"J. K. Rowling - Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rowling J. K)

tea whenever she met him in the street. She had rounded the corner and vanished from
view before Uncle Vernon's voice floated out of the window again.

'Dudders out for tea?'

'At the Polkisses',' said Aunt Petunia fondly. 'He's got so many little friends, he's so
popular

Harry suppressed a snort with difficulty. The Dursleys really were astonishingly stupid
about their son, Dudley. They had swallowed all his dim-witted lies about having tea with
a different member of his gang every night of the summer holidays. Harry knew perfectly
well that Dudley had not been to tea anywhere; he and his gang spent every evening
vandalising the play park, smoking on street corners and throwing stones at passing cars
and children. Harry had seen them at it during his evening walks around Little Whinging;
he had spent most of the holidays wandering the streets, scavenging newspapers from
bins along the way.

The opening notes of the music that heralded the seven o'clock news reached Harry's ears
and his stomach turned over. Perhaps tonight - after a month of waiting - would be the
night.

'Record numbers of stranded holiday makers fill airports as the Spanish baggage-
handlers' strike reaches its second week -

'Give 'em a lifelong siesta, I would,' snarled Uncle Vernon over the end of the
newsreader's sentence, but no matter: outside in the flowerbed, Harrys stomach seemed to
unclench. If anything had happened, it would surely have been the first item on the news;
death and destruction were more important than stranded holidaymakers.

He let out a long, slow breath and stared up at the brilliant blue sky. Every day this
summer had been the same: the tension, the expectation, the temporary relief, and then
mounting tension againтАж and always, growing more insistent all the time, the question
of why nothing had happened yet.

He kept listening, just in case there was some small clue, not recognised for what it really
was by the Muggles - an unexplained disappearance, perhaps, or some strange accidentтАж
but the baggage-handlers' strike was followed by news about the drought in the Southeast
('I hope he's listening next door!' bellowed Uncle Vernon. 'Him with his sprinklers on at
three in the morning!'), then a helicopter that had almost crashed in a field in Surrey, then
a famous actress's divorce from her famous husband ('As if we're interested in their
sordid affairs,' sniffed Aunt Petunia, who had followed the case obsessively in every
magazine she could lay her bony hands on).
Harry closed his eyes against the now blazing evening sky as the newsreader said, '- and
finally, Bungy the budgie has found a novel way of keeping cool this summer. Bungy, who
lives at the Five Feathers in Barnsley, has learned to water ski! Mary Dorkins went to
find out more.'

Harry opened his eyes. If they had reached water-skiing budgerigars, there would be
nothing else worth hearing. He rolled cautiously on to his front and raised himself on to
his knees and elbows, preparing to crawl out from under the window.