Гарри Поттер и философский камень

           IttookperhapsthirtysecondsforSnapetorealizethathewasonfire.Asuddenyelptoldhershehaddoneherjob. Scoopingthefireoffhimintoalittlejarinherpocket,shescrambledbackalongtherow—Snapewouldneverknowwhathadhappened. 

           Itwasenough.Upintheair,Harrywassuddenlyabletoclamberbackontohisbroom. 

           "Neville,youcanlook!"Ronsaid.NevillehadbeensobbingintoHagrid’sjacketforthelastfiveminutes. 

           Harrywasspeedingtowardthegroundwhenthecrowdsawhimclaphishandtohismouthasthoughhewasabouttobesick—hehitthefieldonallfours—coughed—andsomethinggoldfellintohishand. 

           "I’vegottheSnitch!"heshouted,wavingitabovehishead,andthegameendedincompleteconfusion. 

           "Hedidn’tcatchit,henearlyswallowedit,"Flintwasstillhowlingtwentyminuteslater,butitmadenodifference—Harryhadn’tbrokenanyrulesandLeeJordanwasstillhappilyshoutingtheresults—Gryffindorhadwonbyonehundredandseventypointstosixty. Harryheardnoneofthis,though.HewasbeingmadeacupofstrongteabackinHagrid’shut,withRonandHermione. 

           "ItwasSnape,"Ronwasexplaining,"HermioneandIsawhim.Hewascursingyourbroomstick,muttering,hewouldn’ttakehiseyesoffyou." 

           "Rubbish,"saidHagrid,whohadn’theardawordofwhathadgoneonnexttohiminthestands."WhywouldSnapedosomethin’likethat?"