It was like sinking into an old nightmare; for an instant Harry1 knelt again beside Dumbledore’s body at the foot of the tallest tower at Hogwarts, but in reality he was staring at a tiny body curled upon the grass, pierced by Bellatrix’s silver knife. Harry’s voice was still saying, “Dobby…Dobby…” even though he knew that the elf had gone where he could not call him back.
After a minute or so he realized that they had, after all, come to the right place, for here were Bill and Fleur, Dean and Luna, gathering2 around him as he knelt over the elf. “Hermione,” he said suddenly. “Where is she?”
“Ron’s taken her inside,” said Bill. “She’ll be all right.” Harry looked back down at Dobby. He stretched out a hand and pulled the sharp blade from the elf’s body, then dragged off his own jacket and covered Dobby in it like a blanket.
The sea was rushing against the rock somewhere nearby; Harry listened to it while the others talked, discussing matters in which he could take no interest, making decisions, Dean carried the injured Griphook into the house, Fleur hurrying with them; now Bill was really knowing what he was saying. As he did so, he gazed down at the tiny body, and his scar prickled and burned, and in one part of his mind, viewed as if from the wrong end of a long telescope, he saw Voldemort punishing those they had left behind at the Malfoy Manor3. His rage was dreadful and yet Harry’s grief for Dobby seemed to diminish it, so that it became a distant storm that reached Harry from across a vast, silent ocean.
“I want to do it properly,” were the first words of which Harry was fully4 conscious of speaking. “Not by magic. Have you got a spade?” And shortly afterward5 he had set to work, alone, digging the grave in the place that Bill had shown him at the end of the garden, between bushes. He dug with a kind of fury, relishing6 the manual work, glorying in the non-magic of it, for every drop of his sweat and every blister7 felt like a gift to the elf who had saved their lives.
His scar burned, but he was master of the pain, he felt it, yet was apart from it. He had learned control at last, learned to shut his mind to Voldemort, the very thing Dumbledore had wanted him to learn from Snape. Just as Voldemort had not been able to possess Harry while Harry was consumed with grief for Sirius, so his thoughts could not penetrate8 Harry now while he mourned Dobby. Grief, it seemed, drove Voldemort out…though Dumbledore, of course, would have said that it was love.
On Harry dug, deeper and deeper into the hard, cold earth, subsuming his grief in sweat, denying the pain in his scar. In the darkness, with nothing but the sound of his own breath and the rushing sea to keep him company, the things that had happened at the Malfoys’ returned to him, the things he had heard came back to him, and understanding blossomed in the darkness…
The steady rhythm of his arms beat time with his thoughts. Hallows…Horcruxes…Hallows…Horcruxes…yet no longer burned with that weird10, obsessive11 longing12. Loss and fear had snuffed it out. He felt as though he had been slapped awake again.
Deeper and deeper Harry sank into the grave, and he knew where Voldemort had been tonight, and whom he had killed in the topmost cell of Nurmengard, and why…
And he thought of Wormtail, dead because of one small unconscious impulse of mercy…Dumbledore had foreseen that…How much more had he known?
Harry lost track of time. He knew only that the darkness had lightened a few degrees when he was rejoined by Ron and Dean. “How’s Hermione?”
“Better,” said Ron. “Fleur’s looking after her.” Harry had his retort ready for when they asked him why he had not simply created a perfect grave with his wand, but he did not need it. They jumped down into the hole he had made with spades of their own and together they worked in silence until the hole seemed deep enough.
Harry wrapped the elf more snuggly in his jacket. Ron sat on the edge of the grave and stripped off his shoes and socks, which he placed on the elf’s bare feet. Dean produced a woolen13 hat, which Harry placed carefully upon Dobby’s head, muffling14 his batlike ears. “We should close his eyes.”
Harry had not heard the others coming through the darkness. Bill was wearing a traveling cloak, Fleur a large white apron15, from the pocket of which protruded16 a bottle of what Harry recognized to be Skele-Gro. Hermione was wrapped in a borrowed dressing17 gown, pale and unsteady on her feet; Ron put an arm around her when she reached him. Luna, who was huddled18 in one of Fleur’s coats, crouched19 down and placed her fingers tenderly upon each of the elf’s eyelids20, sliding them over his glassy stare. “There,” she said softly. “Now he could be sleeping.”
Harry placed the elf into the grave, arranged his tiny limbs so that he might have been resting, then climbed out and gazed for the last time upon the little body. He forced himself not to break down as he remembered Dumbledore’s funeral, and the rows and rows of golden chairs, and the Minister of Magic in the front row, the recitation of Dumbledore’s achievements, the stateliness of the white marble tomb. He felt that Dobby deserved just as grand a funeral, and yet here the elf lay between bushes in a roughly dug hole. “I think we ought to say something,” piped up Luna. “I’ll go first, shall I?”
And as everybody looked at her, she addressed the dead elf at the bottom of the grave. “Thank you so much Dobby for rescuing me from that cellar. It’s so unfair that you had to die when you were so good and brave. I’ll always remember what you did for us. I hope you’re happy now.”
She turned and looked expectingly at Ron, who cleared his throat and said in a thick voice, “yeah…thanks Dobby.”
“Thanks,” muttered Dean. Harry swallowed. “Good bye Dobby,” he said It was all he could manage, but Luna had said it all for him. Bill raised his wand, and the pile of earth beside the grave rose up into the air and fell neatly21 upon it, a small, reddish mound22. “D’ya mind if I stay here a moment?” He asked the others.
They murmured words he did not catch; he felt gentle pats upon his back, and then they all traipsed back toward the cottage, leaving Harry alone beside the elf.
He looked around: There were a number of large white stones, smoothed by the sea, marking the edge of the flower beds. He picked up one of the largest and laid it, pillowlike, over the place where Dobby’s head now rested. He then felt in his pocket for a wand. There were two in there. He had forgotten, lost track; he could not now remember whose wands these were; he seemed to remember wrenching23 them out of someone’s hand. He selected the shorter of the two, which felt friendlier in his hand, and pointed24 it at the rock.
Slowly, under his murmured instruction, deep cuts appeared upon the rock’s surface. He knew that Hermione could have done it more neatly, and probably more quickly, but he wanted to mark the spot as he had wanted to dig the grave. When Harry stood up again, the stone read: HERE LIES DOBBY, A FREE ELF.
He looked at his handiwork for a few more seconds, then walked away, his scar still prickling a little, and his mind full of those things that had come to him in the grave, ideas that had taken shape in the darkness, ideas both fascinating and terrible.
They were all sitting in the living room when he entered the little hall, their attention focused upon Bill, who was talking. The room was light-colored, pretty, with a small fire of driftwood burning brightly in the fireplace. Harry did not want to drop mud upon the carpet, so he stood in the doorway25, listening.
“…lucky that Ginny’s on holiday. If she’d been at Hogwarts they could have taken her before we reached her. Now we know she’s safe too.” He looked around and saw Harry standing9 there. “I’ve been getting them all out of the Burrow,” he explained. “Moved them to Muriel’s. The Death Eaters know Ron’s with you now, they’re bound to target the family – don’t apologize,” he added at the sight of Harry’s expression. “It was always a matter of time, Dad’s been saying so for months. We’re the biggest blood traitor26 family there is.”
“How are they protected?” asked Harry. “Fidelius Charm. Dad’s Secret-Keeper. And we’ve done it on this cottage too; I’m Secret-Keeper here. None of us can go to work, but that’s hardly the most important thing now. Once Ollivander and Griphook are well enough, we’ll move them to Muriel’s too. There isn’t much room here, but she’s got plenty. Griphook’s legs are on the mend. Fleur’s given him Skele-Growe could probably move them in an hour or – ”
“No,” Harry said and Bill looked startled. “I need both of them here. I need to talk to them. It’s important.” He heard the authority of his own voice, the conviction, the voice of purpose that had come to him as he dug Dobby’s grave. All of their faces were turned toward him looking puzzled.
“I’m going to wash,” Harry told Bill looking down at his hands still covered with mud and Dobby’s blood. “Then I’ll need to see them, straight away.” He walked into the little kitchen, to the basin beneath a window overlooking the sea. Dawn was breaking over the horizon, shell pink and faintly gold, as he washed, again following the train of thought that had come to him in the dark garden…
Dobby would never be able to tell them who had sent him to the cellar, but Harry knew what he had seen. A piercing blue eye had looked out of the mirror fragment, and then help had come. Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.
Harry dried his hands, impervious27 to the beauty of the scene outside the window and to the murmuring of the others in the sitting room. He looked out over the ocean and felt closer, this dawn, than ever before, closer to the heart of it all.
And still his scar prickled, and he knew that Voldemort was getting there too. Harry understood and yet did not understand. His instinct was telling him one thing, his brain quite another. The Dumbledore in Harry’s head smiled, surveying Harry over the tips of his fingers, pressed together as if in prayer.
You gave Ron the Deluminator…You understood him…You gave him a way back…
And you understood Wormtail too…You knew there was a bit of regret there, somewhere…
And if you knew them…What did you know about me, Dumbledore?
Am I meant to know but not to seek? Did you know how hard I’d feel that? Is that why you made it this difficult? So I’d have time to work that out?
Harry stood quite still, eyes glazed28, watching the place where a bright gold ray of dazzling sun was rising over the horizon. Then he looked down at his clean hands and was momentarily surprised to see the cloth he was holding in them. He set it down and returned to the hall, and as he did so, he felt his scar pulse angrily, and then flashed across his mind, swift as the reflection of a dragonfly over water, the outline of a building he knew extremely well.
Bill and Fleur were standing at the foot of the stairs.
“I need to speak to Griphook and Ollivander,” Harry said.
“No,” said Fleur. “You will ‘ave to wait, ‘Arry. Zey are both too tired – ”
“I’m sorry,” he said without heat, “but it can’t wait. I need to talk to them now. Privately29 – and separately. It’s urgent.”
“Harry, what the hell’s going on?” asked Bill. “You turn up here with a dead house-elf and a half-conscious goblin, Hermione looks as though she’s been tortured, and Ron’s just refused to tell me anything – ”
“We can’t tell you what we’re doing,” said Harry flatly. “You’re in the Order, Bill, you know Dumbledore left us a mission. We’re not supposed to talk about it to anyone else.”
Fleur made an impatient noise, but Bill did not look at her; he was staring at Harry. His deeply scarred face was hard to read. Finally, Bill said, “All right. Who do you want to talk to first?”
Harry hesitated. He knew what hung on his decision. There was hardly any time left; now was the moment to decide: Horcruxes or Hallows?
“Griphook,” Harry said. “I’ll speak to Griphook first.”
His heart was racing30 as if he had been sprinting31 and had just cleared an enormous obstacle.
“Up here, then,” said Bill, leading the way.
Harry had walked up several steps before stopping and looking back.
“I need you two as well!” he called to Ron and Hermione, who had been skulking32, half concealed34, in the doorway of the sitting room.
They both moved into the light, looking oddly relieved.
“How are you?” Harry asked Hermione. “You were amazing – coming up with that story when she was hurting you like that – ”
Hermione gave a weak smile as Ron gave her a one-armed squeeze.
“What are we doing now, Harry?” he asked.
“You’ll see. Come on.”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed Bill up the steep stairs onto a small landing. Three doors led off it.
“In here,” said Bill, opening the door into his and Fleur’s room, it too had a view of the sea, now flecked with gold in the sunrise. Harry moved to the window, turned his back on the spectacular view, and waited, his arms folded, his scar prickling. Hermione took the chair beside the dressing table; Ron sat on the arm.
Bill reappeared, carrying the little goblin, whom he set down carefully upon the bed. Griphook grunted35 thanks, and Bill left, closing the door upon them all.
“I’m sorry to take you out of bed,” said Harry. “How are your legs?”
“Painful,” replied the goblin. “But mending.”
He was still clutching the sword of Gryffindor, and wore a strange look: half truculent36, half intrigued37. Harry noted38 the goblin’s sallow skin, his long thin fingers, his black eyes. Fleur had removed his shoes: His long feet were dirty. He was larger than a house-elf, but not by much. His domed39 head was much bigger than a human’s.
“You probably don’t remember – ” Harry began.
“ – that I was the goblin who showed you to your vault40, the first time you ever visited Gringotts?” said Griphook. “I remember, Harry Potter. Even amongst goblins, you are very famous.”
Harry and the goblin looked at each other, sizing each other up. Harry’s scar was still prickling. He wanted to get through this interview with Griphook quickly, and at the same time was afraid of making a false move. While he tried to decide on the best way to approach his request, the goblin broke the silence.
“You buried the elf,” he said, sounding unexpectedly rancorous. “I watched you from the window of the bedroom next door.”
“Yes,” said Harry.
Griphook looked at him out of the corners of his slanting41 black eyes.
“You are an unusual wizard, Harry Potter.”
“In what way?” asked Harry, rubbing his scar absently.
“You dug the grave.”
“So?”
Griphook did not answer. Harry rather thought he was being sneered42 at for acting43 like a Muggle, but it did not matter to him whether Griphook approved of Dobby’s grave or not. He gathered himself for the attack.
“Griphook, I need to ask – ”
“You also rescued a goblin.”
“What?”
“You brought me here. Saved me.”
“Well, I take it you’re not sorry?” said Harry a little impatiently.
“No, Harry Potter,” said Griphook, and with one finger he twisted the thin black beard upon his chin, “but you are a very odd wizard.”
“Right,” said Harry. “Well, I need some help, Griphook, and you can give it to me.”
The goblin made no sign of encouragement, but continued to frown at Harry as though he had never seen anything like him.
“I need to break into a Gringotts vault.”
Harry had not meant to say it so badly: the words were forced from him as pain shot through his lightning scar and he saw, again, the outline of Hogwarts. He closed his mind firmly. He needed to deal with Griphook first. Ron and Hermione were staring at Harry as though he had gone mad.
“Harry – ” said Hermione, but she was cut off by Griphook.
“Break into a Gringotts vault?” repeated the goblin, wincing44 a little as he shifted his position upon the bed. “It is impossible.”
“No, it isn’t,” Ron contradicted him. “It’s been done.”
“Yeah,” said Harry. “The same day I first met you, Griphook. My birthday, seven years ago.”
“The vault in question was empty at the time,” snapped the goblin, and Harry understood that even though Griphook had let Gringotts, he was offended at the idea of its defenses being breached45. “Its protection was minimal46.”
“Well, the vault we need to get into isn’t empty, and I’m guessing its protection will be pretty powerful,” said Harry. “It belongs to the Lestranges.”
He saw Hermione and Ron look at each other, astonished, but there would be time enough to explain after Griphook had given his answer.
“You have no chance,” said Griphook flatly. “No chance at all. If you seek beneath our floors, a treasure that was never yours – ”
“Thief, you have been warned, beware – yeah, I know, I remember,” said Harry. “But I’m not trying to get myself any treasure, I’m not trying to take anything for personal gain. Can you believe that?”
The goblin looked slantwise at Harry, and the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead prickled, but he ignored it, refusing to acknowledge its pain or its invitation.
“If there was a wizard of whom I would believe that they did not seek personal gain,” said Griphook finally, “it would be you, Harry Potter. Goblins and elves are not used to the protection or the respect that you have shown this night. Not from wand-carriers.”
“Wand-carriers,” repeated Harry: The phrase fell oddly upon his ears as his scar prickled, as Voldemort turned his thoughts northward47, and as Harry burned to question Ollivander next door.
“The right to carry a wand,” said the goblin quietly, “has long been contested between wizards and goblins.”
“Well, goblins can do magic without wands,” said Ron.
“That is immaterial! Wizards refuse to share the secrets of wand-lore with other magical beings, they deny us the possibility of extending our powers!”
“Well, goblins won’t share any of their magic either,” said Ron. “You won’t tell us how to make swords and armor the way you do. Goblins know how to work metal in a way wizards have never – ”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Harry, noting Griphook’s rising color. “This isn’t about wizards versus48 goblins or any other sort of magical creature – ”
Griphook gave a nasty laugh.
“But it is, it is precisely49 that! As the Dark Lord becomes ever more powerful, your race is set still more firmly above mine! Gringotts falls under Wizarding rule, house-elves are slaughtered50, and who amongst the wand-carriers protests?”
“We do!” said Hermione. She had sat up straight, her eyes bright. “We protest! And I’m hunted quite as much as any goblin or elf, Griphook! I’m a Mudblood!”
“Don’t call yourself – ” Ron muttered.
“Why shouldn’t I?” said Hermione. “Mudblood, and proud of it! I’ve got no higher position under this new order than you have, Griphook! It was me they chose to torture, back at the Malfoys!”
As she spoke51, she pulled aside the neck of the dressing gown to reveal the thin cut Bellatrix had made, scarlet52 against her throat.
“Did you know that it was Harry who set Dobby free?” she asked. “Did you know that we’ve wanted elves to be freed for years?” (Ron fidgeted uncomfortably on the arm of Hermione’s chair.) “You can’t want You-Know-Who defeated more than we do, Griphook!”
The goblin gazed at Hermione with the same curiousity he had shown Harry.
“What do you seek within the Lestranges’ vault?” he asked abruptly53. “The sword that lies inside it is a fake. This is the real one.” He looked from one to the other of them. “I think that you already know this. You asked me to lie for you back there.”
“But the fake sword isn’t the only thing in that vault, is it?” asked Harry. “Perhaps you’ve seen other things in there?”
His heart was pounding harder than ever. He redoubled his efforts to ignore the pulsing of his scar.
The goblin twisted his beard around his finger again.
“It is against our code to speak of the secrets of Gringotts. We are the guardians54 of fabulous55 treasures. We have a duty to the objects placed in our care, which were, so often, wrought56 by our fingers.”
The goblin stroked the sword, and his black eyes roved from Harry to Hermione to Ron and then back again.
“So young,” he said finally, “to be fighting so many.”
“Will you help us?” said Harry. “We haven’t got a hope of breaking in without a goblin’s help. You’re our one chance.”
“I shall… think about it,” said Griphook maddeningly.
“But – ” Ron started angrily; Hermione nudged him in the ribs57.
“Thank you,” said Harry.
The goblin bowed his great domed head in acknowledgement, then flexed58 his short legs.
“I think,” he said, settling himself ostentatiously upon Bill and Fleur’s bed, “that the Skele-Gro has finished its work. I may be able to sleep at last. Forgive me….”
“Yeah, of course,” said Harry, but before leaving the room he leaned forward and took the sword of Gryffindor from beside the goblin. Griphook did not protest, but Harry thought he saw resentment59 in the goblin’s eyes as he closed the door upon him.
“Little git,” whispered Ron. “He’s enjoying keeping us hanging.”
“Harry,” whispered Hermione, pulling them both away from the door, into the middle of the still-dark landing, “are you saying what I think you’re saying? Are you saying there’s a Horcrux in the Lestranges vault?”
“Yes,” said Harry. “Bellatrix was terrified when she thought we’d been in there, she was beside herself. Why? What did she think we’d seen, what else did she think we might have taken? Something she was petrified60 You-Know-Who would find out about.”
“But I thought we were looking for places You-Know-Who’s been, places he’s done something important?” said Ron, looking baffled. “Was he ever inside the Lestranges’ vault?”
“I don’t know whether he was ever inside Gringotts,” said Harry. “He never had gold there when he was younger, because nobody left him anything. He would have seen the bank from the outside, though, the first time he ever went to Diagon Alley61.”
Harry’s scar throbbed62, but he ignored it; he wanted Ron and Hermione to understand about Gringotts before they spoke to Ollivander.
“I think he would have envied anyone who had a key to a Gringotts vault. I think he’d have seen it as a real symbol of belonging to the Wizarding world. And don’t forget, he trusted Bellatrix and her husband. They were his most devoted63 servants before he fell, and they went looking for him after he vanished. He said it might he came back, I heard him.”
Harry rubbed his scar.
“I don’t think he’d have told Bellatrix it was a Horcrux, though. He never told Lucius Malfoy the truth about the diary. He probably told her it was a treasured possession and asked her to place it in her vault. The safest place in the world for anything you want to hide, Hagrid told me… except for Hogwarts.”
When Harry had finished speaking, Ron shook his head.
“You really understand him.”
“Bits of him,” said Harry. “Bits… I just wish I’d understood Dumbledore as much. But we’ll see. Come on – Ollivander now.”
Ron and Hermione looked bewildered but very impressed as they followed him across the little landing and knocked upon the door opposite Bill and Fleur’s. A weak “Come in!” answered them.
The wandmaker was lying on the twin bed farthest from the window. He had been held in the cellar for more than a year, and tortured, Harry knew, on at least one occasion. He was emaciated64, the bones of his face sticking out sharply against the yellowish skin. His great silver eyes seemed vast in their sunken sockets65. The hands that lay upon the blanket could have belonged to a skeleton. Harry sat down on the empty bed, beside Ron and Hermione. The rising sun was not visible here. The room faced the cliff-top garden and the freshly dug grave.
“Mr. Ollivander, I’m sorry to disturb you,” Harry said.
“My dear boy,” Ollivander’s voice was feeble. “You rescued us, I thought we would die in that place, I can never thank you… never thank you… enough.”
“We were glad to do it.”
Harry’s scar throbbed. He knew, he was certain, that there was hardly any time left in which to beat Voldemort to his goal, or else to attempt to thwart66 him. He felt a flutter of panic… yet he had made his decision when he chose to speak to Griphook first. Feigning67 a calm he did not feel, he groped in the pouch68 around his neck and took out the two halves of his broken wand.
“Mr. Ollivander, I need some help.”
“Anything. Anything.” Said the wandmaker weakly.
“Can you mend this? Is it possible?”
Ollivander held out a trembling hand, and Harry placed the two barely connected halves in his palm.
“Holly and phoenix69 feather,” said Ollivander in a tremulous voice. “Eleven inches. Nice and supple70.”
“Yes,” said Harry. “Can you –?”
“No,” whispered Ollivander. “I am sorry, very sorry, but a wand that has suffered this degree of damage cannot be repaired by any means that I know of.”
Harry had been braced71 to hear it, but it was a blow nevertheless. He took the wand halves back and replaced them in the pouch around his neck. Ollivander stared at the place where the shattered wand had vanished, and did not look away until Harry had taken from his pocket the two wands he had brought from the Malfoys’.
“Can you identify these?” Harry asked.
The wandmaker took the first of the wands and held it close to his faded eyes, rolling it between his knobble-knuckled fingers, flexing72 it slightly.
“Walnut and dragon heartstring,” he said. “Twelve-and-three-quarter inches. Unyielding. This wand belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange.”
“And this one?”
Ollivander performed the same examination.
“Hawthorn and unicorn73 hair. Ten inches precisely. Reasonably springy. This was the wand of Draco Malfoy.”
“Was?” repeated Harry. “Isn’t it still his?”
“Perhaps not. If you took it – ”
“ – I did – ”
“ – then it may be yours. Of course, the manner of taking matters. Much also depends upon the wand itself. In general, however, where a wand has been won, its allegiance will change.”
There was a silence in the room, except for the distant rushing of the sea.
“You talk about wands like they’ve got feelings,” said Harry, “like they can think for themselves.”
“The wand chooses the wizard,” said Ollivander. “That much has always been clear to those of us who have studied wandlore.”
“A person can still use a wand that hasn’t chosen them, though?” asked Harry.
“Oh yes, if you are any wizard at all you will be able to channel your magic through almost any instrument. The best results, however, must always come where there is the strongest affinity74 between wizard and wand. These connections are complex. An initial attraction, and then a mutual75 quest for experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard from the wand.”
The sea gushed76 forward and backward; it was a mournful sound.
“I took this wand from Draco Malfoy by force,” said Harry. “Can I use it safely?”
“I think so. Subtle laws govern wand ownership, but the conquered wand will usually bend its will to its new master.”
“So I should use this one?” said Ron, pulling Wormtail’s wand out of his pocket and handing it to Ollivander.
“Chestnut and dragon heartstring. Nine-and-a-quarter inches. Brittle77. I was forced to make this shortly after my kidnapping, for Peter Pettigrew. Yes, if you won it, it is more likely to do your bidding, and do it well, than another wand.”
“And this holds true for all wands, does it?” asked Harry.
“I think so,” replied Ollivander, his protuberant78 eyes upon Harry’s face. “You ask deep questions, Mr. Potter. Wandlore is a complex and mysterious branch of magic.”
“So, it isn’t necessary to kill the previous owner to take the possession of a wand?” asked Harry.
Ollivander swallowed.
“Necessary? No, I should not say that it is necessary to kill.”
“There are legends, though,” said Harry, and as his heart rate quickened, the pain in his scar became more intense; he was sure that Voldemort has decided79 to put his idea into action. “Legends about a wand – or wands – that have been passed from hand to hand by murder.”
Ollivander turned pale. Against the snowy pillow he was light gray, and his eyes were enormous, bloodshot, and bulging80 with what looked like fear.
“Only one wand, I think,” he whispered.
“And You-Know-Who is interested in it, isn’t he?” asked Harry.
“I – how?” croaked81 Ollivander, and he looked appealingly at Ron and Hermione for help. “How do you know this?”
“He wanted you to tell him how to overcome the connection between our wands,” said Harry.
Ollivander looked terrified.
“He tortured me, you must understand that! The Cruciatus Curse, I – I had no choice but to tell him what I knew, what I guessed!”
“I understand,” said Harry. “You told him about the twin cores? You said he just had to borrow another wizard’s wand?”
Ollivander looked horrified82, transfixed, by the amount that Harry knew. He nodded slowly.
“But it didn’t work,” Harry went on. “Mine still beat the borrowed wand. Do you know why that is?”
Ollivander shook his head slowly as he had just nodded.
“I had… never heard of such a thing. Your wand performed something unique that night. The connection of the twin cores is incredibly rare, yet why your wand would have snapped the borrowed wand, I do not know….”
“We were talking about the other wand, the wand that changes hands by murder. When You-Know-Who realized my wand had done something strange, he came back and asked about that other wand, didn’t he?”
“How do you know this?”
Harry did not answer.
“Yes, he asked,” whispered Ollivander. “He wanted to know everything I could tell him about the wand variously known as the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny, or the Elder Wand.”
Harry glanced sideways at Hermione. She looked flabbergasted.
“The Dark Lord,” said Ollivander in hushed and frightened tones, “had always been happy with the wand I made him – yes and phoenix feather, thirteen-and-a-half inches. – until he discovered the connection of the twin cores. Now he seeks another, more powerful wand, as the only way to conquer yours.”
“But he’ll know soon, if he doesn’t already, that mine’s broken beyond repair,” said Harry quietly.
“No!” said Hermione, sounding frightened. “He can’t know that, Harry, how could he –?”
“Priori Incantatem,” said Harry. “We left your wand and the blackthorn wand at the Malfoys’, Hermione. If they examine them properly, make them re-create the spells they’ve cast lately, they’d see that yours broke mine, they’ll see that you tried and failed to mend it, and they’ll realize that I’ve been using the blackthorn one ever since.”
The little color she had regained83 since their arrival had drained from her face. Ron gave Harry a reproachful look, and said, “Let’s not worry about that now –”
But Mr. Ollivander intervened.
“The Dark Lord no longer seeks the Elder Wand only for your destruction, Mr. Potter. He is determined84 to possess it because he believes it will make him truly invulnerable.”
“And will it?”
“The owner of the Elder Wand must always fear attack,” said Ollivander, “but the idea of the Dark Lord in possession of the Deathstick is, I must admit… formidable.”
Harry was suddenly reminded of how unsure, when they first met, of how much he liked Ollivander. Even now, having been tortured and imprisoned85 by Voldemort, the idea of the Dark Wizard in possession of this wand seemed to enthrall86 him as much as it repulsed87 him.
“You – you really think this wand exists, then, Mr. Ollivander?” asked Hermione.
“Oh yes,” said Ollivander. “Yes, it is perfectly88 possible to trace the wand’s course through history. There are gaps, of, course, and long ones, where it vanishes from view, temporarily lost or hidden; but always it resurfaces. It has certain identifying characteristics that those who are learned in wandlore recognize. There are written accounts, some of them obscure, that I and other wandmakers have made it our business to study. They have the ring of authenticity89.”
“So you – you don’t think it can be a fairy tale or a myth?” Hermione asked hopefully.
“No,” said Ollivander. “Whether it needs to pass by murder, I do not know. Its history is bloody90, but that may be simply due to the fact that it is such a desirable object, and arouses such passions in wizards. Immensely powerful, dangerous in the wrong hands, and an object of incredible fascination91 to all of us who study the power of wands.”
“Mr. Ollivander,” said Harry, “you told You-Know-Who that Gregorovitch had the Elder Wand, didn’t you?”
Ollivander turned, if possible, even paler. He looked ghostly as he gulped92.
“But how – how do you –?”
“Never mind how I know it,” said Harry, closing his eyes momentarily as his scar burned and he saw, for mere93 seconds, a vision of the main street in Hogsmeade, still dark, because it was so much farther north. “You told You-Know-Who that Gregorovitch had the wand?”
“It was a rumor94,” whispered Ollivander. “A rumor, years and years ago, long before you were born I believe Gregorovitch himself started it. You can see how good it would be for business; that he was studying and duplicating the qualities of the Elder Wand!”
“Yes, I can see that,” said Harry. He stood up. “Mr. Ollivander, one last thing, and then we’ll let you get some rest. What do you know about the Deathly Hallows?”
“The – the what?” asked the wandmaker, looking utterly95 bewildered.
“The Deathly Hallows.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. Is this still something to do with wands?”
Harry looked into the sunken face and believed that Ollivander was not acting. He did not know about the Hallows.
“Thank you,” said Harry. “Thank you very much. We’ll leave you to get some rest now.”
Ollivander looked stricken.
“He was torturing me!” he gasped96. “The Cruciatus Curse… you have no idea….”
“I do,” said Harry, “I really do. Please get some rest. Thank you for telling me all of this.”
He led Ron and Hermione down the staircase. Harry caught glimpses of Bill, Fleur, Luna, and Dean sitting at the table in the kitchen, cups of tea in front of them. They all looked up at Harry as he appeared in the doorway, but he merely nodded to them and continued into the garden, Ron and Hermione behind him. The reddish mound of earth that covered Dobby lay ahead, and Harry walked back to it, as the pain in his head built more and more powerfully. It was a huge effort now to close down the visions that were forcing themselves upon him, but he knew that he would have to resist only a little longer. He would yield very soon, because he needed to know that his theory was right. He must make only one more short effort, so that he could explain to Ron and Hermione.
“Gregorovitch had the Elder Wand a long time ago,” he said, “I saw You-Know-Who trying to find him. When he tracked him down, he found that Gregorovitch didn’t have it anymore: It was stolen from him by Grindelwald. How Grindelwald found out that Gregorovitch had it, I don’t know – but if Gregorovitch was stupid enough to spread the rumor, it can’t have been that difficult.”
Voldemort was at the gates of Hogwarts; Harry could see him standing there, and see too the lamp bobbing in the pre-dawn, coming closer and closer.
“And Grindelwald used the Elder Wand to become powerful. And at the height of his power, when Dumbledore knew he was the only one who could stop him, he dueled97 Grindelwald and beat him, and he took the Elder Wand.“
“Dumbledore had the Elder Wand?” said Ron. “But then – where is it now?”
“At Hogwarts,” said Harry, fighting to remain with them in the cliff-top garden.
“But then, let’s go!” said Ron urgently. “Harry, let’s go and get it before he does!”
“It’s too late for that,” said Harry. He could not help himself, but clutched his head, trying to help it resist. “He knows where it is. He’s there now.”
“Harry!” Ron said furiously. “How long have you known this – why have we been wasting time? Why did you talk to Griphook first? We could have gone – we could still go – ”
“No,” said Harry, and he sank to his knees in the grass. “Hermione’s right. Dumbledore didn’t want me to have it. He didn’t want me to take it. He wanted me to get the Horcruxes.”
“The unbeatable wand, Harry!” moaned Ron.
“I’m not supposed to… I’m supposed to get the Horcruxes….”
And now everything was cool and dark: The sun was barely visible over the horizon as he glided98 alongside Snape, up through the grounds toward the lake.
“I shall join you in the castle shortly,” he said in his high, cold voice. “Leave me now.”
Snape bowed and set off back up the path, his black cloak billowing behind him. Harry walked slowly, waiting for Snape’s figure to disappear. It would not do for Snape, or indeed anyone else, to see where he was going. But there were no lights in the castle windows, and he could conceal33 himself… and in a second he had cast upon himself a Disillusionment Charm that hid him even from his own eyes.
And he walked on, around the edge of the lake, taking in the outlines of the beloved castle, his first kingdom, his birthright….
And here it was, beside the lake, reflected in the dark waters. The white marble tomb, an unnecessary blot99 on the familiar landscape. He felt again that rush of controlled euphoria, that heady sense of purpose in destruction. He raised the old yew100 wand: How fitting that this would be its last great act.
The tomb split open from head to foot. The shrouded101 figure was as long as thin as it had been in life. He raised the wand again.
The wrappings fell open. The face was translucent102, pale, sunken, yet almost perfectly preserved. They had left his spectacles on the crooked103 nose: He felt amused derision. Dumbledore’s hands were folded upon his chest, and there it lay, clutched beneath them, buried with him.
Had the old fool imagined that marble or death would protect the wand? Had he thought that the Dark Lord would be scared to violate his tomb? The spiderlike hand swooped104 and pulled the wand from Dumbledore’s grasp, and as he took it, a shower of sparks flew from its tip, sparkling over the corpse105 of its last owner, ready to serve a new master at last.
宛如再次陷进过往的梦魇，那一瞬间，哈利似乎回到了霍格沃兹的高塔下，再一次跪在邓布利多的身旁，而事实上，他双眼紧盯的是那个蜷缩在草地上，身上插着贝拉特里克斯那把银色小刀的尸体。即使哈利知道那小精灵已经离开了，不可能再被唤回来，他仍然一直喊着：“多比，多比！”
良久，他才意识到他们已经到了目的地了，比尔，芙蓉，迪安，卢娜都聚在他身边。
“赫敏，”他突然喊道，“赫敏呢，她在哪里？”
“罗恩把她带进去了，”比尔说，“她会没事的。”哈利转头看了看多比，伸出手把他身上那锋利的小刀拔了出来。接着他脱了自己的夹克，像盖毯子一样把它盖在多比身上。
不远处，大海冲击着岩石。哈利对身边的其他人讨论和决定的内容一点都不感兴趣，他侧耳倾听着海浪的声音。迪安把受伤的拉环带进房间里，芙蓉匆忙跟在他们身后，比尔建议把小精灵埋葬，哈利同意了，可是实际上他并不完全知道比尔在说什么。他低头看着那瘦小尸体的时候，头额上的伤疤再次开始灼热疼痛，在头脑中的某个角落里，如同从望远镜的另一端往里看，他看到伏地魔正在马尔福庄园里惩罚着那些被他们甩掉的家伙们。哈利感受到的伏地魔那可怕的愤怒，似乎因多比带来的悲伤而稍稍减弱，那种愤怒仿佛一场遥远的风暴，穿越辽阔寂静的大海，来到哈利身边。
“我想用最合适的方式来埋葬它。”这是哈利完全回过神来所说的第一句话，“不用魔法，有铁锨吗？”没过多久，哈利就独自一人开始工作了，比尔带他去了花园尽头的灌木丛旁边，哈利在那里开始挖掘坟墓。他拼命地挖着，不使用任何魔法——因为他是那么的尊敬多比，每一滴晶莹的汗水和每一个水泡都凝结着无尽的感恩之情，就像给这个小精灵的礼物一样，感谢它为救大家而所做的一切。
他的伤疤还在发烫，但他控制住了那疼痛，他并不是感觉不到，只是他竭尽全力不去理会那疼痛，他终于成功地学会了驾驭那伤疤，学会了阻止伏地魔对自己思想施加影响，这都是邓布利多希望他能从斯内普身上学到的东西，正如当初哈利为小天狼星感到悲伤时伏地魔不能控制哈利一样。如今，当哈利为多比感到特别难过的时候，伏地魔也一样不能控制哈利。似乎是悲痛让伏地魔远离哈利——邓布利多说过这其实是爱的力量。
哈利不断朝深处挖，泥土变得越来越硬，越来越冷，他的汗滴蕴涵着他的悲伤，而同时他也抵抗着头上的疼痛。黑暗中，陪伴在他身边的只有他自己的呼吸声和海浪声。他想起了马尔福家中发生的一切，想起了他听到的那些东西，在黑暗中他突然想明白了。
他的双臂随着思想有节奏地运动着，死圣……魂器……死圣……魂器……那疼痛随着这奇怪的强迫性的想法而停止了，他想是失落和担心令它停止的——他幡然醒悟过来。
哈利站在坟墓里，坟墓越来越深了，他知道了今晚伏地魔去了哪里，他知道伏地魔在努尔蒙德的顶楼杀的人是谁，知道为什么要杀他…
紧接着他想到了虫尾巴，仅仅是因为那潜意识里仁慈而死掉了……邓不里多曾经预见到了这点，那他还预见过别的什么吗？
哈利失去了时间的概念，他只知道当罗恩和迪安加入的时候，夜色没有那么深了。“赫敏现在怎样了？”“还不错，”罗恩说，“芙蓉正在照顾着她。”如果他们会问他为什么情愿用铲子而不简简单单地用魔杖制造一个更完美的坟墓，哈利已经准备好了答案，但他们并没有问，大家都跳进了他已经挖了一半的坟墓，然后默默地帮助哈利一起挖，直到这个洞足够深为止。
哈利用夹克紧紧地包裹着小精灵，罗恩站在坟墓的边缘，脱掉了鞋和袜子，然后把它们套在精灵的赤足上，迪安拿出了一个羊毛制的帽子，哈利把帽子戴在多比头上，盖住它那蝙蝠一样的耳朵。“我们应该将它的眼睛合上。”
在黑暗中，哈利没有听到大家走过来的脚步，比尔穿着旅行用的斗篷，芙蓉的则是很大的白色的围裙，哈利看到围裙口袋里装了一瓶生骨药水。赫敏穿着一条借来的长裙，面色苍白，摇摇晃晃，罗恩搂住了她。卢娜穿着芙蓉的衣服蹲了下来，用手轻轻地将精灵的眼睛合上，“就这样，”她说，“现在它应该可以安息了。”
哈利把小精灵放进坟墓，让他那小小的四肢放平，这样，他就可以好好的休息了。然后，哈利从坟墓里爬出来，看了看多比最后一眼。如同在邓不里多的葬礼上一样。那一排排金色的座位，坐在正前排的魔法部长，叙述着邓不里多一生的成就，白色的坚硬的坟墓看上去很庄严，他拼命的克制着自己，以免因为想起那些而崩溃。他忽然意识到多比也应该得到一个很隆重的葬礼，但现在它却只是躺在一个粗糙的矮树丛里的坟墓里。
“我想我们应该说点什么，”卢娜说道，“我先说吧，可以吗？”
大家看着她，她开始为那处于坟墓中的精灵发表致辞：“感谢多比将我从地窖里拯救了出来，让你在那么勇敢的时候死去是一件多么不公平的事情，我们永远不会忘记你为我们所做的一切，希望你现在可以幸福。”
她转过头来，满怀期待地看着罗恩，罗恩清了清嗓子，用沉重的语气说，“感谢多比……”迪安则低声说了句，“谢谢。”“再见了多比。”哈利艰难地说，这是他唯一能做到的事情了，卢娜已经说了该说的一切。比尔举起魔杖，坟墓周围的泥土升到空中，随后平整地覆盖住坟墓，形成了一个小小的，红色的土丘。“你们不介意我在这多呆一会吧？”哈利说。
他们说着低低的耳语，他什么都听不到，只是感觉到自己的后背被别人轻轻地拍了几下，然后其他人都回到屋子里面去了，只留下哈利一个人，继续留在多比的身边。
他向周围望了望，看到花床的旁边有很多被海水冲刷十分光滑的白色石头。他挑了一个最大的，放到多比头部的那个位置上。然后他在口袋里摸索着魔杖，此时在口袋里放着两根魔杖，分不清哪根才是属于自己的，他似乎记得另一根是从谁的手里抢而来的。哈利拿出比较短的让他觉得更顺手的那一根，对准了那块石头。
慢慢地，在他轻声的咒语下，石头的表面出现了深深的划痕，他知道赫敏或许做的更快更好，但他希望这一切能由自己来完成，就像刚才自己亲手来为多比挖坟墓一样。当哈利再次站起来的时候，石头上已经刻好这样几个字：多比长眠于此，一个自由的精灵。
他又看了几眼那块石碑，然后慢慢地离开了。额头上的伤疤还是会痛，脑子里充斥着刚才在坟墓中想到的事情，那些在黑暗中成型的既吸引人又可怕的想法。
当他走回小客厅的时候，大家都在房间里坐着，注意力集中在正在说话的比尔身上。房间的色调是浅色的，非常漂亮，壁炉里正用枯木生着小火。哈利他不想让身上的泥土搞脏房间的地毯，所以他站在门口倾听着。
“……还好金妮在放假，如果她在霍格沃兹的话，他们可能会在我们赶到前就把她抓走了，我们知道她现在是安全的。”他环视一圈，看到哈利站在那里。“我已经让他们离开陋居了，让他们搬到穆莉尔姨妈那里去，食死徒知道了罗恩和你在一起，他们把我们家整个的当作靶子了——不要觉得抱歉。”当他看到哈利的表情时，他又加了一句，“这只是时间的问题，爸爸已经这样说了好几个月，我们是最有号召力的纯血统叛乱者。”
“他们进行了什么保护措施？”哈利问。
“赤胆忠心魔咒，爸爸是保密人。我们对这个房子也施加了同样的咒语，我是这里的保密人，大家都不能去上班了，但那不重要。一旦奥利凡德和拉环身体复原，我们就把他们也送到穆莉尔姨妈那里去。这里的房间不是很够，但我想她那里的一定很充足。拉环的腿伤正在好转，芙蓉给他擦了生骨药水，或许再过一个小时我们就能把他送走了。”
“不，”哈利说，这让比尔感到了吃惊。“我需要他们留在这里，我有事要和他们谈，这很重要。”他在自己的声音里听到了一种威严，还有那份坚定，类似的声音也在他刚才挖掘坟墓的时候出现过。其他人看着他，显得很迷惑。
“我要去洗个澡了，”哈利对比尔说，看着自己那满是污泥和多比的鲜血的手，“然后我会去见见他们。”说完他走出了房间，走进了一个小厨房，那里有一个浴缸，靠着一扇可以遥望大海的窗户。太阳从海平线下升了上来，像海滩边的贝壳一样有些粉红，绽放着微弱的金色光芒。洗澡的时候，在黑暗的花园中产生的想法又一次闯进了他的脑海。
多比再也不可能告诉他们是谁把他送进地窖的了，但哈利知道他看到了什么，那蓝色的眼睛透过破碎的镜片已经知晓了一切，然后援助就来了。在霍格沃兹，只要你需要，你就可以得到援助。
哈利擦干了手，没有被窗外的美景和外面的人声所打动，他看着窗外的大海，觉得这拂晓越来越近了，比以往都更靠近，靠近他的心。
伤疤还是会痛，他知道伏地魔也在想着同一件事情。哈利似乎明白却又不是完全明白，他的直觉告诉着他，他的大脑好像不完全属于自己，在脑海里邓布利多正在微笑，用手柔和地抚摸着哈利的头，又像是在祈祷一样双手互扣着。
你给了罗恩熄灯器，你理解他，所以你给了他一条退路。
你也理解虫尾巴，你知道在他心中某个角落，还保留着一丝悔意。
如果你是理解他们的……那你会怎么看待我呢？邓布利多。
这一切……是否我最终会找到答案？你知道为了做到这一切我有多么的难受吗？这也是不是正是你让它变得困难的原因？为了让我有足够的时间去解决？
哈利仍然静静地站着，双眼无神地看着在海平线上耀眼的太阳发出明亮的光辉，然后他低下头看着自己干净的手，忽然惊讶的看到手里抓的衣服，他放下衣服回到客厅，就在这时，他觉得伤疤愤怒的跳动着，一个想法突然如蜻蜓点水一样划过。他知道那个建筑物是什么了。
比尔和芙蓉都站在楼梯的旁边。
哈利说：“我想和奥利凡德和拉环谈谈。”
“不行，”芙蓉拒绝了，“你必须等等，他们需要休息。”
“对不起，”哈利平静地说，“不能再等了。我必须和他们谈一下，私下的、独立的谈话。这是非常紧急的”。
“哈利。到底发生什么该死的事情了？”比尔问，“你出现在这里，带着一个死去的小精灵和另一个失去意识的小妖精，赫敏就像受尽了折磨一般，罗恩什么都不愿意告诉我——”
“我们不能告诉你我们在做着什么。”哈利平静地说，“我想你最好不要插手，比尔，你是凤凰社的人，你知道邓布利多给了我们一个任务，我们不能把它透漏给任何人。”
芙蓉不耐烦地哼了一声，可比尔并没有看她，只是盯着哈利。很难读懂他那带着深深伤疤的脸，终于，比尔说道：“好吧，你想先跟谁谈？”
哈利迟疑了，他知道他的决定取决于什么，剩下的时间已经不多，是该做出决定的时候了：魂器？还是死圣？
“拉环，”他说，“我要先和拉环谈谈”
他的心跳得很快，就像是刚跑完百米冲刺并清除了一个很大的障碍。
“这边来吧。”比尔边说边带路。
哈利向前走了几步，回过头来说。
“我还需要你们两个，”他叫上偷偷地躲在起居室的门后的罗恩和赫敏。
他们两个马上走出来，看起来古怪地松了口气。
“还好吗？”哈利问赫敏，“你真令我惊讶，在她那样地伤害你时还能想出了那个故事。”
赫敏虚弱地笑了笑。罗恩用一只胳膊搂住了她。
“我们要去做什么，哈利？”他问。
“等会你就知道了，来吧”
哈利，赫敏，罗恩跟着比尔走上台阶，来到狭窄的楼梯平台，这里有三扇门。
“来这里，”比尔说着打开他和芙蓉房间，这里也可以看到大海，太阳正缓缓升起，海面泛着金色的光斑。哈利走向窗户，背对着那壮观的景色，双手合抱，等待着，他的伤疤隐隐作痛。赫敏坐在梳妆台前的椅子上，罗恩坐在扶手上。
比尔再次出现时，带来了一个小妖精，他小心地把小妖精放在床上，拉环咕哝地说了声“谢谢”，然后比尔走出房把门关上，只留下他们。
“我很抱歉要把你从床上叫出来。”哈利说，“你的脚怎样了？”
“很痛，”它回答说，“但正在愈合。”
他还是紧紧地握着格兰芬多的宝剑，带着一副很奇怪的表情，一半凶狠，一半好奇，哈利看着它菜色的皮肤，细长的手指和黑色的眼睛，芙蓉已经把它的鞋给脱了：他那长长的脚上很脏，他比一个家养小精灵大，但不是大很多，可他那秃顶的头远远大于人类的头。
“或许你已经不记得了，”哈利说，
“在你第一次来到古灵阁的时候，我是带你到你的金库去的那个小妖精？”拉环说，“我记得，哈利波特，甚至在妖精的世界里，你也是非常出名的。”
哈利和拉环相互对视着，也在估量着对方，哈利的伤疤还是在痛，他想快点结束和拉环的谈话，同时却又担心说错话，正当他考虑着该如何开口时，拉环先打破了沉默。
“你埋了那个精灵，”他说，口气里意外的带着怨恨，“我是透过隔壁睡房的窗口看到的。”
“是的，”哈利说。
拉环那斜斜的黑眼睛用余光看着哈利。
“你是个与众不同的巫师，哈利波特。”
“在哪个方面，”哈利问，一边心不在焉地摸着伤疤。
“你挖了个坟墓”
“所以呢？”
拉环没有回答。哈利甚至觉得自己像麻瓜一样的行为被妖精嘲笑了。但它对多比的坟墓赞许或反对都无关紧要，他准备要发言了。
“拉环。我想问的是…”
“你同时也救了一个妖精。”
“什么？”
“你救了我，把我带到了这里。”
“恩，我想你并不觉得抱歉吧，”哈利有点不耐烦地说。
“不，哈利波特。”拉环说，它用一个手指摆弄着下巴周围的黑色胡须。“但你真是个特别的巫师。”
“对啊。”哈利说，“呃，我需要你的帮助，拉环。而且你能做到”。
拉环并没鼓励哈利继续说下去，它仍对哈利皱着眉，仿佛哈利是他从没见过的东西。
“我需要闯进古灵阁的一间金库。”
哈利本来不想以这种不恰当的方式说出来，但这些话已经脱口而出了，这时疼痛刺激着他那闪电状的伤疤，眼前浮现出霍格沃茨的轮廓。他坚定地封闭了自己的大脑，他需要先解决好和拉环的问题。
罗恩和赫敏看着哈利，似乎以为他疯了。
“哈利……”赫敏刚开口，就被拉环打断了。
“闯进古灵阁的金库？”小妖精重复了一边，它在床上换了下位置，向后缩了缩，“那是不可能的。”
“不，那是可以的，”罗恩反驳，“有人做到过。”
“没错，”哈利说，“正发生在我第一次见你---七年前我生日那天，拉环。”
“出事的金库当时是空的。”妖精马上说，哈利理解，尽管拉环已经离开古灵阁，但是防卫被突破的这种观点让它很生气，“那里几乎没有保护措施。”
“但我们要闯的金库不是空的，我想它的保护措施肯定很严密，”哈利说，“它属于莱斯特兰奇。”
他看到赫敏和罗恩吃惊地望着对方，但是等拉环回答完了以后，有的是时间向他们解释。
“你没有机会的，”拉环无力地说，“一点机会都没有，如果你在地下拿了任何不属于你的宝物……”
“就是小偷，你以前警告过的，是的，我知道，我都没忘，”哈利说，“但我并不是要把财宝据为己有，你能相信吗？”
小妖怪斜视着哈利，哈利前额的伤疤又开始作痛了，但他没有理会，不愿意接受伤疤的疼痛或邀请。
“如果有哪个巫师能让我相信他不会为了私利而这样做，”拉环终于说道，“我想那个人就是你，你今晚给予了我们保护和尊重---那是妖怪和精灵一直都没从拿着魔杖的人身上得到过的。”
“拿着魔杖的人？”哈利重复着，这种说法听上起很奇特，随着伤疤的刺痛，伏地魔把他的想法引向北边，哈利着急地走向隔壁房间，想询问奥利凡德。
“携带魔杖的权利，”妖精静静地说，“巫师和妖精争夺了很久。”
“嗯……妖精不需要魔杖也可以使用魔法，”罗恩说。
“那不重要！巫师不肯和其他魔法生物分享魔杖的秘密，他们阻止了我们增强法力的可能性。”
“呃……妖精也并不会把他们的魔法与别人分享，”罗恩说，“你们也并不会告诉我们如何像妖精一样制作宝剑和盔甲。妖精处理金属的方法是巫师们从来都不知道的——”
“那不重要，”哈利看到拉环的脸色变了，赶紧说道。“这和巫师与妖精或者其他魔法生物的对立没有关系——”
拉环露出了一个令人厌恶的笑容。
“非常有关系，恰恰就是这里的问题！随着黑魔王力量的增强，你们愈加稳固的踩在我们头上！古灵阁被巫师条例所统治，家养小精灵被屠杀，那些拿着魔杖的人，有谁会反抗？”
“我们会！”赫敏说。她坐直身体，眼睛明亮。“我们会反抗！我也被追捕，如同任何一个妖精和精灵一样！我是泥巴种！”
“不要管你自己叫——”罗恩咕哝道。
“为什么不能？”赫敏说，“我是泥巴种，我为此感到自豪！拉环，在新的秩序下，我的地位比你们都要高！在马尔福家里，我是那个被他们选出来严刑拷问的人！”
她一边说着，一边拉开睡裙的领口，露出了贝拉特里克斯在她脖子上留下的猩红色细小伤痕。
“你知道让多比得到自由的人是哈利吗？”赫敏问，“你知道我们为了精灵的自由努力了好几年吗？”（罗恩坐在赫敏的椅子扶手上有些坐立不安。）
“你比我们更加不希望神秘人取得胜利，拉环！”
妖精看赫敏的表情与刚才看哈利的一样好奇。
“你们想要在莱斯特兰奇的金库里找什么？”他轮流的看着他们三个的脸。“我想你已经知道了，你要我替你撒了谎。”
“但是那个金库里并不是只有一把假剑，不是吗？”哈利问，“或许你见过里面其他的东西？”他的心跳从来没像现在这么快过，他加倍努力的忽略伤疤带来的疼痛。
妖精再一次用手指卷绕着自己的胡须。“讲出古灵阁的秘密，是违反我们的法规的。我们是传说中的财宝的守护者，我们对于自己做出的东西有责任。”
妖精敲了一下那把剑，黑色的眼珠依次从哈利、赫敏、罗恩的脸上来回扫了一遍。
“这么年轻，”他说，“就要与那么多人战斗。”
“你会帮助我们吗？”哈利问，“没有妖精的帮助，我们就没有闯进去的希望，你是我们唯一的机会。”
“我要……考虑一下，”拉环令人恼火的说。
“但是——”罗恩生气想要讲话，赫敏轻轻的碰了碰他的肋骨，阻止了他。
“谢谢你。”哈利说。
妖精点了点他那又大又圆的头，曲起腿。
“我认为，”他炫耀的坐在比尔和芙蓉的床上说，“生骨药水已经完成它的使命了，我要睡觉了，请原谅……”
“噢，当然，”哈利说，临走之前，他弯下腰，从拉环身边拿走了格兰芬多宝剑。拉环并没阻止他，但是哈利看到拉环在关门的时候，眼中透出一丝怨恨。
“小妖精，”罗恩轻声的说，“他在吊我们的胃口！”
“哈利，”赫敏把他们俩从门口拉到黑暗的楼梯平台中央，小声的说，“你说的是我理解的那个意思吗？你的意思是说莱斯特兰奇的金库里有魂器？”
“是的，”哈利说，“贝拉特里克斯以为我们去过那里，她差点吓疯了。为什么呢？她以为我们看见了什么东西？她以为我们拿走了什么东西？她吓呆了，如果那东西丢了，神秘人一定会知道。”
“但是我以为我们是在寻找神秘人去过的地方，他做过什么大事的地方，不是吗？”罗恩迷惑地说，“他去过莱斯特兰奇的金库吗？”
“我不知道他是不是去过古灵阁的内部，”哈利说，“他年轻的时候，在那里并没有存款，因为没人给他留过遗产。他从外部见过古灵阁银行，在第一次去尖叫棚屋的时候。”
哈利的伤疤跳动着作痛，但他没理会，在去见奥利凡德之前，他想让罗恩和赫敏对古灵阁的情况多了解一些。
“我想，他嫉妒每一个拥有古灵阁金库钥匙的人，他认为那是属于巫师世界的真实象征。别忘了，他信任贝拉特里克斯夫妇，在他垮台之前，他们是他最忠诚的仆人，当他消失以后，贝拉特里克斯夫妇仍然继续的寻找他。他回来的那个晚上讲过这些话，我听到了。”
哈利揉了揉他的伤疤。
“我想，他并没有告诉贝拉
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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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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manor
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| n.庄园，领地 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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relishing
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| v.欣赏( relish的现在分词 )；从…获得乐趣；渴望 | |
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blister
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| n.水疱；(油漆等的)气泡；v.(使)起泡 | |
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penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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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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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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obsessive
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| adj. 着迷的, 强迫性的, 分神的 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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woolen
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| adj.羊毛(制)的；毛纺的 | |
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muffling
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| v.压抑，捂住( muffle的现在分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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protruded
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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wrenching
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| n.修截苗根，苗木铲根（铲根时苗木不起土或部分起土）v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的现在分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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impervious
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| adj.不能渗透的，不能穿过的，不易伤害的 | |
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glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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sprinting
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| v.短距离疾跑( sprint的现在分词 ) | |
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skulking
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| v.潜伏，偷偷摸摸地走动，鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的现在分词 ) | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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truculent
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| adj.野蛮的，粗野的 | |
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intrigued
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| adj.好奇的，被迷住了的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的过去式)；激起…的兴趣或好奇心；“intrigue”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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domed
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| adj. 圆屋顶的, 半球形的, 拱曲的 动词dome的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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wincing
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的现在分词 ) | |
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breached
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| 攻破( breach的现在分词 )； 破坏，违反 | |
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minimal
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| adj.尽可能少的，最小的 | |
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northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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versus
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| prep.以…为对手，对；与…相比之下 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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slaughtered
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| v.屠杀，杀戮，屠宰( slaughter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
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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52
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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54
guardians
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| 监护人( guardian的名词复数 )； 保护者，维护者 | |
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fabulous
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| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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57
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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58
flexed
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| adj.[医]曲折的，屈曲v.屈曲( flex的过去式和过去分词 )；弯曲；（为准备大干而）显示实力；摩拳擦掌 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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petrified
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| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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emaciated
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| adj.衰弱的，消瘦的 | |
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sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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thwart
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| v.阻挠，妨碍，反对；adj.横(断的) | |
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feigning
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| 假装，伪装( feign的现在分词 )； 捏造（借口、理由等） | |
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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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69
phoenix
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| n.凤凰，长生(不死)鸟；引申为重生 | |
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supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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71
braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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72
flexing
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| n.挠曲，可挠性v.屈曲( flex的现在分词 )；弯曲；（为准备大干而）显示实力；摩拳擦掌 | |
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73
unicorn
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| n.(传说中的)独角兽 | |
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affinity
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| n.亲和力，密切关系 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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gushed
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| v.喷，涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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brittle
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| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
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protuberant
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| adj.突出的，隆起的 | |
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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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bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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croaked
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的过去式和过去分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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86
enthrall
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| vt.迷住，吸引住；使感到非常愉快 | |
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repulsed
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| v.击退( repulse的过去式和过去分词 )；驳斥；拒绝 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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authenticity
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| n.真实性 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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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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dueled
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| vt.使（另一人）参加决斗（duel的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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yew
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| n.紫杉属树木 | |
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101
shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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102
translucent
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| adj.半透明的；透明的 | |
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103
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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104
swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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105
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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