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, andsowildlongtanglesofbushyblackhair andbeardhidmostofhisface, hehadhandsthesizeoftrashcanlids, andhisfeetintheirleatherbootswerelikebabydolphins. Inhisvast,musculararmshewasholdingabundleofblankets. 

           "Hagrid,"saidDumbledore,soundingrelieved. "Atlast.Andwheredidyougetthatmotorcycle?" 

           "Borrowedit,ProfessorDumbledore,sir," saidthegiant,climbingcarefullyoffthemotorcycleashespoke. "YoungSiriusBlacklentittome.I’vegothim,sir." 

           "Noproblems,werethere?" 

           "No,sirhousewasalmostdestroyed, butIgothimoutallrightbeforetheMugglesstartedswarmin’around. Hefellasleepaswewasflyin’overBristol." 

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