时间：02-23 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：3013
"What's all that, Hermione?" Harry asked, pointing at not one but three bulging bags in the chair next to her.
He gave the sword another fruitless tug, tried and failed to mount the fat pony, gave up, and cried, "On foot then, good sirs and gentle lady! On! On!"
"Thanks," Harry said to Ern.
But then, to Harry's enormous surprise, the hippogriff suddenly bent its scaly front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.
"We should've known!" Ron roared, pounding the table. "Who else would have assigned us a biting book?"
"Harry! Harry! Hi, Harry!"
"No one knows how he got out of Azkaban," said Ron uncomfortably. "No one's ever done it before. And he was a top-security prisoner too."
"A big red one," said Neville.
"Quiet!" said a hoarse voice suddenly.
"Ron," hissed Hermione, pointing at Professor Lupin, "be careful..."
Mr. Weasley strolled toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten, pushing Harry's trolley and apparently very interested in the InterCity 125 that had just arrived at platform nine. With a meaningful look at Harry, he leaned casually against the barrier. Harry imitated him.
"Hm," said the witch, picking up Scabbers. "How old is this rat?"
He paused, and Harry remembered what Mr. Weasley had said about Dumbledore not being happy with the dementors guarding the school.
"Harry," he said, in a low, serious voice, "You haven't seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"
Harry was pleased to get out of the castle after lunch. Yesterday's rain had cleared; the sky was a clear, pale gray, and the grass was springy and damp underfoot as they set off for their first ever Care of Magical Creatures class.
"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," said Professor Lupin. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks -- I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice.
Without warning, twelve-foot wings flapped open on either side of Harry, he just had time to seize the hippogriff around the neck before he was soaring upward. It was nothing like a broomstick, and Harry knew which one he preferred; the hippogriff's wings beat uncomfortably on either side of him, catching him under his legs and making him feel he was about to be thrown off; the glossy feathers slipped under his fingers and he didn't dare get a stronger grip; instead of the smooth action of his Nimbus Two Thousand, he now felt himself rocking backward and forward as the hindquarters of the hippogriff rose and fell with its wings.