Гарри Поттер и Дары Смерти

The Lost Diadem

           "We’reuponthefifthfloor,"hewhispered,watchingfilchmovingawayfromthem,acorridorahead."Comeon,thisway."

           Theycreptoff.

           Harryhadprowledthecastleatnightmanytimesbefore,butneverhadhishearthammeredthatfast,neverhadsomuchdependedonhissafepassagethroughtheplace.Throughsquaresofmoonlightuponthefloor,pastsuitsofarmorwhosehelmetscreakedatthesoundoftheirsoftfootsteps,aroundcornersbeyondwhichwhoknewwhatlurked.HarryandLunawalked,checkingtheMarauder’sMapwheneverlightpermitted,twicepausingtoallowaghosttopasswithoutdrawingattentiontothemselves.Heexpectedtoencounteranobstacleatanymoment;hisworstfearwasPeeves,andhestrainedhisearswitheverysteptohearthefirst,telltalesignsofthepoltergeist’sapproach.

           "Theway,Harry,"breathedLuna,pluckinghissleeveandpullinghimtowardaspiralstaircase.

           Theyclimbedintight,dizzyingcircles;Harryhadneverbeenupherebefore.Atlasttheyreachedadoor.Therewasnohandleandnokeyhole:nothingbutaplainexpanseofagedwood,andabronzeknockerintheshapeaneagle.

           Lunareachedoutapalehand,whichlookedeeriefloatinginmidair,unconnectedtoarmorbody.Sheknockedonce,andinthesilenceitsoundedtoHarrylikeacannonblast.Atoncethebeakoftheeagleopened,butinsteadofabird’scalled,asoft,musicalvoicesaid,"Whichcamefirst,thephoenixortheflame?"

           "Hmm…Whatdoyouthink,Harry?"saidLuna,lookingthoughtful.

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