CHAPTER THREE
could just see Malfoy strutting around a large manor house. Send-
ing the family servant to stop Harry from going back to Hogwarts
also sounded exactly like the sort of thing Malfoy would do. Had
Harry been stupid to take Dobby seriously?
“I’m glad we came to get you, anyway,” said Ron. “I was getting
really worried when you didn’t answer any of my letters. I thought
it was Errol’s fault at first —”
“Who’s Errol?”
“Our owl. He’s ancient. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d col-
lapsed on a delivery. So then I tried to borrow Hermes —”
“Who?”
“The owl Mum and Dad bought Percy when he was made pre-
fect,” said Fred from the front.
“But Percy wouldn’t lend him to me,” said Ron. “Said he needed
him.”
“Percy’s been acting very oddly this summer,” said George,
frowning. “And he has been sending a lot of letters and spending a
load of time shut up in his room. . . . I mean, there’s only so many
times you can polish a prefect badge. . . . You’re driving too far
west, Fred,” he added, pointing at a compass on the dashboard.
Fred twiddled the steering wheel.
“So, does your dad know you’ve got the car?” said Harry, guess-
ing the answer.
“Er, no,” said Ron, “he had to work tonight. Hopefully we’ll be
able to get it back in the garage without Mum noticing we flew it.”
“What does your dad do at the Ministry of Magic, anyway?”
“He works in the most boring department,” said Ron. “The
Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.”
30