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