时间：02-19 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：2210
"Good evening, Tom," said Dumbledore easily. "Won't you sit down?"
"No, no, when he heard what I was doing he said he'd like to come and pay his last respects to Aragog too," said Harry.
"You call it 'greatness,' what you have been doing, do you?" asked Dumbledore delicately.
Hagrid nodded and moved forward. He heaved the gigantic spi-der into his arms and, with an enormous grunt, rolled it into the dark pit. It hit the bottom with a rather horrible, crunchy thud. Hagrid started to cry again.
Harry blinked and looked around. Of course: He was in the hospital wing. The sky outside was indigo streaked with crimson. The match must have finished hours ago ... as had any hope of cornering Malfoy. Harry's head felt strangely heavy; he raised a hand and felt a stiff turban of bandages.
"Yeah," said Harry, twisting Kreacher's wizened arm into a half nelson. "Right — I'm forbidding you to fight each other! Well, Kreacher, you're forbidden to fight Dobby. Dobby, I know I'm not allowed to give you orders —"
"Don — don matter . . . Hed've bin touched yeh're here, though, Harry. . . ."
"I am glad you approve," said Dumbledore, smiling. "May I offer you a drink?"
he found it - the shrivelled kidney-like stone Slughorn had taken from him in Potions.
"Okay then," said Harry, and he and Ron both released the elves, who fell to the floor but did not continue fighting.
"So this is the reason I am to be thrown unceremoniously from your office, Dumbledore!"
Harry retold the story he had already recounted, it felt like a hundred times to Dumbledore, to McGonagall, to Madam Pomfrey, to Hermione, and to Ginny.
Aragog died last night. Harry and Ron, you met him and you know how special he was.
'What - but -' spluttered Slughorn.
Harry spun around in midair. Sure enough, McLaggen, for reasons best known to himself, had pulled Peakes's bat from him and appeared to be demonstrating how to hit a Bludger toward an oncoming Cadwallader.
Harry stared down at the commentator's podium. Surely nobody in their right mind would have let Luna Lovegood commentate? But even from above there was no mistaking that long, dirty-blonde hair, nor the necklace of butterbeer corks. . . . Beside Luna, Professor McGonagall was looking slightly uncomfortable, as though she was indeed having second thoughts about this appointment.