时间：02-28 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：4326
The walk into Hogsmeade was not enjoyable. Harry wrapped his scarf over his lower face; the exposed part soon felt both raw and numb. The road to the village was full of students bent double against the bitter wind. More than once Harry wondered whether they might not have had a better time in the warm common room, and when they finally reached Hogsmeade and saw that Zonko's Joke Shop had been boarded up, Harry took it as confirmation that this trip was not destined to be fun. Ron pointed, with a thickly gloved hand, toward Honeydukes, which was mercifully open, and Harry and Hermione staggered in his wake into the crowded shop.
"Hand that over, Harry," said Hermione hurriedly. "It says we're supposed to puncture them with something sharp. . . ."
The man in rags was now advancing on Ogden, knife in one hand, wand in the other.
"Sir," said Harry tentatively, "I met Mundungus in Hogsmeade."
Neither of his chosen Beaters had the old brilliance of Fred and George, but he was still reasonably pleased with them: Jimmy Peakes, a short but broad-chested third-year boy who had managed to raise a lump the size of an egg on the back of Harry's head with a ferociously hit Bludger, and Ritchie Coote, who looked weedy but aimed well. They now joined Katie, Demelza, and Ginny in the stands to watch the selection of their last team member.
Harry looked at his watch and hurriedly put the old copy of Advanced Potion-Making back into his bag.
"So who do you reckon Katie was supposed to give the necklace to?" asked Ron, as they climbed the stairs to the common room.
Really stumped this time, Harry found nothing else to say. There did not seem to be any way Malfoy could have brought a dangerous or Dark object into the school. He looked hopefully at Ron, who was sitting with his arms folded, staring over at Lavender Brown.
"But Harry," Hermione interrupted, "Borgin asked him if he wanted to take it with him, and Malfoy said no —"
"Yes, Riddle was perfectly ready to believe that he was ?to use his word ?'special,'" said Dumbledore.
"My God, what an eyesore!" rang out a girl's voice, as clearly au-dible through the open window as if she had stood in the room be-side them. "Couldn't your father have that hovel cleared away, Tom?"
"Ha!" said Harry, unwrapping the parcel to reveal a new copy of Advanced Potion-Making, fresh from Flourish and Blotts.
Even as he said it, Harry remembered that his father had been pure-blood, but he pushed the thought out of his mind; he would worry about that later. . . .
And he began scrabbling on the ground to retrieve the contents of his suitcase with every appearance of a man eager to be gone.
Harry did not think he could stand another full-House tryout. With a sinking feeling that had little to do with Quidditch, he cor-nered Dean Thomas after Transfiguration one day. Most of the class had already left, although several twittering yellow birds were still zooming around the room, all of Hermione's creation; nobody else had succeeded in conjuring so much as a feather from thin air.。
"And so I did," said Dumbledore placidly. "I told you everything I know. From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm founda-tion of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wildest guesswork. From here on in, Harry, I may be as woefully wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who be-lieved the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron."。