时间：02-23 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：3938
"I never touched Mrs. Norris!" Harry said loudly, uncomfortably aware of everyone looking at him, including all the Lockharts on the walls. "And I don't even know what a Squib is."
Harry opened his mouth to say he was sure they'd be able to mend it up at the school, but he never even got started. At that very moment, something hit his side of the car with the force of a
"Uh-oh," said Ron, into the silence.
There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy.
Harry was staring at him, alarmed; Filch had never looked madder. His eyes were popping, a tic was going in one of his pouchy cheeks, and the tartan scarf didn't help.
"Now, listen here, you lot," he said, glowering at them all. "We should have won the Quidditch cup last year. We're easily the best team. But unfortunately -owing to circumstances beyond our control - "
Harry was relieved to hear the lunch bell. His brain felt like a wrung sponge. Everyone fiIed out of the classroom except him and Ron, who was whacking his wand furiously on the desk.
"I'll make it," Lockhart butted in. "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep -"
Ron put his foot on the accelerator and drove them upward again, but as he did so, the engine began to whine.
"I wish there was something I could do for you about the Headless Hunt,"
On the other side of the dungeon was a long table, also covered in black velvet. They approached it eagerly but next moment had stopped in their tracks, horrified. The smell was quite disgusting. Large, rotten fish were laid on handsome silver platters; cakes, burned charcoal-black, were heaped on salvers; there was a great maggoty haggis, a slab of cheese covered in furry green mold and, in pride of place, an enormous gray cake in the shape of a tombstone, with tar-like icing forming the words, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington died 31st October, 1492 Harry watched, amazed, as a portly ghost approached the table, crouched low, and walked through it, his mouth held wide so that it passed through one of the stinking salmon.
The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they
She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.
"Go away," Percy snapped. "'Course, he's very ambitious, Percy, he's got it all planned out .... He wants to be Minister of Magic. . . " Ron told Harry and Hermione in an undertone as they left Percy to it. An hour later, they headed for Flourish and Blotts. They were by no means the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As they approached it, they saw to their surprise a large crowd jostling out side the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed。