Гарри Поттер и философский камень
The Boy who lived
"IwouldtrustHagridwithmylife,"saidDumbledore.
"I’mnotsayinghisheartisn’tintherightplace," saidProfessorMcGonagallgrudgingly, "butyoucan’tpretendhe’snotcareless. Hedoestendto —whatwasthat?"
Alowrumblingsoundhadbrokenthesilencearoundthem. Itgrewsteadilylouderastheylookedupanddownthestreet forsomesignofaheadlight; itswelledtoaroarastheybothlookedupatthesky —andahugemotorcyclefelloutoftheairandlandedontheroadinfrontofthem.
Ifthemotorcyclewashuge, itwasnothingtothemansittingastrideit. Hewasalmosttwiceastallasanormalman andatleastfivetimesaswide. Helookedsimplytoobigtobeallowed, andsowild—longtanglesofbushyblackhair andbeardhidmostofhisface, hehadhandsthesizeoftrashcanlids, andhisfeetintheirleatherbootswerelikebabydolphins. Inhisvast,musculararmshewasholdingabundleofblankets.
"Hagrid,"saidDumbledore,soundingrelieved. "Atlast.Andwheredidyougetthatmotorcycle?"
"Borrowedit,ProfessorDumbledore,sir," saidthegiant,climbingcarefullyoffthemotorcycleashespoke. "YoungSiriusBlacklentittome.I’vegothim,sir."
"Noproblems,werethere?"
"No,sir—housewasalmostdestroyed, butIgothimoutallrightbeforetheMugglesstartedswarmin’around. Hefellasleepaswewasflyin’overBristol."
