Гарри Поттер и Принц-полукровка
A sluggish memory
Theceilingwasthickwithcobwebs,thefloorcoatedingrime;moldyandrottingfoodlayuponthetableamidstamassofcrustedpots.TheonlylightcamefromasinglegutteringcandleplacedatthefeetofamanwithhairandbeardsoovergrownHarrycouldseeneithereyesnormouth.Hewasslumpedinanarmchairbythefire,andHarrywonderedforamomentwhetherhewasdead.Butthentherecamealoudknockonthedoorandthemanjerkedawake,raisingawandinhisrighthandandashortknifeinhisleft.
Thedoorcreakedopen.Thereonthethreshold,holdinganold-fashionedlamp,stoodaboyHarryrecognizedatonce:tall,pale,dark-haired,andhandsome—theteenageVoldemort.
Voldemort’seyesmovedslowlyaroundthehovelandthenfoundthemaninthearmchair.Forafewsecondstheylookedateachother,thenthemanstaggeredupright,themanyemptybottlesathisfeetclatteringandtinklingacrossthefloor.
"YOU!"hebellowed."YOU!"
AndhehurtleddrunkenlyatRiddle,wandandknifeheldaloft.
"Stop."
RiddlespokeinParseltongue.Themanskiddedintothetable,sendingmoldypotscrashingtothefloor.HestaredatRiddle.Therewasalongsilencewhiletheycontemplatedeachother.Themanbrokeit.
"Youspeakit?"
"Yes,Ispeakit,"saidRiddle.Hemovedforwardintotheroom,allowingthedoortoswingshutbehindhim.HarrycouldnothelpbutfeelaresentfuladmirationforVoldemort’scompletelackoffear.Hisfacemerelyexpresseddisgustand,perhaps,disappointment.
"WhereisMarvolo?"heasked.
"Dead,"saidtheother.
