时间：02-25 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：7381
Slughorn seemed agitated. He twiddled his fat thumbs and fidgeted as he watched Dumbledore fasten his traveling cloak, and Harry zip up his jacket.
"Now, about Herbert Chorley, your Junior Minister," he continued. "The one who has been entertaining the public by impersonating a duck."
Smiling serenely, Hermione placed the beetle back inside her schoolbag.
about what might be coming until they knew anything for certain. The only time they touched upon the subject was when Ron told Harry about a meeting Mrs. Weasley had had with Dumbledore before going home.
Dumbledore moved carefully into the middle of the room, scrutinizing the wreckage at his feet. Harry followed, gazing around, half-scared of what he might see hidden behind the wreck of the piano or the overturned sofa, but there was no sign of a body.
They had stepped directly into a tiny sitting room, which had the feeling of a dark, padded cell. The walls were completely covered in books, most of them bound in old black or brown leather; a threadbare sofa, an old armchair, and a rickety table stood grouped together in a pool of dim light cast by a candle-filled lamp hung from the ceiling. The place had an air of neglect, as though it was not usually inhabited.
"That's never - you're kidding -" Ron whispered, lifting the jar to his eyes.
"Now see here, Fudge--you've got to do something! It's your responsibility as Minister of Magic!"
"No, no, I need to get going," said Tonks, not meeting Dumbledore's eyes. " 'Night ?quot;
"I reckon the staff are safer than most people while Dumbledore's headmaster; he's supposed to be the only one Voldemort ever feared, isn't he?" Harry went on.
"I suppose we can have a drink, at least?" asked Dumbledore. "For old time's sake?"
A vivid image of the shrieking, spitting portrait of Sirius's mother that hung in the hall of number twelve, Grimmauld Place flashed into Harry's mind. "I bet there has," he said.
"You all righ'?" he said gruffly "Yeah," said Harry.
Harry followed his gaze up the carefully tended front path and felt his heart sink. The front door was hanging off its hinges.
"If I had murdered Harry Potter, the Dark Lord could not have used his blood to regenerate, making him invincible —"
"I was Head of Slytherin," said Slughorn. "Oh, now," he went on quickly, seeing the expression on Harry's face and wagging a stubby ringer at him, "don't go holding that against me! You'll be Gryffindor like her, I suppose? Yes, it usually goes in families. Not always, though. Ever heard of Sirius Black? You must have done — been in the papers for the last couple of years — died a few weeks ago —"。