时间：02-24 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：5570
"What does it matter if we're smuggling Dark stuff OUT?" de-manded Ron, eyeing the long thin Secrecy Sensor with apprehen-sion. "Surely you ought to be checking what we bring back IN?"
"Someone's sent it to him by owl, then," he said. "His mother or someone."
His cheek earned him a few extra jabs with the Sensor, and he was still wincing as they stepped out into the wind and sleet.
"And lastly ?I hope you are not too sleepy to pay attention to this, Harry ?the young Tom Riddle liked to collect trophies. You saw the box of stolen articles he had hidden in his room. These were taken from victims of his bullying behavior, souvenirs, if you will, of particularly unpleasant bits of magic. Bear in mind this magpie-like tendency, for this, particularly, will be important later.
"Who are you?"
"And they'd love to have me," said Harry sarcastically. "We'd be best pals if they didn't keep trying to do me in."
"What's that, then, his sentence?" said Gaunt, his voice rising angrily.
wall behind her. She was standing beside a steaming pot on a grimy black stove, and was fiddling around with the shelf of squalid-looking pots and pans above it. Her hair was lank 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.
"Well, I've had Quidditch practice, Professor," said Harry, who had indeed been scheduling practices every time Slughorn had sent him a little, violet ribbon-adorned invitation. This strategy meant that Ron was not left out, and they usually had a laugh with Ginny, imagining Hermione shut up with McLaggen and Zabini.
"'Darling,'" whispered Morfin in Parseltongue, looking at his sister. "'Darling, he called her. So he wouldn't have you anyway."
"Yes, thank you, Phineas," said Dumbledore quellingly. "Professor Snape knows much more about the Dark Arts than Madam Pomfrey, Harry. Anyway, the St. Mungo's staff are sending me hourly reports, and I am hopeful that Katie will make a full recovery in time."
"Now, as it happens, she did," said Mrs. Cole, who seemed to be rather enjoying herself now, with the gin in her hand and an eager audience for her story. "I remember she said to me, 'I hope he looks like his papa,' and I won't lie, she was right to hope it, because she was no beauty ?and then she told me he was to be named Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, for her father ?yes, I know, funny name, isn't it? We wondered whether she came from a circus ?and she said the boy's surname was to be Riddle. And she died soon after that without another word.
"Add a clockwise stir -"
"What he actually said was, 'How would I look carrying that down the street?'" said Hermione.
Harry had indeed been eyeing the Pensieve with some appre-hension. 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.
Harry felt slightly resentful at this: If their lessons were so very important, why had there been such a long gap between the first and second? However, he said no more about Draco Malfoy, but watched as Dumbledore poured the fresh memories into the Pensieve and began swirling the stone basin once more between his long-fingered hands.
"He was employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforce-ment," said Dumbledore. "He died some time ago, but not before I had tracked him down and persuaded him to confide these recol-lections to me. We are about to accompany him on a visit he made in the course of his duties. If you will stand, Harry ..."