时间：2020 01-27 作者：qswjidi 浏览量：18660
'Minerva, I need you to go and wake the other Weasley children.'
'Hello,' she said, 'my husband, Arthur Weasley, was supposed to be moved to a different ward this morning, could you tell us - ?'
'. . . three.'
'So where were you when it happened, Dad?' asked George.
'No,' said Dumbledore, 'Floo powder is not safe at the moment, the Network is being watched. You will be taking a Portkey.' He indicated the old kettle lying innocently on his desk. "We are just waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report back . . . I want to be sure that the coast is clear before sending you - '
Dumbledore now swooped down upon one of the fragile silver instruments whose function Harry had never known, carried it over to his desk, sat down facing them again and tapped it gently with the tip of his wand.
'Course we can go to St Mungo's if we want,' said Fred, with a mulish expression. 'He's our dad!'
He looked around. Phineas Nigellus had appeared on the canvas of his portrait and was leaning against the frame, watching Harry with an amused expression on his face.
'I reckon he sent it as a lookout,' growled Moody, "cause he's not had any luck so far, has he? No, I reckon he's trying to get a clearer picture of what he's facing and if Arthur hadn't been there the beast would've had a lot more time to look around. So, Potter says he saw it all happen?'
'It wasn't that,' said Harry, shaking his head, 'it was like something rose up inside me, like there's a snake inside me.'
We've got to go to St Mungos, said Ginny urgently, She looked around at her brothers; they were of course still in their pyjamas. 'Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything?'
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.;
Harry was only drinking to have something to do with his hands. His stomach was full of horrible hot, bubbling guilt. They would not be here if it were not for him; they would all still be asleep in bed. And it was no good telling himself that by raising the alarm he had ensured that Mr Weasley was found, because there was also the inescapable business of it being he who had attacked Mr Weasley in the first place.。
'Well, I start bleeding like mad every time they try,' said Mr Weasley cheerfully, reaching across for his wand, which lay on his bedside cabinet, and waving it so that six extra chairs appeared at his bedside to seat them all. 'It seems there was some rather unusual kind of poison in that snakes fangs that keeps wounds open. They're sure they'll find an antidote, though; they say they've had much worse cases than mine, and in the meantime I just have to keep taking a Blood-Replenishing Potion every hour. But that fellow over there,' he said, dropping his voice and nodding towards the bed opposite in which a man lay looking green and sickly and staring at the ceiling. 'Bitten by a werewolf, poor chap. No cure at all.'。