Harry was flung up and down in the air as Voldemort shouted “Crucio!” with delight. There was no pain, no terrible crushing pain, Voldemort’s spells were useless.
The pale, snake-faced Lord ordered Hagrid to carry Harry’s body; Harry felt Hagrid’s sobs making his whole frame shudder. Voldemort stepped lightly over the twigs and leaves on the forest floor, over to where Harry lay as if dead. He brushed the messy fringe from Harry’s face, ran an idle finger down the heartbreaking jawline; softly pressed the full, pink lips that had spoken so harshly to him a moment ago. So young.
No comments:
Post a Comment