“What’s wrong?”
They had only just reached the grave of the unknown Abbott.
“There’s someone there. Someone watching us. I can tell. There, over by the bushes.”
They stood quite still, holding on to each other, gazing at the dense2 black boundary of the graveyard3. Harry could not see anything.
“Are you sure?”
“I saw something move. I could have sworn I did…”
She broke from him to free her wand arm.
“We look like Muggles,” Harry pointed4 out.
“Muggles who’ve just been laying flowers on your parents’ grave? Harry, I’m sure there’s someone over there!”
Harry thought of A History of Magic; the graveyard was supposed to be haunted; what if –? But then he heard a rustle5 and saw a little eddy6 of dislodged snow in the bush to which Hermione had pointed. Ghosts could not move snow.
“It’s a cat,” said Harry, after a second or two, “or a bird. If it was a Death Eater we’d be dead by now. But let’s get out of here, and we can put the Cloak back on.”
They glanced back repeatedly as they made their way out of the graveyard. Harry, who did not feel as sanguine7 as he had pretended when reassuring8 Hermione, was glad to reach the gate and the slippery pavement. They pulled the Invisibility Cloak back over themselves. The pub was fuller than before. Many voices inside it were now singing the carol that they had heard as they approached the church. For a moment, Harry considered suggesting they take refuge inside it, but before he could say anything Hermione murmured, “Let’s go this way,” and pulled him down the dark street leading out of the village in the opposite direction from which they had entered. Harry could make out the point where the cottages ended and the lane turned into open country again. They walked as quickly as they dared, past more windows sparkling with multicolored lights, the outlines of Christmas trees dark through the curtains.
“How are we going to find Bathilda’s house?” asked Hermione, who was shivering a little and kept glancing back over her shoulder. “Harry? What do you think? Harry?”
She tugged9 at this arm, but Harry was not paying attention. He was looking toward the dark mass that stood at the very end of this row of houses. Next moment he sped up, dragging Hermione along with him, she slipped a little on the ice.
“Harry –”
“Look… Look at it, Hermione…”
“I don’t… oh!”
He could see it; the Fidelius Charm must have died with James and Lily. The hedge had grown wild in the sixteen years since Hagrid had taken Harry from the rubble10 that lay scattered11 amongst the waist-high grass. Most of the cottage was still standing12, though entirely13 covered in the dark ivy14 and snow, but the right side of the top floor had been blown apart; that, Harry was sure, was where the curse had backfired. He and Hermione stood at the gate, gazing up at the wreck15 of what must once have been a cottage just like those that flanked it.
“I wonder why nobody’s ever rebuilt it?” whispered Hermione.
“Maybe you can’t rebuild it?” Harry replied. “Maybe it’s like the injuries from Dark Magic and you can’t repair the damage?”
He slipped a hand from beneath the Cloak and grasped the snowy and thickly rusted16 gate, not wishing to open it, but simply so he’d some part of the house.
“You’re not going to go inside? It looks unsafe, it might – oh, Harry, look!”
His touch on the gate seemed to have done it. A sign had risen out of the ground in front of them, up thorough the tangles17 of nettles18 and weeds, like some bizarre, fast-growing flower, and in golden letters upon the wood it said:
On this spot, on this night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains19 the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing20 Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder21 of the violence that tore apart their family.
And all around these neatly22 lettered words, scribbles23 had been added by other witches and wizards who had come to see the place where the Boy Who Lived had escaped. Some had merely signed their names in Everlasting24 Ink; others had carved their initials into the wood, still others had left messages. The most recent of these, shining brightly over sixteen years’ worth of magical graffiti, all said similar things.
Good luck, Harry, wherever you are.
If you read this, Harry, we’re all behind you!
Long live Harry Potter.
“They shouldn’t have written on the sign!“ said Hermione, indignant.
But Harry beamed at her.
“It’s brilliant. I’m glad they did. I…”
He broke off. A heavily muffled25 figure was hobbling up the lane toward them, silhouetted26 by the bright lights in the distant square. Harry thought, though it was hard to judge, that the figure was a woman. She was moving slowly, possibly frightened of slipping on the snowy ground. Her stoop, her stoutness27, her shuffling29 gait all gave an impression of extreme age. They watched in silence as she drew nearer. Harry was waiting to see whether she would turn into any of the cottages she was passing, but he knew instinctively30 that she would not. At last she came to a halt a few yards from them and simply stood there in the middle of the frozen road, facing them.
He did not need Hermione’s pinch to his arm. There was next to no chance that this woman was a Muggle: She was standing there gazing at a house that ought to have been completely invisible to her, if she was not a witch. Even assuming that she was a witch, however, it was odd behavior to come out on a night this cold, simply to look at an old ruin. By all the rules of normal magic, meanwhile, she ought not to be able to see Hermione and him at all. Nevertheless, Harry had the strangest feeling that she knew that they were there, and also who they were. Just as he had reached this uneasy conclusion, she raised a gloved hand and beckoned31.
Hermione moved closer to him under the Cloak, her arm pressed against his.
“How does she know?”
He shook his head. The woman beckoned again, more vigorously. Harry could think of many reasons not to obey the summons, and yet his suspicions about her identity were growing stronger every moment that they stood facing each other in the deserted33 street.
Was it possible that she had been waiting for them all these long months? That Dumbledore had told her to wait, and that Harry would come in the end? Was it not likely that it was she who had moved in the shadows in the graveyard and had followed them to this spot? Even her ability to sense them suggested some Dumbledore-ish power that he had never encountered before.
Finally Harry spoke34, causing Hermione to gasp35 and jump.
“Are you Bathilda?”
The muffled figure nodded and beckoned again.
Beneath the Cloak Harry and Hermione looked at each other. Harry raised his eyebrows36; Hermione gave a tiny, nervous nod.
They stepped toward the woman and , at once, she turned and hobbled off back the way they had come. Leading them past several houses, she turned in at a gate. They followed her up the front path through a garden nearly as overgrown as the one they had just left. She fumbled37 for a moment with a key at the front door, then opened it and stepped back to let them pass.
She smelled bad, or perhaps it was her house; Harry wrinkled his nose as they sidled past her and pulled off the Cloak. Now that he was beside her, he realized how tiny she was; bowed down with age, she came barely level with his chest. She closed the door behind them, her knuckles38 blue and mottled against the peeling paint, then turned and peered into Harry’s face. Her eyes were thick with cataracts39 and sunken into folds of transparent40 skin, and her whole face was dotted with broken veins41 and liver spots. He wondered whether she could make him out at all; even if she could, it was the balding Muggle whose identity he had stolen that she would see.
The odor of old age, of dust, of unwashed clothes and stale food intensified42 as the unwound a moth-eaten black shawl, revealing a head of scant43 white hair through which the scalp showed clearly.
“Bathilda?” Harry repeated.
She nodded again. Harry became aware of the locket against his skin; the thing inside it that sometimes ticked or beat had woken; he could feel it pulsing through the cold gold. Did it know, could it sense, that the thing that would destroy it was near?
Bathilda shuffled44 past them, pushing Hermione aside as though she had not seen her, and vanished into what seemed to be a sitting room.
“Harry, I’m not sure about this,” breathed Hermione.
“Look at the size of her, I think we could overpower her if we had to,” said Harry. “Listen, I should have told you, I knew she wasn’t all there. Muriel called her ‘gaga.’”
“Come!” called Bathilda from the next room.
Hermione jumped and clutched Harry’s arm.
“It’s okay,” said Harry reassuringly45, and he led the way into the sitting room.
Bathilda was tottering46 around the place lighting47 candles, but it was still very dark, not to mention extremely dirty. Thick dust crunched48 beneath their feet, and Harry’s nose detected, underneath49 the dank and mildewed50 smell, something worse, like meat gone bad. He wondered when was the last time anyone had been inside Bathilda’s house to check whether she was coping. She seemed to have forgotten that she could do magic, too, for she lit the candles clumsily by hand, her trailing lace cuff51 in constant danger of catching52 fire.
“Let me do that,” offered Harry, and he took the matches from her. She stood watching him as he finished lighting the candle stubs that stood on saucers around the room, perched precariously53 on stacks of books and on side tables crammed54 with cracked and moldy55 cups.
The last surface on which Harry spotted56 a candle was a bow-fronted chest of drawers on which there stood a large number of photographs. When the flame danced into life, its reflection wavered on their dusty glass and silver. He saw a few tiny movements from the pictures. As Bathilda fumbled with logs for the fire, he muttered “Tergeo”: The dust vanished from the photographs, and he saw at once that half a dozen were missing from the largest and most ornate frames. He wondered whether Bathilda or somebody else had removed them. Then the sight of a photograph near the back of the collection caught his eye, and he snatched it up.
It was the golden-haired, merry-faced thief, the young man who had perched on Gregorovitch’s windowsill, smiling lazily up at Harry out of the silver frame. And it came to Harry instantly where he had seen the boy before: in The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore, arm in arm with the teenage Dumbledore, and that must be where all the missing photographs were: in Rita’s book.
“Mrs. – Miss – Bagshot?” he said, and his voice shook slightly. “Who is this?”
Bathilda was standing in the middle of the room watching Hermione light the fire for her.
“Miss Bagshot?“ Harry repeated, and he advanced with the picture in his hands as the flames burst into life in the fireplace. Bathilda looked up at his voice, and the Horcrux beat faster upon his chest.
“Who is this person?“ Harry asked her, pushing the picture forward.
She peered at it solemnly, then up at Harry.
“Do you know who this is?” he repeated in a much slower and louder voice than usual. “This man? Do you know him? What’s he called?”
Bathilda merely looked vague. Harry felt an awful frustration57. How had Rita Skeeter unlocked Bathilda’s memories?
“Who is this man?” he repeated loudly.
“Harry, what area you doing?” asked Hermione.
“This picture. Hermione, it’s the thief, the thief who stole from Gregorovitch! Please!” he said to Bathilda. “Who is this?”
But she only stared at him.
“Why did you ask us to come with you, Mrs. – Miss – Bagshot?” asked Hermione, raising her own voice. “Was there something you wanted to tell us?”
Giving no sign that she had heard Hermione, Bathilda now shuffled a few steps closer to Harry. With a little jerk of her head she looked back into the hall.
“You want us to leave?” he asked.
She repeated the gesture, this time pointing firstly at him, then at herself, then at the ceiling.
“Oh, right… Hermione, I think she wants me to go upstairs with her.”
“All right,” said Hermione, “let’s go.”
But when Hermione moved, Bathilda shook her head with surprising vigor32, once more pointing first at Harry, then to herself.
“She wants me to go with her, alone.”
“Why?” asked Hermione, and her voice rang out sharp and clear in the candlelit room, the old lady shook her head a little at the loud noise.
“Maybe Dumbledore told her to give the sword to me, and only to me?”
“Do you really think she knows who you are?”
“Yes,” said Harry, looking down into the milky58 eyes fixed59 upon his own. “I think she does.”
“Well, okay then, but be quick, Harry.”
“Lead the way,” Harry told Bathilda.
She seemed to understand, because she shuffled around him toward the door. Harry glanced back at Hermione with a reassuring smile, but he was not sure she had seen it; she stood hugging herself in the midst of the candlelit squalor, looking toward the bookcase. As Harry walked out of the room, unseen by both Hermione and Bathilda, he slipped the silver-framed photograph of the unknown thief inside his jacket.
The stairs were steep and narrow; Harry was half tempted60 to place his hands on stout28 Bathilda’s backside to ensure that she did not topple over backward on top of him, which seemed only too likely. Slowly, wheezing61 a little, she climbed to the upper landing, turned immediately right, and led him into a low-ceilinged bedroom.
It was pitch-black and smelled horrible: Harry had just made out a chamber62 pot protruding63 from under the bed before Bathilda closed the door and even that was swallowed by the darkness.
“Lumos,” said Harry, and his wand ignited. He gave a start: Bathilda had moved close to him in those few seconds of darkness, and he had not heard her approach.
“You are Potter?” she whispered.
“Yes, I am.”
She nodded slowly, solemnly. Harry felt the Horcrux beating fast, faster than his own heart; It was an unpleasant, agitating64 sensation.
“Have you got anything for me?” Harry asked, but she seemed distracted by his lit wand-tip.
“Have you got anything for me?” he repeated.
Then she closed her eyes and several things happened at once: Harry’s scar prickled painfully; the Horcrux twitched65 so that the front of his sweater actually moved; the dark, fetid room dissolved momentarily. He felt a leap of joy and spoke in a high, cold voice: Hold him!
Harry swayed where he stood: The dark, foul-smelling room seemed to close around him again; he did not know what had just happened.
“Have you got anything for me?” he asked for a third time, much louder.
“Over here,” she whispered, pointing to the corner. Harry raised his wand and saw the outline of a cluttered66 dressing67 table beneath the curtained window.
This time she did not lead him. Harry edged between her and the unmade bed, his wand raised. He did not want to look away from her.
“What is it?” he asked as he reached the dressing table, which was heaped high with what looked and smelled like dirty laundry.
“There,” she said, pointing at the shapeless mass.
And in the instant that he looked away, his eyes taking the tangled68 mess for a sword hilt, a ruby69, she moved weirdly70: He saw it out of the corner of his eye; panic made him turn and horror paralyzed him as he saw the old body collapsing71 and the great snake pouring from the place where her neck had been.
The snake struck as he raised his wand: The force of the bite to his forearm sent the wand spinning up toward the ceiling; its light swung dizzyingly around the room and was extinguished; Then a powerful blow from the tail to his midriff knocked the breath out of him: He fell backward onto the dressing table, into the mound72 of filthy73 clothing –
He rolled sideways, narrowly avoiding the snake’s tail, which thrashed down upon the table where he had been a second earlier. Fragments of the glass surface rained upon him as he hit the floor. From below he heard Hermione call, “Harry?”
He could not get enough breath into his lungs to call back: Then a heavy smooth mass smashed him to the floor and he felt it slide over him, powerful, muscular –
“No!” he gasped74, pinned to the floor.
“Yes,” whispered the voice. “Yesss… hold you… hold you…”
“Accio… Accio Wand…”
But nothing happened and he needed his hands to try to force the snake from him as it coiled itself around his torso, squeezing the air from him, pressing the Horcrux hard into his chest, a circle of ice that throbbed75 with life, inches from his own frantic76 heart, and his brain was flooding with cold, white light, all thought obliterated77, his own breath drowned, distant footsteps, everything going…
A metal heart was banging outside his chest, and now he was flying, flying with triumph in his heart, without need of broomstick or thestral…
He was abruptly78 awake in the sour-smelling darkness; Nagini had released him. He scrambled79 up and saw the snake outlined against the landing light: It struck, and Hermione dived aside with a shriek80; her deflected81 curse hit the curtained window, which shattered. Frozen air filled the room as Harry ducked to avoid another shower of broken glass and his foot slipped on a pencil-like something – his wand –
He bent82 and snatched it up, but now the room was full of the snake, its tail thrashing; Hermione was nowhere to be seen and for a moment Harry thought the worst, but then there was a loud bang and a flash of red light, and the snake flew into the air, smacking83 Harry hard in the face as it went, coil after heavy coil rising up to the ceiling. Harry raised his wand, but as he did so, his scar seared more painfully, more powerfully than it had done in years.
“He’s coming! Hermione, he’s coming!”
As he yelled the snake fell, hissing84 wildly. Everything was chaos85: It smashed shelves from the wall, and splintered china flew everywhere as Harry jumped over the bed and seized the dark shape he knew to be Hermione –
She shrieked86 with pain as he pulled her back across the bed: The snake reared again, but Harry knew that worse than the snake was coming, was perhaps already at the gate, his head was going to split open with the pain from his scar –
The snake lunged as he took a running leap, dragging Hermione with him; as it struck, Hermione screamed, “Confringo!” and her spell flew around the room, exploding the wardrobe mirror and ricocheting back at them, bouncing from floor to ceiling; Harry felt the heat of it sear the back of his hand. Glass cut his cheek as, pulling Hermione with him, he leapt from bed to broken dressing table and then straight out of the smashed window into nothingness, her scream reverberating87 through the night as they twisted in midair…
And then his scar burst open and he was Voldemort and he was running across the fetid bedroom, his long white hands clutching at the windowsill as he glimpsed the bald man and the little woman twist and vanish, and he screamed with rage, a scream that mingled88 with the girl’s, that echoed across the dark gardens over the church bells ringing in Christmas Day…
And his scream was Harry’s scream, his pain was Harry’s pain… that it could happen here, where it had happened before… here, within sight of that house where he had come so close to knowing what it was to die… to die… the pain was so terrible… ripped from his body… But if he had no body, why did his head hurt so badly; if he was dead, how cold he feel so unbearably89, didn’t pain cease with death, didn’t it go…
The night wet and windy, two children dressed as pumpkins90 waddling91 across the square and the shop windows covered in paper spiders, all the tawdry Muggle trappings of a world in which they did not believe… And he was gliding92 along, that sense of purpose and power and rightness in him that he always knew on these occasions… Not anger… that was for weaker souls than he… but triumph, yes… He had waited for this, he had hoped for it…
“Nice costume, mister!”
He saw the small boy’s smile falter93 as he ran near enough to see beneath the hood94 of the cloak, saw the fear cloud his pained face: Then the child turned and ran away… Beneath the robe he fingered the handle of his wand… One simple movement and the child would never reach his mother… but unnecessary, quite unnecessary…
And along a new and darker street he moved, and now his destination was in sight at last, the Fidelius Charm broken, though they did not know it yet… And he made less noise than the dead leaves slithering along the pavement as he drew level with the dark hedge, and steered95 over it…
They had not drawn96 the curtains; he saw them quite clearly in their little sitting room, the tall black-haired man in his glasses, making puffs97 of colored smoke erupt from his wand for the amusement of the small black-haired boy in his blue pajamas98. The child was laughing and trying to catch the smoke, to grab it in his small fist…
A door opened and the mother entered, saying words he cold not hear, her long dark-red hair falling over her face. Now the father scooped99 up the son and handed him to the mother. He threw his wand down upon the sofa and stretched, yawning…
The gate creaked a little as he pushed it open, but James Potter did not hear. His white hand pulled out the wand beneath his cloak and pointed it at the door, which burst open…
He was over the threshold as James came sprinting100 into the hall. It was easy, too easy, he had not even picked up his wand…
“Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off!”
Hold him off, without a wand in his hand!… He laughed before casting the curse…
“Avada Kedavra!”
The green light filled the cramped101 hallway, it lit the pram102 pushed against the wall, it made the banisters glow like lighting rods, and James Potter fell like a marionette103 whose strings104 were cut…
He could hear her screaming from the upper floor, trapped, but as long as she was sensible, she, at least, had nothing to fear… He climbed the steps, listening with faint amusement to her attempts to barricade105 herself in… She had no wand upon her either… How stupid they were, and how trusting, thinking that their safety lay in friends, that weapons could be discarded even for moments…
He forced the door open, cast aside the chair and boxes hastily piled against it with one lazy wave of his wand… and there she stood, the child in her arms. At the sight of him, she dropped her son into the crib behind her and threw her arms wide, as if this would help, as if in shielding him from sight she hoped to be chosen instead…
“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!”
“Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside, now.”
“Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead –”
“This is my last warning –”
“Not Harry! Please… have mercy… have mercy… Not Harry! Not Harry! Please – I’ll do anything…”
“Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!”
He could have forced her away from the crib, but it seemed more prudent106 to finish them all…
The green light flashed around the room and she dropped like her husband. The child had not cried all this time. He could stand, clutching the bars of his crib, and he looked up into the intruder’s face with a kind of bright interest, perhaps thinking that it was his father who hid beneath the cloak, making more pretty lights, and his mother would pop up any moment, laughing –
He pointed the wand very carefully into the boy’s face: He wanted to see it happen, the destruction of this one, inexplicable107 danger. The child began to cry: It had seen that he was not James. He did not like it crying, he had never been able to stomach the small ones whining108 in the orphanage109 –
“Avada Kedavra!”
And then he broke. He was nothing, nothing but pain and terror, and he must hide himself, not here in the rubble of the ruined house, where the child was trapped screaming, but far away… far away…
“No,” he moaned.
The snake rustled110 on the filthy, cluttered floor, and he had killed the boy, and yet he was the boy…
“No…”
And now he stood at the broken window of Bathilda’s house, immersed in memories of his greatest loss, and at his feet the great snake slithered over broken china and glass… He looked down and saw something… something incredible…
“No…”
“Harry, it’s all right, you’re all right!”
He stooped down and picked up the smashed photograph. There he was, the unknown thief, the thief he was seeking…
“No… I dropped it… I dropped it…”
“Harry, it’s okay, wake up, wake up!”
He was Harry… Harry, not Voldemort… and the thing that was rustling111 was not a snake… He opened his eyes.
“Harry,” Hermione whispered. “Do you feel all – all right?”
“Yes,” he lied.
He was in the tent, lying on one of the lower bunks113 beneath a heap of blankets. He could tell that it was almost dawn by the stillness and quality of the cold, flat light beyond the canvas ceiling. He was drenched114 in sweat; he could feel it on the sheets and blankets.
“We got away.”
“Yes,” said Hermione. “I had to use a Hover115 Charm to get you into your bunk112. I couldn’t lift you. You’ve been… Well, you haven’t been quite…”
There were purple shadows under her brown eyes and he noticed a small sponge in her hand: She had been wiping his face.
“You’ve been ill,” she finished. “Quite ill.”
“How long ago did we leave?”
“Hours ago. It’s nearly morning.”
“And I’ve been… what, unconscious?”
“Not exactly,“ said Hermione uncomfortably. ”You’ve been shouting and moaning and… things,“ she added in a tone that made Harry feel uneasy. What had he done? Screamed curses like Voldemort, cried like the baby in the crib?
“I couldn’t get the Horcrux off you,” Hermione said, and he knew she wanted to change the subject. “It was stuck, stuck to your chest. You’ve got a mark; I’m sorry, I had to use a Severing116 Charm to get it away. The snake hit you too, but I’ve cleaned the wound and put some dittany on it…”
He pulled the sweaty T-shirt he was wearing away from himself and looked down. There was a scarlet117 oval over his heart where the locket had burned him. He could also see the half healed puncture118 marks to his forearm.
“Where’ve you put the Horcrux?”
“In my bag. I think we should keep it off for a while.”
He lay back on his pillows and looked into her pinched gray face.
“We shouldn’t have gone to Godric’s Hollow. It’s my fault, it’s all my fault. Hermione, I’m sorry.“
“It’s not you fault. I wanted to go too; I really thought Dumbledore might have left the sword there for you.“
“Yeah, well… we got that wrong, didn’t we?”
“What happened, Harry? What happened when she took you upstairs? Was the snake hiding somewhere? Did it just come out and kill her and attack you?“
“No.” he said. “She was the snake… or the snake was her… all along.”
“W-what?”
He closed his eyes. He could still smell Bathilda’s house on him; it made the whole thing horribly vivid.
“Bathilda must’ve been dead a while. The snake was… was inside her. You-Know-Who put it there in Godric’s Hollow, to wait. You were right. He knew I’d go back.“
“The snake was inside her?”
He opened his eyes again. Hermione looked revolted, nauseated119.
“Lupin said there would be magic we’d never imagined.“ Harry said. ”She didn’t want to talk in front of you, because it was Parseltongue, all Parseltongue, and I didn’t realize, but of course I could understand her. Once we were up in the room, the snake sent a message to You-Know-Who, I heard it happen inside my head, I felt him get excited, he said to keep me there… and then…“
He remembered the snake coming out of Bathilda’s neck: Hermione did not need to know the details.
“…she changed, changed into the snake, and attacked.”
He looked down at the puncture marks.
“It wasn’t supposed to kill me, just keep me there till You-Know-Who came.”
If he had only managed to kill the snake, it would have been worth it, all of it… Sick at heart, he sat up and threw back the covers.
“Harry, no, I’m sure you ought to rest!”
“You’re the one who needs sleep. No offense120, but you look terrible. I’m fine. I’ll keep watch for a while. Where’s my wand?“
She did not answer, she merely looked at him.
“Where’s my wand, Hermione?”
She was biting her lip, and tears swam in her eyes.
“Harry…”
“Where’s my wand?”
She reached down beside the bed and held it out to him.
The holly121 and phoenix122 wand was nearly severed123 in two. One fragile strand124 of phoenix feather kept both pieces hanging together. The wood had splintered apart completely. Harry took it into his hands as though it was a living thing that had suffered a terrible injury. He could not think properly: Everything was a blur125 of panic and fear. Then he held out the want to Hermione.
“Mend it. Please.”
“Harry, I don’t think, when it’s broken like this –”
“Please, Hermione, try!”
“R-Reparo.”
The dangling126 half of the wand resealed itself. Harry held it up.
“Lumos!”
The wand sparked feebly, then went out. Harry pointed it at Hermione.
“Expelliarmus!”
Hermione’s wand gave a little jerk, but did not leave her hand. The feeble attempt at magic was too much for Harry’s wand, which split into two again. He stared at it, aghast, unable to take in what he was seeing… the wand that had survived so much…
“Harry.” Hermione whispered so quietly he could hardly hear her. “I’m so, so sorry. I think it was me. As we were leaving, you know, the snake was coming for us, and so I cast a Blasting Curse, and it rebounded127 everywhere, and it must have – must have hit –”
“It was an accident.” said Harry mechanically. He felt empty, stunned128. “We’ll – we’ll find a way to repair it.”
“Harry, I don’t think we’re going to be able to,” said Hermione, the ears trickling129 down her face. “Remember… remember Ron? When he broke his wand, crashing the car? It was never the same again, he had to get a new one.”
Harry thought of Ollivander, kidnapped and held hostage by Voldemort; of Gregorovitch, who was dead. How was he supposed to find himself a new wand?
“Well,” he said, in a falsely matter-of-fact voice, “well, I’ll just borrow yours for now, then. While I keep watch.”
Her face glazed130 with tears, Hermione handed over her wand, and he left her sitting beside his bed, desiring nothing more than to get away from her.
当他们刚刚走到陌生人艾博的坟墓旁边时，赫敏突然说：“哈利，停下。”
“怎么了？”
“那边有人在监视我们，我能肯定，就在灌木丛后面。”
他们静静地站在原地，紧握彼此的手，凝视着浓黑的墓地边界，哈利什么都没看见。
“你确定吗？”
“我看见了什么东西在动。我发誓我看到了……”
她把拿着魔杖的手从哈利的手中挣开。
“我们现在看起来像是麻瓜，”哈利说。
“麻瓜会在你父母的坟墓前献花？哈利，我确定那边有人！”
哈利想起了《魔法史》里说，墓地时常会闹鬼，如果真是那样……但是接着他听到了一阵灌木丛的沙沙声，看到赫敏指的那片灌木丛几片雪花旋转着飘落。鬼魂是没法移动雪花的。
“是只猫。”哈利说，过了一两秒，又说，“或者是只鸟。如果那是个食死徒，我们刚才就已经死了。还是离开这里吧，我们可以再把隐形衣穿上。”
他们离开墓地时还是不时地回头扫几眼。哈利觉得自己没有劝赫敏放心时那么乐观，他很高兴走到了门口，回到湿滑的人行道上。他们把隐形衣脱了下来。
小酒馆比以往热闹的多，里面有许多人唱着他们在教堂里听过的颂歌。哈利考虑了一下是否提出建议在酒馆里躲避一下，他还没说出口，赫敏就低声说道：“我们走这条路。”然后拉着哈利朝着来时相反的方向，走向了通往村子外面的那条阴沉沉的街道。哈利看到身边的房屋逐渐稀少，狭窄的小路重新开阔起来。他们飞快的向前行走，经过一扇扇闪耀着彩色光芒的，透出圣诞树轮廓的窗户。
“我们要怎样才能找到巴希达的房子？”，赫敏问道，她有点打哆嗦，不时地朝身后看去。“哈利？你是怎么想的？哈利？”
她拽了拽他的胳膊，但是哈利没有理会她，他看着小路尽头的那一大片废墟，突然，他拉起赫敏飞快的向那里跑去，赫敏在冰上差点摔倒。
“哈利……”
“看，快看，赫敏……”
“我没有……噢！”
他看到了，赤胆忠心魔咒一定是随着詹姆和莉莉的死亡一起失效了。自从16年前海格把哈利从齐腰深的草从中的碎石堆里救出来到现在，篱笆由于无人照管，已经长得很野了。房屋的大部分还完好，虽然都被阴暗的常春藤和雪完全覆盖了，顶层的右侧被炸毁了，那里，哈利肯定，就是魔咒爆炸的地方。他和赫敏站在大门前，盯着那幢原本应该像刚才他们经过的房屋一样的建筑，现在它只剩下了残骸。
“我想知道为什么没有人把这里重修一下。”赫敏低声说。
“也许是不能够重修，”哈利回答。“就像黑魔法带来的伤害一样，没有办法弥补？”
他在隐形衣下伸出手，抓住被雪覆盖的锈迹斑斑的大门，他并不想打开，只是希望自己能变成房子的一部分。
“不要进去吧？它看起来不安全，它可能……噢，哈利，看！”
他与大门的接触似乎带来了一些变化。一个木制的标志牌，从他们面前那乱蓬蓬的荨麻和野草中冒了出来，上面用金色的字母写着：
就在这里，在1981年10月31日的晚上
莉莉和詹姆·波特失去生命
他们的儿子，哈利， 成为唯一的
逃脱了死咒的巫师
这所麻瓜看不见的房子
就保持了废墟的样子
作为波特夫妇的纪念碑
和一个对于拆散他们家庭的暴力的警钟
在这些整洁的文字周围，来见证大难不死的男孩的巫师们潦草地写下了他们的话。一些人用永不褪色墨水简单地写下了自己的名字，一些人把自己姓名的首字母刻进了木头，还有一些人写了简短的留言。不管是看上去几天前留下的字迹，还是十六年前暗淡的笔墨，所有的人说的话都是一个意思：
祝你好运，哈利，无论你在哪。
当你读到这个，哈利，我们都在你身后！
哈利波特万岁。
“他们不应该在标志上写字！”赫敏义愤填膺地说。
但是哈利朝她笑了笑：“这棒极了。我很高兴他们这样做了。我……”
他突然顿住了。一个穿得很厚重的人慢慢地从小街向他们走来，远处广场上明亮的灯光让人看不清他那黑黑的轮廓。尽管很困难，但哈利看出那是个女人。她走得很慢，或许是怕在雪上滑到。她那佝偻的背，坚毅的样子，她拖着脚走路的疲态
，让人感觉到她年纪非常老
。他们沉默着看她走近。哈利想看看她是否会走进某间房屋，但是他心里很清楚地知道她不会走进任何一间房子。终于，她在他们前面几米处停下，站在冰冻的马路中间，看着他们。
他不需要赫敏掐他的手臂也能明白过来，这个女人不可能是麻瓜。她正站在那里看着一所麻瓜根本看不见的房子。而且，有一点更确认了她是个女巫，因为在这样一个寒冷的夜晚出来，仅仅为了看一幢古老的、已成为废墟的房子，这实在是太古怪了。而且，按照魔法规则，她应该看不见赫敏和哈利。然而哈利有种特别奇怪的感觉，他觉得她知道他们在那里，也知道他们是谁。正当哈利得出了这个令人不安的结论时，那个女人举起了一只带手套的手，打了个手势。
赫敏在隐形衣下向哈利靠近了一些，她紧握住哈利的手臂：“她是怎么知道的？”
他摇了摇头。那个女人又更加用力地挥着手。哈利可以想到一大堆不理会她的理由，他和她在这样的无人街道上对视，对她身份的怀疑也随着时间一分一秒地增长。
她会不会在这长长的几个月里一直在等待他们？邓布利多会不会让她等着他们，告诉她哈利最终会来？她是不是在暗处从墓地一直跟踪他们到了这里？她看的到他们，这让哈利感觉到了他从没遇到的邓布利多式的能量。
最后哈利突然说话了，把赫敏吓了一跳。
“你是巴希达吗？”
这个穿着厚重的人点了一下头，又挥了挥手。
哈利和赫敏在隐型衣下对视了一眼，哈利扬起眉毛，赫敏紧张地微微点了点头。
他们朝那个女人走去，她马上蹒跚地沿着来的路往回走，带领他们走过几幢房屋，进入了一扇大门。他们跟着她顺着前面的小路，穿过一个和刚才的废墟差不多的枝枝蔓蔓的花园。她站在门前摸索了一会，掏出房门钥匙，开了门，向旁边退了一步让他们进去。
她身上的气味很难闻，不过也许是这房子里的气味。哈利经过她身边时皱了皱鼻子，然后脱下了隐形衣。他站到她的旁边时才知道她是多么的矮小。由于年老驼背，她几乎只到哈利胸膛那么高。她关上身后的门，她的指节是蓝色的，皮肤上斑斑点点，像是剥落的油漆，然后她眯起眼睛看着哈利的脸。那双眼睛由于白内障而十分混浊，深深地陷入了满是皱纹的几乎透明的皮肤里，她的整张脸都透出了皮肤下面的静脉和黄褐色的老年斑。哈利怀疑她根本认不出自己；即使她能，看到的也是哈利伪装成的那个秃头的麻瓜。
她把虫蛀的披肩解下来，露出了白发稀疏的头顶，年老的气味、灰尘的气味、脏衣服的气味、还有变质食物的气味变得更剧烈了。
“巴希达？”哈利再次问道。
她又点了点头。哈利感觉到贴在他皮肤上的挂坠盒。那里面的时而发出滴答声时而发出敲打声的东西已经被唤醒，他可以感觉的到它透过冰冷的黄金在振动。难道它知道，难道它可以感觉的到，附近存在什么可以毁灭它的东西？
巴希达拖着脚步穿过他们俩，像是没看到赫敏似的把她推到一边，走进一间貌似起居室的房间里去了。
“哈利，我不太确定现在的状况是怎样。”赫敏轻声说着。
“看她那副样子，万一有什么事情，我想我们也可以击败她。”哈利说着。“我告诉你，她不该是这个样子的，穆里尔说她很狂热，……”。
“过来!”巴希达在隔壁的房间里大叫。
赫敏跳了起来，一把抓住哈利的胳膊。
“没事的，”哈利安慰她，他带着她走进休息室。
巴希达在烛光闪烁的房间里蹒跚着，光线依旧很暗，屋子里肮脏至极。厚重的灰尘在他们脚下嘎嘎作响，在这潮湿发霉的气味下面，哈利闻到了一些更为糟糕的味道，像是腐烂变质的肉所散发出来的。他不知道已经多久没人来过巴希达的家，看她是不是还在这儿了。她似乎已经忘记她也能够施展魔法。因为她用手笨拙的点着蜡烛，袖口的带子随时会被不小心点着。
“让我来吧。”哈利说道，然后他从她手中取下火柴。巴希达看着哈利点燃了放置在房间各个浅盘里的蜡烛根儿，这些蜡烛放在摇摇晃晃的放在成堆的书上和一个摆满了破碎发霉的杯子的桌子的边上。
在哈利点到最后一根蜡烛的时候，他看到那根蜡烛处在一个弧形表面的盒子上面，里面存有许多照片。当烛光闪烁的时候，它的光芒摇曳的照在那些布满灰尘的玻璃和银器上。哈利看到了那些照片里面的场景在晃动。在巴希达借着火光摸索前进的时候，哈利小声念了一句"旋风扫净"，那些照片上的灰尘立刻消失了，他看到了其中六个最大最华丽的框架中的照片已经不在了，不知道是巴希达还是别的什么人拿走了它们。这堆照片的最底下的一张吸引了哈利的目光，他拿起来看了看：
是那个当初坐在格里戈维奇的窗台上，金色头发，神态愉悦的小偷，他从银质的框架里懒洋洋的看着哈利，哈利立刻想起曾经见过这个男孩——在丽塔的《阿不思·邓布利多的一生与谎言》那本书中夹着的照片上！他就是那个与邓布利多挽着手的年轻人！
“巴沙特……夫人……小姐？”他说，他的声音轻微的颤抖，“这是谁？”
巴希达正站在房间的中间看着赫敏为她点燃火把。
“巴沙特小姐？”哈利又喊了一遍，他拿着照片走到巴希达的身边，壁炉里的火焰燃烧起来了，巴希达听到他的声音抬起头来，魂器在哈利的胸前更加剧烈的敲击着。
“这人是谁？”哈利举着照片问她。
她庄重地凝视着照片，然后再凝视着哈利。
“你知不知道这人是谁？”他用比平常更慢更响的声音又重复了一遍。“就是这个人，你知道他是谁吗？他叫什么名字？”
巴希达看起来很茫然，哈利觉得很沮丧。丽塔·斯基特是怎么打开巴希达的记忆的？
“这人是谁？” 他大声说。
“哈利，你在干什么？”赫敏问道。
“赫敏，这张照片，就是那个偷了格里戈维奇东西的贼！求求你了，”他又对巴希达说，“他到底是谁？”
但巴希达只是瞪着眼睛看着他。
“为什么让我们跟你到这儿来，巴沙特夫人……小姐？”赫敏提高声音问道，“你想告诉我们什么事情吗？”
可巴希达似乎根本没有听见赫敏讲的话，她拖着脚步走近哈利，然后猛一转头向大厅回望过去。
“你希望我们离开？”他问道。
她把动作重复了一遍，但这次是先指着哈利，再指着自己，最后指着天花板。
“好吧……赫敏，我想她希望我们跟她上楼。”
“好，”赫敏回答，“我们走。”
但是赫敏刚迈开脚步，巴希达就拼命地摇着头，再次指着哈利，然后指着自己。
“她希望我单独跟她去。”
“为什么？”赫敏大声问道，她的声音在烛光闪耀的房间内显得尖锐而清晰，巴希达轻轻摇头。
“也许邓布利多让她把剑给我，而且只给我？”
“你认为她真的知道你是谁？”
“是的，”哈利说，与巴希达那双混浊的眼睛对视着。
“那好，但是快一点，哈利。”
“带路吧，”哈利对巴希达说。
她看起来听懂了，因为她颤巍巍地带着哈利向门走去。哈利回头对赫敏笑了笑，让她放心，但他不知道她有没有看见。赫敏抱着手臂站在烛光下脏兮兮的房间中，看着书橱。哈利走出房间，趁赫敏和巴希达都没注意的时候，把那个小偷的银框相片放进了口袋。
狭窄的楼梯坡度很陡，哈利向前半伸着手，以防巴希达从他上面跌倒，那看起来确实很有可能。她有些气喘，慢慢走到了楼上，左拐，带哈利进入一个天花板很低的房间。
房间黑黑的，气味也糟透了。哈利刚看出床下伸出来是一只夜壶，巴希达就关上门，他们陷入一片黑暗。
“荧光闪烁。”哈里说道，他的魔杖发出光亮的瞬间，哈利被面前的巴希达吓了一跳，就在那黑暗的几秒钟里，巴希达走到了他身旁，而哈利并没听见她走过来。
“你是波特？”她低声问。
“对，我是。”
她缓慢地点了点头，显得很庄重。哈利感到魂器敲击得更快了，比他的心脏还要快，感觉像一阵令人不快的骚动。
“你有什么东西要给我吗？”哈利问道，但她好像被哈利发光的魔杖分散了注意力。
“你有什么东西要给我吗？”哈利又问了一遍。
巴希达闭上眼睛，就在那个时刻，几件事情同时发生了：哈利的伤疤如针扎般的疼了起来；魂器猛烈地跳动着，使得哈利的胸前的毛衣跟着起伏；黑暗发臭的房间突然从眼前消失。他感到强烈的兴奋，用很高的音调冷酷的声音说道：抓住他！
哈利摇晃着站在原地，黑暗发臭的房间又一次出现在他的身边，他不知道刚才发生了什么事情。
“你有什么要给我吗？”哈利第三次问道，声音提高了许多。
“就在那边，”她轻声说，手指着拐角。哈利举起他的魔杖，看见拉着窗帘的窗户下面有张乱糟糟地堆满衣服的桌子。
这次她没再带他过去。哈利举着魔杖，侧身从巴希达和床之间走过去。他不希望巴希达离开自己的视线。
“在哪里？”他摸着那张桌子问道，桌子上堆满了像是脏衣服一样的东西。
“那里，”她指着那堆乱七八糟的破烂说道。
就在他转过头，想要在那堆破烂里面找到一把镶了红宝石的剑的时候，哈利的余光看到巴希达怪异的发生了变化，他惊慌地转过身，恐惧几乎让他瘫痪：他看见那个年老的身体瘫在地上，一条巨大的蛇在刚才她脖子的地方晃动着。
他刚扬起魔杖就被蛇一口咬住，这前臂上强有力的一咬使他的魔杖脱手飞向了天花板。旋转的魔杖发出光芒照得房间让人头晕目眩，然后光熄灭了。蛇尾猛地扫过他的腹部，几乎让他无法呼吸。他向后跌倒在堆满衣服的桌子上，一头栽在肮脏的衣服里面……
哈利在桌上向旁边一滚，勉强地躲过了再次刷过来的蛇尾，当他着地时，玻璃碎片像下雨一样劈头盖脸地落下。他听到楼下的赫敏大叫道：“哈利？”
没时间吸入足够的空气去回答赫敏的喊声了，一条又重又滑的东西把他撞到地板上，从他的身体上有力地滑过……“不！”他喘着气说，感觉自己被固定在了地板上。
“很好，”那个声音小声地说，“很好……抓住你……抓住你……”
“魔杖……魔杖飞来……”
但是什么事情也没有发生，他只能用手来努力阻止那条蛇在他身体上越捆越紧，肺部的空气都快被挤出来了，魂器深深地陷入了他的胸膛，一条冰冷的、蠕动的东西离他的心脏只有几英寸远，他脑子里满是寒冷的白光，所有的意识都湮灭了，他的呼吸渐渐微弱下来，只听见远处的脚步声，一切都在离他远去……
金属的心脏在他胸膛外面砰砰作响，他觉得内心中一阵狂喜，他在飞翔，不需要飞天扫帚或者夜骐……
他突然醒了，周围仍旧是一片黑暗，不过闻起来酸酸的。纳吉尼已经松开了他。他挣扎着爬起，凭借楼下的微光看到蛇正要袭击赫敏。赫敏一声尖叫猛跳到一旁，她的粉碎咒击中了拉着窗帘的窗子，窗子立刻被击成碎片，外面寒冷的空气马上充斥着屋内。哈利赶紧矮身躲避这又一阵玻璃渣的袭来，他的脚下一滑，像是踩到了铅笔一样的东西……是他的魔杖……
他弯腰捡起魔杖，那条蛇正在用尾巴抽打着房间的各个地方。看不到赫敏在哪里，哈利不由得想到了最坏的结果。然而突然随着一声巨响，一道红光闪过，蛇飞了起来，剧烈的击中了哈利的脸，然后一圈圈盘绕着向天花板飞去。哈利举起魔杖，就在那时，他的伤疤开始剧烈疼痛，比以前这么多年的任何一次都要疼痛。
“他来了！赫敏，他来了！”
他大叫叫喊的时候，那条蛇落了下来，一边发出疯狂的咝咝声，一边撞倒了靠墙的架子，碎瓷片飞得到处都是，一切都乱成一团。哈利跳到床上，紧紧抓住那团黑色的阴影，他知道那是赫敏。
哈利把赫敏从床上拽过来，赫敏疼痛的尖叫着，而那条蛇又一次直起身子，哈利知道，比蛇更可怕的东西就要来了，也许已经到了门外，他的头疼的快要从伤疤处炸开了。
哈利拖着赫敏连跑带跳地躲开，蛇发出响亮的声音，又要袭击他们。赫敏尖叫道：“障碍重重！”她的咒语飞过房间，把大衣橱的试衣镜炸开了花，碎片在他们身后飞舞着。哈利感觉热浪烤焦了他的手背，碎片割伤了他的脸颊，他拉着赫敏从床上跳到了那张坏了的桌子上，然后直接跳出了没玻璃的窗子。他们在半空中时，还能听见赫敏的尖叫在夜色中回响……
然后他的伤疤几欲炸开，他就是伏地魔，他跑过那个发臭的房间，他用修长白皙的手紧抓着窗台，他看到那个秃顶的男人和那个瘦小的女人扭曲着身体然后在他眼前消失，他狂怒地尖叫，声音和女孩的尖叫声混杂在一起，划过黑暗的花园，盖过圣诞节教堂的钟声……
他的尖叫声就是哈利的尖叫声，他的疼痛就是哈利的疼痛……就在这里，就在以前发生过那件事情的地方……在这里，眼前的那所房子，就是在这里他差一点就知道了死亡是什么样子……死亡……疼得太厉害了……撕开了他的身体……但是如果他没有身体，为什么他的头会这样要命地疼？如果他死了，他怎么还能感到难以忍受的疼痛，难道这痛苦并不随着死亡离去，不会离去……
夜晚潮湿又多风，两个装扮成南瓜的孩子摇摇晃晃地穿过广场，商店的窗户装饰着纸做的蜘蛛，俗艳的麻瓜饰品……
他慢慢地向前走着，感到一个历史性的时刻即将到来--一个与未来、权利、欲望息息相关的伟大时刻。没有愤怒，因愤怒是为弱者而生；他只有抑制不住的狂喜……是的……他已经等得太久，盼得太久了……
“先生，你的衣服真漂亮！”
一个小男孩跑到他身边，当他看见兜帽下那张被恐惧和疼痛笼罩的脸时，小男孩的笑容消失了，他飞快转身跑走了。……他的手指在袍子下面抚摸着魔杖……一个简单的动作便能让那个孩子再也见不到他的母亲……但是没必要，十分没必要……
他走到另一条更阴暗的街上，看见了他的目的地，赤胆忠心咒已经失效了，而他们还不知道呢……他的动作比落叶在人行道上滑动的声音还要轻，他走向黑黑的篱笆,然后跨了过去……
窗帘没有拉上，他清楚地看到他们在小客厅里，那个高个子的黑发男人戴着眼镜，手中的魔杖顶端冒出一团团彩色的烟雾，穿着蓝色睡衣的黑发小男孩被逗乐了，那孩子笑着想要用自己的小拳头抓住烟雾……
房门开了，男孩的母亲走了进来，他听不到她说了什么，她深红色的长发披在脸上，父亲把孩子抱给母亲，然后把魔杖扔到沙发上，一边伸个懒腰一边打个哈欠。
他把大门推开了一道缝，但是詹姆·波特没听到，他苍白的手在斗篷下取出魔杖，直指着门，门猛地开了……
他踏过门槛，詹姆急速冲到大厅。这很简单，太简单了，他甚至连魔杖都没拿……
“莉莉，带上哈利快逃！他来了！逃！快跑！我来拖住他！”
拖住他？手里连魔杖都没有还想拖住他！……
他笑了，然后说道：“阿瓦达索命！”
绿光照亮了狭窄的大厅走廊，照亮了婴儿车，把它推到了墙边，楼梯栏杆在绿光映照下像被点燃的木杖一样闪亮，詹姆·波特如同断线的木偶般倒下去……
他听见楼下女人的尖叫，已经被困住了,但是只要她还清醒，她就无所畏惧……他走上台阶，看戏一般的看着她试图保护自己……她手中也没有魔杖……多蠢啊，多信赖别人啊，觉得自己的安全十分保险地放在朋友那里，安全到魔杖都可以扔在一边……
他强行打开门，懒散地挥了一下魔杖，堆在门口的椅子和箱子都被清理掉了……她就抱着孩子站在那边。一看到他，她就把儿子放在身后的婴儿小床里，伸出双手拦在前面，好像这样就能管用似的，好像她挡在前面就可以代替哈利……
“别动哈利，别动哈利，请别动哈利！”
“一边儿去，你这愚蠢的女人……一边儿去，现在。”
“别动哈利，请不要，杀了我，杀了我代替他——”
“这是我最后一次警告——”
“别动哈利！求求你……发发慈悲……发发慈悲……别动哈利！别动哈利！求你了……我可以做任何事情……”
“站一边去！站一边去，你这女人！”
他本可以让她从婴儿床前面滚开，但是看起来一起惩罚他们似乎更方便……
房间里绿光闪耀，她像她丈夫一样倒下了。孩子一直都没有哭，他站了起来，紧紧抓着婴儿床的围栏，很有兴趣地看着入侵者的脸。也许他以为斗篷下面的是他爸爸，正准备给他弄点更漂亮的灯光，而他的妈妈随时都可能笑着出现……
他非常小心地把魔杖对准小男孩的脸。他想要亲眼看事情的发生，想要看到这个难以解释的危险人物的毁灭。孩子开始大哭起来，他看清了这人不是詹姆。他不喜欢那孩子哭，他在孤儿院时从来都不能容忍那些小东西们的哭哭啼啼……
“阿瓦达索命！”
然后他完全崩溃了。他变得什么也不是，只剩下剧痛和恐惧，他必须要把自己藏起来，不能待在这个有小孩子拼命啼哭的破房子里，要远一点……很远很远的地方……
“不，”他呻吟道。
蛇在脏乱不堪的地板上沙沙爬行，他杀了这个男孩，然而他自己就是这个男孩……
“不……”
现在他站在巴希达家的破窗子旁，沉浸在他极为挫败的记忆中。在他脚边，大蛇沙沙地爬过瓷器碎片和玻璃碎片……他朝下方看去，看见了难以致信的东西……
“不……”
“哈利，都没事了，你没事了！”
他俯身拾起摔坏的相框，就是这个！那个小偷！他一直在找的那个人……
“不……我把它掉在地上了……我把它掉在地上了……”
“哈利，没事了，醒醒，快醒醒！”
他是哈利……哈利，不是伏地魔……在他脚边沙沙响的也不是蛇……
他睁开了眼睛。
“哈利，”赫敏轻声说。“你感觉……还好吗？”
“是的，”他撒谎道。
他在帐篷里，躺在下铺上，盖着一堆毯子。他从周围的静谧中，以及帆布帐篷顶部透出的光线中判断出现在已经几乎是黎明了。他全身都是汗，连床单和毯子上也有汗。
“我们逃出来了。”
“是的，”赫敏说。“我用了悬停魔咒来把你放到床铺上。我没法抱起你，因为你刚才……嗯，你刚才非常……”
她棕色的眼睛下面有了紫色的阴影，而且他注意到她手里拿着一块海绵，原来她刚才一直在替他擦脸。
“你刚才病了，”她把话说完。“病得很厉害。”
“我们什么时候离开那里的？”
“几个小时之前，现在快到早上了。”
“我刚才是不是……神志不清？”
“不完全是，”赫敏困难地说，“你一直在大喊大叫或者呻吟或者……”她说话的口吻让哈利觉得十分不安。他刚才做了什么？像伏地魔一样尖声喊出咒语，还是像婴儿车里的婴儿一样嚎哭？
“我没法把魂器从你身上解下来，”赫敏说道。哈利知道她想换个话题。“它紧紧粘在你的胸前，因此我只好用切割咒把它切下来了，你身上留下了一块印记，对不起。蛇也咬了你，不过我已经清理了伤口并且涂了一些苦牛至（草药名）……”
他脱下了汗湿透的T恤衫，然后低头看了看。挂坠盒灼烧的地方留下了一块猩红色的卵形印记。哈利也看到了前臂上蛇的牙齿刺穿的伤口好了些了。
“你把魂器放在哪里了？”
“在我包里。我想我们这一段时间别再碰它了。”
他躺回到枕头上看着赫敏痛苦灰暗的脸。
“我们不该去高锥克山谷的，是我的错，全是我的错。赫敏，对不起。”
“不是你的错。我也想去的。我真的以为邓布利多已经把剑放在那儿给你了。
“是啊，嗯……我们理解错了，是不是？“
“哈利，发生了什么事？她把你带上楼梯后发生了什么事？蛇是不是藏在什么地方？它是不是马上出来咬死了她然后袭击你？”
“不。”哈利回答。“她就是那条蛇……或者说蛇就是她……都一样。”
“什……什么？”
他闭上了眼睛。他仍然可以在自己身上闻到巴希达的房子的气味，这让整个事情清晰得恐怖。
“巴希达一定是
收听单词发音 |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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eddy
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| n.漩涡，涡流 | |
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sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rubble
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| n.（一堆）碎石，瓦砾 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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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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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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rusted
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| v.（使）生锈( rust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tangles
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| （使）缠结， （使）乱作一团( tangle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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nettles
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| n.荨麻( nettle的名词复数 ) | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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scribbles
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| n.潦草的书写( scribble的名词复数 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下v.潦草的书写( scribble的第三人称单数 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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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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silhouetted
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| 显出轮廓的，显示影像的 | |
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stoutness
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| 坚固，刚毅 | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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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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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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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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cataracts
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| n.大瀑布( cataract的名词复数 )；白内障 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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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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intensified
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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44
shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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tottering
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| adj.蹒跚的，动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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48
crunched
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的过去式和过去分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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49
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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50
mildewed
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| adj.发了霉的，陈腐的，长了霉花的v.（使）发霉，（使）长霉( mildew的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
cuff
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| n.袖口；手铐；护腕；vt.用手铐铐；上袖口 | |
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52
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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53
precariously
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| adv.不安全地；危险地；碰机会地；不稳定地 | |
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54
crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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55
moldy
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| adj.发霉的 | |
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56
spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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57
frustration
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| n.挫折，失败，失效，落空 | |
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58
milky
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| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
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59
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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60
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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61
wheezing
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| v.喘息，发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的现在分词 )；哮鸣 | |
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62
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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63
protruding
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的现在分词 )；凸 | |
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64
agitating
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| 搅动( agitate的现在分词 )； 激怒； 使焦虑不安； （尤指为法律、社会状况的改变而）激烈争论 | |
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65
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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66
cluttered
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| v.杂物，零乱的东西零乱vt.( clutter的过去式和过去分词 )；乱糟糟地堆满，把…弄得很乱；（以…） 塞满… | |
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67
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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68
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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69
ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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70
weirdly
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| 古怪地 | |
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71
collapsing
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| 压扁[平]，毁坏，断裂 | |
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72
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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73
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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74
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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75
throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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76
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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77
obliterated
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| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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78
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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79
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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80
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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81
deflected
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| 偏离的 | |
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82
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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83
smacking
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| 活泼的，发出响声的，精力充沛的 | |
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84
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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85
chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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86
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
reverberating
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| 回响，回荡( reverberate的现在分词 )； 使反响，使回荡，使反射 | |
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88
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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89
unbearably
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| adv.不能忍受地，无法容忍地；慌 | |
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90
pumpkins
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| n.南瓜( pumpkin的名词复数 )；南瓜的果肉，南瓜囊 | |
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91
waddling
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| v.（像鸭子一样）摇摇摆摆地走( waddle的现在分词 ) | |
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92
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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93
falter
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| vi.(嗓音)颤抖，结巴地说；犹豫；蹒跚 | |
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94
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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95
steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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96
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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97
puffs
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| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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98
pajamas
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| n.睡衣裤 | |
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99
scooped
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| v.抢先报道( scoop的过去式和过去分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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100
sprinting
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| v.短距离疾跑( sprint的现在分词 ) | |
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101
cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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102
pram
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| n.婴儿车，童车 | |
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103
marionette
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| n.木偶 | |
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104
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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105
barricade
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| n.路障，栅栏，障碍；vt.设路障挡住 | |
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106
prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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107
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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108
whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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109
orphanage
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| n.孤儿院 | |
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110
rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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111
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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112
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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113
bunks
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| n.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的名词复数 )；空话，废话v.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的第三人称单数 )；空话，废话 | |
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114
drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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115
hover
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| vi.翱翔，盘旋；徘徊；彷徨，犹豫 | |
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116
severing
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的现在分词 )；断，裂 | |
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117
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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118
puncture
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| n.刺孔，穿孔；v.刺穿，刺破 | |
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119
nauseated
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| adj.作呕的，厌恶的v.使恶心，作呕( nauseate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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120
offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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121
holly
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| n.[植]冬青属灌木 | |
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122
phoenix
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| n.凤凰，长生(不死)鸟；引申为重生 | |
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123
severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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124
strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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125
blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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126
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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127
rebounded
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| 弹回( rebound的过去式和过去分词 )； 反弹； 产生反作用； 未能奏效 | |
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128
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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129
trickling
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| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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130
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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