 哈利·波特在霍格沃茨魔法学校经过三年的学习和磨炼，逐渐成长为一个出色的巫师。新学年开始前，哈利和好朋友罗恩，赫敏一起去观看精彩的魁地奇世界杯赛，无意间发现了消失十三年的黑魔标记。哈利的心头笼上了一团浓重的阴云，但三个少年依然拥有他们自己的伊甸园。然而，少男少女的心思是那样难以捉摸，三人之间的美好友情竟是那样一波三折，忽晴忽雨……哈利渴望与美丽的秋·张共同走进一个美丽的故事，但这个朦朦胧胧的憧憬却遭受了小小的失意。他要做一个普普通通的四年级魔法学生，可不幸的是，哈利注定永远都不可能平平常常——即使拿魔法界的标准来衡量。黑魔的阴影始终挥之不去，种种暗藏杀机的神秘事件将哈利一步步推向了伏地魔的魔爪。哈利渴望在百年不遇的三强争霸赛中战胜自我，完成三个惊险艰巨的魔法项目，谁知整个竞赛竟是一个天大的黑魔法阴谋。…… |
Chapter 37 The Beginning When he looked back, even a month later, Harry found he had only scattered memories of the next few days. It was as though he had been through too much to take in any more. The recollections he did have were very painful. The worst, perhaps, was the meeting with the Diggory's that took place the following morning. They did not blame him for what had happened; on the contrary, both thanked him for returning Cedric's body to them. Mr. Diggory sobbed through most of the interview. Mrs. Diggory's grief seemed to be beyond tears. “He suffered very little then,” she said, when Harry had told her how Cedric had died. “And after all, Amos…he died just when he'd won the tournament. He must have been happy.” When they got to their feet, she looked down at Harry and said, “You look after yourself, now.” Harry seized the sack of gold on the bedside table. “You take this,” he muttered to her. “It should've been Cedric's, he got there first, you take it -” But she backed away from him. “Oh no, it's yours, dear, I couldn't…you keep it.” * * * * * * Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower the following evening. From what Hermione and Ron told him, Dumbledore had spoken to the school that morning at breakfast. He had merely requested that they leave Harry alone, that nobody ask him questions or badger him to tell the story of what had happened in the maze. Most people, he noticed, were skirting him in the corridors, avoiding his eyes. Some whispered behind their hands as he passed. He guessed that many of them had believed Rita Skeeter's article about how disturbed and possibly dangerous he was. Perhaps they were formulating their own theories about how Cedric had died. He found he didn't care very much. He liked it best when he was with Ron and Hermione and they were talking about other things, or else letting him sit in silence while they played chess. He felt as though all three of them had reached an understanding they didn't need to put into words; that each was waiting for some sign, some word, of what was going on outside Hogwarts - and that it was useless to speculate about what might be coming until they knew anything for certain. The only time they touched upon the subject was when Ron told Harry about a meeting Mrs. Weasley had had with Dumbledore before going home. “She went to ask him if you could come straight to us this summer,” he said. “But he wants you to go back to the Dursleys, at least at first.” “Why?” said Harry. “She said Dumbledore's got his reasons,” said Ron, shaking his head darkly. “I suppose we've got to trust him, haven't we?” The only person apart from Ron and Hermione that Harry felt able to talk to was Hagrid. As there was no longer a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, they had those lessons free. They used the one on Thursday afternoon to go down and visit Hagrid in his cabin. It was a bright and sunny day; Fang bounded out of the open door as they approached, barking and wagging his tail madly. “Who's that?” called Hagrid, coming to the door. “Harry!” He strode out to meet them, pulled Harry into a one-armed hug, ruffled his hair, and said, “Good ter see yeh, mate. Good ter see yeh.” They saw two bucket-size cups and saucers on the wooden table in front of the fireplace when they entered Hagrid's cabin. “Bin havin’ a cuppa with Olympe,” Hagrid said. “She's jus’ left.” “Who?” said Ron curiously. “Madame Maxime, o’ course!” said Hagrid. “You two made up, have you?” said Ron. “Dunno what yeh're talkin’ about,” said Hagrid airily, fetching more cups from the dresser. When he had made tea and offered around a plate of doughy cookies, he leaned back in his chair and surveyed Harry closely through his beetle-black eyes. “You all righ'?” he said gruffly “Yeah,” said Harry. “No, yeh're not,” said Hagrid. “Course yeh're not. But yeh will be.” Harry said nothing. “Knew he was goin’ ter come back,” said Hagrid, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up at him, shocked. “Known it fer years. Harry. Knew he was out there, bidin’ his time. It had ter happen. Well, now it has, an’ we'll jus’ have ter get on with it. We'll fight. Migh’ be able ter stop him before he gets a good hold. That's Dumbledores plan, anyway. Great man, Dumbledore. ‘S long as we've got him, I'm not too worried.” Hagrid raised his bushy eyebrows at the disbelieving expressions on their faces. “No good sittin’ worryin’ abou’ it,” he said. “What's comin’ will come, an we'll meet it when it does. Dumbledore told me wha’ you did. Harry.” Hagrid's chest swelled as he looked at Harry. “Yeh did as much as yer father would've done, an’ I can’ give yeh no higher praise than that.” Harry smiled back at him. It was the first time he'd smiled in days. “What's Dumbledore asked you to do, Hagrid?” he asked. “He sent Professor McGonagall to ask you and Madame Maxime to meet him - that night.” “Got a little job fer me over the summer,” said Hagrid. “Secret, though. I'm not s'pposed ter talk abou’ it, no, not even ter you lot. Olympe - Madame Maxime ter you - might be comin’ with me. I think she will. Think I got her persuaded.” “Is it to do with Voldemort?” Hagrid flinched at the sound of the name. “Migh’ be,” he said evasively. “Now…who'd like ter come an’ visit the las’ skrewt with me? I was jokin’ - jokin'!” he added hastily, seeing the looks on their faces. * * * * * * It was with a heavy heart that Harry packed his trunk up in the dormitory on the night before his return to Privet Drive. He was dreading the Leaving Feast, which was usually a cause for celebration, when the winner of the Inter-House Championship would be announced. He had avoided being in the Great Hall when it was full ever since he had left the hospital wing, preferring to eat when it was nearly empty to avoid the stares of his fellow students. When he, Ron, and Hermione entered the Hall, they saw at once that the usual decorations were missing. The Great Hall was normally decorated with the winning House's colors for the Leaving Feast. Tonight, however, there were black drapes on the wall behind the teachers’ table. Harry knew instantly that they were there as a mark of respect to Cedric. The real Mad-Eye Moody was at the staff table now, his wooden leg and his magical eye back in place. He was extremely twitchy, jumping every time someone spoke to him. Harry couldn't blame him; Moody's fear of attack was bound to have been increased by his ten-month imprisonment in his own trunk. Professor Karkaroff's chair was empty. Harry wondered, as he sat down with the other Gryffindors, where Karkaroff was now, and whether Voldemort had caught up with him. Madame Maxime was still there. She was sitting next to Hagrid. They were talking quietly together. Further along the table, sitting next to Professor McGonagall, was Snape. His eyes lingered on Harry for a moment as Harry looked at him. His expression was difficult to read. He looked as sour and unpleasant as ever. Harry continued to watch him, long after Snape had looked away. What was it that Snape had done on Dumbledores orders, the night that Voldemort had returned? And why…why…was Dumbledore so convinced that Snape was truly on their side? He had been their spy, Dumbledore had said so in the Pensieve. Snape had turned spy against Voldemort, “at great personal risk.” Was that the job he had taken up again? Had he made contact with the Death Eaters, perhaps? Pretended that he had never really gone over to Dumbledore, that he had been, like Voldemort himself, biding his time? Harry's musings were ended by Professor Dumbledore, who stood up at the staff table. The Great Hall, which in any case had been less noisy than it usually was at the Leaving Feast, became very quiet. “The end,” said Dumbledore, looking around at them all, “of another year.” He paused, and his eyes fell upon the Hufflepuff table. Theirs had been the most subdued table before he had gotten to his feet, and theirs were still the saddest and palest faces in the Hall. “There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight,” said Dumbledore, “but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here,” he gestured toward the Hufflepuffs, “enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory.” They did it, all of them; the benches scraped as everyone in the Hall stood, and raised their goblets, and echoed, in one loud, low, rumbling voice, “Cedric Diggory.” Harry caught a glimpse of Cho through the crowd. There were tears pouring silently down her face. He looked down at the table as they all sat down again. “Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house,” Dumbledore continued. “He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about.” Harry raised his head and stared at Dumbledore. “Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort.” A panicked whisper swept the Great Hall. People were staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, in horror. He looked perfectly calm as he watched them mutter themselves into silence. “The Ministry of Magic,” Dumbledore continued, “does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so - either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory.” Stunned and frightened, every face in the Hall was turned toward Dumbledore now…or almost every face. Over at the Slytherin table. Harry saw Draco Malfoy muttering something to Crabbe and Goyle. Harry felt a hot, sick swoop of anger in his stomach. He forced himself to look back at Dumbledore. “There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death,” Dumbledore went on. “I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter.” A kind of ripple crossed the Great Hall as a few heads turned in Harry's direction before flicking back to face Dumbledore. “Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort,” said Dumbledore. “He risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him.” Dumbledore turned gravely to Harry and raised his goblet once more. Nearly everyone in the Great Hall followed suit. They murmured his name, as they had murmured Cedric's, and drank to him. But through a gap in the standing figures. Harry saw that Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and many of the other Slytherins had remained defiantly in their seats, their goblets untouched. Dumbledore, who after all possessed no magical eye, did not see them. When everyone had once again resumed their seats, Dumbledore continued, “The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened - of Lord Voldemort's return - such ties are more important than ever before.” Dumbledore looked from Madame Maxime and Hagrid, to Fleur Delacour and her fellow Beauxbatons students, to Viktor Krum and the Durmstrangs at the Slytherin table. Krum, Harry saw, looked wary, almost frightened, as though he expected Dumbledore to say something harsh. “Every guest in this Hall,” said Dumbledore, and his eyes lingered upon the Durmstrang students, “will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again - in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open. “It is my belief- and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken - that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst. “Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory.” * * * * * * Harry's trunk was packed; Hedwig was back in her cage on top of it. He, Ron, and Hermione were waiting in the crowded entrance hall with the rest of the fourth years for the carriages that would take them back to Hogsmeade station. It was another beautiful summer's day. He supposed that Privet Drive would be hot and leafy, its flower beds a riot of color, when he arrived there that evening. The thought gave him no pleasure at all. “'Arry!” He looked around. Fleur Delacour was hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. Beyond her, far across the grounds. Harry could see Hagrid helping Madame Maxime to back two of the giant horses into their harness. The Beauxbatons carriage was about to take off. “We will see each uzzer again, I ‘ope,” said Fleur as she reached him, holding out her hand. “I am ‘oping to get a job ‘ere, to improve my Eenglish.” “It's very good already,” said Ron in a strangled sort of voice. Fleur smiled at him; Hermione scowled. “Good-bye, ‘Arry,” said Fleur, turning to go. “It ‘az been a pleasure meeting you!” Harry's spirits couldn't help but lift slightly as he watched Fleur hurry back across the lawns to Madame Maxime, her silvery hair rippling in the sunlight. Wonder how the Durmstrang students are getting back,” said Ron. “D’ you reckon they can steer that ship without Karkaroff?” “Karkaroff did not steer,” said a gruff voice. “He stayed in his cabin and let us do the vork.” Krum had come to say good-bye to Hermione. “Could I have a vord?” he asked her. “Oh…yes…all right,” said Hermione, looking slightly flustered, and following Krum through the crowd and out of sight. “You'd better hurry up!” Ron called loudly after her. “The carriages'll be here in a minute!” He let Harry keep a watch for the carriages, however, and spent the next few minutes craning his neck over the crowd to try and see what Krum and Hermione might be up to. They returned quite soon. Ron stared at Hermione, but her face was quite impassive. “I liked Diggory,” said Krum abruptly to Harry. “He vos alvays polite to me. Alvays. Even though I vos from Durmstrang - with Karkaroff,” he added, scowling. “Have you got a new headmaster yet?” said Harry Krum shrugged. He held out his hand as Fleur had done, shook Harry's hand, and then Ron's. Ron looked as though he was suffering some sort of painful internal struggle. Krum had already started walking away when Ron burst out, “Can I have your autograph?” Hermione turned away, smiling at the horseless carriages that were now trundling toward them up the drive, as Krum, looking surprised but gratified, signed a fragment of parchment for Ron. * * * * * * The weather could not have been more different on the journey back to King's Cross than it had been on their way to Hogwarts the previous September. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had managed to get a compartment to themselves. Pigwidgeon was once again hidden under Ron's dress robes to stop him from hooting continually; Hedwig was dozing, her head under her wing, and Crookshanks was curled up in a spare seat like a large, furry ginger cushion. Harry, Ron, and Hermione talked more fully and freely than they had all week as the train sped them southward. Harry felt as though Dumbledore's speech at the Leaving Feast had unblocked him, somehow. It was less painful to discuss what had happened now. They broke off their conversation about what action Dumbledore might be taking, even now, to stop Voldemort only when the lunch trolley arrived. When Hermione returned from the trolley and put her money back into her schoolbag, she dislodged a copy of the Daily Prophet that she had been carrying in there. Harry looked at it, unsure whether he really wanted to know what it might say, but Hermione, seeing him looking at it, said calmly, “There's nothing in there. You can look for yourself, but there's nothing at all. I've been checking every day. Just a small piece the day after the third task saying you won the tournament. They didn't even mention Cedric. Nothing about any of it. If you ask me. Fudge is forcing them to keep quiet.” “He'll never keep Rita quiet,” said Harry. “Not on a story like this.” “Oh, Rita hasn't written anything at all since the third task,” said Hermione in an oddly constrained voice. “As a matter of fact,” she added, her voice now trembling slightly, “Rita Skeeter isn't going to be writing anything at all for a while. Not unless she wants me to spill the beans on her.” “What are you talking about?” said Ron. “I found out how she was listening in on private conversations when she wasn't supposed to be coming onto the grounds,” said Hermione in a rush. Harry had the impression that Hermione had been dying to tell them this for days, but that she had restrained herself in light of everything else that had happened. “How was she doing it?” said Harry at once. “How did you find out?” said Ron, staring at her. “Well, it was you, really, who gave me the idea. Harry,” she said. “Did I?” said Harry, perplexed. “How?” “Bugging,” said Hermione happily. “But you said they didn't work -” “Oh not electronic bugs,” said Hermione. “No, you see…Rita Skeeter” - Hermione's voice trembled with quiet triumph - “is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn -” Hermione pulled a small sealed glass jar out other bag. “- into a beetle.” “You're kidding,” said Ron. “You haven't…she's not…” “Oh yes she is,” said Hermione happily, brandishing the jar at them. Inside were a few twigs and leaves and one large, fat beetle. “That's never - you're kidding -” Ron whispered, lifting the jar to his eyes. “No, I'm not,” said Hermione, beaming. “I caught her on the windowsill in the hospital wing. Look very closely, and you'll notice the markings around her antennae are exactly like those foul glasses she wears.” Harry looked and saw that she was quite right. He also remembered something. “There was a beetle on the statue the night we heard Hagrid telling Madame Maxime about his mum!” “Exactly,” said Hermione. “And Viktor pulled a beetle out of my hair after we'd had our conversation by the lake. And unless I'm very much mistaken, Rita was perched on the windowsill of the Divination class the day your scar hurt. She's been buzzing around for stories all year.” “When we saw Malfoy under that tree…” said Ron slowly. “He was talking to her, in his hand,” said Hermione. “He knew, of course. That's how she's been getting all those nice little interviews with the Slytherins. They wouldn't care that she was doing something illegal, as long as they were giving her horrible stuff about us and Hagrid.” Hermione took the glass jar back from Ron and smiled at the beetle, which buzzed angrily against the glass. “I've told her I'll let her out when we get back to London,” said Hermione. “I've put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can't transform. And I've told her she's to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can't break the habit of writing horrible lies about people.” Smiling serenely, Hermione placed the beetle back inside her schoolbag. The door of the compartment slid open. “Very clever. Granger,” said Draco Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were standing behind him. All three of them looked more pleased with themselves, more arrogant and more menacing, than Harry had ever seen them. “So,” said Malfoy slowly, advancing slightly into the compartment and looking slowly around at them, a smirk quivering on his lips. “You caught some pathetic reporter, and Potter's Dumbledore's favorite boy again. Big deal.” His smirk widened. Crabbe and Goyle leered. “Trying not to think about it, are we?” said Malfoy softly, looking around at all three of them. “Trying to pretend it hasn't happened?” “Get out,” said Harry. He had not been this close to Malfoy since he had watched him muttering to Crabbe and Goyle during Dumbledores speech about Cedric. He could feel a kind of ringing in his ears. His hand gripped his wand under his robes. “You've picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this!” He jerked his head at Ron and Hermione. “Too late now. Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well - second - Diggory was the f-” It was as though someone had exploded a box of fireworks within the compartment. Blinded by the blaze of the spells that had blasted from every direction, deafened by a series of bangs, Harry blinked and looked down at the floor. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all lying unconscious in the doorway. He, Ron, and Hermione were on their feet, all three of them having used a different hex. Nor were they the only ones to have done so. “Thought we'd see what those three were up to,” said Fred matter-of-factly, stepping onto Goyle and into the compartment. He had his wand out, and so did George, who was careful to tread on Malfoy as he followed Fred inside. “Interesting effect,” said George, looking down at Crabbe. “Who used the Furnunculus Curse?” “Me,” said Harry. “Odd,” said George lightly. “I used Jelly-Legs. Looks as though those two shouldn't be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face. Well, let's not leave them here, they don't add much to the decor.” Ron, Harry, and George kicked, rolled, and pushed the unconscious Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle - each of whom looked distinctly the worse for the jumble of jinxes with which they had been hit - out into the corridor, then came back into the compartment and rolled the door shut. “Exploding Snap, anyone?” said Fred, pulling out a pack of cards. They were halfway through their fifth game when Harry decided to ask them. “You going to tell us, then?” he said to George. “Who you were blackmailing?” “Oh,” said George darkly. “That.” “It doesn't matter,” said Fred, shaking his head impatiently. “It wasn't anything important. Not now, anyway.” “We've given up,” said George, shrugging. But Harry, Ron, and Hermione kept on asking, and finally, Fred said, “All right, all right, if you really want to know…it was Ludo Bagman.” “Bagman?” said Harry sharply. “Are you saying he was involved in -” “Nah,” said George gloomily. “Nothing like that. Stupid git. He wouldn't have the brains.” “Well, what, then?” said Ron. Fred hesitated, then said, “You remember that bet we had with him at the Quidditch World Cup? About how Ireland would win, but Krum would get the Snitch?” “Yeah,” said Harry and Ron slowly. “Well, the git paid us in leprechaun gold he'd caught from the Irish mascots.” “So?” “So,” said Fred impatiently, “it vanished, didn't it? By next morning, it had gone!” “But - it must've been an accident, mustn't it?” said Hermione. George laughed very bitterly. “Yeah, that's what we thought, at first. We thought if we just wrote to him, and told him he'd made a mistake, he'd cough up. But nothing doing. Ignored our letter. We kept trying to talk to him about it at Hogwarts, but he was always making some excuse to get away from us.” “In the end, he turned pretty nasty,” said Fred. “Told us we were too young to gamble, and he wasn't giving us anything.” “So we asked for our money back,” said George glowering. “He didn't refuse!” gasped Hermione. “Right in one,” said Fred. “But that was all your savings!” said Ron. “Tell me about it,” said George. “'Course, we found out what was going on in the end. Lee Jordan's dad had had a bit of trouble getting money off Bagman as well. Turns out he's in big trouble with the goblins. Borrowed loads of gold off them. A gang of them cornered him in the woods after the World Cup and took all the gold he had, and it still wasn't enough to cover all his debts. They followed him all the way to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. He's lost everything gambling. Hasn't got two Galleons to rub together. And you know how the idiot tried to pay the goblins back?” “How?” said Harry. “He put a bet on you, mate,” said Fred. “Put a big bet on you to win the tournament. Bet against the goblins.” “So that's why he kept trying to help me win!” said Harry. “Well - I did win, didn't I? So he can pay you your gold!” “Nope,” said George, shaking his head. “The goblins play as dirty as him. They say you drew with Diggory, and Bagman was betting you'd win outright. So Bagman had to run for it. He did run for it right after the third task.” George sighed deeply and started dealing out the cards again. The rest of the journey passed pleasantly enough; Harry wished it could have gone on all summer, in fact, and that he would never arrive at King's Cross…but as he had learned the hard way that year, time will not slow down when something unpleasant lies ahead, and all too soon, the Hogwarts Express was pulling in at platform nine and three-quarters. The usual confusion and noise filled the corridors as the students began to disembark. Ron and Hermione struggled out past Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, carrying their trunks. Harry, however, stayed put. “Fred - George - wait a moment.” The twins turned. Harry pulled open his trunk and drew out his Triwizard winnings. “Take it,” he said, and he thrust the sack into George's hands. “What?” said Fred, looking flabbergasted. “Take it,” Harry repeated firmly. “I don't want it.” “You're mental,” said George, trying to push it back at Harry. “No, I'm not,” said Harry. “You take it, and get inventing. It's for the joke shop.” “He is mental,” Fred said in an almost awed voice. “Listen,” said Harry firmly. “If you don't take it, I'm throwing it down the drain. I don't want it and I don't need it. But I could do with a few laughs. We could all do with a few laughs. I've got a feeling we're going to need them more than usual before long.” “Harry,” said George weakly, weighing the money bag in his hands, “there's got to be a thousand Galleons in here.” “Yeah,” said Harry, grinning. “Think how many Canary Creams that is.” The twins stared at him. “Just don't tell your mum where you got it…although she might not be so keen for you to join the Ministry anymore, come to think of it.…” “Harry,” Fred began, but Harry pulled out his wand. “Look,” he said flatly, “take it, or I'll hex you. I know some good ones now. Just do me one favor, okay? Buy Ron some different dress robes and say they're from you.” He left the compartment before they could say another word, stepping over Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were still lying on the floor, covered in hex marks. Uncle Vernon was waiting beyond the barrier. Mrs. Weasley was close by him. She hugged Harry very tightly when she saw him and whispered in his ear, “I think Dumbledore will let you come to us later in the summer. Keep in touch, Harry.” “See you. Harry,” said Ron, clapping him on the back. “'Bye, Harry!” said Hermione, and she did something she had never done before, and kissed him on the cheek. “Harry - thanks,” George muttered, while Fred nodded fervently at his side. Harry winked at them, turned to Uncle Vernon, and followed him silently from the station. There was no point worrying yet, he told himself, as he got into the back of the Dursleys’ car. As Hagrid had said, what would come, would come…and he would have to meet it when it did. 甚至一个月后回首时，哈利都发现他对连接下来几天发生的事都所知无几。似乎他经历了太多而记不下来了，他想拥有的记忆却是让人痛苦的，其中最坏的，可能是第二天早晨与迪格瑞夫妇的见面了。 他们没有为发生的事责备他，相反，他们还感谢他把塞德里克的尸体带回给他们。迪格瑞夫妇在大部分会面时间里都是抽泣着。 “那他受了很少苦头，”当哈利告诉她塞德里克怎样死的时候，她说道，“毕竟，他是在赢了比赛时死的。他肯定很开心。” 当他们站起身时，她看着哈利说：“现在，你要照顾你自己了。” 哈利抓起床头柜上的那袋金子。 “你拿着这个。”他喃喃说道，“应该是塞德里克的，他先到那儿的。你拿着——” 但她退回了给他。“不，不，这是你的，亲爱的，我们不能……你留着吧。” 第二天晚上哈利回到格林芬顿塔，从荷米恩和罗恩告诉他的看来，丹伯多已在那天早上吃早餐时跟学校说过了。他仅仅要求他们让哈利一人呆着，别人不要问他问题或让他讲述迷宫里发生的故事来烦扰他。他注意到，大多数人都在走廊里沿着他走过的路走，回避着他的眼睛。有些人在他经过时，窃窃私语。他猜想很多人都相信理特。史姬特文章说的他是如何的烦人和危险。可能他们对塞德里克的死形成了自己的看法。但他发觉自己并不在乎。当他同罗恩和荷米恩在一起时，他感觉最好。他们或者谈论其他事情，或者两人下像棋，让他静静地坐着。哈利他们三个好像形成了一种用言语的默契：每个人都在等待某种形像，某些话语，或者霍格瓦彻以外发生的事——要推测将来是没有用的，除非他们确切知道。他们提及那话题的唯—一次是当罗恩告诉威斯里夫人和丹伯多在回家前的一次会面。 “她去问丹伯多今年夏天你是否可以直接来我们这，”他说，“但他想让你至少要先回杜斯利里家。” “为什么？”哈利问。 “她说丹伯多有他的理由，”罗恩摇摇头表示不知道，“我想我们要相信他，对不对？” 除了罗恩和荷米恩以外，哈利可以与之交谈的唯—一人是哈格力。因为再没有了反黑巫术课老师，他们就可以不用上那些课了。 在星期三下午的那节课上，他们去他小屋里拜访他。那天阳光明媚，他们来的时候弗兰跳到门前，汪汪直叫，拼命摇摆着尾巴。 “是谁呀？”哈格力叫着来到门前，“哈利！” 他大步走出来迎接他，一手拥抱了哈利。他搅了搅哈利的头发，说道：“看见你很高兴，小伙子，看到你真高兴！” 当他们走进小屋时，他们看到两个水桶大小的杯子和茶托在壁炉旁的一张木桌子上。 “刚刚正和欧林普喝茶呢，”哈格力说，“她刚走了。” “谁？”罗恩好奇地问道。 “当然是玛西姆夫人了。”哈格力说。 “你们俩和好了，是不是？”罗恩问。 “就像你说的！”哈格力快活地说。他又从食具柜里拿了更多的杯子出来。他沏好了茶。摆好一碟软的饼干，然后就靠在椅子上，黑黑的眼睛近近地望着哈利。 “你好吗？”他粗声说道。 “嗯！”哈利说。 “不，”哈格力说，“你肯定过得不好，但会好起来的！” 哈利什么也没说。 “我知道他将要回来了。”哈格力说。哈利，罗恩和荷米恩震动了一下，都抬头看着他。“哈利，知道几年了，知道他在外面。等候良机，总得发生的，好了，现在已经发生了，我们都要得习惯，我们得斗争。在他掌握大局之前，我们可能可以阻止他。那是丹伯多的计划。丹伯多他是伟大的人。只要我们有他，我就放心了。” 哈格力扬起浓密的眉毛，看着他们怀疑的神情。 “坐着担心是没用的。”他说，“要来的终究会来，我们总会碰到的。哈利，丹伯多告诉了我你的事。” 他看着哈利说：“你干得跟你父亲一样棒，我只能给你这些作为最高的赞扬。” 哈利朝他笑了笑。这是几天来他第一次笑。 “丹伯多叫你干什么了吗？哈格力？”他问道，“那晚，他叫麦康娜教授来叫你，让玛西姆夫人去见他。” “给我分了点夏天的工作，”哈格力说，“不过这是秘密。我不能说，不仅仅对你们。欧林普。玛西姆夫人看——可能会跟我在一起工作。我想她会的，我会说服她的。” “与福尔得摩特有关吗？” 听到这名字，哈格力畏缩了。 “可能吧，”他回避说，“谁愿意同我一起去参观最后的塞克妮特？开玩笑的——只是开玩笑！”他看着众人的神色，匆忙地说。 在他回去普里怀特街的前一晚，哈利心情沉重地在宿舍里收拾皮箱。他害怕告别会，这通常都是庆祝的一个理由，那时会宣布比赛的胜利者。自从他从病房出来后，他就回避去人山人海的大厅。 他情愿等到人都走光了才去吃点东西，来回避同学们的观望。 当他、罗恩和荷米恩进入大厅时，立刻发现往常的装饰都不见了。通常大厅会为告别会点缀上胜利的颜色。但是，今晚，老师讲台后的墙上却是黑色的装饰。哈利立刻明白这是对塞德里克表示的致敬。 真正的莫迪在工作人员台上，身上安装着木腿和假眼。他抽搐得很厉害，别人一跟他讲话他就跳起来。哈利不能责备他。在衣箱里被困了十个月以后，他那种害怕攻击的感觉肯定又加强了。 卡克罗夫教授的椅子是空的。哈利坐在另一个格林芬顿桌旁边，在越过卡克罗夫的位子时，心里寻思道，福尔得摩特追上他了吗。 马西姆夫人还在那儿，她坐在哈格力旁边。他们静静地交谈着。沿着桌子，坐在麦康娜教授旁的是史纳皮，哈利看他时，他也看着哈利。他的表情令人费解，他仍像以往一样乖戾和郁闷。在史纳皮移开了目光以后，哈利仍在看他。 在福尔得摩特回来的那晚，史纳皮按丹伯多指令究竟干了什么？为什么……为什么丹伯多那么坚信史纳皮是真正站在我们这边的。丹伯多曾在皮斯文说过，他是他们的间谍，史纳皮又冒着巨大的个人危险当了福尔得摩特的奸细。那是他再次从事的吗？可能他又联络了食尸者？也许他从没有真正归顺丹伯多，他只不过是和福尔得摩特一样在等待良机？ 哈利的沉思被从工作组台上站起来的丹伯多教授打断了。大厅变得不像是往常的告别会，异常的安静。 丹伯多环视四周，说道：“这是又一个结束。” 他停住了，目光落在海夫巴夫台上。在他站起来之前，那是最沉默的。他们也是全厅最悲伤，脸色最苍白的。 “今晚我有很多话想对你们说，”丹伯多说道，“但首先我要承认我们失去了一个很好的人。他本应坐在这里。”他手指着海夫巴夫台，“和我们一起享受宴会。我希望所有人起立，为塞德里克。迪格瑞举杯。” 大家都这样做了。厅里的人站起来时，板凳嚓嚓作响。他们举起了高脚酒杯。一个低沉的隆隆的巨大的声音回响道：“塞德里克。 迪格瑞。“ 哈利穿过人群瞥了卓一眼。泪水静静地从她的脸上滑下，他们再坐下来时，他面看着卓低头。 “塞德里克是海夫巴夫学院优秀传统的例证，”丹伯多继续说，“他是个忠诚的好朋友，辛勤的工作者。他重视公平竞争。不管你们是否了解他，他的死对你们都有影响。因此，我认为你们都有权知道事情的真相。” 哈利抬起头，盯着丹伯多。 “塞德里克。迪格瑞是被福尔得摩特杀害的。” 一阵惊恐的私语扫过了整个大厅，人们怀疑而又惊恐地看着丹伯多。当他看着他们嗡嗡议论转而一片寂静时，他始终面容镇静。 “魔法部不想让我告诉你们，”丹伯多继续说，“如果我说了的话，有些家长很可能会吓坏——他们或者会不相信福尔得摩特回来了，或者认为我不应该告诉你们，因为你们年纪还小。但是我相信，真相一般好过谎言。如果假装塞德里克的死是由于事故，或是他自己的过失，都是一种对他的亵渎。” 大厅里的每张脸都惊恐地望着丹伯多，现在又彼此相望。在史林德林的桌上，哈利看到杰高。马尔夫正对克来伯和高尔嘀咕着什么。哈利感到身体里涌起了一阵又热又恶心的愤怒。他强迫自己重新望着丹伯多。 “还有一个与塞德里克的死有关的人要提到，”丹伯多继续说，“当然，我说的就是哈利·波特。” 一阵涟漪扫过大厅。几个人朝哈利望来，又转头面对着丹伯多。 “哈利·波特设法从福尔得摩特手上逃了出来，”丹伯多说道，“他奋不顾身地把塞德里克的尸体带回到霍格瓦彻，无论从哪个方面，他都显示了少有的巫师面对黑暗公爵福尔得摩特的勇气。为此，我赞誉他。” 丹伯多严肃地转向他，再一次举起酒杯，几乎每个大厅里的人都照着做了。他们念着他的名字就像刚才念塞德里克的一样，还为他干杯。但透过站着的人群的一丝空隙，哈利看到马尔夫，克来伯，高尔和许多其他的史林德林不屑地坐在位子上，动都没动那酒杯。丹伯多毕竟没有魔眼，因此他没看到。 当每个人都回复原位时，丹伯多又继续，“三巫师争霸赛的目标是加深和推广对魔法的理解。鉴于所发生的——福尔得摩特的回来——这样的目的比以往都更加重要。” 丹伯多看了看玛西姆夫人、哈格力、芙璐和她的比尔顿同学，维克。克伦和史林德林台上的丹姆斯安同学。哈利看到克伦几乎害怕地移开了目光，似乎在期盼哈利说点苛刻的话。 “这厅里的每个客人，”丹伯多说道，目光停留在丹姆斯安学生们的身上，“只要他们愿意回来，都随时欢迎。我再说一次——鉴于福尔得库特的返回，我们团结起来就会强大，分裂开来就会弱小。” “福尔得摩特是散播仇恨和不和的高手。我们只有通过强大的友谊和信任的纽带才能与之作斗争。只要我们的目标是共同的，心胸是开阔的，习惯和语言的差异根本不值一提。” “我相信——当然我强烈希望我是错误的——我们都正陷于黑暗和困难之中，这厅里的有些人已经在福尔得摩特手上受过苦了。 许多家庭被他弄得支离破碎。一周以前，我们当中的一位学生被夺去了生命。“ “请记住塞德里克，记住，如果有一天你要判断是非和难易时，请回想一下发生在这个正直、友善和勇敢的男孩身上的事，因为他没有迷失在福尔得摩特的道路里。请纪念塞德里克。迪格瑞。” 哈利的皮箱已经塞满了，海维回来了，在皮箱上面的笼子里。 他、罗恩和荷米恩正在拥挤的入口同其他的四年级学生一起等待着带他们回到霍格瓦彻站的火车。又是一个艳阳天。他猜想当他晚上到达时，普里怀特街会很热，树叶很密，花坛里长满五光十色的花。但他一点儿也不为这想法感到愉快。 “哈利！” 他看看四周。芙璐·迪来高正急急忙忙地登上城堡的石阶。在她身后远处的地方，哈利看到哈格力正帮着玛西姆夫人给两匹大马套上全新马具。比尔贝顿马车就要出发了。 “我希望我们会再见，”芙璐说道。她走过来，伸出了手。“我希望在那里找一份工作，提高我的英语水平。” “这已经很好了。”罗恩用一种装腔作势的声音说。芙璐对他失笑，荷米恩皱了皱眉头。 “再见，哈利，”芙璐转身要走了，“见到你很高兴。” 当哈利看到芙璐匆忙穿过草地走向玛西姆夫人，银色头发在阳光下如波浪一般时，他的精神禁不住有点飘忽。 “我在想卡克罗夫的学生们怎么回去呢？”罗恩说，“你想没有卡克罗夫他们能自己驾船吗？” “卡克罗夫不驾船，”一个粗厚的声音说道，“他留在屋里，让我们干那活儿。”是克伦过来向荷米恩说再见！“我能跟你说句话吗？”他问道。 “嗯，好的……可以，”荷米恩有点儿慌乱地说道。她跟着克伦穿过人群，消失在他们视野中。 “你最好快点！”罗恩叫她大声喊。“火车一会儿就来了。” 但他让哈利留心看着马车。接下来的时间里自己伸长脖子在人群里四处张望，想看看克伦和荷米恩到底在干什么。他们很快就回来了。罗恩盯着荷米恩，但她却表情漠然。 “我喜欢迪格瑞。”克伦突然对哈利说，“他对我总是很礼貌，即使我是跟卡克罗夫从丹姆斯安来的。”他皱眉说。 “你们有新校长了吗？”哈利问。 克伦耸了耸肩。他就像芙璐一样伸出手，同哈利和罗恩握了握手。 罗恩看起来似乎在经受某种痛苦的内心挣扎。克伦已经开始走了，这时罗恩突然叫道，“能给我签个名吗？” 荷米恩转过身去，微笑地看着那沉甸甸的火车正在车道上笨重地驶来，而克伦面露惊讶但很高兴地在罗恩的一角羊皮纸上签了名。 回去金克斯的途中和去年九月去霍格瓦彻路上的天气截然不同。哈利、罗恩和荷米恩设法要了一个车厢的隔间。皮威军又藏在罗恩的袍子下面，海维的头埋在翅膀下面，昏昏欲睡。哈利、罗恩和荷米恩在这时是一周里谈得最欢的。火车越来越快地向南驶去。 哈利觉得丹伯多在告别会上的讲话在某种程度上令他释然了。现在来讨论发生过的事也已经没那么令人心痛了。说到丹伯多现在可能会采取什么措施来对付福尔得摩特时，他们中断了谈话，因为午餐的小推车来了。 当荷米恩从餐车上回来，把钱放进书包里时，她取出来一份《先知日报》。 哈利看了看，拿不准是否想知道里面说的是什么。 但荷米恩见此情景，就镇静地说，“那没说什么。你可以自己看看，但里面确实没有什么。我每天都查看的。有一天有一小段说到你赢了比赛，他们没提到塞德里克，什么也没提到。我想，是法治强迫他们闭嘴的。” “他无法使理特闭嘴，”哈利说，“尤其是这样一个故事。” “哦，理特自从第二次任务以来就没再写什么了。”荷米恩用一种怪怪的压抑的声音说，“实际上，”她又微颤着说，“理特。史姬特会有一段时间不写东西了。除非她想让我暴露她的秘密。” “你什么意思呀？”罗恩说。 “我发现她在没被允许的场合里偷听别人的私人对话。”荷米恩一口气说出来。 哈利想她这几天肯定憋不住要告诉他们的，但因为发生了其他的事而忍住了。 “她怎样干的？”哈利接着说。 “你怎么发现的？”罗恩盯着她说。 “好吧，其实是你给我这个想法的，哈利。”她说。 “我吗？”哈利困惑地说，“怎么呢？” “窃听。”荷米恩欢快地说。 “但你说他们没起作用——” “哦，不是窃听器。”荷米恩说道，“你瞧，理特。史姬特，”荷米恩的声音带着成功感而颤抖着，“是一个没登记的安尼摩格斯。 她能变成——“ 荷米恩从口袋里拿出一个封住的小玻璃瓶。 “变成一只甲壳虫。” “你在开玩笑，”罗恩说，“你没有……她不是……” “哦，她是的。”荷米恩开心地向他们挥舞着那瓶子。 里面有一些小树枝、树叶，还有一只又肥又大的甲壳虫。 “那不可能——你在开玩笑——”罗恩把那瓶子举到眼前，喃喃说道。 “不，我不是在开玩笑。”荷米恩喜悦地说，“我是医院病房的窗台上抓到她的。看仔细点儿，你会看到她触角上那些条纹像极了她戴着的可恶的眼镜。” 哈利看了看，荷米恩说的很对。他还记得了什么，“我们偷听哈格力给玛西姆夫人讲他妈妈的那天晚上，雕像上也有一个大甲壳虫。” “对！”荷米恩说，“还有，我们在湖边说了话以后，维特从我头发上抓出了一只甲壳虫。还有，除非我记错，那天你的伤疤疼的时候。理特也伏在迪维纳雪课的窗台上。她一年到头都在到处打听事儿。” “我们看到马尔夫在树下时……”罗恩缓缓说道。 “他正对着手上的她说话。”荷米恩说道，“他当然知道。怪不得她老是同史林德林的学生亲密交谈。他们才不在乎她干的事合不合法呢，只要向她提供一些关于我们和哈格力的坏消息就行了。” 荷米恩从罗恩手里拿回了那瓶子，对着那虫子笑眯眯。那虫子在玻璃瓶里懊恼地嗡嗡乱叫。 “我告诉他，我们回到伦敦以后，我就会放了她。”荷米恩说，“我已经在瓶上施了打不破的魔法，所以，她出不来。我还告诉她，她要把那支羽毛笔收起来一年，看看她能不能改掉诬蔑别人的坏习惯。” 荷米恩笑嘻嘻地把瓶子放回到书包里了。 房间的门轻轻地推开了。 “很聪明啊，格林佐。”马尔夫说。 克来伯和高尔站在他身后。他们三个无比开心，却又是使哈利觉得他们比以往都无知和危险。 “现在，”马尔夫一字一句地说道。他看着他们，慢慢地踏进了厢间，嘴角里露出得意的一笑。“你们抓了个可怜的记者，丹伯多最喜爱的男孩子，大事情啊。” 他得意地笑开了向克来伯和高尔斜着眼一瞥。 “我们试着不去想它吧，是不是？”马尔夫逐个地看着他们，柔声说道。“假装什么也没有发生？” “出去。”哈利说。 “你选了输的一方。我警告你，波特！还记得我告诉过你要谨慎交友吗？在霍格瓦彻的第一天，当我们在火车上碰到时。我告诉过你不要跟这种流氓地痞游游荡荡！”他猛地把头伸到罗恩和荷米恩面前。“现在太迟了，波特！他们会是第一个先走，现在黑暗公爵回来了！杂种和亲马格人最先走。嗯——第二——迪格瑞——” 突然好像是有人在车箱里放了一箱爆竹一样，诅咒从四面八方爆炸，让人头昏眼花，砰砰声震耳欲聋。哈利眨眨眼睛，看着地板。 现在马尔夫、克来伯、高尔都毫无知觉地躺在门口上。他、罗恩和荷米恩都站着，每个人用了不同的魔法。而且并不是只有他们三个这样做了。 这时弗来德踩在高尔身上，走进车厢来，又拿出魔杖。乔治也这样，当他跟着弗来德走进来时，小心翼翼地踩在马尔夫身上。 “多么有趣的效果啊，”乔治说。他俯身看着克来伯，“谁用了南方克鲁斯咒语？” “是我。”哈利说道。 “真怪，”乔治轻声说，“我用了果冻腿，好像这两样不应该混合起来，他脸上好像长满了触角。好了，我们不要把他们留在这儿吧，他们不好看。” 罗恩，哈利和荷米恩踢了踢，又把无知觉的马尔夫、克来伯、高尔翻过来，推走——每个都似乎被混合的咒语打得更坏——把他们拖到走廊里，再回到车箱中，把门关上了。 “打牌，有人要玩吗？”弗来德掏出一副牌，问道。 当他们打到第五轮中间时，哈利决定问他们：“你告诉我们吧？”他对乔治说，“你们在敲诈谁？” “哦，”乔治表示不知道，“那事儿。” “没关系。”弗来德不耐烦地摇摇头，“它不是什么重要的事，不管怎样，至少现在不是。” “我们放弃了。”乔治耸耸肩说。 但哈利、罗恩和荷米恩继续问，最后弗来德说，“好吧，好吧，如果你们真要知道，……是露得。巴格蒙。” “巴格蒙？”哈利尖声说道，“你是说他也牵进了？——” “啊，”乔治忧愁地说，“没有这样的事，蠢蛋。他没头脑。” “啊，那，什么？”罗恩问道。 弗来德犹豫了一下，说，“你还记得快迪斯杯上，我们和他的打赌吗？英格兰会赢，但克伦会得到那史尼斯球。” “记得。”哈利和罗恩缓缓地说。 “嗯，那家伙用从爱尔兰福神那得到的金子付给我们。” “然后呢？” “然后，”弗来德不耐烦地说，“它消失了。第二天早上它就不见了。” “但——那肯定是意外，对不对？”荷米恩说。 乔治苦笑了一下。“嗯，我们开始也是这么想的。我们以为只要写信给他，告诉他出了差错，他就会出声的。但那没用，他不理我们的信。我们在霍格瓦彻曾试图同他谈谈，但他总找借口避开我们。” “最后，他很让人不快，”弗来德说，“他告诉我们，我们要赌博还嫩着呢，其实他根本就没给我们什么。” “所以我们就要求拿回我们的钱。”乔治目露怒气地说。 “他拒绝了吗？”荷术思喘着气说。 “对了。”弗来德说。 “但那是你所有的钱啊！”罗恩说。 “告诉你们吧，”乔治说，“当然，我们最后终于发现是怎么回事了。李·乔丹的父亲要巴格蒙给钱时，也遇到了麻烦，原来巴格蒙正与小妖精纠缠不清呢，他向他们借了好多金子。有一群妖精在世界杯后，在树林里拦住了他，搜刮了他所有的金子，但那还不够还债。他们就一路跟踪他来到霍格瓦彻。他已经赔得精光了，一个克拉也不剩，你知道那傻瓜怎样还债吗？” “怎样？”哈利问。 “他在你身上打赌，伙伴。”弗来德说，“他押了个大赌注，说你会赢比赛，与妖精们赌。” “怪不得他老是帮我夺取胜利，”哈利说，“我确实赢了，是不是那样他就可以把金子还你们了。” “不，”乔治摇摇头说，“妖精们跟他一样奸诈。他们说你和迪格瑞不分胜负，巴格蒙则说你会全赢，因此巴格蒙就得逃跑避债。 从第三次任务以来，他就开始逃了。“ 乔治深深地叹了口气，又开始摆弄那些牌。 接下来的旅程让人非常惬意，哈利真希望整个夏天都这样过下去。实际上希望永远都别到达金克斯。但他那年已学会了承受艰辛。即使前面有令人不快的事，时间也不会缓慢下来。很快霍格瓦彻列车就在第九月台的第三个地区降下速度。学生们开始上月台时，走廊里又出现了通常的嘈杂混乱。罗恩和荷米恩提着皮箱小心绕过马尔夫、克来伯和高尔。 哈利停下来了。“弗来德、乔治，等等。” 那双胞胎转过身来。哈利拉开皮箱，拿出他在比赛赢得的钱。 “拿着吧！”他把那袋金币扔到乔治手里。 “什么？”弗来德惊愕地问。 “拿去吧，”哈利坚定地说，“我不想要。” “你神经病了？”乔治想塞回给哈利。 “不，我没有，”哈利说，“你拿着去搞发明吧。它是给搞笑店的。” “你还是挺聪明的。”弗来德敬畏地说。 “听着，”哈利坚定地说，“如果你不要的话，我会扔到下水道里，我不想要，也不需要。有几个笑声对我就够了。我们都要一些笑声。我觉得我们不久会需要更多的笑声。” “哈利，”乔治手里掂着钱的重量，小声地说，“这儿大概有一千帆船币。” “对。”哈利露齿而笑，“想想那是黄油。” 那双胞胎望着他。 “别告诉你妈妈钱从哪儿来……尽管她可能不像以前那样非常希望你们进入部里，你们仔细考虑一下吧。” “哈利。”弗来德说道，但哈利已伸出了手。 “看，”他断然说，“要么收下，要么我用魔法咒你。能帮我个忙吗？给罗恩买些别的袍子，就说是你们给他的。” 一说完，他就离开了车厢，跨过马尔夫、克来伯和高尔——他们还躺在地板上，中了魔法。 维能姨丈正在栅栏那边！威斯里夫人紧挨着他。一看到哈利，她就紧紧拥抱着他，在他耳边轻声说，“我想丹伯多在九月下旬会让你来我们这的。保持联系，哈利。” “再见，哈利。”罗恩说道，拍了拍他的后背。 “再见，哈利。”荷米恩说道，她第一次吻了吻他的脸颊。 “哈利，谢谢。”乔治喃喃说道，而弗来德则在他身边热情地点了点头。 哈利朝他们眨眨眼睛，就转身走向维能姨丈，跟着他默默走出了车站。现在还没有什么可担心的，他坐上到普里怀特街的车后时，告诉自己，就像哈格力所说的，该来的会来，……当真来到的时候，他就得面对。 |
Chapter 36 The Parting Of The Ways Dumbledore stood up. He stared down at Barty Crouch for a moment with disgust on his face. Then he raised his wand once more and ropes flew out of it, ropes that twisted themselves around Barty Crouch, binding him tightly. He turned to Professor McGonagall. “Minerva, could I ask you to stand guard here while I take Harry upstairs?” “Of course,” said Professor McGonagall. She looked slightly nauseous, as though she had just watched someone being sick. However, when she drew out her wand and pointed it at Barty Crouch, her hand was quite steady. “Severus” - Dumbledore turned to Snape - “please tell Madam Pomfrey to come down here; we need to get Alastor Moody into the hospital wing. Then go down into the grounds, find Cornelius Fudge, and bring him up to this office. He will undoubtedly want to question Crouch himself. Tell him I will be in the hospital wing in half an hour's time if he needs me.” Snape nodded silently and swept out of the room. “Harry?” Dumbledore said gently. Harry got up and swayed again; the pain in his leg, which he had not noticed all the time he had been listening to Crouch, now returned in full measure. He also realized that he was shaking. Dumbledore gripped his arm and helped him out into the dark corridor. “I want you to come up to my office first. Harry,” he said quiedy as they headed up the passageway. “Sirius is waiting for us there.” Harry nodded. A kind of numbness and a sense of complete unreality were upon him, but he did not care; he was even glad of it. He didn't want to have to think about anything that had happened since he had first touched the Triwizard Cup. He didn't want to have to examine the memories, fresh and sharp as photographs, which kept flashing across his mind. Mad-Eye Moody, inside the trunk. Wormtail, slumped on the ground, cradling his stump of an arm. Voldemort, rising from the steaming cauldron. Cedric…dead…Cedric, asking to be returned to his parents.… “Professor,” Harry mumbled, “where are Mr. and Mrs. Diggory?” “They are with Professor Sprout,” said Dumbledore. His voice, which had been so calm throughout the interrogation of Barty Crouch, shook very slightly for the first time. “She was Head of Cedric's house, and knew him best.” They had reached the stone gargoyle. Dumbledore gave the password, it sprang aside, and he and Harry went up the moving spiral staircase to the oak door. Dumbledore pushed it open. Sirius was standing there. His face was white and gaunt as it had been when he had escaped Azkaban. In one swift moment, he had crossed the room. “Harry, are you all right? I knew it - I knew something like this - what happened?” His hands shook as he helped Harry into a chair in front of the desk. “What happened?” he asked more urgently. Dumbledore began to tell Sirius everything Barty Crouch had said. Harry was only half listening. So tired every bone in his body was aching, he wanted nothing more than to sit here, undisturbed, for hours and hours, until he fell asleep and didn't have to think or feel anymore. There was a soft rush of wings. Fawkes the phoenix had left his perch, flown across the office, and landed on Harry's knee. “'Lo, Fawkes,” said Harry quietly. He stroked the phoenix's beautiful scarlet-and-gold plumage. Fawkes blinked peacefully up at him. There was something comforting about his warm weight. Dumbledore stopped talking. He sat down opposite Harry, behind his desk. He was looking at Harry, who avoided his eyes. Dumbledore was going to question him. He was going to make Harry relive everything. “I need to know what happened after you touched the Portkey in the maze. Harry,” said Dumbledore. “We can leave that till morning, can't we, Dumbledore?” said Sirius harshly. He had put a hand on Harry's shoulder. “Let him have a sleep. Let him rest.” Harry felt a rush of gratitude toward Sirius, but Dumbledore took no notice of Sirius's words. He leaned forward toward Harry. Very unwillingly, Harry raised his head and looked into those blue eyes. “If I thought I could help you,” Dumbledore said gently, “by putting you into an enchanted sleep and allowing you to postpone the moment when you would have to think about what has happened tonight, I would do it. But I know better. Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it. You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you. I ask you to demonstrate your courage one more time. I ask you to tell us what happened.” The phoenix let out one soft, quavering note. It shivered in the air, and Harry felt as though a drop of hot liquid had slipped down his throat into his stomach, warming him, and strengthening him. He took a deep breath and began to tell them. As he spoke, visions of everything that had passed that night seemed to rise before his eyes; he saw the sparkling surface of the potion that had revived Voldemort; he saw the Death Eaters Apparating between the graves around them; he saw Cedric's body, lying on the ground beside the cup. Once or twice, Sirius made a noise as though about to say something, his hand still tight on Harry's shoulder, but Dumbledore raised his hand to stop him, and Harry was glad of this, because it was easier to keep going now he had started. It was even a relief; he felt almost as though something poisonous were being extracted from him. It was costing him every bit of determination he had to keep talking, yet he sensed that once he had finished, he would feel better. When Harry told of Wormtail piercing his arm with the dagger, however, Sirius let out a vehement exclamation and Dumbledore stood up so quickly that Harry started. Dumbledore walked around the desk and told Harry to stretch out his arm. Harry showed them both the place where his robes were torn and the cut beneath them. “He said my blood would make him stronger than if he'd used someone else's,” Harry told Dumbledore. “He said the protection my - my mother left in me - he'd have it too. And he was right - he could touch me without hurting himself, he touched my face.” For a fleeting instant, Harry thought he saw a gleam of something like triumph in Dumbledore's eyes. But next second. Harry was sure he had imagined it, for when Dumbledore had returned to his seat behind the desk, he looked as old and weary as Harry had ever seen him. “Very well,” he said, sitting down again. “Voldemort has overcome that particular barrier. Harry, continue, please.” Harry went on; he explained how Voldemort had emerged from the cauldron, and told them all he could remember of Voldemort's speech to the Death Eaters. Then he told how Voldemort had untied him, returned his wand to him, and prepared to duel. But when he reached the part where the golden beam of light had connected his and Voldemort's wands, he found his throat obstructed. He tried to keep talking, but the memories of what had come out of Voldemort's wand were flooding into his mind. He could see Cedric emerging, see the old man, Bertha Jorkins…his father…his mother… He was glad when Sirius broke the silence. “The wands connected?” he said, looking from Harry to Dumbledore. “Why?” Harry looked up at Dumbledore again, on whose face there was an arrested look. “Priori Incantatem,” he muttered. His eyes gazed into Harry's and it was almost as though an invisible beam of understanding shot between them. “The Reverse Spell effect?” said Sirius sharply. “Exactly,” said Dumbledore. “Harry's wand and Voldemort's wand share cores. Each of them contains a feather from the tail of the same phoenix. This phoenix, in fact,” he added, and he pointed at the scarlet-and-gold bird, perching peacefully on Harry's knee. “My wand's feather came from Fawkes?” Harry said, amazed. “Yes,” said Dumbledore. “Mr. Ollivander wrote to tell me you had bought the second wand, the moment you left his shop four years ago.” “So what happens when a wand meets its brother?” said Sirius. “They will not work properly against each other,” said Dumbledore. “If, however, the owners of the wands force the wands to do battle…a very rare effect will take place. One of the wands will force the other to regurgitate spells it has performed - in reverse. The most recent first…and then those which preceded it.…” He looked interrogatively at Harry, and Harry nodded. “Which means,” said Dumbledore slowly, his eyes upon Harry's face, “that some form of Cedric must have reappeared.” Harry nodded again. “Diggory came back to life?” said Sirius sharply. “No spell can reawaken the dead,” said Dumbledore heavily. “All that would have happened is a kind of reverse echo. A shadow of the living Cedric would have emerged from the wand…am I correct, Harry?” “He spoke to me,” Harry said. He was suddenly shaking again. “The…the ghost Cedric, or whatever he was, spoke.” “An echo,” said Dumbledore, “which retained Cedric's appearance and character. I am guessing other such forms appeared…less recent victims of Voldemort's wand.…” “An old man,” Harry said, his throat still constricted. “Bertha Jorkins. And…” “Your parents?” said Dumbledore quietly. “Yes,” said Harry. Sirius's grip on Harry's shoulder was now so tight it was painful. “The last murders the wand performed,” said Dumbledore, nodding. “In reverse order. More would have appeared, of course, had you maintained the connection. Very well, Harry, these echoes, these shadows…what did they do?” Harry described how the figures that had emerged from the wand had prowled the edges of the golden web, how Voldemort had seemed to fear them, how the shadow of Harry's mother had told him what to do, how Cedric's had made its final request. At this point. Harry found he could not continue. He looked around at Sirius and saw that he had his face in his hands. Harry suddenly became aware that Fawkes had left his knee. The phoenix had fluttered to the floor. It was resting its beautiful head against Harry's injured leg, and thick, pearly tears were falling from its eyes onto the wound left by the spider. The pain vanished. The skin mended. His leg was repaired. “I will say it again,” said Dumbledore as the phoenix rose into the air and resettled itself upon the perch beside the door. “You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight. Harry. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard's burden and found yourself equal to it - and you have now given us all we have a right to expect. You will come with me to the hospital wing. I do not want you returning to the dormitory tonight. A Sleeping Potion, and some peace…Sirius, would you like to stay with him?” Sirius nodded and stood up. He transformed back into the great black dog and walked with Harry and Dumbledore out of the office, accompanying them down a flight of stairs to the hospital wing. When Dumbledore pushed open the door. Harry saw Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, and Hermione grouped around a harassed-looking Madam Pomfrey. They appeared to be demanding to know where Harry was and what had happened to him. All of them whipped around as Harry, Dumbledore, and the black dog entered, and Mrs. Weasley let out a kind of muffled scream. “Harry! Oh Harry!” She started to hurry toward him, but Dumbledore moved between them. “Molly,” he said, holding up a hand, “please listen to me for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me. What he needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet. If he would like you all to stay with him,” he added, looking around at Ron, Hermione, and Bill too, “you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening.” Mrs. Weasley nodded. She was very white. She rounded on Ron, Hermione, and Bill as though they were being noisy, and hissed, “Did you hear? He needs quiet!” “Headmaster,” said Madam Pomfrey, staring at the great black dog that was Sirius, “may I ask what - ?” “This dog will be remaining with Harry for a while,” said Dumbledore simply. “I assure you, he is extremely well trained. Harry - I will wait while you get into bed.” Harry felt an inexpressible sense of gratitude to Dumbledore for asking the others not to question him. It wasn't as though he didn't want them there; but the thought of explaining it all over again, the idea of reliving it one more time, was more than he could stand. “I will be back to see you as soon as I have met with Fudge, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “I would like you to remain here tomorrow until I have spoken to the school.” He left. As Madam Pomfrey led Harry to a nearby bed, he caught sight of the real Moody lying motionless in a bed at the far end of the room. His wooden leg and magical eye were lying on the bedside table. “Is he okay?” Harry asked. “He'll be fine,” said Madam Pomfrey, giving Harry some pajamas and pulling screens around him. He took off his robes, pulled on the pajamas, and got into bed. Ron, Hermione, Bill, Mrs. Weasley, and the black dog came around the screen and settled themselves in chairs on either side of him. Ron and Hermione were looking at him almost cautiously, as though scared of him. “I'm all right,” he told them. “Just tired.” Mrs. Weasley's eyes filled with tears as she smoothed his bed-covers unnecessarily. Madam Pomfrey, who had bustled off to her office, returned holding a small bottle of some purple potion and a goblet. “You'll need to drink all of this. Harry,” she said. “It's a potion for dreamless sleep.” Harry took the goblet and drank a few mouthfuls. He felt himself becoming drowsy at once. Everything around him became hazy; the lamps around the hospital wing seemed to be winking at him in a friendly way through the screen around his bed; his body felt as though it was sinking deeper into the warmth of the feather matress. Before he could finish the potion, before he could say another word, his exhaustion had carried him off to sleep. * * * * * * Harry woke up, so warm, so very sleepy, that he didn't open his eyes, wanting to drop off again. The room was still dimly lit; he was sure it was still nighttime and had a feeling that he couldn't have been asleep very long. Then he heard whispering around him. “They'll wake him if they don't shut up!” “What are they shouting about? Nothing else can have happened, can it?” Harry opened his eyes blearily. Someone had removed his glasses. He could see the fuzzy outlines of Mrs. Weasley and Bill close by. Mrs. Weasley was on her feet. “That's Fudge's voice,” she whispered. “And that's Minerva McGonagall's, isn't it? But what are they arguing about?” Now Harry could hear them too: people shouting and running toward the hospital wing. “Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva -” Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly. “You should never have brought it inside the castle!” yelled Professor McGonagall. “When Dumbledore finds out -” Harry heard the hospital doors burst open. Unnoticed by any of the people around his bed, all of whom were staring at the door as Bill pulled back the screens, Harry sat up and put his glasses back on. Fudge came striding up the ward. Professors McGonagall and Snape were at his heels. “Where's Dumbledore?” Fudge demanded of Mrs. Weasley. “He's not here,” said Mrs. Weasley angrily. “This is a hospital wing. Minister, don't you think you'd do better to -” But the door opened, and Dumbledore came sweeping up the ward. “What has happened?” said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to Professor McGonagall. “Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you - I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch -” “There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!” she shrieked. “The Minister has seen to that!” Harry had never seen Professor McGonagall lose control like this. There were angry blotches of color in her cheeks, and a hands were balled into fists; she was trembling with fury.- “When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events,” said Snape, in a low voice; he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch -” “I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!” McGonagall fumed. “I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but -” “My dear woman!” roared Fudge, who likewise looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him, “as Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous -” But Professor McGonagall's voice drowned Fudge's. “The moment that - that thing entered the room,” she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, “it swooped down on Crouch and - and -” Harry felt a chill in his stomach as Professor McGonagall struggled to find words to describe what had happened. He did not need her to finish her sentence. He knew what the dementor must have done. It had administered its fatal kiss to Barty Crouch. It had sucked his soul out through his mouth. He was worse than dead. “By all accounts, he is no loss!” blustered Fudge. “It seems he has been responsible for several deaths'.” “But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore. He was staring hard at Fudge, as though seeing him plainly for the first time. “He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people.” “Why he killed them? Well, that's no mystery, is it?” blustered Fudge. “He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who's instructions!” “Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, Cornelius,” Dumbledore said. “Those peoples deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body.” Fudge looked as though someone had just swung a heavy weight into his face. Dazed and blinking, he stared back at Dumbledore as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard. He began to sputter, still goggling at Dumbledore. “You-Know-Who…returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore…” “As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you,” said Dumbledore, “we heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort - learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins - went to free him from his father and used him to capture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return.” “See here, Dumbledore,” said Fudge, and Harry was astonished to see a slight smile dawning on his face, “you - you can't seriously believe that You-Know-Who - back? Come now, come now…certainly, Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who's orders - but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore…” “When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was transported straight to Voldemort,” said Dumbledore steadily. “He witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office.” Dumbledore glanced around at Harry and saw that he was awake, but shook his head and said, “I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight.” Fudge's curious smile lingered. He too glanced at Harry, then looked back at Dumbledore, and said, “You are - er - prepared to take Harry's word on this, are you, Dumbledore?” There was a moment's silence, which was broken by Sirius growling. His hackles were raised, and he was baring his teeth at Fudge. “Certainly, I believe Harry,” said Dumbledore. His eyes were blazing now. “I heard Crouch's confession, and I heard Harry's account of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer.” Fudge still had that strange smile on his face. Once again, he glanced at Harry before answering. “You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and a boy who…well…” Fudge shot Harry another look, and Harry suddenly understood. “You've been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr. Fudge,” he said quietly. Ron, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and Bill all jumped. None of them had realized that Harry was awake. Fudge reddened slightly, but a defiant and obstinate look came over his face. “And if I have?” he said, looking at Dumbledore. “If I have discovered that you've been keeping certain facts about the boy very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh? And having funny turns all over the place -” “I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?” said Dumbledore coolly. “You admit that he has been having these pains, then?” said Fudge quickly. “Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly - hallucinations?” “Listen to me, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore, taking a step toward Fudge, and once again, he seemed to radiate that indefinable sense of power that Harry had felt after Dumbledore had Stunned young Crouch. “Harry is as sane as you or I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous.” Fudge had taken half a step back from Dumbledore, but he looked no less stubborn. “You'll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I've never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before.…” “Look, I saw Voldemort come back!” Harry shouted. He tried to get out of bed again, but Mrs. Weasley forced him back. “I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy -” Snape made a sudden movement, but as Harry looked at him, Snape's eyes flew back to Fudge. “Malfoy was cleared!” said Fudge, visibly affronted. “A very old family - donations to excellent causes -” “Macnair!” Harry continued. “Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!” “Avery - Nott - Crabbe - Goyle -” “You are merely repeating the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago!” said Fudge angrily. “You could have found those names in old reports of the trials! For heavens sake, Dumbledore - the boy was full of some crackpot story at the end of last year too - his tales are getting taller, and you're still swallowing them - the boy can talk to snakes. Dumbledore, and you still think he's trustworthy?” “You fool!” Professor McGonagall cried. “Cedric Diggory! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!” “I see no evidence to the contrary!” shouted Fudge, now matching her anger, his face purpling. “It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!” Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had always thought of Fudge as a kindly figure, a little blustering, a little pompous, but essentially good-natured. But now a short, angry wizard stood before him, refusing, point-blank, to accept the prospect of disruption in his comfortable and ordered world - to believe that Voldemort could have risen. “Voldemort has returned,” Dumbledore repeated. “If you accept that fact straightaway. Fudge, and take the necessary measures, we may still be able to save the situation. The first and most essential step is to remove Azkaban from the control of the dementors -” “Preposterous!” shouted Fudge again. “Remove the dementors? I'd be kicked out of office for suggesting it! Half of us only feel safe in our beds at night because we know the dementors are standing guard at Azkaban!” “The rest of us sleep less soundly in our beds, Cornelius, knowing that you have put Lord Voldemort's most dangerous supporters in the care of creatures who will join him the instant he asks them!” said Dumbledore. “They will not remain loyal to you, Fudge! Voldemort can offer them much more scope for their powers and their pleasures than you can! With the dementors behind him, and his old supporters returned to him, you will be hard-pressed to stop him regaining the sort of power he had thirteen years ago!” Fudge was opening and closing his mouth as though no words could express his outrage. “The second step you must take - and at once,” Dumbledore pressed on, “is to send envoys to the giants.” “Envoys to the giants?” Fudge shrieked, finding his tongue again. “What madness is this?” “Extend them the hand of friendship, now, before it is too late,” said Dumbledore, “or Voldemort will persuade them, as he did before, that he alone among wizards will give them their rights and their freedom!” “You - you cannot be serious!” Fudge gasped, shaking his head and retreating further from Dumbledore. “If the magical community got wind that I had approached the giants - people hate them, Dumbledore - end of my career -” “You are blinded,” said Dumbledore, his voice rising now, the aura of power around him palpable, his eyes blazing once more, “by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be! Your dementor has just destroyed the last remaining member of a pure-blood family as old as any - and see what that man chose to make of his life! I tell you now- take the steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, in office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest Ministers of Magic we have ever known. Fail to act - and history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort a second chance to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild!” “Insane,” whispered Fudge, still backing away. “Mad…” And then there was silence. Madam Pomfrey was standing frozen at the foot of Harry's bed, her hands over her mouth. Mrs.Weasley was still standing over Harry, her hand on his shoulder to prevent him from rising. Bill, Ron, and Hermione were staring at Fudge. “If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore, “we have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit. And I - I shall act as I see fit.” Dumbledore's voice carried no hint of a threat; it sounded like a mere statement, but Fudge bristled as though Dumbledore were advancing upon him with a wand. “Now, see here, Dumbledore,” he said, waving a threatening finger. “I've given you free rein, always. I've had a lot of respect for you. I might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I've kept quiet. There aren't many who'd have let you hire werewolves, or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students without reference to the Ministry. But if you're going to work against me -” “The only one against whom I intend to work,” said Dumbledore, “is Lord Voldemort. If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side.” It seemed Fudge could think of no answer to this. He rocked backward and forward on his small feet for a moment and spun his bowler hat in his hands. Finally, he said, with a hint of a plea in his voice, “He can't be back, Dumbledore, he just can't be…” Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He stuck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled. “There,” said Snape harshly. “There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold.” Fudge stepped back from Snape too. He was shaking his head. He did not seem to have taken in a word Snape had said. He stared, apparently repelled by the ugly mark on Snape's arm, then looked up at Dumbledore and whispered, “I don't know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry.” He had almost reached the door when he paused. He turned around, strode back down the dormitory, and stopped at Harry's bed. “Your winnings,” he said shortly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket and dropping it onto Harry's bedside table. “One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances…” He crammed his bowler hat onto his head and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The moment he had disappeared, Dumbledore turned to look at the group around Harry's bed. “There is work to be done,” he said. “Molly…am I right in thinking that I can count on you and Arthur?” “Of course you can,” said Mrs. Weasley. She was white to the lips, but she looked resolute. “We know what Fudge is. It's Arthur's fondness for Muggles that has held him back at the Ministry all these years. Fudge thinks he lacks proper wizarding pride.” “Then I need to send a message to Arthur,” said Dumbledore. “All those that we can persuade of the truth must be notified immediately, and he is well placed to contact those at the Ministry who are not as shortsighted as Cornelius.” “I'll go to Dad,” said Bill, standing up. “I'll go now.” “Excellent,” said Dumbledore. “Tell him what has happened. Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be discreet, however. If Fudge thinks I am interfering at the Ministry -” “Leave it to me,” said Bill. He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, kissed his mother on the cheek, pulled on his cloak, and strode quickly from the room. “Minerva,” said Dumbledore, turning to Professor McGonagall, “I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also - if she will consent to come - Madame Maxime.” Professor McGonagall nodded and left without a word. “Poppy,” Dumbledore said to Madam Pomfrey, “would you be very kind and go down to Professor Moody's office, where I think you will find a house-elf called Winky in considerable distress? Do what you can for her, and take her back to the kitchens. I think Dobby will look after her for us.” “Very - very well,” said Madam Pomfrey, looking startled, and she too left. Dumbledore made sure that the door was closed, and that Madam Pomfrey's footsteps had died away, before he spoke again. “And now,” he said, “it is time for two of our number to recognize each other for what they are. Sirius…if you could resume your usual form.” The great black dog looked up at Dumbledore, then, in an instant, turned back into a man. Mrs. Weasley screamed and leapt back from the bed. “Sirius Black!” she shrieked, pointing at him. “Mum, shut up!” Ron yelled. “It's okay!” Snape had not yelled or jumped backward, but the look on his face was one of mingled fury and horror. “Him!” he snarled, staring at Sirius, whose face showed equal dislike. “What is he doing here?” “He is here at my invitation,” said Dumbledore, looking between them, “as are you, Severus. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other.” Harry thought Dumbledore was asking for a near miracle. Sirius and Snape were eyeing each other with the utmost loathing. “I will settle, in the short term,” said Dumbledore, with a bite of impatience in his voice, “for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth do not stand united, there is no hope for any us. Very slowly - but still glaring at each other as though each wished the other nothing but ill - Sirius and Snape moved toward each other and shook hands. They let go extremely quickly. “That will do to be going on with,” said Dumbledore, stepping between them once more. “Now I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher - the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for a while; I will contact you there.” “But -” said Harry. He wanted Sirius to stay. He did not want to have to say goodbye again so quickly. “You'll see me very soon. Harry,” said Sirius, turning to him. “I promise you. But I must do what I can, you understand, don't you?” “Yeah,” said Harry. “Yeah…of course I do.” Sirius grasped his hand briefly, nodded to Dumbledore, transformed again into the black dog, and ran the length of the room to the door, whose handle he turned with a paw. Then he was gone. “Severus,” said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, “you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready…if you are prepared…” “I am,” said Snape. He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely. “Then good luck,” said Dumbledore, and he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius. It was several minutes before Dumbledore spoke again. “I must go downstairs,” he said finally. “I must see the Diggory's. Harry - take the rest of your potion. I will see all of you later.” Harry slumped back against his pillows as Dumbledore disappeared. Hermione, Ron, and Mrs. Weasley were all looking at him. None of them spoke for a very long time. “You've got to take the rest of your potion. Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said at last. Her hand nudged the sack of gold on his bedside cabinet as she reached for the bottle and the goblet. “You have a good long sleep. Try and think about something else for a while…think about what you're going to buy with your winnings!” “I don't want that gold,” said Harry in an expressionless voice. “You have it. Anyone can have it. I shouldn't have won it. It should've been Cedric's.” The thing against which he had been fighting on and off ever since he had come out of the maze was threatening to overpower him. He could feel a burning, prickling feeling in the inner corners of his eyes. He blinked and stared up at the ceiling. “It wasn't your fault. Harry,” Mrs. Weasley whispered. “I told him to take the cup with me,” said Harry. Now the burning feeling was in his throat too. He wished Ron would look away. Mrs. Weasley set the potion down on the bedside cabinet, bent down, and put her arms around Harry. He had no memory of ever being hugged like this, as though by a mother. The full weight of everything he had seen that night seemed to fall in upon him as Mrs. Weasley held him to her. His mother's face, his father's voice, the sight of Cedric, dead on the ground all started spinning in his head until he could hardly bear it, until he was screwing up his face against the howl of misery fighting to get out of him. There was a loud slamming noise, and Mrs. Weasley and Harry broke apart. Hermione was standing by the window. She was holding something tight in her hand. “Sorry,” she whispered. “Your potion, Harry,” said Mrs. Weasley quickly, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. Harry drank it in one gulp. The effect was instantaneous. Heavy, irresistible waves of dreamless sleep broke over him; he fell back onto his pillows and thought no more. 第三六章 分别途中 丹伯多站了起来。他看了内卜。克劳斯一会儿，脸上带着厌恶的表情。然后他又举起了他的魔杖，从魔杖中甩出了一条绳子。这根绳子绕着内卜。克劳斯旋转，把他缠得结结实实的。 他转向麦康娜教授，“米尼维，能否请你守在这儿？我带哈利上楼去。” “当然可以。”麦康娜教授说。她看起来似乎有点儿想吐，好像她刚刚看了有人生病一样。但是，当她拿出魔杖，把它指向内卜。 克劳斯时，她的手却非常稳。 “塞维罗斯，”丹伯多转向史纳皮，“请叫波姆弗雷夫人下到这里来。我们要把莫迪送到医院里。然后你再下去地下室，找到可尼斯，把他带到这办公室来。他肯定会想亲自质问克劳斯的。告诉他，如果他要找我的话，半个小时后我会在医院厢房里。 史纳皮静静地点了点头，一阵风似地飞出了房间。 “哈利。”丹伯多温和地说。 哈利站了起来，又晃了一下，他在听克劳斯讲话时，一直都没有注意到腿上的疼痛，但是现在那种痛感又剧烈非常。他意识到自己在颤抖。丹伯多抓住他的手臂，扶着他走出到黑暗的走廊里。 “哈利，你先上我办公室来吧，”他们走上通道时，他静静地说，“西里斯正在那儿等着我们呢。” 哈利点了点头。他有一种麻木感和一种完全不在现实中的感觉，但他不在乎，他甚至为此而高兴。自从他接触了三巫师赛杯以来，他就不想去思考发生的任何事了。他不想去审视那些鲜活如相片的，不断掠过脑海的记忆：皮箱中的莫迪；跌落在地上，抱着一截残臂的温太尔；从滚滚蒸汽的大汽锅中升起来的福尔得摩特，塞德里克……死了……塞德里克，叫着要回到父母身边的…… “教授，”哈利喃喃地说，“迪格瑞夫妇在哪里？” “他们和史伯特教授在一起，”丹伯多说道。他的声音在整个审问内卜。克劳斯的过程中都很沉静，现在却第一次出现了小小的震动，“她是塞德里克房子的主人，也最熟悉塞德里克！” 他们到了怪兽石滴水嘴那里。丹伯多给了密码，它就弹开了。 他和哈利就由螺旋形的自动梯上到橡木门前。丹伯多推开那扇门。 西里斯正站在那里，他那苍白的脸骨瘦如柴，就像他刚逃离阿兹克班一样。一会儿功夫，他就穿过了房间，“哈利，你好吗？我知道——我知道像这样的事——发生了什么事？” 当他扶哈利到一张桌子前的凳子上时，他的手颤动了一下。 “到底发生什么事了？”他更急切地问道。 丹伯多开始把内卜。克劳斯说的每件事讲给西里斯听。哈利没有怎么注意听。他身上的每根骨头都又累又疼。他什么也不想要，只想安静地坐在这里，一直坐到他睡着，就什么也不用去想和去体会了。 有一阵轻轻的扑翼声。那只凤凰达摩克已经离开了他的栖木，飞过来了办公室里，停在哈利膝盖上。 “哈罗，达摩克。”哈利温和地说，他轻轻地抚摸着它那漂亮的猩红色和黄金色的羽毛。达摩克朝他平静地眨着眼睛。他那暖暖的身体令人感到很舒服。 丹伯多不再说话了。他面对着哈利坐在桌子后面，他看着哈利，哈利却回避着他的眼睛。丹伯多想要询问他，他想让哈利重温发生过的事情。 “哈利，我想知道你在迷宫里碰了波奇以后，发生了什么事？” 丹伯多说道。 “丹伯多，这可以留到明天早上再谈吧，好吗？”西里斯鲁莽地说。他的手搭在哈利的肩膀上，“让他睡一会儿，休息休息吧。” 哈利心里对西里斯涌起一阵感激之情。但丹伯多没有在意西里斯的话。他向哈利靠过来，哈利很不情愿地抬起头，望着那蓝色的眼睛。 “如果我觉得让你美美地睡上一觉，让你迟一点再考虑今晚发生了什么事，就帮得上你的话，我是会做的。”丹伯多和气地说，“但是我知道怎样更好。现在对痛苦暂时麻木，到你最终感受到时，会更加难受。你已经显示了我所能期待的最大的勇气，现在我要你再显现一次，我要你说出究竟发生了什么事。” 那只凤凰发出了温软的、震颤的一声，这声音在空气中颤动了一下，哈利觉得好像一滴热热的液体从他喉咙里滑进了肚子里，温暖着他，激励着他。 他深深地呼吸了一口气，开始讲述给他们听。他讲的时候，那天晚上发生的一幕幕好像在他眼前浮现了：他又看见了那使福尔得摩特复活的药剂的闪闪发光的表面，他又看见了在坟墓间出现的食尸者，他又看见了躺在地上靠在那金杯旁的塞德里克的尸体。 有一两次，西里斯发了一些声音，好像想说些什么，他的手仍紧紧靠在哈利肩膀上，但丹伯多举手示意，打断了他。哈利感到高兴，因为他既然开始了，就比较容易接着讲。这甚至是一种信念：他似乎感到某些毒物正从他体中排出来。他花了决心和勇气来继续讲，但他仍能体会到，一旦他全部讲出来后，他会感觉好点的。 当哈利说到温太尔用匕首割开他的手臂时，西里斯发出了一声尖叫。丹伯多腾的一下很快地站了起来，哈利都被惊动了。丹伯多绕过桌子，让哈利伸出手臂来。哈利指出他的袍子被撕开的地方，还有下面的伤口。 “他说，用我的血会比用别人的让他更厉害，”哈利告诉丹伯多，“他说那保护——我妈留下给我的——他也有证明他是对的——他能不伤害自己而接触我，他摸了我的脸。” 一霎那间，哈利觉得丹伯多的眼睛里闪过一种胜利的眼神。但接下来，他又觉得是自己想象的，因为当丹伯多回到桌子后面的位子上时，他看起来又跟以往看到的一样老而憔悴。 “好的，”他又坐了下来，说道，“福尔得摩特克服了那特殊的药剂。哈利，接着讲。” 哈利继续讲。他解释了福尔得摩特怎么样从那口大锅里冒了出来，告诉了他们他所能记起的福尔得摩特对那群食尸者说过的话，以及福尔得库特解开他的绳子，把魔杖还给了他，准备决斗。 但当他说到一束金光把他和福尔得摩特的短杖连在一起了时，他发现喉咙被阻住了。他想接着讲，但关于福尔得摩特杖里出来的东西的记忆如潮水般充满了他的脑海：他看到了塞德里克，看到了那老头，珀茜-佐金斯……他母亲……他父亲…… 他很高兴西里斯打破了沉默。 “魔杖连在了一起？”他望望哈利和丹伯多，问道：“为什么？” 哈利抬头看着丹伯多，此时他正有一副被吸引住的神情。 “皮利。因可顿……”他喃喃说道。 他盯着哈利，突然间他们俩人之间闪过了领悟的一个灵光。 “颠倒的咒语效力？”西里斯尖锐地说。 “对极了！”丹伯多说，“哈利的魔杖和福尔得摩特的都有相同的中心，每支魔杖都有来自同一个凤凰尾巴的一根羽毛。这个凤凰，实际上……”他又说，指着那平稳地站在哈利膝盖上的红黄色的鸟。 “我的魔杖的羽毛是达摩克的？”哈利惊奇地说。 “对，”丹伯多说，“欧里迈特先生写信告诉我说，四年前你离开他的商店的时候，又买了第二根杖。” “那当一根杖碰到他兄弟时会发生什么？”西里斯问道。 “他们之间就不能正常发挥作用了。”丹伯多说，“但是，如果魔杖主人强迫它们斗争的话，就会发生很小的效力。” “其中一个魔杖会强迫另外一个重复它所使用过的咒语——颠倒它。最近的变成最远的……然后就是之前的那些。” 他审视着哈利，哈利点了点头。 “这意味着，”丹伯多缓缓说道，他盯着哈利的脸，“某种形式的塞德里克肯定会重新出现。” 哈利又点了点头。 “迪格瑞又复活了？”西里斯用尖尖的声音说道。 “没有什么咒语能使死人苏醒，”丹伯多沉重地说。“那所有发生的事只是一种逆转的反应。活着的塞德里克的阴影会从魔杖里出来。我说的对吗？哈利。” “他跟我说话了，”哈利说着，声音又颤抖了。“塞德里克的鬼魂，或者不管他是什么和我说过话。” “一种回响。”丹伯多说，“它保留着塞德里克容貌和特性。我猜其他这样形式的东西也出现了……福尔得摩特魔杖早前的受害者”一个老头，“哈利说，喉咙仍噎着，”珀茜-佐金斯和……“ “你父母？”丹伯多静静地说。 “对。”哈利说。 西里斯把哈利的肩膀抓得那么紧，都让哈利觉得疼了。 “魔杖最早的受害者，”丹伯多边说边点头，“从相反的顺序。 当然，如果你保持那种联系的话，就会有更多事物出现了。很好，哈利，这些反应，这些影子……他们干了什么？“ 哈利描述了从魔杖里出来的人物怎样在金色大网里徘徊，福尔得摩特似乎是十分害怕他们，哈利父亲的影子告诉他怎样做，塞德里克怎样做出最后的请求。 讲到这，哈利发觉讲不下去了。他看了看西里斯，他用手捂住了脸。 突然哈利意识到凤凰离开了他的膝盖。它振动翅膀，飞到了地板上，把那美丽的头栖息在哈利受伤的腿上。大大的泪珠从它眼睛里滚落在哈利身上被蜘蛛弄伤的伤口上。疼痛逐渐消失了，皮肤愈合了，他的腿变好了。 “我再说一次，”丹伯多说道，这时凤凰飞上了空中，停在门边的栖木上，“今晚你显示了我所能希望的最大的勇气。哈利，你的勇气跟那些不畏福尔得摩特的淫威，英勇斗争而死的人的勇气一样。你已经挑起了一个巫师的重担，而且你能胜任。你给我们希望。今晚你跟我一起去医院厢房。我不想让你又回到宿舍去，吃上一些安眠药，静静地躺着……西里斯，你愿意同他呆在一起吗？” 西里斯点点头，站了起来。他又变回了那只大黑狗的模样，同哈利和丹伯多走出了办公室，陪着他们走下楼梯，来到医院厢房里。 丹伯多推开门时，哈利看见威斯里夫人、比尔、罗恩和荷米恩围着神清苦恼的波姆弗雷夫人，他们好像在要求知道哈利的去向和在他身上所发生的事。 哈利，丹伯多和大黑狗一进来，他们就马上走了过来包围住。 威斯里夫人发出呜咽的一声叫声，“哈利，哦，哈利。” 她开始奔过来，但丹伯多挡在他俩中间。 “摩莉，”他举起手，说道：“请听我说一会儿。今晚哈利经受了一场可怕的考验，他刚刚为我重述了一切。现在他所需要的就是安静地休息。如果他愿意你们陪着他，”他看着罗恩、荷米恩和比尔，又说，“你们就可以和他呆在一起。但我希望直到他准备好回答，你们才好问他，当然不能是今晚。” 威斯里夫人脸色苍白地点了点头。 她突然责备起罗恩、荷米恩和比尔来，好像他们在吵闹一样，“听见没有？他需要安静。” “校长，”波姆弗雷夫人说道，她看着西里斯变成的大黑狗，“我想请求——” “这只狗会和哈利呆一会儿，”丹伯多直截了当地说，“我保证，他训练有素。哈利，我会等到你上床休息。” 哈利对于丹伯多让别人别问他，心里对他油然而生一种感激之情。他不是不想他们在这里，但他实在承受不了再重新解释一遍，重温一遍。 “我一见到法治，就会回来看你的，哈利，”丹伯多说道，“你在这里待到明天，直到我同学校谈过以后。”然后他走了。 当波姆弗雷夫人领哈利到附近的一张床时，他看到了真正的莫迪正一动不动地躺在房间的另一头的床上。他的木腿和魔眼正放在床边柜台上。 “他好吗？”哈利问道。 “他会好的，”波姆弗雷夫人说道。她拿了睡衣给哈利，又在他周围拉起了床帘。哈利脱下袍子，换上睡衣，上了床。罗恩、荷米恩、比尔，威斯里夫人和黑狗围在床帘边，分别坐在了他四边的椅子上。罗恩、荷米恩好像害怕他一样，小心翼翼地看着他。 “我很好，”哈利告诉他们，“就是有点累。” 当威斯里夫人在抚平他的床罩时，眼睛噙满了泪水。 波姆弗雷夫人匆匆地走到她办公室，带来了一个高脚酒杯和一小瓶紫色药剂。 “哈利，你要喝下这些，”她说，“这是一种保证睡眠不做梦的药。” 哈利接过酒杯，喝了几口。立刻他觉得晕晕乎乎的、周围的一切都变得模糊起来，房间里的灯好像透过他的床帘在他的床边友好地眨着眼睛，他的身体好像在暖暖的羽绒床垫中陷得更深了。他还没喝完那药，还没来得及说话，疲惫就将他带进了梦乡。 哈利醒来了。那温暖和疲倦使他睁不开眼睛，他又想睡下去。 房间里仍然很昏暗，这让他以为夜晚还没过去，他睡得不是很久。 这时他听到了旁边的低声轻语。 “如果不关门的话，他们会吵醒他的。” “他们在叫什么？肯定没有别的什么事发生了，对不对？” 哈利张开了眼睛，他的眼睛累得生疼。有人拿开了他的眼镜，他只能看到近旁威斯里夫人和比尔模糊的轮廓。威斯里夫人正蹲着。 “那是法治的声音，”她咕哝着，“还有，麦康娜的，是不是？ 他们究竟在争执些什么呢？“ 哈利可以听清了，有人在边吵边走向医院厢房。 “让人遗憾，但仍然，麦康娜——”可尼里斯。法治大声说道。 “你本来就不应该把它带进城堡里。”麦康娜教授叫道，“丹伯多发现时——” 哈利听见医院的门被撞开了。比尔重打开了布帘，所有其他床边的人，都看着那门，他们没有注意到哈利坐了起来，戴上了眼镜。 法治大步流星地走进病房。麦康娜和史纳皮紧跟其后。 “丹伯多在哪儿？”法治问威斯里夫人。 “他不在这儿，”威斯里夫人生气地说，“这是个病房，先生，你难道不觉得你最好——” 但此时门开了，丹伯多飞快地走进病房。 “发生了什么事？”丹伯多看看法治和麦康娜说，“你们为什么打扰这些人？米尼维，我感到很惊讶——我叫你守着内卜。克劳斯”没有必要再守着他了，丹伯多，“她尖声说道，”这先生已找人照料他了。“ 哈利从来没有看过麦康娜教授像现在这样失去控制，她脸颊上现出愤怒的颜色，她的手成拳头，她愤怒得在颤抖。 “当我们告诉法治先生我们已抓住了导致今晚事件的食尸者时，”史纳皮低沉地说道，“他似乎觉得其个人安全成了问题。他坚持唤进一个得蒙特陪他进城堡。他把它带到内卜。克劳斯所在的办公室。” “我告诉过他您是不会同意的，丹伯多，”麦康娜教授愤怒地吼道，“我告诉他您是决不会允许得蒙特们踏进城堡一步，但是——” “我尊敬的女士！”法治吼道，哈利同样也没看过他这样愤怒，“作为魔法大臣，我有权决定是否随身带保镖，当我访问一个很可能是危险的——” 但麦康娜教授的声音盖过了法治的。 “那东西一进房间的那一刻，”她尖叫道，浑身发抖地指着法治，“它猛扑上克劳斯，就——” 哈利肚子里感到一阵阴冷，当麦康娜教授拼命地想法形容发生的事的时候。他就明白了。得蒙特干了什么——它给了巴地克劳斯致命的一吻，它通过嘴把克劳斯的灵魂吸了出来——这比死还更糟糕。 “但无论如何，他仍完好无缺，”法治大叫大嚷道，“他应该是对这几个死亡的人负责的。” “但他说不出证言了，可尼斯。”丹伯多说道。他狠狠地盯着法治，好像这是第一次看到他一样。“他给不出证据为什么会杀死那些人。” “为什么会杀死他们？那毫无疑问，对不对？”法治嚷道，“他是个大疯子！从麦康娜和赛维罗斯告诉我的看来，他似乎认为他做这些，是遵从——‘那个人’的旨意。” “公爵福尔得摩特是指令他，可尼斯。”丹伯多说道，“那些人的死只不过是为使福尔得摩特恢复完整力量的，那计划已经成功了，福尔得摩特已经回到了他们身体里。” 法治就好像是脸上被重重地打了一拳一样，呆呆地看着。他迷迷糊糊地眨了眨眼睛，又看看丹伯多，好像不敢相信方才听到的一切。 他盯着丹伯多，开始急促地乱说，“‘那个人……回来了？荒谬。丹伯多，好了……” “无疑就像米尼维和赛维罗斯告诉你一样，”丹伯多说道，“我们听到内卜。克劳斯供认了。在福尔得摩特的影响下，他告诉我们他是怎样挣扎从阿兹克班出来的，福尔得摩特在从珀茜-佐金斯处知道他仍活着——就从他父亲那里把他释放了出来，并利用他来抓获了哈利，告诉你，那计划生效了，克劳斯帮了福尔得摩特返回来了。” “注意，丹伯多，”法治说道。哈利吃惊地发现在他脸上出现了一丝明亮的笑容。“你——你不能真的信那些话，你知道谁回来了？ 好了好了……当然，克劳斯可能相信他自己是接‘那个人’的指令行动的——但要把那样一个疯子的话当真，丹伯多……“ “当哈利今晚碰了那三人魔法杯时，他被直接送到福尔得摩特手里，”丹伯多平稳地说，“他亲眼看到福尔得摩特的再生，如果你跟我来我的办公室的话，我会把一切解释给你听的。” 丹伯多瞥了哈利一眼，看到他已经醒了。丹伯多摇了摇头，说道，“恐怕今晚我不能让你问哈利了。” 法治那奇怪的笑僵住了。 他也瞥了哈利一眼，又看了看丹伯多，说，“你准备把哈利的话当真？” 接下来是一片寂静，西里斯的汪汪声打破了这寂静。他竖起了颈上的毛，朝法治毗牙咧嘴。 “我当然相信哈利，”丹伯多目光炯炯地说道。“我听了克劳斯的供认，听了哈利关于他碰了三巫师赛奖杯以后发生的事的描述。 两者都会合情合理地解释了在去年夏天珀茜-佐金斯失踪以后所发生的事。“ 法治仍带着那奇怪的笑容。在回答之前，他再一次望了哈利一眼，“你要相信那疯狂的杀手和一个小孩的话，说什么公爵福尔得摩特回来了？唉……” 法治又瞪了哈利一眼，哈利刹那间明白了。 “你读过理特。史姬特的报导，法治先生。”他静静地说。 罗恩、荷米恩，威斯里夫人和比尔都跳了起来。他们都不知道哈利已经醒了。 法治稍微红了脸，但脸上浮现了一种倔强顽固的神情。 “是又怎么样？”他看着丹伯多，说道，“如果我发现你对某些有关这小孩的事情保密着？一个普塞尔摩斯，嗯？老是在表演滑稽戏？——”“我肯定你是指哈利由于伤痕而经受的痛苦？”丹伯多冷冷地说。 “你承认了他的疼痛了？”法治很快地说，“是头痛吗？是恶梦？ 又可能是——‘幻觉’？“ “听我说，可尼斯，”丹伯多说道。他向着法治走前一步，又一次发出一种不可名状的力量，“哈利就如同你我一样有理智，他前额上的伤疤并没有使他头脑混乱不清。我相信在福尔得摩特在他近旁，一副凶杀相时，曾经伤害过他。” 法治退后了半步，但仍然那么执拗，“你要原谅我，丹伯多，但我以前曾听说过作为一种警铃的被诅咒的伤痕……” “我是看到福尔得摩特回来了，”哈利叫道。他又想跳下床来，但被威斯里夫人拦住了。“我看到了那些食尸者！我可以说出他们的名字，露布斯。马尔夫——” 史纳皮突然动了一下，但当哈利看他时，他的眼睛飞快地扫了法治一眼。 “马尔夫已经被排除了，”法治明显被冒犯了，他说道，“那是一个老家族，为优秀的事业而贡献——” “麦那亚。”哈利继续说。 “也被排除了！现在正为部长工作。” “——克来伯——高尔。” “你只是在重复那些十三年前就被宣布不是食尸者的人的名字！”法治生气地说，“你可以在审判的旧记录里找到那些名字。看在上帝份上，丹伯多——这男孩子在去年底也是充满了那些古怪的故事——他的故事越编越大，你却照信不误——这男孩会对蛇说话呀，丹伯多，还觉得他可信吗？” “你这个笨蛋，”麦康娜喊道，“塞德里克。迪格瑞以及克劳斯先生这些人的死决不是一个疯子的随意所为。” “我也看不出是有计谋的！”法治喊道，跟她的愤怒相对的，是他气得发紫的脸，“对我来说，你们都决心挑起一阵恐慌，来破坏我们过去十三年营造的稳定！” 哈利不能相信所听到的。他一直都觉得法治是个善良的人，有点胡说八道，有点夸夸其谈，但本质上是好的，但现在站在面前的是一个胆小、怒气冲冲的巫师，他直率地拒绝接受在他舒适而井然有序的世界里所出现的破坏——不相信福尔得摩特能复活。 “福尔得摩特回来了。”丹伯多重复说，“如果你立刻接受这事实，并采取必要的措施，我们仍可能挽救局势，最初和最首要的步骤是使阿兹克班脱离得蒙特的控制。” “荒唐！”法治又叫道，“调开得蒙特！我一提这建议，就会被踢出这职位！我们知道有得蒙特守护在阿兹克班有一半人才会在夜里睡得安稳。” “其余的人睡得没那么踏实，可尼斯，如果知道你把福尔得摩特最危险的支持者放在一群——他召唤即会响应的动物手中。”丹伯多说道，“他们不会再对您忠诚，法治！福尔得摩特可以给他们提供更大的权力、更多的快乐！只要在他身后有得蒙特，有回来的老的支持者，你会很难阻止他恢复十三年前的那种力量。” 法治的嘴一张一合，好像他的怒气难以用言语形容。 “你必须采取的第一步——马上，”丹伯多继续说，“就是向巨人们派使者。” “向巨人们派使者？”法治尖叫道，仿佛大有话说了，“这是什么疯狂的主意？” “向他们伸出友谊之手，在还不是太迟之前，”丹伯多说，“否则的话，福尔得摩特会像以前一样说服他们，说他一个巫师就能给人们权力和自由。” “你——你不是说真的吧！”法治喘着气说。他摇了摇头，又向丹伯多退后了，“如果整个魔法团体中传开了我接近那些巨人们……人们恨他们，丹伯多——那就会结束了我的事业。” “你瞎了眼了，”丹伯多说道，他提高了声音，他周围有一种明显的有力量的氛围。他又闪了一下眼睛，“你被对你职权的热爱蒙住眼了，可尼斯！你总是像以往那样，太过重视所谓的纯种的血。 你不能看出关键的不是出生的是什么人，而是他们将长成什么人。 你的得蒙特刚刚破坏了最后一个纯种血缘的家族的最后存留的一个成员——看看那人将怎样塑造他的生命。我现在告诉你——按我刚才建议的步骤做，你就会在职位内外被誉为我们所知道的最勇敢和最伟大的魔法大师。不按着做的话，历史就会记住是你偏离了正道，给予福尔得库特第二次机会摧毁我们努力创建的世界。“ “不清醒，”法治咕咬着，更加退后了，“疯狂。” 一片寂静。波姆弗雷夫人正一动不动地站在哈利床脚边，手捂着嘴。威斯里夫人对着哈利站着，手搭在他肩上不让他起来。比尔、罗恩和荷术恩正盯着法治。 “如果你决意蒙住双眼，可尼斯，”丹伯多说，“那我们只有分道扬镳了。你走你的独木桥，我走我的阳关道。” 丹伯多声音里丝毫不带威胁，但却使法治怒发冲冠，好像丹伯多正拿着魔杖向他走来一样。 “看这，丹伯多，”他挥着指头威胁说道，“我总是给你自主权。 我很尊敬你。可能我不同意你的某些决定，但我保持了安静。不会有很多人会让你雇佣狼人，或留住哈格力或决定教什么给你的学生而不用参考部长的意见。但如果你执意要对着干——“ “我所要反对的仅此一人，”丹伯多说道，“那就是公爵福尔得摩特，如果你也反对他，可尼斯，那我们就站在一边上。” 法治似乎无言以对。他的小脚摇来摇去好一会儿。手里旋转着他那顶黑色圆礼帽。 最后他说话了，声音里带着一些恳求，“他不可能回来了。这不可能……” 史纳皮越过丹伯多，跨步向前，卷给了左手的袖子。他伸出前臂给法治看，法治问后退缩。 “这里，”史纳皮刺耳地说，“看这里，这块黑印。它不像大概一小时前刚被烧黑时那样清楚，但是仍能看到。每个食尸者都有这块被黑色公爵弄上的烙印。这是他召唤我们的方法，也是互相区别的方法。当他碰了任何一个食尸者的标记时，我们就要立刻消失，在他身边现身。这印记在一年中越来越清晰。卡克罗夫的也是，你知道为什么卡克罗夫今晚会逃跑吗？我们都感觉到了这印记在燃烧。我们都知道他回来了。卡克罗夫害怕的是公爵会报复他的背叛，以致他不敢肯定会被欢迎回到那群人中。” 法治退后了。他正摇着头，他似乎一点都没听进史纳皮说的话。他很明显反感地看着史纳皮手上的丑陋的标记，然后又抬起头看着丹伯多，轻轻地说，“我不知道你和你的人究竟在对丹伯多玩些什么把戏，但我已听够了。我不想再说什么了。丹伯多，我明天会联系你，讨论学校管理。我得回部里去了。” 快走到门口时，他停住了，转过身来，大步走到宿舍里，停在哈利的床边。 “这是你赢的钱，”他说得很短促，他从口袋里掏出一大包金子来，放在哈利床边的柜台上，“一千帆船币，本来应该有一个颁奖仪式，但在这情况下……” 他把黑礼帽塞在头顶上，走出门去，砰的关上了门，他一离开，丹伯多就转身看着哈利床边的一群人。 “有事儿要做。”他说，“摩莉……我可以依靠你和亚瑟吧？” “当然可以，”威斯里夫人说道。她嘴唇发白，但面容坚决。 “他知道法治的真面目。正是阿亚对马格人的喜爱阻碍了他这些年回到部里。法治认为他缺乏适当的巫师自豪感。” “那我得捎个口信给他。”丹伯多说道，“我们得立刻通知，所有能被我们说服的人，亚瑟正好联系部里那些不像可尼斯那样目光短浅的人。” “我去找爸爸，”比尔站起来说，“我现在就走！” “好极了，”丹伯多说道，“告诉他发生过的事。告诉他我不久就会直接联系他。但他要谨慎，如果法治认为我在干涉部里——” “交给我吧！”比尔说。 他拍了拍哈利肩膀，吻了吻母亲的脸颊，披上斗篷就大步流星地走出了房间。 “米尼维，”丹伯多转向麦康娜，说道，“我想尽快在办公室里见到哈格力，还有玛西姆夫人，如果她愿意来的话。” 麦康娜教授点了点头，没说什么就走了。 “波姆弗雷，”丹伯多对波姆弗雷夫人说道，“你可不可以下去莫迪教授的办公室里。在那里，我想你会找到一个很悲伤的小精灵。尽你所能为她服务，并把她带到厨房里。我想你会替我们照顾她的。” “非常好！”波姆弗雷夫人说道。她看起来有点儿惊讶，接着她也走了。 丹伯多确定门已关上了，波姆弗雷夫人的脚步声消失了，他才开始说话。 “现在，”他说，“轮到我们其中两个成员来认清彼此的真面目了。西里斯，……请你变回通常的形状。” 那大黑狗向上望着丹伯多，然后，过了一会儿，就变成了一个人。 威斯里夫人尖叫一声，向床后靠去。 “西里斯！”她指着他尖叫道。 “妈，别叫了，”罗恩说道，“这很正常。” 史纳皮没有尖叫，也没有往后跳，但他脸上有一种愤怒和恐惧夹杂的神情。 “他！”他盯着同样面露厌恶的西里斯，咆哮道，“他在这儿干什么？” “是我邀请他来这里的。”丹伯多望着他们，说，“就跟你一样，赛维罗斯，我信任你们俩。是时候你们摒弃过去的不同，互相信任了。” 哈利觉得丹伯多似乎在强求发生奇迹。西里斯和史纳皮正彼此盯着，异常厌恶。 “我想在短期内，”丹伯多说道，声音里带着一点儿不耐烦，“消除公开的敌对，你们要握手言和，站在统一战线上。时间很短暂，除非我们这几个知道真相的人团结在一起，否则就没有希望了。” 十分缓慢地——但他们仍盯着对方，似乎希望对方病倒一样——西里斯和史纳皮走向对方，握了握手。但很快就松开了。 “这就可以继续了，”丹伯多说道，他又一次走在众人中间。 “现在我有活儿交给你们两个。法治的态度，尽管不是不可预料的。 西里斯，我要体立即出发。你去警告露平、艾理菲格、曼顿格斯。 弗来斯——那群老人。呆在露平家，我会在那儿联系你的。“ “但是——”哈利说道。 他想让西里斯留下，他不想这么快又说再见。 “你很快又会再见到我的，哈利，”西里斯转向他说，“我答应你，但我得尽力去做，你明白吗？” “对，”哈利说，“对……我当然明白。” 西里斯抓了一会他的手，向丹伯多点了点头，又变成了一只大黑狗，穿过整个房间来到门前。然后他用爪子拨开把手，就走出去了。 “赛维罗斯，”丹伯多转向史纳皮说道，“你知道我要你做什么。 如果你准备好了的话……“ “我准备好了。”史纳皮答道。 他看起来比平常苍白了一点儿，他那又黑又冷峻的眼睛奇怪地闪着。 “那，祝你好运！”丹伯多说。他看着史纳皮一言不发地跟在西里斯后面，脸上露出一丝忧虑。 过了几分钟，丹伯多才又说话了。 “我得下楼去，”他最后说。“我要看看迪格瑞，哈利，喝了剩下的药。我过一会儿会来看你们的。” 丹伯多走时，哈利砰地一声又倒在枕头上。荷米恩、罗恩和威斯里夫人都看着他，很长时间都没人说一句话。 “你要吃余下的药了，哈利，”最后威斯里夫人说话了。当她伸手拿瓶子和杯子的时候，用肘轻轻地碰床头柜上的那袋金子。“你美美地睡上一大觉。想想别的事……想想象要用赢来的钱买些什么。” “我不要那金子，”哈利毫无表情地说，“你可以要，任何人都可以要，我不应该赢。它本来应该是塞德里克的。” 自他从迷宫中出来以后，他一直在与之斗争的东西，现在似乎要超过他的力量了。他能感受到眼睛里面有一种炙热的刺痛，他眨眨眼，仰望着天花板。 “这不是你的错，哈利。”威斯里夫人轻声说。 “是我叫他和我一起拿杯的。”哈利说。 现在他喉咙里有燃烧的感觉了。他真的希望罗恩别看他。 威斯里夫人把药放在床边的柜台上，弯下腰来，抱住哈利。他从来都没有被这样拥抱过的记忆，就好像是妈妈拥抱自己一样。他那晚所看到的东西所带来的压力在威斯里夫人抱住他时，都消烟云散了。他妈妈的脸容，爸爸的声音，塞德里克死在地上的一幕，开始在他脑中集结，直到他难以忍受，直到他皱紧脸想驱散那悲惨的斗争所发出的哀号。 砰的一声巨响，威斯里夫人和哈利松开了。荷米恩站在窗边，手里紧紧拿着什么东西。 “对不起，”她轻声道歉。 “你的药，哈利。”威斯里夫人很快地说，边用手背擦干眼睛。 哈利一口喝了下去。效果立竿见影，沉重的不可抗拒的睡意向他袭来，他把眼闭上，什么也不再想了。 |
Chapter 35 Veritaserum Harry felt himself slam flat into the ground; his face was pressed into grass; the smell of it filled his nostrils. He had closed his eyes while the Portkey transported him, and he kept them closed now. He did not move. All the breath seemed to have been knocked out of him; his head was swimming so badly he felt as though the ground beneath him were swaying like the deck of a ship. To hold himself steady, he tightened his hold on the two things he was still clutching: the smooth, cold handle of the Triwizard Cup and Cedric's body. He felt as though he would slide away into the blackness gathering at the edges of his brain if he let go of either of them. Shock and exhaustion kept him on the ground, breathing in the smell of the grass, waiting…waiting for someone to do something…something to happen…and all the while, his scar burned dully on his forehead.… A torrent of sound deafened and confused him; there were voices everywhere, footsteps, screams.…He remained where he was, his face screwed up against the noise, as though it were a nightmare that would pass.… Then a pair of hands seized him roughly and turned him over. “Harry! Harry!” He opened his eyes. He was looking up at the starry sky, and Albus Dumbledore was crouched over him. The dark shadows of a crowd of people pressed in around them, pushing nearer; Harry felt the ground beneath his head reverberating with their footsteps. He had come back to the edge of the maze. He could see the stands rising above him, the shapes of people moving in them, the stars above. Harry let go of the cup, but he clutched Cedric to him even more tightly. He raised his free hand and seized Dumbledore's wrist, while Dumbledore's face swam in and out of focus. “He's back,” Harry whispered. “He's back. Voldemort.” “What's going on? What's happened?” The face of Cornelius Fudge appeared upside down over Harry; it looked white, appalled. “My God - Diggory!” it whispered. “Dumbledore - he's dead!” The words were repeated, the shadowy figures pressing in on them gasped it to those around them…and then others shouted it - screeched it - into the night - “He's dead!” “He's dead!” “Cedric Diggory! Dead!” “Harry, let go of him,” he heard Fudge's voice say, and he felt fingers trying to pry him from Cedric's limp body, but Harry wouldn't let him go. Then Dumbledore's face, which was still blurred and misted, came closer. “Harry, you can't help him now. It's over. Let go.” “He wanted me to bring him back,” Harry muttered - it seemed important to explain this. “He wanted me to bring him back to his parents.…” “That's right. Harry…just let go now.…” Dumbledore bent down, and with extraordinary strength for a man so old and thin, raised Harry from the ground and set -him on his feet. Harry swayed. His head was pounding. His injured leg would no longer support his weight. The crowd around them jostled, fighting to get closer, pressing darkly in on him - “What's happened?” “What's wrong with him?” “Diggory's dead!” “He'll need to go to the hospital wing!” Fudge was saying loudly. “He's ill, he's injured - Dumbledore, Diggory's parents, they're here, they're in the stands.…” “I'll take Harry, Dumbledore, I'll take him -” “No, I would prefer-” “Dumbledore, Amos Diggory's running…he's coming over.…Don't you think you should tell him - before he sees - ?” “Harry, stay here -” Girls were screaming, sobbing hysterically.…The scene flickered oddly before Harry's eyes.… “Its all right, son, I've got you…come on…hospital wing…” “Dumbledore said stay,” said Harry thickly, the pounding in his scar making him feel as though he was about to throw up; his vision was blurring worse than ever. “You need to lie down….Come on now.…” Someone larger and stronger than he was was half pulling, half carrying him through the frightened crowd. Harry heard people gasping, screaming, and shouting as the man supporting him pushed a path through them, taking him back to the castle. Across the lawn, past the lake and the Durmstrang ship, Harry heard nothing but the heavy breathing of the man helping him walk. “What happened. Harry?” the man asked at last as he lifted Harry up the stone steps. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. It was Mad-Eye Moody. “Cup was a Portkey,” said Harry as they crossed the entrance hall. “Took me and Cedric to a graveyard…and Voldemort was there…Lord Voldemort…” Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Up the marble stairs… “The Dark Lord was there? What happened then?” “Killed Cedric…they killed Cedric.…” “And then?” Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Along the corridor… “Made a potion…got his body back.…” “The Dark Lord got his body back? He's returned?” “And the Death Eaters came…and then we dueled.…” “You dueled with the Dark Lord?” “Got away…my wand…did something funny.…I saw my mum and dad…they came out of his wand.…” “In here. Harry…in here, and sit down.…You'll be all right now…drink this.…” Harry heard a key scrape in a lock and felt a cup being pushed into his hands. “Drink it…you'll feel better…come on, now. Harry, I need to know exactly what happened.…” Moody helped tip the stuff down Harry's throat; he coughed, a peppery taste burning his throat. Moody's office came into sharper focus, and so did Moody himself.…He looked as white as Fudge had looked, and both eyes were fixed unblinkingly upon Harry's face. “Voldemort's back, Harry? You're sure he's back? How did he do it?” “He took stuff from his father's grave, and from Wormtail, and me,” said Harry. His head felt clearer; his scar wasn't hurting so badly; he could now see Moody's face distinctly, even though the office was dark. He could still hear screaming and shouting from the distant Quidditch field. “What did the Dark Lord take from you?” said Moody. “Blood,” said Harry, raising his arm. His sleeve was ripped where Wormtail's dagger had torn it. Moody let out his breath in a long, low hiss. “And the Death Eaters? They returned?” “Yes,” said Harry. “Loads of them…” “How did he treat them?” Moody asked quietly. “Did he forgive them?” But Harry had suddenly remembered. He should have told Dumbledore, he should have said it straightaway - “There's a Death Eater at Hogwarts! There's a Death Eater here - they put my name in the Goblet of Fire, they made sure I got through to the end -” Harry tried to get up, but Moody pushed him back down. “I know who the Death Eater is,” he said quietly. “Karkaroff?” said Harry wildly. “Where is he? Have you got him? Is he locked up?” “Karkaroff?” said Moody with an odd laugh. “Karkaroff fled tonight, when he felt the Dark Mark burn upon his arm. He betrayed too many faithful supporters of the Dark Lord to wish to meet them…but I doubt he will get far. The Dark Lord has ways of tracking his enemies.” “Karkaroff's gone? He ran away? But then - he didn't put my name in the goblet?” “No,” said Moody slowly. “No, he didn't. It was I who did that.” Harry heard, but didn't believe. “No, you didn't,” he said. “You didn't do that…you can't have done…” “I assure you I did,” said Moody, and his magical eye swung around and fixed upon the door, and Harry knew he was making sure that there was no one outside it. At the same time, Moody drew out his wand and pointed it at Harry. “He forgave them, then?” he said. “The Death Eaters who went free? The ones who escaped Azkaban?” “What?” said Harry. He was looking at the wand Moody was pointing at him. This was a bad joke, it had to be. “I asked you,” said Moody quietly, “whether he forgave the scum who never even went to look for him. Those treacherous cowards who wouldn't even brave Azkaban for him. The faithless, worthless bits of filth who were brave enough to cavort in masks at the Quidditch World Cup, but fled at the sight of the Dark Mark when I fired it into the sky.” “You fired…What are you talking about…?” “I told you. Harry…I told you. If there's one thing I hate more than any other, it's a Death Eater who walked free. They turned their backs on my master when he needed them most. I expected him to punish them. I expected him to torture them. Tell me he hurt them, Harry.…” Moody's face was suddenly lit with an insane smile. “Tell me he told them that I, I alone remained faithful…prepared to risk everything to deliver to him the one thing he wanted above all…you.” “You didn't…it - it can't be you.…” “Who put your name in the Goblet of Fire, under the name of a different school? I did. Who frightened off every person I thought might try to hurt you or prevent you from winning the tournament? I did. Who nudged Hagrid into showing you the dragons? I did. Who helped you see the only way you could beat the dragon? I did.” Moody's magical eye had now left the door. It was fixed upon Harry. His lopsided mouth leered more widely than ever. “It hasn't been easy, Harry, guiding you through these tasks without arousing suspicion. I have had to use every ounce of cunning I possess, so that my hand would not be detectable in your success. Dumbledore would have been very suspicious if you had managed everything too easily. As long as you got into that maze, preferably with a decent head start - then, I knew, I would have a chance of getting rid of the other champions and leaving your way clear. But I also had to contend with your stupidity. The second task…that was when I was most afraid we would fail. I was keeping watch on you, Potter. I knew you hadn't worked out the egg's clue, so I had to give you another hint -” “You didn't,” Harry said hoarsely. “Cedric gave me the clue -” “Who told Cedric to open it underwater? I did. I trusted that he would pass the information on to you. Decent people are so easy to manipulate, Potter. I was sure Cedric would want to repay you for telling him about the dragons, and so he did. But even then, Potter, even then you seemed likely to fail. I was watching all the time…all those hours in the library. Didn't you realize that the book you needed was in your dormitory all along? I planted it there early on, I gave it to the Longbottom boy, don't you remember? Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean. It would have told you all you needed to know about gillyweed. I expected you to ask everyone and anyone you could for help. Longbottom would have told you in an instant. But you did not…you did not.…You have a streak of pride and independence that might have ruined all. “So what could I do? Feed you information from another innocent source. You told me at the Yule Ball a house-elf called Dobby had given you a Christmas present. I called the elf to the staffroom to collect some robes for cleaning. I staged a loud conversation with Professor McGonagall about the hostages who had been taken, and whether Potter would think to use gillyweed. And your little elf friend ran straight to Snape's office and then hurried to find you…” Moody's wand was still pointing directly at Harry's heart. Over his shoulder, foggy shapes were moving in the Foe-Glass on the wall. “You were so long in that lake, Potter, I thought you had drowned. But luckily, Dumbledore took your idiocy for nobility, and marked you high for it. I breathed again. “You had an easier time of it than you should have in that maze tonight, of course,” said Moody. “I was patrolling around it, able to see through the outer hedges, able to curse many obstacles out of your way. I Stunned Fleur Delacour as she passed. I put the Imperius Curse on Krum, so that he would finish Diggory and leave your path to the cup clear.” Harry stared at Moody. He just didn't see how this could be.…Dumbledore's friend, the famous Auror…the one who had caught so many Death Eaters…It made no sense…no sense at all.… The foggy shapes in the Foe-Glass were sharpening, had become more distinct. Harry could see the outlines of three people over Moody's shoulder, moving closer and closer. But Moody wasn't watching them. His magical eye was upon Harry. “The Dark Lord didn't manage to kill you. Potter, and he so wanted to,” whispered Moody. “Imagine how he will reward me when he finds I have done it for him. I gave you to him - the thing he needed above all to regenerate - and then I killed you for him. I will be honored beyond all other Death Eaters. I will be his dearest, his closest supporter…closer than a son.…” Moody's normal eye was bulging, the magical eye fixed upon Harry. The door was barred, and Harry knew he would never reach his own wand in time.… “The Dark Lord and I,” said Moody, and he looked completely insane now, towering over Harry, leering down at him, “have much in common. Both of us, for instance, had very disappointing fathers…very disappointing indeed. Both of us suffered the indignity, Harry, of being named after those fathers. And both of us had the pleasure…the very great pleasure…of killing our fathers to ensure the continued rise of the Dark Order!” “You're mad,” Harry said - he couldn't stop himself- “you're mad!” “Mad, am I?” said Moody, his voice rising uncontrollably. “We'll see! We'll see who's mad, now that the Dark Lord has returned, with me at his side! He is back, Harry Potter, you did not conquer him - and now - I conquer you!” Moody raised his wand, he opened his mouth; Harry plunged his own hand into his robes - “Stupefy!” There was a blinding flash of red light, and with a great splintering and crashing, the door of Moody's office was blasted apart - Moody was thrown backward onto the office floor. Harry, still staring at the place where Moody's face had been, saw Albus Dumbledore, Professor Snape, and Professor McGonagall looking back at him out of the Foe-Glass. He looked around and saw the three of them standing in the doorway, Dumbledore in front, his wand outstretched. At that moment, Harry fully understood for the first time why people said Dumbledore was the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared. The look upon Dumbledore's face as he stared down at the unconscious form of Mad-Eye Moody was more terrible than Harry could have ever imagined. There was no benign smile upon Dumbledore's face, no twinkle in the eyes behind the spectacles. There was cold fury in every line of the ancient face; a sense of power radiated from Dumbledore as though he were giving off burning heat. He stepped into the office, placed a foot underneath Moody's unconscious body, and kicked him over onto his back, so that his face was visible. Snape followed him, looking into the Foe-Glass, where his own face was still visible, glaring into the room. Professor McGonagall went straight to Harry. “Come along, Potter,” she whispered. The thin line of her mouth was twitching as though she was about to cry. “Come along…hospital wing…” “No,” said Dumbledore sharply. “Dumbledore, he ought to - look at him - he's been through enough tonight -” “He will stay, Minerva, because he needs to understand,” said Dumbledore curtly. “Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery. He needs to know who has put him through the ordeal he has suffered tonight, and why,” “Moody,” Harry said. He was still in a state of complete disbelief. “How can it have been Moody?” “This is not Alastor Moody,” said Dumbledore quietly. “You have never known Alastor Moody. The real Moody would not have removed you from my sight after what happened tonight. The moment he took you, I knew - and I followed.” Dumbledore bent down over Moody's limp form and put a hand inside his robes. He pulled out Moody's hip flask and a set of keys on a ring. Then he turned to Professors McGonagall and Snape. “Severus, please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion you possess, and then go down to the kitchens and bring up the house-elf called Winky. Minerva, kindly go down to Hagrid's house, where you will find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Take the dog up to my office, tell him I will be with him shortly, then come back here.” If either Snape or McGonagall found these instructions peculiar, they hid their confusion. Both turned at once and left the office. Dumbledore walked over to the trunk with seven locks, fitted the first key in the lock, and opened it. It contained a mass of spell-books. Dumbledore closed the trunk, placed a second key in the second lock, and opened the trunk again. The spellbooks had vanished; this time it contained an assortment of broken Sneako-scopes, some parchment and quills, and what looked like a silvery Invisibility Cloak. Harry watched, astounded, as Dumbledore placed the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth keys in their respective locks, reopening the trunk each time, and revealing different contents each time. Then he placed the seventh key in the lock, threw open the lid, and Harry let out a cry of amazement. He was looking down into a kind of pit, an underground room, and lying on the floor some ten feet below, apparently fast asleep, thin and starved in appearance, was the real Mad-Eye Moody. His wooden leg was gone, the socket that should have held the magical eye looked empty beneath its lid, and chunks of his grizzled hair were missing. Harry stared, thunderstruck, between the sleeping Moody in the trunk and the unconscious Moody lying on the floor of the office. Dumbledore climbed into the trunk, lowered himself, and fell lightly onto the floor beside the sleeping Moody. He bent over him. “Stunned - controlled by the Imperius Curse - very weak,” he said. “Of course, they would have needed to keep him alive. Harry, throw down the imposter's cloak - he's freezing. Madam Pomfrey will need to see him, but he seems in no immediate danger.” Harry did as he was told; Dumbledore covered Moody in the cloak, tucked it around him, and clambered out of the trunk again. Then he picked up the hip flask that stood upon the desk, unscrewed it, and turned it over. A thick glutinous liquid splattered onto the office floor. “Polyjuice Potion, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “You see the simplicity of it, and the brilliance. For Moody never does drink except from his hip flask, he's well known for it. The imposter needed, of course, to keep the real Moody close by, so that he could continue making the potion. You see his hair…” Dumbledore looked down on the Moody in the trunk. “The imposter has been cutting it off all year, see where it is uneven? But I think, in the excitement of tonight, our fake Moody might have forgotten to take it as frequently as he should have done…on the hour…every hour.…We shall see.” Dumbledore pulled out the chair at the desk and sat down upon it, his eyes fixed upon the unconscious Moody on the floor. Harry stared at him too. Minutes passed in silence…. Then, before Harry's very eyes, the face of the man on the floor began to change. The scars were disappearing, the skin was becoming smooth; the mangled nose became whole and started to shrink. The long mane of grizzled gray hair was withdrawing into the scalp and turning the color of straw. Suddenly, with a loud clunk, the wooden leg fell away as a normal leg regrew in its place; next moment, the magical eyeball had popped out of the man's face as a real eye replaced it; it rolled away across the floor and continued to swivel in every direction. Harry saw a man lying before him, pale-skinned, slightly freckled, with a mop of fair hair. He knew who he was. He had seen him in Dumbledore's Pensieve, had watched him being led away from court by the dementors, trying to convince Mr. Crouch that he was innocent…but he was lined around the eyes now and looked much older.… There were hurried footsteps outside in the corridor. Snape had returned with Winky at his heels. Professor McGonagall was right behind them. “Crouch!” Snape said, stopping dead in the doorway. “Barty Crouch!” “Good heavens,” said Professor McGonagall, stopping dead and staring down at the man on the floor. Filthy, disheveled, Winky peered around Snape's legs. Her mouth opened wide and she let out a piercing shriek. “Master Barty, Master Barty, what is you doing here?” She flung herself forward onto the young man's chest. “You is killed him! You is killed him! You is killed Master's son!” “He is simply Stunned, Winky,” said Dumbledore. “Step aside, please. Severus, you have the potion?” Snape handed Dumbledore a small glass bottle of completely clear liquid: the Veritaserum with which he had threatened Harry in class. Dumbledore got up, bent over the man on the floor, and pulled him into a sitting position against the wall beneath the Foe-Glass, in which the reflections of Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall were still glaring down upon them all. Winky remained on her knees, trembling, her hands over her face. Dumbledore forced the mans mouth open and poured three drops inside it. Then he pointed his wand at the mans chest and said, “Ennervate.” Crouch's son opened his eyes. His face was slack, his gaze unfocused. Dumbledore knelt before him, so that their faces were level. “Can you hear me?” Dumbledore asked quietly. The man's eyelids flickered. “Yes,” he muttered. “I would like you to tell us,” said Dumbledore softly, “how you came to be here. How did you escape from Azkaban?” Crouch took a deep, shuddering breath, then began to speak in a flat, expressionless voice. “My mother saved me. She knew she was dying. She persuaded my father to rescue me as a last favor to her. He loved her as he had never loved me. He agreed. They came to visit me. They gave me a draft of Polyjuice Potion containing one of my mother's hairs. She took a draft of Polyjuice Potion containing one of my hairs. We took on each other's appearance.” Winky was shaking her head, trembling. “Say no more. Master Barty, say no more, you is getting your father into trouble!” But Crouch took another deep breath and continued in the same flat voice. “The dementors are blind. They sensed one healthy, one dying person entering Azkaban. They sensed one healthy, one dying person leaving it. My father smuggled me out, disguised as my mother, in case any prisoners were watching through their doors. “My mother died a short while afterward in Azkaban. She was careful to drink Polyjuice Potion until the end. She was buried under my name and bearing my appearance. Everyone believed her to be me.” The man's eyelids flickered. “And what did your father do with you, when he had got you home?” said Dumbledore quietly. “Staged my mother's death. A quiet, private funeral. That grave is empty. The house-elf nursed me back to health. Then I had to be concealed. I had to be controlled. My father had to use a number of spells to subdue me. When I had recovered my strength, I thought only of finding my master…of returning to his service.” “How did your father subdue you?” said Dumbledore. “The Imperius Curse,” Moody said. “I was under my fathers control. I was forced to wear an Invisibility Cloak day and night. I was always with the house-elf. She was my keeper and caretaker. She pitied me. She persuaded my father to give me occasional treats. Rewards for my good behavior.” “Master Barty, Master Barty,” sobbed Winky through her hands. “You isn't ought to tell them, we is getting in trouble.…” “Did anybody ever discover that you were still alive?” said Dumbledore softly. “Did anyone know except your father and the house-elf?” “Yes,” said Crouch, his eyelids flickering again. “A witch in my father's office. Bertha Jorkins. She came to the house with papers for my father's signature. He was not at home. Winky showed her inside and returned to the kitchen, to me. But Bertha Jorkins heard Winky talking to me. She came to investigate. She heard enough to guess who was hiding under the Invisibility Cloak. My father arrived home. She confronted him. He put a very powerful Memory Charm on her to make her forget what she'd found out. Too powerful. He said it damaged her memory permanently.” “Why is she coming to nose into my masters private business?” sobbed Winky. “Why isn't she leaving us be?” “Tell me about the Quidditch World Cup,” said Dumbledore. “Winky talked my father into it,” said Crouch, still in the same monotonous voice. “She spent months persuading him. I had not left the house for years. I had loved Quidditch. Let him go, she said. He will be in his Invisibility Cloak. He can watch. Let him smell fresh air for once. She said my mother would have wanted it. She told my father that my mother had died to give me freedom. She had not saved me for a life of imprisonment. He agreed in the end. “It was carefully planned. My father led me and Winky up to the Top Box early in the day. Winky was to say that she was saving a seat for my father. I was to sit there, invisible. When everyone had left the box, we would emerge. Winky would appear to be alone. Nobody would ever know. “But Winky didn't know that I was growing stronger. I was starting to fight my father's Imperius Curse. There were times when I was almost myself again. There were brief periods when I seemed outside his control. It happened, there, in the Top Box. It was like waking from a deep sleep. I found myself out in public, in the middle of the match, and I saw, in front of me, a wand sticking out of a boys pocket. I had not been allowed a wand since before Azkaban. I stole it. Winky didn't know. Winky is frightened of heights. She had her face hidden.” “Master Barty, you bad boy!” whispered Winky, tears trickling between her fingers. “So you took the wand,” said Dumbledore, “and what did you do with it?” “We went back to the tent,” said Crouch. “Then we heard them. We heard the Death Eaters. The ones who had never been to Azkaban. The ones who had never suffered for my master. They had turned their backs on him. They were not enslaved, as I was. They were free to seek him, but they did not. They were merely making sport of Muggles. The sound of their voices awoke me. My mind was clearer than it had been in years. I was angry. I had the wand. I wanted to attack them for their disloyalty to my master. My father had left the tent; he had gone to free the Muggles. Winky was afraid to see me so angry. She used her own brand of magic to bind me to her. She pulled me from the tent, pulled me into the forest, away from the Death Eaters. I tried to hold her back. I wanted to return to the campsite. I wanted to show those Death Eaters what loyalty to the Dark Lord meant, and to punish them for their lack of it. I used the stolen wand to cast the Dark Mark into the sky. “Ministry wizards arrived. They shot Stunning Spells everywhere. One of the spells came through the trees where Winky and I stood. The bond connecting us was broken. We were both Stunned. “When Winky was discovered, my father knew I must be nearby. He searched the bushes where she had been found and felt me lying there. He waited until the other Ministry members had left the forest. He put me back under the Imperius Curse and took me home. He dismissed Winky. She had failed him. She had let me acquire a wand. She had almost let me escape.” Winky let out a wail of despair. “Now it was just Father and I, alone in the house. And then…and then…” Crouch's head rolled on his neck, and an insane grin spread across his face. “My master came for me. “He arrived at our house late one night in the arms of his servant Wormtail. My master had found out that I was still alive. He had captured Bertha Jorkins in Albania. He had tortured her. She told him a great deal. She told him about the Triwizard Tournament. She told him the old Auror, Moody, was going to teach at Hogwarts. He tortured her until he broke through the Memory Charm my father had placed upon her. She told him I had escaped from Azkaban. She told him my father kept me imprisoned to prevent me from seeking my master. And so my master knew that I was still his faithful servant - perhaps the most faithful of all. My master conceived a plan, based upon the information Bertha had given him. He needed me. He arrived at our house near midnight. My father answered the door.” The smile spread wider over Crouch's face, as though recalling the sweetest memory of his life. Winky's petrified brown eyes were visible through her fingers. She seemed too appalled to speak. “It was very quick. My father was placed under the Imperius Curse by my master. Now my father was the one imprisoned, controlled. My master forced him to go about his business as usual, to act as though nothing was wrong. And I was released. I awoke. I was myself again, alive as I hadn't been in years. “And what did Lord Voldemort ask you to do?” said Dumbledore. “He asked me whether I was ready to risk everything for him. I was ready. It was my dream, my greatest ambition, to serve him, to prove myself to him. He told me he needed to place a faithful servant at Hogwarts. A servant who would guide Harry Potter through the Triwizard Tournament without appearing to do so. A servant who would watch over Harry Potter. Ensure he reached the Triwizard Cup. Turn the cup into a Portkey, which would take the first person to touch it to my master. But first -” “You needed Alastor Moody,” said Dumbledore. His blue eyes were blazing, though his voice remained calm. “Wormtail and I did it. We had prepared the Polyjuice Potion beforehand. We journeyed to his house. Moody put up a struggle. There was a commotion. We managed to subdue him just in time. Forced him into a compartment of his own magical trunk. Took some of his hair and added it to the potion. I drank it; I became Moody's double. I took his leg and his eye. I was ready to face Arthur Weasley when he arrived to sort out the Muggles who had heard a disturbance. I made the dustbins move around the yard. I told Arthur Weasley I had heard intruders in my yard, who had set off the dustbins. Then I packed up Moody's clothes and Dark detectors, put them in the trunk with Moody, and set off for Hogwarts. I kept him alive, under the Imperius Curse. I wanted to be able to question him. To find out about his past, learn his habits, so that I could fool even Dumbledore. I also needed his hair to make the Polyjuice Potion. The other ingredients were easy. I stole boom-slang skin from the dungeons. When the Potions master found me in his office, I said I was under orders to search it.” “And what became of Wormtail after you attacked Moody?” said Dumbledore. “Wormtail returned to care for my master, in my father's house, and to keep watch over my father.” “But your father escaped,” said Dumbledore. “Yes. After a while he began to fight the Imperius Curse just as I had done. There were periods when he knew what was happening. My master decided it was no longer safe for my father to leave the house. He forced him to send letters to the Ministry instead. He made him write and say he was ill. But Wormtail neglected his duty. He was not watchful enough. My father escaped. My master guessed that he was heading for Hogwarts. My father was going to tell Dumbledore everything, to confess. He was going to admit that he had smuggled me from Azkaban. “My master sent me word of my father's escape. He told me to stop him at all costs. So I waited and watched. I used the map I had taken from Harry Potter. The map that had almost ruined everything.” “Map?” said Dumbledore quickly. “What map is this?” “Potter's map of Hogwarts. Potter saw me on it. Potter saw me stealing more ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion from Snape's office one night. He thought I was my father. We have the same first name. I took the map from Potter that night. I told him my father hated Dark wizards. Potter believed my father was after Snape. “For a week I waited for my father to arrive at Hogwarts. At last, one evening, the map showed my father entering the grounds. I pulled on my Invisibility Cloak and went down to meet him. He was walking around the edge of the forest. Then Potter came, and Krum. I waited. I could not hurt Potter; my master needed him. Potter ran to get Dumbledore. I Stunned Krum. I killed my father.” “Noooo!” wailed Winky. “Master Barty, Master Barty, what is you saying?” “You killed your father,” Dumbledore said, in the same soft voice. “What did you do with the body?” “Carried it into the forest. Covered it with the Invisibility Cloak. I had the map with me. I watched Potter run into the castle. He met Snape. Dumbledore joined them. I watched Potter bringing Dumbledore out of the castle. I walked back out of the forest, doubled around behind them, went to meet them. I told Dumbledore Snape had told me where to come. “Dumbledore told me to go and look for my father. I went back to my father's body. Watched the map. When everyone was gone, I Transfigured my father's body. He became a bone…I buried it, while wearing the Invisibility Cloak, in the freshly dug earth in front of Hagrid's cabin.” There was complete silence now, except for Winky's continued sobs. Then Dumbledore said, “And tonight…” “I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner,” whispered Barty Crouch. “Turned it into a Portkey. My master's plan worked. He is returned to power and I will be honored by him beyond the dreams of wizards.” The insane smile lit his features once more, and his head drooped onto his shoulder as Winky wailed and sobbed at his side. 第三五章 真相大白 哈利感到自己被人平平地扔到地上，他的脸埋入草丛中，草的气味顿时充溢在鼻内，在那波奇运送着他时，哈利一直是合著眼睛的，现在他仍未睁开眼，也未移动身子，周围的气息好像让他昏昏入睡，而且他头晕得厉害，以至于觉得身下的大地像船的甲板那样摇晃，为了保持平衡，他将两件一直握着的物事抓得更紧了，那是奖杯光滑冰冷的把手和塞德里克的尸身。如果让这两件物事离了手，他觉得他思维边缘的无尽黑暗就会吞没他，恐惧和疲惫让他只能俯在地上，呼吸着草的气息，等待着……等待著有人来……等待着奇迹发生，而那一刻，他额上的伤疤又隐隐作痛起来。 一个突如其来的声响震耳欲聋，也令人迷惑，哈利听到到处都有声音：脚步声、尖叫声……他仍趴在地上，他的脸扭动着像在抗拒那声音，好像那只是一个终会醒来的恶梦…… 然后一双手将他紧紧抱住并将他的身子转过来。 “哈利！哈利！” 哈利被唤醒了。 他看到灿烂的星空，艾伯斯。丹伯多在他身边屈膝半蹲着，一群人慢慢靠上来，像要压向他们，哈利感到头下的大地也在回响着他们的脚步声。 他不再觉得昏迷了，他能看到人群围着他，并有更多的人影靠近来，他们头顶上，繁星争艳。 哈利松开了那金杯，却将塞德里克抱得更紧，他伸起他那空闲着的手抓住丹伯多的手腕，让丹伯多的面孔，稳定下来而不会看起来摇晃不定。 “他回来了！”哈利低声说，“福尔得摩特，他回来了。” “怎么了？发生了什么事？” 哈利看到上方突然出现可尼斯。法治的脸来，那脸写满了惊骇以至于十分苍白。 “天啊，是迪格瑞！”他惊呼着，“丹伯多，你看，他死了！” “哈利，放开他。”哈利听到法治这么说，并发觉有只手想撬开他的手，那只紧抓住塞德里克软软的躯体的手，但是哈利不肯放手。 接着丹伯多靠近来，看起来仍觉得有些模糊朦胧。“哈利，你不能帮他了，结束了，放手吧！” “他让我带他回家，”哈利喃喃说道，似乎这话很重要。“他让我带他回家见他父母……” “对，哈利……现在，请松手吧……” 丹伯多俯下身来，将哈利扶起身，靠在他的腿边上，这对这个又老又瘦的人来说不是件易事，哈利仍在摇晃，他的头沉重地垂着，他那受伤的腿也不能支撑他的体重了，周围的人群挤过，那人影像压着他，“发生什么事了？他怎么了？迪格瑞死了？” “他需要去医院！”法治高声说。“他病了，受伤了，丹伯多，迪格瑞的父母，他们也在这，在人群中。” “我来背哈利，丹伯多，我来背他。” “不，我宁可……” “丹伯多，阿姆斯。迪格瑞跑来了……他靠近了……在他看到真相之前你难道不想告诉他吗？” “哈利，待在这。” 女孩们在尖叫着，哭得歇斯底里……这些场景奇怪地在哈利的眼中扑闪着。 “这就对了，孩子，我来背依……走吧……去医院。” “丹伯多说待在这。”哈利喘着气说，那被打烂的伤口让他痛不欲生，他的知觉越来越模糊了。 “你需要躺下来……来吧，躺下来……” 有个比哈利高大强壮的人半背半拖着他走过吓呆了的人群。哈利听到他们喘着气、尖叫着，而那男人扶着他走上一条小路，带他回城堡，他们走过草地，穿过湖泊和丹伯多的船，哈利一路上只听到那人沉重的呼吸声。 “发生什么事？哈利。”最后，当他带着哈利噔噔噔地走上石阶时，有人问道，原来是魔眼莫迪。 “金杯是个波奇，”当他们通过大厅口时，哈利说：“带我和塞德里克去墓地……在那……，” 噔噔噔，他们走上大理石阶。 “黑色公爵……他们杀死了塞德里克……” “然后呢？” 噔噔噔，他们又通过走廊。 “做一剂药水……让他的躯体回来……” “黑色公爵的躯体回来了？他复活了？” “然后食尸者们来了……我们打了起来……他们从他的魔杖中走出来……” “就在这里，哈利……，坐在这里……你很快就会好的，把这喝了……” 哈利听到一阵开锁声，并发觉有个杯子递到他的手上。 “喝了它……你会好点的……好吧！哈利，我想确切地知道发生了什么事……” 莫迪帮着将那些液体倒入哈利嘴中，他咳起来，有一股辛辣的味道刺激喉咙，莫迪的办公室变得清晰了，也逐渐能看清莫迪的面孔了……他看起来跟法治一样白，一双眼睛紧盯着哈利的脸。 “福尔得摩特复活了，哈利？你肯定吗？他怎么会复活呢？” “他从他父亲的墓中，从温太尔和我的身上取走一些东西，”哈利继续说道，他的头脑清醒了许多，伤口也不再那么痛了。虽然办公室有些暗，但现在，他能完全看清莫迪的面孔了。 “那黑色公爵究竟从你身上取走什么？”莫迪问道。 “血液。”哈利答道，并举起他的手，他的衣袖破开了，那是温太尔用短剑划的。 莫迪吐了一口长长的气，“还有那食尸者们？他们也复活了？” “是的。”哈利说道，“并且是成千上万的……” “他是怎么对待他们的？”莫迪平静地问道。“他原谅他们吗？” 突然，哈利记起来，他应该告诉丹伯多，应该马上告诉他，“霍格瓦彻内有个食尸者，有个食尸者在这里，他们把我的名字刻在了金杯上，他们知道我没死……” 哈利想站起，但莫迪推他坐下。 “我知道那个食尸者是谁。”他平静地说。 “卡克罗夫？”哈利怒问，“他在哪？你抓到他了？他被关起来了？” “卡克罗夫？”莫迪冷笑道。“他逃跑了，在他感觉到黑色标志在他的手臂上灼痛时，他就跑了。他出卖了大多食尸者们的忠实拥护者……但我怀疑他不会逃多远。黑色公爵总是有办法追踪到他的敌人！” “卡克罗夫跑了？他逃跑了？但是……难道他没有在金杯上刻上我的名字？” “是的，”莫迪缓慢地说。“他没有，是我干的。” 哈利几乎不相信自己的耳朵。 “不，你不会，”他说道，“你不会那么做……而且你也不能做到……” “我会让你相信的。”莫迪说，说着他的魔眼转了两转，盯住大门，哈利知道他要确信门外没人偷听，与此同时，莫迪拿出他的魔杖，指着哈利。 “他原谅了他们，是么？”他说，“那些被释放的食尸者们？那些从阿兹克班逃出来的？” “什么？”哈利不明白。 他盯住莫迪用来指着他的魔杖，这可不是开玩笑的！ “我问你，”莫迪平静地说。“他是否原谅了那个不去寻找他的卑贱之人，那些奸诈的胆小鬼们从不敢为他在阿兹克班坐牢，无用的不忠心的小人，却敢蒙面在快迪斯世界杯上欢腾，但当我将黑色标志点燃送上天空时，他们一见到就逃之夭夭。” “是你点燃的……你在说什么呀！？” “我告诉你，哈利……我来告诉你。再也没有一个自由自在地走动的食尸者更让我讨厌的事了。他们在我主人最需要他们的时候背叛了他。我期待着他会惩罚他们，折磨他。来，哈利，告诉我他在折磨他们。”莫迪的脸上突然露出一种狂喜的笑容，“告诉我他曾跟他们说过我，只有我才是最忠心的，准备为了他冒任何险，送给他一件他最想要的东西……那就是——你！” “你不会……这，这不可能是你干的——” “是谁把你的名字刻在火杯名单上，而且在另一个学校名下？ 是我！是谁吓跑了想伤害你和阻止你在比赛中夺魁的那些人？是我！是谁推开哈格力给你看到龙？是我！是谁助你看清唯一能击败龙的办法？是我！“ 莫迪的魔眼现在不再对着大门了，他盯住哈利，他歪在一边的嘴张得更大了。“这不是容易的事，哈利，指引你经历那么多风险而不引起怀疑，为了不让人觉察你的成就中有我的一臂之力，我几乎用尽了一切能用上的聪明智慧，如果你很容易就将一件事做得很好，丹伯多就会怀疑，只要你一进到那个迷宫，相对来说在一个适合的开头位置，那么我知道能有一个机会除掉其他竞赛者而让你以后的路毫无阻碍，但我还得和你的愚蠢作斗争……第二个任务里，那次我以为我们会失败了，我一直在看着你，波特，我知道，你不能解决那蛋的线索，所以便给了你另一个暗示……” “不是你，”哈利吸声道，“是塞德里克结了我线索……” “又是谁告诉塞德里克在水下打开它呢？是我，我相信他一定会告诉你的。普通人很容易操纵，波特，我敢肯定塞德里克想报答你告诉过他有关龙的事，后来他确实这么做了，可是即使这样，波特，你看起来仍很可能失败，我一直关注你……一直在图书馆里关注你，难道你没发觉那本你需要的书一直在你的宿舍吗？是我安排放在那儿的，我把它交给那个兰博顿男孩，你记得吗？《奇异的地中海水生植物和它们的特性》能告诉你所需的有关居利维得的全部知识，我估计你会问你能找到的任何人，兰博顿马上告诉过你如果你问他的话，但你竟没有……没有……你那高傲的独来独往的臭脾气差一点毁了一切！” “结果我怎么办呢？只好从另一无害的渠道告诉你，你在圣诞节时告诉过我一个叫多比的家伙送你一份圣诞礼物，我告诉他去全体职员的屋子里拿些长袍去洗净，我故意和麦康娜教授大声讨论有关那些被劫持的人质的事，以及波特是否想到要使用居利维得，然后你那小仆人朋友直跑向史纳皮的储物木橱，跑出去找你……” 哈利看到墙上的观察镜里有几个朦胧的东西移动着。 莫迪的魔杖仍指着哈利的心脏处，在“你在湖下呆了那么久，波特，我以为你溺死了，幸运的是，丹伯多认为你的愚蠢行为是高贵的品质的体现，并且称赞你，我才松了一口气。” “当然，那晚在迷宫里你其实可以做得更好。”莫迪继续说，“那是因为是我在巡逻，能够透过外面的防护物看到里面，能够用咒符排除你的障碍，我在芙璐。迪米高经过我旁边时，我点昏了她，我对克伦念了咒语，那样他就能结果迪格瑞，你就可以更容易地得到那个金杯。” 哈利睁大眼瞪着莫迪，他不敢相信事情怎么会这样……这个丹伯多的朋友，著名的沃罗……这个曾抓住了许多的食尸者的人…… 这是不可能，完全不可能的…… 那在观察镜上朦胧的东西变得有棱有角，越来越清晰了，哈利能看到三个人的轮廓从莫迪的肩后走来，越走越近，但莫迪没有看到他们，他的魔眼仍盯着哈利。 “黑色公爵不打算杀你，波特，他确实是这么想的，”莫迪低声说。“想想他会怎样回报我，当他发现我为他干好这事，我将你交给他——他复活最需要的东西——然后我为他杀掉你，我会成为所有食尸者中最受宠幸的，我将成为他最喜爱的，最紧密的支持者……胜过他的儿子……” 莫迪的那只正常的眼睛凸了出来，那只魔眼盯着哈利，大门紧关着，哈利明白不可能够时间拿到他自己的魔杖…… “黑色公爵和我，”莫迪继续说，现在他看起来完全疯狂了，他俯视着哈利，“有许多相同之处，比如说，我们都有个令人失望的父亲……事实十分糟糕，哈利，我们两人都觉得跟那样的父亲姓是一种耻辱，并且我们两人都在承受着沉重压力……弑父的压力，那是为了保证能继续提高黑命令！” “你疯了！”哈利叫道，他再也忍不住了，“你是疯子！” “疯？我疯？”莫迪反驳，他的声音高得刺骨，“我们等着瞧，我们看看谁才疯了，现在黑色公爵复活了，我与他并肩作战！他复活了，哈利-波特，你不能打败他，哈，现在，我来打败你！” 莫迪举起他的魔杖，张开嘴要念咒语，哈利迅速将手伸入上衣中…… “麻醉！”一束红光射了进来，夹着扯裂的破碎的声音，莫迪的办公室的大门顿时四分五裂…… 莫迪被击倒在地上，哈利，仍盯着刚才莫迪的面孔所在之处，看到艾伯斯。丹伯多，史纳皮教授，麦康娜教授正从观察镜上看着自己，他转过头，看到他们三人站在门口，丹伯多站在最前，他高举着他的魔杖…… 在那一刻，哈利第一次完全明白了为什么人们总说丹伯多是福尔得摩特唯一害怕的巫师，当丹伯多盯着莫迪那失去知觉的身体时，他的脸看起来很可怕，哈利从未想象他的脸会这样，丹伯多的脸上没有和蔼的笑容，眼镜后的眼睛也不再炯炯有神，只有冷冷的愤怒映在苍老的脸上，有股力从丹伯多脸上辐射出来，看起来像快要燃烧起来了。 他走进办公室，用脚踩了踩莫迪无知觉的躯体，在他身上又踢了几脚，将他反过身来，这样就能看清他的脸了，史纳皮跟着他走上前来，仔细查看了那观察镜，看起来他的面容仍清晰可辩，那观察镜发出强光，照亮了整个屋子。 麦康娜教授则直接走向哈利。 “起来，波特。”她低声说，她的嘴蠕动着像要哭了，“起来孩子……先去医院。” “不行。”丹伯多突然插了句。 “丹伯多，他应该去，你看他，他今晚受够了。” “他要留下来，米尼维，因为他需要了解实情。”丹伯多简洁地回答。然后说，“了解是接受事实的第一步，只有接受了事实，方会康复，他需要知道是谁给他带来了今天这样的苦难，为什么会这样。” “莫迪。”哈利唤道，他仍不相信事情竟会这样，“莫迪怎会变成这样？” “这不是阿拉斯得。莫迪，”丹伯多平静地说。 “你不认识阿拉斯得。莫迪，发生了今晚的事后，在今晚的事发生后真的莫迪不会在我视线范围内带走你。他一带走你我就知道，并跟来了。” 丹伯多在莫迪软绵绵的躯体上俯下身，将手伸入他的上衣中，他掏出了莫迪的水瓶和一串扣在一个圆环上的钥匙。然后他转向麦康娜和史纳皮教授。 “塞维来斯，请你拿给我最厉害的真相水，然后去一趟厨房，将那个叫温奇的仆人带来；米尼维请去哈格力家，在那会发现在南瓜藤下有一条大黑狗，把那狗牵到我的办公室，告诉哈格力我会很快还给他，然后你们回来这。” 尽管史纳皮和麦康娜都觉得这种指示很奇怪，但他们都没表现出来，而是马上转身离开办公室。丹伯多走向那只有七把锁的皮箱，先试了第一把钥匙，打开它，里面有一堆咒符书，他关上皮箱，用第二把钥匙打开第二把锁，再次打开皮箱，那些咒符书不见了，这次是几种破烂的潜望镜，几张羊皮纸和几支羽毛笔，以及看起来像一件银白色的变透明外衣的东西，哈利惊讶地看着丹伯多继续将第三、四、五、六把钥匙打开相对应的锁，重复打开皮箱，并发现每次皮箱里的东西都不同。最后他用第七把钥匙打开锁，掀开盖，这次哈利惊呼一声。 看上去这次是一个地洞，里面有个地下室，在十英尺的地下躺着一个人，看起来瘦瘦的，像饿得昏睡过去了，那是真的莫迪，他的木腿不见了，眼睑下本有个魔眼的地方凹了下去，相当大的一部分的灰白头发也不见了。哈利看着睡在皮箱里的莫迪，和外边躺在地上无知觉的莫迪，怒火上冲。 丹伯多爬进去，轻轻地靠近那熟睡的莫迪身旁，他弯下身。 “被英柏丽欧咒言催眠了，他很虚弱，”他说。“当然，他们不会让他死的，哈利，将那骗子的大衣扔下来，阿拉斯得冷坏了，波姆弗雷夫人须要给他看看，但他现在没有什么危险。” 哈利照做了，丹伯多给莫迪盖好大衣，把他裹好，从皮箱中爬出来，然后他从桌上拿起那个聪明瓶，取下盖，将它倒过来，一种粘稠的液体滴下地板。 “是多利药水，哈利，”丹伯多说，“你看它多简单又多有用，因为莫迪从不饮不是他的水瓶的药水，这是他的特性，这个骗子当然要把真的莫迪关起来，只有这样他才能继续做药水，你看他的头发……”丹伯多看着在皮箱下的莫迪，“这个骗子一直从阿拉斯得头上剪下的头发。但是我想，今晚，我们的假莫迪会忘掉像往常那样做了，在此时，我们会看到……” 丹伯多拖过桌边的凳子，坐下，他的双眼凝视中地上昏迷的莫迪，哈利也看着他，沉默几分钟…… 然后，在哈利眼中，躺在地上的人的面容开始变得不同了，伤疤消失了，皮肤也变得光滑了，损坏了的鼻子长好了并开始抽动，那长长厚厚的灰白头发也缩到头皮下了，取而代之的是金黄色的头发，突然，噔的一声那条木腿掉了下来，一条正常人的腿，在木腿原来的位置上长出来，一会儿后，那只魔眼跑出那脸，一只正常的眼睛长了出来，那魔眼滚到地上，毫无规则朝各个方向转动。 哈利看到一个躺在他面前，白皙的肌肤，长着些雀斑和一头浓密的头发的人，哈利认出他了，他曾在丹伯多的班西福中见过这个人，当时他想向克劳斯先生证明他是无辜的……现在他的眼角起了皱纹，看起来老了许多…… 走廊上传来急促的脚步声，史纳皮回来了，后面跟着温奇稍后是麦康娜教授。 “克劳斯！”史纳皮喊道，呆在门口：“内卜。克劳斯！” “上帝。”麦康娜说道，也呆在门口盯着那躺在地上的人。 脏兮兮的衣冠不整的温奇站在史纳皮的旁边，她的嘴张得大大的，发出一声震耳欲聋的尖叫。 “内卜主人，内卜主人，你怎会在这？” 她扑向那年轻人，俯在他的脸口，对丹伯多喊着：“你杀了他！ 你杀了他！你杀了主人的儿子！“ “他不过是被咒昏了，温奇。”丹伯多说，“请到一边，塞维尔斯，你带药水了吗？” 史纲皮交给丹伯多一小玻璃瓶完全透明的液体，那就是他在课堂上用来威胁哈利的真相之水，丹伯多站起来，走到那年轻人身旁俯下身将他拉到靠墙的观察镜下的地方，那观察镜反照着丹伯多，史纳皮和麦康娜和仍呆在那里，跪在地上的温奇，颤抖着，用手捂住脸，丹伯多撬开那年轻人的嘴，滴进三滴药水，然后将他魔杖指着那年轻人的胸口说：“解符。” 克劳斯的儿子睁开眼，他的脸是松驰的，眼光迷离，丹伯多半跪下，这样他们的脸就相对着。 “你能听见我说话吗？”丹伯多轻声问。 那人的眼睛扑闪了几下。 “能。”他喃喃地说。 “我希望你能告诉我，”丹伯多仍柔声说，“你是怎么到这来的，你又怎样从阿兹克班逃脱？” 内卜深深地吸了口气，夹带着一种战栗的声响，然后用一种低平的毫无感情的声调说：“我母亲救了我，她知道她快死了，她恳求我父亲解救我，那是她的最后愿望，父亲爱她却不喜欢我，但他同意了，他们来看望我，给我喝了一份多利药水，内含有我母亲的一根头发，我母亲也喝了一份多利药水，内含有我自己的一根头发。结果我们互换了身体。” 温奇一直颤抖着摇头，“不要说了，内卜主人，别说了，你让你父亲很为难！” 但是内卜又深深呼吸一次，仍用那种低平的声调说，“那些愚蠢的得蒙特，他们送进阿兹克班一个凉爽人、一个垂死的人，他们也送出一个凉爽人、一个垂死的人，我父亲将假扮成我母亲的我偷送出来，因为每一个犯人都透过门看着我们。” “我母亲在阿兹克班没过多久就去世了！她一直喝着那种多利药水直至死亡逼近，她带着我的躯体以我的名字下葬，每一个人都相信她就是我。” 这人的眼睑又扑闪了好几次。 “你父亲将你带回家后又怎样对待你呢？”丹伯多平静地问道。 “安排我母亲的葬礼，一个安静秘密的葬礼，墓中空空如也，家仆照顾我康复后接着我被藏起来，被严格监控起来，我父亲不得不用大量的咒语制服我，当我逐渐恢复我的力量时，我只想去寻找我的主人……回去为他效力！” “你父亲是怎样制服你的？”丹伯多问。 “用英柏丽欧咒语。”莫迪说，“我在父亲的控制下，被迫日夜穿着件隐身衣，总是和这个仆人在一起，她照料我也同情我，并劝父亲给我偶尔的款待，她说是为了对我良好表现的回报。” “内卡主人，内卜主人，”温奇捂住脸呜咽着说：“你不该告诉他们，我们会有麻烦的……” “还有人知道你仍活着吗？”丹伯多还是柔声问，“除了你父亲和这个仆人？” “有，”克劳斯说，他的眼睑又飞快地扑闪了几次，“我父亲办公室里的一个女巫，珀茜她拿着文件走进家来要我父亲签名，他不在家，温奇领她入屋，然后去厨房找我，但珀茜-佐金斯听到温奇和我说话，她进来查看。她听到的话足以让她猜到是谁在和温奇说话，父亲回到家与她碰上面，他就用一道非常厉害的记忆符咒，让她忘记她所发现的。因为太厉害了，他说那符咒永久地破坏了她的记忆。” “为什么她来刺探我主人的私事？”温奇哭着说，“为什么她不让我们一直保持原状呢？” “告诉我有关快迪斯世界杯大赛的事。”丹伯多说。 “是温奇跟父亲说起的。”克劳斯仍用那种单调的声音说，“她用了几个月的时间来劝他，她说我已经几年呆在家里了，我喜欢快迪斯。让他走，他会穿着隐身衣，让他出去呼吸一次新鲜空气，她说我母亲一定会同意她的，她对父亲说我母亲用生命换来我的自由的一生，而不是换来我仍被监禁的一生，他终于同意了。” “这被小心地安排好了，我父亲带我和温奇一早来到汤波斯，温奇说要为我父亲留个位置，其实是我隐身坐在那里，只有人人都离开了小隔间，我们才出来，温奇看起来独自一人，没有人知道真相。” “但是温奇不知道我变得强壮了，我开始与我父亲的英柏丽欧符咒斗争，好几次我几乎复原了，有几个短暂的时期我挣脱了他的控制，最后这事发生了，并且是在汤波斯，那种感觉像从一个熟睡的梦中醒来，在比赛进行到一半时，我发现自己暴露在大众里，而且我发现有根魔杖从我前面的一个男孩的袋中露出来，自从进入阿兹克班后，我就一直没能拥有一根魔杖了，于是我偷了它，温奇也不知道，温奇有恐高症，她一直捂住脸。” “内卜主人，你这个坏孩子。”温奇低声说，眼泪滴在她的手指上。 “所以你拿到了魔杖。”丹伯多说，“那么你怎样使用它？” “我们回到帐篷里。”克劳斯继续说：“接着我们听见了他们发出的声音，那些食尸者们，那些从来没去过阿兹克班的东西。他们从未为我的主人受过苦，全部背叛了他。他们不再受奴役，他们可以自由地找他，但没有这么做，他们只是在玩马格人运动，那种声音吵醒了我，我的头脑比几年前更加清醒，那让我生气，我有魔杖了，决定攻击他们，因为他们背叛了主人！父亲已离开了帐篷，他去释放那些马格人，温奇见到我生气，她用自己的魔法将我与她连在一起，带我走出帐篷，走进森林，远离那些食尸者们。我想阻止她，想回到露营地去，我想教训那些食尸者们，让他们知道什么是对黑色公爵的忠心，我要惩罚他们的不是，我用那偷来的魔杖将黑色标记射人天空。 “各部巫师都赶来了，他们向四面八方发射了昏迷咒，有一道咒穿过了我与温奇所在的森林，我们中间的连线被打断，两个人都昏过去了。” “当温奇被发现后，我父亲知道我一定在附近，他找遍了她曾待过的灌木丛，并发觉我躺在那里，但等其他的人都走出了森林，他才将我重新用英柏丽欧咒语咒住，并带我回家，他打发温奇走人，她令他差点败露，让我得到了一根魔杖，并且几乎让我逃跑了。” 温奇发出一阵绝望的哭嚎声。 “现在只剩下我和父亲独自在家了，然后，然后，”克劳斯的头摇了摇，他的脸上露出一阵狂喜，“我的主人找到了我。” “有晚深夜，他和他的仆人温太尔来到我家，我主人发觉我仍活着，他在阿尔巴尼亚俘虏了珀茜-佐金斯，并折磨她，她告诉主人很多事，告诉他有关三个魔法赛比赛的事，以及那个年老的莫迪，要在霍格瓦彻教书，他继续折磨她，以至于最终破掉了我父亲放在她身上的那道记忆符，她就告诉他我已从阿兹克班逃出了，并且被我父亲亲自押住不能去找他。因此我主人知道我仍是他忠心的仆人，甚至可能是最忠心的，按照珀茜给他的信息，我主人筹划了一个计划，他需要我帮忙，于是近半夜时他来到我家，父亲开了门。” 克劳斯的脸上笑得更高兴了，仿佛回忆起一生中最甜蜜的时光。 “很快，父亲被主人用英柏丽欧咒语咒住了，现在他被囚禁，被控制了，主人强迫他像平常一样干事情，就像什么事也没发生，当我被释放时，我醒过来了，我又成了自己，像几年前一样充满活力！” “那么公爵福尔得摩特让你去干什么呢？”丹伯多问。 “他问我是否准备好为他做任何事，冒任何险，我总是说那是我的梦想，是我最大的抱负，为他服务，向他证明自己的能力，他告诉我他需要在霍格瓦彻安置一个忠实的仆人，他要引导波特通过三个魔法比赛，而不自己现身去做，他要监视着哈利-波特，保证他拿到金杯，并将金杯变成一把波奇，它能带第一个碰到它的人去主人那里，但首先要…… “你需要阿拉斯得。莫迪。”丹伯多说，他的蓝眼睛愤怒得要喷火，但他的声音仍保持平静。 “温太尔和我一起做这事，我们事先准备好了多利药水，然后潜入莫迪房间，他抗争了一会儿，但我们及时将他制服，将他放进他自己魔法箱中的一个小房间里，剪下他几根头发并加到药水中，我喝下药水，变成莫迪的模样，又拿走他的木腿和魔眼，当亚瑟。 威斯里赶来处理那些听到有动静的马格人时，我已准备好去找他，我把院子里的垃圾筒移动，告诉亚瑟。威斯里，我曾听到入侵者在我的院子里想搬开垃圾筒，然后我穿上莫迪的衣服和黑色检测仪，将它们和莫迪一起放进皮箱里，然后出发去霍格瓦彻，我不让他死，将他用英柏丽欧咒语咒住。我想问他问题，找到他过去的历史，学会他的习惯，那样我就可以瞒过任何人，包括丹伯多，我还需要他的头发来做多利药水，其他的原料很容易找到，我从地牢里偷到布姆斯安的皮，当药剂师问我为何会在他办公室里，我说是奉命来找东西。“ “那么，在你们袭击莫迪后，温太尔怎么了？”丹伯多问道。 “温太尔回去照顾我主人，在我父亲家，并且也监视他。” “但你父亲逃脱了。”丹伯多说。 “是的，过了一段时间后，他开始反抗那英柏丽欧咒语，就像当初我自己一样，有几次他知道要发生什么事了，我主人决定不再让他离开家，那样，已变得不安全，这样，他强迫我父亲给各部送信，说他病了，但温太尔未尽到职责，他看得不够牢，父亲逃开了，主人猜他肯定是想去霍格瓦彻告诉丹伯多所有事，去招认他曾将我从阿兹克班偷运出来。 “主人送信告诉我父亲逃跑一事，他要我不惜一切代价阻止他，所以我一直在观望，是用那张从哈利-波特那里拿来的地图，那张几乎毁掉了所有事的地图。” “地图？”丹伯多快声问道：“什么地图？” “波特的霍格瓦彻地图。波特看到我在里面，有一夜他看到我在史纳皮的办公室里偷了许多用来做多利药水的材料，他以为我是我父亲，因为我们的姓是一样的，那晚我拿走了波特的地图，并告诉他我父亲仇恨黑暗巫师，波特相信我父亲在寻找史纳皮。” “我足足等了一个星期，等父亲到霍格瓦彻来，最后，有一晚，地图告诉我他已进入了地图范围了，我穿上我那隐身衣，走下去见他，他在森林的边界走着，接着波特出现了，紧接着克伦也来了，我只好等待，我不能伤害波特，主人需要他，波特跑去找丹伯多，我点倒克伦，并杀掉父亲。” “不不不！”温奇恸哭叫道，“内卜主人，内卜主人，你在说什么？” “你杀死了你父亲。”丹伯多说，仍然是那样轻声，“你如何处理尸体？” “将他拖入森林，用隐身衣盖住他。我带着地图，看见波特跑进城堡，他见到了史纳皮，丹伯多也跟他们一起。看见波特带丹伯多出城，于是我走出森林，绕到他们后面，走上去见他们，并告诉丹伯多说史纳皮已告诉我出事了。” “丹伯多叫我去找我父亲，我走回父亲的尸身旁，看着地图，全部人都走了，我将他的尸体变形，变成一块石头……并埋了他，连同那件隐身衣，在哈格力小屋前，在新挖过的地里。 现在一阵寂静，除了温奇断断续续的呜咽声。 然后丹伯多说，“那么今晚……” “我试图在天黑前将三巫师赛奖杯送入迷宫。”巴地。克劳斯低声说，“将它变成一把波奇，主人的计划将起作用，他会恢复他的力量，而我会成为他最器重的巫师。” 他狂野的笑又一次浮现在他脸上，然后他的头垂到肩膀上，只剩下温奇在他身边偷哭！ |
Chapter 34 Priori Incantatem Wormtail approached Harry, who scrambled to find his feet, to support his own weight before the ropes were untied. Wormtail raised his new silver hand, pulled out the wad of material gagging Harry, and then, with one swipe, cut through the bonds tying Harry to the gravestone. There was a split second, perhaps, when Harry might have considered running for it, but his injured leg shook under him as he stood on the overgrown grave, as the Death Eaters closed ranks, forming a tighter circle around him and Voldemort, so that the gaps where the missing Death Eaters should have stood were filled. Wormtail walked out of the circle to the place where Cedric's body lay and returned with Harry's wand, which he thrust roughly into Harry's hand without looking at him. Then Wormtail resumed his place in the circle of watching Death Eaters. “You have been taught how to duel. Harry Potter?” said Voldemort softly, his red eyes glinting through the darkness. At these words Harry remembered, as though from a former life, the dueling club at Hogwarts he had attended briefly two years ago.…All he had learned there was the Disarming Spell, “Expelliarmus"…and what use would it be to deprive Voldemort of his wand, even if he could, when he was surrounded by Death Eaters, outnumbered by at least thirty to one? He had never learned anything that could possibly fit him for this. He knew he was facing the thing against which Moody had always warned…the unblockable Avada Kedavra curse - and Voldemort was right - his mother was not here to die for him this time.…He was quite unprotected.… “We bow to each other. Harry,” said Voldemort, bending a little, but keeping his snakelike face upturned to Harry. “Come, the niceties must be observed.…Dumbledore would like you to show manners.…Bow to death, Harry.…” The Death Eaters were laughing again. Voldemort's lipless mouth was smiling. Harry did not bow. He was not going to let Voldemort play with him before killing him…he was not going to give him that satisfaction.… “I said, bow,” Voldemort said, raising his wand - and Harry felt his spine curve as though a huge, invisible hand were bending him ruthlessly forward, and the Death Eaters laughed harder than ever. “Very good,” said Voldemort softly, and as he raised his wand the pressure bearing down upon Harry lifted too. “And now you face me, like a man…straight-backed and proud, the way your father died.… “And now - we duel.” Voldemort raised his wand, and before Harry could do anything to defend himself, before he could even move, he had been hit again by the Cruciatus Curse. The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that he no longer knew where he was.…White-hot knives were piercing every inch of his skin, his head was surely going to burst with pain, he was screaming more loudly than he'd ever screamed in his life - And then it stopped. Harry rolled over and scrambled to his feet; he was shaking as uncontrollably as Wormtail had done when his hand had been cut off; he staggered sideways into the wall of watching Death Eaters, and they pushed him away, back toward Voldemort. “A little break,” said Voldemort, the slit-like nostrils dilating with excitement, “a little pause…That hurt, didn't it. Harry? You don't want me to do that again, do you?” Harry didn't answer. He was going to die like Cedric, those pitiless red eyes were telling him so…he was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it…but he wasn't going to play along. He wasn't going to obey Voldemort…he wasn't going to beg.… “I asked you whether you want me to do that again,” said Voldemort softly. “Answer me! Imperio!” And Harry felt, for the third time in his life, the sensation that his mind had been wiped of all thought.…Ah, it was bliss, not to think, it was as though he were floating, dreaming…just answer no…say no…just answer no.… I will not, said a stronger voice, in the back of his head, I won't answer.… Just answer no.… I won't do it, I won't say it.… Just answer no.… “I WON'T!” And these words burst from Harry's mouth; they echoed through the graveyard, and the dream state was lifted as suddenly as though cold water had been thrown over him - back rushed the aches that the Cruciatus Curse had left all over his body - back rushed the realization of where he was, and what he was facing.… “You won't?” said Voldemort quietly, and the Death Eaters were not laughing now. “You won't say no? Harry, obedience is a virtue I need to teach you before you die.…Perhaps another little dose of pain?” Voldemort raised his wand, but this time Harry was ready; with the reflexes born of his Quidditch training, he flung himself sideways onto the ground; he rolled behind the marble headstone of Voldemort's father, and he heard it crack as the curse missed him. “We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry,” said Voldemort's soft, cold voice, drawing nearer, as the Death Eaters laughed. “You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this mean that you would prefer me to finish it now, Harry? Come out, Harry…come out and play, then…it will be quick…it might even be painless…I would not know…I have never died.…” Harry crouched behind the headstone and knew the end had come. There was no hope…no help to be had. And as he heard Voldemort draw nearer still, he knew one thing only, and it was beyond fear or reason: He was not going to die crouching here like a child playing hide-and-seek; he was not going to die kneeling at Voldemort's feet…he was going to die upright like his father, and he was going to die trying to defend himself, even if no defense was possible.… Before Voldemort could stick his snakelike face around the headstone. Harry stood up…he gripped his wand tightly in his hand, thrust it out in front of him, and threw himself around the headstone, facing Voldemort. Voldemort was ready. As Harry shouted, “Expelliarmus!” Voldemort cried, “Avada Kedavra!” A jet of green light issued from Voldemort's wand just as a jet of red light blasted from Harry's - they met in midair - and suddenly Harry's wand was vibrating as though an electric charge were surging through it; his hand seized up around it; he couldn't have released it if he'd wanted to - and a narrow beam of light connected the two wands, neither red nor green, but bright, deep gold. Harry, following the beam with his astonished gaze, saw that Voldemort's long white fingers too were gripping a wand that was shaking and vibrating. And then - nothing could have prepared Harry for this - he felt his feet lift from the ground. He and Voldemort were both being raised into the air, their wands still connected by that thread of shimmering golden light. They glided away from the tombstone of Voldemort's father and then came to rest on a patch of ground that was clear and free of graves.…The Death Eaters were shouting; they were asking Voldemort for instructions; they were closing in, reforming the circle around Harry and Voldemort, the snake slithering at their heels, some of them drawing their wands - The golden thread connecting Harry and Voldemort splintered; though the wands remained connected, a thousand more beams arced high over Harry and Voldemort, crisscrossing all around them, until they were enclosed in a golden, dome-shaped web, a cage of light, beyond which the Death Eaters circled like jackals, their cries strangely muffled now.… “Do nothing!” Voldemort shrieked to the Death Eaters, and Harry saw his red eyes wide with astonishment at what was happening, saw him fighting to break the thread of light still connecting his wand with Harry's; Harry held onto his wand more tightly, with both hands, and the golden thread remained unbroken. “Do nothing unless I command you!” Voldemort shouted to the Death Eaters. And then an unearthly and beautiful sound filled the air.…It was coming from every thread of the light-spun web vibrating around Harry and Voldemort. It was a sound Harry recognized, though he had heard it only once before in his life: phoenix song. It was the sound of hope to Harry…the most beautiful and welcome thing he had ever heard in his life.…He felt as though the song were inside him instead of just around him.…It was the sound he connected with Dumbledore, and it was almost as though a friend were speaking in his ear.… Don't break the connection. I know. Harry told the music, I know I mustn't…but no sooner had he thought it, than the thing became much harder to do. His wand began to vibrate more powerfully than ever…and now the beam between him and Voldemort changed too…it was as though large beads of light were sliding up and down the thread connecting the wands - Harry felt his wand give a shudder under his hand as the light beads began to slide slowly and steadily his way.…The direction of the beams movement was now toward him, from Voldemort, and he felt his wand shudder angrily.… As the closest bead of light moved nearer to Harry's wand tip, the wood beneath his fingers grew so hot he feared it would burst into flame. The closer that bead moved, the harder Harry's wand vibrated; he was sure his wand would not survive contact with it; it felt as though it was about to shatter under his fingers - He concentrated every last particle of his mind upon forcing the bead back toward Voldemort, his ears full of phoenix song, his eyes furious, fixed…and slowly, very slowly, the beads quivered to a halt, and then, just as slowly, they began to move the other way…and it was Voldemort's wand that was vibrating extra-hard now…Voldemort who looked astonished, and almost fearful.… One of the beads of light was quivering, inches from the tip of Voldemort's wand. Harry didn't understand why he was doing it, didn't know what it might achieve…but he now concentrated as he had never done in his life on forcing that bead of light right back into Voldemort's wand…and slowly…very slowly…it moved along the golden thread…it trembled for a moment…and then it connected.… At once, Voldemort's wand began to emit echoing screams of pain…then - Voldemort's red eyes widened with shock - a dense, smoky hand flew out of the tip of it and vanished…the ghost of the hand he had made Wormtail…more shouts of pain…and then something much larger began to blossom from Voldemort's wand tip, a great, grayish something, that looked as though it were made of the solidest, densest smoke.…It was a head…now a chest and arms…the torso of Cedric Diggory. If ever Harry might have released his wand from shock, it would have been then, but instinct kept him clutching his wand tightly, so that the thread of golden light remained unbroken, even though the thick gray ghost of Cedric Diggory (was it a ghost? it looked so solid) emerged in its entirety from the end of Voldemort's wand, as though it were squeezing itself out of a very narrow tunnel…and this shade of Cedric stood up, and looked up and down the golden thread of light, and spoke. “Hold on. Harry,” it said. Its voice was distant and echoing. Harry looked at Voldemort…his wide red eyes were still shocked…he had no more expected this than Harry had…and, very dimly. Harry heard the frightened yells of the Death Eaters, prowling around the edges of the golden dome. More screams of pain from the wand…and then something else emerged from its tip…the dense shadow of a second head, quickly followed by arms and torso…an old man Harry had seen only in a dream was now pushing himself out of the end of the wand just as Cedric had done…and his ghost, or his shadow, or whatever it was, fell next to Cedric's, and surveyed Harry and Voldemort, and the golden web, and the connected wands, with mild surprise, leaning on his walking stick.… “He was a real wizard, then?” the old man said, his eyes on Voldemort. “Killed me, that one did.…You fight him, boy.…” But already, yet another head was emerging…and this head, gray as a smoky statue, was a woman's.…Harry, both arms shaking now as he fought to keep his wand still, saw her drop to the ground and straighten up like the others, staring.… The shadow of Bertha Jorkins surveyed the battle before her with wide eyes. “Don't let go, now!” she cried, and her voice echoed like Cedric's as though from very far away. “Don't let him get you, Harry - don't let go!” She and the other two shadowy figures began to pace around the inner walls of the golden web, while the Death Eaters flitted around the outside of it…and Voldemort's dead victims whispered as they circled the duelers, whispered words of encouragement to Harry, and hissed words Harry couldn't hear to Voldemort. And now another head was emerging from the tip of Voldemort's wand…and Harry knew when he saw it who it would be…he knew, as though he had expected it from the moment when Cedric had appeared from the wand…knew, because the man appearing was the one he'd thought of more than any other tonight.… The smoky shadow of a tall man with untidy hair fell to the ground as Bertha had done, straightened up, and looked at him…and Harry, his arms shaking madly now, looked back into the ghostly face of his father. “Your mother's coming…” he said quietly. “She wants to see you…it will be all right…hold on.…” And she came…first her head, then her body…a young woman with long hair, the smoky, shadowy form of Lily Potter blossomed from the end of Voldemort's wand, fell to the ground, and straightened like her husband. She walked close to Harry, looking down at him, and she spoke in the same distant, echoing voice as the others, but quietly, so that Voldemort, his face now livid with fear as his victims prowled around him, could not hear…. “When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments…but we will give you time…you must get to the Portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts…do you understand, Harry?” “Yes,” Harry gasped, fighting now to keep a hold on his wand, which was slipping and sliding beneath his fingers. “Harry…” whispered the figure of Cedric, “take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents,…” “I will,” said Harry, his face screwed up with the effort of holding the wand. “Do it now,” whispered his father's voice, “be ready to run…do it now.…” “NOW!” Harry yelled; he didn't think he could have held on for another moment anyway - he pulled his wand upward with an almighty wrench, and the golden thread broke; the cage of light vanished, the phoenix song died - but the shadowy figures of Voldemort's victims did not disappear - they were closing in upon Voldemort, shielding Harry from his gaze - And Harry ran as he had never run in his life, knocking two stunned Death Eaters aside as he passed; he zigzagged behind headstones, feeling their curses following him, hearing them hit the headstones - he was dodging curses and graves, pelting toward Cedric's body, no longer aware of the pain in his leg, his whole being concentrated on what he had to do - “Stun him!” he heard Voldemort scream. Ten feet from Cedric, Harry dived behind a marble angel to avoid the jets of red light and saw the tip of its wing shatter as the spells hit it. Gripping his wand more tightly, he dashed out from behind the angel - “Impedimenta!” he bellowed, pointing his wand wildly over his shoulder at the Death Eaters running at him. From a muffled yell, he thought he had stopped at least one of them, but there was no time to stop and look; he jumped over the cup and dived as he heard more wand blasts behind him; more jets of light flew over his head as he fell, stretching out his hand to grab Cedric's arm… “Stand aside! I will kill him! He is mine!” shrieked Voldemort. Harry's hand had closed on Cedric's wrist; one tombstone stood between him and Voldemort, but Cedric was too heavy to carry, and the cup was out of reach - Voldemort's red eyes flamed in the darkness. Harry saw his mouth curl into a smile, saw him raise his wand. “Accio!” Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the Triwizard Cup. It flew into the air and soared toward him. Harry caught it by the handle - He heard Voldemort's scream of fury at the same moment that he felt the jerk behind his navel that meant the Portkey had worked - it was speeding him away in a whirl of wind and color, and Cedric along with him.…They were going back. 温太尔走近哈利，哈利赶忙伸出双脚，以在绳子被解开之前站起来。温太尔举起他那只新装的银手，取出塞住哈利嘴的那团东西，然后猛然一击，砍断了把哈利绑在墓碑上的绳子。 曾有几分之几秒的时间，哈利考虑要逃走，但当他站在杂草丛生的墓地上时，他受伤的小腿却在发抖。这时食尸者们已集中了起来，在哈利和福尔得摩特周围形成了一个严密的包围圈，失踪的食尸者的位置也被合拢。温太尔走出包围圈，向塞德里克的尸体走去，回来时拿着哈利的魔杖，头也不抬就把它粗暴地塞到哈利手中。接着温太尔回到了食尸者们所围成的包围圈中。 “哈利·波特，你已经学会了怎样决斗吧？”福尔得摩特柔声地说，他的红眼睛在黑暗之中闪闪发光。 听到这些，哈利想起了两年前在霍格瓦彻，他曾短暂地加入的那个决斗俱乐部，这虽然是很久以前的事了……在那里他所学的只是能使人解除武装的咒语——“卸武咒”……就算他能够用它来夺去福尔得摩特的魔杖，这有什么用呢？他现在三十多食尸者包围着。他知道他现在面临着过去莫迪总是告诫的情形……不可解除的杀咒——福尔得摩特是对的——这次他母亲不在这里代他死去了……他感到很无助…… “哈利，让我们互相向对方鞠躬吧。”福尔得摩特说，稍微曲了一下身，但他蛇般的脸仍向上对着哈利。“快点，这些细节是必须遵守的……丹伯多喜欢看到你有礼貌……哈利，向死亡屈身吧那些食尸者们大笑了起来。福尔得摩特没有唇的嘴微笑着。哈利没有鞠躬，他不想在福尔得摩特杀死自己之前被他玩弄，他也不想让他得到满足。 “我说过了，鞠躬。”福尔得摩特说着，举起他的魔杖。哈利感到好像有一只巨大的、看不见的手拉着他，使他上身残忍地向前弯曲，他的脊椎也弯曲了起来。这时那些食尸者们比以前笑得更厉害了。 “很好，”福尔得摩特柔声地说，抬起了他的魔杖，使哈利向下压的力顿时消失了。“现在你对着我，像个男子汉——自豪的挺直你的腰，就像你父亲死时的那样——好，现在我们开始决斗。” 福尔得库特举起他的魔杖，哈利还没来得及防护自己，甚至还没来得及移动，他已中了克鲁布尔特斯魔法。极度的，使人耗尽一切的疼痛使他感觉不到他现在正在哪里——炽热的小刀刺穿着他的每一寸皮肤，在疼痛中的头简直要破裂了，他大叫了起来，比以前任何时候都大声…… 突然，疼痛停止了。哈利翻身艰难地站了起来，他不由自主地不断发抖，就像温太尔在他的一只手被砍下来后那样。哈利摇晃着走向旁边，来到了在观看的食尸者们的人墙上，但他们把他推回福尔得摩特面前。 “稍微暂停一下。”福尔得摩特说，裂口般的鼻孔因兴奋而扩大了起来，“一个小暂停，哈利，那样很痛苦，不是吗？你不想我再那样做，是不是？” 哈利没有回答。那对无情的红眼睛告诉了他，他就要像塞德里克那样死去……他就要死了，他阻挡不了这事的发生……，但他不会向福尔得摩特屈服了，他也不会乞求…… “我问你，是否你想我再那样做一次？”福尔得摩特柔声地说，“回答我！英柏丽欧！” 一生中的第三次，哈利感到他的头脑一片空白……啊，这是多么的快乐，不用去思考……好像他正在漂浮着，做着梦——只是回答“不”……说“不”……口是回乡文“不”…… “我不会，”从他脑后传来一个坚强的声音，我不会回答的…… 只是回答不——我不会那样做，我不会那样说的…… 只是回答不…… “我不会！” 这三个字突然从嘴里冲了出来，在墓地中回响着。梦境突然消失了，就像一盆冷水泼到了他身上，克鲁布尔特斯魔法在他全身上留下的疼痛突然间又出现了，突然间他意识到他正在哪里，他所面对的是什么…… “你不会？“福尔得摩特平静地说，现在那些食尸者们不再笑了。”你不会说’不‘？哈利，服从是一种美德，在你死亡之前我需要教会你……也许是另外一番疼痛吧？“ 福尔得摩特举起了他的魔杖，但这次哈利有准备了，来源于他的快迪斯训练的反应，他闪到了一旁，他滚到了福尔提摩特父亲的大理石墓头石后面，他听到魔咒打中石头的嘛啪声。 “哈利，我们不是在玩捉迷藏。”这是福尔提摩特平静的、冷酷的声音，当食尸者们笑起来，这声音越来越近了。“你躲不了我的。 这是否表示你已经厌倦我们的决斗了？哈利，这是否表示你想我现在结束这场决斗？哈利，出来——出来决斗，接着……那会很快的……那甚至将会毫无痛苦——但我不知道……我没有死过……“ 哈利蹲伏在墓头石后面，一切都将结束了。没有任何希望，得不到任何帮助。当他听到福尔得摩特仍在靠近时，他只知道一件事——没有恐惧和理由——他不会像一个小孩玩捉迷藏那样蹲在这里死去，他也不会跪在福尔得摩特的脚下死去……他要像他父亲那样直立着死去，他要进行反抗，即使任何反抗都是没有用…… 福尔提摩特蛇般的脸还没有绕到墓头石的背后，哈利已经站了起来。他把魔杖紧紧握在手中，刺向前方，跳出墓头石，面对着福尔得摩特。 福尔得摩特已经准备好了，当哈利喊：“解除武装！”时，福尔提摩特也叫道：“杀！” 当一束红光从哈利魔杖中喷出时，福尔得摩特的魔杖也射出了一束绿光，他们在空中相遇。突然，哈利的魔杖振动了起来，好像有一阵电流传过来。但他的手仍紧握着它，只要他愿意他就不会放开它。一束狭窄的光柱连接着两把魔杖，不是红色也不是绿色。但是很明亮，是深深的金黄色。哈利惊讶地注视着这道光柱，沿着哈利光柱看到了福尔得摩特又长又白的手指也紧握着魔杖，那魔杖也在振动着。 接着，在哈利毫无准备的情况下，他感到他的脚离开了地面。 他和福尔得摩特两个人都升到了空中，他们的魔杖仍被那束闪烁的金黄色的光柱相连着。他们在滑离福尔得摩特父亲的墓石，最后停在了一块干净的、没有坟墓的地上。那些食尸者们叫喊着，他们在向福尔得摩特请求指示，他们，在哈利和福尔得摩特周围重新形成了一个包围圈。蛇在他们的脚后跟上滑动，他们中有些人在拔出他们的魔杖。 连接哈利和福尔得摩特的金黄色的光柱在分裂：魔杖仍连在一起，上千道光构成的分支在他们高处形成弧线，在他们周围交叉成十字状，直到他们被围在一个金黄色的、圆形的网中，形成一个光线的笼子。外面的食尸者们像一群胡狼那样围住，奇怪的是他们的叫喊声变得模糊了。 “别管我们。”福尔得摩特对食尸者们尖叫道，哈利看到他对所发生的一切感到很惊讶，他的眼睛不由张得更大了，他正企图把仍然连着他和哈利魔杖的光柱打碎。哈利赶忙用双手把魔杖握得更紧一些。金黄色的光柱仍然完好如初。“什么也不要做，除非我命令你们！”福尔得摩特对食尸者们喊道。 忽然，空中响起了一阵神秘、优美的声音，这声音来自用光线纺成的网上的每一小段光线中，在哈利和福尔得摩特周围回响着。 哈利认得出这种声音，虽然他以前只听过一次……多么优美的歌声…… 这是哈利的希望之声，是他一生中所听到的最优美最令人高兴的声音。他感到这声音不仅在他周围响起，而且钻进他身体里面去了。这声音使他和福尔得摩特连接在一起，就好像一位朋友在他的耳边细语。 “不要断开连接的光柱。” 我知道，哈利对那声音说，我知道我必须不……但他才一这样想，形势就变得糟糕了。他的魔杖比刚才震动得更厉害了，他和福尔得摩特之间的光柱也发生了变化。好像有许多大光珠在魔杖之间的光柱上来回滑动，当那些光珠开始慢慢、稳定滑行的时候，哈利感到他手中的魔杖震动了一下。现在光珠从福尔得摩特开始向他这边运动过来，他感到他的魔杖在愤怒的震动。 当第一个光珠越来越接近哈利魔杖的顶端时，他手中原木的温度变得非常高，他担心它会着火烧了起来。光珠走得更近，哈利的魔杖就震动得越厉害。他确信再这样下去，他的魔杖肯定承受不了，它好像就要在他手中变得粉碎了。 他集中起他的每一份精神，逼迫着光珠向福尔提摩待那边滑动，他的耳朵中充满了优美的歌声，他的眼睛狂怒的凝视着……慢慢地、慢慢地，光珠震动着停了下来；接着，也是慢慢地，它开始向另一个方向运动了起来。现在，福尔得摩特的魔杖开始剧烈地震动起来了。福尔得摩特看起来很惊讶，甚至是恐惧…… 离福尔得摩特魔杖几英寸的地方，有一个光珠在震动着。哈利不明白他为什么会这样做，也不知道这样做有什么用。但他却集中起精神——他以前从未这样做过——迫使那个光珠进入到福尔得摩特的魔杖中去。慢慢地、慢慢地，它沿着金黄色的光柱移动了起来，它震动了一会儿，最后终于到达了。 立即，福尔得摩特的魔杖发出痛苦的尖叫喊声，这声音不断回响着。福尔得摩特吃惊的红眼睛不由张大了起来——一只冒烟的手从魔杖的顶端飘了出来，接着消失了——这是被他砍断的温太尔的手的鬼魂。这时响起了更多的痛苦的叫喊声，一个更大的东西开始从福尔得摩特魔杖的顶部冒了出来，那是一个看起来好像由最坚实、最浓密的烟做成的灰色的大东西……那是一个人头……接着是胸部和胳膊……那是塞德里克。迪格端的躯体。 如果哈利因惊讶而放开他的魔杖，一切都将至此结束。但本能使他紧紧握住他的魔杖，于是那金黄色的光柱仍保持着完整无缺。 即使塞德里克。迪格瑞浓浓的灰色的灵魂（那是灵魂吗？看起来坚硬如固体。）全部从福尔得摩特魔杖的末端涌现了出来，好像他是从一个非常狭窄的隧道中挤了出来。塞德里克的这个影子站了起来，上下看了看金黄色的光柱，开口说起话来。 “哈利，坚持下去。”他说。 他的声音好像从远处传来，在空中回响着。哈利看了看福尔得摩特——他那张大的红眼睛仍然显示出惊讶，他和哈利一样并没有想到会发生这些事情。朦朦胧胧地，哈利听到了食尸者们惊恐的叫喊声，他们在这个金黄色的圆形的周围徘徊。 魔杖中传出了更多痛苦的叫喊声，接着另外一个东西从它的顶部出现了——这是另外一个人头的影子，紧跟着胳膊和其他躯体也出现了——这是一个老人，哈利曾在梦中看见过他，现在他同刚才的塞德里克一样，正用力把自己从魔杖顶部挤出来……他的灵魂，或是他的影子，或是其他什么东西，掉在了塞德里克的旁边，观察着哈利和福尔得摩特以及金黄色的网和被光柱连在一直的魔杖。他靠在他的拐杖上，并没有显出十分吃惊的样子…… “他是一名真正的巫师，是吗？”那位老人说，眼睛看着福尔得摩特。“就是那人杀了我，孩子，战胜他。” 这时，另外一个人头已经出现了。这个人头灰灰的如同～个雕像，它是一个女的人头……哈利看到她掉到地面上，像其他人一样站了起来，注视着。哈利虽然尽力握紧他的魔杖，但两臂还是不住地发抖…… “别放手！”她叫道，她的声音如同塞德里克的一样在空中回响着，好像从远处传来。“不要让他打败你，哈利。不要放手！” 她和另外两个黑影子开始走动了起来，沿着金黄色的网墙的内侧，而食尸者们绕着墙外侧跳跃着。那些被福尔得摩特杀死的受害者，在决斗者周围转着圈，他们边走边低声的说话，对哈利的是鼓励的话，而对福尔得摩特发出嘶嘶的声音。但不让哈利听到。 这时福尔得摩特的魔杖出现了另外一个人头，当哈利看到他时就知道他将是谁。自从塞德里克从那个魔杖出现之后，哈利就好像一直在等着他出现。他知道他将是谁，因为这个要出现的男人是他每个晚上都会想起的。 这是一个高大的男人，烟雾般的影子上的头发很杂乱，他像珀茜那样掉在地面上，站了起来，看着哈利。哈利往回看着他父亲鬼魂般的脸，胳膊抖得更厉害了。 “你母亲就要来了……”他平静地说，“她想看看你，很快就会好的了，坚持下去。” 她来了……开始是她的头，接着是她的身体……一位披着长发的年青妇女——有着莉莉。波特烟雾般的外形——从福尔得库特的魔杖末端涌现了出来。她像她丈夫那样，掉在了地上，但站了起来。她走近哈利，低头看看他，她说话的声音与其他人一样，好像从远处传来，不断回响着，但是悄悄地，于是福尔得摩特听不见。 福尔得摩特被他的受害者所围住，他的脸现在是又愤怒又恐惧。 “当光柱断开后，我们将只能停留一会儿。但我们会给你争取时间。你必须去到波奇那里，它会带你回到霍格瓦彻。明白吗，哈利？” “是！”哈利喘气着说，正尽力握紧他的魔杖——魔杖正在他手指中滑动。 “哈利，”塞德里克的影子低声说道，“把我的尸体带回去，好吗？把我的尸体带回给我的父母……” “我会的。”哈利答道，他正鼓足力气握紧魔杖。 “现在放手。”他父亲低声说，“准备好逃走，现在放手……” “现在！”哈利喊道，他不知道他还能坚持多久。他把魔杖猛然一扭，抛到了空中。于是金黄色的光柱断开了，光线形成的笼子消失了，优美的歌声也逝去了，但福尔得摩特的受害者的灵魂却没有消失，他们靠近福尔得摩特挡住他，不让他看到哈利。 哈利以一生中最快的速度跑着，当他经过时撞倒了两个在一旁发愣的食尸者们。他在墓头石背后曲折地跑着，感觉到食尸者们的魔咒紧跟着他，他听到了它们击在了墓头五上。他巧妙地躲避着魔咒和墓头石，匆匆奔向塞得里克的尸体。他现在已感觉不到他小腿的疼痛了，他全部的注意力都集中在他要做些什么。 “击昏地。”他听到了福尔得摩特的尖叫声。 在离魔咒十英尺的地方，哈利为了躲避射出的红光，从一块大理石背后俯冲而出，那大理五角被魔力击的粉碎。握紧魔杖，他从角落里突然冲出。 “阻碍！”他呼喊道，猛地举起魔杖对准正在追赶他的食尸者们。 从一声模糊的叫喊声，他判定他至少已经打退他们其中的一个了，但他没有时间回头看一下。当听到背后有更多魔杖在猛烈射出时，他跳过奖杯，俯冲过去，当他往下跳时，许许多多的光柱从他头顶飞过，他伸出手抓住了塞德里克的胳膊…… “闪开，我要杀了他，他是我的！”福尔得摩特尖叫道。 哈利的手已经抓住了塞德里克的手腕，他和福尔得摩特之间隔着一块墓碑，但塞德里克太重了，他搬不动他，而且他也拿不到奖杯。 福尔得摩特的红眼睛在黑暗中闪闪发光，哈利看到他的嘴微笑着，举起了他的魔杖。 “阿西欧。”哈利喊道，把他的魔杖指向奖杯。 它升到了空中，向他飞了过来。哈利抓住了它的柄。 他听到了福尔得摩特愤怒的尖叫声，与此同时他感到那个家伙已被抛到了背后，波奇已经开始运作了。它使他在旋转的风中不断加速还能同时带着塞德里克……他们正在回去…… |
Chapter 33 The Death Eaters Voldemort looked away from Harry and began examining his own body. His hands were like large, pale spiders; his long white fingers caressed his own chest, his arms, his face; the red eyes, whose pupils were slits, like a cats, gleamed still more brightly through the darkness. He held up his hands and flexed the fingers, his expression rapt and exultant. He took not the slightest notice of Wormtail, who lay twitching and bleeding on the ground, nor of the great snake, which had slithered back into sight and was circling Harry again, hissing. Voldemort slipped one of those unnaturally long-fingered hands into a deep pocket and drew out a wand. He caressed it gently too; and then he raised it, and pointed it at Wormtail, who was lifted off the ground and thrown against the headstone where Harry was tied; he fell to the foot of it and lay there, crumpled up and crying. Voldemort turned his scarlet eyes upon Harry, laughing a high, cold, mirthless laugh. Wormtail's robes were shining with blood now; he had wrapped the stump of his arm in them. “My Lord…” he choked, “my Lord…you promised…you did promise…” “Hold out your arm,” said Voldemort lazily. “Oh Master…thank you, Master…” He extended the bleeding stump, but Voldemort laughed again. “The other arm, Wormtail.” “Master, please…please…” Voldemort bent down and pulled out Wormtail's left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail's robes up past his elbow, and Harry saw something upon the skin there, something like a vivid red tattoo - a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth - the image that had appeared in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup: the Dark Mark. Voldemort examined it carefully, ignoring Wormtail's uncontrollable weeping. “It is back,” he said softly, “they will all have noticed it…and now, we shall see…now we shall know…” He pressed his long white forefinger to the brand on Wormtail's arm. The scar on Harry's forehead seared with a sharp pain again, and Wormtail let out a fresh howl; Voldemort removed his fingers from Wormtail's mark, and Harry saw that it had turned jet black. A look of cruel satisfaction on his face, Voldemort straightened up, threw back his head, and stared around at the dark graveyard. “How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?” he whispered, his gleaming red eyes fixed upon the stars. “And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?” He began to pace up and down before Harry and Wormtail, eyes sweeping the graveyard all the while. After a minute or so, he looked down at Harry again, a cruel smile twisting his snakelike face. “You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father,” he hissed softly. “A Muggle and a fool…very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child…and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death.…” Voldemort laughed again. Up and down he paced, looking all around him as he walked, and the snake continued to circle in the grass. “You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was.…He didn't like magic, my father… “He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born. Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage…but I vowed to find him…I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name…Tom Riddle.…” Still he paced, his red eyes darting from grave to grave. “Listen to me, reliving family history…” he said quietly, “why, I am growing quite sentimental.…But look, Harry! My true family returns.…” The air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks. Between graves, behind the yew tree, in every shadowy space, wizards were Apparating. All of them were hooded and masked. And one by one they moved forward…slowly, cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their eyes Voldemort stood in silence, waiting for them. Then one of the Death Eaters fell to his knees, crawled toward Voldemort and kissed the hem of his black robes. “Master…Master…” he murmured. The Death Eaters behind him did the same; each of them approaching Voldemort on his knees and kissing his robes, before backing away and standing up, forming a silent circle, which enclosed Tom Riddle's grave, Harry, Voldemort, and the sobbing and twitching heap that was Wormtail. Yet they left gaps in the circle, as though waiting for more people. Voldemort, however, did not seem to expect more. He looked around at the hooded faces, and though there was no wind rustling seemed to run around the circle, as though it had shivered. “Welcome, Death Eaters,” said Voldemort quietly. “Thirteen years…thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday, we are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?” He put back his terrible face and sniffed, his slit-like nostrils widening. “I smell guilt,” he said. “There is a stench or guilt upon the air. A second shiver ran around the circle, as though each member of it longed, but did not dare to step back from him. “I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact - such prompt appearances! and I ask myself…why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?” No one spoke. No one moved except Wormtail, who was upon the ground, still sobbing over his bleeding arm. “And I answer myself,” whispered Voldemort, “they must have believed me broken, they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchment .… “And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living? “And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort…perhaps they now pay allegiance to another…perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?” At the mention of Dumbledore's name, the members of the circle stirred, and some muttered and shook their heads. Voldemort ignored them. “It is a disappointment to me…I confess myself disappointed.…” One of the men suddenly flung himself forward, breaking the circle. Trembling from head to foot, he collapsed at Voldemort's feet. “Master!” he shrieked, “Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!” Voldemort began to laugh. He raised his wand. “Crucio!” The Death Eater on the ground writhed and shrieked; Harry was sure the sound must carry to the houses around.…Let the police come, he thought desperately…anyone…anything… Voldemort raised his wand. The tortured Death Eater lay flat upon the ground, gasping. “Get up, Avery,” said Voldemort softly. “Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years…I want thirteen years’ repayment before I forgive you. Wormtail here has paid some of his debt already, have you not, Wormtail?” He looked down at Wormtail, who continued to sob. “You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of your old friends. You deserve this pain, Wormtail. You know that, don't you?” “Yes, Master,” moaned Wormtail, “please. Master…please…” “Yet you helped return me to my body,” said Voldemort coolly, watching Wormtail sob on the ground. “Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me…and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers….” Voldemort raised his wand again and whirled it through the air. A streak of what looked like molten silver hung shining in the wand's wake. Momentarily shapeless, it writhed and then formed itself into a gleaming replica of a human hand, bright as moonlight, which soared downward and fixed itself upon Wormtail's bleeding wrist. Wormtail's sobbing stopped abruptly. His breathing harsh and ragged, he raised his head and stared in disbelief at the silver hand, now attached seamlessly to his arm, as though he were wearing a dazzling glove. He flexed the shining fingers, then, trembling, picked up a small twig on the ground and crushed it into powder. “My Lord,” he whispered. “Master…it is beautiful…thank you…thank you.…” He scrambled forward on his knees and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes. “May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail,” said Voldemort. “No, my Lord…never, my Lord…” Wormtail stood up and took his place in the circle, staring at his powerful new hand, his face still shining with tears. Voldemort now approached the man on Wormtail's right. “Lucius, my slippery friend,” he whispered, halting before him. “I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you present a respectable face. You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe? Yet you never tried to find me, Lucius.…Your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I daresay…but might not your energies have been better directed toward finding and aiding your master?” “My Lord, I was constantly on the alert,” came Lucius Malfoy's voice swiftly from beneath the hood. “Had there been any sign from you, any whisper of your whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately, nothing could have prevented me -” “And yet you ran from my Mark, when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky last summer?” said Voldemort lazily, and Mr. Malfoy stopped talking abruptly. “Yes, I know all about that, Lucius.…You have disappointed me.…I expect more faithful service in the future.” “Of course, my Lord, of course.…You are merciful, thank you.…” Voldemort moved on, and stopped, staring at the space - large enough for two people - that separated Malfoy and the next man. “The Lestranges should stand here,” said Voldemort quietly. “But they are entombed in Azkaban. They were faithful. They went to Azkaban rather than renounce me.…When Azkaban is broken open, the Lestranges will be honored beyond their dreams. The dementors will join us…they are our natural allies…we will recall the banished giants…I shall have all my devoted servants returned to me, and an army of creatures whom all fear.…” He walked on. Some of the Death Eaters he passed in silence, but he paused before others and spoke to them. “Macnair…destroying dangerous beasts for the Ministry of Magic now, Wormtail tells me? You shall have better victims than that soon, Macnair. Lord Voldemort will provide.…” “Thank you, Master…thank you,” murmured Macnair. “And here” - Voldemort moved on to the two largest hooded figures - “we have Crabbe…you will do better this time, will you not, Crabbe? And you, Goyle?” They bowed clumsily, muttering dully. “Yes, Master…” “We will, Master.…” “The same goes for you, Nott,” said Voldemort quietly as he walked past a stooped figure in Mr. Goyles shadow. “My Lord, I prostrate myself before you, I am your most faithful -” “That will do,” said Voldemort. He had reached the largest gap of all, and he stood surveying it with his blank, red eyes, as though he could see people standing there. “And here we have six missing Death Eaters…three dead in my service. One, too cowardly to return…he will pay. One, who I believe has left me forever…he will be killed, of course…and one, who remains my most faithful servant, and who has already reentered my service.” The Death Eaters stirred, and Harry saw their eyes dart sideways at one another through their masks. “He is at Hogwarts, that faithful servant, and it was through his efforts that our young friend arrived here tonight.… “Yes,” said Voldemort, a grin curling his lipless mouth as the eyes of the circle flashed in Harry's direction. “Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call him my guest of honor.” There was a silence. Then the Death Eater to the right of Wormtail stepped forward, and Lucius Malfoy's voice spoke from under the mask. “Master, we crave to know…we beg you to tell us…how you have achieved this…this miracle…how you managed to return to us.…” “Ah, what a story it is, Lucius,” said Voldemort. “And it begins - and ends - with my young friend here.” He walked lazily over to stand next to Harry, so that the eyes of the whole circle were upon the two of them. The snake continued to circle. “You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall?” Voldemort said softly, his red eyes upon Harry, whose scar began to burn so fiercely that he almost screamed in agony. “You all know that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill him. His mother died in the attempt to save him - and unwittingly provided him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen.…I could not touch the boy.” Voldemort raised one of his long white fingers and put it very close to Harry's cheek. “His mother left upon him the traces other sacrifice.…This is old magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook it…but no matter. I can touch him now.” Harry felt the cold tip of the long white finger touch him, and thought his head would burst with the pain. Voldemort laughed softly in his ear, then took the finger away and continued addressing the Death Eaters. “I miscalculated, my friends, I admit it. My curse was deflected by the woman's foolish sacrifice, and it rebounded upon myself. Aaah…pain beyond pain, my friends; nothing could have prepared me for it. I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost…but still, I was alive. What I was, even I do not know…I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality. You know my goal - to conquer death. And now, I was tested, and it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked…for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done it. Nevertheless, I was as powerless as the weakest creature alive, and without the means to help myself…for I had no body, and every spell that might have helped me required the use of a wand.… “I remember only forcing myself, sleeplessly, endlessly, second by second, to exist.…I settled in a faraway place, in a forest, and I waited.…Surely, one of my faithful Death Eaters would try and find me…one of them would come and perform the magic I could not, to restore me to a body…, but I waited in vain.…” The shiver ran once more around the circle of listening Death Eaters. Voldemort let the silence spiral horribly before continuing. “Only one power remained to me. I could possess the bodies of others. But I dared not go where other humans were plentiful, for I knew that the Aurors were still abroad and searching for me. I sometimes inhabited animals - snakes, of course, being my preference - but I was little better off inside them than as pure spirit, for their bodies were ill adapted to perform magic…and my possession of them shortened their lives; none of them lasted long.… “Then…four years ago…the means for my return seemed assured. A wizard - young, foolish, and gullible - wandered across my path in the forest I had made my home. Oh, he seemed the very chance I had been dreaming of…for he was a teacher at Dumbledore's school…he was easy to bend to my will…he brought me back to this country, and after a while, I took possession of his body, to supervise him closely as he carried out my orders. But my plan failed. I did not manage to steal the Sorcerer's Stone. I was not to be assured immortal life. I was thwarted…thwarted, once again, by Harry Potter.…” Silence once more; nothing was stirring, not even the leaves on the yew tree. The Death Eaters were quite motionless, the glittering eyes in their masks fixed upon Voldemort, and upon Harry. “The servant died when I left his body, and I was left as weak as ever I had been,” Voldemort continued. “I returned to my hiding place far away, and I will not pretend to you that I didn't then fear that I might never regain my powers.…Yes, that was perhaps my darkest hour…I could not hope that I would be sent another wizard to possess…and I had given up hope, now, that any of my Death Eaters cared what had become of me.…” One or two of the masked wizards in the circle moved uncomfortably, but Voldemort took no notice. “And then, not even a year ago, when I had almost abandoned hope, it happened at last…a servant returned to me. Wormtail here, who had faked his own death to escape justice, was driven out of hiding by those he had once counted friends, and decided to return to his master. He sought me in the country where it had long been rumored I was hiding…helped, of course, by the rats he met along the way. Wormtail has a curious affinity with rats, do you not, Wormtail? His filthy little friends told him there was a place, deep in an Albanian forest, that they avoided, where small animals like themselves had met their deaths by a dark shadow that possessed them.… “But his journey back to me was not smooth, was it, Wormtail? For, hungry one night, on the edge of the very forest where he had hoped to find me, he foolishly stopped at an inn for some food…and who should he meet there, but one Bertha Jorkins, a witch from the Ministry of Magic. “Now see the way that fate favors Lord Voldemort. This might have been the end of Wormtail, and of my last hope for regeneration. But Wormtail - displaying a presence of mind I would never have expected from him - convinced Bertha Jorkins to accompany him on a nighttime stroll. He overpowered her…he brought her to me. And Bertha Jorkins, who might have ruined all, proved instead to be a gift beyond my wildest dreams…for - with a little persuasion - she became a veritable mine of information. “She told me that the Triwizard Tournament would be played at Hogwarts this year. She told me that she knew of a faithful Death Eater who would be only too willing to help me, if I could only contact him. She told me many things…but the means I used to break the Memory Charm upon her were powerful, and when I had extracted all useful information from her, her mind and body were both damaged beyond repair. She had now served her purpose. I could not possess her. I disposed of her.” Voldemort smiled his terrible smile, his red eyes blank and pitiless. “Wormtail's body, of course, was ill adapted for possession, as all assumed him dead, and would attract far too much attention if noticed. However, he was the able-bodied servant I needed, and, poor wizard though he is, Wormtail was able to follow the instructions I gave him, which would return me to a rudimentary, weak body of my own, a body I would be able to inhabit while awaiting the essential ingredients for true rebirth…a spell or two of my own invention…a little help from my dear Nagini,” Voldemort's red eyes fell upon the continually circling snake, “a potion concocted from unicorn blood, and the snake venom Nagini provided…I was soon returned to an almost human form, and strong enough to travel. “There was no hope of stealing the Sorcerer's Stone anymore, for I knew that Dumbledore would have seen to it that it was destroyed. But I was willing to embrace mortal life again, before chasing immortality. I set my sights lower…I would settle for my old body back again, and my old strength. “I knew that to achieve this - it is an old piece of Dark Magic, the potion that revived me tonight - I would need three powerful ingredients. Well, one of them was already at hand, was it not, Wormtail? Flesh given by a servant.… “My father's bone, naturally, meant that we would have to come here, where he was buried. But the blood of a foe…Wormtail would have had me use any wizard, would you not, Wormtail? Any wizard who had hated me…as so many of them still do. But I knew the one I must use, if I was to rise again, more powerful than I had been when I had fallen. I wanted Harry Potters blood. I wanted the blood of the one who had stripped me of power thirteen years ago…for the lingering protection his mother once gave him would then reside in my veins too.… “But how to get at Harry Potter? For he has been better protected than I think even he knows, protected in ways devised by Dumbledore long ago, when it fell to him to arrange the boy's future. Dumbledore invoked an ancient magic, to ensure the boy's protection as long as he is in his relations’ care. Not even I can touch him there.…Then, of course, there was the Quidditch World Cup.…I thought his protection might be weaker there, away from his relations and Dumbledore, but I was not yet strong enough to attempt kidnap in the midst of a horde of Ministry wizards. And then, the boy would return to Hogwarts, where he is under the crooked nose of that Muggle-loving fool from morning until night. So how could I take him? “Why…by using Bertha Jorkins's information, of course. Use my one faithful Death Eater, stationed at Hogwarts, to ensure that the boy's name was entered into the Goblet of Fire. Use my Death Eater to ensure that the boy won the tournament - that he touched the Triwizard Cup first - the cup which my Death Eater had turned into a Portkey, which would bring him here, beyond the reach of Dumbledore's help and protection, and into my waiting arms. And here he is…the boy you all believed had been my downfall.…” Voldemort moved slowly forward and turned to face Harry. He raised his wand. “Crucio!” It was pain beyond anything Harry had ever experienced; his very bones were on fire; his head was surely splitting along his scar; his eyes were rolling madly in his head; he wanted it to end…to black out…to die… And then it was gone. He was hanging limply in the ropes binding him to the headstone of Voldemort's father, looking up into those bright red eyes through a kind of mist. The night was ringing with the sound of the Death Eaters’ laughter. “You see, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that this boy could ever have been stronger than me,” said Voldemort. “But I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry Potter escaped me by a lucky chance. And I am now going to prove my power by killing him, here and now, in front of you all, when there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him. I will give him his chance. He will be allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt which of us is the stronger. Just a little longer, Nagini,” he whispered, and the snake glided away through the grass to where the Death Eaters stood watching. “Now untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his wand.” 福尔得摩特把目光从哈利身上移开，开始检查他自己的身体。 他的手就像硕大、苍白的蜘蛛；他那又长又白的手指轻轻地爱抚着自己的胸膛。手臂和脸；那红色的双眼带着裂开的瞳仁，就像猫眼一样，在黑暗中更加闪亮了。他带着全神贯注而又愉悦的表情举起手，伸展手指。他丝毫都没有注意正躺在地上抽搐着，流着血的温太尔，他也没有留意到那条大蛇，此刻它又滑动着重新进入了哈利的视线，而且再次缠绕着哈利，嘶嘶作响。福尔得摩特那双长着不自然的手指的手滑进了一只深深的口袋里，拿出了一支短杖。他也轻轻地爱抚着这根短杖，然后举了起来并对准温太尔。此刻温太尔正从地上爬起来，扑向哈利被绑住的那块墓碑上。他跌落在碑石脚下，躲在那里一蹶不振，哭了起来。福尔得摩持那深红色的眼睛看着哈利。他发出了一阵高亢而又冷酷的、毫无笑意的笑声。 温太尔的长袍沾上了血而在发亮——原来他把残断的手臂包在了里面。“主人……”他哽咽道，“主人……，你答应过……你的确答应过……” “伸出你的手臂来。”福尔得摩特懒懒地说道。 “噢，主人……谢谢你，主人……” 他递出那淌着血的残肢，但是福尔得摩特又笑了，“温太尔，另外一支手臂。” “主人，求求你……求求你……” 福尔得摩特蹲了下来，拉出温太尔的左手。他把温太尔的长袍的袖子推到肘子上面。哈利看到有一块东西在皮肤上，好像是鲜艳的红色纹身——那是一个骷髅头，嘴里伸出一条蛇——跟快迪斯世界杯的天空中出现过的一模一样：黑色的标志。福尔得摩特无视温太尔不可抑止的抽泣，仔细地审查着。 “它回来了，”他轻轻地说，“他们都肯定注意到了……现在我们会看到……现在我们会知道……” 他把那又长又白的食指按在了温太尔手臂的印记上。 哈利前额上的伤痕像被烈火烧灼一般剧烈的疼痛起来，而温太尔又发出了一阵呼号。福尔得摩特的手指从温太尔身上的印记上移开了，哈利看到它已变得乌黑发亮了。 福尔得摩特脸上浮现出一种残忍的满足的表情。他站直身子，转过头去，环视着漆黑的坟墓。 “有多少人会在感觉到我复活的时候，仍然敢大胆地回来？”他喃喃说道，他的闪亮的红色眼睛凝视着星星。“又有多少人会愚蠢地要离开？” 他开始踱来踱去，这之后哈利和温太尔一直扫视着这个墓。大约过了一分钟，他又向下看着哈利，他那蛇一般的脸被一丝残酷的笑容扭曲了。 “哈利·波特，你正站在我死去的父亲的遗骸上，”他轻轻地说道，“一个十足的傻瓜，……就像你亲爱的母亲一样。但他们都各有用处，对不对？你妈妈为了保护你这个小孩而死去……而我杀死了我爸爸，看见他在死亡中证明他是多么的有用……” 福尔得摩特又笑了起来。他又踱起步来，边走边四处看，那条蛇仍然在草地里盘旋。 “波特，你看到了山上的那座房子了吗？我爸爸以前住在那里。 我妈妈是住在这个村庄里的一个女巫。她爱上了他，但是当我妈妈告诉我爸爸她的真实身份时，他却抛弃了她，他不喜欢魔法，我爸爸……“ “波特，在我还没出生时，我父亲就离开了我母亲，回到他那马格父母亲家里。而我母亲在生我时死去了，把我留下一个马格孤儿院里。但是我发誓要找到他，我要向他报仇，向那个名字叫‘汤姆。理得’的笨蛋报仇。” 他还在踱步，红色的眼睛在坟墓间看来看去。 “听我说，听我重温家庭的过去……”他安静地说，“咦，我变得这么多愁善感了……哈利，快看，我真正的家人回家了……” 顿时斗篷一阵嗖嗖作响。在坟墓间，在紫杉树后，在每一片阴影中，一群食尸者出现了。他们都是戴着头巾和面具，一个接一个地向前走来，慢慢地，小心翼翼地，就好像他们连自己的眼睛也不能相信一样。福尔得摩特静静地站着，等着他们，其中一个食尸者跑了下来，爬向福尔得摩特并亲吻着他那黑袍的褶边。 “主子……主子……”他喃喃道。 随后的食尸者也跟他一样，每一个都跪下爬向福尔得摩特，吻一下他的袍子，然后再退后，站起来，形成一个寂静的圆圈。这个圆圈包围了汤姆。理得的坟墓、哈利、福尔得摩特和那个抽泣着、卷成一团的温太尔，然而他们又在圆圈上留下了空隙，似乎在等更多的人。但福尔得摩特似乎不想等，他环视着那些裹着头巾的脸。 尽管没有风，圆圈中却似乎发出了沙沙声，好像它打了颤一样。 “欢迎你们，食尸者，”福尔得摩特静静地说，“上一次我们见面是在十三年前了，但你们应我的召唤就好像那是昨天的事一样……如今，我们又在黑色标记下重聚了，是不是？” 他又换上了那张可怕的脸，变僵了，他那裂口一般的鼻孔张大了。 “我嗅到了罪恶，”他说道，“空气中弥漫着一片罪恶。” 圆圈又颤动了一下。尽管其中的每个人都渴望，但谁也不敢从他身边走回去。 “我看见了你们所有人，完整而又凉爽，你们的力量完好无缺，你们的出现如此迅速。我问自己，为什么这帮曾经发誓永远效忠的男巫从来都没有帮助过他们的主子？” 没有人说话，也没有人动，除了躺在地上的，仍为他那流血手臂哭泣的温太尔。 “我回答了自己。”福尔得摩特低语道，“他们一定以为我破裂了，以为我消失了。他们溜回我的敌人中间，假称他们是无辜的，是由于无知，由于中了魔法……” “然后我又问自己，他们怎么能相信我不会再起来了呢？他们很久以前就知道我怎样采取行动来防止不能避免的一死，他们在我比任何活着的巫师都强大的日子里，就见证过我的力大无比的呀！” “然后我回答了自己，可能他们确信存在着一个更加巨大的力量，一个甚至可以摧毁黑暗公爵福尔得摩特的力量……，他们可能已效忠于另外一个人……可能是那个普通人的冠军，那个马德布来得人、马格人和艾伯斯。丹伯多？” 一提到丹伯多的名字，圈中的人骚动起来，有些人摇摇头，窃窃私语。 福尔得摩特不理睬他们。“对我来说，这真是件令人失望的事啊……我承认自己感到很失望……” 其中一人突然间从圆圈中跳了出来。他浑身颤抖着，突然倒在福尔得摩特的脚下。 “主人。”他尖叫道，“主人，请宽恕我，请宽恕我们。” 福尔得摩特开始笑了。他举起一短杖：“卡西欧！” 在地上的那个食尸者打着滚，用尖锐的声音呼喊着。哈利肯定这声音会传到附近的房舍里……警察快来吧，他绝望地想着……随便哪个人，随便什么东西都行…… 福尔得摩特举起了他的短杖。那被折磨的食尸者平躺在地上，气喘吁吁。 “艾维里，起来！”福尔得摩特轻声说，“站起来，你请求宽恕？ 我不会宽恕的。我不会忘记的，十三年漫长的岁月，……在我饶了你之前，我要得这十三年的赔偿。温太尔已经偿还了一部分债了，是不是啊，温太尔？“ 他俯视看还在哭泣的温太尔。 “你回来见我，不是出于忠诚，而是出于对老朋友的畏惧。你活该受到这痛苦，温太尔，你清楚的，是不是？” “对，主人，”温太尔呻吟着说，“求求你，主人……求求你。” “但你帮助我回到我的身体里，”福尔得摩特望着在地上哭的温太尔，冷冷地说道：“尽管你不忠实又毫无价值，你还是帮助过我……黑暗公爵福尔得摩特会报答帮助他的人的。” 福尔得摩特又举起了那短杖，把它在空中旋转了一下。在魔杖挥过的地方闪过了一道银光，突然间它又失去了形状，扭动着，形成了一支闪光的人手的复制品。它皎活得如月亮一般，突然间它向下俯冲，安装在温太尔的流着血的手腕上。 温太尔的哭泣骤然停止了。他的呼吸声刺耳又参差不齐。他抬起头，望着那只银手，几乎不敢相信——它平滑地接在他的手臂上，就好像是戴着一双耀眼眩目的手一样。他伸展了一下那闪闪发光的手指，然后颤抖着捡起了地上的一个小树枝，咔嚓一声把它折得粉碎。 “我的主人，”他喃喃道，“主人，这真是太漂亮了……谢谢你……谢谢你……” 他爬向前，吻着福尔得摩特的袍衣边。 “温太尔，希望你的忠诚不要再左右摇摆，三心两意。”福尔得摩特说道。 “噢，主人，绝对不会了，主人……‘” 温太尔站了起来，在圆圈中占了一个位子，盯着看他那有力的新手。他的脸上泪光闪闪。福尔得摩特走近了温太尔右边的那个人。 “露布斯。马尔夫，我狡猾的朋友，”他停在他面前低声说道。 “我听说你还没有放弃老样子，尽管在世人面前你面目可敬。你还准备在马格这烦恼的地方做领头，是吗？克鲁希。尔特斯，但你从没有试过找我……你在快迪斯世界怀上的事迹很有趣，我敢说…… 但如果你把精力放在找寻并帮助你的主人上不是会更好吗？“ “我的主人，我的确经常在留心着，”马尔夫的声音很快从头纱下面传来，“如果有一丝您的踪迹，有一丁点儿关于您下落的耳语，我都会立即来到您身边的，什么也阻止不了我——” “但是当一个忠实的食尸者把我的标志在去年夏天送上天空时，你却逃走了。”福尔得摩特慢慢说道，马尔夫先生顿时停住了。“是啊，马尔夫，我全知道，你让我失望了，我希望今后能有更忠实的效劳。” “当然，我的主人，当然……，你太仁慈了，谢谢你……” 福尔得摩特继续向前走，然后又停下来，看着马尔夫旁边的空位。这位子足够站两个人。 “来斯促。兰斯应该站这里的，”福尔得摩特静静地说，“但他们被埋藏在了阿兹克班，他们是忠实的。他们没有宣布抛弃我，反而去了阿兹克班。当阿兹克班裂开的时候，来斯促。兰斯会得到他们梦想不到的荣誉的。得蒙特也会加入进来，他们是我们天然的同盟……我们会召回被放逐的巨人们……我会让所有献身于我的仆人们回来……” 他继续往前走。 “玛克妮尔……温太尔告诉我，你被魔法部毁了危险的野兽？ 很快你就会有比那更好的牺牲品的，公爵福尔得摩特会提供的……“ “谢谢你，主人……谢谢？”玛克妮尔喃喃说道。 “这里，”福尔得摩特走到两个块头最大的蒙着头巾的人跟前，“是克来伯……这次你会干得更好的，是不是，克来伯？你呢，高尔？” 他们笨拙地鞠了躬，模糊地低声说道：“是的，主人……” “我们会的，主人……” “你也要这样，挪特。”当福尔得摩特走过一个弯腰站在高尔阴影后的人时，他静静地说道。 “我的主人，在你面前，我俯身致敬，我是你最忠实的——” “这就行了。”福尔得摩特说。 他走到了最大的空隙前，用他那空洞、红色的眼睛眺望着，好像他能看到有人站在那儿一样。 “这里我们有6个人不见了……三个在给我效劳时死去了。一个太胆怯了不敢回来……他要付出代价的。一个，我相信，已经永远地离开了我。当然他是会被干掉的。还有一个是我最忠实的仆人，他已经重新加入对我的服务中。” 食尸者们骚动起来。哈利看到，他们正透过面具的侧面，面面相觑。 “那忠实的仆人在霍格瓦彻，正是通过他的努力才使得我们年轻的朋友今天晚上到来……” “对，”福尔得摩特说道。他露齿而笑，卷曲了他那没有嘴唇的嘴。这时众人的视线都望向哈利的方向。“哈利·波特友善地加入到我的重生聚会中来，你们甚至可以把他称作是我的贵宾。” 一片寂静。然后温太尔右边的那个食尸者站了出来，从面具后传来了马尔夫的声音。 “主人，我们渴望知道，……我们请求你告诉我们……你怎么创造这个……这个奇迹的……你怎么想办法回到我们身边的。” “啊，这是个什么样的故事啊，马尔夫，”福尔得摩特说道，“它开始和结束，都跟我这个年轻的朋友有关。” 他慢慢地走向哈利，站在他身旁。众人的眼睛都停留在他们俩身上。那条蛇继续缠绕着。 “当然，你们知道，我曾经被这个男孩毁了，”福尔得摩特轻轻地说道。他的红色眼睛看着哈利，使得他的伤痕剧烈地疼痛起来。 哈利几乎痛苦地尖叫起来。“你们都知道在我失去力量和躯体的那晚，我想杀死他。他母亲企图救他而死去了——无意中给他提供了一种保护，我承认我没有预料到。我接触不了这个孩子。” 福尔得摩特举起一只又长又白的手指，逼近哈利的脸颊，“他母亲给他留下了她牺牲的印迹……这是一种老魔法，我本应记起来。我竟愚蠢得忽视了它……不过没关系，我现在可以接触他了。” 哈利感觉到了正在接触他的那冷冷的手指尖，心里想：我的头会疼得爆裂开来。 福尔得摩特在他的耳边轻叹了几声，移开了手指，然后又继续对那些食尸者说：“朋友们，我承认，我计算错了。我的诅咒因为那愚蠢的妇人的牺牲而转向了，然后又向我弹回来。啊，痛上加痛，我的朋友们，我措手不及。我的身体被撕裂开了，我比不上幽灵，比不上最低下的鬼怪……然而，我还活着。我甚至不知道我究竟是什么。……我，在通向长生不死的路上比谁都走得远。你知道我的目标是——战胜死亡。现在，我正面临考验，我的一两个实验生效了……因为按诅咒我本会被杀死，但我没有。不管怎样，我就像活着的最弱小的生物一样衰弱，而且无法帮助我自己……因为我没有身体，而任何可能帮得上我的咒语都需要一个魔杖。 “我记得只有一次又一次地强迫我自己无眠地、无尽地存在……我落脚在一个很远的地方，一个森林里，并等待着……肯定会有一个我忠实的食尸者会帮助我的……他们中的一个会来施我所不能用的魔法，把我回复到身体中……但我白白地等待……” 听着的那群食尸者们又打了一下颤。福尔得摩特让寂静可怕地盘旋着，然后又出声了，“我蓄积一种力量，那就是占据别人的身体。但我不敢去人多的地方，因为我知道那些奥挪士还在国外找着我。有时我会以动物为居所——当然我偏爱蛇——但是在他们里面我只是比纯粹的游魂好过～点，因为他们的身体不适合施展魔法……并且我的占领缩短了它们的寿命。没有一个活得长命……” “四年以后……我返回的时机似乎到了。一个年轻、愚蠢、容易上当受骗的巫师在我作为家园的森林的小道上游荡。他正是我梦寐以求的机会……因为他是丹伯多学校里的一个教师……他很容易屈从于我……他把我带回了这个国家，不久，我附在他的身体上在他执行我的指令时密切地监督他。但我的计划失败了。我没办法偷到点金石。我无法保证长生不死。我遭受了挫折——再一次被哈利·波特阻碍了。” 又是一阵寂静。什么惊动也没有，连紫杉树的叶子也没发出声音。食尸者一动也不动，他们面具上扑闪扑闪的眼睛盯着福尔得摩特和哈利。 “我离开那仆人身体的时候，他就死了。我又变得和往常一样虚弱了。”福尔得摩特接着说，“我回到遥远的藏身处，不瞒你们说，当时我几乎害怕永远也恢复不了力量了……是啊，那是我最黑暗的时光……我不再指望会再有巫师送上门来……我也不再指望会有食尸者关心我发生了什么事。” 圆圈中的一两个戴面具的男巫不舒服地动了动，但福尔得摩特没有理睬。 “接着，不到一年以前，在我几乎绝望之时，一个仆人终于回到我身边了：温太尔佯装死亡以逃避公正的制裁，被昔日称兄道弟的朋友驱逐，所以又决定回到主人身边。他在谣传我藏身的乡村中找到了我……当然，是通过沿途碰到的老鼠的帮助。温太尔和老鼠有一种奇怪的密切联系，是不是，温太尔？他那肮脏的小朋友告诉他，在阿尔巴尼亚的幽深的树林里，有一个恐怖的地方，在那里，他们那种小动物会因被一个黑影吞噬而死去。…… “但他费了九牛二虎之力才找到我，是不是，温太尔？因为有一天晚上饥饿难忍，他在本希望找到我的森林边上，傻傻地走进一家客栈找东西吃……在那儿，他竟然碰到了魔法部里的一个女巫，——珀茜·佐金斯。 “看看命运是怎样眷顾黑暗公爵福尔得摩特的吧。这晚本应是温太尔的末日，也是我重新复活的最后一线希望。但温太尔——表现出一种我决没有料想到的镇定——他说服了珀茜·佐金斯陪他出去散散步。他战胜了她……他把她带来见我。珀茜·佐金斯本来会摧毁一切的，但却成了我做梦也不敢想的礼物。因为，稍稍一劝说，她就成了一个名副其实的信息库了。” “她告诉我，今年三巫师赛会在霍格瓦彻举行。她告诉我有一个忠实的食尸者巴不得帮助我，只要我联系一下他就行了。她告诉了我好多好多事情……但我用来控制她的记忆符咒太强大了，当我从她身上抽取了所有有用的信息后，她的心智和身体就全毁了。她已经完成使命了。我不能再附在她身上，就处理掉了她。” 福尔得摩特可怕地笑了，红色的眼睛又空洞又残忍。 “当然，温太尔的身体也不适合于依附。假使他死了，如果被看到的话，也会引起更大注意。但是，他是我所需要的健全的仆人。尽管他是个差劲的巫师，但他还是能照我的指令行事。这就能使我有个简单的、衰弱的身体，我可以在里面栖息以等待真正的重生所需要的重复原料……一两个我自己发明的咒语……从我亲爱的南格尼中得到的一点儿帮助，”——福尔得摩特那红色的眼光落到了缠绕不停的蛇身上——“由独角兽血、纳格尼提供的毒蛇液调制而成的一剂药……，很快我就恢复了正常的人形，强壮得可以长途跋涉了。” “不再希望偷点金石了，因为我知道在当那里被破坏以后，丹伯多就会好好照看着的。但我愿意再次有不免一死的生命，在追求不死之前。我放低了眼光……我会重新回到旧身体里，恢复旧有的力量。” “我知道要弄到这个——今晚能使我复活的药剂——这是个很老的黑色魔法——我需要三样强大的配料。嗯，其中一样已经到手了，是不是，温太尔？由一位仆人提供的。” “自然还得有我父亲的骨头，意味着我们得来到这里他埋葬之处。但敌人的血，温太尔曾建议我用随便哪个巫师的，对不对？任何仇恨过我的巫师……现在许多仍这样，但我知道我要用哪个的，如果我想比我垮台时更加强大地复活的话。我想要哈利·波特的血。 我想要十三年前剥夺我力量的那人的血，因为他母亲曾经给他残留的保护，那时也会归属于我……“ “但怎样才能抓住哈利·波特？他已经被很好地保护了起来，甚至出乎我的想象。那是当丹伯多负责安排男孩的未来的时候，丹伯多的保护方法。丹伯多召唤了一种古代巫术，只要他在他亲属照顾下，就能保证其安全。在那儿我甚至还碰不了他……当然，那还有快迪斯世界杯比赛……我想在那儿，离开了他的亲属和丹伯多，他的保护可能会弱些。但我仍不够强壮去在一帮魔法部巫师中间绑架他。但以后，他就会回到霍格瓦彻，在勾鼻子亲马格人的笨蛋眼下度过日夜。那我怎样才能弄到他呢？” “哦……当然是利用珀茜·佐金斯的信息了。利用我驻扎在霍格瓦彻的忠实的食尸者去保证那小孩肯定会进入火杯名单。利用我的食尸者保证让那小孩赢得比赛——首先要他碰三巫师奖杯——我的食尸者已经把它变成了波奇，那将会把他带到这里。丹伯多的保护会鞭长莫及。他就会在我迎接的臂膀中了。他就在这儿——你们曾相信是我的克星的小孩……” 福尔得摩特慢慢地走向前，转身面对着哈利。他举起了魔杖，“阿西欧！” 哈利感受到了前所未有的疼痛。他的骨头像被火烤着，头沿着伤疤撕裂，眼睛疯狂地旋转。他真想一切都结束……快点昏倒…… 快点死掉…… 后来疼痛消失了。他被松松地绑在福尔得摩特父亲的墓碑上，他在一片朦胧中看到那些明亮的红眼睛。黑夜回响着食尸者的笑声。 “你看，要说这小孩曾比我更强大是多蠢的啊！”福尔得摩特说道，“但我想每个人心里都清清楚楚。哈利·波特只是侥幸从我手中逃掉了。现在，在这里，在你们所有人面前，我要杀死他，以证明我的力量。再没有丹伯多帮他了，再没有为他牺牲的母亲了。我会给他机会的，我允许他搏斗。你们会肯定我们两个谁更强大。南格尼，再等一会儿。”他轻声说道。那蛇滑进草丛中，食尸者们正在那里站着观看。 “现在放开他吧，温太尔，给回他他的魔杖。” |
Chapter 32 Flesh,Blood,and Bone Harry felt his feet slam into the ground; his injured leg gave way, and he fell forward; his hand let go of the Triwizard Cup at last. He raised his head. “Where are we?” he said. Cedric shook his head. He got up, pulled Harry to his feet, and they looked around. They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely; they had obviously traveled miles - perhaps hundreds of miles - for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them to their left. Harry could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside. Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at Harry. “Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?” he asked. “Nope,” said Harry. He was looking around the graveyard. It was completely silent and slightly eerie. “Is this supposed to be part of the task?” “I dunno,” said Cedric. He sounded slightly nervous. “Wands out, d'you reckon?” “Yeah,” said Harry, glad that Cedric had made the suggestion rather than him. They pulled out their wands. Harry kept looking around him. He had, yet again, the strange feeling that they were being watched. “Someone's coming,” he said suddenly. Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves. Harry couldn't make out a face, but from the way it was walking and holding its arms, he could tell that it was carrying something. Whoever it was, he was short, and wearing a hooded cloak pulled up over his head to obscure his face. And - several paces nearer, the gap between them closing all the time - Harry saw that the thing in the persons arms looked like a baby…or was it merely a bundle of robes? Harry lowered his wand slightly and glanced sideways at Cedric. Cedric shot him a quizzical look. They both turned back to watch the approaching figure. It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from them. For a second. Harry and Cedric and the short figure simply looked at one another. And then, without warning, Harry's scar exploded with pain. It was agony such as he had never felt in all his life; his wand slipped from his fingers as he put his hands over his face; his knees buckled; he was on the ground and he could see nothing at all; his head was about to split open. From far away, above his head, he heard a high, cold voice say, “Kill the spare.” A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night: “Avada Kedavra!” A blast of green light blazed through Harry's eyelids, and he heard something heavy fall to the ground beside him; the pain in his scar reached such a pitch that he retched, and then it diminished; terrified of what he was about to see, he opened his stinging eyes. Cedric was lying spread-eagled on the ground beside him. He was dead. For a second that contained an eternity, Harry stared into Cedric's face, at his open gray eyes, blank and expressionless as the windows of a deserted house, at his half-open mouth, which looked slightly surprised. And then, before Harry's mind had accepted what he was seeing, before he could feel anything but numb disbelief, he felt himself being pulled to his feet. The short man in the cloak had put down his bundle, lit his wand, and was dragging Harry toward the marble headstone. Harry saw the name upon it flickering in the wandlight before he was forced around and slammed against it. TOM RIDDLE The cloaked man was now conjuring tight cords around Harry, tying him from neck to ankles to the headstone. Harry could hear shallow, fast breathing from the depths of the hood; he struggled, and the man hit him - hit him with a hand that had a finger missing. And Harry realized who was under the hood. It was Wormtail. “You!” he gasped. But Wormtail, who had finished conjuring the ropes, did not reply; he was busy checking the tightness of the cords, his fingers trembling uncontrollably, fumbling over the knots. Once sure that Harry was bound so tightly to the headstone that he couldn't move an inch, Wormtail drew a length of some black material from the inside of his cloak and stuffed it roughly into Harry's mouth; then, without a word, he turned from Harry and hurried away. Harry couldn't make a sound, nor could he see where Wormtail had gone; he couldn't turn his head to see beyond the headstone; he could see only what was right in front of him. Cedric's body was lying some twenty feet away. Some way beyond him, glinting in the starlight, lay the Triwizard Cup. Harry's wand was on the ground at Cedric's feet. The bundle of robes that Harry had thought was a baby was close by, at the foot of the grave. It seemed to be stirring fretfully. Harry watched it, and his scar seared with pain again…and he suddenly knew that he didn't want to see what was in those robes…he didn't want that bundle opened.… He could hear noises at his feet. He looked down and saw a gigantic snake slithering through the grass, circling the headstone where he was tied. Wormtail's fast, wheezy breathing was growing louder again. It sounded as though he was forcing something heavy across the ground. Then he came back within Harry's range of vision, and Harry saw him pushing a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave. It was full of what seemed to be water - Harry could hear it slopping around - and it was larger than any cauldron Harry had ever used; a great stone belly large enough for a full-grown man to sit in. The thing inside the bundle of robes on the ground was stirring more persistently, as though it was trying to free itself. Now Wormtail was busying himself at the bottom of the cauldron with a wand. Suddenly there were crackling names beneath it. The large snake slithered away into the darkness. The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast. The surface began not only to bubble, but to send out fiery sparks, as though it were on fire. Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of Wormtail tending the fire. The movements beneath the robes became more agitated. And Harry heard the high, cold voice again. “Hurry!” The whole surface of the water was alight with sparks now. It might have been encrusted with diamonds. “It is ready. Master.” “Now…” said the cold voice. Wormtail pulled open the robes on the ground, revealing what was inside them, and Harry let out a yell that was strangled in the wad of material blocking his mouth. It was as though Wormtail had flipped over a stone and revealed something ugly, slimy, and blind - but worse, a hundred times worse. The thing Wormtail had been carrying had the shape of a crouched human child, except that Harry had never seen anything less like a child. It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face - no child alive ever had a face like that - flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes. The thing seemed almost helpless; it raised its thin arms, put them around Wormtail's neck, and Wormtail lifted it. As he did so, his hood fell back, and Harry saw the look of revulsion on Wormtail's weak, pale face in the firelight as he carried the creature to the rim of the cauldron. For one moment, Harry saw the evil, flat face illuminated in the sparks dancing on the surface of the potion. And then Wormtail lowered the creature into the cauldron; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface; Harry heard its frail body hit the bottom with a soft thud. Let it drown, Harry thought, his scar burning almost past endurance, please…let it drown.… Wormtail was speaking. His voice shook; he seemed frightened beyond his wits. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke to the night. “Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!” The surface of the grave at Harry's feet cracked. Horrified, Harry watched as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Wormtail's command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue. And now Wormtail was whimpering. He pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs. “Flesh - of the servant - w-willingly given - you will - revive - your master.” He stretched his right hand out in front of him - the hand with the missing finger. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung it upward. Harry realized what Wormtail was about to do a second before it happened - he closed his eyes as tightly as he could, but he could not block the scream that pierced the night, that went through Harry as though he had been stabbed with the dagger too. He heard something fall to the ground, heard Wormtail's anguished panting, then a sickening splash, as something was dropped into the cauldron. Harry couldn't stand to look…but the potion had turned a burning red; the light of it shone through Harry's closed eyelids.… Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony. Not until Harry felt Wormtail's anguished breath on his face did he realize that Wormtail was right in front of him. “B-blood of the enemy…forcibly taken…you will…resurrect your foe.” Harry could do nothing to prevent it, he was tied too tightly….Squinting down, struggling hopelessly at the ropes binding him, he saw the shining silver dagger shaking in Wormtail's remaining hand. He felt its point penetrate the crook of his right arm and blood seeping down the sleeve of his torn robes. Wormtail, still panting with pain, rumbled in his pocket for a glass vial and held it to Harry's cut, so that a dribble of blood fell into it. He staggered back to the cauldron with Harry's blood. He poured it inside. The liquid within turned, instantly, a blinding white. Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing. The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned all else to velvety blackness. Nothing happened.… Let it have drowned. Harry thought, let it have gone wrong… And then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead, obliterating everything in front of Harry, so that he couldn't see Wormtail or Cedric or anything but vapor hanging in the air.…It's gone wrong, he thought…it's drowned …please…please let it be dead.… But then, through the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron. “Robe me,” said the high, cold voice from behind the steam, and Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over his master's head. The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry…and Harry stared back into the face that had haunted his nightmares for three years. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snakes with slits for nostrils… Lord Voldemort had risen again. 哈利感到他的脚重重地摔在地上，他那受伤的腿扭了一下然后向前摔倒了。他放开三巫师争霸赛奖杯，艰难地抬起头。 “我们在哪儿？”他问道。 塞德里克摇了一下头，他站起来把哈利也扶了起来，然后四处张望。他俩已经完全离开了霍格瓦彻的地域。很明显已经走了几十里——也许几百里——因为甚至那些环绕着那座城堡的群山也看不见了。现在他们正站在一座黑夜中的大墓地之前，一株大紫杉树以及更远处的一座小教堂的轮郭依稀可见。一座小山耸立于他们左边。哈利仅仅能依稀辨认出山边一所漂亮的老房子的大致轮廓。 塞德里克低头看一下三巫师赛奖杯，然后又抬起头来看了一下哈利。“有人告诉过你这奖杯是一个波奇吗？”他问哈利。“没有。” 哈利答道，他一边打量着墓地的周围，它是那么死寂，有一点点阴森。“这是不是这次任务的一部分。”他反问塞德里克。 “我不知道。”塞德里克说着。他的声音听起来有点紧张，“把魔杖拿出来，你认为好不好？”“好！”哈利说道，他很高兴塞德里克提出这个建议，而不是他自己。他们抽出了他们的魔杖，哈利一直都在四处张望。他又一次有了他俩正被别人监视的奇怪感觉了。 “有人过来了。”他突然说道。他俩在黑暗中眯着眼睛紧张地看着，看到一个黑影走近，从那些坟墓中间向他们走过来。哈利看不清那张脸，但是从那黑影走路的姿势以及他那抱紧的手臂，可以判断出那黑影正抱着什么东西。看不清他是谁，非常矮小，而且穿著有兜帽的大斗篷蒙住了头也遮住了脸。那黑影又近了几步——当然他们之间的距离一直在缩短——他看到那人怀里抱的东西看上去像一个婴儿……或者那只不过是一堆衣服？ 哈利轻轻地把他的魔杖放低一些，向旁边匆匆瞥了塞德里克一眼。塞德里克也回敬他一个充满疑惑地表情。然后他们都转过身注视那越来越接近的黑影。 那黑影在一个屹立的大理石墓碑旁边停下了。离他们只有六英尺远。哈利、塞德里克和那个矮个黑衣人互相看了一会儿。 然后，哈利的疤痕毫无声息地就痛裂开来。他这辈子从来没有感到如此疼痛过。痛得他不得不用手去捂住，这样也使得他的魔杖掉到了地上。他双腿弯曲，跪到了地上。他什么也看不见，只觉得头痛如裂。 从他头上空，哈利远远地听到一个高而阴冷的声音说到：“杀死那个瘦高个。”一阵沙秒声之后，又一声尖叫划破夜空：“凯得乌尔！” 一束绿光交烁地穿过哈利的眼睑，然后他听到身旁一个重物摔倒到草地上的声音，他那伤痕从未如此痛得让他反胃干呕过，接着那疼痛慢慢减轻了。虽然他害怕将要看到的东西，他还是张开了那双刺痛的眼。 塞德里克四肢张开，倒在他旁边的草地。成一个“大”字，他死了。 眨眼间便是阴阳两界，哈利看着塞德里克的脸，看着他那瞪得大大的灰色的眼睛，空虚得像一幢荒废的老房子窗户似的表情，还有那看上去微微吃惊的半张开的嘴巴。然而，就在他的大脑开始接受所见到的事实之前，就在他刚想摆脱那满脑子的麻木、怀疑与不信之前，他感到自己已经被人拉着站立起来。 那个穿斗篷的小矮人已经放下了他手中的那堆东西，拣起了哈利的魔杖。然后拖着哈利向那大理石墓碑走去。哈利借着魔杖摇曳的微光看清那墓碑上的名字汤姆。理得，然后他就被推转过来，背对着那墓碑。 那穿斗篷的男人施魔法用粗绳捆住哈利，把他绑在那墓碑上。 哈利听到那风帽下轻微但又急促的呼吸声，他奋力挣扎，那男人狠狠地打了他几下——用他那不见了一根手指的手打他。哈利刹那间想起了那风帽下的人是谁——温太尔，“是你！”他气喘喘说道。但是温太尔正忙着给他上绑，他一言不发，忙着检查那绳子绑得紧不紧。他的手指不住地颤抖，触摸着那些绳子上的结。直到温太尔确定哈利已经死死地绑在那墓碑上，一步也不能动，他才从斗篷里拿出一种黑色的东西硬塞到哈利的嘴里。然后，一句话也没说，转身很飞地跑开了。哈利什么都叫不出来，也不能看到温太尔跑往哪里。——他不能转过头去看墓碑后面，他只能看到他正前方的东西。 塞德里克的尸体躺在大约二十英尺远。在他身边，三巫师赛奖杯在星光下闪闪发光。哈利的魔杖就在他脚旁边的草地上。哈利曾以为是婴儿的那堆衣物也在附近，在墓碑脚下。那堆东西好像在烦躁地颤动着。哈利看着它，他的伤口又剧痛起来……他突然意识到他并不想看见那堆衣物中的东西……他不想看到那包东西被打开。 他能听到他脚下的声响。他低头看看。——一条巨蛇正在草间游动。盘绕着哈利绑着的那墓碑游动。温太尔的急促的喘息声又一次响了起来。听起来好像他正推着什么重东西穿过草地。一会儿他就出现在哈利的视野中。现在哈利可以看到原来他正推着一个石头大汽锅向墓碑走过来，那锅里面好像装满了水——哈利从那四处泼溅的声音判断出来的——而且那只汽锅是哈利有生以来见得最大的一只。它大得足可以塞进一个成年男子。 草地上那色衣物里面的东西搅动得更加激烈了，仿佛它正要努力地挣扎出来，现在温太尔自己拿着一根魔杖在大汽锅底正忙着呢。突然，噼啪的火焰就从那锅底冒出了。那条大蛇溜走了，消失在黑暗之中。 那大汽锅里的液体好像很容易加热。液体表面不仅冒出了气泡，而且还进出了火花，好像着火了一样。那斗篷下面的动作变得更加激烈。跟着哈利又听到那又高又冷的嗓音：“快点！”那锅水的整个表面都布满着火花，看上去好似镶上了钻石。“准备好了，主人。”“现在开始……”那冷酷的声音响起。温太尔拉开草地那包衣物，显露出里面的东西。哈利发出了一声叫喊——可惜被他嘴里的那堆东西阻塞住了。 好像温太尔拿出了一颗石头，然后就显露出一个丑陋的、卑劣的、愚昧的但更加糟糕，而且糟糕上一百倍的东西。那东西有着屈着膝的人类孩子的外形。但哈利从没见到过什么东西这么不像孩子的——它没有头发，而且表面有鳞片。它的背是裸露的，黑红色。 它的胳膊和双腿又瘦又脆弱，而且它的脸——决没有孩子有那样的一张脸——扁平的，蛇头一样，而且还有一双闪烁不定的红眼睛。 那小东西看上去是那么的无助，它抬起它那细小的手臂，绕住温太尔的脖子。温太尔抱起了它。就在这时，它的风帽掉到了后面，当他抱着这小东西走到大汽锅边缘的时候，借着火光，哈利看到了温太尔那瘦削苍白的脸上厌恶的表情。过了一会儿，哈利看到小东西那张邪恶扁平的脸在那水面上跳动闪烁的火花中烟烟发光。 然后温太尔就把那小东西放入了锅里。嘶嘶声远远传来，接着那东西就从水面消失了。哈利听到了它那弱小的身体撞到锅底的轻声。 “淹死它吧，”哈利心里期待着，他的伤口火燎燎地痛，他几乎忍受不住了，“拜托……淹死它吧……” 温太尔嘴里念念有词。他的声音颤抖着。他看上去被这超出智慧之外的生物吓坏了。他举起了他的魔杖，闭上双眼，对着夜空喊道：“父亲的铮骨啊，无限的给予，给你的儿子一个重生的机会吧！” 哈利脚下的墓地裂了。惊骇万分的哈利看到一股漂亮的灰尘在温太尔的咒语操纵下升到了空中，又轻轻地掉进了锅里。钻石般的水面裂开了。嘶嘶作响。火星四溅。水面变成了鲜亮、毒药般的深蓝色。 现在温太尔开始低声呜咽了，他从他衣服里面，拔出了一把又长又窄，明亮的银剑。他的声音又变成了僵死的暖泣了。“仆人的肌肉啊，自愿的给予，给你的主人一个重生的机会吧！” 他伸出他的右手——那只少了根指头的手。他左手紧紧握住那把银剑，然后向前挥舞。哈利意识到温太尔将要做的事不到一秒钟便发生了。——他死死地闭上双眼。但是他却不能阻挡住那刺破夜空的惊叫。那叫喊穿过哈利的耳膜，就好似他也被那银剑刺穿。接着他听到什么东西倒在地上。听到温太尔那痛苦的喘息，然后是一声令人作呕的泼溅声。好似什么东西掉进了那锅里。哈利忍不住看过去……但是那锅水已变成了火红色。它那耀眼的光芒穿透了哈利双眼…… 温太尔大口地喘气，又痛苦地呻吟。直到哈利感觉到温太尔那痛苦的呼吸吹到他的脸上，他才发现温太尔正站在他的正前方。 “敌人的鲜血啊……通过武力征服而来……你将……让你的对手复活……” 哈利对此无能为力，他被绑得太紧了……他向下瞥了一眼，绝望地在绳子里挣扎，他看见那把明晃晃的短剑在温太尔的手中晃动着。然后他就感觉到那剑尖刺入了他右手手臂弯曲处。鲜血从他破烂的衣服里不断淌出。仍不断痛苦喘息的温太尔从身上口袋里摸出一个小玻璃药瓶，并伸到哈利的伤口处。一大滴鲜血病进了瓶中。 他拿着哈利的鲜血蹒跚地走回大石气锅旁。把血倒进里面。那液体不断地变化，最后变成了空虚的白色。温太尔精疲力尽地跪倒在那汽锅旁，好似他的工作已做完。然后他向一旁倒下去，躺在草地上，不住地喘气和呜咽，紧握住他手臂上流血的地方。 那汽锅慢慢地沸腾，又是火星四射。其它就没什么变化了…… “把它淹死……”哈利心里祈祷着，“让整件事都出错。” 然后，汽锅里的火星突然都熄灭了。取而代之的是巨大的一股白色烟雾。将哈利面前的所有东西都遮盖住了。他看不见温太尔或者塞德里克，他眼中有的只是空气中悬浮的蒸汽……“它出错了，” 他想道，“……那怪物被淹死了……拜托……求求上帝让它死掉吧……” 然后，透过他前面的浓雾，哈利心中惊恐万分，他看到了一个人的黑色轮廓，又高又瘦，慢慢地从汽锅里面向上升起。 “给我穿上衣服！”一个高而冷的声音从雾后面响起。温太尔虽然还在呜咽与呻吟，但还是摇着伤口，爬着拣起了草地上那堆黑色衣服。然后摇摇晃晃站起身来，掂起脚尖，用一只手把衣服套进他主人的头上。 那瘦高个走出了汽锅，紧盯着哈利……哈利也瞪着那张让他被恶梦困扰三年的丑恶的脸——比头盖骨还苍白的脸，大大的黑红色的眼睛，像蛇鼻一样扁平的鼻子，鼻孔还有许多裂口…… 福尔得摩特公爵又复活了。 |
Chapter 31 The Third Task “Dumbledore reckons You-Know-Who's getting stronger again as well?” Ron whispered. Everything Harry had seen in the Pensieve, nearly everything Dumbledore had told and shown him afterward, he had now shared with Ron and Hermione - and, of course, with Sirius, to whom Harry had sent an owl the moment he had left Dumbledore's office. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat up late in the common room once again that night, talking it all over until Harry's mind was reeling, until he understood what Dumbledore had meant about a head becoming so full of thoughts that it would have been a relief to siphon them off. Ron stared into the common room fire. Harry thought he saw Ron shiver slightly, even though the evening was warm. “And he trusts Snape?” Ron said. “He really trusts Snape, even though he knows he was a Death Eater?” “Yes,” said Harry. Hermione had not spoken for ten minutes. She was sitting with her forehead in her hands, staring at her knees. Harry thought she too looked as though she could have done with a Pensieve. “Rita Skeeter,” she muttered finally. “How can you be worrying about her now?” said Ron, in utter disbelief. “I'm not worrying about her,” Hermione said to her knees. “I'm just thinking…remember what she said to me in the Three Broomsticks? ‘I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl. ’ This is what she meant, isn't it? She reported his trial, she knew he'd passed information to the Death Eaters. And Winky too, remember…'Ludo Bagman's a bad wizard.’ Mr. Crouch would have been furious he got off, he would have talked about it at home.” “Yeah, but Bagman didn't pass information on purpose, did he?” Hermione shrugged. “And Fudge reckons Madame Maxime attacked Crouch?” Ron said, turning back to Harry. “Yeah,” said Harry, “but he's only saying that because Crouch disappeared near the Beauxbatons carriage.” “We never thought of her, did we?” said Ron slowly. “Mind you, she's definitely got giant blood, and she doesn't want to admit it-” “Of course she doesn't,” said Hermione sharply, looking up. “Look what happened to Hagrid when Rita found out about his mother. Look at Fudge, jumping to conclusions about her, just because she's part giant. Who needs that sort of prejudice? I'd probably say I had big bones if I knew that's what I'd get for telling the truth.” Hermione looked at her watch. “We haven't done any practicing!” she said, looking shocked. “We were going to do the Impediment Curse! We'll have to really get down to it tomorrow! Come on. Harry, you need to get some sleep.” Harry and Ron went slowly upstairs to their dormitory. As Harry pulled on his pajamas, he looked over at Neville's bed. True to his word to Dumbledore, he had not told Ron and Hermione about Neville's parents. As Harry took off his glasses and climbed into his four-poster, he imagined how it must feel to have parents still living but unable to recognize you. He often got sympathy from strangers for being an orphan, but as he listened to Neville's snores, he thought that Neville deserved it more than he did. Lying in the darkness, Harry felt a rush of anger and hate toward the people who had tortured Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom.…He remembered the jeers of the crowd as Crouch's son and his companions had been dragged from the court by the dementors.…He understood how they had felt.…Then he remembered the milk-white face of the screaming boy and realized with a jolt that he had died a year later.… It was Voldemort, Harry thought, staring up at the canopy of his bed in the darkness, it all came back to Voldemort.…He was the one who had torn these families apart, who had ruined all these lives.… Ron and Hermione were supposed to be studying for their exams, which would finish on the day of the third task, but they were putting most of their efforts into helping Harry prepare. “Don't worry about it,” Hermione said shortly when Harry pointed this out to them and said he didn't mind practicing on his own for a while, “at least we'll get top marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts. We'd never have found out about all these hexes in class.” “Good training for when we're all Aurors,” said Ron excitedly, attempting the Impediment Curse on a wasp that had buzzed into the room and making it stop dead in midair. The mood in the castle as they entered June became excited and tense again. Everyone was looking forward to the third task, which would take place a week before the end of term. Harry was practicing hexes at every available moment. He felt more confident about this task than either of the others. Difficult and dangerous though it would undoubtedly be, Moody was right: Harry had managed to find his way past monstrous creatures and enchanted barriers before now, and this time he had some notice, some chance to prepare himself for what lay ahead. Tired of walking in on Harry, Hermione, and Ron all over the school. Professor McGonagall had given them permission to use the empty Transfiguration classroom at lunchtimes. Harry had soon mastered the Impediment Curse, a spell to slow down and obstruct attackers; the Reductor Curse, which would enable him to blast solid objects out of his way; and the Four-Point Spell, a useful discovery of Hermione's that would make his wand point due north, therefore enabling him to check whether he was going in the right direction within the maze. He was still having trouble with the Shield Charm, though. This was supposed to cast a temporary, invisible wall around himself that deflected minor curses; Hermione managed to shatter it with a well-placed Jelly-Legs Jinx, and Harry wobbled around the room for ten minutes afterward before she had looked up the counter-jinx. “You're still doing really well, though,” Hermione said encouragingly, looking down her list and crossing off those spells they had already learned. “Some of these are bound to come in handy.” “Come and look at this,” said Ron, who was standing by the window. He was staring down onto the grounds. “What's Malfoy doing?” Harry and Hermione went to see. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing in the shadow of a tree below. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be keeping a lookout; both were smirking. Malfoy was holding his hand up to his mouth and speaking into it. “He looks like he's using a walkie-talkie,” said Harry curiously. “He can't be,” said Hermione, “I've told you, those sorts of things don't work around Hogwarts. Come on, Harry,” she added briskly, turning away from the window and moving back into the middle of the room, “let's try that Shield Charm again.” Sirius was sending daily owls now. Like Hermione, he seemed to want to concentrate on getting Harry through the last task before they concerned themselves with anything else. He reminded Harry in every letter that whatever might be going on outside the walls of Hogwarts was not Harry's responsibility, nor was it within his power to influence it. If Voldemort is really getting stronger again, he wrote, my priority is to ensure your safety. He cannot hope to lay hands on you while you are under Dumbledore's protection, but all the same, take no risks: Concentrate on getting through that maze safely, and then we can turn our attention to other matters. Harry's nerves mounted as June the twenty-fourth drew closer, but they were not as bad as those he had felt before the first and second tasks. For one thing, he was confident that, this time, he had done everything in his power to prepare for the task. For another, this was the final hurdle, and however well or badly he did, the tournament would at last be over, which would be an enormous relief. * * * * * * Breakfast was a very noisy affair at the Gryffindor table on the morning of the third task. The post owls appeared, bringing Harry a good-luck card from Sirius. It was only a piece of parchment, folded over and bearing a muddy paw print on its front, but Harry appreciated it all the same. A screech owl arrived for Hermione, carrying her morning copy of the Daily Prophet as usual. She unfolded the paper, glanced at the front page, and spat out a mouthful of pumpkin juice all over it. “What?” said Harry and Ron together, staring at her. “Nothing,” said Hermione quickly, trying to shove the paper out of sight, but Ron grabbed it. He stared at the headline and said, “No way. Not today. That old cow.” “What?” said Harry. “Rita Skeeter again?” “No,” said Ron, and just like Hermione, he attempted to push the paper out of sight. “It's about me, isn't it?” said Harry. “No,” said Ron, in an entirely unconvincing tone. But before Harry could demand to see the paper. Draco Malfoy shouted across the Great Hall from the Slytherin table. “Hey, Potter! Potter! How's your head? You feeling all right? Sure you're not going to go berserk on us?” Malfoy was holding a copy of the Daily Prophet too. Slytherins up and down the table were sniggering, twisting in their seats to see Harry's reaction. “Let me see it,” Harry said to Ron. “Give it here.” Very reluctantly, Ron handed over the newspaper. Harry turned it over and found himself staring at his own picture, beneath the banner headline: “HARRY POTTER” “DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS” The boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is unstable and possibly dangerous, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Alarming evidence has recently come to light about Harry Potter's strange behavior, which casts doubts upon his suitability to compete in a demanding competition like the Triwizard Tournament, or even to attend Hogwarts School. Potter, the Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal, regularly collapses at school, and is often heard to complain of pain in the scar on his forehead (relic of the curse with which You-Know-Who attempted to kill him). On Monday last, midway through a Divination lesson, your Daily Prophet reporter witnessed Potter storming from the class, claiming that his scar was hurting too badly to continue studying. It is possible, say top experts at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, that Potters brain was affected by the attack inflicted upon him by You-Know-Who, and that his insistence that the scar is still hurting is an expression of his deep-seated confusion. “He might even be pretending,” said one specialist. “This could be a plea for attention.” The Daily Prophet, however, has unearthed worrying facts about Harry Potter that Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, has carefully concealed from the wizarding public. “Potter can speak Parseltongue,” reveals Draco Malfoy, a Hogwarts fourth year. “There were a lot of attacks on students a couple of years ago, and most people thought Potter was behind them after they saw him lose his temper at a dueling club and set a snake on another boy. It was all hushed up, though. But he's made friends with werewolves and giants too. We think he'd do anything for a bit of power.” Parseltongue, the ability to converse with snakes, has long been considered a Dark Art. Indeed, the most famous Parselmouth of our times is none other than You-Know-Who himself. A member of the Dark Force Defense League, who wished to remain unnamed, stated that he would regard any wizard who could speak Parseltongue “as worthy of investigation. Personally, I would be highly suspicious of anybody who could converse with snakes, as serpents are often used in the worst kinds of Dark Magic, and are historically associated with evildoers.” Similarly, “anyone who seeks out the company of such vicious creatures as werewolves and giants would appear to have a fondness for violence.” Albus Dumbledore should surely consider whether a boy such as this should be allowed to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Some fear that Potter might resort to the Dark Arts in his desperation to win the tournament, the third task of which takes place this evening. “Gone off me a bit, hasn't she?” said Harry lightly, folding up the paper. Over at the Slytherin table, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were laughing at him, tapping their heads with their fingers, pulling grotesquely mad faces, and waggling their tongues like snakes. “How did she know your scar hurt in Divination?” Ron said. “There's no way she was there, there's no way she could've heard -” “The window was open,” said Harry. “I opened it to breathe.” “You were at the top of North Tower!” Hermione said. “Your voice couldn't have carried all the way down to the grounds!” “Well, you're the one who's supposed to be researching magical methods of bugging!” said Harry. “You tell me how she did it!” “I've been trying!” said Hermione. “But I…but…” An odd, dreamy expression suddenly came over Hermione's face. She slowly raised a hand and ran her fingers through her hair. “Are you all right?” said Ron, frowning at her. “Yes,” said Hermione breathlessly. She ran her fingers through her hair again, and then held her hand up to her mouth, as though speaking into an invisible walkie-talkie. Harry and Ron stared at each other. “I've had an idea,” Hermione said, gazing into space. “I think I know…because then no one would be able to see…even Moody…and she'd have been able to get onto the window ledge…but she's not allowed…she's definitely not allowed…I think we've got her! Just give me two seconds in the library - just to make sure!” With that, Hermione seized her school bag and dashed out of the Great Hall. “Oi!” Ron called after her. “We've got our History of Magic exam in ten minutes! Blimey,” he said, turning back to Harry, “she must really hate that Skeeter woman to risk missing the start of an exam. What're you going to do in Binns's class - read again?” Exempt from the end-of-term tests as a Triwizard champion, Harry had been sitting in the back of every exam class so far, looking up fresh hexes for the third task. “S'pose so,” Harry said to Ron; but just then. Professor McGonagall came walking alongside the Gryffindor table toward him. “Potter, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast,” she said. “But the task's not till tonight!” said Harry, accidentally spilling scrambled eggs down his front, afraid he had mistaken the time. “I'm aware of that, Potter,” she said. “The champions’ families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them.” She moved away. Harry gaped after her. “She doesn't expect the Dursleys to turn up, does she?” he asked Ron blankly. “Dunno,” said Ron. “Harry, I'd better hurry, I'm going to be late for Binns. See you later.” Harry finished his breakfast in the emptying Great Hall. He saw Fleur Delacour get up from the Ravenclaw table and join Cedric as he crossed to the side chamber and entered. Krum slouched off to join them shortly afterward. Harry stayed where he was. He really didn't want to go into the chamber. He had no family - no family who would turn up to see him risk his life, anyway. But just as he was getting up, thinking that he might as well go up to the library and do a spot more hex research, the door of the side chamber opened, and Cedric stuck his head out. “Harry, come on, they're waiting for you!” Utterly perplexed. Harry got up. The Dursleys couldn't possibly be here, could they? He walked across the Hall and opened the door into the chamber. Cedric and his parents were just inside the door. Viktor Krum was over in a corner, conversing with his dark-haired mother and father in rapid Bulgarian. He had inherited his fathers hooked nose. On the other side of the room, Fleur was jabbering away in French to her mother. Fleur's little sister, Gabrielle, was holding her mother's hand. She waved at Harry, who waved back, grinning. Then he saw Mrs. Weasley and Bill standing in front of the fireplace, beaming at him. “Surprise!” Mrs. Weasley said excitedly as he smiled broadly and walked over to them. “Thought we'd come and watch you. Harry!” She bent down and kissed him on the cheek. “You all right?” said Bill, grinning at Harry and shaking his hand. “Charlie wanted to come, but he couldn't get time off. He said you were incredible against the Horntail.” Fleur Delacour, Harry noticed, was eyeing Bill with great interest over her mother's shoulder. Harry could tell she had no objection whatsoever to long hair or earrings with fangs on them. “This is really nice of you,” Harry muttered to Mrs. Weasley. “I thought for a moment - the Dursleys -” “Hmm,” said Mrs. Weasley, pursing her lips. She had always refrained from criticizing the Dursleys in front of Harry, but her eyes flashed every time they were mentioned. “It's great being back here,” said Bill, looking around the chamber (Violet, the Fat Lady's friend, winked at him from her frame). “Haven't seen this place for five years. Is that picture of the mad knight still around? Sir Cadogan?” “Oh yeah,” said Harry, who had met Sir Cadogan the previous year. “And the Fat Lady?” said Bill. “She was here in my time,” said Mrs. Weasley. “She gave me such a telling off one night when I got back to the dormitory at four in the morning -” “What were you doing out of your dormitory at four in the morning?” said Bill, surveying his mother with amazement. Mrs. Weasley grinned, her eyes twinkling. “Your father and I had been for a nighttime stroll,” she said. “He got caught by Apollyon Pringle - he was the caretaker in those days - your father's still got the marks.” “Fancy giving us a tour, Harry?” said Bill. “Yeah, okay,” said Harry, and they made their way back toward the door into the Great Hall. As they passed Amos Diggory, he looked around. “There you are, are you?” he said, looking Harry up and down. “Bet you're not feeling quite as full of yourself now Cedric's caught you up on points, are you?” “What?” said Harry. “Ignore him,” said Cedric in a low voice to Harry, frowning after his father. “He's been angry ever since Rita Skeeter's article about the Triwizard Tournament - you know, when she made out you were the only Hogwarts champion.” “Didn't bother to correct her, though, did he?” said Amos Diggory, loudly enough for Harry to hear as he started to walk out of the door with Mrs. Weasley and Bill. “Still,…you'll show him, Ced. Beaten him once before, haven't you?” “Rita Skeeter goes out of her way to cause trouble, Amos!” Mrs. Weasley said angrily. “I would have thought you'd know that, working at the Ministry!” Mr. Diggory looked as though he was going to say something angry, but his wife laid a hand on his arm, and he merely shrugged and turned away. Harry had a very enjoyable morning walking over the sunny grounds with Bill and Mrs. Weasley, showing them the Beauxbatons carriage and the Durmstrang ship. Mrs. Weasley was intrigued by the Whomping Willow, which had been planted after she had left school, and reminisced at length about the gamekeeper before Hagrid, a man called Ogg. “How's Percy?” Harry asked as they walked around the greenhouses. “Not good,” said Bill. “He's very upset,” said Mrs. Weasley, lowering her voice and glancing around. “The Ministry wants to keep Mr. Crouch's disappearance quiet, but Percy's been hauled in for questioning about the instructions Mr. Crouch has been sending in. They seem to think there's a chance they weren't genuinely written by him. Percy's been under a lot of strain. They're not letting him fill in for Mr. Crouch as the fifth judge tonight. Cornelius Fudge is going to be doing it.” They returned to the castle for lunch. “Mum - Bill!” said Ron, looking stunned, as he joined the Gryffindor table. “What're you doing here?” “Come to watch Harry in the last task!” said Mrs. Weasley brightly. “I must say, it makes a lovely change, not having to cook. How was your exam?” “Oh…okay,” said Ron. “Couldn't remember all the goblin rebels’ names, so I invented a few. It's all right,” he said, helping himself to a Cornish pasty, while Mrs. Weasley looked stern, “they're all called stuff like Bodrod the Bearded and Urg the Unclean; it wasn't hard.” Fred, George, and Ginny came to sit next to them too, and Harry was having such a good time he felt almost as though he were back at the Burrow; he had forgotten to worry about that evening's task, and not until Hermione turned up, halfway through lunch, did he remember that she had had a brainwave about Rita Skeeter. “Are you going to tell us -?” Hermione shook her head warningly and glanced at Mrs. Weasley. “Hello, Hermione,” said Mrs. Weasley, much more stiffly than usual. “Hello,” said Hermione, her smile faltering at the cold expression on Mrs. Weasley's face. Harry looked between them, then said, “Mrs. Weasley, you didn't believe that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote in Witch Weekly, did you? Because Hermione's not my girlfriend.” “Oh!” said Mrs. Weasley “No - of course I didn't!” But she became considerably warmer toward Hermione after that. Harry, Bill, and Mrs. Weasley whiled away the afternoon with a long walk around the castle, and then returned to the Great Hall for the evening feast. Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge had joined the staff table now. Bagman looked quite cheerful, but Cornelius Fudge, who was sitting next to Madame Maxime, looked stern and was not talking. Madame Maxime was concentrating on her plate, and Harry thought her eyes looked red. Hagrid kept glancing along the table at her, There were more courses than usual, but Harry, who was starting to feel really nervous now, didn't eat much. As the enchanted ceiling overhead began to fade from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table, and silence fell. “Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes’ time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now.” Harry got up. The Gryffindors all along the table were applauding him; the Weasleys and Hermione all wished him good luck, and he headed off out of the Great Hall with Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor. “Feeling all right. Harry?” Bagman asked as they went down the stone steps onto the grounds. “Confident?” “I'm okay,” said Harry. It was sort of true; he was nervous, but he kept running over all the hexes and spells he had been practicing in his mind as they walked, and the knowledge that he could remember them all made him feel better. They walked onto the Quidditch field, which was now completely unrecognizable. A twenty-foot-high hedge ran all the way around the edge of it. There was a gap right in front of them: the entrance to the vast maze. The passage beyond it looked dark and creepy. Five minutes later, the stands had begun to fill; the air was full of excited voices and the rumbling of feet as the hundreds of students filed into their seats. The sky was a deep, clear blue now, and the first stars were starting to appear. Hagrid, Professor Moody, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick came walking into the stadium and approached Bagman and the champions. They were wearing large, red, luminous stars on their hats, all except Hagrid, who had his on the back of his moleskin vest. “We are going to be patrolling the outside of the maze,” said Professor McGonagall to the champions. “If you get into difficulty, and wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?” The champions nodded. “Off you go, then!” said Bagman brightly to the four patrollers. “Good luck. Harry,” Hagrid whispered, and the four of them walked away in different directions, to station themselves around the maze. Bagman now pointed his wand at his throat, muttered, “Sonorus,” and his magically magnified voice echoed into the stands. “Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each - Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!” The cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky. “In second place, with eighty points - Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!” More applause. “And in third place - Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!” Harry could just make out Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, and Hermione applauding Fleur politely, halfway up the stands. He waved up at them, and they waved back, beaming at him. “So…on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!” said Bagman. “Three - two - one -” He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Harry and Cedric hurried forward into the maze. The towering hedges cast black shadows across the path, and, whether because they were so tall and thick or because they had been enchanted, the sound of the surrounding crowd was silenced the moment they entered the maze. Harry felt almost as though he were underwater again. He pulled out his wand, muttered, “Lumos,” and heard Cedric do the same just behind him. After about fifty yards, they reached a fork. They looked at each other. “See you,” Harry said, and he took the left one, while Cedric took the right. Harry heard Bagman's whistle for the second time. Krum had entered the maze. Harry sped up. His chosen path seemed completely deserted. He turned right, and hurried on, holding his wand high over his head, trying to see as far ahead as possible. Still, there was nothing in sight. Bagman's whistle blew in the distance for the third time. All of the champions were now inside. Harry kept looking behind him. The old feeling that he was being watched was upon him. The maze was growing darker with every passing minute as the sky overhead deepened to navy. He reached a second fork. “Point Me,” he whispered to his wand, holding it flat in his palm. The wand spun around once and pointed toward his right, into solid hedge. That way was north, and he knew that he needed to go northwest for the center of the maze. The best he could do was to take the left fork and go right again as soon as possible. The path ahead was empty too, and when Harry reached a right turn and took it, he again found his way unblocked. Harry didn't know why, but the lack of obstacles was unnerving him. Surely he should have met something by now? It felt as though the maze were luring him into a false sense of security. Then he heard movement right behind him. He held out his wand, ready to attack, but its beam fell only upon Cedric, who had just hurried out of a path on the right-hand side. Cedric looked severely shaken. The sleeve of his robe was smoking. “Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts!” he hissed. “They're enormous - I only just got away!” He shook his head and dived out of sight, along another path. Keen to put plenty of distance between himself and the skrewts, Harry hurried off again. Then, as he turned a corner, he saw…a dementor gliding toward him. Twelve feet tall, its face hidden by its hood, its rotting, scabbed hands outstretched, it advanced, sensing its way blindly toward him. Harry could hear its rattling breath; he felt clammy coldness stealing over him, but knew what he had to do.… He summoned the happiest thought he could, concentrated with all his might on the thought of getting out of the maze and celebrating with Ron and Hermione, raised his wand, and cried, “Expecto Patronum!” A silver stag erupted from the end of Harry's wand and galloped toward the dementor, which fell back and tripped over the hem of its robes.…Harry had never seen a dementor stumble. “Hang on!” he shouted, advancing in the wake of his silver Patronus, “You're a boggart! Riddikulus!” There was a loud crack, and the shape-shifter exploded in a wisp of smoke. The silver stag faded from sight. Harry wished it could have stayed, he could have used some company…but he moved on, quickly and quietly as possible, listening hard, his wand held high once more. Left…right…left again…Twice he found himself facing dead ends. He did the Four-Point Spell again and found that he was going too far east. He turned back, took a right turn, and saw an odd golden mist floating ahead of him. Harry approached it cautiously, pointing the wand's beam at it. This looked like some kind of enchantment. He wondered whether he might be able to blast it out of the way. “Reducio!” he said. The spell shot straight through the mist, leaving it intact. He supposed he should have known better; the Reductor Curse was for solid objects. What would happen if he walked through the mist? Was it worth chancing it, or should he double back? He was still hesitating when a scream shattered the silence. “Fleur?” Harry yelled. There was silence. He stared all around him. What had happened to her? Her scream seemed to have come from somewhere ahead. He took a deep breath and ran through the enchanted mist. The world turned upside down. Harry was hanging from the ground, with his hair on end, his glasses dangling off his nose, threatening to fall into the bottomless sky. He clutched them to the end of his nose and hung there, terrified. It felt as though his feet were glued to the grass, which had now become the ceiling. Below him the dark, star-spangled heavens stretched endlessly. He felt as though if he tried to move one of his feet, he would fall away from the earth completely. Think, he told himself, as all the blood rushed to his head, think… But not one of the spells he had practiced had been designed to combat a sudden reversal of ground and sky. Did he dare move his foot? He could hear the blood pounding in his ears. He had two choices - try and move, or send up red sparks, and get rescued and disqualified from the task. He shut his eyes, so he wouldn't be able to see the view of endless space below him, and pulled his right foot as hard as he could away from the grassy ceiling. Immediately, the world righted itself. Harry fell forward onto his knees onto the wonderfully solid ground. He felt temporarily limp with shock. He took a deep, steadying breath, then got up again and hurried forward, looking back over his shoulder as he ran away from the golden mist, which twinkled innocently at him in the moonlight. He paused at a junction of two paths and looked around for some sign of Fleur. He was sure it had been she who had screamed. What had she met? Was she all right? There was no sign of red sparks - did that mean she had got herself out of trouble, or was she in such trouble that she couldn't reach her wand? Harry took the right fork with a feeling of increasing unease…but at the same time, he couldn't help thinking. One champion down… The cup was somewhere close by, and it sounded as though Fleur was no longer in the running. He'd got this far, hadn't he? What if he actually managed to win? Fleetingly, and for the first time since he'd found himself champion, he saw again that image of himself, raising the Triwizard Cup in front of the rest of the school.… He met nothing for ten minutes, but kept running into dead ends. Twice he took the same wrong turning. Finally, he found a new route and started to jog along it, his wandlight waving, making his shadow flicker and distort on the hedge walls. Then he rounded another corner and found himself facing a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Cedric was right - it was enormous. Ten feet long, it looked more like a giant scorpion than anything. Its long sting was curled over its back. Its thick armor glinted in the light from Harry's wand, which he pointed at it. “Stupefy!” The spell hit the skrewt's armor and rebounded; Harry ducked just in time, but could smell burning hair; it had singed the top of his head. The skrewt issued a blast of fire from its end and flew forward toward him. “Impedimenta!” Harry yelled. The spell hit the skrewt's armor again and ricocheted off; Harry staggered back a few paces and fell over. “IMPEDIMENTA!” The skrewt was inches from him when it froze - he had managed to hit it on its fleshy, shell-less underside. Panting, Harry pushed himself away from it and ran, hard, in the opposite direction - the Impediment Curse was not permanent; the skrewt would be regaining the use of its legs at any moment. He took a left path and hit a dead end, a right, and hit another; forcing himself to stop, heart hammering, he performed the Four-Point Spell again, backtracked, and chose a path that would take him northwest. He had been hurrying along the new path for a few minutes, when he heard something in the path running parallel to his own that made him stop dead. “What are you doing?” yelled Cedric's voice. “What the hell d'you think you're doing?” And then Harry heard Krum's voice. “Crucio!” The air was suddenly full of Cedric's yells. Horrified, Harry began sprinting up his path, trying to find a way into Cedric's. When none appeared, he tried the Reductor Curse again. It wasn't very effective, but it burned a small hole in the hedge through which Harry forced his leg, kicking at the thick brambles and branches until they broke and made an opening; he struggled through it, tearing his robes, and looking to his right, saw Cedric jerking and twitching on the ground, Krum standing over him. Harry pulled himself up and pointed his wand at Krum just as Krum looked up. Krum turned and began to run. “Stupefy!” Harry yelled. The spell hit Krum in the back; he stopped dead in his tracks, fell forward, and lay motionless, facedown in the grass. Harry-dashed over to Cedric, who had stopped twitching and was lying there panting, his hands over his face. “Are you all right?” Harry said roughly, grabbing Cedric's arm. “Yeah,” panted Cedric. “Yeah…I don't believe it…he crept up behind me.…I heard him, I turned around, and he had his wand on me.…” Cedric got up. He was still shaking. He and Harry looked down at Krum. “I can't believe this…I thought he was all right,” Harry said, staring at Krum. “So did I,” said Cedric. “Did you hear Fleur scream earlier?” said Harry. “Yeah,” said Cedric. “You don't think Krum got her too?” “I don't know,” said Harry slowly. “Should we leave him here?” Cedric muttered. “No,” said Harry. “I reckon we should send up red sparks. Someone'll come and collect him…otherwise he'll probably be eaten by a skrewt.” “He'd deserve it,” Cedric muttered, but all the same, he raised his wand and shot a shower of red sparks into the air, which hovered high above Krum, marking the spot where he lay. Harry and Cedric stood there in the darkness for a moment, looking around them. Then Cedric said, “Well…I s'pose we'd better go on.…” “What?” said Harry. “Oh…yeah…right…” It was an odd moment. He and Cedric had been briefly united against Krum - now the fact that they were opponents came back to Harry. The two of them proceeded up the dark path without speaking, then Harry turned left, and Cedric right. Cedric's footsteps soon died away. Harry moved on, continuing to use the Four-Point Spell, making sure he was moving in the right direction. It was between him and Cedric now. His desire to reach the cup first was now burning stronger than ever, but he could hardly believe what he'd just seen Krum do. The use of an Unforgivable Curse on a fellow human being meant a life term in Azkaban, that was what Moody had told them. Krum surely couldn't have wanted the Triwizard Cup that badly.…Harry sped up. Every so often he hit more dead ends, but the increasing darkness made him feel sure he was getting near the heart of the maze. Then, as he strode down a long, straight path, he saw movement once again, and his beam of wandlight hit an extraordinary creature, one which he had only seen in picture form, in his Monster Book of Monsters. It was a sphinx. It had the body of an over-large lion: great clawed paws and a long yellowish tail ending in a brown tuft. Its head, however, was that of a woman. She turned her long, almond-shaped eyes upon Harry as he approached. He raised his wand, hesitating. She was not crouching as if to spring, but pacing from side to side of the path, blocking his progress. Then she spoke, in a deep, hoarse voice. “You are very near your goal. The quickest way is past me.” “So…so will you move, please?” said Harry, knowing what the answer was going to be. “No,” she said, continuing to pace. “Not unless you can answer my riddle. Answer on your first guess - I let you pass. Answer wrongly - I attack. Remain silent - I will let you walk away from me unscathed.” Harry's stomach slipped several notches. It was Hermione who was good at this sort of thing, not him. He weighed his chances. If the riddle was too hard, he could keep silent, get away from the sphinx unharmed, and try and find an alternative route to the center. “Okay,” he said. “Can I hear the riddle?” The sphinx sat down upon her hind legs, in the very middle of the path, and recited: “First think of the person who lives in disguise, Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies. Next, tell me what's always the last thing to mend, The middle of middle and end of the end? And finally give me the sound often heard During the search for a hard-to-find word. Now string them together, and answer me this, Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?” Harry gaped at her. “Could I have it again…more slowly?” he asked tentatively. She blinked at him, smiled, and repeated the poem. “All the clues add up to a creature I wouldn't want to kiss?” Harry asked. She merely smiled her mysterious smile. Harry took that for a “yes.” Harry cast his mind around. There were plenty of animals he wouldn't want to kiss; his immediate thought was a Blast-Ended Skrewt, but something told him that wasn't the answer. He'd have to try and work out the clues.… “A person in disguise,” Harry muttered, staring at her, “who lies…er…that'd be a - an impostor. No, that's not my guess! A - a spy? I'll come back to that…could you give me the next clue again, please?” She repeated the next lines of the poem. “'The last thing to mend,'” Harry repeated. “Er…no idea…'middle of middle'…could I have the last bit again?” She gave him the last four lines. “'The sound often heard during the search for a hard-to-find word,'” said Harry. “Er…that'd be…er…hang on - ‘er'! Er's a sound!” The sphinx smiled at him. “Spy…er…spy…er…” said Harry, pacing up and down. “A creature I wouldn't want to kiss…a spider!” The sphinx smiled more broadly. She got up, stretched her front legs, and then moved aside for him to pass. “Thanks!” said Harry, and, amazed at his own brilliance, he dashed forward. He had to be close now, he had to be.…His wand was telling him he was bang on course; as long as he didn't meet anything too horrible, he might have a chance.… Harry broke into a run. He had a choice of paths up ahead. “Point Me!” he whispered again to his wand, and it spun around and pointed him to the right-hand one. He dashed up this one and saw light ahead. The Triwizard Cup was gleaming on a plinth a hundred yards away. Suddenly a dark figure hurtled out onto the path in front of him. Cedric was going to get there first. Cedric was sprinting as fast as he could toward the cup, and Harry knew he would never catch up, Cedric was much taller, had much longer legs - Then Harry saw something immense over a hedge to his left, moving quickly along a path that intersected with his own; it was moving so fast Cedric was about to run into it, and Cedric, his eyes on the cup, had not seen it - “Cedric!” Harry bellowed. “On your left!” Cedric looked around just in time to hurl himself past the thing and avoid colliding with it, but in his haste, he tripped. Harry saw Cedric's wand fly out of his hand as a gigantic spider stepped into the path and began to bear down upon Cedric. “Stupefy!” Harry yelled; the spell hit the spider's gigantic, hairy black body, but for all the good it did, he might as well have thrown a stone at it; the spider jerked, scuttled around, and ran at Harry instead. “Stupefy! Impedimenta! Stupefy!” But it was no use - the spider was either so large, or so magical, that the spells were doing no more than aggravating it. Harry had one horrifying glimpse of eight shining black eyes and razor-sharp pincers before it was upon him. He was lifted into the air in its front legs; struggling madly, he tried to kick it; his leg connected with the pincers and next moment he was in excruciating pain. He could hear Cedric yelling “Stupefy!” too, but his spell had no more effect than Harry's - Harry raised his wand as the spider opened its pincers once more and shouted “Expelliarmus!” It worked - the Disarming Spell made the spider drop him, but that meant that Harry fell twelve feet onto his already injured leg, which crumpled beneath him. Without pausing to think, he aimed high at the spider's underbelly, as he had done with the skrewt, and shouted “Stupefy!''just as Cedric yelled the same thing. The two spells combined did what one alone had not: The spider keeled over sideways, flattening a nearby hedge, and strewing the path with a tangle of hairy legs. “Harry!” he heard Cedric shouting. “You all right? Did it fall on you?” “No,” Harry called back, panting. He looked down at his leg. It was bleeding freely. He could see some sort of thick, gluey secretion from the spider's pincers on his torn robes. He tried to get up, but his leg was shaking badly and did not want to support his weight. He leaned against the hedge, gasping for breath, and looked around. Cedric was standing feet from the Triwizard Cup, which was gleaming behind him. “Take it, then,” Harry panted to Cedric. “Go on, take it. You're there.” But Cedric didn't move. He merely stood there, looking at Harry. Then he turned to stare at the cup. Harry saw the longing expression on his face in its golden light. Cedric looked around at Harry again, who was now holding onto the hedge to support himself. Cedric took a deep breath. “You take it. You should win. That's twice you've saved my neck in here.” “That's not how it's supposed to work,” Harry said. He felt angry; his leg was very painful, he was aching all over from trying to throw off the spider, and after all his efforts, Cedric had beaten him to it, just as he'd beaten Harry to ask Cho to the ball. “The one who reaches the cup first gets the points. That's you. I'm telling you, I'm not going to win any races on this leg.” Cedric took a few paces nearer to the Stunned spider, away from the cup, shaking his head. “No,” he said. “Stop being noble,” said Harry irritably. “Just take it, then we can get out of here.” Cedric watched Harry steadying himself, holding tight to the hedge. “You told me about the dragons,” Cedric said. “I would've gone down in the first task if you hadn't told me what was coming.” “I had help on that too,” Harry snapped, trying to mop up his bloody leg with his robes. “You helped me with the egg - we're square.” “I had help on the egg in the first place,” said Cedric. “We're still square,” said Harry, testing his leg gingerly; it shook violently as he put weight on it; he had sprained his ankle when the spider had dropped him. “You should've got more points on the second task,” said Cedric mulishly. “You stayed behind to get all the hostages. I should've done that.” “I was the only one who was thick enough to take that song seriously!” said Harry bitterly. “Just take the cup!” “No,” said Cedric. He stepped over the spider's tangled legs to join Harry, who stared at him. Cedric was serious. He was walking away from the sort of glory Hufflepuff House hadn't had in centuries. “Go on,” Cedric said. He looked as though this was costing him every ounce of resolution he had, but his face was set, his arms were folded, he seemed decided. Harry looked from Cedric to the cup. For one shining moment, he saw himself emerging from the maze, holding it. He saw himself holding the Triwizard Cup aloft, heard the roar of the crowd, saw Cho's face shining with admiration, more clearly than he had ever seen it before…and then the picture faded, and he found himself staring at Cedric's shadowy, stubborn face. “Both of us,” Harry said. “What?” “We'll take it at the same time. It's still a Hogwarts victory. We'll tie for it.” Cedric stared at Harry. He unfolded his arms. “You - you sure?” “Yeah,” said Harry. “Yeah…we've helped each other out, haven't we? We both got here. Let's just take it together.” For a moment, Cedric looked as though he couldn't believe his ears; then his face split in a grin. “You're on,” he said. “Come here.” He grabbed Harry's arm below the shoulder and helped Harry limp toward the plinth where the cup stood. When they had reached it, they both held a hand out over one of the cup's gleaming handles. “On three, right?” said Harry. “One - two - three -” He and Cedric both grasped a handle. Instantly, Harry felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel. His feet had left the ground. He could not unclench the hand holding the Triwizard Cup; it was pulling him onward in a howl of wind and swirling color, Cedric at his side. 第三一章 第三项任务 “丹伯多也认为‘那个人’又变厉害了？”罗恩低声问道。 哈利此时已把自己在丹伯多办公室所看到的一切，以及丹伯多后来讲给他听的、给他看的所有东西，全都告诉了罗恩和荷米恩(除了有关尼维尔的事)——而且，当然也告诉了西里斯，哈利在离开丹伯多的办公室时曾给他派出一只猫头鹰。那天晚上，哈利、罗恩和荷米恩在公共休息室里坐到很晚，不停地商量着这件事，一直到哈利觉得自己脑袋发晕。他终于明白为什么丹伯多充满思想的头脑需要一根虹管将这些想法—一抽出，这样他才会觉得释然。 罗恩正盯着房间里的火堆。哈利心想他似乎看到罗恩的身体在轻轻地发抖，尽管那天晚上挺暖和的。 “他相信史纳皮？”罗恩说。“就是知道了史纳皮是个食尸者，你也相信史纳皮吗？” “是的。”哈利答道。 荷米恩已经有十分钟都没吐出一个字了。她静静地坐在那里，双手捂着额头，眼睛却盯着自己的膝盖。哈利觉得她看起来也像是刚刚用了一次班西福。 “理特。史姬特。”她终于开口了，声音低低的。 “你现在怎么还会担心她呢？”罗恩问道，满脸的疑问。 “我不是担心她，”荷米恩对着自己的膝盖说，“我只是在想…… 还记得她怎么跟我说的吗？‘我知道露得。巴格蒙的惊人内幕。’这不就是她想说的吗？报道了他的审讯过程，她知道他给了食尸者情报。 还有温奇，记得她……说过‘巴格蒙是个坏巫师’，上次让他逍遥法外，克劳斯先生肯定很生气，而且他应该在家里说起过这件事的。 “是啊，但是巴格蒙不会故意的吧？” 荷米恩耸了耸肩。 “法治认为是玛西姆夫人攻击克劳斯吗？”罗恩一边说着，一边把头转向哈利。 “是呀，”哈利说道，“但他只是说说而已，因为克劳斯在比克斯贝克顿斯马车附近消失了。” “我们还没有想到过她，对吧？”罗恩慢条斯理地说道，“可别忘了，她可是有巨人血统的，所以她不愿意承认。” “她当然不会承认，”荷米恩尖刻地说，眼睛朝上，“看看当理特查明有关他妈妈的事情时哈格力遭到了怎样的待遇。看看法治吧，我们在她身上下定论仅仅因为她是个半巨人。谁要那样的偏见？我敢说如果我就根据这个来判断我会很不安。”荷米恩盯着自己的手表。 “我们还没怎么练习呢！”她说道，神情很惊讶的样子。“我们要学的是障碍咒啊！所以我们明天就要开始练！走吧，哈利，你得好好睡一觉。” 哈利和罗恩上楼回到宿舍。哈利穿睡衣时看了一眼尼维尔的床。哈利摘掉眼镜，爬上了床，他在想象如果父母还活着但是不认识自己，那是怎样一种感受啊。因为是孤儿，他常常得到许多陌生人的同情，但当他听着尼维尔轻轻的鼾声时，他反倒觉得尼维尔比自己更值得同情。屋子里一片漆黑，他突然觉得热血沸腾，那是一股股愤怒和仇恨，控诉着那些折磨兰博顿先生和夫人的混蛋们……他们想起了当克劳斯的儿子和他的同伙被“得蒙特”拽出法庭时人们是如何地嘲笑……他理解人们的感受……接下来他又记起那个尖叫着的男孩子苍白的脸，他心里震了一下才想起那个男孩子一年后就死了…… 肯定是福尔得摩特，黑暗中哈利一边想着，一边盯着蚊帐盖。他又想起了福尔得摩特……就是他拆散这些家庭，就是他毁了所有这些人的生命…… 罗恩和荷米恩在这个时候本来应该准备考试的，而且考试刚好会在第三次任务那天结束，但他们却尽力地帮哈利做准备。 哈利指出他们要考试，说可以自己一个人练习一会儿。荷米恩却淡淡地答应道，“别担心，除非我们在防巫学上拿高分，否则，我们会查不出班里的咒语的。” 一只蜜蜂“嗡嗡嗡”飞进房间。“要想成为奥挪士必须好好训练。”罗恩兴奋地说着。边对着蜜蜂施了一个障碍咒，那只蜜蜂便死在半空中，一动不动了。 六月一到，城堡里的气氛变得令人兴奋又紧张。人人都在盼着第三次任务。因为它将在学期结束前一周开始。哈利几乎每时每刻都在练习咒语。他觉得在这个任务上自己比其他人都有信心。莫迪说得对，尽管很危险很困难，哈利现在已经找到对付那些怪物和通过魔咒障碍的办法，而且这次他有机会好好准备挑战眼前的一切。 麦康娜答应让哈利在午餐时间使用变形教室，也省得自己在学校里到处找不到地方。哈利很快就掌握了障碍咒，一种可以阻止对手前进或使其放慢速度的咒语；清除咒，一种能迅速清除固体障碍物的咒语，还有一种叫方向咒的很有用的咒语，是荷米恩发现的。它能让魔杖指向正北方，哈利借此就能在迷宫里找准方向。不过他还是不太明白防身咒。用这个咒语能在自己身体周围形成一堵暂时的防护墙来反射其他小咒语。但是荷米恩攻破了哈利的防护墙，使得哈利在房间里摇摇晃晃走了十分钟后她才找出反咒语让哈利停下来。 “其实你做得挺好的，”荷米恩一边鼓励哈利，一边低头看着咒语单，把他们学会的咒语划掉，“有些魔咒到时一定会派上用场的。” “来看看这个，”罗恩靠着窗户喊道。他正盯着楼底下看。“快来看看马尔夫在干什么？” 哈利和荷米恩停下来跑过去看。马尔夫，克来伯和高尔正站在底下一棵树的树荫里。克来伯和高尔好像是在放哨，不时发出得意的笑声。而马尔夫则把手举到嘴巴那里，冲着它说话。 “他好像在用对讲机。”哈利好奇地说道。 “不可能，”荷米恩说，“我早就告诉过你，那玩意儿在霍格瓦彻周围不管用。快点，哈利，我们继续练防身咒。”她迸出了一句话，转身从窗户那里回到房间中。 西里斯现在每天都让猫头鹰捎信给哈利。和荷米恩一样，他像是一心想着如何帮哈利通过最后的任务。他在信中提醒哈利，叫他不必理会霍格瓦彻墙外的事情(他在信中写道)：如果福尔得摩持真的变得越来越厉害的话，我的首要任务就是确保你的安全。你有丹伯多的保护，他不可能对你下手，反正是没有什么风险的，所以你要集中精力安全通过迷宫，到那时我们再把注意力转到其他事情上。 距离第三次任务越来越近了，哈利也日愈变得紧张起来，不过还好没有前两次时那么厉害。一方面，他对这一次很有信心，因为他已经做好了所有准备。另一方面，这是最后一次挑战，不管结果是好是坏，比赛终将结束，而他也会最终得到莫大的快慰。 第三次任务那天的早餐是在吵吵闹闹中度过的。信使猫头鹰送来西里斯给哈利的祝愿卡片。那只是一张羊皮纸，对折叠在一起，信头还有个脏兮兮的爪子印。但哈利对此还是十分感激。又一只猫头鹰尖叫着飞来，和往常一样，给荷米恩带来《先知日报》的早晨版。她打开报纸，扫了一眼头版，立即吐了满口南瓜汁在上面。 “什么新闻？”哈利和罗恩盯着她，一起叫了出来。 “没有什么。”荷术恩连忙一边回答，一边想把报纸扔掉，但罗恩一把抢了过来。 他看了看标题说，“不会吧，不是今天吧，那头老母牛。” “什么？”哈利问，“又是理特。史姬特？” “不是。”罗恩说。接着，和荷米恩一样，他准备把报纸摆到一边去。 “是不是关于我的，是不是？”哈利追问道。 “不是。”罗恩说道，语气很不肯定。 但哈利还没来得及要看那份报纸，杰高。马尔夫却隔着大厅从支付德林餐桌那儿大声嚷嚷起来。 “嗨，波特！波特！你的脑袋怎么了？感觉还好吗？你该不会生我们的气吧？” 马尔夫手里也正拿着一份《先知日报》。餐桌旁的马尔夫这时正暗暗笑着，转动着椅子想看看哈利的反应。 “让我看看，”哈利对罗恩说道，“给我看看。” 罗恩只好很不情愿地把报纸递给他。哈利翻开报纸，发现上面有自己的照片，照片下面还有一行大标题：“不安和危险”的哈利-波特特约记者理特。史姬特报道，曾经击败‘那个人’的男孩目前身体状况不稳定，甚至处境危险。近日有惊人证据显示哈利-波特行为怪异，这就让人怀疑他是否合适参加像“三巫师争霸赛”这种高要求的比赛和就读于霍格瓦彻学校了。 据《先知日报》独家披露，波特经常在课堂上昏倒，而且经常抱怨额头上的伤痕(‘那个人’企图施咒杀死他时留下的)。上个星期一，在上占卜课过程中，本报记者亲眼见到波特突然暴怒无常，大喊自己的伤痕太痛了不能继续上课。 又据斯特姆高医院魔咒疾病损伤专家说，波特的大脑有可能受‘那个人’攻击的影响，而波特一直说伤疤持续作痛则说明了其根深蒂固的神志迷乱。 “他或许在装病，”一位专家说，“这可能是为了引起大家的注意力。” 《先知日报》还发现有关哈利-波特的令人担忧的事实，就是艾伯斯。丹伯多，霍格瓦彻校长，已经很小心地回避了巫术界公众的注意力。 “波特能说普塞特凯语”，马尔夫披露说，“几年前发生了一连串针对学生的攻击，大多数都认为是波特干的，因为他们看到他在一间”决斗俱乐部“里大发脾气，跟着就放出一条蛇袭击另一个男孩子。 事实虽如此，但大家都不吭声。可能是因为他结交了一些凶恶动物吧。我们都认为他为了一点点权力而愿意做任何事情。“ 普塞特凯语，一种与蛇交谈的能力，一直以来被认为是一种阴毒的巫术。事实上，当代操这门巫术操得最好的人是著名的‘那个人’。 一个不愿透露姓名的“巫术防御联盟”的成员，建议任何懂普塞特凯的巫师都应被调查。作为我个人来说，我必然会十分怀疑任何能与蛇交谈的人的动机，既然我们知道毒蛇常被用于最阴毒的巫术，而且历史上和恶人有密切联系。同样，“任何与狼和巨无霸这些凶恶动物为伍的人肯定会有某种暴力倾向。” 毫无疑问，艾伯斯。丹伯多应该好好考虑一下是否让这样一个男孩去参加“三巫师争霸赛”。有人担忧波特可能会不顾一切地用阴毒巫术去赢得比赛，即今晚进行的第三次任务。 “她有点不喜欢我，对吧？”哈利轻轻说了一句，折起报纸。 在史林德林餐桌那边，马尔夫、克来伯和高尔正忙着嘲笑他。他们用手拍打脑袋，扮鬼脸，还把舌头像蛇一样吐出来，不停地摆动。 “她怎么知道你的伤疤在占卜课上作痛的？”罗恩问道，“她不可能在那儿，她也不可能听到——” “那时窗户开着，”哈利说道，“我打开它换气。” “你在北塔顶上！”荷米恩有点不相信，“你的声音不可能一路传到地面呀！” “嗯，你是研究魔法窃听术的，”哈利又说，“告诉我她是怎么做到的！” “我一起都在努力呀！”荷米恩答道，“但我，我……” 突然荷米恩脸上出现一种很奇怪很模糊的表情。她慢慢地抬起一只手指在头发里面抓来抓去。 “你没事吧？”罗恩皱着眉头问道。 “没事。”荷求恩上气不接下气地说。然后她又把手指放在头发上抓了一遍，接着把手放到嘴边，好像在和一个看不见的对讲机说话一样。哈利和罗恩面面相觑，不知道她究竟在搞什么名堂。 “我有个主意，”荷求恩开口了，眼睛注视着天空。“我想我知道……因为那时没人能够看见……即使是莫迪也是如此……不过她应该能够爬上窗台……但是她不可能得到批准的……绝对不可能的……我想我知道怎么回事了！给我两分钟到图书馆，我要搞清楚！” 一说完，荷米恩拿起书包飞也似地跑出了大厅。 “喂！”罗恩在后面叫她，“我们十分钟后要考魔法历史！哎呀真要命！”他回过头对哈利说，“她肯定是恨死那个女人了，连错过考试都敢。你准备到宾西的课上干吗？又是阅读？” 因为是“三巫师争霸赛”选手，哈利免考期末考试，他只好是坐在课室后面查看第三次任务的新咒语。 “可能吧！”哈利答道。但就在那个时候麦康娜教授沿着格林芬顿餐桌朝他走了过来，“波特，所有队员早餐后将在大厅外的会宾室集合。”她开口说道。 “但任务晚上才开始呀！”哈利连忙说，不小心把炒蛋碰掉了。他担心自己搞错了时间。 “我清楚，波特，”她接着说道，“你该知道吧，选手的家里人将被邀请观看决赛。这样安排只是让你有机会向他们问候一下。” 她说完就离开了。哈利望着她的背影，嘴巴张得大大的。 “她不指望杜斯利一家会出席吧？”他很直接地问罗恩。 “不知道，”罗恩说道，“哈利，我得快点走了，上课都快迟到了。 一会儿见。“ 哈利吃完早餐。大厅里空荡荡。他看见芙璐-迪来高从餐桌旁站了起来，和塞德里克一起走进会宾室。过一会儿，克伦慢吞吞地走了进去加入他们的行列。而哈利还待在老地方不走。他确实不愿走进会宾室。他没有家庭——没有会来看他接受命运挑战的家人。但就当他想起身去图好馆复习一下咒语的时候，会宾室的门开了，探出塞德里克的小脑袋。 “哈利，快点，大家都在等你呢！” 哈利觉得很是困窘，但还是站了起来。杜斯利一家该不会在里面吧？他心想着，跨过大厅，打开门走了进去。 塞德里克和他父母就在靠门口的地方坐着。维特。克伦待在对面的角落里，和长着一头黑头发的父母亲用保加利亚语交谈着，说得很快。房间的另一边，芙璐正在和她妈妈用法语聊着，声音有点模糊。还有芙珊的小妹妹盖布丽也来了，正拉着她妈妈的手。她朝哈利挥了挥手，哈利也向她挥手。他还看到威斯里夫人和比尔站在火炉前，冲着自己微笑。 哈利也致以微笑，并朝他们走了过去。“给你个意外。”威斯里夫人高兴地说，“该想到我们是来看你的吧，哈利！”她弯腰吻了一下哈利的脸颊。 “你还好吧？”比尔问道，高兴地笑着，握着哈利的手。“查理想来的，但他没时间。他说你对号尾龙那次比赛真是太棒了！” 哈利觉察到芙璐-迪来高，正不断望着比尔，给他暗送秋波。哈利看得出来她不会拒绝比尔上面饰有狗牙的长发和耳环。 “你们真是太好了，”哈利低声对威斯里夫人说，“我刚才想到杜斯利一家了。” “咦。”威斯里夫人叹了一下嘴唇。她是从来都不会当着哈利的面说杜斯利家的不是，但是每次提起他们，她的眼睛总会不自然地闪亮许多。 “回来真好！”比尔说着，目光扫了一下整个大厅，(维利，那个胖大婶的朋友正朝他挤眉弄眼)。“五年没见过这地方。疯骑士还在吗？就那个卡顿猛骑士大人？” “噢，当然在，”哈利答道。他去年刚见过他。 “还有胖大婶呢？”比尔又问。 “我读书时她就在这里，”威斯里夫人说，“有一天晚上我四点钟才回到宿舍，她就叫我滚蛋了。” “你凌晨四点钟在外面干吗？”比尔问，好奇地望着她妈妈。 威斯里夫人笑了，她的眼睛在交烁。 “你爸爸和我一起散步，”她说道，“他让艾伯里。皮格抓住了。那家伙是个管理员，你爸爸身上现在还留着那些疤痕。” “带我们参观一下吧，哈利？”比尔提议说。 “好啊！”哈利说完就带着他们回到大厅。 当他们经过阿姆斯。迪格瑞时，他朝哈利看了看。“就是你了！” 他仔细打量着哈利，“我想你该不会觉得信心十足吧？，塞德里克的分数快赶上你了，对吧！” “你说什么？”哈利说。 “别理他，”塞德里克小声地对哈利说，皱着眉头跟在他爸爸后面，“他看了理特。史姬特关于‘巫术比赛’的文章后一直很生气。你知道的，理特。史姬特认为你是唯一的霍格瓦彻冠军。” “他不想纠正她的话，对吧？”阿姆斯。迪格瑞又开口了，声音大得足以让哈利听见，而那时哈利和威斯里夫人以及比尔正准备走出大门。“你该再给他看看你的厉害，儿子，你以前不是赢过他一次吗？” “是理特。史姬特自己找麻烦，阿姆斯！”威斯里夫人很生气，“我原以为你会知道真相的，你可是在政府部门工作的呀！” 迪格瑞先生像是想说些什么的，但他妻子用手拽了拽他的手臂，他便只是耸耸肩就转身走了。 整个早上哈利都带着威斯里夫人和比尔参观校园，兴致勃勃地看了比克斯贝克顿斯马车和丹姆斯安船。威斯里夫人对“轰鸣柳”很感兴趣。那棵树是她刚刚离开学校后种下的。她记起了在哈格力之前的一个叫欧居的猎场看守人。 他们走到了花房周围。“伯希怎样了？”哈利问道。 “不大好。”比尔说。 “他很生气，”威斯里夫人看看地面说，声音很低，“部门让克劳斯先生静悄悄的离去，但伯希却被拖进来，让他解释有关克劳斯先生寄给他的一些指示。他们似乎想那些指示有可能不是出自克劳斯先生之手。伯希现在压力很大。他们不让克劳斯先生当今晚的第五裁判。可尼斯。法治将代替他。”他们回到了城堡吃午餐。 “妈，比尔！”罗恩看到他们在这里很是惊讶，“你们怎么来了？” “来看哈利的最后一次任务啊！”威斯里夫人轻快地说，“我敢说在这里变化不小吧，用不着自己做饭。考试怎么样？” “嗯，还好，”罗恩回答，“只是记不全所有的小妖叛变者的名字，所以自己杜撰了一些。还行吧？”他说着吃了一块玉米陷饼，威斯里夫人的脸色却似乎很严肃，罗恩又说，“就是那些叫波特罗特和维里安迪的玩意儿，并不难。” 弗来德、乔治和金妮也来了，就在他们旁边。哈利心情很高兴，他觉得自己仿佛又回到了布朗；他已经不记得晚上还有比赛要操心。 直到荷米恩在午餐过程中出现时，他才想起她对理特。史姬特有点感兴趣。 “你是不是要告诉我们——？” 荷米恩脾摇了摇头，又看了看威斯里夫人。 “你好，荷米恩。”威斯里夫人说道，语气似乎比往常生硬很多。 “你好。”荷米恩冲着威斯里夫人微笑，可威斯里夫人却面无表情。 哈利看了看他们俩人说，“你应该不会相信理特。史姬特在《巫婆周刊》里写的荒唐事吧。因为荷米恩并不是我的女朋友。” “噢！”威斯里夫人连忙开口，“不会，当然不会相信！” 之后她对荷米恩也就热乎了起来。 下午，哈利陪比尔和威斯里夫人逛了一圈城堡，晚餐时间便回到大厅。露得。巴格蒙和可尼斯。法治已坐在工作人员席那里。巴格蒙看起来很高兴，但坐在玛西姆夫人旁边的可尼斯。法治却板着脸孔，一句话也不说。玛西姆夫人正专心享用着晚餐。可哈利觉得她两眼发红，并且哈格力老是从旁边望过来，偷偷地看她。 晚餐比以往丰盛多了，可哈利开始有些紧张了，并没有什么好胃口。这时顶上的天花板颜色从蓝慢慢变成紫，淡淡的柔光让人觉得醉醺醺的。丹伯多从工作人员席那里站了起来，整个大厅顿时鸦雀无声。 “先生们，女士们，还有五分钟我们就要前去快迪斯赛场观看本次‘巫术大赛’的决赛了。现在请冠军选手们跟着巴格蒙先生进场。” 哈利站起来。整一个桌子的格林芬顿们都为他鼓掌欢呼，威斯里一家和荷米恩也起来祝他好运。哈利和塞德里克、芙璐、克伦一起步出了大厅。 “感觉还好吧，哈利？”从台阶上下到地面时巴格蒙问哈利，“有把握吗？” “还行吧，”哈利答道。这是真的，他可是一边走路，一边不停地背着那些咒语，知道自己把它们全记住了心情自然就好多了。 他们进了快迪斯场。场子变得都决认不出来了，周围绕着一圈二十英尺高的树篱；中间有个开口就是这个大迷宫的人口。再过去是一条黑乎乎令人毛骨悚然的通道。 五分钟后，看台开始坐满了人，学生观众入座时，整个赛场充满了他们兴奋的叫喊和脚踏地板发出的隆隆声响。而天空是深蓝深蓝的。明星级人物开始进场了。哈格力、莫迪教授、麦康娜教授步入体育场，朝巴格蒙和选手们走过去。他们帽子上都戴着大红星，只有哈格力与众不同——他把星星戴在鼹鼠皮做的马甲背上。 “我们将在迷宫外巡查，”麦康娜对选手们说，“如果你们遇到困难，就向空中发送红光信号，我们中的一人会马上过来救你们，明白了吗？” 选手们点了点头。 “那就马上出发吧！”巴格蒙冲四个巡视员说道。 “祝你好运，哈利！”哈格力小声说完后四个巡视员就向不同方向走去，各自站在自己的岗位上。这时巴格蒙用魔杖指着自己的喉咙说道：“大声！”他的嗓音就马上放大，响彻全场。 “先生们，女士们，第三次任务印本次比赛的决赛即将开始！先让我告诉大家目前各位选手的分数！排第一位两位选手都是85分，他们别是塞德里充。迪格瑞先生和哈利-波特先生，他们都是来自霍格瓦彻学校！”雷鸣般的掌声和欢呼声顿时响起，吓得“禁林”的小鸟纷纷振翅飞入夜空。“排在第二位的，就是丹姆斯安学院的维特。克伦！他的分数是80分。”又响起一阵掌声。“排在第三位的是芙璐。 迪来高小姐，来自比尔贝顿学校！“ 哈利隐约看得见威斯里夫人、比尔、罗恩和荷米恩在看台上向芙璐鼓掌。他朝他们挥手，他们挥了挥手冲着他笑。 “听我的哨声，哈利和塞德里克！”巴格蒙喊道，“三、二、一！” 他使劲一吹哨子，哈利和塞德里克便立刻跑进迷宫。 路面上是高高的树篱的影子；大概是因为树篱太高太密或者是他们太人神了，哈利和塞德里克进人迷宫时并没有听见周围雷鸣般的轰响。哈利觉得自己仿如置身水下。他抽出魔杖，喃喃发出“露姆斯”咒语，后面的塞德里克也跟着这样做了。 走了大约几十码远，他们来到一个交叉路口。两人互相看了看对方。 哈利对塞德里克说了声“再会”便选走左边的路，塞德里克则走右边。 哈利又听见巴格蒙吹了第二次哨。克伦便进到迷宫中来。哈利赶忙加快了步伐。他走的那条道似乎很荒芜。哈利继续走，并把魔杖高高地举在头顶上，想看前面有些什么东西。不过他什么也没看到。 巴格蒙的口哨又响了一次。这样一来所有的冠军选手都在迷宫里了。 哈利一边走一边不断地回头看。他老是觉得有什么东西在监视自己。时间一分一分过去，夜幕愈来愈深，迷宫里也变得越来越暗了。不久他来到了第二个交叉口。 “帮我指路。”他小声命令魔杖，将它平放在手掌上。 魔杖在掌上转了一转，停下来指向右边，是进人树篱那个方向。 路是往北去的，那他就得朝西北方向走，然后才能到达迷宫的中心。 现在他该做的就是走左边的路，再尽快往右走。 小路前面还是空荡荡的。当哈利向右走下去时，路仍然很畅顺。 不知为什么，没有障碍倒令他不安了。现在看来迷宫倒像是想把他诱人一种虚假的安全感之中。接着他又听到有什么东西在他后面移动。他马上拿出魔杖，准备应战，但魔杖发出的光落在塞德里克身上，当时他正好从右边路口跑出来。塞德里克正浑身抖个不停，衣服袖子还冒着烟。 塞德里克长吁一声，“哈格力的‘疾风怪物’！真要命，差点没避过去！” 他摇了摇头，便跑去了另一条路，一会儿消失得无影无踪。为了避开怪物，哈利也马上离开了这个地方。接着，在一个拐角他却看到了——一个“蒂玛特”正向他滑来。这怪物足有十二英尺高，脸上盖着头巾，一双长满疥癣的腐烂的大手向外伸出，像瞎了一样径直朝哈利冲过来。哈利已能听到它“嘎嘎”的喘气声；他觉得有股寒气逼袭全身，不过他心里清楚下一步该怎么做…… 他尽量想一些高兴的念头，一想到自己将成功走出迷宫和罗恩及荷米恩一起庆祝胜利，哈利便举起魔杖，大叫一声，“愿天保佑我！” 一只银鹿即将从魔杖头蹦出，朝“蒂玛特”会猛冲过去：“蒂玛特” 给自己的长袍绊倒在地……哈利长这么大可没见过“蒂玛特”跌倒的。 “继续！”哈利一边跟着银鹿前进，一边大声喊道：“你这个胆小鬼！怪物！” 接着传来一声噼啪声，“大疯魔”早已变成一缕青烟。银鹿也随之消失了。哈利真想它能多呆一会儿，起码也有个伴儿……哈利很快又出发了，一边举着魔杖，一边认真听着周围的动静。 向左……向右……再向左……有两次他发现自己走进了死胡同。哈利又用了～次“方向咒”，发现自己往东走过头了。于是他又往回走，向右转，看到前面有一团奇怪的金色薄雾，飘离不定。 哈利好奇地走过去，用魔杖发出的光对着它。这团东西看起来有点像妖术。他想试试能不能用咒语把它吹掉。 “清除咒！”他大喊一声。 魔光直接穿透妖雾，妖雾却仍然留在那里。哈利低头想想，其实自己早该知道“清除咒”只能用来对付硬物的。又一想，如果走过妖雾会怎样呢？可那值得冒险吗？或者干脆往回走算了？ 哈利犹不决。这时一声尖叫打破了寂静。 “是芙璐吗？”哈利喊道。 没有回答。哈利看了看周围。芙璐怎么了？她的叫声好像是从前面某个地方传过来的。他做了个深呼吸，冲进妖雾。 很奇怪整个世界都倒转了过来。哈利悬挂在地面上，头发朝“上”，眼镜则从鼻子上面垂了下来快要掉进无边无底的天空里。他抓住眼镜，整个人挂在那儿，怕得都发呆了。他觉得自己的脚粘在干草上面，地上的草则成了现在的天花板。在他下面是漆黑一片的夜空。哈利感到如果提起一只脚，他整个人就会从地球上掉下去。 好好想想，他不停对自己说，好好想想吧，尽管全身的血都涌到了头部。 但是他没有学过什么咒语可以对付天地大倒转的。他敢不敢移动他的脚呢？哈利好像听到血液在耳根那里“砰砰”作响。看来他只有两个选择了——要么试着动一动身子，要么发出求救信号，等待救援，也就是任务失败了。 他闭上眼，这样就不会看到下面茫茫太空。接着他用力提起右脚，使其脱离长满草的“天花板”。 顷刻之间整个世界恢复了原样。哈利一不小心跌在坚硬的地面上。这样一跌，害得他走路一踱一拐的。哈利又做了一次深呼吸，爬起来继续前进，冲出妖雾。回头望望，那金黄色的云雾此时正在朦胧月色中闪烁，好似天真无邪的孩童在眨着眼睛。 哈利在一个交叉路口处停了下来，想找找著有没有芙璐的影子。 他敢肯定刚才听到的那声尖叫是她发出的。那么她到底遇到了什么？不知现在怎样了？可是没有发出红色求救信号呀——这么说她已脱离险境，或是她深陷其中而且够不着魔杖？哈利越来越感到不安。他步入在边这条路，一边走一边却不得不这样想，一个选手倒下了…… 离冠军奖杯是越来越近了，不过芙璐似乎已与之无缘了。他该已经走到这里了，如果他实际上已经赢了怎么办？霎时间，他又仿佛觉得自己已是冠军，好像看到自己在其他同学面前高高举起了…… 后面的十分钟内地什么也没遇到，除了几处死胡同。第二次他又转错了方向。后来才找到一条新路线，并沿着它走下去。魔杖灯轻轻地晃悠着，哈利的身影在树篱上摇曳不定。又过了一个拐弯，却来到了“疾风怪物”面前。 塞德里克说得对，这怪物真是大得要命，足足有十英尺长，看起来很像一只巨蝎，长长的螫快卷曲到后背去了。厚厚的壳甲在哈利魔杖照射下银光闪闪。 “麻醉！” 魔光击中怪物的壳甲，又反射回来，哈利及时躲过，但头顶上的头发却灼烧了一些，空气中留下烧焦头发的味道。怪物接着吐出一条火龙，飞向哈利。 “阻碍！”哈利大声呼喊。魔光再次击中怪物的壳甲又反弹了出去；哈利蹒跚了几步后倒下去。“阻碍！”他继续发咒。 怪物在离他几英寸的地方应声冻结——这一次哈利成功地将魔光击入了怪物无壳甲的腹部。哈利将怪物从自己身上推开，站起来往反方向跑去——因为“障碍咒”只是暂时的，怪物很可能随时站起来。 哈利走了左边的一条小路，尽头是个死胡同；走右边的路，又碰到死胡同。他不得不停下来，心跳得厉害，似有鼓槌不停地敲打。又施用了一次“方向咒”，往回走，再踏上一条往西北方的小路。 哈利沿着新路走了几分钟，他听到路上有什么东西和自己一起跑，便突然停了下来，一动不动。 “你在干吗？”塞德里克叫喊道，“该死的你究竟要干什么？”又听到克伦说：“去死吧！” 空气中顿时传来塞德里克的阵阵叫喊声。哈利有点害怕，沿路飞跑上去，想找条路到塞德里克那儿。一无所获，他又用了一次“清除咒”。虽然威力不是很大，但总算把树篱烧穿了一个洞。哈利把脚塞进去，用力猛踢荆棘枝条，直到搞出一个大的口子。他猫腰钻了过去，把衣袍都弄坏了。右边他看到塞德里克倒在地上不断抽搐着身子，而克伦就站在一旁狠狠地盯着塞德里克。 哈利刚从洞里出来，稳了稳身子便用魔杖指着克伦。克伦抬头一看哈利来了就想转身逃跑。 “麻醉！”哈利大叫一声。 魔光击中了克伦的后背，克伦便停在路上一动不动了，紧跟往前倒了下去，脸朝下躺在草里。哈利赶忙朝塞德里克奔过去。塞德里克现在不再抽搐，只是躺在那里大口大口喘着气，双手捂着脸。 “你没事吧？”哈利抓住塞德里克的手问道。 “还好，”塞德里充气喘吁吁，“还好……我真不敢相信……他居然蹑手蹑脚地跟在我后面……我察觉到了，转身想走，他却用魔杖对付我……” 塞德里克用力站了起来，身体还在抖个不停。他和哈利低头看着躺在地上的克伦。 “我真不敢相信……我原以为他应该不会有什么毛病的。”哈利看着克伦说道。 “我也是这样想的。”塞德里克也说。 “你早些时候听到芙璐的尖叫吗？”哈利问。 “听到了，”塞德里克说，“你认为是克伦袭击了她吗？” “我不晓得。”哈利说得很慢。 “我们把他留在这里吗？”塞德里克低声问道。 “不，”哈利答道，“我想我们该发求救信号，叫人过来把他带走……否则他很可能给‘疾风怪物’吃掉的。” “他活该。”塞德里克轻声说道，但说归说做归做，他还是举起魔杖向空中发了一串红色求救信号。信号高高悬挂在克伦躺着的地面上方。 哈利和塞德里克在漆黑中站了一会儿，看看周围的动静。这时塞德里克开口了，“嗯，我想我们得继续走了……” “什么？”哈利才恍过神来，“噢，对呀，是的……” 事情真是奇怪啊。刚刚他还和塞德里克联合起来对付克伦，现在俩人却成了对手。他们沿着这条漆黑小道前进，互相都不说话，接着哈利走了左边一条路，塞德里克走右边。很快便不见塞德里克的踪影。 哈利继续前进，又用了一次“方向咒”来确定方向。现在是塞德里克和他两人之间的比赛了。他想取胜的欲望愈来愈强烈了，不过他真不敢相信克伦的所作所为。对人类用不可饶恕的咒语意味着在阿兹克班终生监禁，这是莫迪告诉他们的。克伦真的不该那么急切地想拿冠军杯……哈利想着想着，加快了步伐。 他又撞进了许多死胡同里，但不断加深的黑暗却让他确信自己离迷宫中心越来越近了。紧接着当他沿着一条又长又直的小道走下去时，他又发现有什么东西在移动。魔杖灯照到了一只很奇特的动物，哈利只是以前在一本叫《怪物巨书》的书上看过图片。 这正是一只“斯芬克斯”(狮身女怪)。它有一只大狮子的身体：硕大的爪牙，一条略带黄色的长尾巴；而头则是一个女人的头。当哈利靠近的时候，狮身女怪转了转杏眼盯着他看。哈利犹豫地举了魔杖。她没有蹲下去扑过来，却在路的两边之间不停地来回走动，不让哈利前进。 这时她发话了，嗓音低沉而沙哑，“你离目标已经很近了，而最近的办法则是从我这儿通过。” “那，那么就请你让一下好吗？”哈利这样问道，其实他知道会得到什么答案。 “不行，”女怪答道，继续在那儿走来走去，“除非你能解答我出的谜语。答出来我便让你过去。如果回答错了，我便攻击你。若是不回答，我会让你离去，并不伤害你。” 哈利听罢心里暗叫不妙。猜谜这东西可是荷米恩的拿手好戏，自己可不在行。但他反复想了想，如果谜语太难了就不回答，以便安全离开这里再去找其他线路。 “好吧，”哈利应道，“出题吧。” 狮身女怪在路中间蹲下，大声诵道：“请你先想一个人，此人常常匿身份，行动多诡秘，不说真话总撒谎。 再想何物最会补，却在中间之中间尽头之尽头？ 最后说说，查不出生词难字时，人们总把何声发？ 请你串起来，答答此问题，何种动物你不想吻？“ 哈利听着，嘴巴张得老大。 “我能在听一次……慢一点行吗？”他试问道。 女怪眨了眨眼，笑了笑，又把诗念了一遍。 “就是说所有的线索串起来等于我不想亲吻的动物？”哈利又问。 她只是神秘地笑了笑。哈利认为这便是等于说“对了”。于是哈利开动脑筋苦思冥想；他不想亲吻的动物倒是很多，首先想到的便是“疾风怪物”，但这不可能是答案，看来还得试试别的线索…… “藏匿身份的人，”哈利低声念叨，眼睛盯着女怪，“这个人老撒谎……嗯……可能是……是个骗子。不，别急，这可不是我的答案！一个、一个间谍？先想到这儿……能给我下个线索吗？” 女怪把诗的后几行重新念了一遍。 “最后才修补的东西，”哈利口中念念有词，“嗯，想不出来……中间的中间……能再把结尾重复一下吗？” 她把最后四行诗句又念了一遍。 “查找生词难字时常常发出的声音，”哈利喃喃道：“呃……那就是呃了。对，嗯！就是发‘呃’这个声音！” 女怪冲他笑了笑。 “间谍，呃，间谍，呃，”哈利走来走去，口中不断重复这几个字，“我不想亲吻的动物……对了，是蜘蛛！”(编者注：在英文中“间谍”是“Spy”，“呃”是“er”，“蜘蛛”是“Spider”。) 女怪此时满脸笑容。她站了起来，伸伸前肢，便走到一边让哈利过去了。 “谢谢！”哈利忙不迭道，还真没想到自己会这么厉害。他继续往前走。 他现在离迷宫中央是越来越近了，不过他还得……魔杖告诉他现在自己走的路一点儿没错，只要自己不再遇上什么大困难，就可能取胜了…… 前面有好几条小路，“给我方向！”哈利对着魔杖说道，魔杖转了转停下来指向右边的小路。他便跑上这条路。不一会儿地看见前面有亮光。 不足百码处，“巫术杯”正放在基座上闪闪发光。哈利正想跑过去时，一个黑影蹦了出来跑到前面去了。 看来塞德里克将比哈利先到达了。塞德里克此时正全速奔向奖杯，哈利知道自己赶不上他了，塞德里克比自己高，腿又长…… 突然哈利看见有个庞然大物从他左边树篱窜出，沿着交叉路口直奔过来。那怪物跑得很快，塞德里克差点儿就要撞上它了。而这时塞德里克眼睛只顾着奖杯，没有看到怪物正直冲过来——“塞德里克！”哈利撕喉咙大声叫喊，“你左边！” 塞德里克转头一看刚好及时飞身冲了过去，没撞上怪物，但由于太过匆忙摔了下来。魔杖从手中飞脱出去。此时一只巨蜘蛛踏上这条小路，并开始向塞德里克逼过去。 “麻醉！”哈利连忙大喊一声；魔光击中蜘蛛毛茸茸的庞大身躯。 但这一击似乎没什么用，就像是扔了一个小石头，蜘蛛怒了，猛一抽动，转过身即朝哈利奔来。 “麻醉！障碍！麻醉！” 哈利不停地喊，但没有用——可能是蜘蛛太大、太神奇了，咒语魔光没有伤到它，倒是把它激怒了。哈利抬头一瞥，正好看到了蜘蛛，八只黑眼睛发出咄咄逼人的寒光，几个巨钳状巨螫锋利如刀刃，正蠢蠢扑来。 蜘蛛把哈利举起来，哈利拼命挣扎，不断地踢它，可哈利的脚还是给它的大钳夹住了。剧痛之中，他听到塞德里克也在大喊“麻醉！” 可他的魔咒也同样没用。这时，蜘蛛又张开了大螫，说时迟那时快，哈利举起魔杖大叫一声，“解除武装！” 这次管用了。“卸武咒”一发蜘蛛便松开了大钳，不幸的是这一松使哈利从十二英尺高的地方摔了下来，本来就受伤的大腿立即跨了下去。不容多想，哈利拿起魔杖对准蜘蛛的下腹，和塞德里克同时喊出，“麻醉！” 两束魔光聚在一起顿时威力无穷——蜘蛛被击得翻滚到一边，压平了附近的树篱，毛腿散落在地上，缠结成一团。 “哈利！”塞德里克喊道，“你没事吧？它没压到你吧？” “没有。”哈利大声回答，气喘吁吁。他往下看了看，腿正流着血，残破的衣抱上粘了一些蜘蛛螫牙的分泌液，粘乎乎的。他尝试着起来，但腿晃得厉害撑不起整个身子。他只好倚靠树篱上，一边喘着粗气，一边机警地张望着。 塞德里克此时离冠军杯仅有一尺之遥。奖杯在他后面闪着微暗的金光。 “快拿起来，”哈利喘着对塞德里克喊道，“快拿起来。你已经到那儿了。” 可塞德里克站着不动，只是盯着哈利看。又回头看着奖杯。哈利看得出塞德里克脸上渴望的表情。塞德里克又回过头来望着哈利。哈利此时正借势抓住树篱站了起来。 塞德里克深吸了一口气，“你拿吧。该依赢。两次你都在关键时刻救了我的命。” “不能这么说，”哈利说。不过他还是有点生气，腿本来就痛得厉害，还强忍着痛疼除掉蜘蛛螫牙，可气的是付出这么多努力之后，塞德里克却把自己击败了，就好像他上次击败哈利请卓去聚会一样。 谁先到奖杯处谁就得分。那得分的就是你。我的腿都这样了，我再也不想去赢什么比赛了。“ 塞德里克往回走了几步靠近昏死的蜘蛛，摇着头说：“不，我不能拿。” “别清高了，”哈利一边生气地说，“把它拿起来，我们就可以尽快离开这里了！”塞德里克在一边看着哈利抓住树篱，稳了稳身子。 “你告诉过我巨龙会出现，”塞德里克开口了，“你不告诉我的话我第一轮就被淘汰了。” “那时你也帮过我呀，”哈利忙说着，拿衣服擦去腿上的血迹，“你帮我对付那个蛋，所以我们谁也不欠谁。” “是你先帮助我对付龙的呀！”塞德里克接着哈利的话说道。 “可我们仍然两清，谁也不欠谁，”哈利试着动了动腿，他刚一用力腿就抖了起来。蜘蛛扔他下来时，他把脚踝给扭了。 “第二轮比赛你本能拿更多的分数，”塞德里克仍坚持说道，“你留在了后面救人质，这个任务该我完成的。” “别说那么多了。我说真的，快拿起奖杯。”哈利喊道，脸上带着丝丝苦涩。 “不。”塞德里克坚持不拿。他跨过蜘蛛缠在一起的毛腿，来到哈利身边。哈利正盯着他看。塞德里克是认真的。他离开的不仅仅是奖杯，而且是海夫巴夫几百年来都未有过的某种荣耀。 “你去吧！”塞德里克轻声说道。他看起来有点犹豫，但表情却是坚定的。他似乎心意已决。 哈利看了看塞德里克又望了望奖杯。有一会儿他仿佛看见自己从迷宫里出来，高举着奖杯，听见人们雷鸣般的欢呼声，还有卓爱慕地望着自己，这表情比以往任何时候都清楚……不一会儿所有这一切都消失了，哈利发现自己看见的只是塞德里克有点模糊但表情很坚决的脸。 “我们两人一起拿。”哈利突然说。 “什么？” “我们同时拿它。胜利仍属于霍格瓦彻学校。我们打成平手。” 塞德里克惊讶地看着哈利，“你，你是说真的吗？” “当然，”哈利很认真，“当然啦，我们是互相帮助而来到这儿的，对吧？就让我们一起捧杯吧！” 塞德里克似乎有点不相信自己的耳朵，过了一会儿才恍过神来，露出了欣喜的笑容，笑得露出了洁白的牙齿。 “就听你的。”塞德里克轻快地说，“走，一起去拿。” 他让哈利的手臂搭在自己的肩膀上，搀扶着他一瘸一拐地走到奖杯旁两个人同时伸出手，同时握住金灿灿的奖杯。 “我数三下，好吗？”哈利说，“一、二、三——” 他和塞德里克又同时抓住奖杯另一边的把手。 顷刻间，哈利觉得有一股力量猛地扯了一下自己的身体，然后双腿便脱离地面。他的手却被死死地定在奖杯上，怎么也松不开了。 紧接着哈利和塞德里克又被往上提了起来，顿觉周围狂风咆哮起来…… |
Chapter 30 The Pensieve The door of the office opened. “Hello, Potter,” said Moody. “Come in, then.” Harry walked inside. He had been inside Dumbledore's office once before; it was a very beautiful, circular room, lined with pictures of previous headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts, all of whom were fast asleep, their chests rising and falling gently. Cornelius Fudge was standing beside Dumbledore's desk, wearing his usual pinstriped cloak and holding his lime-green bowler hat. “Harry!” said Fudge jovially, moving forward. “How are you?” “Fine,” Harry lied. “We were just talking about the night when Mr. Crouch turned up on the grounds,” said Fudge. “It was you who found him, was it not?” “Yes,” said Harry. Then, feeling it was pointless to pretend that he hadn't overheard what they had been saying, he added, “I didn't see Madame Maxime anywhere, though, and she'd have a job hiding, wouldn't she?” Dumbledore smiled at Harry behind Fudge's back, his eyes twinkling. “Yes, well,” said Fudge, looking embarrassed, “we're about to go for a short walk on the grounds, Harry, if you'll excuse us…perhaps if you just go back to your class -” “I wanted to talk to you. Professor,” Harry said quickly, looking at Dumbledore, who gave him a swift, searching look. “Wait here for me, Harry,” he said. “Our examination of the grounds will not take long.” They trooped out in silence past him and closed the door. After a minute or so, Harry heard the clunks of Moody's wooden leg growing fainter in the corridor below. He looked around. “Hello, Fawkes,” he said. Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's phoenix, was standing on his golden perch beside the door. The size of a swan, with magnificent scarlet-and-gold plumage, he swished his long tail and blinked benignly at Harry. Harry sat down in a chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. For several minutes, he sat and watched the old headmasters and headmistresses snoozing in their frames, thinking about what he had just heard, and running his fingers over his scar. It had stopped hurting now. He felt much calmer, somehow, now that he was in Dumbledore's office, knowing he would shortly be telling him about the dream. Harry looked up at the walls behind the desk. The patched and ragged Sorting Hat was standing on a shelf. A glass case next to it held a magnificent silver sword with large rubies set into the hilt, which Harry recognized as the one he himself had pulled out of the Sorting Hat in his second year. The sword had once belonged to Godric Gryffindor, founder of Harry's House. He was gazing at it, remembering how it had come to his aid when he had thought all hope was lost, when he noticed a patch of silvery light, dancing and shimmering on the glass case. He looked around for the source of the light and saw a sliver of silver-white shining brightly from within a black cabinet behind him, whose door had not been closed properly. Harry hesitated, glanced at Fawkes, then got up, walked across the office, and pulled open the cabinet door. A shallow stone basin lay there, with odd carvings around the edge: runes and symbols that Harry did not recognize. The silvery light was coming from the basin's contents, which were like nothing Harry had ever seen before. He could not tell whether the substance was liquid or gas. It was a bright, whitish silver, and it was moving ceaselessly; the surface of it became ruffled like water beneath wind, and then, like clouds, separated and swirled smoothly. It looked like light made liquid - or like wind made solid - Harry couldn't make up his mind. He wanted to touch it, to find out what it felt like, but nearly four years’ experience of the magical world told him that sticking his hand into a bowl full of some unknown substance was a very stupid thing to do. He therefore pulled his wand out of the inside of his robes, cast a nervous look around the office, looked back at the contents of the basin, and prodded them. The surface of the silvery stuff inside the basin began to swirl very fast. Harry bent closer, his head right inside the cabinet. The silvery substance had become transparent; it looked like glass. He looked down into it expecting to see the stone bottom of the basin - and saw instead an enormous room below the surface of the mysterious substance, a room into which he seemed to be looking through a circular window in the ceiling. The room was dimly lit; he thought it might even be underground, for there were no windows, merely torches in brackets such as the ones that illuminated the walls of Hogwarts. Lowering his face so that his nose was a mere inch away from the glassy substance, Harry saw that rows and rows of witches and wizards were seated around every wall on what seemed to be benches rising in levels. An empty chair stood in the very center of the room. There was something about the chair that gave Harry an ominous feeling. Chains encircled the arms of it, as though its occupants were usually tied to it. Where was this place? It surely wasn't Hogwarts; he had never seen a room like that here in the castle. Moreover, the crowd in the mysterious room at the bottom of the basin was comprised of adults, and Harry knew there were not nearly that many teachers at Hogwarts. They seemed, he thought, to be waiting for something; even though he could only see the tops of their hats, all of their faces seemed to be pointing in one direction, and none of them were talking to one another. The basin being circular, and the room he was observing square, Harry could not make out what was going on in the corners of it. He leaned even closer, tilting his head, trying to see… The tip of his nose touched the strange substance into which he was staring. Dumbledore's office gave an almighty lurch - Harry was thrown forward and pitched headfirst into the substance inside the basin - But his head did not hit the stone bottom. He was falling through something icy-cold and black; it was like being sucked into a dark whirlpool - And suddenly, Harry found himself sitting on a bench at the end of the room inside the basin, a bench raised high above the others. He looked up at the high stone ceiling, expecting to see the circular window through which he had just been staring, but there was nothing there but dark, solid stone. Breathing hard and fast. Harry looked around him. Not one of the witches and wizards in the room (and there were at least two hundred of them) was looking at him. Not one of them seemed to have noticed that a fourteen-year-old boy had just dropped from the ceiling into their midst. Harry turned to the wizard next to him on the bench and uttered a loud cry of surprise that reverberated around the silent room. He was sitting right next to Albus Dumbledore. “Professor!” Harry said in a kind of strangled whisper. “I'm sorry - I didn't mean to - I was just looking at that basin in your cabinet - I - where are we?” But Dumbledore didn't move or speak. He ignored Harry completely. Like every other wizard on the benches, he was staring into the far corner of the room, where there was a door. Harry gazed, nonplussed, at Dumbledore, then around at the silently watchful crowd, then back at Dumbledore. And then it dawned on him.… Once before. Harry had found himself somewhere that nobody could see or hear him. That time, he had fallen through a page in an enchanted diary, right into somebody else's memory…and unless he was very much mistaken, something of the sort had happened again… Harry raised his right hand, hesitated, and then waved it energetically in from of Dumbledore's face. Dumbledore did not blink, look around at Harry, or indeed move at all. And that, in Harry's opinion, settled the matter. Dumbledore wouldn't ignore him like that. He was inside a memory, and this was not the present-day Dumbledore. Yet it couldn't be that long ago…the Dumbledore sitting next to him now was silver-haired, just like the present-day Dumbledore. But what was this place? What were all these wizards waiting for? Harry looked around more carefully. The room, as he had suspected when observing it from above, was almost certainly underground - more of a dungeon than a room, he thought. There was a bleak and forbidding air about the place; there were no pictures on the walls, no decorations at all; just these serried rows of benches, rising in levels all around the room, all positioned so that they had a clear view of that chair with the chains on its arms. Before Harry could reach any conclusions about the place in which they were, he heard footsteps. The door in the corner of the dungeon opened and three people entered - or at least one man, flanked by two dementors. Harry's insides went cold. The dementors - tall, hooded creatures whose faces were concealed - were gliding slowly toward the chair in the center of the room, each grasping one of the man's arms with their dead and rotten-looking hands. The man between them looked as though he was about to faint, and Harry couldn't blame him…he knew the dementors could not touch him inside a memory, but he remembered their power only too well. The watching crowd recoiled slightly as the dementors placed the man in the chained chair and glided back out of the room. The door swung shut behind them. Harry looked down at the man now sitting in the chair and saw that it was Karkaroff. Unlike Dumbledore, Karkaroff looked much younger; his hair and goatee were black. He was not dressed in sleek furs, but in thin and ragged robes. He was shaking. Even as Harry watched, the chains on the arms of the chair glowed suddenly gold and snaked their way up Karkaroff's arms, binding him there. “Igor Karkaroff,” said a curt voice to Harry's left. Harry looked around and saw Mr. Crouch standing up in the middle of the bench beside him. Crouch's hair was dark, his face was much less lined, he looked fit and alert. “You have been brought from Azkaban to present evidence to the Ministry of Magic. You have given us to understand that you have important information for us.” Karkaroff straightened himself as best he could, tightly bound to the chair. “I have, sir,” he said, and although his voice was very scared, Harry could still hear the familiar unctuous note in it. “I wish to be of use to the Ministry. I wish to help. I - I know that the Ministry is trying to - to round up the last of the Dark Lords supporters. I am eager to assist in any way I can.…” There was a murmur around the benches. Some of the wizards and witches were surveying Karkaroff with interest, others with pronounced mistrust. Then Harry heard, quite distinctly, from Dumbledores other side, a familiar, growling voice saying, “Filth.” Harry leaned forward so that he could see past Dumbledore. Mad-Eye Moody was sitting there - except that there was a very noticeable difference in his appearance. He did not have his magical eye, but two normal ones. Both were looking down upon Karkaroff, and both were narrowed in intense dislike. “Crouch is going to let him out,” Moody breathed quietly to Dumbledore. “He's done a deal with him. Took me six months to track him down, and Crouch is going to let him go if he's got enough new names. Let's hear his information, I say, and throw him straight back to the dementors.” Dumbledore made a small noise of dissent through his long, crooked nose. “Ah, I was forgetting…you don't like the dementors, do you, Albus?” said Moody with a sardonic smile. “No,” said Dumbledore calmly, “I'm afraid I don't. I have long felt the Ministry is wrong to ally itself with such creatures.” “But for filth like this…” Moody said softly. “You say you have names for us, Karkaroff,” said Mr. Crouch. “Let us hear them, please.” “You must understand,” said Karkaroff hurriedly, “that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named operated always in the greatest secrecy.…He preferred that we - I mean to say, his supporters - and I regret now, very deeply, that I ever counted myself among them -” “Get on with it,” sneered Moody. “- we never knew the names of every one of our fellows - He alone knew exactly who we all were -” “Which was a wise move, wasn't it, as it prevented someone like you, Karkaroff, from turning all of them in,” muttered Moody. “Yet you say you have some names for us?” said Mr. Crouch. “I - I do,” said Karkaroff breathlessly. “And these were important supporters, mark you. People I saw with my own eyes doing his bidding. I give this information as a sign that I fully and totally renounce him, and am filled with a remorse so deep I can barely -” “These names are?” said Mr. Crouch sharply. Karkaroff drew a deep breath. “There was Antonin Dolohov,” he said. “I - I saw him torture countless Muggles and - and non-supporters of the Dark Lord.” “And helped him do it,” murmured Moody. “We have already apprehended Dolohov,” said Crouch. “He was caught shortly after yourself.” “Indeed?” said Karkaroff, his eyes widening. “I - I am delighted to hear it!” But he didn't look it. Harry could tell that this news had come as a real blow to him. One of his names was worthless. “Any others?” said Crouch coldly. “Why, yes…there was Rosier,” said Karkaroff hurriedly. “Evan Rosier.” “Rosier is dead,” said Crouch. “He was caught shortly after you were too. He preferred to fight rather than come quietly and was killed in the struggle.” “Took a bit of me with him, though,” whispered Moody to Harry's right. Harry looked around at him once more, and saw him indicating the large chunk out of his nose to Dumbledore. “No - no more than Rosier deserved!” said Karkaroff, a real note of panic in his voice now. Harry could see that he was starting to worry that none of his information would be of any use to the Ministry. Karkaroff's eyes darted toward the door in the corner, behind which the dementors undoubtedly still stood, waiting. “Any more?” said Crouch. “Yes!” said Karkaroff. “There was Travers - he helped murder the McKinnons! Mulciber - he specialized in the Imperius Curse, forced countless people to do horrific things! Rookwood, who was a spy, and passed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named useful information from inside the Ministry itself!” Harry could tell that, this time, Karkaroff had struck gold. The watching crowd was all murmuring together. “Rookwood?” said Mr. Crouch, nodding to a witch sitting in front of him, who began scribbling upon her piece of parchment. “Augustus Rookwood of the Department of Mysteries?” “The very same,” said Karkaroff eagerly. “I believe he used a network of well-placed wizards, both inside the Ministry and out, to collect information -” “But Travers and Mulciber we have,” said Mr. Crouch. “Very well, Karkaroff, if that is all, you will be returned to Azkaban while we decide -” “Not yet!” cried Karkaroff, looking quite desperate. “Wait, I have more!” Harry could see him sweating in the torchlight, his white skin contrasting strongly with the black of his hair and beard. “Snape!” he shouted. “Severus Snape!” “Snape has been cleared by this council,” said Crouch disdainfully. “He has been vouched for by Albus Dumbledore.” “No!” shouted Karkaroff, straining at the chains that bound him to the chair. “I assure you! Severus Snape is a Death Eater!” Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. “I have given evidence already on this matter,” he said calmly. “Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater. However, he rejoined our side before Lord Voldemort's downfall and turned spy for us, at great personal risk. He is now no more a Death Eater than I am.” Harry turned to look at Mad-Eye Moody. He was wearing a look of deep skepticism behind Dumbledore's back. “Very well, Karkaroff,” Crouch said coldly, “you have been of assistance. I shall review your case. You will return to Azkaban in the meantime.…” Mr. Crouch's voice faded. Harry looked around; the dungeon was dissolving as though it were made of smoke; everything was fading; he could see only his own body - all else was swirling darkness.… And then, the dungeon returned. Harry was sitting in a different seat, still on the highest bench, but now to the left side of Mr. Crouch. The atmosphere seemed quite different: relaxed, even cheerful. The witches and wizards all around the walls were talking to one another, almost as though they were at some sort of sporting event. Harry noticed a witch halfway up the rows of benches opposite. She had short blonde hair, was wearing magenta robes, and was sucking the end of an acid-green quill. It was, unmistakably, a younger Rita Skeeter. Harry looked around; Dumbledore was sitting beside him again, wearing different robes. Mr. Crouch looked more tired and somehow fiercer, gaunter.…Harry understood. It was a different memory, a different day…a different trial. The door in the corner opened, and Ludo Bagman walked into the room. This was not, however, a Ludo Bagman gone to seed, but a Ludo Bagman who was clearly at the height of his Quidditch-playing fitness. His nose wasn't broken now; he was tall and lean and muscular. Bagman looked nervous as he sat down in the chained chair, but it did not bind him there as it had bound Karkaroff, and Bagman, perhaps taking heart from this, glanced around at the watching crowd, waved at a couple of them, and managed a small smile. “Ludo Bagman, you have been brought here in front of the Council of Magical Law to answer charges relating to the activities of the Death Eaters,” said Mr. Crouch. “We have heard the evidence against you, and are about to reach our verdict. Do you have anything to add to your testimony before we pronounce judgment?” Harry couldn't believe his ears. Ludo Bagman, a Death Eater? “Only,” said Bagman, smiling awkwardly, “well - I know I've been a bit of an idiot -” One or two wizards and witches in the surrounding seats smiled indulgently. Mr. Crouch did not appear to share their feelings. He was staring down at Ludo Bagman with an expression of the utmost severity and dislike. “You never spoke a truer word, boy,” someone muttered dryly to Dumbledore behind Harry. He looked around and saw Moody sitting there again. “If I didn't know he'd always been dim, I'd have said some of those Bludgers had permanently affected his brain.…” “Ludovic Bagman, you were caught passing information to Lord Voldemort's supporters,” said Mr. Crouch. “For this, I suggest a term of imprisonment in Azkaban lasting no less than -” But there was an angry outcry from the surrounding benches. Several of the witches and wizards around the walls stood up, shaking their heads, and even their fists, at Mr. Crouch. “But I've told you, I had no idea!” Bagman called earnestly over the crowd's babble, his round blue eyes widening. “None at all! Old Rookwood was a friend of my dad's…never crossed my mind he was in with You-Know-Who! I thought I was collecting information for our side! And Rookwood kept talking about getting me a job in the Ministry later on…once my Quidditch days are over, you know…I mean, I can't keep getting hit by Bludgers for the rest of my life, can I?” There were titters from the crowd. “It will be put to the vote,” said Mr. Crouch coldly. He turned to the right-hand side of the dungeon. “The jury will please raise their hands…those in favor of imprisonment…” Harry looked toward the right-hand side of the dungeon. Not one person raised their hand. Many of the witches and wizards around the walls began to clap. One of the witches on the jury stood up. “Yes?” barked Crouch. “We'd just like to congratulate Mr. Bagman on his splendid performance for England in the Quidditch match against Turkey last Saturday,” the witch said breathlessly. Mr. Crouch looked furious. The dungeon was ringing with applause now. Bagman got to his feet and bowed, beaming. “Despicable,” Mr. Crouch spat at Dumbledore, sitting down as Bagman walked out of the dungeon. “Rookwood get him a job indeed.…The day Ludo Bagman joins us will be a sad day indeed for the Ministry.…” And the dungeon dissolved again. When it had returned, Harry looked around. He and Dumbledore were still sitting beside Mr. Crouch, but the atmosphere could not have been more different. There was total silence, broken only by the dry sobs of a frail, wispy-looking witch in the seat next to Mr. Crouch. She was clutching a handkerchief to her mouth with trembling hands. Harry looked up at Crouch and saw that he looked gaunter and grayer than ever before. A nerve was twitching in his temple. “Bring them in,” he said, and his voice echoed through the silent dungeon. The door in the corner opened yet again. Six dementors entered this time, flanking a group of four people. Harry saw the people in the crowd turn to look up at Mr. Crouch. A few of them whispered to one another. The dementors placed each of the four people in the four chairs with chained arms that now stood on the dungeon floor. There was a thickset man who stared blankly up at Crouch; a thinner and more nervous-looking man, whose eyes were darting around the crowd; a woman with thick, shining dark hair and heavily hooded eyes, who was sitting in the chained chair as though it were a throne; and a boy in his late teens, who looked nothing short of petrified. He was shivering, his straw-colored hair all over his face, his freckled skin milk-white. The wispy little witch beside Crouch began to rock backward and forward in her seat, whimpering into her handkerchief. Crouch stood up. He looked down upon the four in front of him, and there was pure hatred in his face. “You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law,” he said clearly, “so that we may pass judgment on you, for a crime so heinous -” “Father,” said the boy with the straw-colored hair. “Father…please…” “- that we have rarely heard the like of it within this court,” said Crouch, speaking more loudly, drowning out his son's voice. “We have heard the evidence against you. The four of you stand accused of capturing an Auror - Frank Longbottom - and subjecting him to the Cruciatus Curse, believing him to have knowledge of the present whereabouts of your exiled master, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named -” “Father, I didn't!” shrieked the boy in chains below. “I didn't, I swear it. Father, don't send me back to the dementors -” “You are further accused,” bellowed Mr. Crouch, “of using the Cruciatus Curse on Frank Longbottom's wife, when he would not give you information. You planned to restore He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to power, and to resume the lives of violence you presumably led while he was strong. I now ask the jury -” “Mother!” screamed the boy below, and the wispy little witch beside Crouch began to sob, rocking backward and forward. “Mother, stop him. Mother, I didn't do it, it wasn't me!” “I now ask the jury,” shouted Mr. Crouch, “to raise their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban!” In unison, the witches and wizards along the right-hand side of the dungeon raised their hands. The crowd around the walls began to clap as it had for Bagman, their faces full of savage triumph. The boy began to scream. “No! Mother, no! I didn't do it, I didn't do it, I didn't know! Don't send me there, don't let him!” The dementors were gliding back into the room. The boys’ three companions rose quietly from their seats; the woman with the heavy-lidded eyes looked up at Crouch and called, “The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban; we will wait! He will rise again and will come for us, he will reward us beyond any of his other supporters! We alone were faithful! We alone tried to find him!” But the boy was trying to fight off the dementors, even though Harry could see their cold, draining power starting to affect him. The crowd was jeering, some of them on their feet, as the woman swept out of the dungeon, and the boy continued to struggle. “I'm your son!” he screamed up at Crouch. “I'm your son!” “You are no son of mine!” bellowed Mr. Crouch, his eyes bulging suddenly. “I have no son!” The wispy witch beside him gave a great gasp and slumped in her seat. She had fainted. Crouch appeared not to have noticed. “Take them away!” Crouch roared at the dementors, spit flying from his mouth. “Take them away, and may they rot there!” “Father! Father, I wasn't involved! No! No! Father, please!” “I think. Harry, it is time to return to my office,” said a quiet voice in Harry's ear. Harry started. He looked around. Then he looked on his other side. There was an Albus Dumbledore sitting on his right, watching Crouch's son being dragged away by the dementors - and there was an Albus Dumbledore on his left, looking right at him. “Come,” said the Dumbledore on his left, and he put his hand under Harry's elbow. Harry felt himself rising into the air; the dungeon dissolved around him; for a moment, all was blackness, and then he felt as though he had done a slow-motion somersault, suddenly landing flat on his feet, in what seemed like the dazzling light of Dumbledore's sunlit office. The stone basin was shimmering in the cabinet in front of him, and Albus Dumbledore was standing beside him. “Professor,” Harry gasped, “I know I shouldn't've - I didn't mean - the cabinet door was sort of open and -” “I quite understand,” said Dumbledore. He lifted the basin, carried it over to his desk, placed it upon the polished top, and sat down in the chair behind it. He motioned for Harry to sit down opposite him. Harry did so, staring at the stone basin. The contents had returned to their original, silvery-white state, swirling and rippling beneath his gaze. “What is it?” Harry asked shakily. “This? It is called a Pensieve,” said Dumbledore. “I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind.” “Er,” said Harry, who couldn't truthfully say that he had ever felt anything of the sort. “At these times,” said Dumbledore, indicating the stone basin, “I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure. It becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you understand, when they are in this form.” “You mean…that stuff's your thoughts?” Harry said, staring at the swirling white substance in the basin. “Certainly,” said Dumbledore. “Let me show you.” Dumbledore drew his wand out of the inside of his robes and placed the tip into his own silvery hair, near his temple. When he took the wand away, hair seemed to be clinging to it - but then Harry saw that it was in fact a glistening strand of the same strange silvery-white substance that filled the Pensieve. Dumbledore added this fresh thought to the basin, and Harry, astonished, saw his own face swimming around the surface of the bowl. Dumbledore placed his long hands on either side of the Pensieve and swirled it, rather as a gold prospector would pan for fragments of gold.…and Harry saw his own face change smoothly into Snape's, who opened his mouth and spoke to the ceiling, his voice echoing slightly. “It's coming back…Karkaroff's too…stronger and clearer than ever…” “A connection I could have made without assistance,” Dumbledore sighed, “but never mind.” He peered over the top of his half-moon spectacles at Harry, who was gaping at Snape's face, which was continuing to swirl around the bowl. “I was using the Pensieve when Mr. Fudge arrived for our meeting and put it away rather hastily. Undoubtedly I did not fasten the cabinet door properly. Naturally, it would have attracted your attention.” “I'm sorry,” Harry mumbled. Dumbledore shook his head. “Curiosity is not a sin,” he said. “But we should exercise caution with our curiosity…yes, indeed…” Frowning slightly, he prodded the thoughts within the basin with the tip of his wand. Instantly, a figure rose out of it, a plump, scowling girl of about sixteen, who began to revolve slowly, with her feet still in the basin. She took no notice whatsoever of Harry or Professor Dumbledore. When she spoke, her voice echoed as Snape's had done, as though it were coming from the depths of the stone basin. “He put a hex on me, Professor Dumbledore, and I was only teasing him, sir, I only said I'd seen him kissing Florence behind the greenhouses last Thursday.…” “But why. Bertha,” said Dumbledore sadly, looking up at the now silently revolving girl, “why did you have to follow him in the first place?” “Bertha?” Harry whispered, looking up at her. “Is that - was that Bertha Jorkins?” “Yes,” said Dumbledore, prodding the thoughts in the basin again; Bertha sank back into them, and they became silvery and opaque once more. “That was Bertha as I remember her at school.” The silvery light from the Pensieve illuminated Dumbledore's face, and it struck Harry suddenly how very old he was looking. He knew, of course, that Dumbledore was getting on in years, but somehow he never really thought of Dumbledore as an old man. “So, Harry,” said Dumbledore quietly. “Before you got lost in my thoughts, you wanted to tell me something.” “Yes,” said Harry. “Professor - I was in Divination just now, and - er - I fell asleep.” He hesitated here, wondering if a reprimand was coming, but Dumbledore merely said, “Quite understandable. Continue.” “Well, I had a dream,” said Harry. “A dream about Lord Voldemort. He was torturing Wormtail…you know who Wormtail-” “I do know,” said Dumbledore promptly. “Please continue.” “Voldemort got a letter from an owl. He said something like, Wormtail's blunder had been repaired. He said someone was dead. Then he said, Wormtail wouldn't be fed to the snake - there was a snake beside his chair. He said - he said he'd be feeding me to it, instead. Then he did the Cruciatus Curse on Wormtail - and my scar hurt,” Harry said. “It woke me up, it hurt so badly.” Dumbledore merely looked at him. “Er - that's all,” said Harry. “I see,” said Dumbledore quietly. “I see. Now, has your scar hurt at any other time this year, excepting the time it woke you up over the summer?” “No, I - how did you know it woke me up over the summer?” said Harry, astonished. “You are not Sirius's only correspondent,” said Dumbledore. “I have also been in contact with him ever since he left Hogwarts last year. It was I who suggested the mountainside cave as the safest place for him to stay.” Dumbledore got up and began walking up and down behind his desk. Every now and then, he placed his wand tip to his temple, removed another shining silver thought, and added it to the Pensieve. The thoughts inside began to swirl so fast that Harry couldn't make out anything clearly: It was merely a blur of color. “Professor?” he said quietly, after a couple of minutes. Dumbledore stopped pacing and looked at Harry. “My apologies,” he said quietly. He sat back down at his desk. “D'you - d'you know why my scar's hurting me?” Dumbledore looked very intently at Harry for a moment, and then said, “I have a theory, no more than that.…It is my belief that your scar hurts both when Lord Voldemort is near you, and when he is feeling a particularly strong surge of hatred.” “But…why?” “Because you and he are connected by the curse that failed,” said Dumbledore. “That is no ordinary scar.” “So you think…that dream…did it really happen?” “It is possible,” said Dumbledore. “I would say - probable. Harry - did you see Voldemort?” “No,” said Harry. “Just the back of his chair. But - there wouldn't have been anything to see, would there? I mean, he hasn't got a body, has he? But…but then how could he have held the wand?” Harry said slowly. “How indeed?” muttered Dumbledore. “How indeed…” Neither Dumbledore nor Harry spoke for a while. Dumbledore was gazing across the room, and, every now and then, placing his wand tip to his temple and adding another shining silver thought to the seething mass within the Pensieve. “Professor,” Harry said at last, “do you think he's getting stronger?” “Voldemort?” said Dumbledore, looking at Harry over the Pensieve. It was the characteristic, piercing look Dumbledore had given him on other occasions, and always made Harry feel as though Dumbledore were seeing right through him in a way that even Moody's magical eye could not. “Once again. Harry, I can only give you my suspicions.” Dumbledore sighed again, and he looked older, and wearier, than ever. “The years of Voldemort's ascent to power,” he said, “were marked with disappearances. Bertha Jorkins has vanished without a trace in the place where Voldemort was certainly known to be last. Mr. Crouch too has disappeared…within these very grounds. And there was a third disappearance, one which the Ministry, I regret to say, do not consider of any importance, for it concerns a Muggle. His name was Frank Bryce, he lived in the village where Voldemort's father grew up, and he has not been seen since last August. You see, I read the Muggle newspapers, unlike most of my Ministry friends.” Dumbledore looked very seriously at Harry. “These disappearances seem to me to be linked. The Ministry disagrees - as you may have heard, while waiting outside my office.” Harry nodded. Silence fell between them again, Dumbledore extracting thoughts every now and then. Harry felt as though he ought to go, but his curiosity held him in his chair. “Professor?” he said again. “Yes, Harry?” said Dumbledore. “Er…could I ask you about…that court thing I was in…in the Pensieve?” “You could,” said Dumbledore heavily. “I attended it many times, but some trials come back to me more clearly than others…particularly now.…” “You know - you know the trial you found me in? The one with Crouch's son? Well.…were they talking about Neville's parents?” Dumbledore gave Harry a very sharp look. ” Has Neville never told you why he has been brought up by his grandmother?” he said. Harry shook his head, wondering, as he did so, how he could have failed to ask Neville this, in almost four years of knowing him. “Yes, they were talking about Neville's parents,” said Dumbledore. “His father, Frank, was an Auror just like Professor Moody. He and his wife were tortured for information about Voldemort's whereabouts after he lost his powers, as you heard.” “So they're dead?” said Harry quietly. “No,” said Dumbledore, his voice full of a bitterness Harry had never heard there before. “They are insane. They are both in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I believe Neville visits them, with his grandmother, during the holidays. They do not recognize him.” Harry sat there, horror-struck. He had never known…never, in four years, bothered to find out… “The Longbottoms were very popular,” said Dumbledore. “The attacks on them came after Voldemort's fall from power, just when everyone thought they were safe. Those attacks caused a wave of fury such as I have never known. The Ministry was under great pressure to catch those who had done it. Unfortunately, the Longbottoms’ evidence was - given their condition - none too reliable.” “Then Mr. Crouch's son might not have been involved?” said Harry slowly. Dumbledore shook his head. “As to that, I have no idea.” Harry sat in silence once more, watching the contents of the Pensieve swirl. There were two more questions he was burning to ask…but they concerned the guilt of living people.… “Er,” he said, “Mr. Bagman.…” “…has never been accused of any Dark activity since,” said Dumbledore calmly. “Right,” said Harry hastily, staring at the contents of the Pensieve again, which were swirling more slowly now that Dumbledore had stopped adding thoughts. “And…er…” But the Pensieve seemed to be asking his question for him. Snape's face was swimming on the surface again. Dumbledore glanced down into it, and then up at Harry. “No more has Professor Snape,” he said. Harry looked into Dumbledore's light blue eyes, and the thing he really wanted to know spilled out of his mouth before he could stop it. “What made you think he'd really stopped supporting Voldemort, Professor?” Dumbledore held Harry's gaze for a few seconds, and then said, “That, Harry, is a matter between Professor Snape and myself.” Harry knew that the interview was over; Dumbledore did not look angry, yet there was a finality in his tone that told Harry it was time to go. He stood up, and so did Dumbledore. “Harry,” he said as Harry reached the door. “Please do not speak about Neville's parents to anybody else. He has the right to let people know, when he is ready.” “Yes, Professor,” said Harry, turning to go. “And-” Harry looked back. Dumbledore was standing over the Pensieve, his face lit from beneath by its silvery spots of light, looking older than ever. He stared at Harry for a moment, and then said, “Good luck with the third task.” 第三十章 班西福 办公室的门开了。 “哈罗，波特，”莫迪说，“进来吧。” 哈利走进来。他以前曾进过丹伯多的办公室；它是一个非常漂亮的圆形房间，墙上排列着霍格瓦彻历届校长和夫人的照片，他们都睡得很熟，胸膛在微微起伏。 法治站在丹伯多的桌子旁边，穿着他平时的细条纹大衣，戴着项灰绿色的圆顶硬礼帽。 “哈利！”法治快活地叫着走向前，“你好吗？” “很好！”哈利撒谎说。 “我们正在谈那晚克劳斯先生在森林里被发现的事。”法治说：“是你发现他的吧？” “是的，”哈利说。然后，他觉得假装刚才没有在门外听到他们的谈话有点不礼貌，他加上一句：“我当时到处也没见玛西姆夫人，也许她有工作要做，不是吗？” 丹伯多在法治背后对他笑，眨眨眼睛。 “是吗。”法治看起来很尴尬，“我们正要到森林里去一下，哈利，所以请原谅……或许你先回教室——” “我要和您谈谈，教授。”哈利飞快地说，看着丹伯多，后者用询问的眼光瞄了他一眼。“在这儿等我，哈利，”丹伯多说，“我们很快就回来，不会花太长时间的。” 他们一起出去了，并关上门。过了一两分钟，哈利听到下面莫迪的木腿敲着地面的声音越走越远，他看看周围。 “哈罗，达摩克。”他说。 达摩克，教授的凤凰鸟，正站在门旁的金栖木上。它的体型和天鹅一样大，鲜红和金色相间的羽毛非常漂亮。它正沙沙地动了动它的长尾巴，亲切地看着哈利。 哈利在丹伯多的桌子前坐下。有好几分钟，他坐在那儿看着老校长和夫人们在相框里面打着盹，心里想着他刚才听到的话，用手摸摸他的疤痕，现在它不疼了。 他觉得平静了些，因为怎么说他已经在丹伯多的办公室里了，不久就可以告诉他关于那个梦，哈利抬起头看向桌子后面的墙：打满补丁，破破烂烂的帽子正放在一个架子上，它旁边是一个玻璃盒子，里面装着一把非常漂亮的银剑，一颗大红宝石键在柄上，他认出来这就是他在二年级时从帽子里抽出来的那把剑，它曾属于哥德里克。格林芬顿，——哈利所住的那间房子的建造者。他凝视着它，想起当初，他在绝望的时候，它曾帮了他多大的忙啊。这时他注意到一小片银光在玻璃盒上跳跃，闪烁不定。他看看周围，想找出光线的来源，然后他看到一道银白的亮光正从他后面的一个黑橱柜里射出来，因为橱柜的门没有关好。哈利犹豫了一下，瞥了达摩克一眼，然后站起来走到橱柜面前，把门打开。 一个浅浅的石盆放在那儿，边缘饰有古怪的雕刻，像是一些古怪的字母和符号，哈利一个也不认识；这银色的光是来自于盆里装的东西，它不像哈利以前见过的任何东西。他甚至不知道这种物质。是液体还是气体，它带一种明亮的银白，还在不停地移动；它的表面像风吹过水面一样起着涟漪，然而，又像云一样，一会儿分开，一会儿打转。它像光的液体——又像风的固体——哈利很难断定。 他想碰碰它，看它感觉起来像什么，但在魔法世界里生活的四年经验告诉他，把手伸到一盆不知道是什么的物质里去是件非常愚蠢的事。所以他把手伸到袍子里，拿出魔杖，紧张地看了看办公室周围，眼光再转回盆子里装的东西。他用棒戳了戳它。这银色物质的表面马上开始旋转，越转越快。 哈利弯下腰，把头伸进了橱柜。这银色物质已经变得像玻璃一样透明。他想看着盆的底部有什么——谁知却看到这神秘的物质的表面下是一个很大的房间。他就像透过天花板上的一个圆窗户看下去一样。 这个房间光线很暗，他甚至想它应该是在地底，因为那儿没有窗户，只有从墙上突出来的托架上放着火把，就像霍格瓦彻用来照明的那种一样，他把脸凑得那么近，鼻子都几乎碰到了那层玻璃物质。哈利看到很多女巫和男巫围成一圈，坐在靠墙的一排排阶梯凳子上。 房间的正中间有一把空椅子，这椅子给哈利一种不祥的感觉，椅子的扶手是围拢着的，就像要把坐在上面的人绑在上面。 这是什么地方？肯定不是霍格瓦彻；他在城堡里从来没见过这样一个房间。此外，盆底显现出来的那房间里的人都是大人。哈利觉得这当中没有一个是霍格瓦彻的老师。他们看起来好像在等着什么，哈利想。虽然他只能看到他们的帽尖，但他们看起来都面对着一个方向，没人交头接耳。 因为石盆是圆的，而那个他正视察的房间是方的，所以他看不见角落里发生了什么事，他靠得更近了，头倾得更低，想看看…… 他的鼻尖碰到了那奇异的物质。 突然，丹伯多的办公室剧烈地摇晃起来——哈利被向前抛去，一头栽到了那盆里装的东西里去。 但他的头并没有碰到盆底，他掉到又黑又冰冷的什么东西里去了，他一直在往下陷，好像被吸进了一个黑色的漩涡。 突然，他发现自己就坐在那个房间里的凳子上，那凳子比其它的都高。他看着那高高的石头天花板，想看到一扇圆形的窗户，他刚才就是从那儿看下来的。但是那什么也没有，只有又黑又硬的石头。 哈利拼命地喘着气，看了看他周围。房间里没有一个女巫或巫师(至少有两百个)在看他。他们中看起来没有一个人注意到有个十四岁的男孩刚刚从天花板上掉下来，并且掉到他们中间里来。哈利转向坐在他旁边的一个巫师，突然失声惊呼，那叫声回荡在一片死寂的房间里。 他就正坐在艾伯斯。丹伯多的身边。 “教授！”哈利压低声音说，“我很抱歉——我不是真的想——我只是看看你橱柜里的石盆——我——我在哪？” 但教授一动不动，也没说话，完全忽视了哈利的存在，只是像其它人一样，盯着房间远处的角落里的一扇门。 哈利不知所措地盯着丹伯多，然后看了看正在静静观看的人群，然后再看着丹伯多。突然灵光一闪…… 曾经有一次，哈利发现自己在一个别人既看不到也听不到他的世界里。那次，他掉进了一本施了魔法的日记里，进入了某人的记忆中……类似的事情又一次发生了。 哈利举起右手，犹豫了一下，然后伸到丹伯多面前用力挥动。丹伯多没有眨眼，也没有回过头看哈利，或者说根本一动也不动。所以他确定，他是在一个记忆中，而眼前这个并不是现实中的丹伯多。但应该也不是很久以前……这个正坐在他旁边的丹伯多的头发银白，就像现实中的丹伯多一样。但这是什么地方呢？这所有的巫师都在等什么呢？ 哈利更仔细地打量这里。就像他刚才从上面观察时所怀疑的那样，这个房间就是在地下——与其说是房间不如说像地牢，他想。这里有一种阴森寒冷和恐怖的气氛：墙上没有画，根本就没任何装饰；整个房间就只有一排排的席位，一排比一排高，都固定好了，所以他们可以清楚地看到那椅子的扶手上有铁链。 在哈利对这个房间下结论前，他听到了一阵脚步声。地牢角落的那扇门开了，三个人走进来——一个人由两个得蒙特押着。 哈利全身发冷。那些得蒙特——高大的，戴着头盔只有眼露出来的生物正向房间中央的那个椅子滑去，每人抓着那男人的一只手臂。他们的手像死人的，已经腐烂的手，那个夹在他们中间的人看起就快晕过去了。哈利想这不能怪他……虽然他知道得蒙特不会碰到他自己，因为这是在一个记忆里，但他仍然有点害怕，因为他还清楚地记得他们有多强大。当得蒙特把那人放在有链的椅子上后，又滑出房间时，围观的人群向后退缩了一下，门在他们出去之后关上了。 哈利低头看着椅子上坐着的那个人，原来他是卡克罗夫。 不像丹伯多，卡克罗夫看起来年轻多了；他的头发和山羊胡子都是黑的。但不同的事是他穿着又薄又破的衣服而不是光滑的皮衣，他在发抖。椅子上的铁链突然闪出金光，像蛇一样爬上他的手臂，把他绑在那儿。 “艾格。卡克罗夫。”哈利的左边突然冒出一个声音。他向四周看看，看到克劳斯先生正站在他旁边席位的中间。克劳斯的头发还是黑色的，脸还没有那么多皱纹，看起来又凉爽又敏捷。“你是从阿兹克班被带来给魔法部提供证据的，你曾说你有重要的消息要告诉我们。” 卡克罗夫连忙挺直身体。 “我有，先生。”他说，虽然他的声音听起来非常害怕，哈利仍然听出了熟悉的油腔滑调。“我希望对魔法部有用，我想帮忙。我——我知道魔法部要围捕黑暗公爵的最后一批余党。我渴望尽我最大的努力帮忙……” 观众席上响起一阵嗡嗡声。有些人开始对卡克罗夫感兴趣，其他从则表示怀疑。猛地，一个熟悉低吼声从丹伯多的另一边传来说：“垃圾！” 哈利向前倾，目光越过丹伯多。果然，魔眼莫迪坐在那儿——虽然他外表与现在显著不同。他还没有魔眼，只有两只普通眼睛。他正眯着眼睛看着卡克罗夫，带着极度的厌恶。 “克劳斯准备放他出来，”莫迪小声对丹伯多说，“他已经和他达成一笔交易。花了我六个月时间去追捕他，如果他能提供足够的新名单的话，克劳斯就让他走。让我们先听听他的情报，我说，之后再把他直接扔给得蒙特好了。” 丹伯多那长长的鹰钩鼻轻哼了一声表示不同意。 “哦，我忘了……你不喜欢得蒙特，不是吗，艾伯斯？”莫迪的脸上带着嘲讽的笑。 “是的，”丹伯多淡淡地说，“我不喜欢它们，我一直觉得魔法部与这种生物结盟是个错误。” “但对这种垃圾……”莫迪轻声说。 “你说你能向我们提供名字，卡克罗夫，”克劳斯先生说，“那就请说出来听听。” “您应该明白。”卡克罗夫急忙说，“那个‘那个人’总是以最秘密的方式操纵一切……他喜欢那样，我们——我是说，他的支持者们——现在我很懊悔，非常的后悔，我曾经是他们中的一员——” “说下去啊！”莫迪嗤之以鼻。 “——我们从来不知道自己同伙的名字——只有他一个人知道我们所有的人都是谁——” “真是个聪明的主意，这样就保护了像你这样的人，卡克罗夫，而把其它人都给出卖了。”莫迪咕哝着。 “但你说你能给我们名字？”克劳斯先生说。 “我，我能。”卡克罗夫上气不接下气地说，“他们是很重要的党徒，不怕告诉您，我看到了他，他在等候时机，我提供这个情报表示我彻底和他决裂，而且对他表示深切的怜悯和同情，我几乎不……” “他们的名字是？”克劳斯先生严厉地说。 卡克罗夫作了一个深呼吸。 “是安东尼。多拉邦弗。”他说，“我——我看到他无数次地折磨拷打马格人和……不支持黑暗公爵的人。” “还帮他一起折磨他们。”莫迪咕哝着。 “我们已经拘捕了多拉邦弗，”克劳斯说：“他在你之后不久就被抓住了。” “真的？”卡克罗夫说，他的眼睛睁得大大的，“我——我很高——兴听到这个消息！” 但他看起来一点也不。哈利想这对他真是一大打击，他能提供的名字中有一个已经没用了。 “还有其它吗？”克劳斯冷冷地说。 “为什么，当然……还有罗斯尔，”卡克罗夫急忙说，“埃文。罗斯尔。” “罗斯尔已经死了，他在你之后不久也被抓住了。他看起来，更喜欢反抗而不是乖乖地来，所以在顽抗中被打死了。” “那把我的功劳也说说啊。”莫迪对哈利右边的人低声说，哈利再看了看他，只见他正把鼻子里插着的大木块指给丹伯多看。 “不——不过分，这是他罪有应得！”卡克罗夫说，声音里夹着一丝恐慌，可以看出，他开始害怕他的情报没有一个有用。卡克罗夫的眼睛盯着角落里的那扇门，毫无疑问，得蒙特正在门后守着。 “还有吗？“克劳斯说。 “有！”卡克罗夫。“还有特雷维斯——他谋杀了麦金得斯！马尔希伯——他擅长英帕雷斯咒语，驱使无数的人去做可怕的事！罗克乌得，他是个间谍，专门从魔法部里向‘那个人’传递情报！” 可以说，这次卡克罗夫的话起作用了，观众开始交头接耳。 “罗克乌得？”克劳斯先生说，他向一个坐在他前面的女巫点了点头，后者马上在羊皮纸上刷刷地写着，“神秘事件分部的罗克乌得吗？” “不错，”卡克罗夫急忙说，“我想他操纵着一个关系网，那些人专门负责从魔法部里外收集情报——” “但是我们已经知道特雷维斯和马尔希伯了，”克劳斯先生说，“非常好，卡克罗夫，如果就是这些，你可以先回阿兹克班等我们决定——” “还没完！”卡克罗夫叫道，看起来很绝望。“等一等，我还有更多！” 在火把微弱的光芒下，哈利看到他冷汗直流，脸色白得吓人，和他黑色的头发和胡子形成强烈的对比。 “史纳皮！”他叫道，“塞维罗斯。史纳皮！” “史纳皮已经被议会排除在外了，”克劳斯冷冷地说：“艾伯斯。丹伯多先生为他担保。” “不可能！”卡克罗夫吼道，身上的链子绷得紧紧的。“我向您保 证！塞维罗斯。史纳皮是个食尸者！“ 丹伯多站起来。“为此我已经提供证明。”他平静地说，“塞维罗斯。史纳皮确实是个食尸者。但在福尔得库特公爵垮台之前，他就已经转向我们这边了，并为我们作卧底提供情报。他个人是冒着生命危险的。他现在不再是个食尸者了。” 哈利转身看着玛特艾。莫迪。他用深深怀疑的眼光看着丹伯多的背影。 “好了，卡克罗夫，”克劳斯冷冷地说，“你已经帮过忙了，我会重新考虑你的案子的，你现在先回阿兹克班……” 克劳斯先生的声音越飘越远。哈利看看四周，这个地牢像烟雾一样正在消失；所有的东西都开始变得模糊起来。他只能看见自己的身体周围的一切都像旋转着的黑色漩涡…… 但不久，地牢又出现了。哈利发现自己坐在和原来不同的位置；仍然是最高的一排。但他右边的人变成了克劳斯先生。这儿的气氛比原来的轻松多了，甚至有点兴高采烈。大家在交头接耳，好像在观看体育赛事。对面中间一排上有个女巫引起了哈利的注意。她留着金色短发，穿着紫红色的袍子。不会错的，她就是年轻的理特。史姬特。哈利看了看四周，丹伯多又坐在他旁边了，但穿着一件不同的袍子。克劳斯先生看起来更憔悴而且更瘦更严厉了……哈利知道了。 这是个不同的记忆，不同的一天……一个不同的审讯。 角落的门开了，露得。巴格蒙走了进来。 这不像现实中的那个露得。巴格蒙。他仍有着一副快迪斯选手身材。他的鼻子还没被打扁后起来又高又瘦但很有力气。他在那带链子的椅子上坐下，看起来很紧张。但那椅子却没有把他像卡克罗夫一样绑起来。巴格蒙好像也感觉到这点，放松了一下。他用眼睛扫了一下观众，向其中两个人挥挥手，勉强笑了芙。 “露得。巴格蒙，你被带到魔法世界法庭来是为了对你的被控进行答辩的。你被控与戴斯。艾特们有关系。”克劳斯说，“我们听说了那些对你不利的证据，现在准备宣布我们的判决，在此之前你还要在你的证词上加上什么吗？” 哈利简直不敢相信自己的耳朵。露得。巴格蒙，一个食尸者？ “只有一点。”巴格蒙。傻笑着说，“呃，我觉得我以前有点像傻瓜——” 一两个观众纵声大笑。但克劳斯先生可没这种幽默感，他带着一种最严厉和厌恶的神情盯着露得。巴格蒙。 “他从来没说过比这更真的话了，小子。”有人干巴巴地对丹伯多说。哈利一看，莫迪又坐在那儿了：“要不是我知道他向来都那么蠢，我还会以为那些快迪斯球们已经给他洗了脑……” “露得。巴格蒙，你是在给福尔得摩特公爵的支持者们送情报时被抓住的。所以，我建议判处他在阿兹克班服刑不少于——” 但这时周围的观众席上爆发出愤怒的吼声，几个女巫和巫师站起来对着克劳斯先生摇头，有的甚至挥舞着拳头。 “但我已经告诉你们，我不知道！”巴格蒙真诚地向乱哄哄的观众叫道，他那圆圆的蓝眼睛睁得大大的。“根本一点也不知道！老罗克乌得是我爸爸的一个朋友……我做梦也没想到他和‘那个人’是一伙的！我以为我只是在为我方收集情报！还有罗克乌得一直在说要给我在魔法部里找份工作……一旦我的快迪斯生涯结束，你们知道……我指，我不能老是被布鲁佐球踩在脚下，不是吗？” 观众中发出了吃吃的笑声。 “那么我们来投票。”克劳斯先生冷冷地说。然后转向地牢的右面说：“陪审团将会很乐意举手……赞成监禁……” 哈利看向地牢的右手边。没人举手，观众席上很多人开始鼓掌。 陪审席上有个女巫站起来。 “什么事？”克劳斯恼怒地咆哮。 “我们只是想为巴格蒙先生上星期六在快迪斯比赛上代表英格兰与土耳其对阵时的出色表演表示热烈的祝贺。”她一口气把话说完了。 克劳斯先生气得火冒三丈。这时地牢里却响起雷鸣般的掌声。 巴格蒙站起来向大家鞠躬，笑着。 “卑鄙，下流。”克劳斯先生对丹伯多大声说，这时巴格蒙已经走出了地牢。他仍然愤愤地说，“罗克乌得确实给了他一份工作……露得。巴格蒙加入我们的那一天对魔法部来说将会是很凄惨的一天……” 这时地牢又消失了。当它再次出现时，哈利发现自己和丹伯多仍旧坐在克劳斯先生的旁边，但气氛大不一样了。这里静得出奇，只有坐在克劳斯先生旁的一个脆弱纤细的女巫在抽泣着。她发抖的手紧抓着一条手绢捂着嘴。哈利抬头看着克劳斯，他好像更憔悴了，脸色比刚才更灰白，太阳穴上有根筋在不停地跳。 “把他们带进来。”他说，他的声音在寂静的地牢里回响。 角落的门又开了。这次六个得蒙特押着一行四个人进来。哈利看到人群中有人抬头看着克劳斯先生，有些人在低声耳语。 得蒙特把他们四人分别放在四张有链的椅子上。四人中，一个矮壮的男人茫然地看着克劳斯，还有一个比他更瘦一些，而且看起来更紧张的男人，眼睛四下看着人群。一个女人坐在椅子上，就好像它是宝座；她有一头又浓又黑的头发，眼皮厚厚的像盖子。旁边还有一个十八九岁的少年，他看起来没有那么僵硬但却在发着科，乱草般的头发垂在他脸上，奶白色的皮肤上有几粒雀斑。一看到他，克劳斯先生旁边的那个瘦小的女巫就开始坐立不安，用手绢捂着脸哭。 克劳斯站起来。他俯视着面前的这四个人，脸上只有纯粹的憎恨。 “你们被带到魔法世界法庭来，”他清楚地说，“为你们那令人发指的犯罪行为接受判决——” “爸爸，”那乱草般头发的少年说，“爸爸……求求……” “——我们从来没听过这样恐怖的行为，”克劳斯先生把声音抬高，把他儿子的声音盖了下去。“我们已经听过其他人的证词。你们四个被控曾抓了一个沃罗——弗兰克。兰博顿——并在他身上施了克鲁希尔特斯符咒，因为你们怀疑他知道你们那不知放逐到哪里的主人现在在哪里——” “爸爸，我没有！”那男孩在链子里发抖。“我没有，我发誓，爸爸，别把我扔给得蒙特——” “你们还被指控，”克劳斯先生大吼着说，“在弗兰克。兰博顿的妻子身上施了克鲁希尔特斯咒语。因为他不告诉你们想要知道的事。 你们也计划让他——‘那个人’——重新恢复力量。我现在要求陪审团——“ “妈妈！”下面那男孩尖叫着，坐在克劳斯旁边的那女人更加不安，大声地啜泣起来。那男孩大喊：“妈妈，阻止他，妈妈，我没干，不是我！” “我现在要求陪审团，”克劳斯先生大叫着，“举手，如果他们像我一样相信，这些犯人应该在阿兹克班处以无期徒刑。” 一致地，地牢右手边的女巫和男巫们都举起了手。观众席上响起来像刚才一样雷鸣般的掌声，他们的脸上满是得意满足。那男孩子开始尖叫：“不！妈妈！不！我没干，我没干，我不知道！不要让他把我送到那儿！” 得蒙特进来了。另外三个人静静地从座位上站起来；那个有厚厚眼皮眼睛的女人抬头看着克劳斯并叫道：“黑暗公爵一定会东山再起的，克劳斯！把我们关在阿兹克班，我们等着！他会再来救我们的。他会比其他人更重重地嘉奖我们，因为只有我们是最忠实的！ 只有我们要去找他！“ 但那男孩还在挣扎着试图让得蒙特放开他，虽然哈利可以看到他们的冷酷无情和强大力量开始把他镇住了。人们在嘲笑他们，有的甚至站起来。那女人已经出去了，男孩还在挣扎。 “我是你儿子！”他冲着克劳斯大叫，“我是你的儿子！” “你不是我的儿子！”克劳斯先生大吼，眼睛睁得圆圆的。“我没有儿子！” 那瘦小的女巫倒抽一口冷气，重重地跌在座位上，她晕过去了。 但克劳斯先生好像没有看到一样。 “把他们带走！”克劳斯对得蒙特咆哮着，唾沫横飞。“把他们带走，让他们烂在那儿！” “爸爸，爸爸，不关我的事！不！不！爸爸，求求你！” “我想，哈利，是时候回办公室了。”一个声音在哈利耳边响起。 哈利吓了一跳，他看看四周。然后看着他两旁。 他右边坐着一个艾伯斯。丹伯多，正看着克劳斯的儿子被得蒙特拖出去——而他左边也有一个艾伯斯。丹伯多，正看着他。 “走吧。”左边的丹伯多先生把手伸到哈利的臂弯里，哈利觉得自己升向空中，地牢消失了，在一片漆黑中，他觉得自己在慢慢翻着跟斗，突然，他的脚落到了实地，发现自己站在丹伯多阳光灿烂的办公室里，橱柜里的石盆在他面前闪烁，艾伯斯。丹伯多也站在他身边。 “教授，”哈利喘息着，“我知道我不应该——我并不是想——橱柜的门开了一点点而且——” “我完全理解。”丹伯多说。他把盆拿到他桌子上，然后坐下，他示意哈利坐在他对面。 哈利坐下来，盯着那石盆。盆里的东西恢复了原样，一种银白色物质，随着他的喘息旋转，起着微波。 “它是什么？”哈利颤声问。 “这？它叫班西福，”丹伯多说，“我有时候发现——你应该也知道这种感觉——我的脑海里塞满了太多的想法和回忆。” “呃……”老实说他没这种感觉。 “很多次，”丹伯多说，他指着那石盆，“我利用班西福，它可以吸取一个人思维，把它倒进盆子，然后可以等闲暇时候看看。当在这种形式下，你可以更容易发现事情的模式和联系。” “您指……那些是您的思想？”哈利瞪着那盆里正在旋转的物质。 “当然。”丹伯多说，“我做给你看。” 丹伯多从怀里掏出魔杖，把一端放到他的太阳穴附近。然后他把魔杖拿开，头发好像粘在上面了——但它实际上是一丝装在班西福里的那种银白物质，丹伯多把这新想法放到盆里去，哈利惊奇地发现他自己的脸在表面浮动。 丹伯多把手放在盆的两端然后搅动它，就像淘金者搅动那些沙寻找沙金……哈利看到他自己的脸换成了史纳皮的，他张大着嘴对着天花板说话，他的声音轻轻回荡着。“它回来了……卡克罗夫也是……比以前更强大……” “我早该发现这个联系。”丹伯多叹了口气，“但不要紧。”他的目光越过半月形的眼镜看着哈利，后者还是张大嘴巴盯着史纳皮的脸。 “当法治先生赶来和我们会谈时，我正在用班西福，我急忙把它拿开。 毫无疑问，我没把橱柜的门关好，自然它引起了你的注意。“ “很抱歉。”哈利低声说。 丹伯多摇摇头。“好奇心并没有错，但我们应该对我们的好奇心感到警惕……” 他轻轻皱了一下眉，又用杖尖碰了碰那物质。突然，一个人从里面升上来，是个大约十六岁，体态丰满，满面愁容的女孩。她开始慢慢地旋转，脚还在盆子没有露出来。她一点都没有注意到哈利或丹伯多教授，说话的声音也在回荡，就像从盆底升上来一样：“他对我念了一个咒语，丹伯多，我只是跟他开玩笑，先生，我只是说我上个星期在温室后面看到他吻了福罗恩斯……” “但为什么，珀茜，”丹伯多悲伤地说，现在那女孩子不说话了只在旋转。“为什么你最先跟他走了呢？” “珀茜？”哈利说，“那——是珀茜-佐金斯？” “是的，”丹伯多又碰了碰盆底。珀茜降下去了，那些物质又变得银亮而不再透明了。“这是我记忆中的珀茜，那时她还在学校里。” 从班西福里发出的银光照亮了丹伯多的脸，哈利突然发觉他看起来多么老啊，他当然知道丹伯多很久以前就开始变老了，但他从来没有真正意识到丹伯多是位老人。 “哈利，”丹伯多说，“你在我出去之前，不是说有话要跟我说吗？” “是的，”哈利说，“教授——我刚才在迪维纳森，——呃——我睡着了。” 他犹豫了一下，心里忐忑不安等着被责骂，但丹伯多只说了句，“怎么回事，继续说。” “我做了个梦，”哈利说，“一个关于福尔得摩特公爵的梦。他正在折磨温太尔……您知道温太尔是谁吧——” “我知道，”丹伯多迅速地说。“请继续。” “福尔得摩特接到一封信。他说温太尔的错误已被弥补。他说某人死了，然后说温太尔不用被蛇吃掉了——他椅子旁有条大蛇。 他说——他说要把我拿去喂蛇。然后他对温太尔施了克鲁布尔特斯符咒——后来我的疤就开始疼，“哈利说，”它疼得那样厉害，把我弄醒了。“ 丹伯多几乎没看过他。 “呃，就是这些。”哈利说。 “我知道了。”丹伯多静静地说，“让我想想。那么你的疤在今年什么时候还疼过，除了那次它疼了整个夜晚？” “不，没有，我——您怎么知道它疼了整个夜晚？”哈利很惊讶地问道。 “西里斯并不只跟你一个人通信，”丹伯多说。“自从去年他离开霍格瓦彻后我还一直与他保持联系。是我建议他住在山腰上的山洞，我说那里是最安全的藏身之所。” 丹伯多站起来，在桌后踱来踱去，不时把他的思想添加到班西福里去，那些银白色的思想在盆中越转越快，哈利看不清上面有什么，只见一片模糊。 “教授？”过了几分钟后，他轻声说。 丹伯多停下步子，看着哈利。 “很抱歉。”他说着坐下来，坐在他的桌子上。 “您——您知道为什么我的疤会疼吗？” 丹伯多认真地看着哈利，过了一会儿，他说：“我有一个设想，不知道是不是……我想每当黑暗福尔得摩特公爵离你很近，或者他感到一种强烈的憎恨时，你的疤就会痛。” “但是……为什么？” “或许你们两个之间因为那失败了的咒语而有了某种联系。”丹伯多说，“那不是普通一般的疤痕。” “所以您认为……那梦……它真的发生过吗？” “有可能。”丹伯多说，“我只能说——可能。哈利——当时你有没有看到福尔得摩特？” “没有，‘赠利说，”只是他的椅背。但是——就算是正面，也看不见他的，不是吗？我的意思是，他还没有身体呢……但他怎么拿住魔杖的？“哈利慢吞吞地说。 “究竟怎样才能？”丹伯多咕哝着。“究竟怎样……” 好一会儿，丹伯多和哈利都没有说话。丹伯多思索着，一边不时把他的思想加到班西福里。 “教授，”哈利最后说道，“您认为他正变得比以前更强大吗？” “福尔得摩特？”丹伯多盯着哈利。这种特有的敏锐的眼光，它总是让哈利觉得自己整个被看穿了，这甚至连莫迪的魔眼也是做不到的。“哈利，我也只是怀疑而已。” “在福尔得摩特暗暗积蓄力量的这些年里，”他说，“有许多人失踪。在福尔得摩特最后被看见的地方，珀茜-佐金斯凭空消失了。克劳斯先生也一样……在相同的地方消失。还有这里有第三桩失踪案，很遗憾魔法部没有重视，因为它关系到一个马格人。他的名字叫弗兰克-布来斯，他住在一个村子里，福尔得摩特的父亲就是在那里长大的。他从去年八月份就失踪了。你知道，我和我大多数的魔法部朋友不同，我会看马格人报纸。” 丹伯多非常严肃地看着哈利说：“我把这些失踪案联系在一起。 但部长不同意——你在门外已经听到了。“ 哈利点点头，他们之间又陷入了沉默。丹伯多还不时地搜寻思想。哈利觉得自己应该走了，但好奇心使他留了下来。 “教授？”他又说。 “什么事，哈利？”丹伯多说。 “呃……我能问您关于……我刚才在班西福里……见到的那个法庭的事吗？” “可以，”丹伯多沉重地说，“我参加了很多次，但我对其中一些比较清楚……特别是现在……” “您知道——您知道那场审讯吗？您在那儿发现我的。有关克劳斯的儿子的那场？呃……他们是不是在谈论尼维尔的父母？” 丹伯多锐利地看了哈利一眼。 “尼维尔从来没有告诉你，为什么他从小由他奶奶带大吗？”他说。 哈利摇摇头。 “是的，他们谈论的正是尼维尔的父母，”丹伯多说：“他的父亲，弗兰克，是个像莫迪一样的亚瑟。那些人为了得知福尔得摩特在垮台之后去了哪里，让他和他的妻子受尽了折磨。你也听到了。” “所以他们死了？”哈利轻声问。 “没有。”丹伯多的声音里充满着哈利从没见过的苦涩，“他们疯了，两个都在圣马哥的医院里作‘魔法病症与创伤’治疗，我想尼维尔在假期里和他奶奶一起去看望过他们。他们已认不出他了。” 哈利坐在那儿，惊呆了，他从来不知道……从来没有，四年了，试着找出…… “兰博顿一家非常受欢迎。”丹伯多说，“对他们的袭击是在福尔得摩特倒台之后的事，当时大家都以为安定了。那次事件激起了前所未有的怒潮。内阁顶着很大的压力去把那些罪犯抓拿归案。但很不幸，兰博顿家的证词——想想在那种情况下——没有一个是很可靠的。” “而克劳斯先生的儿子是不是不应该被卷入呢”哈利说。 丹伯多摇摇头。“至于那个，我就不知道了。” 哈利沉默了，他看着班西福里的东西转着转着。有两个问题在心中憋得难受，他不得不问……这关系到活着的人的罪行…… “呃，”他说，“丹伯多先生……” “……之后再也没有被控参与黑暗活动了。”丹伯多平静地说。 “好的，”哈利急忙说，他又盯着班西福里的东西发呆，它已经越转越慢，因为丹伯多已经不再往里加思想了。“还有……呃……” 但班西福好像要帮他问这个问题，史纳皮的脸又浮现在表面上。 丹伯多向下瞄了一眼，然后抬头对着哈利。 “史纳皮教授也没有。”他说。 哈利深深地看进丹伯多那闪亮的蓝眼睛里去，他真正想问的问题冲口而出：“什么让您相信他已经不再支持福尔得摩特了，教授？” 丹伯多和哈利对望了几秒钟，然后说：“哈利，那就是史纳皮教授和我之间的事了。” 哈利知道面谈已经结束了。丹伯多看起来没有生气，但话中的尾音已经在暗示哈利该走了。他站起来，丹伯多也站了起来。 “哈利，”当哈利走到门边时，他说，“请不要把尼维尔的父母的事告诉别人。他有权等到自己有心理准备时才告诉别人。” “好的，教授。”哈利说着边转身准备离开。 “还有——” 哈利转过头来。 丹伯多正站在班西椅上方，脸被那银光照亮着，看起来比任何时候都要老。他盯了哈利一会儿，然后说：“希望你第三次任务顺利；祝你好运。” |
Chapter 29 The Dream It comes down to this,” said Hermione, rubbing her forehead. “Either Mr. Crouch attacked Viktor, or somebody else attacked both of them when Viktor wasn't looking.” “It must've been Crouch,” said Ron at once. “That's why he was gone when Harry and Dumbledore got there. He'd done a runner.” “I don't think so,” said Harry, shaking his head. “He seemed really weak - I don't reckon he was up to Disapparating or anything.” “You can't Disapparate on the Hogwarts grounds, haven't I told you enough times?” said Hermione. “Okay…hows this for a theory,” said Ron excitedly. “Krum attacked Crouch - no, wait for it - and then Stunned himself!” “And Mr. Crouch evaporated, did he?” said Hermione coldly. “Oh yeah…” It was daybreak. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had crept out of their dormitories very early and hurried up to the Owlery together to send a note to Sirius. Now they were standing looking out at the misty grounds. All three of them were puffy-eyed and pale because they had been talking late into the night about Mr. Crouch. “Just go through it again, Harry,” said Hermione. “What did Mr. Crouch actually say?” “I've told you, he wasn't making much sense,” said Harry. “He said he wanted to warn Dumbledore about something. He definitely mentioned Bertha Jorkins, and he seemed to think she was dead. He kept saying stuff was his fault.…He mentioned his son.” “Well, that was his fault,” said Hermione testily. “He was out of his mind,” said Harry. “Half the time he seemed to think his wife and son were still alive, and he kept talking to Percy about work and giving him instructions.” “And…remind me what he said about You-Know-Who?” said Ron tentatively. “I've told you,” Harry repeated dully. “He said he's getting stronger.” There was a pause. Then Ron said in a falsely confident voice, “But he was out of his mind, like you said, so half of it was probably just raving.…” “He was sanest when he was trying to talk about Voldemort,” said Harry, and Ron winced at the sound of the name. “He was having real trouble stringing two words together, but that was when he seemed to know where he was, and know what he wanted to do. He just kept saying he had to see Dumbledore.” Harry turned away from the window and stared up into the rafters. The many perches were half-empty; every now and then, another owl would swoop in through one of the windows, returning from its night's hunting with a mouse in its beak. “If Snape hadn't held me up,” Harry said bitterly, “we might've got there in time. ‘The headmaster is busy. Potter…what's this rubbish, Potter?’ Why couldn't he have just got out of the way?” “Maybe he didn't want you to get there!” said Ron quickly. “Maybe - hang on - how fast d'you reckon he could've gotten down to the forest? D'you reckon he could've beaten you and Dumbledore there?” “Not unless he can turn himself into a bat or something,” said Harry. “Wouldn't put it past him,” Ron muttered. “We need to see Professor Moody,” said Hermione. “We need to find out whether he found Mr. Crouch.” “If he had the Marauder's Map on him, it would've been easy,” said Harry. “Unless Crouch was already outside the grounds,” said Ron, “because it only shows up to the boundaries, doesn't -” “Shh!” said Hermione suddenly. Somebody was climbing the steps up to the Owlery. Harry could hear two voices arguing, coming closer and closer. “- that's blackmail, that is, we could get into a lot of trouble for that-” “- we've tried being polite; it's time to play dirty, like him. He wouldn't like the Ministry of Magic knowing what he did -” “I'm telling you, if you put that in writing, it's blackmail!” “Yeah, and you won't be complaining if we get a nice fat payoff, will you?” The Owlery door banged open. Fred and George came over the threshold, then froze at the sight of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “What're you doing here?” Ron and Fred said at the same time. “Sending a letter,” said Harry and George in unison. “What, at this time?” said Hermione and Fred. Fred grinned. “Fine - we won't ask you what you're doing, if you don't ask us,” he said. He was holding a sealed envelope in his hands. Harry glanced at it, but Fred, whether accidentally or on purpose, shifted his hand so that the name on it was covered. “Well, don't let us hold you up,” Fred said, making a mock bow and pointing at the door. Ron didn't move. “Who're you blackmailing?” he said. The grin vanished from Fred's face. Harry saw George half glance at Fred, before smiling at Ron. “Don't be stupid, I was only joking,” he said easily. “Didn't sound like that,” said Ron. Fred and George looked at each other. Then Fred said abruptly, “I've told you before, Ron, keep your nose out if you like it the shape it is. Can't see why you would, but -” “It's my business if you're blackmailing someone,” said Ron. “George's right, you could end up in serious trouble for that.” “Told you, I was joking,” said George. He walked over to Fred, pulled the letter out of his hands, and began attaching it to the leg of the nearest barn owl. “You're starting to sound a bit like our dear older brother, you are, Ron. Carry on like this and you'll be made a prefect.” “No, I won't!” said Ron hotly. George carried the barn owl over to the window and it took off. George turned around and grinned at Ron. “Well, stop telling people what to do then. See you later.” He and Fred left the Owlery. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at one another. “You don't think they know something about all this, do you?” Hermione whispered. “About Crouch and everything?” “No,” said Harry. “If it was something that serious, they'd tell someone. They'd tell Dumbledore.” Ron, however, was looking uncomfortable. “What's the matter?” Hermione asked him. “Well…” said Ron slowly, “I dunno if they would. They're…they're obsessed with making money lately, I noticed it when I was hanging around with them - when - you know -” “We weren't talking.” Harry finished the sentence for him. “Yeah, but blackmail…” “It's this joke shop idea they've got,” said Ron. “I thought they were only saying it to annoy Mum, but they really mean it, they want to start one. They've only got a year left at Hogwarts, they keep going on about how it's time to think about their future, and Dad can't help them, and they need gold to get started.” Hermione was looking uncomfortable now. “Yes, but…they wouldn't do anything against the law to get gold.” “Wouldn't they?” said Ron, looking skeptical. “I dunno…they don't exactly mind breaking rules, do they?” “Yes, but this is the law,” said Hermione, looking scared. “This isn't some silly school rule.…They'll get a lot more than detention for blackmail! Ron…maybe you'd better tell Percy.…” “Are you mad?” said Ron. “Tell Percy? He'd probably do a Crouch and turn them in.” He stared at the window through which Fred and George's owl had departed, then said, “Come on, let's get some breakfast.” “D'you think it's too early to go and see Professor Moody?” Hermione said as they went down the spiral staircase. “Yes,” said Harry. “He'd probably blast us through the door if we wake him at the crack of dawn; he'll think we're trying to attack him while he's asleep. Let's give it till break.” History of Magic had rarely gone so slowly. Harry kept checking Ron's watch, having finally discarded his own, but Ron's was moving so slowly he could have sworn it had stopped working too. All three of them were so tired they could happily have put their heads down on the desks and slept; even Hermione wasn't taking her usual notes, but was sitting with her head on her hand, gazing at Professor Binns with her eyes out of focus. When the bell finally rang, they hurried out into the corridors toward the Dark Arts classroom and found Professor Moody leaving it. He looked as tired as they felt. The eyelid of his normal eye was drooping, giving his face an even more lopsided appearance than usual. “Professor Moody?” Harry called as they made their way toward him through the crowd. “Hello, Potter,” growled Moody. His magical eye followed a couple of passing first years, who sped up, looking nervous; it rolled into the back of Moody's head and watched them around the corner before he spoke again. “Come in here.” He stood back to let them into his empty classroom, limped in after them, and closed the door. “Did you find him?” Harry asked without preamble. “Mr. Crouch?” “No,” said Moody. He moved over to his desk, sat down, stretched out his wooden leg with a slight groan, and pulled out his hip flask. “Did you use the map?” Harry said. “Of course,” said Moody, taking a swig from his flask. “Took a leaf out of your book, Potter. Summoned it from my office into the forest. He wasn't anywhere on there.” “So he did Disapparate?” said Ron. “You can't Disapparate on the grounds, Ron!” said Hermione. “There are other ways he could have disappeared, aren't there, Professor?” Moody's magical eye quivered as it rested on Hermione. “You're another one who might think about a career as an Auror,” he told her. “Mind works the right way. Granger.” Hermione flushed pink with pleasure. “Well, he wasn't invisible,” said Harry. “The map shows invisible people. He must've left the grounds, then.” “But under his own steam?” said Hermione eagerly, “or because someone made him?” “Yeah, someone could've - could've pulled him onto a broom and flown off with him, couldn't they?” said Ron quickly, looking hopefully at Moody as if he too wanted to be told he had the makings of an Auror. “We can't rule out kidnap,” growled Moody. “So,” said Ron, “d'you reckon he's somewhere in Hogsmeade?” “Could be anywhere,” said Moody, shaking his head. “Only thing we know for sure is that he's not here.” He yawned widely, so that his scars stretched, and his lopsided mouth revealed a number of missing teeth. Then he said, “Now, Dumbledore's told me you three fancy yourselves as investigators, but there's nothing you can do for Crouch. The Ministry'll be looking for him now, Dumbledore's notified them. Potter, you just keep your mind on the third task.” “What?” said Harry. “Oh yeah…” He hadn't given the maze a single thought since he'd left it with Krum the previous night. “Should be right up your street, this one,” said Moody, looking up at Harry and scratching his scarred and stubbly chin. “From what Dumbledore's said, you've managed to get through stuff like this plenty of times. Broke your way through a series of obstacles guarding the Sorcerers Stone in your first year, didn't you?” “We helped,” Ron said quickly. “Me and Hermione helped.” Moody grinned. “Well, help him practice for this one, and I'll be very surprised if he doesn't win,” said Moody. “In the meantime…constant vigilance, Potter. Constant vigilance.” He took another long draw from his hip flask, and his magical eye swiveled onto the window. The topmost sail of the Durmstrang ship was visible through it. “You two,” counseled Moody, his normal eye on Ron and Hermione, “you stick close to Potter, all right? I'm keeping an eye on things, but all the same…you can never have too many eyes out.” * * * * * * Sirius sent their owl back the very next morning. It fluttered down beside Harry at the same moment that a tawny owl landed in front of Hermione, clutching a copy of the Daily Prophet in its beak. She took the newspaper, scanned the first few pages, said, “Ha! She hasn't got wind of Crouch!” then joined Ron and Harry in reading what Sirius had to say on the mysterious events of the night before last. Harry - what do you think you are playing at, walking off into the forest with Viktor Krum? I want you to swear, by return owl, that you are not going to go walking with anyone else at night. There is somebody highly dangerous at Hogwarts. It is clear to me that they wanted to stop Crouch from seeing Dumbledore and you were probably feet away from them in the dark. You could have been killed. Your name didn't get into the Goblet of Fire by accident. If someone's trying to attack you, they're on their last chance. Stay close to Ron and Hermione, do not leave Gryffindor Tower after hours, and arm yourself for the third task. Practice Stunning and Disarming. A few hexes wouldn't go amiss either. There's nothing you can do about Crouch. Keep your head down and look after yourself. I'm waiting for your letter giving me your word you won't stray out-of-bounds again. Sirius “Who's he, to lecture me about being out-of-bounds?” said Harry in mild indignation as he folded up Sirius's letter and put it inside his robes. “After all the stuff he did at school!” “He's worried about you!” said Hermione sharply. “Just like Moody and Hagrid! So listen to them!” “No one's tried to attack me all year,” said Harry. “No one's done anything to me at all-” “Except put your name in the Goblet of Fire,” said Hermione. “And they must've done that for a reason. Harry. Snuffles is right. Maybe they've been biding their time. Maybe this is the task they're going to get you.” “Look,” said Harry impatiently, “let's say Sirius is right, and someone Stunned Krum to kidnap Crouch. Well, they would've been in the trees near us, wouldn't they? But they waited till I was out of the way until they acted, didn't they? So it doesn't look like I'm their target, does it?” “They couldn't have made it look like an accident if they'd murdered you in the forest!” said Hermione. “But if you die during a task-” “They didn't care about attacking Krum, did they?” said Harry. “Why didn't they just polish me off at the same time? They could've made it look like Krum and I had a duel or something.” “Harry, I don't understand it either,” said Hermione desperately. “I just know there are a lot of odd things going on, and I don't like it.…Moody's right - Sirius is right - you've got to get in training for the third task, straight away. And you make sure you write back to Sirius and promise him you're not going to go sneaking off alone again.” * * * * * * The Hogwarts grounds never looked more inviting than when Harry had to stay indoors. For the next few days he spent all of his free time either in the library with Hermione and Ron, looking up hexes, or else in empty classrooms, which they sneaked into to practice. Harry was concentrating on the Stunning Spell, which he had never used before. The trouble was that practicing it involved certain sacrifices on Ron's and Hermione's part. “Can't we kidnap Mrs. Norris?” Ron suggested on Monday lunchtime as he lay flat on his back in the middle of their Charms classroom, having just been Stunned and reawoken by Harry for the fifth time in a row. “Let's Stun her for a bit. Or you could use Dobby, Harry, I bet he'd do anything to help you. I'm not complaining or anything” - he got gingerly to his feet, rubbing his backside - “but I'm aching all over.…” “Well, you keep missing the cushions, don't you!” said Hermione impatiently, rearranging the pile of cushions they had used for the Banishing Spell, which Flitwick had left in a cabinet. “Just try and fall backward!” “Once you're Stunned, you can't aim too well, Hermione! “said Ron angrily. “Why don't you take a turn?” “Well, I think Harry's got it now, anyway,” said Hermione hastily. “And we don't have to worry about Disarming, because he's been able to do that for ages.…I think we ought to start on some of these hexes this evening.” She looked down the list they had made in the library. “I like the look of this one,” she said, “this Impediment Curse. Should slow down anything that's trying to attack you. Harry. We'll start with that one.” The bell rang. They hastily shoved the cushions back into Flitwick's cupboard and slipped out of the classroom. “See you at dinner!” said Hermione, and she set off for Arithmancy, while Harry and Ron headed toward North Tower, and Divination. Broad strips of dazzling gold sunlight tell across the corridor from the high windows. The sky outside was so brightly blue it looked as though it had been enameled. “It's going to be boiling in Trelawney's room, she never puts out that fire,” said Ron as they started up the staircase toward the silver ladder and the trapdoor. He was quite right. The dimly lit room was swelteringly hot. The fumes from the perfumed fire were heavier than ever. Harry's head swam as he made his way over to one of the curtained windows. While Professor Trelawney was looking the other way, disentangling her shawl from a lamp, he opened it an inch or so and settled back in his chintz armchair, so that a soft breeze played across his face. It was extremely comfortable. “My dears,” said Professor Trelawney, sitting down in her winged armchair in front of the class and peering around at them all with her strangely enlarged eyes, “we have almost finished our work on planetary divination. Today, however, will be an excellent opportunity to examine the effects of Mars, for he is placed most interestingly at the present time. If you will all look this way, I will dim the lights.…” She waved her wand and the lamps went out. The fire was the only source of light now. Professor Trelawney bent down and lifted, from under her chair, a miniature model of the solar system, contained within a glass dome. It was a beautiful thing; each of the moons glimmered in place around the nine planets and the fiery sun, all of them hanging in thin air beneath the glass. Harry watched lazily as Professor Trelawney began to point out the fascinating angle Mars was making to Neptune. The heavily perfumed fumes washed over him, and the breeze from the window played across his face. He could hear an insect humming gently somewhere behind the curtain. His eyelids began to droop.… He was riding on the back of an eagle owl, soaring through the clear blue sky toward an old, ivy-covered house set high on a hillside. Lower and lower they flew, the wind blowing pleasantly in Harry's face, until they reached a dark and broken window in the upper story of the house and entered. Now they were flying along a gloomy passageway, to a room at the very end…through the door they went, into a dark room whose windows were boarded up.… Harry had left the owl's back…he was watching, now, as it fluttered across the room, into a chair with its back to him.…There were two dark shapes on the floor beside the chair…both of them were stirring.… One was a huge snake…the other was a man…a short, balding man, a man with watery eyes and a pointed nose…he was wheezing and sobbing on the hearth rug.… “You are in luck, Wormtail,” said a cold, high-pitched voice from the depths of the chair in which the owl had landed. “You are very fortunate indeed. Your blunder has not ruined everything. He is dead.” “My Lord!” gasped the man on the floor. “My Lord, I am…I am so pleased…and so sorry.…” “Nagini,” said the cold voice, “you are out of luck. I will not be feeding Wormtail to you, after all…but never mind, never mind…there is still Harry Potter.…” The snake hissed. Harry could see its tongue fluttering. “Now, Wormtail,” said the cold voice, “perhaps one more little reminder why I will not tolerate another blunder from you.…” “My Lord…no…I beg you…” The tip of a wand emerged from around the back of the chair. It was pointing at Wormtail. “Crucio!” said the cold voice. Wormtail screamed, screamed as though every nerve in his body were on fire, the screaming filled Harry's ears as the scar on his forehead seared with pain; he was yelling too…Voldemort would hear him, would know he was there.… “Harry! Harry!” Harry opened his eyes. He was lying on the floor of Professor Trelawney's room with his hands over his face. His scar was still burning so badly that his eyes were watering. The pain had been real. The whole class was standing around him, and Ron was kneeling next to him, looking terrified. “You all right?” he said. “Of course he isn't!” said Professor Trelawney, looking thoroughly excited. Her great eyes loomed over Harry, gazing at him. “What was it. Potter? A premonition? An apparition? What did you see?” “Nothing,” Harry lied. He sat up. He could feel himself shaking. He couldn't stop himself from looking around, into the shadows behind him; Voldemort's voice had sounded so close.… “You were clutching your scar!” said Professor Trelawney. “You were rolling on the floor, clutching your scar! Come now. Potter, I have experience in these matters!” Harry looked up at her. “I need to go to the hospital wing, I think,” he said. “Bad headache.” “My dear, you were undoubtedly stimulated by the extraordinary clairvoyant vibrations of my room!” said Professor Trelawney. “If you leave now, you may lose the opportunity to see further than you have ever -” “I don't want to see anything except a headache cure,” said Harry. He stood up. The class backed away. They all looked unnerved. “See you later,” Harry muttered to Ron, and he picked up his bag and headed for the trapdoor, ignoring Professor Trelawney, who was wearing an expression of great frustration, as though she had just been denied a real treat. When Harry reached the bottom of her stepladder, however, he did not set off for the hospital wing. He had no intention whatsoever of going there. Sirius had told him what to do if his scar hurt him again, and Harry was going to follow his advice: He was going straight to Dumbledore's office. He marched down the corridors, thinking about what he had seen in the dream…it had been as vivid as the one that had awoken him on Privet Drive.…He ran over the details in his mind, trying to make sure he could remember them.…He had heard Voldemort accusing Wormtail of making a blunder…but the owl had brought good news, the blunder had been repaired, somebody was dead…so Wormtail was not going to be fed to the snake…he, Harry, was going to be fed to it instead.… Harry had walked right past the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledores office without noticing. He blinked, looked around, realized what he had done, and retraced his steps, stopping in front of it. Then he remembered that he didn't know the password. “Sherbet lemon?” he tried tentatively. The gargoyle did not move. “Okay,” said Harry, staring at it, “Pear Drop. Er - Licorice Wand. Fizzing Whizbee. Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans…oh no, he doesn't like them, does he?…oh just open, can't you?” he said angrily. “I really need to see him, its urgent!” The gargoyle remained immovable. Harry kicked it, achieving nothing but an excruciating pain in his big toe. “Chocolate Frog!” he yelled angrily, standing on one leg. “Sugar Quill! Cockroach Cluster!” The gargoyle sprang to life and jumped aside. Harry blinked. “Cockroach Cluster?” he said, amazed. “I was only joking.…” He hurried through the gap in the walls and stepped onto the foot of a spiral stone staircase, which moved slowly upward as the doors closed behind him, taking him up to a polished oak door with a brass door knocker. He could hear voices from inside the office. He stepped off the moving staircase and hesitated, listening. “Dumbledore, I'm afraid I don't see the connection, don't see it at all!” It was the voice of the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. “Ludo says Berthas perfectly capable of getting herself lost. I agree we would have expected to have found her by now, but all the same, we've no evidence of foul play, Dumbledore, none at all. As for her disappearance being linked with Barty Crouch's!” “And what do you thinks happened to Barty Crouch, Minister?” said Moody's growling voice. “I see two possibilities, Alastor,” said Fudge. “Either Crouch has finally cracked - more than likely, I'm sure you'll agree, given his personal history - lost his mind, and gone wandering off somewhere -” “He wandered extremely quickly, if that is the case, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore calmly. “Or else - well…” Fudge sounded embarrassed. “Well, I'll reserve judgment until after I've seen the place where he was found, but you say it was just past the Beauxbatons carriage? Dumbledore, you know what that woman is?” “I consider her to be a very able headmistress - and an excellent dancer,” said Dumbledore quietly. “Dumbledore, come!” said Fudge angrily. “Don't you think you might be prejudiced in her favor because of Hagrid? They don't all turn out harmless - if, indeed, you can call Hagrid harmless, with that monster fixation he's got -” “I no more suspect Madame Maxime than Hagrid,” said Dumbledore, just as calmly. “I think it possible that it is you who are prejudiced, Cornelius.” “Can we wrap up this discussion?” growled Moody. “Yes, yes, let's go down to the grounds, then,” said Fudge impatiently. “No, it's not that,” said Moody, “it's just that Potter wants a word with you, Dumbledore. He's just outside the door.” “最后结论是这样的，”荷米恩边说边揉揉她的前额。“要不是克劳斯先生袭击了维特，就是有人袭击了他们两个人，是趁维特没在看着克劳斯时下的手。” “肯定是克劳斯先生，”罗恩马上说，“那就是为什么当哈利和丹伯多赶到时不见他的原因，他逃走了。” “我不这样认为，”哈利摇了摇头，“他看起来很虚弱——相信他用分身术或其它办法。” “在霍格瓦彻是用不了分身术的，我不是告诉你几百遍了吗？” 荷米恩说。 “那……这个设想怎样，”罗恩兴奋地说，“克伦袭击了克劳斯先生——然后弄昏了他自己！” “然后克劳斯先生自己蒸发了，是吗？”荷米恩冷冷地说。 “噢，是……” 天刚破晓，哈利，罗恩和荷米恩就从宿舍里爬出来。他们一起赶去奥里路发封信给西里斯，现在他们正站在那里看着外面的迷蒙烟雾。他们三个的眼睛都肿了，脸色苍白，因为他们晚上谈论克劳斯到很晚才睡。 “让我们再回想一下，哈利。”荷米恩说，“事实上克劳斯先生说了什么？” “我都告诉你了，他说得语无伦次，”哈利说，“他说要警告丹伯多某事。他肯定提到了珀茜·佐金斯，看起来他以为她死了。还老是说什么都是他的错……他还提到他的儿子。” “好吧，那就是他的错。”荷米恩烦躁地说。 “他神经不正常，”哈利说，“有时候，他以为他太太和儿子都还活着，他一直在跟伯希谈工作还给他发指示。” “呃……能不能再说一下，关于‘那个人’他说了什么？我忘了。”罗恩试着问。 “我已经告诉你了，”哈利厌烦地重复一遍，“他说他正在变得更强大。” 沉默了一会儿。 然后罗恩用一种装出来的自信说：“但他神经失常，像你说的那样，所以其中一半很可能只是胡言乱语。” “但当他试着说起福尔得摩特的时候，是他神志最清醒的时候，哈利说道，不理会罗恩畏缩了一下。”他很难把两个词串在一起说出来，但当他知道自己在哪，要做什么的时候，他一直在说要见丹伯多。“ 哈利从窗边走开，凝视着上面的屋椽，半数的椽木是空的，还不时有猫头鹰从窗户外飞进来，叼着它们晚间的猎获物——老鼠。 “如果史纳皮当时没有阻拦我就好了，”哈利苦着脸地说，“我们就可以及时回到那儿了。 “也许他不想让你到那儿！”罗恩急忙说，“也许——等一下——你认为他能有多快到达那个森林？你不认为他可能已经在那里打败了你和丹伯多吗？只要他比你们快。” “除非他能变成一只编幅或什么东西。”哈利说。 “别这样轻易就放过他不理。”罗恩咕哝着。 “我们应该去看看莫迪教授，”荷米恩说，“看看他是否已找到克劳斯先生。” “如果他有马罗得的地图，那会很容易。”哈利说。 “除非克劳斯先生已经不在这个区域，”罗恩说，“因为它只能显示到边界，不会——” “嘘！”荷米恩突然说。 有人正沿着楼梯上这里，哈利可以听到两个声音在争吵，越来越近。 “——那是敲诈，那样我们会卷进许多麻烦中去的——” “——我们已经很礼貌了，是时候也学学他耍一下手段，他肯定不愿意让魔法内阁知道他做了什么——” “我告诉你，如果你把那写上去，就是敲诈！” “是的。等我们捞到了一大笔油水，你就不会再老是唠唠叨叨抱怨了，不是吗？” 迪迈尔里的门砰的一声打开了，弗来德和乔治一进来就碰上哈利、罗恩和荷米恩的目光，他们一下子僵住了。 “你们在这做什么？”罗恩和弗来德同时说。 “发封信。”哈利和乔治异口同声。 “什么，在这个时候？”荷米恩和弗来德的反应也很一致。 弗来德笑起来。“好吧——我们不问你们在干什么，但你们也别问我们。”他说。 他手上拿着一个密封的信封。哈利瞄了一眼，但是弗来德不知是有意还是无意，动了动他的手，把信封上的名字盖住了。 “好了，别让我们碍了您的事。”他说着，嘲讽似地鞠了一个躬，指着大门。 罗恩没有动，“你们在敲诈谁？”他说。 笑容一下子从弗来德的脸上消失了。哈利注意到乔治瞄了弗来德半眼，然后对罗恩微笑。 “别傻了，我只是在开玩笑。”他故作轻松地说。 “听起来不像喔。”罗恩说。 弗来德和乔治对望了一眼。 弗来德突然说：“我以前告诉过你，罗恩，别多管闲事，看不出为什么你不能，但——” “如果你在敲诈谁，那就是我的事，”罗恩说，“乔治是对的，你会有大麻烦的。” “告诉你，我在开玩笑，”乔治说着，走到弗来德身边从他手中拿过信，把它绑在最近的一只猫头鹰脚上。“你越来越像我们亲爱的老大哥了，罗恩。继续像这样下去，你会扮得更像的。” “不，我不会！”罗恩气呼呼地说。 乔治把猫头鹰放到窗户上去，它扑啦啦地飞走了。 他掉过头对罗恩笑，“那就不要老是告诉别人要怎么做。再见。” 他和弗来德离开了奥里路，只剩下哈利，罗恩和荷米恩在面面相觑。 “你想他们会不会知道这些事？”荷米恩小声说，“关于克劳斯先生的或其它的？” “不会。”哈利说，“如果有什么严重的事，他们会告诉某人。 比如他们会告诉丹伯多。“ 但罗恩看起来很不舒服。 “有什么不妥吗？”荷米思问他。 “呃……”罗恩吞吞吐吐地说，“我不知道他们会不会。他们……他们最近想钱想疯了。我和他们在一起的时候就注意到了——那时——你知道——” “我们不说话，”哈利帮他接着讲完下面的话。“是的，但是敲诈……” “这主意听起来像开玩笑，”罗恩说，“我想他们只是说说，让妈妈心烦，但他们可能真的会做，他们在霍格瓦彻只剩一年了。他们到处跑，怎么说也是时候为将来打算一下了。爸爸帮不了他们，他们需要金子去开始他们的计划。” 荷米恩现在也不安了：“是的……但他们不会用违法手段去赚取金子吧？” “为什么不？”罗恩表示怀疑，“我不知道……他们不是特别在意违反规定，不是吗？” “是的，但这是法律，”荷米恩看起来吓坏了，说，“这可不是些学校的什么愚蠢规定……敲诈会让他们得到比关禁闭更严厉的惩罚！罗恩……也许你最好告诉伯希？”“你疯了！”罗恩说，“告诉伯希？他等你一转身就会把他们交给警察。”他怔怔地看着弗来德和乔治的猫头鹰飞出的那窗户，然后说：“走吧，去吃早餐。” “你不认为现在去看莫迪教授太早了点吗？”荷米恩说。他们正走下螺旋形的楼梯。 “是的，”哈利说，“如果我们在天刚破晓的时候吵醒他，他很可能会把我们踢出门外，他会以为我们要在他睡着的时候袭击他。 让我们等到天亮再说吧。“ 魔法历史课从来没有这么难度过，哈利不停地看罗恩的手表，因为他已经把自己的表扔掉了。但罗恩的表走得那么慢，他敢发誓它也肯定坏掉了。他们三个都困得要命，恨不得马上趴在桌子上呼呼大睡；连荷米恩也没有照往常一样做笔记。她用手托着头，目光模糊地看着宾西教授。 铃终于响了，他们急忙跑出走廊，向“巫术”课室跑去，发现莫迪正要离开。他看起来和他们一样累，眼皮搭拉下来，这使他的脸看起来比平时更斜。 “莫迪教授？”哈利叫道，他们正从人群中向他挤去。 “哈罗，波特。”莫迪粗声说，他的魔眼盯着一对路过的虫子。 它们很紧张，迅速爬到莫迪的后脑勺去了，在角落里看着哈利他们。教授说：“进来吧。” 他先让开让他们进来，然后关上门。 “您找到他了吗？”哈利开门见山地问道。“克劳斯先生？” “没有。”莫迪说着，走到他的桌子旁坐下，把他的木头腿放直，并发出一声轻微的呻吟。然后拿出他的小热水瓶。 “您用了地图吗？”哈利说。 “当然了。”莫迪说着喝了一大口水。 “他用了分身术吗？”罗恩问道。 “他不可能在这个区域用分身术的，罗恩！”荷米恩说，“他肯定用了其他方法消失了，不是吗，教授？” 莫迪的魔眼颤抖了一下，看着荷米恩。 “你是又一个可以考虑一下做沃罗的人。”他说，“你的思路很清晰正确，格林佐。” 荷米恩高兴得涨红了脸。 “但他并不是消失不见的，”哈利说，“地图可以显示出看不见的人。他应该已经离开了这里。” “用他自己的力量吗？”荷米恩急切地说，“或是有人把他带出去了？” “是的，也许某人——某人把他拉上扫帚一起飞走了，不是吗？”罗恩急着说，带着希翼的神情看着莫迪，好像也想莫迪说他是块做沃罗的料。 “我们不排除绑架的可能。”莫迪粗声说。 “那么，”罗恩说，“您认为他现在在霍格瓦彻的某个地方吗？” “可能在任何地方，”莫迪摇摇头，“我们唯一知道的就是他不在这里。” 他大声地打着呵欠，他脸上的疤伸得更长了，从他歪歪的嘴巴里可以看到他掉了很多牙齿。 然后他说：“丹伯多告诉我，你们三个喜欢把自己想象成侦探。 但这里没什么你们可以为克劳斯先生做的事了。魔法部现在正派人寻找克劳斯先生，丹伯多已经通知了他们了。波特，你只要把精力都放在第三次任务上就好了。“ “什么？”哈利说，“噢，好的……” 自从昨晚和克伦离开那个迷宫后，他还一直没想到过它。 莫迪看着哈利，边用手挠着他那疤痕累累，胡子拉连的下巴。 “听丹伯多说，这类事情你不知碰到多少次了，你上一年级的时候就破除了一系列障碍，保护了‘点金石’。” “有我们帮忙啊，”罗恩很快地说，“我和荷米恩帮的忙。” 莫迪笑了起来，“那么，这次帮他练习吧，如果他没赢我才会觉得出奇呢，”他说，“而且同时……你必须时刻保持警惕，波特，警惕。”他又从水瓶里喝了口水，他的魔眼转向窗户，窗户外可以看到丹姆斯安船的帆尖。 “你们两个，”——他的正常眼睛看着罗恩和荷米恩——“你们要紧跟着波特，知道吗？我正注意着事态的发展，……你们千万别管太多的其它事。” 第二天早上，西里斯的回信到了，与此同时还有一个茶褐色的猫头鹰停在荷米恩面前，嘴里叼着一份《先知日报》。她拿下报纸，翻了翻开头的那几页，说：“哈！他们还不知道克劳斯的事！”然后她扔开报纸，凑上前去，看看西里斯对前天晚上的那起神秘事件有什么要说。 哈利——你知不知道你在做什么，和维特。克伦走进森林里去？ 我要你回信发誓，你再不和任何人在晚上出去了。在霍格瓦彻有一个极度危险的人物。很显然，他们要阻止克劳斯去见丹伯多。你可能前脚刚离开，他们后脚就跟着来了。否则你可能已经被杀掉了。 你的名字因为意外上火杯名单。如果有人想要袭击你，那现在是他们最后的机会了。跟罗恩和荷米恩呆在一起，不要离开格林芬顿太久，还有在第三次任务时带上武器，练习一下怎样打昏敌人和解除敌人的武装。不要念错咒语。你别再管克劳斯的事了，要照顾好你自己。我等着你向我保证你不会再乱跑了。 西里斯“他是谁啊，训诫我不要乱跑？”哈利有点气愤，边把西里斯的信折起来放到袍子里，“他自己在学校还不一样。” “他在担心你！”荷米恩尖声说，“就像莫迪和哈格力一样！所以听他们的话！” “一整年都没人袭击我，”哈利说，“根本没人对我做什么——” “除了把你的名字送上火杯名单，”荷米恩说，“他们这样做肯定有原因，哈利，史纳皮是对的，也许他们在等候时机，也许他们的任务就是要抓到你。” “瞧，”哈利不耐烦地说，“就让我们假定史纳皮是对的，有人打晕了克伦，绑架了克劳斯先生。那么，他们当时很可能就在我们附近的树林里，不是吗？但他们等到我走了才下手，所以我应该不是他们的目标才对呀？” “如果他们在森林里干掉你，他们就很难把这弄成是意外！”荷米恩说，“但如果你在任务中死了——” “他们毫不在意攻击克伦，不是吗？”哈利说，“那他们同样又怎会放过我？他们本可以把我和克伦弄成像是决斗后死或什么的。” “哈利，我也不明白，”荷米恩泄气地说，“我只知道一连串古怪的事情在不断发生，我不喜欢……莫迪是对的——西里斯是对的——你应该马上为第三次任务进行训练，马上。还有你必须回信给西里斯保证你不会再独个人偷偷溜出去了。” 当哈利不得不呆在户内时，霍格瓦彻对他的吸引力从来没有这么大过。这在接下来的几天里，他一有空，要不和罗恩、荷米恩去图书馆查咒语，要不就偷偷溜进教室里练习。哈利正集中精力练晕眩咒语，这个他以前从来没用过。麻烦就在于要练习它，罗恩和荷米恩就得做出牺牲。 “我们不能把挪里斯太太绑架来吗？”在星期一午饭时候，罗恩建议道，他正四脚朝天躺在符咒课室的中央，他已经连续五次被哈利打晕然后弄醒了。“让我们弄晕她几下，或者你可以叫多比，我打赌他愿意为你做任何事，我不是在抱怨或什么，”——他小心翼翼地站起来，揉着他的背——“但我全身都在疼……” “你呀，老是不对准垫子！”荷米恩不耐烦地说，重新调整那堆垫子。这些垫子是菲利特威克留在橱柜里的，曾经用作练习驱逐咒语。“试着向后跌！” “当你被打得晕头转向的时候，当然不可能对得很准啦！”罗恩生气地说，“你为什么不来替换我一下？” “那，我想哈利已经学会了。”荷米恩急忙说，“我们不用担心‘解除武装’咒语，他很久以前就会了……我想我们今晚应该练习这其中的一些咒语。” 她低头看着他们在图书馆列的单。 “这个看起来不错，”她说，“‘障碍咒’，它可以阻拦一下那些想攻击你的东西，哈利，我们就从这个开始。” 铃声响了，他们急忙把垫子塞回橱柜，然后溜出课堂。 “晚饭时候见！”荷米恩说，她去阿利斯蒙西，而哈利和罗恩则要去北塔。一条条金黄灿灿的光柱从走廊的天窗上透过来；外面的天空一片亮蓝。好像上了一层釉。“特雷络尼的房间热得就像要沸腾了，她从来不把那火拿出去。”罗恩说。他们走在楼梯间向那银色的梯子和活板门走去。 他说得没错。昏暗的房间里热得出奇，从香火里冒出的烟比以前更浓。哈利的头直发晕，于是他趁特雷络尼在看其他地方的时候把一扇窗的窗帘开了一条缝。有一丝微风吹进来，他感觉舒服多了，就坐回他那用印花棉布套着的扶手椅上去。 “各位，”特雷络尼教授坐在她那有翼的椅子上跟大家说，她那奇特的眼睛睁得大大的，审视着大家，“我们已经学完了行星占卜术。今天我们有个极好的机会观察火星的活动，现在它正运行到了一个非常有趣的位置。如果你们都准备好了，我就熄灭这些灯……” 她挥动着魔杖，所有的灯都熄灭了，只有火光在跳动。特雷络尼教授弯腰从椅子底下拿出一个罩在玻璃里的太阳系微缩模型。真是一件漂亮的东西；许多卫星围在九大行星和炽热的太阳的周围，闪烁着微光；它们都悬在空中，玻璃罩里面的空气很稀薄。哈利懒洋洋地看着特雷络尼教授给他们指出火星正和海王星形成了一个迷人的角度。浓浓的香烟熏人欲醉，窗外的微风柔柔地抚摸着哈利的脸，他好像听到窗帘后面有只虫子在嗡嗡地叫。他的眼皮开始掉下来…… 他骑在一只猫头鹰的背上，直冲蓝天，不久山腰上出现了一间爬满常春藤的老屋。他们越飞越低，风很舒服在吹在哈利的脸上。 他们从二楼的一个又黑又破的窗户嗖的一声飞了进去，穿过这道阴森森的走廊，尽头有一个房间……进了门，房间里真黑，所有的窗户都被木板钉死了…… 哈利爬下了猫头鹰背……他努力想看清房间里有什么，猫头鹰扑喇着翅膀飞到一张背对着他的椅子上……椅子旁边的地面好像有两个黑影……在不停地扭动…… 其中一个是一条巨蛇……另一个是个人……一个矮小的秃头男人，尖尖的鼻子，眼睛泪汪汪的……他在炉前的地毯上喘息着，抽泣着…… “你很走运，温太尔，”一个尖尖的，冷冷的声音从猫头鹰落下的椅子下面传来，“你非常幸运，真的。你的错误并没有把所有的事都毁了。他死了。” “我的天哪！”地上的那人喘息着说，“我的天哪，我……我真高兴……也很难过……” “纳格艾里，”冷冷的声音说，“你真不走运，我不能把温太尔给你吃了，毕竟……但不要紧，不要紧……还有哈利·波特……” 巨蛇发出嘶嘶声，哈利可以看见它的舌头在不停吞吐着。 “现在，温太尔，”冷冷的声音说，“再提醒你一下为什么我再也不能忍受你的错误……” “天哪……不……我求求您……” 椅子底下伸出一根魔杖，它拍着温太尔。“哥鲁西欧。”这个冷酷的声音说道。 温太尔尖叫着，好像他身体的每一根神经都在燃烧，哈利满耳都是尖叫声，他前额上的疤痕开始灼痛；他也开始大叫起来……福尔得摩特会听到他的，会知道他在那儿的…… “哈利！哈利！” 哈利睁开眼睛，他正躺在特雷络尼教授房间的地板上，手捂着脸。他的疤痕还在灼痛得厉害，疼得他的眼睛直流眼泪。这疼痛是真实的。现在整个班的人都站在他周围，罗恩正跪在他旁边，看起来吓坏了。 “你还好吗？”他说。 “他当然不好！”特雷络尼教授说，她看起来很兴奋。她那大眼睛通视着他。‘它是什么，波特？一个预兆？一只怪物？一个幽灵？ 你看到了什么？“ “什么也没有。”哈利撒谎说。他坐起来，仍能感觉到自己在发抖。他忍不住向四周张望，看看他身后的阴影，福尔得摩特的声音曾经那么的近…… “你当时在抓着你的疤痕！”特雷络尼教授说。“你边在地上打滚边抓着你的疤痕！告诉我，波特，我也曾经历过这种情形！” 哈利抬起头看看她。 “我要去校医室。”他说，“很头痛。” “我亲爱的，毫无疑问你肯定被我房间里的超强感应刺激到了！”特雷络尼说。“如果你现在就离开，你就会失去看到更多东西的机会——” “我不要看到任何东西除了一粒头痛片。”哈利说。 他站起来。大家向后退开让出一条路，他们看起来很气馁。 “再见。”哈利对罗恩小声说，拿起书包向门口走去。毫不理会一旁带着一脸挫折神色的特雷络尼教授，好像她刚刚错失了良机。 哈利从梯子上下来，但他并没有去医疗室，他根本没想去那儿。西里斯曾经告诉他如果疤痕又在痛，他该怎样的做，他正准备照办：他直接向丹伯多的办公室走去。他沿着走廊走下去，边想着刚才在梦中的所见所闻……它就和那次在普里怀特街所做的那个把他惊醒的梦一样逼真……他在脑海中回想所有的细节，以免忘了……他曾听到福尔得摩特指责温太尔犯了一个大错误……但猫头鹰带来了好消息，错误已被纠正，某人死了……所以温太尔不用被抓去喂蛇……而他，哈利，则要做为代替品给蛇吃掉…… 哈利没有注意到他已经走过了石兽守着的那条通向丹伯多办公室的门。他眨眨眼，终于意识到了，于是走回来，停在它面前，然后他想起来了，他不知道暗号。 “柠檬汁？”他试探性地问。 石兽没有动。 “好吧”哈利说，瞪着它，“梨子汁。呃——利格罗斯魔杖。杜鲁波最棒泡泡糖。贝蒂伯特的美味豆……噢不，他不喜欢这些，是吗？……噢，开开门不行吗？”他很生气地说。“我真的很需要马上见他。非常紧急！” 石兽仍然是铁石心肠。 哈利用力踢他，但除了抱着脚趾喊痛外，无济于事。 “巧克力青蛙糖！”他生气地大喊，一只脚站着，“糖条！蟑螂串！” 石兽一下子活了，跳到一旁。哈利眨眨眼。 “蟑螂串？”他惊奇地说。“我只是开玩笑……” 他急忙跳进墙缝，然后走到螺旋形的石梯脚下，它慢慢地向上升去。门在哈利后面关上了。石梯把他带到了一扇精美的橡木门前，门上有个铜扣环。 他可以听到办公室里传来的声音，他走下旋转楼梯，犹豫着。 “丹伯多，我恐怕我看不出来两者之间有什么联系，根本看不到！”这是魔法部长可尼斯。法治的声音。“露得说珀茜最擅长的事就是迷路了。我们现在本该已经找到她了，这我承认，但都一样，我们没有证据证明有作弊行为或私下的肮脏交易。丹伯多，根本没有。怎么会把她的失踪与克劳斯的失踪连在一起？” “那么您认为克劳斯发生了什么事呢，部长先生？”莫迪那低沉的声音说道。 “我看有两个可能，阿拉斯特，”法治说，“一是克劳斯最后精神分裂了——从他个人记录来看，我想你也同意，他不只是像而已——精神失常，然后到处游荡——” “那他游荡的速度可真快，如果那是真的话，可尼斯。”丹伯多平静地说。 “或者——呢……”法治的声音听起来很尴尬。“好吧。我得去看看他被发现的地方，才能下结论，但你说离比克斯贝克顿斯马车不远？丹伯多，你了解那女人吗？” “我认为她是个非常能尽责的女校长——还有她跳舞跳得非常好。”丹伯多淡淡地说。 “丹伯多，好了！”法治生气地说，“你不应该因为哈格力的缘故就对她特别有好感，他们并不是无害的——如果，事实上，你可以说哈格力是无害的，即使有那怪物跟着他——” “我对他们俩一视同仁，既不怀疑哈格力，也不会怀疑玛西姆夫人。”丹伯多仍然镇定自若，“我想那是您有偏见，可尼斯。” “我们可以先暂停讨论吗？”莫迪低吼着说。 “好吧，好吧，一起到森林去吧。”可尼斯不耐烦地说。 “不，我不是指这个。”莫迪说，“因为波特想跟你说几句话，丹伯多。他就在门外。” |
Chapter 28 The Madness Of Mr Crouch Harry, Ron, and Hermione went up to the Owlery after breakfast on Sunday to send a letter to Percy, asking, as Sirius had suggested, whether he had seen Mr. Crouch lately. They used Hedwig, because it had been so long since she'd had a job. When they had watched her fly out of sight through the Owlery window, they proceeded down to the kitchen to give Dobby his new socks. The house-elves gave them a very cheery welcome, bowing and curtsying and bustling around making tea again. Dobby was ecstatic about his present. “Harry Potter is too good to Dobby!” he squeaked, wiping large tears out of his enormous eyes. “You saved my life with that gillyweed, Dobby, you really did,” said Harry. “No chance of more of those eclairs, is there?” said Ron, who was looking around at the beaming and bowing house-elves. “You've just had breakfast!” said Hermione irritably, but a great silver platter of eclairs was already zooming toward them, supported by four elves. “We should get some stuff to send up to Snuffles,” Harry muttered. “Good idea,” said Ron. “Give Pig something to do. You couldn't give us a bit of extra food, could you?” he said to the surrounding elves, and they bowed delightedly and hurried off to get some more. “Dobby, where's Winky?” said Hermione, who was looking around. “Winky is over there by the fire, miss,” said Dobby quietly, his ears drooping slightly. “Oh dear,” said Hermione as she spotted Winky. Harry looked over at the fireplace too. Winky was sitting on the same stool as last time, but she had allowed herself to become so filthy that she was not immediately distinguishable from the smoke-blackened brick behind her. Her clothes were ragged and unwashed. She was clutching a bottle of butterbeer and swaying slightly on her stool, staring into the fire. As they watched her, she gave an enormous hiccup. “Winky is getting through six bottles a day now,” Dobby whispered to Harry. “Well, it's not strong, that stuff,” Harry said. But Dobby shook his head. “'Tis strong for a house-elf, sir,” he said. Winky hiccuped again. The elves who had brought the eclairs gave her disapproving looks as they returned to work. “Winky is pining, Harry Potter,” Dobby whispered sadly. “Winky wants to go home. Winky still thinks Mr. Crouch is her master, sir, and nothing Dobby says will persuade her that Professor Dumbledore is her master now.” “Hey, Winky,” said Harry, struck by a sudden inspiration, walking over to her, and bending down, “you don't know what Mr. Crouch might be up to, do you? Because he's stopped turning up to judge the Triwizard Tournament.” Winky's eyes flickered. Her enormous pupils focused on Harry. She swayed slightly again and then said, “M - Master is stopped - hic - coming?” “Yeah,” said Harry, “we haven't seen him since the first task. The Daily Prophet's saying he's ill.” Winky swayed some more, staring blurrily at Harry. “Master - hic - ill?” Her bottom lip began to tremble. “But we're not sure if that's true,” said Hermione quickly. “Master is needing his - hic - Winky!” whimpered the elf. “Master cannot - hic - manage - hic - all by himself.…” “Other people manage to do their own housework, you know, Winky,” Hermione said severely. “Winky - hic - is not only - hic - doing housework for Mr. Crouch!” Winky squeaked indignantly, swaying worse than ever and slopping butterbeer down her already heavily stained blouse. “Master is - hic - trusting Winky with - hic - the most important - hic - the most secret…” “What?” said Harry. But Winky shook her head very hard, spilling more butterbeer down herself. “Winky keeps - hic - her master's secrets,” she said mutinously, swaying very heavily now, frowning up at Harry with her eyes crossed. “You is - hic - nosing, you is.” “Winky must not talk like that to Harry Potter!” said Dobby angrily. “Harry Potter is brave and noble and Harry Potter is not nosy!” “He is nosing - hic - into my master's - hic - private and secret - hic - Winky is a good house-elf - hic - Winky keeps her silence - hic - people trying to - hic - pry and poke - hic -” Winky's eyelids drooped and suddenly, without warning, she slid off her stool into the hearth, snoring loudly. The empty bottle of butterbeer rolled away across the stone-flagged floor. Half a dozen house-elves came hurrying forward, looking disgusted. One of them picked up the bottle; the others covered Winky with a large checked tablecloth and tucked the ends in neatly, hiding her from view. “We is sorry you had to see that, sirs and miss!” squeaked a nearby elf, shaking his head and looking very ashamed. “We is hoping you will not judge us all by Winky, sirs and miss!” “She's unhappy!” said Hermione, exasperated. “Why don't you try and cheer her up instead of covering her up?” “Begging your pardon, miss,” said the house-elf, bowing deeply again, “but house-elves has no right to be unhappy when there is work to be done and masters to be served.” “Oh for heavens sake!” Hermione cried. “Listen to me, all of you! You've got just as much right as wizards to be unhappy! You've got the right to wages and holidays and proper clothes, you don't have to do everything you're told - look at Dobby!” “Miss will please keep Dobby out of this,” Dobby mumbled, looking scared. The cheery smiles had vanished from the faces of the house-elves around the kitchen. They were suddenly looking at Hermione as though she were mad and dangerous. “We has your extra food!” squeaked an elf at Harry's elbow, and he shoved a large ham, a dozen cakes, and some fruit into Harry's arms. “Good-bye!” The house-elves crowded around Harry, Ron, and Hermione and began shunting them out of the kitchen, many little hands pushing in the smalls of their backs. “Thank you for the socks, Harry Potter!” Dobby called miserably from the hearth, where he was standing next to the lumpy tablecloth that was Winky. “You couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you, Hermione?” said Ron angrily as the kitchen door slammed shut behind them. “They won't want us visiting them now! We could've tried to get more stuff out of Winky about Crouch!” “Oh as if you care about that!” scoffed Hermione. “You only like coming down here for the food!” It was an irritable sort of day after that. Harry got so tired of Ron and Hermione sniping at each other over their homework in the common room that he took Sirius's food up to the Owlery that evening on his own. Pigwidgeon was much too small to carry an entire ham up to the mountain by himself, so Harry enlisted the help of two school screech owls as well. When they had set off into the dusk, looking extremely odd carrying the large package between them. Harry leaned on the windowsill, looking out at the grounds, at the dark, rustling treetops of the Forbidden Forest, and the rippling sails of the Durmstrang ship. An eagle owl flew through the coil of smoke rising from Hagrid's chimney; it soared toward the castle, around the Owlery, and out of sight. Looking down, Harry saw Hagrid digging energetically in front of his cabin. Harry wondered what he was doing; it looked as though he were making a new vegetable patch. As he watched, Madame Maxime emerged from the Beauxbatons carriage and walked over to Hagrid. She appeared to be trying to engage him in conversation. Hagrid leaned upon his spade, but did not seem keen to prolong their talk, because Madame Maxime returned to the carriage shortly afterward. Unwilling to go back to Gryffindor Tower and listen to Ron and Hermione snarling at each other, Harry watched Hagrid digging until the darkness swallowed him and the owls around Harry began to awake, swooshing past him into the night. * * * * * * By breakfast the next day Ron's and Hermione's bad moods had burnt out, and to Harry's relief, Ron's dark predictions that the house-elves would send substandard food up to the Gryffindor table because Hermione had insulted them proved false; the bacon, eggs, and kippers were quite as good as usual. When the post owls arrived, Hermione looked up eagerly; she seemed to be expecting something. “Percy won't've had time to answer yet,” said Ron. “We only sent Hedwig yesterday.” “No, it's not that,” said Hermione. “I've taken out a subscription to the Daily Prophet. I'm getting sick of finding everything out from the Slytherins.” “Good thinking!” said Harry, also looking up at the owls. “Hey, Hermione, I think you're in luck -” A gray owl was soaring down toward Hermione. “It hasn't got a newspaper, though,” she said, looking disappointed. “It's -” But to her bewilderment, the gray owl landed in front of her plate, closely followed by four barn owls, a brown owl, and a tawny. “How many subscriptions did you take out?” said Harry, seizing Hermione's goblet before it was knocked over by the cluster of owls, all of whom were jostling close to her, trying to deliver their own letter first. “What on earth - ?” Hermione said, taking the letter from the gray owl, opening it, and starting to read. “Oh really!” she sputtered, going rather red. “What's up?” said Ron. “It's - oh how ridiculous -” She thrust the letter at Harry, who saw that it was not handwritten, but composed from pasted letters that seemed to have been cut out of the Daily Prophet. YOU ARE A WICKED GIRL. HARRY POTTER DESERVES BETTER. GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM MUGGLE. “They're all like it!” said Hermione desperately, opening one letter after another. “'Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you.…’ ‘You deserve to be boiled in frog spawn.…’ Ouch!” She had opened the last envelope, and yellowish-green liquid smelling strongly of petrol gushed over her hands, which began to erupt in large yellow boils. “Undiluted bubotuber pus!” said Ron, picking up the envelope gingerly and sniffing it. “Ow!” said Hermione, tears starting in her eyes as she tried to rub the pus off her hands with a napkin, but her fingers were now so thickly covered in painful sores that it looked as though she were wearing a pair of thick, knobbly gloves. “You'd better get up to the hospital wing,” said Harry as the owls around Hermione took flight. “We'll tell Professor Sprout where you've gone.…” “I warned her!” said Ron as Hermione hurried out of the Great Hall, cradling her hands. “I warned her not to annoy Rita Skeeter! Look at this one…” He read out one of the letters Hermione had left behind: “I read In Witch Weekly about how you are playing Harry Potter false and that boy has had enough hardship and I will be sending you a curse by next post as soon as I can find a big enough envelope.’ Blimey, she'd better watch out for herself.” Hermione didn't turn up for Herbology. As Harry and Ron left the greenhouse for their Care of Magical Creatures class, they saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle descending the stone steps of the castle. Pansy Parkinson was whispering and giggling behind them with her gang of Slytherin girls. Catching sight of Harry, Pansy called, “Potter, have you split up with your girlfriend? Why was she so upset at breakfast?” Harry ignored her; he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how much trouble the Witch Weekly article had caused. Hagrid, who had told them last lesson that they had finished with unicorns, was waiting for them outside his cabin with a fresh supply of open crates at his feet. Harry's heart sank at the sight of the crates - surely not another skrewt hatching? - but when he got near enough to see inside, he found himself looking at a number of flurry black creatures with long snouts. Their front paws were curiously flat, like spades, and they were blinking up at the class, looking politely puzzled at all the attention. “These're nifflers,” said Hagrid, when the class had gathered around. “Yeh find ‘em down mines mostly. They like sparkly stuff.…There yeh go, look.” One of the nifflers had suddenly leapt up and attempted to bite Pansy Parkinson's watch off her wrist. She shrieked and jumped backward. “Useful little treasure detectors,” said Hagrid happily. “Thought we'd have some fun with ‘em today. See over there?” He pointed at the large patch of freshly turned earth Harry had watched him digging from the Owlery window. “I've buried some gold coins. I've got a prize fer whoever picks the niffler that digs up most. Jus’ take off all yer valuables, an’ choose a niffler, an get ready ter set ‘em loose.” Harry took off his watch, which he was only wearing out of habit, as it didn't work anymore, and stuffed it into his pocket. Then he picked up a niffler. It put its long snout in Harry's ear and sniffed enthusiastically. It was really quite cuddly. “Hang on,” said Hagrid, looking down into the crate, “there's a spare niffler here…who's missin? Where's Hermione?” “She had to go to the hospital wing,” said Ron. “We'll explain later,” Harry muttered; Pansy Parkinson was listening. It was easily the most fun they had ever had in Care of Magical Creatures. The nifflers dived in and out of the patch of earth as though it were water, each scurrying back to the student who had released it and spitting gold into their hands. Ron's was particularly efficient; it had soon filled his lap with coins. “Can you buy these as pets, Hagrid?” he asked excitedly as his niffler dived back into the soil, splattering his robes. “Yer mum wouldn’ be happy, Ron,” said Hagrid, grinning. “They wreck houses, nifflers. I reckon they've nearly got the lot, now,” he added, pacing around the patch of earth while the nifflers continued to dive. “I on'y buried a hundred coins. Oh there y'are, Hermione!” Hermione was walking toward them across the lawn. Her hands were very heavily bandaged and she looked miserable. Pansy Parkinson was watching her beadily. “Well, let's check how yeh've done!” said Hagrid. “Count yer coins! An’ there's no point tryin’ ter steal any, Goyle,” he added, his beetle-black eyes narrowed. “It's leprechaun gold. Vanishes after a few hours.” Goyle emptied his pockets, looking extremely sulky. It turned out that Ron's niffler had been most successful, so Hagrid gave him an enormous slab of Honeyduke's chocolate for a prize. The bell rang across the grounds for lunch; the rest of the class set off back to the castle, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed behind to help Hagrid put the nifflers back in their boxes. Harry noticed Madame Maxime watching them out other carriage window. “What yeh done ter your hands, Hermione?” said Hagrid, looking concerned. Hermione told him about the hate mail she had received that morning, and the envelope full of bubotuber pus. “Aaah, don’ worry,” said Hagrid gently, looking down at her. “I got some o’ those letters an all, after Rita Skeeter wrote abou me mum. ‘Yeh're a monster an yeh should be put down.’ ‘Yer mother killed innocent people an if you had any decency you d jump in a lake.'” “No!” said Hermione, looking shocked. “Yeah,” said Hagrid, heaving the niffler crates over by his cabin wall. “They're jus’ nutters, Hermione. Don’ open ‘em if yeh get any more. Chuck ‘em straigh’ in the fire.” “You missed a really good lesson,” Harry told Hermione as they headed back toward the castle. “They're good, nifflers, aren't they, Ron?” Ron, however, was frowning at the chocolate Hagrid had given him. He looked thoroughly put out about something. “What's the matter?” said Harry. “Wrong flavor?” “No,” said Ron shortly. “Why didn't you tell me about the gold?” “What gold?” said Harry. “The gold I gave you at the Quidditch World Cup,” said Ron. “The leprechaun gold I gave you for my Omnioculars. In the Top Box. Why didn't you tell me it disappeared?” Harry had to think for a moment before he realized what Ron was talking about. “Oh…” he said, the memory coming back to him at last. “I dunno…I never noticed it had gone. I was more worried about my wand, wasn't I?” They climbed the steps into the entrance hall and went into the Great Hall for lunch. “Must be nice,” Ron said abruptly, when they had sat down and started serving themselves roast beef and Yorkshire puddings. “To have so much money you don't notice if a pocketful of Galleons goes missing.” “Listen, I had other stuff on my mind that night!” said Harry impatiently. “We all did, remember?” “I didn't know leprechaun gold vanishes,” Ron muttered. “I thought I was paying you back. You shouldn't've given me that Chudley Cannon hat for Christmas.” “Forget it, all right?” said Harry. Ron speared a roast potato on the end of his fork, glaring at it. Then he said, “I hate being poor.” Harry and Hermione looked at each other. Neither of them really knew what to say. “It's rubbish,” said Ron, still glaring down at his potato. “I don't blame Fred and George for trying to make some extra money. Wish I could. Wish I had a niffler.” “Well, we know what to get you next Christmas,” said Hermione brightly. Then, when Ron continued to look gloomy, she said, “Come on, Ron, it could be worse. At least your fingers aren't full of pus.” Hermione was having a lot of difficulty managing her knife and fork, her fingers were so stiff and swollen. “I hate that Skeeter woman!” she burst out savagely. “I'll get her back for this if it's the last thing I do!” * * * * * * Hate mail continued to arrive for Hermione over the following week, and although she followed Hagrid's advice and stopped opening it, several of her ill-wishers sent Howlers, which exploded at the Gryffindor table and shrieked insults at her for the whole Hall to hear. Even those people who didn't read Witch Weekly knew all about the supposed Harry-Krum-Hermione triangle now. Harry was getting sick of telling people that Hermione wasn't his girlfriend. “It'll die down, though,” he told Hermione, “if we just ignore it.…People got bored with that stuff she wrote about me last time. “I want to know how she's listening into private conversations when she's supposed to be banned from the grounds!” said Hermione angrily. Hermione hung back in their next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson to ask Professor Moody something. The rest of the class was very eager to leave; Moody had given them such a rigorous test of hex-deflection that many of them were nursing small injuries. Harry had such a bad case of Twitchy Ears, he had to hold his hands clamped over them as he walked away from the class. “Well, Rita's definitely not using an Invisibility Cloak!” Hermione panted five minutes later, catching up with Harry and Ron in the entrance hall and pulling Harry's hand away from one of his wiggling ears so that he could hear her. “Moody says he didn't see her anywhere near the judges’ table at the second task, or anywhere near the lake!” “Hermione, is there any point in telling you to drop this?” said Ron. “No!” said Hermione stubbornly. “I want to know how she heard me talking to Viktor! And how she found out about Hagrid's mum!” “Maybe she had you bugged,” said Harry. “Bugged?” said Ron blankly. “What…put fleas on her or something?” Harry started explaining about hidden microphones and recording equipment. Ron was fascinated, but Hermione interrupted them. “Aren't you two ever going to read Hogwarts, A History” “What's the point?” said Ron. “You know it by heart, we can just ask you.” “All those substitutes for magic Muggles use - electricity, computers, and radar, and all those things - they all go haywire around Hogwarts, there's too much magic in the air. No, Rita's using magic to eavesdrop, she must be.…If I could just find out what it is…ooh, if it's illegal, I'll have her…” “Haven't we got enough to worry about?” Ron asked her. “Do we have to start a vendetta against Rita Skeeter as well?” “I'm not asking you to help!” Hermione snapped. “I'll do it on my own!” She marched back up the marble staircase without a backward glance. Harry was quite sure she was going to the library. “What's the betting she comes back with a box of / Hate Rita Skeeter badges?” said Ron. Hermione, however, did not ask Harry and Ron to help her pursue vengeance against Rita Skeeter, for which they were both grateful, because their workload was mounting ever higher in the days before the Easter holidays. Harry frankly marveled at the fact that Hermione could research magical methods of eavesdropping as well as everything else they had to do. He was working flat-out just to get through all their homework, though he made a point of sending regular food packages up to the cave in the mountain for Sirius; after last summer, Harry had not forgotten what it felt like to be continually hungry. He enclosed notes to Sirius, telling him that nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and that they were still waiting for an answer from Percy. Hedwig didn't return until the end of the Easter holidays. Percy's letter was enclosed in a package of Easter eggs that Mrs. Weasley had sent. Both Harry's and Ron's were the size of dragon eggs and full of homemade toffee. Hermione's, however, was smaller than a chicken egg. Her face fell when she saw it. “Your mum doesn't read Witch Weekly, by any chance, does she, Ron?” she asked quietly. “Yeah,” said Ron, whose mouth was full of toffee. “Gets it for the recipes.” Hermione looked sadly at her tiny egg. “Don't you want to see what Percy's written?” Harry asked her hastily. Percy's letter was short and irritated. As I am constantly telling the Daily Prophet, Mr. Crouch is taking a well-deserved break. He is sending in regular owls with instructions. No, I haven't actually seen him, but I think I can be trusted to know my own superior's handwriting. I have quite enough to do at the moment without trying to quash these ridiculous rumors. Please don't bother me again unless it's something important. Happy Easter. The start of the summer term would normally have meant that Harry was training hard for the last Quidditch match of the season. This year, however, it was the third and final task in the Triwizard Tournament for which he needed to prepare, but he still didn't know what he would have to do. Finally, in the last week of May, Professor McGonagall held him back in Transfiguration. “You are to go down to the Quidditch field tonight at nine o'clock. Potter,” she told him. “Mr. Bagman will be there to tell the champions about the third task.” So at half past eight that night. Harry left Ron and Hermione in Gryffindor Tower and went downstairs. As he crossed the entrance hall, Cedric came up from the Hufflepuff common room. “What d'you reckon it's going to be?” he asked Harry as they went together down the stone steps, out into the cloudy night. “Fleur keeps going on about underground tunnels; she reckons we've got to find treasure.” “That wouldn't be too bad,” said Harry, thinking that he would simply ask Hagrid for a niffler to do the job for him. They walked down the dark lawn to the Quidditch stadium, turned through a gap in the stands, and walked out onto the field. “What've they done to it?” Cedric said indignantly, stopping dead. The Quidditch field was no longer smooth and flat. It looked as though somebody had been building long, low walls all over it that twisted and crisscrossed in every direction. “They're hedges!” said Harry, bending to examine the nearest one. “Hello there!” called a cheery voice. Ludo Bagman was standing in the middle of the field with Krum and Fleur. Harry and Cedric made their way toward them, climbing over the hedges. Fleur beamed at Harry as he came nearer. Her attitude toward him had changed completely since he had saved her sister from the lake. “Well, what d'you think?” said Bagman happily as Harry and Cedric climbed over the last hedge. “Growing nicely, aren't they? Give them a month and Hagrid'll have them twenty feet high. Don't worry,” he added, grinning, spotting the less-than-happy expressions on Harry's and Cedric's faces, “you'll have your Quidditch field back to normal once the task is over! Now, I imagine you can guess what we're making here?” No one spoke for a moment. Then - “Maze,” grunted Krum. “That's right!” said Bagman. “A maze. The third task's really very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks.” “We seemply ‘ave to get through the maze?” said Fleur. “There will be obstacles,” said Bagman happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Hagrid is providing a number of creatures…then there will be spells that must be broken…all that sort of thing, you know. Now, the champions who are leading on points will get a head start into the maze.” Bagman grinned at Harry and Cedric. “Then Mr. Krum will enter…then Miss Delacour. But you'll all be in with a fighting chance, depending how well you get past the obstacles. Should be fun, eh?” Harry, who knew only too well the kind of creatures that Hagrid was likely to provide for an event like this, thought it was unlikely to be any fun at all. However, he nodded politely like the other champions. “Very well…if you haven't got any questions, we'll go back up to the castle, shall we, it's a bit chilly.…” Bagman hurried alongside Harry as they began to wend their way out of the growing maze. Harry had the feeling that Bagman was going to start offering to help him again, but just then, Krum tapped Harry on the shoulder. “Could I haff a vord?” “Yeah, all right,” said Harry, slightly surprised. “Vill you valk vith me?” “Okay,” said Harry curiously. Bagman looked slightly perturbed. “I'll wait for you. Harry, shall I?” “No, it's okay, Mr. Bagman,” said Harry, suppressing a smile, “I think I can find the castle on my own, thanks.” Harry and Krum left the stadium together, but Krum did not set a course for the Durmstrang ship. Instead, he walked toward the forest. “What're we going this way for?” said Harry as they passed Hagrid's cabin and the illuminated Beauxbatons carriage. “Don't vont to be overheard,” said Krum shortly. When at last they had reached a quiet stretch of ground a short way from the Beauxbatons horses’ paddock, Krum stopped in the shade of the trees and turned to face Harry. “I vant to know,” he said, glowering, “vot there is between you and Hermy-own-ninny.” Harry, who from Krum's secretive manner had expected something much more serious than this, stared up at Krum in amazement. “Nothing,” he said. But Krum glowered at him, and Harry, somehow struck anew by how tall Krum was, elaborated. “We're friends. She's not my girlfriend and she never has been. It's just that Skeeter woman making things up.” “Hermy-own-ninny talks about you very often,” said Krum, looking suspiciously at Harry. “Yeah,” said Harry, “because were friends.” He couldn't quite believe he was having this conversation with Viktor Krum, the famous International Quidditch player. It was as though the eighteen-year-old Krum thought he. Harry, was an equal - a real rival - “You haff never…you haff not…” “No,” said Harry very firmly. Krum looked slightly happier. He stared at Harry for a few seconds, then said, “You fly very veil. I vos votching at the first task.” “Thanks,” said Harry, grinning broadly and suddenly feeling much taller himself. “I saw you at the Quidditch World Cup. The Wronski Feint, you really -” But something moved behind Krum in the trees, and Harry, who had some experience of the sort of thing that lurked in the forest, instinctively grabbed Krum's arm and pulled him around. “Vot is it?” Harry shook his head, staring at the place where he'd seen movement. He slipped his hand inside his robes, reaching for his wand. Suddenly a man staggered out from behind a tall oak. For a moment, Harry didn't recognize him…then he realized it was Mr. Crouch. He looked as though he had been traveling for days. The knees of his robes were ripped and bloody, his face scratched; he was unshaven and gray with exhaustion. His neat hair and mustache were both in need of a wash and a trim. His strange appearance, however, was nothing to the way he was behaving. Muttering and gesticulating, Mr. Crouch appeared to be talking to someone that he alone could see. He reminded Harry vividly of an old tramp he had seen once when out shopping with the Dursleys. That man too had been conversing wildly with thin air; Aunt Petunia had seized Dudley's hand and pulled him across the road to avoid him; Uncle Vernon had then treated the family to a long rant about what he would like to do with beggars and vagrants. “Vosn't he a judge?” said Krum, staring at Mr. Crouch. “Isn't he vith your Ministry?” Harry nodded, hesitated for a moment, then walked slowly toward Mr. Crouch, who did not look at him, but continued to talk to a nearby tree. “…and when you've done that, Weatherby, send an owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of Durmstrang students who will be attending the tournament, Karkaroff has just sent word there will be twelve.…” “Mr. Crouch?” said Harry cautiously. “…and then send another owl to Madame Maxime, because she might want to up the number of students she's bringing, now Karkaroff's made it a round dozen…do that, Weatherby, will you? Will you? Will…” Mr. Crouch's eyes were bulging. He stood staring at the tree, muttering soundlessly at it. Then he staggered sideways and fell to his knees. “Mr. Crouch?” Harry said loudly. “Are you all right?” Crouch's eyes were rolling in his head. Harry looked around at Krum, who had followed him into the trees, and was looking down at Crouch in alarm. “Vot is wrong with him?” “No idea,” Harry muttered. “Listen, you'd better go and get someone -” “Dumbledore!” gasped Mr. Crouch. He reached out and seized a handful of Harry's robes, dragging him closer, though his eyes were staring over Harry's head. “I need…see…Dumbledore.…” “Okay,” said Harry, “if you get up, Mr. Crouch, we can go up to the-” “I've done…stupid…thing…” Mr. Crouch breathed. He looked utterly mad. His eyes were rolling and bulging, and a trickle of spittle was sliding down his chin. Every word he spoke seemed to cost him a terrible effort. “Must…tell…Dumbledore…” “Get up, Mr. Crouch,” said Harry loudly and clearly. “Get up, I'll take you to Dumbledore!” Mr., Crouch's eyes rolled forward onto Harry. “Who…you?” he whispered. “I'm a student at the school,” said Harry, looking around at Krum for some help, but Krum was hanging back, looking extremely nervous. “You're not…his?” whispered Crouch, his mouth sagging. “No,” said Harry, without the faintest idea what Crouch was talking about. “Dumbledore's?” “That's right,” said Harry. Crouch was pulling him closer; Harry tried to loosen Crouch's grip on his robes, but it was too powerful. “Warn…Dumbledore…” “I'll get Dumbledore if you let go of me,” said Harry. “Just let go, Mr. Crouch, and I'll get him.…” “Thank you, Weatherby, and when you have done that, I would like a cup of tea. My wife and son will be arriving shortly, we are attending a concert tonight with Mr. and Mrs. Fudge.” Crouch was now talking fluently to a tree again, and seemed completely unaware that Harry was there, which surprised Harry so much he didn't notice that Crouch had released him. “Yes, my son has recently gained twelve O.W.L.s, most satisfactory, yes, thank you, yes, very proud indeed. Now, if you could bring me that memo from the Andorran Minister of Magic, I think I will have time to draft a response.…” “You stay here with him!” Harry said to Krum. “I'll get Dumbledore, I'll be quicker, I know where his office is -” “He is mad,” said Krum doubtfully, staring down at Crouch, who was still gabbling to the tree, apparently convinced it was Percy. “Just stay with him,” said Harry, starting to get up, but his movement seemed to trigger another abrupt change in Mr. Crouch, who seized him hard around the knees and pulled Harry back to the ground. “Don't…leave…me!” he whispered, his eyes bulging again. “I…escaped…must warn…must tell…see Dumbledore…my fault…all my fault…Bertha…dead…all my fault…my son…my fault…tell Dumbledore …Harry Potter…the Dark Lord…stronger…Harry Potter…” “I'll get Dumbledore if you let me go, Mr. Crouch!” said Harry. He looked furiously around at Krum. “Help me, will you?” Looking extremely apprehensive, Krum moved forward and squatted down next to Mr. Crouch. “Just keep him here,” said Harry, pulling himself free of Mr. Crouch. “I'll be back with Dumbledore.” “Hurry, von't you?” Krum called after him as Harry sprinted away from the forest and up through the dark grounds. They were deserted; Bagman, Cedric, and Fleur had disappeared. Harry tore up the stone steps, through the oak front doors, and off up the marble staircase, toward the second floor. Five minutes later he was hurtling toward a stone gargoyle standing halfway along an empty corridor. “Sher - sherbet lemon!” he panted at it. This was the password to the hidden staircase to Dumbledore's office - or at least, it had been two years ago. The password had evidently changed, however, for the stone gargoyle did not spring to life and jump aside, but stood frozen, glaring at Harry malevolently. “Move!” Harry shouted at it. “C'mon!” But nothing at Hogwarts had ever moved just because he shouted at it; he knew it was no good. He looked up and down the dark corridor. Perhaps Dumbledore was in the staffroom? He started running as fast as he could toward the staircase - “POTTER!” Harry skidded to a halt and looked around. Snape had just emerged from the hidden staircase behind the stone gargoyle. The wall was sliding shut behind him even as he beckoned Harry back toward him. “What are you doing here, Potter?” “I need to see Professor Dumbledore!” said Harry, running back up the corridor and skidding to a standstill in front of Snape instead. “It's Mr. Crouch…he's just turned up…he's in the forest…he's asking -” “What is this rubbish?” said Snape, his black eyes glittering. “What are you talking about?” “Mr. Crouch!” Harry shouted. “From the Ministry! He's ill or something - he's in the forest, he wants to see Dumbledore! Just give me the password up to -” “The headmaster is busy. Potter,” said Snape, his thin mouth curling into an unpleasant smile. “I've got to tell Dumbledore!” Harry yelled. “Didn't you hear me. Potter?” Harry could tell Snape was thoroughly enjoying himself, denying Harry the thing he wanted when he was so panicky. “Look,” said Harry angrily, “Crouch isn't right - he's - he's out of his mind - he says he wants to warn -” The stone wall behind Snape slid open. Dumbledore was standing there, wearing long green robes and a mildly curious expression. “Is there a problem?” he said, looking between Harry and Snape. “Professor!” Harry said, sidestepping Snape before Snape could speak, “Mr. Crouch is here - he's down in the forest, he wants to speak to you!” Harry expected Dumbledore to ask questions, but to his relief, Dumbledore did nothing of the sort. “Lead the way,” he said promptly, and he swept off along the corridor behind Harry, leaving Snape standing next to the gargoyle and looking twice as ugly. “What did Mr. Crouch say. Harry?” said Dumbledore as they walked swiftly down the marble staircase. “Said he wants to warn you…said he's done something terrible…he mentioned his son…and Bertha Jorkins…and - and Voldemort…something about Voldemort getting stronger.…” “Indeed,” said Dumbledore, and he quickened his pace as they hurried out into the pitch-darkness. “He's not acting normally,” Harry said, hurrying along beside Dumbledore. “He doesn't seem to know where he is. He keeps talking like he thinks Percy Weasley's there, and then he changes, and says he needs to see you.…I left him with Viktor Krum.” “You did?” said Dumbledore sharply, and he began to take longer strides still, so that Harry was running to keep up. “Do you know if anybody else saw Mr. Crouch?” “No,” said Harry. “Krum and I were talking, Mr. Bagman had just finished telling us about the third task, we stayed behind, and then we saw Mr. Crouch coming out of the forest -” “Where are they?” said Dumbledore as the Beauxbatons carriage emerged from the darkness. “Over here,” said Harry, moving in front of Dumbledore, leading the way through the trees. He couldn't hear Crouch's voice anymore, but he knew where he was going; it hadn't been much past the Beauxbatons carriage…somewhere around here.… “Viktor?” Harry shouted. No one answered. “They were here,” Harry said to Dumbledore. “They were definitely somewhere around here.…” “Lumos,” Dumbledore said, lighting his wand and holding it up. Its narrow beam traveled from black trunk to black trunk, illuminating the ground. And then it fell upon a pair of feet. Harry and Dumbledore hurried forward. Krum was sprawled on the forest floor. He seemed to be unconscious. There was no sign at all of Mr. Crouch. Dumbledore bent over Krum and gently lifted one of his eyelids. “Stunned,” he said softly. His half-moon glasses glittered in the wandlight as he peered around at the surrounding trees. “Should I go and get someone?” said Harry. “Madam Pomfrey?” “No,” said Dumbledore swiftly. “Stay here.” He raised his wand into the air and pointed it in the direction of Hagrid's cabin. Harry saw something silvery dart out of it and streak away through the trees like a ghostly bird. Then Dumbledore bent over Krum again, pointed his wand at him, and muttered, “Ennervate.” Krum opened his eyes. He looked dazed. When he saw Dumbledore, he tried to sit up, but Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder and made him lie still. “He attacked me!” Krum muttered, putting a hand up to his head. “The old madman attacked me! I vos looking around to see vare Potter had gone and he attacked from behind!” “Lie still for a moment,” Dumbledore said. The sound of thunderous footfalls reached them, and Hagrid came panting into sight with Fang at his heels. He was carrying his crossbow. “Professor Dumbledore!” he said, his eyes widening. “Harry - what the -?” “Hagrid, I need you to fetch Professor Karkaroff,” said Dumbledore. “His student has been attacked. When you've done that, kindly alert Professor Moody -” “No need, Dumbledore,” said a wheezy growl. “I'm here.” Moody was limping toward them, leaning on his staff, his wand lit. “Damn leg,” he said furiously. “Would've been here quicker…what's happened? Snape said something about Crouch -” “Crouch?” said Hagrid blankly. “Karkaroff, please, Hagrid!” said Dumbledore sharply. “Oh yeah…right y'are, Professor…” said Hagrid, and he turned and disappeared into the dark trees, Fang trotting after him. “I don't know where Barty Crouch is,” Dumbledore told Moody, “but it is essential that we find him.” “I'm onto it,” growled Moody, and he pulled out his wand and limped off into the forest. Neither Dumbledore nor Harry spoke again until they heard the unmistakable sounds of Hagrid and Fang returning. Karkaroff was hurrying along behind them. He was wearing his sleek silver furs, and he looked pale and agitated. “What is this?” he cried when he saw Krum on the ground and Dumbledore and Harry beside him. “What's going on?” “I vos attacked!” said Krum, sitting up now and rubbing his head. “Mr. Crouch or votever his name -” “Crouch attacked you? Crouch attacked you? The Triwizard judge?” “Igor,” Dumbledore began, but Karkaroff had drawn himself up, clutching his furs around him, looking livid. “Treachery!” he bellowed, pointing at Dumbledore. “It is a plot! You and your Ministry of Magic have lured me here under false pretenses, Dumbledore! This is not an equal competition! First you sneak Potter into the tournament, though he is underage! Now one of your Ministry friends attempts to put my champion out of action! I smell double-dealing and corruption in this whole affair, and you, Dumbledore, you, with your talk of closer international wizarding links, of rebuilding old ties, of forgetting old differences - here's what I think of you!” Karkaroff spat onto the ground at Dumbledore's feet. In one swift movement, Hagrid seized the front of Karkaroff's furs, lifted him into the air, and slammed him against a nearby tree. “Apologize!” Hagrid snarled as Karkaroff gasped for breath, Hagrid's massive fist at his throat, his feet dangling in midair. “Hagrid, no!” Dumbledore shouted, his eyes flashing. Hagrid removed the hand pinning Karkaroff to the tree, and Karkaroff slid all the way down the trunk and slumped in a huddle at its roots; a few twigs and leaves showered down upon his head. “Kindly escort Harry back up to the castle, Hagrid,” said Dumbledore sharply. Breathing heavily, Hagrid gave Karkaroff a glowering look. “Maybe I'd better stay here. Headmaster.…” “You will take Harry back to school, Hagrid,” Dumbledore repeated firmly. “Take him right up to Gryffindor Tower. And Harry - I want you to stay there. Anything you might want to do - any owls you might want to send - they can wait until morning, do you understand me?” “Er - yes,” said Harry, staring at him. How had Dumbledore known that, at that very moment, he had been thinking about sending Pigwidgeon straight to Sirius, to tell him what had happened? “I'll leave Fang with yeh. Headmaster,” Hagrid said, staring menacingly at Karkaroff, who was still sprawled at the foot of the tree, tangled in furs and tree roots. “Stay, Fang. C'mon, Harry.” They marched in silence past the Beauxbatons carriage and up toward the castle. “How dare he,” Hagrid growled as they strode past the lake. “How dare he accuse Dumbledore. Like Dumbledore'd do anythin’ like that. Like Dumbledore wanted you in the tournament in the firs’ place. Worried! I dunno when I seen Dumbledore more worried than he's bin lately. An’ you!” Hagrid suddenly said angrily to Harry, who looked up at him, taken aback. “What were yeh doin', wanderin’ off with ruddy Krum? He's from Durmstrang, Harry! Coulda jinxed yeh right there, couldn he? Hasn’ Moody taught yeh nothin'? ‘Magine lettin him lure yeh off on yer own -” “Krum's all right!” said Harry as they climbed the steps into the entrance hall. “He wasn't trying to jinx me, he just wanted to talk about Hermione -” “I'll be havin’ a few words with her, an’ all,” said Hagrid grimly, stomping up the stairs. “The less you lot ‘ave ter do with these foreigners, the happier yeh'll be. Yeh can trust any of ‘em.” “You were getting on all right with Madame Maxime,” Harry said, annoyed. “Don’ you talk ter me abou’ her!” said Hagrid, and he looked quite frightening for a moment. “I've got her number now! Tryin’ ter get back in me good books, tryin’ ter get me ter tell her what's comin in the third task. Ha! You can’ trust any of'em!” Hagrid was in such a bad mood, Harry was quite glad to say good-bye to him in front of the Fat Lady. He clambered through the portrait hole into the common room and hurried straight for the corner where Ron and Hermione were sitting, to tell them what had happened. 第二八章 克劳斯先生疯了 星期天早上哈利、罗恩和荷米恩吃完早餐后就去了奥里路，送封信给伯希，问他最近有没有看到克劳斯先生，因为西里斯曾叫他们问。他们派海维去送信，因为她已经很久没事干了。看着她消失在视野后，他们才下厨房去给多比一双新短袜。 房子里的精灵们非常热烈地欢迎他们，又是鞠躬又是行屈膝礼，在他们周围忙成一团，要给他们再沏一次茶。然而多比最近似乎恍恍惚惚的，不知道自己做了什么。 “哈利-波特对多比太好了！”他尖声说着，边擦去大大的眼睛里滚出的大滴泪珠。 “你用吉利草救了我的命，多比，真的，你救了我。”哈利说。 “可以再来一点那种奶油巧克力小蛋糕吗？”罗恩说，他正看着周围那些面带喜色，恭恭敬敬的小精灵们。 “你才刚刚吃完早餐！”荷米恩有点生气地说，但是四个小精灵已经托着一个装有奶油巧克力蛋糕的大银盘向他们走来了。 “我们真应该把某些家伙送到史纳皮先生那里。”哈利很不满地嘟哝着。 “好主意，”罗恩说，“哎，你们不能再给我们多点吃的吗？”他后一句话是对小精灵们说的，后者听了，高兴地鞠了一个躬便转身赶紧去拿更多的来。 “多比，温奇在哪里？”荷米恩说着，眼睛向四处张望。 “温奇在那边，火的旁边，小姐。”多比轻声说，他的耳朵有点丧气地耷拉下来。 “噢，天哪。”荷米恩说，这时她认出了温奇。 哈利也向壁炉那边看去：温奇像上次一样坐在同样的凳子上，但她却变得那样的脏，一时难以让人把她和她背后那被烟熏得黑黑的砖分辨开来。她的衣服破破烂烂的，像是很久没洗过了。手里抓着一瓶黄油啤酒，在凳子上轻轻摇晃，眼睛怔怔地凝视着炉子里的火。正当大家都把目光放在她身上时，她打了一个很响的嗝。 “温奇现在一天能喝六瓶了。”多比悄声对哈利说。 “噢，那些酒还不是很厉害！”哈利说。 但多比摇头说：“对一个精灵来说，先生，这它已经够烈的了。” 温奇又在打嗝了。那些小精灵们上完蛋糕后，又准备回去工作，他们纷纷向温奇投去很不满的眼神。 “温奇现在很痛苦，哈利。伯特，”多比伤心地悄声说，“温奇想回家，她仍然相信克劳斯先生是她的主人，我说什么也不能说服她丹伯多教授是她现在的主人。” “嘿，温奇。”哈利说，他突然鼓起勇气向她走去，弯下腰对她说：“你不知道克劳斯先生将怎样，对不对？因为他不能去给三巫师争霸赛做裁判了。” 温奇的眼睛闪闪发光，她那巨大的瞳孔注视着哈利开始轻轻摇头，然后说：“主——主人不能——嗝——来？” “是的，”哈利说，“自从第一次任务后，我们就再没有见过他，《先知日报》说他病了。” 温奇又摇了几下，目光呆滞地凝视着哈利。“主人——嗝——病了？” 她的下唇开始颤抖。 “但我们不确定那是否是真的。”荷米恩急忙说。 “主人需要……嗝……我！”这个小精灵啜泣着。“主人不能……嗝……自己……嗝……处理……嗝……所有的事情……” “其它的人都自己做家务活，你知道的，温奇。”荷米恩严肃地说。 “温奇……嗝……不单只是……嗝……为克劳斯先生做家务！” 温奇气愤地尖声说，摇晃得更厉害了，啤酒泼到她那本已污迹斑斑的工作服上。“主人……嗝……信任温奇……嗝……把最重要…… 嗝……最秘密的……“ “什么？”哈利说。 但是温奇用力地摇头，更多的啤酒泼到了它的身上。 “温奇帮……嗝……主人保密，”她抗议地说，她摇得非常厉害，闭着眼睛向哈利皱眉说：“你想打听，你一定是！” “温奇不应该这样对哈利。伯特说话！”多比愤怒地说。“哈利。 伯特是勇敢的，高贵的；哈利。伯特不是爱打听的那种人！“ “他是在打听……嗝……打听主人的……嗝……隐私、秘密……温奇是个好精灵……嗝……温奇保持缄默……嗝……人们都想……嗝……打听别人的私事……嗝……”温奇的眼皮垂了下来，突然，她从凳子上滑下来滚到炉边，大声地打着耳鼾。啤酒的空瓶从石板铺的地面咕噜咕噜滚过去。 半打的小精灵急忙上前，看起来带着厌恶的神色。他们其中一个捡起瓶子，其他人用一块方格子花纹的桌布把她盖住并掖好布边，让她从大家的视线中消失。 “我们很抱歉让您看到这种情形，先生小姐们！”旁边的一个精灵尖声说，摇着头看起来很羞愧。“我们希望您不要以为我们都像温奇那样，先生小姐们！” “她显然很不高兴！”荷米恩带着不满的神情说，“为什么你们不试着让她高兴起来反而把她盖住？” “请您原谅，小姐，”小精灵说，又深深地鞠了一次躬，“但是小精灵是没有权利不高兴的，只有工作和为主人服务！” “噢，看在上帝的份上！”荷米思愤怒地说。“听着，你们所有的人！你们有权像巫师一样不高兴！你们有权拿工资，有假期，有像样的衣服，你们不需要去做别人要你们做的任何事——看看多比！” “小姐请别让多比卷进去。”多比喃喃地说，好像吓坏了。厨房周围的小精灵们看着荷米恩，高兴的笑容从脸上消失了。他们看着荷米恩的眼神突然变了，好像她是危险的疯子。 “我们只要你们吃剩的东西！”在哈利手肘上的一个小精灵尖声说，然后他把一大块火腿，一打蛋糕和一些水果推到哈利手臂中。 “再见！” 小精灵们围着哈利、罗恩和荷米恩，并开始催他们出厨房，许多小手在推他们的背。 “谢谢你的短袜，哈利。伯特！”多比从炉旁悲伤地叫着，在他旁边就是被桌布包着的温奇。 “你就不能闭嘴吗？荷米恩？”罗恩气愤地说。厨房的门在他们身后砰一声地关上，“他们现在不要我们去做客了！我们本来可以从温奇身上问出更多关于克劳斯的事”。 “噢，好像你真的关心那事！”荷米恩讥讽地说，“你喜欢去那儿只是为了那儿的吃的！” 自从那事发生后，那一天大家都变得急躁易怒。在休息室里面，哈利觉得很厌烦，罗恩和荷米恩一直在为家庭作业互相冷嘲热讽，所以到了晚上他带上西里斯的食物一个人径直到奥里路去了。 要把整一条火腿运到山上去对于皮威军来说根本不可能，他太小了。所以哈利征募了两只猫头鹰，他们老在学校里发出怪叫，起飞的时候捕起大片的尘土。那个大包裹横在他们之间，这让他们看起来怪极了。哈利斜靠在窗台上，看向远处。黑暗之中，树顶沙沙作响，仿佛警告着这片树林是片禁地；远处丹姆斯安的船在航行，荡起一片微波：一个个烟圈从哈格力的烟囱里冒出来；一只猫头鹰嗖的一声穿过烟圈向上直冲城堡，绕着奥里路飞了一圈然后消失在黑暗中。向下看，哈利看到哈格力正在卖力地在他的茅屋前掘着土。哈利觉得很奇怪：他到底在干什么？看起来他好像正想开辟一块新菜地。正当哈利看着的时候，玛西姆夫人从比尔贝顿马车里走出来，走向哈格力，她显然有什么话要跟他说。哈格力斜靠着他的铁锹，但看起来不热心于谈话，因为玛西姆夫人很快就回到马车里去了。 哈利很不愿意回到格林芬顿塔去，因为满耳都是罗恩和荷米恩的对骂声，所以他一直看着哈格力在挖着，直到他被黑暗吞没，再也看不见为止。哈利身边的猫头鹰们开始变得精神抖擞怪叫着从他身边飞过，消失在茫茫的夜幕中。 第二天早上吃早饭的时候，罗恩和荷米恩的争吵已达到白热化的程度。因为荷米恩侮辱了小精灵们，罗恩预言今早的饭桌上的早餐肯定会很差，不过好在这个糟糕的预言并没有实现，哈利松了一口气，因为咸肉，鸡蛋和鲑鱼都像平时一样好。 当猫头鹰邮递员来到时，荷米恩急切地向上看，好像在期待着什么。 “伯希不可能这么快就回信，”罗恩说，“我们昨天才让海维送信去。” “不，我不是盼望这个，”荷米恩说，“我已经订了《先知日报》，我讨厌老是什么都要问史林德林的那帮人。” “不错的想法！”哈利说着，他也抬头看着猫头鹰。“嘿，荷米恩，我想你正走运呢……” 一只灰色的猫头鹰向着荷米恩俯冲过来。 “它好像不是在拿着一份报纸。”她说，看起来有点失望。“它是……” 但令她迷惑的是，这只灰色的猫头鹰落在她的碟子面前，很快又有四只谷仓猫头鹰落下来，二只棕色，二只茶色。 “你到底订了多少只？”哈利说着，并抢在这群猫头鹰把荷米恩的高脚酒杯撞倒之前～把把她抢过来。猫头鹰们推推挤挤，争抢着要先给荷米恩信。 “这到底是怎么……？”荷米恩说，拿过灰猫头鹰送来的信，并打开来看。“唉，天哪！”她气急败坏地说，脸都涨红了。 “什么事？”罗恩说。 “它是——噢，多荒谬啊——”她把信递给哈利，哈利看了一眼，信好像不是手写的，而是由从《先知日报》上剪下来的字母粘贴而成的：“你是一个缺德的讨厌鬼，哈利-波特比你好，你从马格的哪里来就滚回哪里去。 “其它的信都像这样！”荷米恩绝望地说，她打开一封又一封信：“哈利-波特能做得比你不知好多少倍……”“你应当被放到青蛙卵里去煮……”“哎哟！” 她已经打开了最后一封信，一种很浓的闻起来像汽油的黄绿色液体涌出来流遍了她的双手。她的手马上像开水一样冒出一个个很大的黄色的泡泡。 “浓布伯溶液！”罗恩说着，小心翼翼地拎起信封嗅了嗅。 “噢！”荷米恩说，眼泪在眼眶里直打转，她想用一块布或餐巾纸擦干净手，但她的手被裹上了一层厚厚的让她疼得要命的东西，这让她看起来好像戴了一副厚厚的满是小瘤的手套。 “你最好马上去校医室，”哈利说，“我们会告诉史包特教授你去哪了……”这时，围在荷米恩周围的猫头鹰们开始起飞离开。 “我已经警告过她了！”罗恩说，他看着荷米恩急急忙忙地边跑出大堂，一边摇着她的手。“我警告过她别惹恼了理特。史姬特！看看这个……”他把一封荷米恩留下的信大声读了出来：“我在《女巫周刊》上看到你是怎样捉弄折磨哈利-波特的，那可怜的男孩吃足了你的苦头。只要我一找到一个足够大的信封，那么下一封信我会给你一个我的诅咒‘，我的天哪！她真应该自己小心一点。” 荷米恩没有上草药学课。当哈利和罗恩离开温室去上魔法生物保护课时，他们看到马尔夫，克来伯和高尔正从城堡的石阶上下来。班西。帕金森和史林德林班的女孩子们走在后面，一边小声耳语一边咯咯窃笑。一见到哈利，班西叫道：“波特，你和你的女朋友分手了吗？为什么早饭的时候她看起来那么难过？” 哈利不理她。如果她知道那篇在《女巫周刊》上的文章引起了多大的麻烦，她一定会幸灾乐祸的，他才不想让她知道。 上节课哈格力已经告诉他们已经学完了独角兽这一课，他现在正在他的小屋外面等着他们，在他脚边的是一只只新的木箱，箱子是打开着的。哈利一看到箱子，心一下子沉了下去：别又是像史库斯一类的东西吧？但当他走近前一看，箱子里面是一些毛绒绒黑乎乎、鼻子长长的小东西，他们的前爪出奇的胖，像铲子。正对着大家直眨眼睛，似乎对这么多人看着他们感到迷惑不解。 “这是尼弗，”哈格力说，大家围拢上来。“你们一般可以在矿脉里面找到它们，它们喜欢闪闪发光的东西……你们过来看。” 正说着，其中一只尼弗突然跳起来想把班西。帕金森手腕上的手表咬下来，她发出一声惊叫急忙往后弹开。 “非常有用的宝藏勘探者，”哈格力高兴地说，“不过我们今天会跟它们玩个游戏。看到那儿没有？”他拍着那一大块新挖过的地，正是那天哈利从奥里路的窗户上看到他正在挖的那块。“我埋了一些金币在里面，你们中谁利用尼弗挖得最多我有奖。先把你们身上值钱的东西都摘下来。好了，现在你们每人挑一只尼弗，然后我喊预备，开始。” 哈利脱下他的手表。它早就坏了，但哈利习惯了戴着所以一直没脱下来。他把手表塞到口袋里去。然后他挑了一只尼弗。它老是把它那长鼻子弄到哈利的耳朵里去，还热情地在他身上嗅来嗅去。 真是个爱和人亲热的小家伙。 “快点，”哈格力说，他看了看纸箱：“这还有一只，谁没拿？ 荷米恩去哪了？“ “她去了校医室。”罗恩说。 “我们迟些再跟您解释。”哈利小声说，班西。帕金森竖起了耳朵。 这是他们上魔法生物保护课以来最有趣的一节。尼弗们钻进钻出那块地，仿佛那不是土地而是水。每一个都急急忙忙地跑回它们的搭档学生那里，把金币吐到他们手上。罗恩的特别神速，很快他的脚边就满是金币。 “能买下它们做宠物吗？哈利。”他兴奋地问，它的尼弗又钻到土里去了，把他的衣服弄得沙沙响。“你妈会不高兴的，罗恩，”哈利笑着说，“它们会把房子给毁掉的，噢，我想它们应该差不多都挖完了吧。”他绕着那块地走了一圈，看着那些尼弗还在钻进钻出，“我只埋了一百个金币。噢，你来了，荷米恩！” 荷米恩正在草坪上向他们走来，她的手缠满了绷带，看起来很悲伤。班西。帕金森瞪着圆圆的小眼睛看着她。 “好吧，让我看看你们都干得怎样！”哈格力说，“数数你们的硬币。别想偷偷藏起来几个，高尔，”他加上一句，他那黑色突出的眼睛眯了起来，“它是小精灵的金子，几个小时后就会消失。” 高尔连忙把衣袋都翻出来，都是空的，他看起来很不高兴。最后胜利者是罗恩，哈格力给了他一大块巧克力作奖励。这时午饭钟响了，其他人都陆续回城堡去，只剩下哈利、罗恩和荷米恩留下帮哈格力把那些尼弗放回到箱子里去，哈利注意到玛西姆夫人从马车的窗户探出头来看着他们。 “你的手怎么了，荷米恩？”哈格力关心地问。 荷米恩告诉他，那天早上她收到一封可恨的信，信封里全是布伯浓液。 “别担心，”哈格力低头看着她，柔声说。“理特。史姬特写了我的妈妈后，我也收到一些那种信，像‘你是一个怪物，你应该被杀掉！’‘你妈妈杀了无辜的人，如果你还有羞耻心的话就应该去跳湖！？之类的。” “不！”荷米恩说，看起来很震惊。 “是的，”哈格力说，他把装着尼弗的箱子都放到小屋的墙角边。“他们都是怪人，荷米恩。下次你再收到这样的信，别打开，直接扔到壁炉里去。” “你错过了一节多棒的课啊。”哈利遗憾地对荷米恩说，他们开始返回到城堡里去。“他们很棒，尼弗们，不是吗，罗恩？” 罗恩此时却正对着哈格力给他的巧克力直皱眉。他好像在想什么。 “怎么回事？”哈利说，“不合口味？” “不。”罗恩说，“为什么你不告诉我关于那些金子的事？” “什么金子？”哈利说。 “就是在快迪斯世界杯赛上我给你的那些金子，”罗恩说，“我为望远镜而还给你的那些小精灵的金子，在上等厢里。为什么你不告诉我它消失了？” 哈利想了一会儿才想到罗恩是在指什么。 “噢……”他说，最后他想起来了。“我不知道……我从没留意到它不见了，我更应该担心的是我的魔杖，不是吗？” 他们走上石阶，进了门厅，然后到大堂里去吃午饭。 当他们坐下来，烤牛肉和约克郡布丁也开始送上来的时候。 “多好啊，”罗恩突然说，“有那么一大袋的钱掉了却不知道，真讽刺。” “听着，那晚我还有其它事情要操心！”哈利不耐烦地说，“我们都要做很多其它的事，记得吗？” “我不知道精灵金子会消失，”罗恩咕哝着，“我以为我还了你钱，你就不应该只给我那顶库得利加能帽作圣诞礼物。” “忘了它，行吗？”哈利说。 罗恩用叉子戳了一块烤土豆，瞪着它，然后说：“我恨没钱。” 哈利和荷米恩对垒了一眼，两个人都不知道说什么好。 “真是垃圾，”罗恩说，仍然在盯着他的土豆。“我一点也不觉得弗来德和乔治想方设法赚外快是一件羞耻的事。我倒希望我也能，如果我有一只尼弗就好了。” “好吧，我们知道你下一个圣诞节要什么礼物了。”荷米恩高兴地说。但罗恩还是看起来很阴沉，她又说：“高兴起来吧。罗恩，你现在多好，至少手指上不会满是浓液。”荷米恩的手指又肿又硬，这费了她很大劲去用刀叉。“我恨那个史姬特女人！”她终于忍不住大叫起来，“终有一天我要她偿还这一切！” 在接下来的一周里，那些恶毒的信还一直如雪片般飞来，虽然她遵照哈格力的叮嘱不去拆它，但有几个诅咒她的人甚至送来了咆哮弹，这些咆哮弹在格林芬顿的桌子上炸开。那些尖声侮辱她的话响沏了整个大堂。现在甚至那些没看过《女巫周刊》的人都知道所谓的“哈利——克伦——荷米恩三角关系”了。哈利已经厌烦了一遍又一遍地告诉人们荷米思不是他的女朋友。 “很快就会过去的，”哈利对荷米恩说，“如果我们不理它，迟早有一天人们会对她所写的那些关于我的东西感到厌倦的。” “我倒很想知道为什么她总是能偷听到那些她想要铲除的人的私下谈话！”荷米恩愤怒地说。 在防巫术课后，荷米恩犹犹豫豫地想上前向莫迪教授问点什么。教室里的其它人都想马上离开，因为莫迪教授刚刚给他们做了一个严酷的巫术偏离测试。他们中许多人都受了点小伤，想回去处理一下。哈利把巫术“抽筋的耳朵”弄得太糟了，弄得他在离开课室时边用手夹紧耳朵，不让它们乱动。 五分钟后，荷米恩在门厅上赶上了哈利和罗恩，她气喘吁吁地说：“噢！理特不是正用着隐形衣吧！”她一边说着一边把哈利的一只手从他不停煽动的耳朵旁拉开，那样他就可以听她说话了。“莫迪说在第二次考验的时候，他在裁判桌上哪儿也找不到她，湖边也是。”“荷米恩，有什么迹像让你得出这个结论吗？”罗恩说。 “没有！”荷米恩执拗地说，“我想知道她怎么听到我和克伦的谈话的，还有，她怎么知道哈格力的妈妈的事的！” “也许她在你身上装了窃听器。”哈利说。 “放虫子？”罗恩搞糊涂了。“什么？……是在她身上放跳蚤或其它什么东西吗？” 哈利开始讲关于偷装麦克风或录音装置之类的事。 罗恩听得入了迷，但荷米思打断他们，“你们两个曾经打算去看看《霍格瓦彻》，关于它的一段历史吗？” “搞什么？”罗恩说，“你对它最清楚不过了，我们问你就行了。” “这些都是在魔法马格里用的代替品，像电，电脑和雷达，在霍格瓦彻到处都是，乱七八糟。空中太多魔法了。是了，理特正在用魔法偷听，一定是……如果我能发现她用什么来偷听……噢，如果那是违法的，我一定要把她……” “我们是不是太多虑了？”罗恩问她。“我们一定要和理特。史姬特这样怨怨相报下去吗？” “我又没叫你帮忙！”荷米恩说，“我自己来！” 她转身头也不回地向大理石的楼梯走去，哈利肯定她是去了图书馆。 “打个赌怎么样？我肯定她回来时候一定会抱着一大箱徽章，上面写着：我恨理特。史姬特。” 荷米恩没有叫哈利和罗恩去帮她向理特。史姬特展开报仇，他们还巴不得呢，因为随着复活节的来临，他们的工作量更大了。坦白地说，哈利对荷米恩感到很惊讶，惊讶她会去查找至今所有曾用来偷听的魔法。他竭力按时完成他们的家庭作业，但他还是抽出时间去山洞里给西里斯送饭。去年夏天以来，他一直忘不了什么是持续的饥饿。他还附上一张纸条给西里斯，告诉他没什么异常的事发生，他们仍在等伯希的消息。 海维直到复活节结束时才回来。伯希的信附在威斯里太太送的复活节彩蛋的包裹里。送给哈利和罗恩的彩蛋都像龙蛋一样大小，而且还有很多自家做的太妃糖。但是荷米恩的彩蛋比一个小鸡蛋还小，她一看到这个蛋，脸就拉长了。 “你妈妈没有着《女巫周刊》吧？”她冷冷地问。 “看了，”罗恩说，嘴里塞满了太妃糖。“还用来做菜谱呢。” 荷米恩很伤心地看着她那小得可怜的彩蛋。 “你不想看看伯希写了什么吗？”哈利问她。 伯希的信非常短，而且从信中看来他很烦。 我不是一直都对《先知日报》说，克劳斯先生正在休假吗，他还定期让猫头鹰发来指示，事实上我没见过他，但我想我能肯定这是我上司的笔迹。我现在有很多事情要做，没空去理那些荒谬的玩笑。如果没有什么重要的事请不要来打扰我。复活节快乐。 夏天的第一个新的学期开始了，这就意味着哈利要为这个季度的最后一次“三巫师争霸赛”进行艰苦的训练。今年是“三巫师争霸赛”的第三次，也是最后的一次考验。为此哈利需要准备一下，但他仍然不知道要做些什么。最后，在五月的最后一个星期，麦康娜教授在变身课后把他留了下来。 “波特，你今晚九点到快迪斯比赛场地去。”她对哈利说。“巴格蒙先生将告诉你们这些优胜者们关于第三次考验的事。” 所以那天晚上八点半，哈利就把罗恩和荷米恩留在格林芬顿塔里，一个人下了楼梯。当他经过门厅时，遇到刚从海夫巴夫公共休息室里出来的塞德里克。 “你认为结果会怎么样？”他问哈利。他们走下石阶，走到阴云密布的夜幕中去。“芙璐老是在地道里转悠，她想我们可以去找财宝。” “不坏。”哈利说。他想他自己肯定会去问哈格力要一只尼弗来帮他找，那事情就简单多了。 他们走下黑暗的草坪向快迪斯露天体育馆走去，绕过看台上的一条裂缝，走到场地上去。 “他们都在这里做了些什么呀？”塞德里克气愤地说。前面没有路了，他们只得停下来。 快迪斯比赛场所再也不是光滑平坦的了，看起来好像什么人在上面做了很多又长又矮的墙，这些墙蜿蜒交叉，向各个方向伸展开来。 “这是灌木篱笆。”哈利说，他正弯腰仔细查看。 这时传来了一个愉快的声音：“你好！” 露得。巴格蒙和克伦和芙璐正站在场地的中央向他们招呼，因为没有路，哈利和塞德里克只好翻过这些树篱。当哈利越走越近，芙璐看着他微笑。自从上次哈利将她妹妹从湖中拉上来后，她对哈利的态度就来了个一百八十度大转弯。 “你们觉得怎么样？”当哈利和塞德里克翻过最后一道树篱时，巴格蒙说，他好像很开心，“长势不错，再给它们一个月时间，哈格力能让它们长到二十五英尺高。别担心。”他笑着加上一句，因为他从哈利和塞德里克的表情上看出，他们一点也不开心。“考验一结束，快迪斯马上就会恢复原样的！现在我想你们可以猜到我们在这正在做什么了吧？” 有一会儿没人出声，然后——“迷宫。”克伦咕哝出一句。 “完全正确！”巴格蒙。“一个迷宫，第三次任务真是非常简单而且直接，奖杯就放在迷宫的中央，第一个触摸到它的人拿满分。” “我们只要穿过迷宫吗？”芙璐说。 “会有些障碍。”巴格蒙开心地说，边拍着脚上的球，“哈格力放了些生物进去……然后还有些要破的符咒……都是那类的东西，你瞧。目前分数领先的优胜者将先进入迷宫。”巴格蒙对哈利和塞德里克笑了笑，“先是克伦先生进去……再来就是迪来高小姐。但你们都会有一个公平比试的机会。就看你们怎样排除障碍了。不是很有趣吗，嗯？” 哈利太清楚了，哈格力在这种比赛中还会放什么样的生物进去呢。虽然很可能根本一点都没有趣。但他还是像其他人一样礼貌性地点了点头。 “非常好……如果你们没什么问题，我们将回到城堡去，这儿有些冷……” 当他们开始慢慢地走出这片正在长的迷宫时，巴格蒙赶紧走到哈利身边，哈利感觉到巴格蒙想提出再帮他的忙。但正在这时，克伦拍了拍哈利的肩膀。 “我能和你说句话吗？” “好的，行。”哈利说。他有点惊讶。 “和我一起走，好吗？” “好吧。”哈利好奇地说。 巴格蒙着起来有点烦躁不安：“我会等你的，哈利，要吗？” “不用了，巴格蒙先生，没什么问题。”哈利说，他忍住不笑起来，“我想我可以自己找到回城堡的路的，谢谢。” 哈利和克伦一起离开了体育馆，但克伦没有走通向丹姆斯安的路反而向森林走去。 “我们走这条路干什么？”哈利说。他们已经走过了哈格力的小屋，又看到比克斯贝克顿斯马车。 “不想让别人听到。”克伦简短地说了一句。 最后他们到了一片寂静的空地，这里离比克斯贝克顿斯的马房只有很短的一段路。克伦在树影下停住，转身面对着哈利。 “我想知道。”他说，目光的灼灼地看着哈利。“你和荷米恩之间是什么关系。” 本来从克伦的神神秘秘的举止中，哈利还以为有什么非常严重的事。他听到这里，惊讶地瞪着克伦。 “什么也没有。”他说，但克伦怒视着他。哈利这时多少有点重新意识到克伦比他不知高了多少。他煞费苦心地在心里盘算了一会儿说：“我们是朋友，她不是我的女朋友而且从来也不是。这一切都是史姬特那女人造的谣。” “但荷米恩经常谈起你。”克伦说，用怀疑眼光看着哈利。 “是的。”哈利说，“因为我们是朋友。” 他简直不敢相信和他正在进行这种谈话的是维特。克伦，著名的国际快迪斯选手。看起来这位十八岁的克伦居然把他哈利，看做一个可以和他对等的——一个真正的对手——“你从没……你没有……” “没有。”哈利非常坚定地说。 克伦看起来开心了一点。他盯着哈利看了几秒钟然后说：“你飞得非常好，我看了第一次考验。” “谢谢。”哈利笑起来，突然觉得自己高大了许多。“我在快迪斯世界杯上看到你了。你真……” 但突然他看到克伦身后的树丛动了一下，好像有什么东西潜伏在森林里，哈利就曾经遇到过类似的情况。他本能地一把抓住克伦的手臂把他拉了过来。 “什么东西？” 哈利摇摇头，伸手到怀里拿魔杖。 过了一会儿，一个人摇摇晃晃地从一棵高大的橡树后面走出来。好一阵子哈利还没把他认出来……然后他忽然想到他就是克劳斯先生。 他看起来已经走了好几天了，膝盖上的袍子被撕破了，血迹斑斑。他的脸也擦破了，胡子拉茬的，而且脸由于劳累而变得灰败。 他向来干净整洁的头发和胡子现在看来需要好好的清洗和修剪，本来他在这种地方这种时候出现已经很奇怪了，但更奇怪的是他正在边咕哝边做着手势，好像在与某个只有他自己才能看见的人说话，这让哈利想起了某次和杜斯利一家去商店时在街上碰到的一个老流浪汉，那个人也是在胡乱地对空气说话。当时帕尤妮亚姨妈抓着达德里的手把他拉过马路免得遇见他。维能姨丈后来还就他会如何对待乞丐和流浪汉这个问题发了一通长篇大论。 “他不是一个裁判吗？”克伦问。他盯着克劳斯先生，“他不是和你们的部长在一起吗？” 哈利点点头。虽然他有点犹豫但他还是慢慢地向克劳斯先生走去。克劳斯先生根本没看他一眼，他正对着他附近的一株树讲话：“……威斯里，当你做完那件事后，派一只猫头鹰到丹伯多确认参加比赛的丹姆斯安的学生的人数。卡克罗夫刚刚传话，说将有十二名参赛者……” “克劳斯先生？”哈利小心地说。 “……然后再派一只猫头鹰到玛西姆女士那里去，她可能会要加上她带来的学生，所以卡克罗夫现在算它大约是十二名……就那样做吧，威斯里，好吗？好吗？好……”克劳斯先生的眼睛凸出，站在那儿死瞪着那棵树，嘴里不知道咕哝着些什么。接着他摇摇晃晃地向一旁走去，突然一下子跪在地上。 “克劳斯先生？”哈利大声叫着，“你还好吗？” 克劳斯先生的眼珠在他头上乱转，哈利回头看了看克伦，他也跟着走进树林里来了，正警惕地看着克劳斯先生。 “他怎么了？” “不知道。”哈利咕哝着，“听着，你最好回去叫人……” “丹伯多！”克劳斯先生喘息着突然叫道。他伸手一把抓住了哈利的衣服，把哈利拉近了点；但目光却越过了哈利的头顶。“我要……见……丹伯多……” “好的，”哈利说，“如果您起来，克劳斯先生，我们马上去……” “我做了件……愚蠢的……事情……”克劳斯先生喘着气。他整个人看起来好像疯了：眼睛像金鱼眼一样突出而且还在不停乱转；下巴淌着口水。他每说一个字都好像用尽了吃奶的力气。“必须……告诉……丹伯多……” “起来吧，克劳斯先生。”哈利大声清楚地说。“起来，我带您去见丹伯多！” 克劳斯先生的眼睛这时才转到哈利身上。 “你……谁？”他低声说。 “我是这里学校的一个学生。”哈利说，他转过身去向克伦求助。但克伦踌躇不前，看起来紧张极了。 “你不是……他的？”克劳斯先生悄声问，他的嘴巴搭拉了下来。 “不是。”哈利说，虽然他一点都不明白克劳斯先生在说什么。 “丹伯多的？” “是的。”哈利说。 克劳斯先生把他拉得更近了，哈利曾试着让克劳斯先生抓住他施子的手松点，但是不行，他太大力了。 “警告……丹伯多……” “如果您能放开我，我就去丹伯多那里。”哈利说，“只要放我走，克劳斯先生，我就去找他……” “谢谢你，威斯里，你做完后，我想来杯茶，我太太和儿子很快就会到了，今晚我们会和法治先生和他太太一起去听音乐会。” 克劳斯先生又在跟一株树说话，这时他说得很流利，而且一点也没有意识到哈利的存在。哈利太惊讶了，连克劳斯先生什么时候放手了，他都不知道。克劳斯先生继续说：“是的，最近我儿子过了十二个普通巫师水平考试。我很满意，是的，谢谢，是的，非常自豪。好，如果你能带给我安多伦魔法内阁的备忘录，我想我可以有时间草拟一份答复……” “你呆在这儿陪着他。”哈利对克伦说，“我去找丹伯多，我会尽快的，我知道他的办公室在哪——” “他疯了。”克伦怀疑地说，他瞪着克劳斯先生，后者还在对着树喋喋不休，显然他把树当成了伯希。 “你就和他呆在这吧。”哈利说着准备动身，但他一动克劳斯先生又突然有了新变化，他突然紧紧地抱着哈利的腿一下子把哈利拽到地上去了。 “别……离开……我！”他低声说，他的眼睛又突出来了。“我逃出来……必须警告……必须告诉……丹伯多……我的错……都是我的错……珀茜……死了……都是我的错……我儿子……我的错……告诉丹伯多……哈利-波特……黑暗公爵……更强大……哈利。 波特……“ “如果你让我走，我会去找丹伯多的，克劳斯先生！”哈利说，他狂怒地看向克伦。“你就不能帮帮我吗？” 克伦走过来蹲在克劳斯先生的旁边，他看起来非常担忧。 “你就让他呆在这里。”哈利说着边把自己的脚拉出来。“我很快就会和丹伯多一起回来。” “你能快点吗？”克伦在他后面叫着，哈利以百米冲刺的速度跑出森林，穿过黑暗的操场。操场上现在显得很荒凉，巴格蒙，塞德里克和芙珊已经不见了。哈特狂奔上石阶，穿过橡树前门，跑上大理石楼梯向着第二道门跑去。 五分钟后，他向着空空的走廊中间蹲着的一个石头怪兽滴水嘴疾奔过去。 “柠一柠檬汁！”他气喘吁吁地对它说。 这里有一个隐蔽的楼梯间可以走向丹伯多的办公室。他刚才说的是过去的暗号，但这个暗号至少已是两年前的了。很显然，暗号已经改了。因为石头怪兽没有像预期的那样变得有生命并跳到一旁，仍旧站着一动不动，幸灾乐祸地看着哈利。 “动啊！”哈利对它吼道。“快点！” 但是在霍格瓦彻，没有东西会因为你对它大吼大叫就会动。他知道这样没用。哈利在黑黑的走廊里看来看去。也许丹伯多在教工休息室里，于是他尽全力向楼梯跑去——“波特！” 哈利来了个急刹车，转过身来。 史纳皮正向哈利打招呼，他显然刚从石头怪兽后面的隐蔽楼梯间里走出来，因为他身后的墙正缓缓地关上。“你在这干什么，波特？”他问道。 “我要见丹伯多教授！”哈利说，他从走廊那边跑过来在史纳皮面前刹住。“克劳斯先生……他在……他在森林里……他问——” “你在胡说些什么？”史纳皮说，他那黑色的眼睛闪闪发光。 “克劳斯先生！”哈利嚷道。“他是内阁的人！不知是病了还是怎的——他在森林里，他要见丹伯多！告诉我暗号我好去……” “校长正忙着呢，波特。”史纳皮说，虽然他有点不高兴但嘴角还是挤了一个笑容。 “我要见丹伯多！”哈利大喊。 “你没听见我说什么吗，波特？” 哈利很生气，他觉得自己正惊慌失措的时候，史纳皮却好像在看戏。 “听着。”哈利怒气冲冲地说，“克劳斯先生不大对劲——他——他好像脑子不大正常——他说他要警告——” 这时史纳皮身后的墙又开了。站在里面的正是丹伯多。他穿着件绿袍子，脸上带着好奇的神情。 “出了什么问题吗？”他说着，看了看哈利又看了看史纳皮。 “教授！”哈利说，他横跨了一步，抢在史纳皮之前说。“克劳斯到这儿来了——他正在下面的树林里，他要和您说话！” 哈利等着丹伯多问问题，但他松了口气，因为丹伯多什么也没问，“带路吧！”他马上说，并跟着哈利穿过走廊，只留下史纳皮先生站在石兽旁边，不过他的脸色比怪兽难看两倍。 “克劳斯先生说了些什么，哈利？”丹伯多说。他们飞速地走下大理石楼梯。 “他说他要向您报警……说他做了很糟糕可怕的事……他提到他儿子……还有珀茜-佐金斯……和……和福尔得摩特……关于什么福尔得摩特正变得更强大……” “该死。”丹伯多说着加快了他的步伐，他们急冲到黑暗中去了。 “他举止反常，”哈利说，他得加快脚步才能跟得上丹伯多。 “他看起来好像不知道自己在哪，老是以为自己在跟伯希。威斯里说话，然后一下子又变了，说是要见您……我让维特。克伦留下来陪着他。” “什么？真的吗？”丹伯多尖声说，他的步子迈得更大了。哈利现在得跑起来才跟得上。“你知不知道还有谁看见了克劳斯先生？” “没有，”哈利说，“巴格蒙先生刚给我们讲完第三次任务的事。 克伦和我有事要谈所以留了下来。然后我们就看到克劳斯先生从森林里走出来——“ “他们在哪？”当比尔贝顿家马车从黑暗中出现时丹伯多问道。 “那边。”哈利说，他在前面带着丹伯多穿过树林，他听不到克劳斯的声音但他知道应该走哪儿：应该离比尔贝斯家的马车不远……就在附近的什么地方…… “维特？”哈利喊道。 没有回答。 “他们在这儿的，”哈利对丹伯多说：“他们就在这附近的某个地方……” “路摩斯。”丹伯多念了一句，他的魔杖突然发出光，他把魔杖举高。 小小的光芒，在黑暗的树林中照来照去，然后落到地面上的一双脚上。 哈利和丹伯多急忙跑上前去，克伦趴在地上好像失去了知觉。 丹伯多弯下腰轻轻地翻了翻他的眼皮。 “被弄晕了。”他轻声说。他细细查看周围的树木，半月形的眼镜反射着魔杖的光，闪烁不定。 “要我去找人吗？”哈利说，“去找波姆弗雷夫人？” “不用。”丹伯多很快地说。“呆在这儿。” 他把魔杖举到空中，指着哈格力的小屋那个方向，哈利看到像银箭似的东西飞射出来，像一支精灵鸟一样穿越树林。然后丹伯多再对克伦弯下腰，用魔杖指着他咕哝看：“安维特。” 克伦睁开眼睛，看起来很茫然。当他看到丹伯多，他想坐起来，但丹伯多把手放在他肩膀上，让他静静地躺着。 “他袭击我！”克伦发着牢骚，把一只手放在他头上，“那个老疯子居然向我攻击！当时我想看看波特是不是走了，他就从我后面攻击我！” “安静的躺会儿。”丹伯多说。 像打雷一样的脚步声接近他们，很快哈格力出现了，弗兰紧跟在他后面，他还带着他的弓来。 “丹伯多教授！”他叫道，眼睛瞪得圆圆的。“哈利——怎么回——？” “哈格力，我要你去把卡克罗夫教授叫来，”丹伯多说。“他的学生被袭击了，然后顺便叫莫迪小心一点——” “不用了，丹伯多。”一个气喘吁吁的声音咆哮着，“我来了。” 莫迪拉着拐杖，手里拿着发光的魔杖，正一瘸一拐地向他们走来。 “该死的腿。”他怒气冲冲地说，“要不然我就能更快到这儿……发生什么事？史纳皮说什么克劳斯——” “克劳斯？”哈格力一脸茫然。 “请你快去找卡克罗夫，哈格力！”丹伯多严厉地说。 “唉，对……您来得正好，教授……”哈格力说着转身消失在黑暗的树林中，弗兰也跟着跑上去。 “我不知道巴地。克劳斯在哪？”丹伯多对莫迪说，“但首先我们要找到他。” “我去。”莫迪粗声粗气地说，他拿出他的魔杖，一瘸一拐地走进森林里去了。 之后丹伯多和哈利两人都没有再出声，不久他们听到哈格力和弗兰回来的声音，卡克罗夫急急忙忙地跟在他们后面。他穿着光滑的银色皮大衣，脸色苍白而激动。 “这是怎么回事？”当他看到克伦躺在地上，哈利和丹伯多站在一旁，不禁嚷了起来。 “我被袭击了！”克伦说，他现在坐了起来，用手揉着头，“是克劳斯先生或某个不知名的人——” “克劳斯先生袭击你？克劳斯先生袭击你？三巫师争霸赛的裁判？” “艾格。”丹伯多开口说，但是卡克罗夫马上打断他的话，裹紧他的皮大衣，看起来很愤怒。 “骗子！”他指着丹伯多吼道，“这是个阴谋，你和你的魔法内阁设了一个骗局把我引到这儿来。丹伯多！这不是个公平的竞争！ 首先是你把波特偷偷塞进比赛，虽然他还未成年！现在你的一个内阁朋友又想暗算我的学生。整一件事都充满了言行不一和腐败堕落。还有你，丹伯多，你还说什么国际巫师大团结，什么重建旧联系，什么求同存异——这就是我对你的看法！“ 卡克罗夫呸的一声吐了一口唾沫在地上。但转眼间，哈格力抓住了卡克罗夫的皮大衣的前襟，把他举到空中，钉在附近的一棵树。 “道歉！”哈格力吼道，巨大的拳头顶在卡克罗夫的喉咙上，这使他喘不过气来，双脚在半空中拼命摇晃。 “哈格力，不要！”丹伯多大叫，他的眼睛闪闪发光。 哈格力把手放开，卡克罗夫就顺着树平滑下来，在树根上跌成一团，树枝和树叶洒在他的头上。 “请护送哈利回城堡吧，哈格力。”丹伯多尖声说。 哈格力重重地喘息着，狠狠地瞪了卡克罗夫一眼说：“也许我最好留在这儿，校长……” “你带哈利回学校，哈格力。”丹伯多坚定地说。“直把他送到格林芬顿塔。还有哈利——我要你呆在那儿。无论你想做什么——或让猫头鹰去送什么信——可以等到明天，你明白我的意思吗？” “哦——好的。”哈利惊讶地瞪着他：丹伯多怎么知道的，在那一刻，他确实想过要送封信给西里斯，告诉他发生了什么事。 “我把弗兰留下来陪着您，校长。”哈格力说，他仍在威胁卡克罗夫，并瞪着他，后者仍趴在树根上，皮大衣上满是树根。“留在这，弗兰，走吧，哈利。” 在沉默中，他们走过了比尔贝顿的马车，向城堡进发。 当他们经过湖边时，哈格力怒吼着说：“他怎敢指责丹伯多所做的那些事？还有让你参加第一次比赛的事，真操心。我还没见过丹伯多曾经像最近一样担忧操心呢。还有你！”哈格力突然气愤地对哈利说，后者看着他，吓了一跳。“你在那做什么？跟着那红脸小子克伦乱跑，哈利！他会让你倒霉的，不是吗？莫迪什么也没教你吗？想象一下他把你一个人引诱出来——” “克伦很好！”哈利说，他们正爬着通往门厅的石阶。“他没想过要把我怎么样，他只想和我谈谈荷米恩——” “迟些我会和她谈谈的。”哈格力阴沉地说，脚重重地顿着楼梯。“你越跟那些外国人少来往，你就会活得越开心，你不要相信他们中的任何人。” “你不也跟玛西姆女士相处得不错吗？”哈利说，他有点心烦。 “别跟我谈她！”哈格力说，好一会儿他看起来很受惊吓。“我现在拿到了她的号码！她想借我的书，想让我告诉他第三次考验会有什么。哈！你真是不能相信他们中的任何人。” 哈格力心情很坏，所以哈利很高兴在胖大婶面前和他道再见。 他爬过画像洞口进了休息室，迫不及待地跑向罗恩和荷米恩所坐的角落，他要告诉他们刚刚发生了什么事。 |
Chapter 27 Padfoot Returns One of the best things about the aftermath of the second task was that everybody was very keen to hear details of what had happened down in the lake, which meant that Ron was getting to share Harry's limelight for once. Harry noticed that Ron's version of events changed subtly with every retelling. At first, he gave what seemed to be the truth; it tallied with Hermione's story, anyway - Dumbledore had put all the hostages into a bewitched sleep in Professor McGonagall's office, first assuring them that they would be quite safe, and would awake when they were back above the water. One week later, however, Ron was telling a thrilling tale of kidnap in which he struggled single-handedly against fifty heavily armed merpeople who had to beat him into submission before tying him up. “But I had my wand hidden up my sleeve,” he assured Padma Patil, who seemed to be a lot keener on Ron now that he was getting so much attention and was making a point of talking to him every time they passed in the corridors. “I could've taken those mer-idiots any time I wanted.” “What were you going to do, snore at them?” said Hermione waspishly. People had been teasing her so much about being the thing that Viktor Krum would most miss that she was in a rather tetchy mood. Ron's ears went red, and thereafter, he reverted to the bewitched sleep version of events. As they entered March the weather became drier, but cruel winds skinned their hands and faces every time they went out onto the grounds. There were delays in the post because the owls kept being blown off course. The brown owl that Harry had sent to Sirius with the dates of the Hogsmeade weekend turned up at breakfast on Friday morning with half its feathers sticking up the wrong way; Harry had no sooner torn off Sirius's reply than it took flight, clearly afraid it was going to be sent outside again. Sirius's letter was almost as short as the previous one. Be at stile at end of road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Bring as much food as you can. “He hasn't come back to Hogsmeade?” said Ron incredulously. “It looks like it, doesn't it?” said Hermione. “I can't believe him,” said Harry tensely, “if he's caught…” “Made it so far, though, hasn't he?” said Ron. “And it's not like the place is swarming with dementors anymore.” Harry folded up the letter, thinking. If he was honest with himself, he really wanted to see Sirius again. He therefore approached the final lesson of the afternoon - double Potions - feeling considerably more cheerful than he usually did when descending the steps to the dungeons. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing in a huddle outside the classroom door with Pansy Parkinson's gang of Slytherin girls. All of them were looking at something Harry couldn't see and sniggering heartily. Pansys pug-like face peered excitedly around Goyle's broad back as Harry, Ron, and Hermione approached. “There they are, there they are!” she giggled, and the knot of Slytherins broke apart. Harry saw that Pansy had a magazine in her hands - Witch Weekly. The moving picture on the front showed a curly-haired witch who was smiling toothily and pointing at a large sponge cake with her wand. “You might find something to interest you in there, Granger!” Pansy said loudly, and she threw the magazine at Hermione, who caught it, looking startled. At that moment, the dungeon door opened, and Snape beckoned them all inside. Hermione, Harry, and Ron headed for a table at the back of the dungeon as usual. Once Snape had turned his back on them to write up the ingredients of todays potion on the blackboard, Hermione hastily rifled through the magazine under the desk. At last, in the center pages, Hermione found what they were looking for. Harry and Ron leaned in closer. A color photograph of Harry headed a short piece entitled: Harry Potter's Secret Heartache A boy like no other, perhaps - yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss. Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys’ affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has “never felt this way about any other girl.” However, it might not be Miss Granger's doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate boys’ interest. “She's really ugly,” says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, “but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy. I think that's how she's doing it.” Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potters well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate. “I told you!” Ron hissed at Hermione as she stared down at the article. “I told you not to annoy Rita Skeeter! She's made you out to be some sort of- of scarlet woman!” Hermione stopped looking astonished and snorted with laughter. “Scarlet woman?” she repeated, shaking with suppressed giggles as she looked around at Ron. “It's what my mum calls them,” Ron muttered, his ears going red. “If that's the best Rita can do, she's losing her touch,” said Hermione, still giggling, as she threw Witch Weekly onto the empty chair beside her. “What a pile of old rubbish.” She looked over at the Slytherins, who were all watching her and Harry closely across the room to see if they had been upset by the article. Hermione gave them a sarcastic smile and a wave, and she, Harry, and Ron started unpacking the ingredients they would need for their Wit-Sharpening Potion. “There's something funny, though,” said Hermione ten minutes later, holding her pestle suspended over a bowl of scarab beetles. “How could Rita Skeeter have known…?” “Known what?” said Ron quickly. “You haven't been mixing up Love Potions, have you?” “Don't be stupid,” Hermione snapped, starting to pound up her beetles again. “No, it's just…how did she know Viktor asked me to visit him over the summer?” Hermione blushed scarlet as she said this and determinedly avoided Ron's eyes. “What?” said Ron, dropping his pestle with a loud clunk. “He asked me right after he'd pulled me out of the lake.” Hermione muttered. “After he'd got rid of his shark's head. Madam Pomfrey gave us both blankets and then he sort of pulled me away from the judges so they wouldn't hear, and he said, if I wasn't doing anything over the summer, would I like to -” “And what did you say?” said Ron, who had picked up his pestle and was grinding it on the desk, a good six inches from his bowl, because he was looking at Hermione. “And he did say he'd never felt the same way about anyone else,” Hermione went on, going so red now that Harry could almost feel the heat coming from her, “but how could Rita Skeeter have heard him? She wasn't there…or was she? Maybe she has got an Invisibility Cloak; maybe she sneaked onto the grounds to watch the second task.…” “And what did you say?” Ron repeated, pounding his pestle down so hard that it dented the desk. “Well, I was too busy seeing whether you and Harry were okay to -” “Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is. Miss Granger,” said an icy voice right behind them, and all three of them jumped, “I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor.” Snape had glided over to their desk while they were talking. The whole class was now looking around at them; Malfoy took the opportunity to flash POTTER STINKS across the dungeon at Harry. “Ah…reading magazines under the table as well?” Snape added, snatching up the copy of Witch Weekly. “A further ten points from Gryffindor…oh but of course…” Snape's black eyes glittered as they fell on Rita Skeeter's article. “Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings.…” The dungeon rang with the Slytherins’ laughter, and an unpleasant smile curled Snape's thin mouth. To Harry's fury, he began to read the article aloud. “'Harry Potter's Secret Heartache…dear, dear. Potter, what's ailing you now? ‘A boy like no other, perhaps…'” Harry could feel his face burning. Snape was pausing at the end of every sentence to allow the Slytherins a hearty laugh. The article sounded ten times worse when read by Snape. Even Hermione was blushing scarlet now. “'…Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate.’ How very touching,” sneered Snape, rolling up the magazine to continued gales of laughter from the Slytherins. “Well, I think I had better separate the three of you, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than on your tangled love lives. Weasley, you stay here. Miss Granger, over there, beside Miss Parkinson. Potter - that table in front of my desk. Move. Now.” Furious, Harry threw his ingredients and his bag into his cauldron and dragged it up to the front of the dungeon to the empty table. Snape followed, sat down at his desk and watched Harry unload his cauldron. Determined not to look at Snape, Harry resumed the mashing of his scarab beetles, imagining each one to have Snape's face. “All this press attention seems to have inflated your already over-large head. Potter,” said Snape quietly, once the rest of the class had settled down again. Harry didn't answer. He knew Snape was trying to provoke him; he had done this before. No doubt he was hoping for an excuse to take a round fifty points from Gryffindor before the end of the class. “You might be laboring under the delusion that the entire wizarding world is impressed with you,” Snape went on, so quietly that no one else could hear him (Harry continued to pound his scarab beetles, even though he had already reduced them to a very fine powder), “but I don't care how many times your picture appears in the papers. To me. Potter, you are nothing but a nasty little boy who considers rules to be beneath him.” Harry tipped the powdered beetles into his cauldron and started cutting up his ginger roots. His hands were shaking slightly out of anger, but he kept his eyes down, as though he couldn't hear what Snape was saying to him. “So I give you fair warning, Potter,” Snape continued in a sorter and more dangerous voice, “pint-sized celebrity or not - if I catch you breaking into my office one more time -” “I haven't been anywhere near your office!” said Harry angrily, forgetting his feigned deafness. “Don't lie to me,” Snape hissed, his fathomless black eyes boring into Harry's. “Boomslang skin. Gillyweed. Both come from my private stores, and I know who stole them.” Harry stared back at Snape, determined not to blink or to look guilty. In truth, he hadn't stolen either of these things from Snape. Hermione had taken the boomslang skin back in their second year - they had needed it for the Polyjuice Potion - and while Snape had suspected Harry at the time, he had never been able to prove it. Dobby, of course, had stolen the gillyweed. “I don't know what you're talking about,” Harry lied coldly. “You were out of bed on the night my office was broken into!” Snape hissed. “I know it. Potter! Now, Mad-Eye Moody might have joined your fan club, but I will not tolerate your behavior! One more nighttime stroll into my office, Potter, and you will pay!” “Right,” said Harry coolly, turning back to his ginger roots. “I'll bear that in mind if I ever get the urge to go in there.” Snape's eyes flashed. He plunged a hand into the inside of his black robes. For one wild moment. Harry thought Snape was about to pull out his wand and curse him - then he saw that Snape had drawn out a small crystal bottle of a completely clear potion. Harry stared at it. “Do you know what this is. Potter?” Snape said, his eyes glittering dangerously again. “No,” said Harry, with complete honesty this time. “It is Veritaserum - a Truth Potion so powerful that three drops would have you spilling your innermost secrets for this entire class to hear,” said Snape viciously. “Now, the use of this potion is controlled by very strict Ministry guidelines. But unless you watch your step, you might just find that my hand slips” - he shook the crystal bottle slightly - “right over your evening pumpkin juice. And then. Potter…then we'll find out whether you've been in my office or not.” Harry said nothing. He turned back to his ginger roots once more, picked up his knife, and started slicing them again. He didn't like the sound of that Truth Potion at all, nor would he put it past Snape to slip him some. He repressed a shudder at the thought of what might come spilling out of his mouth if Snape did it…quite apart from landing a whole lot of people in trouble - Hermione and Dobby for a start - there were all the other things he was concealing…like the fact that he was in contact with Sirius…and - his insides squirmed at the thought - how he felt about Cho.…He tipped his ginger roots into the cauldron too, and wondered whether he ought to take a leaf out of Moody's book and start drinking only from a private hip flask. There was a knock on the dungeon door. “Enter,” said Snape in his usual voice. The class looked around as the door opened. Professor Karkaroff came in. Everyone watched him as he walked up toward Snape's desk. He was twisting his finger around his goatee and looking agitated. “We need to talk,” said Karkaroff abruptly when he had reached Snape. He seemed so determined that nobody should hear what he was saying that he was barely opening his lips; it was as though he were a rather poor ventriloquist. Harry kept his eyes on his ginger roots, listening hard. “I'll talk to you after my lesson, Karkaroff,” Snape muttered, but Karkaroff interrupted him. “I want to talk now, while you can't slip off, Severus. You've been avoiding me.” “After the lesson,” Snape snapped. Under the pretext of holding up a measuring cup to see if he'd poured out enough armadillo bile, Harry sneaked a sidelong glance at the pair of them. Karkaroff looked extremely worried, and Snape looked angry. Karkaroff hovered behind Snape's desk for the rest of the double period. He seemed intent on preventing Snape from slipping away at the end of class. Keen to hear what Karkaroff wanted to say, Harry deliberately knocked over his bottle of armadillo bile with two minutes to go to the bell, which gave him an excuse to duck down behind his cauldron and mop up while the rest of the class moved noisily toward the door. “What's so urgent?” he heard Snape hiss at Karkaroff. “This,” said Karkaroff, and Harry, peering around the edge of his cauldron, saw Karkaroff pull up the left-hand sleeve of his robe and show Snape something on his inner forearm. “Well?” said Karkaroff, still making every effort not to move his lips. “Do you see? It's never been this clear, never since -” “Put it away!” snarled Snape, his black eyes sweeping the classroom. “But you must have noticed -” Karkaroff began in an agitated voice. “We can talk later, Karkaroff!” spat Snape. “Potter! What are you doing?” “Clearing up my armadillo bile, Professor,” said Harry innocently, straightening up and showing Snape the sodden rag he was holding. Karkaroff turned on his heel and strode out of the dungeon. He looked both worried and angry. Not wanting to remain alone with an exceptionally angry Snape, Harry threw his books and ingredients back into his bag and left at top speed to tell Ron and Hermione what he had just witnessed. * * * * * * They left the castle at noon the next day to find a weak silver sun shining down upon the grounds. The weather was milder than it had been all year, and by the time they arrived in Hogsmeade, all three of them had taken off their cloaks and thrown them over their shoulders. The food Sirius had told them to bring was in Harry's bag; they had sneaked a dozen chicken legs, a loaf of bread, and a flask of pumpkin juice from the lunch table. They went into Gladrags Wizardwear to buy a present for Dobby, where they had fun selecting the most lurid socks they could find, including a pair patterned with flashing gold and silver stars, and another that screamed loudly when they became too smelly. Then, at half past one, they made their way up the High Street, past Dervish and Banges, and out toward the edge of the village. Harry had never been in this direction before. The winding lane was leading them out into the wild countryside around Hogsmeade. The cottages were fewer here, and their gardens larger; they were walking toward the foot of the mountain in whose shadow Hogsmeade lay. Then they turned a corner and saw a stile at the end of the lane. Waiting for them, its front paws on the topmost bar, was a very large, shaggy black dog, which was carrying some newspapers in its mouth and looking very familiar.… “Hello, Sirius,” said Harry when they had reached him. The black dog sniffed Harry's bag eagerly, wagged its tail once, then turned and began to trot away from them across the scrubby patch of ground that rose to meet the rocky foot of the mountain. Harry, Ron, and Hermione climbed over the stile and followed. Sirius led them to the very foot of the mountain, where the ground was covered with boulders and rocks. It was easy for him, with his four paws, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione were soon out of breath. They followed Sirius higher, up onto the mountain itself. For nearly half an hour they climbed a steep, winding, and stony path, following Sirius's wagging tail, sweating in the sun, the shoulder straps of Harry's bag cutting into his shoulders. Then, at last, Sirius slipped out of sight, and when they reached the place where he had vanished, they saw a narrow fissure in the rock. They squeezed into it and found themselves in a cool, dimly lit cave. Tethered at the end of it, one end of his rope around a large rock, was Buckbeak the hippogriff. Half gray horse, half giant eagle, Buckbeak's fierce orange eye flashed at the sight of them. All three of them bowed low to him, and after regarding them imperiously for a moment, Buckbeak bent his scaly front knees and allowed Hermione to rush forward and stroke his feathery neck. Harry, however, was looking at the black dog, which had just turned into his godfather. Sirius was wearing ragged gray robes; the same ones he had been wearing when he had left Azkaban. His black hair was longer than it had been when he had appeared in the fire, and it was untidy and matted once more. He looked very thin. “Chicken!” he said hoarsely after removing the old Daily Prophets from his mouth and throwing them down onto the cave floor. Harry pulled open his bag and handed over the bundle of chicken legs and bread. “Thanks,” said Sirius, opening it, grabbing a drumstick, sitting down on the cave floor, and tearing off a large chunk with his teeth. “I've been living off rats mostly. Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself.” He grinned up at Harry, but Harry returned the grin only reluctantly. “What're you doing here, Sirius?” he said. “Fulfilling my duty as godfather,” said Sirius, gnawing on the chicken bone in a very doglike way. “Don't worry about it, I'm pretending to be a lovable stray.” He was still grinning, but seeing the anxiety in Harry's face, said more seriously, “I want to be on the spot. Your last letter…well, let's just say things are getting fishier. I've been stealing the paper every time someone throws one out, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's getting worried.” He nodded at the yellowing Daily Prophets on the cave floor, and Ron picked them up and unfolded them. Harry, however, continued to stare at Sirius. “What if they catch you? What if you're seen?” “You three and Dumbledore are the only ones around here who know I'm an Animagus,” said Sirius, shrugging, and continuing to devour the chicken leg. Ron nudged Harry and passed him the Daily Prophets. There were two: The first bore the headline Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch, the second, Ministry Witch Still Missing - Minister of Magic Now Personally Involved. Harry scanned the story about Crouch. Phrases jumped out at him: hasn't been seen in public since November…house appears deserted…St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries decline comment…Ministry refuses to confirm rumors of critical illness.… “They're making it sound like he's dying,” said Harry slowly. “But he can't be that ill if he managed to get up here.…” “My brothers Crouch's personal assistant,” Ron informed Sirius. “He says Crouch is suffering from overwork.” “Mind you, he did look ill, last time I saw him up close,” said Harry slowly, still reading the story. “The night my name came out of the goblet.…” “Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?” said Hermione, an edge to her voice. She was stroking Buckbeak, who was crunching up Sirius's chicken bones. “I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now - bet he feels the difference now she's not there to look after him.” “Hermione's obsessed with house-elfs,” Ron muttered to Sirius, casting Hermione a dark look. Sirius, however, looked interested. “Crouch sacked his house-elf?” “Yeah, at the Quidditch World Cup,” said Harry, and he launched into the story of the Dark Mark's appearance, and Winky being found with Harry's wand clutched in her hand, and Mr. Crouch's fury. When Harry had finished, Sirius was on his feet again and had started pacing up and down the cave. “Let me get this straight,” he said after a while, brandishing a fresh chicken leg. “You first saw the elfin the Top Box. She was saving Crouch a seat, right?” “Right,” said Harry, Ron, and Hermione together. “But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?” “No,” said Harry. “I think he said he'd been too busy.” Sirius paced all around the cave in silence. Then he said, “Harry, did you check your pockets for your wand after you'd left the Top Box?” “Erm…” Harry thought hard. “No,” he said finally. “I didn't need to use it before we got in the forest. And then I put my hand in my pocket, and all that was in there were my Omnioculars.” He stared at Sirius. “Are you saying whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand in the Top Box?” “It's possible,” said Sirius. “Winky didn't steal that wand!” Hermione insisted. “The elf wasn't the only one in that box,” said Sirius, his brow furrowed as he continued to pace. “Who else was sitting behind you?” “Loads of people,” said Harry. “Some Bulgarian ministers…Cornelius Fudge…the Malfoys…” “The Malfoys!” said Ron suddenly, so loudly that his voice echoed all around the cave, and Buckbeak tossed his head nervously. “I bet it was Lucius Malfoy!” “Anyone else?” said Sirius. “No one,” said Harry. “Yes, there was, there was Ludo Bagman,” Hermione reminded him. “Oh yeah…” “I don't know anything about Bagman except that he used to be Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps,” said Sirius, still pacing. “What's he like?” “He's okay,” said Harry. “He keeps offering to help me with the Triwizard Tournament.” “Does he, now?” said Sirius, frowning more deeply. “I wonder why he'd do that?” “Says he's taken a liking to me,” said Harry. “Hmm,” said Sirius, looking thoughtful. “We saw him in the forest just before the Dark Mark appeared,” Hermione told Sirius. “Remember?” she said to Harry and Ron. “Yeah, but he didn't stay in the forest, did he?” said Ron. “The moment we told him about the riot, he went off to the campsite.” “How d'you know?” Hermione shot back. “How d'you know where he Disapparated to?” “Come off it,” said Ron incredulously. “Are you saying you reckon Ludo Bagman conjured the Dark Mark?” “It's more likely he did it than Winky,” said Hermione stubbornly. “Told you,” said Ron, looking meaningfully at Sirius, “told you she's obsessed with house -” But Sirius held up a hand to silence Ron. “When the Dark Mark had been conjured, and the elf had been discovered holding Harry's wand, what did Crouch do?” “Went to look in the bushes,” said Harry, “but there wasn't anyone else there.” “Of course,” Sirius muttered, pacing up and down, “of course, he'd want to pin it on anyone but his own elf…and then he sacked her?” “Yes,” said Hermione in a heated voice, “he sacked her, just because she hadn't stayed in her tent and let herself get trampled -” “Hermione, will you give it a rest with the elf!” said Ron. Sirius shook his head and said, “She's got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a mans like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.” He ran a hand over his unshaven face, evidently thinking hard. “All these absences of Barty Crouch's…he goes to the trouble of making sure his house-elf saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn't bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that too.…It's not like Crouch. If he's ever taken a day off work because of illness before this, I'll eat Buckbeak.” “D'you know Crouch, then?” said Harry. Sirius's face darkened. He suddenly looked as menacing as he had the night when Harry first met him, the night when Harry still believed Sirius to be a murderer. “Oh I know Crouch all right,” he said quietly. “He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban - without a trial.” “What?” said Ron and Hermione together. “You're kidding!” said Harry. “No, I'm not,” said Sirius, taking another great bite of chicken. “Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know?” Harry, Ron, and Hermione shook their heads. “He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic,” said Sirius. “He's a great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully magical - and power-hungry. Oh never a Voldemort supporter,” he said, reading the look on Harry's face. “No, Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side. But then a lot of people who were against the Dark Side…well, you wouldn't understand…you're too young.…” “That's what my dad said at the World Cup,” said Ron, with a trace of irritation in his voice. “Try us, why don't you?” A grin flashed across Sirius's thin face. “All right, I'll try you.…” He walked once up the cave, back again, and then said, “Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, and your family, and your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing…the Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don't know what to do, they're trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere…panic…confusion…that's how it used to be. “Well, times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others. Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning - I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers - powers to kill rather than capture, for instance. And I wasn't the only one who was handed straight to the dementors without trial. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side. He had his supporters, mind you - plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened.…” Sirius smiled grimly. “Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power.” “Crouch's son was caught?” gasped Hermione. “Yep,” said Sirius, throwing his chicken bone to Buckbeak, flinging himself back down on the ground beside the loaf of bread, and tearing it in half. “Nasty little shock for old Barty, I'd I magine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn't he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while…gotten to know his own son.” He began to wolf down large pieces of bread. “Was his son a Death Eater?” said Harry. “No idea,” said Sirius, still stuffing down bread. “I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I've found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters - but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf.” “Did Crouch try and get his son off?” Hermione whispered. Sirius let out a laugh that was much more like a bark. “Crouch let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione! Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted house-elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark again - doesn't that tell you what he's like? Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn't much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy…then he sent him straight to Azkaban.” “He gave his own son to the dementors?” asked Harry quietly. “That's right,” said Sirius, and he didn't look remotely amused now. “I saw the dementors bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can't have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though…they all went quiet in the end…except when they shrieked in their sleep.…” For a moment, the deadened look in Sirius's eyes became more pronounced than ever, as though shutters had closed behind them. “So he's still in Azkaban?” Harry said. “No,” said Sirius dully. “No, he's not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in.” “He died?” “He wasn't the only one,” said Sirius bitterly. “Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the dementors could sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it.” Sirius threw aside the bread he had just lifted to his mouth and instead picked up the flask of pumpkin juice and drained it. “So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made,” he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic…next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonored, and, so I've heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation.” There was a long silence. Harry was thinking of the way Crouch's eyes had bulged as he'd looked down at his disobedient house-elf back in the wood at the Quidditch World Cup. This, then, must have been why Crouch had overreacted to Winky being found beneath the Dark Mark. It had brought back memories of his son, and the old scandal, and his fall from grace at the Ministry. “Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards,” Harry told Sirius. “Yeah, I've heard it's become a bit of a mania with him,” said Sirius, nodding. “If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater.” “And he sneaked up here to search Snape's office!” said Ron triumphantly, looking at Hermione. “Yes, and that doesn't make sense at all,” said Sirius. “Yeah, it does!” said Ron excitedly, but Sirius shook his head. “Listen, if Crouch wants to investigate Snape, why hasn't he been coming to judge the tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts and keep an eye on him.” “So you think Snape could be up to something, then?” asked Harry, but Hermione broke in. “Look, I don't care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape -” “Oh give it a rest, Hermione,” said Ron impatiently. “I know Dumbledores brilliant and everything, but that doesn't mean a really clever Dark wizard couldn't fool him -” “Why did Snape save Harry's life in the first year, then? Why didn't he just let him die?” “I dunno - maybe he thought Dumbledore would kick him out-” “What d'you think, Sirius?” Harry said loudly, and Ron and Hermione stopped bickering to listen. “I think they've both got a point,” said Sirius, looking thoughtfully at Ron and Hermione. “Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was,” Sirius added, and Harry and Ron grinned at each other. “Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters.” Sirius held up his fingers and began ticking off names. “Rosier and Wilkes - they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges - they're a married couple - they're in Azkaban. Avery - from what I've heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he'd been acting under the Imperius Curse - he's still at large. But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater - not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble.” “Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet,” said Ron. “Yeah, you should've seen Snape's face when Karkaroff turned up in Potions yesterday!” said Harry quickly. “Karkaroff wanted to talk to Snape, he says Snape's been avoiding him. Karkaroff looked really worried. He showed Snape something on his arm, but I couldn't see what it was.” He showed Snape something on his arm?” said Sirius, looking frankly bewildered. He ran his fingers distractedly through his filthy hair, then shrugged again. “Well, I've no idea what that's about…but if Karkaroff's genuinely worried, and he's going to Snape for answers…” Sirius stared at the cave wall, then made a grimace of frustration. “There's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn't, but I just can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort.” “Why are Moody and Crouch so keen to get into Snape's office then?” said Ron stubbornly. “Well,” said Sirius slowly, “I wouldn't put it past Mad-Eye to have searched every single teacher's office when he got to Hogwarts. He takes his Defense Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody. I'm not sure he trusts anyone at all, and after the things he's seen, it's not surprising. I'll say this for Moody, though, he never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough, but he never descended to the level of the Death Eaters. Crouch, though…he's a different matter…is he really ill? If he is, why did he make the effort to drag himself up to Snape's office? And if he's not…what's he up to? What was he doing at the World Cup that was so important he didn't turn up in the Top Box? What's he been doing while he should have been judging the tournament?” Sirius lapsed into silence, still staring at the cave wall. Buckbeak was ferreting around on the rocky floor, looking for bones he might have overlooked. Finally, Sirius looked up at Ron. “You say your brother's Crouch's personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?” “I can try,” said Ron doubtfully. “Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Percy loves Crouch.” “And you might try and find out whether they've got any leads on Bertha Jorkins while you're at it,” said Sirius, gesturing to the second copy of the Daily Prophet. “Bagman told me they hadn't,” said Harry. “Yes, he's quoted in the article in there,” said Sirius, nodding at the paper. “Blustering on about how bad Bertha's memory is. Well, maybe she's changed since I knew her, but the Bertha I knew wasn't forgetful at all - quite the reverse. She was a bit dim, but she had an excellent memory for gossip. It used to get her into a lot of trouble; she never knew when to keep her mouth shut. I can see her being a bit of a liability at the Ministry of Magic…maybe that's why Bagman didn't bother to look for her for so long.…” Sirius heaved an enormous sigh and rubbed his shadowed eyes. “What's the time?” Harry checked his watch, then remembered it hadn't been working since it had spent over an hour in the lake. “It's half past three,” said Hermione. “You'd better get back to school,” Sirius said, getting to his feet. “Now listen…” He looked particularly hard at Harry. “I don't want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you.” “No one's tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a couple of grindylows,” Harry said, but Sirius scowled at him. “I don't care…I'll breathe freely again when this tournament's over, and that's not until June. And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?” He handed Harry the empty napkin and flask and went to pat Buckbeak good-bye. “I'll walk to the edge of the village with you,” said Sirius, “see if I can scrounge another paper.” He transformed into the great black dog before they left the cave, and they walked back down the mountainside with him, across the boulder-strewn ground, and back to the stile. Here he allowed each of them to pat him on the head, before turning and setting off at a run around the outskirts of the village. Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way back into Hogsmeade and up toward Hogwarts. “Wonder if Percy knows all that stuff about Crouch?” Ron said as they walked up the drive to the castle. “But maybe he doesn't care…It'd probably just make him admire Crouch even more. Yeah, Percy loves rules. He'd just say Crouch was refusing to break them for his own son.” “Percy would never throw any of his family to the dementors,” said Hermione severely. “I don't know,” said Ron. “If he thought we were standing in the way of his career…Percy's really ambitious, you know.…” They walked up the stone steps into the entrance hall, where the delicious smells of dinner wafted toward them from the Great Hall. “Poor old Snuffles,” said Ron, breathing deeply. “He must really like you. Harry.…Imagine having to live off rats.” 第二七章 赴约 第二件任务之后每个人都争着想知道在湖底发生的一切。这样罗恩就要抢了哈利被公众注目的份儿了。哈利发现罗恩对事情的重述中略微地改变了。一开始，他好像还是在讲事情的真相；一个星期过后，罗恩却在讲一个可怕的拐骗案，说他如何单熗匹马对付那五十个装备精良而且准备打到他屈服并把他绑起来的人。 “但我把我的魔杖藏在袖子里。”他使帕得玛。帕提相信他。帕得玛。帕提显得更被吸引住了。罗恩每过一个走廊都会强调一下他要讲的内容，“我随时可以干掉那帮海底傻瓜。” “那你那时打算怎么做，对他们打鼾吗？”荷米恩尖刻地说。因为人们取笑她说她是维特。克伦最想念的人，她变得格外易怒。 罗恩的耳根都红了。于是他又描述了一遍被弄晕睡过去的情景。 随着三月的到来，天气变得更干燥了，每当哈利他们出去时，刺骨的寒风刮着他们的手和脸。这种天气使通讯上有点耽搁，因为猫头鹰不停地被风吹偏离跑线。这只棕色的猫头鹰是带着哈利发给西里斯的信。哈利想告诉他霍格瓦彻的会议要在星期五早晨的早餐上举行。猫头鹰的羽毛乱七竖八地立着。哈利一见到西里斯的回复就赶紧拿下来，生恐猫头鹰会把它又带走。 西里斯的信几乎跟先前的一样短：“星期六下午两点在霍格瓦彻外面路尽头阶梯见。尽量多带食物。” “他还没回霍格瓦彻？”罗恩将信将疑地说。 “看来是的，不是吗？”荷米恩说。 “我不相信，”哈利紧张地说，“如果他已经抓了……” “到现在这田地只好相信了。”罗恩说，“那里也不再像是聚集得蒙特的地方了。” 哈利把信叠好，思考着。如果他是诚恳的，他应该想再见西里斯一次。因此他开始了下午的最后一课——生物药脂学。当他走下地牢的阶梯时他觉得比平时更轻快。 下午最后一节课上课前马尔夫、克来伯和高尔以及史林德林女孩聚集在教室门口。他们全都在看着一样哈利看不出来的东西。当哈利、罗恩和荷米思进来时，班西那哈巴狗似的脸正在凝视在高尔那平定的大脸上。 “他们来了，他们来了！”她格格地笑，史林德林那群人散开了。 哈利见到班西手里拿着本杂志——《美女周刊》。封面上画着一位手里拿着魔杖的卷发的迷人女孩正对着一个大蛋糕露齿笑着。 “在这儿你可以发现一些有趣的东西，格林佐！”班西大声唤，并把杂志扔给荷米恩。荷米恩接住杂志，吃惊地看着她。就在那时，地牢的门开了，招他们进来。 荷米恩、哈利和罗恩像往常一样朝着地牢后面的桌子走过去。 当史纳皮一转身在黑板上写今天学的那剂药的配方时，荷米恩迅速地在桌子底下创览了一下杂志。最后，在杂志中间，荷米恩发现了他们要找的文章。哈利和罗恩靠上来。在一张哈利的彩图上标着“哈利-波特秘密的头疼”。上面是这样写着的：与众不同的一个男孩，也许是吧；但是，这个男孩承受着青年人所承受的一切烦恼——理特。史姬特这么写道——自从一场不幸夺去了他的父母，十四岁的哈利就被夺去了被爱的权利。他想他可以从亲密的女友——一个来自霍格瓦彻的农家女孩的安慰。然而他没意识到他将会经受生命中另外一次感情的打击——所爱被夺。 格林佐小组，一个相貌平平，但野心勃勃的女孩，好像钟情于那些出色的奇才，然而哈利却不是。自从维持。克伦——保加利亚籍，快迪斯世界杯比赛的最后一个英雄——来到霍格瓦彻，格林佐小姐就开始玩弄两个男孩的爱情。克伦这个公然与迷途的格林佐小姐厮磨的男孩，已经向她发出邀请访她去保加利亚度暑假，而且声称他从未与另一个女孩感受到如此的炽热的爱。 可能不是格林佐小姐那值得怀疑的自然之美吸引住这两个不幸的男孩。 “她真丑，”班西啪金森，一个十四岁的漂亮活泼的学生说，“但她有足够的本事制爱情药，她有脑筋，我想她现在就这么做着。” 爱情药在霍格瓦彻当然是禁止的，但艾伯斯。丹伯多无疑想研究并得专利。这时，哈利-波特的祝福者一定希望下一次他将他的心放在一个更加值得的人身上了。 “我告诉过你！”罗恩气呼呼地对荷米恩说，“我告诉你别去惹怒理特。史姬特！她会把你变成一个荡妇的！” 荷米恩当时正在看那篇文章，她抬眼一看他，有点惊讶，然后轻蔑地笑。 “荡妇？”她复述着，她回头看了罗恩，尽量忍住格格的笑。 “我妈妈这样称呼她们。”罗恩咕哝着，耳根又红透了。 “如果那是理特能做的，她肯定失去理智了。”荷米恩仍笑着说。 “一堆垃圾！”她把那本美女周刊扔在一张空的桌子上面。 她看看史林德林那群人，他们正在看她。这时哈利悄悄地走到这边看他们是否被那篇文章弄得不开心了。荷米恩朝他摆摆手、讽刺地笑了笑，然后和哈利、罗恩一起取出他们要做清醒药的配料。 “倒还真有点可笑，”十分钟后荷米恩说，“理特。史姬特是怎么知道的……？” “知道啥？”罗恩快言快语，“你还没配好爱情药，不是吗？” “别犯傻了，”荷米恩打断他的话，开始把甲虫捣烂，“不是的，只是，她怎么知道维特叫我夏天去拜访他？” 荷米恩这样说时脸都红窘了，她决意避开罗恩的眼神。 “什么？“铿锵一声，罗恩的杵掉在地上。 “他一把我拖出湖面就问我，”荷米恩低声说，“当他逃离鲨鱼的虎口，波姆弗雷夫人给我们两张毯子，他就拉我到一处以便大家都听不见的地方，他就问我如果我这个暑假没啥好干，我是否愿意去……” “你怎么回答？”罗恩紧张地问，他捡起杵子，在离碗六英寸远的桌上捣呀磨呀，眼睛一刻也没离开过荷米恩。 “他说从来没有一个女孩让他心跳如此狂烈，”荷米恩脸红得如此厉害以致哈利都感到她发出的热气。“但理特。史姬特怎么听到的呢？她又不在场，难道……？也许她有一件隐形篷衣，或者她溜到地牢里看第二项任务……” “那你说什么了？”罗恩再问一遍，他那么大力地辗着桌子以致桌子都凹下去了。 “得了，我太忙于照料你和哈利，我不能……” “你的社交毫无疑问是——荒诞，格林佐小姐”，一个冰冷的声音从后面传来，“我必须要求你不要在我们课上讨论这样的话题，扣十分。” 史纳皮已经走到他们那儿了。这时整个班的人都盯着他们看。 马尔夫有机会拿波特斯丁在哈利面前炫耀了。 “啊，还在桌底下看杂志喔？”史纳皮一把抓过美女周刊，“哼，得再扣十分……幄，当然……”史纲皮的黑眼睛看到理特。史姬特的文章时突然一亮，“波特得跟上他受伤的心…… 地牢里回荡着史林德林那群人的哄笑，史纳皮先生薄薄的嘴皮露出一个不满的微笑。为了激怒哈利，他开始大声朗读。 “《哈利-波特的秘密头疼》——噢，亲爱的，什么使你这样疼呀？——一个与众不同的男孩，也许……” 哈利感到他的脸火辣辣地烧着。史纳皮每读完一句就停一下，那些史林德林就拼命地笑。这篇文章让史纳皮读真是难听十倍。 “哈利-波特的祝福者一定希望，下一次他会把他的心放在一个更值得的人身上。”“真感人！”史纳皮先生轻蔑地笑，把杂志卷起来。 “好，我想我最好分开你们三个人以便你们能抛开三角恋爱集中精神听我的课。威斯里，你就留在那儿，格林佐小姐，你去帕金森小姐旁边。波特，到我前面的桌子，现在换位。” 哈利把他的配料和书包气冲冲地扔进他的大汽锅里，把它拖到地牢前面的空桌子。史纳皮跟着他，坐在自己的桌子上看着哈利把锅里的东西拿出来。哈利决定不看史纳皮，把甲虫都当作史纳皮的脸研磨成糊状。 当其他同学安静下来的时候，史纳皮说：“所有的这些压力使你那原本已过大的脑袋膨胀了。” 哈利不应声。他知道史纳皮又在挑衅，他以前就这样做过。毫无疑问是在找茬。让他在课结束之前扣五十分。 “你在妄想着整个男巫世界都在你的控制之下，”史纳皮继续说。 他说得很小声，没有旁人听得见(哈利也继续磨他的甲虫，他已经磨得不能再碎了)。“但我不管你在杂志上登过多少照片，对于我来说，你只不过是一个令人作呕的毛孩，老想把戒律抛之不理。” 哈利把甲虫粉倒进锅里并开始切姜。出于愤怒，他的手微微发抖，但他坚持眼皮也不抬一下，好像没听见史纳皮在对他说。 “不是我不警告你，波特，”史纳皮用一种更温柔更危险的声音说道，“小而无价值的庆祝或者——如果让我抓住你企图再闯进我的办公室——” “我从来不靠近你的办公室！”哈利吼道，忘了他刚才还在装聋。 “你瞒不过我，”史纳皮哼了一下，他那毫无深度的呆眼盯着哈利，“我知道是谁偷的！” 哈利瞪回史纳皮，眼睛决意不眨，好像不怕被责备一样。事实上，他两样东西都没偷。荷米恩在二年级时拿走了史纳皮那张有咒语的皮，因为他们要用它制烦恼药。史纳皮一直怀疑哈利，但无法证实。而另外一样是多比偷的。 “我压根儿不知道你在说什么。”哈利冷冷地说。 “我办公室被盗那天你正好不在床上！我就晓得是你！现在魔眼莫迪可能加入你们那伙人，但我不会再忍受你的行为！再敢闯进我的办公室，我就收拾你！” “好的，”哈利冷冷地说完转身切他的姜，“如果有必要去你那里，我会好好地记住你的话的。” 史纳皮眼红了一下，他把手插进他的黑袍里。僵持了一下，哈利猜史纳皮要抽出他的魔杖来咒他——但史纳皮拿出一个装着清澈透明药剂的水晶小瓶。哈利盯着瓶子。 “知道这是用来干嘛的吗？”史纳皮的眼里闪烁着危险的光芒。 “不知道。”这次哈利完全老实地回答。 “这是吃了讲真话的药。只要三滴就能把你最心底的话掏出来讲给全班听。”史纳皮阴恶地说，“虽然这种药严格控制使用，但我还是能用它看你是否真的到我办公室没有。” 哈利不作声。他又低头切他的姜。他一点也不喜欢这种说真话的药，他也决不会让史纳皮灌给他吃。一想到如果史纳皮真让他吃了后果会怎样，他就打了个颤。他把姜丝倒进大锅里，想着要不要撕莫迪书上的一页，然后喝他自己的长颈瓶里的东西。 地牢门给人敲得咯咯响。 “进来。”史纳皮恢复到他正常的声音。 门开时全班都望过去。进来的是卡克罗夫教授。当他径直走向史纳皮的桌子时每个人都望着他。他用手摸着他的山羊胡须，显然他很激动。 “我们要谈一下。”卡克罗夫走到史纳皮处时突然说。他好像决意不让任何人知道他说什么似的，嘴巴几乎没动，看上去就像一个瘪脚的口技表演者。哈利眼虽还看在姜上，耳朵却坚直了听着。 “卡克罗夫，下课后我找你谈。”史纳皮低声说，但卡克罗夫打断了他的话。 “我现在就要谈，你不要再闪避，你老避着我了。” “下课后说。”史纳皮说。 借着举起量杯看是否倒进足够的犰狳胆汁的机会，哈利侧眼掠了一下他们。卡克罗夫显得很忧虑而史纳皮则很气愤。 卡克罗夫留在史纳皮的桌子后面度过这节课剩余的时间。他好像决计要防止史纳皮在课室的尽头溜走。哈利很想知道他们将谈什么，便故意在下课前两分钟打烂装着犹徐胆汁的试管好有借口下课后晚点走。 “什么这么紧急？”他听见史纳皮对卡克罗夫心急地说。 “这个。”卡克罗夫说。 哈利凝视着他的大锅边缘，却能看到卡克罗夫从他的袍子里伸出左手，给史纳皮看一样东西。 “看见了吗？”卡克罗夫仍然尽力闭着嘴说话，“看见了吗？它以前没有这么清澈，自从——” “把它收好！”史纳皮咆哮道，他的黑眼扫了一遍课室。 “但是你一定已经注意到——”卡克罗夫开始焦急。 “我们迟点再说！”史纳皮轻拍了他一下。“波特！你在这儿干什么？” “扫干净那些机徐胆汁，教授。”哈利无辜地说，拿那块湿的抹布给他看。 卡克罗夫又气又担心地离开了。不想与正要发火的史纳皮留在地牢里。哈利把他的书呀，调料呀全塞进包里，最快速度地跑去告诉罗恩和荷米恩他所见到的一切。 第二天中午太阳不是那么猛的时候他们出发赴要西里斯的约会。天气比什么时候都热，所以他们走到霍格瓦彻时，都得把斗篷摘下来了。西里斯叫他们拿的食物全放在哈利的包里；他们从午餐桌上偷了12只鸡，一条面包和一罐南瓜汁。 他们先去格来登。乌特维那里买了份礼物给多比。他们发现在那儿挑袜子挺有趣。他们挑了两对。有一对嵌有一闪一闪的金银星，而还有一对当太臭时会发出尖叫。一点半时，他们经过高街，走向村庄的郊区。 哈利从来没走过这条路。弯曲的小路把他们带到一个荒凉的农村。这里的屋舍更少，每户的花园更大。他们来到山脚下，拐了一个弯，见到小路的尽头有阶梯。一只看上去很脸熟的蓬毛大黑狗半躺在横木上，口里叼着一些报纸。 “嘿，西里斯。”当他们走近它时，哈利打招呼。 这只黑狗急着嗅了嗅哈利的包，摆摆尾，然后转身小跑穿过矮树丛。哈利，罗恩和荷米恩爬上阶梯跟在它后面。 西里斯领着他们跑到山脚下。那里怪石嶙峋。它轻而易举地跑过去了，但哈利、罗恩和荷米恩很快就上气不接下气。他们跟着西里斯爬上山。沿着一条陡峭石路，在西里斯摇摆的尾巴带领下，他们爬了近一个半小时。背包带在哈利的肩上深深地勒出一道痕。 到最后，西里斯消失了。他们在它消失的地方看到一块有裂缝的巨石。他们挤进裂缝里，来到一个凉爽但光线微暗的山洞。那只半像马、半像鸟的鸟嘴巴克的脚用绳拴在一块石头上，眼睛露出锐利的橙色光芒。他们三个弯身向它鞠躬。它傲慢地回应一下之后，过了一会儿，它弯下它多鳞的前脚，允许荷米恩抚摸它的脖子。哈利在看那刚刚变为哈利教父的黑狗。 西里斯穿着破烂的灰袍，那件他离开阿兹克班时穿的灰袍。它的黑毛比以前更长，更胜更乱。它显得瘦了。 “鸡肉！”它一见到鸡肉立刻扔掉报纸嘶哑地叫。 哈利打开背包，递鸡和面包给它。 “谢谢！”西里斯抓起鸡肉撕开，津津有味地吃起来。“我现在以老鼠为生，我知道你们不能偷太多，我会照顾自己的了。” 他冲哈利咧嘴一笑，但哈利勉强地回报它一笑。 “你在这儿都干些什么呢，西里斯？”她问。 “负责完成当教父的责任，”西里斯说，用一种狗的方式啃着鸡腿，“不用担心我，我会尽力做一只讨人爱的流浪狗。” 他仍然咧嘴笑，但见到哈利担心的样子，便忧虑地说：“我想出来，你那封信——，我每看到人们放下一张报纸我就偷走，通过看报纸得知情况。” 它对着地上那张报纸哄哄叫，罗恩捡起来打开看。 哈利仍然很担心，“如果他们抓到你或看到你怎么办？” “附近只有你们三个知道我是西里斯，”西里斯耸耸肩，继续啃它的鸡骨。 罗恩轻碰了一下哈利，把先知日报递给他看。头条是：巴地。克劳斯的怪病；还有一条是：女巫部长下落不明——魔法部长牵涉进内。 哈利读了一下内容。 “他们说克劳斯好像快死了，”哈利慢吞吞地说，“但谁只要来那儿一趟就知道情况并不那么糟糕。” “我哥哥是克劳斯的助理，”罗恩告诉西里斯，“他说克劳斯快忙昏了。” “我才不在乎呢！”荷米恩冷淡地说。 “荷米恩好像被精灵萦绕。”罗恩对西里斯低声说，并看了一眼荷米恩。 西里斯却显得感兴趣。 “你第一次看到精灵是在快迪斯世界杯上，她帮克劳斯占了一个座，对不？” “对。”哈利、罗恩和荷米恩异口同声地说。 “但克劳斯没出现在那场比赛上。他可能太忙了。” 西里斯一声不哼地在洞里踱来踱去。“哈利，你离开快迪斯之后有没有发现你的魔杖正在口袋里？” “嗯……”哈利使劲地想，“没有，”他最终想起，“我们去森林之前不会用它。当时我把手放进口袋里，口袋里除了欧米卡尔斯啥也没有了。你的意思是有人变魔法把我的魔杖拿走了？” “很可能。”西里斯说。 “温奇没有偷你的魔杖！”荷米恩尖声说。 “精灵并不在那盒子里头，当时谁坐在你旁边呢？”西里斯皱了一下眉。 “好多人。保加利亚部长……可尼斯。法治……还有马尔夫……” “肯定是马尔夫！”罗恩突然插嘴，他那么大声以致于他的声音在整个洞里回响，鸟嘴巴克不安地摇摇头。“我打包票是梅尔法！” “还有别的什么人吗？”西里斯问。 “没有了。”哈利答。 “还有露得。巴格蒙。”荷米恩提醒他。 “噢，对……” “我不大认识巴格蒙，只知道他过去曾做过打手。”西里斯还在踱来踱去，“他怎么了？” “还好，”哈利答，“他老想帮我赢男巫比赛。” “是吗？他为什么要那样做呢？”西里斯又皱起眉来。 “他说他喜欢我。”哈利说。 “唔。”西里斯若有所思。 “我们在森林里看见他，就在黑色标记出现之前。”荷米恩告诉西里斯，“记得吗？”她又对哈利和罗恩说。 “是，但他没留在森林里呀！”罗恩说，“我们一告诉他暴乱的事，他就赶回营地。” “你怎么知道？”荷米恩反唇相讥，“你怎么知道他往哪里消失了呢？” “你是在说露得。巴格蒙在用魔法迷惑黑色标记吗？”罗恩不大相信的说。 “巴格蒙比温奇更有可能。”荷米恩固执地说。 罗恩看了看西里斯说：“她给精灵困挠着——” 但西里斯举起一只手不让罗恩说下去，“标记被遮住时，精灵已被发现正拿着哈利的魔杖，这时克劳斯怎么做？” “他去灌木丛里看，但没有其他人在。”哈利说。 “当然，”西里斯低声说，“他想钉住所有的人，除了他自己的精灵……接着他抓住她吗？” “对，”荷米恩火上来了，“他抓住她，只因为她不乖乖地留在帐篷里而出来被人蹂躏。” “荷米恩，拜托你不要再讲精灵的事了。”罗恩说。 但西里斯摇摇头说：“她看克劳斯比你准，罗恩，如果你想知道一个人是啥模样的，只要看他怎么对待地位比他低的人，而不是与他平等的人。”他用手抚摸着没刮胡子的脸，努力地思考着。“克劳斯缺席很多。他让他的精灵帮他占了一个座位看快迪斯世界杯大赛，但他又不出现去看。他很努力让男巫比赛恢复，自己却不去看。这不太像克劳斯，如果他有一天因病请假的话，我就吃了鸟嘴巴克。” “你原来就认识克劳斯吗？”哈利问。 西里斯阴下脸。他突然变得像哈利第一次见到他那时那么险恶，那晚哈利以为他是个杀人犯。 “我认识他，”他缓缓地说：“他就是那个审也不审就把我发配到阿兹克班的人。” “什么？”罗思和荷米思不禁问。 “开玩笑！”哈利说。 “不。”西里斯再咬一大口鸡肉说，“克劳斯曾当过魔法法律执行部门的部长，你们不知道吗？” 哈利、罗恩和荷米恩摇摇头。 “他本来是最有希望当魔法部门的部长的，”西里斯说，“他是个了不起的男巫，魔力无穷而且权欲极强。他不支持福尔得摩特，”他看了一眼哈利的神情，“克劳斯总是公开反对黑势力……你们不会明白的了……你们太年轻……” “我爸在世界杯赛上也这么说。”罗恩露出一丝的苦恼，“为什么不试试告诉我们呢？”西里斯瘦削的脸上露出一笑，“好，试讲给你们听。” 他在洞里走过去，又走回来说：“那时候福尔得摩特当权。你们不知道谁是他的支持者，也不知道谁在帮他工作。你们只知道他能控制人们身不由己的为他服务。你为你自己，你的家人和朋友提心吊胆。每周都有死亡、失踪、虐待……魔法部长手足无措，他们企图瞒住马格，但马格也快死了。过去就是这样，到处充斥着恐怖，惊慌和迷惑。 总是有人活得好，有人却糟透了。克劳斯的原则一开始是好的——我当时并不以为。他很快地晋升为部长，并用严厉的手段打击福尔得摩特的支持者。奥挪士不仅可以逮捕人，他还被授予杀人的权力。我是一大堆还没审判就被押解到得蒙特的当中一个。克劳斯用暴力反抗暴力，对疑犯采取高压手段。我敢说这跟黑势力一样不讲道理和残暴。但他有他的支持者，不管你信不信，很多人认为他干得对，并有一大堆男巫女巫叫喊着让他当魔法部长。当福尔得摩特消失了，克劳斯取得这个职位也只是时间问题罢了。但此时一件不幸的事情发生了……，“西里斯狰狞地笑，”克劳斯的儿子被一群食尸者抓去，很显然，他们以此威胁克劳斯，企图找到福尔得摩特并恢复他的权力。“ “克劳斯的儿子被抓去了？”荷米恩屏住气说。 “嗯。”西里斯把鸡骨扔给鸟嘴巴克，坐到面包旁边，把面包撕成两半。“对克劳斯来说是不小的震惊，我猜。他应该花多一点时间跟儿子在一起，他该早点离开办公室去了解一下他的儿子。” 他狠吞虎咽下一大块一大块面包。 “他儿子是食尸者吗？”哈利问。 “不晓得，”西里斯仍把面包往嘴里塞，“他被关进来的时候我自己已经在阿兹克班了。那个男孩肯定是被那帮食尸者抓去的，但他也可能在不该出现的时候出现了，就像精灵一样。” “克劳斯有试过解救他儿子吗？”荷米恩低声说。 西里斯爆笑一声，确切的来说更像狗吠。“克劳斯放他儿子出来？我以为你比较了解他呢，荷米恩？任何影响他荣誉的东西都得滚开，他一生追求的就是当上魔法部长。你没见到他把一个忠心耿耿的精灵赶走吗？只因那精灵想他与墨马克联系一下，这不说明了他是怎样的人吗？克劳斯给他儿子的爱就是审判他，就算是那样，也是显示一下他有多恨这个孩子……然后他就把他发配到阿兹克班。” “他把儿子交给得蒙特？”哈利轻声地问。 “正是。”西里斯显得冷淡而且不愉快了。“我看见他被带进去了。他至多不超过十九岁。他们把他扔在我旁边的牢房里。夜晚他尖叫着要找他妈妈。过几天后不叫了，但在梦中仍呼喊。” “他现在还在阿兹克班？”哈利问。 “不，”西里斯呆呆地说，“他不在了，一年后死在那儿。” “他死了？” “他不是唯—一个死的，”西里斯幽幽地说，“大多数人都疯了，不少人绝食自杀。他们根本没有活下去的意志了。在那儿随时可以感到死亡的来临。况且那男孩来时已是病恹恹的了。因为克劳斯是一个重要人物，所以他和太太可以见儿子最后一面。那也是我最后一次见克劳斯，他扶着他太太走过我的房间。她后来也死了，很显然是悲痛而死的。克劳斯没去送葬。” 西里斯放下送到嘴边的面包，拿起南瓜汁一饮而尽。 “老克劳斯啥也没有了，他还以为他会得到呢。”手背擦擦嘴，“本来这位英雄是要做魔法部长的，但是，儿子死了，妻子没了，家庭变得玷污了，他的群众信誉就一下子下降了。他儿子一死，人们开始叹息这么好的一个少年怎么会走上迷路。这么一来，人们就得出了一个结论：他父亲不关心他。结果可尼斯斯。法治登上了宝座，克劳斯被踢到国际魔法交流合作部门。” 好长一段时间大家不出声。哈利在回想在树林里，快迪斯世界杯大赛会议，克劳斯瞪着他那不顺从的精灵时的样子。肯定是想起他儿子，他的丑闻以及他不能如意地升迁。 “莫迪说克劳斯在狂找黑色男巫。”哈利告诉西里斯。 “我听说过，但如果他以为自己还能靠抓住一个食尸者就能恢复昨日威风的话，他就错了。” “你哥哥不是克劳斯的助理吗？有机会问问他最近有没见过克劳斯？” “行。”罗恩有点不大肯定地回答。 “好了，三点半了，我们该回去了。” “我送你们一程，顺便再偷张报纸。”西里斯又变回一只大黑狗。 他们沿着原路回去了。 |
Chapter 26 The Second Task “You said you'd already worked out that egg clue!” said Hermione indignantly. “Keep your voice down!” said Harry crossly. “I just need to - sort of fine-tune it, all right?” He, Ron, and Hermione were sitting at the very back of the Charms class with a table to themselves. They were supposed to be practicing the opposite of the Summoning Charm today - the Banishing Charm. Owing to the potential for nasty accidents when objects kept flying across the room. Professor Flitwick had given each student a stack of cushions on which to practice, the theory being that these wouldn't hurt anyone if they went off target. It was a good theory, but it wasn't working very well. Neville's aim was so poor that he kept accidentally sending much heavier things flying across the room - Professor Flitwick, for instance. “Just forget the egg for a minute, all right?” Harry hissed as Professor Flitwick went whizzing resignedly past them, landing on top of a large cabinet. “I'm trying to tell you about Snape and Moody.…” This class was an ideal cover for a private conversation, as everyone was having far too much fun to pay them any attention. Harry had been recounting his adventures of the previous night in whispered installments for the last half hour. “Snape said Moody's searched his office as well?” Ron whispered, his eyes alight with interest as he Banished a cushion with a sweep of his wand (it soared into the air and knocked Parvati's hat off). “What…d'you reckon Moody's here to keep an eye on Snape as well as Karkaroff?” “Well, I dunno if that's what Dumbledore asked him to do, but he's definitely doing it,” said Harry, waving his wand without paying much attention, so that his cushion did an odd sort of belly flop off the desk. “Moody said Dumbledore only lets Snape stay here because he's giving him a second chance or something.…” “What?” said Ron, his eyes widening, his next cushion spinning high into the air, ricocheting off the chandelier, and dropping heavily onto Flitwick's desk. “Harry…maybe Moody thinks Snape put your name in the Goblet of Fire!” “Oh Ron,” said Hermione, shaking her head sceptically, “we thought Snape was trying to kill Harry before, and it turned out he was saving Harry's life, remember?” She Banished a cushion and it flew across the room and landed in the box they were all supposed to be aiming at. Harry looked at Hermione, thinking…it was true that Snape had saved his life once, but the odd thing was, Snape definitely loathed him, just as he'd loathed Harry's father when they had been at school together. Snape loved taking points from Harry, and had certainly never missed an opportunity to give him punishments, or even to suggest that he should be suspended from the school. “I don't care what Moody says,” Hermione went on. “Dumbledore's not stupid. He was right to trust Hagrid and Professor Lupin, even though loads of people wouldn't have given them jobs, so why shouldn't he be right about Snape, even if Snape is a bit -” “- evil,” said Ron promptly. “Come on, Hermione, why are all these Dark wizard catchers searching his office, then?” “Why has Mr. Crouch been pretending to be ill?” said Hermione, ignoring Ron. “Its a bit funny, isn't it, that he cant manage to come to the Yule Ball, but he can get up here in the middle of the night when he wants to?” “You just don't like Crouch because of that elf, Winky,” said Ron, sending a cushion soaring into the window. “You just want to think Snape's up to something,” said Hermione, sending her cushion zooming neatly into the box. “I just want to know what Snape did with his first chance, if he's on his second one,” said Harry grimly, and his cushion, to his very great surprise, flew straight across the room and landed neatly on top of Hermione's. * * * * * * Obedient to Sirius's wish of hearing about anything odd at Hogwarts, Harry sent him a letter by brown owl that night, explaining all about Mr. Crouch breaking into Snape's office, and Moody and Snape's conversation. Then Harry turned his attention in earnest to the most urgent problem facing him: how to survive underwater for an hour on the twenty-fourth of February. Ron quite liked the idea of using the Summoning Charm again - Harry had explained about Aqua-Lungs, and Ron couldn't see why Harry shouldn't Summon one from the nearest Muggle town. Hermione squashed this plan by pointing out that, in the unlikely event that Harry managed to learn how to operate an Aqua-Lung within the set limit of an hour, he was sure to be disqualified for breaking the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy - it was too much to hope that no Muggles would spot an Aqua-Lung zooming across the countryside to Hogwarts. “Of course, the ideal solution would be for you to Transfigure yourself into a submarine or something,” Hermione said. “If only we'd done human Transfiguration already! But I don't think we start that until sixth year, and it can go badly wrong if you don't know what you're doing.…” “Yeah, I don't fancy walking around with a periscope sticking out of my head,” said Harry. “I s'pose I could always attack someone in front of Moody; he might do it for me.…” “I don't think he'd let you choose what you wanted to be turned into, though,” said Hermione seriously. “No, I think your best chance is some sort of charm.” So Harry, thinking that he would soon have had enough of the library to last him a lifetime, buried himself once more among the dusty volumes, looking for any spell that might enable a human to survive without oxygen. However, though he, Ron, and Hermione searched through their lunchtimes, evenings, and whole weekends - though Harry asked Professor McGonagall for a note of permission to use the Restricted Section, and even asked the irritable, vulture-like librarian. Madam Pince, for help - they found nothing whatsoever that would enable Harry to spend an hour underwater and live to tell the tale. Familiar flutterings of panic were starting to disturb Harry now, and he was finding it difficult to concentrate in class again. The lake, which Harry had always taken for granted as just another feature of the grounds, drew his eyes whenever he was near a classroom window, a great, iron-gray mass of chilly water, whose dark and icy depths were starting to seem as distant as the moon. Just as it had before he faced the Horntail, time was slipping away as though somebody had bewitched the clocks to go extra-fast. There was a week to go before February the twenty-fourth (there was still time)…there were five days to go (he was bound to find something soon)…three days to go (please let me find something…please)… With two days left. Harry started to go off food again. The only good thing about breakfast on Monday was the return of the brown owl he had sent to Sirius. He pulled off the parchment, unrolled it, and saw the shortest letter Sirius had ever written to him. Send date of next Hogsmeade weekend by return owl. Harry turned the parchment over and looked at the back, hoping to see something else, but it was blank. “Weekend after next,” whispered Hermione, who had read the note over Harry's shoulder. “Here - take my quill and send this owl back straight away.” Harry scribbled the dates down on the back of Sirius's letter, tied it onto the brown owl's leg, and watched it take flight again. What had he expected? Advice on how to survive underwater? He had been so intent on telling Sirius all about Snape and Moody he had completely forgotten to mention the egg's clue. “What's he want to know about the next Hogsmeade weekend for?” said Ron. “Dunno,” said Harry dully. The momentary happiness that had flared inside him at the sight of the owl had died. “Come on…Care of Magical Creatures.” Whether Hagrid was trying to make up for the Blast-Ended Skrewts, or because there were now only two skrewts left, or because he was trying to prove he could do anything that Professor Grubbly-Plank could. Harry didnt know, but Hagrid had been continuing her lessons on unicorns ever since he'd returned to work. It turned out that Hagrid knew quite as much about unicorns as he did about monsters, though it was clear that he found their lack of poisonous fangs disappointing. Today he had managed to capture two unicorn foals. Unlike full-grown unicorns, they were pure gold. Parvati and Lavender went into transports of delight at the sight of them, and even Pansy Parkinson had to work hard to conceal how much she liked them. “Easier ter spot than the adults,” Hagrid told the class. “They turn silver when they're abou’ two years old, an’ they grow horns at aroun four. Don’ go pure white till they're full grown, ‘round about seven. They're a bit more trustin’ when they're babies…don’ mind boys so much.…C'mon, move in a bit, yeh can pat ‘em if yeh want…give ‘em a few o’ these sugar lumps.… “You okay. Harry?” Hagrid muttered, moving aside slightly, while most of the others swarmed around the baby unicorns. “Yeah,” said Harry. “Jus’ nervous, eh?” said Hagrid. “Bit,” said Harry. “Harry,” said Hagrid, clapping a massive hand on his shoulder, so that Harry's knees buckled under its weight, “I'd've bin worried before I saw yeh take on tha Horntail, but I know now yeh can do anythin’ yeh set yer mind ter. I'm not worried at all. Yeh're goin ter be fine. Got yer clue worked out, haven’ yeh?” Harry nodded, but even as he did so, an insane urge to confess that he didn't have any idea how to survive at the bottom of the lake for an hour came over him. He looked up at Hagrid - perhaps he had to go into the lake sometimes, to deal with the creatures in it? He looked after everything else on the grounds, after all - “Yeh're goin’ ter win,” Hagrid growled, patting Harry's shoulder again, so that Harry actually felt himself sink a couple of inches into the soft ground. “I know it. I can feel it. Yeh're goin’ ter win, Harry.” Harry just couldn't bring himself to wipe the happy, confident smile off Hagrid's face. Pretending he was interested in the young unicorns, he forced a smile in return, and moved forward to pat them with the others. * * * * * * By the evening before the second task. Harry felt as though he were trapped in a nightmare. He was fully aware that even if, by some miracle, he managed to find a suitable spell, he'd have a real job mastering it overnight. How could he have let this happen? Why hadn't he got to work on the egg's clue sooner? Why had he ever let his mind wander in class - what if a teacher had once mentioned how to breathe underwater? He sat with Hermione and Ron in the library as the sun set outside, tearing feverishly through page after page of spells, hidden from one another by the massive piles of books on the desk in front of each of them. Harry's heart gave a huge leap every time he saw the word “water” on a page, but more often than not it was merely “Take two pints of water, half a pound of shredded mandrake leaves, and a newt…” “I don't reckon it can be done,” said Ron's voice flatly from the other side of the table. “There's nothing. Nothing. Closest was that thing to dry up puddles and ponds, that Drought Charm, but that was nowhere near powerful enough to drain the lake.” “There must be something,” Hermione muttered, moving a candle closer to her. Her eyes were so tired she was poring over the tiny print of Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes with her nose about an inch from the page. “They'd never have set a task that was undoable.” “They have,” said Ron. “Harry, just go down to the lake tomorrow, right, stick your head in, yell at the merpeople to give back whatever they've nicked, and see if they chuck it out. Best you can do, mate.” “There's a way of doing it!” Hermione said crossly. “There just has to be!” She seemed to be taking the library's lack of useful information on the subject as a personal insult; it had never failed her before. “I know what I should have done,” said Harry, resting, face-down, on Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts. “I should've learned to be an Animagus like Sirius.” An Animagus was a wizard who could transform into an animal. “Yeah, you could've turned into a goldfish any time you wanted!” said Ron. “Or a frog,” yawned Harry. He was exhausted. “It takes years to become an Animagus, and then you have to register yourself and everything,” said Hermione vaguely, now squinting down the index of Weird Wizarding Dilemmas and Their Solutions. “Professor McGonagall told us, remember…you've got to register yourself with the Improper Use of Magic Office…what animal you become, and your markings, so you can't abuse it…” “…Hermione, I was joking,” said Harry wearily. “I know I haven't got a chance of turning into a frog by tomorrow morning.…” “Oh this is no use,” Hermione said, snapping shut Weird Wizarding Dilemmas. “Who on earth wants to make their nose hair grow into ringlets?” “I wouldn't mind,” said Fred Weasley's voice. “Be a talking point, wouldn't it?” Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up. Fred and George had just emerged from behind some bookshelves. “What're you two doing here?” Ron asked. “Looking for you,” said George. “McGonagall wants you, Ron. And you, Hermione.” “Why?” said Hermione, looking surprised. “Dunno…she was looking a bit grim, though,” said Fred. “We're supposed to take you down to her office,” said George. Ron and Hermione stared at Harry, who felt his stomach drop. Was Professor McGonagall about to tell Ron and Hermione off? Perhaps she'd noticed how much they were helping him, when he ought to be working out how to do the task alone? “We'll meet you back in the common room,” Hermione told Harry as she got up to go with Ron - both of them looked very anxious. “Bring as many of these books as you can, okay?” “Right,” said Harry uneasily. By eight o'clock. Madam Pince had extinguished all the lamps and came to chivvy Harry out of the library. Staggering under the weight of as many books as he could carry, Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room, pulled a table into a corner, and continued to search. There was nothing in Madcap Magic for Wacky Warlocks…nothing in A Guide to Medieval Sorcery…not one mention of underwater exploits in An Anthology of Eighteenth-Century Charms, or in Dreadful Denizens of the Deep, or Powers You Never Knew You Had and What to Do with Them Now You've Wised Up. Crookshanks crawled into Harry's lap and curled up, purring deeply. The common room emptied slowly around Harry. People kept wishing him luck for the next morning in cheery, confident voices like Hagrid's, all of them apparently convinced that he was about to pull off another stunning performance like the one he had managed in the first task. Harry couldn't answer them, he just nodded, feeling as though there were a golfball stuck in his throat. By ten to midnight, he was alone in the room with Crookshanks. He had searched all the remaining books, and Ron and Hermione had not come back. It's over, he told himself. You can't do it. You'll just have to go down to the lake in the morning and tell the judges.… He imagined himself explaining that he couldn't do the task. He pictured Bagman's look of round-eyed surprise, Karkaroffs satisfied, yellow-toothed smile. He could almost hear Fleur Delacour saying “I knew it…'e is too young, ‘e is only a little boy.” He saw Malfoy flashing his POTTER STINKS badge at the front of the crowd, saw Hagrid's crestfallen, disbelieving face.… Forgetting that Crookshanks was on his lap. Harry stood up very suddenly; Crookshanks hissed angrily as he landed on the floor, gave Harry a disgusted look, and stalked away with his bottlebrush tail in the air, but Harry was already hurrying up the spiral staircase to his dormitory.…He would grab the Invisibility Cloak and go back to the library, he'd stay there all night if he had to.… “Lumos,” Harry whispered fifteen minutes later as he opened the library door. Wand tip alight, he crept along the bookshelves, pulling down more books - books of hexes and charms, books on merpeople and water monsters, books on famous witches and wizards, on magical inventions, on anything at all that might include one passing reference to underwater survival. He carried them over to a table, then set to work, searching them by the narrow beam of his wand, occasionally checking his watch.… One in the morning…two in the morning…the only way he could keep going was to tell himself, over and over again, next book…in the next one…the next one… * * * * * * The mermaid in the painting in the prefects’ bathroom was laughing. Harry was bobbing like a cork in bubbly water next to her rock, while she held his Firebolt over his head. “Come and get it!” she giggled maliciously. “Come on, jump!” “I can't,” Harry panted, snatching at the Firebolt, and struggling not to sink. “Give it to me!” But she just poked him painfully in the side with the end of the broomstick, laughing at him. “That hurts - get off - ouch -” “Harry Potter must wake up, sir!” “Stop poking me -” “Dobby must poke Harry Potter, sir, he must wake up!” Harry opened his eyes. He was still in the library; the Invisibility Cloak had slipped off his head as he'd slept, and the side of his face was stuck to the pages of Where There's a Wand, There's a Way. He sat up, straightening his glasses, blinking in the bright daylight. “Harry Potter needs to hurry!” squeaked Dobby. “The second task starts in ten minutes, and Harry Potter -” “Ten minutes?” Harry croaked. “Ten - ten minutes?” He looked down at his watch. Dobby was right. It was twenty past nine. A large, dead weight seemed to fall through Harry's chest into his stomach. “Hurry, Harry Potter!” squeaked Dobby, plucking at Harry's sleeve. “You is supposed to be down by the lake with the other champions, sir!” “It's too late, Dobby,” Harry said hopelessly. “I'm not doing the task, I don't know how -” “Harry Potter will do the task!” squeaked the elf. “Dobby knew Harry had not found the right book, so Dobby did it for him!” “What?” said Harry. “But you don't know what the second task is -” “Dobby knows, sir! Harry Potter has to go into the lake and find his Wheezy -” “Find my what?” “- and take his Wheezy back from the merpeople!” “What's a Wheezy?” “Your Wheezy, sir, your Wheezy-Wheezy who is giving Dobby his sweater!” Dobby plucked at the shrunken maroon sweater he was now wearing over his shorts. “What?” Harry gasped. “They've got…they've got Ron?” “The thing Harry Potter will miss most, sir!” squeaked Dobby. “'But past an hour-‘” “- ‘the prospect's black,'” Harry recited, staring, horror-struck, at the elf. “'Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.’ Dobby - what've I got to do?” “You has to eat this, sir!” squeaked the elf, and he put his hand in the pocket of his shorts and drew out a ball of what looked like slimy, grayish-green rat tails. “Right before you go into the lake, sir - gillyweed!” “What's it do?” said Harry, staring at the gillyweed. “It will make Harry Potter breathe underwater, sir!” “Dobby,” said Harry frantically, “listen - are you sure about this?” He couldn't quite forget that the last time Dobby had tried to “help” him, he had ended up with no bones in his right arm. “Dobby is quite sure, sir!” said the elf earnestly. “Dobby hears things, sir, he is a house-elf, he goes all over the castle as he lights the fires and mops the floors. Dobby heard Professor McGonagall and Professor Moody in the staffroom, talking about the next task.…Dobby cannot let Harry Potter lose his Wheezy!” Harry's doubts vanished. Jumping to his feet he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, stuffed it into his bag, grabbed the gillyweed, and put it into his pocket, then tore out of the library with Dobby at his heels. “Dobby is supposed to be in the kitchens, sir!” Dobby squealed as they burst into the corridor. “Dobby will be missed - good luck, Harry Potter, sir, good luck!” “See you later, Dobby!” Harry shouted, and he sprinted along the corridor and down the stairs, three at a time. The entrance hall contained a few last-minute stragglers, all leaving the Great Hall after breakfast and heading through the double oak doors to watch the second task. They stared as Harry flashed past, sending Colin and Dennis Creevey flying as he leapt down the stone steps and out onto the bright, chilly grounds. As he pounded down the lawn he saw that the seats that had encircled the dragons’ enclosure in November were now ranged along the opposite bank, rising in stands that were packed to the bursting point and reflected in the lake below. The excited babble of the crowd echoed strangely across the water as Harry ran flat-out around the other side of the lake toward the judges, who were sitting at another gold-draped table at the water's edge. Cedric, Fleur, and Krum were beside the judges’ table, watching Harry sprint toward them. “I'm…here…” Harry panted, skidding to a halt in the mud and accidentally splattering Fleur's robes. “Where have you been?” said a bossy, disapproving voice. “The task's about to start!” Harry looked around. Percy Weasley was sitting at the judges’ table - Mr. Crouch had failed to turn up again. “Now, now, Percy!” said Ludo Bagman, who was looking intensely relieved to see Harry. “Let him catch his breath!” Dumbledore smiled at Harry, but Karkaroff and Madame Maxime didn't look at all pleased to see him.…It was obvious from the looks on their faces that they had thought he wasn't going to turn up. Harry bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath; he had a stitch in his side that felt as though he had a knife between his ribs, but there was no time to get rid of it; Ludo Bagman was now moving among the champions, spacing them along the bank at intervals of ten feet. Harry was on the very end of the line, next to Krum, who was wearing swimming trunks and was holding his wand ready. “All right. Harry?” Bagman whispered as he moved Harry a few feet farther away from Krum. “Know what you're going to do?” “Yeah,” Harry panted, massaging his ribs. Bagman gave Harry's shoulder a quick squeeze and returned to the judges’ table; he pointed his wand at his throat as he had done at the World Cup, said, “Sonorus!” and his voice boomed out across the dark water toward the stands. “Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One…two…three!” The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupted with cheers and applause; without looking to see what the other champions were doing, Harry pulled off his shoes and socks, pulled the handful of gillyweed out of his pocket, stuffed it into his mouth, and waded out into the lake. It was so cold he felt the skin on his legs searing as though this were fire, not icy water. His sodden robes weighed him down as he walked in deeper; now the water was over his knees, and his rapidly numbing feet were slipping over silt and flat, slimy stones. He was chewing the gillyweed as hard and fast as he could; it felt unpleasantly slimy and rubbery, like octopus tentacles. Waist-deep in the freezing water he stopped, swallowed, and waited for something to happen. He could hear laughter in the crowd and knew he must look stupid, walking into the lake without showing any sign of magical power. The part of him that was still dry was covered in goose pimples; half immersed in the icy water, a cruel breeze lifting his hair, Harry started to shiver violently. He avoided looking at the stands; the laughter was becoming louder, and there were catcalls and jeering from the Slytherins.… Then, quite suddenly, Harry felt as though an invisible pillow had been pressed over his mouth and nose. He tried to draw breath, but it made his head spin; his lungs were empty, and he suddenly felt a piercing pain on either side of his neck - Harry clapped his hands around his throat and felt two large slits just below his ears, flapping in the cold air.…He had gills. Without pausing to think, he did the only thing that made sense - he flung himself forward into the water. The first gulp of icy lake water felt like the breath of life. His head had stopped spinning; he took another great gulp of water and felt it pass smoothly through his gills, sending oxygen back to his brain. He stretched out his hands in front of him and stared at them. They looked green and ghostly under the water, and they had become webbed. He twisted around and looked at his bare feet - they had become elongated and the toes were webbed too: It looked as though he had sprouted flippers. The water didn't feel icy anymore either…on the contrary, he felt pleasantly cool and very light.…Harry struck out once more, marveling at how far and fast his flipper-like feet propelled him through the vater, and noticing how clearly he could see, and how he no longer seemed to need to blink. He had soon swum so far into the lake that he could no longer see the bottom. He flipped over and dived into its depths. Silence pressed upon his ears as he soared over a strange, dark, foggy landscape. He could only see ten feet around him, so that as he sped throuugh the water new scenes seemed to loom suddenly out of the incoming darkness: forests of rippling, tangled black weed, wide plains of mud littered with dull, glimmering stones. He swam deeper and deeper, out toward the middle of the lake, his eyes wide, staring through the eerily gray-lit water around him to the shadow beyond, where the water became opaque. Small fish flickered past him like silver darts. Once or twice he thought he saw something larger moving ahead of him, but when he got nearer, he discovered it to be nothing but a large, blackened log, or a dense clump of weed. There was no sign of any of the other champions, merpeople, Ron - nor, thankfully, the giant squid. Light green weed stretched ahead of him as far as he could see, two feet deep, like a meadow of very overgrown grass. Harry was staring unblinkingly ahead of him, trying to discern shapes through the gloom…and then, without warning, something grabbed hold of his ankle. Harry twisted his body around and saw a grindylow, a small, horned water demon, poking out of the weed, its long fingers clutched tightly around Harry's leg, its pointed fangs bared - Harry stuck his webbed hand quickly inside his robes and fumbled for his wand. By the time he had grasped it, two more grindylows had risen out of the weed, had seized handfuls of Harry's robes, and were attempting to drag him down. “Relashio!” Harry shouted, except that no sound came out.…A large bubble issued from his mouth, and his wand, instead of sending sparks at the grindylows, pelted them with what seemed to be a jet of boiling water, for where it struck them, angry red patches appeared on their green skin. Harry pulled his ankle out of the grindylows grip and swam, as fast as he could, occasionally sending more jets of hot water over his shoulder at random; every now and then he felt one of the grindylows snatch at his foot again, and he kicked out, hard; finally, he felt his foot connect with a horned skull, and looking back, saw the dazed grindylow floating away, cross-eyed, while its fellows shook their fists at Harry and sank back into the weed. Harry slowed down a little, slipped his wand back inside his robes, and looked around, listening again. He turned full circle in the water, the silence pressing harder than ever against his eardrums. He knew he must be even deeper in the lake now, but nothing was moving but the rippling weed. “How are you getting on?” Harry thought he was having a heart attack. He whipped around and saw Moaning Myrtle floating hazily in front of him, gazing at him through her thick, pearly glasses. “Myrtle!” Harry tried to shout - but once again, nothing came out of his mouth but a very large bubble. Moaning Myrtle actually giggled. “You want to try over there!” she said, pointing. “I won't come with you.…I don't like them much, they always chase me when I get too close.…” Harry gave her the thumbs-up to show his thanks and set off once more, careful to swim a bit higher over the weed to avoid any more grindylows that might be lurking there. He swam on for what felt like at least twenty minutes. He was passing over vast expanses of black mud now, which swirled murkily as he disturbed the water. Then, at long last, he heard a snatch of haunting mersong. “An hour long you'll have to look, And to recover what we took…” Harry swam faster and soon saw a large rock emerge out of the muddy water ahead. It had paintings of merpeople on it; they were carrying spears and chasing what looked like the giant squid. Harry swam on past the rock, following the mersong. “…your time's half gone, so tarry not Lest what you seek stays here to rot.…” A cluster of crude stone dwellings stained with algae loomed suddenly out of the gloom on all sides. Here and there at the dark windows, Harry saw faces…faces that bore no resemblance at all to the painting of the mermaid in the prefects’ bathroom.… The merpeople had grayish skin and long, wild, dark green hair. Their eyes were yellow, as were their broken teeth, and they wore thick ropes of pebbles around their necks. They leered at Harry as he swam past; one or two of them emerged from their caves to watch him better, their powerful, silver fish tails beating the water, spears clutched in their hands. Harry sped on, staring around, and soon the dwellings became more numerous; there were gardens of weed around some of them, and he even saw a pet grindylow tied to a stake outside one door. Merpeople were emerging on all sides now, watching him eagerly, pointing at his webbed hands and gills, talking behind their hands to one another. Harry sped around a corner and a very strange sight met his eyes. A whole crowd of merpeople was floating in front of the houses that lined what looked like a mer-version of a village square. A choir of merpeople was singing in the middle, calling the champions toward them, and behind them rose a crude sort of statue; a gigantic merperson hewn from a boulder. Four people were bound tightly to the tail of the stone merperson. Ron was tied between Hermione and Cho Chang. There was also a girl who looked no older than eight, whose clouds of silvery hair made Harry feel sure that she was Fleur Delacour's sister. All four of them appeared to be in a very deep sleep. Their heads were lolling onto their shoulders, and fine streams of bubbles kept issuing from their mouths. Harry sped toward the hostages, half expecting the merpeople to lower their spears and charge at him, but they did nothing. The ropes of weed tying the hostages to the statue were thick, slimy, and very strong. For a fleeting second he thought of the knife Sirius had bought him for Christmas - locked in his trunk in the castle a quarter of a mile away, no use to him whatsoever. He looked around. Many of the merpeople surrounding them were carrying spears. He swam swiftly toward a seven-foot-tall merman with a long green beard and a choker of shark fangs and tried to mime a request to borrow the spear. The merman laughed and shook his head. “We do not help,” he said in a harsh, croaky voice. “Come ON!” Harry said fiercely (but only bubbles issued from his mouth), and he tried to pull the spear away from the merman, but the merman yanked it back, still shaking his head and laughing. Harry swirled around, staring about. Something sharp…anything… There were rocks littering the lake bottom. He dived and snatched up a particularly jagged one and returned to the statue. He began to hack at the ropes binding Ron, and after several minutes’ hard work, they broke apart. Ron floated, unconscious, a few inches above the lake bottom, drifting a little in the ebb of the water. Harry looked around. There was no sign of any of the other champions. What were they playing at? Why didn't they hurry up? He turned back to Hermione, raised the jagged rock, and began to hack at her bindings too - At once, several pairs of strong gray hands seized him. Half a dozen mermen were pulling him away from Hermione, shaking their green-haired heads, and laughing. “You take your own hostage,” one of them said to him. “Leave the others…” “No way!” said Harry furiously - but only two large bubbles came out. Your task is to retrieve your own friend…leave the others…” She's my friend too!” Harry yelled, gesturing toward Hermione, an enormous silver bubble emerging soundlessly from his lips. “And I don't want them to die either!” Cho's head was on Hermione's shoulder; the small silver-haired girl was ghostly green and pale. Harry struggled to fight off the mermen, but they laughed harder than ever, holding him back. Harry looked wildly around. Where were the other champions? Would he have time to take Ron to the surface and come back down for Hermione and the others? Would he be able to find them again? He looked down at his watch to see how much time was left - it had stopped working. But then the merpeople around him pointed excitedly over his head. Harry looked up and saw Cedric swimming toward them. There was an enormous bubble around his head, which made his features look oddly wide and stretched. “Got lost!” he mouthed, looking panic-stricken. “Fleur and Krum're coming now!” Feeling enormously relieved, Harry watched Cedric pull a knife out of his pocket and cut Cho free. He pulled her upward and out of sight. Harry looked around, waiting. Where were Fleur and Krum? Time was getting short, and according to the song, the hostages would be lost after an hour.… The merpeople started screeching animatedly. Those holding Harry loosened their grip, staring behind them. Harry turned and saw something monstrous cutting through the water toward them: a human body in swimming trunks with the head of a shark.…It was Krum. He appeared to have transfigured himself - but badly. The shark-man swam straight to Hermione and began snapping and biting at her ropes; the trouble was that Krum's new teeth were positioned very awkwardly for biting anything smaller than a dolphin, and Harry was quite sure that if Krum wasn't careful, he was going to rip Hermione in half. Darting forward. Harry hit Krum hard on the shoulder and held up the jagged stone. Krum seized it and began to cut Hermione free. Within seconds, he had done it; he grabbed Hermione around the waist, and without a backward glance, began to rise rapidly with her toward the surface. Now what? Harry thought desperately. If he could be sure that Fleur was coming.…But still no sign. There was nothing to be done except… He snatched up the stone, which Krum had dropped, but the mermen now closed in around Ron and the little girl, shaking their heads at him. Harry pulled out his wand. “Get out of the way!” Only bubbles flew out of his mouth, but he had the distinct impression that the mermen had understood him, because they suddenly stopped laughing. Their yellowish eyes were fixed upon Harry's wand, and they looked scared. There might be a lot more of them than there were of him, but Harry could tell, by the looks on their faces, that they knew no more magic than the giant squid did. “You've got until three!” Harry shouted; a great stream of bubbles burst from him, but he held up three fingers to make sure they got the message. “One…” (he put down a finger) “two…"(he put down a second one) - They scattered. Harry darted forward and began to hack at the ropes binding the small girl to the statue, and at last she was free. He seized the little girl around the waist, grabbed the neck of Ron's robes, and kicked off from the bottom. It was very slow work. He could no longer use his webbed hands to propel himself forward; he worked his flippers furiously, but Ron and Fleur's sister were like potato-filled sacks dragging him back down.…He fixed his eyes skyward, though he knew he must still be very deep, the water above him was so dark.… Merpeople were rising with him. He could see them swirling around him with ease, watching him struggle through the water.…Would they pull him back down to the depths when the time was up? Did they perhaps eat humans? Harry's legs were seizing up with the effort to keep swimming; his shoulders were aching horribly with the effort of dragging Ron and the girl… He was drawing breath with extreme difficulty. He could feel pain on the sides of his neck again…he was becoming very aware of how wet the water was in his mouth…yet the darkness was definitely thinning now…he could see daylight above him.… He kicked hard with his flippers and discovered that they were nothing more than feet…water was flooding through his mouth into his lungs…he was starting to feel dizzy, but he knew light and air were only ten feet above him…he had to get there…he had to… Harry kicked his legs so hard and fast it felt as though his muscles were screaming in protest; his very brain felt waterlogged, he couldn't breathe, he needed oxygen, he had to keep going, he could not stop - And then he felt his head break the surface of the lake; wonderful, cold, clear air was making his wet face sting; he gulped it down, feeling as though he had never breathed properly before, and, panting, pulled Ron and the little girl up with him. All around him, wild, green-haired heads were emerging out of the water with him, but they were smiling at him. The crowd in the stands was making a great deal of noise; shouting and screaming, they all seemed to be on their feet; Harry had the impression they thought that Ron and the little girl might be dead, but they were wrong…both of them had opened their eyes; the girl looked scared and confused, but Ron merely expelled a great spout of water, blinked in the bright light, turned to Harry, and said, “Wet, this, isn't it?” Then he spotted Fleur's sister. “What did you bring her for?” “Fleur didn't turn up, I couldn't leave her,” Harry panted. “Harry, you prat,” said Ron, “you didn't take that song thing seriously, did you? Dumbledore wouldn't have let any of us drown!” “The song said -” “It was only to make sure you got back inside the time limit!” said Ron. “I hope you didn't waste time down there acting the hero!” Harry felt both stupid and annoyed. It was all very well for Ron; he'd been asleep, he hadn't felt how eerie it was down in the lake, surrounded by spear-carrying merpeople who'd looked more than capable of murder. “C'mon,” Harry said shortly, “help me with her, I don't think she can swim very well.” They pulled Fleur's sister through the water, back toward the bank where the judges stood watching, twenty merpeople accompanying them like a guard of honor, singing their horrible screechy songs. Harry could see Madam Pomfrey fussing over Hermione, Krum, Cedric, and Cho, all of whom were wrapped in thick blankets. Dumbledore and Ludo Bagman stood beaming at Harry and Ron from the bank as they swam nearer, but Percy, who looked very white and somehow much younger than usual, came splashing out to meet them. Meanwhile Madame Maxime was trying to restrain Fleur Delacour, who was quite hysterical, fighting tooth and nail to return to the water. “Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she ‘urt?” “She's fine!” Harry tried to tell her, but he was so exhausted he could hardly talk, let alone shout. Percy seized Ron and was dragging him back to the bank ("Gerroff, Percy, I'm all right!"); Dumbledore and Bagman were pulling Harry upright; Fleur had broken free of Madame Maxime and was hugging her sister. “It was ze grindylows…zey attacked me…oh Gabrielle, I thought…I thought…” “Come here, you,” said Madam Pomfrey. She seized Harry and pulled him over to Hermione and the others, wrapped him so tightly in a blanket that he felt as though he were in a straitjacket, and forced a measure of very hot potion down his throat. Steam gushed out of his ears. “Harry, well done!” Hermione cried. “You did it, you found out how all by yourself!” “Well -” said Harry. He would have told her about Dobby, but he had just noticed Karkaroff watching him. He was the only judge who had not left the table; the only judge not showing signs of pleasure and relief that Harry, Ron, and Fleur's sister had got back safely. “Yeah, that's right,” said Harry, raising his voice slightly so that Karkaroff could hear him. “You haff a water beetle in your hair, Herm-own-ninny,” said Krum. Harry had the impression that Krum was drawing her attention back onto himself; perhaps to remind her that he had just rescued her from the lake, but Hermione brushed away the beetle impatiently and said, “You're well outside the time limit, though, Harry.…Did it take you ages to find us?” “No…I found you okay.…” Harry's feeling of stupidity was growing. Now he was out of the water, it seemed perfectly clear that Dumbledores safety precautions wouldn't have permitted the death of a hostage just because their champion hadn't turned up. Why hadn't he just grabbed Ron and gone? He would have been first back.…Cedric and Krum hadn't wasted time worrying about anyone else; they hadn't taken the mersong seriously.… Dumbledore was crouching at the water's edge, deep in conversation with what seemed to be the chief merperson, a particularly wild and ferocious-looking female. He was making the same sort of screechy noises that the merpeople made when they were above water; clearly, Dumbledore could speak Mermish. Finally he straightened up, turned to his fellow judges, and said, “A conference before we give the marks, I think.” The judges went into a huddle. Madam Pomfrey had gone to rescue Ron from Percy's clutches; she led him over to Harry and the others, gave him a blanket and some Pepperup Potion, then went to fetch Fleur and her sister. Fleur had many cuts on her face and arms and her robes were torn, but she didn't seem to care, nor would she allow Madam Pomfrey to clean them. “Look after Gabrielle,” she told her, and then she turned to Harry. “You saved ‘er,” she said breathlessly. “Even though she was not your ‘ostage.” “Yeah,” said Harry, who was now heartily wishing he'd left all three girls tied to the statue. Fleur bent down, kissed Harry twice on each cheek (he felt his face burn and wouldn't have been surprised if steam was coming out of his ears again), then said to Ron, “And you too-you ‘elped -” “Yeah,” said Ron, looking extremely hopeful, “yeah, a bit -” Fleur swooped down on him too and kissed him. Hermione looked simply furious, but just then, Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice boomed out beside them, making them all jump, and causing the crowd in the stands to go very quiet. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows.… “Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points.” Applause from the stands. “I deserved zero,” said Fleur throatily, shaking her magnificent head. “Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour.” Enormous cheers from the Hufflepuffs in the crowd; Harry saw Cho give Cedric a glowing look. “We therefore award him forty-seven points.” Harry's heart sank. If Cedric had been outside the time limit, he most certainly had been. “Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points.” Karkaroff clapped particularly hard, looking very superior. “Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect,” Bagman continued. “He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own.” Ron and Hermione both gave Harry half-exasperated, half-commiserating looks. “Most of the judges,” and here, Bagman gave Karkaroff a very nasty look, “feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However…Mr. Potter's score is forty-five points.” Harry's stomach leapt - he was now tying for first place with Cedric. Ron and Hermione, caught by surprise, stared at Harry, then laughed and started applauding hard with the rest of the crowd. “There you go. Harry!” Ron shouted over the noise. “You weren't being thick after all - you were showing moral fiber!” Fleur was clapping very hard too, but Krum didn't look happy at all. He attempted to engage Hermione in conversation again, but she was too busy cheering Harry to listen. “The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June,” continued Bagman. “The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions.” It was over. Harry thought dazedly, as Madam Pomfrey began herding the champions and hostages back to the castle to get into dry clothes…it was over, he had got through…he didn't have to worry about anything now until June the twenty-fourth…. Next time he was in Hogsmeade, Harry decided as he walked back up the stone steps into the castle, he was going to buy Dobby a pair of socks for every day of the year. “你不是说你已经找到蛋里的线索了吗？”荷米恩生气地说。 “小声点，我是说我需要再研究一下。”哈利也生气了。 这节课是魔法练习。弗利威克教授给每个学生发了一个坐垫，训练他们躲闪飞来物体的技术。可整节课都被学生们用来说闲话了。 “为什么莫迪要监视史纳皮呢？”罗恩问道。 “我不知道是否丹伯多真的交待莫迪这么做，莫迪说校长让史纳皮留下来是为了给他第二个机会。”哈利说。 “什么？也许莫迪以为史纳皮把你列入火杯名单了。” “罗恩，”荷米恩怀疑地摇着头说，“我们原来以为史纳皮想杀了哈利，可到头来反而救了他。” 史纳皮倒是真的救过他一次。可问题在于他厌恶哈利，只要一有机会，他就会扣哈利的分，惩罚他，或者去建议把他开除出校。 “我相信莫迪说的。”荷米思说，“校长又不是笨蛋，他信任哈格力和露平。事实证明他这么做是对的，既然如此，为什么不能说他对史纳皮的信任也是对的呢？” “那为什么这些人搜他办公室呢？”罗恩反驳道。 “你只不过想说明史纳皮在搞鬼。”荷米恩说。 “我想知道史纳皮在他的第一次机会里干了什么，以至他现在有第二次机会。”罗恩又说，把坐垫飞起来，差点落在荷米恩的头上。 为了让西里斯知道霍格瓦彻发生的一切，哈利给他写了一封信，告诉他莫迪和史纳皮的对话，克劳斯半夜潜进史纳皮的办公室。然后他把信系在那只灰色猫头鹰脚上，让它送去了。 现在，哈利发现越来越难集中精神学习了。他的目光老是被窗外的景色吸引。眨眼间，离二月二十四日只剩一个星期了，然后只剩五天，四天，三天…… 当只剩下两天时，那只猫头鹰回来了，脚上同样系着一张纸。 哈利解下来，只见西里斯在上面写着：再给我送些霍格瓦彻的下周末活动资料。 哈利把资料写在那张纸的空白处，系好后，看着猫头鹰飞驰而去。 “他为什么想知道那些资料呢？”罗恩问道。 “我也不知道。”哈利说，“好了，上课吧。” 哈格力又重新教他们了。显然，他对独角兽的认识比对精灵的还要多，今天他捉到了两只全身金黄的小独角兽。 “到它们两岁时，全身就会变成银白色，然后就会长出四只角，现在，孩子们，过来摸摸它们吧，小独角兽很容易相信别人，别怕，过来吧……对，给它一块方糖。” 哈利走过去，摸了一下独角兽。 “有点紧张是吗？”哈格力问道。 “是的，有一点儿。”哈利说。 “我之前很担心你的，但我现在知道你都能应付过来。所以我对你很放心。怎么样，你已经找到那只蛋的线索了，是吗？” 哈利摇摇头。心里马上想起自己还不知道如何在水底里呼吸的事。他发愁了。哈利抬头望着哈格力，心想也许他知道该怎么办。 “你会赢的，”哈格力拍着哈利的肩膀说，“我能感觉到。” 看着哈格力一脸自信的笑，哈利实在不忍心去碰碎它。他只好勉强地笑了笑。 要开始第二个任务的前夕，哈利觉得他简直是陷入了一场恶梦。他想即使真的有奇迹出现，一夜之间让他找到能使他在水底呼吸的咒语，他还得花时间去背熟它。怎么办呢？哈利开始后悔上课不专心了，说不定老师曾经讲过这么一条咒语呢。 三个伙伴在图书馆里一页一页查找咒语。凡是有关水的咒语都不被放过。可是翻来翻去，最终还是没有找到是有用的一条。 “哈利，明天尽管去湖里吧，把头伸进水里，对着人鱼大声喊，叫他们把偷去的东西吐出来。这是最好的办法了。”罗恩说。 “你在胡说八道些什么？一定有这么一条咒语的。”荷米恩生气地说。 “也许你应该变成金鱼或青蛙。这样问题不就解决了吗？”罗恩又说。 “没有用的。”荷米恩说。 忽然，书架后面伸出两个头，是弗来德和乔治。 “你俩在这干吗？”罗恩问道。 “找你们啊，”乔治说，“麦康娜教授想见你，罗恩，还有你，荷米恩。” “什么事吗？” “我们也不清楚。” “那好吧，哈利，我们回头在大房间见。”荷米恩和罗恩出去了。他们看起来都有些紧张。 八点，哈利抱着一撂书回到大房间。继续查找，到十点钟时，所有的书都翻完了，可是罗恩和荷米恩还没回来，此时哈利心里乱成一团。他又被上隐身衣，重新回到图书馆，在书架上找着关于著名巫师以及魔法发明的书，一边找一边看表。时间滴滴答答地过去，一点钟，两点钟…… 、迷糊中哈利被摇醒了，原来他还在图书馆里，他的隐身衣在他睡觉时滑下来，而一旁多比正在摇他，“哈利，快点，第二个任务十分钟后就开始了。” “十、十分钟？”哈利沙哑地说。他看一眼手表，上面指着九点五十分。 “哈利·波特，你要和另一个优胜者一起到湖底下去。” “太晚了，多比，我不去了，我不知道该如何在……” “哈利·波特必须去。”小精灵说，“多比知道你没找到咒语，所以我帮你找到了。” “什么？可是你不知道第二个任务是什么。” “多比知道，哈利要去湖底找罗恩。” “找什么？” “你认识罗恩，罗恩就是给多比套头毛衣的人。” “什么？他们抓走了罗恩？” “你最想念的东西。”多比说。 “我该怎么办？” “把这个吃下去，它可以使你在水底下呼吸。”多比说着从口袋里拿出一个红绿色、粘乎乎的小球，“下水后就把它吃了。” “这是什么？” “是帮你在水底下呼吸的东西。”多比说。 “你肯定它能行吗？” “非常肯定，先生，再见吧，先生，我将会在厨房里等你。” 哈利告别了多比，马上朝湖边方向跑去。当他来到湖边上，发现那里坐满了人。塞德里克，芙璐和克伦正坐在裁判旁边。 “我来了。”哈利终于跑到裁判前面，上气不接下气地说。 “你去哪了？比赛就要开始了。”裁判不满地说。 哈利看见伯希。威斯里也坐在裁判席上，他是来代替克劳斯先生的。 所有的参赛者都站成一排，巴格蒙在选手中转了一圈后回到裁判席，随着他一声哨响，哈利马上脱掉鞋袜，掏出小球塞入嘴里，走进水中。一阵刺骨的寒冷从脚底传遍全身。哈利浑身起了疙瘩，他强忍着寒冷继续向水中走去。岸上传来一阵笑声，观众们在笑哈利不像其他参赛者一样用魔法入水。笑声，喝倒彩声灌满了他耳朵。 突然，哈利感到头好像被一块枕头托了起来，肺部仿佛被挖空了，脖子两旁一阵锥心的痛。他用手～摸，发现耳朵下边裂开了两条缝，慢慢地从里边长出了鱼鳍。他不由自主地在水里找起来，奇怪，水现在一点也不冷了。哈利放胆呼吸了一下，水居然顺利从鱼腮里流过来。 水底很静，哈利只能看到周围十尺的地方，除了游来游去的水鱼之外，哈利看不到其他人的踪影。突然，他感到脚被东西缠住了，哈利回头一看，原来是颗巨大的杂草。他极力挣脱然后游走了。 “进行得怎么样？” 哈利向四周看了看，发现米特就在前面。 “米特。”哈利喊道，可是除了嘴里冒出泡泡以外，他什么声音也发不出来。 “我不会跟你一块游到那去的，那些杂草太令人讨厌。” 哈利只好自个儿游了大概二十分钟。忽然，他听到远处有人在唱歌。他游过去，看到一块巨石上，坐着一群人鱼。它们拿着矛在捕捉大鸟贼。当他游过那块石头时，趁机打量了他们一下。这些人鱼的身体都是灰色的，头发墨绿，眼睛则呈黄色，就像他们的烂牙一样，它们一看见哈利游过来，全都不怀好意地瞪着他，还有的人鱼特意从洞穴里出来看个究竟。 哈利继续前行，忽然，一幅神奇的景像出现在他面前，在一片草地上有一幢房子，房子前同样有一群人鱼，它们正围着一座雕像唱歌，而雕像的下边，则绑着四个人。 罗恩被绑在荷米恩和卓。陈中间，另外还有一个女孩，看上去不超过八岁。她那浓密的银头发使哈利一下子就断定这是芙璐·迪来高的妹妹，四个人似乎都睡着了，嘴里不断吐着泡。哈利游到雕像前想要解开罗恩身上的绳子。但那用杂草拧成的绳又粗又坚韧，哈利看了看周围的人鱼，他游到一个长胡子的人鱼面前向他借矛。 “不行，我们不会帮你的。”他用沙哑的声音生硬地说。 哈利只好在草丛里找些锋利的东西。终于被他找到块有棱角的石头。他马上朝罗恩游过去，用石头割开绳子，拉着他游到水面上。哈利浮出水面朝四周看了看，还是不见其他参赛者的踪影。来不及多想，他又游回去救荷米恩。当他正要用石头把绳割开时，那些人鱼马上围过来摇着头说：“你已拿走了你的东西，其他的留下。” “不行！”哈利生气地说，但是吐出的只有几个气泡。 “你的任务是救你自己的朋友，把其他的留下。” “不，她也是我的朋友，我不要他们死去。”哈利嘴里吐出一串气泡。 早的头搭在荷米恩的肩膀上，她的脸此时已发青了。哈利想看看表，却发现它停了。根据那首歌，过了一个小时，就什么都不复存在。他心里急得要命，为什么其他参赛者还不出现呢？ 就在这时，人鱼们兴奋地叫起来，只见头顶上有气泡冒出来，哈利定晴一看，是塞德里克。 “迷路了。”塞德里克的嘴嚼着说，接着，克伦也来了。他们两人救走了荷米恩和卓。陈。 “现在怎么办？”哈利绝望地想。芙璐还不来，那小女孩可就危险了，他又拿起那块石头，但人鱼们已经知道他想干什么，都围过来摇头。 哈利拿出魔杖说：“让开。” 人鱼们似乎有点害怕，纷纷退下去。哈利赶紧割掉绳把那小女孩解下来，再把她绑在自己腰里，然后拼命地往上游。人鱼们也跟着他，哈利心里很害怕，它们会把他拖下去吗？它们会吃人吗？他的腿不停地游动，两只肩膀由于托着罗恩，渐渐地痛起来了。越往上，他就游得越辛苦。脖子开始痛了，他感到口、鼻子全都被难受，身体又感到刺骨的冰冷。坚持，坚持，就快到水面了。哈利脑海一片空白，只顽强地朝着光明游上去。 终于，他的头露出了水面。岸上的人都欢呼起来。比时，罗思和那个小女孩睁开了眼睛。小女孩一脸的迷惑，而罗恩则吐出一大滩水，他对哈利说：“你为什么把她也带上来了？” “英潞没有来，我不能扔下她。” 他们两个一起把她推上了岸。哈利看见克伦，塞德里克和卓。 陈都披上毯子了，丹伯多和露得。巴格蒙站在那里朝他微笑。芙璐则在歇斯底里地喊着要重新到湖里去。 “盖布丽！盖布丽！她还活着吗？她还好吗？” “她很好。”哈利想告诉她，但他已经疲惫得一句话也说不出来了。 伯希扶起罗恩，丹伯多和巴格蒙拉起哈利；芙珊刚跑过去抱起她妹妹。 “你过来。”波姆弗雷夫人说。她把哈利拉到荷米恩和其他人跟前，用毯子紧紧地把他裹住，倒给他一杯魔幻剂让他喝下去。 “有只水虫在你头上。”克伦对荷米恩说。 哈利知道克伦只想吸引荷米恩的注意力，提醒她是他救了她，但荷米恩只是不耐烦把水虫弹开，继续对哈利说，“你超了很多时间，难道你找了很久才找到我们吗？” “不是，我很快就找到你了……” 丹伯多正在和人鱼首领——一个看上去很粗野的雌性人鱼说话，他懂人鱼的语言。最后，他转过身对其他裁判说：“评分前我们得先开个会。” 裁判们围成一团。波姆弗雷夫人又把罗恩带到哈利身边同样用毯子把他裹住。芙璐走到哈利跟前感激地说：“你救了她，虽然她不是你的朋友。”她弯下身子吻了哈利的脸颊，然后转向罗恩说，“还有你，你也帮了大忙。”她又吻了他。 “女士们，先生们，我们经过讨论，已经给每一位参赛者评了分，现在由我宣布他们的分数。”校长站起来说。 “芙璐·迪来高小姐虽然很好地利用了泡沫咒语，但在游向目标的过程遭到塞德里克。迪格瑞的攻击，最后没能救出人质，我们给她二十五分。 塞德里克。迪格瑞先生是第一个救出人质的人，虽然超了一分钟时间。我们给他四十七分。 维特。克伦先生是第二个救出人质的，他得四十分。 哈利·波特先生是最后上岸的人。但是人鱼首领告诉我们说他是第一个到达人质被绑地方的人，而且他的延迟是因为回去救其他人质，不仅仅为了他自己。所以，我们给他四十五分。“ 荷米恩和罗恩欢呼起来，现在哈利拿了第二了。 “第三个任务将在六月二十四日的黄昏开始。”巴格蒙继续说。 我们会提前一个月通知参赛者。谢谢你们的参与，再见。“ 第二个任务结束了。波姆弗雷夫人忙着带学生们回城堡换干净的衣服。哈利心想，结束了，他挺过来了，现在他不用再提心吊胆。 当哈利踏上城堡门前阶梯时，他决定每天都给多比买一双袜子。 |
Chapter 25 eyes and eggs Harry doesn't know how long to wash bath to come up with the secret of the egg, so he decided to wash again in the evening. He decided to in Lin fei in the shower to slowly, because few people can enter here, so he is not afraid to be disturbed. Even though reluctantly, he put down the shelves, and consider Cedric's advice. The last time he gets up in the middle of the night, over the wall out of school, just by the administrator FeiChi caught, he didn't want to happen again such things. So this time, he is well prepared to take the invisibility cloak will be very useful, with the magic map, a picture of the school pattern, and there are many paths, secret exports, more importantly, people walk around in the corridor at any time will be displayed with a small point, so that if someone is close to the bath room, he will know in a minute. On Thursday night, harry slipped off the bed, with invisibility cloak, walking down the stairs, like the night hagrid take him to see the action of the dragon. The wait outside let RON and harry gave him a sign. "Fried banana pie", "hope good luck." RON muttered, climbed into the big room, when harry just climbed out through beside him. Harry was holding an egg, map clip in front of the nose, wearing invisibility cloak to walk again, it felt terrible. With the moonlight in the corridor, plus have a map to help, harry was sure he won't hit anything he did not want to see. When go to the statue of wave, and he stopped and lean on the door on the right, gently said a sentence "novel pine". This sign is Cedric told him. Creaking sound the door opened and harry sneaked in, took off his cloak, looking around. Suddenly he thought could have such a bathroom with words, when a monitor is ok. The room was full of lighted candles droplight. Everything is paved with marble, even the house in the middle of the bath. Around the pool of one hundred cross the gold faucet, every faucet with different color stones. Swimming pool with a diving board. White and long curtain hangs down gracefully, a pair of golden frame is hung on the wall painting, a picture of a sleeping on the stone the blonde. He put down the golden eggs, maps and invisibility cloak, headed for the pool. House a burst of footsteps, he now have a suspicion that Cedric lying to him, why ask him to take a bath? What does this have to do and the golden eggs? However, he was on a towel, kneeling under the faucet, open they rushed up. Harry soon found every faucet to bubble is not the same, and he have never seen such a magical bubble. A faucet to bubble is blue or pink, much like football; The other one faucet vomit a bubble like a snowball, A third is floating in the purple smoke coming out of a faucet in the water. When the water in the tub is full, harry turned off all the faucet, take off your pajamas and slippers, slipped in the past. Deep bath, his feet almost no bottom, harry to swimming merrily. Back to the edge, he stared at the egg, but still have no idea. Harry reached for open the egg, the melodious voice immediately fill the whole room. But this time the voice seems to be not as depressing as before. The eggs together again, he worry about noise wake, g. Suddenly, he threw an egg, the egg 5 miles rattled rolling on the ground. At this moment, he heard someone speak. "If I were you, I will put the eggs in the water." Harry frighten swallowed a mouthful of water, he looked intently and see a whimper milt - a sullen, often in the toilet crying female the ghost, is crossing his legs sitting on one of the faucet. "Mitt," he shouted angrily, "I didn't wear anything?" Although the bubble in the pool a lot, but he still felt came in have been breached. "My eyes are closed when you came in." She said, "just you always didn't see me." "That is all right." Harry slightly curved around the leg and head out on the water, only in case of a meter, see what, "I should not have to the bath room, is it? It is for the girl." "You always wash here, and you never care about that." Milt sarcastically said. It's true. Harry. RON and hermione had for some time in a toilet of a meter, spray dolly potion. "Is someone told me to come back to this. But I later will not come again." "I see." Milt said, "but, I'd rather try put the eggs into the water, like Cedric." "You also read him? What's wrong with you? Hiding here peep monitor to take a bath everyday?" Harry said angrily. "Occasionally, but I have never spoken to who." Got up when harry, his name is milt turned, and then use the towel wrapped himself, and took the egg. "Open the egg, put into the water." Rice said. Harry did so. Then he heard the sound of the egg to. The sound is totally different, gurgling, bubbling, with some lyrics, but harry couldn't hear. "You also go to dive into the water." Rice said. Harry took a deep breath and put your head into the water. This time, he finally what did you hear it sing: "the voice come looking for us, on the shore we can't sing, we will steal you miss the most things, an hour later you will find, and then to exchange with us. An hour later, all disappear. Everything is too late, no longer exists. " Harry after listening to surface, through on the hair above his eye, "hear what did it say?" Milt asked. "Yes, but I also want to listen again." Said and harry to dive into the water again. He listened to a few times, but no floating out immediately, but under the water and thought for a moment. "I want to find a people who cannot speak on the shore. Who is this man?" "You are too slow." Milt surfaced. Harry surfaced, see mitt happy appearance. He moved the eyes elsewhere, keep thinking about who will be. Suddenly, his eyes fell upon the mermaid on the wall, "that's right. Is a mermaid. Milt, but the world is not without a mermaid? " "Great, last di Greg thought for a long time to come out." "It must be it, the second task is to find the mermaid in the lake." Harry was very happy. However, when he thought he wasn't a swimmer, harry felt like being punched a punch to the stomach. How little he practiced swimming. When I was a child can palmer and d YouNiYa aunt uncle because of afraid he drowned, don't let him go to learn. Just in the bath can also, but the lake was large and deep. And the mermaid is living under a lake... "Mitt, teach me how to breath in the water." Harry said. "You really cause offence, incredibly told me to breathe." Milt began to cry. "I'm sorry, I forgot you are..." "Of course, I am very easy to forget, also nobody will think of me when I'm alive. Drowned after they also took a long time to find my body. I was sitting in the waiting for them --" Harry didn't mind to listen to, he continued to think about the following the lyrics, "are you lost in our" this sentence what mean? Say is probably, they will come to steal something? What wants to steal it? "Then... so I had to live in the toilet," mitt chatter. "Yes," harry said, "now I know..., hey, turn around, please, I want to." "You'll come to see me?" Milt reluctantly asked. "I'll try." Harry said with invisibility cloak. "Thank you for your help. Goodbye." "Goodbye." Harry came to the corridor, he took out a map, want to look at the corridor is safe. Suddenly, he saw a point on the map in the mobile. According to the map, he knew it was snape's office. And this point is shown of bayu. Klaus. No class on Klaus is not sick? What are he doing here? Harry looked at the point move to move to, please stop here. Stop there. Harry decided to know, he walked down the stairs, taken hand Nie feet down the corridor, and then down a more narrow stairs. He kept staring at the point on the map, are eager to know the reason why Klaus into someone's office at one o 'clock in the middle of the night. Suddenly, harry's foot is empty, he a staggered, the hand of the golden eggs roll down, harry a look bad, quickly climbed up to chase, but it's too late, laying hens singing sound to roll themselves. Invisibility cloak then slipped, map. Golden eggs finally rested on carpet, but it has opened, song in the whole building, harry took stealth suit is want to go on the map, but he can't reach, he listened with ears around, only to hear his footsteps sounded on the stairs and shouts. "It is skin weiss." Harry thought. A little later, skin wes has stood before him. "What's this? This noisy of the whole building awake." He came to the stairs feet, then, just picked up the golden eggs on it. "The egg?" Eph, quietly said, "my sweet heart, this is an important clue. It should belong to the champion of the school. " Harry thought. His arms like a rabbit jump in plop plop. "Weiss, where you been hiding? I'll find you, ha, you dare to steal things. Dan" you'd be expelled from school for more..." Eph, began to go upstairs, followed by his grey cat. It two green eyes stared at harry, harry frighten mix body sweat, don't know the invisibility cloak tube for cats. ", what's the matter?" Snape appeared, he looked very angry. Harry is more nervous, because the emergence of snape would make things worse. "Is the skin weiss, is he the eggs down the stairs." Eph, proudly that. "Skin weiss? But he's not in my office." "No, I mean, I heard the noise, is the egg... is skin weiss put it down, I in to find out what was going on..." "My office will only those magic talent to open." Snape looked toward the stairs, look right through harry. Then he glanced at into the hall, "come and help me find the thief." "Me? Ok, professor, but --" Eph, reluctantly went upstairs, following professor, passing straight from harry. "Go, go upstairs with professor snape." Harry said in his heart. "Professor,", he said sadly, "the headmaster will listen to me this time, students had been stolen before, I think this time I have a duty to testify against him." ", I, I can't blame a just harass house ghost, but my office is on the kuang kuang to ring." Snape stopped suddenly. At this time, harry saw modi magic eye people came in. "What is it? A slumber party?" Shouts modi. "Professor, professor snape and I heard the noise. This is skin make of ghost, he was throwing things down the stairs. The professor snape found someone came into his office." Foer says. Modi near the stairs, harry saw his eyes stopped at snape, then fall squarely on themselves. "Hitched" harry's heart, think of modi could see through invisibility cloak, they both looked at each other for a few minutes, modi and sat open-mouthed. Then he turned to snape said: "is it true? Someone broke into the office you?" "It is not surprising." Said snape coldly. "No, on the contrary, it is very important. Who broke into the office." "I'm just a student, said he wanted to get some drugs, nothing more." Snape said. "So simple?" Mr Modi said. "you didn't hide anything else in the office?" "You know I don't have. My office has been you searched for a long time." Snape is angry. Modi said with a smile: "this is my right, snape, Dan" many told me to look at..." "Dan" trust me, I can't believe that he called you to do so." "Of course he trust you, he is a man of trusting, but I - I said there must be something, something else, do you understand what I mean?" Snape was suddenly made a strange movement. He left forearm right hand as if he had been stabbed. Mr Modi smiled again: "go back to sleep, snape." "You have no right to command I go. I can also like you walked around the school after dark." "Go." Modi threatening tone, "I'm waiting for the dark corridor bump into you of that a moment, by the way, tell you a sound you dropped something." Modi said, and put his hand to the map of lying on the ground. Snape and ruffle along the direction of his fingers. At this time, harry towards modi whisking, his attention,'s beak told him that I, that's mine. Mr Modi knowing. But snape had walked over and picked it up. Modi did incantations, the whistling in the map from snape's hand flew to the modi's hands. "I made a mistake, this is my thing, must be my earlier put it in the garbage here." Mr Modi said calmly. But snape at this time the eggs and maps, immediately understand. "Potter." He said quietly. Mr Modi put paper folded in his pocket, and asked, "what are you talking about?" "Potter. This is his egg, also his paper, I have seen before. He must now be wearing invisibility cloak stood in a corner." Snape growled. He then up the stairs, and stretched out his hands in the air touch, want to find harry. Harry lean lean back straight, to avoid snape's finger. At this time, snape shouted: "there is no other. But I will soon tell the principal your heart towards harry potter." "What do you mean?" "I mean the principal would be very interested in know who to harry in that kind of thing." Snape's hand finally put it down, he tried calmly said: "I am afraid potter roaming here, he has the bad habit. For the sake of his own safety, he should get rid of this problem." "Oh, I see, you want to take advantage of harry, are you?" They stared at each other all don't talk, finally snape said: "I think I should go back to sleep. "This is your best decision tonight. Now, beaver, give me the egg." Mr Modi said. "No," Mr, tightly holding the egg, like a held him in his own son, "professor, this is skin's violation of the rules of evidence." "It belongs to the champion, fast to me." Snape did not say what, eph, reluctantly handed the egg to modi, two people left. Door closed with a thud, harry stared at the modi, saw him coming towards her. "That was thrilling." Mr Modi said. "Yes, yes, thank you, Mr Modi, professor." Harry said tiredly. "What is this?" Mr Modi asked open maps. "Gigantic toru map." Modi looked at the map and said slowly: "did you see who broke into fujian leather office? I mean, to see from the map." "I have seen, is Mr Klaus." "Klaus? Are you sure is he?" "I promise." "Klaus! True interesting!" Mr Modi continue staring at the map. "Professor modi, do you find things with... perhaps Mr Klaus noticed something happened." "For example what?" Mr Modi said pointedly. Harry didn't say more, he didn't want modi found his gigantic outside the church information. Or we'll get hillis into trouble. "I don't know, but there are many bad things happened, isn't it? The daily prophet, black mark, the World Cup, carrion..." Harry muttered to herself. "You are very clever. I ask you a question." Mr Modi said. Harry's heart sinking. He wanted to worse, Mr Modi is certainly want to ask him come from map. This is involved in a series of strange things, but, MoDiYang Yang map say: "can you lend me his?" Harry's heart hanging down, he breathed a sigh of relief, said: "ok." Then modi with he came to the door of the office, he put the egg back to harry, said goodbye, two people are separated. Harry all the way back, my mind still thinking about what happened tonight, a mystery. Back to the dormitory, harry put an egg in his suitcase. 第二五章 眼睛和蛋 哈利不知道要洗多久的澡才能想出那只蛋的秘密，所以他决定晚上再洗。他决定在希琳菲的洗澡房里慢慢想，因为很少人能进到这里来，这样他就不怕被打扰了。尽管很不情愿，他还是放下架子，考虑考虑塞德里克的忠告。 上次他在半夜里起床，翻墙走出学校时，刚好被管理员费驰逮住了，他可不想再发生这类事情了。所以这一次，他准备得很充分，带上隐身衣会很有用的，再带上那张魔法地图，上面画着学校格局，而且还有很多小路、秘密出口，更重要的是，在走廊里走动的人随时都会用小点显示出来，这样一来，要是有人接近澡房，他马上就会知道了。 星期四晚上，哈利溜下床，披上隐身衣，溜下楼梯，就像那晚哈格力带他去看龙的动作一样。这次哈利让罗恩在外面等并给他一个暗号。“油炸香蕉馅饼”，“希望好运。”罗恩喃喃地说，爬进了那大房间，这时哈利刚好爬出来经过他旁边。 哈利手里拿着蛋，地图夹在鼻子前，再穿隐身衣走路，简直难受极了。好在走廊里洒满了月光，再加上有地图的帮助，哈利确信他不会撞上任何他不想看到的人。当走到波理斯的雕像时，他停下来，把身子贴在右边门上，轻轻地说了句“新奇的松树”。这句暗号是塞德里克告诉他的。 门吱呀一声开了，哈利溜进去，脱掉隐身衣，环顾四周。 他突然觉得能有这样一间洗澡间用的话，当一个班长还是不错的。房间里布满了点着蜡烛的吊灯。所有东西都是用大理石铺成的，连房子中间的浴池也是。池子周围装着一百只渡金的水龙头，每个水龙头都镶着不同颜色的宝石。泳池上面还有一块跳水板。又白又长的窗帘优雅地垂下来，墙上挂着一副金框的油画，上面画着一个睡在石头上的金发美人。 他放下金蛋、地图和隐身衣，向浴池走去。房子里回荡起一阵脚步声，他现在有点怀疑塞德里克在骗他，为什么叫他来洗澡呢？ 这和金蛋有什么关系？可是，他还是被上一条毛巾，跪在水龙头下面，打开它们冲了起来。 哈利很快发现每个水龙头流出来的泡沫都是不一样的，而且他从来没见过这么神奇的泡沫。一只水龙头流出来的泡泡是蓝色的或粉红色的，大得像一个个足球；另一只水龙头吐出来的泡沫像雪球；第三只水龙头流出的则是漂着紫烟的水。当浴池里的水快满时，哈利关掉所有水龙头，脱掉睡衣和拖鞋，滑了过去。 浴池很深，他的脚几乎探不到底，哈利快活地游来游去。回到边上时，他盯着蛋，可是还是毫无头绪。 哈利伸手拿过那只蛋打开，那悠扬的声音马上溢满了整个房间。但这次声音似乎不像以前那么压抑了。他又把蛋合上，担心吵声会吵醒弗尔克。突然，他把蛋一扔，蛋僻哩啪啦地在地上滚起来。这时，他听到有人说话。 “如果我是你的话，我就会把蛋放在水里。” 哈利吓得呛了一口水，他定睛一看，只见呜咽的米特——一个郁郁寡欢，经常在厕所里哭鼻子的女鬼——正交叉着腿坐在其中一个水龙头上。 “米特，”他生气地喊道，“我什么也没穿呢。” 虽然池里的泡沫很多，可他还是觉得自己一进来时就被偷看了。 “你进来的时候我眼睛是闭着的。”她说，“只是你一直没有看见我罢了。” “那好吧。”哈利稍稍地曲着腿，只露出头在水面，以防米特看见什么，“我不应该来这澡房的，是吗？这是女孩子用的。” “你向来都在这里洗的，而且你从来没在意过。”米特讽刺地说。 这倒是真的。哈利。罗恩和荷米恩有一段时间曾在米特的厕所喷多利药水。 “是别人叫我到这来的。不过我以后不会再来了。” “我明白了。”米特说，“不过，我宁愿把蛋放进水里试试看，像塞德里克做的那样。” “你也偷看他了？你怎么了？天天躲在这里偷看班长洗澡吗？” 哈利生气地说。 “偶尔罢了，但我从没跟谁说过话。” 当哈利站起来时，他叫米特转过身去，然后用那条毛巾把自己裹得严严实实，再拿过那只蛋。 “把蛋打开，放进水里。”米特说。 哈利照做了。紧接着，他听到蛋发出来的声音。这次声音完全不同，汩汩，汩汩，伴随着一些歌词，但哈利听不清。 “你也要潜进水里去。”米特说。 哈利深吸一口气，把头没入水中。这次，他终于听清它唱什么了：“沿着声音来找我们吧，在岸上我们不能歌唱，我们会偷去你最想念的东西，一小时后你会发现，然后就要跟我们交换。 一小时过后，一切消失。 太迟的话，一切都不复存在。“ 哈利听完后浮出水面，拨开贴在眼睛上面的头发，“听见它说什么了吧？”米特问道。 “是的，但我还要再听一遍。”说着，哈利再次潜进水里。 他又听了几遍，但没有马上浮出来，而是在水底下使劲想了一会儿。 “我要找一个在岸上不能说话的人。这个人是谁呢？” “你也太慢了吧。”米特浮出水面。 哈利浮出水面，看到米特高兴的样子。他把眼光移到别处，继续思考着会是谁。忽然，他目光落在墙上的美人鱼身上，“对了。 就是人鱼。米特，可世上不是没有人鱼吗？“ “太棒了，上次迪格瑞想了很久才想出来。” “一定是它，第二个任务就是去找湖里的人鱼。”哈利高兴极了。然而，当他一想到自己并不是个游泳好手时，哈利觉得好像被人往肚子上打了一拳。他几乎没有怎么练过游泳。小时候帕尤妮亚姨妈和维能姨丈因为怕他淹死，就没让他去学。在这浴池还可以勉强，但那湖可是又大又深的啊。而且人鱼又是住在湖底下的…… “米特，教教我该怎么在水里呼吸吧。”哈利说。 “你真会得罪人，居然跟我说呼吸。”米特说着哭起来了。 “对不起，我忘了你是……” “那当然，我很容易被忘记的，我活着时也没人会想起我。淹死后他们也花了很长一段时间才找到我的尸体。我当时坐在这等他们——” 哈利没有心思往下听，他继续想着下面的歌词，“你丢失的东西在我们这”这句是什么意思呢？大概是说，它们会来偷东西吗？ 它想偷什么呢？ “然后……所以我不得不住在厕所里——”米特喋喋不休。 “对，”哈利说，“我现在知道了……，嘿，转过身去好吗，我要上来了。” “你以后还会来看我吗？”米特依依不舍地问道。 “我尽量吧。”哈利说着披上隐身衣。“谢谢你的帮助，再见。” “再见。” 哈利又来到了走廊，他掏出地图，想看着走廊里是否还安全。 突然，他看见地图上有个点在移动。根据地图，他知道这是史纳皮的办公室。而且这个点显示出此人是巴地。克劳斯。 克劳斯不是病得上不了班吗？他在这里干吗？哈利看着那个点移来移去，这里停一下，那里停一下。 哈利决定探个究竟，他走下楼梯，摄手蹑脚地穿过走廊，然后又走下一段更窄的楼梯。他不停地注视着地图上的点，急切地想知道克劳斯半夜一点钟潜进别人办公室的原因。突然，哈利的脚踩空了，他一个趔趄，手里的金蛋滚了下来，哈利一看不妙，赶紧爬起来去追，可太迟了，蛋鸡鸣鸣地一级级滚下去。隐身衣在这时滑了下来，地图也飞了。 金蛋最后终于在地毯上停住，但它已经打开了，歌声回荡在整幢楼，哈利把隐身衣被上想要去拿地图，但他够不着，他竖着耳朵听着周围的动静，只听楼梯上响起了脚步声和叫喊声。“是皮维斯。”哈利想。不一会儿，皮维斯已站在他面前了。 “这是什么？吵得整幢楼的人都醒了。”他来到楼梯脚，这时弗尔克刚拿起金蛋把它合上。 “蛋？”弗尔克静静地说，“我的甜心，这可是一条重要线索呢。 它应该属于学校的冠军。“ 哈利心想糟糕。他怀里像有只兔子在扑通扑通地跳。 “皮维斯，你躲在哪里？我马上就会找到你的，哈，你居然敢偷东西。丹伯多要把你开除出校了……”弗尔克开始上楼，后面跟着他那只灰色的猫。它两只绿色的眼睛盯着哈利，哈利吓得混身冒汗，不知道隐身衣对猫管不管用。 “弗尔克？怎么回事？”史纳皮出现了，他看上去很生气。哈利更紧张了，因为史纳皮的出现会把事情弄得更糟。 “是皮维斯，是他把蛋从楼梯上扔下来的。”弗尔克得意地告状说。 “皮维斯？但他进不了我的办公室的。” “不，我是说，我听到响声，是那只蛋……是皮维斯把它扔下来的，我出来看看是怎么回事……” “我的办公室只有那些会魔法的人才能打开。”史纳皮往楼梯上看了看，目光正好穿过哈利。然后，他又往走廊扫了一眼，“过来帮我找找小偷。” “我？好的，教授，不过——” 弗尔克很不情愿地跟着教授上了楼，径直从哈利身边经过。 “快去吧，跟史纳皮教授上楼去吧。”哈利心里说。 “教授，”弗尔克悲哀地说，“校长这次会听我说的，皮维斯以前就偷过学生的东西，我觉得这次我有责任指证他。” “弗尔克，我不会指责一个只是骚扰家宅的幽灵的，只不过我的办公室在哐哐哐地响罢了。”史纳皮突然停下来说。这时，哈利看见魔眼人莫迪进来了。 “什么事？开睡衣晚会吗？”莫迪冲着他们嚷道。 “教授，史纳皮教授和我听到响声。这是皮维斯搞的鬼，他从楼梯上扔东西下来。结果史纳皮教授发现有人闯进了他办公室里。” 弗尔克说。 莫迪走近楼梯，哈利看见他目光停在史纳皮身上，然后不偏不倚地落在自己身上。 哈利的心“咯噔”一声，想起莫迪能看穿隐身衣，他们俩对视了几分钟，莫迪嘴巴张得大大的。然后，他转身对史纳皮说：“是真的吗？有人闯进你办公室里了？” “这并不值得大惊小怪。”史纳皮冷冷地说。 “不，恰好相反，这非常重要。是谁闯进办公室了。” “我敢说只是一个学生，他想拿点禁药罢了，没别的。”史纳皮说。 “就这样简单吗？”莫迪说，“你在办公室里没有藏其他东西吗？” “你知道我没有的。我的办公室早就被你搜遍了。”史纳皮眼看就要生气了。 莫迪笑着说：“这是我的权利，史纳皮，丹伯多吩咐我看着……” “丹伯多很信任我，我不会相信是他叫你这么做的。” “他当然信任你，他是个相信别人的人，可我——我说一定还有东西的，别的东西，你明白我的意思吗？” 史纳皮突然做了个很奇怪的动作。他用右手抓住左前臂，仿佛被人刺了一下。 莫迪又笑了：“回去睡吧，史纳皮。” “你没权指挥我去哪。我也可以像你一样天黑后在学校里走来走去。” “走开吧。”莫迪的语气充满威胁，“我等着在黑暗走廊撞见你的那一刻，顺便告诉你一声你掉了东西。”说着，莫迪把手指向那躺在地上的地图。 史纳皮和弗尔克顺着他手指方向看去。这时，哈利朝莫迪扬手，引他注意，嘴形告诉他：我的，那是我的。 莫迪会意了。可是史纳皮已经走过去把它拾起来了。莫迪念了句咒语，那地图就呼啸着从史纳皮手里飞到了莫迪手上。 “我弄错了，这是我的东西，一定是我早些时候把它丢在这了。”莫迪镇定地说。 但是史纳皮此时把蛋和地图联系起来，马上明白了。 “波特。”他平静地说。莫迪把纸折好放进口袋，同时问道：“你在说什么？” “波特。这蛋是他的，纸也是他的，我以前看见过。他现在一定穿着隐身衣站在某个角落。”史纳皮吼道。接着，他一边走上楼梯，一边伸出双手在空气中摸着，想找到哈利。哈利把身子直往后靠，想躲过史纳皮的手指。就在这时，史纳皮喊道：“这里没有别的了。不过我很快就会告诉校长你的心偏向哈利-波特了。” “你是什么意思？” “我是说校长会很有兴趣知道是谁给哈利这些东西的。” 史纳皮的手终于放下来了，他强作镇定地说：“我是怕波特在这里瞎逛，他有这个坏习惯。为了他自身安全，他应该改掉这毛病。” “噢，我明白了，你想利用哈利，是吗？” 他们瞪着对方都不说话了，最后史纳皮说：“我想我该回去睡觉了。 “这是你今晚最好的决定。现在，弗尔克，把那只蛋给我。”莫迪说。 “不，”弗尔克紧紧抱着那只蛋，像在抱着他自己的亲生儿子似的，“教授，这是皮维斯违背规则的证据。” “这是属于冠军的，快给我。” 史纳皮没有再说什么，弗尔克极不情愿地把蛋交给莫迪，两人就离开了。 门砰地一声关上，哈利盯着莫迪，只见他朝自己走来。 “刚才真是惊险。”莫迪说。 “是，是的，谢谢你，莫迪教授。”哈利疲惫地说。 “这是什么？”莫迪打开地图问道。 “霍格瓦彻的地图。” 莫迪看着地图，慢慢地说：“你刚才有没有看见是谁闯进史纲皮的办公室？我是说，从地图上来看。” “我看见了，是克劳斯先生。” “克劳斯？你肯定是他吗？” “我保证。” “克劳斯！真有趣！”莫迪继续盯着地图。 “莫迪教授，你是不是觉得事情跟……也许克劳斯先生察觉有事发生。” “例如什么呢？”莫迪尖锐地说。 哈利可不敢再说下去，他不想让莫迪发觉他知道霍格瓦彻以外的信息。要不然会给西里斯惹麻烦的。 “我不知道，但是已经有很多糟糕的事情发生了，不是吗？《先知日报》，黑色标志，世界杯，食尸者……”哈利喃喃自语。 “你很聪明。我再问你一个问题。”莫迪说。 哈利的心直往下沉。他想糟了，莫迪肯定是想问他地图从哪来。这可是牵涉一连串怪事的呢，可是，莫迪扬了扬地图说：“可以把他借给我吗？” 哈利悬着的心放下来，他松了一口气说：“可以。”然后莫迪带着他来到办公室门口，他把蛋还给哈利，说了声再见，两人就分开了。 哈利一路往回走，脑海还想着今晚发生的事，百思不得其解。 回到宿舍，哈利把蛋放进了皮箱里。 |
Chapter 24 Rita Skeeter's Scoop Everybody got up late on Boxing Day. The Gryffindor common room was much quieter than it had been lately, many yawns punctuating the lazy conversations. Hermione's hair was bushy again; she confessed to Harry that she had used liberal amounts of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion on it for the ball, “but it's way too much bother to do every day,” she said matter-of-factly, scratching a purring Crookshanks behind the ears. Ron and Hermione seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement not to discuss their argument. They were being quite friendly to each other, though oddly formal. Ron and Harry wasted no time in telling Hermione about the conversation they had overheard between Madame Maxime and Hagrid, but Hermione didn't seem to find the news that Hagrid was a half-giant nearly as shocking as Ron did. “Well, I thought he must be,” she said, shrugging. “I knew he couldn't be pure giant because they're about twenty feet tall. But honestly, all this hysteria about giants. They can't all be horrible.…It's the same sort of prejudice that people have toward werewolves.…It's just bigotry, isn't it?” Ron looked as though he would have liked to reply scathingly, but perhaps he didn't want another row, because he contented himself with shaking his head disbelievingly while Hermione wasn't looking. It was time now to think of the homework they had neglected during the first week of the holidays. Everybody seemed to be feeling rather flat now that Christmas was over - everybody except Harry, that is, who was starting (once again) to feel slightly nervous. The trouble was that February the twenty-fourth looked a lot closer from this side of Christmas, and he still hadn't done anything about working out the clue inside the golden egg. He therefore started taking the egg out of his trunk every time he went up to the dormitory, opening it, and listening intently, hoping that this time it would make some sense. He strained to think what the sound reminded him of, apart from thirty musical saws, but he had never heard anything else like it. He closed the egg, shook it vigorously, and opened it again to see if the sound had changed, but it hadn't. He tried asking the egg questions, shouting over all the wailing, but nothing happened. He even threw the egg across the room - though he hadn't really expected that to help. Harry had not forgotten the hint that Cedric had given him, but his less-than-friendly feelings toward Cedric just now meant that he was keen not to take his help if he could avoid it. In any case, it seemed to him that if Cedric had really wanted to give Harry a hand, he would have been a lot more explicit. He, Harry, had told Cedric exactly what was coming in the first task - and Cedric's idea of a fair exchange had been to tell Harry to take a bath. Well, he didn't need that sort of rubbishy help - not from someone who kept walking down corridors hand in hand with Cho, anyway. And so the first day of the new term arrived, and Harry set off to lessons, weighed down with books, parchment, and quills as usual, but also with the lurking worry of the egg heavy in his stomach, as though he were carrying that around with him too. Snow was still thick upon the grounds, and the greenhouse windows were covered in condensation so thick that they couldn't see out of them in Herbology. Nobody was looking forward to Care of Magical Creatures much in this weather, though as Ron said, the skrewts would probably warm them up nicely, either by chasing them, or blasting off so forcefully that Hagrid's cabin would catch fire. When they arrived at Hagrid ‘s cabin, however, they found an elderly witch with closely cropped gray hair and a very prominent chin standing before his front door. “Hurry up, now, the bell rang five minutes ago,” she barked at them as they struggled toward her through the snow. “Who're you?” said Ron, staring at her. “Where's Hagrid?” “My name is Professor Grubbly-Plank,” she said briskly. “I am your temporary Care of Magical Creatures teacher.” “Where's Hagrid?” Harry repeated loudly. “He is indisposed,” said Professor Grubbly-Plank shortly. Soft and unpleasant laughter reached Harry's ears. He turned; Draco Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins were joining the class. All of them looked gleeful, and none of them looked surprised to see Professor Grubbly-Plank. “This way, please,” said Professor Grubbly-Plank, and she strode off around the paddock where the Beauxbatons horses were shivering. Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed her, looking back over their shoulders at Hagrid's cabin. All the curtains were closed. Was Hagrid in there, alone and ill? “What's wrong with Hagrid?” Harry said, hurrying to catch up with Professor Grubbly-Plank. “Never you mind,” she said as though she thought he was being nosy. “I do mind, though,” said Harry hotly. “What's up with him?” Professor Grubbly-Plank acted as though she couldn't hear him. She led them past the paddock where the huge Beauxbatons horses were standing, huddled against the cold, and toward a tree on the edge of the forest, where a large and beautiful unicorn was tethered. Many of the girls “ooooohed!” at the sight of the unicorn. “Oh it's so beautiful!” whispered Lavender Brown. “How did she get it? They're supposed to be really hard to catch!” The unicorn was so brightly white it made the snow all around look gray. It was pawing the ground nervously with its golden hooves and throwing back its horned head. “Boys keep back!” barked Professor Grubbly-Plank, throwing out an arm and catching Harry hard in the chest. “They prefer the woman's touch, unicorns. Girls to the front, and approach with care, come on, easy does it.…” She and the girls walked slowly forward toward the unicorn, leaving the boys standing near the paddock fence, watching. The moment Professor Grubbly-Plank was out of earshot. Harry turned to Ron. “What d'you reckons wrong with him? You don't think a skrewt -?” “Oh he hasn't been attacked, Potter, if that's what you're thinking,” said Malfoy softly. “No, he's just too ashamed to show his big, ugly face.” “What d'you mean?” said Harry sharply. Malfoy put his hand inside the pocket of his robes and pulled out a folded page of newsprint. “There you go,” he said. “Hate to break it to you. Potter.…” He smirked as Harry snatched the page, unfolded it, and read it, with Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville looking over his shoulder. It was an article topped with a picture of Hagrid looking extremely shifty. DUMBLEDORE'S GIANT MISTAKE Albus Dumbledore, eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has never been afraid to make controversial staff appointments, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. In September of this year, he hired Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody, the notoriously jinx-happy ex-Auror, to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, a decision that caused many raised eyebrows at the Ministry of Magic, given Moody's well-known habit of attacking anybody who makes a sudden movement in his presence. Mad-Eye Moody, however, looks responsible and kindly when set beside the part-human Dumbledore employs to teach Care of Magical Creatures. Rubeus Hagrid, who admits to being expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, has enjoyed the position of gamekeeper at the school ever since, a job secured for him by Dumbledore. Last year, however, Hagrid used his mysterious influence over the headmaster to secure the additional post of Care of Magical Creatures teacher, over the heads of many better-qualified candidates. An alarmingly large and ferocious-looking man, Hagrid has been using his newfound authority to terrify the students in his care with a succession of horrific creatures. While Dumbledore turns a blind eye, Hagrid has maimed several pupils during a series of lessons that many admit to being “very frightening.” ‘I was attacked by a hippogriff, and my friend Vincent Crabbe got a bad bite off a flobberworm,” says Draco Malfoy, a fourth-year student. “We all hate Hagrid, but we're just too scared to say anything.” Hagrid has no intention of ceasing his campaign of intimidation, however. In conversation with a Daily Prophet reporter last month, he admitted breeding creatures he has dubbed “Blast-Ended Skrewts,” highly dangerous crosses between manti-cores and fire-crabs. The creation of new breeds of magical creature is, of course, an activity usually closely observed by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Hagrid, however, considers himself to be above such petty restrictions. “I was just having some fun,” he says, before hastily changing the subject. As if this were not enough, the Daily Prophet has now unearthed evidence that Hagrid is not - as he has always pretended - a pure-blood wizard. He is not, in fact, even pure human. His mother, we can exclusively reveal, is none other than the giantess Fridwulfa, whose whereabouts are currently unknown. Bloodthirsty and brutal, the giants brought themselves to the point of extinction by warring amongst themselves during the last century. The handful that remained joined the ranks of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and were responsible for some of the worst mass Muggle killings of his reign of terror. While many of the giants who served He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were killed by Aurors working against the Dark Side, Fridwulfa was not among them. It is possible she escaped to one of the giant communities still existing in foreign mountain ranges. If his antics during Care of Magical Creatures lessons are any guide, however, Frid-wulfa's son appears to have inherited her brutal nature. In a bizarre twist, Hagrid is reputed to have developed a close friendship with the boy who brought around You-Know-Who's fall from power - thereby driving Hagrid's own mother, like the rest of You-Know-Who's supporters, into hiding. Perhaps Harry Potter is unaware of the unpleasant truth about his large friend - but Albus Dumbledore surely has a duty to ensure that Harry Potter, along with his fellow students, is warned about the dangers of associating with part-giants. Harry finished reading and looked up at Ron, whose mouth was hanging open. “How did she find out?” he whispered. But that wasn't what was bothering Harry. “What d'you mean, ‘we all hate Hagrid'?” Harry spat at Malfoy. “What's this rubbish about him” - he pointed at Crabbe - “getting a bad bite off a flobberworm? They haven't even got teeth!” Crabbe was sniggering, apparently very pleased with himself. “Well, I think this should put an end to the oaf's teaching career,” said Malfoy, his eyes glinting. “Half-giant…and there was me thinking he'd just swallowed a bottle of Skele-Gro when he was young.…None of the mummies and daddies are going to like this at all.…They'll be worried he'll eat their kids, ha, ha.…” “You -” “Are you paying attention over there?” Professor Grubbly-Planks voice carried over to the boys; the girls were all clustered around the unicorn now, stroking it. Harry was so angry that the Daily Prophet article shook in his hands as he turned to stare unseeingly at the unicorn, whose many magical properties Professor Grubbly-Plank was now enumerating in a loud voice, so that the boys could hear too. “I hope she stays, that woman!” said Parvati Patil when the lesson had ended and they were all heading back to the castle for lunch. “That's more what I thought Care of Magical Creatures would be like…proper creatures like unicorns, not monsters.…” “What about Hagrid?” Harry said angrily as they went up the steps. “What about him?” said Parvati in a hard voice. “He can still be gamekeeper, can't he?” Parvati had been very cool toward Harry since the ball. He supposed that he ought to have paid her a bit more attention, but she seemed to have had a good time all the same. She was certainly telling anybody who would listen that she had made arrangements to meet the boy from Beauxbatons in Hogsmeade on the next weekend trip. “That was a really good lesson,” said Hermione as they entered the Great Hall. “I didn't know half the things Professor Grubbly-Plank told us about uni -” “Look at this!” Harry snarled, and he shoved the Daily Prophet article under Hermione's nose. Hermione's mouth fell open as she read. Her reaction was exactly the same as Ron's. “How did that horrible Skeeter woman find out? You don't think Hagrid told her?” “No,” said Harry, leading the way over to the Gryffindor table and throwing himself into a chair, furious. “He never even told us, did he? I reckon she was so mad he wouldn't give her loads of horrible stuff about me, she went ferreting around to get him back.” “Maybe she heard him telling Madame Maxime at the ball,” said Hermione quietly. “We'd have seen her in the garden!” said Ron. “Anyway, she's not supposed to come into school anymore, Hagrid said Dumbledore banned her.…” “Maybe she's got an Invisibility Cloak,” said Harry, ladling chicken casserole onto his plate and splashing it everywhere in his anger. “Sort of thing she'd do, isn't it, hide in bushes listening to people.” “Like you and Ron did, you mean,” said Hermione. “We weren't trying to hear him!” said Ron indignantly. “We didn't have any choice! The stupid prat, talking about his giantess mother where anyone could have heard him!” “We've got to go and see him,” said Harry. “This evening, after Divination. Tell him we want him back…you do want him back?” he shot at Hermione. “I - well, I'm not going to pretend it didn't make a nice change, having a proper Care of Magical Creatures lesson for once - but I do want Hagrid back, of course I do!” Hermione added hastily, quailing under Harry's furious stare. So that evening after dinner, the three of them left the castle once more and went down through the frozen grounds to Hagrid's cabin. They knocked, and Fang's booming barks answered. “Hagrid, it's us!” Harry shouted, pounding on the door. “Open up!” Hagrid didn't answer. They could hear Fang scratching at the door, whining, but it didn't open. They hammered on it for ten more minutes; Ron even went and banged on one of the windows, but there was no response. “What's he avoiding us for?” Hermione said when they had finally given up and were walking back to the school. “He surely doesn't think we'd care about him being half-giant?” But it seemed that Hagrid did care. They didn't see a sign of him all week. He didn't appear at the staff table at mealtimes, they didn't see him going about his gamekeeper duties on the grounds, and Professor Grubbly-Plank continued to take the Care of Magical Creatures classes. Malfoy was gloating at every possible opportunity. “Missing your half-breed pal?” he kept whispering to Harry whenever there was a teacher around, so that he was safe from Harry's retaliation. “Missing the elephant-man?” There was a Hogsmeade visit halfway through January. Hermione was very surprised that Harry was going to go. “I just thought you'd want to take advantage of the common room being quiet,” she said. “Really get to work on that egg.” “Oh I - I reckon I've got a pretty good idea what it's about now,” Harry lied. “Have you really?” said Hermione, looking impressed. “Well done!” Harry's insides gave a guilty squirm, but he ignored them. He still had five weeks to work out that egg clue, after all, and that was ages…whereas if he went into Hogsmeade, he might run into Hagrid, and get a chance to persuade him to come back. He, Ron, and Hermione left the castle together on Saturday and set off through the cold, wet grounds toward the gates. As they passed the Durmstrang ship moored in the lake, they saw Viktor Krum emerge onto the deck, dressed in nothing but swimming trunks. He was very skinny indeed, but apparently a lot tougher than he looked, because he climbed up onto the side of the ship, stretched out his arms, and dived, right into the lake. “He's mad!” said Harry, staring at Krum's dark head as it bobbed out into the middle of the lake. “It must be freezing, it's January!” “It's a lot colder where he comes from,” said Hermione. “I suppose it feels quite warm to him.” “Yeah, but there's still the giant squid,” said Ron. He didn't sound anxious - if anything, he sounded hopeful. Hermione noticed his tone of voice and frowned. “He's really nice, you know,” she said. “He's not at all like you'd think, coming from Durmstrang. He likes it much better here, he told me.” Ron said nothing. He hadn't mentioned Viktor Krum since the ball, but Harry had found a miniature arm under his bed on Boxing Day, which had looked very much as though it had been snapped off a small model figure wearing Bulgarian Quidditch robes. Harry kept his eyes skinned for a sign of Hagrid all the way down the slushy High Street, and suggested a visit to the Three Broomsticks once he had ascertained that Hagrid was not in any of the shops. The pub was as crowded as ever, but one quick look around at all the tables told Harry that Hagrid wasn't there. Heart sinking, he went up to the bar with Ron and Hermione, ordered three butterbeers from Madam Rosmerta, and thought gloomily that he might just as well have stayed behind and listened to the egg wailing after all. “Doesn't he ever go into the office?” Hermione whispered suddenly. “Look!” She pointed into the mirror behind the bar, and Harry saw Ludo Bagman reflected there, sitting in a shadowy corner with a bunch of goblins. Bagman was talking very fast in a low voice to the goblins, all of whom had their arms crossed and were looking rather menacing. It was indeed odd. Harry thought, that Bagman was here at the Three Broomsticks on a weekend when there was no Triwizard event, and therefore no judging to be done. He watched Bagman in the mirror. He was looking strained again, quite as strained as he had that night in the forest before the Dark Mark had appeared. But just then Bagman glanced over at the bar, saw Harry, and stood up. “In a moment, in a moment!” Harry heard him say brusquely to the goblins, and Bagman hurried through the pub toward Harry, his boyish grin back in place. “Harry!” he said. “How are you? Been hoping to run into you! Everything going all right?” “Fine, thanks,” said Harry. “Wonder if I could have a quick, private word, Harry?” said Bagman eagerly. “You couldn't give us a moment, you two, could you?” “Er - okay,” said Ron, and he and Hermione went off to find a table. Bagman led Harry along the bar to the end furthest from Madam Rosmerta. “Well, I just thought I'd congratulate you again on your splendid performance against that Horntail, Harry,” said Bagman. “Really superb.” “Thanks,” said Harry, but he knew this couldn't be all that Bagman wanted to say, because he could have congratulated Harry in front of Ron and Hermione. Bagman didn't seem in any particular rush to spill the beans, though. Harry saw him glance into the mirror over the bar at the goblins, who were all watching him and Harry in silence through their dark, slanting eyes. “Absolute nightmare,” said Bagman to Harry in an undertone, noticing Harry watching the goblins too. “Their English isn't too good…it's like being back with all the Bulgarians at the Quidditch World Cup…but at least they used sign language another human could recognize. This lot keep gabbling in Gobblede-gook…and I only know one word of Gobbledegook. Bladvak. It means ‘pickax.’ I don't like to use it in case they think I'm threatening them.” He gave a short, booming laugh. “What do they want?” Harry said, noticing how the goblins were still watching Bagman very closely. “Er - well…” said Bagman, looking suddenly nervous. “They…er…they're looking for Barty Crouch.” “Why are they looking for him here?” said Harry. “He's at the Ministry in London, isn't he?” “Er…as a matter of fact, I've no idea where he is,” said Bagman. “He's sort of…stopped coming to work. Been absent for a couple of weeks now. Young Percy, his assistant, says he's ill. Apparently he's just been sending instructions in by owl. But would you mind not mentioning that to anyone. Harry? Because Rita Skeeter's still poking around everywhere she can, and I'm willing to bet she'd work up Bartys illness into something sinister. Probably say he's gone missing like Bertha Jorkins.” “Have you heard anything about Bertha Jorkins?” Harry asked. “No,” said Bagman, looking strained again. “I've got people looking, of course…” (About time, thought Harry) “and it's all very strange. She definitely arrived in Albania, because she met her second cousin there. And then she left the cousin's house to go south and see an aunt…and she seems to have vanished without trace en route. Blowed if I can see where she's got to…she doesn't seem the type to elope, for instance…but still.…What are we doing, talking about goblins and Bertha Jorkins? I really wanted to ask you” - he lowered his voice - “how are you getting on with your golden egg?” “Er…not bad,” Harry said untruthfully. Bagman seemed to know he wasn't being honest. “Listen, Harry,” he said (still in a very low voice), “I feel very bad about all this…you were thrown into this tournament, you didn't volunteer for it…and if…” (his voice was so quiet now, Harry had to lean closer to listen) “if I can help at all…a prod in the right direction…I've taken a liking to you…the way you got past that dragon!…well, just say the word.” Harry stared up into Bagman's round, rosy face and his wide, baby-blue eyes. “We're supposed to work out the clues alone, aren't we?” he said, careful to keep his voice casual and not sound as though he was accusing the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports of breaking the rules. “Well…well, yes,” said Bagman impatiently, “but - come on. Harry - we all want a Hogwarts victory, don't we?” “Have you offered Cedric help?” Harry said. The smallest of frowns creased Bagman's smooth face. “No, I haven't,” he said. “I - well, like I say, I've taken a liking to you. Just thought I'd offer…” “Well, thanks,” said Harry, “but I think I'm nearly there with the egg…couple more days should crack it.” He wasn't entirely sure why he was refusing Bagman's help, except that Bagman was almost a stranger to him, and accepting his assistance would feel somehow much more like cheating than asking advice from Ron, Hermione, or Sirius. Bagman looked almost affronted, but couldn't say much more as Fred and George turned up at that point. “Hello, Mr. Bagman,” said Fred brightly. “Can we buy you a drink?” “Er…no,” said Bagman, with a last disappointed glance at Harry, “no, thank you, boys…” Fred and George looked quite as disappointed as Bagman, who was surveying Harry as though he had let him down badly. “Well, I must dash,” he said. “Nice seeing you all. Good luck, Harry.” He hurried out of the pub. The goblins all slid off their chairs and exited after him. Harry went to rejoin Ron and Hermione. “What did he want?” Ron said, the moment Harry had sat down. “He offered to help me with the golden egg,” said Harry. “He shouldn't be doing that!” said Hermione, looking very shocked. “He's one of the judges! And anyway, you've already worked it out - haven't you?” “Er…nearly,” said Harry. “Well, I don't think Dumbledore would like it if he knew Bagman was trying to persuade you to cheat!” said Hermione, still looking deeply disapproving. “I hope he's trying to help Cedric as much!” “He's not, I asked,” said Harry. “Who cares if Diggory's getting help?” said Ron. Harry privately agreed. “Those goblins didn't look very friendly,” said Hermione, sipping her butterbeer. “What were they doing here?” “Looking for Crouch, according to Bagman,” said Harry. “He's still ill. Hasn't been into work.” “Maybe Percy's poisoning him,” said Ron. “Probably thinks if Crouch snuffs it he'll be made head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.” Hermione gave Ron a don't-joke-about-things-like-that look, and said, “Funny, goblins looking for Mr. Crouch.…They'd normally deal with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.” “Crouch can speak loads of different languages, though,” said Harry. “Maybe they need an interpreter.” “Worrying about poor ‘ickle goblins, now, are you?” Ron asked Hermione. “Thinking of starting up S.P.U.G. or something? Society for the Protection of Ugly Goblins?” “Ha, ha, ha,” said Hermione sarcastically. “Goblins don't need protection. Haven't you been listening to what Professor Binns has been telling us about goblin rebellions?” “No,” said Harry and Ron together. “Well, the're quite capable of dealing with wizards,” said Hermione, taking another sip of butterbeer. “They're very clever. They're not like house-elves, who never stick up for themselves.” “Uh-oh,” said Ron, staring at the door. Rita Skeeter had just entered. She was wearing banana-yellow robes today; her long nails were painted shocking pink, and she was accompanied by her paunchy photographer. She bought drinks, and she and the photographer made their way through the crowds to a table nearby. Harry, Ron, and Hermione glaring at her as she approached. She was talking fast and looking very satisfied about something. “…didn't seem very keen to talk to us, did he, Bozo? Now, why would that be, do you think? And what's he doing with a pack of goblins in tow anyway? Showing them the sights…what nonsense…he was always a bad liar. Reckon something's up? Think we should do a bit of digging? ‘Disgraced Ex-Head of Magical Games and Sports, Ludo Bagman…’ Snappy start to a sentence, Bozo - we just need to find a story to fit it -” “Trying to ruin someone else's life?” said Harry loudly. A few people looked around. Rita Skeeter's eyes widened behind her jeweled spectacles as she saw who had spoken. “Harry!” she said, beaming. “How lovely! Why don't you come and join-?” “I wouldn't come near you with a ten-foot broomstick,” said Harry furiously. “What did you do that to Hagrid for, eh?” Rita Skeeter raised her heavily penciled eyebrows. “Our readers have a right to the truth, Harry. I am merely doing my-” “Who cares if he's half-giant?” Harry shouted. “There's nothing wrong with him!” The whole pub had gone very quiet. Madam Rosmerta was staring over from behind the bar, apparently oblivious to the fact that the flagon she was filling with mead was overflowing. Rita Skeeter's smile flickered very slightly, but she hitched it back almost at once; she snapped open her crocodile-skin handbag, pulled out her Quick-Quotes Quill, and said, “How about giving me an interview about the Hagrid you know. Harry? The man behind the muscles? Your unlikely friendship and the reasons behind it. Would you call him a father substitute?” Hermione stood up very abruptly, her butterbeer clutched in her hand as though it were a grenade. “You horrible woman,” she said, through gritted teeth, “you don't care, do you, anything for a story, and anyone will do, wont they? Even Ludo Bagman -” “Sit down, you silly little girl, and don't talk about things you don't understand,” said Rita Skeeter coldly, her eyes hardening as they fell on Hermione. “I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl…not that it needs it -” she added, eyeing Hermione's bushy hair. “Let's go,” said Hermione, “c'mon. Harry - Ron…” They left; many people were staring at them as they went. Harry glanced back as they reached the door. Rita Skeeter's Quick-Quotes Quill was out; it was zooming backward and forward over a piece of parchment on the table. “She'll be after you next, Hermione,” said Ron in a low and worried voice as they walked quickly back up the street. “Let her try!” said Hermione defiantly; she was shaking with rage. “I'll show her! Silly little girl, am I? Oh, I'll get her back for this. First Harry, then Hagrid…” “You don't want to go upsetting Rita Skeeter,” said Ron nervously. “I'm serious, Hermione, she'll dig up something on you -” “My parents don't read the Daily Prophet. She can't scare me into hiding!” said Hermione, now striding along so fast that it was all Harry and Ron could do to keep up with her. The last time Harry had seen Hermione in a rage like this, she had hit Draco Malfoy around the face. “And Hagrid isn't hiding anymore! He should never have let that excuse for a human being upset him! Come on!” Breaking into a run, she led them all the way back up the road, through the gates flanked by winged boars, and up through the grounds to Hagrid's cabin. The curtains were still drawn, and they could hear Fang barking as they approached. “Hagrid!” Hermione shouted, pounding on his front door. “Hagrid, that's enough! We know you're in there! Nobody cares if your mum was a giantess, Hagrid! You can't let that foul Skeeter woman do this to you! Hagrid, get out here, you're just being -” The door opened. Hermione said, “About it-!” and then stopped, very suddenly, because she had found herself face-to-face, not with Hagrid, but with Albus Dumbledore. “Good afternoon,” he said pleasantly, smiling down at them. “We er we wanted to see Hagrid,” said Hermione in a rather small voice. “Yes, I surmised as much,” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. “Why don't you come in?” “Oh…um…okay,” said Hermione. She, Ron, and Harry went into the cabin; Fang launched himself upon Harry the moment he entered, barking madly and trying to lick his ears. Harry fended off Fang and looked around. Hagrid was sitting at his table, where there were two large mugs of tea. He looked a real mess. His face was blotchy, his eyes swollen, and he had gone to the other extreme where his hair was concerned; far from trying to make it behave, it now looked like a wig of tangled wire. “Hi, Hagrid,” said Harry. Hagrid looked up. “'Lo,” he said in a very hoarse voice. “More tea, I think,” said Dumbledore, closing the door behind Harry, Ron, and Hermione, drawing out his wand, and twiddling it; a revolving tea tray appeared in midair along with a plate of cakes. Dumbledore magicked the tray onto the table, and everybody sat down. There was a slight pause, and then Dumbledore said, “Did you by any chance hear what Miss Granger was shouting, Hagrid?” Hermione went slightly pink, but Dumbledore smiled at her and continued, “Hermione, Harry, and Ron still seem to want to know you, judging by the way they were attempting to break down the door.” “Of course we still want to know you!” Harry said, staring at Hagrid. “You don't think anything that Skeeter cow - sorry, Professor,” he added quickly, looking at Dumbledore. “I have gone temporarily deaf and haven't any idea what you said. Harry,” said Dumbledore, twiddling his thumbs and staring at the ceiling. “Er-right,” said Harry sheepishly. “I just meant-Hagrid, how could you think we'd care what that-woman-wrote about you?” Two fat tears leaked out of Hagrid's beetle-black eyes and fell slowly into his tangled beard. “Living proof of what I've been telling you, Hagrid,” said Dumbledore, still looking carefully up at the ceiling. “I have shown you the letters from the countless parents who remember you from their own days here, telling me in no uncertain terms that if I sacked you, they would have something to say about it -” “Not all of ‘em,” said Hagrid hoarsely. “Not all of ‘em wan me ter stay.” “Really, Hagrid, if you are holding out for universal popularity, I'm afraid you will be in this cabin for a very long time,” said Dumbledore, now peering sternly over his half-moon spectacles. “Not a week has passed since I became headmaster of this school when I haven't had at least one owl complaining about the way I run it. But what should I do? Barricade myself in my study and refuse to talk to anybody?” “Yeh - yeh're not half-giant!” said Hagrid croakily. “Hagrid, look what I've got for relatives!” Harry said furiously. “Look at the Dursleys!” “An excellent point,” said Professor Dumbledore. “My own brother, Aberforth, was prosecuted for practicing inappropriate charms on a goat. It was all over the papers, but did Aberforth hide? No, he did not! He held his head high and went about his business as usual! Of course, I'm not entirely sure he can read, so that may not have been bravery….” “Come back and teach, Hagrid,” said Hermione quietly, “please come back, we really miss you.” Hagrid gulped. More tears leaked out down his cheeks and into his tangled beard. Dumbledore stood up. “I refuse to accept your resignation, Hagrid, and I expect you back at work on Monday,” he said. “You will join me for breakfast at eight-thirty in the Great Hall. No excuses. Good afternoon to you all.” Dumbledore left the cabin, pausing only to scratch Fangs ears. When the door had shut behind him, Hagrid began to sob into his dustbin-lid-sized hands. Hermione kept patting his arm, and at last, Hagrid looked up, his eyes very red indeed, and said, “Great man, Dumbledore…great man.…” “Yeah, he is,” said Ron. “Can I have one of these cakes, Hagrid?” “Help yerself,” said Hagrid, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. “Ar, he's righ', o’ course - yeh're all righ'…I bin stupid…my ol’ dad woulda bin ashamed o’ the way I've bin behavin'.…” More tears leaked out, but he wiped them away more forcefully, and said, “Never shown you a picture of my old dad, have I? Here…” Hagrid got up, went over to his dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled out a picture of a short wizard with Hagrid's crinkled black eyes, beaming as he sat on top of Hagrid's shoulder. Hagrid was a good seven or eight feet tall, judging by the apple tree beside him, but his face was beardless, young, round, and smooth - he looked hardly older than eleven. “Tha was taken jus’ after I got inter Hogwarts,” Hagrid croaked. “Dad was dead chuffed…thought I migh’ not be a wizard, see, ‘cos me mum…well, anyway. ‘Course, I never was great shakes at magic, really…but at least he never saw me expelled. Died, see, in me second year.…” “Dumbledore was the one who stuck up for me after Dad went. Got me the gamekeeper job…trusts people, he does. Gives ‘em second chances…tha's what sets him apar’ from other heads, see. He'll accept anyone at Hogwarts, s'long as they've got the talent. Knows people can turn out okay even if their families weren'…well…all tha’ respectable. But some don understand that. There's some who'd always hold it against yeh…there's some who'd even pretend they just had big bones rather than stand up an’ say - I am what I am, an’ I'm not ashamed. ‘Never be ashamed,’ my ol’ dad used ter say, ‘there's some who'll hold it against you, but they're not worth botherin’ with.’ An’ he was right. I've bin an idiot. I'm not botherin’ with her no more, I promise yeh that. Big bones…I'll give her big bones.” Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another nervously; Harry would rather have taken fifty Blast-Ended Skrewts for a walk than admit to Hagrid that he had overheard him talking to Madame Maxime, but Hagrid was still talking, apparently unaware that he had said anything odd. “Yeh know wha, Harry?” he said, looking up from the photograph of his father, his eyes very bright, “when I firs’ met you, you reminded me o’ me a bit. Mum an’ Dad gone, an’ you was feelin’ like yeh wouldn’ fit in at Hogwarts, remember? Not sure yeh were really up to it…an’ now look at yeh, Harry! School champion!” He looked at Harry for a moment and then said, very seriously, “Yeh know what I'd love. Harry? I'd love yeh ter win, I really would. It'd show ‘em all…yeh don’ have ter be pureblood ter do it. Yeh don have ter be ashamed of what yeh are. It'd show ‘em Dumbledore's the one who's got it righ', lettin’ anyone in as long as they can do magic. How you doin’ with that egg, Harry?” “Great,” said Harry. “Really great.” Hagrid's miserable face broke into a wide, watery smile. “Tha's my boy…you show ‘em, Harry, you show ‘em. Beat ‘em all.” Lying to Hagrid wasn't quite like lying to anyone else. Harry went back to the castle later that afternoon with Ron and Hermione, unable to banish the image of the happy expression on Hagrid's whiskery face as he had imagined Harry winning the tournament. The incomprehensible egg weighed more heavily than ever on Harry's conscience that evening, and by the time he had got into bed, he had made up his mind - it was time to shelve his pride and see if Cedric's hint was worth anything. 第二四章 理特-史姬特的新闻报道 到了第二天，所有的人都起得很晚。格林芬顿大房间里来也静了下来，那些无精打采的谈话不时地被哈欠打断。荷米恩的头发又乱得像草丛，她向哈利解释说为了参加舞会，她用了大量的定型发水，但如果每天都这样做的话就太麻烦了。她一边说一边把一卷发拨到耳后。 罗恩和荷米恩此时似乎心领神会，谁也不再争吵了。虽然之前他们相处得一团糟，但现在两人对彼此都很友好。一见到荷米恩，罗恩和哈利就抢着告诉她两人偷听到的玛西姆夫人和哈格力的谈话。然而荷米恩听到哈格力是半个巨人时，她似乎并不像罗恩那样惊奇。 “既然这样，我想他一定是吧。”她耸耸肩说，“我知道他一定不是个真正的巨人，因为他们有二十英尺。不过说实话，这些巨人的歇斯底里不会全都是那么可怕的，这只不过是人们的偏见罢了，就好像他们对在月圆之夜会变狼的人的偏见一样，对吗？” 罗恩似乎想给她苛刻的反驳，但他觉得摇头就足以表达他的不赞同了，所以就没说什么，可能他不想引起另一场争吵吧。 眼看二月二十四日一天天地逼近，可他却没能从金蛋里找到半点线索。每当他走进宿舍，他就把金蛋从大皮箱里拿出来打开，全神贯注地看着它，心里希望会有一点头绪。他使劲地回想除了这三十种像音乐般拉扯的声音，是否还有别的声音，但是，什么也听不到。无奈，他只好把蛋合上，用力摇一遍后再打开，想要找出声音的变化。他还试着大声提问金蛋，又哭又喊，可是一点作用也没有。他甚至把蛋在屋里扔来扔去，虽然他并不希望这样做会有一点点帮助。 哈利没有忘记塞德里克给他的忠告。不过，只要可以不用，哈利是不会接受塞德里克的忠告的，因为他不怎么喜欢塞德里克。无论如何，如果塞德里克真的想帮他的话，就应该把话说清楚一点。 他，哈利，早就告诉塞德里克第一个任务将会有些什么了。可是塞德里克以要求哈利洗一个澡作交换的条件。哼，他才不要一个老是和卓牵着手在走廊里荡来荡去的人的忠告呢。不知不觉，新学期又到了。哈利像往常一样，背着重重的书、羊皮纸和笔上学，不过，那只蛋的问题还是缠着他，像那些书、纸一样沉沉地压在他身上。 大地上的积雪依然很厚，温室的窗全都蒙上了一层水蒸气，从草药室往外看，什么也看不到。罗恩没有去注意听魔法生灵的保护这门课，而是注意天气去了。 当他们走到哈格力的小屋时，他们看见一个披着浓密友发，下巴凸出的老巫婆站在小屋的前门。 当他们艰难地在雪地里一步步地向她走过去时，那女人大声地吼道：“快点，铃在五分钟以前就响过了。” “你是谁？”罗恩瞪着她说，“哈格力哪去了？” “我是格兰比。朋克教授，”她简短地说，“是暂时教你们魔法动物保护的老师。” “哈格力去哪了？”荷米恩大声地重复了一遍。 “他身体不舒服。”格兰比。朋克教授说。 一阵令人讨厌的笑声传到荷米恩耳朵里，他一转身，看到杰高。马尔夫和史林德林的其他学生正走过来。看到格兰比。朋克教授，他们一点也不感到奇怪，反而看上去还很高兴。 “走这边。”格兰比。朋克教授带着他们绕过小围场。那里有几匹比尔贝顿马在冷得打颤。哈利、罗恩和荷米恩一边跟着她，一边回过头来望着哈格力的小屋。小屋所有的窗帘都拉下了。哈格力在里面吗？他是病了还是一个人在里面呢？ “哈格力生了什么病？”哈利赶上格兰比。朋克教授问道。 “这个你不用管。”她说，看上去她觉得哈利很烦人。 “我要管。”哈利热切地说，“他到底是怎么了？” 格兰比。朋克教授装作没听见，她领着他们走过小围场，围场里的比克斯贝克顿斯马正在树林边上的一棵树下挤在一起取暖，在那棵树下，拴着一只美丽的独角兽。 女孩们看到那只独角兽，都“哇嘿”、“哇嘿”地叫起来。 “啊，它多漂亮啊！”莱文敦。布朗喃喃自语地说，“她是怎样逮到这只独角兽的呢！要知道，它们可是很难逮的呀！” 那独角兽白得如此耀眼，以至于周围的雪在它的对照下看起来像灰色了。它用金色的蹄子紧张地踏着土地，长着角的头不屈地甩来甩去。 “男孩们都回来！”格兰比。朋克教授大声喊道，伸出手一把抓住哈利。“独角兽喜欢女性摸它们，女孩子们走上前去，小心点。 来，别紧张。“ 她和女孩们慢慢地靠近独角兽，留下一群男孩站在围场的篱笆旁瞪眼看着。 正在这个时候，哈利转身对罗恩说：“你估计他发生了什么事呢？你不会认为是一个史库斯——？” “噢，他没有被人袭击，并非像你想的那样。”马尔夫轻轻地说，“他只不过是为他那张又大又丑的脸感到羞耻，不敢出现见人罢了。” “这话是什么意思。”哈利尖声说。 马尔夫把手伸进罩衫口袋里，摸出一张折好的剪报。 “看这个，”他说，“我不想向你透露的，波特……” 他得意地笑着。哈利接过纸打开读起来。罗恩、西摩斯、迪恩和尼维尔都探过头来看，这是一篇附带照片的文章，照片中的哈格力看上去很狡诈。 丹伯多犯了大错特约记者理特。史姬特报导——霍格瓦彻学校，一所培养魔法人才的学校，其古怪校长艾伯斯。丹伯多，从来不害怕雇用一些有争议的职员。今年九月，他雇用声名狼藉的的“魔眼”莫迪担任防黑巫术课的教授，这个决定使魔法界大吃一惊，因为谁都知道莫迪有这样一个习惯：只要他在场，无论谁突然乱动，他都会袭击那个人。不过，刚开始接受教授职位时，“魔眼”莫迪看上去还算负责和平易近人。 曾经承认在教到第三年就遭到驱赶的霍格瓦彻学校教师哈格力，在丹伯多校长的提供下，早就得到一个职位。但是，去年哈格力就利用校长的影响力，又获得了担任“魔法动物保护学”教授的职位，完全不理会当时众多的更有资格的应征者。 凭着新到手的权利，再加上一副凶神恶煞的模样，哈格力曾接二连三地用怪物恐吓他的学生。到目前为止，已有多名学生承认哈格力在上课时使许多同学致残。而丹伯多对这些情况却睁一只眼闭一只眼。 “我曾经被一只希皮格利狒袭击过，我朋友卫森。克来伯则被一只弗伯乌特狠狠咬过。”杰高。马尔夫，一个四年级学生说，“我们恨透了哈格力，但我们都很害怕他，所以我们什么也不敢说。” 哈格力并不打算停止他的恐吓战。相反，上个月在与一个先知日报的记者的谈话中，他承认正在饲养“尾巴燃火的史库斯”，一种介于螳螂和火蟹之间的高度危险的动物。培育新品种无庸置疑要在学校部门的严格监控下进行，以保证对麾法动物的控制和规范。 但是，哈格力似乎认为他可以超越这些管制。 “我只不过是对此感兴趣罢了。”他说，然后就很快地转移话题。 似乎这些还不足以证明哈格力不是个纯血统的男巫，《先知日报》现在正把越来越多的证据公之于众，以揭发哈格力。他不是个男巫，甚至不是一个真正的人，他妈妈，我们可以排斥地说，只不过是个叫弗利乌法巨人，没有人知道她的下落。 这些嗜血成性、残忍的巨人由于在上个世纪发生内战，现在正濒临绝种。剩下的都成了无名氏，他们都是一些应该为其在暴政时期的屠杀行为负责任的暴徒。 许多为‘那个人’服务的巨人被奥挪士杀死，但弗利乌法不在其中。她可能逃到其他山脉，加入了别的巨人集团。然而，从哈格力在教学中表现出的暴戾行为来看，弗利乌法的这个儿子看来已经继承了她的残忍的本性。 在另一方面，哈格力和那本《你知道谁将垮台》的作者却是亲密的朋友。这一来就为他妈妈的躲藏找到了保护伞。也许哈利-波特并不知道这个关于他的巨人朋友的不愉快的事实。——但艾伯斯。丹伯多有责任确保哈利-波特和其他的学生明白和这个半巨人相处的危险性。 哈利读完后抬头看着罗恩，发现他嘴巴张得大大的。 “她是怎么找到的？”罗恩悄悄地说。 但这并不是哈利所关心的。 “我们都恨透了哈格力，你这是什么意思？”哈利向马尔夫唾了一口。然后指着克来伯说道：“瞧这些垃圾——被一只‘弗伯乌特’狠狠咬了一口！它们连牙齿也没有呢。” 克来伯痴痴地暗笑，很明显，他非常满意自己的杰作。 “太棒了，我想这白痴的教书生涯要因此结束啦。”马尔夫两眼发光地说，“半巨人——我猜他年轻时一定喝了一瓶史哥利高。根本没有父母会喜欢这个的，他们会担心他吃了他们的孩子，哈哈……” “你们在用心看吗？” 格兰比。朋克教授的声音传过来。女孩们现在都围着独角兽抚摸它。哈利生气得连握纸的手都颤抖了，他转过身看着独角兽，实际上他什么也看不到。而格兰比。朋克教授正大声数着独角兽身上的魔性，好让那些男孩们也能听到。 “我希望她会留下来教我们，那个女人。”当下了课后孩子们回城堡吃午饭时，帕沃提。帕提说，“她上的魔法动物保护课比我想象的好多了。这种课就应该有相应的动物，比如独角兽，而不是怪物。” “那哈格力怎么办？”哈利生气地说。 “他？”帕维提生硬地说，“他可以继续做他的猎物看守人，不是吗？” 自从舞会以后，帕维提就对哈利很冷淡。他想他本应该多照顾她的，不过她看上去也玩得很开心呀。她当时还兴高采烈地告诉别人关于她如何安排下周末赴那个比尔贝顿男孩的约会呢。 “这真是很精彩的一节课，”荷米恩说。他们边走进了大厅。 “在格兰比。朋克教授告诉我之前，我一点也不知道独角……” “看看这个吧。”哈利打断她，把那篇文章在她鼻子底下扬了扬。 荷米恩读了那篇文章，她的反应就和罗恩一样。“那个可怕的史姬特女人是怎么知道的？你不会认为这是哈格力告诉她的吧？” “不。”哈利走到桌子旁，气鼓鼓地一屁股坐在椅子上。“他没跟我们说曾经告诉她，对吗？我猜她一定是因为哈格力不肯告诉她我的情况而气疯了，所以才去搜查哈格力的资料来报复他。” “也许是她在舞会上听到了他和玛西姆夫人的谈话。”荷米恩平静地说。 “我们在花园里没看见过她！”罗恩说，“总之，她不可以再来学校了。哈格力说校长已禁止她……” “也许她当时穿了隐身衣，躲在暗处偷听人们讲话。她最拿手做这种事情了，不是吗？”哈利盛了一碟鸡汤，由于生气，他把汤溅得到处都是。 “就像你和罗恩做得那样吗？”荷米恩说。 “我们没有偷听。”罗恩愤愤地说，“我们没办法呀！那白痴当时谈到他妈妈时声音响得每个人都能听到。” “我们必须去看看他。”哈利说，“今晚占卜课后就去。告诉他我们都想他回来……你一定想他回来的，是吗？”他看着荷米恩。 “我——好吧，上了一节这么生动的课，我可不会假装其中什么好的变化也没有，不过，我当然希望哈格力会回来。”荷米恩由于畏惧哈利的目光，她于是赶紧补充了几句。 所以晚餐过后，他们三个离开城堡，穿过冰封的雪地又来到了哈格力的小屋，他们敲了门，回答他们的只有猎犬弗兰的吠声。 “哈格力，是我们，快开门。”哈利一边喊一边略步地敲着门。 哈格力没有出来开门。他们听见弗兰在用爪子抓门板，哀号着，可门就是不开。他们锤打着门板，罗恩甚至撞玻璃窗，十分多钟过去了，里边毫无动静。 “他为什么躲着我们呢？他应该知道我们不会介意他是半巨人啊。”荷米恩说，他们最终还是放弃，失望地回学校了。 可哈格力似乎在意他们知道。他已经一个星期没露面了，饭桌上看不到他，操场上也不见这个猎物守护人。格兰比。朋克教授继续代课。马尔夫一有机会就幸灾乐祸。 “在想你的混血儿朋友吗？”他不断地在哈利耳边说，只要不远处有老师在，这样他就不怕哈利会报复他了。 一月中旬有个访问霍格马得的活动，荷米恩很奇怪哈利居然也去了。 “我还以为你会趁房间没人在时，好好地研究那只蛋呢。”她说。 “我，唔，我已知道那蛋的秘密了。”哈利撒谎道。 “真的吗？”荷米恩钦佩地说道，“做得好。” 哈利心里有点内疚，但他很快就忽略了，他还有五个星期的时间呢，这可是很长的一段时间呢。而且如果他遇到哈格力，他也许会遇见的，这样他就有机会劝他回来了。 他和罗恩还有荷米恩在星期六一起离开了学校，穿过又冷又湿的操场，走出校门，出发了。当他们走到泊在湖边的丹姆斯安船时，正好看到维特。克伦从甲板上走出来，他只穿着游泳衣，很瘦，不过明显比平时看上去要强壮很多。只见他举起双手，纵身一跃，跳进湖中。 “他一定是疯了。现在可是一月啊，水都结冰了。”哈利盯着克伦露出水面的头说。 “他家乡比这里要冷多了，”荷米恩说，“我猜他现在觉得就像春天一样暖和。” “对，我想水里还有大乌贼。”罗恩满怀希望，但不紧不慢地说。荷米恩听出了他的语气，皱了皱眉头。 “他是个很可爱的人，”她说，“完全不是你想的那样，他更喜欢这儿，这是他亲口对我说的。” 罗恩不再说什么了。自从舞会以后，他绝口不提维特。克伦。 可是哈利在比赛那天在床底下发现一只小手臂，看上去就像是从穿着保加利罗罩衫的模特身上扯下来的一样。 哈利在满是积雪的大街上仔细留意着哈格力的踪影，当他确定哈格力不在任何一间商店里时，他建议再去三扫帚酒吧看看。 酒吧拥挤如常，但哈利只扫了全场一眼，就知道哈格力也不在这了。失望中，他和两个伙伴走近柜台，叫了三杯黄油啤酒。早知如此，他就留在宿舍里研究那只蛋了。 “难道他不会在办公室里吗？”荷米恩突然说，“看！”她指着柜台后面的镜子，镜子里倒映出露得。巴格蒙的身影，他正和一群恶鬼，坐在阴暗角落里呢。巴格蒙说话声又低又快，可那些恶鬼两手叉在胸前，样子恶狠狠的。 太奇怪了，巴格蒙居然会在一个没有“三男巫”事件发生的周末呆在酒吧里，他为什么在这呢？哈利心想。他看着镜子，只见巴格蒙看上去很紧张，就像那晚墨马克在树林里出现之前一样，就在这时，巴格蒙朝柜台这边看过来，发现哈利，于是站了起来。 “等一下，等一下。”哈利听见他粗鲁地对那些恶鬼说，等他快步走近柜台，哈利又听到了他那男孩般的笑声。 “哈利，你好吗？我早就想见到你了，一切都好吧？” “很好，谢谢。”哈利说。 “我可以单独和你们说几句话吗？”巴格蒙热切地说，“你们两个离开几分钟，可以吧？” “好的。”罗恩回答道，他和荷米恩另外找了张桌子坐下来。 巴格蒙又把哈利带到吧头的尽头，这里是离罗斯玛特夫人最远的了。 “我想我应该再次祝贺你对抗号尾龙的精彩表演，真是太出色了。”巴格蒙说。 “谢谢。”哈利说，但他知道巴格蒙想要说的一定不止这些，因为称赞他也可以在两个同伴面前称赞呀，干吗支开他们呢？然而巴格蒙着上去并不急着一吐为快，虽然哈利注意到他不时地朝镜子里看，而那些恶鬼也正在黑暗中朝他使眼色。 “真是恶梦。”巴格蒙注意到哈利正朝那边看时，压低噪音对哈利说：“他们英语说得不好……好在他们会指头划脚地补充。这群家伙老是用歌宝德克语说话。可我只知道其中一个词，意思是操斧子，我不喜欢用它以免他们认为我威胁他们。”他发出低而沉的笑声。 “他们想干什么？”哈利问道。 “呃，这个……”巴格蒙突然看上去有点紧张，“他们……他们正在找克劳斯。巴地。” “为什么找到这来了？他不是在伦敦当牧师吗？” “呃……事实上我也不知道他在哪，”巴格蒙说，“他有点…… 不大来上班了。已经几个星期没看到他了。他的助手小伯希说他病了。表面上他已经叫猫头鹰去送指示了。但是哈利，你别把这些告诉别人好吗？因为理特。史姬特正到处打听他下落，我敢打保票她会把巴地生病吹嘘成是凶兆，或者说他像珀茜-佐金斯一样失踪了。“ “你有珀茜-佐金斯的消息吗？” “没有。”巴格蒙又重新紧张起来，“我已派人找她了，不过事情很奇怪，她肯定已到了阿尔巴尼亚，因为她要看她的二表姐，然后离开表姐家，去南边看姨妈，后来就在路上失踪了。让我往下想想看她会去哪里，她不像是那种跟别人私奔的人……但是……我们在干吗？干吗谈论恶鬼和珀茜-佐金斯呢？我其实很想问你。”他压低声音说，“那金蛋怎么样了？” “呃，不错。”哈利撒谎说。 巴格蒙似乎看出他的不老实。 “听着，哈利，”他仍然很小声，“我对这一切感觉不是很好，你已经被卷入这场竞赛了，尽管你不情愿，但如果……如果我能帮忙的话……给你指个方向……我是偏向你的……就是那条你超过那条龙的路，好了，就这些了。” 哈利看着他圆圆的脸和那两只像孩子似的蓝眼睛。 “我们会在蛋里找到线索的，对吗？”他尽量说得很随便。 “行，行。”巴格蒙有点不耐烦了，“我们都想要一个霍格瓦彻式的胜利，是吗？” “你帮过塞德里克吗？”哈利问道。 巴格蒙光滑的脸此时皱了起来。 “没有，我，我是说，我是偏向你的，我只想帮你一个……” “那样的话，太谢谢你了。不过我想那蛋再过几天就会裂开的。” 他不知道是否接受巴格蒙的帮助，对他来说巴格蒙还是个陌生人呢，而且如果接受的话，他会觉得欺骗了他的同伴。 巴格蒙看上去有点不高兴。就在这时，弗来德和乔治出现了，巴格蒙于是不再说什么。 “你好，巴格蒙先生，能赏脸喝杯酒吗？”弗来德高兴地说。 “不了，谢谢你，伙计。”巴格蒙最后失望地瞟了一眼哈利。 弗来德和乔治也同样失望，他们看着哈利，好像是他令他们失望似的。 “好了，我该走了。很高兴见到你，哈利，祝你好运。”巴格蒙匆匆走出酒吧，那几只妖怪也站起来，跟着他出去了。哈利走到罗恩和荷米恩坐的那张桌子。 “他想干吗？”罗恩问道。 “想帮我关于金蛋的事。”哈利回答道。 “他不应该这么做的。”荷米恩吃惊地说，“他可是裁判之一呢，而且，你已经找到线索了，是吗？” “呃，差不多吧。”哈利说。 “我想丹伯多如果知道巴格蒙偷偷帮你的话，他一定会很生气的，但愿他也这样帮塞德里克吧。” “他不会的，我问过他。” “谁在乎他帮不帮迪格瑞呀？”罗恩说，哈利同意地点了点头。 “那几只恶鬼看上去都不友善。他们在这干吗？”荷米恩呷了一口啤酒说道。 “巴格蒙说他们在找克劳斯。他病了，一个星期没上班。”哈利说。 “也许伯希把他毒死了，这样他就能坐上国际魔法合作部的部长位置了。”罗恩说。 荷米恩瞪了他一眼，埋怨他不该开这样的玩笑，说：“真有趣，几只恶鬼在找克劳斯，他们应该和魔法动物监控局的人打交道才对。” “克劳斯会说好几种语言，也许恶鬼们找他是为了让他当翻译。”哈利说。 “你在担心可怜的精灵吗？”罗恩问荷米恩，“是不是想成立个社团保护他们呢？” “哈哈，精灵才用不着别人保护呢。你没听过宾西教授说的关于精灵造反的事吗？”荷米恩反问道。 “没有。”罗恩和哈利异口同声。 “他们可厉害呢，”荷米恩又呷了一口啤酒，“他们可不像那些佣人小精灵。” “哦。”罗恩瞪着大门，叫道。 理特。史姬特进来了，她今天穿了件黄色罩衫，衣服下摆被涂成刺眼的红色，和她一起的还有那个大肚子摄影师。她买了饮料，两人穿过人群，坐在旁边的桌子，哈利、罗恩、荷米恩三个看着她，只见她正得意地说着什么。 “他们不大想跟我们说话呢？你怎么看？为什么他跟一群精灵在一起呢？无聊，他是撒谎高手呢，是不是发生了什么事呢？我们该做点文章，就以‘无耻前魔法师巴格蒙’为题。把它记下来，我们得编些故事出来。” “你又想破坏谁的生活呢？”哈利大声说。 许多人抬起头来，待理特看清谁在说话后，她那副镶着宝石的眼镜后面的两只眼睛瞪得大大的。 “哈利，”她咧嘴笑道，“太棒了，你怎么在这？” “我正想带根长扫帚找你算帐呢。”哈利生气地说，“为什么你要那样写哈格力？” “读者有权知道事情的真相，我只不过是做我应……” “谁在乎他是个半巨人呢？”哈利喊道，“他正常得很哪。” 酒吧里都静了下来，老板娘在柜台里看着这一切，连酒倒满溢出来了都不知道。 理特的笑容有点僵硬，但她马上恢复了。而且动作迅速地从她鳄鱼皮包里拿出纸和笔，说：“来个采访怎么样？跟我谈谈你所知道的哈格力，那个混身肌肉的家伙背后的故事，还有你和他成为朋友的原因。你是不是把他当父亲看待呢？” 荷米恩“嚯”地站起来，手里握着那杯啤酒，像握着一个手榴弹。 “你这个可怕的女人，你不在乎别人，你只在乎你的故事，连巴格蒙……” “给我坐下，笨蛋，你怎么会懂我们在说什么呢？”理特冷冷地说，锋利的目光直逼荷米恩，“要是我告诉一些关于巴格蒙的事情，你会气得连头发都卷起来的，倒不是说——”她看着荷米恩乱蓬蓬的头发，又说道。 “我们走吧。来，哈利、罗恩……”荷米恩说。 他们离开了。酒吧里的人都看着他们。哈利回过头看了一眼，只见那支笔在羊皮纸上来回划动。 “她下一个目标就是你了，荷米恩。”罗恩担忧地说。 “让她试试看吧！”荷米恩已被气得浑身发抖，“我要教训她一下，这笨蛋，哼，先是哈利，然后是哈格力，我要她为此付出代价。” “别惹她。”罗恩紧张地说，“我是认真的，她一定会在你身上做文章。” “我的爸爸妈妈又不看《先知日报》。她不可能把我吓到藏起来的。”荷米恩说，哈利记得上次荷米恩打马尔夫的时候，就像现在一样生气。“哈格力用不着躲起来呀，他怎能被人们吓得如此紧张呢，快点。” 三个人跑到了哈格力的小屋前，窗帘还是放下来，但这次他们连弗兰的吠声也听不到了。 “哈格力！”荷米恩一边锤打着门一边大声说，“够了，我们知道你在里边，没人会介意你妈妈是个巨人的，哈格力别让史姬特得逞！哈格力快出来，你是……” 门开了，荷米恩说着停了下来，因为她看见里边的人，不是哈格力，而是丹伯多。 “下午好。”他笑着对他们说。 “我们——我们想找哈格力。”荷米恩的声音低得不能再低。 “我知道。”丹伯多眨着眼睛说，“为什么不进来呢？” “好吧。”荷米恩说。 三人走进屋里，弗兰一看到哈利就扑过来，呜呜地要舔他耳朵，哈利把它支开，看着四周。 哈格力坐在桌子旁，前面放着两大杯茶。他看上去一团糟，脸上布满斑点，眼睛深深陷下去，头发乱得像一堆电线。 “你好，哈格力。”哈利向他打招呼。 哈格力抬起头，只是沙哑地咕噜了一声“你好。” “我再倒点茶进来。”丹伯多关上门，出去了。不一会儿，他便拿了一碟点心和几杯茶走进来，所有人都坐在桌子旁，大家都沉默不语。最后，丹伯多说，“你知道格林佐小姐刚才在门口大声喊你吗，哈格力？” 荷米恩脸红了，但丹伯多朝她笑了笑继续说，“他们很关心你，从刚才他们敲门的情形就看出来了。” “我们当然想知道你怎么样了。”哈利看着哈格力说，“你不会把那母牛理特——对不起，教授”。他意识一时嘴快，吐了吐舌头，看着丹伯多。 “我耳朵暂时性失聪了，所以我听不见你刚才在说什么，哈利。”丹伯多玩着两只拇指，眼睛看着天花板说。 “对，我是说，哈格力，你怎么能把那女人写的东西放在心上呢？” 两颗硕大的泪珠从哈格力乌黑的眼眶中掉下来，流到他那打结的胡子上去了。 “还记得上次我告诉你的吗？”丹伯多说，眼光依然盯着天花板，“那雪花般的父母来信，说要是我再收你进校，他们就要投诉。” “不是全部。”哈格力沙哑地说，“有些人还是希望我留下来的。” “是吗，可如果你再拖下去的话，恐怕你要在这屋里呆更久。” 丹伯多说，透过厚厚的镜片，他看着哈格力说，“我当校长不是一两天的事啦，当我遇到别人对我的管理方法提出指责时，我又该怎么做呢？把自己关起来，拒绝任何人吗？” “可你不是半巨人！”哈格力低哑地说。 “哈格力，你看到我为我亲戚所做的吗？”哈利生气了。“看看杜斯利一家吧！” “说得好。”丹伯多教授说，“就拿我兄弟艾伯斯来说吧，上次他被指控用不正当魔法控制一只山羊，报纸吹得满天飞，但是他躲起来了吗？没有！他还是挺起胸膛像平时一样做他的事！当然，我不敢保证他识字，所以也许不能说他勇敢……” “回来继续教我们吧，哈格力。”荷米恩说，“回来吧，我们都很想念你。” 哈格力深吸了一口气，眼泪哗啦哗啦地流下脸颊，再流入胡子里。 “我不会接受你的辞呈，哈格力，我希望星期一你来上班。早上八点半和我们一起在大厅吃早餐，不能请假。好了，祝你们下午好。” 丹伯多离开小屋，当门被关上后，哈格力禁不住把脸埋在他那桶盖似的双手啜泣起来，荷米恩轻轻地拍着他，过了一会儿，他抬起头来，眼睛又红又肿，“好，丹伯多……真是个好人……” “的确是。”罗恩说，“哈格力，我能吃块蛋糕吗？” “别客气。”哈格力用手背擦着眼泪，说：“他说得对，当然，你们都说得对，我爸爸要是知道我这样做的话一定会为我感到羞耻。你们还没看过我父亲的照片吧。这儿。” 哈格力站起来，在梳妆台抽屉里拿出一张照片。上面有一位矮个子的魔法师，眼睛长得和哈格力的一模一样，正笑着坐在哈格力的肩膀上。哈格力那时该有七、八英尺高，但脸上没有胡子，又圆又年轻——看上去最多十一岁。 “那是我刚进霍格瓦彻时照的。”哈格力说，“爸爸临死时很开心，他想我不用做巫师了。因为我妈妈……总之，我的魔法学得不怎样，但他至少没有看到我被赶出学校，他死了。就在我上二年级的时候。” “丹伯多是爸爸死后帮我的人，他给我安排了看守猎场的工作，他很相信别人，总是给别人第二次机会。这是他与别的上司的不同之处，明白吗？只要别人有才华，他都会接受他们，他是让人尊敬的，但总有人不理解。这些人老是跟他作对。他们甚至装作很伟大。可他们连‘那个人’都不敢说，我父亲说得对，这世上总是有人跟你作对的，但他们不值得让你烦恼。我已经做得很好了。我不会再让这个女人继续打扰下去，我发誓，我要给她一个教训。” 哈利、罗恩和荷米恩三个紧张地你看着我，我看着你，哈利宁愿背着五十个尾巴燃着火的史库斯走一圈，也不愿告诉哈格力他听到了玛西姆夫人与哈格力的谈话。但哈格力继续说着，完全没有意识到他说了些怪话。 “你知道吗，哈利？”他边说，边抬头看了看他父亲的照片，眼睛闪闪发光，“当我第一次遇见你时，我就想起了自己，爸爸和妈妈不在身边，你感觉到你不适合待在霍格瓦彻，记得吗？你不敢确定自己是否能做到。现在看看你吧，学校冠军！” 他定定地看着哈利，严肃地说：“你知道我想要什么吗，哈利？ 我要你赢。我会向他们证明的。你不用为自己的身份感到害羞，只要向人们证明你做得对就行了。那只蛋的进展如何，哈利？“ “很好。真的很好。”哈利说。 哈格力哭丧着的脸终于露出了笑容，“好样的……你向他们证明了，哈利，你打败他们了。” 对哈格力撒谎比对任何人撒谎都要难受。回到城堡，哈利怎么也忘不了哈格力听到那只蛋的消息时脸上流露出来的兴奋的表情。 此时，哈利觉得那只蛋比以往任何时候都重了。这晚睡觉前，他暗暗下定决心——是时候把他的傲慢搁在一边，听听塞德里克给他的忠告了。 |
Chapter 23 The Yule Ball Despite the very heavy load of homework that the fourth years had been given for the holidays. Harry was in no mood to work when term ended, and spent the week leading up to Christmas enjoying himself as fully as possible along with everyone else. Gryffindor Tower was hardly less crowded now than during term-time; it seemed to have shrunk slightly too, as its inhabitants were being so much rowdier than usual. Fred and George had had a great success with their Canary Creams, and for the first couple of days of the holidays, people kept bursting into feather all over the place. Before long, however, all the Gryffindors had learned to treat food anybody else offered them with extreme caution, in case it had a Canary Cream concealed in the center, and George confided to Harry that he and Fred were now working on developing something else. Harry made a mental note never to accept so much as a crisp from Fred and George in future. He still hadn't forgotten Dudley and the Ton-Tongue Toffee. Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and its grounds now. The pale blue Beauxbatons carriage looked like a large, chilly, frosted pumpkin next to the iced gingerbread house that was Hagrid's cabin, while the Durmstrang ship's portholes were glazed with ice, the rigging white with frost. The house-elves down in the kitchen were outdoing themselves with a series of rich, warming stews and savory puddings, and only Fleur Delacour seemed to be able to find anything to complain about. “It is too ‘eavy, all zis ‘Ogwarts food,” they heard her saying grumpily as they left the Great Hall behind her one evening (Ron skulking behind Harry, keen not to be spotted by Fleur). “I will not fit into my dress robes!” “Oooh there's a tragedy,” Hermione snapped as Fleur went out into the entrance hall. “She really thinks a lot of herself, that one, doesn't she?” “Hermione - who are you going to the ball with?” said Ron. He kept springing this question on her, hoping to startle her into a response by asking it when she least expected it. However, Hermione merely frowned and said, “I'm not telling you, you'll just make fun of me.” “You're joking, Weasley!” said Malfoy, behind them. “You're not telling me someone's asked that to the ball? Not the long-molared Mudblood?” Harry and Ron both whipped around, but Hermione said loudly, waving to somebody over Malfoy's shoulder, “Hello, Professor Moody!” Malfoy went pale and jumped backward, looking wildly around for Moody, but he was still up at the staff table, finishing his stew. “Twitchy little ferret, aren't you, Malfoy?” said Hermione scathingly, and she, Harry, and Ron went up the marble staircase laughing heartily. “Hermione,” said Ron, looking sideways at her, suddenly frowning, “your teeth…” “What about them?” she said. “Well, they're different…I've just noticed.…” “Of course they are - did you expect me to keep those fangs Malfoy gave me?” “No, I mean, they're different to how they were before he put that hex on you.…They're all…straight and - and normal-sized.” Hermione suddenly smiled very mischievously, and Harry noticed it too: It was a very different smile from the one he remembered. “Well…when I went up to Madam Pomfrey to get them shrunk, she held up a mirror and told me to stop her when they were back to how they normally were,” she said. “And I just…let her carry on a bit.” She smiled even more widely. “Mum and Dad won't be too pleased. I've been trying to persuade them to let me shrink them for ages, but they wanted me to carry on with my braces. You know, they're dentists, they just don't think teeth and magic should - look! Pigwidgeon's back!” Ron's tiny owl was twittering madly on the top of the icicle-laden banisters, a scroll of parchment tied to his leg. People passing him were pointing and laughing, and a group of third-year girls paused and said, “Oh look at the weeny owl! Isn't he cute?” Stupid little feathery git!” Ron hissed, hurrying up the stairs and snatching up Pigwidgeon. “You bring letters to the addressee! You don't hang around showing off!” Pigwidgeon hooted happily, his head protruding over Ron's fist. The third-year girls all looked very shocked. “Clear off!” Ron snapped at them, waving the fist holding Pigwidgeon, who hooted more happily than ever as he soared through the air. “Here - take it, Harry,” Ron added in an undertone as the third-year girls scuttled away looking scandalized. He pulled Sirius's reply off Pigwidgeons leg. Harry pocketed it, and they hurried back to Gryffindor Tower to read it. Everyone in the common room was much too busy in letting off more holiday steam to observe what anyone else was up to. Ron, Harry, and Hermione sat apart from everyone else by a dark window that was gradually filling up with snow, and Harry read out: Dear Harry, Congratulations on getting past the Horntail. Whoever put your name in that goblet shouldn't be feeling too happy right now! I was going to suggest a Conjunctivitus Curse, as a dragon's eyes are its weakest point - “That's what Krum did!” Hermione whispered - but your way was better, I'm impressed. Don't get complacent, though. Harry. You've only done one task; whoever put you in for the tournament's got plenty more opportunity if they're trying to hurt you. Keep your eyes open -particularly when the person we discussed is around and concentrate on keeping yourself out of trouble. Keep in touch, I still want to hear about anything unusual. Sirius “He sounds exactly like Moody,” said Harry quietly, tucking the letter away again inside his robes. “'Constant vigilance!’ You'd think I walk around with my eyes shut, banging off the walls.…” “But he's right, Harry,” said Hermione, “you have still got two tasks to do. You really ought to have a look at that egg, you know, and start working out what it means.…” “Hermione, he's got ages!” snapped Ron. “Want a game of chess, Harry?” “Yeah, okay,” said Harry. Then, spotting the look on Hermione's face, he said, “Come on, how'm I supposed to concentrate with all this noise going on? I won't even be able to hear the egg over this lot.” “Oh I suppose not,” she sighed, and she sat down to watch their chess match, which culminated in an exciting checkmate of Ron's, involving a couple of recklessly brave pawns and a very violent bishop. * * * * * * Harry awoke very suddenly on Christmas Day. Wondering what had caused his abrupt return to consciousness, he opened his eyes, and saw something with very large, round, green eyes staring back at him in the darkness, so close they were almost nose to nose. “Dobby!” Harry yelled, scrambling away from the elf so fast he almost fell out of bed. “Don't do that!” “Dobby is sorry, sir!” squeaked Dobby anxiously, jumping backward with his long fingers over his mouth. “Dobby is only wanting to wish Harry Potter ‘Merry Christmas’ and bring him a present, Sir! Harry Potter did say Dobby could come and see him sometimes, sir!” It's okay,” said Harry, still breathing rather faster than usual, while his heart rate returned to normal. “Just - just prod me or something in future, all right, don't bend over me like that.…” Harry pulled back the curtains around his four-poster, took his glasses from his bedside table, and put them on. His yell had awoken Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville. All of them were peering through the gaps in their own hangings, heavy-eyed and tousle-haired. “Someone attacking you, Harry?” Seamus asked sleepily. “No, it's just Dobby,” Harry muttered. “Go back to sleep.” “Nah…presents!” said Seamus, spotting the large pile at the foot of his bed. Ron, Dean, and Neville decided that now they were awake they might as well get down to some present-opening too. Harry turned back to Dobby, who was now standing nervously next to Harry's bed, still looking worried that he had upset Harry. There was a Christmas bauble tied to the loop on top of his tea cozy. “Can Dobby give Harry Potter his present?” he squeaked tentatively. “'Course you can,” said Harry. “Er…I've got something for you too.” It was a lie; he hadn't bought anything for Dobby at all, but he quickly opened his trunk and pulled out a particularly knobbly rolled-up pair of socks. They were his oldest and foulest, mustard yellow, and had once belonged to Uncle Vernon. The reason they were extra-knobbly was that Harry had been using them to cushion his Sneakoscope for over a year now. He pulled out the Sneako-scope and handed the socks to Dobby, saying, “Sorry, I forgot to wrap them…” But Dobby was utterly delighted. “Socks are Dobby's favorite, favorite clothes, sir!” he said, ripping off his odd ones and pulling on Uncle Vernon's. “I has seven now, sir.…But sir…” he said, his eyes widening, having pulled both socks up to their highest extent, so that they reached to the bottom of his shorts, “they has made a mistake in the shop, Harry Potter, they is giving you two the same!” “Ah, no, Harry, how come you didn't spot that?” said Ron, grinning over from his own bed, which was now strewn with wrapping paper. “Tell you what, Dobby - here you go - take these two, and you can mix them up properly. And here's your sweater.” He threw Dobby a pair of violet socks he had just unwrapped, and the hand-knitted sweater Mrs. Weasley had sent, Dobby looked quite overwhelmed. “Sir is very kind!” he squeaked, his eyes brimming with tears again, bowing deeply to Ron. “Dobby knew sir must be a great wizard, for he is Harry Potter's greatest friend, but Dobby did not know that he was also as generous of spirit, as noble, as selfless -” “They're only socks,” said Ron, who had gone slightly pink around the ears, though he looked rather pleased all the same. “Wow, Harry -” He had just opened Harry's present, a Chudley Cannon hat. “Cool!” He jammed it onto his head, where it clashed horribly with his hair. Dobby now handed Harry a small package, which turned out to be - socks. “Dobby is making them himself, sir!” the elf said happily. “He is buying the wool out of his wages, sir!” The left sock was bright red and had a pattern of broomsticks upon it; the right sock was green with a pattern of Snitches. “They're…they're really…well, thanks, Dobby,” said Harry, and he pulled them on, causing Dobby's eyes to leak with happiness again. “Dobby must go now, sir, we is already making Christmas dinner in the kitchens!” said Dobby, and he hurried out of the dormitory, waving good-bye to Ron and the others as he passed. Harry's other presents were much more satisfactory than Dobby's odd socks - with the obvious exception of the Dursleys', which consisted of a single tissue, an all-time low - Harry supposed they too were remember ing the Ton-Tongue Toffee. Hermione had given Harry a book called Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland; Ron, a bulging bag of Dungbombs; Sirius, a handy penknife with attachments to unlock any lock and undo any knot; and Hagrid, a vast box of sweets including all Harry's favorites: Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, and Fizzing Whizbees. There was also, of course, Mrs. Weasley's usual package, including a new sweater (green, with a picture of a dragon on it - Harry supposed Charlie had told her all about the Horntail), and a large quantity of homemade mince pies. Harry and Ron met up with Hermione in the common room, and they went down to breakfast together. They spent most of the morning in Gryffindor Tower, where everyone was enjoying their presents, then returned to the Great Hall for a magnificent lunch, which included at least a hundred turkeys and Christmas puddings, and large piles of Cribbage's Wizarding Crackers. They went out onto the grounds in the afternoon; the snow was untouched except for the deep channels made by the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students on their way up to the castle. Hermione chose to watch Harry and the Weasleys’ snowball fight rather than join in, and at five o'clock said she was going back upstairs to get ready for the ball. “What, you need three hours?” said Ron, looking at her incredulously and paying for his lapse in concentration when a large snowball, thrown by George, hit him hard on the side of the head. “Who're you going with?” he yelled after Hermione, but she just waved and disappeared up the stone steps into the castle. There was no Christmas tea today, as the ball included a feast, so at seven o'clock, when it had become hard to aim properly, the others abandoned their snowball fight and trooped back to the common room. The Fat Lady was sitting in her frame with her friend Violet from downstairs, both of them extremely tipsy, empty boxes of chocolate liqueurs littering the bottom other picture. “Lairy fights, that's the one!” she giggled when they gave the password, and she swung forward to let them inside. Harry, Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville changed into their dress robes up in their dormitory, all of them looking very self-conscious, but none as much as Ron, who surveyed himself in the long mirror in the corner with an appalled look on his face. There was just no getting around the fact that his robes looked more like a dress than anything else. In a desperate attempt to make them look more manly, he used a Severing Charm on the ruff and cuffs. It worked fairly well; at least he was now lace-free, although he hadn't done a very neat job, and the edges still looked depressingly frayed as the boys set off downstairs. “I still can't work out how you two got the best-looking girls in the year,” muttered Dean. “Animal magnetism,” said Ron gloomily, pulling stray threads out of his cuffs. The common room looked strange, full of people wearing different colors instead of the usual mass of black. Parvati was waiting for Harry at the foot of the stairs. She looked very pretty indeed, in robes of shocking pink, with her long dark plait braided with gold, and gold bracelets glimmering at her wrists. Harry was relieved to see that she wasn't giggling. “You - er - look nice,” he said awkwardly. “Thanks,” she said. “Padma's going to meet you in the entrance hall,” she added to Ron. “Right,” said Ron, looking around. “Where's Hermione?” Parvati shrugged. “Shall we go down then, Harry?” “Okay,” said Harry, wishing he could just stay in the common room. Fred winked at Harry as he passed him on the way out of the portrait hole. The entrance hall was packed with students too, all milling around waiting for eight o'clock, when the doors to the Great Hall would be thrown open. Those people who were meeting partners from different Houses were edging through the crowd trying to find one another. Parvati found her sister, Padma, and led her over to Harry and Ron. “Hi,” said Padma, who was looking just as pretty as Parvati in robes of bright turquoise. She didn't look too enthusiastic about having Ron as a partner, though; her dark eyes lingered on the frayed neck and sleeves of his dress robes as she looked him up and down. “Hi,” said Ron, not looking at her, but staring around at the crowd. “Oh no…” He bent his knees slightly to hide behind Harry, because Fleur Delacour was passing, looking stunning in robes of silver-gray satin, and accompanied by the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, Roger Davies. When they had disappeared, Ron stood straight again and stared over the heads of the crowd. “Where is Hermione?” he said again. A group of Slytherins came up the steps from their dungeon common room. Malfoy was in front; he was wearing dress robes of black velvet with a high collar, which in Harry's opinion made him look like a vicar. Pansy Parkinson in very frilly robes of pale pink was clutching Malfoy's arm. Crabbe and Goyle were both wearing green; they resembled moss-colored boulders, and neither of them, Harry was pleased to see, had managed to find a partner. The oak front doors opened, and everyone turned to look as the Durmstrang students entered with Professor Karkaroff. Krum was at the front of the party, accompanied by a pretty girl in blue robes Harry didn't know. Over their heads he saw that an area of lawn right in front of the castle had been transformed into a sort of grotto full of fairy lights - meaning hundreds of actual living fairies were sitting in the rosebushes that had been conjured there, and fluttering over the statues of what seemed to be Father Christmas and his reindeer. Then Professor McGonagall's voice called, “Champions over here, please!” Parvati readjusted her bangles, beaming; she and Harry said, “See you in a minute” to Ron and Padma and walked forward, the chattering crowd parting to let them through. Professor McGonagall, who was wearing dress robes of red tartan and had arranged a rather ugly wreath of thistles around the brim other hat, told them to wait on one side of the doors while everyone else went inside; they were to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students had sat down. Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies stationed themselves nearest the doors; Davies looked so stunned by his good fortune in having Fleur for a partner that he could hardly take his eyes off her. Cedric and Cho were close to Harry too; he looked away from them so he wouldn't have to talk to them. His eyes fell instead on the girl next to Krum. His jaw dropped. It was Hermione. But she didn't look like Hermione at all. She had done something with her hair; it was no longer bushy but sleek and shiny, and twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. She was wearing robes made of a floaty, periwinkle-blue material, and she was holding herself differently, somehow - or maybe it was merely the absence of the twenty or so books she usually had slung over her back. She was also smiling - rather nervously, it was true - but the reduction in the size of her front teeth was more noticeable than ever; Harry couldn't understand how he hadn't spotted it before. “Hi, Harry!” she said. “Hi, Parvati!” Parvati was gazing at Hermione in unflattering disbelief. She wasn't the only one either; when the doors to the Great Hall opened, Krum's fan club from the library stalked past, throwing Hermione looks of deepest loathing. Pansy Parkinson gaped at her as she walked by with Malfoy, and even he didn't seem to be able to find an insult to throw at her. Ron, however, walked right past Hermione without looking at her. Once everyone else was settled in the Hall, Professor McGonagall told the champions and their partners to get in line in pairs and to follow her. They did so, and everyone in the Great Hall applauded as they entered and started walking up toward a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were sitting. The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people. Harry concentrated on not tripping over his feet. Parvati seemed to be enjoying herself; she was beaming around at everybody, steering Harry so forcefully that he felt as though he were a show dog she was putting through its paces. He caught sight of Ron and Padma as he neared the top table. Ron was watching Hermione pass with narrowed eyes. Padma was looking sulky. Dumbledore smiled happily as the champions approached the top table, but Karkaroff wore an expression remarkably like Ron's as he watched Krum and Hermione draw nearer. Ludo Bagman, tonight in robes of bright purple with large yellow stars, was clapping as enthusiastically as any of the students; and Madame Maxime, who had changed her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of lavender silk, was applauding them politely. But Mr. Crouch, Harry suddenly realized, was not there. The fifth seat at the table was occupied by Percy Weasley. When the champions and their partners reached the table, Percy drew out the empty chair beside him, staring pointedly at Harry. Harry took the hint and sat down next to Percy, who was wearing brand-new, navy-blue dress robes and an expression of such smugness that Harry thought it ought to be fined. “I've been promoted,” Percy said before Harry could even ask, and from his tone, he might have been announcing his election as supreme ruler of the universe. “I'm now Mr. Crouch's personal assistant, and I'm here representing him.” “Why didn't he come?” Harry asked. He wasn't looking forward to being lectured on cauldron bottoms all through dinner. “I'm afraid to say Mr. Crouch isn't well, not well at all. Hasn't been right since the World Cup. Hardly surprising - overwork. He's not as young as he was - though still quite brilliant, of course, the mind remains as great as it ever was. But the World Cup was a fiasco for the whole Ministry, and then, Mr. Crouch suffered a huge personal shock with the misbehavior of that house-elf of his, Blinky, or whatever she was called. Naturally, he dismissed her immediately afterward, but - well, as I say, he's getting on, he needs looking after, and I think he's found a definite drop in his home comforts since she left. And then we had the tournament to arrange, and the aftermath of the Cup to deal with - that revolting Skeeter woman buzzing around - no, poor man, he's having a well earned, quiet Christmas. I'm just glad he knew he had someone he could rely upon to take his place.” Harry wanted very much to ask whether Mr. Crouch had stopped calling Percy “Weatherby” yet, but resisted the temptation. There was no food as yet on the glittering golden plates, but small menus were lying in front of each of them. Harry picked his up uncertainly and looked around - there were no waiters. Dumbledore, however, looked carefully down at his own menu, then said very clearly to his plate, “Pork chops!” And pork chops appeared. Getting the idea, the rest of the table placed their orders with their plates too. Harry glanced up at Hermione to see how she felt about this new and more complicated method of dining - surely it meant plenty of extra work for the house-elves? - but for once, Hermione didn't seem to be thinking about S.P.E.W. She was deep in talk with Viktor Krum and hardly seemed to notice what she was eating. It now occurred to Harry that he had never actually heard Krum speak before, but he was certainly talking now, and very enthusiastically at that. “Veil, ve have a castle also, not as big as this, nor as comfortable, I am thinking,” he was telling Hermione. “Ve have just four floors, and the fires are lit only for magical purposes. But ve have grounds larger even than these - though in vinter, ve have very little daylight, so ve are not enjoying them. But in summer ve are flying every day, over the lakes and the mountains -” “Now, now, Viktor!” said Karkaroff with a laugh that didn't reach his cold eyes, “don't go giving away anything else, now, or your charming friend will know exactly where to find us!” Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Igor, all this secrecy, one would almost think you didn't want visitors.” “Well, Dumbledore,” said Karkaroff, displaying his yellowing teeth to their fullest extent, “we are all protective of our private domains, are we not? Do we not jealously guard the halls of learning that have been entrusted to us? Are we not right to be proud that we alone know our school's secrets, and right to protect them?” “Oh I would never dream of assuming I know all Hogwarts’ secrets, Igor,” said Dumbledore amicably. “Only this morning, for instance, I took a wrong turning on the way to the bathroom and found myself in a beautifully proportioned room I have never seen before, containing a really rather magnificent collection of chamber pots. When I went back to investigate more closely, I discovered that the room had vanished. But I must keep an eye out for it. Possibly it is only accessible at five-thirty in the morning. Or it may only appear at the quarter moon - or when the seeker has an exceptionally full bladder.” Harry snorted into his plate of goulash. Percy frowned, but Harry could have sworn Dumbledore had given him a very small wink. Meanwhile Fleur Delacour was criticizing the Hogwarts decorations to Roger Davies. “Zis is nothing,” she said dismissively, looking around at the sparkling walls of the Great Hall. “At ze Palace of Beauxbatons, we ‘ave ice sculptures all around ze dining chamber at Chreestmas. Zey do not melt, of course…zey are like ‘uge statues of diamond, glittering around ze place. And ze food is seemply superb. And we ‘ave choirs of wood nymphs, ‘oo serenade us as we eat. We ‘ave none of zis ugly armor in ze ‘alls, and eef a poltergeist ever entaired into Beauxbatons, ‘e would be expelled like zat.” She slapped her hand onto the table impatiently. Roger Davies was watching her talk with a very dazed look on his face, and he kept missing his mouth with his fork. Harry had the impression that Davies was too busy staring at Fleur to take in a word she was saying. “Absolutely right,” he said quickly, slapping his own hand down on the table in imitation of Fleur. “Like that. Yeah.” Harry looked around the Hall. Hagrid was sitting at one of the other staff tables; he was back in his horrible hairy brown suit and gazing up at the top table. Harry saw him give a small wave, and looking around, saw Madame Maxime return it, her opals glittering in the candlelight. Hermione was now teaching Krum to say her name properly; he kept calling her “Hermy-own.” “Her-my-oh-nee,” she said slowly and clearly. “Herm-own-ninny.” “Close enough,” she said, catching Harry's eye and grinning. When all the food had been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it. The Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. They picked up their instruments, and Harry, who had been so interested in watching them that he had almost forgotten what was coming, suddenly realized that the lanterns on all the other tables had gone out, and that the other champions and their partners were standing up. “Come on!” Parvati hissed. “We're supposed to dance!” Harry tripped over his dress robes as he stood up. The Weird Sisters struck up a slow, mournful tune; Harry walked onto the brightly lit dance floor, carefully avoiding catching anyone's eye (he could see Seamus and Dean waving at him and sniggering), and next moment, Parvati had seized his hands, placed one around her waist, and was holding the other tightly in hers. It wasn't as bad as it could have been. Harry thought, revolving slowly on the spot (Parvati was steering). He kept his eyes fixed over the heads of the watching people, and very soon many of them too had come onto the dance floor, so that the champions were no longer the center of attention. Neville and Ginny were dancing nearby - he could see Ginny wincing frequently as Neville trod on her feet - and Dumbledore was waltzing with Madame Maxime. He was so dwarfed by her that the top of his pointed hat barely tickled her chin; however, she moved very gracefully for a woman so large. Mad-Eye Moody was doing an extremely ungainly two-step with Professor Sinistra, who was nervously avoiding his wooden leg. “Nice socks. Potter,” Moody growled as he passed, his magical eye staring through Harry's robes. “Oh - yeah, Dobby the house-elf knitted them for me,” said Harry, grinning. “He is so creepy!” Parvati whispered as Moody clunked away. “I don't think that eye should be allowed.” * * * * * * Harry heard the final, quavering note from the bagpipe with relief. The Weird Sisters stopped playing, applause filled the hall once more, and Harry let go of Parvati at once. “Let's sit down, shall we?” “Oh - but - this is a really good one!” Parvati said as the Weird Sisters struck up a new song, which was much faster. “No, I don't like it,” Harry lied, and he led her away from the dance floor, past Fred and Angelina, who were dancing so exhuberantly that people around them were backing away in fear of injury, and over to the table where Ron and Padma were sitting. “How's it going?” Harry asked Ron, sitting down and opening a bottle of butterbeer. Ron didn't answer. He was glaring at Hermione and Krum, who were dancing nearby. Padma was sitting with her arms and legs crossed, one foot jiggling in time to the music. Every now and then she threw a disgruntled look at Ron, who was completely ignoring her. Parvati sat down on Harry's other side, crossed her arms and legs too, and within minutes was asked to dance by a boy from Beauxbatons. “You don't mind, do you, Harry?” Parvati said. “What?” said Harry, who was now watching Cho and Cedric. “Oh never mind,” snapped Parvati, and she went off with the boy from Beauxbatons. When the song ended, she did not return. Hermione came over and sat down in Parvati's empty chair. She was a bit pink in the face from dancing. “Hi,” said Harry. Ron didn't say anything. “It's hot, isn't it?” said Hermione, fanning herself with her hand. “Viktor's just gone to get some drinks.” Ron gave her a withering look. “Viktor?” he said. “Hasn't he asked you to call him Vicky yet?” Hermione looked at him in surprise. “What's up with you?” she said. “If you don't know,” said Ron scathingly, “I'm not going to tell you.” Hermione stared at him, then at Harry, who shrugged. “Ron, what -?” “He's from Durmstrang!” spat Ron. “He's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You - you're -” Ron was obviously casting around for words strong enough to describe Hermione's crime, “fraternizing with the enemy, that's what you're doing!” Hermione's mouth fell open. “Don't be so stupid!” she said after a moment. “The enemy! Honestly - who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who's got a model of him up in their dormitory?” Ron chose to ignore this. “I s'pose he asked you to come with him while you were both in the library?” “Yes, he did,” said Hermione, the pink patches on her cheeks glowing more brightly. “So what?” “What happened - trying to get him to join spew, were you?” “No, I wasn't! If you really want to know, he - he said he'd been coming up to the library every day to try and talk to me, but he hadn't been able to pluck up the courage!” Hermione said this very quickly, and blushed so deeply that she was the same color as Parvati's robes. “Yeah, well - that's his story,” said Ron nastily. “And what's that supposed to mean?” “Obvious, isn't it? He's Karkaroff's student, isn't he? He knows who you hang around with.…He's just trying to get closer to Harry - get inside information on him - or get near enough to jinx him -” Hermione looked as though Ron had slapped her. When she spoke, her voice quivered. “For your information, he hasn't asked me one single thing about Harry, not one -” Ron changed tack at the speed of light. “Then he's hoping you'll help him find out what his egg means! I suppose you've been putting your heads together during those cozy little library sessions -” “I'd never help him work out that egg!” said Hermione, looking outraged. “Never. How could you say something like that - I want Harry to win the tournament. Harry knows that, don't you, Harry?” “You've got a funny way of showing it,” sneered Ron. “This whole tournament's supposed to be about getting to know foreign wizards and making friends with them!” said Hermione hotly. “No it isn't!” shouted Ron. “It's about winning!” People were starting to stare at them. “Ron,” said Harry quietly, “I haven't got a problem with Hermione coming with Krum -” But Ron ignored Harry too. “Why don't you go and find Vicky, he'll be wondering where you are,” said Ron. “Don't call him Vicky!” Hermione jumped to her feet and stormed off across the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd. Ron watched her go with a mixture of anger and satisfaction on his face. “Are you going to ask me to dance at all?” Padma asked him. “No,” said Ron, still glaring after Hermione. “Fine,” snapped Padma, and she got up and went to join Parvati and the Beauxbatons boy, who conjured up one of his friends to join them so fast that Harry could have sworn he had zoomed him there by a Summoning Charm. “Vare is Herm-own-ninny?” said a voice. Krum had just arrived at their table clutching two butterbeers. “No idea,” said Ron mulishly, looking up at him. “Lost her, have you?” Krum was looking surly again. “Veil, if you see her, tell her I haff drinks,” he said, and he slouched off. “Made friends with Viktor Krum, have you, Ron?” Percy had bustled over, rubbing his hands together and looking extremely pompous. “Excellent! That's the whole point, you know - international magical cooperation!” To Harry's displeasure, Percy now took Padma's vacated seat. The top table was now empty; Professor Dumbledore was dancing with Professor Sprout, Ludo Bagman with Professor McGonagall; Madame Maxime and Hagrid were cutting a wide path around the dance floor as they waltzed through the students, and Karkaroff was nowhere to be seen. When the next song ended, everybody applauded once more, and Harry saw Ludo Bagman kiss Professor McGonagall's hand and make his way back through the crowds, at which point Fred and George accosted him. “What do they think they're doing, annoying senior Ministry members?” Percy hissed, watching Fred and George suspiciously. “No respect…” Ludo Bagman shook off Fred and George fairly quickly, however, and, spotting Harry, waved and came over to their table. “I hope my brothers weren't bothering you, Mr. Bagman?” said Percy at once. “What? Oh not at all, not at all!” said Bagman. “No, they were just telling me a bit more about those fake wands of theirs. Wondering if I could advise them on the marketing. I've promised to put them in touch with a couple of contacts of mine at Zonko's Joke Shop.…” Percy didn't look happy about this at all, and Harry was prepared to bet he would be rushing to tell Mrs. Weasley about this the moment he got home. Apparently Fred and George's plans had grown even more ambitious lately, if they were hoping to sell to the public. Bagman opened his mouth to ask Harry something, but Percy diverted him. “How do you feel the tournament's going, Mr. Bagman? Our department's quite satisfied - the hitch with the Goblet of Fire” - he glanced at Harry - “was a little unfortunate, of course, but it seems to have gone very smoothly since, don't you think?” “Oh yes,” Bagman said cheerfully, “it's all been enormous fun. How's old Barty doing? Shame he couldn't come.” “Oh I'm sure Mr. Crouch will be up and about in no time,” said Percy importantly, “but in the meantime, I'm more than willing to take up the slack. Of course, it's not all attending balls” - he laughed airily - “oh no, I've had to deal with all sorts of things that have cropped up in his absence - you heard Ali Bashir was caught smuggling a consignment of flying carpets into the country? And then we've been trying to persuade the Transylvanians to sign the International Ban on Dueling. I've got a meeting with their Head of Magical Cooperation in the new year -” “Let's go for a walk,” Ron muttered to Harry, “get away from Percy.…” Pretending they wanted more drinks. Harry and Ron left the table, edged around the dance floor, and slipped out into the entrance hall. The front doors stood open, and the fluttering fairy lights in the rose garden winked and twinkled as they went down the front steps, where they found themselves surrounded by bushes; winding, ornamental paths; and large stone statues. Harry could hear splashing water, which sounded like a fountain. Here and there, people were sitting on carved benches. He and Ron set off along one of the winding paths through the rosebushes, but they had gone only a short way when they heard an unpleasantly familiar voice. “…don't see what there is to fuss about, Igor.” “Severus, you cannot pretend this isn't happening!” Karkaroffs voice sounded anxious and hushed, as though keen not to be overheard. “It's been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can't deny it -” “Then flee,” said Snape's voice curtly. “Flee - I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts.” Snape and Karkaroff came around the corner. Snape had his wand out and was blasting rosebushes apart, his expression most ill-natured. Squeals issued from many of the bushes, and dark shapes emerged from them. “Ten points from Ravenclaw, Fawcett!” Snape snarled as a girl ran past him. “And ten points from Hufflepuff too, Stebbins!” as a boy went rushing after her. “And what are you two doing?” he added, catching sight of Harry and Ron on the path ahead. Karkaroff, Harry saw, looked slightly discomposed to see them standing there. His hand went nervously to his goatee, and he began winding it around his finger. “We re walking,” Ron told Snape shortly. “Not against the law, is it?” “Keep walking, then!” Snape snarled, and he brushed past them, his long black cloak billowing out behind him. Karkaroff hurried away after Snape. Harry and Ron continued down the path. “What's got Karkaroff all worried?” Ron muttered. “And since when have he and Snape been on first-name terms?"said Harry slowly. They had reached a large stone reindeer now, over which they could see the sparkling jets of a tall fountain. The shadowy outlines of two enormous people were visible on a stone bench, watching the water in the moonlight. And then Harry heard Hagrid speak. “Momen’ I saw yeh, I knew,” he was saying, in an oddly husky voice. Harry and Ron froze. This didn't sound like the sort of scene they ought to walk in on, somehow.…Harry looked around, back up the path, and saw Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies standing half-concealed in a rosebush nearby. He tapped Ron on the shoulder and jerked his head toward them, meaning that they could easily sneak off that way without being noticed (Fleur and Davies looked very busy to Harry), but Ron, eyes widening in horror at the sight of Fleur, shook his head vigorously, and pulled Harry deeper into the shadows behind the reindeer. “What did you know, ‘Agrid?” said Madame Maxime, a purr in her low voice. Harry definitely didn't want to listen to this; he knew Hagrid would hate to be overheard in a situation like this (he certainly would have) - if it had been possible he would have put his fingers in his ears and hummed loudly, but that wasn't really an option. Instead he tried to interest himself in a beetle crawling along the stone reindeer's back, but the beetle just wasn't interesting enough to block out Hagrid's next words. “I jus’ knew…knew you were like me.…Was it yer mother or yer father?” “I - I don't know what you mean, ‘Agrid.…” “It was my mother,” said Hagrid quietly. “She was one o’ the las’ ones in Britain. ‘Course, I can’ remember her too well…she left, see. When I was abou’ three. She wasn’ really the maternal sort. Well…it's not in their natures, is it? Dunno what happened to her…might be dead fer all I know.…” Madame Maxime didn't say anything. And Harry, in spite of himself, took his eyes off the beetle and looked over the top of the reindeer's antlers, listening.…He had never heard Hagrid talk about his childhood before. “Me dad was broken-hearted when she wen'. Tiny little bloke, my dad was. By the time I was six I could lift him up an’ put him on top o’ the dresser if he annoyed me. Used ter make him laugh.…"Hagrid's deep voice broke. Madame Maxime was listening, motionless, apparently staring at the silvery fountain. “Dad raised me…but he died, o’ course, jus’ after I started school. Sorta had ter make me own way after that. Dumbledore was a real help, mind. Very kind ter me, he was.…” Hagrid pulled out a large spotted silk handkerchief and blew his nose heavily. “So…anyway…enough abou’ me. What about you? Which side you got it on?” But Madame Maxime had suddenly got to her feet. “It is chilly,” she said - but whatever the weather was doing, it was nowhere near as cold as her voice. “I think I will go in now.” “Eh?” said Hagrid blankly. “No, don go! I've - I've never met another one before!” “Anuzzer what, precisely?” said Madame Maxime, her tone icy. Harry could have told Hagrid it was best not to answer; he stood there in the shadows gritting his teeth, hoping against hope he wouldn't - but it was no good. “Another half-giant, o’ course!” said Hagrid. “'Ow dare you!” shrieked Madame Maxime. Her voice exploded through the peaceful night air like a foghorn; behind him. Harry heard Fleur and Roger fall out of their rosebush. “I ‘ave nevair been more insulted in my life! ‘Alf-giant? Moi? I ‘ave - I ‘ave big bones!” She stormed away; great multicolored swarms of fairies rose into the air as she passed, angrily pushing aside bushes. Hagrid was still sitting on the bench, staring after her. It was much too dark to make out his expression. Then, after about a minute, he stood up and strode away, not back to the castle, but off out into the dark grounds in the direction of his cabin. “C'mon,” Harry said, very quietly to Ron. “Let's go.…” But Ron didn't move. “What's up?” said Harry, looking at him. Ron looked around at Harry, his expression very serious indeed. “Did you know?” he whispered. “About Hagrid being half-giant?” “No,” Harry said, shrugging. “So what?” He knew immediately, from the look Ron was giving him, that he was once again revealing his ignorance of the wizarding world. Brought up by the Dursleys, there were many things that wizards took for granted that were revelations to Harry, but these surprises had become fewer with each successive year. Now, however, he could tell that most wizards would not have said “So what?” upon finding out that one of their friends had a giantess for a mother. “I'll explain inside,” said Ron quietly, “c'mon….” Fleur and Roger Davies had disappeared, probably into a more private clump of bushes. Harry and Ron returned to the Great Hall. Parvati and Padma were now sitting at a distant table with a whole crowd of Beauxbatons boys, and Hermione was once more dancing with Krum. Harry and Ron sat down at a table far removed from the dance floor. “So?” Harry prompted Ron. “What's the problem with giants?” “Well, they're…they're…” Ron struggled for words. “…not very nice,” he finished lamely. “Who cares?” Harry said. “There's nothing wrong with Hagrid!” “I know there isn't, but…blimey, no wonder he keeps it quiet,” Ron said, shaking his head. “I always thought he'd got in the way of a bad Engorgement Charm when he was a kid or something. Didn't like to mention it.…” “But what's it matter if his mother was a giantess?” said Harry. “Well…no one who knows him will care, ‘cos they'll know he's not dangerous,” said Ron slowly. “But…Harry, they're just vicious, giants. It's like Hagrid said, it's in their natures, they're like trolls…they just like killing, everyone knows that. There aren't any left in Britain now, though.” “What happened to them?” “Well, they were dying out anyway, and then loads got themselves killed by Aurors. There're supposed to be giants abroad, though.…They hide out in mountains mostly.…” “I don't know who Maxime thinks she's kidding,” Harry said, watching Madame Maxime sitting alone at the judges’ table, looking very somber. “If Hagrid's half-giant, she definitely is. Big bones.…the only thing that's got bigger bones than her is a dinosaur.” Harry and Ron spent the rest of the ball discussing giants in their corner, neither of them having any inclination to dance. Harry tried not to watch Cho and Cedric too much; it gave him a strong desire to kick something. When the Weird Sisters finished playing at midnight, everyone gave them a last, loud round of applause and started to wend their way into the entrance hall. Many people were expressing the wish that the ball could have gone on longer, but Harry was perfectly happy to be going to bed; as far as he was concerned, the evening hadn't been much fun. Out in the entrance hall, Harry and Ron saw Hermione saying good night to Krum before he went back to the Durmstrang ship. She gave Ron a very cold look and swept past him up the marble staircase without speaking. Harry and Ron followed her, but halfway up the staircase Harry heard someone calling him. “Hey-Harry!” It was Cedric Diggory. Harry could see Cho waiting for him in the entrance hall below. “Yeah?” said Harry coldly as Cedric ran up the stairs toward him. Cedric looked as though he didn't want to say whatever it was in front of Ron, who shrugged, looking bad-tempered, and continued to climb the stairs. “Listen…” Cedric lowered his voice as Ron disappeared. “I owe you one for telling me about the dragons. You know that golden egg? Does yours wail when you open it?” “Yeah,” said Harry. “Well…take a bath, okay?” “What?” “Take a bath, and - er - take the egg with you, and - er - just mull things over in the hot water. It'll help you think.…Trust me.” Harry stared at him. “Tell you what,” Cedric said, “use the prefects’ bathroom. Fourth door to the left of that statue of Boris the Bewildered on the fifth floor. Password's ‘pine fresh.’ Gotta go…want to say good night -” He grinned at Harry again and hurried back down the stairs to Cho. Harry walked back to Gryffindor Tower alone. That had been extremely strange advice. Why would a bath help him to work out what the wailing egg meant? Was Cedric pulling his leg? Was he trying to make Harry look like a fool, so Cho would like him even more by comparison? The Fat Lady and her friend Vi were snoozing in the picture over the portrait hole. Harry had to yell “Fairy lights!” before he woke them up, and when he did, they were extremely irritated. He climbed into the common room and found Ron and Hermione having a blazing row. Standing ten feet apart, they were bellowing at each other, each scarlet in the face. “Well, if you don't like it, you know what the solution is, don't you?” yelled Hermione; her hair was coming down out of its elegant bun now, and her face was screwed up in anger. “Oh yeah?” Ron yelled back. “What's that?” “Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!” Ron mouthed soundlessly like a goldfish out of water as Hermione turned on her heel and stormed up the girls’ staircase to bed. Ron turned to look at Harry. “Well,” he sputtered, looking thunderstruck, “well - that just proves - completely missed the point -” Harry didn't say anything. He liked being back on speaking terms with Ron too much to speak his mind right now - but he somehow thought that Hermione had gotten the point much better than Ron had. 第二三章 圣诞舞会 尽管第四年假期会有大量沉重的功课，但当学期结束时，哈利却没有心情去做，而是把这圣诞前夕的一星期用来跟其他人尽情地玩乐。格林芬顿塔这时几乎与学期中一样热闹，同时弗来德和乔治的淡黄色奶油也已取得巨大的成功，因此在假期开始后的几天，人们不停地在这地方变成羽毛，然而不久，所有的格林芬顿人已学会用极其审慎的态度对待其他任何人给的食物，以防其中藏有淡黄色奶油。 乔治向哈利透露说他和弗来德现在正致力于研究另外某种东西，哈利在心里下决心从今以后再不会接受弗来德和乔治所给的东西，即使是油炸蕃薯片。因为他仍然不能忘记达德里和他的长舌太妃糖。 城堡和地上都下了厚厚一层雪，发蓝色的比斯贝顿马车看起来像一个大大的、寒冷的、结冰的南瓜一样停在那所铺满冰雪的姜饼面包房子旁——那是哈格力的小屋；而那艘丹姆斯安号船的舷窗被冰覆盖住了，装备上是雪白的冰，那些佣人小精灵在厨房里正抢着吃一堆丰富的，暖哄哄的炖菜和可口的布丁，只有芙璐-迪来高看起来好像在抱怨些什么了。 “这些霍格瓦彻食物太油腻了！”当哈利一天晚上跟在她背后离开大厅时，听到她脾气暴躁地说，(罗恩躲在哈利的背后，极力避免被芙璐发现)。“我的礼裙都不合身了！” “噢，真是悲剧，”当芙璐走进入口大堂时荷米恩活泼地说，“她真的太顾着自己了，对吧？” “荷米恩，你将会跟谁一起去舞会？”罗恩问。 他老对她提着这问题，希望用这来在她最意想不到时吓她一跳，然而，荷米恩只是微微皱眉说：“我不会告诉你，你只是捉弄我罢了。” “你开玩笑吧，威斯里，”马尔夫说，“你不打算告诉我有人已约了她？是不是臼齿长长的马德布莱吗？” 哈利和罗恩一起缠着不放，但荷米恩却望过马尔夫的肩膀向别人打招呼：“您好，史纳皮教授！” 马尔夫脸煞地白了并向后退了几步，疯狂地用目光搜寻史纳皮，而后者正在餐桌旁边，品尝着炖菜。 “你是小侦探吗，马尔夫？”荷米恩伤人地说，然后她和哈利和罗恩一边上着大理石楼梯一面开怀大笑。 “荷米恩，”罗恩在旁看着她，突然皱眉说，“你的牙……” “怎么了？”她说。 “噢，很奇怪……我刚看到……” “当然了——难道你想我留着马尔夫给我的尖牙吗？” “不，我意思是……它们现在全部……直的而且——而且大小正常。” 荷米恩突然很顽皮地咧嘴笑了，这时连哈利都注意了：那种笑容果然跟他所记得的不一样。 “噢……当我跑去找波姆弗雷女士让她把它们收缩时，她举起一面镜子，并告诉我当它们变成正常的样子时让她停下来，”她说，“但我却——让她再继续一点，”她笑得更野了，“爸爸妈妈不会太高兴的，我已尽力说服他们让我收缩它们很久了，但他们想我继续戴牙齿矫正器，你知道的，他们俩是牙医，他们不认为牙齿跟魔法会——看！ 皮威军的后面！“ 罗恩的小猫头鹰在载满冰柱的栏杆上疯狂地格格地叫着，它的腿上缠着一卷羊皮纸。经过的人都指着它笑，一群三年级的女孩停下来说道：“噢，看看这只小猫头鹰多可爱！” “这只长着羽毛的蠢物！”罗恩责骂道，边登上楼梯边抓住皮威军，“把信送到收信人那儿去，别再到处出丑了！” 皮威军把头从罗恩的拳头里伸出来，高兴地枭叫着。三年级的女孩们都很震惊。 “快离开吧！”罗恩向她们催促道，挥动着手里抓着的皮威军。当它飞上天时，皮威军叫得比刚才更高兴了。“拿去吧，哈利。”当那群三年级的女生丢脸地怏怏离开后，罗恩小声地插话。他从皮威军的腿上取下西里斯的回信，哈利把它放进口袋里，然后两人赶回格林芬顿塔看信。 在这所普通房子里，每个人都因忙于释放更多的假日水汽蒸汽而没有注意到其他人在做什么。哈利，罗恩和荷米恩分开坐在一扇总是铺满雪的黑色窗子旁边，然后哈利开始看信了：“亲爱的哈利：祝贺你打败号尾龙——这个把你的名字填在火杯名单上的人，无论是谁现在应该不会太快活了吧！我打算建议你用一种”去敌威特“咒语，因为龙的弱点在于它的眼睛——”这是克伦做到的！“荷米恩低语。 ——但我印像中，你的方法更好。 但不要自满，哈利，你只完成一项任务，任何人都会把你交出来——如果他们想伤害你的话，因为比赛会得到更多的机会，把眼睛放亮点，尤其我们说的这个人在你左右时，——并且尽力让你自己避免陷入麻烦中。保持联络吧，我还想听到不寻常的事情。 西里斯“ “他的语气听起来真像多比，”哈利平静地说着，把信折起来放进他的外套里，“经常保持警惕！他以为我是闭着眼睛撞上墙去……” “但他是对的，哈利，”荷米恩说，“你仍有两个任务要完成，你真的应该看一眼那只蛋，知道吧，然后开始想出它的意味……” “荷米恩，他上了年纪了，”罗恩催促着，“来一盘棋吧，哈利？” “噢，好的，”哈利说。在这时，他注意到荷米恩脸上的表情，他说，“快别这样，有这些嗓音干扰着我又怎么集中精神呢？在这地方我想不到这只蛋的暗示。” “噢，希望不是，”她叹气道，然后坐下看他们下棋，这场棋因为有罗恩这样一个令人兴奋的棋伴，加上一对不顾一切的勇敢的兵和一只十分凶狠的像，所以下得很精彩。哈利在圣诞节这天突然醒来，正想弄清楚是什么让他突然清醒过来，他睁开眼，看到在黑暗中有个巨大的，圆圆的，有着绿色眼睛的东西正盯着自己，近得几乎鼻子贴着鼻子。 “多比，”哈利大喊，一边从这小精灵身边爬开，几乎跌下床，“不要这样！” “多比很抱歉，先生！”多比急忙吱吱地叫道，用他长长的手指捂住嘴巴向后退了一下，“多比只想祝愿哈利‘圣诞快乐’并带给他一份礼物，先生！哈利-波特说过多比能时常来看看他的，先生！” “没事的。”哈利说，喘气喘得比刚才更快，而心率恢复到正常，“只是刺激我，好吧，别像刚才那样弯身到我身上……” 哈利把床帘拉开，从床头的桌子上拿回眼镜，然后戴上，他的大喊吵醒了罗恩、西摩斯、迪恩和尼维尔，他们全透过他们床帘的缝隙看出来，睡眼朦胧而且头发乱糟糟。 “有人袭击你吗，哈利？”西摩斯困倦地问。 “不是，多比而已，”哈利咕味着，“去睡吧。” “哪……礼物！”西摩斯注意到在床脚下有一大堆东西后说道。 罗恩、迪恩和尼维尔决定既然他们已醒了，不如也下床去拆礼物吧。 哈利转回向着多比，后者正紧张地站在哈利床边，依然担心着自己带给哈利的烦恼，在他的茶壶套的顶端的小孔里系着一根圣诞节的小玩意。 “多比能够给哈利他的礼物吗？”它试探着说。 “当然，”哈利说，“呃，我也有东西要送给你。” 这只是谎话，他根本没买什么东西送给多比，但他以很快地动作打开他的皮箱，拿出一双起着非常多小疙瘩的短袜，它们是他所有短袜中最旧最脏的，是深黄色的曾经属于维能姨丈所有的。它们起着很多小疙瘩的原因是哈利这一年来用来垫他的帆鞋，他拿出帆鞋把短袜递给多比，说道，“对不起，我忘了把它们包起来……” 但，多比绝对是高兴的。 “短袜是多比最喜欢东西，先生！”它说，说着扯掉腿上残旧的那双，然后穿上维能姨丈的这双，“我现在有七双了，先生……但是，先生……”他说，而且眼睁得大大的，把两只袜子都拉得最高，好让它们伸到它的短裤的底部，“商店里的人弄错了，哈利-波特，他们给了你两只一模一样的！” “啊，不是吧，哈利，你怎么没有发现呀？”罗恩说，在他的床上咧嘴笑着，床上撒满了包装纸。“告诉你吧，多比，来这里拿上这两个，你可以很好地配搭着穿，这里还有一种套头毛衣。” 他扔给多比一双还没包好的短袜和一件威斯里太太刚送的手织毛衣。 多比陶醉在高兴里，“先生真是太好了！”它吱吱地说，眼眶盈着泪，向罗恩深深地鞠了一个躬，“多比知道先生一定会成为一位伟大的男巫的，因为他是哈利。波特先生伟大的朋友，但多比以前并不知道他同样是有着慷慨的精神，高尚的品质和无私。” “只是一双袜子而已嘛，”罗恩说，尽管看起来还是相当高兴，但耳朵却红透了，“哇，哈利——”他拆开哈利的礼物，是一顶酷得利加能帽子，“真帅！”他往他的头上塞，头发被碰撞得乱乱的。 多比递给哈利一包东西，里面原来是一双短袜子。 “它们是我亲手做的，先生！”这个小精灵高兴地说：“羊毛是我用自己的工钱买的，先生！” 左边的短袜是鲜红色的，上面有着扫帚形状的图案；右边的那只是绿色的，有着小偷模样的图案。 “他们……他们真的是……噢，谢谢你，多比。”哈利说，然后把袜子穿上，这使得多比的眼睛几乎涌出了眼泪。 “多比得走了，先生，我们已经在厨房里做好早餐！”多比说着，匆匆走出了房间，经过时挥手向罗恩和其他人说再见。 比起多比送来的那双奇怪的短袜，哈利对其他的礼物就满意得很，但是明显地除了杜斯利的那份，那是一个单人的薄织品，一种低价货——哈利猜他们送的是长舌太妃糖，荷米恩送给哈利一本《不列颠及爱尔兰的快迪斯队》，而罗恩呢，送了胀鼓鼓的一袋梳子，西里斯则送了一把手刀，上面还有着锁东西的和开锁的、拆东西和包扎东西的工具；而哈格力，送了一大盒糖果，全都是哈利的最爱——贝蒂。波特的什锦豆、巧克力青蛙糖，杜伯最美味的泡泡糖，还有聪明蜜蜂泡沫饮料，当然还有威斯里太太的那份，里面有一件新的套头毛衣(哈利想应该是查理告诉了她关于号尾龙的事)和很多家庭制作的小馅饼。 哈利和罗恩在起居室里碰见荷米恩，然后一起去吃早餐，他们早上大部分时间都待在格林芬顿塔，那里每个人都在拆着礼物，然后回到大厅享受了一顿丰富的午餐，这顿午餐至少有火鸡和圣诞布了，和一大堆卷心菜和神奇的饼干。 到下午，他们来到屋外，雪地并未被踏过，除了丹姆斯安和比尔贝顿的学生在去城堡的途中弄出了几道深深的沟痕，荷米恩宁愿呆在一旁看哈利和罗恩兄弟的雪球战也不愿参加。到五点钟时，她说要回到楼上去为舞会作好准备。 “什么，你要三小时来作准备？”罗恩不可置信地看着她说，却没注意到这时，乔治扔来一个大雪球，罗恩的头重重挨了一击，“你跟谁一起去呀？”他向荷米恩大喊道，但她只是挥了挥手，然后消失在通往城堡的石梯的末端。 今年圣诞节不会有茶会了，因为今晚的舞会中还会有盛宴。七点时，大家都难以看准对方了，其他人就让他们停止了这场雪战，然后一大群回到休息室，胖大婶摆着他的胖身体跟朋友维利坐在楼梯旁，两人都喝得很醉，巧克力利口酒的空瓶子乱七八糟地堆在她的画像的下面。 “野兽打架嘛，就是这种了。”当大家说了口令。 哈利，罗恩，西摩斯，迪思和尼维尔在他们的房间里换上了礼服。 每个都显得很自信，却远远比不上罗恩。他在一个角落上对着一面长镜子，细细观察镜中的自己，脸上表请让人胆寒，没有人注意到其实他的礼服看起来更像一条裙子，为了使自己的衣服更显出自己的男子气概，他在领口和袖口处都喷了一种斯林牌的香水，效果不错，至少他不用扎领带，尽管他做了这件优雅的事，但衣服的边上依旧破得让人沮丧。 他们边走下楼梯。 “我还是搞不懂你们在一年里是怎么弄到这些漂亮的女孩的？” 迪恩咕哝着。 “动物的独有魅力嘛。”罗恩忧愁的说着，拔去袖口断掉的线。 休息室里呈现一派怪怪的景像，挤满了穿着五颜六色的礼服的人，跟以往的一片黑色不一样。帕维提正在楼梯口等着哈利，她穿着粉红色礼服，用金线扎着辫子，手上戴着闪闪发光的手周，看起来相当漂亮。看到她没在傻笑，哈利松了一口气。 “你，呃，看起来很漂亮。”他笨拙地说。 “谢谢。”她说，“帕得玛会在门口大厅里等你！”她向罗恩说。 “好的。”罗恩说着，四处张望，“荷米恩在哪儿？” 帕维提耸耸肩说：“我们下去吧，哈利。” “好的。”哈利说。弗来德(经过哈利身旁向肖像的房子走去时) 向他使了一个眼色。 入口大厅里也全是学生，磨蹭着等着八点赶快到来，这时大厅的门开了，来自各个房间的人们挤进人群里互相寻找自己的舞伴，帕维提找到姐姐帕得玛，然后把她带到哈利跟前。 “您好！”穿着鲜绿色礼服的帕得玛看起来跟帕维提一样漂亮，她好像并不热心于让罗恩当她的舞伴。在她上下打量罗恩时，眼睛在他破烂的领口和袖口处停了下来。 “你好！”罗恩说，没看她，盯着人群，“噢，不……” 他微屈着膝躲在哈利背后，因为芙璐-迪来高正经过，他身上穿着让人目眩的银灰色的缎子，身旁陪伴着卫文卡罗快迪斯队长罗杰。 戴维斯，当他们走远了，罗恩才站直身子，越过人群的上方张望。 “荷米恩在哪儿？”他又说了。 一群史林德林的学生从城里的休息室出来一步步走上楼来，马尔夫走在最前面，她穿著有高领的天鹅绒裙子，这在哈利看来，像一个主教，班西。帕金森抓着马尔夫的手臂，穿着一件皱皱的粉红色裙子。克来伯和高尔都穿着绿色的衣服，看起来就像是长着苔薛的石头。哈利不愿看到他们中任何一个，便去找舞伴了。 橡木做的前门开了，每个人都望过去，只见丹姆斯安的学生和卡克罗夫教授进来了。克伦在这群人的最前面，身边陪同着一位哈利不认识的身穿蓝裙的漂亮女孩。越过他们的头哈利看到堡前的一块草地已变成里面全是仙女灯——无数的栩栩如生的仙女坐在玫瑰花丛里，她们是用魔法变成的，在一尊尊圣诞老人和驯鹿的雕像上空振动着翅膀。 这时，听到麦康娜教授的声音说：先生们请过来这儿！ 帕维提整理了一下她的手镯，容光焕发，她和哈利对罗恩和帕得玛说：“待会儿见。”然后走上前去，吱吱喳喳地叫着人们分出一条道让她通过。麦康娜教授，穿着格子裙子，帽子的边上套了一个相当丑的蓟花环，她告诉他们在门一旁等候让其他人先进去，当其余的学生坐下后，他们才踏着进行式的步伐走入大厅。芙璐。迪来高和罗杰。 戴维斯坐在最近门的地方，戴维斯似乎为能有芙璐充当舞伴的好运气而晕眩着，他的目光一刻也没离开过她。塞德里克和卓也慢慢走过来了，他的视线从他们身上跳开以便避开跟他们说话，转而落在克伦身旁的一位女孩身上，顿时他瞪目结舌了。 是荷米恩！ 但她看起来却一点也不像荷米恩。她整理过她的头发，它们不再是一丛东西了，反之变得光滑柔亮，在脑门上被一只高贵的蝴蝶结扎着。身上穿着用飘逸的海螺蓝的料子做的裙子，她的身体保持着不一般的姿态——可能是她少背了二十左右本书的缘故吧。她还在微笑(相当紧张，这可是真的)，但她前排牙齿变小了，这会儿比以前更明显了，哈利不明白为什么他之前没发现。 “嘿，哈利！”她说，“嘿，帕维提！” 帕维提瞪着荷米恩，一副挫败十足的不相信的神情。当通向大厅的门打开时，克伦的拥护者们从图书室里出来，迈着阔步经过，往荷米恩投来深深厌恶的目光，班西。帕金森虽然似乎并不在乎她们，却在和马尔夫一起经过时也瞪着她们，而罗恩走过时却没有望她一眼。 一等到每个人都坐进大厅里，麦康娜教授让选手们和舞伴一双双地排成一行，尾随着她。他们照办了，当他们走进大厅，并向着大厅评判们坐在一起的大圆桌走去时，全场人鼓掌起来。 大厅的所有墙上部铺着银色闪烁的霜，数以百计的槲寄生花环和常春藤交织在星形的黑色天花板上。屋里的桌子都刷过油漆，另外，还有大约一百张颇小，用灯笼照射着的桌子，每张能坐十二人。 哈利竭力让自己不致于跌倒，帕维提似乎很享受，她一边向在场每个人皆投以微笑，一边强有力地提示着哈利，这足以让他觉得自己像一只表演的狗，而她正牵着他走。当他走近主桌时，他看见罗恩和帕得玛。罗恩正眯着眼望着经过的荷米恩，而帕得玛看起来很忧郁。 当选手们走近主桌时，丹伯多高兴地微笑着，但卡克罗夫在他注意到克伦和荷米恩走近时，表情跟罗恩明显一样，露得。巴格蒙今天晚上穿着鲜紫色配有黄色图案的裙子，正跟其他学生一样热情地拍手，而玛西姆女士，丢下她每天穿的黑缎子制服，穿上一件飘逸的淡紫色丝质长袍，正礼貌地向他们投以掌声，但哈利突然察觉到克劳斯先生并没有出现，桌子第五个座位被伯希。威斯里占去了。 当选手和他们的舞伴们走近桌子，伯希拉开这张在他旁边的空椅子，明显地望着哈利。哈利懂得了他的暗示便坐在伯希的旁边，伯希穿着一件新造的海军蓝礼服，一副得意的表情。 “我被提升了。”哈利没有问他他就说了出来。从他的语气中，他好像已经被宣布当上了大学的最高领导者似的。“我现在是克劳斯先生的私人助手了，我是代表克劳斯先生来这里的。” “他为什么不来？”哈利问。他可不希望整顿晚餐都在听演讲。 “我恐怕只能说克劳斯先生身体不舒服，一点也不好，从世界杯之后就没好过，这一点也不令人觉得意外，工作过度嘛，他不再年轻了嘛，尽管他仍有着才干。当然，心思还是跟以前一样厉害。但世界杯对整个内阁是一次惨痛的失败，在那以后，克劳斯先生因为他的家里和小精灵布琳(不知她叫什么)犯的过失承受了极大的打击，他立刻把她遣走了，但——噢，就如我所说的，他还是不停地干，他需要别人的照顾，而我认为自从她离开以后，他明显在家里找不到安慰，而且以后我们还要安排一个竞赛和赛后结果——那个背叛的女人则在到处造谣——不，可怜的人，他应该过一个宁静的圣诞的，我很高兴他知道他已有了他可以放心地传位的人了。” 哈利很想问克劳斯先生是否已叫伯希“看天气”了，但最后还是忍住了。 那些闪闪发光的盘子没有任何食物，但在每个人的面前都放着一张小菜单，哈利不确定地拿起来，向四处望了一下——没有一个待应，然而丹伯多仔细地看一下自己的菜单，然后对着他的盘子响亮说道，“排骨！” 排骨上来了。桌子上其余的人领会了这个方法以后都纷纷向自己的盘子下订单，哈利瞥了一下荷米恩，看她对这种更复杂的新用膳方法有何感受。(对佣人小精灵来说，这肯定意味著有大量的额外功夫要做了)但，荷米恩似乎丝毫也没想过这个，她正忙着跟维特。克伦说话，几乎对她正在吃的东西没看上一眼。 哈利记得他事实上从来没听过克伦说话，但他现在确实正在说，而且十分热情呢。 “噢，我们也有一个城堡，没有这个大、也没有这个舒服，我是这样想的。”他正向荷米恩倾诉着，“我们只有四层，而且火炉只会因为魔法的需要才会点燃，但我们的底层比这些大——尽管在冬天，我们几乎都没有阳光，所以我们也不喜欢，但在夏天里，我们每天都会飞，越过湖泊和山脉——” “好了，好了，维特。”卡克罗夫说，嘴上笑着却掩盖不住他那双冷冰冰的眼睛，“别再说了，否则你的这位迷人的朋友会知道我们的藏身地方了！” 丹伯多笑了，眼睛眨着，“这样保密……别人会不欢迎到访者呢！” “噢，丹伯多。”卡克罗夫说，尽可能地显示着他的黄牙齿，“我们是为了保护我们自己的领地，难道不是？因为只有我们知道学校的秘密并为之自豪，保卫它难道不对吗？” “噢，我从来做梦也没想过我知道霍格瓦彻的全部秘密。”丹伯多友好地说，“譬如，单是今天早上，我要去洗澡房，却兜错了方向，发现了一间我从未到过的非常好的房子里，里面有一大堆便壶，当我走近一看，我发觉这间房子刷过油漆。但我必须努力记住这一切，可能它只会在早上五点半才会出现。或者它只会在月亮变成四分之一的时出才会出现，或者当探求者有一个特别健全的膀眈的时候才会出现。” 哈利向着他那盘辣味的蔬菜炖肉哼了一声，伯希皱眉但丹伯多向下使了一个小眼色。 同时间，芙璐-迪来高向罗杰-戴维斯批评着霍格瓦彻的装饰品。 “这算不上什么，”她轻视地说，望着大厅周围的那些发光的墙，“在比尔贝顿的宫殿里，在克利马斯的食堂里到处是冰雕，它们不会融化，当然，他们好像巨大的钻石雕像，照亮了整个地方，而且食物一流，并且一群木做的美少女在我们吃饭时唱歌，在我们的大厅里没有任何这样丑的装甲，如果有调皮鬼闯进比尔贝顿他就会被这样赶出走。”说着她不耐烦地用手拍了一下桌子。 罗杰-戴维斯用模糊的目光望着她讲话时的脸，叉子老到不了口中，哈利认为戴维斯太忙于注视着芙璐，把她说的每一个字都吞进肚子里去。 “真对。”戴维斯很快地说，模仿芙璐用手拍在桌子上，“就像那样，对。” 哈利向大厅四处望了一下，哈格力坐在其中一张餐子里，他的身体裹在他那件毛茸茸很糟糕的啡色套装里了，眼瞪着主桌。哈利看到他挥了一下手，随着方向望去，看到玛西姆女士也挥了一下手，她的猫眼石在烛光中闪闪发光。 荷米恩这时正教克伦把自己的名字说得准，他老是把她叫成“荷米欧”。 “荷一米一恩。”她很慢，清楚地说。 “荷一米一恩。 “接近了。”她说，注意到哈利的目光，咧嘴笑了起来。 食物吃完以后，丹伯多站起来让学生同样地站起来，然后，他挥了一下手，全部桌子都追回墙边，地板一下子干净，然后他用魔法让一个舞台沿着右边平地升了起来，上面有一套鼓、几把吉它、一把琵琶、一把大提琴，还有一些苏格兰风笛。 非常姐妹在疯狂热情地掌声中上了台，她们全身毛茸茸的，穿上一件曾被故意撕破的黑色礼服，拿起她们的乐器，而哈利呢，因为看她们过于入神了，几乎忘了接着发生什么，突然间才意识到所有桌子上的灯都灭了，其他的选手和舞伴都站了起来。 “快来！”帕维提叱责道：“我们应该跳舞了。” 哈利站起身时被衣服绊了一下腿。非常姐妹口中蹦出一种缓慢，哀怨的声育。哈利走进亮堂堂的跳舞池，小心避免任何人的目光(他看见西摩斯和迪恩向他招手、窃笑)，而下一刻，帕维提抓住了他的手，一只放在自己腰上，一只紧握在手里。 情况还不算太坏，哈利边想，边在那儿慢慢地旋转着(帕维提正在提示)他把目光投在观看着的人们的脸上，很快地，他们中很多人也走进了舞池，以致选手们已不再是注意力的焦点了，尼维尔和金妮在附近跳着(他看见金妮不时因为被尼维尔踩到脚而后退)，而丹伯多正跟玛西姆夫人跳着华尔兹，他那顶尖帽顶端只能碰到她的下巴，正使他相形见细，然而，虽然她是这样一个身材健壮的女人，但动作移动起来十分优雅。莫迪正和仙妮斯特教授跳着十分难看的两步舞，她紧张地避免着他的木腿。 “多漂亮的短袜，波特！”当莫迪经过时，他那只魔幻般的眼睛盯着哈利的礼服。 “噢，是，多比这只佣人精灵为我织的。”哈利说着，咧着嘴笑。 “他很令人毛骨悚然，叫他走开。”帕维提小声说道，“真是看都不想看他一眼！” 哈利听到风笛奏出最后的一个颤动音声符，松了一口气。非常姐妹停止了弹奏，掌声再一次响通大厅，哈利立即放开了帕维提，“我们坐下吧，好吗？” “噢一旦是——这真好听！”当非常姐妹唱起一首比较轻快的新歌时，帕维提说。 “哦，我可不喜欢。”哈特说谎道。然后拉着她离开舞池，跑过弗来德和恩格利纳旁边，他们两个正跳的起劲呢，以至于在他们周围跳的人都因为怕被他们撞倒而向后退开了。哈利他们来到了罗恩和帕得玛坐着的桌子边。 “怎么样？”哈利问罗恩，坐下来开了一瓶黄油啤酒。 罗恩没回答。他在看着荷米恩和克伦在旁边跳舞，帕得玛则双手交叉，翘起二郎腿，一只脚随着音乐轻轻摆动。时不时地转过头来，很不高兴地看了看罗恩，而罗恩根本就忽视了她的存在。帕维提在哈利的另一边坐下了，也叉着双手，翘起二郎腿，几分钟内，就被一个从比尔贝顿来的男孩邀请去跳舞。 “你不介意吧，哈利？”帕维提说。 “什么？”哈利说，他正看着卓和帕得玛呢。 “噢，没什么。”帕维提急忙说，然后起身和那从比尔贝顿斯来的男孩离开了。这首曲子完了的时候，她还没回来。 荷米恩走过来在帕维提的位置坐下了，因为跳舞而脸色有点粉红色。 “嗨！”哈利说，罗恩则没出声。 “好热啊！”荷米恩说着，用手扇着风。“维特刚去拿饮料。” 罗恩很讨厌地望了她一眼。 “维特？”他说，“难道他还没让你叫他维奇吗？” 荷米恩很莫明其妙地望着他。 “你怎么啦？”她说。 “如果你不知道，”罗恩毫不留情地说，“那我也不准备告诉你了。” 荷米恩生气地瞪着他，然后望了一眼哈利，哈利在那里无奈地耸着肩。“罗恩，你说什么——？” “他是从丹姆斯安来的！”罗恩厉声说，“他是和哈利竞赛的！和霍格瓦彻是敌对的！你——你真是——”罗恩很显然是在搜索什么词，足以一针见血地控诉荷米恩的罪行，“和敌人建立友谊关系，那就是你干的好事！” 荷米恩的嘴张得大大的。 “不要这么愚蠢了！”她一会儿才缓过神来。“敌人！老实说——是谁一看到他抵达时就兴奋异常的？是谁想要他的亲笔签名的？又是谁捏了一个他的模型放在宿舍里的？” 罗恩装作没听见这些话，“我想，他请你的时候，你们两个都在图书馆，是吧？” “是啊。”荷米恩说，粉红色的脸颊显的更容光焕发了。“那又怎么样？” “那就是——你一直想找他和他一起跳舞，对吧？” “不，我没有！你真的很想知道，是不是？好，他——他说他每天都来图书馆，想找我说话，但是他总没能鼓起勇气！” 荷米恩急忙解释道，脸红得像帕维提的礼服的颜色一样。 “嗯，——那就是他的故事呀。”罗恩很猥亵地说。 “你这样说是什么意思？” “很明显啊，是不是？他是卡克罗夫的学生，对吧？他知道你在和谁交往……他只是想以此接近哈利——得到有关他的内部消息——或者想搞衰他——” 荷米恩看着罗恩，好像被他掴了一巴掌。她再说话的时候，声音都颤抖了。“告诉你，他从没问过任何一件关于哈利的事情，没有一件——” 罗恩很快地改变论调了。“那么他是希望你能帮他想出关于他那只蛋的主意了！我想，你们这些天一定在温暖的图书馆幽会和共同商量——” “我从没帮他想那只蛋的事情！”荷米恩说，已经气得忍无可忍了。“从来没有。你怎么可以说出这种话——我是希望哈利赢这场比赛的。哈利知道的，对不对，哈利？” “你这也未免太搞笑了吧。”罗恩嘲弄道。 “这次比赛本来就是要让我们认识外国巫师，并且和他们做朋友的！”荷米恩尖声叫道。 “不，不是这样的！”罗恩大声喊道。“ 人们开始瞪着他们了。 “罗恩，”哈利很安静地说，“我和克伦从来就没有过矛盾——” 但是罗恩也假装听不见哈利说话。 “你为什么不去找维奇，他会担心你跑到哪儿去的。”罗恩说。 “别叫他维奇！”荷米恩跳了起来，冲到舞池里，消失在人群中。 罗恩望着她的背影，脸上的表情是又生气又有一种满足感。 “你到底有没有想过要请我跳舞呀？”帕得玛问他。 “没想过。”罗恩说，仍然望着荷米恩离去的方向。 “好呀。”帕得玛厉声说，站起来，加入了帕维提和那个比尔贝顿斯男孩当中，那个男孩变出了他的一个朋友出来，速度快得连哈利都发誓说那只用了念一个召唤咒符的时间。 “荷米恩在哪里呢？”有声音在说。 克伦刚刚拿了两瓶黄油啤酒走了过来。 “不知道。”罗恩固执地说，抬头望了他一眼。“把她弄丢了？” 克伦又变得很粗暴。 “哎，如果你见到她，告诉她，我拿来饮料了。”他说着，懒散地垂着头走了。 “和维特。克伦做朋友了，罗恩？” 伯希在那里忙个不停，搓着双手，看起来一副很自负的样子。 “很好！这就是这件事的实质，你知道吗——国际魔法合作！” 令哈利反感的是，伯希马上坐到帕得玛的空位。贵宾桌现在是空的，丹伯多教授和史伯特教授在跳舞，露得。巴格蒙和麦康娜教授；玛西姆夫人和哈格力在舞池里跳华尔兹，而总见不到卡克罗夫的身影。当第二首曲子结束时，大家又都鼓起掌来。这时，哈利看到露得。巴格蒙在亲吻麦康娜教授的手，然后从人群中退了出来。弗来德和乔治在那里跟他打招呼，搭起讪来。 “你想他们可能在干什么呢，烦着高级内阁成员？”伯希不满地发出嘶嘶声，用怀疑的眼光看着弗来德和乔治，“没有一点敬意……” 露得。巴格蒙很快就甩掉弗来德和乔治，但是，又认出了哈利，就招手走了过来。 “我希望我的兄弟们没烦着你吧，巴格蒙先生？”伯希马上说。 “什么？哦，不，哪里的事呢！”巴格蒙说。“没有，他们只是在告诉我有关他们的假魔杖的事，不知道我可不可以给他们一些销售意见。我已经答应把他们的和我的那几根放在钟克的玩笑店里卖……” 伯希听到这里一点也不高兴，而哈利却准备回家就告诉威斯里太太。显然，弗来德和乔治的计划最近变得越来越有野心了，他们希望把魔杖推向大众市场。 巴格蒙开口想问哈利什么事，却被伯希打断了。“你觉得这次比赛怎么样，巴格蒙先生？我们还是挺满意的——除了对付火蟹有点困难。”——他瞟了哈利一眼——“有点不好运，当然啦，但目前好像还进行得挺顺利的，你认为呢？” “哦，是啊？”巴格蒙很高兴地说，“很好说，老巴地最近怎么样？ 多么遗憾啊，他不能来。“ “噢，我相信克劳斯先生不久就可以下床走动的。”伯希郑重其事地说，“不过，我很愿意补他的空缺。当然，不是全指参加舞会——” 他很得意地笑了——“噢，不，我已经处理了在他不在时出现的全部各种各样的事情——你听过阿尔特。巴希尔在偷运会飞的魔毯到这个国家时被抓吗？所以那时起，我们就一直在跟坦姆斯沃尼人谈判，努力说服他们签定《国际决斗禁令》，新的一年里，我和他们的魔法合作领导还有一个会议要开呢——” “我们去走走吧，”罗恩低声对哈利说，“摆脱伯希……” 哈利假装要拿饮料，就离开桌子，沿着舞池边沿偷偷走出去，跑进了八门大厅。前门都开着，他们走下前面阶梯的时候，一闪一烁的。他们发现周围都是灌木丛，蜿蜒地缠绕着装饰过于华丽的小径，还有石像。哈利能听到哗啦的水溅声，听起来像是喷泉，看到到处都有人坐在长凳上。他和罗恩经过玫瑰花丛，沿着蜿蜒的小径走去，但是，才走了不远，就听到了一个令人很不愉快的熟悉的声音。 “……我不觉得有什么可大惊小怪的。” “史纳皮，你不能假装这件事没有发生！”卡克罗夫的声音听起来很焦虑，而且很沙哑，好像很怕被别人偷听到。“几个月来，这已越来越清晰了，我已越来越担心了，我不能否认——” “那么逃吧，”史纳皮很唐突地说。“跑吧，我会给你们制造借口的。我，还会留在霍格瓦彻的。” 史纳皮和卡克罗夫来到桌边。史纳皮拿出他的魔杖，炸开了玫瑰花丛，他脸上的表情是最邪恶的那种。灌木丛发出了一阵阵尖叫声，黑影从他们身后升起。 “你们又是在干什么的？”他补充说，因为他看到了哈利和罗恩在前面的小径上。哈利看到卡克罗夫了，他好像看到他俩站在那里有点心神不安。他的手正紧张地摸着他的胡须，而且又开始用手指卷着。 “我们在走路呀。”罗恩很快地对史纳皮说，“不犯法吧？” “那就继续啊！”史纳皮咆哮着，从他们身边急速擦过，他的黑色长大衣在身后鼓起来。卡克罗夫紧跟着史纳皮走了。哈利和罗恩继续沿着小径走下去。 “卡克罗夫在担心什么呢？”罗恩喃喃自语道。 “什么时候开始，他和史纳皮已经好得用名字相称了？”哈利不紧不慢地说。 他们走到了一座巨大的石驯鹿雕像跟前，向上看，见到一座很高的喷泉喷出闪亮的喷射。石凳上有两个巨人的背影的轮廓依稀可见，他们在月光底下听泉水叮咚呢。这时，哈利听到哈格力的声音了。 “我见到你那一刻，我就知道了。”他说，声音沙哑得很怪。 哈利和罗恩都站住了。这不像他们应该走进来的地方，不知为什么……哈利环视了一下，沿着小径往回走，碰巧看到了附近的玫瑰丛里半遮半掩地站着的玛西姆夫人和哈格力。他拍了拍罗恩的肩膀，把头急速地转向他们，意思是他们可以不被发现地偷偷溜走(哈利觉得哈格力好像看起来很忙)。但是罗恩呢，看到玛西姆夫人时，眼睛大睁着，很大力地摇了摇头，拉起哈利躲在了石驯鹿后面。 哈利很不想这样做，他知道哈格力会很讨厌在这样一个场合被偷听的——如果有可能的话，他会用手指塞住耳洞，大声哼歌，但这并不是哈利的选择。相反，他把注意力放在了一只甲虫身上，看着它爬到石驯鹿背上，不过，这只甲虫并没有好玩到令哈格力闭上嘴巴。 “我只知道……知道你和我一样……那是你母亲呢，还是你父亲？” “我——我不知道你是什么意思，哈格力……” “是我母亲，”哈格力严肃地说。“她是在英国住的最后一批。当然了，我已不太记得她了……她离开了，在我三岁的时候。她并不是那种很慈祥、很有爱心的那种。哎……那不是她们的本性，对吗？你知道后来怎样了吗……就我所知，可能是死了……” 玛西姆夫人没说什么。而哈利，虽然不再看甲虫了，但又通过鹿角望了出去，听着……他以前从没听过哈格力讲自己的童年。 “我爸在她走后，伤心透了。我爸是个很瘦小的人。我六岁的时候就能把他举到衣橱上面了，如果我惹恼了他，我会逗他开心……” 哈格力用深沉的声音说。玛西姆夫人在听着，一动也不动地，显然是在注视着似银的喷泉。“爸爸养大了我……但却死了，当然，是在我上学后。那以后，我不得不独立生活。丹伯多对我是一个很大的帮助，真的。他对我很好，他是……” 哈格力拉出一张大的，星星点点的丝绸纸巾，很大力地呼出鼻涕。“嗯……不管怎样……那就是我的故事了。你呢？你是怎样的？” 但是玛西姆夫人已经站起身了。 “很冷，”她说——但无论天气如何，总不会比她的声音更冷了。 “我想我要进去了。” “呃？”哈格力一脸茫然。“不，不要走！我——我从没见过另一个！” “什么，确切一点？”玛西姆夫人说，音调冷如冰。 哈利本该告诉哈格力最好别回答，他站在影子下磨着牙，抱着一线希望，希望他不会——但那是徒劳的。 “另一个巨人，当然了！”哈格力说。 “哦，你如此放肆！”玛西姆夫人尖声叫道。她的声音像是在这宁静的夜晚里吹出的雾气。“我一生中还没受到这样的侮辱呢！” 她怒气冲冲着跑开了，当她走过时，生气地推开了旁边的花丛，这时，很多穿着五颜六色衣服的仙女们都站起身，哈格力仍然坐在长凳上，望着她离去的背影。夜太黑了，看不清他的表情。不一会儿，他也站起来，走开了。不是朝着城堡的方向，而是朝着他小屋的方向，消失在黑暗中。 “走吧。”哈利说，很悄声地对着罗恩，“我们走吧……” 但罗恩没有动。 “怎么了？”哈利说，望着他。 罗恩看了哈利一下，表情真的很严肃。 “你知道吗？”他低声说。“关于哈格力是半个巨人的事？” “不知道，”哈利说，耸了耸肩，“那又怎么样呢？” 他马上领会了罗恩使过来的眼色，他又一次显出了对巫师界的无知。由于哈利是杜斯利一家抚养大的，很多巫师认为是理所当然的事，对哈利来说却是新发现，但是这些惊奇在哈利上了学校以后，变得越来越少了。现在，他知道了大部分巫师在发现了朋友有一个女巨人妈妈的时候是不会说“那又怎么样？”的。 “我会在里面解释的，”罗恩悄声说。“来吧……” 芙璐和罗杰-戴维斯已经不见了，有可能到另一个更隐蔽的花丛里了。哈利和罗恩回到大厅里面。帕维提和帕得玛正和一群比尔贝顿的男孩子坐在远处的一张桌子旁，而荷米恩又和克伦跳舞了。哈利和罗恩在离舞池较远的一张桌子边坐下了。 “所以？”哈利催问着罗恩。“巨人有什么问题吗？” “嗯，他们……他们……”罗恩很艰难地说出，“不是很好看。”他断断续续地说完了。 “谁在乎呢？”哈利说。“哈格力并没有什么不妥呀！” “我知道没有，但是——哈格力，难怪他总是很沉默，”罗恩摇了摇头说。“我一直认为他小的时候中了邪恶的英格治得符咒或者别的什么。所以不想提起……” “他妈是个女巨人又怎么样呢？”哈利说。 “哎……认识他的人都没有一个会在乎的，因为他们知道他并不危险，”罗恩很慢地说。“但是……哈利，巨人是邪恶的。就像哈格力所说的，那是他们的本性，他们像山精一样……就是喜欢杀戮，每个人都知道的。幸运的是，在英国，现在已剩下不多了。” “为什么？” “哎，他们正面临着绝种呢，而且有些是被‘那个人’杀死的。国外可能也有巨人……他们大多躲藏在山里……” “我不知道谁会认为玛西姆是在开玩笑，”哈利说，望着玛西姆夫人一个人坐在裁判桌旁，阴沉着脸。“如果哈格力是半个巨人，那她就更是了。大块的骨头……比她骨头更大的就只有恐龙了。” 哈利和罗恩剩下的时候，就在角落里讨论巨人，两人都没想要跳舞。哈利尽力使自己不去看卓和塞德里克，因为他一看就想踢东西。 当非常姐妹在午夜跳完时，全场都爆发出了一次最后的最响亮的掌声，然后就各自走进了入门大厅。很多人都说，如果舞会能持续久一些就好了，但哈利却很高兴能去睡觉了，对他来说，这个晚上并不怎么好玩。 在入门大厅外面，哈利和罗恩看到荷米恩和克伦道晚安，随后克伦就走回到了丹姆斯安船上。荷米恩很冷漠地看了罗恩一眼，什么也不说，就从他旁边走过，走上了大理石楼梯。哈利和罗恩在她后面跟了上去，但走到一半，哈利就听到有人叫他。 “喂——哈利！” 是塞德里克。迪格瑞。哈利可以看到他在下面的入门大厅等着他。 “什么事？”哈利很冷淡地说。塞德里克爬上楼梯走到了他跟前。 塞德里克好像不喜欢在罗恩面前说似的，罗恩耸了耸肩，很恼火一样，继续爬上了楼梯。 “听着……”塞德里克在罗恩走后低了声音说。“我很感激你告诉我关于龙的事情。你知道那金蛋吧？你打开时，有没有听到哀号声呢？” “有啊。”哈利说。 “好……去洗个澡吧？” “什么？” “洗个澡，嗯……呃……带着蛋，呃……在水里想一下。会有助于你思考的……相信我。” 哈利瞪着他。 “我是说，”塞德里克说，“用那个高级洗澡间。那个在第五层楼的第四道门里的洗澡间……那道门左边有座迷人的波斯石像。暗语是新奇的松树，去……晚安——” 他又对着哈利咧嘴笑，急急忙忙地走下楼梯去找卓。 哈利一个人走回了格林芬顿塔。那可真是奇怪的建议。为什么洗一下澡就可以帮他想出哀号的蛋的含义呢。塞德里克是不是在跟他开玩笑呀？是不是他想把哈利变成傻子愚弄呢，所以相比之下，卓更喜欢塞德里克？ 胖大婶和他的朋友维在壁画上的画面里打着吃。哈利不得不大喊一声“仙女神灯！”才能把他们叫醒，由于他叫醒了他们，他们又被惹火了。他爬进了公共休息室，发现罗恩和荷米恩在激烈地争吵。 离着对方十英尺远，他们向对方吼叫着，面红耳赤的。 “嗯，如果你不喜欢，那么你就知道解决办法了，是不是？”荷米恩喊着，头发从发髻里散了下来，气得扭歪了脸。 “哦，是吗？”罗恩跟着喊起来。“什么方法？” “下次有舞会的话，在我被别人邀请之前邀请我，不要把我当成最后的选择！” 罗恩无声地含糊地喃喃着，像金鱼脱离了水，这时，荷米恩转身冲向女生宿舍，扑到了床上。罗恩回头望着哈利。 “哎，”他气急败坏地说，看起来十分惊愕，“哎——那只是——完全不是那样子的——” 哈利没说什么。他很高兴可以和罗恩和好如初无话不谈了——但不知怎的，他觉得荷米恩说得比罗恩更中肯。 |
Chapter 22 The Unexpected Task “Potter! Weasley! Will you pay attention?” Professor McGonagall's irritated voice cracked like a whip through the Transfiguration class on Thursday, and Harry and Ron both jumped and looked up. It was the end of the lesson; they had finished their work; the guinea fowl they had been changing into guinea pigs had been shut away in a large cage on Professor McGonagall's desk (Neville's still had feathers); they had copied down their homework from the blackboard ("Describe, with examples, the ways in which Transforming Spells must be adapted when performing Cross-Species Switches"}. The bell was due to ring at any moment, and Harry and Ron, who had been having a sword fight with a couple of Fred and George's fake wands at the back of the class, looked up, Ron holding a tin parrot and Harry, a rubber haddock. “Now that Potter and Weasley have been kind enough to act their age,” said Professor McGonagall, with an angry look at the pair of them as the head of Harry's haddock drooped and fell silently to the floor - Ron's parrot's beak had severed it moments before - “I have something to say to you all. “The Yule Ball is approaching - a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above - although you may invite a younger student if you wish -” Lavender Brown let out a shrill giggle. Parvati Patil nudged her hard in the ribs, her face working furiously as she too fought not to giggle. They both looked around at Harry, Professor McGonagall ignored them, which Harry thought was distinctly unfair, as she had just told off him and Ron. “Dress robes will be worn,” Professor McGonagall continued, “and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then -” Professor McGonagall stared deliberately around the class. “The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to - er - let our hair down,” she said, in a disapproving voice. Lavender giggled harder than ever, with her hand pressed hard against her mouth to stifle the sound. Harry could see what was funny this time: Professor McGonagall, with her hair in a tight bun, looked as though she had never let her hair down in any sense. “But that does NOT mean,” Professor McGonagall went on, “that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way.” The bell rang, and there was the usual scuffle of activity as everyone packed their bags and swung them onto their shoulders. Professor McGonagall called above the noise, “Potter - a word, if you please.” Assuming this had something to do with his headless rubber haddock, Harry proceeded gloomily to the teacher's desk. Professor McGonagall waited until the rest of the class had gone, and then said, “Potter, the champions and their partners -” “What partners?” said Harry. Profesor McGonagall looked suspiciously at him, as though she thought he was trying to be funny. “Your partners for the Yule Ball, Potter,” she said coldly. “Your dance partners.” Harry's insides seemed to curl up and shrivel. “Dance partners?” He felt himself going red. “I don't dance,” he said quickly. “Oh yes, you do,” said Professor McGonagall irritably. “That's what I'm telling you. Traditionally, the champions and their partners open the ball.” Harry had a sudden mental image of himself in a top hat and tails, accompanied by a girl in the sort of frilly dress Aunt Petunia always wore to Uncle Vernon's work parties. “I'm not dancing,” he said. “It is traditional,” said Professor McGonagall firmly. “You are a Hogwarts champion, and you will do what is expected of you as a representative of the school. So make sure you get yourself a partner, Potter.” “But - I don't -” “You heard me, Potter,” said Professor McGonagall in a very final sort of way. * * * * * * A week ago. Harry would have said finding a partner for a dance would be a cinch compared to taking on a Hungarian Horntail. But now that he had done the latter, and was facing the prospect of asking a girl to the ball, he thought he'd rather have another round with the dragon. Harry had never known so many people to put their names down to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas; he always did, of course, because the alternative was usually going back to Privet Drive, but he had always been very much in the minority before now. This year, however, everyone in the fourth year and above seemed to be staying, and they all seemed to Harry to be obsessed with the coming ball - or at least all the girls were, and it was amazing how many girls Hogwarts suddenly seemed to hold; he had never quite noticed that before. Girls giggling and whispering in the corridors, girls shrieking with laughter as boys passed them, girls excitedly comparing notes on what they were going to wear on Christmas night.… “Why do they have to move in packs?” Harry asked Ron as a dozen or so girls walked past them, sniggering and staring at Harry. “How're you supposed to get one on their own to ask them?” “Lasso one?” Ron suggested. “Got any idea who you're going to try?” Harry didn't answer. He knew perfectly well whom he'd like to ask, but working up the nerve was something else.…Cho was a year older than he was; she was very pretty; she was a very good Quidditch player, and she was also very popular. Ron seemed to know what was going on inside Harry's head. “Listen, you're not going to have any trouble. You're a champion. You've just beaten a Hungarian Horntail. I bet they'll be queuing up to go with you.” In tribute to their recently repaired friendship, Ron had kept the bitterness in his voice to a bare minimum. Moreover, to Harry's amazement, he turned out to be quite right. A curly-haired third-year Hufflepuff girl to whom Harry had never spoken in his life asked him to go to the ball with her the very next day. Harry was so taken aback he said no before he'd even stopped to consider the matter. The girl walked off looking rather hurt, and Harry had to endure Dean's, Seamus's, and Ron's taunts about her all through History of Magic. The following day, two more girls asked him, a second year and (to his horror) a fifth year who looked as though she might knock him out if he refused. “She was quite good-looking,” said Ron fairly, after he'd stopped laughing. “She was a foot taller than me,” said Harry, still unnerved. “Imagine what I'd look like trying to dance with her.” Hermione's words about Krum kept coming back to him. “They only like him because he's famous!” Harry doubted very much if any of the girls who had asked to be his partner so far would have wanted to go to the ball with him if he hadn't been a school champion. Then he wondered if this would bother him if Cho asked him. On the whole. Harry had to admit that even with the embarrassing prospect of opening the ball before him, life had definitely improved since he had got through the first task. He wasn't attracting nearly as much unpleasantness in the corridors anymore, which he suspected had a lot to do with Cedric - he had an idea Cedric might have told the Hufflepuffs to leave Harry alone, in gratitude for Harry's tip-off about the dragons. There seemed to be fewer Support Cedric Diggory! badges around too. Draco Malfoy, of course, was still quoting Rita Skeeter's article to him at every possible opportunity, but he was getting fewer and fewer laughs out of it - and just to heighten Harry's feeling of well-being, no story about Hagrid had appeared in the Daily Prophet. “She didn’ seem very int'rested in magical creatures, ter tell yeh the truth,” Hagrid said, when Harry, Ron, and Hermione asked him how his interview with Rita Skeeter had gone during the last Care of Magical Creatures lesson of the term. To their very great relief, Hagrid had given up on direct contact with the skrewts now, and they were merely sheltering behind his cabin today, sitting at a trestle table and preparing a fresh selection of food with which to tempt the skrewts. “She jus’ wanted me ter talk about you, Harry,” Hagrid continued in a low voice. “Well, I told her we'd been friends since I went ter fetch yeh from the Dursleys. ‘Never had to tell him off in four years?’ she said. ‘Never played you up in lessons, has he?’ I told her no, an she didn’ seem happy at all. Yeh'd think she wanted me to say yeh were horrible, Harry.” “'Course she did,” said Harry, throwing lumps of dragon liver into a large metal bowl and picking up his knife to cut some more. “She can't keep writing about what a tragic little hero I am, it'll get boring.” “She wants a new angle, Hagrid,” said Ron wisely as he shelled salamander eggs. “You were supposed to say Harry's a mad delinquent!” “But he's not!” said Hagrid, looking genuinely shocked. “She should've interviewed Snape,” said Harry grimly. “He'd give her the goods on me any day. ‘Potter has been crossing lines ever since he first arrived at this school.…'” “Said that, did he?” said Hagrid, while Ron and Hermione laughed. “Well, yeh might've bent a few rules. Harry, bu’ yeh're all righ’ really, aren’ you?” “Cheers, Hagrid,” said Harry, grinning. “You coming to this ball thing on Christmas Day, Hagrid?” said Ron. “Though’ I might look in on it, yeah,” said Hagrid gruffly. “Should be a good do, I reckon. You'll be openin the dancin', won yeh, Harry? Who're you takin'?” “No one, yet,” said Harry, feeling himself going red again. Hagrid didn't pursue the subject. The last week of term became increasingly boisterous as it progressed. Rumors about the Yule Ball were flying everywhere, though Harry didn't believe half of them - for instance, that Dumbledore had bought eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta. It seemed to be fact, however, that he had booked the Weird Sisters. Exactly who or what the Weird Sisters were Harry didn't know, never having had access to a wizard's wireless, but he deduced from the wild excitement of those who had grown up listening to the WWN (Wizarding Wireless Network) that they were a very famous musical group. Some of the teachers, like little Professor Flitwick, gave up trying to teach them much when their minds were so clearly elsewhere; he allowed them to play games in his lesson on Wednesday, and spent most of it talking to Harry about the perfect Summoning Charm Harry had used during the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. Other teachers were not so generous. Nothing would ever deflect Professor Binns, for example, from plowing on through his notes on goblin rebellions - as Binns hadn't let his own death stand in the way of continuing to teach, they supposed a small thing like Christmas wasn't going to put him off. It was amazing how he could make even bloody and vicious goblin riots sound as boring as Percy's cauldron-bottom report. Professors McGonagall and Moody kept them working until the very last second of their classes too, and Snape, of course, would no sooner let them play games in class than adopt Harry. Staring nastily around at them all, he informed them that he would be testing them on poison antidotes during the last lesson of the term. “Evil, he is,” Ron said bitterly that night in the Gryffindor common room. “Springing a test on us on the last day. Ruining the last bit of term with a whole load of studying.” “Mmm…you're not exactly straining yourself, though, are you?” said Hermione, looking at him over the top of her Potions notes. Ron was busy building a card castle out of his Exploding Snap pack - a much more interesting pastime than with Muggle cards, because of the chance that the whole thing would blow up at any second. “It's Christmas, Hermione,” said Harry lazily; he was rereading Flying with the Cannons for the tenth time in an armchair near the fire. Hermione looked severely over at him too. “I'd have thought you'd be doing something constructive, Harry, even if you don't want to learn your antidotes!” “Like what?” Harry said as he watched Joey Jenkins of the Cannons belt a Bludger toward a Ballycastle Bats Chaser. “That egg!” Hermione hissed. “Come on, Hermione, I've got till February the twenty-fourth,” Harry said. He had put the golden egg upstairs in his trunk and hadn't opened it since the celebration party after the first task. There were still two and a half months to go until he needed to know what all the screechy wailing meant, after all. “But it might take weeks to work it out!” said Hermione. “You're going to look a real idiot if everyone else knows what the next task is and you don't!” “Leave him alone, Hermione, he's earned a bit of a break,” said Ron, and he placed the last two cards on top of the castle and the whole lot blew up, singeing his eyebrows. “Nice look, Ron…go well with your dress robes, that will.” It was Fred and George. They sat down at the table with Harry, Ron, and Hermione as Ron felt how much damage had been done. “Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?” George asked. “No, he's off delivering a letter,” said Ron. “Why?” “Because George wants to invite him to the ball,” said Fred sarcastically. “Because we want to send a letter, you stupid great prat,” said George. “Who d'you two keep writing to, eh?” said Ron. “Nose out, Ron, or I'll burn that for you too,” said Fred, waving his wand threateningly. “So…you lot got dates for the ball yet?” “Nope,” said Ron. “Well, you'd better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone,” said Fred. “Who're you going with, then?” said Ron. “Angelina,” said Fred promptly, without a trace of embarrassment. “What?” said Ron, taken aback. “You've already asked her?” “Good point,” said Fred. He turned his head and called across the common room, “Oi! Angelina!” Angelina, who had been chatting with Alicia Spinnet near the fire, looked over at him. “What?” she called back. “Want to come to the ball with me?” Angelina gave Fred an appraising sort of look. “All right, then,” she said, and she turned back to Alicia and carried on chatting with a bit of a grin on her face. “There you go,” said Fred to Harry and Ron, “piece of cake.” He got to his feet, yawning, and said, “We'd better use a school owl then, George, come on.…” They left. Ron stopped feeling his eyebrows and looked across the smoldering wreck of his card castle at Harry. “We should get a move on, you know…ask someone. He's right. We don't want to end up with a pair of trolls.” Hermione let out a sputter of indignation. “A pair of…what, excuse me?” “Well - you know,” said Ron, shrugging. “I'd rather go alone than with - with Eloise Midgen, say.” “Her acne's loads better lately - and she's really nice!” “Her nose is off-center,” said Ron. “Oh I see,” Hermione said, bristling. “So basically, you're going to take the best-looking girl who'll have you, even if she's completely horrible?” “Er - yeah, that sounds about right,” said Ron. “I'm going to bed,” Hermione snapped, and she swept off toward the girls’ staircase without another word. * * * * * * The Hogwarts staff, demonstrating a continued desire to impress the visitors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, seemed determined to show the castle at its best this Christmas. When the decorations went up. Harry noticed that they were the most stunning he had yet seen inside the school. Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase; the usual twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were bedecked with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and the suits of armor had all been bewitched to sing carols whenever anyone passed them. It was quite something to hear “O Come, All Ye Faithful” sung by an empty helmet that only knew half the words. Several times, Filch the caretaker had to extract Peeves from inside the armor, where he had taken to hiding, filling in the gaps in the songs with lyrics of his own invention, all of which were very rude. And still. Harry hadn't asked Cho to the ball. He and Ron were getting very nervous now, though as Harry pointed out, Ron would look much less stupid than he would without a partner; Harry was supposed to be starting the dancing with the other champions. “I suppose there's always Moaning Myrtle,” he said gloomily, referring to the ghost who haunted the girls’ toilets on the second floor. “Harry - we've just got to grit our teeth and do it,” said Ron on Friday morning, in a tone that suggested they were planning the storming of an impregnable fortress. “When we get back to the common room tonight, we'll both have partners - agreed?” “Er…okay,” said Harry. But every time he glimpsed Cho that day - during break, and then lunchtime, and once on the way to History of Magic - she was surrounded by friends. Didn't she ever go anywhere alone? Could he perhaps ambush her as she was going into a bathroom? But no - she even seemed to go there with an escort of four or five girls. Yet if he didn't do it soon, she was bound to have been asked by somebody else. He found it hard to concentrate on Snape's Potions test, and consequently forgot to add the key ingredient - a bezoar - meaning that he received bottom marks. He didn't care, though; he was too busy screwing up his courage for what he was about to do. When the bell rang, he grabbed his bag, and hurried to the dungeon door. “I'll meet you at dinner,” he said to Ron and Hermione, and he dashed off upstairs. He'd just have to ask Cho for a private word, that was all.…He hurried off through the packed corridors looking for her, and (rather sooner than he had expected) he found her, emerging from a Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. “Er - Cho? Could I have a word with you?” Giggling should be made illegal. Harry thought furiously, as all the girls around Cho started doing it. She didn't, though. She said, “Okay,” and followed him out of earshot other classmates. Harry turned to look at her and his stomach gave a weird lurch as though he had missed a step going downstairs. “Er,” he said. He couldn't ask her. He couldn't. But he had to. Cho stood there looking puzzled, watching him. The words came out before Harry had quite got his tongue around them. “Wangoballwime?” “Sorry?” said Cho. “D'you - d'you want to go to the ball with me?” said Harry. Why did he have to go red now? Why? “Oh!” said Cho, and she went red too. “Oh Harry, I'm really sorry,” and she truly looked it. “I've already said I'll go with someone else.” “Oh,” said Harry. It was odd; a moment before his insides had been writhing like snakes, but suddenly he didn't seem to have any insides at all. “Oh okay,” he said, “no problem.” “I'm really sorry,” she said again. “That's okay,” said Harry. They stood there looking at each other, and then Cho said, “Well -” “Yeah,” said Harry. “Well, ‘bye,” said Cho, still very red. She walked away. Harry called after her, before he could stop himself. “Who're you going with?” “Oh - Cedric,” she said. “Cedric Diggory.” “Oh right,” said Harry. His insides had come back again. It felt as though they had been filled with lead in their absence. Completely forgetting about dinner, he walked slowly back up to Gryffindor Tower, Cho's voice echoing in his ears with every step he took. “Cedric - Cedric Diggory.” He had been starting to quite like Cedric - prepared to overlook the fact that he had once beaten him at Quidditch, and was handsome, and popular, and nearly everyone's favorite champion. Now he suddenly realized that Cedric was in fact a useless pretty boy who didn't have enough brains to fill an eggcup. “Fairy lights,” he said dully to the Fat Lady - the password had been changed the previous day. “Yes, indeed, dear!” she trilled, straightening her new tinsel hair band as she swung forward to admit him. * * * * * * Entering the common room, Harry looked around, and to his surprise he saw Ron sitting ashen-faced in a distant corner. Ginny was sitting with him, talking to him in what seemed to be a low, soothing voice. “What's up, Ron?” said Harry, joining them. Ron looked up at Harry, a sort of blind horror in his face. “Why did I do it?” he said wildly. “I don't know what made me do it! “What?” said Harry. “He - er - just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him,” said Ginny. She looked as though she was fighting back a smile, but she kept patting Ron's arm sympathetically. “You what?’ said Harry. “I don't know what made me do it!” Ron gasped again. “What was I playing at? There were people - all around - I've gone mad - everyone watching! I was just walking past her in the entrance hall - she was standing there talking to Diggory - and it sort of came over me - and I asked her!” Ron moaned and put his face in his hands. He kept talking, though the words were barely distinguishable. “She looked at me like I was a sea slug or something. Didn't even answer. And then - I dunno - I just sort of came to my senses and ran for it.” “She's part veela,” said Harry. “You were right - her grandmother was one. It wasn't your fault, I bet you just walked past when she was turning on the old charm for Diggory and got a blast of it - but she was wasting her time. He's going with Cho Chang.” Ron looked up. “I asked her to go with me just now,” Harry said dully, “and she told me.” Ginny had suddenly stopped smiling. “This is mad,” said Ron. “We're the only ones left who haven't got anyone - well, except Neville. Hey - guess who he asked? Hermione!” “What?” said Harry, completely distracted by this startling news. “Yeah, I know!” said Ron, some of the color coming back into his face as he started to laugh. “He told me after Potions! Said she's always been really nice, helping him out with work and stuff- but she told him she was already going with someone. Ha! As if! She just didn't want to go with Neville…I mean, who would?” “Don't!” said Ginny, annoyed. “Don't laugh -” Just then Hermione climbed in through the portrait hole. “Why weren't you two at dinner?” she said, coming over to join them. “Because - oh shut up laughing, you two - because they've both just been turned down by girls they asked to the ball!” said Ginny. That shut Harry and Ron up. “Thanks a bunch, Ginny,” said Ron sourly. “All the good-looking ones taken, Ron?” said Hermione loftily. “Eloise Midgen starting to look quite pretty now, is she? Well, I'm sure you'll find someone somewhere who'll have you.” But Ron was staring at Hermione as though suddenly seeing her in a whole new light. “Hermione, Neville's right - you are a girl.…” “Oh well spotted,” she said acidly. “Well - you can come with one of us!” “No, I can't,” snapped Hermione. “Oh come on,” he said impatiently, “we need partners, we're going to look really stupid if we haven't got any, everyone else has…” “I can't come with you,” said Hermione, now blushing, “because I'm already going with someone.” “No, you're not!” said Ron. “You just said that to get rid of Neville!” “Oh did I?” said Hermione, and her eyes flashed dangerously. “Just because it's taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one else has spotted I'm a girl!” Ron stared at her. Then he grinned again. “Okay, okay, we know you're a girl,” he said. “That do? Will you come now?” “I've already told you!” Hermione said very angrily. “I'm going with someone else!” And she stormed off toward the girls’ dormitories again. “She's lying,” said Ron flatly, watching her go. “She's not,” said Ginny quietly. “Who is it then?” said Ron sharply. “I'm not telling you, it's her business,” said Ginny. “Right,” said Ron, who looked extremely put out, “this is getting stupid. Ginny, you can go with Harry, and I'll just -” “I can't,” said Ginny, and she went scarlet too. “I'm going with - with Neville. He asked me when Hermione said no, and I thought…well…I'm not going to be able to go otherwise, I'm not in fourth year.” She looked extremely miserable. “I think I'll go and have dinner,” she said, and she got up and walked off to the portrait hole, her head bowed. Ron goggled at Harry. “What's got into them?” he demanded. But Harry had just seen Parvati and Lavender come in through the portrait hole. The time had come for drastic action. “Wait here,” he said to Ron, and he stood up, walked straight up to Parvati, and said, “Parvati? Will you go to the ball with me?” Parvati went into a fit of giggles. Harry waited for them to subside, his fingers crossed in the pocket of his robes. “Yes, all right then,” she said finally, blushing furiously. “Thanks,” said Harry, in relief. “Lavender - will you go with Ron?” “She's going with Seamus,” said Parvati, and the pair of them giggled harder than ever. Harry sighed. “Can't you think of anyone who'd go with Ron?” he said, lowering his voice so that Ron wouldn't hear. “What about Hermione Granger?” said Parvati. “She's going with someone else.” Parvati looked astonished. “Ooooh - who?” she said keenly. Harry shrugged. “No idea,” he said. “So what about Ron?” “Well…” said Parvati slowly, “I suppose my sister might…Padma, you know…in Ravenclaw. I'll ask her if you like.” “Yeah, that would be great,” said Harry. “Let me know, will you?” And he went back over to Ron, feeling that this ball was a lot more trouble than it was worth, and hoping very much that Padma Patil's nose was dead center. “彼特！威斯里！你们注意听，好不好？“ 麦康娜被激怒的沙哑的声音像鞭子一样席卷了星期四那天的变形课，哈利和罗恩都跳了起来，抬头干望着。 那时候快下课了，他们都已完成了自己的事情；珍珠鸡被他们变成了珍珠猪，后又把它变回到了麦康娜教授的讲台上的那大笼子里（尼维尔的珍珠猪还有鸡毛呢），他们从黑板上抄下了作业（对变形等咒语在完成变种中的运用方式进行描述和举例）。就快下课了，所以，哈利和罗恩在课室后面用弗来德和乔治的假魔杖打剑战。他们现在都停下来，抬起头望着黑板，罗恩手里抓着一只锡制的鹦鹉，而哈利，则拿着一条橡皮鳄鱼。 “现在，波特和威斯里都已经很乖了，懂事了，”麦康娜教授说，又生气地看了看他们。因为哈利和那条鳄鱼的头垂了下来，碰到了地面——罗恩的鹦鹉就用嘴去啄它——“我有事要跟大家宣布一下——” “圣诞节舞会就快到了——三巫师争霸赛的一个传统部分，也是和外国宾客交流的机会。现在，舞会只对四年级以上学生开放——但是你们也可以邀请一个低年级学生，如果你们喜欢的话——” 莱文德。布朗禁不住咯咯地笑出声，声音很刺耳。帕活提。帕提碰了碰她的肋骨，很生气地看着她，自己却努力地控制着自己不要笑出声来。她们俩都回头看了看哈利。麦康娜教授没注意到她们，因此，哈利觉得太不公平了，因为刚才他和罗恩差点受到训斥。 “一定要穿礼服，”麦康娜教授继续说，“舞会从圣诞节那天晚上八点开始，午夜结束，在大会厅进行。现在——” 麦康娜教授不慌不忙地扫视了一下全班。 “圣诞舞会当然是一次很好的机会，嗯——可以让我们尽情欢乐。”她以很不以为然的口气说道。 莱文德笑得更厉害了，一只手捂着嘴不让自己笑出声来、哈利现在知道为什么这么好笑了：麦康娜教授，脑后盘着一个很紧的发髻，看起来好像从没把头发放下来过。（英语里，“把头发放下来”指尽情欢乐的意思。） “但并不是说，”麦康娜教授继续说，“我们会对霍格瓦彻学生的行为准则有所放松。如果有一个格林芬顿学生在任何一方面使学校感到难堪的话，我将会非常不高兴。” 铃声响了，每个人都整理着书包，挎上肩膀，像往常一样争先恐后地跑出教室。 麦康娜教授在这片嘈杂声中大声叫着：“波特——你还有点事，请先别走。” 哈利猜想到可能是有关他那条没头的橡皮鳄鱼，所以低垂着头走到讲台边。 麦康娜教授等到全班人都走后，说，“波特，冠军们和他们的舞伴——” “什么舞伴？”哈利问。 麦康娜教授很疑惑地望着他，好像他是想搞笑才这么问的。 “你圣诞舞会上的舞伴呀，波特，”她冷冷地说，“你的舞伴。” 哈利的肠胃好像盘绕在一起后又缩拢了，“舞伴？” 他感觉到自己脸红了。“我不会跳舞。”他马上搪塞。 “哦，不，你会的，”麦康娜教授有点被激怒了。“这就是我要跟你说的事了。一直以来，舞会都是为冠军和他们的舞伴而开的。” 哈利在脑海里想象着自己头戴一顶高帽子，身穿燕尾服，由一个穿着一身带折过的晚礼服的女孩子陪伴着，那带折边的晚礼服就像帕尤妮亚姨妈经常穿去参加维能姨丈的公司晚会那样。 “我不会跳舞。”他说。 “那是传统的事情呀，”麦康娜教授坚定地说。“你是一个霍格瓦彻冠军，你应该作为学校的代表，做我们期望你去做的事情。所以请一定要找到一个舞伴，波特。” “但是——我不会——” “我该说的都说了，波特。”麦康娜教授以结束谈话的口气说。 要是一个星期以前，哈利会说我找一个舞伴比起跟匈牙利的号尾龙较量要容易得多。但现在因为他已跟号尾龙较量过了，而面临着如何去邀请一个女孩参加舞会，他宁愿和号尾龙进行多一轮的比赛。 哈利从没想过会有这么多人登记留下在霍格瓦彻过圣诞节。他经常都是留在学校过圣诞节的，因为，除此之外就是回到普里怀特街。 但是今年，每个四年级以上的学生好像都留下了，哈利觉得他们也被舞会困扰着——或者说，至少，全部女生都是这样的。霍格瓦彻一下子要容纳这么多女孩子，那会是多么壮观啊，他以前怎么从没注意到过呢。你看，有的女孩子在走廊里咯咯笑着，还窃窃私语呢；有的女孩子，有男生经过她们身边时，她们就尖声笑着；还有的在那里交流着圣诞节晚上该穿什么衣服…… “她们干嘛总是要成群结队地走呢？”哈利问罗恩，因为他看到了十几个女孩子经过他们身边，窃笑着盯着他看。“你以为该怎么邀请她们呢？” “套一个，怎么样？”罗恩建议道。“想好了邀请谁没有？” 哈利没有回答。他当然很清楚自己喜欢邀请谁，但是鼓起勇气又是另一回事了……卓比他大一岁，很漂亮，又是一个很优秀的快迪斯运动员，而且又很受欢迎，人缘很好。 罗恩似乎知道哈利在想什么。 “听着，你不会有任何困难的。你是一个冠军，你已经击败了一个匈牙利号尾龙。我打赌她们会排队等着你邀请的。” 为了他们刚刚挽回的友谊，罗恩尽量把这种难堪降到最小。还有，令哈利深感惊奇的是，后来发生的事证明罗恩说的话是对的。 第二天，就有一个海夫巴夫三年级的卷发女孩来请他一起参加舞会，这个人哈利可从没跟她说过话。哈利甚至还没考虑就拒绝了她，这令他自己都感到很吃惊。就因为这个女孩子，哈利不得不在魔法历史这堂课上忍受迪恩、西摩斯、罗恩的辱骂。第三天，又有两个女孩子来请他，一个是二年级的，一个是五年级的（这令他感到很荣幸），如果哈利拒绝的话，第二个看起来好像会把哈利一拳击昏一样。 “她长得还蛮好看的嘛。”罗恩笑完了后说。 “她比我高一英尺呢，”哈利说，一脸气馁的样子。“你想象一下我和她跳舞时会是什么样子就知道了。” 荷米恩关于克伦的那番话不断地在他脑海里回荡着。“她们喜欢他只是因为他出名嘛！”哈利很怀疑，如果他不是学校冠军的话，那么那些邀请他的女孩子还会不会邀请他呢。接着他又想，如果是卓邀请他，他还会不会这么烦呢。 总的来说，哈利不得不承认虽然开舞会的事令他很尴尬，但是自从他完成了第一个任务后，他的生活还是很明显地改善了。他不再碰到曾发生在走廊里的那些不愉快的事了。他怀疑这跟塞德里克有关——他认为是塞德里克叫海夫巴那群人不要招惹他的。为了报答他通知他龙来了那件事。好像最近也少了很多支持塞德里克的呼声了。杰高。马尔夫当然还是在每个可能的时候跟他说出理特。史姬特的文章，但是现在他已感觉到这并没有什么好笑的了——这只是提起了哈利的幸福感，《先知日报》上没有有关哈格力的消息。 “跟你老实说，她好像对魔幻生灵并不感兴趣，”哈格力低声说。 “好了，我告诉她从我去达德里家接你开始，我们就是朋友了。‘四年来没有训斥过他？’她说，请没有在课堂上惹你恼火？我告诉她说没有，她好像很不高兴。哈利，你可能会认为她想要我说你很可怕。” “她当然是这样想的，”哈利说着，边把几块龙的肝脏扔进一个大金属碗里，拿起他的刀子切了一些出来。“她老是写我是一个怎样的悲剧性小英雄，这样会很无聊的。” “她想要一只新角，哈格力，”罗恩边说边剥着火衡锡蛋壳。“你应该说哈利是一个发疯的犯罪狂！” “但他不是呀！”哈格力很震惊地说。 “她早该采访史纳皮了，”哈利很生气地说。“他什么时候都可能在她面前把我的好事给抖出来：波特一来到学校后，就老出错……” “他那样说了？”哈格力说，而罗恩和荷米恩在笑。“好了，别那么认真了，哈利，你现在伤都好了吧，是吧？” “谢谢你，哈格力。”哈利露出了笑脸。 “哈格力，圣诞舞会你参加吧？‘罗恩问。 “我想我会去看一下的。”哈格力粗哑地说，“肯定很好玩，我想，你会先跳，宣告舞会开始，是吧，哈利？你会带谁去呢？” “没有，还没找到。”哈利说着，感觉自己又脸红了。哈格力也没有再继续这个话题了。 学期的最后一个星期变得越来越喧闹了。关于圣诞舞会的谣传到处飞来飞去，但是哈利并没有全都听信——比如说，丹伯多已经从罗丝玛特夫人那里买了八百桶加了香料的蜜洒。那听起来有可能是真的，并且，他还已经预订了非常姐妹。事实上，那个非常姐妹是谁或者是什么东西，哈利一点也不知道，他从没拥有过一个巫师收音机，但是，从那些从小听巫师无线广播长大的人的狂喜劲儿推测出那是一个很有名的歌唱组合。 一些老师，像菲利特威克教授，看到同学们的心都不知道飞到哪里去的时候，就停止讲课了，他允许同学们在他星期三的课上玩游戏，而他自己就把大部分时间花在和波特讲那次波特的第一次任务——三巫师争霸赛上波特运用的巧妙的召唤符咒。其它老师就没有这么大方了。比如，宾西教授，从有关妖魔起义的那部分笔记一直讲啊讲——好像就算他垂危了，他也不会停止讲课一样。因此他们认为像圣诞节这样的小事是不可能让他停下来的。多么了不起啊！他把妖魔暴动讲得更血腥，更污秽了，听起来像伯希的大汽锅似的报告——又长又臭。麦康娜教授和莫迪教授则上课上到临近下课的那最后一秒，史纳皮当然也不例外了。他很不怀好意地看着全班，好像在告诫他们，本学期的最后一堂课他会用来测验他们的毒物解毒能力。 “简直是恶魔啊。”罗恩那天晚上在格林芬顿的公共休息室里苦苦地说，“最后一天进行测验，学期末放假的欢愉气氛都被那一大堆总复习一扫而光了。” “嗯……你不会这么折磨自己吧？”荷米恩说着，从正在复习的药剂笔记上抬头望着他。罗恩正在忙于用爆炸牌建他的纸牌堡垒——比玩马格牌更有趣，因为整个堡垒随时会爆炸。 “是圣诞节啊！”荷米恩哈利懒洋洋地说，他躺在火炉边的安乐椅上，读了第十遍《驾着大炮一起飞翔》。 荷米恩也严肃地看了他。“我以为你在做些什么有建设性的事情呢！” “像什么？”哈利说，看着《火炮》里面的“约。佐金斯用一根短棒绑着一个伯希城堡巴辞的追捕者”。 “蛋！”荷米恩嘘声说。 “哎，荷米恩，我二月二十四号那天会知道的。”哈利说。 他把金蛋放在楼上的衣箱里，自从第一次任务的那个庆功晚会后，他就再没打开过。毕竟，离他需要知道所有这些尖叫的哀号声是什么意思，还有两个半月呢。 “可能要好几个星期才能想到呢！”荷米恩说。“到时如果人人都知道了下一任务是什么，就你不知道，你就像傻子一样了！” “别管他，荷米恩，他需要休息。”罗恩说，把最后两张牌摆放在堡垒顶上，接着整一个就爆炸开了，烧到了他的眉毛。 “很好看啊，罗恩……那和你的礼服很衬呢，真的。” 是弗来德和乔治。他们和哈利、罗恩和荷米思一起在桌子旁坐下了，这时，罗恩感到他把事情搞严重了。 “罗恩，我们可以借你的皮威军吗？”乔治问。 “不行，它现在正去送信呢，”罗恩说。“什么事吗？” “因为乔治想邀请它去舞会，”弗来德挖苦道。 “因为我们要寄信啊，傻瓜。”乔治说。 “你们老是在跟谁写信啊？”罗恩说。 “把鼻子伸出来，罗恩，要不，我把你也烧了，”弗来德，威胁性地挥着魔杖。“所以……你们都找到舞伴了没有？” “没有。”罗恩说。 “好了，你们最好赶快行动吧，老友，要不，好的都被别人请走了。”弗来德说。 “你会跟谁一起去呀？”罗恩说。 “安琪儿。琳娜。”弗来德脱口而出，一点也不尴尬。 “什么？”罗恩说，吃了一惊。“你已经邀请她了？” “对了，”弗来德说，转过头来，向休息室喊了声，“喂！安琪儿。琳娜！” 安琪儿。琳娜正在火边和阿丽希尔聊天呢，这时转过头来，看了看他。 “什么事？”她回应着。 “想和我一起去参加舞会吗？” 安琪儿。琳娜用评价的眼光看了看弗来德。 “好吧。”她说，又转过身和阿丽希尔聊天了，脸上挂着一丝笑容。 “你们看到了吧？”弗来德对着哈利和罗恩说，“容易得很。” 他站了起来，打了一个呵欠，说，“我们最好用学校那只猫头鹰吧，乔治，快点……” 他们走了。罗恩不再想他的眉毛了，看了看冒着烟的城堡的残骸，又望了一眼哈利。 “我们是该行动了……邀请某些人。他说的对，我们不能以一对山精的形像出现吧。” 荷米恩很愤怒地吐了口口水。“一对什么……再说一次？” “好了——你知道的，”罗恩说，耸了耸肩，“我真的宁愿一个人去——如果要和艾罗丝。米更去的话。” “她的鼻子好像长歪了。”罗恩说。 “哦，我明白了，”荷米恩说，气得毛发竖起来。“‘所以简单地说，你就是想找一个最好看的女孩子，即使她很可怕？” “呃——是，差不多了。”罗恩说。 “我去睡觉了。”荷米恩打断了他，什么话也没再说就昂首走向了女生的楼梯间。 霍格瓦彻的工作人员，想要给从比斯贝顿和丹姆斯安来的参观者留下深刻印像，已经决定在这个圣诞节把城堡最好的一面显示出来。在装饰物开始抬上去的时候，哈利才发现这是学校里面他所见到过的最令人惊叹的东西。冰柱固定在楼梯的栏杆上，那十二棵圣诞树仍像往常一样摆在大会厅里，装饰的东西什么都有，发亮的空心浆果，真的大声叫的金色的猫头鹰，它们还会唱颂歌呢。听着由只懂得一半歌词的空盔甲唱出“噢，来吧，所有真诚的”，感觉真的很不一样。好几次，费驰都要把皮维斯从盔甲里面拉出来，（皮维斯喜欢躲在那里）用自己写的抒情诗给歌填词，但是那些词都是粗俗得要命。 哈利仍没去邀请卓参加舞会。他和罗恩现在都变得很紧张，虽然哈利说过，罗恩如果有舞伴的话，看起来更傻，但哈利应该是和其他冠军一起先挑的。 “我想呜咽的米尔特也去吧。”他很忧郁地说，指的是缠绕在二楼女生厕所里的那个鬼魂。 “哈利——我们得赶紧试一下了，”罗恩星期五早上说，那口气好像表明他们在计划着要冲破一座不可攻破的堡垒。“今晚我们回到公共休息室时，我们都会有舞伴的——好吗？” “呃……好的。”哈利说。 但那天他每一次看卓的时候——休息时，午餐时，在去上魔法历史课时——她身边总是围着一大群朋友。难道她没有单独去哪里的吗？或许，他可以藏在她去上洗手间的路上，不，那也不可能——她好像上厕所都有四五个女孩子护送着。但如果他不马上行动的话，她肯定会被其他人邀请的。 他发现他没办法集中精神做史纳皮的解毒法的测验，老是忘了加一种重要的成分——一种巴佐——意味着他会得低分。但是他不管，他正在想怎样鼓起勇气去做他要去做的事情。铃声一响，他抓起书包就冲向了牢门。 “吃饭的时间见。”他对罗恩和荷米恩说，就冲上了楼梯。 他只需要和卓单独谈谈，仅此而已……她穿过走廊上拥挤的人群，找寻着她的身影，而（出乎意料的）他很快就找到她了，她正在上防黑巫术课。 “呃——卓？我能和你说句话吗？” 咯咯笑应该被规定为犯法的，哈利很生气地想着，因为卓旁边的全部女生都笑了。但是，她没有笑她说：“好的。”然后跟着他走出去。 哈利转身看着她，他的胃七上八下地翻转了一番，好像刚踩空了一格楼梯。 “呃。”他说。 他不能就这样问她，他不能。但他必须这样做，单站在那里，很迷惑地望着他。 不知怎的，哈利就进出了一句，又快又模糊。 “想和我去舞会吗？” “什么？”卓说。 “你想不想——想不想和我一起去参加舞会？”哈利说。为什么他的脸要变红呢？为什么？ “哦！”卓说，脸也变红了。“哦，哈利，很抱歉，真的很抱歉，”她也知道了。“我已经答应别人了。” “哦。”哈利说。 很奇怪呀，一分钟以前，他的五脏六腑还像蛇一样在扭动着，现在突然感到好像没有五脏六腑一样。 “哦，行。”他说，“没问题，没事。” “我真的很抱歉。”她又说了一遍。 “没事的。”哈利说。 他们站在那里看着对方，然后卓说，“好了——” “嗯。”哈利说。 “那，再见了。”卓说，脸还很红。然后走开了。 哈利在后面喊着她，因为他控制不住自己。 “你和谁去？” “哦——塞德里克，”她说，“塞德里克。迪格瑞。” “哦，好的。”哈利说。 他的五脏六腑又回来了，好像这次是装满了铅似的。 他完完全全地忘了吃饭了，慢慢地走回了格林芬顿塔，每走一步，耳边就回荡起卓的声音，“塞德里克——塞德里克。迪格瑞。”现在他突然意识到，塞德里克实际上只是一个没用的奶油小生，根本就是没脑筋。 “仙女神灯。“他忧郁地对着胖大婶说——暗语已经在前几天改了。 “唉，来了，亲爱的！”她颤声说，弄了弄她那新的闪亮的发髻，摇摆着出来迎他。 进入到了公共休息室，哈利环顾了四周，使他感到惊奇的是，罗恩沉着脸坐在很远的一个角落，金妮坐在他身边，用很小的，安慰似的声音跟他说话。 “发生了什么事，罗恩？”哈利说，也围了上去。 罗恩抬头看了看哈利，脸出显出一种盲目的恐惧。 “我为什么要那样做呢？”他死死地追问。“我不知道撞了什么邪才那样做！” “什么呀？”哈利问。 “他——呃，刚刚邀请了芙璐·迪来高去参加舞会。”金妮说。她好像要强挤出笑脸，但是，又总是同情地拍了拍罗恩的手臂。 “你什么？”哈利说。 “我不知道为什么会那样做！”罗恩喘息着说。“我到底在搞什么呀？那时候很多人——围在那里——我快疯了一每个人都在看着我！我在大会厅里走过她身边——她在那里和迪格瑞说话——我突然想到了——就走过去邀请她了！” 罗恩咕哝着，双手捂着脸。他不断在那里讲，虽然有时模糊不清的。“她看我就像在看一只海里的蛞蝓或其他东西，甚至不回答我。 那时——我不知道——只是突然想到，就问了。“ “她才是十足的蛞蝓。”哈利说，“你说得对——她奶奶就是一只蛞蝓。那不是你的错，你只是在她向迪格瑞施展魅力的时候，经过她身边，然后受了影响——但是，她是在浪费自己的时间，他已经找了卓了。” 罗恩抬起头。 “刚才我邀请了她和我一起去，”哈利很丧气地说，“是她告诉我的。” “这可真荒唐，”罗恩说，“我们就是剩下那些没舞伴的人了——嗯，除了尼维尔。喂——猜一请他邀请谁了？哈利！” “什么？”哈利说，完全被这个爆炸性的新闻吸引住了。 “哎，我知道！”罗恩说，他开始笑了，脸上又有了光彩。“他药剂课后告诉我的！他说她真的很可爱，一直以来都在他需要帮助的时候帮助他——但她却告诉他，她已经答应了别人。哈！才怪呢！她只是不想和尼维尔一起去呀……我说，谁想呢？” “嘘！”金妮说，很恼怒，“别笑——” 就在这时，荷米恩从壁画里的洞爬了进来。 “你们两个怎么不吃饭呢？”她说，走了过来。 “因为——唉，别说了，他们两个——因为他们邀请了女孩子，但都被拒绝了！”金妮说。 那可真让哈利和罗恩闭嘴了。 “太感谢你了，金妮。”罗恩很生气地说。 “所有漂亮女孩都被邀请了吗，罗恩？”荷米恩很高傲地说。“艾罗丝。米更好像越来越好看了，你们觉得吗？好了，我相信你们终会找到舞伴的。” 罗恩，目不转睛地盯着荷米恩看，好像突然在新的光线下看一样。“罗恩，尼维尔说得对——你是一个很……的女孩子。” “噢。很受人注意，是吧？”她尖刻地说。 “好吧——你们可以跟我们中任何一个人去！” “不，我不能。”荷米恩打断说。 “唉，好啦，”他不耐烦地说，“我们需要舞伴呀！如果我们没有的话，会很难堪的，其他人都有……” “我不能和你们去，”荷米恩说，脸红了，“因为我已经答应了和别人去了。” “不，你撒谎！”罗恩说，“你刚才那样说是为了摆脱尼维尔！” “噢，是吗？”荷米恩眼睛很危险地闪了一闪说。“那是因为你需要三年才能注意到，但并不代表没人认出我是个女孩呀！” 罗恩瞪着她，然后又咧嘴笑了。 “好了，行了，我们知道你是个女孩，”他说，“行了吧？现在可以和我们一起去了吧？” “我已经告诉你们了！”荷米恩很生气地说。“我要和别人去！” 接着，她又猛地冲向女生宿舍去了。 “她在撒谎。”罗恩望着她走出去肯定地说。 “她没有。”金妮安然地说。 “那么，那个人是谁呢？”罗恩尖锐地说。 “我不会告诉你的，这是她的事。”金妮说。 “好，”罗恩说，被气得无可奈何，“这真是越来越无聊了。金妮，你可以和哈利一起去，而我只能——” “不行，”金妮说，脸也红了。“我要和——和尼维尔去的。他在被荷米恩拒绝后邀请了我，我想……哎……反正我又不能参加，我又不是四年级的。”她看上去很痛苦的样子。“我想去吃饭了。”她说着，站起来走到了壁画洞口，垂头丧气的。 罗恩瞪大眼睛看着哈利。 “她们怎么了？”他问道。 而哈利刚才只是看到帕维提和莱文德从壁画口进来。看来是该采取大行动了。 “等着。”他对罗恩说。说完就起来，直直走到帕维提跟前，“帕维提，可以和我一起去参加舞会吗？” 帕维提咯咯笑了起来。哈利在等着她笑完，手指交叉在长袍的口袋里，默默祈祷着。 “嗯，好吧。”她终于答应了，满脸通红的。 “谢谢，”哈利说，松了一口气，“莱文德——你能和罗恩一起去吗？” “她已经和西摩斯了。”帕维提说，她们两个笑得更厉害了。 哈利叹了一口气。 “你们中没有想要和罗恩一起去的吗？”他说，压低着声音以免让罗恩听到。 “那荷米恩。格林佐呢？”帕维提说。 “她会和别人去。” 帕维提吃了一惊。 “呃——谁呀？”她很急切地问。 哈利耸了耸肩。“不知道。”他说。“那罗恩呢？” “哎……”帕维提慢悠悠地说，“我想我姐可以……帕得玛，你认识的……在卫文卡罗。我去问一下她，看她愿不愿意去。” “哎，那最好不过了。”哈利说。“有消息通知我，好吗？” 他又回到罗恩身边了，心里想这个舞伴要比舞会本身麻烦多了，祈祷着帕维提。帕提的鼻子不要真的长歪了。 |
Chapter 21 The House-elf Liberation Front Harry, Ron, and Hermione went up to the Owlery that evening to find Pigwidgeon, so that Harry could send Sirius a letter telling him that he had managed to get past his dragon unscathed. On the way, Harry filled Ron in on everything Sirius had told him about Karkaroff. Though shocked at first to hear that Karkaroff had been a Death Eater, by the time they entered the Owlery Ron was saying that they ought to have suspected it all along. “Fits, doesn't it?” he said. “Remember what Malfoy said on the train, about his dad being friends with Karkaroff? Now we know where they knew each other. They were probably running around in masks together at the World Cup.…I'll tell you one thing, though, Harry, if it was Karkaroff who put your name in the goblet, he's going to be feeling really stupid now, isn't he? Didn't work, did it? You only got a scratch! Come here - I'll do it -” Pigwidgeon was so overexcited at the idea of a delivery he was flying around and around Harry's head, hooting incessantly. Ron snatched Pigwidgeon out of the air and held him still while Harry attached the letter to his leg. There's no way any of the other tasks are going to be that dangerous, how could they be?” Ron went on as he carried Pigwidgeon to the window. “You know what? I reckon you could win this tournament, Harry, I'm serious.” Harry knew that Ron was only saying this to make up for his behavior of the last few weeks, but he appreciated it all the same. Hermione, however, leaned against the Owlery wall, folded her arms, and frowned at Ron. “Harry's got a long way to go before he finishes this tournament,” she said seriously. “If that was the first task, I hate to think what's coming next.” “Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?” said Ron. “You and Professor Trelawney should get together sometime.” He threw Pigwidgeon out of the window. Pigwidgeon plummeted twelve feet before managing to pull himself back up again; the letter attached to his leg was much longer and heavier than usual - Harry hadn't been able to resist giving Sirius a blow-by-blow account of exactly how he had swerved, circled, and dodged the Horntail. They watched Pigwidgeon disappear into the darkness, and then Ron said, “Well, we'd better get downstairs for your surprise party, Harry - Fred and George should have nicked enough food from the kitchens by now.” Sure enough, when they entered the Gryffindor common room it exploded with cheers and yells again. There were mountains of cakes and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface; Lee Jordan had let off some Filibuster's Fireworks, so that the air was thick with stars and sparks; and Dean Thomas, who was very good at drawing, had put up some impressive new banners, most of which depicted Harry zooming around the Horntail's head on his Firebolt, though a couple showed Cedric with his head on fire. Harry helped himself to food; he had almost forgotten what it was like to feel properly hungry, and sat down with Ron and Hermione. He couldn't believe how happy he felt; he had Ron back on his side, he'd gotten through the first task, and he wouldn't have to face the second one for three months. “Blimey, this is heavy,” said Lee Jordan, picking up the golden egg, which Harry had left on a table, and weighing it in his hands. “Open it, Harry, go on! Let's just see what's inside it!” “He's supposed to work out the clue on his own,” Hermione said swiftly. “It's in the tournament rules.…” “I was supposed to work out how to get past the dragon on my own too,” Harry muttered, so only Hermione could hear him, and she grinned rather guiltily. “Yeah, go on, Harry, open it!” several people echoed. Lee passed Harry the egg, and Harry dug his fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it and prised it open. It was hollow and completely empty - but the moment Harry opened it, the most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing, filled the room. The nearest thing to it Harry had ever heard was the ghost orchestra at Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party, who had all been playing the musical saw. “Shut it!” Fred bellowed, his hands over his ears. “What was that?” said Seamus Finnigan, staring at the egg as Harry slammed it shut again. “Sounded like a banshee…Maybe you've got to get past one of those next, Harry!” “It was someone being tortured!” said Neville, who had gone very white and spilled sausage rolls all over the floor. “You're going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!” “Don't be a prat, Neville, that's illegal,” said George. “They wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing…maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower. Harry.” “Want a jam tart, Hermione?” said Fred. Hermione looked doubtfully at the plate he was offering her. Fred grinned. “It's all right,” he said. “I haven't done anything to them. It's the custard creams you've got to watch -” Neville, who had just bitten into a custard cream, choked and spat it out. Fred laughed. “Just my little joke, Neville.…” Hermione took a jam tart. Then she said, “Did you get all this from the kitchens, Fred?” “Yep,” said Fred, grinning at her. He put on a high-pitched squeak and imitated a house-elf. “'anything we can get you, sir, anything at all!’ They're dead helpful…get me a roast ox if I said I was peckish.” “How do you get in there?” Hermione said in an innocently casual sort of voice. “Easy,” said Fred, “concealed door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles and -” He stopped and looked suspiciously at her. “Why?” “Nothing,” said Hermione quickly. “Going to try and lead the house-elves out on strike now, are you?” said George. “Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion?” Several people chortled. Hermione didn't answer. “Don't you go upsetting them and telling them they've got to take clothes and salaries!” said Fred warningly. “You'll put them off their cooking!” Just then, Neville caused a slight diversion by turning into a large canary. “Oh - sorry, Neville!” Fred shouted over all the laughter. “I forgot - it was the custard creams we hexed -” Within a minute, however, Neville had molted, and once his feathers had fallen off, he reappeared looking entirely normal. He even joined in laughing. “Canary Creams!” Fred shouted to the excitable crowd. “George and I invented them - seven Sickles each, a bargain!” It was nearly one in the morning when Harry finally went up to the dormitory with Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean. Before he pulled the curtains of his four-poster shut. Harry set his tiny model of the Hungarian Horntail on the table next to his bed, where it yawned, curled up, and closed its eyes. Really, Harry thought, as he pulled the hangings on his four-poster closed, Hagrid had a point…they were all right, really, dragons.… * * * * * * The start of December brought wind and sleet to Hogwarts. Drafty though the castle always was in winter. Harry was glad of its fires and thick walls every time he passed the Durmstrang ship on the lake, which was pitching in the high winds, its black sails billowing against the dark skies. He thought the Beauxbatons caravan was likely to be pretty chilly too. Hagrid, he noticed, was keeping Madame Maxime's horses well provided with their preferred drink of single-malt whiskey; the fumes wafting from the trough in the comer of their paddock was enough to make the entire Care of Magical Creatures class light-headed. This was unhelpful, as they were still tending the horrible skrewts and needed their wits about them. “I'm not sure whether they hibernate or not,” Hagrid told the shivering class in the windy pumpkin patch next lesson. “Thought we'd jus’ try an see if they fancied a kip…we'll jus’ settle ‘em down in these boxes.…” There were now only ten skrewts left; apparently their desire to kill one another had not been exercised out of them. Each of them was now approaching six feet in length. Their thick gray armor; their powerful, scuttling legs; their fire-blasting ends; their stings and their suckers, combined to make the skrewts the most repulsive things Harry had ever seen. The class looked dispiritedly at the enormous boxes Hagrid had brought out, all lined with pillows and fluffy blankets. “We'll jus’ lead ‘em in here,” Hagrid said, “an’ put the lids on, and we'll see what happens.” But the skrewts, it transpired, did not hibernate, and did not appreciate being forced into pillow-lined boxes and nailed in. Hagrid was soon yelling, “Don panic, now, don’ panic!” while the skrewts rampaged around the pumpkin patch, now strewn with the smoldering wreckage of the boxes. Most of the class - Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle in the lead - had fled into Hagrid's cabin through the back door and barricaded themselves in; Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, were among those who remained outside trying to help Hagrid. Together they managed to restrain and tie up nine of the skrewts, though at the cost of numerous burns and cuts; finally, only one skrewt was left. “Don’ frighten him, now!” Hagrid shouted as Ron and Harry used their wands to shoot jets of fiery sparks at the skrewt, which was advancing menacingly on them, its sting arched, quivering, over its back. “Jus’ try an slip the rope ‘round his sting, so he won hurt any o’ the others!” “Yeah, we wouldn't want that!” Ron shouted angrily as he and Harry backed into the wall of Hagrid's cabin, still holding the skrewt off with their sparks. “Well, well, well…this does look like fun.” Rita Skeeter was leaning on Hagrid's garden fence, looking in at the mayhem. She was wearing a thick magenta cloak with a furry purple collar today, and her crocodile-skin handbag was over her arm. Hagrid launched himself forward on top of the skrewt that was cornering Harry and Ron and flattened it; a blast of fire shot out of its end, withering the pumpkin plants nearby. “Who're you?” Hagrid asked Rita Skeeter as he slipped a loop of rope around the skrewt's sting and tightened it. “Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter,” Rita replied, beaming at him. Her gold teeth glinted. “Thought Dumbledore said you weren’ allowed inside the school anymore,” said Hagrid, frowning slightly as he got off the slightly squashed skrewt and started tugging it over to its fellows. Rita acted as though she hadn't heard what Hagrid had said. “What are these fascinating creatures called?” she asked, beaming still more widely. “Blast-Ended Skrewts,” grunted Hagrid. “Really?” said Rita, apparently full of lively interest. “I've never heard of them before…where do they come from?” Harry noticed a dull red flush rising up out of Hagrid's wild black beard, and his heart sank. Where had Hagrid got the skrewts from? Hermione, who seemed to be thinking along these lines, said quickly, “They're very interesting, aren't they? Aren't they. Harry?” “What? Oh yeah…ouch…interesting,” said Harry as she stepped on his foot. “Ah, you're here. Harry!” said Rita Skeeter as she looked around. “So you like Care of Magical Creatures, do you? One of your favorite lessons?” “Yes,” said Harry stoutly. Hagrid beamed at him. “Lovely,” said Rita. “Really lovely. Been teaching long?” she added to Hagrid. Harry noticed her eyes travel over Dean (who had a nasty cut across one cheek). Lavender (whose robes were badly singed), Seamus (who was nursing several burnt fingers), and then to the cabin windows, where most of the class stood, their noses pressed against the glass waiting to see if the coast was clear. “This is o'ny me second year,” said Hagrid. “Lovely…I don't suppose you'd like to give an interview, would you? Share some of your experience of magical creatures? The Prophet does a zoological column every Wednesday, as I'm sure you know. We could feature these - er - Bang-Ended Scoots.” “Blast-Ended Skrewts,” Hagrid said eagerly. “Er - yeah, why not?” Harry had a very bad feeling about this, but there was no way of communicating it to Hagrid without Rita Skeeter seeing, so he had to stand and watch in silence as Hagrid and Rita Skeeter made arrangements to meet in the Three Broomsticks for a good long interview later that week. Then the bell rang up at the castle, signaling the end of the lesson. “Well, good-bye, Harry!” Rita Skeeter called merrily to him as he set off with Ron and Hermione. “Until Friday night, then, Hagrid!” “She'll twist everything he says,” Harry said under his breath. “Just as long as he didn't import those skrewts illegally or anything,” said Hermione desperately. They looked at one another - it was exactly the sort of thing Hagrid might do. “Hagrid's been in loads of trouble before, and Dumbledores never sacked him,” said Ron consolingly. “Worst that can happen is Hagrid'll have to get rid of the skrewts. Sorry…did I say worst? I meant best.” Harry and Hermione laughed, and, feeling slightly more cheerful, went off to lunch. Harry thoroughly enjoyed double Divination that afternoon; they were still doing star charts and predictions, but now that he and Ron were friends once more, the whole thing seemed very funny again. Professor Trelawney, who had been so pleased with the pair of them when they had been predicting their own horrific deaths, quickly became irritated as they sniggered through her explanation of the various ways in which Pluto could disrupt everyday life. “I would think,” she said, in a mystical whisper that did not conceal her obvious annoyance, “that some of us” - she stared very meaningfully at Harry- “might be a little less frivolous had they seen what I have seen during my crystal gazing last night. As I sat here, absorbed in my needlework, the urge to consult the orb overpowered me. I arose, I settled myself before it, and I gazed into its crystalline depths…and what do you think I saw gazing back at me?” “An ugly old bat in outsize specs?” Ron muttered under his breath. Harry fought hard to keep his face straight. “Death, my dears.” Parvati and Lavender both put their hands over their mouths, looking horrified. “Yes,” said Professor Trelawney, nodding impressively, “it comes, ever closer, it circles overhead like a vulture, ever lower…ever lower over the castle.…” She stared pointedly at Harry, who yawned very widely and obviously. “It'd be a bit more impressive if she hadn't done it about eighty times before,” Harry said as they finally regained the fresh air of the staircase beneath Professor Trelawney's room. “But if I'd dropped dead every time she's told me I'm going to, I'd be a medical miracle.” “You'd be a sort of extra-concentrated ghost,” said Ron, chortling, as they passed the Bloody Baron going in the opposite direction, his wide eyes staring sinisterly. “At least we didn't get homework. I hope Hermione got loads off Professor Vector, I love not working when she is.…” But Hermione wasn't at dinner, nor was she in the library when they went to look for her afterward. The only person in there was Viktor Krum. Ron hovered behind the bookshelves for a while, watching Krum, debating in whispers with Harry whether he should ask for an autograph - but then Ron realized that six or seven girls were lurking in the next row of books, debating exactly the same thing, and he lost his enthusiasm for the idea. “Wonder where she's got to?” Ron said as he and Harry went back to Gryffindor Tower. “Dunno…balderdash.” But the Fat Lady had barely begun to swing forward when the sound of racing feet behind them announced Hermione's arrival. “Harry!” she panted, skidding to a halt beside him (the Fat Lady stared down at her, eyebrows raised). “Harry, you've got to come - you've got to come, the most amazing thing's happened - please -” She seized Harry's arm and started to try to drag him back along the corridor. “What's the matter?” Harry said. “I'll show you when we get there - oh come on, quick -” Harry looked around at Ron; he looked back at Harry, intrigued. “Okay,” Harry said, starting off back down the corridor with Hermione, Ron hurrying to keep up. “Oh don't mind me!” the Fat Lady called irritably after them. “Don't apologize for bothering me! I'll just hang here, wide open, until you get back, shall I?” “Yeah, thanks!” Ron shouted over his shoulder. “Hermione, where are we going?” Harry asked, after she had led them down through six floors, and started down the marble staircase into the entrance hall. “You'll see, you'll see in a minute!” said Hermione excitedly. She turned left at the bottom of the staircase and hurried toward the door through which Cedric Diggory had gone the night after the Goblet of Fire had regurgitated his and Harry's names. Harry had never been through here before. He and Ron followed Hermione down a flight of stone steps, but instead of ending up in a gloomy underground passage like the one that led to Snape's dungeon, they found themselves in a broad stone corridor, brightly lit with torches, and decorated with cheerful paintings that were mainly of food. “Oh hang on…” said Harry slowly, halfway down the corridor. “Wait a minute, Hermione.…” “What?” She turned around to look at him, anticipation all over her face. “I know what this is about,” said Harry. He nudged Ron and pointed to the painting just behind Hermione. It showed a gigantic silver fruit bowl. “Hermione!” said Ron, cottoning on. “You're trying to rope us into that spew stuff again!” “No, no, I'm not!” she said hastily. “And it's not spew, Ron -” “Changed the name, have you?” said Ron, frowning at her. “What are we now, then, the House-Elf Liberation Front? I'm not barging into that kitchen and trying to make them stop work, I'm not doing it -” “I'm not asking you to!” Hermione said impatiently. “I came down here just now, to talk to them all, and I found - oh come on, Harry, I want to show you!” She seized his arm again, pulled him in front of the picture of the giant fruit bowl, stretched out her forefinger, and tickled the huge green pear. It began to squirm, chuckling, and suddenly turned into a large green door handle. Hermione seized it, pulled the door open, and pushed Harry hard in the back, forcing him inside. He had one brief glimpse of an enormous, high-ceilinged room, large as the Great Hall above it, with mounds of glittering brass pots and pans heaped around the stone walls, and a great brick fireplace at the other end, when something small hurtled toward him from the middle of the room, squealing, “Harry Potter, sir! Harry Potter!” Next second all the wind had been knocked out of him as the squealing elf hit him hard in the midriff, hugging him so tightly he thought his ribs would break. “D-Dobby?” Harry gasped. “It is Dobby, sir, it is!” squealed the voice from somewhere around his navel. “Dobby has been hoping and hoping to see Harry Potter, sir, and Harry Potter has come to see him, sir!” Dobby let go and stepped back a few paces, beaming up at Harry, his enormous, green, tennis-ball-shaped eyes brimming with tears of happiness. He looked almost exactly as Harry remembered him; the pencil-shaped nose, the batlike ears, the long fingers and feet - all except the clothes, which were very different. When Dobby had worked for the Malfoys, he had always worn the same filthy old pillowcase. Now, however, he was wearing the strangest assortment of garments Harry had ever seen; he had done an even worse job of dressing himself than the wizards at the World Cup. He was wearing a tea cozy for a hat, on which he had pinned a number of bright badges; a tie patterned with horseshoes over a bare chest, a pair of what looked like children's soccer shorts, and odd socks. One of these, Harry saw, was the black one Harry had removed from his own foot and tricked Mr. Malfoy into giving Dobby, thereby setting Dobby free. The other was covered in pink and orange stripes. “Dobby, what're you doing here?” Harry said in amazement. “Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, sir!” Dobby squealed excitedly. “Professor Dumbledore gave Dobby and Winky jobs, sir! “Winky?” said Harry. “She's here too?” “Yes, sir, yes!” said Dobby, and he seized Harry's hand and pulled him off into the kitchen between the four long wooden tables that stood there. Each of these tables, Harry noticed as he passed them, was positioned exactly beneath the four House tables above, in the Great Hall. At the moment, they were clear of food, dinner having finished, but he supposed that an hour ago they had been laden with dishes that were then sent up through the ceiling to their counterparts above. At least a hundred little elves were standing around the kitchen, beaming, bowing, and curtsying as Dobby led Harry past them. They were all wearing the same uniform: a tea towel stamped with the Hogwarts crest, and tied, as Winky's had been, like a toga. Dobby stopped in front of the brick fireplace and pointed. “Winky, sir!” he said. Winky was sitting on a stool by the fire. Unlike Dobby, she had obviously not foraged for clothes. She was wearing a neat little skirt and blouse with a matching blue hat, which had holes in it for her large ears. However, while every one of Dobby's strange collection of garments was so clean and well cared for that it looked brand-new, Winky was plainly not taking care other clothes at all. There were soup stains all down her blouse and a burn in her skirt. “Hello, Winky,” said Harry. Winky's lip quivered. Then she burst into tears, which spilled out of her great brown eyes and splashed down her front, just as they had done at the Quidditch World Cup. “Oh dear,” said Hermione. She and Ron had followed Harry and Dobby to the end of the kitchen. “Winky, don't cry, please don't…” But Winky cried harder than ever. Dobby, on the other hand, beamed up at Harry. “Would Harry Potter like a cup of tea?” he squeaked loudly, over Winky's sobs. “Er - yeah, okay,” said Harry. Instantly, about six house-elves came trotting up behind him, bearing a large silver tray laden with a teapot, cups for Harry, Ron, and Hermione, a milk jug, and a large plate of biscuits. “Good service!” Ron said, in an impressed voice. Hermione frowned at him, but the elves all looked delighted; they bowed very low and retreated. “How long have you been here, Dobby?” Harry asked as Dobby handed around the tea. “Only a week. Harry Potter, sir!” said Dobby happily. “Dobby came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir. You see, sir, it is very difficult for a house-elf who has been dismissed to get a new position, sir, very difficult indeed -” At this, Winky howled even harder, her squashed-tomato of a nose dribbling all down her front, though she made no effort to stem the flow. “Dobby has traveled the country for two whole years, sir, trying to find work!” Dobby squeaked. “But Dobby hasn't found work, sir, because Dobby wants paying now!” The house-elves all around the kitchen, who had been listening and watching with interest, all looked away at these words, as though Dobby had said something rude and embarrassing. Hermione, however, said, “Good for you, Dobby!” “Thank you, miss!” said Dobby, grinning toothily at her. “But most wizards doesn't want a house-elf who wants paying, miss. ‘That's not the point of a house-elf,’ they says, and they slammed the door in Dobby's face! Dobby likes work, but he wants to wear clothes and he wants to be paid. Harry Potter.…Dobby likes being free!” The Hogwarts house-elves had now started edging away from Dobby, as though he were carrying something contagious. Winky, however, remained where she was, though there was a definite increase in the volume other crying. “And then, Harry Potter, Dobby goes to visit Winky, and finds out Winky has been freed too, sir!” said Dobby delightedly. At this, Winky flung herself forward off her stool and lay face-down on the flagged stone floor, beating her tiny fists upon it and positively screaming with misery. Hermione hastily dropped down to her knees beside her and tried to comfort her, but nothing she said made the slightest difference. Dobby continued with his story, shouting shrilly over Winky's screeches. “And then Dobby had the idea. Harry Potter, sir! ‘Why doesn't Dobby and Winky find work together?’ Dobby says. ‘Where is there enough work for two house-elves?’ says Winky. And Dobby thinks, and it comes to him, sir! Hogwarts! So Dobby and Winky came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir, and Professor Dumbledore took us on!” Dobby beamed very brightly, and happy tears welled in his eyes again. “And Professor Dumbledore says he will pay Dobby, sir, if Dobby wants paying! And so Dobby is a free elf, sir, and Dobby gets a Galleon a week and one day off a month!” “That's not very much!” Hermione shouted indignantly from the floor, over Winky's continued screaming and fist-beating. “Professor Dumbledore offered Dobby ten Galleons a week, and weekends off,” said Dobby, suddenly giving a little shiver, as though the prospect of so much leisure and riches were frightening, “but Dobby beat him down, miss.…Dobby likes freedom, miss, but he isn't wanting too much, miss, he likes work better.” “And how much is Professor Dumbledore paying you, Winky?” Hermione asked kindly. If she had thought this would cheer up Winky, she was wildly mistaken. Winky did stop crying, but when she sat up she was glaring at Hermione through her massive brown eyes, her whole face sopping wet and suddenly furious. “Winky is a disgraced elf, but Winky is not yet getting paid!” she squeaked. “Winky is not sunk so low as that! Winky is properly ashamed of being freed!” “Ashamed?” said Hermione blankly. “But - Winky, come on! It's Mr. Crouch who should be ashamed, not you! You didn't do anything wrong, he was really horrible to you -” But at these words, Winky clapped her hands over the holes in her hat, flattening her ears so that she couldn't hear a word, and screeched, “You is not insulting my master, miss! You is not insulting Mr. Crouch! Mr. Crouch is a good wizard, miss! Mr. Crouch is right to sack bad Winky!” “Winky is having trouble adjusting, Harry Potter,” squeaked Dobby confidentially. “Winky forgets she is not bound to Mr. Crouch anymore; she is allowed to speak her mind now, but she won't do it.” “Can't house-elves speak their minds about their masters, then?” Harry asked. “Oh no, sir, no,” said Dobby, looking suddenly serious. “'Tis part of the house-elf's enslavement, sir. We keeps their secrets and our silence, sir. We upholds the family's honor, and we never speaks ill of them - though Professor Dumbledore told Dobby he does not insist upon this. Professor Dumbledore said we is free to - to -” Dobby looked suddenly nervous and beckoned Harry closer. Harry bent forward. Dobby whispered, “He said we is free to call him a - a barmy old codger if we likes, sir!” Dobby gave a frightened sort of giggle. “But Dobby is not wanting to, Harry Potter,” he said, talking normally again, and shaking his head so that his ears flapped. “Dobby likes Professor Dumbledore very much, sir, and is proud to keep his secrets and our silence for him.” “But you can say what you like about the Malfoys now?” Harry asked him, grinning. A slightly fearful look came into Dobby's immense eyes. “Dobby - Dobby could,” he said doubtfully. He squared his small shoulders. “Dobby could tell Harry Potter that his old masters were - were - bad Dark wizards!” Dobby stood for a moment, quivering all over, horror-struck by his own daring - then he rushed over to the nearest table and began banging his head on it very hard, squealing, “Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!” Harry seized Dobby by the back of his tie and pulled him away from the table. “Thank you. Harry Potter, thank you,” said Dobby breathlessly, rubbing his head. “You just need a bit of practice,” Harry said. “Practice!” squealed Winky furiously. “You is ought to be ashamed of yourself, Dobby, talking that way about your masters!” “They isn't my masters anymore, Winky!” said Dobby defiantly. “Dobby doesn't care what they think anymore!” “Oh you is a bad elf, Dobby!” moaned Winky, tears leaking down her face once more. “My poor Mr. Crouch, what is he doing without Winky? He is needing me, he is needing my help! I is looking after the Crouches all my life, and my mother is doing it before me, and my grandmother is doing it before her…oh what is they saying if they knew Winky was freed? Oh the shame, the shame!” She buried her face in her skirt again and bawled. “Winky,” said Hermione firmly, “I'm quite sure Mr. Crouch is getting along perfectly well without you. We've seen him, you know -” “You is seeing my master?” said Winky breathlessly, raising her tearstained face out of her skirt once more and goggling at Hermione. “You is seeing him here at Hogwarts?” “Yes,” said Hermione, “he and Mr. Bagman are judges in the Triwizard Tournament.” “Mr. Bagman comes too?” squeaked Winky, and to Harry ‘s great surprise (and Ron's and Hermione's too, by the looks on their faces), she looked angry again. “Mr. Bagman is a bad wizard! A very bad wizard! My master isn't liking him, oh no, not at all!” “Bagman - bad?” said Harry. “Oh yes,” Winky said, nodding her head furiously, “My master is telling Winky some things! But Winky is not saying…Winky - Winky keeps her master's secrets.…” She dissolved yet again in tears; they could hear her sobbing into her skirt, “Poor master, poor master, no Winky to help him no more!” They couldn't get another sensible word out of Winky. They left her to her crying and finished their tea, while Dobby chatted happily about his life as a free elf and his plans for his wages. “Dobby is going to buy a sweater next, Harry Potter!” he said happily, pointing at his bare chest. “Tell you what, Dobby,” said Ron, who seemed to have taken a great liking to the elf, “I'll give you the one my mum knits me this Christmas, I always get one from her. You don't mind maroon, do you?” Dobby was delighted. “We might have to shrink it a bit to fit you,” Ron told him, “but it'll go well with your tea cozy.” As they prepared to take their leave, many of the surrounding elves pressed in upon them, offering snacks to take back upstairs. Hermione refused, with a pained look at the way the elves kept bowing and curtsying, but Harry and Ron loaded their pockets with cream cakes and pies. “Thanks a lot!” Harry said to the elves, who had all clustered around the door to say good night. “See you, Dobby!” “Harry Potter…can Dobby come and see you sometimes, sir?” Dobby asked tentatively. ” ‘Course you can,” said Harry, and Dobby beamed. “You know what?” said Ron, once he, Hermione, and Harry had left the kitchens behind and were climbing the steps into the entrance hall again. “All these years I've been really impressed with Fred and George, nicking food from the kitchens - well, it's not exactly difficult, is it? They can't wait to give it away!” “I think this is the best thing that could have happened to those elves, you know,” said Hermione, leading the way back up the marble staircase. “Dobby coming to work here, I mean. The other elves will see how happy he is, being free, and slowly it'll dawn on them that they want that too!” “Let's hope they don't look too closely at Winky,” said Harry. “Oh she'll cheer up,” said Hermione, though she sounded a bit doubtful. “Once the shock's worn off, and she's got used to Hogwarts, she'll see how much better off she is without that Crouch man.” “She seems to love him,” said Ron thickly (he had just started on a cream cake). “Doesn't think much of Bagman, though, does she?” said Harry. “Wonder what Crouch says at home about him?” “Probably says he's not a very good Head of Department,” said Hermione, “and let's face it…he's got a point, hasn't he?” “I'd still rather work for him than old Crouch,” said Ron. “At least Bagman's got a sense of humor.” “Don't let Percy hear you saying that,” Hermione said, smiling slightly. “Yeah, well, Percy wouldn't want to work for anyone with a sense of humor, would he?” said Ron, now starting on a chocolate eclair. “Percy wouldn't recognize a joke if it danced naked in front of him wearing Dobby's tea cozy.” 第二十一章 佣人小精灵的解放运动 哈利、罗恩和荷米恩那个晚上起身到奥里路去找皮威军，因为这样哈利就可以给西里斯寄信，告诉他已经毫发未伤地击败了那条龙。在路上，哈利告诉罗恩每一件西里斯告诉他的有关卡克罗夫的事情。罗恩起初听到说卡克罗夫曾经是个食尸者时报震惊，但是当他们走进奥里路时，他还是说他们早就该怀疑他了。 “很震惊吧？”他说，“你还记得那次在火车上，马尔夫说他爸爸和卡克罗夫是朋友吗？现在我们知道他们是在哪儿认识的了。他们很可能在那场世界杯赛上，戴着面具一起玩过呢。告诉你一件事哦，哈利，如果是卡克罗夫把你的名字写在名单上，他现在会感到自己很蠢，是吧？那没起作用，不是吗？你只是被划伤一下！过来——我帮你弄。” 皮威军一想到寄信就有点兴奋过头，他在哈利头上飞呀飞，叫个不停，罗恩一把抓住他，按住他，让哈利把信系在他的脚上。 “没有比这更危险的任务了，是吧？”罗恩边说边把皮威军送到窗口。“你知道吗？我认为你能赢这场比赛，哈利，我是认真的。” 哈利知道罗恩这样说只是为了补偿他前几个星期的行为，但他仍然很感激。荷米恩却斜靠在墙上，交叉着双手，皱着眉头看罗恩。 “哈利在完成比赛之前还有很长的路要走，”她认真地说，“如果那只是第一个任务，那么我讨厌去想第二个。” “只是刚开始，是吧？”罗恩说，“你和特雷络尼教授该找个时间聚一聚。” 他把皮威军扔到窗外，它落下了十二英尺后又重新飞起。系在他脚上的信比平常重了很多——因为哈利迫不及待地要跟西里斯详细讲述他是怎么转弯、盘旋及怎样巧妙地避开号尾龙的。 他们看着皮威军消失在黑暗中，这时罗恩说：“好了，我们到楼下去参加你的惊喜派对吧，哈利——弗来德和乔治本该去厨房偷点东西来吃的。” 果然，当他们进入格林芬顿的公共休息室时，满屋子又一次爆发出欢呼声和叫喊声。屋里到处是如山般高的蛋糕，装有南瓜酱的瓶子和黄油啤酒。李。乔丹已经点燃了菲利布斯特博士的无热的烟花，所以空气中密密麻麻的星光火花相竞争辉。托马斯主任擅长画画，这时他已举起了醒目的新旗帜，上面是大部分画的哈利坐着他的火箭在号尾龙头上盘旋上升，还有一两面是画着塞德里克的头看火了。 哈利尽情地吃着，他几乎忘了什么是饥饿。然后和罗恩和荷米恩一起坐着。他简直不相信自己有这么幸福：有罗恩在他身边，他已经完成了第一次任务，而且三个月内他不会有第二次任务了。 “布林米，这个很重呢。”李。乔丹说。他举着一个金色的蛋，又拿在手里掂量着，这蛋是哈利留在桌子上的。“打开它，哈利，开吧！让我们看看里面是什么！” “他应该自己找出线索，”荷米恩很快回答。“那是比赛规则……” “我应该自己想出如何一个人击败那条龙。”哈利咕哝着，只有荷米恩听见，所以她很内疚似的笑着。 “是啊，开吧，哈利，开吧！”有几个人也附和着。 李把蛋递给哈利，哈利把手指甲插到槽线里，然后沿着槽线划了一圈，之后把它扒开。 蛋里什么也没有，空的，完全空的——但在哈利打开的那一刻，有一种最可怕的声音，一种大声而且尖锐的哭号声充斥着整个房间。这使哈利想起他曾经听说过的那个无头脑尼克在忌日派对上的鬼魂交响乐团，他们经常演奏一些音乐名篇。 “合上它！”弗来德吼叫着，双手捂着耳朵。 “那是什么？”谢默斯说。他两眼盯着那蛋，这时哈利又把它“砰”一声合上了。“听起来像一个女鬼……那可能是你下一个要征服的目标了，哈利！” “好像有人在受折磨！”尼维尔说。他脸色已变得苍白，剥好的香肠都滚到地上去了，“你将不得不和克鲁希尔特斯符咒战斗！？” “别傻了，那是非法的。”乔治说。“他们不会用克鲁布尔特斯诅咒的。我倒觉得那听起来像伯希在唱歌……或许你可以在他洗澡的时候偷袭他一下啊，哈利。” “要一个果酱馅饼吗，荷米恩？”弗来德说。 荷米恩很怀疑似的看着弗来德递给她的盒子，弗来德则在那里露齿而笑。 “好了，看着我，”他说，“我没碰过他们哦，你们看清楚了，这是乳蛋糕奶油——” 尼维尔刚咬了一口奶油，呛了起来，不得不把奶油一口吐出来。 弗来德笑了。“尼维尔，那只是我的一个小玩笑而已嘛……” 荷米恩拿了一块果酱馅饼，接着说：“这些都是从厨房拿的吧，弗来德？” “是的，”弗来德对他笑着说。接着又怪腔怪调地用高音调模仿一只佣人小精灵：“我们可以为你做任何事情，先生，任何事情！” “他们真的很有用……如果我说我饿得很，他们都给我拿来一只烤牛。” “你是怎么进去到那里的？”荷米恩很随便地问道。 “很容易嘛，”弗来德说道，“密封的门后面有一幅画着一碗水果的画。你只要挠那颗梨，它就会咯咯笑，然后——”他停下了，疑惑地看着她，“怎么啦？” “没什么。”荷米恩很快答道。 “现在去把佣人小精灵们带出来举行罢工吧，怎么样？”乔治说，“不要再搞什么宣传单的了，想办法让他们加入这场示威运动中吧？” 几个人大声笑了起来，荷米恩则什么也没说。 “你别总是惹他们生气，你应该告诉他们说他们会拿到衣服和工资的！”弗来德警告似地说。“你应该劝他们做饭！” 这时，尼维尔变成了一只大金丝雀。 “哦，太抱歉了，尼维尔！”弗来德叫着，边笑着，“我忘了——乳蛋糕奶油被我们施法了。” 不一会，尼维尔就蜕变了，当他的羽毛脱落时，他又恢复原样了，他还跟着别人一起笑呢。 “金丝雀奶油！”弗来德对着这群激动的人喊着，“乔治和我发明的——每个七个镰刀币，成交！” 当哈利和罗恩、尼维尔、谢默斯和迪恩走到宿舍时，已是接近凌晨一点了。在把四张海报的床帘拉上之前，哈利把他的匈牙利号尾龙的小模型放在床边的桌子上，那东西打着呵欠，蜷缩着身子，然后闭上了眼睛。真的，哈利想，当他把窗帘拉上时，哈利想到……他们是对的，真的，那些龙…… 十二月刚开始，初冬就把风和露送到了霍格瓦彻。城堡冬天一直都很通风。哈利每次在湖上经过丹姆斯安的船时，看到船在海风中上下颠簸，黑色的帆朝天鼓起，就感到非常惬意。他想，比尔贝顿的住所也应该很冷吧，他注意到哈格力，正在把玛西姆夫人家的马喂得肥肥的，因为有他们喜爱喝的单麦芽威士忌。从马房一角的食槽上浮出的气味就足以使整班在上魔幻生灵保护这门课的人头晕目眩。这当然不好，因为他们照顾的可怕的史库斯需要他们的智慧。 “我不清楚他们是否冬眠。”哈格力正在风很大的南瓜地里教学生们下一课。理特史姬特斜靠在哈格力的花园里的篱笆上，观察着这一片混乱。今天，她穿着一件较厚的紫红色大衣，衣领是毛制，紫色的，肩上还挂着一个鳄鱼皮手提包。 在史库斯把哈利和罗恩逼到走投无路时，哈格力跳到了史库斯上头，把它压倒，这时，一阵阵火焰从它口里喷了出来，把附近的南瓜苗都烧焦了。 “你是谁？”哈格力问。“我是理特。史姬特，《先知日报》的记者。”理特答道，微笑地看着他，她的金牙闪烁着金光。 “丹伯多说你被学校开除了，是吧？”哈格力边说边皱着眉头，把已被制服了的史库斯拽给他的同伴。 理特像是没听见哈格力说话似的。 “这些奇形怪物叫什么？”她问，笑得更灿烂了。 “尾巴会发火的史库斯。”哈格力咕哝着。 “真的？”里特问，显然是真的很感兴趣。“我从没听说过有这种东西呢……他们从哪来的呀？” 哈利此时注意到哈格力鬓须下面所泛出的阵阵脸红，他的心沉了，哈格力到底是怎样弄到这些史库斯的？ 荷米恩好像一直都在想这个问题似的，这时，她马上答道：“他们很有趣，是吧？哈利，你说是不是？” “什么？哦，是，是……哎哟……很有趣。”哈利叫了起来，因为她踩到他的脚了。 “啊，你在这里啊，哈利！”理特。史姬特说着，环顾了一下四周，“所以，你喜欢魔幻生灵的保护这门课？你最喜欢的课之一？” “是的。”哈利很坚定地说。哈格力看着他笑了。 “嗯，很有趣，”理特说，“真的很有趣，教很久了？”她对哈格力补充道。哈利注意到她的眼睛向每个人都扫视了一下，迪恩（一边脸上有一处很重的刀痕），莱文德（长袍被严重烫焦了），西摩斯（在那里护理着他那烫伤的手指），然后再扫向茅屋的窗子，那里有很多学生站着，鼻子紧贴在玻璃窗上，想把海滨看得更清楚些。 “这是我在这里的第二年。”哈格力说。 “嗯，有意思……我想你是不喜欢被访问的吧？但可以和我们分享一下你在接触魔幻生灵过程中的体验吗？我想你是知道的吧，《先知日报》上每个星期三都开一个动物专栏，我们让这群，呃——尾巴呼呼响的史库斯上报吧。” “是尾巴发光的史库斯，”哈格力急切地纠正道。“呃——对吧？” 哈利对此感到很不舒服，但是理特。史姬特在场，他又没办法向哈格力表达。所以哈格力和理特在商量着哪个星期找个时间在三扫帚那里会面进行一次访谈时，也只有默默地站在那里忍受着。不一会儿，城堡的钟声响了，表明了又一节课的结束。 “好了，再见了，哈利！”理特。史姬特看到他和罗恩、荷米恩起身要离开时，高兴地跟他道别。“星期五晚上再见了，哈格力！” “她会扭曲他说的每件事的。”哈利低声说。 “只要他不非法进口那些史库斯或其它的什么就行了。”荷米恩绝望地说，他们望着对方——要是换成哈格力，他也会这样做的。 “哈格力以前老闯祸，可丹伯多从没解雇过她，”罗恩安慰似地说，“最糟的是，哈格力得除掉那些史库斯。对不起，……我是不是说严重了，我本意是好的。” 哈利和荷米恩都笑了，但因此而感到更欢快些，起身去吃午餐了。 现在哈利和罗恩重归于好了。事情就又变得好玩了。他们那天玩双面预知玩得很开心，并且还在一起画星图啊，写预言啊。特雷络尼教授，原来看着他们两个在那里预言自己的死亡时还很开心，但当她解释柏拉图扰乱日常生活的不同方式时，哈利和罗恩窃笑不已，她一下子被激怒了。 “我在想，”她说，又小声又神秘地说，为的是掩饰刚才的怒气，“如果我们中有些人，”——她意味深长地盯着哈利看，“在我昨天晚上的水晶占卜过程中看到了我所看到的东西，他们就不会那么轻浮了。昨天我正在这里，专心地干着手中的针线活的时候，一种强烈的地想要请教一下这水晶的欲念占据了我。我尽力使自己平静下来了，但我还是站了起来，注视着水晶……你们猜一下我看到的是什么？” “一只很丑的戴着一副巨型眼镜的蝙蝠？”罗恩低声说。 哈利忍俊不禁。 “我想可能是死神。” 帕维提和莱文德听了吓得双手捂住嘴巴。 “是的，”特雷络尼教授说，郑重地点了点头。“它来了，越来越近，就像一只兀鹰盘旋在半空中，向着城堡，越来越近……” 她死死地盯着哈利，因为哈利正毫无遮掩地打着呵欠呢。 “真是的，她都不知讲了几十次了，”当他们走出特雷络尼教授的房间、在楼梯间重新呼吸到新鲜空气时，哈利感叹道。“如果她每次说我快死了，我就死了的话，那我将成了医学上的奇迹。” “你本该是一个浓缩的鬼魂嘛，”罗恩咯咯地笑着说。当迎面经过布莱第。巴罗恩时，他的大眼睛很邪恶地瞪着他们。“至少我们没有作业。我希望维克特教授会布置很多作业给荷米恩，我喜欢没事干的时候看着她……” 后来他们去找荷米恩的时候，她不在吃饭，也不在图书馆，在图书馆里的只有维特。克伦。罗恩在书架后转了一会，观察着克伦，和哈利一起窃窃私语，他该不该去要一个铅笔——但当罗恩注意到有六七个女孩藏在隔壁那排书后面，讨论着同一件事时，他顿时对这个想法失去了兴趣。 他俩走回了格利劳顿塔，罗恩说，“不知她去了哪里？” “别……别走。”这时从后面传来的脚步声说明荷米恩已经到了。 “哈利！”她快速跑到他身边停下喘息着说，“哈利，你一定要来——一定要来喔，最精彩的事呢——拜托啦——” 她抓住哈利的手臂，而且开始设法把他拖着走。 “什么事呀！”哈利说。 “到了那儿我会告诉你的——喂，快点，快点嘛——” “好吧，”哈利说着，跟荷米恩起身跑出了走廊，罗恩赶紧跟上。 “荷米恩，我们这是去哪呀？”荷米恩带他们走下了六层楼后，哈利问道。现在他们已走下了大理石楼梯进入到八门大厅。 “你会知道的，你一分钟后就会知道的！”荷米恩激动地说着。 到了楼梯下面，她就向左拐，跟着就快步走向那天晚上塞德里克。 迪格瑞走过的那扇门。 在高脚杯火种反复念叨着哈刮的名字之后，哈利就从没到过这里。他和罗恩跟着荷米恩走过了一段石头砌成的楼梯，跟着是一条宽大的石头走廊。火把照得这里一片光亮，还用一些看起来令人很愉快的画装饰着，这些画大多是关于食物的。 “喂，停一下……”哈利不紧不慢地说，这时已到了走廊中间了。“等一下，荷米恩……” “什么事？”她转身看着他，满脸期待的样子。 “我知道这幅画是什么意思。”哈利说。 他轻轻碰了碰罗恩，指着荷米恩身后的那幅画。画面上是一个巨大的银制的水果托盘。 “荷米恩！”罗恩叫着，“你又想把我们骗到呕吐物那里！” “不，不，我没有！”她匆忙解释道。“而且那也不是呕吐物啊，罗恩——” “你已经帮他们改些名字了？”罗恩说，皱着眉头看她。“我们现在是在做什么，佣人小精灵的解放运动？我不会干预厨房的事情，我不会让他们停止工作的，我不会那样做的——” “我没叫你那样做呀！”荷米恩不耐烦地说着。“我刚才才到这里的，跟他们每个人都说过话了，接着我发现——哎，来吧，哈利，我要带你看些东西！” 她又一次抓住哈利的手臂，把他拉到那幅巨大的水果托盘前面，伸出她的食指，挠了一下那颗巨大的绿色梨。那梨开始蠕动了，还发出咯咯笑声，突然间就变成了一扇大门上的绿色把手。荷米恩抓住它，拧了一下，推开门，从后面把哈利用力推进去。 哈利很快瞥了一眼这个房间。很大，天花板又很高，好像上面有一个会议厅似的，还有一堆堆如山高、闪闪发光的铜罐和平底锅堆积在石墙周围，另一边有一个很大的砖砌成的壁炉。这时，好像有什么东西从房间中间向他飞过来，发出嘎吱声，“哈利。波特，先生！哈利。波特，先生！” 这时，一阵风刮过来，嘎吱小精灵摔在了他的脸部上，紧紧地抱着他，他想他的肋骨都会断掉。 “多——多比？”哈利喘着气问。 “是，我是多比，先生！”他肚脐周围发出了这种长而尖锐的声音。“多比一直就很想很再见到哈利。波特，先生，哈利。波特来看我了。” 多比放开手，后退了几步，微笑着打量哈利，他的绿色的网球形的大眼睛溢着幸福的泪水。多比看上去和哈利记忆中的几乎一模一样：铜笔形状的鼻子，编幅形的耳朵，长长的手指和脚——除了衣服大大地改变了之外。 多比为马尔夫工作的时候，一直就穿着那件肮脏的枕头套。现在，他打扮得比世界杯赛上的巫师还奇怪。他把茶壶罩当成帽子，戴在头上，还别了几个明亮的徽章在上面，一条有马蹄铁图案的领带挂在光着的胸前，还穿着小孩子踢足球时穿的短裤以及不成对的袜子。哈利看到其中一只是黑色的，那是他从自己脚上脱下来、哄骗马尔夫先生把它拿给多比的，而且多比因此获得了自由。另一只，是底色粉红有桔黄色条纹的。 “多比，你来这干什么？”哈利惊奇地说。 “多比已经在霍格瓦彻工作了，先生！”多比兴奋地用尖锐的声音说，“丹伯多教授给了多比和温奇工作呢，先生！”哈利说：“她也在这里？” “是啊，先生，是的！”多比说着，抓起哈利的手，把他拉到厨房，经过两排有着四条长腿而且是木制的桌子时，哈利留意了那些桌子，确实是上面大会厅里四个房间里的桌子。现在，桌面上没有食物，因为晚宴刚刚结束。他想，一小时以前，桌上肯定是摆满了各种各样的菜色，而且还通过天花板送到了上面的同伴那里。 至少有一百只小精灵围在厨房里，当多比领着哈利经过他们身边时，精灵们有的微笑、有的鞠躬，还有的向哈利和多比行屈膝礼。他们都穿着清一色的工作服，茶具拭布上印着霍格瓦彻饰章，系的像温奇系的一样，像一件官服。 多比在砖块砌成的壁炉前面停下了，然后指着那里说。 “温奇，先生！” 温奇正在炉火旁边一只桶上。和多比不一样的是，她没有老是搜寻衣服。她穿着一件上衣，和一条很干净的小裙子，戴着一项与之相衬的蓝帽子，那帽子因为她的大耳朵而穿了几个洞。但是，多比的奇装异服都很干净，而且保管得很好，所以看起来很新。而温奇根本就不在乎自己的衣服。她的上衣从上到下都是汤的污迹，裙子上还有一处焦痕。 “你好，温奇。”哈利说。 温奇的嘴唇微微颤抖着，接着就哭了起来，眼泪从她的棕色的大眼睛里溢了出来，顺着脸颊流到了她的胸前，就像那次在快迪斯世界杯比赛时一样。 “噢，天啊！”荷米恩和罗恩已经跟着哈利和多比来到了厨房里面，荷米恩说：“温奇，别哭，拜托啦，别哭了……” 但温奇哭得更凶了。多比却对哈利笑着。 “哈利。波特想要一杯茶吗？”他大声又尖声说道，声音掩过了温奇的啜泣声。 “嗯——好吧！”哈利说。 很快地，大约有六个小精灵快步走到哈利后面，为哈利，罗恩和荷米恩送来了个装着很多茶壶、杯子以及一瓶牛奶罐和一大盘饼干的很大的银色盘子。 “真是一流服务啊！”罗恩用很满意的语气说。荷米恩对他皱着眉头，但小精灵们都看起来挺高兴的，他们深深鞠躬后就退下了。 “你在这里呆了多久了，多比？”当多比送来茶水的时候，哈利问道。 “才一个星期，哈利被特先生！”多比高兴地说。“多比是来看望丹伯多教授的，先生。你想一下，先生，一个佣人小精灵被开除后要找到一份新工作是很难的，先生，真的很难的——” 这时，温奇哭得更凶了。她的鼻涕流到她胸前了，而她根本就没能阻止。 “多比已经周游全国两年了，先生，到处找工作呀！”多比尖声说道。“先生，因为多比现在就想要工钱！但是多比还没有找到工作呢！” 小精灵们都围到了厨房，看着多比，听得津津有味，但听到这里，个个都看到别处去了，好像多比说了什么粗俗的或令人难堪的话。 荷米恩却说，“你这样做很对，多比！” “谢谢，小姐！”多比说，露着牙齿对着她笑了笑。“但是很多巫师都不想要想得到工钱的小精灵的，小姐。”“那不是一个佣人小精灵的实质。”精灵们说。他们还当着多比的面呼地一声关了门呢！ “多比喜欢工作，但他也想穿衣服，想有工钱呀，哈利。波特……” 多比不断地说！霍格瓦彻的佣人小精灵们都从多比旁边挤过去，想离他远点，好像他有传染病似的。温奇却仍呆在原处不动。但是，她的哭声好像有了提高了。 “然后，哈利。波特就去看望温奇，发现她也已经获得自由了，先生！”多比高兴地说。 听到这里，温奇扑倒在地上，脸朝下，贴着铺着石头的地板，还用她的小拳头捶地板，显然是因为痛苦而尖叫着。荷米恩赶紧跪在旁边，尽力想去安慰她，但无论她怎么努力，她说了跟没说时没什么两样。 多比继续讲他的故事，几乎是用尖叫声喊着，试图掩盖过温奇的尖叫声。“后来多比想到了一个主意，哈利。波特先生！为什么多比和温奇不一起找工作呢？但哪里有需要两人做的工作呢？多比想着。后来他想到了，先生！霍格瓦彻！所以多比和温奇就来拜访了丹伯多教授，先生！然后丹伯多教授就雇用了我们！” 多比高兴地笑着，眼睛里又闪烁着幸福的泪花。 “丹伯多教授说，先生，如果多比想拿工钱的话，他会付钱给多比！所以多比现在是一只自由的小精灵了，先生，而且多比还可以每个星期得到币，每个月还有一天假呢！” “那并不是很多呀！”荷米恩很愤怒地喊道，声音盖过了温奇的尖叫声和拳头捶地板的声音。 “丹伯多教授付给多比每星期十币，还有周末休息呢，”多比说，突然颤了一下，好像这么多空闲和这么多的报酬反倒让人觉得害怕似的，“但是多比让他降低工作，小姐……多比喜欢自由，小姐，但他也不喜欢太多自由，小姐，他喜欢工作得更出色。” “丹伯多教授付给你多少钱呀，温奇？”荷米恩很轻声地问。 如果她认为这样可以让温奇高兴起来的话，那么她就完全错了。温奇并没有停止哭泣，而且，当她坐起来时，她用那双很大的棕色的眼睛瞪着荷米恩，突然间变得很生气。 “温奇是一只失宠的小精灵，而且温奇还没有得到报酬呢？”她尖声叫着。“温奇还不至于这么落魄吧！温奇正是因为被释放而感到羞耻！”多比说。 “羞耻？”荷米恩感到莫明其妙，“哎——温奇，别这样啦！是克劳斯先生该感到羞耻，不是你！你并没做错事啊！是他对你太刻薄了——” 然而，听到这番话，温奇却用手把耳朵压下来。这样，她就听不见荷米恩说话了，她还尖叫着，“你不能侮辱我的主人，小姐！ 你不能侮辱克劳斯先生！克劳斯先生是一个很好的巫师，小姐！克劳斯先生解雇坏温奇是对的！“ “温奇还不能很快适应过来，哈利。波特，”多比很机密地尖声说。“温奇忘了她不再受克劳斯先生的约束的事了，她现在可以自由地说出心里话了，但她不会这么做。” “那么就是说，佣人小精灵不能自由地说关于他们主人的话了？”哈利问道。 “噢，不，不，先生。”多比一下子变得认真起来，说：“这一点就是佣人小精灵所受的束缚了，先生。我们为她们保守秘密而且不能乱说话，先生，我们维护了整个家族的荣誉，从不讲他们坏话——但丹伯多教授告诉多比说，他并不坚持一定要他这样做。丹伯多教授说我们可以自由地——” 多比突然间变得紧张起来，他招手示意哈利走近一点。哈利俯下身子。 多比在他旁边耳语，“他说如果我们喜欢的话，先生！我们可以自由地叫他——呃，——叫他愚蠢的老头或疯老头子。” 多比受惊吓似的傻笑着。 “但是多比并不想这样做，哈利。波特，”他又恢复正常了，还甩了甩头，让他的耳朵拍起来。“多比很喜欢丹伯多教授，先生，所以为能帮他保守秘密而感到骄傲。” “但你现在能说说你为什么不喜欢马尔夫一家人了吧？”哈利问他，露齿而笑。 多比的大眼睛里掠过一丝害怕的神情。 “多比能——多比当然能啦，”他很不确定似的说。挺了挺他的小肩膀，“多比可以告诉哈利。波特，他的老主人是——是，很坏的阴险的巫师！” 多比被自己的勇气吓呆了，站在那里全身都颤抖了好一会，然后，他冲到最近的那张桌子旁边，开始用头重重地去向桌子，很大力地尖声叫着，“坏多比！坏多比！” 哈利抓着多比后面的带子，把他从桌子那里拉开来。 “谢谢，哈利。波特，谢谢。”多比喘息着说，摸了摸他的脑袋。 “你需要练习一下，习惯一下。”哈利说。 “习惯！”温奇很恼火地尖声说，“你应该为你自己感到羞耻，多比，那样说你的主人！” “他们不再是我的主人了，温奇！”多比反抗似的纠正道。“多比已经不在乎他们是怎么想的了！” “哦，你真是一个坏精灵啊，多比！”温奇嘟囔着，眼泪又一次顺着脸颊滚下来。“我可怜的克劳斯先生，他现在没有了温奇在身边，不知道正在做什么呢？他需要我！他需要我的帮助！我要用我的生命来照顾克劳斯全家，我妈妈以前就是那样做的，我外婆也是那样做的……哦，他们如果知道温奇被释放了会怎么想呢？哎，羞耻啊！羞耻！”她又把脸埋进了裙子里，然后大喊大叫着。 “温奇，”荷米恩很坚定地说，“我很肯定地跟你说，克劳斯先生没有你，现在仍过得很好。我们已经去看过他了，你知不知道”你看过了我的主人？“温奇喘息着问，又一次抬起了她那满是泪痕的脸，对着荷米恩咯咯地笑，”你在霍格瓦彻看过他了？“ “是的，”荷米恩说，“他和巴格蒙都是三巫师争霸赛里的裁判。” “巴格蒙先生也来了？”温奇尖声问，使哈利感到惊奇的是，温奇又不高兴了。“巴格蒙先生是个坏巫师！是个坏透了的巫师！我的主人不会喜欢他的。懊，不，根本不可能的！” “巴格蒙——很坏？”哈利说。 “嗯，是的，”温奇说，使劲点头。“我的主人告诉过温奇一些事情的！不过，温奇不会说的……温奇——温奇会为主人保守秘密的……” 她又哭了，埋在裙子里呜咽着，“可怜的主人，可怜的主人呀，再没有温奇在身边帮他了！” 他们再也没能从温奇那里听到更理智的话了，就让她哭着，继续喝他们的茶，听多比高兴地讲他作为一只自由小精灵的生活，还有他的工资设想。 “多比接下来想买一件长背心，哈利。波特！”他高兴地说，批判他光着的胸膛。 “告诉你，多比，”罗恩说，好像喜欢上了这只小精灵，“我给你这个圣诞节我妈妈给我的那件吧，她经常会织给我的。你喜欢茶色的吧？” 多比高兴极了。 “我们把它缩小点，才会适合你穿，”罗恩告诉他，“但是不衬你那顶茶壶罩帽子哦。” 当他们准备离开时，很多小精灵挤向他们，拿了很多小吃给他们让他们拿到楼上吃。荷米恩拒绝了，脸上一副很痛苦的表情，因为她想到小精灵们对他们又是鞠躬，又是行屈膝礼的，就很难受。 但，哈利和罗恩的口袋里却装满了奶油蛋糕和馅饼。 “太谢谢你们了！”哈利对簇拥着到门口道晚安的小精灵们说。 “再见了，多比！” “哈利。波特……多比能去看你吗？”多比突然冒出了这句话。 “当然能啦！”哈利答道，多比高兴地笑了。 “你知道什么？”他们走出厨房，来到了通向入口大厅的楼梯上时，罗恩问，“这些年来，弗来德和乔治确实给我留下了深刻印像，他们从厨房里偷食物——唉，不是很难，是吧？他们都很不得把他们派送掉呢！” “我想这就是能发生在那些小精灵身上最好的事情了，你知道的，”走回到大理石楼梯那里的时候，荷米恩说，“我想其它小精灵见多比来这里工作这么幸福，这么自由，慢慢地，他们也会想这样的！” “希望他们不要向温奇看齐。”哈利说。 “哦，她会振作起来的。”荷米恩说，但是不太确定一样，“只要这场震惊过后，她就会习惯霍格瓦彻的，她会发现没有那个克劳斯，她还是会过得那么满足的。” “她好像很爱他呀。”罗恩声音沙哑地说（他已经开始吃那奶油蛋糕了）。 “不喜欢巴格蒙，真的不喜欢？”哈利问道，“真不知道克劳斯在家里讲了他什么话？” “可能说他不是一个很好的领导吧，”荷米恩说，“唉，算了吧，面对现实吧……他说的也有道理啊，不是吗？” “但我更愿意为他工作，而不是老克劳斯，”罗恩说，“至少巴格蒙有幽默感。” “可别让伯希听到你这样说。”荷米恩说着，轻轻地笑了。 “嗯，是哦，伯希不喜欢给有幽默感的人做事，是吧？”罗恩开始吃那巧克力酥卷了，他说，“伯希不会意识到那只是一个玩笑，如果有人戴着多比的那顶茶壶盖在他面前跳裸舞的话。” |
Chapter 20 The First Task Harry got up on Sunday morning and dressed so inattentively that it was a while before he realized he was trying to pull his hat onto his foot instead of his sock. When he'd finally got all his clothes on the right parts of his body, he hurried off to find Hermione, locating her at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, where she was eating breakfast with Ginny. Feeling too queasy to eat, Harry waited until Hermione had swallowed her last spoonful of porridge, then dragged her out onto the grounds. There, he told her all about the dragons, and about everything Sirius had said, while they took another long walk around the lake. Alarmed as she was by Sirius's warnings about Karkaroff, Hermione still thought that the dragons were the more pressing problem. “Let's just try and keep you alive until Tuesday evening,” she said desperately, “and then we can worry about Karkaroff.” They walked three times around the lake, trying all the way to think of a simple spell that would subdue a dragon. Nothing whatsoever occurred to them, so they retired to the library instead. Here, Harry pulled down every book he could find on dragons, and both of them set to work searching through the large pile. “Talon-clipping by charms…treating scale-rot…’ This is no good, this is for nutters like Hagrid who want to keep them healthy…” “Dragons are extremely difficult to slay, owing to the ancient magic that imbues their thick hides, which none but the most powerful spells can penetrate…’ But Sirius said a simple one would do it…” “Let's try some simple spellbooks, then,” said Harry, throwing aside Men Who Love Dragons Too Much. He returned to the table with a pile of spellbooks, set them down, and began to flick through each in turn, Hermione whispering nonstop at his elbow. “Well, there are Switching Spells…but what's the point of Switching it? Unless you swapped its fangs for wine-gums or something that would make it less dangerous.…The trouble is, like that book said, not much is going to get through a dragon's hide.…I'd say Transfigure it, but something that big, you really haven't got a hope, I doubt even Professor McGonagall…unless you're supposed to put the spell on yourself? Maybe to give yourself extra powers? But they're not simple spells, I mean, we haven't done any of those in class, I only know about them because I've been doing O.W.L. practice papers.…” “Hermione,” Harry said, through gritted teeth, “will you shut up for a bit, please? I m trying to concentrate.” But all that happened, when Hermione fell silent, was that Harry's brain filled with a sort of blank buzzing, which didn't seem to allow room for concentration. He stared hopelessly down the index of Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed. Instant scalping…but dragons had no hair…pepper breath…that would probably increase a dragon's firepower…horn tongue…just what he needed, to give it an extra weapon… “Oh no, he's back again, why can't he read on his stupid ship?” said Hermione irritably as Viktor Krum slouched in, cast a surly look over at the pair of them, and settled himself in a distant corner with a pile of books. “Come on, Harry, we'll go back to the common room…his fan club'll be here in a moment, twittering away….” And sure enough, as they left the library, a gang of girls tiptoed past them, one of them wearing a Bulgaria scarf tied around her waist. * * * * * * Harry barely slept that night. When he awoke on Monday morning, he seriously considered for the first time ever just running away from Hogwarts. But as he looked around the Great Hall at breakfast time, and thought about what leaving the castle would mean, he knew he couldn't do it. It was the only place he had ever been happy…well, he supposed he must have been happy with his parents too, but he couldn't remember that. Somehow, the knowledge that he would rather be here and facing a dragon than back on Privet Drive with Dudley was good to know; it made him feel slightly calmer. He finished his bacon with difficulty (his throat wasn't working too well), and as he and Hermione got up, he saw Cedric Diggory leaving the Hufflepuff table. Cedric still didn't know about the dragons…the only champion who didn't, if Harry was right in thinking that Maxime and Karkaroff would have told Fleur and Krum.… “Hermione, I'll see you in the greenhouses,” Harry said, coming to his decision as he watched Cedric leaving the Hall. “Go on, I'll catch you up.” “Harry, you'll be late, the bell's about to ring -” “I'll catch you up, okay?” By the time Harry reached the bottom of the marble staircase, Cedric was at the top. He was with a load of sixth-year friends. Harry didn't want to talk to Cedric in front of them; they were among those who had been quoting Rita Skeeter's article at him every time he went near them. He followed Cedric at a distance and saw that he was heading toward the Charms corridor. This gave Harry an idea. Pausing at a distance from them, he pulled out his wand, and took careful aim. “Diffindo!” Cedric's bag split. Parchment, quills, and books spilled out of it onto the floor. Several bottles of ink smashed. “Don't bother,” said Cedric in an exasperated voice as his friends bent down to help him. “Tell Flitwick I'm coming, go on…” This was exactly what Harry had been hoping for. He slipped his wand back into his robes, waited until Cedric's friends had disappeared into their classroom, and hurried up the corridor, which was now empty of everyone but himself and Cedric. “Hi,” said Cedric, picking up a copy of A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration that was now splattered with ink. “My bag just split…brand-new and all…” “Cedric,” said Harry, “the first task is dragons.” “What?” said Cedric, looking up. “Dragons,” said Harry, speaking quickly, in case Professor Flitwick came out to see where Cedric had got to. “They've got four, one for each of us, and we've got to get past them.” Cedric stared at him. Harry saw some of the panic he'd been feeling since Saturday night flickering in Cedric's gray eyes. “Are you sure?” Cedric said in a hushed voice. “Dead sure,” said Harry. “I've seen them.” “But how did you find out? We're not supposed to know.…” “Never mind,” said Harry quickly - he knew Hagrid would be in trouble if he told the truth. “But I'm not the only one who knows. Fleur and Krum will know by now - Maxime and Karkaroff both saw the dragons too.” Cedric straightened up, his arms full of inky quills, parchment, and books, his ripped bag dangling off one shoulder. He stared at Harry, and there was a puzzled, almost suspicious look in his eyes. “Why are you telling me?” he asked. Harry looked at him in disbelief. He was sure Cedric wouldn't have asked that if he had seen the dragons himself. Harry wouldn't have let his worst enemy face those monsters unprepared - well, perhaps Malfoy or Snape.… “It's just…fair, isn't it?” he said to Cedric. “We all know now…we're on an even footing, aren't we?” Cedric was still hooking at him in a slightly suspicious way when Harry heard a familiar clunking noise behind him. He turned around and saw Mad-Eye Moody emerging from a nearby classroom. “Come with me, Potter,” he growled. “Diggory, off you go.” Harry stared apprehensively at Moody. Had he overheard them? “Er - Professor, I'm supposed to be in Herbology -” “Never mind that, Potter. In my office, please…” Harry followed him, wondering what was going to happen to him now. What if Moody wanted to know how he'd found out about the dragons? Would Moody go to Dumbledore and tell on Hagrid, or just turn Harry into a ferret? Well, it might be easier to get past a dragon if he were a ferret, Harry thought dully, he'd be smaller, much less easy to see from a height of fifty feet.… He followed Moody into his office. Moody closed the door behind them and turned to look at Harry, his magical eye fixed upon him as well as the normal one. “That was a very decent thing you just did, Potter,” Moody said quietly. Harry didn't know what to say; this wasn't the reaction he had expected at all. “Sit down,” said Moody, and Harry sat, looking around. He had visited this office under two of its previous occupants. In Professor Lockhart's day, the walls had been plastered with beaming, winking pictures of Professor Lockhart himself. When Lupin had lived here, you were more likely to come across a specimen of some fascinating new Dark creature he had procured for them to study in class. Now, however, the office was full of a number of exceptionally odd objects that Harry supposed Moody had used in the days when he had been an Auror. On his desk stood what looked hike a large, cracked, glass spinning top; Harry recognized it at once as a Sneakoscope, because he owned one himself, though it was much smaller than Moody's. In the corner on a small table stood an object that looked something like an extra-squiggly, golden television aerial. It was humming slightly. What appeared to be a mirror hung opposite Harry on the wall, but it was not reflecting the room. Shadowy figures were moving around inside it, none of them clearly in focus. “Like my Dark Detectors, do you?” said Moody, who was watching Harry closely. “What's that?” Harry asked, pointing at the squiggly golden aerial. “Secrecy Sensor. Vibrates when it detects concealment and lies…no use here, of course, too much interference - students in every direction lying about why they haven't done their homework. Been humming ever since I got here. I had to disable my Sneakoscope because it wouldn't stop whistling. It's extra-sensitive, picks up stuff about a mile around. Of course, it could be picking up more than kid stuff,” he added in a growl. “And what's the mirror for?” “Oh that's my Foe-Glass. See them out there, skulking around? I'm not really in trouble until I see the whites of their eyes. That's when I open my trunk.” He let out a short, harsh laugh, and pointed to the large trunk under the window. It had seven keyholes in a row. Harry wondered what was in there, until Moody's next question brought him sharply back to earth. “So…found out about the dragons, have you?” Harry hesitated. He'd been afraid of this - but he hadn't told Cedric, and he certainly wasn't going to tell Moody, that Hagrid had broken the rules. “It's all right,” said Moody, sitting down and stretching out his wooden leg with a groan. “Cheating's a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and always has been.” “I didn't cheat,” said Harry sharply. “It was - a sort of accident that I found out.” Moody grinned. “I wasn't accusing you, laddie. I've been telling Dumbledore from the start, he can be as high-minded as he likes, but you can bet old Karkaroff and Maxime won't be. They'll have told their champions everything they can. They want to win. They want to beat Dumbledore. They'd like to prove he's only human.” Moody gave another harsh laugh, and his magical eye swiveled around so fast it made Harry feel queasy to watch it. “So…got any ideas how you're going to get past your dragon yet?” said Moody. “No,” said Harry. “Well, I'm not going to tell you,” said Moody gruffly. “I don't show favoritism, me. I'm just going to give you some good, general advice. And the first bit is - play to your strengths.” “I haven't got any,” said Harry, before he could stop himself. “Excuse me,” growled Moody, “you've got strengths if I say you've got them. Think now. What are you best at?” Harry tried to concentrate. What was he best at? Well, that was easy, really - “Quidditch,” he said dully, “and a fat lot of help -” “That's right,” said Moody, staring at him very hard, his magical eye barely moving at all. “You're a damn good flier from what I've heard.” “Yeah, but…” Harry stared at him. “I'm not allowed a broom, I've only got my wand…” “My second piece of general advice,” said Moody loudly, interrupting him, “is to use a nice, simple spell that will enable you to get what you need.” Harry looked at him blankly. What did he need? “Come on, boy…” whispered Moody. “Put them together…it's not that difficult…” And it clicked. He was best at flying. He needed to pass the dragon in the air. For that, he needed his Firebolt. And for his Fire-bolt, he needed - * * * * * * “Hermione,” Harry whispered, when he had sped into greenhouse three minutes later, uttering a hurried apology to Professor Sprout as he passed her. “Hermione - I need you to help me.” “What d'you think I've been trying to do, Harry?” she whispered back, her eyes round with anxiety over the top of the quivering Flutterby Bush she was pruning. “Hermione, I need to learn how to do a Summoning Charm properly by tomorrow afternoon.” And so they practiced. They didn't have lunch, but headed for a free classroom, where Harry tried with all his might to make various objects fly across the room toward him. He was still having problems. The books and quills kept losing heart halfway across the room and dropping hike stones to the floor. “Concentrate, Harry, concentrate.…” “What d'you think I'm trying to do?” said Harry angrily. “A great big dragon keeps popping up in my head for some reason…Okay, try again…” He wanted to skip Divination to keep practicing, but Hermione refused point-blank to skive off Arithmancy, and there was no point in staying without her. He therefore had to endure over an hour of Professor Trelawney, who spent half the lesson telling everyone that the position of Mars with relation to Saturn at that moment meant that people born in July were in great danger of sudden, violent deaths. “Well, that's good,” said Harry loudly, his temper getting the better of him, “just as long as it's not drawn-out. I don't want to suffer.” Ron looked for a moment as though he was going to laugh; he certainly caught Harry's eye for the first time in days, but Harry was still feeling too resentful toward Ron to care. He spent the rest of the lesson trying to attract small objects toward him under the table with his wand. He managed to make a fly zoom straight into his hand, though he wasn't entirely sure that was his prowess at Summoning Charms - perhaps the fly was just stupid. He forced down some dinner after Divination, then returned to the empty classroom with Hermione, using the Invisibility Cloak to avoid the teachers. They kept practicing until past midnight. They would have stayed longer, but Peeves turned up and, pretending to think that Harry wanted things thrown at him, started chucking chairs across the room. Harry and Hermione left in a hurry before the noise attracted Filch, and went back to the Gryffindor common room, which was now mercifully empty. At two o'clock in the morning, Harry stood near the fireplace, surrounded by heaps of objects: books, quills, several upturned chairs, an old set of Gobstones, and Neville's toad, Trevor. Only in the last hour had Harry really got the hang of the Summoning Charm. “That's better, Harry, that's loads better,” Hermione said, looking exhausted but very pleased. “Well, now we know what to do next time I can't manage a spell,” Harry said, throwing a rune dictionary back to Hermione, so he could try again, “threaten me with a dragon. Right…” He raised his wand once more. “Accio Dictionary!” The heavy book soared out of Hermione's hand, flew across the room, and Harry caught it. “Harry, I really think you've got it!” said Hermione delightedly. “Just as long as it works tomorrow,” Harry said. “The Firebolt's going to be much farther away than the stuff in here, it's going to be in the castle, and I'm going to be out there on the grounds…” “That doesn't matter,” said Hermione firmly.” Just as long as you're concentrating really, really hard on it, it'll come. Harry, we'd better get some sleep…you're going to need it.” * * * * * * Harry had been focusing so hard on learning the Summoning Charm that evening that some of his blind panic had heft him. It returned in full measure, however, on the following morning. The atmosphere in the school was one of great tension and excitement. Lessons were to stop at midday, giving all the students time to get down to the dragons’ enclosure - though of course, they didn't yet know what they would find there. Harry felt oddly separate from everyone around him, whether they were wishing him good luck or hissing “We'll have a box of tissues ready, Potter” as he passed. It was a state of nervousness so advanced that he wondered whether he mightn't just lose his head when they tried to lead him out to his dragon, and start trying to curse everyone in sight. Time was behaving in a more peculiar fashion than ever, rushing past in great dollops, so that one moment he seemed to be sitting down in his first lesson, History of Magic, and the next, walking into lunch…and then (where had the morning gone? the last of the dragon-free hours?), Professor McGonagall was hurrying over to him in the Great Hall. Lots of people were watching. “Potter, the champions have to come down onto the grounds now.…You have to get ready for your first task.” “Okay,” said Harry, standing up, his fork falling onto his plate with a clatter. “Good luck, Harry,” Hermione whispered. “You'll be fine!” “Yeah,” said Harry in a voice that was most unlike his own. He heft the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall. She didn't seem herself either; in fact, she looked nearly as anxious as Hermione. As she walked him down the stone steps and out into the cold November afternoon, she put her hand on his shoulder. “Now, don't panic,” she said, “just keep a cool head.…We've got wizards standing by to control the situation if it gets out of hand.…The main thing is just to do your best, and nobody will think any the worse of you.…Are you all right?” “Yes,” Harry heard himself say. “Yes, I'm fine.” She was leading him toward the place where the dragons were, around the edge of the forest, but when they approached the clump of trees behind which the enclosure would be clearly visible, Harry saw that a tent had been erected, its entrance facing them, screening the dragons from view. “You're to go in here with the other champions,” said Professor McGonagall, in a rather shaky sort of voice, “and wait for your turn, Potter. Mr. Bagman is in there…he'll be telling you the - the procedure.… Good luck.” “Thanks,” said Harry, in a flat, distant voice. She left him at the entrance of the tent. Harry went inside. Fleur Delacour was sitting in a corner on a how wooden stool. She didn't look nearly as composed as usual, but rather pale and clammy. Viktor Krum looked even surlier than usual, which Harry supposed was his way of showing nerves. Cedric was pacing up and down. When Harry entered, Cedric gave him a small smile, which Harry returned, feeling the muscles in his face working rather hard, as though they had forgotten how to do it. “Harry! Good-o!” said Bagman happily, looking around at him. “Come in, come in, make yourself at home!” Bagman looked somehow like a slightly overblown cartoon figure, standing amid all the pale-faced champions. He was wearing his old Wasp robes again. “Well, now we're all here - time to fill you in!” said Bagman brightly. “When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag” - he held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at them - “from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different - er - varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too…ah, yes…your task is to collect the golden egg!” Harry glanced around. Cedric had nodded once, to show that he understood Bagman's words, and then started pacing around the tent again; he looked slightly green. Fleur Delacour and Krum hadn't reacted at all. Perhaps they thought they might be sick if they opened their mouths; that was certainly how Harry felt. But they, at least, had volunteered for this… And in no time at all, hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of feet could be heard passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking.…Harry felt as separate from the crowd as though they were a different species. And then - it seemed like about a second later to Harry - Bagman was opening the neck of the purple silk sack. “Ladies first,” he said, offering it to Fleur Delacour. She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon - a Welsh Green. It had the number two around its neck And Harry knew, by the fact that Fleur showed no sign of surprise, but rather a determined resignation, that he had been right: Madame Maxime had told her what was coming. The same held true for Krum. He pulled out the scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had a number three around its neck. He didn't even blink, just sat back down and stared at the ground. Cedric put his hand into the bag, and out came the blueish-gray Swedish Short-Snout, the number one tied around its neck. Knowing what was left, Harry put his hand into the silk bag and pulled out the Hungarian Horntail, and the number four. It stretched its wings as he looked down at it, and bared its minuscule fangs. “Well, there you are!” said Bagman. “You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I'm going to have to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Mr. Diggory, you're first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right? Now…Harry…could I have a quick word? Outside?” “Er…yes,” said Harry blankly, and he got up and went out of the tent with Bagman, who walked him a short distance away, into the trees, and then turned to him with a fatherly expression on his face. “Feeling all right, Harry? Anything I can get you?” “What?” said Harry. “I - no, nothing.” “Got a plan?” said Bagman, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Because I don't mind sharing a few pointers, if you'd like them, you know. I mean,” Bagman continued, lowering his voice still further, “you're the underdog here, Harry.…Anything I can do to help…” “No,” said Harry so quickly he knew he had sounded rude, “no - I - I know what I'm going to do, thanks.” “Nobody would know, Harry,” said Bagman, winking at him. “No, I'm fine,” said Harry, wondering why he kept telling people this, and wondering whether he had ever been less fine. “I've got a plan worked out, I -” A whistle had blown somewhere. “Good lord, I've got to run!” said Bagman in alarm, and he hurried off. Harry walked back to the tent and saw Cedric emerging from it, greener than ever. Harry tried to wish him luck as he walked past, but all that came out of his mouth was a sort of hoarse grunt. Harry went back inside to Fleur and Krum. Seconds hater, they heard the roar of the crowd, which meant Cedric had entered the enclosure and was now face-to-face with the living counterpart of his model.… It was worse than Harry could ever have imagined, sitting there and listening. The crowd screamed…yelled…gasped like a single many-headed entity, as Cedric did whatever he was doing to get past the Swedish Short-Snout. Krum was still staring at the ground. Fleur had now taken to retracing Cedric's steps, around and around the tent. And Bagman's commentary made everything much, much worse.…Horrible pictures formed in Harry's mind as he heard: “Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow"… “He's taking risks, this one!"…"Clever move - pity it didn't work!” And then, after about fifteen minutes, Harry heard the deafening roar that could mean only one thing: Cedric had gotten past his dragon and captured the golden egg. “Very good indeed!” Bagman was shouting. “And now the marks from the judges!” But he didn't shout out the marks; Harry supposed the judges were holding them up and showing them to the crowd. “One down, three to go!” Bagman yelled as the whistle blew again. “Miss Delacour, if you please!” Fleur was trembling from head to foot; Harry felt more warmly toward her than he had done so far as she heft the tent with her head held high and her hand clutching her wand. He and Krum were left alone, at opposite sides of the tent, avoiding each other's gaze. The same process started again.…"Oh I'm not sure that was wise!” they could hear Bagman shouting gleefully. “Oh…nearly! Careful now…good lord, I thought she'd had it then!” Ten minutes later, Harry heard the crowd erupt into applause once more.…Fleur must have been successful too. A pause, while Fleur's marks were being shown…more clapping…then, for the third time, the whistle. “And here comes Mr. Krum!” cried Bagman, and Krum slouched out, leaving Harry quite alone. He felt much more aware of his body than usual; very aware of the way his heart was pumping fast, and his fingers tingling with fear…yet at the same time, he seemed to be outside himself, seeing the walls of the tent, and hearing the crowd, as though from far away. “Very daring!” Bagman was yelling, and Harry heard the Chinese Fireball emit a horrible, roaring shriek, while the crowd drew its collective breath. “That's some nerve he's showing - and - yes, he's got the egg!” Applause shattered the wintery air like breaking glass; Krum had finished - it would be Harry's turn any moment. He stood up, noticing dimly that his legs seemed to be made of marshmallow. He waited. And then he heard the whistle blow. He walked out through the entrance of the tent, the panic rising into a crescendo inside him. And now he was walking past the trees, through a gap in the enclosure fence. He saw everything in front of him as though it was a very highly colored dream. There were hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down at him from stands that had been magicked there since he'd last stood on this spot. And there was the Horntail, at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon him, a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, heaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground. The crowd was making a great deal of noise, but whether friendly or not, Harry didn't know or care. It was time to do what he had to do…to focus his mind, entirely and absolutely, upon the thing that was his only chance. He raised his wand. “Accio Firebolt!” he shouted. Harry waited, every fiber of him hoping, praying.…If it hadn't worked…if it wasn't coming…He seemed to be looking at everything around him through some sort of shimmering, transparent barrier, like a heat haze, which made the enclosure and the hundreds of faces around him swim strangely.… And then he heard it, speeding through the air behind him; he turned and saw his Firebolt hurtling toward him around the edge of the woods, soaring into the enclosure, and stopping dead in midair beside him, waiting for him to mount. The crowd was making even more noise.…Bagman was shouting something…but Harry's ears were not working properly anymore…listening wasn't important.… He swung his leg over the broom and kicked off from the ground. And a second later, something miraculous happened.… As he soared upward, as the wind rushed through his hair, as the crowd's faces became mere flesh-colored pinpnicks below, and the Horntail shrank to the size of a dog, he realized that he had left not only the ground behind, but also his fear.…He was back where he belonged.… This was just another Quidditch match, that was all…just another Quidditch match, and that Horntail was just another ugly opposing team.… He looked down at the clutch of eggs and spotted the gold one, gleaming against its cement-colored fellows, residing safely between the dragon's front legs. “Okay,” Harry told himself, “diversionary tactics…let's go…” He dived. The Horntail's head followed him; he knew what it was going to do and pulled out of the dive just in time; a jet of fire had been released exactly where he would have been had he not swerved away…but Harry didn't care…that was no more than dodging a Bludger.… “Great Scott, he can fly!” yelled Bagman as the crowd shrieked and gasped. “Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?” Harry soared higher in a circle; the Horntail was still following his progress; its head revolving on its long neck - if he kept this up, it would be nicely dizzy - but better not push it too long, or it would be breathing fire again - Harry plummeted just as the Horntail opened its mouth, but this time he was less lucky - he missed the flames, but the tail came whipping up to meet him instead, and as he swerved to the left, one of the long spikes grazed his shoulder, ripping his robes - He could feel it stinging, he could hear screaming and groans from the crowd, but the cut didn't seem to be deep.…Now he zoomed around the back of the Horntail, and a possibility occurred to him.… The Horntail didn't seem to want to take off, she was too protective of her eggs. Though she writhed and twisted, furling and unfurling her wings and keeping those fearsome yellow eyes on Harry, she was afraid to move too far from them…but he had to persuade her to do it, or he'd never get near them.…The trick was to do it carefully, gradually.… He began to fly, first this way, then the other, not near enough to make her breathe fire to stave him off, but still posing a sufficient threat to ensure she kept her eyes on him. Her head swayed this way and that, watching him out of those vertical pupils, her fangs bared.… He flew higher. The Horntail's head rose with him, her neck now stretched to its fullest extent, still swaying, hike a snake before its charmer.… Harry rose a few more feet, and she let out a roar of exasperation. He was like a fly to her, a fly she was longing to swat; her tail thrashed again, but he was too high to reach now.…She shot fire into the air, which he dodged.…Her jaws opened wide.… “Come on,” Harry hissed, swerving tantalizingly above her, “come on, come and get me…up you get now…” And then she reared, spreading her great, black, leathery wings at last, as wide as those of a small airplane - and Harry dived. Before the dragon knew what he had done, or where he had disappeared to, he was speeding toward the ground as fast as he could go, toward the eggs now unprotected by her clawed front legs - he had taken his hands off his Firebolt - he had seized the golden egg - And with a huge spurt of speed, he was off, he was soaring out over the stands, the heavy egg safely under his uninjured arm, and it was as though somebody had just turned the volume back up - for the first time, he became properly aware of the noise of the crowd, which was screaming and applauding as loudly as the Irish supporters at the World Cup - “Look at that!” Bagman was yelling. “Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!” Harry saw the dragon keepers rushing forward to subdue the Horntail, and, over at the entrance to the enclosure, Professor McGonagall, Professor Moody, and Hagrid hurrying to meet him, all of them waving him toward them, their smiles evident even from this distance. He flew back over the stands, the noise of the crowd pounding his eardrums, and came in smoothly to land, his heart lighter than it had been in weeks.…He had got through the first task, he had survived.… “That was excellent, Potter!” cried Professor McGonagall as he got off the Firebolt - which from her was extravagant praise. He noticed that her hand shook as she pointed at his shoulder. “You'll need to see Madam Pomfrey before the judges give out your score.…Over there, she's had to mop up Diggory already.…” “Yeh did it, Harry!” said Hagrid hoarsely. “Yeh did it! An’ agains’ the Horntail an’ all, an’ yeh know Charlie said that was the wors’ -” “Thanks, Hagrid,” said Harry loudly, so that Hagrid wouldn't blunder on and reveal that he had shown Harry the dragons beforehand. Professor Moody looked very pleased too; his magical eye was dancing in its socket. “Nice and easy does the trick, Potter,” he growled. “Right then, Potter, the first aid tent, please…” said Professor McGonagall. Harry walked out of the enclosure, still panting, and saw Madam Pomfrey standing at the mouth of a second tent, looking worried. “Dragons!” she said, in a disgusted tone, pulling Harry inside. The tent was divided into cubicles; he could make out Cedric's shadow through the canvas, but Cedric didn't seem to be badly injured; he was sitting up, at least. Madam Pomfrey examined Harry's shoulder, talking furiously all the while. “Last year dementors, this year dragons, what are they going to bring into this school next? You're very lucky…this is quite shallow…it'll need cleaning before I heal it up, though….” She cleaned the cut with a dab of some purple liquid that smoked and stung, but then poked his shoulder with her wand, and he felt it heal instantly. “Now, just sit quietly for a minute - sit! And then you can go and get your score.” She bustled out of the tent and he heard her go next door and say, “How does it feel now, Diggory?” Harry didn't want to sit still. He was too full of adrenaline. He got to his feet, wanting to see what was going on outside, but before he'd reached the mouth of the tent, two people had come darting inside - Hermione, followed closely by Ron. “Harry, you were brilliant!” Hermione said squeakily. There were fingernail marks on her face where she had been clutching it in fear. “You were amazing! You really were!” But Harry was looking at Ron, who was very white and staring at Harry as though he were a ghost. “Harry,” he said, very seriously, “whoever put your name in that goblet - I - I reckon they're trying to do you in!” It was as though the last few weeks had never happened - as though Harry were meeting Ron for the first time, right after he'd been made champion. “Caught on, have you?” said Harry coldly. “Took you long enough.” Hermione stood nervously between them, looking from one to the other. Ron opened his mouth uncertainly. Harry knew Ron was about to apologize and suddenly he found he didn't need to hear it. “It's okay,” he said, before Ron could get the words out. “Forget it.” “No,” said Ron, “I shouldn't've -” “Forget it, “Harry said. Ron grinned nervously at him, and Harry grinned back. Hermione burst into tears. “There's nothing to cry about!” Harry told her, bewildered. “You two are so stupid!” she shouted, stamping her foot on the ground, tears splashing down her front. Then, before either of them could stop her, she had given both of them a hug and dashed away, now positively howling. “Barking mad,” said Ron, shaking his head. “Harry, c'mon, they'll be putting up your scores.…” Picking up the golden egg and his Firebolt, feeling more elated than he would have believed possible an hour ago, Harry ducked out of the tent, Ron by his side, talking fast. “You were the best, you know, no competition. Cedric did this weird thing where he Transfigured a rock on the ground…turned it into a dog…he was trying to make the dragon go for the dog instead of him. Well, it was a pretty cool bit of Transfiguration, and it sort of worked, because he did get the egg, but he got burned as well - the dragon changed its mind halfway through and decided it would rather have him than the Labrador; he only just got away. And that Fleur girl tried this sort of charm, I think she was trying to put it into a trance - well, that kind of worked too, it went all sleepy, but then it snored, and this great jet of flame shot out, and her skirt caught fire - she put it out with a bit of water out of her wand. And Krum - you won't believe this, but he didn't even think of flying! He was probably the best after you, though. Hit it with some sort of spell right in the eye. Only thing is, it went trampling around in agony and squashed half the real eggs - they took marks off for that, he wasn't supposed to do any damage to them.” Ron drew breath as he and Harry reached the edge of the enclosure. Now that the Horntail had been taken away, Harry could see where the five judges were sitting - right at the other end, in raised seats draped in gold. “It's marks out of ten from each one,” Ron said, and Harry squinting up the field, saw the first judge - Madame Maxime - raise her wand in the air. What hooked like a long silver ribbon shot out of it, which twisted itself into a large figure eight. “Not bad!” said Ron as the crowd applauded. “I suppose she took marks off for your shoulder…” Mr. Crouch came next. He shot a number nine into the air. “Looking good!” Ron yelled, thumping Harry on the back. Next, Dumbledore. He too put up a nine. The crowd was cheering harder than ever. Ludo Bagman - ten. “Ten?” said Harry in disbelief. “But…I got hurt.…What's he playing at?” “Harry, don't complain!” Ron yelled excitedly. And now Karkaroff raised his wand. He paused for a moment, and then a number shot out of his wand too - four. “What?” Ron bellowed furiously. “Four? You lousy, biased scum-bag, you gave Krum ten!” But Harry didn't care, he wouldn't have cared if Karkaroff had given him zero; Ron's indignation on his behalf was worth about a hundred points to him. He didn't tell Ron this, of course, but his heart felt lighter than air as he turned to leave the enclosure. And it wasn't just Ron…those weren't only Gryffindors cheering in the crowd. When it had come to it, when they had seen what he was facing, most of the school had been on his side as well as Cedric's.…He didn't care about the Slytherins, he could stand whatever they threw at him now. “You're tied in first place, Harry! You and Krum!” said Charlie Weasley, hurrying to meet them as they set off back toward the school. “Listen, I've got to run, I've got to go and send Mum an owl, I swore I'd tell her what happened - but that was unbelievable! Oh yeah - and they told me to tell you you've got to hang around for a few more minutes.…Bagman wants a word, back in the champions’ tent.” Ron said he would wait, so Harry reentered the tent, which somehow looked quite different now: friendly and welcoming. He thought back to how he'd felt while dodging the Horntail, and compared it to the long wait before he'd walked out to face it.…There was no comparison; the wait had been immeasurably worse. Fleur, Cedric, and Krum all came in together. One side of Cedric's face was covered in a thick orange paste, which was presumably mending his burn. He grinned at Harry when he saw him. “Good one, Harry.” “And you,” said Harry, grinning back. “Well done, all of you!” said Ludo Bagman, bouncing into the tent and looking as pleased as though he personally had just got past a dragon. “Now, just a quick few words. You've got a nice long break before the second task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth - but we're giving you something to think about in the meantime! If you look down at those golden eggs you're all holding, you will see that they open…see the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg - because it will tell you what the second task is, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well, off you go, then!” Harry left the tent, rejoined Ron, and they started to walk back around the edge of the forest, talking hard; Harry wanted to hear what the other champions had done in more detail. Then, as they rounded the clump of trees behind which Harry had first heard the dragons roar, a witch leapt out from behind them. It was Rita Skeeter. She was wearing acid-green robes today; the Quick-Quotes Quill in her hand blended perfectly against them. “Congratulations, Harry!” she said, beaming at him. “I wonder if you could give me a quick word? How you felt facing that dragon? How you feel now, about the fairness of the scoring?” “Yeah, you can have a word,” said Harry savagely. “Good-bye.” And he set off back to the castle with Ron. 第二十章 第一项任务 星期天早上哈利起床时，他精神根本集中不了，穿衣服的时候有一会儿他想把帽子而不是袜子套在脚上，自己却毫不察觉。好不容易终于穿戴整齐后就匆匆出门去找荷米恩。哈利在大会堂的格林芬顿桌那儿找到了她，她正和金妮一块吃早饭呢。哈利根本没心思吃饭，一等荷米恩舀完最后一勺粥，就拉着她到操场上去散步。在那里又一次沿湖而走时，哈利告诉了荷米恩所有有关龙的事情，还有西里斯所说的一切。 尽管西里斯关于卡克罗夫的警告引起了她的担心，荷米恩还是觉得龙的问题是目前最迫切的事情。 “我们得设法让你到周二晚上还能保住性命，”她绝望地说，“然后我们再来考虑卡克罗夫。” 他俩绕着湖走了三圈，想要找到一个能打败龙的咒语。可毫无头绪，于是他们又回到了图书馆。在图书馆里，哈利抽出每一本他能找到的关于龙的书，可那些书只把他引向再一次的搜索。 “‘魔爪被法力剪去，处理天平上的污秽’，这咒语一点用处也没有，它是给哈格力那样的疯子强身健体用的。” “龙很难被杀死，因为古老的魔法赋予了它们厚厚的皮肤，只有最厉害的咒语才可以刺穿。但西里斯明明说过用一个简单的咒语同样可以做到。” “那我们就找些容易点的魔法书吧。”哈利说，一边把《太爱龙的人》一书抛到一旁。 他捧着一摞魔法书回到桌前，放下书，开始一本本地翻查。荷米恩在他身侧小声喊着坚持，“哦，有交换术呀，可干嘛要交换呢？除非你想用它的翅膀换什么萄萄酒口香糖之类的东西，那样的话它就没那么危险了。问题是，就像这书上说的，没多少东西能穿透龙皮，我想得把龙变形，可那么大的龙，我怀疑甚至麦康娜教授也未必能行，要不你打算对自己施魔法？给自己增强力量？可那些魔法可不容易了，我是说，上课时从没有试过，我也是因为要做O.W.L的实习报告才知道这类法术的。” “荷米恩！”哈利从牙缝里挤出话说，“你能不能给我闭一会嘴？我要尽量集中精神。”但是荷米恩一不出声，哈利的大脑就绕满了一种单调的嗡嗡声，搅得他根本集中不了心思，他绝望地看着索引《放肆和愤怒者之基本魔法》中的即刻连发剥头皮术，可龙是没有头发的，那很可能会增加龙的火力呢；切除号角舌头术，这正是哈利需要的，可以算是额外武器。 “噢，不，他又回来了，他干嘛不能在自己的该死的船上看书呢？”荷米思恼火地说。这时维特·克伦低着头走进来，望了他俩一眼，就拿着一堆书坐在了远处一个角落，“走吧，哈利，我们回公共休息室去，他的那帮追随者很快就要杀到了，到时又吱吱喳喳的。” 真的，他俩刚起身，一帮女生就蹑手蹑脚地经过他们，其中一个还围了条保加利亚围巾在腰间。 哈利那晚几乎没合眼。当他早上醒来时，首先认真考虑的就是从霍格瓦彻逃跑掉。可当他吃早饭时环顾着大会堂，想着从城堡逃跑将意味着什么时，他知道自己做不到，这儿是他唯一获得快乐的地方，嗯，他想以前和父母在一起时他也一定是快乐的，只是他已记不得了。 不管怎么说，明白到自己宁愿呆在这里面对一条龙也不愿回普里怀特街和达德里在一起，这种认识使他感到有点镇定了。哈利困难地咽下腌肉（他喉咙痛得不得了）。他和荷米恩起身要离开时，看到塞德里克·迪格瑞也离开海夫巴夫桌。 塞德里克可还不知情呢，他是唯一不知道的勇士，如果哈利没猜错的话，玛西姆和卡克罗夫已经告诉了芙璐和克伦。 “荷米恩，你先走，我会去温房找你的，”哈利说，看着塞德里克离开会堂地做出了决定，“走吧，我会赶上你的。” “哈利，你会迟到的，铃很快就要响了——” “我会赶上去的，好吗？” 等哈利退到大理石楼梯底时，塞德里克已位于顶部了，周围围了一群六年级生。哈利可不想在他们面前和塞德里克讲话；那群家伙每次他一走近都会对他引用理特·史姬特的文章。哈利和塞德里克保持着一定距离，看到他正走向法术走廊。这可给了哈利一个主意。他站定脚步，拉出魔杖，仔细瞄准，喊了一声。 “迪芬多！” 塞德里克的口袋裂开了。羊皮纸、羽毛笔还有书跌出来，散落在地面。还有几瓶墨水打碎了。 “不麻烦你们了，我自个儿来就行，”塞德里克有点恼火地说，不让他的朋友们弯腰来帮他抬东西，“告诉菲利特威克我很快就来，去吧！” 这正是哈利所希望发生的，他把魔杖放回长袍，等到塞德里克的那帮朋友进了课堂不见了后快步走上去，走廊里只剩他和塞德里克。 “嗨！”塞德里克一边打招呼，一边拾起一本《高级变形术指南》，那书已被墨水溅湿，“我的口袋刚裂开了，全新的口袋啊。” “塞德里克。”哈利说，“第一项任务是龙！” “什么？”塞德里克说，他把头抬起来。 “龙！”哈利快速重复了一遍，以防菲利特威克教授出来看塞德里克在干什么。“共有四只，我们一人一支，而且我们必须通过那些龙！” 塞德里克盯着哈利看。在他眼中哈利看到了一些自己从周六晚上起就开始感到的惊慌。 “你肯定吗？”塞德里克用肃静的语调问。 “肯定到不能再肯定，”哈利答，“我见过它们。” “可你是怎么发现的？我们不应该知道。” “甭管了，”哈利马上说——他知道要说真话哈格力就会有麻烦。“我可不是唯一知道的。芙璐和克伦现在也都知道了——玛西姆和卡克罗夫也都见到了龙。” 塞德里克站起来，手臂上沾满了染了墨迹的羽毛笔、羊皮纸和书本，他那破了的口袋在肩膀上吊着。他又一次盯着哈利，眼中有一种困惑，甚至可说是怀疑的神色。 “你为什么告诉我？”他问。 哈利不相信地望着他。哈利肯定要是塞德里克自己看到那龙就一定不会这样问他。哈利可不愿要自己最差的敌人毫无准备地面对那些怪物。 “这只是，公平，不是吗？”他对塞德里克说，“我们现在都知道了，大家在同一起跑线，对吗？” 塞德里克还在有一点点怀疑地看着他，突然哈利听到身后一阵熟悉的撞击声。他转过身去，见到魔眼莫迪从附近一间课堂中走出。 “跟我来，波特？”他咆嗜着说，“迪格瑞，你走吧。” 哈利有点儿担心地看着莫迪，难道他听到他俩刚才的谈话？ “嗯——教授，我该去上草药学课——” “不必担心，来我办公室吧。” 哈利只好跟着他，纳闷这次不知什么要降临到自己身上。要是莫迪想知道他是怎么发现龙的事情呢？莫迪会不会去找丹伯多，惩罚哈格力，或干脆把他变成一只雪貂呢？哎，自己要是只雪貂要通过大龙还会容易点呢，哈利闷闷地想着，自己会小个得多，从五十尺高的地方往下看会难发现得多…… 他跟着莫迪进了办公室。莫迪关上了身后的门，转身望着哈利，他的魔法眼睛和另一只正常眼睛都定在哈利身上不动。 “波特，你刚做了件非常高尚的事。”莫迪静静地说。 哈利简直不知道如何作答，这完全不是他所预料的反应。 “坐吧！”莫迪又说。于是哈利坐下，看了看四周。 他曾在前两任这个办公室的所有者还在时来过这里。罗克哈特教授在的时候，墙上帖着教授自己微笑眨眼的照片。而露平在这儿住的时候，你更有可能碰上些教授新搞到手要在课堂上使用的迷人的黑暗生物。现在又不同了，办公室里所见皆是些稀奇古怪的物品，哈利推想莫迪该在自己是奥罗的日子里用过这些东西。 桌上摆着一个又大又有裂缝的、旋转的玻璃陀螺，哈利一眼就认出这是个史尼克，因为他自己也有一个，尽管比莫迪的要小得多。墙角的小桌上放着一个像是特别弯曲的、金色的电视天线一样东西，它还发出轻微的哼声。墙上正对着哈利的地方挂了一面像是镜子的东西，可是里面却没有房间的影像，有的只是影子般移来移去的几个图像，可是又没有一个是清楚显示的。 “你喜欢我的黑暗探测器，对吧？”莫迪说，他正仔细地看着哈利。 “那是什么？”莫迪指着曲折的金色天线问。 “秘密感应器。在探测到谎言和隐藏真相时就会颤动，当然在这儿毫无用处，有太多干扰了——每个方向都有学生在对为什么没完成作业而撒谎。所以从我来到这儿起就一直在嗡嗡叫。我也不得不关掉我的史尼克，因为它不停地在发出鸣声。它太敏感了，方圆一里以内的信号都接收得到。当然，它可以接收的东西不止是孩子们的小事。”他用那吼叫一样的声音补充道。 “那这镜子又是干嘛的？” “喔，那是我的敌人显示镜。看到他们在附近埋伏潜行吗？除非我在镜中见到他们的眼白部分，否则我是不会有什么大麻烦的。不过到那时我可得打开皮箱了！” 他发出一阵短促刺耳的笑声，一边指着窗下面的一个大皮箱。 那皮箱有一排七个钥匙孔。哈利寻思里面会有些什么，直到莫迪的问题把他迅即拉回到现实。 “那么，你是发现了龙喔？” 哈利犹豫着。他一直为这个担心——他没告诉塞德里克，更不打算告诉莫迪——哈格力打破了约定。 “没什么，”莫迪说，他坐下来，伸出他的木腿，呻吟了一声。 “作弊是三巫士比赛的一个传统部分，向来如此。” “我没有作弊，”哈利严厉地说，“那只是——很意外的情形下我才发现的。” 莫迪咧嘴笑了。“我并没有怪你，小害羞。我一开始就跟丹伯多说过，他尽可以照自己喜欢的方式保持正大光明，但老卡克罗夫和玛西姆可不会那么崇高。他们会告诉自己的勇士一切。他们只想着赢。他们想打败丹伯多，要证明他不过是个凡人。” 莫迪又刺耳地笑着，他的魔眼转得飞快，看得哈利很不舒服。 “那么，你想好了怎样通过龙的法子没？”莫迪问。 “没有。”哈利答。 “啊，我可不打算教你。”莫迪粗暴地说，“我不偏心，我不。我只打算给你一些好的，概括的建议。第一点就是——运用你的力量。” “我什么力量也没有啊。”哈利脱口而出，想要往口却已说完了。 “不对，”莫迪咆哮着，“我说你有力量你就有，现在想吧，你最擅长什么？” 哈利努力集中精神。最擅长的？哦，那容易，真的——“快迪斯！”他迟疑地答道：“还有很多——” “那就对了，”莫迪说，他死死地盯住哈利，魔法眼一动也不动，“我听说，你是一个棒极了的飞行家？” “嗯，对，可……”哈利回瞪着他，“我没获准使用扫帚，我只有魔杖——” “我的第二条忠告，”莫迪大声打断他，“是用一个管用的，简单的咒语来帮助你得到你需要的东西。” 哈利呆呆地看着他，自己需要什么呢？ “孩子，想想。”莫迪低声说，“把所有的东西放到一起，不难想到的。” 忽然哈利灵机一动想到了。他最擅于飞行，他得在空中穿过龙的守卫。于是，他需要他的霹雳帚。而为了霹雳帚，他需要——“荷米恩。”哈利轻声说出。十分钟后他冲入三号温房，跑过史伯特教授身边时匆匆道了歉，“荷米恩，我需要你的帮助。” “你以为我一直在设法做的是什么，哈利？”她小声反问道。越过她正修剪的摇曳着的飞特柏灌木顶端，是她流露出不满的眼光。 “荷米恩，我得在明天下午以前学会正确地使用召唤术。” 于是他们开始练习。他们没有吃午饭，径直去了一间空教室，在那儿哈利尽力让房间里的各种物体飞向他。但还有点困难，不够熟练。那些练习的书本和羽毛笔在空中飞到一半往往就失去重心，像石头一般跌落地面。 “集中注意力，哈利，得集中。” “我不是一直在尽量集中吗？”哈利生气地说，“可不知怎的，一头又脏又大的龙不停在我脑海浮现，好吧，再来一次。” 哈利想逃掉占卜课继续练习，可是荷米恩不想因为不上课而失分，而没有她陪同练习就没有意义。所以哈利不得不花一个多小时听特雷络尼教授在那儿用半节课公告大家现在火星与土星的位置关系意味着七月份出生的人将处于突然、暴力死亡的巨大危险之中。 “啊，那挺好。”哈利大声说，有点儿发脾气，“死也没什么，只要别弄太久，我可不想活受罪。” 罗恩看过来一会儿，好像有点忍俊不禁，这么些天来他第一次引起了哈利的注意，可哈利心里对罗恩还是太忿恨了，所以没在意他。剩下的半节课哈利在课桌底下练习用魔杖吸引小物件到周围。 他成功地让一只苍蝇直直地撞到他手里，可他还是不能完全确定那是否出于他唤物术的威力——还是这头苍蝇太笨了。 占卜课后哈利逼自己吃了点晚饭，然后和荷米恩回到空课室，沿路穿着隐身袍避开了老师。他们一直练习直到过了午夜，本可以再待久点，可是皮维斯出现了，而且假装以为哈利要让物体飞向自己，皮维斯开始在房间里扔椅子。哈利和荷米恩只得在吵声引来弗尔克之前匆匆离开，又回到格林芬顿普通房，那儿幸亏没人。 凌晨两点，哈利站在火神旁，周围是成堆东西——书啦，羽毛笔啦，几张翻转的椅子啦，一套旧的哥伯石啦，还有尼维尔的蟾蜍啦。只有到了最后时刻哈利才真正掌握了召唤术的诀窍。 “那好多了，哈利。”荷米恩看起来挺累，但很满意。 “好，现在我们明白下次我学不好一个咒语时该怎么办了，”哈利说。他扔回给荷米恩一本魔法字典以便再练习一遍，“用一头龙来危胁我！”他再一次举起魔咒，念着，‘阿西欧字典！“’那本重书咆哮着飞出荷米思的双手，穿过房间，被哈利抓在手中。 “哈利，我想你真的学会了！”荷米恩高兴地说。 “但愿明天管用。”哈利说。“霹雳帚到时可比这房里的东西远得多，它会在城堡里，而我会在城堡外面的操场里。” “那没关系，”荷米恩坚定地说。“只要你真真正正、全神贯注，就可以唤来。哈利，我们最好回去睡了，你需要睡眠。” 那晚哈利是那么认真地学习唤物术，以致于把部分盲目的恐慌抛于脑后。然而，在次日早晨，那惊慌又重新卷土而来。校园里的气氛紧张而又刺激。课只上半天，下午所有的学生都有时间去看哈利等人的出场表演——尽管目前他们还不知道他们等待的是什么。 不管周围的人是祝他好运，还是在他经过时不满地发出嘘声“我们会准备好一箱抢救纱布的，波特”，哈利都觉得分外的孤单。 这紧张感是那么强烈，他怀疑自己在被领去见龙时会不会失去控制，大声的咒骂见到的每一个人。 时间好似以前从未有的方式行进，一块块地飞逝，前一分钟他还坐在第一节课魔法历史的课堂里，下一分钟他就是走去吃午餐，再然后（上午是怎么度过的？没见大龙前的最后几小时上哪儿去了？）麦康娜教授正在大会堂里向他匆匆走来。周围很多人都看到了。 “波特，勇士们现在就要下到操场了，你得为第一项任务作准备。” “好的，”哈利答道。他站起身，吃着的猪肉啪的一声掉回碟子里。 “祝你走运，哈利，”荷米恩再语道，“你会做到的！” “对！”哈利说，可他说话的声音却一点也不像平时。 他和麦康娜教授离开了大会堂。她也显得很不自在，事实上，她看起来和荷米恩一样紧张。她和哈利走下石阶，正要进入那个寒冷的十一月午后的操场时，她把手放在他的肩上。 “现在，不要慌张，”她说，“保持头脑冷静，万一情况失控我们也会有巫师控制局面，主要的是要尽力做到最好你的，没有人会看低你的，你还好吧？” “是，”哈利听到自己说，“是的，我还好。” 她领着他走向龙的藏身之地，沿着森林的边缘，但是当他们接近围墙的树丛时，哈利见到一座新搭起的帐篷，它的人口正对着他们，遮住了龙。 “你和其他勇士从这里进去，”麦康娜教授用近乎颤抖的声音说，“然后等着轮到你时，巴格蒙先生也会在里面，他会告诉你，告诉你程序，祝你好运。” “谢谢，”哈利说，声音扁平而又冷淡。她在帐篷入口处离开。 哈利进了去。维特·克伦显得比平时更傲慢，哈利倒觉得那是他紧张的方式。塞德里克来回地踱步，哈利进去时，塞德里克对他笑了笑，哈利回以一笑，可觉得塞德里克脸上的肌肉十分僵硬，仿佛已忘了该如何作笑容状。 “哈利！噢，好了！”巴格蒙高兴地说，上下打量着他，“进来进来，就像在自个儿家里一样！” 巴格蒙站在这群全都脸色发白的勇士中间，有点像是个块头过大的卡通人物。他又穿起了他那旧黄蜂袍。 “好了，现在人都到齐了——是时候开始了！”巴格蒙轻快地说：“等观众到齐后，我就把这袋子拿到你们面前，”——他举起一个小紫色小丝袋，向他们四个晃了晃——“从袋子里面你们要选出一个模型，那就是你们待会要面对的敌人！每个人的都不一样——嗯——你们知道，得有花样。并且我还得告诉你们点什么别的。啊，对了，你们的任务是要取得金蛋！” 哈利瞥了一下旁边。塞德里克点了一次头，表明听懂了巴格蒙的话，然后又开始绕着帐篷踱步；他看起来脸色有点发青。芙璐·迪米高和克伦根本就没有反应。可能他们想如果开口的话他们就会不适，那也是哈利的感觉。但他们至少，是自愿这样…… 没一会儿功夫，就听到数百次脚步声经过帐篷，那些人兴奋地谈着、笑着、闹着，只有一帐之隔，可是觉得与那群人极为遥远，仿佛他们是另一个生物种类一般。接着——对哈利而言好像只过了一秒——巴格蒙打开了小紫丝袋的袋口。 “女士优先，”他说，把袋子递到芙璐·迪来高面前。 她颤抖着手进袋，摸出了一个小巧的，完美的龙的模型——一只威尔士绿龙，它的脖子上围着个号码。于是哈利知道自己猜对了：玛西姆女士早已告诉了她要面对的事物。因为芙璐·迪来高并不吃惊，倒是有种听天由命的神情。 克伦的反应也不出所料地证明哈利又对了。他抽出的是猩红的中国火龙，有一个号码3在颈上。他眼都没眨，只是盯着地面。 塞德里克伸手入袋，摸出了一只蓝灰色的瑞典短鼻龙，号码是1，知道只剩下一个4。哈利把手放入丝袋，拿出一只匈牙利号尾龙，不用说号码是4，哈利向下看着它时，它报以伸出的双翅和小小尖牙。 “好了，你们都有了！”巴格蒙说，“每个人都抽出了要面对的龙，而号码就是指你们要斗龙的顺序，明白吗？现在我会出去，留些时间给你们，我要出去解说一下。迪格瑞先生，你是第一个，听到口哨声时走出帐篷去围墙里面，好吗？现在，哈利，我能和你讲两句话吗？到外边来。” “嗯，好的。”哈利呆呆地说，他起身，跟着巴格蒙走出帐篷，走了一小段路来到树林。巴格蒙转身向他，脸上有种父亲般关怀的神色。 “你觉得好吗，哈利？有什么我能帮你吗？” “什么？”哈利说。“我——不，不用了。” “想好对策了吗？”巴格蒙又说，像是同谋者一样压低声音。 “因为我可不介意分享一点小意思，如果你需要的话，你知道。我是说，”巴格蒙接着说，声音压得更低，“你是这里处于下风的人，要有什么我能帮得上忙的话尽管说。” “不用，”哈利，拒绝都快到自己都觉得太没礼貌，“不用了——我——我已决定了要怎么做了，谢谢。” “没有人会知道的，哈利。”巴格蒙说，向他眨着眼。 “不，我自己就行，”哈利，不知道为什么自己会不停地告诉别人自己可以，难道以前他显出过不行吗？“我已经想好了一个计划，我——” 某处传来了口哨声。 “天啊，我可得跑了！”巴格蒙慌张地说完，急急忙忙走了。 哈利走回帐篷，看见塞德里克从里面走出，脸色比以往任何时候都青。哈利在他经过时想祝他好远，但是从哈利口中冒出的更像是一阵沙哑的咕噜声。 哈利回去里面和芙璐和克伦在一起。几秒钟后，他们听到了人群的吼叫声，那表示塞德里克已进入了围墙，正面对面地看着他模型的实物原型。 情况比哈利所想象过的还要糟糕，光是坐着和听着。群众的尖叫声，欢呼声，喘气声表明塞德里克正施展浑身解数要通过瑞典短鼻龙。克伦还在看地面。芙璐现在像塞德里克先前那样绕着帐篷踱步。而巴格蒙的话使得一切都变得更糟更坏，在哈利的脑海中形成恐怖的画面，他听到吼声：“哦，那儿差了一点就行，就那么一点！”“他这是玩命呀，这一次！”“闪得漂亮——可惜没成功！” 十五分钟过去了。哈利听到震耳欲聋的响声，那只能意味着：塞德里克已经通过了他的龙，取得了金蛋。 “很好！”巴格蒙喊道，“现在评委亮分！” 但是他没喊出分数，哈利假想着评委把分数牌举起，亮给观众看。 “一位完成了，还有三位！”巴格蒙又喊着，口哨再次响起。 “迪米高小姐，请！” 芙璐从头到脚都在发抖。当她昂着头、紧握住魔杖步出帐时哈利感到从未象那一刻一样对她那么有亲切感。只剩他和克伦在帐里的对面，互相躲避着对方的注视。 同样的程序又开始了。“哦，我觉得那可不一定明智！”他们可以听到巴格蒙快乐地喊叫着，“哦，差一点！现在小心了，天啊，我还以为她会拿到蛋呢！” 十分钟后，哈利听到人群又一次爆发出掌声，芙略一定也成功了。声音停止了，该是在亮芙璐的分，更多的拍掌，然后，第三次听到了，口哨声。 “以下要出场的是克伦先生！”巴格蒙喊道，克伦垂着头出去了，只剩哈利独个儿了。 他比平日更清楚地感受到身体的各部分：清楚地意识到他的心跳得很快，他的手指因恐惧而觉得刺痛，而与此同时，他又觉得自己灵魂已出离，好像从很遥远处看着帐篷外的墙，听着人群的喧嚣。 “非常勇敢！”巴格蒙又在欢呼了。哈利听到中国火龙发出一声恐怖的轰隆响的尖叫，观众都屏住了呼吸。“那可真正显出了他的胆量——而且——太好了，他拿到金蛋了！” 掌声像打碎玻璃一样打破了寒冬的空气，克伦也完成了——随时都会轮到哈利了。 他站起来，隐隐发觉双腿好像是用沼泽里的草做的。他在那等着，跟着听到了哨声。他走出帐口，内心的惊慌就像渐强音一样越来越大。现在他正穿越树林，穿过一个围栏上的缺口。 他所看到的一切仿佛是一个极高色彩度的梦。自从他一踏进这块地方，成百上千张脸孔就从魔法变出的看台上向下望着他。还有那只号角尾龙，在围栏的另一端，蹲下身来看护着她的蛋，她的双翼半张着，她那邪恶的、泛黄的双眼打量着哈利，这只巨大的全身磷片的黑惭蝎，挥打着她的钉状尾巴，在硬地上留下长达一码的孔印。观众席上发出巨大的响声，但不管是否出于友善，哈利已经不知道也不在意了。是时候做他得干的事了。要集中精神，完完全全绝对地贯注于那样物体。 他举起了魔杖。 “阿西欧霹雳帚！”他大喊。 他等着，全身的每一根神经维都在盼望着，祈祷着。要是这法子不奏效，要是那霹雳帚不来……他好像在透过一种发光的透明的屏障，比如一阵热雾，来看身边的一切，而这道屏障使得围栏以及那数百张脸奇怪地在他周围浮游着。 然后他听到那东西正快速向他身后飞来，他转身看到他的霹雳帚在树林边碰撞而来，呼啸着进入围栏内，在他身旁半空中打住，听候他的差遣。人群更为吵闹了。巴格蒙也在喊着些什么，但哈利的耳朵不再正常工作了，听觉并不重要了。 他跨腿上帚，从地面一踢，一秒钟后，不可思议的事情发生了。 他拔地而起，直冲云霄，风呼呼地吹过发际，观众的脸变成下方极小的肉色钟孔，而那号尾龙缩小到了狗的大小，他意识到自己不仅已升离地面，更已抛离恐惧，回到了真正属于自己的地方。 这只是另一个快迪斯比赛罢了，仅此而已。另一场快迪斯比赛，而那龙仅是另一支丑陋的敌队罢了。 他俯望那一窝蛋，认出那金色的一只。金蛋发出与其他银灰色同伴不同的光亮，稳稳地放在龙的前腿之间。“好！”哈利对自己说，“用声东击西策略，我们走。” 他向下俯冲。号尾龙的脑蛋紧跟不放。他知道那畜牲想干什么，及时抽身而退，一道火焰喷向了他若不闪避就会到达的位置，好险，可哈利不怕，那不比闪避一只鹰难多少。 “伟大的苏格兰，他能飞呢！”巴格蒙激动大叫，群众尖叫着，喘着气。“你在观看吗，克伦先生？” 哈利旋转着上升，号尾龙还在紧追不舍，它长长的脖子像麻花一样扭了又扭——如果哈利继续下去，那龙肯定会头晕的——但最好别逗它太久，否则它又会喷火了——哈利在龙口再次张大时陡直下降，但这次他没那么走运——虽然避开了火焰，却撞上了龙尾的鞭打，他闪向左边时，一根长钉擦过他的肩膀，撕裂了他的长袍——他感到了刺痛，听到了人群的尖叫和呻吟，可那伤口好像并不深。现在他绕升到龙的背部，看到了一个机会。 号尾龙并不想起飞，她太强烈地想保护她的蛋了。尽管她缠绕着，扭曲着身体，展开又合拢双翼，那双令人生惧的黄眼睛始终没离开过哈利身上，她还是害怕距离她的蛋太远，但他必须说服地走开，否则他就永远没机会靠近那些蛋。关键是要小心行事，慢慢引诱。 他开始一会儿往这边飞，一会儿往那边飞，保持在龙喷火范围以外，但又能构成足够的威胁使龙眼注视着他。她的头摇来摆去，直直地从瞳孔里盯住哈利，她的尖牙咧露。 他飞得更高。龙头随之升高，龙颈现在已升到最长，还在摇来摇去，就像一头在法师面前的蛇。 哈利又升高见英尺，龙发出一阵怒吼。哈利就像一只苍蝇，烦得她要开杀戒，龙尾又开始挥打了，又因为哈利太高了够不着，她向空中喷火，可被—一躲开。 “来吧，”哈利嘶嘶叫道，在她头上挑逗地闪来避去，“来吧，上来抓我呀，现在你上来呀。” 终于她站了起来，展开她巨大的黑皮双翅，有一架小型飞机那么宽——哈利俯冲而下。在那龙弄明白他做了什么，在找到他去了哪儿之前，哈利以最快速度冲向地面，飞向现在失去了母龙前爪保护的蛋——他松手不再握住霹雷帚——他终于抓住了金蛋——再伴以一阵冲刺，哈利迅速离开。他大叫着飞越看台，那沉重的蛋安安稳稳地在他受伤的臂下，这时就仿佛有人刚把音量打开一样——他第一次，清楚地听到了人群的吵闹声，各种尖叫声喝彩声，就像世界杯赛上的爱尔兰支持者一样响亮不停。 “看啊！”巴格蒙喊道。“请看！我们最年轻的勇士最快地取到了金蛋！啊，这可要把波特先生的奇怪举动大为降低了！” 哈利见到龙的看守者冲去安抚号尾龙，还有，在围栏的出口那边，麦康娜教授，莫迪教授还有哈格力都急步上前与他会合，他们全都在招手，脸上的笑容隔了那么远也清晰可见。他又飞回看台，那儿的吵声几乎把他耳膜震穿，他平滑地着陆，心情是数周来最为轻松的，他通过了第一项任务，他活了下来。 “十分出色，波特！”当哈利跨下霹雳帚时麦康娜教授喊道——这对她来说可是相当之高的评价了。哈利还注意到她的手在发抖，“你得在评委亮分前先去波姆弗雷女士那儿看伤势。就在那边，她已经治好了迪格瑞了。” “干得好哇，哈利！”哈格力沙哑着说。“就是干得妙！打败那号角尾龙和别的一切东西，你也知道查理说那母龙可是最难对付——” “谢谢，哈格力。”哈利大声说，好让哈格力别再喋喋不休，以致把他给哈利事先见过真龙的事给泄露出来。 莫迪教授也显得相当满意，他的魔眼快活地转着。 “干得即简洁又漂亮，波特。”他低吼道。 “好了，波特，该去急救帐了，快。”麦康娜教授说。 哈利走出围栏，还在端着，就看到波姆弗雷女士站在另一座帐篷门口，看起来忧心忡忡。 “龙！”她说了一个字，语气很反感，一边拉着哈利入帐。帐内隔成两个小间，透过帆布哈利认出了塞德里克的身影，他好像没受什么重伤，至少还能坐着。波姆弗雷女上检查了他的伤一直不停地愤怒地说：“去年是狂兽，今年是大龙，他们接着还要把什么带进学校呀？你是十分走运了，这只是皮肉伤，可我治疗前还是得清洗一下。” 她用一些紫色的药水轻拍着伤口，那液体碰到伤口后冒烟还伴有刺痛感，可后来帕弗雷女士用她的魔杖戳了戳哈利的伤口，于是哈利马上觉得全好了。 “现在，就给我乖乖地坐一分钟——光坐着！然后你才可以离开去听分数。” 她急急走出这边帐篷，接着哈利听到她走到隔壁间，“现在觉得怎样，迪格瑞？” 哈利可不想就这么坐着，他体内的肾上腺素还多着呢。他站起来，想出去看看外边怎么样了，可还没等他走到帐篷门口，两个人已急冲进来了——荷米恩，还有紧随其后的罗恩。 “哈利，你太出色了！”荷米恩尖叫着说。她脸上有指甲的印子，因为她害怕时紧紧地捂住脸。“你太令人惊讶了，真的！” 可哈利只看着罗恩，罗恩脸色苍白，像是看鬼一样看着哈利。 “哈利，”他十分严肃地说，“无论谁把你的名字放入高脚杯中——我——我想他们是想让你参赛！” 过去几周的事好像从未发生过——好像哈利现在是第一次见到罗恩，就在他被选为勇士之后。 “你赶上来了，是吧？”哈利冷冷地说，“花了你够长时间的。” 荷米恩在他俩中间紧张地站着，看看这个又看看那个。罗恩欲言又止。哈利知道他想要道歉，而突然间，发现自己根本不想听。 “没事的，”哈利说，拦住了罗恩要说的话。“算了吧。” “不，”罗恩说，“我早就该——” “过去的事就过去吧。”哈利说。 罗恩神经质地笑笑，哈利也回以一笑。 荷米恩眼泪都流出来了。 “有什么值得哭的！”哈利困惑地对她说。 “你们两个可真傻！”荷米恩喊道，跺着脚，眼泪啪啪直往下掉。然后，在两个男孩中的任何一个可止阻止她前，荷米恩分别拥抱了他们后就跑开了，绝对是号啕大哭。 “在喊了，”罗恩说，摇着脑袋。“快走，哈利，他们要亮你的分数了。” 拾起金蛋和霹雳帚，哈利觉得自己开心极了，绝对是一个小时前想象不到的高兴，他弯腰出帐快速离开，罗恩就在他旁边，两人边疾走边谈。 “你是最好的，你知道吗，毫无疑问。塞德里克干得极为古怪，他把场上的一块石头变形，变成了一只狗。想让那龙攻击那狗而不攻击他。嗯，那变形术还真不赖，也有点行得通，因为他还是拿到蛋了，但也烧伤了身子——那龙半途中改变主意决定攻击他而放弃那条狗，塞德里克勉强躲开了保命。而那个叫芙璐的女孩也试图用这种法术，我看她是想让那龙走神发呆——嗯，那也可说是奏效了，那龙昏沉沉的，然后它打起了鼾，接着一束火焰激射而出，女孩的裙子着了火——她得用魔杖变出水来救火。还有克伦——你可能不信，可他压根儿没想过要飞！他用一种法术正正击中了龙眼珠子。只不过，那龙痛得到处践踏时打碎了半数的蛋——他们要为这扣他的分，因为他是不该损伤到蛋的。” 罗恩和哈利到达围栏边时罗恩深吸一口气。现在号角尾龙已被领走，哈利可以看见五位评委坐在那里——在另一端端坐在金布垂吊着的高椅中。 “每个人都是十分制，”罗恩说，而哈利斜瞥了场中一眼，见到了第一位评委——玛西姆夫人——在空中举起她的魔杖。一段长长的，银色丝带状物体喷射而出，在空中扭成一个8字。 “不赖！”罗恩说，观众也在鼓掌。“我看她从你的肩伤扣了点分。” 克劳斯先生接着亮分，把一个数字9射入空中。 “形势看好！”罗恩叫着，重重地拍着哈利的背部。 下来的，是丹伯多，他也同样给了9分。人群的喝彩声高于以往任何时候。 露得·巴格蒙了——10分。 “10分？”哈利不敢相信。“可是，我受伤了耶，他在玩什么呀？” “哈利，别抱怨了！”罗恩兴奋地大叫。 现在卡克罗夫举起了魔杖。他停顿了一会儿，然后也同样射出了一个数字——4。 “什么？”罗恩愤怒地大叫。“只有4分，你这个偏心贱格的人渣，你可给了克伦10分！” 可哈利一点也不在乎，哪怕卡克罗夫给他零分他也不在乎，罗恩为他而感到的愤慨本身就值100分了。当然他没告诉罗恩这点，可当他转身离开围栏时他的心情轻松无比。而且不仅仅是罗恩，也不仅是格林芬顿刚才在人群中为他加油。那种场合下，当大家意识到他所面对的困难时，大部分的学生都站在他这边，塞德里克也帮他，他不再介意史林德林了，他现在可以挺住他们任何的攻击了。 “哈利！你们两个，你和克伦，打了平手！”查理·威斯里在他俩离开动身回校时急忙走上前去对他们说。“听着，我可得跑了，我得去送走玛姆和猫头鹰，我发过警要告诉她发生的一切——那太不可思议了！哦，对了——他们让我告诉你再多等几分钟。巴格蒙想和你说几句话，回勇士帐里谈。” 罗恩说他可以等一下，于是哈利又折回到帐内，现在这帐可显得大不一样了：充满友好、欢迎的气氛。他回想起闪避那龙时的感受，再对比未出帐前那漫长的等待，根本就是天壤之别。那等待实在是说不出的糟糕。 芙璐，塞德里克和克伦全都来了。 塞德里克的半边脸上敷着厚厚一层桔子糊，想必是用来治他的伤口的。他见到哈利时咧嘴笑笑。“好样的，哈利。” “你也是。”哈利也笑了。 “你们都干得很好！”露得·巴格蒙说着进了帐，看起来快活得就像他自己越过了一条龙。“现在简短讲两句。你们在第二项任务前有一段很长又很好的休息，它将在二月二十五号的早上九点半进行——可这段时间我们也是有东西考考你们脑袋瓜子的！你们要是看看手中的金蛋，就会看到它们裂开了，见到里面的铁链了吗？你们得破解蛋内的暗示——因为暗示将告诉你们第二项任务是什么，并帮助你们去作准备！都清楚了吗？确定吗？好了，你们可以走了！” 哈利离开帐篷，又和罗恩在一起。他们开始往回绕着树林边走边热烈地讨论著。哈利想再细致地听别的勇士是怎么完成任务的。 然后，正当他们绕过哈利第一次听见龙吟时藏身的树丛处时，一个女巫从他俩身后蹦出。 原来是理特·史姬特。她今天穿的是暗绿色袍子。 “祝贺你，哈利！”她向哈利微笑着说。“你能和我说上几句吗？你面对大龙的感觉是怎样的？你现在对评分的公正程度又感觉如何呢？” “好吧，可以和你谈一个词。”哈利野蛮地说，“再见。” 于是他和罗恩并肩走回城堡。 |
Chapter 19 The Hungarian Horntail The prospect of talking face-to-face with Sirius was all that sustained Harry over the next fortnight, the only bright spot on a horizon that had never looked darker. The shock of finding himself school champion had worn off slightly now, and the fear of what was facing him had started to sink in. The first task was drawing steadily nearer; he felt as though it were crouching ahead of him hike some horrific monster, barring his path. He had never suffered nerves like these; they were way beyond anything he had experienced before a Quidditch match, not even his last one against Slytherin, which had decided who would win the Quidditch Cup. Harry was finding it hard to think about the future at all; he felt as though his whole life had been heading up to, and would finish with, the first task.… Admittedly, he didn't see how Sirius was going to make him feel any better about having to perform an unknown piece of difficult and dangerous magic in front of hundreds of people, but the mere sight of a friendly face would be something at the moment. Harry wrote back to Sirius saying that he would be beside the common room fire at the time Sirius had suggested; and he and Hermione spent a long time going over plans for forcing any stragglers out of the common room on the night in question. If the worst came to the worst, they were going to drop a bag of Dungbombs, but they hoped they wouldn't have to resort to that - Filch would skin them alive. In the meantime, life became even worse for Harry within the confines of the castle, for Rita Skeeter had published her piece about the Triwizard Tournament, and it had turned out to be not so much a report on the tournament as a highly colored life story of Harry. Much of the front page had been given over to a picture of Harry; the article (continuing on pages two, six, and seven) had been all about Harry, the names of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champions (misspelled) had been squashed into the last line of the article, and Cedric hadn't been mentioned at all. The article had appeared ten days ago, and Harry still got a sick, burning feeling of shame in his stomach every time he thought about it. Rita Skeeter had reported him saying an awful lot of things that he couldn't remember ever saying in his life, let alone in that broom cupboard. * * * * * * I suppose I get my strength from my parents. I know they'd be very proud of me if they could see me now….Yes, sometimes at night I still cry about them, I'm not ashamed to admit it.…I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament, because they're watching over me… But Rita Skeeter had gone even further than transforming his “er's” into long, sickly sentences: She had interviewed other people about him too. Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. His close friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school. From the moment the article had appeared, Harry had had to endure people -Slytherins, mainly - quoting it at him as he passed and making sneering comments. “Want a hanky, Potter, in case you start crying in Transfiguration?” “Since when have you been one of the top students in the school, Potter? Or is this a school you and Longbottom have set up together?” “Hey - Harry!” “Yeah, that's right!” Harry found himself shouting as he wheeled around in the corridor, having had just about enough. “I've just been crying my eyes out over my dead mum, and I'm just off to do a bit more…” “No - it was just - you dropped your quill.” It was Cho. Harry felt the color rising in his face. “Oh - right - sorry,” he muttered, taking the quill back. “Er…good luck on Tuesday,” she said. “I really hope you do well.” Which left Harry feeling extremely stupid. Hermione had come in for her fair share of unpleasantness too, but she hadn't yet started yelling at innocent bystanders; in fact, Harry was full of admiration for the way she was handling the situation. “Stunningly pretty? Her?” Pansy Parkinson had shrieked the first time she had come face-to-face with Hermione after Rita's article had appeared. “What was she judging against - a chipmunk?” “Ignore it,” Hermione said in a dignified voice, holding her head in the air and stalking past the sniggering Slytherin girls as though she couldn't hear them. “Just ignore it, Harry.” But Harry couldn't ignore it. Ron hadn't spoken to him at all since he had told him about Snape's detentions. Harry had half hoped they would make things up during the two hours they were forced to pickle rats’ brains in Snape's dungeon, but that had been the day Rita's article had appeared, which seemed to have confirmed Ron's belief that Harry was really enjoying all the attention. Hermione was furious with the pair of them; she went from one to the other, trying to force them to talk to each other, but Harry was adamant: He would talk to Ron again only if Ron admitted that Harry hadn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire and apologized for calling him a liar. “I didn't start this,” Harry said stubbornly. “It's his problem.” “You miss him!” Hermione said impatiently. “And I know he misses you -” “Miss him?” said Harry. “I don't miss him…” But this was a downright lie. Harry liked Hermione very much, but she just wasn't the same as Ron. There was much hess laughter and a lot more hanging around in the library when Hermione was your best friend. Harry still hadn't mastered Summoning Charms, he seemed to have developed something of a block about them, and Hermione insisted that learning the theory would help. They consequently spent a lot of time poring over books during their lunchtimes. Viktor Krum was in the library an awful lot too, and Harry wondered what he was up to. Was he studying, or was he looking for things to help him through the first task? Hermione often complained about Krum being there - not that he ever bothered them - but because groups of giggling girls often turned up to spy on him from behind bookshelves, and Hermione found the noise distracting. “He's not even good-looking!” she muttered angrily, glaring at Krum's sharp profile. “They only like him because he's famous! They wouldn't look twice at him if he couldn't do that Wonky-Faint thing -” “Wronski Feint,” said Harry, through gritted teeth. Quite apart from liking to get Quidditch terms correct, it caused him another pang to imagine Ron's expression if he could have heard Hermione talking about Wonky-Faints. * * * * * * It is a strange thing, but when you are dreading something, and would give anything to slow down time, it has a disobliging habit of speeding up. The days until the first task seemed to slip by as though someone had fixed the clocks to work at double speed. Harry's feeling of barely controlled panic was with him wherever he went, as everpresent as the snide comments about the Daily Prophet article. On the Saturday before the first task, all students in the third year and above were permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade. Hermione told Harry that it would do him good to get away from the castle for a bit, and Harry didn't need much persuasion. “What about Ron, though?” he said. “Don't you want to go with him?” “Oh…well…"Hermione went slightly pink. “I thought we might meet up with him in the Three Broomsticks.…” “No,” said Harry flatly. “Oh Harry, this is so stupid -” “I'll come, but I'm not meeting Ron, and I'm wearing my Invisibility Cloak.” “Oh all right then…” Hermione snapped, “but I hate talking to you in that cloak, I never know if I'm looking at you or not.” So Harry put on his Invisibility Cloak in the dormitory, went back downstairs, and together he and Hermione set off for Hogsmeade. Harry felt wonderfully free under the cloak; he watched other students walking past them as they entered the village, most of them sporting Support Cedric Diggory! badges, but no horrible remarks came his way for a change, and nobody was quoting that stupid article. “People keep looking at me now,” said Hermione grumpily as they came out of Honeydukes Sweetshop later, eating large cream-filled chocolates. “They think I'm talking to myself.” “Don't move your lips so much then.” “Come on, please just take off your cloak for a bit, no one's going to bother you here.” “Oh yeah?” said Harry. “Look behind you.” Rita Skeeter and her photographer friend had just emerged from the Three Broomsticks pub. Talking in low voices, they passed right by Hermione without hooking at her. Harry backed into the wall of Honeydukes to stop Rita Skeeter from hitting him with her crocodile-skin handbag. When they were gone, Harry said, “She's staying in the village. I bet she's coming to watch the first task.” As he said it, his stomach flooded with a wave of molten panic. He didn't mention this; he and Hermione hadn't discussed what was coming in the first task much; he had the feeling she didn't want to think about it. “She's gone,” said Hermione, looking right through Harry toward the end of the street. “Why don't we go and have a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks, it's a bit cold, isn't it? You don't have to talk to Ron!” she added irritably, correctly interpreting his silence. The Three Broomsticks was packed, mainly with Hogwarts students enjoying their free afternoon, but also with a variety of magical people Harry rarely saw anywhere else. Harry supposed that as Hogsmeade was the only all-wizard village in Britain, it was a bit of a haven for creatures like hags, who were not as adept as wizards at disguising themselves. It was very hard to move through crowds in the Invisibility Cloak, in case you accidentally trod on someone, which tended to lead to awkward questions. Harry edged slowly toward a spare table in the corner while Hermione went to buy drinks. On his way through the pub, Harry spotted Ron, who was sitting with Fred, George, and Lee Jordan. Resisting the urge to give Ron a good hard poke in the back of the head, he finally reached the table and sat down at it. Hermione joined him a moment later and slipped him a butterbeer under his cloak. “I look like such an idiot, sitting here on my own,” she muttered. “Lucky I brought something to do.” And she pulled out a notebook in which she had been keeping a record of S.P.E.W. members. Harry saw his and Ron's names at the top of the very short list. It seemed a long time ago that they had sat making up those predictions together, and Hermione had turned up and appointed them secretary and treasurer. “You know, maybe I should try and get some of the villagers involved in S.P.E.W.,” Hermione said thoughtfully, looking around the pub. “Yeah, right,” said Harry. He took a swig of butterbeer under his cloak. “Hermione, when are you going to give up on this spew stuff?” “When house-elves have decent wages and working conditions!” she hissed back. “You know, I'm starting to think it's time for more direct action. I wonder how you get into the school kitchens?” “No idea, ask Fred and George,” said Harry. Hermione lapsed into thoughtful silence, while Harry drank his butterbeer, watching the people in the pub. All of them looked cheerful and relaxed. Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbot were swapping Chocolate Frog cards at a nearby table; both of them sporting Support Cedric Diggory! badges on their cloaks. Right over by the door he saw Cho and a large group of her Ravenclaw friends. She wasn't wearing a Cedric badge though.…This cheered up Harry very slightly.… What wouldn't he have given to be one of these people, sitting around laughing and talking, with nothing to worry about but homework? He imagined how it would have felt to be here if his name hadn't come out of the Goblet of Fire. He wouldn't be wearing the Invisibility Cloak, for one thing. Ron would be sitting with him. The three of them would probably be happily imagining what deadly dangerous task the school champions would be facing on Tuesday. He'd have been really hooking forward to it, watching them do whatever it was…cheering on Cedric with everyone else, safe in a seat at the back of the stands… He wondered how the other champions were feeling. Every time he had seen Cedric lately, he had been surrounded by admirers and looking nervous but excited. Harry glimpsed Fleur Delacour from time to time in the corridors; she looked exactly as she always did, haughty and unruffled. And Krum just sat in the library, poring over books. Harry thought of Sirius, and the tight, tense knot in his chest seemed to ease slightly. He would be speaking to him in just over twelve hours, for tonight was the night they were meeting at the common room fire - assuming nothing went wrong, as everything else had done lately… “Look, it's Hagrid!” said Hermione. The back of Hagrid's enormous shaggy head - he had mercifully abandoned his bunches - emerged over the crowd. Harry wondered why he hadn't spotted him at once, as Hagrid was so large, but standing up carefully, he saw that Hagrid had been leaning low, talking to Professor Moody. Hagrid had his usual enormous tankard in front of him, but Moody was drinking from his hip flask. Madam Rosmerta, the pretty landlady, didn't seem to think much of this; she was looking askance at Moody as she collected glasses from tables around them. Perhaps she thought it was an insult to her mulled mead, but Harry knew better. Moody had told them all during their last Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson that he preferred to prepare his own food and drink at all times, as it was so easy for Dark wizards to poison an unattended cup. As Harry watched, he saw Hagrid and Moody get up to leave. He waved, then remembered that Hagrid couldn't see him. Moody, however, paused, his magical eye on the corner where Harry was standing. He tapped Hagrid in the small of the back (being unable to reach his shoulder), muttered something to him, and then the pair of them made their way back across the pub toward Harry and Hermione's table. “All right, Hermione?” said Hagrid loudly. “Hello,” said Hermione, smiling back. Moody limped around the table and bent down; Harry thought he was reading the S.P.E.W. notebook, until he muttered, “Nice cloak, Potter.” Harry stared at him in amazement. The large chunk missing from Moody's nose was particularly obvious at a few inches’ distance. Moody grinned. “Can your eye - I mean, can you -?” “Yeah, it can see through Invisibility Cloaks,” Moody said quietly. “And it's come in useful at times, I can tell you.” Hagrid was beaming down at Harry too. Harry knew Hagrid couldn't see him, but Moody had obviously told Hagrid he was there. Hagrid now bent down on the pretext of reading the S.P.E.W. notebook as well, and said in a whisper so low that only Harry could hear it, “Harry, meet me tonight at midnight at me cabin. Wear that cloak.” Straightening up, Hagrid said loudly, “Nice ter see yeh, Hermione,” winked, and departed. Moody followed him. “Why does Hagrid want me to meet him at midnight?” Harry said, very surprised. “Does he?” said Hermione, looking startled. “I wonder what he's up to? I don't know whether you should go, Harry.…” She looked nervously around and hissed, “It might make you late for Sirius.” It was true that going down to Hagrid's at midnight would mean cutting his meeting with Sirius very fine indeed; Hermione suggested sending Hedwig down to Hagrid's to tell him he couldn't go - always assuming she would consent to take the note, of course - Harry, however, thought it better just to be quick at whatever Hagrid wanted him for. He was very curious to know what this might be; Hagrid had never asked Harry to visit him so late at night. At half past eleven that evening, Harry, who had pretended to go up to bed early, pulled the Invisibility Cloak back over himself and crept back downstairs through the common room. Quite a few people were still in there. The Creevey brothers had managed to get hold of a stack of Support Cedric Diggory! badges and were trying to bewitch them to make them say Support Harry Potter! instead. So far, however, all they had managed to do was get the badges stuck on POTTER STINKS. Harry crept past them to the portrait hole and waited for a minute or so, keeping an eye on his watch. Then Hermione opened the Fat Lady for him from outside as they had planned. He slipped past her with a whispered “Thanks!” and set off through the castle. The grounds were very dark. Harry walked down the lawn toward the lights shining in Hagrid's cabin. The inside of the enormous Beauxbatons carriage was also lit up; Harry could hear Madame Maxime talking inside it as he knocked on Hagrid's front door. “You there, Harry?” Hagrid whispered, opening the door and looking around. “Yeah,” said Harry, slipping inside the cabin and pulling the cloak down off his head. “What's up?” “Got summat ter show yeh,” said Hagrid. There was an air of enormous excitement about Hagrid. He was wearing a flower that resembled an oversized artichoke in his buttonhole. It looked as though he had abandoned the use of axle grease, but he had certainly attempted to comb his hair - Harry could see the comb's broken teeth tangled in it. “What're you showing me?” Harry said warily, wondering if the skrewts had laid eggs, or Hagrid had managed to buy another giant three-headed dog off a stranger in a pub. “Come with me, keep quiet, an’ keep yerself covered with that cloak,” said Hagrid. “We won’ take Fang, he won’ like it…” “Listen, Hagrid, I can't stay long.…I've got to be back up at the castle by one o'clock -” But Hagrid wasn't listening; he was opening the cabin door and striding off into the night. Harry hurried to follow and found, to his great surprise, that Hagrid was leading him to the Beauxbatons carriage. “Hagrid, what -?” “Shhh!” said Hagrid, and he knocked three times on the door bearing the crossed golden wands. Madame Maxime opened it. She was wearing a silk shawl wrapped around her massive shoulders. She smiled when she saw Hagrid. “Ah, ‘Agrid…it is time?” “Bong-sewer,” said Hagrid, beaming at her, and holding out a hand to help her down the golden steps. Madame Maxime closed the door behind her, Hagrid offered her his arm, and they set off around the edge of the paddock containing Madame Maxime's giant winged horses, with Harry, totally bewildered, running to keep up with them. Had Hagrid wanted to show him Madame Maxime? He could see her any old time he wanted…she wasn't exactly hard to miss.… But it seemed that Madame Maxime was in for the same treat as Harry, because after a while she said playfully, “Wair is it you are taking me, ‘Agrid?” “Yeh'll enjoy this,” said Hagrid gruffly, “worth seein', trust me. On'y - don’ go tellin’ anyone I showed yeh, right? Yeh're not s'posed ter know.” “Of course not,” said Madame Maxime, fluttering her long black eyelashes. And still they walked, Harry getting more and more irritated as he jogged along in their wake, checking his watch every now and then. Hagrid had some harebrained scheme in hand, which might make him miss Sirius. If they didn't get there soon, he was going to turn around, go straight back to the castle, and leave Hagrid to enjoy his moonlit stroll with Madame Maxime.… But then - when they had walked so far around the perimeter of the forest that the castle and the lake were out of sight - Harry heard something. Men were shouting up ahead…then came a deafening, earsplitting roar… Hagrid led Madame Maxime around a clump of trees and came to a halt. Harry hurried up alongside them - for a split second, he thought he was seeing bonfires, and men darting around them - and then his mouth fell open. Dragons. Four fully grown, enormous, vicious-looking dragons were rearing onto their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood, roaring and snorting - torrents of fire were shooting into the dark sky from their open, fanged mouths, fifty feet above the ground on their outstretched necks. There was a silvery-blue one with long, pointed horns, snapping and snarling at the wizards on the ground; a smooth-scaled green one, which was writhing and stamping with all its might; a red one with an odd fringe of fine gold spikes around its face, which was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air; and a gigantic black one, more lizard-hike than the others, which was nearest to them. At least thirty wizards, seven or eight to each dragon, were attempting to control them, pulling on the chains connected to heavy leather straps around their necks and legs. Mesmerized, Harry looked up, high above him, and saw the eyes of the black dragon, with vertical pupils like a cat's, bulging with either fear or rage, he couldn't tell which.…It was making a horrible noise, a yowling, screeching scream.… “Keep back there, Hagrid!” yelled a wizard near the fence, straining on the chain he was holding. “They can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet, you know! I've seen this Horntail do forty!” “Is'n’ it beautiful?” said Hagrid softly. “It's no good!” yelled another wizard. “Stunning Spells, on the count of three!” Harry saw each of the dragon keepers pull out his wand. “Stupefy!” they shouted in unison, and the Stunning Spells shot into the darkness like fiery rockets, bursting in showers of stars on the dragons’ scaly hides - Harry watched the dragon nearest to them teeter dangerously on its back legs; its jaws stretched wide in a silent howl; its nostrils were suddenly devoid of flame, though still smoking - then, very slowly, it fell. Several tons of sinewy, scaly-black dragon hit the ground with a thud that Harry could have sworn made the trees behind him quake. The dragon keepers lowered their wands and walked forward to their fallen charges, each of which was the size of a small hill. They hurried to tighten the chains and fasten them securely to iron pegs, which they forced deep into the ground with their wands. “Wan’ a closer look?” Hagrid asked Madame Maxime excitedly. The pair of them moved right up to the fence, and Harry followed. The wizard who had warned Hagrid not to come any closer turned, and Harry realized who it was: Charlie Weasley. “All right, Hagrid?” he panted, coming over to talk. “They should be okay now - we put them out with a Sleeping Draft on the way here, thought it might be better for them to wake up in the dark and the quiet - but, like you saw, they weren't happy, not happy at all -” “What breeds you got here, Charlie?” said Hagrid, gazing at the closest dragon, the black one, with something chose to reverence. Its eyes were still just open. Harry could see a strip of gleaming yellow beneath its wrinkled black eyelid. “This is a Hungarian Horntail,” said Charlie. “There's a Common Welsh Green over there, the smaller one - a Swedish Short-Snout, that blue-gray - and a Chinese Fireball, that's the red.” Charlie looked around; Madame Maxime was strolling away around the edge of the enclosure, gazing at the stunned dragons. “I didn't know you were bringing her, Hagrid,” Charlie said, frowning. “The champions aren't supposed to know what's coming - she's bound to tell her student, isn't she?” “Jus’ thought she'd like ter see ‘em,” shrugged Hagrid, still gazing, enraptured, at the dragons. “Really romantic date, Hagrid,” said Charlie, shaking his head. “Four…” said Hagrid, “so it's one fer each o’ the champions, is it? What've they gotta do - fight ‘em?” “Just get past them, I think,” said Charlie. “We'll be on hand if it gets nasty, Extinguishing Spells at the ready. They wanted nesting mothers, I don't know why…but I tell you this, I don't envy the one who gets the Horntail. Vicious thing. Its back end's as dangerous as its front, look.” Charlie pointed toward the Horntail's tail, and Harry saw long, bronze-colored spikes protruding along it every few inches. Five of Charlie's fellow keepers staggered up to the Horntail at that moment, carrying a clutch of huge granite-gray eggs between them in a blanket. They placed them carefully at the Horntail's side. Hagrid let out a moan of longing. “I've got them counted, Hagrid,” said Charlie sternly. Then he said, “How's Harry?” “Fine,” said Hagrid. He was still gazing at the eggs. “Just hope he's still fine after he's faced this lot,” said Charlie grimly, looking out over the dragons’ enclosure. “I didn't dare tell Mum what he's got to do for the first task; she's already having kittens about him.…” Charlie imitated his mother's anxious voice. “'How could they let him enter that tournament, he's much too young! I thought they were all safe, I thought there was going to be an age limit!’ She was in floods after that Daily Prophet article about him. ‘He still cries about his parents! Oh bless him, I never knew!'” Harry had had enough. Trusting to the fact that Hagrid wouldn't miss him, with the attractions of four dragons and Madame Maxime to occupy him, he turned silently and began to walk away, back to the castle. He didn't know whether he was glad he'd seen what was coming or not. Perhaps this way was better. The first shock was over now. Maybe if he'd seen the dragons for the first time on Tuesday, he would have passed out cold in front of the whole school…but maybe he would anyway.…He was going to be armed with his wand - which, just now, felt like nothing more than a narrow strip of wood - against a fifty-foot-high, scaly, spike-ridden, fire-breathing dragon. And he had to get past it. With everyone watching. How? Harry sped up, skirting the edge of the forest; he had just under fifteen minutes to get back to the fireside and talk to Sirius, and he couldn't remember, ever, wanting to talk to someone more than he did right now - when, without warning, he ran into something very solid. Harry fell backward, his glasses askew, clutching the cloak around him. A voice nearby said, “Ouch! Who's there?” Harry hastily checked that the cloak was covering him and hay very still, staring up at the dark outline of the wizard he had hit. He recognized the goatee…it was Karkaroff. “Who's there?” said Karkaroff again, very suspiciously, looking around in the darkness. Harry remained still and silent. After a minute or so, Karkaroff seemed to decide that he had hit some sort of animal; he was looking around at waist height, as though expecting to see a dog. Then he crept back under the cover of the trees and started to edge forward toward the place where the dragons were. Very slowly and very carefully, Harry got to his feet and set off again as fast as he could without making too much noise, hurrying through the darkness back toward Hogwarts. He had no doubt whatsoever what Karkaroff was up to. He had sneaked off his ship to try and find out what the first task was going to be. He might even have spotted Hagrid and Madame Maxime heading off around the forest together - they were hardly difficult to spot at a distance…and now all Karkaroff had to do was follow the sound of voices, and he, like Madame Maxime, would know what was in store for the champions. By the looks of it, the only champion who would be facing the unknown on Tuesday was Cedric. Harry reached the castle, slipped in through the front doors, and began to climb the marble stairs; he was very out of breath, but he didn't dare slow down.…He had less than five minutes to get up to the fire.… “Balderdash!” he gasped at the Fat Lady, who was snoozing in her frame in front of the portrait hole. “If you say so,” she muttered sleepily, without opening her eyes, and the picture swung forward to admit him. Harry climbed inside. The common room was deserted, and, judging by the fact that it smelled quite normal, Hermione had not needed to set off any Dungbombs to ensure that he and Sirius got privacy. Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and threw himself into an armchair in front of the fire. The room was in semidarkness; the flames were the only source of light. Nearby, on a table, the Support Cedric Diggory! badges the Creeveys had been trying to improve were glinting in the firelight. They now read POTTER REALLY STINKS. Harry looked back into the flames, and jumped. Sirius's head was sitting in the fire. If Harry hadn't seen Mr. Diggory do exactly this back in the Weasleys’ kitchen, it would have scared him out of his wits. Instead, his face breaking into the first smile he had worn for days, he scrambled out of his chair, crouched down by the hearth, and said, “Sirius - how're you doing?” Sirius looked different from Harry's memory of him. When they had said good-bye, Sirius's face had been gaunt and sunken, surrounded by a quantity of long, black, matted hair - but the hair was short and clean now, Sirius's face was fuller, and he looked younger, much more like the only photograph Harry had of him, which had been taken at the Potters’ wedding. “Never mind me, how are you?” said Sirius seriously. “I'm -” For a second, Harry tried to say “fine” - but he couldn't do it. Before he could stop himself, he was talking more than he'd talked in days - about how no one believed he hadn't entered the tournament of his own free will, how Rita Skeeter had lied about him in the Daily Prophet, how he couldn't walk down a corridor without being sneered at - and about Ron, Ron not believing him, Ron's jealousy… “…and now Hagrid's just shown me what's coming in the first task, and it's dragons, Sirius, and I'm a goner,” he finished desperately. Sirius looked at him, eyes full of concern, eyes that had not yet lost the look that Azkaban had given them - that deadened, haunted look He had let Harry talk himself into silence without interruption, but now he said, “Dragons we can deal with, Harry, but we'll get to that in a minute - I haven't got long here…I've broken into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about.” “What?” said Harry, feeling his spirits slip a further few notches.…Surely there could be nothing worse than dragons coming? “Karkaroff,” said Sirius. “Harry, he was a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don't you?” “Yes - he - what?” “He was caught, he was in Azkaban with me, but he got released. I'd bet everything that's why Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year - to keep an eye on him. Moody caught Karkaroff. Put him into Azkaban in the first place.” “Karkaroff got released?” Harry said slowly - his brain seemed to be struggling to absorb yet another piece of shocking information. “Why did they release him?” “He did a deal with the Ministry of Magic,” said Sirius bitterly. “He said he'd seen the error of his ways, and then he named names…he put a load of other people into Azkaban in his place.…He's not very popular in there, I can tell you. And since he got out, from what I can tell, he's been teaching the Dark Arts to every student who passes through that school of his. So watch out for the Durmstrang champion as well.” “Okay,” said Harry slowly. “But…are you saying Karkaroff put my name in the goblet? Because if he did, he's a really good actor. He seemed furious about it. He wanted to stop me from competing.” “We know he's a good actor,” said Sirius, “because he convinced the Ministry of Magic to set him free, didn't he? Now, I've been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, Harry -” “- you and the rest of the world,” said Harry bitterly. “- and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm,” Sirius said hastily, seeing Harry about to speak, “but I don't think so, somehow. I think someone tried to stop him from getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one's going to look into it too closely; Mad-Eye's heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn't mean he can't still spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had.” “So…what are you saying?” said Harry slowly. “Karkaroff's trying to kill me? But - why?” Sirius hesitated. “I've been nearing some very strange things,” he said slowly. “The Death Eaters seem to be a bit more active than usual lately. They showed themselves at the Quidditch World Cup, didn't they? Someone set off the Dark Mark…and then - did you hear about that Ministry of Magic witch who's gone missing?” “Bertha Jorkins?” said Harry. “Exactly…she disappeared in Albania, and that's definitely where Voldemort was rumored to be last…and she would have known the Triwizard Tournament was coming up, wouldn't she?” “Yeah, but…it's not very likely she'd have walked straight into Voldemort, is it?” said Harry. “Listen, I knew Bertha Jorkins,” said Sirius grimly. “She was at Hogwarts when I was, a few years above your dad and me. And she was an idiot. Very nosy, but no brains, none at all. It's not a good combination, Harry. I'd say she'd be very easy to lure into a trap.” “So…so Voldemort could have found out about the tournament?” said Harry. “Is that what you mean? You think Karkaroff might be here on his orders?” “I don't know,” said Sirius slowly, “I just don't know…Karkaroff doesn't strike me as the type who'd go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was powerful enough to protect him. But whoever put your name in that goblet did it for a reason, and I can't help thinking the tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it hook like an accident.” “Looks hike a really good plan from where I'm standing,” said Harry grinning bleaky. “They'll just have to stand back and let the dragons do their stuff.” “Right - these dragons,” said Sirius, speaking very quickly now. “There's a way, Harry. Don't be tempted to try a Stunning Spell - dragons are strong and too powerfully magical to be knocked out by a single Stunner, you need about half a dozen wizards at a time to overcome a dragon -” “Yeah, I know, I just saw,” said Harry. “But you can do it alone,” said Sirius. “There is away, and a simple spell's all you need. Just -” But Harry held up a hand to silence him, his heart suddenly pounding as though it would burst. He could hear footsteps coming down the spiral staircase behind him. “Go!” he hissed at Sirius. ” Go! There's someone coming!” Harry scrambled to his feet, hiding the fire - if someone saw Sirius's face within the walls of Hogwarts, they would raise an almighty uproar - the Ministry would get dragged in - he, Harry, would be questioned about Sirius's whereabouts - Harry heard a tiny pop! in the fire behind him and knew Sirius had gone. He watched the bottom of the spiral staircase. Who had decided to go for a stroll at one o'clock in the morning, and stopped Sirius from telling him how to get past a dragon? It was Ron. Dressed in his maroon paisley pajamas, Ron stopped dead facing Harry across the room, and looked around. “Who were you talking to?” he said. “What's that got to do with you?” Harry snarled. “What are you doing down here at this time of night?” “I just wondered where you -” Ron broke off, shrugging. “Nothing. I'm going back to bed.” “Just thought you'd come nosing around, did you?” Harry shouted. He knew that Ron had no idea what he'd walked in on, knew he hadn't done it on purpose, but he didn't care - at this moment he hated everything about Ron, right down to the several inches of bare ankle showing beneath his pajama trousers. “Sorry about that,” said Ron, his face reddening with anger. “Should've realized you didn't want to be disturbed. I'll let you get on with practicing for your next interview in peace.” Harry seized one of the POTTER REALLY STINKS badges off the table and chucked it, as hard as he could, across the room. It hit Ron on the forehead and bounced off. “There you go,” Harry said. “Something for you to wear on Tuesday. You might even have a scar now, if yon're lucky.…That's what you want, isn't it?” He strode across the room toward the stairs; he half expected Ron to stop him, he would even have liked Ron to throw a punch at him, but Ron just stood there in his too-small pajamas, and Harry, having stormed upstairs, lay awake in bed fuming for a long time afterward and didn't hear him come up to bed. 第十九章 匈牙利号怪角兽 哈利很想同西里斯面对面地谈一次，这个信念在接下来的两周中一直支持着他，如同地平线上一个永不黯淡的亮点。成为全校冠军的那种激动的心情已渐渐平复下来，随之而来的是一种隐隐的恐惧感。第一次任务已在渐渐逼近，好像是什么恐怖的怪物挡在他面前，让他前进不得半步。他从来没有这么紧张过，即使在快迪斯比赛前，或者是在同史林德林班争夺快迪斯杯的时候，他都没有这么局促不安。未来对于哈利来说，简直难以想象。他觉得他的整个生活都被卷入了“第一次任务”这个漩涡里面，也许会随之而中止…… 事实上，他也不知道西里斯有什么法宝能让他觉得好受一些，这个任务对他来说就像是在众目睽睽之下第一次表演一项极具难度和惊险度的魔法。但不管怎么说，在这个时候只要看看西里斯那张友善的脸，哈利也会觉得是种莫大的鼓舞。他回信给西里斯，说他会在约定的时间到休息室的壁炉边与其碰头。他和荷米恩花了很多时间讨论怎样把那天晚上呆在休息室里的人赶走。如果这些方法还不奏效的话，他们就要丢进一袋“粪弹”了。但他们希望不要采取这种手段，因为福利克会剥了他们的皮。 与此同时，哈利在城堡里的日子变得越来越糟，因为理特。史姬特把她那篇关于三巫师比赛的报道发表了出来。而且那篇文章对于比赛倒是着墨不多，反而是对哈利的个人生活大肆渲染了一番。哈利的照片占据了头版的大部分版面，整篇文章（刊登在第二、六、七页）都是有关哈利的，比斯贝顿和丹姆斯安冠军的名字被误拼而且挤在了最后一行，塞德里克也没有被提到。 文章是十天前登出来的，但哈利现在只要一想到它，还是觉得无地自容。在理特。史姬特报道中的那一大堆话，他都记不清自己长这么大曾经说过没有，更别提在那个扫帚橱里说过没有了。 “我想我的力量来源于我的父母，如果他们看到我现在这个样子，会很为我自豪的，有时候夜里我会大声叫着他们的名字，而且我并不急于承认这一点……我知道在比赛中没有什么能伤得了我，因为他们在注视着我……” 理特。史姬特除了把哈利的话翻译成又长又臭的版本之外，她还采访了其他人。 “哈利最后在霍格里彻那里寻找了爱。他的密友柯林说哈利成天跟一个叫荷米恩。格林佐的女孩形影不离。这个在马格出生的女孩除了拥有惊人的美貌之外，还和哈利一样是学校里最好的学生之一。” 从这篇文章登出那时起，哈利就不得不忍受人们的冷嘲热讽，而这些讽刺多半来自史林德林班。 “波特，在耶稣变容节你哭鼻子的时候，要不要给你一条手绢呀？” “波特，你什么时候成了学校里最棒的学生呀？难道这学校是你和格林芬顿一手创建的吗？” “嘿，等一等，哈利！” “对，就是这样！”哈利终于忍无可忍，在走廊上转过身来，大声喊道：“我为了我死去的老妈哭得眼珠子都快掉了，现在我还要去干更多——” “噢不，你刚才把笔给掉了。” 后面站着卓，哈利觉得脸上变得又红又烫。 “噢，是的。”他嗫嚅着嘴，拿回了笔。 “嗯，祝你星期二好运。”她说，“我真心希望你能干得出色。” 哈利觉得自己刚才的举动蠢到了极点。 荷米恩也被搅进了这一不愉快的事件当中，但她并没有冲着不明事理的旁观者发火，事实上，哈利很欣赏她处事的态度。 “惊人的美貌？她？”当班西。帕金森读了理特的文章之后，第一次与荷米恩打了个照面的时候，她尖声大笑：“理特拿什么来作比较的——一只金花鼠？” “不要理它。”荷米恩用一种自尊的口吻说，高昂着头大步流星地走过那些窃笑的女孩子面前，好像什么都没听见。“不要理它，哈利。” 但哈利不能不理。自从哈利把史纳皮关他监闭的决定告诉罗恩之后，罗恩就对他不理不睬的。哈利心里还存着一半的希望，希望他俩能在史纳皮的“地牢”中的两个小时里和好如初，但那天碰到理特登出了那篇文章，从而更使罗恩相信哈利喜欢这种出风头的日子。 荷米恩对他俩的行为感到很生气，她一个一个地劝说，试图使他们打破沉默，但哈利还是固执己见，如果罗恩不承认哈利没有将自己的名字写进燃烧的高脚杯，如果罗恩不向他道歉，他们之间就没有谈话的余地。 “这不是我先挑起的，”哈利固执地说，“这是他的问题。” “你误解他了！”荷米恩忍不住说，“我知道他也误解你了——” “误解他？”哈利说，“我没有误解他……” 但这完全是在撒谎。哈利很喜欢荷米恩，她和罗恩不同。不过当你成天和荷米恩在一起的时候，你会少掉一些欢笑，更多的时间是待在图书馆里。哈利仍然没有掌握召唤符咒，他好像遇到什么障碍了。荷米恩认为学习理论会有所帮助，因此午饭时间他们花了很多时间专心阅读书籍。 维特。克伦也经常长时间地待在图书馆里，哈利不知道他葫芦里卖的什么药。他是在学习呢，还是在寻找什么东西可以帮助他顺利完成第一次任务？荷米恩对克伦的出现很是不满，倒不是因为他妨碍了他们，而是因为成群的女孩子躲在书架后面探视着他，发出惊人的咯咯的笑声。 “他一点也不帅。”她生气地咕哝着，注视着克伦的侧影。“她们喜欢他只是因为他的名气！如果他没有做罗斯基。芬特那件事，她们就不会再朝他看第二眼！” “罗斯基。芬特！”哈利从牙缝里吐出这几个字。这说法和快迪斯的用语简直是谬之千里。一想到罗恩会对荷米恩的这种滑稽说法作何反应，哈利就觉得心里很不好受。 事情就是这样奇怪。当你害怕一件事情，而且愿意付出任何代价让时间变慢的时候，它反而毫不留情地加快速度。日子在飞逝，离第一次任务越来越近，就像有人故意调快了时钟一样。不管哈利走到哪里，他都无法摆脱那种慌乱的感觉，就好像那些由《先知日报》的文章引发的恶意讽刺一样无处不在。 第一次任务开始前的星期天，所有三年级以上的学生都可以参观霍斯马得村。荷米恩告诉哈利离开城堡一阵子会对他有好处，但哈利好像听不过去。 “可是，罗恩怎么办呢？”他说。“难道你不想和他一起去？” “噢……那……，”荷米恩脸上微微泛起了红晕。“我以为我们可以和他在三扫帚酒吧处会合……” “不会。”哈利面无表情地说。 “噢，哈利，这么做真愚蠢——” “我会来的，但我不想见到罗恩，而且我会穿着隐身袍。” “噢，好吧，那么……”荷米恩说到这儿停住了，“可我不喜欢和穿着袍子的你讲话，因为我根本看不见你是不是在我对面。” 于是哈利在宿舍里穿上他的隐身袍，下了楼，和荷米恩一起动身前往霍斯马得。 袍子掩护下的哈利分外轻松，他看着别的学生走过去，进入村庄，他们中的大部分佩戴印有“支持塞德利克。迪格瑞的徽章”字样，幸亏沿路上哈利没有听到什么恶毒的评论，也没见到有人引用那篇该死的文章。 “现在人们可都在看着我了。”荷米恩有点闹别扭地说。那时是晚些时候，他们正走出甜蜜杜克糖果店，手里拿着大号装奶油巧克力吃得津津有味，“他们以为我在跟自个儿说话呢。” “那么就少动些嘴皮子吧。” “好啦，就稍稍掀开一下你的抱子嘛，这儿没有人会找你麻烦的。” “哦，是吗？”哈利说，“看看你身后。” 理特。史姬特和她的摄影师刚从三扫帚酒吧里出来。她们低声讲着话，看也没看荷米恩一眼就经过了他们。哈利为了躲避理特。史姬特喝醉后在空中挥舞的鳄鱼皮手袋不得不退回甜蜜杜克糖果店内。 那两个酒鬼一走，哈利就说，“她在村里住下了，我打赌她会来看我们执行第一次任务。” 哈利这么说着的时候，腹中泛起一股难言的恐慌，仿佛翻江倒海一般，丝丝凉意传遍全身，可他没提这事，荷米恩和哈利还没怎么讨论过第一次任务里要怎么对付，哈利感觉到荷米恩连想都不去想它。 “她可走了。”荷米恩松了口气，目光好像穿过哈利一直望到高街的尽头。“我说干嘛不去酒吧里喝杯黄油啤酒呀，天气有点冷了不是嘛？就算碰见罗思你也用不着跟他说话！”她看出了哈利沉默不答的原因，就有点恼火地补充了一句。 三扫帚酒吧里可座无虚席，大部分人是霍格瓦彻学校里下午没课来这儿消遣的学生，可也还有一些哈利在别处极少见到的魔法师。 哈利推想霍斯马得是全英国唯—一个到处是巫师的村子，这儿对女巫来说更可谓是避难天堂，因为女巫们比不上男术士会乔装自己。 身着隐身袍在人群中移动可真不容易，因为万一意外踩到某人就会异致极为使人尴尬的情形。荷米恩去了买酒，哈利就缓缓地侧身挺进，目标是墙角的一张空桌子。中途哈利见到了罗恩，他正和弗来德、克威和李。乔丹坐在一起。哈利心中强忍着要在罗恩后脑勺狠狠地来一下的冲动，去到桌旁一屁股坐了下来。 荷米思随后就过来了，推了一杯黄酒啤酒到他袍下。 “我在这儿一个人坐着简直就像白痴。”荷米恩咕哝着，“幸亏我有备而来。” 她接着抽出一本有S。P。E。W成员记录的笔记本。哈利看到自己和罗恩的名字列在短短名单的上方。他们在一起坐着编造预言好像是很久以前的事了，后来荷米恩出现了，指派他俩做秘书和财政官。 “你说，我可能应该设法让一些村民加入S。P。E。W。”荷米恩环顾一下酒吧，若有所思地说。 “对，你应该，”哈利说，他大喝了一口酒。“荷米恩，你什么时候才打算放弃这么S。P。E。W劳什子事？” “到佣人小精灵们都有体面的收入和良好的工作待遇时我才会放弃！”她反击道，“你知道吗，我在想是时候采取些更直接的行动了。我搞不懂你是怎么进入学校厨房的？” “我也不懂，要问就问弗来德和乔治。”哈利回答。荷米恩又陷入沉思，哈利就边喝酒边看着酒吧里的人。大家看起来既轻松又快活。 玛克米尔和艾伯特尔在附近一张桌子交换着巧克力青蛙糖的卡片，两个人都戴了支持塞德里克。迪格瑞的徽章在袍上。就在门边上哈利看到卓和一大群她的黑爪子朋友。她可没有戴那徽章以这稍稍让哈利心里好过了一点点。 哈利多想象这里的人一样，坐着讲话啊说笑啊，除了作业什么别的东西也不用担心。如果能这样，要哈利付什么代价他都愿意。他设想着要是自己的名字没出现在燃烧的高脚杯上的话坐在这儿的感觉又会是怎样。起码他就用不着穿隐身袍了。罗恩也会坐在他旁边。还有荷米恩，他们三个人就可以开开心心地猜猜星期二学校的勇士们要面对些什么样艰难危险的任务了。他就会很期待那天来临，安安稳稳地坐在看台上的座椅里边，看那些勇士施展平生所学或者和别人一起为塞德里克加油。 他有点儿想知道别的勇士们有何感想。最近他每次看到塞德里克他都是在众多拥戴者的包围之下的，显得既紧张又兴奋，哈利在走廊进道上也不时瞥见芙璐。迪来高，保持她的一贯风格，高傲又冷静。 而克伦就只泡在图书馆里，熟读群书。 哈利想起了西里斯，他那又紧又硬的领结仿佛些微松动了点。 再过十二小时哈利就会和他说着话了，因为今晚可是他们约好在普通房里的火炉进见面的——如果没出什么岔子，正如最近清事顺利的话。 “看啊！是哈格力！”荷米思说。 哈格力后脑那无比蓬松的一头乱发——他必定是极为宽大地放过了难以完成使命的束发带——在众人中显现。哈利搞不懂自己居然刚才没一眼认出他，因为哈格力实在太显眼了，又小心翼翼地站着。哈利看到哈格力弯腰和莫迪教授说话。哈格力面前的是他平日惯常唱的超大杯啤酒，可莫迪只是喝自己带的温水瓶里的东西。罗斯玛特女士这位漂亮老板娘好像也不怎么介意，她只是在到附近桌子收玻璃杯子时有点不赞许地看着莫迪。可能她觉得莫迪这种做法是对她的加香料蜜酒是一种侮辱吧，可哈利明白点原委。莫迪在上次教授他们对抗黑暗界之法的课程时已经说过无论何时他都更倾向于用自备的饮食，因为对黑暗术士来说要在一杯没人留意的酒中下毒实在是太容易了。 哈利在一边看着，见到哈格力和莫迪起身要走。他挥了挥手，才想起哈格力根本看不见他。可是莫迪反倒稍为迟疑了一下，他的魔眼盯着哈利站着的角落。莫迪敲了敲哈格力的背下方（因为够不着哈格力的肩头），嘀咕了些什么，于是两个人就折回酒吧里面，向着哈利和荷米恩的桌子走来。 “还好吧？荷米恩？”哈格力大声说。 “你好！”荷米恩笑笑说。 莫迪拐着脚绕桌子走几走，然后弯下腰来，哈利还以为他要看S。P。E。W的记录，谁知他开口道，“袍子不错啊，波特。” 哈利大为吃惊地盯着他。莫迪鼻子上那显著的鼻管正在眼前几英尺处。莫迪笑了。 “你的魔法眼能——我是说，你能——？” “对，我的那眼睛可以看穿隐身袍，”莫迪平静地承认，“而且我告诉你，这点有时非常管用。” 哈格力也在向下朝着哈利笑。哈利知道他看不见自己，可莫迪显然已告诉了哈格力哈利在那儿了。 哈格力现在也俯身看S。P。E。W笔记本的扉页，他用低得只有哈利能听见的声音说，“哈利，今晚午夜到我的小屋来，穿那袍子来。” 哈格力站起身又大声说，“见到你很高兴，荷米恩。”眨眨眼，就走了，莫迪跟着他也走了。 “他干嘛约我半夜见面？”哈利惊讶地说。 “他有嘛？”荷米思也显得很吃惊，“我怀疑他的目的，不知道你该不该去，哈利。”她紧张地看看四周，小声说，“你可能会迟到见西里斯的。” 半夜去见哈格力的确会缩短他和西里斯会面的时间。荷米恩建议派海维去跟哈格力说哈利去不了——想当然认为海维会同意当这信差——然而哈利，却觉得最好还是去见哈格力，只要速战速决就行。哈利十分好奇哈格力找他去的目的，他可从没约过哈利这么晚会面。 那晚十一点半，哈利假装要早点上床就寝，实际上披上了隐身袍，小心翼翼穿过普通房爬下楼梯。还有好几个人没睡在房里，克利维兄弟弄大了一堆支持塞德里克。克格瑞的徽章，正努力要说服徽章们改为说支持哈利。波特。到目前为止，他们只能努力到让徽章同意不显示臭波特的字样。哈利爬过他们身边去到肖像洞前，看着表等了一分钟光景。然后如计划好的一样，荷米恩从外面为他打开了胖大婶画门。他闪身而过，低声道了句“多谢！”就动身走出城堡了。 操场一片漆黑。哈利走过草地，朝着哈格力小屋里的灯光前进。 庞大的比尔贝顿马车里面也亮着灯，哈利敲哈格力前门时可以听见玛西姆夫人在里面讲话。 “是你吗，哈利？”哈格力轻声问，开了门四下里望。 “是我，”哈利滑进屋内，脱去斗袍。“什么事呀？” “有些东西给你看，”哈格力说。 哈格力处于一种极大的兴奋之中。他衣服纽扣洞上插了一朵花，看起来就像是一个超大号的防窒息物。而且他也好像放弃了再用润滑油抹头，但肯定他有尝试过梳一下头，证据就是，哈利看到的还在他头上晃荡着的梳子碎齿。 “你要给我看什么？”哈利机警地问，心想是不是史库斯下了蛋，或是哈格力又在哪个酒吧里从陌生人手中买了头三头狗。 “跟着我，别出声，还有穿好那袍，”哈格力说，“我们不带上弗兰了，他不会喜欢看那东西的。” “听着，哈格力，我不可以待很久，我一点钟还得回城堡里去呢——” 可哈格力根本没在听，他开了门，踏入夜色之中。哈利赶忙跟上，出乎意外的是，哈格力正领着他去比尔贝顿马车。 “哈格力，这是怎么——？” “嘘！”哈格力小声说着，拿着他的金色十字杖在门上敲了三下。 玛西姆夫人开了门。她厚重的肩膀上围了一条丝巾。她见到哈格力时笑笑：“啊，哈格力，是时候了吗？” “你好！”哈格力对她笑着说，伸手扶她走下金色的台阶。 玛西姆夫人关上身后的门，绕着哈格力的手沿着围场边出发，那围场里有玛西姆夫人的巨器马。哈利小跑着跟上他们，完全给弄糊涂了。难道哈格力要让他见的是玛西姆夫人？任何时候哈利都可以见她呀，她又不是怎么难找。 然而玛西姆夫人原来也和哈利一样蒙在鼓里，过了一会儿她开玩笑似地说，“你这到底是要带我上哪儿呀，哈格力？” “你会喜欢那儿的，”哈格力大着嗓门说，“值得一看，相信我，嗯——不过可千万别告诉任何人我带你去，懂吗？你们是不该知道的。” “当然不会告诉别人。”玛西姆夫人扑闪着眼睛说，她的眼睫毛又黑又长。 他们继续走着，哈利不时看看表，小跑着赶上他们的脚步，心里越来越不耐烦。哈格力的计划太过草率了，可能会连累哈利错过和西里斯的约会。如果他们不赶快抵达目的地的话，他可要转身就走，回城堡去，让哈格力和玛西姆夫人好好享受俩人的月下漫步了。 可就在那时——他们已经沿着树林边走了那么远，直到看不到城堡和湖水时——哈利听到了一些声响。前方有人在大喊。然后是一阵把耳朵都能撕裂的巨响。 哈格力领着玛西姆夫人绕过一个树丛，便止住了脚步。哈利趋上前去，站在他们旁边——有那么一秒，他看到了火焰，还有四周狂奔的人——然后他吃惊得张大了嘴巴。 是龙！ 四只大吨量的成年大龙，正在一个用厚水围起来的围栏里直立起来、咆哮着、喷着粗气——它们大张的嘴里不仅有尖牙，更喷出阵阵火流，场地里它们伸长了脖子向五十尺高空喷出烈火。有一头银灰蓝色的龙有着长长尖尖的角，向地面上的术士们咆哮怒吼，另一只磷片光滑的绿龙，正用尽全力扭着身子重重地跺地；再有一条红龙，脸上长了一圈古怪的金色河子，正瞄准天上蘑茹状的云朵练喷火呢；再有最后一只，黑色巨龙，比其他任何一只都更像大蜥蜴，也离他们最近。 场面上起码有三十个术士，每七、八个人对付一头龙，尽量想控制它们，死命拉着系在大龙们颈上和腿上皮圈的铁链不松手。哈利完全给这景像镇住了，他抬起头，遥望高空那黑色巨龙的眼睛，那眼睛里有猫那样的圆圆的眼珠子，鼓很大大的，是因为害怕还是愤怒，哈利不清楚，它高声尖叫长号，声音恐惧难听至极。 “待在那儿别过来，哈格力，”一个临近围墙的术士叫道，死扯住手中的铁链。“那龙可以在二十英尺范围内喷火哪！我还见过那黑龙在四十英尺范围内喷火呢！” “这喷火岂不很美吗？”哈格力温柔地说。 “这可是玩命啊！”另一个术士大喊，“数三下，用昏迷术法。” 哈利看到每一个看龙士都拿出了魔杖。 “史达飞！”他们齐声高喊，于是昏迷咒语像喷火的火箭射入夜空，又化作流星雨洒落在大龙布满磁片似的兽皮上——哈利看着靠他们最近的那龙双腿开始站立不稳，危险地摆来摆去，嘴巴突然张开，发出一阵怒号，鼻中也熄了火，可烟还在冒——然后，极为缓慢地，倒了下来——几吨重的强壮之躯，还有那黑色的磷片，砰然倒下，声音大到哈利可以发誓说背后的树也被震得发抖。 养龙人放下手中的魔杖，奔向他们所看管的躺在地上如同座座小山的动物，他们赶忙束紧铁链，紧紧地缚住铁笼，这些铁链的一端深深埋在地底下。 “想近看一下吗？”哈格力兴奋地问玛西姆夫人，他们中的两人慢慢移向栅栏，哈利紧紧跟在后面，哈利终于认出那个先前警告哈格力不要走近的人是谁了，他就是查理。威斯里。 “好了吗？哈格力？”他气喘嘘嘘地说，“他们现在状态很好，我们将他们关在拉网里放在路上，虽然他们可能喜欢醒来时面对的是黑暗和宁静，但是，正如你所看到的，他们本来就不开心，一点都不开心。” “你有哪些种类的，查理？”哈格力问道，眼睛仍然盯着最近的那条黑色的龙，神情中带着一丝崇敬，那只龙的眼睛睁得又大又圆，哈利似乎在它眨巴眨巴的眼睛中看到了一线闪亮的金黄。 “这是匈牙利的号角尾龙，”查理说，“那边有一只威尔土的透身绿，小的那只就是；还有瑞士的短鼻龙，那只蓝灰色的；还有一只中国火球龙，红色的那只。” 查理环顾四周，玛西姆夫人正在铁笼子的四周转悠，凝视着吓怕的龙群。 “我不明白你为何带她来，哈格力，”查理皱着眉头说，“选手不应该知道即将面对的是什么东西，她肯定会告诉她的学生的，不是吗？” “只当作她喜欢看不就得了。”哈格力耸了耸肩，眼睛仍然盯着笼子里的龙群。 “真是很浪漫耶，哈格力。”查理边说边摇头。 “四只……那么就是每个选手对付一只，对吗？”哈格力问道。 “或许只是跨过他们，”查理说，“但是说实话，我并不羡慕碰上号尾龙的那位，那只看起来很可怕，它的尾部看起来和头部一样凶狠危险，你看。” 查理指着号尾龙的尾巴，哈利果真看到长长的钉状物密密麻麻地排列着。 这时，查理的五个同行也走向号尾龙，他们提着一大堆巨大的灰色蛋状物，放在号尾龙的身旁，号尾龙发出一声饥渴的吼叫。 “我已安排好了，哈格力，”查理严肃地说道，接着他又问哈格力，“哈利怎么样了？” “挺好的。”哈格力说着，眼睛仍然盯着鸡蛋。 “希望他看到这些东西时还能保持那个样子，”查理一本正经地说，很小心地不去靠近栅栏，“我不敢告诉妈妈他即将碰到的第一个难题是什么，她总是弄一大堆轻桃的女孩子在他身边……”查理摹仿着他妈妈焦急的神情：“他们怎么能让他参加那该死的比赛，他还年青着呢！我觉得要有个年龄的限制才行！她看了《先知日报》后大为光火，他竟向他的父母叫嚷！噢，老天保佑，我从来都不知道他的事。” 哈利已经受够了，他相信哈格力不会注意到他，因为有四只龙和玛西姆夫人占据他的视线，于是他静静地转身，默默地从城堡走开了。 预见到将要发生的事情，他不肯定自己以此是否高兴。也许这样更好。第一个震惊现在结束了。如果在星期二他是第一次见到那些龙，可能他会在全校面前放出寒气……但也可能会……他会佩上他的魔杖来对付一条五十英尺高，长满鳞片，被钉着的喷火龙，尽管魔杖刚才和一条细木锯并没什么两样。而他必须要通过这项考验。 在众目睽睽之下。该怎么做呢？ 哈利加快了速度，沿着森林的边缘前进，只有不到15分钟了，他要赶回炉边和西里斯商量，这么急切地要与某个人谈话的感觉地从来都没有过。突然，一点预兆都没有，他撞上了一个非常坚硬的物体。 哈利被撞了回来，眼镜歪在一边，他紧抓着身上的斗篷。旁边响起一声，“哎哟，谁在那儿啊？” 哈利急忙检查斗篷是否还包着自己，他静静地躺着，盯着那个他撞到的巫师的黑黑的轮廓。他认出了那山羊胡子……那是卡克罗夫。 “谁在那儿啊？”卡克罗夫又喊了一声，疑惑地在黑暗中张望。哈利还是静静地，一声不吭。大约过了一分钟，卡克罗夫似乎认为他是撞上了某种动物，他看着四周齐腰高的地方，好像在找一只狗一样。 然后他又爬回到树丛下，开始向龙所在的地方徐徐前进。 慢慢地，小心翼翼地，哈利站了起来，又开始出发。他压低声量，以最快速度，穿过黑暗，向霍格瓦彻走去。 卡克罗夫要做的事，他可是知道得一清二楚。他曾经偷偷溜下船探听到他的第一项任务是什么。他甚至可能见到哈格力和玛西姆夫人一起在林子周围——在一定距离内要看到他们并不难……而现在卡克罗夫要做的只是跟着声音走，这样，像玛西姆夫人一样，他就能知道等待着选手们的将是什么了。从表面上看，对于星期二的考验还一无所知的就只有塞德里克。 哈利来到了城堡，从前门溜了过去，开始爬大理石的楼梯，他气都快喘不过来了，但还是不敢有丝毫的松懈……他只有不到5分钟的时间去赶到火边…… “废话！”他气喘嘘嘘地对那个在肖像洞上画中打盹的胖女人说。 “你说是就是吧，”她睡眼惺松地咕哝道，连眼睛也不睁开，画像向前晃开让他进去。哈利向里爬去。公共房间里没有人。从气味十分正常这一点来判断，荷米恩不必撒粪弹也没有人会偷听到他和西里斯的谈话。 哈利脱下隐身斗篷，一屁股坐到火前的扶椅中。房间里一片昏暗，火焰是唯一的光源。旁边，在桌上，那个克威一直试图利用的写着“支持塞德里克。迪格瑞”的徽章在火光中闪闪发亮。上边现在写的还是“波特恶臭熏天”。哈利回头朝火焰里一看，跳了起来。 西里斯的头正坐在火里。如果哈利没有在威斯里的厨房里见到迪格瑞先生这样做的话，他早已吓得神志不清了。相反，他的脸上绽开了这些天来的第一个笑容，他从椅子里跃起，伏在炉边，说：“西里斯，你好吗？” 西里斯看起来和哈利印像中的他不一样。在他们告别的时候，西里斯的脸显得憔碎骨瘦如柴，被一大把又长又黑，蓬乱的毛发包着——但现在毛发短而干净，西里斯的脸丰满了，看起来更年轻，更像那张相片，那是哈利保存的唯—一张他的照片，是在西里斯的婚礼上拍的。 “别管我，你怎么样？”西里斯一脸严肃地问。 “我——”有一秒，哈利想说“很好”——但他不能。在他缓过神来之前，他已经说了几天以来最多的话语——关于没人相信他不愿参加“三巫大赛”，关于理特。史姬特在《先知日报》上的谎言，关于…… “如今，哈格力也已告诉我即将来临的第一个难题就是要对付龙，西里斯，现在我是在劫难逃了。”他绝望地说。 西里斯看着他，眼里满是关切，那双眼睛仍未失去阿兹克班赋予的那种神情，那种顽固的、挥之不去的神情，开始他任由哈利一个人说个不停，等到他沉静下来，他才说：“哈利，龙我们是能够应付的，但我们必须马上到达那里，我们不能在这儿呆太久……我先前闯进了一间施了魔法的房子去烤火，主人可能随时会回来，这里我想警告你几句。” “什么？”哈利问他，霎时感到自己的精神更加滑向了低谷，诚然，没有什么比龙的到来更加可怕了？ 西里斯接着说：“哈利，卡克罗夫简直是个食尸者，你知道什么是食尸者吧？” “啊，他……什么？” “他在阿兹克班和我一起被抓住了，但是现在他被释放了，我打赌丹伯多今年之所以需要沃罗在霍格瓦彻正是为了监视他，莫迪一抓到卡克罗夫，肯定首先把他送进阿兹克班。” “卡克罗夫获释了？”哈利喃喃道。他在脑海中努力挣扎着去接受又～则令人震惊的消息。“为什么他们释放他？” “他与魔力大臣打了一个赌，”西里斯痛苦地说：“他说他犯了一些错误，然后指出一大堆……最后他弄了一大雄人进阿兹克班去顶替他，在那儿他真是很不受欢迎，我可以告诉你这一点，并且，自从他出来后，他一直在对他那所混帐学校的每一位学生和教授充满仇恨，所以你也要当心选手。” “好的，”哈利慢慢应声答道，“但是……你刚才是说卡克罗夫将我的名字写在了高脚杯里面，对吗？这样一来，如果他做到了，就不愧为一名好演员，他会装作大为光火的样子，实际上只是想阻止我去参加比赛。” “我们知道他在玩把戏，”西里斯说，“因为他说服魔力大臣放了他，这还不够吗？如今，我一直关注着《先知日报》，你知道的罗，哈利——” “你总是很关注其他的事情，”哈利痛苦地说。 “况且，从那个叫史姬特的女人上个月所写的文章来看，莫迪和霍格瓦彻出发的前一天晚上遭到了攻击。当然，我知道她称那是一个错误的警告，”西里斯急促地说，生怕哈利插进话来，“但是我不这样认为，我觉得一定是有人试图阻止他到达霍格瓦彻，我认为一定是有人感到有他在，他们的困难就越大，所以才这么做。现在没人愿意去深入调查这件事，魔眼听到太多这样的事情了。但是那并非意味着他不能发现事情的真相，莫迪毕竟是大臣所拥有的最棒的勇士。 “那么，你是要说什么呢？”哈利慢慢地说，“卡克罗夫想杀我吗？但是……为什么呢？” 西里斯有点犹豫。 “我听到一些很奇怪的事情，”他喃喃道，“最近较以往活跃了许多，他们在快迪斯的世界杯发现了，不是吗？又有人放出了黑暗公爵的标记……到后来，你听说过魔法大臣那个秘书消失的事吗？” “珀茜。佐金斯吗？”哈利问。 “正是，她在阿尔巴尼亚突然消失了，而那里据传正是福尔得摩特最后出现的地方，她一定是听说三巫师比赛出现才出的，不是吗？” “对，但是她不可能直接去找福尔得摩特吧？”哈利自言自语道。 “听着，我了解珀茜。佐金斯，”西里斯一本正经地说。“那么，福尔得摩特本可以知道关于比赛的实情的，对吗？”哈利问，“你是这个意思吗？你认为卡克罗夫可能会照他的命令在这儿的吗？” “不知道，”西里斯慢慢地说，“就是不知道……除非卡克罗夫知道福尔得摩特有足够的威力保护他，他才胆敢像福尔得库特那样打我的，但无论是谁把你的名字写在高脚杯上，都有个原因，我总是想比赛是个攻击你的好办法，并且可以让它看上去像场意外。” “从我的观点看，看上去完全是早有预谋。”哈利郁郁地说，“他们只须往后站，让那些龙完成他们的任务。” “对了——这些龙，”西里斯说的很快了，“有办法了，哈利，别上当去试一个眩晕符咒——龙过于强大，过于神奇，不会让一个出色的人打倒的，你一次需要半打左右的法术才可制服一条龙。” “呀，我知道的，我明白了。”哈利说。 “但你自己可以胜任，”西里斯说。“有个法子，你只要一个咒语，只要——” 但哈利举起手不让他说，他的心跳得厉害，似乎要蹦出来了，他听到身后以螺旋梯上传下了脚步声。 “走！”他对西里斯沙沙说了声，“走！有人来了！” 哈利急忙站起来，藏了火——要是谁在霍格瓦彻墙内看到西里斯的脸，他们会发动一场浩劫——部里会卷入的——他自己会被拷问关于西里斯的行踪的——哈利听到身后火堆里“叭”的一声轻响，知道西里斯已经走了，他看着螺旋梯下边——谁在凌晨一点起来散步，拦住西里斯，不让他告诉打败龙的方法呢？ 是罗恩穿着香芹睡衣，直对着哈利，环顾一下问：“刚才你在和谁说话？” “关你什么事？”哈利吼道，“晚上这个时候你在这搞什么鬼？” “我不过想知道你在——”罗恩止住了，耸耸肩，“不干什么，我要回去睡觉。” “你想下来到处嗅嗅，对吗？”哈利大吼，他知道罗恩不明白他走进来干什么，知道罗恩并非有意这么做，但他不管——这时他对关于罗恩的一切东西，直到他睡裤下赤裸的脚踝下几寸的东西，都恨之入骨。 “对不起。”罗恩说，他的脸因怒气而胀红了，“没料到你不想被打扰，我会让你安静地为下一个面试继续练习的。” 哈利从桌上抓过一个写着“波特恶臭熏天”的徽章，狠狠地尽力把它扔过屋子，击中罗恩的前额，弹开了。 “去你的吧！”哈利说，“那是给你在周日戴的，你现在甚至可能有个疤了，如果走运的话……那正是你想要的，对吗？” 他大步穿过屋子，走向楼梯，他有点想让罗恩拉住他，甚至想让罗恩打他一拳，但罗恩穿着睡衣站在那里，哈利在楼上大发雷霆后，躺在床上，很久了他也没有睡着，他没听到罗恩回到床上。 |
