Гарри Поттер и Дары Смерти

The Silver Doe

           Thrashing,suffocating,hescrabbledatthestranglingchain,hisfrozenfingersunabletoloosenit,andnowlittlelightswerepoppinginsidehishead,andhewasgoingtodrown,therewasnothingleft,nothinghecoulddo,andthearmsthatclosedaroundhischestweresurelyDeath’s…

           Chokingandretching,soakingandcolderthanhehadeverbeeninhislife,hecametofacedowninthesnow.Somewhere,closeby,anotherpersonwaspantingandcoughingandstaggeringaround,asshehadcomewhenthesnakeattacked…Yetitdidnotsoundlikeher,notwiththosedeepcoughs,nojudgingbytheweightofthefootsteps…

           Harryhadnostrengthtolifthisheadandseehissavior’sidentity.Allhecoulddowasraiseashakinghandtohisthroatandfeeltheplacewherethelockethadcuttightlyintohisflesh.Itwasgone.Someonehadcuthimfree.Thenapantingvoicespokefromoverhishead.

           "Areyoumental?"

           NothingbuttheshockofhearingthatvoicecouldhavegivenHarrythestrengthtogetup.Shiveringviolently,hestaggeredtohisfeet.TherebeforehimstoodRon,fullydressedbutdrenchedtotheskin,hishairplasteredtohisface,theswordofGryffindorinonehandandtheHorcruxdanglingfromitsbrokenchainintheother.

           "Whythehell,"pantedRon,holdinguptheHorcrux,whichswungbackwardandforwardonitsshortenedchaininsomeparodyofhypnosis,"didn’tyoutakethethingoffbeforeyoudived?"

           Harrycouldnotanswer.Thesilverdoewasnothing,nothingcomparedwithRon’sreappearance;hecouldnotbelieveit.

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