Settled gradually over Harry in the long minutes, like softly falling snow.“I’ve got to go back, haven’t I?”
“That is up to you.”
“I’ve got a choice?”
“Oh yes,” Dumbledore smiled at him. “We are in King’s Cross you say? I think
that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to . . . let’s say . . . board a train.”
“And where would it take me?”
“On,” said Dumbledore simply.
Silence again.
“Voldemort’s got the Elder Wand.”
“True. Voldemort has the Elder Wand.”
“But you want me to go back?”
“I think,” said Dumbledore, “that if you choose to return, there is a chance that he
May be finished for good. I cannot promise it. But I know this, Harry, that you have less
to fear from returning here than he does.”
Harry glanced again at the raw looking thing that trembled and choked in the
Shadow beneath the distant chair.
“Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and above all, those who live
Without love. By returning, you may ensure that fewer souls are maimed, fewer families
are torn apart. If that seems to you a worthy goal, they we saw good-bye for the present.”
Harry nodded and sighed. Leaving this place would not be nearly as hard as
Walking into the forest had been, but it was warm and light and peaceful here, and he
Knew that he was heading back to pain and the fear of more loss. He stood up, and
Dumbledore did the same, and they looked for a long moment into each other’s faces.
“Tell me one last thing,” said Harry, “Is this real? Or has this been happening
inside my head?”
Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry’s
Ears even though the bright mist was descending again, obscuring his figure.
“Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that
mean it is not real?”
The Flaw in the Plan
He was flying facedown on the grond again. The smell of the forest filled his nostrils. He
Could feel
The cold hard ground beneath his cheek, and the hinge of his glasses which have been
Knocked sideways
By the fall cutting into his temple. Every inch of him ached, and the place where Killing
Curse had hit him
Felt like the bruise of an iron-clad punch. He did not stir, but he remained exactly where
He had fallen, with
His left arm bent out at an akward angle and his mouth gaping.
He had expected to hear cheer of triumph and jubilation at his death, but instead
Hurried footsteps,
Whispers, and solicitous murmurs filled the air.
"My Lord... my Lord..."
It was Bellatrix's voice, and she spoke as if to a lover. Harry did not dare open his
Eyes, but allowed
His other senses to explore his predicament. He knew that his wand was still stowed
Beneath his robes because
He could feel it pressed between his chest and the ground. A slight cushioning effect in
The area of his stomach
Told him that the Invisibility Cloak was also there, stuffed out of sight.
"My Lord..."
"That will do," said Voldemort's voice.
More footsteps. Several people were backing away from the same spot. Desperate
To see what was
Happening and why, Harry opened his eyes by a milimeter.
Voldemort seemed to be getting to his feet. Various Death Eaters were hurrying
Away from him,
Returning to the crowd lining the clearing. Bellatrix alone remained behind, kneeling
Beside Voldemort.
Date: 2015-12-11; view: 546
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