Гарри Поттер и Дары Смерти

Magic is Might

           HarryandRonjoinedanumberofoddlydressedmendescendingintowhatappearedtobeanordinaryundergroundpublictoilet,tiledingrimyblackandwhite.

           "Morning,Reg!"calledanotherwizardinnavybluerobesashelethimselfintoacubiclebyinsertinghisgoldentokenintoaslotinthedoor."Bloomingpaininthebum,this,eh?Forcingusalltogettoworkthisway!Whoaretheyexpectingtoturnup,HarryPotter?"

           Thewizardroaredwithlaughterathisownwit.Rongaveaforcedchuckle.

           "Yeah,"hesaid,"stupid,isn’tit?"

           AndheandHarryletthemselvesintoadjoiningcubicles.

           ToHarry’sleftandrightcamethesoundofflushing.Hecroucheddownandpeeredthroughthegapatthebottomofthecubicle,justintimetoseeapairofbootedfeetclimbingintothetoiletnextdoor.HelookedleftandsawRonblinkingathim.

           "Wehavetoflushourselvesin?"hewhispered.

           "Lookslikeit,"Harrywhisperedback;hisvoicecameoutdeepandgravelly.

           Theybothstoodup.Feelingexceptionallyfoolish,Harryclamberedintothetoilet.

           Heknewatoncethathehaddonetherightthing;thoughheappearedtobestandinginwater,hisshoes,feet,androbesremainedquitedry.Hereachedup,pulledthechain,andnextmomenthadzoomeddownashortchute,emergingoutofafireplaceintotheMinistryofMagic.

           Hegotupclumsily;therewasalotmoreofhisbodythanhewasaccustomedto.ThegreatAtriumseemeddarkerthanHarryrememberedit.

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