Гарри Поттер и Орден Феникса

Professor Umbridge

           Foramoment,Harrythoughtshewasgoingtoscreamathim.Thenshesaid,inhersoftest,mostsweetlygirlishvoice,’Comehere,Mr.Potter,dear.

           Hekickedhischairaside,strodearoundRonandHermioneanduptotheteacher’sdesk.Hecouldfeeltherestoftheclassholdingitsbreath.Hefeltsoangryhedidnotcarewhathappenednext.

           ProfessorUmbridgepulledasmallrollofpinkparchmentoutofherhandbag,stretcheditoutonthedesk,dippedherquillintoabottleofinkandstartedscribbling,hunchedoversothatHarrycouldnotseewhatshewaswriting.Nobodyspoke.Afteraminuteorsosherolleduptheparchmentandtappeditwithherwand;itsealeditselfseamlesslysothathecouldnotopenit.

           ’TakethistoProfessorMcGonagall,dear,’saidProfessorUmbridge,holdingoutthenotetohim.

           Hetookitfromherwithoutsayingaword,turnedonhisheelandlefttheroom,notevenlookingbackatRonandHermione,slammingtheclassroomdoorshutbehindhim.Hewalkedveryfastalongthecorridor,thenotetoMcGonagallclutchedtightinhishand,andturningacornerwalkedslapintoPeevesthepoltergeist,awide-mouthedlittlemanfloatingonhisbackinmidair,jugglingseveralinkwells.

           ’Why,it’sPottyWeePotter!’cackledPeeves,allowingtwooftheinkwellstofalltothegroundwheretheysmashedandspatteredthewallswithink;Harryjumpedbackwardsoutofthewaywithasnarl.

           ’Getoutofit,Peeves.

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