Гарри Поттер и философский камень
The Forbidden Forest
Halfblinded,hestaggeredbackward.Heheardhoovesbehindhim,galloping,andsomethingjumpedcleanoverHarry,chargingatthefigure.
ThepaininHarry’sheadwassobadhefelltohisknees.Ittookaminuteortwotopass.Whenhelookedup,thefigurehadgone.Acentaurwasstandingoverhim,notRonanorBane;thisonelookedyounger;hehadwhite-blondhairandapalominobody.
"Areyouallright?"saidthecentaur,pullingHarrytohisfeet.
"Yes—thankyou—whatwasthat?"
Thecentaurdidn’tanswer.Hehadastonishinglyblueeyes,likepalesapphires.HelookedcarefullyatHarry,hiseyeslingeringonthescarthatstoodout,livid,onHarry’sforehead.
"YouarethePotterboy,"hesaid."YouhadbettergetbacktoHagrid.Theforestisnotsafeatthistime—especiallyforyou.Canyouride?Itwillbequickerthisway.
"MynameisFirenze,"headded,asheloweredhimselfontohisfrontlegssothatHarrycouldclamberontohisback.
Therewassuddenlyasoundofmoregallopingfromtheothersideoftheclearing.RonanandBanecameburstingthroughthetrees,theirflanksheavingandsweaty.
"Firenze!"Banethundered."Whatareyoudoing?Youhaveahumanonyourback!Haveyounoshame?Areyouacommonmule?"
"Doyourealizewhothisis?"saidFirenze."ThisisthePotterboy.Thequickerheleavesthisforest,thebetter."
