Гарри Поттер и философский камень

           That’swhatyehgetwhenapowerful,evilcursetouchesyeh—tookcareofyermuman’dadan’yerhouse,even—butitdidn’tworkonyou, an’that’swhyyerfamous,Harry. Nooneeverlivedafterhedecidedterkill’em,nooneexceptyou, an’he’dkilledsomeo’thebestwitchesan’wizardsoftheage—theMcKinnons,theBones,thePrewetts—an’youwasonlyababy,an’youlived." 

           SomethingverypainfulwasgoingoninHarry’smind. AsHagrid’sstorycametoaclose,hesawagaintheblindingflashofgreenlight,moreclearlythanhehadeverremembereditbefore—andherememberedsomethingelse,forthefirsttimeinhislife: ahigh,cold,cruellaugh. 

           Hagridwaswatchinghimsadly. 

           "Tookyehfromtheruinedhousemyself,onDumbledore’sorders.Broughtyehterthislot..." 

           "Loadofoldtosh,"saidUncleVernon. Harryjumped; hehadalmostforgottenthattheDursleyswerethere. UncleVernoncertainlyseemedtohavegotbackhiscourage. HewasglaringatHagridandhisfistswereclenched. 

           "Now,youlistenhere,boy,"hesnarled, "Iacceptthere’ssomethingstrangeaboutyou,probablynothingagoodbeatingwouldn’thavecured—andasforallthisaboutyourparents,well,theywereweirdoes,nodenyingit, andtheworld’sbetteroffwithouttheminmyopinion—askedforalltheygot,gettingmixedupwiththesewizardingtypes —justwhatIexpected,alwaysknewthey’dcometoastickyend—" 

           Butatthatmoment,Hagridleaptfromthesofaanddrewabatteredpinkumbrellafrominsidehiscoat.