时间：02-21 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：6980
"Get out of the way!" he shouted at Ron and Hermione.
"So," he said, straightening up again. "Everyone from the Minister of Magic downward has been trying to keep famous Harry Potter safe from Sirius Black. But famous Harry Potter is a law unto himself Let the ordinary people worry about his safety! Famous Harry Potter goes where he wants to, with no thought for the consequences.
And Crookshanks was thrown to the floor as Black lunged at Scabbers; Ron yelled with pain as Black's weight fell on his broken leg.
Malfoy's head jerked forward as the mud hit him; his silverblond hair was suddenly dripping in muck.
He tried to heave himself up on his good leg, but Lupin raised his wand again, pointing it at Scabbers.
"We -- we've been taking good care of him!" said Ron.
The Gryffindor party ended only when Professor McGonagall turned up in her tartan dressing gown and hair net at one in the morning, to insist that they all go to bed. Harry and Ron climbed the stairs to their dormitory, still discussing the match. At last, exhausted, Harry climbed into bed, twitched the hangings of his four-poster shut to block out a ray of moonlight, lay back, and felt himself almost instantly drifting off to sleep....
Ron clutched Scabbers closer to his chest.
"You fool," said Lupin softly. "Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?"
"What?" snapped Hermione, picking up the exam schedule and examining it. "Yes, of course I have."
"Go quick," he said hoarsely. "Don' listen...."
"No one there..."
"What're you doing?"
"Hagrid, we should've helped as well -- sorry --" Harry began awkwardly.
"He's come to try and kill me again!" Pettigrew squeaked suddenly, pointing at Black, and Harry saw that he used his middle finger, because his index was missing. "He killed Lily and James and now he's going to kill me too.... You've got to help me, Remus...."
Then came Astronomy at midnight, up on the tallest tower; History of Magic on Wednesday morning, in which Harry scribbled everything Florean Fortescue had ever told him about medieval witch-hunts, while wishing he could have had one of Fortescue's choco-nut sundaes with him in the stifling classroom. Wednesday afternoon meant Herbology, in the greenhouses under a baking-hot sun; then back to the common room once more, with sunburnt necks, thinking longingly of this time next day, when it would all be over.。