SECOND CHAPTER
A Troubled Stomach in Colony Park
As the week passed, Harry and Ron wrote constantly to both Hermione and her parents. Finally, it was arranged that they should meet with the Grangers in London, at King's Cross, where they would all wait for Hermione's train to arrive from St. Peabody's Academy. Meanwhile, there were still 5 days to spend at the Dursley's, and for the first time in two weeks, Harry was a bit ashamed to have asked Ron to stay with him in such a boring place. After the Pigwidgeon episode, the Dursleys were so angry with them that they had to ask Sirius for another of his threatening letters, just to be allowed to go out.
After this, Harry was eager to show Ron the muggle world. It was now his turn to be a good host, and to introduce him to the delights that muggle boys their age had. He took him to a fast-food restaurant, and Ron for the first time in his life munched a hamburger, tasted his first French fries, and sipped his first Coke. This last one became an addiction for Ron, because he kept spending his money on Coke cans every 2 hours or so. Harry, as little as he was allowed to go out in his life, knew very well the neighbourhood and around. Fortunately, for them, there was a nearby cinema, and Ron was delighted to watch for once in his life a movie. That day, Ron had looked forward to it, and bugged Harry for it.
"Can we go now?", he asked eagerly when they were having breakfast.
"Ron, it's 9 in the morning," said Harry, trying to sound patient, "No cinemas open at this hour, unless you count matinees."
"Manatees? What do manatees have got to do? Is it a noodie about manatees that we're going to watch?" he asked, filled to the brim with enthusiasm,
"Noooo! It's matinees, and they are the first showing times in the morning, but no one goes except little children," said Harry, and he was annoyed to find that he sounded just like Hermione. "And," he added hastily, "It's a movie, not a noodie."
"Oh," said Ron, quite flattened, and he sat silent munching his Corn Flakes for a while. He jumped in his seat.
"And can we go to the movies later? Are we going to watch a horror movie? Or an action one? Or a comic one? How does a noodie look like?"
Harry sighed, shook his head, and preferred to say no more. After they finished their Corn Flakes, they chomped on buttered toast with blueberry jam on it.
"She may be grumpy, your aunt" said Ron with a muffled voice, his mouth stuffed with toast, "But mind you, her blueberry jam is good!"
He helped himself to some more, along with a large glass of natural orange juice (Harry was an expert with the orange squeezer, for his aunt's benefit), followed by an enormous glass of milk.
Harry was not left behind, having devoured more toast than Ron and drunken two pints of chocolate milk. Strange, Harry thought, lately I've been eating more than Dudley. He was then terrorized about someday using Dudley's breeches, and abstained from opening another pint of milk.
"Ahhhhhh!" sighed Ron with satisfaction, "THIS is life!" They were now lying on the living room's carpet, stretched out watching the telly. Ron liked especially the kids' action cartoons, and the reruns of the Thundercats were his favourites. Of course, it had taken Harry a full afternoon of 6 hours to explain Ron all there was about a television, because Ron at first had cried, out loud and wildly, when an image of an old movie's vampire appeared in the little odd black box that muggles usually stared at. Now he wouldn't budge his eyes from it.
"You said that yesterday when you drank Coke," grinned Harry, "If it weren't for me knowing your family, I'd say you were a perfect muggle."
"Like Dudley? Are you mental?" asked Ron in a shock, "To squash people like you, with my behind? No thanks!" He remained silent for a second, and with a wry laugh, he added, "Well, if I got to squash you, then it wouldn't be so bad."
"Ha-ha," said Harry stiffly, "It isn't that funny. That other time when he tripped me on the floor on my back and then sat on me, my ribs hurt every time I breathed."
"Well, that proves you have tough bones," laughed Ron, "especially in your head, where there is great thickness …. Right here…" (he tapped his own head) "…that clearly shows how bright you are, especially when you blow up your own aunt." He said this with his usual joking grin, which he liked to use when he teased.
"Very funny," said Harry, narrowing his eyes, "Now that is time to go to the cinema, I won't take you because I'm too thick to do it," and then he crossed his arms.
"I take it back", said Ron quickly.
"Good!" said Harry with a triumphant look, "Now let's get going!"
Harry and Ron walked about 2 blocks from the Dursleys to take a bus that would leave them near a cinema. Harry decided at last not to go to the one that was near the house, because he just knew that he'd meet a gossipy neighbour of Aunt Petunia's who would inquire on and on about Harry, and that strange-looking, redhaired young rogue that was with him. Count on Aunt Petunia to spoil it all, thought Harry lazily.
Ron was quite confused on how to make a bus stop. While they were waiting for it, he jumped, "Harry! We forgot our wands!" he cried, startled.
"What do we need them for?" Harry asked carelessly, looking over his shoulder for a sign of the bus.
"Well, what do you think we are going to use to make the bus stop!" cried Ron.
"Ron! This isn't the Knight Bus! All we have to do…" said Harry calmly (and quite annoyed) and leaning to the street as the bus came up, "… is use our hands." At that he waved with his hand and the bus stopped. Ron stared. To Harry's relief, he was quiet all the way looking out of the window.
That afternoon was one of the best ones in Ron's life. He was fascinated with the film, which was a suspense movie. He had never experienced something alike, in which you were seated comfortably in the dark to watch a story that came to life from rays of light that were shot from a little cabinet upwards.
He was absorbed into it, and every time there was a scary scene, he jumped up in his seat like if he had sat on a pin. He bellowed so often when he was startled, that people sitting near them stared. Harry would pretend to be interested into the ceiling.
When the movie ended, Ron begged to watch another; Harry didn't refuse, even if it meant to spend all his muggle money. The next movie they saw was a comical one, and if Ron had screamed at the other one, now he gave such huge belly laughs that were heard all over the theatre room. He would often laugh vociferously, cramming popcorn into his mouth as he did.
"You'll get sick!" whispered Harry to him, trying to be discrete.
"Awwwwww, Harry! NOBODY CARES!!!" cried Ron at the top of his voice, and laughed noisily again. Heads turned in their direction.
"You are eating too much," said Harry firmly, and snatched the popcorn bucket away from him. This reminded him of one of his only other two visits to the cinema in his life, and Dudley had vomited. It was awful.
"Oh, WHAT'S IT TO YOU," snapped Ron and grabbed the bucket from Harry's side. He stuffed his mouth with popcorn and began to chortle again
It was late when they left the movie theatre. Ron wanted to walk, and Harry consented, just to be relieved of the people who glared at them. They were now walking by an enormous park, so extensive that it covered many blocks; it was called Colony Park, and looked more like a forest for its thick trees and bushes.
Ron bought himself a last Coke, and sipped enjoyably as he walked, his blue eyes lost in the stars. Harry had his hands jammed in his pockets, but the golden wristlet Hermione had given him stuck out, and gleamed in the pale light of the public lamps. Harry looked at it, and wondered if Hermione was having a good time just like them. It sounded like it in her letter, he thought. Somehow, the thought of Hermione having fun without them felt strange, sort of like digesting a bag of bricks in their stomach.
"I wonder what Hermione is doing now," said Ron softly, but it startled Harry out of his thoughts.
"What?"
"If she is happy, you know." Ron said ever so gently.
"Bet she is," said Harry shrugging, "You know, what she said in her letter."
"I wonder if she's met another boy," said Ron sadly, dropping his Coke can to the ground. He kicked at it half-heartedly.
"Naw…" said Harry satisfactorily, "There are no boys at her school."
Ron snickered, and Harry grinned.
"Unless," Harry continued with fun, "She's hooked up with the milkman."
At this, both snorted at the same time, and began to double up with laughter. They were laughing so hard, that Ron dropped to the ground, his body bent into himself, and clutching at his stomach with his right arm. Harry kneeled to help Ron up, and grabbing his arm, he saw his face, streaked with tears and laughed all the more at it. It suddenly struck him that Ron's face was too pale, and that the twisted expression on it was not of fun, but of pain.
"Ron?" asked Harry worriedly, as he tried to pull him up, "Ron? What's wrong?"
"My—my stomach!" whispered Ron heavily, his face contorted, "It hurts! Owww!!!!!!!" And then he fell to the ground, rolling on his side and clutching at his stomach again.
"Wait! Wait!," Harry cried, "Hold it! I need to walk you to a doctor or… home?" He said this last word raising his eyebrows, meaning, of course…
"What? Walk until we get home?!", cried Ron shrilly, "I can't even stand up, Harry! I feel like I've eaten some stupid animal that's squeezing my stomach and my insides… OWWWW!" and with that he rolled again on the ground.
"NOW WHAT AM I GOING TO DO!" yelled Harry desperately, whirling around and looking at all directions. They were still a good distance from home, the bus stop was about 5 long blocks away and the last bus passed at 10:30 pm. Harry glanced at his watch. 11:35 pm.
"Damn!" cursed Harry, stamping his foot on the ground.,
"Stop wasting time and help me!!!!" bellowed Ron from the ground, "OWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he howled once more, and rolled to his other side.
"I'm trying!" snapped Harry. Think, think Harry! The voice in his head was saying, there must be someone you know that can help you. No, said another voice in his head, you have no friends in the Muggle worlds. He was so desperate that he even felt like using the A.I. card Dumbledore had sent him. He took it out of his jacket pocket, and nervously his hand raised itself and his fingers were about to let go, but he thought better of it. Maybe it was his only chance to get help when he has really in danger, and he wasn't going to give it up so easily.
He then slunk the card back into Dudley's jeans enormous denim pockets. He touched something hard, smooth and rectangular again. He retrieved a phone card that he'd bought months ago and left forgotten in his jeans. Suddenly, an idea came into his head.
"Hey! I know what to do now!" he cried excitedly, and he slapped his forehead, "How could I have been so stupid?!"
"YES HARRY I KNOW YOU CAN BE STUPID!" yelled Ron angrily, "Now would you put it beside for a while and help me? I can't stand my stomach! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!" and with another howl of pain he rolled once more on the cement, getting himself extremely dirty.
"Just you wait here," Harry said briskly, and trotted to the nearest phone booth, crossing the street, two blocks away. He heard as he ran Ron's cries pleading not to leave him. He shut himself in the booth, breathless and panting, and began to dial quickly. He called the only phone number he recalled, the phone number of the only person near enough to help them.
"Hello?" an old lady's voice answered, thin and acute.
"Mrs. Figg? This is Harry Potter."
"Harry? Oh goody goody, my son!" cried the old lady shrilly, with pleased surprise, "But how are you? When are you coming? Mr. Snowy Paws has missed you terribly."
"He has?" answered Harry hurriedly and uninterestingly, "Mrs. Figg, I know that in Hogwarts they told us not to get together too often, but I really need your help." Thus Harry told her all about Ron's pale face and gnarled stomach, and Mrs. Figg, Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher (for two years), promised to send a paid cab to where Harry was, only he had to make an effort to walk one block to a certain avenue.
Feeling much relieved, Harry hurried to where Ron was, and there both made an effort to walk together. Harry slung Ron's left arm over his own left shoulder, and with his right arm he held Ron by his lean waist, and in such a fashion they began to walk, Harry taking slow steps at a time, with Ron dragging his feet little by litte. They were almost reaching the second block, when Harry heard a strange sound.
It was a cry, shrill, loud, and piercing. It sounded like the cry of something that was very small, and defenceless, was being harmed with no sign of hope nor help. It was the cry of a baby.
Harry almost felt that he too would drop to the ground with sheer fright. He stopped dead in his tracks, and listened again. The cry came again, as clear as before, and louder, and to Harry's horror, nearer.
"Ron! Ron!" he whispered, "Did you hear that?" But when he turned to him, he was horrified to see his best friend's face totally unconscious. Ron's limp weight made Harry's legs stumble, but he struggled not to fall. He held on to Ron harshly, his poor legs hurting smartly with every second because of the effort of bearing his best friend's body.
The cry was again heard, and this time Harry felt it so loud and near that a horrible chill was in his spine. The public lights shut down suddenly, and Harry was left standing in the middle of a pitch-black darkness, helpless, where he could barely see his own hands. And just as quickly as that horrible cry had been heard, an empty and deafening silence came, and Harry, for half a minute heard nothing but his own soft panting. A coldness in his insides next came, such as that one he felt when there was a dementor near him, his knobbly knees shook, cold sweat trickled on his forehead, then, a loud wheezing breath came to Harry's ears. It was right behind him.
With his heart now beating hysterically, slowly, very slowly, Harry twisted his neck, as far as it could give, until it would ache him. There were many bushes at his back, but now in the night, their dark green colour turned to a nasty blueish tint, hardly visible in the midst of all the blackness.
Harry couldn't help staring at the bush, his face turning stiff with panic. It seemed to him that the more he kept looking, the more frightened he was, to the point of seeing things. He thought he began to see in the bushed two lights, red and orangy and blue at the same time, like the lights of a flickering fire. They began to appear dully, growing brighter and brighter as he kept his eyes on them. The two lights went out in a fraction of a second and came back again, and Harry realized what they were: eyes. His own blinked often, and with despair he saw the fire eyes growing brighter and brigher, bigger and bigger as they drew nearer. He could not see anything else but those two monstrous yellow and red eyes, and when Harry began to shuffle his ankle in a running position, the thing in the dark cried the shrill cry, that terrifying scream that sounded as that of a baby being hurt.
Harry didn't need to think it twice. He began to run.
A Troubled Stomach in Colony Park
As the week passed, Harry and Ron wrote constantly to both Hermione and her parents. Finally, it was arranged that they should meet with the Grangers in London, at King's Cross, where they would all wait for Hermione's train to arrive from St. Peabody's Academy. Meanwhile, there were still 5 days to spend at the Dursley's, and for the first time in two weeks, Harry was a bit ashamed to have asked Ron to stay with him in such a boring place. After the Pigwidgeon episode, the Dursleys were so angry with them that they had to ask Sirius for another of his threatening letters, just to be allowed to go out.
After this, Harry was eager to show Ron the muggle world. It was now his turn to be a good host, and to introduce him to the delights that muggle boys their age had. He took him to a fast-food restaurant, and Ron for the first time in his life munched a hamburger, tasted his first French fries, and sipped his first Coke. This last one became an addiction for Ron, because he kept spending his money on Coke cans every 2 hours or so. Harry, as little as he was allowed to go out in his life, knew very well the neighbourhood and around. Fortunately, for them, there was a nearby cinema, and Ron was delighted to watch for once in his life a movie. That day, Ron had looked forward to it, and bugged Harry for it.
"Can we go now?", he asked eagerly when they were having breakfast.
"Ron, it's 9 in the morning," said Harry, trying to sound patient, "No cinemas open at this hour, unless you count matinees."
"Manatees? What do manatees have got to do? Is it a noodie about manatees that we're going to watch?" he asked, filled to the brim with enthusiasm,
"Noooo! It's matinees, and they are the first showing times in the morning, but no one goes except little children," said Harry, and he was annoyed to find that he sounded just like Hermione. "And," he added hastily, "It's a movie, not a noodie."
"Oh," said Ron, quite flattened, and he sat silent munching his Corn Flakes for a while. He jumped in his seat.
"And can we go to the movies later? Are we going to watch a horror movie? Or an action one? Or a comic one? How does a noodie look like?"
Harry sighed, shook his head, and preferred to say no more. After they finished their Corn Flakes, they chomped on buttered toast with blueberry jam on it.
"She may be grumpy, your aunt" said Ron with a muffled voice, his mouth stuffed with toast, "But mind you, her blueberry jam is good!"
He helped himself to some more, along with a large glass of natural orange juice (Harry was an expert with the orange squeezer, for his aunt's benefit), followed by an enormous glass of milk.
Harry was not left behind, having devoured more toast than Ron and drunken two pints of chocolate milk. Strange, Harry thought, lately I've been eating more than Dudley. He was then terrorized about someday using Dudley's breeches, and abstained from opening another pint of milk.
"Ahhhhhh!" sighed Ron with satisfaction, "THIS is life!" They were now lying on the living room's carpet, stretched out watching the telly. Ron liked especially the kids' action cartoons, and the reruns of the Thundercats were his favourites. Of course, it had taken Harry a full afternoon of 6 hours to explain Ron all there was about a television, because Ron at first had cried, out loud and wildly, when an image of an old movie's vampire appeared in the little odd black box that muggles usually stared at. Now he wouldn't budge his eyes from it.
"You said that yesterday when you drank Coke," grinned Harry, "If it weren't for me knowing your family, I'd say you were a perfect muggle."
"Like Dudley? Are you mental?" asked Ron in a shock, "To squash people like you, with my behind? No thanks!" He remained silent for a second, and with a wry laugh, he added, "Well, if I got to squash you, then it wouldn't be so bad."
"Ha-ha," said Harry stiffly, "It isn't that funny. That other time when he tripped me on the floor on my back and then sat on me, my ribs hurt every time I breathed."
"Well, that proves you have tough bones," laughed Ron, "especially in your head, where there is great thickness …. Right here…" (he tapped his own head) "…that clearly shows how bright you are, especially when you blow up your own aunt." He said this with his usual joking grin, which he liked to use when he teased.
"Very funny," said Harry, narrowing his eyes, "Now that is time to go to the cinema, I won't take you because I'm too thick to do it," and then he crossed his arms.
"I take it back", said Ron quickly.
"Good!" said Harry with a triumphant look, "Now let's get going!"
Harry and Ron walked about 2 blocks from the Dursleys to take a bus that would leave them near a cinema. Harry decided at last not to go to the one that was near the house, because he just knew that he'd meet a gossipy neighbour of Aunt Petunia's who would inquire on and on about Harry, and that strange-looking, redhaired young rogue that was with him. Count on Aunt Petunia to spoil it all, thought Harry lazily.
Ron was quite confused on how to make a bus stop. While they were waiting for it, he jumped, "Harry! We forgot our wands!" he cried, startled.
"What do we need them for?" Harry asked carelessly, looking over his shoulder for a sign of the bus.
"Well, what do you think we are going to use to make the bus stop!" cried Ron.
"Ron! This isn't the Knight Bus! All we have to do…" said Harry calmly (and quite annoyed) and leaning to the street as the bus came up, "… is use our hands." At that he waved with his hand and the bus stopped. Ron stared. To Harry's relief, he was quiet all the way looking out of the window.
That afternoon was one of the best ones in Ron's life. He was fascinated with the film, which was a suspense movie. He had never experienced something alike, in which you were seated comfortably in the dark to watch a story that came to life from rays of light that were shot from a little cabinet upwards.
He was absorbed into it, and every time there was a scary scene, he jumped up in his seat like if he had sat on a pin. He bellowed so often when he was startled, that people sitting near them stared. Harry would pretend to be interested into the ceiling.
When the movie ended, Ron begged to watch another; Harry didn't refuse, even if it meant to spend all his muggle money. The next movie they saw was a comical one, and if Ron had screamed at the other one, now he gave such huge belly laughs that were heard all over the theatre room. He would often laugh vociferously, cramming popcorn into his mouth as he did.
"You'll get sick!" whispered Harry to him, trying to be discrete.
"Awwwwww, Harry! NOBODY CARES!!!" cried Ron at the top of his voice, and laughed noisily again. Heads turned in their direction.
"You are eating too much," said Harry firmly, and snatched the popcorn bucket away from him. This reminded him of one of his only other two visits to the cinema in his life, and Dudley had vomited. It was awful.
"Oh, WHAT'S IT TO YOU," snapped Ron and grabbed the bucket from Harry's side. He stuffed his mouth with popcorn and began to chortle again
It was late when they left the movie theatre. Ron wanted to walk, and Harry consented, just to be relieved of the people who glared at them. They were now walking by an enormous park, so extensive that it covered many blocks; it was called Colony Park, and looked more like a forest for its thick trees and bushes.
Ron bought himself a last Coke, and sipped enjoyably as he walked, his blue eyes lost in the stars. Harry had his hands jammed in his pockets, but the golden wristlet Hermione had given him stuck out, and gleamed in the pale light of the public lamps. Harry looked at it, and wondered if Hermione was having a good time just like them. It sounded like it in her letter, he thought. Somehow, the thought of Hermione having fun without them felt strange, sort of like digesting a bag of bricks in their stomach.
"I wonder what Hermione is doing now," said Ron softly, but it startled Harry out of his thoughts.
"What?"
"If she is happy, you know." Ron said ever so gently.
"Bet she is," said Harry shrugging, "You know, what she said in her letter."
"I wonder if she's met another boy," said Ron sadly, dropping his Coke can to the ground. He kicked at it half-heartedly.
"Naw…" said Harry satisfactorily, "There are no boys at her school."
Ron snickered, and Harry grinned.
"Unless," Harry continued with fun, "She's hooked up with the milkman."
At this, both snorted at the same time, and began to double up with laughter. They were laughing so hard, that Ron dropped to the ground, his body bent into himself, and clutching at his stomach with his right arm. Harry kneeled to help Ron up, and grabbing his arm, he saw his face, streaked with tears and laughed all the more at it. It suddenly struck him that Ron's face was too pale, and that the twisted expression on it was not of fun, but of pain.
"Ron?" asked Harry worriedly, as he tried to pull him up, "Ron? What's wrong?"
"My—my stomach!" whispered Ron heavily, his face contorted, "It hurts! Owww!!!!!!!" And then he fell to the ground, rolling on his side and clutching at his stomach again.
"Wait! Wait!," Harry cried, "Hold it! I need to walk you to a doctor or… home?" He said this last word raising his eyebrows, meaning, of course…
"What? Walk until we get home?!", cried Ron shrilly, "I can't even stand up, Harry! I feel like I've eaten some stupid animal that's squeezing my stomach and my insides… OWWWW!" and with that he rolled again on the ground.
"NOW WHAT AM I GOING TO DO!" yelled Harry desperately, whirling around and looking at all directions. They were still a good distance from home, the bus stop was about 5 long blocks away and the last bus passed at 10:30 pm. Harry glanced at his watch. 11:35 pm.
"Damn!" cursed Harry, stamping his foot on the ground.,
"Stop wasting time and help me!!!!" bellowed Ron from the ground, "OWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he howled once more, and rolled to his other side.
"I'm trying!" snapped Harry. Think, think Harry! The voice in his head was saying, there must be someone you know that can help you. No, said another voice in his head, you have no friends in the Muggle worlds. He was so desperate that he even felt like using the A.I. card Dumbledore had sent him. He took it out of his jacket pocket, and nervously his hand raised itself and his fingers were about to let go, but he thought better of it. Maybe it was his only chance to get help when he has really in danger, and he wasn't going to give it up so easily.
He then slunk the card back into Dudley's jeans enormous denim pockets. He touched something hard, smooth and rectangular again. He retrieved a phone card that he'd bought months ago and left forgotten in his jeans. Suddenly, an idea came into his head.
"Hey! I know what to do now!" he cried excitedly, and he slapped his forehead, "How could I have been so stupid?!"
"YES HARRY I KNOW YOU CAN BE STUPID!" yelled Ron angrily, "Now would you put it beside for a while and help me? I can't stand my stomach! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!" and with another howl of pain he rolled once more on the cement, getting himself extremely dirty.
"Just you wait here," Harry said briskly, and trotted to the nearest phone booth, crossing the street, two blocks away. He heard as he ran Ron's cries pleading not to leave him. He shut himself in the booth, breathless and panting, and began to dial quickly. He called the only phone number he recalled, the phone number of the only person near enough to help them.
"Hello?" an old lady's voice answered, thin and acute.
"Mrs. Figg? This is Harry Potter."
"Harry? Oh goody goody, my son!" cried the old lady shrilly, with pleased surprise, "But how are you? When are you coming? Mr. Snowy Paws has missed you terribly."
"He has?" answered Harry hurriedly and uninterestingly, "Mrs. Figg, I know that in Hogwarts they told us not to get together too often, but I really need your help." Thus Harry told her all about Ron's pale face and gnarled stomach, and Mrs. Figg, Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher (for two years), promised to send a paid cab to where Harry was, only he had to make an effort to walk one block to a certain avenue.
Feeling much relieved, Harry hurried to where Ron was, and there both made an effort to walk together. Harry slung Ron's left arm over his own left shoulder, and with his right arm he held Ron by his lean waist, and in such a fashion they began to walk, Harry taking slow steps at a time, with Ron dragging his feet little by litte. They were almost reaching the second block, when Harry heard a strange sound.
It was a cry, shrill, loud, and piercing. It sounded like the cry of something that was very small, and defenceless, was being harmed with no sign of hope nor help. It was the cry of a baby.
Harry almost felt that he too would drop to the ground with sheer fright. He stopped dead in his tracks, and listened again. The cry came again, as clear as before, and louder, and to Harry's horror, nearer.
"Ron! Ron!" he whispered, "Did you hear that?" But when he turned to him, he was horrified to see his best friend's face totally unconscious. Ron's limp weight made Harry's legs stumble, but he struggled not to fall. He held on to Ron harshly, his poor legs hurting smartly with every second because of the effort of bearing his best friend's body.
The cry was again heard, and this time Harry felt it so loud and near that a horrible chill was in his spine. The public lights shut down suddenly, and Harry was left standing in the middle of a pitch-black darkness, helpless, where he could barely see his own hands. And just as quickly as that horrible cry had been heard, an empty and deafening silence came, and Harry, for half a minute heard nothing but his own soft panting. A coldness in his insides next came, such as that one he felt when there was a dementor near him, his knobbly knees shook, cold sweat trickled on his forehead, then, a loud wheezing breath came to Harry's ears. It was right behind him.
With his heart now beating hysterically, slowly, very slowly, Harry twisted his neck, as far as it could give, until it would ache him. There were many bushes at his back, but now in the night, their dark green colour turned to a nasty blueish tint, hardly visible in the midst of all the blackness.
Harry couldn't help staring at the bush, his face turning stiff with panic. It seemed to him that the more he kept looking, the more frightened he was, to the point of seeing things. He thought he began to see in the bushed two lights, red and orangy and blue at the same time, like the lights of a flickering fire. They began to appear dully, growing brighter and brighter as he kept his eyes on them. The two lights went out in a fraction of a second and came back again, and Harry realized what they were: eyes. His own blinked often, and with despair he saw the fire eyes growing brighter and brigher, bigger and bigger as they drew nearer. He could not see anything else but those two monstrous yellow and red eyes, and when Harry began to shuffle his ankle in a running position, the thing in the dark cried the shrill cry, that terrifying scream that sounded as that of a baby being hurt.
Harry didn't need to think it twice. He began to run.