As if water had been poured into a pan of hot oil, the once-silent neighborhood suddenly erupted into commotion.
"Move." Dumbledore's aged voice rang out in the yard, and all the Harrys and the people protecting them sprang into action, openly pulling out their Flying Broomsticks right outside the door. From the front of the yard came the sound of a car engine starting.
Having received the smoke signal, at least thirty wizard-and-Harry pairs rode all kinds of conveyances out from Mrs. Figg's house in the distance and from the shadows of several other homes—some racing along the ground like Muggles, others soaring into the sky, scattering like startled birds in a forest.
In the yard Sirius Black had bought, Arthur led Fred into the house to the huge black Thestral, and Fred nimbly climbed onto its back.
Hagrid took out a pair of goggles and pointed at the light motorcycle in the yard. "This is the one." He smiled down at Harry. "Last time you rode it, I could hold you up with one hand."
Harry climbed into the sidecar and could not help feeling a little embarrassed; this way, he was several heads shorter than everyone else. Hagrid straddled the motorcycle, which creaked and groaned as it sank several inches into the ground. "It's got a few gadgets on the handlebars now. This bit was my idea." He tapped a thick finger on a purple button beside the Odometer.
"Be extremely careful, Hagrid," Mr. Weasley called from inside the house. "I'm still not sure it was wise to add that thing for you. Only use it if you absolutely have to."
"Let's go. We're already a bit late." Hagrid kicked the motorcycle to life. It roared like a Dragon, and the sidecar shuddered along with it.
"Hold tight,