Chapter 17 The Man With Two Faces

It was Quirrell.
“You!” gasped Harry.
Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all.
“Me,” he said calmly. “I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter.”
“But I thought — Snape—”
“Severus?” Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, either, but cold and sharp. “Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?”
Harry couldn't take it in. This couldn't be true, it couldn't.
“But Snape tried to kill me!”
“No, no, no. I tried to kill you. Your friend Miss Granger accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. She broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I'd have got you off that broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn't been muttering a countercurse, trying to save you.”
“Snape was trying to save me?”
“Of course,” said Quirrell coolly. “Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny, really… he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he did make himself unpopular… and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you tonight.”
Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry.
“You're too nosy to live, Potter. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone.”
“You let the troll in?”
“Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls — you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off — and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly.
“Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror.”
It was only then that Harry realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised.
“This mirror is the key to finding the Stone,” Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. “Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this… but he's in London… I'll be far away by the time he gets back…”
All Harry could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror.
“I saw you and Snape in the forest — ” he blurted out.
“Yes,” said Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. “He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me — as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side…”
Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it.
“I see the Stone… I'm presenting it to my master… but where is it?”
Harry struggled against the ropes binding him, but they didn't give. He had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror.
“But Snape always seemed to hate me so much.”
“Oh, he does,” said Quirrell casually, “heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted you dead.”
“But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing — I thought Snape was threatening you…”
For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face.
“Sometimes,” he said, “I find it hard to follow my master's instructions — he is a great wizard and I am weak—”
“You mean he was there in the classroom with you?” Harry gasped.
“He is with me wherever I go,” said Quirrell quietly. “I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it… Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me.” Quirrell shivered suddenly. “He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me… decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me…”
Quirrell's voice trailed away. Harry was remembering his trip to Diagon Alley — how could he have been so stupid? He'd seen Quirrell there that very day, shaken hands with him in the Leaky Cauldron.
Quirrell cursed under his breath.
“I don't understand… is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?”
Harry's mind was racing.
What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment, he thought, is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. So if I look in the mirror, I should see myself finding it — which means I'll see where it's hidden! But how can I look without Quirrell realizing what I'm up to?
He tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around his ankles were too tight: he tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored him. He was still talking to himself.
“What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!”
And to Harry's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself.
“Use the boy… Use the boy…”
Quirrell rounded on Harry.
“Yes — Potter — come here.”
He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry got slowly to his feet.
“Come here,” Quirrell repeated. “Look in the mirror and tell me what you see.”
Harry walked toward him.
I must lie, he thought desperately . I must look and lie about what I see, that's all.
Quirrell moved close behind him. Harry breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in front of the mirror, and opened them again.
He saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket — and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket. Somehow — incredibly — he'd gotten the Sone.
“Well?” said Quirrell impatiently. “What do you see?”
Harry screwed up his courage.
“I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore,” he invented. “I — I've won the house cup for Gryffindor.”
Quirrell cursed again.
“Get out of the way,” he said. As Harry moved aside, he felt the Sorcerer's Stone against his leg. Dare he make a break for it?
But he hadn't walked five paces before a high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn't moving his lips.
“He lies… He lies…”
“Potter, come back here!” Quirrell shouted. “Tell me the truth! What did you just see?”
The high voice spoke again.
“Let me speak to him… face-to-face…”
“Master, you are not strong enough!”
“I have strength enough… for this…”
Harry felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting him to the spot. He couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, he watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot.
Harry would have screamed, but he couldn't make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.
“Harry Potter… ” it whispered.
Harry tried to take a step backward but his legs wouldn't move.
“See what I have become?” the face said. “Mere shadow and vapor… I have form only when I can share another's body… but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds… Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks… you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest… and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own… Now… why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?”
So he knew. The feeling suddenly surged back into Harry's legs. He stumbled backward.
“Don't be a fool,” snarled the face. “Better save your own life and join me… or you'll meet the same end as your parents… They died begging me for mercy…”
“LIAR!” Harry shouted suddenly.
Quirrell was walking backward at him, so that Voldemort could still see him. The evil face was now smiling.
“How touching… ” it hissed. “I always value bravery… Yes, boy, your parents were brave… I killed your father first; and he put up a courageous fight… but your mother needn't have died… she was trying to protect you… Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain.”
“NEVER!”
Harry sprang toward the flame door, but Voldemort screamed “SEIZE HIM!” and the next second, Harry felt Quirrell's hand close on his wrist. At once, a needle-sharp pain seared across Harry's scar; his head felt as though it was about to split in two; he yelled, struggling with all his might, and to his surprise, Quirrell let go of him. The pain in his head lessened — he looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone, and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers — they were blistering before his eyes.
“Seize him! SEIZE HIM!” shrieked Voldemort again, and Quirrell lunged, knocking Harry clean off his feet landing on top of him, both hands around Harry's neck — Harry's scar was almost blinding him with pain, yet he could see Quirrell howling in agony.
“Master, I cannot hold him — my hands — my hands!”
And Quirrell, though pinning Harry to the ground with his knees, let go of his neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms — Harry could see they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny.
“Then kill him, fool, and be done!” screeched Voldemort.
Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Harry, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face —
“AAAARGH!”
Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering, too, and then Harry knew: Quirrell couldn't touch his bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain — his only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from doing a curse.
Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off — the pain in Harry's head was building — he couldn't see — he could only hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of, “KILL HIM! KILL HIM!” and other voices, maybe in Harry's own head, crying, “Harry! Harry!”
He felt Quirrell's arm wrenched from his grasp, knew all was lost, and fell into blackness, down… down… down…
Something gold was glinting just above him. The Snitch! He tried to catch it, but his arms were too heavy.
He blinked. It wasn't the Snitch at all. It was a pair of glasses. How strange.
He blinked again. The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view above him.
“Good afternoon, Harry,” said Dumbledore.
Harry stared at him. Then he remembered: “Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! He's got the Stone! Sir, quick—”
“Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times,” said Dumbledore. “Quirrell does not have the Stone.”
“Then who does? Sir, I—”
“Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out.”
Harry swallowed and looked around him. He realized he must be in the hospital wing. He was lying in a bed with white linen sheets, and next to him was a table piled high with what looked like half the candy shop.
“Tokens from your friends and admirers,” said Dumbledore, beaming. “What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it.”

“How long have I been in here?”

“Three days. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried.”

“But sir, the Stone—”

“I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to prevent that, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say.”

“You got there? You got Hermione's owl?”

“We must have crossed in midair. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you.”

“It was you.”
“I feared I might be too late.”
“You nearly were, I couldn't have kept him off the Stone much longer -”
“Not the Stone, boy, you — the effort involved nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed.”
“Destroyed?” said Harry blankly. “But your friend — Nicolas Flamel—”
“Oh, you know about Nicolas?” said Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted. “You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best.”
“But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?”
“They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die.”
Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement on Harry's face.
“To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all — the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them.”
Harry lay there, lost for words. Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling.
“Sir?” said Harry. “I've been thinking… sir — even if the Stone's gone, Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who—”
“Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.”
“Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?”
“No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share… not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time — and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power.”
Harry nodded, but stopped quickly, because it made his head hurt. Then he said, “Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me… things I want to know the truth about…”
“The truth.” Dumbledore sighed. “It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie.”
“Well… Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?”
Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time.
“Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day… put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are older… I know you hate to hear this… when you are ready, you will know.”
And Harry knew it would be no good to argue.
“But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?”
“Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign… to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good.”
Dumbledore now became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, which gave Harry time to dry his eyes on the sheet. When he had found his voice again, Harry said, “And the invisibility cloak — do you know who sent it to me?”
“Ah — your father happened to leave it in my possession, and I thought you might like it.” Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. “Useful things… your father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here.”
“And there's something else…”
“Fire away.”
“Quirrell said Snape—”
“Professor Snape, Harry.”
“Yes, him — Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?”
“Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and Mr. Malfoy. And then, your father did something Snape could never forgive.”
“What?”
“He saved his life.”
“What ?”
“Yes… ” said Dumbledore dreamily. “Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your father's debt… I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father's memory in peace…”
Harry tried to understand this but it made his head pound, so he stopped.
“And sir, there's one more thing…”
“Just the one?”
“How did I get the Stone out of the mirror?”
“Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone — find it, but not use it — would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes… Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit flavored one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them — but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?”
He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, “Alas! Ear wax!”
Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was a nice woman, but very strict.
“Just five minutes,” Harry pleaded.
“Absolutely not.”
“You let Professor Dumbledore in…”
“Well, of course, that was the headmaster, quite different. You need rest.”
“I am resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey…”
“Oh, very well,” she said. “But five minutes only.”
And she let Ron and Hermione in.
“Harry!”
Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around him again, but Harry was glad she held herself in as his head was still very sore.
“Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to — Dumbledore was so worried—”
“The whole school's talking about it,” said Ron. “What really happened?”
It was one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more strange and exciting than the wild rumors. Harry told them everything: Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. Ron and Hermione were a very good audience; they gasped in all the right places, and when Harry told them what was under Quirrell's turban, Hermione screamed out loud.
“So the Stone's gone?” said Ron finally. “Flamel's just going to die ?”
“That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that — what was it? — ‘to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.'”
“I always said he was off his rocker,” said Ron, looking quite impressed at how crazy his hero was.
“So what happened to you two?” said Harry.
“Well, I got back all right,” said Hermione. “I brought Ron round — that took a while — and we were dashing up to the owlery to contact Dumbledore when we met him in the entrance hall — he already knew — he just said, ‘Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?’ and hurtled off to the third floor.”
“D'you think he meant you to do it?” said Ron. “Sending you your father's cloak and everything?”
“Well,” Hermione exploded, “if he did — I mean to say that's terrible — you could have been killed.”
“No, it isn't,” said Harry thoughtfully. “He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could…”
“Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right,” said Ron proudly. “Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course — you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you — but the food'll be good.”
At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over.
“You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT” she said firmly.
After a good night's sleep, Harry felt nearly back to normal.
“I want to go to the feast,” he told Madam Pomfrey as she straightened his many candy boxes. “I can, can't I?”
“Professor Dumbledore says you are to be allowed to go,” she said stiffly, as though in her opinion Professor Dumbledore didn't realize how risky feasts could be. “And you have another visitor.”
“Oh, good,” said Harry. “Who is it?”
Hagrid sidled through the door as he spoke. As usual when he was indoors, Hagrid looked too big to be allowed. He sat down next to Harry, took one look at him, and burst into tears.
“It's — all — my — ruddy — fault!” he sobbed, his face in his hands. I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only thing he didn't know, an’ I told him! Yeh could've died! All fer a dragon egg! I'll never drink again! I should be chucked out an’ made ter live as a Muggle!”
“Hagrid!” said Harry, shocked to see Hagrid shaking with grief and remorse, great tears leaking down into his beard. “Hagrid, he'd have found out somehow, this is Voldemort we're talking about, he'd have found out even if you hadn't told him.”
“Yeh could've died!” sobbed Hagrid. “An’ don’ say the name!”
“VOLDEMORT!” Harry bellowed, and Hagrid was so shocked, he stopped crying. “I've met him and I'm calling him by his name. Please cheer up, Hagrid, we saved the Stone, it's gone, he can't use it. Have a Chocolate Frog, I've got loads…”
Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, “That reminds me. I've got yeh a present.”
“It's not a stoat sandwich, is it?” said Harry anxiously, and at last Hagrid gave a weak chuckle.
“Nah. Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it. ‘course, he shoulda sacked me instead — anyway, got yeh this…”
It seemed to be a handsome, leather-covered book. Harry opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from every page were his mother and father.
“Sent owls off ter all yer parents’ old school friends, askin’ fer photos… knew yeh didn’ have any… d'yeh like it?”
Harry couldn't speak, but Hagrid understood.
Harry made his way down to the end-of-year feast alone that night. He had been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing about, insisting on giving him one last checkup, so the Great Hall was already full. It was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.
When Harry walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once. He slipped into a seat between Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table and tried to ignore the fact that people were standing up to look at him.
Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away.
“Another year gone!” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts…
“Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two.”
A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Harry could see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight.
“Yes, Yes, well done, Slytherin,” said Dumbledore. “However, recent events must be taken into account.”
The room went very still. The Slytherins’ smiles faded a little.
“Ahem,” said Dumbledore. “I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes…
“First — to Mr. Ronald Weasley…”
Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn.
“… for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points.”
Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, “My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!”
At last there was silence again.
“Second — to Miss Hermione Granger… for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points.”
Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harry strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves — they were a hundred points up.
“Third — to Mr. Harry Potter… ” said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. “… for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points.”
The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points — exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the house cup — if only Dumbledore had given Harry just one more point.
Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.
“There are all kinds of courage,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom.”
Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him.
“Which means,” Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, “we need a little change of decoration.”
He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile. He caught Harry's eye and Harry knew at once that Snape's feelings toward him hadn't changed one jot. This didn't worry Harry. It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts.
It was the best evening of Harry's life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls… he would never, ever forget tonight.
Harry had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. To their great surprise, both he and Ron passed with good marks; Hermione, of course, had the best grades of the first years. Even Neville scraped through, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions one. They had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, might be thrown out, but he had passed, too. It was a shame, but as Ron said, you couldn't have everything in life.
And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, Neville's toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays ("I always hope they'll forget to give us these,” said Fred Weasley sadly); Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as they sped past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station.
It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform. A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and threes so they didn't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.
“You must come and stay this summer,” said Ron, “both of you — I'll send you an owl.”
“Thanks,” said Harry, “I'll need something to look forward to.” People jostled them as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:
“Bye, Harry!”
“See you, Potter!”
“Still famous,” said Ron, grinning at him.
“Not where I'm going, I promise you,” said Harry.
He, Ron, and Hermione passed through the gateway together. “There he is, Mom, there he is, look!”
It was Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, but she wasn't pointing at Ron.
“Harry Potter!” she squealed. “Look, Mom! I can see—”
“Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point.”
Mrs. Weasley smiled down at them.
“Busy year?” she said.
“Very,” said Harry. “Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley.”
“Oh, it was nothing, dear.”
“Ready, are you?”
It was Uncle Vernon, still purple-faced, still mustached, still looking furious at the nerve of Harry, carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of Harry.
“You must be Harry's family!” said Mrs. Weasley.
“In a manner of speaking,” said Uncle Vernon. “Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day.” He walked away.
Harry hung back for a last word with Ron and Hermione.
“See you over the summer, then.”
“Hope you have — er — a good holiday,” said Hermione, looking uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant.
“Oh, I will,” said Harry, and they were surprised at the grin that was spreading over his face. “They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer…
那个竟然是屈拉。
　　"是你！"哈利大惊。
　　屈拉在笑。但睑部肌肉一点也没有动。
　　"是我，"他淡淡地说。"我还怀疑过究竟可不可以在这儿遇见你呢，波特。""但，我还以为是史纳皮——"
　　"史纳皮？"屈拉又笑了。但却不是平时的高声大笑，而是既尖锐又冷酷。
　　"是的，史纳皮的确值得怀疑。有他像老鼠一样四处分散注意力真是十分有用。没有他，谁会去怀疑可——可——可怜、结——结——巴巴的屈拉教——教授呢？"哈利无法接受这个事实。这不会是真的，绝不会！
　　"但史纳皮曾经想杀掉我！"
　　"不，不对。是我想杀掉你。你的朋友格林佐小姐在那场快迪斯比赛中向史纳皮放火时不小心把我碰倒了。你和他把我的隐形眼镜给打破了。再多几秒我就要把你从扫帚上弄下来的，可史纳皮在这时念了一个对抗咒语，救了你。""史纳皮要救我？"
　　"当然了，要不他为什么要在你的下一场比赛中当裁判呢？他是为了不让我有机会再下手。哼，真有趣……"屈拉冷冷地说。
　　"其实他根本无需这样做，因为有丹伯多在看着，我根本就不敢干什么。所有人都以为史纳皮在阻挠格林芬顿获胜，而他也为此不受欢迎……唉，多么浪费时间啊！怎样也好，我还是可以在今天晚上杀了你。"屈拉弹了弹手指，一根绳子忽然出现，把哈利捆得结结实实。
　　"你太爱多管闲事了，波特。你万圣节时在校园里乱走，一定见到了我吧，那时我在查看那块石头是被什么守卫着呢。""是你让那洞窟巨人出来的吗？"
　　"当然了。我有应付洞窟巨人的特别天分——你一定已经看到了我对前一间房里的那一个做了些什么了吧。可是在每个人都四处奔走着去找它的时候，史纳皮却早已怀疑我了，他直接上三楼来找我——可惜我的洞窟巨人居然没有把你打死，连那只三头犬也没有把史纳皮的腿撕裂。真是可惜！""好了，波特，安静地等着我吧。我要去看看这块有趣的镜子了。"直到这时哈利才发现有块镶着框的大镜子放在屈拉身后。
　　"这块镜子是找到点金石的关键，"屈拉喃喃自语，在镜框旁边走动着，"我肯定丹伯多可以提供一些线索……可惜，他现在还在伦敦，等到他回来的时候我早已经走得远远的了……"现在哈利可以做的只能够是尽量让屈拉多说些话，别让他把注意力集中在研究那块镜子上。
　　"我见到你和史纳皮在那片森林里——"他不加思索地说。
　　"对呀，"屈拉一边绕着镜子转，一边心不在焉地应他。"就是在那次他发现了我，想看看我已经走到哪一步了。其实一直以来他都在怀疑我的，以为他可以吓到我，却不知道我有福尔得摩特公爵在身边。"屈拉从那块镜子后面走了出来，贪婪地盯着它看，说："我已经看到那块石头了！我要报告给我的主人知道……但是，究竟要怎样才能拿到它呢？"哈刮拼命地想挣脱绳索，但它却捆得十分紧，于是唯有尽量分散屈拉的注意力。
　　"但史纳皮总是一副很讨厌我的样子。"
　　"噢，他的确很讨厌你，"屈拉懒洋洋地说："你不知道吗，他跟你父亲一起在霍格瓦彻里的时候，就已经互相厌恶对方了。但他一点儿也不想你死。""但我在前些日子听到你在哭——我还以为史纳皮在威胁你……"第一次，一阵突发的恐惧掠过屈拉的面孔。"有时候，"他小声地说，"我发觉要听从我主人的教诲是很难的——他是一个伟大的巫师，而我又太弱了。""你是说，那时候他是跟你一起在课室里的？"哈利倒抽了一口凉气。
　　"他每时每刻都跟我在一起，"屈拉平静地说。"我在环游世界的时候遇到了他。那时候的我只是一个愚蠢的年轻人，脑袋里装满了一些奇奇怪怪的关于善与恶的观点。是福尔得摩特公爵使我认识到我是多么的错误和无知。实际上善与恶是不存在的，只有力量才是最重要，而那些弱者就应该……从那时开始我就忠心耿耿地跟随着他了，虽然我也曾经拒绝过他几次，因为他对我实在是太严厉了。"屈拉忽然声音发颤地说，"他不肯轻易原谅我的过失。当我没有从格林高斯把石头偷出来时，他生气极了，狠狠地惩罚了我……
　　决定以后更加严密地监视着我……"屈拉的声音缓缓消散，哈利不由得想起他在戴阿宫道的时候——他怎么会那样愚蠢呢？那天不是明明在那儿见到屈拉了，还跟他在漏锅店里握手呢。
　　"真是难找……那块石头是在镜子里吗？我要不要打碎它呢？"屈拉气鼓鼓地咒骂了一声。
　　哈利脑筋在飞转。
　　现在我最迫切要做的事，就是赶在屈拉之前找到点金石，如果我可以往镜里看的话，我应该会见到它在里面——那就意味着有机会找出它究竟藏在哪里！但是我又怎样在屈拉不留神的情况下看那块镜子一眼呢？
　　他努力地向左边的方向移动，这样他就能够在屈拉不察觉的情况下来到镜子面前了。可是那根绳实在绑得太紧了，他一失足就跌倒在地。好在屈拉已经忘记了他，还在一个劲地自言自语。
　　"这面镜子用来干什么的呢？究竟要怎样利用它呢？主人，快帮帮我吧！"令哈利毛骨悚然的是，有一种声音回答了，而那声音竟像是从屈拉身上发出来的！
　　"利用那个男孩……利用那个男孩……"
　　屈拉转向哈利。
　　"对了——波特——过来这儿。"
　　他拍了拍手，那条捆住哈利的绳就掉了下来。哈利慢慢地向他走去。
　　"快过来，"屈拉催促他。"看着这块镜子，然后告诉我你见到了什么。""我一定得撒谎。"哈利想，"我要在看了之后随便扯个谎，就这样！"屈拉从背后靠近了他，他马上闻到了一股好像来自屈拉头巾的怪味。
　　哈利闭上眼，走到镜子前面，然后睁开。
　　他首先见到自己的映像，有一张受到惊吓的苍白脸孔。然后那个映像向他微笑。
　　它把手伸进口袋，取出一块血红的石头，向哈利眨了眨眼，又把石头放回口袋。在它这样做的时候，哈利忽然觉得有一样很重的东西落入了他自己真的口袋里。那么——不可思议地——他得到那块点金石了！
　　"好了？"屈拉不耐烦地问。"你看到了什么？"哈利鼓足勇气说，"我见到自己在跟丹伯多校长握手，"他努力地在编谎言。
　　"我还为格林芬顿赢得了豪斯杯。"
　　屈拉又开始在咒骂了。
　　"快点滚开！"他喝道。哈利移开到一边——他现在可以感觉到点金石贴着自己的大腿了。他敢不敢用它来搏一搏呢？
　但他还没有走开几步，一把很尖的声音又从屈拉身上响了起来，而他却连嘴唇也不动一下。
　　"他在说谎，他在说谎……"
　　"波特快回来！"屈拉在喊。"快把真相告诉我！刚才你究竟见到了什么？"那把很尖的声音又响了起来。
　　"让我来跟他说……面对面地说……"
　　"主人，你的力量还不足够！"
　"我已经有足够的力量可以这样做了。"
　　哈利觉得仿佛又被"魔鬼的罗网"缠住了，全身不能动弹地被带到屈拉跟前。
　　慢慢地，屈拉解开他的头巾。接下来会发生什么事呢？哈利满怀恐惧地望着他。
　　那条头巾飘了下来。没有了头巾，屈拉的头变得异常地小。然后，他缓缓地把背朝向哈利。
　　哈利本来是应该尖叫的，可他已经什么声音都发不出来了。
　　在本来应该是屈拉后脑勺的地方，竟然长着一张脸孔！那是一张哈利见过的最可怖的面孔：粉笔般死白的脸上，嵌着一双闪着红光的小眼睛，鼻子是裂开的一道缝，活像一条蛇！
　　"哈利·波特……"它低声说。
　　哈利拼命地想向后退，但他的腿已经不听使唤了。
　　"看见我变成什么样子吗？"那张脸说，"我活得更加明暗和隐蔽了……我只能够和别人共用一个身体……但通常都有很多人愿意让我使用他们的心脏和思想…
　　…独角兽的血在这几个礼拜里不断地增加了我的力量……你不是看到我忠心的屈拉在森林里为我吸血吗？现在，只要我有了那块长生不老药，就可以制造出一个自己的身体了……你为什么还不把口袋里的那块石头交出来呢？"原来他是知道的！哈利的腿忽然一下子恢复了知觉，他向后倒退了好几步。
　　"别像个傻瓜似的再反抗了，"那面孔冷笑着说，"你最好救自己一命，加入我们。不然，你就会和你父母一样死无葬身之地……
　　他们临死还向我求饶呢……""你说谎！"哈利忽然大叫。
　　屈拉后退了几步，这样福尔得摩特就又来到哈利面前了，他那张极邪恶的脸正在笑着。
　　"多么感人啊……"它嘶嘶地说，"我一向都很欣赏勇气的，没错，孩子，你的父母十分勇敢……我是先杀你父亲的。他很勇敢地和我搏斗。但你母亲其实是用不着去死的，她是为了保护你……好了，把石头交给我吧，别让她为你白白送命…
　　…"
　　"绝不！"
　　哈利猛地向门口冲去，福尔得摩特大叫："抓住他！"然后，不到几秒钟，哈利就感觉到屈拉的手紧紧抓住他的手臂。同时，一阵像针刺一样的剧痛又袭向他前额的疤，他的头痛得好像快要裂开两边了！哈利呻吟着，用尽所有气力去挣扎。
　　奇怪的是，屈拉竟然自己弹开了！而他额上的头痛马上跟着好了点。他好奇地四处张望，看看屈拉去了哪里，却发现他痛苦地给缩成一团，望着自己的手指——那些手指在他眼里好像变得十分不可思议一样。
　　"抓住他！抓住他！"福尔得摩特又在大叫。屈拉一个箭步冲上来，把哈利踢倒，然后爬到他身上，双手叉他的脖子。这时哈利的疤又再痛得他快要晕过去了，同时，屈拉痛苦地狂号起来。
　　"主人，我抓不住他，我的手——我的手！"
　　这时的屈拉虽然用膝盖把哈利压在地上，他的手却已经放开了哈利的脖子。他正在迷惑地望着自己的手掌——哈利可以看到，那双手像被火烧过一样，又红又肿。
　　"那么，杀了他！快点，蠢材！"福尔得摩特尖声高叫。
　　屈拉举起手，想要作一个索命的恶咒，但哈利比他快很多，伸出手来，一把抓住了他的面孔。
　　"啊一啊一啊呀！"
　　屈拉怪叫着滚开了，他的脸孔也在痛苦扭曲着。于是哈利明白了：屈拉是不能碰他的皮肤的！一碰他就会痛得死去活来。现在唯一的机会就是控制住屈拉，让他一直痛着，念不了那个索命咒语。
　　哈利跳了起来，用尽所有气力抓住屈拉的手臂。屈拉惨叫着要甩掉哈利的手——但同时哈利的头痛也在不断加剧，他已经痛得看不见东西了，只能听到屈拉杀猪般的尖叫和福尔得摩特不停地喊："杀了他！杀了他！"，还有另一种声音，可能就在哈利自己的头里，叫着："哈利！哈利！"他感觉到屈拉的手臂已挣脱了自己，知道一切都完了，然后跌进了一片漆黑中，不停地向下沉……响下沉……
　　有一样金色的东西在他上面闪耀。史尼斯球！他想捉住它，但双臂却沉重得抬不起来。
　　他眨了眨眼。那根本就不是什么史尼斯球，而是一副眼镜。多么奇怪啊！
　　他再次眨了眨眼。忽然记起了。"先生！那块石头！是屈拉！
　　他偷了那块石头！先生，快点——""别着急，亲爱的孩子，你已经漏掉后面的情节了。"丹伯多说，"屈拉没有得到那块石。""那么谁得到了？先生——我——"
　　"哈利，放松一些，要不波姆弗雷夫人人会把我轰出去的！"哈利把话吞下肚子，开始四处打量着周围，意识到自己应该是在一间病房里：他正躺在一张铺着白色被单的床上，旁边有一张桌子，上面堆的糖果高得够开一间糖果店了。
　　"是你的朋友和仰慕者送给你的，"丹伯多和颜悦色地说，"虽然在地牢里你和屈拉教授之间究竟发生了什么事是一个秘密，但是全校人都知道这件事了。我想，你的朋友弗来德和乔治。威斯里先生本来是送了一张冲洗式便椅给你的，因为他们认为你一定会感兴趣。可是波姆弗雷夫人人认为它不卫生，就没收了它。'""我在这儿多久了？"
　　"三天了。罗恩和荷米恩看见你回来开心得不得了，他们十分担心你。""但是先生，那块石头——"
　　"我不想你再心烦意乱了。好吧，我说说那块石头。屈拉教授并没有从你身上拿走它，我及时赶到，并阻止了他。不过，我必须说，你已经做得非常棒了！""你赶到那儿了？你收到荷米恩的猫头鹰吗？""我们必须从头开始说起。我刚刚到达伦敦，忽然想起我是应该留在原地的，于是马上赶了回来——刚刚来得及把屈拉从你身上拉开——""原来是你！"
　　"我真怕我来迟了。"
　　"你差一点就来迟了，因为那时候我已经不能够再阻止他抢那块石了。""我不是说那块石，我是说你，孩子。你差一点就被杀掉了——而那块石，它已经被毁掉了。""毁了？"哈利茫然地重复。"可是你的朋友——尼古拉斯。弗兰马尔——""噢！你也认识尼古拉斯吗？"丹伯多很高兴地说。"你已经很好地处理了这件事，不是吗？别担心，我已经和尼古拉斯谈过了，他也认为这是最好的解决方法。""但，那就意味着他和他的妻子都得死！"
　　丹伯多微笑地望着哈利迷惑不解的表情。
　　"对于一个像你这样年轻的人来说，我知道你肯定会觉得不可思议。但对尼古拉斯和伯云妮来说，死亡只是像经过一整天的工作后，静静躺在睡觉一样平常。因为毕竟，对于有智慧的人来说，死亡只是第二次伟大的冒险。你要知道，那块石头其实并不像听起来那样神奇，可以无穷无尽地给你金钱和能量。那固然是很多人梦寐以求的东西——但问题是，人们却往往缺乏一种判别力，不知道他们追求的东西一样是会害了自己的。"哈利躺在那儿，已经忘了说话。
　　丹伯多停了下来，微笑着望向天花板。
　　"先生，"哈利说。"我在想——就算那块石头没有了，那个福尔得——我是指'那个人'——""喊他福尔得摩特，哈利。要准确地称呼所有一切事物。对名字的恐惧会令你对它本身也产生恐惧感的。""是，先生。福尔得摩特会想其他法子再回来的，对吗？我是说，他还没有走，对吗？""对，哈利。他的确还没有走，他仍然在某一个不知名的地方游荡着，或许正在寻找下一个身体来使用……因为它并不是真正活着，所以也不能够被杀死。它任由屈拉死去，对追随者就像对敌人一样冷酷无情。这么样也好，哈利，既然你可以阻止他重新获得力量，或者又会有哪个人像你一样跟他进行斗争，来阻止他重新获得力量呢——而他被阻止了一次，又再一次……他就可能永远都不能够成功。"哈利点头赞同，但马上又停了下来。因为象那样动一下又令他的头痛了起来。
　　然后，他说，"先生，我还有一些事很想知道。要是你肯告诉我的话，我想知道那……""真相是美丽而恐怖的，因此总是被给予过多的注意力。"丹伯多轻轻叹了口气。"除了因为特殊理由不能回答的之外，我一般都会回答你的问题的。""好的……福尔得魔特说他杀死我的母亲，完全是因为她想阻止他杀了我，可是他为什么一开始就想要先杀了我呢？"丹伯多这次又长长地叹了口气。
　　"很抱歉，你问我的第一件事我就不能够告诉你了——至少今天不能够。总有一天，你会知道的。现在先把它放在一边别去想它，哈利。到你长大一点的时候…
　　…我知道你讨厌听这些话，但一定要等到时机成熟了，你才可以知道。"于是哈利知道就算争辩下去也是没用的。他只好问另一个问题了。
　　"那么，为什么屈拉不可以碰到我的皮肤呢？""你的母亲牺牲了自己来救你。如果说有一种东西福尔得摩特理解不了的话，那就是爱了。他没有意识到，像你母亲对你那样强烈的爱是可以留下印记的。不是一个疤，而是一种无形的东西……
　　如果深深地被爱着的话，就算爱你的那个人不在了，那份爱都会永远庇护着你的，它已经凝结在你的皮肤上了。像屈拉那样充满仇恨、贪婪和欲望的人，是不能去碰一个被如此纯洁美好的东西印记过的人的。"丹伯多现在装作对窗外的一只鸟儿很感兴趣的样子来让哈利有时间偷偷地用被单来指眼泪。等到他的情绪恢复了平静，哈利说，"还有那件隐形被风，你知道是谁送给我的吗？""哦，那是你父亲留给你的东西，我想你肯定会喜欢它的。"丹伯多在说到他父亲的时候，眼睛闪动着光芒。"的确是很有用的东西，你父亲在的时候主要是用来隐形自己去厨房偷菜吃的。""我还有一件事不明白……"
　　"可不能说太多了。"
　　"屈拉说史纳皮——"
　　"应该叫史纳皮教授，哈利。"
　　"好的，他——屈拉说他讨厌我是因为讨厌我父亲，这是真的吗？""对，他们的确是互相厌恶的，就像你和马尔夫一样。而那原因是你父亲做了一件史纳皮永远都不会原谅的事。""什么事？"
　　"他救了史纳皮一命。"
　　"什么？"
　　"就是这样……"丹伯多像在做梦一样说着。"很奇怪，对吗？
　　这就是人们的心态了。史纳皮教授不能忍受他欠你父亲一份人情……所以我倒是相信他一直在努力地保护着你，因为这样做，他就会觉得和你父亲扯平了……"哈利尝试着去理解这番话，却被它弄得头昏眼花，于是他只好放弃努力了。
　　"还有，先生，有一件事……"
　　"只是一件？"
　　"我为什么可以从镜子中得到那块石头呢？"
　　"哈，我很高兴你终于问这个问题了。这可是我了不起的主意之一呢！是这样的，只有那些想找到石头而目的又不是利用它的人才可以得到它，否则他们就只会在镜中见到自己在炼金或者喝着所谓的长生不老药。你知道，有时我想出来的主意妙得连自己也大吃一惊呢！好了，够多问题了。我建议你快尝尝这些糖果吧。啊哈！
　　多味豆！真不幸，我年轻时候碰巧是一个闻到香味就会呕吐的人，而现在又对它们失去兴趣了——不过我想，吃一颗太妃糖还是很不错的，你要不要来一颗？"他笑着把棕黄色的糖投入口中，咀嚼了一下，大叫："哎呀呀！
　　哎呀！"波姆弗雷夫人，即那个护士长，是一个漂亮的年轻女人，但是非常严厉。
　　"只是五分钟。"哈利央求她。
　　"绝对不可以。"
　　"可你又让丹伯多教授进来……"
　　"那当然了，他是校长，怎么不同意呢。你很需要休息。""我只是躺着什么也不做，休息得够多了。波姆弗雷夫人，求你了……""唉，好吧，"她终于说。"但是只有五分钟。"于是罗恩和荷米恩可以进来了。
　　"哈利！"
　　荷米恩看来又要扑过来抱他了，令哈利松一口气的是她忍住了，因为怕弄痛他的头。
　　"噢，哈利，我们还以为你定会——连丹伯多校长也在担心……""整个学校都在谈论这件事，"罗恩说，"事实上是怎样的？"这是一个真实的故事，比没有根据的传闻更加传奇和惊险。哈利把经历全告诉了他们：屈拉啦，那块镜子啦，还有那块石头和福尔得摩特。罗恩和荷米恩倒是很好的听众，一直目瞪口呆地听着，什么也不想说，直到哈利告诉他屈拉头巾下面有什么时，荷米恩终于尖叫了一声。
　　"那么，那块石是没有了？"罗恩听完后，问："弗兰马尔一家不是要死了？""我也这样说过，但丹伯多校长认为——他说了什么呢？——'对那些有智慧的人来说，死亡只不过是第二次伟大的冒险罢了。"'"我一向都说他是疯狂的。"罗恩说，显然被校长的疯狂程度深深震撼了。
　　"是了，你们两个又发生了什么事呢？"哈利问。
　　"我安安全全地往回走，"荷米恩说。"然后带上罗恩一起——当然这费了很大的劲——两个人就跑着准备到猫头鹰之家联络丹伯多校长。谁知在大堂就遇见了他。他原来早已经知道了，只是问我们'哈利已经跟着他去了，对吗？'就冲去三楼了。""你想他会不会是故意安排你这样做的呢？"罗恩说。"给你送来你父亲的隐形技风，还有其他安排……？""哗，"荷米恩大叫，"如果他真的这样做的话，那实在是——实在是太可怕了，你可能会被杀死的！""不，不会是故意的，"哈利深思熟虑地说，"丹伯多校长是一个非常有趣的人，或者他只是给我一个机会。我想他肯定已经或多或少地知道这里发生的所有事的，他知道我们一定会去阻止的，于是不但不劝住我们，反而教了我们很多会用到的东西。最明显的是，他专门设计的那块镜子，好像早就知道我会和福尔得摩特一起找点金石似的……""够了，够了，丹伯多的赞美者。"罗恩说。"听着，你明天必须出席年尾大食会。分数全都出来了——当然是史林德林赢了我们。因为最后一场快迪斯比赛没有了你，大家被卫文卡罗压着来打……不过，食物肯定会很不错。"这时，波姆弗雷夫人冲了进来。
　　"你们已经呆够了，荷米恩、罗恩，快给我走。"她坚定不移地说。
　　睡过一晚好觉，哈利觉得自己已恢复得差不多了。
　　"我想参加大食会。"当波姆弗雷夫人人整理他那一大堆糖果罐时，哈利说，"我可以去吗？""丹伯多教授说你可以去，"她不以为然地说，显然觉得丹伯多教授竟然没有认识到大食会有多么不卫生，真是很不明智。"还有，你又有一位探访者了。""噢，太好了！"哈利叫，"会是谁呢？"
　　哈格力就在他说话时已经侧身从门口钻了进来。象平常一样，哈格力一进到室内，房子就会显得太小挤不下了。他坐在哈利身旁，望了他一眼，竟然哭了起来。
　　"这——全——是——我——该死的错！"他呜咽着，把脸埋在手里不敢抬起来。"我告诉了那只鬼如何通过弗拉菲！我竟然告诉了他！这是他唯一不知道的事而我却告诉了他！你千万别死！噢，全因为一只龙蛋！我以后也不敢喝酒了！我活该被扔出去贬为马格！噢！""哈格力！"哈利震惊地发现他因为悲伤和侮疚而颤抖着，同时还有一大滴一大滴的眼泪跌在被单上。连忙说，"别这样了，哈格力，就算你不说，他自己也会找出办法来的，要知道我们说的是福尔得摩特呀。""你不能死啊！"哈格力呜咽，"还有，别再说那个名字了！""福尔得摩特！"哈利响亮地大叫，把哈格力吓得连哭都忘记了。"我见过他了，我还在叫他的名字呢！这有什么好怕的。哈格力，开心一点吧！你看，我们抢回了那块石头，现在它又被毁了，他永远也不能利用它了。来一块巧克力青蛙糖，怎么样？我有很多很多呢……"哈格力用手背擦了擦鼻子，说："你提醒了我。我也有一件礼物要送给你的。""它不是一块鼬肉三明治吧？"哈刮兴奋地说。使哈格力忍不住咯咯地笑了起来。
　　"看，这是丹伯多昨天给了我一整天时间来弄的，他说弄不好就会解雇我——怎样也好，这个给你……"它像是一本精美的皮面书。哈利好奇地打开。里面全是一些巫师的照片。每一页都有他父母的笑容和动作……
　　"我给你父母所有的老校友都捎了封猫头鹰信，向他们要照片……我知道你没有多少张的，喜欢吗？"哈利说不出话来，但哈格力已经明白了。
　　哈利那一晚一个人去了年尾大食会。因为临走时被波姆弗雷夫人小题大做地拦住了，坚持要他作完最后一次全身检查才准走，所以在他去到大堂时，那里已经挤满了人。为了庆祝史林德林赢得了七年一届的豪斯杯，史林德林的人把大堂都装饰成他们队的绿色和银色，座位处插着那面印着大蟒蛇的队旗。
　　哈利一走进去，大堂里就像开水一样沸腾了起来，每个人都开始大声地谈论了起来。他静静地溜到格林芬顿的座位，坐在罗恩和荷米恩中间，同时努力地不去注意那些站起来看他的人们的脸孔。
　　幸好，过了一会丹伯多校长就来了。那些杂音马上消失了。
　　"又一年过去了！"丹伯多校长振奋地说，"但我不得不在你们放开肚皮去吃这些美妙的食物前，用一个老头的唠叨来先打扰一下。多么愉快的一年啊！我希望你们会发觉，自己的脑筋比过去丰富了一些……你们还有整整一个暑假的时间来让它变得漂亮和空虚呢！
　　现在，据我所知，豪斯杯要在这里颁发。具体积分是：格林芬顿队312分，排第四；海夫巴夫队352分，排第三；卫文卡罗队426分，排第二；史林德林队472分，排第一。"一阵欢呼声和跳跃声从史林德林学生的座位处爆发出来。哈利一眼见到杰高。
　　马尔夫正在拍打着他的高脚酒杯。真是令人伤心的一幕。
　　"好了，好了，你们做得很好，史林德林。"丹伯多校长说。
　　"但是近来的事件也应该计算在内的。"
　　大堂一下子静了下来，史林德林队员的笑容也没那么灿烂了。
　　"啊嗨，"丹伯多校长继续说。"现在我有一份最新的积分榜要推出。让我看看。对了……第一样是给……是给罗恩。威斯里先生的！"罗恩的脸一下子变为紫色，看起来活像一根晒黑的红萝卜。
　　"……因为他是霍格瓦彻许多年来出现的最优秀的棋师！我奖给格林芬顿队罗恩50分！
　　格林芬顿的欢呼声几乎要把房顶震破了，连头上的星星也仿佛活泼了起来。伯希兴奋的声音在不停地响起："我的弟弟，你知道吗？我的小弟弟，成为大棋师了！"最后，终于又回恢了寂静。
　　"第二，是关于荷米恩。格兰佐小姐的……她很了不起地在烈火面前运用了冷静的逻辑。我再奖给格林芬顿50分！"荷米恩用手捂住了脸，令哈利很怀疑她是不是又在哭了。旁边的格林芬顿学生们在椅子上跳上跳下——当然了，因为他们又多了100分啦！
　　"第三——是哈利·波特先生的……"丹伯多校长说。大堂一下子变得安安静静。"……因为他伟大的魄力和无畏的勇气，我给格林芬顿再加60分。"大堂又沸腾了。那些会心算的人已经知道，格林芬顿现在已经有了472分——跟史林德林一样多。要是丹伯多校长再多奖哈利一分的话，他们就会捧走豪斯杯了。
　　丹伯多校长抬起头，大堂又慢慢地静了下来。
　　"勇气是有很多种的，"丹伯多微笑着说。"要坚决抵抗我们的敌人需要极大的勇气，但坚决抵抗朋友同样也需要无比的勇气。因此，我在这里奖给尼维尔。兰博顿先生10分！"站在大堂外面的人肯定会以为里边有什么东西爆炸了，因为格林芬顿座位处发出的欢呼声是这么的震撼。哈利，罗恩，和荷米恩也站了起来大叫大喊，而尼维尔则吓得脸都白了，消失在一大群争着拥抱他的人群中——他还未试过为格林芬顿拿过这么多分呢！还在欢呼的哈利轻推了一下罗恩，并指了指马尔夫。这个可怜的人已经没有机会比现在更震惊和失望了，看上去就像中了"全身束缚"术一样。
　"那就是说，"丹伯多校长终于平息了那场骚动——因为连卫文卡罗和海夫巴夫队也在庆祝史林德林的失败，所以场面尤其盛大。
　　"我们要更换一下这里的摆设了！"
　　他拍了拍手。马上，那些绿色的装饰物变成了红色，而银色的则变成了金色。
　　那条代表史林德林的大蟒蛇消失了——换成了格林芬顿的狮子。史纳皮教授十分勉强地和麦康娜教授握了握手。当他的眼睛一碰到哈利，哈利就知道，史纳皮对他的憎恨一点也没有变。但这一点也没有令哈利忧虑，因为对于他，这是一生中最快乐的一晚，比赢了快迪斯比赛、打倒洞窟巨人……还要开心得多！他永远、永远也不会忘记这一夜。
　　哈利已经差不多忘记了他们还有考试结果要公布。但结果一出来却令他们大吃一惊：他和罗恩都以很高分数通过了，至于荷米恩——自然又是全年级第一名了。
　　就连尼维尔也马马虎虎地通过了！他的植物常识拿了高分，于是把他考得一塌糊涂的药剂学也扯高了。他们本来希望高尔——他简直是要有多蠢就有多蠢——会被踢出去的，可是他竟然也通过了。这简直是一个羞辱。但，正如罗恩说的，你不能指望生活会样样顺利。
　　然后，突然间，他们的衣柜都空了，而皮箱却满了。尼维尔的蟾蜍也被发现了，原来是藏在厕所的一个角落里。学校又有了公告，禁止学生在假期里使用巫术（弗来德。威斯里知道后曾伤心地说，"我还一直希望他们忘了告诉我们这个呢。"）。
　　哈格力已经准备好了接他们下船，然后他们乘坐着"霍格瓦彻号快船"在河面上航行。他们又说又笑地看着两岸越来越翠绿清新的乡村；在经过马格镇时又在大嚼贝蒂。博特牌多味豆；一齐把巫师袍脱了下来，又一齐穿上了夹克和大衣；然后，在9点45分时驶进了国王车站。他们所有人下船也费了不少时间。这时，一个很老的巫师站在验票口，让他们两个或三个地通过，以免像人潮一样一次过涌出把那些马格人给吓着。
　　"你们这个暑假一定要来，"罗恩说，"你们两个都是——我会给你们送猫头鹰信的。""谢谢，"哈利说。"我终于有一些东西可以盼望了。"人们在挤来挤去。好不容易他们来到那个通向马格世界的出口。这时，有些人喊："再见了，哈利！""再会，波特！"
　　"还是很出名呢。"罗恩笑着对他说。
　　"我保证，只要一回到我要去的地方就不会出名了。"哈利说。
　　他，罗恩和荷米恩一起通过了那个出口。
　　"他在那儿呢，妈妈，他在那儿，看！"原来是金妮。威斯里，罗恩的小妹妹，但她却不是指着罗恩喊的。
　　"哈利·波特！"她尖叫，"看，妈妈！我见到了——""静一点，金妮，别指人家，太不礼貌了。"威斯里夫人向他们微笑着。"很忙的一年，是吗？"她问。
　　"嘿，那一点也不算什么。"
　　"你准备好了吧？"那是维能姨丈。他还是满脸短须，还是一见到