Гарри Поттер и Дары Смерти

Bathilda’s Secret

           "Theyshouldn’thavewrittenonthesign!"saidHermione,indignant.

           ButHarrybeamedather.

           "It’sbrilliant.I’mgladtheydid.I..."

           Hebrokeoff.Aheavilymuffledfigurewashobblingupthelanetowardthem,silhouettedbythebrightlightsinthedistantsquare.Harrythought,thoughitwashardtojudge,thatthefigurewasawoman.Shewasmovingslowly,possiblyfrightenedofslippingonthesnowyground.Herstoop,herstoutness,hershufflinggaitallgaveanimpressionofextremeage.Theywatchedinsilenceasshedrewnearer.Harrywaswaitingtoseewhethershewouldturnintoanyofthecottagesshewaspassing,butheknewinstinctivelythatshewouldnot.Atlastshecametoahaltafewyardsfromthemandsimplystoodthereinthemiddleofthefrozenroad,facingthem.

           HedidnotneedHermione’spinchtohisarm.TherewasnexttonochancethatthiswomanwasaMuggle:Shewasstandingtheregazingatahousethatoughttohavebeencompletelyinvisibletoher,ifshewasnotawitch.Evenassumingthatshewasawitch,however,itwasoddbehaviortocomeoutonanightthiscold,simplytolookatanoldruin.Byalltherulesofnormalmagic,meanwhile,sheoughtnottobeabletoseeHermioneandhimatall.Nevertheless,Harryhadthestrangestfeelingthatsheknewthattheywerethere,andalsowhotheywere.Justashehadreachedthisuneasyconclusion,sheraisedaglovedhandandbeckoned.

           HermionemovedclosertohimundertheCloak,herarmpressedagainsthis.

           "Howdoessheknow?"

           Heshookhishead.

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