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- Джоан Роулинг
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- Гарри Поттер и Кубок огня
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- Стр. 527/658
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"
Professor
!
"
Harry
said
in
a
kind
of
strangled
whisper
.
"
I
'm
sorry
-
I
did
n't
mean
to
-
I
was
just
looking
at
that
basin
in
your
cabinet
-
I
-
where
are
we
?
"
But
Dumbledore
did
n't
move
or
speak
.
He
ignored
Harry
completely
.
Like
every
other
wizard
on
the
benches
,
he
was
staring
into
the
far
corner
of
the
room
,
where
there
was
a
door
.
Harry
gazed
,
nonplussed
,
at
Dumbledore
,
then
around
at
the
silently
watchful
crowd
,
then
back
at
Dumbledore
.
And
then
it
dawned
on
him
...
.
Once
before
.
Harry
had
found
himself
somewhere
that
nobody
could
see
or
hear
him
.
That
time
,
he
had
fallen
through
a
page
in
an
enchanted
diary
,
right
into
somebody
else
's
memory
...
and
unless
he
was
very
much
mistaken
,
something
of
the
sort
had
happened
again
...
Harry
raised
his
right
hand
,
hesitated
,
and
then
waved
it
energetically
in
from
of
Dumbledore
's
face
.
Dumbledore
did
not
blink
,
look
around
at
Harry
,
or
indeed
move
at
all
.
And
that
,
in
Harry
's
opinion
,
settled
the
matter
.
Dumbledore
would
n't
ignore
him
like
that
.
He
was
inside
a
memory
,
and
this
was
not
the
present-day
Dumbledore
.
Yet
it
could
n't
be
that
long
ago
...
the
Dumbledore
sitting
next
to
him
now
was
silver-haired
,
just
like
the
present-day
Dumbledore
.
But
what
was
this
place
?
What
were
all
these
wizards
waiting
for
?
Harry
looked
around
more
carefully
.
The
room
,
as
he
had
suspected
when
observing
it
from
above
,
was
almost
certainly
underground
-
more
of
a
dungeon
than
a
room
,
he
thought
.
There
was
a
bleak
and
forbidding
air
about
the
place
;
there
were
no
pictures
on
the
walls
,
no
decorations
at
all
;
just
these
serried
rows
of
benches
,
rising
in
levels
all
around
the
room
,
all
positioned
so
that
they
had
a
clear
view
of
that
chair
with
the
chains
on
its
arms
.
Before
Harry
could
reach
any
conclusions
about
the
place
in
which
they
were
,
he
heard
footsteps
.
The
door
in
the
corner
of
the
dungeon
opened
and
three
people
entered
-
or
at
least
one
man
,
flanked
by
two
dementors
.
Harry
's
insides
went
cold
.
The
dementors
-
tall
,
hooded
creatures
whose
faces
were
concealed
-
were
gliding
slowly
toward
the
chair
in
the
center
of
the
room
,
each
grasping
one
of
the
man
's
arms
with
their
dead
and
rotten-looking
hands
.
The
man
between
them
looked
as
though
he
was
about
to
faint
,
and
Harry
could
n't
blame
him
...
he
knew
the
dementors
could
not
touch
him
inside
a
memory
,
but
he
remembered
their
power
only
too
well
.
The
watching
crowd
recoiled
slightly
as
the
dementors
placed
the
man
in
the
chained
chair
and
glided
back
out
of
the
room
.
The
door
swung
shut
behind
them
.
Harry
looked
down
at
the
man
now
sitting
in
the
chair
and
saw
that
it
was
Karkaroff
.
