Granted this highest honor.

Harry’s scar seared again –

– and he rose into the night, flying straight up to the windows at the very top of

the tower –

“. . . completely sure it’s him? ‘Cause if it ain’t, Greyback, we’re dead.”

“Who’s in charge here?” roared Greyback, covering his moment of inadequacy. “I

say that’s Potter, and him plus his wand, that’s two hundred thousand Galleons right

there! But if you’re too gutless to come along, any of you, it’s all for me, and with any

luck, I’ll get the girl thrown in!”

– The window was the merest slit in the black rock, not big enough for a man to

Enter. . . . A skeletal figure was just visible through it, curled beneath a blanket. . . . Dead,

or sleeping . . . ?

“All right!” said Scabior. “All right, we’re in! And what about the rest of ‘em,

Greyback, what’ll we do with ‘em?”

“Might as well take the lot. We’ve got two Mudbloods, that’s another ten

Galleons. Give me the sword as well. If they’re rubies, that’s another small fortune right

there.”

The prisoners were dragged to their feet. Harry could hear Hermione’s breathing,

Fast and terrified.

“Grab hold and make it tight. I’ll do Potter!” said Greyback, seizing a fistful of

Harry’s hair; Harry could feel his long yellow nails scratching his scalp. “On three! One –

two – three –“

They Disapparated, pulling the prisoners with them. Harry struggled, trying to

throw off Greyback’s hand, but it was hopeless: Ron and Hermione were squeezed tightly

Against him on either side; he could not separate from the group, and as the breath was

squeezed out of him his scar seared more painfully still –

– as he forced himself through the slit of a window like a snake and landed,

lightly as vapor inside the cell-like room –

The prisoners lurched into one another as they landed in a country lane. Harry’s

Eyes, still puffy, took a moment to acclimatize, then he saw a pair of wrought-iron gates

At the foot of what looked like a long drive. He experienced the tiniest trickle of relief.

The worst had not happened yet: Voldemort was not here. He was, Harry knew, for he

Was fighting to resist the vision, in some strange, fortresslike place, at the top of a tower.

How long it would take Voldemort to get to this place, once he knew that Harry was here,

Was another matter. . . .

One of the Snatchers strode to the gates and shook them.

“How do we get in? They’re locked, Greyback, I can’t – blimey!”

He whipped his hands away in fright. The iron was contorting, twisting itself out

Of the abstract furls and coils into a frightening face, which spoke in a clanging, echoing

voice. “State your purpose!”

“We’ve got Potter!” Greyback roared triumphantly. “We’ve captured Harry

Potter!”

The gates swung open.

“Come on!” said Greyback to his men, and the prisoners were shunted through the

Gates and up the drive, between high hedges that muffled their footsteps. Harry saw a

Ghostly white shape above him, and realized it was an albino peacock. He stumbled and

Was dragged onto his feet by Greyback; now he was staggering along sideways, tied

Back-to-back to the four other prisoner. Closing his puffy eyes, he allowed the pain in his

Scar to overcome him for a moment, wanting to know what Voldemort was doing,

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 678