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- Джоан Роулинг
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- Гарри Поттер и философский камень
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- Стр. 12/311
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"
Yeah
,
"
said
Hagrid
in
a
very
muffled
voice
,
"
I
'd
best
get
this
bike
away
.
G'night
,
Professor
McGonagall
--
Professor
Dumbledore
,
sir
.
"
Wiping
his
streaming
eyes
on
his
jacket
sleeve
,
Hagrid
swung
himself
onto
the
motorcycle
and
kicked
the
engine
into
life
;
with
a
roar
it
rose
into
the
air
and
off
into
the
night
.
"
I
shall
see
you
soon
,
I
expect
,
Professor
McGonagall
,
"
said
Dumbledore
,
nodding
to
her
.
Professor
McGonagall
blew
her
nose
in
reply
.
Dumbledore
turned
and
walked
back
down
the
street
.
On
the
corner
he
stopped
and
took
out
the
silver
Put-Outer
.
He
clicked
it
once
,
and
twelve
balls
of
light
sped
back
to
their
street
lamps
so
that
Privet
Drive
glowed
suddenly
orange
and
he
could
make
out
a
tabby
cat
slinking
around
the
corner
at
the
other
end
of
the
street
.
He
could
just
see
the
bundle
of
blankets
on
the
step
of
number
four
.
"
Good
luck
,
Harry
,
"
he
murmured
.
He
turned
on
his
heel
and
with
a
swish
of
his
cloak
,
he
was
gone
.
A
breeze
ruffled
the
neat
hedges
of
Privet
Drive
,
which
lay
silent
and
tidy
under
the
inky
sky
,
the
very
last
place
you
would
expect
astonishing
things
to
happen
.
Harry
Potter
rolled
over
inside
his
blankets
without
waking
up
.
One
small
hand
closed
on
the
letter
beside
him
and
he
slept
on
,
not
knowing
he
was
special
,
not
knowing
he
was
famous
,
not
knowing
he
would
be
woken
in
a
few
hours
'
time
by
Mrs.
Dursley
's
scream
as
she
opened
the
front
door
to
put
out
the
milk
bottles
,
nor
that
he
would
spend
the
next
few
weeks
being
prodded
and
pinched
by
his
cousin
Dudley
...
He
could
n't
know
that
at
this
very
moment
,
people
meeting
in
secret
all
over
the
country
were
holding
up
their
glasses
and
saying
in
hushed
voices
:
"
To
Harry
Potter
--
the
boy
who
lived
!
"
Nearly
ten
years
had
passed
since
the
Dursleys
had
woken
up
to
find
their
nephew
on
the
front
step
,
but
Privet
Drive
had
hardly
changed
at
all
.
The
sun
rose
on
the
same
tidy
front
gardens
and
lit
up
the
brass
number
four
on
the
Dursleys
'
front
door
;
it
crept
into
their
living
room
,
which
was
almost
exactly
the
same
as
it
had
been
on
the
night
when
Mr.
Dursley
had
seen
that
fateful
news
report
about
the
owls
.
Only
the
photographs
on
the
mantelpiece
really
showed
how
much
time
had
passed
.
Ten
years
ago
,
there
had
been
lots
of
pictures
of
what
looked
like
a
large
pink
beach
ball
wearing
different-colored
bonnets
--
but
Dudley
Dursley
was
no
longer
a
baby
,
and
now
the
photographs
showed
a
large
blond
boy
riding
his
first
bicycle
,
on
a
carousel
at
the
fair
,
playing
a
computer
game
with
his
father
,
being
hugged
and
kissed
by
his
mother
.
The
room
held
no
sign
at
all
that
another
boy
lived
in
the
house
,
too
.
Yet
Harry
Potter
was
still
there
,
asleep
at
the
moment
,
but
not
for
long
.
His
Aunt
Petunia
was
awake
and
it
was
her
shrill
voice
that
made
the
first
noise
of
the
day
.
"
Up
!
Get
up
!
Now
!
"
