Untitled Part 7
Harry awoke at half-past five the next morning asabruptly and completely as if somebody had yelled in hisear. For a few moments he lay immobile as the prospect ofthe hearing filled every tiny particle of his brain, then,unable to bear it, he leapt out of bed and put on his glasses.Mrs. Weasley had laid out his freshly laundered jeans and Tshirt at the foot of his bed. Harry scrambled into them. Theblank picture on the wall sniggered again.
Ron was lying sprawled on his back with his mouth wideopen, fast asleep. He did not stir as Harry crossed the room,stepped out onto the landing, and closed the door softlybehind him. Trying not to think of the next time he wouldsee Ron, when they might no longer be fellow students atHogwarts, Harry walked quietly down the stairs, past theheads of Kreacher's ancestors, and into the kitchen.
He had expected it to be empty, but it was not. When hereached the door he heard the soft rumble of voices on theother side and when he pushed it open he saw Mr. and Mrs.Weasley, Sirius, Lupin, and Tonks sitting there almost asthough they were waiting for him. All were fully dressedexcept Mrs. Weasley, who was wearing a quilted, purpledressing gown. She leapt to her feet the moment heentered.
"Breakfast," she said as she pulled out her wand andhurried over to the fire.
"M-m-morning, Harry," yawned Tonks. Her hair wasblonde and curly this morning. "Sleep all right?"
"Yeah," said Harry.
"I've b-b-been up all night," she said, with anothershuddering yawn. "Come and sit down. ..."
She drew out a chair, knocking over the one beside it inthe process.
"What do you want, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley called."Porridge? Muffins? Kippers? Bacon and eggs? Toast?"
"Just — just toast, thanks," said Harry.
Lupin glanced at Harry, then said to Tonks, "What wereyou saying about Scrimgeour?"
"Oh ... yeah ... well, we need to be a bit more careful, he'sbeen asking Kingsley and me funny questions. ..."
Harry felt vaguely grateful that he was not required tojoin in the conversation. His insides were squirming. Mrs.Weasley placed a couple of pieces of toast and marmaladein front of him; he tried to eat, but it was like chewingcarpet. Mrs. Weasley sat down on his other side and startedfussing with his T-shirt, tucking in the label and smoothingout creases across the shoulders. He wished she wouldn't.
"... and I'll have to tell Dumbledore I can't do night dutytomorrow, I'm just t-t-too tired," Tonks finished, yawninghugely again.
"I'll cover for you," said Mr. Weasley. "I'm okay, I've got areport to finish anyway. ..."
Mr. Weasley was not wearing wizard's robes but a pair ofpinstriped trousers and an old bomber jacket. He turnedfrom Tonks to Harry
"How are you feeling?"
Harry shrugged.
"It'll all be over soon," Mr. Weasley said bracingly. "In afew hours' time you'll be cleared."
Harry said nothing.
"The hearing's on my floor, in Amelia Bones's office. She'sHead of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement andshe's the one who'll be questioning you.""Amelia Bones is okay, Harry," said Tonks earnestly. "She'sfair, she'll hear you out."
Harry nodded, still unable to think of anything to say.
"Don't lose your temper," said Sirius abruptly. "Be politeand stick to the facts."
Harry nodded again.
"The law's on your side," said Lupin quietly. "Evenunderage wizards are allowed to use magic in lifethreatening situations."
Something very cold trickled down the back of Harry'sneck; for a moment he thought someone was putting aDisillusionment Charm on him again, then he realized thatMrs. Weasley was attacking his hair with a wet comb. Shepressed hard on the top of his head.
"Doesn't it ever lie flat?" she said desperately.
Harry shook his head.
Mr. Weasley checked his watch and looked up at Harry.
"I think we'll go now," he said. "We're a bit early, but Ithink you'll be better off there than hanging around here."
"Okay," said Harry automatically, dropping his toast andgetting to his feet.
"You'll be all right, Harry," said Tonks, patting him on thearm.
"Good luck," said Lupin. "I'm sure it will be fine."
"And if it's not," said Sirius grimly, "I'll see to AmeliaBones for you. ..."
Harry smiled weakly. Mrs. Weasley hugged him.
"We've all got our fingers crossed," she said.
"Right," said Harry. "Well ... see you later then."
He followed Mr. Weasley upstairs and along the hall. Hecould hear Sirius's mother grunting in her sleep behind hercurtains. Mr. Weasley unbolted the door and they steppedout into the cold, gray dawn.
"You don't normally walk to work, do you?" Harry askedhim, as they set off briskly around the square.
"No, I usually Apparate," said Mr. Weasley, "but obviouslyyou can't, and I think it's best we arrive in a thoroughlynon-magical fashion ... makes a better impression, givenwhat you're being disciplined for. ..."
Mr. Weasley kept his hand inside his jacket as theywalked. Harry knew it was clenched around his wand. Therun-down streets were almost deserted, but when theyarrived at the miserable little Underground station theyfound it already full of early morning commuters. As everwhen he found himself in close proximity to Muggles goingabout their daily business, Mr. Weasley was hard put tocontain his enthusiasm.
"Simply fabulous," he whispered, indicating the automaticticket machines. "Wonderfully ingenious."
"They're out of order," said Harry, pointing at the sign.
"Yes, but even so ..." said Mr. Weasley, beaming fondly atthem.
They bought their tickets instead from a sleepy-lookingguard (Harry handled the transaction, as Mr. Weasley wasnot very good with Muggle money) and five minutes laterthey were boarding an Underground train that rattled themoff toward the center of London. Mr. Weasley kept anxiouslychecking and rechecking the Underground map above thewindows.
"Four stops, Harry ... three stops left now ... two stops togo, Harry ..."
They got off at a station in the very heart of London,swept from the train in a tide of besuited men and womencarrying briefcases. Up the escalator they went, throughthe ticket barrier (Mr. Weasley delighted with the way thestile swallowed his ticket), and emerged onto a broad streetlined with imposing-looking buildings, already full of traffic.
"Where are we?" said Mr. Weasley blankly, and for oneheart-stopping moment Harry thought they had gotten offat the wrong station despite Mr. Weasley's continualreferences to the map; but a second later he said, "Ah yes ...this way, Harry," and led him down a side road.
"Sorry," he said, "but I never come by train and it all looksrather different from a Muggle perspective. As a matter offact I've never even used the visitor's entrance before."
The farther they walked, the smaller and less imposingthe buildings became, until finally they reached a streetthat contained several rather shabby-looking offices, a pub,and an overflowing dumpster. Harry had expected a rathermore impressive location for the Ministry of Magic.
"Here we are," said Mr. Weasley brightly, pointing at anold red telephone box, which was missing several panes ofglass and stood before a heavily graffittied wall. "After you,Harry."
He opened the telephone box door.
Harry stepped inside, wondering what on earth this wasabout. Mr. Weasley folded himself in beside Harry andclosed the door. It was a tight fit; Harry was jammedagainst the telephone apparatus, which was hangingcrookedly from the wall as though a vandal had tried to ripit off. Mr. Weasley reached past Harry for the receiver.
"Mr. Weasley, I think this might be out of order too,"Harry said.
"No, no, I'm sure it's fine," said Mr. Weasley, holding thereceiver above his head and peering at the dial. "Let's see... six ..." he dialed the number, "two ... four ... and anotherfour ... and another two ..."
As the dial whirred smoothly back into place, a coolfemale voice sounded inside the telephone box, not from thereceiver in Mr. Weasley's hand, but as loudly and plainly asthough an invisible woman were standing right besidethem.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state yourname and business."
"Er ..." said Mr. Weasley, clearly uncertain whether heshould talk into the receiver or not; he compromised byholding the mouthpiece to his ear, "Arthur Weasley, Misuseof Muggle Artifacts Office, here to escort Harry Potter, whohas been asked to attend a disciplinary hearing. ..."
"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitor, pleasetake the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."
There was a click and a rattle, and Harry saw somethingslide out of the metal chute where returned coins usuallyappeared. He picked it up: It was a square silver badgewith Harry Potter, Disciplinary Hearing on it. He pinned itto the front of his T-shirt as the female voice spoke again.
"Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to asearch and present your wand for registration at thesecurity desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."
The floor of the telephone box shuddered. They weresinking slowly into the ground. Harry watchedapprehensively as the pavement rose up past the glasswindows of the telephone box until darkness closed overtheir heads. Then he could see nothing at all; he could onlyhear a dull grinding noise as the telephone box made itsway down through the earth. After about a minute, thoughit felt much longer to Harry, a chink of golden lightilluminated his feet and, widening, rose up his body, until ithit him in the face and he had to blink to stop his eyes fromwatering.
"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," saidthe woman's voice.
The door of the telephone box sprang open and Mr.Weasley stepped out of it, followed by Harry, whose mouthhad fallen open.
They were standing at one end of a very long andsplendid hall with a highly polished, dark wood floor. Thepeacock-blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming goldensymbols that were continually moving and changing likesome enormous heavenly notice board. The walls on eachside were paneled in shiny dark wood and had many gildedfireplaces set into them. Every few seconds a witch orwizard would emerge from one of the left-hand fireplaceswith a soft whoosh; on the right-hand side, short queues ofwizards were forming before each fireplace, waiting todepart.
Halfway down the hall was a fountain. A group of goldenstatues, larger than life-size, stood in the middle of acircular pool. Tallest of them all was a noble-looking wizardwith his wand pointing straight up in the air. Groupedaround him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin, anda house-elf. The last three were all looking adoringly up atthe witch and wizard. Glittering jets of water were flyingfrom the ends of the two wands, the point of the centaur'sarrow, the tip of the goblin's hat, and each of the house-elf'sears, so that the tinkling hiss of falling water was added tothe pops and cracks of Apparators and the clatter offootsteps as hundreds of witches and wizards, most ofwhom were wearing glum, early-morning looks, strodetoward a set of golden gates at the far end of the hall.
"This way," said Mr. Weasley.
They joined the throng, wending their way between theMinistry workers, some of whom were carrying totteringpiles of parchment, others battered briefcases, still othersreading the Daily Prophet as they walked. As they passedthe fountain Harry saw silver Sickles and bronze Knutsglinting up at him from the bottom of the pool. A small,smudged sign beside it read:
All proceeds from the Fountain of Magical Brethren will begiven toSt. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries
If I'm not expelled from Hogwarts, I'll put in ten Galleons,Harry found himself thinking desperately.
"Over here, Harry," said Mr. Weasley, and they steppedout of the stream of Ministry employees heading for thegolden gates, toward a desk on the left, over which hung asign saying SECURITY. A badly shaven wizard in peacockblue robes looked up as they approached and put down hisDaily Prophet.
"I'm escorting a visitor," said Mr. Weasley, gesturingtoward Harry.
"Step over here," said the wizard in a bored voice.
Harry walked closer to him and the wizard held up a longgolden rod, thin and flexible as a car aerial, and passed itup and down Harry's front and back.
"Wand," grunted the security wizard at Harry, puttingdown the golden instrument and holding out his hand.
Harry produced his wand. The wizard dropped it onto astrange brass instrument, which looked something like a setof scales with only one dish. It began to vibrate. A narrowstrip of parchment came speeding out of a slit in the base.The wizard tore this off and read the writing upon it.
"Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use fouryears. That correct?"
"Yes," said Harry nervously.
"I keep this," said the wizard, impaling the slip ofparchment on a small brass spike. "You get this back," headded, thrusting the wand at Harry.
"Thank you."
"Hang on. ..." said the wizard slowly.
His eyes had darted from the silver visitor's badge onHarry's chest to his forehead.
"Thank you, Eric," said Mr. Weasley firmly, and graspingHarry by the shoulder, he steered him away from the deskand back into the stream of wizards and witches walkingthrough the golden gates.
Jostled slightly by the crowd, Harry followed Mr. Weasleythrough the gates into the smaller hall beyond, where atleast twenty lifts stood behind wrought golden grilles.Harry and Mr. Weasley joined the crowd around one ofthem. A big, bearded wizard holding a large cardboard boxstood nearby. The box was emitting rasping noises.
"All right, Arthur?" said the wizard, nodding at Mr.Weasley.
"What've you got there, Bob?" asked Mr. Weasley, lookingat the box.
"We're not sure," said the wizard seriously. "We thought itwas a bog-standard chicken until it started breathing fire.Looks like a serious breach of the Ban on ExperimentalBreeding to me."
With a great jangling and clattering a lift descended infront of them; the golden grille slid back and Harry and Mr.Weasley moved inside it with the rest of the crowd. Harryfound himself jammed against the back wall of the lift.Several witches and wizards were looking at him curiously;he stared at his feet to avoid catching anyone's eye,flattening his fringe as he did so. The grilles slid shut with acrash and the lift ascended slowly, chains rattling all thewhile, while the same cool female voice Harry had heard inthe telephone box rang out again.
"Level seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports,incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch LeagueHeadquarters, Official Gobstones Club, and LudicrousPatents Office."
The lift doors opened; Harry glimpsed an untidy-lookingcorridor, with various posters of Quidditch teams tackedlopsidedly on the walls; one of the wizards in the lift, whowas carrying an armful of broomsticks, extricated himselfwith difficulty and disappeared down the corridor. Thedoors closed, the lift juddered upward again, and thewoman's voice said, "Level six, Department of MagicalTransport, incorporating the Floo Network Authority,Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and ApparationTest Center."
Once again the lift doors opened and four or five witchesand wizards got out; at the same time, several paperairplanes swooped into the lift. Harry stared up at them asthey flapped idly around above his head; they were a paleviolet color and he could see MINISTRY OF MAGIC stampedalong the edges of their wings.
"Just Interdepartmental memos," Mr. Weasley mutteredto him. "We used to use owls, but the mess wasunbelievable ... droppings all over the desks ..."
As they clattered upward again, the memos flappedaround the swaying lamp in the lift's ceiling.
"Level five, Department of International MagicalCooperation, incorporating the International MagicalTrading Standards Body, the International Magical Office ofLaw, and the International Confederation of Wizards,British Seats."
When the doors opened, two of the memos zoomed outwith a few more witches and wizards, but several morememos zoomed in, so that the light from the lamp in theceiling flickered and flashed as they darted around it.
"Level four, Department for the Regulation and Control ofMagical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being, and SpiritDivisions, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pest Advisory Bureau."
" 'S'cuse," said the wizard carrying the fire-breathingchicken and he left the lift pursued by a little flock ofmemos. The doors clanged shut yet again.
"Level three, Department of Magical Accidents andCatastrophes, including the Accidental Magic ReversalSquad, Obliviator Headquarters, and Muggle-WorthyExcuse Committee."
Everybody left the lift on this floor except Mr. Weasley,Harry, and a witch who was reading an extremely longpiece of parchment that was trailing on the ground. Theremaining memos continued to soar around the lamp as thelift juddered upward again, and then the doors opened andthe voice said, "Level two, Department of Magical LawEnforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office,Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot AdministrationServices."
"This is us, Harry," said Mr. Weasley, and they followed thewitch out of the lift into a corridor lined with doors. "Myoffice is on the other side of the floor."
"Mr. Weasley," said Harry, as they passed a windowthrough which sunlight was streaming, "aren't weunderground?"
"Yes, we are," said Mr. Weasley, "those are enchantedwindows; Magical Maintenance decide what weather we'regetting every day. We had two months of hurricanes lasttime they were angling for a pay raise. ... Just round here,Harry."
They turned a corner, walked through a pair of heavy oakdoors, and emerged in a cluttered, open area divided intocubicles, which were buzzing with talk and laughter.Memos were zooming in and out of cubicles like miniaturerockets. A lopsided sign on the nearest cubicle read AURORHEADQUARTERS.
Harry looked surreptitiously through the doorways asthey passed. The Aurors had covered their cubicle wallswith everything from pictures of wanted wizards andphotographs of their families, to posters of their favoriteQuidditch teams and articles from the Daily Prophet. Ascarlet-robed man with a ponytail longer than Bill's wassitting with his boots up on his desk, dictating a report tohis quill. A little farther along, a witch with a patch over hereye was talking over the top of her cubicle wall to KingsleyShacklebolt.
"Morning, Weasley," said Kingsley carelessly, as they drewnearer. "I've been wanting a word with you, have you got asecond?"
"Yes, if it really is a second," said Mr. Weasley, "I'm inrather a hurry."
They were talking to each other as though they hardlyknew each other, and when Harry opened his mouth to sayhello to Kingsley, Mr. Weasley stood on his foot. Theyfollowed Kingsley along the row and into the very lastcubicle.
Harry received a slight shock; Sirius's face was blinkingdown at him from every direction. Newspaper cuttings andold photographs — even the one of Sirius being best man atthe Potters' wedding — papered the walls. The only Siriusfree space was a map of the world in which little red pinswere glowing like jewels.
"Here," said Kingsley brusquely to Mr. Weasley, shoving asheaf of parchment into his hand, "I need as muchinformation as possible on flying Muggle vehicles sighted inthe last twelve months. We've received information thatBlack might still be using his old motorcycle."
Kingsley tipped Harry an enormous wink and added, in awhisper, "Give him the magazine, he might find itinteresting." Then he said in normal tones, "And don't taketoo long, Weasley, the delay on that firelegs report held ourinvestigation up for a month."
"If you had read my report you would know that the termis 'firearms,' " said Mr. Weasley coolly. "And I'm afraid you'llhave to wait for information on motorcycles, we'reextremely busy at the moment." He dropped his voice andsaid, "If you can get away before seven, Molly's makingmeatballs."
He beckoned to Harry and led him out of Kingsley'scubicle, through a second set of oak doors, into anotherpassage, turned left, marched along another corridor,turned right into a dimly lit and distinctly shabby corridor,and finally reached a dead end, where a door on the leftstood ajar, revealing a broom cupboard, and a door on theright bore a tarnished brass plaque reading MISUSE OFMUGGLE ARTIFACTS.
Mr. Weasley's dingy office seemed to be slightly smallerthan the broom cupboard. Two desks had been crammedinside it and there was barely room to move around thembecause of all the overflowing filing cabinets lining thewalls, on top of which were tottering piles of files. The littlewall space available bore witness to Mr. Weasley'sobsessions; there were several posters of cars, includingone of a dismantled engine, two illustrations of postboxeshe seemed to have cut out of Muggle children's books, anda diagram showing how to wire a plug.
Sitting on top of Mr. Weasley's overflowing in-tray was anold toaster that was hiccuping in a disconsolate way and apair of empty leather gloves that were twiddling theirthumbs. A photograph of the Weasley family stood besidethe in-tray. Harry noticed that Percy appeared to havewalked out of it.
"We haven't got a window," said Mr. Weasleyapologetically, taking off his bomber jacket and placing it onthe back of his chair. "We've asked, but they don't seem tothink we need one. Have a seat, Harry, doesn't look as ifPerkins is in yet."
Harry squeezed himself into the chair behind Perkins'sdesk while Mr. Weasley rifled through the sheaf ofparchment Kingsley Shacklebolt had given him.
"Ah," he said, grinning, as he extracted a copy of amagazine entitled The Quibbler from its midst, "yes ..." Heflicked through it. "Yes, he's right, I'm sure Sirius will findthat very amusing — oh dear, what's this now?"
A memo had just zoomed in through the open door andfluttered to rest on top of the hiccuping toaster. Mr. Weasleyunfolded it and read aloud, " 'Third regurgitating publictoilet reported in Bethnal Green, kindly investigateimmediately.' This is getting ridiculous. ..."
"A regurgitating toilet?"
"Anti-Muggle pranksters," said Mr. Weasley, frowning."We had two last week, one in Wimbledon, one in Elephantand Castle. Muggles are pulling the flush and instead ofeverything disappearing — well, you can imagine. The poorthings keep calling in those — those pumbles, I thinkthey're called — you know, the ones who mend pipes andthings —"
"Plumbers?"
"— exactly, yes, but of course they're flummoxed. I onlyhope we can catch whoever's doing it."
"Will it be Aurors who catch them?"
"Oh no, this is too trivial for Aurors, it'll be the ordinaryMagical Law Enforcement Patrol — ah, Harry, this isPerkins."
A stooped, timid-looking old wizard with fluffy white hairhad just entered the room, panting.
"Oh Arthur!" he said desperately, without looking atHarry. "Thank goodness, I didn't know what to do for thebest, whether to wait here for you or not, I've just sent anowl to your home but you've obviously missed it — anurgent message came ten minutes ago —"
"I know about the regurgitating toilet," said Mr. Weasley.
"No, no, it's not the toilet, it's the Potter boy's hearing —they've changed the time and venue — it starts at eighto'clock now and it's down in old Courtroom Ten —"
"Down in old — but they told me — Merlin's beard —"
Mr. Weasley looked at his watch, let out a yelp, and leaptfrom his chair.
"Quick, Harry, we should have been there five minutesago!"
Perkins flattened himself against the filing cabinets as Mr.Weasley left the office at a run, Harry on his heels.
"Why have they changed the time?" Harry saidbreathlessly as they hurtled past the Auror cubicles; peoplepoked out their heads and stared as they streaked past.Harry felt as though he had left all his insides back atPerkins's desk.
"I've no idea, but thank goodness we got here so early, ifyou'd missed it it would have been catastrophic!"
Mr. Weasley skidded to a halt beside the lifts and jabbedimpatiently at the down button.
"Come ON!"
The lift clattered into view and they hurried inside. Everytime it stopped Mr. Weasley cursed furiously andpummelled the number nine button.
"Those courtrooms haven't been used in years," said Mr.Weasley angrily. "I can't think why they're doing it downthere — unless — but no ..."
A plump witch carrying a smoking goblet entered the liftat that moment, and Mr. Weasley did not elaborate.
"The Atrium," said the cool female voice and the goldengrilles slid open, showing Harry a distant glimpse of thegolden statues in the fountain. The plump witch got out anda sallow-skinned wizard with a very mournful face got in.
"Morning, Arthur," he said in a sepulchral voice as the liftbegan to descend. "Don't often see you down here. ..."
"Urgent business, Bode," said Mr. Weasley, who wasbouncing on the balls of his feet and throwing anxious looksover at Harry
"Ah, yes," said Bode, surveying Harry unblinkingly. "Ofcourse."
Harry barely had emotion to spare for Bode, but hisunfaltering gaze did not make him feel any morecomfortable.
"Department of Mysteries," said the cool female voice,and left it at that.
"Quick, Harry," said Mr. Weasley as the lift doors rattledopen, and they sped up a corridor that was quite differentfrom those above. The walls were bare; there were nowindows and no doors apart from a plain black one set atthe very end of the corridor. Harry expected them to gothrough it, but instead Mr. Weasley seized him by the armand dragged him to the left, where there was an openingleading to a flight of steps.
"Down here, down here," panted Mr. Weasley, taking twosteps at a time. "The lift doesn't even come down this far ...why they're doing it there ..."
They reached the bottom of the steps and ran along yetanother corridor, which bore a great resemblance to thatwhich led to Snape's dungeon at Hogwarts, with roughstone walls and torches in brackets. The doors they passedhere were heavy wooden ones with iron bolts and keyholes.
"Courtroom ... ten ... I think ... we're nearly ... yes."
Mr. Weasley stumbled to a halt outside a grimy dark doorwith an immense iron lock and slumped against the wall,clutching at a stitch in his chest.
"Go on," he panted, pointing his thumb at the door. "Getin there."
"Aren't — aren't you coming with — ?"
"No, no, I'm not allowed. Good luck!"
Harry's heart was beating a violent tattoo against hisAdam's apple. He swallowed hard, turned the heavy irondoor handle, and stepped inside the courtroom.
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: ZingTruyen.Xyz