Гарри Поттер и Орден Феникса

The Lost Prophecy

           ’Thereisnoshameinwhatyouarefeeling,Harry,’saidDumbledore’svoice.’Onthecontrary...thefactthatyoucanfeelpainlikethisisyourgreateststrength.

           Harryfeltthewhite-hotangerlickhisinsides,blazingintheterribleemptiness,fillinghimwiththedesiretohurtDumbledoreforhiscalmnessandhisemptywords.

           ’Mygreateststrength,isit?’saidHarry,hisvoiceshakingashestaredoutattheQuidditchstadium,nolongerseeingit.’Youhaven’tgotaclue...youdon’tknow...

           ’Whatdon’tIknow?’askedDumbledorecalmly.

           Itwastoomuch.Harryturnedaround,shakingwithrage.

           ’Idon’twanttotalkabouthowIfeel,allright?’

           ’Harry,sufferinglikethisprovesyouarestillaman!Thispainispartofbeinghuman

           ’THENIDON’TWANTTOBEHUMAN!’Harryroared,andheseizedthedelicatesilverinstrumentfromthespindle-leggedtablebesidehimandflungitacrosstheroom;itshatteredintoahundredtinypiecesagainstthewall.Severalofthepicturesletoutyellsofangerandfright,andtheportraitofArmandoDippetsaid,’Really!’

           ’IDON’TCARE!’Harryyelledatthem,snatchingupalunascopeandthrowingitintothefireplace.’I’VEHADENOUGH,I’VESEENENOUGH,IWANTOUT,IWANTITTOEND,IDON’TCAREANYMORE

           Heseizedthetableonwhichthesilverinstrumenthadstoodandthrewthat,too.Itbrokeapartonthefloorandthelegsrolledindifferentdirections.

           ’Youdocare,’saidDumbledore.

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