Гарри Поттер и Орден Феникса

Dentention with Delores

           ’Well,IreckonyoushouldRonbegan,buthewasinterruptedbytheFatLady,whohadbeenwatchingthemsleepilyandnowburstout,’AreyougoingtogivemethepasswordorwillIhavetostayawakeallnightwaitingforyoutofinishyourconversation?’

           Fridaydawnedsullenandsoddenastherestoftheweek.ThoughHarryautomaticallyglancedtowardsthestafftablewhenheenteredtheGreatHall,itwaswithoutanyrealhopeofseeingHagrid,andheturnedhismindimmediatelytohismorepressingproblems,suchasthemountainouspileofhomeworkhehadtodoandtheprospectofyetanotherdetentionwithUmbridge.

           TwothingssustainedHarrythatday.Onewasthethoughtthatitwasalmosttheweekend;theotherwasthat,dreadfulthoughhisfinaldetentionwithUmbridgewassuretobe,hehadadistantviewoftheQuidditchpitchfromherwindowandmight,withluck,beabletoseesomethingofRon’stryout.Thesewereratherfeebleraysoflight,itwastrue,butHarrywasgratefulforanythingthatmightlightenhispresentdarkness;hehadneverhadaworsefirstweekoftermatHogwarts.

           Atfiveo’clockthateveningheknockedonProfessorUmbridge’sofficedoorforwhathesincerelyhopedwouldbethefinaltime,andwastoldtoenter.Theblankparchmentlayreadyforhimonthelace-coveredtable,thepointedblackquillbesideit.

           ’Youknowwhattodo,Mr.Potter,’saidUmbridge,smilingsweetlyathim.

           Harrypickedupthequillandglancedthroughthewindow.Ifhejustshiftedhischairaninchorsototheright...onthepretextofshiftinghimselfclosertothetable,hemanagedit.

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