Mundungus she could reach. 'And - it - had
- better - be - you - and - you - can - tell - him - why - you -weren't - there - to - help!'
'Keep your 'airnet on!' said Mundungus, his arms over his head, cowering. 'I'm going, I'm
going!'
And with another loud crack, he vanished.
'I hope Dumbledore murders him!' said Mrs Figg furiously. 'Now come on, Harry, what
are you waiting for?'
Harry decided not to waste his remaining breath on pointing out that he could barely walk
under Dudley's bulk. He gave the semi-conscious Dudley a heave and staggered onwards.
'I'll take you to the door,' said Mrs Figg, as they turned into Privet Drive. 'Just in case
there are more of them around… oh my word, what a catastrophe… and you had to fight
them off yourself… and Dumbledore said we were to keep you from doing magic at all
costs… well, it's no good crying over spilt potion, 1 suppose… but the cat's among the
pixies now.'
'So,' Harry panted, 'Dumbledore's… been having… me followed?'
'Of course he has,' said Mrs Figg impatiently. 'Did you expect him to let you wander
around on your own after what happened in June? Good Lord, boy, they told me you
were intelligent… right… get inside and stay there,' she said, as they reached number
four. 'I expect someone will be in touch with you soon enough.'
'What are you going to do?' asked Harry quickly.
'I'm going straight home,' said Mrs Figg, staring around the dark street and shuddering.
'I'll need to wait for more instructions. Just stay in the house. Goodnight.'
'Hang on, don't go yet! I want to know -
But Mrs Figg had already set off at a trot, carpet slippers flopping, string bag clanking.
'Wait!' Harry shouted after her. He had a million questions to ask anyone who was in
contact with Dumbledore; but within seconds Mrs Figg was swallowed by the darkness.
Scowling, Harry readjusted Dudley on his shoulder and made his slow, painful way up
number four's garden path.
The hall light was on. Harry stuck his wand back inside the waistband of his jeans, rang
the bell and watched Aunt Petunia's outline grow larger and larger, oddly distorted by the
rippling glass in the front door.
'Diddy! About time too, I was getting quite - quite - Diddy, what's the matter!'
Harry looked sideways at Dudley and ducked out from under his arm just in time. Dudley
swayed on the spot for a moment, his face pale green… then he opened his mouth and
vomited all over the doormat.
'DIDDY! Diddy, what's the matter with you? Vernon? VERNON!'
Harry's uncle came galumphing out of the living room, walrus moustache blowing
hither and thither as it always did when he was agitated. He hurried forwards to help
Aunt Petunia negotiate a weak-kneed Dudley over the threshold while avoiding stepping
in the pool of sick.
'He's ill, Vernon!'
'What is it, son? What's happened? Did Mrs Polkiss give you something foreign for tea?'
'Why are you all covered in dirt, darling? Have you been lying on the ground?'