Гарри Поттер и философский камень
Through the Trapdoor
Adisgustingsmellfilledtheirnostrils,makingbothofthempulltheirrobesupovertheirnoses. Eyeswatering,theysaw,flatonthefloorinfrontofthem,atrollevenlargerthantheonetheyhadtackled,outcoldwithabloodylumponitshead.
"I’mgladwedidn’thavetofightthatone,"Harrywhisperedastheysteppedcarefullyoveroneofitsmassivelegs. "Comeon,Ican’tbreathe."
Hepulledopenthenextdoor,bothofthemhardlydaringtolookatwhatcamenext—buttherewasnothingveryfrighteninginhere,justatablewithsevendifferentlyshapedbottlesstandingonitinaline.
"Snape’s,"saidHarry. "Whatdowehavetodo?"
Theysteppedoverthethreshold,andimmediatelyafiresprangupbehindtheminthedoorway. Itwasn’tordinaryfireeither;itwaspurple. Atthesameinstant,blackflamesshotupinthedoorwayleadingonward. Theyweretrapped.
"Look! "Hermioneseizedarollofpaperlyingnexttothebottles. Harrylookedoverhershouldertoreadit:
Dangerliesbeforeyou,whilesafetyliesbehind,
Twoofuswillhelpyou,whicheveryouwouldfind,
Oneamongussevenwillletyoumoveahead,
Anotherwilltransportthedrinkerbackinstead,
Twoamongournumberholdonlynettlewine,
Threeofusarekillers,waitinghiddeninline.
