Головна

Harry rubbed his scar.

  1. And at long last, Harry mounted his Firebolt, and kicked off from the ground.
  2. And she strode past Harry and sat down in the tent entrance bringing the action to a fierce full stop.
  3. And the scene shifted. Now, Harry saw Snape talking to the portrait of Dumbledore behind his desk.
  4. And then Harry heard a thin, piteous human scream from amidst the terrible commotion, the thunder of devouring flame.
  5. And then the tunnel began to rise; moments later it twisted, and Crookshanks had gone. Instead, Harry could see a patch of dim light through a small opening.
  6. And they turned a corner and saw the thing for which Harry had been prepared, but which still brought all of them to a halt.
  7. As Harry opened the door, something brushed against his leg. He bent down just in time to grab Crookshanks by the end of his bushy tail and drag him outside.

"I don't think he'd have told Bellatrix it was a Horcrux, though. He never told Lucius Malfoy the truth about the diary. He probably told her it was a treasured possession and asked her to place it in her vault. The safest place in the world for anything you want to hide, Hagrid told me... except for Hogwarts."

When Harry had finished speaking, Ron shook his head.

"You really understand him."

"Bits of him," said Harry. "Bits... I just wish I'd understood Dumbledore as much. But we'll see. Come on-Ollivander now."

Ron and Hermione looked bewildered but very impressed as they followed him across the little landing and knocked upon the door opposite Bill and Fleur's. A weak "Come in!" answered them.

The wandmaker was lying on the twin bed farthest from the window. He had been held in the cellar for more than a year, and tortured, Harry knew, on at least one occasion. He was emaciated, the bones of his face sticking out sharply against the yellowish skin. His great silver eyes seemed vast in their sunken sockets. The hands that lay upon the blanket could have belonged to a skeleton. Harry sat down on the empty bed, beside Ron and Hermione. The rising sun was not visible here. The room faced the cliff-top garden and the freshly dug grave.

"Mr. Ollivander, I'm sorry to disturb you," Harry said.

"My dear boy," Ollivander's voice was feeble. "You rescued us, I thought we would die in that place, I can never thank you... never thank you... enough."

"We were glad to do it."

Harry's scar throbbed. He knew, he was certain, that there was hardly any time left in which to beat Voldemort to his goal, or else to attempt to thwart him. He felt a flutter of panic... yet he had made his decision when he chose to speak to Griphook first. Feigning a calm he did not feel, he groped in the pouch around his neck and took out the two halves of his broken wand.

"Mr. Ollivander, I need some help."

"Anything. Anything," said the wandmaker weakly.

"Can you mend this? Is it possible?"



The goblin bowed his great domed head in acknowledgement, then flexed his short legs. | But Mr. Ollivander intervened.

Greyback gave a grunt of pleasure. | She was back within seconds. | Harry could barely breathe. | Harry waited, holding his breath, fighting against the prickling of his scar. | Ron had burst into the drawing room; Bellatrix looked around, shocked; she turned her wand to face Ron instead- | The tiny elf trotted into the room, his shaking finger pointing at his old mistress. | THE WANDMAKER | They murmured words he did not catch; he felt gentle pats upon his back, and then they all traipsed back toward the cottage, leaving Harry alone beside the elf. | Bill and Fleur were standing at the foot of the stairs. | He saw Hermione and Ron look at each other, astonished, but there would be time enough to explain after Griphook had given his answer. |

© 2016-2022  um.co.ua - учбові матеріали та реферати