Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - Rowling Joanne Kathleen (бесплатные версии книг .txt) 📗

Harry managed not to roll his eyes, but with difficulty. This question had also been addressed half a dozen times.

“As I’ve told you,” he said through gritted teeth, “Kingsley is protecting the Mug—I mean, your Prime Minister.”

“Exactly—he’s the best!” said Uncle Vernon, pointing at the blank television screen. The Dursleys had spotted Kingsley on the news, walking along the Muggle Prime Minister as he visited a hospital. This, and the fact that Kingsley had mastered the knack of dressing like a Muggle, not to mention a certain reassuring something in his slow, deep voice, had caused the Dursleys to take to Kingsley in a way that they had certainly not done with any other wizard, although it was true that they had never seen him with earring in.

“Well, he’s taken,” said Harry. “But Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle are more than up to the job—”

“If we’d even seen CVs…” began Uncle Vernon, but Harry lost patience. Getting to his feet, he advanced on his uncle, now pointing at the TV set himself.

“These accidents aren’t accidents—the crashed and explosions and derailments and whatever else has happened since we last watched the news. People are disappearing and dying and he’s behind it—Voldemort. I’ve told you this over and over again, he kills Muggles for fun. Even the fogs—they’re caused by Dementors, and if you can’t remember what they are, ask your son!”

Dudley’s hands jerked upward to tower his mouth. With his parents’ and Harry’s eyes upon him, he slowly lowered them again and asked, “There are… more of them?”

“More?” laughed Harry. “More than the two that attacked us, you mean? Of course there are hundreds, maybe thousands by this time, seeing as they feed off fear and despair—”

“All right, all right,” blustered Vernon Dursley. “You’ve made your point—”

“I hope so,” said Harry, “because once I’m seventeen, all of them—Death Eaters, Dementors, maybe even Inferi—which means dead bodies enchanted by a Dark wizard—will be able to find you and will certainly attack you. And if you remember the last time you tried to outrun wizards, I think you’ll agree you need help.”

There was a brief silence in which the distant echo of Hagrid smashing down a wooden front door seemed to reverberate through the intervening years. Aunt Petunia was looking at Uncle Vernon; Dudley was staring at Harry. Finally Uncle Vernon blurted out, “But what about my work? What about Dudley’s school? I don’t suppose those things matter to a bunch of layabout wizards—”

“Don’t you understand?” shouted Harry. “They will torture and kill you like they did my parents!”

“Dad,” said Dudley in a loud voice, “Dad—I’m going with these Order people.”

“Dudley,” said Harry, “for the first time in your life, you’re talking sense.”

He knew the battle was won. If Dudley was frightened enough to accept the Order’s help, his parents would accompany him. There could be no question of being separated from their Duddykins. Harry glanced at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece.

“They’ll be here in about five minutes,” he said, and when one of the Dursleys replied, he left the room. The prospect of parting—probably forever—from his aunt, uncle, and cousin was one that he was able to contemplate quite cheerfully but there was nevertheless a certain awkwardness in the air. What did you say to one another at the end of sixteen years’ solid dislike?

Back in his bedroom, Harry fiddled aimlessly with his rucksack, then poked a couple of owl nuts through the bats of Hedwig’s cage. They fell with dull thuds to the bottom where she ignored them.

“We’re leaving soon, really soon,” Harry told her. “And then you’ll be able to fly again.”

The doorbell rang. Harry hesitated, then headed back out of his room and downstairs. It was too much to expect Hestia and Dedalus to cope with the Dursleys on their own.

“Harry Potter!” squeaked an excited voice, the moment Harry had opened the door; a small man in a mauve top hat that was sweeping him a deep bow. “An honor, as ever!”

“Thanks, Dedalus,” said Harry, bestowing a small and embarrassed smile upon the dark haired Hestia. “It’s really good of you to do this… They’re through here, my aunt and uncle and cousin…”

“Good day to you, Harry Potter’s relatives!” said Dedalus happily striding into the living room. The Dursleys did not look at all happy to be addressed thus; Harry half expected another change of mind. Dudley shrank neared to his mother at the sight of the witch and wizard.

“I see you are packed and ready. Excellent! The plan, as Harry has told you, is a simple one,” said Dedalus, pulling an immense pocket watch out of his waistcoat and examining it. “We shall be leaving before Harry does. Due to the danger of using magic in your house—Harry being still underage it could provide the Ministry with an excuse to arrest him—we shall be driving, say, ten miles or so before Disapparating to the safe location we have picked out for you. You know how to drive, I take it?” he asked Uncle Vernon politely.

“Know how to—? Of course I ruddy well know how to drive!” spluttered Uncle Vernon.

“Very clever of you, sir, very clever. I personally would be utterly bamboozled by all those buttons and knobs,” said Dedalus. He was clearly under the impression that he was flattering Vernon Dursley, who was visibly losing confidence in the plan with every word Dedalus spoke.

“Can’t even drive,” he muttered under his breath, his mustache rippling indignantly, but fortunately neither Dedalus nor Hestia seemed to hear him.

“You, Harry,” Dedalus continued, “will wait here for your guard. There has been a little change in the arrangements—”

“What d’you mean?” said Harry at once. “I thought Mad-Eye was going to come and take me by Side-Along-Apparition?”

“Can’t do it,” said Hestia tersely, “Mad-Eye will explain.”

The Dursleys, who had listened to all of this with looks of utter incomprehension on their faces, jumped as a loud voice screeched, “Hurry up!” Harry looked all around the room before realizing the voice had issued from Dedalus’s pocket watch.

“Quite right, we’re operating to a very tight schedule,” said Dedalus, nodding at his watch and tucking it back into his waistcoat. “We are attempting to time your departure from the house with your family’s Disapparition, Harry: thus the charm breaks the moment you all head for safety.” He turned to the Dursleys, “Well, are we all packed and ready to go?”

None of them answered him. Uncle Vernon was still staring appalled at the bulge in Dedalus’s waistcoat pocket.

“Perhaps we should wait outside in the hall, Dedalus,” murmured Hestia. She clearly felt that it would be tactless for them to remain the room while Harry and the Dursleys exchanged loving, possibly tearful farewells.

“There’s no need,” Harry muttered, but Uncle Vernon made any further explanation unnecessary by saying loudly,

“Well, this is good-bye, then, boy.”

He swung his right arm upward to shake Harry’s hand, but at the last moment seemed unable to face it, and merely closed his fist and began swinging it backward and forward like a metronome.

“Ready, Diddy?” asked Petunia, fussily checking the clasp of her handbag so as to avoid looking at Harry altogether.

Dudley did not answer, but stood there with his mouth slightly ajar, reminding Harry a little of the giant, Grawp.

“Come along, then,” said Uncle Vernon.

He had already reached the living room door when Dudley mumbled, “I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand, popkin?” asked Petunia looking up at her son.

Dudley raised a large, hamlike hand to point at Harry.

“Why isn’t he coming with us?”

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia froze when they stood staring at Dudley as though he had just expressed a desire to become a ballerina.

“What?” said Uncle Vernon loudly.