chapter13

harry

pery’sgotaprojet.

hetellsittothemoveradrinkatthehog’shead,standinginfrontoftheroomwithhiseyesshining,glisteningoverwithtears.glisteningwiththeghostsofhispasts,ritahadwroteone,andnowlookingatperyhehadanideaofwhatthatwassupposedtolooklike.

“thiswasahorrible,horriblething.thewar.”peryswallowedhard,andharrydranktherestofhisbeerjusttogivehimselfsomethingtodo.besidehim,drao’shandfoundhiswayontoharry’slegunderhthetable,fittostaystindthenletgo.“butitwashistoryinthemaking.andsomeonehastotellit,tomakesurethepeoplewhoomeafterusknowhowitstarted,sotheyanseethevoldemortforwhatheis—justaman.”

thesentenewasalmostamirrorimageofthethingthatharryhadbeentryingtoonvinehimselfofshefinalbattle.howintheendtomriddlewasonlytom,andwhenhediedhedidnotgooutinabzeofgloryorforaause,heonlyfellhardandfinalontheoldground,likeapuppetwhosestringshadbeenut.likehereallywasonlyaman.

“therewerealotofpeoplewhodidgoodthingsduringthattime.andtherewerepeoplewhodidbadthings.whenhefirstrosetopowerandseemedtohavebeendefeated,wetriedtoshoveallthememoriesundertherug,andnoneofusknewanythingaboutit.butthistimewe’renotmakingmistakes.therewereheroesinthiswar,someoftheminthisveryroom.”heraiseshisgssinasembneofatoast,andthepeoplearoundharrywerenodding.geepoundedhisgssdownonthewoodentable,andtherewasaansweringheerastheylookedaroundateahother.everyoneinthisroomhadfought,everyonewasforedtogrieve.“weshouldknowtheirnames.”

harryknewthatallofthemhadgottenalittleobsessedwithsomethingafterthewar.forpery,itwasreolletion,ofhearingallthestoriesandgettingthemdownasfastasheould,therig

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