Гарри Поттер и философский камень
Diagon Alley
Couldtherereallybepilesofwizardgoldburiedmilesbeneaththem? Weretherereallyshopsthatsoldspellbooksandbroomsticks? MightthisnotallbesomehugejokethattheDursleyshadcookedup? IfHarryhadn’tknownthattheDursleyshadnosenseofhumor,hemighthavethoughtso; yetsomehow,eventhougheverythingHagridhadtoldhimsofarwasunbelievable,Harrycouldn’thelptrustinghim.
"Thisisit,"saidHagrid,comingtoahalt,"theLeakyCauldron. It’safamousplace."
Itwasatiny,grubby-lookingpub. IfHagridhadn’tpointeditout,Harrywouldn’thavenoticeditwasthere. Thepeoplehurryingbydidn’tglanceatit. Theireyesslidfromthebigbookshopononesidetotherecordshopontheother asiftheycouldn’tseetheLeakyCauldronatall. Infact,HarryhadthemostpeculiarfeelingthatonlyheandHagridcouldseeit. Beforehecouldmentionthis,Hagridhadsteeredhiminside.
Forafamousplace,itwasverydarkandshabby. Afewoldwomenweresittinginacorner,drinkingtinyglassesofsherry. Oneofthemwassmokingalongpipe. Alittlemaninatophatwastalkingtotheoldbartender,whowasquitebaldandlookedlikeatoothlesswalnut. Thelowbuzzofchatterstoppedwhentheywalkedin. EveryoneseemedtoknowHagrid; theywavedandsmiledathim,andthebartenderreachedforaglass,saying, "Theusual,Hagrid?"
"Can’t,Tom,I’monHogwartsbusiness,"saidHagrid,clappinghisgreathandonHarry’sshoulder andmakingHarry’skneesbuckle.
"GoodLord,"saidthebartender,peeringatHarry,"isthis—canthisbe—?"
