Гарри Поттер и философский камень

           Hesqueezedthroughit,holdinghisbreath,tryingnottomoveit,andtohisreliefhemanagedtogetinsidetheroomwithouttheirnoticinganything. Theywalkedstraightpast,andHarryleanedagainstthewall,breathingdeeply,listeningtotheirfootstepsdyingaway. Thathadbeenclose,veryclose. Itwasafewsecondsbeforehenoticedanythingabouttheroomhehadhiddenin. 

           Itlookedlikeanunusedclassroom. Thedarkshapesofdesksandchairswerepiledagainstthewalls,andtherewasanupturnedwastepaperbasket—butproppedagainstthewallfacinghimwassomethingthatdidn’tlookasifitbelongedthere,somethingthatlookedasifsomeonehadjustputittheretokeepitoutoftheway. 

           Itwasamagnificentmirror,ashighastheceiling,withanornategoldframe,standingontwoclawedfeet. Therewasaninscriptioncarvedaroundthetop: Erisedstraehruoytubecafruoytonwohsi. HispanicfadingnowthattherewasnosoundofFilchandSnape,Harrymovednearertothemirror,wantingtolookathimselfbutseenoreflectionagain. Hesteppedinfrontofit. 

           Hehadtoclaphishandstohismouthtostophimselffromscreaming. Hewhirledaround. Hisheartwaspoundingfarmorefuriouslythanwhenthebookhadscreamed—forhehadseennotonlyhimselfinthemirror,butawholecrowdofpeoplestandingrightbehindhim. 

           Buttheroomwasempty. Breathingveryfast,heturnedslowlybacktothemirror. 

           Therehewas,reflectedinit,whiteandscared-looking,andthere,reflectedbehindhim,wereatleasttenothers. Harrylookedoverhisshoulder—butstill,noonewasthere.