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- Джоан Роулинг
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- Гарри Поттер и Орден Феникса
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- Стр. 656/965
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'
I
just
wanted
to
say
,
'
he
mumbled
,
squinting
at
Harry
's
left
knee
,
'
I
believe
you
.
And
I
've
sent
a
copy
of
that
magazine
to
me
mam
.
'
If
anything
more
was
needed
to
complete
Harry
's
happiness
,
it
was
the
reaction
he
got
from
Malfoy
,
Crabbe
and
Goyle
.
He
saw
them
with
their
heads
together
later
that
afternoon
in
the
library
;
they
were
with
a
weedy-looking
boy
Hermione
whispered
was
called
Theodore
Nott
.
They
looked
round
at
Harry
as
he
browsed
the
shelves
for
the
book
he
needed
on
Partial
Vanishment
.
Goyle
cracked
his
knuckles
threateningly
and
Malfoy
whispered
something
undoubtedly
malevolent
to
Crabbe
.
Harry
knew
perfectly
well
why
they
were
acting
like
this
:
he
had
named
all
of
their
fathers
as
Death
Eaters
.
'
And
the
best
bit
,
'
whispered
Hermione
gleefully
,
as
they
left
the
library
,
'
is
they
ca
n't
contradict
you
,
because
they
ca
n't
admit
they
've
read
the
article
!
'
To
cap
it
all
,
Luna
told
him
over
dinner
that
no
issue
of
The
Quibbler
had
ever
sold
out
faster
.
'D
ad
's
reprinting
!
'
she
told
Harry
,
her
eyes
popping
excitedly
.
'
He
ca
n't
believe
it
,
he
says
people
seem
even
more
interested
in
this
than
the
Crumple-Horned
Snorkacks
!
'
Harry
was
a
hero
in
the
Gryffindor
common
room
that
night
.
Daringly
,
Fred
and
George
had
put
an
Enlargement
Charm
on
the
front
cover
of
The
Quibbler
and
hung
it
on
the
wall
,
so
that
Harry
's
giant
head
gazed
down
upon
the
proceedings
,
occasionally
saying
things
like
'
THE
MINISTRY
ARE
MORONS
'
and
'
EAT
DUNG
,
UMBRIDGE
'
in
a
booming
voice
.
Hermione
did
not
find
this
very
amusing
;
she
said
it
interfered
with
her
concentration
,
and
she
ended
up
going
to
bed
early
out
of
irritation
.
Harry
had
to
admit
that
the
poster
was
not
quite
as
funny
after
an
hour
or
two
,
especially
when
the
talking
spell
had
started
to
wear
off
,
so
that
it
merely
shouted
disconnected
words
like
'D
UNG
'
and
'
UMBRIDGE
'
at
more
and
more
frequent
intervals
in
a
progressively
higher
voice
.
In
fact
,
it
started
to
make
his
head
ache
and
his
scar
began
prickling
uncomfortably
again
.
To
disappointed
moans
from
the
many
people
who
were
sitting
around
him
,
asking
him
to
relive
his
interview
for
the
umpteenth
time
,
he
announced
that
he
too
needed
an
early
night
.
The
dormitory
was
empty
when
he
reached
it
.
He
rested
his
forehead
for
a
moment
against
the
cool
glass
of
the
window
beside
his
bed
;
it
felt
soothing
against
his
scar
.
Then
he
undressed
and
got
into
bed
,
wishing
his
headache
would
go
away
.
He
also
felt
slightly
sick
.
He
rolled
over
on
to
his
side
,
closed
his
eyes
,
and
fell
asleep
almost
at
once
...
He
was
standing
in
a
dark
,
curtained
room
lit
by
a
single
branch
of
candles
.
His
hands
were
clenched
on
the
back
of
a
chair
in
front
of
him
.
They
were
long-fingered
and
white
as
though
they
had
not
seen
sunlight
for
years
and
looked
like
large
,
pale
spiders
agairst
the
dark
velvet
of
the
chair
.
