Around, trying to work some of it off.

"I'm not trying to defend what Dumbledore wrote," said Hermione. "All that 'right

to rule' rubbish, it's 'Magic Is Might' all over again. But Harry, his mother had just died,

he was stuck alone in the house ---"

"Alone? He wasn't alone! He had his brother and sister for company, his Squib

sister he was keeping locked up ---"

"I don't believe it," said Hermione. She stood up too. "Whatever was wrong with that

girl, I don't think she was a Squib. The Dumbledore we knew would never, ever have

allowed---"

"The Dumbledore we thought we knew didn't want to conquer Muggles by force!"

Harry shouted, his voice echoing across the empty hilltop, and several blackbirds rose

Into the air, squawking and spiraling against the pearly sky.

"He changed, Harry, he changed! It's as simple as that! Maybe he did believe

These things when he was seventeen, but the whole of the rest of his life was devoted to

fighting the Dark Arts! Dumbledore was the one who stopped Grindelwald, the one who

Always voted for Muggle protection and Muggle born rights, who fought You-Know-

Who from the start, and who died trying to bring him down!"

Rita's book lay on the ground between them, so that the face of Albus

Dumbledore smiled dolefully at both.

"Harry, I'm sorry, but I think the real reason you're so angry is that Dumbledore

never told you any of this himself."

"Maybe I am!" Harry bellowed, and he flung his arms over his head, hardly

Knowing whether he was trying to hold in his anger or protect himself from the weight of

his own disillusionment. "Look what he asked from me, Hermione! Risk your life, Harry!

And again! And again! And don't expect me to explain everything, just trust me blindly,

trust that I know what I'm doing, trust me even though I don't trust you! Never the whole

truth! Never!"

His voice cracked with the strain, and they stood looking at each other in the

Whiteness and emptiness, and Harry felt they were as insignificant as insects beneath that

Wide sky.

"He loved you," Hermione whispered. "I know he loved you."

Harry dropped his arms.

"I don't know who he loved, Hermione, but it was never me. This isn't love, the

mess he's left me in. He shared a damn sight more of what he was really thinking with

Gellert Grindelwald than he ever shared with me."

Harry picked up Hermione's wand, which he had dropped in the snow, and sat

Back down in the entrance of the tent.

"Thanks for the tea. I'll finish the watch. You get back in the warm."

She hesitated, but recognized the dismissal. She picked up the book and then walked

Back past him into the tent, but as she did so, she brushed the top of his head lightly with

Her hand. He closed his eyes at her touch, and hated himself for wishing that what she

said was true: that Dumbledore had really cared.

The Silver Doe

It was snowing by the time Hermione took over the watch at midnight. Harry's

dreams were confused and disturbing: Nagini wove in and out of them, first through a

Wreath of Christmas roses. He woke repeatedly, panicky, convinced that somebody had

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 797