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[Novel] 【连载】《哈利波特》---《Harry Potter》中英对照

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举报只看楼主使用道具楼主发表于: 2013-10-23 0

《哈利·波特与魔法石》（《Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone》）

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这是一个异乎寻常的星期二，住在女贞路4号的德思礼先生看见一只花斑猫正在家门口不远的地方看地图，而且听电视上说：一贯昼伏夜出的猫头鹰今天一早就四处纷飞，连专家们也无法解释这种反常现象。
就在这天晚上，失去父母的一岁男孩哈利·波特神秘地出现在女贞路4号的门前，开始了在他姨父姨母家饱受欺凌的生活。姨夫和姨母好似凶神恶煞，经常对他大吼大叫，一直把他关在楼梯下的碗橱里。他们还有一个混世魔王一般的儿子达力，更是经常对瘦弱的哈利拳脚相加。
十年过去了，住在姨夫姨母家的哈利从来没有过过生日。但是在他十一岁生日那天，一切都发生了变化。一只猫头鹰送来了一封信：邀请哈利去一个他从来没有听说过的神奇地方——霍格沃茨魔法学校——去上学。
九月一日那天，哈利来到古堡般的魔法学校：大礼堂的天花板上闪烁着耀眼的星星，白色的幽灵在学生们的头顶上飘荡，宽大的餐桌上凭空出现了美味佳肴，会说话的肖像需要学生说出口令才能通行……这里的一切——从上课到吃饭到睡觉都充满了魔法。这里还有形形色色的老师：慈祥和蔼的老校长邓布利多教授，严厉正直的格兰芬多院长麦格教授，处处呵护哈利的海格，还有不知怎的总是看哈利不顺眼、不断找他茬儿的斯内普教授。不过最让哈利波特高兴的是，他结识了两个朋友——忠厚善良的男孩罗恩和聪明伶俐的女孩赫敏。当然，同学中还有趾高气扬、一心与他作对的男孩德拉科·马尔福……
哈利开始学习自己以前从来不知道的魔法，他学会了空中飞行，学会了使用基础咒语，还学会了骑着扫帚打魁地奇球。一件可以让他随时从别人视线中消失的隐形衣更给了他出入任何场合的自由。
然而，在这一切的背后，似乎有一种更加神秘的力量始终萦绕在哈利的周围：他额头上那道由伤害他父母的凶手留下的闪电形伤痕现在比起十年来的任何时候都更加频繁地隐隐作痛，而且一次比一次厉害；哈利和罗恩、赫敏偶然发现学校三楼的一个房间里竟然有一条长着三个脑袋的大狗；魔法界的银行古灵阁离奇被盗；黑魔法防御术课教师奇洛的头上为什么总是莫名其妙地围着一条大围巾，还发出令人恶心的味道……
这一切都与一块神秘的魔法石有关，都与那个杀死了哈利的父母、被人称为"伏地魔"的邪恶巫师有关，从此哈利开始了他在魔法世界中艰难多舛的命运……

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CHAPTER ONE

et Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.
　　Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.
　　The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.
　　When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.
　　None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.
　　At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.
　　It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar -- a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen -- then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive -- no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.
　　But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes -- the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt -- these people were obviously collecting for something... yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.
　　Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swoop ing past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open- mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.
　　He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.
　　 "The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard yes, their son, Harry"
　　Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.
　　He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking... no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her -- if he'd had a sister like that... but all the same, those people in cloaks...
　　He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.
　　"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"
　　And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.
　　Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.
　　As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw -- and it didn't improve his mood -- was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.
　　"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly. The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.
　　Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:
　　"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"
　　"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early -- it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."
　　Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters...
　　Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er -- Petunia, dear -- you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"
　　As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.
　　"No," she said sharply. "Why?"
　　"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..."
　　"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley.
　　"Well, I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you know... her crowd."
　　Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son -- he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"
　　"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.
　　"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"
　　"Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."
　　"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."
　　He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.
　　Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did... if it got out that they were related to a pair of -- well, he didn't think he could bear it.
　　The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind.... He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on -- he yawned and turned over -- it couldn't affect them....
　　How very wrong he was.
　　Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.
　　A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.
　　Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.
　　Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."
　　He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again -- the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.
　　"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."
　　He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.
　　"How did you know it was me?" she asked.
　　"My dear Professor, I 've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."
　　"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.
　　"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."
　　Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.
　　"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no -- even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls... shooting stars.... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent -- I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."
　　"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."
　　"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."
　　She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day YouKnow-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"
　　"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"
　　"A what?"
　　"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of"
　　"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone -"
　　"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You- Know-Who' nonsense -- for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name.
　　"I know you haven 't, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."
　　"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."
　　"Only because you're too -- well -- noble to use them."
　　"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."
　　Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"
　　It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.
　　"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are -- are -- that they're -- dead. "
　　Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.
　　"Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... Oh, Albus..."
　　Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know... I know..." he said heavily.
　　Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But -- he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke -- and that's why he's gone.
　　Dumbledore nodded glumly.
　　"It's -- it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"
　　"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."
　　Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"
　　"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"
　　"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."
　　"You don't mean -- you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore -- you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son -- I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"
　　"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."
　　"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous -- a legend -- I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future -- there will be books written about Harry -- every child in our world will know his name!"
　　"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! CarA you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"
　　Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes -- yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.
　　"Hagrid's bringing him."
　　"You think it -- wise -- to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"
　　I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.
　　"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to -- what was that?"
　　A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky -- and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.
　　If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild - long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.
　　"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"
　　"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sit," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."
　　"No problems, were there?"
　　"No, sir -- house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."
　　Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.
　　"Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGonagall.
　　"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."
　　"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"
　　"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well -- give him here, Hagrid -- we'd better get this over with."
　　Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.
　　"Could I -- could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.
　　"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"
　　"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it -- Lily an' James dead -- an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles -"
　　"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.
　　"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."
　　"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall -- Professor Dumbledore, sir."
　　Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.
　　"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.
　　Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.
　　"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.
　　A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley... He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter -- the boy who lived!"

第一章　大难不死的男孩
　
　

　
　　家住女贞路四号的德思礼夫妇总是得意地说他们是非常规矩的人家。拜托，拜托了。他们从来跟神秘古怪的事不沾边，因为他们根本不相信那些邪门歪道。
　
　　弗农德思礼先生在一家名叫格朗宁的公司做主管，公司生产钻机。他高大魁梧，胖得几乎连脖子都没了，却蓄着一脸大胡子。德思礼太太是个瘦削的金发女人。她的脖子几乎比正常人长一倍。这样每当她花许多时间隔着篱墙引颈而望、窥探左邻右舍时，她的长脖子可就派上了大用场。德思礼夫妇有一个小儿子，名叫达力。在他们看来，人世间没有比达力更好的孩子了。
　
　　德思礼一家什么都不缺，但他们拥有一个秘密，他们最害怕的就是这秘密会被人发现。他们想，一旦有人发现波特一家的事，他们会承受不住的。波特太太是德思礼太太的妹妹，不过她们已经有好几年不见面了。实际上，德思礼太太佯装自己根本没有这么个妹妹，因为她妹妹和她那一无是处的妹夫与德思礼一家的为人处世完全不一样。一想到邻居们会说波特夫妇来到了，德思礼夫妇会吓得胆战心惊。他们知道波特也有个儿子，只是他们从来没有见过。这孩子也是他们不与波特夫妇来往的一个很好的借口，他们不愿让达力跟这种孩子厮混。
　
　　我们的故事开始于一个晦暗、阴沉的星期二，德思礼夫妇一早醒来，窗外浓云低垂的天空并没有丝毫迹象预示这地方即将发生神秘古怪的事情。德思礼先生哼着小曲，挑出一条最不喜欢的领带戴着上班，德思礼太太高高兴兴，一直絮絮叨叨，把唧哇乱叫的达力塞到了儿童椅里。
　
　　他们谁也没留意一只黄褐色的猫头鹰扑扇着翅膀从窗前飞过。
　
　　八点半，德思礼先生拿起公文包，在德思礼太太面颊上亲了一下，正要亲达力，跟这个小家伙道别，可是没有亲成，小家伙正在发脾气，把麦片往墙上摔。“臭小子。”德思礼先生嘟哝了一句，咯咯笑着走出家门，坐进汽车，倒出四号车道。
　
　　在街角上，他看到了第一个异常的信号——一只猫在看地图。一开始，德思礼先生还没弄明白他看到了什么，于是又回过头去。只见一只花斑猫站在女贞路的路口，但是没有看见地图。他到底在想些什么？很可能是光线使他产生了错觉吧。德思礼先生眨了眨眼，盯着猫着，猫也瞪着他。当德思礼先生拐过街角继续上路的时候，他从后视镜里看看那只猫。猫这时正在读女贞路的标牌，不，是在看标牌；猫是不会读地图或是读标牌的。德思礼先生定了定神，把猫从脑海里赶走。他开车进城，一路上想的是希望今天他能得到一大批钻机的定单。
　
　　但快进城时，另一件事又把钻机的事从他脑海里赶走了。当他的车汇入清晨拥堵的车流时，他突然看见路边有一群穿着奇装异服的人。他们都披着斗篷。德思礼先生最看不惯别人穿得怪模怪样，瞧年轻人的那身打扮！他猜想这大概又是一种无聊的新时尚吧。他用手指敲击着方向盘，目光落到了离他最近的一大群怪物身上。他们正兴致勃勃，交头接耳。德思礼先生很生气，因为他发现他们中间有一对根本不年轻了，那个男的显得比他年龄还大，竟然还披着一件翡翠绿的斗篷！真不知羞耻！接着，德思礼先生突然想到这些人大概是为什么事募捐吧，不错，就是这么回事。车流移动了，几分钟后德思礼先生来到了格朗宁公司的停车场，他的思绪又回到了钻机上。
　
　　德思礼先生在他九楼的办公室里，总是习惯背窗而坐。如果不是这样，他可能会发现这一天早上他更难把思想集中到钻机的事情上了。他没有看见成群的猫头鹰在光天化日之下从天上飞过，可街上的人群都看到了；他们目瞪口呆，指指点点，盯着猫头鹰一只接一只从头顶上掠过。他们大多甚至夜里都从未见过猫头鹰。德思礼先生这天早上很正常，没有受到猫头鹰的干扰。他先后对五个人大喊大叫了一遍，又打了几个重要的电话，喊的声音更响。他的情绪很好，到吃午饭的时候，他想舒展一下筋骨，到马路对角的面包房去买一只小甜圆面包。
　
　　若不是他在面包房附近又碰到那群披斗篷的人，他早就把他们忘了。他经过他们身边时，狠狠地瞪了他们一眼。他说不清这是为什么，只是觉得这些人让他心里别扭。这些人正嘁嘁喳喳，讲得起劲，但他连一只募捐箱也没有看见。当他拎着装在袋里的一只大油饼往回走，经过他们身边时，他们的话断断续续飘入他的耳鼓：
　
　　“波特夫妇，不错，我正是听说……”
　
　　“……没错，他们的儿子，哈利……”
　
　　他突然停下脚步，恐惧万分。他回头朝窃窃私语的人群看了一眼，似乎想听他们说点什么，后来又改变了主意。
　
　　他急忙冲到马路对面，回到办公室，厉声吩咐秘书不要来打扰他，然后抓起话筒，刚要拨通家里的电话，临时又变了卦。他放下话筒，摸着胡须，琢磨起来
……不，他太愚蠢了。波特并不是一个稀有的姓，肯定有许多人姓波特，而且有儿子叫哈利。想到这里，他甚至连自己的外甥是不是哈利波特都拿不定了。他甚至没有见过这孩子。说不定叫哈维，或者叫哈罗德。没有必要让太太烦心，只要一提起她妹妹，她总是心烦意乱。他并不责怪她，要是他自己有一个那样的妹妹呢？可不管怎么说，这群披斗篷的人……那天下午，他发现自己很难专心考虑钻机的事。五点钟他走出办公室大楼，依旧心事重重，与站在门口的一个人撞了个满怀。
　
　　这个小老头打了个趔趄，差点儿摔倒。“对不起。”德思礼先生嘟哝着说。过了几秒钟，他才发现这人披了一件紫罗兰色斗篷。他几乎被撞倒在地，可他似乎一点儿不生气，脸上反而绽出灿烂的笑容。“您不用道歉，尊贵的先生，因为今天没有事会惹我生气！太高兴了，因为‘神秘人’总算走了！就连像你这种麻瓜，也应该好好庆贺这大喜大庆的日子！”他说话的声音尖细刺耳，令过往的人侧目。
　
　　老头说完，搂了搂德思礼先生的腰，就走开了。
　
　　德思礼先生站在原地一动不动，仿佛生了根。他刚刚被一个完全陌生的人搂过。他还想到自己被称做“麻瓜”，不知这是什么意思。他心乱如麻，连忙朝自己的汽车跑去，开车回家。他希望这一切只是幻象，他从来没有幻想过什么，因为他根本不赞同幻想。当他驶入四号车道时，第一个映入眼帘的就是早上他见过的那只花斑猫，这并没有使他的心情好转。这时猫正坐在他家花园的院墙上。他肯定这只猫和早上的是同一只：眼睛周围的纹路一模一样。
　
　　“去……去！”德思礼先生大喝道。
　
　　猫纹丝不动，只是狠狠地瞪了他一眼。这难道是一只正常的猫的行为吗？德思礼先生感到怀疑。他先让自己镇定下来，随后就进屋去了。他仍决定对太太只字不提。
　
　　德思礼太太这一天过得很好，一切正常。晚饭桌上，德思礼太太向他讲述了邻居家的母女矛盾，还说达力又学会一个新词(“绝不”)，德思礼先生也尽量表现得正常。安顿达力睡下之后，他来到起居室，听到晚间新闻的最后一段报道：“最后，据各地鸟类观察者反映，今天全国猫头鹰表现反常。通常情况下，它们都是在夜间捕食，白天很少露面，可是今天，日出时猫头鹰就四处纷飞。专家们也无法解释猫头鹰为什么改变了它们的睡眠习惯。”新闻播音员说到这里，咧嘴一笑，“真是太奇妙了。现在我把话筒交给吉姆麦古，问问他天气情况如何。吉姆，今天夜里还会下猫头鹰雨吗？”
　
　　“噢，泰德，”气象播音员说，“这我可不知道，今天不仅是猫头鹰表现反常。全国各地远至肯特郡、约克郡、丹地①等地的目击者都纷纷打来电话说，我们原来预报昨天有雨，结果下的不是雨而是流星！也许人们把本该在一星期后举行的庆祝篝火之夜②晚会提前举行了，朋友们！不过我向你们保证，今晚一定有雨。”
　
　　德思礼先生坐在扶手椅里惊呆了。英国普遍下流星雨……猫头鹰光天化日之下四处纷飞……到处都是披着斗篷的怪人……还有一些传闻，关于波特一家的传闻……德思礼太太端着两杯茶来到起居室。情况不妙。他应该向她透露一些。他心神不定，清了清嗓子，“唔……佩妮，亲爱的……最近有你妹妹的消息吗？”
　
　　不出所料，德思礼太太大为吃惊，也很生气。不管怎么说，他们通常都说自己没有这么个妹妹。
　
　　“没有，”她厉声说，“怎么了？”
　
　　“今天的新闻有点奇怪，”德思礼先生咕哝说，“成群的猫头鹰……流星雨
……今天城里又有那么多怪模怪样的人……”
　
　　“那又怎么样？”德思礼太太急赤白脸地说。
　
　　“哦，我是想……说不定……这跟……你知道……她那一群人有关系……”
　
　　德思礼太太嘬起嘴唇呷了一口茶。德思礼先生不知道自己是不是该大胆地把听到“哈利”名字的事告诉她。他决定还是不要太冒失。于是他尽量漫不经心地改口说：“他们的儿子，他现在该有达力这么大了吧？”
　
　　“我想是吧。”德思礼太太干巴巴地说。
　
　　“他叫什么名字来着？是叫霍华德吧？”
　
　　“叫哈利，要我说，这是一个不讨人喜欢的普通名字。”
　
　　“哦，是的。”德思礼先生说着，感到心里突然往下一沉，“不错，我也这么想。”
　
　　他们上楼睡觉时，他就再也没有提到这个话题了。德思礼太太进浴室以后。德思礼先生就轻手轻脚来到卧室窗前，看看前面的花园。那只猫还在原地，正目不转睛地盯着女贞路路口，好像在等待什么。
　
　　他是在想入非非吗？这一切会与波特一家有关吗？如果真有关系……如果最后真跟他们夫妇有关……那么，他认为他是承受不住的。
　
　　德思礼夫妇睡下了。德思礼太太很快就睡着了，德思礼先生却思绪万千，怎么也睡不着觉。不过在他入睡前，最后一个想法使他感到安慰：即使波特一家真的被卷了进去，也没有理由牵连他和他太太。波特夫妇很清楚德思礼夫妇对他们和他们那群人的看法。他打了个哈欠，翻过身去。不会影响他们的……他可是大错特错了。
　
　　德思礼先生迷迷糊糊，本来可能胡乱睡上一觉，可花园墙头上的那只猫却没有丝毫睡意。它卧在墙头上，宛如一座雕像，纹丝不动，目不转睛地盯着女贞路远处的街角。邻街的一辆汽车砰的一声关上车门，两只猫头鹰扑扇着从头顶上飞过，它也一动不动。实际上，快到午夜时，它才开始动了动。
　
　　猫一直眺望着的那个街角出现了一个男人，他来得那样突然，悄无声息，简直像是从地里冒出来的。猫尾巴抖动了一下，眼睛眯成了一条缝。
　
　　女贞路上从来没有见过这个男人。他个子瘦高，银发和银须长到都能够塞到腰带里了，凭这一点就可以断定他年纪已经很大了。他穿一件长袍，披一件掩到地的紫色斗篷，登一双带搭扣的高跟靴子。半月形的眼镜后边二对湛蓝湛蓝的明亮眼睛闪闪放光。他的鼻子很长，但是扭歪了，看来至少断过两次。他的名字叫阿不思邓布利多。
　
　　阿不思邓布利多似乎并没有意识到从他的名字到他的靴子，在他来到的这条街上都不受欢迎。他忙着在斗篷口袋里翻寻，好像在找什么东西。他也没有发现有人监视他，因为他突然抬头看见一直在街那头注视着他的那只猫，出于某种原因，他觉得这只猫的样子很好笑。他咯咯笑着，嘟哝说：“我早就该想到了。”
　
　　他在里边衣袋里找出了他要找的东西，看起来像一只银制打火机。他把它轻轻弹开，高举起来，咔哒一声，离得最近的一盏路灯噗的一声熄灭了。他又打了一下，第二盏灯也熄灭了。他用熄灯器打了十二次，整条街上只剩下远处两个小小的光点，那就是监视他的那只猫的两只眼睛。如果这时有人向窗外看，即使是眼尖的德思礼太太，也不会看到马路上发生的一切。邓布利多把熄灯器放回斗篷里边的口袋里，之后就顺着街道向四号走去。他在墙头猫的身边坐下来。他没有看它，但过了一会儿便跟它说起话来。
　
　　“真没想到会在这里见到您，麦格教授。”
　
　　他回头朝花斑猫微微一笑。花斑猫不见了，换成一个神情严肃的女人，戴一副方形眼镜，看起来跟猫眼睛周围的纹路一模一样。她也披了一件翠绿色斗篷，乌黑的头发挽成一个很紧的发髻。她显得非常激动。
　
　　“您怎么认出那是我？”她问。
　
　　“我亲爱的教授，我从来没有见过一只猫像这样僵硬地待着。”
　
　　“您要是在砖墙上坐一整天，您也会变僵的。”麦格教授说。
　
　　“一整天？您本来应当参加庆祝会的呀？我一路来到这里，至少遇上了十二场欢快的聚会和庆祝活动。”麦格教授气呼呼地哼了一声。
　
　　“哦，不错，人人都在庆贺，很好！”她恼火地说，“您以为他们会更小心谨慎，其实不然，连麻瓜们都注意到有什么事情发生了，都上了他们的电视新闻了。”她猛地把头转向德思礼家漆黑的起居室窗口，“我都听见了。成群的猫头鹰……流星雨……好了，他们也不是十足的傻瓜。有些事也会引起他们的注意。肯特郡下的那场流星雨……我敢说准是迪歌干的。他本来就没多少头脑。”
　
　　“您不能责怪他们，”邓布利多心平气和地说，“十一年来值得我们庆贺的事太少了。”
　
　　“这我知道，”麦格教授气呼呼地说，“但这些并不是冒险胡来的理由。他们也太不小心了，大白天跑到街上去，也不穿上麻瓜们的衣服，还在那里传递消息。”
　
　　说到这里，她机敏地朝邓布利多斜瞟了一眼，似乎希望他能告诉她些什么，但邓布利多没有吱声，于是她接着说：“神秘人终于不见了，如果正好在他失踪的那一天，麻瓜们发现了我们的一切，那可真太奇妙了。我想他真的走了吧，邓布利多？”
　
　　“好像是这样，”邓布利多说，“我们应该感到欣慰。您来一块柠檬雪糕好吗？”
　
　　“一块什么？”“一块柠檬雪糕。这是麻瓜们的一种甜点。我非常喜欢。”
　
　　“不了，谢谢。”麦格教授冷冷地说，看来她认为现在不是吃柠檬雪糕的时候。“像我说的，即使‘神秘人’真的走了……”
　
　　“我亲爱的教授，像您这样的明白人，总该可以直呼他的大名吧？什么神秘人不神秘人的，全都是瞎扯淡……十一年了，我一直想方设法说服大家，直呼他本人的名字：伏地魔。”麦格教授打了个寒噤，可邓布利多在掰两块粘在一起的雪糕，似乎没有留意。“要是我们还继续叫神秘人神秘人的，一切就都乱套了。我看直呼伏地魔的大名也没有任何理由害怕。”
　
　　“我知道您不害怕，”麦格教授半是恼怒，半是夸赞地说，“尽人皆知，您与众不同。神秘人……哦，好吧，伏地魔……惟一害怕的就是您。”
　
　　“您太抬举我了。”邓布利多平静地说，“伏地魔拥有我永远也不会有的功力。”
　
　　“那是因为您太……哦……太高尚了，不愿意运用它。”
　
　　“幸亏这里很黑，庞弗雷夫人说她喜欢我的新耳套以后，我还没有像现在这样脸红过呢。”
　
　　麦格教授狠狠地瞪了邓布利多一眼，说：“猫头鹰和沸沸扬扬的谣言毫不相干。您知道大伙都在说什么吗？说他为什么失踪？说最终是什么制止了他？”
　
　　这一来，麦格教授似乎点到了她急于想讨论的问题核心，这也正是她在冰冷的砖墙上守候了一整天的原因。不管她是一只猫，或是一个女人，她从来都不曾用现在这样锐利的眼光看邓布利多。显然，不管大家怎么说，只有从邓布利多口中得到证实，她才会相信。邓布利多却挑了另一块柠檬雪糕，没有答话。
　
　　“他们说，”她不依不饶地说，“昨天夜里伏地魔绕到高锥克山谷。他们是去找波特夫妇的，谣传莉莉和詹姆波特都……都他们都已经……死了。”
　
　　邓布利多低下头。麦格教授倒抽了一口气，“这……这是真的吗？莉莉和詹姆……我不相信……我也不愿相信……哦，阿不思……”
　
　　邓布利多伸手拍了拍她肩膀。“我知道……我知道……”他心情沉重地说。
　
　　麦格教授接着往下说，她的声音颤抖了。“还不止这些。他们说，他还想杀波特夫妇的儿子哈利，可是没有成功。他杀不死那个孩子。没有人知道为什么，也没有人知道怎么会杀不死。不过他们说，当伏地魔杀不死哈利的时候，他的功法就不知怎的失灵了，所以他才走掉了。”
　
　　邓布利多愁眉不展地点了点头。
　
　　“这……这是真的吗？”麦格教授用颤巍巍的声音说，“他做了这么多坏事
……杀了这么多人……可竟然杀不了一个孩子？这简直令人震惊……我们想了那么多办法去阻止他……可苍天在上，哈利究竟是怎么幸免于难的呢？”
　
　　“我们只能猜测，”邓布利多说，“我们可能永远也不会知道。”
　
　　麦格教授掏出一块花边手帕轻轻拭了拭镜片后边的眼睛。邓布利多深深吸了一口气，从衣袋里掏出一块金表，认真看起来。那只表样子很奇怪，有十二根指针，却没有数字，还有一些小星沿着表盘边缘转动。邓布利多显然看明白了，他把表放回衣袋，说：“海格肯定迟到了。顺便问一句，我想，大概是他告诉您我要到这里来的吧？”
　
　　“是的，”麦格教授说，“可去的地方多了，您为什么偏偏要到这里来呢？我想，您大概不会告诉我吧？”
　
　　“我是来接哈利，把他送到他姨妈姨父家的。现在他们是他惟一的亲人。”
　
　　“您不会是指……您不可能是指住在这里的那家人吧？”她噌地跳起来，指着四号那一家，“邓布利多……您可不能这么做。我观察他们一整天了。您找不到比他们更不像你我这样的人了。他们还有一个儿子……我看见他在大街上一路用脚踢他母亲，吵着要糖吃。要哈利波特住在这里？！”
　
　　“这对他是最合适的地方了。”邓布利多坚定地说，“等他长大一些，他的姨妈姨父会向他说明一切。我给他们写了一封信。”
　
　　“一封信？”麦格教授有气无力地重复说，又坐回到墙头上。“邓布利多，您当真认为用一封信您就能把一切都解释清楚吗？这些人永远也不会理解他的！他会成名的……一个传奇人物……如果将来有一天把今天定为哈利波特日，我一点儿也不会觉得奇怪……会有许多写哈利的书……我们世界里的每一个孩子都会知道他的名字！”
　
　　“说得对极了，”邓布利多说，他那半月形眼镜上方的目光显得非常严肃，“这足以使任何一个孩子冲昏头脑。不会走路、不会说话的时候就一举成名！甚至为他根本不记得的事情而成名！让他在远离过去的地方成长，直到他能接受这一切，再让他知道，不是更好吗？”
　
　　麦格教授张开嘴，改变了看法。她咽了口唾沫，接着说：“是啊……是啊，当然您是对的。可怎么把孩子弄到这里来呢，邓布利多？”她突然朝他的斗篷看了一眼，好像他会把哈利藏在斗篷里。
　
　　“海格会把他带到这里来。”“把这么重要的事情托付给海格去办……您觉得……明智吗？”“我可以把我的身家性命托付给他。”邓布利多说。
　
　　“我不是说他心术不正，”麦格教授不以为然地说，“可是您不能不看到他很粗心。他总是……那是什么声音？”
　
　　一阵低沉的隆隆声划破了周围的寂静。当他们来回搜索街道上是否有汽车前灯的灯光时，响声越来越大，最后变成一阵吼叫。他们抬眼望着天空，只见一辆巨型摩托自天而降，停在他们面前的街道上。
　
　　如果说摩托是一辆巨型摩托，那么骑车人就更不在话下了。那人比普通人高一倍，宽度至少有五倍，似乎显得出奇地高大，而且粗野地纠结在一起的乱蓬蓬的黑色长发和胡须几乎遮住了大部分脸庞，那双手有垃圾桶盖那么大，一双穿着皮靴的脚像两只小海豚。他那肌肉发达的粗壮双臂抱着一卷毛毯。
　
　　“海格，”邓布利多说，听起来像松了一口气，“你总算来了。这辆摩托车你是从哪里弄来的？”
　
　　“是借来的，邓布利多教授，”巨人一边小心翼翼地跨下摩托车，一边说，“是小天狼星布莱克借给我的。我把他带来了，先生。”
　
　　“没有遇到麻烦吧？”
　
　　“没有，先生。房子几乎全毁了。我们赶在麻瓜们从四面八方汇拢来之前把他抱了出来。当我们飞越布里斯托尔③上空的时候，他睡着了……”

　　邓布利多和麦格教授朝那卷毛毯俯下身去。他们看见毛毯里裹着一个男婴，睡得正香。孩子前额上一绺乌黑的头发下边有一处刀伤，伤口形状很奇怪，像一道闪电。
　
　　“这地方就是……”麦格教授低声说。
　
　　“是的，”邓布利多说，“他一辈子都要带着这道伤疤了。”
　
　　“你不能想想办法吗？邓布利多？”
　
　　“即使有办法，我也不会去做。伤疤今后可能会有用处。我左边膝盖上就有一个疤，是一幅完整的伦敦地铁图。好了，把他给我吧。海格，咱们最好还是把事情办妥。”
　
　　邓布利多把哈利拖在怀里，朝德思礼家走去。
　
　　“我能……我能跟他告别一下吗？先生？”海格问。
　
　　他把毛发蓬乱的大头凑到哈利脸上，给了他一个胡子拉碴、痒乎乎的吻。接着海格突然像一只受伤的狗号叫了一声。
　
　　“嘘！”麦格教授嘘了他一声，“你会把麻瓜们吵醒的！”
　
　　“对……对……对不起，”海格抽抽搭搭地说，掏出一块污渍斑斑的大手帕来，把脸埋在手帕里，“我……我实在受……受不了……莉莉和詹姆死了……可怜的小哈利又要住在麻瓜们家里……”
　
　　“是啊，是啊，是令人难过，可你得把握住自己，不然我们会被发现的。”麦格教授小声说，轻轻拍了一下海格的臂膀。
　
　　这时邓布利多正跨过花园低矮的院墙，朝大门走去。他轻轻把哈利放到大门口的台阶上，从斗篷里掏出一封信，塞到哈利的毛毯里，然后回到另外两个人身边。他们三人站在那里对小小的毯子注视了足有一分钟。海格的肩膀在抖动，麦格教授拼命眨眼，邓布利多一向闪光的眼睛也暗淡无光了。
　
　　“好了，”邓布利多终于说，“到此结束了。我们没有必要继续待在这里。咱们还是去参加庆祝会吧。”
　
　　“是啊，”海格咕哝说，“我得去把车还给小天狼星。晚安，麦格教授。晚安，邓布利多教授。”
　
　　海格用外衣衣袖揩了揩流泪的眼睛，跨上摩托，踩着了发动机，随着一声吼叫，摩托车腾空而起，消失在夜色里。
　
　　“希望很快和您见面，麦格教授。”邓布利多朝麦格教授点头说。她擤了擤鼻子作为回答。
　
　　邓布利多转身来到街上。他在街角上掏出银制熄灯器，咔哒弹了一下，只见十二个火球又回到各自的路灯上，女贞路顿时映照出一片橙黄，他看见一只花斑猫正悄悄从街那头的拐角溜掉了。他恰好可以看见四号台阶上放着的那个用毯子裹着的小包。
　
　　“祝你好运，哈利。”他喃喃地说道，接着跺脚跟一转身，只听斗篷飕的一声，他已经消失得无影无踪了。
　
　　微风拂动着女贞路两旁整洁的树篱，街道在漆黑的天空下寂静无声，一尘不染，谁也不会想到这里会发生骇人听闻的事情。哈利波特在毯子包里翻了个身，但他并没有醒。他的一只小手正好放在那封信旁边。他还继续沉睡，一点不知道他很特殊，不知道他名气很大，不知道再过几小时，等德思礼太太开大门放奶瓶时，他会被她的尖叫声吵醒；更不会知道，在未来的几个星期，他表哥达力会对他连捅带戳，连掐带拧……他也不可能知道，就在此刻，全国人都在秘密聚会。人们高举酒杯悄声说：“祝福大难不死的孩子——哈利·波特！”
　

　
　　①肯特郡在英格兰南部。约克郡在英格兰北部。丹地是英格兰北部海港。
　　②指每年11月5日在英国举行的庆祝篝火之夜活动。
　　③布里斯托尔，英格兰西南部港甜城市，艾文郡首府，临布里斯托尔海峡。

　

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举报只看该作者板凳发表于: 2013-10-23 0

　　CHAPTER TWO
　　THE VANISHING GLASS
　　Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets -- but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house, too.
　　Yet Harry Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.
　　"Up! Get up! Now!"
　　Harry woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again.
　　"Up!" she screeched. Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. He had a funny feeling he'd had the same dream before.
　　His aunt was back outside the door.
　　"Are you up yet?" she demanded.
　　"Nearly," said Harry.
　　"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."
　　Harry groaned.
　　"What did you say?" his aunt snapped through the door.
　　"Nothing, nothing..."
　　Dudley's birthday -- how could he have forgotten? Harry got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.
　　When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise -- unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley's favorite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn't often catch him. Harry didn't look it, but he was very fast.
　　Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age. He looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's, and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. He wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing Harry liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. He had had it as long as he could remember, and the first question he could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he had gotten it.
　　"In the car crash when your parents died," she had said. "And don't ask questions."
　　Don't ask questions -- that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.
　　Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon.
　　"Comb your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting.
　　About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put
　　together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way -- all over the place.
　　Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel -- Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.
　　Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.
　　"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."
　　"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy."
　　"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.
　　Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right''
　　Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty ... thirty..."
　　"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.
　　"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."
　　Uncle Vernon chuckled. "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.
　　 At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.
　　"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take him." She jerked her head in Harry's direction.
　　Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Harry's heart gave a leap. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.
　　"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he'd planned this. Harry knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when he reminded himself it would be a whole year before he had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again.
　　"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.
　　"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy."
　　The Dursleys often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn't there -- or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug.
　　"What about what's-her-name, your friend -- Yvonne?"
　　"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia.
　　"You could just leave me here," Harry put in hopefully (he'd be able to watch what he wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley's computer).
　　Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon.
　　"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.
　　"I won't blow up the house," said Harry, but they weren't listening.
　　"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "... and leave him in the car...."
　　"That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone...."
　　Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying -- it had been years since he'd really cried -- but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.
　　"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.
　　"I... don't... want... him... t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "He always sp- spoils everything!" He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.
　　Just then, the doorbell rang -- "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically -- and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.
　　Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn't believe his luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. His aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry aside.
　　"I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry's, "I'm warning you now, boy -- any funny business, anything at all -- and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."
　　"I'm not going to do anything," said Harry, "honestly..
　　But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No one ever did.
　　The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn't make them happen.
　　Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left "to hide that horrible scar." Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly.
　　Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley's (brown with orange puff balls) -- The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn't punished.
　　On the other hand, he'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley's gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to Harry's surprise as anyone else's, there he was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry's headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he'd tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid- jump.
　　But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, his cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room.
　　While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank, and Harry were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.
　　"... roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook them.
　　I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry, remembering suddenly. "It was flying."
　　Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"
　　Dudley and Piers sniggered.
　　I know they don't," said Harry. "It was only a dream."
　　But he wished he hadn't said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than his asking questions, it was his talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon -- they seemed to think he might get dangerous ideas.
　　It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry what he wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice pop. It wasn't bad, either, Harry thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond.
　　Harry had the best morning he'd had in a long time. He was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting him. They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry was allowed to finish the first.
　　Harry felt, afterward, that he should have known it was all too good to last.
　　After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can -- but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.
　　Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.
　　"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.
　　"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.
　　"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.
　　Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself -- no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least he got to visit the rest of the house.
　　The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's.
　　It winked.
　　Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. He looked back at the snake and winked, too.
　　The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly:
　　"I get that all the time.
　　"I know," Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the snake could hear him. "It must be really annoying."
　　The snake nodded vigorously.
　　"Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry asked.
　　The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it.
　　Boa Constrictor, Brazil.
　　"Was it nice there?"
　　The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see -- so you've never been to Brazil?"
　　As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump.
　　"DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"
　　Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.
　　"Out of the way, you," he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened -- one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.
　　Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.
　　As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come.... Thanksss, amigo."
　　The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.
　　"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"
　　The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "Harry was talking to it, weren't you, Harry?"
　　Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Go -- cupboard -- stay -- no meals," before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.
　　Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. He didn't know what time it was and he couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, he couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food.
　　He'd lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as he could remember, ever since he'd been a baby and his parents had died in that car crash. He couldn't remember being in the car when his parents had died. Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burn- ing pain on his forehead. This, he supposed, was the crash, though he couldn't imagine where all the green light came from. He couldn't remember his parents at all. His aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course he was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house.
　　When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were his only family. Yet sometimes he thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know him. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to him once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry furiously if he knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at him once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken his hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harry tried to get a closer look.
　　At school, Harry had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley's gang hated that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang.
　　CHAPTER THREE
　　THE LETTERS FROM NO ONE
　　The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry his longest-ever punishment. By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.
　　Harry was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favorite sport: Harry Hunting.
　　This was why Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where he could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came he would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in his life, he wouldn't be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.
　　"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told Harry. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"
　　"No, thanks," said Harry. "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it -- it might be sick." Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he'd said.
　　One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg wasn 't as bad as usual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. She let Harry watch television and gave him a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd had it for several years.
　　That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.
　　As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up. Harry didn't trust himself to speak. He thought two of his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh.
　　There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harry went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. He went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.
　　"What's this?" he asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question.
　　"Your new school uniform," she said.
　　Harry looked in the bowl again.
　　"Oh," he said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet."
　　"DotA be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."
　　Harry seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. He sat down at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to look on his first day at Stonewall High -- like he was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably.
　　Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.
　　They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.
　　"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.
　　"Make Harry get it."
　　"Get the mail, Harry."
　　"Make Dudley get it."
　　"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."
　　Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and -- a letter for Harry.
　　Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives -- he didn't belong to the library, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:
　　Mr. H. Potter
　　The Cupboard under the Stairs
　　4 Privet Drive
　　Little Whinging
　　 Surrey
　　The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp.
　　Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.
　　"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.
　　Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope.
　　Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.
　　"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk. --."
　　"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Harry's got something!"
　　Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Uncle Vernon.
　　"That's mine!" said Harry, trying to snatch it back.
　　"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.
　　"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.
　　Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.
　　"Vernon! Oh my goodness -- Vernon!"
　　They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.
　　"I want to read that letter," he said loudly. want to read it," said Harry furiously, "as it's mine."
　　"Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.
　　Harry didn't move.
　　I WANT MY LETTER!" he shouted.
　　"Let me see it!" demanded Dudley.
　　"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor.
　　"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address -- how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"
　　"Watching -- spying -- might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.
　　"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want --"
　　Harry could see Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen.
　　"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer... Yes, that's best... we won't do anything....
　　"But --"
　　"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"
　　That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard.
　　"Where's my letter?" said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to me?"
　　"No one. it was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned it."
　　"It was not a mistake," said Harry angrily, "it had my cupboard on it."
　　"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.
　　"Er -- yes, Harry -- about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking... you're really getting a bit big for it... we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom.
　　"Why?" said Harry.
　　"Don't ask questions!" snapped his uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."
　　The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took Harry one trip upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room. He sat down on the bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched.
　　From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, I don't want him in there... I need that room... make him get out...."
　　Harry sighed and stretched out on the bed. Yesterday he'd have given anything to be up here. Today he'd rather be back in his cupboard with that letter than up here without it.
　　Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. Harry was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing he'd opened the letter in the hall. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.
　　When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's another one! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive --'"
　　With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry's letter clutched in his hand.
　　"Go to your cupboard -- I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Harry. "Dudley -- go -- just go."
　　Harry walked round and round his new room. Someone knew he had moved out of his cupboard and they seemed to know he hadn't received his first letter. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time he'd make sure they didn't fail. He had a plan.
　　The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and dressed silently. He mustn't wake the Dursleys. He stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights.
　　He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. His heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall toward the front door --
　　Harry leapt into the air; he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat -- something alive!
　　Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harry realized that the big, squashy something had been his uncle's face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harry didn't do exactly what he'd been trying to do. He shouted at Harry for about half an hour and then told him to go and make a cup of tea. Harry shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time he got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap. Harry could see three letters addressed in green ink.
　　I want --" he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before his eyes. Uncle Vernon didnt go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.
　　"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up."
　　"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon."
　　"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.
　　On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harry. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.
　　Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" as he worked, and jumped at small noises.
　　On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Harry found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.
　　"Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Dudley asked Harry in amazement.
　　On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.
　　"No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today --"
　　Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one.
　　"Out! OUT!"
　　Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.
　　"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"
　　He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag.
　　They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while. "Shake'em off... shake 'em off," he would mutter whenever he did this.
　　They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs he'd wanted to see, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer.
　　Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley and Harry shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but Harry stayed awake, sitting on the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering....
　　They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.
　　"'Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got about an 'undred of these at the front desk."
　　She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:
　　Mr. H. Potter
　　Room 17
　　Railview Hotel
　　Cokeworth
　　Harry made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out of the way. The woman stared.
　　"I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.
　　Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.
　　"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared.
　　It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dud ley sniveled.
　　"It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television. "
　　Monday. This reminded Harry of something. If it was Monday -- and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days the week, because of television -- then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harry's eleventh birthday. Of course, his birthdays were never exactly fun -- last year, the Dursleys had given him a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks. Still, you weren't eleven every day.
　　Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought.
　　"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!"
　　 It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there.
　　"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"
　　A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them.
　　"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!"
　　It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.
　　The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.
　　Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up.
　　"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully.
　　He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Harry privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer him up at all.
　　As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry was left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket.
　　The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry couldn't sleep. He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger. Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Harry he'd be eleven in ten minutes' time. He lay and watched his birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now.
　　Five minutes to go. Harry heard something creak outside. He hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although he might be warmer if it did. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that he'd be able to steal one somehow.
　　Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?
　　One minute to go and he'd be eleven. Thirty seconds... twenty ... ten... nine -- maybe he'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him -- three... two... one...
　　BOOM.
　　The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.

第二章　悄悄消失的玻璃
　
　

　
　　自从德思礼夫妇一觉醒来在大门口台阶上发现他们的外甥以来，快十年过去了，女贞路却几乎没有变化。太阳依旧升到屋前整洁的花园上空，照亮德思礼家大门上的四号铜牌；阳光悄悄爬进他们的起居室，这里和德思礼先生当年收看关于猫头鹰的重大新闻的那个晚上一模一样。只有壁炉台上的照片显示出流逝了多少时光。十年前，这里摆放着许多照片，看上去就像戴着五颜六色婴儿帽的一只粉红色的大海滩气球，只是达力已不再是婴儿了，照片上是一个大头男孩骑着他的第一辆自行车，在博览会上乘坐旋转木马，跟父亲玩电脑游戏，被母亲拥着亲吻。这个房间里没有任何迹象表明这栋房子里还住着另一个男孩。
　
　　哈利波特还住在这里，此刻他正在睡觉，但不会太久。他的佩妮姨妈已经醒了，每天这里发出的第一声噪音就是她的尖叫声。
　
　　“起来！起床了！赶快！”
　
　　哈利被惊醒了。他的姨妈又在拍打他的房门。
　
　　“起来！”她尖叫道。哈利听见她朝厨房走去，接着就是煎锅放到炉子上的声音。他翻身背对着门，尽力回忆刚才做过的梦。那是一个好梦。梦里有一辆会飞的摩托车。他感到很有趣，似乎以前也做过同样的梦。
　
　　姨妈又来到门外。
　
　　“你起来了吗？”她追问。
　
　　“快了。”哈利说。
　
　　“快了，那就赶紧，我要你看着熏咸肉。你敢把它煎糊了试试。我要达力生日这一天一切都顺顺当当。”
　
　　哈利咕哝了一声。
　
　　“你说什么？”姨妈又在厉声问。
　
　　“没什么，没什么……”达力的生日，他怎么会忘记呢？哈利慢慢吞吞地从床上爬起来，开始找袜子。他从床底下找到一双袜子，从其中一只袜子上抓下一只蜘蛛，然后把袜子穿上。哈利对蜘蛛早就习惯了，因为楼梯下边的碗柜里到处是蜘蛛，而他就睡在那里。
　
　　他穿好了衣服，顺着走廊来到厨房里。餐桌几乎被达力的生日礼物堆得满满的。看来达力收到了他想要的新电脑，至于第二台电视机，还有跑车就更不在话下了。达力为什么想要一辆赛车，这对于哈利来说，是一个谜，因为达力胖乎乎的，而且讨厌锻炼。当然，除非这种锻炼包括拳脚相加。他最喜欢的拳击吊球就是哈利，可他并不是经常能抓住他。哈利看起来很单薄，但他动作机敏。
　
　　也许和哈利长年住在黑洞洞的碗柜里有些关系，他显得比他的同龄人瘦小。他看上去甚至比他实际的身材还要瘦小，因为他只能穿达力的旧衣服，而达力要比他高大三四倍。哈利有一张消瘦的面孔、膝盖骨突出的膝盖、乌黑的头发和一对翠绿的眼睛。他戴着一副用许多透明胶带粘在一起的圆框眼镜，因为达力总用拳头揍他的鼻子。哈利对自己的外表最喜欢的就是额头上那道像闪电似的淡淡的疤痕。这道疤痕从他记事起就有了，他记得他问佩妮姨妈的第一个问题就是这道伤疤是怎么落下的。
　
　　“是在你父母被撞死的那场车祸中落下的。”她这么说，“不许问问题。”不许问问题——要与德思礼一家相安无事，这是规章的第一条。
　
　　弗农姨父来到厨房时，哈利正在翻熏咸肉。
　
　　“把你的头发梳一梳！”他咆哮着，这是他早晨见面打招呼的方式。
　
　　几乎每周一次，弗农姨父从他的报纸上方看看哈利，对哈利大喊大叫说他该去理发了。哈利理发的次数要比他班上所有的同学理发次数的总和还要多，可一点也不起作用，他的头发照旧疯长。
　
　　哈利正在煎蛋的时候，达力和他母亲一起来到厨房。达力更像弗农姨父：一张粉红色的银盆大脸，脖子很短，一对水汪汪的蓝眼睛，浓密的金发平整地贴在他那厚实的胖乎乎的脑袋上。佩妮姨妈常说达力长得像小天使，可哈利却说他像一头戴假发的猪。
　
　　哈利把一盘盘煎蛋和熏咸肉放到餐桌上，这可不容易，因为桌上已经没有多余的地方了。
　
　　这时达力正在清点他的礼品，他的脸沉了下来。“三十六，”他抬头看着父母亲说，“比去年少两件。”
　
　　“亲爱的，你还没算上玛姬姑妈送给你的礼物呢。你看，在你妈妈爸爸送给你的大包下边呢。”
　
　　“好吧，那就三十七件。”达力说，他的脸涨得通红。哈利看得出达力就要大发雷霆了，于是趁达力还没有把餐桌掀翻，连忙狼吞虎咽，把他的一份熏咸肉一扫而光。
　
　　佩妮姨妈显然也嗅出了危险的信号，连忙说：“今天我们上街的时候，再去给你买两件礼物。怎么样，宝贝。再买两件礼物，这样好了吧？”
　
　　达力想了一会儿，这似乎是一件很困难的工作。最后他总算慢慢吞吞地说：“那我就有三十……三十……”
　
　　“三十九件，我的心肝宝贝。”佩妮姨妈说。
　
　　“哦，”达力重重地坐下来，抓起离他最近的一只礼包，“那好吧。”
　
　　弗农姨父咯咯地笑了，“这小机灵鬼是在算他的进账呢，这一点跟他老爸一模一样。有你的，好小子，达力！”他揉了揉达力的头发。
　
　　这时电话铃响了，佩妮姨妈跑去接电话。哈利和弗农姨父看着达力拆包，一辆赛车、一台摄像机、一架遥控飞机、十六盘新出的电脑游戏光盘和一台磁带录像机。他正在撕开一块金表的包装时，佩妮姨妈接完电话回来了，显得又生气，又着急。
　
　　“坏消息，弗农，”她说，“费格太太把腿摔断了，不能来接他了。”她朝哈利那边点了一下头。
　
　　达力吓得张口结舌，哈利却高兴得心里怦怦直跳。每年达力生日那一天，他的父母总带着他和另一位朋友出去玩一天，上游乐园，吃汉堡包或是看电影。把哈利留给费格太太，一个住在离这里有两条街的疯老婆子。哈利讨厌费格太太住的地方，满屋子都是卷心菜味；费格太太还非要他看她过去养过的几只猫咪的照片。
　
　　“现在怎么办？”佩妮姨妈气急败坏地看着哈利，仿佛这一切都是哈利一手策划的。哈利知道他应当为费格太太摔断腿感到难过，但是当他想到要整整一年之后他才会再见到踢踢、雪儿、爪子先生和毛毛（都是猫的名字），他又觉得难过不起来了。
　
　　“咱们给玛姬挂个电话吧。”弗农姨父建议说。
　
　　“别犯傻了，弗农，她讨厌这孩子。”
　
　　德思礼夫妇经常这样当面谈论哈利，仿佛哈利根本不在场，甚至认为他是一个非常讨厌的听不懂他们讲话的东西，比如像一条鼻涕虫。
　
　　“她叫什么来着，你的那位朋友……伊芬，怎么样？”
　
　　“上马约卡岛①度假去了。”她厉声说。
　
　　“你们可以把我留在家里。”哈利满怀希望地插嘴说。（这样他就可以看他想看的电视节目，改变一下口味，说不定还能试着玩一把达力的电脑。）佩妮姨妈看起来像刚刚吞下了一只柠檬。
　
　　“好让我们回来看到整个房子都给毁了？”她大吼道。
　
　　“我不会把房子炸掉的。”哈利说。可他们根本不听。
　
　　“我想我们可以带他到动物园去，”佩妮姨妈慢吞吞地说，“……然后把他留在车上……”
　
　　“那是辆新车，不能让他一个人待在车上……”
　
　　达力大哭起来。其实，他并没有真哭，他已经有好多年没有真的哭过了。他知道，只要他一哭丧着脸，嗷嗷地号叫，母亲就会满足他的任何要求。
　
　　“我的好心肝宝贝，别哭，妈妈不会让他搅乱你的好日子的！”她喊着，一下子把他搂到怀里。
　
　　“我……不……想让……他……去……去！”达力一边抽抽搭搭地假哭，一边断断续续地大喊大叫，“他总是把什么都弄坏了！”他躲在母亲臂弯里不怀好意地朝哈利撇嘴一笑。
　
　　正在这时，门铃响了。
　
　　“哎呀，天哪，他们来了！”佩妮姨妈慌慌张张地说。过了一会儿，达力最要好的朋友皮尔波奇斯和他的母亲一起进来了。皮尔瘦骨嶙峋，脸像老鼠脸。像他这种人总是在达力打人的时候，把挨打人的双手反剪在背后，牢牢抓住。达力立刻不装哭了。
　
　　哈利简直不敢相信自己这么走运。半小时后，他和皮尔、达力坐在德思礼的私家车后座，生平第一次向通往动物园的路上驶去了。他姨父姨妈想不出任何别的办法安置他，不过在动身前，弗农姨父把哈利叫到一旁。
　
　　“我警告你，”他把红得发紫的大脸凑到哈利跟前说，“我现在警告你，小子，只要你干出一点点蠢事……干出任何事……那你就在你的碗柜里待着，等圣诞节再出来吧。”
　
　　“我什么事也不会做的，”哈利说，“真的……”
　
　　但弗农姨父不相信他。从来没有人相信他的话。问题是哈利周围常常会发生一些怪事，即使你磨破嘴皮对德思礼夫妇说那些事与哈利无关，也是白费唇舌。
　
　　每次哈利理发回来总像根本没有理过一样，有一次佩妮姨妈实在按捺不住，就从厨房里拿出一把剪刀几乎把他的头发剪光了，只留下前面一绺头发“盖住他那道可怕的伤疤”。这把达力笑得前仰后合，可哈利却整夜睡不着，思前想后，不知明天该怎么去上学，同学们本来就拿他那身松松垮垮的衣服和用胶带粘牢的眼镜当笑话。可到了第二天一早他起床的时候，竟发现自己的头发又恢复到了佩妮姨妈剪它以前的样子。尽管他拼命辩白，自己也弄不清头发为什么这么快就长出来了，可是为这件事他还是被他们在碗柜里关了一个星期。
　
　　还有一次，佩妮姨妈硬要哈利穿一件旧的套头毛衣（这件毛衣很难看，是棕色的，缀有橙色的小毛球）。她越是往哈利头上套，毛衣就缩得越小，最后缩得只能给掌上木偶穿，哈利穿当然是不合适了。佩妮姨妈断定是洗的时候缩水了，也就没有处罚哈利，使他大大松了一口气。
　
　　另一次，哈利在学校伙房的屋顶被发现了，这可给他惹出了很大的麻烦。达力和他的一伙跟往常一样追着哈利跑，结果哈利竟坐到了伙房的烟囱上，这使他受到的惊吓并不比别人小。德思礼夫妇收到女校长的一封信，女校长很生气，告诉他们哈利爬到学校楼顶上去了。但他当时只是（正如他在上了锁的碗柜里朝他姨父大喊大叫时所说的）在向伙房外边的大垃圾箱后面跳。哈利猜想大概是风半路上把他托上去了。
　
　　今天不会出什么差错了。他觉得只要不待在学校、不待在他的碗柜里或费格太太满屋卷心菜味的起居室里，即使跟达力或皮尔一起在什么地方消磨一天也是值得的。
　
　　弗农姨父一边开车，一边对佩妮姨妈抱怨。他总喜欢怨天尤人，工作中遇到的人、哈利，开会、哈利，银行、哈利，这是他喜欢抱怨的少数几个话题。今天早上他抱怨的是摩托车。
　
　　“像疯子一样，一路吼个没完，这些小兔崽子。”当一辆摩托车超车时，他说。
　
　　“我梦见过一辆摩托车，”哈利突然想起自己的梦，说，“那车还飞呢。”
　
　　弗农姨父差点撞到前面的车上。他从座位上转过身来，他的脸活像一个留着大胡子的大甜菜头。他朝哈利大喊大叫，说：“摩托车不会飞！”
　
　　达力和皮尔吃吃地笑起来。
　
　　“我知道摩托车不会飞，”哈利说，“那只是一个梦。”
　
　　他想，要是什么也没有说就好了。比问问题更让德思礼夫妇恼火的就是他总说些违反常规的事情，不管是做梦梦到的，还是从动画片里看来的——他们认为他总有可能产生危险的想法。
　
　　这是一个阳光灿烂的周末，动物园挤满了举家出游的游客。在入口的地方，德思礼夫妇给达力和皮尔各买了一支大巧克力冰淇淋；他们还没来得及把哈利带走，冰淇淋车上一位笑盈盈的小姐就已经在问哈利想吃点什么，他们只好给哈利买了一支便宜的柠檬冰棍。其实冰棍也不坏，哈利心里想。他一面舔冰棍，一面观赏一只正在搔头的大猩猩，这只大猩猩跟达力长得像极了，只不过它的毛发不是金色的。
　
　　好长时间以来，这是哈利最开心的一个早晨了。他特地小心翼翼地和德思礼夫妇保持一小段距离，防备达力和皮尔到吃午饭的时候，看动物看烦了，回过头来玩他们的拿手好戏——追打他。他们在动物园餐厅吃午饭，达力嫌给他来的一份彩宝圣代不够大，于是又大发脾气。弗农姨父赶紧给他点了一份大的，把原先那份让哈利吃掉了。
　
　　哈利事后想想，他觉得自己应当明白好事不会持续太久的。
　
　　吃过午饭，他们来到了爬虫馆。馆里阴冷、晦暗，沿四面墙都是明亮的玻璃窗。隔着玻璃只见各色蜥蜴和蛇在木块上或石块上爬来爬去，溜溜达达。达力和皮尔想看看有剧毒的大眼镜蛇和攻击性很强的巨蟒。达力很快就找到了馆里最大的一条巨蟒。它能用它的身体缠绕弗农姨父的汽车两圈，然后把它挤压成一堆废铁。不过这时看来它并没有这种心思，它睡得正香呢。
　
　　达力用鼻子紧贴着玻璃盯着这盘亮闪闪的棕色巨蟒。“让它动呀。”达力哼哼唧唧地央求他父亲。
　
　　弗农姨父敲了敲玻璃，巨蟒却纹丝不动。
　
　　“再敲一遍。”达力命令说。
　
　　弗农姨父用指节狠狠地敲玻璃，可大蟒继续打盹。
　
　　“真烦人。”达力抱怨了一句，拖着脚慢慢吞吞地走开了。
　
　　哈利在巨蟒待的大柜子前边挪动着脚步，仔细打量这条巨蟒。如果它怏怏不乐最终在这里死去，哈利不会觉得奇怪。因为它没有伙伴，只有一些愚蠢的家伙整天用手指敲玻璃想把它弄醒。这比拿碗柜当卧室更糟糕，尽管每天来光顾他的只有佩妮姨妈，捶门要他起床，可至少他还能在整栋房子里到处走走。
　
　　巨蟒突然睁开亮晶晶的小眼睛，慢慢地、慢慢地抬起头来，直到与哈利的眼睛一般高。它眨了眨眼。哈利大为惊骇。他即刻飞快地四下里扫了一眼，看是否有人在注意他们。
　
　　没有人注意。他回过头来看着巨蟒，也对它眨了眨眼。巨蟒猛地把头转向弗农姨父和达力那边，然后又抬眼看着天花板。它的眼神显然在对哈利说：“我总是碰到像他们这样的人。”
　
　　“我知道。”哈利隔着玻璃小声说，尽管他不能肯定巨蟒能否听到他说话。
　
　　“那一定让你很烦。”巨蟒用力点点头。
　
　　“别的不说，你是从哪里来的？”哈利问。
　
　　巨蟒甩着尾巴猛地拍了一下玻璃窗上的一块小牌子。哈利仔细看了一下。
　
　　蟒蛇，巴西。
　
　　“那边不错吧？”
　
　　巨蟒又甩尾巴猛地拍了一下那块牌子，哈利继续读道：这是本动物园内繁殖的样品。
　
　　“哦，我明白了——这么说你从来没有到过巴西？”
　
　　当巨蟒正在摇头回答时，哈利背后突然传来震耳欲聋的喊叫，哈利和巨蟒都吓了一跳。
　
　　“达力！德思礼先生！快来看这条蛇！你决不会相信它在做什么！”
　
　　达力摇摇摆摆地赶紧朝他们走过来。
　
　　“别挡道。”他说，朝哈利胸口就是一拳。哈利惊讶不已，重重地摔在水泥地上。随后发生的事，因为来得太突然，谁也说不清楚是怎么回事。只见皮尔和达力一下子紧贴在玻璃上，马上又惊恐万状，大喊大叫，连蹦带跳往后退去。
　
　　哈利坐起来，大口喘气。蟒蛇柜前的玻璃不见了。巨蟒迅速地伸展开盘着的身体，溜到地板上。整个爬虫馆的人都尖叫着，向出口跑去。
　
　　巨蟒溜过哈利身旁时，哈利清清楚楚地听到一个咝咝的声音轻轻地说：“我是从巴西来到这里的……多谢，我走了。”
　
　　爬虫馆的管理员深感震惊。
　
　　“可这玻璃，”他不停地叨叨，“这玻璃到哪里去了？”
　
　　动物园园长再三道歉，并亲自给佩妮姨妈泡了一杯加糖的浓茶。皮尔和达力只在一旁胡言乱语，东拉西扯。其实就哈利所看到的，除了巨蟒从他们身边溜过时，跟他们闹着玩，拍打了一下他们的脚后跟，别的什么也没有做。可是当他们坐上弗农姨父的汽车后，达力讲起他的腿如何如何差点儿被巨蟒咬断，皮尔则赌咒发誓说这条巨蟒想把他缠死。而且，最糟糕的是当皮尔镇静下来以后，他突然说：“哈利还跟它说话呢，是不是，哈利？”
　
　　弗农姨父一直等到皮尔安全离开他们家之后才开始跟哈利算账。他气得几乎连话都说不出来了。他勉强说了一句：“去——碗柜——待着——不准吃饭。”就倒在扶手椅里了，佩妮姨妈连忙跑去给他端来一大杯白兰地。
　
　　哈利在黑洞洞的碗柜里躺了好久，一直盼望能有一块手表。他不知道现在是几点钟，而且也不能肯定德思礼一家是不是睡了。等他们睡了，他就可以冒险，偷偷溜到厨房去找点东西吃。
　
　　他还是个婴儿时，他的父母死于车祸。他记得，从那时起到现在，他已经在弗农姨父家生活近十年了，那是十年苦难的生活。他已经不记得父母身亡时，他自己也在车上。有时躺在碗柜里长时间拼命回忆，会出现一种奇妙的幻象：一道耀眼的闪电般的绿光，前额上一阵火辣辣的疼痛。他猜想，这就是那场车祸，但他不知道那道绿光是从哪里来的。他一点也不记得他的父母了。姨父姨妈从来不提他们，当然，也不准他问。家里也没有他们的照片。
　
　　在哈利年纪还小的时候，他经常做梦，梦见一位亲戚突然来把他接走，可是他的梦从来没有实现。德思礼一家是他惟一的亲戚。可有时候他觉得（也许是盼望）街上的陌生人似乎认识他。而且，他们都是些非常奇怪的陌生人。一次他跟佩妮姨妈和达力上街买东西，就有一个戴紫罗兰色大礼帽的小个子男人向他鞠躬行礼。佩妮姨妈怒冲冲地追问哈利是否认识那人，之后就把他和达力赶出商店，什么东西也没有买。另外一次在公共汽车上，一个放荡不羁、穿一身绿衣服的老太婆笑眯眯地向他招手。还有一次，一个穿紫色拖地长袍的秃头男子在大街上竟然跑过来跟他握手，之后一句活没说就走开了。而最令人感到不可思议的是，当哈利想更仔细地看他们的时候，他们便消失得无影无踪了。
　
　　在学校里，哈利没有一个朋友。大家都知道，达力一伙最恨的就是穿松松垮垮的旧衣服、戴一副破碎眼镜的怪人哈利波特。谁也不愿意去跟达力一伙作对。
　

　
　　①马约卡岛，在西地中海，属西班牙。

第三章　猫头鹰传书
　
　

　
　　巴西巨蟒的脱逃使哈利受到了平生为期最长的一次惩罚。当他获准走出碗柜时，暑假已经开始了。达力已经打坏了他的新摄像机，摔毁了遥控飞机，他的赛车也在他第一次骑着上街时，把拄着拐杖过女贞路的费格太太撞倒了。
　
　　学期结束了，哈利很开心，但无法回避达力一伙人，他们每天都要到达力家来。皮尔、丹尼、莫肯、戈登都是傻大个，而且很蠢，达力更是他们中间块头最大、最蠢的，也就成了他们的头儿。达力的同伙都乐意加入他最热中的游戏——追打哈利。
　
　　这就是哈利尽量长时间待在外边的原因。他四处游逛，盘算着假期的结束，由此获得对生活的一线希望。到九月他就要上中学了，这将是他平生第一次跟达力分开。达力获准在弗农姨父的母校上学。皮尔也要上这所学校。哈利则要去当地的一所综合制中学①——石墙中学。达力觉得很好笑。

　　“石墙中学开学第一天，他们就会把新生的头浸到马桶里。”他对哈利说，“要不要上楼去试一试？”
　
　　“不用了，多谢。”哈利说，“可怜的马桶从来没有泡过像你的头这样叫人倒胃口的脑袋……它可能会吐呢。”不等达力弄明白这句话的意思，哈利早已经跑掉了。
　
　　七月的一天，佩妮姨妈带达力上伦敦，去给他买斯梅廷中学的校服，把哈利放在了费格太太家。费格太太不像平时那么坏。原来费格太太是被自己养的猫绊倒才摔断了腿。她让哈利看电视，还给了他一小块巧克力蛋糕，可这块蛋糕吃起来像已经放了很多年似的。
　
　　那天晚上达力神气活现地在起居室里走来走去，向家人展示他那套新校服。斯梅廷中学的男生制服是棕红色燕尾服，橙色短灯笼裤和一顶叫硬草帽②的扁平草帽。他们还配了一支多节的手杖，趁老师不注意时用来互相打斗，这也许是对未来生活的一种很好的训练吧。
　
　　弗农姨父看着身穿崭新灯笼裤的达力，他的声音都沙哑了，他说这是他平生感到最自豪的一刻。佩妮姨妈突然哭起来，她说她的宝贝疙瘩已经长大了，长得这么帅，简直让她不能相信。哈利却不敢开口。为了强忍住不笑，他的两条肋骨都快折断了。
　
　　第二天早上哈利来吃早饭时，发现厨房里有一股难闻的味儿。这气味似乎是从污水池里的一只大铁盆里散发出来的。他去看了一眼，发现一盆灰黑色的水里泡着像破抹布似的东西。
　
　　“这是什么？”他问佩妮姨妈。她把嘴唇抿紧，每当哈利大胆问问题时，她总是这样。
　
　　“你的新校服呀。”她说。
　
　　哈利又朝盆里扫了一眼。“哦，”他说，“我不知道还得泡得这么湿。”
　
　　“别冒傻气，”佩妮姨妈斥责说，“我把达力的旧衣服染好给你用。等我染好以后，穿起来就会跟别人的一模一样。”
　
　　哈利对此非常怀疑，但他还是觉得最好不要跟她争论。他坐下来吃早饭时，竭力不去想第一天去石墙中学上学自己会是什么模样，八成像披着大象的旧象皮吧。
　
　　达力和弗农姨父进来时，都因为哈利那套新校服散发的味道皱起了鼻子。弗农姨父像通常一样打开报纸，达力则把他从不离身的斯梅廷手杖啪的一声放到桌上。

　　他们听到信箱咔哒响了一声，一些信落到大门口的擦脚垫上。“去拿信，达力。”弗农姨父从报纸后边说。
　
　　“叫哈利去捡。”
　
　　“哈利去捡。”
　
　　“达力去捡。”
　
　　“用你的斯梅廷手杖赶他去捡。”
　
　　哈利躲闪着斯梅廷手杖，去捡信。擦脚垫上有三样邮件：一封是弗农姨父的姐姐玛姬姑妈寄来的明信片，她现在在怀特岛③度假；另一封是看来像账单的棕色信封；还有一封是寄给哈利的信。哈利把信捡起来，目不转睛地盯着看，心里像有一根很粗的橡皮筋嘣的一声弹了起来，嗡嗡直响。活到现在，从来没有人给他写过信。这封信可能是谁写的呢？他没有朋友，没有另外的亲戚，他没有借书证，因此不会收到图书馆催还图书的通知单。可现在确实有一封信，地址清清楚楚，不会有错：萨里郡小惠金区女贞路四号楼梯下的碗柜哈利波特先生收。信封是用厚重的羊皮纸做的，地址是甩翡翠绿的墨水写的。没有贴邮票。哈利用颤抖的手把信封翻转过来，只见上边有一块蜡封、一个盾牌纹章，大写“Ｈ”字母的周围圈着一头狮子、一只鹰、一只獾和一条蛇。
　
　　“小子，快拿过来！”弗农姨父在厨房里喊起来，“你在干什么，在检查邮包有没有炸弹吗？”他开了个玩笑，自己也咯咯地笑开了。
　
　　哈利回到厨房里，目光一直盯着他的那封信。他把账单和明信片递给弗农姨父，然后坐下来，慢慢拆开他那个黄色的信封。弗农姨父拆开有账单的信封，厌恶地哼了一声，又把明信片轻轻翻转过来。
　
　　“玛姬病倒了，”他对佩妮姨妈说，“吃了有问题的油螺……”
　
　　“老爸！”达力突然说，“老爸，哈利收到什么东西了！”
　
　　哈利刚要打开他那封写在厚重羊皮纸上的信，信却被弗农姨父一把从手中抢过去了。
　
　　“那是写给我的！”哈利说，想把信夺回来。
　
　　“谁会给你写信？”弗农姨父讥讽地说，用一只手把信纸抖开，朝它瞥了一眼。
　
　　他的脸一下子由红变青，比红绿灯变得还快。事情到这里并没结束。几秒钟之内他的脸就变得像灰色的麦片粥一样灰白了。
　
　　“佩——佩——佩妮！”他气喘吁吁地说。
　
　　达力想把信抢过来看，可是弗农姨父把信举得老高，他够不着。佩妮姨妈好奇地把信拿过去，刚看第一行，她就好像要晕倒了。她抓住喉咙，噎了一下，像要背过气去。
　
　　“德思礼！哎呀！我的天……德思礼！”
　
　　他们俩你看我，我看你，都不说话，似乎忘了哈利和达力还在屋里。达力是不习惯被人冷落的，他用斯梅廷手杖朝他父亲的头上狠狠地敲了一下。
　
　　“我要看那封信。”他大声说。
　
　　“我要看。”哈利气呼呼地说，“因为那封信是写给我的。”
　
　　“你们俩，统统给我出去。”弗农姨父用低沉而沙哑的声音说，把信重新塞到信封里。
　
　　哈利没有动。
　
　　“我要我的信！”他大叫说。
　
　　“让我看！”达力命令说。
　
　　“出去！”弗农姨父吼了起来，揪住哈利和达力的脖领，把他们俩扔到了走廊里，砰地一声关上厨房门。哈利和达力两人都火冒三丈，为争夺由锁孔窥视的权利，悄悄地争斗起来。最后达力胜利了。啥利一只耳朵上挂着他那副破眼镜，只好趴在地板上，贴着门和地板之间的缝隙窥探动静。
　
　　“弗农，”佩妮姨妈用颤抖的声音说，“你看看这地址……他们怎么会知道他睡在什么地方？他们该不会监视我们这栋房子吧？”
　
　　“监视……暗中窥探……说不定还会跟踪咱们呢。”弗农姨父愤愤地抱怨。
　
　　“可我们该怎么办？弗农？我们要不要回封信？告诉他们我们不想让……”
　
　　哈利能看见弗农姨父锃亮的黑皮鞋在厨房里走来走去。
　
　　“不，”他终于说，“不，我们就给他来个置之不理。如果他们收不到回信
……对，这是最好的办法……我们按兵不动……”
　
　　“可是……”
　
　　“佩妮，我决不让他们任何人进这栋房子。我们拖他进来的时候，不是发过誓，要制止这种耸人听闻的荒唐事吗？”
　
　　当天傍晚，弗农姨父下班回来，做了一件从来没有做过的事，他竟然到碗柜前来看望哈利了。
　
　　“我的信呢？”弗农姨父刚刚挤进门，哈利就问，“是谁写给我的？”
　
　　“没有人。因为写错了地址才寄给你的。”弗农姨父直截了当说，“我已经把信烧掉了。”
　
　　“根本没有写错，”哈利生气地说，“上边还写着我住在碗柜里呢。”
　
　　“住嘴！”弗农姨父咆哮起来，两只蜘蛛都从柜顶上被震下来了。他做了几次深呼吸，勉强挤出一个笑脸，但看起来像苦笑。
　
　　“唔……不错，哈利……说起这个碗柜，你姨妈和我都考虑到……你已经长大了，这地方确实小了点儿……我们想，你不如搬到达力的另外一间卧室去比较好。”
　
　　“为什么？”哈利说。
　
　　“不准问问题！”他姨父吼起来，“把你这些东西统统搬到楼上去，现在就搬。”
　
　　德思礼家总共有四间卧室：一间是供弗农姨父和佩妮姨妈用的；一间是客房（通常是给弗农姨父的姐姐玛姬准备的）；一间是达力的睡房；还有一间用来堆放达力卧室里放不下的玩具和什物。
　
　　哈利只走了一趟就把他的全部家当从碗柜搬到楼上这个房间来了。他端坐在床上，朝房间里四下打量。这里所有的东西几乎都是坏的。只用了一个月的摄像机放在一辆小手推车顶上，达力有一次还用这辆手推车去压过邻居家的小狗；屋角里放着达力的第一台电视机，当他心爱的节目被取消时，他给了电视机一脚；这里还有一只大鸟笼，他用它养过一只鹦鹉，后来他把鹦鹉带到学校换回了一支真正的气熗。这支气熗现在扔在架子上，熗管的一头被他坐得弯了。另外的一些架子上摆满了书，这些书看上去大概是这个房间里惟一没有翻动过的东西。
　
　　楼下传来达力缠着他母亲哭闹的声音：“我不要他住那个房间……那间屋我要用……让他搬出去……”
　
　　哈利叹了口气，伸开四肢躺到床上。如果是昨天，要他搬上来，他会不惜任何代价。可是今天他却宁愿拿着那封信搬回他的碗柜，也不愿搬到这里来却拿不到那封信。
　
　　第二天吃早饭时，大家都觉得最好还是不说话。达力歇斯底里大发作，用斯梅廷手杖使劲敲打他父亲，故意装吐，拼命踢他母亲，用他的乌龟把温室的屋顶砸了个窟窿，可还是没能把自己的房间要回来。哈利其实昨天就想到了，他非常后悔昨天没有在走廊里就把信打开。弗农姨父和佩妮姨妈一直沉着脸面面相觑。
　
　　今天来信的时候，弗农姨父似乎要表示对哈利的友好，便让达力去拿信。他们听见达力穿过走廊时用斯梅廷手杖敲敲打打。之后，他大喊大叫：“又有一封信！女贞路四号最小的一间卧室哈利·波特先生收……”弗农姨父像被掐住了脖子，喊了一声，从椅子上一跃而起，朝走廊跑去。哈利紧跟在他背后。弗农姨父只有把达力摔倒在地，才能把信拿到手，可哈利从背后搂住了他的脖子，这就增加了他的难度。经过片刻的混战，弗农姨父和哈利都挨了达力不少棍子。最后，弗农姨父直起腰来大口喘气，手里捏着哈利的信。
　
　　“上你的碗柜去……我是说……上你的睡房去。”他呼哧带喘地对哈利说。“达力……走开……快走开！”
　
　　哈利在他新搬来的房间里来回兜圈子。有人知道他已经搬出了碗柜，好像还知道他没有收到写给他的第一封信。这足以说明他们还会再试一次。这回他可要保证让他们获得成功。他设计了一个方案。
　
　　第二天一早，修好的闹钟铃声在六点钟时响了。哈利连忙把闹钟铃关掉，悄没声息地穿好衣服。他不能吵醒德思礼一家。他一盏灯也没有开就悄悄地溜下楼去。
　
　　他要去女贞路街口等邮差来，首先把四号的邮件取到手。当他穿过漆黑的走廊朝大门口走时，他心里怦怦直跳。“哎哟！”哈利一蹦老高。他一脚踩到擦鞋垫上一个软绵绵的大东西，还是一个活物！
　
　　楼上的灯都亮了，哈利踩着的那个软绵绵的大东西竟是他姨父的脸。这使他大为惊骇。弗农姨父裹着睡袋躺在大门口是为了不让哈利做他想做的事。他朝哈利大喊大叫，嚷嚷了足有半个钟头，这才让哈利去泡杯热茶。哈利难过地拖着脚步，慢慢吞吞地来到厨房。等他转回来的时候，信件已经到了，刚好掉在弗农姨父的膝盖上。哈利看见了三封信，地址是用翠绿色墨水写的。
　
　　“我想……”他刚要开口，弗农姨父已经当着他的面把三封信撕得粉碎。
　
　　那天弗农姨父没去上班，他待在家里，把信箱钉死了。
　
　　“你看，”他嘴里含着一把钉子，对佩妮姨妈解释，“如果他们没法投送，他们自然也就放弃了。”
　
　　“这是不是真能起作用，我不敢说，德思礼。”
　
　　“哦，这些人的头脑想问题都古古怪怪的，佩妮，跟你我不一样。”弗农姨父说，一边用力捶钉子，钉子上还沾有佩妮姨妈刚给他端来的水果蛋糕的渣呢。
　
　　星期五，寄给哈利的信至少有十二封。既然不能往信箱里插，只好往门底下的缝里塞，从门边的缝里塞，有几封信甚至从楼下洗手间的小窗口塞了进来。
　
　　弗农姨父又待在家里。他把信全部烧光之后，就找来锤子、钉子，把前门后门的门缝全都用木板钉死，这样谁也出不去了。他一边干，一边哼着《从郁金香花园中悄悄走过》，只要有一点动静他就吓一跳。
　
　　星期六，事态开始失控。二十四封写给哈利的信已设法进入德思礼家中。这些信是卷成小卷藏在两打鸡蛋下边，由毫不知情的送奶员从起居室窗口递给佩妮姨妈的。弗农姨父怒冲冲地给邮局、奶厂打电话找人说理。佩妮姨妈正好把二十四封信都塞到食品粉碎机里搅得粉碎。
　
　　“究竟什么人这么急着要找你联系？”达力吃惊地问哈利。
　
　　星期天早上，弗农姨父坐下来吃早饭，显得很疲惫，气色也不太好，不过很开心。“星期天没有邮差，”他一边把果酱抹在报纸上，一边高兴地提醒大家，“今天不会有该死的信来了……”
　
　　他正说着，有东西飕飕地从厨房烟囱里掉下来，狠狠地砸到他的后脑上。接着三四十封信像子弹一样从壁炉里射出来。德思礼一家忙着躲避，哈利却一蹿老高，伸手想抓住一封……
　
　　“出去！出去！”弗农姨父伸手抱住哈利的腰，把他扔到了走廊里。佩妮姨妈和达力双手抱头逃出屋去，弗农姨父砰的一声把门关上。他们能听见信件源源不断地向厨房里涌，弹到地板上和墙上。
　
　　“玩儿完了！”弗农姨父尽量保持镇静说，但一边又大把大把地从脸上把胡子揪了下来。“我要你们五分钟之内回来，准备走。我们要离开这里。你们赶紧去收拾几件衣服。没有商量！”
　
　　他揪掉了一半胡子，看起来很可怕，谁也不敢顶撞他了。十分钟后，他们奋力拆开用木条钉死的大门，冲出门去，坐上汽车朝公路疾驰而去。达力坐在后座哭鼻子，因为他刚才要把电视机、摄像机和电脑都塞到他的运动背包里，耽误了大家的时间，父亲打了好几下他的头。
　
　　他们一个劲往前开。连佩妮姨妈也不敢问他们这是要去哪里。弗农姨父会不时打个紧急掉头，往回开一小段路。
　
　　“甩掉他们……甩掉他们……”每次他往回开的时候，总这么叨叨。
　
　　他们一整天都没有停下来吃东西或喝水。夜幕降临时，达力哇哇大哭起来。他平生从未遇到过像今天这么糟糕的事情。他饿极了；五个他想看的电视节目也错过了；他还从来没遇到过今天这种情况，一整天都没坐到电脑前炸外星人。
　
　　汽车来到一座大城市的郊区，弗农姨父终于在一家显得幽暗阴沉的旅馆门口停下。达力和哈利合住一个有两张床位的房间，潮湿的床单散发着一股霉味。达力打着呼噜，哈利却睡不着，只好坐在窗台上看着下边过往的汽车灯光，感到纳闷……
　
　　第二天早餐，他们吃的是走味的玉米片④和罐头冷土豆加烤面包。他们刚吃完，旅馆的老板娘就过来了。

　　“对不起，你们当中有叫哈利波特先生的吗？前边服务台大概收到了一百封像这样的信。”
　
　　她举起一封信好让他们看清用绿墨水写的地址：科克沃斯铁路风景旅馆十七号房间哈利波特先生收。
　
　　哈利伸手去抓信，可是他的手被弗农姨父挡了回去。老板娘瞪大了眼睛看着他。
　
　　“我去拿信。”弗农姨父说着，即刻站起来跟随老板娘走出餐厅。
　
　　“我们还是回家去比较好吧，亲爱的。”几小时过后，佩妮姨妈胆怯地建议说。弗农姨父好像根本没有听到她说话。他究竟在寻找什么，他们谁也不知道。他开车把他们带到一处森林中间。他下车四下里看了看，摇摇头，又回到车上，继续往前开。后来在一片新耕的田地里、在一座吊桥的中央和立体停车场的顶层又发生了同样的事。
　
　　“老爸是不是疯了？”这时天色已经很晚了，达力无精打采地问佩妮姨妈。
　
　　弗农姨父把车停在海边，把他们锁在车里就不见了。
　
　　开始下雨了，豆大的雨点落到车顶上。达力又抽抽噎噎哭鼻子了。
　
　　“今天是星期一，”他对母亲说，“晚上上演《伟大的亨伯托》，我真想待在有电视可看的地方。”
　
　　星期一，这使哈利想起一件事。他通常总是靠达力来推算每天是星期几，因为达力要看电视。如果今天是星期一，那么明天，星期二，将是哈利十一岁的生日。当然，他的生日从来都没有一点儿意思。去年德思礼夫妇送给他一个挂上衣的挂衣钩和弗农姨父的一双旧袜子。但是，他毕竟不是天天过十一岁的生日。
　
　　弗农姨父回来了，而且面带微笑。他还拎着一个细长的包裹，佩妮姨妈问他买的是什么，他没有回答。“我找到了一个特别理想的地方！”他说，“走吧！都下车！”
　
　　车外边很冷。弗农姨父指着海上的一块巨大的礁石。礁石上有一间你能想象的小得可怜的破烂小屋。有一点可以肯定，那就是小屋里绝对不会有电视。
　
　　“天气预报说今天夜里有暴风雨！”弗农姨父高兴地拍手说，“而这位先生好心地同意把船借给我们！”
　
　　一个牙齿掉光的老汉慢慢吞吞地朝他们走来，脸上挂着不怀好意的奸笑，指着铁灰色海面上漂荡的一只破旧的划艇。
　
　　“我已经给大家弄到了一些吃的！”弗农姨父说，“咱们就都上船吧！”
　
　　船上寒气逼人。冰冷的海水掀起的浪花夹着雨水顺着他们的脖子往下流淌，刺骨的寒风拍打着他们的面孔。大概过了好几个小时，他们来到了那块礁石边，弗农姨父连滚带爬地领着他们朝东倒西歪的小屋走去。
　
　　屋里更显得可怕，一股浓重的海藻腥味，寒风透过木墙缝隙飕飕地往里灌，壁炉里湿漉漉的，什么也没有。屋里总共只有两个房间。弗农姨父弄来吃的东西也只是每人一包薯片和四根香蕉。他想把火生起来，但薯片的空包装袋只冒了一股烟，之后就卷缩成一堆灰烬了。“现在要是有信，可就有用处了，是吗？”他开心地说。
　
　　他的心情很好。看得出他认为这样暴风雨的天气，不会有人冒雨来送信的。哈利心里当然也同意，但这种想法却让他一点儿也高兴不起来。
　
　　夜幕降临，意料中的暴风雨果然从四面八方向他们袭来。滔滔翻滚的海浪，拍打着小木屋的四壁，肆虐的狂风吹得几扇污秽不堪的窗户咔哒咔哒直响。佩妮姨妈从另一间屋里找来几床发霉的被子，在虫蛀的沙发上给达力铺了一张床。她和弗农姨父到隔壁一张坑坑洼洼、高低不平的床上睡了；哈利勉强找到一块最不硌人的地板，把身子蜷缩在一条薄而又薄的破被子下边。
　
　　深夜，雨暴风狂，暴风雨越发肆无忌惮。哈利不能入眠，他瑟瑟发抖，辗转反侧，总想睡得舒服些，肚子又饿得咕咕直叫。临近午夜，一阵沉闷的隆隆雷声淹没了达力的鼾声。达力的一只胳膊搭拉在沙发边，胖乎乎的手腕上戴着手表，夜光的表盘告诉哈利再过十分钟他就满十一岁了。他躺在那里期待着他的生日在嘀嗒声中一分一秒地临近。他心里想，不知德思礼夫妇会不会记得他的生日，不知那个写信的人此刻会在什么地方。
　
　　还有五分钟。哈利听见屋外不知什么嘎吱响了一声。但愿屋顶不会塌下来，尽管塌下来也许反倒会暖和些。还有四分钟。说不定等他回到女贞路时，那幢房子已经堆满了信，没准儿他还能想办法偷到一封呢。
　
　　还有三分钟。那是海浪汹涌澎湃，冲击着礁石吗？还有两分钟。那个嘎吱嘎吱的奇怪声音又是什么呢？是礁石碎裂滚入大海的声音吗？再过一分钟他就十一岁了。三十秒……二十秒……十……九……也许他应该把达力叫醒，故意气气他
……三……二……一……
　
　　轰！整个小屋被震得摇摇晃晃，哈利坐了起来，盯着房门。门外有人敲门要进来。
　

　
　　①五年制中学，学生十一岁入学，课程包括普通与职校学科。
　　②旧时夏季划船戴的一种帽子。
　　③怀特岛，在英格兰东南部，构成怀特郡。
　　④常浸泡于牛奶中作为早餐。

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举报只看该作者地板发表于: 2013-10-23 0

　　CHAPTER FOUR
　　THE KEEPER OF THE KEYS
　　BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake. "Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly.
　　There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands -- now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.
　　"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you -- I'm armed!"
　　There was a pause. Then --
　　SMASH!
　　The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.
　　A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.
　　The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.
　　"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..."
　　He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.
　　"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.
　　Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.
　　"An' here's Harry!" said the giant.
　　Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.
　　"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yet dad, but yeh've got yet mom's eyes."
　　Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.
　　I demand that you leave at once, sit!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"
　　"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.
　　Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.
　　"Anyway -- Harry," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here -- I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."
　　From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry written on it in green icing.
　　Harry looked up at the giant. He meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, "Who are you?"
　　The giant chuckled.
　　"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."
　　He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's whole arm.
　　"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."
　　His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Harry felt the warmth wash over him as though he'd sunk into a hot bath.
　　The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."
　　The giant chuckled darkly.
　　"Yet great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."
　　He passed the sausages to Harry, who was so hungry he had never tasted anything so wonderful, but he still couldn't take his eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, he said, "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are."
　　The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
　　"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts -- yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course.
　　"Er -- no," said Harry.
　　Hagrid looked shocked.
　　"Sorry," Harry said quickly.
　　"Sony?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It' s them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yet parents learned it all?"
　　"All what?" asked Harry.
　　"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"
　　He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.
　　"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this boy -- this boy! -- knows nothin' abou' -- about ANYTHING?"
　　Harry thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school, after all, and his marks weren't bad.
　　"I know some things," he said. "I can, you know, do math and stuff." But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world."
　　"What world?"
　　Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.
　　"DURSLEY!" he boomed.
　　Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Harry.
　　"But yeh must know about yet mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."
　　"What? My -- my mom and dad weren't famous, were they?"
　　"Yeh don' know... yeh don' know..." Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare.
　　"Yeh don' know what yeh are?" he said finally.
　　Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.
　　"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sit! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!"
　　A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.
　　"You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from him all these years?"
　　"Kept what from me?" said Harry eagerly.
　　"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.
　　Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.
　　"Ah, go boil yet heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harry -- yet a wizard."
　　There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.
　　"-- a what?" gasped Harry.
　　"A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letter."
　　Harry stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. He pulled out the letter and read:
　　HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
　　Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
　　(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
　　Dear Mr. Potter,
　　We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
　　Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours sincerely,
　　Minerva McGonagall,
　　Deputy Headmistress
　　Questions exploded inside Harry's head like fireworks and he couldn't decide which to ask first. After a few minutes he stammered, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"
　　"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl -- a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl -- a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry could read upside down:
　　Dear Professor Dumbledore,
　　Given Harry his letter.
　　Taking him to buy his things tomorrow.
　　Weather's horrible. Hope you're Well.
　　Hagrid
　　Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.
　　Harry realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly.
　　"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.
　　"He's not going," he said.
　　Hagrid grunted.
　　"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him," he said.
　　"A what?" said Harry, interested.
　　"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call nonmagic folk like thern. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."
　　"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of him! Wizard indeed!"
　　"You knew?" said Harry. "You knew I'm a -- a wizard?"
　　"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school-and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was -- a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"
　　She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.
　　"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as -- as -- abnormal -- and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"
　　Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said, "Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!"
　　"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin' his own story when every kid in our world knows his name!" "But why? What happened?" Harry asked urgently.
　　The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious.
　　"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh -- but someone 3 s gotta -- yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."
　　He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.
　　"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh -- mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it...."
　　He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with -- with a person called -- but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows --"
　　"Who? "
　　"Well -- I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."
　　"Why not?"
　　"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went... bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was..."
　　Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.
　　"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested.
　　"Nah -can't spell it. All right -- Voldemort. " Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this -- this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too -- some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches... terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him -- an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.
　　"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.
　　"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an' -- an' --"
　　Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.
　　"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad -- knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find -- anyway..."
　　"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then -- an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing -- he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a Powerful, evil curse touches yeh -- took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even -- but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Harry. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age -- the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts -- an' you was only a baby, an' you lived."
　　Something very painful was going on in Harry's mind. As Hagrid's story came to a close, he saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than he had ever remembered it before -- and he remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.
　　Hagrid was watching him sadly.
　　"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot..."
　　"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped; he had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.
　　"Now, you listen here, boy," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured -- and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion -- asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types -- just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end --"
　　But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley -I'm warning you -- one more word... "
　　In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.
　　"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.
　　Harry, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them.
　　"But what happened to Vol--, sorry -- I mean, You-Know-Who?"
　　"Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see... he was gettin' more an' more powerful -- why'd he go?
　　"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don~ reckon they could've done if he was comin' back.
　　"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Harry. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on -- I dunno what it was, no one does -- but somethin' about you stumped him, all right."
　　Hagrid looked at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Harry, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A wizard? Him? How could he possibly be? He'd spent his life being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if he was really a wizard, why hadn't they been turned into warty toads every time they'd tried to lock him in his cupboard? If he'd once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick him around like a football?
　　"Hagrid," he said quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard."
　　To his surprise, Hagrid chuckled.
　　"Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?"
　　Harry looked into the fire. Now he came to think about it... every odd thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious with him had happened when he, Harry, had been upset or angry... chased by Dudley's gang, he had somehow found himself out of their reach... dreading going to school with that ridiculous haircut, he'd managed to make it grow back... and the very last time Dudley had hit him, hadn't he got his revenge, without even realizing he was doing it? Hadn't he set a boa constrictor on him?
　　Harry looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at him.
　　"See?" said Hagrid. "Harry Potter, not a wizard -- you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts."
　　But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.
　　"Haven't I told you he's not going?" he hissed. "He's going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish -- spell books and wands and --"
　　"If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop him," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter' s son goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. His name's been down ever since he was born. He's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he won't know himself. He'll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an' he'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbled--"
　　"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL To TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.
　　But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER," he thundered, "- INSULT- ALBUS- DUMBLEDORE- IN- FRONT- OF- ME!"
　　He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley -- there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.
　　Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.
　　Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.
　　"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."
　　He cast a sideways look at Harry under his bushy eyebrows.
　　"Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm -- er -- not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff -- one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job
　　"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry.
　　"Oh, well -- I was at Hogwarts meself but I -- er -- got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore." "Why were you expelled?"
　　"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."
　　He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry.
　　"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."

第四章　钥匙保管员
　
　

　
　　轰！又是捶门声。达力惊醒了。“什么地方打炮？”达力迷迷糊糊地说。他们背后又是哗啦一声响。弗农姨父抱着一支来福熗连滚带爬地跑进屋，这时他们才明白他那细长的包裹里原来是什么东西。
　
　　“门外是什么人？”他喊道，“我警告你……我有熗！”
　
　　外面静了一会儿。然后……咔嚓！门从合页上脱落下来，震耳欲聋的哗啦一声，门摔在地板上。门口站着一个彪形大汉。他的脸几乎完全被蓬乱的长发和纠结的浓密胡须掩盖了，但你仍能看见他那对像黑甲虫似的眼睛在头发下面闪闪发光。
　
　　巨人好不容易才挤进屋来，他弓着腰，这样他的头刚刚擦着天花板。他弯腰拾起门板，轻而易举地就把门装到了门框上。外面的风暴声减弱了。他转身看着大家。
　
　　“能给咱来杯热茶吗？走这么一趟可真不容易……”他大步走到沙发跟前，达力坐在那里吓傻了。
　
　　“喂，让点儿地方吧，你这个傻大个儿。”巨人说。
　
　　达力尖叫着跑过去躲到母亲身后，他母亲吓得蹲在弗农姨父背后。
　
　　“这就是哈利了！”巨人说。
　
　　哈利抬头看着他那张凶狠、粗野、面貌不清的脸，他那对甲壳虫似的眼睛眯起来，露出一丝笑容。“上次见到你，你还是个小毛毛。”巨人说，“你很像你爸爸。眼睛可像你妈妈。”
　
　　弗农姨父发出一声刺耳的怪叫。“我要你马上离开，先生！”他说，“你这是私闯民宅！”
　
　　“哦，住嘴，德思礼，你这个大傻瓜。”巨人说。他隔着沙发把熗从德思礼手里抢过来，轻轻一撅，绾了一个结就把它扔到屋角里了，仿佛这支熗是用橡皮做的。
　
　　弗农姨父又发出一声怪叫，好像一只老鼠被人踩了。
　
　　“不管怎么说……哈利，”巨人转过身来，背对着弗农夫妇，“祝你生日非常愉快。我这里有一件东西要送给你……有的地方我可能压坏了，不过味道还是一样。”
　
　　他从黑外衣内袋里取出一只稍稍有些压扁的盒子。哈利用颤抖的手指将它打开，只见盒子里是一个黏糊糊的巧克力大蛋糕。上边用绿色糖汁写着：祝哈利生日快乐。
　
　　哈利抬眼看着这个巨人。他本来想向他致谢，可是话到嘴边却不见了，他脱口说：“你是谁？”臣人咯咯地笑起来，“说真的，我还没向你作自我介绍呢。鲁伯海格，霍格沃茨的钥匙保管员和狩猎场看守。”
　
　　他伸出一只巨手握住哈利的整只胳膊。
　
　　“哦，茶怎么样了？”他搓着手说，“如果有茶，在遇到比你强的人面前就不要说没有，记住。”
　
　　他的目光落到空空的炉篦子上，那上边只有揉成了一团的包装袋。他哼了一声，朝壁炉弯下腰，谁也没看见他做什么，但是当他随即退回来的时候，那里已是炉火熊熊。潮湿的木屋里火光摇曳，哈利感到周身暖和，仿佛跳进了热水池。
　
　　巨人又坐到沙发上，沉重的身躯把沙发压得直往下塌。他开始从外衣口袋里掏出各式各样的东西：一把铜壶、一包压扁的香肠、一只拨火钳、一把茶壶、几只缺口的大杯子和一瓶琥珀色的液体。他先喝了一大口，然后开始泡茶。小屋里随即充满了烤香肠的香味和咝咝的声音。在巨人忙活的时候，谁也没有吱声。但是当他把第一批烤好的六根粗粗的、油汪汪的、烤得稍稍有点焦的香肠从拨火钳上拿下来时，达力有些坐不住了。弗农姨父厉声说：“达力，不准碰他给你的任何东西。”
　
　　巨人拉下脸轻蔑地一笑，“你这个呆瓜儿子用不着再长膘了，德思礼，你放心吧。”他把香肠递给哈利。
　
　　哈利早就饿极了，他这辈子也没吃过这么好吃的东西，但他始终无法将目光从巨人身上移开。最后，他看不会有人出来作任何解释，于是问：“对不起，可我真的还是不知道您是谁？”
　
　　巨人喝下一大口茶，用手背揩了揩嘴。“就叫我海格吧，”他说，“大伙都这么叫我。我刚才对你说过，我是霍格沃茨的钥匙保管员……当然，霍格沃茨你总该知道吧？”
　
　　“唔……我不知道。”哈利说。
　
　　海格显得震惊。
　
　　“对不起。”哈利连忙说。
　
　　“对不起？”海格吼起来，调过头瞪着德思礼夫妇，他们俩吓得躲到暗处去了。
　
　　“说对不起的应当是他们！我知道你没有收到那些信，但是我万万没有想到你竟然不知道霍格沃茨，我的天哪！难道你从来没想过你父母是在哪里学会那一切的吗？”
　
　　“一切什么？”
　
　　“一切什么？”海格大喝道。“你等等！”他一跃而起，火冒三丈，似乎整个小屋都被他庞大的身躯填满了。德思礼夫妇吓得贴着墙瑟瑟发抖。“你们的意思是要告诉我，”他朝德思礼夫妇咆哮道，“这孩子……这孩子……对……什么都不知道吗？”
　
　　哈利觉得这么说也未免太过分了。他毕竟还上过学，而且成绩也不坏。“有些事情，我懂，”哈利说，“比如，我会做算术之类的功课。”
　
　　可是海格朝他一摆手，说：“我是说，知道我们的世界。你的世界。我的世界。你父母的世界。”
　
　　“什么世界？”
　
　　海格看起来简直要爆炸了。“德思礼！”他大吼一声。
　
　　弗农姨父面色煞白，嘀嘀咕咕不知小声说着什么。
　
　　海格怒冲冲地瞪着哈利。“你总该知道你父母的事吧，”他说，“我是说，他们很有名气，你也很有名气。”
　
　　“什么？我的……我爸妈没有名气，不是吗？”
　
　　“哦，你不知道……你不知道……”他用手指拢了拢头发，用困惑不解的目光盯着哈利，“你不知道你是什么人吗？”他终于问。
　
　　弗农姨父突然能开口说话了。“住嘴！”他命令说，“不要再说了，先生！我不准你对这孩子讲任何事！”
　
　　即使比弗农姨父更勇敢的人，在海格暴跳如雷、对他怒目而视的时候也会不寒而栗。海格说话时，他说的每一个字都因愤怒而颤抖。“你就从来没有告诉过他？没有告诉他邓布利多留给他的那封信的内容？我当时在场！我亲眼看见他留下了那封信。德思礼！这么多年你就一直瞒着不告诉他？”
　
　　“瞒着什么不让我知道？”哈利急不可耐地问。
　
　　“住嘴！我不准你说！”弗农姨父惊慌失措，大喊大叫起来。佩妮姨妈吓得上气不接下气。
　
　　“哦，气死你们，把你们两个统统活活气死。”海格说，“哈利。你是一名巫师。”
　
　　小屋里鸦雀无声，只听见滚滚涛声和狂风呼号。
　
　　“我是什么？”哈利喘着气说。
　
　　“一名巫师，当然。”海格说着，坐回到沙发上，沙发又嘎吱嘎吱响得更厉害了，“我相信，只要你经过一段时间培训，一定会成为一名优秀的巫师。你有那样的父母，你怎么可能不是巫师呢？我想现在该是你看那封信的时候了。”
　
　　哈利终于伸手接过一只淡黄色的信封，上边用翠绿色的墨水写着：大海，礁石上的小屋，地板上，哈利波特先生收。他抽出信读起来：
　
　　霍格沃茨魔法学校校长：阿不思邓布利多（国际魔法联合会会长、巫师协会会长、梅林爵士团一级魔法师）。
　
　　亲爱的波特先生：我们愉快地通知您，您已获准在霍格沃茨魔法学校就读。随信附上所需书籍及装备一览表。学期定于九月一日开始。我们将于七月三十一日前静候您的猫头鹰带来您的回信。副校长（女）米勒娃麦格谨上
　
　　哈利的问题像烟花一样在头脑里纷纷爆裂，他一时拿不定该先问什么。过了一会儿，他才结结巴巴地说：“他们静候我的猫头鹰是什么意思？”
　
　　“狂奔的戈耳工①，哟，我想起来了。”海格用足以推倒一匹壮马的力量拍了拍他的脑门，又从外衣的另一个内袋里掏出一只猫头鹰——一只真的、活蹦乱跳、多着毛的猫头鹰，还有一支长长的羽毛笔和一卷羊皮纸。他用牙齿咬着舌尖匆匆写了一张字条，哈利倒着看见字条上写道：
　
　　亲爱的邓布利多先生：已将信交给哈利。明天带他去购买他要用的东西。天气糟透了。
　
　　祝您安好。
　
　　海格海格将字条卷起来，让猫头鹰衔在嘴里，走到门口，把猫头鹰放飞到暴风雨里。随后他又回来坐下，仿佛这一切像打了一个电话一样平常。
　
　　哈利发现自己一直张着嘴，连忙把嘴闭上。
　
　　“我说到哪儿了？”海格说。这时弗农姨父突然移到火光照亮的地方，脸色依旧惨自，显得很生气。
　
　　“他不会去的。”他说。
　
　　海格哼了一声。
　
　　“我倒要看看，你们麻瓜们，像你这样的大笨蛋用什么办法去阻拦他。”他说。
　
　　“你们什么？”哈利好奇地问。
　
　　“麻瓜，”海格说，“这是我们对像他们这类不相信魔法的人的称呼。不幸的是你竟然在这么一个不相信魔法的家庭里长大。”
　
　　“我们收养他的时候就发过誓，要制止这类荒唐事，”弗农姨父说，“发誓要让这一切一刀两断！什么巫师，哼！”
　
　　“您早就知道了？”哈利说，“您早就知道我是一个……一个巫师？”
　
　　“老早就知道，”佩妮姨妈突然尖着嗓子喊起来，“老早就知道！我们当然老早就知道！我那个该死的妹妹既然是，你怎么可能不是？哦，她就是收到了同样的一封信，然后就不见了……进了那所学校……每逢放假回来，口袋里装满了蟾蜍蛋，把茶杯都变成了老鼠。只有我一个人，算是把她看透了——十足一个怪物！可是我的父母却看不清，整天莉莉长、莉莉短，家里有个巫婆他们还美滋滋的！”
　
　　她停下来喘了一大口气，接着又喋喋不休地讲起来。看来这些话她已经憋在心里很多年，一直想一吐为快呢。
　
　　“然后她就在学校里遇到了那个波特，毕业后他们结了婚，有了你。当然，我也知道你会跟他们一样，一样古怪，一样……一样……不正常……后来，对不起。她走了，自我爆炸了，我们只好收养你！”
　
　　哈利的脸色变得煞白。等他能够说出话来时，他立刻说：“爆炸？您对我说过，他们是遇到车祸丧生的！”
　
　　“车祸！”海格咆哮起来，他一跃而起，火冒三丈，吓得德思礼夫妇又躲到他们的角落里去了。“车祸怎么会伤害莉莉和詹姆波特？这是诬蔑！是诽谤！我们世界里的每个孩子都知道哈利的名字，而他却不知道自己的身世！”
　
　　“可这是为什么？出了什么事？”哈利急不可耐地问。
　
　　海格脸上的怒气消了，他突然显得焦虑不安。
　
　　“我从来没有料到会是这样。”他用低沉而焦虑的声调说，“邓布利多对我说过找你可能会遇到麻烦，因为有许多事你不知道。哦，哈利，我不知道由我来告诉你是不是合适——不过总得有人告诉你——你不能一无所知就去霍格沃茨上学呀。”
　
　　他鄙夷地朝德思礼夫妇扫了一眼。
　
　　“好，我把我所知道的一切都告诉你……不过，我不能告诉你事情的全部，因为很多事情还是一个谜……”
　
　　他坐下来，朝炉火看了一会儿，然后说：“我想，我从一个叫……不过你不会不知道他的名字，真叫人不能相信，我们的世界里人人都知道……”
　
　　“谁？”
　
　　“好，除非万不得已，我不想提他的名字。没有人愿意提。”
　
　　“为什么不愿意提？”
　
　　“对那些狂奔的戈耳工们，哈利，人们到现在还心有余悸。哎呀，难哪。当时有一名巫师，他后来……变坏了，变得坏透了，坏得不能再坏了。他的名字叫
……”海格咽了一口唾沫，可还是说不出一个字来。
　
　　“你能写出来吗？”哈利提醒说。
　
　　“不行，这个字我不会拼。好吧……他叫伏地魔。”海格打了个寒噤，“别再逼我重复他的名字了。总之，这个……这个巫师，大概二十年前吧，他开始为自己找门徒。他也找到了一些人……他们有些是因为怕他，有些是想从他那里学到些功法，因为他法力高强。好了，那段日子可真是黑暗啊。哈利，你不知道应该相信谁，也不敢跟陌生的男女巫师交朋友……还发生了许多可怕的事情。他接管了我们这个世界。当然有些人反对他，他就把他们都杀掉了。太可怕了。当时惟一安全的地方就只有霍格沃茨。那个神秘人最害怕的就是邓布利多。横竖不敢动那所学校，至少当时是这样。
　
　　“现在来说说你的父母，他们是我知道的最优秀的男女巫师了。他们当年在霍格沃茨还分别担任男女学生会的主席呢！叫人弄不明白的是当初那个神秘人为什么没有把他们拉到他那边去……也许他知道他们和邓布利多很接近，不想与黑势力有关系吧。
　
　　“也许他认为他可以说服他们，也许想干脆把他们干掉。大家都知道，十年前万圣节②前夕，他来到你们住的村庄，当时你只有一岁。他来到你们家就……就……”
　
　　海格突然掏出一块污渍斑斑的、脏得要命的手帕擤鼻涕，那声音响得像在吹晨号。
　
　　“对不起，”他说，“这是一个不幸的消息。我认识你的父母，再也找不到比他们再好的人了，不管怎么说……神秘人把他们杀了，可是叫人弄不明白的是他也要去杀你。也许是想斩尽杀绝吧。可他没有杀成。你就从来没有想过你脑门上那道伤疤是怎么来的吗？那不是一般的刀疤。那是一道很厉害的魔咒，它杀了你的父母，毁了你的家，可是碰到你身上却没有起作用。于是你也就因为这出名了，哈利。只要他决定要杀的人，没有一个能躲过劫难，只有你大难不死。他杀掉了当时一些优秀的男女巫师，比如麦金农夫妇、彭斯夫妇、普成特夫妇。你是惟一大难不死，活下来的人。”
　
　　哈利的脑海里出现了一些非常悲惨的景象。当海格的故事就要讲完的时候，那道耀眼的绿光突然闪现，比他记忆中的任何一次都更加清晰，他又想起另外一些事，他生平第一次听到一阵响亮、阴冷、凶残的笑声。
　
　　海格难过地看着他，“我奉邓布利多之命亲自把你从那拣被毁的房子里抱了出来，送到这里……”
　
　　“胡说八道。”弗农姨父说。
　
　　哈利跳了起来，他差点儿忘了德思礼夫妇还在这里。
　
　　弗农姨父显然恢复了勇气，他紧握双拳，对海格怒目而视。
　
　　“小子，现在听我说，”他咆哮起来，“我承认你身上是有些奇怪的地方，就是好好揍你一顿也治不了。至于你父母，我只能说，他们都是怪物，这是不可否认的。我是说，这世界上没有他们会更好，看看他们都干了些什么，整天跟男女巫师混在一起，我早就知道他们迟早要吃苦头……”
　
　　正说话时，海格突然从沙发上跳起来，从外衣内袋里掏出一把粉红色的破伞来。他像拿着一把剑那样用伞指着弗农姨父说：“我警告你，德思礼，我警告你
……敢再说一个字……”
　
　　弗农姨父怕被这个大胡子巨人的伞头戳伤，又泄气了，紧贴着墙不敢再说话了。
　
　　“这样才好。”海格说着，大口喘气，坐到沙发上，这回沙发整个塌到地板上了。

　　这时哈利还有许多问题，成百上千的问题要问。“可是伏……对不起，我是说，那个神秘人后来怎么样了？”
　
　　“问得好，哈利。他不见了，失踪了，就在要杀你的当天夜里。这一来就让你的名气更大了。这也是最让人弄不明白的地方，你看……他的法力越来越强，他为什么要走掉呢？有人说他死了。我认为这纯粹是胡说八道。他身上恐怕已经没有多少人性了，所以也就不可能死去。有人说他还在这一带，等待时机，可能吧，但我不相信。原来支持他的人都回到我们这边来了。有些人已经从噩梦中清醒。如果他还会东山再起，他们是不可能这么做的。
　
　　“我们大多数人都认为他还在这一带，不过已经失去了法力，已经虚弱得成不了气候了。因为你身上具有的某种力量把他毁了，哈利。那天晚上肯定发生了一件他没有预料到的事……我不知道会是什么，没有人知道……不过你身上具有的某种力量使他受挫了，就是这样。”
　
　　海格用热切而崇敬的目光注视着哈利，但哈利并没有感觉到高兴和自豪，相反，他认为这肯定是一个可怕的错误。一个巫师？他？他怎么可能是一个巫师？他一直在达力的殴打和佩妮姨妈、弗农姨父的凌辱下偷生。如果他真的是一名巫师，那么当他们要把他锁进碗柜的时候，他们为什么没有变成疙疙瘩瘩的癞蛤蟆呢？如果他曾经打败过世界上最大的魔法师，那么达力为什么能像踢足球那样把他踢得到处乱跑呢？“海格，”他轻声说，“我想您一定搞错了，我想，我不可能是一个巫师。”
　
　　哈利很吃惊，海格居然咯咯地笑起来，“不是巫师，你害怕或生气的时候就从来没有事情发生吗？”
　
　　哈利看着炉火，开始思索这件事情——每件惹得他姨父姨妈对他大发雷霆的怪事都发生在他——哈利——情绪不好或生气的时候——被达力的一伙追打的时候，他总有办法让他们追不着……他正为剪成那样可笑的发型上学发愁，可又即刻想出办法让头发恢复了原样……而最近一次达力追打他的时候，他不是在不知不觉中就对他进行了报复吗？他不是放一条巨蟒去吓唬达力了吗？
　
　　哈利回过头来对海格报以一笑，发现海格也朝他露出了笑容。
　
　　“明白了吧？”海格说，“哈利波特，不是巫师……你等着瞧吧，你会在霍格沃茨名声大噪的。”
　
　　但弗农姨父也不甘心就此罢休。“难道我没有对你说过他不去吗？”他尖着嗓子说，“他要去上石墙中学，他会感激我的。我看过那些信，要他准备一大堆无用的东西……像咒语书，还有魔杖什么的……”
　
　　“如果他真想去，像你这样不相信魔法的大傻瓜是拦不住他的，”海格咆哮说，“阻止莉莉和詹姆波特的儿子上霍格沃茨！你这是疯了。他从生下来，他的名字就已经入了霍格沃茨的名册了。他要进的是世界上最优秀的魔法学校。七年之后，他会面貌一新。他要和跟他一样的孩子在一起，换换环境，还要在霍格沃茨有史以来最伟大的校长阿不思邓布利多的教导下……”
　
　　“我决不花钱让一个疯老头子，一个大傻瓜去教他变戏法！”弗农姨父大吼起来。
　
　　不过这次他确实太过分了。海格抓起他的伞在头顶上绕了几圈，怒喝：“永远——不准——在——我——面前——侮辱——阿不思——邓布利多！”
　
　　他用伞嗖的一声在空中猛挥了一下，然后直指达力，忽的一道紫罗兰色的闪光、一声鞭炮似的响声、一声尖叫，接着达力就用双手捂着他肥胖的屁股，疼得直蹦，哇哇乱叫。当他把身子转过去、背朝他们时，哈利看见一根卷曲的猪尾巴从裤子的破洞里伸了出来。
　
　　弗农姨父一边吼叫，一边把佩妮姨妈和达力朝另一间屋拖。他最后用恫吓的目光瞪了海格一眼，砰的一声把门带上。
　
　　海格低头看了看伞，捋了捋胡须。
　
　　“我不该发火，”他懊恼地说，“不过，还是没有成功。我本来想把他变成一只猪，只是也许他已经太像猪了，所以用不着再去变什么了。”
　
　　他从浓密的眉毛下斜瞟了哈利一眼。
　
　　“要是你对霍格沃茨的任何人都不提这件事，我就谢谢你了。”他说，“我
……哦……严格地讲，我不能施用法术。只有在找你或给你送信的时候才准许我用一点儿——这也是我热心接下这个工作的原因之一。”
　
　　“为什么不准许您施用魔法呢？”哈利问。
　
　　“哦，是这样，我自己也在霍格沃茨上过学，但是，实话对你说，我……哦
……被开除了。我当时三年级。他们撅断了我的魔杖，其他东西都没收了。可邓布利多让我留下看管狩猎场。他可真是个了不起的人啊。”
　
　　“你为什么被开除？”
　
　　“时间太晚了，明天我们还有许多事情要做，”海格大声说，“明天一早还要进城给你买书什么的。”
　
　　他脱下黑色的厚呢外衣，扔给哈利。
　
　　“你就盖着这个睡吧。”他说，“要是有什么东西乱动，没关系，我想，有个衣袋里好像还装着两只睡鼠。”
　

　
　　①戈耳工，希腊神话中的三个蛇发女怪之一，面貌可怕，人见之立即化为顽石。
　　②基督教万圣节为每年11月l日。

　

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举报只看该作者 4楼发表于: 2013-10-23 0

　　CHAPTER FIVE
　　DIAGON ALLEY
　　Harry woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight.
　　"It was a dream, he told himself firmly. "I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in my cupboard."
　　There was suddenly a loud tapping noise.
　　And there's Aunt Petunia knocking on the door, Harry thought, his heart sinking. But he still didn't open his eyes. It had been such a good dream.
　　Tap. Tap. Tap.
　　"All right," Harry mumbled, "I'm getting up."
　　He sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off him. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.
　　Harry scrambled to his feet, so happy he felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside him. He went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.
　　"Don't do that."
　　Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.
　　"Hagrid!" said Harry loudly. "There's an owl
　　"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.
　　"What?"
　　"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets." Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets -- bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags... finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.
　　"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.
　　"Knuts?"
　　"The little bronze ones."
　　Harry counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.
　　Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.
　　"Best be Off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."
　　Harry was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. He had just thought of something that made him feel as though the happy balloon inside him had got a puncture.
　　"Um -- Hagrid?"
　　"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.
　　"I haven't got any money -- and you heard Uncle Vernon last night ... he won't pay for me to go and learn magic."
　　"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"
　　"But if their house was destroyed --"
　　"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold -- an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."
　　"Wizards have banks?"
　　"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."
　　Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding.
　　"Goblins?"
　　"Yeah -- so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe -- 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you gettin' things from Gringotts -- knows he can trust me, see.
　　"Got everythin'? Come on, then."
　　Harry followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.
　　"How did you get here?" Harry asked, looking around for another boat. "Flew," said Hagrid.
　　"Flew?"
　　"Yeah -- but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."
　　They settled down in the boat, Harry still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying.
　　"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Harry another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter -- er -- speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"
　　"Of course not," said Harry, eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.
　　"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Harry asked.
　　"Spells -- enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the highsecurity vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way -- Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."
　　Harry sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper, the Daily Prophet. Harry had learned from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult, he'd never had so many questions in his life.
　　"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page.
　　"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked, before he could stop himself.
　　"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, 0 ' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."
　　"But what does a Ministry of Magic do?"
　　"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country."
　　"Why?"
　　"Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone."
　　At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.
　　Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Harry couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Harry? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"
　　"Hagrid," said Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, "did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"
　　"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."
　　"You'd like one?"
　　"Wanted one ever since I was a kid -- here we go."
　　They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to Harry so he could buy their tickets.
　　People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.
　　"Still got yer letter, Harry?" he asked as he counted stitches. Harry took the parchment envelope out of his pocket.
　　"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."
　　Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn't noticed the night before, and read:
　　HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
　　UNIFORM
　　First-year students will require:
　　1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
　　2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
　　3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
　　4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
　　Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags
　　COURSE BOOKS
　　All students should have a copy of each of the following:
　　The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
　　A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
　　Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
　　A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch
　　One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
　　Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
　　Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
　　The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
　　OTHER EQUIPMENT
　　wand cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) set
　　glass or crystal phials
　　telescope set
　　brass scales
　　Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad
　　PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS
　　"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered aloud.
　　"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.
　　Harry had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.
　　"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.
　　Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up? If Harry hadn't known that the Dursleys had no sense of humor, he might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told him so far was unbelievable, Harry couldn't help trusting him.
　　"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."
　　It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he and Hagrid could see it. Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered him inside.
　　For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"
　　"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making Harry's knees buckle.
　　"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "is this -- can this be --?"
　　The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.
　　"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter... what an honor."
　　He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.
　　"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."
　　Harry didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.
　　Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.
　　"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."
　　"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."
　　"Always wanted to shake your hand -- I'm all of a flutter."
　　"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."
　　"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."
　　"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? He remembers me!" Harry shook hands again and again -- Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.
　　A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.
　　"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."
　　"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you."
　　"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"
　　"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.
　　But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.
　　"Must get on -- lots ter buy. Come on, Harry."
　　Doris Crockford shook Harry's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.
　　Hagrid grinned at Harry.
　　"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh -- mind you, he's usually tremblin'."
　　"Is he always that nervous?"
　　"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was
　　studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience.... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag -- never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject now, where's me umbrella?"
　　Vampires? Hags? Harry's head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.
　　"Three up... two across he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry."
　　He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.
　　The brick he had touched quivered -- it wriggled -- in the middle, a small hole appeared -- it grew wider and wider -- a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.
　　"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."
　　He grinned at Harry's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harry looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall.
　　The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons -- All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver -- Self-Stirring -- Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.
　　"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."
　　Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad...."
　　A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium -- Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand -- fastest ever --" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon....
　　"Gringotts," said Hagrid.
　　They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was -
　　"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:
　　Enter, stranger, but take heed
　　Of what awaits the sin of greed,
　　For those who take, but do not earn,
　　Must pay most dearly in their turn.
　　So if you seek beneath our floors
　　A treasure that was never yours,
　　Thief, you have been warned, beware
　　Of finding more than treasure there.
　　"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.
　　A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Harry made for the counter.
　　"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe."
　　"You have his key, Sir?"
　　"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.
　　"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.
　　The goblin looked at it closely.
　　"That seems to be in order."
　　"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the YouKnow-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."
　　The goblin read the letter carefully.
　　"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have Someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"
　　Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Harry followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.
　　"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked.
　　"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."
　　Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in -- Hagrid with some difficulty -- and were off.
　　At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.
　　Harry's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late - - they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.
　　I never know," Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"
　　"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."
　　He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.
　　Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.
　　"All yours," smiled Hagrid.
　　All Harry's -- it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Harry cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to him, buried deep under London.
　　Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag.
　　"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"
　　"One speed only," said Griphook.
　　They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.
　　Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.
　　"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.
　　"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.
　　"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked.
　　"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.
　　Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Harry was sure, and he leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least -- but at first he thought it was empty. Then he noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Harry longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.
　　"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.
　　One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry didn't know where to run first now that he had a bag full of money. He didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that he was holding more money than he'd had in his whole life -- more money than even Dudley had ever had.
　　"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Harry entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.
　　Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.
　　"Hogwarts, clear?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here -- another young man being fitted up just now, in fact. "
　　In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him) slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.
　　"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"
　　"Yes," said Harry.
　　"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."
　　Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.
　　"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.
　　"No," said Harry.
　　"Play Quidditch at all?"
　　"No," Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.
　　"I do -- Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"
　　"No," said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute.
　　"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been -- imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" "Mmm," said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting.
　　"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.
　　"That's Hagrid," said Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."
　　"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"
　　"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry. He was liking the boy less and less every second.
　　"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage -- lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."
　　"I think he's brilliant," said Harry coldly.
　　"Do you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"
　　"They're dead," said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy.
　　"Oh, sorry," said the other,. not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"
　　"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."
　　"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"
　　But before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.
　　"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy.
　　Harry was rather quiet as he ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought him (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).
　　"What's up?" said Hagrid.
　　"Nothing," Harry lied. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote. When they had left the shop, he said, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"
　　"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know -- not knowin' about Quidditch!"
　　"Don't make me feel worse," said Harry. He told Hagrid about the pate boy in Madam Malkin's.
　　"--and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in."
　　"Yer not from a Muggle family. If he'd known who yeh were -- he's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line 0' Muggles -- look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"
　　"So what is Quidditch?"
　　"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like -- like soccer in the Muggle world -- everyone follows Quidditch -- played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls -- sorta hard ter explain the rules." "And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"
　　"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but --"
　　"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff" said Harry gloomily.
　　"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."
　　"Vol-, sorry - You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"
　　"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.
　　They bought Harry's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue- Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.
　　"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley."
　　"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level."
　　Hagrid wouldn't let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says pewter on yer list"), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harry, Harry himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).
　　Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list again.
　　"Just yer wand left - A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."
　　Harry felt himself go red.
　　"You don't have to --"
　　"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at - an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."
　　Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He couldn't stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell.
　　"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now - only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."
　　A magic wand... this was what Harry had been really looking forward to.
　　The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.
　　A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.
　　"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.
　　An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.
　　"Hello," said Harry awkwardly.
　　"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."
　　Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.
　　"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it -- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."
　　Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.
　　"And that's where..."
　　Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.
　　"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do...."
　　He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, spotted Hagrid.
　　"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again.... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"
　　"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.
　　"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.
　　"Er -- yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.
　　"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.
　　"Oh, no, sit," said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.
　　"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now -- Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"
　　"Er -- well, I'm right-handed," said Harry.
　　"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."
　　Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.
　　"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."
　　Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.
　　"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try --"
　　Harry tried -- but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.
　　"No, no -here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."
　　Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.
　　"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere -- I wonder, now - - yes, why not -- unusual combination -- holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."
　　Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious... "
　　He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious..
　　"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?"
　　Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.
　　"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather -- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave you that scar."
　　Harry swallowed.
　　"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember.... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter.... After all, He- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things -- terrible, yes, but great."
　　Harry shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.
　　The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harry and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harry didn't speak at all as they walked down the road; he didn't even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harry's lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harry only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder.
　　"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said.
　　He bought Harry a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Harry kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.
　　"You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.
　　Harry wasn't sure he could explain. He'd just had the best birthday of his life -- and yet -- he chewed his hamburger, trying to find the words.
　　"Everyone thinks I'm special," he said at last. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander... but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry -- I mean, the night my parents died."
　　Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.
　　"Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts -- I did -- still do, 'smatter of fact."
　　Hagrid helped Harry on to the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, then handed him an envelope.
　　"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts, " he said. "First o' September -- King's Cross -- it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me.... See yeh soon, Harry."
　　The train pulled out of the station. Harry wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; he rose in his seat and pressed his nose against the window, but he blinked and Hagrid had gone.

第五章　对角巷
　
　

　
　　第二天一大早哈利就醒了。他明明知道天已经亮了，可还是把眼睛闭得紧紧的。“这是一个梦，”他确定无疑地对自己说，“我梦见一个叫海格的巨人，他来对我说，要我进一所魔法学校。等我一睁眼，我准在家里，在碗柜里。”
　
　　突然传来一阵啪啪的响声。
　
　　“又是佩妮姨妈在捶门了。”哈利心想，他的心一沉。可他没有睁开眼。因为那个梦实在太好了。
　
　　啪，啪，啪。
　
　　“好了，”哈利嘟哝说，“我这就起来。”
　
　　他坐了起来，海格的厚外衣从身上滑了下来。小屋里充满了阳光，暴风雨已经过去了。海格睡在坍塌的沙发上。一只猫头鹰正用爪子敲打窗户，嘴里衔着一份报纸。哈利感到特别高兴，仿佛胸中揣着的一个气球渐渐鼓起来，使他飘飘欲仙。他径直走到窗前，用力推开窗户。猫头鹰飞了进来，把报纸扔到海格身上，但他还是没有醒。猫头鹰扑腾着翅膀飞到地上，开始抓海格的外衣。
　
　　“别抓。”哈利摆手想让猫头鹰走开，可是猫头鹰用它的利喙朝哈利猛啄过去，之后又去抓海格的外衣。
　
　　“海格！”哈利大声喊道，“这里有一只猫头鹰……”
　
　　“把钱付给它。”海格在沙发里哼哼唧唧地说。
　
　　“什么？”
　
　　“它要你付送报费。你在外衣袋里找找。”
　
　　海格的外衣上面除了口袋，大概就没有别的什么了——口袋里装着成串的钥匙、小弹丸、线团、薄荷硬糖、茶袋……最后哈利终于掏出了一把稀奇古怪的硬币。
　
　　“给它五个纳特。”海格睡意朦胧地说。
　
　　“‘纳特’？”
　
　　“那些小铜板。”
　
　　哈利数出五个铜板，猫头鹰伸出一只腿，要他把硬币放进绑在腿上的一只小皮囊里。随后它从敞开的窗口飞出去了。
　
　　海格打了个大哈欠，坐起来伸了伸懒腰。
　
　　“咱们最好还是早点走吧，哈利，今天还有好多事要做呢，要去伦敦给你买上学需要的所有东西。”
　
　　哈利摆弄着巫师的钱币，沉思起来。他不知想起了什么，觉得胸中那只快乐的气球被戳破了。
　
　　“唔，海格？”
　
　　“怎么？”海格说，正在套他的大靴子。
　
　　“我一个钱也没有，昨天晚上你已经听弗农姨父说过了，他不会花钱让我去学魔法的。”
　
　　“这个你不用担心，”海格说，站起来搔了搔头，“你以为你父母什么也没有给你留下吗？”
　
　　“可要是连他们的房子全都毁了……”
　
　　“他们是不会把黄金放在家里的，孩子！我们第一站去古灵阁。巫师银行。来一根香肠吧，冷的吃着味道也可以——加上一块你的生日蛋糕更不错。”
　
　　“巫师还有银行？”
　
　　“只有一家。古灵阁。是妖精们开的。”
　
　　哈利手里的香肠掉到了地上。
　
　　“妖精？”
　
　　“是的，所以，听我说，你要是想抢银行，那你就是发疯了。绝对不能把妖精们惹恼了，哈利。如果你想找一个安全可靠的地方存放东西，那么，我想除了霍格沃茨之外就是古灵阁了。其实，不管怎样我都要去一趟古灵阁，去替邓布利多办一件霍格沃茨的公事。”海格很得意地挺起胸来，“重要的事情他总是要我去办，比如说去接你，去古灵阁取东西，都要我去，他知道他可以信任我，明白吗？”
　
　　“东西都带好了吗？那就走吧。”哈利跟着海格来到外面的礁石上。这时天晴气爽，海水闪烁着阳光。弗农姨父租的那条船还泊在原处，暴风雨过后，船底积了许多水。
　
　　“您是怎么到这里来的？”哈利问，四下里搜寻另外一条船。
　
　　“飞过来的。”海格说。
　
　　“飞？”
　
　　“是的，不过我们得坐这条船回去。找到你以后，我就不能用法术了。”
　
　　他们在船上坐定，哈利还在目不转睛地盯着海格，竭力想象他飞行的样子。
　
　　“划船好像有点丢人，不过，”海格说着，又朝哈利斜瞟了一眼，“我要是让……让……船开快一点，你能在霍格沃茨不提这件事吗？”
　
　　“当然可以。”哈利说，他心急火燎想看到更多的法术。
　
　　海格抽出他那把粉红色的伞，敲了两下船帮，他们就飞快地向岸边驶去了。
　
　　“您为什么说疯子才会去抢古灵阁呢？”哈利问。
　
　　“因为他们会咒语——会施妖术。”海格一边说，一边翻开报纸。“他们说那些防范最严密的金库都由龙把守。要到那里还得先找到路——古灵阁在伦敦地下好几百英里的地方呢，明白吗？比地铁还要深。如果你真有办法偷到了一点东西，在没有找到出来的路之前，你早就饿死了。”
　
　　海格开始看他的《预言家日报》，哈利还坐在那里思前想后。哈利从弗农姨父那里知道人读报的时候总喜欢清静，可这实在太难了，他平生从来没有像现在这样有这么多问题想问。
　
　　“魔法部总是把事情搞得一团糟。”海格翻过报纸，抱怨说。
　
　　“还有魔法部？”哈利忍不住问。
　
　　“当然了，”海格说，“他们当然希望邓布利多当他们的部长，可是他决意不离开霍格沃茨。这么一来，老康奈利福吉就担任了这一职务。他是天下最没头脑的人了，总是砸锅。所以他每天早晨总派许多猫头鹰到邓布利多那里去要邓布利多出点子。”
　
　　“可这个魔法部做些什么呢？”
　
　　“哦，他们的主要工作是不让麻瓜们发现这个国家还有那么多男女巫师。”
　
　　“为什么？”
　
　　“为什么？我的天哪，哈利，人人都希望用法术来解决遇到的难题。我们最好还是别去惹这些事。”
　
　　这时船轻轻地碰到了码头。海格卷起报纸，两人踏上石阶向大街走去。
　
　　当他们俩穿过小城向车站走去时，一路上过往的人都目不转睛地盯着海格。哈利并不怪他们，这不仅因为海格比普通人要高大一倍，而且他还不停地对一些诸如汽车停车计费器之类很平常的东西指指点点，大声说：“你看见那玩艺儿了吗，哈利？这又是麻瓜们搞出来的什么名堂，嗯？”
　
　　“海格，”哈利说，为了追上海格的脚步，他已经有些气喘吁吁了，“您是说古灵阁有龙吗？”
　
　　“是的，他们这么说。”海格说，“哟，我也想要一条龙呢。”
　
　　“您也想要一条龙？”
　
　　“我从小就想要了……走这边。”
　
　　他们来到了车站，再过五分钟有一趟开往伦敦的列车。海格说他不会用麻瓜的钱，就把钞票塞到了哈利手中，让他去买车票。
　
　　在火车上人们就更盯着他们看了。海格占据了两个座位。落座之后还编织起一顶淡黄色的、像马戏团帐篷一样的东西。
　
　　“给你的信带了吗？”他一边数针，一边问。
　
　　哈利从衣袋里掏出一个羊皮纸信封。
　
　　“好，”海格说，“里边有一张必备用品的单子。”
　
　　哈利打开昨天夜里没有留意的第二页信纸，读道：
　
　　霍格沃茨魔法学校
　
　　（制服）一年级新生需要：
　　1．三套素面工作袍（黑色）
　　2．一顶日间戴的素面尖顶帽（黑色）
　　3．一双防护手套（龙皮或同类材料制作）
　　4．一件冬用斗篷（黑色，银扣）
　　请注意：学生全部服装均须缀有姓名标牌
　
　　（课本）全部学生均需准备下列图书：
　　《标准咒语（初级）》　米兰达戈沙克著
　　《魔法史》　巴希达巴沙特著
　　《魔法理论》　阿德贝沃夫林著
　　《初学变形指南》　埃默瑞斯威奇著
　　《千种神奇草药及蕈类》　菲利达斯波尔著
　　《魔法药剂与药水》　阿森尼吉格著
　　《怪兽及其产地》　纽特斯卡曼著
　　《黑暗力量：自卫指南》　昆丁特林布著
　
　　（其他装备）
　　一支魔杖
　　一只大锅（锡镀制，标准尺寸2号）
　　一套玻璃或水晶小药瓶
　　一架望远镜
　　一台黄铜天平
　
　　学生可携带一只猫头鹰或一只猫或一只蟾蜍，在此特别提请家长注意，一年级新生不准自带飞天扫帚①
　
　　“这些东西我们在伦敦都能买到吗？”哈利大声问。
　
　　“只要你知道门径就行。”海格说。
　
　　哈利以前从未来过伦敦。海格尽管知道路，但他过去显然不是以常人的方法来的。他在地铁验票口被卡住了，接着又大声抱怨座位太窄，车速太慢。
　
　　“我真不知道这些麻瓜们不懂法术怎么办事。”当他们顺着出了故障的自动扶梯爬到店铺林立、人群熙熙攘攘的大街时，海格又说。
　
　　海格人高马大，毫不费事就从人群中挤了过去，哈利只消紧跟在他背后就可以了。他们经过书店、唱片店、汉堡专卖店、电影院，就是找不到一家卖魔杖的商店。这只是一条普普通通的街道，挤满了普通人。
　
　　当真会有成堆的巫师的金币埋藏在他们脚下吗？真会有出售咒语书和飞天扫帚的商店吗？这一切可不可能是德思礼夫妇开的一个大玩笑呢？要不是哈利知道德思礼夫妇毫无幽默感，他也许就会这么想。可是到目前为止，海格所讲的一切都太离奇，令人难以置信，可他还是不能不相信他。
　
　　“就是这里，”海格停下来说，“破釜酒吧。这是一个很有名的地方。”
　
　　这是一家肮脏的狭小酒吧。要不是海格指出来，哈利很可能不会注意。匆忙过往的人们连看也不看它一眼。他们的目光只落在一边的一家大书店和另一边的一家唱片店上，他们好像根本看不见破釜酒吧。哈利有一种很奇怪的感觉，似乎只有他和海格能看见这家酒吧。他还没来得及说话，海格就已经把他推到店里去了。
　
　　作为一个出名的地方，这里实在是太黑太脏了。几个老太婆坐在屋角里拿着小杯喝雪利酒，其中一个正在抽一杆长烟袋。一个戴大礼帽的小男人正在跟一个头发几乎脱光、长得像瘪胡桃似的酒吧老板聊天。他们刚一进门，嘁嘁喳喳的说话声就突然停了下来。这里好像人人都认识海格，他们向他微笑、招手。酒吧老板拿起一只杯子说：“照老规矩，海格？”
　
　　“不了，汤姆，我正在给霍格沃茨办事呢。”海格用他的巨掌拍了拍酒吧老板的肩膀，差点儿没把他压趴下。
　
　　“我的天哪，”酒吧老板仔细端详着哈利，说道，“这位是……这位莫非是
……”
　
　　破釜酒吧里顿时悄然无声。
　
　　“哎呀！”酒吧老板小声说，“哈利波特……荣幸之至。”他连忙从吧台后边出来，朝哈利跑过去，抓起他的手，热泪盈眶。“欢迎回来，波特先生，欢迎你回来。”
　
　　哈利不知说什么好。大家都在看他。那个抽长烟袋的老太婆一个劲地抽，根本没发现烟袋已经熄灭了。海格一直在笑。接着椅子噼噼啪啪地响了起来，哈利突然发现自己竟跟破釜酒吧的人一一握起手来。
　
　　“我是科多利，波特先生，真是不敢相信，总算见到您了。”
　
　　“太荣幸了，波特先生，太荣幸了。”
　
　　“早就盼着跟您握手了——我的心怦怦直跳。”
　
　　“太高兴了，波特先生，简直没法说明我的心情，我叫迪歌。”
　
　　“我以前见过您，”当迪歌过分激动、礼帽掉下来时，哈利大喊道，“有一次在商店里，你朝我鞠躬。”
　
　　“他居然还记得！”迪歌看着在场的每个人喊道，“你们听见没有？他还记得我呢！”
　
　　于是哈利就一遍又一遍地握手——科多利总跑过来要求再跟他握一次。一个面色苍白的年轻人走过来，神情显得非常紧张，他的一只眼睛在抽动。
　
　　“奇洛教授！”海格说道，“哈利，奇洛教授是在霍格沃茨教你的老师之一呢。”
　
　　“波——波——波特，”奇洛教授结结巴巴地说，抓起哈利的手，“见到你有说——说不出的——高——高兴。”
　
　　“您教哪一类魔法，奇洛教授？”
　
　　“对付黑——黑——黑魔法的防——防御术。”奇洛教授含糊不清地说，似乎他觉得还是不提为好。“这你已经用——用不——不着学了，是吧，波——波
——波特先生？”他神经质地哈哈大笑起来。“你这是准——准备去买你需要的东西吧？我也要——要去买——买一本关于吸血鬼的新——新书。”似乎想起这件事就把他吓坏了。
　
　　可是其余的人不会让奇洛教授跟哈利说个没完。哈利花了大概十来分钟的时间才把他们摆脱掉。在一片喋喋不休的说话声中，海格提高嗓门叫哈利：“该走了，还有好多东西要买呢。走吧，哈利。”
　
　　科多利最后一次跟哈利握过手，海格就领着他穿过吧台，来到四面有围墙的小天井。这里除了一只垃圾桶和一些杂草，此外什么也没有。
　
　　海格朝哈利咧嘴一笑，“我不是对你说过了吗，是不是？对你说过你很有名气。连奇洛教授在你面前都要发抖——不过，我要提醒你，他经常发抖。”
　
　　“他总是这么神经紧张吗？”
　
　　“哦，是的。倒霉的家伙。头脑聪明极了，上学的时候书也读得很好。可后来他休了一年学，为了要获得一些第一手的实践经验……据说，他在黑森林里遇到了吸血鬼，一个老巫婆又使他遭到了很大麻烦，从那以后，他就完全变成了另外一个人。害怕学生，害怕自己教的科目……哦，我的伞呢？”
　
　　吸血鬼？老巫婆？搞得哈利都晕头转向了。这时海格正在数垃圾箱上边的墙砖。
　
　　“往上数三块……再往横里数两块……”他小声念叨，“好了，往后站，哈利。”
　
　　他用伞头在墙上轻轻敲了三下。
　
　　他敲过的那块砖抖动起来，开始移动，中间的地方出现一个小洞，洞口越变越大，不多时他们面前就出现了一条足以让海格通过的宽阔的拱道，通向一条蜿蜒曲折、看不见尽头的鹅卵石铺砌的街道。
　
　　“欢迎，”海格说，“欢迎你来到对角巷。”见哈利惊讶不已，海格朝他咧嘴一笑。
　
　　他们沿拱道走去，哈利忙侧身回头一看，只见拱道一下子变窄了，然后又变成了原来坚实的墙壁。
　
　　耀眼的阳光投射在最近一家商店门外的一摞锅上。锅的上方悬挂着一块牌：铜制、黄铜制、锡镀制、银制大锅，型号齐全，自动搅拌，可折叠。
　
　　“哦，你需要买一只，”海格说，“不过我们先得去取钱。”
　
　　哈利恨不能再多长八只眼睛。他们走在街上，他一路东张西望，希望把一切都看个通通透透：所有的店铺、店铺前的物件、购物的人们。
　
　　一个胖女人站在药店外边，当他们经过时，她摇着头说：“龙肝，十七西可一盎司，他们疯了……”
　
　　从一家晦暗的商店里传出一阵低沉轻柔的呜呜声，门前的招牌上写着：咿啦猫头鹰商店——灰林枭、鸣角枭、草枭、褐枭、雪枭。
　
　　几个与哈利年龄相仿的男孩鼻尖紧贴着橱窗玻璃，橱窗里摆着飞天扫帚。
　
　　“看哪，”哈利听见一个男孩说，“那是新型的光轮2000……最高速……”
　
　　还有的商店出售长袍，有的出售望远镜和哈利从来见过的稀奇古怪的银器。还有的橱窗里摆满了一篓篓蝙蝠脾脏和鳗鱼眼珠，堆满了符咒书、羽毛笔、一卷卷羊皮纸、药瓶、月球仪……
　
　　“古灵阁到了。”海格说。
　
　　他们来到一幢高高耸立在周围店铺之上的雪白的楼房前，亮闪闪的青铜大门旁，站着一个穿一身猩红镶金制服的身影，那不就是……
　
　　“不错，那就是一个妖精。”当他们沿着白色石阶朝那人走去时，海格镇定地小声说。
　
　　这个妖精大约比哈利矮一头，生着一张透着聪明的黝黑面孔，尖尖的胡子，哈利发现他的手和脚都特别长。
　
　　他们进门时，那妖精向他们鞠躬行礼。之后他们面前出现了第二道门，是银色的，两扇门上镌刻着如下的文字：请进，陌生人，不过你要当心贪得无厌会是什么下场，一味索取，不劳而获，必将受到最严厉的惩罚，因此如果你想从我们的地下金库取走一份从来不属于你的财富，窃贼啊，你已经受到警告，当心招来的不是宝藏，而是恶报。
　
　　“就像我说的，你要是想抢银行，那你就是疯了。”海格说。
　
　　两个妖精向他们鞠躬，把他们引进了一间高大的大理石厅堂。大约有百十来个妖精坐在一排长柜台后边的高凳上，有的用铜天平称钱币，有的用目镜检验宝石，一边往大账本上草草地登记。厅里有数不清的门，分别通往不同的地方，许多妖精指引来人出入这些门。海格和哈利朝柜台走去。
　
　　“早，”海格对一个闲着的妖精说，“我们要从哈利波特先生的保险库里取一些钱。”
　
　　“您有他的钥匙吗，先生？”
　
　　“带来了。”海格说着，把衣袋里所有的东西都掏出来放到柜台上，不小心将一把发霉的狗饼干撒在了妖精的账本上。妖精皱了皱鼻子。哈利看着右边那个妖精正在称一堆跟烧红的煤块一般大小的红宝石。
　
　　“找到了。”海格终于说，举起一把小金钥匙。
　
　　妖精认真仔细地查看了一番，“应当没有问题。”
　
　　“我这里还有一封邓布利多教授写的信，”他郑重其事地说着，挺起胸来，“是关于713号地下金库里的‘那件东西’的。”
　
　　妖精仔细看了信。
　
　　“很好，”他说着，把信交还给海格，“我找人带你们去这两个地下金库。拉环！”拉环是另外一个妖精。
　
　　海格把狗饼干全装回里边口袋里之后，就和哈利跟随拉环从其中一扇门走出了大厅。
　
　　“713号地下金库里的‘那件东西’是什么？”哈利问。
　
　　“这我不能告诉你。”海格神神秘秘地说，“这是绝对机密，是关于霍格沃茨的事。邓布利多信任我。这是我的工作，不值得讲给你听。”
　
　　拉环为他们俩打开门。哈利本以为又会看到许多大理石，但他吃了一惊。眼前是一道狭窄的石廊，燃烧的火把将它照得通明。石廊是一道陡峭的下坡，下面有一条小铁路。拉环吹了一声口哨，一辆小推车沿着铁道朝他们猛冲过来。他们爬上车——海格可费了不少劲——就出发了。
　
　　起初，他们沿着迷宫似的蜿蜒曲折的甬道向前疾驰，哈利想记住走过的路，左拐，右拐，右拐，左拐，中间的岔路口，再右拐，左拐，根本记不住。咔哒咔哒响的小推车似乎认识路，根本不用拉环去驾车。
　
　　冰冷空气呼啸而过，把哈利的眼睛都吹痛了，但是他还是竭力睁大眼睛。一次，他似乎看到甬道尽头有一团火，便转过身去，想看看那里是不是有一条龙。但是，已经来不及了，他们已经冲到地底下更深的地方，经过一片地下湖，上边挂满了巨大的钟乳石和石笋，一直垂到地上。
　
　　“我一直弄不清，”哈利在咔哒咔哒的车声中，对海格喊道，“钟乳石和石笋有什么区别？”
　
　　“钟乳石这个字中有个字母Ｍ。”海格说，“现在别向我提问题，我觉得要吐了。”
　
　　他的脸色铁青，当小推车终于在甬道的一扇小门前停下来时，海格爬下车之后就紧靠在甬道墙上，这样才使双膝不至于发抖。
　
　　拉环打开门锁。一股浓浓的绿烟从门里冒出来，浓烟散尽之后，哈利倒抽了一口气。里边是成堆的金币、银条和堆积如山的青铜纳特。
　
　　“这全都是你的。”海格笑着说。
　
　　全都是哈利的，真令人难以置信。德思礼夫妇对此肯定一无所知，否则用不了一眨眼的工夫，他们就会把这一切全部据为己有。他们不是经常抱怨收养哈利要花费许多钱吗？可他一直拥有一笔属于他的小小财富，深埋在伦敦地下呢。
　
　　海格帮着哈利把钱装进袋子里。“金币是加隆，”他解释说，“十七个银西可合一个加隆，二十九个纳特合一个西可，够简单了吧。好了，足够两学期用的了，剩下的我替你保管着。”他转身对拉环说：“现在带我们去713号地下金库吧，不过能不能麻烦你让车开得慢一些？”
　
　　“车速只有一个。”拉环说。
　
　　他们下到越来越深的地方，加快了速度。在急转弯的地方空气变得更寒冷刺骨。小推车咔哒咔哒响着来到一处山涧之上。哈利将身子探出车外，想看看黑洞洞的山涧里究竟有什么东西。海格哼了一声，揪住哈利的脖领，把他拽了回来。
　
　　713号地下金库没有钥匙孔。
　
　　“往后站。”拉环郑重其事地说。他伸出一个长长的手指轻轻敲门，那门竟轻轻地一点一点地消失了。
　
　　“除了古灵阁的妖精之外，其他任何人要这么做，都会被门吸进去，陷在门里出不来。”拉环说。
　
　　“你多长时间才来查看一次，看里边是否有人呢？”
　
　　“大概十年一次吧。”拉环说，不怀好意地咧嘴一笑。
　
　　在这个超级保险的地下金库里，毫无疑问会存放着非同一般的东西。这一点哈利很肯定，于是他凑过去急于想看看，至少里边会有神奇的珠宝，可是他最初的感觉是里边什么也没有。之后，他发现地上有一个用棕色纸包着的脏兮兮的小包。海格把它捡了起来，深深地塞到外衣里边的口袋里。哈利很想知道那里边究竟是什么，但他明白问了也没用。
　
　　“走，回去上那辆该死的车吧，回去的路上别跟我说话，我最好还是把嘴闭上。”海格说。
　
　　又乘小车狂奔了一通之后，他们终于站在了吉灵阁外边阳光耀眼的街上了。哈利背着满满的一口袋钱，不知道先去哪里好。他用不着去计算一英镑合多少加隆，他知道他一辈子也没有过这么多钱，甚至达力也从来没有过。
　
　　“咱们还是先去给你买制服吧。”海格用头指着摩金夫人长袍专卖店说道，“哈利，我想去破釜酒吧喝上一杯提神饮料，你不介意吧？古灵阁那小推车太可恨了。”他看上去脸色确实还不好，所以哈利独自踏进了摩金夫人的长袍店，觉得很紧张。
　
　　摩金夫人是一个矮矮胖胖的女巫，笑容可掬，穿着一身紫衣。“是要买霍格沃茨学校的制服吗，亲爱的？”不等哈利开口说话，她就说了。“我们这里多得很，说实在的，现在就有一个年轻人在里边试衣服呢。”
　
　　在店堂后边有一个面色苍白、瘦削的年轻人站在脚凳上，一个女巫正用别针别起他的黑袍。摩金夫人让哈利站到年轻人旁边的另一张脚凳上，给他套上一件长袍，用别针别出适合他的身长。
　
　　“喂，”男孩说，“也是去上霍格沃茨吗？”
　
　　“是的。”哈利说。
　
　　“我爸爸在隔壁帮我买书，妈妈到街上找魔杖去了。”他说话慢慢吞吞，拖着长腔，叫人讨厌。“然后我要拖他们去看飞天扫帚，我搞不懂为什么一年级新生就不能有自己的飞天扫帚。我想，我要逼着爸爸给我买一把，然后想办法偷偷带进去。”
　
　　这使哈利立刻联想起达力。
　
　　“你有自己的飞天扫帚吗？”男孩继续说。
　
　　“没有。”哈利说。
　
　　“打过魁地奇吗？”
　
　　“没有。”哈利又说，弄不清魁地奇到底是什么。
　
　　“我打过。爸爸说，要是我没有被选入我们学院的代表队，那就太丢人了。我要说，我同意这种看法。你知道你被分到哪个学院了吗？”
　
　　“不知道。”哈利说，越来越觉得自己太笨了。
　
　　“当然，在没有到校之前没有人真正知道会被分到哪个学院。不过，我知道我会被分到斯莱特林，因为我们全家都是从那里毕业的。如果被分到赫奇帕奇，我想我会退学，你说呢？”
　
　　哈利嗯了一声，希望他能说点更有趣的话题。
　
　　“喂，你瞧那个人！”男孩突然朝前面的窗户点头说。
　
　　海格正好站在窗口，朝哈利咧嘴笑着并指了指两个大冰淇淋，说明他不能进店。
　
　　“那是海格。”哈利说，能知道一些男孩不知道的事，觉得很开心。“他在霍格沃茨工作。”
　
　　“哦，”男孩说，“我听说过他。他是做仆人的，是吧？”
　
　　“他是狩猎场的看守。”哈利说。他越来越不喜欢这个男孩了。
　
　　“对，一点不错。我听说，这个人很粗野，住在校园里的一间小木屋里，时不时地喝醉酒，玩弄些法术，结果把自己的床也烧了。”
　
　　“我认为他很聪明。”哈利冷冷地说。
　
　　“是吗？”男孩略带嘲弄的意味说，“为什么他来陪你，你的父母呢？”
　
　　“他们都去世了。”哈利简单地说，不想跟这个男孩谈论这件事。
　
　　“哦，对不起。”男孩说，可他的话里听不出丝毫歉意。“他们也是跟我们一类的人，是吧？”
　
　　“他们是男女巫师，我想你大概是指这个吧。”
　
　　“我确实认为他们不应该让另类入学，你说呢？他们不一样，他们从小就没有接受过我们这样的教育，不了解我们的世界。想想看，他们当中有些人在没有接到信之前甚至没听说过霍格沃茨这个学校。我想学校应当只限于招收古老巫术家族出身的学生。对了，你姓什么？”
　
　　哈利还没来得及回答，只听摩金夫人说：“已经试好了，亲爱的。”
　
　　哈利庆幸自己能找到借口不再跟那男孩聊下去，便从脚凳上跳下来。
　
　　“好，那么我们就到霍格沃茨再见了。”男孩拖长声调说。
　
　　哈利在吃海格买给他的冰淇淋（巧克力加覆盆子和碎果仁冰淇淋）时一直不吭声。
　
　　“怎么了？”海格问。
　
　　“没什么。”哈利撒谎了。
　
　　他们停下来买羊皮纸和鹅毛笔。哈利发现了一瓶写字时会变色的墨水，心情便好了起来。当他们走出店铺时，哈利问：“海格，什么是魁地奇？”
　
　　“哎呀，我的天哪，哈利，我忘记你知道得太少了，竟然连什么是魁地奇都不知道。”
　
　　“劳驾，别让我的情绪变得更坏好不好？”他向海格说起在摩金夫人店里碰到的那个面色苍白的男孩。“……他还说甚至不应该准许麻瓜家庭出身的人入学
……”
　
　　“你又不是麻瓜家庭出来的。如果他父母是男女巫师——你在破釜酒吧就已经看到了——那么他就该是听着你的名字长大的。其实，他又知道多少，我看见许多最优秀的巫师都是出自麻瓜家庭里惟一懂法术的人——看看你母亲！看看她有一个什么样的姐姐！”
　
　　“那魁地奇到底是什么呢？”
　
　　“那是我们的一种运动，一种巫师们玩的球类运动。它像——麻瓜世界的足球——人人都喜欢玩魁地奇——骑飞天扫帚在空中打，有四个球——至于玩球的规则嘛，解释起来还真有点儿困难。”
　
　　“那么斯莱特林和赫奇帕奇又是什么呢？”
　
　　“那是学院的名字。学校一共有四个学院。都说赫奇帕奇有许多饭桶，不过
……”
　
　　“我想，我一定会被分到赫奇帕奇了。”哈利怏怏不乐地说。
　
　　“宁愿进赫奇帕奇，也不要进斯莱特林。”海格脸色阴沉地说，“没有一个后来变坏的男女巫师不是从斯莱特林出来的，神秘人就是其中的一个。”
　
　　“伏……对不起……神秘人也在霍格沃茨上过学？”
　
　　“很多很多年以前了。”海格说。
　
　　他们在一家名叫丽痕的书店里买了哈利上学要用的课本。这里的书架上摆满了书，一直到天花板上，有大到像铺路石板的皮面精装书；也有邮票大小的绢面书；有的书里写满了各种奇特的符号，还有少数则是无字书。即使从来不读书的达力要是有幸能得到其中的一两本，也一定会欣喜若狂的。哈利拿起一本温迪克教授著的《诅咒与反诅咒》（用最新的复仇术捉弄你的朋友，蛊惑你的敌人：脱发、打折腿、绑舌头及其他许许多多手法），海格好不容易才把哈利从这本书前拖开。
　
　　“我想找出办法来诅咒达力。”
　
　　“这主意不坏，但你不能在麻瓜世界使用魔法，除非在很特殊的情况下。”海格说，“不过，你现在用不上那些咒语，你还需要学习很多东西，才能达到那个水平。”
　
　　海格也不让哈利买一只纯金锅（购物单上开的是锡镀锅），不过他们买了一台计量药品的质量很好的天平和一架可折叠的黄铜望远镜。随后他们光顾了一家药店，那里散发出一股臭鸡蛋和烂卷心菜叶的刺鼻气味。但药店却十分神奇，地上放着一桶桶黏糊糊的东西，顺墙摆着一罐罐药草、干草根和颜色鲜亮的各种粉末，天花板上挂着成捆的羽毛、成串的尖牙和毛爹爹的爪子。当海格向柜台后边的营业员买一份标准剂量的各种药粉时，哈利正在细看一个用独角野牛角制成的号角，每个价值二十一加隆，以及乌黑、亮闪闪的甲虫小眼珠（五纳特一勺）。
　
　　他们走出药店后，海格又核对了一遍哈利的购物单。
　
　　“就剩下你的魔杖了……哦，对了，我还没给你买一份生日礼物呢。”
　
　　哈利觉得自己脸红了。
　
　　“您不必了……”
　
　　“我知道不用买。是这样，我要送你一只动物，不是蟾蜍，蟾蜍好多年前就不时兴了，人家会笑话你的。我也不喜欢猫，猫总惹我打喷嚏。我给你弄一只猫头鹰。孩子们都喜欢猫头鹰，它能替你送信，送包裹。”
　
　　二十分钟后，他们离开了黑洞洞的咿啦猫头鹰商店，离开了噗噗的拍翅声和宝石般闪光的眼睛，哈利这时手里提着一只大鸟笼，里边装着一只漂亮的雪枭，头埋在翅膀底下睡得正香。哈利忍不住结结巴巴地一再道谢，听起来像奇洛教授在说话。
　
　　“不用谢，”海格声音沙哑地说，“德思礼夫妇是不会送给你礼物的。现在就剩下奥利凡德没去了，只有奥利凡德一家卖魔杖，到那里你一定能买到一根最好的魔杖。”
　
　　魔杖——这正是哈利梦寐以求的。
　
　　最后一家商店又小又破，门上的金字招牌已经剥落，上边写着：奥利凡德：自公元前三百八十二年即制作精良魔杖。尘封的橱窗里，褪色的紫色软垫上孤零零地摆着一根魔杖。
　
　　他们进店时，店堂后边的什么地方传来了阵阵叮叮当当的铃声。店堂很小，除了一张长椅之外，别的什么也没有。海格坐到长椅上等候，哈利有一种奇怪的感觉，仿佛来到了一家管理严格的图书馆。他强压住脑海里刚刚产生的许许多多新问题，开始看几乎码到天花板的几千个狭长的纸盒。不知为什么，他突然感到心里发毛。这里的尘埃和肃静似乎都使人感到暗藏着神秘的魔法。
　
　　“下午好。”一个轻柔的声音说，把哈利吓了一跳。海格也吓得不轻，因为这时突然传来一阵响亮的咔嚓咔嚓的声音，他连忙从长椅上站起来。
　
　　一个老头站在他们面前，他那对颜色很浅的大眼睛在暗淡的店铺里像两轮闪亮的月亮。
　
　　“你好。”哈利拘谨地说。
　
　　“哦，是的，”老头说，“是的，是的，我知道我很快就会见到你，哈利波特，这不成问题。你的眼睛跟你母亲的一样。当年她到这里来买走她的第一根魔杖，这简直像昨天的事。十又四分之一英寸长，柳条做的，挥起来飕飕响，是一根施魔法的好魔杖。”
　
　　奥利凡德先生走到哈利跟前，哈利希望他能眨眨眼，他那对银白色的眼睛使哈利汗毛直竖。
　
　　“你父亲就不一样了，他喜欢桃花心木魔杖。十一英寸长，柔韧，力量更强些，用于变形术是最好不过了。我说你父亲喜欢它——实际上，当然是魔杖在选择它的巫师呢。”
　
　　奥利凡德先生凑得离哈利越来越近，鼻子都要贴到哈利脸上了。哈利已经看到老头混浊的眼睛里映出了自己的影子。“哦，这就是……”奥利凡德先生用苍白的长手指抚摸着哈利额上那道闪电形的伤疤。
　
　　“很对不起，这是我卖出的一根魔杖干的。”他柔声细语说，“十三英寸半长，紫杉木的。力量很强，强极了，却落到了坏人手里……要是早知道这根魔杖做成后，会做出这样的事……”
　
　　他摇摇头，接着一眼认出了海格，这使哈利松了一口气。
　
　　“鲁伯！鲁伯海格！又见到您了，真是太高兴啦……橡木的，十六英寸长，有点儿弯，对吧？”
　
　　“不错，先生。”海格说。
　
　　“那可是一根很好的魔杖啊。可我想，他们在开除你的时候，准被他们撅折了吧？”奥利凡德先生说，突然变得严肃起来。
　
　　“啊，不错，是被他们撅折了，是的。”海格慢慢地移动着脚步说道。“撅折的魔杖我还留着呢。”他又高兴地说。
　
　　“可你不用它了吧？”奥利凡德先生急忙问。
　
　　“哦，不用了，先生。”海格忙回答。
　
　　哈利注意到海格在回答时紧紧抓住了那柄粉红伞。
　
　　“唔……”奥利凡德先生说着，用锐利的目光扫了他一眼。“好了，波特先生，来吧。让我看看。”他从衣袋里掏出一长条印有银色刻度的卷尺。“你用哪只胳膊使魔杖？”
　
　　“哦……哦，我习惯用右手。”哈利说。
　
　　“把胳膊抬起来。好。”他为哈利量尺寸，先从肩头到指尖，之后，又从腕到肘，肩到地板，膝到腋下，最后量头围。他一边量，一边说：“每一根奥利凡德魔杖都具有超强的魔法物质，这也就是它的精髓所在，波特先生。我们用的是独角兽毛、凤凰尾羽和龙的神经。每一根奥利凡德魔杖都是独一无二的，因为没有两只完全相同的独角兽、龙或凤凰。当然，你如果用了本应属于其他巫师的魔杖，就绝不会有这样好的效果了。”
　
　　当量到两鼻孔间的距离时，哈利突然发现竟是卷尺在自动操作。奥利凡德先生正在货架间穿梭，忙着选出一些长匣子往下搬。
　
　　“好了。”他说，卷尺滑落到地上卷成一团。“那么，波特先生，试试这一根。山毛榉木和蛇神经做的，九英寸长。不错，很柔韧。你挥一下试试。”
　
　　哈利接过魔杖（心里觉得有点冒傻气），他刚挥了一下，奥利凡德先生就立刻把魔杖从他手里夺了过去。“槭木的，凤凰羽毛，七英寸长，弹性不错，试试看……”哈利刚要试，可还没来得及举起来，魔杖就又被奥利凡德先生夺走了。“不，不……试试这根，用黑檀木和独角兽毛做的，八英寸半长，弹性很强。来吧，来吧，试试这根。”
　
　　哈利试了一根又一根。他一点也不明白奥利凡德先生认为什么样的才合适。试过的魔杖都堆放在长椅上，越堆越高。但奥利凡德先生从货架上抽出的魔杖越多，他似乎显得越高兴。
　
　　“一位挑剔的顾客吧，嗯？不要紧，我想，这里总能找到一款最理想，最完美，最适合你的……让我想想看……哦，有了，怎么会没有呢……非凡的组合，冬青木，凤凰羽毛，十一英寸长。不错，也柔韧。”
　
　　哈利接过魔杖，感到指尖突然一热。他把魔杖高举过头顶，飕的一声向下一挥，划过尘土飞扬的空气，只见一道红光，魔杖头上像烟花一样金星四射，跳动的光斑投到四壁上。
　
　　海格拍手喝彩，奥利凡德先生大声喊起来：“哦，好极了，哦，真的，太好了。哎呀，哎呀，哎呀……太奇妙了……真是太奇妙了……”
　
　　他把哈利的魔杖装到匣子里，用棕色纸包好，嘴里还不停地说：“奇妙……奇妙……”
　
　　“对不起，”哈利说，“什么地方让您觉得奇妙？”
　
　　奥利凡德先生用苍白无色的眼睛注视着哈利。
　
　　“我卖出的每根魔杖我都记得，波特先生。每根魔杖我都记得。是这样，同一只凤凰的两根尾羽，一根做了这根魔杖，另一根尾羽做了另外一根魔杖。你注定要用这根魔杖，而它的兄弟……咳，正是它的兄弟给你落下了那道伤疤。”
　
　　哈利倒抽了一口气。
　
　　“不错，十三英寸半长，紫杉木的。怎么会有这样的事，真是太奇妙了。记住，是魔杖选择巫师……我想，你会成就一番大事业的，波特先生……不管怎么说，我不能提名的那个神秘人就做了大事……尽管可怕，但还是大事。”
　
　　哈利顿感毛骨悚然。他不敢肯定自己是否喜欢这位奥利凡德先生了。他付给奥利凡德先生七个加隆买下魔杖，奥利凡德先生鞠躬把他们送出店门。
　
　　傍晚，哈利和海格踏上回对角巷的路时，太阳已快下山了。他们穿过墙，经过已空无一人的破釜酒吧，走上大路。一路上，哈利一言不发，在地铁上他甚至没有留意他们提着大大小小、奇形怪状的包裹。他怀里还抱着一只熟睡的雪枭，这招来了不少好奇的目光。他们乘另一部自动扶梯，来到帕丁顿车站。海格拍拍哈利的肩膀，哈利这才猛地意识到他们在什么地方了。
　
　　“开车前，我们还有时间吃点儿东西。”他说。
　
　　他给哈利买了个汉堡，他们就坐在塑料椅上吃起来。哈利一直在东张西望，不管怎么说，总觉得周围的一切都很奇怪。
　
　　“你没什么吧，哈利？你一句话也不说。”海格说。
　
　　哈利不知道自己能不能讲清楚。他刚刚过了一个生平最好的生日，可是……他嚼着汉堡，一边寻思该怎么说。
　
　　“人人都觉得我很特别，”他终于说，“破釜酒吧的那些人、奇洛教授、奥利凡德先生……可是我对魔法一窍不通。他们怎么能期望我成就大事呢？我有名气，可那些让我出名的事，我甚至一点儿也不记得了。在伏……对不起……我是说，我父母去世的那天夜里，我根本不知道发生了什么事。”
　
　　海格隔着桌子探过身来。他那蓬乱的胡须和眉毛下边露出慈祥的微笑。
　
　　“别担心，哈利。你很快就会学会的。在霍格沃茨，人人都是从基础开始学的。你会很好的。打起精神来。我知道这对于你很难。你一直孤零零一个人，总是很难过的。不过你在霍格沃茨一定会很愉快，像我……说实话……过去和现在都很愉快。”
　
　　海格把哈利送上可以回德思礼家的火车，然后递给他一封信。
　
　　“这是你去霍格沃茨的车票。”他说，“九月一日——国王十字车站——票上都有。德思礼夫妇要是欺负你，就写封信让猫头鹰给我送来，它知道到什么地方去找我……下次再见了，哈利。”
　
　　火车驶出了车站。哈利想目送海格离去，他跪到座位上，鼻子紧贴着车窗，一眨眼工夫，海格就不见了。
　

　
　　①指男女巫师乘骑的扫帚。

　

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举报只看该作者 5楼发表于: 2013-10-23 0

　　CHAPTER SIX
　　THE JOURNEY FROM PLATFORM NINE AND THREE-QUARTERS
　　Harry's last month with the Dursleys wasn't fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of Harry he wouldn't stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't shut Harry in his cupboard, force him to do anything, or shout at him -- in fact, they didn't speak to him at all. Half terrified, half furious, they acted as though any chair with Harry in it were empty. Although this was an improvement in many ways, it did become a bit depressing after a while.
　　Harry kept to his room, with his new owl for company. He had decided to call her Hedwig, a name he had found in A History of Magic. His school books were very interesting. He lay on his bed reading late into the night, Hedwig swooping in and out of the open window as she pleased. It was lucky that Aunt Petunia didn't come in to vacuum anymore, because Hedwig kept bringing back dead mice. Every night before he went to sleep, Harry ticked off another day on the piece of paper he had pinned to the wall, counting down to September the first.
　　On the last day of August he thought he'd better speak to his aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross station the next day, so he went down to the living room where they were watching a quiz show on television. He cleared his throat to let them know he was there, and Dudley screamed and ran from the room.
　　"Er -- Uncle Vernon?"
　　Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.
　　"Er -- I need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to -- to go to Hogwarts."
　　Uncle Vernon grunted again.
　　"Would it be all right if you gave me a lift?"
　　Grunt. Harry supposed that meant yes.
　　"Thank you."
　　He was about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.
　　"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"
　　Harry didn't say anything.
　　"Where is this school, anyway?"
　　"I don't know," said Harry, realizing this for the first time. He pulled the ticket Hagrid had given him out of his pocket.
　　"I just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock," he read.
　　His aunt and uncle stared.
　　"Platform what?"
　　"Nine and three-quarters."
　　"Don't talk rubbish," said Uncle Vernon. "There is no platform nine and three-quarters."
　　"It's on my ticket."
　　"Barking," said Uncle Vernon, "howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother."
　　"Why are you going to London?" Harry asked, trying to keep things friendly.
　　"Taking Dudley to the hospital," growled Uncle Vernon. "Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."
　　Harry woke at five o'clock the next morning and was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. He got up and pulled on his jeans because he didn't want to walk into the station in his wizard's robes -- he'd change on the train. He checked his Hogwarts list yet again to make sure he had everything he needed, saw that Hedwig was shut safely in her cage, and then paced the room, waiting for the Dursleys to get up. Two hours later, Harry's huge, heavy trunk had been loaded into the Dursleys' car, Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley into sitting next to Harry, and they had set off.
　　They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped Harry's trunk onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for him. Harry thought this was strangely kind until Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.
　　"Well, there you are, boy. Platform nine -- platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"
　　He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.
　　"Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word. Harry turned and saw the Dursleys drive away. All three of them were laughing. Harry's mouth went rather dry. What on earth was he going to do? He was starting to attract a lot of funny looks, because of Hedwig. He'd have to ask someone.
　　He stopped a passing guard, but didn't dare mention platform nine and three-quarters. The guard had never heard of Hogwarts and when Harry couldn't even tell him what part of the country it was in, he started to get annoyed, as though Harry was being stupid on purpose. Getting desperate, Harry asked for the train that left at eleven o'clock, but the guard said there wasn't one. In the end the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters. Harry was now trying hard not to panic. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, he had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and he had no idea how to do it; he was stranded in the middle of a station with a trunk he could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and a large owl.
　　Hagrid must have forgotten to tell him something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. He wondered if he should get out his wand and start tapping the ticket inspector's stand between platforms nine and ten.
　　At that moment a group of people passed just behind him and he caught a few words of what they were saying.
　　"-- packed with Muggles, of course --"
　　Harry swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry's in front of him -- and they had an owl.
　　Heart hammering, Harry pushed his cart after them. They stopped and so did he, just near enough to hear what they were saying.
　　"Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.
　　"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, "Mom, can't I go... "
　　"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."
　　What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. Harry watched, careful not to blink in case he missed it -- but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.
　　"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.
　　"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? CarA you tell I'm George?"
　　"Sorry, George, dear."
　　"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone -- but how had he done it?
　　Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier he was almost there -- and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.
　　There was nothing else for it.
　　"Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman.
　　"Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."
　　She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.
　　"Yes," said Harry. "The thing is -- the thing is, I don't know how to --"
　　"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and Harry nodded.
　　"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."
　　"Er -- okay," said Harry.
　　He pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.
　　He started to walk toward it. People jostled him on their way to platforms nine and ten. Harry walked more quickly. He was going to smash right into that barrier and then he'd be in trouble -- leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy run -- the barrier was coming nearer and nearer -- he wouldn't be able to stop -- the cart was out of control -- he was a foot away -- he closed his eyes ready for the crash --
　　It didn't come... he kept on running... he opened his eyes. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven O'clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it, He had done it.
　　Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.
　　The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry pushed his cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. He passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."
　　"Oh, Neville," he heard the old woman sigh.
　　A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.
　　"Give us a look, Lee, go on."
　　The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.
　　Harry pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk toward the train door. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot.
　　"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins he'd followed through the barrier.
　　"Yes, please," Harry panted.
　　"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"
　　With the twins' help, Harry's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.
　　"Thanks," said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.
　　"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightning scar.
　　"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you
　　"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry.
　　"What?" said Harry.
　　"Harry Potter, "chorused the twins.
　　"Oh, him," said Harry. "I mean, yes, I am."
　　The two boys gawked at him, and Harry felt himself turning red. Then, to his relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.
　　"Fred? George? Are you there?"
　　"Coming, Mom."
　　With a last look at Harry, the twins hopped off the train.
　　Harry sat down next to the window where, half hidden, he could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.
　　"Ron, you've got something on your nose."
　　The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose.
　　"Mom -- geroff" He wriggled free.
　　"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said one of the twins.
　　"Shut up," said Ron.
　　"Where's Percy?" said their mother.
　　"He's coming now."
　　The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Harry noticed a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter P on it.
　　"Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves --"
　　"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."
　　"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once --"
　　"Or twice --"
　　"A minute --"
　　"All summer --"
　　"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect.
　　"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins.
　　"Because he's a prefect," said their mother fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term -- send me an owl when you get there."
　　She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins.
　　"Now, you two -- this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've -- you've blown up a toilet or --"
　　"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."
　　"Great idea though, thanks, Mom."
　　"It's not funny. And look after Ron."
　　"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."
　　"Shut up," said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.
　　"Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"
　　Harry leaned back quickly so they couldn't see him looking.
　　"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"
　　"Who?"
　　"Harry Potter!"
　　Harry heard the little girl's voice.
　　"Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see him, Mom, eh please...."
　　"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?"
　　"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there - like lightning."
　　"Poor dear - no wonder he was alone, I wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform."
　　"Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"
　　Their mother suddenly became very stern.
　　"I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school."
　　"All right, keep your hair on."
　　A whistle sounded.
　　"Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry.
　　"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."
　　"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."
　　"George!"
　　"Only joking, Mom."
　　The train began to move. Harry saw the boys' mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved.
　　Harry watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Harry felt a great leap of excitement. He didn't know what he was going to but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind.
　　The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy came in.
　　"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full."
　　Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn't looked. Harry saw he still had a black mark on his nose.
　　"Hey, Ron."
　　The twins were back.
　　"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train -- Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."
　　"Right," mumbled Ron.
　　"Harry," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then.
　　"Bye," said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.
　　"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.
　　Harry nodded.
　　"Oh -well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got -- you know..."
　　He pointed at Harry's forehead.
　　Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared.
　　"So that's where You-Know-Who
　　"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."
　　"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.
　　 "Well -- I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."
　　"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.
　　"Are all your family wizards?" asked Harry, who found Ron just as interesting as Ron found him.
　　"Er -- Yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."
　　"So you must know loads of magic already."
　　The Weasleys were clearly one of those old wizarding families the pale boy in Diagon Alley had talked about.
　　"I heard you went to live with Muggles," said Ron. "What are they like?"
　　"Horrible -well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."
　　"Five," said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left -- Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."
　　Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep.
　　"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff -- I mean, I got Scabbers instead."
　　Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window.
　　Harry didn't think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl. After all, he'd never had any money in his life until a month ago, and he told Ron so, all about having to wear Dudley's old clothes and never getting proper birthday presents. This seemed to cheer Ron up.
　　"... and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about be ing a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort"
　　Ron gasped.
　　"What?" said Harry.
　　"You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people --"
　　"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," said Harry, I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn.... I bet," he added, voicing for the first time something that had been worrying him a lot lately, "I bet I'm the worst in the class."
　　"You won't be. There's loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough."
　　While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.
　　Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"
　　Harry, who hadn't had any breakfast, leapt to his feet, but Ron's ears went pink again and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Harry went out into the corridor.
　　He had never had any money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that he had pockets rattling with gold and silver he was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as he could carry -- but the woman didn't have Mars Bars. What she did have were Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs. Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harry had never seen in his life. Not wanting to miss anything, he got some of everything and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.
　　Ron stared as Harry brought it all back in to the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.
　　"Hungry, are you?"
　　"Starving," said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty.
　　Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."
　　"Swap you for one of these," said Harry, holding up a pasty. "Go on --"
　　"You don't want this, it's all dry," said Ron. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with five of us."
　　"Go on, have a pasty," said Harry, who had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ron, eating their way through all Harry's pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten).
　　"What are these?" Harry asked Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not really frogs, are they?" He was starting to feel that nothing would surprise him.
　　"No," said Ron. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."
　　"What?"
　　"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know -- Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect -- famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."
　　Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half- moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.
　　"So this is Dumbledore!" said Harry.
　　"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa -- thanks
　　Harry turned over his card and read:
　　ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
　　CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS
　　Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.
　　Harry turned the card back over and saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.
　　"He's gone!"
　　"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her... do you want it? You can start collecting."
　　Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.
　　"Help yourself," said Harry. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos."
　　"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. "weird!"
　　Harry stared as Dumbledore sidled back into the picture on his card and gave him a small smile. Ron was more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards, but Harry couldn't keep his eyes off them. Soon he had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. He finally tore his eyes away from the druidess Cliodna, who was scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.
　　"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Harry. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor -- you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and mar- malade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger- flavored one once."
　　Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.
　　"Bleaaargh -- see? Sprouts."
　　They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Harry got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny gray one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper.
　　The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.
　　There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Harry had passed on platform nine and threequarters came in. He looked tearful.
　　"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"
　　When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"
　　"He'll turn up," said Harry.
　　"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him..."
　　He left.
　　"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."
　　The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.
　　"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..."
　　He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.
　　"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway
　　He had just raised his 'wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.
　　"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.
　　"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.
　　"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."
　　She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.
　　"Er -- all right."
　　He cleared his throat.
　　"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."
　　He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.
　　"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard -- I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough -- I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you.
　　She said all this very fast.
　　Harry looked at Ron, and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either.
　　"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.
　　"Harry Potter," said Harry.
　　"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course -- I got a few extra books. for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.
　　"Am I?" said Harry, feeling dazed.
　　"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad.... Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."
　　And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.
　　"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell -- George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."
　　"What house are your brothers in?" asked Harry.
　　"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."
　　"That's the house Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"
　　"Yeah," said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.
　　"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers' whiskers are a bit lighter," said Harry, trying to take Ron's mind off houses. "So what do your oldest brothers do now that they've left, anyway?"
　　Harry was wondering what a wizard did once he'd finished school.
　　"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," said Ron. "Did you hear about
　　Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles -- someone tried to rob a high security vault."
　　Harry stared.
　　"Really? What happened to them?"
　　"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."
　　Harry turned this news over in his mind. He was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You- Know-Who was mentioned. He supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comfortable saying "Voldemort" without worrying.
　　"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked.
　　"Er -- I don't know any," Harry confessed.
　　"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world --" And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. He was just taking Harry through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time.
　　Three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley.
　　"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
　　"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.
　　"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."
　　Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigget. Draco Malfoy looked at him.
　　"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."
　　He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
　　He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.
　　"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.
　　Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.
　　"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."
　　Both Harry and Ron stood up.
　　"Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair.
　　"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.
　　"Unless you get out now," said Harry, more bravely than he felt, because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than him or Ron.
　　"But we don't feet like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."
　　Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron - Ron leapt forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.
　　Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle - Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbets finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once. Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they'd heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in.
　　"What has been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.
　　I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to Harry. He looked closer at Scabbers. "No -- I don't believe it -- he's gone back to sleep-"
　　And so he had.
　　"You've met Malfoy before?"
　　Harry explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley.
　　"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"
　　"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"
　　"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," said Ron, scowling at her. "Would you mind leaving while we change?"
　　"All right -- I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"
　　Ron glared at her as she left. Harry peered out of the window. It was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.
　　He and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Ron's were a bit short for him, you could see his sneakers underneath them.
　　A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."
　　Harry's stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, he saw, looked pale under his freckles. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.
　　The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"
　　Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.
　　"C'mon, follow me -- any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"
　　Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.
　　"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."
　　There was a loud "Oooooh!"
　　The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.
　　"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron were followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then -- FORWARD!"
　　And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.
　　"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.
　　"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.
　　"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.
　　 They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, Oak front door.
　　"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"
　　Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

第六章　从9又3/4站台开始的旅程
　
　

　
　　哈利与德思礼一家相处的最后一个月并不愉快。说真的，达力着实被哈利吓坏了，他不敢跟哈利待在同一个房间里，佩妮姨妈和弗农姨父也不敢再把哈利关在碗柜里，也不强迫他干活儿了，也不再朝他大喊大叫——事实上，他们根本不跟他讲话。一半出于恐惧，一半由于恼怒，他们对哈利的存在视而不见。尽管这在许多方面是一个进步，但时间一久就使人感到有些没趣。
　
　　哈利大多时间都待在他的房间里，有他新买的猫头鹰做伴。他决定管它叫海德薇，这是他从《魔法史》这本书里找到的名字。他的学校课本都很有趣。他躺在床上，一读就到深夜，海德薇从打开的窗口尽情地飞进飞出。幸运的是佩妮姨妈不再到房间里来吸尘了，因为海德薇总是叼死耗子回来。哈利把九月一日以前每天的日期一天一天写在一张纸上，钉在墙上，每天临睡前就在第二天的日期上打一个钩。
　
　　八月的最后一天，哈利觉得最好还是跟姨父姨妈谈谈明天去国王十字车站的事，于是他下楼来到起居室，姨父姨妈正在看竞猜电视节目。他清了一下嗓子，好让他们知道他来了；达力尖叫着跑出屋去。
　
　　“哦……弗农姨父？”
　
　　弗农姨父哼了一声，表示他在听。
　
　　“哦……我明天得去国王十字车站……去霍格沃茨。”
　
　　弗农姨父又哼了一声。
　
　　“请问您用车送我一下行吗？”
　
　　“哼。”
　
　　哈利认为这就是表示可以。
　
　　“谢谢您。”
　
　　他刚要回到楼上去，弗农姨父却真的开口说话了：“坐火车去巫师学校未免太可笑了。他们的魔毯全都破光了吗？”
　
　　哈利没吭声。
　
　　“这所学校到底在什么地方？你说。”
　
　　“我不知道。”哈利说，刚刚才想到这一点。他从衣袋里掏出海格给他的火车票。“我应该坐十一点钟从9又3/4站台开出的火车。”他读道。
　
　　他姨父姨妈瞪大了眼睛，“第几站台？”
　
　　“9又3/4站台。”
　
　　“别胡说八道了，”弗农姨父说，“根本没有9又3/4站台。”
　
　　“我的火车票上就是这么写的。”
　
　　“胡说，”弗农姨父说，“他们好多人都疯了，到处乱咋呼。你会明白的。你等着瞧吧。好了，我们送你去国王十字车站。反正我们明天要去伦敦，要不然我才不去找麻烦呢。”
　
　　“您上伦敦做什么？”哈利问，希望保持友好气氛。
　
　　“带达力上医院，”弗农姨父咆哮起来，“在他上斯梅廷之前把那条可恶的尾巴割掉。”
　
　　第二天，哈利早上五点就醒来了。他又兴奋又紧张，再也睡不着了。他从床上爬起来，穿上牛仔裤，因为他不愿穿巫师长袍进火车站——他准备上车再换。他又核对了一遍霍格沃茨开列的购物单，看需要的东西是否都买齐了，再看看海德薇是不是好好地关在笼子里，之后就在房间里踱步，等候德思礼夫妇起床。两小时后，哈利沉重的大箱子终于被抬上了德思礼家的汽车，佩妮姨妈说服达力坐到哈利身边，他们就上路了。
　
　　他们十点半钟来到国王十字车站。弗农姨父把哈利的皮箱放到手椎车上．帮他推进站。哈利正在琢磨弗农姨父为什么一下子变得出奇地好，弗农姨父突然面对站台停下来不走了，心怀鬼胎地咧嘴一笑。
　
　　“好了，你到了，小子。第9站台——第10站台。你的站台应该是在这两个站台之间吧，可看起来好像还没来得及修建呢，是吧？”
　
　　当然，他说得不错。在一个站台上挂着一块大大的9字塑料牌，另一个站台上挂着大大的10字塑料牌，而两者中间什么也没有。
　
　　“祝你学期顺利，”弗农姨父说着又咧嘴一笑，显得更没有好心。他没有再说什么就走开了。哈利转身眼看弗农一家开车离去。他们三个人都在哈哈大笑。哈利觉得嘴有点儿发干。他究竟该怎么办呢？因为海德薇，他已经招来许多好奇的目光。他得找人问问。
　
　　他拦住一个过路的警卫，但不敢提起9又3/4站台。警卫从来没听说过霍格沃茨。当他发现哈利甚至说不清霍格沃茨具体在什么地方时，他开始生气了，认为哈利在故意装傻愚弄他。哈利实在没辙了，只好问十一点发出的列车有几班。警卫说一班也没有。最后警卫迈着大步走开了，一路抱怨有些人专门浪费别人的时间。这时哈利告诫自己尽量不要惊慌失措。到达列车时刻表上方的大钟显示，再过十分钟他就该登上开往霍格沃茨的列车了，可他一点也不知道该怎么办。他身边是一只他简直提不动的大箱子，满满一口袋魔币和一只大猫头鹰，他站在站台中央，一筹莫展。
　
　　一定是海格忘记告诉他诸如敲左边第三块砖就可以到达对角巷之类的事了。他在想要不要拿出魔杖来敲第9和第10站台之间的检票口。
　
　　正在这时，一群人从他背后经过，偶尔一两句话飘进他的耳朵里。
　
　　“……当然挤满了麻瓜们……”
　
　　哈利连忙转身，只见说话的是一个矮矮胖胖的女人，正在跟四个火红头发的男孩说话。他们每人都推着像哈利那样的皮箱——他们也有一只猫头鹰。
　
　　哈利的心怦怦直跳，连忙推着车紧跟着他们。他们停下来，他也跟着停在离他们不远的地方，以便能听见他们说话。
　
　　“好了，是几号站台？”孩子们的母亲问。
　
　　“9！”一个火红头发的小姑娘牵着妈妈的手，尖着嗓子大声说，“妈妈，我能去吗？”
　
　　“你还太小，金妮，现在，别说话了。珀西，你走在最前头。”
　
　　看上去年龄最大的那个男孩朝第9和第10站台中间走去。哈利目不转睛地盯着他，连眼也不敢眨，生怕漏掉了什么……
　
　　但正当那孩子走到第9与第10站台交界的地方时，一大群旅客突然拥到哈利前面，等最后一只大帆布背包挪开时，那孩子竟然不见了。
　
　　“弗雷德，该你了。”胖女人说。
　
　　“我不是弗雷德，我是乔治。”那孩子说，“说实在的，您说您是我们的母亲，可为什么您认不出我是乔治呢？”
　
　　“对不起，乔治，亲爱的。”
　
　　“开个玩笑，我是弗雷德。”这孩子说完就朝前走了。他的孪生兄弟在背后催他快点。他想必听了他的话，因为他一转眼就不见了——可他是怎么做的呢？这时第三个兄弟迈着轻快的步子朝检票口走去——他刚要走到——突然，也不见了。
　
　　没有别的办法。
　
　　“对不起。”哈利对胖女人说。
　
　　“喂，亲爱的，”她说，“头一回上霍格沃茨吧？罗恩也是新生。”她指着最后、也是她最小的儿子说。
　
　　这孩子又瘦又高，显得笨手笨脚，满脸雀斑，大手、大脚、长鼻子。
　
　　“是的，”哈利说，“问题是——问题是我不知道该怎么去——”
　
　　“该怎么去站台是吗？”她善解人意地说，哈利点点头。
　
　　“别担心，”她说，“你只要照直朝着第9和第10站台之间的检票口走就是了。别停下来，别害怕，照直往里冲，这很重要。要是你心里紧张，你就一溜小跑。走吧。你先走，罗恩跟着你。”
　
　　“哦——好吧。”哈利说。
　
　　他把小车掉过头，眼睛拼命盯着检票口，那地方的栏杆看起来还很结实呢。
　
　　他开始向检票口走去，一路上被拥向9和10站台的旅客推来搡去。哈利加快脚步，准备直接冲进票亭，但是他遇到了麻烦——他弯腰趴在手推车上，向前猛冲——眼看离栏杆越来越近，仅一步之遥——他已无法停步——手推车也失去了控制——他闭上眼睛准备撞上去——但什么事也没有发生……
　
　　他继续朝前跑……
　
　　他睁开眼睛。一辆深红色蒸汽机车停靠在挤满旅客的站台旁。列车上挂的标牌写着：霍格沃茨特快，十一时。
　
　　哈利回头一看，原来检票口的地方现在竟成了一条锻铁拱道，上边写着：9又3/4站台。他成功了。
　
　　蒸汽机车的浓烟在嘁嘁喳喳的人群上空缭绕，各种花色的猫咪在人们脚下穿来穿去。在人群嗡嗡的说话声和拖拉笨重行李的嘈杂声中，猫头鹰也刺耳地鸣叫着，你呼我应。
　
　　头几节车厢已经挤满了学生，他们有的从车窗探出身来和家人说话，有的在座位上打闹。哈利在站台上推着小车朝前走，准备找一个空位子。
　
　　他走过时，一个圆脸男孩说：“奶奶，我又把蟾蜍弄丢了。”
　
　　“唉，纳威呀。”他听见一个老太婆叹气说。
　
　　一个留着骇人长发绺①的男孩子被一些孩子围着。“让咱们也见识见识，阿里，快点。”那个孩子把抱着的盒子打开，里边露出一只毛茸茸的长腿，吓得周围的孩子们叽哇乱叫，直往后退。
　
　　哈利从人群中挤过去，在靠近车尾的地方找到一个空隔间②。他先把海德薇放上去，然后连拖带拉地把他的皮箱朝车门口搬。他想把皮箱搬上踏板，可是一点儿也抬不起来。他试了两次，箱子都重重地砸在他脚上。
　
　　“要帮忙吗？”说话的正好是他在闯检票口时碰到的那对火红头发孪生兄弟中的一个。
　
　　“是的，劳驾搭把手吧。”哈利气喘吁吁地说。
　
　　“喂，弗雷德，快过来帮忙！”
　
　　有孪生兄弟帮忙，哈利总算把箱子推到了隔间角落里。
　
　　“多谢了。”哈利说，一边把汗湿的头发从眼前掠开。
　
　　“那是什么？”孪生兄弟中的一个突然指着哈利那道闪电形伤疤说。
　
　　“哎呀，我的天哪，”孪生兄弟中的另一个说，“莫非你是……”
　
　　“他是……”孪生兄弟中第一个说话的说，“你是不是？”他又问哈利。
　
　　“是什么？”哈利问。
　
　　“哈利波特。”孪生兄弟异口同声地说。
　
　　“哦，他呀。”哈利说，“我是说，不错，我就是。”
　
　　兄弟俩呆呆地盯着他看，哈利觉得脸都红了。这时从开着的车门口传来一阵喊声，使哈利如释重负。
　
　　“弗雷德？乔治？你们在车上吗？”
　
　　“就来了，妈妈。”孪生兄弟最后看了一眼就跳下车去。
　
　　哈利靠窗口坐下，半遮半掩。他能看到站台上红头发的一家人，也能听见他们在说些什么，孩子们的母亲正掏出一块手帕。“罗恩，你鼻子上有脏东西。”
　
　　最小的一个正要躲闪，却被母亲一把抓住，替他揩鼻子尖。“妈妈——放开我。”他挣脱了。
　
　　“好哇，罗恩，你这个小鬼头，鼻子又碰灰啦？”孪生兄弟中的一个说。

　　“住嘴。”罗恩说。
　
　　“珀西呢？”他们的母亲问。
　
　　“他来了。”
　
　　远远看见他们的大哥大步朝这边走了过来。他已经换上了他那件飘飘摆摆的霍格沃茨黑色长袍。哈利发现他的胸前别着一个银光闪闪的字母Ｐ。
　
　　“我不能待太久，妈妈，”他说，“我在前边，那里专门给级长划出了两个隔间……”
　
　　“哎呀，珀西，你原来是级长呀？”孪生兄弟中的一个用非常吃惊的口吻说道，“你早该告诉我们，我一点儿都不知道呢。”
　
　　“慢着，我想，我记得他说过的，”孪生兄弟中的另一个说道，“说过一次
……”
　
　　“说不定是两次……”
　
　　“等一会儿……”
　
　　“说了整整一个夏天呢……”
　
　　“哎呀，住嘴。”级长珀西说。
　
　　“你说，珀西是怎么弄到新长袍的？”孪生兄弟中的一个问。
　
　　“因为他是级长呀。”母亲怜爱地说，“好了，亲爱的，祝你学期顺利，到学校以后让猫头鹰给我带封信来。”她亲过珀西的面颊，珀西就走开了。之后，她转身对孪生兄弟说：“现在轮到你们俩了——这一年你们俩要放规矩点。如果猫头鹰给我报信，说你们……你们炸了一只马桶，或是……”
　
　　“炸了一只马桶？我们从来没炸过马桶。”
　
　　“这倒是好主意，多谢了，妈妈。”
　
　　“这可不是闹着玩的。好好照顾罗恩。”
　
　　“放心，罗恩小鬼头跟着我们不会有事。”
　
　　“住嘴。”罗恩说。他的个子差不多跟孪生兄弟一般高，只是鼻尖上被他妈妈擦过的地方还在发红。“嘿，妈妈，您猜怎么着？猜猜我刚才在火车上碰见谁了？”
　
　　哈利连忙往后闪，免得被他们发现他在偷看。
　
　　“你知道刚才在车站上，站在我们旁边的那个黑头发的男孩吗？知道他是谁吗？”
　
　　“谁？”
　
　　“哈利波特！”
　
　　哈利听到了一个小女孩的声音。
　
　　“哎呀，妈妈，我能上车去看看他吗？求求您了，妈妈……”
　
　　“你已经看到过他了，金妮。这个可怜的孩子又不是动物园里的动物，让你看来看去。他真是哈利吗，弗雷德？你怎么知道的？”
　
　　“我问过他了。我看见他那道伤疤了。真的就在那地方，像一道闪电。”
　
　　“可怜的孩子……难怪他孤零零一个人。我还纳闷呢。你看他问去站台怎么走的时候，多有礼貌啊。”
　
　　“这些不用去管了，你想他会记得神秘人的长相吗？”
　
　　他们的母亲突然沉下脸来。
　
　　“不许你们去问他，弗雷德。不许问，你敢去问！你们是想让他在到校的第一天就想起那件事呀！”
　
　　“好了，别发火嘛。”
　
　　响起一阵汽笛声。
　
　　“快！”他们的母亲说，三个孩子匆忙爬上火车。他们从车窗中探出身来，让母亲吻别。他们的小妹妹又哭起来了。
　
　　“别哭，金妮，我们会派好多好多猫头鹰去找你。”
　
　　“好了，我们会送给你一个霍格沃茨的马桶圈。”
　
　　“乔治！”
　
　　“开个玩笑嘛，妈妈。”
　
　　火车启动了。哈利看到孩子们的母亲在招手，他们的小妹妹又哭又笑，跟着火车朝前跑，直到火车加速，她被抛在后面，还在不停地向他们招手。
　
　　哈利一直注视着母女俩，直到火车拐过弯去，看不见她们了。一栋栋房屋从车窗前闪过。哈利感到兴奋极了。他不知道前面会怎么样，但至少要比抛在后面的过去好。
　
　　隔间的推拉门开了，最小的那个火红头发的孩子走了进来。
　
　　“这里有人吗？”他指着哈利对面的座位问。“别的地方都满了。”
　
　　哈利摇摇头。孩子坐了下来。他瞟了哈利一眼，即刻把目光转向车窗外，装作没看哈利的样子。哈利见他鼻尖上还有一块脏东西。
　
　　“嘿，罗恩。”
　
　　一对孪生兄弟也来了。
　
　　“听着，我们现在要到中间车厢走走……李乔丹弄到了一只很大的袋蜘蛛③呢。”
　
　　“哦。”罗恩咕哝了一声。
　
　　“哈利，”孪生兄弟中的另一个说，“我们还没向你作自我介绍吧？弗雷德和乔治·韦斯莱。这是罗恩，我们的小弟弟。一会儿见。”
　
　　“再见。”哈利和罗恩说。孪生兄弟随手把隔间门拉上。

　　“你真是哈利波特吗？”罗恩脱口而出。
　
　　哈利点点头。
　
　　“哦，那好，我还以为弗雷德和乔治跟我开玩笑呢。”罗恩说，“那你当真
……你知道……”他指了指哈利的额头。
　
　　哈利掠开前额上的一绺头发，露出闪电形伤疤。罗恩瞪大了眼睛。
　
　　“这就是神秘人干的……”
　
　　“是的，”哈利说，“可我已经不记得了。”
　
　　“一点都不记得了？”罗恩急切地问。
　
　　“唔……我只记得有许多绿光，别的什么也不记得了。”
　
　　“哎呀。”罗恩说。他坐在那里盯着哈利看了好一会儿，似乎突然才意识到自己在做什么，就连忙把视线转向窗外。
　
　　“你全家都是巫师吗？”哈利问，发现自己和罗恩彼此都对对方感兴趣。
　
　　“哦，是的，我想是这样。”罗恩说，“我想，我妈妈有一个远房表兄是一个会计师，不过我们从来不谈他。”
　
　　“那么你一定学会许多魔法了？”这个韦斯莱家族显然就是在对角巷的那个面色苍白的男孩说过的魔法世家之一了。
　
　　“我听说你后来跟麻瓜们住在一起。”罗恩说，“他们怎么样？”
　
　　“太差劲了，当然不是所有的人都这样。不过我的姨父姨妈和表哥都太差劲了。我要是有三个巫师兄弟就好了。”
　
　　“五个。”罗恩说，不知为什么他显得有些不高兴。“我是我们家去霍格沃茨上学的第六个了。你可以说，我应当以他们为榜样。比尔和查理已经毕业了。比尔是男生学生会主席，查理是魁地奇球队队长。现在珀西当上了级长，弗雷德和乔治尽管调皮捣蛋，但他们的成绩是顶呱呱的。大家都觉得他们很有意思，都盼望我能跟他们一样。话说回来，如果我能做到，也没什么了不起的了，因为他们在我之前就做到了。你要是有五个哥哥，你就永远用不上新东西。我穿比尔的旧长袍，用查理的旧魔杖，还有珀西扔了不要的老鼠。”
　
　　罗恩说着，伸手从上衣内袋里掏出一只肥肥的灰老鼠，它正在睡觉。“它叫斑斑，已经毫无用处了，整天睡不醒。珀西当上了级长，我爸爸送给他一只猫头鹰，他们买不起——我是说，就把老鼠给我了。”罗恩的耳朵涨红了。他似乎觉得自己话太多，就又开始看着窗外。
　
　　哈利觉得买不起猫头鹰也没有什么不好，他自己一个月前不也一直是一文不名吗？他对罗恩讲了实情，说他总是穿达力的旧衣服，从来没有收到过一份像样的生日礼物。这似乎使罗恩的心情好多了。
　
　　“……在海格告诉我之前，我一点也不知道巫师或者我的父母情况，以及伏地魔的事……”
　
　　罗恩吓得喘不上气来。
　
　　“怎么了？”哈利说。
　
　　“你叫出神秘人的名字了！”罗恩说，显得又震惊，又感动。“我早就想到了，所有的人当中只有你……”
　
　　“说出他的名字，并不是因为我勇敢什么的。”哈利说。“而是因为我一直不知道那个名字不能说。明白我的意思吗？我相信，我有许多东西需要学……”他又说，听得出他最近正为此感到忧心忡忡，“我敢说，我一定会是班上最差的学生。”
　
　　“不会的。有很多学生都来自麻瓜家庭，可他们也学得很快。”
　
　　在他们谈话的时候，列车已驶出了伦敦。这时他们正沿着遍地牛羊的田野飞驰。他们沉默了片刻，望着田野和草场从眼前掠过。
　
　　大约十二时半左右，过道上咔嚓咔嚓传来了一阵响亮的嘈杂声，一个笑容可掬、面带酒窝的女人推开隔间门问：“亲爱的，要不要买车上的什么食品？”
　
　　哈利早上一点东西也没吃，于是一下子跳起来，罗恩的耳朵又涨红了，嘟哝说他带着三明治。哈利来到过道里。
　
　　在德思礼家时，他从来没有一分零用钱买糖吃，现在他口袋里装满了哗哗响的金币、银币。只要他拿得下，他要买一大堆火星棒④，可惜车上没有。她只有比比多味豆、吹宝超级泡泡糖、巧克力蛙、南瓜馅饼、锅形蛋糕、甘草魔棒，还有一些哈利从未见过的稀奇古怪的食品。哈利一样不落，每种都买了一些，付给那个女售货员十一个银西可和七枚青铜纳特。
　
　　罗恩直勾勾地看着哈利把买来的食品抱进隔间，一下子都倒在空位子上。
　
　　“你饿了？”
　
　　“饿坏了。”哈利咬了一大口南瓜馅饼说。
　
　　罗恩拿出一个鼓鼓囊囊的纸盒打开，里面装得有四块三明治。他拿出一块，说：“她总不记得我不爱吃罐头咸牛肉。”
　
　　“跟你换一块吧，”哈利拿起一个馅饼说，“来吧……”
　
　　“你不会喜欢吃这个的，太干。”罗恩说，“她没有时间，”他连忙又说，“你看，她要同时照顾我们五个。”
　
　　“来吧，来一个馅饼。”哈利说。
　
　　在这之前他没有分给过别人任何东西，其实也没有人跟他分享。现在跟罗恩坐在一起大嚼自己买来的馅饼和蛋糕（三明治早已放在一边被冷落了），边吃边聊，哈利感觉好极了。
　
　　“这是什么？”哈利拿起一包巧克力蛙问罗恩，“它们不会是真青蛙吧？”他开始觉得现在什么也不会让罗恩吃惊了。
　
　　“不是，”罗恩说，“你看看里边的画片，我少一张阿格丽芭。”
　
　　“什么？”
　
　　“哦，你当然不会知道，巧克力蛙里都附有画片，你知道，可以收集起来，都是一些有名气的男女巫师，我差不多攒了五百张了，就是缺阿格丽芭和波托勒米。”
　
　　哈利打开巧克力蛙，取出画片。画片上是一张男人的脸，戴着一副半月形眼镜，长着一个歪扭的长鼻子，银发和胡须披垂着。画片下边的名字是：阿不思邓布利多。
　
　　“哦，是邓布利多！”哈利说。
　
　　“你可别说从来没听说过邓布利多！”罗恩说，“给我一个巧克力蛙好吗？说不定我能拿到阿格丽芭呢……谢谢……”
　
　　哈利把画片翻过来，读背面的文字：阿不思邓布利多现任霍格沃茨校长，被公认为当代最伟大的巫师。邓布利多广为人知的贡献包括：一九四五年击败黑巫师格林德沃，发现龙血的十二种用途，与合作伙伴尼可勒梅在炼金术方面卓有成效，邓布利多教授爱好室内乐及十柱滚木球戏。
　
　　哈利重新把画片翻到正面，吃惊地发现邓布利多的脸竟然不见了。
　
　　“他不见了！”
　
　　“你当然不能希望他整天待在这里。”罗恩说，“他会回来的。不过我又拿到一张莫佳娜。我已经有六张她的画片了……给你吧？你也可以开始收集了。”
　
　　罗恩眼睛盯着一堆没有拆包的巧克力蛙。
　
　　“你自己拿吧。”哈利说，“可你知道，在麻瓜世界里，人们一旦被拍成照片就永远保留在照片上不变了。”
　
　　“是吗？怎么，那他们就一动不动了吗？”罗恩显得非常惊讶。
　
　　“太奇妙了！”哈利眼看着邓布利多又溜回到画片上，还朝他微微一笑。
　
　　罗恩的兴趣在于吃巧克力蛙，而不是看那些有名气的男女巫师的画片。可哈利怎么也不能把目光从那些画片上移开。他一下子不仅有了邓布利多和莫佳娜，而且还有了汉吉斯、阿博瑞克、瑟斯、帕拉瑟和梅林。最后他总算勉强自己不再去看德鲁伊特⑤教女教徒克丽奥娜，然后打开一袋比比多味豆。
　
　　“吃这个你要当心，”罗恩警告哈利说，“他们所说的多味，你知道，意思是各种味道一应俱全，吃起来不仅有巧克力、薄荷糖、橘子酱等一般的味道，而且还会有菠菜、肝和肚的味道。乔治说，有一次他还吃到过一粒带干鼻子牛儿味的豆子呢。”
　
　　罗恩捡起一粒绿色豆子，仔细看了一下，咬下一点。
　
　　“哎呀呀，明白了吧？芽豆。”
　
　　这包多味豆让他俩都好好地享受了一番。哈利吃到了吐司、椰子、烘豆⑥、草莓、咖喱、青草、沙丁鱼等各种口味，甚至还勇敢地舔了一下罗恩连碰都不敢碰的一粒奇怪的灰豆，原来那是胡椒口味。
　
　　这时在车窗外飞驰而过的田野显得更加荒芜，一片整齐的农田已经消逝了。随之而来的是一片树林、弯弯曲曲的河流和暗绿色的山丘。
　
　　又有人敲他们的隔间门。与哈利在9又3/4站台擦肩而过的圆脸男孩走进来，满眼含泪。
　
　　“对不起，”他说，“我想问问，你看见我的蟾蜍了吗？”
　
　　哈利和罗恩都摇摇头，他就大哭起来。“我又把它弄丢了！它总想从我身边跑掉！”
　
　　“它会回来的。”哈利说。
　
　　“是啊，”孩子伤心地说，“那么，要是你们看见……”他走了。
　
　　“我不明白，他为什么这么着急。”罗恩说，“我要是买了一只蟾蜍，我会想办法尽快把它弄丢，越快越好。不过我既然带了斑斑，也就没话可说了。”
　
　　老鼠还在罗恩的腿上打盹。
　
　　“它说不定早死了，反正死活都一样。”罗恩厌烦地说，“我昨天试着想把它变成黄色的，变得好玩一些，可是我的咒语不灵。我现在来做给你看看，注意了……”
　
　　他在皮箱里摸索了半天，拽出一根很破旧的魔杖，有些地方都剥落了，一头还闪着白色亮光。
　
　　“独角兽毛都要露出来了。不过……”
　
　　他刚举起魔杖，隔间门又开了。那个丢蟾蜍的男孩再次来到他们俩面前，只是这回有一个小姑娘陪他同来。她已经换上了霍格沃茨的新长袍。
　
　　“你们有人看到一只蟾蜍吗？纳威丢了一只蟾蜍。”她说，语气显得自高自大，目中无人。她有一头浓密的棕色头发和一对大门牙。
　
　　“我们已经对他说过了，我们没有看见。”罗恩说，可小姑娘根本不理会，只看着他手里的魔杖。
　
　　“哦。你是在旋魔法吗？那就让我们开开眼吧。”
　
　　她坐了下来。罗恩显然吃了一惊，有些不知所措。
　
　　“哦……好吧。”他清了清嗓子，“雏菊、甜奶油和阳光，把这只傻乎乎的肥老鼠变黄。”他挥动魔杖，但什么也没有发生。斑斑还是灰色的，睡得正香。
　
　　“你肯定这真是一道咒语吗？”小姑娘问。
　
　　“看来不怎么样，是吧？我在家里试过几道简单的咒语，只是为了练习，而且都起作用了。我家没有一个人懂魔法，所以当我收到入学通知书时，我吃惊极了，但又特别高兴，因为，我的意思是说，据我所知，这是一所最优秀的魔法学校——所有的课本我都背会了，当然，我只希望这能够用——我叫赫敏格兰杰，顺便问一句，你们叫什么名字？”她连珠炮似的一气说完。
　
　　“我叫罗恩韦斯莱。”罗恩嘟哝说。
　
　　“哈利波特。”哈利说。
　
　　“真的是你吗？”赫敏问。“你的事我都知道。当然……我额外多买了几本参考书，《现代魔法史》、《黑魔法的兴衰》、《二十世纪重要魔法事件》，这几本书里都提到了你。”
　
　　“提到我？”哈利说，突然感到一阵头晕目眩。
　
　　“天哪，你居然会不知道。要是我，我一定会想办法把所有提到我的书都找来。”赫敏说，“你们知不知道自己会被分到哪个学院？我已经到处打听过了，我希望能分到格兰芬多，都说那是最好的，我听说，邓布利多自己就是从那里毕业的，不过我想拉文克劳也不算太坏……不管怎么说，我们最好还是先去找纳威的蟾赊。你们俩最好赶快把衣服换上，要知道，我们大概很快就要到了。”
　
　　于是她领着那个丢蟾蜍的男孩一道走了。
　
　　“不管分到哪个学院，我都不希望跟她分在一起。”罗恩说。他把魔杖扔到了旅行箱里。“这个咒语没用，是乔治告诉我的。我敢说，他准早就知道这是一发瞎炮。”
　
　　“你的两个哥哥都在哪个学院？”哈利问。
　
　　“格兰芬多。”罗恩说，他似乎又显得不开心了。“妈妈和爸爸以前也是上这个学院的。如果我不去那个学院，不知道他们会怎么说。我并不认为去拉文克劳就特别不好，可想想看，千万别把我分到斯莱特林学院。”
　
　　“那是伏……对不起，我是说，就是神秘人待过的吗？”
　
　　“不错。”罗恩说着，倒在座位上，显得很沮丧。
　
　　“你看，我觉得斑斑胡子尖的颜色变淡了。”哈利说，想把罗恩的注意力从学院的事情上转移开来。“你的两个哥哥既然毕业了，现在他们都在做什么？”哈利想知道巫师从学校毕业后会去做什么。
　
　　“查理在罗马尼亚研究龙，比尔在非洲替古灵阁做事。”罗恩说。“你听说古灵阁的事了吗？《预言家日报》上都登满了，不过你跟麻瓜住在一起，我想你不会看到这份报纸的——有人试图抢劫防范高度严密的地下金库呢。”
　
　　哈利瞪大了眼睛。
　
　　“真的吗？后来怎么样了？”
　
　　“什么事也没有，正因为这样才爆出一件大新闻。他们没有被抓住。我爸爸说，显然只有功力最高强的黑巫师才能设法摆脱古灵阁的追捕。不过他们什么也没有拿走，怪就怪在这里。当然，每当这类事情发生时，就人人自危，人们担心事情背后有神秘人指使。”
　
　　哈利在脑子里反复琢磨这件新闻。每当提到神秘人，他就不寒而栗。他认为这也许是初入魔法世界的必然感受吧，但是比起先前能毫无顾忌地直呼伏地魔的名字，现在可不如当初好受了。
　
　　“你喜欢哪一支魁地奇球队？”罗恩问。
　
　　“哦……我全都不了解。”哈利承认说。
　
　　“什么！”罗恩似乎惊呆了。“哦，你等等，这是世界上最好的娱乐……”接着他就滔滔不绝地讲解四只球，七名队员的位置，绘声绘色地讲他跟几个哥哥去看的几场有名的球赛，并说等他有了钱，他要买一把他喜欢的飞天扫帚。当他正好讲到球赛最精彩的地方时，隔间门又被推开了，不过这回进来的不是丢失蟾蜍的男孩纳威，也不是赫敏格兰杰。
　
　　进来了三个男孩，哈利立刻认出中间的一个正是他在摩金夫人长袍店里遇到的那个面色苍白的男孩。他怀着比在对角巷时大得多的兴趣注视着哈利。
　
　　“是真的吗？”他问，“整列火车上的人都在纷纷议论，说哈利波特在这个隔间里。这么说，那就是你了。对吧？”
　
　　“是的。”哈利说，他看着另外两个男孩，他们俩都是矮胖墩，而且长相特别难看，站在小白脸两边，一边一个，简直像他的一对保镖。
　
　　“哦，这是克拉布，这是高尔。”面色苍白的男孩发现哈利在看他们，就随随便便地说，“我叫马尔福，德拉科马尔福。”
　
　　罗恩轻轻咳了一声，免得笑出声来。
　
　　德拉科马尔福看着他。“你觉得我的名字太可笑，是吗？不用问你是谁。我父亲告诉我，韦斯莱家的人都是红头发，满脸雀斑，而且孩子多得养不起。”
　
　　他转身对哈利说：“你很快就会发现，有些巫师家庭要比其他家庭好许多，波特。你不会想跟另类的人交朋友吧。在这一点上我能帮你。”
　
　　他伸出手要跟哈利握手，可哈利没有答理。
　
　　“我想我自己能分辨出谁是另类，多谢了。”他冷冷地说。
　
　　德拉科马尔福脸没有涨红，只是苍白的面颊泛出淡淡的红晕。
　
　　“我要是你呀，波特，我会特别小心。”他慢慢吞吞地说，“你应当放客气点，否则你会同样走上你父母的那条路。他们也不知好歹。你如果跟像韦斯莱家或海格这样不三不四的人混在一起，你会受到影响的。”
　
　　哈利和罗恩腾地站了起来。罗恩脸红得跟他的红头发一样。
　
　　“你再说一遍。”他说。
　
　　“哦，你们想打架，是不是？”马尔福冷笑说。
　
　　“除非你们现在就给我出去。”哈利说，其实他内心并不像外表这么勇敢，因为克拉布和高尔的块头要比他和罗恩大得多。
　
　　“可是我们并没有想走的意思，是不是啊，小伙子们？我们把吃的东西都吃光了，你们这里好像还有。”
　
　　高尔伸手去拿罗恩旁边的巧克力蛙……罗恩朝前一扑，根本还没碰到高尔，就听高尔一声惨叫。
　
　　老鼠斑斑吊在他的手指上，尖利的小牙深深地咬进了高尔的肉里——高尔一边大叫，一边不停地挥手想把斑斑甩掉；克拉布和马尔福直往后退。最后斑斑终于被甩掉了，撞到车窗上；他们三人也立刻趁机溜掉了。也许他们以为糖果里还埋伏着更多的老鼠，也许他们听到了脚步声，因为跟着赫敏格兰杰就进来了。
　
　　“出什么事了？”她看着撒满一地的糖果问。
　
　　罗恩提着斑斑的尾巴，把它从地上拾起来。
　
　　“我想，它肯定摔晕了。”罗恩对哈利说。他凑到斑斑跟前仔细查看，“哎呀，我简直不敢相信，它又睡着了。”
　
　　它真的睡着了。
　
　　“你以前碰到过马尔福吗？”
　
　　哈利向罗恩讲述了他在对角巷与马尔福相遇的事。
　
　　“我听说过他家的事。”罗恩阴郁地说，“神秘人失踪以后，他们是第一批回到我们这边的人。说他们走火入魔了，我爸爸不相信。他说马尔福的父亲不用找任何借口就轻易倒到黑势力那边去了。”他又转过身来对赫敏说：“需要我们帮什么忙吗？”
　
　　“你们最好还是赶快换上长袍，我刚到车头问过司机，他说我们就要到了。你们没有打架吧？我们还没到地方，你们就要惹出麻烦来！”
　
　　“斑斑干了一架，我们没有。”罗恩绷着脸瞪着她说，“我们要换衣服了，请你出去一下好吗？”
　
　　“好吧……我来这里是因为外面那些人太淘气了，在走道上跑来跑去。”赫敏不屑地说，“哦，顺便说一句，你鼻子上有块脏东西，你知道吗？”
　
　　她出去时，罗恩瞪了她一眼。哈利朝车窗外瞥了一眼。天已经黑下来了。他看见深紫色的天空下一片山峦和树林。火车似乎减慢了速度。
　
　　哈利和罗恩脱下外衣，换上黑长袍。罗恩的长袍短了点儿，下边露出了他那双球鞋。
　
　　“再过五分钟列车就要到达霍格沃茨了，请将你们的行李留在车上，我们会替你们送到学校去的。”这声音在列车上回荡。
　
　　哈利紧张得胃里的东西直往上翻，他看见罗恩雀斑下面的脸色也发白了。他们把剩下的糖果塞进衣袋，就随着过道上的人流朝前涌去。
　
　　列车放慢了速度，最后终于停了下来。旅客们推推搡搡，纷纷拥向车门，下到一个又黑又小的站台上。夜里的寒气使哈利打了个寒噤。接着一盏灯在学生们头顶上晃动，哈利听见一个熟悉的声音在高喊：“一年级新生！一年级新生到这边来！哈利，到这边来，你好吗？”
　
　　在万头攒动的一片人海之上，海格蓄着大胡子的脸露着微笑。“来吧，跟我来，还有一年级新生吗？当心你们脚底下，好了！一年级新生跟我来！”
　
　　他们跟随海格连滑带溜，磕磕绊绊，似乎是沿着一条陡峭狭窄的小路走下坡去。小路两旁一片漆黑，哈利心里想这两边应该是茂密的树林吧。没有人说话。只有丢失蟾蜍的那个男孩偶尔吸一两下鼻子。
　
　　“拐过这个弯，你们马上就要第一次看到霍格沃茨了。”海格回头喊道。接着是一阵嘹亮的“噢……！”
　
　　狭窄的小路尽头突然展开了一片黑色的湖泊。湖对岸高高的山坡上耸立着一座巍峨的城堡，城堡上塔尖林立，一扇扇窗口在星空下闪烁。
　
　　“每条船不能超过四人！”海格指着泊在岸边的一队小船大声说。哈利和罗恩上了小船，纳威和赫敏也跟着上来了。
　
　　“都上船了吗？”海格喊道，他自己一人乘一条船。“那好……前进啰！”
　
　　一队小船即刻划过波平如镜的湖面向前驶去。大家都沉默无语，凝视着高入云天的巨大城堡。当他们临近城堡所在的悬崖时，那城堡仿佛耸立在他们头顶上空。
　
　　“低头！”当第一批小船驶近峭壁时，海格大声喊道。
　
　　大家都低下头来，小船载着他们穿过覆盖山崖正面的常春藤帐幔，来到隐秘的开阔入口。他们沿着一条漆黑的隧道似乎来到了城堡地下，最后到达了一个类似地下码头的地方，然后又攀上一片碎石和小鹅卵石的地面。
　
　　“喂，你看看！这是你的蟾蜍吗？”学生纷纷下船，海格在清查空船时说。
　
　　“感谢上帝！”纳威伸出双臂欣喜若狂地喊道。
　
　　之后他们在海格提灯的灯光照耀下攀上山岩中的一条隧道，最后终于到达了城堡阴影下的一处平坦潮湿的草地。大家攀上一段石阶，聚在一扇巨大的橡木门前。
　
　　“都到齐了吗？你看看，你的蟾蜍还在吧？”海格举起一只硕大的拳头，往城堡大门上敲了三下。
　

　
　　①牙买加黑人的一种发式。
　　②这里指英国客车车厢中设有面对面座位的隔间。
　　③一种产自南非的毒蜘蛛。
　　④一种条形巧克力，内夹乳脂。
　　⑤德鲁伊特是古代克尔特人中一批有学识的人，担任祭司、法官、巫师或占卜者等。
　　⑥由豆加咸肉、糖浆、番茄酱制成。

　

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举报只看该作者 6楼发表于: 2013-10-23 0

　　CHAPTER SEVEN
　　THE SORTING HAT
　　The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.
　　"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.
　　"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."
　　She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.
　　They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right -the rest of the school must already be here -- but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.
　　"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.
　　"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.
　　"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."
　　Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair.
　　"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."
　　She left the chamber. Harry swallowed.
　　"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked Ron.
　　"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."
　　Harry's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But he didn't know any magic yet -- what on earth would he have to do? He hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived. He looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. Harry tried hard not to listen to her. He'd never been more nervous, never, not even when he'd had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he'd somehow turned his teacher's wig blue. He kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him to his doom.
　　Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air -- several people behind him screamed.
　　"What the --?"
　　He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance --"
　　"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost -- I say, what are you all doing here?"
　　A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.
　　Nobody answered.
　　"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"
　　A few people nodded mutely.
　　"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."
　　"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."
　　Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.
　　"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."
　　Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.
　　Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard
　　Hermione whisper, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."
　　It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.
　　Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house.
　　Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Harry thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing -- noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth -- and the hat began to sing:
　　"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
　　But don't judge on what you see,
　　I'll eat myself if you can find
　　A smarter hat than me.
　　You can keep your bowlers black,
　　Your top hats sleek and tall,
　　For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
　　And I can cap them all.
　　There's nothing hidden in your head
　　The Sorting Hat can't see,
　　So try me on and I will tell you
　　Where you ought to be.
　　You might belong in Gryffindor,
　　Where dwell the brave at heart,
　　Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;
　　You might belong in Hufflepuff,
　　Where they are just and loyal,
　　Those patient Hufflepuffis are true And unafraid of toil;
　　Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
　　if you've a ready mind,
　　 Where those of wit and learning,
　　Will always find their kind;
　　Or perhaps in Slytherin
　　You'll make your real friends,
　　Those cunning folk use any means
　　To achieve their ends.
　　So put me on! Don't be afraid!
　　And don't get in a flap!
　　You're in safe hands (though I have none)
　　For I'm a Thinking Cap!"
　　The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.
　　"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."
　　Harry. smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather alot; Harry didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.
　　Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.
　　"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"
　　A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moments pause --
　　"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.
　　The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.
　　"Bones, Susan!"
　　"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.
　　"Boot, Terry!"
　　"RAVENCLAW!"
　　The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.
　　" Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.
　　"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, after all he'd heard about Slytherin, but he thought they looked like an unpleasant lot. He was starting to feel definitely sick now. He remembered being picked for teams during gym at his old school. He had always been last to be chosen, not because he was no good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked him.
　　"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"
　　"HUFFLEPUFF!"
　　Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.
　　"Granger, Hermione!"
　　Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.
　　"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.
　　A horrible thought struck Harry, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train?
　　When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."
　　Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"
　　Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.
　　There weren't many people left now. "Moon" "Nott" "Parkinson" then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" then "Perks, Sally-Anne" and then, at last -- "Potter, Harry!"
　　As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.
　　"Potter, did she say?"
　　The Harry Potter?"
　　The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.
　　Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, A my goodness, yes -- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting.... So where shall I put you?"
　　Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.
　　"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that -- no? Well, if you're sure -- better be GRYFFINDOR!"
　　Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He was so relieved to have been chosen and not put in Slytherin, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he'd seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.
　　He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Harry grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry spotted Professor Quirtell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.
　　And now there were only three people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. Harry crossed his fingers under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"
　　Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to him.
　　"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley Pompously across Harry as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.
　　Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realized how hungry he was. The pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago.
　　Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.
　　"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!
　　"Thank you!"
　　He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not.
　　 "Is he -- a bit mad?" he asked Percy uncertainly.
　　"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"
　　Harry's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.
　　The Dursleys had never exactly starved Harry, but he'd never been allowed to eat as much as he liked. Dudley had always taken anything that Harry really wanted, even if It made him sick. Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious.
　　"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak,
　　"Can't you --?"
　　I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've in troduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."
　　"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you -- you're Nearly Headless Nick!"
　　"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy --" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.
　　"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"
　　Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.
　　"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So -- new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable -- he's the Slytherin ghost."
　　Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who, Harry was pleased to see, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.
　　"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.
　　"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.
　　When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding -- "
　　As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.
　　"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."
　　The others laughed.
　　"What about you, Neville?" said Ron.
　　"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all- Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me -- he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned -- but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced -- all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here -- they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."
　　On Harry's other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons ("I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult-"; "You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing -- ").
　　Harry, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at
　　the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.
　　It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes -- and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.
　　"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.
　　"What is it?" asked Percy.
　　"N-nothing."
　　The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look -- a feeling that he didn't like Harry at all.
　　"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Percy.
　　"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to -- everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."
　　Harry watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn't look at him again.
　　At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.
　　"Ahern -- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.
　　"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
　　Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.
　　"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.
　　"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.
　　"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
　　Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.
　　"He's not serious?" he muttered to Percy.
　　"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere -- the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."
　　"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.
　　Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.
　　"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!" And the school bellowed:
　　"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
　　Teach us something please,
　　Whether we be old and bald
　　Or young with scabby knees,
　　Our heads could do with filling
　　With some interesting stuff,
　　For now they're bare and full of air,
　　Dead flies and bits of fluff,
　　So teach us things worth knowing,
　　Bring back what we've forgot,
　　just do your best, we'll do the rest,
　　And learn until our brains all rot.
　　Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.
　　"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
　　The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry's legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. He was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Harry was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.
　　A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.
　　"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves -- show yourself"
　　A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.
　　"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"
　　There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross- legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.
　　"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"
　　He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.
　　"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.
　　Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.
　　"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."
　　At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.
　　"Password?" she said. "Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it -- Neville needed a leg up -- and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.
　　Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase -- they were obviously in one of the towers -- they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.
　　" Great food, isn't it?" Ron muttered to Harry through the hangings. "Get off, Scabbers! He's chewing my sheets."
　　Harry was going to ask Ron if he'd had any of the treacle tart, but he fell asleep almost at once.
　　Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit too much, because he had a very strange dream. He was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to him, telling him he must transfer to Slytherin at once, because it was his destiny. Harry told the turban he didn't want to be in Slytherin; it got heavier and heavier; he tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully -- and there was Malfoy, laughing at him as he struggled with it -then Malfoy turned into the hook-nosed teacher, Snape, whose laugh became high and cold -- there was a burst of green light and Harry woke, sweating and shaking.
　　He rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke next day, he didn't remember the dream at all.

第七章　分院帽
　
　

　
　　大门立时洞开。一个身穿翠绿色长袍的高个儿黑发女巫站在大门前。她神情严肃，哈利首先想到的是这个人可不好对付。
　
　　“一年级新生，麦格教授。”海格说。
　
　　“谢谢你，海格。到这里就交给我来接走。”
　
　　她把门拉得大开。门厅大得能把德思礼家整栋房子搬进去。像古灵阁一样，石墙周围都是熊熊燃烧的火炬。天花板高得几乎看不到顶。正面是一段豪华的大理石楼梯，直通楼上。
　
　　他们跟随麦格教授沿石铺地板走去。哈利听见右边门里传来几百人嗡嗡的说话声，学校其他班级的同学想必已经到了——但是麦格教授却把一年级新生带到了大厅另一头的一间很小的空屋里。大家一拥而入，摩肩擦背地挤在一起，紧张地仔细凝望着周围的一切。
　
　　“欢迎你们来到霍格沃茨，”麦格教授说，“开学宴就要开始了，不过你们在到餐厅入席之前，首先要你们大家确定一下你们各自进入哪一所学院。分类是一项很重要的仪式，因为你们在校期间，学院就像你们在霍格沃茨的家。你们要与学院里的其他同学一起上课，一起在学院的宿舍住宿，一起在学院的公共休息室里度过课余时间。
　
　　“四所学院的名称分别是：格兰芬多、赫奇帕奇、拉文克劳和斯莱特林。每所学院都拥有自己的光荣历史，都培育出了杰出的男女巫师。你们在霍格沃茨就读期间，你们的出色表现会使你们所在的学院赢得加分，而任何违规行为则使你们所在的学院减分。年终时，获最高分的学院可获得学院杯，这是很高的荣誉。我希望你们不论分到哪所学院都能为学院争光。
　
　　“过几分钟，分院仪式就要在全校师生面前举行。我建议你们在等候时，好好把自己整理一下，精神一些。”
　
　　她的目光在纳威的斗篷（斗篷带系在左耳下边）和罗恩鼻子那块脏东西上游移了一下。哈利紧张地拼命把头发抚平。
　
　　“等那边准备好了，我就过来接你们。”麦格教授说，“等候时，请保持安静。”
　
　　她离开了房间。哈利这才吐了一口气。
　
　　“他们怎么能准确地把我们分到哪所学院去呢？”他问罗恩。
　
　　“我想，总是通过一种测验呗。弗雷德说对我们的伤害很大，可我想他是在开玩笑。”
　
　　哈利心里猛地一颤。做测验？在全校师生面前？可他直到现在连一点儿魔法也不会——他究竟该怎么办呢？他们来到这里时，他根本没有想到还会来这么一招。他焦急地看看周围，周围的人也人人自危。没有人说话。只有赫敏口中念念有词，在飞快地背诵着她学过的咒语，拿不准该用哪一道。哈利尽量不去听她背诵。他从来没有像现在这样紧张过，从来没有，即使他把学校报告书交给德思礼夫妇，报告书上说他把老师的假发套变成了蓝色。他目不转睛地盯着房门，麦格教授随时都可能回来带他去面对毁灭。
　
　　这时发生了一件怪事，吓得他一蹦三丈高，他背后有几个人还高声尖叫。
　
　　“那是……”
　
　　他吓得透不过气来，周围的人也是一样。从他们背后的墙上突然蹿出二十来个幽灵。这些珍珠白、半透明的幽灵，滑过整个房间，一边交头接耳，对这些一年级新生很少留意。他们好像在争论什么。一个胖乎乎的小修士模样的幽灵说：“应当原谅，应当忘掉，我说，我们应当再给他一次机会……”
　
　　“我的好修士，难道我们给皮皮鬼的机会还不够多吗？可他给我们都取了难听的外号。你知道，他甚至连一个起码的幽灵都够不上——我说，你们在这里干什么？”
　
　　一个穿轮状皱领①紧身衣的幽灵突然发现了一年级新生。

　　没有人答话。
　
　　“新生哟！”那个胖乎乎的修士朝他们微笑说，“我想，大概是准备接受测试吧？”
　
　　有些学生默默地点点头。
　
　　“希望你们能分到赫奇帕奇！”修士说，“我以前就读那个学院。”
　
　　“现在朝前动动吧，”一个尖细的声音说，“分院仪式马上就要开始了。”
　
　　麦格教授回来了。幽灵们鱼贯地飘飘荡荡穿过对面的墙壁不见了。
　
　　“现在，排成单行，”麦格教授对一年级新生说，“跟着我走。”
　
　　哈利觉得两腿像灌了铅，可奇怪的是他还是站到了队列里，在一个淡茶色头发男孩背后，而他的背后是罗恩。他们走出房间，穿过门厅，经过后边一道双开门进入豪华的餐厅。
　
　　哈利从未想到过竟会有如此神奇美妙、富丽堂皇的地方。学院其他班级的同学都已围坐在四张长桌旁，桌子上方成千上万只飘荡在半空的蜡烛照亮餐厅。四张桌上摆着熠熠闪光的金盘和高脚酒杯。餐厅上首的台子上另摆着一张长桌，那是教师们的席位。麦格教授把一年级新生带到那边，让他们面对全体高班生排成一排，教师们在他们背后。烛光摇曳，几百张注视着他们的面孔像一盏盏苍白的灯笼。幽灵们也夹杂在学生们当中闪着朦胧的点点银光。
　
　　哈利为避开他们的目光，抬头朝上看去，只见天鹅绒般漆黑的顶棚上点点星光闪烁。他听见赫敏小声说：“这里施过法术，看起来跟外边的天空一样，我在《霍格沃茨，一段校史》里读到过。”
　
　　很难令人相信那上边真有天花板，也很难令人相信餐厅屋顶不是露天的。
　
　　麦格教授往一年级新生面前轻轻放了一只四脚凳，哈利连忙收回目光。麦格教授又往凳子上放了一顶尖顶巫师帽。帽子打着补丁，磨得很旧，而且脏极了。佩妮姨妈决不会让这样的东西进家门。
　
　　说不定他们要用这顶帽子变出一只兔子吧，哈利想入非非，大概就是这类事吧——他发现餐厅里的人都在盯着这顶帽子，于是他也盯着它。
　
　　餐厅里鸦雀无声。接着，帽子扭动了。帽边裂开一道宽宽的缝，像一张嘴。帽子开始唱起来：
　
　　你们也许觉得我不算漂亮，
　　但千万不要以貌取人，
　　如果你们能找到比我更漂亮的帽子，
　　我可以把自己吃掉。
　　你们可以让你们的圆顶礼帽乌黑油亮，
　　让你们的高顶丝帽光滑挺括，
　　我可是霍格沃茨测试用的魔帽，
　　自然比你们的帽子高超出众。
　　你们头脑里隐藏的任何念头，
　　都躲不过魔帽的金睛火眼，
　　戴上它试一下吧，
　　我会告诉你们，
　　你们应该分到哪一所学院。
　　你也许属于格兰芬多，
　　那里有埋藏在心底的勇敢，
　　他们的胆识、气魄和豪爽，
　　使格兰芬多出类拔萃；
　　你也许属于赫奇帕奇，
　　那里的人正直忠诚，
　　赫奇帕奇的学子们坚忍诚实，
　　不畏惧艰辛的劳动；
　　如果你头脑精明，
　　或许会进智慧的老拉文克劳，
　　那些睿智博学的人，
　　总会在那里遇见他们的同道；
　　也许你会进斯菜特林，
　　也许你在这里交上真诚的朋友，
　　但那些狡诈阴险之辈却会不惜一切手段，
　　去达到他们的目的。
　　来戴上我吧！
　　不必害怕！
　　千万不要惊慌失措！
　　在我的手里（尽管我连一只手也没有）
　　你绝对安全因为我是一顶会思想的魔帽！
　
　　魔帽唱完歌后，全场掌声雷动，魔帽向四张餐桌一一鞠躬行礼，随后就静止不动了。
　
　　“所以，我们只要戴上这顶帽子就可以了。”罗恩悄悄对哈利说，“我要把弗雷德杀掉，听他说得像是要跟巨人搏斗呢。”
　
　　哈利淡淡地一笑。当然，戴帽子要比来一段咒语好多了，但他还是不希望在众目睽睽之下去戴。看来这顶帽子的要求高了些。哈利觉得自己没有那份勇气和机灵劲儿或其他任何优点。如果帽子提出有一所专门让优柔寡断的人进的学院，那倒是对他最合适的地方。
　
　　这时麦格教授朝前走了几步，手里拿着一卷羊皮纸。
　
　　“我现在叫到谁的名字，谁就戴上帽子，坐到凳子上，听候分院。”她说，“汉娜艾博！”
　
　　一个面色红润、梳着两条金色发辫的小姑娘，跌跌撞撞地走出队列，戴上帽子，帽子刚好遮住她的眼睛。她坐了下来。
　
　　片刻停顿……“赫奇帕奇！”帽子喊道。
　
　　右边一桌的人向汉娜鼓掌欢呼，欢迎她在他们这一桌就坐。哈利看见胖修士幽灵也高兴地向她挥手致意。
　
　　“苏珊彭斯！”“赫奇帕奇！”帽子又喊道。
　
　　苏珊飞快地跑到汉娜身边坐下。
　
　　“泰瑞布特！”“拉文克劳！”
　
　　这次左边第二桌拍手鼓掌。当泰瑞加入到他们的行列时，有几名拉文克劳的学生站起来和他握手。
　
　　曼蒂布洛贺也分到拉文克劳，拉文德布朗则成了格兰芬多的第一位新生，左边最远的一张餐桌即刻爆发出一阵欢呼，哈利看见罗恩的一对孪生哥哥发出了嘘声。
　
　　接着米里森伯斯德成为斯莱特林的新生。也许哈利听了许多关于斯莱特林的议论，产生了某些印象，但他总觉得这些人看起来不讨人喜欢。
　
　　他现在开始感到特别不舒服。他回想起在小学上体育课时分组的事。总是挑到最后剩他一个人，这并不是因为他不够好，而是因为谁也不想让达力认为他们喜欢他。
　
　　“贾斯廷芬列里！”“赫奇帕奇！”
　
　　哈利发现有时帽子立刻就喊出学院的名字，但另一些时候花了一些时间才作出决定。比如排在哈利旁边的那个浅茶色头发的男孩西莫斐尼甘就在凳子上几乎坐了整整一分钟，帽子才宣布他被分到格兰芬多。
　
　　“赫敏格兰杰！”
　
　　赫敏几乎跑到凳子跟前，急急忙忙把帽子扣到头上。
　
　　“格兰芬多！”帽子喊道。
　
　　罗恩哼了一声。
　
　　当你非常紧张的时候，就会生出许多可怕的想法，哈利也是一样。他突然想到要是万一根本不挑选他会怎么样呢？如果帽子扣在他头上盖住他的眼睛好长时间，最后还是麦格教授把帽子从他头上拽下来，然后说，明摆着是搞错了，要他最好还是坐火车回去，那又会怎么样呢？
　
　　叫到那个总丢失蟾蜍的男孩纳威隆巴顿的名字时，他朝凳子跑的路上摔了一跤。帽子用了好长时间才对纳威作出决定。当帽子最后喊出“格兰芬多”时，纳威戴着帽子就跑掉了，最后不得不在一片哄笑声中一溜小跑回来，把帽子还给麦格教授。
　
　　叫到马尔福的名字时，马尔福大模大样走过去，而且即刻如愿以偿，帽子几乎刚碰到他的头就尖叫道：“斯莱特林！”
　
　　马尔福前去和他的朋友克拉布与高尔会合，露出对自己很满意的样子。
　
　　这时，剩下的人已经不多了。
　
　　莫恩……诺特……帕金森……之后是一对佩蒂尔孪生姐妹……然后是莎莉安波克斯……最后，总算轮到——“哈利波特！”
　
　　当哈利朝前走去时，餐厅里突然发出的一阵嗡嗡低语像小火苗的咝咝响声。
　
　　“波特，她是在叫波特吗？”“是那个哈利波特？”
　
　　在帽子就要扣到头上遮住他的视线时，哈利看到餐厅里人头攒动，人人引颈而望，希望看清他的模样。接着就是帽子里的黑暗世界和等待。
　
　　“嗯，”他听到耳边一个细微的声音说，“难，非常难。看得出很有勇气，心地也不坏，有天分。哦，我的天哪，不错——你有急于证明自己的强烈愿望，那么，很有意思……我该把你分到哪里去呢？”
　
　　哈利紧紧抓住凳子边，心里想：“不去斯莱特林，不去斯莱特林。”
　
　　“不去斯莱特林，对吧？”那个细微的声音问，“拿定主意了吗？你能成大器，你知道，在你一念之间，斯莱特林能帮助你走向辉煌，这毫无疑问——不乐意？那好，既然你已经拿定主意——那就最好去格兰芬多吧！”
　
　　哈利听见帽子向整个餐厅喊出了最后那个名字。他摘下帽子，两腿微微颤抖着走向格兰芬多那一桌。他入选了，而且没有被分到斯莱特林，这使他大大松了一口气，也使他几乎没有注意到自己竟获得了最响亮的欢呼喝彩。级长珀西站起来紧紧地跟他握手。韦斯莱家的孪生兄弟大声喊道：“我们有波特了！我们有波特了！”哈利坐到他先前碰到的那个穿轮状皱领的幽灵对面。幽灵拍了拍他的手臂，使他突然产生了一种刚刚跳进一桶冰水里的可怕感觉。
　
　　现在哈利总算可以好好看看高台上的主宾席了。海格坐在离他最近的角落。他捕捉到了哈利的目光，向他竖起大拇指。哈利咧嘴报以一笑。主宾席的中央，一把大金椅上坐着阿不思邓布利多。哈利一眼就认出了他的面孔，因为他在火车上从巧克力蛙的巫师画片上见过。整个餐厅里只有邓布利多的银发和幽灵们一样闪闪发光。哈利也同样认出了奇洛教授，那个他在破釜酒吧遇到的神经质的年轻人。他头上裹着一条很大的紫色围巾，显得很古怪。
　
　　现在听候分配的只剩下三个人了。莉莎杜平成了拉文克劳的新生。接着就轮到了罗恩。他这时脸色发青。哈利紧握着双手放在桌下。一眨眼工夫帽子就高喊道：“格兰芬多！”
　
　　当罗恩一下子瘫倒在哈利旁边的座位上时，哈利跟着其余的人大声鼓掌。
　
　　“很好，罗恩，太好了！”珀西韦斯莱越过哈利，用夸张的口吻说。
　
　　这时剩下的最后一名布雷司沙比尼被分到斯莱特林。麦格教授卷起羊皮纸，拿起分院帽离去了。
　
　　哈利低头看着面前空空的金盘子，这才感觉到早已饥肠辘辘。吃南瓜馅饼似乎是很久以前的事了。
　
　　阿不思邓布利多站起来，他笑容满面地看着学生们，向他们伸开双臂，似乎没有什么比看到学生们济济一堂使他更高兴的了。
　
　　“欢迎啊！”他说，“欢迎大家来霍格沃茨开始新的学年！在宴会开始前，我想讲几句话。那就是：‘笨蛋！哭鼻子！残渣！拧！’谢谢大家！”
　
　　他重新坐下来。大家鼓掌欢呼。哈利不知道是否该一笑置之。
　
　　“他是不是……有点疯疯癫癫？”他迟疑地问珀西。
　
　　“疯疯癫癫？”珀西小声说，“他是一位天才！世界上最优秀的巫师！不过你说得也对，他是有点疯疯癫癫。要不要来点马铃薯，哈利？”
　
　　哈利目瞪口呆。这时他面前的餐盘里都放满了吃的。他从来没见过桌上一下子摆这么多他喜欢吃的东西：烤牛肉、烤子鸡、猪排、羊羔排、腊肠、牛排、煮马铃薯、烤马铃薯、炸薯片、约克夏布丁、豌豆苗、胡萝卜、肉汁、番茄酱，而且不知出于什么古怪的原因，还有薄荷硬糖。
　
　　说实在的，德思礼夫妇并没让哈利饿着，可也没有真正让他放开肚皮吃过。达力总是把哈利想吃的东西抢走了，尽管这些东西有时候让达力想吐。除了薄荷硬糖之外，哈利每样都往餐盘里拿了一点儿，开始大嚼起来。样样都很好吃。
　
　　“看起来真不错呀。”穿轮状皱领的幽灵眼睁睁地看着哈利切牛排，难过地说。
　
　　“你不来上一点儿吗？”
　
　　“我已经有四百年没有吃东西了。”那个幽灵说，“我不需要吃，不过，当然很怀念它们的美昧。我想，我还没有做自我介绍吧？敏西－波平顿的尼古拉斯爵士，格兰芬多塔的常驻幽灵。”
　
　　“我知道你是谁了！”罗恩突然说，“我的两个哥哥对我讲起过你——你是那个‘差点没头的尼克’！”
　
　　“我想，我比较喜欢你们叫我敏西的尼古拉斯爵士。”幽灵显得有些局促不安，但是淡茶色头发的西莫斐尼甘插话说：“差点没头？你怎么会差点没头？”
　
　　尼古拉斯爵士显得很生气，看来他不想谈这个话题。
　
　　“就像这样。”他急躁地说。他抓住左耳朵往下拽。他的头摇摇晃晃从脖子上滑了下来，搭到肩上，仿佛头是用铰链连接的。看来有人砍他的头，没有砍彻底。差点没头的尼克眼看他们一个个目瞪口呆的表情，很开心。他把头轻轻弹回到脖子上，清了清嗓子，说：“好了，格兰芬多的新同学们！我希望你们能帮助我们赢得本学年的学院杯冠军，好吗？格兰芬多从来没有这么长的时间没赢过奖了。斯莱特林来了个六连冠！血人巴罗实在让人忍无可忍了——他是斯莱特林的幽灵。”
　
　　哈利朝斯莱特林那一桌看过去，看见桌旁坐着一个幽灵，十分可怕，瞪着呆滞的眼睛，形容枯槁，长袍上沾满银色的血斑。血人巴罗正好坐在马尔福旁边，马尔福对这样的座位安排不太满意，哈利看了心里觉得乐滋滋的。
　
　　“他怎么弄得浑身都是血？”西奠特别感兴趣。
　
　　“我从来没问过。”差点没头的尼克拘谨地说。
　
　　等到每人都敞开肚皮填饱了肚子以后，剩下的食物就一股脑儿地从餐盘里消失了。餐盘叉都变得光洁如初。过了一会儿，布丁上来了。各种口味的冰淇淋应有尽有，苹果饼、糖浆饼、巧克力松糕、炸果酱甜圈、酒浸果酱布丁、草莓、果冻、米布丁……哈利取过一块糖浆饼，这时话题又转到了各自的家庭。
　
　　“我是一半一半。”西莫说，“爸爸是一个麻瓜，妈妈直到结婚以后才告诉爸爸自己是个女巫。可把他吓得不轻。”
　
　　大家都哈哈大笑。
　
　　“那你呢，纳威？”罗恩问。
　
　　“哦，我是由奶奶带大的，她是个女巫。”纳威说，“不过这么多年来我们家一直把我当成麻瓜。我的阿尔吉伯父总想趁人不备，想方设法逼我露一手法术
——有一次他把我从黑湖码头推了下去，差点儿把我淹死——结果什么事也没有发生。直到我八岁那年，有一天我阿尔吉伯父过来喝茶，他把我的脚脖子朝上从楼上窗口吊了下去，正好我的艾妮伯母递给他一块蛋白蛋糕。他一失手，没有拿稳我。我自己弹了起来——飞过整个花园，摔到马路上。他们都高兴极了。艾妮伯母甚至高兴得哭了起来。你要是能看看我接到入学通知书时他们脸上的表情就好了，你看，他们原以为我的魔法功力不够，不能进这所学校呢。我的阿尔吉伯父一时高兴，还买了一只蟾蜍送给我呢。”
　
　　哈利的另一边，珀西韦斯莱和赫敏正在议论他们的功课（“我真希望直截了当，要学的东西太多了，我对变形术特别感兴趣。你知道，把一样东西变成另一样东西，当然，应该是非常困难……”；“你应当从小的东西变起，比如把火柴变成针什么的……”）。
　
　　哈利浑身热起来，想睡觉，但又抬头看了看主宾席。海格正举杯狂饮。麦格教授在跟邓布利多教授说着什么。头上裹着可笑围巾的奇洛教授正跟一位一头油腻黑发、鹰钩鼻、皮肤蜡黄的老师说话。
　
　　事情发生在一瞬间。鹰钩鼻老师越过奇洛教授的围巾直视哈利的眼睛——哈利顿感他前额上的那道伤疤一阵灼痛。
　
　　“哎呀！”哈利用一只手捂住前额。
　
　　“怎么了？”珀西问。
　
　　“没……没什么。”
　
　　灼痛像来时一样，刹那间就消失了。挥之不去的是哈利从那位老师目光中得到的感受，他觉得那位老师对他没有一点儿好感。
　
　　“跟奇洛教授讲话的那位老师是谁？”他问珀西。
　
　　“哦，奇洛教授你已经认识了，他那么紧张并不奇怪。那位是斯内普教授，教魔药学，但他不愿意教这门课——大家都知道他眼馋奇洛教授的工作。斯内普对黑魔法可是大大在行。”
　
　　哈利注视了斯内普片刻，但斯内普没有再看他。最后，布丁也消失了，邓布利多教授又站了起来。餐厅也复归肃静。
　
　　“哦，现在大家都吃饱了，喝足了，我要再对大家说几句话。在学期开始的时候，我要向大家提出几点注意事项。
　
　　“一年级新生注意，校园里的树林一律禁止学生进入。我们有些老班的同学也要好好记住这一点。”
　
　　邓布利多闪亮的目光朝韦斯莱孪生兄弟那边扫了一下。
　
　　“再有，管理员费尔奇先生也要我提醒大家，课间不要在走廊里施魔法。
　
　　“魁地奇球员的审核工作将在本学期的第二周举行。凡有志参加学院代表队的同学请与霍琦夫人联系。
　
　　“最后，我必须告诉大家，凡不愿遭遇意外、痛苦惨死的人，请不要进入四楼靠右边的走廊。”
　
　　哈利哈哈大笑，但笑的人毕竟只有少数几个。
　
　　“他不是认真的吧？”哈利悄声问珀西。
　
　　“不可能，”珀西朝邓布利多皱起眉头说，“奇怪的是凡不准许我们去的地方，他通常都说明原因，比如，树林里有许多危险的野兽，这一点大家都知道。我想他至少该对我们的级长讲清楚。”
　
　　“现在，在大家就寝之前，让我们一起来唱校歌！”邓布利多大声说。
　
　　哈利发现其他老师的笑容似乎都僵住了。
　
　　邓布利多将魔杖轻轻一弹，魔杖中就飘飞出一条长长的金色彩带，在高高的餐桌上空像蛇一样扭动盘绕出一行行文字。
　
　　“每人选择自己喜欢的曲调。”邓布利多说，“预备，唱！”
　
　　于是全体师生放声高唱起来：
　
　　霍格沃茨，
　　霍格沃茨，
　　霍格沃茨，
　　霍格沃茨，
　　请教给我们知识，
　　不论我们是谢顶的老人还是跌伤膝盖的孩子，
　　我们的头脑可以接纳一些有趣的事物。
　　因为现在我们头脑空空，
　　充满空气，
　　死苍蝇和鸡毛蒜皮，
　　教给我们一些有价值的知识，
　　把被我们遗忘的，
　　还给我们，
　　你们只要尽全力，
　　其他的交给我们自己，
　　我们将努力学习，
　　直到化为粪土。
　
　　大家七零八落地唱完了这首校歌。只有韦斯莱家的孪生兄弟仍随着《葬礼进行曲》徐缓的旋律继续歌唱。邓布利多用魔杖为他们俩指挥了最后几个小节，等他们唱完，他的掌声最响亮。
　
　　“音乐啊，”他揩了揩眼睛说，“比我们在这里所做的一切都更富魅力！现在是就寝的时间了。大家回宿舍去吧。”
　
　　格兰芬多的一年级新生跟着珀西，穿过嘈杂的人群，走出餐厅，登上大理石楼梯。哈利的两腿又像灌了铅似的，不过这次是因为他太累，而且吃得太饱。他实在太困了。因此当走廊画像上的人在他们经过时喁喁私语，指指点点，当珀西两次带领他们穿过暗藏在滑动挡板和垂挂的帷幔后边的门时，他甚至一点儿也没有感到吃惊。他们哈欠连天，拖着沉重的脚步又爬了许多楼梯。啥利正在纳闷，不知他们还要走多久，这时，前边的人突然停了下来。
　
　　在他们前边，一捆手杖在半空中飘荡，珀西距后面的人仅一步之遥，于是后面的人都纷纷朝他扑倒下去。
　
　　“是皮皮鬼，”珀西小声对一年级的新生们说，“一个专门喜欢恶作剧的幽灵。”他又抬高嗓门说：“皮皮鬼——显形吧。”
　
　　回答他的是响亮、刺耳、像气球泄气似的噗噗的响声。
　
　　“你是要我去找血人巴罗吗？”
　
　　噗的一声，突然冒出一个小矮人，一对邪恶的黑眼睛，一张大嘴，盘腿在半空中飘荡，双手牢牢抓着那捆手杖。“嗬嗬嗬！”他咯咯地奸笑，“原来是讨厌的一年级的小鬼头啊！太好玩了！”
　
　　他突然朝他们猛扑过来。他们一下子惊呆了。
　
　　“走开，皮皮鬼，不然我去告诉血人巴罗，我可不是开玩笑的！”珀西大吼道。
　
　　皮皮鬼伸出舌头，不见了。手杖正好砸在纳威头上。他们听见他腾空而去，飞过时盔甲铿锵作响。
　
　　“你们应当对皮皮鬼有所防备。”珀西说，领着大家继续朝前走，“血人巴罗是惟一能降住他的，他甚至连我们这些级长的话都听不进去。我们到了。”
　
　　走廊尽头挂着一幅画像，画像上一个非常富态的女人穿着一身粉色的衣服。
　
　　“口令？”她说。
　
　　“龙渣。”珀西说。
　
　　只见这幅画摇摇晃晃朝前移去，露出墙上的一个圆形洞口。他们都从墙洞里爬了过去——纳威还得有人拉他一把——之后，他们就发现已经来到格兰芬多的公共休息室了。这是一个舒适的圆形房间，摆满了软绵绵的扶手椅。
　
　　珀西指引姑娘们走进一扇门，去往她们的寝室，然后再带男生们走进另一道门。
　
　　在一部螺旋形的楼梯顶上——他们显然是在一座塔里——他们终于找到了自己的铺位：五张带四根帷柱的床，垂挂着深红色法兰绒幔帐。他们的箱子早已送了上来。他们已精疲力竭，不想再多说话，一个个换上睡衣就倒下睡了。

　　“今天的伙食太丰盛了，是吧？”罗恩隔着幔帐对哈利小声说。“走开，斑斑！它在啃我的床单呢。”
　
　　哈利本想问罗恩吃没吃糖浆饼，可没等开口就睡着了。
　
　　也许是哈利吃得过饱的缘故，他做了一个非常奇怪的梦。他头上顶着奇洛教授的大围巾，那围巾一个劲地絮絮叨叨，对他说，应当立刻转到斯莱特林去，因为那是命中注定的。哈利告诉围巾他不想去斯莱特林；围巾变得越来越重，他想把它扯掉，但却箍得他头痛……他在挣扎的时候，马尔福在一旁看着他，哈哈大笑；接着马尔福变成了鹰钩鼻老师斯内普；斯内普的笑声更响，也更冷了……只见一道绿光突然一闪，哈利惊醒了，一身冷汗，不停地发抖。他翻过身去，又睡着了。第二天醒来时，一点儿也不记得这个梦了。
　

　
　　①流行于十六、十七世纪的一种环绕颈部的高而硬的圆领。

　

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　　CHAPTER EIGHT
　　THE POTIONS MASTER
　　There, look."
　　"Where?"
　　"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."
　　"Wearing the glasses?"
　　"Did you see his face?"
　　"Did you see his scar?"
　　Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. Harry wished they wouldn't, because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes.
　　There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk.
　　The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"
　　Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Harry and Ron managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing.
　　Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.
　　And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.
　　They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.
　　Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old
　　indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.
　　Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.
　　Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.
　　"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."
　　Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger had made any difference to her match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione a rare smile.
　　The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.
　　Harry was very relieved to find out that he wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron didn't have much of a head start.
　　Friday was an important day for Harry and Ron. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.
　　"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his porridge.
　　"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them -- we'll be able to see if it's true."
　　"Wish McGonagall favored us, " said Harry. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.
　　Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.
　　Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate. Harry tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:
　　Dear Harry,
　　I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three?
　　I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig.
　　Hagrid
　　Harry borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled Yes, please, see you later on the back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again.
　　It was lucky that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to him so far.
　　At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry -- he hated him.
　　Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.
　　Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.
　　"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new -- celebrity."
　　Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.
　　"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word -- like Professor McGonagall, Snape had y caught every word -- like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
　　More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.
　　"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
　　Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand had shot into the air.
　　"I don't know, sit," said Harry.
　　Snape's lips curled into a sneer.
　　"Tut, tut -- fame clearly isn't everything."
　　He ignored Hermione's hand.
　　"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
　　Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter.
　　"I don't know, sit." "Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. He had looked through his books at the Dursleys', but did Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?
　　Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.
　　"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
　　At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.
　　"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"
　　A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus's eye, and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased.
　　"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"
　　There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."
　　Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.
　　"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"
　　Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.
　　"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.
　　"You -- Potter -- why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."
　　This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind their cauldron.
　　"Doi* push it," he muttered, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."
　　As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry's mind was racing and his spirits were low. He'd lost two points for Gryffindor in his very first week -- why did Snape hate him so much? "Cheer up," said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?"
　　At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.
　　When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang -- back."
　　Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.
　　"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."
　　He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.
　　There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.
　　"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.
　　"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.
　　"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."
　　The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Harry and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first -lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.
　　Harry and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Fitch "that old git."
　　"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her -- Fitch puts her up to it."
　　Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.
　　"But he seemed to really hate me."
　　"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"
　　Yet Harry couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that.
　　"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot -- great with animals."
　　Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:
　　GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST
　　Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.
　　Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.
　　"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.
　　Harry remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date.
　　"Hagrid!" said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"
　　There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes this time. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?
　　As Harry and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell Harry?
　　CHAPTER NINE
　　THE MIDNIGHT DUEL
　　Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, but that was before he met Draco Malfoy.
　　 Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn't have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday -- and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.
　　"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."
　　He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.
　　"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."
　　Malfay certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Harry had caught Ron prodding Dean's poster of West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move.
　　Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.
　　Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book -- not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.
　　Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.
　　A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.
　　"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things -- this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red -- oh..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet,
　　"You've forgotten something..."
　　Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.
　　Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfay, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.
　　"What's going on?"
　　"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."
　　Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.
　　"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.
　　At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.
　　The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.
　　Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.
　　"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."
　　Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.
　　"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'
　　"UPF everyone shouted.
　　Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.
　　Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.
　　"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle -- three -- two --"
　　But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.
　　"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle -- twelve feet -- twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and --
　　WHAM -- a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.
　　Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.
　　"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy -- it's all right, up you get.".
　　She turned to the rest of the class.
　　"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."
　　Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.
　　No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.
　　"Did you see his face, the great lump?"
　　The other Slytherins joined in.
　　"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.
　　"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."
　　"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."
　　The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.
　　"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.
　　Malfoy smiled nastily.
　　"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find -- how about -- up a tree?"
　　"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"
　　Harry grabbed his broom.
　　"No!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move -- you'll get us all into trouble."
　　Harry ignored her. Blood was pounding in his ears. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him -and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he'd found something he could do without being taught -- this was easy, this was wonderful. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.
　　He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned.
　　"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!" "Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.
　　Harry knew, somehow, what to do. He leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfay like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.
　　"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.
　　The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.
　　"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.
　　Harry saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down -- next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball -- wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching -- he stretched out his hand -- a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.
　　"HARRY POTTER!"
　　His heart sank faster than he'd just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. He got to his feet, trembling.
　　"Never -- in all my time at Hogwarts --"
　　Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "-- how dare you -- might have broken your neck --"
　　"It wasn't his fault, Professor --"
　　"Be quiet, Miss Patil
　　"But Malfoy --"
　　"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."
　　Harry caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as he left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward the castle. He was going to be expelled, he just knew it. He wanted to say something to defend himself, but there seemed to be something wrong with his voice. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at him; he had to jog to keep up. Now he'd done it. He hadn't even lasted two weeks. He'd be packing his bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when he turned up on the doorstep?
　　Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor McGonagall didn't say a word to him. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Harry trotting miserably behind her. Maybe she was taking him to Dumbledore. He thought of Hagrid, expelled but allowed to stay on as gamekeeper. Perhaps he could be Hagrid's assistant. His stomach twisted as he imagined it, watching Ron and the others becoming wizards, while he stumped around the grounds carrying Hagrid's bag.
　　Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.
　　"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"
　　Wood? thought Harry, bewildered; was Wood a cane she was going to use on him?
　　But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwicles class looking confused.
　　"Follow me, you two," said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Harry.
　　"In here."
　　 Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.
　　"Out, Peeves!" she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two boys.
　　"Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood -- I've found you a Seeker."
　　Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.
　　"Are you serious, Professor?"
　　"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The boy's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"
　　Harry nodded silently. He didn't have a clue what was going on, but he didn't seem to be being expelled, and some of the feeling started coming back to his legs.
　　"He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor McGonagall told Wood. "Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."
　　 Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once.
　　"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" he asked excitedly.
　　"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.
　　"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, now walking around Harry and staring at him. "Light -- speedy -- we'll have to get him a decent broom, Professor -- a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."
　　I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks...."
　　Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Harry.
　　"I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you."
　　Then she suddenly smiled.
　　"Your father would have been proud," she said. "He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."
　　"You're joking."
　　It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling Ron what had happened when he'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it.
　　"Seeker?" he said. "But first years never -- you must be the youngest house player in about a century, said Harry, shoveling pie into his mouth. He felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon. "Wood told me."
　　Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Harry.
　　"I start training next week," said Harry. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."
　　Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Harry, and hurried over.
　　"Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too -- Beaters."
　　"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," said Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."
　　"Anyway, we've got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."
　　"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you."
　　Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.
　　"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"
　　"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.
　　"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only -- no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"
　　"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"
　　Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.
　　"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."
　　When Malfoy had gone, Ron and Harry looked at each other. "What is a wizard's duel?" said Harry. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"
　　"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually, getting started at last on his cold pie. Catching the look on Harry's face, he added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."
　　"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"
　　"Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Ron suggested. "Excuse me."
　　They both looked up. It was Hermione Granger.
　　"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron.
　　Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry.
　　"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying --"
　　"Bet you could," Ron muttered.
　　"--and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."
　　"And it's really none of your business," said Harry.
　　"Good-bye," said Ron.
　　All the same, it wasn't what you'd call the perfect end to the day, Harry thought, as he lay awake much later listening to Dean and Seamus falling asleep (Neville wasn't back from the hospital wing). Ron had spent all evening giving him advice such as "If he tries to curse you, you'd better dodge it, because I can't remember how to block them." There was a very good chance they were going to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris, and Harry felt he was pushing his luck, breaking another school rule today. On the other hand, Malfoys sneering face kept looming up out of the darkness - this was his big chance to beat Malfoy face-to-face. He couldn't miss it.
　　"Half-past eleven," Ron muttered at last, "we'd better go."
　　They pulled on their bathrobes, picked up their wands, and crept across the tower room, down the spiral staircase, and into the Gryffindor common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. They had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, "I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."
　　A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown.
　　"You!" said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!"
　　"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped, "Percy -- he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."
　　Harry couldn't believe anyone could be so interfering.
　　"Come on," he said to Ron. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole.
　　Hermione wasn't going to give up that easily. She followed Ron through the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose.
　　"Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."
　　"Go away." "All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so --"
　　But what they were, they didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor tower.
　　"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.
　　"That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go, we 3 re going to be late."
　　They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them.
　　"I'm coming with you," she said.
　　"You are not."
　　"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all three of us I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."
　　"You've got some nerve --" said Ron loudly.
　　"Shut up, both of you!" said Harry sharply. I heard something."
　　It was a sort of snuffling.
　　"Mrs. Norris?" breathed Ron, squinting through the dark.
　　It wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer.
　　"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours, I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."
　　"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."
　　"How's your arm?" said Harry.
　　"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."
　　"Good - well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later --"
　　"Don't leave me!" said Neville, scrambling to his feet, "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."
　　Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville.
　　"If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you.
　　Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Harry hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned them all forward.
　　They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Harry expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.
　　Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry took out his wand in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once. The minutes crept by.
　　"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.
　　Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Harry had only just raised his wand when they heard someone speak -and it wasn't Malfoy.
　　"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."
　　It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Harry waved madly at the other three to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.
　　"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."
　　"This way!" Harry mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run -he tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armor.
　　The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.
　　"RUN!" Harry yelled, and the four of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following -- they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going -- they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.
　　"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.
　　I -- told -you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, "I -- told -- you."
　　"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Ron, "quickly as possible."
　　"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you -- Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."
　　Harry thought she was probably right, but he wasn't going to tell her that.
　　"Let's go."
　　It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.
　　It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.
　　"Shut up, Peeves -- please -- you'll get us thrown out."
　　Peeves cackled.
　　"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."
　　"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."
　　"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."
　　"Get out of the way," snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves this was a big mistake.
　　"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR"
　　Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door -- and it was locked.
　　"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!" They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves's shouts.
　　"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, 'Alohomora!"
　　The lock clicked and the door swung open -- they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.
　　"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."
　　"Say 'please."'
　　"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"
　　"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.
　　"All right -please."
　　"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.
　　"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay -- get off, Neville!" For Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry's bathrobe for the last minute. "What?"
　　Harry turned around -- and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, he was sure he'd walked into a nightmare -- this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.
　　They weren't in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.
　　They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching
　　and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.
　　It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.
　　Harry groped for the doorknob -- between Filch and death, he'd take Filch.
　　They fell backward -- Harry slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn't see him anywhere, but they hardly cared -- all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.
　　"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their bathrobes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.
　　"Never mind that -- pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.
　　It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as if he'd never speak again.
　　"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."
　　Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again. "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on.
　　"The floor?" Harry suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."
　　"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something."
　　She stood up, glaring at them.
　　I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed -- or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."
　　Ron stared after her, his mouth open.
　　"No, we don't mind," he said. "You'd think we dragged her along, wouldn't you.
　　But Hermione had given Harry something else to think about as he climbed back into bed. The dog was guarding something.... What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide -- except perhaps Hogwarts.
　　It looked as though Harry had found out where the grubby littie package from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.

第八章　魔药课老师
　
　

　
　　“就在那边，快看。”
　
　　“哪边？”
　
　　“在高个红头发男生旁边。”
　
　　“那个戴眼镜的？”
　
　　“你看见他的脸了吗？”
　
　　“看见他那道伤疤了吗？”
　
　　第二天，哈利走出寝室，这些窃窃私语就一直紧追着他。学生们在教室外排着长队，个个踮着脚尖，想一睹他的真面目。在走廊里，他们从他身边走过去，又折回来，死死地盯着他看。哈利希望他们不要这样，因为他要集中注意力寻找去教室的路。
　
　　霍格沃茨的楼梯总共有一百四十二处之多。它们有的又宽又大；有的又窄又小，而且摇摇晃晃；有的每逢星期五就通到不同的地方；有些上到半截，一个台阶会突然消失，你得记住在什么地方应当跳过去。另外，这里还有许多门，如果你不客客气气地请它们打开，或者确切地捅对地方，它们是不会为你开门的；还有些门根本不是真正的门，只是一堵堵貌似是门的坚固的墙壁。想要记住哪些东西在什么地方很不容易，因为一切似乎都在不停地移动。画像上的人也不断地互访，而且哈利可以肯定，连甲胄都会行走。
　
　　你拿幽灵们也没有办法。常常是当你正要开一扇门时，一个幽灵突然从门后蹿出来，吓你一大跳。差点没头的尼克当然乐意为格兰芬多的新生们指路；可如果你上课已经要迟到，但偏偏又碰上喜欢恶作剧的皮皮鬼，那就比碰到上了锁的两道门外加一道机关重重的楼梯更加难办了。他会把废纸篓扣到你头上，抽掉你脚下的地毯，朝你扔粉笔头，或是偷偷跟在你背后，趁你看不见的时候，抓住你的鼻子大声尖叫：“揪住你的鼻子喽！”
　
　　如果还有什么比皮皮鬼更糟糕的，那就要数管理员阿格斯费尔奇了。开学的第一天早上，罗恩和哈利就跟费尔奇之间产生了芥蒂。费尔奇发现他们硬要闯一道门，而那道门正好是通往四楼禁区走廊的入口。费尔奇不相信他们是迷了路，认为他们故意要闯，便威胁着要把他们锁进地牢，幸亏奇洛教授刚好经过这里，帮他们解了围。
　
　　费尔奇养了一只猫，名叫洛丽丝夫人。这只骨瘦如柴、毛色暗灰的活物长着像费尔奇那样灯泡似的鼓眼睛。它经常独自在走廊里巡逻。如果当它的面犯规，即使一个脚趾尖出线，它也会飞快地跑去找费尔奇。两分钟后，费尔奇就会吭哧吭哧、连吁带喘地跑过来。费尔奇比谁都清楚校园里的秘密通道（也许韦斯莱家的孪生兄弟除外），而且会像幽灵一样冷不丁蹿出来。同学们对他恨之入骨，许多人都恨不得照他的洛丽丝夫人狠狠地踹上一脚。
　
　　然后，一旦你找到教室，那就要面对课程本身了。哈利很快发现除了挥动你的魔杖，念几句好玩的咒语之外，魔法还有许多很高深的学问呢。
　
　　每星期三晚上，他们都要用望远镜观测星空，学习不同星星的名称和行星运行的轨迹。一周三次，他们都要由一个叫斯普劳特的矮胖女巫带着到城堡后边的温室去研读药草学，学习如何培育这些奇异的植物和菌类并了解它们的用途。
　
　　最令人厌烦的课程大概要算魔法史了，这也是惟一由幽灵教授的课程。想当年宾斯教授在教员休息室的壁炉前睡着了，第二天早上去上课时竟忘记带上自己的身体，足见宾斯教授确实已经很老了。上课时宾斯教授用单调乏味的声音不停地讲，学生们则潦潦草草地记下人名和日期，把恶人墨瑞克和怪人尤里克也搞混了。
　
　　教授魔咒的是一位身材小得出奇的男巫弗立维教授，上课时他只得站在一摞书上，这才够得着讲桌。开始上第一堂课时，他拿出名册点名，念到哈利的名字时，他激动得尖叫了一声，倒在地上不见了。
　
　　麦格教授跟他们不一样。哈利没有看错。他一眼就看出这位教授不好对付。她严格、聪明，他们刚坐下来上第一堂课她就给他们来了个下马威。
　
　　“变形术是你们在霍格沃茨课程中最复杂也是最危险的法术。”她说，“任何人要在我的课堂上调皮捣蛋，我就请他出去，永远不准他再进来。我可是警告过你们了。”
　
　　然后，她把她的讲桌变成了一头猪，然后又变了回来。学生们个个都被吸引了，恨不能马上开始学，可他们很快就明白，要把家具变成动物，还需要好长一段时间呢。他们记下了一大堆复杂艰深的笔记之后，她发给他们每人一根火柴，开始让他们试着变成一根针。到下课的时候，只有赫敏格兰杰让她的火柴起了些变化；麦格教授让全班看火柴怎么变成针的，而且一头还很尖，又向赫敏露出了难得的微笑。
　
　　全班真正期待的课程是黑魔法防御术。可是奇洛教授这一课几乎成了一场笑话。他上课的教室里充满了一股大蒜味，人人都说这是为了驱走他在罗马尼亚遇到的一个吸血鬼，怕那个吸血鬼会回过头来抓他。他告诉他们，他的大围巾是一位非洲王子送给他的礼物，那位王子为了答谢他帮助他摆脱了还魂僵尸的纠缠，不过谁也说不上是真的相信他说的这个故事。首先，当西莫·斐尼甘急不可耐地问奇洛教授是怎么打败还魂僵尸的时候，教授满脸涨得通红，含含糊糊。说起了天气；其次，他们发现他那块大围巾也散发出一股怪味，韦斯莱家的孪生兄弟坚持说那里面肯定也塞满了大蒜。这样无论奇洛教授走到哪里，他都有了防护。
　
　　哈利发现自己和大家也不过五十步与百步之差，于是大大地松了一口气。这里许多人像他一样，来自麻瓜家庭，根本没有想到自己会是男女巫师。他们需要学习的东西太多，就连像罗恩这样巫术世家出身的人也不见得领先多少。
　
　　星期五，对哈利和罗恩来说是一个关键的日子。他们终于找到了去餐厅吃早饭的路，中途没有迷失方向。
　
　　“今天我们都有哪些课？”哈利一边往麦片粥里放糖，一边问罗恩。
　
　　“跟斯莱特林的学生们一起上两节魔药课。”罗恩说，“斯内普是斯莱特林学院院长，都说他偏向自己的学生，现在倒可以看看是不是真是这样。”
　
　　“但愿麦格教授也能偏向我们。”哈利说。
　
　　麦格教授是格兰芬多学院的院长，但她昨天照样给他们留了一大堆作业。
　
　　就在这时，邮件到了。现在哈利已经习惯了。可是在第一天吃早饭的时候。百十来只猫头鹰突然飞进餐厅，着实把他吓了一跳。这些猫头鹰围着餐桌飞来飞去，直到找到各自的主人，把信件或包裹扔到他们腿上。
　
　　到目前为止，海德薇还没有给哈利带来过任何东西。它有时飞进来啄一下哈利的耳朵，讨上一小口吐司，然后飞回猫头鹰屋，和校园里的其它猫头鹰一起睡觉去了。但是今天早上，它却扑棱着翅膀落到果酱盘和糖罐之间，将一张字条放到了哈利的餐盘上。哈利即刻把字条打开。
　
　　亲爱的哈利：（字迹非常潦草零乱）我知道你星期五下午没有课，不知能否在午后三时前后过来和我一起喝茶？我很想知道你第一周的情况。请让海德薇给我一个回音。海格
　
　　哈利向罗恩借来羽毛笔在字条背面匆匆写道：好的，我很乐意，不久见。然后就让海德薇飞走了。
　
　　幸好哈利还有跟海格一起喝茶这么个盼头，因为魔药课是哈利进霍格沃茨之后最厌烦的一门课程。
　
　　在开学宴会上，哈利就感觉到斯内普教授不喜欢他。第一节魔药课结束的时候，他才知道自己想错了。斯内普教授不是不喜欢他，而是恨他。
　
　　魔药课是在一间地下教室里上课。这里要比上边城堡主楼阴冷。沿墙摆放着玻璃罐，里面浸泡的动物标本更令你瑟瑟发抖。
　
　　斯内普和弗立维一样，一上课就拿起名册，而且也像弗立维一样，点到哈利的名字时总停下来。
　
　　“哦，是的，”他小声说，“哈利波特，这是我们新来的……鼎鼎大名的人物啊。”
　
　　德拉科马尔福和他的朋友克拉布和高尔用手捂着嘴吃吃地笑起来。斯内普点完名，便抬眼看着全班同学，眼睛像海格的一样乌黑，却没有海格的那股暖意。他的眼睛冷漠、空洞，使你想到两条漆黑的隧道。
　
　　“你们到这里来为的是学习这门魔药配制的精密科学和严格工艺。”他开口说，说话的声音几乎比耳语略高一些，但人人都听清了他说的每一个字。像麦格教授一样，斯内普教授也有不费吹灰之力能让教室秩序井然的威慑力量。“由于这里没有傻乎乎地挥动魔杖，所以你们中间有许多人不会相信这是魔法。我并不指望你们能真正领会那文火慢煨的大锅冒着白烟、飘出阵阵清香的美妙所在，你们不会真正懂得流入人们血管的液体，令人心荡神驰、意志迷离的那种神妙的魔力……我可以教会你们怎样提高声望，酿造荣耀，甚至阻止死亡——但必须有一条，那就是你们不是我经常遇到的那种笨蛋傻瓜才行。”
　
　　他讲完短短的开场白之后，全班哑然无声。哈利和罗恩扬了扬眉，交换了一下眼色。赫敏格兰杰几乎挪到椅子边上，朝前探着身子，看来是急于证明自己不是笨蛋傻瓜。
　
　　“波特！”斯内普突然说，“如果我把水仙根粉末加入艾草浸液，会得到什么？”
　
　　什么草根粉末放到什么溶液里？哈利看了罗恩一眼，罗恩跟他一样，也怔住了；赫敏的手臂高高地举到空中。
　
　　“我不知道，先生。”哈利说。
　
　　斯内普轻蔑地撇了撇嘴。
　
　　“啧，啧……看来名气并不能代表一切。”
　
　　斯内普有意不去理会赫敏高举的手臂。
　
　　“让我们再试一次吧。波特，如果我要你去给我找一块牛黄，你会到哪里去找？”
　
　　赫敏尽量在不离开座位的情况下，把手举得老高，哈利却根本不知道牛黄是什么。他尽量不去看马尔福、克拉布和高尔，他们三人笑得浑身发颤。
　
　　“我不知道，先生。”
　
　　“我想，你在开学前一本书也没有翻过，是吧，波特？”
　
　　哈利强迫自己直勾勾地盯着他那对冷漠的眼睛。在德思礼家时，他确实把所有的书都翻过了，但是难道斯内普能要求他把《千种神奇药草与蕈类》的内容都背下来吗？斯内普仍旧没有理会赫敏颤抖的手臂。
　
　　“波特，那你说说舟形乌头和狼毒乌头有什么区别？”
　
　　这时，赫敏站了起来，她的手笔直伸向地下教室的顶棚。
　
　　“我不知道，”哈利小声说，“不过，我想，赫敏知道答案，您为什么不问问她呢？”
　
　　有几个学生笑出声来。哈利碰到了西莫的目光，西莫朝他使了个眼色。斯内普当然很不高兴。
　
　　“坐下，”他对赫敏怒喝道，“让我来告诉你吧，波特，水仙根粉和艾草加在一起可以配制成一种效力很强的安眠药，就是一服生死水。牛黄是从牛的胃里取出来的一种石头，有极强的解毒作用。至于舟形乌头和狼毒乌头则是同一种植物，也统称乌头。明白了吗？你们为什么不把这些都记下来？”
　
　　这时突然响起一阵摸索羽毛笔和羊皮纸的沙沙声。在一片嘈杂声中，斯内普说：“波特，由于你顶撞老师，格兰芬多会为此被扣掉一分。”
　
　　魔药课继续上下去，但格兰芬多的学生们的处境并没有改善。斯内普把他们分成两人一组，指导他们混合调制一种治疗疥疮的简单药水。斯内普拖着他那件很长的黑斗篷在教室里走来走去，看他们称干荨麻，粉碎蛇的毒牙，几乎所有的学生都挨过批评，只有马尔福幸免，看来马尔福是斯内普偏爱的学生。正当他让大家看马尔福蒸煮带触角的鼻涕虫的方法多么完美时，地下教室里突然冒出一股酸性的绿色浓烟，传来一阵很响的咝咝声。纳威不知怎的把西莫的火锅烧成了歪歪扭扭的一块东西，锅里的药水泼到了石板地上，把同学们的鞋都烧出了洞。几秒钟内，全班同学都站到了凳子上，锅被打翻时，纳威浑身浸透了药水，这时他胳膊和腿上到处是红肿的疥疮，痛得他哇哇乱叫。
　
　　“白痴！”斯内普咆哮起来，挥起魔杖将泼在地上的药水一扫而光。“我想你大概是没有把锅从火上端开就把豪猪刺放进去了，是不是？”
　
　　纳威抽抽搭搭地哭起来，连鼻子上都突然冒出了许多疥疮。
　
　　“把他送到上面医院的病房去。”斯内普对西莫厉声说。接着他在哈利和罗恩身边转来转去，他们俩正好挨着纳威操作。“波特，你为什么不告诉他不要加进豪猪刺呢？你以为他出了错就显出你好吗？格兰芬多又因为你丢了一分。”
　
　　这也太不公平了，哈利正要开口辩解，罗恩在锅后边踢了他一脚。
　
　　“别胡来，”他小声说，“听说斯内普特别不讲理。”
　
　　一小时后，他们顺着阶梯爬出地下教室，哈利头脑里思绪翻滚，情绪低落。开学第一周格兰芬多就因为他被扣掉了两分，他不知道斯内普为什么这么恨他。
　
　　“打起精神来，”罗恩说，“斯内普经常扣弗雷德和乔治的分。我能跟你一起去见海格吗？”
　
　　三点差五分，他们离开城堡穿过田野走去。海格住在禁林边缘的一间小木屋里，大门前有一张石弓和一双橡胶套鞋。
　
　　哈利敲门时，他们听见屋里传来一阵紧张的挣扎声和几声低沉的犬吠。接着传来海格的说话声：“往后退，牙牙，往后退。”
　
　　海格把门开了一道缝，露出他满是胡须的大脸。
　
　　“等一等。”他说，“往后退，牙牙。”
　
　　海格把他们俩让了进去，一边拼命抓住一只庞大的黑色猎犬的项圈。小木屋只有一个房间。天花板上挂着火腿、野鸡，火盆里用铜壶烧着开水，墙角里放着一张大床，床上是用碎布拼接的被褥。
　
　　“不要客气。”海格说着，把牙牙放掉了。牙牙即刻纵身朝罗恩扑过去舔他的耳朵。像海格一样，牙牙显然也不像他的外表那样凶猛。
　
　　“这是罗恩。”哈利对海格说。
　
　　海格正忙着把开水倒进一只大茶壶里，一边把岩皮饼①往餐盘里放。
　
　　“又是一个韦斯莱家的小兄弟吧？”海格说，朝罗恩的满脸雀斑瞟了一眼。“为了把这对孪生兄弟赶出禁林，我几乎耗费了大半辈子的精力。”
　
　　岩皮饼差点把他们的牙都硌掉了。哈利和罗恩却装出很爱吃的样子，一边把这几天上课的情景讲给海格听。牙牙把头枕在哈利膝头上，口水把他的长袍都浸湿了一大片。
　
　　听海格管费尔奇叫“那个老饭桶”，哈利和罗恩很高兴。
　
　　“至于那只猫，那个叫洛丽丝夫人的，有朝一日我真想把她介绍给我的牙牙认识认识。你们知道吗，每次我去学校，无论到哪里它都跟着我，甩也甩不掉，准是费尔奇让它这么干的。”
　
　　哈利对海格讲了斯内普课上的事。海格跟罗恩一样，要哈利不要担心，因为斯内普几乎没有喜欢过任何学生。
　
　　“可他好像真的很恨我。”
　
　　“瞎说！”海格说，“他为什么要恨你？”
　
　　可哈利总觉得海格在说这话时有些有意回避他的目光。
　
　　“你的哥哥查理怎么样？”海格问罗恩，“我很喜欢他——他对动物很有办法。”
　
　　哈利怀疑海格有意转移话题。罗恩向海格讲查理研究龙的情况时，哈利发现茶壶暖罩下压着一张小纸片，那是《预言家日报》上剪下来的一段报道。
　
　　古灵阁非法闯入事件最新报道：有关七月三十一日古灵阁非法闯入事件的调查仍在继续进行。普遍认为这是不知名的黑势力男女巫师所为。古灵阁的妖精们今日再度强调未被盗走任何东西。被闯入者搜索过的地下金库事实上已于当日早些时候提取一空。一位古灵阁妖精发言人今日午后表示：金库中究竟存放何物，无可奉告，请勿干预此事为好。
　
　　哈利想起罗恩在火车上就对他说过有人试图抢劫古灵阁，不过罗恩没有告诉他具体日期。
　
　　“海格！”哈利说，“古灵阁闯入事件发生的那一天正好是我的生日。很可能事情发生的时候我们正好也在那里！”
　
　　毫无疑问，海格这次确实不敢正视哈利的眼睛。他只哼了一声，又递给哈利一块岩皮饼。
　
　　哈利把这篇报道又看了一遍。被闯入者搜索过的地下金库事实上已于当日早些时候提取一空。如果拿走那个脏兮兮的小包就意味着提取一空的话，那么海格就已经把713号地下金库提取一空了。那个脏兮兮的小包难道就是闯入者要找的东西吗？
　
　　哈利和罗恩步行回城堡吃晚饭时，他们的衣袋里沉甸甸地装满了岩皮饼，出于礼貌，他们不好意思拒绝。
　
　　哈利觉得与海格喝了一下午茶后，需要他思考的问题要比这几天上课时需要思考的多得多了：海格及时拿到了那个小包吗？小包现在在什么地方？海格是不是知道一些关于斯内普的事情，但又不愿意告诉他呢？
　

　
　　①一种表面粗硬，外形不规则的小甜饼。

　

　
　

　
　
　
第九章　午夜决斗
　
　

　
　　哈利以前一直不相信，他竟然会认识一个男孩，他恨这家伙比恨达力还要厉害，他是在遇到德拉科马尔福之后才相信这一点的。不过，一年级的格兰芬多学生只有药剂课是和斯莱特林的学生在一起上的，所以他们要忍受马尔福还不算困难。至少起初是这样的。
　
　　后来有一天，他们发现格兰芬多的公共休息室里贴出了一张启事，看了之后全都唉声叹气。星期四就要开始上飞行课了——格兰芬多的学生要和斯莱特林的学生一起上课。
　
　　“真倒霉，”哈利沮丧地说，“果然不出我的所料。骑着一把飞天扫帚在马尔福面前出洋相。”
　
　　他一直在盼望学习飞行，这愿望比什么都强烈。
　
　　“你是不是会出洋相还不一定呢。”罗恩理智地说，“我知道马尔福总是吹嘘，说他玩魁地奇玩得特棒，但我敢打赌他只是在说大话。”
　
　　马尔福整天大谈特谈飞行。他大声抱怨说一年级新生没有资格参加学院魁地奇球队，他还讲了许多冗长的、自吹自擂的故事，最后总是以他惊险地躲过一架麻瓜的直升飞机为结束。
　
　　不过，说这种大话的并不止他一个人：听西莫斐尼甘的口气，似乎他童年时代的大部分时间都是骑着飞天扫帚在旷野里飞来飞去。就连罗恩，只要有人愿意听，也会说起他有一次骑着查理的破扫帚，差点儿撞上了一架悬挂式滑翔机。
　
　　每个来自巫师家庭的人都喋喋不休地谈论着魁地奇。罗恩为了一场足球，已经与同宿舍的迪安托马斯大吵了一架。罗恩不明白，全场只有一只球，而且谁也不许飞，这种比赛有什么令人激动的。哈利无意中看见罗恩用手在迪安那张西哈姆足球队的海报上捅来捅去，想让队员们都动起来。
　
　　纳威这辈子还没有骑过飞天扫帚呢，因为他奶奶从来不让他接近飞天扫帚。哈利私下里觉得他奶奶是很有道理的，纳威即使两只脚都老老实实地踩在地上，还总能制造层出不穷的事故呢。
　
　　对于飞行，赫敏格兰杰差不多和纳威一样紧张。这种本领你是不可能从书上看到并用心记住的——她不是没有试过。星期四早晨吃早饭的时候，她不停地对他们念叨她从一本名叫《魁地奇溯源》的图书馆藏书中看来的一些飞行指导，把他们烦得够呛。纳威则全神贯注地听着她说的每一个字，眼巴巴地希望听到一点有用的知识，待会儿可以帮助他牢牢地坐在飞天扫帚上。不过，当邮差到来打断了赫敏的演讲时，其他人还是感到非常高兴的。
　
　　自从上次海格的那封短信之后，哈利一直再没有收到过信，不用说，这一点马尔福很快就注意到了。马尔福的猫头鹰倒是经常给他从家里捎来大包小包的糖果，他总是在斯莱特林的饭桌旁得意洋洋地把它们拆开。
　
　　一只猫头鹰从纳威的奶奶那里给他带来了一个小包裹。纳威激动地打开，拿给大家看一个大弹子那么大的玻璃球，里面仿佛充满了白色的烟雾。
　
　　“这是记忆球！”他解释说，“奶奶知道我总是没记性——它会告诉你是不是有什么事情你忘记做了。瞧，你把它紧紧握住，像这样，如果它变红了——哦
……”他顿时拉长了脸，因为记忆球突然红得发亮，“……你就是忘记了什么事情……”
　
　　纳威拼命回忆他忘记了什么，就在这时，德拉科马尔福经过格兰芬多院的饭桌，猛地将记忆球从他手里夺了过去。
　
　　哈利和罗恩一跃而起。出于某种原因，他们多少有些希望跟马尔福干一架。可是，麦格教授总能比别的老师更敏锐地察觉到出了乱子，她一眨眼的工夫就出现了。
　
　　“怎么回事？”
　
　　“马尔福抢了我的记忆球，教授。”
　
　　马尔福阴沉着脸，迅速把记忆球扔回到桌上。
　
　　“等着瞧。”他说完便匆匆溜走了，克拉布和高尔紧随其后。
　
　　那天下午三点半，哈利、罗恩和格兰芬多的其他学生匆匆走下台阶，来到门前的场地上，准备上他们的第一堂飞行课。这是一个晴朗的、有微风的日子，当他们快步走下倾斜的草地、向场地对面一处平坦的草坪走去时，小草在他们脚下微微起着波浪。草坪那边就是森林，远处黑黑的树木在风中摇曳。
　
　　斯莱特林的学生都已经在那里了，还有二十把飞天扫帚整整齐齐地排放在地上。哈利曾经听弗雷德和乔治韦斯莱抱怨过学校里的飞天扫帚，说有的扫帚在你飞得太高时会簌簌发抖，还有的呢，总是微微地偏向左边。
　
　　他们的老师霍琦夫人来了。她一头短短的灰发，两只眼睛是黄色的，像老鹰的眼睛一样。
　
　　“好了，你们大家还等什么？”她厉声说道，“每个人都站到一把飞天扫帚旁边。快，快，抓紧时间。”
　
　　哈利低头看了一眼他的飞天扫帚，它又破又旧，一些枝子横七竖八地戳了出来。
　
　　“伸出右手，放在扫帚把的上方，”霍琦夫人在前面喊道，“然后说：‘起来！’”
　
　　“起来！”每个人都喊道。
　
　　哈利的扫帚立刻就跳到了他手里，但这样听话的扫帚只有少数几把。赫敏格兰杰的扫帚只是在地上打了个滚，而纳威的扫帚根本纹丝不动。哈利心想，也许扫帚也像马一样，能够看出你内心的胆怯。纳威的声音微微发颤，再明显不过地说明他希望稳稳地站在地面上。
　
　　接着，霍琦夫人向他们示范怎样骑上扫帚而不从头上滑下来。她在队伍里走来走去，给他们纠正手的握法。哈利和罗恩听见她批评马尔福一直做得不对。心里不由得暗暗高兴。
　
　　“好了，我一吹口哨，你们就两腿一蹬，离开地面，要用力蹬。”霍琦夫人说，“把扫帚拿稳，上升几英尺，然后身体微微前倾，垂直落回地面。听我的口哨——三——二——”
　
　　然而，纳威太紧张了，生怕被留在地面上，于是他不等哨子碰到霍琦夫人的嘴唇，就使劲一蹬，飞了上去。
　
　　“回来，孩子！”霍琦夫人喊道，可是纳威径直往上升，就像瓶塞从瓶子里喷出来一样——十二英尺——二十英尺。哈利看见他惊恐、煞白的脸望着下面飞速远去的地面，看见他张着大嘴喘气，从扫帚把一边滑下来，然后——砰——一声坠落，一声猛烈的撞击，纳威面朝下躺在地上的草丛中，缩成一团。他的飞天扫帚还在越升越高，然后开始缓缓地朝禁林方向飘去，消失不见了。
　
　　霍琦夫人弯腰俯视纳威，她的脸和纳威的一样惨白。
　
　　“手腕断了。”哈利听见她小声地说，“好了，孩子——没事儿了，你起来吧。”
　
　　她转身对班上其他同学说：“我送这孩子去医院，你们谁都不许动！把飞天扫帚放回原处，不然的话，不等你们来得及说一句‘魁地奇’，就被赶出霍格沃茨大门了。走吧，亲爱的。”
　
　　纳威脸上挂着一条条泪痕，他抓着手腕子，一瘸一拐地和霍琦夫人一同离去了。霍琦夫人用胳膊搂着他。
　
　　他们刚走得听不见了，马尔福就放声大笑起来。
　
　　“你们看见他那副面孔了吗，那个傻大个？”其他斯莱特林的学生也随声附和。
　
　　“闭嘴，马尔福。”帕瓦蒂佩蒂尔厉声地说。
　
　　“嗬，护着隆巴顿？”潘西帕金森说，她是一个长相丑陋的斯莱特林女生。“没想到你居然会喜欢胖乎乎的小泪包，佩蒂尔。”
　
　　“瞧！”马尔福说着，冲过去抓起草地上的什么东西，“是那个大傻瓜隆巴顿的奶奶捎给他的。”
　
　　他举起记忆球，它在阳光下闪闪发光。
　
　　“拿过来，马尔福。”哈利低声说。
　
　　大家都停止了说话，注视着。
　
　　马尔福丑恶地狞笑着。
　
　　“我想把它放在一个什么地方，让隆巴顿去捡。放在一棵树上，怎么样？”
　
　　“拿过来！”哈利大喊，可是马尔福已经跳上他的扫帚，起飞了。他以前的话并不是吹牛——他确实飞得好——他悬浮在与一棵栎树的树梢平行的高度，大声叫道；“过来拿吧，波特！”
　
　　哈利抓起他的扫帚。
　
　　“不行！”赫敏格兰杰喊道，“霍琦夫人叫我们不要动——你会给我们大家带来麻烦的。”
　
　　哈利没有理她。血撞得他的耳膜轰轰直响。他骑上飞天扫帚，用力蹬了一下地面，于是他升了上去，空气呼呼地刮过他的头发，长袍在身后呼啦啦地飘扬——他心头陡然一阵狂喜，意识到自己发现了一种他可以无师自通的技能——这么容易，这么美妙。他把飞天扫帚又抬起了一些，让它飞得更高。他听见她面上传来女孩子们的尖叫声和大喘气声，还听到罗恩发出的敬佩的喊叫。
　
　　他猛地把扫帚转过来，对着空中的马尔福。马尔福显得大吃一惊。
　
　　“拿过来，”哈利喊道，“不然我就把你从扫帚上撞下去。”
　
　　“哦，是吗？”马尔福说。他想发出嘲笑，但脸上的表情却很紧张。
　
　　哈利好像天生就知道应该怎么做。他将身体前倾，用双手紧紧抓住扫帚，于是，扫帚就像标熗一样朝马尔福射去。马尔福勉强闪身躲过；哈利又猛地调转回身，稳稳地抓住扫帚。下面有几个人在鼓掌。
　
　　“这里可没有克拉布和高尔为你保驾，马尔福。”哈利喊道。
　
　　马尔福似乎也产生了同样的想法。
　
　　“给，看你能不能接住！”他大叫一声，把玻璃球高高地扔向空中，然后迅速朝地面降落。
　
　　哈利看见玻璃球仿佛是以慢动作升上了天空，随即开始坠落。他前倾身体，把飞天扫帚指向下面。一眨眼的工夫，他就加速俯冲下去，追赶玻璃球。风在他耳边呼啸，混杂着下面观众的尖叫声，只见他伸出手去，在离地面一英尺的高度接住了玻璃球。他及时把扫帚把扳直，然后他轻轻倒在草地上，手心里稳稳地攥着那只记忆球。
　
　　“哈利波特！”
　
　　他的心突然往下一沉，比他刚才俯冲的速度还快。麦格教授正向他们跑来。哈利从地上站起来，浑身发抖。
　
　　“我在霍格沃茨这么多年……从来没有……”
　
　　麦格教授简直惊讶得说不出话来，她的眼镜片闪烁着愤怒的光芒，“你怎么敢……你会摔断脖子的……”
　
　　“不是他的错，教授……”
　
　　“住嘴，佩蒂尔小姐……”
　
　　“可是马尔福……”
　
　　“别说了，韦斯莱先生。好了，波特，跟我来。”
　
　　麦格教授大步朝城堡走去，哈利机械地跟在后面。他离开时发觉马尔福、克拉布和高尔脸上露出了得意的神情。他只知道他要被开除了。他想说几句话为自己辩护，但他的嗓子似乎出了毛病。麦格教授大步流星地朝前走，看也不看他一眼，他必须小跑着才能跟得上。他现在完了。他来了还不到两个星期。再过十分钟，他就要收拾东西滚蛋了。达力一家看见他出现在大门口，会说什么呢？
　
　　两人登上大门前的台阶，登上里面的大理石楼梯，麦格教授还是一言不发。她拧开一扇扇门，大步穿过一道道走廊，哈利可怜兮兮地跟在后面。教授大概是要带他去见邓布利多吧。他想起了海格，虽然被开除了，但还是获准作为狩猎场看守继续留在了学校里。也许他可以给海格当个助手。他仿佛看见自己拎着海格的口袋，拖着沉重的脚步在场地里走来走去，眼巴巴地看着罗恩和其他人成为巫师，他一想起这些就觉得胃拧成了一团。
　
　　麦格教授在一间教室外面停住脚步。她推开门，把头伸了进去。
　
　　“对不起，弗立维教授，可以让伍德出来一会儿吗？”
　
　　伍德？哈利迷惑不解地想，难道是木头拐杖，她要用它来教训他？①谁知伍德原来是一个人，一个高大结实的五年级男生，一脸茫然地走出弗立维的教室。
　
　　“你们两个，跟我走。”麦格教授说，三个人一起在走廊里大步前进，伍德好奇地打量着哈利。
　
　　“进去。”麦格教授指着一间教室叫他们进去，里面只有皮皮鬼一个人，正忙着在黑板上写骂人的话。
　
　　“出去，皮皮鬼！”她大吼一声。皮皮鬼把粉笔当啷一声扔进垃圾箱，然后骂骂咧咧地冲出教室。麦格教授把门重重地关上，转过身来，面对两个男孩。
　
　　“波特，这是奥利弗伍德。伍德……我替你发现了一个找球手。”
　
　　伍德脸上的表情从困惑转为喜悦。
　
　　“你当真吗，教授？”
　
　　“绝对当真。”麦格教授干脆地说，“这孩子是个天才。我从来没见过这样的事情。波特，你是第一次骑飞天扫帚吗？”
　
　　哈利默默地点点头，一点儿也不明白是怎么回事，但看来他不会被开除了，他的双腿又开始慢慢恢复了知觉。
　
　　“他俯冲五十英尺，伸手抓住了那东西，”麦格教授对伍德说，“一点儿皮肉划伤都没有。查理韦斯莱也做不到这点啊？”
　
　　伍德现在的表情，就好像他所有的梦想一下子全变成了现实。
　
　　“看过魁地奇比赛吗，波特？”麦格教授问。
　
　　“他的体型正适合当一个找球手，”伍德说，在哈利的周围绕着圈子打量着他，“轻盈……敏捷……我们必须给他弄一个像样的扫帚，教授……我看，就来一把光轮2000或横扫七星吧。”
　
　　“我要去跟邓布利多教授谈谈，看我们能不能破格使用一年级新生。确实，我们需要一支比去年更棒的魁地奇队。上次比赛被斯莱特林队打得惨败，我几个星期不敢和斯内普照面……”
　
　　麦格教授从眼镜上方严厉地瞅着哈利。
　
　　“我希望听到你在刻苦训练，波特，不然我就改变主意，要惩罚你了。”
　
　　接着，她又突然绽开笑容。
　
　　“你父亲会为你骄傲的，”她说，“他以前就是一个出色的魁地奇球员。”
　
　　“你在开玩笑。”
　
　　这是吃晚饭的时间，哈利对罗恩讲了他和麦格教授离开场地后发生的事情。罗恩正要把一块牛排腰子馅饼往嘴里送，送到一半就忘记了。
　
　　“找球手？”他说，“可是一年级学生从不……你一定是许多年以来年龄最小的院队选手了。”
　
　　“是一个世纪以来。”哈利说着，用手撮起馅饼塞进嘴里。经过下午这场惊心动魄的遭遇，他觉得特别饿。“伍德告诉我的。”
　
　　罗恩太诧异，太震惊了。他只是坐在那里，呆呆地望着哈利。
　
　　“我下星期开始训练。”哈利说，“千万别跟任何人说，伍德想保密呢。”
　
　　这时，弗雷德和乔治韦斯莱走进了饭厅。他们一眼看见哈利，便快步走了过来。
　
　　“好样儿的，”乔治低声说，“伍德告诉我们了。我们也是学院队的——是击球手。”
　
　　“告诉你们，我们今年肯定要拿下魁地奇杯。”弗雷德说，“自从查理走了之后，我们就没有赢过，不过今年，我们球队一定会大展辉煌的。你肯定很棒，哈利，伍德跟我们说这件事时，激动得简直语无伦次。”
　
　　“不过，我们得走了，李乔丹认为他发现了一条新的秘密通道，可以通到学校外面。”
　
　　“我猜就是马屁精格雷戈里雕像后面的那条通道吧，我们进校的第一个星期就发现了。再见。”
　
　　弗雷德和乔治刚刚离去，某个很不受欢迎的人就露面了：马尔福。
　
　　“在吃最后的一顿饭吗，波特？你什么时候乘火车返回麻瓜那里？”
　
　　“现在你回到地面上了，又有你的小不点儿朋友陪伴左右。你的胆子就大多了。”哈利冷冷地说。当然啦，克拉布和高尔根本不能算小不点儿，但由于主宾席上坐满了老师，他们俩不敢造次，只好阴沉着脸，把手指捏得吧吧晌。
　
　　“我随时愿意单独与你较量，”马尔福说，“如果你没意见，就在今晚。巫师之间的决斗。只用魔杖——不许接触。怎么啦？我猜，你还没听说过巫师决斗吧？”
　
　　“他当然听说过。”罗恩说着，突然转过身来。“我是他的助手，你的助手是谁？”
　
　　马尔福看着克拉布和高尔，把他俩挨个儿掂量一番。
　
　　“克拉布。”他说，“就在午夜，怎么样？我们在奖品陈列室和你们见面，那里从来不锁门。”
　
　　马尔福走后，罗恩和哈利面面相觑。
　
　　“巫师之间的决斗是怎么回事？”哈利问，“你说做我的助手，这又是什么意思？”
　
　　“噢，如果你死了，助手就接着上。”罗恩轻描淡写地说，终于又开始吃他那已经冷却的馅饼。他捕捉到了哈利脸上的神情，便又急忙补充道，“不过你知道，人们只有跟真正的巫师进行正规的决斗时才会死。你和马尔福充其量只能向对方发射发射火花。你们俩懂的魔法太少，不会真正伤着对方的。不过，我敢说他还以为你会拒绝呢。”
　
　　“如果我挥动魔杖，一点儿反应也没有，怎么办呢？”
　
　　“那就扔掉魔杖，对准他鼻子揍一拳。”罗恩建议道。
　
　　“对不起，打扰一下。”
　
　　他们俩抬头一看，原来是赫敏格兰杰。
　
　　“能不能让人在这里消消停停地吃饭？”罗恩说。
　
　　赫敏没有理他，却对哈利说：“我忍不住偷听了你和马尔福说的……”
　
　　“我就知道你会这样。”罗恩咕哝道。
　
　　“……夜里你绝对不能在学校乱逛，想想吧，如果你被抓住，会给格兰芬多丢掉多少分啊，而且你肯定会被抓住的。你真的太自私了。”
　
　　“这事真的与你无关。”哈利说。
　
　　“再见。”罗恩说。
　
　　以决斗来结束一天，这无论如何也不能算是美妙圆满的，哈利躺在床上想。他早就听见迪安和西莫进入了梦乡（纳威还没有从医院里回来）。罗恩一晚上都在给他出谋划策，例如：“如果他想给你念咒语，你最好躲开，因为我不记得怎样挡住咒语。”他们很可能会被费尔奇或洛丽丝夫人抓住，哈利觉得自己是在与命运作对，今天又要违反一条校规了。另一方面，马尔福讥讽的脸不断在黑暗里显现——这是哈利面对面打败马尔福的一个大好机会，他不能放过。
　
　　“十一点半了，”终于，罗恩低声说道，“我们得走了。”
　
　　他们穿上长袍，拿起魔杖，蹑手蹑脚地穿过城堡上的房间，走下旋转楼梯，进入格兰芬多的公共休息室。壁炉里还有一些余火在闪烁着微光，扶手椅仿佛都变成了一团团黑乎乎的影子。他们刚要走到肖像通道，就听见离他们最近的一张椅子上有人说话：“我不敢相信你竟然这么做，哈利。”
　
　　一盏灯噗的一闪亮了，是赫敏格兰杰。她穿着粉红色的睡袍，皱着眉头。
　
　　“你！”罗恩恼怒地说，“回去睡觉！”
　
　　“我差点儿就告诉你哥哥了，”赫敏不客气地回敬，“珀西——他是级长，他会阻止这一切的。”
　
　　哈利无法相信居然有这样好管闲事的人。“走吧。”他对罗恩说。他推开胖夫人的肖像，从洞口爬了进去。
　
　　赫敏可不会这么轻易让步。她跟着罗恩爬进洞口，像一只发怒的母鹅压低声音朝他们嚷嚷：“你难道不关心格兰芬多，只关心你自己吗？我不想让斯莱特林再赢得学院杯赛冠军，不想让你把我用转移咒语从麦格教授那里弄来的分数全部丢光。”
　
　　“走开。”
　
　　“好吧，不过我警告你，等你明天坐火车回家时，你别忘了我说的话，你真是太……”
　
　　至于太怎么样，他们就不知道了。赫敏转向胖夫人的肖像，想重新钻回去，却发现自己面对的画上已空空如也。胖夫人深夜出去串门儿了，赫敏被关在了格兰芬多城堡外面。
　
　　“哎呀，现在我怎么办呢？”她扯着嗓子问。
　
　　“那是你的问题。”罗恩说，“我们得走了，快要迟到了。”
　
　　还没等他们走到走廊尽头，赫敏就赶上来了。
　
　　“我和你们一起去。”她说。
　
　　“你不许去。”
　
　　“你们难道以为我会站在这外面，等费尔奇来把我抓住吗？如果他发现了我们三个人，我就把实情告诉他，就说我在试图劝阻你们，到时侯，你们可以为我的话作证。”
　
　　“你胆子倒不小……”罗恩大声说。
　
　　“闭嘴，你们两个！”哈利严厉地说，“我听见有声音。”
　
　　是一种呼哧呼哧的声音。
　
　　“是洛丽丝夫人吗？”罗恩屏住呼吸问道，眯起眼睛看着暗处。
　
　　不是洛丽丝夫人，是纳威。他蜷缩在地板上，睡得正香，但他们一走近，他就猛地惊醒了。“谢天谢地，你们找到了我！我在这外面待了好几个小时。我记不得那道新口令了，没法上床睡觉。”
　
　　“小声点儿，纳威。口令是‘猪鼻子’，可现在对你也没有用了。胖夫人不知到什么地方去了。”
　
　　“你的胳膊怎么样了！”哈利问道。
　
　　“没事儿，”纳威说着，举起胳膊给他们看。“庞弗雷夫人一眨眼就把它治好了。”
　
　　“不错……好了，纳威，你听着，我们要去一个地方，待会儿见……”
　
　　“别撇下我！”纳威说着，从地上爬了起来，“我不想一个人待在这里，血人巴罗的鬼魂已经两次从这里经过了。”
　
　　罗恩看了看表，又愤怒地瞪着赫敏和纳威。
　
　　“如果你们两个有谁害得我们被抓住了，我就一定要学会奇洛提到的那种妖怪咒，用在你们身上。”
　
　　赫敏张了张嘴，大概是想告诉罗恩怎样使用妖怪咒，可是哈利朝她“嘘”了一声，叫她安静，然后招呼大家快走。
　
　　他们沿着走廊轻快地走着，月光从高高的窗口洒进来，一道道地横在地上。
　
　　每一次拐弯，哈利都以为要撞上费尔奇或洛丽丝夫人了，还好，他们的运气不错。他们匆匆登上楼梯，来到三楼，蹑手蹑脚地朝奖品陈列室走去。马尔福和克拉布不在。陈列奖品的水晶玻璃柜在月光下熠熠闪亮。黑暗中，奖杯、盾牌、奖牌和雕像闪着银色和金色的光。四个人贴着墙向前移动，眼睛紧盯着房间两头的门，哈利拿出他的魔杖，以防马尔福突然冲进来，和他决斗。时间一分一秒过去。
　
　　“他迟到了，也许他因为害怕，不敢来了。”罗恩悄声说。
　
　　这时，隔壁房间里传来一个声音，吓得他们跳了起来。哈利刚举起魔杖，就听见有人说话了——不是马尔福。
　
　　“到处闻闻，我亲爱的，他们可能躲在哪个角落里。”
　
　　是费尔奇在对洛丽丝夫人说话。哈利吓坏了，疯狂地朝另外三个人挥动着魔杖，叫他们尽快地跟着他；他们悄没声儿地走向那扇远离费尔奇声音的门。纳威的长袍刚刚掠过拐角，他们就听见费尔奇走进了奖品陈列室。
　
　　“他们就在这里的什么地方，”他们听见他低声嘟哝，“大概躲起来了。”
　
　　“这边走！”哈利不出声地对大家说。
　
　　他们都吓傻了，悄悄儿地沿着一道摆满盔甲的走廊往前走，可以听见费尔奇离他们越来越近了。突然，纳威忍不住发出一声恐怖的尖叫，撒腿就跑……他被绊了一下，赶紧一把搂住罗恩的腰，两人一起跌倒在一套盔甲上。
　
　　顿时，咣啷啷，哗啦啦，那声音足以吵醒整个城堡。
　
　　“快跑！”哈利大喊一声，四个人顺着走廊全速跑去，不敢回头看费尔奇是不是跟上来了。
　
　　他们绕过门柱，跑过一道又一道走廊。哈利跑在最前面，他不知道他们在哪里，也不知道在往哪里跑。最后他们在上魔术课的教室附近出来了，他们知道，这里离奖品陈列室有好几英里呢。
　
　　“我想，我们已经把他甩掉了。”哈利喘着粗气说。他靠在冰冷的墙上，擦着额头上的汗。纳威弯着身子，气急败坏，呼哧呼哧地喘着。
　
　　“我……告诉过……你们，”赫敏气喘吁吁地说着，用手抓住胸前的衣缝，“我……告诉过……你们。”
　
　　“我们必须返回格兰芬多城堡，”罗恩说，“越快越好。”
　
　　“马尔福骗了你，”赫敏对哈利说，“你明白了吧？他根本不打算上那儿和你会面——费尔奇知道有人要去奖品陈列室，一定是马尔福向他透露了消息。”
　
　　哈利认为赫敏可能是对的，但他不想对她这么说。
　
　　“我们走吧。”
　
　　然而事情不那么简单。他们刚走了十来步，就听见一扇门的球形把手嘎啦啦一响，什么东西从他们面前的一间教室里蹿了出来。是皮皮鬼。他一看见他们，就开心地尖声怪叫。
　
　　“闭嘴，皮皮鬼……求求你……你会害得我们被开除的。”
　
　　皮皮鬼咯咯地笑着。
　
　　“讨厌的新生，半夜三更到处乱逛。啧，啧，啧，淘气，淘气，你们会被抓起来的。”
　
　　“不会的，只要你不出卖我们，皮皮鬼，求求你。”
　
　　“应该告诉费尔奇，应该。”皮皮鬼一本正经地说，但他眼睛里却闪烁着调皮的光芒。“这是为你们好，知道吗？”
　
　　“滚开。”罗恩凶狠地说，使劲打了皮皮鬼一下——这就酿成了大错。
　
　　“学生不睡觉！”皮皮鬼吼了起来，“学生不睡觉，在魔咒课的走廊里！”
　
　　他们一低头闪过皮皮鬼，没命地逃着，一直逃到走廊尽头，重重地撞在一扇门上——门是锁着的。
　
　　“完了！”罗恩呜咽着说。他们绝望地推着那扇门。“我们完蛋了！死到临头了！”
　
　　他们听见了脚步声，费尔奇正在循着皮皮鬼的声音尽快赶来。
　
　　“哦，快过来。”赫敏粗暴地说。她夺过哈利的魔杖，敲了敲门锁，低声说道：“阿拉霍洞开！”
　
　　锁咔哒一响，门突然开了——他们一拥而入，赶紧把门关上，将耳朵贴在上面，听着。
　
　　“他们往哪边跑了，皮皮鬼？”只听费尔奇说，“快点儿，告诉我。”
　
　　“说‘请’。”
　
　　“别跟我捣乱，皮皮鬼，快说，他们去哪儿了？”
　
　　“如果你不说‘请’，我就不会对你说什么话。”皮皮鬼用他那恼人的连哼带唱的声调说。
　
　　“好吧——请你告诉我。”
　
　　“什么话！哈哈！我告诉过你，如果你不说‘请’，我就不会对你说‘什么话’！哈哈！哈哈哈哈！”
　
　　他们听见皮皮鬼飞快地离去，费尔奇恼羞成怒地咒骂着。
　
　　“他以为这扇门是锁着的，”哈利低声说，“我想我们不会有事了。走开，纳威！”
　
　　纳威一直在拉扯哈利长袍的袖子。“怎么啦？”
　
　　哈利一转身——看见了，清清楚楚地看见了。一时间，他相信自己一定是走进了一场噩梦——在已经发生了这么多事情之后，这简直太过分了。
　
　　他们并不是像他以为的那样在一个房间里，他们是在一条走廊里，是四楼的那条禁止入内的走廊。现在他们知道这里为什么禁止入内了。
　
　　他们正面对着一条怪物般的大狗的眼睛，这条狗大得填满了从天花板到地板的所有空间。它有三个脑袋，三双滴溜溜转动的凶恶的眼睛，三个鼻子——正朝他们的方向抽搐、颤抖，还有三个流着口水的嘴巴，口水像黏糊糊的绳子，从泛黄的狗牙上挂落下来。
　
　　它一动不动地站在那里，六只眼睛都盯着他们。哈利知道，他们之所以还没死，惟一的原因就是他们的突然出现使它大吃了一惊。但它正在迅速回过神来，那一声声震耳欲聋的咆哮意味着什么，是再清楚不过的了。
　
　　哈利摸索着去拧门把手——在费尔奇和死亡之间，他宁愿选择费尔奇。
　
　　他们一步步后退——哈利砰地把门关上。他们回到走廊里，撒腿就跑，简直是在飞奔。费尔奇一定忙着到别处去寻找他们了，他们没有看见他的踪影，何况也根本顾不上了——他们只想着尽可能远地逃离那个怪物。他们一直跑到八楼胖夫人的肖像前才停住脚步。
　
　　“你们都上哪儿去了？”胖夫人问道，看着他们耷拉在肩膀上的长袍，以及他们大汗淋漓的通红脸庞。
　
　　“别问啦，‘猪鼻子，猪鼻子’。”哈利喘着气说，肖像向前旋转着开了。
　
　　他们跌跌撞撞地爬进公共休息室，浑身发抖地瘫倒在扶手椅里。
　
　　有好一会儿，谁都没有说话。纳威呢，他看上去似乎永远也不会说话了。
　
　　“他们到底想干什么？把那么一个玩艺儿关在学校里！”最后，罗恩说道，“如果有哪只狗需要训练，就是那只了。”
　
　　赫敏的气喘匀了，但她的坏脾气也回来了。
　
　　“你们，你们几个，长着眼睛是干什么用的？”她气冲冲地说，“你们没看见它站在什么上面吗？”
　
　　“地板上？”哈利猜测，“我没有看它的脚，我光顾着看它的脑袋了。”
　
　　“不，不是地板上。它站在一个活板门上。它显然是在看守什么东西。”
　
　　她站起身，愤怒地瞪着他们。
　
　　“我希望你们为自己感到得意。我们都差点被咬死——或者更糟，被学校开除。好了，如果你们不反对的话，我要去睡觉了。”
　
　　罗恩盯着她的背影，吃惊地张大嘴巴。
　
　　“去睡吧，我们不反对。”他说，“这叫什么事儿？就好像我们把她硬拉去似的。”
　
　　可是，赫敏的话使哈利回到床上后又陷入了沉思。那只狗在看守着什么——海格是怎么说的？如果你想藏什么东西，古灵阁是世界上最安全的地方——大概除了霍格沃茨吧。
　
　　看来，哈利似乎已经弄清了713号地下金库那只肮脏的小包裹的下落。
　

　
　　①英文里的姓氏“伍德”同时兼有“木头”的意思。
　

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配偶: 执素衣

岁月有着不动声色的力量

举报只看该作者 8楼发表于: 2013-10-23 0

　　CHAPTER TEN
　　HALLOWEEN
　　Malfoy couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Harry and Ron were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. Indeed, by the next morning Harry and Ron thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they were quite keen to have another one. In the meantime, Harry filled Ron in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection. "It's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ron. "Or both," said Harry.
　　But as all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, they didn't have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues.
　　Neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again.
　　Hermione was now refusing to speak to Harry and Ron, but she was such a bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added bonus. All they really wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later.
　　As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Harry was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel, and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of him, knocking his bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.
　　Harry ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:
　　DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.
　　It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session.
　　Professor McGonagall
　　Harry had difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron to read.
　　"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even touched one."
　　They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harry and felt it.
　　"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."
　　Ron couldn't resist it.
　　"It's not any old broomstick," he said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Harry. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."
　　"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."
　　Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.
　　"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.
　　"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Malfoy quickly.
　　"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"
　　"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sit," said Harry, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," he added.
　　Harry and Ron headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion. "Well, it's true," Harry chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouln't be on the team...."
　　"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the package in Harry's hand.
　　"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Harry.
　　"Yes, don't stop now," said Ron, "it's doing us so much good."
　　Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.
　　Harry had a lot of trouble keeping his mind on his lessons that day. It kept wandering up to the dormitory where his new broomstick was lying under his bed, or straying off to the Quidditch field where he'd be learning to play that night. He bolted his dinner that evening without noticing what he was eating, and then rushed upstairs with Ron to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last.
　　"Wow," Ron sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto Harry's bedspread.
　　Even Harry, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top.
　　As seven o'clock drew nearer, Harry left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. Held never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Harry of the little plastic sticks Muggle
　　children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high.
　　Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Harry mounted his broomstick and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling -- he swooped in and out of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field. The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever he wanted at his lightest touch.
　　"Hey, Potter, come down!'
　　Oliver Wood had arrived. fie was carrying a large wooden crate under his arm. Harry landed next to him.
　　"Very nice," said Wood, his eyes glinting. "I see what McGonagall meant... you really are a natural. I'm just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you'll be joining team practice three times a week."
　　He opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.
　　"Right," said Wood. "Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play. There are seven players on each side. Three of them are called Chasers."
　　"Three Chasers," Harry repeated, as Wood took out a bright red ball about the size of a soccer ball.
　　"This ball's called the Quaffle," said Wood. "The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops. Follow me?"
　　"The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score," Harry recited. "So -- that's sort of like basketball on broomsticks with six hoops, isn't it?"
　　"What's basketball?" said Wood curiously. "Never mind," said Harry quickly.
　　"Now, there's another player on each side who's called the Keeper -I'm Keeper for Gryffindor. I have to fly around our hoops and stop the other team from scoring."
　　"Three Chasers, one Keeper," said Harry, who was determined to remember it all. "And they play with the Quaffle. Okay, got that. So what are they for?" He pointed at the three balls left inside the box.
　　"I'll show you now," said Wood. "Take this."
　　He handed Harry a small club, a bit like a short baseball bat.
　　"I'm going to show you what the Bludgers do," Wood said. "These two are the Bludgers."
　　He showed Harry two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than the red Quaffle. Harry noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the straps holding them inside the box.
　　"Stand back," Wood warned Harry. He bent down and freed one of the Bludgers.
　　At once, the black ball rose high in the air and then pelted straight at Harry's face. Harry swung at it with the bat to stop it from breaking his nose, and sent it zigzagging away into the air -- it zoomed around their heads and then shot at Wood, who dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground.
　　"See?" Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate and strapping it down safely. "The Bludgers rocket around, trying to knock players off their brooms. That's why you have two Beaters on each team -- the Weasley twins are ours -- it's their job to protect their side from the Bludgers and try and knock them toward the other team. So -- think you've got all that?"
　　"Three Chasers try and score with the Quaffle; the Keeper guards the goal posts; the Beaters keep the Bludgers away from their team," Harry reeled off.
　　"Very good," said Wood.
　　"Er -- have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?" Harry asked, hoping he sounded offhand.
　　"Never at Hogwarts. We've had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse than that. Now, the last member of the team is the
　　Seeker. That's you. And you don't have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers unless they crack my head open."
　　"Don't worry, the Weasleys are more than a match for the Bludgers -- I mean, they're like a pair of human Bludgers themselves."
　　Wood reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball. Compared with the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings.
　　"This," said Wood, "is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the lot. It's very hard to catch because it's so fast and difficult to see. It's the Seeker's job to catch it. You've got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and Quaffle to get it before the other team's Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they
　　nearly always win. That's why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages -- I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep. "Well, that's it -- any questions?"
　　Harry shook his head. He understood what he had to do all right, it was doing it that was going to be the problem.
　　"We won't practice with the Snitch yet," said Wood, carefully shutting it back inside the crate, "it's too dark, we might lose it. Let's try you out with a few of these."
　　He pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few minutes later, he and Harry were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Harry to catch.
　　Harry didn't miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. After half an hour, night had really fallen and they couldn't carry on.
　　"That Quidditch cup'll have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons."
　　Perhaps it was because he was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all his homework, but Harry could hardly believe it when he realized that he'd already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had. His lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered the basics.
　　On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Harry's partner was Seamus Finnigan (which was a relief, because Neville had been trying to catch his eye). Ron, however, was to be working with Hermione Granger. It was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this. She hadn't spoken to either of them since the day Harry's broomstick had arrived.
　　"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too -- never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."
　　It was very difficult. Harry and Seamus swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the desktop. Seamus got so impatient that he prodded it with his wand and set fire to it -- Harry had to put it out with his hat.
　　Ron, at the next table, wasn't having much more luck.
　　"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.
　　"You're saying it wrong," Harry heard Hermione snap. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."
　　"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.
　　Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"
　　Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.
　　"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"
　　Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class. "It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Harry as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly. "
　　Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione. Harry caught a glimpse of her face -- and was startled to see that she was in tears.
　　"I think she heard you."
　　"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."
　　Hermione didn't turn up for the next class and wasn't seen all afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Harry and Ron overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom and wanted to be left alone. Ron looked still more awkward at this, but a moment later they had entered the Great Hall, where the Halloween decorations put Hermione out of their minds.
　　A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.
　　Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll -- in the dungeons -- thought you ought to know."
　　He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.
　　There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.
　　"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"
　　Percy was in his element.
　　"Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"
　　"How could a troll get in?" Harry asked as they climbed the stairs.
　　"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Ron. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke."
　　They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Harry suddenly grabbed Ron's arm.
　　"I've just thought -- Hermione."
　　"What about her?"
　　"She doesn't know about the troll."
　　Ron bit his lip.
　　"Oh, all right," he snapped. "But Percy'd better not see us."
　　Ducking down, they joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted side corridor, and hurried off toward the girls' bathroom. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them.
　　"Percy!" hissed Ron, pulling Harry behind a large stone griffin.
　　Peering around it, however, they saw not Percy but Snape. He crossed the corridor and disappeared from view.
　　"What's he doing?" Harry whispered. "Why isn't he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?"
　　"Search me."
　　Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Snape's fading footsteps.
　　"He's heading for the third floor," Harry said, but Ron held up his hand.
　　"Can you smell something?"
　　Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.
　　And then they heard it -- a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Ron pointed -- at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.
　　It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.
　　The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.
　　"The keys in the lock," Harry muttered. "We could lock it in."
　　"Good idea," said Ron nervously.
　　They edged toward the open door, mouths dry, praying the troll wasn't about to come out of it. With one great leap, Harry managed to grab the key, slam the door, and lock it.
　　'Yes!"
　　Flushed with their victory, they started to run back up the passage, but as they reached the corner they heard something that made their hearts stop -- a high, petrified scream -- and it was coming from the chamber they'd just chained up.
　　"Oh, no," said Ron, pale as the Bloody Baron.
　　"It's the girls' bathroom!" Harry gasped.
　　"Hermione!" they said together.
　　It was the last thing they wanted to do, but what choice did they have? Wheeling around, they sprinted back to the door and turned the key, fumbling in their panic. Harry pulled the door open and they ran inside.
　　Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.
　　"Confuse it!" Harry said desperately to Ron, and, seizing a tap, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall.
　　The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.
　　"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving Harry time to run around it.
　　"Come on, run, run!" Harry yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her toward the door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.
　　The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape.
　　Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped -- it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.
　　Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club.
　　Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Ron pulled out his own wand -- not knowing what he was going to do he heard himself cry the first spell that came into his head: "Wingardium Leviosa!"
　　The club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over -- and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.
　　Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done.
　　It was Hermione who spoke first.
　　"Is it -- dead?"
　　I don't think so," said Harry, I think it's just been knocked out."
　　He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.
　　"Urgh -- troll boogers."
　　He wiped it on the troll's trousers.
　　A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.
　　Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron and Harry. Harry had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. Hopes of winning fifty points for Gryffindor faded quickly from Harry's mind.
　　"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"
　　Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor. He wished Ron would put his wand down.
　　Then a small voice came out of the shadows.
　　"Please, Professor McGonagall -- they were looking for me."
　　"Miss Granger!"
　　Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.
　　I went looking for the troll because I -- I thought I could deal with it on my own -- you know, because I've read all about them."
　　Ron dropped his wand. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher? "If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."
　　Harry and Ron tried to look as though this story wasn't new to them.
　　"Well -- in that case..." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the three of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"
　　Hermione hung her head. Harry was speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets.
　　"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."
　　Hermione left.
　　Professor McGonagall turned to Harry and Ron.
　　"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."
　　They hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.
　　"We should have gotten more than ten points," Ron grumbled.
　　"Five, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's."
　　"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save her."
　　"She might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with her," Harry reminded him.
　　They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.
　　"Pig snout," they said and entered.
　　The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates.
　　But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.
　　CHAPTER ELEVEN
　　QUIDDITCH
　　As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.
　　The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.
　　Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harry didn't know which was worse -- people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress.
　　It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermlone as a friend. He didn't know how he'd have gotten through all his homework without her, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. She had also tent him Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a very interesting read.
　　Harry learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.
　　Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the three of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Harry noticed at once that Snape was limping. Harry, Ron, and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view; they were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about their guilty faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyway.
　　"What's that you've got there, Potter?"
　　It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry showed him.
　　"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."
　　"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"
　　"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.
　　The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Harry and Ron's Charms homework for them. She would never let them copy ("How will you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right answers anyway.
　　Harry felt restless. He wanted Quidditch Through the Ages back, to take his mind off his nerves about tomorrow. Why should he be afraid of Snape? Getting up, he told Ron and Hermione he was going to ask Snape if he could have it.
　　"Better you than me," they said together, but Harry had an idea that Snape wouldn't refuse if there were other teachers listening.
　　He made his way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again. Nothing.
　　Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try. He pushed the door ajar and peered inside -- and a horrible scene met his eyes.
　　Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.
　　"Blasted thing*," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"
　　Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but --
　　"POTTER!"
　　Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry gulped.
　　"I just wondered if I could have my book back."
　　"GET OUT! OUT!"
　　Harry left, before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor. He sprinted back upstairs.
　　"Did you get it?" Ron asked as Harry joined them. "What's the matter?"
　　In a low whisper, Harry told them what he'd seen.
　　"You know what this means?" he finished breathlessly. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when we saw him -- he's after whatever it's guarding! And Id bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"
　　Hermione's eyes were wide.
　　"No -- he wouldn't, she said. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."
　　"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," snapped Ron. "I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"
　　Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with the same question. Neville was snoring loudly, but Harry couldn't sleep. He tried to empty his mind -- he needed to sleep, he had to, he had his first Quidditch match in a few hours -- but the expression on Snape's face when Harry had seen his leg wasn't easy to forget.
　　The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheer ful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.
　　"You've got to eat some breakfast."
　　"I don't want anything."
　　"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.
　　"I'm not hungry."
　　Harry felt terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field.
　　"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."
　　"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.
　　By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.
　　Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Potter for President, and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors.
　　Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green).
　　Wood cleared his throat for silence.
　　"Okay, men," he said.
　　"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson.
　　"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."
　　"The big one," said Fred Weasley.
　　"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.
　　"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harry, "we were on the team last year."
　　"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."
　　He glared at them all as if to say, "Or else."
　　"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."
　　Harry followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping his knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers.
　　Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.
　　"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. Harry thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter for President over the crowd. His heart skipped. He felt braver.
　　"Mount your brooms, please."
　　Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.
　　Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.
　　Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off. "And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor -- what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too --"
　　"JORDAN!"
　　"Sorry, Professor."
　　The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.
　　"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve -- back to Johnson and -- no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes -- Flint flying like an eagle up there -- he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle -- that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and -- OUCH -- that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger -- Quaffle taken by the Slytherins -- that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger -- sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which -- nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes -- she's really flying -- dodges a speeding Bludger -- the goal posts are ahead -- come on, now, Angelina -- Keeper Bletchley dives -- misses -- GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"
　　Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.
　　"Budge up there, move along."
　　"Hagrid!"
　　Ron and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them.
　　"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"
　　"Nope," said Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."
　　"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.
　　Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood's game plan.
　　"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be."
　　When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.
　　"All right there, Harry?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.
　　"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the -- wait a moment -- was that the Snitch?"
　　A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.
　　Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch -all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.
　　Harry was faster than Higgs -- he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead - - he put on an extra spurt of speed --
　　WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below -- Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life.
　　"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.
　　Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.
　　Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"
　　"What are you talking about, Dean?" said Ron.
　　"Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"
　　"But this isn't soccer, Dean," Ron reminded him.
　　Hagrid, however, was on Dean's side.
　　"They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air."
　　Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.
　　"So -- after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating
　　"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.
　　"I mean, after that open and revolting foul
　　'Jordan, I'm warning you --"
　　"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."
　　It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.
　　It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal- posts -- he had half a mind to ask Wood to call time-out -- and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.
　　Lee was still commentating.
　　"Slytherin in possession -- Flint with the Quaffle -- passes Spinnet -- passes Bell -- hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose -- only joking, Professor -- Slytherins score -- A no...
　　The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying- him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.
　　 "Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom... but he can't have...."
　　Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.
　　"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.
　　"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic -- no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."
　　At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.
　　"What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray-faced.
　　"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape -- look."
　　Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.
　　"He's doing something -- jinxing the broom," said Hermione.
　　"What should we do?"
　　"Leave it to me."
　　Before Ron could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Ron turned the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good -- every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus
　　Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.
　　"Come on, Hermione," Ron muttered desperately.
　　Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was now racing along the row behind him; she didn't even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered a few, well- chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand onto the hem of Snape's robes.
　　It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in her pocket, she scrambled back along the row -- Snape would never know what had happened.
　　It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom.
　　"Neville, you can look!" Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes.
　　Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick -- he hit the field on all fours -- coughed -- and something gold fell into his hand.
　　"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.
　　"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference -- Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results -- Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry heard none of this, though. He was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Ron and Hermione.
　　"It was Snape," Ron was explaining, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."
　　"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"
　　Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Harry decided on the truth.
　　"I found out something about him," he told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."
　　Hagrid dropped the teapot.
　　"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.
　　"Fluffy?"
　　"Yeah -- he's mine -- bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year -- I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the
　　"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.
　　"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."
　　"But Snape's trying to steal it."
　　"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."
　　"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione.
　　The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about Snape.
　　I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them!
　　You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"
　　"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh -- yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel --"
　　"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"
　　Hagrid looked furious with himself.

第十章　万圣节前夜
　
　

　
　　第二天，马尔福简直不敢相信自己的眼睛，他看见哈利和罗恩居然还在霍格沃茨，虽然显得有些疲倦，但非常开心。确实，哈利和罗恩第二天一早醒来，都觉得看见那条三个脑袋的大狗是一次很精彩的奇遇，巴不得再经历一次。而且，哈利原原本本地对罗恩讲了那个似乎已从古灵阁转移到了霍格沃茨的小包裹，于是他们花了许多时间猜测，是什么东西需要这样严加看守。
　
　　“它要么特别宝贵，要么特别危险。”罗恩说。
　
　　“或者两项全占了。”哈利说。
　
　　但是，关于那个神秘物件，他们惟一能够确定的只是它的长度有两英寸。如果没有更多的线索，是不可能猜到它是什么东西的。
　
　　纳威和赫敏对于大狗和活板下面藏着什么，似乎一点也不感兴趣。纳威只想着千万别再走近那只大狗。
　
　　赫敏现在不答理哈利和罗恩了。她一向自以为是，喜欢发号施令，所以他们倒觉得这是一件意外的好事。他们现在最希望的就是对马尔福进行报复，令他们高兴的是，大约一个星期后，这样的机会就随着邮差一起到来了。
　
　　当猫头鹰们像往常一样拥进大餐厅时，每个人的注意力都被由六只长耳猫头鹰驮着的细长包裹吸引住了。哈利和别人一样渴望知道这个包裹里是什么。没想到，几只猫头鹰盘旋而下，正好落在他面前，把他的熏咸肉碰落到地板上。他惊讶极了。它们扑扇着翅膀刚刚飞走，又有一只猫头鹰携来一封信，扔在包裹上。
　
　　哈利首先把信撕开——幸亏他这么做了——只见信上写着：不要打开桌上的包裹。里面装着你新的飞天扫帚光轮2000，我不想让大家知道你有了新扫帚，免得他们都想要。奥利弗伍德今晚七点在魁地奇球场等你，给你上第一堂训练课。
　
　　米麦格教授哈利把短信递给罗恩，掩饰不住内心的喜悦。
　
　　“光轮2000！”罗恩羡慕地感叹道，“我连碰都没有碰过。”
　
　　他们匆匆离开大厅，想赶在第一节课之前，找个没人的地方拆开包裹，拿出飞天扫帚。可是，就在穿过门厅时，他们发现上楼的路被克拉布和高尔挡住了。马尔福把包裹从哈利手里夺过去，摸了摸。
　
　　“是一把飞天扫帚。”他说，一边把包裹扔还给哈利，脸上混杂着嫉妒和怨恨的表情。“你等着挨罚吧，波特，一年级学生是不许玩这个的。”
　
　　罗恩按捺不住了。
　
　　“这不是什么旧型飞天扫帚，”他说，“这是光轮2000。你说你在家里有一把什么来着，马尔福？彗星260？”罗恩对哈利咧着嘴大笑。“彗星倒是挺耀眼的，但它们和光轮根本不是一个档次。”
　
　　“你怎么知道，韦斯莱，你连半个扫帚把都弄不到。”马尔福凶巴巴地回敬道，“我猜你和你那些兄弟不得不一根枝子一根枝子地攒吧。”
　
　　罗恩还没来得及回答，弗立维教授在马尔福胳膊肘边出现了。
　
　　“我希望不是在吵架吧，孩子们？”他尖着嗓子问。
　
　　“有人给波特捎来一把飞天扫帚，教授。”马尔福忙不迭地说。
　
　　“是啊，是啊，是这样的。”弗立维教授说着，朝哈利绽开笑容。“麦格教授把情况的特殊性都跟我说了，波特。是什么型号的？”
　
　　“光轮2000，先生。”哈利说。看到马尔福脸上惊恐的表情，他拼命克制着不笑出来。“我能得到它，还多亏了这位马尔福呢。”他补充道。
　
　　哈利和罗恩往楼上走去。他们看到马尔福那副明显愤怒和迷惑的样子，不得不使劲把笑忍住。
　
　　“真的，我说的是实话，”当他们来到大理石楼梯顶上时，哈利咯咯地笑着说，“如果不是他偷了纳威的玻璃球，我就进不了球队……”
　
　　“所以你认为这是对你违反校规的奖励吗？”他们俩身后传来一个愤怒的声音。赫敏噔噔地走上楼来，不满地看着哈利手里的包裹。
　
　　“我还以为你不跟我们说话了呢。”哈利说。
　
　　“是啊，现在也别说，”罗恩说，“这使我们感到很舒服。”
　
　　赫敏大踏步地走开了，鼻子扬得高高的。
　
　　那天，哈利很难定下心来认真听课。他的思绪不住地飞向宿舍，他的新飞天扫帚就躺在他的床底下。他还不时地想到他今晚就要去训练的魁地奇球场。晚饭时他三口两口咽下食物，根本没有注意吃的是什么，然后和罗恩一起迅速奔上楼梯，终于可以打开光轮2000了。
　
　　“哇！”当飞天扫帚滚落在哈利的床单上时，罗恩惊叹道。
　
　　就连对飞天扫帚的种类一无所知的哈利，也认为这把飞天扫帚简直太捧了。线条优美，富有光泽，把是红木的，长长的尾巴用整齐、笔直的枝子扎成，“光轮2000”几个字金灿灿地印在扫帚把顶端。
　
　　七点钟越来越近了，哈利离开城堡，朝暮色中的魁地奇球场走去。几百张椅子高高地排放在周围的看台上，使观众都能看见球场上的情况。球场两端各有三根金制的杆子，顶上带着圆环。它们使哈利想起麻瓜的小孩子们吹肥皂泡用的小塑料棍，只是它们每根都有五十英尺高。
　
　　哈利太想再飞上天去了，他等不及伍德，便骑上他的飞天扫帚，双脚一蹬地面。多么美妙的滋味——他快速地在球门柱间穿梭，又在球场上空忽上忽下地飞翔。他只需轻轻一碰，光轮2000就转向他需要的方向。
　
　　“喂，波特，下来！”
　
　　是奥利弗伍德来了。他胳膊下夹着一只很大的木板箱。哈利降落在他旁边。
　
　　“非常精彩。”伍德说，眼睛闪闪发亮。“我明白麦格教授的意思了……你确实是个天才。我今晚就把规则教给你，然后你就可以参加队里每周三次的训练了。”
　
　　他打开木板箱，里面是四个大小不等的球。
　
　　“好，”伍德说，“是这样，魁地奇球的规则很容易理解，尽管玩起来并不容易。每边七个人，其中三个被称为追球手。”
　
　　“三个追球手。”哈利重复道。
　
　　这时伍德拿出一只足球那么大的鲜红的球。
　
　　“这个球叫做鬼飞球。”伍德说，“追球手互相传递鬼飞球，争取让它通过一个圆环，这样便可以得分。鬼飞球每次通过一个圆环，就可以得十分。明白了吗？”
　
　　“追球手把鬼飞球投出去，让它穿过圆环，便可以得分了。”哈利复述道。“这么说——这是一种用飞天扫帚和六个圆环玩的篮球，是吗？”
　
　　“篮球是什么？”伍德好奇地问。
　
　　“没什么。”哈利赶紧说。
　
　　“好吧，每边还有另一个队员，叫守门员——我就是格兰芬多队的守门员。我必须在我们的圆环周围飞来飞去，不让对方得分。”
　
　　“三个追球手，一个守门员。”哈利说，决心把这些都记在心里。“他们打的是鬼飞球。行，明白了。那么这些是做什么用的？”他指着留在箱子里的另外三个球问。
　
　　“我现在就演示给你看。”伍德说，“你拿着这个。”
　
　　他递给哈利一根小木棒，有点像跑柱式棒球的球棒。
　
　　“我来让你看看游走球是做什么用的。”伍德说，“这两个就是游走球。”
　
　　他拿给哈利看两只一模一样的球，它们黑得发亮，比刚才的红色鬼飞球略小一些。哈利注意到，它们似乎在拼命挣扎，想摆脱把它们束缚在箱子里的皮带。
　
　　“往后站。”伍德提醒哈利。他弯下腰，松开一只游走球。
　
　　顿时，那只黑球嗖地蹿上半空，然后径直朝哈利脸上打来。哈利眼看它要撞碎自己的鼻子，赶紧用短棒拦截，打得它重新左拐右拐地蹿向空中——它在他们头顶上呼呼盘旋，然后又突然朝伍德冲来。伍德猛地伸手罩住它，把它牢牢按在地面上。
　
　　“看到了吧？”伍德喘着气说，一边使劲把游走球塞进木箱，用皮带结结实实地拴好。“游走球飞来蹿去，想把球手们从飞天扫帚上打落。所以，每一边还有两个击球手。韦斯莱孪生兄弟就是我们队的击球手——他们的工作是保护我方球员不被游走球打中，并把游走球击向对方球员。所以——你都听明白了吧？”
　
　　“三个追球手争取用鬼飞球得分；守门员看守球门柱；击球手不让游走球撞伤自己的队员。”哈利一口气说道。
　
　　“很好。”伍德说。
　
　　“嗯……游走球有没有打死过人？”哈利问道，希望他的口气显得很随便。
　
　　“在霍格沃茨从来没有。有一两个人被撞碎了下巴，仅此而已。好了，队里最后一名球员是找球手。那就是你。你不用去管鬼飞球和游走球……”
　
　　“……除非它们把我的脑袋撞开了花。”
　
　　“不用担心，韦斯莱兄弟对付游走球绰绰有余——说实在的，他们自己就像两只游走球。”
　
　　伍德又把手伸进木板箱，拿出第四只也是最后一只球。这只球与鬼飞球和游走球相比，显得很小，约摸只有一只大胡桃那么大。它金灿灿的，还有不断扇动着的银色小翅膀。
　
　　“这个，”伍德说，“就是金色飞贼，是所有球当中最重要的。你很难抓住它，它飞得像闪电一般快，根本看不清。找球手的工作就是要把它抓住。你必须在追球手、击球手、游走球和鬼飞球之间来回穿梭，赶在对方找球手之前把它抓住。如果哪个队的找球手抓住了金色飞贼，他的队就能额外赢得一百五十分，差不多就是稳操胜券了。只有当金色飞贼被抓住时，魁地奇比赛才算结束，所以有时候一场比赛会持续好多日子——我想最高记录大概是三个月吧，他们不得不找替补队员上场，把球手们换下来睡一会儿觉。
　
　　“行了，就是这样——还有问题吗？”
　
　　哈利摇了摇头。他明白自己需要做什么了，但究竟能不能做好还很成问题。
　
　　“我们先不拿飞贼来训练，”伍德说着，小心地把它放进箱子里关了起来。“天太黑了，我们会把它丢失的。我们就用几只这样的球让你训练吧。”
　
　　他从口袋里掏出一袋普通的高尔夫球，几分钟后，他和哈利就到了空中。伍德使出吃奶的力气，把高尔夫球掷往各个方向，让哈利去接。哈利百发百中，一个球都没有漏过，伍德非常高兴。过了半小时，天完全黑透了，他们无法再训练了。
　
　　“今年的魁地奇杯上将刻上我们的名字。”当他们疲倦地走回城堡时，伍德兴高采烈地说，“如果你表现得比查理韦斯莱还要出色，我一点儿也不会吃惊。他如果没有去研究龙，肯定会代表英国队参赛的。”
　
　　也许是因为现在太忙了——除了各门功课的家庭作业之外，还有每周三个晚上的魁地奇训练——所以，当哈利突然意识到自己在霍格沃茨已经整整待了两个月时，他简直感到难以置信。城堡一天比一天更像家了，而他在女贞路时从来没有这样的感觉。当一些基础知识被掌握了之后，他的功课也变得越来越有趣了。
　
　　万圣节前夕，他们一早醒来，就闻到走廊里飘着一般香甜诱人的烤南瓜的气味。更妙的是，弗立维教授在魔法课上宣布。他认为他们可以开始使物体飞起来了。同学们自从看见弗立维教授把纳威的癞蛤蟆弄得在教室里到处乱飞之后，就一直眼巴巴地希望尝试一下这种技能。弗立维教授把全班同学分成两个人一组开始训练。哈利的搭档是西莫斐尼甘（谢天谢地，因为纳威一直想跟他交换）。而罗恩呢，要和赫敏格兰杰一起合作。关于这件事，很难说清罗恩和赫敏谁更加恼火一点儿。赫敏自从哈利的飞天扫帚送到的那天起，就一直不跟他们俩说话。
　
　　“好了，千万不要忘记我们一直在训练的那个微妙的手腕动作！”弗立维教授像往常一样站在他的那堆书上，尖声说道，“一挥一抖，记住，一挥一抖。念准咒语也非常重要——千万别忘了巴鲁费奥巫师，他把‘f’说成了‘s’，结果发现自己躺在地板上，胸口上站着一头野牛。”
　
　　做起来很不容易。哈利和西莫一挥一抖，一挥一抖，做了一遍又一遍，但应该被他们送上空中的羽毛还是一动不动地躺在地板上。西莫一气之下，用魔杖朝羽毛一捅，羽毛着火了——哈利不得不用他的帽子将火扑灭。
　
　　在另一个桌子上的罗恩，运气似乎也好不到哪里去。
　
　　“羽加迪姆勒维奥萨！”他大声喊道，一边像风车一样挥动着两条长长的手臂。
　
　　“你说错了，”哈利听见赫敏毫不客气地说，“是羽加——迪姆勒维奥萨，那个‘加’字要说得又长又清楚。”
　
　　“既然你这么机灵，你倒来试试看，”罗恩咆哮着说。
　
　　赫敏卷起衣袖，挥动着魔杖，说道：“羽加迪姆勒维奥萨！”
　
　　他们的那根羽毛从桌上升起来，飘悬在他们头顶上方四英尺的地方。
　
　　“哦，做得好！”弗立维教授挥着手喊道，“大家快看，格兰杰小姐已经成功了！”
　
　　到了快下课的时候，罗恩的情绪坏到了极点。
　
　　“怪不得大家都受不了她，”他对哈利说，这时他们正在拥挤的走廊里费力穿行，“说实在的，她简直就像一个噩梦。”
　
　　有人撞了哈利一下，又匆匆从他们身边走了过去。是赫敏。哈利瞥见了她的脸——他惊讶地发现她在掉眼泪。
　
　　“我想她听见你的话了。”
　
　　“那又怎么样？”罗恩说，但也显出了一丝不安。“她一定已经注意到了，她一个朋友也没有。”
　
　　下一节课赫敏没有露面，而且整个下午都不见人影。哈利和罗恩下楼走向餐厅，去参加万圣节前夕的宴会，无意间听见佩蒂尔对她的朋友拉文德说，赫敏在女厕所里伤心地哭泣，还不让别人安慰她。罗恩听了这话，显得更不自在了。然而片刻之后，当他们走进餐厅、看见五光十色的万圣节装饰品时，立刻就把赫敏忘到了脑后。
　
　　一千只蝙蝠在墙壁和天花板上扑棱棱地飞翔，另外还有一千只像一团团低矮的乌云，在餐桌上方盘旋飞舞，使南瓜肚里的蜡烛火苗一阵阵扑闪。美味佳肴突然出现在金色的盘子里，就跟在开学的那次宴会上一样。
　
　　哈利正在吃一个带皮的土豆，奇洛教授突然一头冲进了餐厅，他的大围巾歪戴在头上，脸上满是惊恐的神色。大家都盯着他，只见他走到邓布利多教授的椅子旁，一歪身倚在桌子上，喘着气说：“巨怪……在地下教室里……以为你应该知道的。”
　
　　说完，他一头栽到在地板上，昏死了过去。
　
　　餐厅里顿时乱成一团。邓布利多教授不得不使他的魔杖头上发出几次刺耳的烟火爆炸声，大家才安静下来。
　
　　“级长，”他声音低沉地说，“立刻把你们学院的学生领到宿舍去！”
　
　　珀西自然是驾轻就熟。
　
　　“跟我来！不要走散了，一年级学生！只要你们听我的吩咐，就不用害怕什么巨怪！好了，紧紧跟在我后面。闪开，一年级学生要通过了！请原谅，我是级长！”
　
　　“巨怪怎么能钻进来呢？”他们上楼梯时，哈利问道。
　
　　“不要问我，巨怪们应该都傻得出奇，”罗恩说，“也许是皮皮鬼把它放进来的，为了给万圣节前夜增加点儿乐子。”
　
　　路上，他们遇到了一些匆匆赶往不同方向的人群。当他们费力挤过一堆神情困惑的赫奇帕奇学院的学生时，哈利猛地抓住罗恩的手臂。
　
　　“我刚想起来——赫敏。”
　
　　“她怎么啦？”
　
　　“她还不知道巨怪的事。”
　
　　罗恩咬着嘴唇。
　
　　“噢，好吧，”他果断地说，“但最好别让珀西看见我们。”
　
　　他们埋下身子，混在赫奇帕奇的人群里，朝另一个方向走去。他们悄悄溜过空荡荡的侧面走廊，急匆匆地赶往女厕所。刚转过拐角，就听见身后传来了急促的脚步声。
　
　　“珀西！”罗恩压低声音说道，拉着哈利躲到一个很大的狮身鹰首兽石雕后面。
　
　　他们从石雕后面望过去，却发现不是珀西，而是斯内普。他穿过走廊，从他们的视线中消失了。
　
　　“他在做什么？”哈利低声问道，“他为什么不和其他老师一起，待在下面的地下教室里？”
　
　　“我怎么知道！”
　
　　他们跟着斯内普渐渐远去的脚步声，悄悄顺着另一道走廊向前走，尽量不发出声音。
　
　　“他在朝三楼走呢。”哈利说。
　
　　但是罗恩举起了手，“你能闻到什么吗？”
　
　　哈利吸了吸鼻子，一股恶臭钻进他的鼻孔，那是一种臭袜子和从来无人打扫的公共厕所混合在一起的气味。接着他们听见了一阵低沉的咕哝声和巨大的脚掌拖在地上走路的声音。罗恩注意到：在左边一条通道的尽头，一个庞然大物正向他们这边移动。他们赶紧退缩到暗处，注视着它慢慢走进一片月光。
　
　　那景象十分恐怖。它足有十二英尺高，皮肤暗淡无光，像花岗岩一般灰乎乎的，庞大而蠢笨的身体像一堆巨大的泥砾，上面顶着一个可可豆一般的小脑袋。它的短腿粗壮得像树桩，下面是扁平的、粗硬起茧的大脚。它身上散发出的那股气味臭得令人作呕。它手里抓着一根粗大的木棍，由于它的手臂很长，木棍在地上拖着。
　
　　巨怪停在一个门边，朝里面窥视。它摆动着长耳朵，用它的小脑袋做出了决定，然后垂下头，慢慢钻进了房间。
　
　　“钥匙在锁眼里呢，”哈利喃喃地低语，“我们可以把它锁在里面。”
　
　　“好主意。”罗恩紧张地说。
　
　　他们侧着身子走向敞开的门，觉得嘴里发干，一心只希望巨怪不要突然跑出来。哈利大步一跳，把钥匙抓在手里，猛地撞上门，牢牢锁住。
　
　　“成了！”
　
　　他们因为得手而兴奋得满脸通红，开始顺着通道往回跑，可是，刚跑到拐弯处，就听见了一个几乎使他们的心脏停止跳动的声音——一个凄厉的、惊恐万状的声音——是从他们刚刚锁上的房间里传出来的。
　
　　“哦，糟糕。”罗恩说，脸色苍白得像血人巴罗的鬼魂。
　
　　“那是女厕所！”哈利连气都透不过来了。
　
　　“赫敏！”两人同时说道。
　
　　他们真不愿意再回去，可是还有什么别的选择呢？他们猛一转身，奔回那道门前，拧动钥匙，因为紧张而显得笨手笨脚——哈利把门拉开，两人冲了进去。
　
　　赫敏格兰杰缩在对面的墙边，似乎随时都有可能晕倒。巨怪正在朝她逼近，它一边走，一边把水池撞得与墙脱开了。
　
　　“把它搞糊涂！”哈利孤注一掷地对罗恩说，一边抓起一个水龙头，使劲朝墙上扔去。
　
　　巨怪在离赫敏几步远的地方停住了。它笨拙地转过身来，愚蠢地眨巴着小眼睛，想看清声音是什么东西发出来的。它那丑陋的小眼睛看见了哈利。它迟疑了一下，然后便朝哈利走来，一边举起手里的木棍。
　
　　“嘿，大笨蛋！”罗恩从房间另一边喊道，同时把一根金属管朝巨怪扔去。巨怪似乎根本没有注意到金属管打中了它的肩膀，但它听见了喊声，便又停住脚步，把丑陋的大鼻子转向了罗恩，哈利趁此机会绕到它的身后。
　
　　“过来，快跑，快跑！”哈利朝赫敏喊道，想把她拉向门口，但是她动弹不得，仍然紧紧地贴在墙上，嘴巴惊恐地张得老大。
　
　　喊声和回音似乎把巨怪逼得发狂了。它又咆哮了一声，开始向罗恩逼近。
　
　　罗恩离巨怪最近，而且没有退路。
　
　　这时，哈利做了一件非常勇敢但又十分愚蠢的事：他猛地向前一跳，用双臂从后面搂住了巨怪的脖子。巨怪是不会感觉到哈利吊在它身上的，但如果你把一根长长的木头插进它的鼻子，巨怪就不可能毫无感觉了。哈利在跳起时手里拿着魔杖——它径直插进了巨怪的一个鼻孔。
　
　　巨怪痛苦地吼叫起来，扭动着身子，连连挥舞手里的木棍，哈利死死地搂住它不放；巨怪随时都会把他甩下来，然后抓住他，用木棍给他可怕的一击。
　
　　赫敏吓呆了，扑通瘫倒在地板上；罗恩抽出自己的魔杖——他正不知道该怎么办呢，却听见自己喊出了脑子里想到的第一句咒语：“羽加迪姆勒维奥萨！”
　
　　木棍突然从巨怪手里飞出，高高地、高高地升向空中，又慢慢转了个身——落下来，敲在它主人的头上，发出惊天动地的一声爆响。巨怪原地摇摆了一下，面朝下倒在地板上，轰隆一声，把整个房间都震得发抖。
　
　　哈利爬起身来。他浑身颤抖，气喘吁吁。罗恩站在那里，瞪眼看着自己所做的事情，魔杖还高高地举在手里。
　
　　最后是赫敏先开口说话了。
　
　　“它——死了吗？”
　
　　“我认为没有，”哈利说，“它大概只是被打昏了。”
　
　　他弯下腰，从巨怪的鼻子里拔出自己的魔杖，那上面沾着一大块一大块灰色的胶状物质。
　
　　“呸！巨怪的鼻子牛儿。”
　
　　他把魔杖在巨怪的裤子上擦了擦。
　
　　突然传来一阵猛烈的撞门声和响亮的脚步声，房间里的三个人都抬起头来。他们没有意识到刚才闹出了多么大的动静，一定是楼下的人听见了剧烈的碰撞声和巨怪的吼叫声。
　
　　片刻之后，麦格教授冲进了房间，后面紧跟着斯内普，奇洛在最后。奇洛只朝巨怪看了一眼，就发出了一阵无力的抽泣，坐在一个抽水马桶上，紧紧攥住自己的胸口。
　
　　斯内普弯下腰去看巨怪。麦格教授看着罗恩和哈利。哈利从未见过她这么生气的样子。她的嘴唇煞白。为格兰芬多赢得五十分的希望迅速从哈利脑海中消失了。
　
　　“你们到底在玩什么鬼把戏？”麦格教授说，声音里带着冷冰冰的愤怒。哈利看着罗恩，只见他仍然高举着魔杖站在那里。“算你们走运，没有被它弄死。你们为什么不老老实实待在宿舍里？”
　
　　斯内普用逼人的目光迅速剜了哈利一眼。哈利看着地上，他希望罗恩赶紧把魔杖放下来。这时，阴影里传来一个低低的声音。
　
　　“请别这样，麦格教授——他们是在找我。”
　
　　“格兰杰小姐！”
　
　　赫敏终于挣扎着站了起来。
　
　　“我来找巨怪，因为我……我以为我能独自对付它……你知道，因为我在书上读到过它们，对它们很了解。”
　
　　罗恩放下了魔杖。
　
　　赫敏格兰杰对一位老师撒下了弥天大谎——“如果他们没有我到我，我现在肯定已经死了。哈利把他的魔杖插进了巨怪的鼻孔，罗恩用巨怪自己的木棍把它打昏了过去。他们来不及去找人。他们赶来的时候，巨怪正要把我一口吞掉。”
　
　　哈利和罗恩竭力装出一副早已熟悉这个故事的样子。
　
　　“噢——如果是这样……”麦格教授注视着他们，沉吟道，“格兰杰小姐，你这个傻姑娘，你怎么能认为你独自就能对付一个大山般的巨怪呢？”
　
　　赫敏垂下了头。哈利一句话也说不出来。赫敏是最不可能违反校规的人，而现在，她为了使他们摆脱麻烦，居然撒谎说自己违反了校规。这简直就像斯内普开始给大家发糖一样，令人难以置信。
　
　　“格兰杰小姐，因为这件事，格兰芬多要被扣去五分，”麦格教授说，“我对你感到很失望。如果你一点儿也没有受伤，最好赶紧回格兰芬多城堡去。学生们都在自己的学院里享用万圣节晚宴呢。”
　
　　赫敏离去了。
　
　　麦格教授转向哈利和罗恩。
　
　　“好吧，我仍然要说算你们走运，没有几个一年级学生能同一个成年的巨怪展开较量的。你们每人为格兰芬多赢得了五分。我会把这件事通知邓布利多教授的。你们可以走了。”
　
　　他们急忙走出房间，一言不发地上了两层楼梯。总算闻不到巨怪身上的恶臭了，他们松了口气。
　
　　“我们应该赢得不止十分。”罗恩嘟嘟囔囔地抱怨。
　
　　“只有五分，算上她在赫敏身上扣掉的分数。”
　
　　“赫敏真好，她挺身而出，使我们摆脱了麻烦。”罗恩承认道，“不过你别忘了，我们确实救了她。”
　
　　“如果我们没有把她和那东西关在一起，她也许根本就不用别人去救。”哈利提醒他。
　
　　他们来到胖夫人的肖像前面。
　
　　“猪鼻子。”他们说完口令，就钻了进去。
　
　　公共休息室里挤满了人，吵吵闹闹的。每个人都在吃着送上来的食物。只有赫敏独自站在门口，等着他们。一时间，三个人都很尴尬。接着，他们谁也没看谁，只同时说了一句“谢谢你”，就匆匆奔向自己的盘子。
　
　　然而就从那一刻起，赫敏格兰杰成了他们的朋友。当你和某人共同经历了某个事件之后，你们之间不能不产生好感，而打昏一个十二英尺高的巨怪就是一个这样的事件。

　第十一章　魁地奇比赛
　
　

　
　　进入十一月后，天气变得非常寒冷。学校周围的大山上灰蒙蒙的，覆盖着冰雪，湖面像淬火钢一样又冷又硬。每天早晨，地面都有霜冻。从楼上的窗口可以看见海格，他全身裹在长长的鼹鼠皮大衣里，戴着兔毛皮手套，穿着巨大的海狸毛皮靴子，在魁地奇球场上给飞天扫帚除霜。
　
　　魁地奇赛季开始了。哈利经过几个星期的训练，星期六就要参加他有生以来的第一次比赛了，是格兰芬多队对斯莱特林队。如果格兰芬多队赢了，他们在学院杯赛的名次就会升到第二名。
　
　　几乎没有人看见过哈利打魁地奇，因为伍德决定对哈利参赛的事严加保密，要把他作为他们队的一个秘密武器。但是哈利要担当找球手的消息还是泄漏了出去。结果，有人对他说他会打得很棒，也有人对他说他们到时候要举着床垫。在下面跟着他跑，防止他摔下来——哈利不知道哪种说法更糟糕。
　
　　说起来真是幸运，哈利现在有了赫敏这样一位朋友。如果没有赫敏，他真不知道怎么完成那么多家庭作业，因为伍德强迫他们抓紧每分钟训练魁地奇。赫敏还借给他一本《魁地奇溯源》，他发现这本书读起来非常有趣。
　
　　哈利得知，魁地奇比赛有七百种犯规的办法，而它们都出现在一四七三年的一场世界杯比赛中；找球手通常是个头最小、速度最快的选手，最严重的魁地奇事故似乎都发生在他们身上；尽管魁地奇比赛时很少有人死亡，但据说裁判经常消失得无影无踪，几个月后才出现在撒哈拉沙漠。
　
　　赫敏自从哈利和罗恩把她从庞大的巨怪手里救出来以后，她对于违反校规便不那么在意了，这就使她变得可爱多了。哈利第一次参加魁地奇比赛的前一天，他们三人趁课间休息的时候来到外面寒冷的院子里。她已经用魔法为他们变出了一捧明亮的蓝色火焰，可以放在一只果酱罐里随身携带。他们站在那里，背对着火焰取暖。这时，斯内普从院子里穿过。哈利一眼就注意到斯内普走路一瘸一拐的。哈利、罗恩和赫敏靠得更拢一些，想挡住火焰，不让别人看见；他们知道这肯定是不被允许的。不幸的是，他们脸上那种心虚的表情吸引了斯内普的视线。他一瘸一拐地走过来。他没有看见火焰，但他似乎在寻找一个理由，不管怎么说都要训他们一顿。
　
　　“你手里拿的是什么，波特？”
　
　　“是《魁地奇溯源》。”哈利给他看了。
　
　　“图书馆的书是不许带出学校的，”斯内普说，“把它给我。格兰芬多被扣掉五分。”
　
　　“他临时编了个规定。”哈利看着斯内普一瘸一拐地走远，忿忿不平地嘟囔道。
　
　　“不知道他的腿怎么了？”
　
　　“不知道，但我希望他疼得够呛。”罗恩幸灾乐祸地说。
　
　　那天晚上，格兰芬多公共休息室里闹哄哄的。哈利、罗恩和赫敏一起坐在一扇窗户旁边。赫敏正在检查哈利和罗恩的魔法课作业。她坚决不让他们抄她的作业（“那样你们能学到什么呢？”），但是请她检查一遍之后，他们总能得到正确的答案。
　
　　哈利感到不安。他想去把《魁地奇溯源》要回来，使自己的神经放松一下，不要老想着明天的比赛。他为什么要害怕斯内普？于是，他站起来对罗恩和赫敏说，他要去问问斯内普能不能把书还给他。
　
　　“换了我才不去呢。”他们俩异口同声地说。但是哈利有了一个主意，如果旁边有其他老师听着，斯内普便不会拒绝他。
　
　　他下楼来到教工休息室，敲了敲门。没有人回答。他又敲了敲，还是没有动静。
　
　　没准斯内普把书留在里面了？值得试一试。他把门推开一道缝，朝里面望去
——眼前出现了一副可怕的景象。
　
　　房间里只有斯内普和费尔奇两个人。斯内普把他的长袍撩到了膝盖以上。
　
　　他的一条腿鲜血淋漓，血肉模糊。费尔奇正在把绷带递给他。
　
　　“该死的东西，”只听斯内普说，“你怎么可能同时盯住三个脑袋呢？”
　
　　哈利正要轻轻把门关上，可是……
　
　　“波特！”
　
　　斯内普赶紧放下长袍，挡住他的伤腿。他气得脸都歪了。
　
　　哈利喘不过气来。
　
　　“我想知道我能不能拿回我的书。”
　
　　“滚出去！出去！”
　
　　哈利不等斯内普给格兰芬多扣分，就赶紧离开了。他一路狂奔着上了楼。
　
　　“书拿到了吗？”哈利回到罗恩和赫敏身边时，罗恩问道，“怎么回事？”
　
　　哈利压低声音，把刚才看到的一切都告诉了他们。
　
　　“知道这意味着什么吗？”最后，他屏住呼吸说道，“万圣节前夕，他想从那条三个脑袋的大狗身边通过！当时我们看见他时，他正要往那里去——他在寻找大狗看守的那件东西！我敢用我的飞天扫帚打赌，是他放那头巨怪进来的，为了转移人们的注意力！”
　
　　赫敏的眼睛睁得圆圆的。
　
　　“不……他不会的，”她说，“我知道他不太好，但他决不会去偷邓布利多严加收藏的东西。”
　
　　“说老实话，赫敏，你总认为所有的老师都是圣人。”罗恩很不客气地说，“我同意哈利的话。我认为斯内普什么事都做得出来。可是他在寻找什么呢？那只大狗在看守什么？”
　
　　哈利上床时，脑子里还嗡嗡地响着这个问题。纳威发出了响亮的鼾声，哈利却久久无法入睡。他想排除杂念——他需要睡觉，他必须睡觉，再过几个小时，他就要参加他的第一场魁地奇比赛了——但是，刚才他看见斯内普的腿时，斯内普脸上的表情总令他难以忘记。
　
　　第二天一早，天气晴朗而寒冷。餐厅里弥漫着烤香肠的诱人气味，每个人都期待着一场精彩的魁地奇比赛，兴高采烈地聊个不停。
　
　　“你必须吃几口早饭。”
　
　　“我什么也不想吃。”
　
　　“吃一点儿烤面包吧。”赫敏哄劝道。
　
　　“我不饿。”
　
　　哈利的感觉糟透了。再过一个小时，他就要走向赛场了。
　
　　“哈利，你需要保持旺盛的体力。”西莫斐尼甘说，“找球手总是对方重点防范的人。”
　
　　“谢谢你，西莫。”哈利说，他看着西莫往他的香肠上涂抹厚厚的番茄酱。
　
　　到了十一点钟，似乎全校师生都来到了魁地奇球场周围的看台上。许多学生还带了双筒望远镜。座位简直被升到了半空，但有时仍然难以看清比赛情况。
　
　　罗恩和赫敏来到最高一排，加入纳威、西莫和西哈姆队球迷迪安的行列。为了给哈利一个惊喜，他们用一条被小老鼠斑斑弄脏了的床单绘制了一条巨大的横幅，上面写着波特必胜，擅长绘画的迪安，还在下面画了一头很大的格兰芬多狮子。然后，赫敏还施了一个巧妙的魔法，让横幅上的颜料闪烁着不同的色彩。
　
　　与此同时，在更衣室里，哈利和其他队员正在换上他们鲜红色的魁地奇队服（斯莱特林队穿的是绿衣服）。
　
　　伍德清了清嗓子让大家安静下来。
　
　　“好了，小伙子们。”他说。
　
　　“还有姑娘们。”追球手安吉利娜约翰逊说。
　
　　“还有姑娘们。”伍德赞同道，“是时候了。”
　
　　“这个重要的时刻。”弗雷德韦斯莱说。
　
　　“我们大家一直在等待的时刻。”乔治说。
　
　　“奥利弗的讲话我们已经记得烂熟，”弗雷德对哈利说，“我们去年就在队里。”
　
　　“闭嘴，你们两个。”伍德说，“这是格兰芬多这么多年以来最好的一支队伍；我们会赢的。我知道。”
　
　　他狠狠地瞪着大家，似乎在说：“要不够你们受的。”
　
　　“好了，时间到了。祝大家好运。”
　
　　哈利跟着弗雷德和乔治走出更衣室，然后走向欢呼鼎沸的球场，他希望自己的膝盖不要发软。
　
　　霍琦夫人做裁判。她站在球场中央，手里拿着她的飞天扫帚，等待着双方队员。
　
　　“听着，我希望大家都公平、诚实地参加比赛。”队员们一聚拢到她身边，她就说道。
　
　　哈利注意到，她的这句话，似乎是专门针对斯莱持林队的队长、六年级学生马库斯弗林特说的。哈利觉得马库斯看上去似乎有几分巨怪的血统。哈利从眼角看见了那条高高飘扬的横幅，在人群上方闪耀着“波特必胜”的字样。他的心顿时欢跳起来。他觉得有了勇气。
　
　　“请大家骑上飞天扫帚。”
　
　　哈利跨上他的光轮2000。
　
　　霍琦夫人使劲吹响了她的银哨。
　
　　十五把飞天扫帚拔地而起，高高地升上天空。比赛开始了。
　
　　“鬼飞球立刻被格兰芬多的安吉利娜约翰逊抢到了——那姑娘是一个多么出色的追球手，而且长得还很迷人……”
　
　　“乔丹！”
　
　　“对不起，教授。”
　
　　李乔丹是韦斯莱孪生兄弟的朋友。他正在麦格教授的密切监视下，担任比赛的解说员。
　
　　“她在上面真是一路飞奔，一个漂亮的传球，给了艾丽娅·斯平内特，她是奥利弗伍德慧眼发现的人才，去年还只是个替补队员——球又传给了约翰逊，然后——糟糕，斯莱特林队把鬼飞球抢去了，斯莱特林队的队长马库斯·弗林特得到了鬼飞球，飞奔而去——弗林特在上面像鹰一样的飞翔——他要得分了——没有，格兰芬多队的守门员伍德一个漂亮的动作，把球断掉了，现在是格兰芬多队拿球——那是格兰芬多队的追球手凯蒂贝尔，在球场上空，在弗林特周围敏捷地冲来冲去——哎哟——那一定很疼，被一只游走球击中了后脑勺——鬼飞球被斯莱特林队抢断——那是德里安普塞飞快地朝球门柱冲去，但是他被另一只游走球打倒了——游走球被弗雷德或者乔治韦斯莱拨到一边，那两个双胞胎实在是难以分清——格兰芬多队的击球手干得真漂亮，约翰逊又夺回了鬼飞球，前面没有阻力，她拼命飞奔——真像是飞一样——躲开一只游走球——球门柱就在前面——来吧，好，安吉利娜——守门员布莱奇俯冲过来——漏过了——格兰芬多队得分了！”
　
　　格兰芬多们的欢呼声在寒冷的天空中回荡，其中还夹杂着斯莱特林们的怒吼和呻吟。
　
　　“借光，借光，让一让。”
　
　　“海格！”
　
　　罗恩和赫敏互相挤了一挤，腾出地方让海格坐进来。
　
　　“我刚才在我那小屋里看的，”海格拍着他挂在脖子上的那只大望远镜说，“可是那和在人群里看比赛气氛不一样。飞贼还不见踪影，是吗？”
　
　　“没看见，”罗恩说，“哈利还没什么要做的。”
　
　　“只要没出麻烦，就算走运。”海格说着，举起望远镜，费力地看着空中的一个小点——那就是哈利。
　
　　哈利在很高的空中，在赛场上方轻盈地滑来滑去，眯着眼搜寻飞贼的影子。这是他和伍德制订的比赛计划的一部分。
　
　　“你先躲在一边，等看见飞贼再说，”伍德这样说，“我们不想让你早早地就遭到袭击。”
　
　　安吉利娜得分后，哈利翻了几个筋斗，表达自己喜悦的情绪。现在他又回去寻找飞贼了。有一次，他突然看见金光一闪，但这只是韦斯莱孪生兄弟中某一个人的手表的反光；还有一次，一只游走球决定朝他这边冲来，那样子就像一只炮弹，但是哈利躲开了，弗雷德追着球赶来。
　
　　“没事儿吧，哈利？”弗雷德只喊了一声，就狠狠地把球打向马库斯弗林特那边。
　
　　“斯莱特林队得球，”李乔丹说道，“追球手普塞低头躲过两只游走球，又躲过韦斯莱孪生兄弟和追球手贝尔，奔向——等一等——那是飞贼吗？”
　
　　德里安普塞只顾扭头看从他左耳边飞过的一道金光，把鬼飞球漏掉了，人群中传出一片窃窃私语。
　
　　哈利看见飞贼了。他心里一阵激动，俯冲下去，追逐那道金色的流光。斯莱特林队的找球手特伦斯希金斯也看见了。两人并排朝飞贼飞奔而去——追球手们似乎都忘记了他们自己应该做的事情，一个个悬停在空中，注视着。
　
　　哈利的速度比希金斯快——他能看见那只小小的圆球，翅膀扑扇着，在前面飞蹿——他又猛地加快了速度——嘭！下面的格兰芬多们传出一阵愤怒的吼叫声
——马库斯弗林特故意冲撞哈利，哈利的飞天扫帚猛地偏离方向，但哈利死死地抓住它。
　
　　“犯规！”格兰芬多们大声叫道。
　
　　霍琦夫人怒气冲冲地责备了弗林特，然后让格兰芬多队在球门柱发任意球。但是，当然啦，在一片混乱中，金色飞贼又从视线中消失了。
　
　　看台上，迪安托马斯大声嚷道：“把他罚下场，裁判！红牌！”
　
　　“这不是足球，迪安，”罗恩提醒他，“在魁地奇比赛中，是不能把人罚下场的——还有，红牌是什么？”
　
　　可是海格赞成迪安的意见。
　
　　“他们应该改变一下比赛规则，弗林特在空中差点把哈利撞了下来。”
　
　　李乔丹觉得很难做到不偏不倚。
　
　　“这样——经过刚才那个明显而卑鄙的作弊行为——”
　
　　“乔丹！”麦格教授低声吼道。
　
　　“我是说，经过刚才那个公开的和令人反感的犯规行为——”
　
　　“乔丹，我提醒你——”
　
　　“好吧，好吧。弗林特差点儿使格兰芬多队的找球手丧命，我相信这种事情谁都会遇到，所以格兰芬多队罚球，被艾丽娅拿到了，她把球传开，很顺利，比赛继续进行，格兰芬多队仍然控制着球。”
　
　　就在哈利躲过另一只嗖嗖旋转、擦着他头皮飞过的游走球时，事情发生了。他的飞天扫帚突然很吓人地抖了一下。一时间，他以为自己要掉下去了。他两只手紧紧抓住扫帚把，并用膝盖死死夹住。他从未有过这样害怕的感觉。
　
　　又来了。就好像飞天扫帚拼命想把他摔下去似的。可是，照理说光轮2000是不会突然决定把主人摔下去的。哈利试着转向格兰芬多队的球门柱；他隐隐约约打算叫伍德暂停比赛——接着他发现他的飞天扫帚完全不受控制了。他无法让它调头，他根本无法指挥它。飞天扫帚左拐右拐地在空中穿梭，不时“嗖嗖”地剧烈晃动着，差点把他从上面摔下来。
　
　　李还在滔滔不绝地解说。
　
　　“斯莱特林队得球——弗林特拿到鬼飞球——传给艾丽娅——传给贝尔——被一只游走球狠狠打中面孔，希望把他的鼻子打断——开个玩笑，教授——斯莱特林队得分——哦，糟糕……”
　
　　斯莱特林们欢呼雀跃。似乎谁也没有注意到哈利的飞天扫帚表现异常。扫帚一路疯狂地抽搐、扭动着，慢慢地、越来越高地使哈利远离了赛场。
　
　　“真不知道哈利想做什么。”海格嘟嚷着。他通过望远镜仔细看着。“如果我不是这么了解他，就会以为他无法控制他的扫帚了——但是他不可能……”
　
　　突然。看台上的人们都向上指着哈利。他的飞天扫帚开始不停地翻腾打滚，哈利只能勉强支撑着不掉下来。突然，飞天扫帚又是一阵疯狂的扭动，哈利被它甩了下来。他现在仅用一只手抓住扫帚把，悬在空中。
　
　　“刚才弗林特冲撞他时，扫帚把是不是出了问题？”西莫小声说。
　
　　“不可能，”海格说，他的声音微微发颤，“除了厉害的黑魔法，没有什么能干扰一把飞天扫帚——小孩子是不可能对光轮2000施这种魔法的。”
　
　　听了这话，赫敏一把抓住海格的望远镜，她没有抬头去看哈利，而是开始焦急地眺望人群。
　
　　“你在做什么？”罗恩呻吟着说，脸色死灰一般。
　
　　“我早就猜到了，”赫敏喘着气说，“是斯内普——看。”
　
　　罗恩抓过望远镜。斯内普站在他们对面的看台中间。他眼睛紧盯着哈利，嘴里不出声地念念有词。
　
　　“他在使坏——给飞天扫帚念恶咒。”赫敏说。
　
　　“我们怎么办呢？”
　
　　“看我的。”
　
　　不等罗恩再说一个字，赫敏就消失了。罗恩把望远镜的镜头又对准了哈利。飞天扫帚震动得太厉害了，哈利不可能再悬很长时间。观众们全部站了起来，惊恐地注视着，韦斯莱孪生兄弟飞上去，想把哈利安全地拉到他们的一只扫帚上，然而不行——每当他们接近他时，飞天扫帚就噌的一下蹿得更高。于是，他们落下来一些，在他下面打转，显然是想在他坠落时接住他。马库斯弗林特抓住鬼飞球，投中了五次，却没有一个人注意他。
　
　　“快点儿，赫敏。”罗恩绝望地低声说。
　
　　赫敏艰难地穿过人群，来到斯内普所处的看台，此刻她正沿着他身后的那排座位飞快地走着；她撞得奇洛教授一头摔向前排的座位，都没有停下来说一声对不起。总算到了斯内普身边，她蹲下去，抽出她的魔杖，低声说了几句经过推敲的话。明亮的蓝色火苗从她的魔杖里蹿出来，扑向斯内普长袍的下摆。
　
　　过了大约三十秒钟，斯内普才意识到自己身上着了火。听到一声惊叫，赫敏知道她的工作完成了。她迅速把火从他身上收拢，收进她的口袋，然后顺着那排座位匆匆返回——斯内普永远不会知道是怎么回事。
　
　　这就够了。高空中，哈利突然能够爬回到扫帚把上了。
　
　　“纳威，你可以看了！”罗恩说。
　
　　在刚才的五分钟里，纳威一直把脸埋在海格的夹克衫里哭泣。哈利飞快地朝地面俯冲，人们看见他用手捂住嘴巴，就好像要呕吐似的——他四脚着地落在地上——咳嗽——一个金色的东西落进他的手掌。
　
　　“我抓住了飞贼！”他大喊道，把球高高挥过头顶，比赛在一片混乱中结束了。
　
　　“他没有抓住飞贼，他差点把它吞了下去。”二十分钟后，弗林特还在忿忿不平地吼叫，但是完全不起作用——哈利并没有违犯任何规则，李·乔丹还在喜悦地大喊比赛结果——格兰芬多队以一百七十分比六十分获胜。
　
　　不过，哈利没有听到这些。他和罗恩、赫敏一起回到海格的小屋，主人正在为他沏一杯浓茶。
　
　　“是斯内普干的，”罗恩在向大家解释，“赫敏和我看见了。他在给你的飞天扫帚念咒，嘴里嘀嘀咕咕的，眼睛一直死盯着你。”
　
　　“胡说，”海格说，他对看台上发生在自己身边的事一无所知，“斯内普为什么要做这样的事？”
　
　　哈利、罗恩和赫敏交换了一下眼光，不知道该怎么告诉他。哈利决定实话实说。
　
　　“我发现了他的一些事情，”他对海格说，“万圣节前夕，他想通过那条三个脑袋的大狗。它咬了他。我们认为他是想偷大狗看守的东西。”
　
　　海格重重地放下茶壶。“你们怎么会知道三个头的路威？”他问。
　
　　“三个头的路威？”
　
　　“是啊——它是我的——是从我去年在酒店里认识的一个希腊佬儿手里买的
——我把它借给邓布利多去看守——”
　
　　“什么？”哈利急切地问。
　
　　“行了，不要再问了，”海格粗暴地说，“那是一号机密，懂吗？”
　
　　“可是斯内普想去偷它。”
　
　　“胡说，”海格又说，“斯内普是霍格沃茨的老师，他不会做那样的事。”
　
　　“那他为什么想害死哈利？”赫敏大声问道。
　
　　这个下午发生的事件，似乎使她对斯内普的看法发生了很大转变。
　
　　“我如果看见不怀好意的凶煞，是能够认出来的。我在书上读到过关于他们的所有介绍！你必须跟他们目光接触，斯内普的眼睛一眨也不眨，我看见的！”
　
　　“我告诉你，你错了！”海格暴躁地说，“我不知道哈利的飞天扫帚为什么会有那样的表现，但是斯内普决不可能想害死一个学生！现在，你们三个都听我说——你们在插手跟你们无关的事情。这是很危险的。忘记那条大狗，忘记它在看守的东西，这是邓布利多教授和尼可勒梅之间的——”
　
　　“啊哈！”哈利说，“这么说还牵涉到一个名叫尼可·勒梅的人，是吗？”
　
　　海格大怒，他在生自己的气。

　

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举报只看该作者 9楼发表于: 2013-10-23 0

　　CHAPTER TWELVE
　　THE MIRROR OF ERISED
　　Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.
　　No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.
　　"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."
　　He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he'd realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family.
　　It was true that Harry wasn't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry had signed up at once. He didn't feel sorry for himself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas he'd ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie.
　　When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.
　　"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.
　　"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron."
　　"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Malfoys cold drawl from behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose -- that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."
　　Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.
　　"WEASLEY!"
　　Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.
　　"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."
　　"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."
　　Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking.
　　"I'll get him," said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoy's back, "one of these days, I'll get him --"
　　"I hate them both," said Harry, "Malfoy and Snape."
　　"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," said Hagrid. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."
　　So the three of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to -the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.
　　"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree -- put it in the far corner, would you?"
　　The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.
　　"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.
　　"Just one," said Hermione. "And that reminds me -Harry, Ron, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library."
　　"Oh yeah, you're right," said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.
　　"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"
　　"Oh, we're not working," Harry told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."
　　"You what?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here -- I've told yeh -- drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."
　　"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," said Hermione.
　　"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere -- just give us a hint -- I know I've read his name somewhere."
　　"I'm sayin' nothin, said Hagrid flatly.
　　"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ron, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.
　　They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn't in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time; he was missing, too, from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.
　　Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section. He had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and he knew he'd never get one. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.
　　"What are you looking for, boy?"
　　"Nothing," said Harry.
　　Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at him.
　　"You'd better get out, then. Go on -- out!"
　　Wishing he'd been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Harry left the library. He, Ron, and Hermione had already agreed they'd better not ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she'd be able to tell them, but they couldn't risk Snape hearing what they were up to.
　　Harry waited outside in the corridor to see if the other two had found anything, but he wasn't very hopeful. They had been looking for two weeks, after A, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it wasn't surprising they'd found nothing. What they really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks.
　　Five minutes later, Ron and Hermione joined him, shaking their heads. They went off to lunch.
　　"You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" said Hermione. "And send me an owl if you find anything."
　　"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," said Ron. "It'd be safe to ask them."
　　"Very safe, as they're both dentists," said Hermione.
　　Once the holidays had started, Ron and Harry were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork -- bread, English muffins, marshmallows -- and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn't work.
　　Ron also started teaching Harry wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family -- in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted.
　　Harry played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent him, and they didn't trust him at all. He wasn't a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing. "Don't send me there, can't you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him." On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When he woke early in the morning, however, the first thing he saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed.
　　 "Merry Christmas," said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on his bathrobe.
　　"You, too," said Harry. "Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"
　　"What did you expect, turnips?" said Ron, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than Harry's.
　　Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it -- it sounded a bit like an owl.
　　A second, very small parcel contained a note.
　　We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.
　　"That's friendly," said Harry.
　　Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence.
　　"Weird!" he said, 'NMat a shape! This is money?"
　　"You can keep it," said Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron was. "Hagrid and my aunt and uncle -- so who sent these?"
　　"I think I know who that one's from," said Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. "My mom. I told her you didn't expect any presents and -- oh, no," he groaned, "she's made you a Weasley sweater."
　　Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.
　　"Every year she makes us a sweater," said Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's always maroon."
　　"That's really nice of her," said Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty.
　　His next present also contained candy -- a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione.
　　This only left one parcel. Harry picked it up and felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it.
　　Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.
　　"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans he'd gotten from Hermione. "If that's what I think it is -- they're really rare, and really valuable."
　　"What is it?"
　　Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.
　　"It's an invisibility cloak," said Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is -- try it on."
　　Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell.
　　"It is! Look down!"
　　Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely.
　　"There's a note!" said Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"
　　Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words: Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.
　　A Very Merry Christmas to you.
　　There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Ron was admiring the cloak.
　　"I'd give anything for one of these," he said. "Anything. What's the matter?"
　　"Nothing," said Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father?
　　Before he could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Harry stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight. He didn't feel like sharing it with anyone else yet.
　　"Merry Christmas!"
　　"Hey, look -- Harry's got a Weasley sweater, too!"
　　Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G.
　　"Harry's is better than ours, though," said Fred, holding up Harry's sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."
　　"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demanded. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."
　　"I hate maroon," Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head.
　　"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid -- we know we're called Gred and Forge."
　　"What's all th is noise.
　　Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which
　　Fred seized.
　　"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry got one."
　　"I -- don't -- want said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.
　　"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," said
　　George. "Christmas is a time for family."
　　They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater.
　　Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce -- and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.
　　Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. Harry watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided.
　　When Harry finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of nonexplodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Harry had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs. Norris's Christmas dinner.
　　Harry and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry broke in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. He suspected he wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy hadn't tried to help him so much.
　　After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.
　　It had been Harry's best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbed into bed was he free to think about it: the invisibility cloak and whoever had sent it.
　　Ron, full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to bother him, fell asleep almost as soon as he'd drawn the curtains of his four-poster. Harry leaned over the side of his own bed and pulled the cloak out from under it.
　　His father's... this had been his father's. He let the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had said.
　　He had to try it, now. He slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a very funny feeling.
　　Use it well.
　　Suddenly, Harry felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him in this cloak. Excitement flooded through him as he stood there in the dark and silence. He could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.
　　Ron grunted in his sleep. Should Harry wake him? Something held him back -- his father's cloak -- he felt that this time -- the first time -- he wanted to use it alone.
　　He crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole.
　　"Who's there?" squawked the Fat Lady. Harry said nothing. He walked quickly down the corridor.
　　Where should he go? He stopped, his heart racing, and thought. And then it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He'd be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. He set off, drawing the invisibility cloak tight around him as he walked.
　　The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Harry could feel his arm supporting it, the sight gave him the creeps.
　　The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Step ping carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library, he held up his lamp to read the titles.
　　They didn't tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no title at all. One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe not, but he thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be.
　　He had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interestinglooking book. A large black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulled it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, let it fall open.
　　A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence -- the book was screaming! Harry snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbled backward and knocked over his lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside -- stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, he ran for it. He passed Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through him, and Harry slipped under Filch's outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in his ears.
　　He came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He had been so busy getting away from the library, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going. Perhaps because it was dark, he didn't recognize where he was at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors above there.
　　"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library Restricted Section."
　　Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he was, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to his horror, it was Snape who replied, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."
　　Harry stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. They couldn't see him, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came much nearer they'd knock right into him -- the cloak didn't stop him from being solid.
　　He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to his left. It was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying not to move it, and to his relief he managed to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walked straight past, and Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before he noticed anything about the room he had hidden in.
　　It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket -- but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.
　　It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. His panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again. He stepped in front of it.
　　He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirled around. His heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed -- for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.
　　But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror.
　　There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his shoulder -- but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Was he in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirror's trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?
　　He looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air -- she and the others existed only in the mirror.
　　She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes -- her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green -- exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry's did.
　　Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection.
　　"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?"
　　They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry's knobbly knees -- Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his life.
　　The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.
　　How long he stood there, he didn't know. The reflections did not fade and he looked and looked until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. He couldn't stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. He tore his eyes away from his mother's face, whispered, "I'll come back," and hurried from the room.
　　"You could have woken me up," said Ron, crossly.
　　"You can come tonight, I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror.
　　"I'd like to see your mom and dad," Ron said eagerly.
　　"And I want to see all your family, all the Weasleys, you'll be able to show me your other brothers and everyone."
　　"You can see them any old time," said Ron. "Just come round my house this summer. Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people. Shame about not finding Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, why aren't you eating anything?"
　　Harry couldn't eat. He had seen his parents and would be seeing them again tonight. He had almost forgotten about Flamel. It didn't seem very important anymore. Who cared what the three headed dog was guarding? What did it matter if Snape stole it, really?
　　"Are you all right?" said Ron. "You look odd."
　　What Harry feared most was that he might not be able to find the mirror room again. With Ron covered in the cloak, too, they had to walk much more slowly the next night. They tried retracing Harry's route from the library, wandering around the dark passageways for nearly an hour.
　　"I'm freezing," said Ron. "Let's forget it and go back."
　　"No!" Harry hissed. I know it's here somewhere."
　　They passed the ghost of a tall witch gliding in the opposite direction, but saw no one else. just as Ron started moaning that his feet were dead with cold, Harry spotted the suit of armor.
　　"It's here -- just here -- yes!"
　　They pushed the door open. Harry dropped the cloak from around his shoulders and ran to the mirror.
　　There they were. His mother and father beamed at the sight of him.
　　"See?" Harry whispered.
　　"I can't see anything."
　　"Look! Look at them all... there are loads of them...."
　　"I can only see you."
　　"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am."
　　Harry stepped aside, but with Ron in front of the mirror, he couldn't see his family anymore, just Ron in his paisley pajamas.
　　Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image.
　　"Look at me!" he said.
　　"Can you see all your family standing around you?"
　　"No -- I'm alone -- but I'm different -- I look older -- and I'm head boy!"
　　"What?"
　　"I am -- I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to -- and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup -- I'm Quidditch captain, too.
　　Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry.
　　"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"
　　"How can it? All my family are dead -- let me have another look --"
　　"You had it to yourself all last night, give me a bit more time."
　　"You're only holding the Quidditch cup, what's interesting about that? I want to see my parents."
　　"Don't push me --"
　　A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to their discussion. They hadn't realized how loudly they had been talking.
　　"Quick!"
　　Ron threw the cloak back over them as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. Ron and Harry stood quite still, both thinking the same thing -- did the cloak work on cats? After what seemed an age, she turned and left.
　　"This isn't safe -- she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us. Come on."
　　And Ron pulled Harry out of the room.
　　The snow still hadn't melted the next morning.
　　"Want to play chess, Harry?" said Ron.
　　"No."
　　"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?"
　　"No... you go..."
　　"I know what you're thinking about, Harry, that mirror. Don't go back tonight."
　　"Why not?"
　　"I dunno, I've just got a bad feeling about it -- and anyway, you've had too many close shaves already. Filch, Snape, and Mrs. Norris are wandering around. So what if they can't see you? What if they walk into you? What if you knock something over?"
　　"You sound like Hermione."
　　"I'm serious, Harry, don't go."
　　But Harry only had one thought in his head, which was to get back in front of the mirror, and Ron wasn't going to stop him.
　　That third night he found his way more quickly than before. He was walking so fast he knew he was making more noise than was wise, but he didn't meet anyone.
　　And there were his mother and father smiling at him again, and one of his grandfathers nodding happily. Harry sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all.
　　Except --
　　"So -- back again, Harry?"
　　Harry felt as though his insides had turned to ice. He looked behind him. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror he hadn't noticed him.
　　" -- I didn't see you, sir."
　　"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore, and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling.
　　"So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."
　　"I didn't know it was called that, Sir."
　　"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?"
　　"It -- well -- it shows me my family --"
　　"And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy."
　　"How did you know --?"
　　"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," said Dumbledore gently. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"
　　Harry shook his head.
　　"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"
　　Harry thought. Then he said slowly, "It shows us what we want... whatever we want..."
　　"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.
　　"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"
　　Harry stood up.
　　"Sir -- Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"
　　"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."
　　"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"
　　"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."
　　Harry stared.
　　"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."
　　It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thought, as he shoved Scabbers off his pillow, it had been quite a personal question.
　　CHAPTER THIRTEEN
　　NICOLAS FLAMEL
　　Dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the invisibility cloak stayed folded at the bottom of his trunk. Harry wished he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily, but he couldn't. He started having nightmares. Over and over again he dreamed about his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter.
　　"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," said Ron, when Harry told him about these drearns.
　　Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of Harry being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row ("If Filch had caught you!"), and disappointment that he hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was.
　　They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a li- brary book, even though Harry was still sure he'd read the name somewhere. Once term had started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Harry had even less time than the other two, because Quidditch practice had started again.
　　Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen his spirits. The Weasleys complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Harry was on Wood's side. If they won their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years. Quite apart from wanting to win, Harry found that he had fewer nightmares when he was tired out after training.
　　Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of bad news. He'd just gotten very angry with the Weasleys, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms.
　　"Will you stop messing around!" he yelled. "That's exactly the sort of thing that'll lose us the match! Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"
　　George Weasley really did fall off his broom at these words.
　　"Snape's refereeing?" he spluttered through a mouthful of mud. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin."
　　The rest of the team landed next to George to complain, too.
　　"It's not my fault," said Wood. "We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us."
　　Which was all very well, thought Harry, but he had another reason for not wanting Snape near him while he was playing Quidditch....
　　The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where he found Ron and Hermione playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something Harry and Ron thought was very good for her.
　　"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron when Harry sat down next to him, "I need to concen --" He caught sight of Harry's face. "What's the matter with you? You look terrible."
　　Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told the other two about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.
　　"Don't play," said Hermione at once.
　　"Say you're ill," said Ron.
　　"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione suggested.
　　"Really break your leg," said Ron.
　　"I can't," said Harry. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."
　　At that moment Neville toppled into the common room. How he had managed to climb through the portrait hole was anyone's guess, because his legs had been stuck together with what they recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor tower.
　　Everyone fell over laughing except Hermione, who leapt up and performed the countercurse. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling. "What happened?" Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit with Harry and Ron.
　　"Malfoy," said Neville shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."
　　"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urged Neville. "Report him!"
　　Neville shook his head.
　　"I don't want more trouble," he mumbled.
　　"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" said Ron. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier."
　　"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville choked out.
　　Harry felt in the pocket of his robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, the very last one from the box Hermione had given him for Christmas. He gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry.
　　"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Harry said. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."
　　Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog.
　　"Thanks, Harry... I think I'll go to bed.... D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?"
　　As Neville walked away, Harry looked at the Famous Wizard card.
　　"Dumbledore again," he said, "He was the first one I ever-"
　　He gasped. He stared at the back of the card. Then he looked up at Ron and Hermione.
　　"I've found him!" he whispered. "I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here -- listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel'!"
　　Hermione jumped to her feet. She hadn't looked so excited since they'd gotten back the marks for their very first piece of homework.
　　"Stay there!" she said, and she sprinted up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Harry and Ron barely had time to exchange mystified looks before she was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.
　　"I never thought to look in here!" she whispered excitedly. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."
　　"Light?" said Ron, but Hermione told him to be quiet until she'd looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself.
　　At last she found what she was looking for.
　　"I knew it! I knew it!"
　　"Are we allowed to speak yet?" said Ron grumpily. Hermione ignored him.
　　"Nicolas Flamel," she whispered dramatically, "is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!"
　　This didn't have quite the effect she'd expected.
　　"The what?" said Harry and Ron.
　　"Oh, honestly, don't you two read? Look -- read that, there."
　　She pushed the book toward them, and Harry and Ron read: The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.
　　There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight).
　　"See?" said Hermione, when Harry and Ron had finished. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Sorcerer's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"
　　"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Harry. "No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it."
　　"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry," said Ron. "He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"
　　The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Harry and Ron were still discussing what they'd do with a Sorcerer's Stone if they had one. It wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that Harry remembered about Snape and the coming match.
　　"I'm going to play," he told Ron and Hermione. "If I don't, all the Slytherins will think I'm just too scared to face Snape. I'll show them... it'll really wipe the smiles off their faces if we win."
　　"Just as long as we're not wiping you off the field," said Hermione.
　　As the match drew nearer, however, Harry became more and more nervous, whatever he told Ron and Hermione. The rest of the team wasn't too calm, either. The idea of overtaking Slytherin in the house championship was wonderful, no one had done it for seven years, but would they be allowed to, with such a biased referee?
　　Harry didn't know whether he was imagining it or not, but he seemed to keep running into Snape wherever he went. At times, he even wondered whether Snape was following him, trying to catch him on his own. Potions lessons were turning into a sort of weekly torture, Snape was so horrible to Harry. Could Snape possibly know they'd found out about the Sorcerer's Stone? Harry didn't see how he could -- yet he sometimes had the horrible feeling that Snape could read minds.
　　Harry knew, when they wished him good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, that Ron and Hermione were wondering whether they'd ever see him alive again. This wasn't what you'd call comforting. Harry hardly heard a word of Wood's pep talk as he pulled on his Quidditch robes and picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand.
　　Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, had found a place in the stands next to Neville, who couldn't understand why they looked so grim and worried, or why they had both brought their wands to the match. Little did Harry know that Ron and Hermione had been secretly practicing the Leg-Locker Curse. They'd gotten the idea from Malfoy using it on Neville, and were ready to use it on Snape if he showed any sign of wanting to hurt Harry.
　　"Now, don't forget, it's Locomotor Mortis," Hermione muttered as Ron slipped his wand up his sleeve.
　　"I know," Ron snapped. "Don't nag."
　　Back in the locker room, Wood had taken Harry aside.
　　"Don't want to pressure you, Potter, but if we ever need an early capture of the Snitch it's now. Finish the game before Snape can favor Hufflepuff too much."
　　"The whole school's out there!" said Fred Weasley, peering out of the door. "Even -- blimey -- Dumbledore's come to watch!"
　　Harry's heart did a somersault.
　　"Dumbledore?" he said, dashing to the door to make sure. Fred was right. There was no mistaking that silver beard.
　　Harry could have laughed out loud with relief He was safe. There was simply no way that Snape would dare to try to hurt him if Dumbledore was watching.
　　Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched onto the field, something that Ron noticed, too.
　　"I've never seen Snape look so mean," he told Hermione. "Look -they're off Ouch!"
　　Someone had poked Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.
　　"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there."
　　Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle.
　　"Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"
　　Ron didn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harry, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.
　　"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money -- you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."
　　Neville went bright red but turned in his seat to face Malfoy.
　　"I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.
　　Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ron, still not daring to take his eyes from the game, said, "You tell him, Neville."
　　"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."
　　Ron's nerves were already stretched to the breaking point with anxiety about Harry.
　　"I'm warning you, Malfoy -- one more word
　　"Ron!" said Hermione suddenly, "Harry --"
　　"What? Where?"
　　Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Hermione stood up, her crossed fingers in her mouth, as Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet.
　　"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" said Malfoy.
　　Ron snapped. Before Malfoy knew what was happening, Ron was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground. Neville hesitated, then clambered over the back of his seat to help.
　　"Come on, Harry!" Hermione screamed, leaping onto her seat to watch as Harry sped straight at Snape -- she didn't even notice Malfoy and Ron rolling around under her seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville, Crabbe, and Goyle.
　　Up in the air, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches -- the next second, Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand.
　　The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.
　　"Ron! Ron! Where are you? The game's over! Harry's won! We've won! Gryffindor is in the lead!" shrieked Hermione, dancing up and down on her seat and hugging Parvati Patil in the row in front.
　　Harry jumped off his broom, a foot from the ground. He couldn't believe it. He'd done it -- the game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. As Gryffindors came spilling onto the field, he saw Snape land nearby, white-faced and tight-lipped -- then Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into Dumbledore's smiling face.
　　"Well done," said Dumbledore quietly, so that only Harry could hear. "Nice to see you haven't been brooding about that mirror... been keeping busy... excellent..."
　　Snape spat bitterly on the ground.
　　Harry left the locker room alone some time later, to take his Nimbus Two Thousand back to the broomshed. He couldn't ever remember feeling happier. He'd really done something to be proud of now -- no one could say he was just a famous name any more. The evening air had never smelled so sweet. He walked over the damp grass, reliving the last hour in his head, which was a happy blur: Gryffindors running to lift him onto their shoulders; Ron and Hermione in the distance, jumping up and down, Ron cheering through a heavy nosebleed.
　　Harry had reached the shed. He leaned against the wooden door and looked up at Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red in the setting sun. Gryffindor in the lead. He'd done it, he'd shown Snape....
　　And speaking of Snape...
　　A hooded figure came swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible toward the forbidden forest. Harry's victory faded from his mind as he watched. He recognized the figure's prowling walk. Snape, sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner -- what was going on?
　　Harry jumped back on his Nimbus Two Thousand and took off. Gliding silently over the castle he saw Snape enter the forest at a run. He followed.
　　The trees were so thick he couldn't see where Snape had gone. He flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until he heard voices. He glided toward them and landed noiselessly in a towering beech tree.
　　He climbed carefully along one of the branches, holding tight to his broomstick, trying to see through the leaves. Below, in a shadowy clearing, stood Snape, but he wasn't alone. Quirrell was there, too. Harry couldn't make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. Harry strained to catch what they were saying.
　　"... d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus..."
　　"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all."
　　Harry leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted him.
　　"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"
　　"B-b-but Severus, I --"
　　"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Snape, taking a step toward him.
　　"I-I don't know what you
　　"You know perfectly well what I mean."
　　An owl hooted loudly, and Harry nearly fell out of the tree. He steadied himself in time to hear Snape say, "-- your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."
　　"B-but I d-d-don't --"
　　"Very well," Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."
　　He threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing. It was almost dark now, but Harry could see Quirrell, standing quite still as though he was petrified.
　　"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione squeaked.
　　"We won! You won! We won!" shouted Ron, thumping Harry on the back. "And I gave Malfoy a black eye, and Neville tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle single-handed! He's still out cold but Madam Pomftey says he'll be all right - talk about showing Slytherin! Everyone's waiting for you in the common room, we're having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens."
　　"Never mind that now," said Harry breathlessly. "Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this...."
　　He made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them, then he told them what he'd seen and heard.
　　"So we were right, it is the Sorcerer's Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy - and he said something about Quirrell's 'hocus pocuss-- I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through --"
　　"So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" said Hermione in alarm.
　　"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," said Ron.

第十二章　厄里斯魔镜
　
　

　
　　圣诞节即将来临。十二月中旬的一天早晨，霍格沃茨学校从梦中醒来，发现四下里覆盖着好几尺厚的积雪，湖面结着硬邦邦的冰。韦斯莱孪生兄弟受到了惩罚，因为他们给几只雪球施了魔法，让它们追着奇洛到处跑，砸在他的缠头巾后面。几只猫头鹰飞过风雪交加的天空递送邮件，经历了于辛万苦，它们必须在海格的照料下恢复体力，才能继续起飞。
　
　　大家都迫不及待地盼着放假。虽然格兰芬多公共休息室和礼堂里燃着熊熊旺火，但刮着穿堂风的走廊却变得寒冷刺骨，教室的窗户玻璃也被凛冽的寒风吹得咔哒作响。最糟糕的是，斯内普教授的课都是在地下教室上的，他们一哈气面前就形成一团白雾，只好尽量靠近他们热腾腾的坩埚。
　
　　“我真的很替那些人感到难过，”在一次魔药课上，德拉科·马尔福说道，“他们不得不留在霍格沃茨过圣诞节，因为家里人不要他们。”
　
　　他说话的时候眼睛看着哈利。克拉布和高尔在一旁窃笑。哈利正在称出研成粉末的狮子鱼脊椎骨，没有理睬他们。
　
　　自从魁地奇比赛之后，马尔福比以前更加阴沉了。他为斯莱特林队的失败而愤慨，说下次比赛将由一只大嘴巴树蛙代替哈利充当找球手。他本想把大家都逗得哈哈大笑，却发现并没有人觉得他的话可笑，因为大家都很佩服哈利居然能够牢牢地待在他那横冲直撞的飞天扫帚上。马尔福又嫉妒又气愤，只好转过来嘲笑哈利没有一个像样的家庭。
　
　　确实，哈利不想回女贞路过圣诞节。上个星期，麦格教授过来登记留校过节的学生名单，哈利立刻就在上面签了名。他一点儿也不为自己感到难过。这很可能是他这辈子度过的最好的圣诞节了。罗恩和他的两个孪生哥哥也准备留下来，因为韦斯莱夫妇要到罗马尼亚去看望查理。
　
　　他们上完魔药课离开地下教室时，发现前面的走廊被一棵很大的冷杉树挡得严严实实。看见树底下伸出来的那两只大脚，又听见那响亮的呼哧呼哧声，他们知道树后面的一定是海袼。
　
　　“嘿，海格，需要帮助吗？”罗恩问道，把头从那些枝技桠桠间伸了过去。
　
　　“不用，我能行，谢谢你，罗恩。”
　
　　“你能不能闪开，别挡着道？”他们身后传来马尔福冷冰冰的、拖着长腔的声音。“你是不是想挣几个零花钱哪，韦斯莱？我猜想，你大概希望自己从霍格沃茨毕业后也去看守狩猎场吧——海格的小屋和你原先那个家比起来，一定是像个宫殿吧！”
　
　　罗恩一头朝马尔福冲去，恰恰就在这时，斯内普在楼梯上出现了。
　
　　“韦斯莱！”
　
　　罗恩松开马尔福胸前的衣服。
　
　　“是有人先惹他的，斯内普教授。”海格从树后面伸出他那毛发蓬乱的大脑袋，说道，“马尔福刚才侮辱他的家庭。”
　
　　“不管怎么样，动手打人都是违反霍格沃茨校规的，海格。”斯内普用圆滑的声音说，“格兰芬多被扣去五分，韦斯莱，你应该感到庆幸，没有扣得更多。好了，快走吧，你们大家。”
　
　　马尔福、克拉布和高尔粗鲁地从树旁边挤过，把针叶碰落得到处都是。一边还得意地笑着。
　
　　“我要教训他，”罗恩看着马尔福的背影，咬牙切齿地说，“总有一天，我要狠狠地教训……”
　
　　“我真讨厌他们两个人，”哈利说，“马尔福和斯内普。”
　
　　“好了，高兴一点吧，快要过圣诞节了。”海格说，“你们猜怎么着，快跟我到餐厅去看看吧，真是妙不可言。”
　
　　于是，哈利、罗恩和赫敏跟着海格和他的冷杉树，一起来到礼堂里，麦格教授和弗立维教授都在那里，忙着布置圣诞节的装饰品。
　
　　“啊，海格，最后一棵树也拿进来了——放在那边的角落里，行吗？”
　
　　礼堂显得美丽壮观。墙上挂满了冬青和槲寄生组成的垂花彩带，房间里各处竖着整整十二棵高耸的圣诞树，有些树上挂着亮晶晶的小冰柱，有些树上闪烁着几百支蜡烛。
　
　　“还有几天才放假啊？”海格问。
　
　　“只有一天啦。”赫敏说，“噢，这倒提醒了我——哈利，罗恩，还有半个小时才吃饭呢，我们应该到图书馆去。”
　
　　“噢，是啊，你说得对。”罗恩说着，恋恋不舍地把目光从弗立维教授身上移开。教授正在用他的魔杖喷出一串串金色的泡泡，并把它们挂在新搬来的那棵树的枝子上。
　
　　“图书馆？”海格说，一边跟着他们走出礼堂，“要放假了还看书？未免太用功了吧，啊？”
　
　　“噢，我们不是复习功课。”哈利愉快地对他说，“自从你提到尼可勒梅之后，我们就一直在设法弄清他是谁。”
　
　　“什么？”海格显得很惊恐。“听我说——我告诉过你们——罢手吧。那条大狗看守的东西，与你们毫无关系。”
　
　　“我们只想知道尼可勒梅是谁，没别的。”赫敏说。
　
　　“莫非你愿意告诉我们，免得我们那么费事？”哈利又说道，“我们翻了至少有一百本书了，却连他的影子也没有发现——你就给我们一点提示吧——我知道我曾经在什么地方看到过他的名字。”
　
　　“我什么也不会说的。”海格干巴巴地说。
　
　　“那么我们只好自己去找了。”罗恩说。他们匆匆往图书馆赶去，留下海格一个人站在那里，一脸怒气。
　
　　确实，自从海格说漏嘴以后，他们一直在书里寻找勒梅的名字，除此之外，他们还有什么办法可以弄清斯内普想偷的是什么东西呢？麻烦的是，他们很难知道从何处入手，不知道勒梅有什么突出成就，能够被写进书里。他不在《二十世纪的大巫师》里，也不在《当代著名魔法家名录》里。另外，《现代魔法的重大发现》和《近代巫术发展研究》中也找不到他的名字。还有，当然啦，单是馆内藏书的规模就令人望而却步，那里有成千上万本书，几千个书架，几百条狭窄的通道。
　
　　赫敏从口袋里掏出一张清单，上面列着她决定要查找的主题和书名。与此同时，罗恩在一排图书前溜达着，漫无目标地把一些书从书架上面抽出来。哈利不知不觉来到禁书区。不幸的是，要查找任何一本禁书都必须有某位老师亲笔签名的纸条，哈利知道他是不可能弄到这种纸条的。在这些书里，包含着从不在霍格沃茨课堂上讲授的很厉害的黑魔法，只有高年级学生在研究高深的“黑魔法防御术”时才能读到。
　
　　“你想找什么，孩子？”
　
　　“没什么。”哈利回答。
　
　　图书馆管理员平斯夫人朝他挥舞着一把鸡毛掸。
　
　　“那么你最好出去。走吧——出去！”
　
　　哈利离开了图书馆，真希望刚才他脑子灵活一点，能信口编出几句谎话。他和罗恩、赫敏一致认为，最好别向平斯夫人打听在什么地方能找到勒梅。他们知道她肯定能够告诉他们，但他们不能冒险让斯内普探听到他们想做什么。
　
　　哈利在外面的走廊里等着，看另外两个人是否能有所发现，但他并不抱很大的希望。他们已经找了两个星期，但只是利用了功课之余的时间，所以一无所获也并不奇怪。他们最需要的是痛痛快快地好好搜寻一番，别让平斯夫人在后面盯着，把呼吸喷在他们的后脖颈上。
　
　　五分钟后，罗恩和赫敏回到他身边，失望地摇了摇头。他们一起去吃午饭。
　
　　“我不在的时侯，你们还要继续查找，好吗？”赫敏说，“一旦有了什么发现，就派一只猫头鹰告诉我。”
　
　　“你也可以问问你的父母，他们是不是知道勒梅这个人。”罗恩说，“问问他们是很安全的。”
　
　　“非常安全，因为他们俩都是牙医。”赫敏说。
　
　　放假以后，罗恩和哈利玩得太开心了，没有多少心思去想勒梅。宿舍完全归他们支配，公共休息室里的人也比平常少了许多，他们能够占领炉火边几把更舒服的扶手椅了。这会儿，他们就坐在那里，吃着所有能用烤叉戳起的食物——面包、面饼、蘑菇，一边设计着能使马尔福被开除的方案，尽管这些方案都不可能付诸实施，但是谈谈总是令人开心的。
　
　　罗恩还开始教哈利下巫师棋。巫师棋和麻瓜棋一模一样，但它的棋子都是活的，所以使人感觉更像是在指挥军队作战。罗恩的那副棋已经很旧了，破破烂烂的。罗恩所有的东西原先都属于他家里的其他人，这副棋是他爷爷的。不过，棋子老一些丝毫没有妨碍。罗恩对它们非常熟悉，毫不费力就能让它们听从他的调遣。
　
　　哈利用的是西莫斐尼甘留给他的那套棋子，它们根本不信任他。他的水平还不很高，棋子们东一句西一句地对他指手画脚，把人的脑袋都吵昏了：“不要把我派到那里，你没看见他的马吗？派他去吧，他牺牲了没有关系。”
　
　　圣诞节前夜，哈利上床睡觉的时候，只盼着第二天可以大吃一顿，开开心心地玩一场，他根本没有想到会收到礼物。然而，第二天一早醒来，他第一眼看见的就是他床脚边放着的一小堆包裹。
　
　　“圣诞节快乐。”哈利摸索着下了床，套上晨衣，这时罗恩睡眼惺忪地说。
　
　　“也祝你快乐。”哈利说，“你快来看看，我收到了几件礼物！”
　
　　“那你以为会收到什么？卷心菜吗？”罗恩说，转向他自己的那堆包裹，它比哈利的那堆要大得多。
　
　　哈利拿起最顶上的那个纸包。它外面包着厚厚的牛皮纸，上面龙飞风舞地写着“海格致哈利”。里面是一只做工很粗糙的笛子，显然是海格自己动手做的。哈利吹了一下——声音有点像猫头鹰叫。
　
　　第二个很小的纸包里有一张纸条。
　
　　“我们收到了你的信，附上给你的圣诞礼物。弗农姨父和佩妮姨妈。”用透明胶带粘在纸条上的是一枚五十便士的硬币。
　
　　“还算友好。”哈利说。
　
　　罗恩被那枚硬币迷住了。
　
　　“真古怪！”他说，“这样的形状！这就是麻瓜们的钱吗？”
　
　　“你留着吧。”哈利说，看到罗恩欣喜若狂的样子，不由大笑起来。“海格送的，姨妈姨父送的……那么这些是谁送的呢？”
　
　　“我想我知道这份是谁送的。”罗恩说，微微地红了脸，指着一个鼓鼓囊囊的大纸包。“是我妈妈。我对她说，你以为自己不会收到礼物……哦，糟糕，”他呻吟了一声，“她给你织了一件韦斯莱家特有的那种毛衣。”
　
　　哈利扯开纸包，看见一件厚厚的鲜绿色的手编毛衣，还有一大盒自制的乳脂软糖。
　
　　“她每年都给我们织一件毛衣，”罗恩说着，打开他自己的那个纸包，“我的总是暗紫红色的。”
　
　　“她真是太好了。”哈利说着，尝了一块乳脂软糖，觉得味道非常甜美。
　
　　接下来的一份礼物也是糖——是赫敏送的一大盒马蹄形巧克力。
　
　　还剩最后一个纸包。哈利把它拿起来摸了摸，分量很轻。他把纸包拆开。
　
　　某种像液体一样的、银灰色的东西簌簌地滑落到地板上，聚成一堆，闪闪发亮。罗恩倒抽一口冷气。
　
　　“我听说过这东西。”他压低声音说，把赫敏送给他的那盒怪味豆扔到了一边。“如果我想得不错——这东西是非常希罕、非常宝贵的。”
　
　　“是什么？”
　
　　哈利从地板上捡起那件银光闪闪的织物。它摸在手里怪怪的，仿佛是用水编织而成。
　
　　“是一件隐形衣。”罗恩说，脸上透着敬畏的神色，“我可以肯定——把它穿上试试。”
　
　　哈利把隐形衣披在肩头，罗恩发出一声高喊。
　
　　“果然！你往下看！”
　
　　哈利低头看自己的脚，真奇怪，它们消失了。他三步两步冲到镜子前面。没错，镜子里的他只有脑袋悬在半空中，身体完全看不见了。他把隐形衣拉到头顶上，镜子里的他便完全隐去了。
　
　　“有一张纸条！”罗恩突然说道，“一张纸条从它里面掉出来了！”
　
　　哈利脱掉长袍，一把抓过那封信。上面用一种他从未见过的细长的、圈圈套圈圈的字体，写着下面几行字：你父亲死前留下这件东西给我。现在应该归还给你。好好使用。衷心祝你圣诞快乐。
　
　　没有署名。哈利瞪着纸条发呆，罗恩则对着隐形衣赞叹不已。
　
　　“如果能得到这样一件东西，我什么都可以不要，”他说，“什么都可以不要。你怎么啦？”
　
　　“没什么。”哈利说。他觉得这件事非常蹊跷。隐形衣是谁送来的呢？它以前真的属于他父亲吗？没等他再说什么或再想什么，宿舍的门猛地被推开了，弗雷德和乔治韦斯莱冲了进来。哈利赶紧把隐形衣藏起来。他还不想让别人知道。
　
　　“圣诞快乐！”
　
　　“嘿，瞧——哈利也得到了一件韦斯莱毛衣！”弗雷德和乔治都穿着蓝色毛衣，一件上面有一个大大的、黄色的“Ｆ”，另一件上面有一个大大的、黄色的“Ｇ”。
　
　　“哈利的比我们俩的好，”弗雷德说着，举起了哈利的毛衣，“显然，妈妈对不是自家的人更精心一些。”
　
　　“你为什么不穿上你的呢，罗恩？”乔治问道。“来吧，穿上吧，这毛衣可是又漂亮又暖和啊。”
　
　　“我不喜欢暗紫红色。”罗恩半真半假地抱怨着，一边把毛衣套上脑袋。
　
　　“你的毛衣上没有字母，”乔治评论道，“她大概认为你不会忘记自己的名字。我们也不傻——倒是她自己，经常管我们叫乔雷德和弗治。”
　
　　“这里吵吵什么呢？”珀西韦斯莱从门缝里探进头来，一脸不满的神情。显然他也正在拆他的圣诞礼物，他胳膊上搭着一件鼓鼓囊囊的毛衣，弗雷德一把抓了过去。
　
　　“‘Ｐ’是级长的意思①！快穿上吧，珀西，快点儿，我们都穿上了，就连哈利也得到了一件呢。”
　
　　“我……不想……穿……”他含糊不清地说道，双胞胎不管三七二十一，硬是把毛衣套进珀西的脑袋，把他的眼镜都撞歪了。
　
　　“而且你今天不许和级长们坐在一起，”乔治说，“圣诞节是全家团圆的日子。”
　
　　他们将珀西抬着推出房间。他的手臂被毛衣束缚着，动弹不得。
　
　　哈利有生以来从未参加过这样的圣诞宴会。一百只胖墩墩的烤火鸡、堆成小山似的烤肉和煮土豆、一大盘一大盘的美味小香肠、一碗碗拌了黄油的豌豆、一碟碟又浓又稠的肉卤和越橘酱——顺着餐桌每走几步，就有大堆大堆的巫师彩包爆竹在等着你。这些奇妙的彩包爆竹可不像德思礼家通常买的那些寒酸的麻瓜爆竹，里面只有一些小塑料玩具和很不结实的纸帽子。哈利和弗雷德一起抽了一个彩包爆竹，它不是嘭的一声闷响，而是发出了像大炮轰炸那样的爆响，把他们都吞没在一股蓝色的烟雾中，同时从里面炸出一顶海军少将的帽子，以及几只活蹦乱跳的小白鼠。在主宾席上，邓布利多将他尖尖的巫师帽换成了一顶装点着鲜花的女帽，弗立维教授刚给他说了一段笑话，他开心地嗬嗬笑着。
　
　　火鸡之后是火红的圣诞布丁。珀西的那块布丁里裹着一个月牙形的银片，差点硌碎了他的牙齿。哈利看着海格一杯接一杯地要酒喝，脸膛越来越红，最后竟然在麦格教授的面颊上亲了一口。令哈利惊讶的是，麦格教授咯咯笑着，羞红了脸，她的高顶黑色大礼帽歪到了一边。
　
　　哈利离开餐桌时，怀里抱着一大堆从彩包爆竹里炸出来的东西，包括一袋不会爆炸的闪光气球、一个模仿肉瘤的小设备，还有一套属于他自己的巫师棋。那几只小白鼠不见了，哈利有一种很不舒服的感觉，他怀疑它们最后都成了洛丽丝夫人的圣诞晚餐。
　
　　哈利和韦斯莱兄弟几个在操场上打雪仗，疯玩了一下午，过得非常愉快。然后，他们实在是冷得不行了，衣服湿漉漉的，气喘吁吁地回到公共休息室的炉火旁。哈利试了试他的新棋子，结果很惨地输给了罗恩。哈利心里嘀咕，如果没有珀西在一旁不停地瞎出主意，他还不会输得这样惨。
　
　　吃过由火鸡三明治、烤面饼、酒浸果酱布丁和圣诞蛋糕组成的茶点，大家都感到肚子太饱，有点犯困了。他们睡觉前不想再做别的，只是看着珀西追着弗雷德和乔治在格兰芬多城堡里跑来跑去，因为双胞胎抢走了珀西的级长徽章。
　
　　这是哈利有生以来最愉快的一个圣诞节。然而，一整天来，总有一件事情萦绕在他的脑海里。直到上床以后，他才有了空闲想它：那件隐形衣，以及把隐形衣送给他的那个人。
　
　　罗恩肚里塞满了火鸡和蛋糕，又没有什么奇怪的事情困扰他，所以他几乎一放下床帷就睡着了。哈利从自己床边探出身去，从床底下抽出隐形衣。
　
　　他父亲的……它以前曾是他父亲的。他让织物从他的手上流过，比丝还要光滑，比光还要轻盈。好好使用，那张纸条上这么说。
　
　　他现在必须试一试了。他悄悄从床上滑下来，把隐形衣裹在身上。他低头看自己的腿，却只看见月光和黑影。这真是一种十分奇怪的感觉。
　
　　好好使用。
　
　　突然，哈利一下子清醒了。穿上这件隐形衣，整个霍格沃茨就对他完全敞开了。他站在黑暗和寂静中，内心感到一阵兴奋。穿着这件隐形衣，他可以去任何地方。任何地方啊，费尔奇永远也不会知道。
　
　　罗恩在睡梦中嘟哝了几声。哈利想，要不要叫醒他呢？出于某种原因，哈利没有这么做——他父亲的隐形衣——他觉得这一次——这是第一次——他想独自使用。
　
　　他蹑手蹑脚地出了宿舍，走下楼梯，穿过公共休息室，爬过那个肖像洞口。
　
　　“是谁呀？”胖夫人声音粗哑地问。
　
　　哈利没有吭声。他飞快地在走廊里走着。
　
　　他去哪儿呢？他停下脚步，想着，他的心怦怦乱跳。突然，他想起来了。图书馆的禁书区。他可以尽情地阅读，直到弄清勒梅是何许人。他把隐形衣紧紧裹在身上，向前走去。
　
　　图书馆内漆黑一片，阴森可怖。哈利点亮一盏灯，端着它走过一排排书架。那灯看上去就像悬浮在半空中，哈利虽然感觉到自己甩手端着它，但这景象仍然使他毛骨悚然。
　
　　禁书区在图书馆的后部。哈利小心翼翼地跨过把这些书与其他藏书隔开的绳子，举起灯照着，读着书名。
　
　　然而，他从书名上看不出头绪。那些剥落的、褪色的烫金字母，拼出的都是哈利无法理解的单词。有些书根本没有书名。有一本书上沾着一块暗色的印渍。很像血迹，看上去非常可怕。哈利脖子后面的汗毛都竖了起来。他觉得从书里传出了一阵阵若有若无的低语，似乎那些书知道有一个不该待在那里的人待在那里
——这也许是他的幻觉，也许不是。
　
　　他必须从什么地方入手。他把灯小心地放在地板上，顺着书架底部望去，想找一本看上去有点意思的书。他突然看见一本黑色和银色相间的大书。书很沉，他费力地把它抽了出来，放在膝盖上，让它自己打开来。
　
　　一阵凄厉的、令人毛骨悚然的尖叫划破了寂静——那本书在惨叫！哈利猛地把它合上，但是尖叫声没有停止，那是一种高亢的、持续不断的、震耳欲聋的声调。他踉跄着后退了几步，灯被撞翻了，立刻就熄灭了。在惊慌失措中，他听见外面的走廊上传来了脚步声。他赶紧把那本尖叫的书插回书架，撒腿就跑。几乎就在门口，他与费尔奇擦肩而过，费尔奇那双狂怒的浅色眼睛径直透过他的身体望出去。哈利从费尔奇张开的臂膀下溜过，沿着走廊狂奔，那本书的尖叫声仍然在他耳畔回荡。
　
　　他在一套高高的盔甲前突然刹住脚步。他刚才急于逃离图书馆，根本没有注意他在往哪儿走。也许是因为四下里太黑了，他辨不清自己身在何处。他知道厨房附近有一套盔甲，但是他现在肯定要比厨房高出五层啊。
　
　　“教授，你说过的，如果有人夜里到处乱逛，就立刻来向你汇报，刚才有人在图书馆，在禁书区。”
　
　　哈利觉得自己脸上顿时失去了血色。不管他在哪里，费尔奇肯定知道一条捷径，因为他那黏糊糊的、发腻的声音离他越来越近，而且令他大为惊恐的是，他听见了斯内普的声音在回答。
　
　　“禁书区？那么他们不可能走远，我们一定能抓住他们。”
　
　　哈利像脚底生了根似的待在原地，费尔奇和斯内普从前面的墙角拐过来了。他们看不见他，但这条走廊很窄，如果他们再走近一些，就会撞到他身上——隐形衣并没有使他的实体也消失啊。
　
　　他一步步后退，尽量不发出声音。左边有一扇门开了一条缝。这是他惟一的希望。他侧身挤了进去，小心翼翼地不把门碰动。谢天谢地，他总算进了房间。他们什么也没有注意到，径直走了过去。哈利靠在墙上，深深地吸气，听着他们的脚步声渐渐远去。刚才真惊险啊，太惊险了。几秒钟后，他才开始留意他借以藏身的这个房间里的情景。
　
　　它看上去像是一间废弃不用的教室。许多桌椅堆放在墙边，呈现出大团黑乎乎的影子，另外还有一只倒扣着的废纸篓——但是，在正对着他的那面墙上，却搁着一件似乎不属于这里的东西，仿佛是有人因为没有地方放，而临时把它搁在这里的。
　
　　这是一面非常气派的镜子，高度直达天花板，华丽的金色镜框，底下是两只爪子形的脚支撑着。顶部刻着一行字：厄里斯斯特拉厄赫鲁阿伊特乌比卡弗鲁阿伊特昂沃赫斯②。
　
　　现在，费尔奇和斯内普的声音听不见了，哈利紧张的心情松弛下来。他慢慢走近镜子，想看一眼自己的形象，但镜子里空空如也。他又跨近几步，站到镜子前面。
　
　　他不得不用手捂住嘴巴，才没有失声尖叫起来。他猛地转过身来。心跳得比刚才那本书尖叫时还要疯狂——因为他在镜子里不仅看见了他自己，还看见一大堆人站在他身后。
　
　　但是房间里没有人啊。他急促地喘息着，慢慢转身看着镜子。没错，镜子里有他，脸色煞白，惊恐万分，同时镜子里还有至少十来个人，站在他的身后。哈利扭头朝后看去——还是一个人也没有。难道他们也都隐形了？难道他实际上是在一间有许多隐形人的房间里，而这面镜子的法术就是把他们都照出来，不管隐形的还是没有隐形的？他又仔细看着镜子。在镜子里，一个站在他身后的女人正在对他微笑和招手。他伸出手去，在身后摸索着。如果那女人真的存在，哈利应该能碰到她，他们两人在镜子里挨得多么近啊，可是哈利触摸到的只有空气——那女人和其他人只存在于镜子里。
　
　　她是一个非常美丽的女人，有着深红色的头发，她的眼睛——她的眼睛长得和我一模一样，哈利想道。接着他发现她在哭泣，她面带微笑，同时又在哭泣。站在她身边的那个黑头发的高大、消瘦的男人用手搂住她。那男人戴着眼镜，头发乱蓬蓬的，后脑勺儿的一撮头发很不听话地竖着，正和哈利的一样。哈利现在离镜子很近很近了，鼻子几乎碰到了镜子中自己的鼻子。
　
　　“妈妈？”他低声唤道，“爸爸？”
　
　　他们都看着他，亲切地微笑着。哈利慢慢地挨个儿打量镜子里其他人的脸，发现他们都有着和他一模一样的绿眼睛、一模一样的鼻子，一个小老头儿甚至还有着和哈利一模一样的凹凸不平的膝盖——哈利正在望着他的家人，这是他有生以来的第一次。
　
　　波特一家人笑眯眯地朝哈利挥手。他如饥似渴地凝视着他们，双手紧紧按在镜子玻璃上，就好像他希望能够扑进去和他们待在一起。他内心感到一阵强烈的剧痛，一半是因为喜悦，一半是因为深切的忧伤。
　
　　他在那里站了多久，他不知道。镜子里的形象始终没有隐去，他看呀看呀，怎么也看不够，直到远处传来一些声音，才使他恢复了理智。他不能待在这里，他必须回去睡觉。他恋恋不舍地把目光从他母亲脸上挪开，低声说道：“我还会再来的。”便匆匆离开了房间。
　
　　“你应该把我叫醒的。”罗恩生气地说。
　
　　“今晚你可以来，我还要去的，我想让你看看那面镜子。”
　
　　“我想看看你的爸爸妈妈。”罗恩急切地说。
　
　　“我也想看看你的全家，看看韦斯莱的一大家人，你可以把你另外的几个兄弟和所有的亲戚都指给我看。”
　
　　“你随时都能看到他们的，”罗恩说，“今年暑假到我们家来吧。不过，镜子里或许只能出现死人。唉，真惭愧，我们还没有找到勒梅的资料。你吃点熏咸肉或别的什么吧，你怎么什么也不吃？”
　
　　哈利吃不下去。他见到了他的父母，而且今晚还要与他们相见。他差不多把勒梅忘到了脑后。这件事似乎已经不再那么重要了。谁管那三头大狗在看守什么呢？即使斯内普把那东西偷走，又有什么关系呢？哈利最担心的是他找不到那个有镜子的房间。
　
　　第二天，因为罗恩也罩在隐形衣里，他们走得就慢多了。他们想找到哈利从图书馆出来的那条路线，在昏暗的过道里漫无目的地转了将近一个小时。
　
　　“我冻坏了，”罗恩说，“我们不找了，回去吧。”
　
　　“不行！”哈利嘶哑着声音说，“我知道就在附近的什么地方。”
　
　　他们与一个从对面游荡过来的高个子巫师的幽灵擦肩而过，但没有看见其他人。就在罗恩开始哼叫着说他的脚都要冻僵了时，哈利看见了那套盔甲。
　
　　“是这里——是这里——没错！”他们推开门。哈利把隐形衣从肩头脱掉，飞奔到镜子前面。他们还在那里。他的妈妈和爸爸一看见他，顿时喜形于色。
　
　　“看见了吗？”哈利小声问。
　
　　“我什么也看不见。”
　
　　“看呀！看呀……他们都在……有一大堆人呢……”
　
　　“我只能看见你。”
　
　　“好好看看，过来，站在我这个位置。”
　
　　哈利让到一边，然而罗恩一站到镜子前，哈利就再也看不见他的家人了，只看见罗恩穿着罗纹花呢睡衣站在那里。罗恩目瞪口呆地看着镜子中的自己。
　
　　“看我！”罗恩说。
　
　　“你能看见你的家人都围在你身边吗？”
　
　　“没有——只有我一个人——但是跟现在不一样——我好像大了一些——我还是男生学生会主席！”
　
　　“什么？”
　
　　“我——我戴着比尔以前的那种徽章——手里还举着学院杯和魁地奇杯——我还是魁地奇队的队长呢！”罗恩好不容易才使自己的目光离开了这副辉煌的景象，兴奋地看着哈利。“你说，这面镜子是不是预示着未来？”
　
　　“怎么可能？我家里的人都死了……让我再看看……”
　
　　“你已经独自看了一晚上，就让给我一点儿时间吧。”
　
　　“你只是捧着魁地奇杯，这有什么好玩的？我想看看我的父母。”
　
　　“你别推我……”
　
　　外面走廊里突然响起声音，结束了他们的争执。他们没有意识到刚才他们的说话声有多响。
　
　　“快！”
　
　　罗恩刚把隐形衣披在两人身上，洛丽丝夫人那双亮晶晶的眼睛就拐进来了。罗恩和哈利一动不动地站着，心里想着同样的念头——隐形衣对猫有作用吗？过了大约有一个世纪，洛丽丝夫人终于转身离去了。
　
　　“还是不安全——它可能去找费尔奇了，我敢肯定它听见我们的声音了。走吧。”
　
　　罗恩拉着哈利，走出了房间。
　
　　第二天早晨，雪还没有融化。
　
　　“想下棋吗？”罗恩问。
　
　　“不想。”
　
　　“我们干吗不下去看看海格呢？”
　
　　“不去……你去吧……”
　
　　“我知道你在想什么，哈利，你在想那面镜子。今晚别再去了。”
　
　　“为什么？”
　
　　“我不知道。我只是有一种很不好的感觉——而且，这么多次你都是侥幸脱险。费尔奇、斯内普和洛丽丝夫人正在到处转悠。如果他们看见你怎么办？如果他们撞到你身上怎么办？”
　
　　“你说话的口气像赫敏。”
　
　　“我不是开玩笑，哈利，真的别去了。”
　
　　可是哈利脑海里只有一个念头，那就是回到镜子前面。罗恩是怎么也拦不住他的。
　
　　第三个晚上，哈利已是轻车熟路。他一路走得飞快，没有意识到自己发出了很响的声音，但他并没有遇到什么人。
　
　　啊，他的妈妈和爸爸又在那里对着他微笑了，还有他的一个爷爷在愉快地点头。哈利一屁股坐在镜子前面的地板上。他要整晚待在这里，和自己的家人在一起，什么也不能阻拦他。什么也不能！除非——
　
　　“这么说——你又来了，哈利？”
　
　　哈利只觉得自己的五脏六腑一下子冻成了冰。他朝身后看去。坐在墙边一张桌子上的，不是别人，正是阿不思邓布利多。哈利刚才一定是径直从他身边走过的，他太急着去看镜子了，根本没有注意到他。
　
　　“我——我没有看见你，先生。”
　
　　“真奇怪，隐形以后你居然还变得近视了。”邓布利多说。
　
　　哈利看到他脸上带着微笑，不由得松了口气。
　
　　“这么说，”邓布利多说着，从桌子上滑下来，和哈利一起坐到地上，“你和你之前的千百个人一样，已经发现了厄里斯魔镜的乐趣。”
　
　　“我不知道它叫这个名字，先生。”
　
　　“不过我猜想你现在已经知道它的魔力了吧？”
　
　　“它——哦——使我看到我的家人——”
　
　　“还使你的朋友罗恩看到自己变成了男生学生会主席。”
　
　　“你怎么知道——”
　
　　“我可不是非要隐形衣才能隐形。”邓布利多温和地说，“那么，你能不能想一想，厄里斯魔镜使我们大家看到了什么呢？”
　
　　哈利摇了摇头。
　
　　“让我解释一下吧。世界上最幸福的人可以把厄里斯魔镜当成普通的镜子使用，也就是说，他在镜子里看见的就是他自己的模样。明白点什么了吗？”
　
　　哈利在思考。然后他慢慢地说：“镜子使我们看到我们想要的东西……不管我们想要什么……”
　
　　“也对，也不对，”邓布利多轻轻地说道，“它使我们看到的只是我们内心深处最追切、最强烈的渴望。你从未见过你的家人，所以就看见他们站在你的周围。罗恩韦斯莱一直在他的几个哥哥面前相形见绌，所以他看见自己独自站着，是他们中间最出色的。然而，这面镜子既不能教给我们知识，也不能告诉我们实情。人们在它面前虚度时日，为他们所看见的东西而痴迷，甚至被逼得发疯，因为他们不知道镜子里的一切是否真实，是否可能实现。
　
　　“明天镜子就要搬到一个新的地方了，哈利，我请你不要再去找它了。如果你哪天碰巧看见它，你要有心理准备。沉湎于虚幻的梦想，而忘记现实的生活，这是毫无益处的，千万记住。好了，为什么不穿上那件奇妙无比的隐形衣回去睡觉呢？”
　
　　哈利站了起来。
　
　　“先生……邓布利多教授……我可以问你一句话吗？”
　
　　“那还用说，你刚才就这么做了。”邓布利多笑了，“不过，你还可以再问我一个问题。”
　
　　“你照魔镜的时候，看见了什么？”
　
　　“我——我看见自己拿着一双厚厚的羊毛袜。”
　
　　哈利睁大了眼睛。
　
　　“袜子永远不够穿，”邓布利多说，“圣诞节来了又去，我一双袜子也没有收到。人们坚持要送书给我。”
　
　　哈利直到回到床上以后，才突然想到邓布利多也许并没有说实话。可是，当他推开枕头上的斑斑时，又想：那是一个涉及隐私的问题啊。
　

　
　　①在英语里，“珀西”和“级长”这两个词的第一个字母都是“Ｐ”。
　　②这行字是厄里斯魔镜上的符。

　第十三章　尼可·勒梅
　
　

　
　　邓布利多说服哈利不要再去寻找厄里斯魔镜，所以在圣诞假期剩下来的日子里，那件隐形衣就一直叠得好好的，放在箱子底部。哈利希望他能轻松地忘记他在魔镜里看到的东西，然而不能。他开始做噩梦。他一遍遍地梦见爸爸妈妈在突如其来的一道绿光中消失，同时还有一个很响的声音在嘎嘎怪笑。
　
　　“你看，邓布利多说得对，魔镜可能会使你发疯的。”当哈利把这些梦境告诉罗恩时，罗恩这么说。
　
　　赫敏在开学前一天回来了，她的看法有所不同。她心情十分复杂，一方面为哈利接连三个夜里从床上起来，在学校里游荡而感到惊恐（“费尔奇把你抓住怎么办！”），一方面又为哈利连尼可勒梅是谁都没有弄清而深感失望。
　
　　他们几乎放弃了在图书馆可以查到勒梅的希望，尽管哈利仍然坚信自己在什么地方看到过这个名字。学期开始后，他们又恢复了利用课间休息十分钟的时间浏览图书的做法，但哈利的时间比他们俩更少，因为魁地奇训练又开始了。
　
　　伍德对队员的要求比以往任何时候都严格。即使在大雪过后连绵不断的阴雨天里，他的劲头也没有半点冷却。韦斯莱孪生兄弟抱怨说伍德正在变成一个训练狂，但哈利却站在伍德一边。如果他们赢得下一场对赫奇帕奇的比赛，他们就能在学院杯中战胜斯莱特林队了，这可是七年以来的第一次啊。除了希望比赛取胜以外，哈利还发现，当他训练之后筋疲力尽时，噩梦就做得少了。
　
　　后来，在一次特别潮湿和泥泞的训练中，伍德告诉队员们一个坏消息。他刚才对韦斯莱孪生兄弟发了一顿脾气，因为他们不停地彼此俯冲轰炸，假装从飞天扫帚上摔下来。
　
　　“你们能不能别再胡闹了！”伍德嚷道，“这样做肯定会使我们输掉比赛！这次是斯内普当裁判，他肯定会千方百计找借口给格兰芬多队扣分的！”
　
　　乔治韦斯莱听了这话，真的从飞天扫帚上摔了下来。
　
　　“斯内普当裁判？”他一边吐着嘴里的泥土，一边问，“他什么时候当过魁地奇比赛的裁判？如果我们有可能战胜斯莱特林队，他肯定不会公正裁决的。”
　
　　其他队员也都降落在乔治旁边，连声抱怨。
　
　　“这不能怪我。”伍德说，“我们只能保证自己在比赛中遵守规则，斯内普也就没有借口找我们的岔子了。”
　
　　这是非常正确的，哈利想，但他还有一个理由，那就是不想让斯内普在比赛时接近他……
　
　　训练结束后，其他队员还在磨磨蹭蹭地聊天，哈利却直奔格兰芬多的公共休息室，他发现罗恩和赫敏正在那里下棋。赫敏只有在下棋时才会输，哈利和罗恩认为这对她很有好处。
　
　　“先别跟我说话，”哈利在罗恩身边坐下时，罗恩说，“我需要考虑……”可他一看见哈利的脸，又说：“你怎么啦？你的脸色真可怕。”
　
　　哈利压低声音，不想让别人听见，把斯内普不怀好意地突然想当魁地奇裁判的事告诉了他俩。
　
　　“别参加比赛。”赫敏立刻就说。
　
　　“就说你病了。”罗恩说。
　
　　“假装把腿摔断。”赫敏建议道。
　
　　“真的把腿摔断。”罗恩说。
　
　　“我不能这样，”哈利说，“队里没有替补的找球手。如果我退出，格兰芬多队就无法比赛了。”
　
　　就在这时，纳威一头跌进了公共休息室。大家都猜不出他是怎么从肖像洞口钻出来的，因为他的两条腿紧紧粘在一起。哈利他们一眼就看出，这是被施了锁腿魔咒。他肯定是像兔子那样一路蹦跳着上楼，进入格兰芬多城堡的。
　
　　大伙儿都笑了起来，只有赫敏没笑。她跳上前去，给纳威解咒，纳威的腿一下子分开了。他站了起来，浑身颤抖。
　
　　“怎么回事？”赫敏把他领过来，和哈利、罗恩坐在一起，一边问道。
　
　　“马尔福，”纳成声音发抖地说，“我在图书馆外面碰到他。他说他一直在找人练习练习那个咒。”
　
　　“去找麦格教授！”赫敏催促纳威，“告他一状！”
　
　　纳威摇了摇头。
　
　　“我不想再惹麻烦了。”他含糊地咕哝。
　
　　“你必须勇敢地对付他，纳威！”罗恩说，“他一贯盛气凌人，我们没有理由在他面前屈服，使他轻易得逞。”
　
　　“你不用对我说我胆子太小，不配待在格兰芬多，马尔福已经对我说过这个话了。”纳威哽咽着说。
　
　　哈利把手伸进长袍口袋，掏出一块马蹄形巧克力，这是圣诞节时赫敏送给他的那盒里的最后一块。哈利把它递给纳威。纳威看上去快要哭了。
　
　　“你比十二个马尔福都强，”哈利说道，“分院帽把你选进了格兰芬多，是吗？马尔福在哪里呢？在令人讨厌的斯莱特林。”
　
　　纳威拆开马蹄形巧克力，嘴唇抽动着，露出一个无力的微笑。
　
　　“谢谢你，哈利。我想去睡觉了……你要卡片吗？你收集卡片的，是吗？”
　
　　纳威离去后，哈利看着那张著名巫师卡。
　
　　“又是邓布利多，”他说，“我第一次就是……”
　
　　他倒抽一口冷气，瞪着卡片背面，然后抬头看着罗恩和赫敏。
　
　　“我找到他了！”他小声说，“我找到勒梅了！我告诉过你们，我以前在什么地方看过这个名字，原来，我是在来这儿的火车上看到的——听听这个：‘邓布利多广为人知的贡献包括：一九四五年击败黑巫师格林德沃，发现龙血的十二种用途，与合作伙伴尼可勒梅在炼金术方面卓有成效！’”
　
　　赫敏一跃而起。自从他们第一次家庭作业的成绩下来之后，她还没有这么兴奋过。
　
　　“等着！”她说，然后飞奔上楼，到女生宿舍去了。哈利和罗恩还没来得及交换一下困惑的目光，她就又冲了回来，怀里抱着一本巨大的旧书。
　
　　“我就没想到在这里找找！”她激动地低声说，“这是几星期前我从图书馆借出来的，想读着消遣的。”
　
　　“消遣？”罗恩说，可是赫敏叫他安静，让她查找一个东西。她开始飞快地翻动书页，一边嘴里念念有词。
　
　　终于，她找到了。
　
　　“我知道了！我知道了！”
　
　　“我们现在可以说话了吧？”罗恩没好气地说。
　
　　赫敏不理睬他。“尼可勒梅，”她像演戏一样压低声音说，“是人们所知的魔法石的惟一制造者！”
　
　　她的话并没有取得她预期的效果。
　
　　“什么石？”哈利和罗恩问。
　
　　“哦，怎么搞的，你们俩平常看不看书？瞧——读读这一段。”
　
　　她把书推给他们，哈利和罗恩读道：古代炼金术涉及魔法石的炼造，这是一种具有惊人功能的神奇物质。魔法石能把任何金属变成纯金，还能制造出长生不老药，使喝了这种药的人永远不死。
　
　　许多世纪以来，关于魔法石有过许多报道，但目前惟一仅存的一块魔法石属于著名炼金术士和歌剧爱好者尼可勒梅先生。他去年庆祝了六百六十五岁生日，现与妻子佩雷纳尔（六百五十八岁）一起隐居于德文郡。
　
　　“明白了吗？”哈利和罗恩读完后，赫敏问道。“那条大狗一定是在看守勒梅的魔法石！我敢说是勒梅请邓布利多替他保管的，因为他们是朋友，而且他知道有人在打魔法石的主意。所以他才把魔法石从古灵阁转移了出来。”
　
　　“一块石头能变出金子，还能使你永远不死！”哈利说，“怪不得斯内普也在打它的主意呢！谁都会想得到它的！”
　
　　“怪不得我们在《近代巫术发展研究》里找不到勒梅，”罗恩说，“既然他已经六百六十五岁，就不能算是近代了，是吧？”
　
　　第二天上午在黑魔法防御术的课上，哈利和罗恩一边记录被狼人咬伤后的多种医治办法，一边还在讨论如果他们弄到魔法石将怎么办。直到罗恩说他要买下一个自己的魁地奇球队时，哈利才想起斯内普和即将到来的比赛。
　
　　“我必须参加比赛，”他对罗恩和赫敏说，“如果我退出，斯莱特林们就会认为我害怕了，不敢面对斯内普。我要让他们看看……而如果我们赢了，就会彻底清除他们脸上得意的笑容。”
　
　　“只要我们不把你从赛场上清除就行。”赫敏说。
　
　　比赛渐渐临近，哈利虽然对罗恩和赫敏的说法满不在乎，但他的心情越来越紧张了，其他队员也不太平静。一想到要在学院杯比赛中战胜斯莱特林，大家就激动不已。在将近七年的时间里，还没有人能够打败他们。然而，有这样一个偏心的裁判，他们能成功吗？
　
　　哈利不知道是他多心呢还是事实如此，似乎他不管走到哪里，都会碰到斯内普。有时，他甚至怀疑斯内普在跟踪他，想独自把他抓住。每周一次的魔药课变成了一种痛苦的折磨，斯内普对哈利的态度很恶劣。难道斯内普知道他们发现了魔法石的奥秘？哈利不明白他怎么能知道——哈利经常有一种可怕的感觉，似乎斯内普能看透别人的思想。
　
　　第二天下午，当罗恩和赫敏在更衣室外面祝他好运时，哈利知道，他们实际上在暗暗担心再也见不到他活着回来了。这样能给他什么安慰呢？哈利穿上魁地奇球服，拿起他的光轮2000，对伍德的鼓舞士气的话根本没听进去。
　
　　与此同时，罗恩和赫敏在看台上找了个地方，就在纳威旁边。纳威不明白他们为什么显得这么沉重和担忧，也不明白他们为什么都把自己的魔杖带到赛场上来了。哈利不知道罗恩和赫敏一直在偷偷练习锁腿咒。他们从马尔福给纳威念咒这件事中获得启发，打算一旦斯内普显示出要伤害哈利的苗头，就对他念咒。
　
　　“记住，别忘了，是‘腿立僵停死’。”罗恩把魔杖插在袖子上时，赫敏小声地说。
　
　　“我知道，”罗恩不耐烦地说，“别唠叨了。”
　
　　在更衣室里，伍德把哈利拉到一边。
　
　　“我不是想给你施加压力，波特，但我们今天比任何时候都需要尽快抓住飞贼。我们要速战速决，不让斯内普有时间过分偏袒赫奇帕奇。”
　
　　“全校学生都出来了！”弗雷德韦斯莱朝门外窥视，说道，“就连——天哪
——邓布利多也来看比赛了！”
　
　　哈利的心猛地翻腾了一下。“邓布利多？”他说着，快步冲到门口，想确认一下。
　
　　弗雷德说得对。那银白色的胡子决不会有错。哈利一下子如释重负，差点儿放声大笑起来。他没有危险了。如果邓布利多在场观看比赛，斯内普是绝对不敢伤害他的。也许正是因为这一点，当队员们排着队走向赛场时，斯内普才显得那么恼火，这点罗恩也注意到了。
　
　　“我从没看见斯内普脸色这么阴沉。”他对赫敏说，“看——他们出发了。唉哟！”
　
　　有人捅了一下罗恩的后脑勺。是马尔福。
　
　　“哦，对不起，韦斯莱，没看见你在那儿。”
　
　　马尔福对克拉布和高尔咧嘴大笑。
　
　　“不知道波特这次能在他的飞天扫帚上待多长时间？有人愿意打赌吗？你怎么样，韦斯莱？”
　
　　罗恩没有回答。斯内普刚才判给赫奇帕奇队一个罚球，因为乔治把一只游走球对准他打了过来。赫敏十指交叉①着放在膝盖上，眯起眼睛紧紧地盯着哈利。只见哈利像老鹰一样围着赛场盘旋，寻找金色飞贼。
　
　　“你知道格兰芬多队是怎么挑选队员的吗？”几分钟后，当斯内普毫无道理地又判给赫奇帕奇队一个罚球时，马尔福大声说道，“他们挑选的是那些他们觉得可怜的人。比如波特，没爹没妈，还有韦斯莱兄弟，家里没钱——你也应该入队呀，纳威·隆巴顿，因为你没有头脑。”
　
　　纳威脸涨得通红，他从椅子上转过身子，面对马尔福。
　
　　“我比十二个你加在一起都强，马尔福。”他结结巴巴地说。
　
　　马尔福、克拉布和高尔怪声怪气地大笑起来，罗恩不敢让眼睛离开赛场，嘴里说：“给他点厉害瞧瞧，纳威。”
　
　　“隆巴顿，如果头脑是金子，你就比韦斯莱还穷，这就很能说明问题了。”
　
　　罗恩一直为哈利揪着心，紧张得神经都要绷断了。
　
　　“我警告你，马尔福——你再敢说一句——”
　
　　“罗恩！”赫敏突然说道，“哈利——！”
　
　　“怎么啦？在哪儿？”
　
　　哈利突然来了一个漂亮的俯冲，使观众们发出一片惊呼和喝彩。赫敏站了起来，交叉着的手指放在嘴里②，只见哈利像一颗子弹一样射向地面。
　
　　“你很幸运，韦斯莱，波特显然看见了地上有钱！”马尔福说。
　
　　罗恩迅速行动起来。马尔福还没明白是怎么回事，罗恩就蹿到了他身上，把他摔倒在地。纳威迟疑了一下，也从座椅背上翻过来相助。
　
　　“快点，哈利！”赫敏尖叫着，跳上座位，看着哈利径直向斯内普冲去——她甚至没有注意到马尔福和罗恩在她座位下滚成一团，也没有注意到纳威、克拉布和高尔扭打在一起，拳脚相加，痛得发出一声声尖叫。
　
　　在空中，斯内普刚刚启动飞天扫帚，就看见一个金色的东西“嗖”地从他耳边飞过，离他只差几寸——紧接着，哈利停止了俯冲。他胜利地举起手臂，飞贼被他紧紧地抓在手里。
　
　　看台上沸腾了。这将是一个新的记录，谁都不记得在哪次比赛中飞贼这么快就被抓住了。
　
　　“罗恩，罗恩！你在哪里？比赛结束了！哈利赢了！我们赢了！格兰芬多队领先了！”赫敏尖叫着，在椅子上跳个不停，并紧紧拥抱了一下前排的佩蒂尔。
　
　　哈利在离地面一英尺的高度从飞天扫帚上跳下来。他简直无法相信。他成功了——比赛结束了，只持续了不到五分钟。
　
　　当格兰芬多学生拥进赛场时，哈利看见斯内普降落在他旁边，脸色煞白，嘴唇抿得紧紧的——接着，哈利感到一只手搭在了他的肩膀上。他抬起头来，看到了邓布利多微笑的脸。
　
　　“干得好，”邓布利多声音很轻，只有哈利一个人能听见，“很高兴看到你没有整天想着那面魔镜……生活得很充实……太好了……”斯内普愤恨地朝地上吐了口唾沫。
　
　　一小时之后，哈利独自离开更衣室，要把他的光轮2000送回扫帚棚。他的心情比任何时候都要欢快。他总算做了一件真正值得自豪的事——以后再也不会有人说他只不过是有一个响亮的名字而已。夜晚的空气从未像现在这样甜蜜。他走过潮湿的草地，刚才一小时的情景又在脑海中重现，是一些模糊不清的幸福的片断：格兰芬多学生跑过来把他架在他们的肩膀上；罗恩和赫敏在远处跳上跳下，罗恩一边淌着鼻血，一边欢呼雀跃。
　
　　哈利已经来到了扫帚棚。他靠在木门上，抬头望着霍格沃茨，那些窗户在夕阳的辉映下闪着红光。格兰芬多队领先了。他成功了，他使斯内普看到——说到斯内普——
　
　　一个戴着兜帽的身影迅速走下城堡的正门台阶，显然是不想让人看见，飞快地直奔禁林而去。哈利注视着，心头胜利的喜悦渐渐消失了。他认出了那个身影的鬼鬼祟祟的步态，正是斯内普。他趁别人吃晚饭的时候，偷偷溜往禁林——他想干什么？哈利跳回到飞天扫帚上，腾地起飞了。他悄无声息地滑过城堡上空，看见斯内普奔跑着进了禁林。他跟了过去。
　
　　树木太茂密了，他看不清斯内普去了哪里。他盘旋着，越来越低，擦着树梢飞翔，最后终于听见了有人说话的声音。他轻盈地朝他们飞去，静悄悄地落在一棵高耸的山毛榉上。
　
　　他小心地顺着一根树枝往前爬，手里紧紧抓住飞天扫帚，他想透过树叶往下看。
　
　　下面，在一片布满阴影的空地上，站着斯内普，但他并不是一个人。奇洛也在那里。哈利看不清他脸上的表情，但他结巴得比任何时候都厉害。哈利全神贯注地听他们在说什么。
　
　　“……不——不知道你为什么要——要选在这里见面，西弗勒斯……”
　
　　“噢，我认为这事不宜公开，”斯内普说，声音冷冰冰的，“毕竟，学生们是不应该知道魔法石的。”
　
　　哈利探身向前。
　
　　奇洛正在嘀咕着什么。斯内普打断了他，“你有没有弄清怎样才能制服海格的那头怪兽？”
　
　　“可——可——可是，西弗勒斯，我——”
　
　　“你不希望我与你为敌吧，奇洛。”斯内普说着，朝他逼近了一步。
　
　　“我——我不知——知道你——”
　
　　“你很清楚我的意思。”
　
　　一只猫头鹰高声叫了起来，哈利差点儿从树上摔了下去。他稳住自己，正好听见斯内普说，“……你的秘密小花招。我等着。”
　
　　“可——可是，我不——不——不——”
　
　　“很好。”斯内普打断了他，“过不了多久，等你有时间考虑清楚，决定了为谁效忠之后，我们还会再谈一次。”
　
　　他用斗篷罩住脑袋，大步流星地走出了空地。天几乎完全黑了，但哈利仍能看见奇洛一动不动地站在那里，像一具泥塑木雕。
　
　　“哈利，你上哪儿去了？”赫敏尖声地说。
　
　　“我们赢了！你赢了！我们赢了！”罗恩重重地拍了一下哈利的后背，大声喊道，“我把马尔福的眼睛打青了。纳威一个人对付克拉布和高尔！他还完全昏迷着，但庞弗雷夫人说他会好起来的——谈谈教训斯莱特林的经过吧！大伙儿都在公共休息室里等着你呢，我们正在搞一个庆祝会，弗雷德和乔治从厨房里偷了一些蛋糕什么的。”
　
　　“先别管那些，”哈利气喘吁吁地说，“我们找一间空屋子，你们听我告诉你们……”
　
　　哈利确信皮皮鬼不在屋里之后，才回身关上房门，然后把他刚才看到和听到的情形告诉了他们。
　
　　“这么说，我们分析得对，那东西一定就是魔法石，斯内普想强迫奇洛帮助他拿到那块石头。他问奇洛是不是知道怎样制服路威——并提到奇洛的‘秘密小花招’——我猜想，除了路威，大概还有其他机关在守护着那块石头，很可能有一大堆魔法巫术，说不定奇洛就施了一些反黑魔法的咒语，斯内普需要把它们解除——”
　
　　“你的意思是说，只有当奇洛能够抵抗斯内普时，魔法石才是安全的？”赫敏惊慌地问。
　
　　“那石头下个星期二就不在了。”罗恩说。
　

　
　　①这里指的是赫敏在为哈利祈祷。
　　②这里指的是赫敏在为哈利祈祷。

　

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　　CHAPTER FOURTEEN
　　NORBERT THE NORWEGIAN RIDGEBACK
　　Quirrell, however, must have been braver than they'd thought. In the weeks that followed he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn't look as though he'd cracked yet.
　　Every time they passed the third-floor corridor, Harry, Ron, and Hermione would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still growling inside. Snape was sweeping about in his usual bad temper, which surely meant that the Stone was still safe. Whenever Harry passed Quirrell these days he gave him an encouraging sort of smile, and Ron had started telling people off for laughing at Quirrell's stutter.
　　Hermione, however, had more on her mind than the Sorcerer's Stone. She had started drawing up study schedules and colorcoding all her notes. Harry and Ron wouldn't have minded, but she kept nagging them to do the same.
　　"Hermione, the exams are ages away."
　　"Ten weeks," Hermione snapped. "That's not ages, that's like a second to Nicolas Flamel."
　　"But we're not six hundred years old," Ron reminded her. "Anyway, what are you studying for, you already know it A."
　　"What am I studying for? Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into the second year? They're very important, I should have started studying a month ago, I don't know what's gotten into me...."
　　Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. It was hard to relax with Hermione next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood or practicing wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Harry and Ron spent most of their free time in the library with her, trying to get through all their extra work.
　　"I'll never remember this," Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library window. It was the first really fine day they'd had in months. The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming.
　　Harry, who was looking up "Dittany" in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, didn't look up until he heard Ron say, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"
　　Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.
　　"Jus' lookin'," he said, in a shifty voice that got their interest at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?" He looked suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?" "Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," said Ron impressively. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Sorcerer's St --"
　　"Shhhh!" Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. "Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"
　　"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," said Harry, "about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy --"
　　"SHHHH!" said Hagrid again. "Listen - come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh --"
　　"See you later, then," said Harry.
　　Hagrid shuffled off.
　　"What was he hiding behind his back?" said Hermione thoughtfully.
　　"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?"
　　"I'm going to see what section he was in," said Ron, who'd had enough of working. He came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slammed them down on the table.
　　"Dragons!" he whispered. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide."
　　"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him, " said Harry.
　　"But it's against our laws," said Ron. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden - anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."
　　"But there aren't wild dragons in Britain?" said Harry.
　　"Of course there are," said Ron. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."
　　"So what on earths Hagrid up to?" said Hermione.
　　When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, they were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. Hagrid called "Who is it?" before he let them in, and then shut the door quickly behind them.
　　It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat sandwiches, which they refused.
　　"So -- yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"
　　"Yes," said Harry. There was no point beating around the bush. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Sorcerer's Stone apart from Fluffy."
　　Hagrid frowned at him.
　　"0' course I cant, he said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It Was almost stolen outta Gringotts - I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."
　　"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on round here," said Hermione in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitched and they could tell he was smiling. "We only wondered who had done the guarding, really." Hermione went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."
　　Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words. Harry and Ron beamed at Hermione.
　　"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that... let's see... he borrowed Fluffy from me... then some o' the teachers did enchantments... Professor Sprout -- Professor Flitwick -- Professor McGonagall --" he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell -- an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."
　　"Snape?"
　　"Yeah -- yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."
　　Harry knew Ron and Hermione were thinking the same as he was. If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything -- except, it seemed, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy.
　　"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy. aren't you, Hagrid?" said Harry anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"
　　"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly.
　　"Well, that's something," Harry muttered to the others. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling."
　　"Can't, Harry, sorry," said Hagrid. Harry noticed him glance at the fire. Harry looked at it, too.
　　"Hagrid -- what's that?"
　　But he already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.
　　"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's er..."
　　"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Ron, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune."
　　"Won it," said Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."
　　"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" said Hermione.
　　"Well, I've bin doin' some readin' , said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library -- Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit -- it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on I em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here -- how ter recognize diff'rent eggs -- what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."
　　He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn't.
　　"Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," she said.
　　But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.
　　So now they had something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut. "Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighed, as evening after evening they struggled through all the extra homework they were getting. Hermione had now started making study schedules for Harry and Ron, too. It was driving them nuts.
　　Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry another note from Hagrid. He had written only two words: It's hatching.
　　Ron wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. Hermione wouldn't hear of it.
　　"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"
　　"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing --"
　　"Shut up!" Harry whispered.
　　Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. How much had he heard? Harry didn't like the look on Malfoy's face at all.
　　Ron and Hermione argued all the way to Herbology and in the end, Hermione agreed to run down to Hagrid's with the other two during morning break. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of their lesson, the three of them dropped their trowels at once and hurried through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted them, looking flushed and excited.
　　"It's nearly out." He ushered them inside.
　　The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.
　　They all drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.
　　All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn't exactly pretty; Harry thought it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.
　　It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.
　　"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs.
　　"Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!" said Hagrid.
　　"Hagrid," said Hermione, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"
　　Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face -- he leapt to his feet and ran to the window.
　　"What's the matter?"
　　"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains -- it's a kid -- he's runnin' back up ter the school."
　　Harry bolted to the door and looked out. Even at a distance there was no mistaking him.
　　Malfoy had seen the dragon.
　　Something about the smile lurking on Malfoy's face during the next week made Harry, Ron, and Hermione very nervous. They spent most of their free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him.
　　"Just let him go," Harry urged. "Set him free."
　　"I can't," said Hagrid. "He's too little. He'd die."
　　They looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.
　　"I've decided to call him Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mommy?"
　　"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered in Harry's ear.
　　"Hagrid," said Harry loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment."
　　 Hagrid bit his lip.
　　"I -- I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."
　　Harry suddenly turned to Ron. Charlie, he said.
　　"You're losing it, too," said Ron. "I'm Ron, remember?"
　　"No -- Charlie -- your brother, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!"
　　"Brilliant!" said Ron. "How about it, Hagrid?"
　　And in the end, Hagrid agreed that they could send -an owl to Charlie to ask him.
　　The following week dragged by. Wednesday night found Hermione and Harry sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. The clock on the wall had just
　　chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst open. Ron appeared out of nowhere as he pulled off Harry's invisibility cloak. He had been down at Hagrid's hut, helping him feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate.
　　"It bit me!" he said, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby."
　　There was a tap on the dark window.
　　"It's Hedwig!" said Harry, hurrying to let her in. "She'll have Charlie's answer!"
　　The three of them put their heads together to read the note.
　　Dear Ron,
　　How are you? Thanks for the letter -- I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon.
　　Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark.
　　Send me an answer as soon as possible.
　　Love,
　　Charlie
　　They looked at one another.
　　"We've got the invisibility cloak," said Harry. "It shouldn't be too difficult -- I think the cloaks big enough to cover two of us and Norbert."
　　It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the other two agreed with him. Anything to get rid of Norbert -- and Malfoy.
　　There was a hitch. By the next morning, Ron's bitten hand had swollen to twice its usual size. He didn't know whether it was safe to go to Madam Pomfrey -- would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, he had no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert's fangs were poisonous.
　　Harry and Hermione rushed up to the hospital wing at the end of the day to find Ron in a terrible state in bed.
　　"It's not just my hand," he whispered, "although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me -- I've told her it was a dog, but I don't think she believes me -I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this."
　　Harry and Hermione tried to calm Ron down.
　　"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," said Hermione, but this didn't soothe Ron at all. On the contrary, he sat bolt upright and broke into a sweat.
　　"Midnight on Saturday!" he said in a hoarse voice. "Oh no oh no -- I've just remembered -- Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."
　　Harry and Hermione didn't get a chance to answer. Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment and made them leave, saying Ron needed sleep.
　　"It's too late to change the plan now," Harry told Hermione. "We haven't got time to send Charlie another owl, and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. And we have got the invisibility cloak, Malfoy doesn't know about that."
　　They found Fang, the boarhound, sitting outside with a bandaged tail when they went to tell Hagrid, who opened a window to talk to them.
　　"I won't let you in," he puffed. "Norbert's at a tricky stage -- nothin' I can't handle."
　　When they told him about Charlie's letter, his eyes filled with tears, although that might have been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg.
　　"Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot -- jus' playin' -- he's only a baby, after all."
　　The baby banged its tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. Harry and Hermione walked back to the castle feeling Saturday couldn't come quickly enough.
　　They would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came for him to say good-bye to Norbert if they hadn't been so worried about what they had to do. It was a very dark, cloudy night, and they were a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because they'd had to wait for Peeves to get out of their way in the entrance hall, where he'd been playing tennis against the wall. Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.
　　"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."
　　From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded to Harry as though the teddy was having his head torn off.
　　"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed, as Harry and Hermione covered the crate with the invisibility cloak and stepped underneath it themselves. "Mommy will never forget you!"
　　How they managed to get the crate back up to the castle, they never knew. Midnight ticked nearer as they heaved Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. UP another staircase, then another -- even one of Harry's shortcuts didn't make the work much easier.
　　"Nearly there!" Harry panted as they reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower.
　　Then a sudden movement ahead of them made them almost drop the crate. Forgetting that they were already invisible, they shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A lamp flared.
　　Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, had Malfoy by the ear.
　　"Detention!" she shouted. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you --"
　　"You don't understand, Professor. Harry Potter's coming -- he's got a dragon!"
　　"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on -- I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"
　　The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until they'd stepped out into the cold night air did they throw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again. Hermione did a sort of jig.
　　"Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!"
　　"Don't," Harry advised her.
　　Chuckling about Malfoy, they waited, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness.
　　Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They showed Harry and Hermione the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and then Harry and Hermione shook hands with the others and thanked them very much.
　　At last, Norbert was going... going... gone.
　　They slipped back down the spiral staircase, their hearts as light as their hands, now that Norbert was off them. No more dragon -- Malfoy in detention -- what could spoil their happiness?
　　The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As they stepped into the corridor, Filch's face loomed suddenly out of the darkness.
　　"Well, well, well," he whispered, "we are in trouble."
　　They'd left the invisibility cloak on top of the tower.
　　CHAPTER FIFTEEN
　　THE FORIBIDDEN FOREST
　　Things couldn't have been worse.
　　Filch took them down to Professor McGonagall's study on the first floor, where they sat and waited without saying a word to each other. Hermione was trembling. Excuses, alibis, and wild cover- up stories chased each other around Harry's brain, each more feeble than the last. He couldn't see how they were going to get out of trouble this time. They were cornered. How could they have been so stupid as to forget the cloak? There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for their being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night, let alone being up the tallest astronomy tower, which was out-of-bounds except for classes. Add Norbert and the invisibility cloak, and they might as well be packing their bags already.
　　Had Harry thought that things couldn't have been worse? He was wrong. When Professor McGonagall appeared, she was leading Neville.
　　"Harry!" Neville burst Out, the moment he saw the other two. "I was trying to find you to warn you, I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you, he said you had a drag --"
　　Harry shook his head violently to shut Neville up, but Professor McGonagall had seen. She looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert as she towered over the three of them.
　　"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves."
　　It was the first time Hermione had ever failed to answer a teacher's question. She was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue.
　　"I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," said Professor McGonagall. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. I suppose you think it's funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too?"
　　Harry caught Neville's eye and tried to tell him without words that this wasn't true, because Neville was looking stunned and hurt. Poor, blundering Neville -- Harry knew what it must have cost him to try and find them in the dark, to warn them.
　　"I'm disgusted," said Professor McGonagall. "Four students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All three of you will receive detentions -- yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom, nothing gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous -- and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."
　　"Fifty?" Harry gasped -- they would lose the lead, the lead he'd won in the last Quidditch match.
　　"Fifty points each," said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.
　　"Professor -- please
　　"You can't --"
　　"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Potter. Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."
　　A hundred and fifty points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one night, they'd ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the house cup. Harry felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. How could they ever make up for this?
　　Harry didn't sleep all night. He could hear Neville sobbing into his pillow for what seemed like hours. Harry couldn't think of anything to say to comfort him. He knew Neville, like himself, was dreading the dawn. What would happen when the rest of Gryffindor found out what they'd done?
　　At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the house points the next day thought there'd been a mistake. How could they suddenly have a hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter, their hero of two Quidditch matches, had lo st them all those points, him and a couple of other stupid first years.
　　From being one of the most popular and admired people at the school, Harry was suddenly the most hated. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on him, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the house cup. Everywhere Harry went, people pointed and didn't trouble to lower their voices as they insulted him. Slytherins, on the other hand, clapped as he walked past them, whistling and cheering, "Thanks Potter, we owe you one!"
　　Only Ron stood by him.
　　"They'll all forget this in a few weeks. Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the time they've been here, and people still like them."
　　"They've never lost a hundred and fifty points in one go, though, have they?" said Harry miserably.
　　"Well -- no," Ron admitted.
　　It was a bit late to repair the damage, but Harry swore to himself not to meddle in things that weren't his business from now on. He'd had it with sneaking around and spying. He felt so ashamed of himself that he went to Wood and offered to resign from the Quidditch team.
　　"Resign?" Wood thundered. "What good'll that do? How are we going to get any points back if we can't win at Quidditch?"
　　But even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn't speak to Harry during practice, and if they had to speak about him, they called him "the Seeker."
　　Hermione and Neville were suffering, too. They didn't have as bad a time as Harry, because they weren't as well-known, but nobody would speak to them, either. Hermione had stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her head down and working in silence.
　　Harry was almost glad that the exams weren't far away. All the studying he had to do kept his mind off his misery. He, Ron, and Hermione kept to themselves, working late into the night, trying to remember the ingredients in complicated potions, learn charms and spells by heart, memorize the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions....
　　Then, about a week before the exams were due to start, Harry's new resolution not to interfere in anything that didn't concern him was put to an unexpected test. Walking back from the library on his own one afternoon, he heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As he drew closer, he heard Quirrell's voice.
　　"No -- no -- not again, please --"
　　It sounded as though someone was threatening him. Harry moved closer.
　　"All right -- all right --" he heard Quirrell sob.
　　Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom straightening his turban. He was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. He strode out of sight; Harry didn't think Quirrell had even noticed him. He waited until Quirrell's footsteps had disappeared, then peered into the classroom. It was empty, but a door stood ajar at the other end. Harry was halfway toward it before he remembered what he'd promised himself about not meddling.
　　All the same, he'd have gambled twelve Sorcerer's Stones that Snape had just left the room, and from what Harry had just heard, Snape would be walking with a new spring in his step -- Quirrell seemed to have given in at last.
　　Harry went back to the library, where Hermione was testing Ron on Astronomy. Harry told them what he'd heard.
　　"Snape's done it, then!" said Ron. "If Quirrell's told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell --"
　　"There's still Fluffy, though," said Hermione.
　　"Maybe Snape's found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid," said Ron, looking up at the thousands of books surrounding them. "I bet there's a book somewhere in here telling you how to get past a giant three-headed dog. So what do we do, Harry?"
　　The light of adventure was kindling again in Ron's eyes, but Hermione answered before Harry could.
　　"Go to Dumbledore. That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves we'll be thrown out for sure."
　　"But we've got no proof!" said Harry. "Quirrell's too scared to back us up. Snape's only got to say he doesn't know how the troll got in at Halloween and that he was nowhere near the third floor -- who do you think they'll believe, him or us? It's not exactly a secret we hate him, Dumbledore'll think we made it up to get him sacked. Filch wouldn't help us if his life depended on it, he's too friendly with Snape, and the more students get thrown out, the better, he'll think. And don't forget, we're not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That'll take a lot of explaining."
　　Hermione looked convinced, but Ron didn't.
　　"If we just do a bit of poking around --"
　　"No," said Harry flatly, "we've done enough poking around."
　　He pulled a map of Jupiter toward him and started to learn the names of its moons.
　　The following morning, notes were delivered to Harry, Hermione, and Neville at the breakfast table. They were all the same:
　　Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight. Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall.
　　Professor McGonagall Harry had forgotten they still had detentions to do in the furor over the points they'd lost. He half expected Hermione to complain that this was a whole night of studying lost, but she didn't say a word. Like Harry, she felt they deserved what they'd got.
　　At eleven o'clock that night, they said good-bye to Ron in the common room and went down to the entrance hall with Neville. Filch was already there -- and so was Malfoy. Harry had also forgotten that Malfoy had gotten a detention, too.
　　"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside.
　　I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he said, leering at them. "Oh yes... hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me.... It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out... hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed.... Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."
　　They marched off across the dark grounds. Neville kept sniffing. Harry wondered what their punishment was going to be. It must be something really horrible, or Filch wouldn't be sounding so delighted.
　　The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them into darkness. Ahead, Harry could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. Then they heard a distant shout.
　　"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."
　　Harry's heart rose; if they were going to be working with Hagrid it wouldn't be so bad. His relief must have showed in his -face, because Filch said, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy -- it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."
　　At this, Neville let out a little moan, and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.
　　"The forest?" he repeated, and he didn't sound quite as cool as usual. "We can't go in there at night -- there's all sorts of things in there -- werewolves, I heard."
　　Neville clutched the sleeve of Harry's robe and made a choking noise.
　　"That's your problem, isn't it?" said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"
　　Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder.
　　"Abou' time," he said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Harry, Hermione?"
　　"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," said Filch coldly, they're here to be punished, after all."
　　"That's why yer late, is it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."
　　"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.
　　Malfoy now turned to Hagrid.
　　"I'm not going in that forest, he said, and Harry was pleased to hear the note of panic in his voice.
　　"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yehve got ter pay fer it."
　　"But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he'd
　　tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or Yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on"'
　　Malfoy didn't move. He looked at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped his gaze.
　　"Right then," said Hagrid, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."
　　He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest.
　　"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."
　　"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" said Malfoy, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.
　　"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."
　　"I want Fang," said Malfoy quickly, looking at Fang's long teeth.
　　"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," said Hagrid. " So me, Harry, an' Hermione'll go one way an' Draco, Neville, an' Fang'll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practice now -- that's it -- an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeh -- so, be careful -- let's go."
　　The forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in the earth path, and Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid took the left path while Malfoy, Neville, and Fang took the right.
　　They walked in silence, their eyes on the ground. Every now and then a ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver-blue blood on the fallen leaves.
　　Harry saw that Hagrid looked very worried.
　　"Could a werewolf be killing the unicorns?" Harry asked.
　　"Not fast enough," said Hagrid. "It's not easy ter catch a unicorn, they're powerful magic creatures. I never knew one ter be hurt before."
　　They walked past a mossy tree stump. Harry could hear running water; there must be a stream somewhere close by. There were still spots of unicorn blood here and there along the winding path.
　　"You all right, Hermione?" Hagrid whispered. "Don' worry, it can't've gone far if it's this badly hurt, an' then we'll be able ter -- GET BEHIND THAT TREE!"
　　Hagrid seized Harry and Hermione and hoisted them off the path behind a towering oak. He pulled out an arrow and fitted it into his crossbow, raising it, ready to fire. The three of them listened. Something was slithering over dead leaves nearby: it sounded like a cloak trailing along the ground. Hagrid was squinting up the dark path, but after a few seconds, the sound faded away.
　　"I knew it, " he murmured. "There's summat in here that shouldn' be."
　　"A werewolf?" Harry suggested.
　　"That wasn' no werewolf an' it wasn' no unicorn, neither," said Hagrid grimly. "Right, follow me, but careful, now."
　　They walked more slowly, ears straining for the faintest sound. Suddenly, in a clearing ahead, something definitely moved.
　　"Who's there?" Hagrid called. "Show yerself -- I'm armed!"
　　And into the clearing came -- was it a man, or a horse? To the waist, a man, with red hair and beard, but below that was a horse's gleaming chestnut body with a long, reddish tail. Harry and Hermione's jaws dropped.
　　"Oh, it's you, Ronan," said Hagrid in relief. "How are yeh?"
　　He walked forward and shook the centaur's hand.
　　"Good evening to you, Hagrid," said Ronan. He had a deep, sorrowful voice. "Were you going to shoot me?"
　　"Can't be too careful, Ronan," said Hagrid, patting his crossbow. "There's summat bad loose in this forest. This is Harry Potter an' Hermione Granger, by the way. Students up at the school. An' this is Ronan, you two. He's a centaur.))
　　"We'd noticed," said Hermione faintly.
　　"Good evening," said Ronan. "Students, are you? And do you learn much, up at the school?"
　　"Erm --"
　　"A bit," said Hermione timidly.
　　"A bit. Well, that's something." Ronan sighed. He flung back his head and stared at the sky. "Mars is bright tonight."
　　"Yeah," said Hagrid, glancing up, too. "Listen, I'm glad we've run inter yeh, Ronan, 'cause there's a unicorn bin hurt -- you seen anythin'?"
　　Ronan didn't answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upward, then sighed again.
　　"Always the innocent are the first victims," he said. "So it has been for ages past, so it is now."
　　"Yeah," said Hagrid, "but have yeh seen anythin', Ronan? Anythin' unusual?"
　　"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan repeated, while Hagrid watched him impatiently. "Unusually bright."
　　"Yeah, but I was meanin' anythin' unusual a bit nearer home, said Hagrid. "So yeh haven't noticed anythin' strange?"
　　Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, "The forest hides many secrets."
　　A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur, black-haired and -bodied and wilder-looking than Ronan.
　　"Hullo, Bane," said Hagrid. "All right?"
　　"Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?"
　　"Well enough. Look, I've jus' bin askin' Ronan, you seen anythin' odd in here lately? There's a unicorn bin injured -- would yeh know anythin' about it?"
　　Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He looked skyward. "Mars is bright tonight," he said simply.
　　"We've heard," said Hagrid grumpily. "Well, if either of you do see anythin', let me know, won't yeh? We'll be off, then."
　　Harry and Hermione followed him out of the clearing, staring over their shoulders at Ronan and Bane until the trees blocked their view.
　　"Never," said Hagrid irritably, "try an' get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin' closer'n the moon."
　　"Are there many of them in here?" asked Hermione.
　　"Oh, a fair few... Keep themselves to themselves mostly, but they're good enough about turnin' up if ever I want a word. They're deep, mind, centaurs... they know things... jus' don' let on much."
　　"D'you think that was a centaur we heard earlier?" said Harry.
　　"Did that sound like hooves to you? Nah, if yeh ask me, that was what's bin killin' the unicorns -- never heard anythin' like it before."
　　They walked on through the dense, dark trees. Harry kept looking nervously over his shoulder. He had the nasty feeling they were being watched. He was very glad they had Hagrid and his crossbow with them. They had just passed a bend in the path when Hermione grabbed Hagrid's arm.
　　"Hagrid! Look! Red sparks, the others are in trouble!"
　　"You two wait here!" Hagrid shouted. "Stay on the path, I'll come back for yeh!"
　　They heard him crashing away through the undergrowth and stood looking at each other, very scared, until they couldn't hear anything but the rustling of leaves around them.
　　"You don't think they've been hurt, do you?" whispered Hermione.
　　"I don't care if Malfoy has, but if something's got Neville... it's our fault he's here in the first place."
　　The minutes dragged by. Their ears seemed sharper than usual. Harry's seemed to be picking up every sigh of the wind, every cracking twig. What was going on? Where were the others?
　　At last, a great crunching noise announced Hagrid's return. Malfoy, Neville, and Fang were with him. Hagrid was fuming. Malfoy, it seemed, had sneaked up behind Neville and grabbed him as a joke. Neville had panicked and sent up the sparks.
　　"We'll be lucky ter catch anythin' now, with the racket you two were makin'. Right, we're changin' groups -- Neville, you stay with me an' Hermione, Harry, you go with Fang an' this idiot. I'm sorry," Hagrid added in a whisper to Harry, "but he'll have a harder time frightenin' you, an' we've gotta get this done."
　　So Harry set off into the heart of the forest with Malfoy and Fang. They walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. Harry thought the blood seemed to be getting thicker. There were splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. Harry could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.
　　"Look --" he murmured, holding out his arm to stop Malfoy.
　　Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer.
　　It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Harry had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves.
　　Harry had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made him freeze where he stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered.... Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. Harry, Malfoy, and Fang stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal's side, and began to drink its blood.
　　"AAAAAAAAAARGH!"
　　Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted -- so did Fang. The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Harry -- unicorn blood was dribbling down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward Harry -- he couldn't move for fear.
　　Then a pain like he'd never felt before pierced his head; it was as though his scar were on fire. Half blinded, he staggered backward. He heard hooves behind him, galloping, and something jumped clean over Harry, charging at the figure.
　　The pain in Harry's head was so bad he fell to his knees. It took a minute or two to pass. When he looked up, the figure had gone. A centaur was standing over him, not Ronan or Bane; this one looked younger; he had white-blond hair and a palomino body.
　　"Are you all right?" said the centaur, pulling Harry to his feet.
　　"Yes -- thank you -- what was that?"
　　The centaur didn't answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires. He looked carefully at Harry, his eyes lingering on the scar that stood out, livid, on Harry's forehead.
　　"You are the Potter boy," he said. "You had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at this time -- especially for you. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way.
　　"My name is Firenze," he added, as he lowered himself on to his front legs so that Harry could clamber onto his back.
　　There was suddenly a sound of more galloping from the other side of the clearing. Ronan and Bane came bursting through the trees, their flanks heaving and sweaty.
　　"Firenze!" Bane thundered. "What are you doing? You have a human on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?"
　　"Do you realize who this is?" said Firenze. "This is the Potter boy. The quicker he leaves this forest, the better."
　　"What have you been telling him?" growled Bane. "Remember, Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?"
　　Ronan pawed the ground nervously. "I'm sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best, " he said in his gloomy voice.
　　Bane kicked his back legs in anger.
　　"For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our forest!"
　　Firenze suddenly reared on to his hind legs in anger, so that Harry had to grab his shoulders to stay on.
　　"Do you not see that unicorn?" Firenze bellowed at Bane. "Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must."
　　And Firenze whisked around; with Harry clutching on as best he could, they plunged off into the trees, leaving Ronan and Bane behind them.
　　Harry didn't have a clue what was going on.
　　"Why's Bane so angry?" he asked. "What was that thing you saved me from, anyway?"
　　Firenze slowed to a walk, warned Harry to keep his head bowed in case of low-hanging branches, but did not answer Harry's question. They made their way through the trees in silence for so long that Harry thought Firenze didn't want to talk to him anymore. They were passing through a particularly dense patch of trees, however, when Firenze suddenly stopped.
　　"Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used -for?"
　　"No," said Harry, startled by the odd question. "We've only used the horn and tail hair in Potions."
　　"That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn," said Firenze. "Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips."
　　Harry stared at the back of Firenze's head, which was dappled silver in the moonlight.
　　"But who'd be that desperate?" he wondered aloud. "If you're going to be cursed forever, deaths better, isn't it?"
　　"It is," Firenze agreed, "unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else -- something that will bring you back to full strength and power -- something that will mean you can never die. Mr. Potter, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?"
　　"The Sorcerer's Stone! Of course -- the Elixir of Life! But I don't understand who --"
　　"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?"
　　It was as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around Harry's heart. Over the rustling of the trees, he seemed to hear once more what Hagrid had told him on the night they had met: "Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die."
　　"Do you mean," Harry croaked, "that was Vol-"
　　"Harry! Harry, are you all right?"
　　Hermione was running toward them down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her.
　　"I'm fine," said Harry, hardly knowing what he was saying. "The unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in that clearing back there."
　　"This is where I leave you," Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. "You are safe now."
　　Harry slid off his back.
　　"Good luck, Harry Potter," said Firenze. "The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times."
　　He turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving Harry shivering behind him.
　　Ron had fallen asleep in the dark common room, waiting for them to return. He shouted something about Quidditch fouls when Harry roughly shook him awake. In a matter of seconds, though, he was wide-eyed as Harry began to tell him and Hermione what had happened in the forest.
　　Harry couldn't sit down. He paced up and down in front of the fire. He was still shaking.
　　"Snape wants the stone for Voldemort... and Voldemort's waiting in the forest... and all this time we thought Snape just wanted to get rich...."
　　"Stop saying the name!" said Ron in a terrified whisper, as if he thought Voldemort could hear them.
　　Harry wasn't listening.
　　"Firenze saved me, but he shouldn't have done so.... Bane was furious... he was talking about interfering with what the planets say is going to happen.... They must show that Voldemort's coming back.... Bane thinks Firenze should have let Voldemort kill me.... I suppose that's written in the stars as well."
　　"Will you stop saying the name!" Ron hissed.
　　"So all I've got to wait for now is Snape to steal the Stone," Harry went on feverishly, "then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off... Well, I suppose Bane'll be happy."
　　Hermione looked very frightened, but she had a word of comfort.
　　"Harry, everyone says Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of With Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won't touch you. Anyway, who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me, and Professor McGonagall says that's a very imprecise branch of magic."
　　The sky had turned light before they stopped talking. They went to bed exhausted, their throats sore. But the night's surprises weren't over.
　　When Harry pulled back his sheets, he found his invisibility cloak folded neatly underneath them. There was a note pinned to it:
　　Just in case.

第十四章　挪威脊背龙——诺伯
　
　

　
　　然而，奇洛肯定要比他们所想的勇敢得多。在之后的几个星期中，他看上去确实越来越苍白、消瘦，但并没有显出彻底垮掉的样子。
　
　　每次经过三搂走廊，哈利、罗恩和赫敏都要把耳朵贴在门上，听听路威是不是还在里面低声咆哮。斯内普整天在学校里大步流星地走来走去，脾气和往常一样暴躁，这无疑说明魔法石还是安全的。这些日子，哈利每次在路上碰到奇洛，都要给他一个含有鼓励意味的微笑；罗恩也开始劝说人们别再嘲笑奇洛的结巴。
　
　　赫敏呢，除了魔法石之外，她还操心着更多的事情。她已经开始制订复习计划，并在她所有的笔记上标出不同的颜色。哈利和罗恩本来满不在乎，但她不停地对他们唠叨，叫他们也这样做。
　
　　“赫敏，考试离我们还有好几百年呢。”
　
　　“十个星期，”赫敏反驳道，“不是好几百年，对尼可勒梅来说，只是一眨眼的工夫。”
　
　　“可是我们也没有六百岁啊，”罗恩提醒她，“而且，不管怎么说，你为什么还要复习呢，你已经什么都知道了。”
　
　　“我为什么要复习？你疯了吗？你知不知道，我们要通过这些考试才能升入二年级？它们是很重要的，我应该在一个月前就开始温习的，真不知道我当时是怎么了……”
　
　　不幸的是，老师们的想法似乎和赫敏是一样的——他们布置了一大堆家庭作业，复活节假期远不如圣诞节的时候那样充满乐趣。有赫敏在旁边背诵龙血的十二种用途，或者练习魔杖的动作，你就很难轻轻松松地休息。哈利和罗恩只好用大部分空余时间陪她一起待在图书馆里，唉声叹气，哈欠连天，拼命完成繁重的功课。
　
　　“我永远也记不住这个。”一天下午，罗恩终于无法忍受了，他把羽毛笔一扔，眼巴巴地看着图书馆的窗外。几个月来，他们第一次碰到这样的好天气。天空清澈明净，蓝得像勿忘我花的颜色，空气里有一种夏天即将来临的气息。
　
　　哈利只顾埋头在《千种神奇药草和蕈类》里查找“白鲜”，突然他听见罗恩说：“海格！你到图书馆来做什么？”
　
　　海格踢踢踏踏地走了过来，把什么东西藏在了身后。他穿着鼹鼠皮大衣，显得很不合时宜。
　
　　“随便看看，”海格说，声音躲躲闪闪，一下子就引起了他们的兴趣。“你们在这里干吗？”他突然显得疑心起来。“还在查找尼可勒梅，是吗？”
　
　　“哦，我们几百年前就弄清他是何许人了，”罗恩得意洋洋地说，“我们还知道那条狗在看守什么，是魔法石……”
　
　　“嘘——！”海格飞快地四下张望，看有没有人听见，“不要大声嚷嚷，你们到底想干什么？”
　
　　“说实话，我们有几件事情想问问你，”哈利说，“是关于守护魔法石的机关，除了路威……”
　
　　“嘘——”海格又说，“听着——过会儿来找我，记住，我可没答应要告诉你们什么，可是别在这里瞎扯呀，有些事情学生是不应该知道的。他们会以为是我告诉你们的——”
　
　　“那么，待会儿见。”哈利说。
　
　　海格踢踢踏踏地走了。
　
　　“他把什么东西藏在背后？”赫敏若有所思地说，“你认为会与魔法石有关吗？”
　
　　“我去看看他刚才在我什么书。”罗恩说，他读书早就读得不耐烦了。
　
　　一分钟后，他回来了，怀里抱着一大堆书，把它们重重地扔到桌上。
　
　　“龙！”他低声说，“海格在查找关于龙的资料！看看这些：《大不列颠和爱尔兰的龙的种类》、《从孵蛋到涅槃》、《养龙指南》。”
　
　　“海格一直想要一条龙，我第一次见到他时，他就对我这么说过。”哈利说道。
　
　　“但这是犯法的，”罗恩说，“一七〇九年的巫师大会上，正式通过了禁止养龙的法案，这是每个人都知道的。如果我们在后花园里养龙，就很难不让麻瓜注意到我们——而且，你很难把它们驯服，这是很危险的。你真应该看看查理身上那些被烧伤的地方，都是罗马尼亚的野龙给他留下的。”
　
　　“可是不列颠就没有野龙吗？”哈利说。
　
　　“当然有，”罗恩说道，“有普通威尔士绿龙和赫布里丁黑龙。我可以告诉你，魔法部有一项工作就是隐瞒这些野龙的存在。我们的巫师不得不经常给那些看到野龙的麻瓜们念咒，使他们把这件事忘得一干二净。”
　
　　“那么海格到底想做什么呢？”赫敏说。
　
　　一小时后，他们敲响了狩猎场看守的小屋门。他们吃惊地发现，所有的窗帘都被拉得严严实实。海格先是喊了一句“谁呀？”才让他们进屋，接着又赶紧回身把门关上了。
　
　　小屋里热得令人窒息。尽管是这样一个温暖的晴天，壁炉里还燃着熊熊的旺火。海格给他们沏了茶，还端来了白鼬三明治，他们婉言谢绝了。
　
　　“这么说——你们有话要问我？”
　
　　“是的。”哈利说。没有必要拐弯抹角。“我们不知道你能不能告诉我们，除了路威以外，守护魔法石的还有什么机关？”
　
　　海格朝他们皱起了眉头。
　
　　“我当然不能说。”他说，“第一，我自己也不知道。第二，你们已经知道得太多了，所以我即使知道也不会告诉你们。那块石头在这里是很有道理的。它在古灵阁差点被人偷走——我猜你们把这些也弄得一清二楚了吧？真不明白你们怎么连路威的事都知道。”
　
　　“哦，海格，你大概是不想告诉我们吧，你肯定知道的。这里发生的事情，有哪一件能逃过你的眼睛呢。”赫敏用一种甜甜的、奉承的口气说。
　
　　海格的胡子抖动起来，他们看出他在笑呢。
　
　　“实际上，我们只想知道是谁设计了那些机关。”赫敏继续说道，“我们想知道，除了你以外，邓布利多还相信谁能够帮助他呢。”
　
　　听了最后这句话，海格挺起了胸脯。哈利和罗恩对赫敏露出满意的微笑。
　
　　“好吧，对你们说说也无妨——让我想想——他从我这里借去路威——然后请另外几个老师施了魔法……斯普劳特教授——弗立维教授——麦格教授——”他扳着手指数着，“奇洛教授——当然啦，邓布利多自己也施了魔法。等一下，我还忘记了一个人。哦，对了，是斯内普教授。”
　
　　“斯内普？”
　
　　“是啊——难道你们还在怀疑他，嗯？瞧，斯内普也帮着一块儿保护魔法石了，他不会去偷它的。”
　
　　哈利知道罗恩和赫敏内心的想法跟他一样。既然斯内普也参加了保护魔法石的工作，他一定很容易弄清楚其他老师设下了什么机关。他很可能什么都知道了
——似乎只除了奇洛的魔法和怎样通过路威。
　
　　“只有你一个人知道怎样通过路威，是吗，海格？”哈利急切地问，“你不会告诉任何人的，是吗？即使是老师也不告诉，是吗？”
　
　　“除了我和邓布利多，谁也别想知道。”海格骄傲地说。
　
　　“那就好，那就好。”哈利对其他人小声咕哝了一句。“海格，我们能不能开一扇窗户呢？我热坏了。”
　
　　“不能，哈利，对不起。”海格说。
　
　　哈利注意到他朝壁炉那儿扫了一眼，哈利便也扭头看着炉火。
　
　　“海格——那是什么？”
　
　　其实他已经知道了。在炉火的正中央，在水壶的下面，卧着一只黑糊糊的大蛋。
　
　　“呵，”海格局促不安地捻着胡子说，“那是——哦……”
　
　　“你从哪儿弄来的，海格？”罗恩说着，蹲到火边，更仔细地端详着那只大蛋。“肯定花了你一大笔钱吧！”
　
　　“赢来的。”海格说，“昨晚，我在村子里喝酒，和一个陌生人玩牌来着。说实在的，那人大概正巴不得摆脱它呢。”
　
　　“可是，等它孵出来以后，你打算怎么办呢？”赫敏问。
　
　　“噢，我一直在看书。”海格说着，从他的枕头底下抽出一本大部头的书，“从图书馆借来的——《为消遣和盈利而养龙》——当然啦，已经有点过时了，但内容很全。要把蛋放在火里，因为它们的妈妈对着它们呼气。你们看，这里写着呢，等它孵出来后，每半个小时喂它一桶白兰地酒加鸡血。再看这里——怎样辨别不同的蛋——我得到的是一只挪威脊背龙。很稀罕的呢。”
　
　　他看上去很得意的样子，赫敏却不以为然。“海格，别忘了你住在木头房子里。”她说。
　
　　但是海格根本没有听。他一边拨弄着炉火，一边快乐地哼着小曲儿。
　
　　现在，他们又有新的事情要操心了：如果有人发现海格在他的小屋里非法养龙，会把他怎么样呢？
　
　　“真想知道和平安宁的日子是什么样的。”罗恩叹着气说。
　
　　一个晚上接一个晚上，他们奋力完成老师布置的那一大堆家庭作业。赫敏已经开始为哈利和罗恩制订复习计划了。这简直要把他们逼疯了。
　
　　然后，在一天吃早饭的时候，海德薇又给哈利捎来一张海格的纸条。上面只写着四个字：快出壳了。
　
　　罗恩不想上草药课了，想直奔海格的小屋。赫敏坚决不同意。
　
　　“赫敏，我们一辈子能看见几次小龙出壳啊？”
　
　　“我们要上课，不然我们会惹麻烦的；如果有人发现海格做的事情，他会比我们更倒霉的……”
　
　　“别说了。”哈利小声警告。
　
　　马尔福就在离他们几步远的地方，停下来听他们说话。给他听去了多少？哈利真讨厌马尔福脸上的那副表情。
　
　　在草药课上，罗恩一直在和赫敏辩论。最后，赫敏终于答应在上午课间休息时，和他们俩一起跑到海格的小屋去看看。下课的时候，城堡里刚刚传出铃声，他们三个就扔下小铲子，匆匆跑过场地，朝森林禁地的边缘奔去。海格迎接了他们，他满面红光，非常兴奋。
　
　　“快要出来了。”他把他们让进小屋。
　
　　那只蛋躺在桌上，上面已经有了一条深深的裂缝。有什么东西在里面不停地动着，传出一种很好玩的咔嗒咔嗒的声音。他们都把椅子挪得更靠近桌子，屏住呼吸，密切注视着。
　
　　突然，随着一阵刺耳的擦刮声，蛋裂开了。小龙在桌上摇摇摆摆地扑腾着。它其实并不漂亮，哈利觉得它的样子就像一把皱巴巴的黑伞。它多刺的翅膀与它瘦瘦的乌黑身体比起来，显得特别的大。它还有一只长长的大鼻子，鼻孔是白色的，脑袋上长着角疙瘩，橘红色的眼睛向外突起。
　
　　它打了个喷嚏，鼻子里喷出几点火星。
　
　　“它很漂亮，是不是？”海格喃喃地说着，他伸出一只手，摸了摸小龙的脑袋。小龙一口咬住他的手指，露出尖尖的长牙。“天哪，你们看，它认识它的妈妈！”海格说。
　
　　“海格，”赫敏说，“挪威脊背龙长得到底有多快？”海格正要回答，突然脸色刷地变自了——他一跃而起，奔向窗口。“怎么回事？”
　
　　“有人刚才透过窗帘缝儿偷看——是个男孩——正往学校里跑呢。”
　
　　哈利一下子蹿到门边，向外望去。即使隔着一段距离，他也绝不会认错。
　
　　马尔福看见了小龙。
　
　　在接下来的一个星期里，马尔福脸上隐藏的不怀好意的笑容使得哈利、罗恩和赫敏非常不安。他们大部分业余时间都待在海格昏暗的小屋里，对他摆事实讲道理。
　
　　“你就让它走吧，”哈利劝道，“把它放掉。”
　
　　“我不能，”海格说，“它太小了，会死掉的。”
　
　　他们打量着小龙。短短一个星期，它的长度已经是原来的三倍。一团团的烟从它鼻孔里喷出来。海格把看守狩猎场的工作撇在了一边，因为小龙弄得他手忙脚乱。地上扔满了空的白兰地酒瓶和鸡毛。
　
　　“我决定叫它诺伯，”海格用泪水模糊的眼睛看着小龙，说，“它现在真的认识我了，你们看着。诺伯！诺伯！妈妈在哪儿？”
　
　　“海格，”哈利提高了嗓门，“再过两个星期，诺伯就会变得跟你的房子一样长。马尔福随时都可能去找邓布利多。”
　
　　海格咬着嘴唇。“我——我知道我不能永远养着它，可我不能就这样把它扔掉，不能啊。”
　
　　哈利突然转向罗恩。“查理。”他说。
　
　　“你也犯糊涂了，”罗恩说，“我是罗恩，记得吗？”
　
　　“不——查理——你的哥哥查理。在罗马尼亚，研究龙的查理。我们不妨把诺伯送给他。查理可以照料它，然后把它放回野生环境里。”
　
　　“太棒了！”罗恩说，“怎么样，海格？”
　
　　最后，海格总算同意他们先派一只猫头鹰去问问查理。接下来的一个星期简直度日如年。
　
　　星期三晚上，在别人都已上床睡觉之后，赫敏和哈利仍坐在公共休息室里。墙上的钟刚敲过十二点，肖像洞突然被打开了。罗恩脱下哈利的隐形衣，仿佛从天而降一般。他刚才到海格的小屋去帮他喂诺伯，诺伯现在开始吃用木板箱装的死老鼠了。
　
　　“它咬了我！”罗恩说，给他们看他的手，上面包着沾满血迹的手绢。“我一星期都没法拿笔了。告诉你们吧，龙是我见过的最可怕的动物，可是看海格对待它的样子，你还以为它是一只毛茸茸的小兔乖乖呢。它咬了我以后，海格还不许我吓唬它。我走的时候，还听见他在给它唱摇篮曲呢。”
　
　　漆黑的窗户上传来一阵拍打声。
　
　　“是海德薇！”哈利说，赶紧过去把它放了进来。“它肯定带来了查理的回信！”
　
　　三个人脑袋凑在一起，看那张纸条。
　
　　亲爱的罗恩：你好吗？谢谢你给我写信——我很高兴收养那只挪威脊背龙，但是要把它弄到这儿来不太容易。我认为最好的办法是先把它送到我的几个朋友那里，他们下个星期要来看我。麻烦就在于，千万不能让别人看见他们非法携带一条龙。你能否在星期六的午夜，把脊背龙带到最高的塔楼上？他们可以在那里与你会面，趁着天黑把龙带走。请尽快给我回音。爱你。查理
　
　　三个人面面相觑。
　
　　“我们有隐形衣呢，”哈利说，“应该不会太难——我认为隐形衣足够遮住我们两个人和诺伯。”
　
　　罗恩和赫敏立刻就同意了，这说明下个星期的日子是多么难熬。怎么都行，只要能摆脱诺伯——还有马尔福。
　
　　事情出了麻烦。第二天早晨，罗恩被咬的那只手肿成了原来的两倍。他不知道去找庞弗雷夫人是不是妥当——她会不会看出来这是被龙咬伤的？然而到了下午，他就没有别的选择了。伤口变成了一种难看的绿颜色。看来诺伯的牙齿是有毒的。
　
　　一天的课上完之后，哈利和赫敏飞快地赶到医院，发现罗恩躺在床上，情况非常糟糕。
　
　　“不光是我的手，”他低声说，“虽然它疼得像要断了一样。更糟糕的是，马尔福对庞弗雷夫人说，他要向我借一本书，这样他就进来了，尽情地把我嘲笑了一通。他不停地威胁说，他要告诉庞弗雷夫人是什么东西咬了我——我对庞弗雷夫人说是狗咬的，但我认为她并不相信——我不应该在魁地奇比赛时跟马尔福打架，他现在是报复我呢。”
　
　　哈利和赫敏竭力使罗恩平静下来。
　
　　“到了星期六午夜，就一切都结束了。”赫敏说，但这丝毫没有使罗恩得到安慰。恰恰相反，他腾地从床上坐了起来，急出了一身冷汗。
　
　　“星期六午夜！”他声音嘶哑地说道，“哦，糟糕——哦，糟糕——我刚想起来——查理的信就夹在马尔福借走的那本书里面，他一定知道我们要弄走诺伯了。”
　
　　哈利和赫敏没有来得及回答，庞弗雷夫人正好在这个时候走了进来，叫他们离开，她说罗恩需要睡觉了。
　
　　“已经来不及改变计划了，”哈利对赫敏说，“我们没有时间再派一只猫头鹰去找查理，而且这大概是我们摆脱诺伯的惟一机会了。我们不得不冒一次险。我们有隐形衣呢，这是马尔福不知道的。”
　
　　他们去通知海格时，发现大猎狗牙牙坐在门外，尾巴上包着绷带。海格打开窗户跟他们说话。
　
　　“我不能让你们进来，”他喘着气说，“诺伯现在很难对付——我拿它没有办法。”
　
　　他们把查理来信的事对他说了，他的眼里噙满泪水，不过这也可能是因为诺伯刚刚咬了他的腿。
　
　　“呵呵！没关系，它只咬了我的靴子——它是在玩耍呢——说到底，它还是个小毛娃啊。”
　
　　小毛娃用尾巴梆梆地敲着墙，震得窗户咔咔直响。哈利和赫敏走回城堡，心里盼望着星期六早点到来。
　
　　海格就要跟诺伯告别了，哈利和赫敏如果不是忧心忡忡地想着即将采取的行动，一定会为海格感到难过的。
　
　　那是一个漆黑的、阴云密布的夜晚，他们到达海格的小屋时已经有点晚了，因为皮皮鬼在门厅里对着墙壁打网球，他们只好一直等到他离开。
　
　　海格已经把诺伯装进一只大板条箱，准备就绪了。
　
　　“给它准备了许多老鼠，还有一些白兰地酒，够它一路上吃的了。”海格用沉闷的声音说，“我还把它的玩具熊也放了进去，免得它觉得孤单。”
　
　　板条箱里传出了撕扯的声音，哈利觉得似乎玩具熊的脑袋被扯掉了。
　
　　“再见，诺伯！”海格抽抽搭搭地说，“妈妈不会忘记你的！”
　
　　哈利和赫敏用隐形衣罩住板条箱，随即自己也钻到了袍子下面。
　
　　怎么把板条箱搬到塔楼上去呢，他们心里没底。随着午夜一分一秒地临近，他们抬着诺伯走上门厅的大理石台阶，走过漆黑一片的走廊。上了一层楼，又上一层楼——尽管哈利抄了近路，也一点儿不省劲儿。
　
　　“快到了！”他们到了最高塔楼下面一层的走廊上，哈利喘着气说。
　
　　前面突然有了动静，吓得他们差点扔掉了手里的箱子。他们忘了自己已经隐形，赶紧退缩到阴影里，看着离他们十来步远的地方，两个黑糊糊的人影在互相扭打。一盏灯在闪亮。
　
　　是麦格教授，穿着格子花纹的晨衣，戴着发网，揪着马尔福的耳朵。
　
　　“关禁闭！”她喊道，“斯莱特林扣掉二十分！半夜三更到处乱逛，你怎么敢……”
　
　　“你没有明白，教授，哈利波特要来了——他带着一条龙！”
　
　　“完全胡说八道！你怎么敢编出这样的谎话！走——我倒要看看斯内普教授怎么处置你，马尔福！”
　
　　摆脱了马尔福之后，通向塔楼的那道陡直的旋转楼梯似乎是世界上最轻松的一段路程了。他们一直来到寒冷的夜空下，才脱掉了隐形衣。多好啊，终于又能自如地呼吸了。赫敏还跳起了一种快步舞。
　
　　“马尔福要被关禁闭了！我真想唱歌！”
　
　　“别唱。”哈利提醒她。
　
　　他们一边等待，一边咯咯地嘲笑马尔福，诺伯在箱子里剧烈地动个不停。大约十分钟后，四把扫帚突然从黑暗中降落了。
　
　　查理的朋友都是性情快活的人。他们给哈利和赫敏看了他们临时拴好的几道绳索，这样他们就能把诺伯悬挂在他们中间了。他们七手八脚地把诺伯安全地系在绳索上，然后哈利和赫敏跟他们握了握手，又对他们说了许多感谢的话。
　
　　终于，诺伯走了……走了……不见了。
　
　　他们悄悄地走下旋转楼梯，总算摆脱了诺伯这个沉重的负担，他们的心情和手一样轻快。龙走了——马尔福将被关禁闭——还有什么能破坏他们的这份喜悦呢？答案就在楼梯下面等着呢。他们一跨进走廊，费尔奇的脸就突然从黑暗里显现出来。
　
　　“糟了，糟了，糟了，”哈利低声说，“我们有麻烦了。”他们把隐形衣忘在塔楼顶上了。

　第十五章　禁林
　
　

　
　　费尔奇把他们领到二楼麦格教授的书房，他们坐在那里，一句话也不说。赫敏浑身发抖。哈利的脑海里飞快地设想出许多为自己辩解的借口和理由，还编了一些谎话想蒙混过关，但发现它们一个比一个站不住脚。他不知道这次他们有什么办法摆脱困境。他们走投无路了。唉，他们怎么就这么糊涂，居然把隐形衣给忘了！无论他们摆出什么理由，麦格教授都不会原谅他们深更半夜不睡觉，在学校里鬼鬼祟祟地游荡，而且还爬到了最高的天文塔上，那里除了平常上课是不能上去的。再加上诺伯和隐形衣，他们早就该收拾行李回家了。

　　哈利认为事情糟得不能再糟吗？他错了。当麦格教授回来时，她后面跟着纳威。

　　“哈利！”纳威一看见他们两个，就脱口而出，“我一直在找你们，想给你们提个醒儿，我听见马尔福说他要来抓你，他说你有一条龙——”

　　哈利拼命摆手，不让纳威再说下去，可是被麦格教授看见了。她高高耸立在他们三个人面前，似乎比诺伯更有可能喷出火来。

　　“我真不敢相信是你们几个人。费尔奇说你们到天文塔上去了。别忘了现在是凌晨一点钟。自己解释一下吧。”

　　这是赫敏第一次回答不出老师的提问。她低头盯着自己的拖鞋，像雕像一样一动不动。

　　“我认为我完全明白这是怎么回事，”麦格教授说，“要弄清楚这件事，并不需要脑筋有多么灵光。你们凭空编出一套谎话告诉德拉科马尔福，说有一条龙什么的，想把他从床上骗出来，害他倒霉。我已经抓住他了。没想到隆巴顿也听到了这套谎话并且信以为真，我猜你们觉得这很有趣吧？”

　　哈利捕捉到纳威的目光，想用无声的语言告诉他不是这么回事，因为纳威显得既吃惊又委屈。可怜的、莽莽撞撞的纳威——哈利知道，纳威在黑夜里跑出来寻找他们，要给他们提个醒，这需要多么大的勇气啊。

　　“我感到很气愤，”麦格教授说，“一晚上有四个学生不睡觉！这种事情我以前还从未听说过！你，格兰杰小姐，我原以为你头脑更清醒一些。至于你，波特先生，我原以为你是十分看重格兰芬多荣誉的。你们三个都要被关禁闭——是的，还有你，隆巴顿先生，不管是怎么回事，你都无权半夜三更在学校里乱逛，这是非常危险的——格兰芬多被扣掉五十分。”

　　“五十？”哈利觉得喘不过气来——他们的领先地位保不住了，这名次还是他在上次魁地奇比赛中好不容易赢来的。

　　“每人五十分。”麦格教授说，长长的尖鼻子喷着粗气。

　　“教授——求求您——”’
　
　　“您不能——”
　
　　“不用你来告诉我说我能做什么，不能做什么，波特。好了，你们都上床去吧。我从未像现在这样为格兰芬多的学生感到脸红。”

　　一下子丢掉了一百五十分。这样一来，格兰芬多就落到最后一名了。仅仅一个晚上，他们就摧毁了格兰芬多赢得学院杯的所有希望。哈利觉得心里一下子空落落的。这样大的损失，他们还有没有可能弥补呢？哈利整夜无法入睡。他可以听见纳威伏在枕头上哭泣，哭了很长时间。哈利不知道说什么话来安慰他。他知道纳威像他自己一样，都很害怕黎明的到来。当格兰芬多的其他学生知道了他们做的好事，会怎么样呢？
　
　　第二天，格兰芬多的学生们经过记录学院杯比分的巨大沙漏时，还以为出了什么差错。他们怎么可能突然比昨天少了一百五十分呢？随后，事情就慢慢传开了：哈利·波特，大名鼎鼎的哈利·波特，两次魁地奇比赛的英雄，竟然害得他们丢掉了这么多分数，他，还有另外两个愚蠢的一年级学生。

　　哈利原是学校里最受欢迎、最受敬佩的人物之一，现在一下子变成了众矢之的。就连拉文克劳和赫奇帕奇的学生们也没有好脸色给他，因为大家本来一直希望看到斯莱特林输掉学院杯。哈利不管走到哪里，人们都对他指指点点，而且说一些侮辱他的话时也并不把声音放低。另一方面，每当他从斯莱特林们身边走过时，他们总是又鼓掌，又吹口哨，欢呼喝彩。“谢谢你，波特，你帮了我们一个大忙！”

　　只有罗恩和他站在一边。

　　“过几个星期，他们就会把这些忘得一干二净的。弗雷德和乔治自从入学以来，就一直在丢分，人们照样很喜欢他们。”

　　“但他们从来没有一下子丢掉一百五十分，是吗？”哈利忧伤地说。

　　“嗯——那倒没有。”罗恩承认。

　　损失已经造成，后悔也来不及了，哈利对自己发誓，从今往后，他再也不去多管闲事了。他再也不偷偷摸摸地乱转，暗中监视什么了。他为自己感到非常羞愧，就去找到伍德，表示要退出魁地奇队。

　　“退出？”伍德大声斥责道，“那有什么用？如果我们赢不了魁地奇比赛，又怎么可能把分数挣回来呢？”

　　可是，对哈利来说，就连魁地奇也失去了原有的乐趣。训练时，其他队员都不跟他说话，如果不得不提到他，他们就管他叫“找球手”。

　　赫敏和纳威也很痛苦。他们的日子不像哈利那样难熬，因为他们没有他那么出名，但是也没有人愿意跟他们说话。赫敏在班上不再抛头露面，总是低着头，默默地学习着。

　　哈利简直很高兴快要考试了。他必须埋头复习，这就使他暂时忘却了烦恼。他、罗恩和赫敏三个人总是单独在一起，每天复习到深夜，努力记住复杂的魔药配方，记住那些魔法和咒语，记住重大魔术发明和妖精叛乱的日期……然而，就在考试前的一个星期，哈利不再多管闲事的决心受到了一次意外的考验。
　
　　那天下午，他独自一个人从图书馆出来，听见有人在前面的教室里抽抽搭搭地哭泣。他走近几步，听出是奇洛的声音。

　　“不行——不行——不能再干了，求求你——”

　　听上去似乎有人在威胁他。哈利再走近几步。

　　“好吧——好吧——”他听见奇洛在抽泣。

　　接着，奇洛匆匆走出教室，一边整理着他的围巾。他脸色苍白，好像快要哭出声来似的，大步地走出了哈利的视线。哈利觉得奇洛根本就没有注意到自己。他一直等到奇洛的脚步声昕不见了，才朝教室里望去。里面空无一人，但另一边的那扇门开了一道缝。哈利正要走过去，突然想起他对自己的保证，再也不能多管闲事了。

　　不过，他愿意拿十二块魔法石打赌：刚才离开教室的人是斯内普，从脚步声听，斯内普的步子陡然变得轻快了——看来奇洛终于投降了。

　　哈利返回图书馆，赫敏正在那里为罗恩测验天文学。哈利把他刚才听到的告诉了他们。
　
　　“这么说，斯内普终于得手了！”罗恩说，“如果奇洛告诉了他怎样解除他的反黑魔法咒语——”
　
　　“别忘了还有路威呢。”赫敏说。

　　“说不定斯内普已经知道了怎样通过路威，根本用不着去问海格。”罗恩说道，抬头看着他们周围的无数本书，“我敢说这里肯定藏着一本书，可以告诉你怎样通过一条三个脑袋的大狗。那么我们怎么办呢，哈利？”

　　渴望冒险的光芒又在罗恩的眼睛里闪烁了，可是赫敏赶在哈利前面答话了。

　　“去找邓布利多。我们早就应该这么做了。如果我们再要单独行动，肯定会被学校开除的。”

　　“可是我们没有证据！”哈利说，“奇洛怕得要命，肯定不会出来为我们作证。斯内普只要说他不知道万圣节前夕那个巨怪是怎么进来的，他根本没在四楼附近——你们说他们会相信谁，是斯内普还是我们？我们恨斯内普，这已经不是什么秘密，邓布利多会认为我们编出这套鬼话，是想害得斯内普被开除。费尔奇如果生命受到威胁，也不会帮助我们的。他和斯内普的关系太密切了，而且他还会认为被开除的学生越多越好。还有，别忘了，我们是不应该知道魔法石和路威的。那要解释起来就太麻烦了。”
　
　　赫敏似乎被他说服了，可是罗恩没有。

　　“如果我们到处侦察一下——”

　　“不行，”哈利干脆地说，“我们已经侦察得够多的了。”

　　他把一张木星天文图拉到面前，开始复习木星卫星的名字。
　
　　第二天早晨，哈利、赫敏和纳威在早饭桌上都收到了纸条。三张纸条一模一样：

　　你的禁闭从今晚十一点开始。在门厅找费尔奇先生。麦格教授

　　哈利自从丢了分数以后，就一直遭到人们的白眼和唾弃，他几乎忘记了他们还要被关禁闭的事。他本来以为赫敏会抱怨一番，说又要耽误一晚上的复习时间了，但她什么也没说。她和哈利一样，觉得他们理应受到这样的惩罚。

　　那天夜里十一点，他们在公共休息室里与罗恩告别，然后和纳威一起下楼来到门厅。费尔奇已经等在那里了——还有马尔福。哈利同样忘记了马尔福也是要关禁闭的。

　　“跟我来。”费尔奇说着，点亮了一盏灯，领他们出去，“我认为，以后你们再想要违反校规，就要三思而行了，是不是，嗯？”他斜眼看着他们，继续说道：“哦，是啊……如果你们问我的话，我得说干活和吃苦是最好的老师……真遗憾他们废除了过去那种老式的惩罚方式……吊住你们的手腕，把你们悬挂在天花板上，一吊就是好几天。我办公室里还留着那些链条呢，经常给它们上上油，说不定哪一天就派上了用场……好了，走吧，可别想着逃跑。如果逃跑，你们更没有好果子吃。”

　　他们大步穿过漆黑的场地。纳威不停地抽着鼻子。哈利不知道他们将会受到什么惩罚。肯定是非常可怕的，不然费尔奇的口气不会这么欢快。

　　月光很皎洁，但不断有云飘过来遮住月亮，使他们陷入一片黑暗。哈利可以看见海格小屋里那些映着灯光的窗户。接着，他们听见远处传来一声喊叫。

　　“是你吗，费尔奇？快点，我要出发了。”
　
　　哈利的心欢腾起来，如果他们要和海格一起劳动，那就不算太糟。他一定在脸上表现出了这种宽慰的心情，只听费尔奇说：“你大概以为你会和那个蠢货一起玩个痛快吧？再好好想想吧，小子——你是要去禁林！如果你能安然无恙地出来，就算我估计错了。”

　　听了这话，纳威忍不住哼了一声，马尔福猛地停住了脚步。

　　“禁林？”他跟着说了一句，声音远不像平时那样冷静了，“我们不能在半夜里进去——那里面什么都有——我听说有狼人。”

　　纳威紧紧抓住哈利的衣袖，发出一声哽咽。

　　“那只能怪你自己，是不是？”费尔奇说，声音喜滋滋的，“你在惹麻烦之前，就应该想到这些狼人的，是不是？”

　　海格从黑暗中大步向他们走来，牙牙跟在后面。海格带着他巨大的石弓，肩上挂着装得满满的箭筒。

　　“时间差不多了，”他说，“我已经等了半小时。怎么样，哈利，赫敏？”
　
　　“不应该对他们这么客气，海格，”费尔奇冷冰冰地说，“毕竟，他们到这里来是接受惩罚的。”

　　“所以你迟到了，是吗？”海格冲费尔奇皱着眉头，说道，“一直在教训他们，嗯？这里可不是你教训人的地方。你的任务完成了，从现在起由我负责。”

　　“我天亮的时候回来，”费尔奇说道，“收拾他们的残骸。”他恶狠狠地说罢，然后转身朝城堡走去，那盏灯摇摇摆摆地消失在黑暗中。
　
　　这时马尔福转向了海格。“我不进那个禁林。”他说。哈利高兴地听出他声音里透着一丝惊恐。
　
　　“如果你还想待在霍格沃茨，你就非去不可。”海格毫不留情地说，“你做了错事，现在必须付出代价。”
　
　　“进这里干事是佣人的差使，不是学生干的。我还以为我们最多写写检查什么的。如果我父亲知道我在干这个，他会——”

　　“——告诉你霍格沃茨就是这样的。”海格粗暴地说，“写写检查！这对你有什么好处？你得做点有用的事，不然就得滚蛋。如果你认为你父亲情愿让你被开除，你就尽管回城堡收拾行李去吧。走吧！”

　　马尔福没有动弹。他愤怒地看着海格，但随即又垂下了目光。
　
　　“好吧，”海格说，“现在仔细听着，我们今天晚上要做的事情非常危险，我不愿意让任何一个人遇到危险。先跟我到这边来。”
　
　　他领着他们来到禁林边缘，把灯高高举起，指着一条逐渐隐入黑色密林深处的羊肠小路。他们往禁林里望去，一阵微风吹拂着他们的头发。

　　“你们往那边瞧，”海格说，“看见地上那个闪光的东西吗？银白色的？那就是独角兽的血。禁林里的一只独角兽被什么东西打伤了，伤得很重。这已经是一个星期里的第二次了。上星期三我就发现死了一只。我们要争取找到那个可怜的独角兽，使它摆脱痛苦。”

　　“如果伤害独角兽的那个东西先发现了我们，怎么办呢？”马尔福问，他的声音里含着无法抑制的恐惧。

　　“只要你和我或者牙牙在一起，禁林里的任何生物都不会伤害你。”海格说道，“不要离开小路。好了，现在我们要兵分两路，分头顺着血迹寻找。到处都是血迹，显然，它至少从昨天晚上起，就一直跌跌撞撞地到处徘徊。”

　　“我要牙牙，”马尔福看着牙牙长长的牙齿，忙不迭地说。

　　“好吧，不过我提醒你，它可是个胆小鬼。”海格说，“那么，我、哈利和赫敏走一条路，马尔福、纳威和牙牙走另一条路。如果谁找到了独角兽，就发射绿色火花，明白吗？把你们的魔杖拿出来，练习一下——对了——如果有谁遇到了麻烦，就发射红色火花，我们都会过来找你——行了，大家多加小心——我们走吧。”

　　禁林里黑黢黢的，一片寂静。他们往里走了一段，就到了岔路口，哈利、赫敏和海格走左边的路，马尔福、纳威和牙牙走右边的路。

　　他们默默地走着，眼睛盯着地上。时不时地，一道月光从上面的树枝间洒下来，照亮了落叶上一块银蓝色的血迹。

　　哈利看出海格显得很焦虑。
　
　　“会是狼人杀死了独角兽吗？”哈利问。

　　“不会有这么快，”海格说，“抓住一只独角兽是很不容易的，它们这种动物具有很强的魔法。我以前从没听说过独角兽受到伤害。”

　　他们走过一个布满苔藓的树桩。哈利可以听见潺潺的流水声，显然，附近什么地方有一道溪流。在蜿蜒曲折的小路上，仍然散落着斑斑点点的独角兽血迹。

　　“你没事吧，赫敏？”海格低声问。“不要担心，既然它伤得这样重，就不可能走得很远，我们很快就能——不好，快躲到那棵树后面去！”

　　海格一把抓住哈利和赫敏，提着他们离开小路，藏到一棵高耸的栎树后面。他抽出一枚箭，装在石弓上，举起来准备射击。三个人侧耳细听。什么东西在近旁的落叶上嗖嗖地滑行，那声音就像是斗篷在地面上拖曳。海格眯着眼注视着漆黑的小路，几秒钟后，声音渐渐消失了。
　
　　“我知道了，”他喃喃地说，“有一样东西，它原本是不属于这里的。”
　
　　“狼人？”哈利问道。
　
　　“不是狼人，也不是独角兽。”海格肯定地说，“好了，跟我来吧，现在可得小心了。”
　
　　他们走得比刚才更慢了，竖着耳朵，捕捉最细微的声音。突然，在前面的空地上，他们清清楚楚地看见一个什么东西在动。
　
　　“谁在那儿？”海格喊道，“快出来——我带着武器呢！”

　　那东西应声走进了空地——它到底是人，还是马？腰部以上是人，红色的头发和胡子，腰部以下却是棕红色的发亮的马身，后面还拖着一条长长的红尾巴。哈利和赫敏吃惊地张大嘴巴。

　　“哦，原来是你，罗南。”海格松了一口气，说，“你好吗？”他走上前，和马人握了握手。
　
　　“晚上好，海格。”罗南说。他的声音低沉而忧伤。“你想用弓箭射我？”

　　“不得不提高警惕，罗南，”海格说，一边拍了拍他的箭筒，“这片森林里有个坏家伙在到处活动。噢，对了，这是哈利·波特和赫敏格兰杰，是上面那所学校里的学生。我来给你们俩介绍一下，这位是罗南，是一个马人。”

　　“我们已经注意到了。”赫敏小声地说。
　
　　“晚上好，”罗南说，“你们是学生？在学校里学到的东西多吗？”
　
　　“嗯——学到一点儿。”赫敏腼腆地说。
　
　　“学到一点儿，好，那就很不错了。”罗南叹了口气，他仰起头，凝视着天空，“今晚的火星很明亮。”
　
　　“是啊，”海格说着，也抬头看了一眼天空，“听我说，罗南，我很高兴我们碰见了你，因为有一只独角兽受伤了——你看见了什么没有？”

　　罗南没有马上回答。他眼睛一眨不眨地向上凝望着，接着又叹了口气，“总是无辜者首先受害。”他说，“几百年以来是这样，现在还是这样。”
　
　　“是啊，”海格说，“可是你有没有看见什么，罗南？有没有看见什么异常的东西？”
　
　　“今晚的火星很明亮。”罗南又重复了一句，海格不耐烦地看着他。“异常明亮。”罗南说。
　
　　“不错，可我的意思是，在靠近咱们家的地方，有没有什么反常的情况。”海格说，“你没有注意到一些奇怪的动静吗？”
　
　　罗南还是迟迟没有回答。最后，他说：“森林里藏着许多秘密。”
　
　　罗南身后的树丛里突然有了动静，海格又举起了石弓，结果那只是第二个马人，黑头发、黑身体，看上去比罗南粗野一些。
　
　　“你好，贝恩，”海格说，“近来好吗？”
　
　　“晚上好，海格，我希望你一切都好。”

　　“还可以吧。你瞧，我刚才正问罗南呢，你最近在这儿有没有看见什么古怪的东西？有一只独角兽受了伤——你知道一些情况吗？”
　
　　贝恩走过来站在罗南身边，抬头望着天空。“今晚的火星很明亮。”他就说了这么一句。
　
　　“这句话我们已经听过了。”海格暴躁地说，“好吧，如果你们谁看见了什么，就赶紧来告诉我，好吗？那么我们走吧。”
　
　　哈利和赫敏跟在他后面走出空地，一边不住地扭头望望罗南和贝恩，直到树木挡住了视线。
　
　　“唉，从马人那里总是得不到直截了当的回答。”海格恼火地说，“总是仰头看着星星，真讨厌。他们除了月亮周围的东西，对任何事情都不感兴趣。”
　
　　“这里的马人多吗？”赫敏问。

　　“哦，有那么几个……他们大部分都跟自己的同类待在一起，不过他们的心眼不错，每当我想跟他们说说话的时候，他们总能及时出现。这些马人深奥莫测
……他们知道许多事情……却总是守口如瓶。”

　　“你说，我们先前听见的动静会不会也是一个马人？”哈利问。
　
　　“你觉得那像是马蹄声吗？如果你问我的话，我认为不是，那就是杀死独角兽的家伙——那种声音我以前从来没有听见过。”

　　他们继续在茂密、漆黑的树林间穿行。哈利总是紧张地扭头张望。他有一种很不舒服的感觉，好像有人在监视他们。他很高兴有海格和他的石弓陪着他们。可是，刚拐过小路上的一个弯道，赫敏突然一把抓住海格的胳膊。

　　“海格！快看！红色火花，其他人有麻烦了！”
　
　　“你们俩在这儿等着！”海格喊道，“待在小路上别动。我去去就来。”
　
　　他们听见他噼里啪啦地穿过低矮的灌木丛。哈利和赫敏站在那里对望着，心里非常害怕。渐渐地，海格走远了，他们只能听见周围树叶在风中沙沙作响的声音。
　
　　“你说，他们不会受伤吧，嗯？”赫敏小声问道。
　
　　“马尔福受伤我倒不在乎，可是如果纳威出了什么意外……都是我们拖累了他，害他到这里来受罚的啊。”
　
　　时间一分一秒过得很慢。他们的耳朵似乎比平常敏锐得多。哈利简直能捕捉到风的每一声叹息，以及每根树枝折断的声音。出了什么事？其他人在哪里？最后，随着一阵嘎吱嘎吱的巨大响动，他们知道是海格回来了，马尔福、纳威和牙牙也跟他在一起。海格怒气冲冲的。情况似乎是这样的：马尔福搞了个恶作剧。他悄悄藏到纳威后面，然后一把抱住了他。纳威吓坏了，就发射了红色火花。
　
　　“你们俩闹出了这么大的动静，现在，我们要抓住那东西就全凭运气了。好吧。我们把队伍换一换——纳威，你跟我和赫敏在一起。哈利，你和牙牙，还有这个白痴一组。对不起，”海格又小声地对哈利说，“不过他要吓唬你可没那么容易，我们还是赶紧把事情办完吧。”

　　于是，哈利和马尔福、牙牙一起朝禁林中心走去。他们走了将近半个小时，越来越深入森林内部，后来树木变得极为茂密，小路几乎走不通了。哈利觉得地上的血迹也越来越密了。一棵树根上溅了许多血，似乎那个可怜的动物曾在附近痛苦地扭动挣扎过。哈利透过一棵古老栎树纠结缠绕的树枝，可以看见前面有一片空地。

　　“看——”他低声说，举起胳膊拦住马尔福。

　　一个洁白的东西在地上闪闪发光。他们一点点地向它靠近。

　　没错，那正是独角兽，它已经死了。哈利从未见过这样美丽、这样凄惨的情景。它修长的腿保持着它摔倒时的姿势，很不自然地伸直着；它的鬃毛铺在漆黑的落叶上，白得像珍珠一样。

　　哈利刚朝它跨近一步，突然一阵簌簌滑动的声音使他停住了脚步，呆呆地站在原地。空地边缘的一丛灌木在抖动……接着，从阴影里闪出一个戴着兜帽的身影，它在地上缓缓爬行，像一头渐渐逼近的野兽。哈利、马尔福和牙牙都呆若木鸡地站在那里。那个穿着斗篷的身影来到独角兽身边，低下头去，对准那尸体一侧的伤口，开始喝它的血。

　　“啊啊啊啊——！”

　　马尔福发出一声可怕的尖叫，撒腿就跑——牙牙也没命地逃走了。那戴着兜帽的身影抬起头，一眼就看见了哈利——独角兽的血滴落在它胸前。它站起身，飞快地向哈利走来——哈利吓得动弹不得。

　　就在这时，一阵剧痛穿透哈利的头部，这是他以前从未有过的感觉，就好像他的伤疤突然着了火一般——他视线模糊、踉踉跄跄地后退。他听见身后有马蹄小跑的声音，什么东西从他头顶上越过，朝那个身影扑去。

　　哈利的头疼得太厉害了，他扑通跪倒在地上。过了一两分钟才缓过劲来。当他抬起头来时，那个带兜帽的身影已经不见了。一个马人站在他的身边，不是罗南，也不是贝恩，这个马人显得更年轻些。他的头发是白金色的，长着一副银鬃马的身体。

　　“你没事吧？”马人把哈利拉起来，问道。
　
　　“没事——谢谢你——刚才那是什么东西？”
　
　　马人没有回答。他的眼睛蓝得惊人，像淡淡的蓝宝石。他仔细地打量哈利，目光停留在哈利前额上那道鲜明而突出的伤疤上。
　
　　“你就是波特家的那个男孩，”他说，“你最好回到海格身边去。森林里这个时候不太安全——特别是对你来说。你会骑马吗？这样可以快一些。”
　
　　“我叫费伦泽。”他又补充了一句，一边弯下前腿，把身体放低，让哈利爬到他的背上。
　
　　突然，从空地的另一边又传来了更多的马蹄声。罗南和贝恩从树丛中冲了出来，腹胁处剧烈地起伏着，汗珠淋漓。
　
　　“费伦泽！”贝恩怒吼道，“你在做什么？你让一个人骑在你背上！你不觉得丢脸吗？难道你是一头普通的骡子？”
　
　　“你们有没有看清这是谁？”费伦泽说，“这是波特家的那个男孩。得让他赶紧离开这片森林，越快越好。”
　
　　“你都跟他说了些什么？”贝恩气冲冲地说，“记住，费伦泽，我们是发过誓的，绝对不能违抗天意。难道我们没有看出行星的运行所显示的预兆吗？”
　
　　罗南不安地用蹄子刨着地上的土。“我相信费伦泽认为他这么做完全是出于好意。”罗南用他那忧伤的声音说道。
　
　　“出于好意！那件事和我们有什么关系？马人关心的是星象的预言！我们没必要像驴子一样，跟着在我们森林里迷路的人类后面乱跑！”
　
　　费伦泽气得突然用后腿直立起来，哈利只好紧紧抓住他的肩膀，才没有被摔下来。

　　“你们没有看见那只独角兽吗？”费伦泽咆哮着对贝恩说，“你们不明白它为什么被杀死了吗？还是行星没有向你们透露这个秘密？我一定要抵抗那个潜伏在我们森林里的家伙，贝恩。是的，如果必要的话，我要和人类站在一边。”

　　费伦泽说完，轻盈地转过身去；哈利紧紧地贴在他身上，他们向树林深处冲去，把罗南和贝恩撇在后面。

　　哈利完全不明白是怎么回事。

　　“贝恩为什么这么生气？”他问，“还有，刚才那是什么东西，你把我从它手里救了出来？”

　　费伦泽放慢脚步，提醒哈利把头低下，躲开那些低垂的树枝，但他对哈利的问题却避而不答。他们默默地在树林间穿行，许久没有说话，哈利还以为费伦泽不愿意再跟他说话了呢。然而，就在他们穿过一片特别茂密的树丛时，费伦泽突然停下了脚步。

　　“哈利·波特，你知道独角兽的血可以做什么用吗？”

　　“不知道，”哈利听到这个古怪的问题，不由吃了一惊，说道，“我们在魔药课上只用了它的角和尾巴毛。”

　　“这是因为杀死一只独角兽是一件极其残暴的事。”费伦泽说，“只有自己一无所有，又想得到一切的人，才会犯下这样的滔天大罪。独角兽的血可以延续你的生命，即使你已经奄奄一息，但是你必须为此付出惨重的代价。你为了挽救自己的生命，屠杀了一个纯洁的、柔弱无助的生命，所以从它的血碰到你嘴唇的那一刻起，你拥有的将是一条半死不活的生命，一条被诅咒的生命。”

　　哈利望着费伦泽的后脑勺，它在月光下闪着银色的斑点。“可是，那个亡命徒是谁呢？”哈利大声说出自己的疑问，“如果一辈子都要受到诅咒，那还不如死掉，是吗？”

　　“不错，”费伦泽表示赞同，“除非你只是用它拖延你的生命，好让你能够喝到另一种东西——一种使你完全恢复精力和法术的东西——一种使你长生不老的东西。波特先生，你知道此刻是什么东西藏在学校里吗？”

　　“魔法石！当然啦——长生不老药！但我不明白是谁——”
　
　　“你难道想不到吗，有谁默默地等了这么多年，渴望东山再起？有谁紧紧抓住生命不放，等候时机？”
　
　　一时间，好像一只铁爪突然攫住了哈利的心脏。在风吹树叶的沙沙声中，他仿佛又一次听见海格在他们初次见面的那天晚上说的话：“有人说他死了。我认为纯粹是胡说八道。他身上恐怕已经没有多少人性了，所以也就不可能去死。”

　　“难道你是说，”哈利用低沉而沙哑的声音说，“是伏地——”

　　“哈利！哈利，你没事吧？”

　　赫敏沿着小路向他们跑来，海格气喘吁吁地跟在后面。

　　“我很好，”哈利说，他简直不知道自己在说什么，“独角兽死了，海格，就在那边的空地上。”

　　“我就把你留在这儿吧，”费伦泽在海格赶去查看独角兽的尸体时低声说，“你现在没有危险了。”

　　哈利从他背上滑下来。

　　“祝你好运，哈利·波特。”费伦泽说道，“以前，命运星辰就曾被人误解过，即使马人也免不了失误，我希望这次也是这样。”

　　他转过身，撇下浑身发抖的哈利，慢慢跑回了森林深处。
　
　　罗恩在黑暗的公共休息室里等他们回来，不知不觉睡着了。当哈利粗暴地摇醒他时，他嘴里嚷嚷着一些魁地奇比赛犯规之类的话。不过，几秒钟后，他就完全清醒过来，睁大眼睛，专心地听哈利对他和赫敏讲述森林里发生的事情了。

　　哈利激动得坐不下来。他在炉火前踱来踱去，身上仍然在发抖。

　　“斯内普要替伏地魔弄到魔法石……伏地魔在森林里等着……我们还以为斯内普只是想靠魔法石发财……”

　　“别再说那个名字了！”罗恩惊慌地小声说，仿佛担心伏地魔会听见似的。

　　哈利不听他的。“费伦泽救了我，他不应该这样做……贝恩非常恼火……说什么这样会扰乱命运星辰预示的事情……星象一定显示了伏地魔要卷土重来……贝恩认为费伦泽应该让伏地魔杀死我……我猜想那也在星象中显示着呢。”

　　“你能不能别再说那个名字！”罗恩压低了声音说。

　　“所以我现在只能等着斯内普去偷魔法石，”哈利极度兴奋地继续往下说，“然后伏地魔就上这儿来，把我干掉……好，我想这下子贝恩该高兴了。”

　　赫敏显得非常害怕，但她仍然想出话来安慰哈利。

　　“哈利，大家都说，神秘人一直害怕的只有邓布利多。有邓布利多在这里，神秘人不会伤你一根毫毛的。而且，谁说马人的话就一定正确？我觉得那一套听上去像是算命，麦格教授说，那是一类很不精确的魔法。”

　　天色渐渐亮了，他们才停止了谈话，嗓子又干又痛，精疲力竭地上床睡觉。然而，这晚上还有一个意外在等着他呢。哈利拉开床单时，发现他的隐形衣叠得整整齐齐的，放在床单下面。隐形衣上还别了一张纸条，写着：以防万一。

　

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举报只看该作者 11楼发表于: 2013-10-23 0

　　CHAPTER SIXTEEN
　　THROUGH THE TRAPDOOR
　　In years to come, Harry would never quite remember how he had managed to get through his exams when he half expected Voldemort to come bursting through the door at any moment. Yet the days crept by, and there could be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door.
　　It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an AntiCheating spell.
　　They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tapdance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox -- points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion.
　　Harry did the best he could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his forehead, which had been bothering him ever since his trip into the forest. Neville thought Harry had a bad case of exam nerves because Harry couldn't sleep, but the truth was that Harry kept being woken by his old nightmare, except that it was now worse than ever because there was a hooded figure dripping blood in it.
　　Maybe it was because they hadn't seen what Harry had seen in the forest, or because they didn't have scars burning on their foreheads, but Ron and Hermione didn't seem as worried about the Stone as Harry. The idea of Voldemort certainly scared them, but he didn't keep visiting them in dreams, and they were so busy with their studying they didn't have much time to fret about what Snape or anyone else might be up to.
　　Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented selfstirring cauldrons and they'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Harry couldn't help cheering with the rest.
　　"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as they joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."
　　Hermione always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, but Ron said this made him feel ill, so they wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows. "No more studying," Ron sighed happily, stretching out on the grass. "You could look more cheerful, Harry, we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet."
　　Harry was rubbing his forehead.
　　"I wish I knew what this means!" he burst out angrily. "My scar keeps hurting -- it's happened before, but never as often as this."
　　"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested.
　　"I'm not ill," said Harry. "I think it's a warning... it means danger's coming...."
　　Ron couldn't get worked up, it was too hot.
　　"Harry, relax, Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he's not going to try it again in a hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down."
　　Harry nodded, but he couldn't shake off a lurking feeling that there was something he'd forgotten to do, something important. When he tried to explain this, Hermione said, "That's just the exams. I woke up last night and was halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we'd done that one."
　　Harry was quite sure the unsettled feeling didn't have anything to do with work, though. He watched an owl flutter toward the school across the bright blue sky, a note clamped in its mouth. Hagrid was the only one who ever sent him letters. Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore. Hagrid would never tell anyone how to get past Fluffy... never... but --
　　Harry suddenly jumped to his feet.
　　"Where're you going?" said Ron sleepily.
　　 "I've just thought of something," said Harry. He had turned white. "We've got to go and see Hagrid, now."
　　"Why?" panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up.
　　"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Harry, scrambling up the grassy slope, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?"
　　"What are you talking about?" said Ron, but Harry, sprinting across the grounds toward the forest, didn't answer.
　　Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up, and he was shelling peas into a large bowl.
　　"Hullo," he said, smiling. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"
　　"Yes, please," said Ron, but Harry cut him off.
　　"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"
　　"Dunno," said Hagrid casually, "he wouldn' take his cloak off."
　　He saw the three of them look stunned and raised his eyebrows.
　　"It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head -- that's the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."
　　Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas. "What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"
　　"Mighta come up," said Hagrid, frowning as he tried to remember. "Yeah... he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here.... He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I took after... so I told him... an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon... an' then... I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks.... Let's see... yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted... but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home.... So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy..."
　　"And did he -- did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry asked, try ing to keep his voice calm.
　　"Well -- yeah -- how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep --"
　　Hagrid suddenly looked horrified.
　　"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey -- where're yeh goin'?"
　　Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't speak to each other at all until they came to a halt in the entrance hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the grounds.
　　"We've got to go to Dumbledore," said Harry. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak -- it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"
　　They looked around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing them in the right direction. They had never been told where Dumbledore lived, nor did they know anyone who had been sent to see him.
　　"We'll just have to --" Harry began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall.
　　"What are you three doing inside?"
　　It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.
　　"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione, rather bravely, Harry and Ron thought.
　　"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do. "Why?"
　　Harry swallowed -- now what?
　　"It's sort of secret," he said, but he wished at once he hadn't, because Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared.
　　"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she said coldly. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."
　　"He's gone?" said Harry frantically. "Now?"
　　"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time --
　　"But this is important."
　　"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter.
　　"Look," said Harry, throwing caution to the winds, "Professor -- it's about the Sorcerer's tone --"
　　Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms, but she didn't pick them up. "How do you know --?" she spluttered.
　　"Professor, I think -- I know -- that Sn- that someone's going to try and steal the Stone. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore."
　　She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion.
　　"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said finally. I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected."
　　"But Professor --"
　　"Potter, I know what I'm talking about," she said shortly. She bent down and gathered up the fallen books. I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine."
　　But they didn't.
　　"It's tonight," said Harry, once he was sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. "Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."
　　"But what can we --"
　　Hermione gasped. Harry and Ron wheeled round.
　　Snape was standing there.
　　"Good afternoon," he said smoothly.
　　They stared at him.
　　"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, with an odd, twisted smile.
　　"We were --" Harry began, without any idea what he was going to say.
　　"You want to be more careful," said Snape. "Hanging around
　　like this, people will think you're up to something. And Gryffindor really can't afford to lose any more points, can it?"
　　Harry flushed. They turned to go outside, but Snape called them back.
　　"Be warned, Potter -- any more nighttime wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you."
　　He strode off in the direction of the staffroom.
　　Out on the stone steps, Harry turned to the others.
　　"Right, here's what we've got to do," he whispered urgently. "One of us has got to keep an eye on Snape -- wait outside the staff room and follow him if he leaves it. Hermione, you'd better do that."
　　"Why me?"
　　"It's obvious," said Ron. "You can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick, you know." He put on a high voice, "'Oh Professor Flitwick, I'm so worried, I think I got question fourteen b wrong....'"
　　"Oh, shut up," said Hermione, but she agreed to go and watch out for Snape.
　　"And we'd better stay outside the third-floor corridor," Harry told Ron. "Come on."
　　But that part of the plan didn't work. No sooner had they reached the door separating Fluffy from the rest of the school than Professor McGonagall turned up again and this time, she lost her temper.
　　"I suppose you think you're harder to get past than a pack of enchantments!" she stormed. "Enough of this nonsense! If I hear you 've come anywhere near here again, I'll take another fifty points from Gryffindor! Yes, Weasley, from my own house!" Harry and Ron went back to the common room, Harry had just said, "At least Hermione's on Snape's tail," when the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Hermione came in.
　　"I'm sorry, Harry!" she wailed. "Snape came out and asked me what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Flitwick, and Snape went to get him, and I've only just got away, I don't know where Snape went."
　　"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" Harry said.
　　The other two stared at him. He was pale and his eyes were glittering.
　　"I'm going out of here tonight and I'm going to try and get to the Stone first."
　　"You're mad!" said Ron.
　　"You can't!" said Hermione. "After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You'll be expelled!"
　　"SO WHAP" Harry shouted. "Don't you understand? If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He'll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn't matter anymore, can't you see? D'you think he'll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor wins the house cup? If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I'll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find me there, it's only dying a bit later than I would have, because I'm never going over to the Dark Side! I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you two say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?"
　　He glared at them.
　　"You're right Harry," said Hermione in a small voice.
　　"I'll use the invisibility cloak," said Harry. "It's just lucky I got it back."
　　"But will it cover all three of us?" said Ron.
　　"All -- all three of us?"
　　"Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you go alone?"
　　"Of course not," said Hermione briskly. "How do you think you'd get to the Stone without us? I'd better go and took through my books, there might be something useful..."
　　"But if we get caught, you two will be expelled, too."
　　"Not if I can help it," said Hermione grimly. "Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that."
　　After dinner the three of them sat nervously apart in the common room. Nobody bothered them; none of the Gryffindors had anything to say to Harry any more, after all. This was the first night he hadn't been upset by it. Hermione was skimming through all her notes, hoping to come across one of the enchantments they were about to try to break. Harry and Ron didn't talk much. Both of them were thinking about what they were about to do.
　　Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted off to bed.
　　"Better get the cloak," Ron muttered, as Lee Jordan finally left, stretching and yawning. Harry ran upstairs to their dark dormitory. He putted out the cloak and then his eyes fell on the flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas. He pocketed it to use on Fluffy -- he didn't feel much like singing.
　　He ran back down to the common room.
　　"We'd better put the cloak on here, and make sure it covers all three of us -- if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own --"
　　"What are you doing?" said a voice from the corner of the room. Neville appeared from behind an armchair, clutching Trevor the toad, who looked as though he'd been making another bid for freedom.
　　"Nothing, Neville, nothing," said Harry, hurriedly putting the cloak behind his back.
　　Neville stared at their guilty faces.
　　"You're going out again," he said.
　　"No, no, no," said Hermione. "No, we're not. Why don't you go to bed, Neville?"
　　Harry looked at the grandfather clock by the door. They couldn't afford to waste any more time, Snape might even now be playing Fluffy to sleep.
　　"You can't go out," said Neville, "you'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble."
　　"You don't understand," said Harry, "this is important."
　　But Neville was clearly steeling himself to do something desperate.
　　I won't let you do it," he said, hurrying to stand in front of the portrait hole. "I'll -- I'll fight you!"
　　"Neville, "Ron exploded, "get away from that hole and don't be an idiot --"
　　"Don't you call me an idiot!" said Neville. I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!"
　　"Yes, but not to us," said Ron in exasperation. "Neville, you don't know what you're doing."
　　He took a step forward and Neville dropped Trevor the toad, who leapt out of sight.
　　"Go on then, try and hit me!" said Neville, raising his fists. "I'm ready!"
　　Harry turned to Hermione.
　　"Do something," he said desperately.
　　Hermione stepped forward.
　　"Neville," she said, "I'm really, really sorry about this."
　　She raised her wand.
　　"Petrificus Totalus!" she cried, pointing it at Neville.
　　Neville's arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together. His whole body rigid, he swayed where he stood and then fell flat on his face, stiff as a board.
　　Hermione ran to turn him over. Neville's jaws were jammed together so he couldn't speak. Only his eyes were moving, looking at them in horror.
　　"What've you done to him?" Harry whispered.
　　"It's the full Body-Bind," said Hermione miserably. "Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry."
　　"We had to, Neville, no time to explain," said Harry.
　　"You'll understand later, Neville," said Ron as they stepped over him and pulled on the invisibility cloak.
　　But leaving Neville lying motionless on the floor didn't feel like a very good omen. In their nervous state, every statue's shadow looked like Filch, every distant breath of wind sounded like Peeves swooping down on them. At the foot of the first set of stairs, they spotted Mrs. Norris skulking near the top.
　　"Oh, let's kick her, just this once," Ron whispered in Harry's ear, but Harry shook his head. As they climbed carefully around her, Mrs. Norris turned her lamplike eyes on them, but didn't do anything.
　　They didn't meet anyone else until they reached the staircase up to the third floor. Peeves was bobbing halfway up, loosening the carpet so that people would trip.
　　"Who's there?" he said suddenly as they climbed toward him. He narrowed his wicked black eyes. "Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"
　　He rose up in the air and floated there, squinting at them.
　　"Should call Filch, I should, if something's a-creeping around unseen."
　　Harry had a sudden idea.
　　"Peeves," he said, in a hoarse whisper, "the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible."
　　Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock. He caught himself in time and hovered about a foot off the stairs.
　　"So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, Sir," he said greasily. "My mistake, my mistake -- I didn't see you -- of course I didn't, you're invisible -- forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir."
　　"I have business here, Peeves," croaked Harry. "Stay away from this place tonight."
　　"I will, sir, I most certainly will," said Peeves, rising up in the air again. "Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you."
　　And he scooted off
　　"Brilliant, Harry!" whispered Ron.
　　A few seconds later, they were there, outside the third-floor corridor -- and the door was already ajar.
　　"Well, there you are," Harry said quietly, "Snape's already got past Fluffy."
　　Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all three of them what was facing them. Underneath the cloak, Harry turned to the other two.
　　"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," he said. "You can take the cloak, I won't need it now."
　　"Don't be stupid," said Ron.
　　"We're coming," said Hermione.
　　Harry pushed the door open.
　　As the door creaked, low, rumbling growls met their ears. All three of the dog's noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn't see them.
　　"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.
　　"Looks like a harp," said Ron. "Snape must have left it there."
　　"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," said Harry. "Well, here goes..."
　　He put Hagrid's flute to his lips and blew. It wasn't really a tune, but from the first note the beast's eyes began to droop. Harry hardly drew breath. Slowly, the dog's growls ceased -- it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep.
　　"Keep playing," Ron warned Harry as they slipped out of the cloak and crept toward the trapdoor. They could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as they approached the giant heads. "I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Ron, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Hermione?"
　　"No, I don't!"
　　"All right." Ron gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's legs. He bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open.
　　"What can you see?" Hermione said anxiously.
　　"Nothing -- just black -- there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop."
　　Harry, who was still playing the flute, waved at Ron to get his attention and pointed at himself.
　　"You want to go first? Are you sure?" said Ron. "I don't know how deep this thing goes. Give the flute to Hermione so she can keep him asleep."
　　Harry handed the flute over. In the few seconds' silence, the dog growled and twitched, but the moment Hermione began to play, it fell back into its deep sleep.
　　Harry climbed over it and looked down through the trapdoor. There was no sign of the bottom.
　　He lowered himself through the hole until he was hanging on by his fingertips. Then he looked up at Ron and said, "If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?"
　　"Right," said Ron.
　　"See you in a minute, I hope...
　　And Harry let go. Cold, damp air rushed past him as he fell down, down, down and -- FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump he landed on something soft. He sat up and felt around, his eyes not used to the gloom. It felt as though he was sitting on some sort of plant.
　　"It's okay!" he called up to the light the size of a postage stamp, which was the open trapdoor, "it's a soft landing, you can jump!"
　　Ron followed right away. He landed, sprawled next to Harry.
　　"What's this stuff?" were his first words.
　　"Dunno, some sort of plant thing. I suppose it's here to break the fall. Come on, Hermione!"
　　The distant music stopped. There was a loud bark from the dog, but Hermione had already jumped. She landed on Harry's other side.
　　"We must be miles under the school , she said.
　　"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," said Ron.
　　"Lucky!" shrieked Hermione. "Look at you both!"
　　She leapt up and struggled toward a damp wall. She had to struggle because the moment she had landed, the plant had started to twist snakelike tendrils around her ankles. As for Harry and Ron, their legs had already been bound tightly in long creepers without their noticing.
　　Hermione had managed to free herself before the plant got a firm grip on her. Now she watched in horror as the two boys fought to pull the plant off them, but the more they strained against it, the tighter and faster the plant wound around them.
　　"Stop moving!" Hermione ordered them. "I know what this is -- it's Devil's Snare!"
　　"Oh, I'm so glad we know what it's called, that's a great help," snarled Ron, leaning back, trying to stop the plant from curling around his neck. "Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!" said Hermione.
　　"Well, hurry up, I can't breathe!" Harry gasped, wrestling with it as it curled around his chest.
　　"Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare... what did Professor Sprout say? -- it likes the dark and the damp
　　"So light a fire!" Harry choked.
　　"Yes -- of course -- but there's no wood!" Hermione cried, wringing her hands.
　　"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" Ron bellowed. "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?"
　　"Oh, right!" said Hermione, and she whipped out her wand, waved it, muttered something, and sent a jet of the same bluebell flames she had used on Snape at the plant. In a matter of seconds, the two boys felt it loosening its grip as it cringed away from the light and warmth. Wriggling and flailing, it unraveled itself from their bodies, and they were able to pull free.
　　"Lucky you pay attention in Herbology, Hermione," said Harry as he joined her by the wall, wiping sweat off his face.
　　"Yeah," said Ron, "and lucky Harry doesn't lose his head in a crisis -- 'there's no wood,' honestly."
　　"This way," said Harry, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward.
　　All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward, and Harry was reminded of Gringotts. With an unpleasant jolt of the heart, he remembered the dragons said to be guarding vaults in the wizards' bank. If they met a dragon, a fully-grown dragon -- Norbert had been bad enough...
　　"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered.
　　Harry listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead.
　　"Do you think it's a ghost?"
　　"I don't know... sounds like wings to me."
　　"There's light ahead -- I can see something moving."
　　They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.
　　"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ron.
　　"Probably," said Harry. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once... well, there's no other choice... I'll run."
　　He took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms, and sprinted across the room. He expected to feel sharp beaks and claws tearing at him any second, but nothing happened. He reached the door untouched. He pulled the handle, but it was locked.
　　The other two followed him. They tugged and heaved at the door, but it wouldn't budge, not even when Hermione tried her Alohomora charm.
　　"Now what?" said Ron.
　　"These birds... they can't be here just for decoration," said Hermione.
　　They watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering -- glittering?
　　"They're not birds!" Harry said suddenly. "They're keys! Winged keys -- look carefully. So that must mean..." he looked around the chamber while the other two squinted up at the flock of keys. "... yes -- look! Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"
　　"But there are hundreds of them!"
　　Ron examined the lock on the door.
　　"We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one -- probably silver, like the handle."
　　They each seized a broomstick and kicked off into the air, soaring into the midst of the cloud of keys. They grabbed and snatched, but the bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to catch one.
　　Not for nothing, though, was Harry the youngest Seeker in a century. He had a knack for spotting things other people didn't. After a minute's weaving about through the whirl of rainbow feathers, he noticed a large silver key that had a bent wing, as if it had already been caught and stuffed roughly into the keyhole.
　　"That one!" he called to the others. "That big one -- there -- no, there -- with bright blue wings -- the feathers are all crumpled on one side."
　　Ron went speeding in the direction that Harry was pointing, crashed into the ceiling, and nearly fell off his broom.
　　"We've got to close in on it!" Harry called, not taking his eyes off the key with the damaged wing. "Ron, you come at it from above -- Hermione, stay below and stop it from going down and I'll try and catch it. Right, NOW!"
　　Ron dived, Hermione rocketed upward, the key dodged them both, and Harry streaked after it; it sped toward the wall, Harry leaned forward and with a nasty, crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one hand. Ron and Hermione's cheers echoed around the high chamber.
　　They landed quickly, and Harry ran to the door, the key struggling in his hand. He rammed it into the lock and turned -- it worked. The moment the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.
　　"Ready?" Harry asked the other two, his hand on the door handle. They nodded. He pulled the door open.
　　The next chamber was so dark they couldn't see anything at all. But as they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.
　　They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Harry, Ron and Hermione shivered slightly -- the towering white chessmen had no faces.
　　"Now what do we do?" Harry whispered.
　　"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ron. "We've got to play our way across the room."
　　Behind the white pieces they could see another door.
　　"How?" said Hermione nervously.
　　"I think," said Ron, "we're going to have to be chessmen."
　　He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.
　　"Do we -- er -- have to join you to get across?" The black knight nodded. Ron turned to the other two.
　　"This needs thinking about he said. I suppose we've got to take the place of three of the black pieces...."
　　Harry and Hermione stayed quiet, watching Ron think. Finally he said, "Now, don't be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess --"
　　"We're not offended," said Harry quickly. "Just tell us what to do."
　　"Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, YOU 90 next to him instead of that castle."
　　"What about you?"
　　"I'm going to be a knight," said Ron.
　　The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a knight, a bishop, and a castle turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving three empty squares that Harry, Ron, and Hermione took.
　　"White always plays first in chess," said Ron, peering across the board. "Yes... look..."
　　A white pawn had moved forward two squares.
　　Ron started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he sent them. Harry's knees were trembling. What if they lost?
　　"Harry -- move diagonally four squares to the right."
　　Their first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, facedown.
　　"Had to let that happen," said Ron, looking shaken. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on."
　　Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Ron only just noticed in time that Harry and Hermione were in danger. He himself darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones.
　　"We're nearly there," he muttered suddenly. "Let me think let me think..."
　　The white queen turned her blank face toward him.
　　"Yes..." said Ron softly, "It's the only way... I've got to be taken."
　　"NOF Harry and Hermione shouted.
　　"That's chess!" snapped Ron. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she'll take me -- that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"
　　"But --"
　　"Do you want to stop Snape or not?"
　　"Ron --"
　　"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"
　　There was no alternative.
　　"Ready?" Ron called, his face pale but determined. "Here I go - now, don't hang around once you've won."
　　He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor - Hermione screamed but stayed on her square - the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He looked as if he'd been knocked out.
　　Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left.
　　The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. With one last desperate look back at Ron, Harry and Hermione charged through the door and up the next passageway.
　　"What if he's --?"
　　"He'll be all right," said Harry, trying to convince himself. "What do you reckon's next?"
　　"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare; Flitwick must've put charms on the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive; that leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's."
　　They had reached another door.
　　"All right?" Harry whispered.
　　"Go on."
　　Harry pushed it open.
　　A disgusting smell filled their nostrils, making both of them pull their robes up over their noses. Eyes watering, they saw, flat on the floor in front of them, a troll even larger than the one they had tackled, out cold with a bloody lump on its head.
　　"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," Harry whispered as they stepped carefully over one of its massive legs. "Come on, I can't breathe."
　　He pulled open the next door, both of them hardly daring to look at what came next - but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.
　　"Snape's," said Harry. "What do we have to do?"
　　They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. They were trapped.
　　"Look!" Hermione seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Harry looked over her shoulder to read it:
　　Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,
　　Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,
　　One among us seven will let you move ahead,
　　Another will transport the drinker back instead,
　　Two among our number hold only nettle wine,
　　Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line.
　　Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,
　　To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:
　　First, however slyly the poison tries to hide
　　You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;
　　Second, different are those who stand at either end,
　　But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;
　　Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,
　　Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;
　　Fourth, the second left and the second on the right
　　Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.
　　Hermione let out a great sigh and Harry, amazed, saw that she was smiling, the very last thing he felt like doing.
　　"Brilliant," said Hermione. "This isn't magic -- it's logic -- a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever."
　　"But so will we, won't we?" "Of course not," said Hermione. "Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple."
　　"But how do we know which to drink?"
　　"Give me a minute."
　　Hermione read the paper several times. Then she walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at them. At last, she clapped her hands.
　　"Got it," she said. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire -- toward the Stone."
　　Harry looked at the tiny bottle.
　　"There's only enough there for one of us," he said. "That's hardly one swallow."
　　They looked at each other.
　　"Which one will get you back through the purple flames?"
　　Hermione pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line.
　　"You drink that," said Harry. "No, listen, get back and get Ron. Grab brooms from the flying- key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy -- go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I'm no match for him, really."
　　"But Harry -- what if You-Know-Who's with him?"
　　"Well -- I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry, pointing at his scar. "I might get lucky again."
　　Hermione's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him.
　　"Hermione!"
　　"Harry -- you're a great wizard, you know."
　　"I'm not as good as you," said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him.
　　"Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things -- friendship and bravery and -- oh Harry -- be careful!"
　　"You drink first," said Harry. "You are sure which is which, aren't you?"
　　"Positive," said Hermione. She took a long drink from the round bottle at the end, and shuddered.
　　"It's not poison?" said Harry anxiously.
　　"No -- but it's like ice."
　　"Quick, go, before it wears off."
　　"Good luck -- take care."
　　"GO!"
　　Hermione turned and walked straight through the purple fire.
　　Harry took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle. He turned to face the black flames.
　　"Here I come," he said, and he drained the little bottle in one gulp.
　　It was indeed as though ice was flooding his body. He put the bottle down and walked forward; he braced himself, saw the black flames licking his body, but couldn't feel them -- for a moment he could see nothing but dark fire -- then he was on the other side, in the last chamber.
　　There was already someone there -- but it wasn't Snape. It wasn't even Voldemort.

第十六章　穿越活板门
　
　

　
　　哈利恐怕永远也记不清，他是怎样通过那些考试的，因为当时他整天提心吊胆，随时提防着伏地魔破门而入。不过随着时间一天天地过去，似乎路威仍然在那扇紧锁的门后面，安然无恙地活着。
　
　　天气十分闷热，他们答题的大教室里更是热得难受。老师发给他们专门用于考试的新羽毛笔，都是念了防作弊的咒语的。
　
　　另外还有实际操作的考试。弗立维教授叫他们挨个儿走进教室里，看他们能不能使一只凤梨跳着踢踏舞走过一张书桌。麦格教授看着他们把一只老鼠变成一个鼻烟盒——盒子越精美，分数就越高；如果盒子上还留着老鼠的胡须，就要扣分。考魔药学时，他们拼命回忆遗忘药水的调配程序。斯内普站在背后密切注视着，他们脖子后面都能感觉到他的呼吸，这使他们心里非常紧张。
　
　　哈利全心全意地投入考试，尽量忘记前额上剧烈的刺痛。自从他上次从森林里回来，这种疼痛的感觉就一直纠缠着他。纳威看到哈利整夜睡不好觉，以为他患了严重的考试恐惧症。实际上，哈利是不断被过去的那个噩梦惊醒，而且现在比过去更糟，因为噩梦里又多了一个戴着兜帽、嘴角滴着鲜血的身影。
　
　　罗恩和赫敏倒并不像哈利这样整日为魔法石担心，这也许是因为他们没有看见哈利在森林里遭遇的情景，也许是因为他们的前额上没有那道烧灼般疼痛的伤疤。伏地魔确实令他们害怕，但他只是一个抽象的概念，并没有来纠缠他们的梦境，而且他们整天忙着复习功课，也没有时间去操心斯内普或其他什么人可能会采取什么行动。
　
　　最后一门考的是魔法史。只要再坚持一个小时，回答出是哪几个古怪的老巫师发明了自动搅拌坩埚，他们就自由了，就可以轻轻松松地玩上整整一个星期，直到考试成绩公布。当宾斯教授的幽灵叫他们放下羽毛笔把答题的羊皮纸卷起来时，哈利忍不住和其他同学一道欢呼起来。
　
　　“比我原先以为的容易多了，”当他们随着人群一起来到外面阳光灿烂的场地上时，赫敏说道，“我其实不需要去记‘一六三七年的狼人行为准则’，以及小精灵叛乱的经过。”
　
　　赫敏总喜欢在考完之后再重温一遍考试内容，但罗恩说这使他感到恶心。于是他们慢悠悠地顺坡而下，来到湖边，扑通一声坐在树下。那边，一只大鱿鱼躺在温暖的浅水里晒太阳，韦斯莱孪生兄弟和李乔丹正在轻轻拨弄它的触须。
　
　　“多好啊，再也不用复习了。”罗恩快活地吐了一口气，伸展四肢躺在草地上。“哈利，高兴一点嘛，一个星期以后我们才会知道考得多么糟糕，没必要现在就为这个操心。”
　
　　哈利揉着他的前额。
　
　　“我真想知道这是什么意思！”他突然恼火地说，“我的伤疤一直在疼——以前曾经疼过，但从来不像现在这样频繁发作。”
　
　　“去找庞弗雷夫人看看吧。”赫敏提议道。
　
　　“我没有生病，”哈利说，“我认为这是一个警告……意味着危险即将来临
……”
　
　　罗恩打不起精神来，天气实在太热了。
　
　　“哈利，放松一点儿，赫敏说得对，只要有邓布利多在，魔法石就不会有危险。不管怎么说，我们没有发现任何证据，能够确定斯内普打听到了制服路威的办法。他上次差点被咬断了腿，不会匆匆忙忙再去冒险尝试的。如果连海格都背叛了邓布利多，那么纳威就可以入选英格兰魁地奇球队了。”
　
　　哈利点了点头，但他怎么也摆脱不了一种隐隐约约的感觉，似乎他忘了做一件事，一件非常重要的事。当他想对两个朋友解释这种感觉时，赫敏说：“这都是考试在作怪。我昨天夜里醒来，忙着复习变形课的笔记，然后才突然想起来，那门课我们已经考过了。”
　
　　然而，哈利可以确定，那种不安的感觉与考试没有丝毫关系。他望着一只猫头鹰扑扇着翅膀掠过蔚蓝色的天空，往学校的方向飞去，嘴里叼着一张纸条。只有海格一个人给他写过信。海格是永远不会背叛邓布利多的。海格决不会告诉任何人制服路威的办法……决不会的……可是——哈利突然一跃而起。
　
　　“你到哪儿去？”罗恩带着困意问。
　
　　“我突然想起了一件事。”哈利说，他的脸色变得煞白。“我们必须马上去找海格。”
　
　　“为什么？”赫敏喘着气问，竭力赶上他。
　
　　“你们难道不觉得有些奇怪吗？”哈利一边匆匆跑下草坡，一边说道，“海格最希望得到的是一条龙，而一个陌生人的口袋里偏巧就装着一只龙蛋？有多少人整天带着龙蛋走来走去？要知道那是违反巫师法律的呀！你们难道不觉得，他们能找到海格不是太幸运了吗？我怎么以前没有想到这点呢？”
　
　　“你到底想做什么？”罗恩问，但是哈利只顾飞跑着穿过场地，往森林的方向奔去，没有回答他的问题。
　
　　海格坐在小屋外面的一把椅子上，裤管高高地挽起，对着一只大碗，忙着剥豌豆荚。
　
　　“你好，”他笑着说，“考试结束了？有时间喝杯茶吗？”
　
　　“好的，谢谢。”罗恩说，可是哈利打断了他。
　
　　“不了，我们有急事。海格，我有一件事要问你。你还记得你玩牌赢得诺伯的那天晚上吗？和你一起玩牌的那个陌生人长得什么样儿？”
　
　　“不知道，”海格漫不经心地说，“他不肯脱掉他的斗篷。”他看见三个孩子脸上立刻显出惊愕的神情，不由吃惊地扬起了眉毛。
　
　　“这有什么好奇怪的，猪头酒吧——就是村里的那个酒吧，总是有一些稀奇古怪的家伙光顾。那家伙兴许是个卖龙的小贩吧。我一直没有看清他的脸，他戴着兜帽呢。”
　
　　哈利扑通跌坐在那一碗豌豆旁边。
　
　　“你当时跟他说了什么，海格？你提到霍格沃茨没有？”
　
　　“兴许提到了吧。”海格皱着眉头使劲回忆着，“对了……他问我是做什么的，我就告诉他我是这里的狩猎场看守……他又稍微问了问我照看的是哪些动物
……我就告诉他了……然后我说我一直特别想要一条龙……后来……我记不太清楚了，他不停地买酒给我喝……让我再想想……对了，后来他说他手里有一颗龙蛋，如果我想要，我们可以玩牌赌一赌……但他必须弄清我有没有能力对付这条龙，他可不希望龙到时候跑出去惹是生非……于是我就对他说，我连路威都管得服服帖帖，一条龙根本不算什么……”
　
　　“他是不是显得——显得对路威很感兴趣？”啥利问，竭力使自己的口吻保持平静。
　
　　“没错——挺感兴趣的——你能碰到几只三个脑袋的狗呢，即使在霍格沃茨附近？所以我就告诉他，路威其实很容易对付，你只要知道怎样使它安静下来，放点音乐给它听听，它就马上睡着了——”
　
　　海格脸上一下子露出惊恐的表情。
　
　　“我不该把这个告诉你们的！”他脱口说道，“把我说的话忘掉吧！喂——你们上哪儿去？”
　
　　哈利、罗恩和赫敏一路上没有交换一句话，一直跑进门厅才停住脚步。刚从外面的场地上进来，门厅里显得格外阴冷、黑暗。
　
　　“我们必须去找邓布利多，”哈利说，“海格把制服路威的方法告诉了一个陌生人，那个穿斗篷的不是斯内普，就是伏地魔——他只要把海格灌醉了，就很容易套出他的话来。我只希望邓布利多能相信我们。如果贝恩不出来阻拦，费伦泽是会为我们作证的。邓布利多的办公室在哪里？”
　
　　他们环顾四周，似乎指望着看到一个指示牌为他们指点方向。从来没有人告诉他们邓布利多住在哪里，他们也不知道有谁曾被带去见过校长。
　
　　“我们只好——”哈利的话没说完，门厅那头突然响起一个声音。
　
　　“你们三个待在屋里做什么？”
　
　　是麦格教授，怀里抱着一大摞书。
　
　　“我们想见邓布利多教授。”赫敏说。哈利和罗恩认为她的表现非常勇敢。
　
　　“想见邓布利多教授？”麦格教授重复了一句，似乎他们有这样的想法是非常可疑的。“为什么？”
　
　　哈利咽了一口唾沫——怎么说呢？“这是一个秘密。”话一出口，他立刻就希望自己没有这么说，因为麦格教授生气了，她的鼻翼扇动着。
　
　　“邓布利多教授十分钟前离开了。”她冷冰冰她说，“他收到猫头鹰从魔法部送来的紧急信件，立刻飞往伦敦去了。”
　
　　“他走了？”哈利万分焦急地说，“在这个时候？”
　
　　“邓布利多教授是一个非常了不起的巫师，日理万机，时间宝贵——”
　
　　“可是这件事非常重要。”
　
　　“你们要说的事比魔法部还重要吗，哈利？”
　
　　“是这样，”哈利说，他把谨慎抛到了九霄云外，“教授——是关于魔法石的——”
　
　　麦格教授无论如何也没有想到会是这件事。她怀里的书稀里哗啦地掉到地板上，她没有去捡。
　
　　“你们怎么知道——”她结结巴巴地问。
　
　　“教授，我认为——我知道——斯内——有人试图去偷魔法石。我必须和邓布利多教授谈谈。”
　
　　麦格教授用交织着惊愕和怀疑的目光看着他。
　
　　“邓布利多教授明天回来。”她最后说道，“我不知道你是怎么打听到魔法石的，不过请放心，没有人能够把它偷走，它受到严密的保护，万无一失。”
　
　　“可是教授——”
　
　　“波特，我知道自己在说什么。”她不耐烦地说，然后弯下腰去，拾起掉在地上的书。“我建议你们到户外去晒晒太阳。”
　
　　但是他们没有这么做。
　
　　“就在今晚，”哈利确定麦格教授走远了听不见时，便赶紧说道，“斯内普今晚就要穿越活板门了。他所需要的东西都弄到了，现在又把邓布利多骗离了学校。那封信准是他送来的，我敢说魔法部看到邓布利多突然出现，一定会大吃一惊的。”
　
　　“可是我们能有什么——”
　
　　赫敏猛地吸了一口冷气。哈利和罗恩转过身来。
　
　　斯内普站在那里。
　
　　“下午好。”他用圆滑的口吻说。
　
　　他们呆呆地盯着他。
　
　　“在这样的天气，你们不应该待在屋里。”他说，脸上肌肉扭曲，露出一个古怪的笑容。
　
　　“我们刚才在——”哈利说，其实他也不知道自己要说什么。
　
　　“你们需要小心一些，”斯内普说，“像这样到处乱逛，别人会以为你们想干什么坏事呢。格兰芬多可经不起再丢分了，是吗？”
　
　　哈利脸红了。他们转身朝外面走，可是斯内普又把他们叫了回去。“顺便提醒你一句，波特——如果你再在半夜三更到处乱逛，我要亲自把你开除。祝你愉快。”
　
　　他大步朝着教工休息室的方向走去。
　
　　三个人一来到外面的石阶上，哈利就对罗恩和赫敏说：“好吧，我们现在必须这么做，”他急切地小声说，“一个人负责监视斯内普——等在教工休息室外面，如果他出来，就跟着他。赫敏，这件事最好由你来办。”
　
　　“为什么是我？”
　
　　“那还用说，”罗恩说道，“你可以假装在等弗立维教授。”他装出一种尖细的女声，“哦，弗立维教授，我太担心了，我觉得我第十四题选ｂ可能选错了
……”
　
　　“呸，闭嘴。”赫敏说，但她还是同意去盯住斯内普。
　
　　“我们俩最好待在四楼的走廊外面。”哈利对罗恩说，“走吧。”
　
　　但是这一部分计划没有执行成功。他们刚来到那道把路威与学校其他地方隔开的门口，麦格教授就突然出现了，这次她忍不住大发脾气。
　
　　“我想，你们大概以为自己比一大堆魔法咒语还要厉害吧？”她咆哮着说，“够了，别胡闹了！如果下次我听说你们又跑到这儿来，就要给格兰芬多扣掉五十分！是的，韦斯莱，给我自己的学院扣掉五十分！”
　
　　哈利和罗恩灰溜溜地返回公共休息室。哈利刚说了一句“至少有赫敏盯着斯内普呢”，就看见胖夫人的肖像猛地转开，赫敏钻了进来。
　
　　“对不起，哈利！”她呜咽着说，“斯内普出来了，他问我在那里做什么，我说我在等弗立维。斯内普就去找他，我只好赶紧跑开了。我不知道斯内普现在去哪儿了。”
　
　　“好吧，看来只能这样了，是吧？”哈利说。赫敏和罗恩都盯着他，只见他脸色苍白，眼睛炯炯发亮。“我今晚偷偷从这里溜出去，我要争取先把魔法石弄到手。”
　
　　“你疯了！”罗恩说。
　
　　“你不能这样做！”赫敏说，“你没听见麦格和斯内普说的话吗？你会被开除的！”
　
　　“那又怎么样？”哈利大声说，“你们难道不明白吗？如果斯内普弄到了魔法石，伏地魔就会回来！你们难道没有听说，当年他想独霸天下时，这里是个什么情形吗？如果让他得手，霍格沃茨就不会存在了，也就无所谓开除不开除了！他会把学校夷为平地，或者把它变成一所专门传授黑魔法的学校！你们难道看不出来，现在丢不丢分已经无关紧要了！你们难道以为，只要格兰芬多赢得了学院杯，他就会放过你和你的全家吗？如果我还没来得及拿到魔法石就被抓住了，那么，我就只好回到德思礼家，等着伏地魔到那儿去找我。那也只是比现在晚死一点而已，因为我是绝不会去投靠黑势力的！我今晚一定要穿越那道活板门，你们俩说什么都拦不住我！伏地魔杀死了我的父母，记得吗？”
　
　　他气冲冲地瞪着他们。
　
　　“你是对的，哈利。”赫敏细声细气地说。
　
　　“我要用上我的隐形衣，”哈利说，“幸亏我叉把它找了回来。”
　
　　“但是它能把我们三个人都罩住吗？”
　
　　“我们——我们三个人？”
　
　　“哦，别傻了，你难道以为我们会让你单独行动吗？”
　
　　“当然不会，”赫敏泼辣地说，“你怎么会想到撇下我们，独自一个人去找魔法石呢？我最好去翻翻我的那些书，也许能找到一些有用的东西……”
　
　　“可是如果我们被抓住了，你们两个也会被开除的。”
　
　　“也许不会，”赫敏十分坚决地说，“弗立维偷偷告诉我说，我在他那门功课的考试中得了一百十二分。这么高的分数，他们是舍不得把我赶走的。”
　
　　吃过晚饭，他们三个紧张地避开别人，坐在公共休息室里。没有人来理会他们；实际上，格兰芬多的学生们现在都没有话要对哈利说了。很多天来，这是哈利第一次不为这件事感到难过。赫敏忙着翻阅她所有的笔记，希望能碰巧看到一条他们待会儿要去解除的魔咒。哈利和罗恩很少开口说话，心里都在想着他们即将要做的事情。
　
　　同学们一个个地上床睡觉去了，公共休息室里的人渐渐减少。
　
　　“可以去拿隐形衣了。”罗恩说。
　
　　这时，李乔丹也终于伸着懒腰、打着哈欠离去了。哈利跑到楼上，冲进他们漆黑的宿舍，取出隐形衣，就在这时，他无意间看见了圣诞节时海格送给他的那支笛子。他把笛子装进口袋，准备用它去对付路威——他觉得自己没有心情唱歌给那只大狗听。
　
　　他快步跑回公共休息室。“我们最好在这里就穿上隐形衣，看看它是不是能把我们三个人都遮住——如果费尔奇看见一双脚自己在地上走——”
　
　　“你们在做什么？”房间的一个角落响起了一个人的声音。纳威从一把扶手椅后面闪了出来，手里抓着他的那只癞蛤蟆莱福。看样子，刚才莱福又为获得自由而抗争了一番。
　
　　“没什么，纳威，没什么。”哈利说着，赶紧把隐形衣藏在背后。
　
　　纳威盯着他们做贼心虚的脸。
　
　　“你们又打算出去。”他说。
　
　　“没有，没有，”赫敏说，“我们才不想出去呢。纳威，你为什么不去睡觉呢？”
　
　　哈利看了看门边的那台老爷钟。他们不能再耽搁时间了，斯内普大概已经在奏音乐，哄路威入睡了。
　
　　“你们不能出去，”纳威说，“你们还会被抓住的。那样的话，格兰芬多可就变得更倒霉了。”
　
　　“你不明白，”哈利说，“这件事非常重要。”
　
　　可是纳威这次像是铁了心，不顾一切地要阻拦他们。
　
　　“我不让你们这样做。”他说着，赶过去挡在肖像洞口前面，“我要——我要跟你们较量一下！”
　
　　“纳威，”罗恩勃然大怒，“快从那洞口闪开，别做一个白痴——”
　
　　“不许你叫我白痴！”纳威说，“我认为你们不应该再违反校规了！而且当初是你们鼓励我勇敢地反抗别人的！”
　
　　“没错，但不是反抗我们呀。”罗恩气急败坏地说，“纳威，你根本不知道你在做什么。”
　
　　他向前跨上了一步，纳威扔掉手里的癞蛤蟆菜福，那小东西三跳两跳就不见了。
　
　　“来吧，过来打我呀！”纳威举起两只拳头，说道，“我准备好了！”
　
　　哈利转向赫敏。“想想办法吧。”他焦急地说。
　
　　赫敏走上前来。“纳威，”她说，“这么做我真是非常非常的抱歉。”她举起魔杖。“统统——石化！”她把魔杖对准纳威，大喊一声。
　
　　纳威的手臂啪地贴在身体两侧，双腿立正，站得笔直。他的整个身体变得僵硬了，在原地摇摆了几下，便扑通一声扑倒在地，看上去像木板一样硬邦邦的。赫敏跑过去把他翻转过来。纳威的上下牙床锁在一起，说不出话来。只有他的眼珠在转动，惊恐地望着他们。
　
　　“你把他怎么了？”哈利小声问道。
　
　　“这是全身束缚咒。”赫敏难过地说，“哦，纳威，我真是太抱歉了。”
　
　　“你以后会明白的，纳威。”罗恩说，然后他们从纳威身上跨过去，穿上了隐形衣。
　
　　可是，撇下纳威动弹不得地躺在地板上，他们总觉得这不是一个好兆头。在情绪高度紧张的情况下，阴影里的每一座雕塑都像是费尔奇的身影，而远处传来的每一丝风声，听上去都像是皮皮鬼在朝他们猛扑过来。
　
　　就在他们准备登上第一道楼梯时，突然看见洛丽丝夫人躲藏在楼梯顶层。
　
　　“哦，我们踢它一脚吧，就踢这一次。”罗恩在哈利耳边悄悄说，可是哈利摇了摇头。他们小心地绕过它，洛丽丝夫人用两只贼亮亮的眼睛朝他们望来，但是什么也没有看见。
　
　　他们一路没有碰到一个人，顺利地来到通往四楼的楼梯口。只见皮皮鬼正蹦蹦跳跳地往楼上走，一边把楼梯上铺的地毯扯松，想害得别人摔倒。
　
　　“那边是谁？”他们踏上楼梯，迎面向他走去时，皮皮鬼突然眯起那双总喜欢恶作剧的黑眼睛说道，“我知道你就在那儿，虽然我看不见。你是食尸鬼，还是还魂鬼，还是学生小鬼头？”
　
　　他升到半空中停住，眯起眼朝他们这边望着。
　
　　“有个看不见的东西在这里鬼鬼祟祟地乱蹿，我应该去向费尔奇汇报。”
　
　　哈利灵机一动，有了个主意。“皮皮鬼，”他用嘶哑的声音轻轻说，“血人巴罗不想被别人看见，自然是有他的道理的。”
　
　　皮皮鬼大吃一惊，差点从空中摔下来。他及时稳住身子，在楼梯上方一英尺的地方盘旋着。
　
　　“对不起，血人大人，巴罗先生，爵爷，”他甜言蜜语地说，“都怪我，都怪我——我没有看见您——我当然看不见，您隐形了嘛——请原谅小皮皮鬼的这个小小玩笑吧，爵爷。”
　
　　“我在这里有事情要办，皮皮鬼，”哈利低声吼道，“你今晚不许再到这里来。”
　
　　“遵命，爵爷，我一定遵命。”皮皮鬼说着，又重新升到空中。“希望您事情办得顺利，巴罗大人，我就不打扰您了。”他说完便飞快地逃走了。
　
　　“真精彩，哈利！”罗恩小声说。
　
　　几秒钟后，他们就来到了四搂的走廊外面——那扇门已经开了一道缝。
　
　　“怎么样。看到了吧，”哈利悄声说道，“斯内普已经顺利通过了路威。”
　
　　看到那扇半开的门，他们似乎更明确地意识到了他们即将面临的一切。
　
　　哈利在隐形衣下对罗恩和赫敏说：“如果你们现在想打退堂鼓，我不会怪你们的。”他说，“你们可以把隐形衣带走，我已经不需要它了。”
　
　　“别说傻话。”罗恩说。
　
　　“我们一起去吧。”赫敏说。
　
　　哈利把门推开了。
　
　　随着吱吱嘎嘎的开门声，他们耳边立刻响起了低沉的狂吠。大狗虽然看不见他们，但它那三个鼻子全朝着他们这边疯狂地抽动、嗅吸着。
　
　　“它脚边那是什么东西？”赫敏小声问道。
　
　　“看样子像是一把竖琴，”罗恩说，“肯定是斯内普留下来的。”
　
　　“显然只要音乐一停止，它就会马上醒过来。”哈利说，“好吧，你听着吧
……”
　
　　他把海格的笛子放到嘴边，吹了起来。他吹得不成调子，但他刚吹出第一个音符，大狗的眼睛就开始往下耷拉。哈利几乎是不歇气地吹着。慢慢地，大狗的狂吠声停止了——它摇摇摆摆地晃了几晃，膝盖一软跪下了，然后就扑通倒在地板上，沉沉睡去。
　
　　“接着吹，别停下。”罗恩提醒哈利，与此同时，他们脱去隐形衣，蹑手蹑脚地朝活板门走去。他们靠近那三只巨大的脑袋时，可以感觉到大狗那热乎乎、臭烘烘的气息。
　
　　“我想我们可以把活板门拉开了。”罗恩说道，一边望着大狗的身后，“赫敏，你愿意第一个下去吗？”
　
　　“不，我可不愿意！”
　
　　“好吧。”罗恩咬了咬牙，小心地从大狗的腿上跨过去。他弯下腰，拉动活板门上的拉环，门一下子敞开了。
　
　　“你能看见什么？”赫敏着急地问道。
　
　　“什么也看不见——一片漆黑——也没有梯子可以下去，我们只好跳了。”
　
　　哈利一边仍在吹着笛子，一边朝罗恩挥了挥手，引起他的注意，又甩手指了指自己。
　
　　“你想第一个下去？真的吗？”罗恩说，“我不知道这个洞有多深。把笛子给赫敏，让她继续哄大狗睡觉。”
　
　　哈利把笛子递了过去。在音乐停顿的这几秒钟里，大狗又咆哮起来，并开始扭动身子，可是赫敏刚把笛子吹响，它就又沉沉地睡去了。哈利从大狗身上爬过去，透过那个洞口往下看。下面深不见底。
　
　　他慢慢顺着洞口滑下去，最后只靠十个手指攀住洞口边缘。他抬头看着罗恩说：“如果我出了什么意外，你们别跟着下来。直接到猫头鹰住的橱屋，派海德薇给邓布利多送信，行吗？”
　
　　“好吧。”罗恩说。
　
　　“过会儿见，我希望……”
　
　　哈利松开手，寒冷、潮湿的空气在他耳边呼呼掠过。他向下坠落，坠落，坠落，然后——扑通。随着一声奇怪而沉闷的撞击声，哈利落到了一个柔软的东西上面。他坐起来，朝四下里摸索着。他的眼睛还没有适应这里昏暗的光线。他觉得自己仿佛是坐在某种植物上面。
　
　　“没问题！”他冲着洞口喊道，现在洞口看上去只是邮票大小的一块光斑。“是软着陆，你们可以跳了！”
　
　　罗恩紧接着就跳了下来。他四肢着地，落在哈利身边。
　
　　“这是什么玩艺儿？”他一开口就问。
　
　　“不知道，好像是一种植物。大概是铺在这里减轻坠落时的碰撞的。来吧，赫敏！”
　
　　远处的笛声停止了。大狗又发出了响亮的狂吠，但是赫敏已经跳下来了。她降落在哈利的另一边。
　
　　“我们一定离学校很远很远了。”她说。
　
　　“说实在的，幸好有这堆植物铺在这里。”罗恩说。
　
　　“幸好什么！”赫敏尖叫起来，“看看你们两个！”
　
　　她猛地跳起来，挣扎着朝一面潮湿的墙壁移动。她之所以这样挣扎，是因为她刚一落下，那植物就伸出蛇一般的卷须，缠绕住她的脚踝。而哈利和罗恩呢，他们不知不觉中已经被长长的藤蔓缠住了双腿。
　
　　赫敏在藤蔓还没来及把她牢牢抓住之前，总算挣脱了出去。此刻她惊恐地看着两个男孩拼命扯掉那些藤蔓，但是他们越是挣脱，藤蔓就缠得越快、越紧。
　
　　“别动了！”赫敏对他们喝道，“我知道这是什么了——这是魔鬼网！”
　
　　“哦，我真高兴，我们总算知道它叫什么名字了，这对我们大有帮助。”罗恩气呼呼地说，向后躲闪着，不让藤蔓缠住他的脖子。
　
　　“你给我闭嘴，我正在回想怎么把它杀死！”赫敏说。
　
　　“拜托你快点想，我透不过气来了！”哈利大喘着气说，拼命扯住那根要缠住他胸脯的藤蔓。
　
　　“魔鬼网，魔鬼网……斯普劳特教授是怎么说的？说它喜欢阴暗潮湿——”
　
　　“那么就点火烧它！”哈利几乎要窒息了。
　
　　“是啊——当然可以——可是这里没有木柴啊！”赫敏大声说道，焦急地扭着双手。
　
　　“你疯了吗？”罗恩吼道，“你到底是不是女巫？”
　
　　“哦，对了！”赫敏说着，一把抽出魔杖，挥动着，嘴里念念有词，然后就像那次对付斯内普一样，让魔杖头上射出一道蓝色风铃草般的火焰。在短短几秒钟内，两个男孩就觉得藤蔓在退缩着躲避光明和温暖，松开了对他们的纠缠。植物扭曲着，抽动着，自动松开缠绕在他们身上的卷须，哈利和罗恩终于完全挣脱了出来。
　
　　“幸亏你在草药课上听得很认真，赫敏。”哈利和赫敏一样退到墙边，擦着脸上的汗水，说道。
　
　　“是啊，”罗恩说道，“也幸亏哈利在关键时刻没有像你一样慌了手脚——‘可是这里没有木柴啊’，瞧你说的什么话！”
　
　　“这边走。”哈利指着一条石头走廊说道。这是惟一可走的道路。
　
　　他们听见，除了他们自己的脚步声，还有水珠顺着墙壁缓缓滴落的声音。这个走廊顺坡而下，这使哈利联想到了古灵阁。他的心猛地跳动了一下，他想起了传说中看守巫师银行金库的那些巨龙。如果他们碰到一条龙，一条完全成年的大龙——诺伯就已经够难对付的了……
　
　　“你能听见什么动静吗？”罗恩小声问。
　
　　哈利侧耳细听。前面似乎传来了轻轻的沙沙声和叮叮当当的声音。
　
　　“会不会是一个幽灵？”

　　“我不知道……好像是翅膀扇动的声音。”
　
　　“前面有亮光——我看见有什么东西在动。”
　
　　他们来到走廊尽头，面前是一间灯火通明的房间，上面是高高的拱顶形天花板。无数只像宝石一般光彩夺目的小鸟儿，扑扇着翅膀在房间里到处飞来飞去。房间对面有一扇厚重的木门。
　
　　“你说，如果我们穿过房间，它们会朝我们发动进攻吗？”罗恩问。
　
　　“有可能。”哈利说，“它们看样子倒并不凶恶，但如果它们一下子全部冲过来，恐怕……管它呢，反正也没有别的办法……我跑过去了。”
　
　　他深深吸了口气，用手臂挡住面孔，飞快地冲到房间的另一头。他以为随时都会有尖利的嘴巴和爪子来撕扯他，结果却平安无事。他毫发无损地来到那扇门边，拉了拉把手，门是锁着的。
　
　　罗恩和赫敏也跟了过来。他们一起又拉又推，可是木门纹丝不动，赫敏又试了试她的阿拉霍洞开咒，也无济于事。
　
　　“怎么办？”罗恩问。
　
　　“这些鸟……它们不可能只是用来作装饰的。”赫敏说。
　
　　三个人注视着那些小鸟在头顶上飞来飞去，闪闪发亮——闪闪发亮？
　
　　“它们根本不是什么鸟！”哈利突然说，“它们是钥匙！带翅膀的钥匙——你们仔细看看。显然这意味着……”哈利环顾着房间的每个角落，而罗恩和赫敏则仰头凝视着那一大群飞舞的钥匙。“……有了，你们瞧！飞天扫帚！我们必须上去逮住那扇门的钥匙！”
　
　　“可是那上面有好几百把钥匙呢！”
　
　　罗恩仔细查看那扇门的锁眼。
　
　　“我们要找一把古色古香的大钥匙——可能是银色的，形状像个门把手。”
　
　　他们每人抓起一把扫帚，双脚一蹬，升到半空，冲进那一群密集的钥匙阵。他们拼命地又抓又捞，可是那些施了魔法的钥匙躲闪得太快了，简直不可能抓得住。
　
　　不过，哈利作为一个世纪以来最年轻的魁地奇找球手，并不是徒有虚名的。他在搜寻飞行目标方面有着过人的技巧。他在五彩缤纷的小翅膀的漩涡中穿行了一分钟，就注意到一把大大的银钥匙的翅膀耷拉着，就好像它曾经被人抓住、粗暴地塞进了钥匙孔里。
　
　　“就是它！”他对罗恩和赫敏喊道，“那把大钥匙——在那儿——不，不是这儿，是那儿——带着天蓝色翅膀的那个——羽毛全都倒向了一边。”
　
　　罗恩飞快地朝哈利所指的方向冲去，结果一头撞在天花板上，差点从飞天扫帚上掉下来。
　
　　“我们得把它包围起来！”哈利喊道，眼睛一直盯着那只翅膀被折断了的钥匙。“罗恩，你从上面堵住它——赫敏，你守在下面，别让它往下飞——我来把它抓住。好了，现在开始！”
　
　　罗恩向下俯冲，赫敏朝上一蹿，钥匙躲闪着避开了他俩的上下堵截，哈利紧紧跟在后面。钥匙迅疾地往墙上飞去，哈利向前一扑，随着一阵刺耳难听的嘎吱声，他用一只手把钥匙按在石墙上。罗恩和赫敏的欢呼声在高高的房间里回荡。
　
　　他们迅速降落，哈利向那扇门跑去，钥匙还在他手里挣扎着。他把它塞进锁眼，用力一拧——没错，就是它。咔哒一声，门锁刚一弹开，钥匙就又飞走了。它一连被抓住了两次，样子显得憔悴不堪。
　
　　“准备好了吗？”哈利用手握住门把手，向罗恩和赫敏问道。他们俩点了点头。于是，他把门推开了。
　
　　第二个房间里一片漆黑，什么也看不见。可是他们刚跨进去，屋里突然灯火通明，照亮了一幕令人震惊的景象。
　
　　他们站在一副巨大的棋盘边上，前面是黑色的棋子，那些棋子都比他们还要高，似乎是用黑石头之类的东西刻成的。在房间的那一头，与他们面对面的，是一些白色的棋子。哈利、罗恩和赫敏吓得浑身发抖——那些高耸的白棋子的脸上都没有五官。
　
　　“现在怎么办呢？”哈利小声说。
　
　　“这还不明显？”罗恩说，“我们必须下棋才能走到房间那头。”
　
　　他们看见白棋子后面有一扇门。
　
　　“怎么下法？”赫敏紧张地问。
　
　　“依我看，”罗恩说，“我们必须充当棋子。”
　
　　他走到一个黑骑士身旁，伸手摸了摸骑士的马。立刻，石头就活了过来，马用蹄子刨着地上的土，骑士转过戴着头盔的脑袋，望着罗恩。
　
　　“我们是不是——嗯——必须跟你们一起才能过去？”
　
　　黑骑士点了点头。
　
　　罗恩转身对哈利和赫敏说：“需要好好考虑一下……”他说，“恐怕我们必须取代这里的三个黑棋子……”
　
　　哈利和赫敏没有说话，看着罗恩在那里思索。最后罗恩说：“是这样，你们可别生气，怪我说话不客气，不过说实话，你们两个下棋都不怎么样——”
　
　　“我们没有生气，”哈利赶紧说道，“快告诉我们怎么做。”
　
　　“好吧，哈利，你就代替那个主教的位置；赫敏，你站在他旁边，代替那个城堡。”
　
　　“那么你呢？”
　
　　“我来做一个骑士。”罗恩说。
　
　　那些棋子似乎都在听他们说话，他话音刚落，一个骑士、一个主教和一个城堡就转了个身，背对着白棋子，走出了棋盘，留出了三个空位子，让给哈利、罗恩和赫敏。
　
　　“下棋的规矩是白棋先走。”罗恩说，朝棋盘对面望过去，“对了……你们看……”
　
　　一个白色的卒子向前移动了两格。
　
　　罗恩开始指挥黑棋作战。哈利和赫敏默默地听从他的调遣。哈利的膝盖在发抖。万一他们输了呢？
　
　　“哈利——往右前方移动四格。”
　
　　当他们的另一个骑士被吃掉时，他们才开始真正感到了恐惧。白王后凶狠地把那个骑士打翻在地板上，拖出了棋盘。他面朝下躺在那里，一动也不动。
　
　　“没办法，只好如此，”罗恩说，他看上去很震惊，“这样你才能去吃掉那个主教。赫敏，去吧。”
　
　　每次他们的棋子被吃掉时，白棋子都表现得心狠手辣，毫不留情。很快，墙边就横七竖八地倒了一大堆毫无生气的黑棋子。有两次，多亏罗恩及时发现哈利和赫敏处境危急，想办法替他们解了围。罗恩自己在棋盘上冲锋陷阵，吃掉的白棋子差不多和他们失去的黑棋子一样多。
　
　　“快要到了，”他突然低声说道，“让我想想——让我想想——”
　
　　白王后把她没有五官的脸转向他。
　
　　“是的……”罗恩低声说，“只有这个办法了……我必须被吃掉。”
　
　　“不行！”哈利和赫敏同时喊道。
　
　　“这是下棋！”罗恩厉声说，“总是需要做出一些牺牲的！我向前走一步，她就会把我吃掉——你就可以把国王将死了，哈利！”
　
　　“可是——”
　
　　“你到底想不想去阻止斯内普？”
　
　　“罗恩——”
　
　　“快点，如果再不抓紧时间，他就已经把魔法石拿到手了！”
　
　　哈利不再犹豫了。
　
　　“准备好了吗？”罗恩喊道，脸色苍白，但神情十分坚决。“我去了——注意，赢了以后立即行动，别在这里耽搁。”
　
　　他向前跨了一步，白王后立刻扑了过来。她举起石头手臂，朝罗恩的脑袋上重重打了一拳，罗恩一下子摔倒在地板上——赫敏失声尖叫，但并没有离开她的格子——白王后把罗恩拖到一边。看样子，罗恩好像被打昏了。
　
　　浑身颤抖的哈利向左边移动了三格。
　
　　白国王摘掉头上的王冠，扔在哈利脚下。他们赢了。白棋子纷纷鞠躬后退，让出路来，使他们能够顺利地走向那扇门。哈利和赫敏悲哀地回头看了罗恩最后一眼，便冲过门去，顺着下一条走廊往前走。
　
　　“他会不会——”
　
　　“他不会有事的。”哈利说，同时也在努力使自己相信这一点，“你认为接下来会是什么呢？”
　
　　“我们已经通过了斯普劳特的机关，就是那道魔鬼网——给那些钥匙施魔法的肯定是弗立维——麦格教授把棋子变形了，使它们活了起来——下面就剩下奇洛的魔法，还有斯内普的……”
　
　　他们又来到一扇门口。
　
　　“行吗？”哈利小声问。
　
　　“进去吧。”
　
　　哈利把门推开了。一股令人作呕的臭味扑鼻而来，他们只好撩起衣服挡住鼻子。两人的眼睛也被熏出了眼泪，他们透过模糊的泪眼，看见一个巨怪，比他们上次较量过的那个还要庞大，一动不动地躺在面前的地板上，失去了知觉，脑袋上有一个血淋淋的大肿块。
　
　　“太好了，我们用不着同这个巨怪搏斗了。”哈利低声说。他们小心翼翼地跨过巨怪粗壮的双腿。“快走吧，我气都喘不过来了。”
　
　　他拉开了下一道门，一时间，两人简直不敢看接下来是什么在等待他们——然而这里并没有什么可怕的东西，只有一张桌子，上面排放着七个形状各异的瓶子。
　
　　“斯内普的魔法，”哈利说，“我们应该怎么做？”
　
　　两人刚跨过门槛，身后就腾地升起一股火焰，封住了门口。这股火焰不同寻常，是紫色的。与此同时，通往前面的门口也蹿起了黑色的火苗。他们被困在了中间。
　
　　“看！”赫敏抓起放在瓶子旁边的一卷羊皮纸。哈利站在她背后，和她一起读道：
　
　　危险在眼前，安全在后方。我们中间有两个可以给你帮忙。把它们喝下去，一个领你向前，另一个把你送回原来的地方。两个里面装的是荨麻酒。三个是杀手，正排着队等候。选择吧，除非你希望永远在此耽搁。我们还提供四条线索帮你选择：第一，不论毒药怎样狡猾躲藏，其实它们都站在荨麻酒的左方；第二，左右两端的瓶里内容不同。如果你想前进，它们都不会对你有用；第三，你会发现瓶子大小各不相等。在巨人和侏儒里没有藏着死神；第四，左边第二和右边第二，虽然模样不同，味道却是一样。
　
　　赫敏长长地嘘了口气，哈利惊讶地看见她居然露出了笑容，他自己是无论如何笑不出来的。
　
　　“太妙了，”赫敏说，“这不是魔法——这是逻辑推理——是一个谜语。许多最伟大的巫师都没有丝毫逻辑推理的本领，他们只好永远被困在这里。”
　
　　“我们呢，我们也出不去了，是吗？”
　
　　“当然不会，”赫敏说，“我们所要知道的都写在这张纸上呢。七个瓶子：三个是毒药；两个是酒；一个能使我们安全穿过黑色火焰，另一个能送我们通过紫色火焰返回。”

　　“但我们怎么知道该喝哪一种呢？”
　
　“给我一分钟时间。”
　
　　赫敏把那张纸又读了几遍。她在那排瓶子前走来走去，嘴里自言自语，一边还指点着这个或那个瓶子。终于，她高兴地拍起手来。“知道了，”她说，“这只最小的瓶子能帮助我们穿过黑色火焰——拿到魔法石。”
　
　　哈利看着那只不起眼的小瓶子。
　
　　“里面只够一个人喝的了，”他说，“还不到一口呢。”
　
　　他们互相望着对方。
　
　　“哪个瓶子能使你穿过紫色火焰返回？”
　
　　赫敏指指最右边的一只圆溜溜的瓶子。
　
　　“你喝那一瓶。”哈利说，“你先别插嘴，听我说——你回去找到罗恩——从飞舞着钥匙的房间里抓两把扫帚，它们会载着你们穿越活板门，从路威身边通过——直接去到猫头鹰住的棚屋，派海德薇去给邓布利多送信，我们需要他来援救。我也许可以暂时牵制住斯内普，但我决不是他的对手。”
　
　　“可是哈利——如果神秘人和他在一起怎么办？”
　
　　“嗯——我以前侥幸逃脱过一次，记得吗？”哈利指着他额头上的伤疤说，“我说不定还能逢凶化吉的。”
　
　　赫敏的嘴唇颤抖着，她突然冲向哈利，伸出双臂搂住了他。
　
　　“赫敏！”
　
　　“哈利——你知道吗，你是个了不起的巫师。”
　
　　“我不如你出色。”哈利非常难为情地说，赫敏松开了他。
　
　　“我！”赫敏说，“不过是死读书，再靠一点儿小聪明！除此之外，还有许多更重要的东西呢——友谊和勇气——哦，哈利——可要小心啊！”
　
　　“你先喝，”哈利说，“你能肯定是这两个瓶子吗，不会弄错吧？”
　
　　“绝对不会。”赫敏说。她从右边那个圆瓶子里喝了一大口，浑身打了个激灵。
　
　　“不是毒药吧？”哈利担心地问。
　
　　“不是——但是像冰一样，寒冷刺骨。”
　
　　“快点儿，走吧，过一会儿它就失效了。”
　
　　“祝你好运——千万小心——”
　
　　“快走！”
　
　　赫敏转过身，径直穿过了紫色火焰。
　
　　哈利深深吸了口气，抓起那只最小的瓶子。他转身面对着黑色的火苗。
　
　　“我来了。”他说完，一口喝光了小瓶子里的液体。
　
　　它确实像冰一样，一下子渗透到他的全身。他放下瓶子，向前走去。他鼓起勇气，看见黑色的火苗舔着他的身体，但是他毫无感觉——在那一刹那间，他什么也看不见，眼前只有黑色的火焰——接着，他就顺利地来到另一边，进入了最后一个房间。
　
　　那里面已经有一个人了——不是斯内普，甚至也不是伏地魔。

　

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岁月有着不动声色的力量

举报只看该作者 12楼发表于: 2013-10-23 0

　　CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
　　THE MAN WITH TWO FACES
　　It was Quirrell.
　　"You!" gasped Harry.
　　Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all.
　　"Me," he said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter."
　　"But I thought -- Snape --"
　　"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, either, but cold and sharp. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"
　　Harry couldn't take it in. This couldn't be true, it couldn't.
　　"But Snape tried to kill me!"
　　"No, no, no. I tried to kill you. Your friend Miss Granger accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. She broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I'd have got you off that broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn't been muttering a countercurse, trying to save you."
　　"Snape was trying to save me?"
　　"Of course," said Quirrell coolly. "Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny, really... he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he did make himself unpopular... and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you tonight."
　　Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry.
　　"You're too nosy to live, Potter. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."
　　"You let the troll in?"
　　"Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls -- you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off -- and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly.
　　"Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror.
　　It was only then that Harry realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised.
　　"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this... but he's in London... I'll be far away by the time he gets back...."
　　All Harry could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror.
　　"I saw you and Snape in the forest --" he blurted out.
　　"Yes," said Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me - as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side...."
　　Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it.
　　"I see the Stone... I'm presenting it to my master... but where is it?"
　　Harry struggled against the ropes binding him, but they didn't give. He had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror.
　　"But Snape always seemed to hate me so much."
　　"Oh, he does," said Quirrell casually, "heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted you dead."
　　"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing -- I thought Snape was threatening you...."
　　For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face.
　　"Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions -- he is a great wizard and I am weak --"
　　"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harry gasped.
　　"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it.... Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me." Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me... decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me...."
　　Quirrell's voice trailed away. Harry was remembering his trip to Diagon Alley -how could he have been so stupid? He'd seen Quirrell there that very day, shaken hands with him in the Leaky Cauldron.
　　Quirrell cursed under his breath.
　　"I don't understand... is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"
　　Harry's mind was racing.
　　What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment, he thought, is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. So if I look in the mirror, I should see myseff finding it -- which means I'll see where it's hidden! But how can I look without Quirrell realizing what I'm up to?
　　He tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around his ankles were too tight: he tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored him. He was still talking to himself. "What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"
　　And to Harry's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself
　　"Use the boy... Use the boy..."
　　Quirrell rounded on Harry.
　　"Yes -- Potter -- come here."
　　He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry got slowly to his feet.
　　"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."
　　Harry walked toward him.
　　I must lie, he thought desperately. I must look and lie about what I see, that's all.
　　Quirrell moved close behind him. Harry breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in front of the mirror, and opened them again.
　　He saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket -- and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket. Somehow -- incredibly -- he'd gotten the Stone.
　　"Well?" said Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?"
　　Harry screwed up his courage.
　　"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," he invented. "I -- I've won the house cup for Gryffindor."
　　 Quirrell cursed again.
　　"Get out of the way," he said. As Harry moved aside, he felt the Sorcerer's Stone against his leg. Dare he make a break for it?
　　But he hadn't walked five paces before a high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn't moving his lips.
　　"He lies... He lies..."
　　"Potter, come back here!" Quirrell shouted. "Tell me the truth! What did you just see?"
　　The high voice spoke again.
　　"Let me speak to him... face-to-face..."
　　"Master, you are not strong enough!"
　　"I have strength enough... for this...."
　　Harry felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting him to the spot. He couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, he watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot.
　　Harry would have screamed, but he couldn't make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.
　　"Harry Potter..." it whispered.
　　Harry tried to take a step backward but his legs wouldn't move.
　　"See what I have become?" the face said. "Mere shadow and vapor ... I have form only when I can share another's body... but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds.... Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks... you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest... and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own.... Now... why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"
　　So he knew. The feeling suddenly surged back into Harry's legs. He stumbled backward.
　　"Don't be a fool," snarled the face. "Better save your own life and join me... or you'll meet the same end as your parents.... They died begging me for mercy..."
　　"LIAR!" Harry shouted suddenly.
　　Quirrell was walking backward at him, so that Voldemort could still see him. The evil face was now smiling.
　　"How touching..." it hissed. "I always value bravery... Yes, boy, your parents were brave.... I killed your father first; and he put up a courageous fight... but your mother needn't have died... she was trying to protect you.... Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain."
　　"NEVER!"
　　Harry sprang toward the flame door, but Voldemort screamed "SEIZE HIM!" and the next second, Harry felt Quirrell's hand close on his wrist. At once, a needle-sharp pain seared across Harry's scar; his head felt as though it was about to split in two; he yelled, struggling with all his might, and to his surprise, Quirrell let go of him. The pain in his head lessened -- he looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone, and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers -- they were blistering before his eyes.
　　"Seize him! SEIZE HIM!" shrieked Voldemort again, and Quirrell lunged, knocking Harry clean off his feet' landing on top of him, both hands around Harry's neck -- Harry's scar was almost blinding him with pain, yet he could see Quirrell howling in agony.
　　"Master, I cannot hold him -- my hands -- my hands!"
　　And Quirrell, though pinning Harry to the ground with his knees, let go of his neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms -- Harry could see they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny.
　　"Then kill him, fool, and be done!" screeched Voldemort.
　　Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Harry, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face --
　　"AAAARGH!"
　　Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering, too, and then Harry knew: Quirrell couldn't touch his bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain -- his only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from doing a curse.
　　Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off -- the pain in Harry's head was building -- he couldn't see -- he could only hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of, "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" and other voices, maybe in Harry's own head, crying, "Harry! Harry!"
　　He felt Quirrell's arm wrenched from his grasp, knew all was lost, and fell into blackness, down ... down... down...
　　Something gold was glinting just above him. The Snitch! He tried to catch it, but his arms were too heavy.
　　He blinked. It wasn't the Snitch at all. It was a pair of glasses. How strange.
　　He blinked again. The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view above him.
　　"Good afternoon, Harry," said Dumbledore. Harry stared at him. Then he remembered: "Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! He's got the Stone! Sir, quick --"
　　"Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore. "Quirrell does not have the Stone."
　　"Then who does? Sir, I --"
　　"Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out.
　　Harry swallowed and looked around him. He realized he must be in the hospital wing. He was lying in a bed with white linen sheets, and next to him was a table piled high with what looked like half the candy shop.
　　"Tokens from your friends and admirers," said Dumbledore, beaming. "What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."
　　"How long have I been in here?"
　　"Three days. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried."
　　"But sit, the Stone
　　I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to prevent that, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say.
　　"You got there? You got Hermione's owl?"
　　"We must have crossed in midair. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you."
　　"It was you."
　　"I feared I might be too late."
　　"You nearly were, I couldn't have kept him off the Stone much longer --"
　　"Not the Stone, boy, you -- the effort involved nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."
　　"Destroyed?" said Harry blankly. "But your friend -- Nicolas Flamel --"
　　"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" said Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted. "You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best."
　　"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"
　　"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die."
　　Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement on Harry's face.
　　"To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all -- the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them." Harry lay there, lost for words. Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling.
　　"Sir?" said Harry. "I've been thinking... sir -- even if the Stone's gone, Vol-, I mean, You-Know- Who --"
　　"Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."
　　"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"
　　"No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share... not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time -- and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."
　　Harry nodded, but stopped quickly, because it made his head hurt. Then he said, "Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me... things I want to know the truth about...."
　　"The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."
　　"Well... Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?"
　　Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time.
　　"Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day... put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are older... I know you hate to hear this... when you are ready, you will know."
　　And Harry knew it would be no good to argue.
　　"But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"
　　"Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign... to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."
　　Dumbledore now became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, which gave Harry time to dry his eyes on the sheet. When he had found his voice again, Harry said, "And the invisibility cloak - do you know who sent it to me?"
　　"Ah - your father happened to leave it in my possession, and I thought you might like it." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Useful things... your father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here."
　　"And there's something else..."
　　"Fire away."
　　"Quirrell said Snape --"
　　"Professor Snape, Harry." "Yes, him -- Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?"
　　"Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and Mr. Malfoy. And then, your father did something Snape could never forgive."
　　"What?"
　　"He saved his life."
　　"What?"
　　"Yes..." said Dumbledore dreamily. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your father's debt.... I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father's memory in peace...."
　　Harry tried to understand this but it made his head pound, so he stopped.
　　"And sir, there's one more thing..."
　　"Just the one?"
　　"How did I get the Stone out of the mirror?"
　　"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone -- find it, but not use it -- would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes.... Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomitflavored one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them -- but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?"
　　He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, "Alas! Ear wax!"
　　Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was a nice woman, but very strict.
　　"Just five minutes," Harry pleaded.
　　"Absolutely not."
　　"You let Professor Dumbledore in..."
　　"Well, of course, that was the headmaster, quite different. You need rest."
　　"I am resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey..."
　　"Oh, very well," she said. "But five minutes only."
　　And she let Ron and Hermione in.
　　"Harry!"
　　Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around him again, but Harry was glad she held herself in as his head was still very sore.
　　"Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to -- Dumbledore was so worried --"
　　"The whole school's talking about it," said Ron. "What really happened?"
　　It was one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more strange and exciting than the wild rumors. Harry told them everything: Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. Ron and Hermione were a very good audience; they gasped in all the right places, and when Harry told them what was under Quirrell's turban, Hermione screamed out loud.
　　"So the Stone's gone?" said Ron finally. "Flamel's just going to die?"
　　"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that -- what was it? -- 'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.
　　"I always said he was off his rocker," said Ron, looking quite impressed at how crazy his hero was.
　　"So what happened to you two?" said Harry.
　　"Well, I got back all right," said Hermione. "I brought Ron round -- that took a while -- and we were dashing up to the owlery to contact Dumbledore when we met him in the entrance hall -- he already knew -- he just said, 'Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?' and hurtled off to the third floor."
　　"D'you think he meant you to do it?" said Ron. "Sending you your father's cloak and everything?"
　　"Well, " Hermione exploded, "if he did -- I mean to say that's terrible -- you could have been killed."
　　"No, it isn't," said Harry thoughtfully. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could...."
　　"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," said Ron proudly. "Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course -- you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you -- but the food'll be good."
　　At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over.
　　"You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT" she said firmly.
　　After a good night's sleep, Harry felt nearly back to normal.
　　I want to go to the feast," he told Madam Pomfrey as she straightened his many candy boxes. I can, can't I?"
　　"Professor Dumbledore says you are to be allowed to go," she said stiffily, as though in her opinion Professor Dumbledore didn't realize how risky feasts could be. "And you have another visitor."
　　"Oh, good," said Harry. "Who is it?"
　　Hagrid sidled through the door as he spoke. As usual when he was indoors, Hagrid looked too big to be allowed. He sat down next to Harry, took one look at him, and burst into tears.
　　"It's -- all -- my -- ruddy -- fault!" he sobbed, his face in his hands. I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only thing he didn't know, an' I told him! Yeh could've died! All fer a dragon egg! I'll never drink again! I should be chucked out an' made ter live as a Muggle!"
　　"Hagrid!" said Harry, shocked to see Hagrid shaking with grief and remorse, great tears leaking down into his beard. "Hagrid, he'd have found out somehow, this is Voldemort we're talking about, he'd have found out even if you hadn't told him."
　　"Yeh could've died!" sobbed Hagrid. "An' don' say the name!"
　　"VOLDEMORT!" Harry bellowed, and Hagrid was so shocked, he stopped crying. "I've met him and I'm calling him by his name. Please cheer up, Hagrid, we saved the Stone, it's gone, he can't use it. Have a Chocolate Frog, I've got loads...."
　　Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, "That reminds me. I've got yeh a present."
　　"It's not a stoat sandwich, is it?" said Harry anxiously, and at last Hagrid gave a weak chuckle. "Nah. Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it. 'Course, he shoulda sacked me instead -- anyway, got yeh this..."
　　It seemed to be a handsome, leather-covered book. Harry opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from every page were his mother and father.
　　"Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos... knew yeh didn' have any... d'yeh like it?"
　　Harry couldn't speak, but Hagrid understood.
　　Harry made his way down to the end-of-year feast alone that night. He had been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing about, insisting on giving him one last checkup, so the Great Hall was already full. It was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.
　　When Harry walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once. He slipped into a seat between Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table and tried to ignore the fact that people were standing up to look at him.
　　Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away.
　　"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts....
　　"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy- two."
　　A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Harry could see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight.
　　"Yes, Yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."
　　The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little.
　　"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes...
　　"First -- to Mr. Ronald Weasley..."
　　Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn.
　　"...for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."
　　Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"
　　At last there was silence again.
　　"Second -- to Miss Hermione Granger... for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."
　　Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harry strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves -- they were a hundred points up. "Third -- to Mr. Harry Potter..." said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."
　　The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points -- exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the house cup -- if only Dumbledore had given Harry just one more point.
　　Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.
　　"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."
　　Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him.
　　"Which means, Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."
　　He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile. He caught Harry's eye and Harry knew at once that Snape's feelings toward him hadn't changed one jot. This didn't worry Harry. It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts.
　　It was the best evening of Harry's life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls... he would never, ever forget tonight.
　　Harry had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. To their great surprise, both he and Ron passed with good marks; Hermione, of course, had the best grades of the first years. Even Neville scraped through, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions one. They had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, might be thrown out, but he had passed, too. It was a shame, but as Ron said, you couldn't have everything in life.
　　And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, Neville's toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays ("I always hope they'll forget to give us these," said Fred Weasley sadly); Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as they sped past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station.
　　It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform. A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and threes so they didn't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.
　　"You must come and stay this summer," said Ron, "both of you -- I'll send you an owl."
　　"Thanks," said Harry, "I'll need something to look forward to." People jostled them as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:
　　"Bye, Harry!"
　　"See you, Potter!"
　　"Still famous," said Ron, grinning at him.
　　"Not where I'm going, I promise you," said Harry.
　　He, Ron, and Hermione passed through the gateway together. "There he is, Mom, there he is, look!"
　　It was Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, but she wasn't pointing at Ron.
　　"Harry Potter!" she squealed. "Look, Mom! I can see
　　"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point."
　　Mrs. Weasley smiled down at them.
　　"Busy year?" she said.
　　"Very," said Harry. "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley."
　　"Oh, it was nothing, dear."
　　"Ready, are you?"
　　It was Uncle Vernon, still purple-faced, still mustached, still looking furious at the nerve of Harry, carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of Harry.
　　"You must be Harry's family!" said Mrs. Weasley.
　　"In a manner of speaking," said Uncle Vernon. "Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day." He walked away.
　　Harry hung back for a last word with Ron and Hermione.
　　"See you over the summer, then."
　　"Hope you have -- er -- a good holiday," said Hermione, looking uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant.
　　"Oh, I will," said Harry, and they were surprised at the grin that was spreading over his face. "They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer...."
　　THE END

第十七章　双面人
　
　

　
　　是奇洛。
　
　　“你！”哈利惊愕得喘不过气来。
　
　　奇洛笑了，现在他的脸一点也不抽搐了。“是我，”他冷静地说，“我刚才还在想，我会不会在这儿遇见你，波特。”
　
　　“可是我以为——斯内普——”
　
　　“斯内普？”奇洛大笑起来。这笑声也不是他平常那种尖厉刺耳的颤音，而是一种令人胆寒的冷笑。“是啊，斯内普看上去确实不像个好人，是吗？他像一只巨型的大蝙蝠到处乱飞，对我们倒是很有帮助。有他在那里放着，谁还会怀疑可——可——可怜的，结——结——结结巴巴的奇洛教——教授呢？”
　
　　哈利无法相信这一切。这不可能是真的，不可能。
　
　　“可是斯内普曾经想害死我！”
　
　　“不，不，不，想害死你的是我。那次魁地奇比赛的时候，你的朋友格兰杰小姐冲过来给斯内普施咒，无意中把我撞倒了。她破坏了我对你的凝视，其实只要再坚持几秒钟，我就把你从飞天扫帚上摔下去了。如果不是斯内普一直在旁边念一个反咒，想保住你的性命，我早就把你摔死了。”
　
　　“斯内普想要救我？”
　
　　“当然是这样，”奇洛冷冷地说，“你说他为什么要给你们的第二次比赛当裁判？他要确保我不再害你。真是可笑……其实他犯不着费这番心思。有邓布利多在场，我什么也做不成的。其他老师都以为斯内普想阻止格兰芬多队获胜，他确实弄得自己很不受人欢迎……不过，这一切都是浪费时间，不管怎么说，我今晚一定要把你干掉。”
　
　　奇洛啪地打了个响指。说时迟那时快，只见凭空蹿过来几条绳索，把哈利捆了个结结实实。
　
　　“你太爱管闲事了，不能让你再活在世上，波特。万圣节前夜，你在学校里到处乱转，我当时就知道，你看见我去查看魔法石的机关了。”
　
　　“是你放那个巨怪进来的？”
　
　　“当然是这样。我对付巨怪有一套特别的办法——你肯定已经看见了，我是怎么教训那边房间里的那个家伙的吧？倒霉的是，当大家都匆匆忙忙到处寻找巨怪时，早已对我起了疑心的斯内普直接赶到四楼，试图阻拦我——不仅我的巨怪没有把你打死，甚至那条三个头的大狗也没有把斯内普的腿咬断。
　
　　“好了，静静地等着吧，波特。我需要仔细看看这面有趣的镜子。”
　
　　直到这时，哈利才发现奇洛身后立着的东西。正是厄里斯魔镜。
　
　　“这面镜子是找到魔法石的钥匙，”奇洛喃喃地说，用手沿着四周的镜框敲了一遍。“只有邓布利多才拿得出这样的东西……不过他此刻在伦敦呢……等他回来的时候，我早就远走高飞了……”
　
　　哈利能想到的惟一办法就是让奇洛不停地说话，不让他把注意力集中到魔镜上。“我看见你和斯内普在禁林里——”他冒冒失失地说。
　
　　“没错，”奇洛懒洋洋地说，一边转到魔镜后面去查看，“他那时候已经盯上我了，想要知道我究竟进行到了什么地步。他一直在怀疑我。他想吓唬我——其实他哪里吓得住我，有伏地魔做我的靠山呢……”
　
　　奇洛从魔镜后面转回来，贪婪地盯着镜子里面。
　
　　“我看见魔法石了……我正在把它献给我的主人……可是它藏在哪儿呢？”
　
　　哈利拼命想挣脱束缚他的那些绳索，却被越缠越紧。他必须阻止奇洛把全部注意力都集中到魔镜上。
　
　　“可是斯内普总是显得那么恨我。”
　
　　“哦，他确实恨你，”奇洛漫不经心地说，“天哪，他当然恨你。当年他和你父亲一起在霍格沃茨念书，这你不知道吧？他们俩互相仇恨，不共戴天。不过他可从来不希望你死掉。”
　
　　“可是几天前我听见你在哭——我以为斯内普在威胁你……”
　
　　奇洛的脸上第一次闪过一丝恐惧的震颤。“有的时候，”他说，“我觉得很难遵从我主人的指令——他是个伟大的巫师，而我的力量这样微弱——”
　
　　“难道你是说，当时和你一起在教室里的是他？”哈利吃惊地问。
　
　　“不论我走到哪里，他都跟我在一起，”奇洛平静地说道，“我是在环游世界时遇到他的。我当时还是一个傻乎乎的小伙子，对善恶是非有着一套荒唐的想法。是伏地魔指出了我的错误。世界上没有什么善恶是非，只有权力，还有那些无法获取权势的无能之辈……从那以后，我就忠心耿耿地为他效劳，不过我也有许多次令他失望过。他对我一直非常严厉。”奇洛突然颤抖了一下。“他从不轻易原谅我的错误。当我没能把魔法石从古灵阁偷出来时，他非常不高兴。他惩罚了我……并决定从此更加密切地监视我。”
　
　　奇洛的声音渐渐低得听不见了。哈利想起了他那次到对角巷去的情景——当时他怎么就没想到呢？他那天明明看见了奇洛，还跟他在破釜酒吧里握过手呢。
　
　　奇洛压低了声音咒骂着。
　
　　“我真不明白……难道魔法石藏在镜子里面？我是不是应该把镜子打破？”哈利脑子里飞快地转动着。“此时此刻我心里最大的愿望，”他想，“就是赶在奇洛之前我到魔法石。所以，如果我对着魔镜照一照，就应该看见自己找到了那块石头——这就意味着我能看到石头藏在哪里！可是，我怎样才能在不被奇洛发现的情况下，过去照一照魔镜呢？”
　
　　他试着悄悄向左边移动，想趁奇洛不注意挪到镜子前面。可是，缠住他脚踝的绳索实在太紧了，他绊了一下，摔倒在地。奇洛没有理睬他，还在那里自言自语：“这面镜子是怎么回事？它究竟有什么功能？帮帮我吧，主人！”
　
　　哈利惊恐地听见一个声音在回答，那声音好像就是从奇洛本人身体里发出来的。“利用那个男孩……利用那个男孩……”
　
　　奇洛转向哈利。“好吧——波特——上这儿来。”
　
　　他又把双手一拍，那些捆绑哈利的绳索就自动松开了。哈利慢慢地站起来。
　
　　“来这儿，”奇洛又说了一遍，“照一照镜子，把你看到的情形告诉我。”
　
　　哈利朝他走去。
　
　　“我必须对他撒谎，”他不顾一切地想，“我必须先照照镜子，然后编出一套谎话来骗他，就这么做。”
　
　　奇洛凑到他的身后。哈利闻到一股奇怪的气味，似乎是从奇洛头上的围巾里发出来的。他闭上眼睛，站到魔镜前面，随即把眼睛睁开了。
　
　　他看见了镜子里的自己，一开始脸色苍白，神情惶恐，可是片刻之后，便露出了笑容。镜子里的哈利把手伸进口袋，掏出一块鲜红的石头，然后眨眨眼睛，又把石头放进了口袋——就在这时，哈利觉得有一件重重的东西真的落进了自己的口袋。真是不可思议——他居然就这样得到了魔法石。
　
　　“怎么样？”奇洛不耐烦地问，“你看到了什么？”
　
　　哈利鼓起勇气。
　
　　“我看见自己在跟邓布利多握手，”他胡乱编造地说，“我——我为格兰芬多赢得了学院杯冠军。”
　
　　奇洛又开始骂骂咧咧。
　
　　“你给我走开。”他说。
　
　　哈利退到一边时，感觉到魔法石就贴在他的大腿上。他敢不敢现在就带着它逃走？但他刚走了不到五步，就听见一个尖厉的嗓音说话了，而奇洛的嘴唇根本没有动。
　
　　“他在说谎……他在说谎……”
　
　　“波特，到这儿来！”奇洛喊道，“把实话告诉我！你刚才看见了什么？”
　
　　那个尖厉的嗓音又说话了。
　
　　“让我来跟他谈……面对面地谈……”
　
　　“主人，你的体力还没有恢复啊！”
　
　　“这点力气……我还是有的……”
　
　　哈利觉得自己仿佛被魔鬼网牢牢缠住了，浑身上下丝毫也动弹不得。他呆呆地站在那里，看着奇洛举起手解下他头上的围巾。这是怎么回事？大围巾落了下来，奇洛裸露的脑袋看上去小得出奇。然后，他慢慢地原地转过身去。
　
　　哈利想放声尖叫，但发不出一点儿声音。在原本该是奇洛后脑勺的地方，长着一张脸，哈利还从来没有看见过这样狰狞恐怖的脸。那张脸的颜色像粉笔一样死白，红通通的眼睛放出光来，下面是两道像蛇一般细长的鼻孔。
　
　　“哈利波特……”他耳语般地说。

　　哈利想往后退，可是他的双腿不听使唤。
　
　　“你看看我变成了什么样子！”那张脸说，“只剩下了影子和蒸气……我只有和别人共用一具躯体时，才能拥有形体……不过总有一些人愿意让我进入他们的心灵和头脑……在过去的几个星期里，独角兽的盘使我恢复了一些体力……那天你在森林里看见奇洛为我饮血……一旦我弄到了长生不老药，我就能够重新创造一个我自己的身体……好了……你为什么不把你口袋里的魔法石交给我呢？”
　
　　原来他知道！哈利的腿突然又有了知觉。他踉跄着后退。
　
　　“别犯傻了，”那张脸恶狠狠地说道，“最好保住你自己的小命，投靠我吧
……不然你就会和你父母的下场一样……他们临死前苦苦地哀求我饶命……”
　
　　“撒谎！”哈利猛地喊道。
　
　　奇洛后退着朝他逼近，这使伏地魔仍然能盯着他。现在那张邪恶的脸上露出了狞笑。
　
　　“多么感人啊……”他用嘶哑的声音说，“我一向都很敬佩勇气……是的，孩子，你父母当年都很勇敢……我先动手杀你的父亲，他倒是宁死不屈，勇敢地跟我搏斗……你母亲其实不用死的……她拼着命要保护你……好了，把魔法石给我吧，别让你母亲白白为你丧命。”
　
　　“休想！”
　
　　哈利猛地冲向那扇燃着黑色火焰的门，伏地魔尖叫起来：“抓住他！”紧接着，哈利就感到奇洛用手紧紧抓住了他的手腕。顿时，哈利额头上的伤疤钻心地疼痛起来；他觉得自己的脑袋仿佛要裂成两半；他大声喊叫，拼命挣扎；随后，他吃惊地发现奇洛松开了手，他额头的疼痛也减轻了——哈利茫然地四顾，寻找奇洛，只见他痛苦地弓着身子，看着自己的手指——他眼睁睁地看见它们一个个地冒起了水泡。
　
　　“抓住他！快抓住他！”伏地魔又尖叫起来。奇洛向前一扑，把哈利撞翻在地，骑在他身上，用双手掐住哈利的脖子——哈利的伤疤又是一阵剧痛，他眼前发黑，但他还是看见奇洛在痛苦地嚎叫。
　
　　“主人，我抓不住他——我的手——我的手！”
　
　　奇洛虽然仍用膝盖把哈利压在地上，但他的手已经松开了哈利的脖子，此刻他正困惑地盯着自己的手掌——哈利可以看见它们像是被火烧伤了似的，红得发亮。
　
　　“那就把他干掉，傻瓜，快点行动！”伏地魔用刺耳的声音说。
　
　　奇洛举起手，准备念一个死咒，可是哈利出于本能，猛地抬手抓向奇洛的脸
——“啊！啊！啊——！”
　
　　奇洛从哈利身上滚了下去，他的脸上也冒起了水泡。这时哈利突然明白了：只要一碰到奇洛裸露在外的皮肤，他就会感到剧痛难忍——哈利要逃生，惟一的希望就是死死抓住奇洛，让奇洛痛得无法对自己念咒。
　
　　哈利跳起来，一把抓住奇洛的手臂，死也不肯撒手。奇洛惨叫着，拼命想把哈利甩掉——哈利的头痛也越来越剧烈——他眼前发黑——只能听见奇洛可怖的尖叫和伏地魔恶狠狠的咆哮：“杀死他！杀死他！”另外还有一些声音在喊着：“哈利！哈利！”不过这也许是他脑海里的幻觉。
　
　　他感到奇洛的手臂挣脱了他，他知道一切都完了，接着他就沉入一片黑暗，向下坠落……坠落……坠落……一个金色的东西在他头顶上闪烁。是飞贼！他想把它抓住，但胳膊沉重得抬不起来。他眨了眨眼睛，原来那根本不是飞贼，而是一副眼镜。多么奇怪。他又使劲眨了眨眼睛，面前渐渐浮现出阿不思邓布利多笑眯眯的脸。
　
　　“下午好，哈利。”邓布利多说。
　
　　哈利先是呆呆地盯着他，然后突然想起来了。“先生！魔法石！是奇洛！他得到了魔法石！先生，快——”
　
　　“不要激动，亲爱的孩子，你说的这些话已经有点过时了，”邓布利多说，“奇洛没有拿到魔法石。”
　
　　“那么谁拿到了？先生，我——”
　
　　“哈利，请你镇静一些，不然庞弗雷夫人就要把我赶出去了。”
　
　　哈利咽了口唾沫，环顾四周。他意识到自己是在医院里。他躺在一张铺着洁白亚麻被单的病床上，旁边的桌子上堆得像座小山，似乎半个糖果店都被搬到这里来了。
　
　　“都是你的朋友和崇拜者送给你的礼物。”邓布利多笑吟吟地说，“你和奇洛教授在地牢里发生的一切，是一个完完全全的秘密，而秘密总是不胫而走，所以，全校师生自然是全都知道了。据我所知，你的朋友弗雷德和乔治韦斯莱本来还送给你一只马桶圈。他们无疑是想跟你逗个乐子，可是庞弗雷夫人觉得不太卫生，就把它没收了。”
　
　　“我在这里住多久了？”
　
　　“三天。罗恩韦斯莱先生和格兰杰小姐若是知道你醒过来了，一定会觉得松了口气。他们一直担心极了。”
　
　　“可是先生，魔法石——”
　
　　“看来没法子分散你的注意力。好吧，咱们就谈谈魔法石。奇洛教授没有能够把它从你手里夺走，我及时赶到阻止了他。不过我必须说一句，你其实一个人就对付得很好。”
　
　　“您赶到那儿了？您收到赫敏派猫头鹰送给您的信了？”
　
　　“我和猫头鹰显然是在空中错过了。我一到达伦敦，就发现我应该回到我刚刚离开的地方。我赶来的恰是时候，正好把奇洛从你身上拉开——”
　
　　“原来是您。”
　
　　“我还担心已经太晚了。”
　
　　“差一点儿就来不及了，我已经支撑不了多久，魔法石很快就要被他抢去了
——”
　
　　“不是魔法石，孩子，我指的是你——你为了保卫魔法石差点儿丢了性命。在那可怕的一瞬间，我吓坏了，以为你真的死了。至于魔法石嘛，它已经被毁掉了。”
　
　　“毁掉了？”哈利不解地问，“可是您的朋友——尼可勒梅——”
　
　　“哦，你居然还知道尼可？”邓布利多问道，语气显得很高兴，“你把这件事搞得很清楚，是吗？是这样的，尼可和我谈了谈，我们一致认为这是最好的办法。”
　
　　“可是，那样一来，他和他妻子就要死了，是吗？”
　
　　“他们存了一些长生不老药，足够让他们把事情料理妥当。然后，是啊，他们会死。”
　
　　看到哈利脸上惊愕的表情，邓布利多不禁露出了笑容。
　
　　“我知道，对像你这样年纪轻轻的人来说，这似乎有些不可思议；但是对尼可和佩雷纳尔来说，死亡实际上就像是经过漫长的一天之后，终于上床休息了。而且，对于头脑十分清醒的人来说，死亡不过是另一场伟大的冒险。你知道，魔法石其实并不是多么美妙的东西。有了它，不论你想拥有多少财富、获得多长寿命，都可以如愿以偿！这两样东西是人类最想要的——问题是，人类偏偏就喜欢选择对他们最没有好处的东西。”
　
　　哈利躺在那里，一时间不知道说什么好。邓布利多愉快地哼着小曲，笑眯眯地看着天花板。
　
　　“先生，”哈利说道，“我一直在想……先生——尽管魔法石不在了，伏地
……我是说，神秘人——”
　
　“就叫他伏地魔，哈利。对事物永远使用正确的称呼。对一个名称的恐惧，会强化对这个事物本身的恐惧。”
　
　　“是，先生。是这样，伏地魔还会企图用别的办法东山再起的，是吗？我的意思是，他并没有消失，对吗？”
　
　　“对，哈利，他没有消失。他仍然躲在什么地方，也许正在物色一个愿意让他分享的躯体……他不算是真正地活着，所以也就不可能被杀死。他当时只顾自己溜走，完全不顾奇洛的死活；他对敌人心狠手辣，对自己的追随者也是一样冷酷无情。不过，哈利，你也许只是耽搁了他，使他不能马上恢复力量，将来还需要另外一个人做好充分准备，和他决一死战——但如果他一而再、再而三地被耽搁，他也许就再也无法恢复力量了。”
　
　　哈利点点头，但很快就停住了，因为这使他感到头痛。然后他说：“先生，还有一些事情我不太明白，不知道您能不能告诉我……我想了解这些事情的真相
……”
　
　　“真相，”邓布利多叹息着说，“这是一种美丽而可怕的东西，需要格外谨慎地对待。不过，我会尽量回答你的问题，除非我有充分的理由守口如瓶，那样的话，我希望你能原谅我。我当然不能说谎话骗你。”
　
　　“是这样……伏地魔说他当年杀死我母亲，是因为我母亲拼命地阻止他杀死我。可是，话说回来，他为什么想要杀死我呢？”
　
　　邓布利多这次重重地叹了口气。
　
　　“哎呀，你问我的第一件事，我就不能够告诉你。今天不能，现在不能。总有一天，你会知道的……暂时先别想这件事吧，哈利。等你再长大一些……我知道你不愿意听这个话……等你做好了准备，你自然就会知道了。”
　
　　哈利明白再多说也没有用。
　
　　“那么，为什么奇洛不能碰我？”
　
　　“你母亲是为了救你而死的。如果伏地魔有什么事弄不明白，那就是爱。他没有意识到，像你母亲对你那样强烈的爱，是会在你身上留下自己的印记的。不是伤疤，不是看得见的痕迹……被一个人这样深深地爱过，尽管那个爱我们的人已经死了，也会给我们留下一个永远的护身符。它就藏在你的皮肤里。正是由于这个原因，奇洛不能碰你。奇洛内心充满仇恨、贪婪和野心，把灵魂出卖给了伏地魔，他碰了一个身上标有这么美好印记的人，是会感到痛苦难忍的。”
　
　　说到这里，邓布利多假装对窗外的一只小鸟发生了浓厚的兴趣，哈利便趁这个时间用床单把眼泪擦干。当声音重又恢复正常时，哈利说道：“还有那件隐形衣——您知道是淮送给我的吗？”
　
　　“呵——你父亲碰巧把它留给了我，而我认为你大概会喜欢它。”邓布利多眼睛里闪着狡黠的光芒。“很有用的东西……当年，你父亲在这里上学的时候，主要是靠它溜进厨房偷东西吃。”
　
　　“还有另外一件事……”
　
　　“尽管问吧。”
　
　　“奇洛说斯内普他——”
　
　　“是斯内普教授，哈利。”
　
　　“是的，是他——奇洛说，斯内普教授恨我是因为他当年恨我父亲。这是真的吗？”
　
　　“是这样，他们确实互相看着不顺眼。很有点像你和马尔福先生。后来，你父亲做了一件斯内普永远无法原谅他的事。”
　
　　“什么事？”
　
　　“他救了斯内普的命。”
　
　　“什么？”
　
　　“是的……”邓布利多幽幽地说，“人的思想确实非常奇妙，是吗？斯内普教授无法忍受这样欠着你父亲的人情……我相信，他这一年之所以想方设法地保护你，是因为他觉得这样就能使他和你父亲扯平，谁也不欠谁的。然后他就可以心安理得地重温对你父亲的仇恨……”
　
　　哈利努力思索着这段话，但这使他的头又剧烈地疼痛起来，他只好不往下想了。
　
　　“对了，先生，还有最后一个问题……”
　
　　“是最后一个吗？”
　
　　“我是怎么把魔法石从魔镜里拿出来的？”
　
　　“啊，我很高兴你终于问我这件事了。这是我的锦囊妙计之一，牵涉到你和我之间的默契，这是很了不起的。你知道吗，只有那个希望找到魔法石——找到它，但不利用它——的人，才能够得到它；其他的人呢，就只能在镜子里看到他们在捞金子发财，或者喝长生不老药延长生命。我的脑瓜真是好使，有时候我自己也感到吃惊呢……好了，问题问得够多的了。我建议你开始享受这些糖果吧。啊！比比多味豆！我年轻的时候真倒霉，不小心吃到一颗味道臭烘烘的豆子，恐怕从那以后，我就不怎么喜欢吃豆子了——不过我想，选一颗太妃糖口味的总是万无一失的，你说呢？”
　
　　他笑着把那颗金棕色的豆子丢进嘴里。接着他呛得喘不过气来，说：“呸，倒霉！是耳屎！”
　
　　医院护士长庞弗雷夫人是个善良的女人，但是非常严厉。
　
　　“只见五分钟。”哈利恳求道。
　
　　“绝对不行。”
　
　　“你让邓布利多教授进来了……”
　
　　“是啊，那当然，他是校长嘛，自然有所不同。你需要休息。”
　
　　“我不是正在休息嘛，您看，躺在床上，什么也不做。哦，求求您了，庞弗雷夫人……”
　
　　“哦，好吧，”她说，“可是只准五分钟。”
　
　　于是她让罗恩和赫敏进来了。
　
　　“哈利！”
　
　　赫敏看样子又要伸开双臂搂抱他了，但又及时克制住了自己，这使哈利松了口气，因为他的头仍然很疼。
　
　　“哦，哈利，我们都以为你肯定要——邓布利多担心极了——”
　
　　“整个学校都在谈论这件事，”罗恩说，“当时到底是怎么个情况？”
　
　　真实的故事比没有根据的谣传更离奇和惊心动魄，这种情况是非常罕见的，而现在就是这样。哈利把一切原原本本地讲给他们听：奇洛、魔镜、魔法石和伏地魔。罗恩和赫敏听得非常专心，每到惊险的地方，他们就紧张地倒抽冷气，当哈利讲到奇洛的缠头巾下面的那副面孔时，赫敏失声尖叫起来。
　
　　“这么说，魔法石没有了？”最后罗恩问道，“勒梅快要死了？”
　
　　“我也是这么说的，可是邓布利多认为——他说什么来着？‘对于头脑十分清醒的人来说，死亡不过是另一场伟大的冒险’。”
　
　　“我早就说过他有点神经兮兮的。”罗恩说。他心目中的英雄变得这样不可理喻，他感到非常震惊。
　
　　“后来你们俩的情况怎么样？”哈利说。
　
　　“噢，我很顺利地返回去了。”赫敏说道，“我把罗恩唤醒——很是花了一些时间呢——然后我们飞快地冲向猫头鹰的棚屋，想同邓布利多取得联系，不料却在门厅里碰上了他。他已经知道了——他只说了一句：‘哈利去盯住他了，是吗？’然后就赶紧朝四楼奔去。”
　
　　“你说，邓布利多是不是有意要你这么做的？”罗恩说，“把你父亲的隐形衣送给你，引导你去做那件事？”
　
　　“哎呀，”赫敏忍不住说道，“如果他真是这样——我的意思是——那就太可怕了——你很可能被杀死的。”
　
　　“不，不是这样，”哈利若有所思地说，“邓布利多是个很有意思的人。我认为他大概想给我一个机会。他似乎对这里发生的事情多多少少都知道一些。我觉得他十分清楚我们打算做什么，他没有阻止我们，反而暗暗地教给我们许多有用的东西。我认为，他让我懂得魔镜的功能绝不是偶然的。他好像认为如果可能的话，我有权面对伏地魔……”
　
　　“是啊，这就是邓布利多不同凡响的地方。”罗恩骄傲地说，“听着，你明天一定要来参加年终宴会。分数都算出来了，当然了，斯莱特林得了第一名——你错过了最后一场魁地奇比赛，没有你，我们被拉文克劳队打得落花流水——不过宴会上的东西还是挺好吃的。”
　
　　就在这时，庞弗雷夫人闯了进来。
　
　　“你们已经待了将近十五分钟了，快给我出去。”她坚决地说。
　
　　哈利踏踏实实地一觉睡到天亮，觉得元气差不多恢复了。
　
　　“我想去参加宴会，”当庞弗雷夫人整理他的一大堆糖果盒时，哈利对她说道，“可不可以啊？”
　
　　“邓布利多教授说允许你去。”她不以为然地说。似乎在她看来，邓布利多教授并没有认识到宴会具有潜在的危险。“又有人来看你了。”
　
　　“噢，太好了，”哈利说，“是谁？”
　
　　他话音未落，海格就侧着身子钻进门来。海格每次走进房门，就显得像个庞然大物。他在哈利身旁坐下，看了他一眼，就伤心地哭了起来。
　
　　“都——怪我——这个——笨蛋！”他用手捂着脸哭泣着，“是我告诉那个恶棍怎样制服路威的！是我告诉他的！他什么都知道了，就是不知道这个，而我偏偏告诉了他！你差点就没命了！都是为了一只龙蛋！我再也不喝酒了！我应该被赶出去，一辈子做个麻瓜！”
　
　　“海格！”哈利说。他十分震惊地看到海格因悲哀和悔恨而颤抖，大颗的眼泪渗进他的胡须。“海格，他总有办法打听到的，我们说的是伏地魔啊，即使你不告诉他，他也总有办法知道的。”
　
　　“你差点就没命了！”海格抽抽噎噎地说，“哦，你别说那个名字！”
　
　　“我就要说，伏地魔！”哈利大声吼道。他看见海格吓得惊慌失措，才停止了喊叫。“我曾经面对面地和他相遇，我当面叫他的名字。海格，求求你，快活一些吧，我们保住了魔法石，它现在不在了，伏地魔再也不能用它作恶了。吃一块巧克力蛙吧，我有一大堆呢……”
　
　　海格用手背擦了擦鼻子，说道：“这倒提醒了我。我也给你带来了一件礼物呢。”
　
　　“不会是白鼬三明治吧？”哈利担心地问。
　
　　海格终于勉强地笑出了声。“不是。邓布和多昨天放了我一天假，让我把它整理出来。当然啦，他完全应该把我开除的——行了，这个给你……”
　
　　看上去像是一本精美的、皮封面的书。哈利好奇地打开，里面贴满了巫师的照片。在每一页上朝他微笑、挥手的，都是他的父亲和母亲。
　
　　“我派猫头鹰给你父母的老同学送信，向他们要照片……知道你没有他们的照片……你喜欢吗？”
　
　　哈利说不出话来，但海格全明白了。
　
　　那天晚上，哈利独自下楼去参加年终宴会。刚才庞弗雷夫人大惊小怪地拦住他，坚持要给他再检查一遍身体，所以，当他赶到礼堂时，里面已经坐满了人。
　
　　礼堂里用代表斯莱特林的绿色和银色装饰一新，以庆祝他们连续七年赢得了学院杯冠军。主宾席后面的墙上，挂着一条绘着斯莱特林蛇的巨大横幅。哈利一走进去，礼堂里突然鸦雀无声，然后突然每个人又开始高声说话。他走到格兰芬多的桌子旁，坐在了罗恩和赫敏中间，假装没有注意到人们都站起来盯着他看。幸好，片刻之后，邓布利多也赶到了，礼堂里的嘈杂声渐渐平息下来。
　
　　“又是一年过去了！”邓布利多兴高采烈地说，“在尽情享受这些美味佳肴之前，我必须麻烦大家听听一个老头子的陈词滥调。这是多么精彩的一年！你们的小脑瓜里肯定都比过去丰富了一些……前面有整个暑假在等着你们，可以让你们在下学期开始之前，好好把那些东西消化消化，让脑子里腾出空来……
　
　　“现在，据我所知，我们首先要进行学院杯的颁奖仪式，各学院的具体得分如下：第四名，格兰芬多，三百一十二分；第三名，赫奇帕奇，三百五十二分；拉文克劳四百二十六分，斯莱特林四百七十二分。”
　
　　斯莱特林的餐桌上爆发出一阵雷鸣般的欢呼声和跺脚声。哈利看见德拉科·马尔福用高脚酒杯使劲敲打着桌子，那副样子真让人恶心。
　
　　“是啊，是啊，表现不错。”邓布利多说，“不过，最近发生的几件事也必须计算在内。”
　
　　礼堂里变得非常安静，斯莱特林们的笑容也收敛了一些。
　
　　“呃，呃，”邓布利多清了清嗓子，“我还有最后一些分数要分配。让我看看。对了……第一项——罗恩韦斯莱先生……”
　
　　罗恩的脸一下子涨得通红，那样子活像一个被太阳晒于的红萝卜。
　
　　“……他下赢了许多年来霍格沃茨最精彩的一盘棋，我为此奖励格兰芬多学院五十分。”
　
　　格兰芬多们的欢呼声差点把施了魔法的天花板掀翻了。他们头顶上的星星似乎也被震得微微颤抖。可以听见珀西在大声告诉其他级长：“是我弟弟，你们知道的！我最小的弟弟！顺利通过了麦格教授的巨型棋盘阵！”
　
　　大家好不容易才又平静下来。
　
　　“第二项——赫敏格兰杰小姐……她面对烈火，冷静地进行逻辑推理，我要奖励格兰芬多学院五十分。”
　
　　赫敏把脸埋在臂弯里；哈利怀疑她肯定是偷偷地哭了。他们周围格兰芬多的同学们都欣喜若狂，在餐桌旁跳上跳下——他们整整上升了一百分！
　
　　“第三项——哈利波特……”邓布利多说。
　
　　礼堂里顿时变得格外寂静。
　
　　“……他表现出了大无畏的胆量和过人的勇气，为此，我还要奖励格兰芬多学院六十分。”
　
　　喧闹声简直震耳欲聋。那些一边把嗓子喊得嘶哑，一边还能在心里计算分数的同学们知道，格兰芬多现在是四百七十二分——和斯莱特林的分数完全一样。他们已经直逼学院杯冠军——如果邓布利多多奖给哈利一分就好了。
　
　　邓布利多举起一只手。礼堂里渐渐又安静下来。
　
　　“勇气有许多种类，”邓布利多微笑着，“对付敌人我们需要超人的胆量，而要在朋友面前坚持自己的立场，同样也需要很大的勇气。因此，我要奖励纳威隆巴顿先生十分。”
　
　　如果有人此刻站在礼堂外面，可能会以为这里发生了爆炸，格兰芬多餐桌上的欢呼声一浪高过一浪。哈利、罗恩和赫敏站起来高声喝彩，只见纳威惊讶得脸色煞白，一下子就被挤上来拥抱他的人群淹没了。他从来没有给格兰芬多赢过一分啊！哈利一边欢呼，一边用胳膊肘捅了捅罗恩，然后指指马尔福。看马尔福的样子，即使他刚刚被人施了全身束缚咒，也不会显得比现在更吃惊、更恐慌了。
　
　　“这就意味着，”邓布利多不得不大声吼叫，才能盖过雷鸣般的欢呼喝彩，因为就连拉文克劳和赫奇帕奇的学生们，也在庆祝斯莱特林的突然惨败，“我们需要对这里的装饰做一些小小的改变。”
　
　　他拍了拍手，立刻，那些绿色的悬垂彩带变成了鲜红色，银色的则变成了金色；巨大的斯莱特林蛇隐去了，取而代之的是一头威风凛凛的格兰芬多狮子。斯内普正在同麦格教授握手，脸上强挤出尴尬的笑容。他的目光和哈利相遇了，哈利顿时就明白了，斯内普对他的态度丝毫也没有改变。哈利觉得这没有什么可担心的。似乎明年的生活又将恢复正常，至少恢复到霍格沃茨一贯的状态。
　
　　这是哈利一生中最美好的夜晚，比赢了魁地奇比赛、欢庆圣诞或打败巨怪的日子还要美好……他永远、永远也不会忘记这个夜晚。哈利几乎忘了考试成绩还没有公布。
　
　　那一天终于到来了，没想到，他和罗恩都以很高的分数通过了考试，这使他们感到十分意外。赫敏自然是获得了全年级第一名。就连纳威也侥幸过关了，他草药的成绩不错，大大弥补了在魔药上丢失的分数。他们本来以为，高尔笨得像头猪，为人又自私刻薄，这次大概会被开除，不料他竟然也通过了。这似乎有点美中不足，但是正如罗恩所说，生活中是不可能样样顺心的。
　
　　好像是在突然之间，他们的衣柜空了，东西都装到了行李箱里，纳威的癞蛤蟆藏在盥洗室的角落里被人发现了。通知发到了每个学生手里，警告他们放假期间不许使用魔法（“我一直希望他们忘记把这个发给我们。”弗雷德·韦斯莱遗憾地说）。
　
　　海格负责带领他们登上渡过湖面的船队。现在，他们已经坐上了霍格沃茨特快列车，一路谈笑风生，看着窗外的乡村越来越青翠，越来越整洁。列车驶过一个个麻瓜的城镇，他们吃着比比多味豆，脱掉了身上的巫师长袍，换上夹克衫和短上衣；终于，列车停靠在了国王十字架车站的9又3/4站台。
　
　　他们花了很长时间，才全部走出站台。一个干瘪的老警卫守在检票口，一次只允许两个或三个人通过，这样他们就不会一大堆人同时从坚固的墙壁里出来，引起麻瓜们的注意。
　
　　“你今年暑假一定要来我们家里玩，”罗恩说，“你们俩都来——我会派猫头鹰去邀请你们的。”
　
　　“谢谢，”哈利说，“我确实需要有个盼头。”
　
　　他们走向返回麻瓜世界的出口，不断有人从他们身边挤过。
　
　　其中有些人喊道：“拜拜，哈利！”
　
　　“再见，波特！”
　
　　“还是这样出名。”罗恩说着，咧嘴朝他一笑。
　
　　“在我要去的地方就不是了，我向你保证。”哈利说。
　
　　他、罗恩和赫敏一起通过了出口。
　
　　“他在那儿，妈妈，他在那儿，快看呀！”是金妮——罗恩的妹妹——但她指的并不是罗恩。
　
　　“哈利波特！”她尖声尖气地叫道，“快看呀，妈妈！我看见了——”
　
　　“别大声嚷嚷，金妮，对别人指指点点是不礼貌的。”韦斯莱夫人笑眯眯地低头看着他们。“这一年很忙吧？”她说。
　
　　“忙极了。”哈利说，“谢谢您送给我的奶糖和毛衣，韦斯莱夫人。”
　
　　“哦，那没什么，亲爱的。”
　
　　“我说，你准备好了吧？”
　
　　是弗农姨父，他还是那样一张紫红色的脸膛，还是那样一大把胡子，还是用愤怒的目光瞪着哈利。在这个挤满普通人的车站上，哈利竟然明目张胆地提着一只装着猫头鹰的笼子，真是可恨。他身后站着佩妮姨妈和达力表哥，他们一看见哈利，就显出一副惊惶不安的表情。
　
　　“你们一定是哈利的家人吧！”韦斯莱夫人说。
　
　　“也可以这么说吧。”弗农姨父说道，“快点，小子，我们可耽搁不起一整天。”
　
　　他转身走开了。哈利还要留下来再跟罗恩和赫敏说几句话。“那就过完暑假再见吧。”

　　“祝你假期——嗯——愉快。”赫敏说道，她不敢相信地望着弗农姨父的背影，很吃惊世界上居然有这样讨厌的人。
　
　　“哦，我会愉快的。”哈利说。他脸上绽开了一个灿烂的笑容，使罗恩和赫敏都感到诧异。“他们不知道我们在家里不许使用魔法，这个暑假，我要好好地拿达力开开心……”

　

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岁月有着不动声色的力量

举报只看该作者 13楼发表于: 2013-10-23 0

《哈利·波特与密室》（《Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets》）

哈利·波特在霍格沃茨魔法学校学习一年之后，暑假开始了。他在姨父姨妈家熬过痛苦的假期。正当他准备打点行装去学校时，家养小精灵多比前来发出警告：如果哈利返回霍格沃茨，灾难将会临头。多比为哈利重返霍格沃茨设置了很多障碍，但哈利和罗恩还是开着韦斯莱先生会飞的福特老爷车，义无反顾地回到了霍格沃茨……
才一开学，魔法学校里就怪事连连：守门人的猫和几个学生受到某种可怕的力量的攻击而石化，事发现场留着鲜血写的“密室已被打开……”
为了加强同学们的防范意识，洛哈特教授和斯内普教授组织了一个“魔法决斗小组”，旨在向同学们传授一些基本的魔法防御知识。在演习过程中，哈利无意中说了“蛇语”，以阻止马尔福变出的蛇攻击同学，但是这一举动引起了轩然大波，因为，即使在巫师界，会说蛇语，也就是所谓的“蛇佬腔”也是不受欢迎的，因为这是斯莱特林特殊的能力，而且是黑魔王伏地魔使用的语言，大家纷纷猜测他就是“斯莱特林的继承人”，并且把哈利看成是一个危险分子，这让哈利迷惑并痛苦不已。哈利的耳边时常传出幽灵般的声音：密室之门将被打开……这让哈利更加迷惑。同时，又有几名曾经说过哈利坏话的同学被石化了，这让大家的恐慌情绪更重了。
在霍格沃茨里，流传着一个古老的传说。当年霍格沃兹的四位创始人在招收学生的意见上，有着很大的分歧。斯莱特林认为，只有血统最为纯正的纯血统巫师，才有资格进入他的学院学习。斯莱特林在霍格沃兹的一个地方建立了一个密室，传说中只有斯莱特林的继承人才能打开密室。没人知道这个密室在哪里，但是50年前，密室曾经被打开过，并且有一名学生（哭泣的桃金娘）死了。
面对越来越多的受害者，学校里一片恐慌。学校甚至宣布，可能要关闭。
哈利，赫敏和罗恩三人决心要找出密室的秘密。他们怀疑这一切都是马尔福干的。他们配置了复方汤剂，变成克拉布和高尔的样子，想从马尔福口中套出话来。可是，就连马尔福也不知道谁是“斯莱特林的继承人”，更没有打开密室。哈利在他们平时配置汤剂的女生盥洗室里面无意中发现了一本日记，虽然看上去破破烂烂，但是里面一个字都没有。哈利带走了这本日记，并且惊奇的发现，这本日记自己会思考，还会与人交流。日记的主人叫“汤姆·里德尔”，曾经是霍格沃茨的学生。他向哈利展示了他的一段记忆，哈利发现，50年前，似乎是海格打开了密室，放出了怪物，杀死了一名学生。
哈利去找海格求证，海格否认曾经打开密室。正在这时，魔法部官员前来逮捕海格，海格被带去了阿兹卡班，邓布利多也被迫被解除了霍格沃茨校长的职务。海格走之前，为哈利留下了一条线索：“只要跟着蜘蛛，就能得到线索。”
为了解开一连串恐怖的谜团，哈利必须探索密室之谜，而致命的危机正一步步临近……
在一次魁地奇比赛后，哈利和罗恩被告知，赫敏也被石化了。二人心痛不已，更加决心要找出密室的秘密。可是一切毫无线索，就在二人毫无头绪时，哈利发现了蜘蛛，他们俩尾随蜘蛛来到了禁林深处，禁林深处住着一个巨蜘蛛群体，群体的首领阿拉戈克曾经是海格的朋友，阿拉戈克证实，海格没有打开密室，打开密室的另有其人。就当以阿拉戈克为首的蜘蛛要攻击哈利和罗恩时，韦斯莱先生的会飞的福特车赶到，救了他们一命。
哈利和罗恩在一次探视被石化的赫敏时，无意中发现赫敏手中握着一张从图书馆书上撕下来的纸，上面写着“蛇怪” 和“管子”。哈利一下子恍然大悟，原来他一直听到的声音是蛇怪的声音，因为他是蛇佬腔，所以只有他能听到，而别人听不到。而这个声音之所以一直在移动，是因为蛇怪一直藏在城堡里的下水管道里面，并移动着。而50年前死去的女学生，如果她一直没有离开她死去的地方，那么她就是女生盥洗室里的幽灵“哭泣的桃金娘”。
哈利跑去向“哭泣的桃金娘”证实，“哭泣的桃金娘”向他讲述了上次密室被打开的场景。她因为和蛇怪对视了一下，就马上毙命了。而通过反光的东西看到蛇怪眼睛的人就会被石化。
就在这时，坏消息再次传来，罗恩的妹妹金妮被蛇怪劫走了。罗恩和哈利决定马上去救金妮。他们逼迫洛哈特教授陪同他们，通过桃金娘的盥洗室，哈利用蛇语打开了通往密室的通道，进入了密室。在通往密室的通道中，洛哈特教授准备对哈利和罗恩实施遗忘咒，没想到罗恩的坏魔杖把这个恶咒反而作用在了洛哈特教授身上，洛哈特教授失去了记忆。同时，恶咒的威力让通道塌陷了，哈利只好一个人继续前行。在密室里，哈利见到了汤姆.里德尔，才知道，原来他就是少年时代的伏地魔。伏地魔在霍格沃茨读书期间，曾经打开密室，放出了蛇怪。现在，他的一部分记忆存活在日记本里，金妮得到了这本日记，并向他倾诉了自己的心事，伏地魔从而控制了金妮，令她打开了密室，放出了蛇怪，还在墙上写下了“密室被打开……”等文字。伏地魔让蛇怪攻击哈利，危急时刻，凤凰福克斯出现，带给哈利分院帽，哈利从分院帽里抽出了格兰芬多的宝剑，杀死了蛇怪，而蛇怪的毒牙却刺进了他的手臂，当他奄奄一息之时，福克斯飞来用它的眼泪治好了哈利手臂上致命的伤口。与此同时，伏地魔正在吸取着金妮的活力，金妮奄奄一息，伏地魔越来越强大，金妮越来越虚弱，哈利灵机一动，将蛇怪的毒牙刺进了日记本，伏地魔消失了，金妮醒了过来，他们和罗恩会合，福克斯将他们带出了密室，回到了霍格沃茨。
学期快结束了，斯普劳特教授培育的曼德拉草成熟了，救活了所有被石化的同学，海格也被释放了。哈利在霍格沃茨度过的第二年在一片欢乐中结束了。

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岁月有着不动声色的力量

举报只看该作者 14楼发表于: 2013-10-23 0

RTHDAY
　　Not for the first time, an argument had broken out over breakfast at number four, Privet Drive. Mr. Vernon Dursley had been woken in the early hours of the morning by a loud, hooting noise from his nephew Harry's room.
　　"Third time this week!" he roared across the table. "If you can't control that owl, it'll have to go!"
　　Harry tried, yet again, to explain.
　　"She's bored," he said. "She's used to flying around outside. If I could just let her out at night -"
　　"Do I look stupid?" snarled Uncle Vernon, a bit of fried egg dangling from his bushy mustache. "I know what'll happen if that owl's let out."
　　He exchanged dark looks with his wife, Petunia.
　　Harry tried to argue back but his words were drowned by a long, loud belch from the Dursleys' son, Dudley.
　　1
　　"I want more bacon."
　　"There's more in the frying pan, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia, turning misty eyes on her massive son. "We must build you up while we've got the chance .... I don't like the sound of that school food ......"
　　"Nonsense, Petunia, I never went hungry when I was at Smeltings," said Uncle Vernon heartily. "Dudley gets enough, don't you, son?"
　　Dudley, who was so large his bottom drooped over either side of the kitchen chair, grinned and turned to Harry.
　　"Pass the frying pan."
　　"You've forgotten the magic word," said Harry irritably.
　　The effect of this simple sentence on the rest of the family was incredible: Dudley gasped and fell off his chair with a crash that shook the whole kitchen; Mrs. Dursley gave a small scream and clapped her hands to her mouth; Mr. Dursley jumped to his feet, veins throbbing in his temples.
　　"I meant `please'!" said Harry quickly. "I didn't mean -"
　　"WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU," thundered his uncle, spraying spit over the table, "ABOUT SAYING THE `M' WORD IN OUR HOUSE?"
　　"But I -"
　　"HOW DARE YOU THREATEN DUDLEY!" roared Uncle Vernon, pounding the table with his fist.
　　"I just -"
　　"I WARNED YOU! I WILL NOT TOLERATE MENTION OF YOUR ABNORMALITY UNDER THIS ROOF!"
　　Harry stared from his purple-faced uncle to his pale aunt, who was trying to heave Dudley to his feet.
　　"All right," said Harry, "all right. . . "
　　 Uncle Vernon sat back down, breathing like a winded rhinoceros and watching Harry closely out of the corners of his small, sharp eyes.
　　Ever since Harry had come home for the summer holidays, Uncle Vernon had been treating him like a bomb that might go off at any moment, because Harry Potter wasn't a normal boy. As a matter of fact, he was as not normal as it is possible to be.
　　Harry Potter was a wizard - a wizard fresh from his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And if the Dursleys were unhappy to have him back for the holidays, it was nothing to how Harry felt.
　　He missed Hogwarts so much it was like having a constant stomachache. He missed the castle, with its secret passageways and ghosts, his classes (though perhaps not Snape, the Potions master), the mail arriving by owl, eating banquets in the Great Hall, sleeping in his four-poster bed in the tower dormitory, visiting the gamekeeper, Hagrid, in his cabin next to the Forbidden Forest in the grounds, and, especially, Quidditch, the most popular sport in the wizarding world (six tall goal posts, four flying balls, and fourteen players on broomsticks).
　　All Harry's spellbooks, his wand, robes, cauldron, and top-of-the-line Nimbus Two Thousand broomstick had been locked in a cupboard under the stairs by Uncle Vernon the instant Harry had come home. What did the Dursleys care if Harry lost his place on the House Quidditch team because he hadn't practiced all summer? What was it to the Dursleys if Harry went back to school without any of his homework done? The Dursleys were what wizards called Muggles (not a drop of magical blood in their veins),
　　and as far as they were concerned, having a wizard in the family was a matter of deepest shame. Uncle Vernon had even padlocked Harry's owl, Hedwig, inside her cage, to stop her from carrying messages to anyone in the wizarding world.
　　Harry looked nothing like the rest of the family. Uncle Vernon was large and neckless, with an enormous black mustache; Aunt Petunia was horse-faced and bony; Dudley was blond, pink, and porky. Harry, on the other hand, was small and skinny, with brilliant green eyes and jet-black hair that was always untidy. He wore round glasses, and on his forehead was a thin, lightning-shaped scar.
　　It was this scar that made Harry so particularly unusual, even for a wizard. This scar was the only hint of Harry's very mysterious past, of the reason he had been left on the Dursleys' doorstep eleven years before.
　　At the age of one year old, Harry had somehow survived a curse from the greatest Dark sorcerer of all time, Lord Voldemort, whose name most witches and wizards still feared to speak. Harry's parents had died in Voldemort's attack, but Harry had escaped with his lightning scar, and somehow - nobody understood why Voldemort's powers had been destroyed the instant he had failed to kill Harry.
　　So Harry had been brought up by his dead mother's sister and her husband. He had spent ten years with the Dursleys, never understanding why he kept making odd things happen without meaning to, believing the Dursleys' story that he had got his scar in the car crash that had killed his parents.
　　And then, exactly a year ago, Hogwarts had written to Harry,
　　and the whole story had come out. Harry had taken up his place at wizard school, where he and his scar were famous ... but now the school year was over, and he was back with the Dursleys for the summer, back to being treated like a dog that had rolled in something smelly.
　　The Dursleys hadn't even remembered that today happened to be Harry's twelfth birthday. Of course, his hopes hadn't been high; they'd never given him a real present, let alone a cake - but to ignore it completely ...
　　At that moment, Uncle Vernon cleared his throat importantly and said, "Now, as we all know, today is a very important day."
　　Harry looked up, hardly daring to believe it.
　　"This could well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career, " said Uncle Vernon.
　　Harry went back to his toast. Of course, he thought bitterly, Un cle Vernon was talking about the stupid dinner party. He'd been talk ing of nothing else for two weeks. Some rich builder and his wife were coming to dinner and Uncle Vernon was hoping to get a huge order from him (Uncle Vernon's company made drills).
　　"I think we should run through the schedule one more time," said Uncle Vernon. "We should all be in position at eight o'clock. Petunia, you will be -?"
　　"In the lounge," said Aunt Petunia promptly, "waiting to welcome them graciously to our home."
　　"Good, good. And Dudley?"
　　"I'll be waiting to open the door." Dudley put on a foul, simpering smile. "May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"
　　"They'll love him!" cried Aunt Petunia rapturously.
　　"Excellent, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon. Then he rounded on Harry. "And you?"
　　"I'll be in my bedroom, making no noise and pretending I'm not there," said Harry tonelessly.
　　"Exactly," said Uncle Vernon nastily. "I will lead them into the lounge, introduce you, Petunia, and pour them -drinks. At eight- fifteen -"
　　"I'll announce dinner," said Aunt Petunia.
　　"And, Dudley, you'll say -"
　　"May I take you through to the dining room, Mrs. Mason?" said Dudley, offering his fat arm to an invisible woman.
　　"My perfect little gentleman!" sniffed Aunt Petunia.
　　"And you?" said Uncle Vernon viciously to Harry.
　　"I'll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I'm not there," said Harry dully.
　　"Precisely. Now, we should aim to get in a few good compliments at dinner. Petunia, any ideas?"
　　"Vernon tells me you're a wonderful golfer, Mr. Mason.... Do tell me where you bought your dress, Mrs. Mason ......
　　"Perfect. . . Dudley?"
　　"How about -'We had to write an essay about our hero at school, Mr. Mason, and I wrote about you."'
　　This was too much for both Aunt Petunia and Harry. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and hugged her son, while Harry ducked under the table so they wouldn't see him laughing.
　　"And you, boy?"
　　Harry fought to keep his face straight as he emerged.
　　"I'll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I'm not there," he said.
　　"Too right, you will," said Uncle Vernon forcefully. "The Ma sons don't know anything about you and it's going to stay that way. When dinner's over, you take Mrs. Mason back to the lounge for coffee, Petunia, and I'll bring the subject around to drills. With any luck, I'll have the deal signed and sealed before the news at ten. be shopping for a vacation home in Majorca this time to morrow. Harry couldn't feel too excited about this. He didn't think the Dursleys would like him any better in Majorca than they did on Privet Drive. "Right - I'm off into town to pick up the dinner jackets for Dudley and me. And you," he snarled at Harry. "You stay out of your aunt's way while she's cleaning." Harry left through the back door. It was a brilliant, sunny day. He crossed the lawn, slumped down on the garden bench, and sang under his breath: "Happy birthday to me ... happy birthday to me. . . No cards, no presents, and he would be spending the evening pretending not to exist. He gazed miserably into the hedge. He had never felt so lonely. More than anything else at Hogwarts, more even than playing Quidditch, Harry missed his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. They, however, didn't seem to be missing him at all. Neither of them had written to him all summer, even though Ron had said he was going to ask Harry to come and stay. Countless times, Harry had been on the point of unlocking Hedwig's cage by magic and sending her to Ron and Hermione with a letter, but it wasn't worth the risk. Underage wizards weren't allowed to use magic outside of school. Harry hadn't told the
　　Dursleys this; he knew it was only their terror that he might turn them all into dung beetles that stopped them from locking him in the cupboard under the stairs with his wand and broomstick. For the first couple of weeks back, Harry had enjoyed muttering nonsense words under his breath and watching Dudley tearing out of the room as fast as his fat legs would carry him. But the long silence from Ron and Hermione had made Harry feel so cut off from the magical world that even taunting Dudley had lost its appeal - and now Ron and Hermione had forgotten his birthday.
　　What wouldn't he give now for a message from Hogwarts? From any witch or wizard? He'd almost be glad of a sight of his archenemy, Draco Malfoy, just to be sure it hadn't all been a dream ....
　　Not that his whole year at Hogwarts had been fun. At the very end of last term, Harry had come face-to-face with none other than Lord Voldemort himself. Voldemort might be a ruin of his former self, but he was still terrifying, still cunning, still determined to regain power. Harry had slipped through Voldemort's clutches for a second time, but it had been a narrow escape, and even now, weeks later, Harry kept waking in the night, drenched in cold sweat, wondering where Voldemort was now, remembering his livid face, his wide, mad eyes
　　Harry suddenly sat bolt upright on the garden bench. He had been staring absent-mindedly into the hedge - and the hedge was staring back. Two enormous green eyes had appeared among the leaves.
　　Harry jumped to his feet just as a jeering voice floated across the lawn.
　　"I know what day it is," sang Dudley, waddling toward him.
　　The huge eyes blinked and vanished.
　　"What?" said Harry, not taking his eyes off the spot where they had been.
　　"I know what day it is," Dudley repeated, coming right up to him.
　　"Well done," said Harry. "So you've finally learned the days of the week."
　　"Today's your birthday," sneered Dudley. "How come you haven't got any cards? Haven't you even got friends at that freak place?"
　　"Better not let your mum hear you talking about my school," said Harry coolly.
　　Dudley hitched up his trousers, which were slipping down his fat bottom.
　　"Why're you staring at the hedge?" he said suspiciously.
　　"I'm trying to decide what would be the best spell to set it on fire," said Harry.
　　Dudley stumbled backward at once, a look of panic on his fat face.
　　"You c-can't - Dad told you you're not to do m-magic - he said he'll chuck you out of the house - and you haven't got anywhere else to go - you haven't got any friends to take you -"
　　"Jiggery pokery!" said Harry in a fierce voice. "Hocus pocus squiggly wiggly -"
　　"MUUUUUUM!" howled Dudley, tripping over his feet as he dashed back toward the house. "MUUUUM! He's doing you know what!"
　　Harry paid dearly for his moment of fun. As neither Dudley nor
　　the hedge was in any way hurt, Aunt Petunia knew he hadn't really done magic, but he still had to duck as she aimed a heavy blow at his head with the soapy frying pan. Then she gave him work to do, with the promise he wouldn't eat again until he'd finished.
　　While Dudley lolled around watching and eating ice cream, Harry cleaned the windows, washed the car, mowed the lawn, trimmed the flowerbeds, pruned and watered the roses, and repainted the garden bench. The sun blazed overhead, burning the back of his neck. Harry knew he shouldn't have risen to Dudley's bait, but Dudley had said the very thing Harry had been thinking himself... maybe he didn't have any friends at Hogwarts ....
　　Wish they could see famous Harry Potter now, he thought savagely as he spread manure on the flower beds, his back aching, sweat running down his face.
　　It was half past seven ,in the evening when at last, exhausted, he heard Aunt Petunia calling him.
　　"Get in here! And walk on the newspaper!"
　　Harry moved gladly into the shade of the gleaming kitchen. On top of the fridge stood tonight's pudding: a huge mound of whipped cream and sugared violets. A loin of roast pork was sizzling in the oven.
　　"Eat quickly! The Masons will be here soon!" snapped Aunt Petunia, pointing to two slices of bread and a lump of cheese on the kitchen table. She was already wearing a salmon-pink cocktail dress.
　　Harry washed his hands and bolted down his pitiful supper. The moment he had finished, Aunt Petunia whisked away his plate. "Upstairs! Hurry!"
　　As he passed the door to the living room, Harry caught a glimpse of Uncle Vernon and Dudley in bow ties and dinner jack ets. He had only just reached the upstairs landing when the door bell rang and Uncle Vernon's furious face appeared at the foot of the stairs. "Remember, boy - one sound -" Harry crossed to his bedroom on tiptoe slipped inside, closed the door, and turned to collapse on his bed. The trouble was, there was already someone sitting on it.

第一章　最糟糕的生日
　
　

　
　　这天，女贞路四号的早餐桌上又起了争执。一大早，弗农德思礼先生就被他外甥哈利屋里的一阵高声怪叫吵醒了。
　
　　“这星期是第三次了！”他隔着桌子咆哮，“如果你管不住那只猫头鹰，就让它滚蛋！”
　
　　哈利再次试图解释。“它闷得慌，它在外面飞惯了，要是我可以在晚上放它出去……”
　
　　“你当我是傻子啊？”弗农姨父大吼道，一丝煎鸡蛋在他浓密的胡子上晃荡着。“我知道把一只猫头鹰放出去会有什么后果。”他和他妻子佩妮阴沉地交换了一下眼色。
　
　　哈利想反驳，但他的话被表哥达力一声又长又响的饱嗝淹没了。
　
　　“我还要一些腊肉。”
　
　　“煎锅里有的是，宝贝，”佩妮姨妈眼眶湿润地看着她的大块头儿子说道，“我们要抓紧时间把你养胖……学校的伙食让我听着不舒服……”
　
　　“胡说，我在斯梅廷上学时从没饿过肚子。”弗农姨父情绪激烈地说，“达力吃得不差，是不是，儿子？”
　
　　达力胖得屁股上的肉都从座椅的两边挂了下来。他咧嘴一笑，转身对哈利说道：“把煎锅递过来。”
　
　　“你忘了说咒语。”哈利恼火地说。
　
　　这样简单的一句话，对家中其他人产生了不可思议的影响。达力倒吸一口冷气，从褥子上栽了下来，整个厨房都被震动了；德思礼太太尖叫一声，迅速捂住嘴巴；德思礼先生跳起来，太阳穴上青筋暴露。
　
　　“我的意思是‘请’！”哈利连忙说，“我不是指——”
　
　　“我没跟你说吗，”姨父厉声怒斥，唾沫星子溅到了桌上，“在我们家不许说那方面的词！”
　
　　“可我——”
　
　　“你怎么敢威胁达力！”弗农姨父捶着桌子咆哮道。
　
　　“我只是——”
　
　　“我警告过你！我不能容忍你在我家里提到你的特异功能！”
　
　　“好吧，”哈利说，“好吧……”
　
　　弗农姨父坐了下来，像一头气短的犀牛一样喘着粗气，那双精明的小眼睛紧瞟着哈利。
　
　　自从哈利放暑假回家，弗农姨父一直把他当一颗定时炸弹看待，因为哈利不是一个正常的孩子。实际上，他相当不正常。
　
　　哈利波特是一个巫师——刚在霍格沃茨魔法学校上完一年级。如果德思礼对他回家过暑假感到不快，那么他们的不快和哈利的感觉相比根本不值一提。
　
　　他真想念霍格沃茨，想得五脏六腑都发痛。他想念那个城堡，那些秘密通道和幽灵鬼怪，想念他的课程（也许除了魔药老师斯内普的课），还有猫头鹰捎来的信件、大礼堂里的宴会，想念他宿舍楼里的四柱床，想念禁林边上那间小木屋和狩猎场看守海格，更想念魁地奇球——魔法世界里最流行的体育运动（六根高高的门柱、四只会飞的球、十四名骑着扫帚的球员）。
　
　　哈利刚一到家，弗农姨父就把他的咒语书、魔杖、长袍、坩埚和最高级的光轮2000锁进了楼梯下那又小又暗的柜子里。哈利会不会因为一个暑假没练习而被学院魁地奇球队开除，德思礼一家才不管呢。哈利的家庭作业一点都没做，回学校时无法交差，这跟他们有什么关系？德思礼一家是巫师们所说的“麻瓜”（血管里没有一滴巫师的血液）。在他们看来，家里有一个巫师是莫大的耻辱。弗农姨父甚至把哈利的猫头鹰海德薇也锁在了它的笼子里，不让它给魔法世界的任何人送信。
　
　　哈利跟这家人长得一点儿也不像。弗农姨父膀大粳圆，没有脖子，蓄着异常浓密的大胡子；佩妮姨妈长了一张马脸，骨节粗大；达力头发金黄，皮肤白里透红，体形肥胖。而哈利却身材瘦小，长着一双明亮的绿眼睛，漆黑的头发总是乱蓬蓬的，额头上还有一道细长的闪电形伤疤。
　
　　就是这道伤疤使哈利即使在巫师中也是如此与众不同。这道伤疤是哈利神秘过去留下的惟一痕迹，是推测他十一年前为什么会被放在德思礼家门槛上的惟一线索。
　
　　哈利一岁时，居然在遭到伏地魔诅咒之后幸存下来。伏地魔是有史以来最厉害的黑巫师，大多数女巫和男巫都不敢提到他的名字。哈利的父母就死在这个黑巫师手下，可是哈利大难不死，只留下了这道闪电形伤疤。而且，不知怎的，好像自那个恶毒的咒语在哈利身上失灵之后，伏地魔的魔力就被摧毁了。
　
　　所以，哈利是由他的姨妈和姨父养大的。他在德思礼家住了十年，一直搞不懂他为什么能在无意中导致一些古怪的事情发生，因为德思礼一家只说他的父母死于车祸，他的伤疤也是在车祸中留下的。
　
　　一年前，霍格沃茨魔法学校写信给哈利，他才了解到自己的身世。他上了魔法学校，在那里他和他的伤疤赫赫有名……可现在学年结束了，他回到德思礼家过暑假，他们把他当成一条在邋遢地方打过滚的狗来对待。
　
　　德思礼一家忘记了这一天恰好是哈利的十二岁生日。当然，哈利也没有寄予多大的希望，他们从来不会送他什么像样的礼物，更别提生日蛋糕了——但是，完全忘掉未免……
　
　　正在这时，弗农姨父煞有介事地清了清嗓子，说道：“我们都知道，今天是个非常重要的日子。”哈利抬起头，简直不敢相信自己的耳朵。“今天我可能会做成平生最大的一笔交易。”弗农姨父说。
　
　　哈利低下头继续吃面包片。当然啦，他怨忿地想，弗农姨父是在讲那个愚蠢的晚宴。他两星期来张口闭口说的都是这件事。一个有钱的建筑商和他妻子要来吃晚饭，弗农姨父希望那人能订他一大笔货（弗农姨父的公司是做钻机的）。
　
　　“我想我们应该把晚上的安排再过一遍，”弗农姨父说，“八点钟大家应该各就各位。佩妮，你应该——？”
　
　　“在客厅里，”佩妮姨妈应声说，“等着亲切地欢迎他们光临。”
　
　　“很好，很好。达力？”
　
　　“我等着给他们开门。”达力堆起一副令人恶心的做作笑容，“我替你们拿着衣服好吗，梅森先生和夫人？”
　
　　“他们会喜欢他的！”佩妮姨妈欣喜若狂地说。
　
　　“好极了，达力。”弗农姨父说，然后他突然转向哈利，“那么你呢？”
　
　　“我待在我的卧室里，不发出一点儿声音，假装我不在家。”哈利声调平板地回答。
　
　　“不错。”弗农姨父恶狠狠地说，“我将把他们带到客厅里，引见你——佩妮，并给他们倒饮料。八点一刻——”
　
　　“我宣布开饭。”佩妮姨妈说。
　
　　“达力，你要说——”
　
　　“我领您上餐室去好吗，梅森夫人？”达力说，一面把他的胖胳膊伸给那位看不见的女士。
　
　　“多标准的小绅士！”佩妮姨妈吸着鼻子说。
　
　　“你呢？”弗农姨父凶巴巴地问哈利。
　
　　“我待在我的卧室里，不发出一点声音，假装我不在家。”哈利无精打采地说。
　
　　“对了。现在，我们还应该在餐桌上说一些赞美的话。佩妮，你有什么建议吗？”
　
　　“梅森先生，弗农跟我说您高尔夫球打得棒极了……梅森夫人，请告诉我您的衣服是在哪儿买的……”
　
　　“非常好……达力？”
　
　　“这样行不行：‘梅森先生，老师要我们写一写自己最崇拜的人，我就写了您。’”
　
　　这可让佩妮姨妈和哈利都无法承受。佩妮高兴得眼泪直流，紧紧搂住儿子，哈利则把头藏到了桌子底下，怕他们看到他大笑的样子。
　
　　“你呢，哈利？”
　
　　哈利直起身，努力绷住脸。
　
　　“我待在我的卧室里，不发出一点声音，假装我不在家。”
　
　　“这就对了。”弗农姨父用力地说，“梅森夫妇根本不知道你，就让这种情况保持下去。佩妮，晚饭之后你领梅森夫人回客厅喝咖啡，我将把话题引到钻机上。要是走运的话，在十点钟的新闻之前我就可以把签字盖章的协议拿到手。明天这个时候我们就能选购在马乔卡的别墅了。”
　
　　哈利并不怎么兴奋，他不认为德思礼一家到了马乔卡就会比在女贞路多喜欢他一点儿。
　
　　“好——我去城里拿达力和我的礼服。你呢，”他对哈利吼道，“不要在你姨妈洗衣服的时候去碍手碍脚。”
　
　　哈利从后门出来。外面天气晴朗，阳光灿烂。他穿过草坪，一屁股坐在花园长凳上，压着嗓子唱了起来：“祝我生日快乐……祝我生日快乐……”
　
　　没有贺卡，没有礼物，今晚还要他假装自己不存在。他悲伤地注视着树篱。他从未感到这样孤独。他分外想念他最好的朋友罗恩韦斯莱和赫敏格兰杰，胜过想念霍格沃茨其他的一切，甚至包括魁地奇球。可他们好像一点儿也不想他。整个暑假谁都没有给他写信，罗恩还说要请哈利去他家做客呢。
　
　　一次又一次，哈利差点儿要用魔法打开海德薇的笼子，让它捎封信给罗恩和赫敏。但这太冒险了。未成年的巫师是不能在校外使用魔法的。哈利没有把这个规定告诉德思礼一家，他知道，这家人只是害怕他把他们全变成金龟子，才没有把他和魔杖、飞天扫帚一起关进楼梯下的暗柜里。回家后的头两个星期，哈利喜欢假装着嘴里念念有词，然后看达力拼命搬动他那两条胖腿，尽快往屋外跑。可是罗恩和赫敏迟迟不给他来信，使哈利觉得自己和魔法世界断了联系，连捉弄达力也失去了乐趣——现在罗恩和赫敏连他的生日都忘了。
　
　　只要能换得霍格沃茨的一点音信，不管来自哪个女巫或男巫，他什么都会豁出去。他甚至乐意看一眼他的仇敌德拉科马尔福，只要能证明这一切不是一场梦
……他在霍格沃茨的这一年并不都是好玩有趣的。上学期末，哈利与伏地魔本人正面相遇。伏地魔虽然大不如从前，但依然狠毒可怕，阴险狡猾，并决心要恢复自己的魔力。哈利又一次逃脱了伏地魔的魔爪，但是很险。即使现在，已经过去好几个星期了，哈利还会在半夜惊醒，浑身冷汗，想着伏地魔这时会在哪里，记起他那青灰色的脸、圆睁的疯狂的眼睛……哈利突然坐直了身子。他一直心不在焉地注视着树篱——可现在树篱正注视着他。树叶丛中闪动着两只大得出奇的绿眼睛。
　
　　哈利跳了起来，这时草坪对面飘过来一声嘲笑。
　
　　“我知道今天是什么日子。”达力摇摇摆摆地走过来。
　
　　那对大眼睛忽闪几下，消失了。
　
　　“什么？”哈利说，眼睛还盯着那个地方。
　
　　“我知道今天是什么日子。”达力又说了一遍，走到他旁边。
　
　　“很好，”哈利说，“你终于学会了数星期几。”
　
　　“今天是你的生日！”达力讥讽地说，“你居然没有收到贺卡？你在那个鬼地方连个朋友都没有吗？”
　
　　“最好别让你妈妈听到你说我的学校。”哈利冷冷地说。
　
　　达力提了提裤子，那裤子顺着他的胖屁股往下滑。
　
　　“你盯着树篱干什么？”他怀疑地问。
　
　　“我在想用什么咒语使它燃烧起来。”哈利说。
　
　　达力踉踉跄跄倒退了几步，胖脸上显出惊恐的表情。
　
　　“你不——不能——我爸说不许你使魔法——他说要把你赶出去——你没有地方去——没有朋友收留你——”
　
　　“吉格利玻克利！”哈利厉声说，“霍克斯波克斯……奇格利鬼格利……”
　
　　“妈——妈！”达力嚎叫起来，跌跌撞撞地朝屋里奔去。“妈——妈！他又在干那个了！”
　
　　哈利为这片刻的开心付出了很大的代价。由于达力和树篱都安然无恙，佩妮姨妈知道他并没有真的施展魔法，但她仍然用沾着肥皂水的煎锅朝他劈头打来，幸亏他躲得快。然后她支使他去干活，不干完不许吃东西。达力吃着冰淇淋，在一旁晃来晃去地看着哈利擦窗户，洗汽车，修整草坪，整理花圃，给玫瑰剪枝浇水，重新油漆花园长凳。烈日当头，晒得哈利后脖颈发烫。哈利知道他不应该上达力的钩，可是达力说中了哈利的心事……也许他在霍格沃茨根本没有朋友……
　
　　“但愿他们能看到大名鼎鼎的哈利波特现在的样子。”往花坛里撒粪肥的时候，他发狠地想道。他腰酸背疼，汗水顺着脸颊往下流。
　
　　一直到晚上七点半，才终于听到佩妮姨妈喊他，他已经精疲力竭。
　
　　“进来！踩着报纸走！”
　
　　哈利高兴地走进阴凉的、擦得闪闪发亮的厨房里。冰箱顶上放着今天晚餐的布丁：好大一堆奶油，还放了撒糖霜的堇菜。一大块烤肉在烤箱里咝咝作响。
　
　　“快吃！海森他们快要来了！”佩妮姨妈严厉地说，指着厨房桌子上的两块面包和一堆奶酪。她已经穿上了一件浅橙色的鸡尾酒会礼服。
　
　　哈利洗了手，匆匆吞下了他那点可怜的晚饭。他刚一吃完，佩妮姨妈就把盘子收走了。
　
　　“上楼！快！”经过客厅门口时，哈利瞥了一眼穿着礼服、打着领结的弗农姨父和达力。
　
　　他刚走到楼上，门铃就响了，弗农姨父凶巴巴的脸出现在楼梯下。“记着，小子——你要敢发出一点儿声音……”
　
　　哈利踮着脚走到自己卧室门口，悄悄溜进去，关上门，转身想要一头扑倒在他的床上。问题是，床上已经坐了一个人。

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岁月有着不动声色的力量

举报只看该作者 15楼发表于: 2013-10-23 0

　　CHAPTER TWo
　　I
　　DOBBY'S WARNING
　　arry managed not to shout out, but it was a close thing. The little creature on the bed had large, bat-like ears and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls. Harry knew instantly that this was what had been watching him out of the garden hedge that morning.
　　As they stared at each other, Harry heard Dudley's voice from the hall.
　　"May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"
　　 The creature slipped off the bed and bowed so low that the end of its long, thin nose touched the carpet. Harry noticed that it was wearing what looked like an old pillowcase, with rips for arm- and leg-holes.
　　"Er - hello," said Harry nervously.
　　"Harry Potter!" said the creature in a high-pitched voice Harry was sure would carry down the stairs. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir ... Such an honor it is . . . ."
　　"Th-thank you," said Harry, edging along the wall and sinking into his desk chair, next to Hedwig, who was asleep in her large cage. He wanted to ask, "What are you?" but thought it would sound too rude, so instead he said, "Who are you?"
　　"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," said the creature.
　　"Oh - really?" said Harry. "Er - I don't want to be rude or anything, but - this isn't a great time for me to have a house-elf in my bedroom."
　　Aunt Petunias high, false laugh sounded from the living room. The elf hung his head.
　　"Not that I'm not pleased to meet you," said Harry quickly, "but, er, is there any particular reason you're here?"
　　"Oh, yes, sir," said Dobby earnestly. "Dobby has come to tell you, sir ... it is difficult, sir ... Dobby wonders where to begin . . . ."
　　"Sit down," said Harry politely, pointing at the bed.
　　To his horror, the elf burst into tears - very noisy tears.
　　"S-sit down!" he wailed. "Never ... never ever. . . "
　　Harry thought he heard the voices downstairs falter.
　　 "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to offend you or anything -"
　　"Offend Dobby!" choked the elf. "Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard - like an equal-"
　　Harry, trying to say "Shh!" and look comforting at the same time, ushered Dobby back onto the bed where he sat hiccoughing, looking like a large and very ugly doll. At last he managed to control himself, and sat with his great eyes fixed on Harry in an expression of watery adoration.
　　"You can't have met many decent wizards," said Harry, trying to cheer him up.
　　Dobby shook his head. Then, without warning, he leapt up and started banging his head furiously on the window, shouting, "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"
　　"Don't - what are you doing?" Harry hissed, springing up and pulling Dobby back onto the bed - Hedwig had woken up with a particularly loud screech and was beating her wings wildly against the bars of her cage.
　　"Dobby had to punish himself, sir," said the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir . . . ."
　　"Your family?"
　　"The wizard family Dobby serves, sir... DOBBY'S is a houseelf - bound to serve one house and one family forever . .....
　　"Do they know you're here?" asked Harry curiously.
　　Dobby shuddered.
　　"Oh, no, sir, no ... Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir _"
　　"But won't they notice if you shut your ears in the oven door?"
　　"Dobby doubts it, sir. Dobby is always having to punish himself for something, sir. They lets Dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes they reminds me to do extra punishments ......
　　"But why don't you leave? Escape?"
　　"A house-elf must be set free, sir. And the family will never set Dobby free ... Dobby will serve the family until he dies, sir . . . ."
　　Harry stared.
　　"And I thought I had it bad staying here for another four weeks,"
　　he said. "This makes the Dursleys sound almost human. Can't anyone help you? Can't I?"
　　Almost at once, Harry wished he hadn't spoken. Dobby dissolved again into wails of gratitude.
　　"Please," Harry whispered frantically, "please be quiet. If the Dursleys hear anything, if they know you're here -"
　　"Harry Potter asks if he can help Dobby ... Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew . .....
　　Harry, who was feeling distinctly hot in the face, said, "Whatever you've heard about my greatness is a load of rubbish. I'm not even top of my year at Hogwarts; that's Hermione, she -"
　　But he stopped quickly, because thinking about Hermione was painful.
　　"I-Tarry Potter is humble and modest," said Dobby reverently, his orb- like eyes aglow. "Harry Potter speaks not of his triumph over He-Who- Must-Not-Be-Named -"
　　"Voldemort?" said Harry.
　　Dobby clapped his hands over his bat ears and moaned, "Ah, speak not the name, sir! Speak not the name!"
　　"Sorry" said Harry quickly. "I know lots of people don't like it. My friend Ron -"
　　He stopped again. Thinking about Ron was painful, too.
　　Dobby leaned toward Harry, his eyes wide as headlights.
　　'Dobby heard tell," he said hoarsely, "that Harry Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time just weeks ago ... that Harry Potter escaped Yet again. "
　　Harry nodded and Dobby's eyes suddenly shone with tears.
　　,Ah, sir," he gasped, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby
　　pillowcase he was wearing. "Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later... Harry Potter must notgo back to Hogwarts."
　　There was a silence broken only by the chink of knives and forks from downstairs and the distant rumble of Uncle Vernon's voice.
　　"W-what?" Harry stammered. "But I've got to go back - term starts on September first. It's all that's keeping me going. You don't know what it's like here. I don't belong here. I belong in your world - at Hogwarts."
　　"No, no, no," squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flapped. "Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."
　　"Why?" said Harry in surprise.
　　"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"
　　"What terrible things?" said Harry at once. "Who's plotting them?"
　　Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head frantically against the wall.
　　"All right!" cried Harry, grabbing the elf's arm to stop him. "You can't tell me. I understand. But why are you warning me?" A sudden, unpleasant thought struck him. "Hang on - this hasn't got anything to do with Vol- - sorry - with You-Know-Who, has it?
　　You could just shake or nod," he added hastily as Dobby's head tilted worryingly close to the wall again.
　　Slowly, Dobby shook his head.
　　"Not -not He- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, sir ='
　　But Dobby's eyes were wide and he seemed to be trying to give Harry a hint. Harry, however, was completely lost.
　　"He hasn't got a brother, has he?"
　　Dobby shook his head, his eyes wider than ever.
　　"Well then, I can't think who else would have a chance of making horrible things happen at Hogwarts," said Harry. "I mean, there's Dumbledore, for one thing - you know who Dumbledore is, don't you?"
　　 Dobby bowed his head.
　　"Albus Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had. Dobby knows it, sir. Dobby has heard Dumbledore's powers rival those of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his strength. But, sir" - Dobby's voice dropped to an urgent whisper - "there are powers Dumbledore doesn't ... powers no decent wizard. . ."
　　And before Harry could stop him, Dobby bounded off the bed, seized Harry's desk lamp, and started beating himself around the head with earsplitting yelps.
　　A sudden silence fell downstairs. Two seconds later Harry, heart thudding madly, heard Uncle Vernon coming into the hall, calling, "Dudley must have left his television on again, the little tyke!"
　　"Quick! In the closet!" hissed Harry, stuffing Dobby in, shutting the door, and flinging himself onto the bed just as the door handle turned.
　　"What - the - devil - are - you - doing?" said Uncle Vernon through gritted teeth, his face horribly close to Harry's. "You've just ruined the punch line of my Japanese golfer joke .... One more sound and you'll wish you'd never been born, boy!"
　　He stomped flat-footed from the room.
　　Shaking, Harry let Dobby out of the closet.
　　"See what it's like here?" he said. "See why I've got to go back to Hogwarts? It's the only place I've got -well, I think I've got friends. "
　　"Friends who don't even write to Harry Potter?" said Dobby slyly.
　　"I expect they've just been - wait a minute," said Harry, frowning. "How do you know my friends haven't been writing to me?"
　　Dobby shuffled his feet.
　　"Harry Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best - "
　　"Have you been stopping my letters?"
　　"Dobby has them here, sir," said the elf. Stepping nimbly out of Harry's reach, he pulled a thick wad of envelopes from the inside of the pillowcase he was wearing. Harry could make out Hermione's neat writing, Ron's untidy scrawl, and even a scribble that looked as though it was from the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Hagrid.
　　Dobby blinked anxiously up at Harry.
　　"Harry Potter mustn't be angry... Dobby hoped ... if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him ... Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir . .....
　　 Harry wasn't listening. He made a grab for the letters, but Dobby jumped out of reach.
　　"Harry Potter will have them, sir, if he gives Dobby his word
　　that he will not return to Hogwarts. Ah, sir, this is a danger you must not face! Say you won't go back, sir!"
　　"No," said Harry angrily. "Give me my friends' letters!"
　　"Then Harry Potter leaves Dobby no choice," said the elf sadly.
　　Before Harry could move, Dobby had darted to the bedroom door, pulled it open, and sprinted down the stairs.
　　Mouth dry, stomach lurching, Harry sprang after him, trying not to make a sound. He jumped the last six steps, landing catlike on the hall carpet, looking around for Dobby. From the dining room he heard Uncle Vernon saying, ". . . tell Petunia that very funny story about those American plumbers, Mr. Mason. She's been dying to hear. . . "
　　Harry ran up the hall into the kitchen and felt his stomach disappear.
　　Aunt Petunia's masterpiece of a pudding, the mountain of cream and sugared violets, was floating up near the ceiling. On top of a cupboard in the corner crouched Dobby.
　　"No," croaked Harry. "Please ... they'll kill me ......
　　"Harry Potter must say he's not going back to school -"
　　"Dobby ... please ...
　　"Say it, sir -"
　　"I can't -"
　　Dobby gave him a tragic look.
　　"Then Dobby must do it, sir, for Harry Potter's own good."
　　The pudding fell to the floor with a heart-stopping crash. Cream splattered the windows and walls as the dish shattered. With a crack like a whip, Dobby vanished.
　　There were screams from the dining room and Uncle Vernon
　　burst into the kitchen to find Harry, rigid with shock, covered from head to foot in Aunt Petunias pudding.
　　At first, it looked as though Uncle Vernon would manage to gloss the whole thing over. ("Just our nephew - very disturbed
　　meeting strangers upsets him, so we kept him upstairs ) He
　　shooed the shocked Masons back into the dining room, promised Harry he would flay him to within an inch of his life when the Ma sons had left, and handed him a mop. Aunt Petunia dug some ice cream out of the freezer and Harry, still shaking, started scrubbing the kitchen clean.
　　Uncle Vernon might still have been able to make his deal - if it hadn't been for the owl.
　　Aunt Petunia was just passing around a box of after-dinner mints when a huge barn owl swooped through the dining room window, dropped a letter on Mrs. Mason's head, and swooped out again. Mrs. Mason screamed like a banshee and ran from the house shouting about lunatics. Mr. Mason stayed just long enough to tell the Dursleys that his wife was mortally afraid of birds of all shapes and sizes, and to ask whether this was their idea of a joke.
　　Harry stood in the kitchen, clutching the mop for support, as Uncle Vernon advanced on him, a demonic glint in his tiny eyes.
　　"Read it!" he hissed evilly, brandishing the letter the owl had delivered. "Go on - read it!"
　　 Harry took it. It did not contain birthday greetings.
　　Dear Mr. Potter,
　　We have received intelligence that a Hover Charm was used at your place of residence this evening at twelve minutes past nine.
　　As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C).
　　We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy.
　　Enjoy your holidays! Yours sincerely,
　　Mafalda Hopkirk
　　IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE
　　Ministry of Magic
　　Harry looked up from the letter and gulped.
　　"You didn't tell us you weren't allowed to use magic outside school," said Uncle Vernon, a mad gleam dancing in his eyes. "For got to mention it .... Slipped your mind, I daresay .....
　　He was bearing down on Harry like a great bulldog, all his teeth bared. "Well, I've got news for you, boy . ... I'm locking you up .... You're never going back to that school ... never ... and if you try and magic yourself out - they'll expel you!"
　　And laughing like a maniac, he dragged Harry back upstairs.
　　Uncle Vernon was as bad as his word. The following morning,
　　he paid a man to fit bars on Harry's window. He himself fitted a cat- flap in the bedroom door, so that small amounts of food could be pushed inside three times a day. They let Harry out to use the bathroom morning and evening. Otherwise, he was locked in his room around the clock.
　　Three days later, the Dursleys were showing no sign of relenting, and Harry couldn't see any way out of his situation. He lay on his bed watching the sun sinking behind the bars on the window and wondered miserably what was going to happen to him.
　　What was the good of magicking himself out of his room if Hogwarts would expel him for doing it? Yet life at Privet Drive had reached an all-time low. Now that the Dursleys knew they weren't going to wake up as fruit bats, he had lost his only weapon. Dobby might have saved Harry from horrible happenings at Hogwarts, but the way things were going, he'd probably starve to death anyway.
　　The cat-flap rattled and Aunt Petunias hand appeared, pushing a bowl of canned soup into the room. Harry, whose insides were aching with hunger, jumped off his bed and seized it. The soup was stone-cold, but he drank half of it in one gulp. Then he crossed the room to Hedwig's cage and tipped the soggy vegetables at the bottom of the bowl into her empty food tray. She ruffled her feathers and gave him a look of deep disgust.
　　"It's no good turning your beak up at it - that's all we've got," said Harry grimly.
　　He put the empty bowl back on the floor next to the cat-flap and lay back down on the bed, somehow even hungrier than he had been before the soup.
　　Supposing he was still alive in another four weeks, what would happen if he didn't turn up at Hogwarts? Would someone be sent to see why he hadn't come back? Would they be able to make the Dursleys let him go?
　　The room was growing dark. Exhausted, stomach rumbling, mind spinning over the same unanswerable questions, Harry fell into an uneasy sleep.
　　He dreamed that he was on show in a zoo, with a card reading UNDERAGE WIZARD attached to his cage. People goggled through the bars at him as he lay, starving and weak, on a bed of straw. He saw Dobby's face in the crowd and shouted out, asking for help, but Dobby called, "Harry Potter is safe there, sir!" and vanished. Then the Dursleys appeared and Dudley rattled the bars of the cage, laughing at him.
　　"Stop it," Harry muttered as the rattling pounded in his sore head. "Leave me alone ... cut it out ... I'm trying to sleep . . . ."
　　He opened his eyes. Moonlight was shining through the bars on the window. And someone was goggling through the bars at him: a freckle- faced, red-haired, long-nosed someone.
　　Ron Weasley was outside Harry's window.
　　CHAPTER Three
　　THE BURROW
　　Ron.l" breathed Harry, creeping to the window and pushing it up so they could talk through the bars. "Ron, how did you - What the -?"
　　Harry's mouth fell open as the full impact of what he was seeing hit him. Ron was leaning out of the back window of an old turquoise car, which was parked in midair Grinning at Harry from the front seats were Fred and George, Ron's elder twin brothers.
　　"All right, Harry?" asked George.
　　"What's been going on?" said Ron. "Why haven't you been answering my letters? I've asked you to stay about twelve times, and then Dad came home and said you'd got an official warning for using magic in front of Muggles -"
　　"It wasn't me - and how did he know?"
　　"He works for the Ministry," said Ron. "You know we're not supposed to do spells outside school -"
　　"You should talk," said Harry, staring at the floating car.
　　"Oh, this doesn't count," said Ron. "We're only borrowing this. It's Dad's, we didn't enchant it. But doing magic in front of those Muggles you live with -"
　　"I told you, I didn't - but it'll take too long to explain now look, can you tell them at Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked me up and won't let me come back, and obviously I can't magic myself out, because the Ministry'Il think that's the second spell I've done in three days, so -"
　　"Stop gibbering," said Ron. "We've come to take you home with us."
　　"But you can't magic me out either -"
　　"We don't need to," said Ron, jerking his head toward the front seat and grinning. "You forget who I've got with me."
　　"Tie that around the bars," said Fred, throwing the end of a rope to Harry.
　　"If the Dursleys wake up, I'm dead," said Harry as he tied the rope tightly around a bar and Fred revved up the car.
　　"Don't worry," said Fred, "and stand back."
　　Harry moved back into the shadows next to Hedwig, who seemed to have realized how important this was and kept still and silent. The car revved louder and louder and suddenly, with a crunching noise, the bars were pulled clean out of the window as Fred drove straight up in the air. Harry ran back to the window to see the bars dangling a few feet above the ground. Panting, Ron hoisted them up into the car. Harry listened anxiously, but there was no sound from the Dursleys' bedroom.
　　When the bars were safely in the back seat with Ron, Fred reversed as close as possible to Harry's window.
　　"Get in," Ron said.
　　"But all my Hogwarts stuff - my wand - my broomstick -"
　　"Where is it?"
　　 "Locked in the cupboard under the stairs, and I can't get out of this room -"
　　"No problem," said George from the front passenger seat. "Out of the way, Harry."
　　Fred and George climbed catlike through the window into Harry's room. You had to hand it to them, thought Harry, as George took an ordinary hairpin from his pocket and started to pick the lock.
　　"A lot of wizards think it's a waste of time, knowing this sort of Muggle trick," said Fred, "but we feel they're skills worth learning, even if they are a bit slow."
　　There was a small click and the door swung open.
　　"So - we'll get your trunk - you grab anything you need from your room and hand it out to Ron," whispered George.
　　"Watch out for the bottom stair - it creaks," Harry whispered back as the twins disappeared onto the dark landing.
　　Harry dashed around his room, collecting his things and passing them out of the window to Ron. Then he went to help Fred and George heave his trunk up the stairs. Harry heard Uncle Vernon cough.
　　At last, panting, they reached the landing, then carried the trunk through Harry's room to the open window. Fred climbed back into the car to pull with Ron, and Harry and George pushed from the bedroom side. Inch by inch, the trunk slid through the window.
　　Uncle Vernon coughed again.
　　"A bit more," panted Fred, who was pulling from inside the car. "One good push -"
　　Harry and George threw their shoulders against the trunk and it slid out of the window into the back seat of the car.
　　"Okay, let's go," George whispered.
　　But as Harry climbed onto the windowsill there came a sudden loud screech from behind him, followed immediately by the thunder of Uncle Vernon's voice.
　　"THAT RUDDY OWL!"
　　"I've forgotten Hedwig!"
　　Harry tore back across the room as the landing light clicked on - he snatched up Hedwig's cage, dashed to the window, and passed it out to Ron. He was scrambling back onto the chest of drawers when Uncle Vernon hammered on the unlocked door and it crashed open.
　　For a split second, Uncle Vernon stood framed in the doorway; then he let out a bellow like an angry bull and dived at Harry, grabbing him by the ankle.
　　Ron, Fred, and George seized Harry's arms and pulled as hard as they could.
　　"Petunia!" roared Uncle Vernon. "He's getting away! HE'S GETTING AWAY!"
　　But the Weasleys gave a gigantic tug and Harry's leg slid out of Uncle Vernon's grasp - Harry was in the car - he'd slammed the door shut
　　"Put your foot down, Fred!" yelled Ron, and the car shot suddenly toward the moon.
　　Harry couldn't believe it - he was free. He rolled down the
　　window, the night air whipping his hair, and looked back at the shrinking rooftops of Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley were all hanging, dumbstruck, out of Harry's window.
　　"See you next summer!" Harry yelled.
　　The Weasleys roared with laughter and Harry settled back in his seat, grinning from ear to ear.
　　"Let Hedwig out," he told Ron. "She can fly behind us. She hasn't had a chance to stretch her wings for ages."
　　George handed the hairpin to Ron and, a moment later, Hedwig soared joyfully out of the window to glide alongside them like a ghost.
　　"So - what's the story, Harry?" said Ron impatiently. "What's been happening?"
　　Harry told them all about Dobby, the warning he'd given Harry and the fiasco of the violet pudding. There was a long, shocked silence when he had finished.
　　"Very fishy," said Fred finally.
　　"Definitely dodgy" agreed George. "So he wouldn't even tell you who's supposed to be plotting all this stuff?"
　　"I don't think he could," said Harry. "I told you, every time he got close to letting something slip, he started banging his head against the wall."
　　He saw Fred and George look at each other.
　　"What, you think he was lying to me?" said Harry.
　　"Well," said Fred, "put it this way - house-elves have got powerful magic of their own, but they can't usually use it without their master's permission. I reckon old Dobby was sent to stop you com
　　ing back to Hogwarts. Someone's idea of a joke. Can you think of anyone at school with a grudge against you?"
　　"Yes," said Harry and Ron together, instantly.
　　"Draco Malfoy," Harry explained. "He hates me."
　　"Draco Malfoy?" said George, turning around. "Not Lucius Malfoy's son?"
　　"Must be, it's not a very common name, is it?" said Harry.
　　 Y.
　　"I've heard Dad talking about him," said George. "He was a big supporter of You-Know-Who."
　　"And when You-Know-Who disappeared," said Fred, craning around to look at Harry, "Lucius Malfoy came back saying he'd never meant any of it. Load of dung - Dad reckons he was right in You- Know-Who's inner circle."
　　Harry had heard these rumors about Malfoy's family before, and they didn't surprise him at all. Malfoy made Dudley Dursley look
　　like a kind, thoughtful, and sensitive boy.
　　"I don't know whether the Malfoys own a house-elf said
　　Harry.
　　"Well, whoever owns him will be an old wizarding family, and they'll be rich," said Fred.
　　"Yeah, Mum's always wishing we had a house-elf to do the ironing," said George. "But all we've got is a lousy old ghoul in the attic and gnomes all over the garden. House-elves come with big old manors and castles and places like that; you wouldn't catch one in our house . . . ."
　　Harry was silent. Judging by the fact that Draco Malfoy usually had the best of everything, his family was rolling in wizard gold; he
　　could just see Malfoy strutting around a large manor house. Sending the family servant to stop Harry from going back to Hogwarts also sounded exactly like the sort of thing Malfoy would do. Had Harry been stupid to take Dobby seriously?
　　"I'm glad we came to get you, anyway," said Ron. "I was getting really worried when you didn't answer any of my letters. I thought it was Errol's fault at first
　　-"
　　"Who's Errol?"
　　"Our owl. He's ancient. It wouldn't be the first time he'd collapsed on a delivery. So then I tried to borrow Hermes -"
　　"Who?"
　　"The owl Mum and Dad bought Percy when he was made prefect," said Fred from the front.
　　"But Percy wouldn't lend him to me," said Ron. "Said he needed him."
　　"Percy's been acting very oddly this summer," said George, frowning. "And he has been sending a lot of letters and spending a load of time shut up in his room .... I mean, there's only so many times you can polish a prefect badge .... You're driving too far west, Fred," he added, pointing at a compass on the dashboard. Fred twiddled the steering wheel.
　　"So, does your dad know you've got the car?" said Harry, guessing the answer.
　　"Er, no," said Ron, "he had to work tonight. Hopefully we'll be able to get it back in the garage without Mum noticing we flew it."
　　"What does your dad do at the Ministry of Magic, anyway?"
　　"He works in the most boring department," said Ron. "The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."
　　"The what?"
　　"It's all to do with bewitching things that are Muggle-made, you know, in case they end up back in a Muggle shop or house. Like, last year, some old witch died and her tea set was sold to an antiques shop. This Muggle woman bought it, took it home, and tried to serve her friends tea in it. It was a nightmare - Dad was working overtime for weeks."
　　"What happened?"
　　"The teapot went berserk and squirted boiling tea all over the place and one man ended up in the hospital with the sugar tongs clamped to his nose. Dad was going frantic - it's only him and an old warlock called Perkins in the office -and they had to do Memory Charms and all sorts of stuff to cover it up -"
　　"But your dad - this car -"
　　Fred laughed. "Yeah, Dad's crazy about everything to do with Muggles; our shed's full of Muggle stuff. He takes it apart, puts spells on it, and puts it back together again. If he raided our house he'd have to put himself under arrest. It drives Mum mad."
　　"That's the main road," said George, peering down through the windshield. "We'll be there in ten minutes .... Just as well, it's getting light . . . ."
　　A faint pinkish glow was visible along the horizon to the east.
　　Fred brought the car lower, and Harry saw a dark patchwork of fields and clumps of trees.
　　"We're a little way outside the village," said George. "Ottery St. Catchpole."
　　Lower and lower went the flying car. The edge of a brilliant red sun was now gleaming through the trees.
　　"Touchdown!" said Fred as, with a slight bump, they hit the ground. They had landed next to a tumbledown garage in a small yard, and Harry looked out for the first time at Ron's house.
　　It looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by magic (which, Harry reminded himself, it probably was). Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, THE BuRRow. Around the front door lay a jumble of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard.
　　"It's not much," said Ron.
　　"It's wonderful," said Harry happily, thinking of Privet Drive.
　　They got out of the car.
　　"Now, we'll go upstairs really quietly," said Fred, "and wait for Mum to call us for breakfast Then, Ron, you come bounding downstairs going, `Mum, look who turned up in the night!' and she'll be all pleased to see Harry and no one need ever know we flew the car."
　　"Right," said Ron. "Come on, Harry, I sleep at the - at the top
　　Ron had gone a nasty greenish color, his eyes fixed on the house. The other three wheeled around.
　　Mrs. Weasley was marching across the yard, scattering chickens, and for a short, plump, kind-faced woman, it was remarkable how much she looked like a saber-toothed tiger.
　　"Ah, "said Fred.
　　"Oh, dear," said George.
　　Mrs. Weasley came to a halt in front of them, her hands on her hips, staring from one guilty face to the next. She was wearing a flowered apron with a wand sticking out of the pocket.
　　"So, "she said.
　　"Morning, Mum," said George, in what he clearly thought was a jaunty, winning voice.
　　"Have you any idea how worried I've been?" said Mrs. Weasley in a deadly whisper.
　　"Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to -"
　　All three of Mrs. Weasley's sons were taller than she was, but they cowered as her rage broke over them.
　　"Beds empty! No note! Cargone - could have crashed - out of my
　　mind with worry - did you care? - never, as long as I've lived - you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy -"
　　"Perfect Percy," muttered Fred.
　　"YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY'S BOOK!" yelled Mrs. Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred's chest. "You could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his job -"
　　It seemed to go on for hours. Mrs. Weasley had shouted herself hoarse before she turned on Harry, who backed away.
　　"I'm very pleased to see you, Harry, dear," she said. "Come in and have some breakfast."
　　She turned and walked back into the house and Harry, after a nervous glance at Ron, who nodded encouragingly, followed her.
　　 The kitchen was small and rather cramped. There was a
　　scrubbed wooden table and chairs in the middle, and Harry sat down on the edge of his seat, looking around. He had never been in a wizard house before.
　　The clock on the wall opposite him had only one hand and no numbers at all. Written around the edge were things like Time to make tea, Time to feed the chickens, and You're late. Books were stacked three deep on the mantelpiece, books with titles like Charm Your Own Cheese, Enchantment in Baking, and One Minute Feasts - It's Magic! And unless Harry's ears were deceiving him, the old radio next to the sink had just announced that coming up was "Witching Hour, with the popular singing sorceress, Celestina Warbeck."
　　Mrs. Weasley was clattering around, cooking breakfast a little haphazardly, throwing dirty looks at her sons as she threw sausages into the frying pan. Every now and then she muttered things like "don't know what you were thinking of," and "never would have believed it."
　　"I don't blame you, dear," she assured Harry, tipping eight or nine sausages onto his plate. "Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we'd come and get you ourselves if you hadn't written back to Ron by Friday. But really," (she was now adding three fried eggs to his plate) "flying an illegal car halfway across the country - anyone could have seen you -"
　　She flicked her wand casually at the dishes in the sink, which began to clean themselves, clinking gently in the background.
　　"It was cloudy, Mum!" said Fred.
　　"You keep your mouth closed while you're eating!" Mrs. Weasley snapped.
　　"They were starving him, Mum!" said George.
　　"And you!" said Mrs. Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting Harry bread and buttering it for him.
　　At that moment there was a diversion in the form of a small, redheaded figure in a long nightdress, who appeared in the kitchen, gave a small squeal, and ran out again.
　　"Ginny," said Ron in an undertone to Harry. "My sister. She's been talking about you all summer."
　　"Yeah, she'll be wanting your autograph, Harry," Fred said with a grin, but he caught his mother's eye and bent his face over his plate without another word. Nothing more was said until all four plates were clean, which took a surprisingly short time.
　　"Blimey, I'm tired," yawned Fred, setting down his knife and fork at last. "I think I'll go to bed and -"
　　"You will not," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "It's your own fault you've been up all night. You're going to de-gnome the garden for me; they're getting completely out of hand again -"
　　"Oh, Mum -"
　　"And you two," she said, glaring at Ron and Fred. "You can go up to bed, dear," she added to Harry. "You didn't ask them to fly that wretched car -"
　　But Harry, who felt wide awake, said quickly, "I'll help Ron. I've never seen a de-gnoming -"
　　"That's very sweet of you, dear, but it's dull work," said Mrs. Weasley. "Now, let's see what Lockhart's got to say on the subject -"
　　And she pulled a heavy book from the stack on the mantelpiece. George groaned.
　　"Mum, we know how to de-gnome a garden -"
　　Harry looked at the cover of Mrs. Weasley's book. Written across it in fancy gold letters were the words Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests. There was a big photograph on the front of a very good- IOI)king wizard with wavy blond hair and bright blue eyes. As always in the wizarding world, the photograph was moving; the wizard, who Harry supposed was Gilderoy Lockhart, kept winking cheekily up at them all. Mrs. Weasley beamed down at him.
　　"Oh, he is marvelous," she said. "He knows his household pests, all right, it's a wonderful book . . . ."
　　"Mum fancies him," said Fred, in a very audible whisper.
　　"Don't be so ridiculous, Fred," said Mrs. Weasley, her cheeks rather pink. "All right, if you think you know better than Lockhart, you can go and get on with it, and woe betide you if there's a single gnome in that garden when I come out to inspect it."
　　Yawning and grumbling, the Weasleys slouched outside with Harry behind them. The garden was large, and in Harry's eyes, exactlY what a garden should be. The Dursleys wouldn't have liked it - there were plenty of weeds, and the grass needed cutting but there were gnarled trees all around the walls, plants Harry had never seen spilling from every flower bed, and a big green pond full of frogs.
　　"Muggles have garden gnomes, too, you know," Harry told Ron
　　they crossed the lawn.
　　"Yeah, I've seen those things they think are gnomes," said Ron, bent double with his head in a peony bush, "like fat little Santa Clauses with fishing rods . . . ."
　　There was a violent scuffling noise, the peony bush shuddered, and Ron straightened up. "This is a gnome," he said grimly.
　　"Gerroff me! Gerroff me!" squealed the gnome.
　　It was certainly nothing like Santa Claus. It was small and leathery looking, with a large, knobby, bald head exactly like a potato. Ron held it at arm's length as it kicked out at him with its horny little feet; he grasped it around the ankles and turned it upside down.
　　"This is what you have to do," he said. He raised the gnome above his head ("Gerroff me!") and started to swing it in great circles like a lasso. Seeing the shocked look on Harry's face, Ron added, "It doesn't hurt them - you've just got to make them really dizzy so they can't find their way back to the gnomeholes."
　　He let go of the gnome's ankles: It flew twenty feet into the air and landed with a thud in the field over the hedge.
　　"Pitiful," said Fred. "I bet I can get mine beyond that stump."
　　Harry learned quickly not to feel too sorry for the gnomes. He decided just to drop the first one he caught over the hedge, but the gnome, sensing weakness, sank its razor-sharp teeth into Harry's finger and he had a hard job shaking it off - until
　　"Wow, Harry - that must've been fifty feet ......
　　The air was soon thick with flying gnomes.
　　"See, they're not too bright," said George, seizing five or six gnomes at once. "The moment they know the de-gnoming's going on they storm up to have a look. You'd think they'd have learned by now just to stay put."
　　Soon, the crowd of gnomes in the field started walking away in a straggling line, their little shoulders hunched.
　　"They'll be back," said Ron as they watched the gnomes disappear into the hedge on the other side of the field. "They love it here .... Dad's too soft with them; he thinks they're funny . . . ."
　　Just then, the front door slammed.
　　"He's back!" said George. "Dad's home!"
　　They hurried through the garden and back into the house.
　　Mr. Weasley was slumped in a kitchen chair with his glasses off and his eyes closed. He was a thin man, going bald, but the little hair he had was as red as any of his children's. He was wearing long green robes, which were dusty and travel-worn.
　　"What a night," he mumbled, groping for the teapot as they all sat down around him. "Nine raids. Nine! And old Mundungus Fletcher tried to put a hex on me when I had my back turned ......
　　Mr. Weasley took a long gulp of tea and sighed.
　　"Find anything, Dad?" said Fred eagerly.
　　"All I got were a few shrinking door keys and a biting kettle," yawned Mr. Weasley. "There was some pretty nasty stuff that wasn't my department, though. Mortlake was taken away for questioning about some extremely odd ferrets, but that's the Committee on Experimental Charms, thank goodness ......
　　"Why would anyone bother making door keys shrink?" said George.
　　"Just Muggle-baiting," sighed Mr. Weasley. "Sell them a key that keeps shrinking to nothing so they can never find it when they need it .... Of course, it's very hard to convict anyone because no Muggle would admit their key keeps shrinking - they'll insist they just keep losing it. Bless them, they'll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it's staring them in the face .... But the things our lot have taken to enchanting, you wouldn't believe -"
　　"LIKE CARS, FOR INSTANCE?"
　　Mrs. Weasley had appeared, holding a long poker like a sword. Mr. Weasley's eyes jerked open. He stared guiltily at his wife.
　　"C-cars, Molly, dear?"
　　"Yes, Arthur, cars," said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes flashing. "Imagine a wizard buying a rusty old car and telling his wife all he wanted to do with it was take it apart to see how it worked, while really he was enchanting it to make it fly."
　　Mr. Weasley blinked.
　　"Well, dear, I think you'll find that he would be quite within the law to do that, even if - er - he maybe would have done better to, um, tell his wife the truth .... There's a loophole in the law, you'll find .... As long as he wasn't intending to fly the car, the fact that the car could fly wouldn't -"
　　"Arthur Weasley, you made sure there was a loophole when you wrote that law!" shouted Mrs. Weasley. "Just so you could carry on tinkering with all that Muggle rubbish in your shed! And for your information, Harry arrived this morning in the car you weren't intending to fly!"
　　"Harry?" said Mr. Weasley blankly. "Harry who?"
　　He looked around, saw Harry, and jumped.
　　"Good lord, is it Harry Potter? Very pleased to meet you, Ron's told us so much about -"
　　"Your sons flew that car to Harry's house and back last night."
　　shouted Mrs. Weasley. "What have you got to say about that, eh?"
　　"Did you really?" said Mr. Weasley eagerly. "Did it go all right? I - I mean," he faltered as sparks flew from Mrs. Weasley's eyes, "that - that was very wrong, boys - very wrong indeed ......
　　"Let's leave them to it," Ron muttered to Harry as Mrs. Weasley swelled like a bullfrog. "Come on, I'll show you my bedroom."
　　They slipped out of the kitchen and down a narrow passageway to an uneven staircase, which wound its way, zigzagging up
　　through the house. On the third landing, a door stood ajar. Harry just caught sight of a pair of bright brown eyes staring at him before it closed with a snap.
　　"Ginny," said Ron. "You don't know how weird it is for her to be this shy. She never shuts up normally -"
　　They climbed two more flights until they reached a door with peeling paint and a small plaque on it, saying RONALD'S ROOM.
　　Harry stepped in, his head almost touching the sloping ceiling, and blinked. It was like walking into a furnace: Nearly everything in Ron's room seemed to be a violent shade of orange: the bedspread, the walls, even the ceiling. Then Harry realized that Ron had covered nearly every inch of the shabby wallpaper with posters of the same seven witches and wizards, all wearing bright orange robes, carrying broomsticks, and waving energetically.
　　"Your Quidditch team?" said Harry.
　　"The Chudley Cannons," said Ron, pointing at the orange bedspread, which was emblazoned with two giant black C's and a speeding cannonball. "Ninth in the league."
　　Ron's school spellbooks were stacked untidily in a corner, next to a pile of comics that all seemed to feature The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle. Ron's magic wand was lying on top of a fish tank full of frog spawn on the windowsill, next to his fat gray rat, Scabbers, who was snoozing in a patch of sun.
　　Harry stepped over a pack of Self-Shuffling playing cards on the floor and looked out of the tiny window. In the field far below he could see a gang of gnomes sneaking one by one back through the Weasleys' hedge. Then he turned to look at Ron, who was watching him almost nervously, as though waiting for his opinion.
　　"It's a bit small," said Ron quickly. "Not like that room you had with the Muggles. And I'm right underneath the ghoul in the attic; he's always banging on the pipes and groaning ...... But Harry, grinning widely, said, "This is the best house I've ever been in." Ron's ears went pink.

第二章　多比的警告
　
　

　
　　哈利差点儿没叫出声来。床上的那个小怪物长着两只蝙蝠似的大耳朵，一对突出的绿眼睛有网球那么大。哈利马上想到，这就是早上在花园树篱外看他的那双眼睛。
　
　　他们对视着，哈利听到达力的声音从门厅传来。
　
　　“我替你们拿着衣服好吗，梅森先生和夫人？”
　
　　那怪物从床上滑下来，深深鞠了一躬，细长的鼻子都碰到了地毯上。哈利注意到他身上穿的像一只旧枕套，在胳膊和腿的地方开了几个洞。
　
　　“哦——你好。”哈利不自然地说。
　
　　“哈利波特！”那怪物尖声叫道，哈利想楼下肯定能听到。“多比一直想见您，先生……不胜荣幸……”
　
　　“谢——谢谢。”哈利贴着墙壁挪动，坐到他桌前的椅子上，挨着在大笼子里睡觉的海德薇。他想问“你是什么”？但觉得这听起来太不礼貌，就问“你是谁”？
　
　　“多比，先生。就叫多比，家养小精灵多比。”那怪物说。
　
　　“哦——是吗？”哈利说，“哦——我不想失礼，可是——此刻在我的卧室里接待一位家养小精灵有些不太合适。”
　
　　客厅传来了佩妮姨妈虚伪的高声大笑。小精灵垂下了头。
　
　　“我不是不高兴见你，”哈利赶忙说，“可是，哦，你来这儿有什么特别的原因吗？”
　
　　“哦，有的，先生，”多比热切地说，“多比来告诉您，先生……不好说，先生……多比不知道从哪里说起……”
　
　　“坐下吧。”哈利指了指床，礼貌地说。
　
　　没想到小精灵突然痛哭流涕，把哈利吓了一跳，他哭的声音很大。
　
　　“坐——坐下！”多比呜咽道，“从来……从来没有……”
　
　　哈利仿佛听到楼下的声音变得有些结巴。
　
　　“对不起，”他小声说，“我没想冒犯你。”
　
　　“冒犯多比！”小精灵哽咽地说，“从来没有一位巫师让多比坐下——像对待平等的人那样——”
　
　　哈利竭力在说“嘘”的同时作出抚慰的表情，领多比回到床上坐下。多比坐在那儿打嗝儿，看上去像个丑陋的大娃娃。最后他终于控制住自己，用他那双泪汪汪的大眼睛充满敬爱地凝视着哈利。
　
　　“你大概没遇到多少正派的巫师吧。”哈利想让他高兴一些。
　
　　多比摇了摇头，然后冷不防跳了起来，用脑袋疯狂地撞着窗户，嘴里喊着：“坏多比！坏多比！”
　
　　“别这样，你这是干什么？”哈利着急地小声说，跳起来把多比拉回床上。海德薇被吵醒了，发出一声格外响亮的尖叫，在笼子里疯狂地乱扑乱撞。
　
　　“多比要惩罚自己，先生。”小精灵说，他的眼睛已经有点儿对在一起了。“多比几乎说了主人家的坏话，先生……”
　
　　“主人家？”
　
　　“多比服侍的那个巫师家，先生……多比是家养小精灵——必须永远服侍一户人家……”
　
　　“他们知道你在这儿吗？”哈利好奇地问。
　
　　多比哆嗦了一下。
　
　　“哦，不，先生，他们不知道……多比因为来见您，要对自己进行最严厉的惩罚。多比将把自己的耳朵关在烤箱门里。万一给他们知道，先生——”
　
　　“可如果你把耳朵关在烤箱门里，他们不会发现吗？”
　
　　“多比猜想不会，先生。多比总是为一些事惩罚自己，先生。他们让多比这样做，先生。有时候他们提醒我更厉害地惩罚自己呢……”
　
　　“你为什么不逃走呢？”
　
　　“家养小精灵必须由主人放走。可主人永远不会放走多比……多比将在主人家做到死，先生……”
　
　　哈利目瞪口呆，他说：“要我在这儿多待四个星期，我都觉得受不了。这样比起来，德思礼一家还算是有些人情味的。没有人能帮你吗？我能帮你吗？”
　
　　哈利几乎立刻就后悔他说了这句话。多比再次感动得呜呜大哭。
　
　　“拜托你，”哈利紧张地说，“小点儿声。要是给德思礼一家听到，要是他们知道你在这儿……”
　
　　“哈利波特问他能不能帮助多比……多比早就听说了您的伟大，先生，可您的仁慈，多比以前还不了解……”
　
　　哈利感到脸上发烧，忙说：“你听到的那些都是胡说，我在霍格沃茨连年级第一名都排不上，第一名是赫敏，她——”
　
　　但他很快住了口，一想起赫敏他就感到痛苦。
　
　　“哈利波特这样谦虚，”多比崇敬地说，两只大圆眼睛闪着光，“哈利波特不说他战胜那个连名字都不能提的魔头的事迹。”
　
　　“伏地魔？”哈利说。
　
　　多比捂住耳朵，呻吟道：“啊，别说那个名字，先生！别说那个名字！”
　
　　“对不起，”哈利马上说道，“我知道许多人都不喜欢他——我的朋友罗恩
……”
　
　　他又停住了。想到罗恩也让人痛苦。
　
　　多比凑近哈利，他的眼睛大得像车灯。
　
　　“多比听说，”他嘶哑地说，“哈利波特几星期前又遇见了那个魔头……哈利波特再次逃脱了。”
　
　　哈利点了点头。多比顿时热泪盈眶。
　
　　“啊，先生，”他抽抽搭搭，用肮脏破烂的枕套角抹了抹脸，“哈利波特英勇无畏！他已经闯过了这么多的险关！可是多比想来保护哈利波特，来给他送个信，即使多比过后必须把自己的耳朵关在烤箱门里……多比想说，哈利波特不能回霍格沃茨了。”
　
　　屋里一片安静，只听见楼下刀叉叮当之声，还有弗农姨父的咕噜声。
　
　　“什——什么？”哈利大吃一惊，“可我必须回去——九月一号开学，这是我生活的希望。你不知道我在这里过的是什么日子。我不属于这儿。我属于你们的世界——属于霍格沃茨。”
　
　　“不，不，”多比尖声说，用力摇着头，把耳朵甩得啪哒啪哒直响，“哈利波特必须待在安全的地方。他这么伟大，这么仁慈，我们不能失去他。如果哈利波特回到霍格沃茨，他将会有生命危险。”
　
　　“为什么？”哈利惊讶地问。
　
　　“有一个阴谋，哈利波特。今年霍格沃茨魔法学校会有恐怖的事情发生。”多比压低声音说，突然浑身发抖，“多比知道这件事已经有几个月了，先生。哈利波特不能去冒险。他太重要了，先生！”
　
　　“什么恐怖的事情？”哈利马上问，“是谁在策划？”
　
　　多比滑稽地发出一声哽咽，然后疯狂地把脑袋往墙上撞。
　
　　“好了！”哈利叫起来，抓住小精灵的胳膊，不让他去撞墙。“我知道你不能说。可你为什么要来警告我？”突然一个不愉快的念头在他脑海中一闪。“等等——这不会和伏——对不起——和你知道的那个神秘人有关吧？你只要摇头或点头。”他赶忙加上一句，因为多比的脑袋又令人担心地靠向了墙壁。
　
　　多比缓缓地摇了摇头。
　
　　“不是——不是那个连名字都不能提的魔头，先生。”
　
　　可是多比的眼睛瞪大了，似乎想给哈利一个暗示，但哈利一片茫然。
　
　　“他没有兄弟吧？”多比摇摇头，眼睛瞪得更大。
　
　　“那我就想不出还有谁能在霍格沃茨制造恐怖事件了。”哈利说道，“我是说，第一，有邓布利多——你知道邓布利多吧？”
　
　　多比低下头。“多比知道，阿不思邓布利多是霍格沃茨建校以来最伟大的校长。多比听说邓布利多的法力能与那个连名字都不能提的魔头最强大的时候相匹敌。可是先生，”多比急促地小声说，“有些法术邓布利多也不……没有一个正派的巫师会……”
　
　　哈利制止不及，多比跳下床，抓起哈利的台灯往自己的脑袋上乱敲，伴着一声声凄厉的惨叫。
　
　　楼下突然一阵沉寂，两秒钟后，心脏怦怦乱跳的哈利听到弗农姨父走到门厅里，喊道：“达力准是又忘记关电视机了，这个小淘气！”
　
　　“快！衣橱里！”哈利小声说。他把多比塞进衣橱，关上橱门，刚扑倒在床上，门把手就转动了。
　
　　“你——到底——在——搞——什——么——鬼？”弗农姨父咬牙切齿地说着，把脸凑到哈利面前，近得可怕。“我正讲到日本高尔夫球手的笑话中最关键的地方，都被你给搅了……再发出一点儿声音，我让你后悔生下来，小子！”
　
　　他重重地跺着地板走了出去。哈利哆嗦着把多比从衣橱里拉出来。
　
　　“看到这里的情况了吧？知道我为什么必须回霍格沃茨了吧？我只有那个地方可去——我想我在那儿有些朋友。”
　
　　“什么朋友，连信都不给哈利波特写一封？”多比狡黠地说。
　
　　“我想他们只是——慢着，”哈利皱起眉头，“你怎么知道我的朋友没给我写信？”
　
　　多比把脚在地上蹭来蹭去。
　
　　“哈利波特不要生多比的气——多比都是为了……”
　
　　“你截了我的信？”
　
　　“信在多比这儿，先生。”小精灵说。他敏捷地跳到哈利抓不到的地方，从身上穿的枕套里面抽出厚厚一沓信封。哈利认出了赫敏工整的字体、罗恩龙飞凤舞的笔迹，甚至还有一种潦草的字儿，好像是霍格沃茨的狩猎场看守海格写的。
　
　　多比焦急地眨巴着眼睛仰视着哈利。“哈利波特不要生气……多比原本希望
……如果哈利波特以为他的朋友把他忘了……哈利波特也许就不想回学校了，先生……”
　
　　哈利没有心思听，伸手去抢信，可多比一跳，闪开了。“哈利波特先要向多比保证不回霍格沃茨。哎呀，先生，您千万不能去冒这种险！说您不会回去，先生！”
　
　　“不，”哈利生气地说，“把我朋友的信给我！”
　
　　“那么多比就没有别的选择了。”小精灵悲哀地说。
　
　　哈利还没反应过来，多比已经冲到门边，拉开门，飞快地奔下楼去。
　
　　哈利嘴里发干，五脏六腑都搅在了一起。他急忙跳起来追赶，尽量不弄出声响。他一下子蹦过最后六级台阶，猫一样地落在门厅地毯上，东张西望地寻找多比。他听到餐室里弗农姨父在说：“……梅森夫人，给佩妮讲讲那些美国管子工的笑话吧，她一直想听……”
　
　　哈利穿过门跑进厨房，觉得肚子里一阵发空。佩妮姨妈的杰作布丁、堆得高高的奶油和撒了糖霜的堇菜，正飘浮在天花板下面。多比蹲在角落的碗橱顶上。
　
　　“不要，”哈利压低嗓门说，“求求你……他们会杀了我的……”
　
　　“哈利波特必须保证不回学校——”
　
　　“多比……求求你……”
　
　　“保证吧，先生……”
　
　　“我不能！”
　
　　多比悲哀地看了他一眼。
　
　　“那多比只能这么做了，先生，这是为哈利波特好。”
　
　　布丁盘子当啷一声摔到地上，哈利觉得他的心跳停止了。盘子摔得粉碎，奶油溅得墙上、窗户上都是。随着一声抽鞭子似的噼啪巨响，多比不见了。餐室里发出尖叫声，弗农姨父冲进厨房，发现哈利呆若木鸡地站在那里，从头到脚溅满了佩妮姨妈的布丁。开始，弗农姨父似乎还可以把这件事掩饰过去（“我家外甥
——脑子有点儿毛病——见到生人就紧张，所以我们让他待在楼上……”）。他把受惊的海森夫妇哄回餐室，对哈利说等客人走后非把他揍个半死，又丢给他一个拖把。佩妮姨妈从冰箱里挖出一些冰淇淋。哈利开始擦洗厨房，身上还在打着哆嗦。要不是那只猫头鹰，弗农姨父也许还能做成他的生意。
　
　　佩妮姨妈正在分发一盒餐后薄荷糖，突然一只猫头鹰旋风般从餐室窗口飞了进来，把一封信丢在梅森夫人的头上，又旋风般飞走了。梅森夫人尖声怪叫，马上逃出了这所住宅，口里喊着疯子、疯子。梅森先生多站了片刻，告诉德思礼家人，他太太对各种各样、大大小小的鸟都怕得要命，并问这是不是他们故意安排的玩笑。
　
　　哈利站在厨房里，攥紧拖把支撑着自己的身体。弗农姨父朝他逼过来，小眼睛里闪着恶魔般的亮光。
　
　　“你读读这个！”他挥舞着猫头鹰送来的那封信，恶毒地说，“拿去——读啊！”
　
　　哈利接过信，那里面没有生日祝词。
　
　　波特先生：我们接到报告，得知今晚九点十二分你在你的住处用了一个悬停魔咒。你知道，未成年巫师不许在校外使用魔法，你如再有此类行为，将有可能被本校开除（对未成年巫师加以合理约束的法令，一八七五年，第三款）。另外请记住，根据国际巫师联合会保密法第十三款，任何可能引起非魔法界成员（麻瓜）注意的魔法活动，均属严重违法行为。祝暑期愉快！马法尔达霍普柯克魔法部禁止滥用魔法司。
　
　　哈利抬起头，喉咙噎住了。
　
　　“你没告诉我们你不能在校外使用魔法，”弗农姨父说，眼里闪着疯狂的光芒，“忘说了……丢到脑后了吧，我猜……”
　
　　他像一条大斗牛狗那样向哈利压下来，牙齿全露在外面。“啊，我有消息要告诉你，小子……我要把你关起来……你永远别想回那个学校……永远……如果你用魔法逃出去——他们会开除你的！”
　
　　弗农姨父说到做到，第二天就找了个人给哈利的窗户上安了铁条。他亲自在卧室门上装了一个活板门，一天三次送一点儿食物进去。他们每天早晚让哈利出来上厕所，其他时间都把他锁在屋里。
　
　　三天后，德思礼一家还丝毫没有发慈悲的迹象，哈利想不出脱身的办法。他躺在床上看太阳在窗栅后面落下，悲哀地想着自己今后的命运。
　
　　如果会被霍格沃茨开除，那用魔法逃出去又有什么意义呢？可是女贞路的生活实在是过不下去了。现在，德思礼一家知道他们不会一觉醒来变成蝙蝠了，哈利失去了惟一的武器。多比也许使哈利躲过了霍格沃茨的可怕劫难，可是照现在这样下去，他可能会饿死。
　
　　活板门一响，佩妮姨妈的手从洞口推进来一碗罐头汤。哈利早就饿得肚子疼了，赶紧跳下床捧起那只碗。汤是冰凉的，可他一口气喝了半碗。然后他走到海德薇的笼子旁，把碗底那几根泡了水的蔬菜倒进它空空的食盘里。它竖起羽毛，充满厌恶地看了他一眼。
　
　　“别把你的鸟嘴翘得老高，我们只有这些。”哈利板着脸说。他把空碗放回活板门旁，重新躺到床上，感觉比喝汤前更饿了。假设他四星期后还活着，却没去霍格沃茨报到，那会怎么样呢？他们会不会派人来调查他为什么没回去？他们能使德思礼一家放他走吗？屋里黑下来了，哈利精疲力竭，饥肠辘辘，脑子里翻来覆去地转着那些没有答案的问题。他不知不觉睡着了，睡得很不安稳。
　
　　他梦见自己被放在动物园展览，笼子上的卡片写着“小巫师”。人们隔着铁栅栏看他，他躺在稻草上，饿得奄奄一息。他在人群中看到了多比的面孔，忙喊他来救他，可多比叫道：“哈利波特在那儿是安全的，先生！”说完就消失了。接着他又看到德思礼一家，达力摇着铁笼栏杆嘲笑他。
　
　　“住手，”哈利含糊不清地说道，那嘎啦嘎啦的声音震动着他疼痛的神经，“别吵我……停下……我想睡觉……”
　
　　他睁开眼，月光从窗栅间照进来，有人隔着铁栅栏瞪视着他：一个雀斑脸、红头发、长鼻子的人。罗恩韦斯莱正在哈利的窗户外面。

　第三章　陋居
　
　

　
　　“罗恩！”哈利轻声叫道，蹑手蹑脚地走到窗前，把窗户推上去，这样他们好隔着铁栅栏说话。“罗恩，你怎么——这是——？”
　
　　看清眼前的景象之后，哈利张大了嘴巴。罗恩正从一辆青绿色轿车的后车窗探身看着他，轿车停在半空中，罗恩的那对双胞胎哥哥弗雷德和乔治坐在前排，朝他咧嘴笑着。
　
　　“怎么样，哈利？怎么回事？”罗恩说，“你为什么一直不给我回信？我邀请了你十二次，然后爸爸回来说你在麻瓜面前使用魔法，受到了警告……”
　
　　“不是我——他怎么知道的？”
　
　　“他在部里工作。”罗恩说，“你知道我们不能在校外使用魔法——”
　
　　“你说得倒好听。”哈利盯着那辆悬空的汽车说。
　
　　“哦，这不算，”罗恩说，“我们只是借用，这是爸爸的车，我们没有对它施魔法。可是你在同你住在一起的麻瓜面前使用魔法……”
　
　　“我跟你说了，我没有——可是现在没时间解释。你能不能跟学校说一声，德思礼一家把我关起来了，不让我回学校。我显然不能用魔法逃出去，因为部里会认为我三天里两次使用魔法，所以——”
　
　　“别废话了，”罗恩说，“我们是来接你回家的。”
　
　　“可你们也不能用魔法——”
　
　　“我们不需要，”罗恩把头朝前排一摆，笑着说道，“你忘了我和谁在一起了。”
　
　　弗雷德扔给哈利一截绳子，“把它系在铁栅栏上。”
　
　　“要是德思礼一家人醒过来，我就没命了。”哈利说着，把绳子牢牢系在一根铁条上，弗雷德发动了汽车。
　
　　“别担心，”弗雷德说，“靠后站。”
　
　　哈利退到阴影里，靠近海德薇。它似乎也知道事关重大，在笼子里一动也不动。汽车马达声越来越响，突然嘎啦啦一声，铁栅栏被连根拔起，弗雷德开车笔直朝天上冲去——哈利跑到窗前，看见窗栅在离地面几英尺的地方晃荡着。罗恩喘着粗气把它拽进车里。哈利担心地听了听，德思礼他们的卧室里没什么动静。
　
　　窗栅被安全地放到罗恩旁边的座位上，弗雷德把车倒回来，尽可能靠近哈利的窗户。
　
　　“上车。”罗恩说。
　
　　“可我上学的东西……魔杖……飞天扫帚……”
　
　　“在哪儿？”
　
　　“锁在楼梯下的暗柜里，我出不了门——”
　
　　“那好办，”坐在驾驶座旁边的乔治说，“闪开点儿，哈利。”
　
　　弗雷德和乔治小心地从窗户爬进哈利的房间。乔治从口袋里掏出一只普通的发夹，开始撬锁。就得他们才行，哈利想。
　
　　“许多巫师认为学这种麻瓜的把戏是浪费时间，”弗雷德说，“可我们觉得这也是一门技术，虽然慢了点。”
　
　　只听咔哒一声轻响，门一下开了。
　
　　“现在——我们去拿你的箱子——你赶快捡点你要用的东西，递给罗恩。”乔治小声说。
　
　　“当心最底下一层楼梯，会响的。”哈利小声叮嘱，双胞胎消失在黑暗的楼梯口。
　
　　哈利在屋里跑来跑去，收拾了一些东西从窗口递给罗恩，然后去帮弗雷德和乔治抬箱子。哈利听到弗农姨父咳了一声。
　
　　三个人气喘吁吁，终于把箱子抬到了楼上，又一直抬到哈利房间的窗口。弗雷德爬回车里，和罗恩一起拉，哈利和乔治在屋里推，箱子一点儿一点儿地朝窗外滑动。
　
　　弗农姨父又咳了一声。
　
　　“再加把劲，”弗雷德一边拉一边喘着气说，“猛推一把……”哈利和乔治用肩膀猛力朝箱子撞去，箱子从窗口滑到汽车后座上。
　
　　“好啦，我们走吧。”乔治小声说。
　
　　可是当哈利爬上窗台时，身后突然响起一声尖厉的鸣叫，紧接着是弗农姨父的咆哮：“这该死的猫头鹰！”
　
　　“我忘了海德薇！”楼梯口的灯亮了，哈利迅速折回屋内，抓起海德薇的笼子，冲到窗前，把笼子交给罗恩。他正在重新爬上五斗橱时，弗农姨父捶响了那扇没锁好的门——门开了。一时间，弗农姨父在门口呆住了，然后他像一头发怒的公牛般大吼一声，扑向哈利，抓住了他的脚腕。罗恩、弗雷德和乔治抓住哈利的胳膊使劲往外拉。
　
　　“佩妮！”弗农姨父喊道，“他要跑了！他要跑了！”
　
　　韦斯莱兄弟拼命一拽，哈利的腿挣脱了弗农姨父的手掌。哈利钻进车里，撞上车门，罗恩马上喊道：“快踩油门，弗雷德！”汽车猛地向着月亮冲去。
　
　　哈利不敢相信——他自由了。他摇下车窗，晚风拍打着他的头发，女贞路的屋顶在下面渐渐缩小，弗农姨父、佩妮姨妈和达力还在窗口呆呆地探身望着。
　
　　“明年夏天见！”哈利喊道。韦斯莱兄弟哈哈大笑，哈利靠在椅背上，乐得合不拢嘴。
　
　　“把海德薇放出来吧，”他对罗恩说，“它可以跟在我们后面飞。它好久没舒展翅膀了。”
　
　　乔治把发夹递给罗恩，一会儿，海德薇快乐地飞出了车窗，像幽灵一样在他们旁边滑翔。
　
　　“可以告诉我们了吧，哈利？”罗恩迫不及待地问道，“到底发生了什么事情？”
　
　　哈利原原本本地向他们讲了多比、它给哈利的警告、被摔得一塌糊涂的堇菜布丁。他讲完后，车里好长时间一片沉默。
　
　　“很可疑。”弗雷德终于说。
　
　　“显然非常蹊跷，”乔治附和道，“他甚至不肯告诉你是谁在策划这些？”
　
　　“我想他是不能说。”哈利说，“我刚才说了，每次他快要吐露出什么时，就拿脑袋撞墙。”他看到弗雷德和乔治对视了一下。“怎么，你们认为他是在骗我？”哈利说。
　
　　“嗯，”弗雷德说，“这样说吧——家养小精灵的魔法也很了不得，但没有主人允许，他们一般不能使用魔法。我想多比是被人派来阻止你回霍格沃茨的，有人想捉弄你。你在学校有什么仇人吗？”
　
　　“有。”哈利和罗恩马上同声说。
　
　　“德拉科马尔福，”哈利解释说，“他恨我。”
　
　　“德拉科马尔福？”乔治转过身说，“是不是卢修斯马尔福的儿子？”
　
　　“大概是，这个姓不常见，对吧？”哈利说，“怎么啦？”
　
　　“我听爸爸说起过他，”乔治说，“卢修斯马尔福是神秘人的死党。”
　
　　“神秘人消失后，”弗雷德扭头看着哈利说，“卢修斯马尔福回来说那事儿与他无关，这是鬼话——爸爸猜他是神秘人的心腹。”
　
　　哈利听到过关于马尔福家的这些传言，所以他一点儿也不觉得惊奇。和马尔福比起来，达力简直是个忠厚懂事的男孩。
　
　　“我不知道马尔福家有没有小精灵……”哈利说。
　
　　“有小精灵的人家肯定是个古老的巫师家族，而且很富有。”弗雷德说。
　
　　“对，妈妈一直希望能有一个小精灵帮我们熨衣服，”乔治说，“可是我们只有阁楼上那个讨厌的食尸鬼和满花园的地精。小精灵是那种古老的大庄园和城堡里才有的，在我们家可找不到……”
　
　　哈利沉默了。德拉科马尔福用的东西总是最高级的，他家有的是魔币。他能想象出马尔福在一所大庄园住宅里趾高气扬地走来走去，派佣人去阻止哈利回霍格沃茨也很像是马尔福干的事情。哈利把多比的话当真，是不是太傻了？
　
　　“不管怎么说，我很高兴我们来接你。”罗恩说，“你一封信都不回，我真着急了。一开始我以为是埃罗尔出了问题——”
　
　　“埃罗尔是谁？”
　
　　“我们的猫头鹰。它上了年纪了，以前送信时就累垮过。所以我想借赫梅斯
——”
　
　　“谁？”
　
　　“珀西当上了级长后，爸爸妈妈给他买的那只猫头鹰。”坐在前面的弗雷德说。
　
　　“可珀西不肯借给我，”罗恩说，“说他自己要用。”
　
　　“珀西今年暑假非常古怪，”乔治皱着眉头说，“他发了好多信，还老一个人关在屋里……我不明白，级长的徽章要擦那么多遍吗……你向西开得太远了，弗雷德。”他指着仪表盘上的一个指南针说。弗雷德把方向盘转了转。
　
　　“那你们把车开出来，你爸爸知道吗？”其实哈利已经猜到了实情。
　
　　“哦，不知道，”罗恩说，“他今晚加班。但愿我们能悄悄把车开进车库，不让我妈妈发现。”
　
　　“你爸爸在魔法部做什么工作？”
　
　　“他在一个最无聊的部门，”罗恩说，“禁止滥用麻瓜物品司。”
　
　　“什么？”
　
　　“就是禁止对麻瓜制造的东西施用魔法，怕它们万一又回到麻瓜的商店或家里。就像去年，有一个老巫婆死了，她的茶具被卖到一个古董店，一位女麻瓜买下了这套茶具，回家请朋友喝茶，真是一场噩梦——爸爸连着加了好几个星期的班。”
　
　　“怎么回事？”
　
　　“茶壶突然发起疯来，滚烫的茶水四处乱喷，一个男的住进了医院，夹方糖的钳子钳住了他的鼻子。爸爸忙得不可开交，司里只有他和一个叫珀金斯的老巫师。他们不得不用遗忘魔咒和各种办法来把它掩盖过去……”
　
　　“可你爸爸……这车子……”
　
　　弗雷德笑了。“是啊，爸爸迷上了和麻瓜有关的一切，我们的棚里堆满了麻瓜的东西。他把它们拆开，施上魔法，再重新组装起来。如果他到我家抄查，他只好逮捕自己。妈妈为这都快急疯了。”
　
　　“那是大路，”乔治透过挡风玻璃望着下面，说道，“我们十分钟就能到那儿……还好，天快亮了……”
　
　　东方地平线上出现了一抹淡淡的红霞。
　
　　弗雷德把车降低了一些，哈利看到了一片片田地和一簇簇树木组成的深色图案。
　
　　“我们在村子外面一点儿，”乔治说，“奥特里－圣卡奇波尔……”
　
　　车子越飞越低，树丛间一轮红日已经露头了。
　
　　“着陆！”弗雷德喊道，车子轻轻一震，触到了地面。他们降落在一个破破烂烂的车库旁边，周围是个小院子。哈利第一次打量着罗恩家的房子。
　
　　它以前似乎是个石头垒的大猪圈，后来在这里那里添建一些房间，垒到了几层楼那么高，歪歪扭扭，仿佛是靠魔法搭起来的（哈利提醒自己这很有可能）。红房顶上有四五根烟囱，屋前斜插着一个牌子，写着“陋居”。大门旁扔着一些高帮皮靴，还有一口锈迹斑斑的坩埚。几只褐色的肥鸡在院子里啄食。
　
　　“不怎么样吧。”罗恩说。
　
　　“太棒了。”哈利快乐地说，他想起了女贞路。
　
　　大家下了车。
　
　　“现在，我们悄悄地上搂，”弗雷德说，“等妈妈来叫我们吃早饭。那时罗恩连蹦带跳地跑下楼，说：‘妈妈，你看谁来了！’她看到哈利一定很高兴，谁也不会知道我们用了车。”
　
　　“好的。”罗恩说，“来吧，哈利，我睡在——”
　
　　罗恩的脸一下绿了，眼睛直勾勾地盯着房子的方向。其他三个人转过身去。
　
　　韦斯莱夫人从院子那头快步走来，鸡儿四散奔逃。令人惊奇的是，她这么个胖墩墩、慈眉善目的女人，居然会那么像一头露着利齿的老虎。
　
　　“啊。”弗雷德说。
　
　　“天哪。”乔治说。
　
　　韦斯莱夫人停在他们面前，叉着腰，挨个审视着一张张愧疚的面孔。她穿着一条印花的围裙，兜里插着一根魔杖。“行啊。”她说。
　
　　“早上好，妈妈。”乔治用他显然以为是轻松可爱的语调说。
　
　　“你们知道我有多着急吗？”韦斯莱夫人用令人心惊肉跳的低沉声音说。
　
　　“对不起，妈妈，可是我们必须——”
　
　　韦斯莱夫人的三个儿子都比她高，可她的怒火爆发时，他们都战战兢兢的。
　
　　“床空着！没留条子！车也没了……可能出了车祸……我都急疯了……你们想到过吗？……我这辈子从来没有……看你爸爸回来怎么收拾你们吧，比尔、查理和珀西从没出过这种事儿……”
　
　　“模范珀西。”弗雷德嘟哝道。
　
　　“你该学学他的样儿！”韦斯莱夫人戳着弗雷德的胸口嚷道，“你们可能摔死，可能被人看见，可能把你爸爸的饭碗给砸了——”
　
　　好像过了几个小时，韦斯莱夫人把嗓子都喊哑了，这才转向哈利，哈利后退了两步。
　
　　“我很高兴看到你，亲爱的哈利，”她说，“进屋吃点儿早饭吧。”
　
　　她转身回屋，哈利紧张地瞄了一眼罗恩，见罗恩点头，他才跟了上去。
　
　　厨房很小，相当拥挤，中间是一张擦得干干净净的木头桌子和几把椅子。哈利坐在椅子上，屁股只沾了一点边儿。他打量四周，以前他从没进过巫师的家。
　
　　对面墙上的挂钟只有一根针，没标数字，钟面上写着“煮茶、喂鸡、你要迟到了”之类的话。壁炉架上码着三层书：《给你的奶酪施上魔法》、《烤面包的魔法》、《变出一桌盛宴》等——都是魔法书。哈利简直怀疑自己的耳朵欺骗了他，他听见水池旁的旧收音机里说：“接下来是‘魔法时间’，由著名的女巫歌唱家塞蒂娜沃贝克表演。”
　
　　韦斯莱夫人在丁零当啷地做早饭。她漫不经心地把香肠扔进煎锅，不时气呼呼地瞪儿子们一眼，嘴里还嘟哝着一些话：“不知道你们是怎么想的。”“真是不敢相信。”
　
　　“我不怪你，亲爱的。”她把八九根香肠倒进哈利的盘里，安慰他说，“亚瑟和我也为你担心。昨天晚上我们还说要是你再不给罗恩回信，我们就亲自去接你。可是，”（她又往他盘子里加了三只荷包蛋）“开着一辆非法的汽车飞过半个国家——谁都可能看见你们——”
　
　　她用魔杖朝水池里的碗碟随意一点，那些碗碟就自己清洗起来，叮叮当当的声音像是一种背景音乐。
　
　　“情况很不好，妈妈！”弗雷德说。
　
　　“吃饭的时候不要说话！”韦斯莱夫人厉声说。
　
　　“他们不给他饭吃，妈妈！”乔治说。
　
　　“你也闭嘴！”韦斯莱夫人说，可是她动手给哈利切面包涂黄油时，脸上的表情已稍稍温和了一些。
　
　　这时，一个穿着长睡衣的红头发小人跑进厨房，尖叫了一声，又跑了出去。
　
　　“金妮，”罗恩低声对哈利说，“我妹妹。她一暑假都在念叨你。”
　
　　“可不，她想要你的签名呢，哈利。”弗雷德笑道，但一看到母亲的眼神，马上埋头吃饭，不再说话。几人闷声不响，不一会儿四只盘子便一扫而空。
　
　　“啊，好累呀，”弗雷德放下刀叉说，“我想我要去睡觉了——”
　
　　“不行，”韦斯莱夫人无情地说，“一晚上没睡是你自找的。现在你要给我去清除花园里的地精。它们又闹得不可收拾了。”
　
　　“哦，妈妈——”
　
　　“还有你们两个。”她瞪着罗恩和弗雷德说。她又对哈利说：“你可以去睡觉，亲爱的，你并没有叫他们开那辆破车。”
　
　　可哈利觉得一点儿也不困，忙说：“我帮罗恩一块儿干吧，我还没见过怎么清除地精呢——”
　
　　“真是个好孩子，可这是个枯燥的活儿。”韦斯莱夫人说，“现在，我们来看看洛哈特是怎么说的。”
　
　　她从壁炉架上抽出一本大厚书，乔治呻吟了一声。
　
　　“妈，我们知道怎么清除花园里的地精。”
　
　　哈利看到那本书的封面上用烫金的花体字写着：吉德罗洛哈特教你清除家庭害虫。书名下面有一幅大照片，是个长得很帅的巫师，弯曲的金发、明亮的蓝眼睛。魔法世界的照片都是会动的，照片上的这个巫师（哈利猜想他就是吉德罗洛哈特）放肆地朝他们直眨着眼睛。韦斯莱夫人笑吟吟地低头看着他。
　
　　“哦，他很了不起。”她说，“他了解他家里的害虫，这是一本好书……”
　
　　“妈妈崇拜他。”弗雷德低声说，但听得很清楚。
　
　　“别瞎说，弗雷德。”韦斯莱夫人的脸红了，“好啦，你们要是觉得自己比洛哈特懂得还多，那就去干吧。不过，如果我检查时发现花园里还有一个地精，你们就等着瞧吧。”
　
　　韦斯莱兄弟打着哈欠，发着牢骚，懒洋洋地走了出去，哈利跟在后面。花园很大，而且正是哈利心目中的花园的样子。德思礼一家肯定不会喜欢——这里杂草丛生，草也需要割了——但是墙根有许多盘根错节的树木围绕着，各种哈利从来没有见过的植物从每个花圃里蔓生出来，还有一个绿色的大池塘，里面有好多青蛙。
　
　　“你知道，麻瓜花园里也有地精。”穿过草坪时，哈利对罗恩说。
　
　　“啊，我见过麻瓜以为是地精的那种玩艺儿，”罗恩说，一面弯下腰把头埋进牡丹丛里，“像胖乎乎的小圣诞老人，扛着鱼竿……”一阵猛烈的挣扎声，牡丹枝子乱颤，罗恩直起腰来。“这就是地精。”他板着脸说。
　
　　“放开我！放开我！”地精尖叫道。
　
　　它一点儿也不像圣诞老人。小小的身体，皮肤粗糙坚韧，光秃秃的大圆脑袋活像一颗土豆。罗恩伸长手臂举着它，因为它用长着硬茧的小脚朝他又踢又蹬。他抓住它的脚腕，把它倒提起来。
　
　　“你得这样做。”他说，把地精举过头顶（“放开我！”），开始像甩套索那样划着大圈挥动手臂。看到哈利吃惊的表情，罗恩说：“不会伤害它们的——你得把它们转晕，这样它们就找不到地精洞了。”他手一松，地精飞出去二十英尺，扑通落在树篱后面的地里。
　
　　“差劲，”弗雷德说，“我保证能扔过那个树桩。”
　
　　哈利很快就不再同情那些地精了。他本来决定把他捉到的第一个地精轻轻丢在树篱外面，可是那地精感觉到对方的软弱，便用它那锋利的牙齿狠狠咬住了哈利的手指，他抖也抖不掉，最后——
　
　　“哇，哈利——你那一下准有五十英尺……”
　
　　花园中很快就地精满天飞了。
　
　　“你瞧，它们不大机灵，”乔治说，他一把抓住了五六个地精，“它们一听说在清除地精，就都跑过来看，到现在还没学聪明一点儿。”
　
　　不久，地里那一群地精排着稀稀拉拉的队伍走开了，耸着小肩膀。
　
　　“它们会回来的，”他们看着那些地精消失在田地那头的树篱后，罗恩说，“它们喜欢这儿……爸爸对它们太宽容了，他觉得它们很有趣……”
　
　　正在这时，大门砰的一响。
　
　　“回来了！”乔治说，“爸爸回来了！”
　
　　他们急忙穿过花园回屋。
　
　　韦斯莱先生瘫在厨房的椅子上，摘掉了眼镜，两眼紧闭着。他是个瘦瘦的男人，有点谢顶，可他剩下的那点头发和他孩子们的一样红。他穿着一件绿色的长袍，显得风尘仆仆。
　
　　“这一晚上真够呛！”他咕哝着，伸手去摸茶壶，孩子们都在他身边坐下。“抄查了九家。蒙顿格斯弗莱奇这老家伙想趁我转身时对我用魔法……”
　
　　韦斯莱先生喝了一大口茶，舒了口气。
　
　　“搜到了什么东西吗，爸爸？”弗雷德急切地问。
　
　　“只有几把会缩小的房门钥匙和一只会咬人的水壶。”韦斯莱先生打着哈欠说，“有一些很麻烦的东西，但不归我的部门管。在莫特莱克家发现了一些非常古怪的雪貂，他被带去问话了，可那是魔咒实验委员会的事儿，谢天谢地……”
　
　　“为什么有人要做会缩小的钥匙呢？”乔治说。
　
　　“捉弄那些麻瓜，”韦斯莱先生叹息道，“卖给麻瓜一把钥匙，最后钥匙缩到没有，要用时就找不到了……当然，这很难说服任何人，因为没有一个麻瓜会承认自己的钥匙越缩越小——他们会坚持说钥匙丢了。这些麻瓜，他们永远能对魔法视而不见，哪怕它明明摆在他们面前……可是被我们的人施了魔法的那些东西，你简直不能相信——”
　
　　“比如汽车，对吗？”
　
　　韦斯莱夫人走了进来，手里举着一根拨火棍，像举着一把剑。韦斯莱先生张大了嘴巴，心虚地看着他的妻子。
　
　　“汽——汽车，莫丽，亲爱的？”
　
　　“对，亚瑟，汽车。”韦斯莱夫人眼里冒着火，“想想看，一个巫师买了辆生锈的旧汽车，对他妻子说他只想把它拆开，看看内部的构造，可实际上他用魔法把它变成了一辆会飞的汽车。”
　
　　韦斯莱先生眨了眨眼。
　
　　“哦，亲爱的，我想你会发现他这样做并没有违法，尽管他也许应该事先把真相告诉妻子……法律中有个漏洞，你会发现……只要他不打算用它飞行，汽车会飞这一事实并不……”
　
　　“亚瑟韦斯莱，你在写法律的时候故意留了一个漏洞！”韦斯莱夫人嚷道，“就为了能在你的棚子里捣鼓那些麻瓜的东西！告诉你，今天早上哈利就是坐那辆你不打算用它飞行的汽车来的！”
　
　　“哈利？”韦斯莱先生茫然地问道，“哪个哈利？”他环顾四周，看到了哈利，马上跳起来。“老天爷，是哈利波特吗？见到你非常高兴，罗恩对我们讲了你的那么多——”
　
　　“你儿子昨晚开着那辆车，飞到哈列家把他接了过来！”韦斯莱夫人嚷道，“你有什么话说，嗯？”
　
　　“真的吗？”韦斯莱先生忙问，“它飞得好吗？我——我是说，”看到韦斯莱夫人眼里射出的怒火，他连忙改口，“这是很不对的，孩子们，非常非常不对
……”
　
　　韦斯莱夫人像牛蛙似的鼓起胸脯。
　
　　“让他们去吵吧，”罗恩悄悄对哈利说，“来，我带你去看我的卧室。”
　
　　他们溜出厨房，穿过窄窄的过道，来到一段高低不平的楼梯前。楼梯曲折盘旋，三层的楼梯口有一扇门半开着。哈利刚瞥见一双明亮的棕色眼睛在盯着他，门就咔哒一声关上了。
　
　　“是金妮，”罗恩说，“你不知道，她这样害羞真是不可思议，她平常从来不关门的——”
　
　　他们又爬了两层，来到一扇油漆剥落的房门前，门上有块小牌子写着“罗恩的房间”。
　
　　哈利走了进去，倾斜的天花板几乎碰到了他的头。他觉得有点晃眼，好像走进了一个大火炉，罗恩房里所有的东西看上去都是一种耀眼的橙黄色，床罩、墙壁，甚至天花板。然后哈利发现，原来罗恩把破旧墙纸上的几乎每寸地方都用海报贴住了，所有的海报上都是同样的七位女巫和男巫，穿着一色鲜艳的橙黄色长袍，扛着飞天扫帚，兴高采烈地挥手。
　
　　“你的魁地奇球队？”哈利说。
　
　　“查德里火炮队，”罗恩一指橙黄色的床罩，那上面鲜艳地印着两个巨大的字母Ｃ①，还有一枚疾飞的炮弹，“俱乐部中排名第九。”
　
　　罗恩的魔法课本零乱地堆在屋角，旁边是一些连环画册，好像都是《疯麻瓜马丁·米格斯历险记》。罗恩的魔杖搁在窗台上的一口大鱼缸上，缸里养了很多蛙卵。他的灰毛胖老鼠斑斑躺在鱼缸旁的一片阳光里打着呼噜。
　
　　哈利跨过地板上一副自动洗牌的纸牌，朝小窗外面望去。他看见在下面的地里，一群地精正在一个接一个地偷偷钻进韦斯莱家的树篱。然后他转过身来，发现罗恩正有点紧张地看着他，好像等着他的评价。
　
　　“小了点儿，”罗恩急急地说，“比不上你在麻瓜家的那间。我上面就是阁楼，里面住着那个食尸鬼，他老是敲管子，哼哼叽叽……”
　
　　可哈利愉快地笑了，说：“这是我见过的最好的房间。”罗恩的耳朵红了。
　

　
　　①“查德里火炮队”的英文是两个以Ｃ开头的单词。

　

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　　 CHAPTER FOUR
　　AT F L 0 V RR 11 $ H AND BLOTTS
　　ife at the Burrow was as different as possible from life on Privet Drive. The Dursleys liked everything neat and ordered; the Weasleys' house burst with the strange and unexpected. Harry got a shock the first time he looked in the mirror over the kitchen mantelpiece and it shouted, "Tuck your shirt in, scruffy!" The ghoul in the attic howled and dropped pipes whenever he felt things were getting too quiet, and small explosions from Fred and George's bedroom were considered perfectly normal. What Harry found most unusual about life at Ron's, however, wasn't the talking mirror or the clanking ghoul: It was the fact that everybody there seemed to like him.
　　Mrs. Weasley fussed over the state of his socks and tried to force him to eat fourth helpings at every meal. Mr. Weasley liked Harry to sit next to him at the dinner table so that he could bombard him with questions about life with Muggles, asking him to explain how things like plugs and the postal service worked.
　　42
　　"Fascinating." he would say as Harry talked him through using a telephone. "Ingenious, really, how many ways Muggles have found of getting along without magic."
　　Harry heard from Hogwarts one sunny morning about a week after he had arrived at the Burrow. He and Ron went down to breakfast to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny already sitting at the kitchen table. The moment she saw Harry, Ginny accidentally knocked her porridge bowl to the floor with a loud clatter. Ginny seemed very prone to knocking things over whenever Harry entered a room. She dived under the table to retrieve the bowl and emerged with her face glowing like the setting sun. Pretending he hadn't noticed this, Harry sat down and took the toast Mrs. Weasley offered him.
　　"Letters from school," said Mr. Weasley, passing Harry and Ron identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink. "Dumbledore already knows you're here, Harry - doesn't miss a trick, that man. You two've got them, too," he added, as Fred and George ambled in, still in their pajamas.
　　For a few minutes there was silence as they all read their letters. Harry's told him to catch the Hogwarts Express as usual from King's Cross station on September first. There was also a list of the new books he'd need for the coming year.
　　SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:
　　The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2
　　by Miranda Goshawk
　　Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart
　　4 ",3
　　Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart
　　Fred, who had finished his own list, peered over at Harry's.
　　"You've been told to get all Lockhart's books, too!" he said. "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan - bet it's a witch."
　　At this point, Fred caught his mother's eye and quickly busied himself with the marmalade.
　　"That lot won't come cheap," said George, with a quick look at his parents. "Lockhart's books are really expensive ......
　　"Well, we'll manage," said Mrs. Weasley, but she looked worried. "I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things secondhand."
　　"Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?" Harry asked Ginny.
　　She nodded, blushing to the roots of her flaming hair, and put her elbow in the butter dish. Fortunately no one saw this except Harry, because just then Ron's elder brother Percy walked in. He was already dressed, his Hogwarts prefect badge pinned to his sweater vest.
　　"Morning, all," said Percy briskly. "Lovely day."
　　He sat down in the only remaining chair but leapt up again almost immediately, pulling from underneath him a moulting, gray feather duster - at least, that was what Harry thought it was, until he saw that it was breathing.
　　* 44
　　"Errol!" said Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy and extracting a letter from under its wing. "Finally - he's got Hermione's answer. I wrote to her saying we were going to try and rescue you from the Dursleys."
　　He carried Errol to a perch just inside the back door and tried to stand him on it, but Errol flopped straight off again so Ron lay him on the draining board instead, muttering, "Pathetic." Then he ripped open Hermione's letter and read it out loud:
　　"`Dear Ron, and Harry if you're there,
　　"`I hope everything went all right and that Harry is okay and that you didn't do anything illegal to get him out, Ron, because that would get Harry into trouble, too. I've been really worried and if Harry is all right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be bet ter if you used a different owl because I think another delivery might finish your one off.
　　"'I'm very busy with schoolwork, of course'- How can she be?" said Ron in horror. "We're on vacation! - 'and we're going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don't we meet in Diago n Alley?
　　"`Let me know what's happening as soon as you can. Love from Hermione. "'
　　"Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too," said Mrs. Weasley, starting to clear the table. "What're you all up to today?"
　　Harry, Ron, Fred, and George were planning to go up the hill to a small paddock the Weasleys owned. It was surrounded by trees that blocked it from view of the village below, meaning that they could practice Quidditch there, as long as they didn't fly too high.
　　* 4$
　　They couldn't use real Quidditch balls, which would have been hard to explain if they had escaped and flown away over the village; instead they threw apples for one another to catch. They took turns riding Harry's Nimbus Two Thousand, which was easily the best broom; Ron's old Shooting Star was often outstripped by passing butterflies.
　　Five minutes later they were marching up the hill, broomsticks over their shoulders. They had asked Percy if he wanted to join them, but he had said he was busy. Harry had only seen Percy at mealtimes so far; he stayed shut in his room the rest of the time.
　　"Wish I knew what he was up to," said Fred, frowning. "He's not himself. His exam results came the day before you did; twelve O.WL.s and he hardly gloated at all."
　　"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," George explained, seeing Harry's puzzled look. "Bill got twelve, too. If we're not careful, we'll have another Head Boy in the family. I don't think I could stand the shame."
　　Bill was the oldest Weasley brother. He and the next brother, Charlie, had already left Hogwarts. Harry had never met either of them, but knew that Charlie was in Romania studying dragons and Bill in Egypt working for the wizard's bank, Gringotts.
　　"Dunno how Mum and Dad are going to afford all our school stuff this year," said George after a while. "Five sets of Lockhart books! And Ginny needs robes and a wand and everything ......
　　Harry said nothing. He felt a bit awkward. Stored in an underground vault at Gringotts in London was a small fortune that his parents had left him. Of course, it was only in the wizarding world that he had money; you couldn't use Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts
　　46
　　in Muggle shops. He had never mentioned his Gringotts bank account to the Dursleys; he didn't think their horror of anything connected with magic would stretch to a large pile of gold.
　　Mrs. Weasley woke them all early the following Wednesday. After a quick half a dozen bacon sandwiches each, they pulled on their coats and Mrs. Weasley took a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.
　　"We're running low, Arthur," she sighed. "We'll have to buy some more today... Ah well, guests first! After you, Harry dear!"
　　And she offered him the flowerpot.
　　Harry stared at them all watching him.
　　"W-what am I supposed to do?" he stammered.
　　"He's never traveled by Floo powder," said Ron suddenly. "Sorry, Harry, I forgot."
　　"Never?" said Mr. Weasley. "But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?"
　　"I went on the Underground -"
　　"Really?" said Mr. Weasley eagerly. "Were there escapators? How exactly -"
　　"Not now, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley. "Floo powder's a lot quicker, dear, but goodness me, if you've never used it before -"
　　"He'll be all right, Mum," said Fred. "Harry, watch us first."
　　He took a pinch of glittering powder out of the flowerpot, stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the flames.
　　With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than Fred, who stepped right into it, shouted, "Diagon Alley!" and vanished.
　　* 41
　　"You must speak clearly, dear," Mrs. Weasley told Harry as George dipped his hand into the flowerpot. "And be sure to get out at the right grate ......
　　"The right what?" said Harry nervously as the fire roared and whipped George out of sight, too.
　　"Well, there are an awful lot of wizard fires to choose from, you know, but as long as you've spoken clearly -"
　　"He'll be fine, Molly, don't fuss," said Mr. Weasley, helping himself to Floo powder, too.
　　"But, dear, if he got lost, how would we ever explain to his aunt and uncle?"
　　"They wouldn't mind," Harry reassured her. "Dudley would think it was a brilliant joke if I got lost up a chimney, don't worry about that -"
　　"Well ... all right ... you go after Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley. "Now, when you get into the fire, say where you're going
　　"And keep your elbows tucked in," Ron advised.
　　"And your eyes shut," said Mrs. Weasley. "The soot -"
　　"Don't fidget," said Ron. "Or you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace -"
　　"But don't panic and get out too early; wait until you see Fred and George."
　　Trying hard to bear all this in mind, Harry took a pinch of Floo powder and walked to the edge of the fire. He took a deep breath, scattered the powder into the flames, and stepped forward; the fire felt like a warm breeze; he opened his mouth and immediately swallowed a lot of hot ash.
　　"D-Dia-gon Alley," he coughed.
　　48
　　It felt as though he was being sucked down a giant drain. He seemed to be spinning very fast - the roaring in his ears was deafening -he tried to keep his eyes open but the whirl of green flames made him feel sick - something hard knocked his elbow and he tucked it in tightly, still spinning and spinning - now it felt as though cold hands were slapping his face - squinting through his glasses he saw a blurred stream of fireplaces and snatched glimpses of the rooms beyond - his bacon sandwiches were churning inside him - he closed his eyes again wishing it would stop, and then
　　He fell, face forward, onto cold stone and felt the bridge of his glasses snap.
　　Dizzy and bruised, covered in soot, he got gingerly to his feet, holding his broken glasses up to his eyes. He was -,cite alone, but where he was, he had no idea. All he could tell was that he was standing in the stone fireplace of what looked like a large, dimly lit wizard's shop - but nothing in here was ever likely to be on a Hogwarts school list.
　　A glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a bloodstained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks stared down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lay upon the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. Even worse, the dark, narrow street Harry could see through the dusty shop window was definitely not Diagon Alley.
　　The sooner he got out of here, the better. Nose still stinging where it had hit the hearth, Harry made his way swiftly and silently toward the door, but before he'd got halfway toward it, two people appeared on the other side of the glass - and one of them was the
　　49
　　very last person Harry wanted to meet when he was lost, covered in soot, and wearing broken glasses: Draco Malfoy.
　　Harry looked quickly around and spotted a large black cabinet to his left; he shot inside it and pulled the doors closed, leaving a small crack to peer through. Seconds later, a bell clanged, and Malfoy stepped into the shop.
　　The man who followed could only be Draco's father. He had the same pale, pointed face and identical cold, gray eyes. Mr. Malfoy crossed the shop, looking lazily at the items on display, and rang a bell on the counter before turning to his son and saying, "Touch nothing, Draco."
　　Malfoy, who had reached for the glass eye, said, "I thought you were going to buy me a present."
　　"I said I would buy you a racing broom," said his father, drumming his fingers on the counter.
　　"What's the good of that if I'm not on the House team?" said Malfoy, looking sulky and bad-tempered. "Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. He's not even that good, it's just because he's famous ... famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead . . . ."
　　Malfoy bent down to examine a shelf full of skulls.
　　". . . everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick -"
　　"You have told me this at least a dozen times already," said Mr. Malfoy, with a quelling look at his son. "And I would remind you that it is not - prudent - to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear - ah, Mr. Borgin."
　　50
　　A stooping man had appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face.
　　"Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," said Mr. Borgin in a voice as oily as his hair. "Delighted - and young Master Malfoy, too - charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced -"
　　"I'm not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling," said Mr. Malfoy.
　　"Selling?" The smile faded slightly from Mr. Borgin's face.
　　"You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids," said Mr. Malfoy, taking a roll of parchment from his inside pocket and unraveling it for Mr. Borgin to read. "I have a few - ah - items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call ......"
　　Mr. Borgin fixed a pair of pince-nez to his nose and looked down the list.
　　"The Ministry wouldn't presume to trouble you, sir, surely?"
　　Mr. Malfoy's lip curled.
　　"I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act - no doubt that flea- bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it
　　Harry felt a hot surge of anger.
　　"- and as you see, certain of these poisons might make it appear -"
　　"I understand, sir, of course," said Mr. Borgin. "Let me see. . ."
　　"Can I have that?" interrupted Draco, pointing at the withered hand on its cushion.
　　51
　　"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" said Mr. Borgin, abandoning Mr. Malfoy's list and scurrying over to Draco. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir."
　　"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin," said Mr. Malfoy coldly, and Mr. Borgin said quickly, "No offense, sir, no offense meant -"
　　"Though if his grades don't pick up," said Mr. Malfoy, more coldly still, "that may indeed be all he is fit for -"
　　"It's not my fault," retorted Draco. "The teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger -"
　　"I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam," snapped Mr. Malfoy.
　　"Ha!" said Harry under his breath, pleased to see Draco looking both abashed and angry.
　　"It's the same all over," said Mr. Borgin, in his oily voice. "Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere -"
　　"Not with me," said Mr. Malfoy, his long nostrils flaring.
　　"No, sir, nor with me, sir," said Mr. Borgin, with a deep bow.
　　"In that case, perhaps we can return to my list," said Mr. Malfoy shortly. "I am in something of a hurry, Borgin, I have important business elsewhere today -"
　　They started to haggle. Harry watched nervously as Draco drew nearer and nearer to his hiding place, examining the objects for sale. Draco paused to examine a long coil of hangman's rope and to read, smirking, the card propped on a magnificent necklace of opals, Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed - Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date.
　　* 52
　　Draco turned away and saw the cabinet right in front of him. He walked forward - he stretched out his hand for the handle
　　"Done," said Mr. Malfoy at the counter. "Come, Draco -"
　　Harry wiped his forehead on his sleeve as Draco turned away.
　　"Good day to you, Mr. Borgin. I'll expect you at the manor tomorrow to pick up the goods."
　　The moment the door had closed, Mr. Borgin dropped his oily manner.
　　"Good day yourself, Mister Malfoy, and if the stories are true, you haven't sold me half of what's hidden in your manor ......
　　Muttering darkly, Mr. Borgin disappeared into a back room. Harry waited for a minute in case he came back, then, quietly as he could, slipped out of the cabinet, past the glass cases, and out of the shop door.
　　Clutching his broken glasses to his face, Harry stared around. He had emerged into a dingy alleyway that seemed to be made up entirely of shops devoted to the Dark Arts. The one he'd just left, Borgin and Burkes, looked like the largest, but opposite was a nasty window display of shrunken heads and, two doors down, a large cage was alive with gigantic black spiders. Two shabby-looking wizards were watching him from the shadow of a doorway, muttering to each other. Feeling jumpy, Harry set off, trying to hold his glasses on straight and hoping against hope he'd be able to find a way out of here.
　　An old wooden street sign hanging over a shop selling poisonous candles told him he was in Knockturn Alley. This didn't help, as Harry had never heard of such a place. He supposed he hadn't spoken clearly enough through his mouthful of ashes
　　back in the Weasleys' fire. Trying to stay calm, he wondered what to do.
　　"Not lost are you, my dear?" said a voice in his ear, making him jump.
　　An aged witch stood in front of him, holding a tray of what looked horribly like whole human fingernails. She leered at him, showing mossy teeth. Harry backed away.
　　"I'm fine, thanks," he said. "I'm just -"
　　"HARRY! What d'yeh think yer doin' down there?"
　　Harry's heart leapt. So did the witch; a load of fingernails cascaded down over her feet and she cursed as the massive form of Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, came striding toward them, beetle-black eyes flashing over his great bristling beard.
　　"Hagrid!" Harry croaked in relief. "I was lost - Floo powder -"
　　Hagrid seized Harry by the scruff of the neck and pulled him away from the witch, knocking the tray right out of her hands. Her shrieks followed them all the way along the twisting alleyway out into bright sunlight. Harry saw a familiar, snow-white marble building in the distance - Gringotts Bank. Hagrid had steered him right into Diagon Alley.
　　"Yer a mess!" said Hagrid gruffly, brushing soot off Harry so forcefully he nearly knocked him into a barrel of dragon dung outside an apothecary. "Skulkin' around Knockturn Alley, I dunno dodgy place, Harry - don' want no one ter see yeh down there -"
　　"I realized that," said Harry, ducking as Hagrid made to brush him off again. "I told you, I was lost - what were you doing down there, anyway?"
　　* 54
　　"I was lookin' fer a Flesh-Eatin' Slug Repellent," growled Hagrid. "They're ruinin' the school cabbages. Yer not on yer own?"
　　"I'm staying with the Weasleys but we got separated," Harry explained. "I've got to go and find them . . . ."
　　They set off together down the street.
　　"How come yeh never wrote back ter me?" said Hagrid as Harry jogged alongside him (he had to take three steps to every stride of Hagrid's enormous boots). Harry explained all about Dobby and the Dursleys.
　　"Lousy Muggles," growled Hagrid. "If I'd've known -"
　　"Harry! Harry! Over here!"
　　Harry looked up and saw Hermione Granger standing at the top of the white flight of steps to Gringotts. She ran down to meet them, her bushy brown hair flying behind her.
　　"What happened to your glasses? Hello, Hagrid - Oh, it's wonderful to see you two again - Are you coming into Gringotts, Harry?"
　　"As soon as I've found the Weasleys," said Harry.
　　"Yeh won't have long ter wait," Hagrid said with a grin.
　　Harry and Hermione looked around: Sprinting up the crowded street were Ron, Fred, George, Percy, and Mr. Weasley.
　　"Harry," Mr. Weasley panted. "We hoped you'd only gone one
　　grate too far . He mopped his glistening bald patch. "Molly's
　　frantic - she's coming now -"
　　"Where did you come out?" Ron asked.
　　"Knockturn Alley," said Hagrid grimly.
　　"Excellent." said Fred and George together.
　　"We've never been allowed in," said Ron enviously.
　　*55*
　　"I should ruddy well think not," growled Hagrid. Mrs. Weasley now came galloping into view, her handbag swing ing wildly in one hand, Ginny just clinging onto the other. "Oh, Harry - oh, my dear - you could have been any where -" Gasping for breath she pulled a large clothes brush out of her bag and began sweeping off the soot Hagrid hadn't managed to beat away. Mr. Weasley took Harry's glasses, gave them a tap of his wand, and returned them, good as new. "Well, gotta be off," said Hagrid, who was having his hand wrung by Mrs. Weasley ("Knockturn Alley! If you hadn't found him, Hagrid!"). "See yer at Hogwarts!" And he strode away, head and shoulders taller than anyone else in the packed street. "Guess who I saw in Borgin and Burkes?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione as they climbed the Gringotts steps. "Malfoy and his fa ther." "Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?" said Mr. Weasley sharply behind them. "No, he was selling =' "So he's worried," said Mr. Weasley with grim satisfaction. "Oh, I'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something ...... "You be careful, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley sharply as they were bowed into the bank by a goblin at the door. "That family's trou ble. Don't go biting off more than you can chew -" "So you don't think I'm a match for Lucius Malfoy?" said Mr. Weasley indignantly, but he was distracted almost at once by the sight of Hermione's parents, who were standing nervously at the counter that ran all along the great marble hall, waiting for Hermione to introduce them.
　　,5 s
　　"But you're Muggles!" said Mr. Weasley delightedly. "We must have a drink! What's that you've got there? Oh, you're changing Muggle money. Molly, look!" He pointed excitedly at the tenpound notes in Mr. Granger's hand.
　　"Meet you back here," Ron said to Hermione as the Weasleys and Harry were led off to their underground vaults by another Gringotts goblin.
　　The vaults were reached by means of small, goblin-driven carts that sped along miniature train tracks through the bank's underground tunnels. Harry enjoyed the breakneck journey down to the Weasleys' vault, but felt dreadful, far worse than he had in Knockturn Alley, when it was opened. There was a very small pile of silver Sickles inside, and just one gold Galleon. Mrs. Weasley felt right into the corners before sweeping the whole lot into her bag. Harry felt even worse when they reached his vault. He tried to block the contents from view as he hastily shoved handfuls of coins into a leather bag.
　　Back outside on the marble steps, they all separated. Percy muttered vaguely about needing a new quill. Fred and George had spotted their friend from Hogwarts, Lee Jordan. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were going to a secondhand robe shop. Mr. Weasley was insisting on taking the Grangers off to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink.
　　"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your schoolbooks," said Mrs. Weasley, setting off with Ginny. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!" she shouted at the twins' retreating backs.
　　Harry, Ron, and Hermione strolled off along the winding, cobbled street. The bag of gold, silver, and bronze jangling cheerfully
　　*57*
　　in Harry's pocket was clamoring to be spent, so he bought three large strawberry-and-peanut-butter ice creams, which they slurped happily as they wandered up the alley, examining the fascinating shop windows. Ron gazed longingly at a full set of Chudley Can non robes in the windows of Quality Quidditch Supplies until Hermione dragged them off to buy ink and parchment next door. In Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, they met Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, who were stocking up on Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks, and in a tiny junk shop full of bro ken wands, lopsided brass scales, and old cloaks covered in potion stains they found Percy, deeply immersed in a small and deeply boring book called Prefects Who Gained Power. `A study of Hogwarts prefects and their later careers, " Ron read aloud off the back cover. "That sounds fascinating . . . ."
　　"Go away," Percy snapped. "'Course, he's very ambitious, Percy, he's got it all planned out .... He wants to be Minister of Magic. . . " Ron told Harry and Hermione in an undertone as they left Percy to it. An hour later, they headed for Flourish and Blotts. They were by no means the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As they approached it, they saw to their surprise a large crowd jostling out side the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed
　　by a large banner stretched across the upper windows:
　　GILDEROY LOCKHART will be signing copies of his autobiography MAGICAL ME today 12:30 P.m. to 4:30 P.m.
　　"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!"
　　The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Mrs. Weasley's age. A harrassed-looking wizard stood at the door, saying, "Calmly, please, ladies .... Don't push, there ... mind the books, now . . . . "
　　Harry, Ron, and Hermione squeezed inside. A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. They each grabbed a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 and sneaked up the line to where the rest of the Weasleys were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Granger.
　　"Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Weasley. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair. "We'll be able to see him in a minute ......
　　Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes; his pointed wizard's hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair.
　　A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.
　　"Out of the way, there," he snarled at Ron, moving back to get a better shot. "This is for the Daily Prophet -"
　　"Big deal," said Ron, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.
　　Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He looked up. He saw Ron
　　*59*
　　and then he saw Harry. He stared. Then he leapt to his feet and positively shouted, "It can't be Harry Potter?"
　　The crowd parted, whispering excitedly; Lockhart dived forward, seized Harry's arm, and pulled him to the front. The crowd burst into applause. Harry's face burned as Lockhart shook his hand for the photographer, who was clicking away madly, wafting thick smoke over the Weasleys.
　　"Nice big smile, Harry," said Lockhart, through his own gleaming teeth. "Together, you and I are worth the front page."
　　When he finally let go of Harry's hand, Harry could hardly feel his fingers. He tried to sidle back over to the Weasleys, but Lockhart threw an arm around his shoulders and clamped him tightly to his side.
　　"Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly, waving for quiet. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!
　　"When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography -which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge-" The crowd applauded again. "He had no idea," Lockhart continued, giving Harry a little shake that made his glasses slip to the end of his nose, "that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
　　The crowd cheered and clapped and Harry found himself being
　　60
　　presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. Staggering slightly under their weight, he managed to make his way out of the limelight to the edge of the room, where Ginny was standing next to her new cauldron.
　　"You have these," Harry mumbled to her, tipping the books into the cauldron. "I'll buy my own -"
　　"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" said a voice Harry had no trouble recognizing. He straightened up and found himself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy, who was wearing his usual sneer.
　　"Famous Harry Potter," said Malfoy. "Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."
　　"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" said Ginny. It was the first time she had spoken in front of Harry. She was glaring at Malfoy.
　　"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" drawled Malfoy. Ginny went scarlet as Ron and Hermione fought their way over, both clutching stacks of Lockhart's books.
　　"Oh, it's you," said Ron, looking at Malfoy as if he were something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"
　　"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," retorted Malfoy. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."
　　Ron went as red as Ginny. He dropped his books into the cauldron, too, and started toward Malfoy, but Harry and Hermione grabbed the back of his jacket.
　　"Ron!" said Mr. Weasley, struggling over with Fred and George. "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."
　　61
　　"Well, well, well - Arthur Weasley."
　　It was Mr. Malfoy. He stood with his hand on Draco's shoulder, sneering in just the same way.
　　"Lucius," said Mr. Weasley, nodding coldly.
　　"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Mr. Malfoy. "All those raids ... I hope they're paying you overtime?"
　　He reached into Ginny's cauldron and extracted, from amid the glossy Lockhart books, a very old, very battered copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.
　　"Obviously not," Mr. Malfoy said. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"
　　Mr. Weasley flushed darker than either Ron or Ginny.
　　"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," he said.
　　"Clearly," said Mr. Malfoy, his pale eyes straying to Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who were watching apprehensively. "The company you keep, Weasley ... and I thought your family could sink no lower ='
　　There was a thud of metal as Ginny's cauldron went flying; Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spellbooks came thundering down on all their heads; there was a yell of, "Get him, Dad!" from Fred or George; Mrs. Weasley was shrieking, "No, Arthur, no!"; the crowd stampeded backward, knocking more shelves over; "Gentlemen, please - please!" cried the assistant, and then, louder than all
　　"Break it up, there, gents, break it up -"
　　62
　　Hagrid was wading toward them through the sea of books. In an instant he had pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopedia of Toadstools. He was still holding Ginny's old Transfiguration book. He thrust it at her, his eyes glittering with malice.
　　"Here, girl - take your book - it's the best your father can give you -" Pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip he beckoned to Draco and swept from the shop.
　　"Yeh should've ignored him, Arthur," said Hagrid, almost lifting Mr. Weasley off his feet as he straightened his robes. "Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that - no Malfoy's worth listenin' ter - bad blood, that's what it is - come on now - let's get outta here."
　　The assistant looked as though he wanted to stop them leaving, but he barely came up to Hagrid's waist and seemed to think better of it. They hurried up the street, the Grangers shaking with fright and Mrs. Weasley beside herself with fury.
　　"A fine example to set for your children . . . brawling in public . . . what Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought -"
　　"He was pleased," said Fred. "Didn't you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he'd be able to work the fight into his report - said it was all publicity -"
　　But it was a subdued group that headed back to the fireside in the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry, the Weasleys, and all their shopping would be traveling back to the Burrow using Floo powder. They said good-bye to the Grangers, who were leaving the pub for the Muggle street on the other side; Mr. Weasley started to ask
　　63
　　them how bus stops worked, but stopped quickly at the look on Mrs. Weasley's face.
　　Harry took off his glasses and put them safely in his pocket before helping himself to Floo powder. It definitely wasn't his favorite way to travel.

第四章　在丽痕书店
　
　

　
　　陋居的生活和女贞路的生活有着天壤之别。德思礼一家人喜欢一切都井井有条，韦斯莱家却充满神奇和意外。厨房壁炉架上的那面镜子就把哈利吓了一跳。他第一次照镜子时，镜子突然大叫起来：“把衬衫塞到裤腰里去，邋里邋遢！”阁楼上的食尸鬼只要觉得家里太安静了，就高声嚎叫，咣啷咣啷地敲管子。弗雷德和乔治卧室中小小的爆炸声被认为是完全正常的。但是在哈利看来，罗恩家的生活最不寻常的地方不是会说话的镜子，也不是敲敲打打的食尸鬼，而是这里所有的人好像都很喜欢他。
　
　　韦斯莱夫人为他补袜子，每顿饭都逼着他添四次。韦斯莱先生喜欢让哈利吃饭时坐在他身边，并一个劲儿地向哈利打听麻瓜的生活，问他插头和邮局是怎么回事。
　
　　“太妙了！”哈利给他讲完怎样使用电话之后，他叹道，“真是天才，麻瓜想出了多少不用魔法生活的办法啊。”
　
　　到陋居大约一星期后，在一个晴朗的早晨，哈利收到了霍格沃茨的来信。那天他和罗恩下楼吃早饭，发现韦斯莱夫妇和金妮已经坐在餐桌旁了。金妮一看见哈利，不小心把她的粥碗碰翻在地，弄出了很大的响声。好像每次哈利一进屋，金妮总要碰倒什么东西。她钻到桌子底下去捡碗，出来时脸红得像晚霞一样。哈利装做没看见，坐了下来，接过韦斯莱夫人递给他的面包片。
　
　　“学校来信了。”书斯莱先生说。哈利和罗恩都拿到了一个黄色羊皮纸的信封，上面的字是绿色的。“哈利，邓布利多已经知道你在这儿了——这个人啊，什么也瞒不过他。你们俩也有。”弗雷德和乔治慢慢地踱了进来，身上还穿着睡衣。
　
　　一时间没有人说话，大家各自看信。哈利的信让他九月一日仍旧从国王十字车站搭乘霍格沃茨特快列车。信里还列出了他这一年要用的新书的书单。
　
　　二年级学生要读：
　
　　《标准咒语（二级）》　米兰达戈沙克著
　　《与女鬼决裂》　吉德罗洛哈特著
　　《与食尸鬼同游》　吉德罗洛哈特著
　　《与母夜叉一起度假》　吉德罗洛哈特著
　　《与巨怪同行》　吉德罗洛哈特著
　　《与吸血鬼同船旅行》　吉德罗洛哈特著
　　《与狼人一起流浪》　吉德罗洛哈特著
　　《与西藏雪人在一起的一年》　吉德罗洛哈特著
　
　　弗雷德读完了他自己的单子，伸头来看哈利的。
　
　　“你也要买吉德罗洛哈特的书！”他说，“新来的黑魔法防御术课老师一定是他的崇拜者——没准是个女巫。”弗雷德看到他母亲的目光，赶忙低头专心吃他的橘子酱。
　
　　“那些书可不便宜，”乔治迅速地看了父母一眼说，“吉德罗洛哈特的书真够贵的……”
　
　　“哦，我们会有办法的，”韦斯莱夫人说，可是看上去有点发愁，“我想金妮的许多东西可以买二手货。”
　
　　“哦，你今年也要上霍格沃茨了？”哈利问金妮。
　
　　她点了点头，火红色头发的发根都红了。胳膊肘碰到了黄油盘里。幸好除了哈利之外没有别人看见，因为这时罗恩的哥哥珀西正好走了进来。他已经穿戴整齐，级长的徽章别在针织短背心上。
　
　　“大家早上好。”珀西轻快地说，“天气不错。”
　
　　他坐到仅剩的一张椅子上，但马上又跳了起来，从屁股下面拉出一个掉毛的灰鸡毛掸子——至少哈利以为那是个鸡毛掸子，随即发现它居然在呼吸。
　
　　“埃罗尔！”罗恩大叫起来。他接过珀西手里那只病恹恹的猫头鹰，从它翅膀下面抽出一封信。“它终于带来了赫敏的回信。我写信告诉她，我们要去德思礼家把你救出来。”
　
　　他把埃罗尔抱到后门旁的一根栖木跟前，想让它站在上面，可埃罗尔直往下掉。罗恩只好把它放在滴水板上，嘴里咕哝着“可怜可怜”。然后他撕开赫敏的信，大声读道：
　
　　亲爱的罗恩，还有哈利，如果你也在，祝一切都好，祝哈利平安，希望你们救他的时候没有做什么违法的事情，因为那也会给哈利惹麻烦的。我真是担心极了，要是哈利还好，请马上告诉我。不过你最好换一只猫头鹰，我想再送一回信你这只鸟就没命了。我当然在忙着做功课……
　
　　“她怎么可能？”罗恩大吃一惊，“现在是暑假啊！”——
　
　　我下星期三要去伦敦买课本。咱们在对角巷见面如何？尽快把你们的情况告诉我，好友，赫敏。
　
　　“正巧，我们也在那天去买。”韦斯莱夫人开始收拾桌子，“你们今天都有什么活动？”
　
　　哈利、罗恩、弗雷德和乔治打算到山上韦斯莱家的一块围场上去，那儿周围都是树，不会被下面村里的人看见。他们可以在那里练习打魁地奇，只要不飞得太高就行。但他们不能用真正的魁地奇球，要是不小心让它们飞到村子上空，那就说不清楚了，所以他们只是互相抛接苹果。他们轮流骑坐哈利的光轮2000，它比其他几人的扫帚都要好得多，罗恩的那把“流星”经常被蝴蝶撇在后面。
　
　　五分钟后，四个人扛着扫帚朝山上爬去。他们原想邀珀西一起去，可他说没空。到现在为止，哈利只在吃饭时才能看到珀西。
　
　　“我真想知道他在干什么，”弗雷德皱着眉头说，“他最近很反常。你来的前一天他拿到了考试成绩，十二个O．w．Ls证书，都没看出他怎么得意。”
　
　　“O．w．Ls代表普通巫师等级考试。”看到哈利不解的表情，乔治解释说，“比尔也得过十二个，如果我们不留神点儿，家里可能会再出现一个男生学生会主席，我可丢不起这份人。”
　
　　比尔是韦斯莱兄弟中的老大，他和老二查理都已离开了霍格沃茨。哈利从没见过他们，但知道查理在罗马尼亚研究龙，比尔在埃及为古灵阁，即巫师银行工作。
　
　　“不知道爸爸妈妈到哪里弄钱给我们买今年的学习用品，”乔治过了一会儿说，“五套洛哈特的书！金妮还需要长袍和魔杖什么的……”
　
　　哈利没有说话，他觉得有点尴尬。他父母留给他的一点可怜的财产，存在古灵阁的地下金库里。当然，他的钱只能在魔法世界里使用，你不能在麻瓜的商店里用加隆、西可和纳特买东西。哈利从没向德思礼一家提起他在古灵阁的存款，他认为他们虽然惧怕与魔法有关的一切，但这种恐惧大概不会扩展到一大堆金币上面。
　
　　到了下星期三，韦斯莱夫人一大早就把他们叫醒了。他们每人匆匆吃了五六块成肉三明治，然后穿好外套。韦斯莱夫人从厨房壁炉架上端起一只花盆，朝里面看着。
　
　　“不多了，亚瑟，”她叹了口气，“今天得去买点儿……好吧，客人先请！哈利，你先来！”
　
　　她把花盆送到他面前。
　
　　哈利愣住了，大家都看着他。
　
　　“我——我应该怎么做？”他结结巴巴地问。
　
　　“他没用过飞路粉旅行。”罗恩突然说，“对不起，哈利，我忘记了。”
　
　　“你没用过？”韦斯莱先生问道，“那你去年是怎么到对角巷去买学习用品的？”
　
　　“我坐地铁去的——”
　
　　“是吗？”韦斯莱先生兴致勃勃地问，“有电梯子吗？到底怎么——”
　
　　“现在别问了，亚瑟。”韦斯莱夫人说，“哈利用飞路粉要快得多，可是，天哪，要是你从前没用过——”
　
　　“他没问题的，妈妈。”弗雷德说，“哈利，先看我们怎么做。”
　
　　他从花盆里捏起一撮亮晶晶的粉末，走到火炉前，把粉末丢进火焰里。
　
　　呼的一声，炉火变得碧绿，升得比弗雷德还高。他径直走进火里，喊了一声“对角巷！”眨眼间就不见了。
　
　　“你必须把这几个字说清楚，孩子，”韦斯莱夫人对哈利说，乔治也把手伸进了花盆，“出来时千万别走错炉门……”
　
　　“别走错什么？”哈利紧张地问，火焰呼啸着蹿起，把乔治也卷走了。
　
　　“你知道，魔火有很多种，你必须选准，但只要你口齿清楚——”
　
　　“他不会有事的，莫丽，别紧张兮兮的。”韦斯莱先生说着，也取了一些飞路粉。
　
　　“可是亲爱的，如果他走丢了，我们怎么跟他的姨父姨妈交代啊？”
　
　　“他们不会着急的。”哈利安慰她说，“达力会觉得，我在烟囱里失踪是一个绝妙的笑话，您不用担心。”
　
　　“那……好吧……你在亚瑟后面走。”韦斯莱夫人说道，“记住，一走进火里，就说你要去哪儿——”
　
　　“胳膊肘夹紧。”罗恩教他。
　
　　“闭上眼睛，”韦斯莱夫人说，“有煤烟——”
　
　　“不要乱动，”罗恩说，“不然你可能从别的炉门跌出来——”
　
　　“但也不要慌里慌张，不要出来得太早，要等你看到了弗雷德和乔治。”
　
　　哈利拼命把这些都记在心里，伸手取了一撮飞路粉，走到火焰边上。他深深吸了一口气，把粉末撒进火里，向前走去。火焰像一股热风，他一张嘴，马上吸了一大口滚烫的烟灰。
　
　　“对——对角巷。”他咳着说。
　
　　他仿佛被吸进了一个巨大的插座孔。他的身子好像在急速旋转……耳旁的呼啸声震耳欲聋……他拼命想睁开眼睛，可是飞旋的绿色火焰让他感到眩晕……有什么坚硬的东西撞到了他的胳膊肘，他紧紧夹住双臂，还是不停地转啊转啊……现在好像有冰凉的手在拍打他的面颊……他眯着眼透过镜片看去，只见一连串炉门模糊地闪过，隐约能瞥见壁炉外的房间……咸肉三明治在他的胃里翻腾……他赶忙闭上眼，祈求快点停下来，然后——他脸朝下摔到了冰冷的石头地上，感觉他的眼镜片碎了。
　
　　他头晕目眩，皮肤青肿，满身煤灰，小心翼翼地爬起来，把碎裂的眼镜举到眼前。他是独自一人，然而这是什么地方呢，他不知道。他好像是站在一个宽敞而昏暗的巫师商店的石头壁炉前面——可是这里的东西似乎没有一样可能列在霍格沃茨学校的购物单上。
　
　　旁边一个玻璃匣里的垫子上，有一只枯萎的人手、一叠血迹斑斑的纸牌和一只呆滞不动的玻璃眼球。狰狞的面具在墙上朝下睨视，柜台上摆着各种各样的人骨，生锈的尖齿状的器械从天花板挂下来。更糟糕的是，哈利可以看出，满是灰尘的商店橱窗外那条阴暗狭窄的小巷，肯定不是对角巷。
　
　　要尽快离开这里。鼻子还火辣辣地痛，哈利迅速轻手轻脚地向门口走去，可是还没走到一半，门外出现了两个人——其中一个是哈利此刻最不想遇到的人：德拉科马尔福。啊，可不能让马尔福看到他迷了路，满身煤灰，戴着破眼镜。
　
　　哈利迅速朝四下一望，看到左边有一个黑色的大柜子，便闪身钻了进去，掩上门，只留了一条细缝。几秒钟后，铃声一响，马尔福走进了店里。
　
　　他身后的那个男人只能是他的父亲，也是那样苍白的尖脸，那样冷漠的灰眼睛。马尔福先生穿过店堂，懒洋洋地看着陈列的物品，摇响了柜台上的铃铛，然后转身对儿子说：“什么都别碰，德拉科。”
　
　　马尔福正要伸手摸那只玻璃眼球，他说：“我以为你要给我买件礼物呢。”
　
　　“我是说要给你买一把比赛用的扫帚。”他父亲用手指叩着柜台说。
　
　　“如果我不是学院队的队员，买扫帚有什么用？”马尔福气呼呼地说，“哈利波特去年得了一把光轮2000，邓布利多特许他代表格兰芬多学院比赛。他根本就不配，不过是因为他有些名气……因为他额头上有一个愚蠢的伤疤……”
　
　　马尔福弯腰仔细查看满满一个架子的头盖骨。
　
　　“……所有的人都觉得他那么优秀，了不起的哈利波特和他的伤疤，还有他的飞天扫帚……”
　
　　“你已经跟我讲了至少有十遍了，”马尔福先生看了儿子一眼，制止他再说下去，“我要提醒你，当多数人都把哈利波特看成是赶跑了魔头的英雄时，你不装作喜欢他是不——不明智的。——啊，博金先生。”
　
　　一个躬腰驼背的男人出现在柜台后面，用手向后捋着油光光的头发。
　
　　“马尔福先生，再次见到您真让人愉快。”博金先生用和他的头发一样油滑的腔调说道，“非常荣幸——还有马尔福少爷——欢迎光临。我能为您做些什么？我一定要给您看看，今天刚进的，价钱非常公道——”
　
　　“我今天不买东西，博金先生，我是来卖东西的。”马尔福先生说。
　
　　“卖东西？”博金先生脸上的笑容稍稍减少了一些。
　
　　“你想必听说了，部里加紧了抄查。”马尔福先生说着，从衣服内侧的口袋里摸出一卷羊皮纸，展开给博金先生看。“我家里有一些——啊——可能给我造成不便的东西，如果部里来……”
　
　　博金先生戴上一副夹鼻眼镜，低头看着清单。“想来部里不会去打搅您吧，先生？”
　
　　马尔福先生撇了撇嘴。“目前还没有来过。马尔福的名字还有一点威望，可是部里越来越好管闲事了。据说要出台一部新的《麻瓜保护法》——一定是那个邋里邋遢的蠢货亚瑟韦斯莱在背后搞鬼，他最喜欢麻瓜——”
　
　　哈利觉得怒火中烧。
　
　　“——你知道，这上面的有些毒药可以让它看上去——”
　
　　“我明白，先生，这是当然的。”博金先生说，“让我看看……”
　
　　“能把那个给我看看吗？”德拉科指着垫子上那只枯萎的人手问道。
　
　　“啊，光荣之手！”博金先生叫道，丢下马尔福先生的单子，奔到德拉科面前。“插上一支蜡烛，只有拿着它的人才能看见亮光！这是小偷和强盗最好的朋友！您的儿子很有眼力，先生。”
　
　　“我希望我的儿子比小偷和强盗有出息一点儿，博金。”马尔福先生冷冷地说。
　
　　博金先生马上说：“对不起，先生，我没有那个意思——”
　
　　“不过要是他的成绩没有起色，”马尔福先生语气更冷地说，“他也许只能干那些勾当。”
　
　　“这不是我的错，”德拉科顶嘴说，“老师们都很偏心，那个赫敏·格兰杰
——”
　
　　“一个非巫师家庭出身的女孩子回回考试都比你强，我还以为你会感到羞耻呢。”马尔福先生怒气冲冲地说。
　
　　“哈哈！”看到德拉科又羞又恼的样子，哈利差点笑出声来。
　
　　“到处都是这样，”博金先生用他那油滑的腔调说，“巫师血统越来越不值钱了。”
　
　　“我不这样认为。”马尔福先生说，他的长鼻孔扇动着，喷着粗气。
　
　　“我也不，先生。”博金先生深鞠一躬说。
　
　　“那么，也许我们可以接着看我的单子了吧。”马尔福先生不耐烦地说道，“我时间不多，博金，今天我还有重要的事情要办。”
　
　　他们开始讨价还价，德拉科随心所欲地观看店里出售的物品，眼看着就要接近哈利的藏身之处，哈利的心提了起来。德拉科停下来研究一根长长的绞索，又傻笑着念一串华贵的蛋白石项链上面的牌子：当心：切勿触摸，已被施咒——已经夺走了十九位麻瓜的生命。
　
　　德拉科转过身，看到了那个柜子。他走上前……手伸向了门把手……
　
　　“成了，”马尔福先生在柜台那边说，“过来，德拉科！”
　
　　德拉科转身走开了，哈利用衣袖擦了擦额头。
　
　　“再见，博金先生，明天我在家中等你来拿货。”
　
　　门一关，博金先生立刻收起了他那谄媚的腔调。“再见吧，马尔福先生，如果那些传说是真的，你卖给我的东西还不到你宅中私藏的一半……”博金先生愤愤地嘀咕着，走进后房去了。
　
　　哈利等了一会儿，怕他还会出来。然后，他尽可能悄无声息地钻出柜子，走过那些玻璃柜台，溜出了店门。
　
　　他把破眼镜摁在眼睛上，往四下里张望，眼前是一条肮脏的小巷，两旁似乎全是黑魔法的店铺。他刚刚出来的那一家叫博金·博克，好像是最大的，但对面一家的橱窗里阴森森地陈列着一些萎缩的人头。隔着两家门面，一个大笼子里黑压压地爬满巨大的黑蜘蛛。在一个阴暗的门洞里，有两个衣衫褴褛的巫师正看着他窃窃私语。哈利感到毛骨悚然，要赶快离开那里。他一路努力把眼镜片扶正，心中抱着一线希望，但愿能摸出去。
　
　　一家卖毒蜡烛的店铺前挂着块旧木头街牌，告诉他这是翻倒巷。这没有用，哈利从来都没听说过这个地方。他想，他可能是在韦斯莱家火炉里时吞了满嘴烟灰，没有把地名说清楚。他竭力保持镇静，思索着该怎么办。
　
　　“不是迷路了吧，亲爱的？”耳边忽然响起一个声音，把他吓了一跳。
　
　　一个老巫婆站在他面前，托着一碟酷似整片死人指甲的东西。她乜斜着他，露出长着苔藓的牙齿，哈利慌忙后退。
　
　　“我很好，谢谢。”他说，“我只是——”
　
　　“哈利！你在这里干什么？”
　
　　哈利的心怦怦跳起来，那巫婆也惊得一跳，指甲纷纷洒落到她的脚背上。她诅咒着，只见海格，那魁梧的狩猎场看守，正大步向他们走来，甲虫般黑亮的眼睛在大胡子上面炯炯放光。
　
　　“海格！”哈利心里一宽，沙哑着嗓子喊道，“我迷路了……飞路粉……”
　
　　海格揪住哈利的后脖颈把他从老巫婆身边拉开，然后一挥手打落了她手里的盘子。她的尖叫声一直追着他们穿过曲曲折折的小巷，直到他们来到明亮的阳光下。哈利远远地就看到了一个熟悉的雪白大理石建筑：古灵阁银行。海格直接把他带到了对角巷。
　
　　“看你这样子！”海格粗声粗气地说，用力给哈利掸去身上的煤灰，重手重脚的，差点把他搡进一家药店外的龙粪桶里。“在翻倒巷里瞎转，你不知道——那不是个好地方，哈利，别让人看见你在那儿——”
　
　　“我也看出来了，”哈利见海格又要来替他掸灰，连忙躲开，“跟你说我迷路了嘛——你在那儿干什么？”
　
　　“我在找一种驱赶食肉鼻涕虫的药，”海格粗声粗气地说，“它们快把学校的卷心菜糟蹋光了。你不是一个人吧？”
　
　　“我现在住在韦斯莱家，可是我们走散了，”哈利解释说，“我得去找他们
……”
　
　　他们一起朝前走去。
　
　　“你怎么一直不给我回信？”海格问，哈利在他身边一溜小跑（他三步才能赶上海格那双大皮靴的一步）。哈利把多比和德思礼一家的情况都跟他说了。
　
　　“可恶的麻瓜，”海格咆哮道，“要是我知道——”
　
　　“哈利！哈利！快过来！”
　
　　哈利一抬头，看见赫敏格兰杰站在古灵阁的白台阶上。她跑下来迎接他们，蓬松的棕发在身后飞扬。
　
　　“你的眼镜怎么了？你好，海格……哦，又看到你们俩了，真是太好了……你去古灵阁吗，哈利？”
　
　　“我找到韦斯莱一家之后就去。”哈利说。
　
　　“你不用找多久的。”海格笑道。
　
　　哈利和赫敏环顾四周，看见罗恩、弗雷德、乔治、珀西和韦斯莱先生正从拥挤的街上快步跑来。
　
　　“哈利，”韦斯莱先生喘着气说，“我们但愿你只错过了一个炉门……”他擦了擦亮晶晶的秃顶。
　
　　“莫丽都急疯了——她马上就来。”
　
　　“你在哪儿出来的？"罗恩问。
　
　　“翻倒巷。”海格板着脸说。
　
　　“太棒了！”弗雷德和乔治一起叫了起来。
　
　　“大人们从来不让我们去的。”罗恩羡慕地说。
　
　　“我想最好别去。”海格粗声说。
　
　　韦斯莱夫人急急地向这边跑来，一只手拎着的手提包剧烈地摆动着；金妮拉着她的另一只手吃力地跟着。
　
　　“哦，哈利——哦，亲爱的——你走到哪儿都可能的啊——”她上气不接下气地从包里拿出一把大衣刷，开始掸扫海格没拍掉的煤灰。韦斯莱先生接过哈利的眼镜，用魔杖一点，还给他的眼镜像新的一样。
　
　　“唔，我得走了。”海格说，他的手正被韦斯莱夫人紧紧攥着（“翻倒巷！多亏你发现了他，海格！”）。“霍格沃茨见！”他大步流星地走了，比街上所有的人都高出一个头和一个肩膀。
　
　　“你们猜我在博金·博克店里看到谁了？”走上古灵阁的台阶时，哈利问罗恩和赫敏。“马尔福和他爸爸。”
　
　　“卢修斯马尔福买什么东西了吗？”韦斯莱先生在他们身后警惕地问。
　
　　“没有，他去卖东西了。”
　
　　“他害怕了，”韦斯莱先生严肃而满意地说，“哦，我真想抓到卢修斯马尔福的证据……”
　
　　“当心点，亚瑟。”韦斯莱夫人告诫他说，一位小妖躬着身子把他们引进银行。“那一家人可不好惹，别去咬你啃不动的骨头。”
　
　　“你认为我斗不过马尔福？”韦斯莱先生愤愤地说，可是他的注意力马上被转移了，因为他看见赫敏的父母正局促地站在横贯整个大理石大厅的柜台旁，等着赫敏给他们作介绍。
　
　　“啊，你们是麻瓜！”韦斯莱先生高兴地说，“咱们一定要喝一杯去！你手里拿的那个是什么？哦，你们在兑换麻瓜货币。莫丽，你瞧！”他兴奋地指着格兰杰先生手里那张十英镑的钞票说。
　
　　“一会儿还在这儿见。”罗恩对赫敏说，韦斯莱一家和哈利由另一个古灵阁小妖领着，前往他们的地下金库。
　
　　由小妖驾驶的小车在小型铁轨上穿梭飞驰，穿过银行的地下隧道到达各个保险库。哈利觉得那一路风驰电掣的感觉十分过瘾，可是当韦斯莱家的保险库打开时，他感到比在翻倒巷时还可怕。里面是很不起眼的一堆银西可，只有一块金加隆。韦斯莱夫人连边边角角都摸过了，最后把所有的硬币都拨拉到她的包里。到了他自己的保险库，哈利感觉更难堪了。他尽量不让别人看到，匆匆地把几小把硬币扫进一个皮包。
　
　　他们在银行外的大理石台阶上分手了。珀西嘀咕着要买一根新羽毛笔，弗雷德和乔治看到了他们在霍格沃茨学校的朋友李乔丹。韦斯莱夫人和金妮要去一家卖旧袍子的商店。韦斯莱先生坚持要带格兰杰一家去破釜酒吧喝一杯。
　
　　“一小时后在丽痕书店集合，给你们买课本。”韦斯莱夫人一面交代，一面带着金妮动身离开。“不许去翻倒巷！”她冲着双胞胎兄弟的背影喊。
　
　　哈利、罗恩和赫敏在卵石铺成的曲折街道上溜达。那些金币、银币和铜币在哈利兜里愉决地响着，大声要求把它们花掉。于是他买了三块大大的草莓花生黄油冰淇淋。他们惬意地吃着冰淇淋在巷子里闲逛，浏览着琳琅满目的商店橱窗。罗恩恋恋不舍地盯着魁地奇精品店橱窗里陈列的全套查德里火炮队袍服，直到赫敏拉他们到旁边一家店铺里去买墨水和羊皮纸。在蹦跳嬉闹魔法笑话商店，他们碰到了弗雷德、乔治和李乔丹。他们在大量购买“费力拔博士的自动点火、见水开花神奇烟火”。在一家堆满破破烂烂的魔杖、摇摇晃晃的铜天平和药渍斑斑的旧斗篷的旧货铺里，他们发现珀西正在聚精会神地读一本非常枯燥的书：《级长怎样获得权力》。
　
　　“霍格沃茨的级长和他们离校后从事的职业，”罗恩大声念着封底的说明，“听起来蛮吸引人的……”
　
　　“走开。”珀西没好气地说。
　
　　“当然啦，珀西是有野心的，他都计划好了……他要当魔法部长……”他们离开珀西时，罗恩低声对哈利和赫敏说。
　
　　一小时后，他们向丽痕书店走去，去书店的人远不止他们几个。他们惊讶地发现店门外挤了一大群人，都想进去。楼上拉出了一条大横幅：吉德罗洛哈特签名出售自传《会魔法的我》，今日下午12：30－4：30
　
　　“我们可以当面见到他啦！”赫敏叫起来，“我是说，书单上的书几乎全是他写的呀！”
　
　　人群中似乎大部分都是韦斯莱夫人这个年纪的女巫。一位面色疲惫的男巫站在门口说：“女士们，安静……不要拥挤……当心图书……”
　
　　哈利、罗恩和赫敏从人缝里钻了进去。弯弯曲曲的队伍从门口一直排到书店后面，吉德罗洛哈特就在那里签名售书。他们每人抓了一本《与女鬼决裂》，偷偷跑到韦斯莱一家和格兰杰夫妇排队的地方。
　
　　“哦，你们可来了，太好了。”韦斯莱夫人说。她呼吸急促，不停地拍着头发。“我们一会儿就能见到他了……”
　
　　渐渐地，他们望见吉德罗洛哈特了。他坐在桌子后面，被他自己的大幅照片包围着，照片上的那些脸全都在向人群眨着眼睛，闪露着白得耀眼的牙齿。真正的洛哈特穿着件跟勿忘我花一样蓝色的长袍，与他的蓝眼睛正好相配。尖顶巫师帽俏皮地歪戴在一头鬈发上。
　
　　一个脾气暴躁的矮个子男人举着一个黑色的大照相机，在他前前后后跳来跳去地拍照。每次闪光灯炫目地一闪，相机里便喷出一股股紫色的烟雾。
　
　　“闪开，”他对罗恩嚷道，一面后退着选取一个更好的角度，“这是给《预言家日报》拍的。”
　
　　“真了不起。”罗恩揉着被那人踩痛的脚背说。
　
　　吉德罗洛哈特听到了。他抬起头来，看到了罗恩，接着又看到了哈利。他盯着哈利看了一会儿，跳起来喊道：“这不是哈利波特吗？”
　
　　人群让开一条路，兴奋地低语着。洛哈特冲上前来，抓住哈利的胳膊，把他拉到前面，全场爆发出一阵掌声。哈利脸上发烧，洛哈特握着他的手让摄影师拍照。矮个子男人疯狂地连连按动快门，阵阵浓烟飘到韦斯莱一家身上。
　
　　“笑得真漂亮，哈利。”洛哈特自己也展示着一口晶亮的牙齿，“咱们俩可以上第一版。”
　
　　当他终于放开哈利的手时，哈利手指都麻木了。他想溜回韦斯莱一家那里，可洛哈特的一只胳膊还搭在他肩上，把他牢牢夹在身边。
　
　　“女士们先生们，”洛哈特大声说，挥手让大家安静，“这是多么不同寻常的一刻！我要借这个绝妙的场合宣布一件小小的事情，这件事我压了一段时间一直没有说。”
　
　　“年轻的哈利今天走进丽痕书店时，只是想买我的自传——我愿意当场把这本书免费赠送给他——”又是一片掌声。“——可他不知道，”洛哈特继续说，并摇晃了哈利一下，弄得他眼镜滑到了鼻尖上，“他不久将得到比拙作《会魔法的我》更有价值的东西，实际上，他和他的同学们将得到一个真正的、会魔法的我。不错，女士们先生们，我无比愉快和自豪地宣布，今年九月，我将成为霍格沃茨魔法学校的黑魔法防御术课教师！”
　
　　人群鼓掌欢呼，哈利发现自己拿到了吉德罗洛哈特的全套著作，沉得他走路都有点摇晃。他好不容易才走出公众注意的中心，来到墙边，金妮正站在她的新坩埚旁。
　
　　“这些给你，”哈利把书倒进坩埚里，含糊地对她说，“我自己再买——”
　
　　“你一定很喜欢这样吧，波特？”一个他决不会听错的声音说道。哈利直起腰，与德拉科马尔福打了个照面，对方脸上挂着惯常的那种嘲讽人的笑容。
　
　　“著名的哈利波特，”马尔福说，“连进书店都不能不成为头版新闻。”
　
　　“别胡说，他不想那样！”金妮说。这是她第一次当着哈利的面主动说话，对马尔福怒目而视。
　
　　“波特，你找了个女朋友！”马尔福拖长着音调说。金妮的脸红了，罗恩和赫敏挤过来，每人都抱着一摞洛哈特的书。
　
　　“哦，是你，”罗恩看着马尔福，仿佛看到了鞋底上什么恶心的东西，“你在这儿看到哈利一定很吃惊吧，嗯？”
　
　　“更让我吃惊的是，居然看到你也进了商店，韦斯莱。”马尔福反唇相讥，“我猜，为了买那些东西，你爸爸妈妈下个月要饿肚子了吧。”
　
　　罗恩涨红了脸，把书丢进坩埚，就要朝马尔福冲去。哈利和赫敏从后面紧紧拽住他的衣服。
　
　　“罗恩！”韦斯莱先生带着弗雷德和乔治挤过来，“你在干什么？这里的人都疯了，我们出去吧。”
　
　　“啊呀呀——亚瑟韦斯莱。”
　
　　是马尔福先生。他一只手搭在德拉科的肩上，脸上挂着和儿子一模一样的讥笑。
　
　　“卢修斯。”韦斯莱先生冷冷地点头说。
　
　　“听说老兄公务繁忙得很哪，”马尔福先生说，“那么多的抄查……我想他们付给你加班费了吧？”他把手伸进金妮的坩埚，从崭新光亮的洛哈特著作中间抽出了一本破破烂烂的《初学变形指南》。“看来并没有。我的天，要是连个好报酬都捞不到，做个巫师中的败类又有什么好处呢？”
　
　　韦斯莱先生的脸比罗恩和金妮红得还厉害。
　
　　“我们对于什么是巫师中的败类看法截然不同，马尔福。”他说。
　
　　“当然，”马尔福先生说。他浅色的眼珠子一转，目光落到了提心吊胆地看着他们的格兰杰夫妇身上。“看看你交的朋友，韦斯莱……我本以为你们一家已经堕落到极限了呢。”
　
　　哐当一声，金妮的坩埚飞了出去。韦斯莱先生朝马尔福先生扑过去，把他撞到一个书架上，几十本厚厚的咒语书掉到他们头上。
　
　　弗雷德和乔治大喊：“揍他，爸爸！”
　
　　韦斯莱夫人尖叫：“别这样，亚瑟，别这样！”
　
　　人群惊慌后退，撞倒了更多的书架。
　
　　“先生们，行行好——行行好。”店员喊道。
　
　　然后一个大嗓门压过了所有的声音：“散开，先生们，散开——”
　
　　海格踏着满地的书大步走了过来，一眨眼就把韦斯莱先生和马尔福先生拉开了。韦斯莱先生的嘴唇破了，马尔福先生的一只眼睛被《毒菌大全》砸了一下，手里还捏着金妮那本破旧的变形术课本。他把书往她手里一塞，眼里闪着恶毒的光芒。
　
　　“喏。小丫头——拿着你的书——这是你爸爸能给你的最好的东西——”他挣脱了海格的手臂，向德拉科一招手，冲出了店门。
　
　　“你不该理他，亚瑟，”海格伸手替韦斯莱先生把袍子抹平，差点把他举了起来，“这家伙坏透了，他们全家都是，所有的人都知道。马尔福一家人的话根本不值得听。他们身上的血是坏的，就是这么回事。走，我们出去吧。”
　
　　店员似乎想拦住他们，可是他的个头才到海格的腰部，所以没敢造次。
　
　　他们快步走到街上，格兰杰夫妇吓得浑身发抖，韦斯莱夫人则气得发狂。
　
　　“给孩子们带的好头……当众打架……吉德罗洛哈特会怎么想……”
　
　　“他可高兴了，”弗雷德说道，“咱们出来时你没听见吗？他问《预言家日报》的那个家伙能不能把打架的事也写进报道——他说这能造成轰动。”
　
　　不过回到破釜酒吧的壁炉旁时，大伙儿已经平静多了。哈利、书斯莱一家和买的东西都要用飞路粉运回陋居。格兰杰一家要回城那边麻瓜住的街道。他们在酒吧道别，韦斯莱先生想问问他们汽车站是什么样的，可是看到韦斯莱夫人的表情，只好赶快闭了嘴。
　
　　哈利摘下眼镜，小心地放进口袋里，才去取飞路粉。这显然不是他最喜欢的旅行方式。

　

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举报只看该作者 17楼发表于: 2013-10-23 0

　　CHAPTER F I v E
　　THE WHOMPING
　　WILLOW
　　he end of the summer vacation came too quickly for Harry's liking. He was looking forward to getting back to Hogwarts, but his month at the Burrow had been the happiest of his life. It was difficult not to feel jealous of Ron when he thought of the Dursleys and the sort of welcome he could expect next time he turned up on Privet Drive.
　　On their last evening, Mrs. Weasley conjured up a sumptuous dinner that included all of Harry's favorite things, ending with a mouthwatering treacle pudding. Fred and George rounded off the evening with a display of Filibuster fireworks; they fiIled the kitchen with red and blue stars that bounced from ceiling to wall for at least half an hour. Then it was time for a last mug of hot chocolate and bed.
　　It took a long while to get started next morning. They were up at dawn, but somehow they still seemed to have a great deal to do.
　　65
　　Mrs. Weasley dashed about in a bad mood looking for spare socks and quills; people kept colliding on the stairs, half-dressed with bits of toast in their hands; and Mr. Weasley nearly broke his neck, tripping over a stray chicken as he crossed the yard carrying Ginny's trunk to the car.
　　Harry couldn't see how eight people, six large trunks, two owls, and a rat were going to fit into one small Ford Anglia. He had reckoned, of course, without the special features that Mr. Weasley had added.
　　"Not a word to Molly," he whispered to Harry as he opened the. trunk and showed him how it had been magically expanded so that the luggage fitted easily.
　　When at last they were all in the car, Mrs. Weasley glanced into the back seat, where Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Percy were all sitting comfortably side by side, and said, "Muggles do know more than we give them credit for, don't they?" She and Ginny got into the front seat, which had been stretched so that it resembled a park bench. "I mean, you'd never know it was this roomy from the outside, would you?"
　　Mr. Weasley started up the engine and they trundled out of the yard, Harry turning back for a last look at the house. He barely had time to wonder when he'd see it again when they were back George had forgotten his box of Filibuster fireworks. Five minutes after that, they skidded to a halt in the yard so that Fred could run in for his broomstick. They had almost reached the highway when Ginny shrieked that she'd left her diary. By the time she had clambered back into the car, they were running very late, and tempers were running high.
　　* 66
　　Mr. Weasley glanced at his watch and then at his wife.
　　"Molly, dear -"
　　"No, Arthur -"
　　"No one would see - this little button here is an Invisibility Booster I installed - that'd get us up in the air - then we fly above the clouds. We'd be there in ten minutes and no one would be any the wiser -"
　　"I said no, Arthur, not in broad daylight -"
　　They reached King's Cross at a quarter to eleven. Mr. Weasley dashed across the road to get trolleys for their trunks and they all hurried into the station.
　　Harry had caught the Hogwarts Express the previous year. The tricky part was getting onto platform nine and three-quarters, which wasn't visible to the Muggle eye. What you had to do was walk through the solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten. It didn't hurt, but it had to be done carefully so that none of the Muggles noticed you vanishing.
　　"Percy first," said Mrs. Weasley, looking nervously at the clock overhead, which showed they had only five minutes to disappear casually through the barrier.
　　Percy strode briskly forward and vanished. Mr. Weasley went next; Fred and George followed.
　　"I'll take Ginny and you two come right after us," Mrs. Weasley told Harry and Ron, grabbing Ginny's hand and setting off. In the blink of an eye they were gone.
　　"Let's go together, we've only got a minute," Ron said to Harry.
　　Harry made sure that Hedwig's cage was safely wedged on top of his trunk and wheeled his trolley around to face the barrier. He felt
　　61
　　perfectly confident; this wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as using Floo powder. Both of them bent low over the handles of their trolleys and walked purposefully toward the barrier, gathering speed. A few feet away from it, they broke into a run and
　　CRASH.
　　Both trolleys hit the barrier and bounced backward; Ron's trunk fell off with a loud thump, Harry was knocked off his feet, and Hedwig's cage bounced onto the shiny floor, and she rolled away, shrieking indignantly; people all around them stared and a guard nearby yelled, "What in blazes d'you think you're doing?"
　　"Lost control of the trolley," Harry gasped, clutching his ribs as he got up. Ron ran to pick up Hedwig, who was causing such a scene that there was a lot of muttering about cruelty to animals from the surrounding crowd.
　　"Why can't we get through?" Harry hissed to Ron.
　　"I dunno -"
　　Ron looked wildly around. A dozen curious people were still watching them.
　　"We're going to miss the train," Ron whispered. "I don't understand why the gateway's sealed itself -"
　　Harry looked up at the giant clock with a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. Ten seconds ... nine seconds ...
　　He wheeled his trolley forward cautiously until it was right against the barrier and pushed with all his might. The metal remained solid.
　　Three seconds . . . two seconds ... one second ...
　　"It's gone," said Ron, sounding stunned. "The train's left. What if Mum and Dad can't get back through to us? Have you got any Muggle money?"
　　68
　　And they marched off through the crowd of curious Muggles, out of the station and back onto the side road where the old Ford Anglia was parked.
　　Ron unlocked the cavernous trunk with a series of taps from his wand. They heaved their luggage back in, put Hedwig on the back seat, and got into the front.
　　"Check that no one's watching," said Ron, starting the ignition with another tap of his wand. Harry stuck his head out of the window: Traffic was rumbling along the main road ahead, but their street was empty.
　　"Okay," he said.
　　Ron pressed a tiny silver button on the dashboard. The car around them vanished - and so did they. Harry could feel the seat vibrating beneath him, hear the engine, feel his hands on his knees and his glasses on his nose, but for all he could see, he had become a pair of eyeballs, floating a few feet above the ground in a dingy street full of parked cars.
　　"Let's go," said Ron's voice from his right.
　　And the ground and the dirty buildings on either side fell away, dropping out of sight as the car rose; in seconds, the whole of London lay, smoky and glittering, below them.
　　Then there was a popping noise and the car, Harry, and Ron reappeared.
　　"Uh-oh," said Ron, jabbing at the Invisibility Booster. "It's faulty -"
　　Both of them pummeled it. The car vanished. Then it flickered back again.
　　"Hold on!" Ron yelled, and he slammed his foot on the acceler
　　* 7 0
　　ator; they shot straight into the low, woolly clouds and everything turned dull and foggy.
　　"Now what?" said Harry, blinking at the solid mass of cloud pressing in on them from all sides.
　　"We need to see the train to know what direction to go in," said Ron.
　　"Dip back down again - quickly -"
　　They dropped back beneath the clouds and twisted around in their seats, squinting at the ground.
　　"I can see it!" Harry yelled. "Right ahead - there!"
　　The Hogwarts Express was streaking along below them like a scarlet snake.
　　"Due north," said Ron, checking the compass on the dashboard. "Okay, we'll just have to check on it every half hour or so - hold on
　　And they shot up through the clouds. A minute later, they burst out into a blaze of sunlight.
　　It was a different world. The wheels of the car skimmed the sea of fluffy cloud, the sky a bright, endless blue under the blinding white sun.
　　"All we've got to worry about now are airplanes," said Ron.
　　They looked at each other and started to laugh; for a long time, they couldn't stop.
　　It was as though they had been plunged into a fabulous dream. This, thought Harry, was surely the only way to travel - past swirls and turrets of snowy cloud, in a car full of hot, bright sunlight, with a fat pack of toffees in the glove compartment, and the prospect of seeing Fred's and George's jealous faces when they
　　* 71
　　landed smoothly and spectacularly on the sweeping lawn in front of Hogwarts castle.
　　They made regular checks on the train as they flew farther and farther north, each dip beneath the clouds showing them a different view. London was soon far behind them, replaced by neat green fields that gave way in turn to wide, purplish moors, a great city alive with cars like multicolored ants, villages with tiny toy churches.
　　Several uneventful hours later, however, Harry had to admit that some of the fun was wearing off. The toffees had made them extremely thirsty and they had nothing to drink. He and Ron had pulled off their sweaters, but Harry's T-shirt was sticking to the back of his seat and his glasses kept sliding down to the end of his sweaty nose. He had stopped noticing the fantastic cloud shapes now and was thinking longingly of the train miles below, where you could buy ice-cold pumpkin juice from a trolley pushed by a plump witch. Why hadn't they been able to get onto platform nine and three-quarters?
　　"Can't be much further, can it?" croaked Ron, hours later still, as the sun started to sink into their floor of cloud, staining it a deep pink. "Ready for another check on the train?"
　　It was still right below them, winding its way past a snowcapped mountain. It was much darker beneath the canopy of clouds.
　　Ron put his foot on the accelerator and drove them upward again, but as he did so, the engine began to whine.
　　Harry and Ron exchanged nervous glances.
　　"It's probably just tired," said Ron. "It's never been this far before ......
　　12
　　And they both pretended not to notice the whining growing louder and louder as the sky became steadily darker. Stars were blossoming in the blackness. Harry pulled his sweater back on, try ing to ignore the way the windshield wipers were now waving fee bly, as though in protest. "Not far," said Ron, more to the car than to Harry, "not far now," and he patted the dashboard nervously. When they flew back beneath the clouds a little while later, they had to squint through the darkness for a landmark they knew. "There!" Harry shouted, making Ron and Hedwig jump. "Straight ahead!" Silhouetted on the dark horizon, high on the cliff over the lake, stood the many turrets and towers of Hogwarts castle. But the car had begun to shudder and was losing speed. "Come on," Ron said cajolingly, giving the steering wheel a lit tle shake, "nearly there, come on -" The engine groaned. Narrow jets of steam were issuing from un der the hood. Harry found himself gripping the edges of his seat very hard as they flew toward the lake. The car gave a nasty wobble. Glancing out of his window, Harry saw the smooth, black, glassy surface of the water, a mile below. Ron's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. The car wobbled again. "Come on," Ron muttered. They were over the lake - the castle was right ahead - Ron put his foot down. There was a loud clunk, a splutter, and the engine died com pletely.
　　"Uh-oh," said Ron, into the silence.
　　The nose of the car dropped. They were falling, gathering speed, heading straight for the solid castle wall.
　　"Noooooo!" Ron yelled, swinging the steering wheel around; they missed the dark stone wall by inches as the car turned in a great arc, soaring over the dark greenhouses, then the vegetable patch, and then out over the black lawns, losing altitude all the time.
　　Ron let go of the steering wheel completely and pulled his wand out of his back pocket
　　"STOP! STOP!" he yelled, whacking the dashboard and the windshield, but they were still plummeting, the ground flying up toward them
　　"WATCH OUT FOR THAT TREE!" Harry bellowed, lunging for the steering wheel, but too late.
　　CRUNCH.
　　With an earsplitting bang of metal on wood, they hit the thick tree trunk and dropped to the ground with a heavy jolt. Steam was billowing from under the crumpled hood; Hedwig was shrieking in terror; a golfball-size lump was throbbing on Harry's head where he had hit the windshield; and to his right, Ron let out a low, despairing groan.
　　"Are you okay?" Harry said urgently.
　　"My wand," said Ron, in a shaky voice. "Look at my wand -"
　　It had snapped, almost in two; the tip was dangling limply, held on by a few splinters.
　　Harry opened his mouth to say he was sure they'd be able to mend it up at the school, but he never even got started. At that very moment, something hit his side of the car with the force of a
　　* Y4 *
　　charging bull, sending him lurching sideways into Ron, just as an equally heavy blow hit the roof.
　　"What's happen -?"
　　Ron gasped, staring through the windshield, and Harry looked around just in time to see a branch as thick as a python smash into it. The tree they had hit was attacking them. Its trunk was bent almost double, and its gnarled boughs were pummeling every inch of the car it could reach.
　　"Aaargh!" said Ron as another twisted limb punched a large dent into his door; the windshield was now trembling under a hail of blows from knuckle-like twigs and a branch as thick as a battering ram was pounding furiously on the roof, which seemed to be caving
　　"Run for it!" Ron shouted, throwing his full weight against his door, but next second he had been knocked backward into Harry's lap by a vicious uppercut from another branch.
　　"We're done for!" he moaned as the ceiling sagged, but suddenly the floor of the car was vibrating - the engine had restarted.
　　"Reverse!" Harry yelled, and the car shot backward; the tree was still trying to hit them; they could hear its roots creaking as it almost ripped itself up, lashing out at them as they sped out of reach.
　　"That," panted Ron, "was close. Well done, car -"
　　 The car, however, had reached the end of its tether. With two sharp clunks, the doors flew open and Harry felt his seat tip sideways: Next thing he knew he was sprawled on the damp ground. Loud thuds told him that the car was ejecting their luggage from the trunk; Hedwig's cage flew through the air and burst open; she rose out of it with an angry screech and sped off toward the castle
　　Y5
　　without a backward look. Then, dented, scratched, and steaming, the car rumbled off into the darkness, its rear lights blazing angrily.
　　"Come back!" Ron yelled after it, brandishing his broken wand. "Dad'll kill me!"
　　But the car disappeared from view with one last snort from its exhaust.
　　"Can you believe our luck?" said Ron miserably, bending down to pick up Scabbers. "Of all the trees we could've hit, we had to get one that hits back."
　　He glanced over his shoulder at the ancient tree, which was still flailing its branches threateningly.
　　"Come on," said Harry wearily, "we'd better get up to the school ......
　　It wasn't at all the triumphant arrival they had pictured. Stiff, cold, and bruised, they seized the ends of their trunks and began dragging them up the grassy slope, toward the great oak front doors.
　　"I think the feast's already started," said Ron, dropping his trunk at the foot of the front steps and crossing quietly to look through a brightly lit window. "Hey - Harry - come and look - it's the Sorting!"
　　Harry hurried over and, together, he and Ron peered in at the Great Hall.
　　Innumerable candles were hovering in midair over four long, crowded tables, making the golden plates and goblets sparkle. Overhead, the bewitched ceiling, which always mirrored the sky outside, sparkled with stars.
　　Through the forest of pointed black Hogwarts hats, Harry saw a long line of scared-looking first years fiIing into the Hall. Ginny
　　* 76
　　was among them, easily visible because of her vivid Weasley ha-ir. Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall, a bespectacled witch with her hair in a tight bun, was placing the famous Hogwarts Sorting Hat on a stool before the newcomers.
　　Every year, this aged old hat, patched, frayed, and dirty, sorted new students into the four Hogwarts houses (Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin). Harry well remembered putting it on, exactly one year ago, and waiting, petrified, for its decision as it muttered aloud in his ear. For a few horrible seconds he had feared that the hat was going to put him in Slytherin, the house that had turned out more Dark witches and wizards than any other -but he had ended up in Gryffindor, along with Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasleys. Last term, Harry and Ron had helped Gryffindor win the House Championship, beating Slytherin for the first time in seven years.
　　A very small, mousy-haired boy had been called forward to place the hat on his head. Harry's eyes wandered past him to where Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, sat watching the Sorting from the staff table, his long silver beard and half-moon glasses shining brightly in the candlelight. Several seats along, Harry saw Gilderoy Lockhart, dressed in robes of aquamarine. And there at the end was Hagrid, huge and hairy, drinking deeply from his goblet.
　　"Hang on. . . " Harry muttered to Ron. "There's an empty chair at the staff table .... Where's Snape?"
　　Professor Severus Snape was Harry's least favorite teacher. Harry also happened to be Snape's least favorite student. Cruel, sarcastic, and disliked by everybody except the students from his own house (Slytherin), Snape taught Potions.
　　"Maybe he's ill!" said Ron hopefully.
　　"Maybe he's left," said Ha-rry, "because he missed out on the Defense Against Dark Arts job again!"
　　"Or he might have been sacked!" said Ron enthusiastically. "I mean, everyone hates him -"
　　"Or maybe," said a very cold voice right behind them, "he's waiting to hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train."
　　Harry spun around. There, his black robes rippling in a cold breeze, stood Severus Snape. He was a thin man with sallow skin, a hooked nose, and greasy, shoulder-length black hair, and at this moment, he was smiling in a way that told Harry he and Ron were in very deep trouble.
　　"Follow me," said Snape.
　　Not daring even to look at each other, Harry and Ron followed Snape up the steps into the vast, echoing entrance hall, which was lit with flaming torches. A delicious smell of food was wafting from the Great Hall, but Snape led them away from the warmth and light, down a narrow stone staircase that led into the dungeons.
　　"In!" he said, opening a door halfway down the cold passageway and pointing.
　　They entered Snape's office, shivering. The shadowy walls were lined with shelves of large glass) ars, in which floated all manner of revolting things Harry didn't really want to know the name of at the moment. The fireplace was dark and empty. Snape closed the door and turned to look at them.
　　"So," he said softly, "the train isn't good enough for the famous Harry Potter and his faithful sidekick Weasley. Wanted to arrive with a bang, did we, boys?"
　　"No, sir, it was the barrier at King's Cross, it -"
　　78
　　"Silence!" said Snape coldly. "What have you done with the car?" Ron gulped. This wasn't the first time Snape had given Harry the impression of being able to read minds. But a moment later, he un derstood, as Snape unrolled today's issue of the Evening Prophet. "You were seen," he hissed, showing them the headline: FLY ING FORD ANGLIA MYSTIFIES MUGGLES. He began to read aloud: "Two Muggles in London, convinced they saw an old car flying over the Post Office tower ... at noon in Norfolk, Mrs. Hetty Bayliss, while hanging out her washing ... Mr. Angus Fleet, of Peebles, reported to police ... Six or seven Muggles in all. I be lieve your father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office?" he said, looking up at Ron and smiling still more nastily. "Dear, dear ... his own son. . . " Harry felt as though he'd just been walloped in the stomach by one of the mad tree's larger branches. If anyone found out Mr. Weasley had bewitched the car ... he hadn't thought of that .... "I noticed, in my search of the park, that considerable damage seems to have been done to a very valuable Whomping Willow," Snape went on. "That tree did more damage to us than we -" Ron blurted out. "Silence!" snapped Snape again. "Most unfortunately, you are not in my House and the decision to expel you does not rest with me. I shall go and fetch the people who do have that happy power. You will wait here." Harry and Ron stared at each other, white-faced. Harry didn't feel hungry any more. He now felt extremely sick. He tried not to look at a large, slimy something suspended in green liquid on a
　　shelf behind Snape's desk. If Snape had gone to fetch Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House, they were hardly any better off. She might be fairer than Snape, but she was still extremely strict.
　　Ten minutes later, Snape returned, and sure enough it was Professor McGonagall who accompanied him. Harry had seen Professor McGonagall angry on several occasions, but either he had forgotten just how thin her mouth could go, or he had never seen her this angry before. She raised her wand the moment she entered; Harry and Ron both flinched, but she merely pointed it at the empty fireplace, where flames suddenly erupted.
　　"Sit," she said, and they both backed into chairs by the fire.
　　"Explain," she said, her glasses glinting ominously.
　　Ron launched into the story, starting with the barrier at the station refusing to let them through.
　　"
　　-so we had no choice, Professor, we couldn't get on the train."
　　"Why didn't you send us a letter by owl? I believe you have an owl?" Professor McGonagall said coldly to Harry.
　　Harry gaped at her. Now she said it, that seemed the obvious thing to have done.
　　"I - I didn't think -"
　　"That," said Professor McGonagall, "is obvious."
　　There was a knock on the office door and Snape, now looking happier than ever, opened it. There stood the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore.
　　Harry's whole body went numb. Dumbledore was looking unusually grave. He stared down his very crooked nose at them, and
　　*80*
　　Harry suddenly found himself wishing he and Ron were still being beaten up by the Whomping Willow.
　　There was a long silence. Then Dumbledore said, "Please explain why you did this."
　　It would have been better if he had shouted. Harry hated the disappointment in his voice. For some reason, he was unable to look Dumbledore in the eyes, and spoke instead to his knees. He told Dumbledore everything except that Mr. Weasley owned the bewitched car, making it sound as though he and Ron had happened to find a flying car parked outside the station. He knew Dumbledore would see through this at once, but Dumbledore asked no questions about the car. When Harry had finished, he merely continued to peer at them through his spectacles.
　　"We'll go and get our stuff," said Ron in a hopeless sort of voice.
　　"What are you talking about, Weasley?" barked Professor McGonagall.
　　 "Well, you're expelling us, aren't you?" said Ron.
　　Harry looked quickly at Dumbledore.
　　"Not today, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore. "But I must impress upon both of you the seriousness of what you have done. I will be writing to both your families tonight. I must also warn you that if you do anything like this again, I will have no choice but to expel you."
　　Snape looked as though Christmas had been canceled. He cleared his throat and said, "Professor Dumbledore, these boys have flouted the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry, caused serious damage to an old and valuable tree - surely acts of this nature -"
　　* 8i
　　"It will be for Professor McGonagall to decide on these boys' punishments, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "They are in her House and are therefore her responsibility." He turned to Professor McGonagall. "I must go back to the feast, Minerva, I've got to give out a few notices. Come, Severus, there's a delicious-looking cus tard tart I want to sample -" Snape shot a look of pure venom at Harry and Ron as he allowed himself to be swept out of his office, leaving them alone with Pro fessor McGonagall, who was still eyeing them like a wrathful eagle. "You'd better get along to the hospital wing, Weasley, you're bleeding." "Not much," said Ron, hastily wiping the cut over his eye with his sleeve. "Professor, I wanted to watch my sister being Sorted -" "The Sorting Ceremony is over," said Professor McGonagall. "Your sister is also in Gryffindor." "Oh, good," said Ron. "And speaking of Gryffindor -" Professor McGonagall said sharply, but Harry cut in: "Professor, when we took the car, term hadn't started, so - so Gryffindor shouldn't really have points taken from it - should it?" he finished, watching her anxiously. Professor McGonagall gave him a piercing look, but he was sure she had almost smiled. Her mouth looked less thin, anyway. "I will not take any points from Gryffindor," she said, and Harry's heart lightened considerably. "But you will both get a de tention." It was better than Harry had expected. As for Dumbledore's writing to the Dursleys, that was nothing. Harry knew perfectly well they'd just be disappointed that the Whomping Willow hadn't squashed him flat.
　　82
　　Professor McGonagall raised her wand again and pointed it at Snape's desk. A large plate of sandwiches, two silver goblets, and a jug of-iced pumpkin juice appeared with a pop.
　　"You will eat in here and then go straight up to your dormitory," she said. "I must also return to the feast."
　　When the door had closed behind her, Ron let out a long, low whistle.
　　"I thought we'd had it," he said, grabbing a sandwich.
　　"So did I," said Harry, taking one, too.
　　"Can you believe our luck, though?" said Ron thickly through a mouthful of chicken and ham. "Fred and George must've flown that car five or six times and no Muggle ever saw them." He swallowed and took another huge bite. "Why couldn't we get through the barrier?"
　　Harry shrugged. "We'll have to watch our step from now on, though," he said, taking a grateful swig of pumpkin juice. "Wish we could've gone up to the feast ......
　　"She didn't want us showing off," said Ron sagely. "Doesn't want people to think it's clever, arriving by flying car."
　　When they had eaten as many sandwiches as they could (the plate kept refilling itself) they rose and left the office, treading the familiar path to Gryffindor Tower. The castle was quiet; it seemed that the feast was over. They walked past muttering portraits and creaking suits of armor, and climbed narrow flights of stone stairs, until at last they reached the passage where the secret entrance to Gryffindor Tower was hidden, behind an oil painting of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.
　　"Password?" she said as they approached.
　　"Er -" said Harry.
　　They didn't know the new year's password, not having met a Gryffindor prefect yet, but help came almost immediately; they heard hurrying feet behind them and turned to see Hermione dashing toward them.
　　"There you are! Where have you been? The most ridiculous rumors - someone said you'd been expelled for crashing a flying car
　　"Well, we haven't been expelled," Harry assured her.
　　"You're not telling me you did fly here?" said Hermione, sounding almost as severe as Professor McGonagall.
　　"Skip the lecture," said Ron impatiently, "and tell us the new password."
　　"It's `wattlebird,"' said Hermione impatiently, "but that's not the point - "
　　Her words were cut short, however, as the portrait of the fat lady swung open and there was a sudden storm of clapping. It looked as though the whole of Gryffindor House was still awake, packed into the circular common room, standing on the lopsided tables and squashy armchairs, waiting for them to arrive. Arms reached through the portrait hole to pull Harry and Ron inside, leaving Hermione to scramble in after then-t.
　　"Brilliant!" yelled Lee Jordan. "Inspired! What an entrance! Flying a car right into the Whomping Willow, people'll be talking about that one for years -"
　　"Good for you," said a fifth year Harry had never spoken to; someone was patting him on the back as though he'd just won a marathon; Fred and George pushed their way to the front of the crowd and said together, "Why couldn't we've come in the car, eh?"
　　84
　　Ron was scarlet in the face, grinning embarrassedly, but Harry could see one person who didn't look happy at all. Percy was visible over the heads of some excited first years, and he seemed to be trying to get near enough to start telling them off. Harry nudged Ron in the ribs and nodded in Percy's direction. Ron got the point at once.
　　"Got to get upstairs - bit tired," he said, and the two of them started pushing their way toward the door on the other side of the room, which led to a spiral staircase and the dormitories.
　　"'Night," Harry called back to Hermione, who was wearing a scowl just like Percy's.
　　They managed to get to the other side of the common room, still having their backs slapped, and gained the peace of the staircase. They hurried up it, right to the top, and at last reached the door of their old dormitory, which now had a sign on it saying SECOND YEARS. They entered the familiar, circular room, with its five four-posters hung with red velvet and its high, narrow windows. Their trunks had been brought up for them and stood at the ends of their beds.
　　Ron grinned guiltily at Harry.
　　"I know I shouldn't've enjoyed that or anything, but ='
　　The dormitory door flew open and in came the other second year Gryffindor boys, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom.
　　"Unbelievable!" beamed Seamus.
　　"Cool," said Dean.
　　"Amazing," said Neville, awestruck.
　　Harry couldn't help it. He grinned, too.

第五章　打人柳
　
　

　
　　哈利觉得暑假结束得太快了。他盼望回到霍格沃茨，可是在陋居的一个月是他一生中最快乐的时光。想到德思礼一家和他下次回女贞路时可能受到的待遇，他没法不嫉妒罗恩。
　
　　最后一夜，韦斯莱夫人变出了一桌丰盛的晚饭，都是哈利最喜欢的食品，最后一道是看了就让人流口水的蜜汁布丁。弗雷德和乔治的费力拔烟火表演使这个夜晚更加完美。厨房里布满了红色和蓝色的星星，在天花板和墙壁之间蹦来蹦去至少有半个小时之久。尽兴之后，每人喝了一杯热巧克力，就上床睡觉去了。
　
　　第二天早上动身花了很长时间。鸡一叫他们就起床了，可是仍然好像有很多事情要做。韦斯莱夫人冲来冲去地寻找备用的袜子和被子，心情烦躁。大家老是在楼梯上撞在一起，衣服穿了一半，手里拿着吃剩的一点儿面包。韦斯莱先生把金妮的箱子扛到车上时，在院子被一只鸡绊了一下，差点儿摔断了脖子。
　
　　哈利心里纳闷，这八个人、六只大箱子、两只猫头鹰和一只老鼠，怎么可能塞进一辆小小的福特安格里亚车里呢？当然，他没有想到韦斯莱先生添加的那些设计。
　
　　“别告诉莫丽。”他打开行李箱，向哈利展示它怎样被神奇地扩大了，足以放下那些箱子。
　
　　当他们终于都坐进车里后，韦斯莱夫人朝后排看了一眼，哈利、罗恩、弗雷德、乔治和珀西舒适地并排坐在那里。她和金妮坐在前面，那个座位也被加长到像公园的长凳一样。
　
　　“麻瓜真是比我们想象的要聪明，”她说道，“从外面看不出车里有这么宽敞，是不是？”
　
　　韦斯莱先生发动引擎，汽车开出了院子。哈利回头看了这所房子最后一眼。他还没来得及想什么时候才能再见到它，他们又回来了：乔治把他的费力拔烟火忘在家里了。五分钟之后，汽车又在院子里刹住了，好让弗雷德跑回去拿他的飞天扫帚。快上高速公路时，金妮又尖叫起来，说她忘带日记本了。等她爬进汽车时，时间已经很晚，人们的火气也已经很旺。
　
　　韦斯莱先生看了一眼手表，然后看着他的妻子。
　
　　“莫丽，亲爱的——”
　
　　“不行，亚瑟。”
　
　　“没人会看见。这里有个小按钮，是我安装的隐形助推器——它能把我们送到天上——然后我们在云层上面飞，十分钟就到了，谁也不会知道……”
　
　　“我说了不行，亚瑟，在这种光天化日之下。”
　
　　他们差一刻十一点到了国王十字车站。韦斯莱先生冲过马路去找运行李的小车，大家匆匆跑进车站。
　
　　哈利去年乘过霍格沃茨特快列车。窍门是要登上9又3/4站台，这个站台是麻瓜看不见的。你得穿过第9和第10站台之间的隔墙。一点儿也不痛，可是要小心别让麻瓜看到你消失了。
　
　　“珀西第一个。”韦斯莱夫人紧张地看着挂钟说。
　
　　他们必须在五分钟内装作漫不经心地穿墙而过。珀西快步走过去，消失了。韦斯莱先生跟着也过去了，接着是弗雷德和乔治。
　
　　“我带着金妮，你们俩紧紧跟上。”韦斯莱夫人对哈利和罗恩说完，抓住金妮的手走向前去，一转眼就消失了。
　
　　“咱俩一起过吧，只有一分钟了。”罗恩说。
　
　　哈利看了看海德薇的笼子是否在箱子顶上插牢了，然后把小行李车转过来对着隔墙。他非常自信，这远不像用飞路粉那样难受。他们俩猫起腰，坚定地推着车子朝隔墙走去，逐渐加快步伐。离墙还有几英尺时，他们跑了起来——两辆车撞在隔墙上弹了回来。罗恩的箱子重重地砸到地上，哈利被撞倒了；海德薇的笼子弹到了光亮的地板上，滚到一边；海德薇愤怒地尖叫着。许多人围着他们看，旁边一个警卫喊道：“你们到底在搞什么名堂？”
　
　　“车子脱手了。”哈利喘着气说，捂着肋骨爬起来。
　
　　罗恩跑过去捡起海德薇，它还在那里大吵大叫，使得许多围观的人说他们虐待动物。
　
　　“我们为什么过不去？”哈利小声问罗恩。
　
　　“我不知道——”
　
　　罗恩焦急地看看四周，还有十几个人好奇地注视着他们。
　
　　“我们要误车了，”罗恩小声说，“我不懂通道为什么自己封上了……”
　
　　哈利抬头看看大钟，他有些眩晕，觉得仿佛要吐。十秒……九秒……他小心地把车子抵到墙边，使出全身力气一推，隔墙还是纹丝不动。
　
　　“完了，”罗恩呆呆地说，“火车开了。如果爸爸妈妈不能过来接我们怎么办？你身上带着麻瓜的钱吗？”
　
　　哈利干笑了一声，“德思礼一家六年没给我零花钱了。”
　
　　罗恩把耳朵贴到冰冷的隔墙上。“什么声音也没有，”他紧张地说，“我们怎么办呢？不知道爸妈要多久才能回来找我们。”
　
　　他们朝四周望望，还有一些人在看着他们，这主要是由于海德薇在不停地尖叫。
　
　　“我想咱们最好回汽车旁边等着，”哈利说，“这里太招人注……”
　
　　“哈利！”罗恩眼睛一亮，叫道，“汽车！”
　
　　“怎么了？”
　
　　“我们可以开车飞到霍格沃茨！”
　
　　“可是我想——”
　
　　“咱们被困住了，对吧？咱们必须赶回学校去，是不是？在真正紧急的情况下，小巫师也可以使用魔法的。《限制条例》第十九款还是第几款有规定……”
　
　　哈利由惊慌一下子转为兴奋。“你会开吗？”
　
　　“没问题。”罗恩说着，把小车掉头朝向出口，“快走吧，要是赶一赶，咱们还能跟得上霍格沃茨特快列车。”
　
　　他们快步穿过好奇的人群，走出车站，回到停在辅路上的那辆老福特安格里亚车旁边。罗恩用魔杖连点几下，打开了宽敞的行李箱。他们把箱子搬了进去，把海德薇放在后排座位上，然后坐进前排。
　
　　“看一眼有没有人在注意我们。”罗恩说，又用魔杖一点，发动了汽车。哈利把头伸出窗外：干道上有隆隆行驶的车辆，可他们这条街上空空荡荡的。
　
　　“没人。”
　
　　罗恩按下仪表板上的一个小小的银色按钮。他们的汽车消失了——他们俩也消失了。哈利能感到座位在震动，能听到引擎的声音，能感到他的双手放在膝盖上，眼镜戴在鼻梁上，他能看到一切。但他自己只剩下了一双眼睛，离地面几英尺，在一条停满汽车的脏兮兮的街道上飘浮。
　
　　“起飞。”罗恩的声音在他右边说。
　
　　两旁的地面和肮脏的建筑物沉落下去，一会儿就看不见了。汽车越升越高，几秒钟后，整个伦敦城展现在他们下方，烟雾蒙蒙，微微地闪着亮光。突然噗的一声，汽车、哈利和罗恩又重新显现了。
　
　　“唉呀，”罗恩捅着隐形助推器说，“这开关有毛病——”
　
　　他们一起猛敲那个按钮。汽车消失了，但很快又闪闪烁烁地现了形。
　
　　“坐好！”罗恩喊了一声，猛踩油门，他们笔直射入低空棉絮状的云层里，一切都暗淡模糊起来。
　
　　“现在怎么办？”哈利问，从四面压过来的云块让他感到有些晃眼。
　
　　“我们需要看到火车才能知道往哪个方向走。”罗恩说。
　
　　“还是降下去——快——”
　
　　他们重新降到云层下面，扭过身体眯眼向地面搜寻。
　
　　“看到了！”哈利喊道，“就在前面——那儿！”
　
　　霍格沃茨特快列车像一条红蛇在他们下方疾驰。
　
　　“正北，”罗恩对了对仪表板上的罗盘说，“好，我们只要每半小时下来看一眼就行了。坐好……”汽车急速钻入云层。一分钟后，他们就冲进了炫目的阳光中。
　
　　这是另一个世界。车轮掠着松软的云海飞行，在耀眼的白日映照下，天空一片明亮蔚蓝，无边无际。
　
　　“现在我们只要当心飞机就可以了。”罗恩说。
　
　　他们仿佛进入了一个神话般的梦境。哈利想，这无疑是最好的旅行方式：坐在一辆充满阳光的汽车里，在漩涡状、塔林状的白云间穿行，仪表板下面有一大包太妃糖，还可以想象当他们神奇地从天而降，平稳地停在霍格沃茨城堡前的大草坪上时，弗雷德和乔治脸上嫉妒的表情。
　
　　他们一直朝北飞去，隔一段时间就核对一下火车行驶的方向，每次下降都可以看到一幅不同的景象。伦敦很快被远远地甩在后面，代替它的是平整的绿色田野，然后是广阔的紫色沼泽、一座座村庄，村里的教堂像是小孩子的玩具，接着是一个繁忙的大城市，无数车辆像密密麻麻的彩色蚂蚁。
　
　　可是，几小时之后，哈利不得不承认一些乐趣在逐渐消失。太妃糖使他们口渴难当，又没有水喝。他和罗恩都脱掉了罩衣，可哈利的衬衫湿得贴在椅背上，眼镜老往鼻尖上滑。他已经无心欣赏那些云彩的奇幻形状，而想念起数十英里之下的火车来，那里有胖胖的女巫推着小车叫卖冰镇南瓜汁。他们为什么没能进入9又3/4站台呢？
　
　　“不会有多远了吧？”又过了一个小时，罗恩声音沙哑地说。太阳开始沉到云层之下，把云海染成一片粉红。“再下去看一眼火车好吗？”
　
　　火车还在他们下方，正蜿蜒绕过一座白雪覆盖的高山。在云层下面，天色要暗得多。
　
　　罗恩踩住油门，又向上升去，可是引擎开始发出哀鸣。
　
　　哈利和罗恩不安地面面相觑。
　
　　“也许它只是累了，”罗恩说，“它从来没走过这么远……”
　
　　随着天空越来越暗，哀鸣声也越来越响，他们都假装没有注意。夜幕中亮起了点点繁星，哈利穿上罩衣，尽量装作没看见挡风玻璃上的雨刷在无力地摆动，好像是一种抗议。
　
　　“不远了，”罗恩更像是对汽车而不是对哈利说，“现在不远了。”他紧张地拍了拍仪表板。
　
　　过了一会儿，他们又飞到云层之下，眯起眼在黑暗中寻找一个熟悉的地面目标。
　
　　“那儿！”哈利喊道，把罗恩和海德薇都吓了一跳，“就在前面！”
　
　　在黑暗的地平线上，在湖对面高高的悬崖顶端，耸立着霍格沃茨城堡的角楼和高塔的剪影。
　
　　可是汽车开始颤抖并逐渐减速。
　
　　“帮帮忙，”罗恩好言好语地哄劝着，并轻轻地摇了摇方向盘，“差不多到了，帮帮忙——”
　
　　引擎呻吟着，引擎罩下喷出股股蒸气。他们朝湖上飞去时，哈利不禁攥紧了座椅边沿。
　
　　汽车剧烈地摇晃了一下。哈利瞥了一眼窗外，看见了一英里之下平静漆黑、光滑如镜的水面。罗恩握着方向盘的手指节都发白了。汽车又摇晃起来。
　
　　“帮帮忙。”罗恩喃喃道。
　
　　他们飞过湖面……城堡就在前头……罗恩踩下油门。
　
　　哐啷一响，接着噼啪一声，引擎彻底熄火了。
　
　　“哎呀。”罗恩在一片寂静中说。
　
　　车头朝下一倾，他们开始坠落，速度越来越快，直朝着城堡的围墙撞去。
　
　　“不——！”罗恩大喊道，拼命转动方向盘。汽车拐了一个大圆弧，擦墙而过，飞过黑暗的温室、菜地，飞到外面黑色的草坪上方，一直在坠落。
　
　　罗恩干脆放开方向盘，从背后的衣袋里拔出魔杖。
　
　　“停下！停下！”他抽打着仪表板和挡风玻璃高喊，可是他们还是在快速下落，地面向他们扑来……
　
　　“当心那棵树！”哈利大叫，扑过去抓方向盘，可是太晚了——
　
　　咔啦啦。
　
　　一阵金属与树木撞击的巨响，他们撞在了粗大的树干上，落到地上，车身猛地一震。变了形的引擎盖下面冒出滚滚蒸气；海德薇在惊恐地尖叫；哈利的头撞到了挡风玻璃上，鼓起一个高尔夫球那么大的肿包；罗恩在他右边绝望地低声呻吟。
　
　　“你没事吧？”哈利着急地问。
　
　　“我的魔杖，”罗恩声音颤抖着说，“看看我的魔杖。”
　
　　它几乎断成了两截，上端搭拉下来，只有几丝木片连着。
　
　　哈利刚想说到了学校一定能把它修好，可是还没有来得及说出口，什么东西撞上了他这面的车身。那股力量大得像一头猛冲的公牛，把他撞得倒向罗恩，这时车顶又被同样重重地撞了一下。
　
　　“怎么回事——？”
　
　　罗恩倒吸一口冷气，盯着挡风玻璃；哈利转过头，刚好看见一条像蟒蛇那么粗的树枝撞到玻璃上。是车子撞到的那棵树在袭击他们。它的树干弯成弓状，多节的树枝狠揍着车身上它能够到的每一块地方。
　
　　“啊——！”罗恩叫道，又一根扭曲的粗枝把他的车门砸了一个大坑，无数手指关节般粗细的小树枝发动了雹子般的猛烈敲击，震得挡风玻璃瑟瑟颤抖，一根有攻城槌那么粗的树枝正在疯狂地捣着车顶，车顶好像要凹陷下来了——
　
　　“快跑！”罗恩大喊一声，使出浑身力气推门。可是就在这时，另一根树枝给了他一记狠毒的上钩拳，把他打得跌倒在哈利的腿上。
　
　　“我们完了！”他看着车顶塌陷下来，呻吟道。可是车底突然震动起来——引擎重新发动了。
　
　　“倒车！”哈利大喊，汽车嗖地朝后退去。那棵树还想打他们，拼命用枝条朝迅速逃离的车子抽来。它弯着身子向前够着，几乎把树干都要撕裂了。他们能听见树根在嘎吱作响。
　
　　“妈呀，真悬哪。”罗恩气喘吁吁地说，“好样的，汽车。”
　
　　可是，汽车的忍耐已经到了极限。嘭嘭两声，车门弹开，哈利感到座椅朝旁边一歪，还没弄清是怎么回事，他已经趴在潮湿的土地上了。重重的响声告诉他汽车把他们的行李也抛出来了。海德薇的笼子飞到空中，笼门开了，它飞出来，愤怒地高叫一声，头也不回地朝城堡飞去。然后，汽车带着遍体的伤痕和大坑，冒着蒸气，隆隆驶进黑暗中，尾灯还在愤怒地闪耀着。
　
　　“回来！”罗恩挥舞着破魔杖在它后面喊，“爸爸会杀了我的！”
　
　　可是汽车的排气管最后喷了一口气，消失在视线之外。
　
　　“你能相信有这么倒霉的运气吗？”罗恩苦着脸说道，俯身抱起他的老鼠斑斑，“那么多的树，咱们偏偏撞上了会打人的那棵。”
　
　　他回头看着那棵古树，它还在威胁地挥动着它的枝条。
　
　　“走吧，”哈利疲惫地说，“咱们最好进学校去……”
　
　　完全不是他们原先想象的胜利抵达，他们四肢僵硬，身上又冷又痛。他们抓起摔破的箱子，开始往草坡上拖，朝着那两扇栎木大门走去。
　
　　“我想宴会已经开始了。”罗恩把他的箱子丢在台阶脚下，悄悄走到一扇明亮的窗户前，向里面窥视。“嘿，哈利，快来看——在分院呢！”
　
　　哈利赶过去，和罗恩一起往大礼堂里看。
　
　　无数根蜡烛停在半空中，照着四张围满了人的长桌子，照得那些金色的盘子和高脚杯闪闪发光。
　
　　天花板上群星璀璨，这天花板是被施了魔法的，永远能反映出外面的天空。
　
　　越过一片密密麻麻的黑色尖顶霍格沃茨帽，哈利看到新生们排着长队提心吊胆地走进礼堂。金妮也在其中，她那一头韦斯莱家特有的红发十分显眼。与此同时，戴着眼镜、头发紧紧地束成一个小圆髻的麦格教授，把那顶著名的霍格沃茨分院帽放在新生面前的凳子上。
　
　　每年，这顶打着补丁、又脏又破的旧帽子把新生们分到霍格沃茨的四个学院（格兰芬多、赫奇帕奇、拉文克劳和斯莱特林）。哈利清楚地记得一年前他戴上这顶帽子时的情形：他惶恐地听着它在耳边嘀嘀咕咕，等待它做出决定。有几秒钟，他恐惧地以为帽子要把他分到斯莱特林，这个学院出的黑巫师比其他学院都多——可后来他被分到格兰芬多，和罗恩、赫敏和韦斯莱兄弟在一起。上学期，哈利和罗恩为格兰芬多赢得了学院杯冠军，这是他们学院七年来第一次打败斯莱特林。
　
　　一个非常瘦小的灰头发男孩被叫到前面，戴上了分院帽。哈利的目光移到了坐在教师席上观看分院仪式的邓布利多校长身上，他银白的长须和半月形的眼镜在烛光下闪闪发亮。再过去几个座位，哈利看到了穿一身水绿色长袍的吉德罗洛哈特。最顶头坐着虎背熊腰、须发浓密的海格，正举着杯子大口地喝酒。
　
　　“等等……”哈利低声对罗恩说，“教师席上有一个位子空着……斯内普哪儿去了？”
　
　　西弗勒斯斯内普教授是哈利最不喜欢的老师，而哈利碰巧又是斯内普最不喜欢的学生。斯内普为人残忍刻薄，除了他自己学院（斯莱特林）的学生以外，大家都不喜欢他。他教授的是魔药学。
　
　　“也许他病了！”罗恩满怀希望地说。
　
　　“也许他走了，”哈利说，“因为他又没当上黑魔法防御术课教师！”
　
　　“也许他被解雇了！”罗恩兴奋地说，“你想，所有的人都恨他——”
　
　　“也许，”一个冰冷的声音在他们背后说，“他在等着听你们两个说说为什么没坐校车来。”
　
　　哈利一转身，西弗勒斯斯内普就站在眼前，黑袍子在凉风中抖动着。他身材枯瘦，皮肤灰黄，长着一个鹰钩鼻，油油的黑发披到肩上。此刻他脸上的那种笑容告诉哈利，他和罗恩的处境非常不妙。
　
　　“跟我来。”斯内普说。
　
　　哈利和罗恩都不敢看他，跟着斯内普登上台阶，走进点着火把的空旷而有回声的门厅。从大礼堂飘来食物的香味，可是斯内普带着他们离开了温暖和光明，沿着狭窄的石梯下到了地下教室里。
　
　　“进去！”他打开阴冷的走廊上的一扇房门，指着里面说道。
　
　　他们哆嗦着走进斯内普的办公室。四壁昏暗，沿墙的架子上摆着许多大玻璃罐，罐里悬浮着各种令人恶心的东西，哈利此刻并不想知道它们的名字。壁炉空着，黑洞洞的。斯内普关上门，转身看着他们俩。
　
　　“啊，”他轻声说，“著名的哈利波特和他的好伙伴韦斯莱嫌坐火车不够过瘾，想玩个刺激的，是不是？”
　
　　“不，先生，是国王十字车站的隔墙，它——”
　
　　“安静！”斯内普冷冷地说，“你们对汽车做了什么？”
　
　　罗恩张口结舌。斯内普又一次让哈利感到他能看穿别人的心思。可是不一会儿疑团就解开了，斯内普展开了当天的《预言家晚报》。
　
　　“你们被人看见了，”他无情地说，并把报上的标题给他们看：福特安格里亚车会飞，麻瓜大为惊诧。
　
　　他高声念道：“伦敦两名麻瓜确信他们看到一辆旧轿车飞过邮局大楼……中午在诺福克，赫蒂贝利斯夫人晒衣服时……皮伯斯的安格斯·弗利特先生向警察报告……一共有六七个麻瓜。我记得你父亲是在禁止滥用麻瓜物品司工作吧？”他抬眼看着罗恩，笑得更加险恶。“哎呀呀……他自己的儿子……”
　
　　哈利感到他的腹部好像被那棵疯树的大枝猛抽了一下。要是有人发现韦斯莱先生对汽车施了魔法……他没有想过这一点……
　
　　“我在检查花园时发现，一棵非常珍贵的打人柳似乎受到了很大的损害。”斯内普继续说。
　
　　“那棵树对我们的损害比……”罗恩冲口而出。
　
　　“安静！”斯内普再次厉声呵斥。“真可惜，你们不是我学院的学生，我无权作出开除你们的决定。我去把真正拥有这个愉快特权的人找来。你们在这儿等着。”
　
　　哈利和罗恩脸色苍白地对望着。哈利不再觉得饿了，他感到非常不舒服，尽量不去看斯内普桌后架子上那个悬浮在绿色液体里的黏糊糊的大东西。如果斯内普把麦格教授找来，也好不到哪儿去。她可能比斯内普公正一点儿，可是同样严厉得要命。
　
　　十分钟后，斯内普回来了，他旁边果然跟着麦格教授。哈利以前看见麦格教授发过几回火，可也许是他忘了她发火时嘴唇抿得多紧，也许是他从来没见过她像现在这样生气。总之，麦格教授的模样令哈利觉得陌生。她一进屋就举起了魔杖，哈利和罗恩都退缩了一下，可她只是点了一下空空的壁炉，炉里立即燃起了火苗。
　
　　“坐。”她说，他们俩都退到炉边的椅子上。
　
　　“解释吧。”她的眼镜片不祥地闪烁着。
　
　　罗恩急匆匆地讲起来，从车站的隔墙不让他们通过说起。
　
　　“……我们没有别的办法，老师，我们上不了火车。”
　
　　“为什么不派猫头鹰送信给我们呢？我相信你是有一只猫头鹰的吧？”麦格教授冷冷地对哈利说。
　
　　哈利张口结舌。经她一提，用猫头鹰送信好像是很容易想到的办法。
　
　　“我——我没想——”
　
　　“那是很容易想到的。”麦格教授说。
　
　　有人敲门，斯内普过去开，脸上的表情更加愉快了。门外站着他们的校长，邓布利多教授。
　
　　哈利全身都麻木了。邓布利多的表情异常严肃，目光顺着他的弯鼻梁朝下看着他们。哈利突然希望他和罗恩还在那里遭受打人柳的殴打。长久的沉默。然后邓布利多说：“请解释你们为什么要这么做。”
　
　　他要是大声嚷嚷还好一些，哈利真怕听到他那种失望的语气。不知为什么，他不能正视邓布利多的眼睛，只好对着他的膝盖说话。他把一切都告诉了邓布利多，只是没提那辆车是韦斯莱先生的，好像他和罗恩是碰巧发现车站外有一辆会飞的汽车的。他知道邓布利多一眼就会看穿，但邓布利多没有问汽车的问题。哈利讲完后，他只是继续透过眼镜盯着他们。
　
　　“我们去拿东西。”罗恩绝望地说。
　
　　“你在说什么，韦斯莱？”麦格教授喊道。
　
　　“我们被开除了，是不是？”罗恩说。
　
　　哈利赶紧去看邓布利多。
　
　　“今天没有，韦斯莱先生，”邓布利多说道，“但我必须让你们感到自己行为的严重性，我今晚就给你们家里写信。我还必须警告你们，要是再有这样的行为，我就只能开除你们了。”
　
　　斯内普的表情，就好像是听说圣诞节被取消了一样。他清了清喉咙，说道：“邓布利多教授，这两个学生无视限制未成年巫师使用魔法的法令，对一棵珍贵的古树造成了严重的破坏……这种性质的行为当然……”
　
　　“让麦格教授来决定对这两个学生的惩罚，西弗勒斯，”邓布利多平静地说道，“他们是她学院里的学生，应当由她负责。”他转向麦格教授，“我必须回到宴会上去了，米勒娃，我要宣布几个通知。来吧，西弗勒斯，有一种蛋奶果馅饼看上去很不错，我想尝一尝。”
　
　　斯内普恶狠狠地瞪了哈利和罗恩一眼，被拉出了办公室。屋里只剩下他们俩和麦格教授。她仍然像愤怒的老鹰一样盯着他们。
　
　　“你最好去趟医务室，韦斯莱，你在流血。”
　
　　“没什么。”罗恩赶紧用衣袖擦擦眼睛上的伤口，“老师，我想看看我妹妹的分院仪式——”
　
　　“分院仪式已经结束了。”麦格教授说，“你妹妹也在格兰芬多。”
　
　　“哦，太好了。”罗恩说。
　
　　“提起格兰芬多——”麦格教授严厉地说，可哈利插了进来：“老师，我们坐上汽车的时候还没有开学，所以——所以不应该给格兰芬多扣分，对不对？”他说完了，急切地看着她。
　
　　麦格教授严厉地看了他一眼，可是他认为她似乎有了点笑容。反正，她的嘴唇不再抿得那么紧了。
　
　　“我不会给格兰芬多扣分的。”她说，哈利心里轻松了许多，“但要把你们关在这里。”
　
　　这比哈利预料的好得多了。至于邓布利多写信给德思礼夫妇，那完全没有关系。哈利知道他们只会遗憾打人柳没有把他揍扁。
　
　　麦格教授又举起魔杖，朝斯内普的桌子一指，桌上出现了一大盘三明治、两只银杯子和一壶冰镇南瓜汁。
　
　　“你们就在这里吃，然后直接回宿舍。”她说道，“我也必须回到宴会上去了。”
　
　　门关上后，罗恩轻轻吹了一声长长的口哨。
　
　　“我以为咱们要倒霉了。”他抓起一块三明治说。
　
　　“我也是。”哈利也抓了一块。
　
　　“可你能相信咱们的运气这么背吗？”罗恩嘴里塞满了鸡肉和火腿，含糊地说，“弗雷德和乔治肯定飞过五六次了，没有一个麻瓜看见。”他把嘴里的食物咽了下去，又咬了一大口。“咱们为什么过不了那堵墙？”
　
　　哈利耸耸肩。“不过，咱们以后可得注意点儿了，”他轻松地痛饮了一口南瓜汁说，“真希望能到宴会上去……”
　
　　“她不想让咱们去炫耀，”罗恩明智地说，“不想让别人觉得，开一辆会飞的汽车来上学是一件很光彩的事。”
　
　　他们吃到肚皮里实在装不下了（因为盘子里的三明治一吃掉马上就会自动添满），然后离开办公室，踏着熟悉的小径走向格兰芬多塔楼。城堡里静悄悄的，宴会好像结束了。他们走过自言自语的肖像和嘎吱作响的盔甲，爬上一段窄窄的石阶，来到了格兰芬多塔楼秘密入口的走廊上，那个入口藏在一幅油画后面，画上有一位穿着粉红色绸衣的胖夫人。
　
　　“口令？”他们走近时，胖夫人问。
　
　　“哦——”哈利答不上来。
　
　　他们还没有碰到一位格兰芬多的级长，所以不知道新学年的口令，但救星几乎马上就到了。他们听见身后有急促的脚步声，回头一看，是赫敏朝他们奔来。
　
　　“你们俩在这儿！你们上哪儿去了？大家都在纷纷议论，说法可荒唐了——有人说你们开了一辆会飞的汽车，被学校开除了。”
　
　　“我们没被开除。”哈利安慰她说。
　
　　“你难道是说你们真是飞来的？”赫敏的口气几乎和麦格教授一样严厉。
　
　　“别给我们上课了，”罗恩不耐烦地说，“把口令告诉我们吧。”
　
　　“口令是‘食蜜鸟’，”赫敏不耐烦地说，“可问题不在这儿——”
　
　　但是她的话被打断了，胖夫人的肖像应声旋开，里面爆发出一阵雷鸣般的掌声。好像格兰芬多院的同学们都还没睡，全挤在圆形的公共休息室里等着他们。好多双手从洞口伸出来，把哈利和罗恩拉了进去，赫敏只好自己爬进去。
　
　　“太妙了！”李乔丹高呼，“真了不起！多精彩的方式！开着会飞的汽车撞到打人柳上，人们会议论很多年的！”
　
　　“好样的。”一个从来没和哈利讲过话的五年级学生说；有人拍着哈利的后背，好像他刚获得了马拉松第一名似的；弗雷德和乔治挤到跟前，一起问：“为什么不把我们叫回去呢？”
　
　　罗恩满面通红，难为情地笑着，但哈利看得出有一个人一点也不高兴。珀西站在一些兴奋的新生身后，似乎正要挤过来数落他们。哈利捅了捅罗恩的肋部，把头朝珀西那边一点，罗恩立刻会意。
　
　　“要上楼去了——有点儿累。”他说。两人朝房间另一头的门口挤去，门外有螺旋式楼梯通到他们的卧室。“晚安。”哈利回头对赫敏喊道，她和珀西一样绷着脸。
　
　　他们终于挤到了休息室的另一头，这时还有人在拍着他们的后背。门外是僻静的楼梯，两人一口气跑上楼，来到他们的旧宿舍门前，门上现在有一块牌子写着“二年级”。他们走进熟悉的圆形房间，重新看到了那五张装饰着红天鹅绒的四柱床，以及那几扇又高又窄的窗子。他们的箱子已经搬上来了，就放在床头。
　
　　罗恩惭愧地朝哈利笑着，“我知道我不应该觉得得意，可是——”
　
　　宿舍门一下开了，另外几个格兰芬多的二年级男生冲了进来，他们是西莫斐尼甘、迪安托马斯和纳威隆巴顿。
　
　　“真不敢相信！”西莫眉开眼笑。
　
　　“酷。”迪安说。
　
　　“太惊人了。”纳威敬佩地说。
　
　　哈利再也忍不住。他也笑了。

　

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　　CHAPTER Six
　　GILDEROY LOCKHART
　　he next day, however, Harry barely grinned once. Things started to go downhill from breakfast in the Great Hall. The four long house tables were laden with tureens of porridge, plates of kippers, mountains of toast, and dishes of eggs and bacon, beneath the enchanted ceiling (today, a dull, cloudy gray). Harry and Ron sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Hermione, who had her copy of Voyages with Vampires propped open against a milk jug. There was a slight stiffness in the way she said "Morning," which told Harry that she was still disapproving of the way they had arrived. Neville Longbottom, on the other hand, greeted them cheerfully. Neville was a round-faced and accident-prone boy with the worst memory of anyone Harry had ever met.
　　"Mail's due any minute - I think Gran's sending a few things I forgot."
　　Harry had only just started his porridge when, sure enough, there was a rushing sound overhead and a hundred or so owls
　　86
　　streamed in, circling the hall and dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd. A big, lumpy package bounced off Neville's head and, a second later, something large and gray fell into Hermione's jug, spraying them all with milk and feathers.
　　"Enrol!" said Ron, pulling the bedraggled owl out by the feet. Errol slumped, unconscious, onto the table, his legs in the air and a damp red envelope in his beak.
　　"Oh, no -" Ron gasped.
　　"It's all right, he's still alive," said Hermione, prodding Errol gently with the tip of her finger.
　　"It's not that - it's that."
　　Ron was pointing at the red envelope. It looked quite ordinary to Harry, but Ron and Neville were both looking at it as though they expected it to explode.
　　"What's the matter?" said Harry.
　　"She's - she's sent me a Howler," said Ron faintly.
　　"You'd better open it, Ron," said Neville in a timid whisper. "It'll be worse if you don't My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and" - he gulped - "it was horrible."
　　Harry looked from their petrified faces to the red envelope.
　　"What's a Howler?" he said.
　　But Ron's whole attention was fixed on the letter, which had begun to smoke at the corners.
　　"Open it," Neville urged. "It'll all be over in a few minutes -"
　　Ron stretched out a shaking hand, eased the envelope from Errol's beak, and slit it open. Neville stuffed his fingers in his ears. A split second later, Harry knew why. He thought for a moment it had exploded; a roar of sound fiIled the huge hall, shaking dust from the ceiling.
　　"STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHERAND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE -"
　　Mrs. Weasleys yells, a hundred times louder than usual, made the plates and spoons rattle on the table, and echoed deafeningly off the stone walls. People throughout the hall were swiveling around to see who had received the Howler, and Ron sank so low in his chair that only his crimson forehead could be seen.
　　"- LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED -"
　　Harry had been wondering when his name was going to crop up. He tried very hard to look as though he couldn't hear the voice that was making his eardrums throb.
　　"-ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED - YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."
　　A ringing silence fell. The red envelope, which had dropped from Ron's hand, burst into flames and curled into ashes. Harry and Ron sat stunned, as though a tidal wave had just passed over them. A few people laughed and, gradually, a babble of talk broke out again.
　　Hermione closed Voyages with Vampires and looked down at the top of Ron's head.
　　* 88
　　"Well, I don't know what you expected, Ron, but you -"
　　"Don't tell me I deserved it," snapped Ron.
　　Harry pushed his porridge away. His insides were burning with guilt. Mr. Weasley was facing an inquiry at work. After all Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had done for him over the summer ...
　　But he had no time to dwell on this; Professor McGonagall was moving along the Gryffindor table, handing out course schedules. Harry took his and saw that they had double Herbology with the Hufepuffs first.
　　Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the castle together, crossed the vegetable patch, and made for the greenhouses, where the magical plants were kept. At least the Howler had done one good thing: Hermione seemed to think they had now been punished enough and was being perfectly friendly again.
　　As they neared the greenhouses they saw the rest of the class standing outside, waiting for Professor Sprout. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had only just joined them when she came striding into view across the lawn, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart. Professor Sprout's arms were full of bandages, and with another twinge of guilt, Harry spotted the Whomping Willow in the distance, several of its branches now in slings.
　　Professor Sprout was a squat little witch who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair; there was usually a large amount of earth on her clothes and her fingernails would have made Aunt Petunia faint. Gilderoy Lockhart, however, was immaculate in sweeping robes of turquoise, his golden hair shining under a perfectly positioned turquoise hat with gold trimming.
　　"Oh, hello there!" he called, beaming around at the assembled
　　89
　　students. "Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels . . ."
　　"Greenhouse three today, chaps!" said Professor Sprout, who was looking distinctly disgruntled, not at all her usual cheerful self.
　　There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked in greenhouse one before - greenhouse three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. Harry caught a whiff of damp earth and fertilizer mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella- sized flowers dangling from the ceiling. He was about to follow Ron and Hermione inside when Lockhart's hand shot out.
　　"Harry! I've been wanting a word - you don't mind if he's a couple of minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?"
　　Judging by Professor Sprout's scowl, she did mind, but Lockhart said, "That's the ticket," and closed the greenhouse door in her face.
　　"Harry," said Lockhart, his large white teeth gleaming in the sunlight as he shook his head. "Harry, Harry, Harry."
　　Completely nonplussed, Harry said nothing.
　　"When I heard -well, of course, it was all my fault. Could have kicked myself."
　　Harry had no idea what he was talking about. He was about to say so when Lockhart went on, "Don't know when I've been more shocked. Flying a car to Hogwarts! Well, of course, I knew at once why you'd done it. Stood out a mile. Harry, Harry, Harry."
　　It was remarkable how he could show every one of those brilliant teeth even when he wasn't talking.
　　90
　　"Gave you a taste for publicity, didn't I?" said Lockhart. "Gave you the bug. You got onto the front page of the paper with me and you couldn't wait to do it again." "Oh, no, Professor, see -" "Harry, Harry, Harry," said Lockhart, reaching out and grasping his shoulder. "I understand. Natural to want a bit more once you've had that first taste - and I blame myself for giving you that, be cause it was bound to go to your head - but see here, young man, you can't start flying cars to try and get yourself noticed. Just calm down, all right? Plenty of time for all that when you're older. Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking! 'It's all right for him, he's an in ternationally famous wizard already!' But when I was twelve, I was just as much of a nobody as you are now. In fact, Id say I was even more of a nobody! I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven't they? All that business with He-"o-Must-Not-Be-Named!" He glanced at the lightning scar on Harry's forehead. "I know, I know - it's not quite as good as winning Witch Weekly's Most Charming-Smile Award five times in a row, as I have - but it's a start, Harry, it's a start." He gave Harry a hearty wink and strode off. Harry stood stunned for a few seconds, then, remembering he was supposed to be in the greenhouse, he opened the door and slid inside. Professor Sprout was standing behind a trestle bench in the cen ter of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different-colored ear muffs were lying on the bench. When Harry had taken his place between Ron and Hermione, she said, "We'll be repotting Man drakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Man drake?" To nobody's surprise, Hermione's hand was first into the air.
　　s1
　　"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," said Hermione, sounding as usual as though she had swallowed the textbook. "It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."
　　"Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout. "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"
　　Hermione's hand narrowly missed Harry's glasses as it shot up again.
　　"The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it," she said promptly.
　　"Precisely. Take another ten points," said Professor Sprout. "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young."
　　She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in color, were growing there in rows. They looked quite unremarkable to Harry, who didn't have the slightest idea what Hermione meant by the "cry" of the Mandrake.
　　"Everyone take a pair of earmuffs," said Professor Sprout.
　　There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy.
　　"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered," said Professor Sprout. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right - earmuffs on."
　　Harry snapped the earmuffs over his ears. They shut out sound completely. Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.
　　*92*
　　Harry let out a gasp of surprise that no one could hear.
　　Instead of roots, a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.
　　Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs.
　　"As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet," she said calmly as though she'd just done nothing more exciting than water a begonia. "However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.
　　"Four to a tray - there is a large supply of pots here - compost in the sacks over there - and be careful of the Venemous Tentacula, it's teething."
　　She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.
　　Harry, Ron, and Hermione were joined at their tray by a curly-haired Hufflepuff boy Harry knew by sight but had never spoken to.
　　"Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said brightly, shaking Harry by the hand. "Know who you are, of course, the famous Harry Potter... And you're Hermione Granger - always top in everything"
　　* 9%
　　(Hermione beamed as she had her hand shaken too) "- and Ron Weasley. Wasn't that your flying car?"
　　Ron didn't smile. The Howler was obviously still on his mind.
　　"That Lockhart's something, isn't he?" said Justin happily as they began fiIling their plant pots with dragon dung compost. "Awfully brave chap. Have you read his books? Id have died of fear if Id been cornered in a telephone booth by a werewolf, but he stayed cool and - zap - just fantastic.
　　"My name was down for Eton, you know. I can't tell you how glad I am I came here instead. Of course, Mother was slightly disappointed, but since I made her read Lockhart's books I think she's begun to see how useful it'll be to have a fully trained wizard in the family . . . ."
　　After that they didn't have much chance to talk. Their earmuffs were back on and they needed to concentrate on the Mandrakes. Professor Sprout had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn't. The Mandrakes didn't like coming out of the earth, but didn't seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists, and gnashed their teeth; Harry spent ten whole minutes trying to squash a particularly fat one into a pot.
　　By the end of the class, Harry, like everyone else, was sweaty, aching, and covered in earth. Everyone traipsed back to the castle for a quick wash and then the Gryffindors hurried off to Transfiguration.
　　Professor McGonagall's classes were always hard work, but today was especially difficult. Everything Harry had learned last year seemed to have leaked out of his head during the summer. He was supposed to be turning a beetle into a button, but all he managed
　　* 94
　　to do was give his beetle a lot of exercise as it scuttled over the desktop avoiding his wand.

第六章　吉德罗·洛哈特
　
　

　
　　可是第二天，哈利几乎一天都没露过笑容。从早晨在大礼堂吃早饭起，境况就开始走下坡路了。在施了魔法的天花板下（今天它是阴天的灰色），四个学院的长桌子上摆着一碗碗的粥、一盘盘的腌鲱鱼、堆成小山的面包片和一碟碟鸡蛋和咸肉。哈利和罗恩在格兰芬多的桌子前坐下，旁边是赫敏，她的《与吸血鬼同船旅行》摊开搁在一个牛奶壶上。她说“早上好”时有一点生硬，哈利知道她仍然对他们来校的方式怀有不满。纳威隆巴顿却兴高采烈地和他们打了个招呼。纳威是一个老爱出事故的圆脸男孩，哈利从没见过记性像他这么坏的人。
　
　　“邮差马上就要到了——我想奶奶会把几样我忘带的东西寄来的。”
　
　　哈利刚开始喝粥，果然听见头顶上乱哄哄的。上百只猫头鹰拥了进来，在礼堂中盘旋，把信和包裹丢到正在交谈的人群中。一个鼓鼓囊囊的大包裹掉到纳威的头上，紧接着，又有一个灰乎乎的大家伙掉进了赫敏的壶里。顿时，牛奶和羽毛溅了他们一身。
　
　　“埃罗尔！”罗恩喊道，提着爪子把那只湿漉漉的猫头鹰拉了出来。埃罗尔昏瘫在桌上，两条腿伸在空中，嘴里还叼着一只打湿了的红信封。
　
　　“哦，不——”罗恩失声叫道。
　
　　“没事的，他还活着。”赫敏说，轻轻用指尖戳了戳埃罗尔。
　
　　“不——是那个。”罗恩指着红信封。那信封在哈利看来很平常，可是罗恩和纳威却好像觉得它会爆炸似的。
　
　　“怎么啦？”哈利问道。
　
　　“她——妈妈给我寄了一封吼叫信。”罗恩有气无力地说。
　
　　“你最好打开它，罗恩，”纳威害羞地小声说，“不打开更糟糕。奶奶给我寄过一回，我没理它，结果——”他吸了口气，“太可怕了。”
　
　　哈利看着他们惊恐的神色，又望望那只红信封。
　
　　“什么是吼叫信？”他问。
　
　　可是罗恩的注意力全都集中在信上，信封的四角已经开始冒烟。
　
　　“快打开，”纳威催促着，“只有几分钟……”
　
　　罗恩伸出颤抖的手，小心翼翼地从埃罗尔嘴里取出那只信封，把它撕开了。纳威用手指堵住了耳朵，哈利马上就知道为什么了。一开始他以为是爆炸了，巨大的响声充满整个礼堂，把天花板上的灰尘都震落了下来。
　
　　“……偷了汽车，他们要是开除你，我一点儿都不会奇怪，看我到时候怎么收拾你。你大概压根儿就没想过，我和你爸爸发现车子没了时是什么心情……”
　
　　是韦斯莱夫人的喊声，比平常响一百倍，震得桌上的盘子和勺子格格直响，四面石墙的回声震耳欲聋。全礼堂的人都转过身来看是谁收到了吼叫信，罗恩缩在椅子里，只能看到一个通红的额头。
　
　　“昨晚收到邓布利多的信，你爸爸羞愧得差点儿死掉。我们辛辛苦苦把你拉扯大，没想到你做出这样的事，你和哈利差点丢了小命……”
　
　　哈利一直在听着他的名字什么时候冒出来。他竭力装作没听见那撞击耳鼓的声音。
　
　　“……太气人了，你爸爸在单位将受到审查，这都是你的错。你要是再不循规蹈矩，我们马上把你领回来！”
　
　　吼叫声停止了，耳边还在嗡嗡作响。已从罗恩手中掉到地上的红信封燃烧起来，卷曲着变成了灰烬。哈利和罗恩呆呆地坐着，好像刚被海潮冲刷过一样。有几个人笑了笑，说话声又渐渐响起。
　
　　赫敏合上《与吸血鬼同船旅行》，低头看着罗恩的脑袋。
　
　　“嗯，难道你还指望会是别的什么，罗恩，要知道你——”
　
　　“别对我说我是活该。”罗恩没好气地说。
　
　　哈利推开粥碗，内疚得吃不下去。韦斯莱先生要接受审查了，暑假里他们夫妇对他那么好……然而他没有时间多想，麦格教授在沿着格兰芬多的桌子发课程表。哈利拿到了他的课程表，头一节是草药课，和赫奇帕奇的学生们一起上。
　
　　哈利、罗恩和赫敏一同出了城堡，穿过菜地向温室走去，那里培育着各种具有魔力的植物。吼叫信至少做了一件好事：赫敏似乎觉得他们已经受了足够的惩罚，现在她又像从前那样友好了。
　
　　他们走近温室，看到其他同学都站在外面，等着斯普劳特教授。哈利、罗恩和赫敏刚加入进去，就看见斯普劳特教授大步从草坪上走来，身边跟着吉德罗洛哈特。斯普劳特教授的手臂上搭着很多绷带，哈利远远望见那棵打人柳的几根树枝用绷带吊着，心中又是一阵歉疚。
　
　　斯普劳特教授是一位矮墩墩的女巫，飘拂的头发上扣了一顶打补丁的帽子，衣服上总沾着不少泥土，若是佩妮姨妈看见她的指甲，准会晕过去。可吉德罗洛哈特却从头到脚一尘不染，飘逸的青绿色长袍，闪光的金发上端端正正地戴着一顶青绿色带金边的礼帽。
　
　　“哦，你们好！”洛哈特满面春风地朝学生们喊道，“刚才给斯普劳特教授示范了一下怎样给打人柳治伤！但我不希望你们以为我在草药学方面比她在行！我只不过在旅行中碰巧见过几棵这种奇异的植物……”
　
　　“今天到第三温室！”斯普劳特教授说。她明显地面带愠色，一反往常愉快的风度。
　
　　学生们很感兴趣地小声议论着。他们只进过第一温室——第三温室里的植物更有趣，也更危险。斯普劳特教授从腰带上取下一把大钥匙，把门打开了。哈利闻到一股潮湿的泥土和肥料的气味，其中夹杂着浓郁的花香。那些花有雨伞那么大，从天花板上垂挂下来。他正要跟着罗恩和赫敏一起进去，洛哈特一把拦住了他。
　
　　“哈利！我一直很想跟你谈谈——斯普劳特教授，他迟到两分钟您不会介意吧？”从斯普劳特教授的脸色看，她是介意的。可是洛哈特说：“那太好了。”就对着她把温室的门关上了。“哈利，”洛哈特摇着头，洁白的大牙齿在阳光下闪闪发亮，“哈利呀，哈利呀，哈利。”哈利完全摸不着头脑，没有答腔。“当我听说——哦，当然，这都是我的错。我真想踢自己几脚。”
　
　　哈利不知道他在说什么。他正要表示疑问，洛哈特又接下去说：“我从来没有这么吃惊过。开汽车飞到霍格沃茨！当然，我马上就知道你为什么这么做了，一目了然。哈利呀，哈利呀，哈利。”
　
　　真奇怪，他不说话的时候居然也能露出每一颗晶亮的牙齿。
　
　　“我让你尝到了出名的滋味，是不是？”洛哈特说，“使你上了瘾。你和我一起上了报纸第一版，就迫不及待地想再来一次。”
　
　　“哦——不是的，老师，我——”
　
　　“哈利呀，哈利呀，哈利，”洛哈持伸手抓住他的肩膀，“我理解，尝过一回就想第二回，这是很自然的——我怪自己让你尝到了甜头，这必然会冲昏你的头脑——但是，年轻人，你不能现在就开车在天上飞，企图引起人们注意。冷静下来，好吗？等你长大以后有的是时间。是啊，是啊，我知道你在想什么！‘他说得倒轻巧，他反正已经是国际知名的大巫师了！’可是我十二岁的时候，和你现在一样平凡。实际上，应该说比你还要平凡。我是说，已经有些人知道你了，对不对？以及那个‘连名字都不能提的人’有关的事情！”他看了一眼哈利额上那道闪电形伤疤。“我知道，我知道，这还比不上连续五次荣获《巫师周刊》最迷人微笑奖来得风光，但这是个开始，哈利，是个开始。”
　
　　他亲切地朝哈利眨了眨眼，迈着方步走开了。哈利呆立了几分钟，然后想起他应该到温室去，就推门悄悄溜了进去。
　
　　斯普劳特教授站在温室中间的一张搁凳后面。凳子上放着二十来副颜色不一的耳套。哈利在罗恩和赫敏旁边坐下时，老师说道：“我们今天要给曼德拉草换盆。现在，谁能告诉我曼德拉草有什么特性？”
　
　　赫敏第一个举起了手，这是在大家意料之中的。
　
　　“曼德拉草，又叫曼德拉草根，是一种强效恢复剂，”赫敏好像把课本吃进了肚里似的，非常自然地说，“用于把被变形的人或中了魔咒的人恢复到原来的状态。”
　
　　“非常好，给格兰芬多加十分。”斯普劳特教授说，“曼德拉草是大多数解药的重要组成部分。但是它也很危险。谁能告诉我为什么吗？”
　
　　赫敏的手又刷地举了起来，差一点儿打掉哈利的眼镜。
　
　　“听到曼德拉草的哭声会使人丧命。”她脱口而出。
　
　　“完全正确，再加十分。”斯普劳特教授说，“大家看，我们这里的曼德拉草还很幼小。”
　
　　她指着一排深底的盘子说。每个人都往前凑，想看得清楚一些。那儿排列着大约一百株绿中带紫的幼苗。哈利觉得它们没什么特别的，他根本不知道赫敏说的曼德拉草的“哭声”是什么意思。
　
　　“每人拿一副耳套。”斯普劳特教授说。
　
　　大家一阵哄抢，谁都不想拿到一副粉红色的绒毛耳套。
　
　　“我叫你们戴上耳套时，一定要把耳朵严严地盖上，”斯普劳特教授说道，“等到可以安全摘下耳套时，我会竖起两只拇指。好——戴上耳套。”
　
　　哈利迅速照办，一下子外面的声音都听不见了。斯普劳特教授自己戴上一副粉红色的绒毛耳套，卷起袖子，牢牢抓住一丛草叶，使劲把它拔起。哈利发出一声没有人听得到的惊叫。从土中拔出的不是草根，而是一个非常难看的婴儿，叶子就生在他的头上。他的皮肤是浅绿色的，上面斑斑点点。这小家伙显然在扯着嗓子大喊大叫。
　
　　斯普劳特教授从桌子底下拿出一只大花盆，把曼德拉草娃娃塞了进去，用潮湿的深色堆肥把他埋住，最后只有丛生的叶子露在外面。她拍拍手上的泥，朝他们竖起两只大拇指，然后摘掉了自己的耳套。
　
　　“我们的曼德拉草只是幼苗，听到他们的哭声不会致命。”她平静地说，好像她刚才只是给秋海棠浇了浇水那么平常。“但是，它们会使你昏迷几个小时，我想你们谁都不想错过开学的第一天，所以大家干活时一定要戴好耳套。等到该收拾东西的时候，我会设法引起你们注意的。”
　
　　“四个人一盘——这儿有很多花盆——堆肥在那边袋子里——当心毒触手，它在出牙。”她在一棵长着尖刺的深红色植物上猛拍了一下，使它缩回了悄悄伸向她肩头的触手。哈利、罗恩、赫敏和一个满头鬈发的赫奇帕奇男孩站在一个盘子旁，哈利觉得他眼熟，但从来没有跟他说过话。
　
　　“我叫贾斯廷芬列里，”他欢快地说，使劲摇着哈利的手，“当然认识你，著名的哈利波特……你是赫敏格兰杰——永远是第一……”（赫敏的手也被摇了一气，她甜甜地笑了）“还有罗恩韦斯莱，那辆飞车是你的吧？”罗恩没有笑，显然还在想着那封吼叫信。
　
　　“那个叫什么洛哈特的，”他们开始往花盆里装龙粪堆肥时，贾斯廷兴致勃勃地说，“真是个勇敢的人。你们看了他的书没有？我要是被一个狼人堵在电话亭里，早就吓死了，他却那么镇静——啧啧——真了不起。
　
　　“我本来是要上伊顿公学的，但后来上了这里，我别提多高兴了。当然，我妈妈有点失望，可是我让她读了洛哈特的书之后，我想她已经开始看到家里有个训练有素的巫师是多么有用……”
　
　　此后就没有多少机会交谈了。他们重新戴上了耳套，而且得集中精力对付曼德拉草。刚才看斯普劳特教授做得特别轻松，其实根本不是那样。曼德拉草不愿意被人从土里拔出来，可是好像也不愿意回去。他们扭动着身体，两脚乱蹬，挥着尖尖的小拳头，咬牙切齿。哈利花了整整十分钟才把一个特别胖的娃娃塞进盆里。
　
　　到下课时，哈利和其他同学一样满头大汗，腰酸背疼，身上沾满泥土。他们疲惫地走回城堡冲了个澡，然后格兰芬多的学生匆匆赶去上变形课。麦格教授的课总是很难，而今天是格外的难。哈利去年学的功课好像都在暑假期间从脑子里漏出去了。老师要他把一只甲虫变成纽扣，可是他费了半天的劲，只是让那甲虫锻炼了身体，甲虫躲着魔杖满桌乱跑，他怎么也点不着。
　
　　罗恩更倒霉，他借了一些魔胶带把魔杖修补了一下，但它好像是修不好了，不时噼啪作响，发出火花。每次罗恩试图使甲虫变形时，马上便有一股灰色的、带臭鸡蛋味的浓烟把他包围了。他看不清东西，胳膊肘胡乱一动，把甲虫给压扁了，只好再去要一只，麦格教授不大高兴。
　
　　听到午饭的铃声，哈利如释重负，他的大脑像是一块拧干的海绵。大家纷纷走出教室，只留下他和罗恩。罗恩气急败坏地用魔杖敲着桌子。
　
　　“笨蛋……没用的……东西……”
　
　　“写信回家再要一根。”哈利建议说，那根魔杖发出一连串爆竹般的脆响。
　
　　“是啊，再收到一封吼叫信，”罗恩说着，把开始咝咝作响的魔杖塞进书包里，“你的魔杖断了全怪你自己——”
　
　　两人去礼堂吃午饭，赫敏给他们看了她用甲虫变的一把漂亮的纽扣，罗恩的情绪还不见好转。
　
　　“下午上什么课？”哈利连忙转换语题。
　
　　“黑魔法防御术。”赫敏马上说。
　
　　“咦，”罗恩抓过她的课程表，惊讶地说，“你为什么把洛哈特的课都用心形圈出来呢？”
　
　　赫敏一把夺回课程表，气恼地涨红了脸。
　
　　他们吃完饭，走到阴云笼罩的院子里。赫敏坐下来，又埋头读起了《与吸血鬼同船旅行》。哈利和罗恩站着聊了会儿魁地奇，后来哈利感到有人在密切地注视着自己。他抬起头，看到昨晚分院仪式上那个非常瘦小的灰头发小男孩正着了魔似的盯着自己。那男孩手里攥着一个东西，很像是普通的麻瓜照相机。哈利一看他，男孩的脸立刻变得通红。
　
　　“你好，哈利？我——我叫科林克里维。”他呼吸急促地说，怯怯地向前走了一步。“我也在格兰芬多。你认为——可不可以——我能给你拍张照吗？”他一脸期望地举起了相机。
　
　　“照相？”哈利茫然地问。
　
　　“这样我可以证明见到你了。”科林热切地说，又往前挪了几步，“我知道你的一切。每个人都跟我说。你怎样逃过了神秘人的毒手，他怎样消失了等等，你额头上现在还有一道闪电形伤疤。”（他的目光在哈利的发际搜寻）“我宿舍的一个男孩说，如果我用了正确的显影药水，照片上的人就会动。”科林深深吸了一口气，兴奋得微微颤抖，“这儿真有意思，是不是？在收到霍格沃茨的信以前，我一直不知道我会做的那些奇怪的事就是魔法。我爸爸是送牛奶的，他也不能相信。所以我要拍一大堆照片寄给他看。要是能有一张你的照片——”他乞求地看着哈利，“——也许我可以站在你旁边，请你的朋友帮着按一下？然后，你能不能签一个名？”
　
　　“签名照片？你在送签名照片，波特？”德拉科马尔福响亮尖刻的声音在院子里回荡。他停在科林的身后，身旁是他的两个大块头、凶神恶煞的死党：克拉布和高尔。在霍格沃茨，这两人总是保镖似的跟在他左右。“大家排好队！”马尔福朝人群嚷道，“哈利波特要发签名照片喽！”
　
　　“我没有。”哈利气愤地说，攥紧了拳头，“闭嘴，马尔福。”
　
　　“你是嫉妒。”科林尖声地说，他的整个身体只有克拉布的脖子那么粗。
　
　　“嫉妒？”马尔福说。他不需要再嚷嚷了，院子的人半数都在听着。“嫉妒什么？我可不想头上有一道丑陋的伤疤，谢谢。我不认为脑袋被人切开就会使你变得那么特殊。我不信！”克拉布和高尔傻笑起来。
　
　　“吃鼻涕虫去，马尔福。”罗恩生气地说。
　
　　克拉布不笑了，开始恶狠狠地揉着他那板栗似的指关节。
　
　　“小心点，韦斯莱，”马尔福讥笑道，“你可不要再惹麻烦了，不然你妈妈就只好来把你带回去了。”他装出一副尖厉刺耳的声音。“要是你再不循规蹈矩
——”旁边一群斯莱特林的五年级学生大声哄笑起来。
　
　　“韦斯莱想要一张签名照片，波特，”马尔福得意地笑着，“这比他家的房子还值钱呢。”
　
　　罗恩拔出魔杖，但赫敏合上《与吸血鬼同船旅行》，低声说：“当心！”
　
　　“怎么回事，怎么回事？”吉德罗洛哈特大步向他们走来，青绿色长袍在身后飘拂。“谁在发签名照片？”
　
　　哈利张口解释，可是洛哈特用一只胳膊勾住他的肩膀，快活地大声说：“不用问！咱们又见面了，哈利！”哈利被夹在洛哈特身旁，羞辱得浑身发烧。他看见马尔福得意地退回到人群中。“来吧，克里维先生，”洛哈特笑容可掬地招呼克里维说，“双人照，再合算不过了，我们两人给你签名。”
　
　　科林笨手笨脚地端起照相机，在下午的上课铃声中按下了门。
　
　　“走吧，快上课去。”洛哈特朝人群喊道，然后带着哈利走向城堡。哈利仍被他紧紧夹着，他真希望自己知道一个巧妙的脱身咒。
　
　　“一句忠告，哈利，”当他们从边门走进大楼时，洛哈特像父亲一样地说，“我在小克里维面前给你打了掩护——要是他拍的是咱们两个人，你的同学就不会觉得你太自高自大了……”
　
　　洛哈特根本不听哈利结结巴巴的辩白，夹着他走过一条站满学生的走廊，登上楼梯。那些学生都瞪眼看着他们。“听我说，你现在这个阶段就发签名照片是不明智的——哈利，说实话，这显得有点骄傲自大。将来总有一天，你会像我这样，到哪儿都需要带着一叠照片。可是——”他轻笑了一声，“我觉得你还没到那个时候。”
　
　　到了洛哈特的教室，他终于放开了哈利。哈利把衣服扯扯平，走到最后排的一个位子坐下来，忙着把七本洛哈特的书堆在面前，免得看见那个真人。其他同学叽叽嘎嘎地聊着天走进教室，罗恩和赫敏在哈利两边坐下。
　
　　“你脸上可以煎鸡蛋了，”罗恩说，“你最好祈祷别让克里维遇见金妮，他们俩会发起成立一个哈利波特崇拜者俱乐部的。”
　
　　“别瞎说。”哈利急道。他生怕洛哈特听到“哈利波特崇拜者俱乐部”这个说法。
　
　　全班同学坐好后，洛哈特大声清了清嗓子，使大家安静下来。他伸手拿起纳威隆巴顿的《与巨怪同行》举在手里，展示着封面上他本人眨着眼睛的照片。
　
　　“我，”他指着自己的照片，也眨着眼睛说，“吉德罗洛哈特，梅林爵士团三等勋章，反黑魔法联盟荣誉会员，五次荣获《巫师周刊》最迷人微笑奖——但我不把那个挂在嘴上，我不是靠微笑驱除万伦①的女鬼的！”
　
　　他等着大家发笑，有几个人淡淡地微笑了一下。
　
　　“我看到你们都买了我的全套著作——很好。我想咱们今天就先来做个小测验。不要害怕——只是看看你们读得怎么样，领会了多少……”他发完卷子，回到讲台上说：“给你们三十分钟。现在——开始！”
　
　　哈利看着卷子，念道：1．吉德罗洛哈特最喜欢什么颜色？2．吉德罗洛哈特的秘密抱负是什么？3．你认为吉德罗洛哈特迄今为止的最大成就是什么？如此等等，整整三面纸，最后一题是：54．吉德罗洛哈特的生日是哪一天？他理想的生日礼物是什么？
　
　　半小时后，洛哈特把试卷收上去，当着全班同学翻看着。
　
　　“啧啧——几乎没有人记得我最喜欢丁香色。我在《与西藏雪人在一起的一年》里面提到过。有几个同学要再仔细读读《与狼人共度周末》——我在书中第十二章明确讲过我理想的生日礼物是一切会魔法和不会魔法的人和睦相处——不过我也不会拒绝一大瓶奥格登陈年热火威士忌！”
　
　　他又朝他们调皮地眨了眨眼。罗恩现在带着不信任的神情瞅着他，前面的西莫斐尼甘和迪安托马斯不出声地笑得浑身发颤，可赫敏却全神贯注地聆听着，洛哈特突然提到了她的名字，把她吓了一跳。
　
　　“……可是赫敏格兰杰小姐知道我的秘密抱负是消除世上的邪恶，以及销售我自己的系列护发水——好姑娘！事实上——”他把她的卷子翻了过来，“一百分！赫敏格兰杰小姐在哪里？”
　
　　赫敏举起一只颤抖的手。
　
　　“好极了！”洛哈特笑着说，“非常好！给格兰芬多加十分！现在，言归正传……”他弯腰从讲台后面拎出一只蒙着罩布的大笼子，放到桌上。
　
　　“现在——要当心！我的任务是教你们抵御魔法界所知的最邪恶的东西！你们在这间教室里会面对最恐怖的事物。但是记住，只要我在这儿，你们就不会受到任何伤害。我只要求你们保持镇静。”
　
　　哈利不由自主地从一堆书后面伸出头来，想好好看看那个笼子。洛哈特把一一只手放在罩子上，迪安和西莫停止了发笑，第一排的纳威往后缩了缩。
　
　　“我必须请你们不要尖叫，”洛哈特压低声音说，“那会激怒它们的！”
　
　　全班同学屏住呼吸，洛哈特掀开了罩子。
　
　　“不错，”他演戏似的说，“刚抓到的康沃尔郡②小精灵。”
　
　　西莫斐尼甘忍不住发出了一声嗤笑，就连洛哈特也不可能以为那是惊恐的尖叫。
　
　　“怎么？”他微笑着问西莫。
　
　　“嗯，它们并不——它们不是非常——危险，对吗？”西莫笑得喘不过气来了。
　
　　“不要这样肯定！”洛哈特恼火地朝他摇着指头说，“它们也可能是像魔鬼一样狡猾的小破坏者！”
　
　　这些小精灵是铁青色的，大约八英寸高，小尖脸，嗓子非常尖厉刺耳，就好像是许多虎皮鹦鹉在争吵一样。罩子一拿开，它们就开始叽叽喳喳，上蹿下跳，摇晃着笼栅，朝近旁的人做各种古怪的鬼脸。
　
　　“好吧，”洛哈特高声说，“看看你们怎么对付它们！”他打开了笼门。
　
　　这下可乱了套，小精灵们像火箭一样四处乱飞。其中两个揪住纳威的耳朵把他拎了起来。还有几个直接冲出窗外，在教室后排撒了一地碎玻璃。剩下的在教室里大肆搞起破坏，比一头横冲直撞的犀牛还要厉害。它们抓起墨水瓶朝全班乱泼，把书和纸撕成碎片，扯下墙上贴的图画，把废物箱掀了个底朝天，又把书包和课本从破窗户扔了出去。
　
　　几分钟后，全班同学有一半躲到了桌子底下，纳威在枝形吊灯上荡着。
　
　　“来来，把它们赶拢，把它们赶拢，它们不过是一些小精灵……”洛哈特喊道。他卷起衣袖，挥舞着魔杖吼道：“佩斯奇皮克西佩斯特诺米！”
　
　　全然无效，一个小精灵抓住洛哈特的魔杖，把它也扔出了窗外。洛哈特倒吸一口气，钻到了讲台桌下面，差点儿被纳威砸着，因为几乎是在同一秒钟内，枝形吊灯吃不住劲儿掉了下来。
　
　　下课铃响了，大家没命地冲出去。在此后相对的宁静中，洛哈特直起身子，看见已经走到门口的哈利、罗恩和赫敏，说道：“啊，我请你们三位把剩下的这些抓回笼子里去。”他赶在他们前面走出教室，一出去就把门关上了。
　
　　“你能相信他吗？”罗恩嚷道，一只小精灵咬住了他的耳朵，很痛。
　
　　“他只是想给我们一些实践的机会，”赫敏说道，她聪明地甩了一个冰冻魔咒，把两个小精灵给冻住了，塞回笼子里。
　
　　“实践？”哈利想抓住一只小精灵，但它轻盈地闪开了，还朝他吐着舌头，“赫敏，他根本不知道自己在干什么。”
　
　　“胡说，”赫敏说，“你们都看过他的书——想想他做的那些惊人的事情吧
……”
　
　　“只是他自己说他做过。”罗恩嘀咕道。
　

　
　　①万伦。泰国西南部港口城市。
　　②康沃尔郡。英国英格兰郡名。

　

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举报只看该作者 19楼发表于: 2013-10-23 0

　　Ron was having far worse problems. He had patched up his wand with some borrowed Spellotape, but it seemed to be damaged beyond repair. It kept crackling and sparking at odd moments, and every time Ron tried to transfigure his beetle it engulfed him in thick gray smoke that smelled of rotten eggs. Unable to see what he was doing, Ron accidentally squashed his beetle with his elbow and had to ask for a new one. Professor McGonagall wasn't pleased.
　　Harry was relieved to hear the lunch bell. His brain felt like a wrung sponge. Everyone fiIed out of the classroom except him and Ron, who was whacking his wand furiously on the desk.
　　"Stupid - useless - thing -"
　　"Write home for another one," Harry suggested as the wand let off a volley of bangs like a firecracker.
　　"Oh, yeah, and get another Howler back," said Ron, stuffing the now hissing wand into his bag. " `It's your own fault your wand got snapped - '"
　　They went down to lunch, where Ron's mood was not improved by Hermione's showing them the handful of perfect coat buttons she had produced in Transfiguration.
　　"What've we got this afternoon?" said Harry, hastily changing the subject.
　　"Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione at once.
　　"Why, "demanded Ron, seizing her schedule, "have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"
　　Hermione snatched the schedule back, blushing furiously.
　　* 95 *
　　They finished lunch and went outside into the overcast courtyard. Hermione sat down on a stone step and buried her nose in Voyages with Vampires again. Harry and Ron stood talking about Quidditch for several minutes before Harry became aware that he was being closely watched. Looking up, he saw the very small, mousy-haired boy he'd seen trying on the Sorting Hat last night staring at Harry as though transfixed. He was clutching what looked like an ordinary Muggle camera, and the moment Harry looked at him, he went bright red.
　　"All right, Harry? I'm -I'm Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward. "I'm in Gryffindor, too. D'you think - would it be all right if - can I have a picture?" he said, raising the camera hopefully.
　　"A picture?" Harry repeated blankly.
　　"So I can prove I've met you," said Colin Creevey eagerly, edging further forward. "I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead" (his eyes raked Harry's hairline) "and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll move." Colin drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and said, "It's amazing here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it'd be really good if I had one of you" - he looked imploringly at Harry - "maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?"
　　96
　　"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?"
　　Loud and scathing, Draco Malfoy's voice echoed around the courtyard. He had stopped right behind Colin, flanked, as he always was at Hogwarts, by his large and thuggish cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.
　　"Everyone line up!" Malfoy roared to the crowd. "Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"
　　"No, I'm not," said Harry angrily, his fists clenching. "Shut up, Malfoy."
　　"You're just jealous," piped up Colin, whose entire body was about as thick as Crabbe's neck.
　　`jealous?"said Malfoy, who didn't need to shout anymore: half the courtyard was listening in. "Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself."
　　Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering stupidly.
　　"Eat slugs, Malfoy," said Ron angrily. Crabbe stopped laughing and started rubbing his knuckles in a menacing way.
　　"Be careful, Weasley," sneered Malfoy. "You don't want to start any trouble or your Mommy'll have to come and take you away from school." He put on a shrill, piercing voice. "Ifyou put another toe out of line' - "
　　A knot of Slytherin fifth-years nearby laughed loudly at this.
　　"Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter," smirked Malfoy. "It'd be worth more than his family's whole house -"
　　Ron whipped out his Spellotaped wand, but Hermione shut Voyages with Vampires with a snap and whispered, "Look out!"
　　"What's all this, what's all this?" Gilderoy Lockhart was striding
　　* 97
　　toward them, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. "Who's giv ing out signed photos?" Harry started to speak but he was cut short as Lockhart flung an arm around his shoulders and thundered jovially, "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harry!" Pinned to Lockhart's side and burning with humiliation, Harry saw Malfoy slide smirking back into the crowd. "Come on then, Mr. Creevey," said Lockhart, beaming at Colin. "A double portrait, can't do better than that, and we'll both sign it for you." Colin fumbled for his camera and took the picture as the bell rang behind them, signaling the start of afternoon classes. "Off you go, move along there," Lockhart called to the crowd, and he set off back to the castle with Harry, who was wishing he knew a good Vanishing Spell, still clasped to his side. "A word to the wise, Harry," said Lockhart paternally as they entered the building through a side door. "I covered up for you back there with young Creevey - if he was photographing me, too, your schoolmates won't think you're setting yourself up so much . . . ." Deaf to Harry's stammers, Lockhart swept him down a corridor lined with staring students and up a staircase. "Let me just say that handing out signed pictures at this stage of your career isn't sensible - looks a tad bigheaded, Harry, to be frank. There may well come a time when, like me, you'll need to keep a stack handy wherever you go, but" - he gave a little chor tle - "I don't think you're quite there yet." They had reached Lockhart's classroom and he let Harry go at
　　98
　　last. Harry yanked his robes straight and headed for a seat at the very back of the class, where he busied himself with piling all seven of Lockhart's books in front of him, so that he could avoid looking at the real thing.
　　The rest of the class came clattering in, and Ron and Hermione sat down on either side of Harry.
　　"You could've fried an egg on your face" said Ron. "You'd better hope Creevey doesn't meet Ginny, or they'll be starting a Harry Potter fan club."
　　"Shut up," snapped Harry. The last thing he needed was for Lockhart to hear the phrase "Harry Potter fan club."
　　When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom's copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.
　　"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most- Charming-Smile Award - but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"
　　He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.
　　"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books -well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about
　　just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in -"
　　When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes - start - now!"
　　Harry looked down at his paper and read:
　　1.    What is Gilderoy Lockhart 's favorite color?
　　2.    What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?
　　3.    What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?
　　On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:
　　4.    When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?
　　Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.
　　"Tut, tut - hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully - I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples - though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogdeds Old Firewhisky!"
　　He gave them another roguish wink. Ron was now staring at Lockhart with an expression of disbelief on his face; Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were sitting in front, were shaking with silent laughter. Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart with rapt attention and gave a start when he mentioned her name.
　　". . . but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions - good girl! In fact" - he flipped her paper over - "full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"
　　*100*
　　Hermione raised a trembling hand.
　　"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so - to business -"
　　He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.
　　"Now - be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."
　　In spite of himself, Harry leaned around his pile of books for a better look at the cage. Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Dean and Seamus had stopped laughing now. Neville was cowering in his front row seat.
　　"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."
　　As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.
　　"Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies. "
　　Seamus Finnigan couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.
　　"Yes?" He smiled at Seamus.
　　"Well, they're not - they're not very - dangerous, are they?" Seamus choked.
　　"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"
　　The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they
　　*101*
　　had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.
　　"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!" And he opened the cage.
　　It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, up-ended the waste basket, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window; within minutes, half the class was sheltering under desks and Neville was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling.
　　"Come on now - round them up, round them up, they're only pixies," Lockhart shouted.
　　He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed,
　　"Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"
　　It had absolutely no effect; one of the pixies seized his wand and threw it out of the window, too. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed by Neville, who fell a second later as the chandelier gave way.
　　The bell rang and there was a mad rush toward the exit. In the relative calm that followed, Lockhart straightened up, caught sight of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were almost at the door, and said, "Well, I'll ask you three to just nip the rest of them back into their cage." He swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him.
　　*102*
　　"Can you believe him?" roared Ron as one of the remaining pixies bit him painfully on the ear.
　　"He just wants to give us some hands-on experience," said Hermione, immobilizing two pixies at once with a clever Freezing Charm and stuffing them back into their cage.
　　"Hands on? "said Harry, who was trying to grab a pixie dancing out of reach with its tongue out. "Hermione, he didn't have a clue what he was doing -"
　　"Rubbish," said Hermione. "You've read his books - look at all those amazing things he's done -"
　　"He says he's done," Ron muttered.
　　arry spent a lot of time over the next few days dodging out of sight whenever he saw Gilderoy Lockhart coming down a corridor. Harder to avoid was Colin Creevey, who seemed to have memorized Harry's schedule. Nothing seemed to give Colin a bigger thrill than to say, "All right, Harry?" six or seven times a day and hear, "Hello, Colin," back, however exasperated Harry sounded when he said it.
　　Hedwig was still angry with Harry about the disasterous car journey and Ron's wand was still malfunctioning, surpassing itself on Friday morning by shooting out of Ron's hand in Charms and hitting tiny old Professor Flitwick squarely between the eyes, creating a large, throbbing green boil where it had struck. So with one thing and another, Harry was quite glad to reach the weekend. He, Ron, and Hermione were planning to visit Hagrid on Saturday morning. Harry, however, was shaken awake several hours earlier
　　*104*
　　than he would have liked by Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
　　"Whassamatter?" said Harry groggily.
　　"Quidditch practice!" said Wood. "Come on!"
　　Harry squinted at the window. There was a thin mist hanging across the pink-and-gold sky. Now that he was awake, he couldn't understand how he could have slept through the racket the birds were making.
　　"Oliver," Harry croaked. "It's the crack of dawn."
　　"Exactly," said Wood. He was a tall and burly sixth year and, at the moment, his eyes were gleaming with a crazed enthusiasm. "It's part of our new training program. Come on, grab your broom, and let's go," said Wood heartily. "None of the other teams have started training yet; we're going to be first off the mark this year -"
　　Yawning and shivering slightly, Harry climbed out of bed and tried to find his Quidditch robes.
　　"Good man," said Wood. "Meet you on the field in fifteen minutes.
　　When he'd found his scarlet team robes and pulled on his cloak for warmth, Harry scribbled a note to Ron explaining where he'd gone and went down the spiral staircase to the common room, his Nimbus Two Thousand on his shoulder. He had just reached the portrait hole when there was a clatter behind him and Colin Creevey came dashing down the spiral staircase, his camera swinging madly around his neck and something clutched in his hand.
　　"I heard someone saying your name on the stairs, Harry! Look what I've got here! I've had it developed, I wanted to show you -"

第七章　泥巴种和细语
　
　

　
　　在以后的几天里，哈利一看见吉德罗洛哈特从走廊那头走过来，就赶紧躲着走。但更难躲开的是科林克里维，他似乎把哈利的课程表都背了下来。对科林来说，好像世界上最激动人心的事情，就是每天说六七次“你好，哈利？”并听到“你好，科林。”的回答，不管哈利回答的语气有多么无奈和恼怒。
　
　　海德薇还在为灾难性的汽车之旅而生哈利的气，罗恩的魔杖依然不正常，星期五上午更加出格。它在魔咒课上从罗恩手中飞了出去，打中了矮小的弗立维教授的眉心。那儿立刻就鼓起了一个绿色的大包，扑扑跳动着。由于这种种情况，哈利很高兴终于熬到了周末。他、罗恩和赫敏打算星期六早上去看海格。可是哈利一早就被格兰芬多魁地奇队队长奥利弗伍德摇醒了，他本来还想再睡几个小时的。
　
　　“什——什么事？”哈利迷迷糊糊地说。
　
　　“魁地奇训练！”伍德说，“快起来！”
　
　　哈利眯眼看看窗外，粉红淡金的天空中笼罩着一层薄薄的轻雾。外面的鸟叫声那么响亮，他奇怪自己刚才怎么没被吵醒。
　
　　“奥利弗，”哈利抱怨道，“天刚刚亮啊。”
　
　　“没错，”伍德是一个高大结实的六年级学生，此刻他眼睛里闪着狂热的光芒，“这是咱们新训练方案的一部分。快点儿，拿着你的飞天扫帚，跟我走。”伍德急切地说，“别的队都还没有开始训练，咱们今年要抢个第……”
　
　　哈利打着哈欠，微微哆嗉着，从床上爬了起来，开始找他的队服。
　
　　“好伙计，”伍德说，“一刻钟后在球场见。”
　
　　哈利找到了他的大红队服，并且为防寒披上了他的斗篷。他匆匆给罗恩留了一个条子，便顺着旋转楼梯向休息室走去，肩上扛着他那把光轮2000。刚走到肖像背后的洞口，忽昕身后一阵啪哒啪哒的脚步声，科林克里维从楼梯上奔下来，脖子上的照相机剧烈摆动着，手里攥着什么东西。
　
　　“哈利！我在楼梯上听到有人喊你的名字。你看我带来了什么！照片洗出来了，我想让你看看——”
　
　　哈利愣愣地看着科林向他挥舞的那张照片。一个黑白的、会动的洛哈特正在使劲拽着一只胳膊，哈利认出那胳膊是自己的。他高兴地看到照片上的自己奋力抵抗，不肯被拖进去。洛哈特终于放弃了，朝着照片的白边喘气。
　
　　“你能给签个字吗？”科林急切地问。
　
　　“不行。”哈利断然地说，扫了一眼周围是否还有别人，“对不起，科林，我有急事——魁地奇训练。”
　
　　他从肖像洞口爬了出去。
　
　　“哇！等等我！我从来没看过打魁地奇！”
　
　　科林急忙跟着爬出来。
　
　　“很枯燥的。”哈利忙说，可是科林不听，兴奋得脸上放光。
　
　　“你是一百年来最年轻的学院队球员，对吗，哈利？你是吧？”科林在他旁边小跑着说，“你一定特棒。我从来没有飞过，难不难？这是你的飞天扫帚吗？它是不是最好的？”
　
　　哈利不知道怎么才能摆脱他，就好像身边跟了个特别爱说话的影子。
　
　　“我不大懂魁地奇，”科林神往地说，“是不是有四个球？其中两个飞来飞去，要把球员从飞天扫帚上撞下来？”
　
　　“对，”哈利吐了口粗气，无可奈何地开始解释魁地奇的复杂规则，“它们叫游走球。每个队有两名队员用棍子把游走球赶开。弗雷德和乔治韦斯莱是格兰芬多的击球手。”
　
　　“其他的球是于什么用的？”科林问，张嘴望着哈利，下楼梯时绊了一下。
　
　　“哦，鬼飞球，就是那个红色的大球，是进球得分用的。每个队有三名追球手把鬼飞球传来传去，设法使它穿过球场顶头的球门，就是三根顶上有圆环的长柱子。”
　
　　“第四个球——”
　
　　“——叫金色飞贼，”哈利说，“它非常小，非常快，很难抓到。可是找球手必须把它抓住，因为不抓住飞贼，魁地奇比赛就不会结束。抓到飞贼能加一百五十分。”
　
　　“你是格兰芬多的找球手，是吗？”科林钦佩地问。
　
　　“是。”哈利说，他们离开城堡，走到带着露水的草地上，“还有一个守门员，负责把守球门。就是这样。”
　
　　可是在沿草坡走向球场的一路上，科林仍然不停地问这问那，一直到更衣室门口，哈利才把他甩掉。科林在他身后尖声叫道：“我去找个好座位，哈利！”然后匆匆向看台跑去。
　
　　格兰芬多队的其他球员已经在更衣室了。看上去只有伍德是完全醒了。弗雷德和乔治韦斯莱坐在那里，眼圈浮肿，头发乱蓬蓬的。旁边的四年级女生艾丽娅斯平内特好像靠在墙上打起了瞌睡。另两名追球手，凯蒂贝尔和安吉利娜约翰逊坐在对面，连连打着哈欠。
　
　　“你来了，哈利，怎么这么晚？”伍德精神抖擞地说道，“好，在上球场之前，我想简单说几句，我这一暑假在家设计出了一套新的训练方案，我想一定有效……”
　
　　伍德举起一块魁地奇球场的大型示意图，上面绘有各种颜色的线条、箭头和叉叉。他取出魔杖，朝着图板上一点，那些箭头就像毛毛虫一样在图板上蠕动起来。五德开始讲解他的新战术，弗雷德韦斯莱的头垂到了艾丽娅的肩上，打起了呼噜。
　
　　第一块图板用了将近二十分钟才讲完，可是它下面还有第二块、第三块。伍德单调的声音在那里讲啊讲啊，哈利进入了恍惚状态。
　
　　“就这样，”伍德终于说，一下子把哈利从幻想中惊醒了，因为他这时正在想城堡里会吃些什么早点，“清楚了吗？有什么问题？”
　
　　“我有个问题，奥利弗，”刚刚惊醒过来的乔治说，“你为什么不在昨天我们都醒着的时候跟我们说呢？”
　
　　伍德有些不快。“听着，伙计们，”他沉着脸说，“我们去年就该赢得魁地奇奖杯的。我们的水平明显高于其他球队，不幸的是，由于一些我们无法控制的情况……”
　
　　哈利在椅子上内疚地动了动，去年最后决赛时他躺在医院里，昏迷不醒，格兰芬多少了一个球员，结果遭到了三百年来最大的惨败。
　
　　伍德用了一些时间控制住自己的情绪，上次失败的痛楚显然还在折磨着他。
　
　　“所以今年我们要加倍发奋苦练……好，去把我们的新理论付诸实践吧！”伍德大声说，抓起他的扫帚，带头走出了更衣室；他的队员们打着哈欠，拖着麻木的双腿跟在后面。
　
　　他们在更衣室里待了那么久，太阳都已经升得老高了，但体育场的草坪上还飘浮着一些残雾。哈利走进球场时，发现罗恩和赫敏坐在看台上。
　
　　“还没练完呀？”罗恩不相信地问。
　
　　“还没开始练呢，”哈利羡慕地看着罗恩和赫敏从大礼堂里带出来的面包和果酱，“伍德给我们讲了新战术。”
　
　　他骑上扫帚，用脚蹬地，嗖地飞了起来。凉爽的晨风拍打着他的面颊，比起伍德的长篇大论来，一下子就让他清醒多了。回到魁地奇球场感觉真好。他以最快的速度绕着体育场高飞，与弗雷德和乔治比赛。
　
　　“哪里来的咔嚓声？”他们疾速转弯时，弗雷德喊道。
　
　　哈利朝看台上望去。科林坐在最高一排的座位上，举着照相机，一张接一张地拍着，在空旷的体育场里，快门的声音被奇怪地放大了。
　
　　“朝这边看，哈利！”科林尖声喊道。
　
　　“那是谁？”弗雷德问。
　
　　“不知道。”哈利撒了个谎，猛然加速，尽可能地远离科林。
　
　　“怎么回事？”伍德飞到他们身边，皱着眉头问，“那个新生为什么拍照？我不喜欢。他可能是斯莱特林的奸细，想刺探我们的新训练方案。”
　
　　“他是格兰芬多的。”哈利忙说。
　
　　“斯莱特林的人也不需要奸细，奥利弗。”乔治说。
　
　　“你怎么知道？”伍德暴躁地问。
　
　　“因为他们自己来了。”乔治指着下面说。
　
　　几个穿着绿袍子的人走进球场，手里都拿着飞天扫帚。
　
　　“我简直不能相信！”伍德愤慨地压着声音说，“我包了今天的球场！我们倒要看看！”
　
　　伍德冲向地面，因为怒气冲冲，落地时比他预想的重了一些。他有些摇晃地跨下扫帚。哈利、弗雷德和乔治跟着落了下来。
　
　　“弗林特！”伍德冲斯莱特林队的队长吼道，“这是我们的训练时间！我们专门起了个大早！请你们出去！”
　
　　马库斯弗林特比伍德还要魁梧。他带着巨怪般的狡猾神情答道：“这里地方很大，伍德。”
　
　　艾丽娅、安吉利娜和凯蒂也寻声过来了。斯莱特林队的队员中没有女生，他们肩并肩站成一排，带着一模一样的神气斜眼瞟着格兰芬多队的队员。
　
　　“可是我包了球场！”伍德厉声说，“我包下了！”
　
　　“噢，”弗林特说，“可我有斯内普教授特签的条子。本人，西·斯内普教授，允许斯莱特林队今日到魁地奇球场训练，培训他们新的找球手。”
　
　　“你们新添了一名找球手？”伍德的注意力被转移了，“在哪儿？”
　
　　从六个高大的队员身后闪出了一个身量较小的男生，苍白的尖脸上挂着一副得意的笑容。正是德拉科马尔福。
　
　　“你不是卢修斯马尔福的儿子吗？”弗雷德厌恶地问。
　
　　“你居然提到德拉科的父亲，有意思，”斯莱特林队的全体队员笑得更得意了，“那就请你看看他慷慨送给斯莱特林队的礼物吧。”
　
　　七个人一齐把扫帚往前一举，七根崭新的、光滑锃亮的飞天扫帚，七行漂亮的金字“光轮200l”，在早晨的阳光下晃着格兰芬多队员的眼睛。
　
　　“最新型号，上个月刚出来的，”弗林特毫不在意地说，轻轻掸去他那把扫帚顶上的一点灰尘，“我相信它比旧的光轮2000系列快得多。至于老式的横扫七星，”他不怀好意地朝弗雷德和乔治笑了一下，他们俩手里各攥着一把横扫七星5号，“用它们扫地板吧。”
　
　　格兰芬多队的队员一时都说不出话来。马尔福笑得那么开心，冷漠的眼睛都变成了一条缝。
　
　　“哦，看哪，”弗林特说，“有人闯进了球场。”
　
　　罗恩和赫敏从草坪上走过来看看出了什么事。
　
　　“怎么啦？”罗恩问哈利，“你们怎么不打球？他在这儿干什么？”
　
　　罗恩吃惊地看着正在穿斯莱特林魁地奇队队服的马尔福。
　
　　“我是斯莱特林队的新找球手，韦斯莱，”马尔福洋洋自得地说，“刚才大家在欣赏我爸爸给我们队买的扫帚。”
　
　　罗恩目瞪口呆地望着面前那七把高级的扫帚。
　
　　“很不错，是不是？”马尔福和颜悦色地说，“不过，也许格兰芬多队也能搞到一些金子买几把新扫帚呢。你们可以兑奖出售那些横扫七星5号，我想博物馆会出价要它们的。”
　
　　斯莱特林的队员们粗声大笑。
　
　　“至少格兰芬多队中没有一个队员需要花钱才能入队，”赫敏尖刻地说道，“他们完全是凭能力进来的。”
　
　　马尔福得意的脸色暗了一下。“没人问你，你这个臭烘烘的小泥巴种。”他狠狠地说。
　
　　哈利马上知道马尔福说了句很难听的话，因为它立即引起了爆炸性的反应。弗林特不得不冲到德拉科前面，防止弗雷德和乔治扑到他身上。艾丽娅尖叫道：“你怎么敢！”罗恩伸手从袍里拔出魔杖，高喊着：“你要为它付出代价，马尔福！”他狂怒地从弗林特的臂膀下面指着马尔福的脸。
　
　　巨大的爆炸声响彻了整个体育场，一道绿光从魔杖后部射出来，击中了罗恩的腹部，撞得他趔趄两步倒在地上。
　
　　“罗恩！罗恩！你没事吗？”赫敏尖叫道。
　
　　罗恩张嘴想回答，却没有吐出话来，而是打了个大嗝，几条鼻涕虫从他嘴里落到了大腿上。
　
　　斯莱特林队的队员们都笑瘫了。弗林特笑得直不起腰，用新扫帚支撑着。马尔福四肢着地，两个拳头捶着地面。格兰芬多队的队员围在罗恩身边，他不断地吐出亮晶晶的大鼻涕虫。似乎没有人愿意碰他。
　
　　“我们最好带他到海格那儿去，那儿最近。”哈利对赫敏说，她勇敢地点了点头。他们俩拽着罗恩的胳膊把他拉了起来。
　
　　“怎么了，哈利？怎么了？他病了吗？但你能治好他的，是不是？”科林跑了过来，连蹦带跳地跟着他们走出球场。
　
　　罗恩身体剧烈地起伏了一下，更多的鼻涕虫落到了他胸前。
　
　　“哦——”科林大感兴趣地举起照相机，“你能把他扶住不动吗，哈利？”
　
　　“走开，科林！”哈利生气地说。他和赫敏扶着罗恩走出体育场，朝森林边上走去。
　
　　“快到了，罗恩，”赫敏说，狩猎场看守的小屋出现在眼前，“你一会儿就会没事了……就快到了……”
　
　　他们走到离海格的小屋只有二十来步对，房门忽然开了，但踱出来的不是海格，而是吉德罗洛哈特，他今天穿了一身最淡的淡紫色长袍。
　
　　“快躲起来。”哈利小声说，拉着罗恩藏到最近的一丛灌木后面。赫敏也跟着藏了起来，但有点不情愿。
　
　　“如果你会了的话，做起来是很简单的！”洛哈特在高声对海格说话，“如果需要什么帮助，尽管来找我，你知道我在哪儿！我会给你一本我写的书——我很惊讶你竟然还没有一本。我今晚就签上名字送过来。好，再见！”他大步朝城堡走去。
　
　　哈利一直等到洛哈特走得看不见了，才把罗恩从灌木丛后面拉出来，走到海格的门前，急迫地敲门。海格马上出来了，一脸怒气，可是一看清门外是他们，立刻眉开眼笑了。“一直在念叨你们什么时候会来看我——进来，进来——我刚才还以为是洛哈特教授又回来了呢。”
　
　　哈利和赫敏搀着罗恩跨过门槛，走进小屋，一面墙角摆着一张特大的床，另一面，炉火在欢快地噼啪作响。哈利扶罗恩坐到椅子上，急切地对海格讲了罗恩吐鼻涕虫的情况，海格似乎并不怎么担心。
　
　　“吐出来比咽下去好，”他愉快地说着，找了只大铜盆搁在罗恩面前，“全吐出来，罗恩。”
　
　　“我想除了等它自己停止之外没有别的办法，”看着罗恩俯在铜盆上面，赫敏忧虑地说，“即使在最好的条件下，那也是一个很难施的魔咒，你用一根破魔杖……”
　
　　海格忙着给他们煮茶。他的大猎狗牙牙把口水滴到了哈利身上。
　
　　“洛哈特来你这儿干吗，海格？”哈利挠着牙牙的耳朵问。
　
　　“教我怎么防止水妖钻进水井，”海格愤愤地说，从擦得很干净的桌子上拿走一只拔了一半毛的公鸡，摆上茶壶，“好像我不知道似的。还吹嘘他怎么驱除女鬼。其中要有一句是真的，我就把茶壶给吃了。”
　
　　批评霍格沃茨的教师，这完全不像海格的为人，哈利吃惊地看着他。赫敏则用比平常稍高的声调说：“我想你有点不公正，邓布利多教授显然认为他是最合适的人选——”
　
　　“是惟一的人选，”海格给他们端上一盘乳脂软糖，罗恩对着脸盆吭吭地咳着，“我是说惟一的一个。现在找一个黑魔法防御术课老师很难，人们都不大想干，觉得这工作不吉利。没有一个干得长的。告诉我，”海格扭头看着罗恩说，“他想咒谁来着？”
　
　　“马尔福骂了赫敏一句，一定是很恶毒的话，因为大家都气坏了。”
　
　　“非常恶毒，”罗恩嘶哑地说，在桌子边露出头来，脸色苍白，汗涔涔的，“马尔福叫她‘泥巴种’，海格——”罗恩忙又俯下身，新的一批鼻涕虫冲了出来。
　
　　海格显得很愤慨。“是真的吗？”他看着赫敏吼道。
　
　　“是的，”她说，“可我不知道那是什么意思。当然，我听得出它非常粗鲁
……”
　
　　“这是他能想到的最侮辱人的话，”罗恩又露出头来，气喘吁吁地说，“泥巴种是对麻瓜出身的人——也就是父母都不会魔法的人的诬蔑性的称呼。有些巫师，像马尔福一家，总觉得他们比其他人优越，因为他们是所谓的纯种。”他打了个小嗝，一条鼻涕虫掉到他的手心里。他把它丢进脸盆，继续说道：“其实，我们其他人都知道这根本就没有关系。你看纳威隆巴顿——他是个纯种，可他连坩埚都放不正确。”
　
　　“咱们赫敏不会使的魔咒，他们还没发明出来呢！”海格自豪地说，赫敏羞得脸上红艳艳的。
　
　　“这是个很难听的称呼，”罗恩用颤抖的手擦了擦额头上的汗水，说，“意思是肮脏的、劣等的血统。全是疯话。现在大部分巫师都是混血的。要是不和麻瓜通婚，我们早就绝种了。”
　
　　他干呕了一下，忙又俯下身去。
　
　　“嗯，我不怪你想咒他，罗恩，”海格在鼻涕虫落到盆里的啪哒声中大声说道，“不过你的魔杖出了故障也许倒是好事。要是你真咒倒了那小子，卢修斯马尔福就会气势汹汹地找到学校来了。至少你没惹麻烦。”
　
　　哈利本想指出，再大的麻烦也不会比嘴里吐出鼻涕虫糟糕多少，可是他张不开嘴，海格的乳脂软糖把他的上下牙粘在一起了。
　
　　“哈利，”海格好像突然想到什么似的说，“我要跟你算算账。听说你发签名照片了，我怎么没拿到啊？”
　
　　哈利怒不可遏，使劲张开被粘住的嘴。“我没发签名照片，”他激烈地抗议道，“要是洛哈特还在散布这种谣言——”
　
　　可是他看到海格笑了。“我是开玩笑，”他亲切地拍了拍哈利的后背，拍得哈利的脸磕到了桌面上。“我知道你没有。我告诉洛哈特你不需要那样做。你不用花心思就已经比他有名了。”
　
　　“我敢说他听了不大高兴。”哈利坐直身体，揉着下巴说。
　
　　“我想是不大高兴，”海格眼里闪着光，“然后我又对他说我从来没读过他的书，他就决定告辞了。来点儿乳脂软糖吗，罗恩？”看到罗恩又抬起头来，他问了一句。
　
　　“不，谢谢，”罗恩虚弱地说，“最好不要冒险。”
　
　　“来看看我种的东西吧。”哈利和赫敏喝完茶之后，海格说。
　
　　小屋后面的菜地里，结了十二个大南瓜。哈利从来没见过这么大的南瓜，每个足有半人高。
　
　　“长得还不错吧？”海格喜滋滋地说，“万圣节宴会上用的——到那时就足够大了。”
　
　　“你给它们施了什么肥？”哈利问。
　
　　海格左右看看有没有人。“嘿嘿，我给了它们一点儿——怎么说呢——一点儿帮助。”
　
　　哈利发现海格那把粉红色的伞靠在小屋后墙上。哈利原先就有理由相信，这把雨伞绝不像看起来的那么普通。实际上，他非常疑心海格上学时用的旧魔杖就藏在伞里。海格是不能使用魔法的。他上三年级时被霍格沃茨开除了，但哈利一直没搞清为什么。一提到这件事，海格就会大声清一清嗓子，神秘地装聋作哑，直到话题转移。
　
　　“是膨胀魔咒吧？”赫敏有几分不以为然，可又觉得非常有趣，“哦，你干得很成功。”
　
　　“你的小妹妹也是这么说的。”海格朝罗恩点着头说，“昨天刚见到她。”海格瞟了哈利一眼，胡子抖动着。“她说随便走走看看，我想她大概是希望在我的屋里碰到什么人吧。”他朝哈利眨了眨眼。“要我说，她是不会拒绝一张签名
——”
　
　　“哎呀，别胡说。”哈利急道。
　
　　罗恩扑哧一声笑起来，鼻涕虫喷到了地上。
　
　　“当心！”海格吼了一声，把罗恩从他的宝贝南瓜旁边拉开。
　
　　快到吃午饭的时间了，哈利从清早到现在只吃了一点乳脂软糖，所以一心想回学校吃饭。三人向海格道别，一起走回城堡，罗恩偶尔打一个嗝，但只吐出两条很小的鼻涕虫。
　
　　刚踏进阴凉的门厅，就听一个声音响起。“你们回来了，波特、韦斯莱，”麦格教授板着脸向他们走来，“你们俩晚上留下来。”
　
　　“我们要做什么，老师？”罗恩问，一面紧张地忍住一个嗝。
　
　　“你去帮费尔奇先生擦奖品陈列室里的银器，”麦格教授说道，“不许用魔法，韦斯莱——全用手擦。”
　
　　罗恩倒吸一口气。看门人费尔奇是所有学生都憎恨的人。
　
　　“波特，你去帮洛哈特教授给他的崇拜者回信。”麦格教授说。
　
　　“啊，不要，我也去擦奖品行吗？”哈利绝望地乞求。
　
　　“当然不行，”麦格教授扬起眉毛，“洛哈特教授点名要你。你们俩记住，晚上八点整。”
　
　　哈利和罗恩垂头丧气地走进大礼堂，赫敏跟在后面，脸上的表情仿佛是说：“你们的确违反了校规嘛。”
　
　　饭桌上，连肉馅土豆泥饼都提不起哈利的胃口。他和罗恩都觉得自己比对方更倒霉。
　
　　“费尔奇可要了我的命了，”罗恩哭丧着脸说，“不用魔法！那间屋里起码有一百个奖杯呢。我又不像麻瓜们那样擅长擦洗。”
　
　　“我随时愿意跟你换，”哈利没精打采地说，“擦擦洗洗的这类活儿，我在德思礼家没少练过。可是给洛哈特的崇拜者回信……那准像一场噩梦……”
　
　　星期六下午不知不觉就过去了，一晃就到了八点差五分，哈利满不情愿地拖动双脚，沿三楼走廊向洛哈特的办公室走去。他咬咬牙，敲响了房门。
　
　　门立刻开了，洛哈特满面笑容地看着他。
　
　　“啊，小坏蛋来了！进来，哈利，进来吧。”
　
　　墙上挂着数不清的洛哈特的像框，被许多支蜡烛照得十分明亮。有几张上甚至还有他的签名。桌上也放着一大叠照片。
　
　　“你可以写信封！”洛哈特对哈利说，仿佛这是好大的优惠似的，“第一封给格拉迪丝女士，上帝保佑她——我的一个热烈的崇拜者。”
　
　　时间过得像蜗牛爬。哈利听凭洛哈特在那里滔滔不绝，只偶尔答一声“唔”
“啊”“是”。有时有那么一两句刮到他耳朵里，什么“名气是个反复无常的朋友，哈利”，或“记住，名人就得有名人的架子”。
　
　　蜡烛烧得越来越短，火光在许多张注视着他们的、会动的洛哈特的面孔上跳动。哈利用酸痛的手写着维罗妮卡斯美斯丽的地址，感觉这是第一千个信封了。时间快到了吧，哈利痛苦地想，求求你快到吧……突然他听到了一种声音——一种与残烛发出的噼啪声或洛哈特的絮叨完全不同的声音。
　
　　那是一个说话声，一个令人毛骨悚然、呼吸停止、冰冷恶毒的说话声。
　
　　“来……过来……让我撕你……撕裂你……杀死你……”
　
　　哈利猛地一跳，维罗妮卡·斯美斯丽地址的街道名上出现了一大团丁香色的墨渍。
　
　　“什么？”他大声说。
　
　　“我知道！”洛哈特说，“六个月连续排在畅销书榜首！空前的记录！”
　
　　“不是，”哈利发狂地说，“那个声音！”
　
　　“对不起，”洛哈特迷惑地问道，“什么声音？”
　
　　“那个——那个声音说——你没听见吗？”洛哈特十分惊愕地看着哈利。
　
　　“你在说什么，哈利？你可能有点犯困了吧？老天爷——看看都几点了！我们在这儿待了将近四个小时！我真不敢相信——时间过得真快。是不是？”
　
　　哈利没有回答。他竖起耳朵听那个声音，可是再也没有了，只听见洛哈特还在对他唠叨，说他别指望每次被罚留校都有这么好的运气。哈利带着一肚子疑惑离开了。
　
　　格兰芬多的公共休息室里几乎没有人了。哈利直接上楼回到宿舍，罗恩还没有回来。哈利穿上睡衣，躺到床上等着。一小时后，罗恩揉着右胳膊进来了，给黑暗的房间里带来一股去污光亮剂的气味。
　
　　“我的肌肉都僵了。”他呻吟着倒在床上，“他让我把那个魁地奇奖杯擦了十四遍才满意。后来我在擦一块‘对学校特殊贡献奖’的奖牌时，又吐了一回鼻涕虫，花了一个世纪才擦掉那些黏液……洛哈特那儿怎么样？”
　
　　哈利压低嗓门，免得吵醒纳威、迪安和西莫，把他听到的声音告诉了罗恩。
　
　　“洛哈特说他没听见？”罗恩问。月光下，哈利看到罗恩皱着眉头。“你觉得他是撒谎吗？可我想不通——就是隐形人也需要开门啊。”
　
　　“是啊，”哈利躺下去，盯着四柱床的顶篷，“我也想不通。”

　

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【连载】《哈利波特》---《Harry Potter》中英对照_派派后花园

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