Right over their heads and a ladder slid down to their feet. A horrible, half-sucking, halfmoaning

Sound came out of the square hole, along with an unpleasant smell like open

Drains.

“That’s your ghoul, isn’t it?” asked Harry, who had never actually met the

Creature that sometimes disrupted the nightly silence.

“Yeah, it is,” said Ron, climbing the ladder. “Come and have a look at him.”

Harry followed Ron up the few short steps into the tiny attic space. His head and

Shoulders were in the room before he caught sight of the creature curled up a few feet

From him, fast asleep in the gloom with its large mouth wide open.

“But it . . . it looks . . . do ghouls normally wear pajamas?”

“No,” said Ron. “Nor have they usually got red hair or that number of pustules.”

Harry contemplated the thing, slightly revolted. It was human in shape and size,

and was wearing what, now that Harry’s eyes became used to the darkness, was clearly

an old pair of Ron’s pajamas. He was also sure that ghouls were generally rather slimy

And bald, rather than distinctly hairy and covered in angry purple blisters.

“He’s me, see?” said Ron.

“No,” said Harry. “I don’t.”

“I’ll explain it back in my room, the smell’s getting to me,” said Ron. They

Climbed back down the ladder, which Ron returned to the ceiling, and rejoined Hermione,

Who was still sorting books.

“Once we’ve left, the ghoul’s going to come and live down here in my room,”

said Ron. “I think he’s really looking forward to it – well, it’s hard to tell, because all he

can do is moan and drool – but he nods a lot when you mention it. Anyway, he’s going to

be me with spattergroit. Good, eh?”

Harry merely looked his confusion.

“It is!” said Ron, clearly frustrated that Harry had not grasped the brilliance of the

plan. “Look, when we three don’t turn up at Hogwarts again, everyone’s going to think

Hermione and I must be with you, right? Which means the Death Eaters will go straight

for our families to see if they’ve got information on where you are.”

“But hopefully it’ll look like I’ve gone away with Mum and Dad; a lot of Muggleborns

are talking about going into hiding at the moment,” said Hermione.

“We can’t hide my whole family, it’ll look too fishy and they can’t all leave their

jobs,” said Ron. “So we’re going to put out the story that I’m seriously ill with

spattergroit, which is why I can’t go back to school. If anyone comes calling to

Investigate, Mum or Dad can show them the ghoul in my bed, covered in pustules.

Spattergroit’s really contagious, so they’re not going to want to go near him. It won’t

matter that he can’t say anything, either, because apparently you can’t once the fungus

has spread to your uvula.”

“And your mum and dad are in on this plan?” asked Harry.

“Dad is. He helped Fred and George transform the ghoul. Mum . . . well, you’ve

seen what she’s like. She won’t accept we’re going till we’re gone.”

There was silence in the room, broken only by gentle thuds as Hermione

Continued to throw books onto one pile or the other. Ron sat watching her, and Harry

Looked from one to the other, unable to say anything. The measure they had taken to

Protect their families made him realize, more than anything else could have done, that

They really were going to come with him and that they knew exactly how dangerous that

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 587