  stood  just  behind  him,  her  bright  bubble‐gum‐ pink  hair  gleaming  in  the  sunlight  filtering through the dirty glass of the station ceiling, wearing heavily  patched  jeans  and  a  bright  purple  T‐ shirt  bearing  the  legend  The  Weird  Sisters.  Next  to  Tonks was Lupin, his face pale, his hair greying, a long and threadba re  overcoat  covering a shabby jumper and trousers. At the front of the group stoo d  Mr  and  Mrs Weasley, dressed in their Muggle best, and Fred and George, w ho  were  both  wearing  brand‐ new jackets in some lurid green, scaly material.  ʹRon,  Ginny! ʹ  called  Mrs  Weasley,  hurrying  forwards  and  hugging  her  children  tightly `Oh, and Harry dear ‐ how are you?T  ʹFine,ʹ lied Harry, as she pulled him into a tight embrace. Over her sh oulder he  saw Ron goggling at the twinsʹ new clothes.  `What are they supposed to be?ʹ he asked, pointing at the jackets.  `Finest dragonskin, little broʹ,ʹ said Fred, giving his zip a little tweak. ` Business is  booming and we thought weʹd treat ourselves.ʹ  `Hello, Harryʹ said Lupin, as Mrs Weasley let go of Harry and turned t o greet  Hermione.  `Hi,ʹ said Harry `I didnʹt expect … what are you all doing here?T  ʹWell,ʹ said Lupin with a slight smile, `we thought we might have a littl e chat  with your aunt and uncle before letting them take you home.ʹ  `I dunno if thatʹs a good idea,ʹ said Harry at once.  `Oh, I think it is,ʹ growled Moody, who had limped a little closer. Thatʹl l be them,  will it, Potter?ʹ  He  pointed with his thumb over his shoulder; his magical eye was evide ntly  peering through the back of his head and his bowler hat. Harry leane d  an  inch  or  so  to  the  left  to  see  where  Mad‐ Eye  was  pointing  and  there,  sure  enough,  were  the three Dursleys, who looked positively appalled to see Harryʹs rec eption  committee.  `Ah, Harryʹ said Mr Weasley, turning from Hermioneʹs parents,  who he had just greeted enthusiastically, and who were now taking it  in turns to  hug Hermione. `Well ‐ shall we do it, then?T  ʹYeah, I reckon so, Arthur,ʹ said Moody.  He  and Mr Weasley took the lead across the station towards the Dursle ys,  who  were apparently rooted to the floor. Hermione disengaged herself ge ntly from  her mother to join the group.  `Good afternoon,ʹ said Mr Weasley pleasantly to Uncle Vernon as he   came  to  a  halt right in front of him. `You might remember me, my nameʹs Arthur  Weasleyʹ  As   Mr  Weasley  had  single‐ handedly  demolished  most  of  the  Dursleysʹ  living  room two years previously, Harry would have been very surprised if  Uncle  Vernon had forgotten him. Sure enough, Uncle Vernon turned a deep er  shade  of  puce and glared at Mr Weasley, but chose not to say anything, partly,   perhaps,  because the Dursleys were outnumbered two to one. Aunt Petunia lo oked  both  frightened and embarrassed; she kept glancing around, as though te rrified  somebody she knew would see her in such company. Dudley, mean while,  seemed to be trying to look small and insignificant, a feat at which he  was failing  extravagantly.  `We thought weʹd just have a few words with you about Harry, said M r Weasley,  still smiling.  `Yeah,ʹ growled Moody. `About how heʹs treated when heʹs at your pl ace.ʹ  Uncle  Vernonʹs moustache seemed to bristle with indignation. Possibly be cause  the bowler hat gave him the entirely mistaken impression that he wa s dealing  with a kindred spirit, he addressed himself to Moody.  `I am not aware that it is any of your business what goes on in my ho use ‐  `I expect what youʹre not aware of would fill several books, Dursley,ʹ  growled  Moody   `Anyway, thatʹs not the point,ʹ interjected Tonks, whose pink hair see med  to  offend Aunt Petunia more than all the rest put together, for she close d  her  eyes  rather than look at her. `The point is, if we find out youʹve been horrib le to Harry  =  `‐ And make no mistake, weʹll hear about it,ʹ added Lupin pleasantly.  `Yes,ʹ said Mr Weasley, `even if you wonʹt let Harry use the fellytone  =  `Telephone,ʹ whispered Hermione.  `‐  Yeah, if we get any hint that Potterʹs been mistreated in any way, yo uʹll have  us to answer to,ʹ said Moody.  Uncle Vernon swelled ominously. His sense of outrage seemed to ou tweigh even  his fear of this bunch of oddballs.  `Are  you  threatening  me,  sir?ʹ  he  said,  so  loudly  that  passers‐ by actually turned  to stare.  `Yes,  I  am,ʹ  said  Mad‐ Eye,  who  seemed  rather  pleased  that  Uncle  Vernon  had  grasped this fact so quickly.  `And  do  I  look  like  the  kind  of  man  who  can  be  intimidated? ʹ barked Uncle  Vernon.  `Well… ʹ  said  Moody,  pushing  back  his  bowler  hat  to  reveal  his  sinisterly  revolving magical eye. Uncle Vernon leapt backwards in horror and c ollided  painfully with a luggage trolley. `Yes, Iʹd have to say you do, Dursleyʹ  He turned away from Uncle Vernon to survey Harry.  `So, Potter… give us a shout if you need us. If we donʹt hear from yo u for three  days in a row, weʹll send someone along…ʹ  Aunt  Petunia whimpered piteously. It could not have been plainer that she   was  thinking of what the neighbours would say if theʹt caught sight of thes e people  marching up the garden path.  `Bye, then, Potter,ʹ said Moody, grasping Harryʹs shoulder for a mom ent with a  gnarled hand.  `Take care, Harry,ʹ said Lupin quietly. `Keep in touch.ʹ  `Harry, weʹll have you away from there as soon as we can,ʹ Mrs Wea sley  whispered, hugging him again.  `Weʹll see you soon, mate,ʹ said Ron anxiously, shaking Harryʹs hand   `Really soon, Harryʹ said Hermione earnestly. `We promise.ʹ  Harry  nodded. He somehow could not find words to tell them what it mean t  to  him, to see them all ranged there, on his side. Instead, he smiled, rai sed  a  hand  in  farewell, turned around and led the way out of the station towards th e  sunlit  street, with Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley hurrying along in  his wake.  ... break ranks for anything, got me? If one of us is killed ''Is that likely?'' Harry asked apprehensively, but Moody ignored him - the others keep flying, don''t stop, don''t break ranks If they take... ''What they DO?'' ''I told you - they suck all the happiness out of you,'' said Harry, ''and if they get the chance, they kiss you - ''Kiss you?'' said Uncle Vernon, his eyes popping slightly ''Kiss you?''... all the answers he got Otherwise, the Dursleys kept well clear of his bedroom Harry couldn''t see the point of forcing his company on them; another row would achieve nothing except perhaps make