时间：02-25 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：1624
"Yes, they are — but why are you so interested?" asked Hermione, giving Harry a sharp look.
"How d'you work that out?" asked Fred.
The elf obediently took the boxed cup, and Hepzibah turned her attention to the much flatter box in her lap.
"I thought you lived in that girls' bathroom?" said Harry, who had been careful to give the place a wide berth for some years now.
Harry glanced around surreptitiously. A little way to his left, Ernie Macmillan was contemplating his hoop so hard that his face had turned pink; it looked as though he was straining to lay a Quaffle-sized egg. Harry bit back a laugh and hastily returned his gaze to his own hoop.
He turned to leave; he had got two steps towards the door when a crashing blow hit him on the right ear. Staggering, he looked round. Ron's fist was drawn right back, his face was contorted with rage; he was about to strike again.
Harry watched her go, feeling slightly disgruntled. Once the door to the girls' dormitories had closed behind her he rounded on Ron. "What d'you think?"
"I cant see anyone trying to bump off a Quidditch team," said
"Who were you expecting?" said Ron, looking at her in the mirror.
"Harry, you've got to get that memory," she said. "It's all about stopping Voldemort, isn't it? These dreadful things that are hap-pening are all down to him. . . ."
There you are, then,' said Slughorn, handing Harry and Ron a glass of mead each, before raising his own. 'Well, a very happy birthday, Ralph -'
"It's a great feeling when you take it," said Ron reminiscently. "Like you can't do anything wrong."
"Yes, of course," said Slughorn, his eyes now gleaming with en-thusiasm. "I tell you what, Harry, I'll meet you down there with a bottle or two. . . . We'll drink the poor beast's — well — not health — but we'll send it off in style, anyway, once it's buried. And I'll change my tie, this one is a little exuberant for the occa-sion. . . ."
There was a very loud crack, and the sounds of scuffling and squeaks filled the silent room. Ron awoke with a yelp.
There was no mistaking it this time: Voldemort's eyes flashed scarlet at the words, and Harry saw his knuckles whiten on the locket's chain.
They finished their breakfast in silence. Hermione set off imme-diately for Ancient Runes; Ron for the common room, where he still had to finish his conclusion on Snape's dementor essay, and Harry for the corridor on the seventh floor and the stretch of wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls to do ballet.,
Harry did not answer for a moment. Then, slowly but surely, an exhilarating sense of infinite opportunity stole through him; he felt as though he could have done anything, anything at all... and getting the memory from Slughorn seemed suddenly not only pos-sible, but positively easy. . . .。