Гарри Поттер и Дары Смерти

Magic is Might

           Previouslyagoldenfountainhadfilledthecenterofthehall,castingshimmeringspotsoflightoverthepolishedwoodenfloorandwalls.Nowagiganticstatueofblackstonedominatedthescene.Itwasratherfrightening,thisvastsculptureofawitchandawizardsittingonornatelycarvedthrones,lookingdownattheMinistryworkerstopplingoutoffireplacesbelowthem.Engravedinfoot-highlettersatthebaseofthestatuewerethewordsMAGICISMIGHT.

           Harryreceivedaheavyblowonthebackofthelegs:Anotherwizardhadjustflownoutofthefireplacebehindhim.

           "Outoftheway,can’tyoh,sorry,Runcorn!"

           Clearlyfrightened,thebaldingwizardhurriedaway.ApparentlythemanwhomHarrywasimpersonating,Runcorn,wasintimidating.

           "Psst!"saidavoice,andhelookedaroundtoseeawispylittlewitchandtheferretywizardfromMagicalMaintenancegesturingtohimfromoverbesidethestatue.Harryhastenedtojointhem.

           "Yougotinallright,then?"HermionewhisperedtoHarry.

           "No,he’sstillstuckinthebog,"saidRon.

           "Oh,veryfunny...It’shorrible,isn’tit?"shesaidtoHarry,whowasstaringupatthestatue."Haveyouseenwhatthey’resittingon?"

           Harrylookedmorecloselyandrealizedthatwhathehadthoughtweredecorativelycarvedthroneswereactuallymoundsofcarvedhumans:hundredsandhundredsofnakedbodies,men,women,andchildren,allwithratherstupid,uglyfaces,twistedandpressedtogethertosupporttheweightofthehandsomelyrobedwizards.

           "Muggles,"whisperedHermione.

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