Day 425-Harry Potter 425-Book 3-分享朋友圈打卡!!!
Harry lay there, not saying a word. They had lost . . . for the first time ever, he had lost a Quidditch match.
After ten minutes or so, Madam Pomfrey came over to tell the team to leave him in peace.
“We’ll come and see you later,” Fred told him. “Don’t beat yourself up, Harry, you’re still the best Seeker we’ve ever had.”
The team trooped out, trailing mud behind them. Madam Pomfrey shut the door behind them, looking disapproving. Ron and Hermione moved nearer to Harry’s bed.
“Dumbledore was really angry,” Hermione said in a quaking voice. “I’ve never seen him like that before. He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium right away. . . . He was furious they’d come onto the grounds. We heard him —”
“Then he magicked you onto a stretcher,” said Ron. “And walked up to school with you floating on it. Everyone thought you were . . .”
His voice faded, but Harry hardly noticed. He was thinking about what the dementors had done to him . . . about the screaming voice. He looked up and saw Ron and Hermione looking at him so anxiously that he quickly cast around for something matter-of-fact to say.
“Did someone get my Nimbus?”
Ron and Hermione looked quickly at each other.
“Er —”
“What?” said Harry, looking from one to the other.
“Well . . . when you fell off, it got blown away,” said Hermione hesitantly.
“And?”
“And it hit — it hit — oh, Harry — it hit the Whomping Willow.”
Harry’s insides lurched. The Whomping Willow was a very violent tree that stood alone in the middle of the grounds.
“And?” he said, dreading the answer.
“Well, you know the Whomping Willow,” said Ron. “It — it doesn’t like being hit.”
“Professor Flitwick brought it back just before you came around,” said Hermione in a very small voice.
Slowly, she reached down for a bag at her feet, turned it upside down, and tipped a dozen bits of splintered wood and twig onto the bed, the only remains of Harry’s faithful, finally beaten broomstick.
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