Chapter 34 The Department Of Mysteries

Harry wound his hand tightly into the mane of the nearest Thestral, placed a foot on a stump nearby and scrambled clumsily on to the horse's silken back. It did not object, but twisted its head around, fangs bared, and attempted to continue its eager licking of his robes.

He found there was a way of lodging his knees behind the wing joints that made him feel more secure, then looked around at the others. Neville had heaved himself over the back of the next Thestral and was now attempting to swing one short leg over the creature's back. Luna was already in place, sitting side-saddle and adjusting her robes as though she did this every day. Ron, Hermione and Ginny, however, were still standing motionless on the spot, open-mouthed and staring.

‘What?’ he said.

‘How're we supposed to get on?’ said Ron faintly. ‘When we can't see the things?’

‘Oh, it's easy,’ said Luna, sliding obligingly from her Thestral and marching over to him, Hermione and Ginny. ‘Come here ...’

She pulled them over to the other Thestrals standing around and one by one managed to help them on to the back of their mount. All three looked extremely nervous as she wound their hands into their horses mane and told them to grip tightly before she got back on to her own steed.

‘This is mad,’ Ron murmured, moving his free hand gingerly up and down his horse's neck. ‘Mad ... if I could just see it—’

‘You'd better hope it stays invisible,’ said Harry darkly. ‘We all ready, then?’

They all nodded and he saw live pairs of knees tighten beneath their robes.

‘OK ...’

He looked down at the back of his Thestral's glossy black head and swallowed.

‘Ministry of Magic, visitors’ entrance, London, then,’ he said uncertainly. ‘Er ... if you know ... where to go ...’

For a moment Harry's Thestral did nothing at all; then, with a sweeping movement that nearly unseated him, the wings on either side extended; the horse crouched slowly, then rocketed upwards so fast and so steeply that Harry had to clench his arms and legs tightly around the horse to avoid sliding backwards over its bony rump. He closed his eyes and pressed his face down into the horses silky mane as they burst through the topmost branches of the trees and soared out into a blood-red sunset.

Harry did not think he had ever moved so fast: the Thestral streaked over the castle, its wide wings hardly beating; the cooling air was slapping Harry's face; eyes screwed up against the rushing wind, he looked round and saw his five fellows soaring along behind him, each of them bent as low as possible into the neck of their Thestral to protect themselves from his slipstream.

They were over the Hogwarts grounds, they had passed Hogsmeade; Harry could see mountains and gullies below them. As the daylight began to fail, Harry saw small collections of lights as they passed over more villages, then a winding road on which a single car was beetling its way home through the hills ...

‘This is bizarre!’ Harry barely heard Ron yell from somewhere behind him, and he imagined how it must feel to be speeding along at this height with no visible means of support.

Twilight fell: the sky was turning to a light, dusky purple littered with tiny silver stars, and soon only the lights of Muggle towns gave them any clue of how far from the ground they were, or how very fast they were travelling. Harry's arms were wrapped tightly around his horse's neck as he willed it to go even faster. How much time had elapsed since he had seen Sirius lying on the Department of Mysteries floor? How much longer would Sirius be able to resist Voldemort? All Harry knew for sure was that his godfather had neither done as Voldemort wanted, nor died, for he was convinced that either outcome would have caused him to feel Voldemort's jubilation or fury course through his own body, making his scar sear as painfully as it had on the night Mr. Weasley was attacked.

On they flew through the gathering darkness; Harry's face felt stiff and cold, his legs numb from gripping the Thestral's sides so tightly, but he did not dare shift his position lest he slip ... he was deaf from the thundering rush of air in his ears, and his mouth was dry and frozen from the cold night wind. He had lost all sense of how far they had come; all his faith was in the beast beneath him, still streaking purposefully through the night, barely flapping its wings as it sped ever onwards.

If they were too late ...

He's still alive, he's still fighting, I can feel it ...

If Voldemort decided Sirius was not going to crack ...

I'd know ...

Harry's stomach gave a jolt; the Thestral's head was suddenly pointing towards the ground and he actually slid forwards a few inches along its neck. They were descending at last ... he thought he heard a shriek behind him and twisted around dangerously, but could see no sign of a falling body ... presumably they had all received a shock from the change of direction, just as he had.

And now bright orange lights were growing larger and rounder on all sides; they could see the tops of buildings, streams of headlights like luminous insect eyes, squares of pale yellow that were windows. Quite suddenly, it seemed, they were hurtling towards the pavement; Harry gripped the Thestral with every last ounce of his strength, braced for a sudden impact, but the horse touched the dark ground as lightly as a shadow and Harry slid from its back, looking around at the street where the overflowing skip still stood a short way from the vandalised telephone box, both drained of colour in the flat orange glare of the streetlights.

Ron landed a short way off and toppled immediately from his Thestral on to the pavement.

‘Never again,’ he said, struggling to his feet. He made as though to stride away from his Thestral, but, unable to see it, collided with its hindquarters and almost fell over again. Never, ever again ... that was the worst—’

Hermione and Ginny touched down on either side of him: both slid off their mounts a little more gracefully than Ron, though with similar expressions of relief at being back on firm ground; Neville jumped down, shaking; and Luna dismounted smoothly.

‘Where do we go from here, then?’ she asked Harry in a politely interested voice, as though this was all a rather interesting day-trip.

‘Over here,’ he said. He gave his Thestral a quick, grateful pat, then led the way quickly to the battered telephone box and opened the door. ‘Come on!’ he urged the others, as they hesitated.

Ron and Ginny marched in obediently; Hermione, Neville and Luna squashed themselves in after them; Harry took one glance back at the Thestrals, now foraging for scraps of rotten food inside the skip, then forced himself into the box after Luna.

‘Whoever's nearest the receiver, dial six two four four two!’ he said.

Ron did it, his arm bent bizarrely to reach the dial; as it whirred back into place the cool female voice sounded inside the box.

‘Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.’

‘Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger,’ Harry said very quickly, ‘Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood ... we're here to save someone, unless your Ministry can do it first!’

‘Thank you,’ said the cool female voice. ‘Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes.’

Half a dozen badges slid out of the metal chute where returned coins normally appeared. Hermione scooped them up and handed them mutely to Harry over Ginny's head; he glanced at the topmost one, Harry Potter,Rescue Mission.

‘Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wands for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.’

‘Fine!’ Harry said loudly, as his scar gave another throb. ‘Now can we move?’

The floor of the telephone box shuddered and the pavement rose up past its glass windows; the scavenging Thestrals were sliding out of sight; blackness closed over their heads and with a dull grinding noise they sank down into the depths of the Ministry of Magic.

A chink of soft golden light hit their feet and, widening, rose up their bodies. Harry bent his knees and held his wand as ready as he could in such cramped conditions as he peered through the glass to see whether anybody was waiting for them in the Atrium, but it seemed, to be completely empty. The light was dimmer than it had been by day; there were no fires burning under the mantelpieces set into the walls, but as the lift slid smoothly to a halt he saw that golden symbols continued to twist sinuously in the dark blue ceiling.

‘The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening,’ said the woman's voice.

The door of the telephone box burst open; Harry toppled out of it, closely followed by Neville and Luna. The only sound in the Atrium was the steady rush of water from the golden fountain, where jets from the wands of the witch and wizard, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat and the house-elf's ears continued to gush into the surrounding pool.

‘Come on, said Harry quietly and the six of them sprinted off down the hall, Harry in the lead, past the fountain towards the desk where the watchwizard who had weighed Harry's wand had sat, and which was now deserted.

Harry felt sure there ought to be a security person there, sure their absence was an ominous sign, and his feeling of foreboding increased as they passed through the golden gates to the lifts. He pressed the nearest ‘down’ button and a lift clattered into sight almost immediately, the golden grilles slid apart with a great, echoing clanking and they dashed inside. Harry stabbed the number nine button; the grilles closed with a bang and the lift began to descend, jangling and rattling. Harry had not realised how noisy the lifts were on the day he had come with Mr. Weasley; he was sure the din would raise every security person within the building, yet when the lilt halted, the cool female voice said, ‘Department of Mysteries,’ and the grilles slid open. They stepped out into the corridor where nothing was moving out but the nearest torches, flickering in the rush of air from the lift.

Harry turned towards the plain black door. After months and months of dreaming about it, he was here at last.

‘Let's go,’ he whispered, and he led the way down the corridor, Luna right behind him, gazing around with her mouth slightly open.

‘OK, listen,’ said Harry, stopping again within six feet of the door. ‘Maybe ... maybe a couple of people should stay here as a—as a lookout, and—’

‘And how're we going to let you know something's coming?’ asked Ginny, her eyebrows raised. ‘You could be miles away.’

‘We're coming with you, Harry,’ said Neville.

‘Let's get on with it,’ said Ron firmly.

Harry still did not want to take them all with him, but it seemed he had no choice. He turned to face the door and walked forwards ... just as it had in his dream, it swung open and he marched over the threshold, the others at his heels.

They were standing in a large, circular room. Everything in here was black including the floor and ceiling; identical, unmarked, handleless black doors were set at intervals all around the black walls, interspersed with branches of candles whose flames burned blue; their cool, shimmering light reflected in the shining marble floor made it look as though there was dark water underfoot.

‘Someone shut the door,’ Harry muttered.

He regretted giving this order the moment Neville had obeyed it. Without the long chink of light from the torchlit corridor behind them, the place became so dark that for a moment the only things they could see were the bunches of shivering blue flames on the walls and their ghostly reflections in the floor.

In his dream, Harry had always walked purposefully across this room to the door immediately opposite the entrance and walked on. But there were around a dozen doors here. Just as he was gazing ahead at the doors opposite him, trying to decide which was the right one, there was a great rumbling noise and the candles began to move sideways. The circular wall was rotating.

Hermione grabbed Harry's arm as though frightened the floor might move, too, but it did not. For a few seconds, the blue flames around them were blurred to resemble neon lines as the wall sped around; then, quite as suddenly as it had started, the rumbling stopped and everything became stationary once again.

Harry's eyes had blue streaks burned into them; it was all he could see.

‘What was that about?’ whispered Ron fearfully.

‘I think it was to stop us knowing which door we came in through,’ said Ginny in a hushed voice.

Harry realised at once she was right: he could no sooner identify the exit door than locate an ant on the jet-black floor; and the door through which they needed to proceed could be any one of the dozen surrounding them.

‘How're we going to get back out?’ said Neville uncomfortably.

‘Well, that doesn't matter now,’ said Harry forcefully, blinking to try to erase the blue lines from his vision, and clutching his wand tighter than ever, ‘we won't need to get out till we've found Sirius—’

‘Don't go calling for him, though!’ Hermione said urgently; but Harry had never needed her advice less, his instinct was to keep as quiet as possible.

‘Where do we go, then, Harry?’ Ron asked.

‘I don't—’ Harry began. He swallowed. ‘In the dreams I went through the door at the end of the corridor from the lifts into a dark room—that's this one—and then I went through another door into a room that kind of ... glitters. We should try a few doors,’ he said hastily, ‘I'll know the right way when I see it. C'mon.’

He marched straight at the door now facing him, the others following close behind him, set his left hand against its cool, shining surface, raised his wand ready to strike the moment it opened, and pushed.

It swung open easily.

After the darkness of the first room, the lamps hanging low on golden chains from this ceiling gave the impression that this long rectangular room was much brighter, though there were no glittering, shimmering lights as Harry had seen in his dreams. The place was quite empty except for a few desks and, in the very middle of the room, an enormous glass tank of deep green liquid, big enough for all of them to swim in; a number of pearly-white objects were drifting around lazily in it.

‘What're those things?’ whispered Ron.

‘Dunno,’ said Harry.

‘Are they fish?’ breathed Ginny.

‘Aquavirius Maggots!’ said Luna excitedly. ‘Dad said the Ministry were breeding—’

‘No,’ said Hermione. She sounded odd. She moved forward to look through the side of the tank. ‘They're brains.’

‘Brains?’

‘Yes ... I wonder what they're doing with them?’

Harry joined her at the tank. Sure enough, there could be no mistake now he saw them at close quarters. Glimmering eerily, they drifted in and out of sight in the depths of the green liquid, looking something like slimy cauliflowers.

‘Let's get out of here,’ said Harry. ‘This isn't right, we need to try another door.’

‘There are doors here, too,’ said Ron, pointing around the walls. Harry's heart sank; how big was this place?

‘In my dream I went through that dark room into the second one,’ he said. ‘I think we should go back and try from there.’

So they hurried back into the dark, circular room; the ghostly shapes of the brains were now swimming before Harry's eyes instead of the blue candle flames.

‘Wait!’ said Hermione sharply, as Luna made to close the door of the brain room behind them. ‘Flagrate!’

She drew with her wand in midair and a fiery ‘X’ appeared on the door. No sooner had the door clicked shut behind them than there was a great rumbling, and once again the wall began to revolve very fast, but now there was a great red-gold blur in amongst the faint blue and, when all became still again, the fiery cross still burned, showing the door they had already tried.

‘Good thinking,’ said Harry. ‘OK, let's try this one—’

Again, he strode directly at the door facing him and pushed it open, his wand still raised, the others at his heels.

This room was larger than the last, dimly lit and rectangular, and the centre of it was sunken, forming a great stone pit some twenty feet deep. They were standing on the topmost tier of what seemed to be stone benches running all around the room and descending in steep steps like an amphitheatre, or the courtroom in which Harry had been tried by the Wizengamot. Instead, of a chained chair, however, there was a raised stone dais in the centre of the pit, on which stood a stone archway that looked so ancient, cracked and crumbling that Harry was amazed the thing was still standing. Unsupported by any surrounding wall, the archway was hung with a tattered black curtain or veil which, despite the complete stillness of the cold surrounding air, was fluttering very slightly as though it had just been touched.

‘Who's there?’ said Harry, jumping down on to the bench below. There was no answering voice, but the veil continued to flutter and sway.

‘Careful!’ whispered Hermione.

Harry scrambled down the benches one by one until he reached the stone bottom of the sunken pit. His footsteps echoed loudly as he walked slowly towards the dais. The pointed archway looked much taller from where he now stood than it had when he'd been looking down on it from above. Still the veil swayed gently, as though somebody had just passed through it.

‘Sirius?’ Harry spoke again, but more quietly now that he was nearer.

He had the strangest feeling that there was someone standing right behind the veil on the other side of the archway. Gripping his wand very tightly, he edged around the dais, but there was nobody there; all that could be seen was the other side of the tattered black veil.

‘Let's go,’ called Hermione from halfway up the stone steps. ‘This isn't right, Harry, come on, let's go.’

She sounded scared, much more scared than she had in the room where the brains swam, yet Harry thought the archway had a kind of beauty about it, old though it was. The gently rippling veil intrigued him; he felt a very strong inclination to climb up on the dais and walk through it.

‘Harry, let's go, OK?’ Said Hermione more forcefully.

‘OK,’ he said, but did not move. He had just heard something. There were faint whispering, murmuring noises coming from the other side of the veil.

‘What are you saying?’ he said, very loudly, so that his words echoed all around the stone benches.

‘Nobody's talking, Harry!’ said Hermione, now moving over to him.

‘Someone's whispering behind there,’ he said, moving out of her reach and continuing to frown at the veil. ‘Is that you, Ron?’

‘I'm here, mate,’ said Ron, appearing around the side of the archway.

‘Can't anyone else hear it?’ Harry demanded, for the whispering and murmuring was becoming louder; without really meaning to put it there, he found his foot was on the dais.

‘I can hear them too,’ breathed Luna, joining them around the side of the archway and gazing at the swaying veil. ‘There are people in there!’

‘What do you mean, “in there”?’ demanded Hermione, jumping down from the bottom step and sounding much angrier than the occasion warranted, ‘there isn't any “in there", it's just an archway, there's no room for anybody to be there. Harry, stop it, come away—’

She grabbed his arm and pulled, but he resisted.

‘Harry, we are supposed to be here for Sirius!’ she said in a high-pitched, strained voice.

‘Sirius,’ Harry repeated, still gazing, mesmerised, at the continuously swaying veil. ‘Yeah ...’

Something finally slid back into place in his brain; Sirius, captured, bound and tortured, and he was staring at this archway ...

He took several paces back from the dais and wrenched his eyes from the veil.

‘Let's go,’ he said.

‘That's what I've been trying to—well, come on, then!’ said Hermione, and she led the way back around the dais. On the other side, Ginny and Neville were staring, apparently entranced, at the veil too. Without speaking, Hermione took hold of Ginny's arm,

Ron grabbed Neville's, and they marched them firmly back to the lowest stone bench and clambered all the way back up to the door.

‘What d'you reckon that arch was?’ Harry asked Hermione as they regained the dark circular room.

‘I don't know, but whatever it was, it was dangerous,’ she said firmly, again inscribing a fiery cross on the door.

Once more, the wall span and became still again. Harry approached another door at random and pushed. It did not move.

‘What's wrong?’ said Hermione.

‘It's ... locked ...’ said Harry, throwing his weight at the door, but it didn't budge.

‘This is it, then, isn't it?’ said Ron excitedly, joining Harry in the attempt to force the door open. ‘Bound to be!’

‘Get out of the way!’ said Hermione sharply. She pointed her wand at the place where a lock would have been on an ordinary door and said, ‘Alohomora!’

Nothing happened.

‘Sirius's knife!’ said Harry. He pulled it out from inside his robes and slid it into the crack between the door and the wall. The others all watched eagerly as he ran it from top to bottom, withdrew it and then flung his shoulder again at the door. It remained as firmly shut as ever. What was more, when Harry looked down at the knife, he saw the blade had melted.

‘Right, we're leaving that room,’ said Hermione decisively.

‘But what if that's the one?’ said Ron, staring at it with a mixture of apprehension and longing.

‘It can't be, Harry could get through all the doors in his dream,’ said Hermione, marking the door with another fiery cross as Harry replaced the now-useless handle of Sirius's knife in his pocket.

‘You know what could be in there?’ said Luna eagerly, as the wall started to spin yet again.

‘Something blibbering, no doubt,’ said Hermione under her breath and Neville gave a nervous little laugh.

The wall slid to a halt and Harry, with a feeling of increasing desperation, pushed the next door open.

‘This is it!’

He knew it at once by the beautiful, dancing, diamond-sparkling light. As Harry's eyes became accustomed to the brilliant glare, he saw clocks gleaming from every surface, large and small, grandfather and carriage, hanging in spaces between the bookcases or standing on desks ranging the length of the room, so that a busy, relentless ticking filled the place like thousands of minuscule, marching footsteps. The source of the dancing, diamond-bright light was a towering crystal bell jar that stood at the far end of the room.

‘This way!’

Harry's heart was pumping frantically now that he knew they were on the right track; he led the way down the narrow space between the lines of desks, heading, as he had done in his dream, for the source of the light, the crystal bell jar quite as tall as he was that stood on a desk and appeared to be full of a billowing, glittering wind.

‘Oh, took!’ said Ginny, as they drew nearer, pointing at the very heart of the bell jar.

Drifting along in the sparkling current inside was a tiny, jewel-bright egg. As it rose in the jar, it cracked open and a hummingbird emerged, which was carried to the very top of the jar, but as it fell on the draught its feathers became bedraggled and damp again, and by the time it had been borne back to the bottom of the jar it had been enclosed once more in its egg.

‘Keep going!’ said Harry sharply, because Ginny showed signs of wanting to stop and watch the egg's progress back into a bird.

‘You dawdled enough by that old arch!’ she said crossly, but followed him past the bell jar to the only door behind it.

‘This is it,’ Harry said again, and his heart was now pumping so hard and fast he felt it must interfere with his speech, ‘it's through here—’

He glanced around at them all; they had their wands out and looked suddenly serious and anxious. He looked back at the door and pushed. It swung open.

They were there, they had found the place: high as a church and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty glass orbs. They glimmered dully in the light issuing from more candle-brackets set at intervals along the shelves. Like those in the circular room behind them, their flames were burning blue. The room was very cold.

Harry edged forward and peered down one of the shadowy aisles between two rows of shelves. He could not hear anything or see the slightest sign of movement.

‘You said it was row ninety-seven,’ whispered Hermione.

‘Yeah,’ breathed Harry, looking up at the end of the closest row. Beneath the branch of blue-glowing candles protruding from it glimmered the silver figure fifty-three.

‘We need to go right, I think,’ whispered Hermione, squinting to the next row. ‘Yes ... that's fifty-four ...’

‘Keep your wands ready,’ Harry said softly.

They crept forward, glancing behind them as they went on down the long alleys of shelves, the further ends of which were in near-total darkness. Tiny, yellowing labels had been stuck beneath each glass orb on the shelves. Some of them had a weird, liquid glow; others were as dull and dark within as blown light bulbs.

They passed row eighty-four ... eighty-five ... Harry was listening hard for the slightest sound of movement, but Sirius might be gagged now, or else unconscious ... or, said an unbidden voice inside his head, he might already be dead ...

I'd have felt it, he told himself, his heart now hammering against his Adam's apple, I'd already know ...

‘Ninety-seven!’ whispered Hermione.

They stood grouped around the end of the row, gazing down the alley beside it. There was nobody there.

‘He's right down at the end,’ said Harry, whose mouth had become slightly dry. ‘You can't see properly from here.’

And he led them between the towering rows of glass balls, some of which glowed softly as they passed ...

‘He should be near here,’ whispered Harry, convinced that every step was going to bring the ragged form of Sirius into view on the darkened floor. ‘Anywhere here ... really close ...’

‘Harry?’ said Hermione tentatively, but he did not want to respond. His mouth was very dry.

‘Somewhere about ... here ...’ he said.

They had reached the end of the row and emerged into more dim candlelight, There was nobody there. All was echoing, dusty silence.

‘He might be ...’ Harry whispered hoarsely, peering down the next alley. ‘Or maybe ...’ He hurried to look down the one beyond that.

‘Harry?’ said Hermione again.

‘What?’ he snarled.

‘I ... I don't think Sirius is here.’

Nobody spoke. Harry did not want to look at any of them. He felt sick. He did not understand why Sirius was not here. He had to be here. This was where he, Harry, had seen him ...

He ran up the space at the end of the rows, staring down them. Empty aisle after empty aisle flickered past. He ran the other way, back past his staring companions. There was no sign of Sirius anywhere, nor any hint of a struggle.

‘Harry?’ Ron called.

‘What?’

He did not want to hear what Ron had to say; did not want to hear Ron tell him he had been stupid or suggest that they ought to go back to Hogwarts, but the heat was rising in his face and he felt as though he would like to skulk down here in the darkness for a long while before facing the brightness of the Atrium above and the others’ accusing stares ...

‘Have you seen this?’ said Ron.

‘What?’ said Harry, but eagerly this time—it had to be a sign that Sirius had been there, a clue. He strode back to where they were all standing, a little way down row ninety-seven, but found nothing except Ron staring at one of the dusty glass spheres on the shelf.

‘What?’ Harry repeated glumly.

‘It's—it's got your name on,’ said Ron.

Harry moved a little closer. Ron was pointing at one of the small glass spheres that glowed with a dull inner light, though it was very dusty and appeared not to have been touched for many years.

‘My name?’ said Harry blankly.

He stepped forwards. Not as tall as Ron, he had to crane his neck to read the yellowish label affixed to the shelf right beneath the dusty glass ball. In spidery writing was written a date of some sixteen years previously, and below that:

S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.

Dark Lord

and (?)Harry Potter

Harry stared at it.

‘What is it?’ Ron asked, sounding unnerved. ‘What's your name doing down here?’

He glanced along at the other labels on that stretch of shelf.

‘I'm not here,’ he said, sounding perplexed. ‘None of the rest of us are here.’

‘Harry, I don't think you should touch it,’ said Hermione sharply, as he stretched out his hand.

‘Why not?’ he said. ‘It's something to do with me, isn't it?’

‘Don't, Harry,’ said Neville suddenly. Harry looked at him. Neville's round face was shining slightly with sweat. He looked as though he could not take much more suspense.

‘It's got my name on,’ said Harry.

And feeling slightly reckless, he closed his fingers around the dusty ball's surface. He had expected it to feel cold, but it did not. On the contrary, it felt as though it had been lying in the sun for hours, as though the glow of light within was warming it. Expecting, even hoping, that something dramatic was going to happen, something exciting that might make their long and dangerous journey worth while after all, Harry lifted the glass ball down from its shelf and stared at it.

Nothing whatsoever happened. The others moved in closer around Harry, gazing at the orb as he brushed it free of the clogging dust.

And then, from right behind them, a drawling voice spoke.

‘Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me.’

哈利紧紧的抓住最近的一头Thestral的鬃毛, 一脚睬在一个附近的树桩上，笨拙的爬到它那柔软光滑的背上。它没有拒绝，但它扭过头，露出它的尖牙，还想接着舔哈利的袍子。 他在双翼后面找到个地方放他的膝盖，这让他觉得更安全，然后看看周围其他人的情况。纳威已经趴在了下一头Thestral的背上，正想把一条腿荡到那马的另一边。露那已经横坐在马上了，就象她往常一样整理着她的袍子。罗恩, 荷米恩和金妮, 却站在那儿一动不动，瞠目结舌。 “怎么了？”他说。

　　“我们该怎么做？”罗恩喃喃说着，“我们根本看不见那东西。”

　　“哦，那很容易”露那说着从她的Thestral 上滑了下来走向他们，“来这儿”。 她把他们一个一个推扯到了周围站着的其他Thestrals的背上。他们仨紧张兮兮的让她把他们的手缠进他们的坐骑的鬃毛里，她让他们抓紧了，然后才回到她自己的战马上。

　　“这真是疯了”，罗恩咕哝着，用一只手小心翼翼的摸索着他的马的脖子，“真刺激，要是我能看见它——”

　　“你还是看不见它们的好”，哈利低沉的说。“那么大家都准备好了吗？”

　　他们都点了点头，哈利看见五双膝盖都在他们的袍子下夹紧了。

　　'好的。'

　　他看了看身下Thestral的光滑的黑色的脑袋，喉头一动。

　　“那么，伦敦，魔法部，来访者接待处”，他不确定的说道，“恩，如果你知道在哪儿。”

　　好一会，哈利的Thestral纹丝不动；然后，两边的翅膀都猛地一动，伸展开，差点把他们掀下去；那马先慢慢地蹲伏下来，然后一冲向天，急速的危险让哈利不得不用他的四肢紧紧扒住它，以防从它那瘦骨嶙峋的臀上滑下来。他闭上了眼，把头埋在马鬃里，它们穿过了最高的树杈，翱翔在血红的黄昏里。

　　哈利从没想到他会飞的这么快：Thestral飞过城堡，它的宽阔的翅膀剧烈的拍打着，冷风刮着哈利的脸：在狂风中他使劲睁开眼寻找他的5个同伴，他们跟在他后面，每个人都尽量的低伏在自己的马背上，在急速的气流中保护着自己。

　　他们飞越Hogwarts，他们已经飞过了Hogsmeade；哈利能看见他们下面的山脉和溪谷。夜晚渐渐来临，当他们飞越多个小村落时，哈利看见一簇簇一点点的灯火，在蜿蜒的路上有一辆孤独的汽车翻过一座座小山回家。

　　“奇异啊！”哈利几乎听不见罗恩在哪儿发出的喊声，他可以想象飞得这么高这么快而没有任何看的见的东西托着你是种什么感觉。

　　黄昏也落幕了：明亮朦胧的紫色中点缀着少许银色的星星，不久就只有Muggle镇的灯火能给他们点线索来证实他们飞得有多高，已经有多远。哈利的胳膊紧紧抱住他的马的脖子，希望它能飞的再快点。自从他看见天狼星躺在神秘事物司的地上到现在，已经过去多少时间了？天狼星还能抵抗伏地魔多久？哈利只知道他的教父没向伏地魔屈服也还没有死，因为他确信任何一个结果会让伏地魔欣喜若狂或愤怒，而他能够通过自己的身体和伤疤的疼痛感受的到，就象上次威斯来先生被攻击时发生的一样。

　　他们继续在浓浓的黑暗中飞翔；哈利的脸冻僵了，他的腿也因一直紧紧夹着Thestrals而麻木了，但他一动也不敢动，怕滑下马，他的耳朵被一直轰轰的气流声震聋了，他的嘴也被夜晚的风冻结了，又冷又干。他没有任何感觉他们已经飞了多远，他只能相信他骑着的那头拍着翅膀勇往直前的兽，正穿过黑暗向目的地飞驰。

　　如果他们已经晚了呢？

　　他还活着，他还在战斗。我能感觉到。

　　如果伏地魔决定不把天狼星撕裂。

　　我会知道的。

　　哈利的肚子一阵晃动， Thestrals的头突然把头指向地面，结果他沿着它的脖子向前滑了几英寸。最后他们在下降。他觉得听到身后传来一声尖叫并且开始危险地摇晃, 却看不到有任何落体的迹象。 … 大概其他人都从另一个方向收到了一个震动, 就象他自己感觉到的一样。 现在明亮的橙色光线从各个方向变得更大更圆; 他们能够看到建筑物的顶端，象昆虫的眼睛一样发光的前灯的光束，苍白发黄的方格是窗户。看起来一下子静了下来，他们向人行道急飞下来; 哈利用尽力气抓住Thestral, 积极准备突然的冲击。 然而那马触到黑暗的地面时却象影子一样无声无息，哈利从它的背上滑下来，在大街上环顾四周，那还在溢着水的罐车仍然离损坏的电话亭有一段距离, 在淡橙色的耀街光中都失去了颜色。 罗恩落在了旁边的一个地方，接着便一下子从 Thestral 身上跌到地上。 '我受够了,' 他说, 挣扎着站起来。他想做出从Thestral上大跨步下来的样子，但因为看不见，撞在了它的臀部，几乎又跌倒在地。'再, 再也不想来了· 真是受不了-'荷米恩 和 金妮从他的两侧触地: 两人都比罗恩文雅地从坐骑上滑下来，尽管都有相似的脚踏实地的解脱感; 纳威跳下来，摇晃着; 露娜平静地下了马。 '接下来要到哪儿？？' 她用礼貌而关心的声音问哈利, 就象这是一个相当有趣的往返旅行。 '那里,' 他说· 他敏捷的、感激地拍了一下Thestral, 接着就带路到那个敲碎的电话亭，开了门。'快过来！' 他招呼着其他人, 而他们有些犹豫。 罗恩和金妮顺从地跟在后面; 荷米恩, 纳威和露娜挤在一起跟在他们后面; 哈利回瞄了一眼 Thestrals, 它正在搜寻腐烂食物的碎片, 接着跟着露娜把他自己挤进电话亭。 '哪位离听筒最近，请拨'62442！' 他说。

　　罗恩拨了, 他胳膊奇怪地弯曲着去拨号; 当发出嗡嗡声时，一个冰冷的发性声音从盒子里发出来。 '欢迎来到魔法部。请陈述你们的名字和事由。''哈利 波特, 罗恩 威斯利， 荷米恩 格朗格,' 哈利 说得很快， '金妮 威斯利, 纳威 朗波特, 露娜 拉古得。 我们来这里解救一个人，除非你们部门能先做这件事！'谢谢,' 那个冰冷的女人说。 '来宾们, 请拿好徽章把它别在你们的长袍的前面。'6只徽章从金属槽里滑出来，从那里回的硬币露了出来。 荷米恩把它们掘起来，经过金妮的头，无声地递给哈利; 他扫了一眼最高处的一个，哈利 波特, 拯救使命。 '魔法部的宾客们，你们需要接受一个搜查，把你们的魔杖带到安全台去登记, 它在中庭最深处。''太好了！' 哈利 大声叫着, 以致他的伤疤又来了一阵痛· '现在我们可以走了么？'电话亭的地板抖动着，地面上升到玻璃窗的上面; 吃腐肉的Thestrals 从视线中消失; 黑暗淹没了他们的头部，随着一声沉闷 的吱嘎声，他们沉入到魔法神职界的深处。

　　裂缝里透出一束金色的光打在他们的脚上，逐渐变宽, 抬高了他们的身体。哈利弯下膝盖，握紧他的魔杖，以便在这样狭促的条件下。。。。通过窥视玻璃去看中庭里是否有人在等他们, 但那看起来完全是空的。光线逐渐变暗;嵌在墙壁上的壁炉架下面没有火在烧, 但当升降梯平稳地停下时，他看见各种金色的符号还在暗蓝色的天花板上无规律的转动着。 “魔法部祝愿你们有一个愉快的夜晚,' 女人的声音说道。 电话亭的门砰地打开; 哈利倾倒出去，紧接是纳威和露娜· 中庭里唯一发出声音的是从金山上持续冲下来的水流，它是来自女巫和男巫的权杖，半人马的箭尖，小妖精的帽尖和家养小精灵的耳朵，持续地涌进周边的池塘。

　　'快过来,'哈利平静地说，六个人飞快地跑到大厅里, 哈利领头, 经过喷泉奔向桌子，那个称过哈利魔杖的守护男巫曾坐在那儿，现在桌子旁却没人。 哈利确信那里会应该有一个安全人员，确信无人在那是一个恶兆, 当他们经过金色的门去升降梯时，这种预感在增强· 他按一下最近的“下”按钮，一个升降梯卡搭卡搭地几乎立即出现在眼前, 金色的铁栅栏伴着一声巨大的回响分开了，他们一下子冲进去。哈利戳了一下9号按钮; 铁栅栏砰地关上了，升降梯开始下降， 叮叮咣咣直响。哈利在白天随威斯里先生来进还没注意到升降梯有这么吵; 他相信这么嘈杂的声音能够吵醒大楼里的随便哪个安全人员, 然而当升降梯停下来时，冰冷的女人声音说“神秘事物司”。铁栅栏滑动着开了。他们走出来进入走廊，四周一片静寂，只有火把在升降梯带出的气流中闪动。 哈利转向黑色的平板门· 经过日日夜夜的梦想，他终于来到了这里。 '我们走,' 他耳语道, 带路走向走廊, 露娜立即跟在他后面, 微张着嘴看着周围。 'OK, 听着' 哈利说，并在离门有6英尺的地方停下。“也许，也许一群人在这里做看守, 并且” '我们怎么可能知道什么事会发生？'金妮问, 她眉毛一扬· '也许还远着呢·''我们跟着你, 哈利,' 纳威说·

　　'让我们继续走,'罗恩坚定地说·

　　哈利仍然不希望把他们都带进来,但看起来没有别的选择· 他转身面向门并向前走去。正如他梦里一样，门旋转开，他越过门槛，其他人跟在后面。 他们站在一个很大的圆形的房子· 这里的一切东西都是黑的,包括门和天花板; 相同的,没有标记的,没有手柄的门,被间隔着安装在墙的四周·, 点缀着一些发着蓝光的蜡烛; 它们冷冷的微弱的光反射在闪光的大理石地面上,看上去好象脚下就是黑色的水·。

　　'关一下门,' 哈利嘀咕着。

　　纳威一把门关上，他又后悔让他这么做了。从长走廊的火把上映过来的微弱的光线消失了，这个地方变的那么暗，他们只能看见墙上的几束颤抖的兰色火焰和地面上它们鬼魅般的倒影。

　　在梦中，哈利总是直穿过这个房间，通过入口对面的门继续向前走。但现在这儿有十多个门。正当他凝视着他面前的那些门，想找出正确的那个时，出现一阵辘辘声，那些蜡烛开始移动到门边。环形的墙壁开始旋转起来荷米恩抓住哈利的胳膊，仿佛害怕地面也会移动，但地没动。几秒钟，他们周围的兰色火焰就随着墙壁的快速转动形成了模糊的氖光线条；随后，墙壁又忽然停止转动，辘辘声也停了下来，一切又恢复了原来静止的状态。

　　哈利的眼睛都花了，只能看见那些兰色的条纹。

　　“那是怎么了？”罗恩轻声说。

　　“我认为那是不想让我们知道该进哪个门”金妮平静的说。

　　哈利立刻认识到她是对的：要想找到那个该走出去的门比在黑玉的地面上找到只蚂蚁还难，这十多个门中的任何一个都有可能。

　　“我们该怎么出去呢？’纳威不安的说。

　　“哦，那个现在并不重要”，哈利坚定的说，眨着眼，想抹去视觉中那些兰色的线条，比以往更紧的握住了他的魔杖，“我们要直到救出天狼星后才会离开。”

　　“但别再叫他的名字了！”荷米恩急切的说，但哈利不需要再听这个建议了，他的本能让他尽量保持安静。

　　“那么，我们该去哪儿，哈利？”罗恩问道。

　　“我也不知道——”哈利开始说话了。他咽了下口水，“在梦里，我从升降梯出来，穿过走廊尽头的门，到了一个黑暗的房间——就是现在这个——然后我穿过了另一个门进入了有几点闪烁光的房间。我们恐怕得试一些门，”他急忙说，“我会知道该走哪条路的，如果我看见它。来吧。”

　　他一直走向现正面对他的那个门，其他人紧跟在他后面，他把左手放在冰凉的门上，举起他的魔杖准备好，然后推门。

　　门轻轻地转开了。

　　习惯了刚才的黑暗，那从天花板上的金色链条吊下的灯让他们觉得这个长矩形房间分外明亮，但这儿没有象哈利梦中所见的那些闪烁的微光。这地方几乎是空的，除了几张桌子和房间正中央的一个装着深绿色液体的巨大的玻璃桶，大的足够他们都在里面游泳，一些珍珠白色的物体在里面懒洋洋地漂流。

　　“那些是什么？”罗恩小声说。

　　“不知道，”哈利说。

　　“他们是鱼吗？”金妮吸了口气。

　　“白兰地蛆（Aquavirius Maggots）！”露那兴奋地说。“我父亲说神秘事物司在养——”

　　“不对，”荷米恩说。她的声音很古怪。她走上前从玻璃桶边沿看着，“他们是脑髓”。

　　“脑髓？”

　　“是的。我不知道他们用这些做什么？”

　　哈利也站到她那儿。绝对的，毫无疑问，他在这么近，看的很清楚。发出可怕的微光，他们在深绿色的液体里漂着，忽隐忽现，就象粘糊糊的花椰菜。

　　“我们回去吧，”哈利说，“房间不是的。我们得试试其他的。”

　　“这儿也有很多门，”罗恩说，指着周围的墙。哈利心一沉，这个地方到底有多大？'“在我梦里，我通过了那个黑暗的房间就到了第二个房间，”他说，“我想我们该回去试那儿的门。”

　　于是他们急忙回到了那个黑暗的圆形房间；哈利眼前还浮现着那些奇形怪状的脑髓，直到他又看见了那些蜡烛的兰色火焰。

　　“等等！”荷米恩忽然叫道，跟在最后的露那正想关上那个有脑子的房间的门，“标记即现！”

　　她的魔杖指在半空中，一个燃烧的“X”出现在那扇门上。就在那扇门在他们身后关上的瞬间，辘辘声又响起，墙又开始急速旋转，但现在在微弱的蓝光中又夹了一点火红的金色，当一切回复平静，那个血红的交叉还在燃烧，标出了他们已经试过了的那个门。

　　“好点子，”哈利说。“好，让我们来试这扇——”

　　他又走向了他面前的那扇门，推开门，仍然举着魔杖，其他人紧跟着他。

　　这个房间比刚才那个更大，灯光昏暗，长方形，房子中间陷了下去，形成了一个大约20英尺深的坑。石头长椅沿着房间的形状一排排陡峭地下沉，象一个阶梯教室，或是那个哈利被福吉审问过的审讯室，而他们站在最上层。没有带锁链的椅子，在这个沉坑的中央，生起了一个石头讲台，上面还立着一个看起来很古老的破碎的石拱门，摇摇欲坠。周围没有任何墙的支撑，那拱门还挂着一个破破烂烂的门帘子，在寒冷和完全静止的空气中，却轻微地飘动着，就象刚被人动过。

　　“谁在那儿？”哈利说，跳到了下面的长椅上。没有回音，但那幕帘还在继续飘摇。

　　“小心点！”荷米恩低声说。

　　哈利爬下一层层椅子直到坑的最底部。当他慢慢向讲台走去时，他的脚步声明亮地回响着。那突出的拱门从他现在站的地方看起来比他刚才从上面看下来要高的多。门帘还在轻轻地摆动，就好象有人刚从那儿进去。

　　“天狼星？”哈利又喊了一声，但他越接近就更安静了。

　　他有一种强烈的感觉，有人正站在帘子后面拱门的另一边。他紧紧握住魔杖，他慢慢绕到讲台的另一边，但那儿也没人；只能看见那个破黑帘子的另一面。

　　“我们走吧，”荷米恩在石阶上去一半的地方喊着。“不是这儿，哈利，上来吧。我们还是走吧。”

　　她的声音听起来很恐惧，甚于刚才在那个有脑髓游泳的房间，但哈利觉得那个拱门是什么美好的东西，虽然很古老了。那微微飘动的帘子吸引着他；他有种强烈的欲望，想爬上讲台，穿过帘子走过去。

　　“哈利，我们走吧，行吗？”荷米恩更激动了。

　　“好，”他说，但没动。他好象听到了什么。有微弱的喃喃低语从帘子那边传过来。

　　“你在说什么？”他非常大声地说，以致于他的声音在石头台阶四周回荡。

　　“没人在说话，哈利！”荷米恩说着向他走过去。

　　“那后面有人在悄悄说话，”他说，转过身继续对那帘子皱起眉，“是你吗，罗恩？”

　　“我在这儿，伙计，”罗恩说，他出现在拱门旁边。

　　“你们其他人没听到吗？”哈利问，喃喃低语声更大了，不知不觉，他发现他的一只脚已经踩上了讲台。

　　“我也听到了，”露那喘了口气，和他们一起站在拱门边的周围，盯着摆动的帘子。“那里面有人！”

　　“‘那里面’是什么意思？”，荷米恩问道，从最后的台阶上跳了下来，非常生气，“‘那里面’什么也没有，它只是一道拱门，没地方让任何人呆着，哈利，别管它了，离开吧——”

　　她抓住他的胳膊拉他走，但他抗拒了。

　　“哈利，我们来这儿是要救天狼星！”她高声尖叫着。

　　“天狼星，”哈利重复着，仍然盯着那不短飘摇的帘子，被催眠似的。“对呀。”

　　什么东西又滑回了他的脑海；天狼星，被抓住了，被绑了起来，被拷打，他正看着那拱门。

　　他从讲台后退了好几步，用力把眼神扭开那帘子。

　　“我们走吧，”他说。

　　“这正是我一直试图做的——好了，那么我们走吧！”荷米恩说，她从讲台边领头望回走。在另一面，金妮和纳威也在面露喜色地看着那帘子。荷米恩没说话，抓住了金妮的胳膊，而罗恩也抓住了纳威的，他们坚定地走回石头台阶，爬回到了门边。

　　“你认为那拱门是什么？”当他们回到黑暗的环形房间时，哈利问荷米恩。

　　“我不知道，但无论它是什么都很危险，”她坚决地说，又在门上划了个燃烧的交叉。

　　又一次，墙旋转又静止了下来。哈利随便走近了另一扇门，一推。门没动。

　　“怎么回事？”荷米恩说。

　　“被锁上了。”哈利说着，把他的体重都压在了门上，但门仍然不动。

　　“那么，是这个门，是吗？”罗恩兴奋地说，加入哈利，试图顶开门。“接着干！”

　　“让开道！”荷米恩尖声说。她把魔杖指向一般的门装锁的位置，念道， “阿拉霍洞开！” 什么也没发生。

　　“天狼星的刀！” 哈利说。他把刀从长袍里抽出，插进门和墙之间的裂缝。其他人都急切地注视着他把刀从上划到下，抽出刀，又用肩膀猛撞门。 门还和原来一样紧闭着。更糟糕的是，哈利低头看见那把刀的刀刃都卷了。

　　“好了，我们离开这房间吧，”荷米恩决断地说。

　　“但如果就是这个呢？”罗恩说，渴望而忧虑的盯着那扇门。

　　“不会是这个，哈利在梦里能直接穿过所有的门，”荷米恩说，又在门上做了个燃烧的交叉标记，哈利把天狼星的那把现在已没用了的刀的刀把收在了他的口袋里。

　　“你知道那里面会是什么吗？”露那急切地说，墙壁又开始旋转。

　　“一些气泡，毫无疑问，”荷米恩说完，纳威还有点紧张地笑了一下。

　　墙停止了旋转，伴着一种递增的绝望感，哈利推开了另一扇门。

　　就是这个！

　　他立刻认出了那美丽的跳动着的钻石般闪烁的光芒。 当哈利的已经开始适应这闪耀的光芒时，他看见各种各样闪光的钟，巨大的，小的，古老的，机械的，有的挂在书架之间，有的在房间里散落的桌子上，于是一阵忙碌的无情的滴答声填满了整个空间，就象成千上万的行进中的细碎的脚步声。那跳动的钻石般闪耀的光是源自房间远远尽头的一个高大的水晶钟罐。 这边！

　　哈利心脏疯狂的跳着，他知道他们找到了正确的路；他领着路，带头穿过一排排的桌子和标题间的窄空，就象在梦里那样，走向那口有他站在桌子上那么高的大水晶钟罐，看上去里面盛满了翻滚的闪光的酒。

　　“哦，看哪！”当他们走近了，金妮指着大钟罐的中心说。

　　在闪烁的液体中漂流的是一个小小的宝石一样明亮的蛋。它从钟罐里升起，升到钟罐的最顶上时，裂开，出来了一只蜂鸟，但它一旦碰到了水流，它的翅膀湿透了又沉下去，即刻，蛋又包住了它，沉到了钟罐的最底部。

　　金妮做了个手势让大家停下来看那个蛋怎么再变成鸟，哈利急忙喊“接着走！”

　　“你在破拱门那儿已经玩够了！”她故意说，但还是跟着他走过钟罐到了后面唯一的一扇门前。

　　“就是这扇，”哈利又说了一次，他的心跳的那么快和强烈，让他感到自己的声音都颤抖了，“就是从这里过去——”

　　他环视他们，他们都拔出了魔杖，忽然变的严肃和紧张。他看着后面的门，去推。门滑开了。

　　他们到了，他们找到了那个地方：象教堂那么高，空荡荡的，只有一些高耸的架子，上面放满了落着灰尘的小玻璃球。他们在沿着架子间隔支出的很多只蜡烛的光芒中隐隐闪烁，蜡烛的火焰燃烧呈兰色，就象他们后面那个圆形房间里的一样。

　　哈利低头凝视着两排架子之间的过道，慢慢往前走。他没听见任何声音，没看见什么最轻微的运动的迹象。

　　“你说过它在97排，”荷米恩悄悄说。

　　“是的，”哈利吸了口气，抬头看最近一排的末尾。在兰色火焰的蜡烛支架下面，闪烁着银色的数字53。

　　“我认为，我们得向右走，”荷米恩低语，瞥着下一排，“是的，那是54。”

　　“准备好用你的魔杖，”哈利柔声说。

　　他们蹑手蹑脚向前走，不时瞥瞥身后，沿着架子之间长长的过道，而远处几乎是完全黑暗的。泛黄的小标签被贴在每个玻璃球下的架子上。一些发出神秘的流动的光，另一些里面黑暗且凝滞，象吹制出的发光的洋葱头。

　　他们走过了84排，85排。哈利使劲听着哪怕最细微的动作的声音，但天狼星的嘴也许被塞住了，或是不省人世，或是，一个不速之音在他脑子里说，他也许已经死了。

　　我会感觉到的，他对自己说，他的心锤打着他的‘亚当的苹果’，我应该已经知道的。

　　“97！”荷米恩轻轻说。

　　他们聚在那一排的末尾，盯着旁边的走道。那儿一个人也没有。

　　“他就躺在那后面，” 哈利说，他的口发干，“你们从这里看不见的。” 他带着他们从玻璃球的高架子之间穿过，当他们经过时，一些玻璃球发出柔和的光。

　　“他应该就在这附近，”哈利低语，确信再多一步就能在黑暗的地面上看见天狼星衣衫褴褛的样子，“就在这里的什么地方，真的很靠近了。”

　　“哈利？”荷米恩试探地说，但他不想回答。他的嘴巴非常干。

　　“在这儿，附近的什么地方，”他说。

　　他们已走到了这一排的尽头，烛光更暗淡了。没有人。只有回声和满是灰尘的寂静。

　　“他应该在，”哈利嘶哑的低语，凝视着下条走道。“或者也许，”他望着远处的另一条走道。

　　“哈利？”荷米恩又叫他。

　　“什么？” 他厉声说。

　　“我想，我想天狼星不在这儿。”

　　没有人说话。哈利不想看他们中任何一个。他觉得恶心。他不懂为什么天狼星会不在这儿。这儿就是他，哈利，看见他的地方。

　　他一直跑到一排排架子的尽头，盯着看下面。一道又一道空的过道闪过。他又从另一条路跑回来，还盯着下面看。没有任何天狼星在的迹象，也没有任何搏斗的痕迹。

　　“哈利？”罗恩喊道。

　　“什么？”

　　他不想听到罗恩会说的那些话；不想听罗恩告诉他他是多么的傻或建议他们应该回Hogwarts，但他的脸发热了，他感觉他好象情愿在这黑暗中躲藏好一会子，再去面对上面中庭的亮光和其他人责难的眼神。

　　“你看见这个了吗？”罗恩说。

　　“什么？”哈利说，这次语气很急切，——一定是有什么迹象表明天狼星曾到过那儿，一个线索。他大步走到他们站的地方，97排过去一点，但什么也没有，只是罗恩正盯着架子上的一个积满灰尘的玻璃球。

　　“是什么？”哈利郁闷地回答。

　　“那——那上面有你的名字，”罗恩说。

　　哈利走近了一点。罗恩指着一个小玻璃球，很脏但从里面发出黯淡的光，估计已有很多年没有人碰过了。

　　“有我的名字？”哈利茫然道。

　　他一直走向前。他没罗恩个子高，得伸长脖子才能读到那个脏玻璃球正下面的架子上贴的泛黄的标签。一个像蜘蛛腿一样细长的字体写着一个16年前的日期，下面写着：

　　S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.

　　黑君主和哈利·波特

　　哈利凝视着。

　　“这是什么？”罗恩问道，声音失常，“把你的名字写在这儿干吗？”

　　他沿着搁板看其他的标签。

　　“我不在上面，”他疑惑地说，“我们其他人的名字都不在这上面。”

　　“哈利，我认为你不能碰它，”荷米恩看见他伸出手，急忙说。

　　“为什么不行？”他说，“这东西和我有关，不是吗？”

　　“哈利，别，”纳威突然说。哈利看着他。纳威的圆脸上闪着点点汗珠。他看上去担心的不得了。

　　“上面有我的名字，”哈利说。

　　有一点鲁莽，他把手指罩在了那个脏球的表面上。那不象他原以为的那么冰冷。相反，摸起来就好象被放在阳光下晒了很久，就好象被里面发出的光照暖了。哈利期待着，甚至希望着，一些戏剧性的事情，一些能让他们这次漫长而危险的旅行变得值得的，激动人心的事情会发生，于是他从架子上拿起了那个球，凝视着。

　　无论什么还是没有发生。其他几个走近哈利身边，盯着那个球，看他拂去球上裹着的灰尘。

　　就在那时，就在他们后面，一个慢吞吞的声音说，“非常好，波特。现在，好好的，慢慢地转身，把它给我。”