For or the rest of the week's Potions lessons Harry1 continued to follow the Half-Blood Prince's instructions wherever they deviated2 from Libatius Borage's, with the
result that by their fourth lesson Slughorn was raving3 about Harry's abilities, saying that he had rarely taught anyone so talented. Neither Ron nor Hermione was
delighted by this. Although Harry had offered to share his book with both of them, Ron had more difficulty deciphering the handwriting than Harry did, and could not
keep asking Harry to read aloud or it might look suspicious. Hermione, meanwhile, was resolutely4 plowing5 on with what she called the “official” instructions, but
becoming increasingly bad-tempered6 as they yielded poorer results than the Prince's.
Harry wondered vaguely7 who the Half-Blood Prince had been. Although the amount of homework they had been given prevented him from reading the whole of his copy of
Advanced Potion-Making, he had skimmed through it sufficiently8 to see that there was barely a page on which the Prince had not made additional notes, not all of them
concerned with potion-making. Here and there were directions for what looked like spells that the Prince had made up himself.
“Or herself,” said Hermione irritably9, overhearing Harry pointing some of these out to Ron in the common room on Saturday evening. “It might have been a girl. I
think the handwriting looks more like a girl's than a boy's.”
“The Half-Blood Prince, he was called,” Harry said. “How many girls have been princes?”
Hermione seemed to have no answer to this. She merely scowled10 and twitched12 her essay on “The Principles of Rematerialization” away from Ron, who was trying to read it
upside down.
Harry looked at his watch and hurriedly put the old copy of Advanced Potion-Making back into his bag.
“It's five to eight, I'd better go, I'll be late for Dumbledore.”
“Ooooh!” gasped13 Hermione, looking up at once. “Good luck! We'll wait up, we want to hear what he teaches you!”
“Hope it goes okay,” said Ron, and the pair of them watched Harry leave through the portrait hole.
Harry proceeded through deserted14 corridors, though he had to step hastily behind a statue when Professor Trelawney appeared around a corner, muttering to herself as she
shuffled15 a pack of dirty-looking playing cards, reading them as she walked.
“Two of spades: conflict,” she murmured, as she passed the place where Harry crouched16, hidden. “Seven of spades: an ill omen17. Ten of spades: violence. Knave18 of
spades: a dark young man, possibly troubled, one who dislikes the questioner —”
She stopped dead, right on the other side of Harry's statue.
“Well, that can't be right,” she said, annoyed, and Harry heard her reshuffling vigorously as she set off again, leaving nothing but a whiff of cooking sherry behind
her. Harry waited until he was quite sure she had gone, then hurried off again until he reached the spot in the seventh-floor corridor where a single gargoyle19 stood
against the wall.
“Acid Pops,” said Harry, and the gargoyle leapt aside; the wall behind it slid apart, and a moving spiral stone staircase was revealed, onto which Harry stepped, so
that he was carried in smooth circles up to the door with the brass20 knocker that led to Dumbledore's Office.
Harry knocked.
“Come in,” said Dumbledore s voice.
“Good evening, sir,” said Harry, walking into the Headmaster's office.
“Ah, good evening, Harry. Sit down,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “I hope you've had an enjoyable first week back at school?”
“Yes, thanks, sir,” said Harry.
“You must have been busy, a detention21 under your belt already!”
“Er,” began Harry awkwardly, but Dumbledore did not look too stern.
“I have arranged with Professor Snape that you will do your detention next Saturday instead.”
“Right,” said Harry, who had more pressing matters on his mind than Snape's detention, and now looked around surreptitiously for some indication of what Dumbledore
was planning to do with him this evening. The circular office looked just as it always did; the delicate silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, puffing22
smoke and whirring; portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses dozed23 in their frames, and Dumbledore's magnificent phoenix24, Fawkes, stood on his perch25 behind
the door, watching Harry with bright interest. It did not even look as though Dumbledore had cleared a space for dueling26 practice.
“So, Harry,” said Dumbledore, in a businesslike voice. “You have been wondering, I am sure, what I have planned for you during these—for want of a better word —
lessons?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, I have decided27 that it is time, now that you know what prompted Lord Voldemort to try and kill you fifteen years ago, for you to be given certain information.”
There was a pause.
“You said, at the end of last term, you were going to tell me everything,” said Harry. It was hard to keep a note of accusation28 from his voice. “Sir,” he added.
“And so I did,” said Dumbledore placidly29. “I told you everything I know. From this point forth30, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying
together through the murky31 marshes32 of memory into thickets33 of wildest guesswork. From here on in, Harry, I may be as woefully wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who believed
the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron.”
“But you think you're right?” said Harry.
“Naturally I do, but as I have already proven to you, I make mistakes like the next man. In fact, being — forgive me—rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend
to be correspondingly huger.”
“Sir,” said Harry tentatively, “does what you're going to tell me have anything to do with the prophecy? Will it help me... survive?”
“It has a very great deal to do with the prophecy,” said Dumbledore, as casually34 as if Harry had asked him about the next day's weather, “and I certainly hope that
it will help you to survive.”
Dumbledore got to his feet and walked around the desk, past Harry, who turned eagerly in his seat to watch Dumbledore bending over the cabinet beside the door. When
Dumbledore straightened up, he was holding a familiar shallow stone basin etched with odd markings around its rim35. He placed the Pensieve on the desk in front of Harry.
“You look worried.”
Harry had indeed been eyeing the Pensieve with some apprehension36. His previous experiences with the odd device that stored and revealed thoughts and memories, though
highly instructive, had also been uncomfortable. The last time he had disturbed its contents, he had seen much more than he would have wished. But Dumbledore was
smiling.
“This time, you enter the Pensieve with me... and, even more unusually, with permission.”
“Where are we going, sir?”
“For a trip down Bob Ogden's memory lane,” said Dumbledore, pulling from his pocket a crystal bottle containing a swirling37 silvery-white substance.
“Who was Bob Ogden?”
“He was employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” said Dumbledore. “He died some time ago, but not before I had tracked him down and persuaded him to
confide38 these recollections to me. We are about to accompany him on a visit he made in the course of his duties. If you will stand, Harry ...”
But Dumbledore was having difficulty pulling out the stopper of the crystal bottle: his injured hand seemed stiff and painful.
“Shall —shall I, sir?”
“No matter, Harry —”
Dumbledore pointed39 his wand at the bottle and the cork40 flew out.
“Sir—how did you injure your hand?” Harry asked again, looking at the blackened fingers with a mixture of revulsion and pity.
“Now is not the moment for that story, Harry. Not yet. We have an appointment with Bob Ogden.”
Dumbledore tipped the silvery contents of the bottle into the Pensieve, where they swirled41 and shimmered42, neither liquid nor gas. “After you,” said Dumbledore,
gesturing toward the bowl.
Harry bent43 forward, took a deep breath, and plunged44 his face into the silvery substance. He felt his feet leave the office floor; he was falling, falling through
whirling darkness and then, quite suddenly, he was blinking in dazzling sunlight. Before his eyes had adjusted, Dumbledore landed beside him.
They were standing45 in a country lane bordered by high, tangled46 hedgerows, beneath a summer sky as bright and blue as a forget-me-not. Some ten feet in front of them
stood a short, plump man wearing enormously thick glasses that reduced his eyes to molelike specks48. He was reading a wooden signpost that was sticking out of the
brambles on the left-hand side of the road. Harry knew this must be Ogden; he was the only person in sight, and he was also wearing the strange assortment49 of clothes so
often chosen by inexperienced wizards trying to look like Muggles: in this case, a frock coat and spats51 over a striped one-piece bathing costume. Before Harry had time
to do more than register his bizarre appearance, however, Ogden had set off at a brisk walk down the lane.
Dumbledore and Harry followed. As they passed the wooden sign, Harry looked up at its two arms. The one pointing back the way they had come read: “Great Hangleton, 5
miles". The arm pointing after Ogden said “Little Hangleton, 1 mile".
They walked a short way with nothing to see but the hedgerows, the wide blue sky overhead and the swishing, frock-coated figure ahead. Then the lane curved to the left
and fell away, sloping steeply down a hillside, so that they had a sudden, unexpected view of a whole valley laid out in front of them. Harry could see a village,
undoubtedly52 Little Hangleton, nestled between two steep hills, its church and graveyard53 clearly visible. Across the valley, set on the opposite hillside, was a handsome
manor54 house surrounded by a wide expanse of velvety55 green lawn.
Ogden had broken into a reluctant trot56 due to the steep downward slope. Dumbledore lengthened57 his stride, and Harry hurried to keep up. He thought Little Hangleton must
be their final destination and wondered, as he had done on the night they had found Slughorn, why they had to approach it from such a distance. He soon discovered that
he was mistaken in thinking that they were going to the village, however. The lane curved to the right and when they rounded the corner, it was to see the very edge of
Ogden's frock coat vanishing through a gap in the hedge.
Dumbledore and Harry followed him onto a narrow dirt track bordered by higher and wilder hedgerows than those they had left behind. The path was crooked58, rocky, and
potholed, sloping downhill like the last one, and it seemed to be heading for a patch of dark trees a little below them. Sure enough, the track soon opened up at the
copse, and Dumbledore and Harry came to a halt behind Ogden, who had stopped and drawn59 his wand.
Despite the cloudless sky, the old trees ahead cast deep, dark, cool shadows, and it was a few seconds before Harry's eyes discerned the building half-hidden amongst
the tangle47 of trunks. It seemed to him a very strange location to choose for a house, or else an odd decision to leave the trees growing nearby, blocking all light and
the view of the valley below. He wondered whether it was inhabited; its walls were mossy and so many tiles had fallen off the roof that the rafters were visible in
places. Nettles60 grew all around it, their tips reaching the windows, which were tiny and thick with grime. Just as he had concluded that nobody could possibly live
there, however, one of the windows was thrown open with a clatter61, and a thin trickle62 of steam or smoke issued from it, as though somebody was cooking.
Ogden moved forward quietly and, it seemed to Harry, rather cautiously. As the dark shadows of the trees slid over him, he stopped again, staring at the front door, to
which somebody had nailed a dead snake.
Then there was a rustle63 and a crack, and a man in rags dropped from the nearest tree, landing on his feet right in front of Ogden, who leapt backward so fast he stood
on the tails of his frock coat and stumbled.
“You're not welcome.”
The man standing before them had thick hair so matted with dirt it could have been any color. Several of his teeth were missing. His eyes were small and dark and stared
in opposite directions. He might have looked comical, but he did not; the effect was frightening, and Harry could not blame Ogden for backing away several more paces
“Er—good morning. I'm from the Ministry65 of Magic —”
“You're not welcome.”
“Er—I'm sorry... I don't understand you,” said Ogden nervously66.
Harry thought Ogden was being extremely dim; the stranger was making himself very clear in Harry's opinion, particularly as he was brandishing67 a wand in one hand and a
short and rather bloody68 knife in the other.
“You understand him, I'm sure, Harry?” said Dumbledore quietly.
“Yes, of course,” said Harry, slightly nonplussed69. “Why can't Ogden—?”
But as his eyes found the dead snake on the door again, he suddenly understood.
“He's speaking Parseltongue?”
“Very good,” said Dumbledore, nodding and smiling.
The man in rags was now advancing on Ogden, knife in one hand, wand in the other.
“Now, look —” Ogden began, but too late: there was a bang, and Ogden was on the ground, clutching his nose, while a nasty yellowish goo squirted from between his
fingers.
“Morfin!” said a loud voice.
An elderly man had come hurrying out of the cottage, banging the door behind him so that the dead snake swung pathetically. This man was shorter than the first, and
oddly proportioned; his shoulders were very broad and his arms overlong, which, with his bright brown eyes, short scrubby hair, and wrinkled face, gave him the look of
a powerful, aged70 monkey. He came to a halt beside the man with the knife, who was now cackling with laughter at the sight of Ogden on the ground.
“Ministry, is it?” said the older man, looking down at Ogden.
“Correct!” said Ogden angrily, dabbing71 his face. “And you, I take it, are Mr. Gaunt?”
“'S right,” said Gaunt. “Got you in the face, did he?”
“Yes, he did!” snapped Ogden.
“Should've made your presence known, shouldn't you?” said Gaunt aggressively. “This is private property. Can't just walk in here and not expect my son to defend
himself.”
“Defend himself against what, man?” said Ogden, clambering back to his feet.
“Busybodies. Intruders. Muggles and filth72.”
Ogden pointed his wand at his own nose, which was still issuing large amounts of what looked like yellow pus, and the flow stopped at once. Mr. Gaunt spoke out of the
corner of his mouth to Morfin.
”Get in the house. Don't argue.”
This time, ready for it, Harry recognized Parseltongue; even while he could understand what was being said, he distinguished73 the weird74 hissing75 noise that was all Ogden
could hear. Morfin seemed to be on the point of disagreeing, but when his father cast him a threatening look he changed his mind, lumbering76 away to the cottage with an
odd rolling gait and slamming the front door behind him, so that the snake swung sadly again.
“It's your son I'm here to see, Mr. Gaunt,” said Ogden, as he mopped the last of the pus from the front of his coat. “That was Morfin, wasn't it?”
“Ar, that was Morfin,” said the old man indifferently. “Are you pure-blood?” he asked, suddenly aggressive.
“That's neither here nor there,” said Ogden coldly, and Harry felt his respect for Ogden rise.
Apparently77 Gaunt felt rather differently. He squinted78 into Ogden's face and muttered, in what was clearly supposed to be an offensive tone, “Now I come to think about
it, I've seen noses like yours down in the village.”
“I don't doubt it, if your son's been let loose on them,” said Ogden. “Perhaps we could continue this discussion inside?”
“Inside?”
“Yes, Mr. Gaunt. I've already told you. I'm here about Morfin. We sent an owl11 —”
“I've no use for owls,” said Gaunt. “I don't open letters.”
“Then you can hardly complain that you get no warning of visitors,” said Ogden tartly79. “I am here following a serious breach80 of Wizarding law, which occurred here in
the early hours of this morning —”
“All right, all right, all right!” bellowed81 Gaunt. “Come in the bleeding house, then, and much good it'll do you!”
The house seemed to contain three tiny rooms. Two doors led off the main room, which served as kitchen and living room combined. Morfin was sitting in a filthy82 armchair
beside the smoking fire, twisting a live adder83 between his thick fingers and crooning softly at it in Parseltongue:
Hissy, hissy, little snakey,
Slither on the floor
You be good to Morfin
Or he'll nail you to the door.
There was a scuffling noise in the corner beside the open window, and Harry realized that there was somebody else in the room, a girl whose ragged84 gray dress was the
exact color of the dirty stone wall behind her. She was standing beside a steaming pot on a grimy black stove, and was fiddling85 around with the shelf of squalid-looking
pots and pans above it. Her hair was lank86 and dull and she had a plain, pale, rather heavy face. Her eyes, like her brother's, stared in opposite directions. She looked
a little cleaner than the two men, but Harry thought he had never seen a more defeated-looking person.
“M'daughter, Merope,” said Gaunt grudgingly87, as Ogden looked inquiringly toward her.
“Good morning,” said Ogden.
She did not answer, but with a frightened glance at her father turned her back on the room and continued shifting the pots on the shelf behind her.
“Well, Mr. Gaunt,” said Ogden, “to get straight to the point, we have reason to believe that your son, Morfin, performed magic in front of a Muggle late last night.
”
There was a deafening88 clang. Merope had dropped one of the pots.
“Pick it up!” Gaunt bellowed at her. “That's it, grub on the floor like some filthy Muggle, what's your wand for, you useless sack of muck?”
“Mr. Gaunt, please!” said Ogden in a shocked voice, as Merope, who had already picked up the pot, flushed blotchily scarlet89, lost her grip on the pot again, drew her
wand shakily from her pocket, pointed it at the pot, and muttered a hasty, inaudible spell that caused the pot to shoot across the floor away from her, hit the opposite
wall, and crack in two.
Morfin let out a mad cackle of laughter. Gaunt screamed, “Mend it, you pointless lump, mend it!”
Merope stumbled across the room, but before she had time to raise her wand, Ogden had lifted his own and said firmly, “Reparo.” The pot mended itself instantly.
Gaunt looked for a moment as though he was going to shout at Ogden, but seemed to think better of it: instead, he jeered90 at his daughter, “Lucky the nice man from the
Ministry's here, isn't it? Perhaps he'll take you off my hands, perhaps he doesn't mind dirty Squibs...”
Without looking at anybody or thanking Ogden, Merope picked up the pot and returned it, hands trembling, to its shelf. She then stood quite still, her back against the
wall between the filthy window and the stove, as though she wished for nothing more than to sink into the stone and vanish.
“Mr. Gaunt,” Ogden began again, “as I've said: the reason for my visit —”
“I heard you the first time!” snapped Gaunt. “And so what? Morfin gave a Muggle a bit of what was coming to him—what about it, then?”
“Morfin has broken Wizarding law,” said Ogden sternly.
“'Morfin has broken Wizarding law.‘” Gaunt imitated Ogden's voice, making it pompous91 and singsong. Morfin cackled again. “He taught a filthy Muggle a lesson, that's
illegal now, is it?”
“Yes,” said Ogden. “I'm afraid it is.”
He pulled from an inside pocket a small scroll92 of parchment and unrolled it.
“What's that, then, his sentence?” said Gaunt, his voice rising angrily.
“It is a summons to the Ministry for a hearing —”
“Summons! Summons? Who do you think you are, summoning my son anywhere?”
“I'm Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad,” said Ogden.
“And you think we're scum, do you?” screamed Gaunt, advancing on Ogden now, with a dirty yellow-nailed finger pointing at his chest. “Scum who'll come running when
the Ministry tells ‘em to? Do you know who you're talking to, you filthy little Mudblood, do you?”
“I was under the impression that I was speaking to Mr. Gaunt,” said Ogden, looking wary93, but standing his ground.
“That's right!” roared Gaunt. For a moment, Harry thought Gaunt was making an obscene hand gesture, but then realized that he was showing Ogden the ugly, black-stoned
ring he was wearing on his middle finger, waving it before Ogden's eyes. “See this? See this? Know what it is? Know where it came from? Centuries it's been in our
family, that's how far back we go, and pure-blood all the way! Know how much I've been offered for this, with the Peverell coat of arms engraved94 on the stone?”
“I've really no idea,” said Ogden, blinking as the ring sailed within an inch of his nose, “and it's quite beside the point, Mr. Gaunt. Your son has committed —”
With a howl of rage, Gaunt ran toward his daughter. For a split second, Harry thought he was going to throttle95 her as his hand flew to her throat; next moment, he was
dragging her toward Ogden by a gold chain around her neck.
“See this?” he bellowed at Ogden, shaking a heavy gold locket at him, while Merope spluttered and gasped for breath.
“I see it, I see it!” said Ogden hastily.
“Slytherins!” yelled Gaunt. “Salazar Slytherin's! We're his last living descendants, what do you say to that, eh?”
“Mr. Gaunt, your daughter!” said Ogden in alarm, but Gaunt had already released Merope; she staggered away from him, back to her corner, massaging96 her neck and
“So!” said Gaunt triumphantly98, as though he had just proved a complicated point beyond all possible dispute. “Don't you go talking to us as if we're dirt on your
shoes! Generations of pure-bloods, wizards all—more than you can say, I don't doubt!”
And he spat50 on the floor at Ogden's feet. Morfin cackled again. Merope, huddled99 beside the window, her head bowed and her face hidden by her lank hair, said nothing.
“Mr. Gaunt,” said Ogden doggedly100, “I am afraid that neither your ancestors nor mine have anything to do with the matter in hand. I am here because of Morfin, Morfin
and the Muggle he accosted101 late last night. Our information"—he glanced down at his scroll of parchment—"is that Morfin performed a jinx or hex on the said Muggle,
causing him to erupt in highly painful hives.”
”Be quiet, boy,” snarled103 Gaunt in Parseltongue, and Morfin fell silent again.
“And so what if he did, then?” Gaunt said defiantly104 to Ogden, “I expect you've wiped the Muggle's filthy face clean for him, and his memory to boot—”
“That's hardly the point, is it, Mr. Gaunt?” said Ogden. “This was an unprovoked attack on a defenseless —”
“Ar, I had you marked out as a Muggle-lover the moment I saw you,” sneered105 Gaunt, and he spat on the floor again.
“This discussion is getting us nowhere,” said Ogden firmly. “It is clear from your son's attitude that he feels no remorse106 for his actions.” He glanced down at his
scroll of parchment again. “Morfin will attend a hearing on the fourteenth of September to answer the charges of using magic in front of a Muggle and causing harm and
distress107 to that same Mugg —”
Ogden broke off. The jingling108, clopping sounds of horses and loud, laughing voices were drifting in through the open window. Apparently the winding109 lane to the village
passed very close to the copse where the house stood. Gaunt froze, listening, his eyes wide. Morfin hissed110 and turned his face toward the sounds, his expression hungry.
Merope raised her head. Her face, Harry saw, was starkly111 white.
“My God, what an eyesore!” rang out a girl's voice, as clearly audible through the open window as if she had stood in the room beside them. “Couldn't your father
have that hovel cleared away, Tom?”
“It's not ours,” said a young man's voice. “Everything on the other side of the valley belongs to us, but that cottage belongs to an old tramp called Gaunt, and his
children. The son's quite mad, you should hear some of the stories they tell in the village —”
The girl laughed. The jingling, clopping noises were growing louder and louder. Morfin made to get out of his armchair.
”Keep your seat,” said his father warningly, in Parseltongue.
“Tom,” said the girl's voice again, now so close they were clearly right beside the house, “I might be wrong—but has somebody nailed a snake to that door?”
“Good lord, you're right!” said the man's voice. “That'll be the son, I told you he's not right in the head. Don't look at it, Cecilia, darling.”
The jingling and clopping sounds were now growing fainter again.
“’Darling,'” whispered Morfin in Parseltongue, looking at his sister. “’Darling, he called her. So he wouldn't have you anyway.”
Merope was so white Harry felt sure she was going to faint.
”What's that?” said Gaunt sharply, also in Parseltongue, looking from his son to his daughter. ”What did you say, Morfin?”
”She likes looking at that Muggle,” said Morfin, a vicious expression on his face as he stared at his sister, who now looked terrified. ”Always in the garden when he
passes, peering through the hedge at him, isn't she? And last night—”
Merope shook her head jerkily, imploringly112, but Morfin went on ruthlessly, ”Hanging out of the window waiting for him to ride home, wasn't she?”
”Hanging out of the window to look at a Muggle?” said Gaunt quietly.
All three of the Gaunts seemed to have forgotten Ogden, who was looking both bewildered and irritated at this renewed outbreak of incomprehensible hissing and rasping.
”Is it true?” said Gaunt in a deadly voice, advancing a step or two toward the terrified girl. ”My daughter—pure-blooded descendant of Salazar Slytherin—hankering
after a filthy, dirt-veined Muggle?”
Merope shook her head frantically114, pressing herself into the wall, apparently unable to speak.
”But I got him, Father!” cackled Morfin. ”I got him as he went by and he didn't look so pretty with hives all over him, did he, Merope?”
”You disgusting little Squib, you filthy little blood traitor115!” roared Gaunt, losing control, and his hands closed around his daughter's throat.
Both Harry and Ogden yelled “No!” at the same time; Ogden raised his wand and cried, “Relaskio!”
Gaunt was thrown backward, away from his daughter; he tripped over a chair and fell flat on his back. With a roar of rage, Morfin leapt out of his chair and ran at
Ogden, brandishing his bloody knife and firing hexes indiscriminately from his wand.
Ogden ran for his life. Dumbledore indicated that they ought to follow and Harry obeyed, Merope's screams echoing in his ears.
Ogden hurtled up the path and erupted onto the main lane, his arms over his head, where he collided with the glossy116 chestnut117 horse ridden by a very handsome, dark-
haired young man. Both he and the pretty girl riding beside him on a gray horse roared with laughter at the sight of Ogden, who bounced off the horse's flank and set
off again, his frock coat flying, covered from head to foot in dust, running pell-mell up the lane.
“I think that will do, Harry,” said Dumbledore. He took Harry by the elbow and tugged118. Next moment, they were both soaring weightlessly through darkness, until they
landed squarely on their feet, back in Dumbledore's now twilit office.
“What happened to the girl in the cottage?” said Harry at once, as Dumbledore lit extra lamps with a flick119 of his wand. “Merope, or whatever her name was?”
“Oh, she survived,” said Dumbledore, reseating himself behind his desk and indicating that Harry should sit down too. “Ogden Apparated back to the Ministry and
returned with reinforcements within fifteen minutes. Morfin and his father attempted to fight, but both were overpowered, removed from the cottage, and subsequently
convicted by the Wizengamot. Morfin, who already had a record of Muggle attacks, was sentenced to three years in Azkaban. Marvolo, who had injured several Ministry
employees in addition to Ogden, received six months.”
“Marvolo?” Harry repeated wonderingly.
“That's right,” said Dumbledore, smiling in approval. “I am glad to see you're keeping up.”
“That old man was—?”
“Voldemort's grandfather, yes,” said Dumbledore. “Marvolo, his son, Morfin, and his daughter, Merope, were the last of the Gaunts, a very ancient Wizarding family
noted121 for a vein113 of instability and violence that flourished through the generations due to their habit of marrying their own cousins. Lack of sense coupled with a
great liking122 for grandeur123 meant that the family gold was squandered124 several generations before Marvolo was born. He, as you saw, was left in squalor and poverty, with a
very nasty temper, a fantastic amount of arrogance125 and pride, and a couple of family heirlooms that he treasured just as much as his son, and rather more than his
daughter.”
“So Merope,” said Harry, leaning forward in his chair and staring at Dumbledore, “so Merope was ... Sir, does that mean she was... Voldemort's mother?”
“It does,” said Dumbledore. “And it so happens that we also had a glimpse of Voldemort's father. I wonder whether you noticed?”
“The Muggle Morfin attacked? The man on the horse?”
“Very good indeed,” said Dumbledore, beaming. “Yes, that was Tom Riddle126 senior, the handsome Muggle who used to go riding past the Gaunt cottage and for whom Merope
Gaunt cherished a secret, burning passion.”
“And they ended up married?” Harry said in disbelief, unable to imagine two people less likely to fall in love.
“I think you are forgetting,” said Dumbledore, “that Merope was a witch. I do not believe that her magical powers appeared to their best advantage when she was being
terrorized by her father. Once Marvolo and Morfin were safely in Azkaban, once she was alone and free for the first time in her life, then, I am sure, she was able to
give full rein120 to her abilities and to plot her escape from the desperate life she had led for eighteen years.”
“Can you not think of any measure Merope could have taken to make Tom Riddle forget his Muggle companion, and fall in love with her instead?”
“The Imperius Curse?” Harry suggested. “Or a love potion?”
“Very good. Personally, I am inclined to think that she used a love potion. I am sure it would have seemed more romantic to her, and I do not think it would have been
very difficult, some hot day, when Riddle was riding alone, to persuade him to take a drink of water. In any case, within a few months of the scene we have just
witnessed, the village of Little Hangleton enjoyed a tremendous scandal. You can imagine the gossip it caused when the squire's son ran off with the tramp's daughter,
Merope.
“But the villagers’ shock was nothing to Marvolo's. He returned from Azkaban, expecting to find his daughter dutifully awaiting his return with a hot meal ready on
his table. Instead, he found a clear inch of dust and her note of farewell, explaining what she had done.
“From all that I have been able to discover, he never mentioned her name or existence from that time forth. The shock of her desertion may have contributed to his
early death—or perhaps he had simply never learned to feed himself. Azkaban had greatly weakened Marvolo, and he did not live to see Morfin return to the cottage.”
“And Merope? She ... she died, didn't she? Wasn't Voldemort brought up in an orphanage127?”
“Yes, indeed,” said Dumbledore. “We must do a certain amount of guessing here, although I do not think it is difficult to deduce what happened. You see, within a few
months of their runaway128 marriage, Tom Riddle reappeared at the manor house in Little Hangleton without his wife. The rumor129 flew around the neighborhood that he was
talking of being ‘hoodwinked’ and ‘taken in.’ What he meant, I am sure, is that he had been under an enchantment130 that had now lifted, though I daresay he did not
dare use those precise words for fear of being thought insane. When they heard what he was saying, however, the villagers guessed that Merope had lied to Tom Riddle,
pretending that she was going to have his baby, and that he had married her for this reason.”
“But she did have his baby.”
“But not until a year after they were married. Tom Riddle left her while she was still pregnant.”
“What went wrong?” asked Harry. “Why did the love potion stop working?”
“Again, this is guesswork,” said Dumbledore, “but I believe that Merope, who was deeply in love with her husband, could not bear to continue enslaving him by magical
means. I believe that she made the choice to stop giving him the potion. Perhaps, besotted as she was, she had convinced herself that he would by now have fallen in
love with her in return. Perhaps she thought he would stay for the baby's sake. If so, she was wrong on both counts. He left her, never saw her again, and never
troubled to discover what became of his son.”
The sky outside was inky black and the lamps in Dumbledore's office seemed to glow more brightly than before.
“I think that will do for tonight, Harry,” said Dumbledore after a moment or two.
“Yes, sir,” said Harry.
He got to his feet, but did not leave.
“Sir ... is it important to know all this about Voldemort's past?”
“Very important, I think,” said Dumbledore.
“And it... it's got something to do with the prophecy?”
“It has everything to do with the prophecy.”
“Right,” said Harry, a little confused, but reassured131 all the same.
He turned to go, then another question occurred to him, and he turned back again. “Sir, am I allowed to tell Ron and Hermione everything you've told me?”
Dumbledore considered him for a moment, then said, “Yes, I think Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger have proved themselves trustworthy. But Harry, I am going to ask you to
ask them not to repeat any of this to anybody else. It would not be a good idea if word got around how much I know, or suspect, about Lord Voldemort's secrets.”
“No, sir, I'll make sure it's just Ron and Hermione. Good night.”
He turned away again, and was almost at the door when he saw it. Sitting on one of the little spindle-legged tables that supported so many frail-looking silver
instruments, was an ugly gold ring set with a large, cracked, black stone.
“Sir,” said Harry, staring at it. “That ring—”
“Yes?” said Dumbledore.
“You were wearing it when we visited Professor Slughorn that night.”
“So I was,” Dumbledore agreed.
“But isn't it... sir, isn't it the same ring Marvolo Gaunt showed Ogden?”
Dumbledore bowed his head. “The very same.”
“But how come... have you always had it?”
“No, I acquired it very recently,” said Dumbledore. “A few days before I came to fetch you from your aunt and uncle's, in fact.”
“That would be around the time you injured your hand, then, sir?”
“Around that time, yes, Harry.”
Harry hesitated. Dumbledore was smiling.
“Sir, how exactly—?”
“Too late, Harry! You shall hear the story another time. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, sir.”
接下来一周的魔药课里，只要是与莱贝修斯·波里奇的说法有出入的地方，哈利都遵照混血王子的说明改了过来，于是连续四节课之后，斯拉霍恩简直快为哈利的能力而倾倒了，他甚至说自己
很少能教到如此有天分的学生。罗恩和赫敏都不太为此感到高兴。虽然哈利把书借给他们一起看借，可罗恩辨认起那些字迹来要比哈利困难得多，他又不敢老让哈利念给他听，否则看起来就会
很可疑。赫敏也坚定不移地努力遵照着她所谓的“官方的”指示，但结果却总比不上王子的，这让她的脾气越来越坏。
哈利模模糊糊地疑惑着那个混血王子究竟是谁。虽然大量的作业让他没有时间通读那本《高级魔药制备》，他还是把它大致浏览了一番，发现混血王子几乎在每一页上都留下了自己的笔记
，而且也不全是有关魔药制备的。到处都记着咒语的说明，看起来像是他自己编出来的。
“没准是她自己，”星期六晚上在公共休息室时赫敏暴躁地说，哈利正在把给那些咒语指给罗恩看。“也许是个女孩。我认为那些字迹与其说是男孩的，倒不如说像女孩子的。”
“他叫混血王子，”哈利说，“有哪个女孩子是王子？”
赫敏似乎无言以对。她只是皱着眉头把自己关于“物质重构原理”的论文从罗恩手里拽了回来，他正试着把那篇论文颠倒过来看。
哈利看了看表，把那本破旧的《高级魔药制备》装进了书包里。
“八点差五分，我得走了，否则去邓布利多那儿就要迟到了。”
“哦——！”赫敏抽了一口气，马上抬头看着哈利，“祝你好运！我们等你回来，我们想知道他都教你些什么！”
“希望一切顺利，”罗恩说，他们俩望着哈利钻进了肖像洞。
哈利在没人的走廊上前行，特里劳妮教授突然出现在一个拐角，哈利只好闪身躲到一座雕像后面。她正在洗一副看上去很脏的扑克牌，嘴里一边还在嘟囔着什么。
“黑桃二：战争冲突，”她走过哈利蜷伏的雕像边时喃喃自语地说。“黑桃七：一个凶兆。黑桃十：暴行。黑桃J：一个年轻的黑人，看上去很不安，不喜欢问讯者——”
她在哈利躲藏的雕像对面停住了。
“嗯，这一定不对，”她恼怒地说，哈利听到她又用力地洗了洗牌，又出发了，只留下一股烹调用雪利酒的气味。哈利一直等到她没影了，才一路跑到七楼走廊的那个石兽站的墙边。
“酸棒糖，”哈利说。石兽跳到了一边；身后的墙滑向了一边，露出了一个正在转动的螺旋形的石头楼梯，哈利走了上去，楼梯带着他平稳地旋转上升，一直来到一扇带有一个黄铜门环的
大门前，这扇门通往邓布利多的办公室。
哈利敲了敲门。
“请进，”邓布利多的声音说。
“晚上好，教授，”哈利一边一边走进了校长办公室。
“啊，晚上好，哈利。请坐，”邓布利多微笑着说。“我想你回到学校的第一周过得还愉快吧？”
“是的，谢谢，教授，”哈利说。
“你一定也开始忙了，都已经获得了一次关禁闭！”
“呃……，”哈利有点不知所措，但是邓布利多看上去并不是很严厉。
“我已经和斯内普教授协商好了，你下周去他那儿关禁闭。”
“好的，”哈利心里有比斯内普教授的禁闭更急迫的事情，他正偷偷地环顾着屋子，以期发现什么东西来暗示他今晚邓布利多会教什么。圆形的办公室和平时没什么两样：精致的银色器具
放在长腿桌上，吐出阵阵烟雾，还嗡嗡地转着；历任校长们的肖像在他们的像框中打着瞌睡；邓布利多美丽非凡的凤凰福克斯正在栖木上感兴趣地看着哈利。看上去邓布利多好像没有开辟练习
决斗的场地。
“那么，哈利，”邓布利多有条不紊地说。“我敢肯定你一直想知道我的这些——用个好听点的词——课程都为你准备了些什么？”
“是的，教授。”
“好，我认定现在是时候告诉你某些信息了，既然你已经知道了是什么促使伏地魔15年前试图去杀你。”
他停顿了一下。
“你说过上个学期末要把所有的事情都告诉我的，”哈利说。他很难掩饰自己声音里的指责。“教授，”他补充道。
“所以我这样做了，”邓布利多平静地说。“我把我所知道的一切都告诉了你。从那之后，我们就要一起离开事实的稳固基础，穿过记忆的黑暗沼泽，在毫无根据的猜测的灌木丛中旅行了
。从此，哈利，我就可能和汉弗莱·贝尔彻错得一样惨了，他甚至相信人们会去买他用奶酪做成的坩埚。”（译注：这里原文是一个双关语，邓布利多说那个贝尔彻相信the time is ripe for
a cheese cauldron，字面意思是他相信买奶酪做的大锅的时机已经成熟了，事实上ripe在这里带有双关的含义，他还指如果人们真的买了这样的cauldron放到火上一烤，也就ripe了。这里
ripe修饰了两个东西，翻译的时候不好处理，只取了前一种意思，是邓布利多机智的幽默。）
“但是你认为你是对的？”哈利说。
“自然是的，但是就像你已经看到的那样，我会犯同那个人一样的错误。实际上，作为——见谅——比大多数人都聪明的我，错误来得相应地要更大。”
“教授，”哈利试探性地说，“你准备告诉我的事情和那个预言有关吗？它会帮助我……活下来吗？”
“它和预言有很大的关系，”邓布利多说得就像哈利在问他明天的天气一样随意，“我当然希望它能帮助你活下来。”
邓布利多站了起来，他绕过桌子，经过哈利的身边，哈利在椅子上急切地望着正弯着腰从门边的柜子里取东西的邓布利多。然后邓布利多直起身来，手里端着一个哈利很熟悉的浅石盆，石
盆边缘上刻蚀着奇怪的记号。他把冥想盆放在哈利面前。
“你看上去很担心。”
哈利看冥想盆的目光里的确带着一些忧虑。他上一次在这个储存并显示着记忆与思想的奇怪仪器里的经历虽然很具有启发性，却也令他心乱如麻。他上一次进入容器里的物质时，看到了许
多他连想都不敢想的事。不过邓布利多却在微笑。
“这一次，你和我一起进入冥想盆……而且，更不同于以往的是，在我的允许下。”
“我们要去哪儿，教授？”
“去追溯鲍勃·奥格登的心路历程，”邓布利多从口袋里拿出一个水晶瓶，里面装着正在旋转的银白色物质。
“鲍勃·奥格登是谁？”
“他当时是法律执行司的雇员，”邓布利多说。“他在不久前死了，但是我在他死之前找到了他，并说服他将这段记忆透露给了我。我们将陪伴他去执行一趟公务。请站起来，哈利……”
但是邓布利多似乎拔不出那个水晶瓶的塞子：他受伤的那只手看上去既僵硬又疼痛。
“要——要我来吗，教授？”
“没关系，哈利——”
邓布利多用魔杖指了指瓶子，塞子飞了出来。
“教授——你的手是怎么受伤的？”哈利又问，同时用一种混合着恶心和同情的眼神看着变黑的手指。
“现在还不是讲那个故事的时候，哈利。还没到时候。我们和鲍勃·奥格登还有个约会。”
邓布利多把瓶子里的银色物质倒入冥想盆，它们开始旋转并发出微弱的光，看上去既不是液体，也不是气体。
“我跟在你后面，”邓布利向盆里指了指。
哈利把腰往前弯下，深吸了一口气，把脸浸入了银色的物质中。他感觉自己的脚离开了办公室的地板；正在往下落，往下落，穿过一片旋转着的黑暗，然后，他在明媚的阳光里眨了眨眼，
调整了一下，邓布利多随后到达了他的身边。
他们站在一条由高高的、乱蓬蓬的灌木篱墙围成的乡间小路上。明亮的天空蓝得就像勿忘我一样。他们前面十英尺远的地方站着一个又矮又胖的男人，他戴着厚厚的眼镜，使眼睛看上去就
像鼹鼠的斑点。他正在看着从路左边的荆棘里伸出来的一只木质路标。哈利知道这肯定是奥格登；他是视野里唯一的一个人，而且还穿着没有经验的巫师试图打扮成麻瓜时常常穿的那种奇怪衣
服：这次是，一件男式礼服和一双高筒靴穿在一件印着条纹的连体游泳衣外面。不过，哈利刚记住了他奇异的外表，奥格登就迈着轻快的步子沿小路出发了。
邓布利多和哈利跟在他后面。当他们走过木质路标时，哈利看了看上面的两个指示牌。一个指着他们身后，是来的时候走的路，写着：“大汉格顿，5英里”。另一个指向奥格登，上面写
着：“小汉格顿，1英里”。
他们走了一小段路，除了看见两边的灌木篱墙和头顶上广阔的蓝天，就是眼前那个穿着男式礼服走得飕飕作响的人，然后小路朝左边拐了个弯消失在眼前，他们发现自己正站在一个陡峭的
山坡上，眼前意外地出现了整个山谷的景色。哈利看到了一个小村子——无疑就是小汉格顿——位于两座陡峭的小山之间，能清楚地看到它的教堂和墓地。穿过山谷，在对面的山坡上有一座漂
亮的庄园，四周环绕着宽阔的绿天鹅绒色草坪。
因为斜坡实在太陡，奥格登往下走时不得不一溜小跑。邓布利多也迈大了步子，哈利赶紧快步跟上。他认为小汉格顿就是他们的目的地，于是开始和拜访斯拉霍恩那天一样疑惑为什么他们
要从如此远的地方走过去。然而，不久他就发现自己想错了。小路向右一绕，他们刚拐过弯来，就看见奥格登的礼服消失在篱墙的一个豁口里。
邓布利多跟着他进入了一条脏兮兮的羊肠小道，两边的灌木篱墙比刚才更高更乱了。弯弯的小道上坑坑洼洼地布满了石头，和刚才的斜坡一样陡峭，而且看上去就像是通往一片处在他们下
方的树林。果然，小道马上就把他们带到了那片树林。奥格登停了下来，抽出了魔杖，邓布利多和哈利停在他的身后。
尽管天空中万里无云，但前面的老树丛却投下了一片黑暗、充满了凉意的阴影，几秒钟之后，哈利的眼睛在杂乱的树干之中辨认出了一幢房子。这似乎显得很奇怪，竟然有人选择这样的住
处，或者说任凭那些树长在屋子周围，挡掉所有的光线和山谷的景色。他不知道这儿是否是有人居住；墙上全是青苔，房顶上许多瓦片都掉了下来，有几处甚至可以清楚地看到椽子。房子的周
围长满了荨麻，顶端都已经碰到了布满厚厚尘垢的小窗子。然而正当他断定没有人会住在那儿时，一扇窗户咔哒一声打开了，从里面冒出了袅袅炊烟，似乎有人在做饭。
奥格登静静地往前走了走，看上去相当慎重。他刚走进树影里，又停了下来，盯着那扇前门，上面被人钉了一条死蛇。
随着一阵沙沙声和一声爆响，一个衣衫褴褛的人从最近的一棵树上跳了下来，正落在奥格登的面前，奥格登迅速地往后一跳，脚踩到自己的礼服跌了一跤。
“这里不欢迎你。”
站在他们面前的男人头发浓密，和许多泥巴缠结在一起，看不清到底是什么颜色。他还缺了几颗牙齿。又小又黑的眼睛盯着前方。他看上去本应该很滑稽，但此时却不是那样；这个效果令
人心里有些发毛，难怪奥格登说话时要后退几步。
“呃……早上好。我是来自魔法部的——”
“这里不欢迎你。”
“呃——我很抱歉——我听不懂你的话，”奥格登紧张地说。
哈利觉得奥格登真是太迟钝了；在哈利看来这个陌生人已经把意思表现得非常清楚了，尤其是他还一手挥舞着魔杖，一手握着一把沾血的小刀。
“你肯定能听懂他，哈利？”邓布利多低声说。
“是的，当然，”哈利稍微有点困惑，“奥格登为什么不能——？”
他的目光再次扫到了门上的死蛇，突然间明白了。
“他在说蛇佬腔？”
“非常好，”邓布利多点了点头，笑了。
那个衣着褴褛的男人正在向奥格登逼近，一手拿着刀，一手拿着魔杖。
“现在，留神听好——”奥格登开口说，可是太晚了：砰的一声，奥格登倒在地上用手抓住他的鼻子，一种恶心的黄色粘液从他的指缝里喷了出来。
“摩芬！”一个响亮的声音说。
一个上了年纪的男人急匆匆地从小屋里走出来，猛地关上了身后那扇门，上面的死蛇可怜地摇晃着。这个男人比前一个还要矮，而且身材的比例显得很奇怪；他的肩部很宽，手臂长得有些
过长，他有一双明亮的褐色眼睛，头发又粗又短，脸上布满了皱纹，这使他看上去就像一个精力充沛的老猴子。他走到那个拿着刀的男人身边，那人正冲躺在地上的奥格登咯咯地笑着。
“魔法部，是吧？”那个老人低头盯着奥格登。
“是的！”奥格登捂着脸生气地说。“我猜想，你是刚特先生？”
“对。”刚特说。“他打到了你的脸，是吗？”
“是的，他打了！”奥格登厉声说。
“你应该让我们知道你的到访，不是吗？”刚特盛气凌人地说，“这是私人领地。你不能走进来而不让我的儿子自卫。”
“对谁自卫，老兄？”奥格登从地上爬了起来。
“爱管闲事的人。不请自入的人。麻瓜和污秽的家伙。”
奥格登将魔杖指向了自己还在流出大量黄色脓汁的鼻子，脓汁马上消失了。刚特先生从嘴角对摩芬说，“到屋里去。不许争辩。”
这次，早有准备的哈利听出了蛇佬腔；甚至他除了听懂他们说了些什么之外，还能分辨出奥格登听到的那种嘶嘶声。摩芬似乎正要提出异议，但他父亲恐吓地瞪了他一眼，于是他改了主意
，用一种奇怪的摇晃步伐缓慢地走回了小屋，猛得关上身后的门，那只蛇又悲惨地晃了晃。
“我来这儿是要拜访你的儿子，刚特先生，”奥格登把外套最后的一点脓汁擦掉了。“那个就是摩芬，对吧？”
“啊，那是摩芬，”老人漫不经心地说，“你是纯血统吗？”他突然挑衅地问。
“那和今天的谈话不相干，”奥格登冷冷地说，哈利不禁对奥格登多了几分尊敬。
显然刚特完全不这么想。他斜眼看着奥格登的脸，用一种明显冒犯性的腔调咕哝道，“现在我想起来了，我似乎在山下的村子里见过你这样的鼻子。”
“我不怀疑，如果你放任自己的儿子攻击他们的话，”奥格登说，“也许我们可以进去继续讨论。”
“进去？”
“是的，刚特先生。我已经告诉你了。我来这儿是为了摩芬。我们已经派出了一只猫头鹰——”
“猫头鹰没用，”刚特说。“我不看信。”
“那你就不能抱怨没有接到有人来访的通知了，”奥格登尖锐地说，“我到这儿是因为今天早些时候发生的一起严重违反巫师法律的事件——”
“好吧，好吧，好吧！”刚特吼道。“到这个血腥的屋子里来，有你好受的！”
房子似乎带了三个小房间。同时用作客厅和厨房的主厅开着两扇门。摩芬坐在一张脏扶手椅上，靠着烟雾缭绕的火炉，正在用粗糙的手指摆弄着一条活的蝮蛇，还用蛇佬腔轻轻地吟唱着：
“嘶嘶，嘶嘶，亲爱的小蛇，
你在地上唱着歌，
要对摩芬好一点呵，
否则他就要把你钉上门板了。”
在敞开的窗子旁边的一个角落里，传来一阵拖着脚走路的声音，哈利这才意识到屋子里还有别人，一个女孩穿着一身破破烂烂的连衣裙，颜色简直和她身后肮脏的石墙一模一样。她正站在
一个脏兮兮的黑色炉子旁边，上面放着一个冒着蒸汽的壶。与上方的架子里摆的那些看上去破败不堪的壶和平底锅相比，她显得有些微不足道。她的头细长而干枯，一张脸看起来朴素、苍白而
又阴沉。一双眼睛和他的哥哥一样，直愣愣地盯着前方。她和两个男人比起来稍微干净一点，但是哈利还是觉得她是他见过的最惨的人。
“我女儿，梅洛，”看到奥格登怀疑地望着她，刚特只好不情愿地说。
“早上好，”奥格登说。
她没有回答，只是惊恐地看了她父亲一眼，就转身背对着房间，继续搬动她身后架子上的罐子去了。
“好了，刚特先生，”奥格登说，“直接切入正题，我们有理由相信你的儿子摩芬昨天深夜在一个麻瓜面前施了魔法。”
突然传来一个震耳欲聋的咣当声。梅洛手里一个罐子掉在了地上。
“捡起来！”刚特对她吼道。“就这样吗，像肮脏的麻瓜一样从地上捡，你的魔杖是干嘛的，你这一无是处的垃圾？”
“刚特先生，请别这样！”奥格登震惊地说，这时梅洛已经捡起了罐子，脸上泛起了点点红晕，她把握在手里的罐子又掉在了地上，颤抖着从口袋里抽出魔杖，指着罐子匆匆地嘀咕了一句
咒语，罐子从地面上猛地飞离了她，撞到对面的墙上裂成了两半。
摩芬发出了疯狂的笑声。刚特尖声叫道，“修好它，你这个没用的蠢货，修好它！”
梅洛跌跌撞撞地穿过房间，但在她举起魔杖之前，奥格登就举起了他自己的魔杖平静地念道，“恢复如初。”罐子立即复原了。
刚特看了奥格登好一会儿，仿佛要冲他大嚷大叫了，但他似乎改变了注意：转而去讽刺他的女儿，“很幸运有个来自魔法部的好人在这儿，是吗？也许他会把你从我这儿带走，也许他不介
意肮脏的哑炮……”
没有看任何人，也没有向奥格登道谢，梅洛捡起罐子，用颤抖的手把它放回到架子上。然后，她背对着炉子和窗口之间的墙静静地立着，仿佛巴不得能陷到石头里消失。
“刚特先生，”奥格登又开口说道，“正如我刚才所说：我来的原因是——”
“我刚才听到了！”刚特厉声说，“那又怎样？摩芬给了一个肮脏的麻瓜他应得的——那又怎么样了？”
“摩芬违反了巫师的法律。”奥格登严厉地说。
“摩芬违反了巫师的法律。”刚特模仿着奥格登的声音说，听起来既自命不凡又单调生硬。摩芬再次咯咯地笑了起来。“他教训了一个肮脏的麻瓜，现在这是违法的，对吗？”
“是的，”奥格登说，“恐怕是。”
他从内兜里掏出一小卷羊皮纸，并把它展开来。
“那又是什么，他的判决？”刚特愤怒地提高了声音。
“这是一份魔法部举行听证会的传票——”
“传票！传票？你以为你是谁，可以随便传唤我儿子？”
“我是魔法法律执行队的队长，”奥格登说。
“而你认为我们是人渣，是吗？”刚特尖声叫道，他逼近了奥格登，用一只长着黄色指甲的肮脏手指指在他的胸膛上。“魔法部叫他们的时候就会屁颠屁颠地跑过来的人渣？你以为你在跟
谁说话，你这个肮脏的小泥巴种，不是吗？”
“我记得我是在和刚特先生谈话，”奥格登谨慎地说，但仍然坚持着自己的立场。
“那就对了！”刚特咆哮着说。哈利一开始以为刚特做了一个下流的手势，但马上意识到他是在向奥格登展示中指上那枚镶嵌着黑石头的丑陋戒指，他把戒指在奥格登的眼前晃了晃。“看
到这个了吗？看到这个了吗？知道是什么吗？知道它从哪里来的吗？这是我们家传了几个世纪的东西，几个世纪一直都是纯血统！这枚戒指嵌上了刻着皮福瑞盾徽的石头，知道它值多少钱吗？
”
“我真的不清楚，”奥格登眨巴着眼睛，那枚戒指正在他鼻子下面一英寸的地方晃悠，“这和我们的话题无关，刚特先生。你的儿子犯了——”
刚特愤怒地大吼一声，跑向了他的女儿。当他的手伸向她的喉咙时，哈利一时间还以为他是要去掐死她；随即他拽着女儿脖子上的金项链把她拖到了奥格登面前。
“看到这个了吗？”他对奥格登吼道，在他面前晃了晃一个沉重的金盒坠子，而梅洛则喘得上气不接下气。
“我看到了，我看到了！”奥格登急忙说。
“斯莱特林的！”刚特叫道，“萨拉查·斯莱特林的！我们是他仅存的后裔，你对此怎么看，呃？”
“刚特先生，你女儿！”奥格登警告说，刚特马上放开了梅洛；她步履蹒跚地走开，回到她的角落，揉着脖子大口大口地喘着气。
“所以！”刚特得胜般地说，好像他刚刚排除所有可能的争议，证明了一个复杂的论点。“不要把我们当成你鞋子上的泥巴一样跟我们说话！一代代都是纯血统，都是巫师——比你想得多
得多，毫无疑问！”
他朝奥格登的脚上吐了口痰。摩芬又咯咯地笑了。梅洛蜷缩在窗边，垂下头，细长的头发遮住了脸，她什么也没说。
“刚特先生，”奥格登顽强地说，“恐怕无论是你的祖先还是我的祖先和现在手头上的事务都没有任何关系。我来这儿是为了摩芬，摩芬和昨天深夜跟他说话的那个麻瓜。我们的资料显示
，”他瞥了一眼羊皮纸，“摩芬对上述麻瓜施了一个恶咒，导致他脸上长出了非常严重的麻疹。”
摩芬吃吃地笑了。
“安静，孩子，”刚特用蛇佬腔咆哮，摩芬又安静了下来。
“那么，如果他做了会怎么样？”刚特挑衅地对奥格登说，“我想你们已经把那个麻瓜的脏脸蛋擦干净了，他的记忆也一样——”
“那不是问题所在，对吧，刚特先生？”奥格登说。“这属于没有正当理由的攻击，对一个手无寸铁的——”
“啊，我第一眼见到你，就把你划为一个麻瓜爱好者了，”刚特冷笑着又朝地板上吐了口痰。
“这次讨论毫无进展。”奥格登坚决地说。“你儿子的态度明显表示他对自己的行为没有一丝忏悔。”他又朝羊皮纸上瞥了一眼。“摩芬将于9月14日参加一个听证会，对他在麻瓜面前使
用魔法并给那个麻瓜造成伤害和不幸的指控进行答辩——”
奥格登被打断了。窗外传来了一阵叮叮当当的马蹄
收听单词发音 |
1
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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deviated
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| v.偏离，越轨( deviate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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plowing
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| v.耕( plow的现在分词 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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bad-tempered
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| adj.脾气坏的 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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13
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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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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omen
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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knave
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| n.流氓；（纸牌中的）杰克 | |
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gargoyle
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| n.笕嘴 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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21
detention
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| n.滞留，停留；拘留，扣留；(教育)留下 | |
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22
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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23
dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24
phoenix
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| n.凤凰，长生(不死)鸟；引申为重生 | |
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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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26
dueling
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| n. 决斗, 抗争(=duelling) 动词duel的现在分词形式 | |
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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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accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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30
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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31
murky
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| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
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32
marshes
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| n.沼泽，湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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33
thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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38
confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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41
swirled
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
shimmered
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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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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45
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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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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48
specks
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| n.眼镜；斑点，微粒，污点( speck的名词复数 ) | |
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49
assortment
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| n.分类，各色俱备之物，聚集 | |
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50
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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51
spats
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| n.口角( spat的名词复数 )；小争吵；鞋罩；鞋套v.spit的过去式和过去分词( spat的第三人称单数 )；口角；小争吵；鞋罩 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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54
manor
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| n.庄园，领地 | |
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55
velvety
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| adj. 像天鹅绒的, 轻软光滑的, 柔软的 | |
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56
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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57
lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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59
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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60
nettles
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| n.荨麻( nettle的名词复数 ) | |
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61
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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62
trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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63
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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64
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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65
ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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66
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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67
brandishing
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| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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68
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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69
nonplussed
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| adj.不知所措的，陷于窘境的v.使迷惑( nonplus的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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71
dabbing
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| 石面凿毛，灰泥抛毛 | |
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72
filth
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| n.肮脏，污物，污秽；淫猥 | |
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73
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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74
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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75
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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76
lumbering
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| n.采伐林木 | |
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77
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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78
squinted
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| 斜视( squint的过去式和过去分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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79
tartly
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| adv.辛辣地，刻薄地 | |
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80
breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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81
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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82
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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83
adder
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| n.蝰蛇；小毒蛇 | |
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84
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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85
fiddling
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| 微小的 | |
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86
lank
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| adj.瘦削的；稀疏的 | |
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87
grudgingly
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88
deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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89
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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90
jeered
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| v.嘲笑( jeer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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91
pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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92
scroll
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| n.卷轴，纸卷；(石刻上的)漩涡 | |
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93
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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94
engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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95
throttle
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| n.节流阀，节气阀，喉咙；v.扼喉咙，使窒息，压 | |
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massaging
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| 按摩，推拿( massage的现在分词 ) | |
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97
gulping
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的现在分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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98
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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99
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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100
doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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101
accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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102
giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
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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104
defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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105
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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107
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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108
jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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109
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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110
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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111
starkly
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| adj. 变硬了的,完全的 adv. 完全,实在,简直 | |
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112
imploringly
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| adv. 恳求地, 哀求地 | |
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113
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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114
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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115
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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116
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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117
chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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118
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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119
flick
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| n.快速的轻打，轻打声，弹开；v.轻弹，轻轻拂去，忽然摇动 | |
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120
rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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121
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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122
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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123
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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124
squandered
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| v.（指钱，财产等）浪费，乱花( squander的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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125
arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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126
riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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127
orphanage
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| n.孤儿院 | |
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128
runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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129
rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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130
enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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131
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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