时间：02-24 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：2381
He heard Ron give a strangled cheer, and they turned the next bend to see his eager face staring through the sizable gap he had managed to make in the rock fall.
Professor Flitwick let out a squeal. Professor Sprout clapped her hands over her mouth. Snape gripped the back of a chair very hard and said, "How can you be sure?"
"Good evening, Lucius," said Dumbledore pleasantly.
Even the pain was leaving him ....
The staffroom door banged open again. For one wild moment, Harry was sure it would be Dumbledore. But it was Lockhart, and he was beaming.
Then he waved the wand once, and the letters of his name rearranged themselves:
safe to let go of him when Snape had seen them out of the castle and they were making their way across the vegetable patch toward the greenhouses.
Dumbledore crossed to one of the chairs by the fire.
"Probably getting ready to pounce," said Ron.
He raised Ron's Spellotaped wand high over his head and yelled, "Obliviate!"
"Do you think it's Malfoy, Harry?" Ernie asked.
The Gryffindor common room was always very crowded these days, because from six o'clock onward the Gryffindors had no -
"But -" Harry thought hard. The only times he'd ever managed to speak Parseltongue were when he'd been faced with a real snake. He stared hard at the tiny- engraving, trying to imagine it was real.
The stranger had rumpled gray hair and an anxious expression, and was wearing a strange mixture of clothes: a pinstriped suit, a
There was an explosion of cheering. Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and wasn't at all surprised to see that Draco Malfoy hadn't joined in. Ron, however, was looking happier than he'd looked in days.
Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets -- but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house, too.