roared the barman

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the grubby, sawdust bar of the Hog's Head Inn. They ran behind the counter and through a second doorway, which led to a trickery wooden staircase, that they climbed as fast as they could. The stairs opened into a sitting room with a durable carpet and a small firep[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], above which hung a single large oil painting of a blonde girl who gazed out at the room with a kind of a vacant sweetness. Shouts reached from the streets below. Still wearing the Invisibility Cloak on, they hurried toward the grimy window and looked down. Their savior, whom Harry now recognized as the Hog's Head's barman, was the only person not wearing a hood. "So what?" he was bellowing into one of the hooded faces. "So what? You send dementors down my street, I'll send a Patronus back at'em! I'm not having'em near me, I've told you that. I'm not having it!" "That wasn't your Patronus," said a Death Eater. "That was a stag. It was Potter's!" "Stag!" roared the barman, and he pulled out a wand. "Stag! You idiot - \iExpecto Patronum!\i" Something huge and horned erupted from the wand. Head down, it charged toward the High Street, and out of sight. "That's not what I saw" said the Death Eater, though was less certainly "Curfew's been broken, you heard the noise," one of his companions told the barman. "Someone was out on the streets against regulations - " "If I want to put my cat out, I will, and be damned to your curfew!" "You set off the Caterwauling Charm?" "What if I did? Going to cart me off to Azkaban? Kill me for sticking my nose out my own front door? Do it, then, if you want to! But I hope for your sakes you haven't pressed your little Dark Marks, and summoned him. He's not going to like being called here, for me and my old cat,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], is he, now?" "Don't worry about us." said one of the Death Eaters, "worry about yourself, breaking curfew!" "And where will you lot traffic potions and poisons when my pub's closed down? What will happen to your little sidelines then?" "Are you threatening - ?" "I keep my mouth shut, it's why you come here, isn't it?" "I still say I saw a stag Patronus!" shouted the first Death Eater. "Stag?" roared the barman. "It's a \igoat,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],\i idiot!" "He's dead," said Harry, "Bellatrix Lestrange killed him." The barman face was impassive. After a few moments he said, "I'm sorry to hear it, I liked that elf." He turned away, lightning lamps with prods of his wand, not looking at any of them. "You're Aberforth," said Harry to the man's back. He neither confirmed or denied it, but bent to light the fire. "How did you get this?" Harry asked, walking across to Sirius's mirror, the twin of the one he had broken nearly two years before. "Bought it from Dung 'bout a year ago," said Aberforth. "Albus told me what it was. Been trying to keep an eye out for you." Ron gasped. "The silver doe," he said excitedly, "Was that you too?" "What are you talking about?" asked Aberforth. "Someone sent a doe Patronus to us!" "Brains like that, you could be a Death Eater, son. Haven't I just prove my Patronus is a goat?" "Oh,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]," said Ron, "Yeah... well, I'm hungry!" he added defensively as his stomach gave an enormous rumble. "I got food," said Aberforth, and he sloped out of the room, reappearing moments later with a large "All right, we made a mistake," said the second Death Eater. "Break curfew again and we won't be so lenient!" The Death Eaters strode back towards the High Street. Hermione moaned with relief, wove out from under the Cloak, and sat down on a wobble-legged chair. Harry drew the curtains then pulled the Cloak off himself and Ron. They could hear the barman down below, rebolting the door of the bar, then climbing the stairs. Harry's attention was caught by something on the mantelpiece: a small, rectangular mirror, propped on top of it, right beneath the portrait of the girl. The barman entered the room. "You bloody fools," he said gruffly, looking from one to the other of them. "What were you thinking, coming here?" "Thank you," said Harry. "You can't thank you enough. You saved our lives!" The barman grunted. Harry approached him looking up into the face: trying to see past the long, stringy, wire-gray hair beard. He wore spectacles. Behind the dirty lenses, the eyes were a piercing, brilliant blue. "It's your eye I've been seeing in the mirror." There was a silence in the room. Harry and the barman looked at each other. "You sent Dobby." The barman nodded and looked around for the elf. "Thought he'd be with you. Where've you left him? loaf of bread, some cheese, and a pewter jug of mead, which he set upon a small table in front of the fire. Ravenous, they ate and drank, and for a while there was sound of chewing. "Right then," said Aberforth when the had eaten their fill and Harry and Ron sat slumped dozily in their chairs. "We need to think of the best way to get you out of here. Can't be done by night, you heard what
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