THE PHEONIX LAMENT

“C ’mere, Harry…”

“No.”

“Yeh can’ stay here, Harry… Come on, now…”

“No.”

He did not want to leave Dumbledore’s side, he did not want to move anywhere. Hagrid’s hand on his shoulder was trembling. Then another voice said, “Harry, come on.”

A much smaller and warmer hand had enclosed his and was pulling him upward. He obeyed its pressure without really thinking about it. Only as he walked blindly back through the crowd did he realize, from a trace of flowery scent on the air, that it was Ginny who was leading him back into the castle. Incomprehensible voices battered him, sobs and shouts and wails stabbed the night, but Harry and Ginny walked on, back up the steps into the entrance hall. Faces swam on the edges of Harry’s vision, people were peering at him, whispering, wondering, and Gryffindor rubies glistened on the floor like drops of blood as they made their way toward the marble staircase.

“We’re going to the hospital wing,” said Ginny.

“I’m not hurt,” said Harry.

“It’s McGonagall’s orders,” said Ginny. “Everyone’s up there, Ron and Hermione and Lupin and everyone—”

Fear stirred in Harry’s chest again: He had forgotten the inert figures he had left behind.

“Ginny, who else is dead?”

“Don’t worry, none of us.”

“But the Dark Mark—Malfoy said he stepped over a body—”

“He stepped over Bill, but it’s all right, he’s alive.”

There was something in her voice, however, that Harry knew boded ill.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure… he’s a—a bit of a mess, that’s all. Greyback attacked him. Madam Pomfrey says he won’t—won’t look the same anymore…”

Ginny’s voice trembled a little.

“We don’t really know what the aftereffects will be—I mean, Greyback being a werewolf, but not transformed at the time.”

“But the others… There were other bodies on the ground…”

“Neville and Professor Flitwick are both hurt, but Madam Pomfrey says they’ll be all right. And a Death Eater’s dead, he got hit by a Killing Curse that huge blond one was firing off everywhere—Harry, if we hadn’t had your Felix potion, I think we’d all have been killed, but everything seemed to just miss us—”

They had reached the hospital wing. Pushing open the doors, Harry saw Neville lying, apparently asleep, in a bed near the door. Ron, Hermione, Luna, Tonks, and Lupin were gathered around another bed near the far end of the ward. At the sound of the doors opening, they all looked up. Hermione ran to Harry and hugged him; Lupin moved forward too, looking anxious.

“Are you all right, Harry?”

“I’m fine… How’s Bill?”

Nobody answered. Harry looked over Hermione’s shoulder and saw an unrecognizable face lying on Bill’s pillow, so badly slashed and ripped that he looked grotesque. Madam Pomfrey was dabbing at his wounds with some harsh-smelling green ointment. Harry remembered how Snape had mended Malfoy’s Sectumsempra wounds so easily with his wand.

“Can’t you fix them with a charm or something?” he asked the matron.

“No charm will work on these,” said Madam Pomfrey. “I’ve tried everything I know, but there is no cure for werewolf bites.”

“But he wasn’t bitten at the full moon,” said Ron, who was gazing down into his brother’s face as though he could somehow force him to mend just by staring. “Greyback hadn’t transformed, so surely Bill won’t be a—a real—?”

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<== попередня сторінка	\|	наступна сторінка ==>
He and Hagrid moved, dreamlike, through the murmuring crowd to the very front, where the dumbstruck students and teachers had left a gap.	\|	He looked uncertainly at Lupin.

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