Гарри Поттер и философский камень
The Boy who lived
"Ishallseeyousoon,Iexpect,ProfessorMcGonagall," saidDumbledore,noddingtoher. ProfessorMcGonagallblewhernoseinreply.
Dumbledoreturnedandwalkedbackdownthestreet. OnthecornerhestoppedandtookoutthesilverPut-Outer. Heclickeditonce, andtwelveballsoflightspedbacktotheirstreetlamps sothatPrivetDriveglowedsuddenlyorange andhecouldmakeoutatabbycatslinkingaroundthecornerattheotherendofthestreet. Hecouldjustseethebundleofblanketsonthestepofnumberfour.
"Goodluck,Harry,"hemurmured. Heturnedonhisheel andwithaswishofhiscloak,hewasgone.
AbreezeruffledtheneathedgesofPrivetDrive, whichlaysilentandtidyundertheinkysky, theverylastplaceyouwouldexpectastonishingthingstohappen. HarryPotterrolledoverinsidehisblanketswithoutwakingup. Onesmallhandclosedontheletterbesidehimandheslepton, notknowinghewasspecial, notknowinghewasfamous, notknowinghewouldbewokeninafewhours’timebyMrs.Dursley’sscream assheopenedthefrontdoortoputoutthemilkbottles, northathewouldspendthenextfewweeksbeingproddedandpinchedbyhiscousinDudley...
