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哈利·波特与死亡圣器
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

英文中文双语对照双语交替

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CHAPTER TWO IN MEMORIAM

第二章　回忆

Harry was bleeding. Clutching his right hand in his left and swearing under his breath, he shouldered open his bedroom door. There was a crunch of breaking china: He had trodden on a cup of cold tea that had been sitting on the floor outside his bedroom door.

哈利在流血。他左手捏住右手，嘴里不出声地骂着，用肩膀推开卧室的门。脚下突然发出瓷器碎裂的嘎吱声：一杯凉茶放在他卧室门外的地上，他一脚踩了上去。

“What the — ?”

“怎么——？”

He looked around; the landing of number four, Privet Drive, was deserted. Possibly the cup of tea was Dudley’s idea of a clever booby trap. Keeping his bleeding hand elevated, Harry scraped the fragments of cup together with the other hand and threw them into the already crammed bin just visible inside his bedroom door. Then he tramped across to the bathroom to run his finger under the tap.

哈利四下张望，女贞路四号的楼梯平台上空无一人。这杯茶大概是达力自作聪明，想给他搞个恶作剧吧。哈利高举着流血的手，用另一只手捡起茶杯碎片，扔进卧室门后那个已经满满当当的垃圾箱里。然后他穿过房间走进浴室，把手指放在水龙头下冲洗。

It was stupid, pointless, irritating beyond belief that he still had four days left of being unable to perform magic . . . but he had to admit to himself that this jagged cut in his finger would have defeated him. He had never learned how to repair wounds, and now he came to think of it — particularly in light of his immediate plans — this seemed a serious flaw in his magical education. Making a mental note to ask Hermione how it was done, he used a large wad of toilet paper to mop up as much of the tea as he could, before returning to his bedroom and slamming the door behind him.

还有四天不能使用魔法，这真是愚蠢，毫无道理，令人恼火……但他不得不承认，手指上这个深深的伤口肯定使他不能得心应手。他从来没学会怎样修复创伤，现在想来——特别是想到他的下一步计划——这似乎是他魔法教育中的一个严重缺陷。他一边暗自决定下次向赫敏请教这个问题，一边拿一大团手纸尽量擦去地板上的茶渍，然后回到卧室，重重地关上了房门。

Harry had spent the morning completely emptying his school trunk for the first time since he had packed it six years ago. At the start of the intervening school years, he had merely skimmed off the topmost three quarters of the contents and replaced or updated them, leaving a layer of general debris at the bottom — old quills, desiccated beetle eyes, single socks that no longer fit. Minutes previously, Harry had plunged his hand into this mulch, experienced a stabbing pain in the fourth finger of his right hand, and withdrawn it to see a lot of blood.

早上，哈利彻底清空了他上学用的箱子，这是他六年前装箱以来的第一次。以前每次开学，他都是把箱子上面四分之三的东西替换、更新一下，箱底一直留着一层乱七八糟的杂物——旧的羽毛笔，枯干的甲虫眼睛，早已穿不下的配不成对的袜子。几分钟前，哈利把手伸进这层杂物，右手的无名指突然一阵钻心的剧痛，抽出来一看，已经血流如注。

He now proceeded a little more cautiously. Kneeling down beside the trunk again, he groped around in the bottom and, after retrieving an old badge that flickered feebly between SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY and POTTER STINKS, a cracked and worn-out Sneakoscope, and a gold locket inside which a note signed R.A.B. had been hidden, he finally discovered the sharp edge that had done the damage. He recognized it at once. It was a two-inch-long fragment of the enchanted mirror that his dead godfather, Sirius, had given him. Harry laid it aside and felt cautiously around the trunk for the rest, but nothing more remained of his godfather’s last gift except powdered glass, which clung to the deepest layer of debris like glittering grit.

现在他的动作比较谨慎了。他重新跪在箱子旁边，在箱底小心摸索着，掏出一个破旧的徽章，上面交替闪烁着支持塞德里克·迪戈里和波特臭大粪的淡淡字样；接着他又掏出了一个破旧开裂的窥镜和一个金挂坠盒，盒子里藏着一张签名为R．A．B．的字条，最后发现了划伤他手指的利刃。他立刻认了出来，那是已故教父小天狼星送给他的魔镜碎片，有两英寸长。哈利把它放在一边，小心翼翼地在箱子里寻找其他残片，可是教父的最后一件礼物只剩下了星星点点的玻璃碎屑，粘在箱子的最底层，像亮晶晶的粗砂粒。

Harry sat up and examined the jagged piece on which he had cut himself, seeing nothing but his own bright green eye reflected back at him. Then he placed the fragment on top of that morning’s Daily Prophet, which lay unread on the bed, and attempted to stem the sudden upsurge of bitter memories, the stabs of regret and of longing the discovery of the broken mirror had occasioned, by attacking the rest of the rubbish in the trunk.

哈利直起身子，仔细端详着那块划伤他手指、边缘不齐的碎片，在里面只看见自己的一双明亮的绿眼睛。他把破镜片放在床上那份早晨刚送到、还没有看过的《预言家日报》上，转身去对付箱子里剩下的垃圾，想以此遏制突然涌上心头的痛苦回忆，那些由破碎的镜片引起的揪心的悔恨和思念。

It took another hour to empty it completely, throw away the useless items, and sort the remainder in piles according to whether or not he would need them from now on. His school and Quidditch robes, cauldron, parchment, quills, and most of his textbooks were piled in a corner, to be left behind. He wondered what his aunt and uncle would do with them; burn them in the dead of night, probably, as if they were the evidence of some dreadful crime. His Muggle clothing, Invisibility Cloak, potion-making kit, certain books, the photograph album Hagrid had once given him, a stack of letters, and his wand had been repacked into an old rucksack. In a front pocket were the Marauder’s Map and the locket with the note signed R.A.B. inside it. The locket was accorded this place of honor not because it was valuable — in all usual senses it was worthless — but because of what it had cost to attain it.

他又花了一小时才把箱子彻底清空，扔掉没用的东西，剩下的根据以后是否需要分成了几堆。学院长袍、魁地奇队袍、坩埚、羊皮纸、羽毛笔以及大多数课本都堆在一个墙角，留在家里。不知道姨妈姨父会怎么处理它们，没准是半夜三更一把火烧掉，就好像它们是某种滔天大罪的证据。他的麻瓜衣服、隐形衣、配制魔药的用具、几本书，还有海格以前送给他的那本相册、一沓信件和魔杖则放进了一只旧背包里。背包前兜里塞着活点地图和装着R．A．B．签名字条的金挂坠盒。把挂坠盒放在这么重要的位置，不是因为它有多么珍贵——按常理说，它毫无价值——而是因为获取它所付出的代价。

This left a sizable stack of newspapers sitting on his desk beside his snowy owl, Hedwig: one for each of the days Harry had spent at Privet Drive this summer.

现在，只剩下桌上他的雪袅海德薇旁边的那一大堆报纸了：哈利在女贞路过暑假，每天都有一份。

He got up off the floor, stretched, and moved across to his desk. Hedwig made no movement as he began to flick through the newspapers, throwing them onto the rubbish pile one by one. The owl was asleep, or else faking; she was angry with Harry about the limited amount of time she was allowed out of her cage at the moment.

他从地上站起来，伸了个懒腰，朝书桌走去。他飞快地翻看着报纸，把它们一份份扔到那堆垃圾上，海德薇在旁边一动不动。猫头鹰睡着了，也许它是在装睡。它在生哈利的气，因为这段时间让它出笼的时间太少了。

As he neared the bottom of the pile of newspapers, Harry slowed down, searching for one particular issue that he knew had arrived shortly after he had returned to Privet Drive for the summer; he remembered that there had been a small mention on the front about the resignation of Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies teacher at Hogwarts. At last he found it. Turning to page ten, he sank into his desk chair and reread the article he had been looking for.

那堆报纸快要见底的时候，哈利的速度慢了下来，他在寻找他来女贞路过暑假后不久送来的那期报纸。他记得头版上有一小条关于霍格沃茨学校的麻瓜研究课教师凯瑞迪·布巴吉辞职的消息。好，终于找到了。他翻到第10版，坐在书桌前的椅子上，再次阅读他一直寻找的那篇文章。

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE REMEMBERED

怀念阿不思·邓布利多

by Elphias Doge

埃非亚斯·多吉

I met Albus Dumbledore at the age of

我是进入霍格沃茨的那天认识阿不思·邓布利多的，当时我十一岁。我们之所以相互吸引，无疑是因为我们都觉得自己是局外人。我入学前不久染上了龙痘疮，虽然不再传染，但我满脸痘疮，肤色发青，没有多少人愿意接近我。阿不思呢，他是顶着恶名的压力来到霍格沃茨的。就在不到一年前，他父亲珀西瓦尔凶残地袭击了三个年轻麻瓜，事情闹得沸沸扬扬。阿不思从不试图否认他父亲（在阿兹卡班终身监禁）犯有这桩罪行。相反，当我鼓起勇气问他时，他向我明确表示他知道父亲有罪。除此之外，邓布利多拒绝谈论这件令人伤心的事，虽然有许多人想套他的话，有人甚至津津乐道地赞扬他父亲的行为，并断定阿不思也是个仇视麻瓜的人。但是他们大错特错了——凡是认识阿不思的人都可以证明，他从未表露过丝毫反麻瓜倾向。事实上，他日后坚决维护麻瓜权益的做法为他树敌不少。

eleven, on our first day at Hogwarts.

几个月以后，阿不思的名声就开始超过他父亲。第一学年快结束时，人们不再把他看作一个仇视麻瓜者的儿子，而是看作学校里一个前所未有的最聪明的学生。我们有幸成为他朋友的人，以他为榜样获益匪浅，更不用说他总是毫不吝啬地给我们以帮助和鼓励。他多年之后向我坦言，他当时就知道他最大的乐趣在于教书。

Our mutual attraction was undoubt-

他不仅赢得了学校颁发的各种重要奖项，而且很快就和当时最有名的魔法大师保持频繁的通信联系，包括著名炼金术士尼克·勒梅，知名历史学家巴希达·巴沙特，以及魔法理论家阿德贝·沃夫林。他的几篇论文刊登在《今日变形术》《魔咒创新》和《实用魔药大师》等学术刊物上。邓布利多的前途似乎是一片辉煌，惟一的问题就是他什么时候出任魔法部长。在后来的日子里，虽然经常有人预言他将要担任这个职务，他却从来没有当部长的野心。

edly due to the fact that we both felt

我们入学三年后，阿不思的弟弟阿不福思也来到了霍格沃茨。兄弟两个并不像。阿不福思从来不爱读书，而且，他喜欢决斗，不喜欢通过理性来协商来解决问题，这点也不像阿不思。不过，有人说兄弟俩关系不好。这也不符合事实。他们虽然性格迥异，相处还算和睦。替阿不福思说句公道话，必须承认生活在阿不思的阴影里不是件特别舒服的事。作为他的朋友，总是被他比得黯然失色，实在有伤士气；作为一个弟弟，肯定也不会愉快多少。

ourselves to be outsiders. I had con-

阿不思和我离开霍格沃茨后，打算按照当时的传统结伴周游世界，拜访和观察国外的巫师，然后再追求各自的事业。然而，悲剧从天而降。就在我们出发的前一天，阿不思的母亲坎德拉过世，阿不思成了一家之主，成了挣钱养家的顶梁柱。我推迟动身，参加了坎德拉的葬礼，然后一个人踏上了孤独的旅途。阿不思要照顾一对年幼的弟妹，家里生活拮据，他不可能和我结伴旅行了。

tracted dragon pox shortly before arriving at school,

在我们的一生中，那段时间接触最少。我给阿不思写信，描绘旅途中的奇特见闻，从逃脱希腊的客迈拉（希腊神话中的狮头、羊身、蛇尾的吐火女怪）。到参观埃及炼金术士们的试验。我这么做也许太不善解人意了。他的信里很少提及他的日常生活，我猜想对于他这样一位出色的巫师来说，那肯定是乏味得令人沮丧。我沉浸在自己的游历中，一年的旅行快要结束时，悲剧再次降临在邓布利多家里，他的妹妹阿利安娜死了。我听了万分震惊。

and while I was no longer contagious, my pock-

虽说阿利安娜长期体弱多病，但母亲刚去世不久又遭此打击，阿利安娜的两个哥哥久久难以释怀。所有与阿不思亲近的人——我自己也有幸算在内——一致认为，阿利安娜的死，以及阿不思觉得自己对此事所负的责任（当然了，他实际上并无罪责），成为他终生无法摆脱的阴影。

marked visage and greenish hue did not encour-

我回国后，看到的是一个年轻人经历了与他的年龄不相称的老人的痛苦。阿不思比以前更加沉默寡言，心情也沉重许多。更令他痛苦的是，阿利安娜的死不仅没有使阿不思和阿不福思的关系更加紧密，反而使他们变得疏远了。（这种疏远逐渐改善——后来他们重新建立了关系，即使不算亲密，无疑还算友好。）然而，从那以后，阿不思很少谈及他的父母和阿利安娜，他的朋友们也避免谈论他们。

age many to approach me. For his part, Albus had

此后几年，他的辉煌成就自会有人去描述。邓布利多对巫术知识宝库所做的巨大贡献，包括发现龙血的十二种用途，还有他担任威森加摩首席魔法师时在许多判决中所展示的智慧，都会使后人受益。人们还说，没有一场巫师决斗能比得上一九四五年邓布利多与格林德沃之间的较量。那些目睹过这两位非凡巫师展开决战的人们，描绘了他们当时所感受到的恐惧和敬畏。邓布利多的胜利，及其对巫师界产生的影响，被看作是魔法历史上的一个转折点，堪与《国际保密法》的出台和神秘人的垮台相提并论。

arrived at Hogwarts under the burden of unwanted

阿不思·邓布利多从不恃才傲物，追求虚荣。他总能发现别人身上值得珍视的东西，不管那个人表面看去多么落魄和不起眼。我相信，是他早年痛失亲人的经历，赋予了他博大的仁慈和悲悯之心。我将无比怀念他的友情，然而，跟整个巫师界相比，我个人的损失实在不算什么。毫无疑问，他是霍格沃茨历届校长中最有感召力、最受人爱戴的一位，无论活着时还是死去时，总是为更崇高的利益而工作，直到生命的最后一刻，就像我第一次见到他的那天，他向一个患龙痘疮的小男孩友好地伸出了手。

notoriety. Scarcely a year previously, his father,

哈利读完了，但仍然凝视着讣文旁的那张照片。邓布利多脸上带着那种熟悉的、慈祥的微笑，但从半月形镜片上望过来的目光——虽然是印在报纸上的，却仿佛正用Ｘ光审视着哈利，使哈利觉得又伤心，又有一种羞愧感。

Percival, had been convicted of a savage and well-

他曾经以为自己很了解邓布利多，可是读了这篇讣文，他不得不承认他对邓布利多几乎一无所知。他从来没有想象过邓布利多的童年和青年时代，似乎邓布利多一下子就变成了哈利认识他的那个样子，年高德劭，须发银白。想到少年时期的邓布利多，总使人感觉很怪异，就好像要想象一个头脑迟钝的赫敏，或想象一只待人友善的炸尾螺。

publicized attack upon three young Muggles.

他从来没有想过问问邓布利多的过去。当然啦，那么做会显得有点别扭，甚至冒昧，但是邓布利多参加了与格林德沃的那场传奇般的决斗，这是尽人皆知的事实，而哈利居然没有想到向邓布利多问问当时的情景，也没有向他问问他的其他著名成就。没有，他们总是在谈论哈利，哈利的过去，哈利的未来，哈利的计划……而现在哈利感觉到，尽管他的未来确实危机四伏，前途未卜，但他失去的机会再也无法挽回：他没有向邓布利多询问有关他自己的更多情况，而他向校长提出的惟一一个私人问题，却是他怀疑邓布利多惟一没有做出诚实回答的问题：

Albus never attempted to deny that his father

“你照魔镜的时候，看见了什么？”

(who was to die in Azkaban) had committed this

“我？我看见自己拿着一双厚厚的羊毛袜。”

crime; on the contrary, when I plucked up courage

哈利沉思了几分钟，把讣文从《预言家日报》上撕下来，仔细折叠，夹在了《实用防御魔法及其对黑魔法的克制》第一册里。他把剩下来的报纸扔在垃圾堆上，转身望着房间。房间里整洁多了。惟一放得不是地方的是当天的《预言家日报》，仍然摊在床上，上面压着那块破碎的镜片。

to ask him, he assured me that he knew his father to

哈利走过去，把碎镜片从当天的《预言家日报》上抖落，然后展开了报纸。早晨他从猫头鹰邮差那里接过卷成筒状的报纸，匆匆扫了一眼标题，发现没有伏地魔的消息，就把它扔到了一边。哈利相信是魔法部给《预言家日报》施加了压力，要求封锁关于伏地魔的消息。直到这时，他才发现自己漏掉了什么。

be guilty. Beyond that, Dumbledore refused to speak

在报纸头版的下半页，有一幅邓布利多神色匆匆、大步行走的照片，上面略小一点的标题是：

of the sad business, though many attempted to make

邓布利多——终于真相大白？

him do so. Some, indeed, were disposed to praise

一部令人震惊的传记下周问世，主角是那位有缺陷的天才，许多人认为他是他所属的时代最伟大的巫师。丽塔·斯基特剥去了那个深受大家喜爱的须发银白的智者形象的外衣，揭露了邓布利多动荡的童年和混乱的青春时代、他终生的仇敌，以及他带入坟墓的那些罪恶的秘密。为什么这个有望成为魔法部部长的人仅满足于当一名校长？那个名为凤凰社的秘密组织的真正目的是什么？邓布利多究竟是怎么死的？

his father’s action and assumed that Albus too was a

这些以及更多问题的答案，都在丽塔·斯基特最新出版的爆炸性传记《阿不思·邓布利多的生平与谎言》中做了探究，贝蒂·布雷思韦特对传记作者做了独家采访，见本报第13版。

Muggle-hater. They could not have been more mistaken: As anybody who knew Albus would attest, he never revealed the remotest anti-Muggle tendency. Indeed, his determined support for Muggle rights gained him many enemies in subsequent years.

哈利扯开报纸，找到第13版。文章上面有幅照片，又是一张熟悉的脸：一个女人戴着一副镶着珠宝的眼睛，一头金发弄成精致的大卷儿，牙齿露着，绽开一个显然自以为很迷人的笑容，手指张开朝哈利摆动着。哈利尽量不去看这令人恶心的照片，继续往下读。

In a matter of months, however, Albus’s own fame had begun to eclipse that of his father. By the end of his first year he would never again be known as the son of a Muggle-hater, but as nothing more or less than the most brilliant student ever seen at the school. Those of us who were privileged to be his friends benefited from his example, not to mention his help and encouragement, with which he was always generous. He confessed to me in later life that he knew even then that his greatest pleasure lay in teaching.

丽塔·斯基特的文笔以犀利著称，但她本人却热情随和得多。在她那温暖舒适的家中，她在门厅里迎接了我，把我直接领进厨房，喝茶，吃一片重糖重油的蛋糕，当然啦，还有刚出锅的、热气腾腾的聊天话题。

He not only won every prize of note that the school offered, he was soon in regular correspondence with the most notable magical names of the day, including Nicolas Flamel, the celebrated alchemist; Bathilda Bagshot, the noted historian; and Adalbert Waffling, the magical theoretician. Several of his papers found their way into learned publications such as Transfiguration Today, Challenges in Charming, and The Practical Potioneer. Dumbledore’s future career seemed likely to be meteoric, and the only question that remained was when he would become Minister of Magic. Though it was often predicted in later years that he was on the point of taking the job, however, he never had Ministerial ambitions.

“不用说，邓布利多是一个传记作家梦寐以求的人物，”斯基特说，“这么漫长而丰富的一生。我的书是第一本，我相信后面会有许多许多。”

Three years after we had started at Hogwarts, Albus’s brother, Aberforth, arrived at school. They were not alike; Aberforth was never bookish and, unlike Albus, preferred to settle arguments by dueling rather than through reasoned discussion. However, it is quite wrong to suggest, as some have, that the brothers were not friends. They rubbed along as comfortably as two such different boys could do. In fairness to Aberforth, it must be admitted that living in Albus’s shadow cannot have been an altogether comfortable experience. Being continually outshone was an occupational hazard of being his friend and cannot have been any more pleasurable as a brother.

斯基特无疑是个快手。这本长达九百页的传记仅在邓布利多六月份神秘死亡的四个星期后就完成了。我问她怎么能做到如此神速。

When Albus and I left Hogwarts we intended to take the then-traditional tour of the world together, visiting and observing foreign wizards, before pursuing our separate careers. However, tragedy intervened. On the very eve of our trip, Albus’s mother, Kendra, died, leaving Albus the head, and sole breadwinner, of the family. I postponed my departure long enough to pay my respects at Kendra’s funeral, then left for what was now to be a solitary journey. With a younger brother and sister to care for, and little gold left to them, there could no longer be any question of Albus accompanying me.

“噢，如果你像我一样做了这么多年的记者，抢时间就成了第二天性。我知道巫师如饥似渴地想要一本完整的传记，我希望第一个满足这种的需要。”

That was the period of our lives when we had least contact. I wrote to Albus, describing, perhaps insensitively, the wonders of my journey, from narrow escapes from chimaeras in Greece to the experiments of the Egyptian alchemists. His letters told me little of his day-to-day life, which I guessed to be frustratingly dull for such a brilliant wizard. Immersed in my own experiences, it was with horror that I heard, toward the end of my year’s travels, that yet another tragedy had struck the Dumbledores: the death of his sister, Ariana.

我提到最广为流传的埃非亚斯·多吉的评论，他是威森加摩的特别顾问，也是阿不思·邓布利多长期的朋友，他说“斯基特书里所包含的事实，还不如一张巧克力蛙卡片”。

Though Ariana had been in poor health for a long time, the blow, coming so soon after the loss of their mother, had a profound effect on both of her brothers. All those closest to Albus — and I count myself one of that lucky number — agree that Ariana’s death, and Albus’s feeling of personal responsibility for it (though, of course, he was guiltless), left their mark upon him forevermore.

斯基特仰天大笑。

I returned home to find a young man who had experienced a much older person’s suffering. Albus was more reserved than before, and much less lighthearted. To add to his misery, the loss of Ariana had led, not to a renewed closeness between Albus and Aberforth, but to an estrangement. (In time this would lift — in later years they reestablished, if not a close relationship, then certainly a cordial one.) However, he rarely spoke of his parents or of Ariana from then on, and his friends learned not to mention them.

“可爱的老滑头！（英语里多吉（Doge）与滑头（Dodgy）的读音相近。）我记得我几年前为了人鱼权益的问题采访过他，老天保佑他吧。整个儿一个老糊涂，好像以为我们坐在温德米尔湖（英国中西部坎布里亚郡内的湖泊）的湖底，不停地叫我提防鲑鱼。”

Other quills will describe the triumphs of the following years. Dumbledore’s innumerable contributions to the store of Wizarding knowledge, including

可是，许多媒体都转载了埃非亚斯·多吉指责传记错误百出的话。难道斯基特真的觉得短短四个星期就足以充分描绘邓布利多漫长而极不平凡的一生吗？

his discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood,

“哦，亲爱的，”斯基特笑容满面地说，一边亲切地拍拍我的手，“你和我一样清楚，有了一袋沉甸甸的金加隆，一股打破砂锅问到底的劲头，还有一支漂亮而锋利的速记羽毛笔，就能套出多少情报来呀！而且，人们都排着队要说邓布利多的闲话呢。你知道，并不是人人都认为他有那么出色——他得罪了太多重要人物。不过，老滑头多吉可以从他高高在上的鹰头马身有翼兽上下来了，因为我找到了大多数记者愿意用魔杖交换的消息来源：此人以前从未当众发表过讲话，却在邓布利多极其动荡不安的青年时代与他关系密切。”

will benefit generations to come, as will the wisdom

斯基特这部传记的新书广告明确提出，对于那些相信邓布利多一生白璧无瑕的人们来说，等待他们的将是强烈的震惊。那么，她发现的最令人惊诧的秘密是什么呢？

he displayed in the many judgments he made while

“行啦，别说了，贝蒂，在大家买到书前，我是不会把最精彩的内容透露出来的！”斯基特大笑着说，“不过我可以保证，凡是仍然认为邓布利多像他的胡须一样清白的人，都会猛然从梦中惊醒！如此，那些听说他对神秘人义愤填膺的人，做梦也不会想到他本人年轻时就曾涉足黑魔法！他晚年呼吁宽容，年轻时却心胸狭隘！是的，阿不思·邓布利多有一个极为不可告人的过去，更不用说他那个非常可疑的家庭，对此他想尽办法，百般遮掩。”

Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. They say, still,

我问斯基特是不是指邓布利多的弟弟阿不福思，十五年前他因滥用魔法被威森加摩定罪，成为当时的一个小小的丑闻。

that no Wizarding duel ever matched that between

“噢，阿不福思只是粪堆的一角，”斯基特笑着说，“不是，不是，我谈论的事情比一个喜欢捉弄山羊的弟弟严重得多，甚至比那个残害麻瓜的父亲还要严重——他们都受到过威森加摩的指控，所以邓布利多不可能把这两件事遮掩住。不，激起我好奇心的是他的母亲和妹妹，我稍加挖掘，发现了一连串肮脏的事情——不过，我说过了，欲知详情，你需要阅读第九章到第十二章。我现在所能说的是，怪不得邓布利多从来闭口不谈他的鼻子是怎么破的。”

Dumbledore and Grindelwald in 1945. Those who

尽管有这些家丑，难道斯基特能够否认邓布利多做出重大魔法发现的出色才华吗？

witnessed it have written of the terror and the awe

“噢，我真高兴你提到了格林德沃，”斯基特露出一个挑逗性的微笑，“那些轻信邓布利多取得辉煌胜利的人们恐怕要做好准备，迎接一个炸弹——说不定是个粪蛋呢。非常肮脏的交易。我只想说，千万别相信真有那场传奇般的惊人决斗。人们读了我的书，便不得不认定格林德沃只是从魔杖尖上变出一块白手帕，就偃旗息鼓了！”

they felt as they watched these two extraordinary

关于这个令人感兴趣的话题，斯基特不肯透露更多的内容，于是我们转向那个无疑最能吸引读者的二人关系。

wizards do battle. Dumbledore’s triumph, and its

“噢，没错，”斯基特连连点头说，“我用整整一章详细描写了波特和邓布利多之间的关系。这种关系可以说是不健康的，甚至是邪恶的。读者也需要购买我的书才能知道全部故事，但是毫无疑问，邓布利多从一开始就对波特有一种不正常的兴趣。究竟是不是真的为了那个男孩考虑——咳，等着瞧吧。波特的青春期极为混乱动荡，这无疑已是一个公平的秘密。”

consequences for the Wizarding world, are consid-

我问斯基特是否还跟哈利·波特有联系，她去年对哈利·波特的采访尽人皆知：一篇突破性的文章，独家披露了波特宣称他确信神秘人已经回来。

ered a turning point in magical history to match the

“噢，是的，我们建立了很密切的关系，”斯基特说，“可怜的波特没有几个真正的朋友，我和他是在他人生最艰难的时刻——三强争霸赛期间相识的。我可以说是世上仅有几个堪称真正了解哈利·波特的人之一吧。”

introduction of the International Statute of Secrecy

话题自然而然地转向了围绕邓布利多最后时刻的许多传言。斯基特相信邓布利多死时波特在场吗？

or the downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

“哦，我不想说得太多——书里都写着呢——可是霍格沃茨城堡里的目击者看到，在邓布利多或失足跌落、或自己跳楼、或被人推下去的片刻之后，波特匆匆从现场逃离。波特后来证明西弗勒斯·斯内普是凶手，众所周知，他对此人一直怀恨在心，一切都像表面上那样吗？且让巫师界自己做出判断吧——在读完我的书后。”

Albus Dumbledore was never proud or vain; he

她说完这句吊人胃口的话，我就告辞了。毫无疑问，斯基特的书立刻就会畅销。而邓布利多的大批崇拜者大概会怕得发抖，不知他们心目中的英雄会有什么事将被披露出来。

could find something to value in anyone, however

哈利看完文章，眼睛仍然呆呆地望着报纸，心头的厌恶和愤怒直往上翻。他把报纸揉成一团，使劲往墙上砸去，报纸落在满得溢出来的垃圾箱周围的废物堆里。

apparently insignificant or wretched, and I believe

他开始漫无目的地在房间里走来走去，拉开空抽屉，拿起几本书看看，又把它们放回原处，几乎不知道自己在做什么，丽塔文章里的片言只语在他脑海里回响：用整整一章详细描写了波特和邓布利多之间的关系……这种关系可以说是不健康的，甚至是邪恶的。……他本人年轻时就曾涉足黑魔法……我找到了大多数记者愿意用魔杖交换的消息来源……

that his early losses endowed him with great human-

“谎言！”哈利吼道，窗外，他看见停下来发动割草机的隔壁邻居不安地抬头张望。

ity and sympathy. I shall miss his friendship more

哈利一屁股坐在床上，破碎的镜片从他身边弹开。他拿起镜片，捏在手指间翻看，陷入了沉思，他想到了邓布利多，想到了丽塔·斯基特诽谤他的那些不实之词……

than I can say, but my loss is as nothing compared to

一道明亮的蓝光一闪。哈利怔住了，受伤的手指又滑过不齐的镜片边缘。错觉，肯定是错觉。他扭头看看，墙纸是佩妮姨妈挑选的令人恶心的桃色，没有蓝色的东西让镜片反射蓝光呀。他又朝碎镜片里望去，只看见自己的一双亮晶晶的绿眼睛。

the Wizarding world’s. That he was the most inspir-

准是错觉，没有别的解释。因为他一直想着已故的校长，才产生了这样的错觉。要说有一点是肯定的，那就是阿不思·邓布利多那双明亮的蓝眼睛再也不会犀利地盯着他了。

ing and the best loved of all Hogwarts headmasters

cannot be in question. He died as he lived: working

always for the greater good and, to his last hour, as

willing to stretch out a hand to a small boy with

dragon pox as he was on the day that I met him.

Harry finished reading but continued to gaze at the picture accompanying the obituary. Dumbledore was wearing his familiar, kindly smile, but as he peered over the top of his half-moon spectacles, he gave the impression, even in newsprint, of X-raying Harry, whose sadness mingled with a sense of humiliation.

He had thought he knew Dumbledore quite well, but ever since reading this obituary he had been forced to recognize that he had barely known him at all. Never once had he imagined Dumbledore’s childhood or youth; it was as though he had sprung into being as Harry had known him, venerable and silver-haired and old. The idea of a teenage Dumbledore was simply odd, like trying to imagine a stupid Hermione or a friendly Blast-Ended Skrewt.

He had never thought to ask Dumbledore about his past. No doubt it would have felt strange, impertinent even, but after all, it had been common knowledge that Dumbledore had taken part in that legendary duel with Grindelwald, and Harry had not thought to ask Dumbledore what that had been like, nor about any of his other famous achievements. No, they had always discussed Harry, Harry’s past, Harry’s future, Harry’s plans . . . and it seemed to Harry now, despite the fact that his future was so dangerous and so uncertain, that he had missed irreplaceable opportunities when he had failed to ask Dumbledore more about himself, even though the only personal question he had ever asked his headmaster was also the only one he suspected that Dumbledore had not answered honestly:

“What do you see when you look in the mirror?”

“I ? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks.”

After several minutes’ thought, Harry tore the obituary out of the Prophet, folded it carefully, and tucked it inside the first volume of Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts. Then he threw the rest of the newspaper onto the rubbish pile and turned to face the room. It was much tidier. The only things left out of place were today’s Daily Prophet, still lying on the bed, and on top of it, the piece of broken mirror.

Harry moved across the room, slid the mirror fragment off today’s Prophet, and unfolded the newspaper. He had merely glanced at the headline when he had taken the rolled-up paper from the delivery owl early that morning and thrown it aside, after noting that it said nothing about Voldemort. Harry was sure that the Ministry was leaning on the Prophet to suppress news about Voldemort. It was only now, therefore, that he saw what he had missed.

Across the bottom half of the front page a smaller headline was set over a picture of Dumbledore striding along looking harried:

DUMBLEDORE — THE TRUTH AT LAST?

Coming next week, the shocking story of the flawed

genius considered by many to be the greatest wizard

of his generation. Stripping away the popular image

of serene, silver-bearded wisdom, Rita Skeeter reveals

the disturbed childhood, the lawless youth, the life-

long feuds, and the guilty secrets that Dumbledore

carried to his grave. WHY was the man tipped to be

Minister of Magic content to remain a mere head-

master? WHAT was the real purpose of the secret

organization known as the Order of the Phoenix?

HOW did Dumbledore really meet his end?

The answers to these and many more questions

are explored in the explosive new biography, The

Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore, by Rita Skeeter,

exclusively interviewed by Betty Braithwaite, page

13, inside.

Harry ripped open the paper and found page thirteen. The article was topped with a picture showing another familiar face: a woman wearing jeweled glasses with elaborately curled blonde hair, her teeth bared in what was clearly supposed to be a winning smile, wiggling her fingers up at him. Doing his best to ignore this nauseating image, Harry read on.

In person, Rita Skeeter is much warmer and

softer than her famously ferocious quill-portraits

might suggest. Greeting me in the hallway of her

cozy home, she leads me straight into the kitchen

for a cup of tea, a slice of pound cake and, it goes

without saying, a steaming vat of freshest gossip.

“Well, of course, Dumbledore is a biographer’s

dream,” says Skeeter. “Such a long, full life. I’m sure

my book will be the first of very, very many.”

Skeeter was certainly quick off the mark. Her

nine-hundred-page book was completed a mere four

weeks after Dumbledore’s mysterious death in June.

I ask her how she managed this superfast feat.

“Oh, when you’ve been a journalist as long as

I have, working to a deadline is second nature. I

knew that the Wizarding world was clamoring for

the full story and I wanted to be the first to meet

that need.”

I mention the recent, widely publicized remarks of Elphias Doge, Special Advisor to the Wizengamot and longstanding friend of Albus Dumbledore’s, that “Skeeter’s book contains less fact than a Chocolate Frog card.”

Skeeter throws back her head and laughs.

“Darling Dodgy! I remember interviewing him a few years back about merpeople rights, bless him. Completely gaga, seemed to think we were sitting at the bottom of Lake Windermere, kept telling me to watch out for trout.”

And yet Elphias Doge’s accusations of inaccuracy have been echoed in many places. Does Skeeter really feel that four short weeks have been enough to gain a full picture of Dumbledore’s long and extraordinary life?

“Oh, my dear,” beams Skeeter, rapping me affectionately across the knuckles, “you know as well as I do how much information can be generated by a fat bag of Galleons, a refusal to hear the word ‘no,’ and a nice sharp Quick-Quotes Quill! People were queuing to dish the dirt on Dumbledore anyway. Not everyone thought he was so wonderful, you know — he trod on an awful lot of important toes. But old Dodgy Doge can get off his high hippogriff, because I’ve had access to a source most journalists would swap their wands for, one who has never spoken in public before and who was close to Dumbledore during the most turbulent and disturbing phase of his youth.”

The advance publicity for Skeeter’s biography has certainly suggested that there will be shocks in store for those who believe Dumbledore to have led a blameless life. What were the biggest surprises she uncovered, I ask?

“Now, come off it, Betty, I’m not giving away all the highlights before anybody’s bought the book!” laughs Skeeter. “But I can promise that anybody who still thinks Dumbledore was white as his beard is in for a rude awakening! Let’s just say that nobody hearing him rage against You-Know-Who would have dreamed that he dabbled in the Dark Arts himself in his youth! And for a wizard who spent his later years pleading for tolerance, he wasn’t exactly broad-minded when he was younger! Yes, Albus Dumbledore had an extremely murky past, not to mention that very fishy family, which he worked so hard to keep hushed up.”

I ask whether Skeeter is referring to Dumbledore’s brother, Aberforth, whose conviction by the Wizengamot for misuse of magic caused a minor scandal fifteen years ago.

“Oh, Aberforth is just the tip of the dung heap,” laughs Skeeter. “No, no, I’m talking about much worse than a brother with a fondness for fiddling about with goats, worse even than the Mugglemaiming father — Dumbledore couldn’t keep either of them quiet anyway, they were both charged by the Wizengamot. No, it’s the mother and the sister that intrigued me, and a little digging uncovered a positive nest of nastiness — but, as I say, you’ll have to wait for chapters nine to twelve for full details. All I can say now is, it’s no wonder Dumbledore never talked about how his nose got broken.”

Family skeletons notwithstanding, does Skeeter deny the brilliance that led to Dumbledore’s many magical discoveries?

“He had brains,” she concedes, “although many now question whether he could really take full credit for all of his supposed achievements. As I reveal in chapter sixteen, Ivor Dillonsby claims he had already discovered eight uses of dragon’s blood when Dumbledore ‘borrowed’ his papers.”

But the importance of some of Dumbledore’s achievements cannot, I venture, be denied. What of his famous defeat of Grindelwald?

“Oh, now, I’m glad you mentioned Grindelwald,” says Skeeter with a tantalizing smile. “I’m afraid those who go dewy-eyed over Dumbledore’s spectacular victory must brace themselves for a bombshell — or perhaps a Dungbomb. Very dirty business indeed. All I’ll say is, don’t be so sure that there really was the spectacular duel of legend. After they’ve read my book, people may be forced to conclude that Grindelwald simply conjured a white handkerchief from the end of his wand and came quietly!”

Skeeter refuses to give any more away on this intriguing subject, so we turn instead to the relationship that will undoubtedly fascinate her readers more than any other.

“Oh yes,” says Skeeter, nodding briskly, “I devote an entire chapter to the whole Potter-Dumbledore relationship. It’s been called unhealthy, even sinister. Again, your readers will have to buy my book for the whole story, but there is no question that Dumbledore took an unnatural interest in Potter from the word go. Whether that was really in the boy’s best interests — well, we’ll see. It’s certainly an open secret that Potter has had a most troubled adolescence.”

I ask whether Skeeter is still in touch with Harry Potter, whom she so famously interviewed last year: a breakthrough piece in which Potter spoke exclusively of his conviction that You-Know-Who had returned.

“Oh, yes, we’ve developed a close bond,” says Skeeter. “Poor Potter has few real friends, and we met at one of the most testing moments of his life — the Triwizard Tournament. I am probably one of the only people alive who can say that they know the real Harry Potter.”

Which leads us neatly to the many rumors still circulating about Dumbledore’s final hours. Does Skeeter believe that Potter was there when Dumbledore died?

“Well, I don’t want to say too much — it’s all in the book — but eyewitnesses inside Hogwarts castle

saw Potter running away from the scene moments

after Dumbledore fell, jumped, or was pushed. Pot-

ter later gave evidence against Severus Snape, a man

against whom he has a notorious grudge. Is every-

thing as it seems? That is for the Wizarding com-

munity to decide — once they’ve read my book.”

On that intriguing note, I take my leave. There

can be no doubt that Skeeter has quilled an instant

bestseller. Dumbledore’s legions of admirers, mean-

while, may well be trembling at what is soon to

emerge about their hero.

Harry reached the bottom of the article, but continued to stare blankly at the page. Revulsion and fury rose in him like vomit; he balled up the newspaper and threw it, with all his force, at the wall, where it joined the rest of the rubbish heaped around his overflowing bin.

He began to stride blindly around the room, opening empty drawers and picking up books only to replace them on the same piles, barely conscious of what he was doing, as random phrases from Rita’s article echoed in his head: An entire chapter to the whole PotterDumbledore relationship . . . It’s been called unhealthy, even sinister. . . . He dabbled in the Dark Arts himself in his youth . . . I’ve had access to a source most journalists would swap their wands for . . .

“Lies!” Harry bellowed, and through the window he saw the next-door neighbor, who had paused to restart his lawn mower, look up nervously.

Harry sat down hard on the bed. The broken bit of mirror danced away from him; he picked it up and turned it over in his fingers, thinking, thinking of Dumbledore and the lies with which Rita Skeeter was defaming him. . . .

A flash of brightest blue. Harry froze, his cut finger slipping on the jagged edge of the mirror again. He had imagined it, he must have done. He glanced over his shoulder, but the wall was a sickly peach color of Aunt Petunia’s choosing: There was nothing blue there for the mirror to reflect. He peered into the mirror fragment again, and saw nothing but his own bright green eye looking back at him.

He had imagined it, there was no other explanation; imagined it, because he had been thinking of his dead headmaster. If anything was certain, it was that the bright blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore would never pierce him again.