Wondered whether she had sensed someone walking nearby, but he did not speak, and heDid not look back.
Hagrid’s hut loomed out of the darkness. There were no lights, no sound of Fang
Scrabbling at the door, his bark booming in welcome. All those visits to Hagrid, and the
Gleam of the copper kettle on the fire, and rock cakes and giant grubs, and his great
Bearded face, and Ron vomiting slugs, and Hermione helping him save Norbert . . .
He moved on, and now he reached the edge of the forest, and he stopped.
A swarm of dementors was gliding amongst the trees; he could feel their chill,
And he was not sure he would be able to pass safely through it. He had not strength left
For a Patronus. He could no longer control his own trembling. It was not, after all, so easy
To die. Every second he breathed, the smell of the grass, the cool air on his face, was so
precious: To think that people had years and years, time to waste, so much time it
Dragged, and he was clinging to each second. At the same time he thought that he would
Not be able to go on, and knew that he must. The long game was ended, the Snitch had
Been caught, it was time to leave the air. . . .
The Snitch. His nerveless fingers fumbled for a moment with the pouch at his
Neck and he pulled it out.
I open at the close.
Breathing fast and hard, he stared down at it. Now that he wanted time to move as
Slowly as possible, he seemed to have sped up, and understanding was coming so fast it
Seemed to have bypassed though. This was the close. This was the moment.
He pressed the golden metal to his lips and whispered, “I am about to die.”
The metal shell broke open. He lowered his shaking hand, raised Draco’s wand
beneath the Cloak, and murmured, “Lumos.”
The black stone with is jagged crack running down the center sat in the two
Halves of the Snitch. The Resurrection Stone had cracked down the vertical line
Representing the Elder Wand. The triangle and circle representing the Cloak and the stone
Were still discernible.
And again Harry understood without having to think. It did not matter about
bringing them back, for he was about to join them. He was not really fetching them: They
Were fetching him.
He closed his eyes and turned the stone over in his hand three times.
He knew it had happened, because he heard slight movements around him that
Suggested frail bodies shifting their footing on the earthy, twig-strewn ground that
Marked the outer edge of the forest. He opened his eyes and looked around.
They were neither ghost nor truly flesh, he could see that. They resembled most
Closely the Riddle that had escaped from the diary so long ago, and he had been memory
Made nearly solid. Less substantial than living bodies, but much more than ghosts, they
Moved toward him. And on each face, there was the same loving smile.
James was exactly the same height as Harry. He was wearing the clothes in which
He had died, and his hair was untidy and ruffled, and his glasses were a little lopsided,
like Mr. Weasley’s.
Sirius was tall and handsome, and younger by far than Harry had seen him in life.
He loped with an easy grace, his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.
Date: 2015-12-11; view: 578
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