Harry Potter and the Triangle Prophecy - Sahits

walked down the neat path to the front door. Harry withdrew into the doorway to the diningroom. Where the hell was Mrs. Figg and someone from the magical authorities?The constables were very similar, brown-haired young men not much older than Harry, itseemed, who had probably been up all night and were waiting to go home when thishappened.“Scott,” said one of them, “where did she say the control panel is?”The other one consulted a small notebook he withdrew from his pocket. “Um--next to theback door.”The two officers walked right toward Harry, who neatly sidestepped them so they could passthrough the dining room on the way to the kitchen. He followed them. The one who wasn’tScott went to an electronic control panel with flashing lights and punched in a code he readfrom the same small notebook. The flashing lights stilled and both young men breathed a sighof relief.“Well, that’ll stop the alarm bell at the monitoring station. The girl there says this lot are onholiday for the next month. Called before they left. Silent alarm here in the house, luckily.The neighbors probably weren’t disturbed. We’d better see about that bloke on the floor.”The three of them went back to examine the milkman. The officers tried to get him to comeround, with no success. Harry knew that no Muggle method of rejuvenation would work.Only the Enervate counter-spell could waken a stunned person.After they’d been trying for what seemed to Harry several days, they gave up. “Dunno what’swrong wif’im, Bert. Got a pulse, but not really doin’ much breathin’....”Bert picked up the hall phone and dialed. “Right. Ambulance...” He gave the address andhung up. In no time, the ambulance was pulling into the drive, and still neither Mrs. Figg norDraco Malfoy had arrived, and no one from the Ministry of Magic either. The Muggles weregoing to take him somewhere. Harry couldn’t decide whether that was good or bad. Good ifMrs. Figg or the other operatives could figure out where he was; bad if the Death Eatersfigured it out first and went to retrieve him.He watched, resigned, as they bore him outside. He slipped out the door with the police,practically tripping over the crate of milk bottles and eggs. The officers closed the door, thenthe one called Bert stared at it. “Family on holiday,” he mused, “milkman breaks in, as thoughdesperate to deliver his wares, he gets knocked silly and can’t be brought round....”His partner seemed less interested in actually working out what happened; he was trying tomake sure they had all of their T’s crossed and I’s dotted. “We’ll have to call the dairy. So’sthey know what’s happened to their man. And what’ll we do about the deliveries?” Scottwanted to know. Bert stared at him.“What?”“Well, there’s all these people expecting their milk and eggs on their doorstep like always,and there’s no one to do it today, is there? How are they to know what’s happened? What willthey think?”18