He was walking along a mountain road in the cool blue light of dawn. Far below, swathed in mist, was the shadow of a small town. Was the man he sought down there, the man he needed so badly he could think of little else, the man who held the answer, the answer to his problem…?
“Oi, wake up.”
Harry1 opened his eyes. He was lying again on the camp bed in Ron’s dingy2 attic3 room. The sun had not yet risen and the room was still shadowy. Pigwidgeon was asleep with his head under his tiny wing. The scar on Harry’s forehead was prickling.
“You were muttering in your sleep.”
“Was I?”
“Yeah. ‘Gregorovitch.’ You kept saying ‘Gregorovitch.’”
Harry was not wearing his glasses; Ron’s face appeared slightly blurred4.
“Who’s Gregorovitch?”
“I dunno, do I? You were the one saying it.”
Harry rubbed his forehead, thinking. He had a vague idea he had heard the name before, but he could not think where.
“I think Voldemort’s looking for him.”
“Poor bloke,” said Ron fervently5.
Harry sat up, still rubbing his scar, now wide awake. He tried to remember exactly what he had seen in the dream, but all that came back was a mountainous horizon and the outline of the little village cradled in a deep valley.
“I think he’s abroad.”
“Who, Gregorovitch?”
“Voldemort. I think he’s somewhere abroad, looking for Gregorovitch. It didn’t look like anywhere in Britain.”
“You reckon you were seeing into his mind again?”
Ron sounded worried.
“Do me a favor and don’t tell Hermione,” said Harry. “Although how she expects me to stop seeing stuff in my sleep…”
He gazed up at little Pigwidgeon’s cage, thinking…Why was the name “Gregorovitch” familiar?
“I think,” he said slowly, “he’s got something to do with Quidditch. There’s some connection, but I can’t–I can’t think what it is.”
“Quidditch?” said Ron. “Sure you’re not thinking of Gorgovitch?”
“Who?”
“Dragomir Gorgovitch, Chaser, transferred to the Chudley Cannons7 for a record fee two years ago. Record holder8 for most Quaffle drops in a season.”
“No,” said Harry. “I’m definitely not thinking of Gorgovitch.”
“I try not to either,” said Ron. “Well, happy birthday anyway.”
“Wow – that’s right, I forgot! I’m seventeen!”
Harry seized the wand lying beside his camp bed, pointed9 it at the cluttered10 desk where he had left his glasses, and said, “Accio Glasses!” Although they were only around a foot away, there was something immensely satisfying about seeing them zoom11 toward him, at least until they poked12 him in the eye.
“Slick,” snorted Ron.
Reveling in the removal of his Trace, Harry sent Ron’s possessions flying around the room, causing Pigwidgeon to wake up and flutter excitedly around his cage. Harry also tried tying the laces of his trainers by magic (the resultant knot took several minutes to untie13 by hand) and, purely14 for the pleasure of it, turned the orange robes on Ron’s Chudley Cannons posters bright blue.
“I’d do your fly by hand, though,” Ron advised Harry, sniggering when Harry immediately checked it. “Here’s your present. Unwrap it up here, it’s not for my mother’s eyes.”
“A book?” said Harry as he took the rectangular parcel. “Bit of a departure from tradition, isn’t it?”
“This isn’t your average book,” said Ron. “It’d pure gold: Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches. Explains everything you need to know about girls. If only I’d had this last year I’d have known exactly how to get rid of Lavender and I would’ve known how to get going with… Well, Fred and George gave me a copy, and I’ve learned a lot. You’d be surprised, it’s not all about wandwork, either.”
When they arrived in the kitchen they found a pile of presents waiting on the table. Bill and Monsieur Delacour were finishing their breakfasts, while Mrs. Weasley stood chatting to them over the frying pan.
“Arthur told me to wish you a happy seventeenth, Harry,” said Mrs. Weasley, beaming at him. “He had to leave early for work, but he’ll be back for dinner. That’s our present on top.”
Harry sat down, took the square parcel she had indicated, and unwrapped it. Inside was a watch very like the one Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had given Ron for his seventeenth; it was gold, with stars circling around the race instead of hands.
“It’s traditional to give a wizard a watch when he comes of age,” said Mrs. Weasley, watching him anxiously from beside the cooker. “I’m afraid that one isn’t new like Ron’s, it was actually my brother Fabian’s and he wasn’t terribly careful with his possessions, it’s a bit dented15 on the back, but–”
The rest of her speech was lost; Harry had got up and hugged her. He tried to put a lot of unsaid things into the hug and perhaps she understood them, because she patted his cheek clumsily when he released her, then waved her wand in a slightly random16 way, causing half a pack of bacon to flop17 out of the frying pan onto the floor.
“Happy birthday, Harry!” said Hermione, hurrying into the kitchen and adding her own present to the top of the pile. “It’s not much, but I hope you like it. What did you get him?” she added to Ron, who seemed not to hear her.
“Come on, then, open Hermione’s!” said Ron.
She had bought him a new Sneakoscope. The other packages contained an enchanted18 razor from Bill and Fleur (“Ah yes, zis will give you ze smoothest shave you will ever ‘ave,” Monsieur Delacour assured him, “but you must tell it clearly what you want…ozzerwise you might find you ‘ave a leetle less hair zan you would like…”), chocolates from the Delacours, and an enormous box of the latest Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes19 merchandise from Fred and George.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione did not linger at the table, as the arrival of Madame Delacour, Fleur, and Gabrielle made the kitchen uncomfortably crowded.
“I’ll pack these for you,” Hermione said brightly, taking Harry’s presents out of his arms as the three of them headed back upstairs. “I’m nearly done, I’m just waiting for the rest of your underpants to come out of the wash, Ron–”
Ron’s splutter was interrupted by the opening of a door on the first-floor landing.
“Harry, will you come in here a moment?”
It was Ginny. Ron came to an abrupt20 halt, but Hermione took him by the elbow and tugged21 him on up the stairs. Feeling nervous, Harry followed Ginny into her room.
He had never been inside it before. It was small, but bright. There was a large poster of the Wizarding band the Weird22 Sisters on one wall, and a picture of Gwenog Jones, Captain of the all-witch Quidditch team the Holyhead Harpies, on the other. A desk stood facing the open window, which looked out over the orchard23 where he and Ginny had once played a two-a-side Quidditch with Ron and Hermione, and which now housed a large, pearly white marquee. The golden flag on top was level with Ginny’s window.
Ginny looked up into Harry’s face, took a deep breath, and said, “Happy seventeenth.”
“Yeah…thanks.”
She was looking at him steadily24; he however, found it difficult to look back at her; it was like gazing into a brilliant light.
“Nice view,” he said feebly, pointing toward with window.
She ignored this. He could not blame her.
“I couldn’t think what to get you,” she said.
“You didn’t have to get me anything.”
She disregarded this too.
“I didn’t know what would be useful. Nothing too big, because you wouldn’t be able to take it with you.”
He chanced a glance at her. She was not tearful; that was one of the many wonderful things about Ginny, she was rarely weepy. He had sometimes thought that having six brothers must have toughened her up.
She took a step closer to him.
“So then I thought, I’d like you to have something to remember me by, you know, if you meet some veela when you’re off doing whatever you’re doing.”
“I think dating opportunities are going to be pretty thin on the ground, to be honest.”
“There’s the silver lining25 I’ve been looking for,” she whispered, and then she was kissing him as she had never kissed him before, and Harry was kissing her back, and it was blissful oblivion better than firewhisky; she was the only real thing in the world, Ginny, the feel of her, one hand at her back and one in her long, sweet-smelling hair– The door banged open behind them and they jumped apart.
“Oh,” said Ron pointedly27. “Sorry.”
“Ron!” Hermione was just behind him, slight out of breath. There was a strained silence, then Ginny had said in a flat little voice, “Well, happy birthday anyway, Harry.”
Ron’s ears were scarlet28; Hermione looked nervous. Harry wanted to slam the door in their faces, but it felt as though a cold draft had entered the room when the door opened, and his shining moment had popped like a soap bubble. All the reasons for ending his relationship with Ginny, for staying well away from her, seemed to have slunk inside the room with Ron, and all happy forgetfulness was gone.
He looked at Ginny, wanting to say something, though he hardly knew what, but she had turned her back on him. He thought that she might have succumbed29, for once, to tears. He could not do anything to comfort her in front of Ron.
“I’ll see you later,” he said, and followed the other two out of the bedroom.
Ron marched downstairs, though the still-crowded kitchen and into the yard, and Harry kept pace with him all the way, Hermione trotting30 along behind them looking scared.
Once he reached the seclusion31 of the freshly mown lawn, Ron rounded on Harry.
“You ditched her. What are you doing now, messing her around?”
“I’m not messing her around,” said Harry, as Hermione caught up with them.
“Ron–”
But Ron held up a hand to silence her.
“She was really cut up when you ended it–”
“So was I. You know why I stopped it, and it wasn’t because I wanted to.”
“Yeah, but you go snogging her now and she’s just going to get her hopes up again–”
“She’s not an idiot, she knows it can’t happen, she’s not expecting us to–to end up married, or–”
As he said it, a vivid picture formed in Harry’s mind of Ginny in a white dress, marrying a tall, faceless, and unpleasant stranger.
In one spiraling moment it seemed to hit him: Her future was free and unencumbered, whereas his…he could see nothing but Voldemort ahead.
“If you keep groping her every chance you get–”
“It won’t happen again,” said Harry harshly. The day was cloudless, but he felt as though the sun had gone in. “Okay?”
Ron looked half resentful, half sheepish; he rocked backward and forward on his feet for a moment, then said, “Right then, well, that’s…yeah.”
Ginny did not seek another one-to-one meeting with Harry for the rest of the day, nor by any look or gesture did she show that they had shared more than polite conversation in her room. Nevertheless, Charlie’s arrival came as a relief to Harry. It provided a distraction32, watching Mrs. Weasley force Charlie into a chair, raise her wand threateningly, and announce that he was about to get a proper haircut.
As Harry’s birthday dinner would have stretched the Burrow33’s kitchen to breaking point even before the arrival of Charlie, Lupin, Tonks, and Hagrid, several tables were placed end to end in the garden. Fred and George bewitched a number of purple lanterns all emblazoned with a large number 17, to hang in midair over the guests.
Thanks to Mrs. Weasley’s ministrations, George’s wound was neat and clean, but Harry was not yet used to the dark hole in the side of his head, despite the twins’ many jokes about it.
Hermione made purple and gold streamers erupt from the end of her wand and drape themselves artistically34 over the trees and bushes.
“Nice,” said Ron, as with one final flourish of her wand, Hermione turned the leaves on the crabapple tree to gold. “You’ve really got an eye for that sort of thing.”
“Thank you, Ron!“ said Hermione, looking both pleased and a little confused. Harry turned away, smiling to himself. He had a funny notion that he would find a chapter on compliments when he found time to peruse35 his copy of Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches; he caught Ginny’s eye and grinned at her before remembering his promise to Ron and hurriedly striking up a conversation with Monsieur Delacour.
“Out of the way, out of the way!” sang Mrs. Weasley, coming through the gate with what appeared to be a giant, beach-ball-sized Snitch floating in front of her.
Seconds later Harry realized that it was his birthday cake, which Mrs. Weasley was suspending with her wand, rather than risk carrying it over the uneven36 ground. When the cake had finally landed in the middle of the table, Harry said, “That looks amazing, Mrs. Weasley.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, dear,” she said fondly. Over her shoulder, Ron gave Harry the thumbs-up and mouthed, Good one.
By seven o’clock all the guests had arrived, led into the house by Fred and George, who had waited for them at the end of the lane. Hagrid had honored the occasion by wearing his best, and horrible, hairy brown suit. Although Lupin smiled as he shook Harry’s hand, Harry thought he looked rather unhappy. It was all very odd; Tonks, beside him, looked simply radiant.
“Happy birthday, Harry,” she said, hugging him tightly.
“Seventeen, eh!” said Hagrid as he accepted a bucket-sized glass of wine from Fred. “Six years ter the day since we met, Harry, d’yeh remember it?”
“Vaguely,” said Harry, grinning up at him. “Didn’t you smash down the front door, give Dudley a pig’s tail, and tell me I was a wizard?”
“I forge’ the details,” Hagrid chortled. “All righ’, Ron, Hermione?”
“We’re fine,” said Hermione. “How are you?”
“Ar, not bad. Bin6 busy, we got some newborn unicorns37. I’ll show yeh when yeh get back–” Harry avoided Ron’s and Hermione’s gazes as Hagrid rummaged38 in his pocket.
“Here. Harry – couldn’t think what ter get teh, but then I remembered this.” He pulled out a small, slightly furry39 drawstring pouch40 with a long string, evidently intended to be worn around the neck. “Mokeskin. Hide anythin’ in there an’ no one but the owner can get it out. They’re rare, them.”
“Hagrid, thanks!”
“‘S’nothin’,” said Hagrid with a wave of a dustbin-lid-sized hand. “An’ there’s Charlie! Always liked him – hey! Charlie!”
Charlie approached, running his hand slightly ruefully over his new, brutally41 short haircut. He was shorter than Ron, thickset, with a number of burns and scratches up his muscled arms.
“Hi, Hagrid, how’s it going?”
“Bin meanin’ ter write fer ages. How’s Norbert doin’?”
“Norbert?” Charlie laughed. “The Norwegian Ridgeback? We call her Norberta now.”
“Wha – Norbert’s a girl?”
“Oh yeah,” said Charlie.
“How can you tell?” asked Hermione.
“They’re a lot more vicious,” said Charlie. He looked over his shoulder and dropped his voice. “Wish Dad would hurry up and get here. Mum’s getting edgy43.”
They all looked over at Mrs. Weasley. She was trying to talk to Madame Delacour while glancing repeatedly at the gate.
“I think we’d better start without Arthur,“ she called to the garden at large after a moment or two. ”He must have been held up at – oh!“
They all saw it at the same time: a streak44 of light that came flying across the yard and onto the table, where it resolved itself into a bright silver weasel, which stood on its hind26 legs and spoke45 with Mr. Weasley’s voice.
“Minister of Magic coming with me.”
The Patronus dissolved into thin air, leaving Fleur’s family peering in astonishment46 at the place where it had vanished.
“We shouldn’t be here,” said Lupin at once. “Harry – I’m sorry – I’ll explain some other time–”
He seized Tonks’s wrist and pulled her away; they reached the fence, climbed over it, and vanished from sight. Mrs. Weasley looked bewildered.
“The Minister – but why–? I don’t understand–”
But there was no time to discuss the matter; a second later, Mr. Weasley had appeared out of thin air at the gate, accompanied by Rufus Scrimgeour, instantly recognizable by his mane of grizzled hair.
The two newcomers marched across the yard toward the garden and the lantern-lit table, where everybody sat in silence, watching them draw closer. As Scrimgeour came within range of the lantern light. Harry saw that he looked much older than the last time that had met, scraggy and grim.
“Sorry to intrude,” said Scrimgeour, as he limped to a halt before the table. “Especially as I can see that I am gate-crashing a party.”
His eyes lingered for a moment on the giant Snitch cake.
“Many happy returns.”
“Thanks,” said Harry.
“I require a private word with you,” Scrimgeour went on. “Also with Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger.”
“Us?” said Ron, sounding surprised. “Why us?”
“I shall tell you that when we are somewhere more private,” said Scrimgeour. “Is there such a place?” he demanded of Mr. Weasley.
“Yes, of course,” said Mr. Weasley, who looked nervous. “The, er, sitting room, why don’t you use that?”
“You can lead the way,” Scrimgeour said to Ron. “There will be no need for you to accompany us, Arthur.”
Harry saw Mr. Weasley exchange a worried look with Mrs. Weasley as he, Ron, and Hermione stood up. As they led the way back to the house in silence, Harry knew that the other two were thinking the same as he was; Scrimgeour must, somehow, had learned that the three of them were planning to drop out of Hogwarts.
Scrimgeour did not speak as they all passed through the messed kitchen and into the Burrow’s sitting room. Although the garden had been full of soft golden evening light, it was already dark in here; Harry flicked47 his wand at the oil lamps as he entered and they illuminated48 the shabby but cozy49 room. Scrimgeour sat himself in the sagging50 armchair that Mr. Weasley normally occupied, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione to squeeze side by side onto the sofa. Once they had done so, Scrimgeour spoke.
“I have some questions for the three of you, and I think it will be best if we do it individually. If you two” – he pointed at Harry and Hermione – “can wait upstairs, I will start with Ronald.”
“We’re not going anywhere,“ said Harry, while Hermione nodded vigorously. ”You can speak to us together, or not at all.“
Scrimgeour gave Harry a cold, appraising51 look. Harry had the impression that the Minister was wondering whether it was worthwhile opening hostilities52 this early.
“Very well then, together,“ he said, shrugging. He cleared his throat. ”I am here, as I’m sure you know, because of Albus Dumbledore’s will.“
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another.
“A surprise, apparently53! You were not aware then that Dumbledore had left you anything?“
“A-all of us?” said Ron, “Me and Hermione too?”
“Yes, all of –”
But Harry interrupted.
“Dumbledore died over a month ago. Why has it taken this long to give us what he left us?”
“Isn’t it obvious?“ said Hermione, before Scrimgeour could answer. ”They wanted to examine whatever he’s left us. You had no right to do that!“ she said, and her voice trembled slightly.
“I had every right,“ said Scrimgeour dismissively. ”The Decree for Justifiable54 Confiscation55 gives the Ministry56 the power the confiscate57 the contents of a will–“
“That law was created to stop wizards passing on Dark artifacts,“ said Hermione, ”and the Ministry is supposed to have powerful evidence that the deceased’s possessions are illegal before seizing them! Are you telling me that you thought Dumbledore was trying to pass us something cursed?“
“Are you planning to follow a career in Magical Law, Miss Granger?” asked Scrimgeour.
“No, I’m not,” retorted Hermione. “I’m hoping to do some good in the world!”
Ron laughed. Scrimgeour’s eyes flickered58 toward him and away again as Harry spoke.
“So why have you decided59 to let us have our things now? Can’t think of a pretext60 to keep them?”
“No, it’ll be because thirty-one days are up,” said Hermione at once. “They can’t keep the objects longer than that unless they can prove they’re dangerous. Right?”
“Would you say you were close to Dumbledore, Ronald?” asked Scrimgeour, ignoring Hermione. Ron looked startled.
“Me? Not – not really… It was always Harry who…”
Ron looked around at Harry and Hermione, to see Hermione giving him a stop-talking-now! sort of look, but the damage was done; Scrimgeour looked as though he had heard exactly what he had expected, and wanted, to hear. He swooped61 like a bird of prey62 upon Ron’s answer.
“If you were not very close to Dumbledore, how do you account for the fact that he remembered you in his will? He made exceptionally few personal bequests64. The vast majority of his possessions – his private library, his magical instruments, and other personal effects – were left to Hogwarts. Why do you think you were singled out?“
“I…dunno,“ said Ron. “I…when I say we weren’t close…I mean, I think he liked me…”
“You’re being modest, Ron,” said Hermione. “Dumbledore was very fond of you.”
This was stretching the truth to breaking point; as far as Harry knew, Ron and Dumbledore had never been alone together, and direct contact between them had been negligible. However, Scrimgeour did not seem to be listening. He put his hand inside his cloak and drew out a drawstring pouch much larger than the one Hagrid had given Harry. From it, he removed a scroll65 of parchment which he unrolled and read aloud.
“‘The Last Will and Testament66 of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore’… Yes, here we are… ‘To Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that he will remember me when he uses it.’”
Scrimgeour took from the bag an object that Harry had seen before: It looked something like a silver cigarette lighter67, but it had, he knew, the power to suck all light from a place, and restore it, with a simple click. Scrimgeour leaned forward and passed the Deluminator to Ron, who took it and turned it over in the fingers looking stunned68.
“That is a valuable object,” said Scrimgeour, watching Ron. “It may even be unique. Certainly it is of Dumbledore’s own design. Why would he have left you and item so rare?”
Ron shook his head, looking bewildered.
“Dumbledore must have taught thousands of students,“ Scrimgeour persevered70. ”Yet the only ones he remembered in his will are you three. Why is that? To what use did he think you would put to the Deluminator, Mr. Weasley?“
“Put out lights, I s’pose,” mumbled71 Ron. “What else could I do with it?”
Evidently Scrimgeour had no suggestions. After squinting72 at Ron for a moment or tow, he turned back to Dumbledore’s will.
“‘To Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard73, in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive.’”
Scrimgeour now pulled out of the bag a small book that looked as ancient as the copy of Secrets of the Darkest Art upstairs. Its binding74 was stained and peeling in places. Hermione took it from Scrimgeour without a word. She held the book in her lap and gazed at it. Harry saw that the title was in runes; he had never learned to read them. As he looked, a tear splashed onto the embossed symbols.
“Why do you think Dumbledore left you that book, Miss Granger?” asked Scrimgeour.
“He… he knew I liked books,” said Hermione in a thick voice, mopping her eyes with her sleeve.
“But why that particular book?”
“I don’t know. He must have thought I’d enjoy it.”
“Did you ever discuss codes, or any means of passing secret messages, with Dumbledore?“
“No, I didn’t,” said Hermione, still wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “And if the Ministry hasn’t found any hidden codes in this book in thirty-one days, I doubt that I will.”
She suppressed a sob75. They were wedged together so tightly that Ron had difficulty extracting his arm to put it around Hermione’s shoulders. Scrimgeour turned back to the will.
“‘To Harry James Potter,’“ he read, and Harry’s insides contracted with a sudden excitement, ”‘I leave the Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, as a reminder76 of the rewards of perseverance77 and skill.’“
As Scrimgeour pulled out the tiny, walnut-sized golden ball, its silver wings fluttered rather feebly, and Harry could not help feeling a definite sense of anticlimax78.
“Why did Dumbledore leave you this Snitch?” asked Scrimgeour.
“No idea,“ said Harry. ”For the reasons you just read out, I suppose… to remind me what you can get if you… persevere69 and whatever it was.“
“You think this a mere79 symbolic80 keepsake, then?”
“I suppose so,” said Harry. “What else could it be?”
“I’m asking the questions,” said Scrimgeour, shifting his chair a little closer to the sofa. Dusk was really falling outside now; the marquee beyond the windows towered ghostly white over the hedge.
“I notice that your birthday cake is in the shape of a Snitch,” Scrimgeour said to Harry. “Why is that?”
Hermione laughed derisively81.
“Oh, it can’t be a reference to the fact Harry’s a great Seeker, that’s way too obvious,” she said. “There must be a secret message from Dumbledore hidden in the icing!”
“I don’t think there’s anything hidden in the icing,“ said Scrimgeour, ”but a Snitch would be a very good hiding place for a small object. You know why, I’m sure?“
Harry shrugged82, Hermione, however, answered: Harry thought that answering questions correctly was such a deeply ingrained habit she could not suppress the urge.
“Because Snitches have flesh memories,” she said.
“What?” said Harry and Ron together; both considered Hermione’s Quidditch knowledge negligible.
“Correct,” said Scrimgeour. “A Snitch is not touched by bare skin before it is released, not even by the maker83, who wears gloves. It carries an enchantment84 by which it can identify the first human to lay hands upon it, in case of a disputed capture. This Snitch” – he held up the tiny golden ball – “will remember your touch, Potter.
It occurs to me that Dumbledore, who had prodigious85 magical skill, whatever his other faults, might have enchanted this Snitch so that it will open only for you.“
Harry’s heart was beating rather fast. He was sure that Scrimgeour was right. How could he avoid taking the Snitch with his bare hand in front of the Minister?
“You don’t say anything,“ said Scrimgeour. ”Perhaps you already know what the Snitch contains?“
“No,” said Harry, still wondering how he could appear to touch the Snitch without really doing so. If only he knew Legilimency, really knew it, and could read Hermione’s mind; he could practically hear her brain whizzing beside him.
“Take it,” said Scrimgeour quietly.
Harry met the Minister’s yellow eyes and knew he had no option but to obey. He held out his hand, and Scrimgeour leaned forward again and place the Snitch, slowly and deliberately86, into Harry’s palm.
Nothing happened. As Harry’s fingers closed around the Snitch, its tired wings fluttered and were still. Scrimgeour, Ron, and Hermione continued to gaze avidly87 at the now partially88 concealed89 ball, as if still hoping it might transform in some way.
“That was dramatic,” said Harry coolly. Both Ron and Hermione laughed.
“That’s all, then, is it?” asked Hermione, making to raise herself off the sofa.
“Not quite,” said Scrimgeour, who looked bad tempered now. “Dumbledore left you a second bequest63, Potter.”
“What is it?” asked Harry, excitement rekindling90.
Scrimgeour did not bother to read from the will this time.
“The sword of Godric Gryffindor,” he said. Hermione and Ron both stiffened91. Harry looked around for a sign of the ruby-encrusted hilt, but Scrimgeour did not pull the sword from the leather pouch, which in any case looked much too small to contain it.
“So where is it?” Harry asked suspiciously.
“Unfortunately,“ said Scrimgeour, “that sword was not Dumbledore’s to give away. The sword of Godric Gryffindor is an important historical artifact, and as such, belongs–”
“It belongs to Harry!” said Hermione hotly. “It chose him, he was the one who found it, it came to him out of the Sorting Hat–”
“According to reliable historical sources, the sword may present itself to any worthy92 Gryffindor,” said Scrimgeour. “That does not make it the exclusive property of Mr. Potter, whatever Dumbledore may have decided.” Scrimgeour scratched his badly shaven cheek, scrutinizing93 Harry. “Why do you think–?”
“–Dumbledore wanted to give me the sword?“ said Harry, struggling to keep his temper. ”Maybe he thought it would look nice on my wall.“
“This is not a joke, Potter!“ growled94 Scrimgeour. ”Was it because Dumbledore believed that only the sword of Godric Gryffindor could defeat the Heir of Slytherin?
Did he wish to give you that sword, Potter, because he believed, as do many, that you are the one destined95 to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?“
“Interesting theory,” said Harry. “Has anyone ever tried sticking a sword in Voldemort? Maybe the Ministry should put some people onto that, instead of wasting their time stripping down Deluminators or covering up breakouts from Azkaban. So this is what you’ve been doing, Minister, shut up in your office, trying to break open a Snitch? People are dying – I was nearly one of them – Voldemort chased me across three countries, he killed Mad-Eye Moody96, but there’s no word about any of that from the Ministry, has there? And you still expect us to cooperate with you!”
“You go too far!” shouted Scrimgeour, standing97 up: Harry jumped to his feet too. Scrimgeour limped toward Harry and jabbed him hard in the chest with the point of his wand; It singed98 a hole in Harry’s T-shirt like a lit cigarette.
“Oi!” said Ron, jumping up and raising his own wand, but Harry said, “No! D’you want to give him an excuse to arrest us?”
“Remembered you’re not at school, have you?“ said Scrimgeour breathing hard into Harry’s face. ”Remembered that I am not Dumbledore, who forgave your insolence99 and insubordination? You may wear that scar like a crown, Potter, but it is not up to a seventeen-year-old boy to tell me how to do my job! It’s time you learned some respect!“
“It’s time you earned it.” said Harry.
The floor trembled; there was a sound of running footsteps, then the door to the sitting room burst open and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley ran in.
“We – we thought we heard –“ began Mr. Weasley, looking thoroughly100 alarmed at the sight of Harry and the Minister virtually nose to nose.
“ – raised voices,” panted Mrs. Weasley.
Scrimgeour took a couple of steps back from Harry, glancing at the hole he had made in Harry’s T-shirt. He seemed to regret his loss of temper.
“It – it was nothing,” he growled. “I … regret your attitude,” he said, looking Harry full in the face once more. “You seem to think that the Ministry does not desire what you – what Dumbledore – desired. We ought to work together.”
“I don’t like your methods, Minister,” said Harry. “Remember?”
For the second time, he raised his right fist and displayed to Scrimgeour the scar that still showed white on the back of it, spelling I must not tell lies . Scrimgeour’s expression hardened. He turned away without another word and limped from the room. Mrs. Weasley hurried after him; Harry heard her stop at the back door. After a minute or so she called, “He’s gone!”
“What did he want?” Mr. Weasley asked, looking around at Harry, Ron, and Hermione as Mrs. Weasley came hurrying back to them.
“To give us what Dumbledore left us,” said Harry. “They’ve only just released the content of his will.”
Outside in the garden, over the dinner tables, the three objects Scrimgeour had given them were passed from hand to hand. Everyone exclaimed over the Deluminator and The Tales of Beedle the Bard and lamented101 the fact that Scrimgeour had refused to pass on the sword, but none of them could offer any suggestion as to why Dumbledore would have left Harry an old Snitch. As Mr. Weasley examined the Deluminator for the third of fourth time, Mrs. Weasley said tentatively, “Harry, dear, everyone’s awfully102 hungry we didn’t like to start without you… Shall I serve dinner now?”
They all ate rather hurriedly and then after a hasty chorus of “Happy Birthday” and much gulping103 of cake, the party broke up. Hagrid, who was invited to the wedding the following day, but was far too bulky to sleep in the overstretched Burrow, left to set up a tent for himself in a neighboring field.
“Meet us upstairs,” Harry whispered to Hermione, while they helped Mrs. Weasley restore the garden to its normal state. “After everyone’s gone to bed.”
Up in the attic room, Ron examined his Deluminator, and Harry filled Hagrid’s moleskin purse, not with gold, but with those items he most prized, apparently worthless though some of them were the Marauder’s Map, the shard104 of Sirius’s enchanted mirror, and R.A.B.’s locket. He pulled the string tight and slipped the purse around his neck, then sat holding the old Snitch and watching its wings flutter feebly. At last, Hermione tapped on the door and tiptoed inside.
“Muffiato,” she whispered, waving her wand in the direction of the stairs.
“Thought you didn’t approve of that spell?” said Ron.
“Times change,“ said Hermione. ”Now, show us that Deluminator.“
Ron obliged at once. Holding I up in front of him, he clicked it. The solitary105 lamp they had lit went out at once.
“The thing is,” whispered Hermione through the dark, “we could have achieved that with Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.”
There was a small click, and the ball of light from the lamp flew back to the ceiling and illuminated them all once more.
“Still, it’s cool,” said Ron, a little defensively. “And from what they said, Dumbledore invented it himself!”
“I know but, surely he wouldn’t have singled you out in his will just to help us turn out the lights!”
“D’you think he knew the Ministry would confiscate his will and examine everything he’d left us?” asked Harry.
“Definitely,” said Hermione. “He couldn’t tell us in the will why he was leaving us these things, but that will doesn’t explain…”
“… why he couldn’t have given us a hint when he was alive?” asked Ron.
“Well, exactly,“ said Hermione, now flicking106 through The Tales of Beedle the Bard. ”If these things are important enough to pass on right under the nose of the Ministry, you’d think he’d have left us know why… unless he thought it was obvious?“
“Thought wrong, then, didn’t he?” said Ron. “I always said he was mental. Brilliant and everything, but cracked. Leaving Harry an old Snitch – what the hell was that about?”
“I’ve no idea,” said Hermione. “When Scrimgeour made you take it, Harry, I was so sure that something was going to happen!”
“Yeah, well,” said Harry, his pulse quickened as he raised the Snitch in his fingers. “I wasn’t going to try too hard in front of Scrimgeour was I?”
“What do you mean?” asked Hermione.
“The Snitch I caught in my first ever Quidditch match?” said Harry. “Don’t you remember?”
Hermione looked simply bemused. Ron, however, gasped107, pointing frantically108 from Harry to the Snitch and back again until he found his voice.
“That was the one you nearly swallowed!”
“Exactly,” said Harry, and with his heart beating fast, he pressed his mouth to the Snitch.
It did not open. Frustration109 and bitter disappointment welled up inside him: He lowered the golden sphere, but then Hermione cried out.
“Writing! There’s writing on it, quick, look!” He nearly dropped the Snitch in surprise and excitement. Hermione was quite right. Engraved110 upon the smooth golden surface, where seconds before there had been nothing, were five words written in the thin, slanted111 handwriting that Harry recognized as Dumbledore’s I open at the close.
He had barely read them when the words vanished again.
“I open at the close…. What’s that supposed to mean?”
Hermione and Ron shook their heads, looking blank.
“I open at the close… at the close… I open at the close…”
But no matter how often they repeated the words, with many different inflections, they were unable to wring112 any more meaning from them.
“And the sword,” said Ron finally, when they had at last abandoned their attempts to divine meaning in the Snitch’s inscription113.
“Why did he want Harry to have the sword?”
“And why couldn’t he just have told me?” Harry said quietly. “I was there, it was right there on the wall of his office during all our talks last year! If he wanted me to have it, why didn’t he just give it to me then?”
He felt as thought he were sitting in an examination with a question he ought to have been able to answer in front of him, his brain slow and unresponsive. Was there something he had missed in the long talks with Dumbledore last year? Ought he to know what it all meant? Had Dumbledore expected him to understand?
“And as for this book.” Said Hermione, “The Tales of Beedle the Bard … I’ve never even heard of them!”
“You’ve never heard of The Tales of Beedle the Bard?” said Ron incredulously. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m not,” said Hermione in surprise. “Do you know them then?”
“Well, of course I do!”
Harry looked up, diverted. The circumstance of Ron having read a book that Hermione had not was unprecedented114. Ron, however, looked bemused by their surprise.
“Oh come on! All the old kids’ stories are supposed to be Beedle’s aren’t they? ‘The Fountain of Fair Fortune’ … ‘The Wizard and the Hopping115 Pot’… ‘Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump’…”
“Excuse me?” said Hermione giggling116. “What was the last one?”
“Come off it!” said Ron, looking in disbelief from Harry to Hermione. “You must’ve heard of Babbitty Rabbitty – ”
“Ron, you know full well Harry and I were brought up by Muggles!” said Hermione. “We didn’t hear stories like that when we were little, we heard ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarves’ and ‘Cinderella’ – ”
“What’s that, an illness?” asked Ron.
“So these are children’s stories?” asked Hermione, bending against over the runes.
“Yeah.” Said Ron uncertainly. “I mean, just what you hear, you know, that all these old stories came from Beedle. I dunno what they’re like in the original versions.”
“But I wonder why Dumbledore thought I should read them?”
Something cracked downstairs.
“Probably just Charlie, now Mum’s asleep, sneaking117 off to regrow his hair,” said Ron nervously118.
“All the same, we should get to bed,” whispered Hermione. “It wouldn’t do to oversleep tomorrow.”
“No,” agreed Ron. “A brutal42 triple murder by the bridegroom’s mother might put a bit of damper on the wedding. I’ll get the light.”
And he clicked the Deluminator once more as Hermione left the room.
一片清爽的蓝色晨曦中，他走在一条山路上。遥远的山下，一个小镇的影子被笼罩在雾气之中。那里真的有他要找的那个人吗，那个他苦苦思念的、并将解决他所有困惑的人？
“嘿，起床了！”
哈利睁开眼，他依然躺在罗恩那间杂乱无章的阁楼小屋的露营床上。太阳尚未升起，屋子里还是很暗。猫头鹰小猪把头埋在小翅膀间，仍旧睡着。哈利额头上的伤疤一阵刺痛。
“你睡觉时一直在咕哝着什么？”
“是吗？”
“是啊，‘格里戈维奇’，你一直在说‘格里戈维奇’这个词。”
哈利没有戴眼镜，罗恩的脸显得有些模糊不清。
“谁是格里戈维奇？”
“我怎么知道，那个名字是你说出来的！”
哈利一边揉着额头一边想。他隐约觉得从前好像听到过这个名字，只是想不起来是在哪儿听到的了。
“我觉得伏地魔正在找他。”
“可怜的家伙。”罗恩诚恳地说道。
哈利坐起来，不停的抚摸着伤疤，现在他完全醒了。他努力回想梦中的所看到的情景，但唯一能想起来的只有山峦起伏的地平线和被深谷环抱的村庄剪影。
“我想他在国外。”
“谁？格里戈维奇？”
“是伏地魔。我想他现在正在国外某处找格里戈维奇。那儿不像是英国的地方。”
“你觉得你又进入他的大脑思维了？”罗恩担忧地问道。
“拜托，千万别告诉赫敏。”哈利说，”她可不希望我在梦里看见那些东西……”
他抬头盯着小猪的笼子，一边想道……为什么格里戈维奇这个名字如此熟悉？
“我想，”他慢慢地说，”或许是跟魁地奇比赛有关吧。这之间肯定有什么联系，但是我想不出——想不出是什么。”
“魁地奇比赛？”罗恩说，”你不是想到了格尔戈维奇了吧？”
“谁？”
“德拉格米尔·格尔戈维奇，那个两年前以破纪录的转会费转会到查理-火炮队队的追球手啊！还是那一赛季断球纪录保持者呢。”
“不，”哈利说，”我想的肯定不是格尔戈维奇。”
“我想也不是。”罗恩说，”不管怎样，祝你生日快乐！”
“哇——对呀，我都忘了！我十七岁了！”
哈利拿起放在露营床边上的魔杖，指着那张放着他眼镜的杂乱书桌说道，”眼镜飞来！”虽然那些东西离他只有一英尺远，但看着它们陡然飞过来在快戳到他眼睛的地方才停下来，却能产生巨大的满足感。
“漂亮！”罗恩喝彩道。
沉浸于欢乐中的哈利把罗恩房间里的东西都弄得满天飞，把小猪给吵醒了，激动地在笼子里拍打翅膀。哈利甚至试图用魔法来系鞋带（用魔法打的结用手得花好几分钟才能解开），还故意捣蛋把罗恩的查理-火炮队海报里的橙色队服变成了浅蓝色。
“要是我就用手，”罗恩建议道，他窃笑着，哈里很快就察觉到他有事要说。”这是送你的礼物，就在这儿打开，可不能让我妈妈看见。”
“是一本书？”哈利接过那个长方形的包裹。”跟那些正统书不太一样是吧？”
“这跟你平常读的书不同。”罗恩说，”这是绝对的经典。《追女仔之十二成败范例》能告诉你关于女孩子的所有事。要是去年我就看了这本书，拉文德也就没那么难甩了，我也就知道怎么和……总之，弗雷德和乔治给了我一个抄本，我从中学了很多东西呢。你会很惊讶地发现这里面不全是教你用魔杖来行事的。”
他们来到厨房时，桌子上已经堆满了礼物。比尔和德拉库尔先生快吃完早饭了，韦斯莱太太站在煎锅旁边和他们聊天。
“亚瑟让我替他祝你十七岁生日快乐，哈利。”韦斯莱太太愉快的说，”他很早就得去上班，不过晚饭时他会回来的。顶上的那个是我们送你的礼物。”
哈利坐下来，拿过她指着的那只方形包裹打开来。里面是一块手表，跟罗恩十七岁时，韦斯莱夫妇送他的那块表简直一模一样，表壳是金色的，表盘上转动着星星形状的指针。
“按照传统，一个巫师成年时都要送块手表给他，”韦斯莱太太在炉灶边有些不安的看着他，”不过这块表恐怕不如给罗恩的那块那么新，其实那是我哥哥费比安的表，他总是保管不好自己的东西，后盖上恐怕有个小凹口，不过——”
她的话说到停住了，因为哈利站起来抱住了她。他把许多没法用言语表达的感情都融进这个拥抱里了，可能她也明白了，在哈利放开她时，她用手笨拙地拍拍哈利的脸蛋，然后轻轻一挥魔杖，煎锅中的半块熏肉就飞出去掉在地板上了。
“生日快乐，哈利！”赫敏冲入厨房，把她的那份礼物放在礼物堆的顶上，说道，”只是份小礼物，不过希望你能喜欢。你送他的是什么？”她紧跟着问了罗恩一句，而后者假装没听见她的话。
“快点，把赫敏的礼物打开吧！”罗恩说道。
她给他买了一个新的窥镜。其他的礼物中包括比尔和芙蓉送的魔法剃刀（”啊，对了，‘则个’会让你体验‘追’美妙的理发感觉”，德拉库尔先生强调说，”但是你必须把你想要的发型说清楚……‘否折’你就会发现‘比预鸟中少了一点头发’……”），德拉库尔家送的是巧克力，弗雷德和乔治送来了一大盒子韦斯莱巫师戏法店的新进货品。
哈利、罗恩和赫敏没有在餐桌旁呆太久，因为德拉库尔夫人、芙蓉和加布丽、埃尔都在厨房里，显得有些拥挤不堪。
“我帮你把这些都包起来。”三人上楼时，赫敏把哈利怀里抱的礼物接过去，愉快地说道，”我快干完了，正等着把你剩下的内裤洗完呢，罗恩——”
罗恩慌忙中说了点什么，突然一楼平台上某个房间的门打开了。
“哈利，能进来一会儿吗？”
是金妮。
罗恩猛地停住，但是赫敏拉着他的胳膊肘，吃力地将他拽上楼去。哈利跟着金妮进了她的房间，有些紧张。
以前他从未进过金妮的房间。屋子虽然小但光线充足。墙上有一幅巨大的女巫乐队”古怪姐妹”的海报，另一头是女子魁地奇球队霍利黑德哈比队队长格温·琼斯的照片。敞开的窗前有一张桌子，窗外可以看到他们曾经跟罗恩赫敏一起打二对二魁地奇赛的小球场，现在球场中支起了一顶珍珠白的大帐篷。帐篷顶插着的金色旗帜，和金妮的窗口一样高。
金妮向上看着哈利的脸，深吸了口气，说道：”十七岁生日快乐。”
“好……谢谢。”
她直视地看着他，然而他却无法那样去看她，那无异于盯着刺眼的眩光。
“景色不错。”他轻声说道，指了指窗外。
她当作没听见，他也不能怪她。
“我想不出该送你什么。”她说。
“你不必送我东西。”
她把这句话也当作没听见。
“我不知道什么东西对你有用，不能太大，因为你没法带在身边。”
他偷眼瞧了她一下，她没有哭，这是金妮的一个独特之处，她很少哭泣。他想也许是因为和六个哥哥一起长大，使她变坚强的。
她朝他走近了一步。
“所以我想，我要给你一件让你能记住我的东西，你知道，你今后在外面也许会碰见许多媚娃。”
“老实说，我觉得决战时可没有什么约会的机会。”
“那也是不幸之中的万幸，”她轻声说着，然后吻他，好像从来没有吻过他一样，哈利也同样吻着她，像是喝了火热威士忌般陶醉。金妮，她仿佛是世上唯一真实的东西，一只手放在她背上，另一只手穿过她那带着甜香的长发，那感觉——
门”砰”的一声被推开，他们骤然分开了。
“噢，”罗恩有目的般地叫道，”对不起。”
“罗恩！”赫敏站在他身后，微微喘着气。一段尴尬的沉默后，金妮平静的小声说道：
“那么，还是要祝你生日快乐，哈利。”
罗恩的耳朵赤红，赫敏也似乎很紧张。哈利简直想要把门拍在他们脸上，但是随着房门的打开他也冷静了下来，刚才的激情像肥皂泡般破碎了。所有他不能和金妮继续发展的原因，让他不得不远离她的那些原因，跟着罗恩一起溜进了房间，让他抛开一切换来的短暂快乐消失无踪。
他看着金妮，想要说些什么，其实他自己也不知道要说什么，然而她转过身背对着他。他想也许她这次是忍不住流泪了。但是在罗恩面前他没办法去安慰她。
“过会儿见。”他说道，然后跟着那两人出了屋子。
罗恩大步走下楼，穿过仍旧拥挤的厨房来到院子里，哈里一直快步跟着他，赫敏在他们后面小跑着跟着，有点恐慌。
一到了刚修剪过的草坪后面，罗恩就开始围着哈利绕圈子。
“你害了她，你现在在做什么，浪费她的青春？”
“我没有浪费她的青春，”哈利说道，这时赫敏追了上来。
“罗恩——”
但是罗恩抬手让她别说话。
“当你提出分手时她真的很难过——”
“我也一样啊，你知道我为什么要分手，那也并不是我所愿意的。”
“没错，但是你现在又来挑逗她，又让她生起了希望——”
“她不是笨蛋，她知道那不可能的，她没指望着我们俩最后能——能结婚，或是——”
他说着说着，脑海里就浮现出金妮身穿白色婚纱，正在和一个高大讨厌的不知名的男子举行婚礼的情景。
那一刻他猛然意识到：她的未来自由没有阻碍，而他的则是……除了伏地魔前面什么也没有。
“如果你每次一有机会就来撩拨她，那——”
“下次不会了，”哈利狠心说道，虽然天气万里无云，但他觉得看不到丝毫阳光。”行了吧？”
罗恩看上去既羞愧又愤恨，他来回踱着步子，好一阵子才说道：”那好，那么，就……这样吧。”
那天金妮再也没有试图跟哈利单独相处，也没有表现出他们曾在她的卧室里有过什么越轨的行为。不过，查理的到来给了哈利解脱。韦斯莱太太分心去注意查理，把他按坐在椅子里，威胁着挥动魔杖，告诉他该理发了。
哈利的生日晚宴规模大得要把陋居的厨房挤爆了，在查理、卢平、唐克斯和海格到来之前，花园里就已经安置了好几张桌子。弗雷德和乔治用魔法在几个紫色灯笼上烧出大大的”17”来，挂在客人们头顶上。多亏了韦斯莱太太的照顾，乔治的伤口已经清洗干净了，但哈利还是不习惯脑袋一侧的那个黑洞，双胞胎可没少了拿它开玩笑。
赫敏用魔杖变出许多紫色和金色彩带，很富情调地挂在树枝和灌木丛间。
“很不错，”罗恩说道，随着魔杖发出的最后一道魔法，赫敏把山楂树的叶子也都变成了金色。”你对这种事还真是有一套。”
“谢谢，罗恩，”赫敏说道，看上去又高兴又有点不解。哈利转过身偷笑起来。突然有种滑稽的想法，哪天有空细看那本《追女仔十二成败范例》时，会读到罗恩的这些恭维话的。他碰上了金妮的目光，冲她笑了一下，然后想起自己对罗恩的承诺，便慌忙跟德拉库尔先生交谈起来。
“借过！借过！”韦斯莱太太嚷道，她走进花园，面前浮动着一个巨大的、足有沙滩球那么大尺寸的金色飞贼。很快哈利意识到那是他的生日蛋糕。韦斯莱太太用魔杖把它悬浮在空中，要比捧着它走过凹凸不平的地面要安全得多。当蛋糕安全着陆于桌子中央时，哈利说道：”这太神奇了，韦斯莱太太。”
“哦，算不了什么，亲爱的，”她美滋滋地说道。罗恩越过她的肩膀向哈利竖起了大拇指，嘴形似乎是在说”干的好！”
七点钟所有的客人都到了，弗雷德和乔治站在小路的一头等着迎接客人并把他们带进屋来。海格为了显得郑重，穿上了他那件最好的可怕的棕色长毛大衣。虽然卢平和哈利握手时一直微笑着，哈利还是觉得他不是很快活。这太奇怪了，站在卢平身边的唐克斯反而满面春风。
“生日快乐，哈利！”她给了哈利一个紧紧的拥抱，说道。
“十七岁了啊，嘿！”海格说道，接过了弗雷德递过来的木桶那么大的一杯葡萄酒。”我们认识到现在都六年了，哈利，你还记得吗？”
“差不多吧，”哈利抬头朝他笑，”不就是你把前门打碎，让达力长出一条猪尾巴来，还告诉我我是个巫师么？”
“我忘记具体细节了，”海格得意地笑着，”你们好吗，罗恩，赫敏？”
“我们很好，”赫敏说，”你怎么样？”
“啊，不赖。一直瞎忙，我们又有了几头刚出生的独角兽。等你们回来我就给你们看——”海格翻腾口袋时，哈利躲避着罗恩和赫敏的目光，”在这儿，哈利——想不出送你点啥，不过我想起这个了。”他掏出一个小小的用毛茸茸细绳拴着的口袋，口袋上系着线绳，那线绳显然被戴在脖子上磨了很久了。”驴皮做的小袋子。装在里面的东西除了主人自己，谁也别想拿。可罕见的！”
“海格，太谢谢你了！”
“甭客气！”海格摇了摇垃圾桶那么大的手。”查理也在这儿！我一直都喜欢他——嘿！查理!”
查理走了过来，苦恼地用手摸着他那可怕的新发型。他比罗恩要矮，五短身材，肌肉发达的手臂上有不少烫伤和划伤的疤痕。
“嗨，海格，最近怎么样？”
“好久没见了，诺伯特怎么样了？”
“诺伯特？”查理大笑道，”那条挪威脊龙？现在我们叫她诺贝塔了。”
“哇——诺伯特是条母龙？”
“哦，是的。”查理说。
“你们是怎么知道的？”赫敏问道。
“因为母的更凶。”查理说。他转头向后看了看然后降低了声音：”但愿爸爸快点回来，妈妈快急了！”
大家都去看韦斯莱太太。她正在不停的瞥着大门，同时努力的跟德拉库尔夫人聊着。
“我想我们最好开始吧，不等亚瑟了。”她又看了几次后说。”他一定是有事耽搁了——噢！”
所有人都看见了：一道光芒从院子上空飞来落在桌子上，然后变化成一只银色鼬鼠，后退站立，用韦斯莱先生的声音说道：
“魔法部长要和我一起回来。”
守护神消失在稀薄的空气中，芙蓉一家人震惊的盯着它消失的地方。
“我们不能呆在这了”卢平立刻说道，”哈利——我很抱歉——有时间我会跟你解释的——”
他一把抓起唐克斯的手把她拉走，他们翻过了篱笆墙，消失在视野之中。韦斯莱太太有点迷惑不解。
“部长？但是为什么呀？——我不明白——”
但是已经没功夫讨论这个了，一秒钟后，韦斯莱先生便从稀薄空气中出现在大门外，身边跟着鲁弗斯·斯克林杰，带着象征性的一头灰白头发。
刚来的两人大步走过院子，朝花园中点亮了灯笼的桌子走来。所有人都不发一言的坐在那儿，看着他们越走越近。当斯克林杰走进灯笼的光圈内时，哈利发现他比上次见面时看起来老多了，干枯的脸上布满严霜。
“抱歉打搅了你们，”斯克林杰瘸着腿走到桌边一个空位旁，”特别是当我知道自己是个不速之客。”
他的目光在巨大的金飞贼蛋糕上停留了片刻。
“衷心祝福你。”
“谢谢。”哈利说。
“我想要单独跟你说句话。”斯克林杰继续道，”还有罗纳德·韦斯莱先生和赫敏·格兰杰小姐。”
“我们？”罗恩惊讶的说，”怎么还有我们？”
“等到了无人之处我再告诉你们。”斯克林杰说，”这有没有单独说话的地方？”他问韦斯莱先生。
“当然有，”韦斯莱先生说，他看起来很紧张，”厄，客厅，干嘛不用客厅？”
“你可以为我们带路。”斯克林杰对罗恩说，”你用不着陪着我们，亚瑟。”
哈利看见自己和罗恩赫敏三人站起来时韦斯莱夫妇不安地对视了一眼。他们向房子里默默走去时，哈利知道其他两人也在想同样的问题。斯克林杰应该知道了他们三人打算从霍格沃茨退学的消息。
当他们穿过混乱的厨房，走进陋居客厅时，斯克林杰一直没开口。虽然花园里遍布柔和的金色光芒，客厅却很黑。进来后哈利轻敲魔杖点着了油灯，这间破旧但温馨的屋子立刻被照亮了。
斯克林杰一屁股坐进韦斯莱先生常坐的扶手椅中，哈利罗恩赫敏则挨个挤坐在沙发里。他们一坐下，斯克林杰就开口了。
“我有几个问题想问你们三人，我想最好还是一对一的说，或许你们俩——”他指着哈利和赫敏——”能在楼上等一会儿，我想先从罗纳德开始问。”
“我们哪儿也不去，”哈利说道，赫敏也重重点头。”你要么跟我们三个人一起谈，要么就都别谈。”
斯克林杰用审视的目光冷冷的看了哈利一眼。哈利感觉部长大人正在考虑是否应该这么早就跟自己撕破脸皮。
“那好吧，那就一起谈。”他耸耸肩说道，清了清嗓子，”我来这儿，正如你们知道的，是因为阿不思·邓布利多的遗嘱。”
哈利罗恩赫敏面面相觑。
“显然你们很惊讶！你们不知道邓布利多有东西留给你们吗？”
“我们？”罗恩说，”还有我和赫敏？”
“是的，你们三个——”
但是哈利打断了他的话。
“邓布利多死了一个多月了，为什么这么久之后才给我们他的遗物？”
“这不是明摆着嘛？”还没等斯克林杰开口，赫敏先说道，”他们想要知道他留给我们什么东西。你没权利那么做！”她的声音微微颤抖。
“我什么权利都有，”斯克林杰轻蔑的说，”正当没收法令给予魔法部没收遗嘱上所有东西的权利——”
“那条法律是用来阻止巫师之间传递黑魔法物品才颁布的，”赫敏说，”而且魔法部还应该有足够证据证明死者的遗物是非法的，然后才能没收！你的意思是说，你觉得邓布利多想要留给我们的是被诅咒的东西？”
“你有没有意向今后在法律界发展呢，格兰杰小姐？”斯克林杰问道。
“不，我没那兴趣，”赫敏反驳道，”我只想为这个世界做点好事！”
罗恩笑了出来。斯克林杰把目光移向他，当哈利说话时又移开了。
“那你又怎么会决定要把我们的东西还回来呢？难道是想不出什么借口扣下？”
“不是，那是因为已经过了三十一天了。”赫敏立刻接口，”除非能证明那些东西有危险否则就不能继续扣押。对吧？”
“邓布利多是不是跟你关系很亲密，罗纳德？”
“我？不——不太密切……好像哈利才是……”
罗恩看了看哈利和赫敏，赫敏一直在给他”快闭嘴”的眼神，然而太晚了，斯克林杰看上去似乎得到了他所想要的答案。他像扑食的恶鸟一样对罗恩穷追不舍。
“既然你和他的关系没那么亲密，又为什么会在遗嘱中提到你呢？他留给个人的遗产非常少，大部分财产——他的私人图书馆，魔法物品和其他私人财产——都留给了霍格沃茨。你觉得你为什么就能被选中呢？”
“我……不知道，”罗恩说，”我……我说没那么亲密……我的意思是，我想他是喜欢我的……”
“你总那么谦虚，罗恩，”赫敏说，”邓布利多非常喜欢你呢。”
这似乎并不怎么靠谱，据哈利所知，罗恩和邓布利多从来没有单独相处过，直接接触的情况也可以忽略不计。但是，斯克林杰看起来并没有听进去。他把手伸进斗篷里，掏出一个比海格送给哈利那个大得多的驴皮口袋，从里面拿出一卷羊皮纸，展开大声读道：
“阿不思·珀西瓦尔·伍尔弗里克·布赖恩·邓布利多最后的遗愿……啊，在这儿……把我的熄灯器留给罗纳德·比利尔斯·韦斯莱，希望每当他用到的时候都会想起我。”
斯克林杰从包里拿出一件哈利以前见过的东西：它看起来有点象一只银色的打火机，但哈利知道，这东西有着吸走一个地方所有光线的力量，只需轻敲一下就又可以恢复。斯克林杰向前倾了下身子，把熄灯器递给了罗恩，罗恩迷茫得把它拿在手里翻来覆去的看。
“那可是件价值连城的东西。”斯克林杰看着罗恩说道，”而且可能世上仅此一个。这肯定是邓布利多自己设计造出来的，他为什么要留给你这么稀罕的东西？”
罗恩迷惑不解的摇了摇头。
“邓布利多教了数千学生，”斯
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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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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bin
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| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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cannons
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| n.加农炮，大炮，火炮( cannon的名词复数 ) | |
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holder
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| n.持有者，占有者；(台，架等)支持物 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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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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zoom
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| n.急速上升；v.突然扩大，急速上升 | |
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poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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untie
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| vt.解开，松开；解放 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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dented
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| v.使产生凹痕( dent的过去式和过去分词 )；损害；伤害；挫伤（信心、名誉等） | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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flop
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| n.失败(者)，扑通一声；vi.笨重地行动，沉重地落下 | |
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enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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wheezes
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| n.喘息声( wheeze的名词复数 )v.喘息，发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的第三人称单数 ) | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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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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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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pointedly
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| adv.尖地，明显地 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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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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trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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burrow
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| vt.挖掘(洞穴)；钻进；vi.挖洞；翻寻；n.地洞 | |
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artistically
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| adv.艺术性地 | |
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peruse
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| v.细读，精读 | |
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uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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unicorns
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| n.（传说中身体似马的）独角兽( unicorn的名词复数 )；一角鲸；独角兽标记 | |
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rummaged
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| 翻找，搜寻( rummage的过去式和过去分词 )； 已经海关检查 | |
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furry
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| adj.毛皮的；似毛皮的；毛皮制的 | |
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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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brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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edgy
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| adj.不安的；易怒的 | |
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streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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45
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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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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cozy
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| adj.亲如手足的，密切的，暖和舒服的 | |
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50
sagging
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| 下垂[沉，陷]，松垂，垂度 | |
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appraising
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| v.估价( appraise的现在分词 )；估计；估量；评价 | |
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52
hostilities
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| n.战争；敌意(hostility的复数)；敌对状态；战事 | |
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53
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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54
justifiable
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| adj.有理由的，无可非议的 | |
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confiscation
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| n. 没收, 充公, 征收 | |
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56
ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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57
confiscate
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| v.没收(私人财产)，把…充公 | |
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58
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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bequest
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| n.遗赠；遗产，遗物 | |
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bequests
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| n.遗赠( bequest的名词复数 )；遗产，遗赠物 | |
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scroll
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| n.卷轴，纸卷；(石刻上的)漩涡 | |
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66
testament
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| n.遗嘱；证明 | |
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67
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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68
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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persevere
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| v.坚持，坚忍，不屈不挠 | |
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persevered
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| v.坚忍，坚持( persevere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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73
bard
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| n.吟游诗人 | |
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binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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77
perseverance
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| n.坚持不懈，不屈不挠 | |
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78
anticlimax
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| n.令人扫兴的结局；突降法 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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symbolic
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| adj.象征性的，符号的，象征主义的 | |
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derisively
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| adv. 嘲笑地，嘲弄地 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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maker
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| n.制造者，制造商 | |
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enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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avidly
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| adv.渴望地，热心地 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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rekindling
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| v.使再燃( rekindle的现在分词 ) | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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scrutinizing
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的现在分词 ) | |
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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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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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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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singed
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| v.浅表烧焦( singe的过去式和过去分词 )；（毛发）燎，烧焦尖端[边儿] | |
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99
insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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101
lamented
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| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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102
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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103
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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104
shard
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| n.（陶瓷器、瓦等的）破片，碎片 | |
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105
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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106
flicking
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的现在分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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107
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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108
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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109
frustration
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| n.挫折，失败，失效，落空 | |
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110
engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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111
slanted
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| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
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112
wring
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| n.扭绞；v.拧，绞出，扭 | |
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113
inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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114
unprecedented
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| adj.无前例的，新奇的 | |
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115
hopping
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| n. 跳跃 动词hop的现在分词形式 | |
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116
giggling
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
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117
sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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118
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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