时间：02-19 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：4459
"All he did was eat and sleep, Ron, you said it yourself," said George.
People's heads turned; those at the back were standing on tiptoe.
Percy looked slightly abashed. Dumbledore left the hall, walking quickly and quietly. Snape stood for a moment, watching the headmaster with an expression of deep resentment on his face; then he too left.
Harry stood there, gazing at the miraculous map. He watched the tiny ink Mrs. Norris turn left and pause to sniff at something on the floor. If Filch really didn't know... he wouldn't have to pass the dementors at all....
"We thought you'd died," said Alicia, who was shaking.
Professor Lupin smiled at the look of indignation on every face.
"Honestly, am I the only person who's ever bothered to read Hogwarts, A History?" said Hermione crossly to Harry and Ron.
The Sneakoscope whirled and whistled in his palm. Crookshanks was hissing and spitting at it.
Harry didn't have time to fathom the mystery of Hermione's impossible schedule at the moment; he really needed to get on with Snape's essay. Two seconds later, however, he was interrupted again, this time by Wood.
Lupin raised an eyebrow.
Again, Harry didn't answer. He didn't know what he wanted to do. All he knew was that the idea of doing nothing, while Black was at liberty, was almost more than he could stand.
It was Peeves the Poltergeist, bobbing over the crowd and looking delighted, as he always did, at the sight of wreckage or worry.
"But Sirius Black escaped from them," Harry said slowly. "He got away..."
No one said anything. The horrible truth sank into Harry like a stone.
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 --"（央视记者 徐海霞）
It was a Firebolt, identical to the dream broom Harry had gone to see every day in Diagon Alley. Its handle glittered as he picked it up. He could feel it vibrating and let go; it hung in midair, unsupported, at exactly the right height for him to mount it. His eyes moved from the golden registration number at the top of the handle, right down to the perfectly smooth, streamlined birch twigs that made up the tail.。