Гарри Поттер и философский камень

           "NOTHING!Hahaaa!ToldyouIwouldn’tsaynothingifyoudidn’tsayplease!Haha!Haaaaaa!"AndtheyheardthesoundofPeeveswhooshingawayandFilchcursinginrage. 

           "Hethinksthisdoorislocked,"Harrywhispered."Ithinkwe’llbeokay—getoff,Neville!"ForNevillehadbeentuggingonthesleeveofHarry’sbathrobeforthelastminute."What?" 

           Harryturnedaround—andsaw,quiteclearly,what.Foramoment,hewassurehe’dwalkedintoanightmare—thiswastoomuch,ontopofeverythingthathadhappenedsofar. 

           Theyweren’tinaroom,ashehadsupposed.Theywereinacorridor.Theforbiddencorridoronthethirdfloor.Andnowtheyknewwhyitwasforbidden. 

           Theywerelookingstraightintotheeyesofamonstrousdog,adogthatfilledthewholespacebetweenceilingandfloor.Ithadthreeheads. Threepairsofrolling,madeyes;threenoses,twitchingandquiveringintheirdirection;threedroolingmouths,salivahanginginslipperyropesfromyellowishfangs. 

           Itwasstandingquitestill,allsixeyesstaringatthem,andHarryknewthattheonlyreasontheyweren’talreadydeadwasthattheirsuddenappearancehadtakenitbysurprise,butitwasquicklygettingoverthat,therewasnomistakingwhatthosethunderousgrowlsmeant. 

           Harrygropedforthedoorknob—betweenFilchanddeath,he’dtakeFilch. 

           Theyfellbackward—Harryslammedthedoorshut,andtheyran,theyalmostflew,backdownthecorridor.