Mother and father and Sirius and Lupin stood. Apparently they could not see anything.

“Definitely heard something,” said Yaxley. “Animal, d’you reckon?”

“That head case Hagrid kept a whole bunch of stuff in here,” said Dolohov,

Glancing over his shoulder.

Yaxley looked down at his watch.

“Time’s nearly up. Porter’s had his hour. He’s not coming.”

“Better go back,” said Yaxley. “Find out what the plan is now.”

He and Dolohov turned and walked deeper into the forest. Harry followed them,

Knowing that they would lead him exactly where he wanted to go. He glanced sideways,

And his mother smiled at him, and his father nodded encouragement.

They had traveled on mere minutes when Harry saw light ahead, and Yaxley and

Dolohov stepped out into a clearing that Harry knew had been the place where the

Monstrous Aragog had once lived. The remnants of his vast web were there still, but the

Swarms of descendants he had spawned had been driven out by the Death Eaters, to fight

For their cause.

A fire burned in the middle of the clearing, and its flickering light fell over a

Crowd of completely silent, watchful Death Eaters. Some of them were still masked and

Hooded; others showed their faces. Two giants sat on the outskirts of the group, casting

Massive shadows over the scene, their faces cruel, rough-hewn like rock. Harry saw

Fenrir, skulking, chewing his long nails; the great blond Rowle was dabbing at his

Bleeding lip. He saw Lucius Malfoy, who looked defeated and terrified, and Narcissa,

Whose eyes were sunken and full of apprehension.

Every eye was fixed upon Voldemort, who stood with his head bowed, and his

White hands folded over the Elder Wand in front of him. He might have been praying, or

Else counting silently in his mind, and Harry, standing still on the edge of the scene,

Though absurdly of a child counting in a game of hide-and-seek. Behind his head, still

Swirling and coiling, the great snake Nagini floated in her glittering, charmed cage, like a

Monstrous halo.

When Dolohov and Yaxley rejoined the circle, Voldemort looked up.

“No sign of him, my Lord,” said Dolohov.

Voldemort’s expression did not change. The red eyes seemed to burn in the

Firelight. Slowly he drew the Elder Wand between his long fingers.

“My Lord ---“

Bellatrix had spoken: She sat closest to Voldemort, disheveled, her face a little

Bloody but otherwise unharmed.

Voldemort raised his hand to silence her, and she did not speak another word, but

Eyed him in worshipful fascination.

“I thought he would come,” said Voldemort in his high, clear voice, his eyes on

the leaping flames. “I expected him to come.”

Nobody spoke. They seemed as scared as Harry, whose heart was now throwing

Itself against his ribs as though determined to escape the body he was about to cast aside.

His hands were sweating as he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it beneath his

Robes, with his wand. He did not want to be tempted to fight.

“I was, it seems . . . mistaken,” said Voldemort.

“You weren’t.”

Harry said it as loudly as he could, with all the force he could muster: He did not

Want to sound afraid. The Resurrection Stone slipped from between his numb fingers, and

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 597