'Hey, Potter, how's your scar feeling?' called Malfoy. 'Sure you don't need a lie down? It must be, what, a whole week since you were in the hospital wing, that's a record for you, isn't it?'
Two things sustained Harry that day. One was the thought that it was almost the weekend; the other was that, dreadful though his final detention with Umbridge was sure to be, he had a distant view of the Quidditch pitch from her window and might, with luck, be able to see something of Ron's tryout. These were rather feeble rays of light, it was true, but Harry was grateful for anything that might lighten his present darkness; he had never had a worse first week of term at Hogwarts.
Harry picked up the quill and glanced through the window. If he just shifted his chair an inch or so to the right . . . on the pretext of shifting himself closer to the table, he managed it. He now had a distant view of the Gryffindor Quidditch team soaring up and down the pitch, while half a dozen black figures stood at the foot of the three high goalposts, apparently awaiting their turn to Keep. It was impossible to tell which one was Ron at this distance.
'Well, I reckon you should - ' Ron began, but he was interrupted by the Fat Lady, who had been watching them sleepily and now burst out, 'Are you going to give me the password or will I have to stay awake all night waiting for you to finish your conversation?'
'Oh . . . sorry . . .'
He extended it. She took it in her own. Harry repressed a shudder as she touched him with her thick, stubby fingers on which she wore a number of ugly old rings.
'Look, I don't think you should,' said Hermione seriously. 'You're both really behind on homework as it - '
We're all missing our biggest friend, we hope he'll be back soon.
Ron threw the Quaffle to Alicia, who passed back to Harry, who passed to George . . .
Cho had selected one of the school barn owls. She coaxed it down on to her arm where it held out an obliging leg so that she could attach the parcel.
'Erm . . . Quidditch later,' said Harry happily, pulling a large platter of bacon and eggs towards him.
Harry looked round at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile.
'Yes, it hurts, doesn't it?' she said softly.
'Oh, no,' said Umbridge, smiling so widely that she looked as though she had just swallowed a particularly juicy fly. 'Oh, no, no, no. This is your punishment for spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories, Mr Potter, and punishments certainly cannot be adjusted to suit the guilty one's convenience. No, you will come here at five o'clock tomorrow, and the next day, and on Friday too, and you will do your detentions as planned. I think it rather a good thing that you are missing something you really want to do. It ought to reinforce the lesson I am trying to teach you.'
She handed him a long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point.
'Every evening since Tuesday . . . just on my own, though. I've been trying to bewitch Quaffles to fly at me, but it hasn't been easy and I don't know how much use it'll be.' Ron looked nervous and anxious. 'Fred and George are going to laugh themselves stupid when I turn up for the tryouts. They haven't stopped taking the mickey out of me since I got made a prefect.'
There you are,' he said, spotting her somewhere near the very top of the vaulted ceiling. 'Get down here, I've got a letter for you.'
- 皮克欲护送德赫亚见记者 席尔瓦：又有人要搞事!
'OK, everyone,' said Angelina, entering from the Captain's office, already changed. 'Let's gel to it; Alicia and Fred, if you can jus: bring out the ball crate for us. Oh, and there are a couple of people out there watching but I want you to just ignore them, all right?'