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- Джоан Роулинг
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- Гарри Поттер и Принц-полукровка
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- Стр. 607/616
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They
filed
out
from
behind
their
benches
in
near
silence
.
Harry
glimpsed
Slughorn
at
the
head
of
the
Slytherin
column
,
wearing
magnificent
long
emerald-green
robes
embroidered
with
silver
.
He
had
never
seen
Professor
Sprout
,
Head
of
the
Hufflepuffs
,
looking
so
clean
;
there
was
not
a
single
patch
on
her
hat
,
and
when
they
reached
the
Entrance
Hall
,
they
found
Madam
Pince
standing
beside
Filch
,
she
in
a
thick
black
veil
that
fell
to
her
knees
,
he
in
an
ancient
black
suit
and
tie
reeking
of
mothballs
.
They
were
heading
,
as
Harry
saw
when
he
stepped
out
on
to
the
stone
steps
from
the
front
doors
,
towards
the
lake
.
The
warmth
of
the
sun
caressed
his
face
as
they
followed
Professor
McGonagall
in
silence
to
the
place
where
hundreds
of
chairs
had
been
set
out
in
rows
.
An
aisle
ran
down
the
centre
of
them
:
there
was
a
marble
table
standing
at
the
front
,
all
chairs
facing
it
.
It
was
the
most
beautiful
summer
's
day
.
An
extraordinary
assortment
of
people
had
already
settled
into
half
of
the
chairs
:
shabby
and
smart
,
old
and
young
.
Most
Harry
did
not
recognise
,
but
there
were
a
few
that
he
did
,
including
members
of
the
Order
of
the
Phoenix
:
Kingsley
Shacklebolt
,
Mad-Eye
Moody
,
Tonks
,
her
hair
miraculously
returned
to
vividest
pink
,
Remus
Lupin
,
with
whom
she
seemed
to
be
holding
hands
,
Mr
and
Mrs
Weasley
,
Bill
supported
by
Fleur
and
followed
by
Fred
and
George
,
who
were
wearing
jackets
of
black
dragonskin
.
Then
there
was
Madame
Maxime
,
who
took
up
two-and-a-half
chairs
on
her
own
,
Tom
,
the
landlord
of
the
Leaky
Cauldron
,
Arabella
Figg
,
Harry
's
Squib
neighbour
,
the
hairy
bass
player
from
the
wizarding
group
the
Weird
bisters
,
Ernie
Prang
,
driver
of
the
Knight
Bus
,
Madam
Malkin
,
of
the
robe
shop
in
Diagon
Alley
,
and
some
people
whom
Harry
merely
knew
by
sight
,
such
as
the
barman
of
the
Hog
's
Head
and
the
witch
who
pushed
the
trolley
on
the
Hogwarts
Express
.
The
castle
ghosts
were
there
too
,
barely
visible
in
the
bright
sunlight
,
discernible
only
when
they
moved
,
shimmering
insubstantially
in
the
gleaming
air
.
Harry
,
Ron
,
Hermione
and
Ginny
filed
into
seats
at
the
end
of
a
row
beside
the
lake
.
People
were
whispering
to
each
other
;
it
sounded
like
a
breeze
in
the
grass
,
but
the
birdsong
was
louder
by
far
.
The
crowd
continued
to
swell
;
with
a
great
rush
of
affection
for
both
of
them
,
Harry
saw
Neville
being
helped
into
a
seat
by
Luna
.
They
alone
of
all
the
DA
had
responded
to
Hermione
's
summons
the
night
that
Dumbledore
had
died
,
and
Harry
knew
why
:
they
were
the
ones
who
had
missed
the
DA
most
...
probably
the
ones
who
had
checked
their
coins
regularly
in
the
hope
that
there
would
be
another
meeting
...
Cornelius
Fudge
walked
past
them
towards
the
front
rows
,
his
expression
miserable
,
twirling
his
green
bowler
hat
as
usual
;
Harry
next
recognised
Rita
Skeeter
,
who
,
he
was
infuriated
to
see
,
had
a
notebook
clutched
in
her
red-taloned
hand
;
and
then
,
with
a
worse
jolt
of
fury
,
Dolores
Umbridge
,
an
unconvincing
expression
of
grief
upon
her
toadlike
face
,
a
black
velvet
bow
set
atop
her
iron-coloured
curls
.
At
the
sight
of
the
centaur
Firenze
,
who
was
standing
like
a
sentinel
near
the
water
's
edge
,
she
gave
a
start
and
scurried
hastily
into
a
seat
a
good
distance
away
.
The
staff
were
seated
at
last
.
Harry
could
see
Scrimgeour
looking
grave
and
dignified
in
the
front
row
with
Professor
McGonagall
.
He
wondered
whether
Scrimgeour
or
any
of
these
important
people
were
really
sorry
that
Dumbledore
was
dead
.
But
then
he
heard
music
,
strange
otherworldly
music
and
he
forgot
his
dislike
of
the
Ministry
in
looking
around
for
the
source
of
it
.
He
was
not
the
only
one
:
many
heads
were
turning
,
searching
,
a
little
alarmed
.
"
In
there
,
"
whispered
Ginny
in
Harry
's
ear
.
And
he
saw
them
in
the
clear
green
sunlit
water
,
inches
below
the
surface
,
reminding
him
horribly
of
the
Inferi
;
a
chorus
of
merpeople
singing
in
a
strange
language
he
did
not
understand
,
their
pallid
faces
rippling
,
their
purplish
hair
flowing
all
around
them
.
The
music
made
the
hair
on
Harry
's
neck
stand
up
and
yet
it
was
not
unpleasant
.
It
spoke
very
clearly
of
loss
and
of
despair
.
As
he
looked
down
into
the
wild
faces
of
the
singers
he
had
the
feeling
that
they
,
at
least
,
were
sorry
for
Dumbledore
's
passing
.
