Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Дж. К. Роулинг

he said loudly, his voice ringing through the kitchen. ‘No way!’

      ‘I told them you’d take it like this,’ said Hermione, with a hint of complacency.

      ‘If you think I’m going to let six people risk their lives –!’

      ‘– because it’s the first time for all of us,’ said Ron.

      ‘This is different, pretending to be me –’

      ‘Well, none of us really fancy it, Harry,’ said Fred earnestly. ‘Imagine if something went wrong and we were stuck as specky, scrawny gits forever.’

      Harry did not smile.

      ‘You can’t do it if I don’t cooperate, you need me to give you some hair.’

      ‘Well, that’s that plan scuppered,’ said George. ‘Obviously there’s no chance at all of us getting a bit of your hair unless you cooperate.’

      ‘Yeah, thirteen of us against one bloke who’s not allowed to use magic; we’ve got no chance,’ said Fred.

      ‘Funny,’ said Harry. ‘Really amusing.’

      ‘If it has to come to force, then it will,’ growled Moody, his magical eye now quivering a little in its socket as he glared at Harry. ‘Everyone here’s over-age, Potter, and they’re all prepared to take the risk.’

      Mundungus shrugged and grimaced; the magical eye swerved sideways to glare at him out of the side of Moody’s head.

      ‘Let’s have no more arguments. Time’s wearing on. I want a few of your hairs, boy, now.’

      ‘But this is mad, there’s no need –’

      ‘No need!’ snarled Moody. ‘With You-Know-Who out there and half the Ministry on his side? Potter, if we’re lucky, he’ll have swallowed the fake bait and he’ll be planning to ambush you on the thirtieth, but he’d be mad not to have a Death Eater or two keeping an eye out, it’s what I’d do. They might not be able to get at you or this house while your mother’s charm holds, but it’s about to break and they know the rough position of the place. Our only chance is to use decoys. Even You-Know-Who can’t split himself into seven.’

      Harry caught Hermione’s eye and looked away at once.

      ‘So, Potter – some of your hair, if you please.’

      Harry glanced at Ron, who grimaced at him in a just-do-it sort of way.

      ‘Now!’ barked Moody.

      With all of their eyes upon him, Harry reached up to the top of his head, grabbed a hank of hair and pulled.

      ‘Good,’ said Moody, limping forwards as he pulled the stopper out of the flask of Potion. ‘Straight in here, if you please.’

      Harry dropped the hair into the mud-like liquid. The moment it made contact with its surface the Potion began to froth and smoke then, all at once, it turned a clear, bright gold.

      ‘Ooh, you look much tastier than Crabbe and Goyle, Harry,’ said Hermione, before catching sight of Ron’s raised eyebrows, blushing slightly and saying, ‘oh, you know what I mean – Goyle’s Potion looked like bogies.’

      ‘Right then, fake Potters line up over here, please,’ said Moody.

      Ron, Hermione, Fred, George and Fleur lined up in front of Aunt Petunia’s gleaming sink.

      ‘We’re one short,’ said Lupin.

      ‘Here,’ said Hagrid gruffly, and he lifted Mundungus by the scruff of the neck and dropped him down beside Fleur, who wrinkled her nose pointedly and moved along to stand between Fred and George instead.

      ‘I’ve toldjer, I’d sooner be a protector,’ said Mundungus.

      ‘Shut it,’ growled Moody. ‘As I’ve already told you, you spineless worm, any Death Eaters we run into will be aiming to capture Potter, not kill him. Dumbledore always said You-Know-Who would want to finish Potter in person. It’ll be the protectors who have got the most to worry about, the Death Eaters’ll want to kill them.’

      Mundungus did not look particularly reassured, but Moody was already pulling half a dozen egg-cup-sized glasses from inside his cloak, which he handed out, before pouring a little Polyjuice Potion into each one.

      ‘Altogether, then …’

      Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Fleur and Mundungus drank. All of them gasped and grimaced as the Potion hit their throats: at once, their features began to bubble and distort like hot wax. Hermione and Mundungus were shooting upwards; Ron, Fred and George were shrinking; their hair was darkening, Hermione’s and Fleur’s appearing to shoot backwards into their skulls.

      Moody, quite unconcerned, was now loosening the ties of the large sacks he had brought with him: when he straightened up again, there were six Harry Potters gasping and panting in front of him.

      Fred and George turned to each other and said together, ‘Wow – we’re identical!’

      ‘I dunno, though, I think I’m still better-looking,’ said Fred, examining his reflection in the kettle.

      ‘Bah,’ said Fleur, checking herself in the microwave door, ‘Bill, don’t look at me – I’m ’ideous.’

      ‘Those whose clothes are a bit roomy, I’ve got smaller here,’ said Moody, indicating the first sack, ‘and vice versa. Don’t forget the glasses, there’s six pairs in the side pocket. And when you’re dressed, there’s luggage in the other sack.’

      The real Harry thought that this might just be the most bizarre thing he had ever seen, and he had seen some extremely odd things. He watched as his six doppelgängers rummaged in the sacks, pulling out sets of clothes, putting on glasses, stuffing their own things away. He felt like asking them to show a little more respect for his privacy as they all began stripping off with impunity, clearly much more at ease with displaying his body than they would have been with their own.

      ‘I knew Ginny was lying about that tattoo,’ said Ron, looking down at his bare chest.

      ‘Harry, your eyesight really is awful,’ said Hermione, as she put on glasses.

      Once dressed, the fake Harrys took rucksacks and owl cages, each containing a stuffed snowy owl, from the second sack.

      ‘Good,’ said Moody, as at last seven dressed, bespectacled and luggage-laden Harrys faced him. ‘The pairs will be as follows: Mundungus will be travelling with me, by broom –’

      ‘Why’m I with you?’ grunted the Harry nearest the back door.

      ‘Because you’re the one that needs watching,’ growled Moody, and sure enough, his magical eye did not waver from Mundungus as he continued, ‘Arthur and Fred –’

      ‘I’m George,’ said the twin at whom Moody was pointing. ‘Can’t you even tell us apart when we’re Harry?’

      ‘Sorry, George –’

      ‘I’m only yanking your wand, I’m Fred really –’

      ‘Enough messing around!’ snarled Moody. ‘The other one – George or Fred or whoever you are – you’re with Remus. Miss Delacour –’

      ‘I’m taking Fleur on a Thestral,’ said Bill. ‘She’s not that fond of brooms.’

      Fleur walked over to stand beside him, giving him a soppy, slavish look that Harry hoped with all his heart would never appear on his face again.

      ‘Miss Granger with Kingsley, again by Thestral –’

      Hermione looked reassured as she answered Kingsley’s smile; Harry knew that Hermione, too, lacked confidence on a broomstick.

      ‘Which leaves you and me, Ron!’ said Tonks brightly, knocking over a mug-tree as she waved at him.

      Ron did not look quite as pleased as Hermione.

      ‘An’ you’re with me, Harry. That all righ’?’ said Hagrid, looking a little anxious. ‘We’ll