时间：02-21 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：7291
"What are these fascinating creatures called?" she asked, beaming still more widely.
Harry barely slept that night. When he awoke on Monday morning, he seriously considered for the first time ever just running away from Hogwarts. But as he looked around the Great Hall at breakfast time, and thought about what leaving the castle would mean, he knew he couldn't do it. It was the only place he had ever been happy. . . well, he supposed he must have been happy with his parents too, but he couldn't remember that.
"Yeah, that's right!" Harry found himself shouting as he wheeled around in the corridor, having had just about enough. "I've just been crying my eyes out over my dead mum, and I'm just off to do a bit more. . .
"Go!" he hissed at Sirius. " Go! There's someone coming!"
Hermione joined him a moment later and slipped him a butterbeer under his cloak.
The same process started again. . . ."Oh I'm not sure that was wise!" they could hear Bagman shouting gleefully. "Oh. . . nearly! Careful now. . . good lord, I thought she'd had it then!"
He stood up, noticing dimly that his legs seemed to be made of marshmallow. He waited.
"Caught on, have you?" said Harry coldly. "Took you long enough."
"You what?' said Harry.
"You just need a bit of practice," Harry said.
Fleur Delacour was sitting in a corner on a how wooden stool. She didn't look nearly as composed as usual, but rather pale and clammy. Viktor Krum looked even surlier than usual, which Harry supposed was his way of showing nerves. Cedric was pacing up and down. When Harry entered, Cedric gave him a small smile, which Harry returned, feeling the muscles in his face working rather hard, as though they had forgotten how to do it.
"Oh okay," he said, "no problem."
The same held true for Krum. He pulled out the scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had a number three around its neck. He didn't even blink, just sat back down and stared at the ground.
Ron goggled at Harry.
They were probably running around in masks together at the World Cup.... I'll tell you one thing, though, Harry, if it was Karkaroff who put your name in the goblet, he's going to be feeling really stupid now, isn't he? Didn't work, did it? You only got a scratch!
Ron's tiny owl was twittering madly on the top of the icicle-laden banisters, a scroll of parchment tied to his leg. People passing him were pointing and laughing, and a group of third-year girls paused and said, "Oh look at the weeny owl! Isn't he cute?"