Quand je pense qu'au lycée, je détestais les commentaires de texte !
Je vous préviens, le messages est... un peu long.
J'imagine très bien la chaleur dans les Salles Communes... Et grâce à Pottermore, surtout celle de Poufsouffle. Je m'y vois tellement !
Et ce chapitre m'a rendue encore plus impatiente d'être en décembre.
When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.   
"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.
Mais bien sûr Ron, file un coup de main au demi-géant pour porter un arbre qui fait 20 fois ton poids !
"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"
"Oh, we're not working," Harry told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."
Sale gosse !
Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random.
Typique !
"You, too," said Harry. "Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"   
"What did you expect, turnips?" said Ron, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than Harry's.
Mais Ron !
"I think I know who that one's from," said Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. "My mom. I told her you didn't expect any presents and -- oh, no," he groaned, "she's made you a Weasley sweater."   Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.
"Every year she makes us a sweater," said Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's always maroon."
"That's really nice of her," said Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty.
C'est tellement, tellement gentil de la part de Molly. Cette femme est parfaite, la Maman idéale.
Je tuerais pour qu'elle décide de prendre la peine de me faire un pull.
Et je suis d'accord avec @
Yul, cette famille est incroyablement unie. Harry a eu une veine pas possible de tomber sur eux !
This only left one parcel. Harry picked it up and felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it.   
Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.
"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans he'd gotten from Hermione. "If that's what I think it is -- they're really rare, and really valuable."
"What is it?"
Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.
"It's an invisibility cloak," said Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is -- try it on."
Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell.
"It is! Look down!"
Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely.
En cinquième, ma prof de français, qui était une femme formidable,
nous avait fait faire une dictée sur ce passage en français. C'était juste quelques semaines après qu'elle nous ait conseillé le livre, ce qui avait entrainé une ruée vers le CDI et des petites bagarres pour emprunter les livres... On était pourtant en ZEP, et la plupart des enfants n'étaient pas très portés sur la lecture. Elle insistait pour nous faire comprendre la logique de la langue et
la magie des mots, nous demandait de faire des petits dessins sur les copies qu'on devait lui rendre (mon classeur est génial, je le feuillette toujours) pour qu'on développe toute notre créativité et
était incroyablement attentive à tout le monde (mes dessins ne reflétaient pas mes obsessions, non non ! ). Bref, je l'adorais !
(J'en chouine, haha. Pardon pour le HS)
Et un nouveau point pour la "team Rowling avait tout prévu" :
Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.
(...)
Harry watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided.
He looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air -- she and the others existed only in the mirror.   
She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes -- her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green -- exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry's did.
Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection.
"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?"
Est-ce que vous vous rendez compe qu'à onze ans, il n'avait JAMAIS vu ses parents ?! Non mais... Franchement ? Fuck you, les Dursley, bande de pauvres cons !
Bref, ce passage est terriblement émouvant.
Le bruit dans le couloir lorsque Ron et Harry sont ensemble, ça doit être Dubledore qui a fait exprès de leur faire peur pour arrêter la dispute, non ? Dans sa logique, s'énerver si facilement contre un ami pour des illusions et des désirs, ça doit être insupportable...
Edit : ah non, je suis allée trop vite, c'était cette garce de Mrs Norris.
Et la première discussion Harry/Dumbledore... Elle présage déjà tellement de la suite de leur relation ! Dumbledore assis sur un bureau, puis par terre avec Harry, sa bienveillance, ses traits d'esprit, sa volonté de faire comprendre les choses à Harry, le mystère qui l'entoure...
Et enfin, le très célébre : "
It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that."
Je trouve incroyable de la part de Rowling d'avoir pu écrire quelque chose d'aussi beau et rempli d'amour alors qu'elle allait si mal, à l'époque.
J'arrive décidément pas à comprendre comment on peut ne pas aimer Harry Potter. C'est tellement merveilleux !