Harry Potter and the Triangle Prophecy - Sahits

spring. Then he hauled in the mattress and spring from the guestroom, leaving them without aplace for guests to sleep should there be any. However, Harry was fairly confident thatHermione would not be turning up on his doorstep this year. Sirius was not staying with theGrangers during the holiday, as he had the previous summer, but Hermione had hintedbroadly that another witch or wizard was going to be a guest and so she would have plenty ofprotection.When he’d finished putting his room in order again and it only smelled slightly damp, Harrycollapsed on his new mattress without benefit of sheets, exhausted, asleep almost as soon ashe put his glasses on the bedstand and his head on the pillow. In one month he would beseventeen. He could make it, he told himself as he dozed off. He could. He would not hex hisaunt and uncle’s roof so that it leaked like a sieve the next time it rained....But then that thought caused him to fall asleep with a broad smile on his face....* * * * *He was abruptly awoken by an odd whirring noise, it felt as though he’d only been asleep forfive minutes, but, judging by the sun in the east, it was already morning. When he’d beenassessing damage, he’d taken some damp magical supplies out of his slightly-flooded trunk,including his Pocket Sneak-O-Scope, which he’d left on his desk. He groaned. That stupidthing again. Normally he kept it in the bottom of the trunk stuffed in one of the crazy handknitsocks Dobby the house-elf had given him, but he’d thrown the damp socks out thewindow along with his mattress.He groaned as the small metal ball continued whirring and clicking. He pulled on his runningshorts and a clean shirt, tied his running shoes. What the hell was wrong with the thing? Hewent to the desk to examine it, glancing carelessly out the window at the milkman, who wasmaking a delivery to a house two doors away. Except he wasn’t. He had put down a plasticcrate of dairy supplies and appeared to be holding a wand, pointing it at the door and sayingsomething Harry couldn’t hear. Without pausing for a second, he shoved the Sneak-O-Scopeinto the pocket of his shorts and sprinted down the steps and out the front door, racing to theneighbors’ house by leaping over the intervening hedges.In his rubber-soled shoes he’d been fairly quiet, despite the fact that to him his breathing andheartbeat were deafeningly loud. The intruder was already in the house and didn’t notice thathe had been seen. When Harry reached the open doorway, he held out his hand and cried,“Expelliarmus! just as the ersatz milkman was turning around. The startled man flewbackward and hit his head on the wall, and a framed picture next to his head crashed to thefloor, the glass shattering. The wand flew neatly into Harry’s hand. He stared at it. Bollocks.What now? The Sneak-O-Scope had stopped going mad, perhaps because the “milkman” wasout cold. The wand was only seven inches, so Harry stuffed it into his sock. He ran back to hishouse, leaving the door to his neighbor’s house open, the slumped man still on the floor, theplastic crate of dairy products growing warm on the front walk.He picked up the telephone in the kitchen and struggled to remember Mrs. Figg’s number fora moment; when he looked up and saw it on a slip of paper on the fridge door it was the firsttime in his life he felt like kissing his aunt. He dialed the number, tapping his toe impatiently,starting to wonder whether it would have been faster to just go to her house. At length,someone answered.16