Harry1 woke early next morning, wrapped in a sleeping bag on the drawing room floor. A chink of sky was visible between the heavy curtains. It was the cool, clear blue of watered ink, somewhere between night and dawn, and everything was quiet except for Ron and Hermione’s slow, deep breathing. Harry glanced over at the dark shapes they made on the floor beside him. Ron had had a fit of gallantry and insisted that Hermione sleep on the cushions from the sofa, so that her silhouette2 was raised above his. Her arm curved to the floor, her fingers inches from Ron’s. Harry wondered whether they had fallen asleep holding hands. The idea made him feel strangely lonely.
He looked up at the shadowy ceiling, the cobwebbed chandelier. Less than twenty-four house ago, he had been standing3 in the sunlight at the entrance to the marquee, waiting to show in wedding guests. It seemed a lifetime away. What was going to happen now? He lay on the floor and he thought of the Horcruxes, of the daunting4 complex mission Dumbledore had left him… Dumbledore…
The grief that had possessed5 him since Dumbledore’s death felt different now. The accusations6 he had heard from Muriel at the wedding seemed to have nested in his brain like diseased things, infecting his memories of the wizard he had idolized. Could Dumbledore have let such things happen? Had he been like Dudley, content to watch neglect and abuse as long as it did not affect him? Could he have turned his back on a sister who was being imprisoned7 and hidden?
Harry thought of Godric’s Hollow, of graves Dumbledore had never mentioned there; he thought of mysterious objects left without explanation in Dumbledore’s will, and resentment8 swelled9 in the darkness. Why hadn’t Dumbledore told him? Why hadn’t he explained? Had Dumbledore actually cared about Harry at all? Or had Harry been nothing more than a tool to be polished and honed, but not trusted, never confided10 in?
Harry could not stand lying there with nothing but bitter thoughts for company. Desperate for something to do, for distraction11, he slipped out of his sleeping bad, picked up his wand, and crept out of the room. On the landing he whispered, “Lumos,” and started to climb the stairs by wandlight.
On the second landing was the bedroom in which he and Ron had slept last time they had been here; he glanced into it. The wardrobe doors stood open and the bedclothes had been ripped back. Harry remembered the overturned troll leg downstairs. Somebody had searched the house since the Order had left. Snape? Or perhaps Mundungus, who had pilfered12 plenty from this house both before and after Sirius died? Harry’s gaze wandered to the portrait that sometimes contained Phineas Nigellus Black, Sirius’s great-great grandfather, but it was empty, showing nothing but a stretch of muddy backdrop. Phineas Nigellus was evidently spending the night in the headmaster’s study at Hogwarts.
Harry continued up the stairs until he reached the topmost landing where there were only two doors. The one facing him bore a nameplate reading Sirius. Harry had never entered his godfather’s bedroom before. He pushed open the door, holding his wand high to cast light as widely as possible. The room was spacious13 and must once have been handsome. There was a large bed with a carved wooden headboard, a tall window obscured by long velvet14 curtains and a chandelier thickly coated in dust with candle scrubs still resting in its sockets15, solid wax banging in frostlike drips. A fine film of dust covered the pictures on the walls and the bed’s headboard; a spiders web stretched between the chandelier and the top of the large wooden wardrobe, and as Harry moved deeper into the room, he head a scurrying16 of disturbed mice.
The teenage Sirius had plastered the walls with so many posters and pictures that little of the wall’s silvery-gray silk was visible. Harry could only assume that Sirius’s parents had been unable to remove the Permanent Sticking Charm that kept them on the wall because he was sure they would not have appreciated their eldest17 son’s taste in decoration. Sirius seemed to have long gone out of his way to annoy his parents. There were several large Gryffindor banners, faded scarlet18 and gold just to underline his difference from all the rest of the Slytherin family. There were many pictures of Muggle motorcycles, and also (Harry had to admire Sirius’s nerve) several posters of bikini-clad Muggle girls. Harry could tell that they were Muggles because they remained quite stationary19 within their pictures, faded smiles and glazed20 eyes frozen on the paper. This was in contrast the only Wizarding photograph on the walls which was a picture of four Hogwarts students standing arm in arm, laughing at the camera.
With a leap of pleasure, Harry recognized his father, his untidy black hair stuck up at the back like Harry’s, and he too wore glasses. Beside him was Sirius, carelessly handsome, his slightly arrogant21 face so much younger and happier than Harry had ever seen it alive. To Sirius’s right stood Pettigrew, more than a head shorter, plump and watery-eyed, flushed with pleasure at his inclusion in this coolest of gangs, with the much-admired rebels that James and Sirius had been. On James’s left was Lupin, even then a little shabby-looking, but he had the same air of delighted surprise at finding himself liked and included or was it simply because Harry knew how it had been, that he saw these things in the picture? He tried to take it from the wall; it was his now, after all, Sirius had left him everything, but it would not budge22. Sirius had taken no chances in preventing his parents from redecorating his room.
Harry looked around at the floor. The sky outside was growing brightest. A shaft23 of light revealed bits of paper, books, and small objects scattered24 over the carpet. Evidently Sirius’s bedroom had been reached too, although its contents seemed to have been judged mostly, if not entirely25, worthless. A few of the books had been shaken roughly enough to part company with the covers and sundry26 pages littered the floor.
Harry bent27 down, picked up a few of the pieces of paper, and examined them. He recognized one as a part of an old edition of A History of Magic, by Bathilda Bagshot, and another as belonging to a motorcycle maintenance manual. The third was handwritten and crumpled28. He smoothed it out.
Dear Padfoot,
Thank you, thank you, for Harry’s birthday present! It was his favorite by far. One year old and already zooming29 along on a toy broomstick, he looked so pleased with himself. I’m enclosing a picture so you can see. You know it only rises about two feet off the ground but he nearly killed the cat and he smashed a horrible vase Petunia30 sent me for Christmas (no complaints there). Of course James thought it was so funny, says he’s going to be a great Quidditch player but we’ve had to pack away all the ornaments31 and make sure we don’t take our eyes off him when he gets going.
We had a very quiet birthday tea, just us and old Bathilda who has always been sweet to us and who dotes on Harry. We were so sorry you couldn’t come, but the Order’s got to come first, and Harry’s not old enough to know it’s his birthday anyway! James is getting a bit frustrated32 shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell – also Dumbledore’s still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much. Wormy was here last weekend. I thought he seemed down, but that was probably the next about the McKinnons; I cried all evening when I heard.
Bathilda drops in most days, she’s a fascinating old thing with the most amazing stories about Dumbledore. I’m not sure he’d be pleased if he knew! I don’t know how much to believe, actually because it seems incredible that Dumbledore
Harry’s extremities33 seemed to have gone numb34. He stood quite still, holding the miraculous35 paper in his nerveless fingers while inside him a kind of quiet eruptions36 sent joy and grief thundering its equal measure through his veins37. Lurching to the bed, he sat down.
He read the letter again, but could not take in any more meaning than he had done the first time, and was reduced to staring at the handwriting itself. She had made her “g”s the same way he did. He searched through the letter for every one of them, and each felt like a friendly little wave glimpsed from behind a veil. The letter was an incredible treasure, proof that Lily Potter had lived, really lived, that her warm hand had once moved across this parchment, tracing ink into these letters, these words, words about him, Harry, her son.
Impatiently brushing away the wetness in his eyes, he reread the letter, this time concentrating on the meaning. It was like listening to a half-remembered voice.
They had a cat… perhaps it had perished, like his parents at Godric’s Hollow… or else fled when there was nobody left to feed it… Sirius had bought him his first broomstick… His parents had known Bathilda Bagshot; had Dumbledore introduced them? Dumbledore’s still got his Invisibility Cloak… there was something funny there…
Harry paused, pondering his mother’s words. Why had Dumbledore taken James’s Invisibility Cloak? Harry distinctly remembered his headmaster telling him years before, “I don’t need a cloak to become invisible” Perhaps some less gifted Order member had needed its assistance, and Dumbledore had acted as a carrier? Harry passed on…
Wormy was here… Pettigrew, the traitor38, had seemed “down” had he? Was he aware that he was seeing James and Lily alive for the last time?
And finally Bathilda again, who told incredible stories about Dumbledore. It seems incredible that Dumbledore –
That Dumbledore what? But there were any number of things that would seem incredible about Dumbledore; that he had once received bottom marks in a Transfiguration test, for instance or had taken up goat charming like Aberforth…
Harry got to his feet and scanned the floor: Perhaps the rest of the letter was here somewhere. He seized papers, treating them in his eagerness, with as little consideration as the original searcher, he pulled open drawers, shook out books, stood on a chair to run his hand over the top of the wardrobe, and crawled under the bed and armchair.
At last, lying facedown on the floor, he spotted39 what looked like a torn piece of paper under the chest of drawers. When he pulled it out, it proved to be most of the photograph that Lily had described in her letter. A black-haired baby was zooming in and out of the picture on a tiny broom, roaring with laughter, and a pair of legs that must have belonged to James was chasing after him. Harry tucked the photograph into his pocket with Lily’s letter and continued to look for the second sheet.
After another quarter of an hour, however he was forced to conclude that the rest of his mother’s letter was gone. Had it simply been lost in the sixteen years that had elapsed since it had been written, or had it been taken by whoever had searched the room? Harry read the first sheet again, this time looking for clues as to what might have made the second sheet valuable. His toy broomstick could hardly be considered interesting to the Death Eaters… The only potentially useful thing he could see her was possible information on Dumbledore. It seems incredible that Dumbledore – what?
“Harry? Harry? Harry!”
“I’m here!” he called, “What’s happened?”
There was a clatter40 of footsteps outside the door, and Hermione burst inside.
“We woke up and didn’t know where you were!” she said breathlessly. She turned and shouted over her shoulder, “Ron! I’ve found him”
Ron’s annoyed voice echoed distantly from several floors below.
“Good! Tell him from me he’s a git!”
“Harry don’t just disappear, please, we were terrified! Why did you come up here anyway?” She gazed around the ransacked41 room. “What have you been doing?”
“Look what I’ve just found”
He held out his mother’s letter. Hermione took it out and read it while Harry watched her. When she reached the end of the page she looked up at him.
“Oh Harry…”
“And there’s this too”
He handed her the torn photograph, and Hermione smiled at the baby zooming in and out of sight on the toy broom.
“I’ve been looking for the rest of the letter,” Harry said, “but it’s not here.”
Hermione glanced around.
“Did you make all this mess, or was some of it done when you got here?”
“Someone had searched before me,” said Harry.
“I thought so. Every room I looked into on the way up had been disturbed. What were they after, do you think?”
“Information on the Order, if it was Snape.”
“But you’d think he’d already have all he needed. I mean was in the Order, wasn’t he?”
“Well then,” said Harry, keen to discuss his theory, “what about information on Dumbledore? The second page of the letter, for instance. You know this Bathilda my mum mentions, you know who she is?”
“Who?”
“Bathilda Bagshot, the author of – ”
“A History of Magic,” said Hermione, looking interested. “So your parents knew her? She was an incredible magic historian.”
“And she’s still alive,” said Harry, “and she lives in Godric’s Hollow. Ron’s Auntie Muriel was talking about her at the wedding. She knew Dumbledore’s family too. Be pretty interesting to talk to, wouldn’t she?” There was a little too much understanding in the smile Hermione gave him for Harry’s liking42. He took back the letter and the photograph and tucked them inside the pouch43 around his neck, so as not to have to look at her and give himself away. “I understand why you’d love to talk to her about your mum and dad, and Dumbledore too,” said Hermione. “But that wouldn’t really help us in our search for the Horcruxes, would it?” Harry did not answer, and she rushed on, “Harry, I know you really want to go to Godric’s Hollow, but I’m scared. I’m scared at how easily those Death Eaters found us yesterday. It just makes me feel more than ever that we ought to avoid the place where your parents are buried, I’m sure they’d be expecting you to visit it.”
“It’s not just that,” Harry said, still avoiding looking at her, “Muriel said stuff about Dumbledore at the wedding. I want to know the truth…”
He told Hermione everything that Muriel had told him. When he had finished, Hermione said, “Of course, I can see why that’s upset you, Harry – ”
“I’m not upset,” he lied, “I’d just like to know whether or not it’s true or – ”
“Harry do you really think you’ll get the truth from a malicious44 old woman like Muriel, or from Rita Skeeter? How can you believe them? You knew Dumbledore!”
“I thought I did,” he muttered.
“But you know how much truth there was in everything Rita wrote about you! Doge is right, how can you let these people tarnish45 your memories of Dumbledore?”
He looked away, trying not to betray the resentment he felt. There it was again: Choose what to believe. He wanted the truth. Why was everybody so determined46 that he should not get it?
“Shall we go down to the kitchen?” Hermione suggested after a little pause. “Find something for breakfast?”
Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black
Excitement trickled47 through Harry, but he was not immediately sure why. He read the sign again. Hermione was already a flight of stairs below him.
“Hermione,” he said, and he was surprised that his voice was so calm. “Come back up here.”
“What’s the matter?”
“R.A.B. I think I’ve found him.”
There was a gasp48, and then Hermione ran back up the stairs.
“In your mum’s letter? But I didn’t see – ”
Harry shook his head, pointing at Regulus’s sign. She read it, then clutched Harry’s arm so tightly that he winced49.
“Sirius’s brother?” she whispered.
“He was a Death Eater,” said Harry. “Sirius told me about him, he joined up when he was really young and then got cold feet and tried to leave – so they killed him.”
“That fits!” gasped50 Hermione. “If he was a Death Eater he had access to Voldemort, and if he became disenchanted, then he would have wanted to bring Voldemort down!”
She released Harry, leaned over the banister, and screamed, “Ron! RON! Get up here, quick!”
Ron appeared, panting, a minute later, his wand ready in his hand.
“What’s up? If it’s massive spiders again I want breakfast before I – ”
He frowned at the sign on Regulus’s door, in which Hermione was silently pointing.
“What? That was Sirius’s brother, wasn’t it? Regulus Arcturus … Regulus … R.A.B.! The locket – you don’t reckon –?”
“Let’s find out,” said Harry. He pushed the door: It was locked. Hermione pointed51 her wand at the handle and said, “Alohamora.” There was a click, and the door swung open.
They moved over the threshold together, gazing around. Regulus’s bedroom was slightly smaller than Sirius’s, though it had the same sense of former grandeur52. Whereas Sirius had sought to advertise his diffidence from the rest of the family, Regulus had striven to emphasize the opposite. The Slytherin colors of emerald and silver were everywhere, draping the bed, the walls, and the windows. The Black family crest53 was painstakingly54 painted over the bed, along with its motto, TOUJOURS PUR. Beneath this was a collection of yellow newspaper cuttings, all stuck together to make a ragged55 collage56. Hermione crossed the room to examine them.
“They’re all about Voldemort,” she said. “Regulus seems to have been a fan for a few years before he joined the Death Eaters …”
A little puff57 of dust rose from the bedcovers as she sat down to read the clippings. Harry, meanwhile, had noticed another photograph: a Hogwarts Quidditch team was smiling and waving out of the frame. He moved closer and saw the snakes emblazoned on their chests: Slytherins. Regulus was instantly recognizable as the boy sitting in the middle of the front row: He had the same dark hair and slightly haughty58 look of his brother, though he was smaller, slighter, and rather less handsome than Sirius had been.
“He played Seeker,” said Harry.
“What?” said Hermione vaguely59; she was still immersed in Voldemort’s press clippings.
“He’s sitting in the middle of the front row, that’s where the Seeker … Never mind,” said Harry, realizing that nobody was listening. Ron was on his hands and knees, searching under the wardrobe. Harry looked around the room for likely hiding places and approached the desk. Yet again, somebody had searched before them. The drawers’ contents had been turned over recently, the dust disturbed, but there was nothing of value there: old quills60, out-of-date textbooks that bore evidence of being roughly handled, a recently smashed ink bottle, its sticky residue61 covering the contents of the drawer.
“There’s an easier way,” said Hermione, as Harry wiped his inky fingers on his jeans. She raised her wand and said, “Accio Locket!”
Nothing happened. Ron, who had been searching the folds of the faded curtains, looked disappointed.
“Is that it, then? It’s not here?”
“Oh, it could still be here, but under counter-enchantments,” said Hermione. “Charms to prevent it from being summoned magically, you know.”
“Like Voldemort put on the stone basin in the cave,” said Harry, remembering how he had been unable to Summon the fake locket.
“How are we supposed to find it then?” asked Ron.
“We search manually,” said Hermione.
“That’s a good idea,” said Ron, rolling his eyes, and he resumed his examination of the curtains.
They combed every inch of the room for more than an hour, but were forced, finally, to conclude that the locket was not there.
The sun had risen now; its light dazzled them even through the grimy landing windows.
“It could be somewhere else in the house, though,” said Hermione in a rallying tone as they walked back downstairs. As Harry and Ron had become more discouraged, she seemed to have become more determined. “Whether he’d manage to destroy it or not, he’d want to keep it hidden from Voldemort, wouldn’t he? Remember all those awful things we had to get rid of when we were here last time? That clock that shot bolts at everyone and those old robes that tried to strangle Ron; Regulus might have put them there to protect the locket’s hiding place, even though we didn’t realize it at … at …”
Harry and Ron looked at her. She was standing with one foot in midair, with the dumbstruck look of one who had just been Obliviated: her eyes had even drifted out of focus.
“… at the time,” she finished in a whisper.
“Something wrong?” asked Ron.
“There was a locket.”
“What?” said Harry and Ron together.
“In the cabinet in the drawing room. Nobody could open it. And we … we …”
Harry felt as though a brick had slid down through his chest into his stomach. He remembered. He had even handled the thing as they passed it around, each trying in turn to pry62 it open. It had been tossed into a sack of rubbish, along with the snuffbox of Wartcap powder and the music box that had made everyone sleepy …
“Kreacher nicked loads of things back from us,” said Harry. It was the only chance, the only slender hope left to them, and he was going to cling to it until forced to let go. “He had a whole stash63 of stuff in his cupboard in the kitchen. C’mon.”
He ran down the stairs taking two steps at a time, the other two thundering along in his wake. They made so much noise that they woke the portrait of Sirius’s mother as they passed through the hall.
“Filth! Mudbloods! Scum!” she screamed after them as they dashed down into the basement kitchen and slammed the door behind them. Harry ran the length of the room, skidded64 to a halt at the door of Kreacher’s cupboard, and wrenched65 it open. There was the nest of dirty old blankets in which the house-elf had once slept, but they were not longer glittering with the trinkets Kreacher had salvaged66. The only thing there was an old copy of Nature’s Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy67. Refusing to believe his eyes, Harry snatched up the blankets and shook them. A dead mouse fell out and rolled dismally68 across the floor. Ron groaned69 as he threw himself into a kitchen chair; Hermione closed her eyes.
“It’s not over yet,” said Harry, and he raised his voice and called, “Kreacher!”
There was a loud crack and the house elf that Harry had so reluctantly inherited from Sirius appeared out of nowhere in front of the cold and empty fireplace: tiny, half human-sized, his pale skin hanging off him in folds, white hair sprouting70 copiously71 from his batlike ears. He was still wearing the filthy72 rag in which they had first met him, and the contemptuous look he bent upon Harry showed that his attitude to his change of ownership had altered no more than his outfit73.
“Master,” croaked74 Kreacher in his bullfrog’s voice, and he bowed low; muttering to his knees, “back in my Mistress’s old house with the blood-traitor Weasley and the Mudblood – ”
“I forbid you to call anyone ‘blood traitor’ or ‘Mudblood,’” growled75 Harry. He would have found Kreacher, with his snoutlike nose and bloodshot eyes, a distinctively76 unlovable object even if the elf had not betrayed Sirius to Voldemort.
“I’ve got a question for you,” said Harry, his heart beating rather fast as he looked down at the elf, “and I order you to answer it truthfully. Understand?”
“Yes, Master,” said Kreacher, bowing low again. Harry saw his lips moving soundlessly, undoubtedly77 framing the insults he was now forbidden to utter.
“Two years ago,” said Harry, his heart now hammering against his ribs78, “there was a big gold locket in the drawing room upstairs. We threw it out. Did you steal it back?”
There was a moment’s silence, during which Kreacher straightened up to look Harry full in the face. Then he said, “Yes.”
“Where is it now?” asked Harry jubilantly as Ron and Hermione looked gleeful.
Kreacher closed his eyes as though he could not bear to see their reactions to his next word.
“Gone.”
“Gone?” echoed Harry, elation79 floating out of him, “What do you mean, it’s gone?”
The elf shivered. He swayed.
“Kreacher,” said Harry fiercely, “I order you – ”
“Mundungus Fletcher,” croaked the elf, his eyes still tight shut. “Mundungus Fletcher stole it all; Miss Bella’s and Miss Cissy’s pictures, my Mistress’s gloves, the Order of Merlin, First Class, the goblets80 with the family crest, and – and – ”
Kreacher was gulping81 for air: His hollow chest was rising and falling rapidly, then his eyes flew open and he uttered a bloodcurdling scream.
“ – and the locket, Master Regulus’s locket. Kreacher did wrong, Kreacher failed in his orders!”
Harry reacted instinctively82: As Kreacher lunged for the poker83 standing in the grate, he launched himself upon the elf, flattening84 him. Hermione’s scream mingled85 with Kreacher’s but Harry bellowed86 louder than both of them: “Kreacher, I order you to stay still!”
He felt the elf freeze and released him. Kreacher lay flat on the cold stone floor, tears gushing87 from his sagging88 eyes.
“Harry, let him up!” Hermione whispered.
“So he can beat himself up with the poker?” snorted Harry, kneeling beside the elf. “I don’t think so. Right. Kreacher, I want the truth: How do you know Mundungus Fletcher stole the locket?”
“Kreacher saw him!” gasped the elf as tears poured over his snout and into his mouth full of graying teeth. “Kreacher saw him coming out of Kreacher’s cupboard with his hands full of Kreacher’s treasures. Kreacher told the sneak89 thief to stop, but Mundungus Fletcher laughed and r-ran …”
“You called the locket ‘Master Regulus’s,’” said Harry. “Why? Where did it come from? What did Regulus have to do with it? Kreacher, sit up and tell me everything you know about that locket, and everything Regulus had to do with it!”
The elf sat up, curled into a ball, placed his wet face between his knees, and began to rock backward and forward. When he spoke90, his voice was muffled91 but quite distinct in the silent, echoing kitchen.
“Master Sirius ran away, good riddance, for he was a bad boy and broke my Mistress’s heart with his lawless ways. But Master Regulus had proper order; he knew what was due to the name of Black and the dignity of his pure blood. For years he talked of the Dark Lord, who was going to bring the wizards out of hiding to rule the Muggles and the Muggle-borns … and when he was sixteen years old, Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord. So proud, so proud, so happy to serve …
And one day, a year after he joined, Master Regulus came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus always liked Kreacher. And Master Regulus said … he said …“
The old elf rocked faster than ever.
“… he said that the Dark Lord required an elf.”
“Voldemort needed an elf?” Harry repeated, looking around at Ron and Hermione, who looked just as puzzled as he did.
“Oh yes,” moaned Kreacher. “And Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher. It was an honor, said Master Regulus, an honor for him and for Kreacher, who must be sure to do whatever the Dark Lord ordered him to do … and then to c-come home.”
Kreacher rocked still faster, his breath coming in sobs93.
“So Kreacher went to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord did not tell Kreacher what they were to do, but took Kreacher with him to a cave beside the sea. And beyond the cave was a cavern94, and in the cavern was a great black lake …”
The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stood up. Kreacher’s croaking95 voice seemed to come to him from across the dark water. He saw what had happened as clearly as though he had been present.
“… There was a boat …”
Of course there had been a boat; Harry knew the boat, ghostly green and tiny, bewitched so as to carry one wizard and one victim toward the island in the center. This, then, was how Voldemort had tested the defenses surrounding the Horcrux, by borrowing a disposable creature, a house-elf…
“There was a b-basin full of potion on the island. The D-Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it …”
The elf quaked from head to foot.
“Kreacher drank, and as he drank he saw terrible thing … Kreacher’s insides burned … Kreacher cried for Master Regulus to save him, he cried for his Mistress Black, but the Dark Lord only laughed … He made Kreacher drink all the potion … He dropped a locket into the empty basin … He filled it with more potion.”
“And then the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving Kreacher on the island …”
Harry could see it happening. He watched Voldemort’s white, snakelike face vanishing into darkness, those red eyes fixed96 pitilessly on the thrashing elf whose death would occur within minutes, whenever he succumbed97 to the desperate thirst that the burning poison caused its victim … But here, Harry’s imagination could go no further, for he could not see how Kreacher had escaped.
“Kreacher needed water, he crawled to the island’s edge and he drank from the black lake … and hands, dead hands, came out of the water and dragged Kreacher under the surface …”
“How did you get away?” Harry asked, and he was not surprised to hear himself whispering.
Kreacher raised his ugly head and looked Harry with his great, bloodshot eyes.
“Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back,” he said.
“I know – but how did you escape the Inferi?”
Kreacher did not seem to understand.
“Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back,” he repeated.
“I know, but – ”
“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it, Harry?” said Ron. “He Disapparated!”
“But … you couldn’t Apparate in and out of that cave,” said Harry, “otherwise Dumbledore – ”
“Elf magic isn’t like wizard’s magic, is it?” said Ron, “I mean, they can Apparate and Disapparate in and out of Hogwarts when we can’t.”
There was a silence as Harry digested this. How could Voldemort have made such a mistake? But even as he thought this, Hermione spoke, and her voice was icy.
“Of course, Voldemort would have considered the ways of house-elves far beneath his notice … It would never have occurred to him that they might have magic that he didn’t.”
“The house-elf’s highest law is his Master’s bidding,” intoned Kreacher. “Kreacher was told to come home, so Kreacher came home …”
“Well, then, you did what you were told, didn’t you?” said Hermione kindly98. “You didn’t disobey orders at all!”
Kreacher shook his head, rocking as fast as ever.
“So what happened when you got back?” Harry asked. “What did Regulus say when you told him what happened?”
“Master Regulus was very worried, very worried,” croaked Kreacher. “Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden and not to leave the house. And then … it was a little while later … Master Regulus came to find Kreacher in his cupboard one night, and Master Regulus was strange, not as he usually was, disturbed in his mind, Kreacher could tell … and he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord …”
And so they had set off. Harry could visualize99 them quite clearly, the frightened old elf and the thin, dark Seeker who had so resembled Sirius … Kreacher knew how to open the concealed100 entrance to the underground cavern, knew how to raise the tiny boat: this time it was his beloved Regulus who sailed with him to the island with its basin of poison …
“And he made you drink the poison?” said Harry, disgusted.
But Kreacher shook his head and wept. Hermione’s hands leapt to her mouth: She seemed to have understood something.
“M-Master Regulus took from his pocket a locket like the one the Dark Lord had,” said Kreacher, tears pouring down either side of his snoutlike nose. “And he told Kreacher to take it and, when the basin was empty, to switch the lockets …”
Kreacher’s sobs came in great rasps now; Harry had to concentrate hard to understand him.
“And he order – Kreacher to leave – without him. And he told Kreacher – to go home – and never to tell my Mistress – what he had done – but to destroy – the first locket. And he drank – all the potion – and Kreacher swapped101 the lockets – and watched … as Master Regulus … was dragged beneath the water … and …”
“Oh, Kreacher!” wailed102 Hermione, who was crying. She dropped to her knees beside the elf and tried to hug him. At once he was on his feet, cringing103 away from her, quite obviously repulsed104.
“The Mudblood touched Kreacher, he will not allow it, what would his Mistress say?”
“I told you not to call her ‘Mudblood’!” snarled105 Harry, but the elf was already punishing himself. He fell to the ground and banged his forehead on the floor.
“Stop him – stop him!” Hermione cried. “Oh, don’t you see now how sick it is, the way they’ve got to obey?”
“Kreacher – stop, stop!” shouted Harry.
The elf lay on the floor, panting and shivering, green mucus glistening106 around his snot, a bruise107 already blooming on his pallid108 forehead where he had struck himself, his eyes swollen109 and bloodshot and swimming in tears. Harry had never seen anything so pitiful.
“So you brought the locket home,” he said relentlessly110, for he was determined to know the full story. “And you tried to destroy it?”
“Nothing Kreacher did made any mark upon it,” moaned the elf. “Kreacher tried everything, everything he knew, but nothing, nothing would work … So many powerful spells upon the casing, Kreacher was sure the way to destroy it was to get inside it, but it would not open … Kreacher punished himself, he tried again, he punished himself, he tried again. Kreacher failed to obey orders, Kreacher could not destroy the locket! And his mistress was mad with grief, because Master Regulus had disappeared and Kreacher could not tell her what had happened, no, because Master Regulus had f-f-forbidden him to tell any of the f-f-family what happened in the c-cave …”
Kreacher began to sob92 so hard that there were no more coherent words. Tears flowed down Hermione’s cheeks as she watched Kreacher, but she did not dare touch him again. Even Ron, who was no fan of Kreacher’s, looked troubled. Harry sat back on his heels and shook his head, trying to clear it.
“I don’t understand you, Kreacher,” he said finally. “Voldemort tried to kill you, Regulus died to bring Voldemort down, but you were still happy to betray Sirius to Voldemort? You were happy to go to Narcissa and Bellatrix, and pass information to Voldemort through them …”
“Harry, Kreacher doesn’t think like that,” said Hermione, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. “He’s a slave; house-elves are used to bad, even brutal111 treatment; what Voldemort did to Kreacher wasn’t that far out of the common way. What do wizard wars mean to an elf like Kreacher? He’s loyal to people who are kind to him, and Mrs. Black must have been, and Regulus certainly was, so he served them willingly and parroted their beliefs. I know what you’re going to say,” she went on as Harry began to protest, “that Regulus changed his mind … but he doesn’t seem to have explained that to Kreacher, does he? And I think I know why. Kreacher and Regulus’s family were all safest if they kept to the old pure-blood line. Regulus was trying to protect them all.”
“Sirius – ”
“Sirius was horrible to Kreacher, Harry, and it’s no good looking like that, you know it’s true. Kreacher had been alone for such a long time when Sirius came to live here, and he was probably starving for a bit of affection. I’m sure ‘Miss Cissy’ and ‘Miss Bella’ were perfectly112 lovely to Kreacher when he turned up, so he did them a favor and told them everything they wanted to know. I’ve said all along that wizards would pay for how they treat house-elves. Well, Voldemort did … and so did Sirius.”
Harry had no retort. As he watched Kreacher sobbing113 on the floor, he remembered what Dumbledore had said to him, mere114 hours after Sirius’s death: I do not think Sirius ever saw Kreacher as a being with feelings as acute as a human’s …
“Kreacher,” said Harry after a while, “when you feel up to it, er … please sit up.”
It was several minutes before Kreacher hiccupped himself into silence. Then he pushed himself into a sitting position again, rubbing his knuckles115 into his eyes like a small child.
“Kreacher, I am going to ask you to do something,” said Harry. He glanced at Hermione for assistance. He wanted to give the order kindly, but at the same time, he could not pretend that it was not an order. However, the change in his tone seemed to have gained her approval: She smiled encouragingly.
“Kreacher, I want you, please, to go and find Mundungus Fletcher. We need to find out where the locket – where Master Regulus’s locket it. It’s really important. We want to finish the work Master Regulus started, we want to – er – ensure that he didn’t die in vain.”
Kreacher dropped his fists and looked up at Harry.
“Find Mundungus Fletcher?” he croaked.
“And bring him here, to Grimmauld Place,” said Harry. “Do you think you could do that for us?”
As Kreacher nodded and got to his feet, Harry had a sudden inspiration. He pulled out Hagrid’s purse and took out the fake Horcrux, the substitute locket in which Regulus had placed the note to Voldemort.
“Kreacher, I’d, er, like you to have this,” he said, pressing the locket into the elf’s hand. “This belonged to Regulus and I’m sure he’d want you to have it as a token of gratitude116 for what you – ”
“Overkill, mate,” said Ron as the elf took one look at the locket, let out a howl of shock and misery117, and threw himself back onto the ground.
It took them nearly half an hour to calm down Kreacher, who was so overcome to be presented with a Black family heirloom for his very own that he was too weak at the knees to stand properly. When finally he was able to totter118 a few steps they all accompanied him to his cupboard, watched him tuck up the locket safely in his dirty blankets, and assured him that they would make its protection their first priority while he was away. He then made two low bows to Harry and Ron, and even gave a funny little spasm119 in Hermione’s direction that might have been an attempt at a respectful salute120, before Disapparating with the usual loud crack.
第二天一大早，哈利就从客厅地板上的睡袋里醒过来了。从厚实的窗帘露出的缝隙里隐约可以看到外面的天空，黎明前的天空呈现出淡淡的水蓝色波纹，伴随着阵阵凉意，一切都是那么安静，只听到罗恩和赫敏缓慢深沉的呼吸。哈利看着他们在他身边的地板上投下的阴影。罗恩逞英雄地坚持要赫敏睡在沙发垫上，她的身影在他之上。赫敏的胳膊伸向地板，手指离罗恩的很近。哈利想知道他们是不是手牵手睡的，这个念头让他觉得格外孤单。
他看着阴暗的天花板，看着布满蛛网的支形吊灯。不到24小时前，他在阳光中，站在大帐篷的入口处，准备为婚礼的来宾引路，那些似乎都是上辈子的事了。现在又会怎样呢？他躺在地板上，想着魂器，那是邓布利多留给他的复杂而艰巨的使命……邓布利多……
校长去世给他带来的悲痛似乎和以往相比有了些变化，穆丽尔在婚礼上的谴责似乎像恶疾一样进入了他的头脑，感染了他心中对校长那崇敬的心情。邓布利多会让那种事发生吗？难道他曾经也和达力一样，只要事不关己，就坐视不理？他真的不理会他那被监禁和藏匿的妹妹吗？
哈利想到了高锥克山谷，想到了那些邓布利多从未提起过的坟墓，他还想起了在邓布利多在遗嘱里没有对那些神秘的物件给出任何解释，怨恨之情在黑暗中逐渐膨胀起来。为什么邓布利多不告诉他？为什么他不解释清楚？邓布利多到底有没有关心过哈利？还是哈利对他来说仅仅是一个需要打磨光滑的工具，从不会去相信他，从不会去信任他？
哈利再也无法忍受只能怀着痛苦的心情躺在那里，他现在迫切的需要找点什么事，好分散一下注意力．于是他从睡袋里爬了出来，拾起魔杖，蹑手蹑脚地走出房间。在楼梯口他低声道:“荧光闪烁，”借着魔杖发出的微弱光亮，他沿着楼梯走上去。
三楼是他和罗恩上次睡觉的地方，他朝里扫了一眼，衣橱的门开着，被套也被撕开了，哈利又想起了楼下那个倒在地上的巨怪腿。有人在凤凰社离开搜查过这间房子！是斯内普吗？还是蒙顿格斯，那个在小天狼星生前和死后都从这屋子里偷走大量东西的小偷？哈利的目光徘徊在菲尼亚斯·奈杰勒斯的肖像框上----他是小天狼星的曾曾祖父。但是现在像框里什么都没有，只有一个泥泞的背景幕。很明显，菲尼亚斯·奈杰勒斯到霍格沃茨的校长办公室过夜去了。
哈利继续顺着楼梯向上，一直走到了顶楼，那只有两扇门。正对着他的那扇门上挂着一个牌子，上面写着：“小天狼星”。哈利以前从未到过他教父的房间，他推开门，高举魔杖，好让荧光照到的范围更大一些。
房间很大，而且这里以前一定相当气派。房间里有张大床，木质的床头版上镂刻着花纹；高高的窗户被长天鹅绒窗帘遮着；支形吊灯上覆盖着厚厚的一层灰，蜡烛还插在烛架上，周围凝结着一滴滴的烛泪。墙上的图片和床头板上也是灰蒙蒙的，蜘蛛网从吊灯一直延伸到大木衣橱上。当哈利往里走时，他还听到了受到惊吓的老鼠的脚步声。
年轻的小天狼星用海报和图片把银灰色的墙遮得只露几条缝隙，哈利猜想小天狼星的父母没有办法对付那个永久粘贴咒，因为他可以肯定他们是绝对不会赞同大儿子在装饰方面的欣赏品位的。小天狼星似乎是在故意惹怒他的双亲。房间里有好几面巨大的格兰芬多旗帜，褪色的猩红色和金色标志着他不同于其他斯莱特林的家庭。一些麻瓜摩托车的图片也贴在墙上，还有（哈利确实很佩服小天狼星的勇气）几个穿着比基尼的麻瓜女孩的海报。哈利认出那些是麻瓜，是因为她们都固定在画上，褪色的微笑和明亮的双眸一动不动。与这些图片形成鲜明对比的是墙上唯一的一张巫师相片，四个霍格沃茨学生手挽着手，对着镜头大笑。
哈利轻快的跑过去，他认出了他的父亲，那乱糟糟的黑发竖在后脑勺上，就和哈利一样，而且他也带着眼镜。站在他父亲边上的是小天狼星，带着几分不经意的帅气，他那流露出些许傲慢的脸庞，比哈利以往任何时候见到的都要年轻和开心。小矮星在小天狼星右边，比他矮了一个头，圆鼓鼓、水汪汪的小眼睛里闪烁着因为与这么酷的一群人为伴而产生的兴奋光芒。詹姆的左边是卢平，虽然相较之下显得有点寒酸，但是同样喜气洋洋----他们喜爱他接纳了他，不过也许这只是因为他们看到哈利看到了这张相片呢？他想把它从墙上揭下来；现在这是他的了，毕竟，小天狼星把一切都留给了他，但是哈利取不下来。看来小天狼星作了所有的预防工作以阻止他父母把这房子重新装饰。
哈利细细打量着四周。外面的天空开始明亮起来，一缕光柱照在了散落一地的零碎纸片，书籍，以及一些小物件。很明显，小天狼星的房间被搜查过了，地上的那些基本上被当做没有价值的东西了。有些书被粗鲁的翻动过，封面与书本被分开，一页页纸把地板弄得凌乱不堪。
哈利弯下腰捡起一些纸片，仔细辨认着。他认出其中一张是从老版本的《魔法史》（巴希达·巴沙特著）上撕下来的，另一张曾属于某本摩托车养护手册。第三张是手写的，而且皱巴巴的。他把它展平，读了起来。
亲爱的大脚板：
谢谢你送给哈利的生日礼物！这是他目前最喜欢的一件了。刚刚一岁大的他就开始坐着玩具扫帚飞速上升，他看起来很为这个高兴呢。你可以看看我随信寄来的照片。虽然只能离地两英尺，但是他差点弄死了一只猫，而且打碎了佩妮在圣诞节送给我们一只可怕的花瓶（这可没什么大不了的）。詹姆觉得这很有趣，还说他将来会是个很棒的魁地奇队员，但是我们不得不把所有的装饰品都收起来，并且在他飞的时候时时刻刻的盯着他。
我们过了一个相当平静的生日茶会，只有我们和老巴希达，她总是对我们好得不得了，而且她很溺爱哈利。你没来真是太遗憾了，但是凤凰社是应该摆在第一位的，而且哈利太小，还根本意识不到这是他的生日！与外界隔绝让詹姆有点失落，虽然他努力掩饰，但是我看得出来。邓布利多还拿走了他的隐形衣，这让他完全没有可能去郊游了。要是你能过来拜访一下，他肯定会振奋得多。虫尾巴上个周末过来了一趟。我觉得他看起来也有点无精打采的样子，可能是因为那些关于麦克米拉根的消息，知道那消息后，我哭了一整晚。
巴希达几乎每天都来，常常讲些非常有趣的关于邓布利多的旧事。我不确定邓布利多知道以后会开心！不知道有多少是可以相信的，事实上，那些事放在邓布利多身上显得太难以置信了……
哈利的四肢似乎失去了知觉。他定定地站着，紧张得有点痉挛的手指死死抓着这张看起来不可思议的纸片，火山爆发一样的兴奋在他心里翻滚，相伴而来的悲痛流遍了他的全身，他跌坐在了小天狼星的大床上。
他把这封信又看了一遍，但是并没有看到更多的内容。于是他开始琢磨起写信的字体来。她写的“g”和他的一模一样。哈利一个字一个字地看着，一遍又一遍，每看一遍都感觉是轻柔地透过面纱捕捉他们的影像，他们的气息。这封信真是个不可思议的宝贝，这让他切实地感受到，莉莉·波特曾在这个世界上存在过，真实地生活过，她温暖的手曾在这张羊皮纸上移动，让墨水在纸上流淌，这些文字，这些关于他的文字，哈利，她的孩子。
哈利匆匆擦去眼睛里的泪水，他把这封信再次读了一遍，这次他的注意力集中在信的意思上。感觉就是像在听着一个似曾相识的声音在讲话。
他们曾经有过一只猫·……也许已经像他在高锥克山谷的父母一样化为了尘土……也许跑掉了，因为没有人来喂它·……小天狼星送给了他第一把飞天扫帚……他的爸爸妈妈认识巴希达·巴沙特，是邓布利多介绍给他们的吗？邓布利多一直保存着他的隐形斗篷……这听起来似乎很有趣……
哈利顿住了，思考起他母亲说的话。邓布利多为什么要拿詹姆的隐形衣？哈利清清楚楚地记得校长几年前曾告诉过他“我可不是非要隐形衣才能隐形”。也许是凤凰社里不那么厉害的成员需要这个的帮助的吧，难道邓布利多还充当过跑腿的角色吗？哈利继续揣测着……
虫尾巴曾经在这待过……小矮星，那个叛徒，曾经“无精打采”？那时的他意识到这是他最后一次见到詹姆和莉莉了吗？
最后又提到了巴希达，这个女人曾经说过一些关于邓布利多的难以置信的小故事……她说邓布利多----
她说邓布利多怎么了？关于邓布利多的，可能让人感觉到难以置信的事太多了。比如在变形考试上拿了个低得可怜的分数，或者是像阿不福思一样给山羊施了个魔法……
哈里站起身，仔细检查着地板；也许信的其余几页就在这附近也说不定呢。他急切地搜寻着一张张的纸片，如同先前那个搜查者一样粗暴，他拉开抽屉，使劲摇晃着书，站在凳子上用手去够衣橱顶，在床下和扶手椅下爬行。
最后，他趴在地板上，在五斗橱下面发现了一张被撕破的纸片。他把那张纸片掏出来，认出这正是莉莉描述过的那张相片。一个黑头发的男孩正坐着一个小扫帚在照片内外冲进冲出，开心地大笑着，一双应该是属于詹姆的大脚紧跟其后。他把相片和莉莉的信卷起放进了口袋，继续去寻找下一张纸片。
又一刻钟过去了，他不得不承认母亲那封信的其余部分确实是不见了。它是在那十六年间就被弄丢了，还是被那个搜查过房间的人拿去了呢？哈利又看了一遍信的第一页，这次是为了寻找可能对第二页的内容有价值的线索。食死徒当然不会对他的玩具扫帚感兴趣……他唯一猜到的，可能是那些关于邓布利多的事有什么重大意义。她说邓布利多--她说了什么呢？
“哈利？哈利？”
“我在这呢！”他叫到，“怎么了”？
门外传来一阵急促的脚步声，赫敏几乎是破门而入。
“我们一醒来就找不到你了！”她气喘吁吁地说完，过身大喊道：“罗恩！我找到他了！”
罗恩恼火的声音伴着回声从几层楼下传了上来。
“真不错！替我告诉他他就是个混球！”
“哈利，请不要玩失踪可以吗，我们担心死了！你为什么到楼上来？”她环视着房间。“你到这来干什么？”
“看看我都找到了什么！”
他把他妈妈的信举起来，赫敏接了过去，看完之后她抬起头看着他：
“噢，哈利……”
“还有这个。”
他把那张有点破烂的相片给她看，赫敏看着相片上骑着玩具扫帚横冲直撞的小男孩笑了起来。
“我正在找信的其余部分，”哈利说，“但是它们不在这。”
赫敏四下看了看。
“是你把这弄成这样的吗？还是你一来这里就是这样？”
“有人在我之前就已经搜查过这里了，”哈利说。
“我也这么认为。我一路上来，看到每间房都被搜过一遍。你觉得他们在找什么？”
“关于凤凰社的信息，如果这是斯内普干的。”
“但是你想啊，他应该早已经拿到了他想要的东西了，我的意思是，他曾是凤凰社的一员啊，不是吗？”
“那么，”哈利热心地想把他的理论推销出去，“那么那些关于邓布利多的信息？信的第二页就该是这个了。你看我妈妈提到的这个巴希达，你知道她是谁吗？”
“谁？”
“巴希达·巴沙特，就是她写的……”
“就是她写的《魔法史》，”赫敏回答道，看起来很兴奋，“这么说你的父母认识她？她是个不可思议的历史学家。”
“而且她现在还活着，”哈利说，“她就住在高锥克山谷。罗恩的穆丽尔姨妈曾在婚礼上说起过她。她了解邓布利多的家庭。她还对这个话题很感兴趣呢，不是吗？”
赫敏看着哈利的样子，了然的微笑着。哈利不想和她对视，不想在她面前过多的流露出自己的心情，他拿回信和照片，塞进脖子上的小袋子里。
“我理解为什么你想和她谈论一下你爸妈还有邓布利多的事，”赫敏说，“但是这样做对我们找魂器一点帮助都没有，不是吗？”哈利没有回答。赫敏继续说道：“哈利，我知道你非常想去高锥克山谷，但是我很害怕，昨天食死徒那么容易就能找到我们，这真的让我很害怕。而且这更加让我觉得我们不应该去你父母埋葬的地方了，我敢肯定他们正等着这你去那呢！”
“不仅仅是那样，”哈利说，还是不肯看她，“穆丽尔在婚礼上说了一些关于邓布利多的事，我想知道事实是怎样的。”
他把穆丽尔告诉他的所有事情都告诉了赫敏。当他说完以后，赫敏说，“当然，我明白是什么让你这么心烦意乱了，哈利……”
“我没有心烦意乱，”他撒谎道，“我只是想知道那到底是真的还是……”
“哈利，难道你真的认为从穆丽尔那种恶毒的老女人，或者丽塔斯基特那里能够得到真相吗？你怎么能相信他们？你了解邓布利多的！”
“以前我确实以为我了解，”他咕哝道。
“但是你知道丽塔写的关于你的那些报道有几句是真的！多戈是对的，你怎么能让那种人来玷污你记忆中的邓布利多!”
他把目光移开了，努力不让自己的怨恨之情流露出来。现在他又面临了这样一个选择：到底应该相信什么。他想知道真相，但是为什么每个人都认为他不该知道这个？
“我们去厨房怎么样？”一阵短暂的沉默后赫敏这样建议。“吃点东西吧？”
他答应了，不过答应得很勉强，哈利跟着赫敏走到了楼梯平台，经过刚才遗漏的第二扇门。一开始在黑暗中他没有注意到门口小牌子的油漆上上深深的划痕。这次走到楼梯口的时候他仔细辨认着，这是块小小的，华而不实的牌子，工整的手写字体写着的内容也许能让珀西韦斯莱很愿意地在他门上也粘一个：
若没有雷古勒斯(R)?阿塔洛斯(A)?布莱克(B)的特批
请勿打扰
一股兴奋之情在哈利身上蔓延，但是他也没有马上明白这是什么原因。他把那块牌子又读了一遍，赫敏已经在他前面走下楼梯了。
“赫敏，”他惊讶于自己的声音居然可以这么冷静。“回到这儿来。”
“怎么了？”
“R·A·B……我想我找到他了！”
赫敏倒吸了一口凉气，急忙跑回了楼梯平台。
“在你妈妈的信里吗？我怎么没看……”
哈利摇了摇头，指着雷古勒斯的牌子。她看了看，突然紧紧地抓住了哈利的胳膊。
“小天狼星的弟弟？”她轻声说。
“他是个食死徒，”哈利说。“小天狼星告诉过我，他弟弟很小的时候就加入了那个队伍，但是后来又畏缩起来，并且打算离开……于是他们就把他给杀了。”
“那就对了！”赫敏喘着粗气说，“如果他是一个食死徒他就有机会接近伏地魔，如果他觉悟过来，他就会想办法对付伏地魔！”
她松开了哈利，靠着楼梯扶手尖声道：“罗恩！罗恩！上来！快点！”
一分钟后，罗恩出现了，气喘吁吁的，手里还紧握着魔杖。
“怎么回事？如果这次又是一个大型蜘蛛那我可得先把早饭给吃了然后再来--”
他皱起眉头顺着赫敏指着方向看了看雷古勒斯门上的牌子。
“这是什么？不就是小天狼星的弟弟吗？雷古勒斯·阿塔洛斯……雷古勒斯……R·A·B！那个挂坠盒！你们想起来没？”
“我们去看看，”哈利说。他推了推门，门是锁的 。赫敏拿出魔杖对准门把手念到：“阿拉霍洞开。”随着喀哒一声响，门开了。
他们一起走了进去，环视四周。雷古勒斯的卧室比小天狼星的稍微小一点，不过同样华丽宏伟。和努力把自己标榜得与家族不一样的小天狼星不同，雷古勒斯尽力保持着一致。床上，墙上，还有窗户上，遍布斯莱特林的翠绿和银色。布莱克家庭的徽章和座右铭“纯种”被煞费苦心地刷在床上。在这下面是一些泛黄的剪报，凑在一起，就像一幅粗糙的拼贴画。赫敏走过房间仔细查看着这些报纸。
“全是关于伏地魔的，”她说。“雷古勒斯似乎在加入食死徒之前就对他着迷已久……”
她坐在床上，好读起来方便一点，一股灰尘从被套上腾起。哈利注意到了另一张相片：一支霍格沃茨魁地奇球队笑着，挥舞着手。他靠近查看，发现他们胸膛上的徽章上刻着一条蛇，是斯莱特林。很容易就能认出坐在第一排正中间的是雷古勒斯：他和他的哥哥有着同样的黑发和同样带着些许傲慢的表情。不过他显得更瘦小一些，也没有小天狼星那样帅气。
“他是找球手。”哈利说。
“什么？”赫敏含糊的问。她仍然沉浸在关于伏地魔的剪报中。
“他坐在第一排中间，这是找球手的位置……没什么。”哈利意识到没人在听他讲话。罗恩正趴在衣柜下搜查。哈利扫视着整个房间，寻找可能藏有东西的地方，他靠近书桌，不出意料，有人已经在他们之前搜过了。抽屉最近刚被人翻动过，灰尘也被擦乱了。这里没有什么有价值的东西：旧羽毛笔，明显曾被粗心大意使用过的旧课本，一个不久前才被打碎的墨水瓶，还有残留的墨汁覆盖着抽屉的底板。
“有一个更简单的方法，”当哈利在牛仔裤上擦拭他沾着墨水的手指头时，赫敏说。她举起魔杖念道：“金挂坠盒飞来！”
什么都没有发生。罗恩刚刚检查完那些褪色窗帘的褶皱，一脸失望。
“就这样吗？它不在这儿？”
“噢，它可能仍然在这里，不过被施了反咒，让人不能用咒语召唤它。”赫敏说。
“就像伏地魔对山洞里的石盆所做的一样，”哈利说，记起在山洞中他不能召唤假盒子的事情。
“那我们怎么才能找到它？”罗恩问道。
“用手一点一点找。”赫敏回答。
“真是个好主意。”罗恩转了转眼珠子，继续检查那些窗帘。
他们花了一个多小时，仔细搜遍了房间的每一英寸，最后还是不得不承认盒子并不在这里。
太阳已经升起来了，耀眼的阳光从肮脏的落地窗照进来。
“但它可能在房子的其他某一个角落里。”下楼时赫敏语调高昂。尽管哈利和罗恩变得更加沮丧，她却仿佛更有信心了。“不管他是否已经设法毁掉了它，他都想把它在伏地魔眼皮子底下藏起来，不是吗？还记得上次我们来这里时不得不清理的那些恶心的东西吗？朝每个人发射螺钉的老爷钟和想勒死罗恩的旧长袍；雷古勒斯可能把它们放在那儿来掩护那个盒子，尽管我们当时没有意识到……”
哈利和罗恩看着她，她一只脚停在半空中，目瞪口呆，脸上是一副被施过遗忘咒的表情，目光游移，没有焦点。
“……这些，”她低声结束了这句话。<
收听单词发音 |
1
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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3
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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daunting
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| adj.使人畏缩的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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accusations
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| n.指责( accusation的名词复数 )；指控；控告；（被告发、控告的）罪名 | |
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imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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11
distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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12
pilfered
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| v.偷窃（小东西），小偷( pilfer的过去式和过去分词 )；偷窃（一般指小偷小摸） | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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15
sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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scurrying
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| v.急匆匆地走( scurry的现在分词 ) | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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18
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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19
stationary
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| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
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20
glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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23
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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24
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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27
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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28
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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29
zooming
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| adj.快速上升的v.（飞机、汽车等）急速移动( zoom的过去分词 )；（价格、费用等）急升，猛涨 | |
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30
petunia
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| n.矮牵牛花 | |
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31
ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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32
frustrated
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| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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33
extremities
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| n.端点( extremity的名词复数 )；尽头；手和足；极窘迫的境地 | |
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34
numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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eruptions
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| n.喷发，爆发( eruption的名词复数 ) | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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38
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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40
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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41
ransacked
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| v.彻底搜查( ransack的过去式和过去分词 )；抢劫，掠夺 | |
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42
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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43
pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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44
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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45
tarnish
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| n.晦暗，污点；vt.使失去光泽；玷污 | |
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46
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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47
trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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48
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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49
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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51
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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52
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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53
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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54
painstakingly
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| adv. 费力地 苦心地 | |
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55
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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56
collage
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| n.拼贴画；v.拼贴；把……创作成拼贴画 | |
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57
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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58
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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59
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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60
quills
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| n.（刺猬或豪猪的）刺( quill的名词复数 )；羽毛管；翮；纡管 | |
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61
residue
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| n.残余，剩余，残渣 | |
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62
pry
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| vi.窥(刺)探，打听；vt.撬动(开，起) | |
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63
stash
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| v.藏或贮存于一秘密处所；n.隐藏处 | |
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64
skidded
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| v.（通常指车辆） 侧滑( skid的过去式和过去分词 )；打滑；滑行；（住在）贫民区 | |
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65
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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66
salvaged
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| （从火灾、海难等中）抢救（某物）( salvage的过去式和过去分词 )； 回收利用（某物） | |
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67
genealogy
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| n.家系，宗谱 | |
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68
dismally
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| adv.阴暗地，沉闷地 | |
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69
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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70
sprouting
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| v.发芽( sprout的现在分词 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
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71
copiously
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| adv.丰富地，充裕地 | |
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72
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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73
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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74
croaked
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的过去式和过去分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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75
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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distinctively
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| adv.特殊地，区别地 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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78
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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79
elation
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| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
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80
goblets
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| n.高脚酒杯( goblet的名词复数 ) | |
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81
gulping
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的现在分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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82
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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83
poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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84
flattening
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| n. 修平 动词flatten的现在分词 | |
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85
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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86
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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87
gushing
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| adj.迸出的；涌出的；喷出的；过分热情的v.喷，涌( gush的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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88
sagging
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| 下垂[沉，陷]，松垂，垂度 | |
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sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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91
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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92
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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croaking
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的现在分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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succumbed
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| 不再抵抗（诱惑、疾病、攻击等）( succumb的过去式和过去分词 )； 屈从； 被压垮； 死 | |
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98
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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99
visualize
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| vt.使看得见，使具体化，想象，设想 | |
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100
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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101
swapped
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| 交换（工作）( swap的过去式和过去分词 )； 用…替换，把…换成，掉换（过来） | |
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102
wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
cringing
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| adj.谄媚，奉承 | |
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104
repulsed
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| v.击退( repulse的过去式和过去分词 )；驳斥；拒绝 | |
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105
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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106
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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107
bruise
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| n.青肿，挫伤；伤痕；vt.打青；挫伤 | |
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108
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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109
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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relentlessly
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| adv.不屈不挠地；残酷地；不间断 | |
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111
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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112
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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113
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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114
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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115
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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116
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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117
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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118
totter
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| v.蹒跚， 摇摇欲坠；n.蹒跚的步子 | |
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119
spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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120
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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