时间：02-22 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：8497
The match became still faster, but more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers, and were starting to prevent them from using some of their best moves; twice they were forced to scatter, and then, finally, Ivanova managed to break through their ranks; dodge the Keeper, Ryan; and score Bulgaria's first goal.
"Who conjured it?"
"Arthur, you know Mad-Eye," said Mr. Diggory's head, rolling its eyes again. "Someone creeping into his yard in the dead of night? More likely there's a very shell-shocked cat wandering around somewhere, covered in potato peelings. But if the Improper Use of Magic lot get their hands on Mad-Eye, he's had it -- think of his record -- we've got to get him off on a minor charge, something in your department -- what are exploding dustbins worth?"
"Peeves, get down here NOW!" barked Professor McGonagall, straightening her pointed hat
"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament,"
"I've decided there are better ways of making a stand about elf rights,"
"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."
"It's the Dark Mark, Harry!" Hermione moaned, pulling him as hard as she could.
CHAPTER ELEVEN - ABOARD THE HOGWART EXPRESS
"This - cannot - be," he said jerkily. "No -"
Hermione got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out Malfoy's voice.
HAWKSHEAD ATTACKING FORMATION, he read as he watched the three Irish Chasers zoom closely together, Troy in the center, slightly ahead of Mullet and Moran, bearing down upon the Bulgarians. PORSKOFF PLOY flashed up next, as Troy made as though to dart upward with the Quaffle, drawing away the Bulgarian Chaser Ivanova and dropping the Quaffle to Moran.
"Treacle tart, Hermione!" said Ron, deliberately wafting its smell toward her. "Spotted dick, look! Chocolate gateau!"
"I definitely haven't," came Nevihle's gloomy voice from behind Fred and George.
"M-m-master. . ." Winky stammered, looking up at Mr. Crouch, her eyes brimming with tears. "M-m-master, p-p-please. . ."
Rain lashed against the living room window. Hermione was immersed in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, copies of which Mrs. Weasley had bought for her, Harry, and Ron in Diagon Alley. Charlie was darning a fireproof balaclava. Harry was polishing his Firebolt, the broomstick servicing kit Hermione had given him for his thirteenth birthday open at his feet. Fred and George were sitting in a far corner, quills out, talking in whispers, their heads bent over a piece of parchment.（央视记者 徐海霞）