Гарри Поттер и Дары Смерти

Magic is Might

           Aseveningdrewin,bringingwithitanunexpectedgustofchillyrainforthefirsttimeinweeks,thereoccurredoneofthoseinexplicablemomentswhentheyappearedtohaveseensomethinginteresting.Themanwiththetwistedfacepointedandhisclosestcompanion,apodgy,pallidman,startedforward,butamomentlatertheyhadrelaxedintotheirpreviousstateofinactivity,lookingfrustratedanddisappointed.

           Meanwhile,insidenumbertwelve,Harryhadjustenteredthehall.HehadnearlylosthisbalanceasheApparatedontothetopstepjustoutsidethefrontdoor,andthoughtthattheDeathEatersmighthavecaughtaglimpseofhismomentarilyexposedelbow.Shuttingthefrontdoorcarefullybehindhim,hepulledofftheInvisibilityCloak,drapeditoverhisarm,andhurriedalongthegloomyhallwaytowardthedoorthatledtothebasement,astolencopyoftheDailyProphetclutchedinhishand.

           Theusuallowwhisperof"SeverusSnape?"greetedhim,thechillwindswepthim,andhistonguerolledupforamoment.

           "Ididn’tkillyou,"hesaid,onceithadunrolled,thenheldhisbreathasthedustyjinx-figureexploded.Hewaiteduntilhewashalfwaydownthestairstothekitchen,outofearshotofMrs.Blackandclearofthedustcloud,beforecalling,"I’vegotnews,andyouwon’tlikeit."

           Thekitchenwasalmostunrecognizable.

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