时间：2020 01-29 作者：adhlfzn 浏览量：60562
'Did I say that?' said Phineas Nigellus, idly examining his silk gloves. 'Now, if you will excuse me, I have better things to do than listen to adolescent agonising . . . good-day to you.'
'Arthur!' Mrs Weasley warned him.
applied charms, etc.
'I don't know what would have happened if it hadn't been for you, Harry' she said in a muffled voice. 'They might not have found Arthur for hours, and then it would have been too late, but thanks to you he's alive and Dumbledore's been able to think up a good cover story for Arthur being where he was, you've no idea what trouble he would have been in otherwise, look at poor Sturgis . . .'
'He's going to be all right,' she said, her voice weak with tiredness. 'He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now; he's going to take the morning off work.'
'We don't care about the dumb Order!' shouted Fred.
'I know it's hard, but we've all got to act as though we don't know anything yet. We've got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?'
'I thought,' said Phineas Nigellus, stroking his pointed beard, 'that to belong in Gryffindor house you were supposed to be brave? It looks to me as though you would have been better off in my own house. We Slytherins are brave, yes, but not stupid. For instance, given the choice, we will always choose to save our own necks.'
'Looking for these?' said George, holding out what looked like a tangle of flesh-coloured string.
Dumbledore replaced the instrument on its spindly little table. Harry saw many of the old headmasters in the portraits follow him with their eyes, then, realising that Harry was watching them, hastily pretend to be sleeping again. Harry wanted to ask what the strange silver instrument was for, but before he could do so, there was a shout from the top of the wall to their right; the wizard called Everard had reappeared in his portrait., panting slightly.
Here, he began to pace up and down, past the two beds and Phineas Nigellus's empty picture frame, his brain teeming and seething with questions and ever more dreadful ideas.
The ward was small and rather dingy, as the only window was narrow and set high in the wall facing the door. Most of the light came from more shining crystal bubbles clustered in the middle of the ceiling. The walls were of panelled oak and there was a portrait of a rather vicious-looking wizard on the wall, captioned: Urquhart Rackharrow, 1612-1697, Inventor of the Entrail-expelling Curse.;
'So that's it, is it?' he said loudly. ' "Stay where you are"? That's all anyone could tell me after I got attacked by those Dementors, loo! Just stay put while the grown-ups sort it out, Harry! We won't bother telling you anything, though, because your tiny little brain might not be able to cope with it!'。