时间：02-19 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：8742
"I always stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays," he said, "and I don't ever want to go back to Privet Drive."
"There's something moving out there," Ron said. "I think people are coming aboard...."
"Ah," he said. "No, no, I'm very sorry, Harry, but as I'm not your parent or guardian --"
He emerged into the strangest-looking classroom he had ever seen. In fact, it didn't look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone's attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. At leasttwenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. it was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle. The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups.
"Hedwig!" Harry gasped.
"A dementor," said Lupin, who was now giving chocolate to everyone else. "One of the dementors of Azkaban."
A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of it.
"They wouldn't fire him, would they?" said Hermione anxiously, not touching her steak-and- kidney pudding.
Everybody's heads turned toward Harry again, but nobody spoke. Then Hermione raised her hand.
"I think so," said Neville tremulously.
Mr. Weasley, who worked at the Ministry of Magic, would of course have heard the whole story of what had happened to Aunt Marge.
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle weren't listening; they were talking in an undertone and Harry had a nasty feeling they were plotting how best to disrupt the lesson.
"He's making it up," said Ron savagely. "He's trying to make you do something stupid...."
"This is our last chance -- my last chance -- to win the Quidditch Cup," he told them, striding up and down in front of them. "I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it."
A few curious looks were exchanged as the class put away their books. They had never had a practical Defense Against the Dark Arts before, unless you counted the memorable class last year when their old teacher had brought a cageful of pixies -to class and set them loose.