In the second row, a dumpy wizard with a large black moustache leaned close to whisper in the ear of his neighbour, a frizzy-haired witch. She smirked and nodded.
'Level Five, Department of International Magical Co-operation, incorporating the International Magical Trading Standards Body, the International Magical Office of Law and the International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats.'
'I'm a resident of Little Whinging, close to where Harry Potter lives,' said Mrs Figg.
That is what happened,' Mrs Figg repeated.
'Mr Weasley, I think this might be out of order, too,' Harry said.
Mr Weasley skidded to a halt beside the lifts and jabbed impatiently at the 'down' button.
'I've b - b - been up all night,' she said, with another shuddering yawn. 'Come and sit down . . .'
'Oh, I don't know,' said Madam Bones, in her booming voice. 'She certainly described the effects of a Dementor attack very accurately. And I can't imagine why she would say they were there if they weren't.'
'Yes,' said Harry, feeling both impatient and slightly desperate, 'it's a stag, it's always a stag.'
'I did it because of the Dementors!' he said loudly, before anyone could interrupt him again.
'Just inter-departmental memos,' Mr Weasley muttered to him. 'We used to use owls, but the mess was unbelievable . . . droppings a I over the desks
- 布兰科：法国主帅不好当 “刺头球员太多”
Snape might refer to their work as 'cleaning', but in Harry's opinion they were really waging war on the house, which was putting up a very good fight, aided and abetted by Kreacher. The house-elf kept appearing wherever they were congregated, his muttering becoming more and more offensive as he attempted to remove anything he could from the rubbish sacks. Sirius went as far as to threaten him with clothes, but Kreacher fixed him with a watery stare and said, 'Master must do as Master wishes,' before turning away and muttering very loudly, 'but Master will not turn Kreacher away, no, because Kreacher knows what they are up to, oh yes, he is plotting against the Dark Lord, yes, with these Mudblood and traitors and scum . . .'
Harry produced his wand. The wizard dropped it on to a strange brass instrument, which looked something like a set of scales with only one dish. It began to vibrate. A narrow strip of parchment came speeding out of a slit in the base. The wizard tore this off and read the writing on it.
'Yeah,' said Harry.
'Hang on . . .' said the wizard slowly.
'Yes, sir,' said an eager voice Harry knew. Ron's brother Percy was sitting at the very end of the front bench. Harry looked at Percy, expecting some sign of recognition from him, but none came. Percy's eyes, behind his horn-rimmed glasses, were fixed on his parchment, a quill poised in his hand.
Then,' said Dumbledore, quietly but clearly, 'we must ask ourselves why somebody within the Ministry ordered a pair of Dementors into that alleyway on the second of August.'
The floor of the telephone box shuddered. They were sinking slowly into the ground. Harry watched apprehensively as the pavement seemed to rise up past the glass windows of the telephone box until darkness closed over their heads. Then he could see nothing at all; he could hear only a dull grinding noise as the telephone box made its way down through the earth. After about a minute, though it felt much longer to Harry, a chink of golden light illuminated his feet and, widening, rose up his body, until it hit him in the face and he had to blink to stop his eyes watering.