Гарри Поттер и Кубок огня

The Riddle House

           ThefrontdooroftheRiddleHouseborenosignofbeingforced,nordidanyofthewindows.Franklimpedaroundtothebackofthehouseuntilhereachedadooralmostcompletelyhiddenbyivy,tookouttheoldkey,putitintothelock,andopenedthedoornoiselessly.

           Helethimselfintothecavernouskitchen.Frankhadnotentereditformanyyears;nevertheless,althoughitwasverydark,herememberedwherethedoorintothehallwas,andhegropedhiswaytowardsit,hisnostrilsfullofthesmellofdecay,earsprickedforanysoundoffootstepsorvoicesfromoverhead.Hereachedthehall,whichwasalittlelighterowingtothelargemullionedwindowsoneithersideofthefrontdoor,andstartedtoclimbthestairs,blessingthedustthatlaythickuponthestone,becauseitmuffledthesoundofhisfeetandstick.

           Onthelanding,Frankturnedright,andsawatoncewheretheintruderswere:Attheeveryendofthepassageadoorstoodajar,andaflickeringlightshonethroughthegap,castingalongsliverofgoldacrosstheblackfloor.Frankedgedcloserandcloser,hewasabletoseeanarrowsliceoftheroombeyond.

           Thefire,henowsaw,hadbeenlitinthegrate.Thissurprisedhim.Thenhestoppedmovingandlistenedintently,foraman’svoicespokewithintheroom;itsoundedtimidandfearful.

           "Thereisalittlemoreinthebottle,MyLord,ifyouarestillhungry."

           "Later,"saidasecondvoice.Thistoobelongedtoaman-butitwasstrangelyhigh-pitched,andcoldasasuddenblastoficywind.

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