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It was as though someone had exploded a box of fireworks within the compartment. Blinded by the blaze of the spells that had blasted from every direction, deafened by a series of bangs, Harry blinked and looked down at the floor.
Harry nodded, his eyes fixed resolutely on the spider now climbing Dumbledore's hat. He could tell that Dumbledore understood, that he might even suspect that until his letter arrived, Harry had spent nearly all his time at the Dursleys' lying on his bed, refusing meals, and staring at the misted window, full of the chill emptiness i hat he had come to associate with dementors.
"Then you ought to hold your tongue!" snarled Bellatrix. "Particularly in present company!"
"I... well, as long as Shacklebolt's work continues to be... er... excellent," said the Prime Minister lamely, but Scrimgeour barely seemed to hear him.
about us and Hagrid."
Chapter 3: Will And Won't
He made Mrs. Weasley a bow and followed Tonks, vanishing at precisely the same spot. Mrs. Weasley closed the door on the empty yard and then steered Harry by the shoulders into the full glow of -=-ilu* lantern on the table to examine his appearance.
He came to an abrupt halt at the end of Privet Drive.
"But then," bleated the Prime Minister, "why hasn't a former Prime Minister warned me--?"
"Harry," Fred began, but Harry pulled out his wand.
"He'll never keep Rita quiet," said Harry. "Not on a story like this."
"I can try."
"Well, what, then?" said Ron.
"That can be rearranged," said the portrait at once. The Prime Minister's heart sank. He had been afraid of that.
"In other words, it doesn't matter to him if Draco is killed!"
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.,
The Prime Minister's first, foolish thought was that Rufus Scrimgeour looked rather like an old lion. There were streaks of gray in his mane of tawny hair and his bushy eyebrows; he had keen yellowish eyes behind a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and a certain rangy, loping grace even though he walked with a slight limp. There was an immediate impression of shrewdness and toughness; the Prime Minister thought he understood why the Wizarding community preferred Scrimgeour to Fudge as a leader in these dangerous times.？
"But while I was at the Dursleys' ..." interrupted Harry, his voice growing stronger, "I realized I can’t shut myself away or — or crack up. Sirius wouldn't have wanted that, would he? And anyway, life's too short. . . . Look at Madam Bones, look at Emmeline Vance. ... It could be me next, couldn't it? But if it is," he said fiercely, now looking straight into Dumbledore's blue eyes gleaming in the wandlight, "I'll make sure I take as many Death Eaters with me as I can, and Voldemort too if I can manage it."（央视记者 徐海霞）