The sun was coming up: The pure, colorless vastness of the sky stretched over him, indifferent to him and his suffering. Harry1 sat down in the tent entrance and took a deep breath of clean air. Simply to be alive to watch the sun rise over the sparkling snowy hillside ought to have been the greatest treasure on earth, yet he could not appreciate it: His senses had been spiked2 by the calamity3 of losing his want. He looked out over a valley blanketed in snow, distant church bells chiming through the glittering silence.
Without realizing it, he was digging his fingers into his arms as if he were trying to resist physical pain. He had spilled his own blood more times than he could count; he had lost all bones in his right arm once; this journey had already given him scars to his chest and forearm to join those on his hand and forehead, but never, until this moment, had he felt himself to be fatally weakened, vulnerable, and naked, as though the best part of his magical power had been torn from him. He knew exactly what Hermione would say if he expressed any of this: The wand is only as good as the wizard. But she was wrong, his case was different. She had not felt the wand spin like the needle of a compass and shoot golden flames at his enemy. He had lost the protection of the twin cores, and only now that it was gone did he realize how much he had been counting on it.
He pulled the pieces of the broken wand out of his pocket and, without looking at them, tucked them away in Hagrid’s pouch4 around his neck. The pouch was now too full of broken and useless objects to take any more. Harry’s hand brushed the old Snitch through the moleskin and for a moment he had to fight the temptation to pull it out and throw it away. Impenetrable, unhelpful, useless, like everything else Dumbledore had left behind –
And his fury at Dumbledore broke over him now like lava5, scorching6 him inside, wiping out every other feeling. Out of sheer desperation they had talked themselves into believing that Godric’s Hollow held answers, convinced themselves that they were supposed to go back, that it was all part of some secret path laid out for them by Dumbledore: but there was no map, no plan. Dumbledore had left them to grope in the darkness, to wrestle7 with unknown and undreamed-of terrors, alone and unaided: Nothing was explained, nothing was given freely, they had no sword, and now, Harry had no wand. And he had dropped the photograph of the thief, and it would surely be easy now for Voldemort to find out who he was…
Voldemort had all the information now…
“Harry?”
Hermione looked frightened that he might curse her with her own wand. Her face streaked8 with tears, she crouched9 down beside him, two cups of tea trembling in her hands and something bulky under her arm.
“Thanks,” he said, taking one of the cups.
“Do you mind if I talk to you?”
“No,” he said because he did not want to hurt her feelings.
“Harry, you wanted to know who that man in the picture was. Well… I’ve got the book.”
Timidly she pushed it onto his lap, a pristine10 copy of The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore.
“Where – how –?”
“It was in Bathilda’s sitting room, just lying there…. This note was sticking out of the top of it.”
Hermione read the few lines of spiky11, acid-green writing aloud.
“‘Dear Bally, Thanks for your help. Here’s a copy of the book, hope you like it. You said everything, even if you don’t remember it. Rita.’
I think it must have arrived while the real Bathilda was alive, but perhaps she wasn’t in any fit state to read it?“
“No, she probably wasn’t.”
Harry looked down upon Dumbledore’s face and experienced a surge of savage12 pleasure: Now he would know if all the things that Dumbledore had never thought it worth telling him, whether Dumbledore wanted him to or not.
“You’re still really angry at me, aren’t you?” said Hermione; he looked up to see fresh tears leaking out of her eyes, and knew that his anger must have shown in his face.
“No,” he said quietly. “No, Hermione, I know it was an accident. You were trying to get us out of there alive, and you were incredible. I’d be dead if you hadn’t been there to help me.”
He tried to return her watery13 smile, then turned his attention to the book. Its spine14 was stiff; it had clearly never been opened before. He riffled through the pages, looking for photographs. He came across the one he sought almost at once, the young Dumbledore and his handsome companion, roaring with laughter at some long-forgotten joke. Harry dropped his eyes to the caption15.
Albus Dumbledore, shortly after his mother’s death, With his friend Gellert Grindelwald.
Harry gaped16 at the last word for several long moments. Grindelwald. His friend Grindelwald. He looked sideways at Hermione, who was still contemplating17 the name as though she could not believe her eyes. Slowly she looked up at Harry.
“Grindelwald!“
Ignoring the remainder of the photographs, Harry searched the pages around them for a recurrence19 of that fatal name. He soon discovered it and read greedily, but became lost: It was necessary to go farther back to make sense of it all, and eventually he found himself at the start of a chapter entitled “The Greater Good.” Together, he and Hermione started to read:
Now approaching his eighteenth birthday, Dumbledore left Hogwarts in a blaze of glory – Head Boy, Prefect, Winner of the Barnabus Finkley Prize for Exceptional Spell-Casting, British Youth Representative to the Wizengamot, Gold Medal-Winner for Ground-Breaking Contribution to the International Alchemical Conference in Cairo. Dumbledore intended, next, to take a Grand Tour with Elphias “Dogbreath” Doge, the dim-witted but devoted20 sidekick he had picked up at school.
The two young men were staying at the Leaky Cauldron in London, preparing to depart for Greece the following morning, when an owl18 arrived bearing news of Dumbledore’s mother’s death. “Dogbreath” Doge, who refused to be interviewed for this book, has given the public his own sentimental21 version of what happened next. He represents Kendra’s death as a tragic22 blow, and Dumbledore’s decision to give up his expedition as an act of noble self-sacrifice.
Certainly Dumbledore returned to Godric’s Hollow at once, supposedly to “care” for his younger brother and sister. But how much care did he actually give them?
“He were a head case, that Aberforth,” said Enid Smeek, whose family lived on the outskirts23 of Godric’s Hollow at that time. “Ran wild. ‘Course, with his mum and dad gone you’d have felt sorry for him, only he kept chucking goat dung at my head. I don’t think Albus was fussed about him. I never saw them together, anyway.”
So what was Albus doing, if not comforting his wild young brother? The answer, it seems, is ensuring the continued imprisonment24 of his sister. For though her first jailer had died, there was no change in the pitiful condition of Ariana Dumbledore. Her very existence continued to be known only to those few outsiders who, like “Dogbreath” Doge, could be counted upon to believe in the story of her “ill health.”
Another such easily satisfied friend of the family was Bathilda Bagshot, the celebrated25 magical historian who has lived in Godric’s Hollow for many years. Kendra, of course, had rebuffed Bathilda when she first attempted to welcome the family to the village. Several years later, however, the author sent an owl to Albus at Hogwarts, having been favorably impressed by his paper on trans-species transformation26 in Transfiguration Today. This initial contract led to acquaintance with the entire Dumbledore family. At the time of Kendra’s death, Bathilda was the only person in Godric’s Hollow who was on speaking terms with Dumbledore’s mother.
Unfortunately, the brilliance27 that Bathilda exhibited earlier in her life has now dimmed. “The fire’s lit, but the cauldron’s empty,” as Ivor Dillonsby put it to me, or, in Enid Smeek’s slightly earthier phrase, “She’s nutty as squirrel poo.” Nevertheless, a combination of tried-and-tested reporting techniques enabled me to extract enough nuggets of hard fact to string together the whole scandalous story.
Like the rest of the Wizarding world, Bathilda puts Kendra’s premature28 death down to a backfiring charm, a story repeated by Albus and Aberforth in later years. Bathilda also parrots the family line on Ariana, calling her “frail” and “delicate.” On one subject, however, Bathilda is well worth the effort I put into procuring29 Veritaserum, for she, and she alone, knows the full story of the best-kept secret of Albus Dumbledore’s life. Now revealed for the first time, it calls into question everything that his admirers believed of Dumbledore: his supposed hatred30 of the Dark Arts, his opposition31 into the oppression of Muggles, even his devotion to his own family.
The very same summer that Dumbledore went home to Godric’s Hollow, now an orphan32 and head of the family, Bathilda Bagshot agreed to accept into her home her great-nephew, Gellert Grindelwald.
The name of Grindelwald is justly famous: In a list of Most Dangerous Dark Wizards of All Time, he would miss out on the top spot only because You- Know-Who arrived, a generation later, to steal his crown. As Grindelwald never extended his campaign of terror to Britain, however, the details of his rise to power are not widely known here.
Educated at Durmstrang, a school famous even then for its unfortunate tolerance33 of the Dark Arts, Grindelwald showed himself quite as precociously34 brilliant as Dumbledore. Rather than channel his abilities into the attainment35 of awards and prizes, however, Gellert Grindelwald devoted himself to other pursuits. At sixteen years old, even Durmstrang felt it could no longer turn a blind eye to the twisted experiments of Gellert Grindelwald, and he was expelled.
Hitherto, all that has been known of Grindelwald’s next movements is that he “traveled around for some months.” It can now be revealed that Grindelwald chose to visit his great-aunt in Godric’s Hollow, and that there, intensely shocking though it will be for many to hear it, he struck up a close friendship with none other than Albus Dumbledore.
“He seemed a charming boy to me,” babbles36 Bathilda, “whatever he became later. Naturally I introduced him to poor Albus, who was missing the company of lads his own age. The boys took to each other at once.”
They certainly did. Bathilda shows me a letter, kept by her that Albus Dumbledore sent Gellert Grindelwald in the dead of night.
“Yes, even after they’d spent all day in discussion – both such brilliant young boys, they got on like a cauldron on fire – I’d sometimes hear an owl tapping at Gellert’s bedroom window, delivering a letter from Albus! An idea would have struck him and he had to let Gellert know immediately!”
And what ideas they were. Profoundly shocking though Albus Dumbledore’s fans will find it, here are the thoughts of their seventeen-year-old hero, as relayed to his new best friend. (A copy of the original letter may be seen on page 463.)
Gellert –
Your point about Wizard dominance being FOR THE MUGGLES’ OWN GOOD – this, I think, is the crucial point. Yes, we have been given power and yes, that power gives us the right to rule, but it also gives us responsibilities over the ruled. We must stress this point, it will be the foundation stone upon which we build. Where we are opposed, as we surely will be, this must be the basis of all our counterarguments. We seize control FOR THE GREATER GOOD. And from this it follows that where we meet resistance, we must use only the force that is necessary and no more. (This was your mistake at Durmstrang! But I do not complain, because if you had not been expelled, we would never have met.)
Albus
Astonished and appalled37 though his many admirers will be, this letter constitutes the Statute38 of Secrecy39 and establishing Wizard rule over Muggles. What a blow for those who have always portrayed40 Dumbledore as the Muggle-borns’ greatest champion! How hollow those speeches promoting Muggle rights seem in the light of this damning new evidence! How despicable does Albus Dumbledore appear, busy plotting his rise to power when he should have been mourning his mother and caring for his sister!
No doubt those determined41 to keep Dumbledore on his crumbling42 pedestal will bleat43 that he did not, after all, put his plans into action, that he must have suffered a change of heart, that he came to his senses. However, the truth seems altogether more shocking.
Barely two months into their great new friendship, Dumbledore and Grindelwald parted, never to see each other again until they met for their legendary44 duel45 (for more, see chapter 22). What caused this abrupt46 rupture47? Had Dumbledore come to his senses? Had he told Grindelwald he wanted no more part in his plans? Alas48, no.
“It was poor little Ariana dying, I think, that did it,” says Bathilda. “It came as an awful shock. Gellert was there in the house when it happened, and he came back to my house all of a dither, told me he wanted to go home the next day. Terribly distressed49, you know. So I arranged a Portkey and that was the last I saw of him.”
“Albus was beside himself at Ariana’s death. It was so dreadful for those two brothers. They had lost everybody except for each other. No wonder tempers ran a little high. Aberforth blamed Albus, you know, as people will under these dreadful circumstances. But Aberforth always talked a little madly, poor boy. All the same, breaking Albus’s nose at the funeral was not decent. It would have destroyed Kendra to see her sons fighting like that, across her daughter’s body. A shame Gellert could not have stayed for the funeral…. He would have been a comfort to Albus, at least….
This dreadful coffin-side brawl50, known only to those few who attended Ariana Dumbledore’s funeral, raises several questions. Why exactly did Aberforth Dumbledore blame Albus for his sister’s death? Was it, as “Batty” pretends, a mere51 effusion of grief? Or could there have been some more concrete reason for his fury? Grindelwald, expelled from Durmstrang for the near-fatal attacks upon fellow students, fled the country hours after the girl’s death, and Albus (out of shame or fear?) never saw him again, not until forced to do so by the pleas of the Wizarding world.
Neither Dumbledore nor Grindelwald ever seems to have referred to this brief boyhood friendship in later life. However, there can be no doubt that Dumbledore delayed, for some five years of turmoil52, fatalities53, and disappearances54, his attack upon Gellert Grindelwald. Was it lingering affection for the man or fear of exposure as his once best friend that caused Dumbledore to hesitate? Was it only reluctantly that Dumbledore set out to capture the man he was once so delighted he had met?
And how did the mysterious Ariana die? Was she the inadvertent victim of some Dark rite55? Did she stumble across something she ought not to have done, as the two young men sat practicing for their attempt at glory and domination? Is it possible that Ariana Dumbledore was the first person to die “for the greater good”?
The chapter ended here and Harry looked up. Hermione had reached the bottom of the page before him. She tugged56 the book out of Harry’s hands, looking a little alarmed by his expression, and closed it without looking at it, as though hiding something indecent.
“Harry –”
But he shook his head. Some inner certainty had crashed down inside him; it was exactly as he had felt after Ron left. He had trusted Dumbledore, believed him the embodiment of goodness and wisdom. All was ashes: How much more could he lose? Ron, Dumbledore, the phoenix57 wand…
“Harry.” She seemed to have heard his thoughts. “Listen to me. It – it doesn’t make a very nice reading –”
“Yeah, you could say that –”
“– but don’t forget, Harry, this is Rita Skeeter writing.”
“You did read that letter to Grindelwald, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I – I did.” She hesitated, looking upset, cradling her tea in her cold hands. “I think that’s the worst bit. I know Bathilda thought it was all just talk, but ‘For the Greater Good’ became Grindelwald’s slogan, his justification58 for all the atrocities59 he committed later. And… from that… it looks like Dumbledore gave him the idea. They say ‘For the Greater Good’ was even carved over the entrance to Nurmengard.”
“What’s Nurmengard?”
“The prison Grindelwald had built to hold his opponents. He ended up in there himself, once Dumbledore had caught him. Anyway, it’s – it’s an awful thought that Dumbledore’s ideas helped Grindelwald rise to power. But on the other hand, even Rita can’t pretend that they knew each other for more than a few months one summer when they were both really young, and –”
“I thought you’d say that,” said Harry. He did not want to let his anger spill out at her, but it was hard to keep his voice steady. “I thought you’d say ‘They were young.’ They were the same age as we are now. And here we are, risking our lives to fight the Dark Arts, and there he was, in a huddle60 with his new best friend, plotting their rise to power over the Muggles.”
His temper would not remain in check much longer: He stood up and walked around, trying to work some of it off.
“I’m not trying to defend what Dumbledore wrote,” said Hermione. “All that ‘right to rule’ rubbish, it’s ‘Magic Is Might’ all over again. But Harry, his mother had just died, he was stuck alone in the house –”
“Alone? He wasn’t alone! He had his brother and sister for company, his Squib sister he was keeping locked up –”
“I don’t believe it,” said Hermione. She stood up too. “Whatever was wrong with that girl, I don’t think she was a Squib. The Dumbledore we knew would never, ever have allowed–”
“The Dumbledore we thought we knew didn’t want to conquer Muggles by force!” Harry shouted, his voice echoing across the empty hilltop, and several blackbirds rose into the air, squawking and spiraling against the pearly sky.
“He changed, Harry, he changed! It’s as simple as that! Maybe he did believe these things when he was seventeen, but the whole of the rest of his life was devoted to fighting the Dark Arts! Dumbledore was the one who stopped Grindelwald, the one who always voted for Muggle protection and Muggle born rights, who fought You-Know-Who from the start, and who died trying to bring him down!”
Rita’s book lay on the ground between them, so that the face of Albus Dumbledore smiled dolefully at both.
“Harry, I’m sorry, but I think the real reason you’re so angry is that Dumbledore never told you any of this himself.”
“Maybe I am!” Harry bellowed61, and he flung his arms over his head, hardly knowing whether he was trying to hold in his anger or protect himself from the weight of his own disillusionment. “Look what he asked from me, Hermione! Risk your life, Harry! And again! And again! And don’t expect me to explain everything, just trust me blindly, trust that I know what I’m doing, trust me even though I don’t trust you! Never the whole truth! Never!”
His voice cracked with the strain, and they stood looking at each other in the whiteness and emptiness, and Harry felt they were as insignificant62 as insects beneath that wide sky.
“He loved you,” Hermione whispered. “I know he loved you.”
Harry dropped his arms.
“I don’t know who he loved, Hermione, but it was never me. This isn’t love, the mess he’s left me in. He shared a damn sight more of what he was really thinking with Gellert Grindelwald than he ever shared with me.”
Harry picked up Hermione’s wand, which he had dropped in the snow, and sat back down in the entrance of the tent.
“Thanks for the tea. I’ll finish the watch. You get back in the warm.” She hesitated, but recognized the dismissal. She picked up the book and then walked back past him into the tent, but as she did so, she brushed the top of his head lightly with her hand. He closed his eyes at her touch, and hated himself for wishing that what she said was true: that Dumbledore had really cared.
太阳出来了：哈利头顶上是一片纯洁无色的广袤天空。但这对他此时所处的困境无关紧要。哈利坐在帐篷门口，深吸了一口新鲜空气。能像这样活着，在闪着光芒的白雪皑皑的山坡上看日出，应该是世界上最美好的事了，但是他却无心欣赏这些。他还沉浸在失去魔杖的那场灾难中。他俯视着被白雪覆盖的山谷，远处教堂的钟声打破了沉寂。
他的手指不自觉地狠狠掐住自己的胳膊，像是在尝试着减轻痛楚一样。他以前不知流过多少次血；有一次还失去了右臂的骨头；他的手臂和额头原本就有伤，这次的旅途又给他胸口和前臂添了新的伤疤，但他以前从未感到像现在这样极度虚弱，手无缚鸡之力又无依无靠，似乎他身上最强的魔力都消失了。他非常了解如果赫敏听到他形容现在的境况会怎么说：魔杖和它的主人一样棒。但是她错了，他的情况不一样。她不懂那种魔杖像指南针的指针一般旋转，在敌人的身上击出金色的火花的感觉。他失去了孪生魔杖的保护，直到现在魔杖没了他才知道这对他来说有多重要。
他从口袋里掏出了魔杖的碎片，看都没看就塞进了挂在他脖子上海格送的小袋子里。现在这个袋子太满了，再也装不了那些破烂没用的东西。哈利的手在布袋里摸索着旧的金色飞贼，心里斗争了好半天，才痛下决心把它取出来扔了。就像邓布利多留给他的所有那些难以参透，毫无帮助，没用的东西一样。
此时他对邓布利多的愤怒如火山爆发，怒火在他心里灼烧着，并取代了其他一切情感。绝望迫使他们让自己相信答案就在高椎克山谷，相信他们应该回去——相信那是邓布利多留给他们的仅有的一些秘密线索；但是没有地图，没有计划。邓布利多让他们独自在黑暗中摸索，和未知的无法想象的对手斗争，孤独无援：没有任何原因，而且付出了惨重的代价，他们没有武器，哈利又失去了魔杖。他还丢失了小偷的照片，现在对于伏地魔来说发现他是谁是再简单不过的事情。
伏地魔已经得到了所有信息。
“哈利？”
赫敏看上去很害怕哈利会用她的魔杖来诅咒她。她的脸上都是泪痕，她在哈利身后蜷伏着，握着两杯热茶的手在发抖，在她的胳膊下还夹着个什么大东西。
“谢谢，”哈利说，接过一杯热茶。
“我能跟你说会儿话吗？”
“不，”他这么说因为他不想伤害赫敏·
“哈利，你想知道照片上的人是谁，好吧——我有这本书。”
她胆怯的把书放到他的大腿上。是一件简装的书——阿不……邓布利多的一生与谎言。
“在哪…你怎么会有这本书…?”
“我是在巴希达的起居室找到的，就在那放着……这张纸在放在书的最上面。”
赫敏大声地读着尖刻的，带有讽刺意味的开头几行。
“‘亲爱的巴利，谢谢你的帮助，这是书的复制版，希望你会喜欢它。可能你不记得了，但你确实讲了很多事情。丽塔。’我觉得在真正的巴希达活着的时候这书就已经在这里了，但也许她没有仔细读过？”
“嗯，我想也是这样。”
哈利低头看着邓布利多的脸，感到一阵狂野的快乐：现在邓布利多管不着了，他将知道那些他永远都不会对他提起的事。
“你还在生我的气，对吗？”赫敏说；他抬头看到她的眼睛又湿了，就知道自己的怒气一定是表现在脸上了。
“不是的，”他静静地说。“不，赫敏，我知道那是个意外。你试图让我们活着离开那里，你实在是太好了，如果那时你没有帮我，我早就死了。”
他向赫敏挂着眼泪的笑脸报以微笑，然后把注意力都放在了书上。书脊还很硬，显然从未被打开过。他飞快地翻着书页寻找照片，立刻就找到了一张——年轻的邓布利多和他帅气的伙伴因某个早就被遗忘了的笑话暴笑着。哈利的目光停留在了说明上。
阿不思·邓布利多，在母亲去世不久后和他的朋友吉莱特·格林沃德
哈利目瞪口呆地看了最后几个字很久——格林沃德。他的朋友格林沃德。他看了看在一旁的赫敏，她还凝视着那名字，似乎无法相信自己的眼睛。慢慢地她转向哈利。
“格林沃德！”
无视其他的照片，哈利翻起书来想要再次找到那个让他窒息的名字。他很快就找到了并且迫不及待的读起来，但是根本看不懂：必须要翻前面的内容才能知道在说什么，最终他找到这么一章：
“伟大的善行。”他和赫敏马上开始读了起来：
眼看就要到他十八岁的生日了，邓布利多带着一系列令人瞠目的光辉荣耀离开了霍格沃茨——全优的学习成绩，学生会主席，巴纳巴斯芬克利特殊贡献奖得主，驻威森加摩的英国青年魔法师代表，开罗举行的国际炼金术会议上被授予的开拓性贡献奖金奖等等。按照原定计划，他本打算毕业后和他在学校时结识的好友，绰号“狗喘”的埃非亚·多戈一起去进行一次伟大的旅行。
但就在他们两个在伦敦的破釜酒吧准备前往希腊旅行的前一天，猫头鹰却带来了邓布利多母亲逝世的噩耗。“狗喘”多戈，这个拒绝接受本书作者采访的家伙，向公众介绍了接下来所发生的悲伤情景。他描述说，凯德拉的死无异于一场晴天霹雳，而深受打击的邓布利多也毅然放弃了那次酝酿已久的长途旅行。
邓布利多随后马上动身返回他在高锥克山谷的家，赶去“照顾”他那尚在年幼的弟弟和妹妹。但事实上，他又给了他们多少真正意义上的照顾呢？
“他绝对是个让人头痛的家伙，那个阿不福思，”当时家住高锥克山谷边的艾力德史密克描述说，“他变得越来越没教养了，诚然，你会很同情这样一个父母双亡的孤儿，而他整天头顶着那破帽子的样子更会让你觉得他可怜。但我并不认为阿不思对此觉得有什么不妥。话说回来，我根本就很少见到他们兄弟俩在一起。”
如果此时的阿不思没有在照料他那年幼的弟弟的话，那他又在干什么呢？我想，那个最可能的答案就是，他在一如既往的看押着他的妹妹。因此，虽然软禁阿瑞娜的首犯已经去世，但邓布利多的出现，却并没有让她的处境得到丝毫的改观。她的存在依旧只有像“狗喘”多戈这样极少数的外人知晓。而其他更多的人只是被“她身体欠佳”这样的借口所搪塞。
另一个知道内情的家庭是巴希达·巴沙特一家，没错，就是那个在高锥克山谷隐居多年的著名历史学家。
凯德拉，当然，她在刚搬到这个镇上的时候甚至没有理睬巴希达对他们家到来所表示的欢迎，然而，许多年后，巴希达给尚在霍格沃茨读书的阿不思派去了一只猫头鹰，就他创作的在《今日变形》上发表关于物种转化的论文进行一些交流。恰恰就从这次接触开始，她和邓布利多一家渐渐熟悉起来。直到凯德拉去世时，巴希达仍是高锥克山谷中仅有的和邓布利多太太关系尚可的人。
不幸的是，巴希达当年的风采现在已不复存在，“她把火生了起来，但锅里居然还什么东西都没放，”
艾弗·狄龙斯贝告诉我说，还有，艾力德史密克略显粗鲁的跟我描述，“她现在迟钝地就像个被松鼠藏起来的坚果。”尽管如此，我还是通过各种方法从她那里搜集到了足够多的细节资料，使我能够将这整个事件的真相串联起来。
像巫师界的其他人一样，巴希达把凯德拉的突然去世归结于一场魔咒走火，在以后的几年里，阿不思和阿不福斯也是这么说的。巴希达还提到了邓布利多家的阿瑞娜，说她“身体虚弱”而且“弱不禁风”。然而在这个问题上，我对巴希达用的吐真剂让我了解到了更有意思的东西，因为她，而且只有她知道阿不思·邓布利多生命中所有那些不为人知的秘密。而这些首度批露的内幕，必将使所有他的崇拜者对他产生质疑：他对黑魔法的憎恨，反对镇压麻瓜，甚至对家庭的奉献，所有这些都只是假象。
那年夏天，当邓布利多回到高锥克山谷的家以后，就成为了一个孤儿家庭的支柱，巴希达·巴沙特经常把阿不思接到她家里来玩。在那里，他第一次看到了她的侄孙，吉莱特·格林沃德。
格林沃德的名字应该很著名了：一直都位于最危险的黑巫师名单的前列，而他没有排在名单首位的原因，只是因为后来“神秘人”的出现，抢走了本应属于他的这份殊荣。格林沃德的魔爪没有从未触及到英国，所以他发迹的过程也就并不广为人知。
格林沃德毕业于德姆斯特朗，那是一座因纵容黑魔法而臭名昭著的学校，他像邓布利多一样年纪轻轻就表现出了极高的魔法天赋。然而他并没有把精力耗在追求获得荣誉和奖章上，他对此毫无兴趣。在他16岁的时候，德姆斯特朗发现不能再对吉莱特·格林沃德乱七八糟的实验熟视无睹了，于是把他开除了。
迄今为止，可考证的关于格林沃德的接下来的记录是他“用几个月的时间周游各地”。而现在可以推测出格林沃德选择了去拜访他住在高锥克山谷的伯祖母，而他在那里收获的，相信很多人听到后会大吃一惊，不是其它东西，正是和阿不思·邓布利多建立的亲密的友谊。
“在我眼里他绝对是一个迷人的男孩，”
巴希达嘀咕着，“无论他后来变成了什么样。很自然的，我把他介绍给了可怜的阿不思，这个过早的品尝了人世沧桑的孩子。这俩男孩一见如故。
就是这样的。巴希达给我看了一封信，是在夜深人静时阿不思·邓布利多寄给吉莱特·格林沃德的，一直保存在她那里。
“是的，他们认识后就整天有聊不完的话题——两个才华横溢的年轻人，他们相见恨晚——我经常听到有猫头鹰从吉莱特的窗户飞进飞出，那肯定是和阿不思在通信！一定他又有了什么新的点子，而且还迫不及待的想和吉莱特分享。”
那么他们的新点子又是什么呢？阿不思·邓布利多的忠实拥趸们也许会觉得这些消息耸人听闻，那没关系，就让我们一起来看看他们心中那位十七岁的英雄在和他的新朋友讨论的话题吧（原信的复制品请参见463页）
吉莱特——
你对于巫师界统治是“为了麻瓜自己好”这一观点，我觉得是一个关键点。是的，我们被赋予了权力，而且毫无疑问的，这个权力可以使我们制定规则，但同样要求我们拥有对规则的责任感。我们必须强调这一点，它是我们事业的基石。当我们观点有冲突的时候——那是一定会有的，它必须是我们辩论的基点。我们要紧紧抓住“为了伟大的善行”这一信念。从这点出发，如果我们以后遇到抵抗，我们只需使用武力镇压而非别的什么，而且，这是很必要的。（这就是你在德姆斯特朗犯的错误！但是我不会责怪你，因为如果你没被开除，我们永远不可能认识。）
阿不思
阿不思的崇拜者肯定会惊讶万分，这封信制定了秘密的法令，并建立了巫师界对麻瓜的统治规则；这对于那些一直为邓布利多大唱高调的人是多么沉重的打击——他们还把邓布利多当作麻瓜权益最伟大的捍卫者！在这确凿的证据前，那些有关如何维护麻瓜权利的冠冕堂皇的言辞又显得多么的苍白无力！邓布利多的形象是多么的可鄙，当他本应为母亲服丧并照顾弟妹的时候，他却正忙于策划如何扩大他的权利！
毫无疑问，那些最后的拥护邓布利多的卫道士可能会说他不会，至少，他肯定是在经历了思想斗争之后，改变了他的想法，从而并没有付诸行动啊。然而，接下来的事实更加骇人听闻。
在他们那新份友谊建立仅仅两个月后，邓布利多和格林沃德就分开了，从此再没有见面，而他们的再次相会居然就是那场举世闻名的世纪大决斗（详情请参看22章）。是什么让他们反目成仇，不共戴天？是邓布利多良心发现吗？还是他告诉格林沃德他不想再进行他的计划了？唉，都不是。
“我认为是可怜的阿瑞娜的死导致的，”
巴希达说。“她的死是一个沉重的打击。事情发生时吉莱特正住在这里，他浑身颤抖的跑到我房间里，告诉我他明天想回家。神情非常难过。所以我给了他门钥匙，那就是我最后一次见到他。
阿瑞娜的死让阿不思濒临崩溃。这对于兄弟俩来说太可怕了。他们除了彼此以外失去了所有亲人。心性变得暴躁也就不足为奇了。阿不福思责怪阿不思，就像人们在可怕的情况下会做出的那样。但毕竟阿不福思说话一直都有点疯，这可怜的孩子。
但即便如此，他在葬礼上打断阿不思的鼻梁也实在是有些过分。凯德拉如果看到她的两个孩子打成那样会多么心痛，更何况还是在她女儿的尸体旁边。吉莱特没有呆到葬礼实在是很可惜……不然，他至少能宽慰一下阿不思……
这场棺材旁的激烈争吵，只有那些参加阿瑞娜·邓布利多葬礼的人才知道，他们产生了些疑问。阿不福思·邓布利多到底为什么因为他妹妹的死而不断谴责阿不思？是不是像“巴蒂”为他辩护的那样，仅仅是悲伤过度？或者还有更深层的原因导致他突然爆发？格林沃德由于对同学近乎致命的攻击而被德姆斯特朗开除，又在这个女孩神秘死亡之后匆匆从这里逃离，而阿不思（由于羞愧或害怕？）也再也没去见过他，直到被巫师界反复恳求而被迫迎战。
此后邓布利多和格林沃德似乎都没再提及那份短暂的少年时代的友谊。然而，毫无疑问，邓布利多在经历了五年的生离死别后，对吉莱特·格林沃德的攻击迟疑了。是不是那份挥之不去的友情或者害怕他们曾经是最好的朋友的事情暴光让邓布利多犹豫？是不是仅仅是因为邓布利多不人心亲手把他曾经情同莫逆的好友逮捕？
那么神秘的阿瑞娜究竟是怎么死的？她是不是某种黑魔法仪式无意中的牺牲品？她是不是偶然发现了她不该发现的事情，比如这两个年轻人为了攫取名誉和权利的勾当？有没有可能阿瑞娜·邓布利多就是那“为了伟大的善行”的第一个牺牲品？
这一章在这里结束了，哈利继续寻找着。赫敏比哈利先读完文章。她将这本书从哈利的手抢了过来，看到他的表情后有点惊慌，看都没看就把书合上了，好象想掩藏什么不妥的内容。
“哈利——”
但是他摇了摇头。有种信仰在他体内倒塌了；就像罗恩离开后他的感觉一样。他一直相信邓布利多，相信他就是善良和智慧的化身。一切都不复存在了：他还能承受失去更多么？罗恩，邓布利多，凤凰魔杖……
“哈利。”她看起来好象知道了他的想法。“听我说。这……这不是一本很好的书……”
“是的，你可以这么说……”
“……但是别忘了，哈利，这是丽塔·斯基特写的。”
“你读过了那封给格林沃德的信了，对吧？”
“是的，我……我读了。”她犹豫着，看上去很不安，用冰冷的双手捂着她的茶杯。
“我想这只是听起来最糟糕的部分而已。我想巴希达认为那仅仅是谈话，但是‘为了伟大的善行’成为了格林沃德的信条，成为他后来犯下残暴罪行的正当理由。而且……从这点看……的确像是邓布利多的话给他的启示。他们说的‘为了伟大的善行’甚至刻在了努尔蒙德的入口处。”
“努尔蒙德是什么？”
“就是格林沃德建造的用来关押他的反对者的监狱。他自己就是死在那的，当邓布利多抓住他的时候。无论如何，这是……这是一个可怕的想法，邓布利多的主意帮助格林沃德达到了他的目的。但是另一方面，即使丽塔也不能撒谎说他俩在那个夏天只是认识彼此，毕竟他们还年轻，而且……”
“我就知道你会这么说，”哈利说。他不想让自己对她发脾气，但是他现在很难让自己的声音听起来若无其事。“我知道你会说‘他们还年轻’。他们那时和咱们现在的年龄一样。看看现在的我们，冒着生命危险去对抗黑暗势力，可再看看他，和他的新朋友同流合污，策划着建立他们对麻瓜的统治。”
他再也控制不住自己的情绪：他站起身来回走着，想要发泄一些愤怒。
“我不是想对这些有关邓布利多东西辩护，”赫敏说。“所有‘权利法则’都是幌子，是‘魔法才是力量’的重现。但是哈利，他的母亲刚死，他一个人在房间里承受这些……”
“一个人？他不是一个人！他有弟弟和妹妹为伴，他还把他那个哑炮妹妹关了起来……”
“我不相信，”赫敏也站了起来，争辩道，“无论他们怎么说那个女孩，我都不相信她会是个哑炮，我们认识的邓布利多决不会，决不会允许——”
“我们不也以为自己认识的邓布利多决不会企图用武力去征服麻瓜吗！”
哈利怒吼着，他的回音在空旷的山野回响，惊起不少山鸟，在迷蒙的夜空中鸣叫盘旋。
“他变了，哈利，他已经变好了！这很明显！也许在他十七岁时确实曾沉迷于此，但他耗尽之后的毕生精力来与黑魔法作斗争。是邓布利多击败了格林迪沃，是他一直致力于保护麻瓜和维护麻瓜出身巫师的权利，是他从一开始就与神秘人做着斗争，也是他最终为能击败神秘人而牺牲！”
丽塔的书就放在他俩之间，书上插图里的阿不思·邓布利多朝着他俩落寞地微笑着。
“哈利，我很遗憾，但我想你如此愤怒的真正原因其实是邓布利多从没告诉过你他的过去。”
“也许吧！”哈利爆发了，他猛地举起双臂，像是要把他无边的愤怒高高举起或者是在他幻想的重压之下保护自己，“看看他怎么跟我说的吧，赫敏：冒险牺牲吧，哈利，再来一次，再来一次，再来一次！别指望我给你解释任何东西，就去拼了你的小命相信我，相信我知道我在做什么，即使我不信任你你也得相信我！永远别想知道真相！永远别想知道！！”
哈利的声音已经在这歇斯底里的喊叫中变得沙哑，看着跟自己一样脸色煞白的赫敏，哈利突然觉得，在这广阔的天地之间，他们是那么渺小。
“他爱你，”赫敏低声说，“他真的爱你。”
哈利的胳膊无力的垂了下来。
“我真的不知道邓布利多曾经关心过谁，赫敏，但那个人绝对不会是我。这不是什么爱，只不过是他留给我的一个烂摊子，他宁愿把自己的真心话同吉莱特·格林沃德分享，而不是我。”
哈利捡起他刚刚扔到雪里的赫敏的魔杖，重新坐到了帐篷口。
“多谢你的茶，书我看完了，你也快回去暖和一下吧。”
赫敏犹豫了一下，但实在不知该说些什么，她拿起书从哈利身边钻进帐篷回去了。临走前，她用手轻轻梳理了一下哈利的头发。哈利闭上眼睛，感受着她的触摸：他多么希望赫敏说的是对的，邓布利多真的在乎过他……但就是因为这个想法，他更加的憎恨自己。
收听单词发音 |
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harry
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spiked
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calamity
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pouch
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lava
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scorching
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wrestle
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| vi.摔跤，角力；搏斗；全力对付 | |
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streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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crouched
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pristine
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spiky
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savage
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watery
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spine
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caption
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gaped
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contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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owl
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recurrence
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devoted
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sentimental
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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outskirts
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imprisonment
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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premature
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| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
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procuring
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的现在分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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tolerance
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| n.宽容；容忍，忍受；耐药力；公差 | |
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precociously
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| Precociously | |
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attainment
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| n.达到，到达；［常pl.］成就，造诣 | |
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babbles
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| n.胡言乱语( babble的名词复数 )；听不清的声音；乱哄哄的说话声v.喋喋不休( babble的第三人称单数 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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statute
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| n.成文法，法令，法规；章程，规则，条例 | |
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secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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portrayed
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| v.画像( portray的过去式和过去分词 )；描述；描绘；描画 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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bleat
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| v.咩咩叫，(讲)废话，哭诉；n.咩咩叫，废话，哭诉 | |
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legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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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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rupture
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| n.破裂；(关系的)决裂；v.(使)破裂 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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brawl
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| n.大声争吵，喧嚷；v.吵架，对骂 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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fatalities
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| n.恶性事故( fatality的名词复数 )；死亡；致命性；命运 | |
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disappearances
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| n.消失( disappearance的名词复数 )；丢失；失踪；失踪案 | |
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rite
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| n.典礼，惯例，习俗 | |
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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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phoenix
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| n.凤凰，长生(不死)鸟；引申为重生 | |
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justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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atrocities
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| n.邪恶，暴行( atrocity的名词复数 )；滔天大罪 | |
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huddle
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| vi.挤作一团；蜷缩；vt.聚集；n.挤在一起的人 | |
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bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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