Гарри Поттер и Кубок огня

Flesh, Blood, and Bone

           Harrycoulddonothingtopreventit,hewastiedtootightly....Squintingdown,strugglinghopelesslyattheropesbindinghim,hesawtheshiningsilverdaggershakinginWormtail’sremaininghand.Hefeltitspointpenetratethecrookofhisrightarmandbloodseepingdownthesleeveofhistornrobes.Wormtail,stillpantingwithpain,rumbledinhispocketforaglassvialandheldittoHarry’scut,sothatadribbleofbloodfellintoit.

           HestaggeredbacktothecauldronwithHarry’sblood.Hepoureditinside.Theliquidwithinturned,instantly,ablindingwhite.Wormtail,hisjobdone,droppedtohiskneesbesidethecauldron,thenslumpedsidewaysandlayontheground,cradlingthebleedingstumpofhisarm,gaspingandsobbing.

           Thecauldronwassimmering,sendingitsdiamondsparksinalldirections,soblindinglybrightthatitturnedallelsetovelvetyblackness.Nothinghappened....

           Letithavedrowned.Harrythought,letithavegonewrong...

           Andthen,suddenly,thesparksemanatingfromthecauldronwereextinguished.Asurgeofwhitesteambillowedthicklyfromthecauldroninstead,obliteratingeverythinginfrontofHarry,sothathecouldn’tseeWormtailorCedricoranythingbutvaporhangingintheair....It’sgonewrong,hethought...it’sdrowned...please...pleaseletitbedead....

           Butthen,throughthemistinfrontofhim,hesaw,withanicysurgeofterror,thedarkoutlineofaman,tallandskeletallythin,risingslowlyfrominsidethecauldron

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