Гарри Поттер и Дары Смерти

The Silver Doe

           Thoughthedarknesshadswallowedherwhole,herburnishedimagewasstillimprintedonhisretinas;itobscuredhisvision,brighteningwhenheloweredhiseyelids,disorientinghim.Nowfearcame:Herpresencehadmeantsafety.

           "Lumos!"hewhispered,andthewand-tipignited.

           Theimprintofthedoefadedawaywitheveryblinkofhiseyesashestoodthere,listeningtothesoundsoftheforest,todistantcracklesoftwigs,softswishesofsnow.Washeabouttobeattacked?Hadsheenticedhimintoanambush?Washeimaginingthatsomebodystoodbeyondthereachofthewandlight,watchinghim?

           Heheldthewandhigher.Nobodyranoutathim,noflashofgreenlightburstfrombehindatree.Why,then,hadsheledhimtothisspot?

           Somethinggleamedinthelightofthewand,andHarryspunabout,butallthatwastherewasasmall,frozenpool,itsblack,crackedsurfaceglitteringasheraisedhiswandhighertoexamineit.

           Hemovedforwardrathercautiouslyandlookeddown.Theicereflectedhisdistortedshadowandthebeamofwandlight,butdeepbelowthethick,mistygraycarapace,somethingelseglinted.Agreatsilvercross…

           Hisheartskippedintohismouth:Hedroppedtohiskneesatthepool’sedgeandangledthewandsoastofloodthebottomofthepoolwithasmuchlightaspossible.Aglintofdeepred…Itwasaswordwithglitteringrubiesinitshilt…TheswordofGryffindorwaslyingatthebottomoftheforestpool.

           Barelybreathing,hestareddownatit.

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