Гарри Поттер и Орден Феникса

Christmas on the Closed Ward

           Shewasstandingatthestoveandsoundedasthoughshehadabadheadcoldasshewishedthem’MerryChristmas’,andtheyallavertedtheireyes.

           ’So,isthisKreacher’sbedroom?’saidRon,strollingovertoadingydoorinthecorneroppositethepantry.Harryhadneverseenitopen.

           ’Yes,’saidHermione,nowsoundingalittlenervous.’Er...Ithinkwe’dbetterknock.

           Ronrappedonthedoorwithhisknucklesbuttherewasnoreply.

           ’Hemustbesneakingaroundupstairs,’hesaid,andwithoutfurtheradopulledopenthedoor.’Urgh!’

           Harrypeeredinside.Mostofthecupboardwastakenupwithaverylargeandold-fashionedboiler,butinthefootofspaceunderneaththepipesKreacherhadmadehimselfsomethingthatlookedlikeanest.AjumbleofassortedragsandsmellyoldblanketswerepiledonthefloorandthesmalldentinthemiddleofitshowedwhereKreachercurleduptosleepeverynight.Hereandthereamongthematerialwerestalebreadcrustsandmouldyoldbitsofcheese.InafarcornerglintedsmallobjectsandcoinsthatHarryguessedKreacherhadsaved,magpie-like,fromSirius’spurgeofthehouse,andhehadalsomanagedtoretrievethesilver-framedfamilyphotographsthatSiriushadthrownawayoverthesummer.Theirglassmightbeshattered,butstillthelittleblack-and-whitepeopleinsidethempeeredupathimhaughtily,includinghefeltalittlejoltinhisstomachthedark,heavy-liddedwomanwhosetrialhehadwitnessedinDumbledore’sPensieve:BellatrixLestrange.

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