时间：02-19 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：9534
"Uh-oh," said Ron, jabbing at the Invisibility Booster. "It's faulty -"
"Look this way, Harry! This way!" he cried shrilly.
in Muggle shops. He had never mentioned his Gringotts bank account to the Dursleys; he didn't think their horror of anything connected with magic would stretch to a large pile of gold.
"WATCH OUT FOR THAT TREE!" Harry bellowed, lunging for the steering wheel, but too late.
"We'll go and get our stuff," said Ron in a hopeless sort of voice.
All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words Nimbus Two Thousand and One gleamed under the Gryffindors' noses in the early morning sun.
As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.
"We'd better get him to Hagrid's, it's nearest," said Harry to Hermione, who nodded bravely, and the pair of them pulled Ron up by the arms.
"Well, we haven't been expelled," Harry assured her.
Filch grabbed a quill from a pot on his desk and began shuffling around looking for parchment.
"The same reason everyone else wants it," said Hermione, "to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets."
"Why didn't you send us a letter by owl? I believe you have an owl?" Professor McGonagall said coldly to Harry.
"Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," said Mr. Borgin in a voice as oily as his hair. "Delighted - and young Master Malfoy, too - charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced -"
Back outside on the marble steps, they all separated. Percy muttered vaguely about needing a new quill. Fred and George had spotted their friend from Hogwarts, Lee Jordan. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were going to a secondhand robe shop. Mr. Weasley was insisting on taking the Grangers off to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink.
"What's the good of that if I'm not on the House team?" said Malfoy, looking sulky and bad-tempered. "Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. He's not even that good, it's just because he's famous ... famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead . . . ."。
It was an incredible sight. The dungeon was full of hundreds of pearly-white, translucent people, mostly drifting around a crowded dance floor, waltzing to the dreadful, quavering sound of thirty musical saws, played by an orchestra on a raised, black-draped platform. A chandelier overhead blazed midnight-blue with a thousand more black candles. Their breath rose in a mist before them; it was like stepping into a freezer.？