Had not told them what he had seen and felt; it made Voldemort more threatening, as

Though he were pressing against the window of the room, and still the pain in his scar was

building and he fought it: It was like resisting the urge to be sick.

He turned his back on Ron and Hermione, pretending to examine the old tapestry

of the Black family tree on the wall. Then Hermione shrieked: Harry drew his wand again

And spun around to see a silver Patronus soar through the drawing room window and land

Upon the floor in front of them, where it solidified into the weasel that spoke with the

voice of Ron’s father.

“Family safe, do not reply, we are being watched.”

The Patronus dissolved into nothingness. Ron let out a noise between a whimper

and a groan and dropped onto the sofa: Hermione joined him, gripping his arm.

“They’re all right, they’re all right!” she whispered, and Ron half laughed and

Hugged her.

“Harry,” he said over Hermione’s shoulder, “I –“

“It’s not a problem,” said Harry, sickened by the pain in his head. “It’s your

family, ‘course you were worried. I’d feel the same way.” He thought of Ginny. “I do feel

the same way.”

The pain in his scar was reaching a peak, burning as it had back in the garden of

the Burrow. Faintly he heard Hermione say “I don’t want to be on my own. Could we use

the sleeping bags I’ve brought and camp in here tonight?”

He heard Ron agree. He could not fight the pain much longer. He had to succumb.

“Bathroom,” he muttered, and he left the room as fast as he could without running.

He barely made it: Bolting the door behind him with trembling hands, he grasped

His pounding head and fell to the floor, then in an explosion of agony, he felt the rage that

Did not belong to him possess his soul, saw a long room lit only by firelight, and the giant

Blond Death Eater on the floor, screaming and writhing, and a slighter figure standing

Over him, wand outstretched, while Harry spoke in a high, cold, merciless voice.

“More, Rowle, or shall we end it and feed you to Nagini? Lord Voldemort is not

Sure that he will forgive this time. . . . You called me back for this, to tell me that Harry

Potter has escaped again? Draco, give Rowle another taste of our displeasure. . . . Do it,

or feel my wrath yourself!”

A log fell in the fire: Flames reared, their light darting across a terrified, pointed

white face – with a sense of emerging from deep water, Harry drew heaving breaths and

Opened his eyes.

He was spread-eagled on the cold black marble floor, his nose inches from one of

the silver serpent tails that supported the large bathtub. He sat up. Malfoy’s gaunt,

Petrified face seemed burned on the inside of his eyes. Harry felt sickened by what he had

Seen, by the use to which Draco was now being put by Voldemort.

There was a sharp rap on the door, and Harry jumped as Hermione’s voice rang

Out.

“Harry, do you want your toothbrush? I’ve got it here.”

“Yeah, great, thanks,” he said, fighting to keep his voice casual as he stood up to

Let her in.

Kreacher’s Tale

Harry woke early next morning, wrapped in a sleeping bag on the drawing room

Floor. A chink of sky was visible between the heavy curtains. It was the cool, clear blue

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 892