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- Джоан Роулинг
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- Гарри Поттер и узник Азкабана
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- Стр. 196/438
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Harry
was
more
than
willing
;
the
wind
was
fierce
and
his
hands
were
freezing
,
so
they
crossed
the
road
,
and
in
a
few
minutes
were
entering
the
tiny
inn
.
It
was
extremely
crowded
,
noisy
,
warm
,
and
smoky
.
A
curvy
sort
of
woman
with
a
pretty
face
was
serving
a
bunch
of
rowdy
warlocks
up
at
the
bar
.
"
That
's
Madam
Rosmerta
,
"
said
Ron
.
"
I
'll
get
the
drinks
,
shall
I
?
"
he
added
,
going
slightly
red
.
Harry
and
Hermione
made
their
way
to
the
back
of
the
room
,
where
there
was
a
small
,
vacant
table
between
the
window
and
a
handsome
Christmas
tree
,
which
stood
next
to
the
fireplace
.
Ron
came
back
five
minutes
later
,
carrying
three
foaming
tankards
of
hot
butterbeer
.
"
Merry
Christmas
!
"
he
said
happily
,
raising
his
tankard
.
Harry
drank
deeply
.
It
was
the
most
delicious
thing
he
'd
ever
tasted
and
seemed
to
heat
every
bit
of
him
from
the
inside
.
A
sudden
breeze
ruffled
his
hair
.
The
door
of
the
Three
Broomsticks
had
opened
again
.
Harry
looked
over
the
rim
of
his
tankard
and
choked
.
Professors
McGonagall
and
Flitwick
had
just
entered
the
pub
with
a
flurry
of
snowflakes
,
shortly
followed
by
Hagrid
,
who
was
deep
in
conversation
with
a
portly
man
in
a
lime-green
bowler
hat
and
a
pinstriped
cloak
--
Cornelius
Fudge
,
Minister
of
Magic
.
In
an
instant
,
Ron
and
Hermione
had
both
placed
hands
on
the
top
of
Harry
's
head
and
forced
him
off
his
stool
and
under
the
table
.
Dripping
with
butterbeer
and
crouching
out
of
sight
,
Harry
clutched
his
empty
tankard
and
watched
the
teachers
'
and
Fudge
's
feet
move
toward
the
bar
,
pause
,
then
turn
and
walk
right
toward
him
.
Somewhere
above
him
,
Hermione
whispered
,
"
Mobiliarbus
!
"
