Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place

           ’What’stheOrderofthe?’Harrybegan.

           ’Nothere,boy!’snarledMoody.’Waittillwe’reinside!’

           HepulledthepieceofparchmentoutofHarry’shandandsetfiretoitwithhiswand-tip.Asthemessagecurledintoflamesandfloatedtotheground,Harrylookedaroundatthehousesagain.Theywerestandingoutsidenumbereleven;helookedtotheleftandsawnumberten;totheright,however,wasnumberthirteen.

           ’Butwhere’s?’

           ’Thinkaboutwhatyou’vejustmemorised,’saidLupinquietly.

           Harrythought,andnosoonerhadhereachedthepartaboutnumbertwelve,GrimmauldPlace,thanabattereddooremergedoutofnowherebetweennumberselevenandthirteen,followedswiftlybydirtywallsandgrimywindows.Itwasasthoughanextrahousehadinflated,pushingthoseoneithersideoutofitsway.Harrygapedatit.Thestereoinnumbereleventhuddedon.ApparentlytheMugglesinsidehadn’tfeltanything.

           ’Comeon,hurry,’growledMoody,proddingHarryintheback.

           Harrywalkedupthewornstonesteps,staringatthenewlymaterialiseddoor.Itsblackpaintwasshabbyandscratched.Thesilverdoorknockerwasintheformofatwistedserpent.Therewasnokeyholeorletterbox.

           Lupin,pulledouthiswandandtappedthedooronce.Harryheardmanyloud,metallicclicksandwhatsoundedliketheclatterofachain.Thedoorcreakedopen.

           ’Getinquick,Harry,’Lupinwhispered,’butdon’tgofarinsideanddon’ttouchanything.

           Harrysteppedoverthethresholdintothealmosttotaldarknessofthehall.

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