Гарри Поттер и Дары Смерти

The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore

           Timidlyshepusheditontohislap,apristinecopyofTheLifeandLiesofAlbusDumbledore.

           "Wherehow?"

           "ItwasinBathilda’ssittingroom,justlyingthere....Thisnotewasstickingoutofthetopofit."

           Hermionereadthefewlinesofspiky,acid-greenwritingaloud.

           "‘DearBatty,Thanksforyourhelp.Here’sacopyofthebook,hopeyoulikeit.Yousaideverything,evenifyoudon’trememberit.Rita.’IthinkitmusthavearrivedwhiletherealBathildawasalive,butperhapsshewasn’tinanyfitstatetoreadit?"

           "No,sheprobablywasn’t."

           HarrylookeddownuponDumbledore’sfaceandexperiencedasurgeofsavagepleasure:NowhewouldknowallthethingsthatDumbledorehadneverthoughtitworthtellinghim,whetherDumbledorewantedhimtoornot.

           "You’restillreallyangryatme,aren’tyou?"saidHermione;helookeduptoseefreshtearsleakingoutofhereyes,andknewthathisangermusthaveshowninhisface.

           "No,"hesaidquietly."No,Hermione,Iknowitwasanaccident.Youweretryingtogetusoutoftherealive,andyouwereincredible.I’dbedeadifyouhadn’tbeentheretohelpme."

           Hetriedtoreturnherwaterysmile,thenturnedhisattentiontothebook.Itsspinewasstiff;ithadclearlyneverbeenopenedbefore.Heriffledthroughthepages,lookingforphotographs.Hecameacrosstheonehesoughtalmostatonce,theyoungDumbledoreandhishandsomecompanion,roaringwithlaughteratsomelong-forgottenjoke.Harrydroppedhiseyestothecaption.

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