Dolores Umbridge 31 страница

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“No, it was definitely a Snorkack horn, ” said Luna serenely. “Daddy told me. It will probably have re-formed by now, they mend themselves, you know. ”

Hermione shook her head and continued laying down forks as Bill appeared, leading Mr. Ollivander down the stairs. The wand- maker still looked exceptionally frail, and he clung to Bill’s arm as the latter supported him, carrying a large suitcase.

“I’m going to miss you, Mr. Ollivander, ” said Luna, approaching the old man.

“And I you, my dear, ” said Ollivander, patting her on the shoulder. “You were an inexpressible comfort to me in that terrible place. ”

“So, au revoir, Mr. Ollivander, ” said Fleur, kissing him on both

cheeks. “And I wonder whezzer you could oblige me by delivering a package to Bill’s Auntie Muriel? I never returned ’er tiara. ”

“It will be an honor, ” said Ollivander with a little bow, “the very least I can do in return for your generous hospitality. ”

Fleur drew out a worn velvet case, which she opened to show the wandmaker. The tiara sat glittering and twinkling in the light from the low-hanging lamp.

“Moonstones and diamonds, ” said Griphook, who had sidled into the room without Harry noticing. “Made by goblins, I think? ” “And paid for by wizards, ” said Bill quietly, and the goblin shot him a look that was both furtive and challenging.

A strong wind gusted against the cottage windows as Bill and Ollivander set off into the night. The rest of them squeezed in around the table; elbow to elbow and with barely enough room to move, they started to eat. The fire crackled and popped in the grate beside them. Fleur, Harry noticed, was merely playing with her food; she glanced at the window every few minutes; however, Bill

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returned before they had finished their first course, his long hair tangled by the wind.

“Everything’s fine, ” he told Fleur. “Ollivander settled in, Mum and Dad say hello. Ginny sends you all her love. Fred and George are driving Muriel up the wall, they’re still operating an Owl-Order business out of her back room. It cheered her up to have her tiara back, though. She said she thought we’d stolen it. ”

“Ah, she eez charmante, your aunt, ” said Fleur crossly, waving

her wand and causing the dirty plates to rise and form a stack in midair. She caught them and marched out of the room.

“Daddy’s made a tiara, ” piped up Luna. “Well, more of a crown, really. ”

Ron caught Harry’s eye and grinned; Harry knew that he was remembering the ludicrous headdress they had seen on their visit to Xenophilius.

“Yes, he’s trying to re-create the lost diadem of Ravenclaw. He thinks he’s identified most of the main elements now. Adding the billywig wings really made a difference —”

There was a bang on the front door. Everyone’s head turned to- ward it. Fleur came running out of the kitchen, looking frightened; Bill jumped to his feet, his wand pointing at the door; Harry, Ron, and Hermione did the same. Silently Griphook slipped beneath the table, out of sight.

“Who is it? ” Bill called.

“It is I, Remus John Lupin! ” called a voice over the howling wind. Harry experienced a thrill of fear; what had happened? “I am a werewolf, married to Nymphadora Tonks, and you, the Secret- Keeper of Shell Cottage, told me the address and bade me come in an emergency! ”

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“Lupin, ” muttered Bill, and he ran to the door and wrenched it open.

Lupin fell over the threshold. He was white-faced, wrapped in a traveling cloak, his graying hair windswept. He straightened up, looked around the room, making sure of who was there, then cried aloud, “It’s a boy! We’ve named him Ted, after Dora’s father! ” Hermione shrieked.

“Wha —? Tonks — Tonks has had the baby? ” “Yes, yes, she’s had the baby! ” shouted Lupin. All around the table came cries of delight, sighs of relief: Hermione and Fleur both squealed, “Congratulations! ” and Ron said, “Blimey, a baby! ” as if he had never heard of such a thing before.

“Yes — yes — a boy, ” said Lupin again, who seemed dazed by his own happiness. He strode around the table and hugged Harry; the scene in the basement of Grimmauld Place might never have happened.

“You’ll be godfather? ” he said as he released Harry. “M-me? ” stammered Harry

“You, yes, of course — Dora quite agrees, no one better —” “I — yeah — blimey —”

Harry felt overwhelmed, astonished, delighted; now Bill was hur- rying to fetch wine, and Fleur was persuading Lupin to join them for a drink.

“I can’t stay long, I must get back, ” said Lupin, beaming around at them all: He looked years younger than Harry had ever seen him. “Thank you, thank you, Bill. ”

Bill had soon filled all of their goblets, they stood and raised them high in a toast.

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“To Teddy Remus Lupin, ” said Lupin, “a great wizard in the making! ”

“’Oo does ’e look like? ” Fleur inquired.

“I think he looks like Dora, but she thinks he is like me. Not much hair. It looked black when he was born, but I swear it’s turned ginger in the hour since. Probably be blond by the time I get back. Andromeda says Tonks’s hair started changing color the day that she was born. ” He drained his goblet. “Oh, go on then, just one more, ” he added, beaming, as Bill made to fill it again.

The wind buffeted the little cottage and the fire leapt and crackled, and Bill was soon opening another bottle of wine. Lupin’s news seemed to have taken them out of themselves, removed them for a while from their state of siege: Tidings of new life were exhilarating. Only the goblin seemed untouched by the suddenly festive atmo- sphere, and after a while he slunk back to the bedroom he now oc- cupied alone. Harry thought he was the only one who had noticed this, until he saw Bill’s eyes following the goblin up the stairs.

“No. . . no. . . I really must get back, ” said Lupin at last, declin- ing yet another goblet of wine. He got to his feet and pulled his traveling cloak back around himself.

“Good-bye, good-bye — I’ll try and bring some pictures in a few days’ time — they’ll all be so glad to know that I’ve seen you —” He fastened his cloak and made his farewells, hugging the women and grasping hands with the men, then, still beaming, returned into the wild night.

“Godfather, Harry! ” said Bill as they walked into the kitchen together, helping clear the table. “A real honor! Congratulations! ” As Harry set down the empty goblets he was carrying, Bill pulled

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the door behind him closed, shutting out the still-voluble voices of the others, who were continuing to celebrate even in Lupin’s absence. “I wanted a private word, actually, Harry. It hasn’t been easy to get an opportunity with the cottage this full of people. ”

Bill hesitated.

“Harry, you’re planning something with Griphook. ” It was a statement, not a question, and Harry did not bother to deny it. He merely looked at Bill, waiting.

“I know goblins, ” said Bill. “I’ve worked for Gringotts ever since I left Hogwarts. As far as there can be friendship between wizards and goblins, I have goblin friends — or, at least, goblins I know well, and like. ” Again, Bill hesitated.

“Harry, what do you want from Griphook, and what have you promised him in return? ”

“I can’t tell you that, ” said Harry. “Sorry, Bill. ” The kitchen door opened behind them; Fleur was trying to bring through more empty goblets.

“Wait, ” Bill told her. “Just a moment. ”

She backed out and he closed the door again.

“Then I have to say this, ” Bill went on. “If you have struck any kind of bargain with Griphook, and most particularly if that bar- gain involves treasure, you must be exceptionally careful. Goblin notions of ownership, payment, and repayment are not the same as human ones. ”

Harry felt a slight squirm of discomfort, as though a small snake had stirred inside him.

“What do you mean? ” he asked.

“We are talking about a different breed of being, ” said Bill.

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“Dealings between wizards and goblins have been fraught for cen- turies — but you’ll know all that from History of Magic. There has been fault on both sides, I would never claim that wizards have been innocent. However, there is a belief among some goblins, and those at Gringotts are perhaps most prone to it, that wizards cannot be trusted in matters of gold and treasure, that they have no respect for goblin ownership. ”

“I respect —” Harry began, but Bill shook his head. “You don’t understand, Harry, nobody could understand unless they have lived with goblins. To a goblin, the rightful and true mas- ter of any object is the maker, not the purchaser. All goblin-made objects are, in goblin eyes, rightfully theirs. ”

“But if it was bought —”

“— then they would consider it rented by the one who had paid the money. They have, however, great difficulty with the idea of goblin-made objects passing from wizard to wizard. You saw Griphook’s face when the tiara passed under his eyes. He disap- proves. I believe he thinks, as do the fiercest of his kind, that it ought to have been returned to the goblins once the original pur- chaser died. They consider our habit of keeping goblin-made objects, passing them from wizard to wizard without further payment, little more than theft. ”

Harry had an ominous feeling now; he wondered whether Bill guessed more than he was letting on.

“All I am saying, ” said Bill, setting his hand on the door back into the sitting room, “is to be very careful what you promise goblins, Harry. It would be less dangerous to break into Gringotts than to renege on a promise to a goblin. ”

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“Right, ” said Harry as Bill opened the door, “yeah. Thanks. I’ll bear that in mind. ”

As he followed Bill back to the others a wry thought came to him, born no doubt of the wine he had drunk. He seemed set on course to become just as reckless a godfather to Teddy Lupin as Sirius Black had been to him.

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heir plans were made, their preparations complete; in the

smallest bedroom a single long, coarse black hair (plucked

from the sweater Hermione had been wearing at Malfoy Manor) lay curled in a small glass phial on the mantelpiece.

“And you’ll be using her actual wand, ” said Harry, nodding to- ward the walnut wand, “so I reckon you’ll be pretty convincing. ” Hermione looked frightened that the wand might sting or bite her as she picked it up.

“I hate this thing, ” she said in a low voice. “I really hate it. It feels

all wrong, it doesn’t work properly for me. . . . It’s like a bit of her. ”

Harry could not help but remember how Hermione had dis- missed his loathing of the blackthorn wand, insisting that he was imagining things when it did not work as well as his own, telling him to simply practice. He chose not to repeat her own advice back to her, however; the eve of their attempted assault on Gringotts felt like the wrong moment to antagonize her.

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“It’ll probably help you get in character, though, ” said Ron. “Think what that wand’s done! ”

“But that’s my point! ” said Hermione. “This is the wand that tortured Neville’s mum and dad, and who knows how many other people? This is the wand that killed Sirius! ”

Harry had not thought of that: He looked down at the wand and was visited by a brutal urge to snap it, to slice it in half with Gryf- findor’s sword, which was propped against the wall beside him.

“I miss my wand, ” Hermione said miserably. “I wish Mr. Olli-

vander could have made me another one too. ”

Mr. Ollivander had sent Luna a new wand that morning. She was out on the back lawn at that moment, testing its capabilities in the late afternoon sun. Dean, who had lost his wand to the Snatchers, was watching rather gloomily.

Harry looked down at the hawthorn wand that had once be- longed to Draco Malfoy. He had been surprised, but pleased, to discover that it worked for him at least as well as Hermione’s had done. Remembering what Ollivander had told them of the secret workings of wands, Harry thought he knew what Hermione’s prob- lem was: She had not won the walnut wand’s allegiance by taking it personally from Bellatrix.

The door of the bedroom opened and Griphook entered. Harry reached instinctively for the hilt of the sword and drew it close to him, but regretted his action at once: He could tell that the gob- lin had noticed. Seeking to gloss over the sticky moment, he said, “We’ve just been checking the last-minute stuff, Griphook. We’ve told Bill and Fleur we’re leaving tomorrow, and we’ve told them not to get up to see us off. ”

They had been firm on this point, because Hermione would need

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to transform into Bellatrix before they left, and the less that Bill and Fleur knew or suspected about what they were about to do, the better. They had also explained that they would not be returning. As they had lost Perkins’s old tent on the night that the Snatchers caught them, Bill had lent them another one. It was now packed inside the beaded bag, which, Harry was impressed to learn, Her- mione had protected from the Snatchers by the simple expedient of stuffing it down her sock.

Though he would miss Bill, Fleur, Luna, and Dean, not to men- tion the home comforts they had enjoyed over the last few weeks, Harry was looking forward to escaping the confinement of Shell Cottage. He was tired of trying to make sure that they were not overheard, tired of being shut in the tiny, dark bedroom. Most of all, he longed to be rid of Griphook. However, precisely how and when they were to part from the goblin without handing over Gryffindor’s sword remained a question to which Harry had no answer. It had been impossible to decide how they were going to do it, because the goblin rarely left Harry, Ron, and Hermione alone together for more than five minutes at a time: “He could give my mother lessons, ” growled Ron, as the goblin’s long fingers kept appearing around the edges of doors. With Bill’s warning in mind, Harry could not help suspecting that Griphook was on the watch for possible skulduggery. Hermione disapproved so heartily of the planned double-cross that Harry had given up attempting to pick her brains on how best to do it; Ron, on the rare occasions that they had been able to snatch a few Griphook-free moments, had come up with nothing better than “We’ll just have to wing it, mate. ”

Harry slept badly that night. Lying awake in the early hours, he thought back to the way he had felt the night before they had

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infiltrated the Ministry of Magic and remembered a determination, almost an excitement. Now he was experiencing jolts of anxiety, nagging doubts: He could not shake off the fear that it was all going to go wrong. He kept telling himself that their plan was good, that Griphook knew what they were facing, that they were well-prepared for all the difficulties they were likely to encounter, yet still he felt uneasy. Once or twice he heard Ron stir and was sure that he too was awake, but they were sharing the sitting room with Dean, so Harry did not speak.

It was a relief when six o’clock arrived and they could slip out of their sleeping bags, dress in the semidarkness, then creep out into the garden, where they were to meet Hermione and Griphook. The dawn was chilly, but there was little wind now that it was May. Harry looked up at the stars still glimmering palely in the dark sky and listened to the sea washing backward and forward against the cliff: He was going to miss the sound.

Small green shoots were forcing their way up through the red earth of Dobby’s grave now; in a year’s time the mound would be covered in flowers. The white stone that bore the elf’s name had al- ready acquired a weathered look. He realized now that they could hardly have laid Dobby to rest in a more beautiful place, but Harry ached with sadness to think of leaving him behind. Looking down on the grave, he wondered yet again how the elf had known where to come to rescue them. His fingers moved absentmindedly to the little pouch still strung around his neck, through which he could feel the jagged mirror fragment in which he had been sure he had seen Dumbledore’s eye. Then the sound of a door opening made him look around.

Bellatrix Lestrange was striding across the lawn toward them,

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accompanied by Griphook. As she walked, she was tucking the small, beaded bag into the inside pocket of another set of the old robes they had taken from Grimmauld Place. Though Harry knew perfectly well that it was really Hermione, he could not suppress a shiver of loathing. She was taller than he was, her long black hair rippling down her back, her heavily lidded eyes disdainful as they rested upon him; but then she spoke, and he heard Hermione through Bellatrix’s low voice.

“She tasted disgusting, worse than Gurdyroots! Okay, Ron, come

here so I can do you. . . . ”

“Right, but remember, I don’t like the beard too long —” “Oh, for heaven’s sake, this isn’t about looking handsome —” “It’s not that, it gets in the way! But I liked my nose a bit shorter, try and do it the way you did last time. ”

Hermione sighed and set to work, muttering under her breath as she transformed various aspects of Ron’s appearance. He was to be given a completely fake identity, and they were trusting to the malevolent aura cast by Bellatrix to protect him. Meanwhile Harry and Griphook were to be concealed under the Invisibility Cloak.

“There, ” said Hermione, “how does he look, Harry? ” It was just possible to discern Ron under his disguise, but only, Harry thought, because he knew him so well. Ron’s hair was now long and wavy; he had a thick brown beard and mustache, no freck- les, a short, broad nose, and heavy eyebrows.

“Well, he’s not my type, but he’ll do, ” said Harry. “Shall we go, then? ”

All three of them glanced back at Shell Cottage, lying dark and silent under the fading stars, then turned and began to walk toward

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the point, just beyond the boundary wall, where the Fidelius Charm stopped working and they would be able to Disapparate. Once past the gate, Griphook spoke.

“I should climb up now, Harry Potter, I think? ” Harry bent down and the goblin clambered onto his back, his hands linked in front of Harry’s throat. He was not heavy, but Harry disliked the feeling of the goblin and the surprising strength with which he clung on. Hermione pulled the Invisibility Cloak out of the beaded bag and threw it over them both.

“Perfect, ” she said, bending down to check Harry’s feet. “I can’t see a thing. Let’s go. ”

Harry turned on the spot, with Griphook on his shoulders, con- centrating with all his might on the Leaky Cauldron, the inn that was the entrance to Diagon Alley. The goblin clung even tighter as they moved into the compressing darkness, and seconds later Harry’s feet found pavement and he opened his eyes on Charing Cross Road. Muggles bustled past wearing the hangdog expressions of early morning, quite unconscious of the little inn’s existence. The bar of the Leaky Cauldron was nearly deserted. Tom, the stooped and toothless landlord, was polishing glasses behind the bar counter; a couple of warlocks having a muttered conversation in the far corner glanced at Hermione and drew back into the shadows.

“Madam Lestrange, ” murmured Tom, and as Hermione passed he inclined his head subserviently.

“Good morning, ” said Hermione, and as Harry crept past, still carrying Griphook piggyback under the Cloak, he saw Tom look surprised.

“Too polite, ” Harry whispered in Hermione’s ear as they passed

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out of the inn into the tiny backyard. “You need to treat people like they’re scum! ”

“Okay, okay! ”

Hermione drew out Bellatrix’s wand and tapped a brick in the nondescript wall in front of them. At once the bricks began to whirl and spin: A hole appeared in the middle of them, which grew wider and wider, finally forming an archway onto the narrow cobbled street that was Diagon Alley.

It was quiet, barely time for the shops to open, and there were hardly any shoppers abroad. The crooked, cobbled street was much altered now from the bustling place Harry had visited before his first term at Hogwarts so many years before. More shops than ever were boarded up, though several new establishments dedicated to the Dark Arts had been created since his last visit. Harry’s own face glared down at him from posters plastered over many windows, al- ways captioned with the words undesirable number one.

A number of ragged people sat huddled in doorways. He heard them moaning to the few passersby, pleading for gold, insisting that they were really wizards. One man had a bloody bandage over his eye.

As they set off along the street, the beggars glimpsed Hermione. They seemed to melt away before her, drawing hoods over their faces and fleeing as fast as they could. Hermione looked after them curiously, until the man with the bloodied bandage came stagger- ing right across her path.

“My children! ” he bellowed, pointing at her. His voice was cracked, high-pitched; he sounded distraught. “Where are my chil-

dren? What has he done with them? You know, you know! ”

“I — I really —” stammered Hermione.

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The man lunged at her, reaching for her throat: Then, with a bang and a burst of red light he was thrown backward onto the ground, unconscious. Ron stood there, his wand still outstretched and a look of shock visible behind his beard. Faces appeared at the windows on either side of the street, while a little knot of prosperous-looking passersby gathered their robes about them and broke into gentle trots, keen to vacate the scene.

Their entrance into Diagon Alley could hardly have been more conspicuous; for a moment Harry wondered whether it might not be better to leave now and try to think of a different plan. Before they could move or consult one another, however, they heard a cry from behind them.

“Why, Madam Lestrange! ”

Harry whirled around and Griphook tightened his hold around Harry’s neck: A tall, thin wizard with a crown of bushy gray hair and a long, sharp nose was striding toward them.

“It’s Travers, ” hissed the goblin into Harry’s ear, but at that mo- ment Harry could not think who Travers was. Hermione had drawn herself up to her fullest height and said with as much contempt as she could muster:

“And what do you want? ”

Travers stopped in his tracks, clearly affronted.

“ He’s another Death Eater! ” breathed Griphook, and Harry sidled

sideways to repeat the information into Hermione’s ear.

“I merely sought to greet you, ” said Travers coolly, “but if my presence is not welcome. . . ”

Harry recognized his voice now; Travers was one of the Death Eaters who had been summoned to Xenophilius’s house.

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“No, no, not at all, Travers, ” said Hermione quickly, trying to cover up her mistake. “How are you? ”

“Well, I confess I am surprised to see you out and about, Bellatrix. ”

“Really? Why? ” asked Hermione.

“Well, ” Travers coughed, “I heard that the inhabitants of Malfoy

Manor were confined to the house, after the. . . ah. . . escape. ”

Harry willed Hermione to keep her head. If this was true, and Bellatrix was not supposed to be out in public —

“The Dark Lord forgives those who have served him most faith- fully in the past, ” said Hermione in a magnificent imitation of Bel- latrix’s most contemptuous manner. “Perhaps your credit is not as good with him as mine is, Travers. ”

Though the Death Eater looked offended, he also seemed less suspicious. He glanced down at the man Ron had just Stunned. “How did it offend you? ”

“It does not matter, it will not do so again, ” said Hermione coolly.

“Some of these wandless can be troublesome, ” said Travers. “While they do nothing but beg I have no objection, but one of them

actually asked me to plead her case at the Ministry last week. ‘ I’m

a witch, sir, I’m a witch, let me prove it to you ! ’” he said in a squeaky

impersonation. “As if I was going to give her my wand — but whose wand, ” said Travers curiously, “are you using at the moment, Bel- latrix? I heard that your own was —”

“I have my wand here, ” said Hermione coldly, holding up Bella- trix’s wand. “I don’t know what rumors you have been listening to, Travers, but you seem sadly misinformed. ”

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Travers seemed a little taken aback at that, and he turned instead to Ron.

“Who is your friend? I do not recognize him. ”

“This is Dragomir Despard, ” said Hermione; they had decided that a fictional foreigner was the safest cover for Ron to assume. “He speaks very little English, but he is in sympathy with the Dark Lord’s aims. He has traveled here from Transylvania to see our new regime. ”

“Indeed? How do you do, Dragomir? ”

“’Ow you? ” said Ron, holding out his hand.

Travers extended two fingers and shook Ron’s hand as though frightened of dirtying himself.

“So what brings you and your — ah — sympathetic friend to Diagon Alley this early? ” asked Travers.

“I need to visit Gringotts, ” said Hermione.

“Alas, I also, ” said Travers. “Gold, filthy gold! We cannot live without it, yet I confess I deplore the necessity of consorting with our long-fingered friends. ”

Harry felt Griphook’s clasped hands tighten momentarily around his neck.

“Shall we? ” said Travers, gesturing Hermione forward. Hermione had no choice but to fall into step beside him and head along the crooked, cobbled street toward the place where the snowy- white Gringotts stood towering over the other little shops. Ron sloped along beside them, and Harry and Griphook followed.

A watchful Death Eater was the very last thing they needed, and the worst of it was, with Travers marching at what he believed to be Bellatrix’s side, there was no means for Harry to communicate with Hermione or Ron. All too soon they arrived at the foot of the

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marble steps leading up to the great bronze doors. As Griphook had already warned them, the liveried goblins who usually flanked the entrance had been replaced by two wizards, both of whom were clutching long thin golden rods.

“Ah, Probity Probes, ” sighed Travers theatrically, “so crude — but effective! ”

And he set off up the steps, nodding left and right to the wiz- ards, who raised the golden rods and passed them up and down his body. The Probes, Harry knew, detected spells of concealment and hidden magical objects. Knowing that he had only seconds; Harry pointed Draco’s wand at each of the guards in turn and murmured,

“ Confundo” twice. Unnoticed by Travers, who was looking through

the bronze doors at the inner hall, each of the guards gave a little start as the spells hit them.

Hermione’s long black hair rippled behind her as she climbed the steps.

“One moment, madam, ” said the guard, raising his Probe. “But you’ve just done that! ” said Hermione in Bellatrix’s com- manding, arrogant voice. Travers looked around, eyebrows raised. The guard was confused. He stared down at the thin golden Probe and then at his companion, who said in a slightly dazed voice, “Yeah, you’ve just checked them, Marius. ”