时间：02-22 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：7387
Without warning, twelve-foot wings flapped open on either side of Harry, he just had time to seize the hippogriff around the neck before he was soaring upward. It was nothing like a broomstick, and Harry knew which one he preferred; the hippogriff's wings beat uncomfortably on either side of him, catching him under his legs and making him feel he was about to be thrown off; the glossy feathers slipped under his fingers and he didn't dare get a stronger grip; instead of the smooth action of his Nimbus Two Thousand, he now felt himself rocking backward and forward as the hindquarters of the hippogriff rose and fell with its wings.
"Don't you know, Potter?" breathed Malfoy, his pate eyes narrowed.
And he ran, clanking loudly, into the left side of the frame and out of sight.
"I'm not delicate!" said Harry crossly.
There was another tinkle of breaking china; Neville had smashed his second cup. Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed.
New students at Hogwarts were sorted into Houses by trying on the sorting Hat, which shouted out the House they were best suited to (Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin). Professor McGonagall strode off toward her empty seat at the staff table, and Harry and Hermione set off in the other direction, as quietly as possible, toward the Gryffindor table. People looked around at them as they passed along the back of the hall, and a few of them pointed at Harry. Had the story of his collapsing in front of the dementor traveled that fast?
Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room one evening after training, cold and stiff but pleased with the way practice had gone, to find the room buzzing excitedly.
"Are you okay?" Ron asked nervously.
"Perhaps a pot of tea," said Fudge, who still hadn't let go of Harry.
They found Mr. Weasley sitting in the bar, reading the Daily prophet.
"Where is she?"
"Don't mind Hermione, Lavender," said Ron loudly, "she doesn't think other people's pets matter very much."
"Sit down, Harry," said Fudge, indicating a chair by the fire.
"I wonder, dear," she said to Lavender Brown, who was nearest and shrank back in her chair, "if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?"
"Ah," he said. "No, no, I'm very sorry, Harry, but as I'm not your parent or guardian --"
"Molly, how many times do I have to tell you? They didn't report it in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet, but Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards told Fudge that Blacks been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same words: 'He's at Hogwarts... he's at Hogwarts.' Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants Harry dead. If you ask me, he thinks murdering Harry will bring You-Know-Who back to pow er. Black lost everything the night Harry stopped You- Know-Who, and he's had twelve years alone in Azkaban to brood on that....",