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- Джоан Роулинг
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- Гарри Поттер и Дары Смерти
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- Стр. 485/732
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"
I
shall
join
you
in
the
castle
shortly
,
"
he
said
in
his
high
,
cold
voice
.
"
Leave
me
now
.
"
Snape
bowed
and
set
off
back
up
the
path
,
his
black
cloak
billowing
behind
him
.
Harry
walked
slowly
,
waiting
for
Snape
's
figure
to
disappear
.
It
would
not
do
for
Snape
,
or
indeed
anyone
else
,
to
see
where
he
was
going
.
But
there
were
no
lights
in
the
castle
windows
,
and
he
could
conceal
himself
...
and
in
a
second
he
had
cast
upon
himself
a
Disillusionment
Charm
that
hid
him
even
from
his
own
eyes
.
And
he
walked
on
,
around
the
edge
of
the
lake
,
taking
in
the
outlines
of
the
beloved
castle
,
his
first
kingdom
,
his
birthright
...
And
here
it
was
,
beside
the
lake
,
reflected
in
the
dark
waters
.
The
white
marble
tomb
,
an
unnecessary
blot
on
the
familiar
landscape
.
He
felt
again
that
rush
of
controlled
euphoria
,
that
heady
sense
of
purpose
in
destruction
.
He
raised
the
old
yew
wand
:
How
fitting
that
this
would
be
its
last
great
act
.
The
tomb
split
open
from
head
to
foot
.
The
shrouded
figure
was
as
long
as
thin
as
it
had
been
in
life
.
He
raised
the
wand
again
.
The
wrappings
fell
open
.
The
face
was
translucent
,
pale
,
sunken
,
yet
almost
perfectly
preserved
.
They
had
left
his
spectacles
on
the
crooked
nose
:
He
felt
amused
derision
.
Dumbledore
's
hands
were
folded
upon
his
chest
,
and
there
it
lay
,
clutched
beneath
them
,
buried
with
him
Had
the
old
fool
imagined
that
marble
or
death
would
protect
the
wand
?
Had
he
thought
that
the
Dark
Lord
would
be
scared
to
violate
his
tomb
?
The
spiderlike
hand
swooped
and
pulled
the
wand
from
Dumbledore
's
grasp
,
and
as
he
took
it
,
a
shower
of
sparks
flew
from
its
tip
,
sparkling
over
the
corpse
of
its
last
owner
,
ready
to
serve
a
new
master
at
last
.
Bill
and
Fleur
's
cottage
stood
alone
on
a
cliff
overlooking
the
sea
,
its
walls
embedded
with
shells
and
whitewashed
.
It
was
a
lonely
and
beautiful
place
.
Wherever
Harry
went
inside
the
tiny
cottage
or
its
garden
,
he
could
hear
the
constant
ebb
and
flow
of
the
sea
,
like
the
breathing
of
some
great
,
slumbering
creature
.
He
spent
much
of
the
next
few
days
making
excuses
to
escape
the
crowded
cottage
,
craving
the
cliff-top
view
of
open
sky
and
wide
,
empty
sea
,
and
the
feel
of
cold
,
salty
wind
on
his
face
.
The
enormity
of
his
decision
not
to
race
Voldemort
to
the
wand
still
scared
Harry
.
He
could
not
remember
,
ever
before
,
choosing
not
to
act
.
He
was
full
of
doubts
,
doubts
that
Ron
could
not
help
voicing
whenever
they
were
together
.
"
What
if
Dumbledore
wanted
us
to
work
out
the
symbol
in
time
to
get
the
wand
?
"
"
What
if
working
out
what
the
symbol
meant
made
you
'
worthy
'
to
get
the
Hallows
?
"
"
Harry
,
if
that
really
is
the
Elder
Wand
,
how
the
hell
are
we
supposed
to
finish
off
You-Know-Who
?
"
Harry
had
no
answers
:
There
were
moments
when
he
wondered
whether
it
had
been
outright
madness
not
to
try
to
prevent
Voldemort
breaking
open
the
tomb
.
He
could
not
even
explain
satisfactorily
why
he
had
decided
against
it
:
Every
time
he
tried
to
reconstruct
the
internal
arguments
that
had
led
to
his
decision
,
they
sounded
feebler
to
him
.
