Гарри Поттер и Орден Феникса

A Peck of Owls

           ’Alldark,’Dudleysaidhoarsely,shuddering.’Everythingdark.AndthenIh-heard...things.Insidem-myhead...

           UncleVernonandAuntPetuniaexchangedlooksofutterhorror.Iftheirleastfavouritethingintheworldwasmagic,closelyfollowedbyneighbourswhocheatedmorethantheydidonthehosepipeban,peoplewhoheardvoicesweredefinitelyinthebottomten.TheyobviouslythoughtDudleywaslosinghismind.

           ’Whatsortofthingsdidyouhear,popkin?’breathedAuntPetunia,verywhite-facedandwithtearsinhereyes.

           ButDudleyseemedincapableofsaying.Heshudderedagainandshookhislargeblondhead,anddespitethesenseofnumbdreadthathadsettledonHarrysincethearrivalofthefirstowl,hefeltacertaincuriosity.Dementorscausedapersontorelivetheworstmomentsoftheirlife....Whatwouldspoiled,pampered,bullyingDudleyhavebeenforcedtohear?

           ’Howcomeyoufellover,son?’saidUncleVernon,inanunnaturallyquietvoice,thekindofvoicehemightadoptatthebedsideofaveryillperson.

           ’T-tripped,’saidDudleyshakily.’Andthen

           Hegesturedathismassivechest.Harryunderstood:Dudleywasrememberingtheclammycoldthatfilledthelungsashopeandhappinessweresuckedoutofyou.

           ’Horrible,’croakedDudley.’Cold.Reallycold.

           ’OK,’saidUncleVernon,inavoiceofforcedcalm,whileAuntPetunialaidananxioushandonDudley’sforeheadtofeelhistemperature.’Whathappenedthen,Dudders?’

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