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- Джоан Роулинг
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- Гарри Поттер и Дары Смерти
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- Стр. 323/732
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"
Yes
,
"
said
Harry
,
looking
down
into
the
milky
eyes
fixed
upon
his
own
,
"
I
think
she
does
.
"
"
Well
,
okay
then
,
but
be
quick
,
Harry
.
"
"
Lead
the
way
,
"
Harry
told
Bathilda
.
She
seemed
to
understand
,
because
she
shuffled
around
him
toward
the
door
.
Harry
glanced
back
at
Hermione
with
a
reassuring
smile
,
but
he
was
not
sure
she
had
seen
it
;
she
stood
hugging
herself
in
the
midst
of
the
candlelit
squalor
,
looking
toward
the
bookcase
.
As
Harry
walked
out
of
the
room
,
unseen
by
both
Hermione
and
Bathilda
,
he
slipped
the
silver-framed
photograph
of
the
unknown
thief
inside
his
jacket
.
The
stairs
were
steep
and
narrow
:
Harry
was
half
tempted
to
place
his
hands
on
stout
Bathilda
's
backside
to
ensure
that
she
did
not
topple
over
backward
on
top
of
him
,
which
seemed
only
too
likely
.
Slowly
,
wheezing
a
little
,
she
climbed
to
the
upper
landing
,
turned
immediately
right
,
and
led
him
into
a
low-ceilinged
bedroom
.
It
was
pitch-black
and
smelled
horrible
:
Harry
had
just
made
out
a
chamber
pot
protruding
from
under
the
bed
before
Bathilda
closed
the
door
and
even
that
was
swallowed
by
the
darkness
.
"
Lumos
,
"
said
Harry
,
and
his
wand
ignited
.
He
gave
a
start
:
Bathilda
had
moved
close
to
him
in
those
few
seconds
of
darkness
,
and
he
had
not
heard
her
approach
.
"
You
are
Potter
?
"
she
whispered
.
"
Yes
,
I
am
.
"
