时间：02-25 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：3897
"It all depends on the points -- a margin of a hundred either way."
"But you were innocent!" said Hermione.
Harry went down to breakfast the next morning with the rest of the boys in his dormitory, all of whom seemed to think the Firebolt deserved a sort of guard of honor. As Harry entered the Great Hall, heads turned in the direction of the Firebolt, and there was a good deal of excited muttering. Harry saw, with enormous satisfaction, that the Slytherin team were all looking thunderstruck.
"Well -- there might have been!" said Hermione. "I mean, at least you know now that it's safe!"
"Ravenclaw'll have no chance, they're all on Cleansweep Sevens!"
Harry fumbled for his alarm clock and looked at it. It was half past four. Cursing Peeves, he rolled over and tried to get back to sleep, but it was very difficult, now that he was awake, to ignore the sounds of the thunder rumbling overhead, the pounding of the wind against the castle walls, and the distant creaking of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. In a few hours he would be out on the Quidditch field, battling through that gale. Finally, he gave up any thought of more sleep, got up, dressed, picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand, and walked quietly out of the dormitory.
"You said it's harder if there are loads of them," said Harry.
Ron caught up with them five minutes later, in a towering rage.
"I do!" said Harry fiercely, stuffing the rest of the Chocolate Frog into his mouth. "I've got to! What if the dementors turn up at our match against Ravenclaw? I can't afford to fall off again. If we lose this game we've lost the Quidditch Cup!"
"Hear, hear!" squeaked tiny Professor Flitwick, whose feet were dangling a foot from the ground.
"Yeah... anything," said Harry, his heart lighter than it had been in a month. "You know what -- we should make up with Hermione.... She was only trying to help...."
"Right," said George briskly. "Don't forget to wipe it after you've used it or anyone can read it," Fred said warningly.
"A Firebolt? No! Seriously? A -- a real Firebolt?"
"His finest hour," said Fred, unable to keep a straight face. "Let the scar on Goyle's finger stand as a lasting tribute to his memory. Oh, come on, Ron, get yourself down to Hogsmeade and buy a new rat, what's the point of moaning?"
"Well," said Lupin, frowning slightly, "I assumed that if the boggart faced you, it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort."