Гарри Поттер и Дары Смерти

A Place To Hide

           Somethingshiftedintheshadowsattheendofthehall,andbeforeanyofthemcouldsayanotherword,afigurehadrisenupoutofthecarpet,tall,dust-colored,andterrible:HermionescreamedandsodidMrs.Black,hercurtainsflyingopen;thegrayfigurewasglidingtowardthem,fasterandfaster,itswaist-lengthhairandbeardstreamingbehindit,itsfacesunken,fleshless,withemptyeyesockets:Horriblyfamiliar,dreadfullyaltered,itraisedawastedarm,pointingatHarry.

           "No!"Harryshouted,andthoughhehadraisedhiswandnospelloccurredtohim."No!Itwasn’tus!Wedidn’tkillyou"

           Onthewordkill,thefigureexplodedinagreatcloudofdust:Coughing,hiseyeswatering,HarrylookedaroundtoseeHermionecrouchedonthefloorbythedoorwithherarmsoverherhead,andRon,whowasshakingfromheadtofoot,pattingherclumsilyontheshoulderandsaying,"It’sallr-right....It’sg-gone...."

           DustswirledaroundHarrylikemist,catchingthebluegaslight,asMrs.Blackcontinuedtoscream.

           "Mudbloods,filth,stainsofdishonor,taintofshameonthehouseofmyfathers"

           "SHUTUP!"Harrybellowed,directinghiswandather,andwithabangandaburstofredsparks,thecurtainsswungshutagain,silencingher.

           "That...thatwas...."Hermionewhimpered,asRonhelpedhertoherfeet.

           "Yeah,"saidHarry,"butitwasn’treallyhim,wasit?JustsomethingtoscareSnape."

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