时间：02-25 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：4430
"Well, let's hope not," said Wood. "Anyway -- good work, everyone. Let's get back to the tower... turn in early --"
The day before the match, the winds reached howling point and the rain fell harder than ever. It was so dark inside the corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns were lit. The Slytherin team was looking very smug indeed, and none more so than Malfoy.
"What! You'd better get a move on, you know -- you can't ride that Shooting Star against Ravenclaw!"
But even as he stood there, flooded with excitement, something Harry had once heard Mr. Weasley say came floating out of his memory.
Harry didn't have a very clear idea of how he had managed to get back into the Honeydukes cellar, through the tunnel, and into the castle once more. All he knew was that the return trip seemed to take no time at all, and that he hardly noticed what he was doing, because his head was still pounding with the conversation he had just heard.
"Why don't you just drop a couple of subjects?" Harry asked, watching her lifting books as she searched for her rune dictionary.
"It seems -- almost impossible -- that Black could have entered the school without inside help. I did express my concerns whet, you appointed --"
The hinkypunk made a horrible squelching noise against the glass.
A ray of wintery sunlight fell across the classroom, illuminating Lupin's gray hairs and the lines on his young face.
"We do like them!" lied Hermione at once.
"I couldn' leave him tied up out there in the snow!" choked Hagrid. "All on his own! At Christmas."
"There's nothing wrong with Malfoy's arm!" said Harry furiously. "He's faking it!"
"Well, he wasn't in the hospital wing," said Ron. "I was there, cleaning out the bedpans on that detention from Snape, remember?"
At least a hundred dementors, their hidden faces pointing up at him, were standing beneath him. It was as though freezing water were rising in his chest, cutting at his insides. And then he heard it again.... Someone was screaming, screaming inside his head... a woman...
Harry reached for his glasses and put them on, squinting through the semi-darkness to the foot of his bed, where a small heap of parcels had appeared. Ron was already ripping the paper off his own presents.
Professor McGonagall seemed very taken aback. She stared at Harry for a moment or two, then said, "I see! Well, in that case, Potter, you'll understand why I don't think it's a good idea for you to be practicing Quidditch in the evenings. Out on the field with only Your team members, it's very exposed, Potter --"。