Chapter 37 The Beginning

When he looked back, even a month later, Harry found he had only scattered memories of the next few days. It was as though he had been through too much to take in any more. The recollections he did have were very painful. The worst, perhaps, was the meeting with the Diggory's that took place the following morning.

They did not blame him for what had happened; on the contrary, both thanked him for returning Cedric's body to them. Mr. Diggory sobbed through most of the interview. Mrs. Diggory's grief seemed to be beyond tears.

“He suffered very little then,” she said, when Harry had told her how Cedric had died. “And after all, Amos…he died just when he'd won the tournament. He must have been happy.”

When they got to their feet, she looked down at Harry and said, “You look after yourself, now.”

Harry seized the sack of gold on the bedside table.

“You take this,” he muttered to her. “It should've been Cedric's, he got there first, you take it -”

But she backed away from him.

“Oh no, it's yours, dear, I couldn't…you keep it.”

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Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower the following evening. From what Hermione and Ron told him, Dumbledore had spoken to the school that morning at breakfast. He had merely requested that they leave Harry alone, that nobody ask him questions or badger him to tell the story of what had happened in the maze. Most people, he noticed, were skirting him in the corridors, avoiding his eyes. Some whispered behind their hands as he passed. He guessed that many of them had believed Rita Skeeter's article about how disturbed and possibly dangerous he was. Perhaps they were formulating their own theories about how Cedric had died. He found he didn't care very much. He liked it best when he was with Ron and Hermione and they were talking about other things, or else letting him sit in silence while they played chess. He felt as though all three of them had reached an understanding they didn't need to put into words; that each was waiting for some sign, some word, of what was going on outside Hogwarts - and that it was useless to speculate about what might be coming until they knew anything for certain. The only time they touched upon the subject was when Ron told Harry about a meeting Mrs. Weasley had had with Dumbledore before going home.

“She went to ask him if you could come straight to us this summer,” he said. “But he wants you to go back to the Dursleys, at least at first.”

“Why?” said Harry.

“She said Dumbledore's got his reasons,” said Ron, shaking his head darkly. “I suppose we've got to trust him, haven't we?”

The only person apart from Ron and Hermione that Harry felt able to talk to was Hagrid. As there was no longer a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, they had those lessons free. They used the one on Thursday afternoon to go down and visit Hagrid in his cabin. It was a bright and sunny day; Fang bounded out of the open door as they approached, barking and wagging his tail madly.

“Who's that?” called Hagrid, coming to the door. “Harry!”

He strode out to meet them, pulled Harry into a one-armed hug, ruffled his hair, and said, “Good ter see yeh, mate. Good ter see yeh.”

They saw two bucket-size cups and saucers on the wooden table in front of the fireplace when they entered Hagrid's cabin.

“Bin havin’ a cuppa with Olympe,” Hagrid said. “She's jus’ left.”

“Who?” said Ron curiously.

“Madame Maxime, o’ course!” said Hagrid.

“You two made up, have you?” said Ron.

“Dunno what yeh're talkin’ about,” said Hagrid airily, fetching more cups from the dresser. When he had made tea and offered around a plate of doughy cookies, he leaned back in his chair and surveyed Harry closely through his beetle-black eyes.

“You all righ'?” he said gruffly

“Yeah,” said Harry.

“No, yeh're not,” said Hagrid. “Course yeh're not. But yeh will be.”

Harry said nothing.

“Knew he was goin’ ter come back,” said Hagrid, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up at him, shocked. “Known it fer years. Harry. Knew he was out there, bidin’ his time. It had ter happen. Well, now it has, an’ we'll jus’ have ter get on with it. We'll fight. Migh’ be able ter stop him before he gets a good hold. That's Dumbledores plan, anyway. Great man, Dumbledore. ‘S long as we've got him, I'm not too worried.”

Hagrid raised his bushy eyebrows at the disbelieving expressions on their faces.

“No good sittin’ worryin’ abou’ it,” he said. “What's comin’ will come, an we'll meet it when it does. Dumbledore told me wha’ you did. Harry.”

Hagrid's chest swelled as he looked at Harry.

“Yeh did as much as yer father would've done, an’ I can’ give yeh no higher praise than that.”

Harry smiled back at him. It was the first time he'd smiled in days. “What's Dumbledore asked you to do, Hagrid?” he asked. “He sent Professor McGonagall to ask you and Madame Maxime to meet him - that night.”

“Got a little job fer me over the summer,” said Hagrid. “Secret, though. I'm not s'pposed ter talk abou’ it, no, not even ter you lot. Olympe - Madame Maxime ter you - might be comin’ with me. I think she will. Think I got her persuaded.”

“Is it to do with Voldemort?”

Hagrid flinched at the sound of the name.

“Migh’ be,” he said evasively. “Now…who'd like ter come an’ visit the las’ skrewt with me? I was jokin’ - jokin'!” he added hastily, seeing the looks on their faces.

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It was with a heavy heart that Harry packed his trunk up in the dormitory on the night before his return to Privet Drive. He was dreading the Leaving Feast, which was usually a cause for celebration, when the winner of the Inter-House Championship would be announced. He had avoided being in the Great Hall when it was full ever since he had left the hospital wing, preferring to eat when it was nearly empty to avoid the stares of his fellow students.

When he, Ron, and Hermione entered the Hall, they saw at once that the usual decorations were missing. The Great Hall was normally decorated with the winning House's colors for the Leaving Feast. Tonight, however, there were black drapes on the wall behind the teachers’ table. Harry knew instantly that they were there as a mark of respect to Cedric.

The real Mad-Eye Moody was at the staff table now, his wooden leg and his magical eye back in place. He was extremely twitchy, jumping every time someone spoke to him. Harry couldn't blame him; Moody's fear of attack was bound to have been increased by his ten-month imprisonment in his own trunk. Professor Karkaroff's chair was empty. Harry wondered, as he sat down with the other Gryffindors, where Karkaroff was now, and whether Voldemort had caught up with him.

Madame Maxime was still there. She was sitting next to Hagrid. They were talking quietly together. Further along the table, sitting next to Professor McGonagall, was Snape. His eyes lingered on Harry for a moment as Harry looked at him. His expression was difficult to read. He looked as sour and unpleasant as ever. Harry continued to watch him, long after Snape had looked away.

What was it that Snape had done on Dumbledores orders, the night that Voldemort had returned? And why…why…was Dumbledore so convinced that Snape was truly on their side? He had been their spy, Dumbledore had said so in the Pensieve. Snape had turned spy against Voldemort, “at great personal risk.” Was that the job he had taken up again? Had he made contact with the Death Eaters, perhaps? Pretended that he had never really gone over to Dumbledore, that he had been, like Voldemort himself, biding his time?

Harry's musings were ended by Professor Dumbledore, who stood up at the staff table. The Great Hall, which in any case had been less noisy than it usually was at the Leaving Feast, became very quiet.

“The end,” said Dumbledore, looking around at them all, “of another year.”

He paused, and his eyes fell upon the Hufflepuff table. Theirs had been the most subdued table before he had gotten to his feet, and theirs were still the saddest and palest faces in the Hall.

“There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight,” said Dumbledore, “but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here,” he gestured toward the Hufflepuffs, “enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory.”

They did it, all of them; the benches scraped as everyone in the Hall stood, and raised their goblets, and echoed, in one loud, low, rumbling voice, “Cedric Diggory.”

Harry caught a glimpse of Cho through the crowd. There were tears pouring silently down her face. He looked down at the table as they all sat down again.

“Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house,” Dumbledore continued. “He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about.”

Harry raised his head and stared at Dumbledore.

“Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort.”

A panicked whisper swept the Great Hall. People were staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, in horror. He looked perfectly calm as he watched them mutter themselves into silence.

“The Ministry of Magic,” Dumbledore continued, “does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so - either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory.”

Stunned and frightened, every face in the Hall was turned toward Dumbledore now…or almost every face. Over at the Slytherin table. Harry saw Draco Malfoy muttering something to Crabbe and Goyle. Harry felt a hot, sick swoop of anger in his stomach. He forced himself to look back at Dumbledore.

“There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death,” Dumbledore went on. “I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter.”

A kind of ripple crossed the Great Hall as a few heads turned in Harry's direction before flicking back to face Dumbledore.

“Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort,” said Dumbledore. “He risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him.”

Dumbledore turned gravely to Harry and raised his goblet once more. Nearly everyone in the Great Hall followed suit. They murmured his name, as they had murmured Cedric's, and drank to him. But through a gap in the standing figures. Harry saw that Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and many of the other Slytherins had remained defiantly in their seats, their goblets untouched. Dumbledore, who after all possessed no magical eye, did not see them.

When everyone had once again resumed their seats, Dumbledore continued, “The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened - of Lord Voldemort's return - such ties are more important than ever before.”

Dumbledore looked from Madame Maxime and Hagrid, to Fleur Delacour and her fellow Beauxbatons students, to Viktor Krum and the Durmstrangs at the Slytherin table. Krum, Harry saw, looked wary, almost frightened, as though he expected Dumbledore to say something harsh.

“Every guest in this Hall,” said Dumbledore, and his eyes lingered upon the Durmstrang students, “will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again - in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.

“It is my belief- and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken - that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst.

“Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory.”

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Harry's trunk was packed; Hedwig was back in her cage on top of it. He, Ron, and Hermione were waiting in the crowded entrance hall with the rest of the fourth years for the carriages that would take them back to Hogsmeade station. It was another beautiful summer's day. He supposed that Privet Drive would be hot and leafy, its flower beds a riot of color, when he arrived there that evening. The thought gave him no pleasure at all.

“'Arry!”

He looked around. Fleur Delacour was hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. Beyond her, far across the grounds. Harry could see Hagrid helping Madame Maxime to back two of the giant horses into their harness. The Beauxbatons carriage was about to take off.

“We will see each uzzer again, I ‘ope,” said Fleur as she reached him, holding out her hand. “I am ‘oping to get a job ‘ere, to improve my Eenglish.”

“It's very good already,” said Ron in a strangled sort of voice. Fleur smiled at him; Hermione scowled.

“Good-bye, ‘Arry,” said Fleur, turning to go. “It ‘az been a pleasure meeting you!”

Harry's spirits couldn't help but lift slightly as he watched Fleur hurry back across the lawns to Madame Maxime, her silvery hair rippling in the sunlight.

Wonder how the Durmstrang students are getting back,” said Ron. “D’ you reckon they can steer that ship without Karkaroff?”

“Karkaroff did not steer,” said a gruff voice. “He stayed in his cabin and let us do the vork.”

Krum had come to say good-bye to Hermione. “Could I have a vord?” he asked her.

“Oh…yes…all right,” said Hermione, looking slightly flustered, and following Krum through the crowd and out of sight.

“You'd better hurry up!” Ron called loudly after her. “The carriages'll be here in a minute!”

He let Harry keep a watch for the carriages, however, and spent the next few minutes craning his neck over the crowd to try and see what Krum and Hermione might be up to. They returned quite soon. Ron stared at Hermione, but her face was quite impassive.

“I liked Diggory,” said Krum abruptly to Harry. “He vos alvays polite to me. Alvays. Even though I vos from Durmstrang - with Karkaroff,” he added, scowling.

“Have you got a new headmaster yet?” said Harry

Krum shrugged. He held out his hand as Fleur had done, shook Harry's hand, and then Ron's. Ron looked as though he was suffering some sort of painful internal struggle. Krum had already started walking away when Ron burst out, “Can I have your autograph?”

Hermione turned away, smiling at the horseless carriages that were now trundling toward them up the drive, as Krum, looking surprised but gratified, signed a fragment of parchment for Ron.

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The weather could not have been more different on the journey back to King's Cross than it had been on their way to Hogwarts the previous September. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had managed to get a compartment to themselves. Pigwidgeon was once again hidden under Ron's dress robes to stop him from hooting continually; Hedwig was dozing, her head under her wing, and Crookshanks was curled up in a spare seat like a large, furry ginger cushion. Harry, Ron, and Hermione talked more fully and freely than they had all week as the train sped them southward. Harry felt as though Dumbledore's speech at the Leaving Feast had unblocked him, somehow. It was less painful to discuss what had happened now. They broke off their conversation about what action Dumbledore might be taking, even now, to stop Voldemort only when the lunch trolley arrived.

When Hermione returned from the trolley and put her money back into her schoolbag, she dislodged a copy of the Daily Prophet that she had been carrying in there. Harry looked at it, unsure whether he really wanted to know what it might say, but Hermione, seeing him looking at it, said calmly, “There's nothing in there. You can look for yourself, but there's nothing at all. I've been checking every day. Just a small piece the day after the third task saying you won the tournament. They didn't even mention Cedric. Nothing about any of it. If you ask me. Fudge is forcing them to keep quiet.”

“He'll never keep Rita quiet,” said Harry. “Not on a story like this.”

“Oh, Rita hasn't written anything at all since the third task,” said Hermione in an oddly constrained voice. “As a matter of fact,” she added, her voice now trembling slightly, “Rita Skeeter isn't going to be writing anything at all for a while. Not unless she wants me to spill the beans on her.”

“What are you talking about?” said Ron.

“I found out how she was listening in on private conversations when she wasn't supposed to be coming onto the grounds,” said Hermione in a rush.

Harry had the impression that Hermione had been dying to tell them this for days, but that she had restrained herself in light of everything else that had happened.

“How was she doing it?” said Harry at once.

“How did you find out?” said Ron, staring at her.

“Well, it was you, really, who gave me the idea. Harry,” she said.

“Did I?” said Harry, perplexed. “How?”

“Bugging,” said Hermione happily.

“But you said they didn't work -”

“Oh not electronic bugs,” said Hermione. “No, you see…Rita Skeeter” - Hermione's voice trembled with quiet triumph - “is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn -”

Hermione pulled a small sealed glass jar out other bag.

“- into a beetle.”

“You're kidding,” said Ron. “You haven't…she's not…”

“Oh yes she is,” said Hermione happily, brandishing the jar at them.

Inside were a few twigs and leaves and one large, fat beetle.

“That's never - you're kidding -” Ron whispered, lifting the jar to his eyes.

“No, I'm not,” said Hermione, beaming. “I caught her on the windowsill in the hospital wing. Look very closely, and you'll notice the markings around her antennae are exactly like those foul glasses she wears.”

Harry looked and saw that she was quite right. He also remembered something.

“There was a beetle on the statue the night we heard Hagrid telling Madame Maxime about his mum!”

“Exactly,” said Hermione. “And Viktor pulled a beetle out of my hair after we'd had our conversation by the lake. And unless I'm very much mistaken, Rita was perched on the windowsill of the Divination class the day your scar hurt. She's been buzzing around for stories all year.”

“When we saw Malfoy under that tree…” said Ron slowly.

“He was talking to her, in his hand,” said Hermione. “He knew, of course. That's how she's been getting all those nice little interviews with the Slytherins. They wouldn't care that she was doing something illegal, as long as they were giving her horrible stuff about us and Hagrid.”

Hermione took the glass jar back from Ron and smiled at the beetle, which buzzed angrily against the glass.

“I've told her I'll let her out when we get back to London,” said Hermione. “I've put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can't transform. And I've told her she's to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can't break the habit of writing horrible lies about people.”

Smiling serenely, Hermione placed the beetle back inside her schoolbag.

The door of the compartment slid open.

“Very clever. Granger,” said Draco Malfoy.

Crabbe and Goyle were standing behind him. All three of them looked more pleased with themselves, more arrogant and more menacing, than Harry had ever seen them.

“So,” said Malfoy slowly, advancing slightly into the compartment and looking slowly around at them, a smirk quivering on his lips. “You caught some pathetic reporter, and Potter's Dumbledore's favorite boy again. Big deal.”

His smirk widened. Crabbe and Goyle leered.

“Trying not to think about it, are we?” said Malfoy softly, looking around at all three of them. “Trying to pretend it hasn't happened?”

“Get out,” said Harry.

He had not been this close to Malfoy since he had watched him muttering to Crabbe and Goyle during Dumbledores speech about Cedric. He could feel a kind of ringing in his ears. His hand gripped his wand under his robes.

“You've picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this!” He jerked his head at Ron and Hermione. “Too late now. Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well - second - Diggory was the f-”

It was as though someone had exploded a box of fireworks within the compartment. Blinded by the blaze of the spells that had blasted from every direction, deafened by a series of bangs, Harry blinked and looked down at the floor.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all lying unconscious in the doorway. He, Ron, and Hermione were on their feet, all three of them having used a different hex. Nor were they the only ones to have done so.

“Thought we'd see what those three were up to,” said Fred matter-of-factly, stepping onto Goyle and into the compartment. He had his wand out, and so did George, who was careful to tread on Malfoy as he followed Fred inside.

“Interesting effect,” said George, looking down at Crabbe. “Who used the Furnunculus Curse?”

“Me,” said Harry.

“Odd,” said George lightly. “I used Jelly-Legs. Looks as though those two shouldn't be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face. Well, let's not leave them here, they don't add much to the decor.”

Ron, Harry, and George kicked, rolled, and pushed the unconscious Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle - each of whom looked distinctly the worse for the jumble of jinxes with which they had been hit - out into the corridor, then came back into the compartment and rolled the door shut.

“Exploding Snap, anyone?” said Fred, pulling out a pack of cards.

They were halfway through their fifth game when Harry decided to ask them.

“You going to tell us, then?” he said to George. “Who you were blackmailing?”

“Oh,” said George darkly. “That.”

“It doesn't matter,” said Fred, shaking his head impatiently. “It wasn't anything important. Not now, anyway.”

“We've given up,” said George, shrugging.

But Harry, Ron, and Hermione kept on asking, and finally, Fred said, “All right, all right, if you really want to know…it was Ludo Bagman.”

“Bagman?” said Harry sharply. “Are you saying he was involved in -”

“Nah,” said George gloomily. “Nothing like that. Stupid git. He wouldn't have the brains.”

“Well, what, then?” said Ron.

Fred hesitated, then said, “You remember that bet we had with him at the Quidditch World Cup? About how Ireland would win, but Krum would get the Snitch?”

“Yeah,” said Harry and Ron slowly.

“Well, the git paid us in leprechaun gold he'd caught from the Irish mascots.”

“So?”

“So,” said Fred impatiently, “it vanished, didn't it? By next morning, it had gone!”

“But - it must've been an accident, mustn't it?” said Hermione.

George laughed very bitterly.

“Yeah, that's what we thought, at first. We thought if we just wrote to him, and told him he'd made a mistake, he'd cough up. But nothing doing. Ignored our letter. We kept trying to talk to him about it at Hogwarts, but he was always making some excuse to get away from us.”

“In the end, he turned pretty nasty,” said Fred. “Told us we were too young to gamble, and he wasn't giving us anything.”

“So we asked for our money back,” said George glowering.

“He didn't refuse!” gasped Hermione.

“Right in one,” said Fred.

“But that was all your savings!” said Ron.

“Tell me about it,” said George. “'Course, we found out what was going on in the end. Lee Jordan's dad had had a bit of trouble getting money off Bagman as well. Turns out he's in big trouble with the goblins. Borrowed loads of gold off them. A gang of them cornered him in the woods after the World Cup and took all the gold he had, and it still wasn't enough to cover all his debts. They followed him all the way to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. He's lost everything gambling. Hasn't got two Galleons to rub together. And you know how the idiot tried to pay the goblins back?”

“How?” said Harry.

“He put a bet on you, mate,” said Fred. “Put a big bet on you to win the tournament. Bet against the goblins.”

“So that's why he kept trying to help me win!” said Harry. “Well - I did win, didn't I? So he can pay you your gold!”

“Nope,” said George, shaking his head. “The goblins play as dirty as him. They say you drew with Diggory, and Bagman was betting you'd win outright. So Bagman had to run for it. He did run for it right after the third task.”

George sighed deeply and started dealing out the cards again.

The rest of the journey passed pleasantly enough; Harry wished it could have gone on all summer, in fact, and that he would never arrive at King's Cross…but as he had learned the hard way that year, time will not slow down when something unpleasant lies ahead, and all too soon, the Hogwarts Express was pulling in at platform nine and three-quarters. The usual confusion and noise filled the corridors as the students began to disembark. Ron and Hermione struggled out past Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, carrying their trunks. Harry, however, stayed put.

“Fred - George - wait a moment.”

The twins turned. Harry pulled open his trunk and drew out his Triwizard winnings.

“Take it,” he said, and he thrust the sack into George's hands.

“What?” said Fred, looking flabbergasted.

“Take it,” Harry repeated firmly. “I don't want it.”

“You're mental,” said George, trying to push it back at Harry.

“No, I'm not,” said Harry. “You take it, and get inventing. It's for the joke shop.”

“He is mental,” Fred said in an almost awed voice.

“Listen,” said Harry firmly. “If you don't take it, I'm throwing it down the drain. I don't want it and I don't need it. But I could do with a few laughs. We could all do with a few laughs. I've got a feeling we're going to need them more than usual before long.”

“Harry,” said George weakly, weighing the money bag in his hands, “there's got to be a thousand Galleons in here.”

“Yeah,” said Harry, grinning. “Think how many Canary Creams that is.”

The twins stared at him.

“Just don't tell your mum where you got it…although she might not be so keen for you to join the Ministry anymore, come to think of it.…”

“Harry,” Fred began, but Harry pulled out his wand.

“Look,” he said flatly, “take it, or I'll hex you. I know some good ones now. Just do me one favor, okay? Buy Ron some different dress robes and say they're from you.”

He left the compartment before they could say another word, stepping over Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were still lying on the floor, covered in hex marks.

Uncle Vernon was waiting beyond the barrier. Mrs. Weasley was close by him. She hugged Harry very tightly when she saw him and whispered in his ear, “I think Dumbledore will let you come to us later in the summer. Keep in touch, Harry.”

“See you. Harry,” said Ron, clapping him on the back.

“'Bye, Harry!” said Hermione, and she did something she had never done before, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Harry - thanks,” George muttered, while Fred nodded fervently at his side.

Harry winked at them, turned to Uncle Vernon, and followed him silently from the station. There was no point worrying yet, he told himself, as he got into the back of the Dursleys’ car.

As Hagrid had said, what would come, would come…and he would have to meet it when it did.

甚至一个月后回首时，哈利都发现他对连接下来几天发生的事都所知无几。似乎他经历了太多而记不下来了，他想拥有的记忆却是让人痛苦的，其中最坏的，可能是第二天早晨与迪格瑞夫妇的见面了。

　　他们没有为发生的事责备他，相反，他们还感谢他把塞德里克的尸体带回给他们。迪格瑞夫妇在大部分会面时间里都是抽泣着。

　　“那他受了很少苦头，”当哈利告诉她塞德里克怎样死的时候，她说道，“毕竟，他是在赢了比赛时死的。他肯定很开心。”

　　当他们站起身时，她看着哈利说：“现在，你要照顾你自己了。”

　　哈利抓起床头柜上的那袋金子。

　　“你拿着这个。”他喃喃说道，“应该是塞德里克的，他先到那儿的。你拿着——”

　　但她退回了给他。“不，不，这是你的，亲爱的，我们不能……你留着吧。”

　　第二天晚上哈利回到格林芬顿塔，从荷米恩和罗恩告诉他的看来，丹伯多已在那天早上吃早餐时跟学校说过了。他仅仅要求他们让哈利一人呆着，别人不要问他问题或让他讲述迷宫里发生的故事来烦扰他。他注意到，大多数人都在走廊里沿着他走过的路走，回避着他的眼睛。有些人在他经过时，窃窃私语。他猜想很多人都相信理特。史姬特文章说的他是如何的烦人和危险。可能他们对塞德里克的死形成了自己的看法。但他发觉自己并不在乎。当他同罗恩和荷米恩在一起时，他感觉最好。他们或者谈论其他事情，或者两人下像棋，让他静静地坐着。哈利他们三个好像形成了一种用言语的默契：每个人都在等待某种形像，某些话语，或者霍格瓦彻以外发生的事——要推测将来是没有用的，除非他们确切知道。他们提及那话题的唯—一次是当罗恩告诉威斯里夫人和丹伯多在回家前的一次会面。

　　“她去问丹伯多今年夏天你是否可以直接来我们这，”他说，“但他想让你至少要先回杜斯利里家。”

　　“为什么？”哈利问。

　　“她说丹伯多有他的理由，”罗恩摇摇头表示不知道，“我想我们要相信他，对不对？”

　　除了罗恩和荷米恩以外，哈利可以与之交谈的唯—一人是哈格力。因为再没有了反黑巫术课老师，他们就可以不用上那些课了。

　　在星期三下午的那节课上，他们去他小屋里拜访他。那天阳光明媚，他们来的时候弗兰跳到门前，汪汪直叫，拼命摇摆着尾巴。

　　“是谁呀？”哈格力叫着来到门前，“哈利！”

　　他大步走出来迎接他，一手拥抱了哈利。他搅了搅哈利的头发，说道：“看见你很高兴，小伙子，看到你真高兴！”

　　当他们走进小屋时，他们看到两个水桶大小的杯子和茶托在壁炉旁的一张木桌子上。

　　“刚刚正和欧林普喝茶呢，”哈格力说，“她刚走了。”

　　“谁？”罗恩好奇地问道。

　　“当然是玛西姆夫人了。”哈格力说。

　　“你们俩和好了，是不是？”罗恩问。

　　“就像你说的！”哈格力快活地说。他又从食具柜里拿了更多的杯子出来。他沏好了茶。摆好一碟软的饼干，然后就靠在椅子上，黑黑的眼睛近近地望着哈利。

　　“你好吗？”他粗声说道。

　　“嗯！”哈利说。

　　“不，”哈格力说，“你肯定过得不好，但会好起来的！”

　　哈利什么也没说。

　　“我知道他将要回来了。”哈格力说。哈利，罗恩和荷米恩震动了一下，都抬头看着他。“哈利，知道几年了，知道他在外面。等候良机，总得发生的，好了，现在已经发生了，我们都要得习惯，我们得斗争。在他掌握大局之前，我们可能可以阻止他。那是丹伯多的计划。丹伯多他是伟大的人。只要我们有他，我就放心了。”

　　哈格力扬起浓密的眉毛，看着他们怀疑的神情。

　　“坐着担心是没用的。”他说，“要来的终究会来，我们总会碰到的。哈利，丹伯多告诉了我你的事。”

　　他看着哈利说：“你干得跟你父亲一样棒，我只能给你这些作为最高的赞扬。”

　　哈利朝他笑了笑。这是几天来他第一次笑。

　　“丹伯多叫你干什么了吗？哈格力？”他问道，“那晚，他叫麦康娜教授来叫你，让玛西姆夫人去见他。”

　　“给我分了点夏天的工作，”哈格力说，“不过这是秘密。我不能说，不仅仅对你们。欧林普。玛西姆夫人看——可能会跟我在一起工作。我想她会的，我会说服她的。”

　　“与福尔得摩特有关吗？”

　　听到这名字，哈格力畏缩了。

　　“可能吧，”他回避说，“谁愿意同我一起去参观最后的塞克妮特？开玩笑的——只是开玩笑！”他看着众人的神色，匆忙地说。

　　在他回去普里怀特街的前一晚，哈利心情沉重地在宿舍里收拾皮箱。他害怕告别会，这通常都是庆祝的一个理由，那时会宣布比赛的胜利者。自从他从病房出来后，他就回避去人山人海的大厅。

　　他情愿等到人都走光了才去吃点东西，来回避同学们的观望。

　　当他、罗恩和荷米恩进入大厅时，立刻发现往常的装饰都不见了。通常大厅会为告别会点缀上胜利的颜色。但是，今晚，老师讲台后的墙上却是黑色的装饰。哈利立刻明白这是对塞德里克表示的致敬。

　　真正的莫迪在工作人员台上，身上安装着木腿和假眼。他抽搐得很厉害，别人一跟他讲话他就跳起来。哈利不能责备他。在衣箱里被困了十个月以后，他那种害怕攻击的感觉肯定又加强了。

　　卡克罗夫教授的椅子是空的。哈利坐在另一个格林芬顿桌旁边，在越过卡克罗夫的位子时，心里寻思道，福尔得摩特追上他了吗。

　　马西姆夫人还在那儿，她坐在哈格力旁边。他们静静地交谈着。沿着桌子，坐在麦康娜教授旁的是史纳皮，哈利看他时，他也看着哈利。他的表情令人费解，他仍像以往一样乖戾和郁闷。在史纳皮移开了目光以后，哈利仍在看他。

　　在福尔得摩特回来的那晚，史纳皮按丹伯多指令究竟干了什么？为什么……为什么丹伯多那么坚信史纳皮是真正站在我们这边的。丹伯多曾在皮斯文说过，他是他们的间谍，史纳皮又冒着巨大的个人危险当了福尔得摩特的奸细。那是他再次从事的吗？可能他又联络了食尸者？也许他从没有真正归顺丹伯多，他只不过是和福尔得摩特一样在等待良机？

　　哈利的沉思被从工作组台上站起来的丹伯多教授打断了。大厅变得不像是往常的告别会，异常的安静。

　　丹伯多环视四周，说道：“这是又一个结束。”

　　他停住了，目光落在海夫巴夫台上。在他站起来之前，那是最沉默的。他们也是全厅最悲伤，脸色最苍白的。

　　“今晚我有很多话想对你们说，”丹伯多说道，“但首先我要承认我们失去了一个很好的人。他本应坐在这里。”他手指着海夫巴夫台，“和我们一起享受宴会。我希望所有人起立，为塞德里克。迪格瑞举杯。”

　　大家都这样做了。厅里的人站起来时，板凳嚓嚓作响。他们举起了高脚酒杯。一个低沉的隆隆的巨大的声音回响道：“塞德里克。

　　迪格瑞。“

　　哈利穿过人群瞥了卓一眼。泪水静静地从她的脸上滑下，他们再坐下来时，他面看着卓低头。

　　“塞德里克是海夫巴夫学院优秀传统的例证，”丹伯多继续说，“他是个忠诚的好朋友，辛勤的工作者。他重视公平竞争。不管你们是否了解他，他的死对你们都有影响。因此，我认为你们都有权知道事情的真相。”

　　哈利抬起头，盯着丹伯多。

　　“塞德里克。迪格瑞是被福尔得摩特杀害的。”

　　一阵惊恐的私语扫过了整个大厅，人们怀疑而又惊恐地看着丹伯多。当他看着他们嗡嗡议论转而一片寂静时，他始终面容镇静。

　　“魔法部不想让我告诉你们，”丹伯多继续说，“如果我说了的话，有些家长很可能会吓坏——他们或者会不相信福尔得摩特回来了，或者认为我不应该告诉你们，因为你们年纪还小。但是我相信，真相一般好过谎言。如果假装塞德里克的死是由于事故，或是他自己的过失，都是一种对他的亵渎。”

　　大厅里的每张脸都惊恐地望着丹伯多，现在又彼此相望。在史林德林的桌上，哈利看到杰高。马尔夫正对克来伯和高尔嘀咕着什么。哈利感到身体里涌起了一阵又热又恶心的愤怒。他强迫自己重新望着丹伯多。

　　“还有一个与塞德里克的死有关的人要提到，”丹伯多继续说，“当然，我说的就是哈利·波特。”

　　一阵涟漪扫过大厅。几个人朝哈利望来，又转头面对着丹伯多。

　　“哈利·波特设法从福尔得摩特手上逃了出来，”丹伯多说道，“他奋不顾身地把塞德里克的尸体带回到霍格瓦彻，无论从哪个方面，他都显示了少有的巫师面对黑暗公爵福尔得摩特的勇气。为此，我赞誉他。”

　　丹伯多严肃地转向他，再一次举起酒杯，几乎每个大厅里的人都照着做了。他们念着他的名字就像刚才念塞德里克的一样，还为他干杯。但透过站着的人群的一丝空隙，哈利看到马尔夫，克来伯，高尔和许多其他的史林德林不屑地坐在位子上，动都没动那酒杯。丹伯多毕竟没有魔眼，因此他没看到。

　　当每个人都回复原位时，丹伯多又继续，“三巫师争霸赛的目标是加深和推广对魔法的理解。鉴于所发生的——福尔得摩特的回来——这样的目的比以往都更加重要。”

　　丹伯多看了看玛西姆夫人、哈格力、芙璐和她的比尔顿同学，维克。克伦和史林德林台上的丹姆斯安同学。哈利看到克伦几乎害怕地移开了目光，似乎在期盼哈利说点苛刻的话。

　　“这厅里的每个客人，”丹伯多说道，目光停留在丹姆斯安学生们的身上，“只要他们愿意回来，都随时欢迎。我再说一次——鉴于福尔得库特的返回，我们团结起来就会强大，分裂开来就会弱小。”

　　“福尔得摩特是散播仇恨和不和的高手。我们只有通过强大的友谊和信任的纽带才能与之作斗争。只要我们的目标是共同的，心胸是开阔的，习惯和语言的差异根本不值一提。”

　　“我相信——当然我强烈希望我是错误的——我们都正陷于黑暗和困难之中，这厅里的有些人已经在福尔得摩特手上受过苦了。

　　许多家庭被他弄得支离破碎。一周以前，我们当中的一位学生被夺去了生命。“

　　“请记住塞德里克，记住，如果有一天你要判断是非和难易时，请回想一下发生在这个正直、友善和勇敢的男孩身上的事，因为他没有迷失在福尔得摩特的道路里。请纪念塞德里克。迪格瑞。”

　　哈利的皮箱已经塞满了，海维回来了，在皮箱上面的笼子里。

　　他、罗恩和荷米恩正在拥挤的入口同其他的四年级学生一起等待着带他们回到霍格瓦彻站的火车。又是一个艳阳天。他猜想当他晚上到达时，普里怀特街会很热，树叶很密，花坛里长满五光十色的花。但他一点儿也不为这想法感到愉快。

　　“哈利！”

　　他看看四周。芙璐·迪来高正急急忙忙地登上城堡的石阶。在她身后远处的地方，哈利看到哈格力正帮着玛西姆夫人给两匹大马套上全新马具。比尔贝顿马车就要出发了。

　　“我希望我们会再见，”芙璐说道。她走过来，伸出了手。“我希望在那里找一份工作，提高我的英语水平。”

　　“这已经很好了。”罗恩用一种装腔作势的声音说。芙璐对他失笑，荷米恩皱了皱眉头。

　　“再见，哈利，”芙璐转身要走了，“见到你很高兴。”

　　当哈利看到芙璐匆忙穿过草地走向玛西姆夫人，银色头发在阳光下如波浪一般时，他的精神禁不住有点飘忽。

　　“我在想卡克罗夫的学生们怎么回去呢？”罗恩说，“你想没有卡克罗夫他们能自己驾船吗？”

　　“卡克罗夫不驾船，”一个粗厚的声音说道，“他留在屋里，让我们干那活儿。”是克伦过来向荷米恩说再见！“我能跟你说句话吗？”他问道。

　　“嗯，好的……可以，”荷米恩有点儿慌乱地说道。她跟着克伦穿过人群，消失在他们视野中。

　　“你最好快点！”罗恩叫她大声喊。“火车一会儿就来了。”

　　但他让哈利留心看着马车。接下来的时间里自己伸长脖子在人群里四处张望，想看看克伦和荷米恩到底在干什么。他们很快就回来了。罗恩盯着荷米恩，但她却表情漠然。

　　“我喜欢迪格瑞。”克伦突然对哈利说，“他对我总是很礼貌，即使我是跟卡克罗夫从丹姆斯安来的。”他皱眉说。

　　“你们有新校长了吗？”哈利问。

　　克伦耸了耸肩。他就像芙璐一样伸出手，同哈利和罗恩握了握手。

　　罗恩看起来似乎在经受某种痛苦的内心挣扎。克伦已经开始走了，这时罗恩突然叫道，“能给我签个名吗？”

　　荷米恩转过身去，微笑地看着那沉甸甸的火车正在车道上笨重地驶来，而克伦面露惊讶但很高兴地在罗恩的一角羊皮纸上签了名。

　　回去金克斯的途中和去年九月去霍格瓦彻路上的天气截然不同。哈利、罗恩和荷米恩设法要了一个车厢的隔间。皮威军又藏在罗恩的袍子下面，海维的头埋在翅膀下面，昏昏欲睡。哈利、罗恩和荷米恩在这时是一周里谈得最欢的。火车越来越快地向南驶去。

　　哈利觉得丹伯多在告别会上的讲话在某种程度上令他释然了。现在来讨论发生过的事也已经没那么令人心痛了。说到丹伯多现在可能会采取什么措施来对付福尔得摩特时，他们中断了谈话，因为午餐的小推车来了。

　　当荷米恩从餐车上回来，把钱放进书包里时，她取出来一份《先知日报》。

　　哈利看了看，拿不准是否想知道里面说的是什么。

　　但荷米恩见此情景，就镇静地说，“那没说什么。你可以自己看看，但里面确实没有什么。我每天都查看的。有一天有一小段说到你赢了比赛，他们没提到塞德里克，什么也没提到。我想，是法治强迫他们闭嘴的。”

　　“他无法使理特闭嘴，”哈利说，“尤其是这样一个故事。”

　　“哦，理特自从第二次任务以来就没再写什么了。”荷米恩用一种怪怪的压抑的声音说，“实际上，”她又微颤着说，“理特。史姬特会有一段时间不写东西了。除非她想让我暴露她的秘密。”

　　“你什么意思呀？”罗恩说。

　　“我发现她在没被允许的场合里偷听别人的私人对话。”荷米恩一口气说出来。

　　哈利想她这几天肯定憋不住要告诉他们的，但因为发生了其他的事而忍住了。

　　“她怎样干的？”哈利接着说。

　　“你怎么发现的？”罗恩盯着她说。

　　“好吧，其实是你给我这个想法的，哈利。”她说。

　　“我吗？”哈利困惑地说，“怎么呢？”

　　“窃听。”荷米恩欢快地说。

　　“但你说他们没起作用——”

　　“哦，不是窃听器。”荷米恩说道，“你瞧，理特。史姬特，”荷米恩的声音带着成功感而颤抖着，“是一个没登记的安尼摩格斯。

　　她能变成——“

　　荷米恩从口袋里拿出一个封住的小玻璃瓶。

　　“变成一只甲壳虫。”

　　“你在开玩笑，”罗恩说，“你没有……她不是……”

　　“哦，她是的。”荷米恩开心地向他们挥舞着那瓶子。

　　里面有一些小树枝、树叶，还有一只又肥又大的甲壳虫。

　　“那不可能——你在开玩笑——”罗恩把那瓶子举到眼前，喃喃说道。

　　“不，我不是在开玩笑。”荷米恩喜悦地说，“我是医院病房的窗台上抓到她的。看仔细点儿，你会看到她触角上那些条纹像极了她戴着的可恶的眼镜。”

　　哈利看了看，荷米恩说的很对。他还记得了什么，“我们偷听哈格力给玛西姆夫人讲他妈妈的那天晚上，雕像上也有一个大甲壳虫。”

　　“对！”荷米恩说，“还有，我们在湖边说了话以后，维特从我头发上抓出了一只甲壳虫。还有，除非我记错，那天你的伤疤疼的时候。理特也伏在迪维纳雪课的窗台上。她一年到头都在到处打听事儿。”

　　“我们看到马尔夫在树下时……”罗恩缓缓说道。

　　“他正对着手上的她说话。”荷米恩说道，“他当然知道。怪不得她老是同史林德林的学生亲密交谈。他们才不在乎她干的事合不合法呢，只要向她提供一些关于我们和哈格力的坏消息就行了。”

　　荷米恩从罗恩手里拿回了那瓶子，对着那虫子笑眯眯。那虫子在玻璃瓶里懊恼地嗡嗡乱叫。

　　“我告诉他，我们回到伦敦以后，我就会放了她。”荷米恩说，“我已经在瓶上施了打不破的魔法，所以，她出不来。我还告诉她，她要把那支羽毛笔收起来一年，看看她能不能改掉诬蔑别人的坏习惯。”

　　荷米恩笑嘻嘻地把瓶子放回到书包里了。

　　房间的门轻轻地推开了。

　　“很聪明啊，格林佐。”马尔夫说。

　　克来伯和高尔站在他身后。他们三个无比开心，却又是使哈利觉得他们比以往都无知和危险。

　　“现在，”马尔夫一字一句地说道。他看着他们，慢慢地踏进了厢间，嘴角里露出得意的一笑。“你们抓了个可怜的记者，丹伯多最喜爱的男孩子，大事情啊。”

　　他得意地笑开了向克来伯和高尔斜着眼一瞥。

　　“我们试着不去想它吧，是不是？”马尔夫逐个地看着他们，柔声说道。“假装什么也没有发生？”

　　“出去。”哈利说。

　　“你选了输的一方。我警告你，波特！还记得我告诉过你要谨慎交友吗？在霍格瓦彻的第一天，当我们在火车上碰到时。我告诉过你不要跟这种流氓地痞游游荡荡！”他猛地把头伸到罗恩和荷米恩面前。“现在太迟了，波特！他们会是第一个先走，现在黑暗公爵回来了！杂种和亲马格人最先走。嗯——第二——迪格瑞——”

　　突然好像是有人在车箱里放了一箱爆竹一样，诅咒从四面八方爆炸，让人头昏眼花，砰砰声震耳欲聋。哈利眨眨眼睛，看着地板。

　　现在马尔夫、克来伯、高尔都毫无知觉地躺在门口上。他、罗恩和荷米恩都站着，每个人用了不同的魔法。而且并不是只有他们三个这样做了。

　　这时弗来德踩在高尔身上，走进车厢来，又拿出魔杖。乔治也这样，当他跟着弗来德走进来时，小心翼翼地踩在马尔夫身上。

　　“多么有趣的效果啊，”乔治说。他俯身看着克来伯，“谁用了南方克鲁斯咒语？”

　　“是我。”哈利说道。

　　“真怪，”乔治轻声说，“我用了果冻腿，好像这两样不应该混合起来，他脸上好像长满了触角。好了，我们不要把他们留在这儿吧，他们不好看。”

　　罗恩，哈利和荷米恩踢了踢，又把无知觉的马尔夫、克来伯、高尔翻过来，推走——每个都似乎被混合的咒语打得更坏——把他们拖到走廊里，再回到车箱中，把门关上了。

　　“打牌，有人要玩吗？”弗来德掏出一副牌，问道。

　　当他们打到第五轮中间时，哈利决定问他们：“你告诉我们吧？”他对乔治说，“你们在敲诈谁？”

　　“哦，”乔治表示不知道，“那事儿。”

　　“没关系。”弗来德不耐烦地摇摇头，“它不是什么重要的事，不管怎样，至少现在不是。”

　　“我们放弃了。”乔治耸耸肩说。

　　但哈利、罗恩和荷米恩继续问，最后弗来德说，“好吧，好吧，如果你们真要知道，……是露得。巴格蒙。”

　　“巴格蒙？”哈利尖声说道，“你是说他也牵进了？——”

　　“啊，”乔治忧愁地说，“没有这样的事，蠢蛋。他没头脑。”

　　“啊，那，什么？”罗恩问道。

　　弗来德犹豫了一下，说，“你还记得快迪斯杯上，我们和他的打赌吗？英格兰会赢，但克伦会得到那史尼斯球。”

　　“记得。”哈利和罗恩缓缓地说。

　　“嗯，那家伙用从爱尔兰福神那得到的金子付给我们。”

　　“然后呢？”

　　“然后，”弗来德不耐烦地说，“它消失了。第二天早上它就不见了。”

　　“但——那肯定是意外，对不对？”荷米恩说。

　　乔治苦笑了一下。“嗯，我们开始也是这么想的。我们以为只要写信给他，告诉他出了差错，他就会出声的。但那没用，他不理我们的信。我们在霍格瓦彻曾试图同他谈谈，但他总找借口避开我们。”

　　“最后，他很让人不快，”弗来德说，“他告诉我们，我们要赌博还嫩着呢，其实他根本就没给我们什么。”

　　“所以我们就要求拿回我们的钱。”乔治目露怒气地说。

　　“他拒绝了吗？”荷术思喘着气说。

　　“对了。”弗来德说。

　　“但那是你所有的钱啊！”罗恩说。

　　“告诉你们吧，”乔治说，“当然，我们最后终于发现是怎么回事了。李·乔丹的父亲要巴格蒙给钱时，也遇到了麻烦，原来巴格蒙正与小妖精纠缠不清呢，他向他们借了好多金子。有一群妖精在世界杯后，在树林里拦住了他，搜刮了他所有的金子，但那还不够还债。他们就一路跟踪他来到霍格瓦彻。他已经赔得精光了，一个克拉也不剩，你知道那傻瓜怎样还债吗？”

　　“怎样？”哈利问。

　　“他在你身上打赌，伙伴。”弗来德说，“他押了个大赌注，说你会赢比赛，与妖精们赌。”

　　“怪不得他老是帮我夺取胜利，”哈利说，“我确实赢了，是不是那样他就可以把金子还你们了。”

　　“不，”乔治摇摇头说，“妖精们跟他一样奸诈。他们说你和迪格瑞不分胜负，巴格蒙则说你会全赢，因此巴格蒙就得逃跑避债。

　　从第三次任务以来，他就开始逃了。“

　　乔治深深地叹了口气，又开始摆弄那些牌。

　　接下来的旅程让人非常惬意，哈利真希望整个夏天都这样过下去。实际上希望永远都别到达金克斯。但他那年已学会了承受艰辛。即使前面有令人不快的事，时间也不会缓慢下来。很快霍格瓦彻列车就在第九月台的第三个地区降下速度。学生们开始上月台时，走廊里又出现了通常的嘈杂混乱。罗恩和荷米恩提着皮箱小心绕过马尔夫、克来伯和高尔。

　　哈利停下来了。“弗来德、乔治，等等。”

　　那双胞胎转过身来。哈利拉开皮箱，拿出他在比赛赢得的钱。

　　“拿着吧！”他把那袋金币扔到乔治手里。

　　“什么？”弗来德惊愕地问。

　　“拿去吧，”哈利坚定地说，“我不想要。”

　　“你神经病了？”乔治想塞回给哈利。

　　“不，我没有，”哈利说，“你拿着去搞发明吧。它是给搞笑店的。”

　　“你还是挺聪明的。”弗来德敬畏地说。

　　“听着，”哈利坚定地说，“如果你不要的话，我会扔到下水道里，我不想要，也不需要。有几个笑声对我就够了。我们都要一些笑声。我觉得我们不久会需要更多的笑声。”

　　“哈利，”乔治手里掂着钱的重量，小声地说，“这儿大概有一千帆船币。”

　　“对。”哈利露齿而笑，“想想那是黄油。”

　　那双胞胎望着他。

　　“别告诉你妈妈钱从哪儿来……尽管她可能不像以前那样非常希望你们进入部里，你们仔细考虑一下吧。”

　　“哈利。”弗来德说道，但哈利已伸出了手。

　　“看，”他断然说，“要么收下，要么我用魔法咒你。能帮我个忙吗？给罗恩买些别的袍子，就说是你们给他的。”

　　一说完，他就离开了车厢，跨过马尔夫、克来伯和高尔——他们还躺在地板上，中了魔法。

　　维能姨丈正在栅栏那边！威斯里夫人紧挨着他。一看到哈利，她就紧紧拥抱着他，在他耳边轻声说，“我想丹伯多在九月下旬会让你来我们这的。保持联系，哈利。”

　　“再见，哈利。”罗恩说道，拍了拍他的后背。

　　“再见，哈利。”荷米恩说道，她第一次吻了吻他的脸颊。

　　“哈利，谢谢。”乔治喃喃说道，而弗来德则在他身边热情地点了点头。

　　哈利朝他们眨眨眼睛，就转身走向维能姨丈，跟着他默默走出了车站。现在还没有什么可担心的，他坐上到普里怀特街的车后时，告诉自己，就像哈格力所说的，该来的会来，……当真来到的时候，他就得面对。