Гарри Поттер и философский камень
Letters from No One
ThelighteddialofDudley’swatch,whichwasdanglingovertheedgeofthesofaonhisfatwrist,told Harryhe’dbeelevenintenminutes’time. Helayandwatchedhisbirthdayticknearer, wonderingiftheDursleyswouldrememberatall, wonderingwheretheletterwriterwasnow.
Fiveminutestogo. Harryheardsomethingcreakoutside. Hehopedtheroofwasn’tgoingtofallin, althoughhemightbewarmerifitdid. Fourminutestogo. MaybethehouseinPrivetDrivewouldbesofullofletterswhentheygotback thathe’dbeabletostealonesomehow.
Threeminutestogo. Wasthatthesea,slappinghardontherocklikethat? And(twominutestogo)whatwasthatfunnycrunchingnoise? Wastherockcrumblingintothesea?
Oneminutetogoandhe’dbeeleven. Thirtyseconds...twenty...ten...nine —maybehe’dwakeDudleyup,justtoannoyhim —three...two...one...
BOOM.
Thewholeshackshivered andHarrysatboltupright,staringatthedoor. Someonewasoutside,knockingtocomein.
