"J .K. Rowling - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rowling J. K)

"Narcissa!"
But Narcissa had rushed ahead. Rubbing her hand, her pursuer followed again,
keeping her distance now, as they moved deeper into the deserted labyrinth of
brick houses. At last, Narcissa hurried up a street named Spinner's End, over

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which the towering mill chimney seemed to hover like a giant admonitory fin-
ger. Her footsteps echoed on the cobbles as she passed boarded and broken
windows, until she reached the very last house, where a dim light glimmered
through the curtains in a downstairs room.
She had knocked on the door before Bella, cursing under her breath, had
caught up. Together they stood waiting, panting slightly, breathing in the smell
of the dirty river that was carried to them on the night breeze. After a few sec-
onds, they heard movement behind the door and it opened a crack. A sliver of
a man could be seen looking out at them, a man with long black hair parted in
curtains around a sallow face and black eyes.
Narcissa threw back her hood. She was so pale that she seemed to shine in the
darkness; the long blonde hair streaming down her back gave her the look of a
drowned person.
"Narcissa!" said the man, opening the door a little wider, so that the light fell
upon her and her sister too. "What a pleasant surprise!
"Severus," she said in a strained whisper. "May I speak to you? It's urgent."
"But of course."
He stood back to allow her to pass him into the house. Her still-hooded sister
followed without invitation.
"Snape," she said curtly as she passed him.
"Bellatrix," he replied, his thin mouth curling into a slightly mocking smile as he
closed the door with a snap behind them.
They had stepped directly into a tiny sitting room, which had the feeling of a
dark, padded cell. The walls were completely covered in books, most of them
bound in old black or brown leather; a threadbare sofa, an old armchair, and a
rickety table stood grouped together in a pool of dim light cast by a candle-
filled lamp hung from the ceiling. The place had an air of neglect, as though it
was not usually inhabited.
Snape gestured Narcissa to the sofa. She threw off her cloak, cast it aside, and
sat down, staring at her white and trembling hands clasped in her lap. Bellatrix
lowered her hood more slowly. Dark as her sister was fair, with heavily lidded
eyes and a strong jaw, she did not take her gaze from Snape as she moved to
stand behind Narcissa.
"So, what can I do for you?" Snape asked, settling himself in the armchair op-
posite the two sisters.
"We... we are alone, aren't we?" Narcissa asked quietly.
'Yes, of course. Well, Wormtail's here, but we're not counting vermin, are we?"
He pointed his wand at the wall of books behind him and with a bang, a hidden
door flew open, revealing a narrow staircase upon which a small man stood
frozen.
"As you have clearly realized, Wormtail, we have guests," said Snape lazily.
The man crept, hunchbacked, down the last few steps and moved into the
room. He had small, watery eyes, a pointed nose, and wore an unpleasant sim-
per. His left hand was caressing his right, which looked as though it was en-