Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (7 page)

‘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.

‘F-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 undetectable. 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 introduced 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 I 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 pensively, 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 reflection 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 Harry’s 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 Harry’s 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 mum’s 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
Firebolt
?’

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 –’