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- Джоан Роулинг
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- Гарри Поттер и Орден Феникса
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- Стр. 314/965
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'
Well
,
I
reckon
you
should
--
'
Ron
began
,
but
he
was
interrupted
by
the
Fat
Lady
,
who
had
been
watching
them
sleepily
and
now
burst
out
,
'
Are
you
going
to
give
me
the
password
or
will
I
have
to
stay
awake
all
night
waiting
for
you
to
finish
your
conversation
?
'
Friday
dawned
sullen
and
sodden
as
the
rest
of
the
week
.
Though
Harry
automatically
glanced
towards
the
staff
table
when
he
entered
the
Great
Hall
,
it
was
without
any
real
hope
of
seeing
Hagrid
,
and
he
turned
his
mind
immediately
to
his
more
pressing
problems
,
such
as
the
mountainous
pile
of
homework
he
had
to
do
and
the
prospect
of
yet
another
detention
with
Umbridge
.
Two
things
sustained
Harry
that
day
.
One
was
the
thought
that
it
was
almost
the
weekend
;
the
other
was
that
,
dreadful
though
his
final
detention
with
Umbridge
was
sure
to
be
,
he
had
a
distant
view
of
the
Quidditch
pitch
from
her
window
and
might
,
with
luck
,
be
able
to
see
something
of
Ron
's
tryout
.
These
were
rather
feeble
rays
of
light
,
it
was
true
,
but
Harry
was
grateful
for
anything
that
might
lighten
his
present
darkness
;
he
had
never
had
a
worse
first
week
of
term
at
Hogwarts
.
At
five
o'clock
that
evening
he
knocked
on
Professor
Umbridge
's
office
door
for
what
he
sincerely
hoped
would
be
the
final
time
,
and
was
told
to
enter
.
The
blank
parchment
lay
ready
for
him
on
the
lace-covered
table
,
the
pointed
black
quill
beside
it
.
'
You
know
what
to
do
,
Mr.
Potter
,
'
said
Umbridge
,
smiling
sweetly
at
him
.
Harry
picked
up
the
quill
and
glanced
through
the
window
.
If
he
just
shifted
his
chair
an
inch
or
so
to
the
right
...
on
the
pretext
of
shifting
himself
closer
to
the
table
,
he
managed
it
.
He
now
had
a
distant
view
of
the
Gryffindor
Quidditch
team
soaring
up
and
down
the
pitch
,
while
half
a
dozen
black
figures
stood
at
the
foot
of
the
three
high
goalposts
,
apparently
awaiting
their
turn
to
Keep
.
It
was
impossible
to
tell
which
one
was
Ron
at
this
distance
.
I
must
not
tell
lies
,
Harry
wrote
.
The
cut
in
the
back
of
his
right
hand
opened
and
began
to
bleed
afresh
.
I
must
not
tell
lies
.
The
cut
dug
deeper
,
stinging
and
smarting
.
I
must
not
tell
lies
.
Blood
trickled
down
his
wrist
.
