Harry Potter 05 - Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

wand had struck.
    ‘Nice one, Mad-Eye,’ said Tonks appreciatively, staring at Harry’s midriff.
    Harry looked down at his body, or rather, what had been his body, for it didn’t look anything like his any more. It was not invisible; it had simply taken on the exact colour and texture of the kitchen unit behind him. He seemed to have become a human chameleon.
    ‘Come on,’ said Moody, unlocking the back door with his wand.
    They all stepped outside on to Uncle Vernon’s beautifully kept lawn.
    ‘Clear night,’ grunted Moody, his magical eye scanning the heavens. ‘Could’ve done with a bit more cloud cover. Right, you,’ he barked at Harry, ‘we’re going to be flying in close formation. Tonks’ll be right in front of you, keep close on her tail. Lupin’ll be covering you from below. I’m going to be behind you. The rest’ll be circling us. We don’t break ranks for anything, got me? If one of us is killed –’
    ‘Is that likely?’ Harry asked apprehensively, but Moody ignored him.
    ‘– the others keep flying, don’t stop, don’t break ranks. If they take out all of us and you survive, Harry, the rear guard are standing by to take over; keep flying east and they’ll join you.’
    ‘Stop being so cheerful, Mad-Eye, he’ll think we’re not taking this seriously,’ said Tonks, as she strapped Harry’s trunk and Hedwig’s cage into a harness hanging from her broom.
    ‘I’m just telling the boy the plan,’ growled Moody. ‘Our job’s to deliver him safely to Headquarters and if we die in the attempt –’
    ‘No one’s going to die,’ said Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep, calming voice.
    ‘Mount your brooms, that’s the first signal!’ said Lupin sharply, pointing into the sky.
    Far, far above them, a shower of bright red sparks had flared among the stars. Harry recognised them at once as wand sparks. He swung his right leg over his Firebolt, gripped its handle tightly and felt it vibrating very slightly, as though it was as keen as he was to be up in the air once more.
    ‘Second signal, let’s go!’ said Lupin loudly as more sparks, green this time, exploded high above them.
    Harry kicked off hard from the ground. The cool night air rushed through his hair as the neat square gardens of Privet Drive fell away, shrinking rapidly into a patchwork of dark greens and blacks, and every thought of the Ministry hearing was swept from his mind as though the rush of air had blown it out of his head. He felt as though his heart was going to explode with pleasure; he was flying again, flying away from Privet Drive as he’d been fantasising about all summer, he was going home … for a few glorious moments, all his problems seemed to recede to nothing, insignificant in the vast, starry sky.
    ‘Hard left, hard left, there’s a Muggle looking up!’ shouted Moody from behind him. Tonks swerved and Harry followed her, watching his trunk swinging wildly beneath her broom. ‘We need more height … give it another quarter of a mile!’
    Harry’s eyes watered in the chill as they soared upwards; he could see nothing below now but tiny pinpricks of light that were car headlights and streetlamps. Two of those tiny lights might belong to Uncle Vernon’s car … the Dursleys would be heading back to their empty house right now, full of rage about the non-existent Lawn Competition … and Harry laughed aloud at the thought, though his voice was drowned by the flapping robes of the others, the creaking of the harness holding his trunk and the cage, and the whoosh of the wind in their ears as they sped through the air. He had not felt this alive in a month, or this happy.
    ‘Bearing south!’ shouted Mad-Eye. ‘Town ahead!’
    They soared right to avoid passing directly over the glittering spider’s web of lights below.
    ‘Bear southeast and keep climbing, there’s some low cloud ahead we can lose ourselves in!’ called Moody.
    ‘We’re not going through clouds!’ shouted Tonks angrily, ‘we’ll get soaked, Mad-Eye!’
    Harry was relieved to hear her say this; his hands were growing numb on the Firebolt’s handle. He wished he had thought to put on a coat; he was starting to shiver.
    They altered their course every now and then according to Mad-Eye’s instructions. Harry’s eyes were screwed up against the rush of icy wind that was starting to make his ears ache; he could remember being this cold on a broom only once before, during the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff in his