Voldemort was at the gates of Hogwarts; Harry could see him standing there, and

See too the lamp bobbing in the pre-dawn, coming 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?”

“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. “Hermione’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 visible 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 billowing 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 outlines of the

Beloved castle, his first kingdom, his birthright. . . .

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 as 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, buried 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.

Shell Cottage

Bill 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

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 754