时间：02-26 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：8813
"Where is she?" asked Harry, grabbing the tape measure and unrolling his own homework.
"My cat has been Petrified!" he shrieked, his eyes popping. "I want to see some punishment!"
"Can I have that?" interrupted Draco, pointing at the withered hand on its cushion.
Her words were cut short, however, as the portrait of the fat lady swung open and there was a sudden storm of clapping. It looked as though the whole of Gryffindor House was still awake, packed into the circular common room, standing on the lopsided tables and squashy armchairs, waiting for them to arrive. Arms reached through the portrait hole to pull Harry and Ron inside, leaving Hermione to scramble in after then-t.
The tip of Dumbledore's long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs. Norris's fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression: It was as though he was trying hard not to smile. And Lockhart was hovering around all of them, making suggestions.
"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," retorted Malfoy. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."
"Pudding might not be finished yet," said Ron hopefully, leading the way toward the steps to the entrance hall.
There was a thick tartan scarf bound around his head, and his nose was unusually purple.
"Follow me," said Snape.
"You!"he screeched. "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll -"
"What's that thing - hanging underneath?" said Ron, a slight quiver in his voice.
The assistant looked as though he wanted to stop them leaving, but he barely came up to Hagrid's waist and seemed to think better of it. They hurried up the street, the Grangers shaking with fright and Mrs. Weasley beside herself with fury.
A glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a bloodstained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks stared down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lay upon the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. Even worse, the dark, narrow street Harry could see through the dusty shop window was definitely not Diagon Alley.