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

hat in his hand.
"Ah... Prime Minister," said Cornelius Fudge, striding forward with his hand out-
stretched. "Good to see you again."
The Prime Minister could not honestly return this compliment, so said nothing
at all. He was not remotely pleased to see Fudge, whose occasional appear-
ances, apart from being downright alarming in themselves, generally meant
that he was about to hear some very bad news. Furthermore, Fudge was look-
ing distinctly careworn. He was thinner, balder, and grayer, and his face had a
crumpled look. The Prime Minister had seen that kind of look in politicians be-
fore, and it never boded well.
"How can I help you?" he said, shaking Fudge's hand very briefly and gesturing
toward the hardest of the chairs in front of the desk.
"Difficult to know where to begin," muttered Fudge, pulling up the chair, sitting
down, and placing his green bowler upon his knees. "What a week, what a
week..."
"Had a bad one too, have you?" asked the Prime Minister stiffly, hoping to con-
vey by this that he had quite enough on his plate already without any extra
helpings from Fudge.
"Yes, of course," said Fudge, rubbing his eyes wearily and looking morosely at
the Prime Minister. "I've been having the same week you have, Prime Minister.
The Brockdale Bridge... the Bones and Vance murders... not to mention the
ruckus in the West Country..."
"You тАФ er тАФ your тАФ I mean to say, some of your people were тАФ were involved
in those тАФ those things, were they?"


4
Fudge fixed the Prime Minister with a rather stern look. "Of course they were,"
he said, "Surely you've realized what's going on?"
"I..." hesitated the Prime Minister.
It was precisely this sort of behavior that made him dislike Fudge's visits so
much. He was, after all, the Prime Minister and did not appreciate being made
to feel like an ignorant schoolboy. But of course, it had been like this from his
very first meeting with Fudge on his very first evening as Prime Minister. He
remembered it as though it were yesterday and knew it would haunt him until
his dying day.
He had been standing alone in this very office, savoring the triumph that was
his after so many years of dreaming and scheming, when he had heard a cough
behind him, just like tonight, and turned to find that ugly little portrait talking to
him, announcing that the Minister of Magic was about to arrive and introduce
himself
Naturally, he had thought that the long campaign and the strain of the election
had caused him to go mad. He had been utterly terrified to find a portrait talk-
ing to him, though this had been nothing to how he felt when a self-proclaimed
wizard had bounced out of the fireplace and shaken his hand. He had remained
speechless throughout Fudge's kindly explanation that there were witches and
wizards still living in secret all over the world and his reassurances that he was
not to bother his head about them as the Ministry of Magic took responsibility
for the whole Wizarding community and prevented the non-magical population
from getting wind of them. It was, said Fudge, a difficult job that encompassed