Listening to the sounds of the forest, to distant crackles of twigs, soft swishes of snow.

Was he about to be attacked? Had she enticed him into an ambush? Was he imagining

that somebody stood beyond the reach of the wandlight, watching him?

He held the wand higher. Nobody ran out at him, no flash of green light burst

from behind a tree. Why, then, had she led him to this spot?

Something gleamed in the light of the wand, and Harry spun about, but all that

Was there was a small, frozen pool, its black, cracked surface glittering as he raised his

Wand higher to examine it.

He moved forward rather cautiously and looked down. The ice reflected his

Distorted shadow and the beam of wandlight, but deep below the thick, misty gray

Carapace, something else glinted. A great silver cross...

His heart skipped into his mouth: He dropped to his knees at the pool's edge and

Angled the wand so as to flood the bottom of the pool with as much light as possible. A

Glint of deep red...It was a sword with glittering rubies in its hilt....The sword of

Gryffindor was lying at the bottom of the forest pool.

Barely breathing, he stared down at it. How was this possible? How could it

have come to be lying in a forest pool, this close to the place where they were camping?

Had some unknown magic drawn Hermione to this spot, or was the doe, which he had

taken to be a Patronus, some kind of guardian of the pool? Or had the sword been put

into the pool after they had arrived, precisely because they were here? In which case,

where was the person who wanted to pass it to Harry? Again he directed the wand at the

Surrounding trees and bushes, searching for a human outline, for the glint of an eye, but

He could not see anyone there. All the same, a little more fear leavened his exhilaration

As he returned his attention to the sword reposing upon the bottom of the frozen pool.

He pointed the wand at the silvery shape and murmured, "Accio Sword."

It did not stir. He had not expected it to. If it had been that easy the sword would

Have lain on the ground for him to pick up, not in the depths of a frozen pool. He set off

Around the circle of ice, thinking hard about the last time the sword had delivered itself to

Him. He had been in terrible danger then, and had asked for help.

"Help," he murmured, but the sword remained upon the pool bottom, indifferent,

Motionless.

What was it, Harry asked himself (walking again), that Dumbledore had told him

the last time he had retrieved the sword? Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that

out of the hat. And what were the qualities that defined a Gryffindor? A small voice

inside Harry's head answered him: Their daring nerve and chivalry set Gryffindor apart.

Harry stopped walking and let out a long sigh, his smoky breath dispersing

Rapidly upon the frozen air. He knew what he had to do. If he was honest with himself,

He had thought it might come to this from the moment he had spotted the sword through

The ice.

He glanced around at the surrounding trees again, but was convinced now that

Nobody was going to attack him. They had had their chance as he walked alone through

The forest, had had plenty of opportunity as he examined the pool. The only reason to

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 802