"J. K. Rowling - The Prisoner of Azbakan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rowling J. K)

Don't let the Muggles get you down!

Try and come to London,

Ron

P.S. Percy's Head Boy. He got the letter last week.

Harry glanced back at the photograph. Percy, who was in his seventh and
final year at Hogwarts, was looking particularly smug. He had pinned his
Head Boy badge to the fez perched jauntily on top of his neat hair, his
horn-rimmed glasses flashing in the Egyptian sun.

Harry now turned to his present and unwrapped it. Inside was what looked
like a miniature glass spinning top. There was another note from Ron
beneath it.

Harry -- this is a Pocket Sneakoscope. If there's someone untrustworthy
around, it's supposed to light up and spin. Bill says it's rubbish sold
for wizard tourists and isn't reliable, because it kept lighting up at
dinner last night. But he didn't realize Fred and George had put beetles
in his soup.

Bye --

Ron

Harry put the Pocket Sneakoscope on his bedside table, where it stood
quite still, balanced on its point, reflecting the luminous hands of his
clock. He looked at it happily for a few seconds, then picked up the
parcel Hedwig had brought.

Inside this, too, there was a wrapped present, a card, and a letter,
this time from Hermione.

Dear Harry,



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Ron wrote to me and told me about his phone call to your Uncle Vernon. I
do hope you're all right.

I'm on holiday in France at the moment and I didn't know how I was going
to send this to you -- what if they'd opened it at customs? -- but then
Hedwig turned up! I think she wanted to make sure you got something for
your birthday for a change. I bought your present by owl-order; there
was an advertisement in the Daily Prophet (I've been getting it