Гарри Поттер и Дары Смерти

Xenophilius Lovegood

           Lunawasnotthere:Thethingthatwasmakingsucharacketwasawoodenobjectcoveredinmagicallyturningcogsandwheels,Itlookedlikethebizarreoffspringofaworkbenchandasetofshelves,butafteramomentHarrydeducedthatitwasanold-fashionedprintingpress,duetothefactthatitwaschurningoutQuibblers.

           "Excuseme,"saidXenophilius,andhestrodeovertothemachine,seizedgrubbilytableclothfrombeneathanimmensenumberofbooksandpapers,whichalltumbledontothefloor,andthrewitoverthepress,somewhatmufflingtheloudbangsandclatters.HethenfacedHarry.

           "Whyhaveyoucomehere?"

           BeforeHarrycouldspeak,however,Hermioneletoutasmallcryofshock.

           "Mr.Lovegoodwhat’sthat?"

           Seewaspointingatanenormous,grayspiralhorn,notunlikethatofaunicorn,whichhadbeenmountedonthewall,protrudingseveralfeetintotheroom.

           "ItisthehornofaCrumple-HornedSnorkack,"saidXenophilius.

           "No,itisn’t!"saidHermione.

           "Hermione,"mutteredHarry,embarrassed,"now’snotthemoment"

           "ButHarry,it’sanErumpenthorn!It’saClassBTradeableMaterialandit’sanextraordinarydangerousthingtohaveinahouse!"

           "How’dyouknowit’sanErumpenthorn?"askedRon,edgingawayfromthehornasfastashecould,giventheextremeclutteroftheroom.

           "There’sadescriptioninFantasticBeastsandWheretoFindThem!Mr.

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