Гарри Поттер и философский камень
The Boy who lived
"ThePotters,that’sright,that’swhatIheard—"
"—yes,theirson,Harry—"
Mr.Dursleystoppeddead. Fearfloodedhim. Helookedbackatthewhisperersasifhewantedtosaysomethingtothem, butthoughtbetterofit.
Hedashedbackacrosstheroad, hurrieduptohisoffice, snappedathissecretarynottodisturbhim, seizedhistelephone,andhadalmostfinisheddialinghishomenumber whenhechangedhismind. Heputthereceiverbackdownandstrokedhismustache, thinking...no,hewasbeingstupid. Potterwasn’tsuchanunusualname. HewassuretherewerelotsofpeoplecalledPotter whohadasoncalledHarry. Cometothinkofit,hewasn’tevensurehisnephewwascalledHarry. He’dneverevenseentheboy. ItmighthavebeenHarvey. OrHarold. TherewasnopointinworryingMrs.Dursley; shealwaysgotsoupsetatanymentionofhersister. Hedidn’tblameher—ifhe’dhadasisterlikethat... butallthesame,thosepeopleincloaks...
Hefounditalothardertoconcentrateondrills thatafternoonandwhenheleftthebuildingatfiveo’clock, hewasstillsoworriedthathewalkedstraightintosomeonejustoutsidethedoor.
"Sorry,"hegrunted,asthetinyoldman stumbledandalmostfell. ItwasafewsecondsbeforeMr.Dursleyrealized thatthemanwaswearingavioletcloak. Hedidn’tseematallupsetatbeingalmostknockedtotheground.
Onthecontrary,hisfacesplitintoawidesmileandhesaidinasqueakyvoicethatmadepassersbystare, "Don’tbesorry,mydearsir, fornothingcouldupsetmetoday!
