Гарри Поттер и Дары Смерти

The Dark Lord Ascending

           Heseemedunabletopreventhimselffromglancingupwardeveryminuteorso.

           "Yaxley.Snape,"saidahigh,clearvoicefromtheheadofthetable."Youareverynearlylate."

           Thespeakerwasseateddirectlyinfrontofthefireplace,sothatitwasdifficult,atfirst,forthenewarrivalstomakeoutmorethanhissilhouette.Astheydrewnearer,however,hisfaceshonethroughthegloom,hairless,snakelike,withslitsfornostrilsandgleamingredeyeswhosepupilswerevertical.Hewassopalethatheseemedtoemitapearlyglow.

           "Severus,here,"saidVoldemort,indicatingtheseatonhisimmediateright."YaxleybesideDolohov."

           Thetwomentooktheirallottedplaces.MostoftheeyesaroundthetablefollowedSnape,anditwastohimthatVoldemortspokefirst.

           "So?"

           "MyLord,theOrderofthePhoenixintendstomoveHarryPotterfromhiscurrentplaceofsafetyonSaturdaynext,atnightfall."

           Theinterestaroundthetablesharpenedpalpably:Somestiffened,othersfidgeted,allgazingatSnapeandVoldemort.

           "Saturday...atnightfall,"repeatedVoldemort.HisredeyesfasteneduponSnape’sblackoneswithsuchintensitythatsomeofthewatcherslookedaway,apparentlyfearfulthattheythemselveswouldbescorchedbytheferocityofthegaze.Snape,however,lookedcalmlybackintoVoldemort’sfaceand,afteramomentortwo,Voldemort’sliplessmouthcurvedintosomethinglikeasmile.

           "Good.Verygood.Andthisinformationcomes"

           "fromthesourcewediscussed,"saidSnape.

           "MyLord."

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