Dobby nodded again.

“Right. Dobby, I want you to grab Luna, Dean, and Mr. Ollivander, and take them

– take them to –“

“Bill and Fleur’s,” said Ron. “Shell Cottage on the outskirts of Tinworth!”

The elf nodded for a third time.

“And then come back,” said Harry. “Can you do that, Dobby?”

“Of course, Harry Potter,” whispered the little elf. He hurried over to Mr.

Ollivander, who appeared to be barely conscious. He took one of the wandmaker’s hands

In his own, then held out the other to Luna and Dean, neither of whom moved.

“Harry, we want to help you!” Luna whispered.

“We can’t leave you here,” said Dean.

“Go, both of you! We’ll see you at Bill and Fleur’s.”

As Harry spoke, his scar burned worse than ever, and for a few seconds he looked

Down, not upon the wandmaker, but on another man who was just as old, just as thin, but

Laughing scornfully.

“Kill me, then. Voldemort, I welcome death! But my death will not bring you what

you seek. . . . There is so much you do not understand. . .”

He felt Voldemort’s fury, but as Hermione screamed again he shut it out,

Returning to the cellar and the horror of his own present.

“Go!” Harry beseeched to Luna and Dean. “Go! We’ll follow, just go!”

They caught hold of the elf’s outstretched fingers. There was another loud crack,

And Dobby, Luna, Dean, and Ollivander vanished.

“What was that?” shouted Lucius Malfoy from over their heads. “Did you hear

that? What was that noise in the cellar?”

Harry and Ron stared at each other.

“Draco – no, call Wormtail! Make him go and check!”

Footsteps crossed the room overhead, then there was silence. Harry knew that the

People in the drawing room were listening for more noises from the cellar.

“We’re going to have to try and tackle him,” he whispered to Ron. They had no

choice: The moment anyone entered the room and saw the absence of three prisoners,

they were lost. “Leave the lights on,” Harry added, and as they heard someone

Descending the steps outside the door, they backed against the wall on either side of it.

“Stand back,” came Wormtail’s voice. “Stand away from the door. I’m coming

in.”

The door flew open. For a split second Wormtail gazed into the apparently empty cellar,

Ablaze with light from the three miniature suns floating in midair. Then Harry and Ron

launched themselves upon him. Ron seized Wormtail’s wand arm and forced it upwards.

Harry slapped a hand to his mouth, muffling his voice. Silently they struggled:

Wormtail’s wand emitted sparks; his silver hand closed around Harry’s throat.

“What is it, Wormtail?” called Lucius Malfoy from above.

“Nothing!” Ron called back, in a passable imitation of Wormtail’s wheezy voice.

“All fine!”

Harry could barely breathe.

“You’re going to kill me?” Harry choked, attempting to prise off the metal fingers.

“After I saved your life? You owe me, Wormtail!”

The silver fingers slackened. Harry had not expected it: He wrenched himself free,

astonished, keeping his hand over Wormtail’s mouth. He saw the ratlike man’s small

watery eyes widen with fear and surprise: He seemed just as shocked as Harry at what his

Hand had done, at the tiny, merciful impulse it had betrayed, and he continued to struggle

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 580