水到10000啊！

现在水区帖子居然没有显卡去多……

无奖品，自愿盖楼啊！


可以笑话 贴图 纯水

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

靠 沙发都不留给别人/-56

看来是想蝉联水王的称号了

xkm1948不会是水猴子一手栽培出来的吧？

/-95 /-95 /-95 /-95 /-95 /-95 /-95 /-95 /-95 /-95 /-95 /-95

刚才我看到jhj同志在人员在线列表里哈，多好的同志亚，可惜在潜水

潜水不好听！应该叫“遁地”/-95

lalalalalallaallalalalalala.


I'll be there for you!

You like life of DOA(Dead on Arrival)

It likes you always stuck in second year!

Where The rain starts to fall

Like we have been there before

Because you'll be there for me,too

它其实只是一部室内情景喜剧，六个成天无所事事(起码在戏里是如此)的年轻人在大得有些离谱的曼哈顿公寓里、咖啡馆里闲聊、逗趣、相互帮助、发生恋情、产生误会、终成眷属……他们打发时间的时候你也打发时间，跟着他们傻笑，跟着他们成长……
用不了多久，你就能唱菲比那首著名的《臭臭猫》(Smelly Cat)、会像乔伊一样怪声怪调地跟女孩子搭讪：“你怎么样?(How’re you doin，?)”、会像莫尼卡一样为沙发上的一点墨水而抓狂、会像罗斯一样同情人吵架：“我们当时分手了! (We were on a break!)”、会像钱德勒一样神经质地跳来跳去乱开玩笑、会像瑞秋一样越来越美(我也希望啊!)，甚至，你还会像简尼丝那样：绵羊咩咩叫般狂笑、大叫：“呕一上一帝! (Oh-My-God!)”……
总之，用不了多久，你就成了一个不折不扣的“老友迷”，《老友记》你肯定会一集不落地看下去，六个好朋友也渐渐地变成了你生活中的一部分(说来真怪，怎么就像打小就认识这几个活宝一样?)。而本书，正是献给所有大把大把时间已经被《老友记》“杀掉”的“老友迷”们。

城市流行新时尚 不可不看《老友记》
尽管我们说，本书献给所有“老友迷”，但这并不代表我们会让所有入门级看客和从来没有听说过《老友记》的同志们掉队。(不过同志们啊，你们怎么能连《老友记》都没听说过呢?过去几年您在哪儿发财?火星?)
正是本着这种治病救人的目的，我们在一开始还是简要介绍—下《老友记》，免得大家看到后来一头雾水。
《老友记》(Friends)，又有人叫它《六人行》，是美国全国广播公司(NBC)从一九九四年开机拍摄的室内情景喜剧，已经播完了八季，目前第九季正在热播。过去九年间这套剧集已经完全超越美国的国界，成为火爆全球的热门剧集，英国、加拿大、以色列、澳大利亚、葡萄牙、法国……都有大批忠实观众每周守在电视机前等着看《老友记》。
这套剧集是从几个老朋友居住的公寓楼下的“中央珀克”(Central Perk)咖啡馆开始的，莫尼卡、乔伊、钱德勒和菲比坐在咖啡馆正中的沙发上聊天，莫尼卡说：“你们知道，只是一个同事……，’随后罗斯登场，他是莫尼卡的哥哥，他的同性恋妻子卡洛尔刚同他离婚，就在罗斯痛苦呻吟说“我只是想要结婚”的时候，莫尼卡和罗斯的中学同学，罗斯暗恋许久的瑞秋登场，身穿一袭婚纱，众人自然大吃一惊，钱德勒甚至学着罗斯的腔调对门外叫道：“我想要一百万美元!”
原来瑞秋是在婚礼上发现自己并不爱未婚夫巴里，于是逃婚了，正好碰到多年前的好友莫尼卡，随着瑞秋同父亲闹翻，她也只好在莫尼卡大得离谱的公寓中住下，六个好朋友的故事正式开场。

六个活宝一台戏 总有一款适合你
看戏主要还看人物，《老友记》的笑话再好也不能没有活色生香的瑞秋、小家子气的罗斯、二百五得可爱的钱德勒、一准儿有强迫症的莫尼卡、傻里傻气的乔伊和古灵精怪的菲比，正如众多老友迷 们熟悉的那句宣传语：“三男三女超级好朋友，坚持自我主张，耍宝第一名，糗事一箩筐……”
没错，就是这三男三女超级好朋友撑起了《老友记》，搞得我们意乱神迷，甚至还为瑞秋到底该和罗斯还是和乔伊好而争得面红耳赤，或者为莫尼卡最终竟然嫁了钱德勒而扼腕叹息……不经意中东方又已发白，又是一晚鏖战，《老友记》存货已快告罄，就只盼着第九季快点面市。
六人中最广受欢迎的是大美女瑞秋，饰演瑞秋的珍妮弗·安尼斯顿的美貌人所共知，连超级大帅哥布拉德·皮特都拜倒在她石榴裙下，安安心心地在家过小日子，我们普通人当然是只有被她电死的份了。
瑞秋在剧集开始时是个被惯坏了的富家女，从小衣食无忧，甚至还有小马(真的马)和小船(可以出海的真船)供她消遣，再加上美色天成，想要什么就有什么，因此从来心无旁骛，养成了傻大姐的性子，完全无法独立生活。

谁对我们影响大 邻居还是《老友记》？
早在几年前，从国外回来的朋友们在谈到国外电视节目时，最常提起的就是《老友记》，听得人心痒痒的。这套剧集也没有让人失望，果然“超级好看”(一个朋友语)，温情浪漫、轻松滑稽。从此，一帮对《老友记》上瘾的朋友们聚在一起“八卦”《老友记》时又多了一个我。
就像饰演菲比的丽莎·库卓说的：“《老友记》有它的影响，它引申出来的潮流总会兴盛一段时间——发型、关于它的网上聊天、对故事和人物的入戏——但影迷们现在并不会去分析它，它的目的是娱乐，人们喜欢在上学上班的时候有东西可聊。”
不过可能不仅仅是聊聊而已，老友迷们可以如数家珍地背出很多台词，甚至很入戏地感叹自己怎么没有这么多好朋友。远在纽约 (其实《老友记》是在洛杉矶搭景拍摄的)的这个并不存在的“六人帮”让你觉得如此的熟悉，对于大多数并不认识隔壁水泥盒子里邻居的都市人而言，《老友记》提供了一种人造的温情，让我们感受眼下近乎奇货可居的友谊。
当然也有人会感到荒谬，《老友记》怎么可能取代我们的社会生活?它的确没有，丽莎·库卓的那段话我并没有全引，她接着就会说：“当然，《老友记》不会取代人们的社会生活。”这也不是一个好的娱乐节目应该做的。《老友记》不仅不会把你从社会中隔离开来，它让你在笑的同时也让你放松了平时处世做人的心态，反而能交到更多的朋友，而且它还给你带来了谈资。(我几个月前碰到一群老友迷时心中就激动万分：“可找到组织了!”)
“找到组织”后的老友迷们自然会聊《老友记》，只要合得来，大家就可以做好朋友，像乔伊和钱德勒，瑞秋和莫尼卡那样“铁”的好朋友。
我问过几个也看《老友记》的朋友，问他们认不认识他们的邻居，结果都是否定的。我们聊《老友记》的故事，学《老友记》里的人物，但可惜的是却没有一个像《老友记》里那样住在隔壁的朋友。
《老友记》看多了，有时候就会做《老友记》的梦，仿佛你真有了这帮朋友，他们就住在你隔壁，你需要的时候一个电话就能把他们挖出来，陪你聊个痛快，而奇怪的是，用英文聊了个痛快。
说到这里，先撇下《老友记》跟友情的话碴不谈，说说我有一个学机械的朋友。此人从来满嘴英文，地道得叫人很受打击，因为你的语速(有时候大脑)从来就跟不上他，有时候听他讲英文讲得我迷糊了的时候我就会问自己：“难道我的英文都白学了?”可看过《老友记》之后，我的问题迎刃而解：小样!全是钱德勒和罗斯!我们一帮看《老友记》的朋友到现在也都时不时讲讲英文，看戏之余也入一把戏，当然，要是学上了乔伊的那些神态、动作改起来就比满嘴英文费劲得多了。
看起来无关，不过这起码说明了一个问题，看《老友记》还能长英文“段位”。而且剧中涉及的西方和美国文化内涵丰富，要能在笑之外看出点东东来的看客想必都是些大虾，而英文一般牛的观众也能长不少见识，练不少英文。(想想，前八季就有小两百集，这六个死党坐在那儿也不干别的，就用英文侃来着。)
话再讲回来，说实话，我不认识隔壁的邻居，他们装修时候那个吵，我也不想认识他们，我宁愿窝在家里看《老友记》，上聊天室跟人侃《老友记》。先别说我小气，莫尼卡他们不也跟楼下的海克尔先生合不来吗?
跟邻居不亲近其实也不是我的错，谁让我住的这个小水泥盒子那么冷冰冰，让人没了跟邻居建立伟大友谊的兴致，要都像莫尼卡那房子，还有人家那走廊，谁能打包票我不跟对过熟的跟莫尼卡和钱德勒一样呢？

《I'll Be There For You》

Written by Michael Skloff
Lyrics by Allee Willis
So no one told you life was gonna be this way [four claps]
Your job's a joke, you're broke, your love life's D.O.A*.
It's like you're always stuck in second gear
When it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year
CHORUS:
but I'll be there for you
(When the rain starts to pour)
I'll be there for you
(Like I've been there before)
I'll be there for you
('Cause you're there for me too )
Then, the extended version continues with:
You're still in bed at ten and work began at eight
You've burned your breakfast; so far , things are going great
Your mother warned you there'd be days like these
But she didn't tell when the world has brought you down to your knees
CHORUS:
but I'll be there for you
(When the rain starts to pour)
I'll be there for you
(Like I've been there before )
I'll be there for you
('Cause you're there for me too )
BRIDGE:
No one could ever know me, no one could ever see me
Seems you're the only one who knows what it's like to be me
Someone to face the day with, make it through all the rest with
Someone I'll always laugh with
Even at my worst, I'm best with you
Yeah!
It's like you're always stuck in second gear
When it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year, but
CHORUS:
but I'U be there for you
(When the rain starts to pour)
I'll be there for you
(Like I've been there before)
I'll be there for you
('Cause you're there for me too)
*D．O．A．：dead on arrival

1．分手阶段
第三季第十五集中，罗斯和瑞秋因为罗斯的小心眼大吵一场，瑞秋宣布两人暂时分手(Take A Break)，悲伤中的罗斯在寻找慰籍的过程中不慎和“复印西施(Copy Girl)”上了床。第二天瑞秋又和他和好了，最后瑞秋发现了他的不忠。从此，“我们在分手之中(We're on a break．)”就成为了《老友记》的经典名句。此后几季中，时不常地就可以听到这句对白。罗斯的小心眼体现在始终抠字眼，强调他的不忠是有原因的，而不知道承认自己的错误，退一步海阔天空，以此换来瑞秋的感情。甚至在第四季一开头他俩一度和好的情况下，也因为罗斯不肯在这个问题上让步而导致关系再度破裂。

2．胎教争夺战
第一季第九集中，罗斯发现前妻卡罗尔的同性恋伙伴苏珊在给孩子进行胎教，惊恐万分，于是他也要求胎教时间，还在卡罗尔隆起的肚子面前唱歌，以此在未出生的孩子前争宠。在以后的几集中，他还坚持要和苏珊一起出席生育锻炼课。即使在卡罗尔临盆之际，他还不忘和苏珊争吵。

3．办公室跟踪
第三季第十一集中，瑞秋在一个叫马克的英俊小伙帮助下找到了新的工作。从此，不安宁的罗斯就开始了嫉妒的煎熬。他给办公室打电话，给瑞秋的办公室送来很多礼物，请人去唱歌，试图表明自己的存在，用瑞秋的话说“就像狗狗在划定自己的界线”。罗斯甚至直接冲到办公室里干扰瑞秋的工作，最后终于导致两人分手，瑞秋还投入了马克的怀抱。

4．进化论疑云
在第二季第三集里，菲比表示了对进化论的怀疑，这让学术上气量很小的罗斯简直受不了。他试图拿出各种所谓的证据来说服菲比，但菲比不仅没有被说服，还以雄辩的口才逼迫得罗斯承认进化论确实有可能是错的。菲比接着落井下石，指出：原来至少我还尊敬你，因为你能坚持你的观点，现在你居然连自己的观点都不能坚持了，明天你怎么面对自己?罗斯被整得七晕六素。

5．同性恋恐惧
在第四季第十八集中，罗斯的新女友埃米莉和前妻的同性恋伙伴苏珊交上了朋友，身为伦敦人的埃米莉还在伦敦热情招待了前去拍广告的苏珊，两人度过了美好的时光。但这一切对于小心眼的罗斯来说却是一个莫大的折磨：他最最担心的就是苏珊又把埃米莉转变成了同性恋。他的这种小心眼令人厌烦无比，连瑞秋都最后说：“我真希望埃米莉真的是一个同性恋。”

6．我的三明治
第五季第九集中，罗斯放在单位的三明治被人偷吃了，他因此大光其火。最后惹得全博物馆的人都很害怕他的脾气，他也因此被放大假，接受心理治疗。

7．英式橄榄球
第四季第十五集，罗斯和新女友埃米莉在街上碰到了埃米莉的两个英国朋友。为了不被英国朋友小瞧，罗斯答应和他们一起去踢英式橄榄球，试图给埃米莉留下一个硬汉形象。尽管身体快要崩溃了，他仍然不愿下场。

8．互相揭短
在第六季第七集、第七季第四集，几乎每一次老友互相揭短的时候，罗斯总是主角。因为小心眼的他总是睚眦必报，别人一说他—的丑事，他就会报复，钱德勒和莫尼卡都曾被他报复过。

9．百元大钞
第五季第十五集中，罗斯搬到了莫尼卡公寓对面的公寓。他才刚第一天入住，业主委员会就要求他交一百块钱，好给一个退休的管理人员开欢送会。虽然这个要求确实有一点无理，但小气的罗斯确实是不会愿意支付这笔钱的，他宁愿花更多的钱组织一个自己的派对，试图来维护自己的原则。最终，当然罗斯又失败了。

10．饭店退房
第八季第二集，瑞秋揭露罗斯从来不在宾馆房间结账时间到期之前退房，钱德勒到罗斯的屋里还发现罗斯在收集宾馆里的各种卫生纸之类的东西。这个细节鲜明地反映了罗斯的小气鬼特点。

[返回目录]



·扫描整理 by thrash

不厚道！/-44

- CHAPTER THREE -
The Advance Guard
I've just been attacked by Dementors and I might be expelled from llogwarts. I want to know what's going on and when I'm going to get out of here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Get going, then,' said Harry.

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

'We're going out,' he said.

'Sorry?'

'We - that is to say, your aunt, Dudley and I - are going out.'

'Fine,' said Harry dully, looking back at the ceiling.

'You are not to leave your bedroom while we are away.'

'OK.'

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

'Right.'

'You are not to steal food from the fridge.'

'OK.'

'I am going to lock your door.'

'You do that.'

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

Harry had no particular feeling about the Dursleys leaving. It made no difference to him whether they were in the house or not. He could not even summon the energy to get up and turn on his bedroom light. The room grew steadily darker around him as he lay listening to the night sounds through the window he kept open all the time, waiting for the blessed moment when Hedwig returned. The empty house creaked around him. The pipes gurgled. Harry lay there in a kind of stupor, thinking of nothing, suspended in misery.

Then, quite distinctly, he heard a crash in the kitchen below. He sat bolt upright, listening intently. The Dursleys couldn't be back, it was much too soon, and in any case he hadn't heard their car.

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

He snatched up his wand from the bedside table and stood facing his bedroom door, listening with all his might. Next moment, he jumped as the lock gave a loud click and his door swung open. Harry stood motionless, staring through the open doorway at the dark upstairs landing, straining his ears for further sounds, but none came. He hesitated for a moment, then moved swiftly and silently out of his room to the head of the stairs.

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

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

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

'Professor Moody?' he said uncertainly.

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

Harry lowered his wand slightly but did not relax his grip on it, nor did he move. He had very good reason to be suspicious. He had recently spent nine months in what he had thought was Mad-Eye Moody's company only to find out that it wasn't Moody at all, but an impostor; an impostor, moreover, who had tried to kill Harry before being unmasked. But before he could make a decision about what to do next, a second, slightly hoarse voice floated upstairs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mad-Eye Moody, who had long grizzled grey hair and a large chunk missing from his nose, was squinting suspiciously at Harry through his mismatched eyes. One eye was small, dark and beady, the other large, round and electric blue - the magical eye that could see through walls, doors and the back of Moody's own head. 'Are you quite sure it's him, Lupin?' he growled. 'It'd be a nice lookout if we bring back some Death Eater impersonating him. We ought to ask him something only the real Potter would know. Unless anyone brought any Veritaserum?'

'Harry, what form does your Patronus take?' Lupin asked. 'A stag,' said Harry nervously. That's him, Mad-Eye,' said Lupin.

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

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

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

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

Lupin held out his hand and shook Harry's. 'How are you?' he asked, looking closely at Harry. T-fine…'

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

'I'm - you're really lucky the Dursleys are out…' he mumbled.

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

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

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

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

'Where are we going? The Burrow?' Harry asked hopefully.

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

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

'This is Alastor Moody, Harry' Lupin continued, pointing towards Moody.

'Yeah, I know,' said Harry uncomfortably. It felt odd to be intro-duced to somebody he'd thought he'd known for a year.

'And this is Nymphadora -'

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

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

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

'And this is Kingsley Shacklebolt.' He indicated the tall black wizard, who bowed. 'Elphias Doge.' The wheezy-voiced wizard nodded. 'Dedalus Diggle -'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?' said Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

'How're we getting - wherever we're going?' Harry asked.


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

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

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

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

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

'Funny place,' she said. 'It's a bit too clean, d'you know what 1 mean? Bit unnatural. Oh, this is better,' she added, as they entered Harry's bedroom and he turned on the light.

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

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

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

'Er -' said Harry, looking up at her over the top of Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonks chuckled.

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

Her eyes found the lightning-shaped scar on Harrys forehead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They won't,' said Harry.

- that you're safe -'That'll just depress them.'

- and you'll see them next summer.'

'Do I have to?'

Lupin smiled but made no answer.

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

'You need to what?' said Harry nervously.

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

He rapped him hard on the top of the head and Harry felt a curious sensation as though Moody had just smashed an egg there;

cold trickles seemed to be running down his body from the point the wand had struck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'I'm just telling the boy the plan,' growled Moody. 'Our jobs to deliver him safely to Headquarters and if we die in the attempt -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Bearing south!' shouted Mad-Eye. Town ahead!'

They soared right to avoid passing directly over the glittering spider's web of lights below.

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

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

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

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

Turning southwest!' yelled Moody 'We want to avoid the motorway!'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- CHAPTER FOUR -
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place
'What's the Order of the -?' Harry began.

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

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

'But where's -?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Here -'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Why?'

'I don't want anything to wake up.'

'What d'you -?'

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

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

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

'Mrs Weasley, why -?'

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

And she hurried off downstairs again.

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

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

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

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

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

'Hedwig!'

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

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

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

'Oh, yeah,' Harry said. 'Sorry about that, but I wanted answers, you know -'

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

'- swear not to tell me,' said Harry. 'Yeah, Hermione's already said. '

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

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

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

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

'I think he thought you were safest with the Muggles -' Ron began.

'Yeah?' said Harry, raising his eyebrows. 'Have either of you been attacked by Dementors this summer?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'So why's Dumbledore been so keen to keep me in the dark?'

Harry asked, still trying hard to keep his voice casual. 'Did you - er - bother to ask him at all?'

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

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

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

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

'Maybe he thinks 1 can't be trusted,' said Harry, watching their expressions.

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

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

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

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

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

But before he knew it, Harry was shouting.

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

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

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

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

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

'Harry, we wanted to tell you, we really did -' Hermione began.

'CANT'VE WANTED TO THAT MUCH, CAN YOU, OR YOU'D HAVE SENT ME AN OWL, BUT DUMBLEDORE MADE YOU SWEAR -

Well, he did -'

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

We wanted to -'

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

'No, honest -'

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

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

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

'Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix,' said Ron at once.

'Is anyone going to bother telling me what the Order of the Phoenix -?'

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

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

'Quite a few people -'

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

Harry glared at them.

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

'Er,' said Ron. 'Well what?'

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

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

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

'Extendable -?'

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

'Some of them are working on recruiting more people to the Order -' said Hermione.

'And some of them are standing guard over something,' said Ron. They're always talking about guard duty.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fred heaved a deep sigh.

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

'Snape!' said Harry quickly. 'Is he here?'

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

'Git,' said Fred idly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

'What d'you mean?'

'Remember old Fleur Delacour?' said George. 'She's got a job at Gringotts to eempwve 'er Eeenglish -'

'And Bill's been giving her a lot of private lessons,' sniggered Fred.

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

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

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

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

'Why not?'

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

'It's been awful,' said Ginny sadly.

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

'What's happened?' Harry said.

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

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

'You're kidding?' said Harry.

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

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

'So how come they promoted him?'

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

'Only Dad wasn't,' said Fred grimly.

'Why not?' said Harry.

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

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

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

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

'But what's that got to do with Percy?' asked Harry, contused.

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

Harry let out a low whistle.

'Bet Percy loved that.'

Ron laughed in a hollow sort of way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Haven't - haven't you been getting the Daily Prophet!' Hermione asked nervously.

'Yeah, I have!' said Harry.

'Have you - er - been reading it thoroughly?' Hermione asked, still more anxiously.

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

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

'But I'd have seen -'

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

'What d'you -?'

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

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

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

'Which is what?' said Harry impatiently.

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

'Yeah,' said Harry, who was not likely to forget Rita Skeeters stories about him in a hurry.

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

'I don't want anyone to worship -' Harry began hotly.

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

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

'We know, Harry,' said Ginny earnestly.

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

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

'Uh oh.'

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

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

'Crookshanks,' said Ginny unblusingly. 'He loves playing with them.'

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

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

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

'Yeah, I know,' said Harry shortly.

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

'Who's Kreacher?' he asked.

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

Hermione frowned at Ron.

'He's not a nutter, Ron.'

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

'Well - well, if he is a bit strange, it's not his fault.'

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry.

'Hermione still hasn't given up on SPEW -'

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

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

He led the way out of the door and on to the landing, but before they could descend the stairs -

'Hold it!' Ron breathed, flinging out an arm to stop Harry and Hermione walking any further. They're still in the hall, we might be able to hear something.'

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

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

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

They heard the front door open, then close.

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

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

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

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

CRASH.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The old woman's face blanched.

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

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

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

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

- CHAPTER FIVE -
The Order of the Phoenix
'Your -?'

'My dear old mum, yeah,' said Sirius. 'We've been trying to get her down for a month but we think she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas. Let's get downstairs, quick, before they all wake up again.'

'But what's a portrait of your mother doing here?' Harry asked, bewildered, as they went through the door from the hall and led the way down a flight of narrow stone steps, the others just behind them.

'Hasn't anyone told you? This was my parents' house,' said Sirius. 'But I'm the last Black left, so it's mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for Headquarters - about the only useful thing I've been able to do.'

Harry, who had expected a better welcome, noted how hard and bitter Sirius's voice sounded. He followed his godfather to the bottom of the steps and through a door leading into the basement kitchen.

It was scarcely less gloomy than the hall above, a cavernous room with rough stone walls. Most of the light was coming from a large fire at the far end of the room. A haze of pipe smoke hung in the air like battle fumes, through which loomed the menacing shapes of heavy iron pots and pans hanging from the dark ceiling. Many chairs had been crammed into the room for the meeting and a long wooden table stood in the middle of them, littered with rolls of parchment, goblets, empty wine bottles, and a heap of what appeared to be rags. Mr Weasley and his eldest son Bill were talking quietly with their heads together at the end of the table.

Mrs Weasley cleared her throat. Her husband, a thin, balding, red-haired man who wore horn-rimmed glasses, looked around and jumped to his feet.

'Harry!' Mr Weasley said, hurrying forward to greet him, and shaking his hand vigorously. 'Good to see you!'

Over his shoulder Harry saw Bill, who still wore his long hair in a ponytail, hastily rolling up the lengths of parchment left on the table.

'Journey all right, Harry?' Bill called, trying to gather up twelve scrolls at once. 'Mad-Eye didn't make you come via Greenland, then?'

'He tried,' said Tonks, striding over to help Bill and immediately toppling a candle on to the last piece of parchment. 'Oh no - sorry -

'Here, dear,' said Mrs Weasley, sounding exasperated, and she repaired the parchment with a wave of her wand. In the flash of light caused by Mrs Weasley's charm Harry caught a glimpse of what looked like the plan of a building.

Mrs Weasley had seen him looking. She snatched the plan off the table and stuffed it into Bill's already overladen arms.

'This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings,' she snapped, before sweeping off towards an ancient dresser from which she started unloading dinner plates.

Bill took out his wand, muttered, 'Evanesco!' and the scrolls vanished.

'Sit down, Harry,' said Sirius. 'You've met Mundungus, haven't you?'

The thing Harry had taken to be a pile of rags gave a prolonged, grunting snore, then jerked awake.

'Some'n say m'name?' Mundungus mumbled sleepily. 'I 'gree with Sirius.' He raised a very grubby hand in the air as though voting, his droopy, bloodshot eyes unfocused.

Ginny giggled.

'The meeting's over, Dung,' said Sirius, as they all sat down around him at the table. 'Harry's arrived.'

'Eh?' said Mundungus, peering balefully at Harry through his matted ginger hair. 'Blimey, so 'e 'as. Yeah. you all right, 'Any?'

'Yeah,' said Harry.

Mundungus fumbled nervously in his pockets, still staring at Harry, and pulled out a grimy black pipe. He stuck it in his mouth, ignited the end of it with his wand and took a deep pull on it. Great billowing clouds of greenish smoke obscured him within seconds.

'Owe you a 'pology,' grunted a voice from the middle of the smelly cloud.

'For the last time, Mundungus,' called Mrs Weasley, 'will you please not smoke that thing in the kitchen, especially not when we're about to eat!'

'Ah,' said Mundungus. 'Right. Sorry, Molly.'

The cloud of smoke vanished as Mundungus stowed his pipe back in his pocket, but an acrid smell of burning socks lingered.

'And if you want dinner before midnight I'll need a hand,' Mrs Weasley said to the room at large. 'No, you can stay where you are, Harry dear, you've had a long journey.'

'What can I do, Molly?' said Tonks enthusiastically, bounding forwards.

Mrs Weasley hesitated, looking apprehensive.

'Er - no, it's all right, Tonks, you have a rest too, you've done enough today.'

'No, no, I want to help!' said Tonks brightly, knocking over a chair as she hurried towards the dresser, from which Ginny was collecting cutlery.

Soon, a series of heavy knives were chopping meat and vegetables of their own accord, supervised by Mr Weasley, while Mrs Weasley stirred a cauldron dangling over the fire and the others took out plates, more goblets and food from the pantry. Harry was left at the table with Sirius and Mundungus, who was still blinking at him mournfully.

'Seen old Figgy since?' he asked.

'No,' said Harry, 'I haven't seen anyone.'

'See, I wouldn't 'ave left,' said Mundungus, leaning forward, a pleading note in his voice, 'but I 'ad a business opportunity -'

Harry felt something brush against his knees and started, but it was only Crookshanks, Hermione's bandy-legged ginger cat, who wound himself once around Harry's legs, purring, then jumped on to Sirius's lap and curled up. Sirius scratched him absent-mindedly behind the ears as he turned, still grim-faced, to Harry.

'Had a good summer so far?'

'No, it's been lousy,' said Harry.

For the first time, something like a grin flitted across Sirius's face.

'Don't know what you're complaining about, myself.'

'What?' said Harry incredulously.

'Personally, I'd have welcomed a Dementor attack. A deadly struggle for my soul would have broken the monotony nicely. You think you've had it bad, at least you've been able to get out and about, stretch your legs, get into a few fights. I've been stuck inside for a month.'

'How come?' asked Harry, frowning.

'Because the Ministry of Magic's still after me, and Voldemort will know all about me being an Animagus by now, Wormtail will have told him, so my big disguise is useless. There's not much I can do for the Order of the Phoenix. or so Dumbledore feels.'

There was something about the slightly flattened tone of voice in which Sirius uttered Dumbledore's name that told Harry that Sirius, too, was not very happy with the Headmaster. Harry felt a sudden upsurge of affection for his godfather.

At least you've known what's been going on,' he said bracingly.

'Oh yeah,' said Sirius sarcastically. 'Listening to Snape's reports, having to take all his snide hints that he's out there risking his life while I'm sat on my backside here having a nice comfortable time. asking me how the cleanings going -'

'What cleaning?' asked Harry.

Trying to make this place fit for human habitation,' said Sirius, waving a hand around the dismal kitchen. 'No one's lived here for ten years, not since my dear mother died, unless you count her old house-elf, and he's gone round the twist - hasn't cleaned anything in ages.'

'Sirius,' said Mundungus, who did not appear to have paid any attention to the conversation, but had been closely examining an empty goblet. 'This solid silver, mate?'

'Yes,' said Sirius, surveying it with distaste. 'Finest fifteenth-century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest.'

That'd come orf, though,' muttered Mundungus, polishing it with his cuff.

'Fred - George - NO, JUST CARRY THEM!' Mrs Weasley shrieked.

Harry, Sirius and Mundungus looked round and, within a split second, they had dived away from the table. Fred and George had bewitched a large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of Butterbeer and a heavy wooden breadboard, complete with knife, to hurtle through the air towards them. The stew skidded the length of the table and came to a halt just before the end, leaving a long black burn on the wooden surface; the flagon of Butterbeer fell with a crash, spilling its contents everywhere; the bread knife slipped off the board and landed, point down and quivering ominously, exactly where Sirius's right hand had been seconds before.

'FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!' screamed Mrs Weasley. THERE WAS NO NEED - I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS - JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW, YOU DON'T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!'

'We were just trying to save a bit of time!' said Fred, hurrying forward to wrench the bread knife out of the table. 'Sorry, Sirius, mate - didn't mean to -'

Harry and Sirius were both laughing; Mundungus, who had toppled backwards off his chair, was swearing as he got to his feet; Crookshanks had given an angry hiss and shot off under the dresser, from where his large yellow eyes glowed in the darkness.

'Boys,' Mr Weasley said, lifting the stew back into the middle of the table, 'your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now you've come of age -'

'None of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!' Mrs Weasley raged at the twins as she slammed a fresh flagon of Butterbeer on to the table, and spilling almost as much again. 'Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't charm everything he met! Percy -'

She stopped dead, catching her breath with a frightened look at her husband, whose expression was suddenly wooden.

'Let's eat,' said Bill quickly.

'It looks wonderful, Molly,' said Lupin, ladling stew on to a plate for her and handing it across the table.

For a few minutes there was silence but for the chink of plates and cutlery and the scraping of chairs as everyone settled down to their food. Then Mrs Weasley turned to Sirius.

'I've been meaning to tell you, Sirius, there's something trapped in that writing desk in the drawing room, it keeps rattling and shaking. Of course, it could just be a Boggart, but I thought we ought to ask Alastor to have a look at it before we let it out.'

'Whatever you like,' said Sirius indifferently.

'The curtains in there are full of Doxys, too,' Mrs Weasley went on. 'I thought we might try and tackle them tomorrow.'

'I look forward to it,' said Sirius. Harry heard the sarcasm in his voice, but he was not sure that anyone else did.

Opposite Harry, Tonks was entertaining Hermione and Ginny by transforming her nose between mouthfuls. Screwing up her eyes each time with the same pained expression she had worn back in Harry's bedroom, her nose swelled to a beak-like protuberance that resembled Snape's, shrank to the size of a button mushroom and then sprouted a great deal of hair from each nostril. Apparently this was a regular mealtime entertainment, because Hermione and Ginny were soon requesting their favourite noses.

'Do that one like a pig snout, Tonks.'

Tonks obliged, and Harry, looking up, had the fleeting impression that a female Dudley was grinning at him from across the table.

Mr Weasley, Bill and Lupin were having an intense discussion about goblins.

They're not giving anything away yet,' said Bill. 'I still can't work out whether or not they believe he's back. Course, they might prefer not to take sides at all. Keep out of it.'

'I'm sure they'd never go over to You-Know-Who,' said Mr Weasley, shaking his head. They've suffered losses too; remember that goblin family he murdered last time, somewhere near Nottingham?'

'I think it depends what they're offered,' said Lupin. 'And I'm not talking about gold. If they're offered the freedoms we've been denying them for centuries they're going to be tempted. Have you still not had any luck with Ragnok, Bill?'

'He's feeling pretty anti-wizard at the moment,' said Bill, 'he hasn't stopped raging about the Bagman business, he reckons the Ministry did a cover-up, those goblins never got their gold from him, you know -'

A gale of laughter from the middle of the table drowned the rest of Bill's words. Fred, George, Ron and Mundungus were rolling around in their seats.

'. and then,' choked Mundungus, tears running down his face, 'and then, if you'll believe it, 'e says to me, 'e says, "'Ere, Dung, where didja get all them toads from? 'Cos some son of a Bludger's gone and nicked all mine!" And I says, "Nicked all your toads, Will, what next? So you'll be wanting some more, then?" And if you'll believe me, lads, the gormless gargoyle buys all 'is own toads back orf me for a lot more'n what 'e paid in the first place -'

'1 don't think we need to hear any more of your business dealings, thank you very much, Mundungus,' said Mrs Weasley sharply, as Ron slumped forwards on to the table, howling with laughter.

'Beg pardon, Molly,' said Mundungus at once, wiping his eyes and winking at Harry. 'But, you know, Will nicked 'em orf Warty Harris in the first place so I wasn't really doing nothing wrong.'

'I don't know where you learned about right and wrong, Mundungus, but you seem to have missed a few crucial lessons,' said Mrs Weasley coldly.

Fred and George buried their faces in their goblets of Butterbeer; George was hiccoughing. For some reason, Mrs Weasley threw a very nasty look at Sirius before getting to her feet and going to fetch a large rhubarb crumble for pudding. Harry looked round at his godfather.

'Molly doesn't approve of Mundungus,' said Sirius in an undertone.

'How come he's in the Order?' Harry said, very quietly.

'He's useful,' Sirius muttered. 'Knows all the crooks - well, he would, seeing as he's one himself. But he's also very loyal to Dumbledore, who helped him out of a tight spot once. It pays to have someone like Dung around, he hears things we don't. But Molly thinks inviting him to stay for dinner is going too far. She hasn't forgiven him for slipping off duty when he was supposed to be tailing you.'

Three helpings of rhubarb crumble and custard later and the waistband on Harrys jeans was feeling uncomfortably tight (which was saying something as the jeans had once been Dudley's). As he laid down his spoon there was a lull in the general conversation: Mr Weasley was leaning back in his chair, looking replete and relaxed; Tonks was yawning widely, her nose now back to normal; and Ginny who had lured Crookshanks out from under the dresser, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, rolling Butterbeer corks for him to chase.

'Nearly time for bed, I think,' said Mrs Weasley with a yawn.

'Not just yet, Molly' said Sirius, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. 'You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort.'

The atmosphere in the room changed with the rapidity Harry associated with the arrival of Dementors. Where seconds before it had been sleepily relaxed, it was now alert, even tense. A frisson had gone around the table at the mention of Voldemort's name. Lupin, who had been about to take a sip of wine, lowered his goblet slowly, looking wary.

'I did!' said Harry indignantly. 'I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we're not allowed in the Order, so -'

'And they're quite right,' said Mrs Weasley. 'You're too young.'

She was sitting bolt upright in her chair, her fists clenched on its arms, every trace of drowsiness gone.

'Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?' asked Sirius. 'Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen-'

'Hang on!' interrupted George loudly.

'How come Harry gets his questions answered?' said Fred angrily.

'We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!' said George.

'"You're too young, you're not in the Order,'" said Fred, in a high-pitched voice that sounded uncannily like his mother's. 'Harry's not even of age!'

'It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing,' said Sirius calmly, 'that's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand -'

'It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!' said Mrs Weasley sharply. The expression on her normally kind face looked dangerous. 'You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?'

'Which bit?' Sirius asked politely, but with the air of a man readying himself for a fight.

The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know,' said Mrs Weasley, placing a heavy emphasis on the last three words.

Ron, Hermione, Fred and George's heads swivelled from Sirius to Mrs Weasley as though they were following a tennis rally. Ginny was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned Butterbeer corks, watching the conversation with her mouth slightly open. Lupin's eyes were fixed on Sirius.

'I don't intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly,' said Sirius. 'But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back' (again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name) 'he has more right than most to -'

'He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!' said Mrs Weasley. 'He's only fifteen and -'

'And he's dealt with as much as most in the Order,' said Sirius, 'and more than some.'

'No one's denying what he's done!' said Mrs Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. 'But he's still -'

'He's not a child!' said Sirius impatiently.

'He's not an adult either!' said Mrs Weasley, the colour rising in her cheeks. 'He's not James, Sirius!'

'I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly,' said Sirius coldly.

'I'm not sure you are!' said Mrs Weasley. 'Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!'

'What's wrong with that?' said Harry.

'What's wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him!' said Mrs Weasley, her eyes still boring into Sirius. 'You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!'

'Meaning I'm an irresponsible godfather?' demanded Sirius, his voice rising.

'Meaning you have been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay at home and -'

'We'll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!' said Sirius loudly.

'Arthur!' said Mrs Weasley, rounding on her husband. 'Arthur, back me up!'

Mr Weasley did not speak at once. He took off his glasses and cleaned them slowly on his robes, not looking at his wife. Only when he had replaced them carefully on his nose did he reply.

'Dumbledore knows the position has changed, Molly. He accepts that Harry will have to be filled in, to a certain extent, now that he is staying at Headquarters.'

'Yes, but there's a difference between that and inviting him to ask whatever he likes!'

'Personally,' said Lupin quietly, looking away from Sirius at last, as Mrs Weasley turned quickly to him, hopeful that finally she was about to get an ally, 'I think it better that Harry gets the facts -not all the facts, Molly, but the general picture - from us, rather than a garbled version from. others.'

His expression was mild, but Harry felt sure Lupin, at least, knew that some Extendable Ears had survived Mrs Weasley's purge.

'Well,' said Mrs Weasley, breathing deeply and looking around the table for support that did not come, 'well. I can see I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has Harry's best interests at heart -'

'He's not your son,' said Sirius quietly.

'He's as good as,' said Mrs Weasley fiercely. 'Who else has he got?'

'He's got me!'

'Yes,' said Mrs Weasley, her lip curling, 'the thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked UP in Azkaban, hasn't it?'

Sirius started to rise from his chair.

'Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry,' said Lupin sharply. 'Sirius, sit down.'

Mrs Weasley's lower lip was trembling. Sirius sank slowly back into his chair, his face white.

'I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this,' Lupin continued, 'he's old enough to decide for himself.'

'I want to know what's been going on,' Harry said at once.

He did not look at Mrs Weasley. He had been touched by what she had said about his being as good as a son, but he was also impatient with her mollycoddling. Sirius was right, he was not a child.

'Very well,' said Mrs Weasley, her voice cracking. 'Ginny - Ron - Hermione - Fred - George - I want you out of this kitchen, now.'

There was instant uproar.

'We're of age!' Fred and George bellowed together.

'If Harry's allowed, why can't I?' shouted Ron.

'Mum, I want to hear!' wailed Ginny.

'NO!' shouted Mrs Weasley, standing up, her eyes overbright. 'I absolutely forbid -'

'Molly, you can't stop Fred and George,' said Mr Weasley wearily. They are of age.'

They're still at school.'

'But they're legally adults now,' said Mr Weasley, in the same tired voice.

Mrs Weasley was now scarlet in the face.

'I - oh, all right then, Fred and George can stay, but Ron -'

'Harry'll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!' said Ron hotly. 'Won't - won't you?' he added uncertainly, meeting Harry's eyes.

For a split second, Harry considered telling Ron that he wouldn't tell him a single word, that he could try a taste of being kept in the dark and see how he liked it. But the nasty impulse vanished as they looked at each other.

'Course I will,' Harry said.

Ron and Hermione beamed.

'Fine!' shouted Mrs Weasley. 'Fine! Ginny - BED!'

Ginny did not go quietly. They could hear her raging and storming at her mother all the way up the stairs, and when she reached the hall Mrs Blacks ear-splitting shrieks were added to the din. Lupin hurried off to the portrait to restore calm. It was only after he had returned, closing the kitchen door behind him and taking his seat at the table again, that Sirius spoke.

'OK, Harry. what do you want to know?'

Harry took a deep breath and asked the question that had obsessed him for the last month.

'Where's Voldemort?' he said, ignoring the renewed shudders and winces at the name. 'What's he doing? I've been trying to watch the Muggle news, and there hasn't been anything that looks like him yet, no funny deaths or anything.'

That's because there haven't been any funny deaths yet,' said Sirius, 'not as far as we know, anyway. and we know quite a lot.'

'More than he thinks we do, anyway,' said Lupin.

'How come he's stopped killing people?' Harry asked. He knew Voldemort had murdered more than once in the last year alone.

'Because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself,' said Sirius. 'It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn't come off quite the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up.'

'Or rather, you messed it tip for him,' said Lupin, with a satisfied smile.

'How?' Harry asked, perplexed.

'You weren't supposed to survive!' said Sirius. 'Nobody apart from his Death Eaters was supposed to know he'd come back. But you survived to bear witness.'

'And the very last person he wanted alerted to his return the moment he got back was Dumbledore,' said Lupin. 'And you made sure Dumbledore knew at once.'

'How has that helped?' Harry asked.

'Are you kidding?' said Bill incredulously. 'Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was ever scared of!'

Thanks to you, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order of the Phoenix about an hour after Voldemort returned,' said Sirius.

'So, what's the Order been doing?' said Harry, looking around at them all.

'Working as hard as we can to make sure Voldemort can't carry out his plans,' said Sirius.

'How d'you know what his plans are?' Harry asked quickly.

'Dumbledore's got a shrewd idea,' said Lupin, 'and Dumbledore's shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate.'

'So what does Dumbledore reckon he's planning?'

'Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again,' said Sirius. 'In the old days he had huge numbers at his command: witches and wizards he'd bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they'll be just one of the groups he's after. He's certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters.'

'So you're trying to stop him getting more followers?'

'We're doing our best,' said Lupin.

'How?'

'Well, the main thing is to try and convince as many people as possible that You-Know-Who really has returned, to put them on their guard,' said Bill. 'It's proving tricky, though.'

'Why?'

'Because of the Ministry's attitude,' said Tonks. 'You saw Cornelius Fudge after You-Know-Who came back, Harry. Well, he hasn't shifted his position at all. He's absolutely refusing to believe it's happened.'

'But why?' said Harry desperately. Why's he being so stupid? If Dumbledore -'

'Ah, well, you've put your finger on the problem,' said Mr Weasley with a wry smile. 'Dumbledore.'

'Fudge is frightened of him, you see,' said Tonks sadly.

'Frightened of Dumbledore?' said Harry incredulously.

'Frightened of what he's up to,' said Mr Weasley. 'Fudge thinks Dumbledore's plotting to overthrow him. He thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister for Magic.'

'But Dumbledore doesn't want -'

'Of course he doesn't,' said Mr Weasley. 'He's never wanted the Minister's job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but

-

he's never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job.'

'Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice,' said Lupin. 'But it seems he's become fond of power, and much more confident. He loves being Minister for Magic and he's managed to convince himself that he's the clever one and Dumbledore's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it.'

'How can he think that?' said Harry angrily. 'How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up - that I'd make it all up?'

'Because accepting that Voldemort's back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn't had to cope with for nearly fourteen years,' said Sirius bitterly. 'Fudge just can't bring himself to face it. It's so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore's lying to destabilise him.'

'You see the problem,' said Lupin. 'While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort it's hard to convince people he's back, especially as they really don't want to believe it in the first place. What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to report any of what they're calling Dumbledore's rumour-mongering, so most of the wizarding community are completely unaware any things happened, and that makes them easy targets for the Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse.'

'But you're telling people, aren't you?' said Harry, looking around at Mr Weasley, Sirius, Bill, Mundungus, Lupin and Tonks. 'You're letting people know he's back?'

They all smiled humourlessly.

'Well, as everyone thinks I'm a mad mass-murderer and the Ministry's put a ten thousand Galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?' said Sirius restlessly.

'And I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community,' said Lupin. 'It's an occupational hazard of being a werewolf.'

'Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off,' said Sirius, 'and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them.'

'We've managed to convince a couple of people, though,' said Mr Weasley. Tonks here, for one - she's too young to have been in the Order of the Phoenix last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage - Kingsley Shacklebolt's been a real asset, too; he's in charge of the hunt for Sirius, so he's been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet.'

'But if none of you are putting the news out that Voldemorts back -' Harry began.

'Who said none of us are putting the news out?' said Sirius. Why d'you think Dumbledore's in such trouble?'

'What d'you mean?' Harry asked.

They're trying to discredit him,' said Lupin. 'Didn't you see the Daily Prophet last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but it's not true; he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemorts return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot - that's the Wizard High Court - and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too.'

'But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog Cards,' said Bill, grinning.

'It's no laughing matter,' said Mr Weasley sharply. 'If he carries on defying the Ministry like this he could end up in Azkaban, and the last thing we want is to have Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore's out there and wise to what he's up to he's going to go cautiously. If Dumbledore's out ol the way - well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field.'

'But if Voldemort's trying to recruit more Death Eaters it's bound to get out that he's come back, isn't it?' asked Harry desperately.

'Voldemort doesn't march up to people's houses and bang on their front doors, Harry,' said Sirius. 'He tricks, jinxes and blackmails them. He's well-practised at operating in secret. In any case, gathering followers is only one thing he's interested in. He's got other plans too, plans he can put into operation very quietly indeed, and he's concentrating on those for the moment.'

'What's he after apart from followers?' Harry asked swiftly. He thought he saw Sirius and Lupin exchange the most fleeting of looks before Sirius answered.

'Stuff he can only get by stealth.'

When Harry continued to look puzzled, Sirius said, 'Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time.'

'When he was powerful before?'

'Yes.'

'Like what kind of weapon?' said Harry. 'Something worse than the Avada Kedavra -?'

'That's enough!'

Mrs Weasley spoke from the shadows beside the door. Harry hadn't noticed her return from taking Ginny upstairs. Her arms were crossed and she looked furious.

'I want you in bed, now. All of you,' she added, looking around at Fred, George, Ron and Hermione.

'You can't boss us -' Fred began.

'Watch me,' snarled Mrs Weasley. She was trembling slightly as she looked at Sirius. 'You've given Harry plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct him into the Order straightaway.'

'Why not?' said Harry quickly. Til join, I want to join, I want to fight.'

'No.'

It was not Mrs Weasley who spoke this time, but Lupin.

The Order is comprised only of overage wizards,' he said. 'Wizards who have left school,' he added, as Fred and Georg^ opened their mouths. There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you. I think Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough.'

Sirius half-shrugged but did not argue. Mrs Weasley beckoned imperiously to her sons and Hermione. One by one they stood up and Harry, recognising defeat, followed suit.

- CHAPTER SIX -
The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black
Mrs Weasley followed them upstairs looking grim.

'I want you all to go straight to bed, no talking,' she said as they reached the first landing, 'we've got a busy day tomorrow. I expect Ginny's asleep,' she added to Hermione, 'so try not to wake her up.'

'Asleep, yeah, right,' said Fred in an undertone, after Hermione bade them goodnight and they were climbing to the next floor. 'If Ginny's not lying awake waiting for Hermione to tell her everything they said downstairs then I'm a Flobberworm.'

'All right, Ron, Harry,' said Mrs Weasley on the second landing, pointing them into their bedroom. 'Off to bed with you.'

'Night,' Harry and Ron said to the twins.

'Sleep tight,' said Fred, winking.

Mrs Weasley closed the door behind Harry with a sharp snap. The bedroom looked, if anything, even danker and gloomier than it had on first sight. The blank picture on the wall was now breathing very slowly and deeply, as though its invisible occupant was asleep. Harry put on his pyjamas, took off his glasses and climbed into his chilly bed while Ron threw Owl Treats up on top of the wardrobe to pacify Hedwig and Pigwidgeon, who were clattering around and rustling their wings restlessly.

'We can't let them out to hunt every night,' Ron explained as he pulled on his maroon pyjamas. 'Dumbledore doesn't want too many owls swooping around the square, thinks it'll look suspicious. Oh yeah. I forgot.'

He crossed to the door and bolted it.

'What're you doing that for?'

'Kreacher,' said Ron as he turned off the light. 'First night I was here he came wandering in at three in the morning. Trust me, you don't want to wake up and find him prowling around your room. Anyway.' he got into his bed, settled down under the covers then turned to look at Harry in the darkness; Harry could see his outline by the moonlight filtering in through the grimy window, 'what d'you reckon?'

Harry didn't need to ask what Ron meant.

'Well, they didn't tell us much we couldn't have guessed, did they?' he said, thinking of all that had been said downstairs. 'I mean, all they've really said is that the Order's trying to stop people joining Vol-'

There was a sharp intake of breath from Ron.

'-demort,' said Harry firmly. 'When are you going to start using his name? Sirius and Lupin do.'

Ron ignored this last comment.

'Yeah, you're right,' he said, 'we already knew nearly everything they told us, from using the Extendable Ears. The only new bit was -'

Crack.

'OUCH!'

'Keep your voice down, Ron, or Mum'll be back up here.'

'You two just Apparated on my knees!'

'Yeah, well, it's harder in the dark.'

Harry saw the blurred outlines of Fred and George leaping down from Ron's bed. There was a groan of bedsprings and Harry's mattress descended a few inches as George sat down near his feet.

'So, got there yet?' said George eagerly.

The weapon Sirius mentioned?' said Harry.

'Let slip, more like,' said Fred with relish, now sitting next to Ron. 'We didn't hear about that on the old Extendables, did we?'

'What d'you reckon it is?' said Harry.

'Could be anything,' said Fred.

'But there can't be anything worse than the Avada Kedavra Curse, can there?' said Ron. What's worse than death?'

'Maybe it's something that can kill loads of people at once,' suggested George.

'Maybe it's some particularly painful way of killing people,' said Ron fearfully.

'He's got the Cruciatus Curse for causing pain,' said Harry, 'he doesn't need anything more efficient than that.'

There was a pause and Harry knew that the others, like him, were wondering what horrors this weapon could perpetrate.

'So who d'you think's got it now?' asked George.

'I hope it's our side,' said Ron, sounding slightly nervous.

'If it is, Dumbledore's probably keeping it,' said Fred. *!

'Where?' said Ron quickly. 'Hogwarts?' .'

'Bet it is!' said George. That's where he hid the Philosopher's Stone.'

'A weapons going to be a lot bigger than the Stone, though!' said Ron.

'Not necessarily' said Fred.

'Yeah, size is no guarantee of power,' said George. 'Look at Ginny.'

'What d'you mean?' said Harry.

'You've never been on the receiving end of one of her Bat-Bogey Hexes, have you?'

'Shhh!' said Fred, half-rising irom the bed. 'Listen!'

They fell silent. Footsteps were coming up the stairs.

'Mum,' said George and without further ado there was a loud crack and Harry felt the weight vanish from the end of his bed. A few seconds later, they heard the floorboard creak outside their door; Mrs Weasley was plainly listening to check whether or not they were talking.

Hedwig and Pigwidgeon hooted dolefully. The floorboard creaked again and they heard her heading upstairs to check on Fred and George.

'She doesn't trust us at all, you know,' said Ron regretfully.

Harry was sure he would not be able to fall asleep; the evening had been so packed with things to think about that he fully expected to lie awake for hours mulling it all over. He wanted to continue talking to Ron, but Mrs Weasley was now creaking back downstairs again, and once she had gone he distinctly heard others making their way upstairs. in fact, many-legged creatures were cantering softly up and down outside the bedroom door, and Hagrid the Care of Magical Creatures teacher was saying, 'Beauties, arm they, eh, Harry? We'll be studyin' weapons this term ." and Harry saw that the creatures had cannons for heads and were wheeling to face him. he ducked.

The next thing he knew, he was curled into a warm ball under his bedclothes and Georges loud voice was filling the room.

'Mum says get up, your breakfast is in the kitchen and then she needs you in the drawing room, there are loads more Doxys than she thought and she's found a nest of dead Puffskeins under the sofa.'

Half an hour later Harry and Ron, who had dressed and breakfasted quickly, entered the drawing room, a long, high-ceilinged room on the first floor with olive green walls covered in dirty tapestries. The carpet exhaled little clouds of dust every time someone put their foot on it and the long, moss green velvet curtains were buzzing as though swarming with invisible bees. It was around these that Mrs Weasley, Hermione, Ginny, Fred and George were grouped, all looking rather peculiar as they had each tied a cloth over their nose and mouth. Each of them was also holding a large bottle of black liquid with a nozzle at the end.

'Cover your faces and take a spray,' Mrs Weasley said to Harry and Ron the moment she saw them, pointing to two more bottles of black liquid standing on a spindle-legged table. 'It's Doxycide. I've never seen an infestation this bad - what that house-elf's been doing for the last ten years -'

Hermione's face was half concealed by a tea towel but Harry distinctly saw her throw a reproachful look at Mrs Weasley.

'Kreacher's really old, he probably couldn't manage -'

'You'd be surprised what Kreacher can manage when he wants to, Hermione,' said Sirius, who had just entered the room carrying a bloodstained bag of what appeared to be dead rats. 'I've just been feeding Buckbeak,' he added, in reply to Harrys enquiring look. 'I keep him upstairs in my mothers bedroom. Anyway. this writing desk.'

He dropped the bag of rals into an armchair, then bent over Jo examine the locked cabinet which, Harry now noticed for the fulst time, was shaking slightly.

'Well, Molly, I'm pretty sure this is a Boggart,' said Sirius, peering through the keyhole, 'but perhaps we ought to let Mad-Eye have a shifty at it before we let it out - knowing my mother, it could be something much worse.'

'Right you are, Sirius,' said Mrs Weasley.

They were both speaking in carefully light, polite voices that told Harry quite plainly that neither had forgotten their disagreement of the night before.

A loud, clanging bell sounded from downstairs, followed at once by the cacophony of screams and wails that had been triggered the previous night by Tonks knocking over the umbrella stand.

'I keep telling them not to ring the doorbell!' said Sirius exas-peratedly, hurrying out of the room. They heard him thundering down the stairs as Mrs Black's screeches echoed up through the house once more:

'Stains, of dishonour, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth

'Close the door, please, Harry,' said Mrs Weasley.

Harry took as much time as he dared to close the drawing-room door; he wanted to listen to what was going on downstairs. Sirius had obviously managed to shut the curtains over his mother's portrait because she had stopped screaming. He heard Sirius walking down the hall, then the clattering of the chain on the front door, and then a deep voice he recognised as Kingsley Shacklebolt's saying, 'Hestia's just relieved me, so she's got Moody's Cloak now, thought I'd leave a report for Dumbledore.'

Feeling Mrs Weasley's eyes on the back of his head, Harry regretfully closed the drawing-room door and rejoined the Doxy party.

Mrs Weasley was bending over to check the page on Doxys in Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests, which was lying open on the sofa.

'Right, you lot, you need to be careful, because Doxys bite and their teeth are poisonous. I've got a bottle of antidote here, but I'd rather nobody needed it.'

She straightened up, positioned herself squarely in front of the curtains and beckoned them all forward.

'When I say the word, start spraying immediately,' she said. They'll come Hying out at us, I expect, but it says on the sprays one good squirt will paralyse them. When they're immobilised, just throw them in this bucket.'

She stepped carefully out of their line of fire, and raised her own spray.

'All right - squirt!'

Harry had been spraying only a few seconds when a fully-grown Doxy came soaring out of a fold in the material, shiny beetle-like wings whirring, tiny needle-sharp teeth bared, its fairy-like body covered with thick black hair and its four tiny lists clenched with fury. Harry caught it full in the face with a blast of Doxycide. It froze in midair and fell, with a surprisingly loud thunk, on to the worn carpet below. Harry picked it up and threw it in the bucket.

'Fred, what are you doing?' said Mrs Weasley sharply. 'Spray that at once and throw it away!'

Harry looked round. Fred was holding a struggling Doxy between his forefinger and thumb.

'Right-o,' Fred said brightly, spraying the Doxy quickly in the face so that it fainted, but the moment Mrs Weasley's back was turned he pocketed it with a wink.

'We want to experiment with Doxy venom for our Skiving Snackboxes,' George told Harry under his breath.

Deftly spraying two Doxys at once as they soared straight for his nose, Harry moved closer to George and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, 'What are Skiving Snackboxes?'

'Range of sweets to make you ill,' George whispered, keeping a wary eye on Mrs Weasley's back. 'Not seriously ill, mind, just ill enough to get you out of a class when you feel like it. Fred and I have been developing them this summer. They're double-ended, colour-coded chews. If you eat the orange half of the Puking Pastilles, you throw up. Moment you've been rushed out of the lesson for the hospital wing, you swallow the purple half -'

''- which restores you to full fitness, enabling you to pursue the leisure activity of your own choice during an hour that would otherwise have been devoted to unprofitable boredom." That's what we're putting in the adverts, anyway,' whispered Fred, who had edged over out of Mrs Weasley's line of vision and was now sweeping a few stray Doxys from the floor and adding them to his pocket. 'But they still need a bit of work. At the moment our testers are having a bit of trouble stopping themselves puking long enough to swallow the purple end.'

Testers?'

'Us,' said Fred. 'We take it in turns. George did the Fainting Fancies - we both tried the Nosebleed Nougat -'

'Mum thought we'd been duelling,' said George.

'Joke shop still on, then?' Harry muttered, pretending to be adjusting the nozzle on his spray.

'Well, we haven't had a chance to get premises yet,' said Fred, dropping his voice even lower as Mrs Weasley mopped her brow with her scarf before returning to the attack, 'so we're running it as a mail-order service at the moment. We put advertisements in the Daily Prophet last week.'

'All thanks to you, mate,' said George. 'But don't worry. Mum hasn't got a clue. She won't read the Daily Prophet any more, 'cause of it telling lies about you and Dumbledore.'

Harry grinned. He had forced the Weasley twins to take the thousand Galleons prize money he had won in the Triwizard Tournament to help them realise their ambition to open a joke shop, but he was still glad to know that his part in furthering their plans was unknown to Mrs Weasley. She did not think running a joke shop was a suitable career for two of her sons.

The de-Doxying of the curtains took most of the morning. It was past midday when Mrs Weasley finally removed her protective scarf, sank into a sagging armchair and sprang up again with a cry of disgust, having sat on the bag of dead rats. The curtains were no longer buzzing; they hung limp and damp from the intensive spraying. At the foot of them unconscious Doxys lay crammed in the bucket beside a bowl of their black eggs, at which Crook-shanks was now sniffing and Fred and George were shooting covetous looks.

'I think we'll tackle those after lunch.' Mrs Weasley pointed at the dusty glass-fronted cabinets standing on either side of the mantelpiece. They were crammed with an odd assortment of objects: a selection of rusty daggers, claws, a coiled snakeskin, a number of tarnished silver boxes inscribed with languages Harry could not understand and, least pleasant of all, an ornate crystal bottle with a large opal set into the stopper, full of what Harry was quite sure was blood.

The clanging doorbell rang again. Everyone looked at Mrs Weasley.

'Stay here,' she said firmly, snatching up the bag of rats as Mrs Black's screeches started up again from down below. I'll bring up some sandwiches.'

She left the room, closing the door carefully behind her. At once, everyone dashed over to the window to look down on the doorstep. They could see the top of an unkempt gingery head and a stack of precariously balanced cauldrons.

'Mundungus!' said Hermione. 'What's he brought all those cauldrons for?'

'Probably looking for a sale place to keep them,' said Harry. 'Isn't that what he was doing the night he was supposed to be tailing me? Picking up dodgy cauldrons?'

'Yeah, you're right!' said Fred, as the front door opened; Mundungus heaved his cauldrons through it and disappeared from view. 'Blimey, Mum won't like that.'

He and George crossed to the door and stood beside it, listening closely. Mrs Black's screaming had stopped.

'Mundungus is talking to Sirius and Kingsley,' Fred muttered, frowning with concentration. 'Can't hear properly. d'you reckon we can risk the Extendable Ears?'

'Might be worth it,' said George. 'I could sneak upstairs and get a pair -'

But at that precise moment there was an explosion of sound from downstairs that rendered Extendable Ears quite unnecessary. All of them could hear exactly what Mrs Weasley was shouting at the top of her voice.

WE ARE NOT RUNNING A HIDEOUT FOR STOLEN GOODS!'

I love hearing Mum shouting at someone else,' said Fred, with a satisfied smile on his face as he opened the door an inch or so to allow Mrs Weasley's voice to permeate the room better, 'it makes such a nice change.'

'- COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE, AS IF WE HAVEN'T GOT ENOUGH TO WORRY ABOUT WITHOUT YOU DRAGGING STOLEN CAULDRONS INTO THE HOUSE -'

The idiots are letting her get into her stride,' said George, shaking his head. 'You've got to head her off early otherwise she builds up a head of steam and goes on for hours. And she's been dying to have a go at Mundungus ever since he sneaked off when he was supposed to be following you, Harry - and there goes Sirius's mum again.'

Mrs Weasley's voice was lost amid fresh shrieks and screams from the portraits in the hall.

George made to shut the door to drown the noise, but before he could do so, a house-elf edged into the room.

Except for the filthy rag tied like a loincloth around its middle, it was completely naked. It looked very old. Its skin seemed to be several times too big for it and, though it was bald like all house-elves, there was a quantity of white hair growing out of its large, batlike ears. Its eyes were a bloodshot and watery grey and its fleshy nose was large and rather snoutlike.

The elf took absolutely no notice of Harry and the rest. Acting as though it could not see them, it shuffled hunchbacked, slowly and doggedly, towards the far end of the room, all the while muttering under its breath in a hoarse, deep voice like a bullfrogs.

'. smells like a drain and a criminal to boot, but she's no better, nasty old blood traitor with her brats messing up my mistress's house, oh, my poor mistress, if she knew, if she knew the scum they've let into her house, what would she say to old Kreacher, oh, the shame of it, Mudbloods and werewolves and traitors and thieves, poor old Kreacher, what can he do.'

'Hello, Kreacher,' said Fred very loudly, closing the door with a snap.

The house-elf froze in his tracks, stopped muttering, and gave a very pronounced and very unconvincing start of surprise.

'Kreacher did not see young master,' he said, turning around and bowing to Fred. Still facing the carpet, he added, perfectly audibly, 'Nasty little brat of a blood traitor it is.'

'Sorry?' said George. 'Didn't catch that last bit.'

'Kreacher said nothing,' said the elf, with a second bow to George, adding in a clear undertone, 'and there's its twin, unnatural little beasts they are.'

Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not. The elf straightened up, eyeing them all malevolently, and apparently convinced that they could not hear him as he continued to mutter.

'. and there's the Mudblood, standing there bold as brass, oh, if my mistress knew, oh, how she'd cry, and there's a new boy, Kreacher doesn't know his name. What is he doing here? Kreacher doesn't know."

This is Harry, Kreacher,' said Herrmone tentatively. 'Harry Potter.'

Kreacher's pale eyes widened and he muttered faster and more furiously than ever.

The Mudblood is talking to Kreacher as though she is my friend, if Kreacher's mistress saw him in such company, oh, what would she say -'

'Don't call her a Mudblood!' said Ron and Ginny together, very angrily.

'It doesn't matter,' Hermione whispered, 'he's not in his right mind, he doesn't know what he's -'

'Don't kid yourself, Hermione, he knows exactly what he's saying,' said Fred, eyeing Kreacher with great dislike.

Kreacher was still muttering, his eyes on Harry.

'Is it true? Is it Harry Potter? Kreacher can see the scar, it must be true, that's the boy who stopped the Dark Lord, Kreacher wonders how he did it -'

'Don't we all, Kreacher,' said Fred.

'What do you want, anyway?' George asked.

Kreacher's huge eyes darted towards George.

'Kreacher is cleaning,' he said evasively.

'A likely story,' said a voice behind Harry.

Sirius had come back; he was glowering at the elf from the doorway. The noise in the hall had abated; perhaps Mrs Weasley and Mundungus had moved their argument down into the kitchen.

At the sight of Sirius, Kreacher flung himself into a ridiculously low bow that flattened his snoutltke nose on the floor.

'Stand up straight,' said Sirius impatiently. 'Now, what are you up to?'

'Kreacher is cleaning,' the elf repeated. 'Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black -'

'And it's getting blacker every day, it's filthy,' said Sirius.

'Master always liked his little joke,' said Kreacher, bowing again, and continuing in an undertone, 'Master was a nasty ungrateful swine who broke his mother's heart -'

'My mother didn't have a heart, Kreacher,' snapped Sirius. 'She kept herself alive out of pure spite.'

Kreacher bowed again as he spoke.

'Whatever Master says,' he muttered furiously. 'Master is not fit to wipe slime from his mother's boots, oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw Kreacher serving him, how she hated him, what a disappointment he was -'

'1 asked you what you were up to,' said Sirius coldly. 'Every time you show up pretending to be cleaning, you sneak something off to your room so we can't throw it out.'

'Kreacher would never move anything from its proper place in Master's house,' said the elf, then muttered very fast, 'Mistress would never forgive Kreacher if the tapestry was thrown out, seven centuries it's been in the family, Kreacher must save it, Kreacher will not let Master and the blood traitors and the brats destroy it -'

'I thought it might be that,' said Sirius, casting a disdainful look at the opposite wall. 'She'll have put another Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of it, I don't doubt, but if 1 can get rid of it I certainly will. Now go away, Kreacher.'

It seemed that Kreacher did not dare disobey a direct order; nevertheless, the look he gave Sirius as he shuffled out past him was full of deepest loathing and he muttered all the way out of the room.

'- comes back from Azkaban ordering Kreacher around, oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw the house now, scum living in it, her treasures thrown out, she swore he was no son of hers and he's back, they say he's a murderer too -'

'Keep muttering and I will be a murderer!' said Sirius irritably as he slammed the door shut on the elf.

'Sirius, he's not right in the head,' Hermione pleaded, '1 don't think he realises we can hear him.'

'He's been alone too long,' said Sirius, 'taking mad orders from my mother's portrait and talking to himself, but he was always a foul little -'

'If you could just set him free,' said Hermione hopefully, 'maybe -'

'We can't set him free, he knows too much about the Order,' said Sirius curtly. 'And anyway, the shock would kill him. You suggest to him that he leaves this house, see how he takes it.'

Sirius walked across the room to where the tapestry Kreacher had been trying to protect hung the length of the wall. Harry and the others followed.

The tapestry looked immensely old; it was faded and looked as though Doxys had gnawed it in places. Nevertheless, the golden thread with which it was embroidered still glinted brightly enough to show them a sprawling family tree dating back (as far as Harry could tell) to the Middle Ages. Large words at the very top of the tapestry read:

The Noble and Most Ancient House oj Black Toujours pur'

'You're not on here!' said Harry, after scanning the bottom of the tree closely.

'I used to be there,' said Sirius, pointing at a small, round, charred hole in the tapestry, rather like a cigarette burn. 'My sweet old mother blasted me off after I ran away from home - Kreacher's quite fond of muttering the story under his breath.'

'You ran away from home?'

'When I was about sixteen,' said Sirius. 'I'd had enough.'

'Where did you go?' asked Harry, staring at him.

'Your dad's place,' said Sirius. 'Your grandparents were really good about it; they sort of adopted me as a second son. Yeah, I camped out at your dad's in the school holidays, and when I was seventeen I got a place of my own. My Uncle Alphard had left me a decent bit of gold - he's been wiped off here, too, that's probably why - anyway, after that I looked after myself. I was always welcome at Mr and Mrs Potter's for Sunday lunch, though.'

'But. why did you. ?'

'Leave?' Sirius smiled bitterly and ran his fingers through his long, unkempt hair. 'Because I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal. my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them. that's him.'

Sirius jabbed a finger at the very bottom of the tree, at the name 'Regulus Black'. A date of death (some fifteen years previously) followed the date of birth.

'He was younger than me,' said Sirius, 'and a much better son, as 1 was constantly reminded.'

'But he died,' said Harry.

'Yeah,' said Sirius. 'Stupid idiot. he joined the Death Eaters.'

'You're kidding!'

'Come on, Harry, haven't you seen enough of this house to tell what kind of wizards my family were?' said Sirius testily.

'Were - were your parents Death Eaters as well?'

'No, no, but believe me, they thought Voldemort had the right idea, they were all for the purification of the wizarding race, getting rid of Muggle-borns and having pure-bloods in charge. They weren't alone, either, there were quite a few people, before Voldemort showed his true colours, who thought he had the right idea about things. they got cold feet when they saw what he was prepared to do to get power, though. But I bet my parents thought Regulus was a right little hero for joining up at first.'

'Was he killed by an Auror?' Harry asked tentatively.

'Oh, no,' said Sirius. 'No, he was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort's orders, more likely; I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don't just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It's a lifetime of service or death.'

'Lunch,' said Mrs Weasleys voice.

She was holding her wand high in front of her, balancing a huge tray loaded with sandwiches and cake on its tip. She was very red in the face and still looked angry. The others moved over to her, eager for some food, but Harry remained with Sirius, who had bent closer to the tapestry.

'I haven't looked at this for years. There's Phineas Nigellus. my great-great-grandfather, see?. least popular Headmaster Hogwarts ever had. and Araminta Mehflua. cousin of my mothers. tried to force through a Ministry Bill to make Muggle-hunting legal. and dear Aunt Elladora. she started the family tradition of beheading house-elves when they got too old to carry tea trays. of course, any time the family produced someone halfway decent they were disowned. I see Tonks isn't on here. Maybe that's why Kreacher won't take orders from her - he's supposed to do whatever anyone in the family asks him -'

'You and Tonks are related?' Harry asked, surprised.

'Oh, yeah, her mother Andromeda was my favourite cousin,' said Sirius, examining the tapestry closely. 'No, Andromeda's not on here either, look -'

He pointed to another small round burn mark between two names, Bellatrix and Narcissa.

'Andromeda's sisters are still here because they made lovely, respectable pure-blood marriages, but Andromeda married a Muggle-born, Ted Tonks, so -'

Sirius mimed blasting the tapestry with a wand and laughed sourly. Harry, however, did not laugh; he was too busy staring at the names to the right of Andromeda's burn mark. A double line of gold embroidery linked Narcissa Black with Lucius Malfoy and a single vertical gold line from their names led to the name Draco.

'You're related to the Malfoys!'

The pure-blood families are all interrelated,' said Sirius. Tf you're only going to let your sons and daughters marry pure-bloods your choice is very limited; there are hardly any of us left. Molly and I are cousins by marriage and Arthur's something like my second cousin once removed. But there's no point looking for them on here - if ever a family was a bunch of blood traitors it's the Weasleys.'

But Harry was now looking at the name to the left of Andromeda's burn: Bellatrix Black, which was connected by a double line to Rodolphus Lestrange.

'Lestrange.' Harry said aloud. The name had stirred something in his memory; he knew it from somewhere, but for a moment he couldn't think where, though it gave him an odd, creeping sensation in the pit of his stomach.

They're in Azkaban,' said Sirius shortly.

Harry looked at him curiously.

'Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus came in with Barty Crouch junior,' said Sirius, in the same brusque voice. 'Rodolphuss brother Rabastan was with them, too.'

Then Harry remembered. He had seen Bellatrix Lestrange inside Dumbledore's Pensieve, the strange device in which thoughts and memories could be stored: a tall dark woman with heavy-lidded eyes, who had stood at her trial and proclaimed her continuing allegiance to Lord Voldemort, her pride that she had tried to find him after his downfall and her conviction that she would one day be rewarded for her loyalty.

'You never said she was your -'

'Does it matter if she's my cousin?' snapped Sirius. 'As far as I'm concerned, they're not my family. She's certainly not my family. I haven't seen her since I was your age, unless you count a glimpse of her coming into Azkaban. D'you think I'm proud of having a relative like her?'

'Sorry,' said Harry quickly, 'I didn't mean - I was just surprised, that's all -'

'It doesn't matter, don't apologise,' Sirius mumbled. He turned away from the tapestry, his hands deep in his pockets. 'I don't like being back here,' he said, staring across the drawing room. 'I never thought I'd be stuck in this house again.'

Harry understood completely. He knew how he would feel, when he was grown up and thought he was free of the place for ever, to return and live at number four, Privet Drive.

'It's ideal for Headquarters, of course,' Sirius said. 'My father put every security measure known to wizardkind on it when he lived here. It's unplottable, so Muggles could never come and call - as if they'd ever have wanted to - and now Dumbledore's added his protection, you'd be hard put to find a safer house anywhere. Dumbledore is Secret Keeper for the Order, you know - nobody can find Headquarters unless he tells them personally where it is - that note Moody showed you last night, that was from Dumbledore.' Sirius gave a short, bark-like laugh. 'If my parents could see the use their house was being put to now. well, my mothers portrait should give you some idea

He scowled for a moment, then sighed.

'I wouldn't mind if I could just get out occasionally and do something useful. I've asked Dumbledore whether I can escort you to your hearing - as Snuffles, obviously - so I can give you a bit of moral support, what d'you think?'

Harry felt as though his stomach had sunk through the dusty carpet. He had not thought about the hearing once since dinner the previous evening; in the excitement of being back with the people he liked best, and hearing everything that was going on, it had completely flown his mind. At Sirius's words, however, the crushing sense of dread returned to him. He stared at Hermione and the Weasleys, all tucking into their sandwiches, and thought how he would feel if they went back to Hogwarts without him.

'Don't worry,' Sirius said. Harry looked up and realised that Sirius had been watching him. 'I'm sure they'll clear you, there's definitely something in the International Statute of Secrecy about being allowed to use magic to save your own life.'

'But if they do expel me,' said Harry quietly, 'can I come back here and live with you?'

Sirius smiled sadly.

'We'll see.'

'I'd feel a lot better about the hearing if I knew I didn't have to go back to the Dursleys',' Harry pressed him.

'They must be bad if you prefer this place,' said Sirius gloomily.

'Hurry up, you two, or there won't be any food left,' Mrs Weasley called.

Sirius heaved another great sigh, cast a dark look at the tapestry, then he and Harry went to join the others.

Harry tried his best not to think about the hearing while they emptied the glass-fronted cabinets that afternoon. Fortunately for him, it was a job that required a lot of concentration, as many of the objects in there seemed very reluctant to leave their dusty shelves. Sirius sustained a bad bite from a silver snuffbox; within seconds his bitten hand had developed an unpleasant crusty covering like a tough brown glove.

'Its OK,' he said, examining the hand with interest before tapping it lightly with his wand and restoring its skin to normal, 'must be Wartcap powder in there.'

He threw the box aside into the sack where they were depositing the debris from the cabinets; Harry saw George wrap his own hand carefully in a cloth moments later and sneak the box into his already Doxy-filled pocket.

They found an unpleasant-looking silver instrument, something like a many-legged pair of tweezers, which scuttled up Harrys arm like a spider when he picked it up, and attempted to puncture his skin. Sirius seized it and smashed it with a heavy book entitled Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. There was a musical box that emitted a faintly sinister, tinkling tune when wound, and they all found themselves becoming curiously weak and sleepy, until Ginny had the sense to slam the lid shut; a heavy locket that none of them could open; a number of ancient seals; and, in a dusty box, an Order of Merlin, First Class, that had been awarded to Sirius's grandfather for 'services to the Ministry'.

'It means he gave them a load of gold,' said Sirius contemptuously, throwing the medal into the rubbish sack.

Several times Kreacher sidled into the room and attempted to smuggle things away under his loincloth, muttering horrible curses every time they caught him at it. When Sirius wrested a large golden ring bearing the Black crest from his grip, Kreacher actually burst into furious tears and left the room sobbing under his breath and calling Sirius names Harry had never heard before.

'It was my father's,' said Sirius, throwing the ring into the sack. 'Kreacher wasn't quite as devoted to him as to my mother, but 1 still caught him snogging a pair of my father's old trousers last week.'

Weasley kept them all working very hard over the next few days. The drawing room took three days to decontaminate. Finally, the only undesirable things left in it were the tapestry of the Black family tree, which resisted all their attempts to remove it from the wall, and the rattling writing desk. Moody had not dropped by Headquarters yet, so they could not be sure what was inside it.

They moved from the drawing room to a dining room on the ground floor where they found spiders as large as saucers lurking in the dresser (Ron left the room hurriedly to make a cup of tea and did not return for an hour and a half). The china, which bore the Black crest and motto, was all thrown unceremoniously into a sack by Sirius, and the same fate met a set of old photographs in tarnished silver frames, all of whose occupants squealed shrilly as the glass covering them smashed.

Snape might refer to their work as 'cleaning', but in Harrys opinion they were really waging war on the house, which was putting up a very good fight, aided and abetted by Kreacher. The house-elf kept appearing wherever they were congregated, his muttering becoming more and more offensive as he attempted to remove anything he could from the rubbish sacks. Sirius went as far as to threaten him with clothes, but Kreacher fixed him with a watery stare and said, 'Master must do as Master wishes,' before turning away and muttering very loudly, 'but Master will not turn Kreacher away, no, because Kreacher knows what they are up to, oh yes, he is plotting against the Dark Lord, yes, with these Mudbloods and traitors and scum.'

At which Sirius, ignoring Hermione's protests, seized Kreacher by the back of his loincloth and threw him bodily from the room.

The doorbell rang several times a day, which was the cue for Sirius's mother to start shrieking again, and for Harry and the others to attempt to eavesdrop on the visitor, though they gleaned very little from the brief glimpses and snatches of conversation they were able to sneak before Mrs Weasley recalled them to their tasks. Snape flitted in and out of the house several times more, though to Harry's relief they never came face to face; Harry also caught sight of his Transfiguration teacher Professor McGonagall, looking very odd in a Muggle dress and coat, and she also seemed too busy to linger. Sometimes, however, the visitors stayed to help. Tonks joined them for a memorable afternoon in which they found a murderous old ghoul lurking in an upstairs toilet, and Lupin, who was staying in the house with Sirius but who left it for long periods to do mysterious work for the Order, helped them repair a grandfather clock that had developed the unpleasant habit of shooting heavy bolts at passers-by. Mundungus redeemed himself slightly in Mrs Weasley's eyes by rescuing Ron from an ancient set of purple robes that had tried to strangle him when he removed them from their wardrobe.

Despite the fact that he was still sleeping badly, still having dreams about corridors and locked doors that made his scar prickle, Harry was managing to have fun for the first time all summer. As long as he was busy he was happy; when the action abated, however, whenever he dropped his guard, or lay exhausted in bed watching blurred shadows move across the ceiling, the thought of the looming Ministry hearing returned to him. Fear jabbed at his insides like needles as he wondered what was going to happen to him if he was expelled. The idea was so terrible that he did not dare voice it aloud, not even to Ron and Hermione, who, though he often saw them whispering together and casting anxious looks in his direction, followed his lead in not mentioning it. Sometimes, he could not prevent his imagination showing him a faceless Ministry official who was snapping his wand in two and ordering him back to the Dursleys'. but he would not go. He was determined on that. He would come back here to Grimmauld Place and live with Sirius.

He felt as though a brick had dropped into his stomach when Mrs Weasley turned to him during dinner on Wednesday evening and said quietly, 'I've ironed your best clothes for tomorrow morning, Harry, and I want you to wash your hair tonight, too. A good first impression can work wonders.'

Ron, Hermione, Fred, George and Ginny all stopped talking and looked over at him. Harry nodded and tried to keep eating his chop, but his mouth had become so dry he could not chew.

'How am I getting there?' he asked Mrs Weasley, trying to sound unconcerned.

'Arthurs taking you to work with him,' said Mrs Weasley gently.

Mr Weasley smiled encouragingly at Harry across the table.

'You can wait in my office until it's time for the hearing,' he said.

Harry looked over at Sirius, but before he could ask the question, Mrs Weasley had answered it.

'Professor Dumbledore doesn't think it's a good idea for Sirius to go with you, and I must say I -'

'- think he's quite right,' said Sirius through clenched teeth.

Mrs Weasley pursed her lips.

'When did Dumbledore tell you that?' Harry said, staring at Sirius.

'He came last night, when you were in bed,' said Mr Weasley.

Sirius stabbed moodily at a potato with his fork. Harry lowered his own eyes to his plate. The thought that Dumbledore had been in the house on the eve of his hearing and not asked to see him made him feel, if it were possible, even worse.

- CHAPTER SIX -
The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black
Mrs Weasley followed them upstairs looking grim.

'I want you all to go straight to bed, no talking,' she said as they reached the first landing, 'we've got a busy day tomorrow. I expect Ginny's asleep,' she added to Hermione, 'so try not to wake her up.'

'Asleep, yeah, right,' said Fred in an undertone, after Hermione bade them goodnight and they were climbing to the next floor. 'If Ginny's not lying awake waiting for Hermione to tell her everything they said downstairs then I'm a Flobberworm.'

'All right, Ron, Harry,' said Mrs Weasley on the second landing, pointing them into their bedroom. 'Off to bed with you.'

'Night,' Harry and Ron said to the twins.

'Sleep tight,' said Fred, winking.

Mrs Weasley closed the door behind Harry with a sharp snap. The bedroom looked, if anything, even danker and gloomier than it had on first sight. The blank picture on the wall was now breathing very slowly and deeply, as though its invisible occupant was asleep. Harry put on his pyjamas, took off his glasses and climbed into his chilly bed while Ron threw Owl Treats up on top of the wardrobe to pacify Hedwig and Pigwidgeon, who were clattering around and rustling their wings restlessly.

'We can't let them out to hunt every night,' Ron explained as he pulled on his maroon pyjamas. 'Dumbledore doesn't want too many owls swooping around the square, thinks it'll look suspicious. Oh yeah. I forgot.'

He crossed to the door and bolted it.

'What're you doing that for?'

'Kreacher,' said Ron as he turned off the light. 'First night I was here he came wandering in at three in the morning. Trust me, you don't want to wake up and find him prowling around your room. Anyway.' he got into his bed, settled down under the covers then turned to look at Harry in the darkness; Harry could see his outline by the moonlight filtering in through the grimy window, 'what d'you reckon?'

Harry didn't need to ask what Ron meant.

'Well, they didn't tell us much we couldn't have guessed, did they?' he said, thinking of all that had been said downstairs. 'I mean, all they've really said is that the Order's trying to stop people joining Vol-'

There was a sharp intake of breath from Ron.

'-demort,' said Harry firmly. 'When are you going to start using his name? Sirius and Lupin do.'

Ron ignored this last comment.

'Yeah, you're right,' he said, 'we already knew nearly everything they told us, from using the Extendable Ears. The only new bit was -'

Crack.

'OUCH!'

'Keep your voice down, Ron, or Mum'll be back up here.'

'You two just Apparated on my knees!'

'Yeah, well, it's harder in the dark.'

Harry saw the blurred outlines of Fred and George leaping down from Ron's bed. There was a groan of bedsprings and Harry's mattress descended a few inches as George sat down near his feet.

'So, got there yet?' said George eagerly.

The weapon Sirius mentioned?' said Harry.

'Let slip, more like,' said Fred with relish, now sitting next to Ron. 'We didn't hear about that on the old Extendables, did we?'

'What d'you reckon it is?' said Harry.

'Could be anything,' said Fred.

'But there can't be anything worse than the Avada Kedavra Curse, can there?' said Ron. What's worse than death?'

'Maybe it's something that can kill loads of people at once,' suggested George.

'Maybe it's some particularly painful way of killing people,' said Ron fearfully.

'He's got the Cruciatus Curse for causing pain,' said Harry, 'he doesn't need anything more efficient than that.'

There was a pause and Harry knew that the others, like him, were wondering what horrors this weapon could perpetrate.

'So who d'you think's got it now?' asked George.

'I hope it's our side,' said Ron, sounding slightly nervous.

'If it is, Dumbledore's probably keeping it,' said Fred. *!

'Where?' said Ron quickly. 'Hogwarts?' .'

'Bet it is!' said George. That's where he hid the Philosopher's Stone.'

'A weapons going to be a lot bigger than the Stone, though!' said Ron.

'Not necessarily' said Fred.

'Yeah, size is no guarantee of power,' said George. 'Look at Ginny.'

'What d'you mean?' said Harry.

'You've never been on the receiving end of one of her Bat-Bogey Hexes, have you?'

'Shhh!' said Fred, half-rising irom the bed. 'Listen!'

They fell silent. Footsteps were coming up the stairs.

'Mum,' said George and without further ado there was a loud crack and Harry felt the weight vanish from the end of his bed. A few seconds later, they heard the floorboard creak outside their door; Mrs Weasley was plainly listening to check whether or not they were talking.

Hedwig and Pigwidgeon hooted dolefully. The floorboard creaked again and they heard her heading upstairs to check on Fred and George.

'She doesn't trust us at all, you know,' said Ron regretfully.

Harry was sure he would not be able to fall asleep; the evening had been so packed with things to think about that he fully expected to lie awake for hours mulling it all over. He wanted to continue talking to Ron, but Mrs Weasley was now creaking back downstairs again, and once she had gone he distinctly heard others making their way upstairs. in fact, many-legged creatures were cantering softly up and down outside the bedroom door, and Hagrid the Care of Magical Creatures teacher was saying, 'Beauties, arm they, eh, Harry? We'll be studyin' weapons this term ." and Harry saw that the creatures had cannons for heads and were wheeling to face him. he ducked.

The next thing he knew, he was curled into a warm ball under his bedclothes and Georges loud voice was filling the room.

'Mum says get up, your breakfast is in the kitchen and then she needs you in the drawing room, there are loads more Doxys than she thought and she's found a nest of dead Puffskeins under the sofa.'

Half an hour later Harry and Ron, who had dressed and breakfasted quickly, entered the drawing room, a long, high-ceilinged room on the first floor with olive green walls covered in dirty tapestries. The carpet exhaled little clouds of dust every time someone put their foot on it and the long, moss green velvet curtains were buzzing as though swarming with invisible bees. It was around these that Mrs Weasley, Hermione, Ginny, Fred and George were grouped, all looking rather peculiar as they had each tied a cloth over their nose and mouth. Each of them was also holding a large bottle of black liquid with a nozzle at the end.

'Cover your faces and take a spray,' Mrs Weasley said to Harry and Ron the moment she saw them, pointing to two more bottles of black liquid standing on a spindle-legged table. 'It's Doxycide. I've never seen an infestation this bad - what that house-elf's been doing for the last ten years -'

Hermione's face was half concealed by a tea towel but Harry distinctly saw her throw a reproachful look at Mrs Weasley.

'Kreacher's really old, he probably couldn't manage -'

'You'd be surprised what Kreacher can manage when he wants to, Hermione,' said Sirius, who had just entered the room carrying a bloodstained bag of what appeared to be dead rats. 'I've just been feeding Buckbeak,' he added, in reply to Harrys enquiring look. 'I keep him upstairs in my mothers bedroom. Anyway. this writing desk.'

He dropped the bag of rals into an armchair, then bent over Jo examine the locked cabinet which, Harry now noticed for the fulst time, was shaking slightly.

'Well, Molly, I'm pretty sure this is a Boggart,' said Sirius, peering through the keyhole, 'but perhaps we ought to let Mad-Eye have a shifty at it before we let it out - knowing my mother, it could be something much worse.'

'Right you are, Sirius,' said Mrs Weasley.

They were both speaking in carefully light, polite voices that told Harry quite plainly that neither had forgotten their disagreement of the night before.

A loud, clanging bell sounded from downstairs, followed at once by the cacophony of screams and wails that had been triggered the previous night by Tonks knocking over the umbrella stand.

'I keep telling them not to ring the doorbell!' said Sirius exas-peratedly, hurrying out of the room. They heard him thundering down the stairs as Mrs Black's screeches echoed up through the house once more:

'Stains, of dishonour, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth

'Close the door, please, Harry,' said Mrs Weasley.

Harry took as much time as he dared to close the drawing-room door; he wanted to listen to what was going on downstairs. Sirius had obviously managed to shut the curtains over his mother's portrait because she had stopped screaming. He heard Sirius walking down the hall, then the clattering of the chain on the front door, and then a deep voice he recognised as Kingsley Shacklebolt's saying, 'Hestia's just relieved me, so she's got Moody's Cloak now, thought I'd leave a report for Dumbledore.'

Feeling Mrs Weasley's eyes on the back of his head, Harry regretfully closed the drawing-room door and rejoined the Doxy party.

Mrs Weasley was bending over to check the page on Doxys in Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests, which was lying open on the sofa.

'Right, you lot, you need to be careful, because Doxys bite and their teeth are poisonous. I've got a bottle of antidote here, but I'd rather nobody needed it.'

She straightened up, positioned herself squarely in front of the curtains and beckoned them all forward.

'When I say the word, start spraying immediately,' she said. They'll come Hying out at us, I expect, but it says on the sprays one good squirt will paralyse them. When they're immobilised, just throw them in this bucket.'

She stepped carefully out of their line of fire, and raised her own spray.

'All right - squirt!'

Harry had been spraying only a few seconds when a fully-grown Doxy came soaring out of a fold in the material, shiny beetle-like wings whirring, tiny needle-sharp teeth bared, its fairy-like body covered with thick black hair and its four tiny lists clenched with fury. Harry caught it full in the face with a blast of Doxycide. It froze in midair and fell, with a surprisingly loud thunk, on to the worn carpet below. Harry picked it up and threw it in the bucket.

'Fred, what are you doing?' said Mrs Weasley sharply. 'Spray that at once and throw it away!'

Harry looked round. Fred was holding a struggling Doxy between his forefinger and thumb.

'Right-o,' Fred said brightly, spraying the Doxy quickly in the face so that it fainted, but the moment Mrs Weasley's back was turned he pocketed it with a wink.

'We want to experiment with Doxy venom for our Skiving Snackboxes,' George told Harry under his breath.

Deftly spraying two Doxys at once as they soared straight for his nose, Harry moved closer to George and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, 'What are Skiving Snackboxes?'

'Range of sweets to make you ill,' George whispered, keeping a wary eye on Mrs Weasley's back. 'Not seriously ill, mind, just ill enough to get you out of a class when you feel like it. Fred and I have been developing them this summer. They're double-ended, colour-coded chews. If you eat the orange half of the Puking Pastilles, you throw up. Moment you've been rushed out of the lesson for the hospital wing, you swallow the purple half -'

''- which restores you to full fitness, enabling you to pursue the leisure activity of your own choice during an hour that would otherwise have been devoted to unprofitable boredom." That's what we're putting in the adverts, anyway,' whispered Fred, who had edged over out of Mrs Weasley's line of vision and was now sweeping a few stray Doxys from the floor and adding them to his pocket. 'But they still need a bit of work. At the moment our testers are having a bit of trouble stopping themselves puking long enough to swallow the purple end.'

Testers?'

'Us,' said Fred. 'We take it in turns. George did the Fainting Fancies - we both tried the Nosebleed Nougat -'

'Mum thought we'd been duelling,' said George.

'Joke shop still on, then?' Harry muttered, pretending to be adjusting the nozzle on his spray.

'Well, we haven't had a chance to get premises yet,' said Fred, dropping his voice even lower as Mrs Weasley mopped her brow with her scarf before returning to the attack, 'so we're running it as a mail-order service at the moment. We put advertisements in the Daily Prophet last week.'

'All thanks to you, mate,' said George. 'But don't worry. Mum hasn't got a clue. She won't read the Daily Prophet any more, 'cause of it telling lies about you and Dumbledore.'

Harry grinned. He had forced the Weasley twins to take the thousand Galleons prize money he had won in the Triwizard Tournament to help them realise their ambition to open a joke shop, but he was still glad to know that his part in furthering their plans was unknown to Mrs Weasley. She did not think running a joke shop was a suitable career for two of her sons.

The de-Doxying of the curtains took most of the morning. It was past midday when Mrs Weasley finally removed her protective scarf, sank into a sagging armchair and sprang up again with a cry of disgust, having sat on the bag of dead rats. The curtains were no longer buzzing; they hung limp and damp from the intensive spraying. At the foot of them unconscious Doxys lay crammed in the bucket beside a bowl of their black eggs, at which Crook-shanks was now sniffing and Fred and George were shooting covetous looks.

'I think we'll tackle those after lunch.' Mrs Weasley pointed at the dusty glass-fronted cabinets standing on either side of the mantelpiece. They were crammed with an odd assortment of objects: a selection of rusty daggers, claws, a coiled snakeskin, a number of tarnished silver boxes inscribed with languages Harry could not understand and, least pleasant of all, an ornate crystal bottle with a large opal set into the stopper, full of what Harry was quite sure was blood.

The clanging doorbell rang again. Everyone looked at Mrs Weasley.

'Stay here,' she said firmly, snatching up the bag of rats as Mrs Black's screeches started up again from down below. I'll bring up some sandwiches.'

She left the room, closing the door carefully behind her. At once, everyone dashed over to the window to look down on the doorstep. They could see the top of an unkempt gingery head and a stack of precariously balanced cauldrons.

'Mundungus!' said Hermione. 'What's he brought all those cauldrons for?'

'Probably looking for a sale place to keep them,' said Harry. 'Isn't that what he was doing the night he was supposed to be tailing me? Picking up dodgy cauldrons?'

'Yeah, you're right!' said Fred, as the front door opened; Mundungus heaved his cauldrons through it and disappeared from view. 'Blimey, Mum won't like that.'

He and George crossed to the door and stood beside it, listening closely. Mrs Black's screaming had stopped.

'Mundungus is talking to Sirius and Kingsley,' Fred muttered, frowning with concentration. 'Can't hear properly. d'you reckon we can risk the Extendable Ears?'

'Might be worth it,' said George. 'I could sneak upstairs and get a pair -'

But at that precise moment there was an explosion of sound from downstairs that rendered Extendable Ears quite unnecessary. All of them could hear exactly what Mrs Weasley was shouting at the top of her voice.

WE ARE NOT RUNNING A HIDEOUT FOR STOLEN GOODS!'

I love hearing Mum shouting at someone else,' said Fred, with a satisfied smile on his face as he opened the door an inch or so to allow Mrs Weasley's voice to permeate the room better, 'it makes such a nice change.'

'- COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE, AS IF WE HAVEN'T GOT ENOUGH TO WORRY ABOUT WITHOUT YOU DRAGGING STOLEN CAULDRONS INTO THE HOUSE -'

The idiots are letting her get into her stride,' said George, shaking his head. 'You've got to head her off early otherwise she builds up a head of steam and goes on for hours. And she's been dying to have a go at Mundungus ever since he sneaked off when he was supposed to be following you, Harry - and there goes Sirius's mum again.'

Mrs Weasley's voice was lost amid fresh shrieks and screams from the portraits in the hall.

George made to shut the door to drown the noise, but before he could do so, a house-elf edged into the room.

Except for the filthy rag tied like a loincloth around its middle, it was completely naked. It looked very old. Its skin seemed to be several times too big for it and, though it was bald like all house-elves, there was a quantity of white hair growing out of its large, batlike ears. Its eyes were a bloodshot and watery grey and its fleshy nose was large and rather snoutlike.

The elf took absolutely no notice of Harry and the rest. Acting as though it could not see them, it shuffled hunchbacked, slowly and doggedly, towards the far end of the room, all the while muttering under its breath in a hoarse, deep voice like a bullfrogs.

'. smells like a drain and a criminal to boot, but she's no better, nasty old blood traitor with her brats messing up my mistress's house, oh, my poor mistress, if she knew, if she knew the scum they've let into her house, what would she say to old Kreacher, oh, the shame of it, Mudbloods and werewolves and traitors and thieves, poor old Kreacher, what can he do.'

'Hello, Kreacher,' said Fred very loudly, closing the door with a snap.

The house-elf froze in his tracks, stopped muttering, and gave a very pronounced and very unconvincing start of surprise.

'Kreacher did not see young master,' he said, turning around and bowing to Fred. Still facing the carpet, he added, perfectly audibly, 'Nasty little brat of a blood traitor it is.'

'Sorry?' said George. 'Didn't catch that last bit.'

'Kreacher said nothing,' said the elf, with a second bow to George, adding in a clear undertone, 'and there's its twin, unnatural little beasts they are.'

Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not. The elf straightened up, eyeing them all malevolently, and apparently convinced that they could not hear him as he continued to mutter.

'. and there's the Mudblood, standing there bold as brass, oh, if my mistress knew, oh, how she'd cry, and there's a new boy, Kreacher doesn't know his name. What is he doing here? Kreacher doesn't know."

This is Harry, Kreacher,' said Herrmone tentatively. 'Harry Potter.'

Kreacher's pale eyes widened and he muttered faster and more furiously than ever.

The Mudblood is talking to Kreacher as though she is my friend, if Kreacher's mistress saw him in such company, oh, what would she say -'

'Don't call her a Mudblood!' said Ron and Ginny together, very angrily.

'It doesn't matter,' Hermione whispered, 'he's not in his right mind, he doesn't know what he's -'

'Don't kid yourself, Hermione, he knows exactly what he's saying,' said Fred, eyeing Kreacher with great dislike.

Kreacher was still muttering, his eyes on Harry.

'Is it true? Is it Harry Potter? Kreacher can see the scar, it must be true, that's the boy who stopped the Dark Lord, Kreacher wonders how he did it -'

'Don't we all, Kreacher,' said Fred.

'What do you want, anyway?' George asked.

Kreacher's huge eyes darted towards George.

'Kreacher is cleaning,' he said evasively.

'A likely story,' said a voice behind Harry.

Sirius had come back; he was glowering at the elf from the doorway. The noise in the hall had abated; perhaps Mrs Weasley and Mundungus had moved their argument down into the kitchen.

At the sight of Sirius, Kreacher flung himself into a ridiculously low bow that flattened his snoutltke nose on the floor.

'Stand up straight,' said Sirius impatiently. 'Now, what are you up to?'

'Kreacher is cleaning,' the elf repeated. 'Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black -'

'And it's getting blacker every day, it's filthy,' said Sirius.

'Master always liked his little joke,' said Kreacher, bowing again, and continuing in an undertone, 'Master was a nasty ungrateful swine who broke his mother's heart -'

'My mother didn't have a heart, Kreacher,' snapped Sirius. 'She kept herself alive out of pure spite.'

Kreacher bowed again as he spoke.

'Whatever Master says,' he muttered furiously. 'Master is not fit to wipe slime from his mother's boots, oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw Kreacher serving him, how she hated him, what a disappointment he was -'

'1 asked you what you were up to,' said Sirius coldly. 'Every time you show up pretending to be cleaning, you sneak something off to your room so we can't throw it out.'

'Kreacher would never move anything from its proper place in Master's house,' said the elf, then muttered very fast, 'Mistress would never forgive Kreacher if the tapestry was thrown out, seven centuries it's been in the family, Kreacher must save it, Kreacher will not let Master and the blood traitors and the brats destroy it -'

'I thought it might be that,' said Sirius, casting a disdainful look at the opposite wall. 'She'll have put another Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of it, I don't doubt, but if 1 can get rid of it I certainly will. Now go away, Kreacher.'

It seemed that Kreacher did not dare disobey a direct order; nevertheless, the look he gave Sirius as he shuffled out past him was full of deepest loathing and he muttered all the way out of the room.

'- comes back from Azkaban ordering Kreacher around, oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw the house now, scum living in it, her treasures thrown out, she swore he was no son of hers and he's back, they say he's a murderer too -'

'Keep muttering and I will be a murderer!' said Sirius irritably as he slammed the door shut on the elf.

'Sirius, he's not right in the head,' Hermione pleaded, '1 don't think he realises we can hear him.'

'He's been alone too long,' said Sirius, 'taking mad orders from my mother's portrait and talking to himself, but he was always a foul little -'

'If you could just set him free,' said Hermione hopefully, 'maybe -'

'We can't set him free, he knows too much about the Order,' said Sirius curtly. 'And anyway, the shock would kill him. You suggest to him that he leaves this house, see how he takes it.'

Sirius walked across the room to where the tapestry Kreacher had been trying to protect hung the length of the wall. Harry and the others followed.

The tapestry looked immensely old; it was faded and looked as though Doxys had gnawed it in places. Nevertheless, the golden thread with which it was embroidered still glinted brightly enough to show them a sprawling family tree dating back (as far as Harry could tell) to the Middle Ages. Large words at the very top of the tapestry read:

The Noble and Most Ancient House oj Black Toujours pur'

'You're not on here!' said Harry, after scanning the bottom of the tree closely.

'I used to be there,' said Sirius, pointing at a small, round, charred hole in the tapestry, rather like a cigarette burn. 'My sweet old mother blasted me off after I ran away from home - Kreacher's quite fond of muttering the story under his breath.'

'You ran away from home?'

'When I was about sixteen,' said Sirius. 'I'd had enough.'

'Where did you go?' asked Harry, staring at him.

'Your dad's place,' said Sirius. 'Your grandparents were really good about it; they sort of adopted me as a second son. Yeah, I camped out at your dad's in the school holidays, and when I was seventeen I got a place of my own. My Uncle Alphard had left me a decent bit of gold - he's been wiped off here, too, that's probably why - anyway, after that I looked after myself. I was always welcome at Mr and Mrs Potter's for Sunday lunch, though.'

'But. why did you. ?'

'Leave?' Sirius smiled bitterly and ran his fingers through his long, unkempt hair. 'Because I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal. my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them. that's him.'

Sirius jabbed a finger at the very bottom of the tree, at the name 'Regulus Black'. A date of death (some fifteen years previously) followed the date of birth.

'He was younger than me,' said Sirius, 'and a much better son, as 1 was constantly reminded.'

'But he died,' said Harry.

'Yeah,' said Sirius. 'Stupid idiot. he joined the Death Eaters.'

'You're kidding!'

'Come on, Harry, haven't you seen enough of this house to tell what kind of wizards my family were?' said Sirius testily.

'Were - were your parents Death Eaters as well?'

'No, no, but believe me, they thought Voldemort had the right idea, they were all for the purification of the wizarding race, getting rid of Muggle-borns and having pure-bloods in charge. They weren't alone, either, there were quite a few people, before Voldemort showed his true colours, who thought he had the right idea about things. they got cold feet when they saw what he was prepared to do to get power, though. But I bet my parents thought Regulus was a right little hero for joining up at first.'

'Was he killed by an Auror?' Harry asked tentatively.

'Oh, no,' said Sirius. 'No, he was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort's orders, more likely; I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don't just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It's a lifetime of service or death.'

'Lunch,' said Mrs Weasleys voice.

She was holding her wand high in front of her, balancing a huge tray loaded with sandwiches and cake on its tip. She was very red in the face and still looked angry. The others moved over to her, eager for some food, but Harry remained with Sirius, who had bent closer to the tapestry.

'I haven't looked at this for years. There's Phineas Nigellus. my great-great-grandfather, see?. least popular Headmaster Hogwarts ever had. and Araminta Mehflua. cousin of my mothers. tried to force through a Ministry Bill to make Muggle-hunting legal. and dear Aunt Elladora. she started the family tradition of beheading house-elves when they got too old to carry tea trays. of course, any time the family produced someone halfway decent they were disowned. I see Tonks isn't on here. Maybe that's why Kreacher won't take orders from her - he's supposed to do whatever anyone in the family asks him -'

'You and Tonks are related?' Harry asked, surprised.

'Oh, yeah, her mother Andromeda was my favourite cousin,' said Sirius, examining the tapestry closely. 'No, Andromeda's not on here either, look -'

He pointed to another small round burn mark between two names, Bellatrix and Narcissa.

'Andromeda's sisters are still here because they made lovely, respectable pure-blood marriages, but Andromeda married a Muggle-born, Ted Tonks, so -'

Sirius mimed blasting the tapestry with a wand and laughed sourly. Harry, however, did not laugh; he was too busy staring at the names to the right of Andromeda's burn mark. A double line of gold embroidery linked Narcissa Black with Lucius Malfoy and a single vertical gold line from their names led to the name Draco.

'You're related to the Malfoys!'

The pure-blood families are all interrelated,' said Sirius. Tf you're only going to let your sons and daughters marry pure-bloods your choice is very limited; there are hardly any of us left. Molly and I are cousins by marriage and Arthur's something like my second cousin once removed. But there's no point looking for them on here - if ever a family was a bunch of blood traitors it's the Weasleys.'

But Harry was now looking at the name to the left of Andromeda's burn: Bellatrix Black, which was connected by a double line to Rodolphus Lestrange.

'Lestrange.' Harry said aloud. The name had stirred something in his memory; he knew it from somewhere, but for a moment he couldn't think where, though it gave him an odd, creeping sensation in the pit of his stomach.

They're in Azkaban,' said Sirius shortly.

Harry looked at him curiously.

'Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus came in with Barty Crouch junior,' said Sirius, in the same brusque voice. 'Rodolphuss brother Rabastan was with them, too.'

Then Harry remembered. He had seen Bellatrix Lestrange inside Dumbledore's Pensieve, the strange device in which thoughts and memories could be stored: a tall dark woman with heavy-lidded eyes, who had stood at her trial and proclaimed her continuing allegiance to Lord Voldemort, her pride that she had tried to find him after his downfall and her conviction that she would one day be rewarded for her loyalty.

'You never said she was your -'

'Does it matter if she's my cousin?' snapped Sirius. 'As far as I'm concerned, they're not my family. She's certainly not my family. I haven't seen her since I was your age, unless you count a glimpse of her coming into Azkaban. D'you think I'm proud of having a relative like her?'

'Sorry,' said Harry quickly, 'I didn't mean - I was just surprised, that's all -'

'It doesn't matter, don't apologise,' Sirius mumbled. He turned away from the tapestry, his hands deep in his pockets. 'I don't like being back here,' he said, staring across the drawing room. 'I never thought I'd be stuck in this house again.'

Harry understood completely. He knew how he would feel, when he was grown up and thought he was free of the place for ever, to return and live at number four, Privet Drive.

'It's ideal for Headquarters, of course,' Sirius said. 'My father put every security measure known to wizardkind on it when he lived here. It's unplottable, so Muggles could never come and call - as if they'd ever have wanted to - and now Dumbledore's added his protection, you'd be hard put to find a safer house anywhere. Dumbledore is Secret Keeper for the Order, you know - nobody can find Headquarters unless he tells them personally where it is - that note Moody showed you last night, that was from Dumbledore.' Sirius gave a short, bark-like laugh. 'If my parents could see the use their house was being put to now. well, my mothers portrait should give you some idea

He scowled for a moment, then sighed.

'I wouldn't mind if I could just get out occasionally and do something useful. I've asked Dumbledore whether I can escort you to your hearing - as Snuffles, obviously - so I can give you a bit of moral support, what d'you think?'

Harry felt as though his stomach had sunk through the dusty carpet. He had not thought about the hearing once since dinner the previous evening; in the excitement of being back with the people he liked best, and hearing everything that was going on, it had completely flown his mind. At Sirius's words, however, the crushing sense of dread returned to him. He stared at Hermione and the Weasleys, all tucking into their sandwiches, and thought how he would feel if they went back to Hogwarts without him.

'Don't worry,' Sirius said. Harry looked up and realised that Sirius had been watching him. 'I'm sure they'll clear you, there's definitely something in the International Statute of Secrecy about being allowed to use magic to save your own life.'

'But if they do expel me,' said Harry quietly, 'can I come back here and live with you?'

Sirius smiled sadly.

'We'll see.'

'I'd feel a lot better about the hearing if I knew I didn't have to go back to the Dursleys',' Harry pressed him.

'They must be bad if you prefer this place,' said Sirius gloomily.

'Hurry up, you two, or there won't be any food left,' Mrs Weasley called.

Sirius heaved another great sigh, cast a dark look at the tapestry, then he and Harry went to join the others.

Harry tried his best not to think about the hearing while they emptied the glass-fronted cabinets that afternoon. Fortunately for him, it was a job that required a lot of concentration, as many of the objects in there seemed very reluctant to leave their dusty shelves. Sirius sustained a bad bite from a silver snuffbox; within seconds his bitten hand had developed an unpleasant crusty covering like a tough brown glove.

'Its OK,' he said, examining the hand with interest before tapping it lightly with his wand and restoring its skin to normal, 'must be Wartcap powder in there.'

He threw the box aside into the sack where they were depositing the debris from the cabinets; Harry saw George wrap his own hand carefully in a cloth moments later and sneak the box into his already Doxy-filled pocket.

They found an unpleasant-looking silver instrument, something like a many-legged pair of tweezers, which scuttled up Harrys arm like a spider when he picked it up, and attempted to puncture his skin. Sirius seized it and smashed it with a heavy book entitled Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. There was a musical box that emitted a faintly sinister, tinkling tune when wound, and they all found themselves becoming curiously weak and sleepy, until Ginny had the sense to slam the lid shut; a heavy locket that none of them could open; a number of ancient seals; and, in a dusty box, an Order of Merlin, First Class, that had been awarded to Sirius's grandfather for 'services to the Ministry'.

'It means he gave them a load of gold,' said Sirius contemptuously, throwing the medal into the rubbish sack.

Several times Kreacher sidled into the room and attempted to smuggle things away under his loincloth, muttering horrible curses every time they caught him at it. When Sirius wrested a large golden ring bearing the Black crest from his grip, Kreacher actually burst into furious tears and left the room sobbing under his breath and calling Sirius names Harry had never heard before.

'It was my father's,' said Sirius, throwing the ring into the sack. 'Kreacher wasn't quite as devoted to him as to my mother, but 1 still caught him snogging a pair of my father's old trousers last week.'

Weasley kept them all working very hard over the next few days. The drawing room took three days to decontaminate. Finally, the only undesirable things left in it were the tapestry of the Black family tree, which resisted all their attempts to remove it from the wall, and the rattling writing desk. Moody had not dropped by Headquarters yet, so they could not be sure what was inside it.

They moved from the drawing room to a dining room on the ground floor where they found spiders as large as saucers lurking in the dresser (Ron left the room hurriedly to make a cup of tea and did not return for an hour and a half). The china, which bore the Black crest and motto, was all thrown unceremoniously into a sack by Sirius, and the same fate met a set of old photographs in tarnished silver frames, all of whose occupants squealed shrilly as the glass covering them smashed.

Snape might refer to their work as 'cleaning', but in Harrys opinion they were really waging war on the house, which was putting up a very good fight, aided and abetted by Kreacher. The house-elf kept appearing wherever they were congregated, his muttering becoming more and more offensive as he attempted to remove anything he could from the rubbish sacks. Sirius went as far as to threaten him with clothes, but Kreacher fixed him with a watery stare and said, 'Master must do as Master wishes,' before turning away and muttering very loudly, 'but Master will not turn Kreacher away, no, because Kreacher knows what they are up to, oh yes, he is plotting against the Dark Lord, yes, with these Mudbloods and traitors and scum.'

At which Sirius, ignoring Hermione's protests, seized Kreacher by the back of his loincloth and threw him bodily from the room.

The doorbell rang several times a day, which was the cue for Sirius's mother to start shrieking again, and for Harry and the others to attempt to eavesdrop on the visitor, though they gleaned very little from the brief glimpses and snatches of conversation they were able to sneak before Mrs Weasley recalled them to their tasks. Snape flitted in and out of the house several times more, though to Harry's relief they never came face to face; Harry also caught sight of his Transfiguration teacher Professor McGonagall, looking very odd in a Muggle dress and coat, and she also seemed too busy to linger. Sometimes, however, the visitors stayed to help. Tonks joined them for a memorable afternoon in which they found a murderous old ghoul lurking in an upstairs toilet, and Lupin, who was staying in the house with Sirius but who left it for long periods to do mysterious work for the Order, helped them repair a grandfather clock that had developed the unpleasant habit of shooting heavy bolts at passers-by. Mundungus redeemed himself slightly in Mrs Weasley's eyes by rescuing Ron from an ancient set of purple robes that had tried to strangle him when he removed them from their wardrobe.

Despite the fact that he was still sleeping badly, still having dreams about corridors and locked doors that made his scar prickle, Harry was managing to have fun for the first time all summer. As long as he was busy he was happy; when the action abated, however, whenever he dropped his guard, or lay exhausted in bed watching blurred shadows move across the ceiling, the thought of the looming Ministry hearing returned to him. Fear jabbed at his insides like needles as he wondered what was going to happen to him if he was expelled. The idea was so terrible that he did not dare voice it aloud, not even to Ron and Hermione, who, though he often saw them whispering together and casting anxious looks in his direction, followed his lead in not mentioning it. Sometimes, he could not prevent his imagination showing him a faceless Ministry official who was snapping his wand in two and ordering him back to the Dursleys'. but he would not go. He was determined on that. He would come back here to Grimmauld Place and live with Sirius.

He felt as though a brick had dropped into his stomach when Mrs Weasley turned to him during dinner on Wednesday evening and said quietly, 'I've ironed your best clothes for tomorrow morning, Harry, and I want you to wash your hair tonight, too. A good first impression can work wonders.'

Ron, Hermione, Fred, George and Ginny all stopped talking and looked over at him. Harry nodded and tried to keep eating his chop, but his mouth had become so dry he could not chew.

'How am I getting there?' he asked Mrs Weasley, trying to sound unconcerned.

'Arthurs taking you to work with him,' said Mrs Weasley gently.

Mr Weasley smiled encouragingly at Harry across the table.

'You can wait in my office until it's time for the hearing,' he said.

Harry looked over at Sirius, but before he could ask the question, Mrs Weasley had answered it.

'Professor Dumbledore doesn't think it's a good idea for Sirius to go with you, and I must say I -'

'- think he's quite right,' said Sirius through clenched teeth.

Mrs Weasley pursed her lips.

'When did Dumbledore tell you that?' Harry said, staring at Sirius.

'He came last night, when you were in bed,' said Mr Weasley.

Sirius stabbed moodily at a potato with his fork. Harry lowered his own eyes to his plate. The thought that Dumbledore had been in the house on the eve of his hearing and not asked to see him made him feel, if it were possible, even worse.

CHAPTER NINE -
The Woes of Mrs Weasky
Dumbledore's abrupt departure took Harry completely by surprise. He remained sitting where he was in the chained chair, struggling with his feelings of shock and relief. The Wizengamot were all getting to their feet, talking, gathering up their papers and packing them away. Harry stood up. Nobody seemed to be paying him the slightest bit of attention, except the toadlike witch on Fudge's right, who was now gazing down at him instead of at Dumbledore. Ignoring her, he tried to catch Fudge's eye, or Madam Bones's, wanting to ask whether he was free to go, but Fudge seemed quite determined not to notice Harry, and Madam Bones was busy with her briefcase, so he took a few tentative steps towards the exit and, when nobody called him back, broke into a very fast walk.

He took the last few steps at a run, wrenched open the door and almost collided with Mr Weasley, who was standing right outside, looking pale and apprehensive.

'Dumbledore didn't say -'

'Cleared,' Harry said, pulling the door closed behind him, 'of all charges!'

Beaming, Mr Weasley seized Harry by the shoulders.

'Harry, that's wonderful! Well, of course, they couldn't have found you guilty, not on the evidence, but even so, 1 can't pretend I wasn't -'

But Mr Weasley broke off, because the courtroom door had just opened again. The Wizengamot were filing out.

'Merlin's beard!' exclaimed Mr Weasley wonderingly, pulling Harry aside to let them all pass. 'You were tried by the full court?'

'I think so,' said Harry quietly.

One or two of the wizards nodded to Harry as they passed and a few, including Madam Bones, said, 'Morning, Arthur,' to Mr Weasley, but most averted their eyes. Cornelius Fudge and the toadlike witch were almost the last to leave the dungeon. Fudge acted as though Mr Weasley and Harry were part of the wall, but again, the witch looked almost appraisingly at Harry as she passed. Last of all to pass was Percy. Like Fudge, he completely ignored his father and Harry; he marched past clutching a large roll of parchment and a handful of spare quills, his back rigid and his nose in the air. The lines around Mr Weasleys mouth tightened slightly, but other than this he gave no sign that he had seen his third son.

'I'm going to take you straight back so you can tell the others the good news,' he said, beckoning Harry forwards as Percy's heels disappeared up the steps to Level Nine. Til drop you off on the way to that toilet in Bethnal Green. Come on."

'So, what will you have to do about the toilet?' Harry asked, grinning. Everything suddenly seemed five times funnier than usual. It was starting to sink in: he was cleared, he was going back to Hogwarts.

'Oh, its a simple enough anti-jinx,' said Mr Weasley as they mounted the stairs, 'but it's not so much having to repair the damage, its more the attitude behind the vandalism, Harry. Muggle-baiting might strike some wizards as funny, but it's an expression of something much deeper and nastier, and I for one -'

Mr Weasley broke off in mid-sentence. They had just reached the ninth-level corridor and Cornelius Fudge was standing a few feet away from them, talking quietly to a tall man with sleek blond hair and a pointed, pale face.

The second man turned at the sound of their footsteps. He, too, broke off in mid-conversation, his cold grey eyes narrowed and fixed upon Harry's face.

'Well, well, well. Patronus Potter,' said Lucius Malfoy coolly.

Harry felt winded, as though he had just walked into something solid. He had last seen those cold grey eyes through slits in a Death Eaters hood, and last heard that man's voice jeering in a dark graveyard while Lord Voldemort tortured him. Harry could not believe that Lucius Malfoy dared look him in the face; he could not believe that he was here, in the Ministry of Magic, or that Cornelius Fudge was talking to him, when Harry had told Fudge mere weeks ago that Malfoy was a Death Eater.

'The Minister was just telling me about your lucky escape, Potter,' drawled Mr Malfoy. 'Quite astonishing, the way you continue to wriggle out of very tight holes. snakelike, in fact.'

Mr Weasley gripped Harry's shoulder in warning.

'Yeah,' said Harry, 'yeah, I'm good at escaping.'

Lucius Malfoy raised his eyes to Mr Weasley's face.

'And Arthur Weasley too! What are you doing here, Arthur?'

'I work here,' said Mr Weasley curtly.

'Not here, surely?' said Mr Malfoy, raising his eyebrows and glancing towards the door over Mr Weasley's shoulder. 'I thought you were up on the second floor. don't you do something that involves sneaking Muggle artefacts home and bewitching them?'

'No,' Mr Weasley snapped, his fingers now biting into Harrys shoulder.

What are you doing here, anyway?' Harry asked Lucius Malfoy.

'I don't think private matters between myself and the Minister are any concern of yours, Potter,' said Malfoy, smoothing the front of his robes. Harry distinctly heard the gentle clinking of what sounded like a full pocket of gold. 'Really, just because you are Dumbledore's favourite boy, you must not expect the same indulgence from the rest of us. shall we go up to your office, then, Minister?'

'Certainly' said Fudge, turning his back on Harry and Mr Weasley. This way, Lucius.'

They strode off together, talking in low voices. Mr Weasley did not let go of Harry's shoulder until they had disappeared into the lift.

Why wasn't he waiting outside Fudge's office if they've got business to do together?' Harry burst out furiously. What was he doing down here?'

'Trying to sneak down to the courtroom, if you ask me,' said Mr Weasley, looking extremely agitated and glancing over his shoulder as though making sure they could not be overheard. Trying

One or two of the wizards nodded to Harry as they passed and a few, including Madam Bones, said, 'Morning, Arthur,' to Mr Weasley, but most averted their eyes. Cornelius Fudge and the toadlike witch were almost the last to leave the dungeon. Fudge acted as though Mr Weasley and Harry were part of the wall, but again, the witch looked almost appraisingly at Harry as she passed. Last of all to pass was Percy. Like Fudge, he completely ignored his father and Harry; he marched past clutching a large roll of parchment and a handful of spare quills, his back rigid and his nose in the air. The lines around Mr Weasley's mouth tightened slightly, but other than this he gave no sign that he had seen his third son.

'I'm going to take you straight back so you can tell the others the good news,' he said, beckoning Harry forwards as Percy's heels disappeared up the steps to Level Nine. Til drop you off on the way to that toilet in Bethnal Green. Come on."

'So, what will you have to do about the toilet?' Harry asked, grinning. Everything suddenly seemed five times funnier than usual. It was starting to sink in: he was cleared, he was going back to Hogwarts.

'Oh, it's a simple enough anti-jinx,' said Mr Weasley as they mounted the stairs, 'but it's not so much having to repair the damage, it's more the attitude behind the vandalism, Harry. Muggle-baiting might strike some wizards as funny, but it's an expression of something much deeper and nastier, and I for one -'

Mr Weasley broke off in mid-sentence. They had just reached the ninth-level corridor and Cornelius Fudge was standing a few feet away from them, talking quietly to a tall man with sleek blond hair and a pointed, pale face.

The second man turned at the sound of their footsteps. He, too, broke off in mid-conversation, his cold grey eyes narrowed and fixed upon Harry's face.

'Well, well, well. Patronus Potter,' said Lucius Malfoy coolly.

Harry felt winded, as though he had just walked into something solid. He had last seen those cold grey eyes through slits in a Death Eaters hood, and last heard that man's voice jeering in a dark graveyard while Lord Voldemort tortured him. Harry could not believe that Lucius Malfoy dared look him in the face; he could not believe that he was here, in the Ministry of Magic, or that Cornelius Fudge was talking to him, when Harry had told Fudge mere weeks ago that Malfoy was a Death Eater.

The Minister was just telling me about your lucky escape, Potter,' drawled Mr Malfoy. 'Quite astonishing, the way you continue to wriggle out of very tight holes. snakdike, in fact.'

Mr Weasley gripped Harry's shoulder in warning.

'Yeah,' said Harry, 'yeah, I'm good at escaping.'

Lucius Malfoy raised his eyes to Mr Weasley's face.

'And Arthur Weasley too! What are you doing here, Arthur?'

'I work here,' said Mr Weasley curtly.

'Not here, surely?' said Mr Malfoy, raising his eyebrows and glancing towards the door over Mr Weasley's shoulder. 'I thought you were up on the second floor. don't you do something that involves sneaking Muggle artefacts home and bewitching them?'

'No,' Mr Weasley snapped, his fingers now biting into Harry's shoulder.

'What are you doing here, anyway?' Harry asked Lucius Malfoy.

'I don't think private matters between myself and the Minister are any concern of yours, Potter,' said Malfoy, smoothing the front of his robes. Harry distinctly heard the gentle clinking of what sounded like a full pocket of gold. 'Really, just because you are Dumbledore's favourite boy, you must not expect the same indulgence from the rest of us. shall we go up to your office, then, Minister?'

'Certainly' said Fudge, turning his back on Harry and Mr Weasley. This way, Lucius.'

They strode off together, talking in low voices. Mr Weasley did not let go of Harry's shoulder until they had disappeared into the lift.

'Why wasn't he waiting outside Fudge's office if they've got business to do together?' Harry burst out furiously. 'What was he doing down here?'

'Trying to sneak down to the courtroom, if you ask me,' said Mr Weasley, looking extremely agitated and glancing over his shoulder as though making sure they could not be overheard. Trying to find out whether you'd been expelled or not. I'll leave a note for Dumbledore when I drop you off, he ought to know Malfoys been talking to Fudge again.'

'What private business have they got together, anyway?'

'Gold, I expect,' said Mr Weasley angrily. 'Malfoy's been giving generously to all sorts of things for years. gets him in with the right people. then he can ask favours. delay laws he doesn't want passed. oh, he's very well-connected, Lucius Malfoy.'

The lift arrived; it was empty except for a flock of memos that flapped around Mr Weasley's head as he pressed the button for the Atrium and the doors clanged shut. He waved them away irritably.

'Mr Weasley' said Harry slowly, 'if Fudge is meeting Death Eaters like Malfoy, if he's seeing them alone, how do we know they haven't put the Imperius Curse on him?'

'Don't think it hasn't occurred to us, Harry' said Mr Weasley quietly. 'But Dumbledore thinks Fudge is acting of his own accord at the moment - which, as Dumbledore says, is not a lot of comfort. Best not talk about it any more just now, Harry.'

The doors slid open and they stepped out into the now almost-deserted Atrium. Eric the watchwizard was hidden behind his Daily Prophet again. They had walked straight past the golden fountain before Harry remembered.

'Wait.' he told Mr Weasley, and, pulling his moneybag Irom his pocket, he turned back to the fountain.

He looked up into the handsome wizard's face, but close-to Harry thought he looked rather weak and foolish. The witch was wearing a vapid smile like a beauty contestant, and from what Harry knew of goblins and centaurs, they were most unlikely to be caught staring so soppily at humans of any description. Only the house-elf's attitude of creeping servility looked convincing. With a grin at the thought of what Hermione would say if she could see the statue of the elf, Harry turned his moneybag upside-down and emptied not just ten Galleons, but the whole contents into the pool.

*

'I knew it!' yelled Ron, punching the air. 'You always get away with stuff!'

They were bound to clear you,' said Hermione, who had looked positively faint with anxiety when Harry had entered the kitchen and was now holding a shaking hand over her eyes, 'there was no case against you, none at all.'

'Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering you all knew I'd get off,' said Harry, smiling.

Mrs Weasley was wiping her face on her apron, and Fred, George and Ginny were doing a kind of war dance to a chant that went: 'He got off, he got off, he got off."

That's enough! Settle down!' shouted Mr Weasley, though he too was smiling. 'Listen, Sirius, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry -'

'What?' said Sirius sharply.

'He got off, he got off, he got off."

'Be quiet, you three! Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on Level Nine, then they went up to Fudge's office together. Dumbledore ought to know.'

'Absolutely,' said Sirius. 'We'll tell him, don't worry.'

'Well, I'd better get going, there's a vomiting toilet waiting for me in Bethnal Green. Molly, I'll be late, I'm covering for Tonks, but Kingsley might be dropping in for dinner -'

'He got off, he got off, he got off."

That's enough - Fred - George - Ginny!' said Mrs Weasley, as Mr Weasley left the kitchen. 'Harry, dear, come and sit down, have some lunch, you hardly ate breakfast.'

Ron and Hermione sat themselves down opposite him, looking happier than they had done since he had first arrived at Grimmauld Place, and Harry's feeling of giddy relief, which had been somewhat dented by his encounter with Lucius Malfoy, swelled again. The gloomy house seemed warmer and more welcoming all of a sudden; even Kreacher looked less ugly as he poked his snoutlike nose into the kitchen to investigate the source of all the noise.

'Course, once Dumbledore turned up on your side, there was no way they were going to convict you,' said Ron happily, now dishing great mounds of mashed potato on to everyone's plates.

'Yeah, he swung it for me,' said Harry. He felt it would sound highly ungrateful, not to mention childish, to say, 'I wish he'd talked to me, though. Or even looked at me.'

And as he thought this, the scar on his forehead burned so badly that he clapped his hand to it.

'What's up?' said Hermione, looking alarmed.

'Scar,' Harry mumbled. 'But it's nothing. it happens all the time now.'

None of the others had noticed a thing; all of them were now helping themselves to food while gloating over Harrys narrow escape; Fred, George and Ginny were still singing. Hermione looked rather anxious, but before she could say anything, Ron had said happily, 'I bet Dumbledore turns up this evening, to celebrate with us, you know.'

'I don't think he'll be able to, Ron,' said Mrs Weasley, setting a huge plate of roast chicken down in front of Harry. 'He's really very busy at the moment.'

'HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF

'SHUT UP!' roared Mrs Weasley.

*

Over the next few days Harry could not help noticing that there was one person within number twelve, Grimmauld Place, who did not seem wholly overjoyed that he would be returning to Hogwarts. Sirius had put up a very good show of happiness on first hearing the news, wringing Harry's hand and beaming just like the rest of them. Soon, however, he was moodier and surlier than before, talking less to everybody, even Harry, and spending increasing amounts of time shut up in his mother's room with Buckbeak.

'Don't you go feeling guilty!' said Hermione sternly, after Harry had confided some of his feelings to her and Ron while they scrubbed out a mouldy cupboard on the third floor a few days later. 'You belong at Hogwarts and Sirius knows it. Personally, I think he's being selfish.'

That's a bit harsh, Hermione,' said Ron, frowning as he attempted to prise off a bit of mould that had attached itself firmly to his finger, 'you wouldn't want to be stuck inside this house without any company.'

'He'll have company!' said Hermione. 'It's Headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, isn't it? He just got his hopes up that Harry would be coming to live here with him.'

don't think that's true/ said Harry, wringing out his cloth. 'He wouldn't give me a straight answer when I asked him if 1 could.'

'He just didn't want to get his own hopes up even more,' said Hermione wisely. 'And he probably felt a bit guilty himself, because I think a part of him was really hoping you'd be expelled. Then you'd both be outcasts together.'

'Come off it!' said Harry and Ron together, but Hermione merely shrugged.

'Suit yourselves. But I sometimes think Rons mums right and Sirius gets confused about whether you're you or your father, Harry.'

'So you think he's touched in the head?' said Harry heatedly.

'No, I just think he's been very lonely for a long time,' said Hermione simply.

At this point, Mrs Weasley entered the bedroom behind them.

'Still not finished?' she said, poking her head into the cupboard.

'I thought you might be here to tell us to have a break!' said Ron bitterly. 'D'you know how much mould we've got rid of since we arrived here?'

'You were so keen to help the Order,' said Mrs Weasley, 'you can do your bit by making Headquarters fit to live in.'

'I feel like a house-elf,' grumbled Ron.

'Well, now you understand what dreadful lives they lead, perhaps you'll be a bit more active in SPEW!' said Hermione hopefully, as Mrs Weasley left them to it. 'You know, maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to show people exactly how horrible it is to clean all the time - we could do a sponsored scrub ol Gryffindor common room, all proceeds to SPEW, it would raise awareness as well as funds.'

'I'll sponsor you to shut up about SPEW,' Ron muttered irritably, but only so Harry could hear him.

*

Harry found himself daydreaming about Hogwarts more and more as the end of the holidays approached; he could not wait to see Hagrid again, to play Quidditch, even to stroll across the vegetable patches to the Herbology greenhouses; it would be a treat just to leave this dusty, musty house, where half of the cupboards were still bolted shut and Kreacher wheezed insults out of the shadows as you passed, though Harry was careful not to say any of this within earshot of Sirius.

The fact was that living at the Headquarters of the anti-Voldemort movement was not nearly as interesting or exciting as Harry would have expected before he'd experienced it. Though members of the Order of the Phoenix came and went regularly, sometimes staying for meals, sometimes only for a few minutes of whispered conversation, Mrs Weasley made sure that Harry and the others were kept well out of earshot (whether Extendable or normal) and nobody, not even Sirius, seemed to feel that Harry needed to know anything more than he had heard on the night of his arrival.

On the very last day of the holidays Harry was sweeping up Hedwigs owl droppings from the top of the wardrobe when Ron entered their bedroom carrying a couple of envelopes.

'Booklists have arrived,' he said, throwing one of the envelopes up to Harry, who was standing on a chair. 'About time, I thought they'd forgotten, they usually come much earlier than this."

Harry swept the last of the droppings into a rubbish bag and threw the bag over Ron's head into the wastepaper basket in the corner, which swallowed it and belched loudly. He then opened his letter. It contained two pieces of parchment: one the usual reminder that term started on the first of September; the other telling him which books he would need for the coming year.

'Only two new ones,' he said, reading the list, The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5, by Miranda Goshawk, and Defensive Magical Theory, by Wilbert Slinkhard.'

Crack.

Fred and George Apparated right beside Harry. He was so used to them doing this by now that he didn't even fall off his chair.

'We were just wondering who set the Slinkhard book,' said Fred conversationally.

'Because it means Dumbledore's found a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,' said George.

'And about time too,' said Fred.

'What d'you mean?' Harry asked, jumping down beside them.

'Well, we overheard Mum and Dad talking on the Extendable Ears a few weeks back,' Fred told Harry, 'and from what they were saying, Dumbledore was having real trouble finding anyone to do the job this year.

'Not surprising, is it, when you look at what's happened to the last four?' said George.

'One sacked, one dead, one's memory removed and one locked in a trunk for nine months,' said Harry, counting them off on his fingers. 'Yeah, I see what you mean.'

'What's up with you, Ron?' asked Fred.

Ron did not answer. Harry looked round. Ron was standing very still with his mouth slightly open, gaping at his letter from Hogwarts.

'What's the matter?' said Fred impatiently, moving around Ron to look over his shoulder at the parchment.

Fred's mouth fell open, too.

'Prefect?' he said, staring incredulously at the letter. 'Prefect?'

George leapt forwards, seized the envelope in Ron's other hand and turned it upside-down. Harry saw something scarlet and gold fall into George's palm.

'No way,' said George in a hushed voice.

There's been a mistake,' said Fred, snatching the letter out of Ron's grasp and holding it up to the light as though checking for a watermark. 'No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect.'

The twins' heads turned in unison and both of them stared at Harry.

'We thought you were a cert!' said Fred, in a tone that suggested Harry had tricked them in some way.

'We thought Dumbledore was bound to pick you!' said George indignantly.

'Winning the Triwizard and everything!' said Fred.

'I suppose all the mad stuff must've counted against him,' said George to Fred.

'Yeah,' said Fred slowly. 'Yeah, you've caused too much trouble, mate. Well, at least one of you's got their priorities right.'

He strode over to Harry and clapped him on the back while giving Ron a scathing look.

'Prefect. ickle Ronnie the Prefect.'

'Ohh, Mum's going to be revolting,' groaned George, thrusting the prefect badge back at Ron as though it might contaminate him.

Ron, who still had not said a word, took the badge, stared at it for a moment, then held it out to Harry as though asking mutely for confirmation that it was genuine. Harry took it. A large T' was superimposed on the Gryffindor lion. He had seen a badge just like this on Percys chest on his very first day at Hogwarts.

The door banged open. Hermione came tearing into the room, her cheeks flushed and her hair flying. There was an envelope in her hand.

'Did you - did you get -?'

She spotted the badge in Harry's hand and let out a shriek.

'] knew it!' she said excitedly, brandishing her letter. 'Me too, Harry, me too!'

'No,' said Harry quickly, pushing the badge back into Ron's hand. 'It's Ron, not me.' :

'It - what?' i-

'Ron's prefect, not me,' Harry said.

'Ron?' said Hermione, her jaw dropping. 'But. are you sure? I mean -'

She turned red as Ron looked round at her with a defiant expression on his face.

'Its my name on the letter,' he said.

'I.' said Hermione, looking thoroughly bewildered. '1. well. wow! Well done, Ron! That's really -'

'Unexpected,' said George, nodding.

'No,' said Hermione, blushing harder than ever, 'no it's not. Ron's done loads of. he's really.'

The door behind her opened a little wider and Mrs Weasley backed into the room carrying a pile of freshly laundered robes.

'Ginny said the booklists had come at last,' she said, glancing around at all the envelopes as she made her way over to the bed and started sorting the robes into two piles. 'If you give them to me I'll take them over to Diagon Alley this afternoon and get your books while you're packing. Ron, I'll have to get you more pyjamas, these are at least six inches too short, I can't believe how fast you're growing. what colour would you like?'

Tut WOES OF MRS WEASLEY

'Get him red and gold to match his badge,' said George, smirking.

'Match his what?' said Mrs Weasley absently, rolling up a pair of maroon socks and placing them on Ron's pile.

'His badge,' said Fred, with the air of getting the worst over quickly. 'His lovely shiny new prefect's badge.'

Fred's words took a moment to penetrate Mrs Weasley's preoccupation with pyjamas.

'His. but. Ron, you're not.?'

Ron held up his badge.

Mrs Weasley let out a shriek just like Hermione's.

'I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That's everyone in the family!'

'What are Fred and I, next-door neighbours?' said George indignantly, as his mother pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son.

'Wait until your father hears! Ron, I'm so proud of you, what wonderful news, you could end up Head Boy just like Bill and Percy, it's the first step! Oh, what a thing to happen in the middle of all this worry, I'm just thrilled, oh, Ronnie -

Fred and George were both making loud retching noises behind her back but Mrs Weasley did not notice; arms tight around Ron's neck, she was kissing him all over his face, which had turned a brighter scarlet than his badge.

'Mum. don't. Mum, get a grip.' he muttered, trying to push her away.

She let go of him and said breathlessly, 'Well, what will it be? We gave Percy an owl, but you've already got one, of course.'

W-what do you mean?' said Ron, looking as though he did not dare believe his ears.

'You've got to have a reward for this!' said Mrs Weasley fondly. 'How about a nice new set of dress robes?'

'We've already bought him some,' said Fred sourly, who looked as though he sincerely regretted this generosity.

'Or a new cauldron, Charlies old one's rusting through, or a new rat, you always liked Scabbers -'

'Mum,' said Ron hopefully, 'can I have a new broom?'

Mrs Weasley's face fell slightly; broomsticks were expensive.

'Not a really good one!' Ron hastened to add. 'Just -just a new one for a change."

Mrs Weasley hesitated, then smiled.

'Of course you can. well, I'd better get going if I've got a broom to buy too. I'll see you all later. little Ronnie, a prefect! And don't forget to pack your trunks. a prefect. oh, I'm all of a dither!'

She gave Ron yet another kiss on the cheek, sniffed loudly, and bustled from the room.

Fred and George exchanged looks.

'You don't mind if we don't kiss you, do you, Ron?' said Fred in a falsely anxious voice.

'We could curtsey, if you like,' said George.

'Oh, shut up,' said Ron, scowling at them.

'Or what?' said Fred, an evil grin spreading across his face. 'Going to put us in detention?'

I'd love to see him try,' sniggered George.

'He could if you don't watch out!' said Hermione angrily.

Fred and George burst out laughing, and Ron muttered, 'Drop it, Hermione.'

'We're going to have to watch our step, George,' said Fred, pretending to tremble, 'with these two on our case.'

'Yeah, it looks like our law-breaking days are finally over,' said George, shaking his head.

And with another loud crack, the twins Disapparated.

Those two!' said Hermione furiously, staring up at the ceiling, through which they could now hear Fred and George roaring with laughter in the room upstairs. 'Don't pay any attention to them, Ron, they're only jealous!'

'I don't think they are,' said Ron doubtfully, also looking up at the ceiling. They've always said only prats become prefects. still,' he added on a happier note, 'they've never had new brooms! I wish I could go with Mum and choose. she'll never be able to afford a Nimbus, but there's the new Cleansweep out, that'd be great. yeah, I think I'll go and tell her I like the Cleansweep, just so she knows

He dashed from the room, leaving Harry and Hermione alone.

For some reason, Harry found he did not want to look at

THE WOES OF MRS WE A SLEY 1^

Hermione. He turned to his bed, picked up the pile of clean robes Mrs Weasley had laid on it and crossed the room to his trunk.

'Harry?' said Hermione tentatively.

'Well done, Hermione,' said Harry, so heartily it did not sound like his voice at all, and, still not looking at her, 'brilliant. Prefect. Great.'

Thanks,' said Hermione. 'Erm - Harry - could I borrow Hedwig so I can tell Mum and Dad? They'll be really pleased - I mean prefect is something they can understand.'

'Yeah, no problem,' said Harry, still in the horrible hearty voice that did not belong to him. Take her!'

He leaned over his trunk, laid the robes on the bottom of it and pretended to be rummaging for something while Hermione crossed to the wardrobe and called Hedwig down. A few moments passed; Harry heard the door close but remained bent double, listening; the only sounds he could hear were the blank picture on the wall sniggering again and the wastepaper basket in the corner coughing up the owl droppings.

He straightened up and looked behind him. Hermione had left and Hedwig had gone. Harry hurried across the room, closed the door, then returned slowly to his bed and sank on to it, gazing unseeingly at the foot of the wardrobe.

He had forgotten completely about prefects being chosen in the fifth year. He had been too anxious about the possibility of being expelled to spare a thought for the fact that badges must be winging their way towards certain people. But if he had remembered. if he had thought about it. what would he have expected?

Not this, said a small and truthful voice inside his head.

Harry screwed up his face and buried it in his hands. He could not lie to himself; if he had known the prefect badge was on its way, he would have expected it to come to him, not Ron. Did this make him as arrogant as Draco Malfoy? Did he think himself superior to everyone else? Did he really believe he was better than Ron?

No, said the small voice defiantly.

Was that true? Harry wondered, anxiously probing his own feelings.

I'm better at Quidditch, said the voice. But I'm not better at anything else.

That was definitely true, Harry thought; he was no better than Ron in lessons. But what about outside lessons? What about those adventures he, Ron and Hermione had had together since starting at Hogwarts, often risking much worse than expulsion?

Well, Ron and Hermione were with me most of the time, said the voice in Harry's head.

Not all the time, though, Harry argued with himself. They didn't fight Quirrell with me. They didn't take on Riddle and the Basilisk. They didn't get rid of all those Dementors the night Sirius escaped. They weren't in that graveyard with me, the night Voldemort returned.

And the same feeling of ill-usage that had overwhelmed him on the night he had arrived rose again. I've definitely done more, Harry thought indignantly. I've done more than either of them!

But maybe, said the small voice fairly, maybe Dumbledore doesn't choose prefects because they've got themselves into a load of dangerous situations. maybe he chooses them for other reasons. Ron must have something you don't.

Harry opened his eyes and stared through his fingers at the wardrobe's clawed feet, remembering what Fred had said: 'No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect.'

Harry gave a small snort of laughter. A second later he felt sickened with himself.

Ron had not asked Dumbledore to give him the prefect badge. This was not Ron's fault. Was he, Harry, Ron's best friend in the world, going to sulk because he didn't have a badge, laugh with the twins behind Ron's back, ruin this for Ron when, for the first time, he had beaten Harry at something?

At this point Harry heard Ron's footsteps on the stairs again. He stood up, straightened his glasses, and hitched a grin on to his face as Ron bounded back through the door.

'Just caught her!' he said happily. 'She says she'll get the Cleansweep if she can.'

'Cool,' Harry said, and he was relieved to hear that his voice had stopped sounding hearty. 'Listen - Ron - well done, mate.'

The smile faded off Ron's face.

'I never thought it would be me!' he said, shaking his head. 'I thought it would be you!'

'Nah, I've caused too much trouble,' Harry said, echoing Fred.

'Yeah,' said Ron, 'yeah, I suppose. well, we'd better get our trunks packed, hadn't we?'

It was odd how widely their possessions seemed to have scattered themselves since they had arrived. It took them most of the afternoon to retrieve their books and belongings from all over the house and stow them back inside their school trunks. Harry noticed that Ron kept moving his prefects badge around, first placing it on his bedside table, then putting it into his jeans pocket, then taking it out and lying it on his folded robes, as though to see the effect of the red on the black. Only when Fred and George dropped in and offered to attach it to his forehead with a Permanent Sticking Charm did he wrap it tenderly in his maroon socks and lock it in his trunk.

Mrs Weasley returned from Diagon Alley around six o'clock, laden with books and carrying a long package wrapped in thick brown paper that Ron took from her with a moan of longing.

'Never mind unwrapping it now, people are arriving for dinner, 1 want you all downstairs,' she said, but the moment she was out of sight Ron ripped off the paper in a frenzy and examined every inch of his new broom, an ecstatic expression on his face.

Down in the basement Mrs Weasley had hung a scarlet banner over the heavily laden dinner table, which read:

CONGRATULATIONS

RON AND HERMIONE

NEW PREFECTS

She looked in a better mood than Harry had seen her all holiday.

'I thought we'd have a little party, not a sit-down dinner,' she told Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George and Ginny as they entered the room. 'Your father and Bill are on their way, Ron. I've sent them both owls and they're thrilled,' she added, beaming.

Fred rolled his eyes.

Sirius, Lupin, Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt were already there and Mad-Eye Moody stumped in shortly after Harry had got himself a Butterbeer.

'Oh, Alastor, I am glad you're here,' said Mrs Weasley brightly, as Mad-Eye shrugged off his travelling cloak. 'We've been wanting to ask you for ages - could you have a look in the writing desk in the drawing room and tell us what's inside it? We haven't wanted to open it just in case it's something really nasty.'

'No problem, Molly.'

Moody's electric-blue eye swivelled upwards and stared fixedly through the ceiling of the kitchen.

'Drawing room.' he growled, as the pupil contracted. 'Desk in the corner? Yeah, I see it. yeah, it's a Boggart. want me to go up and get rid of it, Molly?'

'No, no, I'll do it myself later,' beamed Mrs Weasley, 'you have your drink. We're having a little bit of a celebration, actually.' She gestured at the scarlet banner. 'Fourth prefect in the family!' she said fondly, ruffling Ron's hair.

'Prefect, eh?' growled Moody, his normal eye on Ron and his magical eye swivelling around to gaze into the side of his head. Harry had the very uncomfortable feeling it was looking at him and moved away towards Sirius and Lupin.

Well, congratulations,' said Moody, still glaring at Ron with his normal eye, 'authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he wouldn't have appointed you.'

Ron looked rather startled at this view of the matter but was saved the trouble of responding by the arrival of his father and eldest brother. Mrs Weasley was in such a good mood she did not even complain that they had brought Mundungus with them; he was wearing a long overcoat that seemed oddly lumpy in unlikely places and declined the offer to remove it and put it with Moody's travelling cloak.

Well, I think a toast is in order,' said Mr Weasley, when everyone had a drink. He raised his goblet. To Ron and Hermione, the new Gryffindor prefects!'

Ron and Hermione beamed as everyone drank to them, and then applauded.

'I was never a prefect myself,' said Tonks brightly from behind Harry as everybody moved towards the table to help themselves to food. Her hair was tomato red and waist-length today; she looked like Ginny's older sister. 'My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities.'

'Like what?' said Ginny, who was choosing a baked potato.

'Like the ability to behave myself,' said Tonks.

Ginny laughed; Hermione looked as though she did not know whether to smile or not and compromised by taking an extra large gulp of Butterbeer and choking on it.

'What about you, Sirius?' Ginny asked, thumping Hermione on the back.

Sirius, who was right beside Harry, let out his usual bark-like laugh.

'No one would have made me a prefect, I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge.'

'I think Dumbledore might have hoped I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends,' said Lupin. 'I need scarcely say that 1 failed dismally.'

Harry's mood suddenly lifted. His father had not been a prefect either. All at once the party seemed much more enjoyable; he loaded up his plate, feeling doubly fond of everyone in the room.

Ron was rhapsodising about his new broom to anybody who would listen.

'. nought to seventy in ten seconds, not bad, is it? When you think the Comet Two Ninety's only nought to sixty and that's with a decent tailwind according to Which Broomstick?'

Hermione was talking very earnestly to Lupin about her view of elf rights.

'I mean, it's the same kind of nonsense as werewolf segregation, isn't it? It all stems from this horrible thing wizards have of thinking they're superior to other creatures."

Mrs Weasley and Bill were having their usual argument about Bill's hair.

'. getting really out of hand, and you're so good-looking, it would look much better shorter, wouldn't it, Harry?'

'Oh - I dunno -' said Harry, slightly alarmed at being asked his opinion; he slid away from them in the direction of Fred and George, who were huddled in a corner with Mundungus.

Mundungus stopped talking when he saw Harry, but Fred winked and beckoned Harry closer.

'Its OK,' he told Mundungus, 'we can trust Harry, he's our financial backer.'

'Look what Dung's got us,' said George, holding out his hand to Harry. It was full of what looked like shrivelled black pods. A faint rattling noise was coming from them, even though they were completely stationary.

'Venomous Tentacula seeds,' said George. 'We need them for the Skiving Snackboxes but they're a Class C Non-Tradeable Substance so we've been having a bit of trouble getting hold of them.'

Ten Galleons the lot, then. Dung?' said Fred.

'Wiv all the trouble 1 went to to get 'em?' said Mundungus, his saggy, bloodshot eyes stretching even wider. 'I'm sorry, lads, but I'm not taking a Knut under twenty.'

'Dung likes his little joke,' Fred said to Harry.

'Yeah, his best one so far has been six Sickles for a bag of Knarl quills,' said George.

'Be careful,' Harry warned them quietly.

'What?' said Fred. 'Mum's busy cooing over Prefect Ron, we're OK.'

'But Moody could have his eye on you,' Harry pointed out.

Mundungus looked nervously over his shoulder.

'Good point, that,' he grunted. 'All right, lads, ten it is, if you'll take 'em quick;

'Cheers, Harry!' said Fred delightedly, when Mundungus had emptied his pockets into the twins' outstretched hands and scuttled off towards the food. 'We'd better get these upstairs.'

Harry watched them go, feeling slightly uneasy. It had just occurred to him that Mr and Mrs Weasley would want to know how Fred and George were financing their joke shop business when, as was inevitable, they finally found out about it. Giving l he twins his Triwizard winnings had seemed a simple thing to do at the time, but what if it led to another family row and a Percy-like estrangement? Would Mrs Weasley still feel that Harry was as

Tut Woi - OF MR- WEASIEY

good as her son il she lound out he had made it possible for Fred and George to start a career she thought quite unsuitable?

Standing where the twins had left him, with nothing but a guilty weight in the pit ol his stomaeh tor eompany, Harry caught the sound ol his own name. Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep voice was audible even over the surrounding chatter.

'. why Dumbledore didn't make Potter a prefect?' said Kingsley.

'He'll have had his reasons,' replied Lupin.

'But it would've shown confidence in him. It's what I'd've done,' persisted Kingsley, 'specially with the Daily Prophet having a go at him every few days."

Harry did not look round; he did not want Lupin or Kingsley to know he had heard. Though not remotely hungry, he followed Mundungus back towards the table. His pleasure in the party had evaporated as quickly as it had come; he wished he were upstairs in bed.

Mad-Eye Moody was sniffing at a chicken-leg with what remained of his nose; evidently he could not detect any trace of poison, because he then tore a strip off it with his teeth.

'. the handles made of Spanish oak with anti-jinx varnish and in-built vibration control -' Ron was saying to Tonks.

Mrs Weasley yawned widely.

'Well, I think I'll sort out that Boggart before I turn in. Arthur, 1 don't want this lot up too late, all right? Night, Harry, dear.'

She left the kitchen. Harry set down his plate and wondered whether he could follow her without attracting attention.

'You all right, Potter?' grunted Moody.

'Yeah, fine,' lied Harry.

Moody took a swig from his hipflask, his electric-blue eye staring sideways at Harry.

'Come here, I've got something that might interest you,' he said.

From an inner pocket of his robes Moody pulled a very tattered old wizarding photograph.

'Original Order of the Phoenix,' growled Moody. 'Found it last night when I was looking for my spare Invisibility Cloak, seeing as Podmore hasn't had the manners to return my best one. thought people might like to see it.'

Harry took the photograph. A small crowd of people, some waving at him, others lifting their glasses, looked back up at him.

There's me,' said Moody, unnecessarily pointing at himself. The Moody in the picture was unmistakeable, though his hair was slightly less grey and his nose was intact. 'And there's Dumbledore beside me, Dedalus Diggle on the other side. that's Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family. That's Frank and Alice Longbottom -'

Harrys stomach, already uncomfortable, clenched as he looked at Alice Longbottom; he knew her round, friendly face very well, even though he had never met her, because she was the image of her son, Neville.

'- poor devils,' growled Moody. 'Better dead than what happened to them. and that's Emmeline Vance, you've met her, and that there's Lupin, obviously. Benjy Fenwick, he copped it too, we only ever found bits of him. shift aside there,' he added, poking the picture, and the little photographic people edged sideways, so that those who were partially obscured could move to the front.

That's Edgar Bones. brother of Amelia Bones, they got him and his family, too, he was a great wizard. Sturgis Podmore, blimey, he looks young. Caradoc Dearborn, vanished six months after this, we never found his body. Hagrid, of course, looks exactly the same as ever. Elphias Doge, you've met him, I'd forgotten he used to wear that stupid hat. Gideon Prewett, it took five Death Eaters to kill him and his brother Fabian, they fought like heroes. budge along, budge along.'

The little people in the photograph jostled among themselves and those hidden right at the back appeared at the forefront of the picture.

That's Dumbledore's brother Aberforth, only time 1 ever met him, strange bloke. that's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally. Sirius, when he still had short hair. and. there you go, thought that would interest you!'

Harry's heart turned over. His mother and father were beaming up at him, sitting on either side of a small, watery-eyed man whom Harry recognised at once as Wormtail, the one who had betrayed his parents' whereabouts to Voldemort and so helped to bring about their deaths.

'Eh?' said Moody.

Harry looked up into Moody's heavily scarred and pitted face. Evidently Moody was under the impression he had just given Harry a bit of a treat.

'Yeah,' said Harry, once again attempting to grin. 'Er. listen, I've just remembered, I haven't packed my.'

He was spared the trouble of inventing an object he had not packed. Sirius had just said, 'What's that you've got there, Mad-Eye?' and Moody had turned towards him. Harry crossed the kitchen, slipped through the door and up the stairs before anyone could call him back.

He did not know why it had been such a shock; he had seen pictures of his parents before, after all, and he had met Wormtail but to have them sprung on him like that, when he was least expecting it. no one would like that, he thought angrily.

And then, to see them surrounded by all those other happy faces. Benjy Eenwick, who had been found in bits, and Gideon Prewett, who had died like a hero, and the Longbottoms, who had been tortured into madness. all waving happily out of the photograph forever more, not knowing that they were doomed. well, Moody might find that interesting. he, Harry, found it disturbing.

Harry tiptoed up the stairs in the hall past the stuffed elf-heads, glad to be on his own again, but as he approached the first landing he heard noises. Someone was sobbing in the drawing room.

'Hello?' Harry said.

There was no answer but the sobbing continued. He climbed the remaining stairs two at a time, walked across the landing and opened the drawing-room door.

Someone was cowering against the dark wall, her wand in her hand, her whole body shaking with sobs. Sprawled on the dusty old carpet in a patch of moonlight, clearly dead, was Ron.

All the air seemed to vanish from Harry's lungs; he felt as though he were falling through the floor; his brain turned icy cold - Ron dead, no, it couldn't be -

But wait a moment, it couldn't be - Ron was downstairs -

HARRY Po i TER

'Mrs Weasley?' Harry croaked.

'R - r - riddikulus!' Mrs Weasley sobbed, pointing her shaking wand at Ron's body.

Crack.

Ron's body turned into Bill's, spread-eagled on his back, his eyes wide open and empty. Mrs Weasley sobbed harder than ever.

'R - riddikulus!' she sobbed again.

Crack.

Mr Weasley's body replaced Bill's, his glasses askew, a trickle of blood running down his face.

'No!' Mrs Weasley moaned. 'No. riddikulus] Riddikulus! RID-DlKULUSr

Crack. Dead twins. Crack. Dead Percy. Crack. Dead Harry.

'Mrs Weasley, just get out of here!' shouted Harry, staring down at his own dead body on the floor. 'Let someone else -'

'What's going on?'

Lupin had come running into the room, closely followed by Sirius, with Moody stumping along behind them. Lupin looked from Mrs Weasley to the dead Harry on the tloor and seemed to understand in an instant. Pulling out his own wand, he said, very urmly and clearly:

'Riddikulus!'

Harry's body vanished. A silvery orb hung in the air over the spot where it had lain. Lupin waved his wand once more and the orb vanished in a puff of smoke.

'Oh - oh - oh!' gulped Mrs Weasley, and she broke into a storm of crying, her face in her hands.

'Molly,' said Lupin bleakly, walking over to her. 'Molly don't."

Next second, she was sobbing her heart out on Lupin's shoulder.

'Molly, it was just a Boggart,' he said soothingly, patting her on the head, 'just a stupid Boggart.'

'I see them d-d - dead all the time!' Mrs Weasley moaned into his shoulder. 'All the't -'t - time! 1 d - d - dream about it.'

Sirius was staring at the patch of carpet where the Boggart, pretending to be Harry's body, had lain. Moody was looking at Harry, who avoided his gaze. He had a funny feeling Moody's magical eye had followed him all the way out of the kitchen.

THEWOFS OF MRS WEASLEY

'D-d - don't tell Arthur,' Mrs Weasley was gulping now, mopping her eyes frantically with her cuffs. 'I d - d - don't want him to know. being silly.'

Lupin handed her a handkerchief and she blew her nose.

'Harry, I'm so sorry. What must you think of me?' she said shakily. 'Not even able to get rid of a Boggart.'

'Don't be stupid,' said Harry, trying to smile.

'I'm just's -'s - so worried,' she said, tears spilling out of her eyes again. 'Half the f - f - family's in the Order, it'll b - b - be a miracle if we all come through this. and P - P - Percys not talking to us. what if something d-d - dreadful happens and we've never in - in - made it up with him? And what's going to happen if Arthur and I get killed, who's g - g - going to look after Ron and Ginny?'

'Molly that's enough; said Lupin firmly. 'This isn't like last time. The Order are better prepared, we've got a head start, we know what Voldemorts up to -'

Mrs Weasley gave a little squeak of fright at the sound of the name.

'Oh, Molly, come on, it's about time you got used to hearing his name - look, I can't promise no one's going to get hurt, nobody can promise that, but we're much better off than we were last time. You weren't in the Order then, you don't understand. Last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one.'

Harry thought of the photograph again, of his parents' beaming faces. He knew Moody was still watching him.

'Don't worry about Percy' said Sirius abruptly. 'He'll come round. It's only a matter of time before Voldemort moves into the open; once he does, the whole Ministry's going to be begging us to forgive them. And I'm not sure I'll be accepting their apology,' he added bitterly.

'And as for who's going to look after Ron and Ginny if you and Arthur died,' said Lupin, smiling slightly, 'what do you think we'd do, let them starve?'

Mrs Weasley smiled tremulously.

'Being silly,' she muttered again, mopping her eyes.

But Harry, closing his bedroom door behind him some ten

HARRY Pun ER

minutes later, could not think Mrs Weasley silly. He could still see his parents beaming up at him from the tattered old photograph, unaware that their lives, like so many of those around them, were drawing to a close. The image of the Boggart posing as the corpse of each member of Mrs Weasley's family in turn kept flashing before his eyes.

Without warning, the scar on his forehead seared with pain again and his stomach churned horribly.

'Cut it out,' he said firmly, rubbing the scar as the pain receded.

'First sigh of madness, talking to your own head,' said a sly voice from the empty picture on the wall.

Harry ignored it. He felt older than he had ever felt in his lite and it seemed extraordinary to him that barely an hour ago he had been worried about a joke shop and who had got a prefects badge.

Then the whispering stopped. Harry wanted to look up at the judges, but found that it was really much, much easier to keep examining his laces.

Those in favour of clearing the witness of all charges?' said Madam Boness booming voice.

Harrys head jerked upwards. There were hands in the air, many of them. more than half! Breathing very fast, he tried to count, but before he could finish, Madam Bones had said, 'And those in favour of conviction?'

Fudge raised his hand; so did half a dozen others, including the witch on his right and the heavily-moustached wizard and the frizzy-haired witch in the second row.

Fudge glanced around at them all, looking as though there was something large stuck in his throat, then lowered his own hand. He took two deep breaths and said, in a voice distorted by suppressed rage, 'Very well, very well. cleared of all charges.'

'Excellent,' said Dumbledore briskly, springing to his feet, pulling out his wand and causing the two chintz armchairs to vanish. 'Well, I must be getting along. Good-day to you all.'

And without looking once at Harry, he swept from the dungeon.

- CHAPTER ELEVEN -
The Sorting Hat's New Song
Harry did not want to tell the others that he and Luna were having the same hallucination, if that was what it was, so he said nothing more about the horses as he sal down inside the carriage and slammed the door behind him. Nevertheless, he could not help watching the silhouettes of the horses moving beyond the window.

'Did everyone see that Grubbly-Plank woman?' asked Ginny. 'What's she doing back here? Hagrid can't have left, can he?'

Til be quite glad if he has,' said Luna, 'he isn't a very good teacher, is he?'

'Yes, he is!' said Harry, Ron and Ginny angrily.

Harry glared at Hermione. She cleared her throat and quickly said, 'Erin. yes. he's very good.'

'Well, we in Ravenclaw think he's a bit of a joke,' said Luna, unlazed.

'You've got a rubbish sense of humour then,' Ron snapped, as the wheels below them creaked into motion.

Luna did not seem perturbed by Ron's rudeness; on the contrary, she simply watched him for a while as though he were a mildly interesting television programme.

Rattling and swaying, the carriages moved in convoy up the road. When they passed between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars on either side of the gates to the school grounds, Harry leaned forwards to try and see whether there were any lights on in Hagrid's cabin by the Forbidden Forest, but the grounds were in complete darkness. Hogwarts Castle, however, loomed ever

closer: a towering mass of turrets, jet black against the dark sky, here and there a window blazing fiery bright above them.

The carriages jingled to a halt near the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors and Harry got out of the carriage first. He turned again to look for lit windows down by the Forest, but there was definitely no sign of life within Hagrids cabin. Unwillingly, because he had half-hoped they would have vanished, he turned his eyes instead upon the strange, skeletal creatures standing quietly in the chill night air, their blank white eyes gleaming.

Harry had once before had the experience of seeing something that Ron could not, but that had been a reflection in a mirror, something much more insubstantial than a hundred very solid-looking beasts strong enough to pull a fleet of carriages. If Luna was to be believed, the beasts had always been there but invisible. Why, then, could Harry suddenly see them, and why could Ron not?

'Are you coming or what?' said Ron beside him.

'Oh. yeah,' said Harry quickly and they joined the crowd hurrying up the stone steps into the castle.

The Entrance Hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast.

The four long house tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes. Again, Harry noticed people putting their heads together to whisper as he passed; he gritted his teeth and tried to act as though he neither noticed nor cared.

Luna drifted away from them at the Ravenclaw table. The moment they reached Gryffindors, Ginny was hailed by some fellow fourth-years and left to sit with them; Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville found seats together about halfway down the table between Nearly

Headless Nick, the Gryffindor house ghost, and Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, the last two of whom gave Harry airy, overly-friendly greetings that made him quite sure they had stopped talking about him a split second before. He had more important things to worry about, however: he was looking over the students' heads to the staff table that ran along the top wall of the Hall.

'He's not there.'

Ron and Hermione scanned the staff table too, though there was no real need; Hagrid's size made him instantly obvious in any lineup.

'He can't have left,' said Ron, sounding slightly anxious.

'Of course he hasn't,' said Harry firmly.

'You don't think he's. hurt, or anything, do you?' said Hermione uneasily.

'No,' said Harry at once.

'But where is he, then?'

There was a pause, then Harry said very quietly, so that Neville, Parvati and Lavender could not hear, 'Maybe he's not back yet. You know - from his mission - the thing he was doing over the summer for Dumbledore.'

'Yeah. yeah, that'll be it,' said Ron, sounding reassured, but Hermione bit her lip, looking up and down the staff table as though hoping for some conclusive explanation of Hagrid's absence.

'Who's that?' she said sharply, pointing towards the middle of the staff table.

Harry's eyes followed hers. They lit first upon Professor Dumbledore, sitting in his high-backed golden chair at the centre of the long staff table, wearing deep-purple robes scattered with silvery stars and a matching hat. Dumbledore's head was inclined towards the woman sitting next to him, who was talking into his ear. She looked, Harry thought, like somebody's maiden aunt: squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. Then she turned her face slightly to take a sip from her goblet and he saw, with a shock of recognition, a pallid, toadlike face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.

'It's that Umbridge woman!'

'Who?' said Hermione.

'She was at my hearing, she works for Fudge!'

'Nice cardigan,' said Ron, smirking.

'She works for Fudge!' Hermione repeated, frowning. 'What on earth's she doing here, then?'

'Dunno.'

Hermione scanned the staff table, her eyes narrowed.

'No,' she muttered, 'no, surely not.'

Harry did not understand what she was talking about but did not ask; his attention had been caught by Professor Grubbly-Plank who had just appeared behind the staff table; she worked her way along to the very end and took the seat that ought to have been Hagrids. That meant the first-years must have crossed the lake and reached the castle, and sure enough, a few seconds later, the doors from the Entrance Hall opened. A long line of scared-looking first-years entered, led by Professor McGonagall, who was carrying a stool on which sat an ancient wizard's hat, heavily patched and darned with a wide rip near the frayed brim.

The buzz of talk in the Great Hall faded away. The first-years lined up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and Professor McGonagall placed the stool carefully in front of them, then stood back.

The first-years' faces glowed palely in the candlelight. A small boy right in the middle of the row looked as though he was trembling. Harry recalled, fleetingly, how terrified he had felt when he had stood there, waiting for the unknown test that would determine to which house he belonged.

The whole school waited with bated breath. Then the rip near the hat's brim opened wide like a mouth and the Sorting Hat burst into song:

In times of old when I was new And Hogwarts barely started The founders of our noble school Thought never to be parted: United by a common goal,

They had the selfsame yearning,

To make the world's best magic school

And pass along their learning.

'Together we will build and teach!'

The four good friends decided

And never did they dream that they

Might some day be divided,

For were there such friends anywhere

As Slytherin and Gryffindor?

Unless it was the second pair

Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?

So how could it have gone so wrong?

How could such friendships fail?

Why, I was there and so can tell

The whole sad, sorry tale.

Said Slytherin, 'We'll teach just those

Whose ancestry is purest.'

Said Ravenclaw, 'We'll teach those whose

Intelligence is surest.'

Said Gryffindor, 'We'll teach all those

With brave deeds to their name,'

Said Hufflepuff, Til teach the lot,

And treat them just the same.'

These differences caused little strife

When first they came to light,

For each of the four founders had

A house in which they might

Take only those they wanted, so,

For instance, Slytherin

Took only pure-blood wizards

Of great cunning, just like him,

And only those of sharpest mind

Were taught by Ravenclaw

While the bravest and the boldest

Went to daring Gryffindor.

Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,

And taught them all she knew,

Thus the houses and their founders

Retained friendships firm and true.

So Hogwarts worked in harmony

For several happy years,

But then discord crept among us

Feeding on our faults and fears.

The houses that, like pillars four,

Had once held up our school,

Now turned upon each other and,

Divided, sought to rule.

And for a while it seemed the school

Must meet an early end,

What with duelling and with jighting

And the clash of friend on friend

And at last there came a morning

When old Slytherin departed

And though the fighting then died out

He left us quite downhearted.

And never since the founders four

Were whittled down to three

Have the houses been united

As they once were meant to be.

And now the Sorting Hat is here

And you all know the score:

I sort you into houses

Because that is what I'm for,

But this year I'll go further,

Listen closely to my song:

Though condemned I am to split you

Still I worry that it's wrong,

Though / must fulfil my duty

And must quarter everv year

Still I wonder whether Sorting

May not bring the end I fear.

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,

The warning history shows,

For our Hogwarts is in danger

From external, deadly foes

And we must unite inside her

Or we'll crumble from within

I have told you, I have warned you.

Let the Sorting now begin.

The Hat became motionless once more; applause broke out, though it was punctured, for the first time in Harrys memory, with muttering and whispers. All across the Great Hall students were exchanging remarks with their neighbours, and Harry, clapping along with everyone else, knew exactly what they were talking about.

'Branched out a bit this year, hasn't it?' said Ron, his eyebrows raised.

Too right it has,' said Harry.

The Sorting Hat usually confined itself to describing the different qualities looked for by each of the four Hogwarts houses and its own role in Sorting them. Harry could not remember it ever trying to give the school advice before.

'I wonder if it's ever given warnings before?' said Hermione, sounding slightly anxious.

'Yes, indeed,' said Nearly Headless Nick knowledgeably, leaning across Neville towards her (Neville winced; it was very uncomfortable to have a ghost lean through you). The Hat feels itself honour-bound to give the school due warning whenever il feels -

But Professor McGonagall, who was waiting to read out the list of first-years' names, was giving the whispering students the sort of look that scorches. Nearly Headless Nick placed a see-through finger to his lips and sat primly upright again as the muttering came to an abrupt end. With a last frowning look that swept the four house tables, Professor McGonagall lowered her eyes to her long piece of parchment and called out the first name.

'Abercrombie, Euan.'

The terrified-looking boy Harry had noticed earlier stumbled forwards and put the Hat on his head; it was only prevented from falling right down to his shoulders by his very prominent ears. The Hat considered for a moment, then the rip near the brim opened again and shouted:

'Gryffindor!'

Harry clapped loudly with the rest of Gryffindor house as Euan Abercrombie staggered to their table and sat down, looking as though he would like very much to sink through the floor and never be looked at again.

Slowly, the long line of first-years thinned. In the pauses between the names and the Sorting Hat's decisions, Harry could hear Rons stomach rumbling loudly. Finally, 'Zeller, Rose' was Sorted into Hufflepuff, and Professor McGonagall picked up the Hat and stool and marched them away as Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet.

Whatever his recent bitter feelings had been towards his Headmaster, Harry was somehow soothed to see Dumbledore standing before them all. Between the absence of Hagrid and the presence of those dragonish horses, he had felt that his return to Hogwarts, so long anticipated, was full of unexpected surprises, like jarring notes in a familiar song. But this, at least, was how it was supposed to be: their Headmaster rising to greet them all before the start-of-term feast.

To our newcomers,' said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, 'welcome! To our old hands - welcome back! There is a time for speech-making, but this is not it. Tuck in!'

There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his long beard over his shoulder so as to keep it out of the way of his plate - for food had appeared out of nowhere, so that the five long tables were groaning under joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread and sauces and flagons of pumpkin juice.

'Excellent,' said Ron, with a kind of groan of longing, and he seized the nearest plate of chops and began piling them on to his plate, watched wistfully by Nearly Headless Nick.

'What were you saying before the Sorting?' Hermione asked the ghost. 'About the Hat giving warnings?'

'Oh, yes,' said Nick, who seemed glad of a reason to turn away from Ron, who was now eating roast potatoes with almost indecent enthusiasm. 'Yes, I have heard the Hat give several warnings before, always at times when it detects periods of great danger for the school. And always, of course, its advice is the same: stand together, be strong from within.'

'Ow kunnit nofe skusin danger ifzat?' said Ron.

His mouth was so full Harry thought it was quite an achievement for him to make any noise at all.

'I beg your pardon?' said Nearly Headless Nick politely, while Hermione looked revolted. Ron gave an enormous swallow and said, 'How can it know if the school's in danger if it's a Hat?'

'I have no idea,' said Nearly Headless Nick. 'Of course, it lives in Dumbledore's office, so I daresay it picks things up there.'

'And it wants all the houses to be friends?' said Harry, looking over at the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy was holding court. 'Fat chance.'

'Well, now, you shouldn't take that attitude,' said Nick reprovingly. 'Peaceful co-operation, that's the key. We ghosts, though we belong to separate houses, maintain links of friendship. In spite of the competitiveness between Gryffindor and Slytherin, 1 would never dream of seeking an argument with the Bloody Baron.'

'Only because you're terrified of him,' said Ron.

Nearly Headless Nick looked highly affronted.

Terrified? I hope I, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, have never been guilty of cowardice in my life! The noble blood that runs in my veins -'

'What blood?' asked Ron. 'Surely you haven't still got -?'

'Its a figure of speech!' said Nearly Headless Nick, now so annoyed his head was trembling ominously on his partially severed neck. 'I assume I am still allowed to enjoy the use of whichever words I like, even if the pleasures of eating and drinking are denied me! But I am quite used to students poking fun at my death, I assure you!'

'Nick, he wasn't really laughing at you!' said Hermione, throwing a furious look at Ron.

Unfortunately, Ron's mouth was packed to exploding point again and all he could manage was 'Node iddum eentup sechew,' which Nick did not seem to think constituted an adequate apology. Rising into the air, he straightened his feathered hat and swept away from them to the other end of the table, coming to rest between the Creevey brothers, Colin and Dennis.

'Well done, Ron,' snapped Hermione.

'What?' said Ron indignantly, having managed, finally, to swallow his tood. 'I'm not allowed to ask a simple question?'

'Oh, forget it,' said Hermione irritably, and the pair of them spent the rest of the meal in huffy silence.

Harry was too used to their bickering to bother trying to reconcile them; he felt it was a better use of his time to eat his way steadily through his steak and kidney pie, then a large plateful of his favourite treacle tart.

When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the Hall was starting to creep upwards again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to lace the Headmaster. Harry was feeling pleasantly drowsy now. His lour-poster bed was waiting somewhere above, wonderfully warm and soft.

'Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, 1 beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices,' said Dumbledore. 'First-years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students - and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too.' (Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged smirks.)

'Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the lour-hundred-and-sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr Filch's office door.

'We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.'

There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause, during which Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged slightly panicked looks; Dumbledore had not said for how long Grubbly-Plank would be teaching.

Dumbledore continued, Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the -'

He broke off, looking enquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge cleared her throat, 'Hem, hem,' and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.

Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as Harry had ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking; this woman obviously did not know how things were done at Hogwarts.

Thank you, Headmaster,' Professor Umbridge simpered, 'for those kind words of welcome.'

Her voice was high-pitched, breathy and little-girlish and, again, Harry felt a powerful rush of dislike that he could not explain to himself; all he knew was that he loathed everything about her, from her stupid voice to her fluffy pink cardigan. She gave another little throat-clearing cough ('hem, hem') and continued.

'Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!' She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. 'And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!'

Harry glanced around. None of the faces he could see looked happy. On the contrary, they all looked rather taken-aback at being addressed as though they were five years old.

'I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!'

Students exchanged looks at this; some of them were barely concealing grins.

'I'll be her friend as long as I don't have to borrow that cardigan,' Parvati whispered to Lavender, and both of them lapsed into silent giggles.

Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again ('hem, hem'), but when she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike and now her words had a dull learned-by-heart sound to them.

The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them tor ever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching.'

Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back to her. Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike, and Harry distinctly saw her exchange a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little 'hem, hem' and went on with her speech.

Every headmaster and headmistress o( Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, lor without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation."

Harry lound his attentiveness ebbing, as though his brain was slipping in and out of tune. The quiet that always filled the Hall when Dumbledore was speaking was breaking up as students put their heads together, whispering and giggling. Over on the Ravenclaw table Cho Chang was chatting animatedly with her friends. A few seats along from Cho, Luna Lovegood had got out The Quibbler again. Meanwhile, at the Hufflepuff table Ernie Macmillan was one of the few still staring at Professor Umbridge, but he was glassy-eyed and Harry was sure he was only pretending to listen in an attempt to live up to the new prefect's badge gleaming on his chest.

Professor Umbridge did not seem to notice the restlessness of her audience. Harry had the impression that a full-scale riot could have broken out under her nose and she would have ploughed on with her speech. The teachers, however, were still listening very attentively, and Hermione seemed to be drinking in every word Umbridge spoke, though, judging by her expression, they were not at all to her taste.

'. because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognised as errors of judgement. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited.'

She sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though Harry noticed that several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding properly, Dumbledore had stood up again.

Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating,' he said, bowing to her. 'Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held."

'Yes, it certainly was illuminating,' said Hermione in a low voice.

'You're not telling me you enjoyed it?' Ron said quietly, turning a glazed face towards Hermione. That was about the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy.'

'I said illuminating, not enjoyable,' said Hermione. 'It explained a lot.'

'Did it?' said Harry in surprise. 'Sounded like a load of waffle to me.'

There was some important stuff hidden in the waffle,' said Hermione grimly.

'Was there?' said Ron blankly.

'How about: "progress for progress's sake must be discouraged"? How about: "pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited"?'

'Well, what does that mean?' said Ron impatiently.

Til tell you what it means,' said Hermione through gritted teeth. 'It means the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts.'

There was a great clattering and banging all around them; Dumbledore had obviously just dismissed the school, because everyone was standing up ready to leave the Hall. Hermione jumped up, looking flustered.

'Ron, we're supposed to show the first-years where to go!'

'Oh yeah,' said Ron, who had obviously forgotten. 'Hey - hey, you lot! Midgets!'

'Ron!'

'Well, they are, they're titchy.'

'I know, but you can't call them midgets! - First-years!' Hermione called commandingly along the table. This way, please!'

A group of new students walked shyly up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, all of them trying hard not to lead the group. They did indeed seem very small; Harry was sure he had not appeared that young when he had arrived here. He grinned at them. A blond boy next to Euan Abercrombie looked petrified; he nudged Euan and whispered something in his ear. Euan Abercrombie looked equally frightened and stole a horrified look at Harry, who felt the grin slide off his face like Stinksap.

'See you later,' he said dully to Ron and Hermione and he made his way out of the Great Hall alone, doing everything he could to ignore more whispering, staring and pointing as he passed. He kept his eyes fixed ahead as he wove his way through the crowd in the Entrance Hall, then he hurried up the marble staircase, took a couple of concealed short cuts and had soon left most of the crowds behind.

He had been stupid not to expect this, he thought angrily as he walked through the much emptier upstairs corridors. Of course everyone was staring at him; he had emerged from the Triwizard maze two months previously clutching the dead body of a fellow student and claiming to have seen Lord Voldemort return to power. There had not been time last term to explain himself before they'd all had to go home - even if he had felt up to giving the whole school a detailed account of the terrible events in that graveyard.

Harry had reached the end of the corridor to the Gryffindor common room and come to a halt in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady before he realised that he did not know the new password.

'Er.' he said glumly, staring up at the Fat Lady, who smoothed the folds of her pink satin dress and looked sternly back at him.

'No password, no entrance,' she said loftily.

'Harry, I know it!' Someone panted up behind him and he turned to see Neville jogging towards him. 'Guess what it is? I'm actually going to be able to remember it for once -' He waved the stunted little cactus he had shown them on the train. 'Mimbulus mimble-tonifl!'

'Correct,' said the Fat Lady, and her portrait swung open towards them like a door, revealing a circular hole in the wall behind, through which Harry and Neville now climbed.

The Gryffindor common room looked as welcoming as ever, a cosy circular tower room full of dilapidated squashy armchairs and rickety old tables. A fire was crackling merrily in the grate and a few people were warming their hands by it before going up to their dormitories; on the other side of the room Fred and George Weasley were pinning something up on the noticeboard. Harry waved goodnight to them and headed straight for the door to the boys' dormitories; he was not in much of a mood for talking at the moment. Neville followed him.

Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan had reached the dormitory first and were in the process of covering the walls beside their beds with posters and photographs. They had been talking as Harry pushed open the door but stopped abruptly the moment they saw him. Harry wondered whether they had been talking about him, then whether he was being paranoid.

'Hi,' he said, moving across to his own trunk and opening it.

'Hey, Harry,' said Dean, who was putting on a pair of pyjamas in the West Ham colours. 'Good holiday?'

'Not bad,' muttered Harry, as a true account of his holiday would have taken most of the night to relate and he could not face it. 'You?'

'Yeah, it was OK,' chuckled Dean. 'Better than Seamus's, anyway, he was just telling me.'

'Why, what happened, Seamus?' Neville asked as he placed his Mimbulus mimbletonia tenderly on his bedside cabinet.

Seamus did not answer immediately; he was making rather a meal of ensuring that his poster of the Kenmare Kestrels Quidditch team was quite straight. Then he said, with his back still turned to Harry, 'Me mam didn't want me to come back.'

'What?' said Harry, pausing in the act of pulling off his robes.

'She didn't want me to come back to Hogwarts.'

Seamus turned away from his poster and pulled his own pyjamas out of his trunk, still not looking at Harry.

'But - why?' said Harry, astonished. He knew that Seamus's mother was a witch and could not understand, therefore, why she should have come over so Dursleyish.

Seamus did not answer until he had finished buttoning his pyjamas.

'Well,' he said in a measured voice, 'I suppose. because of you.'

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

His heart was beating rather fast. He felt vaguely as though something was closing in on him.

'Well,' said Seamus again, still avoiding Harrys eye, 'she. er. well, it's not just you, it's Dumbledore, too.'

'She believes the Daily Prophet?' said Harry. 'She thinks I'm a liar and Dumbledore's an old fool?'

Seamus looked up at him.

'Yeah, something like that.'

Harry said nothing. He threw his wand down on to his bedside table, pulled off his robes, stuffed them angrily into his trunk and pulled on his pyjamas. He was sick of it; sick of being the person who is stared at and talked about all the time. If any of them knew, if any of them had the faintest idea what it felt like to be the one all these things had happened to. Mrs Finnigan had no idea, the stupid woman, he thought savagely.

He got into bed and made to pull the hangings closed around him, but before he could do so, Seamus said, 'Look. what did happen that night when. you know, when. with Cedric Diggory and all?'

Seamus sounded nervous and eager at the same time. Dean, who had been bending over his trunk trying to retrieve a slipper, went oddly still and Harry knew he was listening hard.

'What are you asking me for?' Harry retorted. 'Just read the Daily Prophet like your mother, why don't you? That'll tell you all you need to know.'

'Don't you have a go at my mother,' Seamus snapped.

Til have a go at anyone who calls me a liar,' said Harry.

'Don't talk to me like that!'

Til talk to you how I want,' said Harry, his temper rising so fast he snatched his wand back from his bedside table. 'If you've got a problem sharing a dormitory with me, go and ask McGonagall if you can be moved. stop your mummy worrying -'

'Leave my mother out of this, Potter!'

'What's going on?'

Ron had appeared in the doorway. His wide eyes travelled from Harry, who was kneeling on his bed with his wand pointing at Seamus, to Seamus, who was standing there with his fists raised.

'He's having a go at my mother!' Seamus yelled.

'What?' said Ron. 'Harry wouldn't do that - we met your mother, we liked her."

That's before she started believing every word the stinking Daily Prophet writes about me!' said Harry at the top of his voice.

'Oh,' said Ron, comprehension dawning across his freckled face. 'Oh. right.'

'You know what?' said Seamus heatedly, casting Harry a venomous look. 'He's right, I don't want to share a dormitory with him any more, he's mad.'

'That's out of order, Seamus,' said Ron, whose ears were starting to glow red - always a danger sign.

'Out of order, am I?' shouted Seamus, who in contrast with Ron was going pale. 'You believe all the rubbish he's come out with about You-Know-Who, do you, you reckon he's telling the truth?'

'Yeah, I do!' said Ron angrily.

Then you're mad, too,' said Seamus in disgust.

'Yeah? Well, unfortunately for you, pal, I'm also a prefect!' said Ron, jabbing himself in the chest with a finger. 'So unless you want detention, watch your mouth!'

Seamus looked for a few seconds as though detention would be a reasonable price to pay to say what was going through his mind; but with a noise of contempt he turned on his heel, vaulted into bed and pulled the hangings shut with such violence that they were ripped from the bed and fell in a dusty pile to the floor. Ron glared at Seamus, then looked at Dean and Neville.

'Anyone else's parents got a problem with Harry?' he said aggressively.

'My parents are Muggles, mate,' said Dean, shrugging. They don't know nothing about no deaths at Hogwarts, because I'm not stupid enough to tell them.'

'You don't know my mother, she'd weasel anything out of anyone!' Seamus snapped at him. 'Anyway your parents don't get the Daily Prophet. They don't know our Headmaster's been sacked from the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards because he's losing his marbles -'

'My gran says that's rubbish,' piped up Neville. 'She says it's the Daily Prophet that's going downhill, not Dumbledore. She's cancelled our subscription. We believe Harry' said Neville simply. He climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin, looking owlishly over them at Seamus. 'My gran's always said You-Know-Who would come back one day. She says if Dumbledore says he's back, he's back.'

Harry felt a rush of gratitude towards Neville. Nobody else said anything. Seamus got out his wand, repaired the bed hangings and vanished behind them. Dean got into bed, rolled over and fell silent. Neville, who appeared to have nothing more to say either, was gazing fondly at his moonlit cactus.

Harry lay back on his pillows while Ron bustled around the next bed, putting his things away. He felt shaken by the argument with Seamus, whom he had always liked very much. How many more people were going to suggest that he was lying, or unhinged?

Had Dumbledore suffered like this all summer, as first the Wizengamot, then the International Confederation of Wizards had thrown him from their ranks? Was it anger at Harry, perhaps, that had stopped Dumbledore getting in touch with him for months? The two of them were in this together, after all; Dumbledore had believed Harry, announced his version of events to the whole school and then to the wider wizarding community. Anyone who thought

HE SORTING HAT'S NEW SONG

Harry was a liar had to think that Dumbledore was, too, or else that Dumbledore had been hoodwinked.

They'll know we're right in the end, thought Harry miserably, as Ron got into bed and extinguished the last candle in the dormitory. But he wondered how many more attacks like Seamus's he would have to endure before that time came.