“So Snape was offering to help him? He was definitely offering to help him?”
“If you ask. that once more,” said Harry1, “I'm going to stick this sprout2—”
“I'm only checking!” said Ron. They were standing3 alone at the Burrow4's kitchen sink, peeling a mountain of sprouts5 for Mrs. Weasley. Snow was drifting past the
window in front of them.
“Yes, Snape was offering to help him!” said Harry. “He said he'd promised Malfoy's mother to protect him, that he'd made an Unbreakable Oath or something—”
“An Unbreakable Vow6?” said Ron, looking stunned7. “Nah, he can't have... Are you sure?”
“Yes, I'm sure,” said Harry. “Why, what does it mean?”
“Well, you can't break an Unbreakable Vow...”
“I'd worked that much out for myself, funnily enough. What happens if you break it, then?”
“You die,” said Ron simply. “Fred and George tried to get me to make one when I was about five. I nearly did too, I was holding hands with Fred and everything when
Dad found us. He went mental,” said Ron, with a reminiscent gleam in his eyes. “Only time I've ever seen Dad as angry as Mum, Fred reckons his left buttock has never
been the same since.”
“Yeah, well, passing over Fred's left buttock—”
“I beg your pardon?” said Fred's voice as the twins entered the kitchen.
“Aaah, George, look at this. They're using knives and everything. Bless them.”
“I'll be seventeen in two and a bit months’ time,” said Ron grumpily, “and then I'll be able to do it by magic!”
“But meanwhile,” said George, sitting down at the kitchen table and putting his feet up on it, “we can enjoy watching you demonstrate the correct use of a — whoops9
-a-daisy!”
“You made me do that!” said Ron angrily, sucking his cut thumb. “You wait, when I'm seventeen—”
“I'm sure you'll dazzle us all with hitherto unsuspected magical skills,” yawned Fred.
“And speaking of hitherto unsuspected skills, Ronald,” said George, “what is this we hear from Ginny about you and a young lady called—unless our information is
faulty—Lavender Brown?”
Ron turned a little pink, but did not look displeased10 as he turned back to the sprouts. “Mind your own business.”
“What a snappy retort,” said Fred. “I really don't know how you think of them. No, what we wanted to know was... how did it happen?”
“What d'you mean?”
“Did she have an accident or something?”
“What?”
“Well, how did she sustain such extensive brain damage? Careful, now!”
Mrs. Weasley entered the room just in time to see Ron throw the sprout knife at Fred, who had turned it into a paper airplane with one lazy flick11 of his wand.
“Ron!” she said furiously. “Don't you ever let me see you throwing knives again!”
“I won't,” said Ron, “let you see,” he added under his breath, as he turned back to the sprout mountain.
“Fred, George, I'm sorry, dears, but Remus is arriving tonight, so Bill will have to squeeze in with you two.”
“No problem,” said George.
“Then, as Charlie isn't coming home, that just leaves Harry and Ron in the attic12, and if Fleur shares with Ginny—”
“—that'll make Ginny's Christmas—” muttered Fred.
“—everyone should be comfortable. Well, they'll have a bed, anyway,” said Mrs. Weasley, sounding slightly harassed13.
“Percy definitely not showing his ugly face, then?” asked Fred.
Mrs. Weasley turned away before she answered.
“No, he's busy, I expect, at the Ministry14.”
“Or he's the world's biggest prat,” said Fred, as Mrs. Weasley left the kitchen. “One of the two. Well, let's get going, then, George.”
“What are you two up to?” asked Ron. “Cant you help us with these sprouts? You could just use your wand and then we'll be free too!”
“No, I don't think we can do that,” said Fred seriously. “It's very character-building stuff, learning to peel sprouts without magic, makes you appreciate how
difficult it is for Muggles and Squibs—”
“—and if you want people to help you, Ron,” added George, throwing the paper airplane at him, “I wouldn't chuck knives at them. Just a little hint. We're off to the
village, there's a very pretty girl working in the paper shop who thinks my card tricks are something marvelous... almost like real magic...”
“Gits,” said Ron darkly, watching Fred and George setting off across the snowy yard. “Would've only taken them ten seconds and then we could've gone too.”
“I couldn't,” said Harry. “I promised Dumbledore I wouldn't wander off while I'm staying here.”
“Oh yeah,” said Ron. He peeled a few more sprouts and then said, “Are you going to tell Dumbledore what you heard Snape and Malfoy saying to each other?”
“Yep,” said Harry. “I'm going to tell anyone who can put a stop to it, and Dumbledore's top of the list. I might have another word with your dad, too.”
“Pity you didn't hear what Malfoy's actually doing, though.”
“I couldn't have done, could I? That was the whole point, he was refusing to tell Snape.”
There was silence for a moment or two, then Ron said, “Course, you know what they'll all say? Dad and Dumbledore and all of them? They'll say Snape isn't really trying
to help Malfoy, he was just trying to find out what Malfoy's up to.”
“They didn't hear him,” said Harry flatly. “No one's that good an actor, not even Snape.”
“Yeah... I'm just saying, though,” said Ron.
Harry turned to face him, frowning.
“You think I'm right, though?”
“Yeah, I do!” said Ron hastily. “Seriously, I do! But they're all convinced Snape's in the Order, aren't they?”
Harry said nothing. It had already occurred to him that this would be the most likely objection to his new evidence; he could hear Hermione now:
“Obviously, Harry, he was pretending to offer help so he could trick Malfoy into telling him what he's doing...”
This was pure imagination, however, as he had had no opportunity to tell Hermione what he had overheard. She had disappeared from Slughorn's party before he returned to
it, or so he had been informed by an irate15 McLaggen, and she had already gone to bed by the time he returned to the common room. As he and Ron had left for the Burrow
early the next day, he had barely had time to wish her a happy Christmas and to tell her that he had some very important news when they got back from the holidays. He
was not entirely16 sure that she had heard him, though; Ron and Lavender had been saying a thoroughly17 non-verbal goodbye just behind him at the time.
Still, even Hermione would not be able to deny one thing: Malfoy was definitely up to something, and Snape knew it, so Harry felt fully18 justified19 in saying “I told you
so,” which he had done several times to Ron already.
Harry did not get the chance to speak to Mr. Weasley, who was working very long hours at the Ministry, until Christmas Eve night. The Weasleys and their guests were
sitting in the living room, which Ginny had decorated so lavishly20 that it was rather like sitting in a paper-chain explosion. Fred, George, Harry, and Ron were the only
ones who knew that the angel on top of the tree was actually a garden gnome21 that had bitten Fred on the ankle as he pulled up carrots for Christmas dinner. Stupefied,
painted gold, stuffed into a miniature tutu and with small wings glued to his back, it glowered22 down at them all, the ugliest angel Harry had ever seen, with a large
bald head like a potato and rather hairy feet.
They were all supposed to be listening to a Christmas broadcast by Mrs. Weasley's favorite singer, Celestina Warbeck, whose voice was warbling out of the large wooden
wireless23 set. Fleur, who seemed to find Celestina very dull, was talking so loudly in the corner that a scowling24 Mrs. Weasley kept pointing her wand at the volume
control, so that Celestina grew louder and louder. Under cover of a particularly jazzy number called “A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love,” Fred and George started a
game of Exploding Snap with Ginny. Ron kept shooting Bill and Fleur covert25 looks, as though hoping to pick up tips. Meanwhile, Remus Lupin, who was thinner and more
ragged-looking than ever, was sitting beside the fire, staring into its depths as though he could not hear Celestina's voice.
“Oh, come and stir my cauldron,
And if you do it right
I'll boil you up some hot, strong love
To keep you warm tonight.”
“We danced to this when we were eighteen!” said Mrs. Weasley, wiping her eyes on her knitting. “Do you remember, Arthur?”
“Mphf?” said Mr. Weasley, whose head had been nodding over the satsuma he was peeling. “Oh yes ... marvelous tune26...”
With an effort, he sat up a little straighter and looked around at Harry, who was sitting next to him.
“Sorry about this,” he said, jerking his head toward the wireless as Celestina broke into the chorus. “Be over soon.”
“No problem,” said Harry, grinning. “Has it been busy at the Ministry?”
“Very,” said Mr. Weasley. “I wouldn't mind if we were getting anywhere, but of the three arrests we've made in the last couple of months, I doubt that one of them is
a genuine Death Eater—only don't repeat that, Harry,” he added quickly, looking much more awake all of a sudden.
“They're not still holding Stan Shunpike, are they?” asked Harry.
“I'm afraid so,” said Mr. Weasley. “I know Dumbledore's tried appealing directly to Scrimgeour about Stan... I mean, anybody who has actually interviewed him agrees
that he's about as much a Death Eater as this satsuma... but the top levels want to look as though they're making some progress, and ‘three arrests’ sounds better
than ‘three mistaken arrests and releases'... but again, this is all top secret...”
“I won't say anything,” said Harry. He hesitated for a moment, wondering how best to embark27 on what he wanted to say; as he marshaled his thoughts, Celestina Warbeck
began a ballad28 called “You Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me.”
“Mr. Weasley, you know what I told you at the station when we were setting off for school?”
“I checked, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley at once. “I went and searched the Malfoys’ house. There was nothing, either broken or whole, that shouldn't have been there.”
“Yeah, I know, I saw in the Prophet that you'd looked... but this is something different... well, something more ...”
And he told Mr. Weasley everything he had overheard between Malfoy and Snape. As Harry spoke29, he saw Lupin's head turn a little toward him, taking in every word. When
he had finished, there was silence, except for Celestina's crooning.
Oh, my poor heart, where has it gone?
It's left me for a spell...
“Has it occurred to you, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley, “that Snape was simply pretending—?”
“Pretending to offer help, so that he could find out what Malfoy's up to?” said Harry quickly. “Yeah, I thought you'd say that. But how do we know?”
“It isn't our business to know,” said Lupin unexpectedly. He had turned his back on the fire now and faced Harry across Mr. Weasley. “It's Dumbledore's business.
Dumbledore trusts Severus, and that ought to be good enough for all of us.”
“But,” said Harry, “just say—just say Dumbledore's wrong about Snape —”
“People have said it, many times. It comes down to whether or not you trust Dumbledore's judgment30. I do; therefore, I trust Severus.”
“But Dumbledore can make mistakes,” argued Harry. “He says it himself. And you—”
He looked Lupin straight in the eye.
“—do you honestly like Snape?”
“I neither like nor dislike Severus,” said Lupin. “No, Harry, I am speaking the truth,” he added, as Harry pulled a skeptical31 expression. “We shall never be bosom32
friends, perhaps; after all that happened between James and Sirius and Severus, there is too much bitterness there. But I do not forget that during the year I taught at
Hogwarts, Severus made the Wolfsbane Potion for me every month, made it perfectly33, so that I did not have to suffer as I usually do at the full moon.”
“But he ‘accidentally’ let it slip that you're a werewolf, so you had to leave!” said Harry angrily.
“The news would have leaked out anyway. We both know he wanted my job, but he could have wreaked35 much worse damage on me by tampering36 with the potion. He kept me
healthy. I must be grateful.”
“Maybe he didn't dare mess with the potion with Dumbledore watching him!” said Harry.
“You are determined37 to hate him, Harry,” said Lupin with a faint smile. “And I understand; with James as your father, with Sirius as your godfather, you have
inherited an old prejudice. By all means tell Dumbledore what you have told Arthur and me, but do not expect him to share your view of the matter; do not even expect
him to be surprised by what you tell him. It might have been on Dumbledore's orders that Severus questioned Draco.”
... and now you've torn it quite apart
I'll thank you to give back my heart!
Celestina ended her song on a very long, high-pitched note and loud applause issued out of the wireless, which Mrs. Weasley joined in with enthusiastically.
“Eez eet over?” said Fleur loudly. “Thank goodness, what an ‘orrible —”
“Shall we have a nightcap, then?” asked Mr. Weasley loudly, leaping to his feet. “Who wants eggnog?”
“What have you been up to lately?” Harry asked Lupin, as Mr, Weasley bustled38 off to fetch the eggnog, and everybody else stretched and broke into conversation.
“Oh, I've been underground,” said Lupin. “Almost literally39. That's why I haven't been able to write, Harry; sending letters to you would have been something of a
give-away.”
“What do you mean?”
“I've been living among my fellows, my equals,” said Lupin. “Werewolves,” he added, at Harry's look of incomprehension. “Nearly all of them are on Voldemort's
side. Dumbledore wanted a spy and here I was... ready-made.”
He sounded a little bitter, and perhaps realized it, for he smiled more warmly as he went on, “I am not complaining; it is necessary work and who can do it better than
I? However, it has been difficult gaining their trust. I bear the unmistakable signs of having tried to live among wizards, you see, whereas they have shunned40 normal
society and live on the margins41, stealing—and sometimes killing—to eat.”
“How come they like Voldemort?”
“They think that, under his rule, they will have a better life,” said Lupin. “And it is hard to argue with Greyback out there...”
“Who's Greyback?”
“You haven't heard of him?” Lupin's hands closed convulsively in his lap. “Fenrir Greyback is, perhaps, the most savage42 werewolf alive today. He regards it as his
mission in life to bite and to contaminate as many people as possible; he wants to create enough werewolves to overcome the wizards. Voldemort has promised him prey43 in
return for his services. Greyback specializes in children... bite them young, he says, and raise them away from their parents, raise them to hate normal wizards.
Voldemort has threatened to unleash44 him upon people's sons and daughters; it is a threat that usually produces good results.”
Lupin paused and then said, “It was Greyback who bit me.”
“What?” said Harry, astonished. “When—when you were a kid, you mean?”
“Yes. My father had offended him. I did not know, for a very long time, the identity of the werewolf who had attacked me; I even felt pity for him, thinking that he
had had no control, knowing by then how it felt to transform. But Greyback is not like that. At the full moon, he positions himself close to victims, ensuring that he
is near enough to strike. He plans it all. And this is the man Voldemort is using to marshal the werewolves. I cannot pretend that my particular brand of reasoned
argument is making much headway against Greyback's insistence45 that we werewolves deserve blood, that we ought to revenge ourselves on normal people.”
“But you are normal!” said Harry fiercely. “You've just got a—a problem—”
Lupin burst out laughing.
“Sometimes you remind me a lot of James. He called it my ‘furry little problem’ in company. Many people were under the impression that I owned a badly behaved
rabbit.”
He accepted a glass of eggnog from Mr. Weasley with a word of thanks, looking slightly more cheerful. Harry, meanwhile, felt a rush of excitement: this last mention of
his father had reminded him that there was something he had been looking forward to asking Lupin.
“Have you ever heard of someone called the Half-Blood Prince?”
“The Half-Blood what?”
“Prince,” said Harry, watching him closely for signs of recognition.
“There are no Wizarding princes,” said Lupin, now smiling. “Is this a title you're thinking of adopting? I should have thought being the ‘Chosen One’ would be
enough.”
“It's nothing to do with me!” said Harry indignantly. “The Half-Blood Prince is someone who used to go to Hogwarts, I've got his old Potions book. He wrote spells
all over it, spells he invented. One of them was Levicorpus—”
“Oh, that one had a great vogue46 during my time at Hogwarts,” said Lupin reminiscently. “There were a few months in my fifth year when you couldn't move for being
hoisted47 into the air by your ankle.”
“My dad used it,” said Harry. “I saw him in the Pensieve, he used it on Snape.”
He tried to sound casual, as though this was a throwaway comment of no real importance, but he was not sure he had achieved the right effect; Lupin's smile was a little
too understanding.
“Yes,” he said, “but he wasn't the only one. As I say, it was very popular... You know how these spells come and go...”
“But it sounds like it was invented while you were at school,” Harry persisted.
“Not necessarily,” said Lupin. “Jinxes go in and out of fashion like everything else.” He looked into Harry's face and then said quietly, “James was a pure-blood,
Harry, and I promise you, he never asked us to call him ‘Prince.'”
Abandoning pretense48, Harry said, “And it wasn't Sirius? Or you?”
“Definitely not.”
“Oh.” Harry stared into the fire. “I just thought—well, he's helped me out a lot in Potions classes, the Prince has.”
“How old is this book, Harry?”
“I dunno, I've never checked.”
“Well, perhaps that will give you some clue as to when the Prince was at Hogwarts,” said Lupin.
Shortly after this, Fleur decided49 to imitate Celestina singing “A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love,” which was taken by everyone, once they had glimpsed Mrs.
Weasley's expression, to be the cue to go to bed. Harry and Ron climbed all the way up to Ron's attic bedroom, where a camp bed had been added for Harry.
Ron fell asleep almost immediately, but Harry delved50 into his trunk and pulled out his copy of Advanced Potion-Making before getting into bed. There he turned its
pages, searching, until he finally found, at the front of the book, the date that it had been published. It was nearly fifty years old. Neither his father, nor his
father's friends, had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago. Feeling disappointed, Harry threw the book back into his trunk, turned off the lamp, and rolled over, thinking
of werewolves and Snape, Stan Shunpike and the Half-Blood Prince, and finally falling into an uneasy sleep full of creeping shadows and the cries of bitten children...
“She's got to be joking...”
Harry woke with a start to find a bulging51 stocking lying over the end of his bed. He put on his glasses and looked around; the tiny window was almost completely
obscured with snow and, in front of it, Ron was sitting bolt upright in bed and examining what appeared to be a thick gold chain.
“What's that?” asked Harry.
“It's from Lavender,” said Ron, sounding revolted. “She can't honestly think I'd wear ...”
Harry looked more closely and let out a shout of laughter. Dangling52 from the chain in large gold letters were the words: “My Sweetheart”
“Nice,” he said. “Classy. You should definitely wear it in front of Fred and George.”
“If you tell them,” said Ron, shoving the necklace out of sight under his pillow, “I—I—I'll—”
“Stutter at me?” said Harry, grinning. “Come on, would I?”
“How could she think I'd like something like that, though?” Ron demanded of thin air, looking rather shocked.
“Well, think back,” said Harry. “Have you ever let it slip that you'd like to go out in public with the words ‘My Sweetheart’ round your neck?”
“Well... we don't really talk much,” said Ron. “It's mainly...”
“Snogging,” said Harry.
“Well, yeah,” said Ron. He hesitated a moment, then said, “Is Hermione really going out with McLaggen?”
“I dunno,” said Harry. “They were at Slughorn's party together, but I don't think it went that well.”
Ron looked slightly more cheerful as he delved deeper into his stocking.
Harry's presents included a sweater with a large Golden Snitch worked onto the front, hand-knitted by Mrs. Weasley, a large box of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes53 products
from the twins, and a slightly damp, moldy-smelling package that came with a label reading “To Master, From Kreacher".
Harry stared at it. “D'you reckon this is safe to open?” he asked.
“Can't be anything dangerous, all our mail's still being searched at the Ministry,” replied Ron, though he was eyeing the parcel suspiciously.
“I didn't think of giving Kreacher anything. Do people usually give their house-elves Christmas presents?” asked Harry, prodding54 the parcel cautiously.
“Hermione would,” said Ron. “But let's wait and see what it is before you start feeling guilty.”
A moment later, Harry had given a loud yell and leapt out of his camp bed; the package contained a large number of maggots.
“Nice,” said Ron, roaring with laughter. “Very thoughtful.”
“I'd rather have them than that necklace,” said Harry, which sobered Ron up at once.
Everybody was wearing new sweaters when they all sat down for Christmas lunch, everyone except Fleur (on whom, it appeared, Mrs. Weasley had not wanted to waste one)
and Mrs. Weasley herself, who was sporting a brand-new midnight blue witch's hat glittering with what looked like tiny starlike diamonds, and a spectacular golden
necklace.
“Fred and George gave them to me! Aren't they beautiful?”
“Well, we find we appreciate you more and more, Mum, now we're washing our own socks,” said George, waving an airy hand. “Parsnips, Remus?”
“Harry, you've got a maggot in your hair,” said Ginny cheerfully, leaning across the table to pick it out; Harry felt goose bumps erupt up his neck that had nothing
to do with the maggot.
“'Ow ‘orrible,” said Fleur, with an affected55 little shudder56.
“Yes, isn't it?” said Ron. “Gravy57, Fleur?”
. In his eagerness to help her, he knocked the gravy boat flying; Bill waved his wand and the gravy soared up in the air and returned meekly58 to the boat.
“You are as bad as zat Tonks,” said Fleur to Ron, when she had finished kissing Bill in thanks. “She is always knocking —”
“I invited dear Tonks to come along today,” said Mrs. Weasley, setting down the carrots with unnecessary force and glaring at Fleur. “But she wouldn't come. Have you
spoken to her lately, Remus?”
“No, I haven't been in contact with anybody very much,” said Lupin. “But Tonks has got her own family to go to, hasn't she?”
“Hmmm,” said Mrs. Weasley. “Maybe. I got the impression she was planning to spend Christmas alone, actually.”
She gave Lupin an annoyed look, as though it was all his fault she was getting Fleur for a daughter-in-law instead of Tonks, but Harry, glancing across at Fleur, who
was now feeding Bill bits of turkey off her own fork, thought that Mrs. Weasley was fighting a long-lost battle. He was, however, reminded of a question he had with
regard to Tonks, and who better to ask than Lupin, the man who knew all about Patronuses?
“Tonks's Patronus has changed its form,” he told him. “Snape said so anyway. I didn't know that could happen. Why would your Patronus change?”
Lupin took his time chewing his turkey and swallowing before saying slowly, “Sometimes ... a great shock ... an emotional upheaval59 ...”
“It looked big, and it had four legs,” said Harry, struck by a sudden thought and lowering his voice. “Hey ... it couldn't be—?”
“Arthur!” said Mrs. Weasley suddenly. She had risen from her chair; her hand was pressed over her heart and she was staring out of the kitchen window. “Arthur—it's
Percy!”
“What?”
Mr. Weasley looked around. Everybody looked quickly at the window; Ginny stood up for a better look. There, sure enough, was Percy Weasley, striding across the snowy
yard, his horn-rimmed glasses glinting in the sunlight. He was not, however, alone.
“Arthur, he's—he's with the Minister!”
And sure enough, the man Harry had seen in the Daily Prophet was following along in Percy's wake, limping slightly, his mane of graying hair and his black cloak flecked
with snow. Before any of them could say anything, before Mr. and Mrs. Weasley could do more than exchange stunned looks, the back door opened and there stood Percy.
There was a moment's painful silence. Then Percy said rather stiffly, “Merry Christmas, Mother.”
“Oh, Percy!” said Mrs. Weasley, and she threw herself into his arms.
Rufus Scrimgeour paused in the doorway60, leaning on his walking stick and smiling as he observed this affecting scene.
“You must forgive this intrusion,” he said, when Mrs. Weasley looked around at him, beaming and wiping her eyes. “Percy and I were in the vicinity—working, you know
— and he couldn't resist dropping in and seeing you all.”
But Percy showed no sign of wanting to greet any of the rest of the family. He stood, poker-straight and awkward-looking, and stared over everybody else's heads. Mr.
Weasley, Fred, and George were all observing him, stony-faced.
“Please, come in, sit down, Minister!” fluttered Mrs. Weasley, straightening her hat. “Have a little purkey, or some tooding... I mean —”
“No, no, my dear Molly,” said Scrimgeour. Harry guessed that he had checked her name with Percy before they entered the house. “I don't want to intrude61, wouldn't be
here at all if Percy hadn't wanted to see you all so badly...”
“Oh, Perce!” said Mrs. Weasley tearfully, reaching up to kiss him.
“... we've only looked in for five minutes, so I'll have a stroll around the yard while you catch up with Percy. No, no, I assure you I don't want to butt8 in! Well, if
anybody cared to show me your charming garden... ah, that young man's finished, why doesn't he take a stroll with me?”
The atmosphere around the table changed perceptibly. Everybody looked from Scrimgeour to Harry. Nobody seemed to find Scrimgeour's pretense that he did not know Harry's
name convincing, or find it natural that he should be chosen to accompany the Minister around the garden when Ginny, Fleur, and George also had clean plates.
“Yeah, all right,” said Harry into the silence.
He was not fooled; for all Scrimgeour's talk that they had just been in the area, that Percy wanted to look up his family, this must be the real reason that they had
come, so that Scrimgeour could speak to Harry alone.
“It's fine,” he said quietly, as he passed Lupin, who had half risen from his chair. “Fine,” he added, as Mr. Weasley opened his mouth to speak.
“Wonderful!” said Scrimgeour, standing back to let Harry pass through the door ahead of him. “We'll just take a turn around the garden, and Percy and I'll be off.
Carry on, everyone!”
Harry walked across the yard toward the Weasleys’ overgrown, snow-covered garden, Scrimgeour limping slightly at his side. He had, Harry knew, been Head of the Auror
office; he looked tough and battle-scarred, very different from portly Fudge in his bowler62 hat.
“Charming,” said Scrimgeour, stopping at the garden fence and looking out over the snowy lawn and the indistinguishable plants. “Charming.”
Harry said nothing. He could tell that Scrimgeour was watching him.
“I've wanted to meet you for a very long time,” said Scrimgeour, after a few moments. “Did you know that?”
“No,” said Harry truthfully.
“Oh yes, for a very long time. But Dumbledore has been very protective of you,” said Scrimgeour. “Natural, of course, natural, after what you've been through...
especially what happened at the Ministry ...”
He waited for Harry to say something, but Harry did not oblige, so he went on, “I have been hoping for an occasion to talk to you ever since I gained office, but
Dumbledore has—most understandably, as I say—prevented this.”
Still, Harry said nothing, waiting.
“The rumors63 that have flown around!” said Scrimgeour. “Well, of course, we both know how these stories get distorted... all these whispers of a prophecy... of you
being ‘the Chosen One'...”
They were getting near it now, Harry thought, the reason Scrimgeour was here.
“... I assume that Dumbledore has discussed these matters with you?”
Harry deliberated, wondering whether he ought to lie or not. He looked at the little gnome prints all around the flowerbeds, and the scuffed-up patch that marked the
spot where Fred had caught the gnome now wearing the tutu at the top of the Christmas tree. Finally, he decided on the truth ... or a bit of it.
“Yeah, we've discussed it.”
“Have you, have you...” said Scrimgeour. Harry could see, out of the corner of his eye, Scrimgeour squinting64 at him, so he pretended to be very interested in a gnome
that had just poked65 its head out from underneath66 a frozen rhododendron. “And what has Dumbledore told you, Harry?”
“Sorry, but that's between us,” said Harry.
He kept his voice as pleasant as he could, and Scrimgeour's tone, too, was light and friendly as he said, “Oh, of course, if it's a question of confidences, I wouldn't
want you to divulge67... no, no ... and in any case, does it really matter whether you are the Chosen One or not?”
Harry had to mull that one over for a few seconds before responding.
“I don't really know what you mean, Minister.”
“Well, of course, to you it will matter enormously,” said Scrimgeour with a laugh. “But to the wizarding community at large... it's all perception, isn't it? It's
what people believe that's important.”
Harry said nothing. He thought he saw, dimly, where they were heading, but he was not going to help Scrimgeour get there. The gnome under the rhododendron was now
digging for worms at its roots, and Harry kept his eyes fixed68 upon it.
“People believe you are the Chosen One, you see,” said Scrimgeour. “They think you quite the hero—which, of course, you arc, Harry, chosen or not! How many times
have you faced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named now? Well, anyway,” he pressed on, without waiting for a reply, “the point is, you are a symbol of hope for many, Harry. The
idea that there is somebody out there who might be able, who might even be destined69, to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—well, naturally, it gives people a lift. And I
can't help but feel that, once you realize this, you might consider it, well, almost a duty, to stand alongside the Ministry, and give everyone a boost.”
The gnome had just managed to get hold of a worm. It was now tugging70 very hard on it, trying to get it out of the frozen ground. Harry was silent so long that
Scrimgeour said, looking from Harry to the gnome, “Funny little chaps, aren't they? But what say you, Harry?”
“I don't exactly understand what you want,” said Harry slowly. “'Stand alongside the Ministry'... What does that mean?”
“Oh, well, nothing at all onerous71, I assure you,” said Scrimgeour. “If you were to be seen popping in and out of the Ministry from time to time, for instance, that
would give the right impression. And of course, while you were there, you would have ample opportunity to speak to Gawain Robards, my successor as Head of the Auror
office. Dolores Umbridge has told me that you cherish an ambition to become an Auror. Well, that could be arranged very easily...”
Harry felt anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach: so Dolores Umbridge was still at the Ministry, was she?
“So basically,” he said, as though he just wanted to clarify a few points, “you'd like to give the impression that I'm working for the Ministry?”
“It would give everyone a lift to think you were more involved, Harry,” said Scrimgeour, sounding relieved that Harry had cottoned on so quickly. “'The Chosen One,’
you know... it's all about giving people hope, the feeling that exciting things are happening...”
“But if I keep running in and out of the Ministry,” said Harry, still endeavoring to keep his voice friendly, “won't that seem as though I approve of what the
Ministry's up to?”
“Well,” said Scrimgeour, frowning slightly, “well, yes, that's partly why we'd like —”
“No, I don't think that'll work,” said Harry pleasantly. “You see, I don't like some of the things the Ministry's doing. Locking up Stan Shunpike, for instance.”
Scrimgeour did not speak for a moment but his expression hardened instantly.
“I would not expect you to understand,” he said, and he was not as successful at keeping anger out of his voice as Harry had been. “These are dangerous times, and
certain measures need to be taken. You are sixteen years old —”
“Dumbledore's a lot older than sixteen, and he doesn't think Stan should be in Azkaban either,” said Harry. “You're making Stan a scapegoat72, just like you want to
They looked at each other, long and hard. Finally Scrimgeour said, with no pretense at warmth, “I see. You prefer—like your hero, Dumbledore—to disassociate yourself
from the Ministry?”
“I don't want to be used,” said Harry.
“Some would say it's your duty to be used by the Ministry!”
“Yeah, and others might say it's your duty to check that people really are Death Eaters before you chuck them in prison,” said Harry, his temper rising now. “You're
doing what Barty Crouch74 did. You never get it right, you people, do you? Either we've got Fudge, pretending everything's lovely while people get murdered right under
his nose, or we've got you, chucking the wrong people into jail and trying to pretend you've got the Chosen One working for you!”
“So you're not the Chosen One?” said Scrimgeour.
“I thought you said it didn't matter either way?” said Harry, with a bitter laugh. “Not to you anyway.”
“I shouldn't have said that,” said Scrimgeour quickly. “It was tactless —”
“No, it was honest,” said Harry. “One of the only honest things you've said to me. You don't care whether I live or die, but you do care that I help you convince
everyone you're winning the war against Voldemort. I haven't forgotten, Minister....”
He raised his right fist. There, shining white on the back of his cold hand, were the scars which Dolores Umbridge had forced him to carve into his own flesh: I must
not tell lies.
“I don't remember you rushing to my defense75 when I was trying to tell everyone Voldemort was back. The Ministry wasn't so keen to be pals76 last year.”
They stood in silence as icy as the ground beneath their feet. The gnome had finally managed to extricate77 his worm and was now sucking on it happily, leaning against
the bottom-most branches of the rhododendron bush.
“What is Dumbledore up to?” said Scrimgeour brusquely. “Where does he go when he is absent from Hogwarts?”
“No idea,” said Harry.
“And you wouldn't tell me if you knew,” said Scrimgeour, “would you?”
“No, I wouldn't,” said Harry.
“Well, then, I shall have to see whether I can't find out by other means.”
“You can try,” said Harry indifferently. “But you seem cleverer than Fudge, so I'd have thought you'd have learned from his mistakes. He tried interfering78 at
Hogwarts. You might have noticed he's not Minister anymore, but Dumbledore's still Headmaster. I'd leave Dumbledore alone, if I were you.”
There was a long pause.
“Well, it is clear to me that he has done a very good job on you,” said Scrimgeour, his eyes cold and hard behind his wire-rimmed glasses, “Dumbledore's man through
and through, aren't you, Potter?”
“Yeah, I am,” said Harry. “Glad we straightened that out.”
And turning his back on the Minister of Magic, he strode back toward the house.
“斯内普提出要帮助他？他的的确确提出要帮助他？”
“如果你再问一遍，”哈利说，“我就用这棵芽菜桶——”
“我只是在确认！”罗恩说。他们正独自站在陋居厨房的水池边，替韦斯莱夫人削着堆成山的芽菜。他们面前的窗户外面正飘着雪。
“是的，斯内普提出要帮助他！”哈利说。“他说他向马尔福的母亲承诺过要保护他，还立下了一个牢不可破誓言什么的——”
“牢不可破誓约？”罗恩看上去很震惊。“不，他不可能……你敢肯定吗？”
“是的，我敢肯定，”哈利说。“怎么了？这意味着什么？”
“这么说吧，你不能打破一个牢不可破誓约……”
“这个我自己也能差不多想到，够有趣的。那么，如果你打破了它会发生什么呢？”
“就会死，”罗恩简单地说。“我大约五岁的时候，弗雷德和乔治曾想让我立下一个牢不可破誓约。我也几乎都立下了，当时和弗雷德已经握好了手，可是刚好被爸爸发现了。他都快气疯
了，”罗恩眼睛里闪过一丝怀念的光，“我就看见过这一次爸爸像妈妈那样生气。弗雷德的左半边屁股从此就变了样。”
“是啊，好了，别管弗雷德的左半边屁股了——”
“再说一遍？”弗雷德的声音说道，双胞胎走进了厨房。
“啊，乔治，看看这个。他们在用小刀之类的东西。上帝保佑他们。”
“还有两个多月我就17岁了，”罗恩粗暴地说，“然后我就可以用魔法做这些事了！”
“但是现在，”乔治坐到了厨房的餐桌上，把双脚也搁在上面，“我们可以欣赏你给我们示范怎么正确地使用一个——哎呀。”
“就是你们害的！”罗恩生气地说，一边吮吸着被削到的拇指。“你们等着，等我到了17岁——”
“就会用你至今还不为人知的魔法才能来迷倒我们，我敢肯定，”弗雷德打着哈欠说。
“说到至今还不为人知的魔法才能，罗恩，”乔治说，“怎么我们从金妮那儿听说你和一个年轻的女士在一起，她叫——除非我们的情报有误——拉文德·布朗？”
罗恩的脸变得有一点红，可是他转过身面对芽菜时似乎并没有生气。
“少管闲事。”
“好一个带刺的答复！”弗雷德说。“我真的不知道你是怎么想的。不，我们想知道的是……这件事是怎么发生的？”
“你是什么意思？”
“她出了什么事故，还是别的什么？”
“什么？”
“好吧，她的脑子是怎么遭到这么大破坏的？当心，哦！”
韦斯莱夫人进厨房时正好看到了罗恩把芽菜刀扔向弗雷德，弗雷德懒洋洋地挥了挥魔杖，把它变成了一架纸飞机。
“罗恩！”她狂怒地说，“别再让我看到你扔刀子！”
“我不会，”罗恩说，“再让你看到的，”他用极小的声音补充道，然后转过身去面对那一堆芽菜山。
“弗雷德、乔治，很抱歉，亲爱的，但是莱姆斯今晚要过来，所以比尔不得不和你们俩挤在一块儿睡。
“没问题，”乔治说。
“还有，由于查理不回家，所以哈利和罗恩就住阁楼，而如果芙蓉能和金妮一起——”
“——那金妮的圣诞节就有的过了——”弗雷德嘀咕道。
“——那就每个人都舒服了。好了，不管怎样都有床了，”韦斯莱夫人的声音听起来有点儿疲惫。
“那么，珀西那张丑陋的面孔一定不会出现了吧？”弗雷德问。
“不会，我想是因为他很忙，在魔法部。”
“或者因为他是世界上最大的傻瓜——” 韦斯莱夫人走出厨房时弗雷德说。“二者必居其一。好了，那么乔治，我们走。”
“你们要去干什么？”罗恩问。“你们就不能帮我们对付这堆芽菜吗？只需要动一动魔杖，我们就也解放了。”
“不！我不认为我们会那么做，”弗雷德严肃地说。“这件事儿可以锻炼人，学习不用魔法来削芽菜，让你体会到那对麻瓜和哑炮来说是多么困难——”
“——还有，如果想寻求别人的帮助，罗恩，”乔治把纸飞机扔给他，“就不该向他们扔刀子。只是一个小小的忠告。我们去村里，纸店里有个非常漂亮的女孩觉得我的纸牌戏法棒极了…
…几乎和真的魔法一样……”
“混蛋，”罗恩阴沉地说，注视着弗雷德和乔治走出覆盖着积雪的院子，“只需要花他们十秒钟时间，我们就也可以去了。”
“我去不了，”哈利说，“我答应过邓布利多，在这儿的时候不能到处乱逛。”
“哦，对，”罗恩说。又削了几棵芽菜之后，他说，“你准备告诉邓布利多斯内普和马尔福之间说的话吗？”
“是的，”哈利说。“我会告诉任何能够制止他们的人，邓布利多是头号人选。我可能还会和你爸爸说。”
“不过可惜的是你没有听到马尔福究竟在干什么。”
“我不可能听到，不是吗？这是最关键的东西，他连斯内普也不告诉。”
沉默了片刻之后，罗恩说，“当然，你也知道他们会怎么说吧？爸爸、邓布利多和他们所有的人。他们会说斯内普并不是真的在帮马尔福，他只是想知道马尔福在打什么主意。”
“他们没听见他说的话。”哈利有气无力地说。“没有人比他更会演戏了，就连斯内普也比不上。”
“是啊……我只是说说而已，”罗恩说。
哈利转过头皱起眉头看着他。
“可你认为我是对的？”
“对，是的。”罗恩急忙说。“说正经的，我认为你是对的！但他们都相信斯内普是凤凰社的人，是不是？”
哈利什么也没说。他已经想到了这是最有可能驳斥他新证据的理由；他甚至都能听见赫敏在说：
“很明显，哈利，他是在假装提出帮助马尔福，这样就能骗马尔福说出他在做什么……”
然而，这只是纯粹的想象，他没有机会告诉赫敏他偷听到了什么。等他回到斯拉霍恩的聚会时，赫敏已经不见了，这好像是麦克拉根愤怒地告诉他的。等他回到公共休息室时，赫敏已经去
睡觉了。第二天清晨他和罗恩就要出发去陋居，哈利的时间只够祝她圣诞快乐，并告诉她假期之后有很重要的消息要和她说。可是他一点儿也不确定赫敏有没有听见他说的话；因为罗恩和拉文
德正在他身后不出声地作别。
甚至就连赫敏也无法否认一点：马尔福肯定正在计划着什么，而斯内普知道这件事，所以哈利每次对罗恩说“我早就告诉过你是这样”时都觉得理直气壮。
哈利没有机会和韦斯莱先生说话，他每天都在魔法部工作很长时间，一直到圣诞夜才放假。韦斯莱一家和他们的客人坐在客厅里，金妮把屋子装饰得很夸张，就像置身于纸拉花的海洋。弗
雷德、乔治、哈利和罗恩是唯一知道圣诞树顶上的天使实际上是一只地精的人，弗雷德在为圣诞晚宴拔萝卜时被它咬了一口。于是他们给它念了昏迷咒，再涂成了金色，为它穿上一条微型的芭
蕾舞短裙并把一对翅膀粘在了它的背上，现在正愤怒地往下瞪着他们所有的人。它长着一颗像土豆一样的大秃头和毛茸茸的脚，这是哈利见过的最难看的天使。
他们都在听韦斯莱夫人最喜欢的歌手塞莉斯汀娜·沃贝克的圣诞广播，她婉转的歌声正从巨大的木头收音机里传出来。芙蓉似乎觉得塞莉斯汀娜的歌声很无趣，她用很大的声音在角落里说
着话，而闷闷不乐的韦斯莱夫人则一直用魔杖指着音量控制器，于是塞莉斯汀娜的声音变得越来越大。在一段爵士风格的韵律‘盛满浓烈爱情的坩埚’之中，弗雷德和乔治开始同金妮玩起了噼
啪爆炸。罗恩则不停地向比尔和芙蓉那边偷偷摸摸地窥视，仿佛是想学到一些技巧。与此同时，卢平坐在火炉边凝视着火炉的最深处，就好像听不见塞莉斯汀娜的声音一样。他看起来比以前更
瘦，衣服更破旧了。
“哦，快来搅拌我的坩埚，
如果你没有做错，
我会燃起浓烈的爱火，
让你今夜能温暖地度过。”
“我们18岁时在这歌声下跳过舞！”韦斯莱夫人用毛衣擦了擦眼中的泪水。“你还记得吗，亚瑟？”
“嗯？”韦斯莱先生正剥着蜜橘，他点了点头说，“哦，是的……不可思议的曲子……”
他努力地坐直了些，转过头看了看哈利，他正坐在旁边。
“抱歉，”他扭头看了一眼收音机，塞莉斯汀娜已经唱到了合唱部分，“就快完了。”
“没关系，”哈利咧着嘴笑了笑。“最近魔法部忙吗？”
“非常忙，”韦斯莱先生说，“要是有进展我就不会在意了，但是我怀疑在最近几个月的三次逮捕行动里，没有一个是个真正的食死徒——只是别告诉其他人，哈利。”他突然间看上去警
觉多了。
“他们没有羁押斯坦了吧，是不是？”哈利问。
“恐怕不是，”韦斯莱先生说。“我知道邓布利多尝试过直接向斯克林杰要求释放斯坦……我的意思是，每一个审问过他的人都同意他和这个蜜橘一样不可能是食死徒……但是高层却想让
人们看到他们的进展，而‘三次逮捕’要比‘三次错抓人又释放’来得好听……我再强调一次，这都是最高机密……”
“我什么都不会说，”哈利说。他犹豫了一会儿，不知道该如何开口；他一边整理思路，一边听着塞莉斯汀娜·沃贝克又开始了新的一曲“你对我的心施了魔法”。
“韦斯莱先生，你还记得我在车站出发去学校前告诉你的事吗？”
“我查过了，哈利，”韦斯莱先生马上说。“我去搜查了马尔福的房子。没有找到不该出现在那儿的任何东西，不论是残破的还是完整的。”
“是啊，我知道，我在《预言家日报》上看到你已经查过了……但这又是一件不同的事……嗯，进一步的……”
他把自己偷听到的马尔福和斯内普之间的谈话和盘托出地告诉了韦斯莱先生，哈利说话的时候，看见卢平的头稍微往他这边转了转，听到了每一个字。他说完之后，屋子里除了塞莉斯汀娜
的深情哼唱之外没有人说话了。
“哦，我可怜的心儿去了哪儿？
它为了一个咒语就把我抛弃……”
“你有没有想过，哈利，”韦斯莱先生问，“斯内普只是在假装——”
“——假装提出帮助马尔福，这样就能知道他到底在打什么主意？”哈利迅速说。“是啊，我知道你们会那么想。可我们怎么知道是这样呢？”
“我们没有必要知道，”卢平出人意料地说。他转过来背对着壁炉，越过韦斯莱先生看着哈利。“这是邓布利多的事。邓布利多信任西弗勒斯，而那对我们大家来说就应该足够了。”
“可是，”哈利说，“我只是说——只是说邓布利多看错了斯内普——”
“这话人们已经说过很多次了。这就看你是否相信邓布利多的判断力了。我相信；因此，我信任西弗勒斯。”
“可是邓布利多也会犯错误，”哈利争辩道。“他自己说的。你——”
他直勾勾地盯着卢平。
“——你真的喜欢斯内普？”
“我既不喜欢也不讨厌西弗勒斯，”卢平说。“不，哈利，我说的是事实，”看到哈利一脸怀疑的表情，他又加上一句。“我们也许永远都不会是亲密的朋友；在詹姆和小天狼星同西弗勒
斯之间发生了所有那些事情之后，其中的苦涩太多了。可是我没有忘记我在霍格沃茨执教的那一年，西弗勒斯每个月都为我配制出完美的狼毒药水，使我不用在满月的时候承受那么大的痛苦。
”
“但是他‘偶然间’泄露了你是一个狼人的事实，导致你不得不离开！”哈利气愤地说。
卢平耸了耸肩。
“这事迟早都会泄露出去的。你我都清楚他想要我的那份工作，可是他如果想要给我造成更大伤害，可以在药水里做手脚。但他保持了我的健康。我应该感激他。”
“也许在邓布利多的眼皮底下他不敢在药剂里做手脚！”哈利说。
“你是打定了主意要恨他，哈利，”卢平无力地笑了笑。“我理解；詹姆是你的父亲，小天狼星是你的教父，你继承了一贯的偏见。你尽可以把你对亚瑟和我说的话都告诉邓布利多，但是
别指望他对此的观点能和你一致；甚至也别指望他会对你说的事情感到惊讶。说不定就是邓布利多命令西弗勒斯去询问德拉科的。”
“……而今你撕碎了我的心，
我还要感谢你还把它还给我！”
塞莉斯汀娜以一个长长的高音结束了她的歌，收音机里爆发出一片响亮的掌声，韦斯莱夫人也热情地加入其中。
“完了吧？”芙蓉大声说。“谢天谢地，多么可怕——”
“那么，我们来杯睡前饮料吧？”韦斯莱夫人一跃而起，大声问道。“谁想要蛋酒？”
“你最近都在忙什么？”哈利问卢平，韦斯莱夫人匆匆忙忙地去拿蛋酒了，其他人都伸了伸懒腰开始聊天。
“哦，我一直在秘密工作，”卢平说。“毫不夸张。那也是我不能给你写信的原因，哈利；给你寄信可能就是泄密。”
“你是指什么？”
“我一直和我的同伴生活在一起，我的同类，”卢平说。“狼人，”见哈利不解地看着他，卢平补充道。“他们几乎全部都站在伏地魔那边。邓布利多希望有一个间谍，我就是……现成的
。”
他的声音有一点苦涩。也许他也意识到了这一点，因为他接着说的时候笑得热情了些，“我不是在抱怨；这是一项必要的工作，而有谁比我更能胜任呢？不过，获取他们的信任却不容易。
我身上有明显的迹象表明我曾试图和巫师们混在一块儿，你知道，而他们却喜欢避开通常的社会，住在边缘地带，靠偷窃——有时是杀戮——来获取食物。”
“他们怎么会喜欢伏地魔呢？”
“他们认为在他的统治下可以过得好一些，”卢平说。“而且要策反格雷巴克非常困难……”
“谁是格雷巴克？”
“你没有听说过他吗？”卢平膝盖上的双手痉挛地握紧了。“芬利·格雷巴克也许是现存的最残忍的一个狼人。他把尽可能地撕咬和传染更多的人作为生活的目标；他想要制造出足够多的
狼人来征服巫师。伏地魔承诺给他一些牺牲品作为他服务的回报。格雷巴克专门咬小孩……他说，要在他们小时候去咬，使他们在远离父母的环境下长大，怀着对正常巫师的憎恨成长起来；伏
地魔曾用放他出去咬他们的儿女来威胁别人；这样的威胁常常奏效。”
卢平顿了一下，然后说，“就是格雷巴克咬了我。”
“什么？”哈利大感惊讶。“什么时候——你是指在你小的时候？”
“是的。我父亲得罪过他。很长一段时间以来我都不知道攻击我的那个狼人的身份；我甚至同情他，以为他是无法控制自己，那时也明白变形是什么感觉。但是格雷巴克并非如此。满月的
时候他会去接近受害者，确保近得足够进行攻击。一切都是他计划好的。伏地魔就是用他来组织和领导狼人的。我不能说自己独特的合理观点在格雷巴克身上取得了多少进展，他还是坚持血是
我们狼人理所应得的，坚持我们应该向正常人报复。”
“但你就是正常人！”哈利激烈地说。“你只是有一个——一个难题——”
卢平突然大笑起来。
“有时候你能让我想起詹姆的许多事。他和大家在一起时称其为我‘毛茸茸的小难题’。很多人都以为我养了一只喜欢捣乱的兔子。”
他从韦斯莱夫人那儿接过一杯蛋酒，说了声谢谢。看上去稍微高兴了些。而哈利与此同时感到一股兴奋劲涌了上来：卢平刚才提到了他的父亲，这提醒了哈利他还有件事情盼着问卢平。
“你听说过叫混血王子的人吗？”
“混血什么？”
“王子，”哈利密切地注视着他，希望能看到他想起来的迹象。
“没有哪个王子是巫师，”卢平微笑着说。“这是你准备采用的一个头衔吗？我本来以为‘真命天子’就足够了。”
“这和我没有关系！”哈利愤怒地说。“混血王子是一个曾在霍格沃茨念过书的人，我得到了他的旧魔药课本。书上被他写满了咒语，他发明的咒语。其中一个是轻身浮影——”
“哦，我在霍格沃茨念书时那条咒语非常流行，”卢平怀念地说。“那是在我五年级时的几个月里，你中了这条咒语就会被提着脚踝挂到半空中不能动弹。”
“我爸爸用过它，”哈利说。“我在冥想盆里见到过，他对斯内普用的。”
他试图若无其事地说出来，仿佛这是一则无关紧要的信口评论，但他不确定是否达到了想要的效果；卢平的微笑似乎有些过于善解人意了。
“是的，”他说，“但他不是唯一使用它的人。正如我说的，它非常流行……你知道这些咒语都是怎么来来去去的……”
“但听起来好像它是在你念书的那段时期被发明出来的，”哈利坚持说。
“不一定，”卢平说。“咒语的流行和过时就像其他所有的东西一样。”他看着哈利的脸平静地说，“詹姆是纯血统，哈利，我向你保证他从未让我们叫过他‘王子’。”
哈利抛开了伪装，说，“也不是小天狼星吗？或者你？”
“绝对不是。”
“哦。”哈利盯着炉火。“我只是觉得——嗯，他在魔药课上给我帮了大忙，那个王子。”
“那本书有多老了，哈利？”
“我不知道，我没有查过。”
“那么，也许这会帮你找到一些关于王子什么时候在霍格沃茨念书的线索。”卢平说。
刚说完这些，芙蓉就决定模仿塞莉斯汀娜唱起了“盛满浓烈爱情的坩埚”，大家瞥见韦斯莱夫人的脸色之后，就知道该上床睡觉去了。哈利和罗恩一路爬到了罗恩阁楼上的卧室，那儿已经
为哈利添上了一张露营床。
罗恩立刻就进入了梦乡，但是哈利在上床之前从行李箱里翻出了他的那本《高级魔药制备》。他翻开书页搜寻着，终于在书的开头找到了出版日期。这本书是差不多50年前的。他的父亲和
父亲的朋友们50年前都还没进霍格沃茨呢。哈利觉得很失望，把书扔回了箱子，关上了灯，翻过身去考虑狼人和斯内普、斯坦·桑帕克和混血王子，最后不太舒服地睡着了，梦里面全是匍匐爬
行的影子和被咬的孩子们的哭喊声。
“她一定是在开玩笑……”
哈利醒来时发现一只鼓鼓的长袜正躺在他的床尾。他戴上眼镜朝四周看了看，小窗子完全被雪花糊住了，罗恩笔直地坐在窗前的床上，正在查看一根粗粗的金项链。
“那是什么？”哈利问。
“是拉文德送的，”罗恩听上去有点恶心。“她不会真的以为我会戴……”
哈利凑近看了看，然后大声地笑了起来。金项链上摇摇晃晃的几个字母是“我的甜心”。
“真不错，”他说。“很漂亮。你一定要在弗雷德和乔治面前戴上它。”
“如果你告诉他们，”罗恩把那条项链塞到枕头下面看不见的地方，“我——我——我就——”
“就对我结结巴巴？”哈利咧嘴笑了。“想想看，我会说吗？”
“可她怎么能觉得我喜欢那种东西呢？”罗恩对着空气质问道，看上去相当震惊。
“那么，回想一下，”哈利说。“你曾经不小心告诉过她你喜欢脖子上挂着一条写着‘我的甜心’的项链抛头露面吗？”
“唉……我们真的没有说过很多话，”罗恩说。“主要都是在……”
“接吻，”哈利说。
“嗯，是的，”罗恩说。他犹豫了片刻，然后说，“赫敏真的在和麦克拉根恋爱吗？”
“我不知道，”哈利说。“他们一起去了斯拉霍恩的聚会，不过我觉得他们的进展不那么顺利。”
罗恩看上去稍稍开心了一点儿，又去深入挖掘他的长袜了。
哈利收到的礼物包括一件前面有巨大的金色飞贼花样的毛衣，是韦斯莱夫人亲手织的，双胞胎送了一大盒韦斯莱魔法把戏商店的产品，另外还有一个闻起来发了霉的潮湿包裹，上面有个标
签写着：“给主人，来自克利切”。
哈利盯着它。“你猜打开这个东西安全吗？”他问道。
“不会有任何危险的东西，我们的邮件仍在被魔法部检查，”罗恩回答，不过他也怀疑地看着那个包裹。
“我没想过送克利切任何东西。人们通常会送他们的家养小精灵圣诞礼物吗？”哈利问，谨慎地捅了捅包裹。
“赫敏会的，”罗恩说。“但是在你感到内疚之前还是先看看到底是什么吧。”
片刻之后，哈利大叫一
收听单词发音 |
1
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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sprout
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| n.芽，萌芽；vt.使发芽，摘去芽；vi.长芽，抽条 | |
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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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burrow
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| vt.挖掘(洞穴)；钻进；vi.挖洞；翻寻；n.地洞 | |
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5
sprouts
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| n.新芽，嫩枝( sprout的名词复数 )v.发芽( sprout的第三人称单数 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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9
whoops
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| int.呼喊声 | |
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displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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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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12
attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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13
harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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14
ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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15
irate
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| adj.发怒的，生气 | |
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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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17
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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18
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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19
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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lavishly
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| adv.慷慨地，大方地 | |
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21
gnome
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| n.土地神；侏儒，地精 | |
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22
glowered
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| v.怒视( glower的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
wireless
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| adj.无线的；n.无线电 | |
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24
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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25
covert
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| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
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26
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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27
embark
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| vi.乘船，着手，从事，上飞机 | |
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28
ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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29
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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30
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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31
skeptical
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| adj.怀疑的，多疑的 | |
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32
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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33
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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34
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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35
wreaked
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| 诉诸（武力），施行（暴力），发（脾气）( wreak的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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36
tampering
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| v.窜改( tamper的现在分词 )；篡改；（用不正当手段）影响；瞎摆弄 | |
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37
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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38
bustled
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| 闹哄哄地忙乱，奔忙( bustle的过去式和过去分词 )； 催促 | |
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39
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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40
shunned
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
margins
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| 边( margin的名词复数 )； 利润； 页边空白； 差数 | |
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42
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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43
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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44
unleash
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| vt.发泄，发出；解带子放开 | |
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45
insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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46
Vogue
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| n.时髦，时尚；adj.流行的 | |
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47
hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
pretense
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| n.矫饰，做作，借口 | |
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49
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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50
delved
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| v.深入探究，钻研( delve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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52
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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53
wheezes
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| n.喘息声( wheeze的名词复数 )v.喘息，发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的第三人称单数 ) | |
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54
prodding
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| v.刺，戳( prod的现在分词 )；刺激；促使；（用手指或尖物）戳 | |
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55
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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56
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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57
gravy
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| n.肉汁；轻易得来的钱，外快 | |
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58
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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59
upheaval
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| n.胀起，(地壳)的隆起；剧变，动乱 | |
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60
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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61
intrude
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| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
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62
bowler
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| n.打保龄球的人，（板球的）投（球）手 | |
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63
rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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64
squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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65
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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66
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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67
divulge
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| v.泄漏(秘密等)；宣布，公布 | |
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68
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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69
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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70
tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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71
onerous
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| adj.繁重的 | |
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72
scapegoat
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| n.替罪的羔羊，替人顶罪者；v.使…成为替罪羊 | |
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73
mascot
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| n.福神，吉祥的东西 | |
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74
crouch
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| v.蹲伏，蜷缩，低头弯腰；n.蹲伏 | |
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75
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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76
pals
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| n.朋友( pal的名词复数 )；老兄；小子；（对男子的不友好的称呼）家伙 | |
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77
extricate
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| v.拯救，救出；解脱 | |
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78
interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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