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澳门手机棋牌游戏大厅

时间:2020 01-26 作者:gdshyfa 浏览量:56864

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'We're not stupid, you know,' said Uncle Vernon.

张庆鹏:援疆使命结束,感恩辽宁

'Expecto patronum!'

'Listening to the news,' said Harry in a resigned voice.

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'Listening to the news! Again?'

But Harry was already ripping open the envelope and pulling out the letter inside, his heart pounding somewhere in the region of his Adam's apple.

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Harry's foot was on the bottom-most stair when Dudley found his voice.

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Dudley said nothing. The effort of keeping himself from hitting Harry seemed to demand all his self-control.

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If Dudley's friends saw him sitting here, they would be sure to make a beeline for him, and what would Dudley do then? He wouldn't want to lose face in front of the gang, but he'd be terrified of provoking Harry . . . it would be really fun to watch Dudley's dilemma, to taunt him, watch him, with him powerless to respond . . . and if any of the others tried hitting Harry, he was ready - he had his wand. Let them try . . . he'd love to vent some of his frustration on the boys who had once made his life hell.

'He left!' said Mrs Figg, wringing her hands. 'Left to see someone about a batch of cauldrons that fell off the back of a broom! I told him I'd flay him alive if he went, and now look! Dementors! It's just lucky I put Mr Tibbles on the case! But we haven't got time to stand around! Hurry, now, we've got to get you back! Oh, the trouble this is going to cause! I will kill him!'

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Harry pulled out his wand. He saw Dudley look sideways at it.

'He was sixteen, for your information,' snarled Dudley, 'and he was out cold for twenty minutes after I'd finished with him and he was twice as heavy as you. You just wait till I tell Dad you had that thing out -

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He kept listening, just in case there was some small clue, not recognised for what it really was by the Muggles - an unexplained disappearance, perhaps, or some strange accident . . . but the baggage-handlers' strike was followed by news about the drought in the Southeast ('I hope he's listening next door!' bellowed Uncle Vernon. 'Him with his sprinklers on at three in the morning!'), then a helicopter that had almost crashed in a field in Surrey, then a famous actress's divorce from her famous husband ('As if we're interested in their sordid affairs,' sniffed Aunt Petunia, who had followed the case obsessively in every magazine she could lay her bony hands on).

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'. . . squealed like a pig, didn't he?' Malcolm was saying, to guffaws from the others.

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He was a skinny, black-haired, bespectacled boy who had the pinched, slightly unhealthy look of someone who has grown a lot in a short space of time. His jeans were torn and dirty, his T-shirt baggy and faded, and the soles of his trainers were peeling away from the uppers. Harry Potters appearance did not endear him to the neighbours, who were the sort of people who thought scruffiness ought to be punishable by law, but as he had hidden himself behind a large hydrangea bush this evening he was quite invisible to passers-by. In fact, the only way he would be spotted was if his Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia stuck their heads out of the living-room window and looked straight down into the flowerbed below.,

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But there was no happiness in him . . . the Dementor's icy fingers were closing on his throat - the high-patched laughter was growing louder and louder, and a voice spoke inside his head: 'Bow to death, Harry . . . it might even be painless . . . I would not know . . . I have never died;

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