The Lewis House 97 страница

Bill stopped. Adam had taken everything in stride for weeks. When he'd found out the truth about his parents, he had accepted it almost cheerfully and never mentioned it again. He probably needed a good, hard cry, and Bill knew that if he opened the door Adam would try to compose himself. Most boys preferred to bury their tears alone.

So Bill sat down and waited. He waited nearly an hour for the sobs to subside, and all the while he thought back over his year. Last February he and Charlie had cried together. Fleur had cried for him. Penelope had sobbed at the Memorial Service, his mother had broken down several times, Ginny had lost it at Christmas and Bill couldn't remember the rest. There wasn't a person he knew - save Harry, perhaps - whom he hadn't seen sobbing his guts out. It had been a rough year. Rougher, perhaps, than the three years that had preceded it because during those years there hadn't been time for emotion, there hadn't been room for thought. It was all this time that compounded the losses, made them sharp, brought them into focus. People said that time made grief less painful, and Bill imagined it was true - but he knew that at first it only made things worse.

When several minutes of silence had passed inside the barn, Bill stood and knocked on the door.

"Adam, it's Bill. Are you in there?"

"No."

He wasn't sure what to say. He supposed he should have been out here thinking about that, but it was too late now. "Care for a chat?"

"No."

"Are you sure? You did something amazing just now, can't I thank you for it?" Bill waited for an answer. When there was only a wet sniff in reply, Bill knocked again. "I'm going to open this up then, in a minute, if you don't mind."

Taking Adam's continued silence as permission, Bill pushed open the door and grimaced. The place smelled like mildew and rotting straw and wet animal fur. Charlie had used to use it as a coop for all kinds of funny forest creatures, and some of them must have made this their permanent nesting ground. It was no fit place for a child, but then neither was a cellar in Knockturn Alley.

"Adam?"

Something rustled in the loft. Bill could just make out a moving bundle in the dark upper corner. He climbed the ladder and picked his way through the sodden straw towards Adam, who lay on his back in the driest spot, tangled in dirty blankets, staring puffy-eyed at the barn roof.

Bill sat in the straw beside him. "You all right?"

Adam snorted. "My parents are in prison," he said dully. "What do you think?"

It had been bound to hit him sooner or later, and Bill thought that sooner was probably better. But it was going to be horrible, no matter what. And it must have been difficult for Adam to see his friend reunited with her sister, only to know that he was never going to have that peace himself.

"I think you've been brave," Bill said.

"Brave." The word was full of derision. "You sound like a Gryffindor."

"Well I am one." Bill shrugged. "But I'll tell you who won the House Cup this year, in my opinion."

"Who?"

"Slytherin."

Adam looked almost pleased, then snapped a piece of straw in half and threw it over the side of the loft. "Like it even matters," he muttered. "I have to go back to school and everyone's going to know what I am."

"What's that?"

"I'm a Hopewell. It's a Death Eater family. Everyone's going to hate me." He snapped another piece of straw. "I know how it goes. The only people who'll be my friends are people like me."

"Intelligent, interesting people?"

"Don’t act like you don't know what I mean." Adam sat up and gave Bill a stare that did not belong to a thirteen-year-old. It was disturbingly adult. "My parents helped kill people. That's true, isn't it?"

Bill wished he could lie. "Yes."

"So what sort of person does that make me?"

"A completely different person with a completely different life ahead of him, and all his own choices to make," Bill said. "You've made some pretty good ones already - look what you did today."

Adam stuck out his chin and looked away. "But I'm not completely different from my parents." His jaw tensed. "I'm not. I read like my dad. My dad knew everything. And I do magic like my mum - my mum was an Auror."

"I know."

"If anyone says anything about them at school, I'll kick their stupid arses."

"Good."

Adam blinked hard. "They're really clever, they're really - I don't under -" He shook his head. "Why did they fight for You-Know-Who? His voice was tight and his eyes were very glassy. "Why?"

"Because…" Bill sighed. "Because they hold the belief that Muggle-born children have no place in the wizarding world. And they're not alone, Adam. Tens of thousands of wizards and witches still believe that. It's a common feeling, and some people were willing to stake lives on it. Their own, and other people's."

"Well if so many people believe it, then doesn't it have to be a little bit right?"

Bill looked carefully at Adam. That was the most dangerous thing he'd heard the boy say. But then again… "I suppose that's one of those decisions you'll have to make for yourself."

"But what do you think?"

"Me? I think magic's the same, regardless of blood." He moved closer to the edge of the loft, and sat facing the barn door. The sunlight was changing color, turning the light in the barn a deep gold. "I know that it can be a difficult belief to keep in mind. There are arguments that seem to make sense, and it's easy to be inconsistent. But I believe very, very strongly in equality, and that's why I fought against people like…" He stopped. "Against people who didn’t agree."

"And your side won, so your side gets to decide who was right and who goes to prison."

Bill raised his eyebrows. "I suppose in a way… that's how wars work. Two sides fight for what they believe, and the side that wins -"

"Gets to stay in power until someone else stronger comes along."

Bill whistled. "Damn."

Adam crawled to the edge of the loft to sit beside Bill. He dangled his legs over the side and looked sideways at him. "What?"

"You really are a clever one, you know that?"

"Yes." Adam leaned back on his hands.

"But I'll tell you something, Adam. Evil wizards will never stop trying to take over the wizarding world - to separate the cultures, or to serve their own interests. Voldemort wasn't the first one, and he won't be the last. You'll see another in your lifetime, and so will I, I imagine. More than one. Perhaps even several. And every time, people will take sides and fight."

"But the same people won't always win."

"In the end? Yes they will." Bill pulled up his knees and rested his elbows on them, letting his forearms dangle. "That's the great secret of the universe. Greater than magic, or love, or any of it. Good wins."

"But Dark wizards have come to power and stayed in power for years and years."

"Sometimes it takes longer than others to throw them off," Bill agreed. "And there are terrible sacrifices. But what always happens in the end?"

"The Dark wizards get killed." Adam pushed a lot of straw over the edge of the loft and they both watched it drift to the ground. "And their supporters get punished."

Bill nodded. "So when the next war comes, and you're deciding what you want to fight for -"

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Good. And while you're keeping that in mind, you'll want to sort out a few other things."

Adam glanced at him. "Like?"

"Like what's right and what's wrong. Fighting for survival is important, but in the end, you want to fight for what you believe."

Adam was quiet for a while. He seemed to be thinking very hard about something, and then he bent his head. A few minutes later, he turned away and tried to wipe his eyes without Bill seeing him.

Bill looked away and studied the wall. There was a long silence.

"They're not ever getting out," Adam asked quietly. "Are they?"

"No."

"Am I… allowed to see them?"

Bill glanced back at him. Adam had drawn one knee up under his chin, and he busied himself with his shoelace.

"When all the charms are in place at Culparrat, and your parents are awake, I'll take you to see them. All right?"

Adam nodded without looking up.

"What do you say we go back and eat dinner?"

Adam nodded again and followed Bill down the ladder.

The woods were cool now, and the sky was growing dark. Above them, stars assumed their places in the heavens, and Bill felt almost as he had as a boy, walking home to dinner with Charlie. So much had changed, since then. But these trees hadn't. The stars hadn't. Time was the strangest element.

"So I suppose I'll keep living with your mum and dad," Adam said, when they'd been walking for nearly half an hour.

"What have they said about it?" Bill asked.

"They said I've got living relatives - just cousins related by marriage and things. No one's got a legal obligation to take me." Adam kicked a rock. "Or a legal right. But Arthur said he'll ask my family to consider it, if that's what I want."

"And what do you want?"

Adam shrugged and pushed a branch out of the way. "The Malfoys have a massive house. I've been over there for parties."

"You'll have a massive house yourself, someday."

"Will I?" Adam stopped walking. "What do you mean?"

"Well, except for your parents' house, which belongs to you now, all their assets have been liquidated - turned back into Galleons, essentially - and put in a vault for you. It'll collect interest for the next five years, until you're finished with school."

"So I'm rich?"

Bill laughed. "Well you won't be hurting for money." They continued walking. "So you like the Malfoys' house, do you?"

Adam shrugged. "Yes, but I'd rather…"

"Hm?"

"Well, I'd rather go to Egypt with you," Adam said quickly, sounding almost shy. He kept his eyes straight ahead.

Bill was touched. He threw an arm around Adam's shoulders. "It'd be hard to commute to Hogwarts, from Egypt," he said seriously. "But I hope you'll visit often. Come next summer and I'll take you through the pyramids."

"Honestly?"

"Of course."

Adam's face lit up. "Cool," he said, and ran ahead of Bill towards the Burrow, which had just come into view. "Guess I'll just live here then," he shouted over his shoulder as he ran.

"Good," Bill said softly, and broke into a jog.

He caught up with Adam in the front door of the Burrow, where Adam had come to a dead halt and now stood slack-jawed, staring into the front room. Bill followed his gaze - and grinned.

Gabrielle sat on the sofa gesturing wildly with her hands and chattering nonstop to Fleur, who sat in rapt attention. But Gabrielle no longer bore the traces of Ella. She had bathed. Her silvery hair was brushed. She wore clean clothing - it must have been some of Ginny's old stuff - and her face was alight with happiness. Far from the filthy, bedraggled child who had appeared in the Burrow that afternoon, she now looked like nothing less than a fairytale princess.

"Whoa," said Adam.

Gabrielle stopped talking and turned her head towards the door so fast that her hair flew out around her.

"Adam!"

"Y-yes?"

Gabrielle jumped up and ran to the door in a heartbeat. She flung her arms around Adam, hugged him tight, and spoke in rapid, breathless French. Bill only understood a few words of her outburst - her parents were coming, she was happy, she was grateful - and he was sure that Adam didn't understand any of it. He was also sure it didn't matter in the slightest. When Gabrielle pulled away, she looked into Adam's face for a long moment and then ran back to her sister.

Adam swayed on the spot, blushing so hard that Bill could feel him radiating.

"All right there, Adam?" Bill asked, biting back his amusement.

"She… she didn't used to talk," was all Adam said. He weaved his way across the room to the stairs and disappeared slowly up them, a dazed look on his face.

Bill knew the feeling.

~*~

"Checkmate."

Hermione sighed and clapped her thumb over the mouth of Harry's laughing queen. "Best of three?" she asked him. "Unless you don't feel like playing two more games."

"It'll just be one." Harry looked horribly tired, but he smiled a little and began to set up the board.

The grandfather clock chimed loudly and Hermione winced; she didn't want Harry to realize that it was six o'clock, which meant that Ginny would appear at any moment.

In the week since he had defended Ginny in the kitchen, Harry had taken to coming over after his shifts nearly every day to play chess, or to borrow books, or to ask Hermione questions that she was fairly sure he knew the answers to. He always looked as though he would rather have been asleep than awake - in fact, he had dozed off more than once. But tired or not, he always came between five and six, when Ginny was at St. Mungo's, and he always left before she came home. But right now he seemed very absorbed in getting the chess pieces turned just so, and whether he had gone deaf to the clock on purpose or was simply too exhausted to notice the time, Hermione wasn't going to snap him out of it.

"How's it going at Culparrat?" Harry asked, as the chime vibration died away.

"Very well. I hardly have anything to do." Hermione watched him put the pawns in the exact centers of their squares. "I thought the elves would need more direction, but they're very efficient."

Harry glanced up. "Oh, are they already there?" he asked, and looked back at the board. "Don't they spend all their time worshipping you?"

"Of course not!" Hermione crossed her arms and huffed. "They're just respectful. That poor little one that used to belong to the Malfoys is there, and she's looking much better. I'm so glad Seamus thought to report that. That was really good of him."

Harry snorted. "He was probably afraid you'd come after him with a treasury box and a manifesto."

"And Fleur leads the Charms team," Hermione said loudly, ignoring him. "And Bill arranged a group of Curse Breakers he trusts to come and test the spell walls once they're in place. Which leaves very little for me to do."

Harry had finally positioned all the pieces. His hand hovered over the pawns as he studied the board, and Hermione narrowed her eyes. Was he stalling? Was he hoping to see Ginny?

"So you just sit around sunning yourself, or what?" Harry asked, meditatively patting a pawn on the head.

"Not exactly." Hermione sighed. "Would you go!"

Harry moved a white pawn.

"I've been helping the Aurors where I can. They don't really need me either, but I've had some ideas about which levels certain prisoners ought to be assigned, based on the structure of the Imprisonment Enchantment -"

"Can it be broken in some places?"

"Well, no," Hermione admitted, picking up Crookshanks, who had just rubbed against her legs. "But the more serious the crime, the higher up the criminal. Just in case. It's harder to escape from a turret than from a ground floor."

"Unless you've got a hippogriff."

They exchanged a secret smile, and Hermione moved the black pawn that was closest to the edge of the board. It hung its round, faceless little head as soon as she touched it, as if resigning itself to its fate.

"I rather like working with the Aurors," Hermione said, scratching Crookshanks behind his ears and making him purr. "Moody even asked me if I have an interest in the area."

"And do you?"

"Well, yes, but I'm interested in everything." Hermione stroked thoughtfully beneath Crookshanks's chin. "There's just so much to choose from, isn't there?"

"What about Thinking?" Harry rested his finger on another pawn and frowned.

"It's strange," Hermione said. "I never thought I'd like it as much as I do… I just wanted to help my parents, but I think I've helped them all I can." She was quiet for a moment, and Harry glanced up at her.

"The rest is up to Ginny, then?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, and Harry looked down and became extremely interested in sliding his pawn from one square to another.

"What's it like working with Fleur?" he asked, still not looking at her.

"She's… well, actually, she's great." Hermione shrugged. She had forgotten how to dislike Fleur, somewhere along the way. She knew they'd never be great friends, but she couldn't think of anything negative to say about her. "She's a hard worker, and she's clever, and a very, very powerful witch. I'm really impressed with the way she's handled this enchantment - and obviously it helps that she and Bill are such a good team."

"Er - yeah." Harry shook his head. "That's one way to put it. First Percy, then Fred, now Bill… wonder who'll be next?" he asked innocently. He gave Hermione a meaningful look and tapped the board. "Your move, isn't it?"

Hermione flushed. She dearly wished she could turn his suggestion around on him, but teasing him about Ginny while they were still at odds seemed a bit cruel. She pressed her mouth shut and moved another pawn.

"It's wonderful about Fleur's sister, though," Harry said, after a minute had passed in silence. "She must have been…" He paused. "I can't even imagine."

"No. I know." They shared another smile, but it was halfhearted, and Hermione was glad when she heard a noise from the kitchen and smelt something marvelous wafting in from the corridor. It made her suddenly hungry.

"Fried dinner," said Harry, taking one of Hermione's pawns. "Who's cooking?"

"Dunno," she said lightly. "But it can't be Remus. He's in the study."

Harry straightened slightly and put a hand through his hair as footsteps approached the front room from the direction of the kitchen.

But it was Sirius who popped his head in. "I picked up dinner in Diagon Alley," he said. "Thought you'd be here, Harry. Help yourself, there's plenty. Where's Remus?"

Harry slumped back to his normal posture. "In the study."

"What were you doing in Diagon Alley?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

Sirius shrugged. "My suspension means I can't hold trials. I can still get a bit of work done, and Ron can use the help."

"Where is Ron?" Hermione asked.

"He's er… still at the office." Sirius gave her an apologetic smile. "He says he won't sleep till Malfoy's case is prepared, so he's been collecting and writing out eyewitness accounts of June thirtieth."

"Sounds like a great time," Harry muttered. "He's worked too much since Malfoy went to prison. I don't know why he doesn't just leave him there for awhile and prepare the case really slowly."

"I think," Sirius said, "Ron will be happier knowing that Malfoy is alive and in hell."

Hermione didn't like the corner of herself that burned with satisfaction at the idea of Malfoy alive and in hell, but she couldn’t help it. Recklessly she moved one of her pawns, and was unsurprised when Harry took that one too.

"Are either of you hungry, or should I put the food away?"

"No, we're hungry. Come on, Harry." Hermione pushed Crookshanks off her lap and stood.

Sirius disappeared, but Harry stayed in his chair. He was looking at his watch.

"Do you have to go?" Hermione asked, disappointed. She had hoped that, since he'd stayed this long, he would stay long enough to see Ginny.

"No…" Harry drummed his fingers on the table, glanced up at Hermione and looked back down. "She's not usually late coming back from work, is she?"

So he was waiting. Hermione kept her voice even and tried not to show her delight. "No, she's never late."

"It's half six." Harry looked at his watch again. "Do you think she's all right?"

Hermione stifled a smile. It was good to see him like this. "Yes, I'm sure she's fine. Perhaps she stopped somewhere for something - or she could be upstairs. Sometimes she lies down for a bit, after working. Would you like me to check?"

Harry shook his head, then nodded at once. "I - I know I'm being stupid, I just -"

"No, it's all right!" Lighthearted for Ginny's sake, Hermione hurried upstairs and peeked into their room. But it was dark, and no one was there. Slowly, Hermione went back towards the front room, wondering how long she could get Harry to stay, and just what his intentions were. Perhaps he had come tonight to talk to Ginny. It was about time.

"I… well I'm all right, thanks."

At the sound of Ginny's voice in the front room, Hermione stopped on the top step and listened. She told herself she wasn't eavesdropping; she only wanted to be sure that she didn't interrupt.

"How have you been?"

"Not so well," Harry said, very quietly.

Hermione was shocked. She tried to remember a time when Harry had flat-out admitted that he wasn't doing well. She drew a blank.

"Oh…" Ginny was very quiet too. "I… oh, Harry -"

"No, Ginny, let me -"

Hermione held her breath.

"Wait," Ginny interrupted. "I can't do this now. I want to - I really want to - but Harry, it's the Grangers. They're close. They're so close. I swear they're about to wake up."

A loud, dull, thudding noise filled Hermione's ears. It was a moment before she recognized it as her heartbeat. She gripped the banister.

"It's much sooner than I expected - where's Hermione? She should come to St. Mungo's with me, I might need her help. And where's Remus, I want to tell him I'm breaking our schedule because I just can't lose momentum, I have to go back there right now and I'm going to stay until I see it through." Ginny spoke rapidly, barely stopping for breath. "It could happen tonight."

Hermione sank down to sit on the stairs. Tonight. It could happen tonight. She suddenly wanted Ron very much.

"And someone'll have to find Ron," Ginny continued. "I didn't want to leave them at all, but I need a change of clothes and something to eat - I'm already getting tired, it's so hard -"

"Go." Harry's voice was steady and full of purpose. "I'll tell Ron. I'll get your bag packed and bring it with your dinner, and I'll get Hermione -"

"And will you tell Remus?"

"Yes."

"Harry." Ginny's voice was full of relief. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me - just go."

There was a soft pop! and Harry raced up the stairs, nearly tripping over Hermione in the dark.

"Your parents," he said urgently, extending his hand to her. "They're -"

"I know…" Hermione blinked up at him, too stunned to lie. "I heard everything."

Harry pulled back slightly. "Were you listening in on us?"

Hermione nodded and took the hand he offered. He pulled her to her feet.

"Then we're even," Harry said, and pushed her towards her room. "I accidentally saw yours and Ron's first kiss - from the dormitory stairs, actually - bet you didn't know that," he called.

Hermione hardly heard him. She vaguely noticed that he was going through Ginny's bureau drawers and stuffing things into a bag, but she didn't pay much attention. She wandered slowly to her closet and pulled out a set of robes. Blue ones. Her mother had always liked her in blue. She took socks and knickers from her bureau and crumpled it all into her rucksack, then went down the hall to get her toothbrush, listening to Harry bolt back down the stairs.

She stopped in front of the mirror and rested her hands on either side of the sink. It wouldn't do to expect anything. Ginny had no real idea what she was doing; she'd told Hermione again and again that even if her parents woke, she didn't know what condition they'd be in. Hermione knew it all, in her head. She understood it perfectly, it made logical sense, it was filed in order and she had to be rational now more than ever.

But it could be tonight.

She studied her own eyes for a moment; they were full of the anguished hope she wouldn't let herself feel. She looked down into the sink and silently repeated the hard truths that would save her from crushing disappointment. They've been comatose for a long time. No one's ever completely recovered from Cruciatus madness. They're non-magic. They were affected worse than a witch and wizard would have been. They won't recognize you. They won't recognize you. Remember how the Longbottoms behave towards Neville. Even if they wake, they're going to be mad, Hermione. Even if they wake, they're going to be mad.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04