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。”