Chapter 19 / Into the Maze
Ik ga vanaf vandaag enkele weekjes in verlof. Ik ben terug op woensdag 9/01/18 met een nieuw hoofdstukje!
Bij deze wens ik jullie een prettig kerstfeest en een jaar vol creativiteit, verwondering, optimisme, avontuur, warmte, passie, geduld, humor, ontspanning, durf en respect. Ik hoop dat al jullie dromen uit mogen komen.
Veel liefs, Ellie
The phoenix let out one soft, quavering note. Harry took a deep breath and began to speak. As he spoke, I felt like I was there with him. I saw the sparkling surface of the potion that had revived Voldemort, I saw the Death Eaters apparating between the graves around them, I saw Cedric’s body, lying on the ground beside the cup. The hairs on my arms stood up again, as the realisation hit me that he really was back. The Dark Lord, my biological father, the darkest wizard of all times, was back. From now on, nothing would be the same again. Nobody would be safe anymore. The Ministry of Magic would be in disarray, not knowing what to do, trying to keep everything hidden from Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles would be dying too. Terror, panic, confusion everywhere. Light flashed before my eyes before I could focus on Harry’s voice again.
Once or twice, Sirius made a noise as though about to say something, his hand still tight on Harry’s shoulder, but Dumbledore raised his hand to stop him. When Harry told of Wormtail piercing his arm with the dagger, however, Sirius let out a vehement exclamation and Dumbledore stood up so quickly I had a jump scare.
Dumbledore walked around the desk and told Harry to stretch out his arm. Harry showed us both the place where his robes were torn and the cut beneath them.
‘He said my blood would make him stronger than if he’d used someone else’s,’ Harry told Dumbledore. ‘He said the protection my — my mother left in me — he’d have it too. And he was right — he could touch me without hurting himself, he touched my face.’
For a fleeting instant, I thought I saw a gleam of something like triumph in Dumbledore’s eyes. But when Dumbledore had returned to his seat behind the desk, he looked as old and weary as I had ever seen him.
‘Very well,’ he said, sitting down again. ‘Voldemort has overcome that particular barrier. Harry, continue, please.’
Harry went on; he explained how Voldemort had emerged from the cauldron, and told us all he could remember of Voldemort’s speech to the Death Eaters. He didn’t dare to look me in the eye when he told us that my so-called father and my mother had apparated and Mr. Malfoy too. I closed my eyes as I imagined the horror Draco would have to endure during the summer.
Then Harry told how Voldemort had untied him, returned his wand to him, and prepared to duel, connecting their wands together. That’s when he choked.
Sirius broke the silence. ‘The wands connected?’ he said, looking from Harry to Dumbledore. ‘Why?’
I looked up at Dumbledore, on whose face there was an arrested look.
‘Priori Incantatem,’ he muttered. His eyes gazed into Harry’s and it was almost as though an invisible beam of understanding shot between them.
‘The Reverse Spell effect?’ I said sharply.
‘Exactly,’ said Dumbledore. ‘Harry’s wand and Voldemort’s wand share cores. Each of them contains a feather from the tail of the same phoenix. This phoenix, in fact,’ he added, and he pointed at the scarlet-and-gold bird, perching peacefully on Harry’s knee.
‘My wand’s feather came from Fawkes?’ Harry said, amazed.
‘Yes,’ said Dumbledore. ‘Mr. Ollivander wrote to tell me you had bought the second wand, the moment you left his shop four years ago.’
‘So what happens when a wand meets its brother?’ I asked.
‘They will not work properly against each other,’ said Dumbledore. ‘If, however, the owners of the wands force the wands to do battle . . . a very rare effect will take place. One of the wands will force the other to regurgitate spells it has performed — in reverse. The most recent first . . . and then those which preceded it. . . .’ He looked interrogatively at Harry, and Harry nodded. ‘Which means,’ said Dumbledore slowly, his eyes upon Harry’s face, ‘that some form of Cedric must have reappeared.’ Harry nodded again.
‘Diggory came back to life?’ I asked.
‘No spell can reawaken the dead,’ said Dumbledore heavily. ‘All that would have happened is a kind of reverse echo. A shadow of the living Cedric would have emerged from the wand . . . am I correct, Harry?’
‘He spoke to me,’ Harry said. He was suddenly shaking, so I took his hand and gave a little squeeze. ‘The . . . the ghost Cedric, or whatever he was, spoke.’
‘An echo,’ said Dumbledore, ‘which retained Cedric’s appearance and character. I am guessing other such forms appeared . . . less recent victims of Voldemort’s wand. . . .’
‘An old man,’ Harry said, his throat still constricted. ‘Bertha Jorkins. And . . .’
‘Your parents?’ said Dumbledore quietly.
‘Yes,’ said Harry. Sirius’s grip on Harry’s shoulder tightened.
‘The last murders the wand performed,’ said Dumbledore, nodding. ‘In reverse order. More would have appeared, of course, had you maintained the connection. Very well, Harry, these echoes, these shadows . . . what did they do?’
Harry described how the figures that had emerged from the wand had prowled the edges of the golden web, how Voldemort had seemed to fear them, how the shadow of Harry’s father had told him what to do, how Cedric’s had made its final request.
At this point, Harry didn’t continue. Sirius had his face in his hands.
‘I will say it again,’ said Dumbledore. ‘You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight, Harry. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard’s burden and found yourself equal to it — and you have now given us all that we have a right to expect. You will come with me to the hospital wing. I do not want you returning to the dormitory tonight. A Sleeping Potion, and some peace . . . Sirius, would you like to stay with him?’
Sirius nodded and stood up. He transformed back into the great black dog, which made me gasp.
‘That’s how you escaped?’ I asked, before I could catch myself. I perched my lips together and looked at the ground. ‘I’m sorry. Not my business.’
The dog waged his tail and walked with us out of the office, down a flight of stairs to the hospital wing.