Гарри Поттер и Дары Смерти

Gringotts

           ThebaroftheLeakyCauldronwasnearlydeserted.Tom,thestoopedandtoothlesslandlord,waspolishingglassesbehindthebarcounter;acoupleofwarlockshavingamutteredconversationinthefarcornerglancedatHermioneanddrewbackintotheshadows.

           "MadamLestrange,"murmuredTom,andasHermionepausedheinclinedhisheadsubserviently.

           "Goodmorning,"saidHermione,andasHarrycreptpast,stillcarryingGriphookpiggybackundertheCloak,hesawTomlooksurprised.

           "Toopolite,"HarrywhisperedinHermione’searastheypassedoutoftheInnintothetinybackyard."Youneedtotreatpeoplelikethey’rescum!"

           "Okay,okay!"

           HermionedrewoutBellatrix’swandandrappedabrickinthenondescriptwallinfrontofthem.Atoncethebricksbegantowhirlandspin:Aholeappearedinthemiddleofthem,whichgrewwiderandwider,finallyforminganarchwayontothenarrowcobbledstreetthatwasDiagonAlley.

           Itwasquiet,barelytimefortheshopstoopen,andtherewerehardlyandshoppersabroad.Thecrooked,cobbledstreetwasmuchalterednowfromthebustlingplaceHarryhadvisitedbeforehisfirstteamatHogwartssomanyyearsbefore.Moreshopsthaneverwereboardedup,thoughseveralnewestablishmentsdedicatedtotheDarkArtshadbeencreatedsincehislastvisit.Harry’sownfaceglareddownathimfrompostersplasteredovermanywindows,alwayscaptionedwiththewordsUNDESIRABLENUMBERONE.

           Anumberofraggedpeoplesathuddledindoorways.

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