The Lewis House 27 страница

"It is finished..." Voldemort had hissed, bringing the noise to a halt, pinning his red eyes on Harry. "As it was meant to be finished one thousand years ago, between your ancestor and mine."

Harry had breathed heavily, not backing up, not lowering his wand, though he’d clearly been defeated. "This isn’t the end," he’d panted. "Blood means nothing. Ancestors are nothing. Someone else will fight you – and win."

Ginny had whimpered, listening to him. He had spoken like a man about to die.

Voldemort had smiled – horribly. "Expelliarmus," he’d snapped, bringing Harry’s wand to him, then flinging it over his shoulder. "So Priori Incantatem cannot save you...." He had lifted his own wand and aimed it at Harry’s center. "Your mother cannot save you..."

Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny had seen it begin to happen. Hermione, who had been holding several younger Death Eaters away from the center of the fight, turned and raced toward Harry. Remus had somehow wrenched himself from within an Imprisonment Curse, Stunned the Death Eaters in his vicinity with a few hard twists of his wand, and followed. From the ground, a badly injured Ron had lifted his wand, pulled himself up, and begun staggering toward Voldemort. Sirius had turned his back – almost fatally – on a duel with Mr. Lestrange, transformed into Padfoot, and bolted toward his godson.

"The Order of the Phoenix and its... refreshing incompetence –" Voldemort had continued derisively, either too focused on Harry to notice the small army that approached, or too sure of his victory to pay them attention "– are of no use... what a pity... so much in vain..." His lips had curled in a serpentine smile. "Farewell, Harry Potter..."

There had been no doubt in Ginny’s mind of what words Voldemort would say next. Feeling as if the world were in slow motion, she had begun to run, joining Ron and Hermione, Sirius and Remus, in throwing herself between Harry and the wand that was about to take his life. She’d felt a push at her back – Harry trying to move them all out of the way and take the fall himself – and she’d pushed back, strangely unafraid to be standing beside her brother, looking up into the flat, raw face of a man who had never known love, or life, or friendship.

And then a feeling unlike any that she had ever known had begun to burn in her heart. It had been like magic – but involuntary. Stronger. It had filled Ginny’s every pore, and as it had built she’d felt its warmth not only beneath her skin, but rising up in the air on all sides of her. Love. Sacrifice. Pure nerve. Ron’s and Hermione’s. Remus’s and Sirius’s. Harry’s. Her own.

Voldemort had leered down at them from his abnormal height and his lipless mouth opened on the Killing Curse. Fearlessly, Ginny had watched him speak the dreaded words, her heart still singing with some power far greater than herself.

But though the Dark Lord had mouthed the curse, he’d made no sound. His slitted eyes had widened slightly, and one long, white hand had fluttered to his throat. He’d glared coldly over their heads at Harry, and opened his mouth again – but this time he had not even been able to shape words.

As they had looked on, united in horror, the skin around Voldemort’s lips had begun to shrivel and burn, receding over his teeth as if his very flesh were disintegrating. He had twisted his snakelike head from side to side, clearly in agony though unable to scream, as the blackened muscles beneath his flesh had been revealed.... then a glimpse of bone...

Revolted, sickened, triumphant, they had observed the fall of the Dark Lord as he had decayed at their feet. Ginny remembered perfectly the way he had withered before them, powerless against Expecto Sacrificum, which Harry had invoked and which they had fulfilled by defending him. Voldemort had crumbled in the wake of their love, recoiling into himself, nose collapsing, ears sinking into his head, hands and fingers shriveling into the sockets of his wrists.

His wand had fallen to the earth.

Still screaming soundlessly, Voldemort’s shape had begun to shift – a flicker of the demonic man, red-eyed, power-hungry – suddenly a massive serpent, writhing, twisting in air before them, its forked tongue lashing out in futile suffering....

And then, standing alone in Voldemort’s place, there had been a boy of sixteen. Pale. Dark-haired. Afraid. He might have been Harry’s brother.

"Tom..." Ginny had whispered, trembling.

But with a sharp crack! of light and imploding sound, the illusion had vanished, leaving them all in darkness for a fleeting second that felt like an eternity.

And when the world had become light again, on the grass at their feet, scorched black and smoking, there had been nothing left of Voldemort but his wand.

Ginny stared at the ground now, not sure how it was possible that she remembered precisely where the wand had fallen. But she did remember, though the grass had grown back from having been burned and trampled. It had been there. Right there. She shivered violently, struck by what evil she had lived through.

She lifted her eyes to the empty castle, trying not to let her gaze linger too long on the ruined ceiling of the Great Hall, or the crumbling stone around the entrance door. She searched out Gryffindor tower, found her old dormitory window, and was possessed by a powerful urge to go inside. Quickly, she ran to the doors, which admitted her without question – they must have recognized her touch and Ginny was glad of it. She climbed the familiar stairs and raced down the corridor that led her to the portrait of the Fat Lady, where she came to a halt.

The Fat Lady’s mouth dropped open at the sight of Ginny, but though her eyes lit up, her face grew wistful. She shook her head.

Ginny’s heart sank. She had known the passwords to Gryffindor for so many years that it hadn’t even occurred to her that there would come a time when she would be barred from entering.

"Prismapillar?" she asked hopefully. That had been the final password of her sixth year.

The Fat Lady sighed. "I’m afraid not, Miss Weasley."

"Oh please," Ginny begged. "You know me, you can change the password for me – please."

"It’s quite against my rules," the Fat Lady protested gently. "You’re no longer a resident of Gryffindor."

"But I should be," Ginny cried in frustration. "And I miss it. I need to see it."

The Fat Lady pursed her lips and appeared to be weighing Ginny’s request, when her painted eyes focused down the corridor and her round, pink face widened in a smile. "So many old students at once," she sighed.

Ginny spun, and caught her breath. Harry was there, standing unobtrusively in the shadows at the far end of the corridor. Ginny was so struck by the look on his face, as he watched her, that she hardly heard the Fat Lady’s next words.

"I suppose I can trust the two of you, as there’s no one inside that’s at risk. Be quick about it. The password is Fiat Lux."

"Fiat Lux," Harry repeated back, his voice low. Ginny heard the portrait swing open behind her. Harry pointed to it. "Go on," he said quietly.

Ginny made herself turn and climb through the hole. She heard Harry’s footsteps and breathing just behind her, and then the portrait swung shut again, leaving them in a silence so thick that Ginny could barely think. Her mind mercilessly echoed her idiotic words back to her. I would have promised to outlive you... Her face burning, she went to the picture window across the common room and drew a deep, steadying breath.

To her surprise, the breath helped. Perhaps it was because the common room smelled so comfortingly familiar; the room itself was as clean as elfish magic could make it, but in the air hung every element of Gryffindor student life. It was a rich, wonderful, dusty smell – old books and chess sets and late night fires, muddy broomtails and victory parties, the tang of bursting Christmas crackers, the sour of spilled potions, and the old wetness of uniform cloaks, all heavy with the damp of holiday snowball fights. The smell was so full of memories that it was nearly unbearable; it overwhelmed Ginny and threatened to make her cry. But there was a feeling in this air that kept her steady – a bracing quality that seemed to reverberate from the flagstones and weave itself into the tapestries – a lingering energy that Ginny knew deep in her bones. The common room rang with a thousand years of courage.

Ginny put her fingers on the stone windowsill and let her eyes travel the lake and forest, resting her swimming gaze on Hagrid’s old hut.

She heard footsteps on the carpets. They could only be Harry’s, and they were coming dangerously close. Ginny stayed perfectly still and let him approach her, though why he had followed and what he wanted, she didn’t dare imagine.

He took a breath – she heard it. He was so close to her back that he was nearly touching her; she could feel him at her shoulder, looking over it and out the window to survey the grounds with her.

"I can’t stand being here."

She barely caught the low words, but she understood them perfectly. It was hard to stand in this room that had become her home, and to know that it was done with her. "I know," she said quietly. "Today’s supposed to be… but I’m glad Remus is going to teach me."

Harry took a short breath that sounded suspiciously uncontrolled, and Ginny was shocked to feel herself seized from behind. Harry’s arms were around her, pulling her as close as he could get her, and his face was buried in the slope between her shoulder and her neck. She shut her eyes and let her mouth fall open, feeling heat rise from the deepest part of her, tunneling up through her body to burn in her head. Against the side of her throat, she could feel the brush of Harry’s mouth and the line of his nose – the cool lenses of his glasses.

"I can’t –" he managed brokenly, into her skin. He was holding her so tight around the middle that she found it hard to breathe, and her heart opened painfully at his tone of voice. He couldn’t get the words out but it didn’t matter. She knew.

She covered his hands with one of her own, and reached up with her other hand to stroke the short hair at the warm nape of his neck. He was such a puzzle to others, but so simple to her – she didn’t know how she knew where to touch him and what to say, but she heard herself mumble words of comfort and before long, Harry had buckled against her back. Ginny found herself – she was too dizzy to know quite how – sitting against him in the enormous Gryffindor window seat. She leaned back on his chest, happy that he kept her trapped in his arms; her head fell back against his right shoulder and he laid his face on her left one.

They were silent and still for a long time, and Ginny watched as the sun crept slowly toward the horizon. It had sunk halfway out of sight before either of them moved or spoke.

"Hermione’s leaving," Harry finally croaked.

Ginny nodded. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like for Harry, not having one of his family near him. He’d always had trouble letting Ron and Hermione out of his sight. She stayed quiet and waited for him to continue, not wanting to stop him now that he was finally talking about real things.

"And what if Ron…" Harry shook his head against her shoulder. "I’ll kill Malfoy for this."

Ginny knew he meant it, and though the words gave her a chill, she was glad to know that Harry was so devoted to her brother. "Nothing’s happened so far," she murmured, turning slightly in his arms to fit better against him. "No need to go killing neighbors yet."

Harry gave a jerk that Ginny supposed was a silent, unwilling laugh. "It’s just Ron and Hermione – " Harry stopped, as if unable to find words. "Every time I – the two of them always – you know how…"

"They’ve been your life?"

Harry’s arms tightened around her, and Ginny knew she’d made a direct hit. She rubbed her head on his shoulder. It was a privilege, being the person to whom he could speak about his life. She knew he had a hard time saying all the words to Ron and Hermione. She didn’t know exactly why he was saying them to her, but she was glad.

"Well, Ron has Sirius," she said slowly, "and Hermione will come back. You know she won’t last long, without the two of you."

He shrugged. "Yeah."

"And… you won’t have to read anything for awhile, if you don’t want!"

This time, Harry did laugh. "Yeah." He loosened his grip on her just enough to find her forearms with his hands. Ginny kept her face turned to the window, her temperature shifting at alarming rates as Harry’s fingertips softly and repeatedly opened and shut, just grazing her bare skin. She knew he must be able to feel her hair standing on end, but she didn’t mind. She could feel his heart, hammering against her back. Ginny had an idea that if she just turned her face to his… But she shut her eyes instead, and enjoyed being there with him in the quiet. It was strangely comfortable and right.

It was dark on the grounds, and nearly pitch-black in the common room, before his body shifted.

"We… should go back." Harry’s voice was reluctant.

Ginny gave a soft little sigh. Surely he was right – their friends would have missed them by now. But she had no desire at all to leave the warm, protective circle of his arms – she’d waited too long to be inside it. As she hesitated to agree with him, she felt a wisp of something touch the back of her neck, and she shivered all the way into her bones. Had he… kissed her there? She still found it nearly impossible that – but there it was again. Ginny felt his mouth, just barely, alight on the hidden skin beneath the line of her hair, and she jumped involuntarily.

"We should really go… they’ll be worried…" He was saying it almost as if he wanted her to protest.

Ginny wasn’t sure why she didn’t. "They will be worried," she agreed quietly, and using all her inner strength, she sat up straight. Harry’s arms fell away from her and she felt an awful wrench of loss – to combat it, she lifted her hands to fix up her hair, and realized it was practically destroyed. Somehow, though, she didn’t mind the idea of her hair staying tousled from having been pressed against Harry, and she dropped her hands, smiling shyly over her shoulder. "I think I’m a bit mussed up."

Harry looked confusedly at her hair. "Where? It looks good," he said, and though it was dark, Ginny thought he might have blushed. He definitely ducked his head and went about adjusting his glasses in a most unnecessary manner. Ginny watched him, feeling a thrill of importance. She gathered her courage to reach for his hand, thinking that it would be rather nice to walk back to the Three Broomsticks, holding it, when there was a violent crack! in the center of the common room that made both of them shoot to their feet and grab their wands.

"Who’s there?" Harry demanded, edging ahead of Ginny toward a small, dark shape with rather large ears.

The creature lifted up a short wand with its knobbly fingers. Snap! A ball of light materialized at the end of the wand and rose to hover in the air above them, lighting the common room and all their faces. Ginny and Harry squinted for a moment in the bright light, and Harry was the first to speak.

"Dobby!" he gasped.

"Is this…" Dobby breathed, tucking his wand away and hopping up and down on overexcited feet, "… is you – Oh, Harry Potter, sir! I am thinking I will never see you again since you is done with Hogwarts! A great day! A happy day!"

"It’s night," Harry remarked, but he grinned when Dobby barreled across the room and flung his arms around Harry’s legs.

"You is getting tall, Harry Potter." Dobby looked up at him, and then at Ginny, hope brimming in his enormous eyes. "The Headmistress is telling us that this year the students isn’t coming back to Hogwarts…" He rocked back and forth expectantly. "But maybe she is mistaken?"

"No, Dobby," Ginny said gently. "We’re just visiting."

"Oh." Dobby’s squashed face fell, then brightened again immediately. "But you is here to see Dobby!"

Harry opened his mouth, but Ginny cut in before he could deny that statement. "Yes, we are," she said quickly. "How are you, and Winky, and everyone?"

Dobby shook his head. "Winky is doing well, Miss. She is laying off the butterbeer unless I am making her angry."

Harry snorted, and Ginny hid a grin.

"But the other elves is having troubles," Dobby went on, twisting his fingers.

Ginny frowned. "Troubles?" she repeated. "But I thought you’d won your rights?"

"Oh, yes, Miss!" Dobby drew his strange little wand and raised it lovingly before his eyes. "The Great Leader of the Liberation Front is winning us our wages and our sick days and our wands. A generous witch. A beautiful witch."

Harry made a strangled noise – he found Ginny’s hand and gripped it hard, and Ginny gripped back to keep herself from laughing. It was hilarious, the way that the elves now idolized Hermione.

"We is learning our magic again, Harry Potter." Dobby smiled proudly. "One day, I am becoming a great wizard like you and your Miss." He looked at their joined hands, and Ginny’s face grew very hot.

Harry made another strangled sort of noise, though this one was very different in nature. "You said you were having troubles, though, Dobby," he managed after a moment. "Troubles like what?"

"Oh… Dobby wishes not to be bothering the great Harry Potter with –"

"Cut it out."

Dobby sighed. "There is too many of us for Hogwarts now, sir. The bad wizards is all in prison and their house-elves is coming here, for work. The headmistress is noble, she lets them all come in, but there is too many now, and when students come back, there is half of us who is having to find new jobs." Dobby shook his head sadly. "Rights is good, Harry Potter, but many families is not wanting to pay us what we earn, and where is half of us going to go?" He looked up at Harry, waiting for the answer.

Ginny and Harry looked at each other helplessly. Neither of them knew what to say.

"There must be somewhere else that needs a large amount of service," Ginny began, but she couldn’t think of anywhere off the top of her head that didn’t already employ all the liberated elves that it could handle. The Ministry had as many as it could afford, as did the wizarding library system, the Owl Post service, and the Children’s Home. The Gringotts goblins didn’t trust the elves, now that they were permitted to carry wands.

Harry also seemed at a loss. "We’ll… we’ll think about it for you Dobby, all right?" he said sincerely.

Dobby nodded, shining with pleasure. "Dobby has no doubt that Harry Potter will think of something."

Harry sighed, almost inaudibly. Ginny squeezed his hand. "Listen, Dobby," she said, "we’ve got to go now, but it was lovely, seeing you again. Oh – and Hermione says hello to you and Winky."

It was a lie, but it certainly didn’t matter. Dobby looked positively ecstatic.

"Oooh, I am telling everyone!" He threw himself at Ginny, this time, and hugged her tight. "Farewell, Miss! Farewell, Harry Potter!"

Dobby’s farewells followed the two of them into the corridor, and after bidding their own farewell to the Fat Lady, they laughed themselves all the way out onto the grounds.

"Don’t," said Harry, trying to be serious, "and I mean do not tell Hermione that the elves are having troubles. She’ll never go and be a Thinker if she can stay and campaign for them again."

"Do you think I want to wear another embarrassing button?" Ginny retorted, and the two of them burst out laughing again as they crossed the dark, slick lawns. Ginny was having such fun that she had even forgotten about her earlier memories of war and loss, until they ran across the same cold, invisible barrier she’d come up against before. She let out a cry, and threw up her hands against it.

Harry looked around them, on guard at once. "What?" he asked immediately. "What is it?"

Ginny decided not to tell him that she could somehow feel the place where Voldemort had fallen. "Nothing," she said quickly. "I slipped." She forced herself to walk past it, which was much easier to do when Harry found her hand again and held it firmly in his own.

To Ginny, it seemed the shortest walk into town that she had ever taken. She remembered being in school, wishing against all hope that one day she would be walking alongside Harry on a Hogsmeade weekend. It was satisfying on so many levels, to walk with him down the dark main street beneath a sky full of stars, with his fingers curled around hers. They didn’t talk much. They didn’t have to. The door of the Three Broomsticks was reached far too quickly.

Harry turned to her before reaching for the doorknob, and Ginny wondered if this was the sort of moment… she thought it was. His eyes were gentle and serious and green. Truly green. Not murky, not hazel, not a little bit blue – Ginny forgot what she was doing and where she was, and studied the color – clear and cool and inches away. She’d never seen another person with eyes so vivid; they didn’t look quite real, especially surrounded by eyelashes so black that –

He was looking at her mouth. She felt herself go pale.

"Ginny…" He swallowed hard. "Can I..."

The door to the Three Broomsticks swung open, letting a wave of noise and laughter into the dark, quiet street.

"Oh – I’m sorry –" the too-familiar voice cracked with embarrassment, and a pair of brown eyes stared widely at the pair of them.

Ginny had never wanted to hurt one of her brothers. Not really. She’d slapped them, pulled their hair, tickled them, tripped them, hid their things and told on them, of course. But it was all she could do not to pull her wand and curse George Weasley right back into the pub. She glared at him.

George didn't take the hint. Instead, he stepped fully outside, letting the door slam shut behind him. He leaned up against the wall of the Three Broomsticks, and lit a sqworm with his wand.

"Mum's going to kill you if she sees you smoking that," Ginny said angrily.

"Huh?" said George absently, and then looked at the curved, orange-glowing tube clasped between his fingers. He exhaled a spicy smelling smoke and then said, "You're probably right. I guess I'll go for a walk." And with that, he kicked away from the building and strolled away from them.

Ginny turned to address Harry again, but he was already reaching for the handle. He held the door open for Ginny, who tried to catch his eye as she went in – it was difficult, since he was staring at his shoes, but she didn’t take it too personally. She wasn’t perfectly comfortable being caught by her brother, either.

"Oh, hey, Ginny –" Neville tapped her shoulder and grinned at her. "I’m off. See you around."

"Bye," she said breathlessly, giving him a quick hug and turning back to find Harry – but before she could, her hand was grabbed by someone else.

"Where’ve you been?" Colin pulled her into an embrace. "We’re leaving, and I hardly got to talk to you."

Behind him, Eloise was watching Ginny carefully. Ginny tried to smile at her. "Sorry," she said sincerely. "I’ll come up to Diagon Alley and say hi, whenever I come to see my dad."

"And if you could get us an interview with him…" Colin winked, and Ginny gave an inattentive laugh. By the time she was finished with her goodbye to Eloise, Harry was halfway across the room, frowning absently at Hermione, who was talking at an alarming rate – about Malfoy, no doubt. They both headed towards the bar to Ron, who was still behind the counter, and soon enough, Ron began to gesture explosively while Hermione spoke. Ginny watched the three of them together, not sure what it was about their expressions that made her unable to cross the room and join the conversation. But sometimes – and she could always tell when – that trio was uninterruptible.

Slowly, she wandered back to the table where she’d eaten dinner, migrating naturally toward someone who, though she made Ginny wild with annoyance, also had the natural power to give her strength.

"Ginny, dear! Let me order you a pumpkin juice."

Ginny sank into a chair, realizing suddenly how tired she was, and how achy.

Her mother reached out and put a hand on her knee. "Or is it butterbeer now?" she asked, sighing. "I’m sure I’m underestimating your age again." She smiled, and patted Ginny’s knee lovingly. "These are lovely dress robes. And to think I never thought of blue for you."

Ginny didn’t answer. She scooted her chair closer to her mother’s, and lay her head down on her shoulder. It was a gesture she hadn’t voluntarily made since childhood.

"Tired?" Molly asked quietly, smoothing the hair back from Ginny’s forehead. "Your hair’s quite a mess, dear, you must’ve had nice time dancing."

Ginny nodded, wondering what her mother would think if she really knew.

"What a lovely wedding." Molly sighed again. "That horrible son of mine, not even letting me give him one. Not... that big weddings are necessary." She went very quiet, before beginning again briskly. "Did I tell you I’ve spotted a very nice girl here tonight who I think might be good for George? You and I ought to see what we can do about that." She kissed the top of Ginny’s head and put her arm around her.

Ginny nestled a bit closer and, though she hadn’t publicly done so in ages, she took her mother’s hand. "Which girl is it then?" she mumbled, opening her eyes to watch the dancing couples

"Right there, with the - oh, with the baby. Well, that won’t do. Still, let’s find your brother." Before Ginny could tell her mother that George was outside, she had managed to get his twin's attention. "Fred?" Molly asked sharply, stopping him in his tracks as he danced by with Angelina.

"Yeah, Mum?" he asked, looking startled.

"Where is George?"

"George?" Fred repeated, his voice cracking.

"Yes, George," Molly replied, exasperated. "I think you know him."

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04