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- Джоан Роулинг
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- Гарри Поттер и Дары Смерти
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- Стр. 309/732
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Now
that
he
was
so
near
,
he
wondered
whether
he
wanted
to
see
after
all
.
Perhaps
Hermione
knew
how
he
was
feeling
,
because
she
reached
for
his
hand
and
took
the
lead
for
the
first
time
,
pulling
him
forward
.
Halfway
across
the
square
,
however
,
she
stopped
dead
.
"
Harry
,
look
!
"
She
was
pointing
at
the
war
memorial
.
As
they
had
passed
it
,
it
had
transformed
.
Instead
of
an
obelisk
covered
in
names
,
there
was
a
statue
of
three
people
:
a
man
with
untidy
hair
and
glasses
,
a
woman
with
long
hair
and
a
kind
,
pretty
face
,
and
a
baby
boy
sitting
in
his
mother
's
arms
.
Snow
lay
upon
all
their
heads
,
like
fluffy
white
caps
.
Harry
drew
closer
,
gazing
up
into
his
parents
'
faces
.
He
had
never
imagined
that
there
would
be
a
statue
...
How
strange
it
was
to
see
himself
represented
in
stone
,
a
happy
baby
without
a
scar
on
his
forehead
...
"
C'mon
,
"
said
Harry
,
when
he
had
looked
his
fill
,
and
they
turned
again
toward
the
church
.
As
they
crossed
the
road
,
he
glanced
over
his
shoulder
;
the
statue
had
turned
back
into
the
war
memorial
.
The
singing
grew
louder
as
they
approached
the
church
.
It
made
Harry
's
throat
constrict
,
it
reminded
him
so
forcefully
of
Hogwarts
,
of
Peeves
bellowing
rude
versions
of
carols
from
inside
suits
of
armor
,
of
the
Great
Hall
's
twelve
Christmas
trees
,
of
Dumbledore
wearing
a
bonnet
he
had
won
in
a
cracker
,
of
Ron
in
a
hand-knitted
sweater
...
There
was
a
kissing
gate
at
the
entrance
to
the
graveyard
.
Hermione
pushed
it
open
as
quietly
as
possible
and
they
edged
through
it
.
On
either
side
of
the
slippery
path
to
the
church
doors
,
the
snow
lay
deep
and
untouched
.
They
moved
off
through
the
snow
,
carving
deep
trenches
behind
them
as
they
walked
around
the
building
,
keeping
to
the
shadows
beneath
the
brilliant
windows
.
Behind
the
church
,
row
upon
row
of
snowy
tombstones
protruded
from
a
blanket
of
pale
blue
that
was
flecked
with
dazzling
red
,
gold
,
and
green
wherever
the
reflections
from
the
stained
glass
hit
the
snow
.
Keeping
his
hand
closed
tightly
on
the
wand
in
his
jacket
pocket
,
Harry
moved
toward
the
nearest
grave
.
"
Look
at
this
,
it
's
an
Abbott
,
could
be
some
long-lost
relation
of
Hannah
's
!
"
