He looked around at the darkness, as if hoping a bad enough word would swoop down upon him and claim him.

“You’ve sort of made up for it tonight,” said Harry. “Getting the sword. Finishing off the Horcrux. Saving my life.”

“That makes me sound a lot cooler than I was,” Ron mumbled.

“Stuff like that always sounds cooler than it really was,” said Harry. “I’ve been trying to tell you that for years.”

Simultaneously they walked forward and hugged, Harry gripping the still-sopping back of Ron’s jacket.

“And now,” said Harry as they broke apart, “all we’ve got to do is find that tent again.”

But it was not difficult. Though the walk through the dark forest with the doe had seemed lengthy, with Ron by his side, the journey back seemed to take a surprisingly short time. Harry could not wait to wake Hermione, and it was with quickening excitement that he entered the tent, Ron lagging a little behind him.

It was gloriously warm after the pool and the forest, the only illumination the bluebell flames still shimmering in a bowl on the floor. Hermione was fast asleep, curled up under her blankets, and did not move until Harry had said her name several times.

“Hermione!”

She stirred, then sat up quickly, pushing her hair out of her face.

“What’s wrong? Harry? Are you all right?”

“It’s okay, everything’s fine. More than fine, I’m great. There’s someone here.”

“What do you mean? Who—?”

She saw Ron, who stood there holding the sword and dripping onto the threadbare carpet. Harry backed into a shadowy corner, slipped off Ron’s rucksack, and attempted to blend in with the canvas.

Hermione slid out of her bunk and moved like a sleepwalker toward Ron, her eyes upon his pale face. She stopped right in front of him, her lips slightly parted, her eyes wide. Ron gave a weak hopeful smile and half raised his arms.

Hermione launched herself forward and started punching every inch of him that she could reach.

“Ouch—ow—gerroff! What the—? Hermione—OW!”

“You—complete—arse—Ronald—Weasley!”

She punctuated every word with a blow: Ron backed away, shielding his head as Hermione advanced.

“You—crawl—back—here—after—weeks—and—weeks—oh, where’s my wand?”

She looked as though ready to wrestle it out of Harry’s hands and he reacted instinctively.

“Protego!”

The invisible shield erupted between Ron and Hermione. The force of it knocked her backward onto the floor. Spitting hair out of her mouth, she lept up again.

“Hermione!” said Harry. “Calm—”

“I will not calm down!” she screamed. Never before had he seen her lose control like this; she looked quite demented. “Give me back my wand! Give it back to me!”

“Hermione, will you please—”

“Don’t you tell me what do, Harry Potter!” she screeched. “Don’t you dare! Give it back now! And YOU!”

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<== попередня сторінка	\|	наступна сторінка ==>
On the ground in front of them, Ron’s face filled with anguish. He raised the sword high, his arms shaking.	\|	She was pointing at Ron in dire accusation: It was like a malediction, and Harry could not blame Ron for retreating several steps.

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