Dolores Umbridge 30 страница

“I think so. Subtle laws govern wand ownership, but the con- quered wand will usually bend its will to its new master. ”

“So I should use this one? ” said Ron, pulling Wormtail’s wand out of his pocket and handing it to Ollivander.

“Chestnut and dragon heartstring. Nine-and-a-quarter inches. Brittle. I was forced to make this shortly after my kidnapping, for Peter Pettigrew. Yes, if you won it, it is more likely to do your bid- ding, and do it well, than another wand. ”

“And this holds true for all wands, does it? ” asked Harry. “I think so, ” replied Ollivander, his protuberant eyes upon Har- ry’s face. “You ask deep questions, Mr. Potter. Wandlore is a complex and mysterious branch of magic. ”

“So, it isn’t necessary to kill the previous owner to take true pos- session of a wand? ” asked Harry.

Ollivander swallowed.

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“Necessary? No, I should not say that it is necessary to kill. ” “There are legends, though, ” said Harry, and as his heart rate quickened, the pain in his scar became more intense; he was sure that Voldemort had decided to put his idea into action. “Legends about a wand — or wands — that have passed from hand to hand by murder. ”

Ollivander turned pale. Against the snowy pillow he was light gray, and his eyes were enormous, bloodshot, and bulging with what looked like fear.

“Only one wand, I think, ” he whispered.

“And You-Know-Who is interested in it, isn’t he? ” asked Harry. “I — how? ” croaked Ollivander, and he looked appealingly at Ron and Hermione for help. “How do you know this? ”

“He wanted you to tell him how to overcome the connection between our wands, ” said Harry.

Ollivander looked terrified.

“He tortured me, you must understand that! The Cruciatus Curse, I — I had no choice but to tell him what I knew, what I guessed! ” “I understand, ” said Harry. “You told him about the twin cores? You said he just had to borrow another wizard’s wand? ” Ollivander looked horrified, transfixed, by the amount that Harry knew. He nodded slowly.

“But it didn’t work, ” Harry went on. “Mine still beat the bor- rowed wand. Do you know why that is? ”

Ollivander shook his head as slowly as he had just nodded. “I had. . . never heard of such a thing. Your wand performed something unique that night. The connection of the twin cores is incredibly rare, yet why your wand should have snapped the bor- rowed wand, I do not know. . . . ”

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“We were talking about the other wand, the wand that changes hands by murder. When You-Know-Who realized my wand had done something strange, he came back and asked about that other wand, didn’t he? ”

“How do you know this? ”

Harry did not answer.

“Yes, he asked, ” whispered Ollivander. “He wanted to know ev- erything I could tell him about the wand variously known as the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny, or the Elder Wand. ”

Harry glanced sideways at Hermione. She looked flabbergasted. “The Dark Lord, ” said Ollivander in hushed and frightened tones, “had always been happy with the wand I made him — yew and phoenix feather, thirteen-and-a-half inches — until he discovered the connection of the twin cores. Now he seeks another, more pow- erful wand, as the only way to conquer yours. ”

“But he’ll know soon, if he doesn’t already, that mine’s broken beyond repair, ” said Harry quietly.

“No! ” said Hermione, sounding frightened. “He can’t know that, Harry, how could he —? ”

“Priori Incantatem, ” said Harry. “We left your wand and the blackthorn wand at the Malfoys’, Hermione. If they examine them properly, make them re-create the spells they’ve cast lately, they’ll see that yours broke mine, they’ll see that you tried and failed to mend it, and they’ll realize that I’ve been using the blackthorn one ever since. ”

The little color she had regained since their arrival had drained from her face. Ron gave Harry a reproachful look, and said, “Let’s not worry about that now —”

But Mr. Ollivander intervened.

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“The Dark Lord no longer seeks the Elder Wand only for your destruction, Mr. Potter. He is determined to possess it because he believes it will make him truly invulnerable. ”

“And will it? ”

“The owner of the Elder Wand must always fear attack, ” said Ollivander, “but the idea of the Dark Lord in possession of the Deathstick is, I must admit. . . formidable. ”

Harry was suddenly reminded of how he had been unsure, when they first met, of how much he liked Ollivander. Even now, having been tortured and imprisoned by Voldemort, the idea of the Dark wizard in possession of this wand seemed to enthrall him as much as it repulsed him.

“You — you really think this wand exists, then, Mr. Ollivander? ” asked Hermione.

“Oh yes, ” said Ollivander. “Yes, it is perfectly possible to trace the wand’s course through history. There are gaps, of course, and long ones, where it vanishes from view, temporarily lost or hidden; but always it resurfaces. It has certain identifying characteristics that those who are learned in wandlore recognize. There are written ac- counts, some of them obscure, that I and other wandmakers have made it our business to study. They have the ring of authenticity. ” “So you — you don’t think it can be a fairy tale or a myth? ” Her- mione asked hopefully.

“No, ” said Ollivander. “Whether it needs to pass by murder, I do

not know. Its history is bloody, but that may be simply due to the fact that it is such a desirable object, and arouses such passions in wizards. Immensely powerful, dangerous in the wrong hands, and an object of incredible fascination to all of us who study the power of wands. ”

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“Mr. Ollivander, ” said Harry, “you told You-Know-Who that Gregorovitch had the Elder Wand, didn’t you? ”

Ollivander turned, if possible, even paler. He looked ghostly as he gulped.

“But how — how do you —? ”

“Never mind how I know it, ” said Harry, closing his eyes mo- mentarily as his scar burned and he saw, for mere seconds, a vision of the main street in Hogsmeade, still dark, because it was so much farther north. “You told You-Know-Who that Gregorovitch had the wand? ”

“It was a rumor, ” whispered Ollivander. “A rumor, years and years ago, long before you were born! I believe Gregorovitch himself started it. You can see how good it would be for business: that he was studying and duplicating the qualities of the Elder Wand! ” “Yes, I can see that, ” said Harry. He stood up. “Mr. Ollivander, one last thing, and then we’ll let you get some rest. What do you know about the Deathly Hallows? ”

“The — the what? ” asked the wandmaker, looking utterly bewildered.

“The Deathly Hallows. ”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. Is this still something to do with wands? ”

Harry looked into the sunken face and believed that Ollivander was not acting. He did not know about the Hallows.

“Thank you, ” said Harry. “Thank you very much. We’ll leave you to get some rest now. ”

Ollivander looked stricken.

“He was torturing me! ” he gasped. “The Cruciatus Curse. . . you have no idea. . . . ”

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“I do, ” said Harry. “I really do. Please get some rest. Thank you for telling me all of this. ”

He led Ron and Hermione down the staircase. Harry caught a glimpse of Bill, Fleur, Luna, and Dean sitting at the table in the kitchen, cups of tea in front of them. They all looked up at Harry as he appeared in the doorway, but he merely nodded to them and con- tinued into the garden, Ron and Hermione behind him. The reddish mound of earth that covered Dobby lay ahead, and Harry walked back to it, as the pain in his head built more and more powerfully. It was a huge effort now to close down the visions that were forc- ing themselves upon him, but he knew that he would have to resist only a little longer. He would yield very soon, because he needed to know that his theory was right. He must make only one more short effort, so that he could explain to Ron and Hermione. “Gregorovitch had the Elder Wand a long time ago, ” he said. “I saw You-Know-Who trying to find him. When he tracked him down, he found that Gregorovitch didn’t have it anymore: It was stolen from him by Grindelwald. How Grindelwald found out that Gregorovitch had it, I don’t know — but if Gregorovitch was stupid enough to spread the rumor, it can’t have been that difficult. ” Voldemort was at the gates of Hogwarts; Harry could see him standing there, and see too the lamp bobbing in the pre-dawn, com- ing closer and closer.

“And Grindelwald used the Elder Wand to become powerful. And at the height of his power, when Dumbledore knew he was the only one who could stop him, he dueled Grindelwald and beat him, and he took the Elder Wand. ”

“ Dumbledore had the Elder Wand? ” said Ron. “But then — where

is it now? ”

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“At Hogwarts, ” said Harry, fighting to remain with them in the cliff-top garden.

“But then, let’s go! ” said Ron urgently. “Harry, let’s go and get it before he does! ”

“It’s too late for that, ” said Harry. He could not help himself, but clutched his head, trying to help it resist. “He knows where it is. He’s there now. ”

“Harry! ” Ron said furiously. “How long have you known this — why have we been wasting time? Why did you talk to Griphook first? We could have gone — we could still go —”

“No, ” said Harry, and he sank to his knees in the grass. “Hermi- one’s right. Dumbledore didn’t want me to have it. He didn’t want me to take it. He wanted me to get the Horcruxes. ”

“The unbeatable wand, Harry! ” moaned Ron.

“I’m not supposed to. . . I’m supposed to get the Horcruxes. . . . ” And now everything was cool and dark: The sun was barely vis- ible over the horizon as he glided alongside Snape, up through the grounds toward the lake.

“I shall join you in the castle shortly, ” he said in his high, cold voice. “Leave me now. ”

Snape bowed and set off back up the path, his black cloak billow- ing behind him. Harry walked slowly, waiting for Snape’s figure to disappear. It would not do for Snape, or indeed anyone else, to see where he was going. But there were no lights in the castle windows, and he could conceal himself. . . and in a second he had cast upon himself a Disillusionment Charm that hid him even from his own eyes.

And he walked on, around the edge of the lake, taking in the out- lines of the beloved castle, his first kingdom, his birthright. . . .

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And here it was, beside the lake, reflected in the dark waters. The white marble tomb, an unnecessary blot on the familiar landscape. He felt again that rush of controlled euphoria, that heady sense of purpose in destruction. He raised the old yew wand: How fitting that this would be its last great act.

The tomb split open from head to foot. The shrouded figure was as long and thin as it had been in life. He raised the wand again. The wrappings fell open. The face was translucent, pale, sunken, yet almost perfectly preserved. They had left his spectacles on the crooked nose: He felt amused derision. Dumbledore’s hands were folded upon his chest, and there it lay, clutched beneath them, bur- ied with him.

Had the old fool imagined that marble or death would protect the wand? Had he thought that the Dark Lord would be scared to violate his tomb? The spiderlike hand swooped and pulled the wand from Dumbledore’s grasp, and as he took it, a shower of sparks flew from its tip, sparkling over the corpse of its last owner, ready to serve a new master at last.

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SHELL COTTAGE

ill and Fleur’s cottage stood alone on a cliff overlooking the

sea, its walls embedded with shells and whitewashed. It was

a lonely and beautiful place. Wherever Harry went inside the tiny cottage or its garden, he could hear the constant ebb and flow of the sea, like the breathing of some great, slumbering creature. He spent much of the next few days making excuses to escape the crowded cottage, craving the cliff-top view of open sky and wide, empty sea, and the feel of cold, salty wind on his face.

The enormity of his decision not to race Voldemort to the wand still scared Harry. He could not remember, ever before, choosing

not to act. He was full of doubts, doubts that Ron could not help

voicing whenever they were together.

“What if Dumbledore wanted us to work out the symbol in time to get the wand? ” “What if working out what the symbol meant made you ‘worthy’ to get the Hallows? ” “Harry, if that really is the Elder Wand, how the hell are we supposed to finish off You-Know-Who? ”

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Harry had no answers: There were moments when he wondered whether it had been outright madness not to try to prevent Volde- mort breaking open the tomb. He could not even explain satisfacto- rily why he had decided against it: Every time he tried to reconstruct the internal arguments that had led to his decision, they sounded feebler to him.

The odd thing was that Hermione’s support made him feel just as confused as Ron’s doubts. Now forced to accept that the Elder Wand was real, she maintained that it was an evil object, and that the way Voldemort had taken possession of it was repellent, not to be considered.

“You could never have done that, Harry, ” she said again and again. “You couldn’t have broken into Dumbledore’s grave. ” But the idea of Dumbledore’s corpse frightened Harry much less than the possibility that he might have misunderstood the living Dumbledore’s intentions. He felt that he was still groping in the dark; he had chosen his path but kept looking back, wondering whether he had misread the signs, whether he should not have taken the other way. From time to time, anger at Dumbledore crashed over him again, powerful as the waves slamming themselves against the cliff beneath the cottage, anger that Dumbledore had not explained before he died.

“But is he dead? ” said Ron, three days after they had arrived at the

cottage. Harry had been staring out over the wall that separated the cottage garden from the cliff when Ron and Hermione had found him; he wished they had not, having no wish to join in with their argument.

“Yes, he is, Ron, please don’t start that again! ”

“Look at the facts, Hermione, ” said Ron, speaking across Harry,

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who continued to gaze at the horizon. “The silver doe. The sword. The eye Harry saw in the mirror —”

“Harry admits he could have imagined the eye! Don’t you, Harry? ”

“I could have, ” said Harry without looking at her. “But you don’t think you did, do you? ” asked Ron. “No, I don’t, ” said Harry.

“There you go! ” said Ron quickly, before Hermione could carry on. “If it wasn’t Dumbledore, explain how Dobby knew we were in the cellar, Hermione? ”

“I can’t — but can you explain how Dumbledore sent him to us if he’s lying in a tomb at Hogwarts? ”

“I dunno, it could’ve been his ghost! ”

“Dumbledore wouldn’t come back as a ghost, ” said Harry. There was little about Dumbledore he was sure of now, but he knew that much. “He would have gone on. ”

“What d’you mean, ‘gone on’? ” asked Ron, but before Harry could say any more, a voice behind them said, “’Arry? ”

Fleur had come out of the cottage, her long silver hair flying in the breeze.

“’Arry, Grip’ook would like to speak to you. ’E eez in ze smallest bedroom, ’e says ’e does not want to be over’eard. ”

Her dislike of the goblin sending her to deliver messages was clear; she looked irritable as she walked back around the house. Griphook was waiting for them, as Fleur had said, in the tiniest of the cottage’s three bedrooms, in which Hermione and Luna slept by night. He had drawn the red cotton curtains against the bright, cloudy sky, which gave the room a fiery glow at odds with the rest of the airy, light cottage.

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“I have reached my decision, Harry Potter, ” said the goblin, who was sitting cross-legged in a low chair, drumming its arms with his spindly fingers. “Though the goblins of Gringotts will consider it base treachery, I have decided to help you —”

“That’s great! ” said Harry, relief surging through him. “Griphook, thank you, we’re really —”

“— in return, ” said the goblin firmly, “for payment. ” Slightly taken aback, Harry hesitated.

“How much do you want? I’ve got gold. ” “Not gold, ” said Griphook. “I have gold. ”

His black eyes glittered; there were no whites to his eyes. “I want the sword. The sword of Godric Gryffindor. ” Harry’s spirits plummeted.

“You can’t have that, ” he said. “I’m sorry. ”

“Then, ” said the goblin softly, “we have a problem. ” “We can give you something else, ” said Ron eagerly. “I’ll bet the Lestranges have got loads of stuff, you can take your pick once we get into the vault. ”

He had said the wrong thing. Griphook flushed angrily. “I am not a thief, boy! I am not trying to procure treasures to which I have no right! ”

“The sword’s ours —”

“It is not, ” said the goblin.

“We’re Gryffindors, and it was Godric Gryffindor’s —” “And before it was Gryffindor’s, whose was it? ” demanded the goblin, sitting up straight.

“No one’s, ” said Ron. “It was made for him, wasn’t it? ” “No! ” cried the goblin, bristling with anger as he pointed a long finger at Ron. “Wizarding arrogance again! That sword was Ragnuk

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the First’s, taken from him by Godric Gryffindor! It is a lost treasure, a masterpiece of goblinwork! It belongs with the goblins! The sword is the price of my hire, take it or leave it! ”

Griphook glared at them. Harry glanced at the other two, then said, “We need to discuss this, Griphook, if that’s all right. Could you give us a few minutes? ”

The goblin nodded, looking sour.

Downstairs in the empty sitting room, Harry walked to the fire- place, brow furrowed, trying to think what to do. Behind him, Ron said, “He’s having a laugh. We can’t let him have that sword. ”

“It is true? ” Harry asked Hermione. “Was the sword stolen by Gryffindor? ”

“I don’t know, ” she said hopelessly. “Wizarding history often skates over what the wizards have done to other magical races, but there’s no account that I know of that says Gryffindor stole the sword. ” “It’ll be one of those goblin stories, ” said Ron, “about how the wiz- ards are always trying to get one over on them. I suppose we should think ourselves lucky he hasn’t asked for one of our wands. ” “Goblins have got good reason to dislike wizards, Ron, ” said Her- mione. “They’ve been treated brutally in the past. ”

“Goblins aren’t exactly fluffy little bunnies, though, are they? ” said Ron. “They’ve killed plenty of us. They’ve fought dirty too. ” “But arguing with Griphook about whose race is most under- handed and violent isn’t going to make him more likely to help us, is it? ”

There was a pause while they tried to think of a way around the problem. Harry looked out of the window at Dobby’s grave. Luna was arranging sea lavender in a jam jar beside the headstone. “Okay, ” said Ron, and Harry turned back to face him, “how’s

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this? We tell Griphook we need the sword until we get inside the vault, and then he can have it. There’s a fake in there, isn’t there? We switch them, and give him the fake. ”

“Ron, he’d know the difference better than we would! ” said Her- mione. “He’s the only one who realized there had been a swap! ” “Yeah, but we could scarper before he realizes —”

He quailed beneath the look Hermione was giving him. “That, ” she said quietly, “is despicable. Ask for his help, then double-cross him? And you wonder why goblins don’t like wizards, Ron? ”

Ron’s ears had turned red.

“All right, all right! It was the only thing I could think of! What’s your solution, then? ”

“We need to offer him something else, something just as valuable. ”

“Brilliant. I’ll go and get one of our other ancient goblin-made swords and you can gift wrap it. ”

Silence fell between them again. Harry was sure that the goblin would accept nothing but the sword, even if they had something as valuable to offer him. Yet the sword was their one, indispensable weapon against the Horcruxes.

He closed his eyes for a moment or two and listened to the rush of the sea. The idea that Gryffindor might have stolen the sword was unpleasant to him: He had always been proud to be a Gryffindor; Gryffindor had been the champion of Muggle-borns, the wizard who had clashed with the pureblood-loving Slytherin. . . .

“Maybe he’s lying, ” Harry said, opening his eyes again. “Griphook. Maybe Gryffindor didn’t take the sword. How do we know the goblin version of history’s right? ”

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“Does it make a difference? ” asked Hermione.

“Changes how I feel about it, ” said Harry.

He took a deep breath.

“We’ll tell him he can have the sword after he’s helped us get into that vault — but we’ll be careful to avoid telling him exactly

when he can have it. ”

A grin spread slowly across Ron’s face. Hermione, however, looked alarmed.

“Harry, we can’t —”

“He can have it, ” Harry went on, “after we’ve used it on all of the Horcruxes. I’ll make sure he gets it then. I’ll keep my word. ” “But that could be years! ” said Hermione.

“I know that, but he needn’t. I won’t be lying. . . really. ”

Harry met her eyes with a mixture of defiance and shame. He remembered the words that had been engraved over the gateway to Nurmengard: For the Greater Good. He pushed the idea away. What choice did they have?

“I don’t like it, ” said Hermione.

“Nor do I, much, ” Harry admitted.

“Well, I think it’s genius, ” said Ron, standing up again. “Let’s go and tell him. ”

Back in the smallest bedroom, Harry made the offer, careful to phrase it so as not to give any definite time for the handover of the sword. Hermione frowned at the floor while he was speaking; he felt irritated at her, afraid that she might give the game away. However, Griphook had eyes for nobody but Harry.

“I have your word, Harry Potter, that you will give me the sword of Gryffindor if I help you? ”

“Yes, ” said Harry.

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“Then shake, ” said the goblin, holding out his hand. Harry took it and shook. He wondered whether those black eyes saw any misgivings in his own. Then Griphook relinquished him, clapped his hands together, and said, “So. We begin! ”

It was like planning to break into the Ministry all over again. They settled to work in the smallest bedroom, which was kept, ac- cording to Griphook’s preference, in semidarkness.

“I have visited the Lestranges’ vault only once, ” Griphook told them, “on the occasion I was told to place inside it the false sword. It is one of the most ancient chambers. The oldest Wizarding families store their treasures at the deepest level, where the vaults are largest and best protected. . . . ”

They remained shut in the cupboardlike room for hours at a time. Slowly the days stretched into weeks. There was problem after prob- lem to overcome, not least of which was that their store of Polyjuice Potion was greatly depleted.

“There’s really only enough left for one of us, ” said Hermione, tilting the thick mudlike potion against the lamplight.

“That’ll be enough, ” said Harry, who was examining Griphook’s hand-drawn map of the deepest passageways.

The other inhabitants of Shell Cottage could hardly fail to notice that something was going on now that Harry, Ron, and Hermione only emerged for mealtimes. Nobody asked questions, although Harry often felt Bill’s eyes on the three of them at the table, thought- ful, concerned.

The longer they spent together, the more Harry realized that he did not much like the goblin. Griphook was unexpectedly blood- thirsty, laughed at the idea of pain in lesser creatures, and seemed to relish the possibility that they might have to hurt other wizards

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to reach the Lestranges’ vault. Harry could tell that his distaste was shared by the other two, but they did not discuss it: They needed Griphook.

The goblin ate only grudgingly with the rest of them. Even after his legs had mended, he continued to request trays of food in his room, like the still-frail Ollivander, until Bill (following an angry outburst from Fleur) went upstairs to tell him that the arrangement could not continue. Thereafter Griphook joined them at the over- crowded table, although he refused to eat the same food, insisting, instead, on lumps of raw meat, roots, and various fungi.

Harry felt responsible: It was, after all, he who had insisted that the goblin remain at Shell Cottage so that he could question him; his fault that the whole Weasley family had been driven into hiding, that Bill, Fred, George, and Mr. Weasley could no longer work. “I’m sorry, ” he told Fleur, one blustery April evening as he helped her prepare dinner. “I never meant you to have to deal with all of this. ”

She had just set some knives to work, chopping up steaks for Griphook and Bill, who had preferred his meat bloody ever since he had been attacked by Greyback. While the knives sliced away behind her, her somewhat irritable expression softened.

“’Arry, you saved my sister’s life, I do not forget. ”

This was not, strictly speaking, true, but Harry decided against reminding her that Gabrielle had never been in real danger. “Anyway, ” Fleur went on, pointing her wand at a pot of sauce on the stove, which began to bubble at once, “Mr. Ollivander leaves for Muriel’s zis evening. Zat will make zings easier. Ze goblin, ” she scowled a little at the mention of him, “can move downstairs, and you, Ron, and Dean can take zat room. ”

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“We don’t mind sleeping in the living room, ” said Harry, who knew that Griphook would think poorly of having to sleep on the sofa; keeping Griphook happy was essential to their plans. “Don’t worry about us. ” And when she tried to protest he went on, “We’ll be off your hands soon too, Ron, Hermione, and I. We won’t need to be here much longer. ”

“But what do you mean? ” she said, frowning at him, her wand pointing at the casserole dish now suspended in midair. “Of course you must not leave, you are safe ’ere! ”

She looked rather like Mrs. Weasley as she said it, and he was glad that the back door opened at that moment. Luna and Dean entered, their hair damp from the rain outside and their arms full of driftwood.

“. . . and tiny little ears, ” Luna was saying, “a bit like a hippo’s, Daddy says, only purple and hairy. And if you want to call them, you have to hum; they prefer a waltz, nothing too fast. . . . ” Looking uncomfortable, Dean shrugged at Harry as he passed, following Luna into the combined dining and sitting room where Ron and Hermione were laying the dinner table. Seizing the chance to escape Fleur’s questions, Harry grabbed two jugs of pumpkin juice and followed them.

“. . . and if you ever come to our house I’ll be able to show you the horn, Daddy wrote to me about it but I haven’t seen it yet, be- cause the Death Eaters took me from the Hogwarts Express and I never got home for Christmas, ” Luna was saying, as she and Dean relaid the fire.

“Luna, we told you, ” Hermione called over to her. “That horn exploded. It came from an Erumpent, not a Crumple-Horned Snorkack —”