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- Джоан Роулинг
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- Гарри Поттер и Орден Феникса
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- Стр. 8/965
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Harry
vaulted
over
the
locked
park
gate
and
set
off
across
the
parched
grass
.
The
park
was
as
empty
as
the
surrounding
streets
.
When
he
reached
the
swings
he
sank
on
to
the
only
one
that
Dudley
and
his
friends
had
not
yet
managed
to
break
,
coiled
one
arm
around
the
chain
and
stared
moodily
at
the
ground
.
He
would
not
be
able
to
hide
in
the
Dursleys
'
flowerbed
again
.
Tomorrow
,
he
would
have
to
think
of
some
fresh
way
of
listening
to
the
news
.
In
the
meantime
,
he
had
nothing
to
look
forward
to
but
another
restless
,
disturbed
night
,
because
even
when
he
escaped
the
nightmares
about
Cedric
he
had
unsettling
dreams
about
long
dark
corridors
,
all
finishing
in
dead
ends
and
locked
doors
,
which
he
supposed
had
something
to
do
with
the
trapped
feeling
he
had
when
he
was
awake
.
Often
the
old
scar
on
his
forehead
prickled
uncomfortably
,
but
he
did
not
fool
himself
that
Ron
or
Hermione
or
Sirius
would
find
that
very
interesting
any
more
.
In
the
past
,
his
scar
hurting
had
warned
that
Voldemort
was
getting
stronger
again
,
but
now
that
Voldemort
was
back
they
would
probably
remind
him
that
its
regular
irritation
was
only
to
be
expected
...
nothing
to
worry
about
...
old
news
...
The
injustice
of
it
all
welled
up
inside
him
so
that
he
wanted
to
yell
with
fury
.
If
it
had
n't
been
for
him
,
nobody
would
even
have
known
Voldemort
was
back
!
And
.
his
reward
was
to
be
stuck
in
Little
Whinging
for
four
solid
weeks
,
completely
cut
off
from
the
magical
world
,
reduced
to
squatting
among
dying
begonias
so
hat
he
could
hear
about
water-skiing
budgerigars
!
How
could
Dumbledore
have
forgotten
him
so
easily
?
Why
had
Ron
and
Hermione
got
together
without
inviting
him
along
,
too
?
How
much
longer
was
he
supposed
to
endure
Sirius
telling
him
to
sit
tight
and
be
a
good
boy
;
or
resist
the
temptation
to
write
to
the
stupid
Daily
Prophet
and
point
out
that
Voldemort
had
returned
?
These
curious
thoughts
whirled
around
in
Harry
's
head
,
and
his
insides
writhed
with
anger
as
a
sultry
,
velvety
night
fell
around
him
,
the
air
full
of
the
smell
of
warm
,
dry
grass
,
and
the
only
sound
that
of
the
low
grumble
of
traffic
on
the
road
beyond
the
park
railings
.
He
did
not
know
how
long
he
had
sat
on
the
swing
before
the
sound
of
voices
interrupted
his
musings
and
he
looked
up
.
The
streetlamps
from
the
surrounding
roads
were
casting
a
misty
glow
strong
enough
to
silhouette
a
group
of
people
making
their
way
across
the
park
.
One
of
them
was
singing
a
loud
,
crude
song
.
The
others
were
laughing
.
A
soft
ticking
noise
came
from
several
expensive
racing
bikes
that
they
were
wheeling
along
.
Harry
knew
who
those
people
were
.
The
figure
in
front
was
unmistakeably
his
cousin
,
Dudley
Dursley
wending
his
way
home
,
accompanied
by
his
faithful
gang
.
Dudley
was
as
vast
as
ever
,
but
a
year
's
hard
dieting
and
the
discovery
of
a
new
talent
had
wrought
quite
a
change
in
his
physique
.
As
Uncle
Vernon
delightedly
told
anyone
who
would
listen
,
Dudley
had
recently
become
the
Junior
Heavyweight
Inter-school
Boxing
Champion
of
the
Southeast
.
'
The
noble
sport
'
,
as
Uncle
Vernon
called
it
,
had
made
Dudley
even
more
formidable
than
he
had
seemed
to
Harry
in
their
primary
school
days
when
he
had
served
as
Dudley
's
first
punchball
.
Harry
was
not
remotely
afraid
of
his
cousin
any
more
but
he
still
did
n't
think
that
Dudley
learning
to
punch
harder
and
more
accurately
was
cause
for
celebration
.
Neighbourhood
children
all
around
were
terrified
of
him
--
even
more
terrified
than
they
were
of
'
that
Potter
boy
'
,
who
,
they
had
been
warned
,
was
a
hardened
hooligan
and
attended
St.
Brutus
's
Secure
Centre
for
Incurably
Criminal
Boys
.
Harry
watched
the
dark
figures
crossing
the
grass
and
wondered
who
they
had
been
beating
up
tonight
.
Look
round
,
Harry
found
himself
thinking
as
he
watched
them
.
Come
on
...
look
round
...
I
'm
sitting
here
all
alone
...
Come
and
have
a
go
...
If
Dudley
's
friends
saw
him
sitting
here
,
they
would
be
sure
to
make
a
beeline
for
him
,
and
what
would
Dudley
do
then
?
He
would
n't
want
to
lose
face
in
front
of
the
gang
,
but
he
'd
be
terrified
of
provoking
Harry
...
.
It
would
be
really
fun
to
watch
Dudley
's
dilemma
,
to
taunt
him
,
watch
him
,
with
him
powerless
to
respond
...
and
if
any
of
the
others
tried
hitting
Harry
,
he
was
ready
--
he
had
his
wand
.
Let
them
try
...
he
'd
love
to
vent
some
of
his
frustration
on
the
boys
who
had
once
made
his
life
hell
--
But
they
did
n't
turn
around
,
they
did
n't
see
him
,
they
were
almost
at
the
railings
.
Harry
mastered
the
impulse
to
call
after
them
...
.
Seeking
a
fight
was
not
a
smart
move
...
.
He
must
not
use
magic
...
.
He
would
be
risking
expulsion
again
.
The
voices
of
Dudley
's
gang
died
away
;
they
were
out
of
sight
,
heading
along
Magnolia
Road
.
There
you
go
,
Sirius
,
Harry
thought
dully
.
Nothing
rash
.
Kept
my
nose
clean
.
Exactly
the
opposite
of
what
you
'd
have
done
...
