"J. K. Rowling - The Goblet of Fire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rowling J. K)

to call on him if ever Harry needed to. Well, he needed to right now, all right...
Harry's lamp seemed to grow dimmer as the cold gray light that precedes sunrise slowly
crept into the room. Finally, when the sun had risen, when his bedroom walls had turned gold, and
when sounds of movement could be heard from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's room, Harry cleared
his desk of crumpled pieces of parchment and reread his finished letter.

Dear Sirius,
Thanks for your last letter. That bird was enormous; it could hardly get through my
window. Things are the same as usual here. Dudley's diet isn't going too well. My aunt found him
smuggling doughnuts into his room yesterday. They told him they'd have to cut his pocket money if
he keeps doing it, so he got really angry and chucked his PlayStation out of the window. That's a
sort of computer thing you can play games on. Bit stupid really, now he hasn't even got Mega-
Mutilation Part Three to take his mind off things.
I'm okay, mainly because the Dursleys are terrified you might turn up and turn them all


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into bats if I ask you to.
A weird thing happened this morning, though. My scar hurt again. Last time that happened
it was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts. But I don't reckon he can be anywhere near me now, can
he? Do you know if curse scars sometimes hurt years afterward?
I'll send this with Hedwig when she gets back; she's off hunting at the moment. Say hello
to Buckbeak for me. Harry

Yes, thought Harry, that looked all right. There was no point putting in the dream; he didn't
want it to look as though he was too worried. He folded up the parchment and laid it aside on his
desk, ready for when Hedwig returned. Then he got to his feet, stretched, and opened his wardrobe
once more. Without glancing at his reflection he started to get dressed before going down to
breakfast.

CHAPTER THREE - THE INVITATION

By the time Harry arrived in the kitchen, the three Dursleys were already seated
around the table. None of them looked up as he entered or sat down. Uncle Vernon's large red
face was hidden behind the morning's Daily Mail, and Aunt Petunia was cutting a grapefruit into
quarters, her lips pursed over her horselike teeth.
Dudley looked furious and sulky, and somehow seemed to be taking up even more space
than usual. This was saying something, as he always took up an entire side of the square table by
himself. When Aunt Petunia put a quarter of unsweetened grapefruit onto Dudley's plate with a
tremulous "There you are, Diddy darling," Dudley glowered at her. His life had taken a most
unpleasant turn since he had come home for the summer with his end-of-year report.
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had managed to find excuses for his bad marks as usual:
Aunt Petunia always insisted that Dudley was a very gifted boy whose teachers didn't understand
him, while Uncle Vernon maintained that "he didn't want some swotty little nancy boy for a son
anyway." They also skated over the accusations of bullying in the report - "He's a boisterous
little boy, but he wouldn't hurt a fly!" Aunt Petunia had said tearfully.
However, at the bottom of the report there were a few well-chosen comments from the school nurse
that not even Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia could explain away. No matter how much Aunt Petunia