Chapter 36 The Parting Of The Ways

Dumbledore stood up. He stared down at Barty Crouch for a moment with disgust on his face. Then he raised his wand once more and ropes flew out of it, ropes that twisted themselves around Barty Crouch, binding him tightly. He turned to Professor McGonagall.

“Minerva, could I ask you to stand guard here while I take Harry upstairs?”

“Of course,” said Professor McGonagall. She looked slightly nauseous, as though she had just watched someone being sick. However, when she drew out her wand and pointed it at Barty Crouch, her hand was quite steady.

“Severus” - Dumbledore turned to Snape - “please tell Madam Pomfrey to come down here; we need to get Alastor Moody into the hospital wing. Then go down into the grounds, find Cornelius Fudge, and bring him up to this office. He will undoubtedly want to question Crouch himself. Tell him I will be in the hospital wing in half an hour's time if he needs me.”

Snape nodded silently and swept out of the room.

“Harry?” Dumbledore said gently.

Harry got up and swayed again; the pain in his leg, which he had not noticed all the time he had been listening to Crouch, now returned in full measure. He also realized that he was shaking. Dumbledore gripped his arm and helped him out into the dark corridor.

“I want you to come up to my office first. Harry,” he said quiedy as they headed up the passageway. “Sirius is waiting for us there.”

Harry nodded. A kind of numbness and a sense of complete unreality were upon him, but he did not care; he was even glad of it. He didn't want to have to think about anything that had happened since he had first touched the Triwizard Cup. He didn't want to have to examine the memories, fresh and sharp as photographs, which kept flashing across his mind. Mad-Eye Moody, inside the trunk. Wormtail, slumped on the ground, cradling his stump of an arm. Voldemort, rising from the steaming cauldron. Cedric…dead…Cedric, asking to be returned to his parents.…

“Professor,” Harry mumbled, “where are Mr. and Mrs. Diggory?”

“They are with Professor Sprout,” said Dumbledore. His voice, which had been so calm throughout the interrogation of Barty Crouch, shook very slightly for the first time. “She was Head of Cedric's house, and knew him best.”

They had reached the stone gargoyle. Dumbledore gave the password, it sprang aside, and he and Harry went up the moving spiral staircase to the oak door. Dumbledore pushed it open. Sirius was standing there. His face was white and gaunt as it had been when he had escaped Azkaban. In one swift moment, he had crossed the room.

“Harry, are you all right? I knew it - I knew something like this - what happened?”

His hands shook as he helped Harry into a chair in front of the desk.

“What happened?” he asked more urgently.

Dumbledore began to tell Sirius everything Barty Crouch had said. Harry was only half listening. So tired every bone in his body was aching, he wanted nothing more than to sit here, undisturbed, for hours and hours, until he fell asleep and didn't have to think or feel anymore.

There was a soft rush of wings. Fawkes the phoenix had left his perch, flown across the office, and landed on Harry's knee.

“'Lo, Fawkes,” said Harry quietly. He stroked the phoenix's beautiful scarlet-and-gold plumage. Fawkes blinked peacefully up at him. There was something comforting about his warm weight.

Dumbledore stopped talking. He sat down opposite Harry, behind his desk. He was looking at Harry, who avoided his eyes. Dumbledore was going to question him. He was going to make Harry relive everything.

“I need to know what happened after you touched the Portkey in the maze. Harry,” said Dumbledore.

“We can leave that till morning, can't we, Dumbledore?” said Sirius harshly. He had put a hand on Harry's shoulder. “Let him have a sleep. Let him rest.”

Harry felt a rush of gratitude toward Sirius, but Dumbledore took no notice of Sirius's words. He leaned forward toward Harry. Very unwillingly, Harry raised his head and looked into those blue eyes.

“If I thought I could help you,” Dumbledore said gently, “by putting you into an enchanted sleep and allowing you to postpone the moment when you would have to think about what has happened tonight, I would do it. But I know better. Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it. You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you. I ask you to demonstrate your courage one more time. I ask you to tell us what happened.”

The phoenix let out one soft, quavering note. It shivered in the air, and Harry felt as though a drop of hot liquid had slipped down his throat into his stomach, warming him, and strengthening him.

He took a deep breath and began to tell them. As he spoke, visions of everything that had passed that night seemed to rise before his eyes; he saw the sparkling surface of the potion that had revived Voldemort; he saw the Death Eaters Apparating between the graves around them; he saw Cedric's body, lying on the ground beside the cup.

Once or twice, Sirius made a noise as though about to say something, his hand still tight on Harry's shoulder, but Dumbledore raised his hand to stop him, and Harry was glad of this, because it was easier to keep going now he had started. It was even a relief; he felt almost as though something poisonous were being extracted from him. It was costing him every bit of determination he had to keep talking, yet he sensed that once he had finished, he would feel better.

When Harry told of Wormtail piercing his arm with the dagger, however, Sirius let out a vehement exclamation and Dumbledore stood up so quickly that Harry started. Dumbledore walked around the desk and told Harry to stretch out his arm. Harry showed them both the place where his robes were torn and the cut beneath them.

“He said my blood would make him stronger than if he'd used someone else's,” Harry told Dumbledore. “He said the protection my - my mother left in me - he'd have it too. And he was right - he could touch me without hurting himself, he touched my face.”

For a fleeting instant, Harry thought he saw a gleam of something like triumph in Dumbledore's eyes. But next second. Harry was sure he had imagined it, for when Dumbledore had returned to his seat behind the desk, he looked as old and weary as Harry had ever seen him.

“Very well,” he said, sitting down again. “Voldemort has overcome that particular barrier. Harry, continue, please.”

Harry went on; he explained how Voldemort had emerged from the cauldron, and told them all he could remember of Voldemort's speech to the Death Eaters. Then he told how Voldemort had untied him, returned his wand to him, and prepared to duel.

But when he reached the part where the golden beam of light had connected his and Voldemort's wands, he found his throat obstructed. He tried to keep talking, but the memories of what had come out of Voldemort's wand were flooding into his mind. He could see Cedric emerging, see the old man, Bertha Jorkins…his father…his mother…

He was glad when Sirius broke the silence.

“The wands connected?” he said, looking from Harry to Dumbledore. “Why?”

Harry looked up at Dumbledore again, on whose face there was an arrested look.

“Priori Incantatem,” he muttered.

His eyes gazed into Harry's and it was almost as though an invisible beam of understanding shot between them.

“The Reverse Spell effect?” said Sirius sharply.

“Exactly,” said Dumbledore. “Harry's wand and Voldemort's wand share cores. Each of them contains a feather from the tail of the same phoenix. This phoenix, in fact,” he added, and he pointed at the scarlet-and-gold bird, perching peacefully on Harry's knee.

“My wand's feather came from Fawkes?” Harry said, amazed.

“Yes,” said Dumbledore. “Mr. Ollivander wrote to tell me you had bought the second wand, the moment you left his shop four years ago.”

“So what happens when a wand meets its brother?” said Sirius.

“They will not work properly against each other,” said Dumbledore. “If, however, the owners of the wands force the wands to do battle…a very rare effect will take place. One of the wands will force the other to regurgitate spells it has performed - in reverse. The most recent first…and then those which preceded it.…”

He looked interrogatively at Harry, and Harry nodded.

“Which means,” said Dumbledore slowly, his eyes upon Harry's face, “that some form of Cedric must have reappeared.”

Harry nodded again.

“Diggory came back to life?” said Sirius sharply.

“No spell can reawaken the dead,” said Dumbledore heavily. “All that would have happened is a kind of reverse echo. A shadow of the living Cedric would have emerged from the wand…am I correct, Harry?”

“He spoke to me,” Harry said. He was suddenly shaking again. “The…the ghost Cedric, or whatever he was, spoke.”

“An echo,” said Dumbledore, “which retained Cedric's appearance and character. I am guessing other such forms appeared…less recent victims of Voldemort's wand.…”

“An old man,” Harry said, his throat still constricted. “Bertha Jorkins. And…”

“Your parents?” said Dumbledore quietly.

“Yes,” said Harry.

Sirius's grip on Harry's shoulder was now so tight it was painful.

“The last murders the wand performed,” said Dumbledore, nodding. “In reverse order. More would have appeared, of course, had you maintained the connection. Very well, Harry, these echoes, these shadows…what did they do?”

Harry described how the figures that had emerged from the wand had prowled the edges of the golden web, how Voldemort had seemed to fear them, how the shadow of Harry's mother had told him what to do, how Cedric's had made its final request.

At this point. Harry found he could not continue. He looked around at Sirius and saw that he had his face in his hands.

Harry suddenly became aware that Fawkes had left his knee. The phoenix had fluttered to the floor. It was resting its beautiful head against Harry's injured leg, and thick, pearly tears were falling from its eyes onto the wound left by the spider. The pain vanished. The skin mended. His leg was repaired.

“I will say it again,” said Dumbledore as the phoenix rose into the air and resettled itself upon the perch beside the door. “You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight. Harry. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard's burden and found yourself equal to it - and you have now given us all we have a right to expect. You will come with me to the hospital wing. I do not want you returning to the dormitory tonight. A Sleeping Potion, and some peace…Sirius, would you like to stay with him?”

Sirius nodded and stood up. He transformed back into the great black dog and walked with Harry and Dumbledore out of the office, accompanying them down a flight of stairs to the hospital wing.

When Dumbledore pushed open the door. Harry saw Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, and Hermione grouped around a harassed-looking Madam Pomfrey. They appeared to be demanding to know where Harry was and what had happened to him. All of them whipped around as Harry, Dumbledore, and the black dog entered, and Mrs. Weasley let out a kind of muffled scream.

“Harry! Oh Harry!”

She started to hurry toward him, but Dumbledore moved between them.

“Molly,” he said, holding up a hand, “please listen to me for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me. What he needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet. If he would like you all to stay with him,” he added, looking around at Ron, Hermione, and Bill too, “you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening.”

Mrs. Weasley nodded. She was very white. She rounded on Ron, Hermione, and Bill as though they were being noisy, and hissed, “Did you hear? He needs quiet!”

“Headmaster,” said Madam Pomfrey, staring at the great black dog that was Sirius, “may I ask what - ?”

“This dog will be remaining with Harry for a while,” said Dumbledore simply. “I assure you, he is extremely well trained. Harry - I will wait while you get into bed.”

Harry felt an inexpressible sense of gratitude to Dumbledore for asking the others not to question him. It wasn't as though he didn't want them there; but the thought of explaining it all over again, the idea of reliving it one more time, was more than he could stand.

“I will be back to see you as soon as I have met with Fudge, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “I would like you to remain here tomorrow until I have spoken to the school.” He left.

As Madam Pomfrey led Harry to a nearby bed, he caught sight of the real Moody lying motionless in a bed at the far end of the room. His wooden leg and magical eye were lying on the bedside table.

“Is he okay?” Harry asked.

“He'll be fine,” said Madam Pomfrey, giving Harry some pajamas and pulling screens around him. He took off his robes, pulled on the pajamas, and got into bed. Ron, Hermione, Bill, Mrs. Weasley, and the black dog came around the screen and settled themselves in chairs on either side of him. Ron and Hermione were looking at him almost cautiously, as though scared of him.

“I'm all right,” he told them. “Just tired.”

Mrs. Weasley's eyes filled with tears as she smoothed his bed-covers unnecessarily.

Madam Pomfrey, who had bustled off to her office, returned holding a small bottle of some purple potion and a goblet.

“You'll need to drink all of this. Harry,” she said. “It's a potion for dreamless sleep.”

Harry took the goblet and drank a few mouthfuls. He felt himself becoming drowsy at once. Everything around him became hazy; the lamps around the hospital wing seemed to be winking at him in a friendly way through the screen around his bed; his body felt as though it was sinking deeper into the warmth of the feather matress. Before he could finish the potion, before he could say another word, his exhaustion had carried him off to sleep.

　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*

Harry woke up, so warm, so very sleepy, that he didn't open his eyes, wanting to drop off again. The room was still dimly lit; he was sure it was still nighttime and had a feeling that he couldn't have been asleep very long.

Then he heard whispering around him.

“They'll wake him if they don't shut up!”

“What are they shouting about? Nothing else can have happened, can it?”

Harry opened his eyes blearily. Someone had removed his glasses. He could see the fuzzy outlines of Mrs. Weasley and Bill close by. Mrs. Weasley was on her feet.

“That's Fudge's voice,” she whispered. “And that's Minerva McGonagall's, isn't it? But what are they arguing about?”

Now Harry could hear them too: people shouting and running toward the hospital wing.

“Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva -” Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly.

“You should never have brought it inside the castle!” yelled Professor McGonagall. “When Dumbledore finds out -”

Harry heard the hospital doors burst open. Unnoticed by any of the people around his bed, all of whom were staring at the door as Bill pulled back the screens, Harry sat up and put his glasses back on.

Fudge came striding up the ward. Professors McGonagall and Snape were at his heels.

“Where's Dumbledore?” Fudge demanded of Mrs. Weasley.

“He's not here,” said Mrs. Weasley angrily. “This is a hospital wing. Minister, don't you think you'd do better to -”

But the door opened, and Dumbledore came sweeping up the ward.

“What has happened?” said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to Professor McGonagall. “Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you - I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch -”

“There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!” she shrieked. “The Minister has seen to that!”

Harry had never seen Professor McGonagall lose control like this. There were angry blotches of color in her cheeks, and a hands were balled into fists; she was trembling with fury.-

“When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events,” said Snape, in a low voice; he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch -”

“I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!” McGonagall fumed. “I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but -”

“My dear woman!” roared Fudge, who likewise looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him, “as Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous -”

But Professor McGonagall's voice drowned Fudge's.

“The moment that - that thing entered the room,” she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, “it swooped down on Crouch and - and -”

Harry felt a chill in his stomach as Professor McGonagall struggled to find words to describe what had happened. He did not need her to finish her sentence. He knew what the dementor must have done. It had administered its fatal kiss to Barty Crouch. It had sucked his soul out through his mouth. He was worse than dead.

“By all accounts, he is no loss!” blustered Fudge. “It seems he has been responsible for several deaths'.”

“But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore. He was staring hard at Fudge, as though seeing him plainly for the first time. “He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people.”

“Why he killed them? Well, that's no mystery, is it?” blustered Fudge. “He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who's instructions!”

“Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, Cornelius,” Dumbledore said. “Those peoples deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body.”

Fudge looked as though someone had just swung a heavy weight into his face. Dazed and blinking, he stared back at Dumbledore as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard. He began to sputter, still goggling at Dumbledore.

“You-Know-Who…returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore…”

“As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you,” said Dumbledore, “we heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort - learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins - went to free him from his father and used him to capture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return.”

“See here, Dumbledore,” said Fudge, and Harry was astonished to see a slight smile dawning on his face, “you - you can't seriously believe that You-Know-Who - back? Come now, come now…certainly, Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who's orders - but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore…”

“When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was transported straight to Voldemort,” said Dumbledore steadily. “He witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office.”

Dumbledore glanced around at Harry and saw that he was awake, but shook his head and said, “I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight.”

Fudge's curious smile lingered. He too glanced at Harry, then looked back at Dumbledore, and said, “You are - er - prepared to take Harry's word on this, are you, Dumbledore?”

There was a moment's silence, which was broken by Sirius growling. His hackles were raised, and he was baring his teeth at Fudge.

“Certainly, I believe Harry,” said Dumbledore. His eyes were blazing now. “I heard Crouch's confession, and I heard Harry's account of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer.”

Fudge still had that strange smile on his face. Once again, he glanced at Harry before answering.

“You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and a boy who…well…”

Fudge shot Harry another look, and Harry suddenly understood.

“You've been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr. Fudge,” he said quietly.

Ron, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and Bill all jumped. None of them had realized that Harry was awake.

Fudge reddened slightly, but a defiant and obstinate look came over his face.

“And if I have?” he said, looking at Dumbledore. “If I have discovered that you've been keeping certain facts about the boy very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh? And having funny turns all over the place -”

“I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?” said Dumbledore coolly.

“You admit that he has been having these pains, then?” said Fudge quickly. “Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly - hallucinations?”

“Listen to me, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore, taking a step toward Fudge, and once again, he seemed to radiate that indefinable sense of power that Harry had felt after Dumbledore had Stunned young Crouch. “Harry is as sane as you or I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous.”

Fudge had taken half a step back from Dumbledore, but he looked no less stubborn.

“You'll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I've never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before.…”

“Look, I saw Voldemort come back!” Harry shouted. He tried to get out of bed again, but Mrs. Weasley forced him back. “I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy -”

Snape made a sudden movement, but as Harry looked at him, Snape's eyes flew back to Fudge.

“Malfoy was cleared!” said Fudge, visibly affronted. “A very old family - donations to excellent causes -”

“Macnair!” Harry continued.

“Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!”

“Avery - Nott - Crabbe - Goyle -”

“You are merely repeating the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago!” said Fudge angrily. “You could have found those names in old reports of the trials! For heavens sake, Dumbledore - the boy was full of some crackpot story at the end of last year too - his tales are getting taller, and you're still swallowing them - the boy can talk to snakes. Dumbledore, and you still think he's trustworthy?”

“You fool!” Professor McGonagall cried. “Cedric Diggory! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!”

“I see no evidence to the contrary!” shouted Fudge, now matching her anger, his face purpling. “It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!”

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had always thought of Fudge as a kindly figure, a little blustering, a little pompous, but essentially good-natured. But now a short, angry wizard stood before him, refusing, point-blank, to accept the prospect of disruption in his comfortable and ordered world - to believe that Voldemort could have risen.

“Voldemort has returned,” Dumbledore repeated. “If you accept that fact straightaway. Fudge, and take the necessary measures, we may still be able to save the situation. The first and most essential step is to remove Azkaban from the control of the dementors -”

“Preposterous!” shouted Fudge again. “Remove the dementors? I'd be kicked out of office for suggesting it! Half of us only feel safe in our beds at night because we know the dementors are standing guard at Azkaban!”

“The rest of us sleep less soundly in our beds, Cornelius, knowing that you have put Lord Voldemort's most dangerous supporters in the care of creatures who will join him the instant he asks them!” said Dumbledore. “They will not remain loyal to you, Fudge! Voldemort can offer them much more scope for their powers and their pleasures than you can! With the dementors behind him, and his old supporters returned to him, you will be hard-pressed to stop him regaining the sort of power he had thirteen years ago!”

Fudge was opening and closing his mouth as though no words could express his outrage.

“The second step you must take - and at once,” Dumbledore pressed on, “is to send envoys to the giants.”

“Envoys to the giants?” Fudge shrieked, finding his tongue again. “What madness is this?”

“Extend them the hand of friendship, now, before it is too late,” said Dumbledore, “or Voldemort will persuade them, as he did before, that he alone among wizards will give them their rights and their freedom!”

“You - you cannot be serious!” Fudge gasped, shaking his head and retreating further from Dumbledore. “If the magical community got wind that I had approached the giants - people hate them, Dumbledore - end of my career -”

“You are blinded,” said Dumbledore, his voice rising now, the aura of power around him palpable, his eyes blazing once more, “by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be! Your dementor has just destroyed the last remaining member of a pure-blood family as old as any - and see what that man chose to make of his life! I tell you now- take the steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, in office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest Ministers of Magic we have ever known. Fail to act - and history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort a second chance to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild!”

“Insane,” whispered Fudge, still backing away. “Mad…”

And then there was silence. Madam Pomfrey was standing frozen at the foot of Harry's bed, her hands over her mouth. Mrs.Weasley was still standing over Harry, her hand on his shoulder to prevent him from rising. Bill, Ron, and Hermione were staring at Fudge.

“If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore, “we have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit. And I - I shall act as I see fit.”

Dumbledore's voice carried no hint of a threat; it sounded like a mere statement, but Fudge bristled as though Dumbledore were advancing upon him with a wand.

“Now, see here, Dumbledore,” he said, waving a threatening finger. “I've given you free rein, always. I've had a lot of respect for you. I might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I've kept quiet. There aren't many who'd have let you hire werewolves, or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students without reference to the Ministry. But if you're going to work against me -”

“The only one against whom I intend to work,” said Dumbledore, “is Lord Voldemort. If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side.”

It seemed Fudge could think of no answer to this. He rocked backward and forward on his small feet for a moment and spun his bowler hat in his hands. Finally, he said, with a hint of a plea in his voice, “He can't be back, Dumbledore, he just can't be…”

Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He stuck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled.

“There,” said Snape harshly. “There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold.”

Fudge stepped back from Snape too. He was shaking his head. He did not seem to have taken in a word Snape had said. He stared, apparently repelled by the ugly mark on Snape's arm, then looked up at Dumbledore and whispered, “I don't know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry.”

He had almost reached the door when he paused. He turned around, strode back down the dormitory, and stopped at Harry's bed.

“Your winnings,” he said shortly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket and dropping it onto Harry's bedside table. “One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances…”

He crammed his bowler hat onto his head and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The moment he had disappeared, Dumbledore turned to look at the group around Harry's bed.

“There is work to be done,” he said. “Molly…am I right in thinking that I can count on you and Arthur?”

“Of course you can,” said Mrs. Weasley. She was white to the lips, but she looked resolute. “We know what Fudge is. It's Arthur's fondness for Muggles that has held him back at the Ministry all these years. Fudge thinks he lacks proper wizarding pride.”

“Then I need to send a message to Arthur,” said Dumbledore. “All those that we can persuade of the truth must be notified immediately, and he is well placed to contact those at the Ministry who are not as shortsighted as Cornelius.”

“I'll go to Dad,” said Bill, standing up. “I'll go now.”

“Excellent,” said Dumbledore. “Tell him what has happened. Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be discreet, however. If Fudge thinks I am interfering at the Ministry -”

“Leave it to me,” said Bill.

He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, kissed his mother on the cheek, pulled on his cloak, and strode quickly from the room.

“Minerva,” said Dumbledore, turning to Professor McGonagall, “I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also - if she will consent to come - Madame Maxime.”

Professor McGonagall nodded and left without a word.

“Poppy,” Dumbledore said to Madam Pomfrey, “would you be very kind and go down to Professor Moody's office, where I think you will find a house-elf called Winky in considerable distress? Do what you can for her, and take her back to the kitchens. I think Dobby will look after her for us.”

“Very - very well,” said Madam Pomfrey, looking startled, and she too left.

Dumbledore made sure that the door was closed, and that Madam Pomfrey's footsteps had died away, before he spoke again.

“And now,” he said, “it is time for two of our number to recognize each other for what they are. Sirius…if you could resume your usual form.”

The great black dog looked up at Dumbledore, then, in an instant, turned back into a man.

Mrs. Weasley screamed and leapt back from the bed.

“Sirius Black!” she shrieked, pointing at him.

“Mum, shut up!” Ron yelled. “It's okay!”

Snape had not yelled or jumped backward, but the look on his face was one of mingled fury and horror.

“Him!” he snarled, staring at Sirius, whose face showed equal dislike. “What is he doing here?”

“He is here at my invitation,” said Dumbledore, looking between them, “as are you, Severus. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other.”

Harry thought Dumbledore was asking for a near miracle. Sirius and Snape were eyeing each other with the utmost loathing.

“I will settle, in the short term,” said Dumbledore, with a bite of impatience in his voice, “for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth do not stand united, there is no hope for any us.

Very slowly - but still glaring at each other as though each wished the other nothing but ill - Sirius and Snape moved toward each other and shook hands. They let go extremely quickly.

“That will do to be going on with,” said Dumbledore, stepping between them once more. “Now I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher - the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for a while; I will contact you there.”

“But -” said Harry.

He wanted Sirius to stay. He did not want to have to say goodbye again so quickly.

“You'll see me very soon. Harry,” said Sirius, turning to him. “I promise you. But I must do what I can, you understand, don't you?”

“Yeah,” said Harry. “Yeah…of course I do.”

Sirius grasped his hand briefly, nodded to Dumbledore, transformed again into the black dog, and ran the length of the room to the door, whose handle he turned with a paw. Then he was gone.

“Severus,” said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, “you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready…if you are prepared…”

“I am,” said Snape.

He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely.

“Then good luck,” said Dumbledore, and he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius.

It was several minutes before Dumbledore spoke again.

“I must go downstairs,” he said finally. “I must see the Diggory's. Harry - take the rest of your potion. I will see all of you later.”

Harry slumped back against his pillows as Dumbledore disappeared. Hermione, Ron, and Mrs. Weasley were all looking at him. None of them spoke for a very long time.

“You've got to take the rest of your potion. Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said at last. Her hand nudged the sack of gold on his bedside cabinet as she reached for the bottle and the goblet. “You have a good long sleep. Try and think about something else for a while…think about what you're going to buy with your winnings!”

“I don't want that gold,” said Harry in an expressionless voice. “You have it. Anyone can have it. I shouldn't have won it. It should've been Cedric's.”

The thing against which he had been fighting on and off ever since he had come out of the maze was threatening to overpower him. He could feel a burning, prickling feeling in the inner corners of his eyes. He blinked and stared up at the ceiling.

“It wasn't your fault. Harry,” Mrs. Weasley whispered.

“I told him to take the cup with me,” said Harry.

Now the burning feeling was in his throat too. He wished Ron would look away.

Mrs. Weasley set the potion down on the bedside cabinet, bent down, and put her arms around Harry. He had no memory of ever being hugged like this, as though by a mother. The full weight of everything he had seen that night seemed to fall in upon him as Mrs. Weasley held him to her. His mother's face, his father's voice, the sight of Cedric, dead on the ground all started spinning in his head until he could hardly bear it, until he was screwing up his face against the howl of misery fighting to get out of him.

There was a loud slamming noise, and Mrs. Weasley and Harry broke apart. Hermione was standing by the window. She was holding something tight in her hand.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“Your potion, Harry,” said Mrs. Weasley quickly, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand.

Harry drank it in one gulp. The effect was instantaneous. Heavy, irresistible waves of dreamless sleep broke over him; he fell back onto his pillows and thought no more.

丹伯多站了起来。他看了内卜。克劳斯一会儿，脸上带着厌恶的表情。然后他又举起了他的魔杖，从魔杖中甩出了一条绳子。这根绳子绕着内卜。克劳斯旋转，把他缠得结结实实的。

　　他转向麦康娜教授，“米尼维，能否请你守在这儿？我带哈利上楼去。”

　　“当然可以。”麦康娜教授说。她看起来似乎有点儿想吐，好像她刚刚看了有人生病一样。但是，当她拿出魔杖，把它指向内卜。

　　克劳斯时，她的手却非常稳。

　　“塞维罗斯，”丹伯多转向史纳皮，“请叫波姆弗雷夫人下到这里来。我们要把莫迪送到医院里。然后你再下去地下室，找到可尼斯，把他带到这办公室来。他肯定会想亲自质问克劳斯的。告诉他，如果他要找我的话，半个小时后我会在医院厢房里。

　　史纳皮静静地点了点头，一阵风似地飞出了房间。

　　“哈利。”丹伯多温和地说。

　　哈利站了起来，又晃了一下，他在听克劳斯讲话时，一直都没有注意到腿上的疼痛，但是现在那种痛感又剧烈非常。他意识到自己在颤抖。丹伯多抓住他的手臂，扶着他走出到黑暗的走廊里。

　　“哈利，你先上我办公室来吧，”他们走上通道时，他静静地说，“西里斯正在那儿等着我们呢。”

　　哈利点了点头。他有一种麻木感和一种完全不在现实中的感觉，但他不在乎，他甚至为此而高兴。自从他接触了三巫师赛杯以来，他就不想去思考发生的任何事了。他不想去审视那些鲜活如相片的，不断掠过脑海的记忆：皮箱中的莫迪；跌落在地上，抱着一截残臂的温太尔；从滚滚蒸汽的大汽锅中升起来的福尔得摩特，塞德里克……死了……塞德里克，叫着要回到父母身边的……

　　“教授，”哈利喃喃地说，“迪格瑞夫妇在哪里？”

　　“他们和史伯特教授在一起，”丹伯多说道。他的声音在整个审问内卜。克劳斯的过程中都很沉静，现在却第一次出现了小小的震动，“她是塞德里克房子的主人，也最熟悉塞德里克！”

　　他们到了怪兽石滴水嘴那里。丹伯多给了密码，它就弹开了。

　　他和哈利就由螺旋形的自动梯上到橡木门前。丹伯多推开那扇门。

　　西里斯正站在那里，他那苍白的脸骨瘦如柴，就像他刚逃离阿兹克班一样。一会儿功夫，他就穿过了房间，“哈利，你好吗？我知道——我知道像这样的事——发生了什么事？”

　　当他扶哈利到一张桌子前的凳子上时，他的手颤动了一下。

　　“到底发生什么事了？”他更急切地问道。

　　丹伯多开始把内卜。克劳斯说的每件事讲给西里斯听。哈利没有怎么注意听。他身上的每根骨头都又累又疼。他什么也不想要，只想安静地坐在这里，一直坐到他睡着，就什么也不用去想和去体会了。

　　有一阵轻轻的扑翼声。那只凤凰达摩克已经离开了他的栖木，飞过来了办公室里，停在哈利膝盖上。

　　“哈罗，达摩克。”哈利温和地说，他轻轻地抚摸着它那漂亮的猩红色和黄金色的羽毛。达摩克朝他平静地眨着眼睛。他那暖暖的身体令人感到很舒服。

　　丹伯多不再说话了。他面对着哈利坐在桌子后面，他看着哈利，哈利却回避着他的眼睛。丹伯多想要询问他，他想让哈利重温发生过的事情。

　　“哈利，我想知道你在迷宫里碰了波奇以后，发生了什么事？”

　　丹伯多说道。

　　“丹伯多，这可以留到明天早上再谈吧，好吗？”西里斯鲁莽地说。他的手搭在哈利的肩膀上，“让他睡一会儿，休息休息吧。”

　　哈利心里对西里斯涌起一阵感激之情。但丹伯多没有在意西里斯的话。他向哈利靠过来，哈利很不情愿地抬起头，望着那蓝色的眼睛。

　　“如果我觉得让你美美地睡上一觉，让你迟一点再考虑今晚发生了什么事，就帮得上你的话，我是会做的。”丹伯多和气地说，“但是我知道怎样更好。现在对痛苦暂时麻木，到你最终感受到时，会更加难受。你已经显示了我所能期待的最大的勇气，现在我要你再显现一次，我要你说出究竟发生了什么事。”

　　那只凤凰发出了温软的、震颤的一声，这声音在空气中颤动了一下，哈利觉得好像一滴热热的液体从他喉咙里滑进了肚子里，温暖着他，激励着他。

　　他深深地呼吸了一口气，开始讲述给他们听。他讲的时候，那天晚上发生的一幕幕好像在他眼前浮现了：他又看见了那使福尔得摩特复活的药剂的闪闪发光的表面，他又看见了在坟墓间出现的食尸者，他又看见了躺在地上靠在那金杯旁的塞德里克的尸体。

　　有一两次，西里斯发了一些声音，好像想说些什么，他的手仍紧紧靠在哈利肩膀上，但丹伯多举手示意，打断了他。哈利感到高兴，因为他既然开始了，就比较容易接着讲。这甚至是一种信念：他似乎感到某些毒物正从他体中排出来。他花了决心和勇气来继续讲，但他仍能体会到，一旦他全部讲出来后，他会感觉好点的。

　　当哈利说到温太尔用匕首割开他的手臂时，西里斯发出了一声尖叫。丹伯多腾的一下很快地站了起来，哈利都被惊动了。丹伯多绕过桌子，让哈利伸出手臂来。哈利指出他的袍子被撕开的地方，还有下面的伤口。

　　“他说，用我的血会比用别人的让他更厉害，”哈利告诉丹伯多，“他说那保护——我妈留下给我的——他也有证明他是对的——他能不伤害自己而接触我，他摸了我的脸。”

　　一霎那间，哈利觉得丹伯多的眼睛里闪过一种胜利的眼神。但接下来，他又觉得是自己想象的，因为当丹伯多回到桌子后面的位子上时，他看起来又跟以往看到的一样老而憔悴。

　　“好的，”他又坐了下来，说道，“福尔得摩特克服了那特殊的药剂。哈利，接着讲。”

　　哈利继续讲。他解释了福尔得摩特怎么样从那口大锅里冒了出来，告诉了他们他所能记起的福尔得摩特对那群食尸者说过的话，以及福尔得库特解开他的绳子，把魔杖还给了他，准备决斗。

　　但当他说到一束金光把他和福尔得摩特的短杖连在一起了时，他发现喉咙被阻住了。他想接着讲，但关于福尔得摩特杖里出来的东西的记忆如潮水般充满了他的脑海：他看到了塞德里克，看到了那老头，珀茜·佐金斯……他母亲……他父亲……

　　他很高兴西里斯打破了沉默。

　　“魔杖连在了一起？”他望望哈利和丹伯多，问道：“为什么？”

　　哈利抬头看着丹伯多，此时他正有一副被吸引住的神情。

　　“皮利。因可顿……”他喃喃说道。

　　他盯着哈利，突然间他们俩人之间闪过了领悟的一个灵光。

　　“颠倒的咒语效力？”西里斯尖锐地说。

　　“对极了！”丹伯多说，“哈利的魔杖和福尔得摩特的都有相同的中心，每支魔杖都有来自同一个凤凰尾巴的一根羽毛。这个凤凰，实际上……”他又说，指着那平稳地站在哈利膝盖上的红黄色的鸟。

　　“我的魔杖的羽毛是达摩克的？”哈利惊奇地说。

　　“对，”丹伯多说，“欧里迈特先生写信告诉我说，四年前你离开他的商店的时候，又买了第二根杖。”

　　“那当一根杖碰到他兄弟时会发生什么？”西里斯问道。

　　“他们之间就不能正常发挥作用了。”丹伯多说，“但是，如果魔杖主人强迫它们斗争的话，就会发生很小的效力。”

　　“其中一个魔杖会强迫另外一个重复它所使用过的咒语——颠倒它。最近的变成最远的……然后就是之前的那些。”

　　他审视着哈利，哈利点了点头。

　　“这意味着，”丹伯多缓缓说道，他盯着哈利的脸，“某种形式的塞德里克肯定会重新出现。”

　　哈利又点了点头。

　　“迪格瑞又复活了？”西里斯用尖尖的声音说道。

　　“没有什么咒语能使死人苏醒，”丹伯多沉重地说。“那所有发生的事只是一种逆转的反应。活着的塞德里克的阴影会从魔杖里出来。我说的对吗？哈利。”

　　“他跟我说话了，”哈利说着，声音又颤抖了。“塞德里克的鬼魂，或者不管他是什么和我说过话。”

　　“一种回响。”丹伯多说，“它保留着塞德里克容貌和特性。我猜其他这样形式的东西也出现了……福尔得摩特魔杖早前的受害者”一个老头，“哈利说，喉咙仍噎着，”珀茜·佐金斯和……“

　　“你父母？”丹伯多静静地说。

　　“对。”哈利说。

　　西里斯把哈利的肩膀抓得那么紧，都让哈利觉得疼了。

　　“魔杖最早的受害者，”丹伯多边说边点头，“从相反的顺序。

　　当然，如果你保持那种联系的话，就会有更多事物出现了。很好，哈利，这些反应，这些影子……他们干了什么？“

　　哈利描述了从魔杖里出来的人物怎样在金色大网里徘徊，福尔得摩特似乎是十分害怕他们，哈利父亲的影子告诉他怎样做，塞德里克怎样做出最后的请求。

　　讲到这，哈利发觉讲不下去了。他看了看西里斯，他用手捂住了脸。

　　突然哈利意识到凤凰离开了他的膝盖。它振动翅膀，飞到了地板上，把那美丽的头栖息在哈利受伤的腿上。大大的泪珠从它眼睛里滚落在哈利身上被蜘蛛弄伤的伤口上。疼痛逐渐消失了，皮肤愈合了，他的腿变好了。

　　“我再说一次，”丹伯多说道，这时凤凰飞上了空中，停在门边的栖木上，“今晚你显示了我所能希望的最大的勇气。哈利，你的勇气跟那些不畏福尔得摩特的淫威，英勇斗争而死的人的勇气一样。你已经挑起了一个巫师的重担，而且你能胜任。你给我们希望。今晚你跟我一起去医院厢房。我不想让你又回到宿舍去，吃上一些安眠药，静静地躺着……西里斯，你愿意同他呆在一起吗？”

　　西里斯点点头，站了起来。他又变回了那只大黑狗的模样，同哈利和丹伯多走出了办公室，陪着他们走下楼梯，来到医院厢房里。

　　丹伯多推开门时，哈利看见威斯里夫人、比尔、罗恩和荷米恩围着神清苦恼的波姆弗雷夫人，他们好像在要求知道哈利的去向和在他身上所发生的事。

　　哈利，丹伯多和大黑狗一进来，他们就马上走了过来包围住。

　　威斯里夫人发出呜咽的一声叫声，“哈利，哦，哈利。”

　　她开始奔过来，但丹伯多挡在他俩中间。

　　“摩莉，”他举起手，说道：“请听我说一会儿。今晚哈利经受了一场可怕的考验，他刚刚为我重述了一切。现在他所需要的就是安静地休息。如果他愿意你们陪着他，”他看着罗恩、荷米恩和比尔，又说，“你们就可以和他呆在一起。但我希望直到他准备好回答，你们才好问他，当然不能是今晚。”

　　威斯里夫人脸色苍白地点了点头。

　　她突然责备起罗恩、荷米恩和比尔来，好像他们在吵闹一样，“听见没有？他需要安静。”

　　“校长，”波姆弗雷夫人说道，她看着西里斯变成的大黑狗，“我想请求——”

　　“这只狗会和哈利呆一会儿，”丹伯多直截了当地说，“我保证，他训练有素。哈利，我会等到你上床休息。”

　　哈利对于丹伯多让别人别问他，心里对他油然而生一种感激之情。他不是不想他们在这里，但他实在承受不了再重新解释一遍，重温一遍。

　　“我一见到法治，就会回来看你的，哈利，”丹伯多说道，“你在这里待到明天，直到我同学校谈过以后。”然后他走了。

　　当波姆弗雷夫人领哈利到附近的一张床时，他看到了真正的莫迪正一动不动地躺在房间的另一头的床上。他的木腿和魔眼正放在床边柜台上。

　　“他好吗？”哈利问道。

　　“他会好的，”波姆弗雷夫人说道。她拿了睡衣给哈利，又在他周围拉起了床帘。哈利脱下袍子，换上睡衣，上了床。罗恩、荷米恩、比尔，威斯里夫人和黑狗围在床帘边，分别坐在了他四边的椅子上。罗恩、荷米恩好像害怕他一样，小心翼翼地看着他。

　　“我很好，”哈利告诉他们，“就是有点累。”

　　当威斯里夫人在抚平他的床罩时，眼睛噙满了泪水。

　　波姆弗雷夫人匆匆地走到她办公室，带来了一个高脚酒杯和一小瓶紫色药剂。

　　“哈利，你要喝下这些，”她说，“这是一种保证睡眠不做梦的药。”

　　哈利接过酒杯，喝了几口。立刻他觉得晕晕乎乎的、周围的一切都变得模糊起来，房间里的灯好像透过他的床帘在他的床边友好地眨着眼睛，他的身体好像在暖暖的羽绒床垫中陷得更深了。他还没喝完那药，还没来得及说话，疲惫就将他带进了梦乡。

　　哈利醒来了。那温暖和疲倦使他睁不开眼睛，他又想睡下去。

　　房间里仍然很昏暗，这让他以为夜晚还没过去，他睡得不是很久。

　　这时他听到了旁边的低声轻语。

　　“如果不关门的话，他们会吵醒他的。”

　　“他们在叫什么？肯定没有别的什么事发生了，对不对？”

　　哈利张开了眼睛，他的眼睛累得生疼。有人拿开了他的眼镜，他只能看到近旁威斯里夫人和比尔模糊的轮廓。威斯里夫人正蹲着。

　　“那是法治的声音，”她咕哝着，“还有，麦康娜的，是不是？

　　他们究竟在争执些什么呢？“

　　哈利可以听清了，有人在边吵边走向医院厢房。

　　“让人遗憾，但仍然，麦康娜——”可尼里斯。法治大声说道。

　　“你本来就不应该把它带进城堡里。”麦康娜教授叫道，“丹伯多发现时——”

　　哈利听见医院的门被撞开了。比尔重打开了布帘，所有其他床边的人，都看着那门，他们没有注意到哈利坐了起来，戴上了眼镜。

　　法治大步流星地走进病房。麦康娜和史纳皮紧跟其后。

　　“丹伯多在哪儿？”法治问威斯里夫人。

　　“他不在这儿，”威斯里夫人生气地说，“这是个病房，先生，你难道不觉得你最好——”

　　但此时门开了，丹伯多飞快地走进病房。

　　“发生了什么事？”丹伯多看看法治和麦康娜说，“你们为什么打扰这些人？米尼维，我感到很惊讶——我叫你守着内卜。克劳斯”没有必要再守着他了，丹伯多，“她尖声说道，”这先生已找人照料他了。“

　　哈利从来没有看过麦康娜教授像现在这样失去控制，她脸颊上现出愤怒的颜色，她的手成拳头，她愤怒得在颤抖。

　　“当我们告诉法治先生我们已抓住了导致今晚事件的食尸者时，”史纳皮低沉地说道，“他似乎觉得其个人安全成了问题。他坚持唤进一个得蒙特陪他进城堡。他把它带到内卜。克劳斯所在的办公室。”

　　“我告诉过他您是不会同意的，丹伯多，”麦康娜教授愤怒地吼道，“我告诉他您是决不会允许得蒙特们踏进城堡一步，但是——”

　　“我尊敬的女士！”法治吼道，哈利同样也没看过他这样愤怒，“作为魔法大臣，我有权决定是否随身带保镖，当我访问一个很可能是危险的——”

　　但麦康娜教授的声音盖过了法治的。

　　“那东西一进房间的那一刻，”她尖叫道，浑身发抖地指着法治，“它猛扑上克劳斯，就——”

　　哈利肚子里感到一阵阴冷，当麦康娜教授拼命地想法形容发生的事的时候。他就明白了。得蒙特干了什么——它给了巴地克劳斯致命的一吻，它通过嘴把克劳斯的灵魂吸了出来——这比死还更糟糕。

　　“但无论如何，他仍完好无缺，”法治大叫大嚷道，“他应该是对这几个死亡的人负责的。”

　　“但他说不出证言了，可尼斯。”丹伯多说道。他狠狠地盯着法治，好像这是第一次看到他一样。“他给不出证据为什么会杀死那些人。”

　　“为什么会杀死他们？那毫无疑问，对不对？”法治嚷道，“他是个大疯子！从麦康娜和赛维罗斯告诉我的看来，他似乎认为他做这些，是遵从——‘那个人’的旨意。”

　　“公爵福尔得摩特是指令他，可尼斯。”丹伯多说道，“那些人的死只不过是为使福尔得摩特恢复完整力量的，那计划已经成功了，福尔得摩特已经回到了他们身体里。”

　　法治就好像是脸上被重重地打了一拳一样，呆呆地看着。他迷迷糊糊地眨了眨眼睛，又看看丹伯多，好像不敢相信方才听到的一切。

　　他盯着丹伯多，开始急促地乱说，“‘那个人……回来了？荒谬。丹伯多，好了……”

　　“无疑就像米尼维和赛维罗斯告诉你一样，”丹伯多说道，“我们听到内卜。克劳斯供认了。在福尔得摩特的影响下，他告诉我们他是怎样挣扎从阿兹克班出来的，福尔得摩特在从珀茜·佐金斯处知道他仍活着——就从他父亲那里把他释放了出来，并利用他来抓获了哈利，告诉你，那计划生效了，克劳斯帮了福尔得摩特返回来了。”

　　“注意，丹伯多，”法治说道。哈利吃惊地发现在他脸上出现了一丝明亮的笑容。“你——你不能真的信那些话，你知道谁回来了？

　　好了好了……当然，克劳斯可能相信他自己是接‘那个人’的指令行动的——但要把那样一个疯子的话当真，丹伯多……“

　　“当哈利今晚碰了那三人魔法杯时，他被直接送到福尔得摩特手里，”丹伯多平稳地说，“他亲眼看到福尔得摩特的再生，如果你跟我来我的办公室的话，我会把一切解释给你听的。”

　　丹伯多瞥了哈利一眼，看到他已经醒了。丹伯多摇了摇头，说道，“恐怕今晚我不能让你问哈利了。”

　　法治那奇怪的笑僵住了。

　　他也瞥了哈利一眼，又看了看丹伯多，说，“你准备把哈利的话当真？”

　　接下来是一片寂静，西里斯的汪汪声打破了这寂静。他竖起了颈上的毛，朝法治毗牙咧嘴。

　　“我当然相信哈利，”丹伯多目光炯炯地说道。“我听了克劳斯的供认，听了哈利关于他碰了三巫师赛奖杯以后发生的事的描述。

　　两者都会合情合理地解释了在去年夏天珀茜·佐金斯失踪以后所发生的事。“

　　法治仍带着那奇怪的笑容。在回答之前，他再一次望了哈利一眼，“你要相信那疯狂的杀手和一个小孩的话，说什么公爵福尔得摩特回来了？唉……”

　　法治又瞪了哈利一眼，哈利刹那间明白了。

　　“你读过理特。史姬特的报导，法治先生。”他静静地说。

　　罗恩、荷米恩，威斯里夫人和比尔都跳了起来。他们都不知道哈利已经醒了。

　　法治稍微红了脸，但脸上浮现了一种倔强顽固的神情。

　　“是又怎么样？”他看着丹伯多，说道，“如果我发现你对某些有关这小孩的事情保密着？一个普塞尔摩斯，嗯？老是在表演滑稽戏？——”“我肯定你是指哈利由于伤痕而经受的痛苦？”丹伯多冷冷地说。

　　“你承认了他的疼痛了？”法治很快地说，“是头痛吗？是恶梦？

　　又可能是——‘幻觉’？“

　　“听我说，可尼斯，”丹伯多说道。他向着法治走前一步，又一次发出一种不可名状的力量，“哈利就如同你我一样有理智，他前额上的伤疤并没有使他头脑混乱不清。我相信在福尔得摩特在他近旁，一副凶杀相时，曾经伤害过他。”

　　法治退后了半步，但仍然那么执拗，“你要原谅我，丹伯多，但我以前曾听说过作为一种警铃的被诅咒的伤痕……”

　　“我是看到福尔得摩特回来了，”哈利叫道。他又想跳下床来，但被威斯里夫人拦住了。“我看到了那些食尸者！我可以说出他们的名字，露布斯。马尔夫——”

　　史纳皮突然动了一下，但当哈利看他时，他的眼睛飞快地扫了法治一眼。

　　“马尔夫已经被排除了，”法治明显被冒犯了，他说道，“那是一个老家族，为优秀的事业而贡献——”

　　“麦那亚。”哈利继续说。

　　“也被排除了！现在正为部长工作。”

　　“——克来伯——高尔。”

　　“你只是在重复那些十三年前就被宣布不是食尸者的人的名字！”法治生气地说，“你可以在审判的旧记录里找到那些名字。看在上帝份上，丹伯多——这男孩子在去年底也是充满了那些古怪的故事——他的故事越编越大，你却照信不误——这男孩会对蛇说话呀，丹伯多，还觉得他可信吗？”

　　“你这个笨蛋，”麦康娜喊道，“塞德里克。迪格瑞以及克劳斯先生这些人的死决不是一个疯子的随意所为。”

　　“我也看不出是有计谋的！”法治喊道，跟她的愤怒相对的，是他气得发紫的脸，“对我来说，你们都决心挑起一阵恐慌，来破坏我们过去十三年营造的稳定！”

　　哈利不能相信所听到的。他一直都觉得法治是个善良的人，有点胡说八道，有点夸夸其谈，但本质上是好的，但现在站在面前的是一个胆小、怒气冲冲的巫师，他直率地拒绝接受在他舒适而井然有序的世界里所出现的破坏——不相信福尔得摩特能复活。

　　“福尔得摩特回来了。”丹伯多重复说，“如果你立刻接受这事实，并采取必要的措施，我们仍可能挽救局势，最初和最首要的步骤是使阿兹克班脱离得蒙特的控制。”

　　“荒唐！”法治又叫道，“调开得蒙特！我一提这建议，就会被踢出这职位！我们知道有得蒙特守护在阿兹克班有一半人才会在夜里睡得安稳。”

　　“其余的人睡得没那么踏实，可尼斯，如果知道你把福尔得摩特最危险的支持者放在一群——他召唤即会响应的动物手中。”丹伯多说道，“他们不会再对您忠诚，法治！福尔得摩特可以给他们提供更大的权力、更多的快乐！只要在他身后有得蒙特，有回来的老的支持者，你会很难阻止他恢复十三年前的那种力量。”

　　法治的嘴一张一合，好像他的怒气难以用言语形容。

　　“你必须采取的第一步——马上，”丹伯多继续说，“就是向巨人们派使者。”

　　“向巨人们派使者？”法治尖叫道，仿佛大有话说了，“这是什么疯狂的主意？”

　　“向他们伸出友谊之手，在还不是太迟之前，”丹伯多说，“否则的话，福尔得摩特会像以前一样说服他们，说他一个巫师就能给人们权力和自由。”

　　“你——你不是说真的吧！”法治喘着气说。他摇了摇头，又向丹伯多退后了，“如果整个魔法团体中传开了我接近那些巨人们……人们恨他们，丹伯多——那就会结束了我的事业。”

　　“你瞎了眼了，”丹伯多说道，他提高了声音，他周围有一种明显的有力量的氛围。他又闪了一下眼睛，“你被对你职权的热爱蒙住眼了，可尼斯！你总是像以往那样，太过重视所谓的纯种的血。

　　你不能看出关键的不是出生的是什么人，而是他们将长成什么人。

　　你的得蒙特刚刚破坏了最后一个纯种血缘的家族的最后存留的一个成员——看看那人将怎样塑造他的生命。我现在告诉你——按我刚才建议的步骤做，你就会在职位内外被誉为我们所知道的最勇敢和最伟大的魔法大师。不按着做的话，历史就会记住是你偏离了正道，给予福尔得库特第二次机会摧毁我们努力创建的世界。“

　　“不清醒，”法治咕咬着，更加退后了，“疯狂。”

　　一片寂静。波姆弗雷夫人正一动不动地站在哈利床脚边，手捂着嘴。威斯里夫人对着哈利站着，手搭在他肩上不让他起来。比尔、罗恩和荷术恩正盯着法治。

　　“如果你决意蒙住双眼，可尼斯，”丹伯多说，“那我们只有分道扬镳了。你走你的独木桥，我走我的阳关道。”

　　丹伯多声音里丝毫不带威胁，但却使法治怒发冲冠，好像丹伯多正拿着魔杖向他走来一样。

　　“看这，丹伯多，”他挥着指头威胁说道，“我总是给你自主权。

　　我很尊敬