There was laughter inside his own head, shrill, high-pitched laughter . . . he could smell the Dementor's putrid, death-cold breath filling his own lungs, drowning him - think . . . something happy . . .
他的脑海里响起了笑声,尖厉、刺耳的笑声,他已经感到摄魂怪那股
的、死亡般阴冷的气息灌满他的肺部,憋得他喘不过气来—— 想一想,快乐的
情。