Pamiętnikiem opiekuje się Selena
Do 5 marca 2009 roku pamiętnikiem opiekowała się Mysia-Karolina

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Poniedziałek, 27 Lipca, 2009, 17:54

Znowu podejrzane drzwi

No, Wampirzyco, bardzo Ci dziêkujê . I wszystko (no dobra, prawie wszystko ) wyja¶ni siê w krótkiej, ale tre¶ciwej nastêpnej notce. Pozdrawiam moich nielicznych czytelników i zapraszam do Hermionki.

Przesta³em ju¿ w ogóle uwa¿aæ na lekcji. Kiedy¶ przynajmniej stara³em siê s³uchaæ McGonagall, ale teraz jako¶ odechcia³o mi siê bezskutecznie próbowaæ zamieniaæ mysz w ig³ê.
Rose. Co to by³a za dziewczyna? Czym siê kierowa³a? Strachem? Zastanowi³em siê. Co je¿eli kto¶ j± torturowa³, a ona chce siê na nim zem¶ciæ? Chyba powinienem to komu¶ powiedzieæ. Po pierwsze: nie wolno u¿ywaæ zaklêæ po lekcjach, po drugie: zaklêcia niewybaczalne s± niewybaczalne. Pierwszy powód do mnie jako¶ nie przemawia³, ale drugi- owszem. Ja nigdy nie próbowa³bym u¿ywaæ t a k i c h zaklêæ. Ale ona najwyra¼niej nie by³a mn±.
P³aka³a- przypomnia³em sobie. Wtedy, kiedy wszed³em do znikaj±cego pokoju… Nagle siê ockn±³em. Drzwi! Mia³em je obejrzeæ ju¿ dawno, dawno temu! Nie zrobi³em tego. Obieca³em sobie, ¿e zrobiê to od razu po lekcji.
-Longbottom.- powiedzia³a ostro McGonagall.- Czy ty chocia¿ próbowa³e¶ zamieniæ t± mysz?
Z min± winowajcy spu¶ci³em g³owê i z uwag± wpatrywa³em siê w swoje czarne buty. Widzia³em jak pani profesor wzdycha z rezygnacj±.
-Zostaniesz ze mn± po lekcji.- oznajmi³a.
I tak upad³ mój wspania³y plan odkrycia tajemnicy Znikaj±cych Drzwi.
*
-Longbottom, widzê, ¿e czym¶ siê martwisz.- zaczê³a McGonagall patrz±c siê na mnie z uwag±.- Wiesz, ¿e mo¿esz mi o tym powiedzieæ? Postaram ci siê pomóc. Nauczyciele, nie s± tylko po to, ¿eby karaæ, czy uczyæ. Wiem, ¿e nie masz ³atwo- twoja babcia jest bardzo wymagaj±ca- dlatego chcia³abym, ¿eby¶ zrozumia³, ¿e my- nauczyciele- nie jeste¶my potworami. Chcia³by¶ mi co¶ powiedzieæ?
Jej ton g³osu- ³agodny, spokojny, prawie czu³y- zaskoczy³ mnie. Nie podejrzewa³em, ¿e McGonagall mog³aby siê do mnie w ten sposób odezwaæ. Oczywi¶cie, nie by³a jakim¶ mutantem, potworem, czy innym gadem, ale kojarzy³a mi siê raczej z kim¶ surowym, trzymaj±cym siê sztywno wyznaczonych sobie i innym zasad. Zastanowi³em siê. Mia³em jej teraz opowiedzieæ o Rose? To by³a jedyna okazja. Innej mog³em nie dostaæ. Rose mia³a jakie¶ usprawiedliwienie- to na pewno. Ale co z tego? Czy takie postêpowanie, mog³o cokolwiek usprawiedliwiæ? Raczej nie. Ju¿ otwiera³em usta, aby wyja¶niæ McGonagall, co my¶lê o córce Dumbledore’ a, ale przed oczami pojawi³a mi siê jej twarz. Blada, z ³agodnym spojrzeniem.
-N… nie.- wyduka³em w koñcu.
Zbeszta³em siê. Co ja wyprawiam? Ona rzuca³a zaklêcia niewybaczalne, jak doros³a osoba, z wieloletnim do¶wiadczeniem. Przemknê³o mi przez g³owê, jedno s³owo- wampir. Odrzuci³em je natychmiast. To by³o niedorzeczne! Wampiry nie istnia³y. Owszem, czarodzieje tak, ale nie wampiry! Obce gatunki! Mo¿e jeszcze UFO? Wilko³aki? Mutanty? Nie, nie, nie. Chyba powinienem siê przespaæ, je¿eli takie pomys³y chodz± mi po g³owie.
Nie zwróci³em nawet uwagi na McGonagall, która patrzy³a siê na mnie z niepokojem. Pogr±¿ony we w³asnych rozmy¶laniach wyszed³em z sali.
-Dziêkuje.- mrukn±³em tylko cicho, wychodz±c.
Postanowi³em od razu przej¶æ do Znikaj±cych Drzwi. Im szybciej dowiem siê, co jest grane tym lepiej. Mo¿e przy okazji spotkam gdzie¶ Rose, us³yszê jak±¶ plotkê o stanie zdrowia Goyle’ a? Pogr±¿ony w rozmy¶leniach, doszed³em do miejsca, gdzie powinno znajdowaæ siê wej¶cie do tajemniczego pokoiku. Nic, czysty marmur. Beznadzieja. Dotkn±³em zimnej ¶ciany, chc±c wyczuæ jakie¶ drgawki, albo wgniecenie. Nic. Obejrza³em siê za siebie. Musia³em wygl±daæ jak idiota. Idiota, chory na umy¶le.
-Cze¶æ.- us³ysza³em g³os za swoimi plecami.
Wzdrygn±³em siê i szybko za siebie odwróci³em. Za mn± sta³a piêkna jak zawsze Rose. Nie u¶miecha³a siê, ani nie p³aka³a. By³a bardzo powa¿na.
-Mog³abym z tob± porozmawiaæ?- spyta³a patrz±c siê na mnie.
Skin±³em g³ow±. Rose wyci±gnê³a rêkê i siêgnê³a za klamkê znajduj±c± siê za mn±. Ze zdziwienia otworzy³em oczy. Co to mia³o byæ? Ogl±dam ¶cianê sam- drzwi nie ma. Przychodzi Rose- drzwi siê pojawiaj±? Wytrzeszczaj±c oczy, wszed³em za dziewczyn± do pokoju. Kiedy przej¶cie zamknê³o siê z g³o¶nym trzaskiem, podskoczy³em nerwowo. Ba³em siê. Tak, ba³em siê dziewczyny! Ba³em siê córki Dumbledore’ a! Ba³em siê Rose! By³em ¿a³osny. Czarnow³osa zauwa¿y³a mój odruch i westchnê³a cicho.
-Nic ci nie zrobiê.- po czym usiad³a na sofie i poklepa³a miejsce ko³o siebie.- Usi±d¼.
Spojrza³em siê na ni± z pow±tpiewaniem, ale pos³usznie spe³ni³em pro¶bê. Rose spojrza³a siê mi g³êboko w oczy. Nadal by³y czarne, ale patrzy³y na mnie z uczuciem- lêkiem, smutkiem, nadziej±.
-Czy chcia³by¶ wys³uchaæ mojej historii?- spyta³a.
Skin±³em g³ow±.

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