Harry1's feet hit solid ground; his knees buckled2 a little and the golden wizard's head fell with a resounding3 clunk to the floor. He looked around and saw that he had arrived in Dumbledore's office.
Everything seemed to have repaired itself during the Headmasters absence. The delicate silver instruments stood once more on the spindle-legged tables, puffing4 and whirring serenely5. The portraits of the headmasters and headmistresses were snoozing in their frames, heads lolling back in armchairs or against the edge of the picture. Harry looked through the window. There was a cool line of pale green along the horizon: dawn was approaching.
The silence and the stillness, broken only by the occasional grunt6 or snuffle of a sleeping portrait, was unbearable7 to him. If his surroundings could have reflected the feelings inside him, the pictures would have been screaming in pain. He walked around the quiet, beautiful office, breathing quickly, trying not to think. But he had to think ... there was no escape ...
It was his fault Sirius had died; it was all his fault. If he, Harry, had not been stupid enough to fall for Voldemort's trick, if he had not been so convinced that what he had seen in his dream was real, if he had only opened his mind to the possibility that Voldemort was, as Hermione had said, banking8 on Harry's love of playing the hero ...
It was unbearable, he would not think about it, he could not stand it ... there was a terrible hollow inside him he did not want to feel or examine, a dark hole where Sirius had been, where Sirius had vanished; he did not want to have to be alone with that great, silent space, he could not stand it—
A picture behind him gave a particularly loud grunting9 snore, and a cool voice said, ‘Ah ... Harry Potter ...’
Phineas Nigellus gave a long yawn, stretching his arms as he surveyed Harry out of shrewd, narrow eyes.
‘And what brings you here in the early hours of the morning?’ said Phineas eventually. ‘This office is supposed to be barred to all but the rightful Headmaster. Or has Dumbledore sent you here? Oh, don't tell me ...’ He gave another shuddering10 yawn. ‘Another message for my worthless great-great-grandson?’
Harry could not speak. Phineas Nigellus did not know that Sirius was dead, but Harry could not tell him. To say it aloud would be to make it final, absolute, irretrievable.
A few more of the portraits had stirred now. Terror of being interrogated11 made Harry stride across the room and seize the doorknob.
It would not turn. He was shut in.
‘I hope this means,’ said the corpulent, red-nosed wizard who hung on the wall behind the Headmasters desk, ‘that Dumbledore will soon be back among us?’
Harry turned. The wizard was surveying him with great interest. Harry nodded. He tugged12 again on the doorknob behind his back, but it remained immovable.
‘Oh good,’ said the wizard. ‘It has been very dull without him, very dull indeed.’
He settled himself on the throne-like chair on which he had been painted and smiled benignly13 upon Harry.
‘Dumbledore thinks very highly of you, as I am sure you know,’ he said comfortably. ‘Oh yes. Holds you in great esteem14.’
The guilt15 filling the whole of Harry's chest like some monstrous16, weighty parasite17, now writhed18 and squirmed. Harry could not stand this, he could not stand being himself any more ... he had never felt more trapped inside his own head and body, never wished so intensely that he could be somebody, anybody else ...
The empty fireplace burst into emerald green flame, making Harry leap away from the door, staring at the man spinning inside the grate. As Dumbledore's tall form unfolded itself from the fire, the wizards and witches on the surrounding walls jerked awake, many of them giving cries of welcome.
‘Thank you,’ said Dumbledore softly.
He did not look at Harry at first, but walked over to the perch19 beside the door and withdrew, from an inside pocket of his robes, the tiny, ugly, featherless Fawkes, whom he placed gently on the tray of soft ashes beneath the golden post where the full-grown Fawkes usually stood.
‘Well, Harry,’ said Dumbledore, finally turning away from the baby bird, ‘you will be pleased to hear that none of your fellow students are going to suffer lasting20 damage from the night's events.’
Harry tried to say, ‘Good,’ but no sound came out. It seemed to him that Dumbledore was reminding him of the amount of damage he had caused, and although Dumbledore was for once looking at him directly, and although his expression was kindly21 rather than accusatory, Harry could not bear to meet his eyes.
‘Madam Pomfrey is patching everybody up,’ said Dumbledore. ‘Nymphadora Tonks may need to spend a little time in St. Mungos, but it seems she will make a full recovery.’
Harry contented22 himself with nodding at the carpet, which was growing lighter23 as the sky outside grew paler. He was sure all the: portraits around the room were listening closely to every word Dumbledore spoke24, wondering where Dumbledore and Harry had been, and why there had been injuries.
‘I know how you're feeling, Harry,’ said Dumbledore very quietly.
‘No, you don't,’ said Harry, and his voice was suddenly loud and strong; white-hot anger leapt inside him; Dumbledore knew nothing about his feelings.
‘You see, Dumbledore?’ said Phineas Nigellus slyly. ‘Never try to understand the students. They hate it. They would much rather be tragically25 misunderstood, wallow in self-pity, stew26 in their own—’
‘That's enough, Phineas,’ said Dumbledore.
Harry turned his back on Dumbledore and stared determinedly27 out of the window. He could see the Quidditch stadium in the distance. Sirius had appeared there once, disguised as the shaggy black dog, so he could watch Harry play ... he had probably come to see whether Harry was as good as James had been ... Harry had never asked him ...
‘There is no shame in what you are feeling, Harry,’ said Dumbledore's voice. ‘On the contrary ... the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength.’
Harry felt the white-hot anger lick his insides, blazing in the terrible emptiness, filling him with the desire to hurt Dumbledore for his calmness and his empty words.
‘My greatest strength, is it?’ said Harry, his voice shaking as he stared out at the Quidditch stadium, no longer seeing it. ‘You haven't got a clue ... you don't know ...’
‘What don't I know?’ asked Dumbledore calmly.
It was too much. Harry turned around, shaking with rage.
‘I don't want to talk about how I feel, all right?’
‘Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human—’
‘THEN—I—DON'T —WANT—TO—BE—HUMAN!’ Harry roared, and he seized the delicate silver instrument from the spindle-legged table beside him and flung it across the room; it shattered into a hundred tiny pieces against the wall. Several of the pictures let out yells of anger and fright, and the portrait of Armando Dippet said, ‘Really!’
‘I DON'T CARE!’ Harry yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace. ‘I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANY MORE—’
He seized the table on which the silver instrument had stood and threw that, too. It broke apart on the floor and the legs rolled in different directions.
‘You do care,’ said Dumbledore. He had not flinched29 or made a single move to stop Harry demolishing30 his office. His expression was calm, almost detached. ‘You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.’
‘I—DON'T!’ Harry screamed, so loudly that he felt his throat might tear, and for a second he wanted to rush at Dumbledore and break him, too; shatter that calm old face, shake him, hurt him, make him feel some tiny part of the horror inside himself.
‘Oh, yes, you do,’ said Dumbledore, still more calmly. ‘You have now lost your mother, your father, and the closest thing to a parent you have ever known. Of course you care.’
‘YOU DON'T KNOW HOW I FEEL!’ Harry roared. ‘YOU—STANDING31 THERE—YOU—’
But words were no longer enough, smashing things was no more help; he wanted to run, he wanted to keep running and never look back, he wanted to be somewhere he could not see the clear blue eyes staring at him, that hatefully calm old face. He turned on his heel and ran to the door, seized the doorknob again and wrenched33 at it.
But the door would not open.
Harry turned back to Dumbledore.
‘Let me out,’ he said. He was shaking from head to foot.
‘No,’ said Dumbledore simply.
For a few seconds they stared at each other.
‘Let me out,’ Harry said again.
‘No,’ Dumbledore repeated.
‘If you don't— if you keep me in here—if you don't let me—’
‘By all means continue destroying my possessions,’ said Dumbledore serenely. ‘I daresay I have too many.’
He walked around his desk and sat down behind it, watching Harry.
‘Let me out,’ Harry said yet again, in a voice that was cold and almost as calm as Dumbledore's.
‘Not until I have had my say,’ said Dumbledore.
‘Do you—do you think I want to—do you think I give a—I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU'VE GOT TO SAY!’ Harry roared. ‘I don't want to hear anything you've got to say!’
‘You will,’ said Dumbledore steadily34. ‘Because you are not nearly as angry with me as you ought to be. If you are to attack me, as I know you are close to doing, I would like to have thoroughly35 earned it.’
‘What are you talking—?’
‘It is my fault that Sirius died,’ said Dumbledore clearly. ‘Or should I say, almost entirely36 my fault—I will not be so arrogant37 as to claim responsibility for the whole. Sirius was a brave, clever and energetic man, and such men are not usually content to sit at home in hiding while they believe others to be in danger. Nevertheless, you should never have believed for an instant that there was any necessity for you to go to the Department of Mysteries tonight. If I had been open with you, Harry, as I should have been, you would have known a long time ago that Voldemort might try and lure38 you to the Department of Mysteries, and you would never have been tricked into going there tonight. And Sirius would not have had to come after you. That blame lies with me, and with me alone.’
Harry was still standing with his hand on the doorknob but was unaware39 of it. He was gazing at Dumbledore, hardly breathing, listening yet barely understanding what he was hearing.
‘Please sit down,’ said Dumbledore. It was not an order, it was a request.
Harry hesitated, then walked slowly across the room now littered with silver cogs and fragments of wood, and took the seat facing Dumbledore's desk.
‘Am I to understand,’ said Phineas Nigellus slowly from Harry's left, ‘that my great-great-grandson—the last of the Blacks—is dead?’
‘Yes, Phineas,’ said Dumbledore.
‘I don't believe it,’ said Phineas brusquely.
Harry turned his head in time to see Phineas marching out of his portrait and knew that he had gone to visit his other painting in Grimmauld Place. He would walk, perhaps, from portrait to portrait, calling for Sirius through the house ...
‘Harry, I owe you an explanation,’ said Dumbledore. ‘An explanation of an old man's mistakes. For I see now that what I have done, and not done, with regard to you, bears all the hallmarks of the failings of age. Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young ... and I seem to have forgotten, lately ...’
The sun was rising properly now; there was a rim40 of dazzling orange visible over the mountains and the sky above it was colourless and bright. The light fell upon Dumbledore, upon the silver of his eyebrows41 and beard, upon the lines gouged42 deeply into his lace.
‘I guessed, fifteen years ago,’ said Dumbledore, ‘when I saw the scar on your forehead, what it might mean. I guessed that it might be the sign of a connection forged between you and Voldemort.’
‘You've told me this before, Professor,’ said Harry bluntly. He did not care about being rude. He did not care about anything very much any more.
‘Yes,’ said Dumbledore apologetically. ‘Yes, but you see—it is necessary to start with your scar. For it became apparent, shortly after you rejoined the magical world, that I was correct, and that your scar was giving you warnings when Voldemort was close to you, or else feeling powerful emotion.’
‘I know,’ said Harry wearily.
‘And this ability of yours—to detect Voldemort's presence, even when he is disguised, and to know what he is feeling when his emotions are roused—has become more and more pronounced since Voldemort returned to his own body and his full powers.’
Harry did not bother to nod. He knew all of this already.
‘More recently,’ said Dumbledore, ‘I became concerned that Voldemort might realise that this connection between you exists. Sure enough, there came a time when you entered so far into his mind and thoughts that he sensed your presence. I am speaking, of course, of the night when you witnessed the attack on Mr. Weasley.’
‘Yeah, Snape told me,’ Harry muttered.
‘Professor Snape, Harry,’ Dumbledore corrected him quietly. ‘But did you not wonder why it was not I who explained this to you? Why I did not teach you Occlumency? Why I had not so much as looked at you for months?’
Harry looked up. He could see now that Dumbledore looked sad and tired.
‘Yeah,’ Harry mumbled43. ‘Yeah, I wondered.’
‘You see,’ Dumbledore continued, ‘I believed it could not be long before Voldemort attempted to force his way into your mind, to manipulate and misdirect your thoughts, and I was not eager to give him more incentives44 to do so. I was sure that if he realised that our relationship was—or had ever been—closer than that of headmaster and pupil, he would seize his chance to use you as a means to spy on me. I feared the uses to which he would put you, the possibility that he might try and possess you. Harry, I believe I was right to think that Voldemort would have made use of you in such a way. On those rare occasions when we had close contact, I thought I saw a shadow of him stir behind your eyes ...’
Harry remembered the feeling that a dormant45 snake had risen in him, ready to strike, in those moments when he and Dumbledore had made eye-contact.
‘Voldemort's aim in possessing you, as he demonstrated tonight, would not have been my destruction. It would have been yours. He hoped, when he possessed46 you briefly47 a short while ago, that I would sacrifice you in the hope of killing48 him. So you see, I have been trying, in distancing myself from you, to protect you, Harry. An old man s mistake ...’
He sighed deeply. Harry was letting the words wash over him. He would have been so interested to know all this a few months ago, but now it was meaningless compared to the gaping49 chasm50 inside him that was the loss of Sirius; none of it mattered ...
‘Sirius told me you felt Voldemort awake inside you the very night that you had the vision of Arthur Weasley's attack. I knew at once that my worst fears were correct: Voldemort had realised he could use you. In an attempt to arm you against Voldemort's assaults on your mind, I arranged Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape.’
He paused. Harry watched the sunlight, which was sliding slowly across the polished surface of Dumbledore's desk, illuminate51 a silver ink pot and a handsome scarlet52 quill53. Harry could tell that the portraits all around them were awake and listening raptly to Dumbledore's explanation; he could hear the occasional rustle54 of robes, the slight clearing of a throat. Phineas Nigellus had still not returned ...
‘Professor Snape discovered,’ Dumbledore resumed, ‘that you had been dreaming about the door to the Department of Mysteries for months. Voldemort, of course, had been obsessed55 with the possibility of hearing the prophecy ever since he regained56 his body; and as he dwelled on the door, so did you, though you did not know what it meant.
‘And then you saw Rookwood, who worked in the Department of Mysteries before his arrest, telling Voldemort what we had known all along—that the prophecies held in the Ministry57 of Magic are heavily protected. Only the people to whom they refer can lift them from the shelves without suffering madness: in this case, either Voldemort himself would have to enter the Ministry of Magic, and risk revealing himself at last—or else you would have to take it for him. It became a matter of even greater urgency that you should master Occlumency.’
‘But I didn't,’ muttered Harry. He said it aloud to try and ease the dead weight of guilt inside him: a confession58 must surely relieve some of the terrible pressure squeezing his heart. ‘I didn't practise, I didn't bother, I could've stopped myself having those dreams, Hermione kept telling me to do it, if I had he'd never have been able to show me where to go, and—Sirius wouldn't—Sirius wouldn't—’
Something was erupting inside Harry's head: a need to justify59 himself, to explain—
‘I tried to check he'd really taken Sirius, I went to Umbridge's office, I spoke to Kreacher in the fire and he said Sirius wasn't there, he said he'd gone!’
‘Kreacher lied,’ said Dumbledore calmly. ‘You are not his master, he could lie to you without even needing to punish himself. Kreacher intended you to go to the Ministry of Magic.’
‘He—he sent me on purpose?’
‘Oh yes. Kreacher, I am afraid, has been serving more than one master for months.’
‘How?’ said Harry blankly. ‘He hasn't been out of Grimmauld Place for years.’
‘Kreacher seized his opportunity shortly before Christmas,’ said Dumbledore, ‘when Sirius, apparently60, shouted at him to “get out". He took Sirius at his word, and interpreted this as an order to leave the house. He went to the only Black family member for whom he had any respect left ... Black's cousin Narcissa, sister of Bellatrix and wife of Lucius Malfoy.’
‘How do you know all this?’ Harry said. His heart was beating very fast. He felt sick. He remembered worrying about Kreacher's odd absence over Christmas, remembered him turning up again in the attic61 ...
‘Kreacher told me last night,’ said Dumbledore. ‘You see, when you gave Professor Snape that cryptic62 warning, he realised that you had had a vision of Sirius trapped in the bowels63 of the Department of Mysteries. He, like you, attempted to contact Sirius at once. I should explain that members of the Order of the Phoenix64 have more reliable methods of communicating than the fire in Dolores Umbridge's office. Professor Snape found that Sirius was alive and safe in Grimmauld Place.
‘When, however, you did not return from your trip into the Forest with Dolores Umbridge, Professor Snape grew worried that you still believed Sirius to be a captive of Lord Voldemort's. He alerted certain Order members at once.’
Dumbledore heaved a great sigh and continued, ‘Alastor Moody65, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Remus Lupin were at Headquarters when he made contact. All agreed to go to your aid at once. Professor Snape requested that Sirius remain behind, as he needed somebody to remain at Headquarters to tell me what had happened, for I was due there at any moment. In the meantime he, Professor Snape, intended to search the Forest for you.
‘But Sirius did not wish to remain behind while the others went to search for you. He delegated to Kreacher the task of telling me what had happened. And so it was that when I arrived in Grimmauld Place shortly after they had all left for the Ministry, it was the elf who told me—laughing fit to burst—where Sirius had gone.’
‘He was laughing?’ said Harry in a hollow voice.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Dumbledore. ‘You see, Kreacher was not able to betray us totally. He is not Secret Keeper for the Order, he could not give the Malfoy's our whereabouts, or tell them any of the Order's confidential66 plans that he had been forbidden to reveal. He was bound by the enchantments67 of his kind, which is to say that he could not disobey a direct order from his master, Sirius. But he gave Narcissa information of the sort that is very valuable to Voldemort, yet must have seemed much too trivial for Sirius to think of banning him from repeating it.’
‘Like what?’ said Harry.
‘Like the fact that the person Sirius cared most about in the world was you,’ said Dumbledore quietly. ‘Like the fact that you were coming to regard Sirius as a mixture of father and brother. Voldemort knew already, of course, that Sirius was in the Order, and that you knew where he was—but Kreacher's information made him realise that the one person for whom you would go to any lengths to rescue was Sirius Black.’
Harry's lips were cold and numb68.
‘So ... when I asked Kreacher if Sirius was there last night ...’
‘The Malfoy's— undoubtedly69 on Voldemort's instructions—had told him he must find a way of keeping Sirius out of the way once you had seen the vision of Sirius being tortured. Then, if you decided70 to check whether Sirius was at home or not, Kreacher would be able to pretend he was not. Kreacher injured Buckbeak the hippogriff yesterday, and, at the moment when you made your appearance in the fire, Sirius was upstairs tending to him.’
There seemed to be very little air in Harry's lungs; his breathing was quick and shallow.
‘And Kreacher told you all this ... and laughed?’ he croaked71.
‘He did not wish to tell me,’ said Dumbledore. ‘But I am a sufficiently72 accomplished73 Legilimens myself to know when I am being lied to and I—persuaded him—to tell me the full story, before I left for the Department of Mysteries.’
‘And,’ whispered Harry, his hands curled in cold fists on his knees, ‘and Hermione kept telling us to be nice to him—’
‘She was quite right, Harry,’ said Dumbledore. ‘I warned Sirius when we adopted twelve Grimmauld Place as our Headquarters that Kreacher must be treated with kindness and respect. I also told him that Kreacher could be dangerous to us. I do not think Sirius took me very seriously, or that he ever saw Kreacher as a being with feelings as acute as a human's—’
‘Don't you blame —don't you—talk—about Sirius like—’ Harry's breath was constricted74, he could not get the words out properly; but the rage that had subsided75 briefly flared76 in him again: he would not let Dumbledore criticise77 Sirius. ‘Kreacher's a lying—foul—he deserved—’
‘Kreacher is what he has been made by wizards, Harry,’ said Dumbledore. ‘Yes, he is to be pitied. His existence has been as miserable78 as your friend Dobby's. He was forced to do Sirius's bidding, because Sirius was the last of the family to which he was enslaved, but he felt no true loyalty79 to him. And whatever Kreacher's faults, it must be admitted that Sirius did nothing to make Kreacher's lot easier—’
‘DON'T TALK ABOUT SIRIUS LIKE THAT!’ Harry yelled.
He was on his feet again, furious, ready to fly at Dumbledore, who had plainly not understood Sirius at all, how brave he was, how much he had suffered ...
‘What about Snape?’ Harry spat80. ‘You're not talking about him, are you? When I told him Voldemort had Sirius he just sneered81 at me as usual—’
‘Harry you know Professor Snape had no choice but to pretend not to take you seriously in front of Dolores Umbridge,’ said Dumbledore steadily, ‘but as I have explained, he informed the Order as soon as possible about what you had said. It was he who deduced where you had gone when you did not return from the Forest. It was he, too, who gave Professor Umbridge fake Veritaserum when she was attempting to force you to tell her Sirius's whereabouts.’
Harry disregarded this; he felt a savage82 pleasure in blaming Snape, it seemed to be easing his own sense of dreadful guilt, and he wanted to hear Dumbledore agree with him.
‘Snape—Snape g —goaded Sirius about staying in the house—he made out Sirius was a coward— ’
‘Sirius was much too old and clever to have allowed such feeble taunts83 to hurt him,’ said Dumbledore.
‘Snape stopped giving me Occlumency lessons!’ Harry snarled84. ‘He threw me out of his office!’
‘I am aware of it,’ said Dumbledore heavily. ‘I have already said that it was a mistake for me not to teach you myself, though I was sure, at the time, that nothing could have been more dangerous than to open your mind even further to Voldemort while in my presence—’
‘Snape made it worse, my scar always hurt worse after lessons with him—’ Harry remembered Ron's thoughts on the subject and plunged85 on ‘—how do you know he wasn't trying to soften86 me up for Voldemort, make it easier for him to get inside my— ’
‘I trust Severus Snape,’ said Dumbledore simply. ‘But I forgot—another old man's mistake— that some wounds run too deep for the healing. I thought Professor Snape could overcome his feelings about your father—I was wrong.’
‘But that's OK, is it?’ yelled Harry, ignoring the scandalised faces and disapproving87 mutterings of the portraits on the walls. ‘It's OK for Snape to hate my dad, but it's not OK for Sirius to hate Kreacher?’
‘Sirius did not hate Kreacher,’ said Dumbledore. ‘He regarded him as a servant unworthy of much interest or notice. Indifference88 and neglect often do much more damage than outright89 dislike ... the fountain we destroyed tonight told a lie. We wizards have mistreated and abused our fellows for too long, and we are now reaping our reward.’
‘SO SIRIUS DESERVED WHAT HE GOT, DID HE?’ Harry yelled.
‘I did not say that, nor will you ever hear me say it,’ Dumbledore replied quietly. ‘Sirius was not a cruel man, he was kind to house-elves in general. He had no love for Kreacher, because Kreacher was a living reminder90 of the home Sirius had hated.’
‘Yeah, he did hate it!’ said Harry, his voice cracking, turning his back on Dumbledore and walking away. The sun was bright inside the room now and the eyes of all the portraits followed him as he walked, without realising what he was doing, without seeing the office at all. ‘You made him stay shut up in that house and he hated it, that's why he wanted to get out last night—’
‘I was trying to keep Sirius alive,’ said Dumbledore quietly.
‘People don't like being locked up!’ Harry said furiously, rounding on him. ‘You did it to me all last summer—’
Dumbledore closed his eyes and buried his face in his long-fingered hands. Harry watched him, but this uncharacteristic sign of exhaustion91, or sadness, or whatever it was from Dumbledore, did not soften him. On the contrary, he felt even angrier that Dumbledore was showing signs of weakness. He had no business being weak when Harry wanted to rage and storm at him.
Dumbledore lowered his hands and surveyed Harry through his half-moon glasses.
‘It is time,’ he said, ‘for me to tell you what I should have told you five years ago, Harry. Please sit down. I am going to tell you everything. I ask only a little patience. You will have your chance to rage at me—to do whatever you like— when I have finished. I will not stop you.’
Harry glared at him for a moment, then flung himself back into the chair opposite Dumbledore and waited.
Dumbledore stared for a moment at the sunlit grounds outside the window, then looked back at Harry and said, ‘Five years ago you arrived at Hogwarts, Harry, safe and whole, as I had planned and intended. Well—not quite whole. You had suffered. I knew you would when I left you on your aunt and uncle's doorstep. I knew I was condemning92 you to ten dark and difficult years.’
He paused. Harry said nothing.
‘You might ask— and with good reason—why it had to be so. Why could some wizarding family not have taken you in? Many would have done so more than gladly, would have been honoured and delighted to raise you as a son.
‘My answer is that my priority was to keep you alive. You were in more danger than perhaps anyone but I realised. Voldemort had been vanquished94 hours before, but his supporters—and many of them are almost as terrible as he—were still at large, angry, desperate and violent. And I had to make my decision, too, with regard to the years ahead. Did I believe that Voldemort was gone for ever? No. I knew not whether it would be ten, twenty or fifty years before he returned, but I was sure he would do so, and I was sure, too, knowing him as I have done, that he would not rest until he killed you.
‘I knew that Voldemort's knowledge of magic is perhaps more extensive than any wizard alive. I knew that even my most complex and powerful protective spells and charms were unlikely to be invincible95 if he ever returned to full power.
‘But I knew, too, where Voldemort was weak. And so I made my decision. You would be protected by an ancient magic of which he knows, which he despises, and which he has always, therefore, underestimated—to his cost. I am speaking, of course, of the fact that your mother died to save you. She gave you a lingering protection he never expected, a protection that flows in your veins96 to this day. I put my trust, therefore, in your mother's blood. I delivered you to her sister, her only remaining relative.’
‘She doesn't love me,’ said Harry at once. ‘She doesn't give a damn—’
‘But she took you,’ Dumbledore cut across him. ‘She may have taken you grudgingly97, furiously, unwillingly98, bitterly, yet still she took you, and in doing so, she sealed the charm I placed upon you. Your mother's sacrifice made the bond of blood the strongest shield I could give you.’
‘I still don't— ’
‘While you can still call home the place where your mother's blood dwells, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort. He shed her blood, but it lives on in you and her sister. Her blood became your refuge. You need return there only once a year, but as long as you can still call it home, whilst you are there he cannot hurt you. Your aunt knows this. I explained what I had done in the letter I left, with you, on her doorstep. She knows that allowing you houseroom may well have kept you alive for the past fifteen years.’
‘Wait,’ said Harry. ‘Wait a moment.’
He sat up straighter in his chair, staring at Dumbledore.
‘You sent that Howler. You told her to remember—it was your voice—’
‘I thought,’ said Dumbledore, inclining his head slightly, ‘that she might need reminding of the pact99 she had sealed by taking you. I suspected the Dementor attack might have awoken her to the dangers of having you as a surrogate son.’
‘It did,’ said Harry quietly. ‘Well—my uncle more than her. He wanted to chuck me out, but after the Howler came she—she said I had to stay.’
He stared at the floor for a moment, then said, ‘But what's this got to do with—’
He could not say Sirius's name.
‘Five years ago, then,’ continued Dumbledore, as though he had not paused in his story, ‘you arrived at Hogwarts, neither as happy nor as well-nourished as I would have liked, perhaps, yet alive and healthy. You were not a pampered100 little prince, but as normal a boy as I could have hoped under the circumstances. Thus far, my plan was working well.
‘And then ... well, you will remember the events of your first year at Hogwarts quite as clearly as I do. You rose magnificently to the challenge that faced you and sooner—much sooner—than I had anticipated, you found yourself face to face with Voldemort. You survived again. You did more. You delayed his return to full power and strength. You fought a man's fight. I was ... prouder of you than I can say.
‘Yet there was a flaw in this wonderful plan of mine,’ said Dumbledore. ‘An obvious flaw that I knew, even then, might be the undoing101 of it all. And yet, knowing how important it was that my plan should succeed, I told myself that I would not permit this flaw to ruin it. I alone could prevent this, so I alone must be strong. And here was my first test, as you lay in the hospital wing, weak from your struggle with Voldemort.’
‘I don't understand what you're saying,’ said Harry.
‘Don't you remember asking me, as you lay in the hospital wing, why Voldemort had tried to kill you when you were a baby?’
Harry nodded.
‘Ought I to have told you then?’
Harry stared into the blue eyes and said nothing, but his heart was racing102 again.
‘You do not see the flaw in the plan yet? No ... perhaps not. Well, as you know, I decided not to answer you. Eleven, I told myself, was much too young to know. I had never intended to tell you when you were eleven. The knowledge would be too much at such a young age.
‘I should have recognised the danger signs then. I should have asked myself why I did not feel more disturbed that you had already asked me the question to which I knew, one day, I must give a terrible answer. I should have recognised that I was too happy to think that I did not have to do it on that particular day ... you were too young, much too young.
‘And so we entered your second year at Hogwarts. And once again you met challenges even grown wizards have never faced; once again you acquitted103 yourself beyond my wildest dreams. You did not ask me again, however, why Voldemort had left that mark on you. We discussed your scar, oh yes ... we came very, very close to the subject. Why did I not tell you everything?
‘Well, it seemed to me that twelve was, after all, hardly better than eleven to receive such information. I allowed you to leave my presence, bloodstained, exhausted104 but exhilarated, and if I felt a twinge of unease that I ought, perhaps, to have told you then, it was swiftly silenced. You were still so young, you see, and I could not find it in myself to spoil that night of triumph ...
‘Do you see, Harry? Do you see the flaw in my brilliant plan now? I had fallen into the trap I had foreseen, that I had told myself I could avoid, that I must avoid.’
‘I don't—’
‘I cared about you too much,’ said Dumbledore simply. ‘I cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life than the lives that might be lost if the plan failed. In other words, I acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love to act.
‘Is there a defence? I defy anyone who has watched you as I have—and I have watched you more closely than you can have imagined—not to want to save you more pain than you had already suffered. What did I care if numbers of nameless and faceless people and creatures were slaughtered105 in the vague future, if in the here and now you were alive, and well, and happy? I never dreamed that I would have such a person on my hands.
‘We entered your third year. I watched from afar as you struggled to repel106 dementors, as you found Sirius, learned what he was and rescued him. Was I to tell you then, at the moment when you had triumphantly107 snatched your godfather from the jaws108 of the Ministry? But now, at the age of thirteen, my excuses were running out. Young you might be, but you had proved you were exceptional. My conscience was uneasy, Harry. I knew the time must come soon ...
‘But you came out of the maze109 last year, having watched Cedric Diggory die, having escaped death so narrowly yourself ... and I did not tell you, though I knew, now Voldemort had returned, I must do it soon. And now, tonight, I know you have long been ready for the knowledge I have kept from you for so long, because you have proved that I should have placed the burden upon you before this. My only defence is this: I have watched you struggling under more burdens than any student who has ever passed through this school and I could not bring myself to add another—the greatest one of all.’
Harry waited, but Dumbledore did not speak.
‘I still don't understand.’
‘Voldemort tried to kill you when you were a child because of a prophecy made shortly before your birth. He knew the prophecy had been made, though he did not know its full contents. He set out to kill you when you were still a baby, believing he was fulfilling the terms of the prophecy. He discovered, to his cost, that he was mistaken, when the curse intended to kill you backfired. And so, since his return to his body, and particularly since your extraordinary escape from him last year, he has been determined28 to hear that prophecy in its entirety. This is the weapon he has been seeking so assiduously since his return: the knowledge of how to destroy you.’
The sun had risen fully32 now: Dumbledore's office was bathed in it. The glass case in which the sword of Godric Gryffindor resided gleamed white and opaque110, the fragments of the instruments Harry had thrown to the floor glistened111 like raindrops, and behind him, the baby Fawkes made soft chirruping noises in his nest of ashes.
‘The prophecy's smashed,’ Harry said blankly. ‘I was pulling Neville up those benches in the— the room where the archway was, and I ripped his robes and it fell ...’
‘The thing that smashed was merely the record of the prophecy kept by the Department of Mysteries. But the prophecy was made to somebody, and that person has the means of recalling it perfectly112.’
‘Who heard it?’ asked Harry, though he thought he knew the answer already.
‘I did,’ said Dumbledore. ‘On a cold, wet night sixteen years ago, in a room above the bar at the Hog's Head inn. I had gone there to see an applicant113 for the post of Divination114 teacher, though it was against my inclination115 to allow the subject of Divination to continue at all. The applicant, however, was the great-great-granddaughter of a very famous, very gifted Seer and I thought it common politeness to meet her. I was disappointed. It seemed to me that she had not a trace of the gift herself. I told her, courteously116 I hope, that I did not think she would be suitable for the post. I turned to leave.’
Dumbledore got to his feet and walked past Harry to the black cabinet that stood beside Fawkes's perch. He bent117 down, slid back a catch and took from inside it the shallow stone basin, carved with runes around the edges, in which Harry had seen his father tormenting118 Snape. Dumbledore walked back to the desk, placed the Pensieve upon it, and raised his wand to his own temple. From it, he withdrew silvery, gossamer-fine strands119 of thought clinging to the wand and deposited them into the basin. He sat back down behind his desk and watched his thoughts swirl120 and drift inside the Pensieve for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he raised his wand and prodded121 the silvery substance with its tip.
A figure rose out of it, draped in shawls, her eyes magnified to enormous size behind her glasses, and she revolved122 slowly, her feet in the basin. But when Sybill Trelawney spoke, it was not in her usual ethereal, mystic voice, but in the harsh, hoarse123 tones Harry had heard her use once before:
‘The one with the power to vanquish93 the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ...’
The slowly revolving124 Professor Trelawney sank back into the silver mass below and vanished.
The silence within the office was absolute. Neither Dumbledore nor Harry nor any of the portraits made a sound. Even Fawkes had fallen silent.
‘Professor Dumbledore?’ Harry said very quietly, for Dumbledore, still staring at the Pensieve, seemed completely lost in thought. ‘It ... did that mean ... what did that mean?’
‘It meant,’ said Dumbledore, ‘that the person who has the only chance of conquering Lord Voldemort for good was born at the end of July, nearly sixteen years ago. This boy would be born to parents who had already defied Voldemort three times.’
Harry felt as though something was closing in on him. His breathing seemed difficult again.
‘It means—me?’
Dumbledore surveyed him for a moment through his glasses.
‘The odd thing, Harry,’ he said softly, ‘is that it may not have meant you at all. Sybill's prophecy could have applied125 to two wizard boys, both born at the end of July that year, both of whom had parents in the Order of the Phoenix, both sets of parents having narrowly escaped Voldemort three times. One, of course, was you. The other was Neville Longbottom.’
‘But then ... but then, why was it my name on the prophecy and not Neville's?’
‘The official record was re-labelled after Voldemort's attack on you as a child,’ said Dumbledore. ‘It seemed plain to the keeper of the Hall of Prophecy that Voldemort could only have tried to kill you because he knew you to be the one to whom Sybill was referring.’
‘Then—it might not be me?’ said Harry.
‘I am afraid,’ said Dumbledore slowly, looking as though every word cost him a great effort, ‘that there is no doubt that it is you.’
‘But you said— Neville was born at the end of July, too—and his mum and dad—’
‘You are forgetting the next part of the prophecy, the final identifying feature of the boy who could vanquish Voldemort ... Voldemort himself would mark him as his equal.And so he did, Harry. He chose you, not Neville. He gave you the scar that has proved both blessing126 and curse.’
‘But he might have chosen wrong!’ said Harry. ‘He might have marked the wrong person!’
‘He chose the boy he thought most likely to be a danger to him,’ said Dumbledore. ‘And notice this, Harry: he chose, not the pure-blood (which, according to his creed127, is the only kind of wizard worth being or knowing) but the half-blood, like himself. He saw himself in you before he had ever seen you, and in marking you with that scar, he did not kill you, as he intended, but gave you powers, and a future, which have fitted you to escape him not once, but four times so far— something that neither your parents, nor Neville's parents, ever achieved.’
‘Why did he do it, then?’ said Harry, who felt numb and cold. ‘Why did he try and kill me as a baby? He should have waited to see whether Neville or I looked more dangerous when we were older and tried to kill whoever it was then—’
‘That might, indeed, have been the more practical course,’ said Dumbledore, ‘except that Voldemort's information about the prophecy was incomplete. The Hog's Head inn, which Sybill chose for its cheapness, has long attracted, shall we say, a more interesting clientele than the Three Broomsticks. As you and your friends found out to your cost, and I to mine that night, it is a place where it is never safe to assume you are not being overheard. Of course, I had not dreamed, when I set out to meet Sybill Trelawney, that I would hear anything worth overhearing. My—our—one stroke of good fortune was that the eavesdropper128 was detected only a short way into the prophecy and thrown from the building.’
‘So he only heard —?’
‘He heard only the beginning, the part foretelling129 the birth of a boy in July to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort. Consequently, he could not warn his master that to attack you would be to risk transferring power to you, and marking you as his equal. So Voldemort never knew that there might be danger in attacking you, that it might be wise to wait, to learn more. He did not know that you would have power the Dark Lord knows not—’
‘But I don't!’ said Harry, in a strangled voice. ‘I haven't any powers he hasn't got, I couldn't fight the way he did tonight, I can't possess people or—or kill them —’
‘There is a room in the Department of Mysteries,’ interrupted Dumbledore, ‘that is kept locked at all times. It contains a force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than the forces of nature. It is also, perhaps, the most mysterious of the many subjects for study that reside there. It is the power held within that room that you possess in such quantities and which Voldemort has not at all. That power took you to save Sirius tonight. That power also saved you from possession by Voldemort, because he could not bear to reside in a body so full of the force he detests130. In the end, it mattered not that you could not close your mind. It was your heart that saved you.’
Harry closed his eyes. If he had not gone to save Sirius, Sirius would not have died ... More to stave off the moment when he would have to think of Sirius again, Harry asked, without caring much about the answer, ‘The end of the prophecy ... it was something about ... neither can live ...’
‘... while the other survives,’ said Dumbledore.
‘So,’ said Harry, dredging up the words from what felt like a deep well of despair inside him, ‘so does that mean that ... that one of us has got to kill the other one ... in the end?’
‘Yes,’ said Dumbledore.
For a long time, neither of them spoke. Somewhere far beyond the office walls, Harry could hear the sound of voices, students heading down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast, perhaps. It seemed impossible that there could be people in the world who still desired food, who laughed, who neither knew nor cared that Sirius Black was gone for ever. Sirius seemed a million miles away already; even now a part of Harry still believed that if he had only pulled back that veil, he would have found Sirius looking back at him, greeting him, perhaps, with his laugh like a bark ...
‘I feel I owe you another explanation, Harry,’ said Dumbledore hesitantly. ‘You may, perhaps, have wondered why I never chose you as a prefect? I must confess ... that I rather thought ... you had enough responsibility to be going on with.’
Harry looked up at him and saw a tear trickling131 down Dumbledore's face into his long silver beard.
哈利的脚触到实地，他的膝盖轻微弯曲着而金巫师的头跌落在地上。他四下巡视发现自己到了丹伯多的办公室。 校长不在的时候所有一切都已经修复如初，那个精致的银色仪器重新放到了纺垂型腿的桌子上, 静静地在烟雾中旋转着，校长们的肖像在画框中打着盹，他们的头或是后垂到扶手椅上或者是依靠在画框边沿。哈利向窗外望去，远处的天边呈现出绿色分界线：黎明正在到来。安静，只有肖像们睡梦中偶尔的呼噜声打破的这种安静，对于他来说无法承受，如果环境能够发射出他的内心感受的话，肖像们应该会痛苦的尖叫。他在这安静、美丽的办公室内漫步着，急迫的呼吸，试着什么也不想。然而他必须想……无法逃避…… 因为他的错误使希利斯死了；全都是他的错。如果他，哈利，不这么愚蠢的落入伏地魔的轨迹，如果他不是那么确信他梦中见到的事情是真实发生的，如果他听荷米恩的劝告考虑伏地魔了解了哈利喜欢做英雄的可能性……
无法承受，他无法想象这些，他无法承受忍受这些……他内心中有一个可怕的不想感到或检查的洞，一个关于希利斯的黑洞，希利斯在那儿消失了；他不想呆在那个沉重且安静的地方，他无法忍受……
他旁边的一幅肖像发出一声巨大的鼾声，冷冷的说，“阿……哈利·波特……”
费涅斯·尼古拉斯大了一个长长的哈欠，当他看到哈利时展开了双臂，眯着双眼。
“什么事情这么早把你带来了呢？”，尼古拉斯说，“这间屋子对除正确的校长之外的人是保密的，或者是登不多尔送你来的？哦，不要告诉我……”，他又打了一个打哈欠，“另一个关于我那无用的孙子的消息？”
哈利无法说话。非涅斯·尼古拉斯还不知道希利斯已经死了，而哈利无法告诉他，高声说出它毕将导致最终的，绝对的绝路。
更多的肖像骚动起来，被审问的恐惧使哈利穿过房间抓住门把手。
无法转动，他被关在屋里了。
“我希望这意味着”， 校长桌子上一个肥胖的红鼻子巫师说，“丹伯多很快就回到我们中间了？” 哈利转身，那个巫师很感兴趣的看着他。哈利点点头，他再次用力拉身后的门把手,然而仍旧无法转动。
“好极了”，那个巫师说，“他不在很无聊，事实上非常之无聊。”
他坐在一个君王似的椅子上，善良的微笑着看着哈利，“丹伯多对你评价很高，我想你知道”，他舒服地说，“是的，他非常尊重你。”
哈利胸中那巨大的内疚感现在如寄生虫一般蠕动起来，他已经不再是自己了……从未有过的感觉更深地捕获了他的身心，从没有这样强烈希望他最好是其他什么人，任何其他人……
空荡荡的壁炉突然闪现出绿色的火焰，哈利从门口快速离开，他盯着炉火中出现的男人。丹伯多高大的身影走了出来，四周墙上的巫师（画像）们立刻醒来，其中很多人高声欢迎着。
“谢谢”，丹伯多柔和的说。
他起初并没有看哈利，只是走到门边的高架旁，从礼服内兜里掏出弗克斯（凤凰）那细小、丑陋、没有羽毛的身体并轻轻地放到本来弗克斯停放的架子边的灰烬上。
“好吧，哈利”，丹伯多终于从小凤凰边离开，“你会感到很高兴你的所有同伴中昨夜事件中没人持续受到伤害。”
哈利试着说“好”但却没有发出任何声音，对他来说似乎丹伯多在提醒他自己带来的伤害，而且尽管丹伯多一度直接看着他，尽管他的神情很温和而没有任何指控的味道， 哈利仍旧无法忍受与他的视线相接。 “珀弗瑞夫人会修复所有人”，丹伯多说，“纳菲达拉·坦克可能需要在圣·蒙戈医院住一段时间，但看上去她会恢复如初。”
哈利满足的朝地毯点着头，由于外面的天空渐渐变亮地毯看上去也清晰了很多。他确信屋子里的所有巫师都仔细听着丹伯多说的每一个字，疑惑丹伯多和哈利去了什么地方，还有为什么会有人受伤。
“我了解你的感受，哈利”，丹伯多平静的说。
“不，你不了解”，哈利猛然高声说到，内心中的烈火爆发了，丹伯多一点儿也不了解他的感受。
“你知道，丹伯多？”，非涅斯·尼古拉斯悄悄地说，“不要试图去了解学生，他们恨这个。他们更希望哪怕是悲剧性的误解，在自怜中打滚，把自己闷在心里。”
“够了，尼古拉斯”，丹伯多说。
哈利转过身，背对着丹伯多，看着窗外。他可以看到远方的奎第奇球场。希利斯曾经变形成一条黑狗到那儿看哈利打球……大概是想要来看看哈利是不是打得和它的父亲一样好……哈利还没来得及问过……
“不必感到内疚，哈利”，丹伯多说，“相反……感守这种悲伤的事实正是你的最大力量。”
哈利感到胸中的火焰席卷着， 在恐惧的空虚中燃烧着，使他充满想要伤害显得平静地说着空洞的话的丹伯多的愿望。 “我最大的力量吗？”,他看着奎地奇球场却视而不见，声音颤抖着，“你不明白……你不知道……”
“我不知道什么？丹伯多平静地问。
太多了，哈利转身，暴躁地颤栗着。
“我现在不想谈论自己的感受，好吗？”
“哈利，经受这些保证你成为一个男人！这种痛苦是成为人地一部分……”
“那么，我不想做人！”，哈利咆哮着，抓起旁边的银色仪器扔出去，仪器撞到墙上变成碎片落到地上，一些肖像惊怒地叫起来，阿莫多……迪派特的肖像说，“真的！”
“我不在意！”，哈利对他们大吼，抓起一个用亮镜并把它扔到火炉里，“我受够了，我看够了，我想出去，我想一切结束，我只想一切都结束，我不再关心他……”
他抓起那张摆放银色仪器的桌子并扔出去，桌子跌落在地上，桌子腿散向各个方向。
“你确实关心，”丹伯多说，他没有畏缩，没有一点举动来阻止哈利破坏他的房间，他的神情仍旧那么平静，甚至是有些冷漠。“你非常关心以至于由于这种痛苦你甚至想要死。”
“我不是！”，哈利尖叫，如此大声以至于他感到自己的喉咙可能撕裂，一段时间他甚至想要冲向丹伯多并攻击他，打碎他那张平静的脸，伤害他，使他内心感到少许的恐慌。
“是的，你是”，邓多不儿更加平静，“你现在失去了你的母亲，你的父亲，还有你所知道的父亲的所有隐秘的东西，你当然关心！”
“你不知道我的感觉！”，哈利大喊，“你站在这儿，你……”
然而语言已不够，打碎东西也毫无帮助，他想要跑开，再也不想回头，他想要到一个再也看不到面前这双注视着他的明亮的蓝色眼睛的地方，还有那张可恨的平静的老脸。他转身冲向门，抓住门把手并努力扭转它。
门仍旧无法被打来。
哈利回身面对丹伯多。
“让我出去”，他说，从头到脚颤抖不止。
“不”，丹伯多简单的说。
他们彼此对视了一段时间。
“让我出去”，哈利再说。
“不”，丹伯多重复。
“如果你不……如果你继续把我关在这儿……如果你不让我……”
“随便继续破坏我的房间”，丹伯多说，“我敢说我有太多了。”
他走向自己的椅子坐下来，之后看着哈利。
“让我出去”，哈利再次说，语气很冷甚至象丹伯多一样平静。
“直到听我说完”，丹伯多说
“你……你以为我想……你想我给……我不关心你想说的事！”，哈利咆哮，“不想听你说的任何事！”
“你会的”,丹伯多平静的说，“因为你并不象你应该的那样生气我，如果你真的想要攻击我，象我知道你差点那样做的那次，我会完完全全的知道。”
“你说什么……”
“希利斯的死是我的错误”，丹伯多说，“或者我该说，差不多全是我的错误……我不该如此高傲的相信自己处理所有事情的能力。希利斯是一个勇敢、聪明、热血的男人，那样的人不会满足于他们确信同伴处于危险时自己仍旧坐在屋子里，然而，假如我先公开告诉你的话，你将不会相信对于你来说今夜去神秘事务部是确实急迫的，哈利，我其实应该那样，你应该早点知道伏地魔很早以前就想引诱你去神秘事务部，那样今夜你就不会中计前往了，希里斯也就不用跟着去了，过失在我，仅仅在于我一个人。”
哈利仍旧站在门边，手仍旧扶在把手上，但他已经无法意识到这些了。他凝视着丹伯多，几乎无法呼吸，几乎无法理解自己听到的话。
“请坐”，丹伯多说。这不是命令，这是请求。
哈利犹豫片刻，之后慢慢走过一片杂乱的房间，坐到面对丹伯多的椅子上。
“我是否可以这样理解”，非涅斯·尼古拉斯在哈利的左边慢慢说，“我的小孙子，布莱克家族最后的一员，已经死了？”
“是的，非涅斯”，丹伯多说。
“我无法相信”，非涅斯直率的说。
哈利转身，看到菲涅斯离开了它的画框，知道他肯定是去拜访格里墨德家（希里斯老家，凤凰令总部）的他的另一幅画象去了，可能他在家里的所有画框中漫步，呼唤希里斯的名字。
“哈利，我欠你一个解释”，丹伯多说，“一个有关老人的错误的说明。因为我现在发现我其实应该早些这样做，事实上却没有，因而对你非常抱歉，这个错误是由于年老造成的，你不会了解老年人的感受和想法，但是老人若忘记了他们也曾经年轻却是犯罪……而我恰恰是忘记了”
太阳此刻正在升起，山峰被勾上了一圈明显的橙色边沿，上面的天空则颜色渐少只是越发地明亮起来。光芒照射到丹伯多，照到他银白色的眉毛和胡须，照到他脸上深深的皱纹。
“我猜想，十五年前”，丹伯多说，“当我看到你额头上的伤痕时，我猜这是你和伏地魔之间的一种纽带。”
“你以前告诉过我这些，教授！”，哈利坦率的说，他不介意显得粗鲁，他不再介意任何事情。
“是的”，丹伯多道歉，“是的，可是你看，必须从你的伤疤开始说起。明显的，当你重返魔法社会后，我的猜测被证明是对的，当伏地魔接近你或是他情绪激动的时候，你的伤疤给你预警。”
“我知道”，哈利厌倦的说。
“这是你的能力—探测伏地魔的存在，即使是他伪装起来，并且当他情绪激动的时候可以知道他的想法。当伏地魔取回他的身体并恢复魔力之后，这就越来越明显。”
哈利厌倦点头，这些他早就知道。
“最近”，丹伯多说，“我开始担心伏地魔可能它与你之间存在这种联系，很显然，你多次进入他的思想使其可以注意到这点，当然，我想说的就是那夜你目睹魏斯利先生受到攻击的那次。”
“嗯，斯内普告诉我了，”，哈利低语。
“斯内普教授，哈利”，丹伯多纠正他，“你是否想过为什么直到现在我才象你解释这些？为什么我不亲自教你心灵防卫术？为什么我数月都不去看你呢？”
哈利望过去，他可以看出现在丹伯多有些悲伤和疲倦。
“是的”，哈利低语，“我想过。”
“你知道”，丹伯多接着说，“我相信不用多久伏地魔就会试图进入你的内心，操作并误导你的思维，我不能再给他这样做的激励，我想象如果他知道你我之间的关系不仅仅是校长和学生，他将抓住机会通过你探测我。我担心他对你的用法，他可能尝试用来控制你的可能性，我想有一天或者当我们过于接近的时候伏地魔会控制你并使用你的想法是正确的。我想我在你的眼中看到了他的影子……”
哈利记起那天当他与丹伯多的视线想遇时他感到一条睡眠中的蛇似乎从内心中升起、准备好攻击的感觉，“伏地魔支配你的目标，就象他今夜演示的那样，并不会带来我的毁灭，但是将会带给你毁灭。他希望，简单控制你一段时间时，我会牺牲你以试图消灭他，所以你看，我试图与你保持距离来保护你，哈利，一个老人的错误……”
他深深地叹息。哈利让这些话语流淌而过，如果一个月前听到这些他会非常感兴趣，然而现在与内心中因为希利斯的死带来的裂痕相比这显得毫无意义，一定也不重要……
“希利斯告诉我当你梦到阿瑟·威斯利先生遭到攻击的那夜你感到伏地魔从你内心中醒来了，我立刻就想到我的担心是正确的，伏地魔已经认识到他可以利用你，为了避免你被伏地魔操控，我安排了斯内普教授的心灵防卫课。”
他暂停下来，哈利看着在丹伯多精致桌子上缓缓流动的阳光，阳光照亮银色的墨水瓶和红色的羽毛笔。哈利知道他们身边的所有肖像都清醒的倾听着丹伯多的解说，他可以听到礼服偶尔发出的摩擦声，轻轻的咳嗽声。
菲涅斯·尼古拉斯仍旧没有回来……
“斯内普教授发现”，丹伯多接着说，“你曾经梦到神秘事务部的房门。当然，伏地魔重新获得声体后已经听到过那个预言，所以他知道那扇门，所以你也知道了，尽管你并不知道这究竟意味着什么。”
“接着，你看到了被捕前在神秘事务部工作的卢克伍德告诉伏地魔之前我们都知道的事情，即是魔法部预言球的保护非常严格，只有那些具体所指的人才可以从架子上不用忍受疯狂地拿起它们，这样，或者伏地魔冒着暴露的危险亲自进入魔法部，或者是你替他去拿。这样你必须学会心灵防卫术就显得尤其紧迫了。”
“可是我没学会”，哈利抱怨道。他说地尽量大声以试着释放出心中沉重的内疚，坦白明显减轻了他心中可怕的压力，“我没有练习，我不耐烦，我应该让自己不再做那些梦，就象荷米恩劝告我的那样，假如我没有梦到我该去哪里，希利斯也就不会……希利斯也就不会……”
什么东西在哈利头脑中爆发了，需要替自己辩护，需要解释……
“我尽量验证他是不是真的抓住了希利斯，我去了安柏芝教授的办公室，通过炉火与克里奇（希利斯家的精灵）谈了话，他告诉我希利斯不在而且说他已经去了！”
“克里奇说了慌”，丹伯多平静地说，“你并不是它的主人，他不用惩罚自己就可以对你撒谎，克里奇希望你去魔法部。”
“他……他故意让我去？”
“是的，恐怕克里奇数月来就不服侍一个主人了。”
“怎么可能？”，哈利茫然地说，“他好几年没离开过格里墨德了。”
“圣诞节前不久克里奇找到了机会”，邓多不尔说，“当希利斯表面上对他说‘出去！’的时候，他故意曲解了希利斯的话，假装这是让他离开房间的命令，他去了另一个他更加尊敬的布莱克家族成员那里—希利斯的堂妹纳希雅，贝拉赛斯的妹妹，同时也是卢希思·麦非伊的妻子。”
“你怎么会知道这些？”，哈利说，他的心跳得很快，他感到不舒服。他记起圣诞节时对克里奇缺席的担心，记起了他在阁楼里的重新出现。
“克里奇昨夜告诉我的”，丹伯多说，“你知道，当你给了斯内普教授警告之后，他体会到你梦到西利斯被抓到了神秘事务部，他，象你一样，立刻试着和希利斯联络，我解释一下凤凰令组织成员之间有比安柏芝房间中
收听单词发音 |
1
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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buckled
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| a. 有带扣的 | |
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resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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banking
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| n.银行业，银行学，金融业 | |
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grunting
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| 咕哝的，呼噜的 | |
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shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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interrogated
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| v.询问( interrogate的过去式和过去分词 )；审问；（在计算机或其他机器上）查询 | |
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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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benignly
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| adv.仁慈地，亲切地 | |
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esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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parasite
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| n.寄生虫；寄生菌；食客 | |
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writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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lasting
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| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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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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tragically
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| adv. 悲剧地，悲惨地 | |
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stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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determinedly
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| adv.决意地；坚决地，坚定地 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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flinched
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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demolishing
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| v.摧毁( demolish的现在分词 )；推翻；拆毁（尤指大建筑物）；吃光 | |
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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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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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gouged
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| v.凿( gouge的过去式和过去分词 )；乱要价；（在…中）抠出…；挖出… | |
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mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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incentives
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| 激励某人做某事的事物( incentive的名词复数 )； 刺激； 诱因； 动机 | |
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dormant
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| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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illuminate
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| vt.照亮，照明；用灯光装饰；说明，阐释 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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quill
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| n.羽毛管；v.给（织物或衣服）作皱褶 | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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obsessed
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| adj.心神不宁的,鬼迷心窍的,沉迷的 | |
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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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ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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cryptic
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| adj.秘密的，神秘的，含义模糊的 | |
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bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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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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moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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enchantments
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| n.魅力( enchantment的名词复数 )；迷人之处；施魔法；着魔 | |
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numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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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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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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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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constricted
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| adj.抑制的，约束的 | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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criticise
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| v.批评，评论；非难 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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81
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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83
taunts
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| 嘲弄的言语，嘲笑，奚落( taunt的名词复数 ) | |
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snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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85
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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86
soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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87
disapproving
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| adj.不满的，反对的v.不赞成( disapprove的现在分词 ) | |
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88
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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89
outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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90
reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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91
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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92
condemning
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| v.（通常因道义上的原因而）谴责( condemn的现在分词 )；宣判；宣布…不能使用；迫使…陷于不幸的境地 | |
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93
vanquish
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| v.征服，战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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94
vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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95
invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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96
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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97
grudgingly
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98
unwillingly
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| adv.不情愿地 | |
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99
pact
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| n.合同，条约，公约，协定 | |
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100
pampered
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| adj.饮食过量的，饮食奢侈的v.纵容，宠，娇养( pamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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101
undoing
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| n.毁灭的原因，祸根；破坏，毁灭 | |
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102
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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103
acquitted
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| 宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（自己）作出某种表现 | |
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104
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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105
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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106
repel
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| v.击退，抵制，拒绝，排斥 | |
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107
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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108
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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109
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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110
opaque
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| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
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111
glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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112
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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113
applicant
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| n.申请人，求职者，请求者 | |
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114
divination
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| n.占卜，预测 | |
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115
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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116
courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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117
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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118
tormenting
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| 使痛苦的，使苦恼的 | |
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119
strands
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| n.（线、绳、金属线、毛发等的）股( strand的名词复数 )；缕；海洋、湖或河的)岸；（观点、计划、故事等的）部份v.使滞留，使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
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120
swirl
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| v.(使)打漩，(使)涡卷；n.漩涡，螺旋形 | |
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121
prodded
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| v.刺，戳( prod的过去式和过去分词 )；刺激；促使；（用手指或尖物）戳 | |
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122
revolved
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| v.（使）旋转( revolve的过去式和过去分词 )；细想 | |
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123
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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124
revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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125
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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126
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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127
creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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128
eavesdropper
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| 偷听者 | |
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129
foretelling
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的现在分词 ) | |
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130
detests
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的第三人称单数 ) | |
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131
trickling
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| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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