Гарри Поттер и Орден Феникса

In the Hog’s Head

           I’vetoldtheotherstomeetusintheHog’sHead,thatotherpub,youknowtheone,it’snotonthemainroad.Ithinkit’sabit...youknow...dodgy...butstudentsdon’tnormallygointhere,soIdon’tthinkwe’llbeoverheard.

           TheywalkeddownthemainstreetpastZonko’sWizardingJokeShop,wheretheywerenotsurprisedtoseeFred,GeorgeandLeeJordan,pastthepostoffice,fromwhichowlsissuedatregularintervals,andturnedupaside-streetatthetopofwhichstoodasmallinn.Abatteredwoodensignhungfromarustybracketoverthedoor,withapictureonitofawildboar’sseveredhead,leakingbloodontothewhiteclotharoundit.Thesigncreakedinthewindastheyapproached.Allthreeofthemhesitatedoutsidethedoor.

           ’Well,comeon,’saidHermione,slightlynervously.Harryledthewayinside.

           ItwasnotatallliketheThreeBroomsticks,whoselargebargaveanimpressionofgleamingwarmthandcleanliness.TheHog’sHeadbarcomprisedonesmall,dingyandverydirtyroomthatsmelledstronglyofsomethingthatmighthavebeengoats.Thebaywindowsweresoencrustedwithgrimethatverylittledaylightcouldpermeatetheroom,whichwaslitinsteadwiththestubsofcandlessittingonroughwoodentables.Thefloorseemedatfirstglancetobecompressedearth,thoughasHarrysteppedontoitherealisedthattherewasstonebeneathwhatseemedtobetheaccumulatedfilthofcenturies.

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