Waiting. The enchantments they had cast around themselves ought to be sufficient, in the

Near total darkness, to shield them from the notice of Muggles and normal witches and

Wizards. If these were Death Eaters, then perhaps their defenses were about to be tested

By Dark Magic for the first time.

The voices became louder but no more intelligible as the group of men reached

The bank. Harry estimated that their owners were fewer than twenty feet away, but the

Cascading river made it impossible to tell for sure. Hermione snatched up the beaded bag

And started to rummage; after a moment she drew out three Extendible Ears and threw

One each to Harry and Ron, who hastily inserted the ends of the flesh-colored strings into

Their ears and fed the other ends out of the tent entrance.

Within seconds Harry heard a weary male voice.

“There ought to be a few salmon in here, or d’you reckon it’s too early in the

season? Accio Salmon!”

There were several distinct splashes and then the slapping sounds of fish against

Flesh. Somebody grunted appreciatively. Harry pressed the Extendable ear deeper into his

own: Over the murmur of the river he could make out more voices, but they were not

Speaking English or any human language he had ever heard. It was a rough and

Unmelodious tongue, a string of rattling, guttural noises, and there seemed to be two

Speakers, one with a slightly lower, slower voice than the other.

A fire danced into life on the other side of the canvas, large shadows passed

Between tent and flames. The delicious smell of baking salmon wafted tantalizingly in

Their direction. Then came the clinking of cutlery on plates, and the first man spoke again.

“Here, Griphook, Gornuk.”

Goblins! Hermione mouthed at Harry, who nodded.

“Thank you,” said the goblins together in English.

“So, you three have been on the run how long?” asked a new, mellow, and

Pleasant voice; it was vaguely familiar to Harry, who pictured a round-bellied, cheerfulfaced

Man.

“Six weeks . . . Seven . . . I forget,” said the tired man. “Met up with Griphook in

The first couple of days and joined forces with Gornuk not long after. Nice to have a but

of company.” There was a pause, while knives scraped plates and tin mugs were picked

up and replaced on the ground. “What made you leave, Ted?” continued the man.

“Knew they were coming for me,” replied mellow-voiced Ted, and Harry

suddenly knew who he was: Tonks’s father. “Heard Death Eaters were in the area last

week and decided I’d better run for it. Refused to register as a Muggle-born on principle,

see, so I knew it was a matter of time, knew I’d have to leave in the end. My wife should

be okay, she’s pure-blood. And then I net Dean here, what, a few days ago, son?”

“Yeah,” said another voice, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at each other,

Silent but besides themselves with excitement, sure they recognized the voice of Dean

Thomas, their fellow Gryffindor.

“Muggle-born, eh?” asked the first man.

“Not sure ,” said Dean. “My dad left my mum when I was a kid. I’ve got no proof

he was a wizard, though.”

There was silence for a while, except for the sounds of munching; then Ted spoke

Again.

“I’ve got to say, Dirk, I’m surprised to run into you. Pleased, but surprised. Word

was that you’d been caught.”

“I was,” said Dirk. “I was halfway to Azkaban when I made a break for it.

Stunned Dawlish, and nicked his broom. It was easier than you’d think; I don’t reckon

he’s quite right at the moment .Might be Confunded. If so, I’d like to shake the hand of

the witch or wizard who did it, probably saved my life.”

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 722