时间：02-21 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：5016
"What?" said Ron loudly, looking around into the pitch-dark, and gripping Harry's elbow very hard.
But Harry wasn't looking at Hermione's face. He was more interested in her right hand. It lay clenched on top of her blankets, and bending closer, he saw that a piece of paper was scrunched inside her fist.
"Professor, we've got some information for you," said Harry. "We think it'll help you."
"Me too," said Ron.
Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Harry's heart gave a leap. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.
"Harry!" Ron shouted, his voice breaking with relief "Harry, it's our car!"
Ron gave a loud snort. Evidently, hatching Aragog in a cupboard wasn't his idea of being innocent.
"How come you've got a sword?" said Ron, gaping at the glittering weapon in Harry's hand.
Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel -- Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.
Harry went to get the Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk right after dinner, and spent the evening sitting on it, waiting for the room to clear. Fred and George challenged Harry and Ron to a few games of Exploding Snap, and Ginny sat watching them, very subdued in Hermione's usual chair. Harry and Ron kept losing on purpose, trying to finish the games quickly, but even so, it was well past midnight when Fred, George, and Ginny finally went to bed.
"Master has given a sock," said the elf in wonderment. "Master gave it to Dobby."
Dumbledore had not taken his bright blue eyes off Lucius Malfoy's cold gray ones.
"We must be miles under the school," said Harry, his voice echoing in the black tunnel.
"Dear, dear, you know, that temper of yours will lead you into trouble one of these days, Hagrid," said Mr. Malfoy. "I would advise you not to shout at the Azkaban guards like that. They won't like it at all."
"I seem to remember telling you both that I would have to expel you if you broke any more school rules, said Dumbledore.
"Up!" she screeched. Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. He had a funny feeling he'd had the same dream before.,