《Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows》——哈利波特与死亡圣器（中英文对照）完结_派派后花园

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[Novel] 《Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows》——哈利波特与死亡圣器（中英文对照）完结

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Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows is the seventh and final of the Harry Potter novels written by British author J. K. Rowling. The book was released on 21 July 2007, ending the series that began in 1997 with the publication of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. This book chronicles the events directly following Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (2005), and leads to the long-awaited final confrontation between Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort.
　　还有四天，哈利就要迎来自己十七岁的生日，成为一名真正的魔法师。然而，他不得不提前离开女贞路4号，永远离开这个他曾经生活过十六年的地方。凤凰社的成员精心谋划了秘密转移哈利的计划，以防哈利遭到伏地魔及其追随者食死徒的袭击。然而，可怕的意外还是发生了……
　　哈利在罗恩、赫敏的陪伴下，不得不逃亡在外，隐形遁迹。为了完成校长邓布利多的遗命，一直在暗中寻机销毁伏地魔魂器的哈利，意外地获悉如果他们能够拥有传说中的三件死亡圣器，伏地魔将必死无疑。但是，伏地魔也早已开始了寻找死亡圣器的行动，并派出众多食死徒，布下天罗地网追捕哈利……


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Chapter 41
New Voices in the Waves

All is going on as it was wont. The waves are hoarse with repetition of their mystery; the dust lies piled upon the shore; the sea-birds soar and hover; the winds and clouds go forth upon their trackless flight; the white arms beckon, in the moonlight, to the invisible country far away.
With a tender melancholy pleasure, Florence finds herself again on the old ground so sadly trodden, yet so happily, and thinks of him in the quiet place, where he and she have many and many a time conversed together, with the water welling up about his couch. And now, as she sits pensive there, she hears in the wild low murmur of the sea, his little story told again, his very words repeated; and finds that all her life and hopes, and griefs, since - in the solitary house, and in the pageant it has changed to - have a portion in the burden of the marvellous song.
And gentle Mr Toots, who wanders at a distance, looking wistfully towards the figure that he dotes upon, and has followed there, but cannot in his delicacy disturb at such a time, likewise hears the requiem of little Dombey on the waters, rising and falling in the lulls of their eternal madrigal in praise of Florence. Yes! and he faintly understands, poor Mr Toots, that they are saying something of a time when he was sensible of being brighter and not addle-brained; and the tears rising in his eyes when he fears that he is dull and stupid now, and good for little but to be laughed at, diminish his satisfaction in their soothing reminder that he is relieved from present responsibility to the Chicken, by the absence of that game head of poultry in the country, training (at Toots's cost) for his great mill with the Larkey Boy.
But Mr Toots takes courage, when they whisper a kind thought to him; and by slow degrees and with many indecisive stoppages on the way, approaches Florence. Stammering and blushing, Mr Toots affects amazement when he comes near her, and says (having followed close on the carriage in which she travelled, every inch of the way from London, loving even to be choked by the dust of its wheels) that he never was so surprised in all his life.
'And you've brought Diogenes, too, Miss Dombey!' says Mr Toots, thrilled through and through by the touch of the small hand so pleasantly and frankly given him.
No doubt Diogenes is there, and no doubt Mr Toots has reason to observe him, for he comes straightway at Mr Toots's legs, and tumbles over himself in the desperation with which he makes at him, like a very dog of Montargis. But he is checked by his sweet mistress.
'Down, Di, down. Don't you remember who first made us friends, Di? For shame!'
Oh! Well may Di lay his loving cheek against her hand, and run off, and run back, and run round her, barking, and run headlong at anybody coming by, to show his devotion. Mr Toots would run headlong at anybody, too. A military gentleman goes past, and Mr Toots would like nothing better than to run at him, full tilt.
'Diogenes is quite in his native air, isn't he, Miss Dombey?' says Mr Toots.
Florence assents, with a grateful smile.
'Miss Dombey,' says Mr Toots, 'beg your pardon, but if you would like to walk to Blimber's, I - I'm going there.'
Florence puts her arm in that of Mr Toots without a word, and they walk away together, with Diogenes going on before. Mr Toots's legs shake under him; and though he is splendidly dressed, he feels misfits, and sees wrinkles, in the masterpieces of Burgess and Co., and wishes he had put on that brightest pair of boots.
Doctor Blimber's house, outside, has as scholastic and studious an air as ever; and up there is the window where she used to look for the pale face, and where the pale face brightened when it saw her, and the wasted little hand waved kisses as she passed. The door is opened by the same weak-eyed young man, whose imbecility of grin at sight of Mr Toots is feebleness of character personified. They are shown into the Doctor's study, where blind Homer and Minerva give them audience as of yore, to the sober ticking of the great clock in the hall; and where the globes stand still in their accustomed places, as if the world were stationary too, and nothing in it ever perished in obedience to the universal law, that, while it keeps it on the roll, calls everything to earth.
And here is Doctor Blimber, with his learned legs; and here is Mrs Blimber, with her sky-blue cap; and here Cornelia, with her sandy little row of curls, and her bright spectacles, still working like a sexton in the graves of languages. Here is the table upon which he sat forlorn and strange, the 'new boy' of the school; and hither comes the distant cooing of the old boys, at their old lives in the old room on the old principle!
'Toots,' says Doctor Blimber, 'I am very glad to see you, Toots.'
Mr Toots chuckles in reply.
'Also to see you, Toots, in such good company,' says Doctor Blimber.
Mr Toots, with a scarlet visage, explains that he has met Miss Dombey by accident, and that Miss Dombey wishing, like himself, to see the old place, they have come together.
'You will like,' says Doctor Blimber, 'to step among our young friends, Miss Dombey, no doubt. All fellow-students of yours, Toots, once. I think we have no new disciples in our little portico, my dear,' says Doctor Blimber to Cornelia, 'since Mr Toots left us.'
'Except Bitherstone,' returns Cornelia.
'Ay, truly,' says the Doctor. 'Bitherstone is new to Mr Toots.'
New to Florence, too, almost; for, in the schoolroom, Bitherstone - no longer Master Bitherstone of Mrs Pipchin's - shows in collars and a neckcloth, and wears a watch. But Bitherstone, born beneath some Bengal star of ill-omen, is extremely inky; and his Lexicon has got so dropsical from constant reference, that it won't shut, and yawns as if it really could not bear to be so bothered. So does Bitherstone its master, forced at Doctor Blimber's highest pressure; but in the yawn of Bitherstone there is malice and snarl, and he has been heard to say that he wishes he could catch 'old Blimber' in India. He'd precious soon find himself carried up the country by a few of his (Bitherstone's) Coolies, and handed over to the Thugs; he can tell him that.
Briggs is still grinding in the mill of knowledge; and Tozer, too; and Johnson, too; and all the rest; the older pupils being principally engaged in forgetting, with prodigious labour, everything they knew when they were younger. All are as polite and as pale as ever; and among them, Mr Feeder, B.A., with his bony hand and bristly head, is still hard at it; with his Herodotus stop on just at present, and his other barrels on a shelf behind him.
A mighty sensation is created, even among these grave young gentlemen, by a visit from the emancipated Toots; who is regarded with a kind of awe, as one who has passed the Rubicon, and is pledged never to come back, and concerning the cut of whose clothes, and fashion of whose jewellery, whispers go about, behind hands; the bilious Bitherstone, who is not of Mr Toots's time, affecting to despise the latter to the smaller boys, and saying he knows better, and that he should like to see him coming that sort of thing in Bengal, where his mother had got an emerald belonging to him that was taken out of the footstool of a Rajah. Come now!
Bewildering emotions are awakened also by the sight of Florence, with whom every young gentleman immediately falls in love, again; except, as aforesaid, the bilious Bitherstone, who declines to do so, out of contradiction. Black jealousies of Mr Toots arise, and Briggs is of opinion that he ain't so very old after all. But this disparaging insinuation is speedily made nought by Mr Toots saying aloud to Mr Feeder, B.A., 'How are you, Feeder?' and asking him to come and dine with him to-day at the Bedford; in right of which feats he might set up as Old Parr, if he chose, unquestioned.
There is much shaking of hands, and much bowing, and a great desire on the part of each young gentleman to take Toots down in Miss Dombey's good graces; and then, Mr Toots having bestowed a chuckle on his old desk, Florence and he withdraw with Mrs Blimber and Cornelia; and Doctor Blimber is heard to observe behind them as he comes out last, and shuts the door, 'Gentlemen, we will now resume our studies,' For that and little else is what the Doctor hears the sea say, or has heard it saying all his life.
Florence then steals away and goes upstairs to the old bedroom with Mrs Blimber and Cornelia; Mr Toots, who feels that neither he nor anybody else is wanted there, stands talking to the Doctor at the study-door, or rather hearing the Doctor talk to him, and wondering how he ever thought the study a great sanctuary, and the Doctor, with his round turned legs, like a clerical pianoforte, an awful man. Florence soon comes down and takes leave; Mr Toots takes leave; and Diogenes, who has been worrying the weak-eyed young man pitilessly all the time, shoots out at the door, and barks a glad defiance down the cliff; while Melia, and another of the Doctor's female domestics, looks out of an upper window, laughing 'at that there Toots,' and saying of Miss Dombey, 'But really though, now - ain't she like her brother, only prettier?'
Mr Toots, who saw when Florence came down that there were tears upon her face, is desperately anxious and uneasy, and at first fears that he did wrong in proposing the visit. But he is soon relieved by her saying she is very glad to have been there again, and by her talking quite cheerfully about it all, as they walked on by the sea. What with the voices there, and her sweet voice, when they come near Mr Dombey's house, and Mr Toots must leave her, he is so enslaved that he has not a scrap of free-will left; when she gives him her hand at parting, he cannot let it go.
'Miss Dombey, I beg your pardon,' says Mr Toots, in a sad fluster, 'but if you would allow me to - to -
The smiling and unconscious look of Florence brings him to a dead stop.
'If you would allow me to - if you would not consider it a liberty, Miss Dombey, if I was to - without any encouragement at all, if I was to hope, you know,' says Mr Toots.
Florence looks at him inquiringly.
'Miss Dombey,' says Mr Toots, who feels that he is in for it now, 'I really am in that state of adoration of you that I don't know what to do with myself. I am the most deplorable wretch. If it wasn't at the corner of the Square at present, I should go down on my knees, and beg and entreat of you, without any encouragement at all, just to let me hope that I may - may think it possible that you -
'Oh, if you please, don't!' cries Florence, for the moment quite alarmed and distressed. 'Oh, pray don't, Mr Toots. Stop, if you please. Don't say any more. As a kindness and a favour to me, don't.'
Mr Toots is dreadfully abashed, and his mouth opens.
'You have been so good to me,' says Florence, 'I am so grateful to you, I have such reason to like you for being a kind friend to me, and I do like you so much;' and here the ingenuous face smiles upon him with the pleasantest look of honesty in the world; 'that I am sure you are only going to say good-bye!'
'Certainly, Miss Dombey,' says Mr Toots, 'I - I - that's exactly what I mean. It's of no consequence.'
'Good-bye!' cries Florence.
'Good-bye, Miss Dombey!' stammers Mr Toots. 'I hope you won't think anything about it. It's - it's of no consequence, thank you. It's not of the least consequence in the world.'
Poor Mr Toots goes home to his hotel in a state of desperation, locks himself into his bedroom, flings himself upon his bed, and lies there for a long time; as if it were of the greatest consequence, nevertheless. But Mr Feeder, B.A., is coming to dinner, which happens well for Mr Toots, or there is no knowing when he might get up again. Mr Toots is obliged to get up to receive him, and to give him hospitable entertainment.
And the generous influence of that social virtue, hospitality (to make no mention of wine and good cheer), opens Mr Toots's heart, and warms him to conversation. He does not tell Mr Feeder, B.A., what passed at the corner of the Square; but when Mr Feeder asks him 'When it is to come off?' Mr Toots replies, 'that there are certain subjects' - which brings Mr Feeder down a peg or two immediately. Mr Toots adds, that he don't know what right Blimber had to notice his being in Miss Dombey's company, and that if he thought he meant impudence by it, he'd have him out, Doctor or no Doctor; but he supposes its only his ignorance. Mr Feeder says he has no doubt of it.
Mr Feeder, however, as an intimate friend, is not excluded from the subject. Mr Toots merely requires that it should be mentioned mysteriously, and with feeling. After a few glasses of wine, he gives Miss Dombey's health, observing, 'Feeder, you have no idea of the sentiments with which I propose that toast.' Mr Feeder replies, 'Oh, yes, I have, my dear Toots; and greatly they redound to your honour, old boy.' Mr Feeder is then agitated by friendship, and shakes hands; and says, if ever Toots wants a brother, he knows where to find him, either by post or parcel. Mr Feeder like-wise says, that if he may advise, he would recommend Mr Toots to learn the guitar, or, at least the flute; for women like music, when you are paying your addresses to 'em, and he has found the advantage of it himself.
This brings Mr Feeder, B.A., to the confession that he has his eye upon Cornelia Blimber. He informs Mr Toots that he don't object to spectacles, and that if the Doctor were to do the handsome thing and give up the business, why, there they are - provided for. He says it's his opinion that when a man has made a handsome sum by his business, he is bound to give it up; and that Cornelia would be an assistance in it which any man might be proud of. Mr Toots replies by launching wildly out into Miss Dombey's praises, and by insinuations that sometimes he thinks he should like to blow his brains out. Mr Feeder strongly urges that it would be a rash attempt, and shows him, as a reconcilement to existence, Cornelia's portrait, spectacles and all.
Thus these quiet spirits pass the evening; and when it has yielded place to night, Mr Toots walks home with Mr Feeder, and parts with him at Doctor Blimber's door. But Mr Feeder only goes up the steps, and when Mr Toots is gone, comes down again, to stroll upon the beach alone, and think about his prospects. Mr Feeder plainly hears the waves informing him, as he loiters along, that Doctor Blimber will give up the business; and he feels a soft romantic pleasure in looking at the outside of the house, and thinking that the Doctor will first paint it, and put it into thorough repair.
Mr Toots is likewise roaming up and down, outside the casket that contains his jewel; and in a deplorable condition of mind, and not unsuspected by the police, gazes at a window where he sees a light, and which he has no doubt is Florence's. But it is not, for that is Mrs Skewton's room; and while Florence, sleeping in another chamber, dreams lovingly, in the midst of the old scenes, and their old associations live again, the figure which in grim reality is substituted for the patient boy's on the same theatre, once more to connect it - but how differently! - with decay and death, is stretched there, wakeful and complaining. Ugly and haggard it lies upon its bed of unrest; and by it, in the terror of her unimpassioned loveliness - for it has terror in the sufferer's failing eyes - sits Edith. What do the waves say, in the stillness of the night, to them?
'Edith, what is that stone arm raised to strike me? Don't you see it?'
There is nothing, mother, but your fancy.'
'But my fancy! Everything is my fancy. Look! Is it possible that you don't see it?'
'Indeed, mother, there is nothing. Should I sit unmoved, if there were any such thing there?'
'Unmoved?' looking wildly at her - 'it's gone now - and why are you so unmoved? That is not my fancy, Edith. It turns me cold to see you sitting at my side.'
'I am sorry, mother.'
'Sorry! You seem always sorry. But it is not for me!'
With that, she cries; and tossing her restless head from side to side upon her pillow, runs on about neglect, and the mother she has been, and the mother the good old creature was, whom they met, and the cold return the daughters of such mothers make. In the midst of her incoherence, she stops, looks at her daughter, cries out that her wits are going, and hides her face upon the bed.
Edith, in compassion, bends over her and speaks to her. The sick old woman clutches her round the neck, and says, with a look of horror,
'Edith! we are going home soon; going back. You mean that I shall go home again?'
'Yes, mother, yes.'
'And what he said - what's-his-name, I never could remember names - Major - that dreadful word, when we came away - it's not true? Edith!' with a shriek and a stare, 'it's not that that is the matter with me.'
Night after night, the lights burn in the window, and the figure lies upon the bed, and Edith sits beside it, and the restless waves are calling to them both the whole night long. Night after night, the waves are hoarse with repetition of their mystery; the dust lies piled upon the shore; the sea-birds soar and hover; the winds and clouds are on their trackless flight; the white arms beckon, in the moonlight, to the invisible country far away.
And still the sick old woman looks into the corner, where the stone arm - part of a figure of some tomb, she says - is raised to strike her. At last it falls; and then a dumb old woman lies upon the the bed, and she is crooked and shrunk up, and half of her is dead.
Such is the figure, painted and patched for the sun to mock, that is drawn slowly through the crowd from day to day; looking, as it goes, for the good old creature who was such a mother, and making mouths as it peers among the crowd in vain. Such is the figure that is often wheeled down to the margin of the sea, and stationed there; but on which no wind can blow freshness, and for which the murmur of the ocean has no soothing word. She lies and listens to it by the hour; but its speech is dark and gloomy to her, and a dread is on her face, and when her eyes wander over the expanse, they see but a broad stretch of desolation between earth and heaven.
Florence she seldom sees, and when she does, is angry with and mows at. Edith is beside her always, and keeps Florence away; and Florence, in her bed at night, trembles at the thought of death in such a shape, and often wakes and listens, thinking it has come. No one attends on her but Edith. It is better that few eyes should see her; and her daughter watches alone by the bedside.
A shadow even on that shadowed face, a sharpening even of the sharpened features, and a thickening of the veil before the eyes into a pall that shuts out the dim world, is come. Her wandering hands upon the coverlet join feebly palm to palm, and move towards her daughter; and a voice not like hers, not like any voice that speaks our mortal language - says, 'For I nursed you!'
Edith, without a tear, kneels down to bring her voice closer to the sinking head, and answers:
'Mother, can you hear me?'
Staring wide, she tries to nod in answer.
'Can you recollect the night before I married?'
The head is motionless, but it expresses somehow that she does.
'I told you then that I forgave your part in it, and prayed God to forgive my own. I told you that time past was at an end between us. I say so now, again. Kiss me, mother.'
Edith touches the white lips, and for a moment all is still. A moment afterwards, her mother, with her girlish laugh, and the skeleton of the Cleopatra manner, rises in her bed.
Draw the rose-coloured curtains. There is something else upon its flight besides the wind and clouds. Draw the rose-coloured curtains close!
Intelligence of the event is sent to Mr Dombey in town, who waits upon Cousin Feenix (not yet able to make up his mind for Baden-Baden), who has just received it too. A good-natured creature like Cousin Feenix is the very man for a marriage or a funeral, and his position in the family renders it right that he should be consulted.
'Dombey,' said Cousin Feenix, 'upon my soul, I am very much shocked to see you on such a melancholy occasion. My poor aunt! She was a devilish lively woman.'
Mr Dombey replies, 'Very much so.'
'And made up,' says Cousin Feenix, 'really young, you know, considering. I am sure, on the day of your marriage, I thought she was good for another twenty years. In point of fact, I said so to a man at Brooks's - little Billy Joper - you know him, no doubt - man with a glass in his eye?'
Mr Dombey bows a negative. 'In reference to the obsequies,' he hints, 'whether there is any suggestion - '
'Well, upon my life,' says Cousin Feenix, stroking his chin, which he has just enough of hand below his wristbands to do; 'I really don't know. There's a Mausoleum down at my place, in the park, but I'm afraid it's in bad repair, and, in point of fact, in a devil of a state. But for being a little out at elbows, I should have had it put to rights; but I believe the people come and make pic-nic parties there inside the iron railings.'
Mr Dombey is clear that this won't do.
'There's an uncommon good church in the village,' says Cousin Feenix, thoughtfully; 'pure specimen of the Anglo-Norman style, and admirably well sketched too by Lady Jane Finchbury - woman with tight stays - but they've spoilt it with whitewash, I understand, and it's a long journey.
'Perhaps Brighton itself,' Mr Dombey suggests.
'Upon my honour, Dombey, I don't think we could do better,' says Cousin Feenix. 'It's on the spot, you see, and a very cheerful place.'
'And when,' hints Mr Dombey, 'would it be convenient?'
'I shall make a point,' says Cousin Feenix, 'of pledging myself for any day you think best. I shall have great pleasure (melancholy pleasure, of course) in following my poor aunt to the confines of the - in point of fact, to the grave,' says Cousin Feenix, failing in the other turn of speech.
'Would Monday do for leaving town?' says Mr Dombey.
'Monday would suit me to perfection,' replies Cousin Feenix. Therefore Mr Dombey arranges to take Cousin Feenix down on that day, and presently takes his leave, attended to the stairs by Cousin Feenix, who says, at parting, 'I'm really excessively sorry, Dombey, that you should have so much trouble about it;' to which Mr Dombey answers, 'Not at all.'
At the appointed time, Cousin Feenix and Mr Dombey meet, and go down to Brighton, and representing, in their two selves, all the other mourners for the deceased lady's loss, attend her remains to their place of rest. Cousin Feenix, sitting in the mourning-coach, recognises innumerable acquaintances on the road, but takes no other notice of them, in decorum, than checking them off aloud, as they go by, for Mr Dombey's information, as 'Tom Johnson. Man with cork leg, from White's. What, are you here, Tommy? Foley on a blood mare. The Smalder girls' - and so forth. At the ceremony Cousin Feenix is depressed, observing, that these are the occasions to make a man think, in point of fact, that he is getting shaky; and his eyes are really moistened, when it is over. But he soon recovers; and so do the rest of Mrs Skewton's relatives and friends, of whom the Major continually tells the club that she never did wrap up enough; while the young lady with the back, who has so much trouble with her eyelids, says, with a little scream, that she must have been enormously old, and that she died of all kinds of horrors, and you mustn't mention it.
So Edith's mother lies unmentioned of her dear friends, who are deaf to the waves that are hoarse with repetition of their mystery, and blind to the dust that is piled upon the shore, and to the white arms that are beckoning, in the moonlight, to the invisible country far away. But all goes on, as it was wont, upon the margin of the unknown sea; and Edith standing there alone, and listening to its waves, has dank weed cast up at her feet, to strew her path in life withal.
一切都像往常一样进行着。海浪嘶哑地重复着它那神秘的语言；沙子堆积在岸上；海鸟上上下下地飞翔；风和云沿着它们不留踪迹的线路行进；白色的胳膊在月光下向远方看不见的国家打着招呼①。
--------
①请参见第十二章中保罗与图茨的谈话。保罗说，他看见月光下小船的船帆像银色的胳膊，似乎招呼他到它那里去。
弗洛伦斯怀着亲切的、令人伤感的喜悦，又来到了这块她过去曾经那么悲哀地、又那么幸福地走过的老地方，并在这安静的地方想念着他；他和她曾经好多次、好多次在这里一起交谈，海浪则在他的卧床旁涌上来。现在，当她沉思地坐在这里的时候，她在大海的低沉的哗哗声中又听到了他的小故事正在被重新叙述着，他的每一句话正在被重复地讲着；她觉得，从那时以来，在那座孤独的房屋和后来变成富丽堂皇的公馆中，她所有的生活、希望和悲哀，都反映在这首奇妙的歌曲中。
性格温和的图茨先生在稍远一些的地方漫步走着，同时愁闷地向他所热爱的人儿望着；他跟随弗洛伦斯来到这里，但却由于慎重的考虑，不能在这样的时候去打扰她。他听到海浪升高、降落，永恒地唱着赞颂弗洛伦斯的小曲，但在它们有时暂停的时候，他也听到它们唱着小保罗的安魂曲。是的，可怜的图茨先生，他也模糊地听明白海浪正在叙述那段他认为他比较聪明、头脑不糊涂的时光；当他担心他现在已变得迟钝、愚笨，除了供人取笑外，毫无其他用处的时候，他眼中涌出了泪水；海浪安慰地提醒他：由于那位全国家禽中英勇善斗的首领不在这里，而正在与拉基•博伊进行伟大的竞赛而从事训练（由图茨负担费用），因此图茨先生现在已摆脱了对斗鸡所负的责任；这一点使图茨先生感到高兴，可是涌出的泪水却使他的高兴减弱了。
然而当海浪向他低声诉说着充满柔情的思想的时候，图茨先生又把勇气鼓起来了；他慢慢地、慢慢地向弗洛伦斯身边走过去，在途中犹豫不决地停下很多次。当他走到她的身旁时，图茨先生结结巴巴，脸孔涨得通红，假装出惊异的样子，说，他这一辈子从来没有像现在这样感到惊奇过；其实，从伦敦开始，他就每一英寸都在紧紧跟随着她乘坐的马车；甚至车轮扬起的灰尘使他喘不过气来，他还感到十分高兴。
“您把戴奥吉尼斯也带来了，董贝小姐！”图茨先生说道；当那小手愉快地、坦诚地向他伸过来、接触到他时，他感到全身一阵阵震颤。
毫无疑问，戴奥吉尼斯是在这里；毫无疑问，图茨先生有理由注意到他，因为他向着图茨先生的腿直冲过来，像蒙塔吉斯的狗①一样，在向他奋不顾身地扑过去的时候，在地上翻滚着，但是他被他的女主人制止了。
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①蒙塔吉斯的狗（averydogofMontargis）：根据法国传说，十四世纪时，一位名叫奥伯里•德•蒙塔吉斯的骑士和他的狗在森林中漫游时，被理查德•德•马克打死。除了这条狗外，其他任何人也没有见到过这位凶手。从那时起，这条狗一见到这个凶手，就愤怒地吠叫；由于顽强追逐的结果，罪犯终于被破获。根据国王的命令，狗与马克进行决斗，结果凶手死去。
“伏下，戴，伏下！难道你忘记了，最初是谁使我们成为朋友的，戴？真丢脸！”
啊，戴真幸福啊，他可以把他的腮帮子亲热地贴着她的手，然后跑开，又跑回来，然后围绕着她跑，一边吠叫着，并向任何路过的人冲过去，显示他的忠诚。图茨先生也真想能头向前地向任何路过的人冲过去。一位军人走过去了，图茨先生真想拼命地向他追扑过去。
“戴奥吉尼斯现在呼吸到他家乡的空气了，是不是，董贝小姐？”图茨先生说道。
弗洛伦斯微笑着，表示同意。
“董贝小姐，”图茨先生说道，“请原谅，如果您愿意散步到布林伯学校去的话，那么我——我现在到那里去。”
弗洛伦斯没有说话，挽着图茨先生的手，两人一起上了路，戴奥吉尼斯在前面跑着。图茨先生两只腿颤抖着；虽然他穿得漂漂亮亮的，可是他仍觉得服装不合适，并在伯吉斯公司精心缝制的产品中看到了皱痕；他很后悔不曾穿上他那双最亮的靴子。
布林伯博士的房屋外面仍像过去一样保持着学校的、研究学问的气派，上面还是那个窗子：她过去经常向那里寻找那张苍白的脸孔，那张苍白的脸孔看到她的时候就在那里露出喜色；当她走过的时候，那只消瘦的小手就在那里向他挥送着飞吻。门还是由那位弱视的年轻人开的；他看到图茨先生的时候，咧着嘴傻乎乎地笑着，这是他智力低下的表现。他们被领到博士的书房中；盲诗人荷马和米涅瓦像过去一样，在前厅大钟沉着冷静的滴嗒声中，在那里接见了他们；地球仪仍竖立在先前的位置上，仿佛整个世界也是静止的；世界上没有任何东西遵从普遍规律的作用而消亡；本来按照这一规律，当地球转动的时候，一切东西都是要化为尘土的。
布林伯博士跨着有学问的两腿，在书房里；布林伯夫人戴着天蓝色的帽子，也在这里；还有科妮莉亚也在这里，她梳着沙色的短小的卷发，戴着明亮的眼镜，仍像主管墓地的教堂司事一样，在语言的坟墓中工作着。那张他曾经让这个学校的“新孩子”可怜而陌生地坐着的桌子也仍旧摆在这里；那些原先的孩子们，遵循与过去同样的方针，在与过去同样的房间里，过着与过去同样的生活，他们轻微的正从远处传进书房里来。
“图茨，”布林伯博士说，“我很高兴看到您，图茨。”
图茨先生吃吃地笑了一下，作为回答。
“而且有这样好的伴侣，图茨：”布林伯博士说道。
图茨先生脸孔涨得通红，解释说，他是在无意间遇见了董贝小姐；董贝小姐像他本人一样，也想来看看老地方，所以他们就一起来了。
“当然，您一定会高兴在我们这些年轻的朋友中间走走的，董贝小姐，”布林伯博士说道，“他们都是您过去的同学，图茨。亲爱的，”布林伯博士转向科妮莉亚说道，“我想，从图茨先生离开我们以后，在我们这个小小的门廊里，我们没有再招收新的学生了吧？”
“只招收了比瑟斯通一个人。”科妮莉亚回答道。
“对了，一点不错，”博士说道，“对图茨先生来说，比瑟斯通是个新人。”
对弗洛伦斯来说，比瑟斯通几乎也是个新人，因为比瑟斯通不再是皮普钦太太寄宿学校里的比瑟斯通少爷了；他现在在教室里炫示着他的硬领和领饰，还戴了一块手表。但是比瑟斯通是在某个不吉祥的孟加拉星辰照耀下出生的，全身沾满了墨迹；他的词典由于经常翻查，浮肿得不想合上，而且困倦地打着呵欠，仿佛确实容忍不了这样经常的烦扰了。它的主人比瑟斯通在布林伯博士的高压下也同样打着呵欠；不过在比瑟斯通的呵欠中有着怨恨和怒气；人们听他说过，他希望能在印度把“老布林伯”逮住；老布林伯将很快就会发现自己被比瑟斯通的几个小工拖到这个国家的边远地区，交给谋杀教团①的团员们；他可以这样告诉他。
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①谋杀教团：印度旧时，因崇拜破坏女神，以杀人抢劫为业的宗教组织。
布里格斯依旧在知识磨坊中推着磨；托泽也是这样；约翰逊也是这样；所有其他的人也都是这样；年纪大一些的学生们所从事的，主要是通过勤奋的努力，把他们在年纪较小的时候所学到的一切东西给忘记掉。所有的人都跟过去一样彬彬有礼，脸色跟过去一样苍白；在他们中间，文学士菲德先生，手瘦得皮包骨头，头上密生着硬发，依旧像过去一样用功，这时候他刚刚正在教赫罗多德①的著作，由他这个人为手摇风琴演奏的其他曲谱放在他后面的一个搁架上。
解放了的图茨前来访问，这件事甚至在那些态度沉着的年轻先生们中间也引起了巨大的哄动。他们敬仰地看着他，就像他是渡过卢比孔河，发誓永不回来的一位英雄一样②。大家在背地里嘁嘁喳喳地议论着他的服装剪裁的式样和珠宝饰物的时新款式；可是爱发脾气的比瑟斯通（他不是图茨先生时期的人）却在较小的孩子面前装出看不起图茨先生的样子，说，他见识得更多，他真愿意在孟加拉见到图茨先生；他母亲在孟加拉有一块纯绿宝石，是属于他的，那是从印度王侯宝座脚底中取出来的；哎呀，那才了不起呢！看到了弗洛伦斯，这些年轻人在感情上也引起了极大的波动，每一位年轻的先生都立刻爱上了她，又是只有上面提到的爱发脾气的比瑟斯通一人例外；他出于反抗心，拒绝这样做。大家对图茨先生产生了恶意的妒嫉。布里格斯认为，图茨先生毕竟年纪还不算很老；可是这个贬损性的暗讽立即被图茨先生挡架住，使它不起作用；他大声对文学士菲德先生说，“您好，菲德！”，并邀请他今天在贝德福德旅馆去跟他一起吃晚饭；由于他成功地采取了这巧妙的一招，如果他愿意的话，那么他很可以自称为久经世事磨练的老手，没有人会提出异议的。
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①赫罗多德（Herodutus）（公元前484？——425年）：公元前五世纪希腊历史学家，有历史之父之称。
②卢比孔（Rubicon）河，是意大利中部的一条河流。古罗马将军凯撒（JuliusCae－sar，公元前100——40年）如要渡过此河，必和掌握罗马政府大权的庞培（PompeytheGreat，公元前106—48年，罗马将军）一战，因此渡过卢比孔河是指采取断然手段，下了重大决心的行动。凯撒就是在说着“骰子已经掷下了”之后，前去渡过这条河的。
好多的握手，好多的鞠躬，每位年轻的先生都极想消除弗洛伦斯小姐对图茨先生的宠爱；接着，图茨先生对他旧日的课桌吃吃地笑了一声，作为问候；然后弗洛伦斯与他，并和布林伯夫人与科妮莉亚一起离开了；当布林伯博士最后走出来，并把门关上的时候，他们听到他说道，“各位先生，现在我们将重新开始我们的学习。”因为博士听到大海所说的，或者他这一辈子听到它所说的，就是这一句话，没有别的话了。
然后，弗洛伦斯悄悄地走开，跟布林伯夫人和科妮莉亚一起上楼到过去那间寝室里；图茨先生感到不需要他或其他人到那里去，就站在书房门口跟博士谈话，或者更确切地说，听博士对他说话；他感到奇怪，他过去怎么曾把这个书房看成是一座伟大的神殿，并把博士看成是一位令人敬畏的人；他那圆圆的、向里弯曲的腿就像是教堂里的钢琴一般。弗洛伦斯不久从楼上下来，告别了；图茨先生告别了；戴奥吉尼斯这段时间一直在无情地想咬那位弱视的年轻人，这时冲向门口，高兴地、挑衅地吠叫着，并沿着断崖飞跑下去；而这时候梅莉亚和博士的另一位女仆则从楼上的一个窗口往外望，对着“那里那位图茨”大笑着，同时谈到董贝小姐，说，“不过说真的，她不是很像她弟弟吗，只是更漂亮一些！”
当弗洛伦斯下楼来的时候，图茨先生看到她脸上挂着眼泪，感到非常焦虑不安，起初他担心他建议进行这次访问是不是错了。可是他不久就放下心，因为当他们沿着海滨向前走去的时候，她说她很高兴又到这里来，而且很高兴地谈着这次访问。当他们在海浪的和她那可爱的的伴随下，走近董贝先生的房屋，图茨先生必须离开她的时候，他已经完全成了她的奴隶，一星半点自由的意志也没剩下了；当她告别时向他伸出手来时，他怎么也放不开它。
“董贝小姐，请原谅，”图茨先生悲伤而慌乱地说道，“不过如果您肯允许我——”
弗洛伦斯的微笑的、天真无邪的神色使他立刻完全停住，讲不下去了。
“如果您肯允许我——如果您不认为这是放肆的话，董贝小姐，如果我能——在没有得到任何鼓励下，如果我能希望，您知道，”图茨先生说道。
弗洛伦斯诧异地看着他。
“董贝小姐，”图茨先生觉得他现在已经欲罢不能，只有鼓着勇气说下去了，“说实话，我爱慕您到了这样的地步，我真不知道没有您我自己一个人该怎么办。我是个最可怜最不幸的人。如果我们现在不是站在广场的角落里的话，那么我就一定跪下去，哀求您，恳请您，在没有得到您的任何鼓励下，仅仅给我一个希望：我可以——可以认为这是可能的，就是您——”
“啊，请您别这样！”弗洛伦斯感到相当惊慌和苦恼，喊道，“啊，请您别这样，图茨先生！请别说了。什么也别说了。
就把这作为您对我的好意和恩惠吧，请别说了。”
图茨先生张着嘴巴，羞愧得不得了。
“您一直来对我很好，”弗洛伦斯说道，“我十分感谢您，我有充分的理由喜欢您做我的一个好朋友，我的确是很喜欢您；”这时那张天真的脸向他浮现出世界上最愉快、最真诚的微笑，“我相信，您只不过是想对我说一声再见罢了。”
“当然，董贝小姐，”图茨先生说道，“我——我——这正是我想要说的。这无关紧要。”
“再见！”弗洛伦斯喊道。
“再见，董贝小姐！”图茨先生结结巴巴地说道，“我希望您别去想这件事。它是——它是无关紧要的，谢谢您。它是世界上最最无关紧要的事情。”
可怜的图茨先生怀着绝望的心情回到旅馆里，把自己锁在卧室中，猛倒在床上，长久地躺在那里，仿佛这毕竟不是一件无关紧要，而是最最重要的事情。可是文学士菲德先生来吃晚饭了，这对图茨先生倒是一件好事，要不然，真不知道他什么时候才会起床呢。图茨先生不得不起来会见他，并热情地款待他。
热情好客这个社会美德（不用提酒和丰盛的菜肴了）打开了图茨先生的心境，给了他温暖，使他开始交谈起来。他没有把广场角落里发生的事情告诉文学士菲德先生，但是当菲德先生问他“这事什么时候完成”时，图茨先生回答道，“有些话题——”，这就立即使菲德先生不能再追问下去。图茨先生还说，他不知道布林伯有什么权利注意到他是在董贝小姐陪伴下同去的；如果他认为布林伯这样说是有意冒失无礼的话，那么他就会老实不客气地指责他，不管他是不是博士；不过他想那只不过是布林伯不明真情罢了；菲德先生说，他对这点毫不怀疑。
不过，菲德先生是一位知心朋友，可以无所不谈，这个话题也不除外。图茨先生只要求神秘地、带着感情地谈。喝了几杯酒之后，他建议为董贝小姐的健康干杯，说道，“菲德，您根本想不到我是怀着一种什么感情建议为她祝酒的。”菲德先生回答道，“不，不，我想得到，我亲爱的图茨，这种感情大大地提高了您的荣誉呵，我的老同学。”这时候，菲德先生被友谊所激动，跟图茨先生握着手，说，如果图茨什么时候需要一个兄弟的话，那么他知道到什么地方去找他的。菲德先生还说，如果他可以劝告的话，那么他将建议图茨先生学习弹奏吉他，至少学习吹笛子，因为当您向女人献殷勤的时候，她们是喜爱音乐的，他本人就领会过音乐有这样的优点。
谈到这点，文学士菲德先生承认，他已看中了科妮莉亚•布林伯。他告诉图茨先生，他并不反对眼镜，如果博士肯慷慨解囊，并辞去他的职务的话，那么他们的生活就有保障了；在他看来，一个人由于工作挣得了一笔可观的财产之后，他就应当辞去他的职务；而科妮莉亚是一位任何人都会引以自豪的助手。图茨先生的回答是对董贝小姐满口不绝地称赞，还暗示说，他有时真想对准自己的脑袋开熗。菲德先生有力地强调说，这将是轻率鲁莽的尝试，为了使图茨先生安于生活，他还让他看看戴着眼镜和有其他特征的科妮莉亚的肖像。
这两位性情文静的人就这样度过了这个晚上；当夜接着来临的时候，图茨先生陪送菲德先生回家，并在布林伯博士的门口跟他分别。可是菲德先生只是走上台阶；当图茨先生离开以后，他又走下来，一个人在海滨散步，并默想着他的前程。菲德先生在溜达的时候，清楚地听到海浪在告诉他，布林伯博士将辞去他的工作；当他望着那房屋的外表，想着博士将首先重新油漆这房屋，并彻底修理它的时候，他感到了一种温柔的、浪漫的乐趣。
图茨先生也在收藏着他的宝石的盒子外面踱来踱去；在悲惨的心情下，他注视着一个发出亮光的窗子——警察对这并不是没有引起怀疑的——，他毫无疑问，那是弗洛伦斯的窗子。但实际上却并不是，因为那是斯丘顿夫人的房间；当弗洛伦斯睡在另一个房间里，在旧日的环境中，做着甜密的梦，旧日的一些联想又在心头复活的时候，一位老女人在冷酷的现实中，在这同一个剧场上，代替那个有病的孩子，又一次（然而是多么不同地！）恢复了与疾病和死亡的联系；她在这里伸开四肢，醒着，抱怨着。她面貌丑陋，形容枯槁，躺在她的得不到安息的床上；在她身旁，坐着伊迪丝，她那毫无热情的美貌令人恐怖——因为在病人的眼睛中，它具有令人恐怖的东西。在这寂静无声的夜间，海浪在对她们说些什么话呢？
“伊迪丝，这只举起来要打我的胳膊是谁的？你看见了吗？”
“那里什么也没有，妈妈，那只不过是你的幻觉罢了。”
“只不过是我的幻觉罢了！什么都是我的幻觉。看！难道你竟看不见吗？”
“真的，妈妈，那里什么也没有。如果那里当真有这样的东西的话，那么我还能这么木然不动地坐着吗？”
“木然不动？”她惊骇地看着她，“现在它消失了——不过你为什么能这么木然不动呢？那不是我的幻觉，伊迪丝。我看到你坐在我身旁，身上就发冷。”
“我感到遗憾，妈妈。”
“遗憾！你似乎老是在感到遗憾。可是并不是为了我！”
她一边说着一边就哭了起来，并把得不到休息的头在枕头上翻过来转过去，同时唠唠叨叨地说没有人理睬她，又说她曾经是个多么好的母亲；她们遇见的那位好老婆子也是一位多么好的母亲；这些母亲的女儿们又是怎样冷酷地报答她们。在这样语无伦次地说着的时候，她突然中途停下来，看着她的女儿，高声喊道，她的神志糊涂了，并把脸埋藏在床上。
伊迪丝怜悯地弯下身子，对她说话。有病的老太婆抓住她的脖子，露出恐怖的神情，说道：
“伊迪丝！我们很快就要回家了；很快就要回去了。你相信我还会回家吗？”
“会的，妈妈，会的。”
“他说了些什么话——他叫什么名字，我总是记不住名字——少校——当我们动身到这里来的时候，他说了那个可怕的字眼——难道不是吗，伊迪丝！”她尖声喊叫了一声，并瞪了一下眼睛，“难道那与我有什么关系吗？”
一夜又一夜，灯光在窗子里亮着；老太婆躺在床上，伊迪丝坐在她身旁；不平静的海浪整夜在向她们两人呼喊着。一夜又一夜，海浪嘶哑地重复着它那神秘的语言，沙子堆积在岸上；海鸟上上下下地飞翔；风和云沿着它们不留踪迹的线路行进；白色的胳膊在月光下向远方看不见的国家打着招呼。
有病的老太婆仍旧望着角落里；在那个角落里有一只石胳膊——她说，这是什么坟墓上的一个雕像的胳膊——正举起来要打她。最后这个石胳膊放下了，于是默默无声的老太婆躺在床上，身子蜷缩着，皮肤发皱，半个人已经死去了。
就是这位老太婆，涂脂抹粉，贴着美人斑，听凭太阳去嘲笑，一天又一天被慢慢地通过人群拉出去；这时她用眼睛寻找着那位曾经是多么好的母亲的好老婆子；当她在人群中找不到她的时候，她就撇着嘴。就是这位老太婆经常坐在车子里被一直送到海边，在那里停下来；可是不论什么风吹她，也不能使她振作起精神来；海洋发出的哗哗声中，没有一句安慰她的话。她躺着，听着它，但是它的语言对她是凶险的、不祥的，在她的脸上呈现出恐惧；当她的眼睛往浩瀚的汪洋望过去的时候，她所看到的只不过是天地之间茫茫一片荒凉而已。
她很少看到弗洛伦斯；当她看到的时候，她就对她生气，并皱着眉头。伊迪丝经常在她身旁，不让弗洛伦斯跟她们在一起；而弗洛伦斯夜间在床上一想到这样的死亡就浑身颤抖；她还时常醒来，听着，心想它已来临了。除了伊迪丝外；没有别的人照料老太婆。很少人看到她，这倒是好的。只有她的女儿一个人在床边看守着她。
在已经笼罩着阴影的脸上又加上一层阴影，在已经瘦削的脸形上又多了一重瘦削，她眼前的帷幕已转变成一块遮挡暗淡世界的厚厚的棺衣。在被单上摸来摸去的两只手软弱无力地合到一块，并向女儿那里移动；一个不像她的、也不像任何凡人所说的说道，“因为是我把你养大的！”
伊迪丝没有流泪，跪下去，使她的更挨近那个深埋到枕头里的头，回答道：
“妈妈，你能听到我说话吗？”
她把眼睛睁得大大的，想点头回答。
“你能记得我结婚前的那一夜吗？”
那个头一动不动，但从她脸上的表情中可以看出，她记得。
“那时候我对你说，我原谅你参与我的婚事，并祈求上帝宽恕我自己的参与。那时候我对你说，我们之间过去的事情已告一结束。我现在又重新这样说。吻我吧，妈妈。”
伊迪丝接触到那苍白的嘴唇，在片刻间一切都寂静无声。片刻之后，她的母亲带着她那少女般的笑声和克利奥佩特拉的骨头架子，在床上稍稍欠起身来。
把玫瑰色的帐子拉合上吧。除了风和云之外，还有别的什么东西在飞逝。把玫瑰色的帐子紧紧地拉合上吧！
这件事的消息已派人送到城里董贝先生那里；董贝先生拜访了菲尼克斯表哥（他还下不了决心去巴登—巴登）；菲尼克斯表哥也刚接到消息。像菲尼克斯表哥这样性格温厚的人是参加婚礼或葬礼的最合适的人物；考虑到他在家中的地位，应当跟他商量商量，这是很恰当的。
“董贝，”菲尼克斯表哥说道，“说实话，在这样悲伤的时刻看到您，我非常激动。我可怜的妈妈！她过去是一位非常活泼的妇女。”
董贝先生回答道，“的确是这样。”
“而且，您知道，她外貌修整得实在年轻；”菲尼克斯表哥说道，“说真的，在您结婚的那一天，我曾以为她还能再活二十岁呢。事实上，我当时就跟布鲁克斯商行的一个人这样说过——他叫小比利•乔珀，有一只眼睛戴单眼镜的，毫无疑问，您认识他吧？”
董贝先生给了否定的回答。“关于葬礼，您是不是有什么建议——”
“啊，我的天！”菲尼克斯表哥说道，一边敲敲下巴，他从袖口中露出的手刚好能这样做，“我实在不知道！在我的土地上的公园里有一座陵庙，不过我担心，它需要好好修理一下，事实上，它现在的情况是很糟糕的。要不是手头不宽裕的话，我应当把它修整得好好的；不过我相信人们还常到那里去，在铁栏杆里举行野餐。”
董贝先生明白，那里不适宜。
“在那个村子里有一个少见的好教堂，”菲尼克斯表哥沉思地说道，“这是英格兰——诺尔曼风格的纯正的样本，简•芬奇伯里夫人——她是穿紧身褡的——还给它描绘过一幅精采的图画，不过据我了解，他们粉刷时把教堂糟蹋了，而且路途遥远。”
“也许就在布赖顿举行，怎么样？”董贝先生建议道。
“以我的荣誉发誓，董贝，我认为没有比这更好的地方了，”菲尼克斯表哥说道。“就在当地，而且那是个使人赏心悦目的地方。”
“定在什么日子合适呢？”董贝先生探问道。
“任何日子，只要是您认为最合适的，我都保证同意。”菲尼克斯表哥说道，“跟随我的姑妈到达那个——边境，事实上，也就是到达坟墓，我将感到极大的愉快（当然，是忧郁的愉快），”菲尼克斯表哥说道，其他的话他说不出来了。
“您能在星期一离开城里吗？”董贝先生问道。
“星期一对我完全合适，”菲尼克斯表哥回答道。因此董贝先生就约定在那天来把他送去，然后就立刻告辞了；菲尼克斯表哥把他送到楼梯口，分别时说道，“我实在非常抱歉，董贝，这件事给您添了这么多麻烦”；董贝先生回答道，“一点也不！”
在约定的那一天，菲尼克斯表哥和董贝先生会了面，然后前去布赖顿；他们两人代表对亡故的夫人表示哀悼的所有其他的人们，护送她的遗体到安息的地点。菲尼克斯表哥坐在灵柩车中，沿途认出无数熟人，可是他遵守礼节，没有和他们谈话，仅仅当从他们身旁经过的时候，他大声喊出他们的名字，让董贝先生知道；如：“汤姆•约翰逊。他有一条软木做的腿，是怀特公司给做的。怎么，汤米，您在这里呀？弗利，他骑一匹纯种的母马。这是斯莫德尔的姑娘们”，等等。在举行葬礼时，菲尼克斯表哥情绪低落；他说，在这种场合，一个人不由得会想到，他的身体事实上已逐渐衰弱了；当仪式结束时，他的眼睛确实是泪汪汪的。但是他很快就恢复了精神；斯丘顿夫人的其他亲友们也跟他一样；其中少校在俱乐部里反复地讲，她从来不把衣服穿严实；那位光裸着后背、打扮得十分年轻、费很大劲才能撑开眼皮的夫人则轻轻地头叫了一声，说，她一定非常衰老了；她是得了各种最可怕的病死去的；您应该别提起它了。
就这样，伊迪丝的母亲躺在那里，不再被她亲爱的朋友们提起，他们听不见海浪嘶哑地重复着它那神秘的语言，看不见沙子堆积在岸上，看不见白色的胳膊在月光下向远方看不见的国家打着招呼。可是在这未知的海洋的边缘，一切都像往常一样进行着；伊迪丝独自站在那里，听着海浪的；潮湿的海藻漂打到她的脚边，而且也撒布在她的生活道路上。
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爱就像蓝天白云，晴空万里，突然暴风雨！
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Epilogue  Nineteen Years Later
Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The morning of the first of September was crisp as an apple, and as the little family bobbed across the rumbling road toward the great sooty station, the fumes of car exhausts and the breath of pedestrians sparkled like cobwebs in the cold air. Two large cages tattled on top of the laden trolleys the parents were pushing; the owls inside them hooted indignantly, and the redheaded girl trailed fearfully behind here brothers, clutching her father’s arm.
“It won’t be long, and you’ll be going too,” Harry told her.
“Two years,” sniffed Lily. “I want to go now!”
The commuters stared curiously at the owls as the family wove its way toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten, Albus’s voice drifted back to Harry over the surrounding clamor; his sons had resumed the argument they had started in the car.
“I won’t! I won’t be a Slytherin!”
“James, give it a rest!” said Ginny.
“I only said he might be,” said James, grinning at his younger brother. “There’s nothing wrong with that. He might be in Slytherin”
But James caught his mother’s eye and fell silent. The five Potters approached the barrier. With a slightly cocky look over his shoulder at his younger brother, James took the trolley from his mother and broke into a run. A moment later, he had vanished.
“You’ll write to me, won’t you?” Albus asked his parents immediately, capitalizing on the momentary absence of his brother.
“Every day, if you want us to,” said Ginny.
“Not every day,” said Albus quickly, “James says most people only get letters from home about once a month.”
“We wrote to James three times a week last year,” said Ginny.
“And you don’t want to believe everything he tells you about Hogwarts,” Harry put in. “He likes a laugh, your brother.”
Side by side, they pushed the second trolley forward, gathering speed. As they reached the barrier, Albus winced, but no collision came. Instead, the family emerged onto platform nine and three-quarters, which was obscured by thick white steam that was pouring from the scarlet Hogwarts Express. Indistinct figures were swarming through the mist, into which James had already disappeared.
“Where are they?” asked Albus anxiously, peering at the hazy forms they passed as they made their way down the platform.
“We’ll find them,” said Ginny reassuringly.
But the vapor was dense, and it was difficult to make out anybody’s faces. Detached from their owners, voices sounded unnaturally loud, Harry thought he head Percy discoursing loudly on broomstick regulations, and was quite glad of the excuse not to stop and say hello….
“I think that’s them, Al,” said Ginny suddenly.
A group of four people emerged from the mist, standing alongside the very last carriage. Their faces only came into focus when Harry, Ginny, Lily, and Albus had drawn right up to them.
“Hi,” said Albus, sounding immensely relieved.
Rose, who was already wearing her brand-new Hogwarts robes, beamed at him.
“Parked all right, then?” Ron asked Harry. “I did. Hermione didn’t believe I could pass a Muggle driving test, did you? She thought I’d have to Confound the examiner.”
“No, I didn’t,” said Hermione, “I had complete faith in you.”
“As a matter of fact, I did Confund him,” Ron whispered to Harry, as together they lifted Albus’s trunk and owl onto the train. “I only forgot to look in the wing mirror, and let’s face it, I can use a Supersensory Charm for that.”
Back on the platform, they found Lily and Hugo, Rose’s younger brother, having an animated discussion about which House they would be sorted into when they finally went to Hogwarts.
“If you’re not in Gryffindor, we’ll disinherit you,” said Ron, “but no pressure.”
“Ron!”
Lily and Hugo laughed, but Albus and Rose looked solemn.
“He doesn’t mean it,” said Hermione and Ginny, but Ron was no longer paying attention. Catching Harry’s eye, he nodded covertly to a point some fifty yards away. The steam had thinned for a moment, and three people stood in sharp relief against the shifting mist.
“Look who it is.”
Draco Malfoy was standing there with his wife and son, a dark coat buttoned up to his throat. His hair was receding somewhat, which emphasized the pointed chin. The new boy resembled Draco as much as Albus resembled Harry. Draco caught sight of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny staring at him, nodded curtly, and turned away again.
“So that’s little Scorpius,” said Ron under his breath. “Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie. Thank God you inherited your mother’s brains.”
“Ron, for heaven’s sake,” said Hermione, half stern, half amused. “Don’t try to turn them against each other before they’ve even started school!”
“You’re right, sorry,” said Ron, but unable to help himself, he added, “Don’t get too friendly with him, though, Rosie. Granddad Weasley would never forgive you if you married a pureblood.”
“Hey!”
James had reappeared; he had divested himself of his trunk, owl, and trolley, and was evidently bursting with news.
“Teddy’s back there,” he said breathlessly, pointing back over his shoulder into the billowing clouds of steam. “Just seen him! And guess what he’s doing? Snogging Victoire!”
He gazed up at the adults, evidently disappointed by the lack of reaction.
“Our Teddy! Teddy Lupin! Snogging our Victoire! Our cousin! And I asked teddy what he was doing –”
“You interrupted them?” said Ginny. “You are so like Ron –”
“– and he said he’d come to see her off! And then he told me to go away. He’s snogging her!” James added as though worried he had not made himself clear.
“Oh, it would be lovely if they got married!” whispered Lily ecstatically. “Teddy would really be part of the family then!”
“He already comes round for dinner about four times a week,” said Harry “Why don’t we just invite him to live with us and have done with it?”
“Yeah!” said James enthusiastically. “I don’t mind sharing with Al – Teddy could have my room!”
“No,” said Harry firmly, “you and Al will share a room only when I want the house demolished.”
He checked the battered old watch that had once been Fabian Prewett’s.
“It’s nearly eleven, you’d better get on board.”
“Don’t forget to give Neville our love!” Ginny told James as she hugged him.
“Mum! I can’t give a professor love!”
“But you know Neville–”
James rolled his eyes.
“Outside, yeah, but at school he’s Professor Longbottom, isn’t he? I can’t walk into Herbology and give him love….”
Shaking his head at his mother’s foolishness, he vented his feelings by aiming a kick at Albus.
“See you later, Al. Watch out for the thestrals.”
“I thought they were invisible? You said they were invisible!” but James merely laughed, permitted his mother to kiss him, gave his father a fleeting hug, then leapt onto the rapidly filling train. They saw him wave, then sprint away up the corridor to find his friends.
“Thestrals are nothing to worry about,” Harry told Albus. “They’re gentle things, there’s nothing scare about them. Anyway, you won’t be going up to school in the carriages, you’ll be going in the boats.”
Ginny kissed Albus good-bye.
“See you at Christmas.”
“Bye, Al,” said Harry as his son hugged him. “Don’t forget Hagrid’s invited you to tea next Friday. Don’t mess with Peeves. Don’t duel anyone till you’re learned how. And don’t let James wind you up.”
“What if I’m in Slytherin?”
The whisper was for his father alone, and Harry knew that only the moment of departure could have forced Albus to reveal how great and sincere that fear was.
Harry crouched down so that Albus’s face was slightly above his own. Alone of Harry’s three children, Albus had inherited Lily’s eyes.
“Albus Severus,” Harry said quietly, so that nobody but Ginny could hear, and she was tactful enough to pretend to be waving to Rose, who was now on the train, “you were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew.”
“But just say–”
“–then Slytherin House will have gained an excellent student, won’t it? It doesn’t matter to us, Al. But if it matter to you, you’ll be able to choose Gryffindor over Slytherin. The Sorting Hat takes your choice into account.”
“Really?”
“It did for me,” said Harry.
He had never told any of his children that before, and he saw the wonder in Albus’s face when he said it. But how the doors were slamming all along the scarlet train, and the blurred outlines of parents swarming forward for final kisses, last-minute reminders, Albus jumped into the carriage and Ginny closed the door behind him. Students were hanging from the windows nearest them. A great number of faces, both on the train and off, seemed to be turned toward Harry.
“Why are they all staring?” demanded Albus as he and Rose craned around to look at the other students.
“Don’t let it worry you,” said Ron. “It’s me, I’m extremely famous.”
Albus, Rose, Hugo, and Lily laughed. The train began to more, and Harry walked alongside it, watching his son’s thin face, already ablaze with excitement. Harry kept smiling and waving, even though it was like a little bereavement, watching his son glide away from him….
The last trace of steam evaporated in the autumn air. The train rounded a corner. Harry’s hand was still raised in farewell.
“He’ll be alright,” murmured Ginny.
As Harry looked at her, he lowered his hand absentmindedly and touched the lightning scar on his forehead.
“I know he will.”
The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well.
秋天好像来得很突然。九月的第一个早晨如同苹果般清新。在清凉的空气中，汽车的尾气和人们的呼吸就像蜘蛛吐丝一样。一家子人正穿过熙熙攘攘的街道向那烟雾缭绕的车站走去。父母二人推着两辆载满了沉重行李的小车，最顶上有两个大笼子，里面的猫头鹰愤怒的叫着，一个红头发的女孩在她的两个哥哥后面拖拖沓沓地走着，抓着她父亲的胳膊。
　　“要不了多久，你也会去哪儿的。”哈利对她说。
　　“还要两年呢，”莉莉不满地说，“我现在就要去！”
　　路人好奇地盯着猫头鹰，看到这一家子人正在第九和第十站台之间徘徊。阿不思又开始再哈利身后嚷嚷着，他的儿子们仍在继续着从一上车就开始的那个话题。
　　“我不会的！我不会被分到斯莱特林！“
　　“詹姆，行了！”金妮说。
　　“我只不过是说他有可能，”詹姆冲着他的弟弟笑了一下，“那也没啥不好的。他有可能会进斯莱特林。”
　　但詹姆一看到他妈妈的眼睛就立刻闭嘴了。波特一家五个人走到了栏杆旁，詹姆带着点骄傲地看了看他兄弟，然后从妈妈手中接过了手推车，跑了起来。片刻之后，他消失了。
　　“你们会写信给我的，对吗？”阿不思抓紧了哥哥不在的这一点时间，问他的父母。
　　“每天都写，如果你想要的话。”金妮说。
　　“才不要每天，”阿不思快速的说，“詹姆说大部分人大概一个月才收到一封家里的信。”
　　“去年我们每周给他写三次信呢。”金妮说。
　　“你不能相信他说的关于霍格沃茨的每件事，”哈利赶紧插话，“你哥哥他喜欢开玩笑。”
　　他们并排推着手推车向前冲去，速度越来越快。当他们马上撞那堵墙的时候，阿不思有点想要退缩，但是他什么都没撞到，相反的，九又四分之三站台出现在他们一家人的面前，薄雾中的熙熙攘攘的人群有点模糊不清，而詹姆早就消失其中。
　　“他们在哪？”阿不思焦虑地说，沿着月台摸索着路，凝视着那些模糊不清的人影。
　　“我们会找到他们的。”金妮安慰道。
　　哈利似乎听见了珀西用不大自然的声音大声讲述扫帚使用的规则，但是雾太大了，很难看清别人的脸。这真是个不用停下来打招呼的好借口。
　　“我想他们在那里，阿尔，”金妮突然说。
　　四个人从薄雾中出现，站在最后一节车厢旁边。当哈利、金妮、莉莉和阿不思走到跟前才真的看清了他们的脸。
　　“嘿！”阿不思说，听起来他这下总算放心了。
　　露丝已经穿上了崭新的霍格沃茨校袍，笑逐颜开的看着他。
　　“车停好了？“罗恩问哈利，“我做到了，赫敏怎么也不相信我能通过麻瓜的驾驶考试，对吧？她认为我对考试官施了混淆咒。”
　　“不，我没有。”赫敏说，“我对你完全有信心。”
　　“事实上，我的确对他施了咒。”当他们正把阿不思的行李和猫头鹰抬到车厢上的时候，罗恩小声对哈利说。“我只不过忘了看观后镜，不过确实，我对他用了混淆咒。”
　　当他们回到月台，发现了莉莉和雨果－－露丝的弟弟，正在起劲地议论着，将来等他们到了霍格沃茨会被分到什么学院。
　　“如果你不在格兰芬多，我们会剥夺你的继承权。”罗恩说，“但是别给自己太大压力。“
　　“罗恩！”
　　莉莉和雨果大笑了起来，但是阿不思和露丝看起来都很紧张。
　　“他不是那个意思。”赫敏和金妮说道。但是罗恩不再注意他们了，他看到了哈利的目光，注意他正默默的看着在他们大约五十码开外的地方。雾气比刚才淡了一些，有三个身影在里面隐现。
　　“看，是谁呀。”
　　德拉科?马尔福站在妻子和儿子旁边，黑色的外套一直扣到咽喉。他稍微有点谢顶了，更显得下巴尖尖。那个小男孩可真像德拉科呀，就像阿不思像哈利一样。德拉科看到了哈利、罗恩、赫敏和金妮正看着他，稍稍点了一下头，就转过了身。
　　“那就是那个小斯科普斯吧”罗恩屏住呼吸说，“你可要保证每次考试都打败他，露丝。感谢上帝，你继承了你妈妈的脑子。”
　　“罗恩，看在老天的份上。”赫敏半嗔半笑地说道，“别让他们还没进学校就成了对头。”
　　“哦，你说得对，对不起。“罗恩说，但是还是不由自主的又加了一句，“尽管如此也别和他走的太近了，露丝，如果你嫁给一个纯血种的，韦斯莱祖先们不会原谅你的。”
　　“嗨！”
　　詹姆又回来了，他已经放下了他的箱子、猫头鹰和手推车，看起来似乎带来了什么爆炸新闻。
　　“泰迪也来到这儿了。”他气喘吁吁的说着，指了指身后的水蒸气。“我刚看到他了！你们猜他在干嘛？他在和维多利亚亲嘴！”
　　“我们的泰迪！泰迪?卢平！和我们的维多利亚亲嘴！我们的表姐！然后我问泰迪他在干什么——”
　　“你打断了他们？”金妮说，“你可真像罗恩……”
　　“他跟我说他就是来送送她！然后让我闪开。他在和她亲嘴呀！”詹姆又加上了一句，好像担心自己说得不够清楚。
　　“哦，如果他们能结婚那真是太好了！”莉莉心醉地低声说，“那样泰迪就真的成了我们家的一员了！“
　　“他已经一周来我们家吃四次晚饭了。”哈利说“我们为什么不邀请他和我们一起住呢？”
　　“耶！”詹姆兴奋地说，“我不介意和阿尔一起住，泰迪可以住我的房间！”
　　“不。”哈利坚定的说，“除非我想把房子毁了，我才会让你和阿尔住在一起。”
　　他低头看了看那曾经属于费比安?普威特的已经有点歪了的旧手表。
　　“马上就11点了，你们最好赶快上火车。”
　　“别忘了替我们给纳威问好！”当金妮拥抱詹姆的时候叮嘱他。
　　“老妈，我可不能跟一个教授太亲近了！”
　　“但是你是认识纳威的——”
　　詹姆翻了翻眼睛。
　　“那是在外面，对呀，但是在学校他是隆巴顿教授，不是吗？我可不能到了霍格沃茨还跟一个教授腻腻歪歪的……”
　　他摇摇头，为了妈妈的不开窍，然后对准阿不思踢了一脚，发泄自己的不满。
　　“回头见，阿尔，留神夜骐。”
　　“我想它们是隐形的？你说它们隐形！”
　　但是詹姆只是笑了笑，让他妈妈吻了他，给了他爸爸一个短暂的拥抱，就急匆匆的跑上了车。他们看到他挥挥手，就跑向了走廊里他的朋友们了。
　　“夜骐一点也用不着担心。”哈利告诉阿不思，“它们是很温顺的东西，没什么好害怕的。而且，你不是坐马车去学校，而是乘船。”
　　金妮吻别了阿不思。
　　“圣诞节见。”
　　“再见，阿尔。”哈利拥抱儿子时对他说，“别忘了海格邀请你们下周五去喝茶。别和皮皮鬼打架。在你学会了如何做之前不要和任何人决斗。别总让詹姆把你搞得紧张兮兮的。”
　　“如果我被分到了斯莱特林怎么办？”
　　他贴在父亲身边耳语着，哈利知道只有在离别的瞬间阿不思才真正地把害怕表现了出来。
　　哈利蹲了下来，这样阿不思可以直视他。在哈利的三个孩子中间，只有阿不思继承了莉莉的眼睛。
　　“阿不思?西弗勒斯。”哈利用除了金妮别人都听不到的声音说，但是金妮装作正在给刚刚上了火车的露丝招手。“我们用了霍格沃茨的两任校长的名字给你起了名字。他们中的一个就是一个斯莱特林，而他大概是我这辈子见过的最勇敢的人。”
　　“但如果——”
　　“那么斯莱特林会得到一个非常优秀的学生，不是吗？那没什么关系的。但是如果你真的很介意，你可以自己选择斯莱特林或者格兰芬多。分院帽会考虑你的选择的。”
　　“真的？”
　　“它对我就是这么做的”哈利说。
　　他以前从来没有把这个告诉他的孩子，当阿不思听到时，脸上充满了开心的表情。但这时猩红色的火车就要关门了，家长们涌向前面给孩子们最后一吻，同时做着最后的叮嘱，阿不思跳上车厢，金妮把他身后的门关上了。学生们涌向了离他们最近的车厢，无数张脸，车里的车外的，看起来都转向了哈利。
　　“为什么他们都这么盯着？”当阿不思和露丝看到四周的情况时疑惑的问道。
　　“别担心。”罗恩说，“那是因为我，我实在太出名了。”
　　阿不思、露丝、雨果和莉莉笑了。火车开动了，哈利退到了一边，看到他儿子瘦瘦的小脸正兴奋得发光。哈利一直微笑着挥着手，注视着儿子离开，尽管这看起来有那么点伤感……
　　最后一缕蒸汽的痕迹消失在秋天的空气中，火车转弯了，哈利的手仍然举在空中挥动着。
　　“他会没事的！”金妮低声说。
　　哈利看着她，茫然地低下头，摸了摸额头上闪电形的伤疤。
　　“我知道他会的。”
　　十九年来，哈利的伤疤再也没有疼过。一切都很好。

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Chapter 36 The Flaw in the Plan
He was flying facedown on the ground again. The smell of the forest filled his nostrils. He could feel the cold hard ground beneath his cheek, and the hinge of his glasses which have been knocked sideways by the fall cutting into his temple. Every inch of him ached, and the place where Killing Curse had hit him felt like the bruise of an iron-clad punch. He did not stir, but he remained exactly where he had fallen, with his left arm bent out at an awkward angle and his mouth gaping.
He had expected to hear cheer of triumph and jubilation at his death, but instead hurried footsteps, whispers, and solicitous murmurs filled the air.
“My Lord… my Lord…”
It was Bellatrix’s voice, and she spoke as if to a lover. Harry did not dare open his eyes, but allowed his other senses to explore his predicament. He knew that his wand was still stowed beneath his robes because he could feel it pressed between his chest and the ground. A slight cushioning effect in the area of his stomach told him that the Invisibility Cloak was also there, stuffed out of sight.
“My Lord…”
“That will do,” said Voldemort’s voice.
More footsteps. Several people were backing away from the same spot. Desperate to see what was happening and why, Harry opened his eyes by a millimeter.
Voldemort seemed to be getting to his feet. Various Death Eaters were hurrying away from him, returning to the crowd lining the clearing. Bellatrix alone remained behind, kneeling beside Voldemort.
Harry closed his eyes again and considered what he had seen. The Death Eaters have been buddled around Voldemort, who seem to have fallen to the ground. Something had happened when he had hit Harry with the Killing Curse. Had Voldemort too collapsed? It seemed like it. And both of them had briefly fallen unconscious and both of them had now returned…
“My Lord, let me –”
“I do not require assistance,” said Voldemort coldly, and though he could not see it, Harry pictured Bellatrix withdrawing a helpful hand. “The boy… Is he dead?”
There was a complete silence in the clearing. Nobody approached Harry, but he felt their concentrated gaze; it seemed to press him harder into the ground, and he was terrified a finger or an eyelid might twitch.
“You,” said Voldemort, and there was a bang and a small shriek of pain. “Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead.”
Harry did not know who had been sent to verify. He could only lie there, with his heart thumping traitorously, and wait to be examined, but at the same time nothing, small comfort through it was, that Voldemort was wary of approaching him, that Voldemort suspected that all had not gone to plan….
Hands, softer than he had been expecting, touched Harry’s face, and felt his heart. He could hear the woman’s fast breathing, her pounding of life against his ribs.
“Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?”
The whisper was barely audible, her lips were an inch from his ear, her head bent so low that her long hair shielded his face from the onlookers.
“Yes,” he breathed back.
He felt the hand on his chest contract: her nails pierced him. Then it was withdrawn. She had sat up.
“He is dead!” Narcissa Malfoy called to the watchers.
And now they shouted, now they yelled in triumph and stamped their feet, and through his eyelids, Harry saw bursts of red and silver light shoot into the air in celebration.
Still feigning death on the ground, he understood. Narcissa knew that the only way she would be permitted to enter Hogwarts, and find her son, was as part of the conquering army. She no longer cared whether Voldemort won.
“You see?” screeched Voldemort over the tumult. “Harry Potter is dead by my hand, and no man alive can threaten me now! Watch! Crucio!”
Harry had been expecting it, knew his body would not be allowed to remain unsullied upon the forest floor; it must be subjected to humiliation to prove Voldemort’s victory. He was lifted into the air, and it took all his determination to remain limp, yet the pain he expected did not come. He was thrown once, twice, three times into the air. His glasses flew off and he felt his wand slide a little beneath his robes, but he kept himself floppy and lifeless, and when he fell to ground for the last time, the clearing echoed with jeers and shrieks of laughter.
“Now,” said Voldemort, “we go to the castle, and show them what has become of their hero. Who shall drag the body? No – Wait – ”
There was a fresh outbreak of laughter, and after a few moments Harry felt the ground trembling beneath him.
“You carry him,” Voldemort said. “He will be nice and visible in your arms, will he not? Pick up your little friend, Hagrid. And the glasses – put on the glasses – he must be recognizable – ”
Someone slammed Harry’s glasses back onto his face with deliberate force, but the enormous hands that lifted him into the air were exceedingly gentle. Harry could feel Hagrid’s arms trembling with the force of his heaving sobs; great tears splashed down upon him as Hagrid cradled Harry in his arms, and Harry did not dare, by movement or word, to intimate to Hagrid that all was not, yet, lost.
“Move,” said Voldemort, and Hagrid stumbled forward, forcing his way through the close-growing trees, back through the forest.
Branches caught at Harry’s hair and robes, but he lay quiescent, his mouth lolling open, his eyes shut, and in the darkness, while the Death Eaters coed all around them, and while Hagrid sobbed blindly, nobody looked to see whether a pulse beat in the exposed neck of Harry Potter….
The two giants crashed along behind the Death Eaters; Harry could hear trees creaking and falling as they passed; they made so much din that birds toes shrieking into the sky, and even the jeers of the Death Eaters were drowned. The victorious procession marched on toward the open ground, and after a while Harry could tell, by the lightening of the darkness through his closed eyelids, that the trees were beginning to thin.
“BANE!”
Hagrid’s unexpected bellow nearly forced Harry’s eyes open. “Happy now, are yeh, that yeh didn’t fight, yeh cowardly bunch o’ nags? Are yeh happy Harry Potter’s – d-dead…?”
Hagrid could not continue, but broke down in fresh tears. Harry wondered how many centaurs were watching their procession pass; he dared not open his eyes to look. Some of the Death Eaters called insults at the centaurs as they left them behind. A little later, Harry sensed, by a freshening of the air, that they had reached the edge of the forest.
“Stop.”
Harry thought that Hagrid must have been forced to obey Voldemort’s command, because he lurched a little. And now a chill settled over them where they stood, and Harry heard the rasping breath of the dementors that patrolled the other trees. They would not affect him now.
The fact of his own survival burned inside him, a talisman against them, as though his father’s stag kept guardian in his heart.
Someone passed close by Harry, and he knew that it was Voldemort himself because he spoke a moment later, his voice magically magnified so that it swelled through the ground, crashing upon Harry’s eardrums.
“Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone.”
“The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together.”
There was silence in the grounds and from the castle. Voldemort was so close to him that Harry did not dare open his eyes again.
“Come,” said Voldemort, and Harry heard him move ahead, and Hagrid was forced to follow. Now Harry opened his eyes a fraction, and saw Voldemort striding in front them, wearing the great snake Nagini around his shoulders, now free of her enchanted cage. But Harry had no possibility of extracting the wand concealed under his robes without being noticed by the Death Eaters, who marched on the either side of them through the slowly lightening darkness….
“Harry,” sobbed Hagrid. “Oh, Harry… Harry…”
Harry shut his eyes tight again. He knew that they were approaching the castle and strained his ears to distinguish, above the gleeful voices of the Death Eaters and their tramping footsteps, signs of life from those within.
“Stop.”
The Death Eaters came to a halt; Harry heard them spreading out in a line facing the open front doors of the school. He could see, even though his closed lids, the reddish glow that meant light streamed upon him from the entrance hall. He waited. Any moment, the people for whom he had tried to die would see him, lying apparently dead, in Hagrid’s arms.
“NO!”
The scream was the more terrible because he had never expected or dreamed that Professor McGonagall could make such a sound. He heard another women laughing nearby, and knew that Bellatrix gloried in McGonagall’s despair. He squinted again for a single second and saw the open doorway filling with people, as the survivors of the battle came out onto the front steps to face their vanquishers and see the truth of Harry’s death for themselves. He saw Voldemort standing a little in front of him, stroking Nagini’s head with a single white finger. He closed his eyes again.
“No!”
“No!”
“Harry! HARRY!”
Ron’s, Hermione’s, and Ginny’s voices were worse than McGonagall’s; Harry wanted nothing more than to call back, yet he made himself lie silent, and their cries acted like a trigger; the crowd of survivors took up the cause, screaming and yelling abuse at the Death Eathers, until - “SILENCE!” cried Voldemort, and there was a bang and a flash of bright light, and silence was forced upon them all. “It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!”
Harry felt himself lowered onto the grass.
“You see?” said Voldemort, and Harry felt him striding backward and forward right beside the place where he lay. “Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!”
“He beat you!” yelled Ron, and the charm broke, and the defenders of Hogwarts were shouting and screaming again until a second, more powerful bang extinguished their voices once more.
“He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds,” said Voldemort, and there was a relish in his voice for the lie. “killed while trying to save himself – ”
But Voldemort broke off: Harry heard a scuffle and a shout, then another bang, a flash of light, and grunt of pain; he opened his eyes an infinitesimal amount. Someone had broken free of the crowd and charged at Voldemort: Harry saw the figure hit the ground. Disarmed, Voldemort throwing the challenger’s wand aside and laughing.
“And who is this?” he said in his soft snake’s hiss. “Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?”
Bellatrix gave a delighted laugh.
“It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?”
“Ah, yes, I remember,” said Voldemort, looking down at Neville, who was struggling back to his feet, unarmed and unprotected, standing in the no-man’s-land between the survivors and the Death Eaters. “But you are a pureblood, aren’t you, my brave boy?” Voldemort asked Neville, who stood facing him, his empty hands curled in fists.
“So what if I am?” said Neville loudly.
“You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom.”
“I’ll join you when hell freezes over,” said Neville. “Dumbledore’s Army!” he shouted, and there was an answering cheer from the crowd, whom Voldemort’s Silencing Charms seemed unable to hold.
“Very well,” said Voldemort, and Harry heard more danger in the silkiness of his voice than in the most powerful curse. “If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head,” he said quietly, “be it.”
Still watching through his lashes, Harry saw Voldemort wave his wand. Seconds later, out of one of the castle’s shattered windows, something that looked like a misshapen bird flew through the half light and landed in Voldemort’s hand. He shook the mildewed object by its pointed end and it dangled, empty and ragged: the Sorting Hat.
“There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School,” said Voldemort. “There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slythering, will suffice everyone. Won’t they, Neville Longbottom?”
He pointed his wand at Neville, who grew rigid and still, then forced the hat onto Neville’s head, so that it slipped down below his eyes. There were movements from the watching crowd in front of the castle, and as one, the Death Eaters raised their wands, holding the fighters of Hogwarts at bay.
“Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me,” said Voldemort, and with a flick of his wand, he caused the Sorting Hat to burst into flames.
Screams split the dawn, and Neville was a flame, rooted to the spot, unable to move, and Harry could not bear it: He must act - And then many things happened at the same moment.
They heard uproar from the distant boundary of the school as what sounded like hundreds of people came swarming over the out-of-sight walls and pelted toward the castle, uttering loud war cries. At the same time, Grawp came lumbering around the side of the castle and yelled, “HAGGER!” His cry was answered by roars from Voldemort’s giants: They ran at Grawp like bull elephants making the earth quake. Then came hooves and the twangs of bows, and arrows were suddenly falling amongst the Death Eaters, who broke ranks, shouting their surprise. Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak from inside his robes, swung it over himself, and sprang to his feet, as Neville moved too.
In one swift, fluid motion, Neville broke free of the Body-Bind Curse upon him; the flaming hat fell off him and he drew from its depths something silver, with a glittering, rubied handle - The slash of the silver blade could not be heard over the roar of the oncoming crowd or the sounds of the clashing giants or of the stampeding centaurs, and yet, it seemed to draw every eye. With a single stroke Neville sliced off the great snake’s head, which spun high into the air, gleaming in the light flooding from the entrance hall, and Voldemort’s mouth was open in a scream of fury that nobody could hear, and the snake’s body thudded to the ground at his feet. –
Hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Harry cast a Shield Charm between Neville and Voldemort before the latter could raise his stamps of the battling giants, Hagrid’s yell came loudest of all.
“HARRY!” Hagrid shouted. “HARRY – WHERE’S HARRY?” Chaos reigned. The charging centaurs were scattering the Death Eaters, everyone was feeling the giants’ stamping feet, and nearer and nearer thundered the reinforcements that had come from who knew where; Harry saw great winged creatures soaring the heads of Voldemort’s giants, thestrals and Buckbeak the hippogriff scratching at their eyes while Grawp punched and pummeled them and now the wizards, defenders of Hogwarts and Death Eaters alike were being forced back into the castle. Harry was shooting jinxes and curses at any Death Eater he could see, and they crumpled, not knowing what or who had hit them, and their bodies were trampled by the retreating crowd. Still hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Harry was buffered into the entrance hall: He was searching for Voldemort and saw him across the room, firing spells from his wand as he backed into the Great Hall, still screaming instructions to his followers as he sent curses flying left and right; Harry cast more Shield Charms, and Voldemort’s would-be victims. Seamus Finnigan and Hannah Abbott, darted past him into the Great Hall, where they joined the fight already flourishing inside it.
And now there were more, even more people storming up the front steps, and Harry saw Charlie Weasley overtaking Horace Slughorn, who was still wearing his emerald pajamas. They seemed to have returned at the head of what looked like the families and friends of every Hogwarts student who had remained to fight along with the shopkeeps and homeowners of Hogsmeade. The centaurs Bane, Ronan and Magorian burst into the hall with a great clatter of hooves, as behind Harry the door that led to the kitchens was blasted off its hinges.
The house-elves of Hogwarts swarmed into the entrance hall, screaming and waving carving knives and cleaver, and at their head, the locker of Regulus Black bouncing on his chest, was Kreacher, his bullfrog’s voice audible even above this din: “Fight! Fight! Fight for my Master, defender of house-elves! Fight the Dark Lord, in the name of brave Regulus! Fight!”
They were hacking and stabbing at the ankles and shim of Death Eaters their tiny faces alive with malice, and everywhere Harry looked Death Eaters were folding under sheer weight of numbers, overcome by spells, dragging arrows from wounds, stabbed in the leg by elves, or else simply attempting to escape, but swallowed by the oncoming horde.
But it was not over yet: Harry sped between duelers, past a struggling prisoners, and into he Great Hall.
Voldemort was in the center of the battle, and he was striking and smiting al within reach. Harry could not get a clear shot, but fought his way nearer, still invisible, and the Great Hall became more and more crowded as everyone who could walk forced their way inside.
Harry saw Yaxley slammed to the floor by George and Lee Jordan, saw Dolohov fall with a scream at Flitwick’s hands, saw Walden Macnair thrown across the room by Hagrid, hit the stone wall opposite, and slide unconscious to the ground. He saw Ron and Neville bringing down Fenrir Greyback. Aberforth Stunning Rookwood, Arthur and Percy flooting Thicknesse, and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy running through the crowd, not even attempting to fight, screaming for their son.
Voldemort was now dueling McGonagall, Slughorn, Kingsley all at once, and there was a cold hatred in his face as they wove and ducked around him, unable to finish him - Bellatrix was still fighting too, fifty yards away from Voldemort, and like her master she dueled three at once: Hermione, Ginny and Luna, all battling their hardest, but Bellatrix was equal to them, and Harry’s attention was diverted as a Killing Curse shot so close to Ginny that she missed death by an inch -
He changed course, running at Bellatrix rather than Voldemort, but before he had gone a few steps he was knocked sideways.
“NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!”
Mrs. Weasley threw off her cloak as she ran, freeing her arms, Bellatrix spun on the spot, roaring with laughter at the sight of the new challenger.
“OUT OF MY WAY!” shouted Mrs. Weasley to the three girls, and with a simple swipe of her wand she began to duel. Harry watched with terror and elation as Molly Weasley’s wand slashed and twisted, and Bellatrix Lestrange’s smile faltered and became a snarl. Jets of light flew from both wands, the floor around the witches’ feet became hot and cracked; both woman were fighting to kill.
“No!” Mrs. Weasley cried as a few students ran forward, trying to come to her aid. “Get back! Get back! She is mine!”
Hundreds of people now lined the walls, watching the two fights, Voldemort and his three opponents, Bellatrix and Molly, and Harry stood, invisible, torn between both, wanting to attack and yet to protect, unable to be sure that he would not hit the innocent.
“What will happen to your children when I’ve killed you?” taunted Bellatrix, as mad as her master, capering as Molly’s curses danced around her. “When Mummy’s gone the same way as Freddie?”
“You – will – never – touch – our – children – again!” screamed Mrs. Weasley.
Bellatrix laughed the same exhilarated laugh her cousin Sirius had given as he toppled backward through the veil, and suddenly Harry knew what was going to happen before it did.
Molly’s curse soared beneath Bellatrix’s constricted arm and hit her squarely in the chest, directly over her heart.
Bellatrix’s gloating smile froze, her eyes seemed to bulge: For the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemord screamed.
Harry felt as though he turned into slow motion: he saw McGonagall, Kingsley and Slughorn blasted backward, flailing and writhing through the air, as Voldemort’s fury at the fall of his last, best lieutenant exploded with the force of a bomb, Voldemort raised his wand and directed it at Molly Weasley.
“Protego!” roared Harry, and the Shield Charm expanded in the middle of the Hall, and Voldemort stared around for the source as Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak at last.
The yell of shock, the cheers, the screams on every side of: “Harry!”
“HE’S ALIVE!” were stifled at once. The crowd was afraid, and silence fell abruptly and completely as Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and began, at the same moment, to circle each other.
“I don’t want anyone else to help,” Harry said loudly, and in the total silence his voice carried like a trumpet call. “It’s got to be like this. It’s got to be me.”
Voldemort hissed.
“Potter doesn’t mean that,” he said, his red eyes wide. “This isn’t how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?”
“Nobody,” said Harry simply. “There are no more Horcruxes. It’s just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good….”
“One of us?” jeered Voldemort, and his whole body was taut and his red eyes stared, a snake that was about to strike. “You think it will be you, do you, the boy who has survived by accident, and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?”
“Accident, was it, when my mother died to save me?” asked Harry. They were still moving sideways, both of them, in that perfect circle, maintaining the same distance from each other, and for Harry no face existed but Voldemort’s. “Accident, when I decided to fight in that graveyard? Accident, that I didn’t defend myself tonight, and still survived, and returned to fight again?”
“Accidents!” screamed Voldemort, but still he did not strike, and the watching crowd was frozen as if Petrified, and of the hundreds in the Hall, nobody seemed to breathe but they two. “Accident and chance and the fact that you crouched and sniveled behind the skirts of greater men and women, and permitted me to kill them for you!”
“You won’t be killing anyone else tonight,” said Harry as they circled, and stared into each other’s eyes, green into red. “You won’t be able to kill any of them ever again. Don’t you get it? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people – ”
“But you did not!”
“ – I meant to, and that’s what did it. I’ve done what my mother did. They’re protected from you. Haven’t you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? You can’t torture them. You can’t touch them. You don’t learn from your mistakes, Riddle, do you?”
“You dare – ”
“Yes, I dare,” said Harry. “I know things you don’t know, Tom Riddle. I know lots of important things that you don’t. Want to hear some, before you make another big mistake?”
Voldemort did not speak, but prowled in a circle, and Harry knew that he kept him temporarily mesmerized at bay, held back by the faintest possibility that Harry might indeed know a final secret….
“Is it love again?” said Voldemort, his snake’s face jeering. “Dumbledore favorite solution, love, which he claimed conquered death, though love did not stop him falling from the tower and breaking like and old waxwork? Love, which did not prevent me stamping out your Muddblood mother like a cockroach, Potter – and nobody seems to love you enough to run forward this time and take my curse. So what will stop you dying now when I strike?”
“Just one thing,” said Harry, and still they circled each other, wrapped in each other, held apart by nothing but the last secret.
“If it is not love that will save you this time,” said Voldemort, “you must believe that you have magic that I do not, or else a weapon more powerful than mine?”
“I believe both,” said Harry, and he saw shock flit across the snakelike face, though it was instantly dispelled; Voldemort began to laugh, and the sound was more frightening than his screams; humorless and insane, it echoed around the silent Hall.
“You think you know more magic than I do?” he said. “Than I, than Lord Voldemort, who has performed magic that Dumbledore himself never dreamed of?”
“Oh he dreamed of it,” said Harry, “but he knew more than you, knew enough not to do what you’ve done.”
“You mean he was weak!” screamed Voldemort. “Too weak to dare, too weak to take what might have been his, what will be mine!”
“No, he was cleverer than you,” said Harry, “a better wizard, a better man.”
“I brought about the death of Albus Dumbledore!”
“You thought you did,” said Harry, “but you were wrong.”
For the first time, the watching crowd stirred as the hundreds of people around the walls drew breath as one.
“Dumbledore is dead!” Voldemort hurled the words at Harry as in the marble tomb in the grounds of this castle, “I have seen it, Potter, and he will not return!”
“Yes, Dumbledore is dead,” said Harry calmly, “but you didn’t have him killed. He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant.”
“What childish dream is this?” said Voldemort, but still he did not strike, and his red eyes did not waver from Harry’s.
“Severus Snape wasn’t yours,” said Harry. “Snape was Dumbledore’s. Dumbledore’s from the moment you starting hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the thing you can’t understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle?”
Voldemort did not answer. They continued to circle each other like wolves about to tear each other apart.
“Snape’s Patronus was a doe,” said Harry, “the same as my mother’s, because he loved her for nearly all of his life, from the time when they were children. You should have realized,” he said as he saw Voldemort’s nostrils flare, “he asked you to spare her life, didn’t he?”
“He desired her, that was all,” sneered Voldemort, “but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him – ”
“Of course he told you that,” said Harry, “but he was Dumbledore’s spy from the moment you threatened her, and he’s been working against you ever since! Dumbledore was already dying when Snape finished him!”
“It matters not!” shrieked Voldemort, who had followed every word with rapt attention, but now let out a cackle of mad laughter. “It matters not whether Snape was mine or Dumbledore’s, or what petty obstacles they tried to put in my path! I crushed them as I crushed your mother, Snape’s supposed great love! Oh, but it all makes sense, Potter, and in ways that you do not understand!”
“Dumbledore was trying to keep the Elder Wand from me! He intended that Snape should be the true master of the wand! But I got there ahead of you, little boy – I reached the wand before you could get your hands on it, I understood the truth before you caught up. I killed Severus Snape three hours ago, and the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny is truly mine! Dumbledore’s last plan went wrong, Harry Potter!”
“Yeah, it did.” said Harry. “You’re right. But before you try to kill me, I’d advise you think what you’ve done…. Think, and try for some remorse, Riddle….”
“What is this?”
Of all the things that Harry had said to him, beyond any revelation or taunt, nothing had socked Voldemort like this. Harry saw is pupils contract to thin slits, saw the skin around his eyes whiten.
“It’s your one last chance,” said Harry, “it’s all you’ve got left…. I’ve seen what you’ll be otherwise…. Be a man… try…
Try for some remorse….“
“You dare –?” said Voldemort again.
“Yes, I dare,” said Harry, “because Dumbledore’s last plan hasn’t backfired on me at all. It’s backfired on you, Riddle.”
Voldemort’s hand was trembling on the Elder Wand, and Harry gripped Draco’s very tightly. The moment, he knew, was seconds away.
“That wand still isn’t working properly for you because you murdered the wrong person. Severus Snape was never the true master of the Elder Wand. He never defeated Dumbledore.”
“He killed – ”
“Aren’t you listening? Snape never beat Dumbledore! Dumbledore’s death was planned between them! Dumbledore intended to die, undefeated, the wand’s last true master! If all had gone as planned, the wand’s power would have died with him, because it had never been won from him!”
“But then, Potter, Dumbledore as good as gave me the wand!” Voldemort’s voice shook with malicious pleasure. “I stole the wand from its last master’s tomb! I removed it against the last master’s wishes! Its power is mine!”
“You still don’t get it, Riddle, do you? Possessing the wand isn’t enough! Holding it, using it, doesn’t make it really yours. Didn’t you listen to Ollivander? The wand chooses the wizard… The Elder Wand recognized a new master before Dumbledore died, someone who never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realizing exactly what he had done, or that the world’s most dangerous wand had given him its allegiance…”
Voldemort’s chest rose and fell rapidly, and Harry could feel the curse coming, feel it building inside the wand pointed at his face.
“The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy.”
Blank shock showed in Voldemort’s face for a moment, but then it was gone.
“But what does it matter?” he said softly. “Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you and me. You no longer have the phoenix wand: We duel on skill alone… and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy…”
“But you’re too late,” said Harry. “You’ve missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took his wand from him.”
Harry twitched the hawthorn wand, and he felt the eyes of everyone in the Hall upon it.
“So it all comes down to this, doesn’t it?” whispered Harry. “Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does… I am the true master of the Elder Wand.”
A red-glow burst suddenly across the enchanted sky above them as an edge of dazzling sun appeared over the sill of the nearest window. The light hit both of their faces at the same time, so that Voldemort’s was suddenly a flaming blur. Harry heard the high voice shriek as he too yelled his best hope to the heavens, pointing Draco’s wand:
“Avada Kedavra!“
“Expelliarmus!“
The bang was like a cannon blast, and the golden flames that erupted between them, at the dead center of the circle they had been treading, marked the point where the spells collided. Harry saw Voldemort’s green jet meet his own spell, saw the Elder Wand fly high, dark against the sunrise, spinning across the enchanted ceiling like the head of Nagini, spinning through the air toward the master it would not kill, who had come to take full possession of it at last. And Harry, with the unerring skill of the Seeker, caught the wand in his free hand as Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upward. Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse, and Harry stood with two wands in his hand, staring down at his enemy’s shell.
One shivering second of silence, the shock of the moment suspended: and then the tumult broke around Harry as the screams and the cheers and the roars of the watchers rent the air. The fierce new sun dazzled the windows as they thundered toward him, and the first to reach him were Ron and Hermione, and it was their arms that were wrapped around him, their incomprehensible shouts that deafened him. Then Ginny, Neville, and Luna were there, and then all the Weasleys and Hagrid, and Kingsley and McGonagall and Flitwick and Sprout, and Harry could not hear a word that anyone was shouting, not tell whose hands were seizing him, pulling him, trying to hug some part of him, hundreds of them pressing in, all of them determined to touch the Boy Who Lived, the reason it was over at last – The sun rose steadily over Hogwarts, and the Great Hall blazed with life and light. Harry was an indispensable part of the mingled outpourings of jubilation and mourning, of grief and celebration. They wanted him there with them, their leader and symbol, their savior and their guide, and that he had not slept, that he craved the company of only a few of them, seemed to occur to no one. He must speak to the bereaved, clasp their hands, witness their tears, receive their thanks, hear the news now creeping in from every quarter as the morning drew on; that the Imperiused up and down the country had come back to themselves, that Death Eaters were fleeing or else being captured, that the innocent of Azkaban were being released at that very moment, and that Kingsley Shacklebolt had been named temporary Minister of Magic.
They moved Voldemort’s body and laid it in a chamber off the Hall, away form the bodies of Fred, Tonks, Lupin, Colin Creevey, and fifty others who had died fighting him. McGonagall had replaced the House tables, but nobody was sitting according to House anymore: All were jumbled together, teachers and pupils, ghosts and parents, centaurs and house-elves, and Firenze lay recovering in the corner, and Grawp peered in through a smashed window, and people were throwing food into his laughing mouth. After a while, exhausted and drained, Harry found himself sitting on a bench beside Luna.
“I’d want some peace and quiet, if it were me,” she said.
“I’d love some,” he replied.
“I’ll distract them all,” she said. “Use your cloak.”
And before he could say a word, she had cried, “Oooh, look, a Blibbering Humdinger!” and pointed out the window. Everyone who heard looked around, and Harry slid the Cloak up over himself, and got to his feet.
Now he could move through the Hall without interference. He spotted Ginny two tables away; she was sitting with her head on her mother’s shoulder: There would be time to talk later, hours and days and maybe years in which to talk. He saw Neville, the sword of Gryffindor lying beside his plate as he ate, surrounded by a knot of fervent admirers. Along the aisle between the tables he walked, and he spotted the three Malfoys, huddled together as though unsure whether or not they were supposed to be there, but nobody was paying them any attention. Everywhere he looked, he saw families reunited, and finally, he saw the two whose company he craved most.
“It’s me,” he muttered, crouching down between them. “Will you come with me?”
They stood up at once, and together he, Ron and Hermione left the Great Hall. Great chunks were missing from the marble staircase, part of the balustrade gone, and rubble and bloodstains occurred ever few steps as their climbed.
Somewhere in the distance they could hear Peeves zooming through the corridors singing a victory song of his own composition:

We did it, we bashed them, wee Potter’s the one,
And Voldy’s gone moldy, so now let’s have fun!

“Really gives a feeling for the scope and tragedy of the thing, doesn’t it?“ said Ron, pushing open a door to let Harry and Hermione through.
Happiness would come, Harry though, but at the moment it was muffled by exhaustion, and the pain of losing Fred and Lupin and Tonks pierced him like a physical wound every few steps. Most of all he felt the most stupendous relief, and a longing to sleep. But first he owed an explanation to Ron and Hermione, who had stuck with him for so long, and who deserved the truth.
Painstakingly he recounted what he had seem in the Pensieve and what had happened in the forest, and they had not even begun to express all their shock and amazement, when at last they arrived at the place to which they had been walking, though none of them had mentioned their destination.
Since he had last seen it, the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmaster’s study had been knocked aside; it stood lopsided, looking a little punch-drunk, and Harry wondered whether it would be able to distinguish passwords anymore.
“Can we go up?” he asked the gargoyle.
“Feel free,” groaned the statue.
They clambered over him and onto the spiral stone staircase that moved slowly upward like an escalator. Harry pushed open the door at the top.
He had one, brief glimpse of the stone Pensieve on the desk where he had left it, and then an earsplitting noise made him cry out, thinking of curses and returning Death Eaters and the rebirth of Voldemort –
But it was applause. All around the walls, the headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts were giving him a standing ovation; they waved their hats and in some cases their wigs, they reached through their frames to grip each other’s hands; they danced up and down on their chairs in which they have been painted: Dilys Derwent sobbed unashamedly; Dexter Fortescue was waving his ear-trumpet; and Phineas Niggelus called, in his high, reedy voice, “And let it be noted that Slytherin House played its part! Let our contribution not be forgotten!”
But Harry had eyes only for the man who stood in the largest portrait directly behind the headmaster’s chair. Tears were sliding down from behind the half-moon spectacles into the long silver beard, and the pride and the gratitude emanating from him filled Harry with the same balm as phoenix song.
At last, Harry held up his hands, and the portraits fell respectfully silent, beaming and mopping their eyes and waiting eagerly for him to speak. He directed his words at Dumbledore, however, and chose them with enormous care. Exhausted and bleary-eyed though he was, he must make one last effort, seeking one last piece of advice.
“The thing that was hidden in the Snitch,” he began, “I dropped it in the forest. I don’t know exactly where, but I’m not going to go looking for it again. Do you agree?”
“My dear boy, I do,” said Dumbledore, while his fellow pictures looked confused and curious. “A wise and courageous decision, but no less than I would have expected of you. Does anyone know else know where it fell?”
“No one,” said Harry, and Dumbledore nodded his satisfaction.
“I’m going to keep Ignotus’s present, though,” said Harry, and Dumbledore beamed.
“But of course, Harry, it is yours forever, until you pass it on!”
“And then there’s this.”
Harry held up the Elder Wand, and Ron and Hermione looked at it with a reverence that, even in his befuddled and sleep-deprived state, Harry did not like to see.
“I don’t want it.” said Harry.
“What?” said Ron loudly. “Are you mental?”
“I know it’s powerful,” said Harry wearily. “But I was happier with mine. So…”
He rummaged in the pouch hung around his neck, and pulled out the two halves of holly still just connected by the finest threat of phoenix feather. Hermione had said that they could not be repaired, that the damage was too severe. All he knew was that if this did not work, nothing would.
He laid the broken wand upon the headmaster’s desk, touched it with the very tip of the Elder Wand, and said, “Reparo.”
As his wand resealed, red sparks flew out of its end. Harry knew that he had succeeded. He picked up the holly and phoenix wand and felt a sudden warmth in his fingers, as though wand and hand were rejoicing at their reunion.
“I’m putting the Elder Wand,” he told Dumbledore, who was watching him with enormous affection and admiration, “back where it came from. It can stay there. If I die a natural death like Ignotus, its power will be broken, won’t it? The previous master will never have been defeated. That’ll be the end of it.”
Dumbledore nodded. They smiled at each other.
“Are you sure?” said Ron. There was the faintest trace of longing in his voice as he looked at the Elder Wand.
“I think Harry’s right,” said Hermione quietly.
“That wand’s more trouble than it’s worth.” said Harry. “And quite honestly,” he turned away from the painted portraits, thinking now only of the four-poster bed lying waiting for him in Gryffindor Tower, and wondering whether Kreacher might bring him a sandwich there, “I’ve had enough trouble for a lifetime.”
哈利再一次感到自己面朝下地倒在了地上，森林的气味充斥鼻间，他感觉到面颊贴在寒冷坚硬的地面上，眼镜腿也在他摔倒的时候被撞歪了，卡在太阳穴上。他身体上每一寸肌肤都在疼，那个被死咒击中的部位就像被利器刺中了一样剧痛。但他一动也没动地呆在原地，左臂古怪地扭曲着，嘴巴大张。
　　他本以为能听到庆祝他死亡的欢呼声，但空气中却充斥着匆忙的脚步声、耳语声和热切的低语声。
　　“主人……我的主人……”
　　那是贝拉特里克斯的声音，她像是在对自己的爱人说话一般。哈利不敢睁开眼睛，但他还是在用其它感官去探知自己的险境。他知道魔杖还在他的袍子里，因为他能感觉到魔杖就抵在地面和前胸之间。在他倒下时，腹部的轻微缓冲让他知道了隐形衣也塞在别人看不到的地方。
　　“主人……”
　　“够了。”伏地魔说。
　　周围响起了很多脚步声，一些人从同一处向后退开，哈利把眼睛睁开一条缝，急切地想知道是怎么了。
　　伏地魔似乎站了起来，食死徒们都匆忙地离开他回到空地的人堆里，只有贝拉特里克斯还留在那里，跪在伏地魔的身边。
　　哈利再次闭上眼睛，思考着刚才看到的那一幕。伏地魔摔倒在地上，食死徒们围在他身边。在他用死咒攻击哈利的时候出了点状况。伏地魔被击倒了吗？看起来似乎是的。刚才他们两个都不省人事地倒下了，而现在他们都清醒了过来。
　　“主人，让我来……”
　　“我不需要帮助，”伏地魔冷冷地说。尽管哈利看不见他，但他脑袋里还是浮现出了贝拉特里克斯伸出一只手想要帮他的样子。
　　“那个男孩……死了吗？”
　　周围一片死寂，没有人接近哈利，但他可以感觉到周围注视的目光好像把他压进地面一样。他生怕哪根手指或是哪边眼皮会突然动弹一下。
　　“你，”伏地魔说，哈利听到一声巨响和因疼痛发出的抽泣声，“检查一下，然后告诉我他死没死。”
　　哈利不知道被派过来核实的人是谁，他只能躺在那里等着，而他的心脏此时却不听使唤地狂跳着，但是同时他心中有些许欣慰： 伏地魔不敢接近他，伏地魔怀疑计划并没有那么顺利……
　　一双比想象中柔软的手碰了碰哈利的脸，又摸了摸他的心脏，他感觉到那个女人急促的呼吸着，感觉到她那贴着他肋骨的心跳声。
　　“德拉科还活着吗？他在城堡里吗？”
　　这句耳语几不可闻，她的嘴唇几乎贴着哈利的耳朵，头倾得很低，长长的头发挡住了哈利，因而其他人都看不到他的脸。
　　“是的，”他轻声回答。
　　他感到胸前的那只手攥紧了，指甲戳到了他。然后她收回手，坐直了身子。
　　“他死了！”纳西莎?马尔福对旁观者们说。
　　现在，他们终于开始呼喊，他们兴奋地大声叫喊，手舞足蹈。透过眼皮，哈利看见了红色和银色的庆祝火焰射向天空。
　　他仍然躺在地上装死，他明白，唯一能让纳西莎进入霍格沃茨去找儿子的方法就是跟着胜利的大军一块儿进去，她已经不在乎伏地魔的胜负了。
　　“看见了吗？”伏地魔在喧闹中尖叫着，“我亲手杀死了哈利?波特，现在任何活着的人都不是我的对手了！看着吧！钻心剜骨！”
　　哈利早就知道会这样了，他知道他的身体不会这样一直静静地躺在森林的地面上，为了证明自己的胜利，伏地魔一定会去践踏、侮辱他的遗体。他被抛到空中，竭尽全力保持身体的柔软，但是疼痛并没有降临。他被抛向空中一次，两次，三次……眼镜被甩掉了，袍子下的魔杖也稍稍滑动了一下，他尽力的让自己软绵绵的像个死人，最后一次摔到地上的时候，周围回响起一阵嘲笑和讥讽的叫声。
　　“现在，”伏地魔说，“我们去城堡，让他们看看他们英雄的下场。谁过来拖尸首？不——等等……”
　　他突然出发出一阵刺耳的笑声，顷刻，哈利感觉到身下的地面抖动起来。
　　“你来抬他，”伏地魔说，“他在你的手臂里会显得更瘦小，更显眼，不是吗？拾起你的小朋友，海格。还有眼镜——戴上眼镜，他必须要很容易被辨认出来。”
　　有人不怀好意的狠狠地把眼镜扣在了哈利的脸上，但是，把哈利举起来的那双巨大的手却非常温柔。哈利能感觉到海格呜咽着颤抖着把自己抱在怀里，大滴大滴的眼泪溅落到他身上。但哈利既不敢动弹，也不敢通过语言来告诉海格这一切还没有结束。
　　“快走，”伏地魔说。海格踉踉跄跄的往前走了几步，被迫穿过茂密的树丛，由禁林向霍格沃茨走去。
　　树枝刮住了哈利的头发和袍子，但他还是静静地躺着，嘴巴自然地张开，双眼紧闭。一片黑暗中，食死徒们在他的周围说着话，而海格在不顾一切地哭着，没人会费心去摸摸哈利脖子上的青筋是否在跳动。
　　两个巨人在食死徒身后轰隆隆的拖着脚步。哈利能听见他们走过森林时，树木吱吱作响然后倒掉的声音。他们弄出的声音太大了，鸟儿被吓得尖叫着飞向天空，甚至连食死徒尖锐的笑声也模糊了。胜利的大军慢慢接近了开阔的场地，过了一会儿，黑暗中有光芒穿透了哈利的眼帘，树木也变得稀少了。
　　“贝恩！”
　　海格突然一吼，差点让哈利睁开了眼睛。“现在高兴了吧，是吧，你们根本没去战斗，你们这群懦弱的老驽马，哈利死……死了你们很高兴吧……”
　　海格没法继续说下去了，他又痛哭了起来。哈利不知道身后有多少马人在看着大军前进，因为他不敢睁开眼睛。队伍继续前进，把马人甩在了后面，一些食死徒嘴里说着侮辱马人的话。没过多久，哈利感觉到前面的空气变得清新了，他们已经到了森林的边缘。
　　“停下。”
　　哈利知道海格一定是被迫服从伏地魔的命令的，因为他踉跄了一下。一时间，寒冷笼罩了他们，哈利听到了在树丛间巡视的摄魂怪的呼吸声。他们现在影响不了他，活着的这个事实在哈利心中燃烧起来，这个信念帮助哈利抵抗着摄魂怪，就好像他父亲的牡鹿在他心中保护他一样。
　　有人紧贴着哈利走过去了，哈利知道到那是伏地魔本人，因为马上他开始说话了，他那被魔法放大的声音冲进了场地，敲击着哈利的耳膜。
　　“哈利?波特已经死了，他在逃跑的时候被杀了，在你们用生命保护他的时候，他想的却是保全自己的命。为了让你们确信你们的英雄已经死了，我们把他的尸体也带来了。”
　　“我们已经赢了战斗。而你们失去了一半的战士，我的食死徒人数比你们多，大难不死的男孩已经完蛋了，不需要再有任何战争了。任何要继续抵抗的人和他们的家人，无论是男是女还是小孩，都会被处死。从城堡里出来吧，在我的面前下跪吧，你们会被宽恕的，你们的家人、孩子、兄弟姐妹都会被宽恕。你们会加入我，我们会共同建设一个崭新的世界。”
　　城堡那边的场地上一片寂静。哈利现在不敢睁眼看看当前的状况，因为伏地魔离他太近了。
　　“过来。”伏地魔说。哈利听见他正往前走，海格也被迫跟了过去。这时哈利微微睁开了眼，看到伏地魔正大步地走在他们前面，那条大蛇纳吉尼在他的肩头缠绕着，现在那个魔法变出的笼子已经不见了。但是在微微闪烁的黑暗中，食死徒们缓缓跟随着他们，哈利无法在不被发现的情况下从袍子底下抽出魔杖。
　　“哈利，”海格抽泣着“噢，哈利……哈利……”
　　哈利又紧紧的闭上了眼睛，他知道他们正在接近城堡。他竖起了耳朵，在食死徒愉快的谈话声和脚步声中，仔细地分辨着霍格沃茨里面的生命迹象。
　　“停。”
　　食死徒们停下了脚步，哈利听到了他们面对城堡散成一排的声音。尽管哈利闭着眼睛，他也可以感觉到门厅的灯光洒向了他。他等待着。他用生命保卫着的人们瞬间就可能看到他躺在海格的怀中，已经死去了。
　　“不！”
　　那尖叫声比他想象的更糟糕，他从没想过到麦格教授会发出那种声音。他听见了贝拉特里克斯得意地看着绝望的麦格教授时发出的笑声。他又睁了一下眼睛，看到了门口站满了战斗中的幸存者，他们从里面冲出来面对着攻击他们的人，而且看到了哈利已经死了。他还看到了伏地魔在他前面不远处站着，用一只苍白的手指抚摸着纳吉尼的脑袋。哈利又闭上了眼睛。
　　“不！”
　　“不！”
　　“哈利！哈利！”
　　罗恩、赫敏、金妮的声音听起来比麦格的更加痛苦。哭声爆发出来，震耳欲聋。虽然他想赶快起来，可还是强迫自己安静的躺着。人们看到眼前的景象，哭喊尖叫着怒骂食死徒，直到——
　　“安静！”伏地魔喊了一声，同时发出了一束带着巨响的光：“结束了！把他放下来，海格，放到我脚边，这才是属于他的位置。”
　　哈利感觉到自己被放到了草坪上。
　　“你们看到了吧？”伏地魔说，哈利感到他大步地在他躺着的地方来回踱着，“哈利?波特死了！你们现在明白了吧，被迷惑的人们，他死了，那个靠别人的牺牲而保全自己的男孩不存在了！”
　　“他打败过你！”罗恩哭喊着，平静被打破了，霍格沃茨的保卫者们同时开始哭喊和尖叫，一个更响的爆炸声再一次熄灭了他们的声音。
　　“当他在城堡周围打算逃跑时被我杀了，“伏地魔说，意味深长地扯着谎，“在他打算保全自己的时候被杀死——”
　　但是伏地魔被打断了，哈利听到了一阵骚乱，然后是另一声巨响、一束亮光和痛苦的呻吟。他把眼睛睁开了一个小缝看了看周围。有个人冲出了人群袭击了伏地魔，哈利看到那个人倒在地上，被解除了武器，伏地魔把挑战者的魔杖扔在一边大笑着。
　　“这又是谁啊？”他用蛇一般的柔软的声音说着：“是谁想证明失败者企图延续斗争会得到的结果啊？
　　贝拉特里克斯愉快地笑了一声：“他是纳威?隆巴顿，主人！就是这个男孩曾经给卡罗兄妹制造了不少麻烦！他是傲罗的儿子，记得吗？”
　　“哦，是的，我记得，”伏地魔低头看了看纳威说，纳威正挣扎着从他的脚下站了起来，徒手站在幸存者和食死徒之间的空地上。“但是你是纯血统的，对吗？我勇敢的孩子？”伏地魔问道，纳威站在他的面前，空空的手掌握成了拳头。
　　“是又怎么样？”纳威大声问道。
　　“你表现出了你的精神和勇气，你出身高贵，你可以成为一个非常有价值的食死徒。我们需要你的帮忙，纳威?隆巴顿。“
　　“我永远也不会加入你们的。”纳威说，“邓布利多军！”他喊道，人群中传出一阵应答声，即使是伏地魔的声音抑制咒也不能完全控制住。
　　“很好，”伏地魔说，哈利知道，那柔软如丝的声音中所包含的危险，比大多数咒语还要可怕得多。“如果这就是你的选择，那么隆巴顿，我们还是回到最初的计划上来，把头伸过来。”
　　哈利依然眯着眼睛，看到伏地魔挥舞着魔杖。几秒钟之后，一个奇怪的像鸟一样的东西从城堡的一扇破碎的窗户里飞出来，落在了伏地魔的手掌中。他摇晃着那个已经有点发霉的，粗糙的、空瘪的东西：分院帽。
　　“霍格沃茨再也不需要分院了。”伏地魔说，“那里再也没有什么其他的学院了，每一个人，都将使用我高贵的祖先萨拉查?斯莱特林的标志、徽章和颜色，是不是呢，纳威?隆巴顿？”
　　纳威坚毅平静地站在那里，伏地魔伸出魔杖指着他，分院帽被扣在了纳威的头上，滑到了眼睛下面。城堡前面的旁观者们开始骚动。在另一边，食死徒们也举起了他们的魔杖，防备着霍格沃茨可能爆发的战斗。
　　“纳威将示范给你们看，如果一个人始终愚蠢的反对我会怎么样。”伏地魔一边说，一边挥动着他的魔杖，分院帽着起了火。尖叫声打破了沉寂，纳威毅然决然的站在那里，一动也不动。哈利再也不能忍受了，他必须行动起来——
　　然而就在那一刹那，好几件事情同时发生了：
　　他们听到学校边界处的骚动声，就好像成千上万的人翻过了那道看不见的围墙进入了城堡，发出战争的宣言。同时，格洛普从城堡的另一边跑了过来喊着“海格！”他的哭喊声得到了伏地魔的巨人们的回应了，他们跑向了格洛普，好像野牛与象群一样弄得地动山摇。一阵拉弓放箭的声音响起，弓箭射到了已经乱了阵型惊恐尖叫着的食死徒中间。哈利从他的斗篷里拿出隐身衣披上，跳了起来，纳威这时也跑开了。
　　纳威敏捷地破解了施在他身上的束缚咒，燃烧着的帽子掉了下来，从它中间露出了一个银色的东西，柄上的红宝石熠熠生辉——
　　在这人群嘈杂，巨人混战以及马人的马蹄声中，银剑重重的落地声没有任何人能听得到，但这一刻它还是吸引住了所有的目光。纳威干净利落地砍下了伸到空中的巨蛇的脑袋，它旋转着飞上高空，在门廊划过一道微光。伏地魔狂怒的张大嘴巴尖叫，但谁也听不见他的声音。蛇的尸体掉下来，砸在他的脚边。
　　哈利藏在隐身衣下面，赶在伏地魔把正在作战的巨人们召唤过来之前，在纳威和伏地魔之间施了一个盔甲护身咒，这时海格的吼声盖过了所有声音。
　　“哈利！”海格叫喊着。“哈利——哈利在哪儿？”
　　混战仍在继续。马人们不断地向食死徒射箭，每个人都能感觉到巨人走动时大地的震颤，增援大军振聋发聩的声音越来越近。哈利看到许多有着巨大翅膀的生物盘旋在伏地魔的巨人军队头顶上，那是许多夜骐——还有那头鹰头马身有翼兽巴克比克，它们在格洛普挣扎的时候猛抓其他巨人的眼睛。守卫霍格沃茨的巫师们和食死徒们都退回到城堡中，哈利对每一个他看到的食死徒发射着咒语，他们还不知道被谁攻击了就倒下了，任凭撤退的人群从他们身上踩过。
　　哈利躲在隐形衣下面走进了大门，他寻找着伏地魔，看见他从屋子里穿过，一边用魔杖不断地到处发射咒语，一边退到礼堂里不断吼叫地命令着他的随从们。哈利向可能被伏地魔攻击到的人发射了更多的盔甲护身咒，比如西莫、斐尼甘和汉娜。艾博在他后面追进大礼堂，加入了愈演愈烈的战斗。
　　入口台阶那里，越来越多的人涌了进来，哈利看到查理?韦斯莱赶上了穿着祖母绿睡裤的霍拉斯?斯拉格霍恩。每一个在霍格沃茨的人都成了家人和朋友，甚至包括霍格沃德村的店主和居民们都赶来一同战斗。马人贝恩、罗南和玛格瑞伴着马蹄的巨响也闯进了大厅，与此同时，哈利身后通往厨房的那道门也奇迹般地打开了。
　　霍格沃茨的家养小精灵们挥舞着刀叉尖叫着冲进大厅，在他们最前面，是胸前挂着雷古勒斯?布莱克的挂坠盒的克利
　　切，他那牛蛙一般的声音在一片喧嚣声中清晰可见：“战斗战斗！为了我那保卫家养小精灵的主人而战！打倒黑魔头，以勇敢的雷古勒斯的名义！战斗！”
　　他们在食死徒的脚上和胫骨上砍着刺着，小脸上布满了憎恶的表情。哈利看到四下的食死徒逐渐寡不敌众，有的被咒语打倒，有的正忍痛把箭从伤口里拔出来，有的腿被家养小精灵刺伤了，其他的干脆逃跑了，却又被赶来的支援大军所吞没。
　　战斗还没有结束。哈利避开决斗的人们，穿过拥挤的人群，跑进了礼堂。
　　伏地魔处在战斗的中心，他向每一个接近他的人发射咒语。哈利不会被咒语击中，他穿着隐身衣，离伏地魔更近了一步。这个时候，涌入礼堂的人越来越多，好像每个能走路的人都被挤了进来。
　　哈利看到亚克斯利被乔治和李乔丹击中倒地，看到多洛霍夫尖叫着被弗立维教授打倒，看到沃尔顿?麦克尼尔被海格穿过大厅扔到对面，撞到石墙上后不省人事地滑到了地面。他看到罗恩和纳威放倒了芬里尔?格雷伯克，阿不福思击晕了卢克伍德， 亚瑟和珀西在围攻底克尼斯，卢修斯和纳西莎?马尔福无心恋战，他们穿过人群大声呼唤着他们的儿子。
　　伏地魔正在同时对付麦格，斯拉格霍恩和金斯莱，他们在他周围迂回躲闪，脸上充满了冷冷的憎恶，却始终结果不了他——
　　贝拉特里克斯在伏地魔五十码外战斗着，同她的主人一样，她也同时迎战三人：赫敏、金妮和卢娜。她们三人都在竭力抵抗，但贝拉特里克斯和她们法力相当。当一道死咒几乎击中金妮时，哈利禁不住吓了一跳，死神里她就差那么一英寸……
　　他决定改变策略，从伏地魔那里转向贝拉特里克斯，但是还没走几步就被撞到了一边。
　　“别碰我女儿，你这个贱人！”
　　韦斯莱夫人脱掉了穿在身上的斗篷，腾开双臂，贝拉特里克斯停下了战斗，盯着她的新挑战者大笑起来。
　　“闪一边去！”韦斯莱夫人冲三个女孩喊着，她挥动魔杖开始了战斗。哈利紧张又高兴地看到莫丽?韦斯莱用魔杖灵活地发动着攻击，而贝拉特里克斯的笑容则僵了下来化做一阵咆哮。光束不断从两人的魔杖中喷射出来，周围的地板变得滚烫开裂，两个女人都在以死相搏。
　　当有几个学生跑过来打算帮她时，韦斯莱夫人大喊着：“不！回去！回去！她是我的！”
　　现在上百人围成了人墙，关注着这两场的战役，伏地魔和他的三个挑战者，以及贝拉特里克斯和莫丽。哈利站在隐身衣里，想去进攻但又不想伤及无辜，充满矛盾的站在两场决斗中间。
　　“如果你被我杀了，你那群孩子可怎么办呢？”贝拉特里克斯一边跳跃着躲避莫丽的咒语，一边用她主人那般嘲讽的声音说道，“如果妈妈和弗雷德一样惨死了呢？”
　　“你——别想——再碰——我们的－孩子！”韦斯莱夫人尖叫道。
　　贝拉特里克斯笑着，就像她把自己的堂兄弟小天狼星推到帷幕后面时一样愉快地狂笑着，哈利突然知道接下来会发生什么了。
　　莫丽的咒语穿过贝拉特里克斯张开的双臂，击中了她的胸膛，直指她的心脏。
　　贝拉特里克斯的笑容凝固了，眼睛凸了出来，瞬间，她意识到发生了什么，而后倒在了地上，伏地魔嚎叫了起来。
　　哈利觉得眼前的画面就好像慢镜头一样，他看到麦格、金斯莱和斯拉格霍恩被一股强大的魔力撞了回来，他们被抛向空中时翻腾挣扎着，伏地魔看到自己最得力的助手被杀死后，他的狂怒像炸弹爆发了，他挥动着魔杖直指莫丽?韦斯莱。
　　“盔甲护身！”哈利怒吼着，金甲护身咒在礼堂中间扩散开来，伏地魔四下寻找声音的来源，哈利一把揭掉了隐身衣。
　　惊呼声、欢庆声和尖叫声从四面八方涌来：“哈利！”“他还活着！”但片刻之后，就停住了。人群突然陷入了恐慌和死一般的寂静，伏地魔和哈利看着对方，开始缓慢的移动着脚步，他们始终保持着距离，似乎走在圆形轨道上。
　　“我不想要其他任何人的帮助，”哈利大声地说，在寂静中，他的声音亮如洪钟，“这是注定的，注定了是我来和他决斗。”
　　伏地魔嘘了一声。
　　“波特不是这个意思，”他说道，睁大了红色的眼睛，“那不是他的作风，是不是？你今天又要利用谁来作你的挡箭牌呢？波特？”
　　“没有任何人，”哈利简单地说，“魂器已经都被消灭了，这里只有你和我。一个人必须死在另一个的手上，我们两个人中将有一个活着……”

　　“我们中的一个？”伏地魔讥笑着，他的身体绷紧，猩红的眼睛射出毒蛇般恶毒的光芒，“你认为那将是你吧，是吗？意外幸存的男孩，就因为邓布利多在幕后帮你？”

　　“意外？你说意外？当我妈妈为了救我而牺牲的时候？”哈利问道，两人仍在移动着，形成一个完美的圆，彼此间始终保持着一段距离，现在哈利的眼里只看到伏地魔一个人，“那是意外吗，当我在墓地和你战斗的时候？是意外吗，我今晚没有任何抵抗却依然活着，回来继续战斗？”

　　“都是意外！”伏地魔大声喊着，但并没有出手，围观的人们好像被石化了一样的僵立着，在礼堂中的上百个人好像都没有呼吸，除了他们两个。“意外和侥幸，事实是你躲在那些比你厉害的多的巫师身后哭泣，让我杀了他们，以此来保全你自己！”

　　“你今晚杀不了任何人了，”哈利说道，他们继续沿着圆圈缓慢移动着，绿色眼睛与红色的对视着，“你再也没有能力杀掉他们中的任何一个了，你还没明白么？为了保护他们不受伤害，我可以去死。”

　　“但是你没死。”

　　“我本打算去死，而且我也做了。我做了我母亲做过的事。他们因此而受到保护不受你的伤害。你难道没注意到么？你用在他们身上的咒语都被束缚了，你折磨不了他们，你连碰都不能碰他们。你从来不吸取教训，里德尔，不是吗？”

　　“你竟敢——”

　　“是的，我敢，”哈利说，“我知道你所不知道的事情，汤姆?里德尔。我知道很多你不知道的非常重要的事情。在你犯更大的错误前，打算听点儿么？”

　　伏地魔还在圆圈上移动着脚步，一语不发。哈利知道他暂时把他稳住了，在知道那重大秘密之前伏地魔不会动手的……

　　“又是爱么？”伏地魔说道，蛇一样的脸作出嘲笑的神情，“邓布利多最喜欢的答案，爱，他声称爱可以征服死亡，但是爱没有阻止他从塔上像一个老蜡像一般掉下来；爱没有阻止我像踩死蟑螂一样杀死你那个泥巴种妈妈。波特——而且现在，好像没人爱你爱到冲到前面为你挡住我的魔咒了。那么，在我攻击的时候，什么会阻止你的死亡呢？”

　　“只有一件事！”哈利说，依然保持着彼此间的圈子，依然绕着对方移动，为了最后的秘密保持着距离。

　　“如果这次救你的不是爱，”伏地魔说，“你一定认为你知道我不知道的魔法，或者有比我的更厉害的武器？”

　　“我想这两样我都有。”哈利说，他看到了那蛇一般的脸上掠过了一丝恐惧，尽管那马上就消失了。伏地魔又开始狂笑，那笑声比他的尖叫声更可怕。疯狂的没有人性的笑，在寂静的大厅里回荡。

　　“你觉得你比我懂得更多的魔法？”他说，“比我？比伏地魔？那个会使用邓布利多想都想不到的魔法的人还多？”

　　“哦，他想象到了，”哈利说，“他比你知道的多得多，多得足以让他没去做那些你所做的事情。”

　　“你的意思是他太软弱了！”伏地魔叫道，“他太软弱了所以不敢那么做，所以得不到本来应该属于他的，而那将是我的！”

　　“不，他比你聪明，”哈利说，“他是个更好的巫师，更好的人”

　　“我杀了邓布利多！”

　　“你以为你做到了，”哈利说，“但是你错了。”

　　一时间，围观的人群骚动起来，就好像几百个人同时恢复了呼吸。

　　“邓布利多已经死了！”伏地魔掷地有声的说，“他的尸体已经埋葬在城堡外面的大理石坟墓里，我看到他了，波特，他再也不会回来了！”

　　“是的，邓布利多已经死了，”哈利平静地说，“但他不是被杀的。他选择用自己的方式死亡，在他死几个月之前就计划好了，他和那个你认为是你的仆人的人计划了一切。”

　　“这是个多么幼稚的白日梦呀？”伏地魔说，但是他仍然没有发动攻击，红色的眼睛盯着哈利没有移动。

　　“西弗勒斯?斯内普不是你的人，”哈利说，“斯内普是邓布利多的人，从你开始打算要杀我妈妈时，他就站了邓布利多这边。你从来没意识到这一点，因为你根本就不懂。你从来没见过斯内普的守护神吧，里德尔？”

　　伏地魔没有回答。他们仍然互相绕着圈，就像两只狼正打算撕裂对方。

　　“斯内普的守护神是——雌鹿，”哈利说，“和我妈妈的一样，因为从他们还是孩子的时候，他就几乎用全部的生命爱着他，你明白了吧？”他看到伏地魔的鼻翼扇动着。

　　“他求你饶了她的命，是不是？”

　　“他想得到她，仅此而已，”伏地魔冷笑着，“但是一旦她不在了，他也知道这世上还有其他的女人，纯血统的女人，更值得让他拥有——”

　　“他当然会这么跟你说。”哈利说，“但是从你威胁她开始，他就已经成了邓布利多的间谍，他也是从那时开始从事对抗你的工作！当邓布利多被斯内普杀掉的时候，他已经快死了！”

　　“无所谓！”伏地魔尖声地说道，全神贯注的投入到每个字眼中，他爆发出了一阵狂乱的笑声，“斯内普是谁的人根本无关紧要，其他任何试图放在我面前的障碍也都无所谓！我已经毁了他们，就像我杀死了你妈妈一样，斯内普那所谓的伟大的爱！哦，但是它们真正的意义，哈利，你永远也不会明白！”

　　“邓布利多努力阻止我拿到长老魔杖！他故意让斯内普成为魔杖的主人！但是我抢在了你的前头，小男孩……我在你之前得到了魔杖。在你赶来之前我已经明白了其中的真理。我三个小时以前杀了西弗勒斯?斯内普，而长老魔杖，死亡之杖，命运之杖已经完完全全是我的了！邓布利多最后一步棋走错了，哈利?波特！”

　　“是的，是错了。”哈利说，“你说得对，但是在你企图杀我之前，我请你回想一下你的所作所为……想想吧，试着忏悔一下吧，里德尔……”

　　“什么意思？”

　　哈利对他说过的所有的话，包括那些披露和嘲弄，都没有像这句话让伏地魔如此震惊。哈利看到他皮肤缝隙中的瞳孔猛然收缩，看到他眼睛周围的皮肤变得煞白。

　　“这是你最后的机会，”哈利说，“这是你唯一的机会了……我已经知道了你的下场……像个男人一样……努力……试着忏悔吧……”

　　“你竟敢——”伏地魔再次说。

　　“是的，我敢，”哈利说，“因为邓布利多最后的计划对于我来说没有任何事与愿违的地方，但是对于你却是，里德尔。”

　　伏地魔握着长老魔杖的手在颤抖，哈利紧紧地抓着德拉科的魔杖，他知道，那一刻就要到来了。

　　“那魔杖仍然不能为你工作，因为你的谋杀对象错了，西弗勒斯?斯内普从来都不是长老魔杖的真正主人，他从来都没有打败过邓布利多。”

　　“他杀了——”

　　“你难道没认真听吗？斯内普从来没有打败邓布利多！邓布利多的死是他们之间的一个计划！邓布利多，魔杖最后一个真正的主人，故意死去，没有任何的反抗！如果所有的事情都如计划的一样，那么魔杖的魔力会随着主人一同死去，因为它在他手上从来没被打败过！”

　　“但是那样的话，波特，邓布利多太仁慈了，那等于亲手把魔杖送给了我！”伏地魔的声音因为恶毒的愉快而颤抖着，“我把从它老主人的坟墓中偷出来了！我违背了它前一位主人的意愿移动了它！它的力量现在属于我！”

　　“你还是没有明白，里德尔，不是吗？单单占有魔杖是不够的！持有它，使用它，并不代表它就是你的。你没听奥利凡德的话吗？是魔杖选择巫师……长老魔杖在邓布利多死前就认了一个新主人，一个从来没有想过要得到它的人。魔杖从邓布利多那里强行到了新主人那里，但是他并没有意识到自己得到了什么，也没有意识到世界上最危险的魔杖正在为他效忠……”

　　伏地魔的胸膛快速的起伏着，哈利感觉到一道咒语马上就要向自己袭来，那根指着他的面门的魔杖正在蓄积着力量。

　　“长老魔杖真正的主人是德拉科?马尔福。”

　　伏地魔的脸因为震惊变得惨白了，但马上恢复了。

　　“但那又有什么关系呢？”他柔和地说，“就算你是对的，波特，那对你我来说也没什么差别。你再也没有凤凰尾羽的魔杖了，我们仅用魔法技巧决一高低……在我杀了你以后，我会去关心一下德拉科?马尔福的……”

　　“但是太晚了，”哈利说，“你没有机会了。因为我抢先了一步，两周前我已经战胜了德拉科?马尔福，我从他那里得到了魔杖。”

　　哈利抽出那山楂木的魔杖，他感到礼堂里的每双眼睛都盯着它。

　　“这就是事情的真相了，不是吗？哈利低声说：“你手里的魔杖最后使用的咒语是除你武器吗？如果是的话……那么我才是的真正主人。”

　　一道红光划破了他们头顶上被施了魔法的天空，就好像耀眼的阳光掠过窗台从离他们最近的窗户里射进来，同时照亮了他们两人的脸，伏地魔的脸看起来就像燃烧了一般，与此同时，哈利用德拉科的魔杖指着空中，他听到两声最高分贝的、注入了全部的期望的叫声同时响起：

　　“阿瓦达索命！”

　　“除你武器！”

　　随着犹如大炮一般的巨响，金色的火焰从他们两人的魔杖中喷发出来，就在两人刚才踩过的生死圈的中心，咒语冲撞在了一起。哈利看到了伏地魔的绿色魔咒碰到了他自己的魔咒，看到了长老魔杖高高地飞起，在日出的映衬下，划过施了魔法的天花板，就像纳吉尼的头。它从那个梦寐以求想要拥有它的人的方位划过。而后哈利，做为一个出色的找球手，在伏地魔倒地的同时用他空着的一只手抓住了那根魔杖——而伏地魔双臂张开，猩红的眼睛里的瞳孔张开翻了起来。汤姆?里德尔死了，以最平凡的样子死掉了，他的身体绵软地收缩在一起，双手空空，蛇一般的脸惨白空洞。伏地魔死了，被他自己的咒语弹回去杀死了，哈利握着两根魔杖站在那里，低头看着地上那敌人的空壳。

　　经过几秒钟的沉静，就时间已经停止了一样的沉静，然后骚动从哈利身边爆发了，惊叫声、欢呼声、呼喊声从围观的人群中发出来，直冲云霄。一道崭新的阳光从窗户中射进来，人们随着雷鸣般的欢呼声朝他围拢过来。最先跑到他跟前的是罗恩和赫敏，他们伸开双臂抱住了他，歇斯底里的呼喊声几乎要把他的耳朵震聋了。然后是金妮、纳威和卢娜，接下来是韦斯莱夫妇、海格、金斯莱和麦格教授，还有弗利维教授和斯普劳特教授，哈利没法分辨出出每一个人的声音，也无法认出来绕着他、推着他，想要拥抱他的那些手到底是谁的，成百上千的人涌过来，每个人都想亲手摸一下结束这一切的“大难不死的男孩”。

　　太阳缓缓地升起在霍格沃茨上方，礼堂里充满了生气和阳光。无论是欢庆的还是悲伤的、欢乐的还是难过的人们，都不想让哈利离开。他们都希望哈利留在这里和他们一起，他是他们的领袖和象征、他们的拯救者和向导，而他们都没有意识到哈利还没有睡过觉，哈利想要和几个朋友在一起聊聊。他必须要安慰那些丧失了亲友的人，紧握他们的双手，见证他们的泪水，接受他们的感谢，听着最新消息在清晨中传遍四面八方：全国上下那些被夺魂咒折磨的人都恢复了，食死徒们纷纷落网，阿兹卡班里无辜的人们都在第一时刻被释放出来，金斯莱?沙克尔被任命为魔法部的临时部长。

　　他们把伏地魔的尸体移到了礼堂的一个小房间里，同弗雷德、唐克斯、卢平、科林?克里维，以及其他五十位勇士的遗体远远分开。麦格把各学院的桌子都摆放整齐了，没有人再按照学院桌落坐了，所有的人都乱糟糟地坐在一起，教师和学生、鬼魂和家长们、马人和家养小精灵，费伦泽躺在角落里疗伤，格洛普透过一个摇摇欲坠的窗口朝里面张望，人们开怀大笑着，往嘴里扔着好吃的东西。过了一会儿，哈利感到筋疲力尽，发觉自己正坐在卢娜的旁边。

　　“我想找个地方安静一会儿。”她说。

　　“我也想。”哈利回答道。

　　“我把他们引开。”她说，“穿上你的斗篷。”

　　他还没有来得及回答，卢娜突然指着窗外喊起来：“哇噢，看，一只泡泡鼻涕怪！”每一个听到的人都四处寻找，哈利披上了隐身衣起身离开。

　　他现在可以不受干扰的穿过礼堂了，他和金妮隔着两张桌子，她坐在那里把头靠在妈妈的肩膀上。过一会儿他们就有时间好好谈谈了，几个小时，几周甚至也可以是几年。他看到了纳威正在吃东西，格兰芬多之剑就放在碟子旁边，他被崇拜者们炽热的目光包围着。在桌子间的走廊里，他看见了马尔福家的三个人正抱在一起，好像不知道是该留下还是离开，但是没人有空理他们。他每个地方都看遍了，看到了一个又一个家庭，最终他看到了他最想见到的两个人。

　　“是我，“他低声说，蜷缩在他们两个人中间，”你们能跟我过来一下吗？“

　　罗恩和赫敏立刻站了起来，和他一起离开了大礼堂。礼堂的大理石少了一块，一部分栏杆不见了，他们走过的每个台阶都遍布碎石和血迹，在不远处，他们听到皮皮鬼正在唱着自己创作的胜利之歌。

　　我们胜利了，打败了他们，我们是波特的人

　　伏地开始发霉咯，我们是多么开心

　　“确实跟那家伙的悲惨下场很贴切，不是么。”罗恩说着推开了一扇门，让哈利和赫敏走进去。

　　幸福的日子会来到的，哈利想，但是在被精疲力尽包围着的同时，失去弗雷德和卢平以及唐克斯的痛楚像一个无法痊愈的伤口一样穿透了他，使他每走一步心里都像刀割一样痛苦。他很想抛下一切去好好地睡一觉，但是他还欠他们一个解释，他们一直支持着他，他俩应该知道实情。当他平静的讲到自己在禁林里失去知觉时，他们两个还没有来得及表示震惊和惊愕，就来到了他们的目的地，虽然他们谁也没有说过目的地到底在那儿。

　　自从最后一次看到它，那头守卫校长办公室的滴水怪就被打到了一边，它倾斜地站着，好像要晕倒了。哈利怀疑它还能不能分辨出口令。

　　“我们能上去吗？”他问滴水怪。

　　“随便，随便。”巨怪呻吟着回答。

　　他们跟在他的后面爬上了石头做的螺旋状楼梯，它自动的升了上去，就象电梯一样，哈利推开了顶上的门。

　　他看了一眼留在桌子上的冥想盆，这时，震耳欲聋的声音突然爆发出来，他还以为是食死徒和伏地魔又复活了——

　　但那是一片欢呼声，墙壁上所有的霍格沃茨前任男女校长都在画框中起立，为他长时间地鼓掌着；他们挥舞着帽子，有几个则挥舞着假发，他们走出自己的相框互相握手；围绕着画里面的椅子跳着舞；戴丽丝?德文特不顾面子地哭泣着；福德斯克挥舞着他的助听器；菲尼亚斯?奈杰勒斯用他那高亢的尖细的声音叫着“让斯莱特林学院也加入了战斗的那一刻被铭记吧！不要忘记了我们作出的贡献！”

　　但是哈利的眼睛一直注视着校长椅子后面的那副最高大的人物肖像。眼泪从半月形的眼镜后流下来，一直留到银白色的长胡子里，他散发出来的自豪和感激的心情给了哈利如同凤凰的歌声般的安慰。

　　最后，哈利举起了手，肖像们立刻安静下来，调皮地闪烁着眼睛，等待着哈利的演讲。然而他径直对邓布利多说话了，其他人都非常认真地听着。虽然他已经筋疲力尽眼睛干涩，但是他仍然需要做一次努力，得到最后一个建议。

　　“藏在金色飞贼里的那个东西，”他开始说，“我把它丢在禁林里了，我不确定在这里，但是我不想再把它找回来了。你同意吗？”

　　“我亲爱的孩子，我同意。”邓布利多说，旁边的那些画像则都是一脸迷茫。“那真是一个明智而勇敢的决定，我预料到了你会这么做的。还有其他什么人知道它丢在了哪里吗？”

　　“没了，”哈利说，邓布利多满意地点点头。

　　“但我仍然要保留伊格诺思的礼物。”哈利说，邓布利多微笑着。

　　“当然了，哈利，它永远都是你的，除非你把它送出去！“

　　“然后还有这个。”

　　哈利举起了长老魔杖，罗恩和赫敏充满敬意地看着他，即使他如此疲倦迷糊，哈利仍然不喜欢这样的目光。

　　“我不想要它。”哈利说。

　　“什么？”罗恩大声说，“你疯了吗？”

　　“我知道它的力量，”哈利疲倦地说道，“但我用我的魔杖的时候更快乐，所以……”

　　他在他脖子里的小袋里翻找着，然后拿出自己那仅被一根凤凰羽毛连着的断掉的魔杖。赫敏说过那么严重的损伤是修不好的，而他知道如果这次也修不好，那就是真的没法修了。

　　他把魔杖放在了校长桌上，用长老魔杖的杖尖指着它，然后说“修复如初。”

　　随着一股红光从尾部消失，哈利知道他成功了，他拿起那根冬青木和凤凰尾羽作成的魔杖，感觉到指尖暖暖的，好像他的手和魔杖终于重逢了一样。

　　“我会把长老魔杖放回原来的地方，”他对正充满了慈爱和钦佩地看着他的邓布利多说，“它会一直在那里呆着。如果我自然死亡，就像伊格诺思那样，那它的魔力就会被打破，对吧？它前任的主人永远不会被战胜，而它将会在那里终结。”

　　邓布利多点点头，他们微笑地看着对方。

　　“你确定要这么做？”罗恩说。说这话的时候他有一点点渴望地看了一眼长老魔杖。

　　“我认为哈利是对的，”赫敏平静的说。

　　“那魔杖带来的麻烦远远胜过它能带来的益处，”哈利说。“说真的，”他从肖像们面前转身回去，现在一心只想着格兰芬多塔楼里带那张带四根围柱的床正在等着他，想着也许克利切能在那儿给他递上一块三明治，“我这辈子的麻烦已经够多了。”

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    Chapter Thirty-Five
    King‘s Cross
    He lay facedown， listening to the silence. He was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody else was there. He was not perfectly sure that he was there himself.
    A long time later， or maybe no time at all， it came to him that he must exist， must be more than disembodied thought， because he was lying， definitely lying， on some surface. Therefore he had a sense of touch， and the thing against which he lay existed too.
    Almost as soon as he had reached this conclusion， Harry became conscious that he was naked. Convinced as he was of his total solitude， this did not concern him， but it did intrigue him slightly. He wondered whether， as he could feel， he would be able to see. In opening them， he discovered that he had eyes.
    He lay in a bright mist， though it was not like mist he had ever experienced before. His surroundings were not hidden by cloudy vapor； rather the cloudy vapor had not yet formed into surroundings. The floor on which he lay seemed to be white， neither warm nor cold， but simply there， a flat， blank something on which to be.
    He sat up. His body appeared unscathed. He touched his face. He was not wearing glasses anymore.
    Then a noise reached him through the unformed nothingness that surrounded him：the small soft thumpings of something that flapped， flailed， and struggled. It was a pitiful noise， yet also slightly indecent. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he was eavesdropping on something furtive， shameful.
    For the first time， he wished he were clothed.
    Barely had the wish formed in his head than robes appeared a short distance away. He took them and pulled them on. They were soft， clean， and warm. It was extraordinary how they had appeared just like that， the moment he had wanted them. . . .
    He stood up， looking around. Was he in some great Room of Requirement？ The longer he looked， the more there was to see. A great domed glass roof glittered high above him in sunlight. Perhaps it was a palace. All was hushed and still， except for those odd thumping and whimpering noises coming from somewhere close by in the mist. . . .
    Harry turned slowly on the spot， and his surroundings seemed to invent themselves before his eyes. A wide-open space， bright and clean， a hall larger by far than the Great Hall， with that clear domed glass ceiling. It was quite empty. He was the only person there， except for –
    He recoiled. He had spotted the thing that was making the noises. It had the form of a small， naked child， curled on the ground， its skin raw and rough， flayed-looking， and it lay shuddering under a seat where it had been left， unwanted， stuffed out of sight，struggling for breath.
    He was afraid of it. Small and fragile and wounded though it was， he did not want to approach it. Nevertheless he drew slowly nearer， ready to jump back at any moment. Soon he stood near enough to touch it， yet he could not bring himself to do it. He felt like a coward. He ought to comfort it， but it repulsed him.
    “You cannot help.”
    He spun around. Albus Dumbledore was walking toward him， sprightly and upright， wearing sweeping robes of midnight blue.
    “Harry.” He spread his arms wide， and his hands were both whole and white and undamaged. “You wonderful boy. You brave， brave man. Let us walk.”
    Stunned， Harry followed as Dumbledore strode away from where the flayed child lay whimpering， leading him to two seats that Harry had not previously noticed， set some distance away under that high， sparkling ceiling. Dumbledore sat down in one of them，and Harry fell into the other， staring at his old headmaster‘s face. Dumbledore’s long silver hair and beard， the piercingly blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles， the crooked nose： Everything was as he had remembered it. And yet . . .
    “But you‘re dead，” said Harry.
    “Oh yes，” said Dumbledore matter-of-factly.
    “Then . . . I‘m dead too？”
    “Ah，” said Dumbledore， smiling still more broadly. “That is the question， isn‘t it？
    On the whole， dear boy， I think not.“
    They looked at each other， the old man still beaming.
    “Not？” repeated Harry.
    “Not，” said Dumbledore.
    “But . . .” Harry raised his hand instinctively toward the lightning scar. It did not seem to be there. “But I should have died – I didn‘t defend myself！ I meant to let him kill me！”
    “And that，” said Dumbledore， “will， I think， have made all the difference.”
    Happiness seemed to radiate from Dumbledore like light； like fire： Harry had never seen the man so utterly， so palpably content.
    “Explain，” said Harry.
    “But you already know，” said Dumbledore. He twiddled his thumbs together.
    “I let him kill me，” said Harry. “Didn‘t I？”
    “You did，” said Dumbledore， nodding. “Go on！”
    “So the part of his soul that was in me . . .”
    Dumbledore nodded still more enthusiastically， urging Harry onward， a broad smile of encouragement on his face.
    “。 . . has it gone？”
    “Oh yes！” said Dumbledore. “Yes， he destroyed it. Your soul is whole， and completely your own， Harry.”
    “But then . . .”
    Harry trembled over his shoulder to where the small， maimed creature trembled under the chair.
    “What is that， Professor？”
    “something that is beyond either of our help，” said Dumbledore.
    “But if Voldemort used the Killing Curse，” Harry started again， “and nobody died for me this time – how can I be alive？”
    “I think you know，” said Dumbledore. “Think back. Remember what he did， in his ignorance， in his greed and his cruelty.”
    Harry thought. He let his gaze drift over his surroundings. If it was indeed a palace in which they sat， it was an odd one， with chairs set in little rows and bits of railing here and there， and still， he and Dumbledore and the stunted creatures under the chair were the only beings there. Then the answer rose to his lips easily， without effort.
    “He took my blood，” said Harry.
    “Precisely！” said Dumbledore. “He took your blood and rebuilt his living body with it！ Your blood in his veins， Harry， Lily‘s protection inside both of you！ He thethered you to life while he lives！”
    “I live . . . while he lives？ But I thought . . . I thought it was the other way around！
    I thought we both had to die？ Or is it the same thing？“
    He was distracted by the whimpering and thumping of the agonized creature behind them and glanced back at it yet again.
    “Are you sure we can‘t do anything？”
    “There is no help possible.”
    “Then explain . . . more，” said Harry， and Dumbledore smiled.
    “You were the seventh Horcrux， Harry， the Horcrux he never meant to make. He had rendered his soul so unstable that it broke apart when he committed those acts of unspeakable evil， the murder of your parents， the attempted killing of a child. But what escaped from that room was even less than he knew. He left more than his body behind. He left part of himself latched to you， the would-be victim who had survived.
    “And his knowledge remained woefully incomplete， Harry！ That which Voldemort does not value， he takes no trouble to comprehend. Of house-elves and children‘s tales， of love， loyalty， and innocence， Voldemort knows and understands nothing. Nothing. That they all have a power beyond his own， a power beyond the reach of any magic， is a truth he has never grasped.
    “He took your blood believing it would strengthen him. He took into his body a tiny part of the enchantment your mother laid upon you when she died for you. His body keeps her sacrafice alive， and while that enchantment survives， so do you and so does Voldemort‘s one last hope for himself.”
    Dumbledore smiled at Harry， and Harry stared at him.
    “And you knew this？ You knew – all along？”
    “I guessed. But my guesses have usually been good，” said Dumbledore happily，and they sat in silence for what seemed like a long time， while the creature behind them continued to whimper and tremble.
    “There‘s more，” said Harry. “There’s more to it. Why did my wand break the wand he borrowed？”
    “As to that， I cannot be sure.”
    “Have a guess， then，” said Harry， and Dumbledore laughed.
    “What you must understand， Harry， is that you and Lord Voldemort have journeyed together into realms of magic hitherto unknown and untested. But here is what
    I think happened， and it is unprecedented， and no wandmaker could， I think， ever have predicted or explained it to Voldemort.
    “Without meaning to， as you now know， Lord Voldemort doubled the bond between you when he returned to a human form. A part of his soul was still attached to yours， and， thinking to strengthen himself， he took a part of your mother‘s sacrafice into himself. If he could only have understood the precise and terrible power of that sacrifice，he would not， perhaps， have dared to touch your blood. . . . But then， if he had been able to understand， he could not be Lord Voldemort， and might never have murdered at all.
    “Having ensured this two-fold connection， having wrapped your destinies together more securely than ever two wizards were joined in history， Voldemort proceeded to attack you with a wand that shared a core with yours. And now something very strange happened， as we know. The cores reacted in a way that Lord Voldemort，who never knew that your wand was a twin of his， had ever expected.
    “He was more afraid than you were that night， Harry. You had accepted， even embraced， the possibility of death， something Lord Voldemort has never been able to do. Your courage won， your wand overpowered his. And in doing so， something happened between those wands， something that echoed the relationship between their masters.
    “I believe that your wand imbibed some of the power and qualities of Voldemort‘s wand that night， which is to say that it contained a little of Voldemort himself. So your wand recognized him when he pursued you， recognized a man who was both kin and mortal enemy， and it regurgitated some of his own magic against him， magic much more powerful than anything Lucius’s wand had ever performed. Your wand now contained the power of your enormous courage and of Voldemort‘s own deadly skill：What chance did that poor stick of Lucius Malfoy’s stand？”
    “But if my wand was so powerful， how come Hermione was able to break it？”
    asked Harry.
    “My dear boy， its remarkable effects were directed only at Voldemort， who had tampered so ill-advisedly with the deepest laws of magic. Only toward him was that wand abnormally powerful. Otherwise it was a wand like any other . . . though a good one， I am sure，” Dumbledore finished kindly.
    Harry sat in thought for a long time， or perhaps seconds. It was very hard to be sure of things like time， here.
    “He killed me with your wand.”
    “He failed to kill you with my wand，” Dumbledore corrected Harry. “I think we can agree that you are not dead – though， of course，” he added， as if fearing he had been discourteous， “I do not minimize your sufferings， which I am sure were severe.”
    “I feel great at the moment， though，” said Harry， looking down at his clean，unblemished hands. “Where are we， exactly？”
    “Well， I was going to ask you that，” said Dumbledore， looking around. “Where would you say that we are？”
    Until Dumbledore had asked， Harry had not known. Now， however， he found that he had an answer ready to give.
    “It looks，” he said slowly， “like King‘s Cross station. Except a lo cleaner and empty， and there are no trains as far as I can see.”
    “King‘s Cross station！” Dumbledore was chuckling immoderately. “Good gracious， really？”
    “Well， where do you think we are？” asked Harry， a little defensively.
    “My dear boy， I have no idea. This is， as they say， your party.”
    Harry had no idea what this meant； Dumbledore was being infuriating. He glared at him， then remembered a much more pressing question than that of their current location.
    “The Deathly Hallows，” he said， and he was glad to see that the words wiped the smile from Dumbledore‘s face.
    “Ah， yes，” he said. He even looked a little worried.
    “Well？”
    For the first time since Harry had met Dumbledore， he looked less than an old man， much less. He looked fleetingly like a small boy caught in wrongdoing.
    “Can you forgive me？” he said. “Can you forgive me for not trusting you？ For not telling you？ Harry， I only feared that you would fail as I had failed. I only dreaded that you would make my mistakes. I crave your pardon， Harry. I have known， for some time now， that you are the better man.”
    “What are you talking about？” asked Harry， startled by Dumbledore‘s tone， by the sudden tears in his eyes.
    “The Hallows， the Hallows，” murmured Dumbledore. “A desperate man‘s dream！”
    “But they‘re real！”
    “Real， and dangerous， and a lure for fools，” said Dumbledore. “And I was such a fool. But you know， don‘t you？ I have no secrets from you anymore. You know.”
    “What do I know？”
    Dumbledore turned his whole body to face Harry， and tears still sparkled in the brilliantly blue eyes.
    “Master of death， Harry， master of Death！ Was I better， ultimately， than Voldemort？”
    “Of course you were，” said Harry. “Of course – how can you ask that？ You never killed if you could avoid it！”
    “True， true，” said Dumbledore， and he was like a child seeking reassurance. “Yet I too sought a way to conquer death， Harry.”
    “Not the way he did，” said Harry. After all his anger at Dumbledore， how odd it was to sit here， beneath the high， vaulted ceiling， and defend Dumbledore from himself.“Hallows， not Horcruxes.”
    “Hallows，” murmured Dumbledore， “not Horcruxes. Precisely.”
    There was a pause. The creature behind them whimpered， but Harry no longer looked around.
    “Grindelwald was looking for them too？” he asked.
    Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment and nodded.
    “It was the thing， above all， that drew us together，” he said quietly. “Two clever，arrogant boys with a shared obsession. He wanted to come to Godric‘s Hollow， as I am sure you have guessed， because of the grave of Ignotus Peverell. He wanted to explore the place the third brother had died.”
    “So it‘s true？” asked Harry. “All of it？ The Peverell brothers –”
    “—were the three brothers of the tale，” said Dumbledore， nodding. “Oh yes， I think so. Whether they met Death on a lonely road . . . I think it more likely that the
    Peverell brothers were simply gifted， dangerous wizards who succeeded in creating those powerful objects. The story of them being Death‘s own Hallows seems to me the sort of legend that might have sprung up around such creations.
    “The Cloak， as you know now， traveled down through the ages， father to son，mother to daughter， right down to Ignotus‘s last living descendant， who was born， as Ignotus was， in the village of Godric’s Hollow.”
    Dumbledore smiled at Harry.
    “Me？”
    “You. You have guessed，， I know， why the Cloak was in my possession on the night your parents died. James had showed it to me just a few days previously. It explained much of his undetected wrongdoing at school！ I could hardly believe what I was seeing. I asked to borrow it， to examine it. I had long since given up my dream of uniting the Hallows， but I could not resist， could not help taking a closer look. . . . It was a Cloak the likes of which I had never seen， immensely old， perfect in every respect . . . and then your father died， and I had two Hallows at last， all to myself！”
    His tone was unbearably bitter.
    “The Cloak wouldn‘t have helped them survive， though，” Harry said quickly.“Voldemort knew where my mum and dad were. The Cloak couldn’t have made them curse-proof.”
    “true，” sighed Dumbledore. “True.”
    Harry waited， but Dumbledore did not speak， so he prompted him.
    “So you‘d given up looking for the Hallows when you saw the Cloak？”
    “Oh yes，” said Dumbledore faintly. It seemed that he forced himself to meet Harry‘s eyes. “You know what happened. You know. You cannot despise me more than I despise myself.”
    “But I don‘t despise you –”
    “Then you should，” said Dumbledore. He drew a deep breath. “You know the secret of my sister‘s ill health， what those Muggles did， what she became. You know how my poor father sought revenge， and paid the price， died In Azkaban. You know how my mother gave up her own life to care for Ariana.
    “I resented it， Harry.”
    Dumbledore stated it baldly， coldly. He was looking now over the top of Harry‘s head， into the distance.
    “I was gifted， I was brilliant. I wanted to escape. I wanted to shine. I wanted glory.
    “Do not misunderstand me，” he said， and pain crossed the face so that he looked ancient again. “I loved them， I loved my parents， I loved my brother and my sister， but I was selfish， Harry， more selfish than you， who are a remarkably selfless person， could possibly imagine.
    “So that， when my mother died， and I was left the responsibility of a damaged sister and a wayward brother， I returned to my village in anger and bitterness. Trapped and wasted， I thought！ And then of course， he came. . . .”
    Dumbledore looked directly into Harry‘s eyes again.
    “Grindelwald. You cannot imagine how his ideas caught me， Harry， inflamed me. Muggles forced into subservience. We wizards triumphant. Grindelwald and I， the glorious young leaders of the revolution.
    “Oh， I had a few scruples. I assuaged my conscience with empty words. It would all be for the greater good， and any harm done would be repaid a hundredfold in benefits for wizards. Did I know， in my heart of hearts， what Gellert Grindelwald was？ I think I did， but I closed my eyes. If the plans we were making came to fruition， all my dreams would come true.
    “And at the heart of our schemes， the Deathly Hallows！ How they fascinated him，how they fascinated both of us！ The unbeatable wand， the weapon that would lead us to power！ The Resurrection Stone – to him， though I pretended not to know it， it meant an army of Inferi！ To me， I confess， it meant the return of my parents， and the lifting of all responsibility from my shoulders.
    “And the Cloak . . . somehow， we never discussed the Cloak much， Harry. Both of us could conceal ourselves well enough without the Cloak， the true magic of which， of course， is that it can be used to protect and shield others as well as its owner. I thought that， if we ever found it， it might be useful in hiding Ariana， but our interest in the Cloak was mainly that it completed the trio， for the legend said that the man who had united all three objects would then be truly master of death， which we took to mean ‘invincible.’
    “Invincible masters of death， Grindelwald and Dumbledore！ Two months of insanity， of cruel dreams， and neglect of the only two members of my family left to me.
    “And then . . . you know what happened. Reality returned in the form of my rough，unlettered， and infinitely more admirable brother. I did not want to hear the truths he shouted at me. I did not want to hear that I could not set forth and seek Hallows with a fragile and unstable sister in tow.
    “The argument became a fight. Grindelwald lost control. That which I had always sensed in him， though I pretended not to， now sprang into terrible being. And Ariana . . . after all my mother‘s care and caution . . . lay dead upon the floor.”
    Dumbledore gave a little gasp and began to cry in earnest. Harry reached out and was glad to find that he could touch him： He gripped his arm tightly and Dumbledore gradually regained control.
    “Well， Grindelwald fled， as anyone but I could have predicted. He vanished， with his plans for seizing power， and his schemes for Muggle torture， and his dreams of the Deathly Hallows， dreams in which I had encouraged him and helped him. He ran， while I was left to bury my sister， and learn to live with my guilt and my terrible grief， the price of my shame.
    “Years passed. There were rumors about him. They said he had procured a wand of immense power. I， meanwhile， was offered the post of Minister of Magic， not once，but several times. Naturally， I refused. I had learned that I was not to be trusted with power.”
    “But you‘d have been better， much better， than Fudge or Scimgeour！” burst out Harry.
    “Would I？” asked Dumbledore heavily. “I am not so sure. I had proven， as a very young man， that power was my weakness and my temptation. It is a curious thing， Harry，but perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those who， like you， have leadership thrust upon them， and take up the mantle because they must， and find to their own surprise that they wear it well.
    “I was safer at Hogwarts. I think I was a good teacher –”
    “You were the best ——”
    “—— you are very kind， Harry. But while I busied myself with the training of young wizards， Grindelwald was raising an army. They say he feared me， and perhaps he did， but less， I think， than I feared him.
    “Oh， not death，” said Dumbledore， in answer to Harry‘s questioning look. “Not what he could do to me magically. I knew that we were evenly matched， perhaps that I was a shade more skillful. It was the truth I feared. You see， I never knew which of us， in that last， horrific fight， had actually cast the curse that killed my sister. You may call me cowardly： You would be right， Harry. I dreaded beyond all things the knowledge that it had been I who brought about her death， not merely through my arrogance and stupidity，but that I actually struck the blow that snuffed out her life.
    “I think he knew it， I think he knew what frightened me. I delayed meeting him until finally， it would have been too shameful to resist any longer. People were dying and he seemed unstoppable， and I had to do what I could.
    “Well， you know what happened next. I won the duel. I won the wand.”
    Another silence. Harry did not ask whether Dumbledore had ever found out who struck Ariana dead. He did not want to know， and even less did he want Dumbledore to have to tell him. At last he knew what Dumbledore would have seen when he looked in the mirror of Erised， and why Dumbledore had been so understanding of the fascination it had exercised over Harry.
    They sat in silence for a long time， and the whipmerings of the creature behind them barely disturbed Harry anymore.
    At last he said， “Grindelwald tried to stop Voldemort going after the wand. He lied， you know， pretended he had never had it.”
    Dumbledore nodded， looking down at his lap， tears still glittering on the crooked nose.
    “They say he showed remorse in later years， alone in his cell at Nurmengard. I hope that is true. I would like to think that he did feel the horror and shame of what he had done. Perhaps that lie to Voldemort was his attempt to make amends . . . to prevent Voldemort from taking the Hallow . . .”
    “。 . .or maybe from breaking into your tomb？” suggested Harry， and Dumbledore dabbed his eyes.
    After another short pause Harry said， “You tried to use the Resurrection Stone.”
    Dumbledore nodded.
    “When I discovered it， after all those years， buried in the abandoned home of the Gaunts —— the Hallow I had craved most of all， though in my youth I had wanted it for very different reasons —— I lost my head， Harry. I quite forgot that I was not a Horcrux，that the ring was sure to carry a curse. I picked it up， and I put it on， and for a second I imagined that I was about to see Ariana， and my mother， and my father， and to tell them how very， very sorry， I was. . . .
    “I was such a fool， Harry. After all those years I had learned nothing. I was unworthy to unite the Deathly Hallows， I had proved it time and again， and here was final proof.”
    “Why？” said Harry. “It was natural！ You wanted to see them again. What‘s wrong with that？”
    “Maybe a man in a million could unite the Hallows， Harry. I was fit only to possess the meanest of them， the least extraordinary. I was fit to own the Elder Wand，
    and not boast of it， and not to kill with it. I was permitted to tame and use it， because I took it， not for gain， but to save others from it.
    “But the Cloak， I took out of vain curiousity， and so it could never have worked for me as it works for you， its true owners. The stone I would have used in an attempt to drag back those who are at peace， rather than enable my self-sacrafice， as you did. You are the worthy possessor of the Hallows.”
    Dumbledore patted Harry‘s hand， and Harry looked up at the old man and smiled；he could not help himself. How coul dhe remain angry with Dumbledore now？
    “Why did you have to make it so difficult？”
    Dumbledore‘s smile was tremulous.
    “I am afraid I counted on Miss Granger to slow you up， Harry. I was afraid that your hot head might dominate your good heart. I was scared that， if presented outright with the facts about those tempting objects， you might seize the Hallows as I did， at the wrong time， for the wrong reasons. If you laid hands on them， I wanted you to possess them safely. You are the true master of death， because the true master does not seek to run away from Death. He accepts that he must die， and understands that there are far， far worse things in the living world than dying.”
    “And Voldemort never knew about the Hallows？”
    “I do not think so， because he did not recognize the Resurrection Stone he turned into a Horcrux. But even if he had known about them， Harry. I doubt that he woul dhave been interested in any except the first. He would not think that he needed the Cloak， and as for the stone， whom would he want to bring back from the dead？ He fears the dead. He does not love.”
    “But you expected him to go after the wand？”
    “I have been sure that he would try， ever since your wand beat Voldemort‘s in the graveyard of Little Hangleton. At first， he was afraid that you had conquered him by superior skill. Once he had kidnapped Ollivander， however， he discovered the existence of the twin cores. He thought that explained everything. Yet the borrowed wand did no better against yours！ So Voldemort， instead of asking himself what quality it was in you that had made your wand so strong， what gift you possessed that he did not， naturally set out to find the one wand that， they said， would beat any other. For him， the Elder Wand has become an obsession to rival his obsession with you. He believes that the Elder Wand removes his last weakness and makes him truly invincible. Poor Severus . . .”
    “If you planned your death with Snape， you meant him to end up with the Elder Wand， didn‘t you？”
    “I admit that was my intention，” said Dumbledore， “but it did not work as I intended， did it？”
    “No，” said Harry. “That bit didn‘t work out.”
    The creature behind them jerked and moaned， and Harry and Dumbledore sate without talking for the longest time yet. The realization of what would happen next settled gradually over Harry in the long minutes， like softly falling snow.
    “I‘ve got to go back， haven’t I？”
    “That is up to you.”
    “I‘ve got a choice？”
    “Oh yes，” Dumbledore smiled at him. “We are in King‘s Cross you say？ I think that if you decided not to go back， you would be able to . . . let’s say . . . board a train.”
    “And where would it take me？”
    “On，” said Dumbledore simply.
    Silence again.
    “Voldemort‘s got the Elder Wand.”
    “True. Voldemort has the Elder Wand.”
    “But you want me to go back？”
    “I think，” said Dumbledore， “that if you choose to return， there is a chance that he may be finished for good. I cannot promise it. But I know this， Harry， that you have less to fear from returning here than he does.”
    Harry glanced again at the raw looking thing that trembled and choked in the shadow beneath the distant chair.
    “Do not pity the dead， Harry. Pity the living， and above all， those who live without love. By returning， you may ensure that fewer souls are maimed， fewer families are torn apart. If that seems to you a worthy goal， they we saw good-bye for the present.”
    Harry nodded and sighed. Leaving this place would not be nearly as hard as walking into the forest had been， but it was warm and light and peaceful here， and he knew that he was heading back to pain and the fear of more loss. He stood up， and Dumbledore did the same， and they looked for a long moment into each other‘s faces.
    “Tell me one last thing，” said Harry， “Is this real？ Or has this been happening inside my head？”
    Dumbledore beamed at him， and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry‘s ears even though the bright mist was descending again， obscuring his figure.
    “Of course it is happening inside your head， Harry， but why on earth should that mean it is not real？”

　　他趴在地上，想在这一片寂静中听见哪怕一点点的声音。但他确实是一个人。没有人在监视他，也没有其他的任何人在这儿。甚至他自己都无法完全肯定他是不是在这儿。

　　很长一段时间过去了，不过可能也只是一会儿的工夫，一个想法出现在他的脑海里：他必须活下去。这个想法比任何别的想法都实在，因为他躺着，实实在在地躺着，在某个未知的平面上，他还有触觉，而他躺在上面的那个东西也是实实在在地存在着的。

　　几乎在他下定结论的同时，哈利意识到他是赤裸着的。但是由于完全确信了这里只有他一个人，所以这对于他来说就无所谓了，这并没有激起他的一点兴趣。他只想知道，既然他有触觉，那他是不是应该还有视觉呢，在他睁开眼睛的时候，哈利发现自己还看得见。

　　哈利躺在一片迷雾中，一片与他以前从未见过的与众不同的迷雾。他周围的环境并没有被雾气遮掩，更恰当地说是那些雾气还没来得急去形成他周围的景物。他躺在上面的地板似乎一片空白，只是一个简单的能承载东西的平面。

　　他坐了起来，他的身上没有伤口，他摸了摸自己的脸，他根本没有戴眼镜。

　　一阵噪音通过他周围这些无形的虚无传到了他的耳边。那是一个什么东西挣扎着拍打带着枷锁的翅膀的声音，那是一个令人感到同情的声音，同时也令人不安。他有一种很不舒服的感觉，好像他在鬼鬼祟祟地偷听一样，有些可耻。

　　这时，他希望他是穿着衣服的。还没等这个想法在他的脑中更清晰一些，不远处就出现了一件礼袍。他拿起它并穿在了身上，这件礼袍柔软，干净又温暖。但奇特的是为什么它会在他想要的时候就立刻出现了呢……

　　他站起身，看了看四周。他是不是在有求必应屋里?他越往远看，看见的东西就越多。他的头顶上是一个在阳光下闪闪发亮的玻璃半球形屋顶，也许这里是一个宫殿。一切都是寂静的，除了那些从离迷雾不远处的某个地方传来的哀号声……

　　哈利开始慢慢地感觉到了不安，周围的事物开始在他眼前出现。一个宽敞的空间，明亮而干净，比学校的礼堂还大的大厅，以及一个闪亮的半球形天花板，这里十分空荡，只有他一个人，除了——

　　他后退了一步，他看见了发出那个声音的东西，它的形状看起来像一个裸体的婴儿，它蜷缩在地板上，皮肤很粗糙，好像被剥了皮，它躺在一个凳子下面，不知为什么好像被憋住了一般，吃力地喘着气。

　　他害怕它，尽管它只是一个很小很脆弱，像受伤的婴儿一样的东西，他还是不想靠近它。然而他还是慢慢地向它走去，并随时准备着转身跑回来。很快地，他已经近到可以碰到它了，但是他还是不敢这么做，他觉得自己很懦弱。他应该去安慰它为它减轻痛苦，即使它憎恶地排斥着他。

　　“你帮不了它。”

　　当他在它周围转来转去的时候，邓布利多向他走来，脚步轻快而挺拔，他身穿着一件破旧的深蓝色长袍。

　　“哈利。”他张开手臂，他的双手都是白皙而完整的。“你是一个很棒的小伙子，你很勇敢，是一个勇敢的人，来，我们一起走。”

　　哈利吃惊地跟着邓布利多大步离开了那哀号的无皮婴儿。前面有两把椅子，但哈利之前并没有注意到它们，它们被放置在不远处的又高又亮的天花板下面。邓布利多在一把椅子上坐下，而哈利坐进了另一把椅子，他愣愣地盯着自己以前的校长的脸庞。邓布利多银色的长发和胡须，半月眼镜后面的睿智的蓝眼睛，还有鹰钩鼻:一切都同他记忆中的一模一样，但是……

　　“但是你已经死了。”哈利说。

　　“哦，是的。”邓布利多实事求是地说。

　　“那么……我也死了?”

　　“啊。"邓布利多安静地微笑着说，"这倒是个问题，不是吗?”

　　“基本上说，我亲爱的孩子，我认为没有。”

　　“没有?”哈利重复道。

　　“没有。”邓布利多说。

　　“但是……”哈利本能地把手伸向了他的闪电形伤疤，它好像不在了，“但是我一定是死了——我并没有保护我自己，我愚蠢地让他杀了我！”

　　“我想那，”邓布利多说，“一定就是问题的关键。”

　　快乐像灯光，像火焰一般从邓布利多的身上散发出来:哈利从来没见过这个男人如此彻底地满足。

　　“请解释一下吧。”哈利说。

　　“但是你已经知道了。”邓布利多无聊地玩着手指。

　　“我让他杀了我，”哈利说，“不是吗?”

　　“是的，”邓布利多点了点头，“继续说。”

　　“所以说，那部分在我的体内的灵魂……”

　　邓布利多更加狂热地点了点头，脸上绽开了灿烂的笑容。

　　“那它被毁掉了吗?”

　　“哦，是的！”邓布利多说，“他亲手毁掉了它，而现在你的灵魂是完整的，完全是你自己的，哈利。”

　　哈利颤抖着肩膀向他们身后那个在凳子底下躺着的受了伤还在发抖的生物望去。

　　“那是什么，教授?”

　　“我们谁也帮不上忙的东西罢了。”邓布利多说。

　　“但是如果伏地魔使用了死咒，”哈利重新开口说，“而这次没有人为了保护我而死去——那我是怎么活下来的呢?”

　　“我认为你是知道的，”邓布利多说。“你往回想，回忆，在他的无知，他的贪婪和他的残酷的驱使下，他都做了什么。”

　　哈利拼命地思考，用眼睛扫视周围的一切，如果他们真的坐在一个宫殿里，那这也是一个临时的宫殿，凳子杂乱地排列着，到处都是栏杆，而他，邓布利多和那个小东西仍然是这里唯一的生物，答案很容易地就跑到了嘴边，不费吹灰之力。

　　“他用了我的血。”哈利说。

　　“完全正确！”邓布利多说，“他用了你的血去重获他的肉身，你的血成了他身体的组成部分，哈利，莉莉的保护魔咒在你们俩的身上同时起作用。导致了只要他活着，你就会活着！”

　　“他活着……我就活着?但是我还以为……我有着完全相反的想法！我以为我们会同归于尽，那这是一回事吗?”

　　他被他们身后的那个生物痛苦的呜咽声搅得心烦意乱，不断地回头去看。

　　“你确定我们真的不能为它做点什么吗?”

　　“不可能有办法帮它。”

　　“那么……就请再接着解释。”哈利说。邓布利多微笑着。

　　“你是第七个魂器，哈利，一个他从来没想过要制作的魂器，他使他的灵魂变得极度不稳定，以至于当他做出杀死你的父母，还企图要杀死小孩子的邪恶行为时，灵魂就自动分裂了出来。但是从那间屋子里逃出来时，他绝对不知道他留下的不只是他的身体，他还使他的一部分灵魂和你——谋杀的幸存者——锁在了一起。

　　“但是他知道的东西一直都少得可怜，哈利，这是伏地魔最没用的地方，他从来不费神去理解去领会，关于家养小精灵与孩子们的故事，关于爱，关于忠诚和清白，伏地魔不理解也不知道这些，什么也不知道。而这些东西所拥有的力量是远远超过他的，是任何魔法都无法匹敌的，这是一个他永远也理解不了的事实。

　　“他以为他用了你的血就可以使他强大起来，他把你母亲的一小部分魔法也带进了他的体内。她的爱也留存在了他的体内，所以你是伏地魔最后的寄托。”

　　邓布利多微笑着看着哈利，而哈利则盯着他。

　　“那你知道这些?你……一直都知道?”

　　“我猜的，但是我的猜测通常是对的。”邓布利多欢快地说。

　　他们似乎静静地坐了好久，直到他们身后的那个生物开始继续呜咽和颤抖。

　　“还有，”哈利说，“还有一个问题，为什么我的魔杖毁坏了他借来的魔杖?”

　　“这个，我也不太清楚。”

　　“那你就猜一下。”哈利说。邓布利多笑了几声。

　　“你必须要知道的，哈利，就是你和伏地魔已经共同进入了一个未知的魔法领域。我也只能推测一下是怎么回事，毕竟这是从来没出现过的情况，没有一个魔杖制造师能预料得到这种情况或是，向伏地魔解释清楚前因后果。

　　“你现在知道了，伏地魔恢复肉身时无意间使你们两人之间的联系加强了，他的一部分灵魂仍然依赖于你，而为了使自己更强大，他吸收了一部分你母亲的爱。如果他知道这种爱的无比强大的可怕力量的话，我想他是不敢去碰你的血的……不过，如果他早就知道的话，那他就不会做伏地魔了，更不会杀死那么多人了。

　　“确认了这种互相的联系，也就确认了你们两人的命运是空前地紧密相连的，伏地魔用一根和你的魔杖杖心相连的魔杖去攻击了你。结果奇怪的事情发生了，两根魔杖的杖心稍稍起了反应，伏地魔怎么也想不到他的魔杖和你的魔杖是兄弟，这是他从未预料到的。

　　“其实那天晚上他比你还要担心害怕，哈利，你面对甚至接受了可能到来的死亡，这是伏地魔他永远也做不到的，你在精神上和勇气上获胜了，你的魔杖压制住了他的，而这时，两个魔杖间出现了反应，这正显示出了它们主人之间的联系。

　　“我认为那天晚上你的魔杖从他的魔杖中吸收了一部分魔法，甚至包含一部分伏地魔自己的力量。所以在他追击你的时候你的魔杖认出了他，认出了这个既是兄弟又是死敌的人，于是你的魔杖反涌出了一些伏地魔自己的力量来攻击他，卢修斯的魔杖从来没承受过如此强大的力量。现在你的魔杖包含着你的巨大的勇气和伏地魔致命的力量:卢修斯的破魔杖怎么可能挺得住呢?”

　　“那既然我的魔杖有如此强大的力量，那为什么赫敏还能把它弄坏呢?”哈利问。

　　“我亲爱的孩子，它的不寻常的力量只是针对伏地魔的，伏地魔他对魔法的规则是如此地无知，只有对他，魔杖才显示出不寻常的力量，换句话说，这时你的魔杖几乎就和拥有极其强大力量的魔杖一样了，我确信。”邓布利多温和地结束了这番话。

　　哈利坐在那儿想了好久，或者可能也就是几秒，在这种地方很难感觉到“时间”。

　　“他用你的魔杖杀了我。”

　　“他打算要用我的魔杖杀你，但他失败了。”邓布利多纠正哈利说。“我想我们可以确定你没有死——当然，”他加上一句，似乎是怕有些失礼，“我不是在说你没有受难，我确定你受的折磨已经够多了。”

　　“尽管这样，但我此时此刻感觉很好。”哈利说，一边低头看他那干净无疵的手。“那么，我们到底在哪里?”

　　"哦，我正想问你这个问题，"邓布利多环顾周围，说，“你认为我们这是在那儿?”

　　在邓布利多问之前，哈利还不知道，但是现在，他发现自己已经有了答案。

　　“看起来，”他慢慢地说，“好像是国王十字车站。但是这里空空的，连清洁工也没有，而且在我看来，这里也没有火车。”"

　　“国王十字车站！”邓布利多毫不掩饰地咯咯笑了起来。“多么美好，是真的吗?”

　　“好吧，那你说我们这是在哪里？”哈利心怀戒备地说。

　　“亲爱的波特，我根本不知道。但据他们说，这是你的派对。”

　　哈利不明白这是什么意思。邓布利多让他恼怒了。哈利对他怒目而视，然后他想起有比他们当前处境中的问题更紧急的事情。

　　“死圣，”他说，满意地看到邓布利多脸上的微笑随着他的话消失了。

　　“啊，是的。”他说。他看上去甚至有些焦虑。“怎么了？”

　　从哈利第一次见到邓布利多起，他就从来没像现在这样如此的不像一个老人，一点都不像。他看起来就像一个被抓住做错事的顽皮男孩。

　　“你会原谅我么？”他说，“你会原谅我对你不信任么？原谅我没有把一切告诉你？哈利，我只是害怕你会像我一样失败。我只是害怕你会犯和我一样的错误。我希望你能原谅我，哈利。我知道，很久以来我就知道，你是一个优秀的男子汉。”

　　“你要说什么？”哈利问，被邓布利多的音调镇住了，还有他的眼睛里突然冒出的泪水。

　　“死圣，死圣，”邓布利多咕哝说，“一个绝望男人的梦想！”

　　“但是它们是真实存在的！”

　　“是真实存在的，而且是危险的，还引来了一大群傻瓜。”邓布利多说，“我就是一个这么愚蠢的人。但是你是知道的，不是吗？我对你再也没有什么秘密了，你知道的。”

　　“我知道什么？”

　　邓布利多将他整个身子转过来朝向哈利，眼泪在他的明亮的蓝眼睛里闪闪发光。

　　“死亡之杖，哈利，死亡之杖！从根本上说，与伏地魔相比，我要好一些吗？”

　　“你当然比他好，”哈利说，“当然——你问这个干什么？你从来都尽可能避免杀人。”

　　“是的，是的，”邓布利多说，他就像一个寻找定心丸的孩子，“然而，我也曾经寻求过征服死亡的方法，哈利”

　　“不是他那种方法。”哈利说。毕竟他开始对邓布利多生气了，但是他所能做的只是在高高的拱形的天花板下坐下来，听着邓布利多为自己辩护。

　　“是死圣，不是魂器。”

　　“是死圣，”邓布利多嘀咕着，“不是魂器，真的。”

　　接下来是一阵沉默。他们后面的生物发出呜咽声，但哈利不再去注意它了。

　　“格林德沃也在找它们？”他问。

　　邓布利多闭了一会眼睛，点了点头。

　　“那件事，是最最重要的，使我们走到一起。”邓布利多安静地说，“两个聪明而自负的男孩子共同的向往。他想要去高锥克山谷——我可以肯定你已经猜到了——是因为伊格诺思?佩弗利尔的坟墓。他想要探访第三个弟弟死去的地方。”

　　“这么说那个故事是真的？”哈利说，“全都是真的？佩弗利尔三兄弟——”

　　“——正是故事里的三兄弟。”邓布利多点了点头，“哦，是的，我是这样想的。无论他们是否在一条孤单的小路上遇到了死神……我觉得更有可能的是佩弗利尔兄弟只是很有天赋的懂黑魔法的巫师，他们成功地制作出了那些威力强大的魔法物件。那个他们最后成为死神的圣徒的故事，对我而言是可以让我兴奋得跳起来的传说。

　　“那件斗篷，正如你所知，随着时间流传下来，从父亲到儿子，母亲到女儿，一直流传到伊格诺思的最后一批后代，就像伊格诺思一样在高锥克山谷出生的人。”

　　邓布利多向哈利微笑着。

　　“我？”

　　“你。你猜得很对。我知道，为什么斗篷在你父母死去的时候会属于我，詹姆在那之前的几天展示给我看过。这样就解释了为什么他在学校里做了那么多违纪的事却没有被发现。我几乎不能相信我所看到的。我借走了它，想要研究一下。自从我放弃集齐死圣已经有很长时间了，但是我也忍不住，我忍不住想要好好看看……它是我从未见过的斗篷，非常旧，但在各个方面都很完美……然后你的父亲死去了，我最终有了两件死圣，完全属于我！”

　　他的声音忍不住露出痛苦之意。

　　“但斗篷也不会帮助他们活下来，”哈利很快地说，“伏地魔知道了我的父母在哪里。而斗篷并不能抵抗咒语。”

　　“是的，”邓布利多叹着气说，“是的。”哈利等着，但是邓布利多不再说话，所以哈利开始提示他。

　　“所以当你见到斗篷时就放弃了寻找死圣？”

　　“哦，是的。”邓布利多微弱地说。看上去他是强迫自己面对着哈利的眼睛。“你知道发生了什么，你知道的。不过你不会比我更轻视我自己。”

　　“可我没有轻视你。”

　　“以后你会的。”邓布利多说。他深深地呼吸，“你知道我的妹妹得病的秘密，那是麻瓜干的，让她变成了那个样子。你知道我可怜的父亲是如何寻找他们报仇，如何被判了刑，如何在阿兹卡班死去的。你也知道我的妈妈用尽一生来照顾阿瑞娜。

　　“我憎恨这一切，哈利。”

　　邓布利多坦率而冷淡的说了这一切。他的目光越过哈利的头顶，看向远方。

　　“我是极有天赋的，我是才华横溢的。我想要逃离。我想要出人头地。我想要得到荣誉。

　　“别误解我，”他说，痛苦在他的脸上显现，使他看上去又变回了老人，“我爱他们，我爱我的父母，我爱我的弟弟妹妹。但是我是自私的，哈利，比你——一个非常无私的人——能够想象得到的要自私得多。

　　“所以，在我的母亲死去后，我承担起了照顾有病的妹妹和任性的弟弟的职责，我既愤怒又悲痛地回到了我的村庄。我想这使我陷入困境而且浪费了我的时间。就在这个时候，他来了……”

　　邓布利多再次直视着哈利的双眼。

　　“格林德沃。你简直无法想象他的想法是怎样吸引了我，哈利，让我着迷。麻瓜被我们用武力强迫去做一些对我们有用的事。我们巫师胜利了。格林德沃和我，成了两个年轻的光荣领袖。

　　“哦，我还是有顾虑的。但我用空洞的语言抚慰我的良心。一切都会变好的，任何伤害麻瓜的行为都会带给巫师无数好处。在我内心深处，我会不知道格林德沃是个什么样的人吗？我想我知道，但是我闭上双眼，不去理睬。如果我们的计划实现了，我所有的梦想都会成真。

　　“而且在我们计划的核心，就是死圣！它们令他那么着迷，它们令我们俩那么着迷！那个无懈可击的魔杖可以引导我们拥有极端的力量！那块回魂石对他而言——虽然在他面前我假装我不知道——是一支阴尸军队，而对我而言，我承认，那意味着我父母的重生，我肩负着重大的使命

　　“至于斗篷……不知道为什么，我们从来没有过多的讨论过斗篷，哈利。我们两个可以不借助斗篷而很好的隐藏自己，依靠魔法，当然，是那种你可以保护主人和遮挡其他人的魔法。我想，如果我们找到了它，可能会对藏起阿瑞娜很管用。但是我们对斗篷的最主要的兴趣在于它是那三样东西的组成部分，传说中人只有得到所有三样东西才能征服死亡，那个被我们认定为是不可能被征服的东西。

　　“无敌的死神！格林德沃和邓布利多！癫狂的两个月，噩梦般的两个月，使我疏忽了遗留下来的我的两个家庭成员。

　　“然后，你就知道发生什么了。我的粗鲁的、无知的却更值得敬佩的弟弟告诉我妹妹病重。我不想听到他吵着告诉我妹妹的事，我不想听到自己因为一个多病而娇弱的妹妹而无法出行去寻找死圣。

　　“争执演变成了斗殴。格林德沃失去了控制。我从一开始就知道他是这样的人，但是我假装我不知道，结果他暴露出了他凶残的一面，而阿瑞娜……尽管她曾受到我母亲的细心呵护……但此刻她还是不可避免地躺在地上死去了。”

　　邓布利多发出了一阵气喘声，留下真挚的眼泪。哈利伸出手，很高兴地发现他可以碰触到邓布利多。他紧紧地抓住的邓布利多的胳膊，让他渐渐地平静下来。

　　“然后，格林德沃逃跑了，除了我以外没有人想到他会离开。他消失了，带着他争权夺势的计划，折磨麻瓜的阴谋，以及对死圣的梦想——我曾经鼓励他帮助他实现的梦想。他逃走了，而我留下来将妹妹下葬，并学着在内疚和沉重的哀痛里生活。那是我人生中最可耻的一笔。

　　“年复一年，关于他的传闻很多。人们说他获得了一根拥有无限力量的魔杖。在此期间，我不只一次被邀请担任魔法部长。自然的，我拒绝了，我知道我并不适合执掌权力……”

　　“但你比福吉和斯克林杰强多了！”哈利大声喊出来。

　　“是吗？”邓布利多沉重的问“我可不那么确定。当我是一个年轻人时，我曾证明，权力虽然对我有诱惑力，但那却是我的弱点。这是很奇怪的，哈利，不过也许最适合掌权的人正是那些从未刻意去追求过它的人。那些像你一样的人，当有领导任务强加在他们身上时，他们只好穿上制服，因为他们不得不这样做，然后他们便惊奇地发现他们能够做得很好。我在霍格沃茨会更安全。而且我认为我是一个不错的教授——”

　　“您是最棒的！”

　　“你很善良，哈利。但正当我忙于训练年轻巫师的时候，格林德沃建立起了一个军队。人们说他很害怕我，但也许，和他害怕我比起来，我更惧怕他。

　　“哦，不是怕死。”邓布利多说，回答了哈利脸上的疑问。“不是怕他可能会对我施的魔法，我们是势均力敌的——也许我还更胜一筹。我害怕的是事情的真相。听我说，我永远也不知道在那个令人毛骨耸然的夜里，到底是谁最后发射咒语杀死了我的妹妹。你也许会说我胆怯，你是对的，哈利，我最害怕的是我一直认为阿瑞娜是因我而死，不仅因为我的傲慢和愚蠢，更是因为我，带来那场使阿瑞娜死亡的争斗的我啊！

　　“我认为他知道，我认为他知道是什么使我恐惧，我一直拒绝与他会面，直到再拒绝就太不体面了。人总有一死，但他的死亡看来已经无法避免，而我只好做一些我不得不做的事情。

　　“然后，你知道发生了什么，我赢了那场决斗，赢得了那根魔杖。”

　　又一阵静默。哈利没有问邓布利多是否查明了杀死阿瑞娜的到底是谁。他不想知道，也没打算让邓布利多会告诉他。他终于知道了当邓布利多朝厄里斯魔镜中看去的时候他会看见什么，也明白了为什么邓布利多会那么理解哈利对厄里斯魔镜的着迷。

　　他们静静地坐了很久，他们身后那个生物的呜咽声已经不再能打扰哈利了。

　　最后哈利说，“格林德沃尽力阻止了伏地魔去追寻那根魔杖。他说了谎，你知道的，他对伏地魔谎称自己从来都没有过那根魔杖。”

　　邓布利多点了点头，低头看着他自己的膝盖，弯弯的鹰钩鼻上依然闪着泪光。

　　“他们说他在之后的几年里显示出了自责，他独自待在努尔蒙德的地下室里，我希望这是真的，我情愿相信他为了他所做的一切感到恐惧和懊悔，也许对伏地魔说谎就是他在企图弥补他的过错……防止伏地魔拿走死圣。”

　　“也许也是防止他入侵你的坟墓?”哈利提出，邓布利多轻轻地眨了眨眼。

　　在又一次的短暂静默之后，哈利说，“你曾经试着用过回魂石。”

　　邓布利多点了点头。

　　“当我终于在冈特老宅找到已被埋葬多年的回魂石——那个我最渴望得到的死圣，尽管我年轻的时候想要它是出于另一个完全不同的目的——时，我失去了理智，哈利。我完全忘记了那是一个魂器，忘记了那个戒指一定带着诅咒。我只是拿起它并把它戴上，那一刻我想象着我就要见到阿瑞娜，见到我的母亲和父亲了，然后告诉他们我非常抱歉，非常对不起他们—

　　“我就是这样一个傻瓜，哈利。这么多年来我什么也没学到。我没有资格去集齐死圣，这已被反反复复地证实过，而那是最后一次。”

　　“为什么?”哈利说，“那是人之常情，你希望可以再见他们一面，有什么错吗?”

　　“也许一百万个人里才可能有一个人有资格集齐，哈利。而我只配得到它们中最低劣，最不起眼的，我只配得到长老魔杖，而且不能借此自夸，更不能用它杀人。而且这个对我来说也不是极其适合的。我被允许去驯服和使用它，因为我不是为了获得财富，而是想凭借它去帮助别人。

　　“但是那件斗篷，我白白对它好奇了那么久，显然它不可能对我像对你一样那么听话，你才是它真正的主人。至于那块石头，我一直尽力想用它让人起死回生，而不是像你一样自我牺牲。你是最适合拥有死圣的人。

　　邓布利多轻轻地拍了拍哈利的手，哈利抬起头望着这个老人，脸上露出了笑容。他控制不了自己，可他现在怎么可能还生邓布利多的气呢?

　　“你为什么把它弄得这么复杂?”

　　邓布利多的笑容颤了一下。

　　“我想依靠格兰杰小姐使你放慢速度，我怕你头脑发热，不理智占据了的美好心灵，我怕如果那些诱人的魔法物件直接出现在你眼前，你也会像我一样在错误的时间，因为一些错误的理由去夺取这些死圣。当你拥有它们时，我希望你是清醒的。你是真正能征服死亡的人，因为能真正征服死亡的人是从来不会试图去寻找逃避死亡的方法的，他接受了他一定会死的事实，而且他明白，在世界上有远比死亡更糟糕的事情。”

　　“伏地魔从来都不知道死圣吗?”

　　“我认为是的，因为他并没有认出回魂石而直接把它做成了魂器。但即使他知道它们，哈利，我也怀疑他是否会感兴趣。他不会认为他需要那个斗篷，至于那块石头，他会想让谁复活呢?他怕死，而他不会爱。”

　　“但是你料到了他会追寻那根魔杖?”

　　“我肯定他会去试试，自从你的魔杖在小汉顿村的墓地里打败他的魔杖。开始，他还以为你是用出众的技术打败了他。但自从那次他绑架了奥利凡德，他就发现了两根魔杖的杖心之间的联系。他认为这就解释了一切。但那个借来的魔杖并不能更好的和你抗衡。所以伏地魔没有去思考你是怎样让你的魔杖变得如此强大，你到底是有哪种他所没有的才能，而是很自然的去寻找他们所谓的一种所向无敌的魔杖。对他来说，长老魔杖就是他认为的可以挫败你的东西，他确信长老魔杖可以填补他唯一的弱点，使他所向披靡。可怜的西弗勒斯……”

　　“如果你的死亡是你和斯内普计划好了的，那么你是想让他和长老魔杖一起完蛋，是吗？

　　“我承认那是我的目的”邓布利多说“但它没有和我预想的一样发生，不是吗？

　　“是啊”哈利说“并没有起作用。”

　　他们身后的生物不停地呜咽和抽筋。哈利和邓布利多已经很久没有再说话。接下来会发生的事情在哈利的脑中逐渐清晰，就好像轻轻飘落的雪花。

　　“我该回去了，是不是?”

　　“你自己决定。"

　　"我有其他的选择吗?"

　　“哦，是的”邓布利多笑着说“你不是说我们在国王十字车站嘛？如果你不想回去，你也许可以…让我们想想…坐火车！”

　　“它会带我去哪里？”

　　“带你继续走下去。”邓布利多简单的说。

　　沉默再次将他们包围。

　　“伏地魔已经得到了长老魔杖”

　　“是的。伏地魔得到了长老魔杖。”

　　“但是你想让我回去？”

　　“我认为，”邓布利多说，“如果你选择回去，就会有机会让他彻底失败。我不敢保证。但是我知道，哈利，对于你回去这件事，他比你更害怕。”

　　哈利又看了一眼那看上去像被剥了皮的东西，它正在不远处冷冰冰的椅子下的阴影中颤抖着喘不过来气来。

　　“不要怜悯死者，哈利。要同情那些活着的人，更要同情那些生活中没有爱的人。话又说回来，你可能会使更多的灵魂免于受到伤害，使更多的家庭免于妻离子散。如果这对你来说是一个有价值的目标的话，那么，我们就要暂时分开了。”

　　哈利点点头，叹了一口气。离开这里远不如当初走进禁林那么艰难，但是，这个地方是这样的温暖明亮和宁静的，而他知道他回去就要面对痛苦，恐惧和更多的失去。他站起身来，邓布利多也这样做了，他们互相凝望了很长时间。

　　“告诉我最后一件事，”哈利说，“这是真的吗？或者这只是我的头脑中的想象？”

　　邓布利多看向他，他的声音在哈利的耳朵里显得如此明朗有力，尽管明亮的雾再次暗了下来，模糊了他的身影。“这当然是出现在你头脑中的，哈利，可这真的就能说明这是虚假的吗？”

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Chapter 34 The Forest Again
Finally, the truth. Lying with his face pressed into the dusty carpet of the office where he had once thought he was learning the secrets of victory, Harry understood at last that he was not supposed to survive. His job was to walk calmly into Death’s welcoming arms. Along the way, he was to dispose of Voldemort’s remaining links to life, so that when at last he flung himself across Voldemort’s path, and did not raise a wand to defend himself, the end would be clean, and the job that ought to have been done in Godric’s Hollow would be finished. Neither would live, neither could survive.
He felt his heart pounding fiercely in his chest. How strange that in his dread of death, it pumped all the harder, valiantly keeping him alive. But it would have to stop, and soon. Its beats were numbered. How many would there be time for, as he rose and walked through the castle for the last time, out into the grounds and into the forest?
Terror washed over him as he lay on the floor, with that funeral drum pounding inside him. Would it hurt to die? All those times he had thought that it was about to happen and escaped, he had never really thought of the thing itself: His will to live had always been so much stronger than his fear of death. Yet it did not occur to him now to try to escape, to outrun Voldemort. It was over, he knew it, and all that was left was the thing itself: dying.
If he could only have died on that summer’s night when he had left number four, Privet Drive, for the last time, when the noble phoenix feather wand had saved him! If he could only have died like Hedwig, so quickly he would not have known it had happened! Or if he could have launched himself in front of a wand to save someone he loved… He envied even his parents’ deaths now. This cold-blooded walk to his own destruction would require a different kind of bravery. He felt his fingers trembling slightly and made an effort to control them, although no one could see him; the portraits on the walls were all empty.
Slowly, very slowly, he sat up, and as he did so he felt more alive and more aware of his own living body than ever before. Why had he never appreciated what a miracle he was, brain and nerve and bounding heart? It would all be gone… or at least, he would be gone from it. His breath came slow and deep, and his mouth and throat were completely dry, but so were his eyes.
Dumbledore’s betrayal was almost nothing. Of course there had been a bigger plan: Harry had simply been too foolish to see it, he realized that now. He had never questioned his own assumption that Dumbledore wanted him alive. Now he saw that his life span had always been determined by how long it took to eliminate all the Horcruxes. Dumbledore had passed the job of destroying them to him, and obediently he had continued to chip away at the bonds tying not only Voldemort, but himself, to life! How neat, how elegant, not to waste any more lives, but to give the dangerous task to the boy who had already been marked for slaughter, and whose death would not be a calamity, but another blow against Voldemort.
And Dumbledore had known that Harry would not duck out, that he would keep going to the end, even though it was his end, because he had taken trouble to get to know him, hadn’t he? Dumbledore knew, as Voldemort knew, that Harry would not let anyone else die for him now that he had discovered it was in his power to stop it. The images of Fred, Lupin, and Tonks lying dead in the Great Hall forced their way back into his mind’s eye, and for a moment he could hardly breathe. Death was impatient…
But Dumbledore had overestimated him. He had failed: The snake survived. One Horcrux remained to bind Voldemort to the earth, even after Harry had been killed. True, that would mean an easier job for somebody. He wondered who would do it… Ron and Hermione would know what needed to be done, of course… That would have been why Dumbledore wanted him to confide in two others… so that if he fulfilled his true destiny a little early, they could carry on…
Like rain on a cold window, these thoughts pattered against the hard surface of the incontrovertible truth, which was that he must die. I must die. It must end.
Ron and Hermione seemed a long way away, in a far-off country; he felt as though he had parted from them long ago. There would be no good-byes and no explanations, he was determined of that. This was a journey they could not take together, and the attempts they would make to stop him would waste valuable time. He looked down at the battered gold watch he had received on his seventeenth birthday. Nearly half of the hour allotted by Voldemort for his surrender had elapsed.
He stood up. His heart was leaping against his ribs like a frantic bird. Perhaps it knew it had little time left, perhaps it was determined to fulfill a lifetime’s beats before the end. He did not look back as he closed the office door.
The castle was empty. He felt ghostly striding through it alone, as if he had already died. The portrait people were still missing from their frames; the whole place was eerily still, as if all its remaining lifeblood were concentrated in the Great Hall where the dead and the mourners were crammed.
Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak over himself and descended through the floors, at last walking down the marble staircase into the entrance hall. Perhaps some tiny part of him hoped to be sensed, to be seen, to be stopped, but the Cloak was, as ever, impenetrable, perfect, and he reached the front doors easily.
Then Neville nearly walked into him. He was one half of a pair that was carrying a body in from the grounds. Harry glanced down and felt another dull blow to his stomach: Colon Creevey, though underage, must have sneaked back just as Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had done. He was tiny in death.
“You know what? I can manage him alone, Neville,” said Oliver Wood, and he heaved Colin over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift and carried him into the Great Hall.
Neville leaned against the door frame for a moment and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He looked like an old man. Then he set off on the steps again into the darkness to recover more bodies.
Harry took one glance back at the entrance of the Great Hall. People were moving around, trying to comfort each other, drinking, kneeling beside the dead, but he could not see any of the people he loved, no hint of Hermione, Ron, Ginny, or any of the other Weasleys, no Luna. He felt he would have given all the time remaining to him for just one last look at them; but then, would he ever have the strength to stop looking? It was better like this.
He moved down the steps and out into the darkness. It was nearly four in the morning, and the deathly stillness of the grounds felt as though they were holding their breath, waiting to see whether he could do what he must.
Harry moved toward Neville, who was bending over another body.
“Neville.”
“Blimey, Harry, you nearly gave me heart failure!”
Harry had pulled off the Cloak: The idea had come to him out of nowhere, born out of a desire to make absolutely sure.
“Where are you going, alone?” Neville asked suspiciously.
“It’s all part of the plan,” said Harry. “There’s something I’ve got to do. Listen –Neville –”
“Harry!” Neville looked suddenly scared. “Harry, you’re not thinking of handing yourself over?”
“No,” Harry lied easily. “‘Course not… this is something else. But I might be out of sight for a while. You know Voldemort’s snake. Neville? He’s got a huge snake… Calls it Nagini…”
“I’ve heard, yeah… What about it?”
“It’s got to be killed. Ron and Hermione know that, but just in case they –”
The awfulness of that possibility smothered him for a moment, made it impossible to keep talking. But he pulled himself together again: This was crucial, he must be like Dumbledore, keep a cool head, make sure there were backups, others to carry on. Dumbledore had died knowing that three people still knew about the Horcruxes; now Neville would take Harry’s place: There would still be three in the secret.
“Just in case they’re – busy – and you get the chance –”
“Kill the snake?”
“Kill the snake,” Harry repeated.
“All right, Harry. You’re okay, are you?”
“I’m fine. Thanks, Neville.”
But Neville seized his wrist as Harry made to move on.
“We’re all going to keep fighting, Harry. You know that?”
“Yeah, I –”
The suffocating feeling extinguished the end of the sentence; he could not go on. Neville did not seem to find it strange. He patted Harry on the shoulder, released him, and walked away to look for more bodies.
Harry swung the Cloak back over himself and walked on. Someone else was moving not far away, stooping over another prone figure on the ground. He was feet away from her when he realized it was Ginny.
He stopped in his tracks. She was crouching over a girl who was whispering for her mother.
“It’s all right,” Ginny was saying. “It’s ok. We’re going to get you inside.”
“But I want to go home,“ whispered the girl. ”I don’t want to fight anymore!“
“I know,” said Ginny, and her voice broke. “It’s going to be all right.”
Ripples of cold undulated over Harry’s skin. He wanted to shout out to the night, he wanted Ginny to know that he was there, he wanted her to know where he was going. He wanted to be stopped, to be dragged back, to be sent back home….
But he was home. Hogwards was the first and best home he had known. He and Voldemort and Snape, the abandoned boys, had all found home here….
Ginny was kneeling beside the injured girl now, holding her hand. With a huge effort Harry forced himself on. He thought he saw Ginny look around as he passed, and wondered whether she had sensed someone walking nearby, but he did not speak, and he did not look back.
Hagrid’s hut loomed out of the darkness. There were no lights, no sound of Fang scrabbling at the door, his bark booming in welcome. All those visits to Hagrid, and the gleam of the copper kettle on the fire, and rock cakes and giant grubs, and his great bearded face, and Ron vomiting slugs, and Hermione helping him save Norbert…
He moved on, and now he reached the edge of the forest, and he stopped.
A swarm of dementors was gliding amongst the trees; he could feel their chill, and he was not sure he would be able to pass safely through it. He had not strength left for a Patronus. He could no longer control his own trembling. It was not, after all, so easy to die. Every second he breathed, the smell of the grass, the cool air on his face, was so precious: To think that people had years and years, time to waste, so much time it dragged, and he was clinging to each second. At the same time he thought that he would not be able to go on, and knew that he must. The long game was ended, the Snitch had been caught, it was time to leave the air….
The Snitch. His nerveless fingers fumbled for a moment with the pouch at his neck and he pulled it out.
I open at the close.
Breathing fast and hard, he stared down at it. Now that he wanted time to move as slowly as possible, he seemed to have sped up, and understanding was coming so fast it seemed to have bypassed though. This was the close. This was the moment.
He pressed the golden metal to his lips and whispered, “I am about to die.”
The metal shell broke open. He lowered his shaking hand, raised Draco’s wand beneath the Cloak, and murmured, “Lumos.”
The black stone with is jagged crack running down the center sat in the two halves of the Snitch. The Resurrection Stone had cracked down the vertical line representing the Elder Wand. The triangle and circle representing the Cloak and the stone were still discernible.
And again Harry understood without having to think. It did not matter about bringing them back, for he was about to join them. He was not really fetching them: They were fetching him.
He closed his eyes and turned the stone over in his hand three times.
He knew it had happened, because he heard slight movements around him that suggested frail bodies shifting their footing on the earthy, twig-strewn ground that marked the outer edge of the forest. He opened his eyes and looked around.
They were neither ghost nor truly flesh, he could see that. They resembled most closely the Riddle that had escaped from the diary so long ago, and he had been memory made nearly solid. Less substantial than living bodies, but much more than ghosts, they moved toward him. And on each face, there was the same loving smile.
James was exactly the same height as Harry. He was wearing the clothes in which he had died, and his hair was untidy and ruffled, and his glasses were a little lopsided, like Mr. Weasley’s.
Sirius was tall and handsome, and younger by far than Harry had seen him in life. He loped with an easy grace, his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.
Lupin was younger too, and much less shabby, and his hair was thicker and darker. He looked happy to be back in this familiar place, scene of so many adolescent wanderings.
Lily’s smile was widest of all. She pushed her long hair back as she drew closer to him, and her green eyes, so like his, searched his face hungrily, as though she would never be able to look at him enough.
“You’ve been so brave.”
He could not speak. His eyes feasted on her, and he thought that he would like to stand and look at her forever, and that would be enough.
“You are nearly there,” said James. “Very close. We are… so proud of you.”
“Does it hurt?”
The childish question had fallen from Harry’s lips before he could stop it.
“Dying? Not at all,” said Sirius. “Quicker and easier than falling asleep.”
“And he will want it to be quick. He wants it over,” said Lupin.
“I didn’t want you to die,” Harry said. These words came without his volition. “Any of you. I’m sorry –”
He addressed Lupin more than any of them, beseeching him.
“– right after you’d had your son… Remus, I’m sorry –”
“I am sorry too,” said Lupin. “Sorry I will never know him… but he will know why I died and I hope he will understand. I was trying to make a world in which he could live a happier life.”
A chilly breeze that seemed to emanate from the heart of the forest lifted the hair at Harry’s brow. He knew that they would not tell him to go, that it would have to be his decision.
“You’ll stay with me?”
“Until the very end,” said James.
“They won’t be able to see you?” asked Harry.
“We are part of you,” said Sirius. “Invisible to anyone else.”
Harry looked at his mother.
“Stay close to me,” he said quietly.
And he set of. The dementors’ chill did not overcome him; he passed through it with his companions, and they acted like Patronuses to him, and together they marched through the old trees that grew closely together, their branches tangled, their roots gnarled and twisted underfoot. Harry clutched the Cloak tightly around him in the darkness, traveling deeper and deeper into the forest, with no idea where exactly Voldemort was, but sure that he would find him. Beside him, making scarcely a sound, walked James, Sirius, Lupin, and Lily, and their presence was his courage, and the reason he was able to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
His body and mind felt oddly disconnected now, his limbs working without conscious instruction, as if he were passenger, not driver, in the body he was about to leave. The dead who walked beside him through the forest were much more real to him now than the living back at the castle: Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and all the others were the ones who felt like ghosts as he stumbled and slipped toward the end of his life, toward Voldemort…
A thud and a whisper: Some other living creature had stirred close by. Harry stopped under the Cloak, peering around, listening, and his mother and father, Lupin and Sirius stopped too.
“Someone there,” came a rough whisper close at hand. “He’s got an Invisibility Cloak. Could it be –?”
Two figures emerged from behind a nearby tree: Their wands flared, and Harry saw Yaxley and Dolohov peering into the darkness, directly at the place Harry, his mother and father and Sirius and Lupin stood. Apparently they could not see anything.
“Definitely heard something,“ said Yaxley. ”Animal, d’you reckon?“
“That head case Hagrid kept a whole bunch of stuff in here,” said Dolohov, glancing over his shoulder.
Yaxley looked down at his watch.
“Time’s nearly up. Porter’s had his hour. He’s not coming.”
“Better go back,” said Yaxley. “Find out what the plan is now.”
He and Dolohov turned and walked deeper into the forest. Harry followed them, knowing that they would lead him exactly where he wanted to go. He glanced sideways, and his mother smiled at him, and his father nodded encouragement.
They had traveled on mere minutes when Harry saw light ahead, and Yaxley and Dolohov stepped out into a clearing that Harry knew had been the place where the monstrous Aragog had once lived. The remnants of his vast web were there still, but the swarms of descendants he had spawned had been driven out by the Death Eaters, to fight for their cause.
A fire burned in the middle of the clearing, and its flickering light fell over a crowd of completely silent, watchful Death Eaters. Some of them were still masked and hooded; others showed their faces. Two giants sat on the outskirts of the group, casting massive shadows over the scene, their faces cruel, rough-hewn like rock. Harry saw Fenrir, skulking, chewing his long nails; the great blond Rowle was dabbing at his bleeding lip. He saw Lucius Malfoy, who looked defeated and terrified, and Narcissa, whose eyes were sunken and full of apprehension.
Every eye was fixed upon Voldemort, who stood with his head bowed, and his white hands folded over the Elder Wand in front of him. He might have been praying, or else counting silently in his mind, and Harry, standing still on the edge of the scene, though absurdly of a child counting in a game of hide-and-seek. Behind his head, still swirling and coiling, the great snake Nagini floated in her glittering, charmed cage, like a monstrous halo.
When Dolohov and Yaxley rejoined the circle, Voldemort looked up.
“No sign of him, my Lord,” said Dolohov.
Voldemort’s expression did not change. The red eyes seemed to burn in the firelight. Slowly he drew the Elder Wand between his long fingers.
“My Lord –”
Bellatrix had spoken: She sat closest to Voldemort, disheveled, her face a little bloody but otherwise unharmed.
Voldemort raised his hand to silence her, and she did not speak another word, but eyed him in worshipful fascination.
“I thought he would come,” said Voldemort in his high, clear voice, his eyes on the leaping flames. “I expected him to come.”
Nobody spoke. They seemed as scared as Harry, whose heart was now throwing itself against his ribs as though determined to escape the body he was about to cast aside. His hands were sweating as he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it beneath his robes, with his wand. He did not want to be tempted to fight.
“I was, it seems… mistaken,” said Voldemort.
“You weren’t.”
Harry said it as loudly as he could, with all the force he could muster: He did not want to sound afraid. The Resurrection Stone slipped from between his numb fingers, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw his parents, Sirius, and Lupin vanish as he stepped forward into the firelight. At that moment he felt that nobody mattered but Voldemort. It was just the two of them.
The illusion was gone as soon as it had come. The giants roared as the Death Eaters rose together, and there were many cries, gasps, even laughter. Voldemort had frozen where he stood, but his red eyes had found Harry, and he stared as Harry moved toward him, with nothing but the fire between them.
Then a voice yelled: “HARRY! NO!”
He turned: Hagrid was bound and trussed, tied to a tree nearby. His massive body shook the branches overhead as he struggled, desperate.
“NO! NO! HARRY, WHAT’RE YEH –?”
“QUIET!” shouted Rowle, and with a flick of his wand, Hagrid was silenced.
Bellatrix, who had leapt to her feet, was looking eagerly from Voldemort to Harry, her breast heaving. The only things that moved were the flames and the snake, coiling and uncoiling in the glittering cage behind Voldemort’s head.
Harry could feel his wand against his chest, but he made no attempt to draw it. He knew that the snake was too well protected, knew that if he managed to point the wand at Nagini, fifty curses would hit him first. And still, Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and now Voldemort tilted his head a little to the side, considering the boy standing before him, and a singularly mirthless smile curled the lipless mouth.
“Harry Potter,” he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. “The Boy Who Lived.”
None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: Everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, and Bellatrix was panting, and Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his – Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear –
He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.
原来，这才是真相。哈利躺在那个他曾经以为自己洞悉了胜利秘密的办公室里，把脸埋进一条脏兮兮的毯子，终于明白了自己注定无法幸存。他所要做的，只是平静地走进死神欢迎的怀抱当中。在赴死之前，他还要切断伏地魔与人间残留的那一点儿联系。这样，当最后他没有任何防备的来到伏地魔面前时，一切就可以彻彻底底地结束了。
　　他在高锥克山谷就应该完成的工作到那时也就结束了。两个人都将死去，无一生还。他感到心脏在胸腔中怦怦地跳动着。真是奇怪，此刻他心中充满了对死亡的恐惧，然而他的心脏却跳动得如此有力，支撑着他活下去。但是，它就要停止工作了，而且很快就要。时日无多了。假如他站起来，最后一次走过城堡，穿过场地，进入禁林：还剩下多少时间让他来做这一切呢?
　　死亡的鼓声在他躺在地上的身体里沉重地回响，恐惧传遍了哈利全身。他会因恐惧而死吗?从前，每次在他以为死神即将降临时，都得以逃脱。可他却从未思考过这个问题：他求生的欲望总是远远超过他对死亡的恐惧。然而，现在他却并不想逃跑，不想逃离伏地魔。他知道一切已经结束了，现在惟一剩下的只有一条路：死亡。
　　如果他能在最后一次离开女贞路4号的那个夏夜就死去该有多好——可那支含有高贵的凤凰羽毛的魔杖救了他！如果他能像海德薇那样死去该有多好——快得他都不明白这是怎么发生的！或者如果他能将自己的身体挡在魔杖前——为了保护一个他所爱的人该有多好……他现在甚至有些妒忌他的父母能够那样死去。然而，这样无情地走向自己的末日需要另一种勇气。他感到自己的手指在轻轻颤抖，尽管没有人看得见——墙上的肖像已经全部空了——他还是努力去控制它们。
　　他非常缓慢地坐起身来。这么做的同时，他比从前更加强烈地感觉到自己的存在，并且更加清醒地意识到自己鲜活的生命。为什么以前他都没有认识到自己——大脑、神经和跳动的心脏——也是一个奇迹呢？它们都将消失，或者说，至少他是要离开它们的。他的呼吸渐渐变得缓慢而深沉，他感到嘴巴和喉咙很干，连眼睛也是。
　　邓布利多的出卖几乎不算什么。如今哈利终于意识到，他们显然一直有一个更大的计划。
　　只是他以前太傻才没有发现。他甚至从未怀疑过，就理所当然地认为邓布利多是希望他活下去的。现在他才明白，他生命的长短仅仅取决于消灭所有的魂器所需的时间。邓布利多把销毁魂器的工作交给了自己，而自己也遵从他的指示，继续破坏着那不仅把伏地魔，也把他同这个世界联系起来的纽带！多么简洁，多么优雅，不用再浪费其他任何一条生命，而是把这危险的任务留给那个已经被标记了‘杀戮’的男孩。他的死不会是一件不幸的事，而是给伏地魔的又一个致命一击。
　　而且邓布利多知道哈利是不会逃避的，就算是死他也会坚持到底，因为他已经不怕麻烦地接近并了解了哈利，不是吗？邓布利多知道，伏地魔也知道，既然哈利已经发现只有凭借自己的力量才能阻止这一切，那他就不会让其他的任何人为他而死。死去的弗雷德、卢平和唐克斯躺在礼堂中的身影浮现在他脑中无法挥去，有那么一会儿他简直都无法呼吸了。死神竟如此急不可耐……
　　但是邓布利多高估了哈利。他失败了：那条蛇活了下来。即使在哈利死后，仍会有一个魂器载着伏地魔的灵魂碎片留在这世上。不过，是的，如果他死了其他人会更容易地完成这个任务。会是谁呢？哈利猜想着。当然，罗恩和赫敏肯定会知道该做什么……这也许就是邓布利多希望哈利信任他们的原因吧……这样的话，假如他提前完成了自己的使命，他们还可以将计划继续实施下去……
　　就像雨点敲打在冰冷的窗户上，他的想法也敲打在那无可争议的事实之上。那事实就是，他必须得死。我必须死。这一切必须结束。
　　罗恩和赫敏仿佛离他很远，就像在一个遥远的国度，他感觉他们已经分开好长时间了。他决定不向他们告别或者做任何解释——这是一段注定无法共同经历的旅途，他们为阻止他所做的努力只会浪费宝贵的时间。他低头看了看他17岁生日时收到的金表——现在已经被压扁了——伏地魔留给他投降的时间已经过去了将近一半。
　　他站起来，心脏像一只受惊的小鸟一样狂乱地跳动并撞击着肋骨。也许它知道时间不多了，也许它打算在一切结束之前再跳最后一下。哈利关上办公室的门，没有再回头看。
　　城堡里空荡荡的，独自一人大步地穿过城堡时，哈利感到很可怕，就像自己已经死了似的。相框里的肖像们仍然不知踪影；所有的地方都异常寂静，仿佛这里仅剩的生气都集中在那个挤满了死伤者和哀悼者的礼堂里。
　　哈利穿上隐形衣，下了楼梯，最后走下大理石台阶进入门厅。也许他心里还是有那么一点希望自己能被别人感觉到，看到，把他阻拦下来。但是，隐形衣还是像以前那么完美而且不可感知，他很容易就到达了前门。
　　这时，纳威差点儿撞到他的身上。他正和另外一个人一起把伤员从场地上抬进来。哈利下意识地向下看了一眼，顿时觉得胃猛地一沉：是科林?克里维。尽管还没到年龄，但他一定是像马尔福、克拉布和高尔那样偷偷地溜过来的。在死神的面前，他显得是那样的渺小。
　　“知道吗，我一个人就能把他照顾好，纳威。”奥利弗?伍德像消防员扛梯子那样一把将科林扛在肩上，走进了礼堂。
　　纳威扶着门框站了一会，用手背擦了擦额头。他看来像个老人。然后他再次出发，抬脚步入黑暗当中去拯救更多的伤者。
　　哈利回头看了一眼门厅：人们在里面忙碌着，试图互相安慰，喝酒安抚情绪，或者跪在死者身旁祈祷。但没有看到一个他关心的人——没有赫敏，没有罗恩，没有金妮或者韦斯莱家中的任何一员，也没有卢娜。如果可以的话，他愿意用他生命中剩下的全部时间来交换，只要能让他再看他们最后一眼。但是如果那样，他又是否有足够的勇气回过头，接着上路呢？也许现在这样才更好吧。
　　他走下台阶，迈入黑暗当中。已经将近凌晨4点了，场地上死一般的寂静让人觉得好像所有人都在屏着呼吸，等着看哈利到底敢不敢去完成的使命。
　　哈利走向纳威，他正弯腰查看着另一位伤员。
　　“纳威。”
　　“哎呀，哈利，你差点吓死我了。”
　　哈利已经把隐形衣拽了下来：这时一个主意忽然在他的脑海中闪现——毕竟他希望一切都万无一失。
　　“你要去哪？一个人？”纳威有些怀疑地问。
　　“这都是计划的一部分，”哈利说，“有些事我必须去做。听着，纳威——”
　　“哈利！”纳威突然满脸恐惧地说，“哈利，你没有打算一个人去找伏地魔，对吗？”
　　“当然，”哈利骗他，一副轻松的样子，“当然没这个打算——是一些别的事情。不过我可能会暂时离开。你知道伏地魔的那条蛇吗，纳威？他有一条巨大的蛇，叫纳吉尼——”
　　“是的，我听说过，它怎么了？”
　　“它应该被杀死。罗恩和赫敏知道，但是万一他们——”
　　想起那可怕的情景，一种令人窒息的感觉让他无法继续说下去，他被迫停了一会。但是他很快让自己继续下去：现实很残酷，他得像邓布利多那样，保持头脑冷静，确保无论怎样都有后援人员接着干下去。邓布利多死的时候知道还有三个人了解魂器的秘密；现在纳威要代替哈利的位置：这样依然还是有三个人知道这个秘密。
　　“要是万一他们——对付不过来——那么你就抓住机会——”
　　“杀了那条蛇？”
　　“杀了那条蛇。”哈利重复道。
　　“好的，哈利。你还好着呢，是不是？”
　　“我很好，谢谢，纳威。”
　　可是就在哈利准备离开的时候，纳威抓住了他的手腕。
　　“我们都会继续战斗的，哈利，知道吗？”
　　“是的，我——”
　　那种令人喘不过气来的感觉又袭来了，让他没办法说下去。不过看起来纳威并没有发现什么异常。他拍了拍哈利的肩膀，松开手，走开去寻找更多的伤员。
　　哈利重新把隐形衣盖在身上向前走去。不远处有人在走动，接着停在了另一个俯卧在地面上的人跟前。他走到离那个人几英尺远的地方时，才意识那是金妮。
　　他停下脚步。她正蹲在一个轻声叫着妈妈的小女孩旁边。
　　“没什么 ，”金妮说，“没事的。我们要把你抬到里面去。”
　　“可是我想回家，”小女孩用微弱的声音说，“我再也不想战斗了！”
　　“我懂，”金妮说，声音有些沙哑，“很快就好了。”
　　哈利顿时感觉像坠入冰窖一般全身发抖。他真想对着夜空大叫一声，他想让金妮知道他在这儿，他想让她知道他要去哪。他想要被人阻止，被人拽回去，想被送回家……
　　但是他现在已经在家了。霍格沃茨是他所知道的第一个也是最好的一个家。他、伏地魔和斯内普，三个孤儿，都在这儿找到了家的感觉……
　　金妮现在正跪在那个受伤的女孩身边，握着她的手。哈利费了很大的劲才让自己继续向前走去。他想他看到金妮在他走过的时候四处张望了一下，不知道她是否感觉到了附近有人走过，不过哈利没有讲话，也没有再回头。
　　海格的小屋在黑暗中若隐若现。里面没有灯光，没有牙牙扒着门，发出欢迎他的吠声。哈利不禁回忆起从前他们去拜访海格时的情景：火上的那口闪烁着微光的大铜锅，岩皮饼和巨蛴螬，他那张满是胡子的脸，罗恩在吐鼻涕虫，赫敏帮忙他救走诺伯……
　　他继续向前走。到达禁林的边缘时，他停了下来。
　　一群摄魂怪正在丛林间滑行；他可以感受到它们腐臭的气息，他不敢保证自己能安全地穿越禁林。他已经没有力气来召唤守护神了。而且他在不能自已地发抖。毕竟，死也不是那么容易的事情。在他还能呼吸的每一秒钟里，草地的清香，掠过脸庞的冷空气，都变得这么珍贵：想想那些有着大把光阴的人们，对时间毫不爱惜，肆意挥霍着，可他却拼命地想抓住每一分每一秒。那一瞬间他觉得自己快要坚持不下去了，可他知道自己必须坚持。这个漫长的游戏已经结束了，告密者也被抓住了，现在是离开的时候了……
　　金色飞贼。
　　他用手指在脖子上紧张地摸索了一会，然后把一个小袋子拽了出来。
　　最后关头再打开。
　　哈利冷静地低头注视着它。既然他现在希望时间尽可能地慢下来，他的一切似乎都变得更快了，思维则更是如此。
　　现在就是最后关头。现在就是打开的时候。
　　他把飞贼贴在嘴唇上，轻声说道：“我就要死了。”
　　飞贼的盖子打开了。他放下手，在隐形衣下举起德拉科的魔杖，低声说：“荧光闪烁。”一块黑色的石头缓慢地从分成两半的飞贼中间漂浮了下来，带着‘噼啪’的轻响。回魂石沿着那条代表着元老魔杖的直线‘啪’的一声裂开了。不过代表着回魂石和隐形衣的圆形和三角形仍然依稀可见。
　　哈利又一次不假思索就明白了：他们根本不用复活，因为哈利即将随他们而去。事实上不是他在召唤他们，而是他们在召唤他。
　　他闭上双眼，把石头在手中转动了三次。
　　他知道他成功了，因为他可以听到他四周有轻微的移动声，有虚弱的身影在禁林边缘那铺满了树枝的土地上轻轻地走动着。他睁开眼睛环顾四周。
　　他知道，他们既不是鬼魂也不是真正的人。他们就像很久以前里德尔从日记中逃出来的时候那样，那是一段已经凝固在脑海中的记忆。他们向他走过来——看起来比活人来得虚幻，却比鬼魂来得真实。每个人的脸上都带着同样的充满爱意的笑容。
　　詹姆和哈利一样高。他穿着他死的时候的那身衣服，头发脏兮兮的凌乱的翘着，眼镜有点斜了，像韦斯莱先生那样子。
　　小天狼星高大英俊，比哈利认识的生活中的他显得年轻。他的手插在口袋里，一边优雅地慢慢跑着，一边咧开嘴笑着。
　　卢平也很年轻，而且看起来不那么寒酸，头发又黑又厚。回到这个他熟悉的地方，这个少年时曾无数次游荡过的地方，他看起来很高兴。
　　莉莉是所有人中最高兴的。她走近哈利，把长发甩到身后。她绿色的眼睛，简直就跟哈利的一样。她如此渴望地看着他的脸，就像从来都看不够似的。
　　“你真勇敢。”
　　哈利说不出话来。他一直看着她，他真想站在这，就这样看着她，直到永远。不，永远也不够长。
　　“你就要到了，”詹姆说，“非常近，我们……我们是这样地以你为荣。”
　　“那会疼吗？”
　　他还来不及阻止，这个幼稚的问题就从他嘴里冒了出来。
　　“死吗？一点也不，”小天狼星说，“很快的，比睡着还简单。”
　　“而且伏地魔也希望快点结束。他想让这一切结束。”卢平说。
　　“我不想你们死，”哈利说，这些话未经考虑就说了出来，“不想你们中的任何一个死去。对不起——”他充满歉意对他们说，不过对卢平的歉意更多——他几乎是在恳求卢平了。
　　“——你才刚刚有了孩子……莱姆斯，我很抱歉——”
　　“我也很遗憾，”卢平说，“因为我永远都见不了他……但是他会知道我为何死去，而且我希望他能理解——为了能让他生活在一个更美好的世界里”
　　一阵阴冷的微风吹来，似乎来自禁林的中心，哈利感到他浑身的汗毛都立起来了。他知道他们是不会劝他离开的，他必须自己做决定。
　　“你们会和我在一起的，对吗？”
　　“直到最后。”詹姆说。
　　“他们看不见你们？”哈利问。
　　“我们是你的一部分，”小天狼星说，“谁都看不见我们。”
　　哈利看着他的妈妈。
　　“离我近点儿。”他轻声说。
　　然后他出发了。摄魂怪的寒意没有伤害到他；他和他的同伴们一起穿过禁林——他们像守护神那样保护着他——穿过紧挨着生长在一起的古木，它们的树枝在头顶缠绕，根部在脚下纠结。哈利在黑暗中拉紧隐形衣，向森林的深处走去。他不知道伏地魔到底在哪，但他知道自己会找到他的。詹姆，小天狼星，卢平和莉莉在他身边悄无声息地走着，他们的出现给了他勇气，让他一步一步向前走去。
　　他的身体和意识好象奇怪地分离了，他的手脚不受控制地向前移动着，就好像他已经不是这具自己即将离开的躯体的主人了。他感觉到现在在他身边行走的这些死去的人们比那些在城堡中的活人更加真切：罗恩、赫敏、金妮。其他的所有人——在他跌跌撞撞地走向生命的尽头，走向伏地魔时——更像是鬼魂一样虚无缥缈，遥不可及……
　　忽然，附近传来一声重响和一阵耳语：另外的什么生物正在朝这靠近。哈利在隐形衣下停了下来，仔细地四处看了看，听着周围的动静，他的爸爸妈妈，小天狼星和卢平也停了下来。
　　“有人在那，”附近一个压低了的粗声粗气的声音说道，“他有一件隐形衣，难道是——？”
　　两个人影出现在近旁的一棵树后。借着他们的魔杖闪着微光，哈利看见了亚克斯利和多洛霍夫正盯着黑暗中哈利和他的同伴们所在的位置。不过显然，他们什么也看不到。
　　“确实听到了什么声音。”亚克斯利说，“你觉得会是动物吗？”
　　“那个大块头海格在这养了一群乱七八糟的东西，” 多洛霍夫说着回头看了看。
　　亚克斯利低头看了看他的表。
　　“时间快到了，波特还在磨蹭，他不会来了。”
　　“最好回去吧，”亚克斯利说，“看看现在的计划是什么。”
　　他和多洛霍夫转身走向禁林深处。哈利尾随他们。他知道他们会把自己准确地带到他想去的地方。他朝旁边看了看，发现妈妈正微笑着看着自己，爸爸对他鼓励地点了点头。
　　他们仅仅走了几分钟，哈利就看到了前面的光，然后亚克斯利和多洛霍夫走进了一片林间的空地。哈利知道，这曾经是巨型蜘蛛阿拉戈克住的地方。它那张巨大的蜘蛛网的残留的碎片还留在那里，可它的后代们已经被食死徒赶了出去，这里成了他们的大本营。
　　空地中间燃着一堆火，摇曳的火光照在一群沉默而警惕的食死徒的脸上。他们中有些人还带着面具蒙着头巾，有些人则面无遮掩。两个巨人坐在圈子的外围，在火光的照耀下投下一片巨大的阴影，他们的脸像岩石一样粗糙，脸上带着残忍的表情。哈利看见芬里厄躲避在一旁玩弄着它的长尾巴，那个金发的大个子莱尔正在轻抚他流血的嘴唇。他看见了卢修斯?马尔福——一副受挫的，惊恐的样子，还有纳西莎，她的凹陷的眼睛里充满了忧惧。
　　每一双眼睛都紧紧看着伏地魔，他正低头站着，惨白的双手在元老魔杖上方交叉着。他也许正在祈祷，或者在脑海中静静地数数，而哈利，则一动不动地站在这场景的边缘——想起了小孩子玩躲猫猫时数数的样子，多么荒谬！他的身后，纳吉尼盘旋蜷缩的身体漂浮在施过咒语的闪闪发光的笼子里，像一个巨大的光环。
　　当亚克斯利和多洛霍夫重新回到圈子时，伏地魔抬起头。
　　“没有他的消息，我的主人。” 多洛霍夫说。
　　伏地魔的不动声色。他红色的眼睛在火光中仿佛就要燃烧起来了。慢慢地，他用修长的手指举起元老魔杖。
　　“我的主人——”
　　贝拉特里克斯说：她坐在离伏地魔最近的位置上，浑身凌乱，脸上有一点血迹，但并没有受伤。伏地魔起手指阻止了她，她就再也没有开口，但却用崇敬的眼光看着伏地魔。
　　“我想他会来的，”伏地魔盯着跳动的火焰，用他清晰而傲慢的声音说，“我期待他的到来。”
　　没有人说话。他们看起来像哈利一样害怕，他的心脏狂跳着，似乎下定决心要冲破他的胸腔从这具他准备丢弃的躯壳中逃出去。他拉下隐形衣，把它和魔杖一起塞到长袍下面——他不想和伏地魔决斗。
　　“哦，看起来……我可能错了，”伏地魔说。
　　“你没有。”
　　哈利聚起他身上所有的力气，用最大的声音说出了这句话：他不想让听见的人觉得他很害怕。回魂石从他麻木的手指中间滑落，借助眼角的余光，他看到在他向火光走去时，他的父母，小天狼星还有卢平都一起消失了。那一刻他觉得除了伏地魔，其他任何人都是无关紧要的。这只是他们两个人的事。
　　不过幻想马上就消失了。巨人开始咆哮，食死徒们一起站了起来，他听见人群中有叫喊声，喘息声，甚至是笑声。伏地魔一动不动地站在那儿，他红色的眼睛看见了哈利，然后他就那么看着哈利向前走，直到他们中间只剩下一堆篝火。
　　这时有一个声音叫了起来：“哈利，不要！”
　　他转过身：海格被绑在旁边的一棵树上。他不顾一切地拼命扭动着庞大的身躯，头顶的树枝都摇晃了起来。
　　“不！不要！哈利，你在——？“
　　“无声无息！”莱尔的魔杖轻轻一挥，海格就不作声了。
　　贝拉特里克斯跳了起来，充满渴望地看着伏地魔和哈利，胸脯剧烈的起伏着。现在惟一在动的东西就是火光，还有纳吉尼——它在伏地魔身后闪着微光的笼子里一会卷曲一会舒展。
　　哈利可以感到魔杖挨着他的胸膛，但他没有去拿。他知道那条蛇被保护得很好，他还知道如果他试图把魔杖指向纳吉尼，无数条咒语会先射向他。哈利和伏地魔仍然注视着对方，这时伏地魔微微把头偏向一旁，打量着站在他眼前的这个男孩，无唇的嘴角微微上扬，露出了一个罕见的笑容。
　　“哈利?波特，”他轻轻地叫着，声音柔软的就像是摇曳的火苗的一部分。“大难不死的男孩。”
　　食死徒们都没有动。他们在等待：所有的人都在等待着。
　　海格在挣扎，贝拉特克斯在大口喘气，而哈利居然毫无理由地想起了金妮：她炽热的眼神，她吻他时的感觉——
　　伏地魔已经举起魔杖了，他的头仍然偏向一边，就像一个好奇的孩子，想看看如果他继续下去的话会怎样。哈利注视着那双红色的眼睛，希望他现在就动手，快点吧，在他还能站着的时候，在他还没有失去控制，泄露出他的恐惧的时候——
　　他看见伏地魔的嘴巴张开，一道绿光闪过，一切都结束了。

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Chapter 34 The Forest Again
Finally, the truth. Lying with his face pressed into the dusty carpet of the office where he had once thought he was learning the secrets of victory, Harry understood at last that he was not supposed to survive. His job was to walk calmly into Death’s welcoming arms. Along the way, he was to dispose of Voldemort’s remaining links to life, so that when at last he flung himself across Voldemort’s path, and did not raise a wand to defend himself, the end would be clean, and the job that ought to have been done in Godric’s Hollow would be finished. Neither would live, neither could survive.
He felt his heart pounding fiercely in his chest. How strange that in his dread of death, it pumped all the harder, valiantly keeping him alive. But it would have to stop, and soon. Its beats were numbered. How many would there be time for, as he rose and walked through the castle for the last time, out into the grounds and into the forest?
Terror washed over him as he lay on the floor, with that funeral drum pounding inside him. Would it hurt to die? All those times he had thought that it was about to happen and escaped, he had never really thought of the thing itself: His will to live had always been so much stronger than his fear of death. Yet it did not occur to him now to try to escape, to outrun Voldemort. It was over, he knew it, and all that was left was the thing itself: dying.
If he could only have died on that summer’s night when he had left number four, Privet Drive, for the last time, when the noble phoenix feather wand had saved him! If he could only have died like Hedwig, so quickly he would not have known it had happened! Or if he could have launched himself in front of a wand to save someone he loved… He envied even his parents’ deaths now. This cold-blooded walk to his own destruction would require a different kind of bravery. He felt his fingers trembling slightly and made an effort to control them, although no one could see him; the portraits on the walls were all empty.
Slowly, very slowly, he sat up, and as he did so he felt more alive and more aware of his own living body than ever before. Why had he never appreciated what a miracle he was, brain and nerve and bounding heart? It would all be gone… or at least, he would be gone from it. His breath came slow and deep, and his mouth and throat were completely dry, but so were his eyes.
Dumbledore’s betrayal was almost nothing. Of course there had been a bigger plan: Harry had simply been too foolish to see it, he realized that now. He had never questioned his own assumption that Dumbledore wanted him alive. Now he saw that his life span had always been determined by how long it took to eliminate all the Horcruxes. Dumbledore had passed the job of destroying them to him, and obediently he had continued to chip away at the bonds tying not only Voldemort, but himself, to life! How neat, how elegant, not to waste any more lives, but to give the dangerous task to the boy who had already been marked for slaughter, and whose death would not be a calamity, but another blow against Voldemort.
And Dumbledore had known that Harry would not duck out, that he would keep going to the end, even though it was his end, because he had taken trouble to get to know him, hadn’t he? Dumbledore knew, as Voldemort knew, that Harry would not let anyone else die for him now that he had discovered it was in his power to stop it. The images of Fred, Lupin, and Tonks lying dead in the Great Hall forced their way back into his mind’s eye, and for a moment he could hardly breathe. Death was impatient…
But Dumbledore had overestimated him. He had failed: The snake survived. One Horcrux remained to bind Voldemort to the earth, even after Harry had been killed. True, that would mean an easier job for somebody. He wondered who would do it… Ron and Hermione would know what needed to be done, of course… That would have been why Dumbledore wanted him to confide in two others… so that if he fulfilled his true destiny a little early, they could carry on…
Like rain on a cold window, these thoughts pattered against the hard surface of the incontrovertible truth, which was that he must die. I must die. It must end.
Ron and Hermione seemed a long way away, in a far-off country; he felt as though he had parted from them long ago. There would be no good-byes and no explanations, he was determined of that. This was a journey they could not take together, and the attempts they would make to stop him would waste valuable time. He looked down at the battered gold watch he had received on his seventeenth birthday. Nearly half of the hour allotted by Voldemort for his surrender had elapsed.
He stood up. His heart was leaping against his ribs like a frantic bird. Perhaps it knew it had little time left, perhaps it was determined to fulfill a lifetime’s beats before the end. He did not look back as he closed the office door.
The castle was empty. He felt ghostly striding through it alone, as if he had already died. The portrait people were still missing from their frames; the whole place was eerily still, as if all its remaining lifeblood were concentrated in the Great Hall where the dead and the mourners were crammed.
Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak over himself and descended through the floors, at last walking down the marble staircase into the entrance hall. Perhaps some tiny part of him hoped to be sensed, to be seen, to be stopped, but the Cloak was, as ever, impenetrable, perfect, and he reached the front doors easily.
Then Neville nearly walked into him. He was one half of a pair that was carrying a body in from the grounds. Harry glanced down and felt another dull blow to his stomach: Colon Creevey, though underage, must have sneaked back just as Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had done. He was tiny in death.
“You know what? I can manage him alone, Neville,” said Oliver Wood, and he heaved Colin over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift and carried him into the Great Hall.
Neville leaned against the door frame for a moment and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He looked like an old man. Then he set off on the steps again into the darkness to recover more bodies.
Harry took one glance back at the entrance of the Great Hall. People were moving around, trying to comfort each other, drinking, kneeling beside the dead, but he could not see any of the people he loved, no hint of Hermione, Ron, Ginny, or any of the other Weasleys, no Luna. He felt he would have given all the time remaining to him for just one last look at them; but then, would he ever have the strength to stop looking? It was better like this.
He moved down the steps and out into the darkness. It was nearly four in the morning, and the deathly stillness of the grounds felt as though they were holding their breath, waiting to see whether he could do what he must.
Harry moved toward Neville, who was bending over another body.
“Neville.”
“Blimey, Harry, you nearly gave me heart failure!”
Harry had pulled off the Cloak: The idea had come to him out of nowhere, born out of a desire to make absolutely sure.
“Where are you going, alone?” Neville asked suspiciously.
“It’s all part of the plan,” said Harry. “There’s something I’ve got to do. Listen –Neville –”
“Harry!” Neville looked suddenly scared. “Harry, you’re not thinking of handing yourself over?”
“No,” Harry lied easily. “‘Course not… this is something else. But I might be out of sight for a while. You know Voldemort’s snake. Neville? He’s got a huge snake… Calls it Nagini…”
“I’ve heard, yeah… What about it?”
“It’s got to be killed. Ron and Hermione know that, but just in case they –”
The awfulness of that possibility smothered him for a moment, made it impossible to keep talking. But he pulled himself together again: This was crucial, he must be like Dumbledore, keep a cool head, make sure there were backups, others to carry on. Dumbledore had died knowing that three people still knew about the Horcruxes; now Neville would take Harry’s place: There would still be three in the secret.
“Just in case they’re – busy – and you get the chance –”
“Kill the snake?”
“Kill the snake,” Harry repeated.
“All right, Harry. You’re okay, are you?”
“I’m fine. Thanks, Neville.”
But Neville seized his wrist as Harry made to move on.
“We’re all going to keep fighting, Harry. You know that?”
“Yeah, I –”
The suffocating feeling extinguished the end of the sentence; he could not go on. Neville did not seem to find it strange. He patted Harry on the shoulder, released him, and walked away to look for more bodies.
Harry swung the Cloak back over himself and walked on. Someone else was moving not far away, stooping over another prone figure on the ground. He was feet away from her when he realized it was Ginny.
He stopped in his tracks. She was crouching over a girl who was whispering for her mother.
“It’s all right,” Ginny was saying. “It’s ok. We’re going to get you inside.”
“But I want to go home,“ whispered the girl. ”I don’t want to fight anymore!“
“I know,” said Ginny, and her voice broke. “It’s going to be all right.”
Ripples of cold undulated over Harry’s skin. He wanted to shout out to the night, he wanted Ginny to know that he was there, he wanted her to know where he was going. He wanted to be stopped, to be dragged back, to be sent back home….
But he was home. Hogwards was the first and best home he had known. He and Voldemort and Snape, the abandoned boys, had all found home here….
Ginny was kneeling beside the injured girl now, holding her hand. With a huge effort Harry forced himself on. He thought he saw Ginny look around as he passed, and wondered whether she had sensed someone walking nearby, but he did not speak, and he did not look back.
Hagrid’s hut loomed out of the darkness. There were no lights, no sound of Fang scrabbling at the door, his bark booming in welcome. All those visits to Hagrid, and the gleam of the copper kettle on the fire, and rock cakes and giant grubs, and his great bearded face, and Ron vomiting slugs, and Hermione helping him save Norbert…
He moved on, and now he reached the edge of the forest, and he stopped.
A swarm of dementors was gliding amongst the trees; he could feel their chill, and he was not sure he would be able to pass safely through it. He had not strength left for a Patronus. He could no longer control his own trembling. It was not, after all, so easy to die. Every second he breathed, the smell of the grass, the cool air on his face, was so precious: To think that people had years and years, time to waste, so much time it dragged, and he was clinging to each second. At the same time he thought that he would not be able to go on, and knew that he must. The long game was ended, the Snitch had been caught, it was time to leave the air….
The Snitch. His nerveless fingers fumbled for a moment with the pouch at his neck and he pulled it out.
I open at the close.
Breathing fast and hard, he stared down at it. Now that he wanted time to move as slowly as possible, he seemed to have sped up, and understanding was coming so fast it seemed to have bypassed though. This was the close. This was the moment.
He pressed the golden metal to his lips and whispered, “I am about to die.”
The metal shell broke open. He lowered his shaking hand, raised Draco’s wand beneath the Cloak, and murmured, “Lumos.”
The black stone with is jagged crack running down the center sat in the two halves of the Snitch. The Resurrection Stone had cracked down the vertical line representing the Elder Wand. The triangle and circle representing the Cloak and the stone were still discernible.
And again Harry understood without having to think. It did not matter about bringing them back, for he was about to join them. He was not really fetching them: They were fetching him.
He closed his eyes and turned the stone over in his hand three times.
He knew it had happened, because he heard slight movements around him that suggested frail bodies shifting their footing on the earthy, twig-strewn ground that marked the outer edge of the forest. He opened his eyes and looked around.
They were neither ghost nor truly flesh, he could see that. They resembled most closely the Riddle that had escaped from the diary so long ago, and he had been memory made nearly solid. Less substantial than living bodies, but much more than ghosts, they moved toward him. And on each face, there was the same loving smile.
James was exactly the same height as Harry. He was wearing the clothes in which he had died, and his hair was untidy and ruffled, and his glasses were a little lopsided, like Mr. Weasley’s.
Sirius was tall and handsome, and younger by far than Harry had seen him in life. He loped with an easy grace, his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.
Lupin was younger too, and much less shabby, and his hair was thicker and darker. He looked happy to be back in this familiar place, scene of so many adolescent wanderings.
Lily’s smile was widest of all. She pushed her long hair back as she drew closer to him, and her green eyes, so like his, searched his face hungrily, as though she would never be able to look at him enough.
“You’ve been so brave.”
He could not speak. His eyes feasted on her, and he thought that he would like to stand and look at her forever, and that would be enough.
“You are nearly there,” said James. “Very close. We are… so proud of you.”
“Does it hurt?”
The childish question had fallen from Harry’s lips before he could stop it.
“Dying? Not at all,” said Sirius. “Quicker and easier than falling asleep.”
“And he will want it to be quick. He wants it over,” said Lupin.
“I didn’t want you to die,” Harry said. These words came without his volition. “Any of you. I’m sorry –”
He addressed Lupin more than any of them, beseeching him.
“– right after you’d had your son… Remus, I’m sorry –”
“I am sorry too,” said Lupin. “Sorry I will never know him… but he will know why I died and I hope he will understand. I was trying to make a world in which he could live a happier life.”
A chilly breeze that seemed to emanate from the heart of the forest lifted the hair at Harry’s brow. He knew that they would not tell him to go, that it would have to be his decision.
“You’ll stay with me?”
“Until the very end,” said James.
“They won’t be able to see you?” asked Harry.
“We are part of you,” said Sirius. “Invisible to anyone else.”
Harry looked at his mother.
“Stay close to me,” he said quietly.
And he set of. The dementors’ chill did not overcome him; he passed through it with his companions, and they acted like Patronuses to him, and together they marched through the old trees that grew closely together, their branches tangled, their roots gnarled and twisted underfoot. Harry clutched the Cloak tightly around him in the darkness, traveling deeper and deeper into the forest, with no idea where exactly Voldemort was, but sure that he would find him. Beside him, making scarcely a sound, walked James, Sirius, Lupin, and Lily, and their presence was his courage, and the reason he was able to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
His body and mind felt oddly disconnected now, his limbs working without conscious instruction, as if he were passenger, not driver, in the body he was about to leave. The dead who walked beside him through the forest were much more real to him now than the living back at the castle: Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and all the others were the ones who felt like ghosts as he stumbled and slipped toward the end of his life, toward Voldemort…
A thud and a whisper: Some other living creature had stirred close by. Harry stopped under the Cloak, peering around, listening, and his mother and father, Lupin and Sirius stopped too.
“Someone there,” came a rough whisper close at hand. “He’s got an Invisibility Cloak. Could it be –?”
Two figures emerged from behind a nearby tree: Their wands flared, and Harry saw Yaxley and Dolohov peering into the darkness, directly at the place Harry, his mother and father and Sirius and Lupin stood. Apparently they could not see anything.
“Definitely heard something,“ said Yaxley. ”Animal, d’you reckon?“
“That head case Hagrid kept a whole bunch of stuff in here,” said Dolohov, glancing over his shoulder.
Yaxley looked down at his watch.
“Time’s nearly up. Porter’s had his hour. He’s not coming.”
“Better go back,” said Yaxley. “Find out what the plan is now.”
He and Dolohov turned and walked deeper into the forest. Harry followed them, knowing that they would lead him exactly where he wanted to go. He glanced sideways, and his mother smiled at him, and his father nodded encouragement.
They had traveled on mere minutes when Harry saw light ahead, and Yaxley and Dolohov stepped out into a clearing that Harry knew had been the place where the monstrous Aragog had once lived. The remnants of his vast web were there still, but the swarms of descendants he had spawned had been driven out by the Death Eaters, to fight for their cause.
A fire burned in the middle of the clearing, and its flickering light fell over a crowd of completely silent, watchful Death Eaters. Some of them were still masked and hooded; others showed their faces. Two giants sat on the outskirts of the group, casting massive shadows over the scene, their faces cruel, rough-hewn like rock. Harry saw Fenrir, skulking, chewing his long nails; the great blond Rowle was dabbing at his bleeding lip. He saw Lucius Malfoy, who looked defeated and terrified, and Narcissa, whose eyes were sunken and full of apprehension.
Every eye was fixed upon Voldemort, who stood with his head bowed, and his white hands folded over the Elder Wand in front of him. He might have been praying, or else counting silently in his mind, and Harry, standing still on the edge of the scene, though absurdly of a child counting in a game of hide-and-seek. Behind his head, still swirling and coiling, the great snake Nagini floated in her glittering, charmed cage, like a monstrous halo.
When Dolohov and Yaxley rejoined the circle, Voldemort looked up.
“No sign of him, my Lord,” said Dolohov.
Voldemort’s expression did not change. The red eyes seemed to burn in the firelight. Slowly he drew the Elder Wand between his long fingers.
“My Lord –”
Bellatrix had spoken: She sat closest to Voldemort, disheveled, her face a little bloody but otherwise unharmed.
Voldemort raised his hand to silence her, and she did not speak another word, but eyed him in worshipful fascination.
“I thought he would come,” said Voldemort in his high, clear voice, his eyes on the leaping flames. “I expected him to come.”
Nobody spoke. They seemed as scared as Harry, whose heart was now throwing itself against his ribs as though determined to escape the body he was about to cast aside. His hands were sweating as he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it beneath his robes, with his wand. He did not want to be tempted to fight.
“I was, it seems… mistaken,” said Voldemort.
“You weren’t.”
Harry said it as loudly as he could, with all the force he could muster: He did not want to sound afraid. The Resurrection Stone slipped from between his numb fingers, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw his parents, Sirius, and Lupin vanish as he stepped forward into the firelight. At that moment he felt that nobody mattered but Voldemort. It was just the two of them.
The illusion was gone as soon as it had come. The giants roared as the Death Eaters rose together, and there were many cries, gasps, even laughter. Voldemort had frozen where he stood, but his red eyes had found Harry, and he stared as Harry moved toward him, with nothing but the fire between them.
Then a voice yelled: “HARRY! NO!”
He turned: Hagrid was bound and trussed, tied to a tree nearby. His massive body shook the branches overhead as he struggled, desperate.
“NO! NO! HARRY, WHAT’RE YEH –?”
“QUIET!” shouted Rowle, and with a flick of his wand, Hagrid was silenced.
Bellatrix, who had leapt to her feet, was looking eagerly from Voldemort to Harry, her breast heaving. The only things that moved were the flames and the snake, coiling and uncoiling in the glittering cage behind Voldemort’s head.
Harry could feel his wand against his chest, but he made no attempt to draw it. He knew that the snake was too well protected, knew that if he managed to point the wand at Nagini, fifty curses would hit him first. And still, Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and now Voldemort tilted his head a little to the side, considering the boy standing before him, and a singularly mirthless smile curled the lipless mouth.
“Harry Potter,” he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. “The Boy Who Lived.”
None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: Everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, and Bellatrix was panting, and Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his – Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear –
He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.
原来，这才是真相。哈利躺在那个他曾经以为自己洞悉了胜利秘密的办公室里，把脸埋进一条脏兮兮的毯子，终于明白了自己注定无法幸存。他所要做的，只是平静地走进死神欢迎的怀抱当中。在赴死之前，他还要切断伏地魔与人间残留的那一点儿联系。这样，当最后他没有任何防备的来到伏地魔面前时，一切就可以彻彻底底地结束了。
　　他在高锥克山谷就应该完成的工作到那时也就结束了。两个人都将死去，无一生还。他感到心脏在胸腔中怦怦地跳动着。真是奇怪，此刻他心中充满了对死亡的恐惧，然而他的心脏却跳动得如此有力，支撑着他活下去。但是，它就要停止工作了，而且很快就要。时日无多了。假如他站起来，最后一次走过城堡，穿过场地，进入禁林：还剩下多少时间让他来做这一切呢?
　　死亡的鼓声在他躺在地上的身体里沉重地回响，恐惧传遍了哈利全身。他会因恐惧而死吗?从前，每次在他以为死神即将降临时，都得以逃脱。可他却从未思考过这个问题：他求生的欲望总是远远超过他对死亡的恐惧。然而，现在他却并不想逃跑，不想逃离伏地魔。他知道一切已经结束了，现在惟一剩下的只有一条路：死亡。
　　如果他能在最后一次离开女贞路4号的那个夏夜就死去该有多好——可那支含有高贵的凤凰羽毛的魔杖救了他！如果他能像海德薇那样死去该有多好——快得他都不明白这是怎么发生的！或者如果他能将自己的身体挡在魔杖前——为了保护一个他所爱的人该有多好……他现在甚至有些妒忌他的父母能够那样死去。然而，这样无情地走向自己的末日需要另一种勇气。他感到自己的手指在轻轻颤抖，尽管没有人看得见——墙上的肖像已经全部空了——他还是努力去控制它们。
　　他非常缓慢地坐起身来。这么做的同时，他比从前更加强烈地感觉到自己的存在，并且更加清醒地意识到自己鲜活的生命。为什么以前他都没有认识到自己——大脑、神经和跳动的心脏——也是一个奇迹呢？它们都将消失，或者说，至少他是要离开它们的。他的呼吸渐渐变得缓慢而深沉，他感到嘴巴和喉咙很干，连眼睛也是。
　　邓布利多的出卖几乎不算什么。如今哈利终于意识到，他们显然一直有一个更大的计划。
　　只是他以前太傻才没有发现。他甚至从未怀疑过，就理所当然地认为邓布利多是希望他活下去的。现在他才明白，他生命的长短仅仅取决于消灭所有的魂器所需的时间。邓布利多把销毁魂器的工作交给了自己，而自己也遵从他的指示，继续破坏着那不仅把伏地魔，也把他同这个世界联系起来的纽带！多么简洁，多么优雅，不用再浪费其他任何一条生命，而是把这危险的任务留给那个已经被标记了‘杀戮’的男孩。他的死不会是一件不幸的事，而是给伏地魔的又一个致命一击。
　　而且邓布利多知道哈利是不会逃避的，就算是死他也会坚持到底，因为他已经不怕麻烦地接近并了解了哈利，不是吗？邓布利多知道，伏地魔也知道，既然哈利已经发现只有凭借自己的力量才能阻止这一切，那他就不会让其他的任何人为他而死。死去的弗雷德、卢平和唐克斯躺在礼堂中的身影浮现在他脑中无法挥去，有那么一会儿他简直都无法呼吸了。死神竟如此急不可耐……
　　但是邓布利多高估了哈利。他失败了：那条蛇活了下来。即使在哈利死后，仍会有一个魂器载着伏地魔的灵魂碎片留在这世上。不过，是的，如果他死了其他人会更容易地完成这个任务。会是谁呢？哈利猜想着。当然，罗恩和赫敏肯定会知道该做什么……这也许就是邓布利多希望哈利信任他们的原因吧……这样的话，假如他提前完成了自己的使命，他们还可以将计划继续实施下去……
　　就像雨点敲打在冰冷的窗户上，他的想法也敲打在那无可争议的事实之上。那事实就是，他必须得死。我必须死。这一切必须结束。
　　罗恩和赫敏仿佛离他很远，就像在一个遥远的国度，他感觉他们已经分开好长时间了。他决定不向他们告别或者做任何解释——这是一段注定无法共同经历的旅途，他们为阻止他所做的努力只会浪费宝贵的时间。他低头看了看他17岁生日时收到的金表——现在已经被压扁了——伏地魔留给他投降的时间已经过去了将近一半。
　　他站起来，心脏像一只受惊的小鸟一样狂乱地跳动并撞击着肋骨。也许它知道时间不多了，也许它打算在一切结束之前再跳最后一下。哈利关上办公室的门，没有再回头看。
　　城堡里空荡荡的，独自一人大步地穿过城堡时，哈利感到很可怕，就像自己已经死了似的。相框里的肖像们仍然不知踪影；所有的地方都异常寂静，仿佛这里仅剩的生气都集中在那个挤满了死伤者和哀悼者的礼堂里。
　　哈利穿上隐形衣，下了楼梯，最后走下大理石台阶进入门厅。也许他心里还是有那么一点希望自己能被别人感觉到，看到，把他阻拦下来。但是，隐形衣还是像以前那么完美而且不可感知，他很容易就到达了前门。
　　这时，纳威差点儿撞到他的身上。他正和另外一个人一起把伤员从场地上抬进来。哈利下意识地向下看了一眼，顿时觉得胃猛地一沉：是科林?克里维。尽管还没到年龄，但他一定是像马尔福、克拉布和高尔那样偷偷地溜过来的。在死神的面前，他显得是那样的渺小。
　　“知道吗，我一个人就能把他照顾好，纳威。”奥利弗?伍德像消防员扛梯子那样一把将科林扛在肩上，走进了礼堂。
　　纳威扶着门框站了一会，用手背擦了擦额头。他看来像个老人。然后他再次出发，抬脚步入黑暗当中去拯救更多的伤者。
　　哈利回头看了一眼门厅：人们在里面忙碌着，试图互相安慰，喝酒安抚情绪，或者跪在死者身旁祈祷。但没有看到一个他关心的人——没有赫敏，没有罗恩，没有金妮或者韦斯莱家中的任何一员，也没有卢娜。如果可以的话，他愿意用他生命中剩下的全部时间来交换，只要能让他再看他们最后一眼。但是如果那样，他又是否有足够的勇气回过头，接着上路呢？也许现在这样才更好吧。
　　他走下台阶，迈入黑暗当中。已经将近凌晨4点了，场地上死一般的寂静让人觉得好像所有人都在屏着呼吸，等着看哈利到底敢不敢去完成的使命。
　　哈利走向纳威，他正弯腰查看着另一位伤员。
　　“纳威。”
　　“哎呀，哈利，你差点吓死我了。”
　　哈利已经把隐形衣拽了下来：这时一个主意忽然在他的脑海中闪现——毕竟他希望一切都万无一失。
　　“你要去哪？一个人？”纳威有些怀疑地问。
　　“这都是计划的一部分，”哈利说，“有些事我必须去做。听着，纳威——”
　　“哈利！”纳威突然满脸恐惧地说，“哈利，你没有打算一个人去找伏地魔，对吗？”
　　“当然，”哈利骗他，一副轻松的样子，“当然没这个打算——是一些别的事情。不过我可能会暂时离开。你知道伏地魔的那条蛇吗，纳威？他有一条巨大的蛇，叫纳吉尼——”
　　“是的，我听说过，它怎么了？”
　　“它应该被杀死。罗恩和赫敏知道，但是万一他们——”
　　想起那可怕的情景，一种令人窒息的感觉让他无法继续说下去，他被迫停了一会。但是他很快让自己继续下去：现实很残酷，他得像邓布利多那样，保持头脑冷静，确保无论怎样都有后援人员接着干下去。邓布利多死的时候知道还有三个人了解魂器的秘密；现在纳威要代替哈利的位置：这样依然还是有三个人知道这个秘密。
　　“要是万一他们——对付不过来——那么你就抓住机会——”
　　“杀了那条蛇？”
　　“杀了那条蛇。”哈利重复道。
　　“好的，哈利。你还好着呢，是不是？”
　　“我很好，谢谢，纳威。”
　　可是就在哈利准备离开的时候，纳威抓住了他的手腕。
　　“我们都会继续战斗的，哈利，知道吗？”
　　“是的，我——”
　　那种令人喘不过气来的感觉又袭来了，让他没办法说下去。不过看起来纳威并没有发现什么异常。他拍了拍哈利的肩膀，松开手，走开去寻找更多的伤员。
　　哈利重新把隐形衣盖在身上向前走去。不远处有人在走动，接着停在了另一个俯卧在地面上的人跟前。他走到离那个人几英尺远的地方时，才意识那是金妮。
　　他停下脚步。她正蹲在一个轻声叫着妈妈的小女孩旁边。
　　“没什么 ，”金妮说，“没事的。我们要把你抬到里面去。”
　　“可是我想回家，”小女孩用微弱的声音说，“我再也不想战斗了！”
　　“我懂，”金妮说，声音有些沙哑，“很快就好了。”
　　哈利顿时感觉像坠入冰窖一般全身发抖。他真想对着夜空大叫一声，他想让金妮知道他在这儿，他想让她知道他要去哪。他想要被人阻止，被人拽回去，想被送回家……
　　但是他现在已经在家了。霍格沃茨是他所知道的第一个也是最好的一个家。他、伏地魔和斯内普，三个孤儿，都在这儿找到了家的感觉……
　　金妮现在正跪在那个受伤的女孩身边，握着她的手。哈利费了很大的劲才让自己继续向前走去。他想他看到金妮在他走过的时候四处张望了一下，不知道她是否感觉到了附近有人走过，不过哈利没有讲话，也没有再回头。
　　海格的小屋在黑暗中若隐若现。里面没有灯光，没有牙牙扒着门，发出欢迎他的吠声。哈利不禁回忆起从前他们去拜访海格时的情景：火上的那口闪烁着微光的大铜锅，岩皮饼和巨蛴螬，他那张满是胡子的脸，罗恩在吐鼻涕虫，赫敏帮忙他救走诺伯……
　　他继续向前走。到达禁林的边缘时，他停了下来。
　　一群摄魂怪正在丛林间滑行；他可以感受到它们腐臭的气息，他不敢保证自己能安全地穿越禁林。他已经没有力气来召唤守护神了。而且他在不能自已地发抖。毕竟，死也不是那么容易的事情。在他还能呼吸的每一秒钟里，草地的清香，掠过脸庞的冷空气，都变得这么珍贵：想想那些有着大把光阴的人们，对时间毫不爱惜，肆意挥霍着，可他却拼命地想抓住每一分每一秒。那一瞬间他觉得自己快要坚持不下去了，可他知道自己必须坚持。这个漫长的游戏已经结束了，告密者也被抓住了，现在是离开的时候了……
　　金色飞贼。
　　他用手指在脖子上紧张地摸索了一会，然后把一个小袋子拽了出来。
　　最后关头再打开。
　　哈利冷静地低头注视着它。既然他现在希望时间尽可能地慢下来，他的一切似乎都变得更快了，思维则更是如此。
　　现在就是最后关头。现在就是打开的时候。
　　他把飞贼贴在嘴唇上，轻声说道：“我就要死了。”
　　飞贼的盖子打开了。他放下手，在隐形衣下举起德拉科的魔杖，低声说：“荧光闪烁。”一块黑色的石头缓慢地从分成两半的飞贼中间漂浮了下来，带着‘噼啪’的轻响。回魂石沿着那条代表着元老魔杖的直线‘啪’的一声裂开了。不过代表着回魂石和隐形衣的圆形和三角形仍然依稀可见。
　　哈利又一次不假思索就明白了：他们根本不用复活，因为哈利即将随他们而去。事实上不是他在召唤他们，而是他们在召唤他。
　　他闭上双眼，把石头在手中转动了三次。
　　他知道他成功了，因为他可以听到他四周有轻微的移动声，有虚弱的身影在禁林边缘那铺满了树枝的土地上轻轻地走动着。他睁开眼睛环顾四周。
　　他知道，他们既不是鬼魂也不是真正的人。他们就像很久以前里德尔从日记中逃出来的时候那样，那是一段已经凝固在脑海中的记忆。他们向他走过来——看起来比活人来得虚幻，却比鬼魂来得真实。每个人的脸上都带着同样的充满爱意的笑容。
　　詹姆和哈利一样高。他穿着他死的时候的那身衣服，头发脏兮兮的凌乱的翘着，眼镜有点斜了，像韦斯莱先生那样子。
　　小天狼星高大英俊，比哈利认识的生活中的他显得年轻。他的手插在口袋里，一边优雅地慢慢跑着，一边咧开嘴笑着。
　　卢平也很年轻，而且看起来不那么寒酸，头发又黑又厚。回到这个他熟悉的地方，这个少年时曾无数次游荡过的地方，他看起来很高兴。
　　莉莉是所有人中最高兴的。她走近哈利，把长发甩到身后。她绿色的眼睛，简直就跟哈利的一样。她如此渴望地看着他的脸，就像从来都看不够似的。
　　“你真勇敢。”
　　哈利说不出话来。他一直看着她，他真想站在这，就这样看着她，直到永远。不，永远也不够长。
　　“你就要到了，”詹姆说，“非常近，我们……我们是这样地以你为荣。”
　　“那会疼吗？”
　　他还来不及阻止，这个幼稚的问题就从他嘴里冒了出来。
　　“死吗？一点也不，”小天狼星说，“很快的，比睡着还简单。”
　　“而且伏地魔也希望快点结束。他想让这一切结束。”卢平说。
　　“我不想你们死，”哈利说，这些话未经考虑就说了出来，“不想你们中的任何一个死去。对不起——”他充满歉意对他们说，不过对卢平的歉意更多——他几乎是在恳求卢平了。
　　“——你才刚刚有了孩子……莱姆斯，我很抱歉——”
　　“我也很遗憾，”卢平说，“因为我永远都见不了他……但是他会知道我为何死去，而且我希望他能理解——为了能让他生活在一个更美好的世界里”
　　一阵阴冷的微风吹来，似乎来自禁林的中心，哈利感到他浑身的汗毛都立起来了。他知道他们是不会劝他离开的，他必须自己做决定。
　　“你们会和我在一起的，对吗？”
　　“直到最后。”詹姆说。
　　“他们看不见你们？”哈利问。
　　“我们是你的一部分，”小天狼星说，“谁都看不见我们。”
　　哈利看着他的妈妈。
　　“离我近点儿。”他轻声说。
　　然后他出发了。摄魂怪的寒意没有伤害到他；他和他的同伴们一起穿过禁林——他们像守护神那样保护着他——穿过紧挨着生长在一起的古木，它们的树枝在头顶缠绕，根部在脚下纠结。哈利在黑暗中拉紧隐形衣，向森林的深处走去。他不知道伏地魔到底在哪，但他知道自己会找到他的。詹姆，小天狼星，卢平和莉莉在他身边悄无声息地走着，他们的出现给了他勇气，让他一步一步向前走去。
　　他的身体和意识好象奇怪地分离了，他的手脚不受控制地向前移动着，就好像他已经不是这具自己即将离开的躯体的主人了。他感觉到现在在他身边行走的这些死去的人们比那些在城堡中的活人更加真切：罗恩、赫敏、金妮。其他的所有人——在他跌跌撞撞地走向生命的尽头，走向伏地魔时——更像是鬼魂一样虚无缥缈，遥不可及……
　　忽然，附近传来一声重响和一阵耳语：另外的什么生物正在朝这靠近。哈利在隐形衣下停了下来，仔细地四处看了看，听着周围的动静，他的爸爸妈妈，小天狼星和卢平也停了下来。
　　“有人在那，”附近一个压低了的粗声粗气的声音说道，“他有一件隐形衣，难道是——？”
　　两个人影出现在近旁的一棵树后。借着他们的魔杖闪着微光，哈利看见了亚克斯利和多洛霍夫正盯着黑暗中哈利和他的同伴们所在的位置。不过显然，他们什么也看不到。
　　“确实听到了什么声音。”亚克斯利说，“你觉得会是动物吗？”
　　“那个大块头海格在这养了一群乱七八糟的东西，” 多洛霍夫说着回头看了看。
　　亚克斯利低头看了看他的表。
　　“时间快到了，波特还在磨蹭，他不会来了。”
　　“最好回去吧，”亚克斯利说，“看看现在的计划是什么。”
　　他和多洛霍夫转身走向禁林深处。哈利尾随他们。他知道他们会把自己准确地带到他想去的地方。他朝旁边看了看，发现妈妈正微笑着看着自己，爸爸对他鼓励地点了点头。
　　他们仅仅走了几分钟，哈利就看到了前面的光，然后亚克斯利和多洛霍夫走进了一片林间的空地。哈利知道，这曾经是巨型蜘蛛阿拉戈克住的地方。它那张巨大的蜘蛛网的残留的碎片还留在那里，可它的后代们已经被食死徒赶了出去，这里成了他们的大本营。
　　空地中间燃着一堆火，摇曳的火光照在一群沉默而警惕的食死徒的脸上。他们中有些人还带着面具蒙着头巾，有些人则面无遮掩。两个巨人坐在圈子的外围，在火光的照耀下投下一片巨大的阴影，他们的脸像岩石一样粗糙，脸上带着残忍的表情。哈利看见芬里厄躲避在一旁玩弄着它的长尾巴，那个金发的大个子莱尔正在轻抚他流血的嘴唇。他看见了卢修斯?马尔福——一副受挫的，惊恐的样子，还有纳西莎，她的凹陷的眼睛里充满了忧惧。
　　每一双眼睛都紧紧看着伏地魔，他正低头站着，惨白的双手在元老魔杖上方交叉着。他也许正在祈祷，或者在脑海中静静地数数，而哈利，则一动不动地站在这场景的边缘——想起了小孩子玩躲猫猫时数数的样子，多么荒谬！他的身后，纳吉尼盘旋蜷缩的身体漂浮在施过咒语的闪闪发光的笼子里，像一个巨大的光环。
　　当亚克斯利和多洛霍夫重新回到圈子时，伏地魔抬起头。
　　“没有他的消息，我的主人。” 多洛霍夫说。
　　伏地魔的不动声色。他红色的眼睛在火光中仿佛就要燃烧起来了。慢慢地，他用修长的手指举起元老魔杖。
　　“我的主人——”
　　贝拉特里克斯说：她坐在离伏地魔最近的位置上，浑身凌乱，脸上有一点血迹，但并没有受伤。伏地魔起手指阻止了她，她就再也没有开口，但却用崇敬的眼光看着伏地魔。
　　“我想他会来的，”伏地魔盯着跳动的火焰，用他清晰而傲慢的声音说，“我期待他的到来。”
　　没有人说话。他们看起来像哈利一样害怕，他的心脏狂跳着，似乎下定决心要冲破他的胸腔从这具他准备丢弃的躯壳中逃出去。他拉下隐形衣，把它和魔杖一起塞到长袍下面——他不想和伏地魔决斗。
　　“哦，看起来……我可能错了，”伏地魔说。
　　“你没有。”
　　哈利聚起他身上所有的力气，用最大的声音说出了这句话：他不想让听见的人觉得他很害怕。回魂石从他麻木的手指中间滑落，借助眼角的余光，他看到在他向火光走去时，他的父母，小天狼星还有卢平都一起消失了。那一刻他觉得除了伏地魔，其他任何人都是无关紧要的。这只是他们两个人的事。
　　不过幻想马上就消失了。巨人开始咆哮，食死徒们一起站了起来，他听见人群中有叫喊声，喘息声，甚至是笑声。伏地魔一动不动地站在那儿，他红色的眼睛看见了哈利，然后他就那么看着哈利向前走，直到他们中间只剩下一堆篝火。
　　这时有一个声音叫了起来：“哈利，不要！”
　　他转过身：海格被绑在旁边的一棵树上。他不顾一切地拼命扭动着庞大的身躯，头顶的树枝都摇晃了起来。
　　“不！不要！哈利，你在——？“
　　“无声无息！”莱尔的魔杖轻轻一挥，海格就不作声了。
　　贝拉特里克斯跳了起来，充满渴望地看着伏地魔和哈利，胸脯剧烈的起伏着。现在惟一在动的东西就是火光，还有纳吉尼——它在伏地魔身后闪着微光的笼子里一会卷曲一会舒展。
　　哈利可以感到魔杖挨着他的胸膛，但他没有去拿。他知道那条蛇被保护得很好，他还知道如果他试图把魔杖指向纳吉尼，无数条咒语会先射向他。哈利和伏地魔仍然注视着对方，这时伏地魔微微把头偏向一旁，打量着站在他眼前的这个男孩，无唇的嘴角微微上扬，露出了一个罕见的笑容。
　　“哈利?波特，”他轻轻地叫着，声音柔软的就像是摇曳的火苗的一部分。“大难不死的男孩。”
　　食死徒们都没有动。他们在等待：所有的人都在等待着。
　　海格在挣扎，贝拉特克斯在大口喘气，而哈利居然毫无理由地想起了金妮：她炽热的眼神，她吻他时的感觉——
　　伏地魔已经举起魔杖了，他的头仍然偏向一边，就像一个好奇的孩子，想看看如果他继续下去的话会怎样。哈利注视着那双红色的眼睛，希望他现在就动手，快点吧，在他还能站着的时候，在他还没有失去控制，泄露出他的恐惧的时候——
　　他看见伏地魔的嘴巴张开，一道绿光闪过，一切都结束了。

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    Chapter Thirty-Three
    The Prince‘s Tale
    Harry remained kneeling at Snape‘s side， simply staring down at him， until quite suddenly a high， cold voice spoke so close to them that Harry jumped on his feet， the flask gripped tightly in his hands， thinking that Voldemort had reentered the room.
    Voldemort‘s voice reverberated from the walls and floor， and Harry realized that he was talking to Hogwarts and to all the surrounding area， that the residents of Hogsmeade and all those still fighting in the castle would hear him as clearly as if he stood beside them， his breath on the back of their necks， a deathblow away.
    “You have fought，” said the high， cold voice， “valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery.
    “Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me， you will all die， one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste.
    “Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately.
    “You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.
    “I speak now， Harry Potter， directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If， at the end of that hour， you have not come to me， have not given yourself up， then battle recommences. This time， I shall enter the fray myself， Harry Potter， and I shall find you， and I shall punish every last man， woman， and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour.”
    Both Ron and Hermione shook their heads frantically， looking at Harry.
    “Don‘t listen to him，” said Ron.
    “It‘ll be all right，” said Hermione wildly. “Let’s – let‘s get back to the castle， if he’s gone to the forest we‘ll need to think of a new plan – ”
    She glanced at Snape‘s body， then hurried back to the tunnel entrance. Ron followed her. Harry gathered up the Invisibility Cloak， then looked down at Snape. He did not know what to feel， except shock at the way Snape had been killed， and the reason for which it had been done…
    They crawled back through the tunnel， none of them talking， and Harry wondered whether Ron and Hermione could still hear Voldemort ringing in their heads as he could.
    You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest…One hour…
    Small bundles seemed to litter the lawn at the front of the castle （？）。 It could only be an hour or so from dawn， yet it was pitch-black. The three of them hurried toward the stone steps. A lone dog， the size of a small boat， lay abandoned in front of them. There was no other sign of Grawp or of his attacker.
    The castle was unnaturally silent. There were no flashes of light now， no bangs or screams or shouts. The flagstones of the deserted entrance hall were stained with blood. Emeralds were still scattered all over the floor， along with pieces of marble and splintered wood. Part of the banisters had been blown away.
    “Where is everyone？” whispered Hermione.
    Ron led the way to the Great Hall. Harry stopped in the doorway.
    The House tables were gone and the room was crowded. The survivors stood in groups， their arms around each other‘s necks. The injured were being treated upon the raised platform by Madam Pomfrey and a group of helpers. Firenze was amongst the injured； his flank poured blood and he shook where he lay， unable to stand.
    The dead lay in a row in the middle of the Hall. Harry could not see Fred‘s body，because his family surrounded him. George was kneeling at his head； Mrs. Weasley was lying across Fred’s chest， her body shaking. Mr. Weasley stroking her hair while tears cascaded down his cheeks.
    Without a word to Harry， Ron and Hermione walked away. Harry saw Hermione approach Ginny， whose face was swollen and blotchy， and hug her. Ron joined Bill， Fleur，and Percy， who flung an arm around Ron‘s shoulders. As Ginny and Hermione moved closer to the rest of the family， Harry had a clear view of the bodies lying next to Fred. Remus and Tonks， pale and still and peaceful-looking， apparently asleep beneath the dark，enchanted ceiling.
    The Great Hall seemed to fly away， become smaller， shrink， as Harry reeled backward from the doorway. He could not draw breath. He could not bear to look at any of the other bodies， to see who else had died for him. He could not bear to join the Weasleys， could not look into their eyes， when if he had given himself up in the first place， Fred might never have died…
    He turned away and ran up the marble staircase. Lupin， Tonks… He yearned not to feel… He wished he could rip out his heart， his innards， everything that was screaming inside him…
    The castle was completely empty； even the ghosts seemed to have joined the mass mourning in the Great Hall. Harry ran without stopping， clutching the crystal flask of Snape‘s last thoughts， and he did not slow down until he reached the stone gargoyle guarding the headmaster’s office.
    “Password？”
    “Dumbledore！” said Harry without thinking， because it was he whom he yearned to see， and to his surprise the gargoyle slid aside revealing the spiral staircase behind.
    But when Harry burst into the circular office he found a change. The portraits that hung all around the walls were empty. Not a single headmaster or headmistress remained to see him； all， it seemed， had flitted away， charging through the paintings that lined the castle so that they could have a clear view of what was going on.
    Harry glanced hopelessly at Dumbledore‘s deserted frame， which hung directly behind the headmaster’s chair， then turned his back on it. The stone Pensieve lay in the cabinet where it had always been. Harry heaved it onto the desk and poured Snape‘s memories into the wide basin with its runic markings around the edge. To escape into someone else’s head would be a blessed relief… Nothing that even Snape had left him could be worse than his own thoughts. The memories swirled， silver white and strange，
    and without hesitating， with a feeling of reckless abandonment， as though this would assuage his torturing grief， Harry dived.
    He fell headlong into sunlight， and his feet found warm ground. When he straightened up， he saw that he was in a nearly deserted playground. A single huge chimney dominated the distant skyline. Two girls were swinging backward and forward，and a skinny boy was watching them from behind a clump of bushes. His black hair was overlong and his clothes were so mismatched that it looked deliberate： too short jeans， a shabby， overlarge coat that might have belonged to a grown man， an odd smocklike shirt.
    Harry moved closer to the boy. Snape looked no more than nine or ten years old，sallow， small， stringy. There was undisguised greed in his thin face as he watched the younger of the two girls swinging higher and higher than her sister.
    “Lily， don‘t do it！” shrieked the elder of the two.
    But the girl had let go of the swing at the very height of its arc and flown into the air， quite literally flown， launched herself skyward with a great shout of laughter， and instead of crumpling on the playground asphalt， she soared like a trapeze artist through the air， staying up far too long， landing far too lightly.
    “Mummy told you not to！”
    Petunia stopped her swing by dragging the heels of her sandals on the ground，making a crunching， grinding sound， then leapt up， hands on hips.
    “Mummy said you weren‘t allowed， Lily！”
    “But I‘m fine，” said Lily， still giggling. “Tuney， look at this. Watch what I can do.”
    Petunia glanced around. The playground was deserted apart from themselves and，though the girls did not know it， Snape. Lily had picked up a fallen flower from the bush behind which Snape lurked. Petunia advanced， evidently torn between curiosity and disapproval. Lily waited until Petunia was near enough to have a clear view， then held out her palm. The flower sat there， opening and closing its petals， like some bizarre，many-lipped oyster.
    “Stop it！” shrieked Petunia.
    “It‘s not hurting you，” said Lily， but she closed her hand on the blossom and threw it back to the ground.
    “It‘s not right，” said Petunia， but her eyes had followed the flower’s flight to the ground and lingered upon it. “How do you do it？” she added， and there was definite longing in her voice.
    “It‘s obvious， isn’t it？” Snape could no longer contain himself， but had jumped out from behind the bushes. Petunia shrieked and ran backward toward the swings， but Lily， though clearly startled， remained where she was. Snape seemed to regret his appearance. A dull flush of color mounted the sallow cheeks as he looked at Lily.
    “What‘s obvious？” asked Lily.
    Snape had an air of nervous excitement. With a glance at the distant Petunia， now hovering beside the swings， he lowered his voice and said， “I know what you are.”
    “What do you mean？”
    “You‘re…you’re a witch，” whispered Snape.
    She looked affronted.
    “That‘s not a very nice thing to say to somebody！”
    She turned， nose in the air， and marched off toward her sister.
    “No！” said Snape. He was highly colored now， and Harry wondered why he did not take off the ridiculously large coat， unless it was because he did not want to reveal the smock beneath it. He flapped after the girls， looking ludicrously batlike， like his older self.
    The sisters considered him， united in disapproval， both holding on to one of the swing poles， as though it was the safe place in tag.
    “You are，” said Snape to Lily. “You are a witch. I‘ve been watching you for a while. But there’s nothing wrong with that. My mum‘s one， and I’m a wizard.”
    Petunia‘s laugh was like cold water.
    “Wizard！” she shrieked， her courage returned now that she had recovered from the shock of his unexpected appearance. “I know who you are. You‘re that Snape boy！
    They live down Spinner‘s End by the river，“ she told Lily， and it was evident from her tone that she considered the address a poor recommendation. ”Why have you been spying on us？“
    “Haven‘t been spying，” said Snape， hot and uncomfortable and dirty-haired in the bright sunlight. “Wouldn’t spy on you， anyway，” he added spitefully， “you‘re a Muggle.”
    Though Petunia evidently did not understand the word， she could hardly mistake the tone.
    “Lily， come on， we‘re leaving！” she said shrilly. Lily obeyed her sister at once，glaring at Snape as she left. He stood watching them as they marched through the playground gate， and Harry， the only one left to observe him， recognized Snape’s bitter disappointment， and understood that Snape had been planning this moment for a while，and that it had all gone wrong…
    The scene dissolved， and before Harry knew it， re-formed around him. He was now in a small thicket of trees. He could see a sunlit river glittering through their trunks. The shadows cast by the trees made a basin of cool green shade. Two children sat facing each other， cross-legged on the ground. Snape had removed his coat now； his odd smock looked less pecular in the half light.
    “…and the Ministry can punish you if you do magic outside school， you get letters.”
    “But I have done magic outside school！”
    “We‘re all right. We haven’t got wands yet. They let you off when you‘re a kid and you can’t help it. But once you‘re eleven，” he nodded importantly， “and they start training you， then you’ve got to go careful.”
    There was a little silence. Lily had picked up a fallen twig and twirled it in the air，and Harry knew that she was imagining sparks trailing from it. Then she dropped the twig，leaned in toward the boy， and said， “It is real， isn‘t it？ It’s not a joke？ Petunia says you‘re lying to me. Petunia says there isn’t a Hogwarts. It is real， isn‘t it？”
    “It‘s real for us，” said Snape. “Not for her. But we’ll get the letter， you and me.”
    “Really？” whispered Lily.
    “Definitely，” said Snape， and even with his poorly cut hair and his odd clothes， he struck an oddly impressive figure sprawled in front of her， brimful of confidence in his destiny.
    “And will it really come by owl？” Lily whispered.
    “Normally，” said Snape. “But you‘re Muggle-born， so someone from the school will have to come and explain to your parents.”
    “Does it make a difference， being Muggle-born？”
    Snape hesitated. His black eyes， eager in the greenish gloom， moved over the pale face， the dark red hair.
    “No，” he said. “It doesn‘t make any difference.”
    “Good，” said Lily， relaxing. It was clear that she had been worrying.
    “You‘ve got loads of magic，” said Snape. “I saw that. All the time I was watching you…”
    His voice trailed away； she was not listening， but had stretched out on the leafy ground and was looking up at the canopy of leaves overhead. He watched her as greedily as he had watched her in the playground.
    “How are things at your house？” Lily asked.
    A little crease appeared between his eyes.
    “Fine，” he said.
    “They‘re not arguing anymore？”
    “Oh yes， they‘re arguing，” said Snape. He picked up a fistful of leaves and began tearing them apart， apparently unaware of what he was doing. “But it won’t be that long and I‘ll be gone.”
    “Doesn‘t your dad like magic？”
    “He doesn‘t like anything， much，” said Snape.
    “Severus？”
    A little smile twisted Snape‘s mouth when she said his name.
    “Yeah？”
    “Tell me about the dementors again.”
    “What d‘you want to know about them for？”
    “If I use magic outside school – ”
    “They wouldn‘t give you to the dementors for that！ Dementors are for people who do really bad stuff. They guard the wizard prison， Azkaban. You’re not going to end up in Azkaban， you‘re too – ”
    He turned red again and shredded more leaves. Then a small rustling noise behind Harry made him turn： Petunia， hiding behind a tree， had lost her footing.
    “Tuney！” said Lily， surprise and welcome in her voice， but Snape had jumped to his feet.
    “Who‘s spying now？” he shouted. “What d’you want？”
    Petunia was breathless， alarmed at being caught. Harry could see her struggling for something hurtful to say.
    “What is that you‘re wearing， anyway？” she said， pointing at Snape’s chest.“Your mum‘s blouse？”
    There was a crack. A branch over Petunia‘s head had fallen. Lily screamed. The branch caught Petunia on the shoulder， and she staggered backward and burst into tears.
    “Tuney！”
    But Petunia was running away. Lily rounded on Snape.
    “Did you make that happen？”
    “No.” He looked both defiant and scared.
    “You did！” She was backing away from him. “You did！ You hurt her！”
    “No – no， I didn‘t！”
    But the lie did not convince Lily. After one last burning look， she ran from the little thicket， off after her sister， and Snape looked miserable and confused…
    And the scene re-formed. Harry looked around. He was on platform nine and three quarters， and Snape stood beside him， slightly hunched， next to a thin， sallow-faced，sour-looking woman who greatly resembled him. Snape was staring at a family of four a short distance away. The two girls stood a little apart from their parents. Lily seemed to be pleading with her sister. Harry moved closer to listen.
    “…I‘m sorry， Tuney， I’m sorry！ Listen – ” She caught her sister‘s hand and held tight to it， even though Petunia tried to pull it away. “Maybe once I’m there – no， listen，Tuney！ Maybe once I‘m there， I’ll be able to go to Professor Dumbledore and persuade him to change his mind！”
    “I don‘t – want – to – go！” said Petunia， and she dragged her hand back out of her sister’s grasp. “You think I want to go to some stupid castle and learn to be a – a…”
    Her pale eyes roved over the platform， over the cats mewling in their owners‘arms， over the owls， fluttering and hooting at each other in cages， over the students， some already in their long black robes， loading trunks onto the scarlet steam engine or else greeting one another with glad cries after a summer apart.
    “ – you think I want to be a – a freak？”
    Lily‘s eyes filled with tears as Petunia succeeded in tugging her hand away.
    “I‘m not a freak，” said Lily. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”
    “That‘s where you’re going，” said Petunia with relish. “A special school for freaks. You and that Snape boy…weirdos， that‘s what you two are. It’s good you‘re being separated from normal people. It’s for our safety.”
    Lily glanced toward her parents， who were looking around the platform with an air of wholehearted enjoyment， drinking in the scene. Then she looked back at her sister，and her voice was low and fierce.
    “You didn‘t think it was such a freak’s school when you wrote to the headmaster and begged him to take you.”
    Petunia turned scarlet.
    “Beg？ I didn‘t beg！”
    “I saw his reply. It was very kind.”
    “You shouldn‘t have read – ” whispered Petunia， “that was my private – how could you – ？”
    Lily gave herself away by half-glancing toward where Snape stood nearby. Petunia gasped.
    “That boy found it！ You and that boy have been sneaking in my room！”
    “No – not sneaking – ” Now Lily was on the defensive. “Severus saw the envelope， and he couldn‘t believe a Muggle could have contacted Hogwarts， that’s all！
    He says there must be wizards working undercover in the postal service who take care of– “
    “Apparently wizards poke their noses in everywhere！” said Petunia， now as pale as she had been flushed. “Freak！” she spat at her sister， and she flounced off to where her parents stood…
    The scene dissolved again. Snape was hurrying along the corridor of the Hogwarts Express as it clattered through the countryside. He had already changed into his school robes， had perhaps taken the first opportunity to take off his dreadful Muggle clothes. At last he stopped， outside a compartment in which a group of rowdy boys were
    talking. Hunched in a corner seat beside the window was Lily， her face pressed against the windowpane.
    Snape slid open the compartment door and sat down opposite Lily. She glanced at him and then looked back out of the window. She had been crying.
    “I don‘t want to talk to you，” she said in a constricted voice.
    “Why not？”
    “Tuney h-hates me. Because we saw that letter from Dumbledore.”
    “So what？”
    She threw him a look of deep dislike.
    “So she‘s my sister！”
    “She‘s only a – ” He caught himself quickly； Lily， too busy trying to wipe her eyes without being noticed， did not hear him.
    “But we‘re going！” he said， unable to suppress the exhilaration in his voice. “This is it！ We’re off to Hogwarts！”
    She nodded， mopping her eyes， but in spite of herself， she half smiled.
    “You‘d better be in Slytherin，” said Snape， encouraged that she had brightened a little.
    “Slytherin？”
    One of the boys sharing the compartment， who had shown no interest at all in Lily or Snape until that point， looked around at the word， and Harry， whose attention had been focused entirely on the two beside the window， saw his father： slight， black-haired like Snape， but with that indefinable air of having been well-cared-for， even adored， that Snape so conspicuously lacked.
    “Who wants to be in Slytherin？ I think I‘d leave， wouldn’t you？” James asked the boy lounging on the seats opposite him， and with a jolt， Harry realized that it was Sirius. Sirius did not smile.
    “My whole family have been in Slytherin，” he said.
    “Blimey，” said James， “and I thought you seemed all right！”
    Sirius grinned.
    “Maybe I‘ll break the tradition. Where are you heading， if you’ve got the choice？”
    James lifted an invisible sword.
    “‘Gryffindor， where dwell the brave at heart！’ Like my dad.”
    Snape made a small， disparaging noise. James turned on him.
    “Got a problem with that？”
    “No，” said Snape， though his slight sneer said otherwise. “If you‘d rather be brawny than brainy – ”
    “Where‘re you hoping to go， seeing as you’re neither？” interjected Sirius.
    James roared with laughter. Lily sat up， rather flushed， and looked from James to Sirius in dislike.
    “Come on， Severus， let‘s find another compartment.”
    “Oooooo…”
    James and Sirius imitated her lofty voice； James tried to trip Snape as he passed.
    “See ya， Snivellus！” a voice called， as the compartment door slammed…
    And the scene dissolved once more…
    Harry was standing right behind Snape as they faced the candlelit House tables，lined with rapt faces. Then Professor McGonagall said， “Evans， Lily！”
    He watched his mother walk forward on trembling legs and sit down upon the rickety stool. Professor McGonagall dropped the Sorting Hat onto her head， and barely a second after it had touched the dark red hair， the hat cried， “Gryffindor！”
    Harry heard Snape let out a tiny groan. Lily took off the hat， handed it back to Professor McGonagall， then hurried toward the cheering Gryffindors， but as she went she glanced back at Snape， and there was a sad little smile on her face. Harry saw Sirius move up the bench to make room for her. She took one look at him， seemed to recognize him from the train， folded her arms， and firmly turned her back on him.
    The roll call continued. Harry watched Lupin， Pettigrew， and his father join Lily and Sirius at the Gryffindor table. At last， when only a dozen students remained to be sorted， Professor McGonagall called Snape.
    Harry walked with him to the stool， watched him place the hat upon his head.“Slytherin！” cried the Sorting Hat.
    And Severus Snape moved off to the other side of the Hall， away from Lily， to where the Slytherins were cheering him， to where Lucius Malfoy， a prefect badge gleaming upon his chest， patted Snape on the back as he sat down beside him…
    And the scene changed…
    Lily and Snape were walking across the castle courtyard， evidently arguing. Harry hurried to catch up with them， to listen in. As he reached them， he realized how much taller they both were. A few years seemed to have passed since their Sorting.
    “…thought we were supposed to be friends？” Snape was saying， “Best friends？”
    “We are， Sev， but I don‘t like some of the people you’re hanging round with！ I‘m sorry， but I detest Avery and Mulciber！ Mulciber！ What do you see in him， Sev， he’s creepy！ D‘you know what he tried to do to Mary Macdonald the other day？”
    Lily had reached a pillar and leaned against it， looking up into the thin， sallow face.
    “That was nothing，” said Snape. “It was a laugh， that‘s all – ”
    “It was Dark Magic， and if you think that‘s funny – ”
    “What about the stuff Potter and his mates get up to？” demanded Snape. His color rose again as he said it， unable， it seemed， to hold in his resentment.
    “What‘s Potter got to do with anything？” said Lily.
    “They sneak out at night. There‘s something weird about that Lupin. Where does he keep going？”
    “He‘s ill，” said Lily. “They say he’s ill – ”
    “Every month at the full moon？” said Snape.
    “I know your theory，” said Lily， and she sounded cold. “Why are you so obsessed with them anyway？ Why do you care what they‘re doing at night？”
    “I‘m just trying to show you they’re not as wonderful as everyone seems to think they are.”
    The intensity of his gaze made her blush.
    “They don‘t use Dark Magic， though.” She dropped her voice. “And you’re being really ungrateful. I heard what happened the other night. You went sneaking down that tunnel by the Whomping Willow， and James Potter saved you from whatever‘s down there – ”
    Snape‘s whole face contorted and he spluttered， “Saved？ Saved？ You think he was playing the hero？ He was saving his neck and his friends’ too！ You‘re not going to – I won’t let you – ”
    “Let me？ Let me？”
    Lily‘s bright green eyes were slits. Snape backtracked at once.
    “I didn‘t m ean – I just don’t want to see you made a fool of – He fancies you，James Potter fancies you！” The words seemed wrenched from him against his will. “And he‘s not…everyone thinks…big Quidditch hero – ” Snape’s bitterness and dislike were rendering him incoherent， and Lily‘s eyebrows were traveling farther and farther up her forehead.
    “I know James Potter‘s an arrogant toerag，” she said， cutting across Snape. “I don’t need you to tell me that. But Mulciber‘s and Avery’s idea of humor is just evil. Evil，Sev. I don‘t understand how you can be friends with them.”
    Harry doubted that Snape had even heard her strictures on Mulciber and Avery. The moment she had insulted James Potter， his whole body had relaxed， and as they walked away there was a new spring in Snape‘s step…
    And the scene dissolved…
    Harry watched again as Snape left the Great Hall after sitting his O.W.L. in Defense Against the Dark Arts， watched as he wandered away from the castle and strayed inadvertently close to the place beneath the beech tree where James， Sirius， Lupin， and Pettigrew sat together. But Harry kept his distance this time， because he knew what happened after James had hoisted Severus into the air and taunted him； he knew what had been done and said， and it gave him no pleasure to hear it again… He watched as Lily joined the group and went to Snape‘s defense. Distantly he heard Snape shout at her in his humiliation and his fury， the unforgivable word： “Mudblood.”
    The scene changed…
    “I‘m sorry.”
    “I‘m not interested.”
    “I‘m sorry！”
    “Save your breath”
    It was nighttime. Lily， who was wearing a dressing gown， stood with her arms folded in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady， at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.
    “I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here.”
    “I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood， it just – ”
    “Slipped out？” There was no pity in Lily‘s voice. “It’s too late. I‘ve made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends – you see， you don’t even deny it！ You don‘t even deny that’s what you‘re all aiming to be！ You can’t wait to join You-Know-Who， can you？”
    He opened his mouth， but closed it without speaking.
    “I can‘t pretend anymore. You’ve chosen your way， I‘ve chosen mine.”
    “No – listen， I didn‘t mean – ”
    “ – to call me Mudblood？ But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood， Severus. Why should I be any different？”
    He struggled on the verge of speech， but with a contemptuous look she turned and climbed back through the portrait hole…
    The corridor dissolved， and the scene took a little longer to reform： Harry seemed to fly through shifting shapes and colors until his surroundings solidified again and he stood on a hilltop， forlorn and cold in the darkness， the wind whistling through the branches of a few leafless trees. The adult Snape was panting， turning on the spot， his wand gripped tightly in his hand， waiting for something or for someone… His fear infected Harry too， even though he knew that he could not be harmed， and he looked over his shoulder， wondering what it was that Snape was waiting for –
    Then a blinding， jagged jet of white light flew through the air. Harry thought of lightning， but Snape had dropped to his knees and his wand had flown out of his hand.
    “Don‘t kill me！”
    “That was not my intention.”
    Any sound of Dumbledore Apparating had been drowned by the sound of the wind in the branches. He stood before Snape with his robes whipping around him， and his face was illuminated from below in the light cast by his wand.
    “Well， Severus？ What message does Lord Voldemort have for me？”
    “No – no message – I‘m here on my own account！”
    Snape was wringing his hands. He looked a little mad， with his straggling black hair flying around him.
    “I – I come with a warning – no， a request – please – ”
    Dumbledore flicked his wand. Though leaves and branches still flew through the night air around them， silence fell on the spot where he and Snape faced each other.
    “What request could a Death Eater make of me？”
    “The – the prophecy…the prediction…Trelawney…”
    “Ah， yes，” said Dumbledore. “How much did you relay to Lord Voldemort？”
    “Everything – everything I heard！” said Snape. “That is why – it is for that reason– he thinks it means Lily Evans！”
    “The prophecy did not refer to a woman，” said Dumbledore. “It spoke of a boy born at the end of July – ”
    “You know what I mean！ He thinks it means her son， he is going to hunt her down– kill them all – ”
    “If she means so much to you，” said Dumbledore， “surely Lord Voldemort will spare her？ Could you not ask for mercy for the mother， in exchange for the son？”
    “I have – I have asked him – ”
    “You disgust me，” said Dumbledore， and Harry had never heard so much contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to shrink a little， “You do not care， then， about the deaths of her husband and child？ They can die， as long as you have what you want？”
    Snape said nothing， but merely looked up at Dumbledore.
    “Hide them all， then，” he croaked. “Keep her – them – safe. Please.”
    “And what will you give me in return， Severus？”
    “In – in return？” Snape gaped at Dumbledore， and Harry expected him to protest，but after a long moment he said， “Anything.”
    The hilltop faded， and Harry stood in Dumbledore‘s office， and something was making a terrible sound， like a wounded animal. Snape was slumped forward in a chair and Dumbledore was standing over him， looking grim. After a moment or two， Snape raised his face， and he looked like a man who had lived a hundred years of misery since leaving the wild hilltop.
    “I thought…you were going…to keep her…safe…”
    “She and James put their faith in the wrong person，” said Dumbledore. “Rather like you， Severus. Weren‘t you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare her？”
    Snape‘s breathing was shallow.
    “Her boy survives，” said Dumbledore.
    With a tiny jerk of the head， Snape seemed to flick off an irksome fly.
    “Her son lives. He has her eyes， precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color of Lily Evans‘s eyes， I am sure？”
    “DON‘T！” bellowed Snape. “Gone…dead…”
    “Is this remorse， Severus？”
    “I wish…I wish I were dead…”
    “And what use would that be to anyone？” said Dumbledore coldly. “If you loved Lily Evans， if you truly loved her， then your way forward is clear.”
    Snape seemed to peer through a haze of pain， and Dumbledore‘s words appeared to take a long time to reach him.
    “What – what do you mean？”
    “You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily‘s son.”
    “He does not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone – ”
    “The Dark Lord will return， and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does.”
    There was a long pause， and slowly Snape regained control of himself， mastered his own breathing. At last he said， “Very well. Very well. But never – never tell，Dumbledore！ This must be between us！ Swear it！ I cannot bear…especially Potter‘s son…I want your word！”
    “My word， Severus， that I shall never reveal the best of you？” Dumbledore sighed，looking down into Snape‘s ferocious， anguished face. “If you insist…”
    The office dissolved but re-formed instantly. Snape was pacing up and down in front of Dumbledore.
    “ – mediocre， arrogant as his father， a determined rule-breaker， delighted to find himself famous， attention-seeking and impertinent – ”
    “You see what you expect to see， Severus，” said Dumbledore， without raising his eyes from a copy of Transfiguration Today. “Other teachers report that the boy is modest，likable， and reasonably talented. Personally， I find him an engaging child.”
    Dumbledore turned a page， and said， without looking up， “Keep an eye on Quirrell， won‘t you？”
    A whirl of color， and now everything darkened， and Snape and Dumbledore stood a little apart in the entrance hall， while the last stragglers from the Yule Ball passed them on their way to bed.
    “Well？” murmured Dumbledore.
    “Karkaroff‘s Mark is becoming darker too. He is panicking， he fears retribution；you know how much help he gave the Ministry after the Dark Lord fell.” Snape looked sideways at Dumbledore’s crooked-nosed profile. “Karkaroff intends to flee if the Mark burns.”
    “Does he？” said Dumbledore softly， as Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies came giggling in from the grounds. “And are you tempted to join him？”
    “No，” said Snape， his black eyes on Fleur‘s and Roger’s retreating figures. “I am not such a coward.”
    “No，” agreed Dumbledore. “You are a braver man by far than Igor Karkaroff. You know， I sometimes think we Sort too soon…”
    He walked away， leaving Snape looking stricken…
    And now Harry stood in the headmaster‘s office yet again. It was nighttime， and Dumbledore sagged sideways in the thronelike chair behind the desk， apparently semiconscious. His right hand dangled over the side， blackened and burned. Snape was muttering incantations， pointing his wand at the wrist of the hand， while with his left hand he tipped a goblet full of thick golden potion down Dumbledore’s throat. After a moment or two， Dumbledore‘s eyelids fluttered and opened.
    “Why，” said Snape， without preamble， “why did you put on that ring？ It carries a curse， surely you realized that. Why even touch it？”
    Marvolo Gaunt‘s ring lay on the desk before Dumbledore. It was cracked； the sword of Gryffindor lay beside it.
    Dumbledore grimaced.
    “I…was a fool. Sorely tempted…”
    “Tempted by what？”
    Dumbledore did not answer.
    “It is a miracle you managed to return here！” Snape sounded furious. “That ring carried a curse of extraordinary power， to contain it is all we can hope for； I have trapped the curse in one hand for the time being – ”
    Dumbledore raised his blackened， useless hand， and examined it with the expression of one being shown an interesting curio.
    “You have done very well， Severus. How long do you think I have？”
    Dumbledore‘s tone was conversational； he might have been asking for a weather forecast. Snape hesitated， and then said， “I cannot tell. Maybe a year. There is no halting such a spell forever. It will spread eventually， it is the sort of curse that strengthens over time.”
    Dumbledore smiled. The news that he had less than a year to live seemed a matter of little or no concern to him.
    “I am fortunate， extremely fortunate， that I have you， Severus.”
    “If you had only summoned me a little earlier， I might have been able to do more，buy you more time！” said Snape furiously. He looked down at the broken ring and the sword. “Did you think that breaking the ring would break the curse？”
    “Something like that…I was delirious， no doubt…” said Dumbledore. With an effort he straightened himself in his chair. “Well， really， this makes matters much more straightforward.”
    Snape looked utterly perplexed. Dumbledore smiled.
    “I refer to the plan Lord Voldemort is revolving around me. His plan to have the poor Malfoy boy murder me.”
    Snape sat down in the chair Harry had so often occupied， across the desk from Dumbledore. Harry could tell that he wanted to say more on the subject of Dumbledore‘s cursed hand， but the other held it up in polite refusal to discuss the matter further. Scowling， Snape said， “The Dark Lord does not expect Draco to succeed. This is merely
    punishment for Lucius‘s recent failures. Slow torture for Draco’s parents， while they watch him fail and pay the price.“
    “In short， the boy has had a death sentence pronounced upon him as surely as I have，” said Dumbledore. “Now， I should have thought the natural successor to the job，once Draco fails， is yourself？”
    There was a short pause.
    “That， I think， is the Dark Lord‘s plan.”
    “Lord Voldemort foresees a moment in the near future when he will not need a spy at Hogwarts？”
    “He believes the school will soon be in his grasp， yes.”
    “And if it does fall into his grasp，” said Dumbledore， almost， it seemed， as an aside， “I have your word that you will do all in your power to protect the students at Hogwarts？”
    Snape gave a stiff nod.
    “Good. Now then. Your first priority will be to discover what Draco is up to. A frightened teenage boy is a danger to others as well as to himself. Offer him help and guidance， he ought to accept， he likes you – ”
    “ – much less since his father has lost favor. Draco blames me， he thinks I have usurped Lucius‘s position.”
    “All the same， try. I am concerned less for myself than for accidental victims of whatever schemes might occur to the boy. Ultimately， of course， there is only one thing to be done if we are to save him from Lord Voldemort‘s wrath.”
    Snape raised his eyebrows and his tone was sardonic as he asked， “Are you intending to let him kill you？”
    “Certainly not. You must kill me.”
    There was a long silence， broken only by an odd clicking noise. Fawkes the phoenix was gnawing a bit of cuttlebone.
    “Would you like me to do it now？” asked Snape， his voice heavy with irony. “Or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph？”
    “Oh， not quite yet，” said Dumbledore， smiling. “I daresay the moment will present itself in due course. Given what has happened tonight，” he indicated his withered hand，“we can be sure that it will happen within a year.”
    “If you don‘t mind dying，” said Snape roughly， “why not let Draco do it？”
    “That boy‘s soul is not yet so damaged，” said Dumbledore. “I would not have it ripped apart on my account.”
    “And my soul， Dumbledore？ Mine？”
    “You alone know whether it will harm your soul to help an old man avoid pain and humiliation，” said Dumbledore. “I ask this one great favor of you， Severus， because death is coming for me as surely as the Chudley Cannons will finish bottom of this year‘s league. I confess I should prefer a quick， painless exit to the protracted and messy affair it will be if， for instance， Greyback is involved – I hear Voldemort has recruited him？ Or dear Bellatrix， who likes to play with her food before she eats it.”
    His tone was light， but his blue eyes pierced Snape as they had frequently pierced Harry， as though the soul they discussed was visible to him. At last Snape gave another curt nod.
    Dumbledore seemed satisfied.
    “Thank you， Severus…”
    The office disappeared， and now Snape and Dumbledore were strolling together in the deserted castle grounds by twilight.
    “What are you doing with Potter， all these evenings you are closeted together？”
    Snape asked abruptly.
    Dumbledore looked weary.
    “Why？ You aren‘t trying to give him more detentions， Severus？ The boy will soon have spent more time in detention than out.”
    “He is his father over again – ”
    “In looks， perhaps， but his deepest nature is much more like his mother‘s. I spend time with Harry because I have things to discuss with him， information I must give him before it is too late.”
    “Information，” repeated Snape. “You trust him…you do not trust me.”
    “It is not a question of trust. I have， as we both know， limited time. It is essential that I give the boy enough information for him to do what he needs to do.”
    “And why may I not have the same information？”
    “I prefer not to put all of my secrets in one basket， particularly not a basket that spends so much time dangling on the arm of Lord Voldemort.”
    “Which I do on your orders！”
    “And you do it extremely well. Do not think that I underestimate the constant danger in which you place yourself， Severus. To give Voldemort what appears to be valuable information while withholding the essentials is a job I would entrust to nobody but you.”
    “Yet you confide much more in a boy who is incapable of Occlumency， whose magic is mediocre， and who has a direct connection into the Dark Lord‘s mind！”
    “Voldemort fears that connection，” said Dumbledore. “Not so long ago he had one small taste of what truly sharing Harry‘s mind means to him. It was pain such as he has never experienced. He will not try to possess Harry again， I am sure of it. Not in that way.”
    “I don‘t understand.”
    “Lord Voldemort‘s soul， maimed as it is， cannot bear close contact with a soul like Harry’s. Like a tongue on frozen steel， like flesh in flame – ”
    “Souls？ We were talking of minds！”
    “In the case of Harry and Lord Voldemort， to speak of one is to speak of the other.”
    Dumbledore glanced around to make sure that they were alone. They were close by the Forbidden Forest now， but there was no sign of anyone near them.
    “After you have killed me， Severus – ”
    “You refuse to tell me everything， yet you expect that small service of me！”
    snarled Snape， and real anger flared in the thin face now. “You take a great deal for granted， Dumbledore！ Perhaps I have changed my mind！”
    “You gave me your word， Severus. And while we are talking about services you owe me， I thought you agreed to keep a close eye on our young Slytherin friend？”
    Snape looked angry， mutinous. Dumbledore sighed.
    “Come to my office tonight， Severus， at eleven， and you shall not complain that I have no confidence in you…”
    They were back in Dumbledore‘s office， the windows dark， and Fawkes sat silent as Snape sat quite still， as Dumbledore walked around him， talking.
    “Harry must not know， not until the last moment， not until it is necessary，otherwise how could he have the strength to do what must be done？”
    “But what must he do？”
    “That is between Harry and me. Now listen closely， Severus. There will come a time – after my death – do not argue， do not interrupt！ There will come a time when Lord Voldemort will seem to fear for the life of his snake.”
    “For Nagini？” Snape looked astonished.
    “Precisely. If there comes a time when Lord Voldemort stops sending that snake forth to do his bidding， but keeps it safe beside him under magical protection， then， I think， it will be safe to tell Harry.”
    “Tell him what？”
    Dumbledore took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
    “Tell him that on the night Lord Voldemort tried to kill him， when Lily cast her own life between them as a shield， the Killing Curse rebounded upon Lord Voldemort，and a fragment of Voldemort‘s soul was blasted apart from the whole， and latched itself onto the only living soul left in that collapsed building. Part of Lord Voldemort lives inside Harry， and it is that which gives him the power of speech with snakes， and a connection with Lord Voldemort’s mind that he has never understood. And while that fragment of soul， unmissed by Voldemort， remains attached to and protected by Harry，Lord Voldemort cannot die.”
    Harry seemed to be watching the two men from one end of a long tunnel， they were so far away from him， their voices echoing strangely in his ears.
    “So the boy…the boy must die？” asked Snape quite calmly.
    “And Voldemort himself must do it， Severus. That is essential.”
    Another long silence. Then Snape said， “I thought…all those years…that we were protecting him for her. For Lily.”
    “We have protected him because it has been essential to teach him， to raise him，to let him try his strength，” said Dumbledore， his eyes still tight shut. “Meanwhile， the connection between them grows ever stronger， a parasitic growth. Sometimes I have thought he suspects it himself. If I know him， he will have arranged matters so that when he does set out to meet his death， it will truly mean the end of Voldemort.”
    Dumbledore opened his eyes. Snape looked horrified.
    “You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment？”
    “Don‘t be shocked， Severus. How many men and women have you watched die？”
    “Lately， only those whom I could not save，” said Snape. He stood up. “You have used me.”
    “Meaning？”
    “I have spied for you and lied for you， put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter‘s son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter – ”
    “But this is touching， Severus，” said Dumbledore seriously. “Have you grown to care for the boy， after all？”
    “For him？” shouted Snape. “Expecto Patronum！”
    From the tip of his wand burst the silver doe. She landed on the office floor，bounded once across the office， and soared out of the window. Dumbledore watched her fly away， and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to Snape， and his eyes were full of tears.
    “After all this time？”
    “Always，” said Snape.
    And the scene shifted. Now， Harry saw Snape talking to the portrait of Dumbledore behind his desk.
    “You will have to give Voldemort the correct date of Harry‘s departure from his aunt and uncle’s，” said Dumbledore. “Not to do so will raise suspicion， when Voldemort believes you so well informed. However， you must plant the idea of decoys； that， I think，ought to ensure Harry‘s safety. Try Confunding Mundungus Fletcher. And Severus， if you are forced to take part in the chase， be sure to act your part convincingly…I am counting upon you to remain in Lord Voldemort’s good books as long as possible， or Hogwarts will be left to the mercy of the Carrows…”
    Now Snape was head to head with Mundungus in an unfamiliar tavern，Mundungus‘s face looking curiously blank， Snape frowning in concentration.
    “You will suggest to the Order of the Phoenix，” Snape murmured， “that they use decoys. Polyjuice Potion. Identical Potters. It‘s the only thing that might work. You will forget that I have suggested this. You will present it as your own idea. You understand？”
    “I understand，” murmured Mundungus， his eyes unfocused…
    Now Harry was flying alongside Snape on a broomstick through a clear dark night： He was accompanied by other hodded Death Eaters， and ahead were Lupin and a Harry who was really George… A Death Eater moved ahead of Snape and raised his wand， pointing it directly at Lupin‘s back.
    “Sectumsempra！” shouted Snape.
    But the spell， intended for the Death Eater‘s wand hand， missed and hit George instead –
    And next， Snape was kneeling in Sirius‘s old bedroom. Tears were dripping from the end of his hooked nose as he read the old letter from Lily. The second page carried only a few words：
    could ever have been friends with Gellert Grindelwald. I think her mind‘s going，personally！
    Lots of love，
    Lily
    Snape took the page bearing Lily‘s signature， and her love， and tucked it inside his robes. Then he ripped in two the photograph he was also holding， so that he kept the part from which Lily laughed， throwing the portion showing James and Harry back onto the floor， under the chest of drawers…
    And now Snape stood again in the headmaster‘s study as Phineas Nigellus came hurrying into his portrait.
    “Headmaster！ They are camping in the Forest of Dean！ The Mudblood – ”
    “Do not use that word！”
    “ – the Granger girl， then， mentioned the place as she opened her bag and I heard her！”
    “Good. Very good！” cried the portrait of Dumbledore behind the headmaster‘s chair. “Now， Severus， the sword！ Do not forget that it must be taken under conditions of need and valor – and he must not know that you give it！ If Voldemort should read Harry’s mind and see you acting for him – ”
    “I know，” said Snape curtly. He approached the portrait of Dumbledore and pulled at its side. It swung forward， revealing a hidden cavity behind it from which he took the sword of Gryffindor.
    “And you still aren‘t going to tell me why it’s so important to give Potter the sword？” said Snape as he swung a traveling cloak over his robes.
    “No， I don‘t think so，” said Dumbledore’s portrait. “He will know what to do with it. And Severus， be very careful， they may not take kindly to your appearance after George Weasley‘s mishap – ”
    Snape turned at the door.
    “Don‘t worry， Dumbledore，” he said coolly. “I have a plan…”
    And Snape left the room. Harry rose up out of the Pensieve， and moments later he lay on the carpeted floor in exactly the same rooms Snape might just have closed the door.
哈利仍旧跪在斯内普旁边，直直盯着他，直到有个高高在上的冷酷声音突然在他耳边说起话来。哈利跳起来，把那只小瓶紧紧攥在手里，他以为伏地魔又回到房间来了。

　　伏地魔的声音在墙壁和地板之间回荡着，哈利这才意识到他是在对着霍格沃茨及其周边所有地区说话，这样一来霍格莫德的人和仍旧在城堡中激战的人们也能听得一清二楚，他的呼吸声如同在他们脖子后面一样。

　　那个高高冷酷的声音说：“你们战斗得很英勇，伏地魔大人知道如何褒奖勇士。”

　　“但是你们也遭受了惨重的损失，如果继续抵抗我，那你们一个个都要死。我不希望发生这种事情，巫师的血白流一滴出来都是一种浪费和损失。”

　　“伏地魔大人非常仁慈，我将下令我的部队立刻撤退。”

　　“给你们一个小时的时间，安置尸体，处理伤员。”

　　“现在我特别要跟哈利?波特说句话。你总让你的朋友去送死而不肯亲自面对我。我会在禁林中等一个小时，如果时间到了你还没有来见我，还不来投降，那时我就亲自出手了，哈利?波特，我会找到你，我会惩罚每一个试图把你藏起来的男人女人或孩子。你只有一个小时！”

　　罗恩和赫敏朝哈利拼命摇头。

　　“别听他的！”罗恩说道。

　　“没事的！”赫敏粗暴地说，“我们……我们回城堡去，如果他去禁林了拿我们就得想个新对策——”

　　她瞥了一眼斯内普的尸体，然后匆忙回到入口处。罗恩跟在她后面，哈利捡起隐身衣，朝下看着斯内普。除了被斯内普的死状和死因惊吓到以外，他什么也感觉不到。

　　他们顺着通道爬了回来，谁也没说话，哈利不知道罗恩和赫敏是否也和自己一样，脑海里还存留着伏地魔刚才的话的回声。

　　“你总让你的朋友去送死也不肯亲自面对我，我会在禁林等你一个小时……只有一个小时！”

　　城堡前面的草坪上一片狼藉，距离天亮大概还有一小时，四周却仍一片漆黑。他们三个人奋力跑向石阶。只有一只小船那么大小的狗被丢弃在他们面前，丝毫没有格洛普或他对手的影子。

　　城堡中一片不同寻常的死寂。现在闪光、爆炸声、惨叫和吼声都平息下来了。废弃的大厅入口处的石板上血迹斑斑。地上仍旧洒满了绿宝石，还有大理石和木头碎片。一部分楼梯栏杆也被摧毁了。

　　“大家都到哪儿去了？”赫敏小声说。

　　罗恩带路朝大会堂走去。哈利在门口停住了。

　　所有学院的长桌都被搬走了，屋子里挤满了人。活着的人扎堆站着，用手臂互相搂着脖子。庞弗雷夫人和助手们把伤员们抬到平台上救治。费伦泽也在伤员之中，他腰部一侧的伤口中不停地流着血，他躺在那里抽搐着，再也站不起来了。

　　牺牲的人被排成一排放在大厅中间。哈利看不见费雷德的尸体，因为他全家人把他团团围住了。乔治跪在他的前面，韦斯利太太趴在费雷德胸前，浑身颤抖着。韦斯利先生轻抚着她的头发，泪如泉涌。

　　罗恩和赫敏没跟哈利打招呼就走开了。哈利看见赫敏走到满脸肿胀血污的金妮身边拥抱她。罗恩和比尔、芙蓉、帕西在一起，他们搂着他的肩膀。金妮和赫敏朝家里人走过去时，哈利认出了费雷德身边的尸体。莱姆斯和唐克斯面色惨白的躺在那儿，安静得像是睡着了一般，他们头顶是黑沉沉的被施了魔法的天花板。

　　当哈利跌跌撞撞的从门口走回来时，原来那个大会堂忽然不见了，它变得狭小，好像萎缩了一样。他感到呼吸困难。他不敢再去看别的尸体，不敢再去看究竟还有谁为他而死。他也不敢去和韦斯利一家说话，不敢去看他们的眼睛，如果他一开始就站出来的话，弗雷德也许就不会死了……

　　他转身跑上了大理石楼梯。卢平、唐克斯……他不能再想了……他几乎想要把心拽出来，把所有内脏都拽出来，他身体内一直有什么在尖叫着……

　　城堡里空无一人了，甚至连鬼魂们也在大会堂里跟着一起哀悼死者。哈利一口气跑到校长办公室门口的滴水兽石像前才停下来，手里攥着装有斯内普记忆的瓶子。

　　“密码？”

　　“邓布利多！”哈利想也没想就这么喊道，因为他现在唯一能想到的就是邓布利多了。而令他吃惊的是，滴水兽竟然真的滑向了一边，露出身后的螺旋状楼梯。

　　但是当哈利冲进那间圆形的办公室他发现里面有一点变化。墙上挂了一圈的肖像全都空了。一个校长都没剩，可能是他们去拜访城堡其他地方的画像打听消息了。

　　哈利绝望的看了一眼挂在校长座椅后面那幅邓布利多肖像的空荡荡的画框，然后转过身。冥想盆还在柜子里的老地方。哈利把冥想盆端到桌子上，将斯内普的记忆倒进边上刻着古文字的盆里。躲进别人的大脑是件解脱……即便是斯内普的记忆也比他自己的那些强些。闪动着奇异的银白色光芒的记忆在盆里打旋转动着，哈里带着一种不管不顾毫不犹豫地把头浸入盆中，好像这样就可以暂时减轻痛苦。

　　他头朝前掉进一片阳光中，脚下是一片温暖的土地。等他站直身子，发现自己置身一个几乎废弃的操场上。遥远的天际只能看到一只巨大的烟囱。两个女孩正在来回荡秋千，一个瘦骨嶙峋的男孩躲在灌木丛后面看着她们。他的黑头发太长了，衣服很不合体，牛仔裤太短，衬衫像样式奇怪的罩衫，破烂的外衣显然是成年人穿的。

　　哈利靠近那男孩。那个时候的斯内普看上去决超不过九岁或十岁，面有菜色，矮小瘦弱。当他看着其中那个比较小的女孩荡得比姐姐越来越高时，瘦削的脸上有种难掩的渴望。

　　“莉莉，别那样！”年长一点的女孩叫道。

　　但是莉莉在秋千荡到最高点时，飞了起来，冲向天空时还发出大笑，然后她并没有掉到地上摔惨，而是像个秋千大师般在空中滑过，停留了那么久，落地时又那么轻。

　　“妈妈告诉过你别那样！”

　　佩尼用凉鞋的鞋跟触地停下了秋千，发出嘎嘎的摩擦声，然后跳起来，把手放在屁股上。

　　“妈妈说不许你那样，莉莉！”

　　“但是我没出事啊。”莉莉还是咯咯笑，“佩尼，看，看我能做这个！”

　　佩尼四下扫视了一圈，操场上除了她们还有她们并不知道的斯内普。莉莉从斯内普藏身德灌木丛中捡起一朵凋谢的花。佩尼向前走了两步，带着好奇和审视的态度。莉莉等她靠近能看清楚后，张开了手掌，那朵花在她的掌心一开一合，像是只有许多开口的奇怪牡蛎。

　　“快停下！”佩尼高叫。

　　“这也没伤到你呀。”莉莉合上手掌把花扔回地上。

　　“这是不对的！”佩尼说道，但是她的视线却跟着那朵掉落到地上的花，始终没有移开。“你怎么能做到的？”她追问道，声音里显然有一种向往。

　　“很明显，不是吗？”斯内普忍不住从灌木丛后面跳了出来。佩尼叫了一声，跑回到秋千那儿去了。但是莉莉虽然也被吓了一跳，却没有动。斯内普看起来对自己的出现感到有些抱歉，他看着莉莉，菜色的脸上渐渐涌起一阵红潮。

　　“什么很明显？”莉莉问道。

　　斯内普显得激动又紧张。他看了一眼在秋千处徘徊的佩尼，放低了声音说：“我知道你是什么人。”

　　“你什么意思？”

　　“你是……你是一个女巫。”斯内普小声说。

　　她看上去像是被冒犯了。

　　“那可不是一个好词！”

　　她转过身，昂起头，大步走回到姐姐的身边。

　　“不！”斯内普说道，他的脸红极了。哈利不明白他为什么不脱掉外面那件滑稽的外衣，除非是由于他不想把里面那件罩衫暴露出来。他追上去，宽大的外套像蝙蝠般上下扇动着，就像后来成年的他一样。

　　那对姐妹想了想，一致表示不相信他，她们抱着支撑秋千的一根柱子不放，好像那里是个安全之所。

　　“你是！”斯内普对莉莉说。“你是一个女巫！我看了你好一会儿了，但是那并没什么，我妈妈就是个女巫，而我也是一个巫师！”

　　“巫师！”她叫道。现在她从他意外出现带来的震惊中恢复过来了，“我知道你是谁了！你是那个斯内普家的孩子！他们住在河边的蜘蛛尾巷子头上！”她告诉莉莉。那种语调表示她觉得那个地址就是着恶劣的象征。“你为什么监视我们？”

　　“我没有监视！”斯内普说道，阳光下他又热又不自在，头发脏兮兮的。“我再怎么也不会监视你的！”他恶狠狠的说：“你是个麻瓜！”

　　即便佩尼不明白麻瓜是什么，从语调中她也能听出对方的意思。

　　“莉莉，我们走！”她尖声说。莉莉立刻听话离开了，边走边盯着斯内普。他看着她们大步穿过操场大门，哈利发现他脸上全都是苦涩的失望神情，同时也明白了斯内普计划着这一刻好久了，只是一切都搞砸了……

　　这一段情景消失了，并且在哈利意识到之前又重组出另外一番景象。他正站在一个小树丛中，透过树木能看见闪着金光的河水。树冠在地上洒下绿色阴凉，两个孩子盘腿面对面坐在地上。斯内普把外衣脱掉了，在光线阴暗处他那件滑稽的罩衫显得不那么古怪了。

　　“……如果你在校外用魔法，魔法部会惩罚你的，你就会收到传讯信。”

　　“但是我已经在学校外用魔法了呀！”

　　“我们没关系，我们还没有魔杖呢！孩子总是忍不住嘛，所以他们不追究。但是一旦你十一岁了，”他重重的点头道，“他们开始教你魔法，那时就得小心了。”

　　一阵很短的沉默。莉莉捡起一根小树枝，在半空中转圈挥动，哈利知道她在想象魔杖尖端发出来的光芒。然后她扔掉了树枝，凑到斯内普跟前说：“这肯定是真的，对吧？不是开玩笑？佩尼说你骗我，她说根本没有什么霍格沃茨学院。你说的是真的，对吧？”

　　“对我们来说是真的。”斯内普说。“对她来说不是。但是我们会收到入学通知的，你和我！”

　　“真的？”莉莉小声说。

　　“那当然！”斯内普说道。不顾自己的糟糕发型和滑稽衣服，以一种令人难忘的怪姿势四脚朝天躺在莉莉面前，脸上挂满对未来的自信。

　　“那信真的会是猫头鹰送来吗？”莉莉小声说。

　　“通常都是。”斯内普说，“但是你生在麻瓜家里，所以学校里会有人去跟你父母解释一下。”

　　“生不生在麻瓜家区别很大吗？”

　　斯内普犹豫了一下，他的黑眼睛里的深深阴郁，从苍白的脸移到深红头发上。

　　他说：“不，没有什么区别。”

　　“那就好。”莉莉松了口气，很明显她一直在担心。

　　“你会好多魔法呢。”斯内普说，“我看见了，我一直在看你……”

　　他的声音低了下去，然而她并没在听，而是躺在铺满落叶的地上，向上望着满树绿茵。他像在操场上那天一样向往地看着她。

　　“你家里怎么样了？”莉莉问道。

　　他的眼睛里仿佛出现了一道裂痕。

　　“很好。”他说。

　　“他们没再吵架吗？”

　　“哦，是的，他们一直吵。”斯内普说道。他抓起一大把树叶子，撕得粉碎，显然他并没意识到自己正在干嘛。“但是也吵不长了，我会离开家的。”

　　“你把爸爸不喜欢魔法吧？”

　　“他什么都不喜欢……得那么深。”斯内普说。

　　“西弗勒斯！”

　　她叫他名字的时候，斯内普嘴角浮现一个微小的笑涡。

　　“什么？”

　　“再跟我说说摄魂怪的事！”

　　“你想知道什么？”

　　“如果我在学校外面用魔法……”

　　“他们不会因为那个就把你丢给摄魂怪的！摄魂怪是惩罚那些真干了坏事的人的。他们守卫着魔法世界的阿兹卡班监狱。你不会进阿兹卡班的，你太……”

　　他的脸又红了，更加用力撕手中的叶子。忽然哈利听见身后传来一阵轻微的沙沙声，他回头，看到藏在树后的佩尼露出了形迹。

　　“佩尼！”莉莉惊讶的说道，声音里也有欢迎的味道，但斯内普则蹦了起来。

　　“现在是谁监视谁了？”他喊道，“你想干什么？”

　　被逮个正着的佩尼警觉的喘着气。哈利觉得她是费了好大力气才说出那一串伤人的话的。

　　“看看你穿的都是什么呀？”她指着斯内普胸前说道：“你妈妈的衬衫？”

　　咔嚓一声响。佩尼头上的一根枝干落了下来，莉莉惊叫，那条枝子打在佩尼的肩膀上，她踉跄着后退，大哭起来。

　　“佩尼！”

　　但是佩尼已经跑走了，莉莉质问斯内普：“是你干的吗？”

　　“不是。”他看上去即傲慢又恐慌。

　　“就是你干的！”她向后退去，“就是你！你伤害她了！”

　　“不——我没有！”

　　但是谎言没有说服莉莉。狠狠瞪了斯内普一眼，她跑出小树丛追姐姐去了，留下了迷惑又痛苦的斯内普。

　　场景又重组了。哈利环视四周，他正在九又四分之三月台上，斯内普站在他身旁，微微有点驼背，身边是个和他一样面黄肌瘦相貌苦涩的女人。斯内普正盯着不远处的一家子看，那家的两个女孩子跟父母站得有点远，莉莉看起来正在求姐姐。哈利走过去听她们说些什么。

　　“对不起，佩尼，对不起，听着——”她抓住姐姐的手紧紧握住，佩尼用力想要把手拽出来。“可能我一到那儿——不，听着佩尼，我一到那儿就去找邓不利多教授，劝他改变主意！”

　　“我——不——要——去！”佩尼说道，把手从妹妹那儿拽出来，“你以为我想去什么愚蠢的城堡学做……”

　　她暗淡的目光越过站台，猫咪们在主人臂弯里瞄瞄叫着，猫头鹰在笼子中振翅鸮叫，有些学生已经换上了黑色长袍，有的在往喷着红色蒸汽的机车上搬行李，有的在暑假分别后互相高兴的打着招呼。

　　“——你觉得我想当——怪胎？”

　　莉莉的眼里充满了泪水，她的手终于被佩尼拽开了。

　　“我不是怪胎！”莉莉说道：“那个词太可怕了。”

　　“那就是你要去的地方。”佩尼带着某种深意说道，“就是个怪胎学校，你和斯内普家那个男孩……都是怪胎，把你们和正常人分开来正好，省得我们不安全。”

　　莉莉朝自己的父母看了一眼，她的父母正在环视站台四周，看上去正享受着这里的气氛。然后她回头看姐姐，重重的低声说道：

　　“你写信给我们校长求他收你做学生时可不觉得那是个怪胎学校吧？”

　　佩尼满脸通红。“求？我没求他！”

　　“我看见他的回信了，他人很好。”

　　“你不应该看——”佩尼低声说，“那是我的隐私……你怎么能……”

　　莉莉朝斯内普小小的一瞥让佩尼恍然大悟。

　　“是他找到的！你和他在我房间里鬼鬼祟祟干坏事！”

　　“不！没有鬼鬼祟祟——”莉莉分辩道，“西弗勒斯看见了信封，他不信麻瓜可以写信到霍格沃茨，就这样！他说邮局肯定有乔装成麻瓜的巫师来保证……”

　　“显然巫师们把触角伸到每个角落了！”佩尼说道，她脸色苍白的程度就像刚才脸红得那么厉害。“怪胎！”她打了妹妹一巴掌，然后跳下站台回到父母身边去了。

　　这段场景又模糊了。接下来是斯内普在驰骋乡间的霍格沃茨快车车厢间匆匆走过。他已经换上了校服长袍，可能这是他头一次有机会换下那些可怕的麻瓜衣服。后来他在一个车厢门口停下来，里面有一群吵闹的男孩在说话。莉莉坐在靠窗的角落里，把脸贴在窗玻璃上。

　　斯内普拉开车厢门坐到莉莉对面。她看了他一眼，又转过头去看窗外，她一直在哭。

　　“我不想跟你说话。”她的声音紧绷着。

　　“为什么？”

　　“佩尼她，她恨，恨我。因为我们看了她给邓不利多的信。”

　　“那又怎么样？”

　　她用极其厌恶的眼神看着他。

　　“她是我的姐姐！”

　　“她只是个——”他很快闭嘴，而莉莉由于急着擦眼泪，没有注意到他说了什么。

　　“但是我们要去！”他难言兴奋的说道，“就这样，我们就要到霍格沃茨了！”

　　她点点头，擦擦眼睛，不管怎么样，还是勉强笑了笑。

　　“你最好进斯莱特林学院！”斯内普说，由于她心情好了点而备受鼓舞。

　　“斯莱特林学院？”

　　车厢里有个男孩本来对斯内普和莉莉没有任何兴趣，直到听见这个词，才把目光移过来。哈利之前把注意力都集中在车窗边的两人身上，此刻他看见，自己父亲那头浅黑色头发跟斯内普有点像，然而他脸上那种娇生惯养的气色，是斯内普绝对不会有的。

　　“谁想进斯莱特林学院？我看我还是离开这儿吧，你不走吗？”詹姆微笑着问懒洋洋躺在他对面的男孩。哈利意识到那是小天狼星，但是小天狼星没有笑。

　　“我全家都是斯莱特林学院的”,他说

　　“哎呀！”詹姆说，“我看你也一定是！”

　　小天狼星咧嘴笑了。

　　“也许我会打破这个传统。要是让你选，你想进哪个学院？”

　　詹姆凭空作了一个抽剑的动作。

　　“格兰芬多，勇士成堆的学院！跟我爸爸一样！”

　　斯内普带着小小的轻蔑哼了声。詹姆扭头看着他。

　　“你觉得有什么不妥吗？”

　　“没有，”斯内普说道，虽然他那小小的讥笑明显不是这个意思，“只要你甘愿当个四肢发达头脑简单的家伙……”

　　“那你想进哪个学院呢？看起来你好像四肢不发达头脑也很简单。”小天狼星插话了。

　　詹姆大笑，莉莉站了起来，脸更红了，厌恶的看着詹姆和天狼星。

　　“走吧，西弗勒斯，我们另找个车厢。”

　　“噢噢噢噢噢噢……”

　　詹姆和天狼星模仿着她的冷傲语调，詹姆在斯内普经过自己跟前时试图绊倒他。

　　“回头见，鼻涕精！”一个声音喊道，车门砰的关闭。

　　这个场景又一次模糊消失了。

　　哈利站在斯内普身后，他们面前是被烛光照亮的学院长桌，桌边是一排排全神贯注的脸。然后麦格教授叫道：“莉莉?伊万斯！”

　　他看见自己的母亲颤抖着双腿向前走去，坐到凳子上。麦格教授把分院帽放在她的头上，帽子触到那头深红色头发还不到一秒钟就喊道：“格兰芬多！”

　　哈利听见斯内普发出一声轻微的叹息。莉莉摘下帽子交回麦格教授手中，然后急忙跑向正在欢呼的格兰芬多学生们，但是同时她回头看了斯内普一眼，脸上带着小小的苦笑。哈利看见天狼星站起来给她让座，她看了看他，认出他就是火车上那人，于是抱着双臂坚决一扭脸，只把后背对着他了。

　　排队点名在继续。哈利看见卢平、小矮星彼得和自己的父亲都被分到格兰芬多学院了。最后，只剩下十几个学生有待分配，麦格教授终于叫到了斯内普的名字。

　　哈利跟着他一起走到凳子跟前，看着他把分院帽戴在头上,“斯莱特林！”分院帽喊道。

　　西弗勒斯?斯内普走到大厅的另一边，远离了莉莉，斯莱特林的学生拼命冲他欢呼，他坐到卢修斯?马尔福身边，对方轻拍他的后背，胸前的级长徽章闪耀不停。

　　然后场景变了……

　　莉莉和斯内普走在城堡大院里，显然在争吵。哈利急忙追上去听。等他追到跟前，才意识到那两人长高了许多。看来距离分院那个时候已经过去好几年了。

　　“……你觉得我们本来应该是朋友？”是斯内普在说话。“最好的朋友？”

　　“我们现在也是朋友，西弗，可是我不喜欢你跟着整天鬼混的那群人！对不起，但是我的确很讨厌艾弗里和穆尔塞伯！穆尔塞伯！他是什么人啊，西弗，他是个恶心的虫子！你知道有一天他要对玛丽?麦克唐纳做什么吗？”

　　莉莉走到一根柱子前倚在上面，向上看着那张瘦削、菜色的脸。

　　“那不算什么的。”斯内普说，“只是个玩笑，就这样……”

　　“那是黑魔法，如果你觉得那样好玩的话……”

　　“那波特和他几个兄弟的事又算什么呢？”斯内普问道，说话时他的脸又涨红了，看上去简直无法控制内心的憎恶之情。

　　“波特做什么了？”莉莉说。

　　“他们晚上偷偷摸摸溜出去。那个卢平很怪，他一直出去，到什么地方去？”

　　“他病了。”莉莉说，“他们说他病了……”

　　“每当满月的时候就病？”斯内普说。

　　“我知道你那套理论。”莉莉的声音听起来冷冷的。“为什么你总对他们的事感兴趣，为什么你那么想知道他们晚上在干吗？”

　　“我只是想让你知道他们不像所有人说得那么好！”

　　他直勾勾盯着莉莉，让她脸红了。

　　“至少他们没用黑魔法。”她放低了声音，“你真是太忘恩负义了！我听说那天晚上的事了。你偷着跑进打人柳下面的密道，是詹姆?波特把你从那里面救出来的——”

　　斯内普的整个脸都扭曲着，他念叨着：“救了我，救了我，你觉得他是英雄对吧？他是在救他自己的人！你不会——我不让你——”

　　“不让我？不让我干什么？”

　　莉莉明亮的绿眼睛变得狭长，斯内普不由得退了一步。

　　“我不是那个意思……我只是不想让你被耍——他喜欢你，詹姆?波特喜欢你！”这些话好像不受控制的喷了出来，“而且他还……所有人都觉得……魁地奇大英雄——”斯内普的痛苦和憎恨让他语无伦次了，莉莉的眉毛则越挑越高。

　　“我知道詹姆?波特是个自大狂。”她打断了斯内普。“不需要你告诉我这个，但是穆尔塞伯和艾弗里的‘幽默’简直就是邪恶，邪恶！西弗，我不明白你怎么和他们成了朋友。”

　　哈利怀疑斯内普有没有听见她对穆尔塞伯和艾弗里的指责。反正当莉莉说詹姆?波特不好的时候，他的整个身体都放松下来，他们走开时斯内普的脚步中又充满了活力了……

　　然后这个场景消失了……

　　哈利又一次看见普通巫师等级测验的黑魔法防御术考试之后的情景了，他看着斯内普走出来，信步走出城堡，坐在了一棵山毛榉附近，没注意到詹姆、天狼星、卢平和小矮星彼得正好就在那树下。但是哈利这次只是远远看着，因为他知道詹姆把西弗勒斯倒挂起来之后会做什么，他知道发生了什么事，他们说了什么话，他不喜欢再听一遍……他看见莉莉走到四人组那里，然后又替斯内普说话，远远的他听见斯内普又羞又怒的冲她喊那个无法原谅的词：“泥巴种！”

　　场景转换。

　　“对不起。”

　　“我不想听。”

　　“对不起！”

　　“你省省吧！”

　　现在是晚上，莉莉穿着睡袍抱着手臂站在格兰芬多塔入口处的胖女士肖像跟前。

　　“玛丽说你叫嚣要睡在这儿，我才出来的。”

　　“我当时……我真的是……我绝不是故意喊你泥巴种的，我只是……”

　　“说溜嘴了！”莉莉的声音没有一点同情，“太晚了。我给你找了好几年借口了。我的朋友们都不明白我怎么会跟你说话。你和你那帮珍贵的小食死徒朋友们——瞧，你都不否认！你也不否认你要干什么了！你等不及要跟着那个人干了，对吧？”

　　他张了张嘴，但是什么也没说，又闭紧了。

　　“我再也装不下去了，你选了你的路，我也选了我的。”

　　“不——听着，我不是故意……”

　　“——叫我泥巴种对吧？但是你管我的每个朋友都叫泥巴种，西弗勒斯，那我在你眼里又有什么区别呢？”

　　他还在拼命找说辞，然而莉莉轻蔑的看了看他，然后就爬回去了……

　　走廊消失了，记忆场景这次重组花的时间长了点。哈利觉得自己在许多不断变换的形状和颜色间飞行，直到周围固化下来，他已经站在一座小山山顶，周围一片冷冷的夜色。夜风呼啸着从几乎掉光叶子的树枝间吹过。成年斯内普喘息着站在那里，手里紧紧攥着魔杖，像是在等什么人……即使知道自己不会被怎么样，哈利也被他身上流露出的恐惧感染了，越过斯内普的肩膀望去，哈利在猜测他等的是谁……

　　然后一道犀利的眩目白光破空飞来，哈利还以为是闪电。但斯内普双膝跪倒在地，魔杖也脱手飞出。

　　“不要杀我！”

　　“我并没想那么做。”

　　邓不利多移形幻影的声响全都淹没在吹过树枝间的风声中了。他站在斯内普面前，袍子下摆猎猎飘动，他的脸被魔杖发出的光照得发亮。

　　“那么，西弗勒斯，伏地魔大人有什么口信带给我吗？”

　　“不……没有口信——我是为自己的事来的！”

　　斯内普扭搓着双手，散乱的黑发在风中飞舞，他看上去有点癫狂。

　　“我，我来是想警告，不，是请求——求您——”

　　邓不利多轻弹魔杖，虽然叶子和树枝一直在夜风中作响，但他们面对面站着的那块地方却十分安静。

　　“一个食死徒会请求我做什么呢？”

　　“那个，那个预言……特里劳妮教授说的那个预言……”

　　“啊，对了，”邓不利多说道，“关于那个预言你告诉了伏地魔多少？”

　　“所有——我听到的所有！”斯内普说，“这就是为什么——就是因为这个——他想要莉莉?伊万斯！”

　　“那个预言没提到女人。”邓不利多说道，“只提到一个生于七月末的男孩——”

　　“你知道我指的是什么！他认为那就是她的儿子，他要去抓她了，然后把他们都杀了——”

　　“如果她对你来说这么重要，”邓不利多说道，“那伏地魔肯定会饶了她，你能不去为她求情吗，以她的儿子为交换条件？”

　　“我做了——我是这么求他的——”

　　“你让我恶心，”邓不利多说，哈利从未见过他的声音有那么多憎恶。斯内普好像颤抖了一下。“你不关心她丈夫和儿子的性命吧？他们死了，你就得到你想要的了？”

　　斯内普什么也没说，只是直直看着邓不利多。

　　“那就把他们藏起来！”他嘶哑着声音说道，“保证她——他们的安全，求您了！”

　　“那么作为回报你能为我做些什么呢，西弗勒斯？”

　　“回……回报？”斯内普张口结舌的看着邓不利多，哈利本以为他会抗议，然而过了很久之后他说，“我什么都可以做。”

　　山顶的景象褪去了，然后哈利站在了邓布利多的办公室里，他听见一种可怕的声音，像是受伤野兽的哀嚎。斯内普深陷在椅子里，邓布利多站在一旁冷冷俯视着他。过了一会儿，斯内普抬起头，看上去像是在痛苦中过了一百多年。

　　“我以为……你能……保护她……”

　　“她和詹姆信错了人，”邓布利多说道，“比你错得还厉害，西弗勒斯，不能指望着伏地魔能饶了她吧？”

　　斯内普的呼吸变得细弱起来。

　　“她的儿子幸存下来了。”邓布利多说道。

　　斯内普微微抽动了一下，像是赶走了一只恶心的苍蝇。

　　“她的儿子还活着。他一双她的眼睛，一模一样的眼睛。你还记得莉莉?伊万斯的眼睛吧？”

　　“不要！”斯内普咆哮着，“完了……死了……”

　　“你觉得后悔吗，西弗勒斯？”

　　“我宁肯……宁肯死的是我……”

　　“但是现在你这样有什么用呢？”邓布利多冷冷地说，“如果你爱莉莉?伊万斯，如果你真的爱她，那么你以后该走哪条路就很清楚了。”

　　斯内普沉浸在痛苦的阴霾之中，邓布利多的话仿佛经过了很久才传入他耳中。

　　“你——你的意思是？”

　　“你知道她怎么死的，为什么会死，别让她白死。帮我保护她的儿子吧。”

　　“他不需要保护了，黑魔王已经消失了——”

　　“黑魔王会回来的，那时哈利?波特会非常危险。”

　　过了很久，斯内普才重新恢复过来，终于，他说道：“好吧，好吧。但是永远……永远不要告诉别人，邓布利多！这是我们俩之间的秘密！我受不了……尤其是波特的儿子……你发誓！”

　　“你要我发誓，西弗勒斯，永远不把你最真实的一面告诉他？”邓布利多叹了口气，看了看斯内普那张激动痛苦的脸。“如果你坚持的话……”

　　办公室的景象消失又立刻重组起来。斯内普在邓布利多面前来回踱步。

　　“——像他爸爸一样是个庸才，又傲慢自大，爱破坏规矩，爱出风头，鲁莽冲动——”

　　“你对他有偏见，西弗勒斯，”邓布利多从《变形日报》中抬起头来，说道：“别人都说那孩子很谦虚，讨人喜欢，也蛮有天赋的，我个人也觉得他是个有魅力的孩子。”

　　邓布利多翻了一页报纸，头也不抬的说道：“盯着点奇洛好吗？”

　　一片颜色搅动起来，然后周围黑了下来。斯内普和邓布利多站在大厅入口不远处，最后一帮从圣诞舞会出来的人正往宿舍走。

　　“怎么样？”邓布利多咕哝道。

　　“卡卡罗夫的黑魔标记也开始变黑了。他慌成一团了，害怕被算老帐，你知道黑魔王倒台后他帮着魔法部做了多少事。”斯内普从侧面看着邓布利多弯钩鼻子的侧影，“只要黑魔标记亮起来卡卡罗夫就会逃走。”

　　“是吗？”邓布利多轻轻的说，这时芙蓉?德拉库尔和罗杰?戴维斯说笑着从前面走过去了。“那你打算跟他一起逃吗？”

　　“不，”斯内普说道，他的黑眸落在芙蓉和罗杰消失的身影上。“我可不是他那样的懦夫。”

　　“你当然不是，”邓布利多肯定道，“到现在为止你比卡卡罗夫勇敢多了。你知道，我有时觉得我们分院分得太草率了……”他走开了，留下了看上去有些吃惊的斯内普……

　　哈利又站在校长办公室了，现在是晚上，邓布利多侧身跌坐进桌子后面的椅子里，显然正处于半昏迷状态，他的右手垂在一侧，颜色焦黑。斯内普正用魔杖指在那只手的手腕上，念着咒语，同时用左手将满满一杯金色药水灌进邓布利多喉咙里。过了片刻，邓布利多眼帘颤动，睁开了眼睛。

　　“为什么？”斯内普单刀直入的说，“为什么你要戴上那个戒指？那上面被下了咒语，你肯定知道的，那为什么还要碰它？”

　　邓布利多面前的桌子上放着马沃洛?冈特的戒指。戒指断裂了，格兰芬多之剑就放在它旁边。邓布利多面上神色痛苦。“我……挺傻的，我被强烈的诱惑了……”

　　“被什么诱惑了？”

　　邓布利多没有回答。

　　“你还能回到这儿简直就是奇迹！”斯内普似乎很生气，“那枚戒指上被下了极其强大的咒语，只求能控制住它就很不错了，我只能把咒语封闭在你的一只手上一段时间……”

　　邓布利多抬起那只焦黑的废手，那表情好像在看什么有趣的东西。

　　“你已经做得很好了，西弗勒斯，你觉得我还有多长时间？”

　　邓布利多语气很平和，就像在问明天的天气。斯内普犹豫片刻说道：“我也说不准。也许还有一年。没办法除掉这个咒语，早晚会扩散的，它是那种时间越长就越厉害的咒语。”

　　邓布利多笑了。得知自己只有不到一年的命看起来对他没多少打击。

　　“有你在身边我算是幸运的，很幸运了，西弗勒斯。”

　　“如果你早点找我，我可能还能给你争取更多的时间。”斯内普不快的说，他盯着碎裂的戒指和那把剑。“你觉得打碎戒指就能消灭其中的恶咒吗？”

　　“差不多吧……我当时毫无疑问失去意识了……”邓布利多说道。他挣扎着坐直了身体。“那么，这也让以后的事简单多了。”

　　斯内普感到迷惑不解，而邓布利多笑了。“我已经知道了伏地魔在我身边安排了人的计划。他打算让可怜的马尔福那孩子来杀我。”

　　斯内普坐进邓布利多办公桌对面那张哈里经常坐的那张椅子里，哈利觉得他还想继续讨论邓布利多那只废手的问题，然而邓布利多抬起另一只手做了个拒绝再谈的手势。

　　斯内普皱眉说道：“黑魔王并没指望德拉科能够成功，这只是惩罚卢修斯上次的失败而已，让德拉科的父母看着他失手被抓，慢慢的折磨他们。”

　　“那就是说，那孩子跟我一样被判了死刑，”邓布利多说道，“那么一旦德拉科失败了，接替他继续完成任务的人就应该是你吧？”

　　短暂的静默。

　　“我认为那就是黑魔王的计划。”

　　“伏地魔预见到在不久的将来他不再需要一个霍格沃茨的奸细了吗？”

　　“是的，他相信他很快就能把整个学校占领。”

　　“那么一旦学校真的落入他的魔掌，”邓布利多轻声说道：“你曾经向我发誓要尽你所有力量保护霍格沃茨的学生们对吧？”

　　斯内普费力地点了点头。

　　“很好。那么现在，你最首要的任务是弄清楚德拉科究竟想干什么。一个受惊的孩子无论对别人还是对他自己都可能造成伤害。帮助他，保护他，他会接受的，他喜欢你——”

　　“——自从他父亲失势后他就远没那么喜欢我了。德拉科说都是我的错，他觉得我篡夺了卢修斯的位置。”

　　“都一样，试试看吧。那孩子的阴谋可能会害了无辜的人，那比我的性命重要的多。不过最终把他从伏地魔的怒火中解救出来的办法只有一个。”

　　斯内普挑眉，带着讽刺的口气问道：“你想让他杀了你？”

　　“当然不是。我想让你杀了我。”

　　屋子里沉寂了很久，直到被一种奇怪的滴答声打破。那是凤凰福克斯正在咬鱼骨的声音。

　　“我现在就动手怎么样？”斯内普的声音里有浓重的讥讽味道，“或者再等一会儿，等你琢磨好了自己的墓志铭以后我再动手？”

　　“哦，不是现在，”邓布利多笑着说，“我敢说那个时刻该出现时自然就会出现，照今晚的情形看来。”他暗示着自己那只枯萎的手说道，“我肯定过不了一年。”

　　“要是你不怕死，”斯内普粗暴的说，“干吗不让德拉科下手呢？”

　　“那孩子的灵魂还没堕落到那个地步。”邓布利多说，“我不能让他的灵魂因为我被毁掉。”

　　“那我的灵魂就堕落到那个地步了，对吧，邓布利多？那我的灵魂怎么办？”

　　“你很明白，帮助一个老人解除痛苦和屈辱究竟是不是件伤害灵魂的事。”邓布利多说，“我求你帮我这个大忙，西弗勒斯，因为我已经死定了，就象查得利炮弹队肯定要继续垫底那么肯定。我承认我想要死的痛快一点，这样就可以从一大堆烦心事里面解脱出来。烦心事可多了，就说格雷伯克吧，听说伏地魔把他招降了，还有亲爱的贝拉特里克斯，她总是喜欢跟自己的猎物玩一会儿再吃掉它。”

　　他声音很轻快，但是他的一双蓝眼睛像往常盯着哈利那样盯着斯内普，好像他们正在讨论的那个灵魂就在眼前。最终斯内普还是勉强点了点头。

　　邓布利多看起来很满意。

　　“谢谢你，西弗勒斯……”

　　办公室的景象消失了，现在斯内普和邓布利多一起在晨曦中漫步在废弃的城堡空地上。

　　“你和波特在干什么？这些天整晚你们都在一起。”斯内普突然问道。

　　邓布利多看上去很疲倦。

　　“为什么？你不再关他的禁闭了？西弗勒斯，那孩子应该多花时间在屋里而不是在外面跑。”

　　“他又变得像他爸爸一样了——”

　　“也许只是表面上像而已，他的本质还是更像他妈妈的。我和哈利在一起因为我有很多事要和他谈，必须告诉他一些信息，省得以后来不及说。”

　　“信息……”斯内普重复这个词，“你信任他……却不信任我。”

　　“这不是信任与否的问题。你我都知道我没有多少时间了，我必须告诉那孩子他必须知道的东西，这很重要。”

　　“那为什么你不告诉我那些信息呢？”

　　“我觉得不该把所有蛋都放在同一个篮子里，特别是不能放在一只总在伏地魔身边徘徊的篮子里。”

　　“是你叫我接近他的！”

　　“是的，而且你做的非常非常好。别以为我低估了你的处境有多危险，西弗勒斯，能传给伏地魔看似有价值的信息同时又能保密，这个工作除了你能胜任之外我没有可信任的人。”

　　“但是你更信任那个不会用大脑封闭术的孩子，他的魔法平庸，而且还和黑魔王的思维直接相通！”

　　“伏地魔害怕那种思维的相通！”邓不利多说道，“不久前他还小小的尝到了和哈利共享思维的苦头。那是一种他从没体验过的痛苦。他不会再想要去控制哈利，我肯定，至少不是通过那种方法。”

　　“我不明白。”

　　“伏地魔那残缺的灵魂不能忍受与一个像哈利那样的灵魂接触。就像把舌头放在冻铁上，就像把肉放在火上烤——”

　　“灵魂？可我们说的是思维！”

　　“对于哈利和伏地魔来说，这两个是一回事。”

　　邓不利多环视四周，确定这里只有他们俩。他们已经走到禁林边上，但没发现有人偷听的迹象。

　　“你杀了我以后，西弗勒斯——”

　　“你什么都不告诉我，却还指望我给你帮那个小忙！”斯内普咆哮着，他瘦削的脸上闪动着实实在在的愤怒。“你认为这一切都想当然，邓不利多！也许我得变卦了！”

　　“你对我发过誓的，西弗勒斯，而且当我们说道你要替我办事时，我想你是同意要好好照顾你那位斯莱特林小朋友的！”

　　斯内普看起来既愤怒又不情愿。邓不利多叹气道。

　　“今晚十一点钟到我办公室来，西弗勒斯，那时你就不会抱怨我不信任你了……”

　　他们又回到了邓不利多的办公室，窗外一片黑暗。凤凰福克斯静静呆着，斯内普也安静的坐着，邓不利多围着他踱步子，一边在说话。

　　“不到最后一刻，不到必要的时候，哈利不应该知道，否则他怎么能有勇气来做该做的事呢？”

　　“什么是他该做的事？”

　　“那是哈利和我之间的事，现在好好听着，西弗勒斯。我死以后会有那么一天，不要跟我争，别打断我！会有那么一天伏地魔会为他的那条蛇而感到担心。”

　　“担心纳吉尼？”斯内普很震惊。

　　“没错。只要有一天伏地魔不再派那条蛇出去执行命令，而是把它用魔法保护起来，我想那时，就是告诉哈利的时候。”

　　“告诉他什么？”

　　邓不利多深深吸了口气，闭上了眼睛。

　　“告诉他在伏地魔企图杀死他的那个晚上，当莉莉用生命为他立起一道保护屏障时，索命咒反弹到伏地魔身上，而伏地魔的一片灵魂也撕裂开来，寄生在那栋倒塌建筑物中唯一活着的灵魂上了。伏地魔的一部分在哈利体内活动着，这也是为什么他能与蛇交谈、他的思维能与伏地魔相通的原因。只要伏地魔丢失的那片灵魂碎片还在哈利身上被保护得好好的，伏地魔就死不了。”

　　哈利好像是从一条长长的隧道中看着另一头的两个人，他们离他那么远，他们的声音回荡在耳朵里，显得如此陌生。

　　“那么那孩子……那孩子必须死？”斯内普相当冷静地说。

　　“而且必须是伏地魔自己动手，西弗勒斯，这很重要。”

　　又是很长一段时间的沉默。然后斯内普开口道：“我以为……这么多年来……我们都在为她保护他，为莉莉。”

　　“我们是一直在保护他，因为必须教他、培养他，让他能够拥有足够的勇气。”邓不利多仍旧紧闭双眼。“同时，伏地魔和他之间的联系像寄生虫一样在滋长。有时我觉得他自己也怀疑过，如果我料得不错，他安排好一切后肯定会去赴死的，那就意味着伏地魔的末日到了。”

　　邓不利多睁开了眼睛，斯内普看起来十分惊恐。

　　“你一直保护他的生命就是为了让他在关键时刻去死？”

　　“别这么惊讶，西弗勒斯，你曾经眼看着多少人死去啊？”

　　“以前那些都是我救不了的。”斯内普说道，他站了起来。“你利用了我。”

　　“什么意思？”

　　“我为你做间谍，为你说谎，为你身陷险境。我做的一切都是为了要保护莉莉?波特的儿子。现在你告诉我把他养大就是为了把他像猪一样宰——”

　　“这很令我感动，西弗勒斯，”邓不利多严肃的说道，“但是说到底，毕竟你已经变得想要保护那孩子了吧？”

　　“保护他？”斯内普大叫：“护法现身！”

　　他魔杖尖端跳出一只银色的母鹿。她落在办公室地板上，跳着穿过屋子，飞出了窗户。邓不利多看着她飞走，在那银色光芒消退后他转身去看斯内普，他的眼中充满泪水。

　　“一直以来都是这样吗？”

　　“永远都是。”斯内普说道。

　　场景又变了。这次哈利看见斯内普在办公桌后面冲着邓不利多的画像说话。

　　“你得告诉伏地魔哈利从他姨妈家出发的正确日期，”邓不利多说，“伏地魔知道你掌握很多信息，如果不这么做会引起怀疑。但是，你必须蒙骗过他，我想那样可以保证哈利的安全。试试去找蒙顿格斯?弗莱奇帮你。还有，西弗勒斯，如果你不得不参与追踪，那么你要尽量别露出马脚，要演得像一点……我就靠你来蒙骗伏地魔了，越久越好，否则霍格沃茨就会落入魔掌。”

　　现在斯内普正在一间不熟悉的酒馆里跟蒙顿格斯交头接耳。蒙顿格斯满脸迷茫空洞，而斯内普则眉头紧锁。

　　“你得去提醒凤凰社的人，让他们伪装起来，用复方汤剂，弄几个一模一样的波特。只有那样才管用。你要忘记是我告诉你的，你要表现得是你自己的主意，明白了吗？”

　　“明白。”蒙顿格斯嘟囔着，目光散乱。

　　现在哈利正在斯内普身边，跟着他骑着扫帚一起飞行穿过夜空。他身边有一群食死徒围着，前面是卢平和伪装成哈利的乔治……一个食死徒来到斯内普前面举起了魔杖，指向卢平的后背。

　　“神锋无影！”斯内普喊道。

　　但是这道本来冲那食死徒拿魔杖手而去的咒语却打偏了，撞在乔治身上。

　　下一个场景，斯内普跪在小天狼星老房子的卧室里。当他读着莉莉从前的信时，眼泪顺着他的鹰勾鼻子不停滑落。信的第二页只有几个字。

　　“不能再和格林沃德做朋友了，我觉得她一定是疯了！

　　爱你的莉莉”

　　斯内普把有莉莉签名的那一页折起来揣进袍子里，然后把手中拿着的照片撕成两半，留下有莉莉笑容的那一半，把有詹姆和哈利的那一半扔回到柜子底下的地上……

　　然后斯内普又一次站在校长办公室里，菲尼亚斯?奈杰勒斯匆忙的跑回到自己的画像中来。

　　“校长！他们在森林里安营扎寨呢，那个泥巴种……”

　　“别用那个词！”

　　“——那个叫格兰杰的女孩，打开包的时候提到了那个地方，我听见了！”

　　“很好，非常好！”校长椅后面的邓不利多肖像大声说道，“现在，西弗勒斯，那把剑！别忘了只有在必要和他有足够勇气的情况下——不能让他知道你把剑给了哈利！伏地魔透过哈利的思维能看到你做了什么——”

　　“我知道，”斯内普敷衍道，他走到邓不利多肖像跟前一拉，画像滑开，出现一个隐蔽的洞口，他从里面取出了格兰芬多之剑。

　　“你还没告诉我为什么把剑给波特那么重要呢？”斯内普一边说一边穿上飞行斗篷。

　　“不，我觉得不用。”邓不利多的画像说道，“他知道用剑来做什么。西弗勒斯，你要特别当心，乔治?韦斯莱被打伤之后他们见到你不会给你好脸色的——”

　　斯内普在门口转过身来。

　　“别担心，邓不利多，”他冷静地说，“我已经有主意了……”

　　斯内普离开了房间。哈利从冥想盆中抬起头来，片刻之后他就躺在铺了地毯的地板上，仿佛斯内普刚刚才把房间门关上。


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    Chapter Thirty-Three
    The Prince‘s Tale
    Harry remained kneeling at Snape‘s side， simply staring down at him， until quite suddenly a high， cold voice spoke so close to them that Harry jumped on his feet， the flask gripped tightly in his hands， thinking that Voldemort had reentered the room.
    Voldemort‘s voice reverberated from the walls and floor， and Harry realized that he was talking to Hogwarts and to all the surrounding area， that the residents of Hogsmeade and all those still fighting in the castle would hear him as clearly as if he stood beside them， his breath on the back of their necks， a deathblow away.
    “You have fought，” said the high， cold voice， “valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery.
    “Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me， you will all die， one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste.
    “Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately.
    “You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.
    “I speak now， Harry Potter， directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If， at the end of that hour， you have not come to me， have not given yourself up， then battle recommences. This time， I shall enter the fray myself， Harry Potter， and I shall find you， and I shall punish every last man， woman， and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour.”
    Both Ron and Hermione shook their heads frantically， looking at Harry.
    “Don‘t listen to him，” said Ron.
    “It‘ll be all right，” said Hermione wildly. “Let’s – let‘s get back to the castle， if he’s gone to the forest we‘ll need to think of a new plan – ”
    She glanced at Snape‘s body， then hurried back to the tunnel entrance. Ron followed her. Harry gathered up the Invisibility Cloak， then looked down at Snape. He did not know what to feel， except shock at the way Snape had been killed， and the reason for which it had been done…
    They crawled back through the tunnel， none of them talking， and Harry wondered whether Ron and Hermione could still hear Voldemort ringing in their heads as he could.
    You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest…One hour…
    Small bundles seemed to litter the lawn at the front of the castle （？）。 It could only be an hour or so from dawn， yet it was pitch-black. The three of them hurried toward the stone steps. A lone dog， the size of a small boat， lay abandoned in front of them. There was no other sign of Grawp or of his attacker.
    The castle was unnaturally silent. There were no flashes of light now， no bangs or screams or shouts. The flagstones of the deserted entrance hall were stained with blood. Emeralds were still scattered all over the floor， along with pieces of marble and splintered wood. Part of the banisters had been blown away.
    “Where is everyone？” whispered Hermione.
    Ron led the way to the Great Hall. Harry stopped in the doorway.
    The House tables were gone and the room was crowded. The survivors stood in groups， their arms around each other‘s necks. The injured were being treated upon the raised platform by Madam Pomfrey and a group of helpers. Firenze was amongst the injured； his flank poured blood and he shook where he lay， unable to stand.
    The dead lay in a row in the middle of the Hall. Harry could not see Fred‘s body，because his family surrounded him. George was kneeling at his head； Mrs. Weasley was lying across Fred’s chest， her body shaking. Mr. Weasley stroking her hair while tears cascaded down his cheeks.
    Without a word to Harry， Ron and Hermione walked away. Harry saw Hermione approach Ginny， whose face was swollen and blotchy， and hug her. Ron joined Bill， Fleur，and Percy， who flung an arm around Ron‘s shoulders. As Ginny and Hermione moved closer to the rest of the family， Harry had a clear view of the bodies lying next to Fred. Remus and Tonks， pale and still and peaceful-looking， apparently asleep beneath the dark，enchanted ceiling.
    The Great Hall seemed to fly away， become smaller， shrink， as Harry reeled backward from the doorway. He could not draw breath. He could not bear to look at any of the other bodies， to see who else had died for him. He could not bear to join the Weasleys， could not look into their eyes， when if he had given himself up in the first place， Fred might never have died…
    He turned away and ran up the marble staircase. Lupin， Tonks… He yearned not to feel… He wished he could rip out his heart， his innards， everything that was screaming inside him…
    The castle was completely empty； even the ghosts seemed to have joined the mass mourning in the Great Hall. Harry ran without stopping， clutching the crystal flask of Snape‘s last thoughts， and he did not slow down until he reached the stone gargoyle guarding the headmaster’s office.
    “Password？”
    “Dumbledore！” said Harry without thinking， because it was he whom he yearned to see， and to his surprise the gargoyle slid aside revealing the spiral staircase behind.
    But when Harry burst into the circular office he found a change. The portraits that hung all around the walls were empty. Not a single headmaster or headmistress remained to see him； all， it seemed， had flitted away， charging through the paintings that lined the castle so that they could have a clear view of what was going on.
    Harry glanced hopelessly at Dumbledore‘s deserted frame， which hung directly behind the headmaster’s chair， then turned his back on it. The stone Pensieve lay in the cabinet where it had always been. Harry heaved it onto the desk and poured Snape‘s memories into the wide basin with its runic markings around the edge. To escape into someone else’s head would be a blessed relief… Nothing that even Snape had left him could be worse than his own thoughts. The memories swirled， silver white and strange，
    and without hesitating， with a feeling of reckless abandonment， as though this would assuage his torturing grief， Harry dived.
    He fell headlong into sunlight， and his feet found warm ground. When he straightened up， he saw that he was in a nearly deserted playground. A single huge chimney dominated the distant skyline. Two girls were swinging backward and forward，and a skinny boy was watching them from behind a clump of bushes. His black hair was overlong and his clothes were so mismatched that it looked deliberate： too short jeans， a shabby， overlarge coat that might have belonged to a grown man， an odd smocklike shirt.
    Harry moved closer to the boy. Snape looked no more than nine or ten years old，sallow， small， stringy. There was undisguised greed in his thin face as he watched the younger of the two girls swinging higher and higher than her sister.
    “Lily， don‘t do it！” shrieked the elder of the two.
    But the girl had let go of the swing at the very height of its arc and flown into the air， quite literally flown， launched herself skyward with a great shout of laughter， and instead of crumpling on the playground asphalt， she soared like a trapeze artist through the air， staying up far too long， landing far too lightly.
    “Mummy told you not to！”
    Petunia stopped her swing by dragging the heels of her sandals on the ground，making a crunching， grinding sound， then leapt up， hands on hips.
    “Mummy said you weren‘t allowed， Lily！”
    “But I‘m fine，” said Lily， still giggling. “Tuney， look at this. Watch what I can do.”
    Petunia glanced around. The playground was deserted apart from themselves and，though the girls did not know it， Snape. Lily had picked up a fallen flower from the bush behind which Snape lurked. Petunia advanced， evidently torn between curiosity and disapproval. Lily waited until Petunia was near enough to have a clear view， then held out her palm. The flower sat there， opening and closing its petals， like some bizarre，many-lipped oyster.
    “Stop it！” shrieked Petunia.
    “It‘s not hurting you，” said Lily， but she closed her hand on the blossom and threw it back to the ground.
    “It‘s not right，” said Petunia， but her eyes had followed the flower’s flight to the ground and lingered upon it. “How do you do it？” she added， and there was definite longing in her voice.
    “It‘s obvious， isn’t it？” Snape could no longer contain himself， but had jumped out from behind the bushes. Petunia shrieked and ran backward toward the swings， but Lily， though clearly startled， remained where she was. Snape seemed to regret his appearance. A dull flush of color mounted the sallow cheeks as he looked at Lily.
    “What‘s obvious？” asked Lily.
    Snape had an air of nervous excitement. With a glance at the distant Petunia， now hovering beside the swings， he lowered his voice and said， “I know what you are.”
    “What do you mean？”
    “You‘re…you’re a witch，” whispered Snape.
    She looked affronted.
    “That‘s not a very nice thing to say to somebody！”
    She turned， nose in the air， and marched off toward her sister.
    “No！” said Snape. He was highly colored now， and Harry wondered why he did not take off the ridiculously large coat， unless it was because he did not want to reveal the smock beneath it. He flapped after the girls， looking ludicrously batlike， like his older self.
    The sisters considered him， united in disapproval， both holding on to one of the swing poles， as though it was the safe place in tag.
    “You are，” said Snape to Lily. “You are a witch. I‘ve been watching you for a while. But there’s nothing wrong with that. My mum‘s one， and I’m a wizard.”
    Petunia‘s laugh was like cold water.
    “Wizard！” she shrieked， her courage returned now that she had recovered from the shock of his unexpected appearance. “I know who you are. You‘re that Snape boy！
    They live down Spinner‘s End by the river，“ she told Lily， and it was evident from her tone that she considered the address a poor recommendation. ”Why have you been spying on us？“
    “Haven‘t been spying，” said Snape， hot and uncomfortable and dirty-haired in the bright sunlight. “Wouldn’t spy on you， anyway，” he added spitefully， “you‘re a Muggle.”
    Though Petunia evidently did not understand the word， she could hardly mistake the tone.
    “Lily， come on， we‘re leaving！” she said shrilly. Lily obeyed her sister at once，glaring at Snape as she left. He stood watching them as they marched through the playground gate， and Harry， the only one left to observe him， recognized Snape’s bitter disappointment， and understood that Snape had been planning this moment for a while，and that it had all gone wrong…
    The scene dissolved， and before Harry knew it， re-formed around him. He was now in a small thicket of trees. He could see a sunlit river glittering through their trunks. The shadows cast by the trees made a basin of cool green shade. Two children sat facing each other， cross-legged on the ground. Snape had removed his coat now； his odd smock looked less pecular in the half light.
    “…and the Ministry can punish you if you do magic outside school， you get letters.”
    “But I have done magic outside school！”
    “We‘re all right. We haven’t got wands yet. They let you off when you‘re a kid and you can’t help it. But once you‘re eleven，” he nodded importantly， “and they start training you， then you’ve got to go careful.”
    There was a little silence. Lily had picked up a fallen twig and twirled it in the air，and Harry knew that she was imagining sparks trailing from it. Then she dropped the twig，leaned in toward the boy， and said， “It is real， isn‘t it？ It’s not a joke？ Petunia says you‘re lying to me. Petunia says there isn’t a Hogwarts. It is real， isn‘t it？”
    “It‘s real for us，” said Snape. “Not for her. But we’ll get the letter， you and me.”
    “Really？” whispered Lily.
    “Definitely，” said Snape， and even with his poorly cut hair and his odd clothes， he struck an oddly impressive figure sprawled in front of her， brimful of confidence in his destiny.
    “And will it really come by owl？” Lily whispered.
    “Normally，” said Snape. “But you‘re Muggle-born， so someone from the school will have to come and explain to your parents.”
    “Does it make a difference， being Muggle-born？”
    Snape hesitated. His black eyes， eager in the greenish gloom， moved over the pale face， the dark red hair.
    “No，” he said. “It doesn‘t make any difference.”
    “Good，” said Lily， relaxing. It was clear that she had been worrying.
    “You‘ve got loads of magic，” said Snape. “I saw that. All the time I was watching you…”
    His voice trailed away； she was not listening， but had stretched out on the leafy ground and was looking up at the canopy of leaves overhead. He watched her as greedily as he had watched her in the playground.
    “How are things at your house？” Lily asked.
    A little crease appeared between his eyes.
    “Fine，” he said.
    “They‘re not arguing anymore？”
    “Oh yes， they‘re arguing，” said Snape. He picked up a fistful of leaves and began tearing them apart， apparently unaware of what he was doing. “But it won’t be that long and I‘ll be gone.”
    “Doesn‘t your dad like magic？”
    “He doesn‘t like anything， much，” said Snape.
    “Severus？”
    A little smile twisted Snape‘s mouth when she said his name.
    “Yeah？”
    “Tell me about the dementors again.”
    “What d‘you want to know about them for？”
    “If I use magic outside school – ”
    “They wouldn‘t give you to the dementors for that！ Dementors are for people who do really bad stuff. They guard the wizard prison， Azkaban. You’re not going to end up in Azkaban， you‘re too – ”
    He turned red again and shredded more leaves. Then a small rustling noise behind Harry made him turn： Petunia， hiding behind a tree， had lost her footing.
    “Tuney！” said Lily， surprise and welcome in her voice， but Snape had jumped to his feet.
    “Who‘s spying now？” he shouted. “What d’you want？”
    Petunia was breathless， alarmed at being caught. Harry could see her struggling for something hurtful to say.
    “What is that you‘re wearing， anyway？” she said， pointing at Snape’s chest.“Your mum‘s blouse？”
    There was a crack. A branch over Petunia‘s head had fallen. Lily screamed. The branch caught Petunia on the shoulder， and she staggered backward and burst into tears.
    “Tuney！”
    But Petunia was running away. Lily rounded on Snape.
    “Did you make that happen？”
    “No.” He looked both defiant and scared.
    “You did！” She was backing away from him. “You did！ You hurt her！”
    “No – no， I didn‘t！”
    But the lie did not convince Lily. After one last burning look， she ran from the little thicket， off after her sister， and Snape looked miserable and confused…
    And the scene re-formed. Harry looked around. He was on platform nine and three quarters， and Snape stood beside him， slightly hunched， next to a thin， sallow-faced，sour-looking woman who greatly resembled him. Snape was staring at a family of four a short distance away. The two girls stood a little apart from their parents. Lily seemed to be pleading with her sister. Harry moved closer to listen.
    “…I‘m sorry， Tuney， I’m sorry！ Listen – ” She caught her sister‘s hand and held tight to it， even though Petunia tried to pull it away. “Maybe once I’m there – no， listen，Tuney！ Maybe once I‘m there， I’ll be able to go to Professor Dumbledore and persuade him to change his mind！”
    “I don‘t – want – to – go！” said Petunia， and she dragged her hand back out of her sister’s grasp. “You think I want to go to some stupid castle and learn to be a – a…”
    Her pale eyes roved over the platform， over the cats mewling in their owners‘arms， over the owls， fluttering and hooting at each other in cages， over the students， some already in their long black robes， loading trunks onto the scarlet steam engine or else greeting one another with glad cries after a summer apart.
    “ – you think I want to be a – a freak？”
    Lily‘s eyes filled with tears as Petunia succeeded in tugging her hand away.
    “I‘m not a freak，” said Lily. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”
    “That‘s where you’re going，” said Petunia with relish. “A special school for freaks. You and that Snape boy…weirdos， that‘s what you two are. It’s good you‘re being separated from normal people. It’s for our safety.”
    Lily glanced toward her parents， who were looking around the platform with an air of wholehearted enjoyment， drinking in the scene. Then she looked back at her sister，and her voice was low and fierce.
    “You didn‘t think it was such a freak’s school when you wrote to the headmaster and begged him to take you.”
    Petunia turned scarlet.
    “Beg？ I didn‘t beg！”
    “I saw his reply. It was very kind.”
    “You shouldn‘t have read – ” whispered Petunia， “that was my private – how could you – ？”
    Lily gave herself away by half-glancing toward where Snape stood nearby. Petunia gasped.
    “That boy found it！ You and that boy have been sneaking in my room！”
    “No – not sneaking – ” Now Lily was on the defensive. “Severus saw the envelope， and he couldn‘t believe a Muggle could have contacted Hogwarts， that’s all！
    He says there must be wizards working undercover in the postal service who take care of– “
    “Apparently wizards poke their noses in everywhere！” said Petunia， now as pale as she had been flushed. “Freak！” she spat at her sister， and she flounced off to where her parents stood…
    The scene dissolved again. Snape was hurrying along the corridor of the Hogwarts Express as it clattered through the countryside. He had already changed into his school robes， had perhaps taken the first opportunity to take off his dreadful Muggle clothes. At last he stopped， outside a compartment in which a group of rowdy boys were
    talking. Hunched in a corner seat beside the window was Lily， her face pressed against the windowpane.
    Snape slid open the compartment door and sat down opposite Lily. She glanced at him and then looked back out of the window. She had been crying.
    “I don‘t want to talk to you，” she said in a constricted voice.
    “Why not？”
    “Tuney h-hates me. Because we saw that letter from Dumbledore.”
    “So what？”
    She threw him a look of deep dislike.
    “So she‘s my sister！”
    “She‘s only a – ” He caught himself quickly； Lily， too busy trying to wipe her eyes without being noticed， did not hear him.
    “But we‘re going！” he said， unable to suppress the exhilaration in his voice. “This is it！ We’re off to Hogwarts！”
    She nodded， mopping her eyes， but in spite of herself， she half smiled.
    “You‘d better be in Slytherin，” said Snape， encouraged that she had brightened a little.
    “Slytherin？”
    One of the boys sharing the compartment， who had shown no interest at all in Lily or Snape until that point， looked around at the word， and Harry， whose attention had been focused entirely on the two beside the window， saw his father： slight， black-haired like Snape， but with that indefinable air of having been well-cared-for， even adored， that Snape so conspicuously lacked.
    “Who wants to be in Slytherin？ I think I‘d leave， wouldn’t you？” James asked the boy lounging on the seats opposite him， and with a jolt， Harry realized that it was Sirius. Sirius did not smile.
    “My whole family have been in Slytherin，” he said.
    “Blimey，” said James， “and I thought you seemed all right！”
    Sirius grinned.
    “Maybe I‘ll break the tradition. Where are you heading， if you’ve got the choice？”
    James lifted an invisible sword.
    “‘Gryffindor， where dwell the brave at heart！’ Like my dad.”
    Snape made a small， disparaging noise. James turned on him.
    “Got a problem with that？”
    “No，” said Snape， though his slight sneer said otherwise. “If you‘d rather be brawny than brainy – ”
    “Where‘re you hoping to go， seeing as you’re neither？” interjected Sirius.
    James roared with laughter. Lily sat up， rather flushed， and looked from James to Sirius in dislike.
    “Come on， Severus， let‘s find another compartment.”
    “Oooooo…”
    James and Sirius imitated her lofty voice； James tried to trip Snape as he passed.
    “See ya， Snivellus！” a voice called， as the compartment door slammed…
    And the scene dissolved once more…
    Harry was standing right behind Snape as they faced the candlelit House tables，lined with rapt faces. Then Professor McGonagall said， “Evans， Lily！”
    He watched his mother walk forward on trembling legs and sit down upon the rickety stool. Professor McGonagall dropped the Sorting Hat onto her head， and barely a second after it had touched the dark red hair， the hat cried， “Gryffindor！”
    Harry heard Snape let out a tiny groan. Lily took off the hat， handed it back to Professor McGonagall， then hurried toward the cheering Gryffindors， but as she went she glanced back at Snape， and there was a sad little smile on her face. Harry saw Sirius move up the bench to make room for her. She took one look at him， seemed to recognize him from the train， folded her arms， and firmly turned her back on him.
    The roll call continued. Harry watched Lupin， Pettigrew， and his father join Lily and Sirius at the Gryffindor table. At last， when only a dozen students remained to be sorted， Professor McGonagall called Snape.
    Harry walked with him to the stool， watched him place the hat upon his head.“Slytherin！” cried the Sorting Hat.
    And Severus Snape moved off to the other side of the Hall， away from Lily， to where the Slytherins were cheering him， to where Lucius Malfoy， a prefect badge gleaming upon his chest， patted Snape on the back as he sat down beside him…
    And the scene changed…
    Lily and Snape were walking across the castle courtyard， evidently arguing. Harry hurried to catch up with them， to listen in. As he reached them， he realized how much taller they both were. A few years seemed to have passed since their Sorting.
    “…thought we were supposed to be friends？” Snape was saying， “Best friends？”
    “We are， Sev， but I don‘t like some of the people you’re hanging round with！ I‘m sorry， but I detest Avery and Mulciber！ Mulciber！ What do you see in him， Sev， he’s creepy！ D‘you know what he tried to do to Mary Macdonald the other day？”
    Lily had reached a pillar and leaned against it， looking up into the thin， sallow face.
    “That was nothing，” said Snape. “It was a laugh， that‘s all – ”
    “It was Dark Magic， and if you think that‘s funny – ”
    “What about the stuff Potter and his mates get up to？” demanded Snape. His color rose again as he said it， unable， it seemed， to hold in his resentment.
    “What‘s Potter got to do with anything？” said Lily.
    “They sneak out at night. There‘s something weird about that Lupin. Where does he keep going？”
    “He‘s ill，” said Lily. “They say he’s ill – ”
    “Every month at the full moon？” said Snape.
    “I know your theory，” said Lily， and she sounded cold. “Why are you so obsessed with them anyway？ Why do you care what they‘re doing at night？”
    “I‘m just trying to show you they’re not as wonderful as everyone seems to think they are.”
    The intensity of his gaze made her blush.
    “They don‘t use Dark Magic， though.” She dropped her voice. “And you’re being really ungrateful. I heard what happened the other night. You went sneaking down that tunnel by the Whomping Willow， and James Potter saved you from whatever‘s down there – ”
    Snape‘s whole face contorted and he spluttered， “Saved？ Saved？ You think he was playing the hero？ He was saving his neck and his friends’ too！ You‘re not going to – I won’t let you – ”
    “Let me？ Let me？”
    Lily‘s bright green eyes were slits. Snape backtracked at once.
    “I didn‘t m ean – I just don’t want to see you made a fool of – He fancies you，James Potter fancies you！” The words seemed wrenched from him against his will. “And he‘s not…everyone thinks…big Quidditch hero – ” Snape’s bitterness and dislike were rendering him incoherent， and Lily‘s eyebrows were traveling farther and farther up her forehead.
    “I know James Potter‘s an arrogant toerag，” she said， cutting across Snape. “I don’t need you to tell me that. But Mulciber‘s and Avery’s idea of humor is just evil. Evil，Sev. I don‘t understand how you can be friends with them.”
    Harry doubted that Snape had even heard her strictures on Mulciber and Avery. The moment she had insulted James Potter， his whole body had relaxed， and as they walked away there was a new spring in Snape‘s step…
    And the scene dissolved…
    Harry watched again as Snape left the Great Hall after sitting his O.W.L. in Defense Against the Dark Arts， watched as he wandered away from the castle and strayed inadvertently close to the place beneath the beech tree where James， Sirius， Lupin， and Pettigrew sat together. But Harry kept his distance this time， because he knew what happened after James had hoisted Severus into the air and taunted him； he knew what had been done and said， and it gave him no pleasure to hear it again… He watched as Lily joined the group and went to Snape‘s defense. Distantly he heard Snape shout at her in his humiliation and his fury， the unforgivable word： “Mudblood.”
    The scene changed…
    “I‘m sorry.”
    “I‘m not interested.”
    “I‘m sorry！”
    “Save your breath”
    It was nighttime. Lily， who was wearing a dressing gown， stood with her arms folded in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady， at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.
    “I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here.”
    “I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood， it just – ”
    “Slipped out？” There was no pity in Lily‘s voice. “It’s too late. I‘ve made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends – you see， you don’t even deny it！ You don‘t even deny that’s what you‘re all aiming to be！ You can’t wait to join You-Know-Who， can you？”
    He opened his mouth， but closed it without speaking.
    “I can‘t pretend anymore. You’ve chosen your way， I‘ve chosen mine.”
    “No – listen， I didn‘t mean – ”
    “ – to call me Mudblood？ But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood， Severus. Why should I be any different？”
    He struggled on the verge of speech， but with a contemptuous look she turned and climbed back through the portrait hole…
    The corridor dissolved， and the scene took a little longer to reform： Harry seemed to fly through shifting shapes and colors until his surroundings solidified again and he stood on a hilltop， forlorn and cold in the darkness， the wind whistling through the branches of a few leafless trees. The adult Snape was panting， turning on the spot， his wand gripped tightly in his hand， waiting for something or for someone… His fear infected Harry too， even though he knew that he could not be harmed， and he looked over his shoulder， wondering what it was that Snape was waiting for –
    Then a blinding， jagged jet of white light flew through the air. Harry thought of lightning， but Snape had dropped to his knees and his wand had flown out of his hand.
    “Don‘t kill me！”
    “That was not my intention.”
    Any sound of Dumbledore Apparating had been drowned by the sound of the wind in the branches. He stood before Snape with his robes whipping around him， and his face was illuminated from below in the light cast by his wand.
    “Well， Severus？ What message does Lord Voldemort have for me？”
    “No – no message – I‘m here on my own account！”
    Snape was wringing his hands. He looked a little mad， with his straggling black hair flying around him.
    “I – I come with a warning – no， a request – please – ”
    Dumbledore flicked his wand. Though leaves and branches still flew through the night air around them， silence fell on the spot where he and Snape faced each other.
    “What request could a Death Eater make of me？”
    “The – the prophecy…the prediction…Trelawney…”
    “Ah， yes，” said Dumbledore. “How much did you relay to Lord Voldemort？”
    “Everything – everything I heard！” said Snape. “That is why – it is for that reason– he thinks it means Lily Evans！”
    “The prophecy did not refer to a woman，” said Dumbledore. “It spoke of a boy born at the end of July – ”
    “You know what I mean！ He thinks it means her son， he is going to hunt her down– kill them all – ”
    “If she means so much to you，” said Dumbledore， “surely Lord Voldemort will spare her？ Could you not ask for mercy for the mother， in exchange for the son？”
    “I have – I have asked him – ”
    “You disgust me，” said Dumbledore， and Harry had never heard so much contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to shrink a little， “You do not care， then， about the deaths of her husband and child？ They can die， as long as you have what you want？”
    Snape said nothing， but merely looked up at Dumbledore.
    “Hide them all， then，” he croaked. “Keep her – them – safe. Please.”
    “And what will you give me in return， Severus？”
    “In – in return？” Snape gaped at Dumbledore， and Harry expected him to protest，but after a long moment he said， “Anything.”
    The hilltop faded， and Harry stood in Dumbledore‘s office， and something was making a terrible sound， like a wounded animal. Snape was slumped forward in a chair and Dumbledore was standing over him， looking grim. After a moment or two， Snape raised his face， and he looked like a man who had lived a hundred years of misery since leaving the wild hilltop.
    “I thought…you were going…to keep her…safe…”
    “She and James put their faith in the wrong person，” said Dumbledore. “Rather like you， Severus. Weren‘t you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare her？”
    Snape‘s breathing was shallow.
    “Her boy survives，” said Dumbledore.
    With a tiny jerk of the head， Snape seemed to flick off an irksome fly.
    “Her son lives. He has her eyes， precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color of Lily Evans‘s eyes， I am sure？”
    “DON‘T！” bellowed Snape. “Gone…dead…”
    “Is this remorse， Severus？”
    “I wish…I wish I were dead…”
    “And what use would that be to anyone？” said Dumbledore coldly. “If you loved Lily Evans， if you truly loved her， then your way forward is clear.”
    Snape seemed to peer through a haze of pain， and Dumbledore‘s words appeared to take a long time to reach him.
    “What – what do you mean？”
    “You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily‘s son.”
    “He does not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone – ”
    “The Dark Lord will return， and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does.”
    There was a long pause， and slowly Snape regained control of himself， mastered his own breathing. At last he said， “Very well. Very well. But never – never tell，Dumbledore！ This must be between us！ Swear it！ I cannot bear…especially Potter‘s son…I want your word！”
    “My word， Severus， that I shall never reveal the best of you？” Dumbledore sighed，looking down into Snape‘s ferocious， anguished face. “If you insist…”
    The office dissolved but re-formed instantly. Snape was pacing up and down in front of Dumbledore.
    “ – mediocre， arrogant as his father， a determined rule-breaker， delighted to find himself famous， attention-seeking and impertinent – ”
    “You see what you expect to see， Severus，” said Dumbledore， without raising his eyes from a copy of Transfiguration Today. “Other teachers report that the boy is modest，likable， and reasonably talented. Personally， I find him an engaging child.”
    Dumbledore turned a page， and said， without looking up， “Keep an eye on Quirrell， won‘t you？”
    A whirl of color， and now everything darkened， and Snape and Dumbledore stood a little apart in the entrance hall， while the last stragglers from the Yule Ball passed them on their way to bed.
    “Well？” murmured Dumbledore.
    “Karkaroff‘s Mark is becoming darker too. He is panicking， he fears retribution；you know how much help he gave the Ministry after the Dark Lord fell.” Snape looked sideways at Dumbledore’s crooked-nosed profile. “Karkaroff intends to flee if the Mark burns.”
    “Does he？” said Dumbledore softly， as Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies came giggling in from the grounds. “And are you tempted to join him？”
    “No，” said Snape， his black eyes on Fleur‘s and Roger’s retreating figures. “I am not such a coward.”
    “No，” agreed Dumbledore. “You are a braver man by far than Igor Karkaroff. You know， I sometimes think we Sort too soon…”
    He walked away， leaving Snape looking stricken…
    And now Harry stood in the headmaster‘s office yet again. It was nighttime， and Dumbledore sagged sideways in the thronelike chair behind the desk， apparently semiconscious. His right hand dangled over the side， blackened and burned. Snape was muttering incantations， pointing his wand at the wrist of the hand， while with his left hand he tipped a goblet full of thick golden potion down Dumbledore’s throat. After a moment or two， Dumbledore‘s eyelids fluttered and opened.
    “Why，” said Snape， without preamble， “why did you put on that ring？ It carries a curse， surely you realized that. Why even touch it？”
    Marvolo Gaunt‘s ring lay on the desk before Dumbledore. It was cracked； the sword of Gryffindor lay beside it.
    Dumbledore grimaced.
    “I…was a fool. Sorely tempted…”
    “Tempted by what？”
    Dumbledore did not answer.
    “It is a miracle you managed to return here！” Snape sounded furious. “That ring carried a curse of extraordinary power， to contain it is all we can hope for； I have trapped the curse in one hand for the time being – ”
    Dumbledore raised his blackened， useless hand， and examined it with the expression of one being shown an interesting curio.
    “You have done very well， Severus. How long do you think I have？”
    Dumbledore‘s tone was conversational； he might have been asking for a weather forecast. Snape hesitated， and then said， “I cannot tell. Maybe a year. There is no halting such a spell forever. It will spread eventually， it is the sort of curse that strengthens over time.”
    Dumbledore smiled. The news that he had less than a year to live seemed a matter of little or no concern to him.
    “I am fortunate， extremely fortunate， that I have you， Severus.”
    “If you had only summoned me a little earlier， I might have been able to do more，buy you more time！” said Snape furiously. He looked down at the broken ring and the sword. “Did you think that breaking the ring would break the curse？”
    “Something like that…I was delirious， no doubt…” said Dumbledore. With an effort he straightened himself in his chair. “Well， really， this makes matters much more straightforward.”
    Snape looked utterly perplexed. Dumbledore smiled.
    “I refer to the plan Lord Voldemort is revolving around me. His plan to have the poor Malfoy boy murder me.”
    Snape sat down in the chair Harry had so often occupied， across the desk from Dumbledore. Harry could tell that he wanted to say more on the subject of Dumbledore‘s cursed hand， but the other held it up in polite refusal to discuss the matter further. Scowling， Snape said， “The Dark Lord does not expect Draco to succeed. This is merely
    punishment for Lucius‘s recent failures. Slow torture for Draco’s parents， while they watch him fail and pay the price.“
    “In short， the boy has had a death sentence pronounced upon him as surely as I have，” said Dumbledore. “Now， I should have thought the natural successor to the job，once Draco fails， is yourself？”
    There was a short pause.
    “That， I think， is the Dark Lord‘s plan.”
    “Lord Voldemort foresees a moment in the near future when he will not need a spy at Hogwarts？”
    “He believes the school will soon be in his grasp， yes.”
    “And if it does fall into his grasp，” said Dumbledore， almost， it seemed， as an aside， “I have your word that you will do all in your power to protect the students at Hogwarts？”
    Snape gave a stiff nod.
    “Good. Now then. Your first priority will be to discover what Draco is up to. A frightened teenage boy is a danger to others as well as to himself. Offer him help and guidance， he ought to accept， he likes you – ”
    “ – much less since his father has lost favor. Draco blames me， he thinks I have usurped Lucius‘s position.”
    “All the same， try. I am concerned less for myself than for accidental victims of whatever schemes might occur to the boy. Ultimately， of course， there is only one thing to be done if we are to save him from Lord Voldemort‘s wrath.”
    Snape raised his eyebrows and his tone was sardonic as he asked， “Are you intending to let him kill you？”
    “Certainly not. You must kill me.”
    There was a long silence， broken only by an odd clicking noise. Fawkes the phoenix was gnawing a bit of cuttlebone.
    “Would you like me to do it now？” asked Snape， his voice heavy with irony. “Or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph？”
    “Oh， not quite yet，” said Dumbledore， smiling. “I daresay the moment will present itself in due course. Given what has happened tonight，” he indicated his withered hand，“we can be sure that it will happen within a year.”
    “If you don‘t mind dying，” said Snape roughly， “why not let Draco do it？”
    “That boy‘s soul is not yet so damaged，” said Dumbledore. “I would not have it ripped apart on my account.”
    “And my soul， Dumbledore？ Mine？”
    “You alone know whether it will harm your soul to help an old man avoid pain and humiliation，” said Dumbledore. “I ask this one great favor of you， Severus， because death is coming for me as surely as the Chudley Cannons will finish bottom of this year‘s league. I confess I should prefer a quick， painless exit to the protracted and messy affair it will be if， for instance， Greyback is involved – I hear Voldemort has recruited him？ Or dear Bellatrix， who likes to play with her food before she eats it.”
    His tone was light， but his blue eyes pierced Snape as they had frequently pierced Harry， as though the soul they discussed was visible to him. At last Snape gave another curt nod.
    Dumbledore seemed satisfied.
    “Thank you， Severus…”
    The office disappeared， and now Snape and Dumbledore were strolling together in the deserted castle grounds by twilight.
    “What are you doing with Potter， all these evenings you are closeted together？”
    Snape asked abruptly.
    Dumbledore looked weary.
    “Why？ You aren‘t trying to give him more detentions， Severus？ The boy will soon have spent more time in detention than out.”
    “He is his father over again – ”
    “In looks， perhaps， but his deepest nature is much more like his mother‘s. I spend time with Harry because I have things to discuss with him， information I must give him before it is too late.”
    “Information，” repeated Snape. “You trust him…you do not trust me.”
    “It is not a question of trust. I have， as we both know， limited time. It is essential that I give the boy enough information for him to do what he needs to do.”
    “And why may I not have the same information？”
    “I prefer not to put all of my secrets in one basket， particularly not a basket that spends so much time dangling on the arm of Lord Voldemort.”
    “Which I do on your orders！”
    “And you do it extremely well. Do not think that I underestimate the constant danger in which you place yourself， Severus. To give Voldemort what appears to be valuable information while withholding the essentials is a job I would entrust to nobody but you.”
    “Yet you confide much more in a boy who is incapable of Occlumency， whose magic is mediocre， and who has a direct connection into the Dark Lord‘s mind！”
    “Voldemort fears that connection，” said Dumbledore. “Not so long ago he had one small taste of what truly sharing Harry‘s mind means to him. It was pain such as he has never experienced. He will not try to possess Harry again， I am sure of it. Not in that way.”
    “I don‘t understand.”
    “Lord Voldemort‘s soul， maimed as it is， cannot bear close contact with a soul like Harry’s. Like a tongue on frozen steel， like flesh in flame – ”
    “Souls？ We were talking of minds！”
    “In the case of Harry and Lord Voldemort， to speak of one is to speak of the other.”
    Dumbledore glanced around to make sure that they were alone. They were close by the Forbidden Forest now， but there was no sign of anyone near them.
    “After you have killed me， Severus – ”
    “You refuse to tell me everything， yet you expect that small service of me！”
    snarled Snape， and real anger flared in the thin face now. “You take a great deal for granted， Dumbledore！ Perhaps I have changed my mind！”
    “You gave me your word， Severus. And while we are talking about services you owe me， I thought you agreed to keep a close eye on our young Slytherin friend？”
    Snape looked angry， mutinous. Dumbledore sighed.
    “Come to my office tonight， Severus， at eleven， and you shall not complain that I have no confidence in you…”
    They were back in Dumbledore‘s office， the windows dark， and Fawkes sat silent as Snape sat quite still， as Dumbledore walked around him， talking.
    “Harry must not know， not until the last moment， not until it is necessary，otherwise how could he have the strength to do what must be done？”
    “But what must he do？”
    “That is between Harry and me. Now listen closely， Severus. There will come a time – after my death – do not argue， do not interrupt！ There will come a time when Lord Voldemort will seem to fear for the life of his snake.”
    “For Nagini？” Snape looked astonished.
    “Precisely. If there comes a time when Lord Voldemort stops sending that snake forth to do his bidding， but keeps it safe beside him under magical protection， then， I think， it will be safe to tell Harry.”
    “Tell him what？”
    Dumbledore took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
    “Tell him that on the night Lord Voldemort tried to kill him， when Lily cast her own life between them as a shield， the Killing Curse rebounded upon Lord Voldemort，and a fragment of Voldemort‘s soul was blasted apart from the whole， and latched itself onto the only living soul left in that collapsed building. Part of Lord Voldemort lives inside Harry， and it is that which gives him the power of speech with snakes， and a connection with Lord Voldemort’s mind that he has never understood. And while that fragment of soul， unmissed by Voldemort， remains attached to and protected by Harry，Lord Voldemort cannot die.”
    Harry seemed to be watching the two men from one end of a long tunnel， they were so far away from him， their voices echoing strangely in his ears.
    “So the boy…the boy must die？” asked Snape quite calmly.
    “And Voldemort himself must do it， Severus. That is essential.”
    Another long silence. Then Snape said， “I thought…all those years…that we were protecting him for her. For Lily.”
    “We have protected him because it has been essential to teach him， to raise him，to let him try his strength，” said Dumbledore， his eyes still tight shut. “Meanwhile， the connection between them grows ever stronger， a parasitic growth. Sometimes I have thought he suspects it himself. If I know him， he will have arranged matters so that when he does set out to meet his death， it will truly mean the end of Voldemort.”
    Dumbledore opened his eyes. Snape looked horrified.
    “You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment？”
    “Don‘t be shocked， Severus. How many men and women have you watched die？”
    “Lately， only those whom I could not save，” said Snape. He stood up. “You have used me.”
    “Meaning？”
    “I have spied for you and lied for you， put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter‘s son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter – ”
    “But this is touching， Severus，” said Dumbledore seriously. “Have you grown to care for the boy， after all？”
    “For him？” shouted Snape. “Expecto Patronum！”
    From the tip of his wand burst the silver doe. She landed on the office floor，bounded once across the office， and soared out of the window. Dumbledore watched her fly away， and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to Snape， and his eyes were full of tears.
    “After all this time？”
    “Always，” said Snape.
    And the scene shifted. Now， Harry saw Snape talking to the portrait of Dumbledore behind his desk.
    “You will have to give Voldemort the correct date of Harry‘s departure from his aunt and uncle’s，” said Dumbledore. “Not to do so will raise suspicion， when Voldemort believes you so well informed. However， you must plant the idea of decoys； that， I think，ought to ensure Harry‘s safety. Try Confunding Mundungus Fletcher. And Severus， if you are forced to take part in the chase， be sure to act your part convincingly…I am counting upon you to remain in Lord Voldemort’s good books as long as possible， or Hogwarts will be left to the mercy of the Carrows…”
    Now Snape was head to head with Mundungus in an unfamiliar tavern，Mundungus‘s face looking curiously blank， Snape frowning in concentration.
    “You will suggest to the Order of the Phoenix，” Snape murmured， “that they use decoys. Polyjuice Potion. Identical Potters. It‘s the only thing that might work. You will forget that I have suggested this. You will present it as your own idea. You understand？”
    “I understand，” murmured Mundungus， his eyes unfocused…
    Now Harry was flying alongside Snape on a broomstick through a clear dark night： He was accompanied by other hodded Death Eaters， and ahead were Lupin and a Harry who was really George… A Death Eater moved ahead of Snape and raised his wand， pointing it directly at Lupin‘s back.
    “Sectumsempra！” shouted Snape.
    But the spell， intended for the Death Eater‘s wand hand， missed and hit George instead –
    And next， Snape was kneeling in Sirius‘s old bedroom. Tears were dripping from the end of his hooked nose as he read the old letter from Lily. The second page carried only a few words：
    could ever have been friends with Gellert Grindelwald. I think her mind‘s going，personally！
    Lots of love，
    Lily
    Snape took the page bearing Lily‘s signature， and her love， and tucked it inside his robes. Then he ripped in two the photograph he was also holding， so that he kept the part from which Lily laughed， throwing the portion showing James and Harry back onto the floor， under the chest of drawers…
    And now Snape stood again in the headmaster‘s study as Phineas Nigellus came hurrying into his portrait.
    “Headmaster！ They are camping in the Forest of Dean！ The Mudblood – ”
    “Do not use that word！”
    “ – the Granger girl， then， mentioned the place as she opened her bag and I heard her！”
    “Good. Very good！” cried the portrait of Dumbledore behind the headmaster‘s chair. “Now， Severus， the sword！ Do not forget that it must be taken under conditions of need and valor – and he must not know that you give it！ If Voldemort should read Harry’s mind and see you acting for him – ”
    “I know，” said Snape curtly. He approached the portrait of Dumbledore and pulled at its side. It swung forward， revealing a hidden cavity behind it from which he took the sword of Gryffindor.
    “And you still aren‘t going to tell me why it’s so important to give Potter the sword？” said Snape as he swung a traveling cloak over his robes.
    “No， I don‘t think so，” said Dumbledore’s portrait. “He will know what to do with it. And Severus， be very careful， they may not take kindly to your appearance after George Weasley‘s mishap – ”
    Snape turned at the door.
    “Don‘t worry， Dumbledore，” he said coolly. “I have a plan…”
    And Snape left the room. Harry rose up out of the Pensieve， and moments later he lay on the carpeted floor in exactly the same rooms Snape might just have closed the door.
哈利仍旧跪在斯内普旁边，直直盯着他，直到有个高高在上的冷酷声音突然在他耳边说起话来。哈利跳起来，把那只小瓶紧紧攥在手里，他以为伏地魔又回到房间来了。

　　伏地魔的声音在墙壁和地板之间回荡着，哈利这才意识到他是在对着霍格沃茨及其周边所有地区说话，这样一来霍格莫德的人和仍旧在城堡中激战的人们也能听得一清二楚，他的呼吸声如同在他们脖子后面一样。

　　那个高高冷酷的声音说：“你们战斗得很英勇，伏地魔大人知道如何褒奖勇士。”

　　“但是你们也遭受了惨重的损失，如果继续抵抗我，那你们一个个都要死。我不希望发生这种事情，巫师的血白流一滴出来都是一种浪费和损失。”

　　“伏地魔大人非常仁慈，我将下令我的部队立刻撤退。”

　　“给你们一个小时的时间，安置尸体，处理伤员。”

　　“现在我特别要跟哈利?波特说句话。你总让你的朋友去送死而不肯亲自面对我。我会在禁林中等一个小时，如果时间到了你还没有来见我，还不来投降，那时我就亲自出手了，哈利?波特，我会找到你，我会惩罚每一个试图把你藏起来的男人女人或孩子。你只有一个小时！”

　　罗恩和赫敏朝哈利拼命摇头。

　　“别听他的！”罗恩说道。

　　“没事的！”赫敏粗暴地说，“我们……我们回城堡去，如果他去禁林了拿我们就得想个新对策——”

　　她瞥了一眼斯内普的尸体，然后匆忙回到入口处。罗恩跟在她后面，哈利捡起隐身衣，朝下看着斯内普。除了被斯内普的死状和死因惊吓到以外，他什么也感觉不到。

　　他们顺着通道爬了回来，谁也没说话，哈利不知道罗恩和赫敏是否也和自己一样，脑海里还存留着伏地魔刚才的话的回声。

　　“你总让你的朋友去送死也不肯亲自面对我，我会在禁林等你一个小时……只有一个小时！”

　　城堡前面的草坪上一片狼藉，距离天亮大概还有一小时，四周却仍一片漆黑。他们三个人奋力跑向石阶。只有一只小船那么大小的狗被丢弃在他们面前，丝毫没有格洛普或他对手的影子。

　　城堡中一片不同寻常的死寂。现在闪光、爆炸声、惨叫和吼声都平息下来了。废弃的大厅入口处的石板上血迹斑斑。地上仍旧洒满了绿宝石，还有大理石和木头碎片。一部分楼梯栏杆也被摧毁了。

　　“大家都到哪儿去了？”赫敏小声说。

　　罗恩带路朝大会堂走去。哈利在门口停住了。

　　所有学院的长桌都被搬走了，屋子里挤满了人。活着的人扎堆站着，用手臂互相搂着脖子。庞弗雷夫人和助手们把伤员们抬到平台上救治。费伦泽也在伤员之中，他腰部一侧的伤口中不停地流着血，他躺在那里抽搐着，再也站不起来了。

　　牺牲的人被排成一排放在大厅中间。哈利看不见费雷德的尸体，因为他全家人把他团团围住了。乔治跪在他的前面，韦斯利太太趴在费雷德胸前，浑身颤抖着。韦斯利先生轻抚着她的头发，泪如泉涌。

　　罗恩和赫敏没跟哈利打招呼就走开了。哈利看见赫敏走到满脸肿胀血污的金妮身边拥抱她。罗恩和比尔、芙蓉、帕西在一起，他们搂着他的肩膀。金妮和赫敏朝家里人走过去时，哈利认出了费雷德身边的尸体。莱姆斯和唐克斯面色惨白的躺在那儿，安静得像是睡着了一般，他们头顶是黑沉沉的被施了魔法的天花板。

　　当哈利跌跌撞撞的从门口走回来时，原来那个大会堂忽然不见了，它变得狭小，好像萎缩了一样。他感到呼吸困难。他不敢再去看别的尸体，不敢再去看究竟还有谁为他而死。他也不敢去和韦斯利一家说话，不敢去看他们的眼睛，如果他一开始就站出来的话，弗雷德也许就不会死了……

　　他转身跑上了大理石楼梯。卢平、唐克斯……他不能再想了……他几乎想要把心拽出来，把所有内脏都拽出来，他身体内一直有什么在尖叫着……

　　城堡里空无一人了，甚至连鬼魂们也在大会堂里跟着一起哀悼死者。哈利一口气跑到校长办公室门口的滴水兽石像前才停下来，手里攥着装有斯内普记忆的瓶子。

　　“密码？”

　　“邓布利多！”哈利想也没想就这么喊道，因为他现在唯一能想到的就是邓布利多了。而令他吃惊的是，滴水兽竟然真的滑向了一边，露出身后的螺旋状楼梯。

　　但是当哈利冲进那间圆形的办公室他发现里面有一点变化。墙上挂了一圈的肖像全都空了。一个校长都没剩，可能是他们去拜访城堡其他地方的画像打听消息了。

　　哈利绝望的看了一眼挂在校长座椅后面那幅邓布利多肖像的空荡荡的画框，然后转过身。冥想盆还在柜子里的老地方。哈利把冥想盆端到桌子上，将斯内普的记忆倒进边上刻着古文字的盆里。躲进别人的大脑是件解脱……即便是斯内普的记忆也比他自己的那些强些。闪动着奇异的银白色光芒的记忆在盆里打旋转动着，哈里带着一种不管不顾毫不犹豫地把头浸入盆中，好像这样就可以暂时减轻痛苦。

　　他头朝前掉进一片阳光中，脚下是一片温暖的土地。等他站直身子，发现自己置身一个几乎废弃的操场上。遥远的天际只能看到一只巨大的烟囱。两个女孩正在来回荡秋千，一个瘦骨嶙峋的男孩躲在灌木丛后面看着她们。他的黑头发太长了，衣服很不合体，牛仔裤太短，衬衫像样式奇怪的罩衫，破烂的外衣显然是成年人穿的。

　　哈利靠近那男孩。那个时候的斯内普看上去决超不过九岁或十岁，面有菜色，矮小瘦弱。当他看着其中那个比较小的女孩荡得比姐姐越来越高时，瘦削的脸上有种难掩的渴望。

　　“莉莉，别那样！”年长一点的女孩叫道。

　　但是莉莉在秋千荡到最高点时，飞了起来，冲向天空时还发出大笑，然后她并没有掉到地上摔惨，而是像个秋千大师般在空中滑过，停留了那么久，落地时又那么轻。

　　“妈妈告诉过你别那样！”

　　佩尼用凉鞋的鞋跟触地停下了秋千，发出嘎嘎的摩擦声，然后跳起来，把手放在屁股上。

　　“妈妈说不许你那样，莉莉！”

　　“但是我没出事啊。”莉莉还是咯咯笑，“佩尼，看，看我能做这个！”

　　佩尼四下扫视了一圈，操场上除了她们还有她们并不知道的斯内普。莉莉从斯内普藏身德灌木丛中捡起一朵凋谢的花。佩尼向前走了两步，带着好奇和审视的态度。莉莉等她靠近能看清楚后，张开了手掌，那朵花在她的掌心一开一合，像是只有许多开口的奇怪牡蛎。

　　“快停下！”佩尼高叫。

　　“这也没伤到你呀。”莉莉合上手掌把花扔回地上。

　　“这是不对的！”佩尼说道，但是她的视线却跟着那朵掉落到地上的花，始终没有移开。“你怎么能做到的？”她追问道，声音里显然有一种向往。

　　“很明显，不是吗？”斯内普忍不住从灌木丛后面跳了出来。佩尼叫了一声，跑回到秋千那儿去了。但是莉莉虽然也被吓了一跳，却没有动。斯内普看起来对自己的出现感到有些抱歉，他看着莉莉，菜色的脸上渐渐涌起一阵红潮。

　　“什么很明显？”莉莉问道。

　　斯内普显得激动又紧张。他看了一眼在秋千处徘徊的佩尼，放低了声音说：“我知道你是什么人。”

　　“你什么意思？”

　　“你是……你是一个女巫。”斯内普小声说。

　　她看上去像是被冒犯了。

　　“那可不是一个好词！”

　　她转过身，昂起头，大步走回到姐姐的身边。

　　“不！”斯内普说道，他的脸红极了。哈利不明白他为什么不脱掉外面那件滑稽的外衣，除非是由于他不想把里面那件罩衫暴露出来。他追上去，宽大的外套像蝙蝠般上下扇动着，就像后来成年的他一样。

　　那对姐妹想了想，一致表示不相信他，她们抱着支撑秋千的一根柱子不放，好像那里是个安全之所。

　　“你是！”斯内普对莉莉说。“你是一个女巫！我看了你好一会儿了，但是那并没什么，我妈妈就是个女巫，而我也是一个巫师！”

　　“巫师！”她叫道。现在她从他意外出现带来的震惊中恢复过来了，“我知道你是谁了！你是那个斯内普家的孩子！他们住在河边的蜘蛛尾巷子头上！”她告诉莉莉。那种语调表示她觉得那个地址就是着恶劣的象征。“你为什么监视我们？”

　　“我没有监视！”斯内普说道，阳光下他又热又不自在，头发脏兮兮的。“我再怎么也不会监视你的！”他恶狠狠的说：“你是个麻瓜！”

　　即便佩尼不明白麻瓜是什么，从语调中她也能听出对方的意思。

　　“莉莉，我们走！”她尖声说。莉莉立刻听话离开了，边走边盯着斯内普。他看着她们大步穿过操场大门，哈利发现他脸上全都是苦涩的失望神情，同时也明白了斯内普计划着这一刻好久了，只是一切都搞砸了……

　　这一段情景消失了，并且在哈利意识到之前又重组出另外一番景象。他正站在一个小树丛中，透过树木能看见闪着金光的河水。树冠在地上洒下绿色阴凉，两个孩子盘腿面对面坐在地上。斯内普把外衣脱掉了，在光线阴暗处他那件滑稽的罩衫显得不那么古怪了。

　　“……如果你在校外用魔法，魔法部会惩罚你的，你就会收到传讯信。”

　　“但是我已经在学校外用魔法了呀！”

　　“我们没关系，我们还没有魔杖呢！孩子总是忍不住嘛，所以他们不追究。但是一旦你十一岁了，”他重重的点头道，“他们开始教你魔法，那时就得小心了。”

　　一阵很短的沉默。莉莉捡起一根小树枝，在半空中转圈挥动，哈利知道她在想象魔杖尖端发出来的光芒。然后她扔掉了树枝，凑到斯内普跟前说：“这肯定是真的，对吧？不是开玩笑？佩尼说你骗我，她说根本没有什么霍格沃茨学院。你说的是真的，对吧？”

　　“对我们来说是真的。”斯内普说。“对她来说不是。但是我们会收到入学通知的，你和我！”

　　“真的？”莉莉小声说。

　　“那当然！”斯内普说道。不顾自己的糟糕发型和滑稽衣服，以一种令人难忘的怪姿势四脚朝天躺在莉莉面前，脸上挂满对未来的自信。

　　“那信真的会是猫头鹰送来吗？”莉莉小声说。

　　“通常都是。”斯内普说，“但是你生在麻瓜家里，所以学校里会有人去跟你父母解释一下。”

　　“生不生在麻瓜家区别很大吗？”

　　斯内普犹豫了一下，他的黑眼睛里的深深阴郁，从苍白的脸移到深红头发上。

　　他说：“不，没有什么区别。”

　　“那就好。”莉莉松了口气，很明显她一直在担心。

　　“你会好多魔法呢。”斯内普说，“我看见了，我一直在看你……”

　　他的声音低了下去，然而她并没在听，而是躺在铺满落叶的地上，向上望着满树绿茵。他像在操场上那天一样向往地看着她。

　　“你家里怎么样了？”莉莉问道。

　　他的眼睛里仿佛出现了一道裂痕。

　　“很好。”他说。

　　“他们没再吵架吗？”

　　“哦，是的，他们一直吵。”斯内普说道。他抓起一大把树叶子，撕得粉碎，显然他并没意识到自己正在干嘛。“但是也吵不长了，我会离开家的。”

　　“你把爸爸不喜欢魔法吧？”

　　“他什么都不喜欢……得那么深。”斯内普说。

　　“西弗勒斯！”

　　她叫他名字的时候，斯内普嘴角浮现一个微小的笑涡。

　　“什么？”

　　“再跟我说说摄魂怪的事！”

　　“你想知道什么？”

　　“如果我在学校外面用魔法……”

　　“他们不会因为那个就把你丢给摄魂怪的！摄魂怪是惩罚那些真干了坏事的人的。他们守卫着魔法世界的阿兹卡班监狱。你不会进阿兹卡班的，你太……”

　　他的脸又红了，更加用力撕手中的叶子。忽然哈利听见身后传来一阵轻微的沙沙声，他回头，看到藏在树后的佩尼露出了形迹。

　　“佩尼！”莉莉惊讶的说道，声音里也有欢迎的味道，但斯内普则蹦了起来。

　　“现在是谁监视谁了？”他喊道，“你想干什么？”

　　被逮个正着的佩尼警觉的喘着气。哈利觉得她是费了好大力气才说出那一串伤人的话的。

　　“看看你穿的都是什么呀？”她指着斯内普胸前说道：“你妈妈的衬衫？”

　　咔嚓一声响。佩尼头上的一根枝干落了下来，莉莉惊叫，那条枝子打在佩尼的肩膀上，她踉跄着后退，大哭起来。

　　“佩尼！”

　　但是佩尼已经跑走了，莉莉质问斯内普：“是你干的吗？”

　　“不是。”他看上去即傲慢又恐慌。

　　“就是你干的！”她向后退去，“就是你！你伤害她了！”

　　“不——我没有！”

　　但是谎言没有说服莉莉。狠狠瞪了斯内普一眼，她跑出小树丛追姐姐去了，留下了迷惑又痛苦的斯内普。

　　场景又重组了。哈利环视四周，他正在九又四分之三月台上，斯内普站在他身旁，微微有点驼背，身边是个和他一样面黄肌瘦相貌苦涩的女人。斯内普正盯着不远处的一家子看，那家的两个女孩子跟父母站得有点远，莉莉看起来正在求姐姐。哈利走过去听她们说些什么。

　　“对不起，佩尼，对不起，听着——”她抓住姐姐的手紧紧握住，佩尼用力想要把手拽出来。“可能我一到那儿——不，听着佩尼，我一到那儿就去找邓不利多教授，劝他改变主意！”

　　“我——不——要——去！”佩尼说道，把手从妹妹那儿拽出来，“你以为我想去什么愚蠢的城堡学做……”

　　她暗淡的目光越过站台，猫咪们在主人臂弯里瞄瞄叫着，猫头鹰在笼子中振翅鸮叫，有些学生已经换上了黑色长袍，有的在往喷着红色蒸汽的机车上搬行李，有的在暑假分别后互相高兴的打着招呼。

　　“——你觉得我想当——怪胎？”

　　莉莉的眼里充满了泪水，她的手终于被佩尼拽开了。

　　“我不是怪胎！”莉莉说道：“那个词太可怕了。”

　　“那就是你要去的地方。”佩尼带着某种深意说道，“就是个怪胎学校，你和斯内普家那个男孩……都是怪胎，把你们和正常人分开来正好，省得我们不安全。”

　　莉莉朝自己的父母看了一眼，她的父母正在环视站台四周，看上去正享受着这里的气氛。然后她回头看姐姐，重重的低声说道：

　　“你写信给我们校长求他收你做学生时可不觉得那是个怪胎学校吧？”

　　佩尼满脸通红。“求？我没求他！”

　　“我看见他的回信了，他人很好。”

　　“你不应该看——”佩尼低声说，“那是我的隐私……你怎么能……”

　　莉莉朝斯内普小小的一瞥让佩尼恍然大悟。

　　“是他找到的！你和他在我房间里鬼鬼祟祟干坏事！”

　　“不！没有鬼鬼祟祟——”莉莉分辩道，“西弗勒斯看见了信封，他不信麻瓜可以写信到霍格沃茨，就这样！他说邮局肯定有乔装成麻瓜的巫师来保证……”

　　“显然巫师们把触角伸到每个角落了！”佩尼说道，她脸色苍白的程度就像刚才脸红得那么厉害。“怪胎！”她打了妹妹一巴掌，然后跳下站台回到父母身边去了。

　　这段场景又模糊了。接下来是斯内普在驰骋乡间的霍格沃茨快车车厢间匆匆走过。他已经换上了校服长袍，可能这是他头一次有机会换下那些可怕的麻瓜衣服。后来他在一个车厢门口停下来，里面有一群吵闹的男孩在说话。莉莉坐在靠窗的角落里，把脸贴在窗玻璃上。

　　斯内普拉开车厢门坐到莉莉对面。她看了他一眼，又转过头去看窗外，她一直在哭。

　　“我不想跟你说话。”她的声音紧绷着。

　　“为什么？”

　　“佩尼她，她恨，恨我。因为我们看了她给邓不利多的信。”

　　“那又怎么样？”

　　她用极其厌恶的眼神看着他。

　　“她是我的姐姐！”

　　“她只是个——”他很快闭嘴，而莉莉由于急着擦眼泪，没有注意到他说了什么。

　　“但是我们要去！”他难言兴奋的说道，“就这样，我们就要到霍格沃茨了！”

　　她点点头，擦擦眼睛，不管怎么样，还是勉强笑了笑。

　　“你最好进斯莱特林学院！”斯内普说，由于她心情好了点而备受鼓舞。

　　“斯莱特林学院？”

　　车厢里有个男孩本来对斯内普和莉莉没有任何兴趣，直到听见这个词，才把目光移过来。哈利之前把注意力都集中在车窗边的两人身上，此刻他看见，自己父亲那头浅黑色头发跟斯内普有点像，然而他脸上那种娇生惯养的气色，是斯内普绝对不会有的。

　　“谁想进斯莱特林学院？我看我还是离开这儿吧，你不走吗？”詹姆微笑着问懒洋洋躺在他对面的男孩。哈利意识到那是小天狼星，但是小天狼星没有笑。

　　“我全家都是斯莱特林学院的”,他说

　　“哎呀！”詹姆说，“我看你也一定是！”

　　小天狼星咧嘴笑了。

　　“也许我会打破这个传统。要是让你选，你想进哪个学院？”

　　詹姆凭空作了一个抽剑的动作。

　　“格兰芬多，勇士成堆的学院！跟我爸爸一样！”

　　斯内普带着小小的轻蔑哼了声。詹姆扭头看着他。

　　“你觉得有什么不妥吗？”

　　“没有，”斯内普说道，虽然他那小小的讥笑明显不是这个意思，“只要你甘愿当个四肢发达头脑简单的家伙……”

　　“那你想进哪个学院呢？看起来你好像四肢不发达头脑也很简单。”小天狼星插话了。

　　詹姆大笑，莉莉站了起来，脸更红了，厌恶的看着詹姆和天狼星。

　　“走吧，西弗勒斯，我们另找个车厢。”

　　“噢噢噢噢噢噢……”

　　詹姆和天狼星模仿着她的冷傲语调，詹姆在斯内普经过自己跟前时试图绊倒他。

　　“回头见，鼻涕精！”一个声音喊道，车门砰的关闭。

　　这个场景又一次模糊消失了。

　　哈利站在斯内普身后，他们面前是被烛光照亮的学院长桌，桌边是一排排全神贯注的脸。然后麦格教授叫道：“莉莉?伊万斯！”

　　他看见自己的母亲颤抖着双腿向前走去，坐到凳子上。麦格教授把分院帽放在她的头上，帽子触到那头深红色头发还不到一秒钟就喊道：“格兰芬多！”

　　哈利听见斯内普发出一声轻微的叹息。莉莉摘下帽子交回麦格教授手中，然后急忙跑向正在欢呼的格兰芬多学生们，但是同时她回头看了斯内普一眼，脸上带着小小的苦笑。哈利看见天狼星站起来给她让座，她看了看他，认出他就是火车上那人，于是抱着双臂坚决一扭脸，只把后背对着他了。

　　排队点名在继续。哈利看见卢平、小矮星彼得和自己的父亲都被分到格兰芬多学院了。最后，只剩下十几个学生有待分配，麦格教授终于叫到了斯内普的名字。

　　哈利跟着他一起走到凳子跟前，看着他把分院帽戴在头上,“斯莱特林！”分院帽喊道。

　　西弗勒斯?斯内普走到大厅的另一边，远离了莉莉，斯莱特林的学生拼命冲他欢呼，他坐到卢修斯?马尔福身边，对方轻拍他的后背，胸前的级长徽章闪耀不停。

　　然后场景变了……

　　莉莉和斯内普走在城堡大院里，显然在争吵。哈利急忙追上去听。等他追到跟前，才意识到那两人长高了许多。看来距离分院那个时候已经过去好几年了。

　　“……你觉得我们本来应该是朋友？”是斯内普在说话。“最好的朋友？”

　　“我们现在也是朋友，西弗，可是我不喜欢你跟着整天鬼混的那群人！对不起，但是我的确很讨厌艾弗里和穆尔塞伯！穆尔塞伯！他是什么人啊，西弗，他是个恶心的虫子！你知道有一天他要对玛丽?麦克唐纳做什么吗？”

　　莉莉走到一根柱子前倚在上面，向上看着那张瘦削、菜色的脸。

　　“那不算什么的。”斯内普说，“只是个玩笑，就这样……”

　　“那是黑魔法，如果你觉得那样好玩的话……”

　　“那波特和他几个兄弟的事又算什么呢？”斯内普问道，说话时他的脸又涨红了，看上去简直无法控制内心的憎恶之情。

　　“波特做什么了？”莉莉说。

　　“他们晚上偷偷摸摸溜出去。那个卢平很怪，他一直出去，到什么地方去？”

　　“他病了。”莉莉说，“他们说他病了……”

　　“每当满月的时候就病？”斯内普说。

　　“我知道你那套理论。”莉莉的声音听起来冷冷的。“为什么你总对他们的事感兴趣，为什么你那么想知道他们晚上在干吗？”

　　“我只是想让你知道他们不像所有人说得那么好！”

　　他直勾勾盯着莉莉，让她脸红了。

　　“至少他们没用黑魔法。”她放低了声音，“你真是太忘恩负义了！我听说那天晚上的事了。你偷着跑进打人柳下面的密道，是詹姆?波特把你从那里面救出来的——”

　　斯内普的整个脸都扭曲着，他念叨着：“救了我，救了我，你觉得他是英雄对吧？他是在救他自己的人！你不会——我不让你——”

　　“不让我？不让我干什么？”

　　莉莉明亮的绿眼睛变得狭长，斯内普不由得退了一步。

　　“我不是那个意思……我只是不想让你被耍——他喜欢你，詹姆?波特喜欢你！”这些话好像不受控制的喷了出来，“而且他还……所有人都觉得……魁地奇大英雄——”斯内普的痛苦和憎恨让他语无伦次了，莉莉的眉毛则越挑越高。

　　“我知道詹姆?波特是个自大狂。”她打断了斯内普。“不需要你告诉我这个，但是穆尔塞伯和艾弗里的‘幽默’简直就是邪恶，邪恶！西弗，我不明白你怎么和他们成了朋友。”

　　哈利怀疑斯内普有没有听见她对穆尔塞伯和艾弗里的指责。反正当莉莉说詹姆?波特不好的时候，他的整个身体都放松下来，他们走开时斯内普的脚步中又充满了活力了……

　　然后这个场景消失了……

　　哈利又一次看见普通巫师等级测验的黑魔法防御术考试之后的情景了，他看着斯内普走出来，信步走出城堡，坐在了一棵山毛榉附近，没注意到詹姆、天狼星、卢平和小矮星彼得正好就在那树下。但是哈利这次只是远远看着，因为他知道詹姆把西弗勒斯倒挂起来之后会做什么，他知道发生了什么事，他们说了什么话，他不喜欢再听一遍……他看见莉莉走到四人组那里，然后又替斯内普说话，远远的他听见斯内普又羞又怒的冲她喊那个无法原谅的词：“泥巴种！”

　　场景转换。

　　“对不起。”

　　“我不想听。”

　　“对不起！”

　　“你省省吧！”

　　现在是晚上，莉莉穿着睡袍抱着手臂站在格兰芬多塔入口处的胖女士肖像跟前。

　　“玛丽说你叫嚣要睡在这儿，我才出来的。”

　　“我当时……我真的是……我绝不是故意喊你泥巴种的，我只是……”

　　“说溜嘴了！”莉莉的声音没有一点同情，“太晚了。我给你找了好几年借口了。我的朋友们都不明白我怎么会跟你说话。你和你那帮珍贵的小食死徒朋友们——瞧，你都不否认！你也不否认你要干什么了！你等不及要跟着那个人干了，对吧？”

　　他张了张嘴，但是什么也没说，又闭紧了。

　　“我再也装不下去了，你选了你的路，我也选了我的。”

　　“不——听着，我不是故意……”

　　“——叫我泥巴种对吧？但是你管我的每个朋友都叫泥巴种，西弗勒斯，那我在你眼里又有什么区别呢？”

　　他还在拼命找说辞，然而莉莉轻蔑的看了看他，然后就爬回去了……

　　走廊消失了，记忆场景这次重组花的时间长了点。哈利觉得自己在许多不断变换的形状和颜色间飞行，直到周围固化下来，他已经站在一座小山山顶，周围一片冷冷的夜色。夜风呼啸着从几乎掉光叶子的树枝间吹过。成年斯内普喘息着站在那里，手里紧紧攥着魔杖，像是在等什么人……即使知道自己不会被怎么样，哈利也被他身上流露出的恐惧感染了，越过斯内普的肩膀望去，哈利在猜测他等的是谁……

　　然后一道犀利的眩目白光破空飞来，哈利还以为是闪电。但斯内普双膝跪倒在地，魔杖也脱手飞出。

　　“不要杀我！”

　　“我并没想那么做。”

　　邓不利多移形幻影的声响全都淹没在吹过树枝间的风声中了。他站在斯内普面前，袍子下摆猎猎飘动，他的脸被魔杖发出的光照得发亮。

　　“那么，西弗勒斯，伏地魔大人有什么口信带给我吗？”

　　“不……没有口信——我是为自己的事来的！”

　　斯内普扭搓着双手，散乱的黑发在风中飞舞，他看上去有点癫狂。

　　“我，我来是想警告，不，是请求——求您——”

　　邓不利多轻弹魔杖，虽然叶子和树枝一直在夜风中作响，但他们面对面站着的那块地方却十分安静。

　　“一个食死徒会请求我做什么呢？”

　　“那个，那个预言……特里劳妮教授说的那个预言……”

　　“啊，对了，”邓不利多说道，“关于那个预言你告诉了伏地魔多少？”

　　“所有——我听到的所有！”斯内普说，“这就是为什么——就是因为这个——他想要莉莉?伊万斯！”

　　“那个预言没提到女人。”邓不利多说道，“只提到一个生于七月末的男孩——”

　　“你知道我指的是什么！他认为那就是她的儿子，他要去抓她了，然后把他们都杀了——”

　　“如果她对你来说这么重要，”邓不利多说道，“那伏地魔肯定会饶了她，你能不去为她求情吗，以她的儿子为交换条件？”

　　“我做了——我是这么求他的——”

　　“你让我恶心，”邓不利多说，哈利从未见过他的声音有那么多憎恶。斯内普好像颤抖了一下。“你不关心她丈夫和儿子的性命吧？他们死了，你就得到你想要的了？”

　　斯内普什么也没说，只是直直看着邓不利多。

　　“那就把他们藏起来！”他嘶哑着声音说道，“保证她——他们的安全，求您了！”

　　“那么作为回报你能为我做些什么呢，西弗勒斯？”

　　“回……回报？”斯内普张口结舌的看着邓不利多，哈利本以为他会抗议，然而过了很久之后他说，“我什么都可以做。”

　　山顶的景象褪去了，然后哈利站在了邓布利多的办公室里，他听见一种可怕的声音，像是受伤野兽的哀嚎。斯内普深陷在椅子里，邓布利多站在一旁冷冷俯视着他。过了一会儿，斯内普抬起头，看上去像是在痛苦中过了一百多年。

　　“我以为……你能……保护她……”

　　“她和詹姆信错了人，”邓布利多说道，“比你错得还厉害，西弗勒斯，不能指望着伏地魔能饶了她吧？”

　　斯内普的呼吸变得细弱起来。

　　“她的儿子幸存下来了。”邓布利多说道。

　　斯内普微微抽动了一下，像是赶走了一只恶心的苍蝇。

　　“她的儿子还活着。他一双她的眼睛，一模一样的眼睛。你还记得莉莉?伊万斯的眼睛吧？”

　　“不要！”斯内普咆哮着，“完了……死了……”

　　“你觉得后悔吗，西弗勒斯？”

　　“我宁肯……宁肯死的是我……”

　　“但是现在你这样有什么用呢？”邓布利多冷冷地说，“如果你爱莉莉?伊万斯，如果你真的爱她，那么你以后该走哪条路就很清楚了。”

　　斯内普沉浸在痛苦的阴霾之中，邓布利多的话仿佛经过了很久才传入他耳中。

　　“你——你的意思是？”

　　“你知道她怎么死的，为什么会死，别让她白死。帮我保护她的儿子吧。”

　　“他不需要保护了，黑魔王已经消失了——”

　　“黑魔王会回来的，那时哈利?波特会非常危险。”

　　过了很久，斯内普才重新恢复过来，终于，他说道：“好吧，好吧。但是永远……永远不要告诉别人，邓布利多！这是我们俩之间的秘密！我受不了……尤其是波特的儿子……你发誓！”

　　“你要我发誓，西弗勒斯，永远不把你最真实的一面告诉他？”邓布利多叹了口气，看了看斯内普那张激动痛苦的脸。“如果你坚持的话……”

　　办公室的景象消失又立刻重组起来。斯内普在邓布利多面前来回踱步。

　　“——像他爸爸一样是个庸才，又傲慢自大，爱破坏规矩，爱出风头，鲁莽冲动——”

　　“你对他有偏见，西弗勒斯，”邓布利多从《变形日报》中抬起头来，说道：“别人都说那孩子很谦虚，讨人喜欢，也蛮有天赋的，我个人也觉得他是个有魅力的孩子。”

　　邓布利多翻了一页报纸，头也不抬的说道：“盯着点奇洛好吗？”

　　一片颜色搅动起来，然后周围黑了下来。斯内普和邓布利多站在大厅入口不远处，最后一帮从圣诞舞会出来的人正往宿舍走。

　　“怎么样？”邓布利多咕哝道。

　　“卡卡罗夫的黑魔标记也开始变黑了。他慌成一团了，害怕被算老帐，你知道黑魔王倒台后他帮着魔法部做了多少事。”斯内普从侧面看着邓布利多弯钩鼻子的侧影，“只要黑魔标记亮起来卡卡罗夫就会逃走。”

　　“是吗？”邓布利多轻轻的说，这时芙蓉?德拉库尔和罗杰?戴维斯说笑着从前面走过去了。“那你打算跟他一起逃吗？”

　　“不，”斯内普说道，他的黑眸落在芙蓉和罗杰消失的身影上。“我可不是他那样的懦夫。”

　　“你当然不是，”邓布利多肯定道，“到现在为止你比卡卡罗夫勇敢多了。你知道，我有时觉得我们分院分得太草率了……”他走开了，留下了看上去有些吃惊的斯内普……

　　哈利又站在校长办公室了，现在是晚上，邓布利多侧身跌坐进桌子后面的椅子里，显然正处于半昏迷状态，他的右手垂在一侧，颜色焦黑。斯内普正用魔杖指在那只手的手腕上，念着咒语，同时用左手将满满一杯金色药水灌进邓布利多喉咙里。过了片刻，邓布利多眼帘颤动，睁开了眼睛。

　　“为什么？”斯内普单刀直入的说，“为什么你要戴上那个戒指？那上面被下了咒语，你肯定知道的，那为什么还要碰它？”

　　邓布利多面前的桌子上放着马沃洛?冈特的戒指。戒指断裂了，格兰芬多之剑就放在它旁边。邓布利多面上神色痛苦。“我……挺傻的，我被强烈的诱惑了……”

　　“被什么诱惑了？”

　　邓布利多没有回答。

　　“你还能回到这儿简直就是奇迹！”斯内普似乎很生气，“那枚戒指上被下了极其强大的咒语，只求能控制住它就很不错了，我只能把咒语封闭在你的一只手上一段时间……”

　　邓布利多抬起那只焦黑的废手，那表情好像在看什么有趣的东西。

　　“你已经做得很好了，西弗勒斯，你觉得我还有多长时间？”

　　邓布利多语气很平和，就像在问明天的天气。斯内普犹豫片刻说道：“我也说不准。也许还有一年。没办法除掉这个咒语，早晚会扩散的，它是那种时间越长就越厉害的咒语。”

　　邓布利多笑了。得知自己只有不到一年的命看起来对他没多少打击。

　　“有你在身边我算是幸运的，很幸运了，西弗勒斯。”

　　“如果你早点找我，我可能还能给你争取更多的时间。”斯内普不快的说，他盯着碎裂的戒指和那把剑。“你觉得打碎戒指就能消灭其中的恶咒吗？”

　　“差不多吧……我当时毫无疑问失去意识了……”邓布利多说道。他挣扎着坐直了身体。“那么，这也让以后的事简单多了。”

　　斯内普感到迷惑不解，而邓布利多笑了。“我已经知道了伏地魔在我身边安排了人的计划。他打算让可怜的马尔福那孩子来杀我。”

　　斯内普坐进邓布利多办公桌对面那张哈里经常坐的那张椅子里，哈利觉得他还想继续讨论邓布利多那只废手的问题，然而邓布利多抬起另一只手做了个拒绝再谈的手势。

　　斯内普皱眉说道：“黑魔王并没指望德拉科能够成功，这只是惩罚卢修斯上次的失败而已，让德拉科的父母看着他失手被抓，慢慢的折磨他们。”

　　“那就是说，那孩子跟我一样被判了死刑，”邓布利多说道，“那么一旦德拉科失败了，接替他继续完成任务的人就应该是你吧？”

　　短暂的静默。

　　“我认为那就是黑魔王的计划。”

　　“伏地魔预见到在不久的将来他不再需要一个霍格沃茨的奸细了吗？”

　　“是的，他相信他很快就能把整个学校占领。”

　　“那么一旦学校真的落入他的魔掌，”邓布利多轻声说道：“你曾经向我发誓要尽你所有力量保护霍格沃茨的学生们对吧？”

　　斯内普费力地点了点头。

　　“很好。那么现在，你最首要的任务是弄清楚德拉科究竟想干什么。一个受惊的孩子无论对别人还是对他自己都可能造成伤害。帮助他，保护他，他会接受的，他喜欢你——”

　　“——自从他父亲失势后他就远没那么喜欢我了。德拉科说都是我的错，他觉得我篡夺了卢修斯的位置。”

　　“都一样，试试看吧。那孩子的阴谋可能会害了无辜的人，那比我的性命重要的多。不过最终把他从伏地魔的怒火中解救出来的办法只有一个。”

　　斯内普挑眉，带着讽刺的口气问道：“你想让他杀了你？”

　　“当然不是。我想让你杀了我。”

　　屋子里沉寂了很久，直到被一种奇怪的滴答声打破。那是凤凰福克斯正在咬鱼骨的声音。

　　“我现在就动手怎么样？”斯内普的声音里有浓重的讥讽味道，“或者再等一会儿，等你琢磨好了自己的墓志铭以后我再动手？”

　　“哦，不是现在，”邓布利多笑着说，“我敢说那个时刻该出现时自然就会出现，照今晚的情形看来。”他暗示着自己那只枯萎的手说道，“我肯定过不了一年。”

　　“要是你不怕死，”斯内普粗暴的说，“干吗不让德拉科下手呢？”

　　“那孩子的灵魂还没堕落到那个地步。”邓布利多说，“我不能让他的灵魂因为我被毁掉。”

　　“那我的灵魂就堕落到那个地步了，对吧，邓布利多？那我的灵魂怎么办？”

　　“你很明白，帮助一个老人解除痛苦和屈辱究竟是不是件伤害灵魂的事。”邓布利多说，“我求你帮我这个大忙，西弗勒斯，因为我已经死定了，就象查得利炮弹队肯定要继续垫底那么肯定。我承认我想要死的痛快一点，这样就可以从一大堆烦心事里面解脱出来。烦心事可多了，就说格雷伯克吧，听说伏地魔把他招降了，还有亲爱的贝拉特里克斯，她总是喜欢跟自己的猎物玩一会儿再吃掉它。”

　　他声音很轻快，但是他的一双蓝眼睛像往常盯着哈利那样盯着斯内普，好像他们正在讨论的那个灵魂就在眼前。最终斯内普还是勉强点了点头。

　　邓布利多看起来很满意。

　　“谢谢你，西弗勒斯……”

　　办公室的景象消失了，现在斯内普和邓布利多一起在晨曦中漫步在废弃的城堡空地上。

　　“你和波特在干什么？这些天整晚你们都在一起。”斯内普突然问道。

　　邓布利多看上去很疲倦。

　　“为什么？你不再关他的禁闭了？西弗勒斯，那孩子应该多花时间在屋里而不是在外面跑。”

　　“他又变得像他爸爸一样了——”

　　“也许只是表面上像而已，他的本质还是更像他妈妈的。我和哈利在一起因为我有很多事要和他谈，必须告诉他一些信息，省得以后来不及说。”

　　“信息……”斯内普重复这个词，“你信任他……却不信任我。”

　　“这不是信任与否的问题。你我都知道我没有多少时间了，我必须告诉那孩子他必须知道的东西，这很重要。”

　　“那为什么你不告诉我那些信息呢？”

　　“我觉得不该把所有蛋都放在同一个篮子里，特别是不能放在一只总在伏地魔身边徘徊的篮子里。”

　　“是你叫我接近他的！”

　　“是的，而且你做的非常非常好。别以为我低估了你的处境有多危险，西弗勒斯，能传给伏地魔看似有价值的信息同时又能保密，这个工作除了你能胜任之外我没有可信任的人。”

　　“但是你更信任那个不会用大脑封闭术的孩子，他的魔法平庸，而且还和黑魔王的思维直接相通！”

　　“伏地魔害怕那种思维的相通！”邓不利多说道，“不久前他还小小的尝到了和哈利共享思维的苦头。那是一种他从没体验过的痛苦。他不会再想要去控制哈利，我肯定，至少不是通过那种方法。”

　　“我不明白。”

　　“伏地魔那残缺的灵魂不能忍受与一个像哈利那样的灵魂接触。就像把舌头放在冻铁上，就像把肉放在火上烤——”

　　“灵魂？可我们说的是思维！”

　　“对于哈利和伏地魔来说，这两个是一回事。”

　　邓不利多环视四周，确定这里只有他们俩。他们已经走到禁林边上，但没发现有人偷听的迹象。

　　“你杀了我以后，西弗勒斯——”

　　“你什么都不告诉我，却还指望我给你帮那个小忙！”斯内普咆哮着，他瘦削的脸上闪动着实实在在的愤怒。“你认为这一切都想当然，邓不利多！也许我得变卦了！”

　　“你对我发过誓的，西弗勒斯，而且当我们说道你要替我办事时，我想你是同意要好好照顾你那位斯莱特林小朋友的！”

　　斯内普看起来既愤怒又不情愿。邓不利多叹气道。

　　“今晚十一点钟到我办公室来，西弗勒斯，那时你就不会抱怨我不信任你了……”

　　他们又回到了邓不利多的办公室，窗外一片黑暗。凤凰福克斯静静呆着，斯内普也安静的坐着，邓不利多围着他踱步子，一边在说话。

　　“不到最后一刻，不到必要的时候，哈利不应该知道，否则他怎么能有勇气来做该做的事呢？”

　　“什么是他该做的事？”

　　“那是哈利和我之间的事，现在好好听着，西弗勒斯。我死以后会有那么一天，不要跟我争，别打断我！会有那么一天伏地魔会为他的那条蛇而感到担心。”

　　“担心纳吉尼？”斯内普很震惊。

　　“没错。只要有一天伏地魔不再派那条蛇出去执行命令，而是把它用魔法保护起来，我想那时，就是告诉哈利的时候。”

　　“告诉他什么？”

　　邓不利多深深吸了口气，闭上了眼睛。

　　“告诉他在伏地魔企图杀死他的那个晚上，当莉莉用生命为他立起一道保护屏障时，索命咒反弹到伏地魔身上，而伏地魔的一片灵魂也撕裂开来，寄生在那栋倒塌建筑物中唯一活着的灵魂上了。伏地魔的一部分在哈利体内活动着，这也是为什么他能与蛇交谈、他的思维能与伏地魔相通的原因。只要伏地魔丢失的那片灵魂碎片还在哈利身上被保护得好好的，伏地魔就死不了。”

　　哈利好像是从一条长长的隧道中看着另一头的两个人，他们离他那么远，他们的声音回荡在耳朵里，显得如此陌生。

　　“那么那孩子……那孩子必须死？”斯内普相当冷静地说。

　　“而且必须是伏地魔自己动手，西弗勒斯，这很重要。”

　　又是很长一段时间的沉默。然后斯内普开口道：“我以为……这么多年来……我们都在为她保护他，为莉莉。”

　　“我们是一直在保护他，因为必须教他、培养他，让他能够拥有足够的勇气。”邓不利多仍旧紧闭双眼。“同时，伏地魔和他之间的联系像寄生虫一样在滋长。有时我觉得他自己也怀疑过，如果我料得不错，他安排好一切后肯定会去赴死的，那就意味着伏地魔的末日到了。”

　　邓不利多睁开了眼睛，斯内普看起来十分惊恐。

　　“你一直保护他的生命就是为了让他在关键时刻去死？”

　　“别这么惊讶，西弗勒斯，你曾经眼看着多少人死去啊？”

　　“以前那些都是我救不了的。”斯内普说道，他站了起来。“你利用了我。”

　　“什么意思？”

　　“我为你做间谍，为你说谎，为你身陷险境。我做的一切都是为了要保护莉莉?波特的儿子。现在你告诉我把他养大就是为了把他像猪一样宰——”

　　“这很令我感动，西弗勒斯，”邓不利多严肃的说道，“但是说到底，毕竟你已经变得想要保护那孩子了吧？”

　　“保护他？”斯内普大叫：“护法现身！”

　　他魔杖尖端跳出一只银色的母鹿。她落在办公室地板上，跳着穿过屋子，飞出了窗户。邓不利多看着她飞走，在那银色光芒消退后他转身去看斯内普，他的眼中充满泪水。

　　“一直以来都是这样吗？”

　　“永远都是。”斯内普说道。

　　场景又变了。这次哈利看见斯内普在办公桌后面冲着邓不利多的画像说话。

　　“你得告诉伏地魔哈利从他姨妈家出发的正确日期，”邓不利多说，“伏地魔知道你掌握很多信息，如果不这么做会引起怀疑。但是，你必须蒙骗过他，我想那样可以保证哈利的安全。试试去找蒙顿格斯?弗莱奇帮你。还有，西弗勒斯，如果你不得不参与追踪，那么你要尽量别露出马脚，要演得像一点……我就靠你来蒙骗伏地魔了，越久越好，否则霍格沃茨就会落入魔掌。”

　　现在斯内普正在一间不熟悉的酒馆里跟蒙顿格斯交头接耳。蒙顿格斯满脸迷茫空洞，而斯内普则眉头紧锁。

　　“你得去提醒凤凰社的人，让他们伪装起来，用复方汤剂，弄几个一模一样的波特。只有那样才管用。你要忘记是我告诉你的，你要表现得是你自己的主意，明白了吗？”

　　“明白。”蒙顿格斯嘟囔着，目光散乱。

　　现在哈利正在斯内普身边，跟着他骑着扫帚一起飞行穿过夜空。他身边有一群食死徒围着，前面是卢平和伪装成哈利的乔治……一个食死徒来到斯内普前面举起了魔杖，指向卢平的后背。

　　“神锋无影！”斯内普喊道。

　　但是这道本来冲那食死徒拿魔杖手而去的咒语却打偏了，撞在乔治身上。

　　下一个场景，斯内普跪在小天狼星老房子的卧室里。当他读着莉莉从前的信时，眼泪顺着他的鹰勾鼻子不停滑落。信的第二页只有几个字。

　　“不能再和格林沃德做朋友了，我觉得她一定是疯了！

　　爱你的莉莉”

　　斯内普把有莉莉签名的那一页折起来揣进袍子里，然后把手中拿着的照片撕成两半，留下有莉莉笑容的那一半，把有詹姆和哈利的那一半扔回到柜子底下的地上……

　　然后斯内普又一次站在校长办公室里，菲尼亚斯?奈杰勒斯匆忙的跑回到自己的画像中来。

　　“校长！他们在森林里安营扎寨呢，那个泥巴种……”

　　“别用那个词！”

　　“——那个叫格兰杰的女孩，打开包的时候提到了那个地方，我听见了！”

　　“很好，非常好！”校长椅后面的邓不利多肖像大声说道，“现在，西弗勒斯，那把剑！别忘了只有在必要和他有足够勇气的情况下——不能让他知道你把剑给了哈利！伏地魔透过哈利的思维能看到你做了什么——”

　　“我知道，”斯内普敷衍道，他走到邓不利多肖像跟前一拉，画像滑开，出现一个隐蔽的洞口，他从里面取出了格兰芬多之剑。

　　“你还没告诉我为什么把剑给波特那么重要呢？”斯内普一边说一边穿上飞行斗篷。

　　“不，我觉得不用。”邓不利多的画像说道，“他知道用剑来做什么。西弗勒斯，你要特别当心，乔治?韦斯莱被打伤之后他们见到你不会给你好脸色的——”

　　斯内普在门口转过身来。

　　“别担心，邓不利多，”他冷静地说，“我已经有主意了……”

　　斯内普离开了房间。哈利从冥想盆中抬起头来，片刻之后他就躺在铺了地毯的地板上，仿佛斯内普刚刚才把房间门关上。


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Chapter 32 The Elder Wand
The world had ended, so why had the battle not ceased, the castle fallen silent in horror, and every combatant laid down their arms? Harry’s mind was in free fall, spinning out of control, unable to grasp the impossibility, because Fred Weasley could not be dead, the evidence of all his senses must be lying–And then a body fell past the hole blown into the side of the school and curses flew in at them from the darkness, hitting the wall behind their heads.
“Get down!” Harry shouted, as more curses flew through the night: He and Ron had both grabbed Hermione and pulled her to the floor, but Percy lay across Fred’s body, shielding it from further harm, and when Harry shouted “Percy, come on, we’ve got to move!” he shook his head.
“Percy!” Harry saw tear tracks streaking the grime coating Ron’s face as he seized his elder brother’s shoulders and pulled, but Percy would not budge. “Percy, you can’t do anything for him! We’re going to–”
Hermione screamed, and Harry, turning, did not need to ask why. A monstrous spider the size of a small car was trying to climb through the huge hole in the wall. one of Aragog’s descendants had joined the fight.
Ron and Harry shouted together; their spells collided and the monster was blown backward, its legs jerking horribly, and vanished into the darkness.
“It brought friends!” Harry called to the others, glancing over the edge of the castle through the hole in the wall the curses had blasted. More giant spiders were climbing the side of the building, liberated from the Forbidden Forest, into which the Death Eaters must have penetrated. Harry fired Stunning Spells down upon them, knocking the lead monster into its fellows, so that they rolled back down the building and out of sight. Then more curses came soaring over Harry’s head, so close he felt the force of them blow his hair.
“Let’s move, NOW!”
Pushing Hermione ahead of him with Ron, Harry stooped to seize Fred’s body under the armpit. Percy, realizing what Harry was trying to do, stopped clinging to the body and helped: together, crouching low to avoid the curses flying at them from the grounds, they hauled Fred out of the way.
“Here,” said Harry, and they placed him in a niche where a suit of armor had stood earlier. He could not bear to look at Fred a second longer than he had to, and after making sure that the body was well-hidden, he took off after Ron and Hermione. Malfoy and Goyle had vanished but at the end of the corridor, which was now full of dust and falling masonry, glass long gone from windows, he saw many people running backward and forward, whether friends or foes he could not tell. Rounding the corner, Percy let out a bull-like roar: “ROOKWOOD!” and sprinted off in the direction of a tall man, who was pursuing a couple of students. “Harry, in here!” Hermione screamed.
She had pulled Ron behind a tapestry. They seemed to be wrestling together, and for one mad second Harry thought that they were embracing again; then he saw that Hermione was trying to restrain Ron, to stop him running after Percy.
“Listen to me – LISTEN RON!”
“I wanna help – I wanna kill Death Eaters–”
His face was contorted, smeared with dust and smoke, and he was shaking with rage and grief.
“Ron, we’re the only ones who can end it! Please – Ron – we need the snake, we’ve got to kill the snake!” said Hermione.
But Harry knew how Ron felt: Pursuing another Horcrux could not bring the satisfaction of revenge; he too wanted to fight, to punish them, the people who had killed Fred, and he wanted to find the other Weasleys, and above all make sure, make quite sure, that Ginny was not – but he could not permit that idea to form in his mind – “We will fight!” Hermione said. “We’ll have to, to reach the snake! But let’s not lose sight now of what we’re supposed to be d-doing! We’re the only ones who can end it!”
She was crying too, and she wiped her face on her torn and singed sleeve as she spoke, but she took great heaving breaths to calm herself as, still keeping a tight hold on Ron, she turned to Harry.
“You need to find out where Voldemort is, because he’ll have the snake with him, won’t he? Do it, Harry – look inside him!”
Why was it so easy? Because his scar had been burning for hours, yearning to show him Voldemort’s thoughts? He closed his eyes on her command, and at once, the screams and bangs and all the discordant sounds of the battle were drowned until they became distant, as though he stood far, far away from them…

He was standing in the middle of a desolate but strangely familiar room, with peeling paper on the walls and all the windows boarded up except for one. The sounds of the assault on the castle were muffled and distant. The single unblocked window revealed distant bursts of light where the castle stood, but inside the room was dark except for a solitary oil lamp.
He was rolling his wand between his fingers, watching it, his thoughts on the room in the castle, the secret room only he had ever found, the room, like the chamber, that you had to be clever and cunning and inquisitive to discover…He was confident that the boy would not find the diadem…although Dumbledore’s puppet had come much farther than he ever expected…too far…
“My Lord,” said a voice, desperate and cracked. He turned: there was Lucius Malfoy sitting in the darkest corner, ragged and still bearing the marks of the punishment he had received after the boy’s last escape. One of his eyes remained closed and puffy. “My Lord…please…my son…”
“If your son is dead, Lucius, it is not my fault. He did not come and join me, like the rest of the Slytherins. Perhaps he has decided to befriend Harry Potter?”
“No – never,” whispered Malfoy. “You must hope not.”
“Aren’t – aren’t you afraid, my Lord that Potter might die at another hand but yours?” asked Malfoy, his voice shaking. “Wouldn’t it be…forgive me…more prudent to call off this battle, enter the castle, and seek him y-yourself?”
“Do not pretend Lucius. You wish the battle to cease so that you can discover what has happened to your son. And I do not need to seek Potter. Before the night is out, Potter will have come to find me.”
Voldemort dropped his gaze once more to the wand in his fingers. It troubled him…and those things that troubled Lord Voldemort needed to be rearranged…“Go and fetch Snape.”
“Snape, m-my Lord?”
“Snape. Now. I need him. There is a – service – I require from him. Go.”
Frightened, stumbling a little through the gloom, Lucius left the room. Vodlemort continued to stand there, twirling the wand between his fingers, staring at it.
“It is the only way, Nagini,” he whispered, and he looked around, and there was the great thick snake, now suspended in midair, twisting gracefully within the enchanted, protected space he had made for her, a starry, transparent sphere somewhere between a glittering cage and a tank.
With a gasp, Harry pulled back and opened his yees at the same moment his ears were assaulted with the screeches and cries, the smashes and bangs of battle.
“He’s in the Shrieking Shack. The snake’s with him, it’s got some sort of magical protection around it. He’s just sent Lucius Malfoy to find Snape.”
“Voldemort’s sitting in the shrieking Shack?” said Hermione, outraged. “He’s not – he’s not even FIGHTING?”
“He doesn’t think he needs to fight,” said Harry. “He thinks I’m going to go to him.”
“But why?”
“He knows I’m after Horcruxes – he’s keeping Nagini close beside him – obviously I’m going to have to go to him to get near the thing–”
“Right,” said Ron, squaring his shoulders. “So you can’t go, that’s what he wants, what he’s expecting. You stay here and look after Hermione, and I’ll go and get it–” Harry cut across Ron.
“You two stay here, I’ll go under the Cloak and I’ll be back as soon as I–”
“No,” said Hermione,, “it makes much more sense if I take the Cloak and–”
“Don’t even think about it,” Ron snarled at her. before Hermione could get farther than “Ron, I’m just as capable – The tapestry at the top of the staircase on which they stood was ripped open.
“POTTER!”
Two masked Death Eaters stood there, but even before their wands were fully raised, Hermione shouted “Glisseo!”
The stairs beneath their feet flattened into a chute and she, Harry, and Ron hurtled down it, unable to control their speed but so fast that the Death Eaters’ Stunning Spells flew far over their heads. They shot through the concealing tapestry at the bottom and spun onto the floor, hitting the opposite wall.
“Duro!” cried Hermione, pointing her wand at the tapestry, and there were two loud, sickening crunches as the tapestry turned to stone and the Death Eaters pursuing them crumpled against it.
“Get back!” shouted Ron, and he, Harry, and Hermione hurled themselves against a door as a herd of galloping desks thundered past, shepherded by a sprinting Professor McGonagall. She appeared not to notice them. Her hair had come down and there was a gash on her cheek. As she turned the corner, they heard her scream,
“CHARGE!”
“Harry, you get the Cloak on,” said Hermione. “Never mind us–”
But he threw it over all three of them; large though they were he doubted anyone would see their disembodied feet through the dust that clogged the air, the falling stone, the shimmer of spells. they ran down the next staircase and found themselves in a corridor full of duelers. The portraits on either side of the fighters were crammed with figures screaming advice and encouragement, while Death Eaters, both masked and unmasked, dueled students and teachers. Dean had won himself a wand, for he was face-to-face with Dolohov, Parvati with Travers. Harry, Ron and Hermione raised their wands at once, ready to strike, but the duelers were weaving and darting so much that there was a strong likelihood of hurting on of their own side if they cast curses. Even as they stood braced, looking for the opportunity to act, there came a great “Wheeeeee!” and looking up, Harry saw Peeves zooming over them, dropping Snargaluff pods down onto the Death Eaters, whose heads were suddenly engulfed in wriggling green tubers like fat worms.
“ARGH!”
A fistful of tubers had hit the Cloak over Ron’s head; the damp green roots were suspended improbably in midair as Ron tried to shake them loose.
“Someone’s invisible there!” shouted a masked Death Eater, pointing.
Dean made the most of the Death Eater’s momentary distraction, knocking him out with a stunning Spell; Dolohov attempted to retaliate, and Parvati shot a Body Bind Curse at him. “LET’S GO!” Harry yelled, and he, Ron, and Hermione gathered the Cloak tightly around themselves and pelted, heads down, through the midst of the fighters, slipping a little in pools of Snargaluff juice, toward the top of the marble staircase into the entrance hall.
“I’m Draco Malfoy, I’m Draco, I’m on your side!” Draco was on the upper landing, pleading with another masked Death Eater. Harry Stunned the Death Eater as they passed. Malfoy looked around, beaming, for his savior, and Ron punched him from under the Cloak. Malfoy fell backward on top of the Death Eater, his mouth bleeding, utterly bemused.
“And that’s the second time we’ve saved your life tonight, you two-faced bastard!” Ron yelled.
There were more duelers all over the stairs and in the hall. Death Eaters everywhere Harry looked: Yaxley, close to the front doors, in combat with Flitwick, a masked Death Eater dueling Kingsley right beside them. Students ran in every direction; some carrying or dragging injured friends. Harry directed a Stunning Spell toward the masked Death Eater; it missed but nearly hit Neville, who had emerged from nowhere brandishing armfuls of Venomous Tentacula, which looped itself happily around the nearest Death Eater and began reeling him in.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione sped won the marble staircase: glass shattered on the left, and the Slytherin hourglass that had recorded House points spilled its emeralds everywhere, so that people slipped and staggered as they ran. Two bodies fell from the balcony overhead as they reached the ground a gray blur that Harry took for an animal sped four-legged across the hall to sink its teeth into one of the fallen.
“NO!” shrieked Hermione, and with a deafening blast from her wand, Fenrir Greyback was thrown backward from the feebly struggling body of Lavender Brown. He hit the marble banisters and struggled to return to his feet. Then, with a bright white flash and a crack, a crystal ball fell on top of his head, and he crumpled to the ground and did not move.
“I have more!” shrieked Professor Trelawney from over the banisters. “More for any who want them! Here–” And with a move like a tennis serve, she heaved another enormous crystal sphere from her bag, waved her wand through the air, and caused the ball to speed across the hall and smash through a window. At the same moment, the heavy wooden front doors burst open, and more of the gigantic spiders forced their way into the front hall.
Screams of terror rent the air: the fighters scattered, Death Eaters and Hogwartians alike, and red and green jets of light flew into the midst of the oncoming monsters, which shuddered and reared, more terrifying than ever.
“How do we get out?” yelled Ron over all the screaming, but before either Harry or Hermione could answer they were bowled aside; Hagrid had come thundering down the stairs, brandishing his flowery pink umbrella.
“Don’t hurt ‘em, don’t hurt ‘em!” he yelled.
“HAGRID, NO!”
Harry forgot everything else: he sprinted out from under the cloak, running bent double to avoid the curses illuminating the whole hall.
“HAGRID, COME BACK!”
But he was not even halfway to Hagrid when he saw it happen: Hagrid vanished amongst the spiders, and with a great scurrying, a foul swarming movement, they retreated under the onslaught of spells, Hagrid buried in their midst.
“HAGRID!” Harry heard someone calling his own name, whether friend or foe he did not care: He was springing down the front steps into the dark grounds, and the spiders were swarming away with their prey, and he could see nothing of Hagrid at all.
“HAGRID!”
He thought he could make out an enormous arm waving from the midst of the spider swarm, but as he made to chase after them, his way was impeded by a monumental foot, which swung down out of the darkness and made the ground on which he stood shudder. He looked up: A giant stood before him, twenty feet high, its head hidden in shadow, nothing but its treelike, hairy shins illuminated by light from the castle doors. With one brutal, fluid movement, it smashed a massive fist through an upper window, and glass rained down upon Harry, forcing him back under the shelter of the doorway.
“Oh my–!” shrieked Hermione, as she and Ron caught up with Harry and gazed upward at the giant now trying to seize people through the window above.
“DON’T!” Ron yelled, grabbing Hermione’s hand as she raised her wand. “Stun him and he’ll crush half the castle–”
“HAGGER?”
Grawp came lurching around the corner of the castle; only now did Harry realize that Grawp was, indeed, an undersized giant. The gargantuan monster trying to crush people on the upper floors turned around and let out a roar. The stone steps trembled as he stomped toward his smaller kin, and Grawp’s lopsided mouth fell open, showing yellow, half brick-sized teeth; and then they launched themselves at each other with the savagery of lions.
“RUN!” Harry roared; the night was full of hideous yells and blows as the giants wrestled, and he seized Hermione’s hand and tore down the steps into the grounds, Ron bringing up the rear. Harry had not lost hope of finding and saving Hagrid; he ran so fast that they were halfway toward the forest before they were brought up short again.
The air around them had frozen: Harry’s breath caught and solidified in his chest. Shapes moved out in the darkness, swirling figures of concentrated blackness, moving in a great wave towards the castles, their faces hooded and their breath rattling…
Ron and Hermione closed in beside him as the sounds of fighting behind them grew suddenly muted, deadened, because a silence only dementors could bring was falling thickly through the night, and Fred was gone, and Hagrid was surely dying or already dead…
“Come on, Harry!” said Hermione’s voice from a very long way away.
“Patronuses, Harry, come on!”
He raised his wand, but a dull hopelessness was spreading throughout him: How many more lay dead that he did not yet know about? He felt as though his soul had already half left his body….
“HARRY, COME ON!” screamed Hermione.
A hundred dementors were advancing, gliding toward them, sucking their way closer to Harry’s despair, which was like a promise of a feast…
He saw Ron’s silver terrier burst into the air, flicker feebly, and expire; he saw Hermione’s otter twist in midair and fade, and his own wand trembled in his hand, and he almost welcomed the oncoming oblivion, the promise of nothing, of no feeling…
And then a silver hare, a boar, and fox soared past Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s heads: the dementors fell back before the creatures’ approach. Three more people had arrived out of the darkness to stand beside them, their wands outstretched, continuing to cast Patronuses: Luna, Ernie, and Seamus.
“That’s right,” said Luna encouragingly, as if they were back in the Room of Requirement and this was simply spell practice for the D.A. “That’s right, Harry…come on think of something happy…”
“Something happy?” he said, his voice cracked.
“We’re all still here,” she whispered, “we're still fighting. Come on, now….”
There was a silver spark, then a wavering light, and then, with the greatest effort it had ever cost him the stag burst from the end of Harry’s wand. It cantered forward, and now the dementors scattered in earnest, and immediately the night was mild again, but the sounds of the surrounding battle were loud in his ears.
“Can’t thank you enough,” said Ron shakily, turning to Luna, Ernie, and Seamus “you just saved–”
With a roar and an earth-quaking tremor, another giant came lurching out of the darkness from the direction of the forest, brandishing a club taller than any of them.
“RUN!” Harry shouted again, but the others needed no telling; They all scattered, and not a second too soon, for the next moment the creature’s vast foot had fallen exactly where they had been standing. Harry looked round: Ron and Hermione were following him, but the other three had vanished back into the battle. “Let’s get out of range!” yelled Ron as the giant swung its club again and its bellows echoed through the night, across the grounds where bursts of red and green light continued to illuminate the darkness.
“The Whomping willow,” said Harry, “go!” Somehow he walled it all up in his mind, crammed it into a small space into which he could not look now: thoughts of Fred and Hagrid, and his terror for all the people he loved, scattered in and outside the castle, must all wait, because they had to run, had to reach the snake and Voldemort, because that was, as Hermione said, the only way to end it –
He sprinted, half-believing he could outdistance death itself, ignoring the jets of light flying in the darkness all around him, and the sound of the lake crashing like the sea, and the creaking of the Forbidden Forest though the night was windless; through grounds that seemed themselves to have risen in rebellion, he ran faster than he had ever moved in his life, and it was he who saw the great tree first, the Willow that protected the secret at its roots with whiplike, slashing branches. Panting and gasping, Harry slowed down, skirting the willow’s swiping branches, peering through the darkness toward its tick trunk, trying to see the single knot in the bark of the old tree that would paralyze it. Ron and Hermione caught up, Hermione so out of breath that she could not speak.
“How – how’re we going to get in?” panted Ron. “I can – see the place – if we just had – Crookshanks again –”
“Crookshanks?” wheezed Hermione, bent double, clutching her chest. “Are you a wizard, or what?”
“Oh – right – yeah –”
Ron looked around, then directed his wand at a twig on the ground and said “Winguardium Leviosa!” The twig flew up from the ground, spun through the air as if caught by a gust of wind, then zoomed directly at the trunk through the Willow’s ominously swaying branches. It jabbed at a place near the roots, and at once, the writhing tree became still. “Perfect!” panted Hermione. “Wait.”
For one teetering second, while the crashes and booms of the battle filled the air, Harry hesitated. Voldemort wanted him to do this, wanted him to come…Was he leading Ron and Hermione into a trap? But the reality seemed to close upon him, cruel and plain: the only way forward was to kill the snake, and the snake was where Voldemort was, and Voldemort was at the end of this tunnel…
“Harry, we’re coming, just get in there!” said Ron, pushing him forward.
Harry wriggled into the earthy passage hidden in the tree’s roots.
It was a much tighter squeeze than it had been the last time they had entered it. The tunnel was low-ceilinged: they had had to double up to move through it nearly four years previously; now there was nothing for it but to crawl. Harry went first, his wand illuminated, expecting at any moment to meet barriers, but none came. They moved in silence, Harry’s gaze fixed upon the swinging beam of the wand held in his fist. At last, the tunnel began to slope upward and Harry saw a sliver of light ahead. Hermione tugged at his ankle.
“The Cloak!” she whispered. “Put the Cloak on!”
He groped behind him and she forced the bundle of slippery cloth into his free hand. With difficulty he dragged it over himself, murmured, “Nox,” extinguishing his wandlight, and continued on his hands and knees, as silently as possible, all his senses straining, expecting every second to be discovered, to hear a cold clear voice, see a flash of green light.

And then he heard voices coming from the room directly ahead of them, only slightly muffled by the fact that the opening at the end of the tunnel had been blocked up by what looked like an old crate. Hardly daring to breathe, Harry edged right up tot he opening and peered through a tiny gap left between crate and wall.
The room beyond was dimly lit, but he could see Nagini, swirling and coiling like a serpent underwater, safe in her enchanted, starry sphere, which floated unsupported in midair. He could see the edge of a table, and a long-fingered white hand toying with a wand.
Then Snape spoke, and Harry’s heart lurched: Snape was inches away from where he crouched, hidden.
“…my Lord, their resistance is crumbling –”
“– and it is doing so without your help,” said Voldemort in his high, clear voice. “Skilled wizard though you are, Severus, I do not think you will make much difference now. We are almost there…almost.”
“Let me find the boy. Let me bring you Potter. I know I can find him, my Lord. Please.”
Snape strode past the gap, and Harry drew back a little, keeping his eyes fixed upon Nagini, wondering whether there was any spell that might penetrate the protection surrounding her, but he could not think of anything. One failed attempt, and he would give away his position…
Voldemort stood up. Harry could see him now, see the red eyes, the flattened, serpentine face, the pallor of him gleaming slightly in the semidarkness.
“I have a problem, Severus,” said Voldemort softly.
“My Lord?” said Snape.
Voldemort raised the Elder Wand, holding it as delicately and precisely as a conductor’s baton.
“Why doesn’t it work for me, Severus?”
In the silence Harry imagined he could hear the snake hissing slightly as it coiled and uncoiled–or was it Voldemort’s sibilant sigh lingering on the air?
“My – my lord?” said Snape blankly. “I do not understand. You – you have performed extraordinary magic with that wand.”
“No,” said Voldemort. “I have performed my usual magic. I am extraordinary, but this wand…no. It has not revealed the wonders it has promised. I feel no difference between this wand and the one I procured from Ollivander all those years ago.”
Voldemort’s tone was musing, calm, but Harry’s scar had begun to throb and pulse: Pain was building in his forehead, and he could feel that controlled sense of fury building inside Voldemort.
“No difference,” said Voldemort again.
Snape did not speak. Harry could not see his face. He wondered whether Snape sensed danger, was trying to find the right words to reassure his master.
Voldemort started to move around the room: Harry lost sight of him for seconds as he prowled, speaking in that same measured voice, while the pain and fury mounted in Harry.
“I have thought long and hard, Severus…do you know why I have called you back from battle?”
And for a moment Harry saw Snape’s profile. His eyes were fixed upon the coiling snake in its enchanted cage.
“No, my Lord, but I beg you will let me return. Let me find Potter.”
“You sound like Lucius. Neither of you understands Potter as I do. He does not need finding. Potter will come to me. I knew his weakness you see, his one great flaw. He will hate watching the others struck down around him, knowing that it is for him that it happens. He will want to stop it at any cost. He will come.”
“But my Lord, he might be killed accidentally by someone other than yourself–”
“My instructions to the Death Eaters have been perfectly clear. Capture Potter. Kill his friends – the more, the better – but do not kill him.”
“But it is of you that I wished to speak, Severus, not Harry Potter. You have been very valuable to me. Very valuable.”
“My Lord knows I seek only to serve him. But – let me go and find the boy, my Lord. Let me bring him to you. I know I can –”
“I have told you, no!” said Voldemort, and Harry caught the glint of red in his eyes as he turned again, and the swishing of his cloak was like the slithering of a snake, and he felt Voldemort’s impatience in his burning scar. “My concern at the moment, Severus, is what will happen when I finally meet the boy!”
“My Lord, there can be no question, surely –?”
“– but there is a question, Severus. There is.”
Voldemort halted, and Harry could see him plainly again as he slid the Elder Wand through his white fingers, staring at Snape.
“Why did both the wands I have used fail when directed at Harry Potter?”
“I – I cannot answer that, my Lord.”
“Can’t you?”
The stab of rage felt like a spike driven through Harry’s head: he forced his own fist into his mouth to stop himself from crying out in pain. He closed his eyes, and suddenly he was Voldemort, looking into Snape’s pale face.
“My wand of yew did everything of which I asked it, Severus, except to kill Harry Potter. Twice it failed. Ollivander told me under torture of the twin cores, told me to take another’s wand. I did so, but Lucius’s wand shattered upon meeting Potter’s.”
“I – I have no explanation, my Lord.”
Snape was not looking at Voldemort now. His dark eyes were still fixed upon the coiling serpent in its protective sphere.
“I sought a third wand, Severus. the Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore.”
And now Snape looked at Voldemort, and Snape’s face was like a death mask. it was marble white and so still that when he spoke, it was a shock to see that anyone lived behind the blank eyes.
“My Lord – let me go to the boy –”
“All this long night when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here,” said Voldemort, his voice barely louder than a whisper, “wondering, wondering, why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner…and I think I have the answer.”
Snape did not speak.
“Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen.”
“My Lord–”
“The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine.”
“My Lord!” Snape protested, raising his wand.
“It cannot be any other way,” said Voldemort. “I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last.”
And Voldemort swiped the air with the Elder Wand. It did nothing to Snape, who for a split second seemed to think he had been reprieved: but then Voldemort’s intention became clear. The snake’s cage was rolling through the air, and before Snape could do anything more than yell, it had encased him, head and shoulders, and Voldemort spoke in Parseltongue.
“Kill.”
There was a terrible scream. Harry saw Snape’s face losing the little color it had left; it whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake’s fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor.
“I regret it,” said Voldemort coldly.
He turned away; there was no sadness in him, no remorse. It was time to leave this shack and take charge, with a wand that would now do his full bidding. He pointed it at the starry cage holding the snake, which drifted upward, off Snape, who fell sideways onto the floor, blood gushing from the wounds in his neck. Voldemort swept from the room without a backward glance, and the great serpent floated after him in its huge protective sphere.

Back in the tunnel and his own mind, Harry opened his eyes; He had drawn blood biting down on his knuckles in an effort not to shout out. Now he was looking through the tiny crack between crate and wall, watching a foot in a black boot trembling on the floor.
“Harry!” breathed Hermione behind him, but he had already pointed his wand at the crate blocking his view. It lifted an inch into the air and drifted sideways silently. As quietly as he could, he pulled himself up into the room.
He did not know why he was doing it, why he was approaching the dying man: he did not know what he felt as he saw Snape’s white face, and the fingers trying to staunch the bloody wound at his neck. Harry took off the invisibility cloak and looked down upon the man he hated, whose widening black eyes found Harry as he cried to speak. Harry bent over him, and Snape seized the front of his robes and pulled him close.
A terrible rasping, gurgling noise issued from Snape’s throat.
“Take…it…Take…it…”
Something more than blood was leaking from Snape. Silvery blue, neither gas nor liquid, it gushed form his mouth and his ears and his eyes, and Harry knew what it was, but did not know what to do – A flask, conjured from thin air, was thrust into his shaking hand by Hermione. Harry lifted the silvery substance into it with his wand. When the flask was full to the brim, and Snape looked as though there was no blood left in him, his grip on Harry’s robes slackened.
“Look…at….me…” he whispered.
The green eyes found the black, but after a second, something in the depths of the dark pari seemed to vanish, leaving them fixed, blank, and empty. The hand holding Harry thudded to the floor, and Snape moved no more.
世界已经完了，否则为什么这场战斗还没有停止?城堡在一片惊恐中沉寂，每个决斗者都放下了他们的武器吗？
　　哈利的思路在下沉，不受控制地乱转，无法相信这不可能发生的事，因为弗雷德·韦斯莱是不会死的，他看到的那些一定是幻像——
　　紧接着，一个身影穿过学校一侧炸开的洞口掉了下来，从阴暗处冒出来许多咒语飞向他们，击在他们脑袋后面的墙上。“趴下！”哈利喊道，更多的咒语从黑暗中飞过。他和罗恩两人拽过赫敏把她推倒在地板上，可珀西却压在弗雷德的尸体上，不想让他受更多伤害，哈利吼道“珀西，快过来，我们必须离开这里！”他摇了摇头。
　　“珀西！”哈利看到罗恩抓住他大哥的肩膀把他拖起来，布满灰尘的脸上带着泪痕，但是珀西没有动，“珀西，你帮不了他！我们要——”
　　赫敏尖叫起来，哈利转过身，不需要问为什么了。一只像一辆小汽车那么大的巨型蜘蛛正试图从墙上的大洞中爬进来。阿拉戈克的一个后裔已经加入了这场战斗。
　　罗恩和哈利一起大声吼着，他们的咒语打在那怪物身上，把它击退了一步，它的长脚用可怕的速度移动着，消失在黑暗之中。
　　“它还带来了同伴！”哈利从墙上被咒语炸出来的洞向城堡边缘看了一眼，对其他人说。更多巨蜘蛛从禁林中解放出来，沿着楼一侧爬上来，爬进肯定被食死徒入侵的地方。哈利往下向它们发射昏迷咒，把领头的怪物撞到它的同伴中间，它们摇晃着掉下楼消失不见了。接着更多咒语射来飞向哈利的头顶，险险地擦过，他感到它们的力量吹动了他的头发。
　　“我们走，现在！”
　　哈利把赫敏推到他和罗恩的前面，弯腰把弗雷德的尸体夹在腋下。珀西意识到了哈利的举动，不再紧贴着尸体，过来帮忙：他们一起蹲下贴近地面来躲避飞向他们的咒语，一边把弗雷德的尸体拖到不显眼的地方。
　　“这里，”哈利说，他们把他安放在原先站着套盔甲的一个凹陷处。他不忍再多看弗雷德一眼，确保他的尸体已经被藏好后，他跟在罗恩和赫敏身后离开了。马尔福和高尔已经消失在走廊尽头，现在那里遍布着灰尘和掉落的石头，还有大块的窗玻璃，他看见许多人跑着向他们这边后退，无法辨认是朋友还是敌人。绕过墙角，珀西发出一声像公牛般的吼叫：“卢克伍德！”，便向一个正在追几个学生的高大男子疾步跑去。
　　“哈利，到这儿来！”赫敏尖声叫道。
　　她刚把罗恩推到一副挂毯后面。他们似乎扭打在一起，有那么疯狂的一秒钟，哈利还以为他们又拥抱了，随后他看到赫敏试图阻止罗恩，不让他跟在珀西后面跑过去。
　　“听我说——听着，罗恩！”
　　“我要去帮忙——我要杀了食死徒——”
　　他那沾上了尘土和灰的脸扭曲着，既愤怒又悲伤地不停地颤抖。
　　“罗恩，我们是唯一可以停止这一切的人！拜托——罗恩，我们需要那条蛇，我们必须去杀死那条蛇！”赫敏说道。
　　但是哈利明白罗恩是什么感觉：追击另一个魂器不能满足他的复仇欲望，他太想投入战斗了，去惩罚那个杀了弗雷德的人，他还想找到其他韦斯莱家的人，而最重要的是，确认，彻底确认，金妮没有——他不允许脑子里出现那个念头——
　　“我们会去战斗！”赫敏说，“我们也必须找到那条蛇！但是我们不能忘了我们被要求去做的事！我们是唯一可以停止这一切的人！”
　　她哭的太伤心了，一边用自己烧焦的破袖子擦掉脸上的眼泪像是要说话，却只是深深地吸了口气使自己冷静下来，仍然紧紧抓着罗恩，然后她转向哈利。“你需要找到伏地魔在哪里，他肯定会带着那条蛇，不是吗？这么做，哈利——进入他的大脑！”为什么这次那么容易？是因为他那灼烧了几个小时的伤疤渴望着向他展示伏地魔的思想吗？他听从她的命令，闭上眼，接着立刻，尖叫声和巨响声，还有所有战争中的不和谐的声音被淹没了，直到变得遥远了，就像他站在离它们很远很远的地方一样……
　　他正站在一个空荡荡的，却又异常熟悉的房间中央，四壁上带着剥落的墙纸，除了一扇窗户外其余都被钉上了木板。城堡内的袭击声像被盖住了隔得很远。那扇没被钉上的窗子里显示出远处城堡那儿发出的光亮，但是这个房间里却是一片黑暗，仅有一盏油灯。
　　他正用手指摆弄着魔杖，一边注视着它，他人在这儿心却在城堡，这个秘密的房间只是他刚发现的，像是间旧寝室，你得够聪明，够狡猾，有好奇心才能找到它……他自信那男孩不会找到这个王冠……尽管邓布利多的傀儡比他所料想的要走得更远……太远了……
　　“主人，”一个嘶哑的声音不顾一切地说道。他转过来：卢修斯·马尔福坐在屋子最阴暗的角落里，衣衫褴褛，依旧带着他上一次得知那个男孩逃走后惩罚他的痕迹。一只眼睛还肿得张不开。“主人……求求您……我儿子……”
　　“如果你的儿子死了，卢修斯，那不是我的错。他没有像剩下的斯莱特林一样来加入我。也许他决定和哈利·波特做朋友了？”
　　“不会——绝不会。”马尔福低声说。
　　“你最好希望他不会。”
　　“主人，您——您不怕波特可能死在另一个人而不是您的手上吗？”马尔福问道，他的声音颤抖着。“会不会……请原谅……停止这场战斗会更谨慎些，然后您——您亲自到城堡去找他？”
　　“别装了，卢修斯。你当然希望战斗停止后可以去看看你儿子怎么样了。但是我不需要去找波特。今晚之前，波特会不得不自己来找我的。”
　　伏地魔的目光再次落到指间的那根魔杖上。它困扰着他……那些困扰着伏地魔的事情都需要好好整理一遍……
　　“去把斯内普带来。”
　　“斯内普，主——主人？”
　　“斯内普。现在。我需要他。我需要他的——一个——帮助。快去。”
　　卢修斯害怕地，有点趔趄地穿过黑暗，离开了房间。伏地魔继续站在那儿，转动着指间的魔杖，他盯着它。
　　“只有这一条路，纳尼吉，”他轻声说，环视了一下四周，一条又粗又大的蛇正悬浮在半空，在他为她施了魔法保护的空间里--------一个大小介于发光的笼子和水池间的、布满星星的、透明的球体，优雅地盘旋着。
　　哈利喘着气回到了现实中，张开了眼睛，在同一时间，战斗的尖叫和哭喊声，碎裂和重击声冲击着他的耳朵。
　　“他在尖叫棚屋。那条蛇和他在一起，被某种魔法保护包围着。他刚刚派卢修斯·马尔福去找斯内普了。”
　　“伏地魔待在尖叫棚屋里？”赫敏用被侮辱的口气说，“他没有——他居然没有去战斗？”
　　“他认为他没有必要参战，”哈利说，“他觉得我会去找他的。”
　　“可是为什么呢？”
　　“他知道我在找下一个魂器——他把纳尼吉放在身边很近的地方——很明显我要得到他近旁的东西就不得不去找他。”
　　“没错，”罗恩挺了挺肩膀说，“他就是这么想的，现在正这样期待着，所以你不能去。你待在这儿照顾赫敏，我去抓住它——”
　　哈利拦住罗恩。
　　“你们两个待在这儿，我穿着隐形衣去，然后尽快回来——”
　　“不，”赫敏说，“我穿着隐形衣去会更好，然后——”
　　“想都别想，” 在赫敏进一步想说什么之前罗恩对她吼道。
　　“罗恩，我有这个能力——”正在这时他们站着的楼梯顶上的挂毯被撕开了。
　　“波特！”
　　两个戴着面具的食死徒站在那儿，然而在他们的魔杖还没举得够高前，赫敏叫道，“滑道立现！”
　　他们脚下的台阶变成了平滑的斜道，接着她、哈利和罗恩都从上面快速滑了下去，速度快得无法控制，以至于食死徒的昏迷咒从他们头顶上空很远的地方飞了过去。他们像子弹似的穿过那条遮蔽他们的挂毯，旋转着降落在地板上，然后撞到了对面的墙。
　　“石化！”赫敏用魔杖指着挂毯喊道，只听嘎吱嘎吱地响了两声，那挂毯随即变成了石头，压在了追击他们的食死徒身上。
　　“回来！”罗恩喊道，然后他、哈利和赫敏靠着一扇门卧倒，一边看到飞奔的麦格教授引着一大堆书桌轰隆隆地快速飞了过去。看起来她没有注意到他们，头发披散开来，脸颊上还有一个很深的伤口。当她拐过角落时，他们听到她尖叫道：“冲啊！”
　　“哈利，你穿上隐形衣，”赫敏说，“别管我们——”
　　但是他把隐形衣罩在了他们三个身上，尽管他们太大了，但他怀疑没人能通过遍布灰尘的空气、掉下来的石头和咒语发出的微光看到他们那没有身体的脚。
　　他们跑下另一层楼梯，发现自己来到了一个充满了决斗者的走廊里。当两个戴了面具的食死徒与没戴面具的教师和学生决斗时，不管哪一边的战士旁的肖像画里都挤满了人，尖叫着出主意和给予鼓励。迪安和多洛霍夫面对面，他已经给自己赢得了一根魔杖，帕瓦蒂对着特莱维尔。哈利、罗恩和赫敏立刻举起了他们的魔杖，准备战斗，但是来回奔跑着的决斗者太多了，如果他们发射咒语的话，会有很大可能伤到自己人。正当他们站着不动，找机会攻击时，传来响亮的一声“啊啊啊啊啊！”哈利抬头看去，皮皮鬼正急速上升着，把疙瘩藤的荚果丢到食死徒的头上，他们的脑袋立刻被像肥胖的毛毛虫似的蠕动着的绿色小疙瘩吞没了。
　　“嗷！”
　　一小撮疙瘩击中了隐形衣底下的罗恩的脑袋，罗恩试图抖落它们，粘糊糊的绿色的根须显得似乎不太可能地悬挂在半空中。
　　“有人隐身在那里！”一个戴面具的食死徒指着叫道。
　　但是迪安让大多数食死徒在那一瞬间分心了，他们正向他发射着昏迷咒，多洛霍夫企图报复，帕瓦蒂对他施了一个束缚咒。
　　“我们走！”哈利叫道，随后他、罗恩和赫敏顶着紧紧包裹着他们的隐形衣，或上或下地在战士们中间穿梭，经过一滩疙瘩藤的汁液时滑了一下，爬上大理石楼梯的顶部来到门厅里。
　　“我是德拉科·马尔福，我是德拉科，我是你们那边的人！”
　　德拉科在上面的平台上，向另一个戴面具的食死徒恳求。哈利在他们经过的时候击晕了那个食死徒：马尔福惊喜地看向四周，找着他的救星，罗恩隔着隐形衣戳了他一下。马尔福退了一步倒在了那个食死徒身上，嘴流着血，目瞪口呆。
　　“这是我们今天晚上第二次救了你的命了，你这个两面派的家伙！”罗恩叫道。
　　楼梯上和大厅里出现了更多的决斗者，哈利到处都看到食死徒：前门附近是亚克斯利，正和弗立维战斗，他们右边是金斯莱和一个戴面具的食死徒。学生们朝各个方向跑去，一些还扶着或拖着受伤的朋友。哈利对那个戴面具的食死徒发了个昏迷咒，没打到，反而差点击中纳威，他正出现每个角落挥舞着丢出大把的毒触手，它们开心地爬向最近的食死徒，开始盘绕在他身上。
　　哈利、罗恩和赫敏迅速爬下了大理石楼梯，在他们左边，斯莱特林沙漏的玻璃粉碎，记录学院分数的绿宝石洒得到处都是，以至于人们跑过的时候都连滚带爬的。来到地面时两个身影从他们头顶上方的阳台上掉了下来，哈利感觉一个像动物似的灰扑扑的东西用四肢飞快地穿过大厅，把牙齿深深地扎进其中一个掉下来的人身上。
　　“不！”赫敏尖声叫道，随着她魔杖里发出一阵震耳欲聋的爆炸声，芬里尔·格雷伯克从拉文德·布朗无力动弹的身体上被向后击飞了出去，撞到大理石栏杆上，挣扎着想站起来。然后，随着一道明亮的白光闪过，啪地一声，一个水晶球掉在了他的头上，把他砸倒在地上，不动了。
　　“我还有很多！”特里劳妮教授从栏杆上方尖声喊道，“有谁想要都可以！这儿——”
　　过了一会儿，就像是发网球似的，她从包里拿出一个巨大的水晶球，在空中挥了挥魔杖，那个球急速穿过大厅，打碎了一扇窗户。同一时间，木制的笨重的前门被炸开，许多巨蜘蛛用武力开路，爬进了门厅。
　　恐惧的尖叫声撕裂了空气，决斗者们都散开了，不管是食死徒还是霍格沃兹的人，都朝逼近的怪物们身上发射或红或绿的光，它们颤抖着立起来，显得从未有过的可怕。
　　“我们怎么出去？”罗恩盖过所有的尖叫声喊道，然而，在哈利或赫敏能够回答之前，他们都被挤到一边：海格走下阶梯，发出雷鸣般的巨响，挥舞着他那把粉红色的花伞。
　　“别伤害他们，别伤害他们！”他大声叫道。
　　“海格，不！”
　　哈利忘记了一切，飞快地从隐形衣下面跑出来，弯下半个身子奔跑着，避开那些照亮了整个大厅的咒语。
　　“海格，回来！”
　　他甚至还没有跑到一半，就看到了所发生的事，海格在蜘蛛中间消失了，随着一个大转弯，一阵恶心的爬动，它们在咒语的冲击下撤退了，海格被掩在它们中间。
　　“海格！”
　　哈利听到有人在叫他的名字，不关心是朋友还是敌人，他飞也似的跑下前面的台阶来到昏暗的场地上，随后蜘蛛带着它们掠夺来的牺牲品蜂拥出来，哈利根本没有看到海格的任何踪迹。
　　“海格！”
　　
　　他觉得他认出了在蜘蛛群中摆动着的一只巨大手臂，然而当他试图去追赶它们的时候，却被从黑暗中晃动着走了出来的，一只印象深刻的大脚挡住了去路，他站着的大地正抖动着。他抬头看去：一个巨人站在他面前，二十英尺高，脑袋隐在了城堡大门的阴影里。在城堡内亮光的照耀下，可以看到那长满了毛发、像树一样的胫骨。它挥动着一只结实的拳头打碎了上面的一扇窗户，碎玻璃像雨一样洒向哈利，迫使他退回门口的遮蔽处。
　　“哦，我的——！”赫敏尖叫道，她和罗恩刚追上哈利，抬头盯着那个正试图通过上方那扇窗户抓人的巨人。
　　“不要！”罗恩喊道，拉住赫敏正举起魔杖的手，“如果击昏他，他会压塌半座城堡——”
　　“哈格？”
　　格洛普在城堡的一角徘徊，哈利现在才明白格洛普完全只是一个还年幼的巨人。这个庞大的怪物发出了一声咆哮，试图把在上面几层张望的人群碾碎。他对那些小得多的同类跺了跺脚，石头地板抖了几抖，格洛普那歪斜的嘴巴向下咧着，露出半块砖头般大小的黄牙，于是他们像充满野性的狮子那样准备采取行动了。
　　“跑！”哈利吼道，这个夜里充满着恐惧的尖叫和好似巨人格斗般发出的风声，他抓着赫敏的手飞奔着冲下台阶来到场地上，罗恩随后跟着。哈利还没有放弃发现和拯救海格的希望，他跑得那样快，以至他们刚到达后很快就已经跑在通向林子的路上了。
　　他们周围的空气冷了下来，哈利吸进去的空气在胸腔里凝结了。黑暗中出现了几个影子，漆黑的身形旋转着，成群结队地向城堡方向飘去，它们的脸上罩着兜帽，呼吸声格格作响……
　　罗恩和赫敏站在他附近，他们身后的战斗声突然变弱，完全消失了，因为一种只有摄魂怪才能带来的寂静降临了，厚厚地包围了整个夜空……
　　“快，哈利！”是赫敏的声音，好像是从很远的地方传来，“守护神咒，哈利，快！”
　　他举起魔杖，然而一种充满阴暗的绝望在他的身上散播开来：弗雷德走了，海格也确实奄奄一息或者已经死了，还有更多他不知道的人在垂死挣扎，他感到他的灵魂似乎也已有一半离开了身体……
　　“哈利，快！”赫敏尖叫道。
　　一百多个摄魂怪在前进，向他们这里滑行，一路吸收着快乐接近哈利，把绝望带给他，就像答应带他赴一场盛宴……
　　他看见罗恩银色的猎狗在空中突然出现，微弱地闪了闪，然后消失不见；他看见赫敏银色的水獭在半空中扭动，变淡了，还有他自己的魔杖在手中颤抖，他几乎要迎接这即将到来的湮没，什么都不必承诺，什么都感觉不到……
　　接着，一只银色的野兔、一只野猪、一只狐狸从哈利、罗恩和赫敏的脑袋旁飞过，摄魂怪在这些动物逼近前退却了。又有三个人从黑暗中出现站到他们身边，他们伸出魔杖，继续发出他们的守护神，是卢娜、厄尼和西莫。
　　“对，”卢娜鼓励地说，好像他们又回到了有求必应屋，这只是D·A的一次咒语练习。“就是这样，哈利……快，想想高兴的事……”
　　“高兴的事？”哈利说，声音是嘶哑的。
　　“我们都还在这儿，”她低声说，“我们仍然在战斗。快，现在……”
　　有一阵银色的火花，然后是一道摇曳的光芒，再接下来，凭着从未有过的努力，那只牡鹿突然从哈利的魔杖中出现。它向前慢跑着，摄魂怪纷纷散开，立刻，淡淡的夜幕又回来了，而周围战斗的声音也在他的耳朵里变得更响。
　　“真是感激不尽，”罗恩转向卢娜、厄尼和西莫，虚弱地说，“你们刚刚救了——”
　　随着一声咆哮，一阵地震般的抖动，另一个巨人从禁林方向的黑暗里蹒跚着走出来，挥舞着一根比他们任何一个人都要高的棍子。
　　“跑！”哈利再次叫道，不过其他人已经不需要告诉，都分散了开来，还不到一秒钟，下一刻那个生物巨大的脚已经结实地踩到了他们刚刚站着的地方。哈利看看周围，罗恩和赫敏跟在他后面，其他三人重新投入战斗，消失不见了。
　　“我们离他远一点！”罗恩喊道，这时巨人又挥舞着棍子，发出的气流声在夜空中回荡，他走了过去，所经之处仍爆发着红绿光芒。
　　“打人柳那里！”哈利说道，“快走！”
　　不知何故，他的思想被彻底包围，充斥着他现在无法看清的一个小空间，关于弗雷德和海格的思考，对所有他爱的人的担忧，城堡内外的生离死别……都被驱散了。因为他们必须奔跑，必须到那条蛇、还有伏地魔那里去，因为正如赫敏所说的，这是可以停止一切的唯一方法——
　　他急速跑着，差不多有一半相信自己已把死亡抛在身后，不再理会周围正飞向黑暗的大束光芒。发出碰撞声的湖就像大海一样，尽管无风的夜晚，禁林也在嘎吱作响，穿过似乎要自动投入战斗的场地，哈利用一生中最快的速度奔跑着，最先看见了那棵大树——打人柳用像鞭子一样挥着的枝条保护着它根部的秘密。
　　哈利气喘吁吁地放慢了速度，绕着打人柳用力抽打着的枝条走，透过黑暗向它粗壮的树干看去，试着寻找这棵老树的上那唯一可以让它瘫痪的节疤。罗恩和赫敏赶了上来，赫敏喘得根本说不出话。
　　“怎么——我们要怎么进去？”罗恩指着它说，“我可以——看到那个地方——如果我们——能再让克鲁克山——”
　　“克鲁克山？”赫敏艰难地喘着气，弯下了半个身子，抓着胸口，“你是个巫师吗？还是什么别的东西？”
　　“哦——对——是啊——”
　　罗恩看看四周，然后用魔杖指着地上的一根小树枝，说道：“羽加迪姆
　　勒维奥萨！”那根树枝从地上飞起来，像被狂风带动似的旋转着，急速上升到树干处，穿入打人柳正疯狂抽动着的枝条，径直对着根部附近的地方猛戳了一下，打人柳立刻静止不动了。
　　“漂亮！”赫敏喘着气说。
　　“等等。”
　　在那摇摇欲坠的一瞬间，当战斗的爆炸声和撞击声四处传来时，哈利犹豫了。伏地魔想让他这么做，想让他来……他是领着罗恩和赫敏跳入了一个陷阱吗？
　　但是现实似乎使他结束了思考，简单而又残酷：前进的唯一方法是杀了那条蛇，而有蛇的地方就有伏地魔，伏地魔就在这条隧道的尽头……
　　“哈利，我们进来了，快到里面去！”罗恩说，一边往前推他。
　　哈利在隐藏在树根里的泥土通道里蜿蜒行进着。它比他们上次来时更挤了些。隧道的天花板很低，四年前他们不得不低下半个身体来通过，而现在他们除了爬之外也没有别的办法。哈利在第一个，他用魔杖来照明，本以为随时都会碰到障碍，然而一个也没有。他们无声地移动着，哈利的目光一直集中在紧握着的魔杖上。
　　终于，通道的上方变成了斜坡，哈利看见前方有一条光线。赫敏吃力地拉着他的脚踝。
　　“隐形衣！”她低声说，“穿上隐形衣！”
　　他摸索着身后，赫敏把包好的光滑的织物塞到他那只空着的手里。他艰难地套到身上，咕哝道：“诺克斯，”魔杖的光熄灭了，他继续靠手和膝盖移动，尽可能安静，他的所有感官都绷紧了，准备着随时被发现，听到一个冷冷的声音，看到一道绿光闪过。
　　随后，他听到他们正前方的屋子传来了说话声，稍微有点儿压抑，因为通道的出口被一个看起来像是旧的柳条箱似的东西堵住了。哈利几乎不敢呼吸，向出口的右侧缓缓挪动，通过墙和箱子间的一条小缝向外看去。
　　这间屋子光线朦胧，不过他还是可以看到纳尼吉，如同一条在水底的蛇似的盘旋扭动着，安全地待在她那施了魔法的、布满星星的球体里，不靠任何支持地漂浮在半空中。他可以看到一张桌子的边缘，一只有着细长手指的苍白的手正把玩着一根魔杖。接着斯内普开口了，哈利的心顿了一下，斯内普离他蜷缩着隐藏的地方只有几英寸。
　　“……主人，他们的抵抗正在崩溃——”
　　“——在没有你的帮助下，”伏地魔用他那高而清晰的嗓音说，“尽管你是个有能力的巫师，西弗勒斯，我不认为你现在还能有多大作用。我们的人几乎都在那里了……几乎。”
　　“让我去找那个男孩。让我去把波特带给你。我知道我能找到他，主人，求你。”
　　斯内普大步经过那条缝隙，哈利往回缩了缩，继续盯着上方的纳尼吉，想着有什么咒语可以穿透她周围的保护，然而他什么都想不出来。只要有一次失败的尝试，他就会暴露自己的所在……
　　伏地魔站起来，哈利现在可以看到他了，那红色的眼睛、扁平的蛇一样的脸，苍白的肤色在昏暗中微微地发亮。
　　“我有一个问题，西弗勒斯，”伏地魔轻声说。
　　“主人？”
　　伏地魔举起长老魔杖，姿势优美、准确地握着它，就像拿着一根指挥棒。
　　“为什么它在我这儿就没作用呢，西弗勒斯？”
　　一片寂静中，哈利觉得他可以听到那条正盘旋伸展着的蛇轻微的嘶嘶声，或者是伏地魔那咝咝的叹息声还停留在空气里？
　　“主——主人？”斯内普茫然地说，“我不明白。您——您已经用那根魔杖施展了非凡的魔法。”
　　“不，”伏地魔说，“我只施展了我平常的魔法。我是非凡的，而这根魔杖……不是，它还没有显示出它那传说中的奇妙威力。我并不觉得这根魔杖和我以前从奥里凡德那儿拿到的有任何不同。”
　　伏地魔的语气是沉思而平静的，但是哈利的伤疤开始抽动，额头上的疼痛在加强，他能感到伏地魔体内压抑着的愤怒在上升。
　　“没有任何不同。”伏地魔又一次说道。
　　斯内普没有说话，哈利看不见他的脸，他想知道斯内普是否感觉到了危险，或者正试着寻找合适的字眼来使他的主人平静。
　　伏地魔开始绕着房间走动，当他徘徊着时，哈利有一会儿无法看到他，他仍然用那种缓慢的语调在说话，而哈利体内的疼痛和愤怒上升了。
　　“我辛苦地想了很久，西弗勒斯……你知道我为什么要把你从战斗中叫回来吗？”
　　有那么一会儿，哈利看到了斯内普的侧面，他的双眼正集中在魔法笼子里那条盘旋着的蛇身上。
　　“不知道，主人，但我请求您让我回去。让我去找波特。”
　　“你的话听上去像卢修斯。你们两个都不像我这样了解波特。他不需要去找。波特会到我这里来的。我清楚他的弱点，你看，他的一个重大缺陷。他不喜欢看着身边的人被打倒，他知道这一切都是因为他。所以他会不惜一切代价去阻止。他会来的。”
　　“但是主人，他可能被其他人误杀而不是您自己——”
　　“我对食死徒的指示已经相当明确了。抓住波特。杀了他的同伴——越多越好——但是不要杀死他。”
　　“但是我想谈的是你，西弗勒斯，不是哈利·波特。你对我非常有价值。非常有价值。”
　　“主人明白我去找只是为了服侍主人。但——让我去找那男孩，主人。让我把波特带来给你。我知道我能——”
　　“我告诉过你了，不行！”伏地魔说道，哈利看到他再次转身时眼睛里有红光在闪烁，他的斗篷发出嗖嗖声，就像是蛇在爬行，通过灼烧着的伤疤，他感到了伏地魔的不耐烦。“我现在关心的是，西弗勒斯，我最后碰见那个男孩时会发生什么呢？”
　　“主人，不会有任何问题，确实——”
　　“——但是有一个问题，西弗勒斯。有一个。”
　　伏地魔停住了，哈利可以再次清楚地看到他苍白的手指滑过那根长老魔杖，眼睛盯着斯内普。
　　“为什么我用过的那两根魔杖在指着哈利·波特时都失效了呢？”
　　“我——我无法回答，主人。”
　　“你不能吗？”
　　一阵刺痛像钉子一样穿过了哈利的头，他用力把拳头塞进嘴里，不让自己因为疼痛而叫出声来。他闭上了眼睛，然后突然间他变成了伏地魔，正看着斯内普苍白的脸。
　　“我的紫杉木魔杖在我的要求下可以做任何事情，西弗勒斯，除了杀死哈利·波特，两次都失败了，奥里凡德在折磨下告诉我孪生杖心的事，并建议我去换一根魔杖。我这么做了，但是卢修斯的魔杖在碰到波特的时也碎了。”
　　“我——我不能解释，主人。”
　　斯内普现在没有看着伏地魔。他黑色的眼睛仍旧集中在上方那条在保护球体里旋转的蛇身上。
　　“我找到了第三根魔杖，西弗勒斯。长老魔杖，命运之杖、死神的手杖。我从它的前任主人那里拿来——从阿不思·邓布利多的坟墓里拿来了。”
　　现在斯内普看向伏地魔了，斯内普的脸看上去像一张死人面具。白得像大理石，如此沉寂，以至于当他说话时会令人震惊地发现那双空洞的眼睛后面竟然还有一个活着的人。
　　“主人——让我去找那个男孩——”
　　“这一整个漫长的夜晚，当我在胜利的边缘时，我一直坐在这里，”伏地魔说，声音几乎不比耳语响多少，“疑惑着，疑惑着，为什么长老魔杖拒绝显示它应该具备的威力，拒绝像传说中的那样为它真正的主人效力……然后我想我找到了答案。”
　　斯内普没有说话。
　　“你也许已经明白了？毕竟，你是个聪明人，西弗勒斯。你曾经是个忠实的好仆人，我为这必须发生的事感到惋惜。”
　　“主人——”
　　“长老魔杖不能完全地为我服务，西弗勒斯，是因为我不是它真正的主人。长老魔杖属于杀死它上一个主人的巫师。你杀了阿不思·邓布利多。而你还活着，长老魔杖就无法真正为我所有。”
　　“主人！”斯内普抗议道，举起了他的魔杖。
　　“没有别的选择，”伏地魔说，“我必须掌控这根魔杖，西弗勒斯。掌控这根魔杖，那么最终我会掌控波特。”
　　伏地魔用魔杖对着空气重击了一下。它对斯内普没有影响，有那么一刹那，他似乎以为自己被饶恕了，然而伏地魔的用意马上就很清楚了。装着蛇的笼子滚动着穿过空中，在斯内普除了喊叫外来不及做其他任何事之前，笼子包住了他的头和肩膀。伏地魔用蛇佬腔说话了。
　　“杀。”
　　一阵恐怖的尖叫。哈利看见斯内普脸上剩余的一点血色也消失不见，同时黑色的眼睛骤然放大，蛇的毒牙穿透了他的脖子，他徒劳地挣脱套着他的魔法笼子，膝盖一软，倒在了地板上。
　　“我很遗憾，”伏地魔冷冷地说。
　　他转过身去，没有一点悲伤和愧疚。有了一根现在完全服从于他的魔杖，是时候离开这个小房间去掌握全局了。他指了指那个布满星星的装蛇的笼子，它漂浮起来，离开了斯内普。他歪倒在地上，血从脖子上的伤口里涌了出来。伏地魔头也不回地飘出了屋子，漂浮着大蛇的巨大保护球跟在后面。

　　哈利回到了隧道内自己的身上，张开眼睛，拔出为了不叫出来而已被咬出血的手指。现在他透过箱子和墙的缝隙，看到一只穿着黑色靴子的脚在地板上颤抖。

　　“哈利！”赫敏在他身后轻呼，但是他已经用魔杖指着那个挡住他视线的箱子。它升起一英寸高，无声地飘到一边。他使自己尽可能镇静地爬了上去。

　　他不明白为什么要这样做，为什么要接近一个垂死的男人，他不知道看着斯内普惨白的脸，和正试图止住脖子上伤口流血的手指时是什么感觉。哈利脱下隐形衣，俯视着这个他憎恨的男人，那双瞪大的黑眼睛发现了哈利，他试着开口。哈利向他弯下腰，斯内普拽着他长袍的前襟，把他拉向自己。

　　斯内普的喉咙里发出一种可怕的、粗重的咯咯声。

　　“拿……着……拿……着……”

　　除了血，还有一些东西正从斯内普身上漏出来。银蓝色的，不是气体也不是液体，从他的嘴里、耳朵里、还有眼睛里涌了出来，哈利知道那是什么，但是他不知道该做什么——

　　一个凭空变出的长颈瓶被赫敏塞到了他颤抖的手里。他用魔杖把那些银色的物质收集到里面。当长颈瓶被装满时，斯内普看上去已经失去了他所有的血液，握着哈利袍子的手松开了。

　　“看……着……我……”他轻声说。

　　绿色的眼睛对上了黑色的，但一秒种后，那双黯淡的眼睛深处的某些东西似乎消失了，只留下了呆滞、空白和空洞。抓着哈利的那只手砰地掉到地板上，斯内普再也不动了。

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Chapter 31 The Battle of Hogwarts
The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall was dark and scattered with stars, and below it the four long House tables were lined with disheveled students, some in traveling cloaks, others in dressing gowns. Here and there shone the pearly white figures of the school ghosts. Every eye, living and dead was fixed upon Professor McGonagall, who was speaking from the raised platform at the top of the Hall. Behind her stood the remaining teaches, including the palomino centaur, Firenze, and the members of the Order of the Phoenix who had arrived to fight.
“…evacuation will be overseen by Mr. Filch and Madame Pomfrey. Prefects, when I give the word, you will organize your House and take your charges in orderly fashion to the evacuation point.”
Many of the students looked petrified. However, as Harry skirted the walls, scanning the Gryffindor table for Ron and Hermione, Ernie Macmillan stood up at the Hufflepuff table and shouted; “And what if we want to stay and fight?”
There was a smattering of applause.
“If you are of age, you may stay.” said Professor McGonagall.
“What about our things?” called a girl at the Ravenclaw table. “Our trunks, our owls?”
“We have no time to collect possessions.” said Professor McGonagall. “The important thing is to get you out of here safely.”
“Where’s Professor Snape?” shouted a girl from the Slytherin table.
“He has, to use the common phrase, done a bunk.” replied Professor McGonagall and a great cheer erupted from the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws.
Harry moved up the Hall alongside the Gryffindor table, still looking for Ron and Hermione. As he passed, faces turned in his direction, and a great deal of whispering broke out in his wake.
“We have already placed protection around the castle,” Professor McGonagall was saying, “but it is unlikely to hold for very long unless we reinforce it. I must ask you, therefore, to move quickly and calmly, and do as your prefects – ”
But her final words were drowned as a different voice echoed throughout the Hall. It was high, cold, and clear. There was no telling from where it came. It seemed to issue from the walls themselves. Like the monster it had once commanded, it might have lain dormant there for centuries.
“I know that you are preparing to fight.” There were screams amongst the students, some of whom clutched each other, looking around in terror for the source of the sound. “Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood.”
There was silence in the Hall now, the kind of silence that presses against the eardrums, that seems too huge to be contained by walls.
“Give me Harry Potter,” said Voldemort’s voice, “and they shall not be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded.”
“You have until midnight.”
The silence swallowed them all again. Every head turned, every eye in the place seemed to have found Harry, to hold him forever in the glare of thousands of invisible beams. Then a figure rose from the Slytherin table and he recognized Pansy Parkinson as she raised a shaking arm and screamed, “But he’s there! Potter’s there. Someone grab him!”
Before Harry could speak, there was a massive movement. The Gryffindors in front of him had risen and stood facing, not Harry, but the Slytherins. Then the Hufflepuffs stood, and almost at the same moment, the Ravenclaws, all of them with their backs to Harry, all of them looking toward Pansy instead, and Harry, awestruck and overwhelmed, saw wands emerging everywhere, pulled from beneath cloaks and from under sleeves.
“Thank you, Miss Parkinson.” said Professor McGonagall in a clipped voice. “You will leave the Hall first with Mr. Filch. If the rest of your House could follow.”
Harry heard the grinding of the benches and then the sound of the Slytherins trooping out on the other side of the Hall.
“Ravenclaws, follow on!” cried Professor McGonagall.
Slowly the four tables emptied. The Slytherin table was completely deserted, but a number of older Ravenclaws remained seated while their fellows filed out; even more Hufflepuffs stayed behind, and half of Gryffindor remained in their seats, necessitating Professor McGonagall’s descent from the teachers’ platform to chivvy the underage on their way.
“Absolutely not, Creevey, go! And you, Peakes!”
Harry hurried over to the Weasleys, all sitting together at the Gryffindor table.
“Where are Ron and Hermione?”
“Haven’t you found -?” began Mr. Weasley, looking worried.
But he broke off as Kingsley had stepped forward on the raised platform to address those who had remained behind.
“We’ve only got half an half an hour until midnight, so we need to act fast. A battle plan has been agreed between the teachers of Hogwarts and the Order of the Phoenix. Professors Flitwick, Sprout and McGonagall are going to take groups of fighters up to the three highest towers – Ravenclaw, Astronomy, and Gryffindor – where they’ll have good overview, excellent positions from which to work spells. Meanwhile Remus” – he indicated Lupin – “Arthur” – he pointed toward Mr. Weasley, sitting at the Gryffindor table – “and I will take groups into the grounds. We’ll need somebody to organize defense of the entrances or the passageways into the school – ”
“Sounds like a job for us.” called Fred, indicating himself and George, and Kingsley nodded his approval.
“All right, leaders up here and we’ll divide up the troops!”
“Potter,” said Professor McGonagall, hurrying up to him, as students flooded the platform, jostling for position, receiving instructions, “Aren’t you supposed to be looking for something?”
“What? Oh,” said Harry, “oh yeah!”
He had almost forgotten about the Horcrux, almost forgotten that the battle was being fought so that he could search for it: The inexplicable absence of Ron and Hermione had momentarily driven every other thought from his mind.
“Then go, Potter, go!”
“Right – yeah – ”
He sensed eyes following him as he ran out of the Great Hall again, into the entrance hall still crowded with evacuating students. He allowed himself to be swept up the marble staircase with them, but at the top he hurried off along a deserted corridor. Fear and panic were clouding his thought processes. He tried to calm himself, to concentrate on finding the Horcrux, but his thoughts buzzed as frantically and fruitlessly as wasps trapped beneath a glass. Without Ron and Hermione to help him he could not seem to marshal his ideas. He slowed down, coming to a halt halfway along a passage, where he sat down on the plinth of a departed statue and pulled the Marauder’s Map out of the pouch around his neck. He could not see Ron’s of Hermione’s names anywhere on it, though the density of the crowd of dots now making its way to the Room of Requirement might, he thought, be concealing them. He put the map away, pressed his hands over his face, and closed his eyes, trying to concentrate.
Voldemort thought I’d go to Ravenclaw Tower.
There it was, a solid fact, the place to start. Voldemort had stationed Alecto Carrow in the Ravenclaw common room, and there could be only one explanation; Voldemort feared that Harry already knew his Horcrux was connected to that House.
But the only object anyone seemed to associate with Ravenclaw was the lost diadem… and how could the Horcrux be the diadem? How was it possible that Voldemort, the Slytherin, had found the diadem that had eluded generations of Ravenclaws? Who could have told him where to look, when nobody had seen the diadem in living memory?
In living memory…
Beneath his fingers, Harry’s eyes flew open again. He leapt up from the plinth and tore back the way he had come, now in pursuit of his one last hope. The sound of hundreds of people marching toward the Room of Requirement grew louder and louder as he returned to the marble stairs. Prefects were shouting instructions, trying to keep track of the students in their own houses, there was much pushing and shouting; Harry saw Zacharias Smith bowling over first years to get to the front of the queue, here and there younger students were in tears, while older ones called desperately for friends or siblings.
Harry caught sight of a pearly white figure drifting across the entrance hall below and yelled as loudly as he could over the clamor.
“Nick! NICK! I need to talk to you!”
He forced his way back through the tide of students, finally reaching the bottom of the stairs, where Nearly Headless Nick, ghost of Gryffindor Tower, stood waiting for him.
“Harry! My dear boy!”
Nick made to grasp Harry’s hands with both of his own; Harry felt as though they had been thrust into icy water.
“Nick, you’ve got to help me. Who’s the ghost of Ravenclaw Tower?”
Nearly Headless Nick looked surprised and a little offended.
“The Gray Lady, of course; but if it is ghostly services you require -?”
“It’s got to be her – d’you know where she is?”
“Let’s see…”
Nick’s head wobbled a little on his ruff as he turned hither and thither, peering over the heads of the swarming students.
“That’s her over there, Harry, the young woman with the long hair.”
Harry looked in the direction of Nick’s transparent, pointing finger and saw a tall ghost who caught sight of Harry looking at her, raised her eyebrows, and drifted away through a solid wall.
Harry ran after her. Once through the door of the corridor into which she had disappeared, he saw her at the very end of the passage, still gliding smoothly away from him.
“Hey – wait – come back!”
She consented to pause, floating a few inches from the ground. Harry supposed that she was beautiful, with her waist-length hair and floor-length cloak, but she also looked haughty and proud. Close in, he recognized her as a ghost he had passed several times in the corridor, but to whom he had never spoken.
“You’re the Gray Lady?”
She nodded but did not speak.
“The ghost of Ravenclaw Tower?”
“That is correct.”
Her tone was not encouraging.
“Please, I need some help. I need to know anything you can tell me about the lost diadem.”
A cold smile curved her lips.
“I am afraid,” she said, turning to leave, “that I cannot help you.”
“WAIT!”
He had not meant to shout, but anger and panic were threatening to overwhelm him. He glanced at his watch as she hovered in front of him. It was a quarter to midnight.
“This is urgent.” he said fiercely. “If that diadem’s at Hogwarts, I’ve got to find it, fast.”
“You are hardly the first student to covet the diadem.” she said disdainfully. “Generations of students have badgered me – ”
“This isn’t about trying to get better marks!” Harry shouted at her, “It’s about Voldemort – defeating Voldemort – or aren’t you interested in that?”
She could not blush, but her transparent cheeks became more opaque, and her voice was heated as she replied, “Of course I – how dare you suggest –?”
“Well, help me then!”
Her composure was slipping.
“It – it is not a question of – ” she stammered. “My mother’s diadem – ”
“Your mother’s?”
She looked angry with herself.
“When I lived,” she said stiffly, “I was Helena Ravenclaw.”
“You’re her daughter? But then, you must know what happed to it.”
“While the diadem bestows wisdom,” she said with an obvious effort to pull herself together, “I doubt that it would greatly increase you chances of defeating the wizard who calls himself Lord – ”
“Haven’t I told you, I’m not interested in wearing it!” Harry said fiercely. “There’s no time to explain – but if you care about Hogwarts, if you want to see Voldemort finished, you’ve got to tell me anything you know about the diadem!”
She remained quite still, floating in midair, staring down at him, and a sense of hopelessness engulfed Harry. Of course, if she had known anything, she would have told Flitwick of Dumbledore, who had surely asked her the same question. He had shaken his head and made to turn away when she spoke in a low voice.
“I stole the diadem from my mother.”
“You – you did what?”
“I stole the diadem.” repeated Helena Ravenclaw in a whisper. “I sought to make myself cleverer, more important than my mother. I ran away with it.”
He did not know how he had managed to gain her confidence and did not ask, he simply listened, hard, as she went on.
“My mother, they say, never admitted that the diadem was gone, but pretended that she had it still. She concealed her loss, my dreadful betrayal, even from the other founders of Hogwarts.”
“Then my mother fell ill – fatally ill. In spite of my perfidy, she was desperate to see me one more time. She sent a man who had long loved me, though I spurned his advances, to find me. She knew that he would not rest until he had done so.”
Harry waited. She drew a deep breath and threw back her head.
“He tracked me to the forest where I was hiding. When I refused to return with him, he became violent. The baron was always a hot-tempered man. Furious at my refusal, jealous of my freedom, he stabbed me.”
“The Baron? You mean -?”
“The Bloody Baron, yes,” said the Gray Lady, and she lifted aside the cloak she wore to reveal a single dark wound in her white chest.
“When he saw what he had done, he was overcome with remorse. He took the weapon that had claimed my life, and used it to kill himself. All these centuries later, he wears his chains as an act of penitence… as he should.” she added bitterly.
“And – and the diadem?”
“It remained where I had hidden it when I heard the Baron blundering through the forest toward me. Concealed inside a hollow tree.”
“A hollow tree?” repeated Harry. “What tree? Where was this?”
“A forest in Albania. A lonely place I thought was far beyond my mother’s reach.“
“Albania,” repeated Harry. Sense was emerging miraculously from confusion, and now he understood why she was telling him what she had denied Dumbledore and Flitwick. “You’ve already told someone this story, haven’t you? Another student?”
She closed her eyes and nodded.
“I had… no idea… He was flattering. He seemed to… understand… to sympathize…“
Yes, Harry thought. Tom Riddle would certainly have understood Helena Ravenclaw’s desire to possess fabulous objects to which she had little right.
“Well, you weren’t the first person Riddle wormed things out of.” Harry muttered. “He could be charming when he wanted…”
So, Voldemort had managed to wheedle the location of the lost diadem out of the Gray Lady. He had traveled to that far-flung forest and retrieved the diadem from its hiding place, perhaps as soon as he left Hogwarts, before he even started work at Borgin and Burkes.
And wouldn’t those secluded Albanian woods have seemed an excellent refuge when, so much later, Voldemort and needed a place to lie low, undisturbed, for ten long years?
But the diadem, once it became his precious Horcrux, had not been left in that lowly tree…. No, the diadem had been returned secretly to its true home, and Voldemort must have put it there –
“– the night he asked for a job!” said Harry, finishing his thought.
“I beg your pardon?”
“He hid the diadem in the castle, the night he asked Dumbledore to let him teach!” said Harry. Saying it out loud enabled him to make sense of it all. “He must’ve hidden the diadem on his way up to, or down from, Dumbledore’s office! But it was well worth trying to get the job – then he might’ve got the chance to nick Gryffindor’s sword as well – thank you, thanks!”
Harry left her floating there, looking utterly bewildered. As he rounded the corner back into the entrance hall, he checked his watch. It was five minutes until midnight, and though he now knew what the last Horcrux was, he was no closer to discovering where it was…
Generations of students had failed to find the diadem; that suggested that it was not in Ravenclaw Tower – but if not there, where? What hiding place had Tom Riddle discovered inside Hogwarts Castle, that he believed would remain secret forever?
Lost in desperate speculation, Harry turned a corner, but he had taken only a few steps down the new corridor when the window to his left broke open with a deafening, shattering crash. As he leapt aside, a gigantic body flew in through the window and hit the opposite wall.
Something large and furry detached itself, whimpering, from the new arrival and flung itself at Harry.
“Hagrid!“ Harry bellowed, fighting off Fang the boarhound’s attentions as the enormous bearded figure clambered to his feet “What the –?”
“Harry, yer here! Yer here!“
Hagrid stooped down, bestowed upon Harry a cursory and rib-cracking hug, then ran back to the shattered window.
“Good boy, Grawpy!“ he bellowed through the hole in the window. ”I’ll se yer in a moment, there’s a good lad!“
Beyond Hagrid, out in the dark night, Harry saw bursts of light in the distance and heard a weird, keening scream. He looked down at his watch: It was midnight. The battle had begun.
“Blimey, Harry,” panted Hagrid, “this is it, eh? Time ter fight?”
“Hagrid, where have you come from?”
“Heard You-Know-Who from up in our cave,“ said Hagrid grimly. ”Voice carried, didn’t it? ‘Yet got till midnight ter gimme Potter.’ Knew yeh mus’ be here, knew that mus’ be happenin’. Get down, Fang. So we come ter join in, me an’ Grawpy an’ Fang. Smashed our way through the boundary by the forest, Grawpy was carryin’ us, Fang an’ me. Told him ter let me down at the castle, so he shoved me through the window, bless him. Not exactly what I meant, bu’ – where’s Ron an’ Hermione?“
“That,” said Harry, “is a really good question. Come on.”
They hurried together along the corridor, Fang lolloping beside them. Harry could hear movement through the corridors all around: running footsteps, shouts; through the windows, he could see more flashes of light in the dark grounds.
“Where’re we goin’?” puffed Hagrid, pounding along at Harry’s heels, making the floorboards quake.
“I dunno exactly,” said Harry, making another random turn, “but Ron and Hermione must be around here somewhere….”
The first casualties of the battle were already strewn across the passage ahead: The two stone gargoyles that usually guarded the entrance to the staffroom had been smashed apart by a jinx that had sailed through another broken window. Their remains stirred feebly on the floor, and as Harry leapt over one of their disembodied heads, it moaned faintly. “Oh, don’t mind me… I’ll just be here and crumble….”
Its ugly stone face made Harry think suddenly of the marble bust of Rowena Ravenclaw at Xenophilius’s house, wearing that mad headdress – and then of the statue in Ravenclaw Tower, with the stone diadem upon her white curls….
And as he reached the end of the passage, the memory of a third stone effigy came back to him: that of an ugly old warlock, onto whose head Harry himself had placed a wig and a battered old hat. The shock shot through Harry with the heat of firewhisky, and he nearly stumbled.
He knew, at least, where the Horcrux sat waiting for him….
Tom Riddle, who confided in no one and operated alone, might have been arrogant enough to assume that he, and only he, had penetrated the deepest mysteries of Hogwarts Castle. Of course, Dumbledore and Flitwick, those model pupils, had never set foot in that particular place, but he, Harry, had strayed off the beaten track in his time at school – here at least was a secret area he and Voldemort knew, that Dumbledore had never discovered –
He was roused by Professor Sprout, who was thundering past followed by Neville and half a dozen others, all of them wearing earmuffs and carrying what appeared to be large potted plants.
“Mandrakes!” Neville bellowed at Harry over his shoulder as he ran. “Going to lob them over the walls – they won’t like this!”
Harry knew now where to go. He sped off, with Hagrid and Fang galloping behind him. They passed portrait after portrait, and the painted figures raced alongside them, wizards and witches in ruffs and breeches, in armor and cloaks, cramming themselves into each others’ canvases, screaming news from other parts of the castle. As they reached the end of this corridor, the whole castle shook, and Harry knew, as a gigantic vase blew off its plinth with explosive force, that it was in the grip of enchantments more sinister than those of the teachers and the Order.
“It’s all righ’, Fang – it’s all righ’!“ yelled Hagrid, but the great boarhound had taken flight as slivers of china flew like shrapnel through the air, and Hagrid pounded off after the terrified dog, leaving Harry alone.
He forged on through the trembling passages, his wand at the ready, and for the length of one corridor the little painted knight, Sir Cadrigan, rushed from painting to painting beside him, clanking along in his armor, screaming encouragement, his fat little pony cantering behind him.
“Braggarts and rogues, dogs and scoundrels, drive them out, Harry Potter, see them off!”
Harry hurtled around a corner and found Fred and a small knot of students, including Lee Jordan and Hannah Abbott, standing beside another empty plinth, whose statue had concealed a secret passageway. Their wands were drawn and they were listening at the concealed hole.
“Nice night for it!” Fred shouted as the castle quaked again, and Harry sprinted by, elated and terrified in equal measure. Along yet another corridor he dashed, and then there were owls everywhere, and Mrs. Norris was hissing and trying to bat them with her paws, no doubt to return them to their proper place….
“Potter!”
Aberforth Dumbledore stood blocking the corridor ahead, his wand held ready.
“I’ve had hundreds of kids thundering through my pub, Potter!”
“I know, we’re evacuating,” Harry said, “Voldemort’s – ”
“– attacking because they haven’t handed you over, yeah,” said Aberforth. “I’m not deaf, the whole of Hogsmeade heard him. And it never occurred to any of you to keep a few Slytherins hostage? There are kids of Death Eaters you’ve just sent to safety. Wouldn’t it have been a bit smarter to keep ‘em here?”
“It wouldn’t stop Voldemort,” said Harry, “and your brother would never have done it.”
Aberforth grunted and tore away in the opposite direction.
Your brother would never have done it…. Well, it was the truth, Harry thought as he ran on again: Dumbledore, who had defended Snape for so long, would never have held students ransom….
And then he skidded around a final corner and with a yell of mingled relief and fury he saw them: Ron and Hermione; both with their arms full of large, curved, dirty yellow objects, Ron with a broomstick under his arms.
“Where the hell have you been?“ Harry shouted.
“Chamber of Secrets,” said Ron.
“Chamber – what?“ said Harry, coming to an unsteady halt before them.
“It was Ron, all Ron’s idea!” said Hermione breathlessly. “Wasn’t it absolutely brilliant? There we were, after we left, and I said to Ron, even if we find the other one, how are we going to get rid of it? We still hadn’t got rid of the cup! And then he thought of it! The basilisk!”
“What the –?”
“Something to get rid of Horcruxes,” said Ron simply.
Harry’s eyes dropped to the objects clutched in Ron and Hermione’s arms: great curved fangs; torn, he now realized, from the skull of a dead basilisk.
“But how did you get in there?” he asked, staring from the fangs to Ron. “You need to speak Parseltongue!”
“He did!” whispered Hermione. “Show him, Ron!”
Ron made a horrible strangled hissing noise.
“It’s what you did to open the locket,“ he told Harry apologetically. ”I had to have a few goes to get it right, but,“ he shrugged modestly, ”we got there in the end.“
“He was amazing!“ said Hermione. ”Amazing!“
“So…” Harry was struggling to keep up. “So…”
“So we’re another Horcrux down,“ said Ron, and from under his jacket he pulled the mangled remains of Hufflepuff’s cup. ”Hermione stabbed it. Thought she should. She hasn’t had the pleasure yet.“
“Genius!” yelled Harry.
“It was nothing,“ said Ron, though he looked delighted with himself. ”So what’s new with you?“
As he said it, there was an explosion from overhead: All three of them looked up as dust fell from the ceiling and they heard a distant scream.
“I know what the diadem looks like, and I know where it is,” said Harry, talking fast. “He hid it exactly where I had my old Potions book, where everyone’s been hiding stuff for centuries. He thought he was the only one to find it. Come on.”
As the walls trembled again, he led the other two back through the concealed entrance and down the staircase into the Room of Requirement. It was empty except for three women: Ginny, Tonks and an elderly witch wearing a moth-eaten hat, whom Harry recognized immediately as Neville’s grandmother.
“Ah, Potter,” she said crisply as if she had been waiting for him. “You can tell us what’s going on.”
“Is everyone okay?” said Ginny and Tonks together.
“‘S far as we know,” said Harry. “Are there still people in the passage to the Hog’s Head?”
He knew that the room would not be able to transform while there were still users inside it.
“I was the last to come through,” said Mrs. Longbottom. “I sealed it, I think it unwise to leave it open now Aberforth has left his pub. Have you seen my grandson?”
“He’s fighting,” said Harry.
“Naturally,” said the old lady proudly. “Excuse me, I must go and assist him.”
With surprising speed she trotted off toward the stone steps.
Harry looked at Tonks.
“I thought you were supposed to be with Teddy at your mother’s?”
“I couldn’t stand not knowing – ” Tonks looked anguished. “She’ll look after him – have you seen Remus?”
“He was planning to lead a group of fighters into the grounds – ”
Without another word, Tonks sped off.
“Ginny,” said Harry, “I’m sorry, but we need you to leave too. Just for a bit. Then you can come back in.”
Ginny looked simply delighted to leave her sanctuary.
“And then you can come back in!“ he shouted after her as she ran up the steps after Tonks. ”You’ve got to come back in!“
“Hang on a moment!“ said Ron sharply. ”We’ve forgotten someone!“
“Who?” asked Hermione.
“The house-elves, they’ll all be down in the kitchen, won’t they?”
“You mean we ought to get them fighting?” asked Harry.
“No,” said Ron seriously, “I mean we should tell them to get out. We don’t want anymore Dobbies, do we? We can’t order them to die for us – ”
There was a clatter as the basilisk fangs cascaded out of Hermione’s arms. Running at Ron, she flung them around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. Ron threw away the fangs and broomstick he was holding and responded with such enthusiasm that he lifted Hermione off her feet.
“Is this the moment?” Harry asked weakly, and when nothing happened except that Ron and Hermione gripped each other still more firmly and swayed on the spot, he raised his voice. “Oi! There’s a war going on here!”
Ron and Hermione broke apart, their arms still around each other.
“I know, mate,” said Ron, who looked as though he had recently been hit on the back of the head with a Bludger, “so it’s now or never, isn’t it?”
“Never mind that, what about the Horcrux?“ Harry shouted. ”D’you think you could just – just hold it in until we’ve got the diadem?“
“Yeah – right – sorry – ” said Ron, and he and Hermione set about gathering up fangs, both pink in the face.
It was clear, as the three of them stepped back into the corridor upstairs, that in the minutes that they had spent in the Room of Requirement the situation within the castle had deteriorated severely: The walls and ceiling were shaking worse than ever; dust filled the air, and through the nearest window, Harry saw bursts of green and red light so close to the foot of the castle that he knew the Death Eaters must be very near to entering the place. Looking down, Harry saw Grawp the giant meandering past, swinging what looked like a stone gargoyle torn from the roof and roaring his displeasure.
“Let’s hope he steps on some of them!” said Ron as more screams echoed from close by.
“As long as it’s not any of our lot!” said a voice: Harry turned and saw Ginny and Tonks, both with their wands drawn at the next window, which was missing several panes. Even as he watched, Ginny sent a well-aimed jinx into a crowd of fighters below.
“Good girl!“ roared a figure running through the dust toward them, and Harry saw Aberforth again, his gray hair flying as he led a small group of students past. ”They look like they might be breaching the north battlements, they’ve brought giants of their own.“
“Have you seen Remus?” Tonks called after him.
“He was dueling Dolohov,” shouted Aberforth, “haven’t seen him since!”
“Tonks,” said Ginny, “Tonks, I’m sure he’s okay – ”
But Tonks had run off into the dust after Aberforth.
Ginny turned, helpless, to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
“They’ll be all right,“ said Harry, though he knew they were empty words. ”Ginny, we’ll be back in a moment, just keep out of the way, keep safe – come on!“ he said to Ron and Hermione, and they ran back to the stretch of wall beyond which the Room of Requirement was waiting to do the bidding of the next entrant.
I need the place where everything is hidden. Harry begged of it inside his head, and the door materialized on their third run past.
The furor of the battle died the moment they crossed the threshold and closed the door behind them: All was silent. They were in a place the size of a cathedral with the appearance of a city, its towering walls built of objects hidden by thousands of long-gone students.
“And he never realized anyone could get in?” said Ron, his voice echoing in the silence.
“He thought he was the only one,” said Harry. “Too bad for him I’ve had to hide stuff in my time… this way,” he added. “I think it’s down here….”
They sped off up adjacent aisles; Harry could hear the others’ footsteps echoing through the towering piles of junk, of bottles, hats, crates, chairs, books, weapons, broomsticks, bats….
“Somewhere near here,” Harry muttered to himself. “Somewhere… somewhere…”
Deeper and deeper into the labyrinth he went, looking for objects he recognized from his one previous trip into the room. His breath was loud in his ears, and then his very soul seemed to shiver. There it was, right ahead, the blistered old cupboard in which he had hidden his old Potions book, and on top of it, the pockmarked stone warlock wearing a dusty old wig and what looked like an ancient discolored tiara.
He had already stretched out his hand, though he remained few feet away, when a voice behind him said, “Hold it, Potter.”
He skidded to a halt and turned around. Crabbe and Goyle were standing behind him, shoulder to shoulder, wands pointing right at Harry. Through the small space between their jeering faces he saw Draco Malfoy.
“That’s my wand you’re holding, Potter,” said Malfoy, pointing his own through the gap between Crabbe and Goyle.
“Not anymore,” panted Harry, tightening his grip on the hawthorn wand. “Winners, keepers, Malfoy. Who’s lent you theirs?”
“My mother,” said Draco.
Harry laughed, though there was nothing very humorous about the situation. He could not hear Ron or Hermione anymore. They seemed to have run out of earshot, searching for the diadem.
“So how come you three aren’t with Voldemort?” asked Harry.
“We’re gonna be rewarded,” said Crabbe. His voice was surprisingly soft for such an enormous person: Harry had hardly ever heard him speak before. Crabbe was speaking like a small child promised a large bag of sweets. “We ‘ung back, Potter. We decided not to go. Decided to bring you to ‘im.”
“Good plan,” said Harry in mock admiration. He could not believe that he was this close, and was going to be thwarted by Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. He began edging slowly backward toward the place where the Horcrux sat lopsided upon the bust. If he could just get his hands on it before the fight broke out…
“So how did you get in here?” he asked, trying to distract them.
“I virtually lived in the Room of Hidden Things all last year,” said Malfoy, his voice brittle. “I know how to get in.”
“We was hiding in the corridor outside,” grunted Goyle. “We can do Disslusion Charms now! And then,” his face split into a gormless grin, “you turned up right in front of us and said you was looking for a die-dum! What’s a die-dum?”
“Harry?” Ron’s voice echoed suddenly from the other side of the wall to Harry’s right. “Are you talking to someone?”
With a whiplike movement, Crabbe pointed his wand at the fifty foot mountain of old furniture, of broken trunks, of old books and robes and unidentifiable junk, and shouted, “Descendo!”
The wall began to totter, then the top third crumbled into the aisle next door where Ron stood.
“Ron!” Harry bellowed, as somewhere out of sight Hermione screamed, and Harry heard innumerable objects crashing to the floor on the other side of the destabilized wall: He pointed his wand at the rampart, cried, “Finite!” and it steadied.
“No!” shouted Malfoy, staying Crabbe’s arm as the latter made to repeat his spell. “If you wreck the room you might bury this diadem thing!”
“What’s that matter?” said Crabbe, tugging himself free. “It’s Potter the Dark Lord wants, who cares about a die-dum?”
“Potter came in here to get it,” said Malfoy with ill-disguised impatience at the slow-wittedness of his colleagues. “so that must mean – ”
“‘Must mean’?” Crabbe turned on Malfoy with undisguised ferocity. “Who cares what you think? I don’t take your orders no more, Draco. You an’ your dad are finished.”
“Harry?” shouted Ron again, from the other side of the junk wad. “What’s going on?”
“Harry?” mimicked Crabbe. “What’s going on – no, Potter! Crucio!”
Harry had lunged for the tiara; Crabbe’s curse missed him but hit the stone bust, which flew into the air; the diadem soared upward and then dropped out of sight in the mass of objects on which the bust had rested.
“STOP!” Malfoy shouted at Crabbe, his voice echoing through the enormous room. “The Dark Lord wants him alive – ”
“So? I’m not killing him, am I?” yelled Crabbe, throwing off Malfoy’s restraining arm. “But if I can, I will, the Dark Lord wants him dead anyway, what’s the diff –?”
A jet of scarlet light shot past Harry by inches: Hermione had run around the corner behind him and sent a Stunning Spell straight at Crabbe’s head. It only missed because Malfoy pulled him out of the way.
“It’s that Mudblood! Avada Kedavra!”
Harry saw Hermione dive aside, and his fury that Crabbe had aimed to kill wiped all else from his mind. He shot a Stunning Spell at Crabbe, who lurched out of the way, knocking Malfoy’s wand out of his hand; it rolled out of sight beneath a mountain of broken furniture and bones.
“Don’t kill him! DON’T KILL HIM!” Malfoy yelled at Crabbe and Goyle, who were both aiming at Harry: Their split second’s hesitation was all Harry needed.
“Expelliarmus!”
Goyle’s wand flew out of his hand and disappeared into the bulwark of objects beside him; Goyle leapt foolishly on the spot, trying to retrieve it; Malfoy jumped out of range of Hermione’s second Stunning Spell, and Ron, appearing suddenly at the end of the aisle, shot a full Body-Bind Curse at Crabbe, which narrowly missed.
Crabbe wheeled around and screamed, “Avada Kedavra!” again. Ron leapt out of sight to avoid the jet of green light. The wand-less Malfoy cowered behind a three-legged wardrobe as Hermione charged toward them, hitting Goyle with a Stunning Spell as she came.
“It’s somewhere here!” Harry yelled at her, pointing at the pile of junk into which the old tiara had fallen. “Look for it while I go and help R – ”
“HARRY!” she screamed.
A roaring, billowing noise behind him gave him a moment’s warning. He turned and saw both Ron and Crabbe running as hard as they could up the aisle toward them.
“Like it hot, scum?” roared Crabbe as he ran.
But he seemed to have no control over what he had done. Flames of abnormal size were pursuing them, licking up the sides of the junk bulwarks, which were crumbling to soot at their touch.
“Aguamenti!” Harry bawled, but the jet of water that soared from the tip of his wand evaporated in the air.
“RUN!”
Malfoy grabbed the Stunned Goyle and dragged him along; Crabbe outstripped all of them, now looking terrified; Harry, Ron, and Hermione pelted along in his wake, and the fire pursued them. It was not normal fire; Crabbe had used a curse of which Harry had no knowledge. As they turned a corner the flames chased them as though they were alive, sentient, intent upon killing them. Now the fire was mutating, forming a gigantic pack of fiery beasts: Flaming serpents, chimaeras, and dragons rose and fell and rose again, and the detritus of centuries on which they were feeding was thrown up into the air into their fanged mouths, tossed high on clawed feet, before being consumed by the inferno.
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had vanished from view: Harry, Ron and Hermione stopped dead; the fiery monsters were circling them, drawing closer and closer, claws and horns and tails lashed, and the heat was solid as a wall around them.
“What can we do?” Hermione screamed over the deafening roars of the fire. “What can we do?”
“Here!”
Harry seized a pair of heavy-looking broomsticks from the nearest pile of junk and threw one to Ron, who pulled Hermione onto it behind him. Harry swung his leg over the second broom and, with hard kicks to the ground, they soared up in the air, missing by feet the horned beak of a flaming raptor that snapped its jaws at them. The smoke and heat were becoming overwhelming: Below them the cursed fire was consuming the contraband of generations of hunted students, the guilty outcomes of a thousand banned experiments, the secrets of the countless souls who had sought refuge in the room. Harry could not see a trace of Malfoy, Crabbe, or Goyle anywhere. He swooped as low as he dare over the marauding monsters of flame to try to find them, but there was nothing but fire: What a terrible way to die…. He had never wanted this….
“Harry, let’s get out, let’s get out!” bellowed Ron, though it was impossible to see where the door was through the black smoke.
And then Harry heard a thin, piteous human scream from amidst the terrible commotion, the thunder of devouring flame.
“It’s – too – dangerous –!” Ron yelled, but Harry wheeled in the air. His glasses giving his eyes some small protection from the smoke, he raked the firestorm below, seeking a sign of life, a limb or a face that was not yet charred like wood….
And he saw them: Malfoy with his arms around the unconscious Goyle, the pair of them perched on a fragile tower of charred desks, and Harry dived. Malfoy saw him coming and raised one arm, but even as Harry grasped it he knew at once that it was no good. Goyle was too heavy and Malfoy’s hand, covered in sweat, slid instantly out of Harry’s –
“IF WE DIE FOR THEM, I’LL KILL YOU, HARRY!” roared Ron’s voice, and, as a great flaming chimaera bore down upon them, he and Hermione dragged Goyle onto their broom and rose, rolling and pitching, into the air once more as Malfoy clambered up behind Harry.
“The door, get to the door, the door!” screamed Malfoy in Harry’s ear, and Harry sped up, following Ron, Hermione, and Goyle through the billowing black smoke, hardly able to breathe: and all around them the last few objects unburned by the devouring flames were flung into the air, as the creatures of the cursed fire cast them high in celebration: cups and shields, a sparkling necklace, and an old, discolored tiara –
“What are you doing, what are you doing, the door’s that way!” screamed Malfoy, but Harry made a hairpin swerve and dived. The diadem seemed to fall in slow motion, turning and glittering as it dropped toward the maw of a yawning serpent, and then he had it, caught it around his wrist –
Harry swerved again as the serpent lunged at him; he soared upward and straight toward the place where, he prayed, the door stood open; Ron, Hermione and Goyle had vanished; Malfoy was screaming and holding Harry so tightly it hurt. Then, through the smoke, Harry saw a rectangular patch on the wall and steered the broom at it, and moments later clean air filled his lungs and they collided with the wall in the corridor beyond.
Malfoy fell off the broom and lay facedown, gasping, coughing, and retching. Harry rolled over and sat up: The door to the Room of Requirement had vanished, and Ron and Hermione sat panting on the floor beside Goyle, who was still unconscious.
“C-Crabbe,” choked Malfoy as soon as he could speak. “C-Crabbe…”
“He’s dead,” said Ron harshly.
There was silence, apart from panting and coughing. Then a number of huge bangs shook the castle, and a great cavalcade of transparent figures galloped past on horses, their heads screaming with bloodlust under their arms. Harry staggered to his feet when the Headless Hunt had passed and looked around: The battle was still going on all around him. He could hear more scream than those of the retreating ghosts. Panic flared within him.
“Where’s Ginny?” he said sharply. “She was here. She was supposed to be going back into the Room of Requirement.”
“Blimey, d’you reckon it’ll still work after that fire?” asked Ron, but he too got to his feet, rubbing his chest and looking left and right. “Shall we split up and look –?”
“No,” said Hermione, getting to her feet too. Malfoy and Goyle remained slumped hopelessly on the corridor floor; neither of them had wands. “Let’s stick together. I say we go – Harry, what’s that on your arm?”
“What? Oh yeah – ”
He pulled the diadem from his wrist and held it up. It was still hot, blackened with soot, but as he looked at it closely he was just able to make out the tiny words etched upon it; WIT BEYOND MEASURE IS MAN’S GREATEST TREASURE.
A bloodlike substance, dark and tarry, seemed to be leaking from the diadem. Suddenly Harry felt the thing vibrate violently, then break apart in his hands, and as it did so, he thought he heard the faintest, most distant scream of pain, echoing not from the grounds or the castle, but from the thing that had just fragmented in his fingers.
“It must have been Fiendfyre!” whimpered Hermione, her eyes on the broken piece.
“Sorry?”
“Fiendfyre – cursed fire – it’s one of the substances that destroy Horcruxes, but I would never, ever have dared use it, it’s so dangerous – how did Crabbe know how to –?”
“Must’ve learned from the Carrows,” said Harry grimly.
“Shame he wasn’t concentrating when they mentioned how to stop it, really,” said Ron, whose hair, like Hermione’s, was singed, and whose face was blackened. “If he hadn’t tried to kill us all, I’d be quite sorry he was dead.”
“But don’t you realize?” whispered Hermione. “This means, if we can just get the snake – ”
But she broke off as yells and shouts and the unmistakable noises of dueling filled the corridor. Harry looked around and his heart seemed to fail: Death Eaters had penetrated Hogwarts. Fred and Percy had just backed into view, both of them dueling masked and hooded men.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione ran forward to help: Jets of light flew in every direction and the man dueling Percy backed off, fast: Then his hood slipped and they saw a high forehead and streaked hair –
“Hello, Minister!” bellowed Percy, sending a neat jinx straight at Thicknesse, who dropped his wand and clawed at the front of his robes, apparently in awful discomfort. “Did I mention I’m resigning?”
“You’re joking, Perce!” shouted Fred as the Death Eater he was battling collapsed under the weight of three separate Stunning Spells. Thicknesse had fallen to the ground with tiny spikes erupting all over him; he seemed to be turning into some form of sea urchin. Fred looked at Percy with glee.
“You actually are joking, Perce…. I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were – ”
The air exploded. They had been grouped together, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and Percy, the two Death Eaters at their feet, one Stunned, the other Transfigured; and in that fragment of a moment, when danger seemed temporarily at bay, the world was rent apart, Harry felt himself flying through the air, and all he could do was hold as tightly as possible to that thin stick of wood that was his one and only weapon, and shield his head in his arms: He heard the screams and yells of his companions without a hope of knowing what had happened to them –
And then the world resolved itself into pain and semidarkness: He was half buried in the wreckage of a corridor that had been subjected to a terrible attack. Cold air told him that the side of the castle had been blown away, and hot stickiness on his cheek told him that he was bleeding copiously. Then he heard a terrible cry that pulled at his insides, that expressed agony of a kind neither flame nor curse could cause, and he stood up, swaying, more frightened than he had been that day, more frightened, perhaps, than he had been in his life….
And Hermione was struggling to her feet in the wreckage, and three redheaded men were grouped on the ground where the wall had blasted apart. Harry grabbed Hermione’s hand as they staggered and stumbled over stone and wood.
“No – no – no!” someone was shouting. “No! Fred! No!” And Percy was shaking his brother, and Ron was kneeling beside them, and Fred’s eyes stared without seeing, the ghost of his last laugh still etched upon his face.
礼堂大厅里深黑色的被施了魔法的天花板上散落着烁烁的星辰，下面的四张学院的长桌旁坐满了衣冠不整的学生，有些穿着旅行时用的斗篷，有些还穿着晨衣，散发着珍珠白色光芒的幽灵们在学院里来来去去。不论是学生还是鬼魂，他们的眼睛都紧紧地盯着在大厅中的一个升起的平台上讲话的麦格教授，她身后站着留下来的老师们，包括马人费伦泽，以及凤凰社里赶来参加战斗的人。
　　“……撤离将会在费尔奇先生和庞弗雷女士的监督下进行。各位级长，在我下达这个命令之后，你们立刻负责组织你们学院有秩序地到达撤离地点。”
　　许多学生看上去都吓呆了。然而，当哈利沿在墙边走过，在格兰芬多的桌子上寻找着罗恩和赫敏的身影时，赫奇帕奇的厄尼·麦克米兰站到了桌子上大声说：“如果我们想留下来战斗呢？”
　　有零零落落的掌声响起来。
　　“如果年龄合格，你们可以留下。”麦格教授说道。
　　“我们的行李怎么办？”拉文克劳的一个女生问道，“我们的皮箱呢？我们的猫头鹰呢？”
　　“我们没有时间收拾行李了。”麦格教授说。“现在最重要的事，是安全地把你们从这儿送出去。”
　　“斯内普教授在哪里？”一个斯莱特林的一个女生大声喊。
　　“他已经，用个成语来说，逃之夭夭了。”麦格教授回答。与此同时，格兰芬多、赫奇帕奇和拉文克劳的人群中爆发出一阵欢呼声。
　　哈利沿着墙根走过格兰芬多的长桌，仍然在寻找罗恩和赫敏。当他经过时，许多人转过头看着他，窃窃私语。
　　“我们已经在城堡周围布置下了保护措施，”麦格教授说道，“但是如果我们不增强它的话就支撑不了很久。因此我要求你们，必须迅速而冷静地行动，按照你们级长的——”
　　然而，她的话尾被大厅里回荡着的另一个声音给淹没了。那声音刺耳，冷酷而清晰。谁也说不出它从哪儿传来的，就好像是墙壁本身发出的声音，好像一个沉睡了几百年的野兽苏醒了过来。
　　“我知道你们打算抗争。”学生中发出尖叫声，一些人害怕地紧抱成一团，恐惧地四下寻找着声音的来源。“你们的努力都是无用的。你们无法与我抗衡。我并不想杀你们。我对霍格沃茨的教师非常尊敬，我不愿意溅洒纯血统的血液。”
　　大厅里现在安静下来了，这种安静压迫着耳膜，它实在是太过巨大了，以至于似乎不能再被大厅容纳了。
　　“把哈利·波特交给我，”伏地魔说，“就没有人会受到伤害。给我哈利·波特，我就不会碰这个学校。给我哈利·波特，我将会奖赏你们。”
　　“午夜前给我答案。”
　　寂静再一次吞没了他们。每个人都转过头去，每双眼睛都在寻找哈利，他久久地被束缚在由几千束看不见的光形成的注视里。一个身影爬上了斯莱特林的桌子，哈利认出了那是潘西·帕金森，她拼命摇动着手臂，尖叫，“他在那儿！波特在那儿！来人捉住他啊！”
　　还没等哈利开口，大批人群开始移动。他面前的格兰芬多的学生起身护住哈利，与斯莱特林的人对峙着。然后，赫奇帕奇的人都站了起来，几乎在同时拉文克劳的人也是如此，所有人都背对着哈利，所有人都转身冲着潘西，魔杖从四面八方伸出来，从长袍和袖子下伸出来。哈利震惊而不知所措。
　　“谢谢你，帕金森小姐。”麦格教授清楚地说道，“你第一个跟费尔奇先生离开大厅。如果你们学院的人想走可以跟着你。”
　　哈利听到了长凳碰撞的声音，斯莱特林的人很快就在大厅聚集起来。
　　“拉文克劳，跟上！”麦格教授大声说。
　　很快，四个桌子旁的人走光了。斯莱特林一个人都没有留下，一些拉文克劳高年级的学生仍然坐在桌边，比他们小的学生都出去了；有更多的赫奇帕奇留了下来；半数以上的格兰芬多学生没有动，麦格教授被迫离开讲台，走下来驱赶那些低年级学生。
　　“绝对不行，科林，快走！还有你，匹克斯！”
　　哈利快步走到了韦斯莱家人的身边，一起坐在格兰芬多的桌边。
　　“罗恩和赫敏在哪儿？”
　　“你还没找到……”韦斯莱先生担心地问。
　　但是当金斯莱走上讲台，开始对余下的人讲话时，韦斯莱先生不说话了。
　　“到午夜前我们只有半个小时了，所以我们必须迅速行动。霍格沃茨的老师和凤凰社的成员已经通过了一个作战计划。费立维教授，斯普劳特教授和麦格教授带领成队的人上到三个最高的塔上——拉文克劳塔，天文塔和格兰芬多塔——那里有不错的视野和绝佳的发射咒语位置。同时莱姆斯——”他指着卢平，“亚瑟，”他指着坐在格兰芬多的桌边的韦斯莱先生“和我，会带领人到地面作战。我们需要一些人到学校的入口处和走廊里组织抵抗——”
　　“听起来那是我们的工作。”弗雷德喊道，指着他自己和乔治，金斯莱赞同地点了点头。
　　“好了，领队都上来，我们分配队伍！”
　　“波特，”麦格教授快步走到他面前说，其他学生都涌上平台，在人群中互相冲撞着寻找自己的位置，接受作战指示。“你是不是应该去找什么东西？”
　　“什么？哦，”哈利说，“哦，对！”
　　他差点忘记了关于魂器的事情，几乎忘记了战斗一旦打响他就可以接着找它：罗恩和赫敏原因不明的缺席把他脑子里其他所有的念头都打消了。
　　“那快去，波特，去！”
　　“好……我这就去……”
　　他再一次跑向大厅的门口时，还能感觉到背后跟随着他的目光。大厅门口挤满了疏散出去的学生，他任由自己被他们推挤到大理石楼梯上，然而到达楼梯顶端后，他就沿着一条废弃的走廊开始快跑，恐惧和惊慌扰乱了他的思绪。他试图让自己冷静下来，集中精力寻找魂器，可他的思路就像被困在玻璃杯里的黄蜂一样——狂暴而徒劳地横冲直撞。离开了罗恩和赫敏，哈利似乎不能理清自己的思绪。他放慢速度，在走廊的中间停了下来，坐在一个毁坏了的雕像底座上，从挂在脖子上的驴皮小袋里拽出活点地图。他到处都找不到罗恩和赫敏的名字，不过他觉得有可能是因为有求必应屋的学生太多，把他俩的名字挡住了。他把地图放到一边，闭上眼睛，把脸深深地埋进双手中，试图去集中精神。
　　伏地魔认为我去了拉文克劳塔楼。
　　那就是该开始的地方，事实很确定，伏地魔派阿列克托·加罗驻守在拉文克劳的公共休息室里，这只有一个解释，那就是伏地魔害怕哈利已经知道了他的魂器和那个地方联系着。
　　但是每个人都觉得唯一能和拉文克劳联系上的东西就是丢失的王冠……魂器怎么可能是王冠呢？伏地魔，一个斯莱特林，他是怎么找到拉文克劳家族中失传了几代的王冠？活着的人没有谁看到过那个王冠，是谁告诉他去哪里可以找到的？
　　活着的人……
　　哈利睁开被手指捂住的眼睛，一下子从底座上跳起来，从他来的路上挤开一条道，拼命想抓住似乎是他最后的一线希望。他跑向大理石楼梯的时候，听到了成百上千的人往有求必应屋走去的嘈杂声音。级长们大声喊叫着发出命令，尽力与本学院的学生保持着联系，人群拥挤不堪，吵吵嚷嚷。哈利看见扎密赖斯·史密斯为了赶到队伍的前面击倒了几个一年级生，到处都有年幼的学生在哭，而年长些的人都在绝望地喊着自己同伴和兄弟姐妹的名字。
　　哈利瞥见一个珍珠白色的幽灵从大厅入口下方漂浮过去，一片喧嚣中他用自己最大的声音喊道：
　　“尼克！尼克！我需要和你谈谈！”
　　他拼命地穿过学生的浪潮，到达了楼梯的底部。格兰芬多塔里的鬼魂，差点没头的尼克站在那里等着他。
　　“哈利！我亲爱的孩子！”
　　尼克握住哈利的手；哈利感觉自己好像是把手浸入了冰水一样。
　　“尼克，你一定得帮帮我。拉文克劳的鬼魂是谁？”
　　差点没头的尼克看上去很惊讶，而且有一点不愉快。
　　“当然是格雷女士；但如果你需要鬼魂为你服务——”
　　“必须得是她！你知道她在哪里吗？”
　　“让我找找……”
　　尼克四下寻找的时候，头在圆形领花上轻微摇晃着，他透过拥挤的学生凝视着什么。
　　“她在那儿，哈利，有长头发的那个年轻女士。”
　　哈利顺着尼克透明的手指看到了一个高个子的鬼魂，发现哈利看她，她扬起了眉毛，漂浮着穿过一面墙走了。
　　哈利向她追过去，走过她消失的走廊门口就看见她在走道的尽头，仍然平稳地漂浮着远离他。
　　“嘿——等等——回来！”
　　她听从哈利的话停了下来，在地面上方又飘了几英寸。哈利猜想她是一个有着及腰长发，穿着曳地长斗篷的美人，但是她看上去也很高傲不逊。离得近了哈利就意识到他以前在走廊上碰到过她，只是从来没有说过话。
　　“你是格雷女士？”
　　她点点头，没有说话。
　　“你是拉文克劳塔的鬼魂？”
　　“不错。”她的声音丝毫不鼓舞人心。
　　“拜托了，我需要你的帮助。我要知道关于丢失的王冠的事情，请你告诉我你所知道的全部。”
　　她的嘴角扯出一抹冷笑。
　　“恐怕，”她边说边转身准备离开，“我不能帮你。”
　　“等等！”
　　他并不想喊叫的，但是愤怒和恐慌威胁着要吞没他。她在他面前盘旋的时候，哈利扫了一眼手表，还有一刻钟到午夜。
　　“这很紧急。”他大喊着，“如果那王冠还在霍格沃茨，我必须得找到它，尽快。”
　　“你并不是第一个垂涎这王冠的学生。”她轻蔑地说，“一代又一代的学生企图迫使我——”
　　“这可不是为了想要多得几分！”哈利朝她喊叫着。“这是关于伏地魔——打败伏地魔——你对那也不感兴趣吗？”
　　她是不能脸红的，不过她透明的双颊却开始变得模糊，她用激烈的语气反驳道：“我当然——你怎么敢认为……”
　　“那么，帮帮我！”
　　她镇定的表情隐去了。
　　“那——那不是——”她开始结巴，“我母亲的王冠——”
　　“你母亲的？”
　　她看上去对自己很生气。
　　“当我还活着的时候，”她僵硬地回答，“我叫海伦娜·拉文克劳。”
　　“你是她的女儿？那么，你一定知道它发生过什么事情。”
　　“那王冠象征着智慧，”她明显在努力着控制自己。“我怀疑戴上它能大幅提升你击败那个称他自己为黑魔王的人的概率……”
　　“我说了我没兴趣戴它！”哈利愤怒地咆哮，“没时间跟你解释了，但是如果你在乎霍格沃茨，如果你希望伏地魔倒台，那你必须把你所知道关于王冠的所有事情都告诉我！”
　　她仍然是静止的悬浮在半空中，低头看着哈利。一种绝望的感觉席卷了他的全身，她如果真的知道些什么，当然会告诉弗立维或者邓布利多，他们肯定问过她同样的问题了。当哈利正准备摇摇头，转身离开的时候，她低声说道：“我从我母亲那里偷到了王冠。”
　　“你……你什么？”
　　“我偷了王冠。”海伦娜·拉文克劳轻声说，“我想让自己更聪明一点，变得比我母亲更重要，我带着它离开了。”
　　哈利不知道自己为什么得到了她的信任，他也并没有问，只是静静听着她艰难地往下讲。
　　“据说我母亲从来不承认王冠丢了，仍然装作它还在她那里。她隐瞒了她的损失和我的背叛，甚至是对霍格沃茨其他的创立者也是如此。”
　　“后来我母亲病倒了……病得很重。尽管我背叛了她，她仍然苦苦想着见我最后一面。她派了一个爱了我很久但是多次被我拒绝的人来找我。她知道如果那个人不把我带回去是不会罢休的。”
　　哈利等待着。她深深吸了口气，把头扭了过去。
　　“他追踪我到了我当时藏身的森林里。当我拒绝跟他一起回去时，他变得很激动。巴罗一直都是个有着火暴性子的人。他对于我的拒绝十分愤怒，嫉妒我的自由，他刺杀了我。”
　　“巴罗？你指的是——？”
　　“是的，他就是血人巴罗，”格雷女士说着撩起了斗篷的一侧，给哈利看了她白色胸口上的深色的创伤。“当他意识到自己做了什么以后，他被巨大的悔恨淹没了，他用夺去了我生命的武器杀死了自己。这么多世纪以来，他一直戴着他的链条表示悔恨……他的确该这么做。”
　　她苦涩地说。
　　“那……那王冠？”
　　“它仍然在当初我藏它的那个地方，我听到巴罗摸索进我藏身的森林时，把它藏进一棵空心的树里。”
　　“一棵空心的树？”哈利重复道，“什么树？在哪儿？”
　　“阿尔巴尼亚的一个森林。一个孤独的地方，我认为那里能够远离我母亲的控制。”
　　“阿尔巴尼亚，”哈利重复道，混乱的思绪中浮现一种奇怪的感觉，现在他理解了为什么她告诉他不肯告诉邓布利多和弗立维。“你以前对别人说过这个故事了，对吗？别的学生？”
　　她闭上了眼睛点了点头。
　　“我不……知道……他在……奉承。他看上去……懂得……去同情……”
　　是的，哈利想，汤姆·里德尔肯定能理解海伦莲娜·拉文克劳那种迫切地想要占有不属于自己的神奇物件的欲望。
　　“嗯，你并不是第一个被里德尔套出话来的人。”哈利咕哝着说，“当他想要什么东西时他就会变得很迷人……”
　　不错，伏地魔已经从格雷女士这里套出了丢失王冠藏匿的地点。他已经去过了那广袤的森林，而且把王冠从它藏身的地方取了出来，也许就在他离开霍格沃茨后不久，甚至在他开始在博金－博克商店工作之前。
　　而后来，发生了那些事情以后，当伏地魔需要一个能够安静的藏身长达十年的地方，还有哪里比那些被隔绝的阿尔巴尼亚森林更好呢？
　　可是那个王冠一旦变成他珍贵的魂器，就不会再留在那个低矮的树丛里了……是的，王冠已经被秘密地送回了它真正的家，伏地魔一定是把它放在那儿了……
　　“……他来求职的那天晚上！”哈利思考完毕之后说道。
“你说什么？”

　　“他把王冠留在了城堡里，就在他向邓不利多请求得到一份教书的工作的那个晚上！”哈利说。他大声地说出来让自己明白这所有的事情。“他一定把王冠藏在他去邓不利多的办公室的路上，无论是上去还是下来！同时他想得到工作的尝试也是完全值得的……那样他同样能把握住得到格兰芬多的剑的机会了——谢谢你，谢谢！”

　　哈利离开了格雷女士，而她漂浮在那里，看上去十分茫然。当哈利跑过拐角进入大厅入口的时候，他看了看手表。还有五分钟就到午夜了，尽管他现在已经知道最后的魂器是什么，他仍然不清楚它在哪儿……

　　那么多届的学生都没有找到那个王冠；那就说明它不在拉文克劳塔里……但是它不在那儿，又会在哪儿呢？汤姆?里德尔在霍格沃茨城堡里发现了什么隐藏的地方呢？一个让他确信会永远保守秘密的地方？

　　哈利沉浸在绝望的推测中转了一个弯。他还没在走几步，左边的窗户就伴随着震耳欲聋的巨响被撞开，爆炸似的粉碎了。他跳向一边，一个庞大的躯体从窗户里飞了进来，撞上了对面的墙。一些大而长毛的东西一落地就分离开来，呜咽着扑向哈利。

　　“海格！”哈利吼叫道，当大狗牙牙试图爬上他的腿的时候，他转移了这只毛茸茸的巨大生物的注意力。“这是——？”、

　　“哈利，你在这儿！你在这儿！”

　　海格弯下腰给了哈利一个匆忙的却足以压断肋骨的拥抱，然后跑到了破烂的窗户旁边。

　　“好孩子，格洛普！”他通过窗户上的洞大喊。“我们一会儿见，好哥们！”

　　越过海格，哈利看到外面那深蓝夜空的远处爆发出几道光，同时听到了奇怪而刺耳的尖叫，他低头看了看表：已经是午夜，战斗开始了。

　　“啊呀，哈利，”海格喘着气说，“到点了是不是？战斗开始了？”

　　“海格，你从哪儿来的？”

　　“从我们的小屋里听到了神秘人的声音了，”海格严峻地说，“声音传送，是不是？‘午夜前把波特给我。’知道你一定在这儿，知道这一切一定会发生。下去，牙牙。所以我们来加入了，我、格洛普和牙牙。我们从森林边缘冲了一条路出来，格洛普驮着牙牙和我。告诉他把我进到城堡里面，所以他把我从窗户里推进来，上帝保佑他。我说的不太准确，但——罗恩和赫敏在哪儿？”

　　“这，”哈利说，“真是个好问题。快来。”

　　他们快步跑过走廊，牙牙在后面懒散地跟着。哈利能听到走廊四周传来的奔跑的脚步声和叫喊声。透过窗户，他看到外面黑暗的地面上闪过更多光芒。

　　“我们这是去哪儿？”海格喘着粗气问，跟着哈利的脚步重重地迈着步子，震得地板都在摇晃。

　　“我也不确定，”哈利回答，随机的又转了个弯，“但是罗恩和赫敏一定就在附近的什么地方……”

　　战斗的第一次伤亡就散落在他们前面的走廊上：两个以往守护着教师室的石头怪兽已经被另一个炸烂的窗户里射进来的恶咒给炸裂了。它们在地板上微微地晃动，当哈利从一个没有实体的头上跳过去的时候，它模糊地呻吟着。“哦，别管我……我会在这儿碎掉……”

　　它丑陋的石头头颅使得哈利突然想到了谢农费里厄斯屋子里罗伊娜?拉文克劳的半身像，她戴着的那个疯狂的头饰——还有拉文克劳塔里的塑像，她白色的卷发上戴着石头刻出来的王冠……

　　当他跑到这通道的尽头时，关于第三个雕像的记忆出现在了他的脑海中:一个丑陋的老巫师，哈利曾经在他的头上放了一顶假发和一个压扁了的帽子。这个记忆带来的震惊的激情绝不亚于火热威士忌的功效，哈利几乎跌倒在地。

　　至少，他已经知道了魂器在哪里等着他……

　　汤姆?里德尔从来没有跟任何人吐露过这件事，而且向来是单独行动，也许他是太傲慢了，认为只有他能够参透霍格沃兹城堡最深的秘密。像邓不利多和弗立维这样的模范学生当然从来不会涉足那样的特殊领域，然而他，哈利，在学校的时候误打误撞地知道了这些冷僻的东西……现在至少有一个是他和伏地魔都知道的秘密地点，而邓不利多从来没有发现过……

　　他被斯普劳特教授带回了现实，后者正一边大声训话一边跑过，身后跟着纳威和六个学生，所有人都戴着耳罩，扛着像是大盆植物的东西。

　　“曼陀罗花！”纳威跑过哈利身边的时候越过他的肩膀大声喊道。“把它们扔到墙那边去……他们不喜欢这样！“

　　哈利在不断摇晃的走廊中尽力向前跑着，牙牙跟在他身后。他们跑过一个又一个画像，画中的人物在他们旁边奔跑，男巫和女巫们或是穿着环领和马裤，或是穿着盔甲和斗篷，把自己拼命塞进别人的画框，尖叫地说着来自城堡其他地方的消息。当他们到达这条走廊的尽头时，整个城堡都摇晃了。一个巨大的花瓶受到爆炸力量的冲击从底座上炸开了。哈利清楚这比教师们和凤凰社成员所能使出来的魔法要邪恶的多。

　　“没事的，牙牙——没事的！”海格喊道，但是那只大狗随着瓷器的碎片像空气中划过的榴霰弹一样逃出老远，海格脚步重重地跑去追那只狗，现在就只剩哈利一个人了。

　　哈利在不断摇晃的走廊中尽力向前跑着，他的魔杖已经准备好了。在这段走廊里时，那个小小的画中骑士，卡多根爵士，在哈利的身边从一幅画冲到另一幅画，他大声尖叫着鼓励哈利，盔甲发出叮叮当当的声音，他的矮种马跟在他的身后慢跑。

　　“坏蛋，流氓，无赖，恶棍，把他们赶出去。哈利?波特，让他们滚蛋！”

　　哈利快速转过一个弯，遇到了弗雷德和一小队学生，其中有李?乔丹和汉娜?艾博特，他们站在另一个空底座的旁边，那个塑像下隐藏着一个秘密通道。他们都拔出了魔杖，凝神倾听隐藏着的洞口里的动静。

　　“今晚上真不错！”城堡又一次巨大震动的时候，弗雷德大喊。哈利跑过时感受到同样的兴奋和害怕。然而他进入的下一个走廊里，到处都是猫头鹰，洛丽丝夫人气急败坏，用爪子去抓它们，无数次想把它们送回原来的地方。

　　“波特！”

　　阿不福思?邓不利多站在前面的走廊口守着，他的魔杖拿在手里，随时准备着。

　　“我的酒馆里有成百上千个学生吵吵嚷嚷的，波特！”

　　“我知道，我们在撤离，”哈利说，“伏地魔的——”

　　“——攻击是因为你没有被交出去，是啊，”阿不福思说，“我不是聋子，整个霍格莫德都听到他的话了。但是你们谁也没想过要扣下一些斯莱特林作为人质吗？你们刚刚安全地送出了好些个食死徒的孩子啊。把他们留在这里不是更明智吗？”

　　“那样也不能阻止伏地魔的，”哈利说，“如果你哥哥还活着，他也绝不会那样做。”

　　阿不福思嘟囔着什么，把头转向了相反的方向。

　　如果你哥哥还活着，他也绝不会那样做……嗯，那是事实。哈利再次奔跑起来的时候他想：邓不利多，他曾经维护了斯内普那么久，绝对不会把学生当作敲诈的筹码……

　　哈利滑过最后一个转角时，他看见了他们，大叫一声，混合了解脱和愤怒——是罗恩和赫敏，两个人的怀抱里满满的都是一些巨大弯曲肮脏的黄色物体，罗恩胳膊下还夹着一把扫帚。

　　“你们到底去了哪里？”哈利喊。

　　“密室。”罗恩说。

　　“密，密室？”哈利说，在他们面前停下来的时候，不稳地晃了一下。

　　“是罗恩，全是罗恩的主意！”赫敏喘着气说，“这难道不是天才的想法吗？当你离开后，我对罗恩说，即便我们找到了另一个魂器，我们要怎么样除掉它？我们到现在都没能销毁那个圣杯啊！然后他就想到了！蛇怪的毒牙！”

　　“什么——？”

　　“一些能毁掉魂器的东西，”罗恩简单地说。

　　哈利的目光向下移到了罗恩和赫敏怀抱着的东西上：巨大的弯曲的长牙。他现在明白了，那是从死去的蛇怪骨架上掰下来的。

　　“但是你们是怎么进去的？”他问，目光又从长牙移到了罗恩身上。“你得会说蛇佬腔！”

　　“他会！”赫敏轻声说，“让他瞧瞧，罗恩！”

　　罗恩发出一种恐怖的，像是被谁扼住了的嘶嘶的声音。

　　“这是你当时用来开启盒子的声音，”他抱歉地对哈利说。“我试了好几次都没发正确，但是，”他微微耸了耸肩，“我们最后进去了。”

　　“他真令人惊讶！”赫敏，“太神奇了！”

　　“所以……”哈利努力想跟上思路，“所以……”

　　“所以我们又解决了一个魂器，”罗恩说着从他的夹克下面拿出了赫奇帕奇圣杯被毁坏的残骸。“赫敏刺穿了它。我觉得这是她该得的。她还从来没享受过这种事呢。”

　　“干的漂亮！”哈利激动地大喊。

　　“没什么。”罗恩说，虽然看上去他对自己做的事也高兴得不得了。

　　“那么你有什么新进展吗？”

　　罗恩话音刚落，他们头顶就发生了爆炸：三个人抬头看时灰尘从天花板上落了下来，他们还听到了一声遥远的尖叫。

　　“我知道了王冠长什么样了，并且我也知道它在哪儿了，”哈利快速地说道，“他恰好就把它藏在我藏旧魔药课本的地方——那里几个世纪以来都是人们藏东西的地方。他以为他是唯一一个能够找到那地方的人。快来！”

　　随着墙壁再一次的震颤，哈利把另外两个人带回到隐藏着的入口，然后下行走过楼梯进入了有求必应屋。里面只有三个女人：金妮，唐克斯和一个头上戴着被蛀坏的帽子的年老女巫，哈利一眼就认出来了那是纳威的奶奶。

　　“啊，波特，”她清晰地说着，就好象她一直在等他一样。“你可以告诉我们现在怎么样了。”

　　“大家都还好吧？”金妮和唐克斯同时问道。

　　“就我所知……”哈利说，“通往猪头酒吧的通道上还有人吗？”

　　他清楚如果里面还有使用者的话屋子就没办法变形。

　　“我是最后一个过来的，”隆巴顿夫人说道。“我把通道封上了，我觉得在阿不福思离开酒吧后还敞着那通道是极不明智的。你们看到我的孙子了吗？”

　　“他在战斗，”哈利说。

　　“天性使然啊，”老夫人骄傲地说，“抱歉，我必须去帮助他了。”她用令人惊讶的速度朝着石头台阶一路小跑。

　　哈利看着唐克斯：“我以为你会和小泰迪一起留在你妈妈家？”

　　“我不能忍受闲着什么都不知道……”唐克斯看上去很苦恼。“她会照看好泰德……你们看见莱姆斯了没？”

　　“他正计划着带上一队人到地面上战斗……”

　　唐克斯二话没说就冲了出去。

　　“金妮，”哈利说，“我很抱歉，但是我们需要你也离开。就一会儿就好，然后你就可以再进来了。”

　　金妮看上去很高兴自己能离开这避难所。

　　“然后你就可以回来了！”哈利在她身后大喊，看着她跟着唐克斯跑出了楼梯。“你必须回来待着！”

　　“等会儿！”罗恩尖锐地大叫，“我们忘了一些人！”

　　“谁？”赫敏问道。

　　“那些家养小精灵，他们还都在下面的厨房里啊，不是吗？”

　　“你是说我们要他们也参加战斗？”哈利问。

　　“不，”罗恩严肃地说，“我的意思是我们得去告诉他们要赶快离开。我们不想让多比的遭遇再重演了，不是吗？我们不能命令他们去为我们卖命——”

　　赫敏怀里抱着的尖牙全掉在了地上。她跑向罗恩，用力地环住他的脖子，把自己的嘴唇完全地亲上了他的。罗恩扔掉了所有抱着的牙和扫帚柄，热情地回应她，把她抱离了地面。

　　“现在是时候嘛？”哈利小声地说，然而他俩只是抱得越来越紧并且开始摇晃，他提高了嗓门，“喂！外面还在战斗着哪！”

　　罗恩和赫敏分开了，胳膊仍然拥抱着彼此。

　　“我知道，哥们，”罗恩说，他看上去好像刚被大头棒打中了后脑勺一样，“但是，勿失良机啊，不是吗？”

　　“别提那事了，魂器的事怎么办？”哈利喊起来，“你就不能等到我们拿到魂器以后再说吗？”

　　“是……好的……抱歉……”罗恩说，他和赫敏把地上的尖牙拣起来，两个人的脸都红了。

　　当他们三个人回到走廊以后，在他们在有求必应屋里的这段时间里，城堡被严重地损坏了：墙壁和天花板比之前震动得更厉害了，空气中都是灰尘，透过最近的窗户，哈利看到绿色和红色的亮光从距离城堡脚下很近的地方发射出来，哈利知道食死徒已经快要冲进来了。向下看的时候，哈利看到了巨人格洛普缓慢地走着，挥舞着一个看起来像是从屋顶掉落的怪兽头，他在怒吼着表达他的不快。

　　“希望他能踩到他们身上！”罗恩说，更多叫喊声回荡在附近。

　　“如果不是我们帮了忙的话！”一个声音说道。哈利回过头来，看见金妮和唐克斯，两人都掏出魔杖站在旁边一个少了好几块窗格的窗户边。即使是他正在看着她，金妮仍然朝着下面的一群人极其准确地发射出了恶咒。

　　“好姑娘！”一个人叫喊着从灰尘中朝着他们跑来，哈利又一次看见了阿不福斯，他灰白的头发飘动着，带领着一小群学生。“看上去他们可能企图正在打开北边的碉堡，他们带来了自己的巨人！”

　　“你看见莱姆斯了吗？”唐克斯冲他喊道。

　　“他刚才在和多洛霍夫决斗，”阿不福斯大声说，“然后就没见过他了！”

　　“唐克斯，”金妮说，“唐克斯，我确信他没事的……”

　　但是唐克斯已经跑进了阿不福斯身后的灰尘中。

　　金妮转过来，无助地看着哈利，罗恩和赫敏。

　　“他们都会没事的，”哈利安慰道，尽管他知道这只不过是一些无用的空话。“金妮，我们一会儿就回来，避开危险，保持安全……走吧！”他对罗恩和赫敏说。他们沿着有求必应屋外的墙跑了回去，那墙背后就是等着服从下次进入者命令的那间屋子。

　　我需要那个藏着所有东西的地方。哈利在脑海里恳求着。他们第三次跑过的时候，门显现出来。

　　当他们穿过了门口，把屋子的门在身后关上时，战斗所带来的激情瞬时消失了：一切都是那么安静。他们在一个有着城市外表和一个大教堂大小的地方，它高耸的墙是由成千上万个早已经去世了的学生藏起来的东西堆积起来的。

　　“他从来没想到过别人也能进来？”罗恩问，他的声音在寂静中回荡。

　　“他以为他是唯一的一个，”哈利说，“对他来说很不幸的是我也需要藏点东西……这边走，”他补充道，“我想它就是在这儿……”

　　他走过自命不凡的侏儒，走过那个花了德拉科?马尔福整整一年时间修好了的并给他们带来惨烈后果的消失柜。他犹豫了，四下打量了一下那堆满垃圾的走廊，他不知道接下来该怎么走了。

　　“王冠飞来，”赫敏绝望地大叫，然而，并没有什么东西穿过空气向他们飞来。这个房间看上去像是古灵阁的拱顶，不像是能轻易找出藏着的什么东西似的。

　　“我们分头找，”哈利告诉两个同伴，“找一个戴着假发和冕状头饰老头的石头上身像！它放在一个橱柜上，绝对在这儿附近的一个地方。”

　　他们加速跑上一条临近的走道；哈利能听到他俩的脚步声在这些成堆的垃圾，瓶子，帽子，箱子，椅子，书，武器，扫帚柄，球棒中回响着。

　　“在这附近的一个地方，”哈利自言自语地咕哝着。“一个地方……一个地方……”

　　哈利在迷宫中越走越深，寻找着他上次来到这间屋子时留下印象的事物。他的呼吸在他自己听起来似乎变大声了，他觉得自己的灵魂在无法控制地颤抖。它就在那儿，就在前面，那个他曾经把他的旧魔药书藏在里面的油漆起泡的旧橱柜，在橱柜的顶上，那个有麻点的巫师石像戴着一顶肮脏的破旧卷发和一个看上去像是古老褪色了的王冠。

　　只有几步之遥了，哈利已经把手伸了出去，然而这时，他身后响起一个声音：“别动，波特。”

　　他一下子刹住了，转过身来。克拉布和高尔肩并肩地站在他后面，手中的魔杖直指着哈利。从他们带着嘲笑的脸庞的间隙中，哈利看到了德拉科?马尔福。

　　“你拿的是我的魔杖，波特。”马尔福说道，透过克拉布和高尔中间的空隙指着自己的魔杖。

　　“再也不是了，”哈利喘着粗气说，把手中的山楂木的魔杖握得更紧了。“谁赢了就归谁，马尔福。谁把魔杖借给你了？”

　　“我妈妈。”德拉科说。

　　哈利笑起来，尽管现在的局面实际上并没有什么好笑的。他再也听不见罗恩和赫敏的声音了。似乎他们已经为了找王冠跑出了听力范围之外了。

　　“你们三个怎么没和伏地魔一起？”哈利问。

　　“我们会得到奖励的，”克拉布说。对他那样魁梧的人来说，他的声音是出奇的柔和，哈利以前几乎从来没有听到过他说话。克拉布说话时就像是个被许诺了一大袋子糖果的小孩子：“我们不回去，波特。我们决定不离开。决定把你带给他。”

　　“好计划，”哈利用嘲笑的赞美语气说。他不能相信在自己已经离魂器这么近的时候，居然被马尔福，克拉布和高尔阻挠住了。他开始慢慢地沿着边缘后退，想退到歪戴着魂器的塑像下面。如果他能在战斗开始前用手够到它……

　　“你们是怎么进来的？”他想转移他们的注意力。

　　“我最后一年实际上是在藏东西的屋子里度过的。”马尔福用生脆的声音说，“我知道怎么能进来。”

　　“我们就在走廊外面等着，”高尔发出呼噜呼噜的声音，“我们现在能用幻身咒了！然后，”他的脸上扯开了一个痴呆的笑，“你们就在我们面前进来了，还说着要找到什么完冠！什么是完冠？”

　　“哈利？”罗恩的声音突然从哈利右边的墙那边传过来，“你在和什么人说话吗？”

　　瞬间，克拉布用自己的魔杖指着足有五十英尺高的旧家具，破损的皮箱，旧书，长袍和其他分辨不出的垃圾组成的小山喊道：“速速塌陷！”

　　那墙开始摇晃，顶部的三分之一开始崩塌，落到旁边罗恩站着的走道里。

　　“罗恩！”哈利怒吼着，在看不见的地方传来赫敏的尖叫，哈利听到旁边的墙崩塌后，无数的物体落到地面上的声音，他掏出自己的魔杖指着墙壁说：“咒立停！”它又变得稳定了下来。

　　“不！”马尔福抓着克拉布胳膊喊道，后者准备重复他的咒语。“如果你把这屋子弄塌了可能再也找不到那个王冠了！”

　　“那又怎样？”克拉布说，努力想挣脱出来。“黑魔王想要的是哈利波特。谁会在乎那个王冠？”

　　“波特进来想拿到它，”马尔福强忍着装出一副耐心的样子跟他蠢笨的同伴解释。“所以那就是说……”

　　“那就是说’？”克拉布带着掩饰不住的残暴转向马尔福。“谁在乎你怎么想的？我再也不会听你的了，德拉科。你和你爸爸玩完了。”

　　“哈利！”罗恩在旁边的垃圾堆里又喊道，“出什么事了？”

　　“哈利！”克拉布模仿着说。“出什么事了……不，波特！钻心剜骨！”

　　哈利突然冲向王冠，克拉布的咒语擦过了哈利，却正好击中石头雕像，后者被炸飞到了起来。王冠向上飞了出去，落到了视线外的那大堆的垃圾中。

　　“住手！”马尔福极度愤怒地大喊，他的声音的巨大的空间中回荡，“黑魔王想要他活着——”

　　“怎么？我并没杀了他啊，不是吗？”克拉布怒吼道，把马尔福钳住着他的胳膊甩开，“但是如果我能杀了他的话，我会的，黑魔王无论如何是想让他死，有什么不同？”

　　一道猩红色的光芒在距离哈利几英寸的地方炸开，赫敏转到了他身后的拐弯处并向克拉布的头部发射了一个昏迷咒。马尔福把他拖到一边，他才躲了过去。

　　“是那个泥巴种！阿瓦达索命！”

　　哈利看到赫敏跳到了一边，他脑中对克拉布想要杀人的愤怒盖过了一切其他的东西。他向克拉布发射了一个昏迷咒，克拉布突然撞了过来，把他手中马尔福的魔杖撞掉了，滚到了一大堆坏家具和骨头下面看不到的地方。

　　“别杀他！别杀他！”马尔福对克拉布和高尔大喊，两人都用手中的魔杖指着哈利：他们瞬间的犹豫就是哈利想要的。

　　“除你武器！”

　　高尔的魔杖从他的手中飞了出去，消失在他身后的垃圾山中；高尔蠢笨地开始往上跳，想把魔杖拿回来；马尔福跳起来躲开了赫敏的第二个昏迷咒，罗恩则是突然出现在走道的一头，向克拉布发射了一个全身束缚咒，差了一点，没击中。

　　克拉布滚着翻了个身，再次尖叫着，“阿瓦达索命！”罗恩跳离了视线躲开那一道绿光。没有魔杖的马尔福在赫敏冲他们发射魔咒的时候躲到了一个三脚书橱后面，赫敏出来就给了高尔一个昏迷咒。

　　“它就在附近！”哈利冲她大喊，指着那个旧王冠落下去的大堆垃圾说，“我去帮罗恩的时候你过去找——”

　　“哈利！”她尖叫。

　　哈利身后的一个吼叫着翻滚着的声音给了他一个警告。他回头看到罗恩和克拉布都拼命向他的方向往上跑来。

　　“喜欢吗，人渣？”克拉布一边跑一边大喊。

　　但是他好象已经不能控制他的咒语了。不同寻常规模的火焰追赶着他们，吞噬着两旁的垃圾山，离着他们近若咫尺的地方烟尘纷纷扬扬。

　　“清水如泉！”哈利大叫，但是魔杖顶端喷出的水立刻就蒸发了。

　　“快跑！”马尔福抓着昏迷的高尔，把他拖在身后；克拉布超过了他们所有人，现在看上去很害怕；哈利，罗恩和赫敏紧跟其后，火焰在后面紧追不舍。这不是普通的火，克拉布用了一个哈利从来不知道的咒语。当他们转过一个弯后，那火仍然追赶着他们，就好象它是活着的，有感知力，一门心思地想要杀死他们。现在那火焰又变异了，形成一堆凶残的野兽的样子：燃烧着的大毒蛇，银蛟和龙升起又落下，几个世纪的废墟被它们的爪子高高地抛起来，落入它们那长着长牙的嘴里。

　　马尔福，克拉布，和高尔从视线里消失了；哈利，罗恩和赫敏突然停了下来；火焰形成的怪兽把他们团团围住，越绕越紧，它们的爪子，角和尾巴抽打着，身边的热形成了一堵热墙，拦住了他们。

　　“我们该怎么办？”赫敏在火焰发出的震耳欲聋的声音中大叫，“我们该怎么办？”

　　“这儿！”

　　哈利从最近的垃圾堆里抓过了两个看上去很笨重的扫帚，然后扔给了罗恩一个，罗恩把赫敏带在了自己身后。哈利抬腿骑在扫帚上，重重地蹬了地一下，冲了上去。他们的脚擦过在下面正在霍霍磨爪的猛禽的尖利的嘴。在他们下方，被诅咒的火焰吞噬了几个世纪里被追捕的学生的禁物，数以千计的被禁止实验的罪恶成果，无数在这个屋子里寻求避难的灵魂的秘密。哈利到处都看不到马尔福，克拉布和高尔。他尽可能地飞得很低，不让自己碰到正在掠食的怪兽，想找到他们的踪影，但是只有火焰，多么残酷的死法……他根本不想这样的……

　　“哈利，我们出去吧，出去吧！”罗恩大喊，尽管在这浓密的黑烟里看不到出口在哪里。

　　然后哈利听到了一个微弱可怜的人类的尖叫，四周是可怕的暴乱，大口吞噬的火焰发出的巨响。

　　“那——太——危险了——！”罗恩大叫，但是哈利翻滚着冲了下去，他的眼镜在烟雾里给了他的眼睛一些小小保护，他掠过下面的火浪寻找生命的迹象，还没有像木头那样被烧焦的一个手脚或者一张脸……

　　然后他看到了他们：马尔福用胳膊环着丧失意识的高尔，两人在一张已经被烧焦了的桌子堆上，哈利冲了下去。马尔福看到他过来后举起了一只胳膊，哈利抓住那胳膊的一瞬间就知道事情不妙。高尔太重了，马尔福汗湿的手立即滑了出去——

　　“如果我们因为他们而死掉了，我就要杀了你，哈利！”罗恩愤怒的声音传来，随着身后的巨大的吐火的银蛟向他们俯冲下来，他和赫敏把高尔拽到他们的扫帚上飞升起来，翻转着再次冲了出去，马尔福爬到了哈利后面。

　　“门口，快去门口，门口！”马尔福在哈利耳边狂叫着，哈利加速跟在罗恩，赫敏和高尔后面，翻滚的黑烟使得他几乎喘不过气来。他们身边最后的还没被火焰吞噬的东西都被扬到了空中，这些被诅咒的火焰怪兽像是在庆祝一样把东西接连抛起：杯子和盔甲，一条闪光的项链，还有一个古老的，颜色褪去的王冠——

　　“你在干什么，你在干什么！门在那边！”马尔福尖叫着，但是哈利突然掉头俯冲下去。王冠像是在以慢动作下落，旋转闪烁着，朝着下面大张着嘴的毒蛇掉下去，然后他抓住了，用手腕勾住了王冠——

　　大蛇向哈利扑了过来，他又猛地拐了个弯，急速向上飞着，直直朝着他祈祷着希望是门的地方冲过去。罗恩，赫敏和高尔都不见了，马尔福在尖叫，紧紧地抓着哈利，把他弄的生疼。然后哈利透过烟雾看到了墙上的一个长方形的板，哈利对准后调整了扫帚的方向，几秒钟后清新的空气充满了他的双肺，他们撞上了走廊外面的墙。

　　马尔福从扫帚上脸朝下地摔了下来，躺在地上连喘带咳，恶心得要干呕。哈利翻了个个坐直了身子，有求必应屋的入口消失了，罗恩和赫敏坐在仍然昏迷不醒的高尔旁边大口地喘着气。

　　“克－克拉布，”马尔福一能开口说话就咳着说，“克－克拉布……”

　　“他死了，”罗恩冷冷地说。

　　除了喘气和咳嗽声，四周一片寂静。城堡受到数次重击，一大队透明的幽灵骑着马经过他们，它们因为战斗欲的驱使仰天长嘶。当无头猎手经过的时候哈利蹒跚着站起来，看着周围的情况。战斗仍然在他周围四处进行着。他听到了比撤退的幽灵发出的更多的惨叫声。

　　恐慌席卷了他。

　　“金妮在哪儿？”他突兀地问道，“她应该在这儿的。她应该回到有求必应屋去的。”

　　“啊呀，那一场火过去以后，你还指望那里能用吗？”罗恩问，他也站了起来，摩挲着胸口四下看。“我们是不是应该分开然后看看——”

　　“不行。”赫敏说着也站了起来。马尔福和高尔仍然消沉地瘫在地上，他们都失去了魔杖。

　　“让我们待在一起。我建议我们去——哈利，你胳膊上的什么东西？”

　　“什么？哦，对了——”

　　他从手腕上把王冠取下举了起来。王冠还是很烫，被烟灰弄黑了，然而他把它拿得很近后还是能看清上面雕刻着的小字：无法估量的智慧是人类的最大财富。

　　一种深色柏油样，像血的东西从王冠上渗出来。突然间哈利感觉到这东西狂暴地颤动着，在他的手中裂开了，这时候他觉得他听到了一种模糊而遥远的由于痛苦而发出的叫声，不是从城堡外的地面上传来的，而是来自他手中刚刚变成碎片的东西。

　　“这一定是因为魔鬼火焰！”赫敏盯着他手中的东西轻声说。

　　“什么？”

　　“魔鬼火焰——被诅咒的火焰……这也是毁掉魂器的一种方法，但是我可不敢使用它，它太危险了……克拉布是怎么会使用……”

　　“一定是跟卡卢斯兄弟学的，”哈利咬着牙说。

　　“真可惜他们教他怎么停止这魔法的时候他没有仔细听，”罗恩说，他的头发和赫敏一样都烤焦了，脸上沾满了黑灰，“如果他没有试图杀了我们，我会为他的死非常难过。”

　　“你还没意识到么？”赫敏轻声说，“这就意味着，只要我们能杀了那大蛇——”

　　从走廊里传来的声音毫无疑问是有人在决斗，赫敏止住了话头。哈利看了四周，心沉了下去：食死徒已经进入了霍格沃兹。弗雷德和珀西闯入了视线，两个人都在与戴着面具和兜帽的人战斗。

　　哈利，罗恩和赫敏跑上前去帮忙，光芒从四面八方发射出来，和珀西交手的人很快就败下阵来：接着他的兜帽滑落下来，他们看见了他高高的前额和成条的头发——

　　“你好啊，部长！”珀西怒吼着，干净利落地冲底克尼斯发射了一个恶咒，他扔掉了他的魔杖，双手在胸前的衣服上到处乱抓，明显正处于极度的痛苦之中。

　　“我跟你提到过我辞职的事了吗？”

　　“你在开玩笑吧，珀西！”弗雷德大喊，跟他对打的那个食死徒被三个昏迷咒击中后重重地倒在地上。底克尼斯浑身是刺地倒在了地上，看上去像是一种海胆。弗雷德兴奋地看着珀西：“你真的是在开玩笑，珀西……我已经很久没听到过你开玩笑了，自从你——”

　　空气中有什么爆炸了，他们凑在一起，哈利，罗恩，赫敏，弗雷德和珀西，两个食死徒倒下他们脚下，一个昏迷了，另外的一个变了形；就在刚才的那一刹那，当危险似乎已经消散的时候，世界被撕裂了，哈利觉得自己被抛到了空中，他所能做的只是尽可能紧紧抓住那个细细的棍子，它是他的唯一的武器，他把头用胳膊保护起来：他听到同伴们尖叫的声音，对发生的事情一无所知——

　　然后世界分裂成了痛苦和黑暗：哈利的半个身子都被埋在了遭受重击的走廊废墟里。冰冷的空气告诉哈利城堡的一边已经完全炸塌了，脸上热热粘粘的感觉提醒他自己正在大量失血。然后他听见自己心里恐惧的哭声，那是一种绝不是由火焰或者诅咒能造成的痛苦，他摇晃着站了起来，比今天一天的任何时候都害怕，也许，比他有生以来的任何时候都害怕……

　　赫敏也从废墟中挣扎着站了起来，三个红头发的男人在墙倒塌的地方又聚到了一起。他们蹒跚摇晃地走过石块和木头的时候，哈利抓住了赫敏的手。

　　“不——不——不！”有人在大叫。“不！弗雷德！不！”

　　珀西拼命摇晃着他的弟弟，罗恩跪在他的旁边，弗雷德的眼睛无神地睁着，之前的笑容还凝在脸上。

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爱就像蓝天白云，晴空万里，突然暴风雨！
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Chapter 30 The Sacking of Severus Snape
The moment her finger touched the Mark, Harry’s scar burned savagely, the starry room vanished from sight, and he was standing upon an outcrop of rock beneath a cliff, and the sea was washing around him and there was a triumph in his heart – They have the boy.
A loud bang brought Harry back to where he stood. Disoriented, he raised his wand, but the witch before him was already falling forward; she hit the ground so hard that the glass in the bookcases tinkled.
“I’ve never Stunned anyone except in our D.A. lessons,” said Luna, sounding mildly interested. “That was noisier than I though it would be.”
And sure enough, the ceiling had begun to tremble Scurrying, echoing footsteps were growing louder from behind the door leading to the dormitories. Luna’s spell had woken Ravenclaws sleeping above.
“Luna, where are you? I need to get under the Cloak!”
Luna’s feet appeared out of nowhere,; he hurried to her side and she let the Cloak fall back over them as the door opened and a stream of Ravenclaws, all in their nightclothes, flooded into the common room. there were gasps and cries of surprise as they saw Alecto lying there unconscious. Slowly they shuffled in around her, a savage beast that might wake at any moment and attack them. Then one brave little first-year darted up to her and prodded her backside with his big toe.
“I think she might be dead!” he shouted with delight.
“Oh look,” whispered Luna happily, as the Ravenclaws crowded in around Alecto. “They’re pleased!”
“Yeah… great…”
Harry closed his eyes, and as his scar throbbed he chose to sink again into Voldemort’s mind…. He was moving along the tunnel into the first cave…. He had chosen to make sure of the locker before coming…but that would not take him long….
There was a rap on the common room door and every Ravenclaw froze. From the other side, Harry heard the soft, musical voice that issued from the eagle door knocker: “Where do Vanished objects go?”
“I dunno, do I? Shut it!“ snarled an uncouth voice that Harry knew was that of the Carrow brother , Amycus, ”Alecto? Alecto? Are you there? Have you got him? Open the door!“
The Ravenclaws were whispering amongst themselves, terrified. Then without warning, there came a series of loud bangs, as though somebody was firing a gun into the door.
“ALECTO! If he comes, and we haven’t got Potter – d’you want to go the same way as the Malfoys? ANSWER ME!“ Amycus bellowed, shaking the door for all he was worth, but still it did not open. The Ravenclaws were all backing away, and some of the most frightened began scampering back up the stair case to their beds. Then, just as Harry was wondering whether he ought not to blast open the door and Stun Amycus before the Death Eater could do anything else, a second, most familiar voice rang out beyond the door.
“May I ask what you are doing, Professor Carrow?”
“Trying – to get– through this damned – door!” shouted Amycus. “Go and get Flitwick! Get him to open it, now!”
“But isn’t your sister in there” asked Professor McGonagall. “Didn’t Professor Flitwick let her in earlier this evening, at your urgent request? Perhaps she could open the door for you? Then you needn’t wake up half the castle.”
“She ain’t answering, you old besom! You open it! Darn! Do it, now!“
“Certainly, if you wish it,“ said Professor McGonagall, with awful coldness, There was a genteel tap of the knocker and the musical voice asked again.
“Where do Vanished objects go?”
“Into non being, which is to say, everything,” replied Professor McGonagall.
“Nicely phrased,” replied the eagle door knocker, and the door swung open.
The few Ravenclaws who had remained behind sprinted for the stairs as Amycus burst over the threshold, brandishing his wand. Hunched like his sister, he had a pallid, doughy face and tiny eyes, which fell at once on Alecto, sprawled motionless on the floor. He let out a yell of fury and fear.
“What’ve they done, the little whelps?“ he screamed. ”I’ll Cruciate the lot of ‘em till they tell me who did it – and what’s the Dark Lord going to say?“ he shrieked, standing over his sister and smacking himself on the forehead with his fist, ”We haven’t got him, and they’ve gone and killed her!“
“She’s only Stunned,” said Professor McGonagall impatiently, who had stooped down to examine Alecto. “She’ll be perfectly all right.”
“No she bludgering well won’t!” bellowed Amycus. “Not after the Dark Lord gets hold of her! She’s gone and sent for him, I felt me Mark burn, and he thinks we’ve got Potter!”
“‘Got Potter’?” said Professor McGonagall sharply, “What do you mean, ‘got Potter’?”
“He told us Potter might try and get inside Ravenclaw Tower, and to send for him if we caught him!”
“Why would Harry Potter try to get inside Ravenclaw Tower! Potter belongs in my House!”
Beneath the disbelief and anger, Harry heard a little strain of pride in her voice and affection for Minerva McGonagall gushed up inside him.
“We was told he might come in here!” said Carrow. “I dunno why, do I?”
Professor McGonagall stood up and her beady eyes swept the room. Twice they passed right over the place where Harry and Luna stood.
“We can push it off on the kids,” said Amycus, his pig like face suddenly crafty. “Yeah, that’s what we’ll do. We’ll say Alecto was ambushed by the kids, them kids up there” – he looked up at the starry ceiling toward the dormitories – “ and we’ll say they forced her to pres her Mark, and that’s why he got a false alarm…. He can punish them. Couple of kids more or less, what’s the difference?”
“Only the difference between truth and lie, courage and cowardice,“ said Professor McGonagall, who had turned pale, ”a difference, in short, which you and your sister seem unable to appreciate. But let me make one thing very clear. You are not going to pass off your many ineptitudes on the students of Hogwarts. I shall not permit it.“
“Excuse me?”
Amycus moved forward until he was offensively close to Professor McGonagall, his face within inches of hers. She refused to back away, but looked down at him as if he were something disgusting she had found stuck to the lavatory seat.
“It’s not a case of what you’ll permit, Minerva McGonagall. Your time’s over. It’s us what’s in charge here now, and you’ll back me up or you’ll pay the price.“
And he spat in her face.
Harry pulled the Cloak off himself, raised his wand, and said, “You shouldn’t have done that.”
As Amycus spun around, Harry shouted, “Crucio!”
The Death Eater was lifted off his feet. He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain, and then, with a crunch and a shattering of glass, he smashed into the front of a bookcase and crumpled, insensible, to the floor. “I see what Bellatrix meant,” said Harry, the blood thundering through his brain, “you need to really mean it.”
“Potter!“ whispered Professor McGonagall, clutching her heart. “Potter – you’re here! What–? How–?” She struggled to pull herself together. “Potter, that was foolish!”
“He spat at you,” said Harry.
“Potter, I – that was very – gallant of you – but don’t you realize –?“
“Yeah, I do,” Harry assured her. Somehow her panic steadied him. “Professor McGonagall, Voldemort’s on the way.”
“Oh, are we allowed to say the name now?” asked Luna with an air of interest, pulling off the Invisibility Cloak. The appearance of a second outlaw seemed to overwhelm Professor McGonagall, who staggered backward and fell into a nearby chair, clutching at the neck of her old tartan dressing gown.
“I don’t think it makes any difference what we call him,” Harry told Luna. “He already knows where I am.”
In a distant part of Harry’s brain, that part connected to the angry, burning scar, he could see Voldemort sailing fast over the dark lake in the ghostly green boat…. He had nearly reached the island where the stone basin stood….
“You must flee,” whispered Professor McGonagall, “Now Potter, as quickly as you can!”
“I can’t,” said Harry, “There’s something I need to do. Professor, so you know where the diadem of Ravenclaw is?”
“The d-diadem of Ravenclaw? Of course not – hasn’t it been lost for centuries?“ She sat up a little straighter ”Potter, it was madness, utter madness, for you to enter this castle–“
“I had to,“ said Harry. ”Professor, there’s something hidden here that I’m supposed to find, and it could be the diadem– if I could just speak to Professor Flitwick–“
There was a sound of movement, of clinking glass. Amycus was coming round. Before Harry or Luna could act, Professor McGonagall rose to her feet, pointed her wand at the groggy Death Eater, and said, “Imperio.”
Amycus got up, walked over to his sister, picked up her wand, then shuffled obediently to Professor McGonagall and handed it over along with his own. Then he lay down on the floor beside Alecto. Professor McGonagall waved her wand again, and a length of shimmering silver rope appeared out of thin air and snaked around the Carrows, binding them tightly together.
“Potter,” said Professor McGonagall, turning to face him again with superb indifference to the Carrows’ predicament. “if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named does indeed know that you are here–”
As she said it, a wrath that was like physical pain blazed through Harry, setting his scar on fire, and for a second he looked down upon a basin whose potion had turned clear, and saw that no golden locket lay safe beneath the surface–.
“Potter, are you all right.” said a voice, and Harry came back. He was clutching Luna’s shoulder to steady himself.
“Time’s running out, Voldemort’s getting nearer, Professor, I’m acting on Dumbledore’s orders, I must find what he wanted me to find! But we’ve got to get the students out while I’m searching the castle – It’s me Voldemort wants, but he won’t care about killing a few more or less, not now–“ not now he knows I’m attacking Horcruxes, Harry finished the sentence in his head.
“You’re acting on Dumbledore’s orders?” she repeated with a look of dawning wonder. Then she drew herself up to her fullest height.
“We shall secure the school against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named while you search for this – this object.”
“Is that possible?”
“I think so,” said Professor McGonagall dryly, “we teachers are rather good at magic, you know. I am sure we will be able to hold him off for a while if we all put our best efforts into it. Of course, something will have to be done about Professor Snape–”
“Let me –”
“–and if Hogwarts is about to enter a state of siege, with the Dark Lord at the gates, it would indeed be advisable to take as many innocent people out of the way as possible. With the Floo Network under observation, and Apparition impossible within the grounds–“
“There’s a way,” said Harry quickly, and he explained about the passageway leading into the Hog’s Head.
“Potter, we’re talking about hundreds of students–”
“I know, Professor, but if Voldemort and the Death Eaters are concentrating on the school boundaries they won’t be interested in anyone who’s Disapparating out of Hog’s Head.”
“There’s something in that,“ she agreed. She pointed her wand at the Carrows, and a silver net fell upon their bound bodies, tied itself around them, and hoisted them into the air, where they dangled beneath the blue-and-gold ceiling like two large, ugly sea creatures. ”Come. We must alert the other Heads of House. You’d better put that Cloak back on.“
She marched toward the door, and as she did so she raised her wand. From the tip burst three silver cats with spectacle markings around their eyes. the Patronuses ran sleekly ahead, filling the spiral staircase with silvery light, as Professor McGonagall, Harry, and Luna hurried back down.
Along the corridors they raced, and one by one the Patronuses left them. Professor McGonagall’s tartan dressing gown rustled over the floor, and Harry and Luna jogged behind her under the Cloak.
They had descended two more floors when another set of quiet joined theirs. Harry, whose scar was still prickling, heard them first. He felt in the pouch around his neck for the Marauder’s Map, but before he could take it our, McGonagall too seemed to become aware of their company. She halted, raised her wand ready to duel, and said, “Who’s there?”
“It is I,” said a low voice.
From behind a suit of armor stepped Severus Snape.
Hatred boiled up in Harry at the sight of him. He had forgotten the details of Snape’s appearance in the magnitude of his crimes, forgotten how his greasy black hair hung in curtains around his thin face, how his black eyes had a dead, cold look. He was not wearing nightclothes, but was dressed in his usual black cloak, and he too was holding his wand ready for a fight.
“Where are the Carrows?” he asked quietly.
“Wherever you told them to be, I expect, Severus,” said Professor McGonagall.
Snape stepped nearer, and his eyes flitted over Professor McGonagall into the air around her, as if he knew that Harry was there. Harry held his wand up too, ready to attack.
“I was under the impression,“ said Snape, ”That Alecto had apprehended an intruder.“
“Really?” said Professor McGonagall. “And what gave you that impression?”
Snape mad a slight flexing movement of his left arm, where the Dark Mark was branded into his skin.
“Oh, but naturally,” said Professor McGonagall. “You Death Eaters have your own private means of communication, I forgot.”
Snape pretended not to have heard her. His eyes were still probing the air all about her, and he was moving gradually closer, with an air of hardly noticing what he was doing.
“I did not know that it was your night to patrol the corridors Minerva.“
“You have some objection?”
“I wonder what could have brought you out of our bed at this late hour?”
“I thought I heard a disturbance,” said Professor McGonagall.
“Really? But all seems calm.”
Snape looked into her eyes.
“Have you seen Harry Potter, Minerva? Because if you have. I must insist–”
Professor McGonagall moved faster than Harry could have believed. Her wand slashed through the air and for a split second Harry thought that Snape must crumple, unconscious, but the swiftness of his Shield Charm was such that McGonagall was thrown off balance. She brandished her wand at a touch on the wall and it flew out of its bracket. Harry, about to curse Snape, was forced to pull Luna out of the way of the descending flames, which became a ring of fire that filled the corridor and flew like a lasso at Snape– Then it was no longer fire, but a great black serpent that McGonagall blasted to smoke, which re-formed and solidified in seconds to become a swarm of pursuing daggers. Snape avoided them only by forcing the suit of armor in front of him, and with echoing clangs the daggers sank, one after another, into its breast–
“Minerva!” said a squeaky voice, and looking behind him, still shielding Luna from flying spells, Harry saw Professors Flitwick and Sprout sprinting up the corridor toward them in their nightclothes, with the enormous Professor Slughorn panting along at the rear.
“No!” squealed Flitwick, raising his wand. “You’ll do no more murder at Hogwarts!”
Flitwick’s spell hit the suit of armor behind which Snape had taken shelter. With a clatter it came to life. Snape struggled free of the crushing arms and sent it flying back toward his attackers. Harry and Luna had to dive sideways to avoid it as it smashed into the wall and shattered. When Harry looked up again, Snape was in full flight, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout all thundering after him. He hurtled through a classroom door and, moments later, he heard McGonagall cry, “Coward! COWARD!”
“What’s happened, what’s happened?” asked Luna.
Harry dragged her to her feet and they raced along the corridor, trailing the Invisibility Cloak behind them, into the deserted classroom where Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout were standing at a smashed window.
“He jumped,” said Professor McGonagall as Harry and Luna ran into the room.
“You mean he’s dead?“ Harry sprinted to the window, ignoring Flitwick’s and Sprout’s yells of shock at his sudden appearance.
“No, he’s not dead,“ said McGonagall bitterly. ”Unlike Dumbledore, he was still carrying a wand… and he seems to have learned a few tricks from his master.“
With a tingle of horror, Harry saw in the distance a huge, bat like shape flying through the darkness toward the perimeter wall.
There were heavy footfalls behind them, and a great deal of puffing. Slughorn had just caught up.
“Harry!“ he panted, massaging his immense chest beneath his emerald-green silk pajamas. “My dear boy… what a surprise…Minerva, do please explain…Severus…what…?”
“Our headmaster is taking a short break,“ said Professor McGonagall, pointing at the Snape-shaped hole in the window.
“Professor!” Harry shouted his hand on his forehead, He could see the Inferi-filled lake sliding beneath him, and he felt a ghostly green boat bump into the underground shore, and Voldemort lept from it with murder in his heart–
“Professor, we’ve got to barricade the school, he’s coming now!“
“Very well. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is coming,” she told the other teachers. Sprout and Flitwick gasped. Slughorn let out a low groan. “Potter has work to do in the castle on Dumbledore’s orders. We need to put in place every protection of which we are capable while Potter does what he needs to do.”
“You realize , of course, that nothing we do will be able to keep out You-Know-Who indefinitely?” squeaked Flitwick.
“But we can hold him up.” said Professor Sprout.
“Thank you, Pomona,” said Professor McGonagall, and between the two witches there passed a look of grim understanding.
“I suggest we establish basic protection around the place, then gather our students and meet in the Great Hall. Most must be evacuated, though if any of those who are over age wish to stay and fight, I think they ought to be given the chance.“
“Agreed,” said Professor Sprout, already hurrying toward the door. “I shall meet you in the Great Hall in twenty minutes with my House.”
And as she jogged out of sight, they could hear her muttering, “Tentacula, Devil’s Snare. And Snargaluff pods…yes, I’d like to see the Death Eaters fighting those.”
“I can act from here,” said Flitwick, and although he could barely see out of it, he pointed his wand through the smashed window and started muttering incantations of great complexity. Harry heard a weird rushing noise, as though Flitwick had unleashed the power of the wind into the grounds.
“Professor,” Harry said, approaching the little Charms master. “Professor, I’m sorry to interrupt, but this is important. Have you got any idea where the diadem of Ravenclaw is?”
“–Protego Horribillis – the diadem of Ravenclaw?“ squeaked Flitwick. ”A little extra wisdom never goes amiss, Potter, but I hardly think it would be much use in this situation!“
“I only meant – do you know where it is? Have you ever seen it?”
“Seen it! Nobody has seen it in living memory! Long since lost, boy.”
Harry felt a mixture of desperate disappointment and panic. What, then, was the Horcrux?
“We shall meet you and your Ravenclaws in the Great Hall, Filius!“ said Professor McGonagall, beckoning to Harry and Luna to follow her.
They had just reached the door when Slughorn rumbled into speech.
“My word,“ he puffed, pale and sweaty, his walrus mustache aquiver. ”What a to-do! I’m not at all sure whether this is wise, Minerva. He is bound to find a way in, you know, and anyone who has tried to delay him will be in the most grievous peril–“
“I shall expect you and the Slytherins in the Great Hall in twenty minutes also.” said Professor McGonagall. “If you wish to leave with your students, we shall not stop you. But if any of you attempt to sabotage our resistance or take up arms against us within this castle, then, Horace, we duel to kill.”
“Minerva!” he said, aghast.
“The time has come for Slytherin House to decide upon its loyalties,“ interrupted Professor McGonagall. ”Go and wake your students, Horace.“
Harry did not stay to watch Slughorn splutter. He and Luna stayed after Professor McGonagall, who had taken up a position in the middle of the corridor and raised her wand.
“Piertotum–oh, for heaven’s sake, Filch, not now–“
The aged caretaker had just come hobbling into view, shouting “Students out of bed! Students in the corridors!”
“They’re supposed to be you blithering idiot!“ shouted McGonagall. ”Now go and do something constructive! Find Peeves!“
“P-Peeves?” stammered Filch as though he had never heard the name before.
“Yes, Peeves, you fool, Peeves! Haven’t you been complaining about him for a quarter of a century? Go and fetch him, at once.“
Filch evidently thought Professor McGonagall had taken leave of her senses, but hobbled away, hunch-shouldered, muttering under his breath.
“And now – Piertotum Locomator!“ cried Professor McGonagall. And all along the corridor the statues and suits of armor jumped down from their plinths, and from the echoing crashes from the floors above and below, Harry knew that their fellows throughout the castle had done the same.
“Hogwarts is threatened!” shouted Professor McGonagall. “Man the boundaries, protect us, do your duty to our school!”
Clattering and yelling, the horde of moving statues stampeded past Harry, some of them smaller, others larger than life. There were animals too, and the clanking suits of armor brandished swords and spiked balls on chains.
“Now, Potter,” said McGonagall. “you and Miss Lovegood had better return to your friends and bring them to the Great Hall – I shall rouse the other Gryffindors.”
They parted at the top of the next staircase, Harry and Luna turning back toward the concealed entrance to the Room of Requirement. As they ran, they met crowds of students, most wearing traveling cloaks over their pajamas, being shepherded down to the Great Hall by teachers and prefects.
“That was Potter!”
“Harry Potter!“
“It was him, I swear, I just saw him!”
But Harry did not look back, and at last they reached the entrance to the Room of Requirement, Harry leaned against the enchanted wall, which opened to admit them, and he and Luna sped back down the steep staircase.
“Wh–?”
As the room came into view, Harry slipped down a few stairs in shock. It was packed, far more crowded than when he had last been in there. Kingsley and Lupin were looking up at him, as were Oliver Wood, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, Bill and Fleur, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.
“Harry, what’s happening?” said Lupin, meeting him at the foot of the stairs.
“Voldemort’s on his way, they’re barricading he school – Snape’s run for it – What are you doing here? How did you know?”
“We sent messages to the rest of Dumbledore’s Army,“ Fred explained. ”You couldn’t expect everyone to miss the fun, Harry, and the D.A. let the Order of the Phoenix know, and it all kind of snowballed.“
“What first, Harry?” called George. “What’s going on?”
“They’re evacuating the younger kids and everyone’s meeting in the Great Hall to get organized,” Harry said. “We’re fighting.”
There was a great roar and a surge toward the stairs, he was pressed back against he wall as they ran past hi, the mingled members of the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore’s Army, and Harry’s old Quidditch team, all with their wands drawn, heading up into the main castle.
“Come on, Luna,” Dean called as he passed, holding out his free hand, she took it and followed him back up the stairs.
The crowd was thinning. Only a little knot of people remained below in the Room of Requirement, and Harry joined them. Mrs. Weasley was struggling with Ginny. Around them stood Lupin, Fred, George, Bill and Fleur.
“You’re underage!” Mrs. Weasley shouted at her daughter as Harry approached “I won’t permit it! The boys, yes, but you, you’ve got to go home!”
“I won’t!”
Ginny’s hair flew as she pulled her arm out of her mother’s grip.
“I’m in Dumbledore’s Army–”
“A teenagers’ gang!”
“A teenagers’ gang that’s about to take him on, which no one else has dared to do!” said Fred.
“She’s sixteen!” shouted Mrs. Weasley. “She’s not old enough! What you two were thinking bringing her with you – – ”
Fred and George looked slightly ashamed of themselves.
“Mom’s right, Ginny,“ said Bill gently. ”You can’t do this. Everyone underage will have to leave, it’s only right.“
“I can’t go home!” Ginny shouted, angry tears sparkling in her eyes. “my whole family’s here, I can’t stand waiting there alone and not knowing and –”
Her eyes met Harry’s for the first time. She looked at him beseechingly, but he shook his head and she turned away bitterly.
“Fine,” she said, staring at the entrance to the tunnel back to the Hog’s Head. “I’ll say good-by now, then, and–”
There was a scuffling and a great thump. Someone else had clambered out of the tunnel, overbalanced slightly, and fallen. He pulled himself up no the nearest chair, looked around through lopsided horn-rimmed glasses, and said, “Am I too late? Has it started. I only just found out, so I – I –”
Percy spluttered into silence. Evidently he had not expected to run into most of his family. There was a long moment of astonishment, broken by Fleur turning to Lupin and saying, in a wildly transparent attempt to break the tension. “So– ‘ow eez leetle Teddy?”
Lupin blinked at her, startled. The silence between the Weasleys seemed to be solidifying, like ice.
“I – oh yes – he’s fine!” Lupin said loudly. “yes, Tonks is with him – at her mother’s –”
Percy and the other Weasleys were still staring at one another, frozen.
“Here, I’ve got a picture?” Lupin shouted, pulling a photograph from inside his jacket and showing it to Fleur and Harry, who saw a tiny baby with a tuft of bright turquoise hair, waving fat fists at the camera.
“I was a fool!” Percy roared, so loudly that Lupin nearly dropped his photograph. “I was an idiot, I was a pompous prat, I was a – a –”
“Ministry-loving, family-disowning, power-hungry moron,” said Fred.
Percy swallowed.
“Yes, I was!”
“Well, you can’t say fairer than that,” said Fred, holding his hand out to Percy.
Mrs. Weasley burst into tears. She ran forward, pushed Fred aside, and pulled Percy into a strangling hug, while he patted her on the back, his eyes on his father.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Percy said.
Mr. Weasley blinked rather rapidly, then he too hurried to hug his son.
“What made you see sense, Perce?” inquired George.
“It’s been coming on for a while,“ said Percy, mopping his eyes under his glasses with a corner of his traveling cloak. ”But I had to find a way out and it’s not so easy at the Ministry, they’re imprisoning traitors all the time. I managed to make contact with Aberforth and he tipped me off ten minutes ago that Hogwarts was going to make a fight of it, so here I am.“
“Well, we do look to our prefects to take a lead at times such as these,” said George in a good imitation of Percy’s most pompous manner. “Now let’s get upstairs and fight, or all the good Death Eaters’ll be taken.”
“So, you’re my sister in-law now?” Said Percy, shaking hands with Fleur as they hurried off toward the staircase with Bill, Fred, and George.
“Ginny!” barked Mrs. Weasley.
Ginny had been attempting, under cover of the reconciliations to sneak upstairs too.
“Molly, how about this,” said Lupin. “Why doesn’t Ginny stay here , then at least she’ll be on the scene and know what’s going on, but she won’t be in the middle of the fighting?”
“I–”
“That’s a good idea,” said Mr. Weasley firmly, “Ginny, you stay in this room, you hear me?”
Ginny did not seem to like the idea much, but under her father’s unusually stern gaze, she nodded. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Lupin headed off to the stairs as well.
“Where’s Ron?” asked Harry, “Where’s Hermione?”
“They must have gone up the Great Hall already,” Mr. Weasley called over his shoulder.
“ I didn’t see them pass me,” said Harry.
“They said something about a bathroom,” said Ginny, “not long after you left.”
“A bathroom?”
Harry strode across the room to an open door leading off the Room of Requirement and checked the bathroom beyond. It was empty.
“You’re sure they said bath–?”
But then his scar seared and the Room of Req1uirement vanished. He was looking through the high wrought-iron gates with winged boats on pillars at either side, looking through the dark grounds toward the castle, which was ablaze with lights. Nagini lay draped over his shoulders. He was possessed of that cold, cruel sense of purpose that preceded murder.
在她的手指触碰到黑魔标志的那一瞬间，哈利的伤疤像被火烧着了一样剧烈的疼痛起来，布满星星的房间从眼前消失了，他正站在悬崖下一块露出海面的岩石上，海浪在他周围拍打着，在他心中有一种狂喜的感觉——他们抓到了那个男孩。
　　?！一声巨响将哈利拉回到拉文克劳公共休息室。他已经失去了方向感，只是胡乱地举起了魔杖，但是在他面前的巫师已经朝前倒下；她重重地撞向地板，以致书架上的玻璃器皿都发出叮叮当当的脆响。
　　“我除了在D·A课上的练习，从来就没击倒过任何人，”卢娜有点兴奋，“动静比我想象中的还要大。”
　　很明显，天花板开始急剧的震动起来，从门后到宿舍急匆匆的脚步回响声越来越大。卢娜的咒语惊醒了睡在上面的拉文克劳学院的学生。
　　“卢娜，你在哪？我得躲在隐身衣下！”
　　卢娜的脚一下出现在了跟前，哈利急忙到她的身边，她用隐身衣重新盖住他们，与此同时，休息室的门开了。一群穿着睡衣的拉文克劳学生涌进公共休息室。当他们看到阿勒克图没有知觉的躺在那时，人群里发出一阵吸气声和几声惊呼。他们慢慢地拖着脚步将她围了起来，好像她是一只随时会醒来攻击他们的残暴野兽。然后一个勇敢的一年级学生冲向她，并用他的大脚指戳了戳她的背。
　　“我想她可能死了！”他欣喜的叫道。
　　“噢！你看，”卢娜开心地低声说，拉文克劳的学生们在阿勒克图周围围了上来。 “他们很高兴！”
　　“是的……太棒了……”
　　哈利闭上了眼睛，他的伤疤抽痛起来，迫使他再次沉入伏地魔的思想……他正在沿着通向第一个洞穴的隧道里移动着……他选择在来之前先确定保护魂器的机关是否安全……但是这不会占用他太长的时间。
　　公共休息室的门上响起一阵扣门声，所有拉文克劳的学生都呆住了。从门的那一边，哈利听到一个温柔而悦耳的声音从鹰型的门环里传出，“消失了的东西会上哪儿去？”
　　“我怎么知道？闭嘴！”一个粗俗的声音咆哮道，哈利知道那是卡罗兄妹的另一个，阿米科斯，“阿勒克图？阿勒克图？你在那儿吗？捉到他没？快开门！”
　　拉文克劳的同学们惊恐地小声交谈着。然后没有任何的预兆地，一阵震耳欲聋的巨响，就好像有人正拿着熗向门里开火一样。
　　“阿勒克图！如果他来了，而我们还没捉到波特——难道你想和马尔福落得一样的下场吗？快回答我！”阿米科斯吼叫着，用尽全身的力气摇晃着门，但是它依然没有开。拉文克劳的人渐渐向后退，其中一些胆小的开始跑上楼梯，回到他们的床上。正当哈利考虑着是不是应该在食死徒造成什么更大的举动之前把门炸开然后击昏阿米科斯的时候，一个最熟悉的声音从门外很远的地方传来。
　　“能问一下你正在干什么吗，卡罗教授？”
　　“正试图——通——过这该死的——门！”阿米科斯吼道，“把弗利维叫来！让他来开门，现在就去！”
　　“但是你妹妹不是在里面吗？”麦格教授问。“在你的急切要求下，弗利维教授不是让你的妹妹在今天晚上早些时候进去了吗？也许她能为你打开门？那你就不需要惊醒半座城堡的人了。”
　　“她没回答，你这只老扫把！你来打开它！快点!现在就干！”
　　“当然，如果你想这样，”麦格教授用一种可怕的冷酷声调说。
　　麦格教授优雅地敲了敲门，那个悦耳的声音再次问话了：
　　“消失了的东西会上哪儿去？”
　　“土崩瓦解，无处可寻，世间万物，无一例外。”麦格教授回答道。
　　“句子真漂亮，”鹰形门环回应说，门也跟着旋转开来。
　　当阿米科斯挥舞着魔杖冲进休息室的时候，少数留在房间的拉文克劳学生，急忙向楼梯跑去。他像他妹妹一样驼背，长着一张暗淡苍白的脸和一双极小的眼睛，他立刻扑倒在了四肢摊开在地板上动也不动的阿勒克图身上，发出一声狂怒而惊恐的叫喊。
　　“他们对你做了什么，那些小兔崽子们？”他大喊。“我会用钻心咒对付他们！直到他们告诉我是谁干的----黑魔王会说什么？”他尖声叫着，站在他妹妹的旁边，用拳头捶锤打着自己的额头，“我们没有捉到他，他们还杀了她逃走了!”
　　“她只是被击晕了，”麦格教授弯下腰，检查了阿勒克图后，不耐烦地说道，“她会好起来的。”
　　“她不会的！”阿米科斯咆哮道，“黑魔王饶不了她！她已经召唤了他，我曾感觉我的黑魔标志在灼烧，他以为我们捉到了波特！”
　　“捉到波特？”麦格教授尖锐地说道，“你说‘捉到波特’是什么意思？”
　　“黑魔王说波特可能会试图进入拉文克劳的塔楼，如果我们捉住了波特就召唤他！”
　　“为什么哈利波特会试图进入拉文克劳的塔楼！波特属于我的学院！”
　　除了怀疑和愤怒，哈利还从她的声音里听出了一点自豪，他对米勒娃麦格教授的感激一下涌上了心头。
　　“我们被告知他可能进来这里！”卡罗说，“我怎么知道他为什么会来？”
　　麦格教授站了起来，目光锐利地扫视着房间——两次扫过哈利和卢娜站着的地方。
　　“我们可以把责任推给这些小兔崽子，”阿米科斯说，他那猪一样的脸突然变得狡诈起来。“对，就是这样。我们会说阿勒克图是被学生们伏击了，那些在楼上的学生”--他抬头看向布满星星的天花板上面的寝室--“我们会说他们强迫她按下黑魔标记，所以他才收到了假警报……他可以惩罚他们——或多或少的一些孩子——多少都无所谓。”
　　“真实和谎言是勇敢和胆小的唯一区别，”麦格教授的脸变得苍白，“简单的说，就是你和你妹妹所不能理解的区别。不过，让我把一点讲清楚。你不能把你的许多失职推卸到霍格沃茨的学生的身上。我不会允许。”
　　“你说什么？”
　　阿米科斯向前移动了几步，令人讨厌地走到麦格教授身边，他的脸离她只有几英寸。她没有退缩，反而俯视着他，就像看着黏在马桶座上的一些恶心的东西一样。
　　“这可由不得你，米勒娃·麦格。你的时代已经结束了，现在我们掌管这里，你要么服从我，要么就得付出代价。”
　　阿米科斯一巴掌打在她的脸上。
　　哈利一把从身上扯下隐身衣，举起魔杖道，“你会后悔那么做的！”
　　阿米科斯转过身来，哈利大叫一声，“钻心剜骨！”
　　这个食死徒被抬离了地面。他像一个溺水者一样在空中不断翻腾、挣扎，发出痛苦的嚎叫，然后，随着嘎扎声和玻璃的破碎的声音，他撞上了书架，身体卷曲着，毫无知觉地倒在了地上。
　　“我明白贝拉的意思了，”哈利说，血液潮水般往大脑里涌来，“你得真的想干掉对方。”
　　“波特！”麦格教授捉住她的胸口低声说，“波特——你在这！你想做——？你是怎么——？”她努力使自己平静下来。 “波特，刚才那样非常卤莽！”
　　“但他扇了你一巴掌，”哈利说。
　　“波特，我——你那样非常——英勇——但是你没意识到——？”
　　“不，我意识到了，”哈利让她放心。不知何故，她的惊慌反而让哈利稳定了心情，“麦格教授，伏地魔正在来的路上。”
　　“噢！我们现在被允许说这个名字了？”卢娜扯掉了隐身衣兴奋的说。又一个“逃犯”的出现似乎击垮了麦格教授，她摇摇晃晃的退了几步跌进附近的一把椅子里，抓着她旧格子晨衣的颈部。
　　“我认为我们如何称呼他并没有什么区别。”哈利告诉卢娜，“他已经知道了我在哪儿。”
　　在哈利的大脑深处，一个连接着极度的愤怒与灼痛的伤疤地方。他可以看见伏地魔正在一艘幽灵丝的绿色小船里快速穿行在黑色的湖面上，他就快要接近石盆所在的小岛了。
　　“你必须逃跑。”麦格教授轻声说，“现在就走，波特，越快越好。”
　　“我不能，”哈利说，“我还有些事情要做。教授。你知道拉文克劳的金冕在哪吗？”
　　“拉文克劳的金-金冕？当然不知道，——它不是丢失了几个世纪了吗？”她稍稍坐直了身子，“波特，你现在回来是疯狂的——极度疯狂的行为”
　　“但我必须这么做，”哈利说，“教授，有些东西藏在城堡里，我得把它找出来，那可能就是金冕——如果我能和弗利维教授谈谈——”
　　玻璃叮叮当当地响起来了，有什么东西在动。阿米科斯正醒过来。哈利和卢娜还没来得及举起魔杖，麦格教授就站了起来，用魔杖指着摇摇晃晃的食死徒说道，“魂魄出窍。”
　　阿米科斯站起来，走向他的妹妹，拾起她的魔杖，又拖着脚步顺从的走向麦格教授，把自己的魔杖和妹妹的一起交给她。随后，他在阿勒克图旁边的地板上躺下。麦格教授再次挥舞魔杖，一股闪着微光的银绳从稀薄的空气中出现，并象蛇一样盘绕着卡罗兄妹，将他们紧紧的绑了起来。
　　“波特，”麦格教授重新把脸转向哈利，对卡罗兄妹所处的困境无动于衷，“如果那个不能被提到名字的人确实知道你在这——”
　　正当她说着的时候，一股愤怒就象真实的疼痛一般贯穿了哈利，让他的伤疤如同火烧一般。有那么一会儿，他低头看到石盆里的药剂已变得清澈，却没看见稳稳地躺在水面下的金坠盒子——。
　　“波特，你还好吗。” 一个声音说，哈利又清醒过来。他抓着卢娜的肩膀借此来稳住自己。
　　“时间不多了，伏地魔越来越近了，教授，我正在执行邓布利多的命令，我必须找到他让我找到的东西！但是我在城堡里寻找的时候必须让学生们离开——伏地魔想要的是我，而他不会关心会杀掉多少个学生，特别是现在——”特别是现在他知道我正在试图毁掉魂器时。哈利在脑海中说完这句话。
　　“你正在执行邓布利多的命令？”她重复道，看起来相当的惊愕。然后，她努力让自己站直身子。
　　“在你寻找这个-这个东西的时候，我们会保障学校免遭神秘人的毒手。”
　　“那有可能吗？”
　　“我想可以，”麦格教授干巴巴的说，“我们老师对于魔法可是很在行，你知道的。如果我们尽全力，我可以肯定我们能拖住他一会儿。当然，对于斯内普教授我们需要做点什么——”
　　“让我——”
　　“-随着伏地魔进入大门，霍格沃茨就将要陷入包围中，让尽可能多的无辜的人逃走确实是明智的做法。但飞路网被监视了起来，在城堡内也不能用幻影移形——”
　　“有一条路，”哈利快速说，他说明了通向猪头酒吧的秘道。
　　“波特，但是有数以百计的学生——”
　　“我知道，教授，但是如果伏地魔和食死徒把注意力放在守住学校的边界时，他们不会注意到从猪头酒吧消失掉的人的。
　　“有道理，”她同意了。麦格教授将魔杖指向卡罗兄妹俩，一张银色的网落在他们被绑着的身体上，然后拉紧罩住了他们，并将他们升到了空中，他们在蓝金色的天花板下摇摆着，就象两只又大又丑的海怪。“快过来，我们得警告其他学院的院长。你最好把隐身衣穿上。”
　　麦格教授走向门边，举起魔杖。三只银色的猫顿时从魔杖尖端跳了出来，它们的眼睛周围都有着眼镜一样的花纹。守护神跑在前头，让螺旋梯充满了银色的光芒，麦格教授、哈利和卢娜匆忙走下来。
　　他们沿着走廊奔跑着，守护神一个接一个地消失了。麦格教授的格子呢晨衣袍子在地板上发出沙沙的响声，哈利和卢娜在隐身衣下紧跟着她。
　　他们下了两三层楼，突然传来一阵不易察觉的响动。哈利最先听到，他的伤疤仍然刺痛。他将手伸进挂在脖子上的小袋子拿活点地图，但他还没拿得出来，麦格教授似乎也察觉到了他们新同伴的到来。她停住脚步，举起魔杖准备战斗，“谁在那？”
　　“是我，”一个低沉的声音说。
　　西弗勒斯·斯内普从一套盔甲后面走了出来。
　　一看到他，仇恨开始在哈利心中翻滚。他已经忘了在斯内普犯下的罪行中他的样貌的细节，忘了他那油腻腻的头发是如何像窗帘一样遮在他瘦削的脸上，忘记了他黑色的眼睛中带着怎样麻木而冷酷的眼神。他没有穿着睡衣，而是穿着他一贯的黑色长袍，同样他也拿着魔杖准备战斗。
　　“卡罗兄妹在哪？”他平静的问道。
　　“我想他们在你让他们去的地方，西弗勒斯。”麦格教授说。
　　斯内普走近了，他的眼睛掠过麦格教授，看向她周围的空气，就好像他知道哈利在那里一样。哈利也捏紧了他的魔杖，准备攻击。
　　“我有一种感觉，”斯内普说，“阿勒克图发现了一个入侵者。”
　　“真的？”麦格教授说。“你那种感觉从哪里来的？”
　　斯内普轻轻地挠了挠他的左臂，烙着黑魔标志的地方。
　　“哦，那是理所当然，”麦格教授说，“我忘了你们食死徒有你们自己的通讯手段。”
　　斯内普假装没有听她讲话，他的眼睛依然在麦格教授身边的空气里搜索，他靠得更近了，让人不知道他到底想做什么。
　　“我不知道今天晚上是你负责巡视走廊，米勒娃。”
　　“你有异议吗？”
　　“我只是想知道为什么这么晚了你要下床到这里来。”
　　“我认为有一场骚乱，”麦格教授说。
　　“是吗？但是一切都看起来很平静。”
　　斯内普看向她的眼睛。
　　“你见过哈利波特了，米勒娃？因为如果你见过他了。我必须强调——”
　　麦格教授以哈利难以相信的速度动起来。她的魔杖划过空气，有一瞬间哈利认为斯内普一定已经没有知觉地倒下了。但是斯内普迅速念出的防护咒却让麦格教授失去了平衡。她挥舞着的魔杖碰到了墙壁，并从托架上飞了出来。哈利正准备对斯内普念咒，却被迫将卢娜拉离了那道逐渐消失的火焰，它变成了一个火环照亮了走廊，然后像一个套索飞向斯内普——
　　然后火焰消失了，只有一条被麦格教授炸成烟的黑色大毒蛇，这些烟雾重新成型，片刻凝固成了一群飞刀。斯内普只能将那套盔甲挡在身前来躲避飞刀，随着叮叮当当的回声，它们一个接一个地刺入了盔甲的胸部。
　　“米勒娃！”一个尖细的声音说，哈利一边看向他后面，一边保护着卢娜躲避飞来的咒语，他看见弗利维教授和斯普劳特教授穿着睡衣穿过走廊跑向他们，身躯庞大的斯拉霍恩教授气喘吁吁的尾随其后。
　　“不！”弗利维教授长声尖叫，举起他的魔杖。“你不能再在霍格沃茨杀人！”
　　弗利维教授的咒语撞在斯内普用于掩蔽的那套盔甲上。随着咔嚓一声，它活了过来。斯内普挣扎着摆脱那些可以碾碎人的手臂并让它飞向攻击他的人。当它砸到墙上散成碎片时，哈利和卢娜不得不蹲到一旁来躲避它。当哈利再次抬起头的时候，斯内普正在飞行，麦格教授、弗利维教授和斯普劳特教授都在他身后紧跟着他。他急急地飞过一扇教室门，片刻之后，他听到麦格教授喊道“胆小鬼！胆小鬼！”
　　“怎么了？怎么了？”卢娜问。
　　哈利把她扶了起来，他们沿着走廊跑进了那个废弃的教室，隐型斗蓬都被他们甩在了身后。麦格教授、弗利维教授、斯普劳特教授正站在一面破碎的窗户前。
　　“他跳了下去，”当哈利和卢娜跑进教室的时候，麦格教授说道。
　　“你是说他已经死了？”哈利跑向窗户，并没有理睬弗利维教授和斯普劳特教授因为他的突然出现而发出的惊呼。
　　“不，他没死。”麦格教授悲痛地说。“不像邓布利多，他仍然拿着魔杖……而且他好像从他的主子那学会了一点花招。”
　　带着因恐怖而起麻刺感，他看到远方有一个巨大的、蝙蝠形的东西穿过黑暗飞向城堡的围墙。
　　他们身后传来沉重的脚步声和大声的喘气声。斯拉格霍恩刚刚赶到。
　　“哈利！”他喘着气，揉着他那鲜绿色丝质睡衣下巨大的胸脯，“我亲爱的孩子……真是一个惊喜……米勒娃，可以解释一下么……西弗勒斯……到底怎么回事？”
　　“我们的校长想暂时休息一下。”麦格教授边说，边指着窗户上一个斯内普形状的洞。
　　“教授！”
　　哈利手放在额头上喊道，他可以看见那片堆满阴尸的湖被他飞快地他抛在身后，感觉到一只幽灵似的绿色小船撞上了地下湖的岸边，伏地魔带着想杀人的暴怒离开了船——
　　“教授，我们需要在学校里布置障碍，他快来了！”
　　“很好。神秘人来了，”她告诉其他老师。弗利维教授和斯普劳特教授吸了口气。斯拉霍恩则发出低低的呻吟。“按照邓布利多的指示，波特在城堡里有事情需要做。当波特在做他需要做的事情的时候，我们要尽我们所能安置所有的保护措施。”
　　“当然，但是你应该知道无论我们做什么也不可能挡得住神秘人！”弗利维教授尖叫道。
　　“但是我们可以拖延他的时间。”斯普劳特教授说。
　　“谢谢你，波莫纳，”麦格教授说，她们互相交换了一个会意的眼神，“我建议在学校外围建立最基本的防护，然后将我们的学生集中起来，在礼堂碰面。绝大多数学生都必须撤离，可是如果有些成年的想留下来战斗的，我想应该给他们机会。”
　　“我同意，”斯普劳特教授说着已经冲到了门口，“我会带着我们学院的学生在二十分钟后在礼堂和你碰面。”
　　当斯普劳特教授跑着消失在大家的视野中，他们可以听到她咕哝着，“触须， 魔鬼网和巴波块茎……是的，我倒要看看这些食死徒怎么对付它们。”
　　“我就从这儿开始好了。”弗利维教授说，虽然他几乎看不到窗外，他举起魔杖穿过穿过破碎的窗户，开始咕哝着相当复杂的咒语。哈利听到一阵奇怪的唰唰声，就好像弗利维教授在地面上制造了一场飓风。
　　“教授，”哈利说，靠近这个矮小的魔咒课教授。“教授，很抱歉打扰您，但是这很重要。您知不知道拉文克劳的金冕在哪？”
　　“——防御保护——拉文克劳的金冕？”弗利维教授尖声说，“了解一点点课外的知识是不会有错的，波特，但是我实在不知道在现在这种情况下那有什么用!”
　　“我只是说——您知道它在哪吗？您曾见过它吗？”
　　“见过它？现在活着的人没人见过它！遗失很久了，孩子。”
　　哈利感到既绝望又失望又惊慌。那么，它是魂器吗？
　　“我们会在大礼堂等你和你拉文克劳的学生，弗利维!” 麦格教授说， 向哈利和卢娜招手示意他们过来跟着她。
　　当他们刚到门口时，斯拉格霍恩突然低声说道。
　　“我说，”他的脸变得极度苍白，汗津津的，海象般的胡须颤抖着。“这种做法！我根本不确定这是否明智，米勒娃。他一定会找到方法进来，你知道，任何企图耽搁他的人都会陷入极度危险中——”
　　“我也希望你和斯莱特林的学生在二十分钟后来到大礼堂。”麦格教授说，“如果你想带着你的学生离开，我们不会阻止你。但是如果你们中的任何一个在这所城堡里妨碍我们的抵抗行动，或是对我们拔剑相向的话，那么霍拉斯，我们会斗争到底。”
　　“米勒娃！”他吓呆了。
　　“现在是让斯莱特林学院决定对谁效忠的时候了，”麦格教授打断他，“去叫醒你的学生，霍拉斯。”
　　哈利没有留下继续听斯拉格霍恩絮絮叨叨。他和卢娜紧跟着麦格教授，她站在走廊中间的位置举起了她的魔杖。
　　“灵魂——噢，看在上帝的份上，费尔奇，不是现在——”
　　那个上了年纪的看守员刚蹒跚着进入视线内，就大叫道，“学生们都下了床！他们都在走廊上！”
　　“他们都当你是满腹牢骚的白痴！”麦格教授喊道。“现在去做一些有建设性的事！找到皮皮鬼！”
　　“皮——皮皮鬼？”费尔奇结结巴巴地，好像他以前从没听到过这个名字。
　　“是的，皮皮鬼，你这个傻瓜，皮皮鬼！你不是已经抱怨他二十五年了吗？把他带来，马上。”
　　费尔奇显然认为麦格教授失去了判断力，但是仍然蹒跚着离开，驼着背，小声的咕哝着。
　　“现在——灵魂复生!”
　　麦格教授大喊。沿着走廊的所有雕像和盔甲都从他们的底座上跳了下来，从楼上和楼下传来的撞击的回声看来，哈利知道它们分布在城堡每个角落里的同伴们也都做了同样的事。
　　“霍格沃茨正在受到威胁！”麦格教授大喊。“在学校外围就位，保护我们，为我们的学校尽你们的责任吧！”
　　伴随着咔嚓声和叫喊声，一群移动的雕像——包括一些动物雕像——从哈利身边匆忙的跑过，有些很小，有些则比人还大，周身叮当作响的盔甲们挥舞着剑和用链条串起来的锥形球。
　　“现在，波特。”麦格教授说，“你和洛夫古德小姐最好到你们的朋友那儿把他们带到礼堂里——我去叫醒其他格兰芬多的学生。”
　　他们在下一个楼梯的顶端分开了，哈利和卢娜转向了去有求必应屋的隐蔽入口方向。他们在奔跑时遇到了一群学生，其中大多数都在睡衣外面套着旅行斗篷，正被老师和级长带去礼堂。
　　“那是波特！”
　　“哈利。波特！”
　　“就是他，我发誓，我刚看见了他！”
　　但是哈利并没有回头，最后他们到达了有求必应屋的入口，哈利靠在施过魔法的墙上，墙壁打开来让他们进去，他和卢娜快速地走下陡峭的楼梯。
　　“什——？”
　　当房间映入眼帘的时候，哈利因为震惊在楼梯上绊了一跤。这里被塞得满满的，比他最后一次来这里时更加拥挤。金斯莱和卢平抬头看向他，还有奥利弗·伍德、凯蒂·贝尔、安吉利娜·约翰逊、艾利西娅·斯平内特，比尔和芙蓉，韦斯莱先生和太太。
　　“哈利，发生什么事了？”卢平走到楼梯底脚，站在哈利面前。
　　“伏地魔正在过来，他们在设置障碍阻碍他进学校——斯内普为这个逃了——你们在这做什么？你们怎么知道？”
　　“我们给其余的D·A成员发了消息，”弗雷德解释说，“你不会觉得有谁想错过这个有趣的事情吧，哈利。然后D·A又让凤凰社的成员知道，这事儿就像滚雪球越滚越大了。”
　　“我们接下来做什么，哈利？”乔治问，“现在情况怎么样？”
　　“他们正在疏散低年级的孩子，大家都在礼堂集合以方便组织，”哈利说，“我们正在准备战斗。”
　　大家发出一声怒吼，涌向楼梯，当他们从哈利身边跑过时他又被挤到了墙上，有凤凰社的成员，D·A成员还有哈利的老魁地奇球队的队员，他们全都拔出了魔杖，昂首跨入城堡。
　　“快点，卢娜!”迪安在经过时喊道，并且向她伸出另一只手，她抓住它跟在迪安后面上了楼梯。
　　人群慢慢减少了。只有一撮人还在有求必应屋下面，哈利走了过去。韦斯莱夫人正在和金妮争论，卢平、弗雷德、乔治、比尔和芙蓉都围在她们身边。
　　“你还没有成年！”当哈利靠近他们时，韦斯莱夫人正对她女儿喊道， “我绝不允许！你的哥哥们可以去，但是你，必须回家！”
　　“我不回去！”
　　金妮从她妈妈紧握的手里抽出胳膊的时，头发飞了起来。
　　“我是D·A的一员——”
　　“一群十几岁的孩子！”
　　“一群十几岁要支持哈利波特的孩子，没有人敢这么做！”弗雷德说。
　　“她只有十六岁！”韦斯莱夫人大喊道。“她还小！你们俩怎么会想把她带上——”
　　弗雷德和乔治有些愧疚的看着对方。
　　“妈妈是对的，金妮。”比尔温柔的说，“你不能去。每个未成年的学生都必须离开，这才是正确的决定。”
　　“我不能回家！”金妮大叫道，愤怒的泪花在她的眼中闪烁。“我所有的亲人都在这儿，我不能呆在家里孤单地等待，什么事情也不知道而且——”
　　她和哈利的眼神交汇了。金妮恳求的望着他，哈利却摇了摇头，她便悲痛地转过头去。
　　“好吧，”她说，凝视着通往猪头酒吧通道的入口。“我现在要说再见了，然后，我会——”
　　突然，随着“砰”的一声的巨响。一个人从通道爬了出来，有些失去平衡，一头栽了下来。他努力站起来，跌进了最近的一把椅子里，透过歪着的牛角框眼镜看着四周，说道：“我太晚了吗？开始了没？我刚找到出口，所以我——我——”
　　珀西慌乱的止住话头。显然他并没想到会碰见这么多家人。大家由于惊讶而一言不发，最后芙蓉向卢平的问话打破了这场沉默，显而易见，她想转移话题以消除这紧张的气氛。“呃——小泰迪还好吗？”
　　卢平惊愕的盯着她。韦斯莱们的沉默看起来正在凝固成冰。
　　“我——啊是的——他很好！”卢平大声说。“是的，唐克斯和他在一起——在她母亲的——”
　　珀西依然和其他的韦斯莱还在对视着，一动也不动。
　　“这里，我有一张照片！”卢平大声说，说着从里面的夹克里掏出一张照片，并展示给芙蓉和哈利看，他们看到一个有一撮青绿色头发的小婴儿，对着相机摇晃着他的小胖拳头。
　　“我是个傻瓜！”珀西吼得非常大声，卢平差点失手掉下照片。“我是个白痴，我是一个华而不实的窝囊废，我是一个……一个……”
　　“一个热爱魔法部，否认家庭，权利欲望过剩的蠢货。”弗雷德说。
　　珀西咽了咽口水。
　　“是的，我是的！”
　　“那好，没有比那样说更公正的了，”弗雷德将他的手伸向珀西。
　　韦斯莱夫人突然大哭起来。她向前跑去，将弗雷德推向一边，把珀西拉入怀中给了他一个快要扼死他的拥抱，他也轻轻的拍着韦斯莱夫人的背，眼睛却望着他的父亲。
　　“我很抱歉，爸爸。”珀西说。
　　韦斯莱先生相当迅速的眨了眨眼睛，然后他也赶紧抱住了他的儿子。
　　“是什么让你认清事实的，珀西？”乔治询问道。
　　“已经有一段时间了，”珀西说，用他旅行斗篷的一角擦着眼镜后面的眼睛。
　　“然而我必须找出一个办法逃出来，这在魔法部可不容易，他们每时每刻都在监禁着。但我还是设法联系到了阿不福思，他十分钟前向我泄露说霍格沃茨将要有一场自卫战，所以我就到这儿来了。”
　　“不错，我们期待着我们的级长在这样关键的时候发挥领导作用，”乔治惟妙惟肖的模仿珀西一贯华而不实的腔调。“现在，让我们上楼去战斗，抓住所有的食死徒。”
　　“那么，你现在是我嫂子啦？”珀西说着和芙蓉握了握手，随后赶快和比尔、弗雷德和乔治跑上楼梯。
　　“金妮！”韦斯莱夫人咆哮着。
　　金妮正试图在这场家庭和解的掩护之下偷偷摸摸溜上楼梯。
　　“莫莉，这样吧，”卢平说，“为什么不让金妮呆在这儿呢？起码这样她可以知道现场到底发生了什么，而她却不会参与到这场战斗中去。”
　　“我——”
　　“这是个好主意。”韦斯莱先生坚定的说，“金妮，你呆在这个房间，听到了吗？”
　　金妮看起来并不是十分喜欢这个主意，但是在韦斯莱先生不同寻常的严厉注视下，她点了点头。韦斯莱先生和韦斯莱太太，还有卢平也上了楼梯。
　　“罗恩哪去了？”哈利说，“还有赫敏？”
　　“他们一定是已经去了礼堂。”韦斯莱先生越过他的肩膀说。
　　“我没看到他们从我身边经过，”哈利说。
　　“他们说了些关于一间浴室的话，”金妮说，“就在你离开后没多久。”
　　“一间浴室？”
　　哈利大踏步的穿过房间，来到一扇开着的、连接着有求必应屋的门前，他检查了在那边的浴室，是空的。
　　“你肯定他们说的是浴——？”
　　然而他的伤疤灼痛起来，有求必应屋消失了。他正注视着一扇高大的煅铁大门，门两侧的柱子上各有一艘有翼的船，注释黑暗尽头的城堡——那里正被灯火点亮。纳吉尼在他的肩膀上盘卧着，他的全身被先前那种冷酷，残忍，想杀人的感觉占据着。　
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Chapter 29 The Lost Diadem
Neville – what the – how –?“
But Neville had spotted Ron and Hermione, and with yells of delight was hugging them too. The longer Harry looked at Neville, the worse he appeared: One of his eyes was swollen yellow and purple, there were gouge marks on his face, and his general air of unkemptness suggested that he had been living enough. Nevertheless, his battered visage shone with happiness as he let go of Hermione and said again, “I knew you’d come! Kept telling Seamus it was a matter of time!”
“Neville, what’s happened to you?”
“What? This?” Neville dismissed his injuries with a shake of the head. “This is nothing, Seamus is worse. You’ll see. Shall we get going then? Oh,” he turned to Aberforth, “Ab, there might be a couple more people to the way.”
“Couple more?” repeated Aberforth ominously. “What d’you mean, a couple more, Longbottom? There’s a curfew and a Camwaulding Charm on the whole village!”
“I know, that’s why they’ll be Apparating directly into the bar,” said Neville. “Just send them down the passage when they get here, will you? Thanks a lot.”
Neville held out his hand to Hermione and helped her to climb up onto the mantelpiece and into the tunnel; Ron followed, then Neville. Harry addressed Aberforth.
“I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve saved our lives twice.”
“Look after ‘em, then,” said Aberforth gruffly. “I might not be able to save ‘em a third time.”
Harry chambered up onto the mantelpiece and through the hole behind Ariana’s portrait. There were smooth stone steps on the other side: It looked as though the passageway had been there for years. Brass lamps hung from the walls and the earthy floor was worn and smooth; as they walked, their shadows rippled, fanlike, across the wall.
“How long’s this been here?” Ron asked as they set off. “It isn’t on the Marauder’s Map, is it Harry? I thought there were only seven passages in and out of school?”
“They sealed off all of those before the start of the year,” said Neville. “There’s no chance of getting through any of them now, not with the curses over the entrances and Death Eaters and dementors waiting at the exits.” He started walking backward, beaming, drinking them in. “Never mind that stuff … Is it true? Did you break into Gringotts? Did you escape on a dragon? It’s everywhere, everyone’s talking about it, Terry Boot got beaten up by Carrow for yelling about it in the Great Hall at dinner!”
“Yeah, it’s true,” said Harry.
Neville laughed gleefully.
“What did you do with the dragon?”
“Released it into the wild,” said Ron. “Hermione was all for keeping it as a pet”
“Don’t exaggerate, Ron – ”
“But what have you been doing? People have been saying you’ve just been on the run, Harry, but I don’t think so. I think you’ve been up to something.”
“You’re right,” said Harry, “but tell us about Hogwarts, Neville, we haven’t heard anything.”
“It’s been …. Well, it’s not really like Hogwarts anymore,” said Neville, the smile fading from his face as he spoke. “Do you know about the Carrows?”
“Those two Death Eaters who teach here?”
“They do more than teach,” said Neville. “They’re in charge of all discipline. They like punishment, the Carrows.”
“Like Umbridge?”
“Nah, they make her look tame. The other teachers are all supposed to refer us to the Carrows if we do anything wrong. They don’t, though, if they can avoid it. You can tell they all hate them as much as we do.”
“Amycus, the bloke, he teaches what used to be Defense Against the Dark Arts, except now it’s just the Dark Arts. We’re supposed to practice the Cruciatus Curse on people who’ve earned detentions – ”
“What?”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s united voices echoed up and down the passage.
“Yeah,” said Neville. “That’s how I got this one,” he pointed at a particularly deep gash in his cheek, “I refused to do it. Some people are into it, though; Crabbe and Goyle love it. First time they’ve ever been top in anything, I expect.”
“Alecto, Amycus’s sister, teaches Muggle Studies, which is compulsory for everyone. We’ve all got to listen to her explain how Muggles are like animals, stupid and dirty, and how they drive wizards into hiding by being vicious toward them, and how the natural order is being reestablished. I got this one,” he indicated another slash to his face, “for asking her how much Muggle blood she and her brother have got.”
“Blimey, Neville,” said Ron, “there’s a time and a place for getting a smart mouth.”
“You didn’t see her,” said Neville. “You wouldn’t have stood it either. The thing is, it helps when people stand up to them, it gives everyone hope. I used to notice that when you did it, Harry.”
“But they’ve used you as a knife sharpener,” said Ron, winding slightly as they passed a lamp and Neville’s injuries were thrown into even greater relief.
Neville shrugged.
“Doesn’t matter. They don’t want to spill too much pure blood, so they’ll torture us a bit if we’re mouthy but they won’t actually kill us.”
Harry did not know what was worse, the things that Neville was saying or the matter-of-fact tone in which he said them.
“The only people in real danger are the ones whose friends and relatives on the outside are giving trouble. They get taken hostage. Old Xeno Lovegood was getting a bit too outspoken in The Quibbler, so they dragged Luna off the train on the way back for Christmas.”
“Neville, she’s all right, we’ve seen her – ”
“Yeah, I know, she managed to get a message to me.”
From his pocket he pulled a golden coin, and Harry recognized it as one of the fake Galleons that Dumbledore’s Army had used to send one another messages.
“These have been great,” said Neville, beaming at Hermione. “The Carrows never rumbled how we were communicating, it drove them mad. We used to sneak out at night and put graffiti on the walls: Dumbledore’s Army, Still Recruiting, stuff like that. Snape hated it.”
“You used to?” said Harry, who had noticed the past tense.
“Well, it got more difficult as time went on.” said Neville. “We lost Luna at Christmas, and Ginny never came back after Easter, and the three of us were sort of the leaders. The Carrows seemed to know I was behind a lot of it, so they started coming down on me hard, and then Michael Corner went and got caught releasing a first-year they’d chained up, and they tortured him pretty badly. That scared people off.”
“No kidding,” muttered Ron, as the passage began to slope upward.
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t ask people to go through what Michael did, so we dropped those kinds of stunts. But we were still fighting, doing underground stuff, right up until a couple of weeks ago. That’s when they decided there was only one way to stop me, I suppose, and they went for Gran.”
“They what?” said Harry, Ron, and Hermione together.
“Yeah,” said Neville, panting a little now, because the passage was climbing so steeply, “well, you can see their thinking. It had worked really well, kidnapping kids to force their relatives to behave. I s’pose it was only a matter of time before they did it the other way around. Thing was,” he faced them, and Harry was astonished to see that he was grinning, “they bit off a bit more than they could chew with Gran. Little old witch living alone, they probably thought hey didn’t need to send anyone particularly powerful. Anyway,” Neville laughed, “Dawlish is still in St. Mungo’s and Gran’s on the run. She sent me a letter,” he clapped a hand to the breast pocket of his robes, “telling me she was proud of me, that I’m my parent’s son, and to keep it up.”
“Cool,” said Ron.
“Yea,” said Neville happily. “Only thing was, once they realized they had no hold over me, they decided Hogwarts could do without me after all. I don’t know whether they were planning to kill me or send me to Azkaban, either way, I knew it was time to disappear.”
“But,” said Ron, looking thoroughly confused, “aren’t – aren’t we heading straight back for Hogwarts?”
“‘Course,” said Neville. “You’ll see. We’re here.”
They turned a corner and there ahead of them was the end of the passage. Another short flight of steps led to a door just like the one hidden behind Ariana’s portrait. Neville pushed it open and climbed through. As Harry followed, he heard Neville call out for unseen people:
“Look who it is! Didn’t I tell you?”
As Harry emerged into the room behind the passage, there were several screams and yells: “HARRY!”
“It’s Potter, it’s POTTER!”
“Ron!”
“Hermione!”
He had a confused impression of colored hangings, of lamps and many faces. The next moment, he, Ron, and Hermione were engulfed, hugged, pounded on the back, their hair ruffled, their hands shaken, by what seemed to be more than twenty people. They might have just won a Quidditch final.
“Okay, okay, calm down!” Neville called, and as the crowd backed away, Harry was able to take in their surroundings.
He did not recognize the dorm at all. It was enormous, and looked rather like the interior of a particularly sumptuous tree house, or perhaps a gigantic ship’s cabin. Multicolored hammocks were strung from the ceiling and from the balcony that ran around the dark wood-paneled and windowless walls, which were covered in bright tapestry hangings. Harry saw the gold Gryffindor lion, emblazoned on scarlet; the black badger of Hufflepuff, set against yellow; and the bronze eagle of Ravenclaw, on blue. The silver and green of Slytherin alone were absent. There were bulging bookcases, a few broomsticks propped against the walls, and in the corner, a large wood-cased wireless.
“Where are we?”
“Room of Requirement, of course!” said Neville. “Surpassed itself, hasn’t it? The Carrows were chasing me, and I knew I had just one chance for a hideout: I managed to get through the door and this is what I found! Well, it wasn’t exactly like this when I arrived, it was a load smaller, there was only one hammock and just Gryffindor hangings. But it’s expanded as more and more of the D.A. have arrived.”
“And the Carrows can’t get in?” asked Harry, looking around for the door.
“No,” said Seamus Finnigan, whom Harry had not recognized until he spoke: Seamus’s face was bruised and puffy. “It’s a proper hideout, as long as one of us stays in here, they can’t get at us, the door won’t open. It’s all down to Neville. He really gets this room. You’ve got to ask for exactly what you need – like, ‘I don’t want any Carrow supporters to be able to get in’ – and it’ll do it for you! You’ve just got to make sure you close the loopholes. Neville’s the man!”
“It’s quite straightforward, really,” said Neville modestly. “I’d been in here about a day and a half, and getting really hungry, and wishing I could get something to eat, and that’s when the passage to Hog’s Head opened up. I went through it and met Aberforth. He’s been providing us with food, because for some reason, that’s the one thing the room doesn’t really do.”
“Yeah, well, food’s one of the five exceptions to Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration,” said Ron to general astonishment.
“So we’ve been hiding out here for nearly two weeks,” said Seamus, “and it just makes more hammocks every time we need room, and it even sprouted a pretty good bathroom once girls started turning up – ”
“ – and thought they’d quite like to wash, yes,” supplied Lavender Brown, whom Harry had not noticed until that point. Now that he looked around properly, he recognized many familiar faces. Both Patil twins were there, as were Terry Boot, Ernie Macmillan, Anthony Goldstein, and Michael Corner.
“Tell us what you’ve been up to, though,” said Ernie. “There’ve been so many rumors, we’ve been trying to keep up with you on Potterwatch.” He pointed at the wireless. “You didn’t break into Gringotts?”
“They did!” said Neville. “And the dragon’s true too!”
There was a smattering of applause and a few whoops; Ron took a bow.
“What were you after?” asked Seamus eagerly.
Before any of them could parry the question with one of their own, Harry felt a terrible, scorching pain in the lightning scar. As he turned his back hastily on the curious and delighted faces, the Room of Requirement vanished, and he was standing inside a ruined stone shack, and the rotting floorboards were ripped apart at his feet, a disinterred golden box lay open and empty beside the hole, and Voldemort’s scream of fury vibrated inside his head.
With an enormous effort he pulled out of Voldemort’s mind again, back to where he stood, swaying, in the Room of Requirement, sweat pouring from his face and Ron holding him up.
“Are you all right, Harry?” Neville was saying. “What to sit down? I expect you’re tired, aren’t –?”
“No,” said Harry. He looked at Ron and Hermione, trying to tell them without words that Voldemort had just discovered the loss of one of the other Horcruxes. Time was running out fast: If Voldemort chose to visit Hogwarts next, they would miss their chance.
“We need to get going,” he said, and their expressions told him that they understood.
“What are we going to do, then, Harry?” asked Seamus. “What’s the plan?”
“Plan?” repeated Harry. He was exercising all his willpower to prevent himself succumbing again to Voldemort’s rage: His scar was still burning. “Well, there’s something we – Ron, Hermione, and I – need to do, and then we’ll get out of here.”
Nobody was laughing or whooping anymore. Neville looked confused.
“What d’you mean, ‘get out of here’?”
“We haven’t come back to stay,” said Harry, rubbing his scar, trying to soothe the pain. “There’s something important we need to do – ”
“What is it?”
“I – I can’t tell you.”
There was a ripple of muttering at this: Neville’s brows contracted.
“Why can’t you tell us? It’s something to do with fighting You-Know-Who, right?”
“Well, yeah – ”
“Then we’ll help you.”
The other members of Dumbledore’s Army were nodding, some enthusiastically, others solemnly. A couple of them rose from their chairs to demonstrate their willingness for immediate action.
“You don’t understand,” Harry seemed to have said that a lot in the last few hours. “We – we can’t tell you. We’ve got to do it – alone.”
“Why?” asked Neville.
“Because …” In his desperation to start looking for the missing Horcrux, or at least have a private discussion with Ron and Hermione about where they might commence their search. Harry found it difficult to gather his thoughts. His scar was still searing. “Dumbledore left the three of us a job,” he said carefully, “and we weren’t supposed to tell – I mean, he wanted us to do it, just the three of us.”
“We’re his army,” said Neville. “Dumbledore’s Army. We were all in it together, we’ve been keeping it going while you three have been off on your own – ”
“It hasn’t exactly been a picnic, mate,” said Ron.
“I never said it had, but I don’t see why you can’t trust us. Everyone in this room’s been fighting and they’ve been driven in here because the Carrows were hunting them down. Everyone in here’s proven they’re loyal to Dumbledore – loyal to you.”
“Look,” Harry began, without knowing what he was going to say, but it did not matter. The tunnel door had just opened behind him.
“We got your message, Neville! Hello you three, I thought you must be here!”
It was Luna and Dean. Seamus gave a great roar of delight and ran to hug his best friend.
“Hi, everyone!” said Luna happily. “Oh, it’s great to be back!”
“Luna,” said Harry distractedly, “what are you doing here? How did you –?”
“I sent for her,” said Neville, holding up the fake Galleon. “I promised her and Ginny that if you turned up I’d let them know. We all thought that if you came back, it would mean revolution. That we were going to overthrow Snape and the Carrows.”
“Of course that’s what it means,” said Luna brightly. “Isn’t it, Harry? We’re going to fight them out of Hogwarts?”
“Listen,” said Harry with a rising sense of panic, “I’m sorry, but that’s not what we came back for. There’s something we’ve got to do, and then – ”
“You’re going to leave us in this mess?” demanded Michael Cornet.
“No!” said Ron. “What we’re doing will benefit everyone in the end, it’s all about trying to get rid of You-Know-Who – ”
“Then let us help!” said Neville angrily. “We want to be a part of it!”
There was another noise behind them, and Harry turned. His heart seemed to fall: Ginny was now climbing through the hole in the wall, closely followed by Fred, George, and Lee Jordan. Ginny gave Harry a radiant smile: He had forgotten, he had never fully appreciated, how beautiful she was, but he had never been less pleased to see her.
“Aberforth’s getting a bit annoyed,” said Fred, raising his hand in answer to several cries of greeting. “He wants a kip, and his bar’s turned into a railway station.”
Harry’s mouth fell open. Right behind Lee Jordan came Harry’s old girlfriend, Cho Chang. She smiled at him.
“I got the message,” she said, holding up her own fake Galleon and she walked over to sit beside Michael Corner.
“So what’s the plan, Harry?” said George.
“There isn’t one,” said Harry, still disoriented by the sudden appearance of all these people, unable to take everything in while his scar was still burning so fiercely.
“Just going to make it up as we go along, are we? My favorite kind,” said Fred.
“You’ve got to stop this!” Harry told Neville. “What did you call them all back for? This is insane – ”
“We’re fighting, aren’t we?” said Dean, taking out his fake Galleon. “The message said Harry was back, and we were going to fight! I’ll have to get a wand, though – ”
“You haven’t got a wand–?” began Seamus.
Ron turned suddenly to Harry.
“Why can’t they help?”
“What?”
“They can help.” He dropped his voice and said, so that none of them could hear but Hermione, who stood between them, “We don’t know where it is. We’ve got to find it fast. We don’t have to tell them it’s a Horcrux.”
Harry looked from Ron to Hermione, who murmured, “I think Ron’s right. We don’t even know what we’re looking for, we need them.” And when Harry looked unconvinced, “You don’t have to do everything alone, Harry.”
Harry thought fast, his scar still prickling, his head threatening to split again. Dumbledore had warned him against telling anyone but Ron and Hermione about the Horcruxes. Secrets and lies, that’s how we grew up, and Albus … he was a natural … Was he turning into Dumbledore, keeping his secrets clutched to his chest, afraid to trust? But Dumbledore had trusted Snape, and where had that led? To murder at the top of the highest tower …
“All right,” he said quietly to the other two. “Okay,” he called to the room at large, and all noise ceased: Fred and George, who had been cracking jokes for the benefit of those nearest, fell silent, and all of the looked alert, excited.
“There’s something we need to find,” Harry said. “Something – something that’ll help us overthrow You-Know-Who. It’s here at Hogwarts, but we don’t know where. It might have belonged to Ravenclaw. Has anyone heard of an object like that? Has anyone come across something with her eagle on it, for instance?”
He looked hopefully toward the little group of Ravenclaws, to Padma, Michael, Terry, and Cho, but it was Luna who answered, perched on the arm of Ginny’s chair.
“Well, there’s her lost diadem. I told you about it, remember, Harry? The lost diadem of Ravenclaw? Daddy’s trying to duplicate it.”
“Yeah, but the lost diadem,” said Michael Corner, rolling his eyes, “is lost, Luna. That’s sort of the point.”
“When was it lost?” asked Harry.
“Centuries ago, they say,” said Cho, and Harry’s heart sank. “Professor Flitwick says the diadem vanished with Ravenclaw herself. People have looked, but,” she appealed to her fellow Ravenclaws. “Nobody’s ever found a trace of it, have them?”
They all shook their heads.
“Sorry, but what is a diadem?” asked Ron.
“It’s a kind of crown,” said Terry Boot. “Ravenclaw’s was supposed to have magical properties, enhance the wisdom of the wearer.”
“Yes, Daddy’s Wrackspurt siphons – ”
But Harry cut across Luna.
“And none of you have ever seen anything that looks like it?”
They all shook their heads again. Harry looked at Ron and Hermione and his own disappointment was mirrored back at him. An object that had been lost this long, and apparently without trace, did not seem like a good candidate for the Horcrux hidden in the castle … Before he could formulate a new question, however, Cho spoke again.
“If you’d like to see what the diadem’s supposed to look like, I could take you up to our common room and show you, Harry. Ravenclaw’s wearing it in her statue.”
Harry’s scar scorched again: For a moment the Room of Requirement swam before him, and he saw instead the dark earth soaring beneath him and felt the great snake wrapped around his shoulders. Voldemort was flying again, whether to the underground lake or here, to the castle, he did not know: Either way, there was hardly any time left.
“He’s on the move,” he said quietly to Ron and Hermione. He glanced at Cho and then back at them. “Listen, I know it’s not much of a lead, but I’m going to go look at this statue, at least find out what the diadem looks like. Wait for me here and keep, you know – the other one – safe.”
Cho had got to her feet, but Ginny said rather fiercely, “No, Luna will take Harry, won’t you, Luna?”
“Oooh, yes, I’d like to,” said Luna happily, as Cho sat down again, looking disappointed.
“How do we get out?” Harry asked Neville.
“Over here.”
He led Harry and Luna to a corner, where a small cupboard opened onto a steep staircase. “It comes out somewhere different every day, so they’ve never been able to find it,” he said. “Only trouble is, we never know exactly where we’re going to end up when we go out. Be careful, Harry, they’re always patrolling the corridors at night.”
“No problem,” said Harry. “See you in a bit.”
He and Luna hurried up the staircase, which was long, lit by torches, and turned corners in unexpected places. At last they reached what appeared to be solid wall.
“Get under here,” Harry told Luna, pulling out the Invisibility Cloak and throwing it over both of them. He gave the wall a little push.
It melted away at his touch and they slipped outside. Harry glanced back and saw that it had resealed itself at once. They were standing in a dark corridor. Harry pulled Luna back into the shadows, fumbled in the pouch around his neck, and took out the Marauder’s Map. Holding it close to his nose he searched, and located his and Luna’s dots at last.
“We’re up on the fifth floor,” he whispered, watching filch moving away from them, a corridor ahead. “Come on, this way.”
They crept off.
Harry had prowled the castle at night many times before, but never had his heart hammered that fast, never had so much depended on his safe passage through the place. Through squares of moonlight upon the floor, past suits of armor whose helmets creaked at the sound of their soft footsteps, around corners beyond which who knew what lurked. Harry and Luna walked, checking the Marauder’s Map whenever light permitted, twice pausing to allow a ghost to pass without drawing attention to themselves. He expected to encounter an obstacle at any moment; his worst fear was Peeves, and he strained his ears with every step to hear the first, telltale signs of the poltergeist’s approach.
“The way, Harry,” breathed Luna, plucking his sleeve and pulling him toward a spiral staircase.
They climbed in tight, dizzying circles; Harry had never been up here before. At last they reached a door. There was no handle and no keyhole: nothing but a plain expanse of aged wood, and a bronze knocker in the shape an eagle.
Luna reached out a pale hand, which looked eerie floating in midair, unconnected to arm or body. She knocked once, and in the silence it sounded to Harry like a cannon blast. At once the beak of the eagle opened, but instead of a bird’s called, a soft, musical voice said, “Which came first, the phoenix or the flame?”
“Hmm … What do you think, Harry?” said Luna, looking thoughtful.
“What? Isn’t there a password?”
“Oh no, you’ve got to answer a question,” said Luna.
“What if you get it wrong?”
“Well, you have to wait for somebody who gets it right,” said Luna. “That way you learn, you see?”
“Yeah … Trouble is, we can’t really afford to wait for anyone else, Luna.”
“No, I see what you mean,” said Luna seriously. “Well then, I think the answer is that a circle has no beginning.”
“Well reasoned,” said the voice, and the door swung open.
The deserted Ravenclaw common room was a wide, circular room, airier than any Harry had ever seen at Hogwarts. Graceful arched windows punctuated the walls, which were hung with blue-and-bronze silks. By day, the Ravenclaws would have a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains. The ceiling was domed and painted with stars, which were echoed in the midnight-blue carpet. There were tables, chairs, and bookcases, and in a niche opposite the door stood a tall statue of white marble.
Harry recognized Rowena Ravenclaw from the bust he had seen at Luna’s house. The statue stood beside a door that led, he guessed, to dormitories above. He strode right up to the marble woman, and she seemed to look back at him with a quizzical half smile on her face, beautiful yet slightly intimidating. A delicate-looking circlet had been reproduced in marble on top of her head. It was not unlike the tiara Fleur had worn at her wedding. There were tiny words etched into it. Harry stepped out from under the Cloak and climbed up onto Ravenclaw’s plinth to read them.
“‘Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure.’”
“Which makes you pretty skint, witless,” said a cackling voice.
Harry whirled around, slipped off the plinth, and landed on the floor. The sloping-shouldered figure of Alecto Carrow was standing before him, and even as Harry raised his wand, she pressed a stubby forefinger to the skull and snake branded on her forearm.
“纳威—这——怎么会？”
　　但是纳威认出了罗恩与赫敏，高兴地叫出了声，紧紧地拥抱了他们。哈利越看纳威，越觉得他看起来很糟：他的一只眼睛呈黄紫色肿胀着，脸上到处是伤痕，而且从他凌乱的样子来看，他似乎经受了不少折磨。不过他伤痕累累的脸上仍闪着兴奋的光芒：“就知道你们会来的，我一直在告诉西莫这只是时间的问题。”他把赫敏放开后又说。
　　"纳威，你怎么了？"
　　“什么？这个？”纳威摇摇头，并不在意他的伤势，“这点事不算什么，西莫更惨，你会看到的。要不我们现在就进去吧？哦，”他转过来对阿不福思说，“阿不，估计还有几个人正在过来的路上呢。”
　　“还有几个人？” 阿不福思重复着，好像有种不祥的意味，“什么叫还有几个人啊，隆巴顿？整个村子可是有宵禁令和监视咒的！”
　　“我知道，所以他们会直接幻影显形到酒吧里，”纳威说道，“等他们到了，记得让他们通过，好吧？谢谢哦！”
　　纳威把他的手伸给赫敏，帮助她爬上壁炉架，进入地道；罗恩紧跟着她，然后是纳威。哈利转向阿不福思。
　　“我真不知道怎么感谢你，你两次救了我们的命。”
　　“那就照顾好他们，”阿不福思粗声粗气地说，“第三次我就不一定能够再救他们了。”
　　哈利爬上壁炉架，穿过阿瑞娜肖像后面的洞。洞的另一边有光滑的石梯：看起来这条通道好像已经有些年头了。黄铜的壁灯悬挂在墙上，土地面由于长期使用而变得光滑；他们行进时影子在墙上交织成起伏不定的扇形。
　　“这东西在这有多久了？”在他们出发时罗恩问道，“这可不在活点地图上，是吧哈利？我还以为只有七个人从这里进出过学校呢。”
　　“他们在学期刚开始时把这些秘道全都封起来了，”纳威说，“这里再也不可能通过了，尤其是在入口处有咒语，出口处有食死徒和摄魂怪的情况下。”他开始向后退，好像并不对此在意的样子。“别管这些东西……那是真的吗？你们闯进了古灵阁?从龙那里死里逃生？现在不管什么地方，大家都在谈论着这个，泰瑞·布特就是因为在大礼堂吃饭时忍不住喊出了这些事，才被卡罗兄妹给揍了的！”
　　“呵呵，那是真的。”哈利说。
　　纳威兴高采烈地笑着。
　　“你是怎么处理那只龙的啊？”
　　“把它放归野外了， ”罗恩说，“赫敏还赞成把它当成宠物养呢。”
　　“请你不要夸大其词，罗恩——”
　　“但是你们最近到底在做什么？人们都说你们藏起来了，哈利，但是我可不相信，我敢肯定你一定做了些什么。”
　　“你说的对，”哈利说，“不过先跟我们讲讲霍格沃茨，纳威，我们还什么都没听说呢。”
　　“唉，这里已经不是以前的霍格沃茨了，”纳威说道，他脸上的笑容褪去了，“你听说了关于卡罗兄妹的事吗？”
　　“那两个在这里教书的食死徒？”
　　“他们不光教书，”纳威说，“还负责纪律管理。卡罗兄妹喜欢惩罚。”
　　"就像乌姆里奇那样？"
　　“她在他们面前只能相形见绌。如果我们做错了事，其他老师都要向卡罗兄妹汇报。不过他们尽可能不这样做。可以说，他们和我们一样讨厌卡罗兄妹。”
　　“一个叫阿米科斯的家伙教黑魔法防御术，不过现在只是黑魔法。他们让我们对被关禁闭的人使用不可饶恕咒·”
　　“什么？”
　　哈利、罗恩和赫敏的声音在通道中上下回荡着。
　　“真的，”纳威说。“我这伤疤就是这么来的，”他指着自己脸颊上一处特别深的伤口说，“我拒绝这样做。不过有些人会觉得这很有趣；克拉布和高尔简直爱上这规定了。我想这是他们第一次可以凌驾一切。”
　　“阿勒克图,
　　阿米科斯的姐妹，在教麻瓜研究，现在这门课是必修课了。我们都得听她讲解麻瓜是如何像动物一样愚蠢肮脏，是如何用暴力把巫师们搞得只能躲藏起来，以及一种自然秩序正在重新建立。这个，”他指着脸上另一道斜着的伤疤说，“是因为我问她，她和她哥哥到底沾染了多少麻瓜的血而得到的。”
　　“啊，纳威，”罗恩说“你需要学聪明一点。”
　　“你没看到过她，”纳威说，“如果你见过，就不会这么说了。重点是，如果有人能站起来反抗他们，会给其他人带来希望。你这么做的时候我就发现了，哈利。”
　　“但是他们会拿你来开刀的，”罗恩说，当他们经过一盏壁灯时，风变弱了，纳威脸上的伤痕清晰得就像浮雕一样。
　　纳威耸耸肩。
　　“没关系啦。他们可不想浪费更多的纯血种，所以他们会因为这些口头反抗而折磨我们，但不会真的杀了我们。”
　　哈利不知道那个会更糟一些：是纳威正在叙说的这些事情，还是他说这些时平静的语气。
　　“真正有危险的人是朋友或亲戚在外面惹麻烦的，他们会被当作人质抓起来。老西诺·洛夫古德就是在《唱唱反调》里面有点太无所顾忌了，结果他们那帮人就在圣诞节后回学校的火车上把卢娜拽了下去。”
　　“纳威，她一切都好，我们见过她——”
　　“是啊，我知道，她给我送了信儿。”
　　他从兜里掏出一枚金币，哈利认出这是D·A用来互相传递消息用的一枚假的加隆。
　　“这玩意儿真是太棒了，”纳威说，满面笑容的看着赫敏，“卡罗兄妹俩做梦也想不到我们是怎么联络的，他们简直要被弄得疯掉了。我们以前经常在半夜偷偷溜出去，在墙上刻了诸如‘D·A招募新兵’一类的话。把斯内普气的不行。”
　　“以前？”哈利注意到是过去时，便问道。
　　“唉，越到后来就越难了，”纳威说，“圣诞节我们损失了卢娜，金妮复活节之后再也没回来，我们仨又是领头的。看上去卡罗兄妹知道我和大部分事情都脱不了干系，就开始教训我。后来迈克尔·科纳在释放一个被他们关起来的新生的时候被抓住了，结果被狠狠的修理了一顿。大伙就再也不敢了。”
　　“别开玩笑了！”罗恩咕哝道，这时候通道开始向上升了。
　　“是啊，嗯，我不能让大伙步迈克尔的后尘，所以那些把戏我们也不再用了。可我们还在坚持战斗，都是秘密活动，一直到几个星期以前。我猜他们是在那时候认识到只有一种办法能阻止我，就是打我奶奶的主意。”
　　“他们什么？”哈利、赫敏、罗恩异口同声问道。
　　“是啊，”纳威说，路越来越难走，他有一点喘了，“嗯，你能知道他们是怎么想的。绑架小孩儿，逼迫他们的亲戚就范，这一招屡试不爽。我想他们反其道而行之只不过是时间问题。可事实是，”他面对着他们，哈利惊讶的发现纳威竟然在微笑，“他们从奶奶那儿可是一点好果子都没讨到。他们可能觉得根本没必要派什么厉害的人物去对付一个既矮又老，还是一个人住的女巫。无论如何，”纳威大笑起来，“德力士还呆在圣芒戈，而奶奶已经逃之夭夭了。她还给我写了封信，”他拍了拍长袍上的胸袋，“跟我说她为我感到骄傲，说我不愧是我父亲的儿子，还说让我坚持到底。”
　　“太酷了！”罗恩说。
　　“对极了！”纳威开心地说，“只有一件事，他们发觉手中没有能威胁我的东西，终于决心让我从霍格沃茨消失。我不知道他们是打算杀掉我还是把我送进阿兹卡班，可我知道不论是哪种，我都是时候该销声匿迹了。”
　　“可是，”罗恩说，看上去完全懵了，“我们——我们不是正朝着霍格沃茨往回走吗？”
　　“当然，”纳威说。“你会明白的。我们到了。”
　　转过一个拐角，通道的尽头就在他们眼前。还有一小段阶梯，通向和阿瑞娜肖像后面那扇差不多的门。纳威把它推开，钻了过去。哈利紧跟其后，听到纳威对着一帮看不见的人大声说：
　　“快看看这是谁！别怪我没告诉你们！”
　　哈利一进到这间通道尽头的屋子就引起一片大呼小叫：“哈利！”“是波特，就是波特！”“罗恩！”“赫敏！”
　　看着五颜六色的帘子、灯，还有一张张脸，哈利感到很迷惑。一眨眼的工夫，他、罗恩和赫敏就被二十几个人团团围住了，人们拥抱他们，不停地拍他们的后背，弄乱了他们的头发，还跟他们握手。好像他们刚赢了魁地奇的决赛一样。
　　“好了，好了，都冷静！”纳威叫道，人群渐渐退去，哈利这才看清周围的情况。
　　他几乎认不出这间宿舍。它大极了，看上去就像是在一间富丽堂皇的树屋里面，或者一艘巨船的船舱。暗色木头镶嵌的没有窗子的墙上挂着色彩明快的织锦帘子，各种颜色的吊床紧靠着天花板和围绕着墙的阳台整齐地排成一排。哈利看见了用猩红色布装饰的格兰芬多金色狮子，黄色衬着的赫奇帕奇黑獾，蓝色装饰的拉文克劳青色老鹰，唯独少了银绿相间的斯莱特林。还有凸出来书架，靠墙立着的几把扫帚，角落里还有一个大大的木头做的收音机。
　　“我们这是在哪儿？”
　　“当然是有求必应屋了！”纳威说。“它看起来比以前大多了，不是吗？卡罗兄妹抓我的时候，我知道只有一个地方能躲起来：我设法通过了这扇门，就找到了现在的这个地方。嗯，我来时这里还完全不是现在这个样，当时这里小多了，只有一张吊床，帘子也只有格兰芬多的。不过随着D·A·的成员越来越多，屋子就自动扩大了。”
　　“那卡罗兄妹进不来？”哈利问，他往四处看，想找到门在哪儿。
　　“没错，”西莫·斐尼甘说，他的脸因瘀伤而肿着，直到他开口说话哈利才认出是他。“在这儿藏着真是再合适不过了，只要我们有一个人呆在这儿，他们就进不来,门是不会自己开的。这全是纳威的功劳。他把这间屋子用的得心应手。你得说明白你到底想要什么——就像‘我不想让卡罗那伙人进来’——它才会照你说的做！你得保证说的滴水不漏。纳威真是好样的！”
　　“那不算太难，真的，”纳威谦虚地说。“我那时候呆在这儿大约已经一天半了，饿坏了，真盼着能有什么吃的东西，就在那时去猪头酒吧的路出现了。我走过通道，结果遇见了阿不福思，他现在一直给我们做饭。因为某种原因，这间屋子没法给我们食物。”
　　“啊，对了，食物是甘普元素转换定律的五个例外之一，”罗恩对迷惑的人们说·
　　“我们躲在这差不多两个星期了，”西莫说，“每次我们需要更多的空间时，它就能变出吊床来，当女生们来的时候，它甚至变出了一间相当不错的盥洗室——”
　　“——当她们觉得很想要洗澡时，是的，”拉文德·布朗补充道，哈利直到那时才注意到她。他仔仔细细地看了一圈，认出了许多熟悉的面孔。佩蒂尔孪生姐妹都在这儿，还有特里-布特，厄尼·麦克米兰，安东尼·戈德斯坦和迈克尔·科纳。
　　“跟我们说说你都干了些什么，”厄尼说，“现在到处都是谣言，我们一直在通过波特兄弟会得知你的最新消息。”他指着收音机。“你们没有闯进古灵阁？”
　　“他们当然进去了！”纳威说。“而且关于龙的传闻也是货真价实的！ ”
　　“然后你干什么了？”西莫焦急地问。
　　没等每个人都提出他们想问的问题，哈利感觉到他的闪电伤疤开始火烧火燎地疼起来。他赶紧转过身背对着好奇而兴奋的人群。突然有求必应屋消失了，现在哈利站在一个破损得很严重的石头小屋里，他脚下已经腐烂的地板正在裂开，在一个被挖开的洞旁边，一个掀开盖子的金盒子躺倒着，里面什么也没有。伏地魔愤怒的叫声在他的脑海中回荡着。
　　把他自己从伏地魔的思想里剥离不是什么容易事，当哈利摇摇晃晃的回到他本来站着的地方时，罗恩正扶着满脸是汗的他。
　　“你还好吧，哈利？”纳威问道。“要坐下吗？我猜你一定了累坏了，是不……？”
　　“不是，”哈利说。他看着罗恩和赫敏，试图不出声地告诉他们伏地魔刚刚发现他的一个魂器被毁掉了。没有时间了，如果伏地魔下一步准备拜访霍格沃茨，他们很可能会失去机会。
　　“我们必须继续走了，”他说，他们的表情告诉他，他们明白了。
　　“那我们接下来干什么，哈利？”西莫问，“有什么计划？”
　　“计划？”哈利重复着。他正用全部的意志力使自己不再次地屈服于伏地魔的愤怒情绪：他的伤疤还在火烧火燎地痛着。“那个，我们——罗恩，赫敏和我——有些事需要去做，完成后我们会离开这儿。”
　　人们不再笑或者咳嗽。纳威看起来很疑惑。
　　“你说‘离开这'是什么意思啊?”
　　"我们不是回来待着的，”哈利说，一边揉着他的伤疤，试图减轻一些疼痛。“有些很重要的事情需要我们去做——”
　　“那是什么？”
　　“我——我不能告诉你。”
　　四周响起一片嘀咕声；纳威的眉头紧皱在一起。“为什么不能告诉我们？是和对抗神秘人有关的，对不对？”
　　“呃——对——”
　　“那我们也要加入。”
　　D·A的其他人都点头同意，有几个人显得特别有激情，其他人则很郑重。其中几个为了表示对接下来行动的决心与毅力甚至从椅子里站了起来。
　　“你们不明白，”在最近的几个小时里哈利好像已经说过很多次这句话了。
　　“我——我们不能告诉你们，这是我们必须——单独——来做的事情。”
　　“为什么？”纳威问。
　　“因为……”他是在不顾死活地寻找魂器，或者至少可以单独和罗恩赫敏讨论一下他们该从哪里开始调查。哈利发现他很难集中思想。他的伤疤还在痛，“邓布利多给我们三个布置了任务，”他很小心的说，“而且不允许我们向外透露——我的意思是，他只想让我们三个去完成这项工作。”
　　“我们是他的军队，”纳威说。“邓布利多军。我们一直都在一起，在我们都努力抗争的时候，你们三个却偷偷摸摸地做自己的事——”
　　“这不是野餐会，哥们，”罗恩说
　　“我没有这么说，但是我不明白为什么你们不能相信我们。在这个房子里的每个人都参加了战斗，正是因为这个他们才在这间房子里，因为卡罗兄妹正在对他们紧追不舍。这里的每个人都证明了他们对邓布利多的忠心——对你的忠心。”
　　“听着，”哈利说道，并不知道他接下来要说什么，但是那并没有关系。隧道的门突然在他身后打开了。
　　“我们得到了你的消息，纳威！嗨你们三个，我就知道你们肯定在这！”
　　是卢娜和迪安。西莫高兴得大叫一声，跑过去拥抱他的铁哥们。
　　“嗨，大家好！”卢娜开心地说，“哎，能回来真是太好了！”
　　“卢娜，”哈利心烦意乱的说，“你怎么在这？你是怎么——？”
　　“我告诉她的，”纳威说着举起那枚假加隆，“我答应过她和金妮如果你回来就告诉她们。我们都以为你回来是为了革命。我们可以推翻斯内普和卡罗兄妹了。”
　　“当然是为了这个啊！”卢娜兴高采烈的说，“是不是，哈利？我们要把他们打出霍格沃茨？”
　　“听着，”哈利感到有些惊慌，“对不起，但这不是我们回来的原因。我们回来是为了做一些事情，然后——”
　　“然后你就把这烂摊子留给我们，自己走掉？”迈克尔·科纳像是在盘问哈利。
　　“不是！”罗恩嚷道，“我们做的事情最终会让大家都受益的，都是为了消灭神秘人——”
　　“那就让我们也帮忙！”纳威有些着急的说，“我们也想加入！”
　　另一个声响在他们身后响起，哈利转过身去。他的心跳加速起来：金妮正从墙上的洞里爬出来，紧接着是她的双胞胎哥哥弗雷德和乔治，还有李·乔丹。金妮给了哈利一个灿烂的微笑：他都忘了自己从来没有仔细欣赏过金妮的美丽，但是也从没有像现在一样不想见到她。
　　“阿不福思有点生气了，”弗雷德说，一边举起他的手回应一些向他打招呼的声音。“他想睡觉，但是他的酒吧现在就像一个火车站。”
　　哈利张大了嘴，因为他的前女友出现在李·乔丹后面，秋·张对着他微笑：“我得到了消息。”她说，手里拿着那枚假加隆，走到迈克尔·科纳身边坐下。
　　“那么计划是什么，哈利？”乔治问道。
　　“还没有计划，”哈利说，正被突然出现的几个人搞得不知所措，他的伤疤痛得太厉害以至于他还不能接受所有的事。
　　“我们自己把他们搞定是不是？我最喜欢的。”弗雷德说到。
　　“你不能这样做！”哈利对纳威吼道，“把他们都叫回来是为了什么？这太荒唐——”
　　“我们在战斗，对不？”迪安说，把他的假加隆也拿了出来，“消息说哈利回来了，我们要开始战斗了！尽管我还需要一根魔杖——”
　　“你还没有魔杖？”西莫问道。
　　罗恩突然转向哈利。
　　“他们为什么不能帮忙？”
　　“什么？”
　　“他们可以帮忙，”他把声音降低，这样除了站在他们两人中间赫敏就没有人能够听到他说话了，“我们也不知道那个东西在哪，而且我们还要快点找到它。我们不用告诉他们那是一个魂器。”
　　哈利从罗恩转向赫敏，她小声地说：“我觉得罗恩是对的，我们都不知道要找的那个东西是什么，我们需要他们的帮助。”“你不用什么都一个人来承担，哈利。”看到哈利迟疑的表情，她赶紧加了一句。
　　哈利快速的想了一下，他的伤疤还在刺痛，头似乎又要裂开了。
　　邓布利多警告过他关于魂器的事情只能够告诉罗恩和赫敏。秘密与谎言，我们都是这么长大的，而阿不思……他是天才……他是否要变成像邓布利多一样，把他的秘密紧紧藏在心中，不敢面对真相？可是邓布利多相信斯内普，但是这又造成了什么后果？他还不是在天文塔上把他杀了……
　　“好吧！”他对另外两个人小声说到。“好吧，”他对着整个屋子喊道，其他声音都停止了：弗雷德和乔治停止给旁边的人讲笑话，所有人看起来都很警觉而兴奋。
　　“我们要找一些东西，”哈利说，“一些——一些可以帮助我们打败神秘人的东西。它在霍格沃茨，可是我们不知道确切的位置。它可能是属于拉文克劳的什么东西。有没有人恰好见过类似物品？比如说上面有那只老鹰的？”
　　他充满希望地看着那一小群拉文克劳的人：帕德玛、迈克尔、特里，还有秋,可回答他的是坐在金妮椅子把手上的卢娜。
　　“恩，是丢失的金冕。我告诉过你的，记得吗,哈利？拉文克劳丢失的金冕？爸爸试图复制过它。”
　　“是的，但是那个丢失的金冕，”麦克尔科纳转了转眼珠说，“已经丢了啊，卢娜。这没什么意义。”
　　“它什么时候丢的？”哈利问。
　　“他们说是好几个世纪以前，”秋说，哈利的心沉了一下，“弗利维教授说那个金冕是和拉文克劳本人一起消失的。人们试图寻找过，但是，”她向其他的几个拉文克劳询问道，“人们连一个碎片都没找到过，是不是？”
　　他们都摇摇头。
　　“对不起，不过那是个什么东西？”罗恩问。
　　”是一种王冠，”特里-布特说，“拉文克劳应该是有一个魔法器具，使佩带着它的人更加聪明。”
　　“是的，爸爸的思维推进器——”
　　哈利打断了卢娜。
　　“你们从来没见过任何和它相似的东西吗？”
　　他们又都摇头。哈利看着罗恩和赫敏，心里感到十分失望。把一个丢失了这么久而且下落不明的东西当作魂器，藏在城堡里可不像是个好主意……在他还没想好另一个问题之前，秋又开口了。
　　“如果你想看看那个金冕长成什么样子，我可以带你去我们的公共休息室，哈利。拉文克劳在她的画像里戴着它。”
　　哈利的伤疤又开始炙热的烧痛着：有求必应屋开始在他眼前晃动，然后黑色的土地出现在他的下面，他甚至感觉到那条大蛇正缠在他的肩上。伏地魔又开始飞行了，也许是去那条地下河，也许正在来城堡的路上。他不确定：其中是哪一条路,是不是没剩多少时间了？
　　“他在路上！”他对罗恩和赫敏小声说。他瞥了一眼秋，转过身背对着他们。“听着，我知道这没有多大意义，但是我决定去看一眼那个肖像，至少搞清楚那金冕长什么样子。在这等我一下，要保护好，你们知道，那个魂器的安全。”
　　秋已经站起来，但是金妮却突然凶巴巴地说“不用，卢娜会带哈利去，对吧，卢娜？”
　　“啊，是，我很乐意，”卢娜高兴地说。秋只好重新坐下，看起来挺失望。
　　“我们怎么出去”哈利问纳威。
　　“那里。”
　　他带领哈利和卢娜走到一个放着小碗柜的角落，从那里有一段向上的陡峭的台阶。
　　“这里的出入口每天都是不一样的，所以他们不可能找到它，”他说，“问题是我们不知道出去时会到哪。小心点，哈利，他们每天晚上都会在走廊里巡逻。”
　　“没问题的，待会见！”
　　他和卢娜赶紧爬上那些被火炬照亮的长长的台阶，转了个弯。最后到达了一段好像是坚固的墙的地方。
　　“到这下面来”哈利对卢娜说，把隐形衣拿出来罩在他们身上。他轻轻推了一下那面墙，就在他接触到墙的那一瞬间墙消失了，他们滑到了外面。哈利瞥了一眼后面，那个出口立刻自己又封上了。现在他们站在一条漆黑的走廊里。哈利把卢娜推进阴影里，在脖子上面的小袋子里摸索出活点地图。把鼻子凑到跟前，找到了他和卢娜所在的小黑点。
　　“我们在第五层，”他小声说，看着费里奇在他们前面的走廊消失，“这边走。”
　　他们小心翼翼地悄悄移动。
　　哈利曾在晚上在城堡悄悄走动过很多次，但是他的心从来没跳得这么快过，也从没象现在这么希望他所通过的地方都是安全的。走过月光在地板上留下的方形投影，两旁盔甲上头盔在他们轻得不能再轻的脚步中吱吱响着，鬼知道在转角处有谁在埋伏着。
　　哈利和卢娜一边走一边在灯光足够亮的地方查看着活点地图，有两次不得不停下让幽灵通过，不让他们发现。他做好了随时碰到障碍的准备；不过最让他担心的还是皮皮鬼，他努力的听着每一声可以预示这个令人讨厌的家伙靠近的声音。
　　“这边，哈利。”卢娜屏住呼吸说着，抓住他的袖子，带他来到了一处螺旋形的楼梯。
　　他们爬着这些令人头晕目眩的台阶；哈利以前从没来过这里。最后他们到了一扇没有拉手和钥匙孔的门面前：一大块有些年头的木头和一块青铜制老鹰形状的门环。
　　卢娜伸出一支苍白的手，那手看起来好像漂浮在空中，并没有与胳膊或身体相连。她轻敲了一次，但在寂静中对于哈利来说却像大炮发射一样响。老鹰的嘴突然张开了，但发出不是鸟叫而是一个轻柔而悦耳的声音说道，“先有鸡还是先有蛋？”
　　“恩……你觉得呢，哈利？”卢娜沉思着问。
　　“什么？没有口令吗？”
　　“哦，没有，你必须要回答问题。”卢娜说。
　　“那回答错了怎么办？”
　　“那你就得等着下一个能答对问题的人来了，”卢娜说，“这样你就可以学到东西，明白？”
　　“呃——是啊……问题是我们等不及下一个人来啊，卢娜。”
　　“是啊，我明白你的意思，”卢娜很认真地说，“那么，我觉得答案就是一个循环无始无终。”
　　“答得不错，”那个声音说到，然后门旋转着打开。
　　空着的拉文克劳公共休息室是一个宽敞的圆形房间，比哈利在霍格沃次见到的任何地方都要梦幻。墙上可爱的拱形窗户上挂着蓝色和青铜色的丝质窗帘。白天，拉文克劳们可以很好的欣赏到周围的山丘景色。穹形屋顶上面画着星星与地上的深蓝色地毯相互呼应。屋子里面有桌子，椅子和书柜，而正对着门的壁龛里有一尊白色大理石的肖像。
　　哈利认出了罗伊纳·拉文克劳，因为他在卢娜家里见到过她的那尊半身像。肖像在一扇门旁边，他猜可能是通往上面宿舍的。他大步走到大理石女人面前，她似乎也在看着他，脸上露出一丝古怪的微笑，美丽却有一点惶恐。她的头上是那个白色大理石做的精致的圆圈。和芙蓉在婚礼上戴的冕状头饰不同。金冕上面有些雕刻上去的字母。哈利钻出斗篷站到拉文克劳的底座上去读。
　　“无可估量的智慧是一个人最大的财富。”
　　“也能让你变得一文不值，白痴！”一个如同母鸡咯咯叫的声音说到。
　　哈利迅速转身，从基座上跌下来，落在地板上。阿勒克图卡罗肩膀倾斜的身影出现在他的面前，就在哈利举起魔杖的同时，她把短粗的食指放在了前臂上骷髅与蛇的印记上。
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Chapter 28 The Missing Mirror
Harry’s feet touched the road. He saw the achingly familiar Hogsmeade High Street: dark shop fronts, and the mist line of black mountains beyond the village and the curve in the road ahead that led off toward Hogwarts, and light spilling from the windows of the Three Broomsticks, and with a lurch of the hear, he remembered with piercing accuracy, how he had landed here nearly a year before, supporting a desperately weak Dumbledore, all this in a second, upon landing – and then, even as he relaxed his grip upon Ron’s and Hermione’s arms, it happened.
The air was rent by a scream that sounded like Voldemort’s when he had realized the cup had been stolen: It tore at every nerve in Harry’s body, and he knew that their appearance had caused it.
Even as he looked at the other two beneath the Cloak, the door of the Three Broomsticks burst open and a dozen cloaked and hooded Death Eaters dashed into the streets, their wands aloft.
Harry seized Ron’s wrist as he raised his wand; there were too many of them to run. Even attempting it would have give away their position. One of the Death Eaters raised his wand, and the scream stopped, still echoing around the distant mountains.
“Accio Cloak!” roared one of the Death Eaters Harry seized his folds, but it made no attempt to escape. The Summoning Charm had not worked on it.
“Not under your wrapper, then, Potter?” yelled the Death Eater who had tried the charm and then to his fellows. “Spread now. He’s here.”
Six of the Death Eaters ran toward them: Harry, Ron and Hermione backed as quickly as possible down the nearest side street, and the Death Eaters missed them by inches. They waited in the darkness, listening to the footsteps running up and down, beams of light flying along the street from the Death Eaters’ searching wands.
“Let’s just leave!” Hermione whispered. “Disapparate now!”
“Great idea,” said Ron, but before Harry could reply, a Death Eater shouted, “We know you are here, Potter, and there’s no getting away! We’ll find you!”
“They were ready for us,” whispered Harry. “They set up that spell to tell them we’d come. I reckon they’ve done something to keep us here, trap us – ”
“What about dementors?” called another Death Eater. “Let’em have free rein, they’d find him quick enough!”
“The Dark Lord wants Potter dead by no hands but his – ”
“ ‘an dementors won’t kill him! The Dark Lord wants Potter’s life, nor his soul. He’ll be easier to kill if he’s been Kissed first!”
There were noises of agreement. Dread filled Harry: To repel dementors they would have to produce Patronuses which would give them away immediately.
“We’re going to have to try to Disapparate, Harry!” Hermione whispered.
Even as she said it, he felt the unnatural cold being spread over the street. Light was sucked from the environment right up to the stars, which vanished. In the pitch blackness, he felt Hermione take hold of his arm and together, they turned on the spot.
The air through which they needed to move, seemed to have become solid: They could not Disapparate; the Death Eaters had cast their charms well. The cold was biting deeper and deeper into Harry’s flesh. He, Ron and Hermione retreated down the side street, groping their way along the wall trying not to make a sound. Then, around the corner, gliding noiselessly, came dementors, ten or more of them, visible because they were of a denser darkness than their surroundings, with their black cloaks and their scabbed and rotting hands. Could they sense fear in the vicinity? Harry was sure of it: They seemed to be coming more quickly now, taking those dragging, rattling breaths he detested, tasting despair in the air, closing in - He raised his wand: He could not, would not suffer the Dementor’s Kiss, whatever happened afterward. It was of Ron and Hermione that he thought as he whispered “Expecto Patronum!”
The silver stag burst from his wand and charged: The Dementors scattered and there was a triumphant yell from somewhere out of sight
“It’s him, down there, down there, I saw his Patronus, it was a stag!”
The Dementors have retreated, the stars were popping out again and the footsteps of the Death Eaters were becoming louder; but before Harry in his panic could decide what to do, there was a grinding of bolts nearby, a door opened on the left-side of the narrow street, and a rough voice said: “Potter, in here, quick!”
He obeyed without hesitation, the three of them hurried through the open doorway.
“Upstairs, keep the Cloak on, keep quiet!” muttered a tall figure, passing them on his way into the street and slammed the door behind him.
Harry had had no idea where they were, but now he saw, by the stuttering light of a single candle, the grubby, sawdust bar of the Hog’s Head Inn. They ran behind the counter and through a second doorway, which led to a trickery wooden staircase, that they climbed as fast as they could. The stairs opened into a sitting room with a durable carpet and a small fireplace, above which hung a single large oil painting of a blonde girl who gazed out at the room with a kind of a vacant sweetness.
Shouts reached from the streets below. Still wearing the Invisibility Cloak on, they hurried toward the grimy window and looked down. Their savior, whom Harry now recognized as the Hog’s Head’s barman, was the only person not wearing a hood.
“So what?” he was bellowing into one of the hooded faces. “So what? You send dementors down my street, I’ll send a Patronus back at’em! I’m not having’em near me, I’ve told you that. I’m not having it!”
“That wasn’t your Patronus,” said a Death Eater. “That was a stag. It was Potter’s!”
“Stag!” roared the barman, and he pulled out a wand. “Stag! You idiot – Expecto Patronum!”
Something huge and horned erupted from the wand. Head down, it charged toward the High Street, and out of sight.
“That’s not what I saw” said the Death Eater, though was less certainly “Curfew’s been broken, you heard the noise,” one of his companions told the barman. “Someone was out on the streets against regulations – ”
“If I want to put my cat out, I will, and be damned to your curfew!”
“You set off the Caterwauling Charm?”
“What if I did? Going to cart me off to Azkaban? Kill me for sticking my nose out my own front door? Do it, then, if you want to! But I hope for your sakes you haven’t pressed your little Dark Marks, and summoned him. He’s not going to like being called here, for me and my old cat, is he, now?”
“Don’t worry about us.” said one of the Death Eaters, “worry about yourself, breaking curfew!”
“And where will you lot traffic potions and poisons when my pub’s closed down? What will happen to your little sidelines then?”
“Are you threatening –?”
“I keep my mouth shut, it’s why you come here, isn’t it?”
“I still say I saw a stag Patronus!” shouted the first Death Eater.
“Stag?” roared the barman. “It’s a goat, idiot!”
“All right, we made a mistake,” said the second Death Eater. “Break curfew again and we won’t be so lenient!”
The Death Eaters strode back towards the High Street. Hermione moaned with relief, wove out from under the Cloak, and sat down on a wobble-legged chair. Harry drew the curtains then pulled the Cloak off himself and Ron. They could hear the barman down below, rebolting the door of the bar, then climbing the stairs.
Harry’s attention was caught by something on the mantelpiece: a small, rectangular mirror, propped on top of it, right beneath the portrait of the girl.
The barman entered the room.
“You bloody fools,” he said gruffly, looking from one to the other of them. “What were you thinking, coming here?”
“Thank you,” said Harry. “You can’t thank you enough. You saved our lives!”
The barman grunted. Harry approached him looking up into the face: trying to see past the long, stringy, wire-gray hair beard. He wore spectacles. Behind the dirty lenses, the eyes were a piercing, brilliant blue.
“It’s your eye I’ve been seeing in the mirror.”
There was a silence in the room. Harry and the barman looked at each other.
“You sent Dobby.”
The barman nodded and looked around for the elf.
“Thought he’d be with you. Where’ve you left him?”
“He’s dead,” said Harry, “Bellatrix Lestrange killed him.”
The barman face was impassive. After a few moments he said, “I’m sorry to hear it, I liked that elf.”
He turned away, lightning lamps with prods of his wand, not looking at any of them.
“You’re Aberforth,” said Harry to the man’s back.
He neither confirmed or denied it, but bent to light the fire.
“How did you get this?” Harry asked, walking across to Sirius’s mirror, the twin of the one he had broken nearly two years before.
“Bought it from Dung ‘bout a year ago,” said Aberforth. “Albus told me what it was. Been trying to keep an eye out for you.”
Ron gasped.
“The silver doe,” he said excitedly, “Was that you too?”
“What are you talking about?” asked Aberforth.
“Someone sent a doe Patronus to us!”
“Brains like that, you could be a Death Eater, son. Haven’t I just prove my Patronus is a goat?”
“Oh,” said Ron, “Yeah… well, I’m hungry!” he added defensively as his stomach gave an enormous rumble.
“I got food,” said Aberforth, and he sloped out of the room, reappearing moments later with a large loaf of bread, some cheese, and a pewter jug of mead, which he set upon a small table in front of the fire.
Ravenous, they ate and drank, and for a while there was sound of chewing.
“Right then,” said Aberforth when the had eaten their fill and Harry and Ron sat slumped dozily in their chairs. “We need to think of the best way to get you out of here. Can’t be done by night, you heard what happens if anyone moves outdoors during darkness: Caterwauling Charm’s set off, they’ll be onto you like bowtruckles on doxy eggs. I don’t reckon I’ll be able to pass of a stag as a goat a second time. Wait for daybreak when curfew lifts, then you can put your Cloak back on and set out on foot. Get right out of Hogsmeade, up into the mountains, and you’ll be able to Disapparate there. Might see Hagrid. He’s been hiding in a cave up there with Grawp ever since they tried to arrest him.”
“We’re not leaving,” said Harry. “We need to get into Hogwarts.”
“Don’t be stupid, boy,” said Aberforth.
“We’ve got to,” said Harry.
“What you’ve got to do,” said Aberforth, leaning forward, “is to get as far from here as from here as you can.”
“You don’t understand. There isn’t much time. We’ve got to get into the castle. Dumbledore – I mean, your brother – wanted us – ”
The firelight made the grimy lenses of Aberforth’s glasses momentarily opaque, a bright flat white, and Harry remembered the blind eyes of the giant spider, Aragog.
“My brother Albus wanted a lot of things,” said Aberforth, “and people had a habit of getting hurt while he was carrying out his grand plans. You get away from this school, Potter, and out of the country if you can. Forget my brother and his clever schemes. He’s gone where none of this can hurt him, and you don’t owe him anything.”
“You don’t understand.” said Harry again.
“Oh, don’t I?” said Aberforth quietly. “You don’t think I understood my own brother? Think you know Albus better than I did?”
“I didn’t mean that,” said Harry, whose brain felt sluggish with exhaustion and from the surfeit of food and wine. “It’s… he left me a job.”
“Did he now?” said Aberforth. “Nice job, I hope? Pleasant? Easy? Sort of thing you’d expect an unqualified wizard kid to be able to do without overstretching themselves?”
Ron gave a rather grim laugh. Hermione was looking strained.
“I-it’s not easy, no,” said Harry. “But I’ve got to – ”
“Got to? Why got to? He’s dead, isn’t he?” said Aberforth roughly. “Let it go, boy, before you follow him! Save yourself!”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I – ” Harry felt overwhelmed; he could not explain, so he took the offensive instead. “But you’re fighting too, you’re in the Order of the Phoenix – ”
“I was,” said Aberforth. “The Order of the Phoenix is finished. You-Know-Who’s won, it’s over, and anyone who’s pretending different’s kidding themselves. It’ll never be safe for you here, Potter, he wants you too badly. So go abroad, go into hiding, save yourself. Best take these two with you.” He jerked a thumb at Ron and Hermione.
“They’ll be in danger long as they live now everyone knows they’ve been working with you.”
“I can’t leave,” said Harry. “I’ve got a job – ”
“Give it to someone else!”
“I can’t. It’s got to be me, Dumbledore explained it all – ”
“Oh, did he now? And did he tell you everything, was he honest with you?”
Harry wanted him with all his heart to say “Yes,” but somehow the simple word would not rise to his lips, Aberforth seemed to know what he was thinking.
“I knew my brother, Potter. He learned secrecy at our mother’s knee. Secrets and lies, that’s how we grew up, and Albus… he was a natural.”
The old man’s eyes traveled to the painting of the girl over the mantelpiece. It was, now Harry looked around properly, the only picture in the room. There was no photograph of Albus Dumbledore, nor of anyone else.
“Mr. Dumbledore” said Hermione rather timidly. “Is that your sister? Ariana?”
“Yes.” said Aberforth tersely. “Been reading Rita Skeeter, have you, missy?”
Even by the rosy light of the fire it was clear that Hermione had turned red.
“Elphias Doge mentioned her to us,” said Harry, trying to spare Hermione.
“That old berk,” muttered Aberforth, taking another swig of mead. “Thought the sun shone out of my brother’s every ocrifice, he did. Well, so did plenty of people, you three included, by the looks of it.”
Harry kept quiet. He did not want to express the doubts and uncertainties about Dumbledore that had riddled him for months now. He had made his choice while he dug Dobby’s grave, he had decided to continue along the winding, dangerous path indicated for him by Albus Dumbledore, to accept that he had not been told everything that he wanted to know, but simply to trust. He had no desire to doubt again; he did not want o hear anything that would deflect him from his purpose. He met Aberforth’s gaze, which was so strikingly like his brothers’: The bright blue eyes gave the same impression that they were X-raying the object of their scrutiny, and Harry thought that Aberforth knew what he was thinking and despised him for it.
“Professor Dumbledore cared about Harry, very much,” said Hermione in a low voice.
“Did he now?” said Aberforth. “Funny thing how many of the people my brother cared about very much ended up in a worse state than if he’d left ‘em well alone.”
“What do you mean?” asked Hermione breathlessly.
“Never you mind,” said Aberforth.
“But that’s a really serious thing to say!” said Hermione. “Are you – are you talking about your sister?”
Aberforth glared at her: His lips moved as if he were chewing the words he was holding back. Then he burst into speech.
“When my sister was six years old, she was attacked, by three Muggle boys. They’d seen her doing magic, spying through the back garden hedge: She was a kid, she couldn’t control it, no witch or wizard can at that age. What they saw, scared them, I expect. They forced their way through the hedge, and when she couldn’t show them the trick, they got a bit carried away trying to stop the little freak doing it.”
Hermione’s eyes were huge in the firelight; Ron looked slightly sick. Aberforth stood up, tall as Albus, and suddenly terrible in his anger and the intensity of his pain.
“It destroyed her, what they did: She was never right again. She wouldn’t use magic, but she couldn’t get rid of it; it turned inward and drove her mad, it exploded out of her when she couldn’t control it, and at times she was strange and dangerous. But mostly she was sweet and scared and harmless.”
“And my father went after the bastards that did it,” said Aberforth, “and attacked them. And they locked him up in Azkaban for it. He never said why he’d done it, because the Ministry had known what Ariana had become, she’d have been locked up in St. Mungo’s for good. They’d have seen her as a serious threat to the International Statute of Secrecy, unbalanced like she was, with magic exploding out of her at moments when she couldn’t keep it in any longer.”
“We had to keep her safe and quiet. We moved house, put it about she was ill, and my mother looked after her, and tried to keep her calm and happy.”
“I was her favourite,” he said, and as he said it, a grubby schoolboy seemed to look out through Aberforth’s wrinkles and wrangled beard. “Not Albus, he was always up in his bedroom when he was home, reading his books and counting his prizes, keeping up with his correspondence with the most notable magical names of the day,”
Aberforth succored. “He didn’t want to be bothered with her. She liked me best. I could get her to eat when she wouldn’t do it for my mother, I could calm her down, when she was in one of her rages, and when she was quiet, she used to help me feed the goats.”
“Then, when she was fourteen… See, I wasn’t there.” said Aberforth. “If I’d been there, I could have calmed her down. She had one of her rages, and my mother wasn’t as young as she was, and… it was an accident. Ariana couldn’t control it. But my mother was killed.”
Harry felt a horrible mixture of pity and repulsion; he did not want to hear any more, but Aberforth kept talking, and Harry wondered how long it had been since he had spoken about this; whether, in fact, he had ever spoken about it.
“So that put paid to Albus’s trip round the world with little Doge. The pair of ‘em came home for my mother’s funeral and then Doge went off on his own, and Albus settled down as head of the family. Ha!”
Aberforth spat into the fire.
“I’d have looked after her, I told him so, I didn’t care about school, I’d have stayed home and done it.
He told me I had to finish my education and he’d take over from my mother. Bit of a comedown for Mr. Brilliant, there’s no prizes for looking after your half-mad sister, stopping her blowing up the house every other day. But he did all right for a few weeks… till he came.“
And now a positively dangerous look crept over Aberforth’s face.
“Grindelwald. And at last, my brother had an equal to talk to someone just as bright and talented he was. And looking after Ariana took a backseat then, while they were hatching all their plans for a new Wizarding order and looking for Hallows, and whatever else it was they were so interested in. Grand plans for the benefit of all Wizardkind, and if one young girl neglected, what did that matter, when Albus was working for the greater good?”
“But after a few weeks of it, I’d had enough, I had. It was nearly time for me to go hack to Hogwarts, so I told ‘em, both of ‘em, face-to-face, like I am to you, now,” and Aberforth looked downward Harry, and it took a little imagination to see him as a teenager, wiry and angry, confronting his elder brother. “I told him, you’d better give it up now. You can’t move her, she’s in no fit state, you can’t take her with you, wherever it is you’re planning to go, when you’re making your clever speeches, trying to whip yourselves up a following. He didn’t like that.” said Aberforth, and his eyes were briefly occluded by the fireflight on the lenses of his glasses: They turned white and blind again. “Grindelwald didn’t like that at all. He got angry. He told me what a stupid little boy I was, trying to stand in the way of him and my brilliant brother… Didn’t I understand, my poor sister wouldn’t have to be hidden once they’d changed the world, and led the wizards out of hiding, and taught the Muggles their place?”
“And there was an argument… and I pulled my wand, and he pulled out his, and I had the Cruciatus Curse used on me by my brother’s best friend – and Albus was trying to stop him, and then all three of us were dueling, and the flashing lights and the bangs set her off, she couldn’t stand it – ”
The color was draining from Aberforth’s face as though he had suffered a mortal wound.
“ – and I think she wanted to help, but she didn’t really know what she was doing, and I don’t know which of us did it, it could have been any of us – and she was dead.”
His voice broke on the last word and he dropped down into the nearest chair. Hermione’s face was wet with tears, and Ron was almost as pale as Aberforth. Harry felt nothing but revulsion: He wished he had not heard it, wished he could wash is mind clean of it.
“I’m so… I’m so sorry,” Hermione whispered.
“Gone,” croaked Aberforth. “Gone forever.”
He wiped his nose on hiss cuff and cleared his throat.
“ ‘Course, Grindelwald scarpered. He had a bit of a track record already, back in his own country, and he didn’t want Ariana set to his account too. And Albus was free, wasn’t he? Free of the burden of his sister, free to become the greatest wizard of the – ”
“He was never free,” said Harry.
“I beg your pardon?” said Aberforth.
“Never,” said Harry. “The night that your brother died, he drank a potion that drove him out of his mind. He started screaming, pleading with someone who wasn’t there. ‘Don’t hurt them, please… hurt me instead.’ ”
Ron and Hermione were staring at Harry. He had never gone into details about what had happened on the island on the lake.
The events that had taken place after he and Dumbledore had returned to Hogwarts had eclipsed it so thoroughly.
“He thought he was back there with you and Grindelwald, I know he did,” said Harry, remembering Dumbledore whispering, pleading.
“He thought he was watching Grindelwald hurting you and Ariana… It was torture to him, if you’d seen him then, you wouldn’t say he was free.”
Aberforth seemed lost in contemplation of his own knotted and veined hands. After a long pause he said. “How can you be sure, Potter, that my brother wasn’t more interested in the greater good than in you? How can you be sure you aren’t dispensable, just like my little sister?”
A shard of ice seemed to pierce Harry’s heart.
“I don’t believe it. Dumbledore loved Harry,” said Hermione.
“Why didn’t he tell him to hide, then?” shot back Aberforth. “Why didn’t he say to him, ‘Take care of yourself, here’s how to survive’?”
“Because,” said Harry before Hermione could answer, “sometimes you’ve got to think about more than your own safety! Sometimes you’ve got to think about the greater good! This is war!”
“You’re seventeen, boy!”
“I’m of age, and I’m going to keep fighting even if you’ve given up!”
“Who says I’ve given up?”
“The Order of the Phoenix is finished,” Harry repeated, “You-Know-Who’s won, it’s over, and anyone who’s pretending different’s kidding themselves.”
“I don’t say I like it, but it’s the truth!”
“No, it isn’t.” said Harry. “Your brother knew how to finish You-Know-Who and he passed the knowledge on to me. I’m going to keep going until I succeed – or I die. Don’t think I don’t know how this might end. I’ve known it for years.”
He waited for Aberforth to jeer or to argue, but he did not. He merely moved.
“We need to get into Hogwarts,” said Harry again. “If you can’t help us, we’ll wait till daybreak, leave you in peace, and try to find a way in ourselves. If you can help us – well, now would be a great time to mention it.”
Aberforth remained fixed in his chair, gazing at Harry with the eye, that were so extraordinarily like his brother’s. At last he cleared his throat, got to his feet, walked around the little table, and approached the portrait of Ariana.
“You know what to do,” he said.
She smiled, turned, and walked away, not as people in portraits usually did, one of the sides of their frames, but along what seemed to be a long tunnel painted behind her. They watched her slight figure retreating until finally she was swallowed by the darkness.
“Er – what –?” began Ron.
“There’s only one way in now,” said Aberforth. “You must know they’ve got all the old secret passageways covered at both ends, dementors all around the boundary walls, regular patrols inside the school from what my sources tell me. The place has never been so heavily guarded.
How you expect to do anything once you get inside it, with Snape in charge and the Carrows as his deputies… well, that’s your lookout, isn’t it? You say you’re prepared to die.“
“But what…?” said Hermione, frowning at Ariana’s picture.
A tiny white dot reappeared at the end of the painted tunnel, and now Ariana was walking back toward them, growing bigger and bigger as she came. But there was somebody else with her now, someone taller than she was, who was limping along, looking excited. His hair was longer than Harry had ever seen. He appeared and torn. Larger and larger the two figures grew, until only their heads and shoulders filled the portrait.
Then the whole thing swang forward on the wall like a little door, and the entrance to a real tunnel was revealed. And out of it, his hair overgrown, his face cut, his robes ripped, clambered the real Neville Longbottom, who gave a roar of delight, leapt down from the mantelpiece and yelled.
“I knew you’d come! I knew it, Harry!”
哈利的双脚落在了路面上。霍格莫德大街那熟悉的景象展现在他眼前：阴暗的店面、远处雾蒙蒙的黑色山峰和那前面延伸到霍格沃茨的曲折小路，以及从三把扫帚酒吧的窗户里透出的亮光。落地的瞬间，他突然清楚地回想起将近一年以前，他是如何搀扶着极度虚弱的邓布利多在这里着陆的。
　　哈利刚要松手放开罗恩和赫敏的胳膊，突然空气中传来尖叫声，那声音就像是伏地魔得知金杯被偷的时候发出的。这个声音让哈利全身的神经都紧张了起来：他们被发现了。
　　正当他的目光转向隐身衣下的另外两个伙伴时，三把扫帚酒吧的门突然打开了，十二个披着斗篷，蒙着面具的食死徒高举着他们的魔杖冲到了街上。罗恩正要举起他的魔杖，哈利拉住了他的手腕。对方人太多了，根本跑不掉——只要稍不注意就会暴露他们的位置。
　　一个食死徒举起魔杖。尖叫声消失了，但依然可以听见从山那边传来的回声。
　　“隐身衣飞来！”一个食死徒吼道。
　　哈利紧紧抓住隐身衣，可是它并没有要飞走的迹象。飞来咒对它并不起作用。
　　“没穿你的小斗篷，波特？”那个使用魔咒的食死徒大叫道，随后对他的同伙们说：“散开找，他就在这儿！”
　　六个食死徒向他们跑过来，差点抓住他们。哈利、罗恩和赫敏用他们最快的速度退到最近的巷子里。他们在黑暗中静静地等着，聆听着街上传来的忙乱的脚步声。食死徒们的魔杖发出的用来搜寻他们的光束四处晃动着。
　　“我们走！”赫敏低语道，“马上幻影移形！”
　　“好主意，”罗恩说，但还没等哈利回答，一个食死徒喊道：“我们知道你在这儿，波特，你逃不掉的！我们会找到你的！”
　　“他们早就准备好了，”哈利低声说，“他们用了魔咒发现我们来，我确定他们还会做些什么来困住我们，不让我们走……”
　　“为什么不用摄魂怪？”另外一个食死徒大声说，“把摄魂怪放出来的话会很快找到他的！”
　　“黑魔王要亲手杀死波特……”
　　“摄魂怪并不会杀死他！黑魔王要的是波特的命，不是他的魂儿。相反，被摄魂怪吻过以后，他会更容易被杀死的！”
　　他们大声争论着。哈利感到阵阵恐惧——要击退摄魂怪就必须召唤守护神，这样他们马上就会被发现。
　　“我们必须试试幻影移形，哈利！”赫敏小声说。
　　就在这时，哈利感觉到一股不自然的寒气在街上传播开来，周围的光都被吸走了，连天上的星星也消失了。在漆黑一团中，他感到赫敏抓住了他的胳膊。他们俩一起准备幻影移形。
　　他们周围的空气似乎凝固住了一样。无法幻影移形——食死徒果然用了什么咒语。越来越浓的寒气刺入哈利的身体。他、罗恩和赫敏贴着墙，摸索着沿着巷子向后退，努力不发出声响。他们刚转过一个拐角，就发现十只或更多的摄魂怪披着黑色的斗篷，能够看到它们是因为它们比周围环境要暗很多，它们伸出布满疤痕的腐烂的手，悄无声息地飘了过来。它们能够感到周围的恐惧吗吗？哈利确信这一点——它们似乎移动得更快了，伴随着让哈利非常厌恶的咳咳作响的拖长了的呼吸声，品味着空气中的绝望，不断向他们逼近……
　　他举起手中的魔杖——他决不能忍受摄魂怪的吻，不管之后会发生什么。
　　他心里想着罗恩和赫敏，同时低声念出：“呼神护卫！”
　　一只银色的牡鹿从他的魔杖尖里飞了出来冲向前方，摄魂怪四散逃走了。一个得意的声音从什么地方喊道：“找到他了！那边，在那边！我看见他的守护神了，一只牡鹿！”
　　摄魂怪被击退了，繁星重新显现出来。食死徒的脚步声越来越响，但是还没等哈利从惊恐中回过神来有所动作，不远处传来门闩打开的声音。这条狭窄街道的左手边一扇小门打开了。一个粗犷的声音说道：“波特，进来，快！”
　　哈利想都没想就这样做了，他们三个快速地进了门。
　　“上楼去，别脱掉隐身衣，别出声！”一个高大的身影喃喃低语。他经过他们身边，走到街上，重重地关上了门。
　　哈利一开始还不知道这是哪儿，现在，借助那儿唯一的一支蜡烛微弱的光线，他认出了猪头酒吧那脏兮兮的销屑吧台。他们跑到柜台后面，穿过一扇门，迅速爬上了一段木制的楼梯来到了客厅。客厅里铺着结实的地毯，小壁炉上方挂着一张巨大的油画，画中的金发女孩带着一种空洞的甜美地凝视着屋子。
　　楼下的街上传来叫喊声。他们披着隐身衣，急忙来到脏兮兮的窗子旁边向下看去。他们的救星——哈利现在认出了他正是猪头酒吧的招待——是唯一一个没有戴面具的人。
　　“怎么？”他愤怒地向一个戴着面具的家伙吼道，“怎么？你们让摄魂怪来到我的街上，我当然可以用守护神把它们赶走！我才不想让它们靠近我，我告诉你，绝对不行！”
　　“那不是你的守护神，”一个食死徒说，“那是一只牡鹿，是波特的！”
　　“牡鹿！”招待咆哮道，接着他抽出魔杖，“牡鹿！你们这些笨蛋，呼神护卫！”
　　一个巨大的长着角的东西从他的魔杖中涌了出来，头朝下地冲向大街，直到视线之外。
　　“我看到的不是那个东西。”那个食死徒说，尽管他也不是非常确定。
　　“有人违反了宵禁，你也应该听到了，”他的一个同伴告诉招待，“违反了规定，到街上来……”
　　“我想要出来溜溜猫怎么了？去他的鬼宵禁！”
　　“是你触发了宵禁咒？”
　　“是又怎样？把我关进阿兹卡班？以‘在自己家门口走走’为罪名杀了我？如果你们想的话，请便吧！不过，看在你们自己的份上，但愿你们还没有按下你们那小黑魔标记来召唤他。我想他可不愿意因为我和我这只老猫被叫到这儿来，不是么？”
　　“不用为我们担心。”一个食死徒说道，“操心你自己吧，竟然敢违反宵禁！”
　　“如果我的酒吧关门了，你们打算去哪儿买那些药剂和毒药？你们那点可怜的小买卖还怎么做？”
　　“你竟敢威胁……”
　　“我可以闭嘴，这不正是你们来这儿的目的么？”
　　“我还是觉得我一开始看到的守护神是一只牡鹿！”第一个食死徒争辩道。
　　“牡鹿？”招待吼道，“是山羊，笨蛋！”
　　“好，是我们看错了，”第二个食死徒说，“不过你要是再敢违反宵禁，我们绝不饶过你！”
　　食死徒们回头向大街走去。赫敏终于松了口气，从隐身衣下面爬了出来，坐在了一张摇摇晃晃的椅子上。哈利拉上了窗帘，把隐身衣从他和罗恩身上掀开。他们听见了楼下招待重新闩好门，爬上楼梯的声音。
　　哈利注意到了放在壁炉架的顶上的一样东西：一面长方形的小镜子被，就在那幅女孩画像的正下方。
　　招待走了进来。
　　“你们这些蠢蛋，”他看了看他们，粗声粗气地说，“你们到底在想什么？竟然到这儿来！”
　　“谢谢，”哈利说，“真是感谢不尽，你救了我们的命！”
　　招待咕哝着说着什么。哈利靠近他，透过长长的、绳子似的灰色头发和胡须，仔细地瞧着他的脸。。他带着一副眼镜。脏兮兮的镜片后面藏着一双敏锐的、充满智慧的蓝色眼睛。
　　“原来我在镜子里看到的是你的眼睛。”
　　屋子里很静。哈利和招待对视着。
　　“是你让多比来的。”
　　招待点了点头，然后四顾着找那个家养小精灵。
　　“我以为他会跟你们在一起。你们把他留在哪儿了？”
　　“他死了，”哈利说，“被贝拉特里克斯·莱斯特兰奇杀死了。”
　　招待面无表情，过了一小会儿，他说：“太可惜了，我一直很喜欢那个小家伙。”
　　他转过身去，用魔杖戳了一下灯，把它点亮，不去看任何人。
　　“你是阿不福思吧？”哈利对着那个男人的后背说。
　　招待没有回答他，弯下腰去点炉火。
　　“你怎么弄到这个的？”哈利走向屋子里那面天狼星魔镜，问道。这面镜子和他在将近两年之前打碎的那面是一对。
　　“一年前，我从老邓那儿买的，”阿不福思说，“阿不思跟我说了这是什么玩意儿。从那以后我就一直关注着你。”
　　罗恩深吸了一口气。
　　“银色的雌鹿，”他激动地说，“也是你吗？”
　　“你在说什么？”阿不福思问道。
　　“有人为我们召唤了一个雌鹿守护神！”
　　“你这个脑子，都能去做食死徒了，孩子。你没看到我刚才演示了我的守护神是一只山羊吗？”
　　“哦，”罗恩嘀咕着，他的肚子发了很大的咕噜声，他趁机说，“嗯……那个……我饿了！”
　　“我这儿有吃的。”阿不福思说着走出房间，过一会儿回来了，手里拿着一大条面包、一些奶酪和一锡壶蜂蜜酒，把它们放到了炉火前面的一张小桌子上。
　　他们贪婪地吃着喝着，有那么一会儿功夫，只有狼吞虎咽的声音。
　　吃饱以后，哈利和罗恩一屁股坐下来，懒洋洋地靠在了椅子背上，阿不福思说：“现在，我们得想个好主意让你们离开这儿。晚上不行，你们也看到有人要趁夜色出门是什么后果了：一旦触发了宵禁咒，他们就会像护树罗锅看到了狐媚子蛋一样向你们扑过来。我可不敢保证下一次我还能把牡鹿说成是山羊来蒙混过关。等到天一亮，宵禁结束的时候，你们就披上你们的隐身衣徒步离开霍格莫德，走到大山里面去，在那儿你们就可以幻影移形了。你们可能会见到海格，从被追捕的时候开始，他就带着格洛普一直藏在一个山洞里。”
　　“我们不走，”哈利说，“我们要到霍格沃茨去。”
　　“别犯傻了，孩子。”阿不福思说。
　　“我们必须去。”哈利说。
　　“你们必须做的，”阿不福思探过身去说，“是离开这儿，越远越好。”
　　“你不明白，时间不多了。我们必须进到城堡里去，邓布利多——我是说，你的弟弟——需要我们……”
　　壁炉发出的火光使得阿不福思的肮脏的眼镜片顷刻间变得不透明了，泛着白色漫射，让哈利想起了巨蜘蛛阿拉戈克瞎了的双眼。
　　“我哥哥阿不思总是需要这样那样的东西，”阿不福思说，“他的那些伟大的计划总是会让一些人受伤。波特，你要马上离开这个学校，如果可以的话，离开这个国家。忘掉我哥哥和他那些自作聪明的计划吧，他已经去了一个没有什么能伤害他的地方，你也不欠他什么了。”
　　“你不明白……”哈利重复道。
　　“哦？我不明白？”阿不福思平静地说，“你觉得我会不明白我自己的哥哥吗？你觉得你比我还了解阿不思吗？”
　　“我不是那个意思，”哈利回答道。他吃喝得太多，脑子有些疲倦。
　　“其实……他交给了我一项任务。”
　　“任务？”阿不福思问道，“是份好差事吧，我希望？令人愉快？轻松容易？是那种指望一个不够格的小巫师没等好好锻炼自己就能完成的事？”
　　罗恩挤出一个难看的笑容，赫敏看起来很紧张。
　　“我——不，这并不轻松，”哈利说，“但是我必须——”
　　“必须？为什么必须？他已经死了，不是么？”阿不福思粗声说，“放弃吧，孩子。在你落得像他一样的下场以前，先救救你自己吧！”
　　“我不能这样。”
　　“为什么不能？”
　　“我——”哈利很受打击，不知道该怎么辩解，于是他以攻为守，“但你不也是在奋斗吗？你是凤凰社的一员……”
　　“我曾经是，”阿不福思说，“但凤凰社已经不存在了。神秘人赢了，一切都结束了。任何不这样认为的人都是在欺骗自己罢了。你在这儿永远不会安全的，他们太渴望找到你了。所以，听我的，快点出国去吧，去藏起来，保护好自己，最好带上他们俩。”他用大拇指指了指罗恩和赫敏。
　　“谁都知道他们是你的死党，所以他们现在也不安全。”
　　“我不能走，”哈利说，“我还有任务……”
　　“把它留给别人！”
　　“不行，必须要我来做。邓布利多都向我解释了……”
　　“哦，是吗？那他把所有的事情都告诉你了吗？他没有隐瞒什么吗？”
　　哈利打心眼儿里想要说“是”，但是这个“是”字却怎么也说不出口。阿不福思似乎看出了他在想什么。
　　“我了解我的哥哥，波特。他从小就会保守秘密。秘密和谎言，我们就是这样长大的。阿不思……他在这方面绝对是个天才。”
　　老人的眼神移向壁炉架上方挂着的女孩画像。哈利现在才发现，这是整个屋子里唯一的一幅画。即没有阿不思·邓布利多的照片，也没有其他什么人的。
　　“邓布利多先生，”赫敏小心翼翼地说，“那是你的妹妹吗？阿瑞娜？”
　　“是。”阿不福思简单地答道。“你读过丽塔斯基特的文章了，小姐？”
　　虽然炉火发出的光线很暗，但还是可以清楚地看出赫敏的脸变红了。
　　“埃非亚·多戈跟我们提到过她。”哈利替赫敏辩解道。
　　“那个老家伙，”阿不福思嘀咕着，喝了一大口蜂蜜酒，“他以为我哥哥是最杰出的人。很多人，包括你们三个，也都这样想。但他只是看起来杰出而已。”
　　哈利没说什么。他不想表达这几个月来一直困扰着他的对邓布利多的质疑和不信任。在给多比挖坟墓的时候，他就下了决心，不管阿不思·邓布利多指引给他的这条路有多么崎岖和危险，他都要要坚持下去；虽然他还并不知道所有他想要的答案，但只要简单的信任就好。他再也不想怀疑了，不想听到任何会让他动摇的劝诫。他发现阿不福思凝视着他，那明亮的、能看穿一切的眼睛简直和他哥哥的一模一样。哈利觉得阿不福思看出了他的想法，并且很不以为然。
　　“邓布利多教授非常关心哈利。”赫敏小声说道。
　　“是么？”阿不福思说，“真有趣。多少人都因为他的关心落得了更糟糕的下场。”
　　“你什么意思？”赫敏气喘吁吁地问道。
　　“不用你管。”阿不福思回答道。
　　“可这事关重大！”赫敏说，“难道……是你们的妹妹？”
　　阿不福思瞪着她，嘴唇动了动，像是在把刚到嘴边的话嚼碎了一样，随后冲口出而：
　　“我妹妹六岁的时候，被三个麻瓜男孩攻击了。他们透过后花园的篱笆看到了她用魔法。她还是个孩子，她不会控制自己——没有哪个巫师在那么小的年纪能控制住自己。我猜他们看到以后是吓坏了。他们越过篱笆，还没等她给他们展示她的戏法，他们就像疯了一样阻止了她这个小怪胎。”
　　在火光中，赫敏的眼睛睁得大大的；罗恩看起来有点不舒服。阿不福思站了起来，跟他哥哥差不多高，突然间充满了巨大的愤怒和极大的痛苦。
　　“他们所做的事情毁了她：从那以后，她再也没正常过。她不肯用魔法，但却摆脱不掉它；它吞噬了她的内心，让她彻底疯掉了。当不受控制的时候，它又爆发出来，让她变得相当陌生和危险……但大部分时间里，她还是相当可爱的，胆小而没有敌意。”
　　“我父亲找到了那几个混蛋，”阿不福思接着说，“还教训了他们。结果他因此被关在了阿兹卡班。他从来没说出这么做的原因，因为如果魔法部知道了阿瑞娜变成了什么样子，她将要永远被关在圣芒戈了。他们认为如果她体内的魔法不受控制地爆发出来，对于《国际保密法》将会是相当大的挑战。”
　　“我们不得不给她找个安全的地方休养。于是我们搬了家，跟别人说她病了。我妈妈一直照看着她，尽可能让她每天安安静静，开开心心的。”
　　“她最喜欢我了，”
　　阿不福思满是皱纹，须发纠结的脸看起来就象一个脏兮兮的校园男生，“而不是阿不思，他在家时总是躲在自己的屋子里看书，数着他那些奖状，为了成为‘当代最著名的名字’之一。”
　　阿不福思继续说道：“他从来不为她操心。她最听我的话了，不愿意吃饭的时候，我总能帮我妈妈哄她吃下去。她发脾气的时候，我能让她平静下来；而当她听话的时候我们就一起喂山羊。”
　　“在那之后，她十四岁的时候……唉，当时我不在场，”阿不福思说，“如果我在，我一定能止住她的……她爆发了，我妈妈不如她年轻，然后……出了一点小事故，阿瑞娜没控制住自己，结果我妈妈死了。”
　　哈利的心中既有点同情，又有些排斥。他不想再听下去了，但是阿不福思不停地说着，哈利不知道他说了有多久，事实上，甚至不知道他说了些什么。
　　“这件事耽误了阿不思和小多戈的环球旅行，他们俩回到家来参加妈妈的葬礼。之后多戈自己走了，阿不思留下来当一家之主，呸！”
　　阿不福思向火里吐了一口唾沫。
　　“我跟他说，我要留在家里照顾妹妹，不上学也没关系。他说我必须完成学业，他会接替妈妈来照顾妹妹。让这么有才华的人天天照顾自己那疯疯癫癫的妹妹，阻止她隔三差五就把房子炸个底朝天，还真是有些屈才。不过不管怎么说，开头的几周他做的倒是还好……直到那个人出现。”
　　阿不福思脸上渐渐露出吓人的表情。
　　“格林沃德。终于，我哥哥找到了和他一样聪明有才华的、志同道合的人。他们谈论的话题从建立新的巫师组织的计划，到寻找圣物，到一切他们感兴趣的事物，而照看阿瑞娜已经变得次要了。阿不思做的是伟大的事业，他忽视了一个小女孩，和造福巫师界的宏伟计划比起来，算得了什么呢？”
　　“但是，过了几周，我实在不能忍了。快要到我回霍格沃茨的日子了，所以我对他们说——对他们俩，面对面地，就像我现在对你们一样，”阿不福思低头看着哈利。可以想象他年轻的时候，生气地面对着他哥哥时瘦瘦高高的样子。
　　“我告诉他，你最好马上放手，你不能这样对待她。她还没康复，不管你打算去哪，你都不能带着她；你每次去做你那些聪明的演讲的时候，不能驱赶着她象个跟班一样跟着你。不过这让他很不高兴。”阿不福思说。他的双眼又一次被眼镜片反射的火光所淹没，闪现出一片白色，像瞎了一样。“格林沃德更不高兴。他很生气，说我是个愚蠢的小孩，竟然妨碍他和我的天才哥哥的计划……我真不明白等他们改变了世界，巫师们也不用想办法隐蔽了，麻瓜们也能学得规规矩矩了……我可怜的妹妹就不用再东躲西藏了？”
　　“我们吵了起来……我拿出了魔杖，他也拿出了魔杖。他——我哥哥最好的朋友，对我用了钻心咒，阿不思想要阻止他，但随后我们三个展开了混战。闪烁的光线和噼啪的响声刺激到了我妹妹，她实在不能忍受了……”
　　阿不福思像是受到了致命的伤痛，脸色越来越苍白。
　　“……我猜她是要帮忙，但她大概也不清楚自己要做什么。我不知道是我们当中的谁造成了这场悲剧——谁都有可能。总之她死了。”
　　说到最后，阿不福思的嗓子已经哑了。他一屁股瘫坐在旁边的椅子上。赫敏已是泪流满面，而罗恩的脸几乎变得和阿不福思一样地惨白。哈利感到厌恶极了，他真希望自己压根没听到这些话，恨不得把这段记忆消除。
　　“这真是……真是太悲惨了……”赫敏低声说。
　　“她走了……”阿不福思沙哑地说道，“再也回不来了。”
　　他用袖口擦了下鼻涕，清了清嗓子。
　　“当然，格林沃德跑了。他在自己国家的时候就有过一些不良记录，他可不想把阿瑞娜的死也算到他的账上。阿不思倒是解脱了，不是么？甩掉了妹妹这么大的一个负担，他可以安心做他的‘最伟大的巫师’……”
　　“他从来没有解脱过。”哈利打断了他。
　　“你说什么？”阿不福思说。
　　“从来没有。”哈利说，“你哥哥死的那个晚上，他喝了一种令他发疯的药。他开始尖叫，向某个虚幻的人恳求着：‘请不要伤害他们……我愿意替他们承受这一切……’”
　　罗恩和赫敏睁大眼睛看着哈利。他从来没跟他们详细讲过他和邓布利多在湖中小岛上发生了什么：自他跟邓布利多回到霍格沃滋以后，事情是怎么发生的已经被完全盖过了。
　　“我知道，他回到了和你还有格林沃德在一起时的幻觉当中。”哈利说着，回想起邓布利多自言自语的，苦苦哀求的样子。
　　“他仿佛看到格林沃德伤害了你和阿瑞娜……这对他是一种折磨。如果你看到他那个时候的样子，你就不会说他解脱了。”
　　阿不福思把脸埋进他那苍老而嶙峋的双手，陷入了沉思。过了很长时间，他说：“波特，你怎么敢确定，比起你，我哥哥不会更关心他那伟大的事业？你怎么敢说，你对于他不会像我妹妹那样，可有可无？”
　　哈利的心里像是被尖冰刺穿了一样。
　　“我不信。邓布利多从来都很喜欢哈利。”赫敏说。
　　“那他怎么不让他躲起来？”阿不福思反驳道，“他怎么不跟他说，‘你要小心，我来教你怎么才能活下去’？”
　　“因为，”还没等赫敏回答，哈利说，“有的时候你不能只顾自己的安危！有的时候你必须去想想那个伟大的事业！这是一场战争！”
　　“可你才十七岁啊，孩子！”
　　“我已经成年了，即便你放弃了，我也要继续战斗！”
　　“谁说我放弃了？”
　　“凤凰社已经不存在了。”哈利重复着阿不福思刚才说过的话，“神秘人赢了，一切都结束了。任何不这样认为的人都是在欺骗自己罢了。”
　　“我不希望这样，但这是事实！”
　　“不，这不是。”哈利说，“你哥哥很清楚怎样才能打败神秘人，现在他把这些知识传给了我。我要一直继续下去，直到成功——或者死去。不要以为我不知道这一切会如何结束，很久以前我就知道了。”
　　他以为阿不福思会嘲笑他，或者会跟他争辩，但是他没有。他只是动了动身子。
　　“我们必须到霍格沃茨去。”哈利又说了一遍，“如果你帮不上我们，我们会等到天亮离开这儿，自己想办法进到霍格沃茨去。如果你能帮忙——那么，最好现在就告诉我们。”
　　阿不福思坐在椅子里没动，用那双像极了他哥哥的眼睛凝视着哈利。最后他清了清嗓子，站了起来，绕过小桌子走到阿瑞娜的画像跟前。
　　“你知道怎么做。”
　　她笑了笑，转身走开了。她并不是象一般画像里的人那样从一侧走出画框，而是沿着身后像是画出来的一条长长的通道离去。他们看着她的身影一点点变小，最后消失在黑暗之中。
　　“呃……怎么……”罗恩打破沉寂。
　　“现在只有一个办法能进去。”阿不福思说，“但你们应该知道，他们守住了所有秘密通道的出入口，墙外到处都是摄魂怪，据我得到的消息，学校里面还有日常的巡逻。那儿从来没被这么严密地把守过。斯内普负责里头的一切，还有卡卢兄妹做他的跟班，呃……那是专为你们设的监视哨，不是吗？你说你已经有赴死的觉悟了。”
　　“但是怎么……”赫敏对着阿瑞娜的画像皱着眉头问道。
　　一个小白点又出现在了画中通道的尽头，阿瑞娜一步一步走向他们，看起来变得越来越大。但这次她领着另外一个人。这个人个头比她高，走路一瘸一拐的，看起来很兴奋的样子。他的头发比哈利见过的所有人都要长。随着他们越走越近，身影越来越大，模样也渐渐显现出来，直到画框里只剩下他们的头和肩膀。
　　随后，整幅画像一扇小门一样打开了，门后露出了一个真正的密道入口。而眼前爬出来的这个头发长乱，脸颊瘦削，衣衫褴褛的人，竟是真正的纳威
　　隆巴顿！他高兴得大叫了一声，跳下壁炉架，大声说：
　　“哈利！我就知道你会来的！”　
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Chapter 27 The Final Hiding Place
There was no means of steering; the dragon could not see where it was going, and Harry knew that if it turned sharply or rolled in midair they would find it impossible to cling onto its broad back. Nevertheless, as they climbed higher and higher, London unfurling below them like a gray-and-green map, Harry’s overwhelming feeling was of gratitude for an escape that had seemed impossible. Crouching low over the beast’s neck, he clung tight to the metallic scales, and the cool breeze was soothing on his burned and blistered skin, the dragon’s wings beating the air like the sails of a windmill. Behind him, whether from delight or fear he could not tell. Ron kept swearing at the top of his voice, and Hermione seemed to be sobbing.
After five minutes or so, Harry lost some of his immediate dread that the dragon was going to throw them off, for it seemed intent on nothing but getting as far away from its underground prison as possible; but the question of how and when they were to dismount remained rather frightening. He had no idea how long dragons could fly without landing, nor how this particular dragon, which could barely see, would locate a good place to put down. He glanced around constantly, imagining that he could feel his seat prickling.
How long would it be before Voldemort knew that they had broken into the Lestranges’ vault? How soon would the goblins of Gringotts notify Bellatrix? How quickly would they realize what had been taken? And then, when they discovered that the golden cup was missing? Voldemort would know, at last, that they were hunting Horcruxes.
The dragon seemed to crave cooler and fresher air. It climbed steadily until they were flying through wisps of chilly cloud, and Harry could no longer make out the little colored dots which were cars pouring in and out of the capital. On and on they flew, over countryside parceled out in patches of green and brown, over roads and rivers winding through the landscape like strips of matte and glossy ribbon.
“What do you reckon it’s looking for?” Ron yelled as they flew farther and farther north.
“No idea,” Harry bellow back. His hands were numb with cold but he did not date attempt to shift his grip. He had been wondering for some time what they would do if they saw the coast sail beneath them, if the dragon headed for open seal he was cold and numb, not to mention desperately hungry and thirsty. When, he wondered, had the beast itself last eaten? Surely it would need sustenance before long? And what if, at that point, it realized it had three highly edible humans sitting on its back?
The sun slipped lower in the sky, which was turning indigo; and still the dragon flew, cities and towns gliding out of sight beneath them, its enormous shadow sliding over the earth like a giant dark cloud. Every part of Harry ached with the effort of holding on to the dragon’s back.
“Is it my imagination,” shouted Ron after a considerable stretch of silence, “or are we losing height?”
Harry looked down and saw deep green mountains and lakes, coppery in the sunset. the landscape seemed to grow larger and more detailed as he squinted over the side of the dragon, and he wondered whether it had divined the presence of fresh water by the flashes of reflected sunlight.
Lower and lower the dragon flew, in great spiraling circles, honing in, it seemed, upon one of the smaller lakes.
“I say we jump when it gets low enough!” Harry called back to the others. “Straight into the water before it realizes we’re here!”
They agreed, Hermione a little faintly, and now Harry could see the dragon’s wide yellow underbelly rippling in the surface of the water.
“NOW!”
He slithered over the side of the dragon and plummeted feetfirst toward the surface of the lake; the drop was greater than he had estimated and he hit the water hard, plunging like a stone into a freezing, green, reed-filled world. He kicked toward the surface and emerged, panting, to see enormous ripples emanating in circles from the places where Ron and Hermione had fallen. The dragon did not seem to have noticed anything; it was already fifty feet away, swooping low over the lake to scoop up water in its scarred snout. As Ron and Hermione emerged, spluttering and gasping, from the depths of the lake, the dragon flew on, its wings beating hard, and landed at last on a distant bank.
Harry, Ron and Hermione struck out for the opposite shore. The lake did not seem to be deep. Soon it was more a question of fighting their way through reeds and mud than swimming, and at last they flopped, sodden, panting, and exhausted, onto slippery grass.
Hermione collapsed, coughing and shuddering. Though Harry could have happily lain down and slept, he staggered to his feet, drew out his wand, and started casting the usual protective spells around them.
When he had finished, he joined the others. It was the first time that he had seen them properly since escaping from the vault. Both had angry red burns all over their faces and arms, and their clothing was singed away in places. They were wincing as they dabbed essence of dittany onto their many injuries. Hermione handed Harry the bottle, then pulled out three bottles of pumpkin juice she had brought from Shell Cottage and clean, dry robes for all of them. They changes and then gulped down the juice.
“Well, on the upside,” said Ron finally, who was sitting watching the skin on his hands regrow, “we got the Horcrux. On the downside-”
“– no sword,” said Harry through gritted teeth, as he dripped dittany through the singed hole in his jeans onto the angry burn beneath.
“No sword,” repeated Ron. “That double-crossing little scab…”
Harry pulled the Horcrux from the pocket of the wet jacket he had just taken off and set it down on the grass in front of them. Glinting in the sun, it drew their eyes as they swigged their bottles of juice.
“At least we can’t wear it this time, that’d look a bit weird hanging around our necks,” said Ron, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
Hermione looked across the lake to the far bank where the dragon was still drinking.
“What’ll happen to it, do you think?” she asked, “Will it be alright?”
“You sound like Hagrid,” said Ron, “It’s a dragon, Hermione, it can look after itself. It’s us we need to worry about.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well I don’t know how to break this to you,” said Ron, “but I think they might have noticed we broke into Gringotts.”
All three of them started to laugh, and once started, it was difficult to stop. Harry’s ribs ached, he felt lightheaded with hunger, but he lay back on the grass beneath the reddening sky and laughed until his throat was raw.
“What are we going to do, though?” said Hermione finally, hiccuping herself back to seriousness. “He’ll know, won’t he? You-Know-Who will know we know about his Horcruxes!”
“Maybe they’ll be too scared to tell him!” said Ron hopefully, “Maybe they’ll cover up –”
The sky, the smell of the lake water, the sound of Ron’s voice were extinguished. Pain cleaved Harry’s head like a sword stroke.

He was standing in a dimly lit room, and a semicircle of wizards faced him, and on the floor at his feet knelt a small, quaking figure.
“What did you say to me?” His voice was high and cold, but fury and fear burned inside him. The one thing that he had dreaded – but it could not be true, he could not see how…
The goblin was trembling, unable to meet the red eyes high above his.
“Say it again!” murmured Voldemort. “Say it again!”
“M-my Lord,” stammered the goblin, its black eyes wide with terror, “m-my Lord… we t-tried to st-stop them… Im-impostors, my Lord… broke -broke into the – into the Lestranges’ vault…”
“Impostors? What impostors? I thought Gringotts had ways of revealing impostors? Who were they?”
“It was… it was… the P-Potter b-boy and the t-two accomplices…”
“And they took?” he said, his voice rising, a terrible fear gripping him, “Tell me! What did they take?”
“A… a s-small golden c-cup m-my Lord…”
The scream of rage, of denial left him as if it were a stranger’s. He was crazed, frenzied, it could not be true, it was impossible, nobody had known. How was it possible that the boy could have discovered his secret?
The Elder Wand slashed through the air and green light erupted through the room; the kneeling goblin rolled over dead; the watching wizards scattered before him, terrified. Bellatrix and Lucius Malfoy threw others behind them in their race for the door, and again and again his wand fell, and those who were left were slain, all of them, for bringing him this news, for hearing about the golden cup - Alone amongst the dead he stomped up and down, and they passed before him in vision: his treasures, his safeguards, his anchors to immortality – the diary was destroyed and the cup was stolen. What if, what if, the boy knew about the others? Could he know, had he already acted, had he traced more of them? Was Dumbledore at the root of this? Dumbledore, who had always suspected him; Dumbledore, dead on his orders; Dumbledore, whose wand was his now, yet who reached out from the ignominy of death through the boy, the boy -
But surely if the boy had destroyed any of his Horcruxes, he, Lord Voldemort, would have known, would have felt it? He, the greatest wizard of them all; he, the most powerful; he, the killer of Dumbledore and of how many other worthless, nameless men. How could Lord Voldemort not have known, if he, himself, most important and precious, had been attacked, mutilated?
True, he had not felt it when the diary had been destroyed, but he had thought that was because he had no body to fell, being less than ghost… No, surely, the rest were safe… The other Horcruxes must be intact…
But he must know, he must be sure… He paced the room, kicking aside the goblin’s corpse as he passed, and the pictures blurred and burned in his boiling brain: the lake, the shack, and Hogwarts -
A modicum of calm cooled his rage now. How could the boy know that he had hidden the ring in the Gaunt shack? No one had ever known him to be related to the Gaunts, he had hidden the connection, the killings had never been traced to him. The ring, surely, was safe.
And how could the boy, or anybody else, know about the cave or penetrate its protection? The idea of the locket being stolen was absurd…
As for the school: He alone knew where in Hogwarts he had stowed the Horcrux, because he alone had plumed the deepest secrets of that place…
And there was still Nagini, who must remain close now, no longer sent to do his bidding, under his protection…
But to be sure, to be utterly sure, he must return to each of his hiding places, he must redouble protection around each of his Horcruxes… A job, like the quest for the Elder Wand, that he must undertake alone…
Which should he visit first, which was in most danger? An old unease flickered inside him. Dumbledore had known his middle name… Dumbledore might have made the connection with the Gaunts… Their abandoned home was, perhaps, the least secure of his hiding places, it was there that he would go first…
The lake, surely impossible… though was there a slight possibility that Dumbledore might have known some of his past misdeeds, through the orphanage.
And Hogwarts… but he knew the his Horcrux there was safe; it would be impossible for Potter to enter Hogsmeade without detection, let alone the school. Nevertheless, it would be prudent to alert Snape to the fact that the boy might try to reenter the castle…. To tell Snape why the boy might return would be foolish, of course; it had been a grave mistake to trust Bellatrix and Malfoy. Didn’t their stupidity and carelessness prove how unwise it was ever to trust?
He would visit the Gaunt shack first, then, and take Nagini with him. He would not be parted from the snake anymore… and he strode from the room, through the hall, and out into the dark garden where the fountain played; he called the snake in Parseltongue and it slithered out to join him like a long shadow….

Harry’s eyes flew open as he wrenched himself back to the present. He was lying on the bank of the lake in the setting sun, and Ron and Hermione were looking down at him. Judging by their worried looks, and by the continued pounding of his scar, his sudden excursion into Voldemort’s mind had not passed unnoticed. He struggled up, shivering, vaguely surprised that he was still wet to his skin, and saw the cup lying innocently in the grass before him, and the lake, deep blue shot with gold in the falling sun.
“He knows.” His own voice sounded strange and low after Voldemort’s high screams. “He knows and he’s going to check where the others are, and the last one,” he was already on his feet, “is at Hogwarts. I knew it. I knew it.”
“What?”
Ron was gaping at him; Hermione sat up, looking worried.
“But what did you see? How do you know?”
“I saw him find out about the cup, I – I was in his head, he’s” – Harry remembered the killings – “he’s seriously angry, and scared too, he can’t understand how we knew, and now he’s going to check the others are safe, the ring first. He things the Hogwarts one is safest, because Snape’s there, because it’ll be so hard not to be seen getting in. I think he’ll check that one last, but he could still be there within hours – ”
“Did you see where in Hogwarts it is?” asked Ron, now scrambling to his feet too.
“No, he was concentrating on warning Snape, he didn’t think about exactly where it is – ”
“Wait, wait!” cried Hermione as Ron caught up to the Horcrux and Harry pulled out the Invisibility Cloak again. “We can’t just go, we haven’t got a plan, we need to – ”
“We need to get going,” said Harry firmly. He had been hoping to sleep, looking forward to getting into the new tent, but that was impossible now, “Can you imagine what he’s going to do once he realizes the ring and the locket are gone? What if he moves the Hogwarts Horcrux, decides it isn’t safe enough?”
“But how are we going to get in?”
“We’ll go to Hogsmeade,” said Harry, “and try to work something out once we see what the protection around the school’s like. Get under the Cloak, Hermione, I want to stick together this time.”
“But we don’t really fit – ”
“It’ll be dark, no one’s going to notice our feet.”
The flapping of enormous wings echoed across the black water. The dragon had drunk its fill and risen into the air. They paused in their preparations to watch it climb higher and higher, now black against the rapidly darkening sky, until it vanished over a nearby mountain. Then Hermione walked forward and took her place between the other two, Harry pulled the Cloak down as far as it would go, and together they turned on the spot into the crushing darkness.
他们根本没有办法控制方向，连这条龙自己都不知道要往哪去。哈利知道，一旦这条龙来个急转弯或者在空中打个滚，他们就很难紧贴住它那宽阔的脊背了。他们在空中越飞越高，伦敦在他们下面铺展开来，看起来像一张灰绿相间的双色地图。哈利不可抑制地感激着这次能从绝境中逃脱。他低低地蜷缩在这怪兽的颈下，紧贴着那金属般的表皮，凉爽的微风抚慰着他灼伤出水泡的皮肤，巨龙扑打着空气的双翼像是一对风车的叶片。在他的身后，不知道是因为高兴还是恐惧，罗恩一直在大声地咒骂，而赫敏似乎一直在哭泣。
　　大约过了五分钟，哈利便不再担心会被龙甩飞了，它一直往前飞，看起来只想离那地下监狱越远越好；但他们要什么时候下去，怎么下去，这仍然使人感到担忧。他不知道龙不着陆一次可以飞多远，也不清楚这只十分罕见的龙会选个什么样的地方着陆。他不时地四处张望着，隐隐觉得他的伤疤正在刺痛着……伏地魔什么时候会知道他们侵入了莱斯特兰奇家族的金库？古灵阁的妖精们需要多久去通报贝拉特里克斯？他们要多久才会知道被偷走了什么？他们什么时候才会发现金杯失踪了？最后，伏地魔就会知道，他们在寻找魂器。
　　巨龙似乎渴望更凉爽清新的空气，它缓慢上升着，穿越了一缕缕寒冷的云朵，哈利再也看不清楚那些五颜六色的、穿梭于城市内外的车辆了。他们就这样飞过了绿褐色的一块块村庄，飞过了那些蜿蜒在地面上的公路、河流，它们看起来像是一条条或粗糙或光滑的丝带。
　　“你说它在找什么呐？”罗恩高声喊道，他们正在向北越飞越远。
　　“不知道。”哈利向身后吼道。他紧握的双手已冻得失去了知觉，动也不敢动。他思考了一会儿，如果这条龙飞到海上，他们要怎么办？他现在被冻得全身麻木，而且又饿又渴。他突然想知道，这条巨兽最后一次吃饭是什么时候？它一定在不久之后就得进食吧？还有，如果那个时候它知道了背后有三个可以吃的人类，那会怎么样？
　　太阳在越发靛青的天空中低低得移动着；龙依然飞着，下面的城镇出现在了视线里，巨兽的影子在地面滑行着，像极了一朵庞大的乌云。哈利浑身都因极力紧贴住巨龙的背而隐隐作痛。
　　“这是幻觉吗？”罗恩在一段长时间的沉默后叫喊道，“莫非我们是在下降？”
　　哈利向下看去，那些深绿的高山和湖泊，在夕阳的印照下显出古铜般的颜色。他从巨龙的一侧斜看望去，陆地逐渐变大，变清晰了，哈利想是湖水反射了阳光，放出这种刺眼的光芒。
　　巨龙在其中一个较小的湖上空盘旋着，越飞越低。 “我们等它飞得够低了就跳！”哈利对后面的人喊道，“在它发现我们之前，直接跳进水里去！”
　　他们同意了，赫敏有些虚弱。这时哈利看到火龙那宽大的下腹开始在水面上滑行。
　　“趁现在！”
　　他从巨龙的一边滑了下去，脚先触水笔直地掉了下去，入水的冲击比预料中要强烈一些，他像块石头一样掉进这个冰冷、长满芦苇的绿色世界。他踩着水向上游，冲出湖面喘了口气，然后看到罗恩和赫敏落水的地方激起的层层波纹，一圈圈地荡漾开去。龙似乎什么都没发觉；这会儿离他们已经有五十英尺远了，它在湖面上空低低地俯冲，用它伤痕累累的嘴巴舀起湖水。当罗恩和赫敏从水底冒出来咳嗽喘息的时候，巨龙飞了起来，它奋力拍着翅膀，就近在一块浅滩上着了陆。
　　哈利、罗恩和赫敏则从另一边上了岸。湖水并不深，但是和在水中游泳相比，从芦苇丛和烂泥地里劈出一条道来是更加严重的问题。终于，他们拖着湿透了的身子，精疲力竭、气喘吁吁地倒在了光滑的草地上。
　　赫敏快虚脱了，一边咳嗽一边发抖。哈利本可以高兴地躺下好好睡一觉，但他依然颤颤巍巍地站了起来，拿出魔杖，像往常一样在周围施下保护咒语。
　　当他做完后，来到另外两个人身边。从金库逃跑出来以后，这是他第一次好好地看看他的伙伴们，罗恩和赫敏的脸上和手都上火红火红的，衣服上被烧出了好几个洞。哈利拿薄荷花香精涂在他们的伤口上时，他们痛苦地颤缩着。赫敏递给哈利一个瓶子，然后倒出了三杯从贝壳小屋里带出来的南瓜汁，拿出大家的干衣服。他们换了衣服，然后一口喝光了果汁。
　　罗恩坐着看自己新长出的皮肤，开口说道：“好事情是我们拿到了魂器，但糟糕的是……”
　　“却没有了剑，”哈利咬着牙说，他把薄荷花香精从牛仔裤上烧出的洞里滴在火辣辣的伤口上。
　　“没有剑，”罗恩重复道，“那个骗人的混蛋……”
　　哈利从湿透的夹克口袋里把魂器拿出来，放在面前的草地上。在阳光的照耀下，魂器熠熠闪烁着，他们喝完饮料后，紧紧地盯着那个魂器。
　　“现在我们不能把它戴在身上了，让这个东西挂在脖子上会很奇怪，”罗恩说着，用手背擦干嘴巴。
　　赫敏向遥远的湖泊对岸望去，巨龙还在那儿喝水。
　　“你们觉得，它会怎么样？”她问道，“它还好吗？”
　　“你听起来真像海格，”罗恩说，“那是一条龙，赫敏。它能照顾它自己。现在该担心的是我们自己。”
　　“你是什么意思？”
　　“噢，我不知道该怎么和你说这事儿，”罗恩说，“但我想他们恐怕已经注意到我们闯进古灵阁了。”
　　他们三人都笑了，这一笑就一发不可收拾。哈利的肋骨剧痛起来，他已经饿得六神无主，昏昏沉沉了，在那片渐渐发红的天空下，他躺在草地上，一个劲地笑着，直到喉咙有撕裂般得疼痛了才停下来。
　　“我们接下来怎么办？”赫敏说，她严肃的咳了一声，“他总会知道的，不是吗？神秘人会发现我们知道了关于他的魂器的事儿！”
　　“可能他们会害怕而不敢告诉他！”罗恩抱着最后一丝希望地说，“可能他们会把这一切都掩盖起来……”
　　天空，湖水的味道，罗恩的声音一下都消失了。疼痛像是一把刀生生将哈利的脑袋劈开了。他站在一个昏暗的房间里，一群巫师在他面前呈半圆形排开，他的脚下，跪着一个正在发抖的影子。
　　“你刚才对我说了什么？”他的声音是如此高昂而冰冷，但他的内心却燃烧着狂怒和恐惧。他最为惧怕的一件事，居然……那一定不是真的，他不知道他们怎么会……
　　那妖精颤抖着，不敢仰视那猩红的眼睛。
　　“给我再说一遍！”伏地魔低沉地说道，“给我再说一遍！”
　　“我，我的主人，”妖精尖叫着，他的黑眼睛因恐惧而睁得大大的，“我，我的主人，我们试，试过阻止他，他们……冒，冒充者，我，我的主人……他们闯，闯进……进入了莱斯特兰奇家的金库……”
　　“冒充者？什么冒充者？我还以为古灵阁有好多办法揭露出冒充者呢。他们是些什么人？”
　　“是，是波，波特男，男孩和两，两个同伙……”
　　“他们拿了？”他说，声调提高了，心里徒然升起一阵恐惧，“告诉我！他们拿走了什么？”
　　“一，一个小，小的金杯，杯，我，我的主人。”
　　他发出了一声愤怒的尖叫声，这声音就象一个陌生人发出的。他发狂了，他被激怒了；这不可能是真的，不可能，没人知道。那个男孩怎么可能已经发现了他的秘密？
　　长老魔杖在空气中猛烈地挥动着，绿光在屋子里窜来窜去；跪着的小妖精蜷缩着死去了；那些旁观的巫师恐惧地从他面前散开；贝拉特里克斯和卢修斯·马尔福丢下其他人快步冲向门口；他的魔杖一次又一次落下，那些剩下的人都被杀死了，所有人，那些把这消息带给他的人，那些听到了金杯的人——
　　他独自一人在尸体中来回的踱着步，眼前闪过一幅幅画面：他的财宝，他的安全保障，他走向不朽的依靠——日记本被销毁了，金杯被偷走了。如果，如果这个男孩还知道其它几个魂器怎么办？如果他知道的话，他是不是已经采取行动了？他是不是已经找到了更多的魂器？邓布利多是不是这一切的始作佣者？邓布利多总是在怀疑他；邓布利多已经丧命于他的命令之下；邓布利多的魔杖现在是他的了；但是邓布利多让那个男孩免于遭受死亡的耻辱，那个男孩——
　　但是，如果这男孩确实已经销毁了他的某一个魂器，他，伏地魔会知道的，不是应该能感觉到吗？他，是最伟大的巫师；他，是最强大的巫师；他，是除掉了邓布利多和其它许多无用的无名氏的杀手。当自己最重要最宝贵的东西在遭到攻击和毁坏的时候，他伏地魔怎么可能会不知道？
　　然而事实上，在日记本被销毁时，他根本没有察觉到，可他认为是因为当时他跟个鬼魂差不多……没有身体可以感觉。不，一定的，其它的魂器是安全的。其它几个魂器绝对还没有人碰过……
　　但是，他必须知道，必须确定……他在房间里踱着步，经过小妖精的尸体时一脚把它踢开。一些画面在他脑海中翻江倒海地燃烧：湖，小屋，还有霍格沃茨——
　　现在他的怒火已经稍稍平息了。那男孩是怎么知道他把戒指藏在冈特小屋的？没有人知道他和冈特有关系，他已经把这种联系隐藏了起来，那些谋杀也从没有追查到他身上。那枚戒指，肯定，是安全的。
　　那个男孩，还是其他什么人，怎么可能会知道那个山洞或者闯过那些保护机关呢？那个挂坠盒被偷走的想法简直太荒谬了。
　　至于学校里的那个，只有他知道魂器在霍格沃茨的隐藏地点，更何况，那里有着让他引以为傲的只有他了解的秘密机关……
　　还有纳吉尼，它现在肯定还被关着，会一直处于他的保护之下，不再被派出来执行任务了。
　　不过可以肯定，而且势在必行的是，他必须回到他的每个藏匿地点，同时也必须加强每个魂器周围的保护措施……另外某些事情，比如寻找元老魔杖，他非得自己干不可……
　　那他应该先去哪呢？哪一个是最危险的？一种熟悉的不安感在他的心中摇曳，邓布利多已经知道了他的教名……邓布利多可能已经联想到了冈特家族……那所被遗弃的老宅，也许，是最不保险的一个藏匿地点，他应该最先去那里……
　　还有那个湖，肯定不可能……尽管邓布利多有一丝希望从孤儿院里了解到他过去的一些罪行。
　　霍格沃茨，他知道魂器在那里是安全的。波特不可能神不知鬼不觉地进入霍格莫德村，更不用说是学校了。然而，还是应该提醒斯内普，那个男孩会试图重新潜入城堡，这点还是得小心为妙……但他不会蠢到告诉斯内普那个男孩为什么要潜回学校，这种错误他已经在贝拉特里克斯和马尔福身上犯过了。难道他们的愚笨和大意还不足以证明对他俩曾经的信任是个多么错误的决策吗？
　　他会先去冈特老宅，而且会带着纳吉尼，他一刻也不会再和那条蛇分开了。他大步走过房间，穿过礼堂，踏入喷着喷泉的黑暗的花园里。
　　他用蛇佬腔唤来纳吉尼，它滑行着爬过来，像一条长长的影子似的跟他走了。
　　随着自己的意识重新被拉回现实，哈利慢慢睁开双眼。在夕阳的余辉下，自己正躺在湖岸边，两旁的罗恩和赫敏正关切地守候着他。从他们焦急的神情和自己伤疤那持续的疼痛感来看，他应该是在不知不觉中突然的进入了伏地魔的意识。他挣扎着想要站起身来，浑身颤抖，有些惊讶地发现自己全身上下还是湿的。在前面的草地上，他看到金杯孤零零的躺在那里，而远处深蓝色的湖面反射着落日余辉的点点金斑。
　　“他发现了，”在听过了伏地魔的高声狂吼之后，哈利自己的声音反倒听起来显得陌生而低沉，“他发现了我们的行动，而且现在正在赶去检查其它魂器，而那最后的一个，”哈利已经站了起来，“就藏在霍格沃兹。我知道，我知道……”
　　“什么？”
　　罗恩目瞪口呆的看着他；赫敏也坐了起来，看上去很不安。
　　“你刚才看到了什么？你怎么会知道？”
　　“我看到他发现了我们盗走金杯的事情，我——我就在他的大脑里，他非常的——”哈利记起了那些杀戮，“他非常的震怒，但也很恐惧。他不能理解为什么我们会知道魂器的事，他现在正赶去查看它们是否安全，首先是那枚戒指。他觉得霍格沃兹的那个是最安全的，一方面因为斯内普在那里守着，而另一方面也因为它藏得很隐秘，很难被找到。我觉得他肯定最后才去检查那个魂器，但他还是会在几小时内赶到那里。”
　　“那你看到它在霍格沃兹的什么地方了么？”罗恩问道，现在他也已经有些站不稳了。
　　“没有，他一心想要向斯内普示警，根本没去想那东西的确切位置——”
　　“等等，等一下！”此时，罗恩已经拿起魂器，哈利也重新掏出了隐身衣，赫敏见状喊道，“我们现在还不能去，我们还没有拟定个计划，我们需要——”
　　“我们需要现在动身，”哈利斩钉截铁的说。他原本想要钻进那个新帐篷里去睡一觉，但现在不可能了，“你能想象他一旦发现戒指和挂坠盒不见了以后会怎么做吗？如果他觉得霍格沃兹的魂器也不再万无一失而把它转移的话，我们该怎么办？”
　　“但我们现在该怎么潜进去呢？”
　　“去霍格莫德，”哈利说，“去那儿看看学校周围的保护措施，然后伺机冲进去，到隐身衣下面来，赫敏，这次我们要共同进退。”
　　“但是那太小了——”
　　“现在天已经很晚了，没人会去注意我们的脚。”
　　巨龙扇动翅膀的声音在漆黑的湖面上回响，它已经喝饱了，重新腾空而起。他们停下手里的准备工作，抬头看着巨龙越飞越高，黑色的身影很快被灰暗的天空所吞噬，消失在了不远处的山中。随后，赫敏走过去站在了罗恩和哈利之间，哈利尽可能地把隐身衣罩在大家身上，三个人一起幻影移形，进入了无边的黑暗。　
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Chapter 26 Gringotts
Their plans were made, their preparations complete; in the smallest bedroom a single long, coarse black hair (plucked from the sweater Hermione had been wearing at Malfoy Manor) lay curled in a small glass phial on the mantelpiece.
“And you’ll be using her actual wand,” said Harry, nodding toward the walnut wand, “so I reckon you’ll be pretty convincing.”
Hermione looked frightened that the wand might sting or bit her as she picked it up.
“I hate that thing,” she said in a low voice. “I really hate it. It feels all wrong, it doesn’t work properly for me… It’s like a bit of her.”
Harry could not help but remember how Hermione has dismissed his loathing of the blackthorn wand, insisting that he was imagining things when it did not work as well as his own, telling him to simply practice. He chose not to repeat her own advice back to her, however, the eve of their attempted assault on Gringotts felt like the wrong moment to antagonize her.
“It’ll probably help you get in character, though,” said Ron. “think what that wand’s done!”
“But that’s my point!” said Hermione. “This is the wand that tortured Neville’s mum and dad, and who knows how many other people? This is the wand that killed Sirius!”
Harry had not thought of that: He looked down at the wand and was visited by a brutal urge to snap it, to slice it in half with Gryffindor’s sword, which was propped against the wall beside him.
“I miss my wand,” Hermione said miserably. “I wish Mr. Ollivander could have made me another one too.”
Mr. Ollivander had sent Luna a new wand that morning. She was out on the back lawn at that moment, testing its capabilities in the late afternoon sun. Dean, who had lost his wand to the Snatchers, was watching rather gloomily.
Harry looked down at the hawthorn wand that had once belonged to Draco Malfoy. He had been surprised, but pleased to discover that it worked for him at least as well as Hermione’s had done. Remembering what Ollivander had told them of the secret workings of wands, Harry thought he knew what Hermione’s problem was: She had not won the walnut wand’s allegiance by taking it personally from Bellatrix.
The door of the bedroom opened and Griphook entered. Harry reached instinctively for the hilt of the sword and drew it close to him, but regretted his action at once. He could tell that the goblin had noticed. Seeking to gloss over the sticky moment, he said, “We’ve just been checking the last-minute stuff, Griphook. We’ve told Bill and Fleur we’re leaving tomorrow, and we’ve told them not to get up to see us off.”
They had been firm on this point, because Hermione would need to transform in Bellatrix before they left, and the less that Bill and Fleur knew or suspected about what they were about to do, the better. They had also explained that they would not be returning. As they had lost Perkin’s old tent on the night that the Snatcher’s caught them, Bill had lent them another one. It was now packed inside the beaded bag, which, Harry was impressed to learn, Hermione had protected from the Snatchers by the simple expedient of stuffing it down her sock.
Though he would miss Bill, Fleur, Luna, and Dean, not to mention the home comforts they had enjoyed over the last few weeks, Harry was looking forward to escaping the confinement of Shell Cottage. He was tired of trying to make sure that they were not overheard, tired of being shut in the tiny, dark bedroom. Most of all, he longed to be rid of Griphook. However, precisely how and when they were to part from the goblin without handing over Gryffindor’s sword remained a question to which Harry had no answer. It had been impossible to decide how they were going to do it, because the goblin rarely left Harry, Ron, and Hermione alone together for more than five minutes at a time: “He could give my mother lessons,” growled Ron, as the goblin’s long fingers kept appearing around the edges of doors. With Bill’s warning in mind, Harry could not help suspecting that Griphook was on the watch for possible skullduggery. Hermione disapproved so heartily of the planned double-cross that Harry had given up attempting to pick her brains on how best to do it: Ron, on the rare occasions that they had been able to snatch a few Griphook-free moments, had come up with nothing better than “We’ll just have to wing it, mate.”
Harry slept badly that night. Lying away in the early hours, he thought back to the way he had felt the night before they had infiltrated the Ministry of Magic and remembered a determination, almost an excitement. Now he was experiencing jolts of anxiety nagging doubts: He could not shake off the fear that it was all going to go wrong. He kept telling himself that their plan was good, that Griphook knew what they were facing, that they were well-prepared for all the difficulties they were likely to encounter, yet still he felt uneasy. Once or twice he heard Ron stir and was sure that he too was awake, but they were sharing the sitting room with Dean, so Harry did not speak.
It was a relief when six o-clock arrived and they could slip out of their sleeping bags, dress in the semidarkness, then creep out into the garden, where they were to meet Hermione and Griphook. The dawn was chilly, but there was little wind now that it was May. Harry looked up at the stars still glimmering palely in the dark sky and listened to the sea washing backward and forward against the cliff: He was going to miss the sound.
Small green shoots were forcing their way up through the red earth of Dobby’s grave now, in a year’s time the mound would be covered in flowers. The white stone that bore the elf’s name had already acquired a weathered look. He realized now that they could hardly have laid Dobby to rest in a more beautiful place, but Harry ached with sadness to think of leaving him behind. Looking down on the grave, he wondered yet again how the elf had known where to come to rescue them. His fingers moved absentmindedly to the little pouch still strung around his neck, thorough which he could feel the jagged mirror fragment in which he had been sure he had seen Dumbledore’s eye. Then the sound of a door opening made him look around.
Bellatrix Lestrange was striding across the lawn toward them, accompanied by Griphook. As she walked, she was tucking the small, beaded bag into the inside pocket of another set of the old robes they had taken from Grimmauld Place. Though Harry knew perfectly well that it was really Hermione, he could not suppress a shiver of loathing. She was taller than he was, her long black hair rippling down her back, her heavily lidded eyes disdainful as they rested upon him; but then she spoke, and he heard Hermione through Bellatrix’s low voice.
“She tasted disgusting, worse than Gurdyroots! Okay, Ron, come here so I can do you…”
“Right, but remember, I don’t like the beard too long”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, this isn’t about looking handsome”
“It’s not that, it gets in the way! But I liked my nose a bit shorter, try and do it the way you did last time.”
Hermione sighed and set to work, muttering under her breath as she transformed various aspects of Ron’s appearance. He was to be given a completely fake identity, and they were trusting to the malevolent aura cast by Bellatrix to protect him. Meanwhile Harry and Griphook were to be concealed under the Invisibility Cloak.
“There,” said Hermione, “how does he look, Harry?”
It was just not possible to discern Ron under his disguise, but only, Harry thought because he knew him so well. Ron’s hair was now long and wavy; he had a thick brown beard and mustache, no freckles, a short, broad nose, and heavy eyebrows.
“Well, he’s not my type, but he’ll do,” said Harry. “Shall we go, then?”
All three of them glanced back at Shell Cottage, lying dark and silent under the fading stars, then turned and began to walk toward the point, just beyond the boundary wall, where the Fidelius Chard stopped working and they would be able to Disapparate. Once past the gate, Griphook spoke.
“I should climb up now, Harry Potter, I think?”
Harry bent down and the goblin clambered onto his back, his hands linked on front of Harry’s throat. He was not heavy, but Harry disliked the feeling of the goblin and the surprising strength with which he clung on. Hermione pulled the Invisibility Cloak out of the beaded bag and threw it over them both.
“Perfect,” she said, bending down to check Harry’s feet. “I can’t see a thing. Let’s go.”
Harry turned on the spot, with Griphook on his shoulders, concentrating with all his might on the Leaky Cauldron, the inn that was the entrance to Diagon Alley. The goblin clung even tighter as they moved into the compressing darkness, and seconds later Harry’s feet found pavement and he opened his eyes on Charing Cross Road. Muggles bustled past wearing the hangdog expressions of early morning, quite unconscious of the little inn’s existence.
The bar of the Leaky Cauldron was nearly deserted. Ton, the stooped and toothless landlord, was polishing glasses behind the bar counter; a couple of warlocks having a muttered conversation in the far corner glanced at Hermione and drew back into the shadows.
“Madam Lestrange,” murmured Tom, and as Hermione paused he inclined his head subserviently.
“Good morning,” said Hermione, and as Harry crept past, still carrying Griphook piggyback under the Cloak, he saw Tom look surprised.
“Too polite,” Harry whispered in Hermione’s ear as they passed out of the Inn into the tiny backyard. “You need to treat people like they’re scum!”
“Okay, okay!”
Hermione drew out Bellatrix’s wand and rapped a brick in the nondescript wall in front of them. At once the bricks began to whirl and spin: A hole appeared in the middle of them, which grew wider and wider, finally forming an archway onto the narrow cobbled street that was Diagon Alley.
It was quiet, barely time for the shops to open, and there were hardly and shoppers abroad. The crooked, cobbled street was much altered now from the bustling place Harry had visited before his first team at Hogwarts so many years before. More shops than ever were boarded up, though several new establishments dedicated to the Dark Arts had been created since his last visit. Harry’s own face glared down at him from posters plastered over many windows, always captioned with the words UNDESIRABLE NUMBER ONE.
A number of ragged people sat huddled in doorways. He heard them moaning to the few passersby, pleading for gold, insisting that they were really wizards. One man had a bloody bandage over his eye.
As they set off along the street, the beggars glimpsed Hermione. they seemed to melt away before her, drawing hoods over their faces and fleeing as fast as they could. Hermione looked after them curiously, until the man with the bloodied bandage came staggering right across her path.
“My children,” he bellowed, pointing at her. His voice was cracked, high-pitched, he sounded distraught. “Where are my children? What has he done with them? You know, you know!”
“I–I really–” stammered Hermione.
The man lunged at her, reaching for her throat. Then, with a bang and a burst of red light he was thrown backward onto the ground, unconscious. Ron stood there, his wand still outstretched and a look of shock visible behind his beard. Faces appeared at the windows on either side of the street, while a little knot of prosperous-looking passerby gathered their robes about them and broke into gentle trots, keen to vacate the scene. their entrance into Diagon Alley could hardly have been more conspicuous; for a moment Harry wondered whether it might not be better to leave now and try to think of a different plan. Before they could move or consult one another, however, they heard a cry from behind them.
“Why, Madam Lestrange!”
Harry whirled around and Griphook tightened his hold around Harry’s neck: A tall, think wizard with a crown of bushy gray hair and a long, sharp nose was striding toward them.
“It’s Travers,” hissed the goblin into Harry’s ear, but at that moment Harry could not think who Travers was. Hermione had drawn herself up to full height and said with as much contempt as she could muster:
“And what do you want?”
Travers stopped in his tracks, clearly affronted.
“He’s another Death Eater!” breathed Griphook, and Harry sidled sideways to repeat the information into Hermione’s ear.
“I merely sought to greet you,” said Travers coolly, “but if my presence is not welcome…”
Harry recognized his voice now: Travers was one of the Death Eaters who had been summoned to Xenophilius’s house.
“No, no, not at all, Travers,” said Hermione quickly, trying to cover up her mistake. “How are you?”
“Well, I confess I am surprised to see you out and about, Bellatrix.”
“Really? Why?” asked Hermione.
“Well,” Travers coughed, “I heard that the Inhabitants of Malfoy Manor were confined to the house, after the… ah… escape.”
Harry willed Hermione to keep her head. If this was true, and Bellatrix was not supposed to be out in public– “The Dark Lord forgives those who have served him most faithfully in the past,” said Hermione in a magnificent imitation of Bellatrix’s most contemptuous manner. “Perhaps your credit is not as good with him as mine is, Travers.”
Though the Death Eater looked offended, he also seemed less suspicious. He glanced down at the man Ron had just Stunned.
“How did it offend you?”
“It does not matter, it will not do so again,” said Hermione coolly.
“Some of these wandless can be troublesome,” said Travers. “While they do nothing but beg I have no objection, but one of them actually asked me to plead her case in the Ministry last week. ‘I’m a witch, sir, I’m a witch, let me prove it to you!” he said in a squeaky impersonation. “As if I was going to give her my wand–but whose wand,” said Travers curiously, “are you using at the moment, Bellatrix? I heard that your own was–”
“I have my wand here,” said Hermione coldly, holding up Bellatrix’s wand. “I don’t know what rumors you have been listening to, Travers, but you seem sadly misinformed.”
Travers seemed a little taken aback at that, and he turned instead to Ron.
“Who is your friend? I do not recognize him.”
“This is Dragomir Despard,” said Hermione; they had decided that a fictional foreigner was the safest cover for Ron to assume. “He speaks very little English, but he is in sympathy with the Dark Lord’s aims. He has traveled here from Transylvania to see our new regime.”
“Indeed? How do you do, Dragomir?”
“‘Ow you?” said Ron, holding out his hand.
Travers extended two fingers and shook Ron’s hand as though frightened of dirtying himself.
“So what brings you and your–ah–sympathetic friend to Diagon Alley this early?” asked Travers.
“I need to visit Gringotts,” said Hermione.
“Alas, I also,” said Travers. “Gold, filthy gold! We cannot live without it, yet I confess I deplore the necessity of consorting with our long-fingered friends.”
Harry felt Griphook’s clasped hands tighten momentarily around his neck.
“Shall we?” said Travers, gesturing Hermione forward.
Hermione had no choice but to fall into step beside him and head along the crooked, cobbled street toward the place where the snowy-white Gringotts stood towering over the other little shops. Ron sloped along beside them, and Harry and Griphook followed.
A watchful Death Eater was the very last thing they needed, and the worst of it was, with Travers matching at what he believed to be Bellatrix’s side, there was no means for Harry to communicate with Hermione or Ron. All too soon they arrived at the foot of the marble steps leading up to the great bronze doors. As Griphook had already warned them, the liveried goblins who usually flanked the entrance had been replaced by two wizards, both of whom were clutching long thin golden rods.
“Ah, Probity Probes,” signed Travers theatrically, “so crude–but so effective!”
And he set off up the steps, nodding left and right to the wizards, who raised the golden rods and passed them up and down his body. The Probes, Harry knew, detected spells of concealment and hidden magical objects. Knowing that he had only seconds, Harry pointed Draco’s wand at each of the guards in turn and murmured, “Confundo” twice. Unnoticed by Travers, who was looking through the bronze doors at the inner hall, each of the guards gave a little start as the spells hit them.
Hermione’s long black hair rippled behind her as she climbed the steps.
“One moment, madam,” said the guard, raising his Probe.
“But you’ve just done that!” said Hermione in Bellatrix’s commanding, arrogant voice. Travers looked around, eyebrows raised. The guard was confused. He stared down at the thin golden Probe and then at his companion, who said in a slightly dazed voice, “Yeah, you’ve just checked them, Marius.”
Hermione swept forward. Ron by her side, Harry and Griphook trotting invisibly behind them. Harry glanced back as they crossed the threshold. The wizards were both scratching their heads.
Two goblins stood before the inner doors, which were made of silver and which carried the poem warning of dire retribution to potential thieves. Harry looked up at it, and all of a sudden a knife-sharp memory came to him: standing on this very spot on the day that he had turned eleven, the most wonderful birthday of his life, and Hagrid standing beside him saying, “Like I said, yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it.” Gringotts had seemed a place of wonder that day, the enchanted repository of a trove of gold he had never known he possessed, and never for an instant could he have dreamed that he would return to steal… But within seconds they were standing in the vast marble hall of the bank.
The long counter was manned by goblins sitting on high stools serving the first customers of the day. Hermione, Ron, and Travers headed toward an old goblin who was examining a thick gold coin through an eyeglass. Hermione allowed Travers to step ahead of her on the pretext of explaining features of the hall to Ron.
The goblin tossed the coin he was holding aside, said to nobody in particular, “Leprechaun,” and then greeted Travers, who passed over a tiny golden key, which was examined and given back to him.
Hermione stepped forward.
“Madam Lestrange!” said the goblin, evidently startled. “Dear me! How–how may I help you today?”
“I wish to enter my vault,” said Hermione.
The old goblin seemed to recoil a little. Harry glanced around. Not only was Travers hanging back, watching, but several other goblins had looked up from their work to stare at Hermione.
“You have… identification?” asked the goblin.
“Identification? I–I have never been asked for identification before!” said Hermione.
“They know!” whispered Griphook in Harry’s ear, “They must have been warned there might be an imposter!”
“Your wand will do, madam,” said the goblin. He held out a slightly trembling hand, and in a dreadful blast of realization Harry knew that the goblins of Gringotts were aware that Bellatrix’s wand had been stolen.
“Act now, act now,” whispered Griphook in Harry’s ear, “the Imperious Curse!”
Harry raised the hawthorn wand beneath the cloak, pointed it at the old goblin, and whispered, for the first time in his life, “Imperio!”
A curious sensation shot down Harry’s arm, a feeling of tingling, warmth that seemed to flow from his mind, down the sinews and veins connecting him to the wand and the curse it had just cast. The goblin took Bellatrix’s wand, examined it closely, and then said, “Ah, you have had a new wand made, Madam Lestrange!”
“What?” said Hermione, “No, no, that’s mine–”
“A new wand?” said Travers, approaching the counter again; still the goblins all around were watching. “But how could you have done, which wandmaker did you use?”
Harry acted without thinking. Pointing his wand at Travers, he muttered, “Imperio!” once more.
“Oh yes, I see,” said Travers, looking down at Bellatrix’s wand, “yes, very handsome. and is it working well? I always think wands require a little breaking in, don’t you?”
Hermione looked utterly bewildered, but to Harry’s enormous relief she accepted the bizarre turn of events without comment.
The old goblin behind the counter clapped his hands and a younger goblin approached.
“I shall need the Clankers,” he told the goblin, who dashed away and returned a moment later with a leather bag that seemed to be full of jangling metal, which he handed to his senior. “Good, good! S, if you will follow me, Madam Lestrange,” said the old goblin, hopping down off his stool and vanishing from sight. “I shall take you to your vault.”
He appeared around the end of the counter, jogging happily toward them, the contents of the leather bag still jingling. Travers was now standing quite still with his mouth hanging wide open. Ron was drawing attention to this odd phenomenon by regarding Travers with confusion.
“Wait – Bogrod!”
Another goblin came scurrying around the counter.
“We have instructions,” he said with a bow to Hermione. “Forgive me, Madam, but there have been special orders regarding the vault of Lestrange.”
He whispered urgently in Bogrod’s ear, but the Imperiused goblin shook him off.
“I am aware of the instructions, Madam Lestrange wishes to visit her vault … Very old family … old clients … This way, please …”
And, still clanking, he hurried toward one of the many doors leading off the hall. Harry looked back at Travers , who was still rooted to the spot looking abnormally vacant, and made his decision. With a flick of his wand he made Travers come with them, walking meekly in their wake as they reached the door and passed into the rough stone passageway beyond, which was lit with flaming torches.
“We’re in trouble; they suspect,” said Harry as the door slammed behind them and he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak. Griphook jumped down from his shoulders: neither Travers nor Bogrod showed the slightest surprise at the sudden appearance of Harry Potter in their midst. “They’re Imperiused,” he added, in response to Hermione and Ron’s confused queries about Travers and Bogrod, who were both now standing there looking blank. “I don’t think I did it strongly enough, I don’t know …”
And another memory darted through his mind, of the real Bellatrix Lestrange shrieking at him when he had first tried to use an Unforgivable Curse: “You need to mean them, Potter!”
“What do we do?” asked Ron. “Shall we get out now, while we can?”
“If we can,” said Hermione, looking back toward the door into the main hall, beyond which who knew what was happening.
“We’ve got this far, I say we go on,” said Harry.
“Good!” said Griphook. “So, we need Bogrod to control the cart; I no long have the authority. But there will not be room for the wizard.”
Harry pointed his wand at Travers.
“Imperio!”
The wizard turned and set off along the dark track at a smart pace.
“What are you making him do?”
“Hide,” said Harry as he pointed his wand at Bogrod, who whistled to summon a little cart that came trundling along the tracks toward them out of the darkness. Harry was sure he could hear shouting behind them in the main hall as they all clambered into it, Bogrod in front of Griphook, Harry, Ron, and Hermione crammed together in the back.
With a jerk the cart moved off, gathering speed: They hurried past Travers, who was wriggling into a crack in the wall, then the cart began twisting and turning through the labyrinthine passages, sloping downward all the time. Harry could not hear anything over the rattling of the cart on the tracks: His hair flew behind him as they swerved between stalactites, flying ever deeper into the earth, but he kept glancing back. They might as well have left enormous footprints behind them; the more he thought about it, the more foolish it seemed to have disguised Hermione as Bellatrix, to have brought along Bellatrix’s wand, when the Death Eaters knew who had stolen it –
There were a deeper than Harry had ever penetrated within Gringotts; they took a hairpin bend at speed and saw ahead of them, with seconds to spare, a waterfall pounding over the track. Harry heard Griphook shout, “No!” but there was no braking. They zoomed through it. Water filled Harry’s eyes and mouth: He could not see or breathe: Then, with an awful lurch, the cart flipped over and they were all thrown out of it. Harry heard the cart smash into pieces against the passage wall, heard Hermione shriek something, and felt himself glide back toward the ground as though weightless, landing painlessly on the rocky passage floor.
“C-Cushioning Charm,” Hermione spluttered, as Ron pulled her to her feet, but to Harry’s horror he saw that she was no longer Bellatrix; instead she stood there in overlarge robes, sopping wet and completely herself; Ron was red-haired and beardless again. They were realizing it as they looked at each other, feeling their own faces.
“The Thief’s Downfall!” said Griphook, clambering to his feet and looking back the deluge onto the tracks, which, Harry knew now, had been more than water. “It washes away all enchantment, all magical concealment! They know there are imposers in Gringotts, they have set off defenses against us!”
Harry saw Hermione checking that she still had the beaded bag, and hurriedly thrust his own hand under his jacket to make sure he had not lost the Invisibility Cloak. Then he turned to see Bogrod shaking his head in bewilderment: The Thief’s Downfall seemed to have lifted his Imperius Curse.
“We need him,” said Griphook, “we cannot enter the vault without a Gringott’s goblin. And we need the clankers!”
“Imperio!” Harry said again; his voice echoed through the stone passage as he felt again the sense of heady control that flowed from brain to wand. Bogrod submitted once more to his will, his befuddled expression changing to one of polite indifference, as Ron hurried to pick up the leather bag of metal tools.
“Harry, I think I can hear people coming!” said Hermione, and she pointed Bellatrix’s wand at the waterfall and cried, “Protego!” They saw the Shield Charm break the flow of enchanted water as it flew up the passageway.
“Good thinking,” said Harry. “Lead the way, Griphook!”
“How are we going to get out again?” Ron asked as they hurried on foot into the darkness after the goblin, Bogrod panting in their wake like an old dog.
“Let’s worry about that when we have to,” said Harry. He was trying to listen: He thought he could hear something clanking and moving around nearby. “Griphook, how much farther?”
“Not far, Harry Potter, not far …”
And they turned a corner and saw the thing for which Harry had been prepared, but which still brought all of them to a halt.
A gigantic dragon was tethered to the ground in front of them, barring access to four or five of the deepest vaults in the place. The beast’s scales had turned pale and flaky during its long incarceration under the ground, its eyes were milkily pink; both rear legs bore heavy cuffs from which chains led to enormous pegs driven deep into the rocky floor. Its great spiked wings, folded close to its body, would have filled the chamber if it spread them, and when it turned its ugly head toward them, it roared with a noise that made the rock tremble, opened its mouth, and spat a jet of fire that sent them running back up the passageway.
“It is partially blind,” panted Griphook, “but even more savage for that. However, we have the means to control it. It has learned what to expect when the Clankers come. Give them to me.”
Ron passed the bag to Griphook, and the goblin pulled out a number of small metal instruments that when shaken made a long ringing noise like miniature hammers on anvils. Griphook handed them out: Bogrod accepted his meekly.
“You know what to do,” Griphook told Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “It will expect pain when it hears the noise. It will retreat, and Bogrod must place his palm upon the door of the vault.”
They advanced around the corner again, shaking the Clankers, and the noise echoed off the rocky walls, grossly magnified, so that the inside of Harry’s skull seemed to vibrate with the den. The dragon let out another hoarse roar, then retreated. Harry could see it trembling, and as they drew nearer he saw the scars made by vicious slashes across its face, and guess that it had been taught to fear hot swords when it heard the sound of the Clankers.
“Make him press his hand to the door!” Griphook urged Harry, who turned his wand again upon Bogrod. The old goblin obeyed, pressing his palm to the wood, and the door of the vault melted away to reveal a cavelike opening crammed from floor to ceiling with golden coins and goblets, silver armor, the skins of strange creatures – some with long spines, other with drooping wings – potions in jeweled flasks, and a skull still wearing a crown. “Search, fast!” said Harry as they all hurried inside the vault. He had described Hufflepuff’s cap to Ron and Hermione, but if it was the other, unknown Horcrux that resided in this vault, he did not know what it looked like. He barely had time to glance around, however, before there was a muffled clunk from behind them: The door had reappeared, sealing them inside the vault, and they were plunged into total darkness.
“No matter, Bogrod will be able to release us!” said Griphook as Ron gave a shout of surprise. “Light your wands, can’t you? And hurry, we have little time!”
“Lumos!”
Harry shone his lit wand around the vault: Its beam fell upon glittering jewels; he saw the fake sword of Gryffindor lying on a high shelf amongst a jumble of chains. Ron and Hermione had lit their wands too, and were now examining the piles of objects surrounding them.
“Harry, could this be –? Aargh!”
Hermione screamed in pain, and Harry turned his wand on her in time to see a jeweled goblet tumbling from her grip. But as it fell, it split, became a shower of goblets, so that a second later, with a great clatter, the floor was covered in identical cups rolling in every direction, the original impossible to discern amongst them.
“It burned me!” moaned Hermione, sucking her blistered fingers.
“They have added Germino and Flagrante Curses!” said Griphook.
“Everything you touch will burn and multiply, but the copies are worthless – and if you continue to handle the treasure, you will eventually be crushed to death by the weight of expanding gold!”
“Okay, don’t touch anything!” said Harry desperately, but even as he said it, Ron accidentally nudged one of the fallen goblets with his foot, and twenty more exploded into being while Ron hopped on the spot, part of his shoe burned away by contact with the hot metal.
“Stand still, don’t move!” said Hermione, clutching at Ron.
“Just look around!” said Harry. “Remember, the cup’s small and gold, it’s got a badger engraved on it, two handles – otherwise see if you can spot Ravenclaw’s symbol anywhere, the eagle – ”
They directed their wands into every nook and crevice, turning cautiously on the spot. It was impossible not to brush up against anything; Harry sent a great cascade of fake Galleons onto the ground where they joined the goblets, and now there was scarcely room to place their feet, and the glowing gold blazed with heat, so that the vault felt like a furnace. Harry’s wandlight passed over shields and goblin-made helmets set on shelves rising to the ceiling; higher and higher he raised the beam, until suddenly it found an object that made his heart skip and his hand tremble.
“It’s there, it’s up there!”
Ron and Hermione pointed there wands at it too, so that the little golden cup sparkled in a three-way spotlight: the cup that had belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, which had passed into the possession of Hepzibah Smith, from whom it had been stolen by Tom Riddle.
“And how the hell are we going to get up there without touching anything?” asked Ron.
“Accio Cup!” cried Hermione, who had evidently forgotten in her desperation what Griphook had told them during their planning sessions.
“No use, no use!” snarled the goblin.
“Then what do we do?” said Harry, glaring at the goblin. “If you want the sword, Griphook, then you’ll have to help us more than – wait! Can I touch stuff with the sword? Hermione, give it here!”
Hermione fumbled insider her robes, drew out a beaded bag, rummaged for a few seconds, then removed the shining sword. Harry seized it by its rubied hilt and touched the tip of the blade to a silver flagon nearby, which did not multiply.
“If I can just poke the sword through a handle – but how am I going to get up there?”
The shelf on which the cup reposed was out of reach for any of them, even Ron, who was tallest. The heat from the enchanted treasure rose in waves, and sweat ran down Harry’s face and back as he struggled to think of a way up to the cup; and then he heard the dragon roar on the other side of the vault door, and the sound of clanking growing louder and louder.
They were truly trapped now: There was no way out except through the door, and a horde of goblins seemed to be approaching on the other side. Harry looked at Ron and Hermione and saw terror in their faces.
“Hermione,” said Harry, as the clanking grew louder, “I’ve got to get up there, we’ve got to get rid of it – ”
She raised her wand, pointed it at Harry, and whispered, “Levicorpus.”
Hoisted into the air by his ankle, Harry hit a suit of armor and replicas burst out of it like white-hot bodies, filling the cramped space. With screams of pain, Ron, Hermione, and the two goblins were knocked aside into other objects, which also began to replicate. Half buried in a rising tide of red-hot treasure, they struggled and yelled has Harry thrust the sword through the handle of Hufflepuff’s cup, hooking it onto the blade.
“Impervius!” screeched Hermione in an attempt to protect herself, Ron, and the goblins from the burning metal.
Then the worst scream yet made Harry look down: Ron and Hermione were waist deep in treasure, struggling to keep Bogrod from slipping beneath the rising tide, but Griphook had sunk out of sight; and nothing but the tips of a few long fingers were left in view.
Harry seized Griphook’s fingers and pulled. The blistered goblin emerged by degrees, howling.
“Liberatocorpus!” yelled Harry, and with a crash he and Griphook landed on the surface of the swelling treasure, and the sword flew out of Harry’s hand.
“Get it!” Harry yelled, fighting the pain of the hot metal on his skin, as Griphook clambered onto his shoulders again, determined to avoid the swelling mass of red-hot objects. “Where’s the sword? It had the cup on it!”
The clanking on the other side of the door was growing deafening – it was too late –
“There!”
It was Griphook who had seen it and Griphook who lunged, and in that instant Harry knew that the goblin had never expected them to keep their word. One hand holding tightly to a fistful of Harry’s hair, to make sure he did not fall into the heaving sea of burning gold, Griphook seized the hilt of the sword and swung it high out of Harry’s reach. The tiny golden cup, skewered by the handle on the sword’s blade was flung into the air. The goblin astride him, Harry dived and caught it, and although he could feel it scalding his flesh he did not relinquish it, even while countless Hufflepuff cups burst from his fist, raining down upon him as the entrance of the vault opened up again and he found himself sliding uncontrollably on an expanding avalanche of fiery gold and silver that bore him, Ron, Hermione into the outer chamber.
Hardly aware of the pain from the burns covering his body, and still borne along the swell of replicating treasure, Harry shoved the cup into his pocket and reached up to retrieve the sword, but Griphook was gone. Sliding from Harry’s shoulders the moment he could, he had sprinted for cover amongst the surrounding goblins, brandishing the sword and crying, “Thieves! Thieves! Help! Thieves!” He vanished into the midst of the advancing crowd, all of whom were holding daggers and who accepted him without question.
Slipping on the hot metal, Harry struggled to his feet and knew that the only way out was through.
“Stupefy!” he bellowed, and Ron and Hermione joined in: Jets of red light flew into the crowd of goblins, and some toppled over, but others advanced, and Harry saw several wizard guards running around the corner.
The tethered dragon let out a roar, and a gush of flame flew over the goblins; The wizards fled, doubled-up, back the way they had come, and inspiration, or madness, came to Harry. Pointing his wand at the thick cuffs chaining the beast to the floor, he yelled, “Relashio!”
The cuffs broken open with loud bangs.
“This way!” Harry yelled, and still shooting Stunning Spells at the advancing goblins, he sprinted toward the blind dragon.
“Harry – Harry – what are you doing?” cried Hermione.
“Get up, climb up, come on – ”
The dragon had not realized that it was free: Harry’s foot found the crook of its hind leg and he pulled himself up onto its back. The scales were hard as steel; it did not even seem to feel him. He stretched out an arm; Hermione hoisted herself up; Ron climbed on behind them, and a second later the dragon became aware that it was untethered.
With a roar it reared: Harry dug in his knees, clutching as tightly as he could to the jagged scales as the wings opened, knocking the shrieking goblins aside like skittles, and it soared into the air. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, flat on its back, scraped against the ceiling as it dived toward the passage opening, while the pursuing goblins hurled daggers that glanced off its flanks.
“We’ll never get out, it’s too big!” Hermione screamed, but the dragon opened its mouth and belched flame again, blasting the tunnel, whose floors and ceiling cracked and crumbled. By sheer force, the dragon clawed and fought its way through. Harry’s eyes were shut tight against the heat and dust: Deafened by the crash of rock and the dragon’s roars, he could only cling to its back, expecting to be shaken off at any moment; then he heard Hermione yelling, “Defodio!”
She was helping the dragon enlarge the passageway, carving out the ceiling as it struggled upward toward the fresher air, away from the shrieking and clanking goblins: Harry and Ron copied her, blasting the ceiling apart with more gouging spells. They passed the underground lake, and the great crawling, snarling beast seemed to sense freedom and space ahead of it, and behind them the passage was full of the dragon’s thrashing, spiked tail, of great lumps of rock, gigantic fractured stalactites, and the clanking of the goblins seemed to be growing more muffled, while ahead, the dragon’s fire kept their progress clear –
And then at last, by the combined force of their spells and the dragon’s brute strength, they had blasted their way out of the passage into the marble hallway. Goblins and wizards shrieked and ran for cover, and finally the dragon had room to stretch its wings: Turning its horned head toward the cool outside air it could smell beyond the entrance, it took off, and with Harry, Ron, and Hermione still clinging to its back, it forced its way through the metal doors, leaving them buckled and hanging from their hinges, as it staggered into Diagon Alley and launched itself into the sky.
他们的计划定好了，并且也准备完毕了；在那间最小的卧室里,一条长长的、粗粗的黑头发（从赫敏在马尔夫庄园里穿过的毛衣上扯下来的）被卷曲着塞进了壁炉架上的小玻璃瓶里。
　　“那时，你会用她的魔杖，”哈利说，冲着前面的核桃木魔杖点了点头，“所以我认为伪装会相当成功。”
　　赫敏惊恐的看着那根魔杖，好像她一拿起它，那根魔杖就会蜇她打她一样。
　　“我讨厌这玩意儿，”她低声说，“我真的讨厌这玩意儿。这感觉全不对，它完全不适合我……这上面有她的感觉”
　　哈利忍不住想起了当时赫敏是怎样消除他对那根刺李树魔杖的厌恶的。她坚持认为他觉得那根魔杖没有自己那根的好用是因为他在想着其他的事情，并且告诉只要多多练习就好了。他选择不把她的建议原句奉还，毕竟在攻击古灵阁的前夜打击她并不是个好机时。
　　“这应该可以帮你很快进入角色，”罗恩说，“想想这根魔杖原来干过什么啊！”
　　“这恰恰就是问题所在，”赫敏说，“折磨纳威父母的就是这支魔杖，天晓得它还对谁干过这些事儿。况且小天狼星就是被它杀死的！”
　　哈利原来没有想到这些：现在，他有一种强烈的欲望，就是用靠在他旁边墙上的格兰芬多宝剑把它砍断劈成碎片。
　　“我想念我的魔杖，”赫敏痛苦的说，“我希望奥利凡德先生可以再给我做一根新的魔杖。”
　　奥利凡德先生早上才给卢娜寄来了一支新的魔杖。这会儿，在午后的阳光下，她正在后院的草地上测试它的性能。迪安很郁闷的看着她，因为他的魔杖被抢夺者们搞丢了。
　　哈利朝下看着那根曾经属于德拉科·马尔福的山楂木魔杖。他即惊奇又高兴地发现他使用马尔福的魔杖挺顺手的，就像赫敏从前一样。他想起奥利凡德先生曾经告诉他的关于魔杖工作的秘密，他想他明白了现在赫敏的问题所在：她还没有赢得魔杖的忠诚是因为她没有亲手从贝拉特里克斯手中夺过它。
　　这时卧室的门开了，拉环走了进来。哈利下意识地握住剑柄把荐朝身边拉近了点，但他马上对自己的这一反应感到后悔。他发现了妖精注意到了他的举动，为了掩盖这个尴尬的时刻，他说：”拉环，我们正在做最后的准备，我们明天离开的事情已经告诉了比尔和芙蓉，并告诉他们不用起来送我们了。”
　　他们已经达成共识：让比尔和芙蓉对这件事情知道得越少越好。因为赫敏在离开之前要变成贝拉特里克斯时的样子。比尔和芙蓉对他们要干的事知道或猜到得越少越好。而且他们也解释说他们不会再回来了。由于他们在被掠夺者追捕的时候把珀金斯的旧帐篷弄丢了，比尔又借给他们了一个。它现在放进了珠绣袋里——当时赫敏把它塞进袜子里躲开了掠夺者的搜查，哈利对此印象深刻。
　　尽管他会非常想念比尔、芙蓉、卢娜和迪安，更不用说这个几星期以来他们没有享受过的舒适的家居生活，他还是现在非常想逃离这个囚禁他的贝壳小屋。他厌倦了总是要确认是否有人偷听的日子，也厌倦了被关在狭小黑暗的卧室里。更重要的是他渴望摆脱拉环。无论无何，在不交出给兰芬多宝剑的前提下，如何、何时摆脱妖精的控制，确实已经成为了一个哈利无法解决问题。他们几乎不可能决定下一步应该做什么，因为妖精每次把哈利、罗恩和赫敏三人单独留下的时间都不超过五分钟。”他简直可以给我妈妈上课了！”罗恩咆哮着，这时妖精的长手指总是不断的在门边晃悠。有了比尔诚心的提醒，哈利不得不怀疑拉环在时刻监视着他们任何可能采取的诡计。赫敏打心眼里不同意哈利使用欺骗的手段，所以哈利也不想去了解赫敏认为怎么样做最妥当的尝试。而罗恩呢，总是趁着极少数拉环不在的空当，除了说一些”伙计们，要是我们能插上翅膀多好啊”之类的话以后，再也没有其它更好的主意。
　　那一晚，哈利睡得很不好。整个前半夜他都在辗转反侧，找到了他们偷偷潜入魔法部前一晚的那种感觉：记起了那种决心，甚至还带点兴奋的感觉。他现在正在经历着由于持续不断的怀疑所带来的焦虑的困扰：他不能摆脱担心情况会变糟的那种恐惧。他不断地告诉自己他们的计划很棒，拉环知道他们将要面对的是什么，他们已经完全准备好了去面对他们可能会遇到的任何困难，然而他还是感觉不安。有那么一两次，哈利听到罗恩在翻身，知道他也醒着，但是由于和迪安共用一间卧室，所以哈里没有说什么。
　　六点钟终于到时对他们是一种解脱。他们钻出睡袋，趁着朦胧的光线穿好衣服，蹑手蹑脚地进到花园里，他们在那里与赫敏和拉环回合。虽然拂晓有些寒冷，但是因为是五月，风很小。他抬起头，看到星星还在漆黑的夜空里闪烁着微光；他聆听着潮来潮去冲刷着岩壁的声音——他会想念这个声音的。
　　这个时候嫩绿的小草芽正努力地从多比坟墓上的红土间钻出来，一年之内小土堆就会被鲜花所覆盖。刻着多比的名字的白色石头看起来已经历了风吹雨打。他明白他们现在找不到比这个更好的地方来让多比长眠，但是每当哈利想起他们要把多比留在这里的时候他即伤心又难受。低头看着这个坟墓，他还在想多比是怎么知道到哪儿去营救他们的。他的手指下意识的揪着依然挂在他脖子上的小袋子，透过袋子他感觉到了破碎镜子参差不齐的边沿，在那上面他确信他曾看到了是邓布利多的眼睛。然后，传来一阵开门的声音，他抬头，环顾四方。
　　贝拉特里克斯·莱斯特兰奇在拉环的陪伴下穿过草地大步的向他们走来。在走路的同时，她把一个小的珠绣包塞进他们从格里莫广场带来的旧袍子的内口袋里。虽然哈利明确地知道这其实是赫敏，但是还是情不自禁生出一阵反感。她比哈利要高，长长的黑头发在脑袋后面飘舞，她那有着厚眼皮的眼睛轻蔑地盯着她，然后她说话了，他听见赫敏用贝拉特里克斯的声音在说话。
　　“她看起来比戈迪根还恶心！好吧，罗恩，到这来，让我为你……”
　　“好吧，但是记住，我讨厌太长的胡子。”
　　“哦，看在上帝的份上，现在不是讨论英俊的时候。”
　　“不是那样，它挡住我的嘴了！我希望我的鼻子能短点，再试试吧好吗，最后一次就好。”
　　赫敏叹了口气开始施咒，一边为罗恩的脸部变形一边低声嘀咕。他会被完全伪装起来的，而且他们相信贝拉特里克斯身上的邪恶气息会保护他的。而哈利和拉环将要藏到隐形衣下面。
　　“咳，”赫敏说，“他看起来怎么样，哈利？”
　　罗恩在伪装下几乎让人认不出来了，只留下了一点点影子。哈利想，那是因为他太了解他了。罗恩的头发现在变得有长又卷，脸上是满是的棕色胡子，雀斑消失了，还有一个又短又胖的鼻子和一对粗粗的眉毛。
　　“呃，他不是我喜欢的类型，但别人肯定认不出他了，”哈利说，“现在我们可以走了吗？”
　　他们三个回头看了一眼贝壳小屋，在繁星闪烁的夜空下它显得又暗又静。接着他们转身走向围栏外面尖角，在那儿赤胆忠心咒就失效了，他们可以幻影移形。一走过那个门，拉环就说：
　　“我想我得爬到你肩上去了，哈利·波特。”
　　哈利弯下腰，妖精爬到了他背上，他的手伸到前面环住了哈利的喉咙。他并不重，但是哈利不喜欢妖精，不喜欢妖精大力紧紧地贴在他身上。赫敏从绣珠包中拉出隐形衣，掀起来把他俩罩住。
　　“太完美了，”她说着弯腰去检查哈利的脚步，“我什么也看不见。出发吧。”
　　拉环在他的肩上，把自己所有的精力集中到破斧酒吧——对角巷的入口——开始了幻影移形。随着他们慢慢遁入黑暗时，妖精也在哈利身上越贴越紧。过了不久，哈利感觉脚碰到了人行道，他睁开眼睛，发现他在查林十字街上。麻瓜们步履匆匆，脸上带着清晨特有急急忙忙的表情，对这个酒店毫无觉察。
　　破斧酒吧几乎已经荒废掉了。那个驼背、无齿的老板汤姆，正在吧台的后擦着玻璃杯，一对巫师正在远处的角落里嘀嘀咕咕地说着什么，瞥见赫敏后又回到阴影中去了。
　　“莱斯特兰奇夫人，”汤姆低声说道，当他看到赫敏停下脚步时，谦恭的低下了头。
　　“早上好，”赫敏说，此时的哈利正背着拉环在隐身衣的保护下从他们身边悄悄地溜过去，他看见汤姆听了赫敏的话后露出了吃惊的表情。
　　“你对他太友善了”哈利在他们穿过酒吧走到那个小后院的时候，在赫敏耳边低声说，“你应该像对待一堆垃圾一样对待他们。”
　　“好的，好的！”
　　赫敏掏出贝拉特里克斯的魔杖，在他们面前那看似平淡无奇的墙上轻敲了一下。上面的砖块马上开始振动旋转，一个小洞出现在了墙壁中央，越变越大，最后一个拱门出现在了他们面前，这座拱门通向一条由鹅卵石铺成的街道，那就是对角巷。
　　现在的对角巷太冷清了。店铺前门庭冷落，街上行人寥寥，一派萧条破败的景象。这条鹅卵石铺就的狭窄街道与哈利多年前第一次去霍格沃兹报道前比已经变得面目全非了——那时这条街道人头蹿动，热闹非常。就算和上一次来的时候比起来也变了不少，许多店铺都已经用木板封了店，而与之相对的几家专营黑魔法的商店却大模大样的冒了出来，哈利看到许多窗子上都贴着他的通缉令，上面的自己正对他怒目而视，而通缉令下面毫无疑问的是“头号不受欢迎人物”几个大字。
　　许多衣衫褴褛的人蜷缩在店铺门口，他听到他们不住的对寥寥无几的行人呻吟着，一面乞讨，一面强调着自己是个真正的巫师。其中一个人的眼睛上还缠着血迹斑斑的绷带。
　　当他们走在街上时，乞丐们一看到赫敏，恨不得马上从她面前消失，他们用头巾遮着脸四散躲避。赫敏正为眼前的景象纳着闷，突然，那个缠着血绷带的男人一瘸一拐的挡在了她面前。
　　“我的孩子，”他指着她，吼道，他的音调很高，声音嘶哑，听起来已经快要发狂了，“我的孩子在哪？他是怎么对待他们的？你知道的，你知道！！”
　　“我——我真的——”赫敏结结巴巴的申辩到。
　　那个男人喘着粗气，直扑她的喉咙。正在这时，随着一声巨响，一道红光把他击倒在地，不省人事。罗恩站在那里，手里还举着他的魔杖，而他胡子下所露出的表情说明，他显然是被眼前的景象吓坏了。街道两旁的窗户上探出几张脸，而街上聚集的看热闹的行人则抓紧身上的长袍小跑着想离开这个是非之地。
　　他们身后的对角巷入口快要看不到了，此时的哈利拿不准他们是不是该马上离开回去另想办法。正当他们举棋不定想要相互商量一下的时候，他们身后传来了一阵叫声。
　　“啊，莱斯特兰奇夫人！”
　　哈利急忙转身，拉环把哈利的脖子勒得更紧了。一个高高瘦瘦的巫师大步向他们走来——他的头发乱糟糟的，鼻子又尖又长。
　　“那是特莱维尔”，这个妖精在哈利耳边耳语道，但是这个时候哈利根本无心去想特莱维尔是谁。赫敏站直了身子，尽可能轻蔑地说道：
　　“你想干什么？”
　　特莱维尔停下脚步，显然是被激怒了。
　　“他是另一个食死徒！”拉环轻声说，哈利往侧面挪过去，把这句话跟赫敏重复了一遍。
　　“只是和你打个招呼，”特莱维尔冷冷的说，”但是如果我的出现不受欢迎的话……”
　　这时哈利听出他的声音了：特莱维尔是被召唤到西诺费利家的那群食死徒之一。
　　“不，不，才不是呢，特莱维尔。”赫敏很快反应过来，想要掩饰刚才的错误。”你好吗？”
　　“我承认看见你在外面到处跑我很惊讶，贝拉特里克斯。”
　　“真的？为什么？”赫敏问道。
　　“是这样，”特莱维尔咳嗽一声，“我听说住在马尔夫庄园的那些人都被关在房子里呢，在……厄……逃脱之后。”
　　哈利希望赫敏能够冷静思考。如果这是真的，那么贝拉特里克斯就不应该在大庭广众之前到处跑——
　　“黑魔王原谅了那些过去曾经最虔诚地效忠他的仆人。”赫敏惟妙惟肖的模仿着贝拉特里克斯那种目空一切的神态，“也许他对你的信任不如对我的多，特莱维尔。”
　　虽然那个食死徒看上去很不快，但还疑心没那么重了。他低头看了看被罗恩击倒的那个人。
　　“他怎么惹到你了？”
　　“没什么，已经没事了。”赫敏冷冷地说。
　　“这些手里没魔杖的家伙很麻烦。”特莱维尔说道，”他们求我时我真没法拒绝，但是上周其中有个人真的求我在魔法部替她的案子说话。‘我是个女巫，先生，我是个女巫，让我证明给你看！’”他装出尖声尖气的语调，“好像我打算给她我的魔杖——不过你现在用的，”特莱维尔诧异道，“是谁的魔杖，贝拉特里克斯？我听说你自己的魔杖被——”
　　“我的魔杖在这儿。”赫敏镇定的举起了贝拉特里克斯的魔杖说道，”我不知道你听到了什么谣言，特莱维尔，但是你显然是错误消息误导了。”
　　特莱维尔看起来对此有一点迷惑，他把目光转向罗恩。
　　“你这位朋友是谁？我认不出来。”
　　“他是德拉克米尔·迪斯帕。”赫敏说道，他们已经想好了，一个编造出来的外国人是罗恩最安全的伪装。”他几乎不会说英语，不过他对黑魔王的大业很支持。他从特兰西瓦尼亚到这儿来，等着看我们的新政权建立。”
　　“真的吗？你好啊，德拉克米尔。”
　　“哦，你好。”罗恩伸出一只手。
　　特莱维尔伸出两根手指和罗恩握了手，好像是害怕弄脏自己似的。
　　“那么你和你的——支持者朋友这么早到对角巷来干什么？”特莱维尔问道。
　　“我要去古灵阁。”赫敏说。
　　“唉，我也要去那儿呢。”特莱维尔说，”金子，肮脏的金子！离了它我们活不下去，不过我得承认，不得不跟咱们那些长手指的朋友们搅在一起让我很难过。”
　　哈利感觉到拉环扣住自己脖子的双手在瞬间收紧了。
　　“一起去吧？”特莱维尔说道，冲赫敏摆了个您先请的手势。
　　赫敏只好和他并着肩，沿着曲折的鹅卵石街道，走向那雪白的矗立在许多小商店之间的古灵阁。罗恩歪斜着走在他们旁边，哈利和拉环跟在后面。
　　碰到一个警觉的食死徒是他们碰到的最新难题，最糟糕的是，特莱维尔走在他以为的贝拉特里斯身边，这样哈利就没办法跟赫敏或者罗恩说话了。很快他们就来到了通向高大铜门的大理石台阶下面。正如拉环事先警告的那样，通常守在入口处两侧的穿制服的妖精们被两名巫师取代了，他们每人手中都攥着细长的金棒。
　　“啊，正直探针！”特莱维尔表情生动的说，”多么粗劣的仪器——但又是那么管用！”
　　他迈步走上前去，朝左右两个巫师点了点头，后者举起金棒在他身上上下移动。哈利知道那探针可以探测出隐藏的咒语和魔法物品。他知道自己只有几秒钟时间，于是用德拉科的魔杖依次指着那两名守卫咕哝了两遍“迷魂乱心”。特莱维尔正透过铜大门看着里面的大厅，所以没有发现，那两个守卫被咒语击中时都稍稍呆了一下。
　　赫敏从台阶往上走时她的黑色长发在背后起伏不定。
　　“等一下，夫人。”一个守卫举起探针说道。
　　“但是你们刚检查完了啊！”赫敏装着贝拉特里克斯那种居高临下的傲慢语气说道，特莱维尔双眉挑起四下环顾。那个守卫不解其意，他低头看了看手中那根细细的金棒，然后又去看自己那位头昏眼花的同事。
　　“是啊，你已经查过他们了，马里乌斯。”
　　赫敏一阵风般的走过去了。罗恩跟着她，哈利和拉环在隐身衣里面紧紧相随。他们跨进门内时哈利回头看了一眼，两名守卫都在抓头。
　　内厅门口站着两个妖精，那门是银质的，门上刻着富有诗意的警告语，提醒有歹意的盗贼们偷窃的严重后果。哈利抬头看去，突然之间他脑海中电光一闪：在他一生中最美妙的十一岁生日那天，他就站在这个地方，他身边的海格说道，“就像我说的，你要是来这儿打劫会被搞得崩溃的。”那天古灵阁看上去像是个仙境，是个储藏着他从未知晓的一大笔财产的魔法金库，那个时候他从来没想过有天会来这里偷东西……但是片刻工夫，他们就站在银行敞亮的大理石大厅之中了。
　　妖精们坐在长长的柜台后面的凳子上，为当天的第一批客人服务。赫敏罗恩和特莱维尔走向一个正带着眼镜察看一枚厚厚金币的老妖精。赫敏借口给罗恩讲解银行大厅里怎么办公，让特莱维尔走在自己前面。
　　那个老妖精把手中的金币往旁边一扔，不知道对着谁喊了一声：“矮妖！”然后向特莱维尔打招呼，特莱维尔递过去一枚小金钥匙，妖精察看之后还给了他。
　　赫敏向前走去。
　　“莱斯特兰奇夫人！”那妖精喊道，显然很是震惊。”我的天啊！我——我今天能为您做点什么？”
　　“我要去我的金库看看。”赫敏说道。
　　老妖精似乎有点畏缩的样子。哈利四下环视，不光是特莱维尔正在犹豫的观察着，其他几个妖精们也从手头的工作中抬起头来盯着赫敏看。
　　“您有……证件吗？”妖精问道。
　　“证件？——从来没人找我查过证件！！”赫敏说。
　　“他们知道了！”拉环在哈利耳边悄悄说道，“一定有人警告他们会有人冒名顶替！”
　　“用您的魔杖就行，夫人。”妖精说道。他微微颤抖着伸出手，哈利脑海中闪过一个可怕的念头，他觉得古灵阁的妖精们已经获悉贝拉特里克斯的魔杖被偷了。
　　“快动手！快动手！”拉环在哈利耳边小声说，“用夺魂咒！”
　　哈利在隐身衣下面举起了山楂木制的魔杖，指向那个老妖精，在他一生中头一次轻轻的说道：“灵魂出窍！”
　　一种奇怪的感觉从哈利的手臂中射出来，他大脑里好像趟出一股麻痒的暖流，通过杖芯和纹理将他和魔杖与发出去的咒语连在了一起。那妖精接过贝拉特里克斯的魔杖细细查看了一番，然后说道：“啊，您换了一只新的魔杖啊，莱斯特兰奇夫人！”
　　“什么？”赫敏说，“不，不，那是我的——”
　　“新魔杖？”特莱维尔又凑到柜台跟前，周围所有的妖精们仍旧在看他们。”但是你怎么买到的呢，哪个制杖人帮你做的？”
　　哈利想也没想就动手了。他把魔杖指向特莱维尔，又一次念出“灵魂出窍！”
　　“哦，是的，我明白了。”特莱维尔低头看着贝拉特里克斯的魔杖说道，“是的，很漂亮，它好用吗？我总认为魔杖需要一点磨合，你说呢？”
　　赫敏看上去十分困惑，然而面对骤变她并没说什么，这让哈利长长松了口气。
　　柜台后面的老妖精拍了下手，一个年轻妖精走了过来。
　　“把钥匙给我拿来，”他告诉那个年轻妖精，后者一阵风跑开了，不大功夫拎来一只装满了叮当响的金属工具的羽毛口袋，并将这口袋递给自己的上司。”好，好！S，请跟我来，莱斯特兰奇夫人。”老妖精从凳子上跳下来，消失在视野中。”我带您到您的金库那儿去！”
　　他出现在柜台尽头，快活的小跑过来，羽毛袋中的东西还在叮当乱响。特莱维尔一动不动的站着，嘴巴大张。特莱维尔的奇怪样子让罗恩感到百思不解。
　　“等等——博格！”
　　又一个妖精匆忙转过柜台走了过来。
　　“我们有规定。”他向赫敏鞠了一躬说道，“请原谅，夫人，莱斯特兰奇家的金库还有一些特殊规定。”
　　他急切地跟博格耳语了几句，然而被夺魂的妖精把他推开。
　　“我知道规矩，莱斯特兰奇夫人要到她的金库那儿去……很古老的家族呢……老主顾了……请这边走……”
　　然后，他带着那些叮当作响的东西，匆匆走向大厅尽头很多扇门之一。哈利回头去看特莱维尔，只见他仍旧站在原地茫然无措，哈利下了决心。他轻点魔杖，叫特莱维尔温顺的跟在后面，他们穿过那扇门走入了一条粗糙的石路，两旁有燃烧着的火炬来照明。
　　“我们有麻烦了，他们起疑心了。”当门在身后关闭，哈利脱下隐身衣说道。拉环跳下他的肩膀，特莱维尔和博格都没有对哈利·波特突然出现在他们中间感到丝毫惊讶。“他们被我施了夺魂咒。”他解释说，因为赫敏和罗恩都对站在那儿眼神空洞的特莱维尔和博格提出了疑问。“我觉得那咒施得不够厉害，我不知道……”
　　另一缕记忆飞速穿过他的脑海，他第一次试图使用不可饶恕咒语时真正的贝拉特里克斯对他尖声喊道：”你得真的想干掉我，波特！”
　　“我们怎么办？”罗恩问道，“趁着还有机会我们快逃吧？”

　　“但愿能逃。”赫敏说，她回头去看通往大厅的那扇门，门后不知道发生了什么。

　　“我们都走到这一步了，我认为应该干下去。”哈利说。

　　“没错！”拉环说道，“那么，我们需要让博格来控制手提车，我已经没有驾驶权了。但是车上没地方给那个巫师了。”

　　哈利把魔杖指向特莱维尔。

　　“灵魂出窍！”

　　他立刻转身快步沿着黑暗的轨道走下去了。

　　“你让他去干什么？”

　　“让他藏起来。”哈利一边说，一边把魔杖指向博格，后者打了声呼哨，召唤一辆小推车沿着轨道从黑暗中开过来。当大家都爬上车时，哈利确定听见了大厅中传来叫喊声，博格在拉环前面，哈利罗恩赫敏都挤坐在后面。

　　小车震动一下便出发了，逐渐提速。他们从试图挤进墙上裂缝中的特莱维尔身边急速驶过，然后小车便开始扭动着驶进迷宫般盘绕的隧道，一路向下倾斜着。哈利除了车轮和轨道之间摩擦发出的喀喀声什么也听不到。哈利只感觉到随着他们往地层深处飞奔而去，石钟乳被飞快抛在脑后，头发也被风刮得竖立起来，他一路上不住回头看。哈利越想着越觉得把赫敏装成贝拉特里克斯并拿着她的魔杖的做法十分愚蠢，因为食死徒们知道是谁偷了她的魔杖——还不如大大方方地闯近来呢！

　　他们来到比哈利以前更深入古灵阁的地方，在一个急转弯后，一条瀑布突然出现在轨道上倾泻而下。哈利听见拉环喊道：”不！”但是无法刹车了。他们一头扎了进去。哈利的眼睛和嘴里灌满了水，他看不见也无法呼吸了。然后小车狠狠的一倾，弹了起来，他们便全都飞了出去。哈利听见小车撞在通道墙壁上撞成碎片的声音，赫敏尖叫了声什么，他感觉到自己仿佛身轻如羽的滑落下去，毫发无伤的落在坚硬的石头地面上。

　　“缓、缓冲咒！”赫敏慌乱中念道，同时罗恩拉着她站住了，但是令哈利害怕的是，他看到她不再是贝拉特里克斯的样子了，她站在那儿穿着过大的袍子，浑身湿透，完全变回她自己的样子了。罗恩也变回红头发光下巴了。他们互相看着对方时意识到了这一点，用手摸着自己的脸。

　　“显真瀑布！”拉环一边说一边爬起来，回头去看轨道上方的瀑布，哈利现在明白过来，那不是普通的水。”那水可以冲掉所有魔法和伪装！他们知道古灵阁里有冒名顶替的人，他们作好了防御！”

　　哈利看见赫敏正在查珠绣袋是否还在身边，于是他也急忙把手伸进夹克里摸摸确保隐身衣没丢。然后他扭头看见博格正在迷惑地摇着脑袋——看来显真瀑布将他身上的夺魂咒去除了。

　　“我们需要他。”拉环说道，”没有古灵阁的妖精我们进不去金库。而且我们需要钥匙！”

　　“灵魂出窍！”哈利又一次说道，他的声音回荡在石头隧道之间，他又感觉到那种可以控制思维的力量从大脑传到魔杖之上。博格又一次服从了他的意志，脸上那种迷惑的表情逐渐变成一种彬彬有礼的漠然，这时罗恩赶快把装满了金属工具的羽毛口袋捡了起来。

　　“哈利，我想我听见有人来了！”赫敏说道，她用贝拉特里克斯的魔杖指着瀑布喊道：”盔甲护身！”他们看见盔甲咒飞到轨道上方将施了魔法的水流截断了。

　　“好办法！”哈利说，“带路吧，拉环。”

　　“那我们以后怎么出去啊？”当他们跟着那妖精匆忙步入黑暗之中罗恩问道，博格跟在他们身后像条老狗般喘着气。

　　“到时候再担心好了。”哈利说。他正在侧耳倾听，他觉得听见有什么叮当作响的东西正在附近转悠。“拉环，还有多远？”

　　“不远了，哈利?波特，不远了……”

　　拐了个弯他们就看到了那东西，虽然有心理准备，但是众人还是被那东西吓得停住脚步。

　　一条巨龙横在面前，挡住了通向四五个最深的金库的路径。由于长期被幽禁于地下，这怪兽显得苍白而病态，它的眼睛呈现出一种乳状的粉红色，两条后腿都被拴在镣铐上，镣铐的链子连着巨大的深深钉进地面的木桩。他的锥形翅膀折叠着紧贴身体，要是展开的话足可以把这里的空间填满。当它扭头去看他们时，发出的声音让岩石都颤抖起来，一张嘴便喷出一束火焰，逼得他们后退。

　　“它有点瞎了。”拉环喘息着说，“但是也因此更野蛮了。不过我们有办法管住它。它被训练得能认出钥匙。把钥匙给我。”

　　罗恩将口袋递给拉环，那妖精从中掏出几个小号的金属工具，一摇晃就会发出类似小榔头砸铁砧子的那种长鸣。拉环一伸手，博格便顺从的接了过来。

　　“你们知道该怎么做。”拉环告诉哈利罗恩和赫敏。“那条龙一听见这声音就会疼得后退，然后博格就把他的手掌放在保险柜的门上。”

　　他们继续一边沿着墙角前进，一边手里还摇动着钥匙，那东西产生的声音在洞壁间回响，被加倍的放大，震得哈利感觉整个洞穴都在不停的晃动。那头巨龙又发出了一声咆哮，接着就向后退了下去。哈利可以看到巨龙在颤抖着，而且当他们离它更近些后，他发现巨龙脸上还残留着许多猛烈攻击留下的疤痕，他猜想那一定是在让它把听到钥匙发出的响声与对强烈痛楚形成条件反射时留下的。

　　“让他把手放在门上，”在拉环催促下哈利举起手中的魔杖再一次指向博格。那个老妖精照做了，他把手放砸了木门上，大门一点点的消失了。一个洞穴状的金库出现在他们面前，里面满是堆积如山的金银、精致的酒杯、银质的盔甲、奇形怪状的兽皮标本——有的长着长长的脊骨，另外一些连着下垂的翅膀——一堆镶着宝石的瓶子、甚至还有一具仍然戴着王冠的骷髅。“快找，快！”他们迅速冲进金库里的同时哈利大喊道。他曾经向罗恩和赫敏提过赫奇帕奇的杯子，但如果这个洞里真的藏有别的未知魂器，他还真的不知道那该是什么样子。但事实上，他们根本没什么时间仔细察查看这个金库，因为随着他们身后的一声闷响，那扇门关上了，而他们也被关在了洞里，陷入了一片黑暗。

　　“别慌，博格会带我们出去的！”拉环听到罗恩的惊叫后马上说。

　　“点亮你们的魔杖，你们还在等什么？另外，哈利，我们时间紧迫！！”

　　“荧光闪烁！”

　　哈利点亮了自己的魔杖，借着光他四下打量着个洞穴：地处都散落着闪闪发光的宝石，而且他看到了那柄假的格莱芬多宝剑，正和一堆杂乱的链子一起放在高处的架子上。罗恩和赫敏此时也点亮了他们的魔杖，开始察看着他们周围散落的物品。

　　“哈利，你看这是不是——？啊！”

　　赫敏疼得大叫，哈利刚来得及把魔杖指向了她，并看到一个镶着珠宝的杯子从她的手中掉了下来。而且一落地就分裂开来，变成了更多的杯子。不一会，地板就被四面八方涌现的一模一样的杯子盖得严严实实，至于原来的那个，早就不知踪影了。

　　“烫死我了！”赫敏吮着她被烫伤的手指呻吟着。

　　“他们都已经被施上了铁火咒、分裂咒和不可饶恕咒！”拉环说道。

　　“你所触碰的每样物品都会变得滚烫，而且会迅速自我复制，但那些复制品却根本一文不值——而且如果你妄图继续偷取那些财宝，最终就会被那些大量复制出的金银珠宝活活压死在洞里！”

　　“好的！别再乱碰任何东西！”哈利马上接道，但与此同时，罗恩的脚无意中踢到了地上的一个杯子，随即，二十多个杯子在罗恩脚边炸裂开，罗恩被烫得直跳脚，他的一只鞋都被那些滚烫的金属烧掉了一块。

　　“站在那儿，别乱动！”赫敏一把抓住罗恩，冲他喊道。

　　“要留心一点！”哈利说，“记着，杯子是小小的，金色的，上边雕着一只獾，有两只手柄，另外，那杯子上也肯定有拉文克劳的标记，那头鹰——”

　　他们用魔杖指着每个隐蔽处和岩石的裂缝，仔细地搜寻每一个地方。这样不碰任何东西是不可能的。哈利又在地上的杯子堆里增加了一大群假帆船。现在那几乎没有地方可以让他们落脚了，而不断增长中的金子随着温度增发热，金库现在简直就像个炉子。哈利魔杖发出的光亮越过了盾和妖精做的头盔落在了高达天花板的架子上。他让光柱越升越高，直至突然间它照到了一个让他手抖心跳的东西。

　　“它在那，在上面！”

　　罗恩和赫敏也把他们的魔杖指向了那，这个小金杯被来自三个方向的光柱照亮了，那个曾经属于赫尔加?赫奇帕奇的杯子，后来传给了赫兹巴?史密斯所，又补汤姆?里德尔从她那偷走。

　　“不碰任何东西他妈的要怎么才能拿到那杯子？”罗恩问。

　　“杯子飞来！”赫敏喊道，沮丧中她已经完全忘记了在他们在计划时拉环说的话了。

　　“没用的，没有用的！”妖精吼道。

　　“那怎么办？”哈利生气地瞪着妖精说。“如果你还想要剑的话，拉环，你就应该更多地帮助我们——等等！我能用剑来碰这些东西吗？赫敏，把它拿过来！”

　　赫敏在她的长袍里摸索着，拿出绣珠包，翻了一会，然后拿出了一把金光闪闪的宝剑。哈利抓住深红色的剑柄，试着用剑刃碰了碰一个银酒壶的顶部，它并没有变成许多个。

　　“就算我能用剑刺到杯子的手柄，可我要怎么上去那？”

　　那个存放杯子的架子太高了，他们没人够得着，包括他们当中最高的罗恩。被施了魔法的财宝散出的热气掀起了一股股热浪，哈利拼命想着能用什么方法拿到杯子，脸上背上汗如雨下。这时，他们听到了金库门另一边响起了龙的吼声，叮叮当当的声音越来越大。他们现在真的被困住了：门是这惟一的出路，一群妖精似乎正从另一边赶来。哈利在罗恩和赫敏，他们脸上写满了恐惧。

　　“赫敏，”哈利说，这时叮叮当当的声音更近了，“我一定得够到那，我们一定得克服它——”

　　她举起魔杖指着哈利：“倒挂金钟。”

　　哈利的脚踝被升到空中，撞到了一套盔甲，复制品像白热的尸体一样爆发出来，填满了狭窄的空间。伴随着疼痛的尖叫声，罗恩、赫敏和两个妖精被撞到一边的别的东西上，它们也开始自我复制了。一半的东西都炽热地燃烧起来，他们挣扎着喊叫着，而哈利则成功地把剑穿过赫奇帕奇杯子的杯柄，使它挂在剑刃上。

　　“防水防湿！”赫敏尖叫着试图在燃烧的金属中保护自己、罗恩和妖精们。

　　一阵凄惨的尖叫使哈利往脚下看去：罗恩和赫敏陷入深及腰部的财宝中。他们挣扎着拉着博格以使他不至于陷入不断上升的财宝潮中。但是，拉环很快便从视线中消失了，只能看见他的几个指尖。哈利拉住拉环的手指使劲拉着，全身起泡的妖精被拉出来一截，不断嚎叫着。

　　“金钟落地！”哈利大叫道。一阵巨响后，他和拉环落在了膨胀的财宝堆上，剑从哈利手中飞出去。

　　“拿着！！”哈利忍受着灼热金属的炙烤大吼。拉环再次爬上他的肩膀，决定以此避免那些膨胀着的灼热金属。“剑在哪里？？杯子在它上面挂着！！”门的另一边发出震耳欲聋的当啷当啷的响声，但是已经太迟了——

　　“在那儿！！”

　　是拉环看到了它，也是拉环在用力大喊。这一瞬间哈利知道这个妖精从来就没指望过他们会信守诺言。拉环一只手紧紧抓住哈利的一撮头发以免他坠入上升的金海，一面握住剑柄把它举到哈利够不着的地方挥舞着。挂在剑柄上小金杯滑出剑刃被甩到了半空中。拉环骑在哈利肩上，而哈利猛地蹲下去抓那个金杯，他能感到自己的肉正在被炙烤，甚至无数个赫奇帕奇的杯子从他的拳头中暴出来，他也没有松手。这时金库的大门再次打开，哈利不由自主地和罗恩赫敏一起顺着膨胀的灼热的金银潮水滑向另一个房间。

　　哈利仿佛没有感到全身烫伤的痛也没有顾忌依然疯狂膨胀的财宝，而是把杯子塞进口袋伸手去抓剑，但是拉环已经逃走了。他一从哈利肩上滑下，就挥舞着长剑在财宝的洪流中对周围的精灵奋力呼喊喊：“有贼！抓贼啊！快来抓贼啊！！”它冲进最前面拥挤的妖精群里消失不见了——所有的精灵都举着短剑并且毫不犹豫地接纳了他。

　　哈利从炽热的金属上滑下，努力站稳脚，他意识到穿过这群妖精是唯一的出路。

　　“昏昏倒地！！！”哈利怒吼道，罗恩和赫敏也加入了战斗。红光射向妖精们，一些妖精倒下了，但其他的却继续前进。哈利看到一些巫师守卫从拐角处跑来。

　　龙咆哮着飞向妖精们头上喷出烈焰，巫师们拥挤着逃回他们来的路。一个灵感或者说是疯狂的念头涌入哈利脑中，他把魔杖指向把巨龙绑在地上的粗大铁链然后喊道：“力劲松懈。”

　　铁链在巨大的响声中断为两截。

　　“这边走！！”哈利高喊。一边不停地击昏前来的妖精，一边奋力跑向瞎了的龙。

　　“哈利！！哈利！！你在干什么？？”赫敏高喊。

　　“站起来，爬上来，快点！！”

　　那只龙显然没有意识到自由近在咫尺。哈利踩着龙的腿弯爬上它的背部。龙鳞如铁般坚硬，以至于它没感到哈利的动作。哈利伸出胳膊拉起赫敏，罗恩也爬到了他们后面。龙旋即意识到自己不再被束缚。

　　它咆哮一声站了起来，在它张开翅膀时哈利用自己的膝盖尽可能夹住龙鳞的缺口。龙周围的妖精割麦似的倒下。然后龙飞向天空。哈利，罗恩和赫敏趴在龙背上，龙飞向敞开的出口，他们的脊背几乎是擦着天花板。妖精灵只能挥舞着短剑眼睁睁地看它掠过。

　　“我们可能永远也上不去了，它太大了。”赫敏尖叫道。龙又一次喷出火焰，烧毁了整个隧道。为了躲避，龙一路上都用爪子撕开道路。炽热和灰尘使哈利几乎无法睁开眼睛。他忍受着坠落的石块和龙的咆哮，紧贴在龙背上，生怕什么时候被震落。这时他听到赫敏高喊道：“四分五裂！”

　　她在帮着龙在它飞向更新鲜的空气的路上开辟通道，远离妖精灵们的高喊声和叮当声。哈利和罗恩学着她在天花板上凿出更多的碎片。当他们经过地下湖时，这只丑陋的怪物仿佛感受到了自由和广阔的天地就在眼前。在他们身后的通道里充满了锥形龙尾击碎的巨大的岩石和钟乳石。妖精们的叮当声仿佛被捂住了。在前面，龙用自己的火焰扫清道路。

　　最终，在龙野蛮的力量和他们魔咒的双重威力下，他们冲出了隧道，进入了大理石的大厅。巫师和妖精灵颤抖着，奔跑着寻求掩护。而龙也终于有了舒展自己翅膀的空间：它把带角的头伸向出口凉爽的空气。然后带着仍然紧帖在背上的哈利，罗恩，赫敏飞了起来。它强行撞开了金属门，门无力地耷拉在铰链上。然后它蹒跚地走进对角巷，直冲云霄。
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Chapter 25 Shell Cottage
Bill and Fleur’s cottage stood alone on a cliff overlooking the sea, its walls embedded with shells and whitewashed. It was a lonely and beautiful place. Wherever Harry went inside the tiny cottage or its garden, he could hear the constant ebb and flow of the sea, like the breathing of some great, slumbering creature. He spent much of the next few days making excuses to escape the crowded cottage, craving the cliff-top view of open sky and wide, empty sea, and the feel of cold, salty wind on his face. The enormity of his decision not to race Voldemort to the wand still scared Harry. He could not remember, ever before, choosing /not/ to act. He was full of doubts, doubts that Ron could not help voicing whenever they were together.
“What if Dumbledore wanted us to work out the symbol in time to get the wand?”
“What if working out what the symbol meant made you ‘worthy’ to get the Hallows?”
“Harry, if that really is the Elder Wand, how the hell are we supposed to finish off You-Know-Who?”
Harry had no answers: There were moments when he wondered whether it had been outright madness not to try to prevent Voldemort breaking open the tomb. He could not even explain satisfactorily why he had decided against it: Every time he tried to reconstruct the internal arguments that had led to his decision, they sounded feebler to him.
The odd thing was that Hermione’s support made him feel just as confused as Ron’s doubts. Now forced to accept that the Elder Wand was real, she maintained that it was an evil object, and that the way Voldemort had taken possession of it was repellent, not to be considered.
“You could never have done that, Harry,” she said again and again. “You couldn’t have broken into Dumbledore’s grave.”
But the idea of Dumbledore’s corpse frightened Harry much less than the possibility that he might have misunderstood the living Dumbledore’s intentions. He felt that he was still groping in the dark; he had chosen his path but kept looking back, wondering whether he had misread the signs, whether he should not have taken the other way. From time to time, anger at Dumbledore crashed over him again, powerful as the waves slamming themselves against the cliff beneath the cottage, anger that Dumbledore had not explained before he died.
“But /is/ he dead?” said Ron, three days after they had arrived at the cottage. Harry had been staring out over the wall that separated the cottage garden from the cliff when Ron and Hermione had found him; he wished they had not, having no wish to join in with their argument.
“Yes, he is. Ron, please, don’t start that again!”
“Look at the facts, Hermione,” said Ron, speaking across Harry, who continued to gaze at the horizon. “The solve doe. The sword. The eye Harry saw in the mirror –”
“Harry admits he could have imagined the eye! Don’t you, Harry?”
“I could have,” said Harry without looking at her.
“But you don’t thing you did, do you?” asked Ron.
“No, I don’t,” said Harry.
“There you go!” said Ron quickly, before Hermione could carry on. “If it wasn’t Dumbledore, explain how Dobby knew we were in the cellar, Hermione?”
“I can’t – but can you explain how Dumbledore sent him to us if he’s lying in a tomb at Hogwarts?”
“I dunno, it could’ve been his ghost!”
“Dumbledore wouldn’t come back as a ghost,” said Harry. There was little about Dumbledore he was sure of now, but he knew that much. “He would have gone on.”
“What d’you mean, ‘gone on’?” asked Ron, but before Harry could say any more, a voice behind them said, “‘Arry?”
Fleur had come out of the cottage, her long silver hair flying in the breeze.
“‘Arry, Grip’ook would like to speak to you. ‘E eez in ze smallest bedroom, ‘e says ‘e does not want to be over’eard.”
Her dislike of the goblin sending her to deliver messages was clear; she looked irritable as she walked back around the house.
Griphook was waiting for them, as Fleur had said, in the tiniest of the cottage’s three bedrooms, in which Hermione and Luna slept by night. He had drawn the red cotton curtains against the bright, cloudy sky, which gave the room a fiery glow at odds with the rest of the airy, light cottage.
“I have reached my decision, Harry Potter,” said the goblin, who was sitting cross-legged in a low chair, drumming its arms with his spindly fingers. “Though the goblins of Gringotts will consider it base treachery, I have decided to help you –”
“That’s great!” said Harry, relief surging through him. “Griphook, thank you, we’re really –”
“– in return,” said the goblin firmly, “for payment.”
Slightly taken aback, Harry hesitated.
“How much do you want? I’ve got gold.”
“Not gold,” said Griphook. “I have gold.”
His black eyes glittered; there were no whites to his eyes.
“I want the sword. The sword of Godric Gryffindor.”
Harry’s spirits plummeted.
“You can’t have that,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“Then,” said the goblin softly, “we have a problem.”
“We can give you something else,” said Ron eagerly. “I’ll bet the Lestranges have got loads of stuff, you can take your pick once we get into the vault.”
He had said the wrong thing. Griphook flushed angrily.
“I am not a thief, boy! I am not trying to procure treasures to which I have no right!”
“The sword’s ours –”
“it is not,” said the goblin.
“We’re Gryffindors, and it was Godric Gryffindor’s –”
“And before it was Gryffindor’s, whose was it?” demanded the goblin, sitting up straight.
“No one’s,” said Ron. “It was made for him, wasn’t it?”
“No!” cried the goblin, bristling with anger as he pointed a long finger at Ron. “Wizarding arrogance again! That sword was Ragnuk the First’s, taken from him by Godric Gryffindor! It is a –, a masterpiece of goblinwork! It belongs with the gobl–. The sword is the price of my hire, take it or leave it!”
Griphook glared at them. Harry glanced at the other –, then said, “We need to discuss this, Griphook, if that’s all right. Could you give us a few minutes?”
The goblin nodded, looking sour.
Downstairs in the empty sitting room, Harry walked to the fireplace, brow furrowed, trying to think what to do. Behind him, Ron said, “He’s having a laugh. We can’t let him have that sword.”
“It is true?” Harry asked Hermione. “Was the sword stolen by Gryffindor?”
“I don’t know,” she said hopelessly. “Wizarding history often skates over what the wizards have done to other magical races, but there’s no account that I know of that says Gryffindor stole the sword.”
“It’ll be one of those goblin stories,” said Ron, “about how the wizards are always trying to get one over on them. I suppose we should think ourselves lucky he hasn’t asked for one of our wands.”
“Goblins have got good reason to dislike wizards, Ron.” said Hermione. “They’ve been treated brutally in the past.”
“Goblins aren’t exactly fluffy little bunnies, though, are they?” said Ron. “They’ve killed plenty of us. They’ve fought dirty too.”
“But arguing with Griphook about whose race is most underhanded and violent isn’t going to make him more likely to help us, is it?”
There was a pause while they tried to think of a way around the problem. Harry looked out of the window at Dobby’s grave. Luna was arranging sea lavender in a jam jar beside the headstone.
“Okay,” said Ron, and Harry turned back to face him, “how’s this? We tell Griphook we need the sword until we get inside the – and then he can have it. There’s a fake in these, isn’t there? We switch them, and give him the fake.”
“Ron, he’d know the difference better than we would!” said Hermione. “He’s the only one who realized there had been a swap!”
“Yeah, but we could – caper before he realizes –”
He quailed beneath the look Hermione was giving him.
“That,” she said quietly, “is despicable. Ask for his help, then double-cross him? And you wonder why goblins don’t like wizards, Ron?”
Ron’s ears had turned red.
“All right, all right! It was the only thing I could think of! What’s your solution, then?”
“We need to offer him something else, something just as valuable.”
“Brilliant, I’ll go and get one of our ancient goblin-made swords and you can gift wrap it.”
Silence fell between them again. Harry was sure that the goblin would accept nothing but the sword, even if they had something as valuable to offer him. Yet the sword was their one, indispensable weapon against the Horcruxes.
He closed his eyes for a moment or two and listened to the rush of the sea. The idea that Gryffindor might have stolen the sword was unpleasant to him: He had always been proud to be a Gryffindor; Gryffindor had been the champion of Muggle-borns, the wizard who had clashed with the pureblood-loving Slytherin….
“Maybe he’s lying,” Harry said, opening his eyes again. “Griphook. Maybe Gryffindor didn’t take the sword. How do we know the goblin version of history’s right?”
“Does it make a difference?” asked Hermione.
“Changes how I feel about it,” said Harry.
He took a deep breath.
“We’ll tell him he can have the sword after he’s helped us get into that vault – but we’ll be careful to avoid telling him exactly /when/ he can have it.”
A grin spread slowly across Ron’s face. Hermione, however, looked alarmed.
“Harry, we can’t –”
“He can have it,” Harry went on, “after we’ve used it on all of the Horcruxes. I’ll make sure he gets it then. I’ll keep my word.”
“But that could be years!” said Hermione.
“I know that, but /he/ needn’t. I won’t be lying… really.”
Harry met her eyes with a mixture of defiance and shame. He remembered the words that had been engraved over the gateway to Nurmengard: FOR THE GREATER GOOD. He pushed the idea away. What choice did they have?
“I don’t like it,” said Hermione.
“Nor do I, much,” Harry admitted.
“Well, I think it’s genius,” said Ron, standing up again. “Let’s go and tell him.”
Back in the smallest bedroom, Harry made the offer, careful to phrase it so as not to give any definite time for the handover of the sword. Hermione frowned at the floor while he was speaking; he felt irritated at her, afraid that she might give the game away. However, Griphook had eyes for nobody but Harry.
“I have your word, Harry Potter, that you will give me the sword of Gryffindor if I help you?”
“Yes,” said Harry.
“Then shake,” said the goblin, holding out his hand.
Harry took it and shook. He wondered whether those black eyes saw any misgivings in his own. Then Griphook relinquished him, clapped his hands together, and said, “So. We begin!”
It was like planning to break into the Ministry all over again. They settled to work in the smallest bedroom, which was kept, according to Griphook’s preference, in semidarkness.
“I have visited the Lestranges’ vault only once,” Griphook told them, “on the occasion I was told to place inside it the false sword. It is one of the most ancient chambers. The oldest Wizarding families store their treasures at the deepest level, where the vaults are largest and best protected….”
They remained shut in the cupboardlike room for hours at a time. Slowly the days stretched into weeks. There was problem after problem to overcome, not least of which was that their store of Polyjuice Potion was greatly depleted.
“There’s really only enough left for one of us,” said Hermione, tilting the thick mudlike potion against the lamplight.
“That’ll be enough,” said Harry, who was examining Griphook’s hand-drawn map of the deepest passageways.
The other inhabitants of Shell Cottage could hardly fail to notice that something was going on now that Harry, Ron and Hermione only emerged for mealtimes. Nobody asked questions, although Harry often felt Bill’s eyes on the three of them at the table, thoughtful, concerned.
The longer they spent together, the more Harry realized that he did not much like the goblin. Griphook was unexpectedly bloodthirsty, laughed at the idea of pain in lesser creatures and seemed to relish the possibility that they might have to hurt other wizards to reach the Lestranges’ vault. Harry could tell that his distaste was shared by the other two, but they did not discuss it. They needed Griphook.
The goblin ate only grudgingly with the rest of them. Even after his legs had mended, he continued to request trays of food in his room, like the still-frail Ollivander, until Bill (following an angry outburst from Fleur) went upstairs to tell him that the arrangement could not continue. Thereafter Griphook joined them at the overcrowded table, although he refused to eat the same food, insisting, instead, on lumps of raw meat, roots, and various fungi.
Harry felt responsible: It was, after all, he who had insisted that the goblin remain at Shell Cottage so that he could question him; his fault that the whole Weasley family had been driven into hiding, that Bill, Fred, George, and Mr. Weasley could no longer work.
“I’m sorry,” he told Fleur, one blustery April evening as he helped her prepare dinner. “I never meant you to have to deal with all of this.”
She had just set some knives to work, chipping up steaks for Griphook and Bill, who had preferred his meat bloody ever since he had been attacked by Greyback. While the knives sliced behind her, her somewhat irritable expression softened.
“‘Arry, you saved my sister’s life, I do not forget.”
This was not, strictly speaking, true, but Harry decided against reminding her that Gabrielle had never been in real danger.
“Anyway,” Fleur went on, pointing her want at a pot of sauce on the stove, which began to bubble at once, “Mr. Ollivander leaves for Muriel’s zis evening. Zat will make zings easier. Ze goblin,” she scowled a little at the mention of him, “can move downstairs, and you, Ron, and Dean can take zat room.”
“We don’t mind sleeping in the living room,” said Harry, who knew that Griphook would thing poorly of having to sleep on the sofa; keeping Griphook happy was essential to their plans. “Don’t worry about us.” And when she tried to protest he went on, “We’ll be off your hands soon too, Ron, Hermione, and I. We won’t need to be here much longer.”
“But, what do you mean?” she said, frowning at him, her wand pointing at the casserole dish now suspended in midair. “Of course you must not leave, you are safe ‘ere!”
She looked rather like Mrs. Weasley as she said it, and he was glad that the back door opened at that moment. Luna and Dean entered, their hair damp from the rain outside and their arms full of driftwood.
“… and tiny little ears,” Luna was saying, “a bit like hippo’s, Daddy says, only purple and hairy. And if you want to call them, you have to hum; they prefer a waltz, nothing too fast….”
Looking uncomfortable, Dean shrugged at Harry as he passed, following Luna into the combined dining and sitting room where Ron and Hermione were laying the dinner table.
Seizing the chance to escape Fleur’s questions, Harry grabbed two jugs of pumpkin juice and followed them.
“… and if you ever come to our house I’ll be able to show you the horn, Daddy wrote to me about it but I haven’t seen it yet, because the Death Eaters took me from the Hogwarts Express and I never got home for Christmas,” Luna was saying, as she and Dean relit the fire.
“Luna, we told you,” Hermione called over to her. “That horn exploded. It came from an Erumpent, not a Crumple-Horned Snorkack –”
“No, it was definitely a Snorkack horn,” said Luna serenely, “Daddy told me. It will probably have re-formed by now, they mend themselves, you know.”
Hermione shook her head and continued laying down forks as Bill appeared, leading Mr. Ollivander down the stairs. The wandmaker still looked exceptionally frail, and he clung to Bill’s arm as the latter supported him, carrying a large suitcase.
“I’m going to miss you, Mr. Ollivander,” said Luna, approaching the old man.
“And I you, my dear,” said Ollivander, patting her on the shoulder.
“You were an inexpressible comfort to me in that terrible place.”
“So, au revoir, Mr. Ollivander,” said Fleur, kissing him on both cheeks. “And I wonder whezzer you could oblige me by delivering a package to Bill’s Auntie Muriel? I never returned ‘er tiara.”
“It will be an honor,” said Ollivander with a little bow, “the very least I can do in return for your generous hospitality.”
Fleur drew out a worn velvet case, which she opened to show the wandmaker. The tiara sat glittering and twinkling in the light from the low-hanging lamp.
“Moonstones and diamonds,” said Griphook, who had sidled into the room without Harry noticing. “Made by goblins, I think?”
“And paid for by wizards,” said Bill quietly, and the goblin shot him a look that was both furtive and challenging.
A strong wind gusted against the cottage windows as Bill and Ollivander set off into the night. The rest of them squeezed in around the table; elbow to elbow and with barely enough room to move, they started to eat. The fire crackled and popped in the grate beside them. Fleur, Harry noticed, was merely playing with her food; she glanced at the window every few minutes; however, Bill returned before they had finished their first course, his long hair tangled by the wind.
“Everything’s fine,” he told Fleur. “Ollivander settled in, Mum and Dad say hello. Ginny sends you all her love, Fred and George are driving Muriel up the wall, they’re still operating an Owl-Order business out of her back room. It cheered her up to have her tiara back, though. She said she thought we’d stolen it.”
“Ah, she eez charmant, your aunt,” said Fleur crossly, waving her wand and causing the dirty plates to rise and form a stack in midair. She caught them and marched out of the room.
“Daddy’s made a tiara,” piped up Luna, “Well, more of a crown, really.”
Ron caught Harry’s eye and grinned; Harry knew that he was remembering the ludicrous headdress they had seen on their visit to Xenophilius.
“Yes, he’s trying to re-create the lost diadem of Ravenclaw. He thinks he’s identified most of the main elements now. Adding the billywig wings really made a difference –”
There was a bang on the front door. Everyone’s head turned toward it. Fleur came running out of the kitchen, looking frightened; Bill jumped to his feed, his wand pointing at the door; Harry, Ron, and Hermione did the same. Silently Griphook slipped beneath the table, out of sight.
“Who is it?” Bill called.
“It is I, Remus John Lupin!” called a voice over the howling wind. Harry experienced a thrill of fear; what had happened? “I am a werewolf, married to Nymphadora Tonks, and you, the Secret-Keeper of Shell Cottage, told me the address and bade me come in an emergency!”
“Lupin,” muttered Bill, and he ran to the door and wrenched it open.
Lupin fell over the threshold. He was white-faced, wrapped in a traveling cloak, his graying hair windswept. He straightened up, looked around the room, making sure of who was there, then cried aloud, “It’s a boy! We’ve named him Ted, after Dora’s father!”
Hermione shrieked.
“Wha –? Tonks – Tonks has had the baby?”
“Yes, yes, she’s had the baby!” shouted Lupin. All around the table came cries of delight, sighs of relief: Hermione and Fleur both squealed, “Congratulations!” and Ron said, “Blimey, a baby!” as if he had never heard of such a thing before.
“Yes – yes – a boy,” said Lupin again, who seemed dazed by his own happiness. He strode around the table and hugged Harry; the scene in the basement of Grimmauld Place might never have happened.
“You’ll be godfather?” he said as he released Harry.
“M-me?” stammered Harry.
“You, yes, of course – Dora quite agrees, no one better –”
“I – yeah – blimey –”
Harry felt overwhelmed, astonished, delighted; now Bill was hurrying to fetch wine, and Fleur was persuading Lupin to join them for a drink.
“I can’t stay long, I must get back,” said Lupin, beaming around at them all: He looked years younger than Harry had ever seen him. “Thank you, thank you, Bill”
Bill had soon filled all of their goblets, they stood and raised them high in a toast.
“To Teddy Remus Lupin,” said Lupin, “a great wizard in the making!”
“‘Oo does ‘e look like?” Fleur inquired.
“I think he looks like Dora, but she thinks he is like me. Not much hair. It looked black when he was born, but I swear it’s turned ginger in the hour since. Probably blond by the time I get back. Andromeda says Tonks’s hair started changing color the day that she was born.” He drained his goblet. “Oh, go on then, just one more,” he added, beaming, as Bill made to fill it again.
The wind buffeted the little cottage and the fire leapt and crackled, and Bill was soon opening another bottle of wine. Lupin’s news seemed to have taken them out of themselves, removed them for a while from their state of siege: Tidings of new life were exhilarating. Only the goblin seemed untouched by the suddenly festive atmosphere, and after a while he slunk back to the bedroom he now occupied alone. Harry thought he was the only one who had noticed this, until he saw Bill’s eyes following the goblin up the stairs.
“No… no… I really must get back,” said Lupin at last, declining yet another goblet of wine. He got to his feet and pulled his traveling cloak back around himself.
“Good-bye, good-bye – I’ll try and bring some pictures in a few day’s time – they’ll all be so glad to know that I’ve seen you –”
He fastened his cloak and made his farewells, hugging the women and grasping hands with the men, then, still beaming, returned into the wild night.
“Godfather, Harry!” said Bill as they walked into the kitchen together, helping clear the table. “A real honor! Congratulations!”
As Harry set down the empty goblets he was carrying, Bill pulled the door behind him closed, shutting out the still-voluble voices of the others, who were continuing to celebrate even in Lupin’s absence.
“I wanted a private word, actually, Harry. It hasn’t been easy to get an opportunity with the cottage this full of people.”
Bill hesitated.
“Harry, you’re planning something with Griphook.”
It was a statement, not a question, and Harry did not bother to deny it. He merely looked at Bill, waiting.
“I know goblins,” said Bill. “I’ve worked for Gringotts ever since I left Hogwarts. As far as there can be friendship between wizards and goblins, I have goblin friends – or, at least, goblins I know well, and like.” Again, Bill hesitated.
“Harry, what do you want from Griphook, and what have you promised him in return?”
“I can’t tell you that,” said Harry. “Sorry, Bill.”
The kitchen door opened behind them; Fleur was trying to bring through more empty goblets.
“Wait,” Bill told her, “Just a moment.”
She backed out and he closed the door again.
“Then I have to say this,” Bill went on. “If you have struck any kind of bargain with Griphook, and most particularly if that bargain involves treasure, you must be exceptionally careful. Goblin notions of ownership, payment, and repayment are not the same as human ones.”
Harry felt a slight squirm of discomfort, as though a small snake had stirred inside him.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“We are talking about a different breed of being,” said Bill. “Dealings between wizards and goblins have been fraught for centuries – but you’ll know all that from History of Magic. There has been fault on both sides, I would never claim that wizards have been innocent. However, there is a belief among some goblins, and those at Gringotts are perhaps most prone to it, that wizards cannot be trusted in matters of gold and treasure, that they have no respect for goblin ownership.”
“I respect –” Harry began, but Bill shook his head.
“You don’t understand, Harry, nobody could understand unless they have lived with goblins. To a goblin, the rightful and true master of any object is the maker, not the purchaser. All goblin made objects are, in goblin eyes, rightfully theirs.”
“But it was bought –”
“– then they would consider it rented by the one who had paid the money. They have, however, great difficulty with the idea of goblin-made objects passing from wizard to wizard. You saw Griphook’s face when the tiara passed under his eyes. He disapproves. I believe he thinks, as do the fiercest of his kind, that it ought to have been returned to the goblins once the original purchaser died. They consider our habit of keeping goblin-made objects, passing them from wizard to wizard without further payment, little more than theft.”
Harry had an ominous feeling now; he wondered whether Bill guessed more than he was letting on.
“All I am saying,” said Bill, setting his hand on the door back into the sitting room, “is to be very careful what you promise goblins, Harry. It would be less dangerous to break into Gringotts than to renege on a promise to a goblin.”
“Right,” said Harry as Bill opened the door, “yeah. Thanks. I’ll bear that in mind.”
As he followed Bill back to the others a wry thought came to him, born no doubt of the wine he had drunk. He seemed set on ––– to become just as reckless a godfather to Teddy Lupin as Sirius Black had been to him.
比尔和芙蓉的房子独自座落在海边的悬崖上，墙上涂着白色的石灰，嵌满了贝壳。这是一个僻静而美丽的地方。无论在这栋房子或者后花园的哪里，哈利都能听见汹涌的海水伴着潮汐的声音，就如同一只巨大的沉睡的动物在呼吸。接下来的几天哈利大部分的时间都是找着各种借口不和他们一起呆在拥挤的小屋里，而是沉浸在这令人心驰神往的这悬崖海景中，感受着辽阔的天空与海洋，体味着吹在他脸上咸咸的冷风。
　　他决定不参与伏地魔争夺魔杖的暴行依然使哈利害怕。一直以来他就无法选择不去采取行动。他怀疑无论在哪里只要他们聚到一起，罗恩就会一直不停地发问：
　　“要是邓布利多想要我们尽快解出那个标记而获得魔杖呢？”“要是解出这个只意味味这我们‘值得’得到圣物呢？”“哈利，如果那真的是长老魔杖，我们要怎样才能结果了那该死的神秘人呢？”
　　哈利答不出来：有那么一阵子他也在想为什么没有试着在伏地魔破坏坟墓之前直接硬碰硬地去阻止他。他甚至不能圆满地解释为什么他要反对：每次他试图重新罗列那些曾经帮他作出决定的内心论据时，就发现它们听起来对于他很无力。
　　还有赫敏的支持让他感觉到了和罗恩的疑虑一样的困惑。她现在勉强接受了长老魔杖是真的存在，但还继续坚持认为它是邪恶的，说伏地魔拿到它的方式是不能接受的，不应该被考虑。
　　“你绝对不可以那么做，哈利，”她一次又一次地说：“你不能破坏邓布利多的坟墓。”
　　但是对于看到邓布利多尸体这个想法给哈利的震惊，远比不上他可能曾误解了邓布利多生前的意图这一点。他觉得自己仍旧在黑暗中摸索；他选择了他的路但仍在回忆过去，他不知道自己是否误解了那个信号，是否不应该另想办法。有时，他对邓布利多的气愤就像波涛拍打着小屋下的峭壁一样向他涌来，他气邓布利多生前为什么没有向他解释明白。
　　“但是他真的死了吗？”在他们到达小屋的三天后，罗恩问。当罗恩和赫敏找到哈利的时候，他正目不转睛地盯着那堵隔开花园和峭壁的墙。哈利真不希望他们找到他，他不想加入争论。
　　“是的，他死了。罗恩，拜托不要再提了！”
　　“赫敏，面对现实吧，”罗恩不顾继续凝视着海平线的哈利说“银色的雌鹿，剑，哈里从镜子里看到的眼睛——”
　　“哈利都说了眼睛是他自己想象出来的！是不是哈利？”
　　“是，”哈利没有去看她
　　“但你所做的并不是你想得，是不是？”罗恩问。
　　“嗯，不是。”
　　“这就是了嘛！”罗恩在赫敏能插上嘴之前飞快地说。“要不是邓布利多，你如何解释多比怎么知道我们在地窖里的呢，赫敏？”
　　“我解释不了——但你就能解释邓布利多怎么样在霍格沃茨的坟墓里派他来吗？”
　　“我不知道，可以是鬼魂的形式啊！”
　　“邓布利多不会以鬼魂的形式回来的，”哈利说。现在他对于邓布利多，能肯定的太少了，不过这一点他是确信的。“他会继续的。”
　　“‘继续’？什么意思？”罗恩问，但在哈利回答之前，后面向起了一个声音：“阿利？”
　　芙蓉已经从房子里走了出来，银色的长发随风飞舞。
　　“阿利，阿环想要和你谈谈，他在那间最小的卧室里呢，他说他不想来这偷听。”
　　芙蓉显然不喜欢妖精使唤她传话，她转身走进房子的时候看起来很生气。
　　他们走进赫敏和卢娜住的那间最小的卧室的时候，拉环正如芙蓉所说的正在等着他们。他把窗帘拉上了，挡住了白云朵朵的晴朗天空，原本通风明亮的小屋笼罩再一片烈焰一般的红色之中。
　　“我已经决定了，哈利波特，”妖精说，他正盘腿坐在一只矮凳上，狭长的手指拍着自己的胳膊。“尽管古灵阁的妖精们会叛变，但是我决定帮助你——”
　　“太好了！” 哈利欣慰地说“拉环，谢谢你，我们真是——”
　　“作为报答，”妖精坚定地说，“要偿还的。”
　　有点受挫， 哈利犹豫了。
　　“你想要多少？我有金币。”
　　“不要金币，”拉环说“我有的是。”
　　他黑色的眼睛闪闪发光，它的眼睛中根本没有眼白。
　　“我想要那把剑。高维克·格来芬多的宝剑。”
　　哈利的心沉了下去。
　　“我不能给你，”他说“我很抱歉。”
　　“这样的话，”妖精轻轻地说“我们之间就有问题了。”
　　“我们可以给你些别的东西，”罗恩热情地说“我敢打赌莱斯特兰奇肯定弄到了不少东西，一旦我们进入了金库你就可以拿走你那份。”
　　可是罗恩说错话了。拉环生气地涨红了脸。
　　“我不是贼！孩子！我不会试图去获得我不应有的财富！”
　　“那剑是我们的——”
　　“它不是。”妖精说
　　“我们是格来芬多的，它是高维克·格来芬多的——”
　　“那在格来芬多拥有它之前，它又是谁的？”妖精坐直了身体，问道。
　　“不是谁的，”罗恩说，“剑就是为他做的，不是吗？”
　　“不是！”妖精喊，用它那狭长的手指火冒三丈地指着罗恩。“又是巫师们的高傲自大！那把剑最开始是雷格努克的，高维克·格来芬多是从他那拿走的！是丢失的财宝，这把剑是妖精的杰作！它属于妖精！它就是我的报酬，给还是不给，你看着办吧！“
　　拉环怒视着他们。哈里瞥了一眼另外两个人，说：“我们需要讨论一下，拉环，如果可以的话，你是不是可以给我们几分钟？”
　　妖精点了点头，有点酸溜溜地看向空旷的起居室里的楼梯。哈利走向炉火旁，皱起了眉头，努力地想到底要怎么办。罗恩在他身后说：“他开什么玩笑，我们不能给他那把剑。”
　　“是真的吗？”哈利问赫敏：“剑是格来芬多偷来的吗？”
　　“我不知道，”她绝望地说“魔法史总是略过了那些巫师对别的魔法种族做的事，但我知道的记载中没有说过格来芬多的剑是偷来的。”
　　“这肯定是妖精的谎话，”罗恩说，“一个关于巫师是怎样欺压它们的谎话。我觉得他没管我们要我们的魔杖已经够幸运的了。”
　　“妖精们可有理由讨厌巫师，罗恩。”赫敏说“过去他们的待遇猪狗不如。”
　　“妖精不就是些毛茸茸的小家伙，不是吗？”罗恩说“他们杀害了我们不少人，他们的斗争手段可真卑鄙。
　　“但是同拉环争论谁的种族更卑鄙更暴力并不会让他更愿意帮助我们，不是吗？”
　　他们都沉默了，试图找出一种能解决问题的办法。哈利看着窗外多比的坟墓。卢娜正在墓碑旁把海草做成果酱。
　　“好吧”罗恩说，哈利转身面向他，“这样如何？我们就和拉环说在我们进入到金库之前我们都需要那把剑，之后再给他。但那里的那个是假的，怎么样？我们调一下包，把假的那个给他。”
　　“罗恩，他比我们更能分辨真假！”赫敏说“他是唯一知道它被换过的人！”
　　“是，但是我们可以在他意识到之前掉包……”
　　他有点心虚地迎着赫敏投来的目光。
　　“那么做，”她平静地说，“是很卑鄙的。请他帮忙，还欺骗他？你知道为什么妖精们都不喜欢巫师吗，罗恩？”
　　罗恩的脸红到了耳朵根子。
　　“好吧，好吧！这是我能想到的唯一办法了！那你有什么办法？”
　　“我们得给他点别的东西，别的同等价值的东西。”
　　“哈，高明啊。那我去再找一把妖精做的古剑，你来打包装呗~”
　　他们再一次沉默了。哈利肯定妖精除了宝剑什么都不想要，即使他们给他同等价值的东西。尽管那剑仍然是他们的对抗魂器不可或缺的武器。
　　哈利闭上眼睛，静静地听着海浪声。宝剑是格来芬多偷来的这个想法让他很不愉快：他一直以自己是格来芬多的人而引以为傲；格来芬多的麻瓜出身孩子最多，那些追崇纯血统的人更乐意去斯莱特林。
　　“或许他在撒谎，”哈利再次睁开了眼睛“拉环在撒谎。也许格来芬多并不是拿走了宝剑，我们就怎么知道妖精对历史的评判就是站在一个正确的角度呢？”
　　“那又有什么分别？”赫敏问。
　　“能让我感觉好点。”哈利说，他深深地吸了口气。
　　“我们告诉他在他帮我们进入金库以后他可以得到宝剑——但我们要尽力避免承诺他到底何时才能给他。”
　　罗恩渐渐露出了笑容，赫敏却看起来很紧张。
　　“哈利，我们不能——”
　　“他可以得到它，”哈利继续说“在我们用它对付了所有魂器之后。我保证他那时才可以得到宝剑。我说话算话。”
　　“但那可能是好几年之后了！”赫敏说。
　　“我知道，但他不知道。我这样……也不算撒谎。”
　　哈利充满挑战而又有点内疚地看着她。他还记得刻在去往努尔蒙德的路上的那句话：为了更大的利益。他撇开了思绪。他又有什么选择呢？
　　“我可不喜欢这个主意。”赫敏说
　　“我也不喜欢，不是很喜欢。”哈利承认。
　　“可我觉得这主意太棒了，”罗恩站了起来“我们去和他讲吧。”
　　他们回到那间小卧室，哈利答应了他，尽力避免任何能关于何时给他宝剑的
　　承诺。他们谈话的时候赫敏一直在旁边皱着眉头盯着地板；哈利觉得很生气，怕她破坏这个计划。但拉环却是除了哈利谁也不看。
　　“我记住你的话了，哈利波特，也就是说如果我帮你的话你就会给我格来芬多的宝剑？”
　　“对。”哈利答道。
　　“成交。”妖精伸出了他的手说。
　　哈利和他握了握手。他不知道拉环那双黑眼睛是否看出了他的疑虑。然后拉环放开了他的手，拍了拍手掌，“那么，我们开始吧！”
　　就像计划要再次攻入魔法部一样，由着拉环的选择，他们在这半昏暗的小屋中开始了工作。
　　“我只去过莱斯特兰奇'的金库一次，”拉环说，“那次我只是被安排去在里面放一把假剑。那是最古老的库房之一。最古老的巫师家庭把他们的财产贮存在最深处，那里的金库最大，受到的保护也最好……”
　　他们在这个小的就像壁橱一样的房间里一呆就是几个小时，这几天弄得就像几星期那么长。问题一个接一个地涌现，需要解决，比如他们库存的复方汤剂要用完了。
　　“只剩下够一个人的量了。”赫敏说，在灯光下搅合着泥巴似的汤剂。
　　“够用了，”哈利说，他正察看着拉环手绘的最深区的地图。
　　住在贝壳小宅里的无法不注意到哈利、赫敏和罗恩正在做着些什么事情，因为他们只是在吃饭的时候才会出现。但没有人去问他们，尽管哈利觉得饭桌上比尔看他们三个人的眼神中充满了思索与关心。
　　他们呆在一起的时间越长，哈利就越觉得自己真是不喜欢妖精。拉环是出乎意料的残忍，他总是在嘲笑他们要决定尽可能牺牲少的生灵的主意，看起来他总是想要伤害别的巫师才能到达莱斯特兰奇的金库。哈利能够感觉到其他两人也对拉环有些厌恶。但他们并没有讨论他，他们需要拉环。
　　这个妖精只是勉强地吃些他们的剩饭。即使是他的腿现在好了，他还是要求把食物拿到小屋里来吃，就像还很虚弱的奥利维德一样，直到比尔（后面跟着发怒的芙蓉）上来说不能再这样安排了。这以后拉环就加入了他们拥挤的餐桌，尽管他拒绝吃同样的食物，坚持要吃死金丝鸟、生肉和各种真菌。
　　哈利觉得这是他的责任：不管怎样，是他坚持让妖精留在贝壳小宅中，这样他才能继续问他问题；因为他的原因整个韦斯莱家都不得不躲起来。比尔，费雷德，乔治，还有韦斯莱先生都不再工作了。
　　“我很抱歉，”四月的一个大风的下午他帮芙蓉准备晚饭的时候对她说：“我真的不是有意让你们承受这些的。”
　　而她只是指挥着一些小刀来给比尔和拉环切牛排，自从比尔被格雷伯克袭击以后她就得给他准备带血的生肉了。刀子在她身后飞舞着切肉，她不知怎么表情变得如此温柔。
　　“阿利，你救过我妹妹的命，我不会忘记。”
　　严格的说，并不是这样，但是哈利决定不去提醒她加里布尔当时并没有真的处于危险之中。
　　“不管怎样，”芙蓉继续说，把她的魔杖指向炉子上的一壶正咕嘟泡的酱，“奥利维德先生今晚上就要去穆莉尔家了，介（这）些事就不用那么麻烦了，辣（那）个妖精，”哈利注意到她皱了一下眉。“就可以住楼下了，你和罗恩、迪安就可以住哈（他）的房间了”
　　“我们不介意睡在起居室里，”哈里知道拉环会觉得睡在沙发上很憋屈；让拉环觉得舒服时他们计划的重点。“别担心我们。”在她要决定以前哈利继续说“我们不久也会离开你家了，我和罗恩、赫敏，我们不能在这呆太长时间的。”
　　“可，你这什么意思啊？”芙蓉皱着眉问他，她指挥着菜盘子的魔杖停在了半空中。“你当然可以不必走，你在饿（这）里很安全！”
　　她说这话的时候看起来很像韦斯莱夫人，哈里很庆幸后门这时开了。卢娜和迪安进来了，他们的头发被雨浇透了，胳膊上全是木屑。
　　“……还有小耳朵”卢娜正说着，“有点像河马的，我爸爸说，只有紫色多毛的。你要是想呼唤他们，你只能对他们哼曲儿；它们更喜欢跳华尔兹，不是太快……”
　　迪安经过哈利的时候很不舒服地耸了耸肩，他跟着卢娜进了那个既当餐厅又当起居室的厅里，罗恩和赫敏正在摆桌子。哈利抓住这个避免回答芙蓉问题的机会，拿起两壶南瓜汁跟上他们。
　　“……你要是来我家我就给你看看那只角，爸爸写信告诉我的，我还没看过呢，因为食死徒把我从霍格沃茨特快上劫走了，我圣诞节也没回家，”卢娜和迪安坐到火炉旁时她说。
　　“卢娜，我们告诉过你了，”赫敏说“那只角已经破了。它是毒角兽身上的，而不是什么弯角鼾兽”
　　“才不是呢，他绝对是弯角鼾兽的角，”卢娜严肃地说“我爸爸说了，它到现在还不能重新组合，他们自己进化。”
　　赫敏摇了摇头，继续摆放刀叉。这时比尔搀着奥利维德先生从楼梯上下来了。这个魔杖制造商看起来人就非常虚弱地靠着比尔，比尔在他身后提着一只大行李箱，搀扶着他
　　“我们会想你的，奥利维德先生，”卢娜走近了那个老人。
　　“我也会想你的，亲爱的。” 奥利维德拍了拍她的肩膀：“你在那个可怕的地方给了我很大的安慰。”
　　“au revoir（法语）,奥利维德先生”芙蓉吻了吻他的双颊：“是什么力量驱使您给比尔的阿姨穆莉尔送包裹的呢？我从来就没有收到过这样漂亮的头饰。”
　　“我很荣幸这么做，” 奥利维德鞠了一躬说到：“这是我能对你热情的款待所作的最小的回报了”
　　芙蓉拉出一个旧天鹅绒箱子，打开来展示给他看。王冠在昏暗的灯光下闪闪发光。
　　“月长石和钻石，”拉环说，哈利没有注意到他什么时候蹭到屋子里来了，“妖精做的，是吧？”
　　“妖精为巫师做的。”比尔平静地说，妖精用挑衅的目光偷偷看了一眼他。
　　比尔和奥利维德推开门走进夜色中时一阵强风涌了进来。剩下的人挤在了饭桌旁，胳膊肘几乎都没有地方挪动，这样，他们开始吃饭了。他们身旁的炉火噼啪作响。哈利注意到芙蓉几乎一直就是在拨弄着盘里的食物；她每隔几分钟都要看一眼窗外。比尔在他们吃完第一道菜的时候才回来。他长长的头发随风舞动着。
　　“一切都很顺利，”他和芙蓉说，“奥利维德已经安置好了，爸爸妈妈向你们问好，金妮也让我带好，弗雷德和乔治让穆莉尔非常恼火，他们依旧在她的密室里做着猫头鹰订单的生意。阿姨很高兴王冠失而复得。她说她以为我们把它偷走了。”
　　“啊呀，你阿姨还真迷人。”芙蓉说，以便挥舞着魔杖把那些在盘子升到在半空中，她指挥着它们从屋中列队而出。
　　“我爸爸做了个王冠，”卢娜说“嗯，是个花冠呢。”
　　罗恩和哈利对视了一下嘿嘿笑了；哈利还记得他们去拜访谢农费里厄斯时她戴的那个可笑的头饰。
　　“是啊，他想再造一个拉文克劳的花冠。他觉得他现在能认出大多数的零件。还有那个短粗翅膀真的能分出——”
　　前门突然发出砰的一声向。大家都转过头去看。芙蓉从厨房里跑了出来，看起来吓坏了；比尔跳了起来，魔杖对准了门；哈利、罗恩和赫敏也是。拉环悄悄地出溜到了桌子底下。
　　“谁？”比尔喊道。
　　“是我，莱姆斯 约翰 卢平！”咆哮的风中一个声音响起。哈利吓了一跳，真的是他吗？“我是狼人，和尼法朵拉
　　唐克斯结婚的那个，你，贝壳小宅的保密人，告诉了我这个地址，说紧急情况下我可以来！”
　　“是卢平。”比尔叨咕着，跑去开门。
　　卢平跌了进来。他脸色苍白，穿着一件旅行斗篷，他定睛看了看站在面前的都有谁，然后喊道：“是个男孩！我们给他取名叫泰德，朵拉父亲的小名！”
　　赫敏尖叫：“什——？唐克斯？——唐克斯生了？”
　　“对，没错，她生了！”卢平喊道。桌边的人都喜悦而欣慰地感叹着；赫敏和芙蓉止不住尖叫。“恭喜恭喜啊！”罗恩说：“哈哈，孩子！”就好像他以前从没听说过这样的事似的。
　　“是啊——是啊——是个男孩，”卢平重复着，他正沉浸在他那巨大的幸福当中。他大步跨到桌子那边拥抱了哈利；这样的场景在格里莫广场可能从来都没发生过。
　　“你会做他的教父吧？”他放开哈利的时候说道。
　　“我——我吗？”哈利结巴了。
　　“对，你，就是你——朵拉非常同意，没人比你更合——”
　　“我——好——天啊——”
　　哈利显得很震惊，激动而又欣喜。比尔匆忙去取来红酒，芙蓉在劝说卢平也加入他们来喝一杯。
　　“我不能在这呆太久，我还得回去，”卢平说，大家都喜气洋洋的：他看上去年轻了好几岁。“谢谢大家，谢谢你，比尔。”
　　比尔迅速把大家的高脚杯斟满了酒，他们举起了酒杯。
　　“为了泰迪·莱姆斯·卢平，”卢平说“一个伟大巫师的诞生！”
　　“他长得像谁啊？”芙蓉问。
　　“我觉得像朵拉，但她觉得像我。头发不多，刚出生的时候是黑色的，但我打赌几小时后就会变成浅黄色。也许我回去后就变成金色的了。安多米达说唐克斯的头发从出生的时候就会变色了。”他一饮而尽：“来，再来点酒。”他喜气洋洋地说，比尔又给他斟满了酒。
　　海风吹打着小宅，屋中的炉火噼啪作响，比尔很快又拿来了另一瓶酒。看起来卢平的消息让大家无比兴奋，让他们在这被围困的形势下松了口气。新生命的诞生总是令人欣喜的。只有拉环对这种喜庆的氛围无动于衷，不一会他就溜回了现在已经是他一个人的卧室。要不是哈利看到比尔也在看着拉环上楼，他还以为只有自己注意到了呢。
　　“不了……不了……我真得回去了，”最后卢平说道，他拒绝了再来一杯。他走过去拽起他的旅行斗蓬披在了身上。
　　“再见，再见——我这几天会尽力给你们带来点照片的——他们要知道我见过你们肯定会很高兴的——”
　　卢平系紧了她的斗蓬和他们告别，他拥抱了女孩子们，和男孩子们逐一握手。然后乐乐呵呵地转身步入了夜色中。
　　“教父阿，哈利！”他们一同走回厨房准备收拾桌子的时候比尔说“多大的荣耀啊！祝贺你！”
　　哈利放下手里的高脚杯时，比尔关上了门，突然一改刚才卢平在时的滔滔不绝：
　　“哈利，我想私下和你说几句。想摆脱这满房子的人也不是那么容易的。”比尔踌躇着。
　　“哈利，你在和拉环一起策划着什么。”
　　哈利肯定比尔说的是陈述句，不是疑问句。他只是看着他，等着他继续说。
　　“我了解妖精，”比尔说：“自从我离开霍格沃茨之后我就在古灵阁工作。巫师和妖精之间还是存在友谊的，我就有一些妖精朋友——至少一些好妖精。”比尔又开始犹豫了。
　　“哈利，你想从拉环那里得到什么？你又答应了给他什么？”
　　“我不能告诉你，”哈利说。“很抱歉，比尔。”
　　厨房的门在他们身后打开了；芙蓉正打算弄进来更多的空杯子。
　　“等一下，”比尔和她说“稍等一下。”
　　她退了出去，关上了门。
　　“那我就必须告诉你，”比尔继续说道“如果你和拉环达成了某种交易，尤其是这种交易还和财产有关，你就得格外小心。妖精对所有权，支付和回报是有着和我们人类完全不同的概念的。
　　哈利突然觉得有点不舒服，就像他体内有一只蛇在蠕动。
　　“什么意思？”他问。
　　“我们谈论的是两个不同的物种，”比尔说：“巫师和妖精之间的交易往来已经有好几个世纪了——自从有魔法史以来。双方都有过过错，我从来不会去说巫师就是清白的。但，妖精有妖精的观念，古灵阁更倾向于它们的。就是巫师们在金银和财产方面是不值得相信的，他们根本不尊重妖精的所有权。
　　“可我尊重——”哈利说，但比尔摇了摇头，
　　“你不明白，哈利，除了和妖精生活在一起的人，没人能明白。对妖精来说，物品的所有权是属于它的制造者的，而不是购买者。在妖精眼里，他们做出来的东西，就是他们自己的。”
　　“但东西被买走了——”
　　“——那它就会被认为是花钱被租走了。他们对妖精做的东西的态度和巫师有着很大的不同。你也看到拉环看到王冠时的脸色了，他根本不赞成我们的想法。我相信他非常的想立刻把王冠送回到制作它的妖精那里。他们觉得我们占有了妖精的东西，还不用继续付费的代代相传，就和贼差不多。”
　　哈利现在有了种不祥的预感，他怀疑比尔是不是知道了更多的东西。
　　“我要说的就是，”比尔把手放在了门上：“你要是答应了妖精什么事情，就要格外小心。背叛妖精可比闯进古灵阁危险多了。”
　　“好的。”比尔打开门的时候哈利说：“我会记住的。”
　　他跟着比尔出来的时候的一个讽刺的想法涌现了出来，无疑是因为酒精的作用。他看起来和小天狼星布莱克一样成了泰迪卢平的一个疯狂的教父。
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Chapter 24 The Wandmaker
It was like sinking into an old nightmare; for an instant Harry knelt again beside Dumbledore’s body at the foot of the tallest tower at Hogwarts, but in reality he was staring at a tiny body curled upon the grass, pierced by Bellatrix’s silver knife. Harry’s voice was still saying, “Dobby…Dobby…” even though he knew that the elf had gone where he could not call him back.
After a minute or so he realized that they had, after all, come to the right place, for here were Bill and Fleur, Dean and Luna, gathering around him as he knelt over the elf. “Hermione,” he said suddenly. “Where is she?”
“Ron’s taken her inside,” said Bill. “She’ll be all right.” Harry looked back down at Dobby. He stretched out a hand and pulled the sharp blade from the elf’s body, then dragged off his own jacket and covered Dobby in it like a blanket.
The sea was rushing against the rock somewhere nearby; Harry listened to it while the others talked, discussing matters in which he could take no interest, making decisions, Dean carried the injured Griphook into the house, Fleur hurrying with them; now Bill was really knowing what he was saying. As he did so, he gazed down at the tiny body, and his scar prickled and burned, and in one part of his mind, viewed as if from the wrong end of a long telescope, he saw Voldemort punishing those they had left behind at the Malfoy Manor. His rage was dreadful and yet Harry’s grief for Dobby seemed to diminish it, so that it became a distant storm that reached Harry from across a vast, silent ocean.
“I want to do it properly,” were the first words of which Harry was fully conscious of speaking. “Not by magic. Have you got a spade?” And shortly afterward he had set to work, alone, digging the grave in the place that Bill had shown him at the end of the garden, between bushes. He dug with a kind of fury, relishing the manual work, glorying in the non-magic of it, for every drop of his sweat and every blister felt like a gift to the elf who had saved their lives.
His scar burned, but he was master of the pain, he felt it, yet was apart from it. He had learned control at last, learned to shut his mind to Voldemort, the very thing Dumbledore had wanted him to learn from Snape. Just as Voldemort had not been able to possess Harry while Harry was consumed with grief for Sirius, so his thoughts could not penetrate Harry now while he mourned Dobby. Grief, it seemed, drove Voldemort out…though Dumbledore, of course, would have said that it was love.
On Harry dug, deeper and deeper into the hard, cold earth, subsuming his grief in sweat, denying the pain in his scar. In the darkness, with nothing but the sound of his own breath and the rushing sea to keep him company, the things that had happened at the Malfoys’ returned to him, the things he had heard came back to him, and understanding blossomed in the darkness…
The steady rhythm of his arms beat time with his thoughts. Hallows…Horcruxes…Hallows…Horcruxes…yet no longer burned with that weird, obsessive longing. Loss and fear had snuffed it out. He felt as though he had been slapped awake again.
Deeper and deeper Harry sank into the grave, and he knew where Voldemort had been tonight, and whom he had killed in the topmost cell of Nurmengard, and why…
And he thought of Wormtail, dead because of one small unconscious impulse of mercy…Dumbledore had foreseen that…How much more had he known?
Harry lost track of time. He knew only that the darkness had lightened a few degrees when he was rejoined by Ron and Dean. “How’s Hermione?”
“Better,” said Ron. “Fleur’s looking after her.” Harry had his retort ready for when they asked him why he had not simply created a perfect grave with his wand, but he did not need it. They jumped down into the hole he had made with spades of their own and together they worked in silence until the hole seemed deep enough.
Harry wrapped the elf more snuggly in his jacket. Ron sat on the edge of the grave and stripped off his shoes and socks, which he placed on the elf’s bare feet. Dean produced a woolen hat, which Harry placed carefully upon Dobby’s head, muffling his batlike ears. “We should close his eyes.”
Harry had not heard the others coming through the darkness. Bill was wearing a traveling cloak, Fleur a large white apron, from the pocket of which protruded a bottle of what Harry recognized to be Skele-Gro. Hermione was wrapped in a borrowed dressing gown, pale and unsteady on her feet; Ron put an arm around her when she reached him. Luna, who was huddled in one of Fleur’s coats, crouched down and placed her fingers tenderly upon each of the elf’s eyelids, sliding them over his glassy stare. “There,” she said softly. “Now he could be sleeping.”
Harry placed the elf into the grave, arranged his tiny limbs so that he might have been resting, then climbed out and gazed for the last time upon the little body. He forced himself not to break down as he remembered Dumbledore’s funeral, and the rows and rows of golden chairs, and the Minister of Magic in the front row, the recitation of Dumbledore’s achievements, the stateliness of the white marble tomb. He felt that Dobby deserved just as grand a funeral, and yet here the elf lay between bushes in a roughly dug hole. “I think we ought to say something,” piped up Luna. “I’ll go first, shall I?”
And as everybody looked at her, she addressed the dead elf at the bottom of the grave. “Thank you so much Dobby for rescuing me from that cellar. It’s so unfair that you had to die when you were so good and brave. I’ll always remember what you did for us. I hope you’re happy now.”
She turned and looked expectingly at Ron, who cleared his throat and said in a thick voice, “yeah…thanks Dobby.”
“Thanks,” muttered Dean. Harry swallowed. “Good bye Dobby,” he said It was all he could manage, but Luna had said it all for him. Bill raised his wand, and the pile of earth beside the grave rose up into the air and fell neatly upon it, a small, reddish mound. “D’ya mind if I stay here a moment?” He asked the others.
They murmured words he did not catch; he felt gentle pats upon his back, and then they all traipsed back toward the cottage, leaving Harry alone beside the elf.
He looked around: There were a number of large white stones, smoothed by the sea, marking the edge of the flower beds. He picked up one of the largest and laid it, pillowlike, over the place where Dobby’s head now rested. He then felt in his pocket for a wand. There were two in there. He had forgotten, lost track; he could not now remember whose wands these were; he seemed to remember wrenching them out of someone’s hand. He selected the shorter of the two, which felt friendlier in his hand, and pointed it at the rock.
Slowly, under his murmured instruction, deep cuts appeared upon the rock’s surface. He knew that Hermione could have done it more neatly, and probably more quickly, but he wanted to mark the spot as he had wanted to dig the grave. When Harry stood up again, the stone read: HERE LIES DOBBY, A FREE ELF.
He looked at his handiwork for a few more seconds, then walked away, his scar still prickling a little, and his mind full of those things that had come to him in the grave, ideas that had taken shape in the darkness, ideas both fascinating and terrible.
They were all sitting in the living room when he entered the little hall, their attention focused upon Bill, who was talking. The room was light-colored, pretty, with a small fire of driftwood burning brightly in the fireplace. Harry did not want to drop mud upon the carpet, so he stood in the doorway, listening.
“…lucky that Ginny’s on holiday. If she’d been at Hogwarts they could have taken her before we reached her. Now we know she’s safe too.” He looked around and saw Harry standing there. “I’ve been getting them all out of the Burrow,” he explained. “Moved them to Muriel’s. The Death Eaters know Ron’s with you now, they’re bound to target the family – don’t apologize,” he added at the sight of Harry’s expression. “It was always a matter of time, Dad’s been saying so for months. We’re the biggest blood traitor family there is.”
“How are they protected?” asked Harry. “Fidelius Charm. Dad’s Secret-Keeper. And we’ve done it on this cottage too; I’m Secret-Keeper here. None of us can go to work, but that’s hardly the most important thing now. Once Ollivander and Griphook are well enough, we’ll move them to Muriel’s too. There isn’t much room here, but she’s got plenty. Griphook’s legs are on the mend. Fleur’s given him Skele-Growe could probably move them in an hour or – ”
“No,” Harry said and Bill looked startled. “I need both of them here. I need to talk to them. It’s important.” He heard the authority of his own voice, the conviction, the voice of purpose that had come to him as he dug Dobby’s grave. All of their faces were turned toward him looking puzzled.
“I’m going to wash,” Harry told Bill looking down at his hands still covered with mud and Dobby’s blood. “Then I’ll need to see them, straight away.” He walked into the little kitchen, to the basin beneath a window overlooking the sea. Dawn was breaking over the horizon, shell pink and faintly gold, as he washed, again following the train of thought that had come to him in the dark garden…
Dobby would never be able to tell them who had sent him to the cellar, but Harry knew what he had seen. A piercing blue eye had looked out of the mirror fragment, and then help had come. Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.
Harry dried his hands, impervious to the beauty of the scene outside the window and to the murmuring of the others in the sitting room. He looked out over the ocean and felt closer, this dawn, than ever before, closer to the heart of it all.
And still his scar prickled, and he knew that Voldemort was getting there too. Harry understood and yet did not understand. His instinct was telling him one thing, his brain quite another. The Dumbledore in Harry’s head smiled, surveying Harry over the tips of his fingers, pressed together as if in prayer.
You gave Ron the Deluminator…You understood him…You gave him a way back…
And you understood Wormtail too…You knew there was a bit of regret there, somewhere…
And if you knew them…What did you know about me, Dumbledore?
Am I meant to know but not to seek? Did you know how hard I’d feel that? Is that why you made it this difficult? So I’d have time to work that out?
Harry stood quite still, eyes glazed, watching the place where a bright gold ray of dazzling sun was rising over the horizon. Then he looked down at his clean hands and was momentarily surprised to see the cloth he was holding in them. He set it down and returned to the hall, and as he did so, he felt his scar pulse angrily, and then flashed across his mind, swift as the reflection of a dragonfly over water, the outline of a building he knew extremely well.
Bill and Fleur were standing at the foot of the stairs.
“I need to speak to Griphook and Ollivander,” Harry said.
“No,” said Fleur. “You will ‘ave to wait, ‘Arry. Zey are both too tired – ”
“I’m sorry,” he said without heat, “but it can’t wait. I need to talk to them now. Privately – and separately. It’s urgent.”
“Harry, what the hell’s going on?” asked Bill. “You turn up here with a dead house-elf and a half-conscious goblin, Hermione looks as though she’s been tortured, and Ron’s just refused to tell me anything – ”
“We can’t tell you what we’re doing,” said Harry flatly. “You’re in the Order, Bill, you know Dumbledore left us a mission. We’re not supposed to talk about it to anyone else.”
Fleur made an impatient noise, but Bill did not look at her; he was staring at Harry. His deeply scarred face was hard to read. Finally, Bill said, “All right. Who do you want to talk to first?”
Harry hesitated. He knew what hung on his decision. There was hardly any time left; now was the moment to decide: Horcruxes or Hallows?
“Griphook,” Harry said. “I’ll speak to Griphook first.”
His heart was racing as if he had been sprinting and had just cleared an enormous obstacle.
“Up here, then,” said Bill, leading the way.
Harry had walked up several steps before stopping and looking back.
“I need you two as well!” he called to Ron and Hermione, who had been skulking, half concealed, in the doorway of the sitting room.
They both moved into the light, looking oddly relieved.
“How are you?” Harry asked Hermione. “You were amazing – coming up with that story when she was hurting you like that – ”
Hermione gave a weak smile as Ron gave her a one-armed squeeze.
“What are we doing now, Harry?” he asked.
“You’ll see. Come on.”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed Bill up the steep stairs onto a small landing. Three doors led off it.
“In here,” said Bill, opening the door into his and Fleur’s room, it too had a view of the sea, now flecked with gold in the sunrise. Harry moved to the window, turned his back on the spectacular view, and waited, his arms folded, his scar prickling. Hermione took the chair beside the dressing table; Ron sat on the arm.
Bill reappeared, carrying the little goblin, whom he set down carefully upon the bed. Griphook grunted thanks, and Bill left, closing the door upon them all.
“I’m sorry to take you out of bed,” said Harry. “How are your legs?”
“Painful,” replied the goblin. “But mending.”
He was still clutching the sword of Gryffindor, and wore a strange look: half truculent, half intrigued. Harry noted the goblin’s sallow skin, his long thin fingers, his black eyes. Fleur had removed his shoes: His long feet were dirty. He was larger than a house-elf, but not by much. His domed head was much bigger than a human’s.
“You probably don’t remember – ” Harry began.
“ – that I was the goblin who showed you to your vault, the first time you ever visited Gringotts?” said Griphook. “I remember, Harry Potter. Even amongst goblins, you are very famous.”
Harry and the goblin looked at each other, sizing each other up. Harry’s scar was still prickling. He wanted to get through this interview with Griphook quickly, and at the same time was afraid of making a false move. While he tried to decide on the best way to approach his request, the goblin broke the silence.
“You buried the elf,” he said, sounding unexpectedly rancorous. “I watched you from the window of the bedroom next door.”
“Yes,” said Harry.
Griphook looked at him out of the corners of his slanting black eyes.
“You are an unusual wizard, Harry Potter.”
“In what way?” asked Harry, rubbing his scar absently.
“You dug the grave.”
“So?”
Griphook did not answer. Harry rather thought he was being sneered at for acting like a Muggle, but it did not matter to him whether Griphook approved of Dobby’s grave or not. He gathered himself for the attack.
“Griphook, I need to ask – ”
“You also rescued a goblin.”
“What?”
“You brought me here. Saved me.”
“Well, I take it you’re not sorry?” said Harry a little impatiently.
“No, Harry Potter,” said Griphook, and with one finger he twisted the thin black beard upon his chin, “but you are a very odd wizard.”
“Right,” said Harry. “Well, I need some help, Griphook, and you can give it to me.”
The goblin made no sign of encouragement, but continued to frown at Harry as though he had never seen anything like him.
“I need to break into a Gringotts vault.”
Harry had not meant to say it so badly: the words were forced from him as pain shot through his lightning scar and he saw, again, the outline of Hogwarts. He closed his mind firmly. He needed to deal with Griphook first. Ron and Hermione were staring at Harry as though he had gone mad.
“Harry – ” said Hermione, but she was cut off by Griphook.
“Break into a Gringotts vault?” repeated the goblin, wincing a little as he shifted his position upon the bed. “It is impossible.”
“No, it isn’t,” Ron contradicted him. “It’s been done.”
“Yeah,” said Harry. “The same day I first met you, Griphook. My birthday, seven years ago.”
“The vault in question was empty at the time,” snapped the goblin, and Harry understood that even though Griphook had let Gringotts, he was offended at the idea of its defenses being breached. “Its protection was minimal.”
“Well, the vault we need to get into isn’t empty, and I’m guessing its protection will be pretty powerful,” said Harry. “It belongs to the Lestranges.”
He saw Hermione and Ron look at each other, astonished, but there would be time enough to explain after Griphook had given his answer.
“You have no chance,” said Griphook flatly. “No chance at all. If you seek beneath our floors, a treasure that was never yours – ”
“Thief, you have been warned, beware – yeah, I know, I remember,” said Harry. “But I’m not trying to get myself any treasure, I’m not trying to take anything for personal gain. Can you believe that?”
The goblin looked slantwise at Harry, and the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead prickled, but he ignored it, refusing to acknowledge its pain or its invitation.
“If there was a wizard of whom I would believe that they did not seek personal gain,” said Griphook finally, “it would be you, Harry Potter. Goblins and elves are not used to the protection or the respect that you have shown this night. Not from wand-carriers.”
“Wand-carriers,” repeated Harry: The phrase fell oddly upon his ears as his scar prickled, as Voldemort turned his thoughts northward, and as Harry burned to question Ollivander next door.
“The right to carry a wand,” said the goblin quietly, “has long been contested between wizards and goblins.”
“Well, goblins can do magic without wands,” said Ron.
“That is immaterial! Wizards refuse to share the secrets of wand-lore with other magical beings, they deny us the possibility of extending our powers!”
“Well, goblins won’t share any of their magic either,” said Ron. “You won’t tell us how to make swords and armor the way you do. Goblins know how to work metal in a way wizards have never – ”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Harry, noting Griphook’s rising color. “This isn’t about wizards versus goblins or any other sort of magical creature – ”
Griphook gave a nasty laugh.
“But it is, it is precisely that! As the Dark Lord becomes ever more powerful, your race is set still more firmly above mine! Gringotts falls under Wizarding rule, house-elves are slaughtered, and who amongst the wand-carriers protests?”
“We do!” said Hermione. She had sat up straight, her eyes bright. “We protest! And I’m hunted quite as much as any goblin or elf, Griphook! I’m a Mudblood!”
“Don’t call yourself – ” Ron muttered.
“Why shouldn’t I?” said Hermione. “Mudblood, and proud of it! I’ve got no higher position under this new order than you have, Griphook! It was me they chose to torture, back at the Malfoys!”
As she spoke, she pulled aside the neck of the dressing gown to reveal the thin cut Bellatrix had made, scarlet against her throat.
“Did you know that it was Harry who set Dobby free?” she asked. “Did you know that we’ve wanted elves to be freed for years?” (Ron fidgeted uncomfortably on the arm of Hermione’s chair.) “You can’t want You-Know-Who defeated more than we do, Griphook!”
The goblin gazed at Hermione with the same curiousity he had shown Harry.
“What do you seek within the Lestranges’ vault?” he asked abruptly. “The sword that lies inside it is a fake. This is the real one.” He looked from one to the other of them. “I think that you already know this. You asked me to lie for you back there.”
“But the fake sword isn’t the only thing in that vault, is it?” asked Harry. “Perhaps you’ve seen other things in there?”
His heart was pounding harder than ever. He redoubled his efforts to ignore the pulsing of his scar.
The goblin twisted his beard around his finger again.
“It is against our code to speak of the secrets of Gringotts. We are the guardians of fabulous treasures. We have a duty to the objects placed in our care, which were, so often, wrought by our fingers.”
The goblin stroked the sword, and his black eyes roved from Harry to Hermione to Ron and then back again.
“So young,” he said finally, “to be fighting so many.”
“Will you help us?” said Harry. “We haven’t got a hope of breaking in without a goblin’s help. You’re our one chance.”
“I shall… think about it,” said Griphook maddeningly.
“But – ” Ron started angrily; Hermione nudged him in the ribs.
“Thank you,” said Harry.
The goblin bowed his great domed head in acknowledgement, then flexed his short legs.
“I think,” he said, settling himself ostentatiously upon Bill and Fleur’s bed, “that the Skele-Gro has finished its work. I may be able to sleep at last. Forgive me….”
“Yeah, of course,” said Harry, but before leaving the room he leaned forward and took the sword of Gryffindor from beside the goblin. Griphook did not protest, but Harry thought he saw resentment in the goblin’s eyes as he closed the door upon him.
“Little git,” whispered Ron. “He’s enjoying keeping us hanging.”
“Harry,” whispered Hermione, pulling them both away from the door, into the middle of the still-dark landing, “are you saying what I think you’re saying? Are you saying there’s a Horcrux in the Lestranges vault?”
“Yes,” said Harry. “Bellatrix was terrified when she thought we’d been in there, she was beside herself. Why? What did she think we’d seen, what else did she think we might have taken? Something she was petrified You-Know-Who would find out about.”
“But I thought we were looking for places You-Know-Who’s been, places he’s done something important?” said Ron, looking baffled. “Was he ever inside the Lestranges’ vault?”
“I don’t know whether he was ever inside Gringotts,” said Harry. “He never had gold there when he was younger, because nobody left him anything. He would have seen the bank from the outside, though, the first time he ever went to Diagon Alley.”
Harry’s scar throbbed, but he ignored it; he wanted Ron and Hermione to understand about Gringotts before they spoke to Ollivander.
“I think he would have envied anyone who had a key to a Gringotts vault. I think he’d have seen it as a real symbol of belonging to the Wizarding world. And don’t forget, he trusted Bellatrix and her husband. They were his most devoted servants before he fell, and they went looking for him after he vanished. He said it might he came back, I heard him.”
Harry rubbed his scar.
“I don’t think he’d have told Bellatrix it was a Horcrux, though. He never told Lucius Malfoy the truth about the diary. He probably told her it was a treasured possession and asked her to place it in her vault. The safest place in the world for anything you want to hide, Hagrid told me… except for Hogwarts.”
When Harry had finished speaking, Ron shook his head.
“You really understand him.”
“Bits of him,” said Harry. “Bits… I just wish I’d understood Dumbledore as much. But we’ll see. Come on – Ollivander now.”
Ron and Hermione looked bewildered but very impressed as they followed him across the little landing and knocked upon the door opposite Bill and Fleur’s. A weak “Come in!” answered them.
The wandmaker was lying on the twin bed farthest from the window. He had been held in the cellar for more than a year, and tortured, Harry knew, on at least one occasion. He was emaciated, the bones of his face sticking out sharply against the yellowish skin. His great silver eyes seemed vast in their sunken sockets. The hands that lay upon the blanket could have belonged to a skeleton. Harry sat down on the empty bed, beside Ron and Hermione. The rising sun was not visible here. The room faced the cliff-top garden and the freshly dug grave.
“Mr. Ollivander, I’m sorry to disturb you,” Harry said.
“My dear boy,” Ollivander’s voice was feeble. “You rescued us, I thought we would die in that place, I can never thank you… never thank you… enough.”
“We were glad to do it.”
Harry’s scar throbbed. He knew, he was certain, that there was hardly any time left in which to beat Voldemort to his goal, or else to attempt to thwart him. He felt a flutter of panic… yet he had made his decision when he chose to speak to Griphook first. Feigning a calm he did not feel, he groped in the pouch around his neck and took out the two halves of his broken wand.
“Mr. Ollivander, I need some help.”
“Anything. Anything.” Said the wandmaker weakly.
“Can you mend this? Is it possible?”
Ollivander held out a trembling hand, and Harry placed the two barely connected halves in his palm.
“Holly and phoenix feather,” said Ollivander in a tremulous voice. “Eleven inches. Nice and supple.”
“Yes,” said Harry. “Can you –?”
“No,” whispered Ollivander. “I am sorry, very sorry, but a wand that has suffered this degree of damage cannot be repaired by any means that I know of.”
Harry had been braced to hear it, but it was a blow nevertheless. He took the wand halves back and replaced them in the pouch around his neck. Ollivander stared at the place where the shattered wand had vanished, and did not look away until Harry had taken from his pocket the two wands he had brought from the Malfoys’.
“Can you identify these?” Harry asked.
The wandmaker took the first of the wands and held it close to his faded eyes, rolling it between his knobble-knuckled fingers, flexing it slightly.
“Walnut and dragon heartstring,” he said. “Twelve-and-three-quarter inches. Unyielding. This wand belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange.”
“And this one?”
Ollivander performed the same examination.
“Hawthorn and unicorn hair. Ten inches precisely. Reasonably springy. This was the wand of Draco Malfoy.”
“Was?” repeated Harry. “Isn’t it still his?”
“Perhaps not. If you took it – ”
“ – I did – ”
“ – then it may be yours. Of course, the manner of taking matters. Much also depends upon the wand itself. In general, however, where a wand has been won, its allegiance will change.”
There was a silence in the room, except for the distant rushing of the sea.
“You talk about wands like they’ve got feelings,” said Harry, “like they can think for themselves.”
“The wand chooses the wizard,” said Ollivander. “That much has always been clear to those of us who have studied wandlore.”
“A person can still use a wand that hasn’t chosen them, though?” asked Harry.
“Oh yes, if you are any wizard at all you will be able to channel your magic through almost any instrument. The best results, however, must always come where there is the strongest affinity between wizard and wand. These connections are complex. An initial attraction, and then a mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard from the wand.”
The sea gushed forward and backward; it was a mournful sound.
“I took this wand from Draco Malfoy by force,” said Harry. “Can I use it safely?”
“I think so. Subtle laws govern wand ownership, but the conquered wand will usually bend its will to its new master.”
“So I should use this one?” said Ron, pulling Wormtail’s wand out of his pocket and handing it to Ollivander.
“Chestnut and dragon heartstring. Nine-and-a-quarter inches. Brittle. I was forced to make this shortly after my kidnapping, for Peter Pettigrew. Yes, if you won it, it is more likely to do your bidding, and do it well, than another wand.”
“And this holds true for all wands, does it?” asked Harry.
“I think so,” replied Ollivander, his protuberant eyes upon Harry’s face. “You ask deep questions, Mr. Potter. Wandlore is a complex and mysterious branch of magic.”
“So, it isn’t necessary to kill the previous owner to take the possession of a wand?” asked Harry.
Ollivander swallowed.
“Necessary? No, I should not say that it is necessary to kill.”
“There are legends, though,” said Harry, and as his heart rate quickened, the pain in his scar became more intense; he was sure that Voldemort has decided to put his idea into action. “Legends about a wand – or wands – that have been passed from hand to hand by murder.”
Ollivander turned pale. Against the snowy pillow he was light gray, and his eyes were enormous, bloodshot, and bulging with what looked like fear.
“Only one wand, I think,” he whispered.
“And You-Know-Who is interested in it, isn’t he?” asked Harry.
“I – how?” croaked Ollivander, and he looked appealingly at Ron and Hermione for help. “How do you know this?”
“He wanted you to tell him how to overcome the connection between our wands,” said Harry.
Ollivander looked terrified.
“He tortured me, you must understand that! The Cruciatus Curse, I – I had no choice but to tell him what I knew, what I guessed!”
“I understand,” said Harry. “You told him about the twin cores? You said he just had to borrow another wizard’s wand?”
Ollivander looked horrified, transfixed, by the amount that Harry knew. He nodded slowly.
“But it didn’t work,” Harry went on. “Mine still beat the borrowed wand. Do you know why that is?”
Ollivander shook his head slowly as he had just nodded.
“I had… never heard of such a thing. Your wand performed something unique that night. The connection of the twin cores is incredibly rare, yet why your wand would have snapped the borrowed wand, I do not know….”
“We were talking about the other wand, the wand that changes hands by murder. When You-Know-Who realized my wand had done something strange, he came back and asked about that other wand, didn’t he?”
“How do you know this?”
Harry did not answer.
“Yes, he asked,” whispered Ollivander. “He wanted to know everything I could tell him about the wand variously known as the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny, or the Elder Wand.”
Harry glanced sideways at Hermione. She looked flabbergasted.
“The Dark Lord,” said Ollivander in hushed and frightened tones, “had always been happy with the wand I made him – yes and phoenix feather, thirteen-and-a-half inches. – until he discovered the connection of the twin cores. Now he seeks another, more powerful wand, as the only way to conquer yours.”
“But he’ll know soon, if he doesn’t already, that mine’s broken beyond repair,” said Harry quietly.
“No!” said Hermione, sounding frightened. “He can’t know that, Harry, how could he –?”
“Priori Incantatem,” said Harry. “We left your wand and the blackthorn wand at the Malfoys’, Hermione. If they examine them properly, make them re-create the spells they’ve cast lately, they’d see that yours broke mine, they’ll see that you tried and failed to mend it, and they’ll realize that I’ve been using the blackthorn one ever since.”
The little color she had regained since their arrival had drained from her face. Ron gave Harry a reproachful look, and said, “Let’s not worry about that now –”
But Mr. Ollivander intervened.
“The Dark Lord no longer seeks the Elder Wand only for your destruction, Mr. Potter. He is determined to possess it because he believes it will make him truly invulnerable.”
“And will it?”
“The owner of the Elder Wand must always fear attack,” said Ollivander, “but the idea of the Dark Lord in possession of the Deathstick is, I must admit… formidable.”
Harry was suddenly reminded of how unsure, when they first met, of how much he liked Ollivander. Even now, having been tortured and imprisoned by Voldemort, the idea of the Dark Wizard in possession of this wand seemed to enthrall him as much as it repulsed him.
“You – you really think this wand exists, then, Mr. Ollivander?” asked Hermione.
“Oh yes,” said Ollivander. “Yes, it is perfectly possible to trace the wand’s course through history. There are gaps, of, course, and long ones, where it vanishes from view, temporarily lost or hidden; but always it resurfaces. It has certain identifying characteristics that those who are learned in wandlore recognize. There are written accounts, some of them obscure, that I and other wandmakers have made it our business to study. They have the ring of authenticity.”
“So you – you don’t think it can be a fairy tale or a myth?” Hermione asked hopefully.
“No,” said Ollivander. “Whether it needs to pass by murder, I do not know. Its history is bloody, but that may be simply due to the fact that it is such a desirable object, and arouses such passions in wizards. Immensely powerful, dangerous in the wrong hands, and an object of incredible fascination to all of us who study the power of wands.”
“Mr. Ollivander,” said Harry, “you told You-Know-Who that Gregorovitch had the Elder Wand, didn’t you?”
Ollivander turned, if possible, even paler. He looked ghostly as he gulped.
“But how – how do you –?”
“Never mind how I know it,” said Harry, closing his eyes momentarily as his scar burned and he saw, for mere seconds, a vision of the main street in Hogsmeade, still dark, because it was so much farther north. “You told You-Know-Who that Gregorovitch had the wand?”
“It was a rumor,” whispered Ollivander. “A rumor, years and years ago, long before you were born I believe Gregorovitch himself started it. You can see how good it would be for business; that he was studying and duplicating the qualities of the Elder Wand!”
“Yes, I can see that,” said Harry. He stood up. “Mr. Ollivander, one last thing, and then we’ll let you get some rest. What do you know about the Deathly Hallows?”
“The – the what?” asked the wandmaker, looking utterly bewildered.
“The Deathly Hallows.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. Is this still something to do with wands?”
Harry looked into the sunken face and believed that Ollivander was not acting. He did not know about the Hallows.
“Thank you,” said Harry. “Thank you very much. We’ll leave you to get some rest now.”
Ollivander looked stricken.
“He was torturing me!” he gasped. “The Cruciatus Curse… you have no idea….”
“I do,” said Harry, “I really do. Please get some rest. Thank you for telling me all of this.”

He led Ron and Hermione down the staircase. Harry caught glimpses of Bill, Fleur, Luna, and Dean sitting at the table in the kitchen, cups of tea in front of them. They all looked up at Harry as he appeared in the doorway, but he merely nodded to them and continued into the garden, Ron and Hermione behind him. The reddish mound of earth that covered Dobby lay ahead, and Harry walked back to it, as the pain in his head built more and more powerfully. It was a huge effort now to close down the visions that were forcing themselves upon him, but he knew that he would have to resist only a little longer. He would yield very soon, because he needed to know that his theory was right. He must make only one more short effort, so that he could explain to Ron and Hermione.
“Gregorovitch had the Elder Wand a long time ago,” he said, “I saw You-Know-Who trying to find him. When he tracked him down, he found that Gregorovitch didn’t have it anymore: It was stolen from him by Grindelwald. How Grindelwald found out that Gregorovitch had it, I don’t know – but if Gregorovitch was stupid enough to spread the rumor, it can’t have been that difficult.”

Voldemort was at the gates of Hogwarts; Harry could see him standing there, and see too the lamp bobbing in the pre-dawn, coming closer and closer.

“And Grindelwald used the Elder Wand to become powerful. And at the height of his power, when Dumbledore knew he was the only one who could stop him, he dueled Grindelwald and beat him, and he took the Elder Wand.“
“Dumbledore had the Elder Wand?” said Ron. “But then – where is it now?”
“At Hogwarts,” said Harry, fighting to remain with them in the cliff-top garden.
“But then, let’s go!” said Ron urgently. “Harry, let’s go and get it before he does!”
“It’s too late for that,” said Harry. He could not help himself, but clutched his head, trying to help it resist. “He knows where it is. He’s there now.”
“Harry!” Ron said furiously. “How long have you known this – why have we been wasting time? Why did you talk to Griphook first? We could have gone – we could still go – ”
“No,” said Harry, and he sank to his knees in the grass. “Hermione’s right. Dumbledore didn’t want me to have it. He didn’t want me to take it. He wanted me to get the Horcruxes.”
“The unbeatable wand, Harry!” moaned Ron.
“I’m not supposed to… I’m supposed to get the Horcruxes….”

And now everything was cool and dark: The sun was barely visible over the horizon as he glided alongside Snape, up through the grounds toward the lake.
“I shall join you in the castle shortly,” he said in his high, cold voice. “Leave me now.”
Snape bowed and set off back up the path, his black cloak billowing behind him. Harry walked slowly, waiting for Snape’s figure to disappear. It would not do for Snape, or indeed anyone else, to see where he was going. But there were no lights in the castle windows, and he could conceal himself… and in a second he had cast upon himself a Disillusionment Charm that hid him even from his own eyes.
And he walked on, around the edge of the lake, taking in the outlines of the beloved castle, his first kingdom, his birthright….
And here it was, beside the lake, reflected in the dark waters. The white marble tomb, an unnecessary blot on the familiar landscape. He felt again that rush of controlled euphoria, that heady sense of purpose in destruction. He raised the old yew wand: How fitting that this would be its last great act.
The tomb split open from head to foot. The shrouded figure was as long as thin as it had been in life. He raised the wand again.
The wrappings fell open. The face was translucent, pale, sunken, yet almost perfectly preserved. They had left his spectacles on the crooked nose: He felt amused derision. Dumbledore’s hands were folded upon his chest, and there it lay, clutched beneath them, buried with him.
Had the old fool imagined that marble or death would protect the wand? Had he thought that the Dark Lord would be scared to violate his tomb? The spiderlike hand swooped and pulled the wand from Dumbledore’s grasp, and as he took it, a shower of sparks flew from its tip, sparkling over the corpse of its last owner, ready to serve a new master at last.
宛如再次陷进过往的梦魇，那一瞬间，哈利似乎回到了霍格沃兹的高塔下，再一次跪在邓布利多的身旁，而事实上，他双眼紧盯的是那个蜷缩在草地上，身上插着贝拉特里克斯那把银色小刀的尸体。即使哈利知道那小精灵已经离开了，不可能再被唤回来，他仍然一直喊着：“多比，多比！”
　　良久，他才意识到他们已经到了目的地了，比尔，芙蓉，迪安，卢娜都聚在他身边。
　　“赫敏，”他突然喊道，“赫敏呢，她在哪里？”
　　“罗恩把她带进去了，”比尔说，“她会没事的。”哈利转头看了看多比，伸出手把他身上那锋利的小刀拔了出来。接着他脱了自己的夹克，像盖毯子一样把它盖在多比身上。
　　不远处，大海冲击着岩石。哈利对身边的其他人讨论和决定的内容一点都不感兴趣，他侧耳倾听着海浪的声音。迪安把受伤的拉环带进房间里，芙蓉匆忙跟在他们身后，比尔建议把小精灵埋葬，哈利同意了，可是实际上他并不完全知道比尔在说什么。他低头看着那瘦小尸体的时候，头额上的伤疤再次开始灼热疼痛，在头脑中的某个角落里，如同从望远镜的另一端往里看，他看到伏地魔正在马尔福庄园里惩罚着那些被他们甩掉的家伙们。哈利感受到的伏地魔那可怕的愤怒，似乎因多比带来的悲伤而稍稍减弱，那种愤怒仿佛一场遥远的风暴，穿越辽阔寂静的大海，来到哈利身边。
　　“我想用最合适的方式来埋葬它。”这是哈利完全回过神来所说的第一句话，“不用魔法，有铁锨吗？”没过多久，哈利就独自一人开始工作了，比尔带他去了花园尽头的灌木丛旁边，哈利在那里开始挖掘坟墓。他拼命地挖着，不使用任何魔法——因为他是那么的尊敬多比，每一滴晶莹的汗水和每一个水泡都凝结着无尽的感恩之情，就像给这个小精灵的礼物一样，感谢它为救大家而所做的一切。
　　他的伤疤还在发烫，但他控制住了那疼痛，他并不是感觉不到，只是他竭尽全力不去理会那疼痛，他终于成功地学会了驾驭那伤疤，学会了阻止伏地魔对自己思想施加影响，这都是邓布利多希望他能从斯内普身上学到的东西，正如当初哈利为小天狼星感到悲伤时伏地魔不能控制哈利一样。如今，当哈利为多比感到特别难过的时候，伏地魔也一样不能控制哈利。似乎是悲痛让伏地魔远离哈利——邓布利多说过这其实是爱的力量。
　　哈利不断朝深处挖，泥土变得越来越硬，越来越冷，他的汗滴蕴涵着他的悲伤，而同时他也抵抗着头上的疼痛。黑暗中，陪伴在他身边的只有他自己的呼吸声和海浪声。他想起了马尔福家中发生的一切，想起了他听到的那些东西，在黑暗中他突然想明白了。
　　他的双臂随着思想有节奏地运动着，死圣……魂器……死圣……魂器……那疼痛随着这奇怪的强迫性的想法而停止了，他想是失落和担心令它停止的——他幡然醒悟过来。
　　哈利站在坟墓里，坟墓越来越深了，他知道了今晚伏地魔去了哪里，他知道伏地魔在努尔蒙德的顶楼杀的人是谁，知道为什么要杀他…
　　紧接着他想到了虫尾巴，仅仅是因为那潜意识里仁慈而死掉了……邓不里多曾经预见到了这点，那他还预见过别的什么吗？
　　哈利失去了时间的概念，他只知道当罗恩和迪安加入的时候，夜色没有那么深了。“赫敏现在怎样了？”“还不错，”罗恩说，“芙蓉正在照顾着她。”如果他们会问他为什么情愿用铲子而不简简单单地用魔杖制造一个更完美的坟墓，哈利已经准备好了答案，但他们并没有问，大家都跳进了他已经挖了一半的坟墓，然后默默地帮助哈利一起挖，直到这个洞足够深为止。
　　哈利用夹克紧紧地包裹着小精灵，罗恩站在坟墓的边缘，脱掉了鞋和袜子，然后把它们套在精灵的赤足上，迪安拿出了一个羊毛制的帽子，哈利把帽子戴在多比头上，盖住它那蝙蝠一样的耳朵。“我们应该将它的眼睛合上。”
　　在黑暗中，哈利没有听到大家走过来的脚步，比尔穿着旅行用的斗篷，芙蓉的则是很大的白色的围裙，哈利看到围裙口袋里装了一瓶生骨药水。赫敏穿着一条借来的长裙，面色苍白，摇摇晃晃，罗恩搂住了她。卢娜穿着芙蓉的衣服蹲了下来，用手轻轻地将精灵的眼睛合上，“就这样，”她说，“现在它应该可以安息了。”
　　哈利把小精灵放进坟墓，让他那小小的四肢放平，这样，他就可以好好的休息了。然后，哈利从坟墓里爬出来，看了看多比最后一眼。如同在邓不里多的葬礼上一样。那一排排金色的座位，坐在正前排的魔法部长，叙述着邓不里多一生的成就，白色的坚硬的坟墓看上去很庄严，他拼命的克制着自己，以免因为想起那些而崩溃。他忽然意识到多比也应该得到一个很隆重的葬礼，但现在它却只是躺在一个粗糙的矮树丛里的坟墓里。
　　“我想我们应该说点什么，”卢娜说道，“我先说吧，可以吗？”
　　大家看着她，她开始为那处于坟墓中的精灵发表致辞：“感谢多比将我从地窖里拯救了出来，让你在那么勇敢的时候死去是一件多么不公平的事情，我们永远不会忘记你为我们所做的一切，希望你现在可以幸福。”
　　她转过头来，满怀期待地看着罗恩，罗恩清了清嗓子，用沉重的语气说，“感谢多比……”迪安则低声说了句，“谢谢。”“再见了多比。”哈利艰难地说，这是他唯一能做到的事情了，卢娜已经说了该说的一切。比尔举起魔杖，坟墓周围的泥土升到空中，随后平整地覆盖住坟墓，形成了一个小小的，红色的土丘。“你们不介意我在这多呆一会吧？”哈利说。
　　他们说着低低的耳语，他什么都听不到，只是感觉到自己的后背被别人轻轻地拍了几下，然后其他人都回到屋子里面去了，只留下哈利一个人，继续留在多比的身边。
　　他向周围望了望，看到花床的旁边有很多被海水冲刷十分光滑的白色石头。他挑了一个最大的，放到多比头部的那个位置上。然后他在口袋里摸索着魔杖，此时在口袋里放着两根魔杖，分不清哪根才是属于自己的，他似乎记得另一根是从谁的手里抢而来的。哈利拿出比较短的让他觉得更顺手的那一根，对准了那块石头。
　　慢慢地，在他轻声的咒语下，石头的表面出现了深深的划痕，他知道赫敏或许做的更快更好，但他希望这一切能由自己来完成，就像刚才自己亲手来为多比挖坟墓一样。当哈利再次站起来的时候，石头上已经刻好这样几个字：多比长眠于此，一个自由的精灵。
　　他又看了几眼那块石碑，然后慢慢地离开了。额头上的伤疤还是会痛，脑子里充斥着刚才在坟墓中想到的事情，那些在黑暗中成型的既吸引人又可怕的想法。
　　当他走回小客厅的时候，大家都在房间里坐着，注意力集中在正在说话的比尔身上。房间的色调是浅色的，非常漂亮，壁炉里正用枯木生着小火。哈利他不想让身上的泥土搞脏房间的地毯，所以他站在门口倾听着。
　　“……还好金妮在放假，如果她在霍格沃兹的话，他们可能会在我们赶到前就把她抓走了，我们知道她现在是安全的。”他环视一圈，看到哈利站在那里。“我已经让他们离开陋居了，让他们搬到穆莉尔姨妈那里去，食死徒知道了罗恩和你在一起，他们把我们家整个的当作靶子了——不要觉得抱歉。”当他看到哈利的表情时，他又加了一句，“这只是时间的问题，爸爸已经这样说了好几个月，我们是最有号召力的纯血统叛乱者。”
　　“他们进行了什么保护措施？”哈利问。
　　“赤胆忠心魔咒，爸爸是保密人。我们对这个房子也施加了同样的咒语，我是这里的保密人，大家都不能去上班了，但那不重要。一旦奥利凡德和拉环身体复原，我们就把他们也送到穆莉尔姨妈那里去。这里的房间不是很够，但我想她那里的一定很充足。拉环的腿伤正在好转，芙蓉给他擦了生骨药水，或许再过一个小时我们就能把他送走了。”
　　“不，”哈利说，这让比尔感到了吃惊。“我需要他们留在这里，我有事要和他们谈，这很重要。”他在自己的声音里听到了一种威严，还有那份坚定，类似的声音也在他刚才挖掘坟墓的时候出现过。其他人看着他，显得很迷惑。
　　“我要去洗个澡了，”哈利对比尔说，看着自己那满是污泥和多比的鲜血的手，“然后我会去见见他们。”说完他走出了房间，走进了一个小厨房，那里有一个浴缸，靠着一扇可以遥望大海的窗户。太阳从海平线下升了上来，像海滩边的贝壳一样有些粉红，绽放着微弱的金色光芒。洗澡的时候，在黑暗的花园中产生的想法又一次闯进了他的脑海。
　　多比再也不可能告诉他们是谁把他送进地窖的了，但哈利知道他看到了什么，那蓝色的眼睛透过破碎的镜片已经知晓了一切，然后援助就来了。在霍格沃兹，只要你需要，你就可以得到援助。
　　哈利擦干了手，没有被窗外的美景和外面的人声所打动，他看着窗外的大海，觉得这拂晓越来越近了，比以往都更靠近，靠近他的心。
　　伤疤还是会痛，他知道伏地魔也在想着同一件事情。哈利似乎明白却又不是完全明白，他的直觉告诉着他，他的大脑好像不完全属于自己，在脑海里邓布利多正在微笑，用手柔和地抚摸着哈利的头，又像是在祈祷一样双手互扣着。
　　你给了罗恩熄灯器，你理解他，所以你给了他一条退路。
　　你也理解虫尾巴，你知道在他心中某个角落，还保留着一丝悔意。
　　如果你是理解他们的……那你会怎么看待我呢？邓布利多。
　　这一切……是否我最终会找到答案？你知道为了做到这一切我有多么的难受吗？这也是不是正是你让它变得困难的原因？为了让我有足够的时间去解决？
　　哈利仍然静静地站着，双眼无神地看着在海平线上耀眼的太阳发出明亮的光辉，然后他低下头看着自己干净的手，忽然惊讶的看到手里抓的衣服，他放下衣服回到客厅，就在这时，他觉得伤疤愤怒的跳动着，一个想法突然如蜻蜓点水一样划过。他知道那个建筑物是什么了。
　　比尔和芙蓉都站在楼梯的旁边。
　　哈利说：“我想和奥利凡德和拉环谈谈。”
　　“不行，”芙蓉拒绝了，“你必须等等，他们需要休息。”
　　“对不起，”哈利平静地说，“不能再等了。我必须和他们谈一下，私下的、独立的谈话。这是非常紧急的”。
　　“哈利。到底发生什么该死的事情了？”比尔问，“你出现在这里，带着一个死去的小精灵和另一个失去意识的小妖精，赫敏就像受尽了折磨一般，罗恩什么都不愿意告诉我——”
　　“我们不能告诉你我们在做着什么。”哈利平静地说，“我想你最好不要插手，比尔，你是凤凰社的人，你知道邓布利多给了我们一个任务，我们不能把它透漏给任何人。”
　　芙蓉不耐烦地哼了一声，可比尔并没有看她，只是盯着哈利。很难读懂他那带着深深伤疤的脸，终于，比尔说道：“好吧，你想先跟谁谈？”
　　哈利迟疑了，他知道他的决定取决于什么，剩下的时间已经不多，是该做出决定的时候了：魂器？还是死圣？
　　“拉环，”他说，“我要先和拉环谈谈”
　　他的心跳得很快，就像是刚跑完百米冲刺并清除了一个很大的障碍。
　　“这边来吧。”比尔边说边带路。
　　哈利向前走了几步，回过头来说。
　　“我还需要你们两个，”他叫上偷偷地躲在起居室的门后的罗恩和赫敏。
　　他们两个马上走出来，看起来古怪地松了口气。
　　“还好吗？”哈利问赫敏，“你真令我惊讶，在她那样地伤害你时还能想出了那个故事。”
　　赫敏虚弱地笑了笑。罗恩用一只胳膊搂住了她。
　　“我们要去做什么，哈利？”他问。
　　“等会你就知道了，来吧”
　　哈利，赫敏，罗恩跟着比尔走上台阶，来到狭窄的楼梯平台，这里有三扇门。
　　“来这里，”比尔说着打开他和芙蓉房间，这里也可以看到大海，太阳正缓缓升起，海面泛着金色的光斑。哈利走向窗户，背对着那壮观的景色，双手合抱，等待着，他的伤疤隐隐作痛。赫敏坐在梳妆台前的椅子上，罗恩坐在扶手上。
　　比尔再次出现时，带来了一个小妖精，他小心地把小妖精放在床上，拉环咕哝地说了声“谢谢”，然后比尔走出房把门关上，只留下他们。
　　“我很抱歉要把你从床上叫出来。”哈利说，“你的脚怎样了？”
　　“很痛，”它回答说，“但正在愈合。”
　　他还是紧紧地握着格兰芬多的宝剑，带着一副很奇怪的表情，一半凶狠，一半好奇，哈利看着它菜色的皮肤，细长的手指和黑色的眼睛，芙蓉已经把它的鞋给脱了：他那长长的脚上很脏，他比一个家养小精灵大，但不是大很多，可他那秃顶的头远远大于人类的头。
　　“或许你已经不记得了，”哈利说，
　　“在你第一次来到古灵阁的时候，我是带你到你的金库去的那个小妖精？”拉环说，“我记得，哈利波特，甚至在妖精的世界里，你也是非常出名的。”
　　哈利和拉环相互对视着，也在估量着对方，哈利的伤疤还是在痛，他想快点结束和拉环的谈话，同时却又担心说错话，正当他考虑着该如何开口时，拉环先打破了沉默。
　　“你埋了那个精灵，”他说，口气里意外的带着怨恨，“我是透过隔壁睡房的窗口看到的。”
　　“是的，”哈利说。
　　拉环那斜斜的黑眼睛用余光看着哈利。
　　“你是个与众不同的巫师，哈利波特。”
　　“在哪个方面，”哈利问，一边心不在焉地摸着伤疤。
　　“你挖了个坟墓”
　　“所以呢？”
　　拉环没有回答。哈利甚至觉得自己像麻瓜一样的行为被妖精嘲笑了。但它对多比的坟墓赞许或反对都无关紧要，他准备要发言了。
　　“拉环。我想问的是…”
　　“你同时也救了一个妖精。”
　　“什么？”
　　“你救了我，把我带到了这里。”
　　“恩，我想你并不觉得抱歉吧，”哈利有点不耐烦地说。
　　“不，哈利波特。”拉环说，它用一个手指摆弄着下巴周围的黑色胡须。“但你真是个特别的巫师。”
　　“对啊。”哈利说，“呃，我需要你的帮助，拉环。而且你能做到”。
　　拉环并没鼓励哈利继续说下去，它仍对哈利皱着眉，仿佛哈利是他从没见过的东西。
　　“我需要闯进古灵阁的一间金库。”
　　哈利本来不想以这种不恰当的方式说出来，但这些话已经脱口而出了，这时疼痛刺激着他那闪电状的伤疤，眼前浮现出霍格沃茨的轮廓。他坚定地封闭了自己的大脑，他需要先解决好和拉环的问题。
　　罗恩和赫敏看着哈利，似乎以为他疯了。
　　“哈利……”赫敏刚开口，就被拉环打断了。
　　“闯进古灵阁的金库？”小妖精重复了一边，它在床上换了下位置，向后缩了缩，“那是不可能的。”
　　“不，那是可以的，”罗恩反驳，“有人做到过。”
　　“没错，”哈利说，“正发生在我第一次见你---七年前我生日那天，拉环。”
　　“出事的金库当时是空的。”妖精马上说，哈利理解，尽管拉环已经离开古灵阁，但是防卫被突破的这种观点让它很生气，“那里几乎没有保护措施。”
　　“但我们要闯的金库不是空的，我想它的保护措施肯定很严密，”哈利说，“它属于莱斯特兰奇。”
　　他看到赫敏和罗恩吃惊地望着对方，但是等拉环回答完了以后，有的是时间向他们解释。
　　“你没有机会的，”拉环无力地说，“一点机会都没有，如果你在地下拿了任何不属于你的宝物……”
　　“就是小偷，你以前警告过的，是的，我知道，我都没忘，”哈利说，“但我并不是要把财宝据为己有，你能相信吗？”
　　小妖怪斜视着哈利，哈利前额的伤疤又开始作痛了，但他没有理会，不愿意接受伤疤的疼痛或邀请。
　　“如果有哪个巫师能让我相信他不会为了私利而这样做，”拉环终于说道，“我想那个人就是你，你今晚给予了我们保护和尊重---那是妖怪和精灵一直都没从拿着魔杖的人身上得到过的。”
　　“拿着魔杖的人？”哈利重复着，这种说法听上起很奇特，随着伤疤的刺痛，伏地魔把他的想法引向北边，哈利着急地走向隔壁房间，想询问奥利凡德。
　　“携带魔杖的权利，”妖精静静地说，“巫师和妖精争夺了很久。”
　　“嗯……妖精不需要魔杖也可以使用魔法，”罗恩说。
　　“那不重要！巫师不肯和其他魔法生物分享魔杖的秘密，他们阻止了我们增强法力的可能性。”
　　“呃……妖精也并不会把他们的魔法与别人分享，”罗恩说，“你们也并不会告诉我们如何像妖精一样制作宝剑和盔甲。妖精处理金属的方法是巫师们从来都不知道的——”
　　“那不重要，”哈利看到拉环的脸色变了，赶紧说道。“这和巫师与妖精或者其他魔法生物的对立没有关系——”
　　拉环露出了一个令人厌恶的笑容。
　　“非常有关系，恰恰就是这里的问题！随着黑魔王力量的增强，你们愈加稳固的踩在我们头上！古灵阁被巫师条例所统治，家养小精灵被屠杀，那些拿着魔杖的人，有谁会反抗？”
　　“我们会！”赫敏说。她坐直身体，眼睛明亮。“我们会反抗！我也被追捕，如同任何一个妖精和精灵一样！我是泥巴种！”
　　“不要管你自己叫——”罗恩咕哝道。
　　“为什么不能？”赫敏说，“我是泥巴种，我为此感到自豪！拉环，在新的秩序下，我的地位比你们都要高！在马尔福家里，我是那个被他们选出来严刑拷问的人！”
　　她一边说着，一边拉开睡裙的领口，露出了贝拉特里克斯在她脖子上留下的猩红色细小伤痕。
　　“你知道让多比得到自由的人是哈利吗？”赫敏问，“你知道我们为了精灵的自由努力了好几年吗？”（罗恩坐在赫敏的椅子扶手上有些坐立不安。）
　　“你比我们更加不希望神秘人取得胜利，拉环！”
　　妖精看赫敏的表情与刚才看哈利的一样好奇。
　　“你们想要在莱斯特兰奇的金库里找什么？”他轮流的看着他们三个的脸。“我想你已经知道了，你要我替你撒了谎。”
　　“但是那个金库里并不是只有一把假剑，不是吗？”哈利问，“或许你见过里面其他的东西？”他的心跳从来没像现在这么快过，他加倍努力的忽略伤疤带来的疼痛。
　　妖精再一次用手指卷绕着自己的胡须。“讲出古灵阁的秘密，是违反我们的法规的。我们是传说中的财宝的守护者，我们对于自己做出的东西有责任。”
　　妖精敲了一下那把剑，黑色的眼珠依次从哈利、赫敏、罗恩的脸上来回扫了一遍。
　　“这么年轻，”他说，“就要与那么多人战斗。”
　　“你会帮助我们吗？”哈利问，“没有妖精的帮助，我们就没有闯进去的希望，你是我们唯一的机会。”
　　“我要……考虑一下，”拉环令人恼火的说。
　　“但是——”罗恩生气想要讲话，赫敏轻轻的碰了碰他的肋骨，阻止了他。
　　“谢谢你。”哈利说。
　　妖精点了点他那又大又圆的头，曲起腿。
　　“我认为，”他炫耀的坐在比尔和芙蓉的床上说，“生骨药水已经完成它的使命了，我要睡觉了，请原谅……”
　　“噢，当然，”哈利说，临走之前，他弯下腰，从拉环身边拿走了格兰芬多宝剑。拉环并没阻止他，但是哈利看到拉环在关门的时候，眼中透出一丝怨恨。
　　“小妖精，”罗恩轻声的说，“他在吊我们的胃口！”
　　“哈利，”赫敏把他们俩从门口拉到黑暗的楼梯平台中央，小声的说，“你说的是我理解的那个意思吗？你的意思是说莱斯特兰奇的金库里有魂器？”
　　“是的，”哈利说，“贝拉特里克斯以为我们去过那里，她差点吓疯了。为什么呢？她以为我们看见了什么东西？她以为我们拿走了什么东西？她吓呆了，如果那东西丢了，神秘人一定会知道。”
　　“但是我以为我们是在寻找神秘人去过的地方，他做过什么大事的地方，不是吗？”罗恩迷惑地说，“他去过莱斯特兰奇的金库吗？”
　　“我不知道他是不是去过古灵阁的内部，”哈利说，“他年轻的时候，在那里并没有存款，因为没人给他留过遗产。他从外部见过古灵阁银行，在第一次去尖叫棚屋的时候。”
　　哈利的伤疤跳动着作痛，但他没理会，在去见奥利凡德之前，他想让罗恩和赫敏对古灵阁的情况多了解一些。
　　“我想，他嫉妒每一个拥有古灵阁金库钥匙的人，他认为那是属于巫师世界的真实象征。别忘了，他信任贝拉特里克斯夫妇，在他垮台之前，他们是他最忠诚的仆人，当他消失以后，贝拉特里克斯夫妇仍然继续的寻找他。他回来的那个晚上讲过这些话，我听到了。”
　　哈利揉了揉他的伤疤。
　　“我想，他并没有告诉贝拉特里克斯那是一个魂器，就像他也没有告诉卢修斯?马尔福那本日记是什么。他也许只是告诉她，那是他的宝贝，让她放进她的金库里。海格告诉过我，如果你想藏东西，那是世界上最安全的地方……除了霍格沃茨之外。”

　　哈利说完以后，罗恩摇了摇头：“你确实了解他。”

　　“一点点，”哈利说，“很少很少……我只希望我能多了解邓不利多一些。但是我们会知道的。来吧，现在轮到奥利凡德了。”

　　罗恩和赫敏很迷惑，同时也赞叹着，他们跟在哈利身后，穿过狭小的楼梯平台，敲了敲比尔和芙蓉房间对面的那扇门。一个虚弱的声音说：“请进。”

　　魔杖制造者躺在远离窗户的一张单人床上。他已经被监禁在地下室里拷问折磨一年多了。骨头都从他面黄肌瘦的脸上突了出来。深陷的眼眶中，一对银色的眼睛大得吓人。露在毯子外的手如同骷髅。哈利，赫敏和罗恩坐在另一张空床上。这里看不见朝阳，房间正对着悬崖顶上的花园和刚挖好的坟墓。

　　“奥利凡德先生，很抱歉打扰您，”哈利说。

　　“亲爱的孩子，”奥利凡德的声音很虚弱。“你救了我们，我以为我们会死在那里，这份恩情今生……今生都难以相报……”

　　“我们很高兴能够救出你们。”

　　哈利的伤疤开始悸动。他知道，他已经没有多少时间彻底摧毁伏地魔的计划，甚至阻止他实行计划了。他感到一阵恐慌……然而当时他选择先和拉环说话时，他就已经选定了自己的道路。他故作镇定，从脖子上挂着的小袋里摸出他断成两截的魔杖。

　　“奥利凡德先生，我需要您的帮助。”

　　“什么都可以，尽管说。”魔杖制造者虚弱的说。

　　“您能修好这个吗？还有可能修好吗？”

　　奥利凡德伸出一只颤抖的手，哈利把几乎断成两截的魔杖放到他手中。

　　“冬青木，凤凰羽毛，”奥利凡德用震颤的声音说。“十一英寸，很柔软。”

　　“是的，”哈利说，“您能不能－？”

　　“不能，”奥利凡德低声说。“我很抱歉，非常抱歉，但是就我所知，受到这种程度损伤的魔杖是不可能被修好的。”

　　尽管哈利做好了准备，但是这些话对他仍然是一个巨大的打击。他拿回魔杖，将它放回脖子上挂着的袋子中。奥利凡德一直盯着那带袋子，直到哈利又拿出从马尔福那里夺来的两支魔杖。

　　“您能鉴定一下这两只魔杖吗？”哈利问。

　　魔杖制造者拿起其中一支魔杖，放在他那银灰色的眼睛前，在指关节间转动着，并轻轻地弯了弯。

　　“胡桃木，龙心弦，”他说。“十二又四分之三英寸。不能弯曲。这是贝拉特里克斯?莱斯特兰奇的魔杖。”

　　“这只呢？”

　　奥利凡德同样检查了另一支魔杖。“山楂木，独角兽毛。正好十英寸。有一定弹性。这曾经是德拉科。马尔福的魔杖。”

　　“曾经？”哈利困惑的重复。“它现在不属于他吗？”

　　“可能不再属于他了。如果你使用过它－”

　　“－我用过－”

　　“－那它可能是你的了。当然，归属权的问题。更多的取决于魔杖本身。不过，通常说来，魔杖被夺走后，它会忠于新主人。”

　　房间里安静了片刻，只能听到远处海浪拍打礁石的声音。

　　“您说得好像魔杖本身就有感觉似的，”哈利说，“就好像它们能为自己考虑一样。”

　　“魔杖选择巫师。”奥利凡德说。“我们这些研究魔杖的人一直都很明白这一点。”

　　“但是我们仍然可以使用没有选择自己的魔杖？”哈利问。

　　“是的，只要你是个巫师，你就可以使用任一种工具来施魔法。然而，只有当巫师和魔杖之间有最紧密的联系的时候才会有最好的效果。这种联系很复杂。首先是彼此的吸引，然后互相适应，在这过程中，魔杖向巫师学习，巫师也向魔杖学习。”

　　海浪反复拍击着岩石，发出悲怆的声响。

　　“这支魔杖是我从德科拉。马尔福那里抢过来的，”哈利问，“我能安全的使用它吗？”

　　“我想是的。微妙的法则支配着魔杖所有权，但是被征服的魔杖通常会服从于新主人。”

　　“那我应该用这支魔杖了？”罗恩问，从口袋中拿出虫尾巴的魔杖递给奥利凡德。

　　“栗木，龙心弦。九又四分之一英寸。脆弱易碎。被绑架后不久我就被迫为小矮星彼得制作了这支魔杖。是的，如果你赢得了它，它会更加听从你的命令，而且会比任何一支魔杖做得更好。”

　　“所有的魔杖都是这样么？”哈利问。

　　“我想是的，”奥利凡德说，他突出的眼睛盯着哈利的脸。“波特先生，你问了一个深奥的问题。魔杖学是非常复杂和神秘的一个魔法分支。”

　　“那么，杀掉魔杖的前主人并不是占有魔杖所必需的吗？”哈利问。

　　奥利凡德咽了一口唾沫。

　　“必需？不，我认为杀死前主人不是必需的。”

　　“可是有这样的传说，”哈利说，他的心跳加快，伤疤的疼痛也加剧了；他确信伏地魔正准备实施行动。“关于一支—或是几支—通过杀戮而传承的魔杖的传说”

　　奥利凡德的脸变得煞白。在雪白的枕头的衬托下，他脸色苍白，布满血丝的眼睛大大地睁着，充满了恐惧。

　　“只有一支魔杖，我想，”他低声说。

　　“神秘人对这个很感兴趣，是不是？”哈利问。

　　“我……你们……”奥利凡德嘶声说道，他哀求地看向罗恩和赫敏。“你们怎么知道的？”

　　“他想要你告诉他怎样破坏我们魔杖间的联系，”哈利说。

　　奥利凡德看起来很害怕。

　　“他折磨我，你必须理解！那是钻心咒！我……我别无选择，只能告诉他我所知道的，我所推测的事情！”

　　“我理解，”哈利说。“你告诉了他魔杖芯相互的联系？你告诉了他得用另一个巫师的魔杖？”

　　奥利凡德看起来很惊恐，因哈利所知道的真相而呆住了。他缓慢地点了点头。

　　“但是并不是这样的，”哈利接着说，“我的魔杖仍然打败了那支借来的魔杖。你知道为什么吗？”

　　像刚才点头一样，奥利凡德缓缓的摇了摇头。

　　“我从……从来没有听说过这种事。那晚你的魔杖发生了一些很奇妙的事情。那两支魔杖芯之间的联系的确罕见，至于为什么你的魔杖会猛地吸住那支借来的魔杖，我也不知道……

　　“我们在谈论另一支魔杖，那支通过谋杀转手的魔杖。当神秘人意识到我的魔杖做了一些奇怪的事情时，他回来问你关于另一支魔杖的事情，是不是？”

　　“你怎么知道？”

　　哈利没有回答。

　　“是的，他问过了，”奥利凡德低声说。“他想知道我知道的一切——关于死亡之杖，命运之杖，长老魔杖的一切。”

　　哈利扭头看了看赫敏。她看起来就像被吓奄了的鸢尾花一样。

　　“黑魔王，”奥利凡德惊恐地小声说，“一直对我为他做的魔杖很满意……是的，凤凰羽毛，十三又四分之一英寸长，直到他发现了两支魔杖芯之间的联系。现在他要找到另一个更强大的魔杖，作为破坏你的魔杖的唯一方法。”

　　“但他马上会知道的——就算目前还没有——我的魔杖毁掉了，而且再也修不好了，”哈利轻声说。

　　“不！”赫敏惊恐地说。“他不会知道的，哈利，他怎么可能－？”

　　“闪回咒，”哈利说。“你的魔杖和李木魔杖落在了马尔福手中，赫敏。如果他们认真检查，让它们重现最后一次使用的咒语，他们就会发现你的魔杖击坏了我的，他们还会发现你试过修好它但失败了，然后他们就会意识到我从那以后一直在用那支李木魔杖。”

　　赫敏在这里好不容易恢复的一点血色一下子就消失了。罗恩责备地看了一眼哈利，说，“现在不是担心这个的时候－”

　　这时奥利凡德先生插话了。

　　“黑魔王不是仅仅为击败你而寻找长老魔杖，波特先生。他认为长老魔杖会让他如虎添翼，所以他发誓要得到它。”

　　“它会使他如虎添翼？”

　　“长老魔杖的拥有者一定一直在担心受到袭击，”奥利凡德说，“但是黑魔王拥有死亡之杖的决心，我不得不说……是在是太强烈了。”

　　哈利突然回忆起他第一次遇见奥利凡德时，是那么不确定有多么喜欢他。甚至现在，被伏地魔折磨和监禁之后，黑巫师拥有这支魔杖的想法仍然迷惑着奥利凡德，同时也困扰着他。

　　“那么，您－您真的认为这个魔杖存在吗？奥利凡德先生？”赫敏问。

　　“嗯。”奥利凡德说，“是的，回溯魔杖的历史就会知道，这是很有可能的。当然，历史存在断层，会有不同的看法，不同的讲述，其中一些历史丢失了或者被隐瞒了；但真相总是会浮出水面，钻研魔杖学的人们对其中一些事件达成了共识。于是它们被当作历史记录了下来——有一些依然不明朗——这些是我和其他一些魔杖制造者要研究的东西——不明朗中隐藏着的一连串真相。”

　　“所以你……你并不认为这只是一个童话或者神话？”赫敏充满希望地问。

　　“当然不认为，”奥利凡德说。“我只是不知道这种传承是否要靠鲜血来完成。它的历史充满血腥，可能因为它太让人着迷，唤起了巫师们潮水般的激情，让他们着了魔似的追寻它。它非常强大，在不适合的人手中非常危险，对所有我们这些研究魔杖力量的人也有着难以置信的吸引力。”

　　“奥利凡德先生，”哈利说，“您告诉神秘人格里戈维奇拥有长老魔杖，是不是？”

　　奥利凡德的脸变得——如果可能的话——更苍白了。他吞下一口唾沫，看起来很可怕。

　　“你是怎么－怎么－？”

　　“我是怎么知道的并不重要，”哈利的伤疤正灼痛着，他闭上眼睛，有一瞬间，他看到德姆斯特朗的主街道，因为是更往北的地方，天色依然漆黑一团。“您告诉了神秘人格里戈维奇拥有长老魔杖？”

　　“这是一个谣言，”奥利凡德低声说。“一个谣言，很多很多年以前，早在你出生以前，我相信是格里戈维奇自己散布了这个消息。你可以看到这对生意多么有利；人们会认为他在研究和复制长老魔杖的性质。”

　　“是的，我知道，”哈利说，他站了起来。“奥利凡德先生，最后一个问题，然后我们会让你休息。你对死圣知道多少？”

　　“死——什么？”魔杖制造者非常困惑。

　　“死圣。”

　　“恐怕我不知道你在说什么。这和魔杖有什么关系吗？”

　　哈利看着那张深陷下去的脸相信奥利凡德没有说谎。他并不知道死圣。

　　“谢谢，”哈利说。“非常感谢你。我们现在就离开，您好好休息吧。”

　　奥利凡德看起来似乎受到了打击。

　　“他折磨我！”他喘着气叫道。“钻心咒……你无法想象的……”

　　“我知道，”哈利平静的说，“我都知道。请好好休息吧。非常感谢您告诉我这些。”他带着罗恩和赫敏下楼。哈利看到了比尔，芙蓉，卢娜和迪安坐在厨房的桌子前，每人面前搁着一杯茶。当他出现在门口的时候，他们都抬起头看着他，但他仅仅点了点头，就径直走进了花园，罗恩和赫敏跟在他身后。前面是埋葬着多比的红色土堆，哈利走到那儿，脑子里的疼痛越来越强烈。现在他需要很努力才能组织自己那些可怕的猜想，但是他知道自己只需要再坚持一会儿就可以了。事情很快就会水落是出，很快他就会知道他的猜想是否正确。他只需要再确认一个小问题，就可以向罗恩和赫敏解释整件事情了。

　　“很久以前，格里戈维奇拥有长老魔杖，”他说，“我知道神秘人试图找到他。而最后他捉到格里戈维奇时，他发现魔杖已经不在格里戈维奇手中了：格林德沃偷走了它。我不知道格林德沃是怎么发现格里戈维奇有长老魔杖的——不过如果格里戈维奇愚蠢到四处传播流言的地步，这到也不是什么困难的事。”

　　伏地魔站在霍格沃茨的大门前；哈利看到他正站在那里，在即将到来的黎明中，霍格沃茨里出现了光亮——越来越近。

　　“格林德沃用长老魔杖让自己强大起来。邓不利多在法力最强的时候，知道自己是唯一能阻止他的人，他和格里戈维奇决斗，打败了他，拿到了长老魔杖。”

　　“邓不利多拿到了长老魔杖？”罗恩吃惊的问。“那么——它现在在哪儿？”

　　“在霍格沃茨，”哈利说，挣扎着使自己的意识回到悬崖花园来。

　　“那么，我们去吧！”罗恩急切的说。“哈利，我们抢在他之前把它拿过来！”

　　“已经太晚了，”哈利轻声说。他已经不能集中精力了，只能抓住他的头，试着再坚持一会儿。“他知道它在那儿。他已经到那里了。”

　　“哈利！”罗恩暴躁的说。“你知道这件事多久——为什么我们一直在浪费时间？为什么你要先和拉环讲话？我们早就该出发了——我们现在——”

　　“不，”哈利说，他的膝盖发软，慢慢跪进草丛，“赫敏是对的。邓不利多不想让我得到它。他不想让我把它拿走。他想让我去取魂器。”

　　“那是无敌的魔杖，哈利！”罗恩呻吟道。

　　“我不该拿那支魔杖……我应该去拿魂器……”

　　现在到处又黑又冷：太阳刚刚从地平线上升起。他和斯内普沿着通往湖的路悄然无声地走着。

　　“我不久后去城堡找你，”他用又尖又冷的声音说。“你先退下吧。”

　　斯内普鞠了一躬，沿小路走开了，他黑色的斗篷在他身后翻飞。哈利慢慢的走了几步，等着斯内普的背影消失。他不想让斯内普，或者任何人，看到他要去哪里。但是城堡的窗户里没有灯光，谁也发现不了他……他还给自己施了幻身咒，这样连他自己都看不见自己了。

　　他沿着湖边继续走下去，欣赏着这座可爱的城堡的轮廓，他的第一个王国，他与生俱来的权利……

　　就是这里，在湖边，深色的湖水倒映着那座白色的大理石坟墓——这块熟悉的土地上一个不必要的污点。一阵狂喜冲撞着他，带着强烈的毁灭欲望。他举起旧的紫杉木魔杖：这是它最后一次伟大的演出，还真是很相称啊。

　　坟墓从头到尾裂开了。裹尸布中的躯体和生前一样地消瘦。他又一次举起魔杖。

　　裹尸布打开了。露出张半透明的苍白凹陷的脸，然而它被很好的保存着。他觉得很好笑：他们还在他弯曲的鼻子上戴着眼镜。邓不利多的手交叉叠放在胸前，它就在那儿，被握在手中，和他一起埋葬。

　　这个老傻瓜难道会以为大理石或者死亡能够保护这支魔杖吗？他难道以为黑魔王会害怕亵渎他的坟墓吗？蜘蛛似的手突然伸下去从邓不利多的手中扯出魔杖，当他向外拉时，魔杖顶端冒出一串火花，在它前主人的尸体上闪烁，终于准备好为新的主人服务。

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Chapter 23  Malfoy Manor
Harry looked around at the other two, now mere outlines in the darkness. He saw Hermione point her wand, set toward the outside, but into his face; there was a bang, a burst of white light, and he buckled in agony, unable to see. He could feel his face swelling rapidly under his hands as heavy footfalls surrounded him.
“Get up, vermin.”
Unknown hands dragged Harry roughly off the ground, before he could stop them, someone had rummaged through his pockets and removed the blackthorn wand. Harry clutched at his excruciatingly painful face, which felt unrecognizable beneath his fingers, tight, swollen, and puffy as though he had suffered some violent allergic reaction. His eyes had been reduced to slits through which he could barely see; his glasses fell off as he was bundled out of the tent: all he could make out were the blurred shapes of four or five people wrestling Ron and Hermione outside too.
“Get – off – her!” Ron shouted. There was the unmistakable sound of knuckles hitting flesh: Ron grunted in pain and Hermione screamed, “No! Leave him alone, leave him alone!”
“Your boyfriend’s going to have worse than that done to him if he’s on my list,” said the horribly familiar, rasping voice. “Delicious girl… what a treat… I do enjoy the softness of the skin….”
Harry’s stomach turned over. He knew who this was, Fenrit Greyback, the werewolf who was permitted to wear Death Eater robes in return for his hired savagery.
“Search the tent!” said another voice.
Harry was thrown face down onto the ground. A thud told him that Ron had been cast down beside him. They could hear footsteps and crashes; the men were pushing over chairs inside the tent as they searched.
“Now, let’s see who we’ve got,” said Greyback’s gloating voice from overhead, and Harry was rolled over onto his back. A beam of wand light fell onto his face and Greyback laughed.
“I’ll be needing butterbeer to wash this one down. What happened to you, ugly?“
Harry did not answer immediately.
“I said,“ repeated Greyback, and Harry received a blow to the diaphragm that made him double over in pain. ”what happened to you?“
“Stung.” Harry muttered. “Been Stung.”
“Yeah, looks like it.” said a second voice.
“What’s your name?” snarled Greyback.
“Dudley.” said Harry.
“And your first name?”
“I – Vernon. Vernon Dudley.”
“Check the list, Scabior.” said Greyback, and Harry head him move sideways to look down at Ron, instead. “And what about you, ginger?”
“Stan Shunpike.” said Ron.
“Like ‘ell you are.” said the man called Scabior. “We know Stan Shunpike, ‘e’s put a bit of work our way.”
There was another thud.
“I’b Bardy,” said Ron, and Harry could tell that his mouth was full of blood. “Bardy Weasley.”
“A Weasley?“ rasped Greyback. ”So you’re related to blood traitors even if you’re not a Mudblood. And lastly, your pretty little friend…“ The relish in his voice made Harry’s flesh crawl.
“Easy, Greyback.” said Scabior over the jeering of the others.
“Oh, I’m not going to bite just yet. We’ll see if she’s a bit quicker at remembering her name than Barny. Who are you, girly?”
“Penelope Clearwater.” said Hermione. She sounded terrified, but convincing.
“What’s your blood status?”
“Half-Blood.” said Hermione.
“Easy enough to check,” said Scabior. “But the ‘ole lot of ‘em look like they could still be ‘ogwarts age – ”
“We’b lebt,” said Ron.
“Left, ‘ave you, ginger?” said Scabior. “And you decided to go camping? And you thought, just for a laugh, you’d use the Dark Lords name?”
“Nod a laugh,” said Ron. “Aggiden.”
“Accident?” There was more jeering laughter.
“You know who used to like using the Dark Lord’s name, Weasley?” growled Greyback, “The Order of the Phoenix. Mean anything to you?”
“Doh.”
“Well, they don’t show the Dark Lord proper respect, so the name’s been Tabooed. A few Order members have been tracked that way. We’ll see. Bind them up with the other two prisoners!”
Someone yanked Harry up by the hair, dragged him a short way, pushed him down into a sitting position, then started binding him back-to-back with other people. Harry was still half blind, barely able to see anything through his puffed-up eyes. When at last the man tying then had walked away, Harry whispered to the other prisoners.
“Anyone still got a wand?”
“No.” Said Ron and Hermione from either side of him.
“This is all my fault. I said the name. I’m sorry – ”
“Harry?”
It was a new, but familiar voice. and it came from directly behind Harry, from the person tied to Hermione’s left.
“Dean?”
“It is you! If they find out who they’ve got -! They’re Snatchers, they’re only looking for truants to sell for gold – “
“Not a bad little haul for one night.” Greyback was saying, as a pair of hobnailed boots marched close by Harry and they heard more crashes from inside the tent. “A Mudblood, a runaway goblin, and these truants. You checked their names on the list yet, Scabior?” he roared.
“Yeah. There’s no Vernon Dudley un ‘ere, Greyback.”
“Interesting,” said Greyback. “That’s interesting.”
He crouched down beside Harry, who saw, through the infinitesimal gap left between his swollen eyelids, a face covered in matted gray hair and whiskers, with pointed brown teeth and sores in the corners of his mouth. Greyback smelled as he had done at the top of the tower where Dumbledore had died: of dirt, sweat, and blood.
“So you aren’t wanted, then, Vernon? Or are you on that list under a different name? What house were you in at Hogwarts?“
“Slytherin,” said Harry automatically.
“Funny ‘ow they all thinks we wants to ‘ear that.” leered Scabior out of the shadows. “But none of ‘em can tell us where the common room is.”
“It’s in the dungeons.” said Harry clearly. “You enter through the wall. It’s full of skulls and stuff and its under the lake, so the light’s all green,”
There was a short pause.
“Well, well, looks like we really ‘ave caught a little Slytherin.” said Scabior. “Good for you, Vernon, ‘cause there ain’t a lot of Mudblood Slytherins. Who’s your father?”
“He works at the Ministry,” Harry lied. He knew that his whole story would collapse with the smallest investigation, but on the other hand, he only had until his face regained its usual appearance before the game was up in any case. “Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.”
“You know what, Greyback,“ said Scabior. ”I think there is a Dudley in there.“
Harry could barely breathe: Could luck, sheer luck, get them safely out of this?
“Well, well.” said Greyback, and Harry could hear the tiniest note of trepidation in that callous voice, and knew that Greyback was wondering whether he had just indeed just attacked and bound the son of a Ministry Official. Harry’s heart was pounding against the ropes around his ribs; he would not have been surprised to know that Greyback could see it. “If you’re telling the truth, ugly, you’ve got nothing to fear from a trip to the Ministry. I expect your father’ll reward us just for picking you up.”
“But,” said Harry, his mouth bone dry, “if you just let us – ”
“Hey!“ came a shout from inside the tent. “Look at this. Greyback!”
A dark figure came bustling toward them, and Harry saw a glint of silver to the light of their wands. They had found Gryffindor’s sword.
“Ve-e-ery nice,” said Greyback appreciatively, taking it from his companion. “Oh, very nice indeed. Looks goblin-made, that. Where did you get something like this?”
“It’s my father’s,” Harry lied, hoping against hope that it was too dark for Greyback to see the name etched just below the hilt. “We borrowed it to cut firewood – ”
“‘ang on a minute, Greyback! Look at this, in the Prophet!“
As Scabior said it, Harry’s scar, which was stretched tight across his distended forehead, burned savagely. More clearly than he could make out anything around him, he saw a towering building, a grim fortress, jet-black and forbidding: Voldemort’s thoughts had suddenly become Razor-Sharp again; he was gliding toward the gigantic building with a sense of calmly euphoric purpose…
So close… So close… With a huge effort of will Harry closed his mind to Voldemort’s thoughts, pulling himself back to where he sat, tied to Ron, Hermione, Dean, and Griphook in the darkness, listening to Greyback and Scabior.
“‘Hermione Granger,“ Scabior was saying, ”the Mudblood who is known to be traveling with ‘arry Potter.“
Harry’s scar burned in the silence, but he made a supreme effort to keep himself present, nor to slip into Voldemort’s mind. He heard the creak of Greyback’s boots as he crouched down, in front of Hermione.
“you know what, little girly? This picture looks a hell of a lot like you.”
“It isn’t! It isn’t me!”
Hermione’s terrified squeak was as good as a confession.
“… known to be traveling with Harry Potter,“ repeated Greyback quietly.
A stillness had settled over the scene. Harry’s scar was Exquisitely painful, but he struggled with all his strength against the pull of Voldemort’s thoughts. It had never been so important to remain in his own right mind.
“Well, this changed things, doesn’t it?” whispered Greyback. Nobody spoke: Harry sensed the gang of Snatchers watching, frozen, and felt Hermione’s arm trembling against his. Greyback got up and took a couple of steps to where Harry sat, crouching down again to stare closely at his misshapen features.
“What’s that on your forehead, Vernon?” he asked softly, his breath foul in Harry’s nostrils as he pressed a filthy finger to the taught scar.
“Don’t touch it! Harry yelled; he could not stop himself, he thought he might be sick from the pain of it.”
“I thought you wore glasses, Potter?” breathed Greyback.
“I found glasses!” yelped one of the Snatchers skulking in the background. “There was glasses in the tent, Greyback, wait – ”
And seconds later Harry’s glasses had been rammed back onto his face. The Snatchers were closing in now, peering at him.
“It Is!” rasped Greyback. “We’ve caught Potter!”
They all took several steps backward, stunned by what they had done. Harry, still fighting to remain present in his own splitting head, could think of nothing to say. Fragmented visions were breaking across the surface of his mind -
–He was hiding around the high walls of the black fortress–
No, he was Harry, tied up and wandless, in grave danger–
–looking up, up to the topmost window, the highest tower–
He was Harry, and they were discussing his fate in low voices–
–Time to fly…
“… To the Ministry?”
“To hell with the Ministry.” growled Greyback. “They’ll take the credit, and we won’t get a look in. I say we take him straight to You-Know-Who.”
“Will you summon ‘im? ‘ere?“ said Scabior, sounding awed, terrified.
“No,” snarled Greyback, “I haven’t got – they say he’s using the Malfoy’s place as a base. We’ll take the boy there.”
Harry thought he knew why Greyback was not calling Voldemort. The werewolf might be allowed to wear Death Eater robes when they wanted to use him, but only Voldemort’s inner circle were branded with the Dark Mark: Greyback had not been granted this highest honor.
Harry’s scar seared again –
– and he rose into the night, flying straight up to the windows at the very top of the tower –
“… completely sure it’s him? ‘Cause if it ain’t, Greyback, we’re dead.”
“Who’s in charge here?” roared Greyback, covering his moment of inadequacy. “I say that’s Potter, and him plus his wand, that’s two hundred thousand Galleons right there! But if you’re too gutless to come along, any of you, it’s all for me, and with any luck, I’ll get the girl thrown in!”
– The window was the merest slit in the black rock, not big enough for a man to enter…. A skeletal figure was just visible through it, curled beneath a blanket…. Dead, or sleeping…?
“All right!” said Scabior. “All right, we’re in! And what about the rest of ‘em, Greyback, what’ll we do with ‘em?”
“Might as well take the lot. We’ve got two Mudbloods, that’s another ten Galleons. Give me the sword as well. If they’re rubies, that’s another small fortune right there.“
The prisoners were dragged to their feet. Harry could hear Hermione’s breathing, fast and terrified.
“Grab hold and make it tight. I’ll do Potter!“ said Greyback, seizing a fistful of Harry’s hair; Harry could feel his long yellow nails scratching his scalp. ”On three! One – two – three – “
They Disapparated, pulling the prisoners with them. Harry struggled, trying to throw off Greyback’s hand, but it was hopeless: Ron and Hermione were squeezed tightly against him on either side; he could not separate from the group, and as the breath was squeezed out of him his scar seared more painfully still –
– as he forced himself through the slit of a window like a snake and landed, lightly as vapor inside the cell-like room –
The prisoners lurched into one another as they landed in a country lane. Harry’s eyes, still puffy, took a moment to acclimatize, then he saw a pair of wrought-iron gates at the foot of what looked like a long drive. He experienced the tiniest trickle of relief. The worst had not happened yet: Voldemort was not here. He was, Harry knew, for he was fighting to resist the vision, in some strange, fortresslike place, at the top of a tower. How long it would take Voldemort to get to this place, once he knew that Harry was here, was another matter….
One of the Snatchers strode to the gates and shook them.
“How do we get in? They’re locked, Greyback, I can’t – blimey!”
He whipped his hands away in fright. The iron was contorting, twisting itself out of the abstract furls and coils into a frightening face, which spoke in a clanging, echoing voice. “State your purpose!”
“We’ve got Potter!“ Greyback roared triumphantly. ”We’ve captured Harry Potter!“
The gates swung open.
“Come on!“ said Greyback to his men, and the prisoners were shunted through the gates and up the drive, between high hedges that muffled their footsteps. Harry saw a ghostly white shape above him, and realized it was an albino peacock. He stumbled and was dragged onto his feet by Greyback; now he was staggering along sideways, tied back-to-back to the four other prisoner. Closing his puffy eyes, he allowed the pain in his scar to overcome him for a moment, wanting to know what Voldemort was doing, whether he knew yet that Harry was caught….
The emaciated figure stirred beneath its thin blanket and rolled over toward him, eyes opening in a skull of a face…. The frail man sat up, great sunken eyes fixed upon him, upon Voldemort, and then he smiled. Most of his teeth were gone….
“So, you have come. I thought you would… one day. But your journey was pointless. I never had it.”
“You lie!”
As Voldemort’s anger throbbed inside him, Harry’s scar threatened to burst with pain, and he wrenched his mind back to his own body, fighting to remain present as the prisoners were pushed over gravel.
Light spilled out over all of them.
“What is this?” said a woman’s cold voice.
“We’re here to see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!” rasped Greyback.
“Who are you?”
“You know me!” There was resentment in the werewolf’s voice. “Fenrit Greyback! We’ve caught Harry Potter!”
Greyback seized Harry and dragged him around to face the light, forcing the other prisoners to shuffle around too.
“I know ‘es swollen, ma’am, but it’s ‘im!” piped up Scabior. “If you look a bit closer, you’ll see ‘is scar. And this ‘ere, see the girl? The Mudblood who’s been traveling around with ‘im, ma’am. There’s no doubt it’s ‘im, and we’ve got ‘is wand as well! ‘Ere, ma’am – ”
Through his puffy eyelids Harry saw Narcissa Malfoy scrutinizing his swollen face. Scabior thrust the blackthorn wand at her. She raised her eyebrows.
“Bring them in,” she said.
Harry and the others were shoved and kicked up broad stone steps into a hallway lined with portraits.
“Follow me,” said Narcissa, leading the way across the hall. “My son, Draco, is home for his Easter holidays. If that is Harry Potter, he will know.”
The drawing room dazzled after the darkness outside; even with his eyes almost closed Harry could make out the wide proportions of the room. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, more portraits against the dark purple walls. Two figures rose from chairs in front of an ornate marble fireplace as the prisoners were forced into the room by the Snatchers.
“What is this?”
The dreadfully familiar, drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy fell on Harry’s ears. He was panicking now. He could see no way out, and it was easier, as his fear mounted, to block out Voldemort’s thoughts, though his scar was still burning.
“They say they’ve got Potter,“ said Narcissa’s cold voice. ”Draco, come here.“
Harry did not dare look directly at Draco, but saw him obliquely; a figure slightly taller than he was, rising from an armchair, his face a pale and pointed blur beneath white-blond hair.
Greyback forced the prisoners to turn again so as to place Harry directly beneath the chandelier.
“Well, boy?” rasped the werewolf.
Harry was facing a mirror over the fireplace, a great gilded thing in an intricately scrolled frame. Through the slits of his eyes he saw his own reflection for the first time since leaving Grimmauld Place.
His face was huge, shiny, and pink, every feature distorted by Hermione’s jinx. His black hair reached his shoulders and there was a dark shadow around his jaw. Had he not known that it was he who stood there, he would have wondered who was wearing his glasses. He resolved not to speak, for his voice was sure to give him away; yet he still avoided eye contact with Draco as the latter approached.
“Well, Draco?” said Lucius Malfoy. He sounded avid. “Is it? Is it Harry Potter?”
“I can’t – I can’t be sure,“ said Draco. He was keeping his distance from Greyback, and seemed as scared of looking at Harry as Harry was of looking at him.
“But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!”
Harry had never heard Lucius Malfoy so excited.
“Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv – ”
“Now, we won’t be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope Mr. Malfoy?” said Greyback menacingly.
“Of course not, of course not!“ said Lucius impatiently. He approached Harry himself, came so close that Harry could see the usually languid, pale face in sharp detail even through his swollen eyes. With his face a puffy mask, Harry felt as though he was peering out from between the bars of a cage.
“What did you do to him?” Lucius asked Greyback. “How did he get into this state?”
“That wasn’t us.”
“Looks more like a Stinging Jinx to me,” said Lucius.
His gray eyes raked Harry’s forehead.
“There’s something there,” he whispered. “it could be the scar, stretched tight….”
“Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?”
Harry saw Draco’s face up close now, right beside his father’s. They were extraordinarily alike, except that while his father looked beside himself with excitement, Draco’s expression was full of reluctance, even fear.
“I don’t know,” he said, and he walked away toward the fireplace where his mother stood watching.
“We had better be certain, Lucius,“ Narcissa called to her husband in her cold, clear voice. ”Completely sure that it is Potter, before we summon the Dark Lord… They say this is his“ – she was looking closely at the blackthorn wand – ”but it does not resemble Ollivander’s description…. If we are mistaken, if we call the Dark Lord here for nothing… Remember what he did to Rowle and Dolohov?“
“What about the Mudblood, then?” growled Greyback. Harry was nearly thrown off his feet as the Snatchers forced the prisoners to swivel around again, so that the light fell on Hermione instead.
“Wait,“ said Narcissa sharply. “Yes – yes, she was in Madam Malkin’s with Potter! I saw her picture in the Prophet! Look, Draco, isn’t it the Granger girl?”
“I… maybe… yeah.”
“But then, that’s the Weasley boy!” shouted Lucius, striding around the bound prisoners to face Ron. “It’s them, Potter’s friends – Draco, look at him, isn’t it Arthur Weasley’s son, what’s his name –?”
“Yeah,” said Draco again, his back to the prisoners. “It could be.”
The drawing room door opened behind Harry. A woman spoke, and the sound of the voice wound Harry’s fear to an even higher pitch.
“What is this? What’s happened, Cissy?”
Bellatrix Lestrange walked slowly around the prisoners, and stopped on Harry’s right, staring at Hermione through her heavily lidded eyes, “But surely,” she said quietly, “this is the Mudblood girl? This is Grander?”
“Yes, yes, it’s Granger!” cried Lucius, “And beside her, we think, Potter! Potter and his friends, caught at last!”
“Potter?” shrieked Bellatrix, and she backed away, the better to take in Harry.
“Are you sure? Well then, the Dark Lord must be informed at once!”
She dragged back her left sleeve: Harry saw the Dark Mark burned into the flesh of her arm, and knew that she was about to touch it, to summon her beloved master–
“I was about to call him!“ said Lucius, and his hand actually closed upon Bellatrix’s wrist, preventing her from touching the Mark. ”I shall summon him, Bella. Potter has been brought to my house, and it is therefore upon my authority – “
“Your authority!” she sneered, attempting to wrench her hand from his grasp. “You lost your authority when you lost your wand, Lucius! How dare you! Take your hands off me!”
“This is nothing to do with you, you did not capture the boy – ”
“Begging your pardon, Mr. Malfoy,“ interjected Greyback, ”but it’s us that caught Potter, and it’s us that’ll be claiming the gold – “
“Gold!” laughed Bellatrix, still attempting to throw off her brother-in-law, her free hand groping in her pocket for her wand. “Take your gold, filthy scavenger, what do I want with gold? I seek only the honor of his – of – ”
She stopped struggling, her dark eyes fixed upon something Harry could not see. Jubilant at her capitulation, Lucius threw her hand from him and ripped up his own sleeve –
“STOP!” shrieked Bellatrix, “Do not touch it, we shall all perish if the Dark Lord comes now!”
Lucius froze, his index finger hovering over his own Mark. Bellatrix strode out of Harry’s limited line of vision.
“What is that?” he heard her say.
“Sword,” grunted an out-of-sight Snatcher.
“Give it to me.”
“It’s not yours, missus, it’s mine, I reckon I found it.”
There was a bang and a flash of red light; Harry knew that the Snatcher had been Stunned. There was a roar of anger from his fellows: Scabior drew his wand.
“What d’you think you’re playing at, woman?”
“Stupefy!“ she screamed, “Stupefy!”
They were no match for her, even thought there were four of them against one of her: She was a witch, as Harry knew, with prodigious skill and no conscience. They fell where they stood, all except Greyback, who had been forced into a kneeling position, his arms outstretched. Out of the corners of his eyes Harry saw Bellatrix bearing down upon the werewolf, the sword of Gryffindor gripped tightly in her hand, her face waxen.
“Where did you get this sword?” she whispered to Greyback as she pulled his wand out of his unresisting grip.
“How dare you?” he snarled, his mouth the only thing that could move as he was forced to gaze up at her. He bared his pointed teeth. “Release me, woman!”
“Where did you find this sword?” she repeated, brandishing it in his face, “Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!”
“It was in their tent,” rasped Greyback. “Release me, I say!”
She waved her wand, and the werewolf sprang to his feet, but appeared too wary to approach her. He prowled behind an armchair, his filthy curved nails clutching its back.
“Draco, move this scum outside,” said Bellatrix, indicating the unconscious men. “If you haven’t got the guts to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me.”
“Don’t you dare speak to Draco like – ” said Narcissa furiously, but Bellatrix screamed.
“Be quiet! The situation is graver than you can possibly imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem!”
She stood, panting slightly, looking down at the sword, examining its hilt. Then she turned to look at the silent prisoners.
“If it is indeed Potter, he must not be harmed,” she muttered, more to herself than to the others. “The Dark Lord wishes to dispose of Potter himself…. But if he finds out… I must… I must know….”
She turned back to her sister again.
“The prisoners must be placed in the cellar, while I think what to do!”
“This is my house, Bella, you don’t give orders in my – ”
“Do it! You have no idea of the danger we’re in!“ shrieked Bellatrix. She looked frightening, mad; a thin stream of fire issued from her wand and burned a hole in the carpet.
Narcissa hesitated for a moment, then addressed the werewolf.
“Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback.”
“Wait,” said Bellatrix sharply. “All except…. except for the Mudblood.”
Greyback gave a grunt of pleasure.
“No!” shouted Ron. “You can have me, keep me!”
Bellatrix hit him across the face: the blow echoed around the room.
“If she dies under questioning, I’ll take you next,“ she said. ”Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book. Take them downstairs, Greyback, and make sure they are secure, but do nothing more to them – yet.“
She threw Greyback’s wand back to him, then took a short silver knife from under her robes. She cut Hermione free from the other prisoners, then dragged her by the hair into the middle of the room, while Greyback forced the rest of them to shuffle across to another door, into a dark passageway, his wand held out in front of him, projecting an invisible and irresistible force.
“Reckon she’ll let me have a bit of the girl when she’s finished with her?” Greyback crooned as he forced them along the corridor. “I’d say I’ll get a bite or two, wouldn’t you, ginger?”
Harry could feel Ron shaking. They were forced down a steep flight of stairs, still tied back-to-back and in danger of slipping and breaking their necks at any moment. At the bottom was a heavy door. Greyback unlocked it with a tap of his wand, then forced them into a dank and musty room and left them in total darkness. The echoing bang of the slammed cellar door had not died away before there was a terrible, drawn out scream from directly above them.
“HERMIONE!“ Ron bellowed, and he started to writhe and struggle against the ropes tying them together, so that Harry staggered. “HERMIONE!”
“Be quiet!” Harry said. “Shut up. Ron, we need to work out a way – ”
“HERMIONE! HERMIONE!”
“We need a plan, stop yelling – we need to get these ropes off – ”
“Harry?” came a whisper through the darkness. “Ron? Is that you?”
Ron stopped shouting. There was a sound of movement close by them, then Harry saw a shadow moving closer.
“Harry? Ron?”
“Luna?“
“Yes, it’s me! Oh no, I didn’t want you to be caught!”
“Luna, can you help us get these ropes off?“ said Harry.
“Oh yes, I expect so…. There’s an old nail we use if we need to break anything…. Just a moment…”
Hermione screamed again from overhead, and they could hear Bellatrix screaming too, but her words were inaudible, for Ron shouted again, “HERMIONE! HERMIONE!”
“Mr. Ollivander?“ Harry could hear Luna saying. ”Mr. Ollivander, have you got the nail? If you just move over a little bit… I think it was beside the water jug.“
She was back within seconds.
“You’ll need to stay still,” she said.
Harry could feel her digging at the rope’s tough fibers to work the knots free. From upstairs they heard Bellatrix’s voice.
“I’m going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?“
“We found it – we found it – PLEASE!” Hermione screamed again; Ron struggled harder than ever, and the rusty nail slipped onto Harry’s wrist.
“Ron, please stay still!” Luna whispered. “I can’t see what I’m doing – ”
“My pocket!” said Ron, “In my pocket, there’s a Deluminator, and it’s full of light!”
A few seconds later, there was a click, and the luminescent spheres the Deluminator had sucked from the lamps in the tent flew into the cellar: Unable to rejoin their sources, they simply hung there, like tiny suns, flooding the underground room with light. Harry saw Luna, all eyes in her white face, and the motionless figure of Ollivander the wandmaker, curled up on the floor in the corner. Craning around, he caught sight of their fellow prisoners: Dean and Griphook the goblin, who seemed barely conscious, kept standing by the ropes that bound him to the humans.
“Oh, that’s much easier, thanks, Ron,” said Luna, and she began hacking at their bindings again. “Hello, Dean!”
From above came Bellatrix’s voice.
“You’re lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!“
Another terrible scream–
“HERMIONE!”
“What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!”
“There!”
Harry felt the ropes fall away and turned, rubbing his wrists, to see Ron running around the cellar, looking up at the low ceiling, searching for a trapdoor. Dean, his face bruised and bloody, said “Thanks” to Luna and stood there, shivering, but Griphook sank onto the cellar floor, looking groggy and disoriented, many welts across his swarthy face.
Ron was now trying to Disapparate without a wand.
“There’s no way out, Ron,“ said Luna, watching his fruitless efforts. ”The cellar is completely escape-proof. I tried, at first. Mr. Ollivander has been here for a long time, he’s tried everything.“
Hermione was screaming again: The sound went through Harry like physical pain. Barely conscious of the fierce prickling of his scar, he too started to run around the cellar, feeling the walls for he hardly knew what, knowing in his heart that it was useless.
“What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!“
Hermione’s screams echoed off the walls upstairs, Ron was half sobbing as he pounded the walls with his fists, and Harry in utter desperation seized Hagrid’s pouch from around his neck and groped inside it: He pulled out Dumbledore’s Snitch and shook it, hoping for he did not know what – nothing happened – he waved the broken halves of the phoenix wand, but they were lifeless – the mirror fragment fell sparkling to the floor, and he saw a gleam of brightest blue –
Dumbledore’s eye was gazing at him out of the mirror.
“Help us!” he yelled at it in mad desperation. “We’re in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, help us!”
The eye blinked and was gone.
Harry was not even sure that it had really been there. He tilted the shard of mirror this way and that, and saw nothing reflected there but the walls and ceiling of their prison, and upstairs Hermione was screaming worse than ever, and next to him Ron was bellowing, “HERMIONE! HERMIONE!”
“How did you get into my vault?” they heard Bellatrix scream. “Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?”
“We only met him tonight!” Hermione sobbed. “We’ve never been inside your vault…. It isn’t the real sword! It’s a copy, just a copy!”
“A copy?” screeched Bellatrix. “Oh, a likely story!”
“But we can find out easily!” came Lucius’s voice. “Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!”
Harry dashed across the cellar to where Griphook was huddled on the floor.
“Griphook,” he whispered into the goblin’s pointed ear, “you must tell them that sword’s a fake, they mustn’t know it’s the real one, Griphook, please – ”
He could hear someone scuttling own the cellar steps; next moment, Draco’s shaking voice spoke from behind the door.
“Stand back. Line up against the back wall. Don’t try anything, or I’ll kill you!”
They did as they were bidden; as the lock turned, Ron clicked the Deluminator and the lights whisked back into his pocket, restoring the cellar’s darkness. The door flew open; Malfoy marched inside, wand held out in front of him, pale and determined. He seized the little goblin by the arm and backed out again, dragging Griphook with him. The door slammed shut and at the same moment a loud crack echoed inside the cellar.
Ron clicked the Deluminator. Three balls of light flew back into the air from his pocket, revealing Dobby the house-elf, who had just Apparated into their midst.
“DOB –!”
Harry hit Ron on the arm to stop him shouting, and Ron looked terrified at his mistake. Footsteps crossed the ceiling overhead: Draco marching Griphook to Bellatrix.
Dobby’s enormous, tennis-ball shaped eyes were wide; he was trembling from his feet to the tips of his ears. He was back in the home of his old masters, and it was clear that he was petrified.
“Harry Potter,” he squeaked in the tiniest quiver of a voice, “Dobby has come to rescue you.”
“But how did you –?”
An awful scream drowned Harry’s words: Hermione was being tortured again. He cut to the essentials.
“You can Disapparate out of this cellar?” he asked Dobby, who nodded, his ears flapping.
“And you can take humans with you?”
Dobby nodded again.
“Right. Dobby, I want you to grab Luna, Dean, and Mr. Ollivander, and take them – take them to – “
“Bill and Fleur’s,” said Ron. “Shell Cottage on the outskirts of Tinworth!”
The elf nodded for a third time.
“And then come back,” said Harry. “Can you do that, Dobby?”
“Of course, Harry Potter,” whispered the little elf. He hurried over to Mr. Ollivander, who appeared to be barely conscious. He took one of the wandmaker’s hands in his own, then held out the other to Luna and Dean, neither of whom moved.
“Harry, we want to help you!” Luna whispered.
“We can’t leave you here,” said Dean.
“Go, both of you! We’ll see you at Bill and Fleur’s.”
As Harry spoke, his scar burned worse than ever, and for a few seconds he looked down, not upon the wandmaker, but on another man who was just as old, just as thin, but laughing scornfully.
“Kill me, then. Voldemort, I welcome death! But my death will not bring you what you seek…. There is so much you do not understand…”
He felt Voldemort’s fury, but as Hermione screamed again he shut it out, returning to the cellar and the horror of his own present.
“Go!” Harry beseeched to Luna and Dean. “Go! We’ll follow, just go!”
They caught hold of the elf’s outstretched fingers. There was another loud crack, and Dobby, Luna, Dean, and Ollivander vanished.
“What was that?” shouted Lucius Malfoy from over their heads. “Did you hear that? What was that noise in the cellar?”
Harry and Ron stared at each other.
“Draco – no, call Wormtail! Make him go and check!”
Footsteps crossed the room overhead, then there was silence. Harry knew that the people in the drawing room were listening for more noises from the cellar.
“We’re going to have to try and tackle him,” he whispered to Ron. They had no choice: The moment anyone entered the room and saw the absence of three prisoners, they were lost. “Leave the lights on,” Harry added, and as they heard someone descending the steps outside the door, they backed against the wall on either side of it.
“Stand back,” came Wormtail’s voice. “Stand away from the door. I’m coming in.”
The door flew open. For a split second Wormtail gazed into the apparently empty cellar, ablaze with light from the three miniature suns floating in midair. Then Harry and Ron launched themselves upon him. Ron seized Wormtail’s wand arm and forced it upwards. Harry slapped a hand to his mouth, muffling his voice. Silently they struggled: Wormtail’s wand emitted sparks; his silver hand closed around Harry’s throat.
“What is it, Wormtail?” called Lucius Malfoy from above.
“Nothing!” Ron called back, in a passable imitation of Wormtail’s wheezy voice. “All fine!”
Harry could barely breathe.
“You’re going to kill me?” Harry choked, attempting to prise off the metal fingers. “After I saved your life? You owe me, Wormtail!”
The silver fingers slackened. Harry had not expected it: He wrenched himself free, astonished, keeping his hand over Wormtail’s mouth. He saw the ratlike man’s small watery eyes widen with fear and surprise: He seemed just as shocked as Harry at what his hand had done, at the tiny, merciful impulse it had betrayed, and he continued to struggle more powerfully, as though to undo that moment of weakness.
“And we’ll have that,” whispered Ron, tugging Wormtail’s wand from his other hand.
Wandless, helpless, Pettigrew’s pupils dilated in terror. His eyes had slid from Harry’s face to something else. His own silver fingers were moving inexorably toward his own throat.
“No – ”
Without pausing to think, Harry tried to drag back the hand, but there was no stopping it. The silver tool that Voldemort had given his most cowardly servant had turned upon its disarmed and useless owner; Pettigrew was reaping his reward for his hesitation, his moment of pity; he was being strangled before their eyes.
“No!”
Ron had released Wormtail too, and together he and Harry tried to pull the crushing metal fingers from around Wormtail’s throat, but it was no use. Pettigrew was turning blue.
“Relashio!” said Ron, pointing the wand at the silver hand, but nothing happened; Pettigrew dropped to his knees, and at the same moment, Hermione gave a dreadful scream from overhead. Wormtail’s eyes rolled upward in his purple face; he gave a last twitch, and was still.
Harry and Ron looked at each other, then leaving Wormtail’s body on the floor behind them, ran up the stairs and back into the shadowy passageway leading to the drawing room. Cautiously they crept along it until they reached the drawing room door, which was ajar. Now they had a clear view of Bellatrix looking down at Griphook, who was holding Gryffindor’s sword in his long-fingered hands. Hermione was lying at Bellatrix’s feet. She was barely stirring.
“Well?” Bellatrix said to Griphook. “Is it the true sword?”
Harry waited, holding his breath, fighting against the prickling of his scar.
“No,” said Griphook. “It is a fake.”
“Are you sure?” panted Bellatrix. “Quite sure?”
“Yes,” said the goblin.
Relief broke across her face, all tension drained from it.
“Good,” she said, and with a casual flick of her wand she slashed another deep cut into the goblin’s face, and he dropped with a yell at her feet. She kicked him aside. “And now,” she said in a voice that burst with triumph, “we call the Dark Lord!”
And she pushed back her sleeve and touched her forefinger to the Dark Mark.
At once, Harry’s scar felt as though it had split open again. His true surroundings vanished: He was Voldemort, and the skeletal wizard before him was laughing toothlessly at him; he was enraged at the summons he felt – he had warned them, he had told them to summon him for nothing less than Potter. If they were mistaken…
“Kill me, then!” demanded the old man. “You will not win, you cannot win! That wand will never, ever be yours – ”
And Voldemort’s fury broke: A burst of green light filled the prison room and the frail old body was lifted from its hard bed and then fell back, lifeless, and Voldemort returned to the window, his wrath barely controllable…. They would suffer his retribution if they had no good reason for calling him back….
“And I think,” said Bellatrix’s voice, “we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her.”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Ron had burst into the drawing room; Bellatrix looked around, shocked; she turned her wand to face Ron instead –
“Expelliarmus!” he roared, pointing Wormtail’s wand at Bellatrix, and hers flew into the air and was caught by Harry, who had sprinted after Ron. Lucius, Narcissa, Draco and Greyback wheeled about; Harry yelled, “Stupefy!” and Lucius Malfoy collapsed onto the hearth. Jets of light flew from Draco’s, Narcissa’s, and Greyback’s wands; Harry threw himself to the floor, rolling behind a sofa to avoid them.
“STOP OR SHE DIES!”
Panting, Harry peered around the edge of the sofa. Bellatrix was supporting Hermione, who seemed to be unconscious, and was holding her short silver knife to Hermione’s throat.
“Drop your wands,” she whispered. “Drop them, or we’ll see exactly how filthy her blood is!”
Ron stood rigid, clutching Wormtail’s wand. Harry straightened up, still holding Bellatrix’s.
“I said, drop them!” she screeched, pressing the blade into Hermione’s throat: Harry saw beads of blood appear there.
“All right!” he shouted, and he dropped Bellatrix’s wand onto the floor at his feet, Ron did the same with Wormtail’s. Both raised their hands to shoulder height.
“Good!” she leered. “Draco, pick them up! The Dark Lord is coming, Harry Potter! Your death approaches!”
Harry knew it; his scar was bursting with the pain of it, and he could feel Voldemort flying through the sky from far away, over a dark and stormy sea, and soon he would be close enough to Apparate to them, and Harry could see no way out.
“Now,” said Bellatrix softly, as Draco hurried back to her with the wands. “Cissy, I think we ought to tie these little heroes up again, while Greyback takes care of Miss Mudblood. I am sure the Dark Lord will not begrudge you the girl, Greyback, after what you have done tonight.”
At the last word there was a peculiar grinding noise from above. All of them looked upward in time to see the crystal chandelier tremble; then, with a creak and an ominous jingling, it began to fall. Bellatrix was directly beneath it; dropping Hermione, she threw herself aside with a scream. The chandelier crashed to the floor in an explosion of crystal and chains, falling on top of Hermione and the goblin, who still clutched the sword of Gryffindor. Glittering shards of crystal flew in all directions; Draco doubled over, his hands covering his bloody face.
As Ron ran to pull Hermione out of the wreckage, Harry took the chance: He leapt over an armchair and wrested the three wands from Draco’s grip, pointed all of them at Greyback, and yelled, “Stupefy!” The werewolf was lifted off his feet by the triple spell, flew up to the ceiling and then smashed to the ground.
As Narcissa dragged Draco out of the way of further harm, Bellatrix sprang to her feet, her hair flying as she brandished the silver knife; but Narcissa had directed her wand at the doorway.
“Dobby!” she screamed and even Bellatrix froze. “You! You dropped the chandelier –?”
The tiny elf trotted into the room, his shaking finger pointing at his old mistress.
“You must not hurt Harry Potter,” he squeaked.
“Kill him, Cissy!” shrieked Bellatrix, but there was another loud crack, and Narcissa’s wand too flew into the air and landed on the other side of the room.
“You dirty little monkey!” bawled Bellatrix. “How dare you take a witch’s wand, how dare you defy your masters?”
“Dobby has no master!” squealed the elf. “Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!”
Harry’s scar was blinding him with pain. Dimly he knew that they had moments, seconds before Voldemort was with them.
“Ron, catch – and GO!” he yelled, throwing one of the wands to him; then he bent down to tug Griphook out from under the chandelier. Hoisting the groaning goblin, who still clung to the sword, over one shoulder, Harry seized Dobby’s hand and spun on the spot to Disapparate.
As he turned into darkness he caught one last view of the drawing room of the pale, frozen figures of Narcissa and Draco, of the streak of red that was Ron’s hair, and a blue of flying silver, as Bellatrix’s knife flew across the room at the place where he was vanishing –
Bill and Fleur’s… Shell Cottage… Bill and Fleur’s…
He had disappeared into the unknown; all he could do was repeat the name of the destination and hope that it would suffice to take him there. The pain in his forehead pierced him, and the weight of the goblin bore down upon him; he could feel the blade of Gryffindor’s sword bumping against his back: Dobby’s hand jerked in his; he wondered whether the elf was trying to take charge, to pull them in the right direction, and tried, by squeezing the fingers, to indicate that that was fine with them….
And then they hit solid earth and smelled salty air. Harry fell to his knees, relinquished Dobby’s hand, and attempted to lower Griphook gently to the ground.
“Are you all right?” he said as the goblin stirred, but Griphook merely whimpered.
Harry squinted around through the darkness. There seemed to be a cottage a short way away under the wide starry sky, and he thought he saw movement outside it.
“Dobby, is this Shell Cottage?” he whispered, clutching the two wands he had brought from the Malfoys’, ready to fight if he needed to. “Have we come to the right place? Dobby?”
He looked around. The little elf stood feet from him.
“DOBBY!”
The elf swayed slightly, stars reflected in his wide, shining eyes. Together, he and Harry looked down at the silver hilt of the knife protruding from the elf’s heaving chest.
“Dobby – no – HELP!” Harry bellowed toward the cottage, toward the people moving there. “HELP!”
He did not know or care whether they were wizards or Muggles, friends or foes; all he cared about was that a dark stain was spreading across Dobby’s front, and that he had stretched out his own arms to Harry with a look of supplication. Harry caught him and laid him sideways on the cool grass.
“Dobby, no, don’t die, don’t die – ”
The elf’s eyes found him, and his lips trembled with the effort to form words.
“Harry… Potter…”
And then with a little shudder the elf became quite still, and his eyes were nothing more than great glassy orbs, sprinkled with light from the stars they could not see.
哈利向四周看了看他的两个同伴， 只是在黑暗中看到模糊的影子。 赫敏的魔杖也根本对准得不是外面，而是他的脸。随着一声巨响和一道白光，他痛苦的弯下身子，
　　看不到任何东西。当沉重的脚步声逐渐包围他的时候，他可以感到脸在手掌下面迅速地膨胀。
　　“起来，小杂种。”
　　不知谁的手将哈利粗鲁的拽离地面，在他阻止前，已经有人在翻遍他的口袋并且拿走了他的李木魔杖。哈利极其痛苦地抓着自己的脸，感觉到手指下的脸已经面目全非，
　　又紧又胀，就像他患上了严重的皮肤过敏。
　　他的眼睛肿得只能睁开一条缝，几乎无法看见；他的眼镜又在他匆匆逃离帐篷的时候掉了：他唯一能辨认出的是四五个模糊的人影正在外面和罗恩与赫敏扭打着。
　　“放-开-她!”罗恩叫道。 随着一阵清晰的关节抽打皮肤的声音:罗恩痛得直哼哼，赫敏发出尖叫， “不! 别碰他，别碰他!”
　　“你的男朋友如果在我的名单上会受到比现在更糟的待遇，”一个可怕而熟悉的刺耳的声音传来， “可口的女孩……真是珍馐…… 我确实很喜欢柔软的皮肤……”
　　哈利的胃在翻腾。 他知道这是芬里尔·格雷伯克，那个凭着自己的野性成为食死徒的狼人。
　　“搜那顶帐篷！” 另一个声音说道。
　　哈利被面朝下地扔在地上。砰的一声让他知道罗恩也被推倒在他旁边。 他们可以听到脚步声和撞击声； 那些人在搜索的时候正在推倒帐篷里的椅子。
　　“现在，让我们来看看找到了什么，”格雷伯克沾沾自喜的声音从哈利的头上传来。哈利被翻转过来。一束魔杖的亮光直指他的脸， 格雷伯克哈哈大笑。
　　“我需要黄油啤酒把这个洗掉。你怎么了，丑小子”
　　哈利没有吱声。
　　“我说，”格雷伯克重复道， 哈利感到耳朵受到沉重的一击这使得他的疼痛加倍。 “你怎么了？”
　　“被蛰，”哈利咕哝着说道。“被蛰了。”
　　“是的，看起来像是。”另一个声音传来。
　　“你叫什么？”格雷伯克吼道 。
　　“达力。”哈利说。
　　“那你姓？”
　　“我——弗农，弗农·达力。”
　　“查查名单， 斯盖伯 。”格雷伯克说，哈利听见他移向旁边又低头看着罗恩，“那你呢，小活泼？”
　　“斯坦桑帕克。”罗恩回答。
　　“扯淡”，叫斯盖伯的男人说，“我们认识斯坦桑帕克，才不长你这样”
　　又传来砰的一声。
　　“我是巴蒂。”罗恩说，哈利可以想到罗恩满嘴都是血。 “巴蒂·韦斯莱。”
　　“姓韦斯莱？”格雷伯克刺耳的说道。 “那么你就算不是麻瓜，也和血统叛逆者有关。最后，你漂亮的小女朋友……”他声音里包含的意味使哈利全身肌肉战栗。
　　“放松， 格雷伯克” 斯盖伯 向其他嘲笑的人说道。
　　“哦，我现在还不想咬她。 让我们来看看她是否会会更快地想起她的名字，小姑娘？”
　　“佩内洛·克里瓦特”赫敏说到。她的声音听起来很惊恐但是很有信服力。
　　“那你的血统是？”
　　“混血。”赫敏说。
　　“这很容易检查。”斯盖伯 说。“但是他们看起来都是还在上学的年纪。”
　　“我们离校了。”罗恩说道。
　　“左边的，你呢，小活泼？” 斯盖伯说道。“是你决定去露营？ 而且你认为为了好玩，你就可以用黑魔王的名字？”
　　“不日（事）为了噢（好）玩”罗恩说。“是日外（意外）。” [注:因为罗恩嘴巴被揍了]。
　　“意外？”嘲笑的人更多了。
　　“你知道谁过去一直喜欢用黑魔王的名字吗，韦斯莱？”格雷伯克咆哮， “凤凰社成员。这对你来说有些什么意义吗？”
　　“没日（有）。”
　　“嗯，他们对黑魔王没有适当的尊敬， 因此这个名字已经成为禁忌。一小撮凤凰社成员就是那样被追踪的。我们会看到的。把他们和另外两个犯人绑在一起!”
　　某人有人猛拉着哈利的头发将他拉起，拽着他走了一小段路，推他坐下，然后开始把他和其他人背对背绑在一起。哈利仍然是看不太清楚，只能看到什么从他肿胀的眼前越过的东西。
　　等到最后绑他们的男人走开后，哈利低声和其他囚犯说话。
　　“有人还有魔杖吗？”
　　“没有。”罗恩和赫敏的声音各自从他的一侧传来。
　　“都是我的错。我说了那个名字。对不起——”
　　“哈利？”
　　一个新的但是熟悉的声音传来。它就来自哈利的正背后，绑在赫敏左边的那个人。
　　“迪安？”
　　“是你! 如果他们发现他们已经抓到了谁-!他们是搜捕手， 他们现在只是在找逃难者把他们卖掉来换金子-”
　　"一晚的收获不坏啊。” 格雷伯克说着，踏着一双一双钉着平头钉的靴子走到哈利身边，他们听见帐篷中传来更多撞击声。 “一个麻瓜
　　，一个离家出走的丑小鬼和这些逃难者。你在名单上检查了他们的名字吗？斯盖伯？"他吼道。
　　“是的。没有叫弗农达力的家伙， 格雷伯克。”
　　“有趣，”格雷伯克说道。 “那真是有趣。”
　　他在哈利身边蹲下来，哈利透过膨胀的眼皮之间留下的极小缝隙看到一张长着褐色尖牙，嘴角溃烂，覆盖着毫无光泽的灰色头发和络腮胡子的脸。
　　格雷伯克闻起来和在塔顶也就是邓布利多死去的地方的那个时候一样:满身泥土味，汗味和血腥味。
　　“所以你没有被通缉咯， 弗农？还是你是名单上面的别的名字呢？在。或你在一个不同的目录上吗？ 你在霍格沃茨的哪个学院？”
　　“斯莱特林，”哈利自动说道。
　　“有趣，他们都认为我们想听到那样的回答。” 斯盖伯从阴影中投射出恶意的目光。 “但他们没有一个人能够告诉我们斯莱特林的公共休息室在哪里。”
　　“在地牢中。”哈利清楚地说。“你穿过那堵墙，里面全是头盖骨和原料，而且它在湖底， 因此光线都是绿色的，”
　　一阵短暂的停顿。
　　“好，好，看来我们真的抓到了一个小斯莱特林。” 斯盖伯 说。“这对你有好处，弗农，因为并没有多少斯莱特林是泥巴种。你的父亲是谁？”
　　“他在魔法部工作。”哈利撒谎。他知道，哪怕一个小小的调查都会使他的整个故事被拆穿，但是另一方面，他只能这样做，尽力不捅乱子，直到他的脸恢复成平常的样子。
　　“魔术意外事件和大灾难部。”
　　“你知道嘛， 格雷伯克，”斯盖伯 说。“我想是有一个叫达力的在那里。”
　　哈利几乎无法呼吸: 他能够幸运地，绝对幸运地将他们安全地带离这里吗？
　　“喔，喔。”格雷伯克道，哈利可以听出那无情的声音中带着极小的颤抖，他知道格雷伯克
　　正在想他刚刚是否确实袭击并绑了魔法部官员的儿子。哈利的心在重重的撞击着肋骨周围的绳索；他感到若格雷伯克看到这个自己也不会觉得奇怪。
　　“如果你正在说实话，丑小子，你就一点都不用害怕去一趟魔法部。我期待你的父亲会因为我拣到你而奖赏我们。”
　　“但是，”哈利说，他口中干涩， “如果你只是让我们——”
　　“嘿!”从里面帐篷里传来一声呼喊：“看这个。 格雷伯克!”
　　一个黑色的身影匆忙走向他们，向他们靠近，在他们的魔杖发出的光中哈利看到了一道银光闪烁。他们已经发现了格兰芬多的宝剑。
　　“很-很-很漂亮。”格雷伯克欣赏地说，从同伴手中拿过宝剑。 “噢，确实非常不错。看起来是妖精制作的。你从那儿弄到这样的东西的？”
　　“它是我父亲的，”哈利谎称道，抱着一线希望，希望天色太黑使得格雷伯克看不到见到剑柄下面蚀刻的名字。”我们借了它来砍柴火-”
　　“先放放手头的事， 格雷伯克!看看这个，预言家日报上写的!”
　　在斯盖伯说这个的时候，哈利的伤疤紧贴着他肿胀的前额伸展着，剧烈的灼痛起来。他看到的东西比他所能辨认的自己周围任何事物还要清晰，他见到一栋高耸的建筑物，一座阴森的城堡，黑漆漆的令人生畏:伏地魔的思想突然再一次变得清晰无比；
　　他正在带着一个愉快的目的滑向那栋巨大的建筑……
　　越来越近了……越来越近了……
　　哈利用巨大的意志力努力关闭了自己和伏地魔思想的联系，将自己的思想拉回到他坐的地方，和罗恩，赫敏，迪安还有拉环绑在一起呆在黑暗中，听着格雷伯克和 斯盖伯说话。
　　“赫敏格兰杰，”斯盖伯念道， “那个据大家所知正在和哈利波特一起旅行的泥巴种。”
　　哈利的疤痕在默默地灼痛，但他用最大的努力让自己的意识呆在现在的位置，而不滑入伏地魔的思想中去。他听到格雷伯克靴子的吱吱作响声，他在赫敏面前蹲下。
　　“你知道吗，小姑娘？ 这张照片看着很像你。
　　“不! 不是我!”
　　赫敏受惊的尖叫声相当于在招供。
　　“据大家所知正在和哈利波特一起旅行，” 格雷伯克静静的重复了一句。
　　一片沉静。哈利的伤疤极其的疼痛，但是他用他所有的力量对抗进入伏地魔思想的引力。没有任何时刻比此刻留在自己的思想里更为重要。
　　“嗯，这使事情有所改变，不是吗？”格雷伯克低声说道。没有人说话。哈利感到那群搜捕手在呆呆地看着，他也感觉到赫敏靠着他的手臂在瑟瑟发抖。格雷伯克站起身来，走了几步来到哈利坐的地方，
　　再一次蹲下下来仔细地盯着他畸形的面孔看。
　　
　　“你前额上的这个是什么，弗农？"他轻声地问， 他的呼吸冲着哈利的鼻孔，并用一根污秽的手指按着那个伤疤。
　　“不要碰它!”哈利大叫；他无法控制自己，他想他都快痛得要吐了。
　　“我想你是戴眼镜的，是吗波特？” 格雷伯克低声问道。
　　“我发现了眼镜!”一个都在后面的搜捕手喊道。 “帐篷里有眼镜， 格雷伯克，等一下——”
　　片刻之后，哈利的破碎的眼镜被戴回到他的脸上。 搜捕手正在靠拢着凝视他。
　　“就是他!” 格雷伯克发出刺耳的声音。 “我们抓住了波特！”
　　他们全部向后退了几步，
　　被他们的发现惊呆了。正在努力将自己的意识留在自己痛得像裂开的脑子里的哈利无法想到任何应对的话语。片断的影像正在他的意识中破碎成片——他正在藏在黑色的城堡高墙的周围——不，他是哈利，被绑了起来和没有魔杖，深处困境——
　　正在向上看，看格雷伯克向最高的窗户，最高的塔——他是哈利，而且他们正在低声讨论着他的命运——
　　——是飞的时间了。
　　“去魔法部？”
　　“让魔法部见鬼吧”格雷伯克咆哮道。 “他们会遵守信用，我们将看都看不到一眼我说，我们应该直接带他给神秘人。”
　　“你要把他召唤到这里？”斯盖伯问，声音充满畏惧和惊恐。
　　“不，”吼道， “我没有——他们说他现在用马尔福的家作为一个基地。我们把这个男孩带去那里。”
　　哈利想他知道格雷伯克为什么没有在召唤伏地魔。只有当他们想要用他的时候，这个狼人才可能被允许穿着食死徒的袍子，但是只有伏地魔的亲信才能被烙上黑魔法标记:
　　格雷伯克还没有被授予这个最高荣誉。
　　哈利的疤痕再一次烧灼——
　　——他上升进入黑夜中，径直往那座塔的塔顶的窗户飞去——
　　“…… 完全确定是他？“因为如果不是， 格雷伯克，我们就完了。”
　　“这里谁负责？”吼道，遮掩着他片刻的不确定。 “我说那就是波特，他加上他的魔杖，那可是二十万个加隆啊!
　　但是如果你没胆量一起去，那就全是我的了，而不去，运气好的话，我会带这个丫头去!”
　　——黑色岩石上的窗户只打开了一条最小的缝，不够一个人进入…… 从窗户只可以看到一个裹在毯子里的一个人形轮廓……是死了还是在睡觉……？
　　“好!”斯盖伯 说。“好，我们和你一起去!他们这些剩下的怎么办， 格雷伯克，我们怎么处置他们？”
　　“最好多带些。 我们已经抓到两个麻瓜，那又是十个加隆。把剑也给我。如果它们是红宝石，那又是一笔小财。”
　　犯人们被拖到他们脚边。 哈利可以听到赫敏的呼吸， 急速而惊恐。
　　“抓牢绑紧。我来对付波特!” 格雷伯克说，他抓住哈利的一把头发；哈利可以感觉他黄色的长指甲正刮擦着他的头皮。 “数到3!1-2-3”
　　他们拖着各自的囚犯幻影移形。哈利挣扎着， 试图挣开格雷伯克，
　　但却是没有任何指望:罗恩和赫敏在两边紧紧地挤着他；他无法从其中分开，当呼吸被挤出他的身体时，他的伤疤更加灼痛——
　　——他强迫自己像蛇一样穿过一扇窗户的缝隙并着陆，像细胞中的水汽一样轻——向房间——
　　犯人们着陆在了在一条乡村小路上，他们由于战不闻而互相撞在对方身上。
　　哈利的眼睛仍然肿胀，他花了一些时间适应新环境，然后他看见一扇双开的锻铁门在一条看起来像长跑道的大道的路口。他松了一小口气。最糟的事情还没有发生:伏地魔不在这里。因为哈利一直在抵抗着那个影像，所以他知道伏地魔现在正在某个奇怪的堡垒中，在一座塔的塔顶。一旦伏地魔知道哈利在这里，他需要多久能赶到就是另一个问题了……

　　一个搜捕手大步走到门前，摇了摇门。

　　“我们怎么进去呢？门锁了，格雷伯克，我不能——啊!”

　　他吃惊地抽回手。门正在扭曲，扭成一个卷曲物铁正在扭，最后卷成一张骇人的脸，它用一种带着回响的铛铛声说道。“陈述你的来意!”

　　“我们抓到了波特!”格雷伯克炫耀的大声吼道。“我们已经捕获了哈利波特!”

　　门开了。

　　“快!”格雷伯克对手下说道，犯人们被押着走过大门，走上大道，穿过树篱。哈利看见白色幽灵状的东西在他的头顶，继而意识到是只孔雀而已。他打了个趔趄，却被格雷伯克拽着站了起来；现在他被背对背和另外四个犯人绑在一起，摇摇晃晃沿着路边走。闭上他肿胀的眼睛，他让伤疤的疼痛战胜他一会儿，因为他想知道伏地魔现在在做什么，他是否知道哈利被抓住了……

　　瘦弱的身形卷在薄薄的毯子下，毯子朝他打开了，骷髅似的脸，眼睛睁开了……这个瘦弱的男人坐了起来，深陷的眼睛盯着他，盯着伏地魔，他笑了。他的大部分牙齿都没有了……

　　“那么，你来了。我就知道你会……总有一天。但是你来这趟是毫无意义的。我从来就没有它。”

　　“你说谎!”

　　当伏地魔的愤怒在他身体里悸动时，哈利的伤疤预警了疼痛的爆发，他将自己的思想猛的扭回他自己的身体，在犯人们被推着走过碎石路的时候，他正尽力使自己的思想呆在原位。

　　一阵光芒照亮了他们所有人。

　　“这是怎么回事？”一个女人用冷冰冰的声音说道。

　　“我们来这里见他——黑魔王!”格雷伯克用刺耳的声音回答道。

　　“你是谁？”

　　“你认识我的!”"狼人的声音中一阵愤恨。“芬里尔?格雷伯克!我们抓到了哈利波特!”

　　格雷伯克抓过哈利，拽过他的身子让他的脸对着亮光，这使得其他的犯人也跟着一起被拖过来了。

　　“我知道他看起来很肿胀，夫人，但是这就是他!”斯盖伯说道。吹嘘道。“如果您靠近些看，你就看得到他的伤疤。还有，在这里，看见这个女孩了吗？和他一起旅行的泥巴种，夫人。毫无疑问这就是他，我们还得到了他的魔杖!在这儿，夫人”

　　哈利透过他肿胀的眼皮看到纳西莎?马尔福正在仔细检查着。斯盖伯将李木魔杖伸给她。她抬了抬她的眉毛。

　　“带他们进来”她说。

　　哈利和其他人推着走上宽阔的石头台阶，走到挂着成排肖像的走廊。

　　“跟我来，”纳西莎说道，领着他们穿过门厅。“我的儿子，德拉科，回家过复活节。如果那是哈利波特，他会知道。”

　　外面的黑暗使得客厅的光线十分耀眼；哈利即使眼睛睁不开也能辨认出这个房间很宽大。一个水晶的吊灯在天花板上挂着，暗紫的墙上挂着更多的肖像。当犯人们被搜捕手押进房间时，两个人影从华丽的大理石壁炉前的椅子里站了起来。

　　“这是怎么回事？”

　　卢修斯?马尔福可怕而熟悉的声音落在哈利的耳朵里，听起来懒洋洋的。他现在很惶恐。他看不到任何出路，他的恐惧已经是这样了，相比之下，封闭对伏地魔思想的联系似乎更容易些，尽管他的伤疤仍在灼痛。

　　“他们说他们抓住了波特，”纳西莎用冰冷的声音说道。“德拉科，过来这里。”

　　哈利不敢直视德拉科，但是他斜着眼睛看着他；一个些微高于他的人，从一把扶手椅子站起他的脸苍白削尖在金发的头发之下变得模糊。

　　格雷伯克强迫犯人们转个身靠着，以腾出位置使哈利直接暴露在吊灯之下。

　　“嗯，男孩？”狼人用刺耳的声音说道。

　　哈利正对着壁炉上的一面镜子，在漩涡状装饰的框架中有一个巨大的镀金的东西。透过他眼睛的细缝他看到镜子里自己的模样，这是从离开格里莫广场以来他第一次看到自己的模样。

　　他的脸是极大，泛着粉红色的光泽，每个特征都被赫敏的哲人咒扭曲了。他的黑发及肩，他的下巴周围有一个深色的阴影。若他不知道站在这里的就是他，他肯定会奇怪戴着他的眼镜的会是谁。他决定不说话，因为他的声音一定会出卖他；在德拉科靠近他的时候他仍在避免与德拉科的眼神接触。

　　“嗯，德拉科？”卢修斯?马尔福说道。他听起来充满渴望。“是他吗？是哈利波特吗？”

　　“我不——我不确定"，德拉科说。他尽力保持和格雷伯克的距离，当哈利看着他的时候，他似乎带着恐惧看着哈利。

　　“但仔细看他，看!靠近一些!”

　　哈利从未听过卢修斯?马尔福如此兴奋。

　　“德拉科，如果我们是把波特交给黑魔王的人，所有事都能得到原——”

　　“那么，我们也不会忘记实际上抓住他的人，我希望，马尔福先生？”格雷伯克威胁地说。

　　“当然不会，当然不会!卢修斯不耐烦地说。他自己靠近哈利，哈利即使从他肿胀的眼中也可以清楚看到他疲倦，苍白的脸。戴着这个肿胀的面具作脸，哈利感觉就像通过笼子的栅栏往外窥探。

　　“你对他做了什么？”卢修斯问格雷伯克。“他怎么变成这副模样？”

　　“不是我们做的。”

　　“在我看来，这更像是一个蛰人咒，”卢修斯说。

　　他的灰色眼睛扫过哈利的前额。

　　“这里有什么东西，”他低声说。“这可能是个伤疤，绷的紧紧的而又伸展(”德拉科，过来，好好看看!你认为呢？”

　　哈利看见德拉科的脸现在紧紧的靠上来，就在他父亲的脸旁边。他们长得极其相似，只除了他旁边的父亲带着兴奋，德拉科的表情充满着不情愿，甚至恐惧。

　　“我不知道，”他说，他走开向壁炉方向走去，他的母亲正站在那里看着。

　　“我们最好能确定，卢修斯，”纳西莎用冰冷却清晰的声音对丈夫说。“在我们召唤黑魔王之前，我们要完全确定这是波特……他们说这是他的”——她在仔细看着黑木魔杖“但这和奥利凡德的描述不像……如果我们弄错了，如果我们把黑魔王召唤来却发现什么也不是……还记得他是怎么处置莱尔和杜鲁哈的吗？”

　　“那这个麻瓜呢？”格雷伯克发牢骚地说。搜捕手强迫犯人再转过来地时候，哈利几乎要瘫倒，光线照在赫敏地身上。

　　“等一下，”纳西莎尖声说道。“是的?——是，在摩金夫人店里她和波特在一起!我在预言家日报上见过她的照片!看，德拉科，她不就是那个叫格兰杰的女孩吗？”

　　“我……也许……是。”"”

　　“那么，那就是那个韦斯莱”卢修斯喊道，大步绕过绑着的犯人对着罗恩。“他们是波特的朋友——德拉科，看看他，他不就是亚瑟?韦斯莱的儿子吗，他的名字叫什么来着——？”

　　“是的，”德拉科再一次说道，他背对犯人们。“可能是。”

　　客厅的门在哈利身后打开。一个女人在说话，她的声音极大的增加了哈利的恐惧感。

　　“这是怎么回事，发生了什么事，西茜？”

　　贝拉特里克斯?莱斯特兰奇慢慢地绕着犯人们走，停在哈利地右手边，透过她厚厚的眼皮盯着赫敏。

　　“确定，”她平静地说，“这是那个泥巴种女孩？这是格兰杰？”

　　“是的，是，是格兰杰!”卢修斯叫道，“而且在她旁边的，我们认为是波特!波特和他的朋友，终于落网了!”

　　“波特？”贝拉特里克斯发出尖叫，她渐渐后退，以便更好的看着哈利。“你确定？那么，我们应该立刻通知黑魔王!”

　　她挽起左手的袖子:哈利看见她的手臂上黑魔王的的烙印，知道她就要碰触它，通知她仰慕的主人——

　　“我正要告诉他!”卢修斯说，他的手放在贝拉特里克斯的手腕上，阻止她碰到黑魔标记。“我会召唤他，贝拉。波特是被待到我家来的，因此，这是我的权利——”

　　“你的权利!”她讥笑道，试图从他抓着的手中扭出自己的手。“当你丢了你的魔杖的时候，你就已经没有了权利，卢修斯!你怎么敢？把你的手从我身上拿开!”

　　“这与你无关，你没有去抓这个小子-”

　　“请您原谅，马尔福先生，”格雷伯克突然插嘴，“但是，是我们抓住的波特，也是我们才有权力得到金币”

　　“金币！”贝拉特里克斯大笑起来，仍然试着甩开她的姊夫，她另一只自由的手在袋中摸索着魔杖。“拿走你的金币，污秽的清道夫。我要金币有什么用？我只寻求他的……荣誉。”

　　她停止挣扎，黑色眼睛盯着哈利看不见的某件东西。看到她投降，卢修斯喜滋滋地松开她的手，撂起他的袖子。

　　“快停住！”贝拉特里克斯尖叫：“不要碰它，如果黑魔王现在到，我们全部都死定了！”

　　卢修斯一下子僵住了，他的食指停留在黑魔法标记上。贝拉特里克斯大步迈出哈利有限的视野。

　　“那是什么？”他听见她说。

　　“剑”，一个哈利看不到的抢劫者咕噜着说。

　　“把它给我。”

　　“不是你的，太太，是我的，我想是我发现了它。”

　　突然传来砰的一声伴随着红色的闪光；哈利知道抢夺者已经被打晕。他们的人发出一声怒吼：斯盖伯抽出他的魔杖。

　　“你觉得你到底在玩儿什么，女人？”

　　“昏昏倒地！”她尖叫着，“昏昏倒地！”

　　他们不是她的对手，即使是四对一：她是女巫，正如同哈利知道的一样，有着精湛的技艺和冷酷的心。他们全都在刚刚站着的地方倒下了，除了格雷伯克以外，他不得不跪在地上，伸开双臂。哈利从他的眼角看到贝拉特里克斯制服了这个狼人，格莱芬多的剑紧紧地握在她的手中，她的脸像蜡一般苍白。

　　“你从哪里得到的这把剑？”她对格雷伯克耳语道，同时把魔杖从他那已经毫无抵抗力的手中拉出来。

　　“你怎么敢？”他吼叫，当他被迫注视着她时，他唯一能动部分只剩下了嘴吧，他露出尖牙，“放开我，女人！”

　　“你哪里找到这把剑的？”她重复，在他面前挥动着剑，“斯内普把它送到了我在古灵阁的金库里！”

　　“是在他们的帐篷中。”格雷伯克怒吼道，“放开我，我说!”

　　她挥动了她的魔杖，狼人跳到一旁，但还是小心确保不靠近她。他在一把扶手椅子后面来回走动，他污秽弯曲的手指紧紧抓住椅子的背部。

　　“德拉科，把这些渣滓扔到外面去。”贝拉特里克斯说，指着那些昏迷的男人。“如果你没有勇气结果他们，那就把他们放在后院里等我处理。”

　　“你怎么敢那样跟德拉科说话，就象——”纳西莎狂暴地说，但是贝拉特里克斯尖叫着打断了她：“安静！情况比你想到要严重得多，西茜！我们有一个非常严重的问题!”

　　她站起身，微微喘息，低头注视着剑，检查它的柄。然后她回头看着沉默的囚犯。

　　“如果他的确是波特，他不能受到伤害。”她喃喃低语，与其说是对其他人说，不如说是他在自言自语。“黑魔王希望自己解决波特……但是如果他发现……我必须……我一定知道……”

　　她再一次转向她的姐姐。

　　“囚犯一定得放在地窖里，然后我再想想该怎么做!”

　　“这是我的房子，贝拉，你不能在我家中给我下命——”

　　“快干！你根本不知道我们现在有多危险！”贝拉特里克斯尖叫着。她看起来恐怖而且疯狂，一簇火从她的魔杖中砰发出来在地毯上烧了一个洞。

　　纳西莎犹豫一会儿，然后命令狼人：“把这些囚犯搬到地窖去，格雷伯克。”

　　“等一下，”贝拉特里克斯尖锐地说，“全部人，除了……除了，这个泥巴种以外。”

　　格雷伯克发出一个快乐的咕噜咕噜声。

　　“不！”罗恩喊道，“你可以留下我，留下我！”贝拉特里克斯打了罗恩一耳光：房间四周立刻响起了回声。

　　“如果她在讯问中死了，下一个就轮到你。”她说道，“在我的字典里血统叛逆者位置紧挨着泥巴种。把他们带到楼下，格雷伯克，确保他们的安全，除此以外什么也不要做——还不要做。”

　　她把格雷伯克的魔杖丢还给他，然后从她的长袍之下取出一把短银刀，把连接赫敏和其他人的绳割开，拉着赫敏的头发拖到大厅的中央。而格雷伯克拖拽剩下的人穿过另外的一扇门，进入一个黑暗的通道之内，他的魔杖指着前方，对抗着一种看不见的不可抵抗的力量。

　　“我估计审完她的时候，她会让我吃这个女孩的吧？”当他押着囚犯们穿过走廊的时候，格雷伯克低声哼着歌儿。“我要说我可能咬一下或两下，不是吗，姜黄头？”

　　哈利可以感觉到罗恩在战栗。他们被押下去，来到一个很陡的楼梯口，仍然被背对背地绑着，随时处于滑倒和摔断脖子的危险中。在底部他们看到一扇厚重的门。格雷伯克轻挥魔杖打开了它，强迫他们进入一个漏水发霉的房间，并把他们留在了彻底的黑暗中。被猛然关上的地窖门的回声还未消散前，从他们上面传来了可怕的尖叫声。

　　“赫敏！”罗恩怒吼，他开始翻腾，奋力要挣脱捆住他们的绳子，“赫敏!”哈利因此而跟着晃来晃去。

　　“安静！”哈利说，“闭嘴，罗恩，我们需要想出方法——”

　　“赫敏！赫敏！”

　　“我们需要一个计划，别叫了——我们必须松开绳子——”

　　“哈利？”黑暗中有人小声说，“罗恩？那是你吗？”

　　罗恩停止呼喊。一个移动的声音向他们逼近，接着哈利看到有一个阴影向他们靠近。

　　“哈利？罗恩？”

　　“卢娜？”

　　“是的，是我！哦不，我不想要你们也被抓到了!”

　　“卢娜，你能帮我们解开这些粗绳子吗？”

　　“哦，是的，我希望可以……我们要弄断什么的话，有一个旧的钉子可以用……马上就好……”

　　赫敏在他们的上方再一次尖叫起来，他们听到贝拉特里克斯也在尖叫，但听不清她的话，因为罗恩再一次叫起来：“赫敏！赫敏!”

　　“奥利凡德先生？”哈利听到卢娜在说。“奥利凡德先生你拿到钉子了吗？如果你再移动一点点……我觉得它就在水壶旁边。”

　　几秒后她回来了。

　　“你们不要动。”她说。

　　哈利可以感觉她在使劲刮着粗绳的纤维，努力把结松开。他们听到了从二楼传来的贝拉特里克斯的声音。

　　“我再问你一次！你哪里得到的这把剑？哪里？”

　　“我们找到的——我们找到的——求你！“赫敏再一次尖叫起来。罗恩挣扎得前所未有的激烈，生锈的钉子刺到了哈利的手腕。

　　“罗恩，请不要动！”卢娜小声说，“我看不见我在干什么。”

　　“我的口袋！”罗恩说，“在我的口袋中有个熄灯器，里面充满了光！”

　　几秒之后，克嗒的一声，熄灯器从帐篷的灯吸收的光亮形成很多散发着冷光的光球照亮了整个地窖。它们不能再重新聚集光源，只是挂在那里，就像些小太阳，使地窖充满了光亮。哈利见到卢娜苍白脸上的大眼睛和一动不动的魔杖制造商奥利凡德，他在角落的地板上蜷缩着。他抬头四处看，看到了其他的囚犯：迪安和妖精拉环，它几乎毫无意识，和跟它绑在一起的人类站在一起。

　　“哦，这简单多了，谢谢，罗恩，”卢娜说，重新开始磨绑着他们的绳子，“你好，迪安！”

　　从上方传来贝拉特里克斯的声音。

　　“你正在说谎，肮脏的泥巴种，我知道！你进过我在古灵阁的金库！说实话！说实话!”

　　又传来了可怕尖叫声……

　　“赫敏！”

　　“你们还拿到什么？你们还得到了什么？快告诉我实话，不然我发誓，我会用这把刀折磨死你！”

　　“好了!”

　　哈利感觉粗绳旋转着松开，磨擦他的手腕，看到罗恩在地窖的周围乱跑的，他抬头看着低低的天花板，寻找着活板门。脸被打伤带着血痕的迪安对卢娜说：“谢谢！”然后颤抖着站在那里；而拉环滩倒在地板上，看上去像喝醉了一样没有意识，黑黝黝的脸上有很多鞭打的痕迹。

　　罗恩正试图不用魔杖就幻影移行。

　　“这是出不去的，罗恩”，卢娜说，看着他做无谓的努力。“地窖是完全地防逃跑。我开始时试过。奥利凡德先生已经在这里有很长的一段时间，他什么都试过了。”

　　赫敏又开始尖叫：哈利听到这声音感觉自己也遭受着相同的疼痛。几乎不能意识到他伤疤的剧烈疼痛，他也开始在地窖里四下乱跑，摸着墙壁想找出路，但在他的心中知道这样根本没有用。

　　“你还得到了什么？还有什么？回答我！钻心剜骨!”

　　赫敏的尖叫声在二楼的墙壁上回响，快要哭出来的罗恩用他的拳头强烈打击墙壁，；完全绝望了的哈利从他的脖子上抓住了海格的小袋，开始掏着什么：他掏出了邓布利多的飞贼摇了摇，他也不知道抱着什么希望——什么也没发生——他挥动着断成两截的凤凰魔杖，但它们毫无活力——镜子碎片闪着光跌落到地板上，突然他见到一首明亮的蓝光闪过。

　　邓布利多的眼睛正在从镜子凝视关着他。

　　“救救我们！”他在疯狂的绝望中对它大叫，“我们在马尔福庄园的地窖中，帮帮我们！”

　　那眼睛眨了一下就消失了。

　　哈利甚至不能确信它真的出现过。他这边那边地倾斜着镜子碎片，但除了反映出他们牢房的墙壁和天花板，别的什么也没有。而且楼上的赫敏正在更凄惨地尖叫着，哈利旁边的罗恩也在吼着：“赫敏！赫敏!”

　　“你们怎么进到我的金库的？”他们听到贝拉特里克斯尖叫，“是不是在地窖中那个肮脏的小妖精帮助了你们？”

　　“我们就在今晚才遇到他的！”赫敏发出呜咽声音，“我们没去过你的金库……不是真正的剑！是赝品，只是赝品！”

　　“赝品？”贝拉特里克斯尖叫，“哦，编得挺像呀！”

　　“我们能容易能查出来！”卢修斯说道，“德拉科，把那个妖精带来，他能告诉我们剑是否是真正的！”

　　哈利猛地穿过地窖冲到躺着的拉环身边。

　　“拉环”，他对着妖精的尖耳朵小声说，“你一定告诉他们，剑是赝品，他们绝不能知道那是真的，拉环，求你了——”

　　他听到有人打开地窖的门；随即，从门外传来德拉科战栗的声音：

　　“往后站。面对墙排成一排，不要干蠢事，不然我就杀了你们！”

　　他们照做了，当锁转开。罗恩熄灭了熄灯器并放进口袋，地窖恢复了黑暗。门开了，马尔福走进来，魔杖举胸前，脸色苍白而坚决。他一把抓住小妖精的胳臂，把拉环拖走。门猛然关上，与此同时在地窖里发出响亮的爆裂声。

　　罗恩开启了熄灯器。三个光球从他的口袋里重新回到了地窖。家养小妖精多比突然出现在他俩的中间。

　　“多——！”

　　哈利拍打着罗恩的手臂不让他叫出声，罗恩看起来对他犯的错误感到后悔。脚步声越过了天花板从头顶传来，德拉科拖着拉环来到贝拉特里克斯面前。

　　多比巨大的网球状的眼睛睁得滚圆；他从头到脚都在发抖。他又回到他以前主人的家中，很明显它被吓坏了。

　　“哈利。波特，”他用最小的颤抖着的尖声说道，“多比来救你了。”

　　“但是你怎么——”

　　一声可怕的尖叫声湮没了哈利要说的话：赫敏正再一次被拷问。他迅速回到主题。

　　“你能从这个地窖幻影移行吗？”他问，多比点着头，耳朵拍打着。

　　“那你能带着人类吗？”

　　多比再一次点头。

　　“太好了，多比，我想要你抓取卢娜、迪安和奥利凡得先生，把他们——带到——把他们带到——”

　　“比尔和芙蓉家，”罗恩说，“贝壳小宅，在汀沃斯的近郊！”

　　家养小精灵第三次点了点头。

　　“然后再回来，”哈利说，“你能行吗，多比？”

　　“当然，哈利波特，”多比小声说。他来到奥利凡德先生面前，奥利凡德先生几乎毫无意识。他抓住魔杖制作者的一只手，另一只手申向卢娜和迪安，但他们谁也没动。

　　“哈利，我们要帮助你！”卢娜小声说。

　　“我们把你们留在这儿。”迪安说。

　　“你们俩快走！我们将会在比尔和芙蓉家见到你们。”

　　哈利说着，他的疤痕痛得比以前更厉害了。他向下看了几秒钟，看到的不是魔杖制造商，而是另一个男人，又老又瘦，轻蔑地笑道。

　　“那么杀了我，伏地魔。我欢迎死亡！但是我死了你就什么都得不到了……你有许多东西都不知道……”

　　他感觉了伏地魔的愤怒，但是当赫敏再一次尖叫时，他努力摆脱了这个画面，回到地窖里他现在所处的困境。

　　“快走！”哈利对卢娜和迪安恳求，“走吧！我们很快会跟来，快走！”

　　他们抓住小妖精的伸出的手指。伴随着一阵的巨大声音，多比、卢娜、迪安和奥利凡德消失了。

　　“那是什么？”卢修斯。马尔福从在他们的头上呼喊，“你们听到了吗？地窖里是什么声音？”

　　哈利和罗恩盯着对方。

　　“德拉科——不，快叫虫尾巴。让他去查查看!”

　　脚步声在他们的头顶穿过了房间，接着是一阵安静。哈利知道会客室中的人正竖着耳朵听来自地窖的声音。

　　“我们得去对付他。”他对罗恩耳语道。他们别无选择：如果有人进入房间看见少了三个囚犯，他们就完蛋了。“开着灯，”哈利补上一句。他们听到脚步声在门外慢了下来，他们俩各自靠着两边的墙。

　　“往后站，”虫尾巴说道，“离门远点。我要开门了。”门飞快地打开。在三个小型太阳般漂浮在半空中的光球照耀下，虫尾巴立刻就看到了显然已经空荡荡的地窖。紧接着哈利和罗恩向他发起进攻。罗恩抓住了虫尾巴拿魔杖胳臂并往上拉。哈利“啪”地用手捂住他的嘴，不让他发出声音。他们静静的搏斗。虫尾巴的魔杖发出了火花；他的银手牢牢抓住了哈利喉咙。

　　“怎么了，虫尾巴？”卢修斯。马尔福从上面呼叫。

　　“没什么！”罗恩尽可能模仿着虫尾巴气喘吁吁的声音回答道，“一切都好！”

　　哈利无法呼吸。

　　“你想要杀我？”哈利快窒息了，尝试抓住那金属手指，“在我救了你的命之后？你欠我的，虫尾巴！”

　　银制的手指松开了。这出乎哈利的预料：他猛地挣脱出来，手还是捂在虫尾巴的嘴上。他见到这个像老鼠一样的人那水汪汪的眼睛里满是恐惧和惊讶：对他的手刚才所做的事，对他刚才表现出的小小的仁慈，他似乎跟哈利一样感到很惊讶。他更激烈地挣扎着，似乎要掩盖他那片刻的脆弱。

　　“我们将得到这个，”罗恩小声说，把虫尾巴的魔杖从他的另一支手里拽了出来。

　　失去了魔杖，虫尾巴绝望了。恐惧使小矮星彼得的瞳孔扩大了。他的眼神从哈利的脸上移向别处。他的银手指无情地向自己的喉咙移动。

　　“不——”

　　想都没想，哈利赶紧拽回那只手，但却不能阻止它。伏地魔赐给他最懦弱的仆人的银制工具已经转向对付它那赤手空拳的无用的主人，小矮星彼得正在为他的犹豫而付出代价，他瞬间的怜悯导致他将在他们的眼前勒死。

　　“不！”

　　罗恩也已经放开虫尾巴，他和哈利一起试图拉开锁在虫尾巴的咽喉上的金属制的手指，但是没有用。小矮星彼得变得铁青。

　　“力松劲泄！”罗恩说，用魔杖瞄准银手，但也没用；小矮星彼得跪了下去。这时，赫敏发出一声最可怕的尖叫声。虫尾巴的眼睛在他的紫青脸上翻着；他最后一抽搐，再也不能动了。

　　哈利和罗恩相互看看，然后把虫尾巴的尸体留在他们身后的地板上，跑上了漆黑的楼梯，回到通向会客室的阴暗的走廊。他们向前蹑手蹑脚地来到会客室门口，门微开着。现在他们清楚地看见贝拉特里克斯向下看着拉环，他的长手指正握着格拉芬多的剑。赫敏正趴在贝拉特里克斯的脚边，几乎不能动。

　　“那么，”贝拉特里克斯向拉环问道，“它是真正的剑吗？”

　　哈利屏息以待，对抗伤疤的刺痛。

　　“不，”拉环说，“是赝品。”

　　“你确定吗？”贝拉特里克斯喘息一下，“十分确信？”

　　“是的。”妖精说道。

　　她的脸上表情马上就放松了，所有的紧张都散去了。

　　“好的，”她说道，不经意地挥了一下魔杖，妖精的脸上就又多了一道深深的伤痕。妖精摔倒在她的脚下大叫了一声。她一脚踢开了他。“那么现在，”她用一种充满成功喜悦之情的声音说，“我们召唤黑魔王！”

　　她卷起袖子，用食指触碰着黑魔法标记。

　　立刻，哈利感觉伤疤好像再一次劈开。他周围真实环境消失：他现在是伏地魔。在他面前那个瘦骨嶙峋的男巫张着嘴对他大笑；他被他感觉到的召唤激怒了——他警告过他们，告诉过他们除非找到波特不要召唤他。如果他们弄错了……

　　“那么，杀了我吧！”老男人要求，“你赢不了，你不可能赢！那一只魔杖永远不会是你的……”

　　伏地魔愤怒到极点：绿色的光充满了监牢，老人脆弱的身体从它的硬床上弹起，又掉了下去，死了。伏地魔回到窗户边，无法抑制他的愤怒……如果他们没有让他回来的好理由，他们会遭受他的惩罚……

　　“我想想，”贝拉特里克斯说，“我们可以解决掉这个泥巴种。如果你想要她，格雷伯克，给你。”

　　“不不不不不不不……”

　　罗恩已经冲进了会客厅；贝拉特里克斯震惊的看到了他，她把魔杖对准对面的罗恩——

　　“除你武器！”他吼叫着，用虫尾巴的魔杖瞄准贝拉特里克斯，她的魔杖飞了起来，被紧跟着罗恩冲进去的哈利抓住。卢修斯、纳西莎、德拉科和格雷伯克包围了过来。哈利大叫“昏昏倒地！”卢修斯。马尔福倒在壁炉旁。黑色的光从德拉科、纳西莎和格雷伯克的魔杖中飞射出来，哈利赶紧卧倒在地上滚动到一张沙发后面躲避它们。

　　“住手！否则就要她的命！”

　　哈利喘息着在沙发的后边窥视。贝拉特里克斯拉着失去意识的赫敏，用她的短银刀抵着赫敏的咽喉。

　　“扔掉你们的魔杖！”她低声说，“扔掉它们，否则就让我们看看她的血有多么肮脏！”

　　罗恩刚毅地站立着，紧握着虫尾巴的魔杖。哈利站直了身体，仍拿着贝拉特里克斯的魔杖。

　　“我说过了，把它们扔掉！”她尖叫着声音，把刀锋压进赫敏的咽喉上：哈利看到那儿冒出了血珠。

　　“好的！”他喊道，把贝拉特里克斯的魔杖扔在脚下。罗恩也把虫尾巴的扔掉了。他们两个都把手举过肩。

　　“好！”她恶狠狠的看着，“德拉科，把它们拣起来！黑魔王要来了，哈利波特！你的死期到了！”

　　哈利知道；他的疤痕正在痛苦地爆裂，他可以感到伏地魔从很远的地方的天空飞来，飞过黑暗汹涌的大海，很快他就会离他们足够近，可以幻影移行。哈利看不到出路。

　　“现在，”贝拉特里克斯柔和地说，德拉科赶忙把魔杖还给她，“西茜，在格雷伯克，去照料泥巴种小姐时，我想我们应该再一次将这些小英雄捆起来。根据今晚你所作的事，格雷伯克。我确信黑魔王不会不舍得把这个女孩给你的。”

　　她刚说完，上面传来了一个奇怪的摩擦的声音。他们马上一起抬起头，刚好看到水晶的吊灯在颤抖，然后随着辗轧声和不吉利的叮当声，它掉了下来。贝拉特里克斯正好在它的下面，她推开赫敏，尖叫地跑到另一边。吊灯在水晶和链条的爆裂声中砸向地板，就要落在赫敏和仍紧紧抓着格拉芬多之剑的妖精的头顶。闪光的水晶碎片向四面八方飞散开，德拉科快步跑开，双手捂住出血的脸。

　　罗恩冲向赫敏，把她从这个灾难中推了出去。哈利抓住这个机会:他跳过一把扶手椅子夺下了德拉科紧握着的三支魔杖，把它们全部瞄准格雷伯克大叫：“昏昏倒地！”狼人被三倍的魔咒扔向了天花板然后瘫落到地面上。

　　纳西莎拽着德拉科远离更大的伤害。贝拉特里克斯跳起来，当她挥舞银刀时，头发也在飞舞着；但是纳西莎已经用魔杖指着走廊。

　　“多比！”她尖叫着，甚至连贝拉特里克斯都镇住了。“你！是你扔下吊灯——？”

　　家养小精灵小跑着进入房间，颤抖的手指指着以前的女主人。

　　“你决不能伤害哈利波特！”他尖叫着。

　　“杀了他，西茜！”贝拉特里克斯尖叫。但是另外一个更大的声音响起，纳西莎的魔杖飞向空中，掉在房间的另一侧。

　　“你这肮脏的小猴子！”贝拉特里克斯大叫，“你怎么敢拿巫师的魔杖。你怎么公然反抗你的主人？”

　　“多比没有主人！”小妖精发出尖锐的叫声，“多比是一个自由的小精灵。多比回来解救哈利波特和他的朋友！”

　　哈利伤疤疼的几乎使他失明。朦胧中他知道他们还有一点点时间，在伏地魔到来之前。

　　“罗恩，抓住——快走！”他大叫着，扔给罗恩一根魔杖；然后他弯下腰拽出压在吊灯下的拉环，把这个仍旧紧握着剑，呻吟着的妖精扛在肩上，哈利抓住了多比的手并且快速旋转幻影移行。

　　在他进入黑暗前，最后瞥了一眼会客室，看见纳西莎和德拉科苍白着脸一动不动；罗恩飞扬的红头发；贝拉特里克斯穿过整个房间向他们刚才所在的地方扔来的刀划出银蓝色的光。

　　比尔和芙蓉的家……贝壳小宅……比尔和芙蓉的家……

　　他已经进入未知的世界；他所能做的只是重复目的地的名字，希望这足以把他带到那里。他的前额痛苦刺痛着他，而且妖精的重量压着他；他感到格拉芬多的剑锋碰伤他的背部；多比的手在他的手中痉挛；他想知道小精灵是否正努力行动，把他们带去正确的方向，试着通过挤压手指表示他们能行……

　　然后他们碰到了坚硬的土地而且闻了有盐味的空气。哈利跪下来，放开了多比的手，试着轻轻地把拉环放下。

　　“你还好吧？"他对颤抖地妖精说，但拉环只是呜咽。

　　哈利在黑暗中四处巡视。在广阔的星空下一条小路的不远处就是一间小别墅，他觉得他看到有东西在屋外移动。

　　“多比，这是贝壳小宅吗？”他小声说，紧握着他从马尔福家抢来的两支魔杖，时刻准备着战斗。“我们已经到达正确的地方了吗？多比？”

　　他四处看看，小精灵站在离他不远的地方。

　　“多比！”

　　小妖精微微晃动，星光倒映在他的闪亮的大眼睛中。他和哈利一起往下看到了银色的短刀插在小精灵的胸口。

　　“多比——不——快来人啊！”哈利向小屋吼叫，向正在往这里走的人喊，“来人啊！”

　　他根本不知道，也不关心他们是巫师还是麻瓜，朋友还是敌人；他关心的只是多比胸前蔓延开的黑色污点。多比带着恳求的神色向哈利伸出双臂。哈利抓住他，让他仰躺在寒冷地草地上。

　　“多比，不，别死，别死——”

　　小精灵的眼睛找到了他，他颤抖着嘴唇努力地说出几个字。

　　“哈利……波特……”

　　然后随着一阵战栗，多比再也不动了。他那大玻璃球般的眼睛倒映着他再也看不到的星星的光芒。

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Chapter 22 The Deathly Hallows
Harry fell, panting, onto grass and scrambled up at once. They seemed to have landed in the corner of a field at dusk; Hermione was already running in a circle around them, waving her wand.
“Protego Totalum…Salvio Hexia…”
“That treacherous old bleeder.” Ron panted, emerging from beneath the Invisibility Cloak and throwing it to Harry. “Hermione you’re a genius, a total genius. I can’t believe we got out of that.”
“Cave Inimicum…Didn’t I say it was a Frumpent horn, didn’t I tell him? And now his house has been blown apart!”
“Serves him right,” said Ron, examining his torn jeans and the cuts to his legs, “What’d you reckon they’ll do to him?”
“Oh I hope they don’t kill him!” groaned Hermione, “That’s why I wanted the Death Eaters to get a glimpse of Harry before we left, so they knew Xenophilius hadn’t been lying!”
“Why hide me though?” asked Ron.
“You’re supposed to be in bed with spattergrolt, Ron! They’ve kidnapped Luna because her father supported Harry! What would happen to your family if they knew you’re with him?”
“But what about your mum and dad?”
“They’re in Australia,” said Hermione, “They should be all right. They don’t know anything.”
“You’re a genius,” Ron repeated, looking awed.
“Yeah, you are, Hermione,” agreed Harry fervently. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
She beamed, but became solemn at once.
“What about Luna?”
“Well, if they’re telling the truth and she’s still alive –” began Ron.
“Don’t say that, don’t say it!” squealed Hermione. “She must be alive, she must!”
“Then she’ll be in Azkaban, I expect,” said Ron. “Whether she survives the place, though…Loads don’t…”
“She will,” said Harry. He could not bear to contemplate the alternative. “She’s tough, Luna, much tougher than you’d think. She’s probably teaching all the inmates about Wrackspurts and Nargles.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Hermione. She passed a hand over her eyes. “I’d feel so sorry for Xenophilius if –”
“– if he hadn’t just tried to sell us to the Death Eaters, yeah,” said Ron.
They put up the tent and retreated inside it, where Ron made them tea. After their narrow escape, the chilly, musty old place felt like home: safe, familiar, and friendly.
“Oh, why did we go there?” groaned Hermione after a few minutes’ silence. “Harry, you were right, it was Godric’s Hollow all over again, a complete waste of time! The Deathly Hallows…such rubbish…although actually,” a sudden thought seemed to have struck her, “he might have made it all up, mightn’t he? He probably doesn’t believe in the Deathly Hallows at all, he just wanted to keep us talking until the Death Eaters arrived!”
“I don’t think so,” said Ron. “It’s a damn sight harder making stuff up when you’re under stress than you’d think. I found that out when the Snatchers caught me. It was much easier pretending to be Stan, because I knew a bit about him, than inventing a whole new person. Old Lovegood was under loads of pressure, trying to make sure we stayed put. I reckon he told us the truth, or what he thinks is the truth, just to keep us talking.”
“Well, I don’t suppose it matters,” sighed Hermione. “Even if he was being honest, I never heard such a lot of nonsense in all my life.”
“Hang on, though,” said Ron. “The Chamber of Secrets was supposed to be a myth, wasn’t it?”
“But the Deathly Hallows can’t exist, Ron!”
“You keep saying that, but one of them can,” said Ron. “Harry’s Invisibility Cloak –”
“The Tale of the Three Brothers’ is a story,” said Hermione firmly. “A story about how humans are frightened of death. If surviving was as simple as hiding under the Invisibility Cloak, we’d have everything we need already!”
“I don’t know. We could do with an unbeatable wand,” said Harry, turning the blackthorn wand he so disliked over in his fingers.
“There’s no such thing, Harry!”
“You said there have been loads of wands – the Deathstick and whatever they were called –”
“All right, even if you want to kid yourself the Elder Wand’s real, what about the Resurrection Stone?” Her fingers sketched quotation marks around the name, and her tone dripped sarcasm. “No magic can raise the dead, and that’s that!”
“When my wand connected with You-Know-Who’s, it made my mum and dad appear…and Cedric…”
“But they weren’t really back from the dead, were they?” said Hermione. “Those kind of –of pale imitations aren’t the same as truly bringing someone back to life.”
“But she, the girl in the tale, didn’t really come back, did she? The story says that once people are dead, they belong with the dead. But the second brother still got to see her and talk to her, didn’t he? He even lived with her for a while…”
He saw concern and something less easily definable in Hermione’s expression. Then, as she glanced at Ron, Harry realized that it was fear: He had scared her with his talk of living with dead people.
“So that Peverell bloke who’s buried in Godric’s Hollow,” he said hastily, trying to sound robustly sane, “you don’t know anything about him, then?”
“No,” she replied, looking relieved at the change of subject. “I looked him up after I saw the mark on his grave; if he’d been anyone famous or done anything important, I’m sure he’d be in one of our books. The only place I’ve managed to find the name ‘Peverell’ Is Nature’s Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. I borrowed it from Kreacher,” she explained as Ron raised his eyebrows. “It lists the pure-blood families that are now extinct in the male line. Apparently the Peverells were one of the earliest families to vanish.”
“Extinct in the male line?” repeated Ron.
“It means the name died out,” said Hermione, “centuries ago, in the case of the Peverells. They could still have descendents, though, they’d just be called something different.”
And then it came to Harry in one shining piece, the memory that had stirred at the sound of the name “Peverell”: a filthy old man brandishing an ugly ring in the face of a Ministry official, and he cried aloud, “Marvolo Gaunt!”
“Sorry” said Ron and Hermione together.
“Marvolo Gaunt! You-Know-Who’s grandfather! In the Pensieve! With Dumbledore! Marvolo Gaunt said he was descended from the Peverells!”
Ron and Hermione looked bewildered.
“The ring, the ring that became the Horcrux, Marvolo Gaunt said it had the Peverell coat of arms on it! I saw him waving it in the bloke from the Ministry’s face, he nearly shoved it up his nose!”
“The Peverell coat of arms?” said Hermione sharply. “Could you see what it looked like?”
“Not really,” said Harry, trying to remember. “There was nothing fancy on there, as far as I could see; maybe a few scratches. I only ever saw it really close up after it had been cracked open.”
Harry saw Hermione’s comprehension in the sudden widening of her eyes. Ron was looking from one to the other, astonished.
“Blimey…You reckon it was this sign again? The sign of the Hallows?”
“Why not?” said Harry excitedly, “Marvolo Gaunt was an ignorant old git who lived like a pig, all he cared about was his ancestry. If that ring had been passed down through the centuries, he might not have known what it really was. There were no books in that house, and trust me, he wasn’t the type to read fairy tales to his kids. He’d have loved to think the scratches on the stone were a coat of arms, because as far as he was concerned, having pure blood made you practically royal.”
“Yes…and that’s all very interesting,” said Hermione cautiously, “but Harry, if you’re thinking what I think you’re think –”
“Well, why not? Why not?” said Harry, abandoning caution. “It was a stone, wasn’t it?” He looked at Ron for support. “What if it was the Resurrection Stone?”
Ron’s mouth fell open.
“Blimey – but would it still work if Dumbledore broke –?”
“Work? Work? Ron, it never worked! There’s no such thing as a Resurrection Stone!”
Hermione leapt to her feet, looking exasperated and angry. “Harry you’re trying to fit everything into the Hallows story –”
“Fit everything in?” he repeated. “Hermione, it fits of its own accord! I know the sign of the Deathly Hallows was on that stone! Gaunt said he was descended from the Peverells!”
“A minute ago you told us you never saw the mark on the stone properly!”
“Where’d you reckon the ring is now?” Ron asked Harry. “What did Dumbledore do with it after he broke it open?”
But Harry’s imagination was racing ahead, far beyond Ron and Hermione’s…
Three objects, or Hallows, which, if united, will make the possessor master of Death…Master…Conqueror…Vanquisher…The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death…
And he saw himself, possessor of the Hallows, facing Voldemort, whose Horcruxes were no match…Neither can live while the other survives…Was this the answer? Hallows versus Horcruxes? Was there a way after all, to ensure that he was the one who triumphed? If he were the master of the Deathly Hallows, would he be safe?
“Harry?”
But he scarcely heard Hermione: He had pulled out his Invisibility Cloak and was running it through his fingers, the cloth supple as water, light as air. He had never seen anything to equal it in his nearly seven years in the Wizarding world. The Cloak was exactly what Xenophilius had described: A cloak that really and truly renders the wearer completely invisible, and endures eternally, giving constant and impenetrable concealment, no matter what spells are cast at it…
And then, with a gasp, he remembered –
“Dumbledore had my Cloak the night my parents died!”
His voice shook and he could feel the color in his face, but he did not care.
“My mum told Sirius that Dumbledore borrowed the Cloak! This is why! He wanted to examine it, because he thought it was the third Hallow! Ignotus Peverell is buried in Godric’s Hollow…” Harry was walking blindly around the tent, feeling as though great new vistas of truth were opening all around him. “He’s my ancestor. I’m descended from the third brother! It all makes sense!”
“He felt armed in certainty, in his belief in the Hallows, as if the mere idea of possessing them was giving him protection, and he felt joyous as he turned back to the other two.”
“Harry,” said Hermione again, but he was busy undoing the pouch around his neck, his fingers shaking hard.
“Read it,” he told her, pushing his mother’s letter into her hand. “Read it! Dumbledore had the Cloak, Hermione! Why else would he want it? He didn’t need a Cloak, he could perform a Disillusionment Charm so powerful that he made himself completely invisible without one!”
Something fell to the floor and rolled, glittering, under a chair: He had dislodged the Snitch when he pulled out the letter. He stooped to pick it up, and then the newly tapped spring of fabulous discoveries threw him another gift, and shock and wonder erupted inside him so that he shouted out.
“IT’S IN HERE! He left me the ring – it’s in the Snitch!”
“You – you reckon?”
He could not understand why Ron looked taken aback. It was so obvious, so clear to Harry. Everything fit, everything…His Cloak was the third Hallow, and when he discovered how to open the Snitch he would have the second, and then all he needed to do was find the first Hallow, the Elder Wand, and then –
But it was as though a curtain fell on a lit stage: All his excitement, all his hope and happiness were extinguished at a stroke, and he stood alone in the darkness, and the glorious spell was broken.
“That’s what he’s after.”
The change in his voice made Ron and Hermione look even more scared.
“You-Know-Who’s after the Elder Wand.”
He turned his back on their strained, incredulous faces. He knew it was the truth. It all made sense, Voldemort was not seeking a new wand; he was seeking an old wand, a very old wand indeed. Harry walked to the entrance of the tent, forgetting about Ron and Hermione as he looked out into the night, thinking…
Voldemort had been raised in a Muggle orphanage. Nobody could have told him The Tales of Beedle the Bard when he was a child, any more than Harry had heard them. Hardly any wizards believed in the Deathly Hallows. Was it likely that Voldemort knew about them?
Harry gazed into the darkness…If Voldemort had known about the Deathly Hallows, surely he would have sought them, done anything to possess them: three objects that made the possessor master of Death? If he had known about the Deathly Hallows, he might not have needed Horcruxes in the first place. Didn’t the simple fact that he had taken a Hallow, and turned it into a Horcrux, demonstrate that he did not know this last great Wizarding secret?
Which meant that Voldemort sought the Elder Wand without realizing its full power, without understanding that it was one of three…for the wand was the Hallow that could not be hidden, whose existence was best known…The bloody trail of the Elder Wand is splattered across the pages of Wizarding history…
Harry watched the cloudy sky, curves of smoke-gray and silver sliding over the face of the white moon. He felt lightheaded with amazement at his discoveries.
He turned back into the tent. It was a shock to see Ron and Hermione standing exactly where he had left them, Hermione still holding Lily’s letter, Ron at her side looking slightly anxious. Didn’t they realize how far they had traveled in the last few minutes?
“This is it?” Harry said, trying to bring them inside the glow of his own astonished certainty, “This explains everything. The Deathly Hallows are real and I’ve got one – maybe two –”
He held up the Snitch.
“– and You-Know-Who’s chasing the third, but he doesn’t realize…he just thinks it’s a powerful wand –”
“Harry,” said Hermione, moving across to him and handing him back Lily’s letter, “I’m sorry, but I think you’ve got this wrong, all wrong.”
“But don’t you see? It all fits –”
“Not, it doesn’t,” she said. “It doesn’t. Harry, you’re just getting carried away. Please,” she said as she started to speak, “please just answer me this: If the Deathly Hallows really existed, and Dumbledore knew about them, knew that the person who possessed all of them would be master of Death – Harry, why wouldn’t he have told you? Why?”
He had his answer ready.
“But you said it, Hermione! You’ve got to find out about them for yourself! It’s a Quest!”
“But I only said that to try and persuade you to come to the Lovegoods’!” cried Hermione in exasperation. “I didn’t really believe it!”
Harry took no notice.
“Dumbledore usually let me find out stuff for myself. He let me try my strength, take risks. This feels like the kind of thing he’d do.”
“Harry, this isn’t a game, this isn’t practice! This is the real thing, and Dumbledore left you very clear instructions: Find and destroy the Horcruxes! That symbol doesn’t mean anything, forget the Deathly Hallows, we can’t afford to get sidetracked –”
Harry was barely listening to her. He was turning the Snitch over and over in his hands, half expecting it to break open, to reveal the Resurrection Stone, to prove to Hermione that he was right, that the Deathly Hallows were real.
She appealed to Ron.
“You don’t believe in this, do you?”
Harry looked up, Ron hesitated.
“I dunno…I mean…bits of it sort of fit together,” said Ron awkwardly, “But when you look at the whole thing…” He took a deep breath. “I think we’re supposed to get rid of Horcruxes, Harry. That’s what Dumbledore told us to do. Maybe…maybe we should forget about this Hallows business.”
“Thank you, Ron,” said Hermione. “I’ll take first watch.”
And she strode past Harry and sat down in the tent entrance bringing the action to a fierce full stop.
But Harry hardly slept that night. The idea of the Deathly Hallows had taken possession of him, and he could not rest while agitating thoughts whirled through his mind: the wand, the stone, and the Cloak, if he could just possess them all…
I open at the close…But what was the close? Why couldn’t he have the stone now? If only he had the stone, he could ask Dumbledore these questions in person…and Harry murmured words to the Snitch in the darkness, trying everything, even Parseltongue, but the golden ball would not open…
And the wand, the Elder Wand, where was that hidden? Where was Voldemort searching now? Harry wished his scar would burn and show him Voldemort’s thoughts, because for the first time ever, he and Voldemort were united in wanting the very same thing…Hermione would not like that idea, of course…But then, she did not believe….Xenophilius had been right, in a way…Limited, Narrow, Close-minded. The truth was that she was scared of the idea of the Deathly Hallows, especially of the Resurrection Stone…and Harry pressed his mouth again to the Snitch, kissing it, nearly swallowing it, but the cold medal did not yield…
It was nearly dawn when he remembered Luna, alone in a cell in Azkaban, surrounded by dementors, and he suddenly felt ashamed of himself. He had forgotten all about her in his feverish contemplation of the Hallows. If only they could rescue her, but dementors in those numbers would be virtually unassailable. Now he came to think about it, he had not tried casting a Patronus with the blackthorn wand…He must try that in the morning…
If only there was a way of getting a better wand…
And desire for the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, unbeatable, invincible, swallowed him once more…

They packed up the tent next morning and moved on through a dreary shower of rain. The downpour pursued them to the coast, where they pitched the tent that night, and persisted through the whole week, through sodden landscapes that Harry found bleak and depressing. He could think only of the Deathly Hallows. It was as though a flame had been lit inside him that nothing, not Hermione’s flat disbelief nor Ron’s persistent doubts, could extinguish. And yet the fiercer the longing for the Hallows burned inside him, the less joyful it made him. He blamed Ron and Hermione: Their determined indifference was as bad as the relentless rain for dampening his spirits, but neither could erode his certainty, which remained absolute. Harry’s belief in and longing for the Hallows consumed him so much that he felt isolated from the other two and their obsession with the Horcruxes.
“Obsession?” said Hermione in a low fierce voice, when Harry was careless enough to use the word one evening, after Hermione had told him off for his lack of interest in locating more Horcruxes. “We’re not the one with an obsession, Harry! We’re the ones trying to do what Dumbledore wanted us to do!”
But he was impervious to the veiled criticism. Dumbledore had left the sign of the Hallows for Hermione to decipher, and he had also, Harry remained convinced of it, left the Resurrection Stone hidden in the golden Snitch. Neither can live while the other survives…master of Death…Why didn’t Ron and Hermione understand?
“‘The last enemy shall be destroyed is death,’” Harry quoted calmly.
“I thought it was You-Know-Who we were supposed to be fighting?” Hermione retorted, and Harry gave up on her.
Even the mystery of the silver doe, which the other two insisted on discussing, seemed less important to Harry now, a vaguely interesting sideshow. The only other thing that mattered to him was that his scar had begun to prickle again, although he did all he could to hide this fact from the other two. He sought solitude whenever it happened, but was disappointed by what he saw. The visions he and Voldemort were sharing had changed in quality; they had become blurred, shifting as though they were moving in and out of focus. Harry was just able to make out the indistinct features of an object that looked like a skull, and something like a mountain that was more shadow than substance. Used to images sharp as reality, Harry was disconcerted by the change. He was worried that the connection between himself and Voldemort had been damaged, a connection that he both feared and, whatever he had told Hermione, prized. Somehow Harry connected these unsatisfying, vague images with the destruction of his wand, as if it was the blackthorn wand’s fault that he could no longer see into Voldemort’s mind as well as before.
As the weeks crept on, Harry could not help but notice, even through his new self-absorption, that Ron seemed to be taking charge. Perhaps because he was determined to make up for having walked out on them, perhaps because Harry’s descent into listlessness galvanized his dormant leadership qualities, Ron was the one now encouraging and exhorting the other two into action.
“Three Horcruxes left,” he kept saying. “We need a plan of action, come on! Where haven’t we looked? Let’s go through it again. The orphanage…”
Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, the Riddle House, Borgin and Burkes, Albania, every place that they knew Tom Riddle had ever lived or worked, visited or murdered, Ron and Hermione raked over them again, Harry joining in only to stop Hermione pestering him. He would have been happy to sit alone in silence, trying to read Voldemort’s thoughts, to find out more about the Elder Wand, but Ron insisted on journeying to ever more unlikely places simply, Harry was aware, to keep them moving.
“You never know,” was Ron’s constant refrain. “Upper Flagley is a Wizarding village, he might’ve wanted to live there. Let’s go and have a poke around.”
These frequent forays into Wizarding territory brought them within occasional sight of Snatchers.
“Some of them are supposed to be as bad as Death Eaters,” said Ron. “The lot that got me were a bit pathetic, but Bill recons some of them are really dangerous. They said on Potterwatch –”
“On what?” said Harry.
“Potterwatch, didn’t I tell you that’s what it was called? The program I keep trying to get on the radio, the only one that tells the truth about what’s going on! Nearly all of the programs are following You-Know-Who’s line, all except Potterwatch, I really want you to hear it, but it’s tricky tuning in…”
Ron spent evening after evening using his wand to beat out various rhythms on top of the wireless while the dials whirled. Occasionally they would catch snatches of advice on how to treat dragonpox, and once a few bars of “A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love.” While he taped, Ron continued to try to hit on the correct password, muttering strings of random words under his breath.
“They’re normally something to do with the Order,” he told them. “Bill had a real knack for guessing them. I’m bound to get one in the end…”
But not until March did luck favor Ron at last. Harry was sitting in the tent entrance, on guard duty, staring idly at a clump of grape hyacinths that had forced their way through the chilly ground, when Ron shouted excitedly from inside the tent. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it! Password was ‘Albus’! Get in here, Harry.”
Roused for the first time in days from his contemplation of the Deathly Hallows, Harry hurried back inside the tent to find Ron and Hermione kneeling on the floor beside the little radio. Hermione, who had been polishing the sword of Gryffindor just for something to do, was sitting open-mouthed, staring at the tiny speaker, from which a most familiar voice was issuing.
“…apologize for our temporary absence from the airwaves, which was due to a number of house calls in our area by those charming Death Eaters.”
“But that’s Lee Jordan!” said Hermione.
“I know!” beamed Ron. “Cool, eh?”
“…now found ourselves another secure location,” Lee was saying, “and I’m pleased to tell you that two of our regular contributors have joined me here this evening. Evening, boys!”
“Hi.”
“Evening, River.”
“‘River’ that’s Lee,” Ron explained. “They’ve all got code names, but you can usually tell –”
“Shh!” said Hermione.
“But before we hear from Royal and Romulus,” Lee went on, “let’s take a moment to report those deaths that the Wizarding Wireless Network News and Daily Prophet don’t think important enough to mention. It is with great regret that we inform our listeners of the murders of Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell.”
Harry felt a sick, swooping in his belly. He, Ron, and Hermione gazed at one another in horror.
“A goblin by the name of Gornuk was also killed. It is believed that Muggle-born Dean Thomas and a second goblin, both believed to have been traveling with Tonks, Cresswell, and Gornuk, may have escaped. If Dean is listening, or if anyone has any knowledge of his whereabouts, his parents and sisters are desperate for news.”
“Meanwhile, in Gaddley, a Muggle family of five has been found dead in their home. Muggle authorities are attributing their deaths to a gas leak, but members of the Order of the Phoenix inform me that it was the Killing Curse – more evidence, as if it were needed, of the fact that Muggle slaughter is becoming little more than a recreational sport under the new regime.”
“Finally, we regret to inform our listeners that the remains of Bathilda Bagshot have been discovered in Godric’s Hollow. The evidence is that she died several months ago. The Order of the Phoenix informs us that her body showed unmistakable signs of injuries inflicted by Dark Magic.”
“Listeners, I’d like to invite you now to join us in a minute’s silence in memory of Ted Tonks, Dirk Cresswell, Bathilda Bagshot, Gornuk, and the unnamed, but no less regretted, Muggles murdered by the Death Eaters.”
Silence fell, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione did not speak. Half of Harry yearned to hear more, half of him was afraid of what might come next. It was the first time he had felt fully connected to the outside world for a long time.
“Thank you,” said Lee’s voice. “And now we can return to regular contributor Royal, for an update on how the new Wizarding order is affecting the Muggle world.”
“Thanks, River,” said an unmistakable voice, deep, measured, reassuring.
“Kingsley!” burst out Ron.
“We know!” said Hermione, hushing him.
“Muggles remain ignorant of the source of their suffering as they continue to sustain heavy casualties,” said Kingsley. “However, we continue to hear truly inspirational stories of wizards and witches risking their own safety to protect Muggle friends and neighbors, often without the Muggles’ knowledge. I’d like to appeal to all our listeners to emulate their example, perhaps by casting a protective charm over any Muggle dwellings in your street. Many lives could be saved if such simple measures are taken.”
“And what would you say, Royal, to those listeners who reply that in these dangerous times, it should be ‘Wizards first’? asked Lee.”
“I’d say that it’s one short step from ‘Wizards first’ to ‘Purebloods first,’ and then to ‘Death Eaters,’” replied Kingsley. “We’re all human, aren’t we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving.”
“Excellently put, Royal, and you’ve got my vote for Minister of Magic if we ever get out of this mess,” said Lee. “And now, over to Romulus for our popular feature ‘Pals of Potter.’”
“Thanks, River,” said another very familiar voice. Ron started to speak, but Hermione forestalled him in a whisper.
“We know it’s Lupin!”
“Romulus, do you maintain, as you have every time you’ve appeared on our program, that Harry Potter is still alive?”
“I do,” said Lupin firmly. “There is no doubt at all in my mind that his death would be proclaimed as widely as possible by the Death Eaters if it had happened, because it would strike a deadly blow at the morale of those resisting the new regime. ‘The Boy Who Lived’ remains a symbol of everything for which we are fighting: the triumph of good, the power of innocence, the need to keep resisting.”
A mixture of gratitude and shame welled up in Harry. Had Lupin forgiven him, then, for the terrible things he had said when they had last met?
“And what would you say to Harry if you knew he was listening, Romulus?”
“I’d tell him we’re all with him in spirit,” said Lupin, then hesitated slightly, “And I’d tell him to follow his instincts, which are good and nearly always right.”
Harry looked at Hermione, whose eyes were full of tears.
“Nearly always right,” she repeated.
“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” said Ron in surprise. “Bill told me Lupin’s living with Tonks again! And apparently she’s getting pretty big too…”
“…and our usual update on those friends of Harry Potter’s who are suffering for their allegiance?” Lee was saying.
“Well, as regular listeners will know, several of the more outspoken supporters of Harry Potter have now been imprisoned, including Xenophilius Lovegood, erstwhile editor of The Quibbler,” said Lupin.
“At least he’s still alive!” muttered Ron.
“We have also heard within the last few hours that Rubeus Hagrid” – all three of them gasped, and so nearly missed the rest of the sentence – “well-known gamekeeper at Hogwarts School, has narrowly escaped arrest within the grounds of Hogwarts, where he is rumored to have hosted a ‘Support Harry Potter’ party in his house. However, Hagrid was not taken into custody, and is, we believe, on the run.”
“I suppose it helps, when escaping from Death Eaters, if you’ve got a sixteen-foot-high half brother?” asked Lee.
“It would tend to give you an edge,” agreed Lupin gravely. “May I just add that while we here at Potterwatch applaud Hagrid’s spirit, we would urge even the most devoted of Harry’s supporters against following Hagrid’s lead. ‘Support Harry Potter’ parties are unwise in the present climate.”
“Indeed they are, Romulus,” said Lee, “so we suggest that you continue to show your devotion to the man with the lightning scar by listening to Potterwatch! And now let’s move to news concerning the wizard who is proving just as elusive as Harry Potter. We like to refer to him as the Chief Death Eater, and here to give his views on some of the more insane rumors circulating about him, I’d like to introduce a new correspondent. Rodent?”
“‘Rodent’?” said yet another familiar voice, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione cried out together:
“Fred!”
“No – is it George?”
“It’s Fred, I think,” said Ron, leaning in closer, as whichever twin it was said, “I’m not being ‘Rodent,’ no way, I told you I wanted to be ‘Rapier’!”
“Oh, all right then, ‘Rapier,’ could you please give us your take on the various stories we’ve been hearing about the Chief Death Eater?”
“Yes, River, I can,” said Fred. “As our listeners will know, unless they’ve taken refuge at the bottom of a garden pond or somewhere similar, You-Know-Who’s strategy of remaining in the shadows is creating a nice little climate of panic. Mind you, if all the alleged sightings of him are genuine, we must have a good nineteen You-Know-Whos running around the place.”
“Which suits him, of course,” said Kingsley. “The air of mystery is creating more terror than actually showing himself.”
“Agreed,” said Fred. “So, people, let’s try and calm down a bit. Things are bad enough without inventing stuff as well. For instance, this new idea that You-Know-Who can kill people with a single glance from his eyes. That’s a basilisk, listeners. One simple test: Check whether the thing that’s glaring at you has got legs. If it has, it’s safe to look into its eyes, although if it really is You-Know-Who, that’s still likely to be the last thing you ever do.”
For the first time in weeks and weeks, Harry was laughing: He could feel the weight of tension leaving him.
“And the rumors that he keeps being sighted abroad?” asked Lee.
“Well, who wouldn’t want a nice little holiday after all the hard work he’s been putting in?” asked Fred. “Point is, people, don’t get lulled into a false sense of security, thinking he’s out of the country. Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t, but the fact remains he can move faster than Severus Snape confronted with shampoo when he wants to, so don’t count on him being a long way away if you’re planning to take any risks. I never thought I’d hear myself say it, but safety first!”
“Thank you very much for those wise words, Rapier,” said Lee. “Listeners, that brings us to the end of another Potterwatch. We don’t know when it will be possible to broadcast again, but you can be sure we shall be back. Keep twiddling those dials: The next password will be ‘Mad-Eye.’ Keep each other safe: Keep faith. Good night.”
The radio’s dial twirled and the lights behind the tuning panel went out. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still beaming. Hearing familiar, friendly voices was an extraordinary tonic; Harry had become so used to their isolation he had nearly forgotten that other people were resisting Voldemort. It was like waking from a long sleep.
“Good, eh?” said Ron happily.
“Brilliant,” said Harry.
“It’s so brave of them,” sighed Hermione admiringly. “If they were found …”
“Well, they keep on the move, don’t they?” said Ron. “Like us.”
“But did you hear what Fred said?” asked Harry excitedly; now the broadcast was over, his thoughts turned around toward his all consuming obsession. “He’s abroad! He’s still looking for the Wand, I knew it!”
“Harry – ”
“Come on, Hermione, why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol – ”
“HARRY, NO!”
“ – demort’s after the Elder Wand!”
“The name’s Taboo!” Ron bellowed, leaping to his feet as a loud crack sounded outside the tent. “I told you, Harry, I told you, we can’t say it anymore – we’ve got to put the protection back around us – quickly – it’s how they find – ”
But Ron stopped talking, and Harry knew why. The Sneakoscope on the table had lit up and begun to spin; they could hear voices coming nearer and nearer: rough, excited voices. Ron pulled the Deluminator out of his pocket and clicked it: Their lamps went out.
“Come out of there with your hands up!” came a rasping voice through the darkness. “We know you’re in there! You’ve got half a dozen wands pointing at you and we don’t care who we curse!”
哈利气喘嘘嘘地倒在草地上，又立刻爬了起来。他们看起来像是来到了一个被黄昏的薄雾笼罩的荒野；赫敏挥舞着魔杖绕着他们跑来跑去。
　　“统统石化……萨维尔埃希亚……”
　　“那个背信弃义的老骗子。”罗恩大口喘着气，从隐身斗篷下面钻了出来，把它扔给哈利。“赫敏，你是个天才，真是个天才。我都不敢相信我们居然能从那儿逃出来。”
　　“洞窟兽……我没告诉过他那是一只弯鼾角吗？现在倒好，他的房子都爆炸了！”
　　“活该！”罗恩一边说一边检查着他那已经破烂不堪的牛仔裤和腿上的伤口，“你觉得他们会怎么对待他？”
　　“哦，我希望他们不要杀了他！”赫敏低声说道，“所以我才想让食死徒在我们离开能看一眼哈利，这样他们就会知道谢农费里厄斯没有说谎。”
　　“那为什么把我藏起来？”罗恩问道。
　　“你不是应该正在和斯帕特格罗特一起躺在床上呢么，罗恩！他们绑架卢娜就是因为她爸爸支持哈利！想想如果他们知道了你跟他一伙，你的家人可能也会遭殃！”
　　“那你的父母呢？”
　　“他们在澳大利亚，”赫敏说，“他们应该没事，因为他们什么都不知道。”
　　“你真是个天才。”罗恩重复道，语气中充满了敬佩。
　　“哦，你绝对是个天才，赫敏。”哈利热情地附和着。“如果没有你，我真不知道该怎么办。”
　　她笑了一下，但是马上又严肃起来。
　　“不知道卢娜怎么样了。”
　　“如果他们说的是真的，卢娜还活着的话……”没等罗恩说完，赫敏就打断了他：
　　“别说了！别说了！她一定还活着，一定！”
　　“那我猜她现在应该在阿兹卡班。”罗恩说。“不管她能不能活着回来，虽然……希望不大……”
　　“她会的。”哈利说，她不能想象另外那种答案。“卢娜她很坚强，比你想象的要坚强得多。她大概正在和那些关在一起的人讲有关沃克波茨和纳格勒的故事。”
　　“但愿你是对的。”赫敏说，她抹了一下眼睛，“我觉得很对不起谢农费里厄斯，如果……”
　　“如果他没把我们出卖给食死徒，的确。”罗恩说。
　　他们搭好帐篷钻了进去，罗恩沏了点茶。经历了虎口脱险，这个又湿又冷又有点发霉的地方让他们觉得像是家一样，安全、熟悉又亲切。
　　“唉，当初我们为什么要到那儿去？”几分钟的沉默之后，赫敏叹息道。“哈利，你是对的，我们回到高维克山谷，简直就是浪费时间。什么死圣……全是废话……事实上，”停了一下，好像突然想到了什么，“可能根本就是他瞎编的，不是么？他可能根本就不相信什么死圣，不过是给赶来的食死徒们拖延点时间罢了。”
　　“我不这样想。”罗恩说，“在那么大的压力下很难编造出那么多东西，这是我在被掠夺者抓住的时候发现的。假装自己是斯坦和凭空编造一个人出来相比，要简单得多，因为我对他或多或少有一点了解。老洛夫古德在那么大的压力下，只是想办法把我们留住而已。所以我觉得他说的都是真话，至少他认为是真话。”
　　“好吧，但是我觉得这无关紧要。”赫敏叹了口气，“就算他没撒谎，我这辈子也从来没听到过那么多荒唐的事。”
　　“话是这么说，可密室不也曾一直被认为是个传说而已吗？”罗恩说。
　　“但是死圣是不可能存在的，罗恩！”
　　“你总是这么说，但是他们中至少有一个是存在的，”罗恩说，“哈利的隐身斗篷……”
　　“三兄弟的传说只不过是个故事罢了，”赫敏很坚定地说道，“一个关于人类惧怕死亡的故事。如果长生不老就是藏在隐身斗篷下面那么简单的话，我们早就得到我们需要的一切了！”
　　“我不知道，不过我们倒是很需要一根无敌的魔杖。”哈利一边说，一边在指间转动着令他生厌的黑李木魔杖。
　　“哈利，根本就没有那种东西！”
　　“你说过曾经有各种各样的魔杖——死亡之杖，或者不管叫什么名字……”
　　“好吧，就算你能骗自己说那个长老魔杖是真的，那苏醒石呢？”她用指头在那个名字上画了个引号，并且用挖苦的语调说道，“没有魔法能起死回生，那是肯定的。”
　　“当我的魔杖和神秘人的连在一起的时候，我的父母出现了……还有塞德里克……”
　　“但是他们并不是真的起死回生了，对吧？”赫敏说，“那只是……苍白的假象罢了，并不是他们真的活了过来。”
　　“但是，那个传说里的女孩，也不是真的活了过来，对吧？故事里说，一旦人死了，他们就和死亡同在了。但是兄弟里的老二却仍然能看到她并和她说话，不是吗？他甚至和她在一起生活了一段时间……”
　　他看到赫敏的表情中流露出了担心，还有另外一种说不出来的感觉，当她匆匆看了罗恩一眼，哈利才明白那种感觉是恐惧：他提到的和死人生活在一起让她害怕了。
　　“佩弗利尔那小子最后被埋在了高维克山谷。”他赶快说道，尽量让自己的声音听起来很有力量而正常，“你知道过有关他的事吗？”
　　“不知道。”她回答道，转换话题使她看起来很安心。“在我看到他墓碑上的徽章时我认出了他；如果他真的很有名或者很重要，那他一定会出现在我们的书里的。但我唯一能找到佩弗利尔这个字的地方是《生而高贵，巫师家谱》，是我从克利切那里借来的。”当她看到罗恩扬起了眉毛时，解释道：“这本书列出了男系血统已经消失了的纯血统的家族。显然佩弗利尔是最早消失的家庭之一。”
　　“男系血统已经消失？”罗恩重复道。
　　“意思是说这个姓氏已经没有人继承了，”赫敏说，“像佩弗利尔家族早在几个世纪以前就这样了。但他们还是可能有继承人的，只不过都已经姓其他的姓了。”
　　突然哈利的脑中出现了一个闪光的片段，他的记忆中好像曾经听到过“佩弗利尔”这个词：一个邋遢的老头在一位魔法部官员面前挥舞着一枚戒指。哈利叫了出来：“马沃罗·冈特！”
　　“什么？”罗恩和赫敏一起问道。
　　“马沃罗·冈特！神秘人的外祖父！在冥想盆中，和邓布利多一起！马沃罗·冈特说他是佩弗利尔家的继承人！”
　　罗恩和赫敏看起来一脸迷茫。
　　“戒指，那枚后来成为魂器的戒指，马沃罗·冈特说那上面有佩弗利尔的纹章！我看到他拿着那枚戒指在魔法部的人的脸前晃来晃去，几乎贴到了那人的鼻子上！”
　　“佩弗利尔的纹章？”赫敏敏锐地说“你看到它是什么样子的了吗？”
　　“不太记得了……”哈利努力地回忆着“就我看到的，好像没什么特别的地方；可能有一些划痕。我只见过它被打开后又合上的样子。”
　　从赫敏睁大眼睛的样子中，哈利看出了她的理解，罗恩看着他，又看看赫敏，露出十分惊讶的表情。
　　“啊呀，你又觉得它是死圣的标记了？”
　　“为什么不呢，”哈利兴奋的说，“马沃罗·冈特是一个无知的没用的老家伙，他象猪一样地生活，唯一在乎的就是他的血统。如果这个戒指是历经几个世纪流传下来的，他可能并不知道它究竟意味着什么。他的房子里没有书，相信我，他是不会给孩子们讲童话故事的。他一定会把宝石上的擦痕看成是盾形纹章，因为在他看来，纯净的血统可以让人变得更高贵。”
　　“好，这的确很有趣，”赫敏谨慎的说，“但是哈利，如果你听了我对你的猜测的想法……”
　　“为什么不信呢？”哈利说，完全不在意赫敏说的话，“那就是块石头，不是吗？”他看着罗恩想寻求支持，“如果那就是苏醒石呢？”
　　罗恩一下子开口了。
　　“哎呀——邓布利多把它毁了，那还能用吗？”
　　“能用？能用？罗恩，它从来没有有用过！世上不存在苏醒石！”
　　赫敏跳了起来，看起来很愤怒，“哈利，你打算把一切都安到那个关于死圣的故事里……”
　　“安进去？”他反驳道，“赫敏，是它们自己相吻合！我知道死圣的标记就在那块石头上！冈特说了它是从佩弗利尔那里继承来的！”
　　“一分钟前你告诉我们，你从没有清楚地看到石头上的标记！”
　　“你说那戒指现在在哪？”罗恩问哈利，“邓布利多在把它打开之后干了什么？”
　　但哈利的思绪早就跑到之后的事情上了，远远地甩掉了罗恩和赫敏……
　　那三件物品，或者说死圣，如果他们到了一个人手里，其所有者就可以操纵死亡，操纵……胜利者……征服者……最后一个要对付的敌人就是死亡……
　　随后他想到了自己，如果他是圣物的所有者，面对伏地魔，相比之下伏地魔的魂器简直就是不堪一击……只有一个人能活下来……这就是答案吗？用死圣来对抗魂器？到底有没有什么方法能确保他活下来？如果他掌握了死圣，他就安全了吗？
　　“哈利？”
　　他几乎没有听到赫敏在叫他：他已经拿出了自己的隐身斗篷，手指抚摸着它。这件斗篷像水一样柔顺，像空气一样轻盈。在他将近七年的魔法世界生涯中，没有一件东西比得上它。这件衣服的确象谢农费里厄斯描述的一样：能让使用者彻底隐形，而且它长存于世，不会被任何咒语损坏……
　　随后，他猛的喘了一口气，他想起来了……
　　“邓布利多在我父母死的那天晚上拿到了它！”
　　他的声音在颤抖，他能感到他的脸在发烧，但他并不在意。
　　“我母亲告诉小天狼星，是邓布利多借走了隐身衣！那就是原因！他想验证一下，因为他觉得那就是第三个圣物！伊格诺思·佩弗利尔被葬在多维克山谷，”哈利漫不经心地绕帐篷踱着步子，感觉真相在他脑子里渐渐清晰起来。“他是我的祖先，我是那第三个兄弟的后代！这样就有头绪了！”
　　他已经十分确信了，确信死圣的存在。能够得到它们，仅仅是这样的想法就足以给他受到保护的感觉，于是他很开心地转向了他的两个同伴。
　　“哈利！”赫敏又叫了他一声，但哈利正在忙着打开他脖子上挂着的小口袋。他的手抖的厉害。
　　“读一读。”他把母亲的信放到她手里，对她说，“读读看。虽然邓布利多借走了隐身斗篷，但是，赫敏，他这么做有什么原因吗？他并不需要隐身斗篷，他可以用一个强大的幻身咒来让自己隐身！”
　　有个什么东西掉到底上，滚到了椅子底下：是他把信从信封里拿出来的时候带出来的金色飞贼。他弯下腰把它捡了起来，一个偶然的发现使他又惊又喜。掩饰不住激动的心情，他叫出了声来。
　　“它在这儿！他给我留下了的戒指——在金色飞贼里！”
　　“你……你猜的？”
　　他不明白为什么罗恩看起来不明白。对哈利来说，所有的事情都那么明显、清晰。一切的一切都吻合……他的隐身衣是第三个圣物，当他打开金色飞贼时得到了第二个，现在他要做的就是找到第一个圣物，长老魔杖，然后……
　　但是，就象一个明亮的舞台突然拉下了大幕，他一切的快乐和希望都一下子破灭了。他独自站在黑暗之中，璀璨的光辉变得支离破碎。
　　“那就是他要找的。”
　　他语气的变化让罗恩和赫敏看上去更加害怕了。
　　“神秘人……在找长老魔杖。”
　　他转过身，背对着罗恩和赫敏惊讶与怀疑的脸。他知道，那就是事实。一切都说得通了，伏地魔并不是在找一支新魔杖，而是在找一支旧魔杖，非常旧的。哈利走向帐篷的入口，仰望夜空，思索着，完全忘记了罗恩和赫敏的存在……
　　伏地魔是在麻瓜的孤儿院长大的，在他小时候没人能给他讲《吟游诗人比德的传说》里的故事，他不可能比哈利知道的更多。几乎没有巫师相信死圣。 伏地魔怎么会知道这些？
　　哈利凝视着夜空……如果伏地魔知道关于死圣的事，那他肯定寻找过它们，曾不择手段地想要得到它们。三件物品的主人可以掌控死亡？如果他知道关于死圣的事情，他可能一开始就不需要魂器了。他曾经拿到了圣物，却把它做成了魂器，这是不是可以证明他并不知道关于那个最隐秘的古老的巫师的故事？
　　这说明，伏地魔虽然在寻找长老魔杖，但却并不完全了解它的威力，也不知道它是三个圣物之一……由于这根魔杖毫无疑问是死圣，而且最被人们所熟知……长老魔杖在悠久的魔法史上留下了带血的印迹。
　　哈利看着天空中的云，像烟雾一样地弥散着，滑过白色的月亮。哈利被自己的发现惊呆了。
　　他转身想回到了帐篷里，却惊讶地发现罗恩和赫敏仍然站在原地。赫敏还捏着莉莉的信，罗恩带着期盼的表情站在她身边。他们有没有意识到在刚才的几分钟里发生了些什么吗？
　　“怎么？”哈利说，想要把他们拉入自己刚刚发现的惊人事实中。“这样就可以解释所有这一切了。死圣确实存在，而且我已经有了一个……也许是两个……”
　　他拿起了金色飞贼。
　　“……神秘人在找第三个，但是他不完全了解……他只是觉得那个魔杖有些威力。”
　　“哈利”赫敏说，走到他身边把莉莉的信塞到他手里。“对不起，但是我觉得你的想法是错的，完全错误的。”
　　“可是，难道你没有看到吗？一切都吻合……”
　　“不，不是。”她说“事情并不吻合，哈利，你只不过是在胡思乱想。请……”赫敏好像开始了她的演说“请回答我：如果死圣真的存在，而且邓布利多知道他们存在，也知道如果他们的所有者能够控制死亡－－哈利，那为什么他不告诉你呢？为什么？”
　　他已经准备好了答案。
　　“但是你说过的，赫敏！一定要亲自动手找一找！这是一个任务！”
　　“我只不过是为了让你去洛夫古德那里而说的！”赫敏哭喊着解释,“我不是真的相信！”
　　哈利没有理会她。
　　“邓布利多通常都告诉我自己去找，他让我尝试用我自己的力量去找。看起来他自己也是这么做的。”
　　“哈利，这不是一个游戏，不是一场练习！这是真的，邓布利多留给了你清晰的指示：寻找并消灭魂器！那个记号没有任何意义，忘了什么死圣吧，我们不能转移目标……”
　　但是哈利几乎没听她在说什么。他把飞贼在两只手间扔来扔去，期待着它能从中间裂开，苏醒石显露出来，证明给赫敏看他是正确的，死圣确实存在。
　　她对罗恩呼吁道:“你也不相信死圣的存在，对吗？”
　　哈利抬起头来，罗恩犹豫不决。
　　“我不知道……我是说……很多事情都对上了，”罗恩笨拙地说“但是如果你从事情的整体看……”他深吸了一口气“我想我们恐怕应该去消灭魂器，哈利。那是邓布利多告诉我们的。也许，也许我们应该忘了圣物的事。”
　　“谢谢，罗恩。”赫敏说，“谢谢你支持我。”
　　然后她从哈利身边走过，走进帐篷坐了下来，用行动结束了谈话。
　　但是哈利晚上怎么也睡不着。关于死圣的想法一直缠绕着他，他的脑子一刻也休息不下来，一直想着那个念头：魔杖、石头、斗篷，如果他全都拥有……
　　我要打开这个密封的东西……但是这密封是怎么回事？为什么到现在他还得不到那石头？如果他得到了那石头，他就能问问邓布利多关于那些个人的问题……哈利在黑暗中对着飞贼低语，他用了各种方法，甚至蛇老腔，但是那金色的小球仍没有打开。
　　还有那个魔杖，长老魔杖，它又藏在哪里了？伏地魔现在在哪儿找呢？哈利希望他的伤疤能再次灼烧起来，告诉他伏地魔在想什么，因为这是第一次他和伏地魔在想着相同的事……当然赫敏不可能喜欢这个念头……但是那样她就会相信……谢农费里厄斯是对的，那有限的狭小的思维的链接。其实她只是害怕关于死圣的说法，尤其是那个苏醒石……哈利再一次把他的嘴对着飞贼，亲吻它，几乎把它吞下去，但那冰冷的金属没有丝毫妥协……
　　天就快亮了，这时哈利想到了卢娜，一个人孤零零的呆在阿兹卡班的一个小房间里，被摄魂怪包围着，他突然为自己感到羞耻。在他兴奋地想着关于死圣的事情时几乎完全忘了她。就算他们去营救她，但是有那么多摄魂怪几乎不可能成功。现在他开始考虑这些，他还不能用那个黑李木的魔杖变出一个守护神……他必须在今天早晨学会……但如果有什么方法能得到一个更好的魔杖……对于长老魔杖，对于所向披靡的死亡魔杖的渴望又一次吞噬了他……
　　第二天早上他们把帐篷收了起来，在一阵沉闷的暴雨中继续前进。直到他们赶到海岸暴雨一直在继续，那个晚上他们又支起了帐篷，并且在那儿呆了整整一个星期，虽然周围景色如画，哈利仍然感到阴冷压抑。他唯一能想的就是死圣。它像一个火苗一直在他体内燃烧着，无论是赫敏的不信任或者罗恩的犹豫不决都不能熄灭他。对圣物的渴望一直在他体内燃烧着，是唯一能让他感到高兴的东西。他责备罗恩和赫敏：他们的漠视像无情的雨一样让他沮丧，但是这并不能改变他的坚持，它们确实存在。哈利对于圣物的信仰和坚持使他和另外两个被魂器迷住的人产生了隔阂。
　　“迷住？”当哈利在一个晚上对赫敏指出他最近在寻找其他的魂器上不再关心的话表现出了足够的漠视后，赫敏用一种低沉的难以忍受的声音说：“我们没有迷上任何东西，哈利！我们只是在做邓布利多想让我们做的事情！”
　　但是他没有受到那些批评的任何影响。邓布利多在给赫敏的密文中留下了他对于圣物的暗示，并且，哈利仍然坚信，苏醒石就在留给他的飞贼里面。”一个必须死在另一个手上……控制死亡……”为什么罗恩和赫敏就不能理解呢？
　　“最后一个你要战胜的敌人就是死亡……”哈利平静的回答。
　　“我想我们要对付的对象好像是神秘人？”赫敏反击道，哈利放弃了劝说她的想法。
　　即使是他们谈论的那头银色的雌鹿，对哈利来说也不再那么重要了，好像是一个没意思的附属物。对他来说唯一要紧的事情就是他的伤疤又开始疼了，虽然他已经尽力在他们俩面前遮掩这件事情。每当疼起来时他都感到非常孤独，并且为他看到的景象感到失望。那些把他和伏地魔联系起来的影像变得没有以前好了：它们显得模糊不清、诡异多变。哈利只能认出来那好像是一个头骨的轮廓，还有好像一座山的影子一样的东西，更多的只是阴影而不是实物。对于那些影像，哈利感到不安，他很担心那联系着他和伏地魔之间的联系被破坏了，那条两方都很害怕的联系,尽管她和赫敏说他想要这种联系。
　　不知何故，哈利把那些不能令人满意的图像同他魔杖的损坏联系了起来，好像是他的黑李木魔杖的错，让他不能再像以前一样看到伏地魔在想什么了。
　　几周就这么过去了，哈利除了观察什么也做不了，包括新的让他关切的事情，罗恩看起来有些抱怨。也许是他决定退出他们，也许是因为哈利开始对别人的鼓励完全听不进去，罗恩鼓励其他两个人赶快行动。
　　“还剩三个魂器。”他不停地说“我们需要一个行动计划，来吧！哪儿我们还没有找过？让我们赶快去看看。那个孤儿院……”
　　对角巷、霍格沃茨、里德尔家、博金-博克黑魔法商店、阿尔巴尼亚，每个他们知道的汤姆里德尔曾经生活过或者工作过的、拜访过的或者杀过人的地方，罗恩和赫敏都数了个遍。哈利也加入了，为得是不让赫敏再劝说他。他宁愿一个人静静地坐着，去读伏地魔的思维，去发现更多的关于长老魔杖的事情，但是罗恩却坚持要去一些不太常见的地方，哈利意识到，他们必须继续下去。
　　“你不会知道，”这是罗恩的口头禅，“弗莱格林北部的地区有一个巫师村庄，他可能曾经想住在那里，让我们去那儿溜达溜达。”
　　巫师村庄的那些袭击是他们都变成了侵略者。
　　“他们中好多人和食死徒一样坏，”罗恩说。”我觉得有一些悲惨，但是比尔说他们当中一些确实很危险。他们说在波特兄弟会里……”
　　“在什么里？”哈利问。
　　“波特兄弟会，我没有告诉过你吗？那是一个我一直想听的广播节目，是唯一一个可以告诉我们目前的真实情况的节目！几乎所有的台都被伏地魔的人控制了，除了波特兄弟会，我真想你能听一听，但是信号很不好找……”
　　罗恩用了很多个的下午用自己的魔杖在无线电上敲出了各种各样的声音，上面的转盘不停的转动着，偶尔他们会收到关于如何照顾龙的频道，有一次传出了《一锅又热又坚定的爱》的几个小节，他边录音边继续努力尝试打出正确的密码，嘴里还不停地乱咕哝着什么。
　　“它们通常和凤凰社有关，”罗恩告诉他们，“比尔知道猜出它们的诀窍，我一定会猜出一个来……·”
　　但是直到三月运气才终于眷顾了罗恩，哈利坐在帐篷的入口处警戒，他懒洋洋地看着被丛生的葡萄树和风信子遮挡住的寒冷地面，这时帐篷里传出了罗恩兴奋的喊叫声。
　　“我找到了，我找到它了！密码是‘阿不思’，快过来，哈利！”
　　这么多天来哈利第一次从关于死圣的沉思被中唤醒，哈利飞快地冲进帐篷，看到罗恩和赫敏都跪在一个小收音机的旁边，赫敏看起来刚才还在磨那把格兰芬多宝剑来消磨时间，这会儿她张大嘴巴盯着地上的收音机，因为那收音机里正传出一个非常熟悉的声音。
　　“很抱歉我们暂停了广播，那是因为有几个迷人的食死徒来到了我们的地盘。”
　　“但那是李·乔丹！”赫敏说。
　　“我知道！”罗恩说，“很酷吧，恩？”
　　“现在我们转移到了一个安全的地方，”李说，“我很高兴地告诉大家，两个提供消息的朋友今天晚上也来到了我身边，晚上好！兄弟们！”
　　“你好。”
　　“下午好，江河。”
　　“‘江河’就是李，”罗恩解释说，“他们都有自己的代号，但你通常可以——”
　　“嘘！”赫敏说。
　　“但是在我们听罗伊尔和罗慕洛说之前，”李继续说，“让我们用一点时间报道一下那些巫师新闻网和预言家日报认为并不重要的死讯，我们非常遗憾的从听众那里获悉泰德·唐克斯和德克·克莱斯韦被谋杀了。”
　　哈利感到他的胃猛的沉了一下，他、罗恩还有赫敏都惊恐地盯着对方。
　　“一个叫格纳克的小精灵也被杀了，麻瓜出身的迪安·托马斯和另一个小精灵也有危险，和唐克斯和格纳克一起居住的克莱斯韦好像逃脱了，如果迪安正在听，或者有谁知道他的下落，请与我们联系，他的父母和姐妹们都在焦急地等待消息。”
　　“期间，在加德里，一个五人的麻瓜家庭所有成员都被发现死在家中，麻瓜界的权威人士认为他们死于煤气泄露，但凤凰社的人告诉我，他们是被死咒杀死的——很明显，在新的政权下，屠杀麻瓜似乎已经从娱乐变成了一种必需。”
　　“最后我们很遗憾地告诉听众们，巴希达·巴沙特的遗体在高锥克山谷被发现了，种种迹象表明他在几个月前就已经死了，凤凰社成员告诉我们从他遗体的印迹看来他无疑是死于黑魔法。
　　“听众们，我想邀请你们和我一起默哀一分钟，以纪念泰德 唐克斯、德克·克莱斯韦、巴希达·巴沙特、格纳克和那些不知道名字的死于食死徒手中的麻瓜们。”
　　周围安静下来了，哈利、罗恩和赫敏都没有说话，哈利一面希望听到更多，一面又又害怕听到下面的内容，这是他很久以来第一次这么真是地听到同外界的联系。
　　“谢谢”李的声音说，“现在我们可以回到特邀嘉宾罗伊尔这来了，来探讨一下魔法界的新秩序对麻瓜世界的影响的认识。”
　　“谢谢，江河”一个深沉的，可靠的，不容置疑的声音响起来了。
　　“金斯莱！”罗恩大叫到。
　　“我们听出来了！”赫敏说，示意他安静下来。
　　“麻瓜们仍然不知道他们的危险，他们继续承受着大量的伤亡，”金斯莱说，“但是，我们还是听到了一些令人振奋的消息，一些巫师和女巫不顾危险地去保护他们的麻瓜朋友和邻居，尽管麻瓜们并不知道，我在这里想呼吁听众们效仿他们的做法，也许就是为你所在街区的所有麻瓜的住所施一个保护咒，一个简单的行动将会拯救很多生命。”
　　“你会对那些人说什么？罗伊尔，那些在这种特殊时期主张‘巫师第一’的听众。”
　　“我只能说从‘巫师第一’到‘血统第一’只有一步之遥，而之后就是‘食死徒’”金斯莱回答说，“我们都是人类，不是吗？每个人类的生命都是宝贵的，都值得去挽救。”
　　“精彩的发言，罗伊尔，如果能度过这场灾难，我要投你一票去当魔法部长！”李说，“现在让我们听听罗慕洛为我们‘哈利在线’的发言。”
　　“谢谢你，江河，”另一个十分熟悉的声音响了起来，罗恩刚想说话，被赫敏低声地抢在了前面。
　　“我们也听出来了那是卢平！”
　　“罗慕洛，你始终向曾经多次到我们节目中来那样，坚持认为哈利波特还活着吗？”

　　“是的”卢平坚定地说，“我认为如果他死了，食死徒们一定会大肆宣扬，因为这个消息会对那些仍然坚持抵抗的团体造成很大打击。‘大难不死的男孩’对于我们每一个在战斗的人来说都是一个象征：象征着正义的一方获得胜利、清白者的力量和坚持不懈的抵抗。”

　　一种感激和羞耻混合的心情在哈利心中升起。卢平已经原谅了上次他们见面时说的那些可怕的话。

　　“如果你知道哈利在听的话，你有没有什么要对他说得，莱姆斯？”

　　“我要告诉他，我们在精神上都是和他在一起的，”卢平稍微犹豫了一下，“我还要告诉他跟着自己的直觉走，因为它非常好，并且几乎总是对的。”

　　哈利看了看赫敏，她的眼中噙满了泪水。

　　“几乎总是对的”她重复道。

　　“哦，我没有告诉你吗？”罗恩惊奇地说。”比尔告诉我说卢平又和唐克斯生活到一起了！显然她现在也变得很漂亮……”

　　“有没有我们那些哈利波特忠诚的朋友们的最新消息呢。”李说道。

　　“好，我们节目的忠实听众应该知道，越来越多坦言自己支持哈利波特的人被关押起来。包括谢农费里厄斯?洛夫古德，之前曾任《唱唱反调》的主编。”

　　“至少他还活着。”罗恩小声说。

　　“几个小时前，我们听到了关于鲁伯.海格的一些情况”——他们三个全都喘息得凑到一起，差点错过了接下来的话－－“霍格沃茨前猎场钥匙保管员，惊险地逃过了霍格沃茨附近的追捕，传言说，他在自己家里开了一个‘支持哈利波特’的聚会。不过海格没有被抓起来，而且我们相信，他仍在逃跑中。”

　　“我想在躲避食死徒的追踪时，有一个十六英尺高的弟弟应该是很有帮助的吧？”李回答。

　　“那就像给你一把利刃。”卢平严肃的同意道“也许我也同其他的波特兄弟会一样对海格的精神拍手称赞，但是我们必须对那些打算追随海格的人投反对票。‘支持哈利波特’的聚会在目前这种形势下显然是不合时宜的。

　　“确实是这样，莱姆斯。”李说“所以我们建议那些想继续支持那位头上有闪电形伤疤的人的人们，把你们的热情支持投入到继续收听波特兄弟会里来吧！接下来让我们转向一些有关那个和哈利波特一样神秘莫测的巫师的新闻，就是我们通常说的那个食死徒的头头，这里有一些关于他疯狂愚蠢的传言，我很高兴的请出意一位新的通讯记者，罗丹特？”

　　“‘罗丹特’？”当另一个熟悉的声音响起时，哈利、罗恩和赫敏同时叫了出来:

　　“弗雷德！”

　　“不——是乔治?”

　　“我想是弗雷德，”罗恩说，凑的很近的去听，双胞胎中的一个人说道，

　　“我不是当什么罗丹特，没门儿，我告诉过你我想被叫做‘莱皮尔’啊！”

　　“哦，好吧，那么‘莱皮尔’，你能不能告诉我们一些关于那个食死徒头头的的事情？”

　　“是的，江河，可以，”弗雷德说。”就像听众们都知道的那样，除非他们躲在花园水池的地下或者其他什么地方，神秘人那躲在黑暗处的策略是为了制造一点小小的恐怖气氛。提示，如果所有目击者的话都是真的，那我们现在应该有十九个神秘人在周围转悠。”

　　“对，他就是那种人。”金斯莱说“神秘兮兮地行动着比他本人出现更能制造恐怖气氛。”

　　“同意，”弗雷德说“所以，朋友们，让我们尽量平静下来吧。事情已经够糟了，别再添麻烦了。举个例子吧，那个关于只要看你一眼神秘人就会死掉的新谣言。那是蛇怪，听众朋友们。做个简单的测验，检查一下那个瞪着你的东西是不是有腿。如果他有的话，那么看他的眼睛是安全的，尽管如果他真的是神秘人，那也是你能在死前做的最后一件事了。”

　　这么久以来，哈利第一次大笑：他感觉到自己身上沉重的压力离他而去了。

　　“有人说在国外看到他了？”李问道。

　　“哦，谁不想在经过了那么艰苦的工作后到国外度过一个愉快的假期？”弗雷德说“朋友们，重点是，不能因为觉得他在国外就错误地觉得安全了。也许他是在国外，也许不是，但是事实是，只要他想，他移动的速度可要比西弗勒斯.斯内普对付起洗发香波来快得多，所以不要因为他离得远就去冒险。我竟然会说出这种话来！总之安全第一！”

　　“非常感谢你这些劝告，莱皮尔，”李说“听众朋友们，请期待我们下一期的波特兄弟会。我们不知道节目还能不能播出，但是你们可以确信我们会回来的。请转动刻度盘，下一次的密码是‘疯眼’，每个人都请注意安全，坚持信念。晚安。”

　　广播的刻度盘转动起来，面板背后的光也熄灭了。哈利、罗恩和赫敏依然很开心。再次听到那令人熟悉友爱的声音真是特别鼓舞人心－－哈利已经习惯了他们这种孤立的境地，以至于几乎忘了其他人还在对抗着伏地魔。那就好像是从沉睡苏醒一样。”

　　“不错，对吧？”罗恩高兴地说。

　　“太精彩了。”哈利说。

　　“他们是多么勇敢呀。”赫敏羡慕的叹息着“如果他们被发现了……”

　　“但是他们一直在转移，不是吗？”罗恩说“就像我们。”

　　“你没有听到弗雷德怎么说吗？”哈利兴奋的问，广播结束了，他的思维转向了那些他所有的迷惑的。“他在国外，他在寻找魔杖，我知道！”

　　“哈利……”

　　“哎呀赫敏，为什么你就这么坚决的不接受呢？伏……”

　　“哈利，别说了！”

　　“地魔在寻找长老魔杖！”

　　“不许说那个名字！”罗恩吼叫着，在帐篷外大声的跺着脚。”我告诉过你，哈利，我告诉过你，我们再也不许说那个，我们在周围设置些保护措施——快点——要是他们发现——”

　　但是罗恩住口了，哈利知道原因。桌子上的窥镜开始旋转着亮起来；他们能听到声音越来越近了：吵杂的，兴奋的声音。罗恩把熄灯器从口袋里拿出来并且打响了：他们的灯熄灭了。

　　“举起手从帐篷里出来！”一个刺耳的声音从黑暗中传过来。”我们知道你们在那儿！有半打的魔杖正指着你们，我们不管伤到的会是谁！”

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