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- Джоан Роулинг
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- Гарри Поттер и Кубок огня
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- Стр. 204/658
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The
Owlery
was
a
circular
stone
room
,
rather
cold
and
drafty
,
because
none
of
the
windows
had
glass
in
them
.
The
floor
was
entirely
covered
in
straw
,
owl
droppings
,
and
the
regurgitated
skeletons
of
mice
and
voles
.
Hundreds
upon
hundreds
of
owls
of
every
breed
imaginable
were
nestled
here
on
perches
that
rose
right
up
to
the
top
of
the
tower
,
nearly
all
of
them
asleep
,
though
here
and
there
a
round
amber
eye
glared
at
Harry
.
He
spotted
Hedwig
nestled
between
a
barn
owl
and
a
tawny
,
and
hurried
over
to
her
,
sliding
a
little
on
the
dropping-strewn
floor
.
It
took
him
a
while
to
persuade
her
to
wake
up
and
then
to
look
at
him
,
as
she
kept
shuffling
around
on
her
perch
,
showing
him
her
tail
.
She
was
evidently
still
furious
about
his
lack
of
gratitude
the
previous
night
.
In
the
end
,
it
was
Harry
suggesting
she
might
be
too
tired
,
and
that
perhaps
he
would
ask
Ron
to
borrow
Pigwidgeon
,
that
made
her
stick
out
her
leg
and
allow
him
to
tie
the
letter
to
it
.
"
Just
find
him
,
all
right
?
"
Harry
said
,
stroking
her
back
as
he
carried
her
on
his
arm
to
one
of
the
holes
in
the
wall
.
"
Before
the
dementors
do
.
"
She
nipped
his
finger
,
perhaps
rather
harder
than
she
would
ordinarily
have
done
,
but
hooted
softly
in
a
reassuring
sort
of
way
all
the
same
.
Then
she
spread
her
wings
and
took
off
into
the
sunrise
.
Harry
watched
her
fly
out
of
sight
with
the
familiar
feeling
of
unease
back
in
his
stomach
.
He
had
been
so
sure
that
Sirius
's
reply
would
alleviate
his
worries
rather
than
increasing
them
.
"
That
was
a
lie
,
Harry
,
"
said
Hermione
sharply
over
breakfast
,
when
he
told
her
and
Ron
what
he
had
done
.
"
You
did
n't
imagine
your
scar
hurting
and
you
know
it
.
"
"
So
what
?
"
said
Harry
.
"
He
's
not
going
back
to
Azkaban
because
of
me
.
"
"
Drop
it
,
"
said
Ron
sharply
to
Hermione
as
she
opened
her
mouth
to
argue
some
more
,
and
for
once
,
Hermione
heeded
him
,
and
fell
silent
.
Harry
did
his
best
not
to
worry
about
Sirius
over
the
next
couple
of
weeks
.
True
,
he
could
not
stop
himself
from
looking
anxiously
around
every
morning
when
the
post
owls
arrived
,
nor
,
late
at
night
before
he
went
to
sleep
,
prevent
himself
from
seeing
horrible
visions
of
Sirius
,
cornered
by
dementors
down
some
dark
London
street
,
but
betweentimes
he
tried
to
keep
his
mind
off
his
godfather
.
He
wished
he
still
had
Quidditch
to
distract
him
;
nothing
worked
so
well
on
a
troubled
mind
as
a
good
,
hard
training
session
.
On
the
other
hand
,
their
lessons
were
becoming
more
difficult
and
demanding
than
ever
before
,
particularly
Moody
's
Defense
Against
the
Dark
Arts
.
