Гарри Поттер и Орден Феникса

The Department of Mysteries

           AsHarry’seyesbecameaccustomedtothebrilliantglare,hesawclocksgleamingfromeverysurface,largeandsmall,grandfatherandcarriage,hanginginspacesbetweenthebookcasesorstandingondesksrangingthelengthoftheroom,sothatabusy,relentlesstickingfilledtheplacelikethousandsofminuscule,marchingfootsteps.Thesourceofthedancing,diamond-brightlightwasatoweringcrystalbelljarthatstoodatthefarendoftheroom.

           ’Thisway!’

           Harry’sheartwaspumpingfranticallynowthatheknewtheywereontherighttrack;heledthewaydownthenarrowspacebetweenthelinesofdesks,heading,ashehaddoneinhisdream,forthesourceofthelight,thecrystalbelljarquiteastallashewasthatstoodonadeskandappearedtobefullofabillowing,glitteringwind.

           ’Oh,took!’saidGinny,astheydrewnearer,pointingattheveryheartofthebelljar.

           Driftingalonginthesparklingcurrentinsidewasatiny,jewel-brightegg.Asitroseinthejar,itcrackedopenandahummingbirdemerged,whichwascarriedtotheverytopofthejar,butasitfellonthedraughtitsfeathersbecamebedraggledanddampagain,andbythetimeithadbeenbornebacktothebottomofthejarithadbeenenclosedoncemoreinitsegg.

           ’Keepgoing!’saidHarrysharply,becauseGinnyshowedsignsofwantingtostopandwatchtheegg’sprogressbackintoabird.

           ’Youdawdledenoughbythatoldarch!’shesaidcrossly,butfollowedhimpastthebelljartotheonlydoorbehindit.

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