Гарри Поттер и Принц-полукровка
Horace Slughorn
Heseemedremarkablyunabashedforamanwhohadjustbeendiscoveredpretendingtobeanarmchair.
"MydearHorace,"saidDumbledore,lookingamused,"iftheDeathEatersreallyhadcometocall,theDarkMarkwouldhavebeensetoverthehouse."
Thewizardclappedapudgyhandtohisvastforehead.
"TheDarkMark,"hemuttered."Knewtherewassomething...ahwell.Wouldn’thavehadtimeanyway,I’donlyjustputthefinishingtouchestomyupholsterywhenyouenteredtheroom."
Heheavedagreatsighthatmadetheendsofhismustacheflutter.
"Wouldyoulikemyassistanceclearingup?"askedDumbledorepolitely.
"Please,"saidtheother.
Theystoodbacktoback,thetallthinwizardandtheshortroundone,andwavedtheirwandsinoneidenticalsweepingmotion.
Thefurnitureflewbacktoitsoriginalplaces;ornamentsre-formedinmidair,featherszoomedintotheircushions;tornbooksrepairedthemselvesastheylandedupontheirshelves;oillanternssoaredontosidetablesandreignited;avastcollectionofsplinteredsilverpictureframesflewglitteringacrosstheroomandalighted,wholeanduntarnished,uponadesk;rips,cracks,andholeshealedeverywhere,andthewallswipedthemselvesclean.
"Whatkindofbloodwasthat,incidentally?"askedDumbledoreloudlyoverthechimingofthenewlyunsmashedgrandfatherflock.
"Onthewalls?Dragon,"shoutedthewizardcalledHorace,as,withadeafeninggrindingandtinkling,thechandelierscreweditselfbackintotheceiling.
Therewasafinalplunkfromthepiano,andsilence.
