书名：Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix哈利波特与凤凰社

难度：Lexile蓝思阅读指数950L 

作者：J.K. Rowling 

出版社名称：Bloomsbury Children’s Books 

出版时间：2014 

语种：英文 

ISBN：9781408855690 

商品尺寸：19.9 x 5.4 x 13.2 cm 

包装：平装 

页数：816Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix《哈利波特与凤凰社》是J.K.罗琳创作的长篇小说，是“哈利波特”系列的第五部。本书讲述了在又一个暑假中，哈利波特被困在女贞路4号，遭到摄魂怪的突然袭击之后发生的事情。这部书中首次出现了D.A.，是邓布利多军（Dumbledore’s Army）的简称，也是防御协会（Defense Association）的简称。

推荐理由： 1.英文原版，原汁原味的英式英语让你尽享神奇的“魔法”盛宴； 2.电影《哈利波特5：凤凰社》原著小说，内容无删减； 3.英国版，印刷清晰，字体较大，纸质护眼。 Review “I’ve yet to meet a ten­year­old who hasn’t been entranced by its witty, complex plot and the character of the eponymous Harry.”  — Independent “Spellbinding, enchanting, bewitching stuff.”  — Mirror “Teachers say a chapter can silence the most rowdy of classes.”  — Guardian “One of the greatest literary adventures of modern times.”  — SundayTelegraph “The Harry Potter stories will join that small group of children’s books which are read and reread into adulthood.”  — TLS

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix《哈利波特与凤凰社》

在一条寂静的走廊尽头有一扇门，这一幕萦绕在哈利波特的梦中，使他时常在半夜醒来，惊惧尖叫。 哈利波特面对的不仅是即将到来的O.W.L.考试，他还要面对一位性格就像毒马蜂似的新任校领导，还有一个又恶毒又不满的家养小精灵，以及那个连名字都不能提的魔头日益增长的威胁…… 哈利现在面对的是魔法世界政府的不可信赖，还有霍格沃茨校方的无能为力…… 尽管如此，或者正因如此，他从朋友那里获得了前所未有的深厚友谊和勇气，还有无限的忠诚和难以承受的牺牲…… Dark times have come to Hogwarts. After the Dementors' attack on his cousin Dudley, Harry Potter knows that Voldemort will stop at nothing to find him. There are many who deny the Dark Lord's return, but Harry is not alone: a secret order gathers at Grimmauld Place to fight against the Dark forces. Harry must allow Professor Snape to teach him how to protect himself from Voldemort's savage assaults on his mind. But they are growing stronger by the day and Harry is running out of time. These new editions of the classic and internationally bestselling, multi-award-winning series feature instantly pick-up-able new jackets by Jonny Duddle, with huge child appeal, to bring Harry Potter to the next generation of readers. It’s time to PASS THE MAGIC ON.

J.K.罗琳，毕业于英国埃克塞特大学，英国女作家。1989年，她在前往伦敦的火车旅途中萌生了创作“哈利波特”系列小说的念头。七年后，《哈利波特与魔法石》问世，之后她陆续创作了《哈利波特与密室》《哈利波特与阿兹卡班的囚徒》等系列。哈利波特系列小说被译成79种语言，全球销量达4.5亿册。2012年，J.K.罗琳出版小说《偶发空缺》。之后以男性笔名Robert Galbraith陆续出版了Cormoran Strike系列侦探小说，包括《布谷鸟在呼唤》《罪恶生涯》。

J.K. Rowling is the author of the seven Harry Potter novels, which have sold over 450 million copies and have been translated into 79 languages, and three companion books originally published for charity. She is also the author of The Casual Vacancy, a novel for adults published in 2012, and, under the pseudonym of Robert Galbraith, is the author of the CormoranStrike crime series.

The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive. Cars that were usually gleaming stood dusty in their drives and lawns that were once emerald green lay parched and yellowing—for the use of hosepipes had been banned due to drought. Deprived of their usual car-washing and lawn-mowing pursuits, the inhabitants of Privet Drive had retreated into the shade of their cool houses, windows thrown wide in the hope of tempting in a nonexistent breeze. The only person left outdoors was a teenage boy who was lying flat on his back in a flowerbed outside number four.

He was a skinny, black-haired, bespectacled boy who had the pinched, slightly unhealthy look of someone who has grown a lot in a short space of time. His jeans were torn and dirty, his T-shirt baggy and faded, and the soles of his trainers were peeling away from the uppers. Harry Potter’s appearance did not endear him to the neighbours, who were the sort of people who thought scruffi-ness ought to be punishable by law, but as he had hidden himself behind a large hydrangea bush this evening he was quite invisible to passers-by. In fact, the only way he would be spotted was if his Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia stuck their heads out of the living-room window and looked straight down into the flowerbed below. On the whole, Harry thought he was to be congratulated on his idea of hiding here. He was not, perhaps, very comfortable lying on the hot, hard earth but, on the other hand, nobody was glaring at him, grinding their teeth so loudly that he could not hear the news, or shooting nasty questions at him, as had happened every time he had tried sitting down in the living room to watch television with his aunt and uncle. Almost as though this thought had fluttered through the open window, Vernon Dursley, Harry’s uncle, suddenly spoke. “Glad to see the boy’s stopped trying to butt in. Where is he, anyway?” “I don’t know,” said Aunt Petunia, unconcerned. “Not in the house.” Uncle Vernon grunted. “Watching the news…” he said scathingly. “I’d like to know what he’s really up to. As if a normal boy cares what’s on the news—Dudley hasn’t got a clue what’s going on; doubt he knows who the Prime Minister is! Anyway, it’s not as if there’d be anything about his lot on our news—” “Vernon, shh!” said Aunt Petunia. “The window’s open!” “Oh—yes—sorry, dear.” The Dursleys fell silent. Harry listened to a jingle about Fruit ‘n’ Bran breakfast cereal while he watched Mrs Figg, a batty cat-loving old lady from nearby Wisteria Walk, amble slowly past. She was frowning and muttering to herself. Harry was very pleased he was concealed behind the bush, as Mrs Figg had recently taken to asking him round for 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 again… 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 accident… 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. He had moved about two inches when several things happened in very quick succession.