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- Джоан Роулинг
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- Гарри Поттер и Дары Смерти
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- Стр. 276/732
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"
What
?
What
did
you
see
?
"
demanded
Ron
,
whenever
he
noticed
Harry
wince
.
"
A
face
,
"
muttered
Harry
,
every
time
.
"
The
same
face
.
The
thief
who
stole
from
Gregorovitch
.
"
And
Ron
would
turn
away
,
making
no
effort
to
hide
his
disappointment
.
Harry
knew
that
Ron
was
hoping
to
hear
news
of
his
family
or
of
the
rest
of
the
Order
of
the
Phoenix
,
but
after
all
,
he
,
Harry
,
was
not
a
television
aerial
;
he
could
only
see
what
Voldemort
was
thinking
at
the
time
,
not
tune
in
to
whatever
took
his
fancy
.
Apparently
Voldemort
was
dwelling
endlessly
on
the
unknown
youth
with
the
gleeful
face
,
whose
name
and
whereabouts
,
Harry
felt
sure
,
Voldemort
knew
no
better
than
he
did
.
As
Harry
's
scar
continued
to
burn
and
the
merry
,
blond-haired
boy
swam
tantalizingly
in
his
memory
,
he
learned
to
suppress
any
sign
of
pain
or
discomfort
,
for
the
other
two
showed
nothing
but
impatience
at
the
mention
of
the
thief
.
He
could
not
entirely
blame
them
,
when
they
were
so
desperate
for
a
lead
on
the
Horcruxes
.
As
the
days
stretched
into
weeks
,
Harry
began
to
suspect
that
Ron
and
Hermione
were
having
conversations
without
,
and
about
,
him
.
Several
times
they
stopped
talking
abruptly
when
Harry
entered
the
tent
,
and
twice
he
came
accidentally
upon
them
,
huddled
a
little
distance
away
,
heads
together
and
talking
fast
;
both
times
they
fell
silent
when
they
realized
he
was
approaching
them
and
hastened
to
appear
busy
collecting
wood
or
water
.
Harry
could
not
help
wondering
whether
they
had
only
agreed
to
come
on
what
now
felt
like
a
pointless
and
rambling
journey
because
they
thought
he
had
some
secret
plan
that
they
would
learn
in
due
course
.
Ron
was
making
no
effort
to
hide
his
bad
mood
,
and
Harry
was
starting
to
fear
that
Hermione
too
was
disappointed
by
his
poor
leadership
.
In
desperation
he
tried
to
think
of
further
Horcrux
locations
,
but
the
only
one
that
continued
to
occur
to
him
was
Hogwarts
,
and
as
neither
of
the
others
thought
this
at
all
likely
,
he
stopped
suggesting
it
.
Autumn
rolled
over
the
countryside
as
they
moved
through
it
:
They
were
now
pitching
the
tent
on
mulches
of
fallen
leaves
.
Natural
mists
joined
those
cast
by
the
dementors
;
wind
and
rain
added
to
their
troubles
.
The
fact
that
Hermione
was
getting
better
at
identifying
edible
fungi
could
not
altogether
compensate
for
their
continuing
isolation
,
the
lack
of
other
people
's
company
,
or
their
total
ignorance
of
what
was
going
on
in
the
war
against
Voldemort
.
"
My
mother
,
"
said
Ron
one
night
,
as
they
sat
in
the
tent
on
a
riverbank
in
Wales
,
"
can
make
good
food
appear
out
of
thin
air
.
"
He
prodded
moodily
at
the
lumps
of
charred
gray
fish
on
his
plate
.
Harry
glanced
automatically
at
Ron
's
neck
and
saw
,
as
he
had
expected
,
the
golden
chain
of
the
Horcrux
glinting
there
.
He
managed
to
fight
down
the
impulse
to
swear
at
Ron
,
whose
attitude
would
,
he
knew
,
improve
slightly
when
the
time
came
to
take
off
the
locket
.
