První pokus

MacLean, Alistair - When Eight Bells Toll

Philip Calvert stealthily slips aboard the Nantesville. What has happened to the agents he planted on board? A chilly encounter with two broken backed men soon answers that one.

Millions of pounds of gold bullion are being pirated in the Irish Sea. With deadly efficiency. A sixth sense brings Philip Calvert to a bleak, lonely bay in the Western Highlands. But the sleepy atmosphere of Torbay is deceptive. The place is the focal point of many mysterious disappearances. Even the dour, unimaginative Highland Police Sergeant seems to be acting a part. Why?
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Jak se zdařil první pokus?
Které problémy jste objevili?

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1. Připomeňte si děj románu Charlese Dickense Oliver Twist.
fulltext například ZDE
S jakými problémy se můžeme při překladu střetnout?

2. Přelože následující ukázku (pouze části vyznačené tučně):

The schoolroom was a pretty large hall, on the quietest side of the
house, confronted by the stately stare of some half-dozen of the great
urns, and commanding a peep of an old secluded garden belonging to the
Doctor, where the peaches were ripening on the sunny south wall. There
were two great aloes, in tubs, on the turf outside the windows; the
broad hard leaves of which plant (looking as if they were made of
painted tin) have ever since, by association, been symbolical to me
of silence and retirement. About five-and-twenty boys were studiously
engaged at their books when we went in, but they rose to give the Doctor
good morning, and remained standing when they saw Mr. Wickfield and me.

'A new boy, young gentlemen,' said the Doctor; 'Trotwood Copperfield.'

One Adams, who was the head-boy, then stepped out of his place and
welcomed me. He looked like a young clergyman, in his white cravat, but
he was very affable and good-humoured; and he showed me my place, and
presented me to the masters, in a gentlemanly way that would have put me
at my ease, if anything could.

It seemed to me so long, however, since I had been among such boys,
or among any companions of my own age, except Mick Walker and Mealy
Potatoes, that I felt as strange as ever I have done in my life. I was
so conscious of having passed through scenes of which they could have
no knowledge, and of having acquired experiences foreign to my age,
appearance, and condition as one of them, that I half believed it was an
imposture to come there as an ordinary little schoolboy. I had become,
in the Murdstone and Grinby time, however short or long it may have
been, so unused to the sports and games of boys, that I knew I was
awkward and inexperienced in the commonest things belonging to them.
Whatever I had learnt, had so slipped away from me in the sordid cares
of my life from day to night, that now, when I was examined about what
I knew, I knew nothing, and was put into the lowest form of the school.
But, troubled as I was, by my want of boyish skill, and of book-learning
too, I was made infinitely more uncomfortable by the consideration,
that, in what I did know, I was much farther removed from my companions
than in what I did not. My mind ran upon what they would think, if they
knew of my familiar acquaintance with the King's Bench Prison? Was there
anything about me which would reveal my proceedings in connexion with
the Micawber family--all those pawnings, and sellings, and suppers--in
spite of myself? Suppose some of the boys had seen me coming through
Canterbury, wayworn and ragged, and should find me out? What would they
say, who made so light of money, if they could know how I had scraped my
halfpence together, for the purchase of my daily saveloy and beer, or
my slices of pudding? How would it affect them, who were so innocent of
London life, and London streets, to discover how knowing I was (and was
ashamed to be) in some of the meanest phases of both? All this ran in
my head so much, on that first day at Doctor Strong's, that I felt
distrustful of my slightest look and gesture; shrunk within myself
whensoever I was approached by one of my new schoolfellows; and hurried
off the minute school was over, afraid of committing myself in my
response to any friendly notice or advance.

We'll Always Have Paris

Ray Bradbury byl díky Marťanské kronice řazen spíše mezi autory science fiction; méně už byly nás známé jeho povídky. Teprve v poslední době (v rozmezí cca 10 let) u nás vyšla celá řada povídkových sbírek tohoto autora, včetně těch úplně nejnovějších.

1. Použijte uvedené reference a přečtěte si pečlivě nejprve jednu Bradburyho povídku. Pokuste se charakterizovat jeho autorský styl. Své názory vkládejte do komentáře k tomuto blogu.

2. Ve dvojici (můžete samozřejmě pracovat i individuálně, rozhodnutí je na vás) se dohodněte, kterou ze tří nabízených povídek:
The Thing at the Top of the Stairs - horor,
Laffyete, Farewell - válečná,
nebo The Twilight Greens - psychologická
budete společně překládat. Minimální rozsah překladu je 4 normostrany, nemusíte tedy odevzdat celou povídku - vyberte si vždy tu část textu, která je nejdramatičtější.

3. Povídku si nejprve pečlivě přečtěte, pak vytvořte skupiny dvojic, které pracují se stejným textem, a podělte se o první dojmy. Pokuste se identifikovat hlavní překladatelské problémy.

4. Prémiová otázka - proč se jedna Bradburyho sbírka jmenuje právě "We'll Always Have Paris"?

Browse the book "We'll Always Have Paris" online

Šest povídek je k dispozici v capse (omluvte sníženou kvalitu scanu).

Další včetně pokusů o překlad a diskuse najdete ZDE.

Tipy pro překládání:
- absolutní respekt k autorově textu (slovní zásoba i syntax)
- nevysvětlovat nejasné, neinterpretovat
- sledovat prostředky, které evokují emoce, a používat je v přeloženém textu stejnou měrou jako v originále

Vědeckofantastická literatura

...neboli sci-fi má své kořeny už v 19. století u Julese Verna - a je až překvapivé, jak často se technické vize a sny mění v realitu.
Sci-fi dvacátého století utvářela trojice anglosaských autorů: Asimov, Clarke a Bradbury. Každý z nich měl svlj nenapodobitelný styl a preferoval jiný pohled na neznámo vesmíru a lidské budoucnosti; nejtechničtějším typem z nich byl bezesporu A.C.Clarke. Jeho znalosti přírodních věd i smysl pro nadsázku a vědeckou recesi dávaly vzniknout dílům, která se dnes považují za součást klasické literatury. Některé z jeho vizí se změnily v seriózní vědecké projekty, které byly ještě za jeho života realizovány (např. síť komunikačních satelitů, dolární plachetnice, iontový pohon kosmických lodí).
Kniha "A Fall of Moondust" vyšla PŘED prvním přistáním lidí na Měsíci - a přece se i dnes ukazuje, že Clarke, vedený geniální intuicí i hlubokými znalostmi, dokázal naprosto přesně popsat chování vražedného měsíčního prachu.


1. Seznamte se s dějovou osnovou knihy. Originál textu je k dispozici v capse.
2. Přečtěte si zvolna a pečlivě následující ukázku, pokuste se vžít do děje (problém, emoce, řešení...)
3. Přeložte dva úseky textu, tučně vyznačené v následující ukázce. Pečlivě si ověřujte význam slovíček, pátrejte po neologismech i po skutečných technických termínech (těch bude podstatně více!)


"For the benefit of the newcomers," said Lawrence, when the roll call had been completed, "I'll brief you on the situation. Selene is fifteen meters down, on a level keel. She's undamaged, with all her equipment functioning, and the twenty two people inside her are still in good spirits. They have enough oxygen for ninety hours--that's the deadline we have to keep in mind.
"For those of you who don't know what Selene looks like, here's a one-in-twenty scale model." He lifted the model from the table, and turned it slowly in front of the camera. "She's just like a bus, or a small aircraft; the only thing unique is her propulsion system, which employs these wide-bladed, variable-pitch fans.
"Our great problem, of course, is the dust. If you've never seen it, you can't imagine what it's like. Any ideas you may have about sand or other materials on Earth won't apply here; this stuff is more like a liquid. Here's a sample of it."
Lawrence picked up a tall vertical cylinder, the lower third of which was filled with an amorphous gray substance. He tilted it, and the stuff began to flow. It moved more quickly than syrup, more slowly than water, and it took a few seconds for its surface to become horizontal again after it had been disturbed. No one could ever have guessed, by looking at it, that it was not a fluid.
"This cylinder is sealed," explained Lawrence, "with a vacuum inside, so the dust is showing its normal behavior. In air, it's quite different; it's much stickier, and behaves rather like very fine sand or talcum powder. I'd better warn you-- it's impossible to make a synthetic sample that has the properties of the real thing. It takes a few billion years of desiccation to produce the genuine article. If you want to do some experimenting, we'll ship you as much dust as you like; heaven knows, we can spare it.
"A few other points. Selene is three kilometers from the nearest solid land--the Mountains of Inaccessibility. There may be several hundred meters of dust beneath her, though we're not sure of that. Nor can we be quite sure that there will be no more cave-ins, though the geologists think it's very unlikely.
"The only way we can reach the site is by dust-ski. We've two units, and another one is being shipped round from Farside. They can carry or tow up to five tons of equipment; the largest single item we could put on a sledge would be about two tons. So we can't bring any really heavy gear to the site.
"Well, that's the position. We have ninety hours. Any suggestion? I've some ideas of my own, but I'd like to hear yours first."
There was a long silence while the members of the committee, scattered over a volume of space almost four hundred thousand kilometers across, brought their various talents to bear on the problem. Then the Chief Engineer, Farside, spoke from somewhere in the neighborhood of Joliot-Curie.
"It's my hunch that we can't do anything effective in ninety hours; we'll have to build special equipment, and that always takes time. So--we have to get an air line down to Selene. Where's her umbilical connection?"
"Behind the main entrance, at the rear. I don't see how you can get a line there and couple it up, fifteen meters down. Besides, everything will be clogged with dust."
"I've a better idea," someone interjected. "Drive a pipe down through the roof."
"You'll need two pipes," pointed out another speaker. "One to pump in oxygen, the other to suck out the foul air."
"That means using a complete air purifier. And we won't even need it if we can get those people out inside the ninety hours."
"Too big a gamble. Once the air supply is secure, we can take our time, and the ninety-hour deadline won't worry us."
"I accept that point," said Lawrence. "In fact, I've several men working on those lines right now. The next question is: Do we try to raise the cruiser with everyone inside, or do we get the passengers out individually? Remember, there's only one space suit aboard her."
"Could we sink a shaft to the door, and couple it to the air lock?" asked one of the scientists.
"Same problem as with the air hose. Even worse, in fact, since the coupling would be so much bigger."
"What about a cofferdam large enough to go round the whole cruiser? We could sink it round her, then dig out the dust."
"You'd need tons of piles and shorings. And don't forget, the dam would have to be sealed off at the bottom. Otherwise the dust would flow back into it, just as fast as we took it out of the top."
"Can you pump the stuff?" asked someone else.
"Yes, with the right kind of impeller. But you can't suck it, of course. It has to be lifted. A normal pump just cavitates."
"This dust," grumbled the Port Roris Assistant Engineer, "has the worst properties of solids and liquids, with none of their advantages. It won't flow when you want it to; it won't stay put when you want it to."
"Can I make a point?" said Father Ferraro, speaking from Plato. "This word 'dust' is highly misleading. What we have here is a substance that can't exist on Earth, so there's no name for it in our language. The last speaker was quite correct; sometimes you have to think of it as a nonwetting liquid, rather like mercury, but much lighter. At other times, it's a flowing solid, like pitch--except that it moves much more rapidly, of course."
"Any way it can be stabilized?" someone asked.
"I think that's a question for Earth," said Lawrence. "Doctor Evans, would you like to comment?"
Everyone waited for the three seconds, which, as always, seemed very much longer. Then the physicist answered, quite as clearly as if he were in the same room: "I've been wondering about that. There might be organic binders--glue, if you like--that would make it stick together so that it could be handled more easily. Would plain water be any use? Have you tried that?"
"No, but we will," answered Lawrence, scribbling a note.
"Is the stuff magnetic?" asked the Traffic Control Officer.
"That's a good point," said Lawrence. "Is it, Father?"
"Slightly; it contains a fair amount of meteoric iron. But I don't think that helps us at all. A magnetic field would pull out the ferrous material, but it wouldn't affect the dust as a whole."
"Anyway, we'll try." Lawrence made another note. It was his hope--though a faint one-that out of this clash of minds would come some bright idea, some apparently farfetched but fundamentally sound conception that would solve his problem. And it was his, whether he liked it or not. He was responsible, through his various deputies and departments, for every piece of technical equipment on this side of the Moon--especially when something went wrong with it.
"I'm very much afraid," said the Clavius Traffic Control Officer, "that your biggest headache will be logistics. Every piece of equipment has to be ferried out on the skis, and they take at least two hours for the round trip--more, if they're towing a heavy load. Before you even start operating, you'll have to build some kind of working platform--like a raft--that you can leave on the site. It may take a day to get that in position, and much longer to get all your equipment out to it."
"Including temporary living quarters," added someone. "The workmen will have to stay on the site."
"That's straightforward; as soon as we fix a raft, we can inflate an igloo on it."
"Better than that; you won't even need a raft. An igloo will float by itself."
"Getting back to this raft," said Lawrence, "we want strong, collapsible units that can be bolted together on the site. Any ideas?"
"Empty fuel tanks?"
"Too big and fragile. Maybe Tech Stores has something."
So it went on; the brain trust was in session. Lawrence would give it another half-hour, then he would decide on his plan of action.
One could not spend too much time talking, when the minutes were ticking away and many lives were at stake. Yet hasty and ill-conceived schemes were worse than useless, for they would absorb materials and skills that might tilt the balance between failure and success.
At first sight, it seemed such a straightforward job. There was Selene, within a hundred kilometers of a well-equipped base. Her position was known exactly, and she was only fifteen meters down. But that fifteen meters presented Lawrence with some of the most baffling problems of his entire career.
It was a career which, he knew well, might soon terminate abruptly. For it would be very hard to explain his failure if those twenty-two men and women died.

It was a great pity that not a single witness saw Auriga coming down, for it was a glorious sight. A spaceship landing or taking off is one of the most impressive spectacles that Man has yet contrived--excluding some of the more exuberant efforts of the nuclear engineers. And when it occurs on the Moon, in slow motion and uncanny silence, it has a dreamlike quality which no one who has seen it can ever forget.
Captain Anson saw no point in trying any fancy navigation, especially since someone else was paying for the gas. There was nothing in the Master's Handbook about flying a space liner a hundred kilometers--a hundred kilometers, indeed!--though no doubt the mathematicians would be delighted to work out a trajectory, based on the Calculus of Variations, using the very minimum amount of fuel. Anson simply blasted straight up for a thousand kilometers (this qualifying for deep-space rates under Interplanetary Law, though he would tell Spenser about this later) and came down again on a normal vertical approach, with final radar guidance. The ship's computer and the radar monitored each other, and both were monitored by Captain Anson. Any one of the three could have done the job, so it was really quite simple and safe, though it did not look it.
Especially to Maurice Spenser, who began to feel a great longing for the soft green hills of Earth as those desolate peaks clawed up at him. Why had he talked himself into this? Surely there were cheaper ways of committing suicide.
The worst part was the free fall between the successive braking periods. Suppose the rockets failed to fire on command, and the ship continued to plunge Moonward, slowly but inexorably accelerating until it crashed? It was no use pretending that this was a stupid or childish fear, because it had happened more than once.
It was not, however, going to happen to Auriga. The unbearable fury of the braking jets was already splashing over the rocks, blasting skyward the dust and cosmic debris that had not been disturbed in thrice a billion years. For a moment the ship hovered in delicate balance only centimeters off the ground; then, almost reluctantly, the spears of flame that supported her retracted into their scabbards. The widely spaced legs of the undercarriage made contact, their pads tilted according to the contours of the ground, and the whole ship rocked slightly for a second as the shock absorbers neutralized the residual energy of impact.
For the second time inside twenty-four hours, Maurice Spenser had landed on the Moon. That was a claim that very few men could make.

Slovo a hudba

Překládání poezie a písňových textů vyžaduje od překladatele kromě dokonalé znalosti jazyka, jazykového a historického kontextu a reálií také jistý smysl pro rytmus. Záměrně nezmiňuji rým: rýmovačky typu slunce-žblunce (abychom citovali skvělý překlad Neználka) z žádného textu poezii neudělají, a naproti tomu dobrá rytmizace a cit pro slovní a větný přízvuk se velmi často uplatní i při překládání prózy, zejména v přímé řeči.

Úkoly na dnešní hodinu:

1. SOUTĚŽ!
Připravte si tužku a papír.
Kdo dokáže za 5 minut napsat největší počet česky zpívaných písní, které jsou přeložené z angličtiny?
(Muzikál se počítá jako jeden titul.)

2. Dokážete najít v textu přízvučné slabiky? Nejsnazší to bývá u písňových textů - přízvuk textu se obvykle shoduje s přízvukem hudebním.
Zkopírujte si následující text do Wordu a barevně vyznačte přízvučné slabiky.

A
Hoj ty štědrý večere,
ty tajemný svátku,
cože komu dobrého
neseš na památku?

B
Znám křišťálovou studánku
kde nejhlubší je les
tam roste tmavé kapradí
a vůkol rudý vřes.

C
Byl pozdní večer, první máj,
večerní máj byl lásky čas
hrdliččin zval ku lásce hlas
kde borový zaváněl háj.

3. PŘEKLAD
Zvolte si jednu ze tří skladeb:

A The Age of Aquarius (The Hair)
B 500 Miles (Peter, Paul nad Mary)
C Country Roads (John Denver)

Text najdete v odkazu, audio je k dispozici v Capse. Vaším úkolem je napsat písňový text - nemusíte se tedy příliš držet originálu, hlavním kritériem bude to, zda je česká verze zpívatelná, zda zapadá do hudby.

Do říše neomezené fantazie

Lewis Carroll napsal svou Alenku v roce 1871, pro dcerky děkana oxfordské koleje. Jeho hříčka se stala klasickým dílem dětské literatury, překládá a vydává se po celém světě - proč asi?

1. Přečtěte si úryvky z knihy (kompletní text s originálními ilustracemi najdete v Capse) a zkuste na tuto otázku odpovědět. Své názory vkládejte jako obyčejně do komentáře k tomuto blogu.

2. Vaším dnešním úkolem bude přeložit ukázku z kapitoly 7 - A Mad Tea Party. Obrázek se po kliknutí zvětší. Přečtěte si nejprve pozorně celý text.

3. Zajímavé mohou být i překlady studentů loňského ročníku.

Ve světě napětí

Detektivky, thrillery, horory...
Jako by moderní doba žádala stále více krve a násilí. Chceme ho opravdu? Ať už ano či ne, jsme jím obklopeni i ve světě "brožované" literatury.
Knihy Dana Browna jsou podle mého názoru ještě tím lepším z oblasti tajuplných thrillerů. Těžko by snesly srovnání například s Eccovým Jménem růže, nicméně přinášejí dostatek víceméně logického děje a občas i pár zajímavých informací. Jejich obliba je založena kromě jiného na atraktivním prostředí a dobře napsaných akčních scénách. Zkusme si tedy přeložit jednu takovou vypjatou scénu, v níž jde několika lidem o život.

Úkoly
1. Jakými jazykovými prostředky autor urychluje děj, navozuje dojem naléhavosti, napětí? Jsou tyto prostředky specifické pro angličtinu nebo se dají podobně použít i v češtině? Vložte své návrhy do komentáře k tomuto blogu.

2. Vyhledejte si základní informace o autorovi a připomeňte si zápletku knihy (film není přesným převodem děje v knize!)

3. Přeložte úryvek z knihy (viz níže) a hotový překlad vložte do komentáře k tomuto blogu do 14.3.2011.
Originál ve formátu pdf je k nahlédnutí v capse.

4. Prémiová otázka: kdo je to Hassassin? Připojte k překladu webový odkaz, který to vysvětluje.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dan Brown
Angels and Demons
str. 280

Langdon pulled the trigger, and the silencer spat. The bullet exploded through the toe of the Hassassin’s left boot. Instantly Langdon felt the soles of the Hassassin’s boots connect with his chest, driving him back with a crushing kick.

The two men splashed down in a spray of blood and water.

As the icy liquid engulfed Langdon’s body, his first cognition was pain. Survival instinct came next. He realized he was no longer holding his weapon. It had been knocked away. Diving deep, he groped along the slimy bottom. His hand gripped metal. A handful of coins. He dropped them. Opening his eyes, Langdon scanned the glowing basin. The water churned around him like a frigid Jacuzzi.

Despite the instinct to breathe, fear kept him on the bottom. Always moving. He did not know from where the next assault would come. He needed to find the gun! His hands groped desperately in front of him.

You have the advantage, he told himself. You are in your element. Even in a soaked turtleneck Langdon was an agile swimmer. Water is your element.

When Langdon’s fingers found metal a second time, he was certain his luck had changed. The object in his hand was no handful of coins. He gripped it and tried to pull it toward him, but when he did, he found himself gliding through the water. The object was stationary.

Langdon realized even before he coasted over the cardinal’s writhing body that he had grasped part of the metal chain that was weighing the man down. Langdon hovered a moment, immobilized by the sight of the terrified face staring up at him from the floor of the fountain.

Jolted by the life in the man’s eyes, Langdon reached down and grabbed the chains, trying to heave him toward the surface. The body came slowly . . . like an anchor. Langdon pulled harder. When the cardinal’s head broke the surface, the old man gasped a few sucking, desperate breaths. Then, violently, his body rolled, causing Langdon to lose his grip on the slippery chains. Like a stone, Baggia went down again and disappeared beneath the foaming water.

Langdon dove, eyes wide in the liquid murkiness. He found the cardinal. This time, when Langdon grabbed on, the chains across Baggia’s chest shifted . . . parting to reveal a further wickedness . . . a word stamped in seared flesh.



image source

Kouzelný svět magie

Harry Potter, to je magie a mánie, celosvětové komerční šílenství a pohádka o namáhavém, draze vykoupeném vítězství dobra nad zlem.
Z hlediska překladatele je to skutečně pořádný oříšek, vždyť pohádkových termínů a kozelných neologismů je ve všech sedmi dílech nepočítaně. Zkusíme dnes zapomenout na řešení Vladimíra Medka a vymyslet si vlastní :)


1. Znáte knihu Harry Potter a tajemá komnata? Pokud ne, základní informace najdete ZDE.

2. Přečtěte si ukázku (viz níže) a zauvažujte, s jakými problémy se při překladu budeme potýkat. Vyberte jednu obtížnou větu (z celé ukázky, včetně neoznačených částí), stručně definujte problém a vložte do komentáře k tomuto blogu.

3. Pokuste se přeložit tučně vyznačené části textu. Svůj překlad vložte do komentáře k tomuto blogu do utery 1.3. 18:00. Good luck!

POZNÁMKA
Tento první střet s překladatelskou realitou není souvislým textem a nepočítá se do zápočtových prací.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------


"Hello," said Harry. "I'm looking for Justin Finch-Fletchley."
The Hufepuffs' worst fears had clearly been confirmed. They all looked fearfully at Ernie.
"What do you want with him?" said Ernie in a quavering voice.
"I wanted to tell him what really happened with that snake at the Dueling Club," said Harry.
Ernie bit his white lips and then, taking a deep breath, said, "We were all there. We saw what happened."
"Then you noticed that after I spoke to it, the snake backed off?" said Harry.
"All I saw," said Ernie stubbornly, though he was trembling as he spoke, "was you speaking Parseltongue and chasing the snake toward Justin. "
"I didn't chase it at him!" Harry said, his voice shaking with anger. "It didn't even touch him!"
"It was a very near miss," said Ernie. "And in case you're getting ideas," he added hastily, "I might tell you that you can trace my family back through nine generations of witches and warlocks and my blood's as pure as anyone's, so -"
"I don't care what sort of blood you've got!" said Harry fiercely. "Why would I want to attack Muggle-borns?"
"I've heard you hate those Muggles you live with," said Ernie swiftly.
"It's not possible to live with the Dursleys and not hate them," said Harry. "Id like to see you try it."
He turned on his heel and stormed out of the library, earning himself a reproving glare from Madam Pince, who was polishing the gilded cover of a large spellbook.
Harry blundered up the corridor, barely noticing where he was going, he was in such a fury. The result was that he walked into something very large and solid, which knocked him backward onto the floor.
"Oh, hello, Hagrid," Harry said, looking up.
Hagrid's face was entirely hidden by a woolly, snow-covered balaclava, but it couldn't possibly be anyone else, as he filled most of the corridor in his moleskin overcoat. A dead rooster was hanging from one of his massive, gloved hands.
"All righ', Harry?" he said, pulling up the balaclava so he could speak. "Why aren't yeh in class?"
"Cancelled," said Harry, getting up. "What're you doing in here?"
Hagrid held up the limp rooster.
"Second one killed this term," he explained. "It's either foxes or a Blood-Suckin Bugbear, an' I need the Headmaster's permission ter put a charm around the hen coop."
He peered more closely at Harry from under his thick, snowflecked eyebrows.
"Yeh sure yeh're all righ'? Yeh look all hot an' bothered -"
Harry couldn't bring himself to repeat what Ernie and the rest of the Hufflepuffs had been saying about him.
"It's nothing," he said. "Id better get going, Hagrid, it's Transfiguration next and I've got to pick up my books."
He walked off, his mind still full of what Ernie had said about him.
"Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter he was Muggle-born ..... "