"J. K. Rowling - 06 Harry Potter and The half blood Prince" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rowling J. K)

'But then,' bleated the Prime Minister, 'why hasn't a former
Prime Minister warned me ?'

At this, Fudge had actually laughed.

'My dear Prime Minister, are you ever going to tell
anybody?'

Still chortling, Fudge had thrown some powder into the
fireplace, stepped into the emerald flames and vanished with a
whooshing sound. The Prime Minister had stood there, quite
motionless, and realised that he would never, as long as he
lived, dare mention this encounter to a living soul, for who in
the wide world would believe him?

The shock had taken a little while to wear off. For a time
he had tried to convince himself that Fudge had indeed been
a hallucination brought on by lack of sleep during his gruelling
election campaign. In a vain attempt to rid himself of all
reminders of this uncomfortable encounter, he had given the
gerbil to his delighted niece and instructed his Private Secretary'
to take down the portrait of the ugly little man who
had announced Fudge's arrival. To the Prime Minister's dismay,
however, the portrait had proved impossible to remove.
When several carpenters, a builder or two, an art historian
and the Chancellor of the Exchequer had all tried unsuccessfully
to prise it from the wall, the Prime Minister had

the other minister

13



abandoned the attempt and simply resolved to hope that the
thing remained motionless and silent for the rest of his term
in office. Occasionally he could have sworn he saw out of the
corner of his eye the occupant of the painting yawning, or
else scratching his nose; even, once or twice, simply walking
out of his frame and leaving nothing but a stretch of muddy-brown
canvas behind. However, he had trained himself not to
look at the picture very much, and always to tell himself
firmly that his eyes were playing tricks on him when anything
like this happened.

Then, three years ago, on a night very like tonight, the
Prime Minister had been alone in his office when the portrait
had once again announced the imminent arrival of Fudge,
who had burst out of the fireplace, sopping wet and in a state
of considerable panic. Before the Prime Minister could ask