WutYee/HarryPotter_books_1to7 · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 1 95

THE SECOND
WAR BEGINS
867
stubbornly sitting there until the first of September, when it would
take him back to Hogwarts. When it finally puffed to a standstill,
however, he lifted down Hedwig’s cage and prepared to drag his trunk
from the train as usual.
When the ticket inspector signaled to him, Ron, and Hermione
that it was safe to walk through the magical barrier between platforms
nine and ten, however, he found a surprise awaiting him on the other
side: a group of people standing there to greet him whom he had not
expected at all.
There was Mad-Eye Moody, looking quite as sinister with his
bowler hat pulled low over his magical eye as he would have done
without it, his gnarled hands clutching a long staff, his body wrapped
in a voluminous traveling cloak. Tonks stood just behind him, her
bright bubble-gum-pink hair gleaming in the sunlight filtering
through the dirty glass station ceiling, wearing heavily patched jeans
and a bright purple T-shirt bearing the legend the weird sisters.
Next to Tonks was Lupin, his face pale, his hair graying, a long and
threadbare overcoat covering a shabby jumper and trousers. At the
front of the group stood Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, dressed in their Mug-
gle best, and Fred and George, who were both wearing brand-new
jackets in some lurid green, scaly material.
“Ron, Ginny!” called Mrs. Weasley, hurrying forward and hugging
her children tightly. “Oh, and Harry dear — how are you?”
“Fine,” lied Harry, as she pulled him into a tight embrace. Over her
shoulder he saw Ron goggling at the twins’ new clothes.
“What are they supposed to be?” he asked, pointing at the jackets.
“Finest dragon skin, little bro,” said Fred, giving his zip a little
tweak. “Business is booming and we thought we’d treat ourselves.”
“Hello, Harry,” said Lupin, as Mrs. Weasley let go of Harry and
turned to greet Hermione.
“Hi,” said Harry. “I didn’t expect . . . what are you all doing here?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
868
“Well,” said Lupin with a slight smile, “we thought we might have
a little chat with your aunt and uncle before letting them take you
home.”
“I dunno if that’s a good idea,” said Harry at once.
“Oh, I think it is,” growled Moody, who had limped a little closer.
“That’ll be them, will it, Potter?”
He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder; his magical eye was
evidently peering through the back of his head and his bowler hat.
Harry leaned an inch or so to the left to see where Mad-Eye was point-
ing and there, sure enough, were the three Dursleys, who looked
positively appalled to see Harry’s reception committee.
“Ah, Harry!” said Mr. Weasley, turning from Hermione’s parents,
whom he had been greeting enthusiastically, and who were taking it in
turns to hug Hermione. “Well — shall we do it, then?”
“Yeah, I reckon so, Arthur,” said Moody.
He and Mr. Weasley took the lead across the station toward the
place where the Dursleys stood, apparently rooted to the floor.
Hermione disengaged herself gently from her mother to join the
group.
“Good afternoon,” said Mr. Weasley pleasantly to Uncle Vernon,
coming to a halt right in front of him. “You might remember me, my
name’s Arthur Weasley.”
As Mr. Weasley had singlehandedly demolished most of the Durs-
leys’ living room two years previously, Harry would have been very
surprised if Uncle Vernon had forgotten him. Sure enough, Uncle
Vernon turned a deeper shade of puce and glared at Mr. Weasley, but
chose not to say anything, partly, perhaps, because the Dursleys were
outnumbered two to one. Aunt Petunia looked both frightened and
embarrassed. She kept glancing around, as though terrified somebody
she knew would see her in such company. Dudley, meanwhile, seemed
to be trying to look small and insignificant, a feat at which he was fail-
ing extravagantly.
THE SECOND
WAR BEGINS
869
“We thought we’d just have a few words with you about Harry,”
said Mr. Weasley, still smiling.
“Yeah,” growled Moody. “About how he’s treated when he’s at your
place.”
Uncle Vernon’s mustache seemed to bristle with indignation. Possi-
bly because the bowler hat gave him the entirely mistaken impression
that he was dealing with a kindred spirit, he addressed himself to
Moody.
“I am not aware that it is any of your business what goes on in my
house —”
“I expect what you’re not aware of would fill several books, Durs-
ley,” growled Moody.
“Anyway, that’s not the point,” interjected Tonks, whose pink hair
seemed to offend Aunt Petunia more than all the rest put together, for
she closed her eyes rather than look at her. “The point is, if we find
out you’ve been horrible to Harry —”
“— and make no mistake, we’ll hear about it,” added Lupin
pleasantly.
“Yes,” said Mr. Weasley, “even if you won’t let Harry use the
fellytone —”
“Telephone,” whispered Hermione.
“Yeah, if we get any hint that Potter’s been mistreated in any way,
you’ll have us to answer to,” said Moody.
Uncle Vernon swelled ominously. His sense of outrage seemed to
outweigh even his fear of this bunch of oddballs.
“Are you threatening me, sir?” he said, so loudly that passersby ac-
tually turned to stare.

THE SECOND

WAR BEGINS

867

stubbornly sitting there until the first of September, when it would

take him back to Hogwarts. When it finally puffed to a standstill,

however, he lifted down Hedwig’s cage and prepared to drag his trunk

from the train as usual.

When the ticket inspector signaled to him, Ron, and Hermione

that it was safe to walk through the magical barrier between platforms

nine and ten, however, he found a surprise awaiting him on the other

side: a group of people standing there to greet him whom he had not

expected at all.

There was Mad-Eye Moody, looking quite as sinister with his

bowler hat pulled low over his magical eye as he would have done

without it, his gnarled hands clutching a long staff, his body wrapped

in a voluminous traveling cloak. Tonks stood just behind him, her

bright bubble-gum-pink hair gleaming in the sunlight filtering

through the dirty glass station ceiling, wearing heavily patched jeans

and a bright purple T-shirt bearing the legend the weird sisters.

Next to Tonks was Lupin, his face pale, his hair graying, a long and

threadbare overcoat covering a shabby jumper and trousers. At the

front of the group stood Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, dressed in their Mug-

gle best, and Fred and George, who were both wearing brand-new

jackets in some lurid green, scaly material.

“Ron, Ginny!” called Mrs. Weasley, hurrying forward and hugging

her children tightly. “Oh, and Harry dear — how are you?”

“Fine,” lied Harry, as she pulled him into a tight embrace. Over her

shoulder he saw Ron goggling at the twins’ new clothes.

“What are they supposed to be?” he asked, pointing at the jackets.

“Finest dragon skin, little bro,” said Fred, giving his zip a little

tweak. “Business is booming and we thought we’d treat ourselves.”

“Hello, Harry,” said Lupin, as Mrs. Weasley let go of Harry and

turned to greet Hermione.

“Hi,” said Harry. “I didn’t expect . . . what are you all doing here?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

868

“Well,” said Lupin with a slight smile, “we thought we might have

a little chat with your aunt and uncle before letting them take you

home.”

“I dunno if that’s a good idea,” said Harry at once.

“Oh, I think it is,” growled Moody, who had limped a little closer.

“That’ll be them, will it, Potter?”

He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder; his magical eye was

evidently peering through the back of his head and his bowler hat.

Harry leaned an inch or so to the left to see where Mad-Eye was point-

ing and there, sure enough, were the three Dursleys, who looked

positively appalled to see Harry’s reception committee.

“Ah, Harry!” said Mr. Weasley, turning from Hermione’s parents,

whom he had been greeting enthusiastically, and who were taking it in

turns to hug Hermione. “Well — shall we do it, then?”

“Yeah, I reckon so, Arthur,” said Moody.

He and Mr. Weasley took the lead across the station toward the

place where the Dursleys stood, apparently rooted to the floor.

Hermione disengaged herself gently from her mother to join the

group.

“Good afternoon,” said Mr. Weasley pleasantly to Uncle Vernon,

coming to a halt right in front of him. “You might remember me, my

name’s Arthur Weasley.”

As Mr. Weasley had singlehandedly demolished most of the Durs-

leys’ living room two years previously, Harry would have been very

surprised if Uncle Vernon had forgotten him. Sure enough, Uncle

Vernon turned a deeper shade of puce and glared at Mr. Weasley, but

chose not to say anything, partly, perhaps, because the Dursleys were

outnumbered two to one. Aunt Petunia looked both frightened and

embarrassed. She kept glancing around, as though terrified somebody

she knew would see her in such company. Dudley, meanwhile, seemed

to be trying to look small and insignificant, a feat at which he was fail-

ing extravagantly.

THE SECOND

WAR BEGINS

869

“We thought we’d just have a few words with you about Harry,”

said Mr. Weasley, still smiling.

“Yeah,” growled Moody. “About how he’s treated when he’s at your

place.”

Uncle Vernon’s mustache seemed to bristle with indignation. Possi-

bly because the bowler hat gave him the entirely mistaken impression

that he was dealing with a kindred spirit, he addressed himself to

Moody.

“I am not aware that it is any of your business what goes on in my

house —”

“I expect what you’re not aware of would fill several books, Durs-

ley,” growled Moody.

“Anyway, that’s not the point,” interjected Tonks, whose pink hair

seemed to offend Aunt Petunia more than all the rest put together, for

she closed her eyes rather than look at her. “The point is, if we find

out you’ve been horrible to Harry —”

“— and make no mistake, we’ll hear about it,” added Lupin

pleasantly.

“Yes,” said Mr. Weasley, “even if you won’t let Harry use the

fellytone —”

“Telephone,” whispered Hermione.

“Yeah, if we get any hint that Potter’s been mistreated in any way,

you’ll have us to answer to,” said Moody.

Uncle Vernon swelled ominously. His sense of outrage seemed to

outweigh even his fear of this bunch of oddballs.

“Are you threatening me, sir?” he said, so loudly that passersby ac-

tually turned to stare.