Dolores Umbridge 26 страница

“— if he hadn’t just tried to sell us to the Death Eaters, yeah, ” said Ron.

They put up the tent and retreated inside it, where Ron made them tea. After their narrow escape, the chilly, musty old place felt like home: safe, familiar, and friendly.

“Oh, why did we go there? ” groaned Hermione after a few min- utes’ silence. “Harry, you were right, it was Godric’s Hollow all over

? 425‘

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

again, a complete waste of time! The Deathly Hallows. . . such rubbish. . . although actually, ” a sudden thought seemed to have struck her, “he might have made it all up, mightn’t he? He probably doesn’t believe in the Deathly Hallows at all, he just wanted to keep us talking until the Death Eaters arrived! ”

“I don’t think so, ” said Ron. “It’s a damn sight harder making stuff up when you’re under stress than you’d think. I found that out when the Snatchers caught me. It was much easier pretending to be Stan, because I knew a bit about him, than inventing a whole new person. Old Lovegood was under loads of pressure, trying to make sure we stayed put. I reckon he told us the truth, or what he thinks is the truth, just to keep us talking. ”

“Well, I don’t suppose it matters, ” sighed Hermione. “Even if he was being honest, I never heard such a lot of nonsense in all my life. ”

“Hang on, though, ” said Ron. “The Chamber of Secrets was sup- posed to be a myth, wasn’t it? ”

“But the Deathly Hallows can’t exist, Ron! ”

“You keep saying that, but one of them can, ” said Ron. “Harry’s Invisibility Cloak —”

“‘The Tale of the Three Brothers’ is a story, ” said Hermione firmly. “A story about how humans are frightened of death. If surviving was as simple as hiding under the Invisibility Cloak, we’d have ev- erything we need already! ”

“I don’t know. We could do with an unbeatable wand, ” said Harry, turning the blackthorn wand he so disliked over in his fingers. “There’s no such thing, Harry! ”

“You said there have been loads of wands — the Deathstick and whatever they were called —”

? 426‘

THE DEATHLY HALLOWS

“All right, even if you want to kid yourself the Elder Wand’s real, what about the Resurrection Stone? ” Her fingers sketched quotation marks around the name, and her tone dripped sarcasm. “No magic can raise the dead, and that’s that! ”

“When my wand connected with You-Know-Who’s, it made my mum and dad appear. . . and Cedric. . . ”

“But they weren’t really back from the dead, were they? ” said Hermione. “Those kinds of — of pale imitations aren’t the same as truly bringing someone back to life. ”

“But she, the girl in the tale, didn’t really come back, did she? The story says that once people are dead, they belong with the dead. But the second brother still got to see her and talk to her, didn’t he? He even lived with her for a while. . . . ”

He saw concern and something less easily definable in Hermione’s expression. Then, as she glanced at Ron, Harry realized that it was fear: He had scared her with his talk of living with dead people. “So that Peverell bloke who’s buried in Godric’s Hollow, ” he said hastily, trying to sound robustly sane, “you don’t know anything about him, then? ”

“No, ” she replied, looking relieved at the change of subject. “I looked him up after I saw the mark on his grave; if he’d been any- one famous or done anything important, I’m sure he’d be in one of our books. The only place I’ve managed to find the name ‘Peverell’

is Nature’s Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. I borrowed it from

Kreacher, ” she explained as Ron raised his eyebrows. “It lists the pure-blood families that are now extinct in the male line. Apparently the Peverells were one of the earliest families to vanish. ”

“‘Extinct in the male line’? ” repeated Ron.

“It means the name’s died out, ” said Hermione, “centuries ago, in

? 427‘

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

the case of the Peverells. They could still have descendants, though, they’d just be called something different. ”

And then it came to Harry in one shining piece, the memory that had stirred at the sound of the name “Peverell”: a filthy old man brandishing an ugly ring in the face of a Ministry official, and he cried aloud, “Marvolo Gaunt! ”

“Sorry? ” said Ron and Hermione together.

“ Marvolo Gaunt! You-Know-Who’s grandfather! In the Pensieve!

With Dumbledore! Marvolo Gaunt said he was descended from the Peverells! ”

Ron and Hermione looked bewildered.

“The ring, the ring that became the Horcrux, Marvolo Gaunt said it had the Peverell coat of arms on it! I saw him waving it in the bloke from the Ministry’s face, he nearly shoved it up his nose! ” “The Peverell coat of arms? ” said Hermione sharply. “Could you see what it looked like? ”

“Not really, ” said Harry, trying to remember. “There was nothing fancy on there, as far as I could see; maybe a few scratches. I only ever saw it really close up after it had been cracked open. ”

Harry saw Hermione’s comprehension in the sudden widening of her eyes. Ron was looking from one to the other, astonished. “Blimey. . . You reckon it was this sign again? The sign of the Hallows? ”

“Why not? ” said Harry excitedly. “Marvolo Gaunt was an igno- rant old git who lived like a pig, all he cared about was his ancestry. If that ring had been passed down through the centuries, he might not have known what it really was. There were no books in that house, and trust me, he wasn’t the type to read fairy tales to his kids. He’d have loved to think the scratches on the stone were a coat of

? 428‘

THE DEATHLY HALLOWS

arms, because as far as he was concerned, having pure blood made you practically royal. ”

“Yes. . . and that’s all very interesting, ” said Hermione cautiously, “but Harry, if you’re thinking what I think you’re think —”

“Well, why not? Why not? ” said Harry, abandoning caution. “It

was a stone, wasn’t it? ” He looked at Ron for support. “What if it was the Resurrection Stone? ”

Ron’s mouth fell open.

“Blimey — but would it still work if Dumbledore broke —? ”

“Work? Work? Ron, it never worked! There’s no such thing as a

Resurrection Stone! ”

Hermione had leapt to her feet, looking exasperated and angry. “Harry, you’re trying to fit everything into the Hallows story —”

“ Fit everything in? ” he repeated. “Hermione, it fits of its own ac-

cord! I know the sign of the Deathly Hallows was on that stone! Gaunt said he was descended from the Peverells! ”

“A minute ago you told us you never saw the mark on the stone properly! ”

“Where d’you reckon the ring is now? ” Ron asked Harry. “What did Dumbledore do with it after he broke it open? ”

But Harry’s imagination was racing ahead, far beyond Ron and Hermione’s. . . .

Three objects, or Hallows, which, if united, will make the possessor master of Death. . . Master. . . Conqueror. . . Vanquisher. . . The last

enemy that shall be destroyed is death. . . .

And he saw himself, possessor of the Hallows, facing Volde-

mort, whose Horcruxes were no match. . . Neither can live while

the other survives. . . . Was this the answer? Hallows versus Hor-

cruxes? Was there a way, after all, to ensure that he was the one

? 429‘

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

who triumphed? If he were the master of the Deathly Hallows, would he be safe?

“Harry? ”

But he scarcely heard Hermione: He had pulled out his Invisibil- ity Cloak and was running it through his fingers, the cloth supple as water, light as air. He had never seen anything to equal it in his nearly seven years in the Wizarding world. The Cloak was ex-

actly what Xenophilius had described: A cloak that really and truly

renders the wearer completely invisible, and endures eternally, giving constant and impenetrable concealment, no matter what spells are cast

at it. . . .

And then, with a gasp, he remembered —

“Dumbledore had my Cloak the night my parents died! ” His voice shook and he could feel the color in his face, but he did not care.

“My mum told Sirius that Dumbledore borrowed the Cloak! This is why! He wanted to examine it, because he thought it was the third Hallow! Ignotus Peverell is buried in Godric’s Hollow. . . . ” Harry was walking blindly around the tent, feeling as though great new vistas of truth were opening all around him. “He’s my ancestor! I’m descended from the third brother! It all makes sense! ”

He felt armed in certainty, in his belief in the Hallows, as if the mere idea of possessing them was giving him protection, and he felt joyous as he turned back to the other two.

“Harry, ” said Hermione again, but he was busy undoing the pouch around his neck, his fingers shaking hard.

“Read it, ” he told her, pushing his mother’s letter into her hand. “Read it! Dumbledore had the Cloak, Hermione! Why else would he want it? He didn’t need a Cloak, he could perform a Disillusionment

? 430‘

THE DEATHLY HALLOWS

Charm so powerful that he made himself completely invisible with- out one! ”

Something fell to the floor and rolled, glittering, under a chair: He had dislodged the Snitch when he pulled out the letter. He stooped to pick it up, and then the newly tapped spring of fabulous discoveries threw him another gift, and shock and wonder erupted inside him so that he shouted out.

“IT’S IN HERE! He left me the ring — it’s in the Snitch! ” “You — you reckon? ”

He could not understand why Ron looked taken aback. It was so obvious, so clear to Harry: Everything fit, everything. . . . His Cloak was the third Hallow, and when he discovered how to open the Snitch he would have the second, and then all he needed to do was find the first Hallow, the Elder Wand, and then —

But it was as though a curtain fell on a lit stage: All his excite- ment, all his hope and happiness were extinguished at a stroke, and he stood alone in the darkness, and the glorious spell was broken. “That’s what he’s after. ”

The change in his voice made Ron and Hermione look even more scared.

“You-Know-Who’s after the Elder Wand. ”

He turned his back on their strained, incredulous faces. He knew it was the truth. It all made sense. Voldemort was not seeking a new wand; he was seeking an old wand, a very old wand indeed. Harry walked to the entrance of the tent, forgetting about Ron and Her- mione as he looked out into the night, thinking. . . .

Voldemort had been raised in a Muggle orphanage. Nobody

could have told him The Tales of Beedle the Bard when he was a

child, any more than Harry had heard them. Hardly any wizards

? 431‘

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

believed in the Deathly Hallows. Was it likely that Voldemort knew about them?

Harry gazed into the darkness. . . . If Voldemort had known about the Deathly Hallows, surely he would have sought them, done anything to possess them: three objects that made the pos- sessor master of Death? If he had known about the Deathly Hal- lows, he might not have needed Horcruxes in the first place. Didn’t the simple fact that he had taken a Hallow, and turned it into a Horcrux, demonstrate that he did not know this last great Wiz- arding secret?

Which meant that Voldemort sought the Elder Wand without realizing its full power, without understanding that it was one of three. . . for the wand was the Hallow that could not be hidden,

whose existence was best known. . . . The bloody trail of the Elder

Wand is splattered across the pages of Wizarding history . . .

Harry watched the cloudy sky, curves of smoke-gray and silver sliding over the face of the white moon. He felt lightheaded with amazement at his discoveries.

He turned back into the tent. It was a shock to see Ron and Hermi- one standing exactly where he had left them, Hermione still holding Lily’s letter, Ron at her side looking slightly anxious. Didn’t they realize how far they had traveled in the last few minutes?

“This is it, ” Harry said, trying to bring them inside the glow of his own astonished certainty. “This explains everything. The Deathly Hallows are real, and I’ve got one — maybe two —”

He held up the Snitch.

“— and You-Know-Who’s chasing the third, but he doesn’t real- ize. . . he just thinks it’s a powerful wand —”

“Harry, ” said Hermione, moving across to him and handing him

? 432‘

THE DEATHLY HALLOWS

back Lily’s letter, “I’m sorry, but I think you’ve got this wrong, all wrong. ”

“But don’t you see? It all fits —”

“No, it doesn’t, ” she said. “It doesn’t, Harry, you’re just getting

carried away. Please, ” she said as he started to speak, “please just answer me this: If the Deathly Hallows really existed, and Dum- bledore knew about them, knew that the person who possessed all three of them would be master of Death — Harry, why wouldn’t he have told you? Why? ”

He had his answer ready.

“But you said it, Hermione! You’ve got to find out about them for yourself! It’s a Quest! ”

“But I only said that to try and persuade you to come to the Lovegoods’! ” cried Hermione in exasperation. “I didn’t really be- lieve it! ”

Harry took no notice.

“Dumbledore usually let me find out stuff for myself. He let me try my strength, take risks. This feels like the kind of thing he’d do. ” “Harry, this isn’t a game, this isn’t practice! This is the real thing, and Dumbledore left you very clear instructions: Find and destroy the Horcruxes! That symbol doesn’t mean anything, forget the Deathly Hallows, we can’t afford to get sidetracked —”

Harry was barely listening to her. He was turning the Snitch over and over in his hands, half expecting it to break open, to reveal the Resurrection Stone, to prove to Hermione that he was right, that the Deathly Hallows were real.

She appealed to Ron.

“You don’t believe in this, do you? ”

Harry looked up. Ron hesitated.

? 433‘

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“I dunno. . . I mean. . . bits of it sort of fit together, ” said Ron awkwardly. “But when you look at the whole thing. . . ” He took a deep breath. “I think we’re supposed to get rid of Horcruxes, Harry. That’s what Dumbledore told us to do. Maybe. . . maybe we should forget about this Hallows business. ”

“Thank you, Ron, ” said Hermione. “I’ll take first watch. ” And she strode past Harry and sat down in the tent entrance, bringing the action to a fierce full stop.

But Harry hardly slept that night. The idea of the Deathly Hal- lows had taken possession of him, and he could not rest while agi- tating thoughts whirled through his mind: the wand, the stone, and the Cloak, if he could just possess them all. . . .

I open at the close. . . . But what was ‘the close’? Why couldn’t he

have the stone now? If only he had the stone, he could ask Dumble- dore these questions in person. . . and Harry murmured words to the Snitch in the darkness, trying everything, even Parseltongue, but the golden ball would not open. . . .

And the wand, the Elder Wand, where was that hidden? Where was Voldemort searching now? Harry wished his scar would burn and show him Voldemort’s thoughts, because for the first time ever, he and Voldemort were united in wanting the very same thing. . . . Hermione would not like that idea, of course. . . . But then, she did

not believe. . . Xenophilius had been right, in a way. . . Limited.

Narrow. Close-minded. The truth was that she was scared of the idea

of the Deathly Hallows, especially of the Resurrection Stone. . . and Harry pressed his mouth again to the Snitch, kissing it, nearly swallowing it, but the cold metal did not yield. . . .

It was nearly dawn when he remembered Luna, alone in a cell in Azkaban, surrounded by dementors, and he suddenly felt ashamed

? 434‘

THE DEATHLY HALLOWS

of himself. He had forgotten all about her in his feverish contempla- tion of the Hallows. If only they could rescue her; but dementors in those numbers would be virtually unassailable. Now he came to think about it, he had not yet tried casting a Patronus with the blackthorn wand. . . . He must try that in the morning. . . .

If only there was a way of getting a better wand. . .

And desire for the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, unbeatable, in- vincible, swallowed him once more. . . .

They packed up the tent next morning and moved on through a dreary shower of rain. The downpour pursued them to the coast, where they pitched the tent that night, and persisted through the whole week, through sodden landscapes that Harry found bleak and depressing. He could think only of the Deathly Hallows. It was as though a flame had been lit inside him that nothing, not Hermione’s flat disbelief nor Ron’s persistent doubts, could extinguish. And yet the fiercer the longing for the Hallows burned inside him, the less joyful it made him. He blamed Ron and Hermione: Their deter- mined indifference was as bad as the relentless rain for dampening his spirits, but neither could erode his certainty, which remained absolute. Harry’s belief in and longing for the Hallows consumed him so much that he felt quite isolated from the other two and their obsession with the Horcruxes.

“Obsession? ” said Hermione in a low fierce voice, when Harry was careless enough to use the word one evening, after Hermione had told him off for his lack of interest in locating more Horcruxes. “We’re not the ones with an obsession, Harry! We’re the ones trying to do what Dumbledore wanted us to do! ”

But he was impervious to the veiled criticism. Dumbledore had left the sign of the Hallows for Hermione to decipher, and he

? 435‘

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

had also, Harry remained convinced of it, left the Resurrection

Stone hidden in the golden Snitch. Neither can live while the other

survives. . . . master of Death. . . Why didn’t Ron and Hermione

understand?

“‘The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death, ’” Harry quoted

calmly.

“I thought it was You-Know-Who we were supposed to be fight- ing? ” Hermione retorted, and Harry gave up on her.

Even the mystery of the silver doe, which the other two insisted on discussing, seemed less important to Harry now, a vaguely interesting sideshow. The only other thing that mattered to him was that his scar had begun to prickle again, although he did all he could to hide this fact from the other two. He sought solitude whenever it happened, but was disappointed by what he saw. The visions he and Voldemort were sharing had changed in quality; they had become blurred, shift- ing as though they were moving in and out of focus. Harry was just able to make out the indistinct features of an object that looked like a skull, and something like a mountain that was more shadow than substance. Used to images sharp as reality, Harry was disconcerted by the change. He was worried that the connection between himself and Voldemort had been damaged, a connection that he both feared and, whatever he had told Hermione, prized. Somehow Harry con- nected these unsatisfying, vague images with the destruction of his wand, as if it was the blackthorn wand’s fault that he could no longer see into Voldemort’s mind as well as before.

As the weeks crept on, Harry could not help but notice, even through his new self-absorption, that Ron seemed to be taking charge. Perhaps because he was determined to make up for having

? 436‘

THE DEATHLY HALLOWS

walked out on them, perhaps because Harry’s descent into listless- ness galvanized his dormant leadership qualities, Ron was the one now encouraging and exhorting the other two into action.

“Three Horcruxes left, ” he kept saying. “We need a plan of ac- tion, come on! Where haven’t we looked? Let’s go through it again. The orphanage. . . ”

Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, the Riddle House, Borgin and Burkes, Albania, every place that they knew Tom Riddle had ever lived or worked, visited or murdered, Ron and Hermione raked over them again, Harry joining in only to stop Hermione pestering him. He would have been happy to sit alone in silence, trying to read Volde- mort’s thoughts, to find out more about the Elder Wand, but Ron insisted on journeying to ever more unlikely places simply, Harry was aware, to keep them moving.

“You never know, ” was Ron’s constant refrain. “Upper Flagley is a Wizarding village, he might’ve wanted to live there. Let’s go and have a poke around. ”

These frequent forays into Wizarding territory brought them within occasional sight of Snatchers.

“Some of them are supposed to be as bad as Death Eaters, ” said Ron. “The lot that got me were a bit pathetic, but Bill reckons some

of them are really dangerous. They said on Potterwatch —”

“On what? ” said Harry.

“ Potterwatch, didn’t I tell you that’s what it was called? The pro-

gram I keep trying to get on the radio, the only one that tells the truth about what’s going on! Nearly all the programs are following

You-Know-Who’s line, all except Potterwatch. I really want you to

hear it, but it’s tricky tuning in. . . . ”

? 437‘

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Ron spent evening after evening using his wand to beat out vari- ous rhythms on top of the wireless while the dials whirled. Occa- sionally they would catch snatches of advice on how to treat dragon pox, and once a few bars of “A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love. ” While he tapped, Ron continued to try to hit on the correct pass- word, muttering strings of random words under his breath. “They’re normally something to do with the Order, ” he told them. “Bill had a real knack for guessing them. I’m bound to get one in the end. . . . ”

But not until March did luck favor Ron at last. Harry was sitting in the tent entrance, on guard duty, staring idly at a clump of grape hyacinths that had forced their way through the chilly ground, when Ron shouted excitedly from inside the tent.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it! Password was ‘Albus’! Get in here, Harry! ” Roused for the first time in days from his contemplation of the Deathly Hallows, Harry hurried back inside the tent to find Ron and Hermione kneeling on the floor beside the little radio. Hermi- one, who had been polishing the sword of Gryffindor just for some- thing to do, was sitting open-mouthed, staring at the tiny speaker, from which a most familiar voice was issuing.

“. . . apologize for our temporary absence from the airwaves, which was due to a number of house calls in our area by those charming Death Eaters. ”

“But that’s Lee Jordan! ” said Hermione.

“I know! ” beamed Ron. “Cool, eh? ”

“. . . now found ourselves another secure location, ” Lee was say- ing, “and I’m pleased to tell you that two of our regular contributors have joined me here this evening. Evening, boys! ” “Hi. ”

? 438‘

THE DEATHLY HALLOWS

“Evening, River. ”

“‘River, ’ that’s Lee, ” Ron explained. “They’ve all got code names, but you can usually tell —”

“Shh! ” said Hermione.

“But before we hear from Royal and Romulus, ” Lee went on, “let’s

take a moment to report those deaths that the Wizarding Wireless

Network News and Daily Prophet don’t think important enough to

mention. It is with great regret that we inform our listeners of the murders of Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell. ”

Harry felt a sick, swooping in his belly. He, Ron, and Hermione gazed at one another in horror.

“A goblin by the name of Gornuk was also killed. It is believed that Muggle-born Dean Thomas and a second goblin, both be- lieved to have been traveling with Tonks, Cresswell, and Gor- nuk, may have escaped. If Dean is listening, or if anyone has any knowledge of his whereabouts, his parents and sisters are desperate for news.

“Meanwhile, in Gaddley, a Muggle family of five has been found dead in their home. Muggle authorities are attributing the deaths to a gas leak, but members of the Order of the Phoenix inform me that it was the Killing Curse — more evidence, as if it were needed, of the fact that Muggle slaughter is becoming little more than a recreational sport under the new regime.

“Finally, we regret to inform our listeners that the remains of Bathilda Bagshot have been discovered in Godric’s Hollow. The evidence is that she died several months ago. The Order of the Phoe- nix informs us that her body showed unmistakable signs of injuries inflicted by Dark Magic.

“Listeners, I’d like to invite you now to join us in a minute’s

? 439‘

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

silence in memory of Ted Tonks, Dirk Cresswell, Bathilda Bagshot, Gornuk, and the unnamed, but no less regretted, Muggles murdered by the Death Eaters. ”

Silence fell, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione did not speak. Half of Harry yearned to hear more, half of him was afraid of what might come next. It was the first time he had felt fully connected to the outside world for a long time.

“Thank you, ” said Lee’s voice. “And now we turn to regular con- tributor Royal, for an update on how the new Wizarding order is affecting the Muggle world. ”

“Thanks, River, ” said an unmistakable voice, deep, measured, reassuring.

“Kingsley! ” burst out Ron.

“We know! ” said Hermione, hushing him.

“Muggles remain ignorant of the source of their suffering as they continue to sustain heavy casualties, ” said Kingsley. “However, we continue to hear truly inspirational stories of wizards and witches risking their own safety to protect Muggle friends and neighbors, often without the Muggles’ knowledge. I’d like to appeal to all our listeners to emulate their example, perhaps by casting a protective charm over any Muggle dwellings in your street. Many lives could be saved if such simple measures are taken. ”

“And what would you say, Royal, to those listeners who reply that in these dangerous times, it should be ‘Wizards first’? ” asked Lee. “I’d say that it’s one short step from ‘Wizards first’ to ‘Purebloods first, ’ and then to ‘Death Eaters, ’” replied Kingsley. “We’re all hu- man, aren’t we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving. ”

“Excellently put, Royal, and you’ve got my vote for Minister of

? 440‘

THE DEATHLY HALLOWS

Magic if ever we get out of this mess, ” said Lee. “And now, over to Romulus for our popular feature ‘Pals of Potter. ’”

“Thanks, River, ” said another very familiar voice; Ron started to speak, but Hermione forestalled him in a whisper.

“ We know it’s Lupin! ”

“Romulus, do you maintain, as you have every time you’ve ap- peared on our program, that Harry Potter is still alive? ”

“I do, ” said Lupin firmly. “There is no doubt at all in my mind that his death would be proclaimed as widely as possible by the Death Eaters if it had happened, because it would strike a deadly blow at the morale of those resisting the new regime. ‘The Boy Who Lived’ remains a symbol of everything for which we are fighting: the triumph of good, the power of innocence, the need to keep resisting. ”

A mixture of gratitude and shame welled up in Harry. Had Lupin forgiven him, then, for the terrible things he had said when they had last met?

“And what would you say to Harry if you knew he was listening, Romulus? ”

“I’d tell him we’re all with him in spirit, ” said Lupin, then hesi- tated slightly. “And I’d tell him to follow his instincts, which are good and nearly always right. ”

Harry looked at Hermione, whose eyes were full of tears. “Nearly always right, ” she repeated.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? ” said Ron in surprise. “Bill told me Lupin’s living with Tonks again! And apparently she’s getting pretty big too. . . . ”

“. . . and our usual update on those friends of Harry Potter’s who are suffering for their allegiance? ” Lee was saying.