Гарри Поттер и узник Азкабана
Professor Trelawney’s Prediction
Andhestrodebackintohiscabinassomeoneknockedatthefrontdoor.
Slowly,inakindofhorrifiedtrance,Harry,Ron,andHermionesetoffsilentlyaroundHagrid’shouse.Astheyreachedtheotherside,thefrontdoorclosedwithasharpsnap.
"Please,let’shurry,"Hermionewhispered."Ican’tstandit,Ican’tbearit...."
Theystarteduptheslopinglawntowardthecastle.Thesunwassinkingfastnow;theskyhadturnedtoaclear,purple-tingedgray,buttothewesttherewasaruby-redglow.
Ronstoppeddead.
"Oh,please,Ron,"Hermionebegan.
"It’sScabbers—hewon’t—stayput—"
Ronwasbentover,tryingtokeepScabbersinhispocket,buttheratwasgoingberserk;squeakingmadly,twistingandflailing,tryingtosinkhisteethintoRon’shand.
"Scabbers,it’sme,youidiot,it’sRon,"Ronhissed.
Theyheardadooropenbehindthemandmen’svoices.
"Oh,Ron,pleaselet’smove,they’regoingtodoit!"Hermionebreathed.
"Okay—Scabbers,stayput—"
Theywalkedforward;Harry,likeHermione,wastryingnottolistentotherumbleofvoicesbehindthem.Ronstoppedagain.
"Ican’tholdhim—Scabbers,shutup,everyone’llhearus—"
Theratwassquealingwildly,butnotloudlyenoughtocoverupthesoundsdriftingfromHagrid’sgarden.Therewasajumbleofindistinctmalevoices,asilence,andthen,withoutwarning,theunmistakableswishandthudofanaxe.
Hermioneswayedonthespot.
"Theydidit!"shewhisperedtoHarry."I’d—don’tbelieveit—theydidit!"
