Aspettando...la traduzione!
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Da un paio di mesi è uscito il nuovo libro della Rowling "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" quinto della saga del giovane mago. Aspettando la traduzione "ufficiale", preannunciata per fine Ottobre, proverò a tradurre qualche brano del primo capitolo.

I brani in lingua originale inglese, tratti dal primo capitolo del suddetto libro, li ritrovate qui.

Chi vorrà potrà aiutarmi, inviandomi il brano tradotto tramite e-mail all'indirizzo:
potter@blogoltre.it

Sarà mia cura pubblicarne di volta in volta la traduzione in questo spazio, con il nome o il nick del traduttore.

Per la legge sui diritti d'autore in ogni caso non potrò pubblicare se non piccoli brani, per il resto... scrivetemi (mailoltre@TOGLIblogoltre.it).

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Ricevo questa e-mail, che rendo pubblica:
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Salve Pietro

Sono Danilo Moi, webmaster del sito www.attivista.com
Sono intervenuto ieri sera sul tuo blog, con due post.

Ti scrivo in privato perchè non mi sembra carino fare critiche
pubblicamente.

Trovo però che questa proposta di tradurre Harry Potter possa essere un'arma
a doppio taglio.

Se è sicuramente una buona trovata pubblicitaria è però anche un buon modo
per "sputtanarsi".

Sai, Harry Potter è senza dubbio un best seller però non lo si può certo
definire "alta letteratura".

Questa ovviamente è solo una mia opinione, libero di mandarmi aff.. :-)

Buon lavoro
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Che ne pensate?
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HARRY POTTER and the order of the Phoenix - Copyright 2003 J.K. Rowling - Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

PAGE 7 -----------------------------------------------------------------
The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and
a drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive.
Cars that were usually gleaming stood dusty in their drives and
lawns that were once emerald green lay parched and yellowing -
for the use of hosepipes had been banned due to drought. Deprived
of their usual car-washing and lawn-mowing pursuits, the inhab-
itants of Privet Drive had retreated into the shade of their cool
houses, windows thrown wide in the hope of tempting in a non-
existent breeze. The only person left outdoors was a teenage boy
who was lying flat on his back in a flowerbed outside number four.
He was a skinny, black-haired, bespectacled boy who had the
pinched, slightly unhealthy look of someone who has grown a lot
in a short space of time. His jeans were torn and dirty, his T-shirt
baggy and faded, and the soles of his trainers were peeling away
from the uppers. Harry Potter's appearance did not endear him
to the neighbours, who were the sort of people who thought scruffi-
ness ought to be punishable by law, but as he had hidden him-
self behind a large hydrangea bush this evening he was quite
invisible to passers-by In fact, the only way he would be spotted
was if his Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia stuck their heads out of
the living-room window and looked straight down into the
flowerbed below.
On the whole. Harry thought he was to be congratulated on his
idea of hiding here. He was not, perhaps, very comfortable lying on
the hot, hard earth but, on the other hand, nobody was glaring at
him, grinding their teeth so loudly that he could not hear the news,
or shooting nasty questions at him, as had happened every time he

PAGE 8 -----------------------------------------------------------------
had tried sitting down in the living room to watch television with
his aunt and uncle.
Almost as though this thought had fluttered through the open
window, Vernon Dursley Harry's uncle, suddenly spoke.
'Glad to see the boy's stopped trying to butt in. Where is he,
anyway?'
'I don't know,' said Aunt Petunia, unconcerned. 'Not in the house.'
Uncle Vernon grunted.
'Watching the news ...'he said scathingly 'I'd like to know what
he's really up to. As if a normal boy cares what's on the news -
Dudley hasn't got a clue what's going on; doubt he knows who the
Prime Minister is! Anyway, it's not as if there'd be anything about
his lot on our news -'
'Vemon, shW said Aunt Petunia. 'The window's open'.'
'Oh - yes - sorry, dear.'
The Dursleys fell silent. Harry listened to a jingle about Fruit
'n' Bran breakfast cereal while he watched Mrs Figg, a batty cat-
loving old lady from nearby Wisteria Walk, amble slowly past. She
was frowning and muttering to herself. Harry was very pleased he
was concealed behind the bush, as Mrs Figg had recently taken to
asking him round for tea whenever she met him in the street. She
had rounded the corner and vanished from view before Uncle
Vernon's voice floated out of the window again.
'Dudders out for tea?'
'At the Polkisses',' said Aunt Petunia fondly 'He's got so many
little friends, he's so popular ...'
Harry suppressed a snort with difficulty The Dursleys really
were astonishingly stupid about their son, Dudley They had swal-
lowed all his dim-witted lies about having tea with a different
member of his gang every night of the summer holidays. Harry
knew perfectly well that Dudley had not been to tea anywhere; he
and his gang spent every evening vandalising the play park, smoking
on street corners and throwing stones at passing cars and children.
Harry had seen them at it during his evening walks around Little
Whinging; he had spent most of the holidays wandering the streets,
scavenging newspapers from bins along the way
The opening notes of the music that heralded the seven o'clock

PAGE 9 -----------------------------------------------------------------
news reached Harry's ears and his stomach turned over. Perhaps
tonight - after a month of waiting - would be the night.
•Record numbers of stranded holidaymakersful airports as the Spanish
baggage-handlers' strike reaches its second week -'
-Give 'em a lifelong siesta, I would; snarled Uncle Vemon over the
end of the newsreader's sentence, but no matter: outside in the
flowerbed Harry's stomach seemed to unclench. If anything had hap-
pened it would surely have been the first item on the news; death
and destruction were more important than stranded holidaymakers.
He let out a long, slow breath and stared up at the brilliant blue
sky Every day this summer had been the same: the tension, the
expectation, the temporary relief, and then mounting tension again
... and always, growing more insistent all the time, the question
of why nothing had happened yet.
He kept listening, just in case there was some small clue, not
recognised for what it really was by the Muggles - an unexplained
disappearance, perhaps, or some strange accident ... but the
baggage-handlers' strike was followed by news about the drought
in the Southeast (•! hope he's listening next door!' bellowed Uncle
Vernon 'Him with his sprinklers on at three in the morning!),
then a helicopter that had almost crashed in a field in Surrey then
a famous actress's divorce from her famous husband ('As if we're
interested in their sordid affairs,' sniffed Aunt Petunia, who had
followed the case obsessively in every magazine she could lay her
bony hands on).
Harry closed his eyes against the now blazing evening sky as the
newsreader said, - and finally, Bungy the budgie has found a novel way
of keeping cool this summer. Bungy, who lives at the Five Feathers m
Bamsley has learned to water ski! Mary Dorkins went to find out more.'
Harry opened his eyes. If they had reached water-skiing budgen-
ears there would be nothing else worth hearing. He rolled cau-
tiously on to his front and raised himself on to his knees and
elbows preparing to crawl out from under the window.
He had moved about two inches when several things happened
in very quick succession.
A loud echoing crack broke the sleepy silence like a gunshot;
a cat streaked out from under a parked car and Hew out of sight; a

PAGE 10 -----------------------------------------------------------------
shriek, a bellowed oath and the sound of breaking china came from
the Dursleys' living room, and as though this was the signal Harry
had been waiting for he jumped to his feet, at the same time pulling
from the waistband of his jeans a thin wooden wand as if he were
unsheathing a sword - but before he could draw himself up to full
height, the top of his head collided with the Dursleys' open window.
The resultant crash made Aunt Petunia scream even louder.
Harry felt as though his head had been split in two. Eyes
streaming, he swayed, trying to focus on the street to spot the
source of the noise, but he had barely staggered upright when two
large purple hands reached through the open window and closed
tightly around his throat.
'put -it- away!' Uncle Vernon snarled into Harry's ear. 'Now.'
Before - anyone - sees!'
-Get - off - me!' Harry gasped. For a few seconds they strug-
gled, Harry pulling at his uncle's sausage-like fingers with his left
hand, his right maintaining a firm grip on his raised wand; then,
as the pain in the top of Harry's head gave a particularly nasty
throb. Uncle Vernon yelped and released Harry as though he had
received an electric shock. Some invisible force seemed to have
surged through his nephew, making him impossible to hold.
Panting, Harry fell forwards over the hydrangea bush, straight-
ened up and stared around. There was no sign of what had caused
the loud cracking noise, but there were several faces peering through
various nearby windows. Harry stuffed his wand hastily back into
his jeans and tried to look innocent.
'Lovely evening!' shouted Uncle Vemon, waving at Mrs Number
Seven opposite, who was glaring from behind her net curtains.
'Did you hear that car backfire just now? Gave Petunia and me
quite a turn!'
He continued to grin in a horrible, manic way until all the
curious neighbours had disappeared from their various windows,
then the grin became a grimace of rage as he beckoned Harry back
towards him.
Harry moved a few steps closer, taking care to stop just short
of the point at which Uncle Vernon's outstretched hands could
resume their strangling.

PAGE 11 -----------------------------------------------------------------
'What the devil do you mean by it, boy?' asked Uncle Vernon
in a croaky voice that trembled with fury.
'What do I mean by what?' said Harry coldly He kept looking
left and right up the street, still hoping to see the person who had
made the cracking noise.
'Making a racket like a starting pistol right outside our -'
'I didn't make that noise,' said Harry firmly
Aunt Petunia's thin, horsy face now appeared beside Uncle
Vernon's wide, purple one. She looked livid.
'Why were you lurking under our window?'
-Yes - yes, good point, Petunia! What were you doing under our
window, bo_y?'
'Listening to the news,' said Harry in a resigned voice.
His aunt and uncle exchanged looks of outrage.
'Listening to the news! Again?'
'Well, it changes every day, you see,' said Harry.
'Don't you be clever with me, boy! I want to know what you're
really up to - and don't give me any more of this listening to the
news tosh! You know perfectly well that your lot -
'Careful, Vernon!' breathed Aunt Petunia, and Uncle Vernon
lowered his voice so that Harry could barely hear him,'- that your
lot don't get on our news!'
'That's all you know,' said Harry.
The Dursleys goggled at him for a few seconds, then Aunt
Petunia said, 'You're a nasty little liar. What are all those -' she,
too, lowered her voice so that Harry had to lip-read the next word,
'- owls doing if they're not bringing you news?'
'Aha'' said Uncle Vernon in a triumphant whisper. 'Get out of
that one, boy! As if we didn't know you get all your news from
those pestilential birds!'
Harry hesitated for a moment. It cost him something to tell the
truth this time, even though his aunt and uncle could not possibly
know how bad he felt at admitting it.
'The owls ... aren't bringing me news,' he said tonelessly
'I don't believe it,' said Aunt Petunia at once.
'No more do I,' said Uncle Vernon forcefully
'We know you're up to something funny,' said Aunt Petunia.

PAGE 12 -----------------------------------------------------------------
'We're not stupid, you know,' said Uncle Vernon.
'Well, that's news to me,' said Harry, his temper rising, and before
the Dursleys could call him back, he had wheeled about, crossed
the front lawn, stepped over the low garden wall and was striding
off up the street.
He was in trouble now and he knew it. He would have to face
his aunt and uncle later and pay the price for his rudeness, but
he did not care very much just at the moment; he had much more
pressing matters on his mind.
Harry was sure the cracking noise had been made by someone
Apparating or Disapparating. It was exactly the sound Dobby the
house-elf made when he vanished into thin air. Was it possible
that Dobby was here in Privet Drive? Could Dobby be following
him right at this very moment? As this thought occurred he wheeled
around and stared back down Privet Drive, but it appeared to be
completely deserted and Harry was sure that Dobby did not know
how to become invisible.
He walked on, hardly aware of the route he was taking, for he
had pounded these streets so often lately that his feet carried him
to his favourite haunts automatically. Every few steps he glanced
back over his shoulder. Someone magical had been near him as
he lay among Aunt Petunia's dying begonias, he was sure of it.
Why hadn't they spoken to him, why hadn't they made contact,
why were they hiding now?
And then, as his feeling of frustration peaked, his certainty
leaked away.
Perhaps it hadn't been a magical sound after all. Perhaps he was
so desperate for the tiniest sign of contact from the world to which
he belonged that he was simply overreacting to perfectly ordinary
noises. Could he be sure it hadn't been the sound of something
breaking inside a neighbour's house?
Harry felt a dull, sinking sensation in his stomach and before
he knew it the feeling of hopelessness that had plagued him all
summer rolled over him once again.
Tomorrow morning he would be woken by the alarm at five
o'clock so he could pay the owl that delivered the Daily Prophet -
but was there any point continuing to take it? Harry merely glanced

[mancano le pagine 13-14-15...]

PAGE 16 -----------------------------------------------------------------
himself thinking as he watched them. Come on ... look round ...
I'm sitting here all alone ... come and have a go ...
If Dudley's friends saw him sitting here, they would be sure to
make a beeline for him, and what would Dudley do then? He
wouldn't want to lose face in front of the gang, but he'd be terri-
fied of provoking Harry ... it would be really fun to watch Dudley's
dilemma, to taunt him, watch him, with him powerless to respond
... and if any of the others tried hitting Harry, he was ready - he
had his wand. Let them try ... he'd love to vent some of his frus-
tration on the boys who had once made his life hell.
But they didn't turn around, they didn't see him, they were almost
at the railings. Harry mastered the impulse to call after them ...
seeking a fight was not a smart move ... he must not use magic
... he would be risking expulsion again.
The voices of Dudley's gang died away; they were out of sight,
heading along Magnolia Road.
There you go, 5irius, Harry thought dully. Nothing rash. Kept my
nose clean. Exactly the opposite of what you'd have done.
He got to his feet and stretched. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon
seemed to feel that whenever Dudley turned up was the right time
to be home, and any time after that was much too late. Uncle
Vernon had threatened to lock Harry in the shed if he came home
after Dudley ever again, so, stifling a yawn, and still scowling,
Harry set off towards the park gate.
Magnolia Road, like Privet Drive, was full of large, square houses
with perfectly manicured lawns, all owned by large, square owners
who drove very clean cars similar to Uncle Vernon's. Harry pre-
ferred Little Whinging by night, when the curtained windows made
patches of jewel-bright colour in the darkness and he ran no danger
of hearing disapproving mutters about his 'delinquent' appearance
when he passed the householders. He walked quickly, so that
halfway along Magnolia Road Dudley's gang came into view again;
they were saying their farewells at the entrance to Magnolia Crescent.
Harry stepped into the shadow of a large lilac tree and waited.
'... squealed like a pig, didn't he?' Malcolm was saying, to guf-
faws from the others.
'Nice right hook, Big D,' said Piers.

PAGE 17 -----------------------------------------------------------------
'Same time tomorrow?' said Dudley.
'Round at my place, my parents will be out,' said Gordon.
'See you then,' said Dudley.
'Bye, Dud!'
'See ya, Big D!'
Harry waited for the rest of the gang to move on before setting
off again. When their voices had faded once more he headed around
the corner into Magnolia Crescent and by walking very quickly he
soon came within hailing distance of Dudley, who was strolling
along at his ease, humming tunelessly.
'Hey, Big D!'
Dudley turned.
'Oh,' he grunted. 'It's you.'
'How long have you been "Big D" then?' said Harry.
'Shut it,' snarled Dudley, turning away.
'Cool name,' said Harry, grinning and falling into step beside
his cousin. 'But you'll always be "Ickle Diddykins" to me.'
'I said, SHUT IT!' said Dudley, whose ham-like hands had curled
into fists.
'Don't the boys know that's what your mum calls you?'
'Shut your face.'
'You don't tell her to shut her face. What about "Popkin" and
"Dinky Diddydums", can I use them then?'
Dudley said nothing. The effort of keeping himself from hitting
Harry seemed to demand all his self-control.
'So who've you been beating up tonight?' Harry asked, his grin
fading. 'Another ten-year-old? I know you did Mark Evans two
nights ago -'
'He was asking for it,' snarled Dudley.
'Oh yeah?'
'He cheeked me.'
'Yeah? Did he say you look like a pig that's been taught to walk
on its hind legs? 'Cause that's not cheek. Dud, that's true.'
A muscle was twitching in Dudley's jaw. It gave Harry enormous
satisfaction to know how furious he was making Dudley; he felt
as though he was siphoning off his own frustration into his cousin,
the only outlet he had.

PAGE 18 -----------------------------------------------------------------
They turned right down the narrow alleyway where Harry had
first seen Sirius and which formed a short cut between Magnolia
Crescent and Wisteria Walk. It was empty and much darker than
the streets it linked because there were no streetlamps. Their foot-
steps were muffled between garage walls on one side and a high
fence on the other.
'Think you're a big man carrying that thing, don't you?' Dudley
said after a few seconds.
'What thing?'
'That - that thing you are hiding.'
Harry grinned again.
'Not as stupid as you look, are you. Dud? But I s'pose, if you
were, you wouldn't be able to walk and talk at the same time.'
Harry pulled out his wand. He saw Dudley look sideways
at it.
'You're not allowed,' Dudley said at once. 'I know you're not.
You'd get expelled from that freak school you go to.'
'How d'you know they haven't changed the rules. Big D?'
'They haven't,' said Dudley, though he didn't sound completely
convinced.
Harry laughed softly.
'You haven't got the guts to take me on without that thing, have
you?' Dudley snarled.
'Whereas you just need four mates behind you before you can
beat up a ten year old. You know that boxing title you keep banging
on about? How old was your opponent? Seven? Eight?'
'He was sixteen, for your information,' snarled Dudley, 'and he
was out cold for twenty minutes after I'd finished with him and
he was twice as heavy as you. You just wait till I tell Dad you had
that thing out -'
'Running to Daddy now, are you? Is his ickle boxing champ
frightened of nasty Harry's wand?'
'Not this brave at night, are you?' sneered Dudley.
'This is night, Diddykins. That's what we call it when it goes all
dark like this.'
'I mean when you're in bed!' Dudley snarled.
He had stopped walking. Harry stopped too, staring at his cousin.

PAGE 19 -----------------------------------------------------------------
From the little he could see of Dudley's large face, he was wearing
a strangely triumphant look.
'What d'you mean, I'm not brave when I'm in bed?' said Harry,
completely nonplussed. 'What am I supposed to be frightened of,
pillows or something?'
'I heard you last night,' said Dudley breathlessly. 'Talking in your
sleep. Moaning.'
'What d'you mean?' Harry said again, but there was a cold,
plunging sensation in his stomach. He had revisited the graveyard
last night in his dreams.
Dudley gave a harsh bark of laughter, then adopted a high-
pitched whimpering voice.
'"Don't kill Cedric! Don't kill Cedric!" Who's Cedric - your
boyfriend?'
'I - you're lying,' said Harry automatically. But his mouth had
gone dry. He knew Dudley wasn't lying - how else would he know
about Cedric?
'"Dad! Help me, Dad! He's going to kill me, Dad! Boo hoo!"'
'Shut up,' said Harry quietly. 'Shut up, Dudley, I'm warning you!'
'"Come and help me, Dad! Mum, come and help me! He's killed
Cedric! Dad, help me! He's going to -" Don't you point that thing at
me!'
Dudley backed into the alley wall. Harry was pointing the wand
directly at Dudley's heart. Harry could feel fourteen years' hatred
of Dudley pounding in his veins - what wouldn't he give to strike
now, to jinx Dudley so thoroughly he'd have to crawl home like
an insect, struck dumb, sprouting feelers ...
'Don't ever talk about that again,' Harry snarled. 'D'you under-
stand me?'
'Point that thing somewhere else!'
'I said, do you understand me?'
'Point it somewhere else!'
'DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?'
'GET THAT THING AWAY FROM -'
Dudley gave an odd, shuddering gasp, as though he had been
doused in icy water.
Something had happened to the night. The star-strewn indigo

PAGE 20 -----------------------------------------------------------------
sky was suddenly pitch black and lightless - the stars, the moon,
the misty streetlamps at either end of the alley had vanished. The
distant rumble of cars and the whisper of trees had gone. The
balmy evening was suddenly piercingly, bitingly cold. They were
surrounded by total, impenetrable, silent darkness, as though some
giant hand had dropped a thick, icy mantle over the entire alleyway,
blinding them.
For a split second Harry thought he had done magic without
meaning to, despite the fact that he'd been resisting as hard as he
could - then his reason caught up with his senses - he didn't have
the power to turn off the stars. He turned his head this way and
that, trying to see something, but the darkness pressed on his eyes
like a weightless veil.
Dudley's terrified voice broke in Harry's ear.
'W-what are you d-doing? St-stop it!'
'I'm not doing anything! Shut up and don't move!'
'I c-can't see! I've g-gone blind! I -'
'I said shut up!'
Harry stood stock still, turning his sightless eyes left and right.
The cold was so intense he was shivering all over; goose bumps
had erupted up his arms and the hairs on the back of his neck
were standing up - he opened his eyes to their fullest extent, staring
blankly around, unseeing.
It was impossible ... they couldn't be here ... not in Little
Whinging ... he strained his ears ... he would hear them before
he saw them ...
'I'll t-tell Dad!' Dudley whimpered. 'W-where are you? What are
you d-do—?'
'Will you shut up?' Harry hissed, 'I'm trying to lis—'
But he fell silent. He had heard just the thing he had been
dreading.
There was something in the alleyway apart from themselves,
something that was drawing long, hoarse, rattling breaths. Harry
felt a horrible jolt of dread as he stood trembling in the freezing
air.
'C-cut it out! Stop doing it! I'll h-hit you, I swear I will!'
'Dudley, shut—'

PAGE 21 -----------------------------------------------------------------
WHAM.
A fist made contact with the side of Harry's head, lifting him
off his feet. Small white lights popped in front of his eyes. For the
second time in an hour Harry felt as though his head had been
cleaved in two; next moment, he had landed hard on the ground
and his wand had flown out of his hand.
'You moron, Dudley!' Harry yelled, his eyes watering with pain
as he scrambled to his hands and knees, feeling around frantically
in the blackness. He heard Dudley blundering away, hitting the
alley fence, stumbling.
'DUDLEY, COME BACK! YOU'RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!'
There was a horrible squealing yell and Dudley's footsteps
stopped. At the same moment. Harry felt a creeping chill behind
him that could mean only one thing. There was more than one.
'DUDLEY, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! WHATEVER YOU DO,
KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! Wand!' Harry muttered frantically,
his hands flying over the ground like spiders. 'Where's - wand -
come on - lumos.''
He said the spell automatically, desperate for light to help him
in his search - and to his disbelieving relief, light flared inches
from his right hand - the wand tip had ignited. Harry snatched it
up, scrambled to his feet and turned around.
His stomach turned over.
A towering, hooded figure was gliding smoothly towards him,
hovering over the ground, no feet or face visible beneath its robes,
sucking on the night as it came.
Stumbling backwards. Harry raised his wand.
'Expecto patronum!'
A silvery wisp of vapour shot from the tip of the wand and the
Dementor slowed, but the spell hadn't worked properly; tripping
over his own feet. Harry retreated further as the Dementor bore
down upon him, panic fogging his brain - concentrate -
A pair of grey, slimy, scabbed hands slid from inside the
Dementor's robes, reaching for him. A rushing noise filled Harry's
ears.
'Expecto patronum!'
His voice sounded dim and distant. Another wisp of silver smoke,

PAGE 22 -----------------------------------------------------------------
feebler than the last, drifted from the wand - he couldn't do it any
more, he couldn't work the spell.
There was laughter inside his own head, shrill, high-pitched
laughter ... he could smell the Dementor's putrid, death-cold breath
filling his own lungs, drowning him - think ... something happy ...
But there was no happiness in him ... the Dementor's icy fingers
were closing on his throat - the high-pitched laughter was growing
louder and louder, and a voice spoke inside his head: 'Bow to death,
Harry ...it might even be painless ...I would not know ...I have never
died ...'
He was never going to see Ron and Hermione again -
And their faces burst clearly into his mind as he fought for
breath.
'EXPECTO PATRONUM!'
An enormous silver stag erupted from the tip of Harry's wand;
its antlers caught the Dementor in the place where the heart should
have been; it was thrown backwards, weightless as darkness, and
as the stag charged, the Dementor swooped away, bat-like and
defeated.
THIS WAY!' Harry shouted at the stag. Wheeling around, he
sprinted down the alleyway, holding the lit wand aloft. 'DUDLEY?
DUDLEY!'
He had run barely a dozen steps when he reached them: Dudley
was curled up on the ground, his arms clamped over his face. A
second Dementor was crouching low over him, gripping his wrists
in its slimy hands, prising them slowly, almost lovingly apart, lowering
its hooded head towards Dudley's face as though about to kiss him.
'GET IT!' Harry bellowed, and with a rushing, roaring sound,
the silver stag he had conjured came galloping past him. The
Dementor's eyeless face was barely an inch from Dudley's when the
silver antlers caught it; the thing was thrown up into the air and,
like its fellow, it soared away and was absorbed into the darkness;
the stag cantered to the end of the alleyway and dissolved into
silver mist.
Moon, stars and streetlamps burst back into life. A warm breeze
swept the alleyway. Trees rustled in neighbouring gardens and the
mundane rumble of cars in Magnolia Crescent filled the air again.

PAGE 23 -----------------------------------------------------------------
Harry stood quite still, all his senses vibrating, taking in the abrupt
return to normality. After a moment, he became aware that his
T-shirt was sticking to him; he was drenched in sweat.
He could not believe what had just happened. Dementors here,
in Little Whinging.
Dudley lay curled up on the ground, whimpering and shaking.
Harry bent down to see whether he was in a fit state to stand up,
but then he heard loud, running footsteps behind him. Instinctively
raising his wand again, he span on his heel to face the newcomer.
Mrs Figg, their batty old neighbour, came panting into sight.
Her grizzled grey hair was escaping from its hairnet, a clanking
string shopping bag was swinging from her wrist and her feet were
halfway out of her tartan carpet slippers. Harry made to stow his
wand hurriedly out of sight, but -
'Don't put it away, idiot boy!' she shrieked. 'What if there are
more of them around? Oh, I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!'

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