Гарри Поттер и Дары Смерти

The Wandmaker

           "Iwanttodoitproperly,"werethefirstwordsofwhichHarrywasfullyconsciousofspeaking."Notbymagic.Haveyougotaspade?"Andshortlyafterwardhehadsettowork,alone,diggingthegraveintheplacethatBillhadshownhimattheendofthegarden,betweenbushes.Hedugwithakindoffury,relishingthemanualwork,gloryinginthenon-magicofit,foreverydropofhissweatandeveryblisterfeltlikeagifttotheelfwhohadsavedtheirlives.

           Hisscarburned,buthewasmasterofthepain,hefeltit,yetwasapartfromit.Hehadlearnedcontrolatlast,learnedtoshuthismindtoVoldemort,theverythingDumbledorehadwantedhimtolearnfromSnape.JustasVoldemorthadnotbeenabletopossessHarrywhileHarrywasconsumedwithgriefforSirius,sohisthoughtscouldnotpenetrateHarrynowwhilehemournedDobby.Grief,itseemed,droveVoldemortout…thoughDumbledore,ofcourse,wouldhavesaidthatitwaslove.

           OnHarrydug,deeperanddeeperintothehard,coldearth,subsuminghisgriefinsweat,denyingthepaininhisscar.Inthedarkness,withnothingbutthesoundofhisownbreathandtherushingseatokeephimcompany,thethingsthathadhappenedattheMalfoys’returnedtohim,thethingshehadheardcamebacktohim,andunderstandingblossomedinthedarkness…

           Thesteadyrhythmofhisarmsbeattimewithhisthoughts.Hallows…Horcruxes…Hallows…Horcruxes…yetnolongerburnedwiththatweird,obsessivelonging.Lossandfearhadsnuffeditout.Hefeltasthoughhehadbeenslappedawakeagain.

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