The Ghoul in Pajamas
The shock of losing Mad-Eye hung over the house in the days that followed; Harry kept expecting to see him stumping in through the back door like the other Order members, who passed in and out to relay news. Harry felt that nothing but action would assuage his feelings of guilt and grief and that he ought to set out on his mission to find and destroy Horcruxes as soon as possible.
“Well, you can’t do anything about the” – Ron mouthed the word Horcruxes – “till you’re seventeen. You’ve still got the Trace on you. And we can plan here as well as
anywhere, can’t we? Or,” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “d’you reckon you already
know where the You-Know-Whats are?”
“No,” Harry admitted.
“I think Hermione’s been doing a bit of research,” said Ron. “She said she was saving it for when you got here.”
They were sitting at the breakfast table; Mr. Weasley and Bill had just left for work. Mrs. Weasley had gone upstairs to wake Hermione and Ginny, while Fleur had drifted off to take a bath.
“The Trace’ll break on the thirty-first,” said Harry. “That means I only need to stay here four days. Then I can –“
“Five days,” Ron corrected him firmly. “We’ve got to stay for the wedding. They’ll kill us if we miss it.”
Harry understood “they” to mean Fleur and Mrs. Weasley.
“It’s one extra day,” said Ron, when Harry looked mutinous.
“Don’t they realize how important –?”
“’Course they don’t,” said Ron. “They haven’t got a clue. And now you mention it, I wanted to talk to you about that.”
Ron glanced toward the door into the hall to check that Mrs. Weasley was not returning yet, then leaned in closer to Harry.
“Mum’s been trying to get it out of Hermione and me. What we’re off to do. She’ll try you next, so brace yourself. Dad and Lupin’ve both asked as well, but when we said Dumbledore told you not to tell anyone except us, they dropped it. Not Mum, though. She’s determined.”
Ron’s prediction came true within hours. Shortly before lunch, Mrs. Weasley
detached Harry from the others by asking him to help identify a lone man’s sock that she thought might have come out of his rucksack. Once she had him cornered in the tiny scullery off the kitchen, she started.
“Ron and Hermione seem to think that the three of you are dropping out of Hogwarts,” she began in a light, casual tone.
“Oh,” said Harry. “Well, yeah. We are.”
The mangle turned of its own accord in a corner, wringing out what looked like one of Mr. Weasley’s vests.
“May I ask why you are abandoning your education?” said Mrs. Weasley.
“Well, Dumbledore left me . . . stuff to do,” mumbled Harry. “Ron and Hermione know about it, and they want to come too.”
“What sort of ‘stuff’?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t –“
“Well, frankly, I think Arthur and I have a right to know, and I’m sure Mr. And Mrs. Granger would aGREe!” said Mrs. Weasley. Harry had been afraid of the “concerned
parent” attack. He forced himself to look directly into her eyes, noticing as he did so that they were precisely the same shade of brown as Ginny’s. This did not help.
“Dumbledore didn’t want anyone else to know, Mrs. Weasley. I’m sorry. Ron and Hermione don’t have to come, it’s their choice –“
“I don’t see that you have to go either!” she snapped, dropping all pretense now.
“You’re barely of age, any of you! It’s utter nonsense, if Dumbledore needed work doing,
he had the whole Order at his command! Harry, you must have misunderstood him. Probably he was telling you something he wanted done, and you took it to mean that he wanted you–“
“I didn’t misunderstand,” said Harry flatly. “It’s got to be me.”
He handed her back the single sock he was supposed to be identifying, which was patterned with golden bulrushes.
“And that’s not mine. I don’t support Puddlemere United.”
“Oh, of course not,” said Mrs. Weasley with a sudden and rather unnerving return to her casual tone. “I should have realized. Well, Harry, while we’ve still got you here, you won’t mind helping with the preparations for Bill and Fleur’s wedding, will you? There’s still so much to do.”
“No – I – of course not,” said Harry, disconcerted by this sudden change of subject. “Sweet of you,” she replied, and she smiled as she left the scullery.
From that moment on, Mrs. Weasley kept Harry, Ron and Hermione so busy with preparations for the wedding that they hardly had any time to think. The kindest explanation of this behavior would have been that Mrs. Weasley wanted to distract them all from thoughts of Mad-Eye and the terrors of their recent journey. After two days of nonstop cutlery cleaning, of color-matching favors, ribbons, and flowers, of de-gnoming the garden and helping Mrs. Weasley cook vast batches of canapés, however, Harry started to suspect her of a different motive. All the jobs she handed out seemed to keep him, Ron, and Hermione away from one another; he had not had a chance to speak to the two of them alone since the first night, when he had told them about Voldemort torturing Ollivander.
“I think Mum thinks that if she can stop the three of you getting together and planning, she’ll be able to delay you leaving,” Ginny told Harry in an undertone, as they laid the table for dinner on the third night of his stay.
“And then what does she think’s going to happen?” Harry muttered. “Someone else might kill off Voldemort while she’s holding us here making vol-au-vents?”
He had spoken without thinking, and saw Ginny’s face whiten.
“So it’s true?” she said. “That’s what you’re trying to do?”
“I – not – I was joking,” said Harry evasively.
They stared at each other, and there was something more than shock in Ginny’s expression. Suddenly Harry became aware that this was the first time that he had been alone with her since those stolen hours in secluded corners of the Hogwarts grounds. He was sure she was remembering them too. Both of them jumped as the door opened, and Mr. Weasley, Kingsley, and Bill walked in. They were often joined by other Order members for dinner now, because the Burrow had replaced number twelve, Grimmauld Place as the headquarters. Mr. Weasley had explained that after the death of Dumbledore, their Secret-Keeper, each of the people to whom Dumbledore had confided Grimmauld Place’s location had become a Secret-Keeper in turn.
“And as there are around twenty of us, that greatly dilutes the power of the Fidelius Charm. Twenty times as many opportunities for the Death Eaters to get the secret out of somebody. We can’t expect it to hold much longer.”
“But surely Snape will have told the Death Eaters the address by now?” asked Harry.
“Well, Mad-Eye set up a couple of curses against Snape in case he turns up there again. We hope they’ll be strong enough both to keep him out and to bind his tongue if he tries to talk about the place, but we can’t be sure. It would have been insane to keep using the place as headquarters now that its protection has become so shaky.”
The kitchen was so crowded that evening it was difficult to maneuver knives and forks. Harry found himself crammed beside Ginny; the unsaid things that had just passed between them made him wish they had been separated by a few more people. He was trying so hard to avoid brushing her arm he could barely cut his chicken.
“No news about Mad-Eye?” Harry asked Bill.
“Nothing,” replied Bill.
They had not been able to hold a funeral for Moody, because Bill and Lupin had failed to recover his body. It had been difficult to know where he might have fallen, given the darkness and the confusion of the battle.
“The Daily Prophet hasn’t said a word about him dying or about finding the body,” Bill went on. “But that doesn’t mean much. It’s keeping a lot quiet these days.”
“And they still haven’t called a hearing about all the underage magic I used escaping the Death Eaters?” Harry called across the table to Mr. Weasley, who shook his head.
“Because they know I had no choice or because they don’t want me to tell the world Voldemort attacked me?”
“The latter, I think. Scrimgeour doesn’t want to admit that You-Know-Who is as powerful as he is, nor that Azkaban’s seen a mass breakout.”
“Yeah, why tell the public the truth?” said Harry, clenching his knife so tightly that the faint scars on the back of his right hand stood out, white against his skin: I must not tell lies.
“Isn’t anyone at the Ministry prepared to stand up to him?” asked Ron angrily.
“Of course, Ron, but people are terrified,” Mr. Weasley replied, “terrified that they will be next to disappear, their children the next to be attacked! There are nasty rumors going around; I for one don’t believe the Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts resigned. She hasn’t been seen for weeks now. Meanwhile Scrimgeour remains shut up in his office all day; I just hope he’s working on a plan.”
There was a pause in which Mrs. Weasley magicked the empty plates onto the work surface and served apple tart.
“We must decide ‘ow you will be disguised, ‘Arry,” said Fleur, once everyone had pudding. “For ze wedding,” she added, when he looked confused. “Of course, none of our guests are Death Eaters, but we cannot guarantee zat zey will not let something slip after zey ‘ave ‘ad champagne.”
From this, Harry gathered that she still suspected Hagrid. “Yes, good point,” said Mrs. Weasley from the top of the table where she sat, spectacles perched on the end of her nose, scanning an immense list of jobs that she had scribbled on a very long piece of parchment. “Now, Ron, have you cleaned out your room yet?”
“Why?” exclaimed Ron, slamming his spoon down and glaring at his mother.
“Why does my room have to be cleaned out? Harry and I are fine with it the way it is!”
“We are holding your brother’s wedding here in a few days’ time, young man –“
“And are they getting married in my bedroom?” asked Ron furiously. “No! So
why in the name of Merlin’s saggy left –“
“Don’t talk to your mother like that,” said Mr. Weasley firmly. “And do as you’re
told.”
Ron scowled at both his parents, then picked up his spoon and attacked the last few mouthfuls of his apple tart.
“I can help, some of it’s my mess.” Harry told Ron, but Mrs. Weasley cut across him.
“No, Harry, dear, I’d much rather you helped Arthur much out the chickens, and Hermione, I’d be ever so grateful if you’d change the sheets for Monsieur and Madame Delacour; you know they’re arriving at eleven tomorrow morning.”
But as it turned out, there was very little to do for the chickens. “There’s no need to, er, mention it to Molly,” Mr. Weasley told Harry, blocking his access to the coop, “but, er, Ted Tonks sent me most of what was left of Sirius’s bike and, er, I’m hiding – that’s to say, keeping – it in here. Fantastic stuff: There’s an exhaust gaskin, as I believe it’s called, the most magnificent battery, and it’ll be a great opportunity to find out how brakes work. I’m going to try and put it all back together again when Molly’s not – I mean, when I’ve got time.”
When they returned to the house, Mrs. Weasley was nowhere to be seen, so Harry slipped upstairs to Ron’s attic bedroom.
“I’m doing it, I’m doing – ! Oh, it’s you,” said Ron in relief, as Harry entered the room. Ron lay back down on the bed, which he had evidently just vacated. The room was just as messy as it had been all week; the only chance was that Hermione was now sitting in the far corner, her fluffy ginger cat, Crookshanks, at her feet, sorting books, some of which Harry recognized as his own, into two enormous piles.
“Hi, Harry,” she said, as he sat down on his camp bed.
“And how did you manage to get away?”
“Oh, Ron’s mum forgot that she asked Ginny and me to change the sheets yesterday,” said Hermione. She threw Numerology and Grammatica onto one pile and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts onto the other.
“We were just talking about Mad-Eye,” Ron told Harry. “I reckon he might have survived.”
“But Bill saw him hit by the Killing Curse,” said Harry.
“Yeah, but Bill was under attack too,” said Ron. “How can he be sure what he saw?”
“Even if the Killing Curse missed, Mad-Eye still fell about a thousand feet,” said Hermione, now weight Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland in her hand.
“He could have used a Shield Charm –“
“Fleur said his wand was blasted out of his hand,” said Harry.
“Well, all right, if you want him to be dead,” said Ron grumpily, punching his pillow into a more comfortable shape.
“Of course we don’t want him to be dead!” said Hermione, looking shocked. “It’s dreadful that he’s dead! But we’re being realistic!”
For the first time, Harry imagined Mad-Eye’s body, broken as Dumbledore’s had been, yet with that one eye still whizzing in its socket. He felt a stab of revulsion mixed with a bizarre desire to laugh.
“The Death Eaters probably tidied up after themselves, that’s why no one’s found him,” said Ron wisely.
“Yeah,” said Harry. “Like Barty Crouch, turned into a bone and buried in Hagrid’s front garden. They probably transfigured Moody and stuffed him –“
“Don’t!” squealed Hermione. Startled, Harry looked over just in time to see her burst into tears over her copy of Spellman’s Syllabary.
“Oh no,” said Harry, struggling to get up from the old camp bed. “Hermione, I wasn’t trying to upset –“
But with a great creaking of rusty bedsprings, Ron bounded off the bed and got there first. One arm around Hermione, he fished in his jeans pocket and withdrew a revolting-looking handkerchief that he had used to clean out the oven earlier. Hastily pulling out his wand, he pointed it at the rag and said, “Tergeo.”
The wand siphoned off most of the grease. Looking rather pleased with himself, Ron handed the slightly smoking handkerchief to Hermione.
“Oh . . . thanks, Ron. . . . I’m sorry. . . .” She blew her nose and hiccupped. “It’s just so awf-ful, isn’t it? R-right after Dumbledore . . . I j-just n-never imagined Mad-Eye dying, somehow, he seemed so tough!”
“Yeah, I know,” said Ron, giving her a squeeze. “But you know what he’d say to us if he was here?”
“’C-constant vigilance,’” said Hermione, mopping her eyes.
“That’s right,” said Ron, nodding. “He’d tell us to learn from what happened to him. And what I’ve learned is not to trust that cowardly little squit, Mundungus.”
Hermione gave a shaky laugh and leaned forward to pick up two more books. A second later, Ron had snatched his arm back from around her shoulders; she had dropped
The Monster of Monsters on his foot. The book had broken free from its restraining belt and snapped viciously at Ron’s ankle.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Hermione cried as Harry wrenched the book from Ron’s leg and retied it shit.
“What are you doing with all those books anyway?” Ron asked, limping back to his bed.
“Just trying to decide which ones to take with us,” said Hermione, “When we’re
looking for the Horcruxes.”
“Oh, of course,” said Ron, clapping a hand to his forehead. “I forgot we’ll be
hunting down Voldemort in a mobile library.”
“Ha ha,” said Hermione, looking down at Spellman’s Syllabary. “I wonder . . .
will we need to translate runes? It’s possible. . . . I think we’d better take it, to be safe.”
She dropped the syllabary onto the larger of the two piles and picked up Hogwarts,
A History.
“Listen,” said Harry.
He had sat up straight. Ron and Hermione looked at him with similar mixtures of
resignation and defiance.
“I know you said after Dumbledore’s funeral that you wanted to come with me,”
Harry began.
“Here he goes,” Ron said to Hermione, rolling his eyes.
“As we knew he would,” he sighed, turning back to the books. “You know, I
think I will take Hogwarts, A History. Even if we’re not going back there, I don’t think
I’d feel right if I didn’t have it with –“
“Listen!” said Harry again.
“No, Harry, you listen,” said Hermione. “We’re coming with you. That was decided months ago – years, really.”
“But –“
“Shut up,” Ron advised him.
“– are you sure you’ve thought this through?” Harry persisted.
“Let’s see,” said Hermione, slamming Travels with Trolls onto the discarded pile with a rather fierce look. “I’ve been packing for days, so we’re ready to leave at a moment’s notice, which for your information has included doing some pretty difficult magic, not to mention smuggling Mad-Eye’s whole stock of Polyjuice Potion right under Ron’s mum’s nose.
“I’ve also modified my parents’ memories so that they’re convinced they’re really called Wendell and Monica Wilkins, and that their life’s ambition is to move to Australia, which they have now done. That’s to make it more difficult for Voldemort to track them down and interrogate them about me – or you, because unfortunately, I’ve told them quite a bit about you.
“Assuming I survive our hunt for the Horcruxes, I’ll find Mum and Dad and lift the enchantment. If I don’t – well, I think I’ve cast a good enough charm to keep them safe and happy. Wendell and Monica Wilkins don’t know that they’ve got a daughter, you see.”
Hermione’s eyes were swimming with tears again. Ron got back off the bed, put his arm around her once more, and frowned at Harry as though reproaching him for lack of tact. Harry could not think of anything to say, not least because it was highly unusual for Ron to be teaching anyone else tact.
“I – Hermione, I’m sorry – I didn’t –“
“Didn’t realize that Ron and I know perfectly well what might happen if we come with you? Well, we do. Ron, show Harry what you’ve done.”
“Nah, he’s just eaten,” said Ron.
“Go on, he needs to know!”
“Oh, all right. Harry, come here.”
For the second time Ron withdrew his arm from around Hermione and stumped over to the door.
“C’mon.”
“Why?” Harry asked, following Ron out of the room onto the tiny landing.
“Descendo,” muttered Ron, pointing his wand at the low ceiling. A hatch opened right over their heads and a ladder slid down to their feet. A horrible, half-sucking, half-moaning sound came out of the square hole, along with an unpleasant smell like open drains.
“That’s your ghoul, isn’t it?” asked Harry, who had never actually met the creature that sometimes disrupted the nightly silence.
“Yeah, it is,” said Ron, climbing the ladder. “Come and have a look at him.”
Harry followed Ron up the few short steps into the tiny attic space. His head and shoulders were in the room before he caught sight of the creature curled up a few feet from him, fast asleep in the gloom with its large mouth wide open.
“But it . . . it looks . . . do ghouls normally wear pajamas?”
“No,” said Ron. “Nor have they usually got red hair or that number of pustules.”
Harry contemplated the thing, slightly revolted. It was human in shape and size, and was wearing what, now that Harry’s eyes became used to the darkness, was clearly an old pair of Ron’s pajamas. He was also sure that ghouls were generally rather slimy and bald, rather than distinctly hairy and covered in angry purple blisters.
“He’s me, see?” said Ron.
“No,” said Harry. “I don’t.”
“I’ll explain it back in my room, the smell’s getting to me,” said Ron. They climbed back down the ladder, which Ron returned to the ceiling, and rejoined Hermione, who was still sorting books.
“Once we’ve left, the ghoul’s going to come and live down here in my room,”
said Ron. “I think he’s really looking forward to it – well, it’s hard to tell, because all he
can do is moan and drool – but he nods a lot when you mention it. Anyway, he’s going to
be me with spattergroit. Good, eh?”
Harry merely looked his confusion.
“It is!” said Ron, clearly frustrated that Harry had not grasped the brilliance of the plan. “Look, when we three don’t turn up at Hogwarts again, everyone’s going to think Hermione and I must be with you, right? Which means the Death Eaters will go straight for our families to see if they’ve got information on where you are.”
“But hopefully it’ll look like I’ve gone away with Mum and Dad; a lot of Muggle-borns are talking about going into hiding at the moment,” said Hermione.
“We can’t hide my whole family, it’ll look too fishy and they can’t all leave their jobs,” said Ron. “So we’re going to put out the story that I’m seriously ill with spattergroit, which is why I can’t go back to school. If anyone comes calling to investigate, Mum or Dad can show them the ghoul in my bed, covered in pustules.
Spattergroit’s really contagious, so they’re not going to want to go near him. It won’t matter that he can’t say anything, either, because apparently you can’t once the fungus has spread to your uvula.”
“And your mum and dad are in on this plan?” asked Harry.
“Dad is. He helped Fred and George transform the ghoul. Mum . . . well, you’ve seen what she’s like. She won’t accept we’re going till we’re gone.”
There was silence in the room, broken only by gentle thuds as Hermione continued to throw books onto one pile or the other. Ron sat watching her, and Harry looked from one to the other, unable to say anything. The measure they had taken to protect their families made him realize, more than anything else could have done, that they really were going to come with him and that they knew exactly how dangerous that would be. He wanted to tell them what that meant to him, but he simply could not find words important enough. Through the silence came the muffled sounds of Mrs. Weasley shouting from four floors below.
“Ginny’s probably left a speck of dust on a poxy napkin ring,” said Ron. “I dunno why the Delacours have got to come two days before the wedding.”
“Fleur’s sister’s a bridesmaid, she needs to be here for the rehearsal, and she’s too
young to come on her own,” said Hermione, as she pored indecisively over Break with a Banshee.
“Well, guests aren’t going to help Mum’s stress levels,” said Ron.
“What we really need to decide,” said Hermione, tossing Defensive Magical Theory into the bin without a second glance and picking up An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, “is where we’re going after we leave here. I know you said you wanted to go to Godric’s Hollow first, Harry, and I understand why, but . . . well . . .
shouldn’t we make the Horcruxes our priority?”
“If we knew where any of the Horcruxes were, I’d agree with you,” said Harry, who did not believe that Hermione really understood his desire to return to Godric’s Hollow. His parents’ graves were only part of the attraction: He had a strong, though inexplicable, feeling that the place held answers for him. Perhaps it was simply because it was there that he had survived Voldemort’s Killing Curse; now that he was facing the challenge of repeating the feat, Harry was drawn to the place where it had happened, wanting to understand.
“Don’t you think there’s a possibility that Voldemort’s keeping a watch on Godric’s Hollow?” Hermione asked. “He might expect you to go back and visit your parents’ graves once you’re free to go wherever you like?”
This had not occurred to Harry. While he struggled to find a counterargument, Ron spoke up, evidently following his own train of thought.
“This R.A.B. person,” he said. “You know, the one who stole the real locket?”
Hermione nodded.
“He said in his note he was going to destroy it, didn’t he?”
Harry dragged his rucksack toward him and pulled out the fake Horcrux in which R.A.B.’s note was still folded.
“’I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.’” Harry
read out.
“Well, what if he did finish it off?” said Ron.
“Or she.” Interposed Hermione.
“Whichever,” said Ron. “it’d be one less for us to do!”
“Yes, but we’re still going to have to try and trace the real locket, aren’t we?” said
Hermione, “to find out whether or not it’s destroyed.”
“And once we get hold of it, how do you destroy a Horcrux?” asked Ron.
“Well,” said Hermione, “I’ve been researching that.”
“How?” asked Harry. “I didn’t think there were any books on Horcruxes in the
library?”
“There weren’t,” said Hermione, who had turned pink. “Dumbledore removed
them all, but he – he didn’t destroy them.”
Ron sat up straight, wide-eyed.
“How in the name of Merlin’s pants have you managed to get your hands on those
Horcrux books?”
“It – it wasn’t stealing!” said Hermione, looking from Harry to Ron with a kind of
desperation. “They were still library books, even if Dumbledore had taken them off the
shelves. Anyway, if he really didn’t want anyone to get at them, I’m sure he would have
made it much harder to –“
“Get to the point!” said Ron.
“Well . . . it was easy,” said Hermione in a small voice. “I just did a Summoning
Charm. You know – Accio. And – they zoomed out of Dumbledore’s study window right
into the girls’ dormitory.”
“But when did you do this?” Harry asked, regarding Hermione with a mixture of
admiration and incredulity.
“Just after his – Dumbledore’s – funeral,” said Hermione in an even smaller voice.
“Right after we agreed we’d leave school and go and look for the Horcruxes. When I
went back upstairs to get my things it – it just occurred to me that the more we knew
about them, the better it would be . . . and I was alone in there . . . so I tried . . . and it
worked. They flew straight in through the open window and I – I packed them.”
She swallowed and then said imploringly, “I can’t believe Dumbledore would
have been angry, it’s not as though we’re going to use the information to make a Horcrux,
is it?”
“Can you hear us complaining?” said Ron. “Where are these books anyway?”
Hermione rummaged for a moment and then extracted from the pile a large
volume, bound in faded black leather. She looked a little nauseated and held it as gingerly
as if it were something recently dead.
“This is the one that gives explicit instructions on how to make a Horcrux. Secrets
of the Darkest Art – it’s a horrible book, really awful, full of evil magic. I wonder when
Dumbledore removed it from the library. . . . if he didn’t do it until he was headmaster, I
bet Voldemort got all the instruction he needed from here.”
“Why did he have to ask Slughorn how to make a Horcrux, then, if he’d already
read that?” asked Ron.
“He only approached Slughorn to find out what would happen if you split your
soul into seven,” said Harry. “Dumbledore was sure Riddle already knew how to make a
Horcrux by the time he asked Slughorn about them. I think you’re right, Hermione, that
could easily have been where he got the information.”
“And the more I’ve read about them,” said Hermione, “the more horrible they
seem, and the less I can believe that he actually made six. It warns in this book how
unstable you make the rest of your soul by ripping it, and that’s just by making one
Horcrux!”
Harry remembered what Dumbledore had said about Voldemort moving beyond
“usual evil.”
“Isn’t there any way of putting yourself back together?” Ron asked.
“Yes,” said Hermione with a hollow smile, “but it would be excruciatingly
painful.”
“Why? How do you do it?” asked Harry.
“Remorse,” said Hermione. “You’ve got to really feel what you’ve done. There’s
a footnote. Apparently the pain of it can destroy you. I can’t see Voldemort attempting it
somehow, can you?”
“No,” said Ron, before Harry could answer. “So does it say how to destroy
Horcruxes in that book?”
“Yes,” said Hermione, now turning the fragile pages as if examining rotting
entrails, “because it warns Dark wizards how strong they have to make the enchantments
on them. From all that I’ve read, what Harry did to Riddle’s diary was one of the few
really foolproof ways of destroying a Horcrux.”
“What, stabbing it with a basilisk fang?” asked Harry.
“Oh well, lucky we’ve got such a large supply of basilisk fangs, then,” said Ron.
“I was wondering what we were going to do with them.”
“It doesn’t have to be a basilisk fang,” said Hermione patiently. “It has to be
something so destructive that the Horcrux can’t repair itself. Basilisk venom only has one
antidote, and it’s incredibly rare –“
“– phoenix tears,” said Harry, nodding.
“Exactly,” said Hermione. “Our problem is that there are very few substances as
destructive as basilisk venom, and they’re all dangerous to carry around with you. That’s
a problem we’re going to have to solve, though, because ripping, smashing, or crushing a
Horcrux won’t do the trick. You’ve got to put it beyond magical repair.”
“But even if we wreck the thing it lives in,” said Ron, “why can’t the bit of soul in
it just go and live in something else?”
“Because a Horcrux is the complete opposite of a human being.”
Seeing that Harry and Ron looked thoroughly confused, Hermione hurried on.
“Look, if I picked up a sword right now, Ron, and ran you through with it, I wouldn’t
damage your soul at all.”
”Which would be a real comfort to me, I’m sure,” said Ron. Harry laughed.
“It should be, actually! But my point is that whatever happens to your body, your
soul will survive, untouched,” said Hermione. “But it’s the other way round with a
Horcrux. The fragment of soul inside it depends on its container, its enchanted body, for
survival. It can’t exist without it.”
“That diary sort of died when I stabbed it,” said Harry, remembering ink pouring
like blood from the punctured pages, and the screams of the piece of Voldemort’s soul as
it vanished.
“And once the diary was properly destroyed, the bit of soul trapped in it could no
longer exist. Ginny tried to get rid of the diary before you did, flushing it away, but
obviously it came back good as new.”
“Hang on,” said Ron, frowning. “The bit of soul in that diary was possessing
Ginny, wasn’t it? How does that work, then?”
“While the magical container is still intact, the bit of soul inside it can flit in and
out of someone if they get too close to the object. I don’t mean holding it for too long, it’s
nothing to do with touching it,” she added before Ron could speak. “I mean close
emotionally. Ginny poured her heart out into that diary, she made herself incredibly
vulnerable. You’re in trouble if you get too fond of or dependent on the Horcrux.”
“I wonder how Dumbledore destroyed the ring?” said Harry. “Why didn’t I ask
him? I never really . . .”
His voice trailed away: He was thinking of all the things he should have asked
Dumbledore, and of how, since the headmaster had died, it seemed to Harry that he had
wasted so many opportunities when Dumbledore had been alive, to find out more . . . to
find out everything. . . .
The silence was shattered as the bedroom door flew open with a wall-shaking
crash. Hermione shrieked and dropped Secrets of the Darkest Art; Crookshanks streaked
under the bed, hissing indignantly; Ron jumped off the bed, skidded on a discarded
Chocolate Frog wrapper, and smacked his head on the opposite wall; and Harry
instinctively dived for his wand before realizing that he was looking up at Mrs. Weasley,
whose hair was disheveled and whose face was contorted with rage.
“I’m so sorry to break up this cozy little gathering,” she said, her voice trembling.
“I’m sure you all need your rest . . . but there are wedding presents stacked in my room
that need sorting out and I was under the impression that you had agreed to help.”
“Oh yes,” said Hermione, looking terrified as she leapt to her feet, sending books
flying in every direction. “we will . . . we’re sorry . . .”
With an anguished look at Harry and Ron, Hermione hurried out of the room after
Mrs. Weasley.
“it’s like being a house-elf,” complained Ron in an undertone, still massaging his
head as he and Harry followed. “Except without the job satisfaction. The sooner this
wedding’s over, the happier, I’ll be.”
“Yeah,” said Harry, “then we’ll have nothing to do except find Horcruxes. . . .
It’ll be like a holiday, won’t it?”
Ron started to laugh, but at the sight of the enormous pile of wedding presents
waiting for them in Mrs. Weasley’s room, stopped quite abruptly.
The Delacours arrived the following morning at eleven o’ clock. Harry, Ron,
Hermione and Ginny were feeling quite resentful toward Fleur’s family by this time; and
it was with ill grace that Ron stumped back upstairs to put on matching socks, and Harry
attempted to flatten his hair. Once they had all been deemed smart enough, they trooped
out into the sunny backyard to await the visitors.
Harry had never seen the place looking so tidy. The rusty cauldrons and old
Wellington boots that usually littered the steps by the back door were gone, replaced by
two new Flutterby bushes standing either side of the door in large pots; though there was
no breeze, the leaves waved lazily, giving an attractive rippling effect. The chickens had
been shut away, the yard had been swept, and the nearby garden had been pruned,
plucked, and generally spruced up, although Harry, who liked it in its overgrown state,
thought that it looked rather forlorn without its usual contingent of capering gnomes.
He had lost track of how many security enchantments had been placed upon the
Burrow by both the Order and the Ministry; all he knew was that it was no longer
possible for anybody to travel by magic directly into the place. Mr. Weasley had
therefore gone to meet the Delacours on top of a nearby hill, where they were to arrive by
Portkey. The first sound of their approach was an unusually high-pitched laugh, which
turned out to be coming from Mr. Weasley, who appeared at the gate moments later,
laden with luggage and leading a beautiful blonde woman in long, leaf green robes, who
could be Fleur’s mother.
“Maman!” cried Fleur, rushing forward to embrace her. “Papa!”
Monsieur Delacour was nowhere near as attractive as his wife; he was a head
shorter and extremely plumb, with a little, pointed black beard. However, he looked
good-natured. Bouncing towards Mrs. Weasley on high-heeled boots, he kissed her twice
on each cheek, leaving her flustered.
“You ‘ave been so much trouble,” he said in a deep voice. “Fleur tells us you ‘ave
been working very ‘ard.”
“Oh, it’s been nothing, nothing!” trilled Mrs. Weasley. “No trouble at all!”
Ron relieved his feelings by aiming a kick at a gnome who was peering out from
behind one of the new Flutterby bushes.
“Dear lady!” said Monsieur Delacour, still holding Mrs. Weasley’s hand between
his own two plump ones and beaming. “We are most honored at the approaching union of
our two families! Let me present my wife, Apolline.”
Madame Delacour glided forward and stooped to kiss Mrs. Weasley too.
“Enchantée,” she said. “Your ‘usband ‘as been telling us such amusing stories!”
Mr. Weasley gave a maniacal laugh; Mrs. Weasley threw him a look, upon which
he became immediately silent and assumed an expression appropriate to the sickbed of a
close friend.
“And, of course, you ‘ave met my leetle daughter, Gabrielle!” said Monsieur
Delacour. Gabrielle was Fleur in miniature; eleven years old, with waist-length hair of
pure, silvery blonde, she gave Mrs. Weasley a dazzling smile and hugged her, then threw
Harry a glowing look, batting her eyelashes. Ginny cleared her throat loudly.
“Well, come in, do!” said Mrs. Weasley brightly, and she ushered the Delacours
into the house, with many “No, please!”s and “After you!”s and “Not at all!”s.
The Delacours, it soon transpired, were helpful, pleasant guests. They were
pleased with everything and keen to assist with the preparations for the wedding.
Monsieur Delacour pronounced everything from the seating plan to the bridesmaids’
shoes “Charmant!” Madame Delacour was most accomplished at household spells and
had the oven properly cleaned in a trice; Gabrielle followed her elder sister around, trying
to assist in any way she could and jabbering away in rapid French.
On the downside, the Burrow was not built to accommodate so many people. Mr.
and Mrs. Weasley were now sleeping in the sitting room, having shouted down Monsieur
and Madame Delacour’s protests and insisted they take their bedroom. Gabrielle was
sleeping with Fleur in Percy’s old room, and Bill would be sharing with Charlie, his best
man, once Charlie arrived from Romania. Opportunities to make plans together became
virtually nonexistent, and it was in desperation that Harry, Ron and Hermione took to
volunteering to feed the chickens just to escape the overcrowded house.
“But she still won’t leave us alone!” snarled Ron, and their second attempt at a
meeting in the yard was foiled by the appearance of Mrs. Weasley carrying a large basket
of laundry in her arms.
“Oh, good, you’ve fed the chickens,” she called as she approached them. “We’d
better shut them away again before the men arrive tomorrow . . . to put up the tent for the
wedding,” she explained, pausing to lean against the henhouse. She looked exhausted.
“Millamant’s Magic Marquees . . . they’re very good. Bill’s escorting them. . . . You’d
better stay inside while they’re here, Harry. I must say it does complicate organizing a
wedding, having all these security spells around the place.”
“I’m sorry,” said Harry humbly.
“Oh, don’t be silly, dear!” said Mrs. Weasley at once. “I didn’t mean – well, your
safety’s much more important! Actually, I’ve been wanting to ask you how you want to
celebrate your birthday, Harry. Seventeen, after all, it’s an important day. . . .”
“I don’t want a fuss,” said Harry quickly, envisaging the additional strain this
would put on them all. “Really, Mrs. Weasley, just a normal dinner would be fine. . . . It’s
the day before the wedding. . . .”
“Oh, well, if you’re sure, dear. I’ll invite Remus and Tonks, shall I? And how
about Hagrid?”
“That’d be great,” said Harry. “But please, don’t go to loads of trouble.”
“Not at all, not at all . . . It’s no trouble. . . .”
She looked at him, a long, searching look, then smiled a little sadly, straightened
up, and walked away. Harry watched as she waved her wand near the washing line, and
the damp clothes rose into the air to hang themselves up, and suddenly he felt a great
wave of remorse for the inconvenience and the pain he was giving her.
接下来的几天，失去疯眼汉的打击笼罩着整栋房子，哈利仍旧希望看见他的身影笨重地穿过后门，像其他凤凰社的成员一样，进进出出，传递着消息。哈利感到，除了战斗，没有任何事能减轻他的内疚感和悲痛，所以他应该尽早出发去完成找寻和破坏魂器的使命。
“但是，关于那个……”罗恩作出“魂器”的嘴型 ，“你什么都不能做。直到你十七岁，你还拥有那种保护魔法，而且我们可以在这儿计划好，像在别的地方一样，不是吗？或者，”他降低声音，耳语道：“你觉得自己已经知道神秘人在哪儿了？”
“不知道，”哈利说。
“我想赫敏已经做了一些调查”罗恩说，“她说她在为你的到来做准备。”
他们坐在餐桌前，韦斯莱先生和比尔刚刚离开家上班去了，韦斯莱夫人上楼去叫醒赫敏和金妮，芙蓉也飘进舆洗室洗澡去了。
“这种保护魔法将在31日打破”哈利说，“那意味着我只需要在这儿呆四天，然后我就能——”
“五天。”罗恩坚决地打断他，“我们要留在这儿参加婚礼，如果错过了，他们会杀了我们的。”
哈利明白“他们”是指芙蓉和韦斯莱夫人。
“这是特别的一天，”哈利正有所抗议，罗恩说道。
“他们难道不知道那件事有多重要？”
“就是因为他们不知道，”罗恩说，“他们一点线索都没有，既然现在你提到它，我想和你好好谈谈。”
罗恩匆匆地瞥了一眼通向大厅的门，看到韦斯莱夫人仍然没有回来，然后，向哈利靠近一些，
“妈妈试图想从我和赫敏那儿了解我们要离开做什么，下一个就是你了，所以你要挺住。爸爸和卢平都问过我们，但是当我们说邓布利多告诉你除了我们之外不能告诉别的任何人，他们就放弃了，可妈妈就不，尽管这样，她还是很坚决。”
罗恩的预测在几小时后应验了，午餐前不久，韦斯莱夫人把哈利从其他人身边叫出来认领一只袜子，她认为那是从他的帆布背包里掉出来的，当她把哈利带到厨房的小小的碗碟储藏室，“罗恩和赫敏似乎认为你们三个要退出霍格沃茨了，”她貌似漫不经心的轻声说。
“哦……嗯，” 哈利说，“是的。”
熨衣机在一个角落和谐地转着，扭出一件像是韦斯莱先生的背心的东西。
“我可以问为什么你们要放弃学业吗？”韦斯莱夫人问。
“哦，邓布利多留给了我……一些事去做，”哈利咕哝着，“罗恩和赫敏知道，他们也想去。”
“哪种事？”
“对不起，我不能——”
“好，坦诚地说，我认为亚瑟和我有权利知道，我确信格兰杰先生和夫人也会同意！”韦斯莱夫人说，哈利很害怕“关心你们的父母”这样的话语，他强迫自己直接看着她的眼睛，当他这样做的时候注意到她的褐色的眼睛与金妮的简直一模一样。他失败了。
“邓布利多不想其他人知道，韦斯莱夫人，对不起，罗恩和赫敏不是一定要来，那是他们的选择——”
“我没看出你也必须去！”她厉声说，现在扔下所有借口，“你几乎还没成年，你所说的一切，全是扯淡，如果邓布利多有工作要做，他有整个凤凰社的人可以自由支配！哈利，你一定误会了他的意思，也许他只是告诉你一些他想完成的事，你却认为他想要你——”
“我没有误会，”哈利干巴巴地说，“哪是指我”
他递回那只袜子，上面绣着金色的芦苇图案
“那不是我的，我不支持普顿密尔队（魁地球队名）”
“哦，当然不是，”韦斯莱夫人疲惫的声音突然恢复到她那不经意的语调，“我应该意识到的，那么，哈利，既然我们仍然留你在这儿，你不介意帮忙准备比尔和芙蓉的婚礼，对吗？还有那么多的事情要做。”
“不—我—当然不介意，”哈利说，被这突然改变的话题弄得不知所措。
“你真好，”她回答，微笑着离开了碗碟储藏室。
从那一刻起，韦斯莱夫人让哈利，罗恩和赫赫忙个不停地准备婚礼，他们几乎没有任何时间去思考，这种行为的最好的解释是韦斯莱夫人想把他们的注意力从对疯眼汉的思念和他们最近的可怕的旅行中转移过来，两天不断地做着餐具清洗，各种颜色调配，缎带和花，除花园的地精，帮韦斯莱夫人烤了很多的夹子鱼烤面包，然而，哈利开始怀疑她有不同的动机，所有这些好分派的工作看起来好象是让他，罗恩和赫敏彼此分隔，从第一晚，当他告诉他们伏地魔拷问奥利凡德后，他根本没有机会单独地与他们两个说话，
“我想妈妈认为如果她能阻止你们三个聚到一起计划，她就能够拖延你离开的时间。”他到来后的第三个晚上，当他们在搁放晚餐桌时，金妮低声地对哈利说。
“那么她想过会发生什么吗？”哈利咕哝着说，“当她把我们留在这儿做肉馅饼的时候，别的什么人也许会消灭伏地魔？”他想也没想地说，盯着金妮变白的脸。
“那么那是真的？”她说，“那就是你打算去做的？”
“我—不——我只是开玩笑，”哈利推脱着。
他们彼此盯着，有一些比震惊更多的东西在金妮的表情里，哈利突然意识到自从那些在霍格沃茨隐蔽的角落失去的美好时光后，他和她是第一次单独一起。他确信她也记得。当门打开的时候，他们两个都跳了起来，韦斯莱夫人，金斯莱和比尔走了进来。
他们经常与别的凤凰社成员一起晚餐，因为陋居已经代替了格里莫广场12号作为凤凰社的总部，韦斯莱先生解释说，邓布利多——他们的保密人死后，每一个已被邓布利多告知格里莫广场位置的人都自动成为了保密人。
“而且由于在我们之中大约有二十个，这大大地削弱了赤胆忠心咒的力量。食死徒有二十多次的机会从某人处获得这个秘密，我们不能期望它能够坚持很久。”
“但是，斯内普肯定现在已经告诉了食死徒这地址了吧？”哈利问。
“呃，疯眼汉施了几个咒语来抑制斯内普再一次找到那个地方，我们希望它们的力量足够强大的，既能将斯内普排除在外，如果他想说出这个地方，也能够约束他的舌头，但是我们不能肯定，所以在它的保护变得如此弱的情况下，继续使用这个地方作总部是很愚蠢的，”
傍晚，厨房是太拥挤了，使用自动刀叉非常困难，哈利发现自己挤在金妮旁边，他们之间传递着不需要用言辞来表达的事，那让他希望他们中间能间隔着几个人，他正尽力避免扫着她的胳膊，所以他几乎不能切他的鸡肉。
“没有关于疯眼汉的消息吗？”哈利问比尔，
“什么也没有，”比尔回答道。
他们还没有为穆迪举行葬礼，因为比尔和卢平还未能找到他的尸体，在黑暗和混乱的战斗中找到他可能掉下的地方很困难。
“关于他的死或是找寻他的尸体，预言家日报一个字也没提，”比尔继续说，“但是，那不是意味着什么，他们这些天一直非常安静。”
“而且他们还没有因为我用来对付食死徒的那些魔法传证一个关于未成年人使用魔法的听讼”哈利对他桌子对面的韦斯莱先生说，韦斯莱先生摇摇头。
“因为他们知道我没有选择或者因为他们不乐意告诉魔法界伏地魔攻击了我？”
“最近，我猜，斯克林杰不想承认神秘人已经像过去那样强大，也不想承认阿兹卡班爆发了一个大规模的越狱。”
“是啊，为什么要告诉公众真相呢？”哈利说，紧抓着他的刀，他右手背上模糊的白色的伤疤显现出来：我不可以说谎。
“难道在魔法部里没一个人准备勇敢地抵抗他吗？”罗恩愤怒地问。
“当然不，罗恩，但是人们害怕了，”韦斯莱先生回答，“害怕他们将会是下一个消失者，他们的孩子会是下一个受攻击者！有令人厌恶的谣言在到处流传，我是不相信，在霍格沃茨辞职的那个麻瓜研究教授，她已经失踪几周了，其间，斯克林杰整天关上他的办公室，我只希望他正在制定一个计划。”
当韦斯莱夫人使魔法把空的盘子弄到工作台上，开始端上苹果馅饼,大家都不说话了。
“我们必须决定怎样保护你，阿利”，芙蓉说，大家正吃着布丁，“为了这个婚礼，”他困惑地看着她，她补充道，“当然，我们的客人中没人是食死徒，但是我们不能保证在他们喝了香槟酒之后不会无意中说出一些事。”
从这一点。哈利推断她仍然怀疑海格。
“是的，好提议”，韦斯莱夫人从她坐着的桌子顶部说，眼镜挂在她的鼻梁上，同时浏览着已潦草地写在一张长长的羊皮纸上的繁杂工作。“现在，罗恩，你已经打扫干净你房间了吗？”
“为什么？”罗恩大声叫起来，他的勺子坠到地上，怒视着他的母亲，“为什么我的房间就必须要打扫？哈利和我喜欢它现在的样子！”
“我们要在几天的时间内举行你哥哥的婚礼，小伙子——”
“那他们要在我的房间里举行婚礼吗？”罗恩狂暴地问，“不是的！那凭什么听这灰背隼的松弛的_____”
“不要对你妈妈那样说，”韦斯莱先生坚决地说，“照她说的做。”
罗恩怒视着他的父母，然后捡起他的勺子，咽下最后几口苹果饼。
“我可以帮忙，这儿有些是我的东西”，哈利告诉罗恩，但是韦斯莱夫人打断了他，“不，哈利，亲爱的，我希望你帮亚瑟弄这些鸡，赫敏，如果你去换换德拉库尔夫妇的床单我会非常感谢的。你知道他们要在明天上午十一点到这儿。”
但是一切表明，开始弄这些鸡的时候，只有很少的事情做，“这没必要向..呃..莫莉说起，”韦斯莱先生对哈利说，他正在把他的那只鸡赶进鸡舍，“但是，嗯，泰德.唐克斯送了我小天狼星摩托车的大部分零件,而且,嗯，我正保留着呢，就是说，把它藏在这儿，真是神奇的东西，有一个排气装置，就像我相信它说的，最华丽的电池，这是一个伟大的机会来研究刹车是怎样工作的。我将再次将它们都组装在一起，当莫莉不——我意思是说，当我有时间的时候。 ”
当他们走回房子时,韦斯莱夫人不见了踪影,于是哈利飞速跑向罗恩的阁楼卧室
“我正在做，我正在做——！啊，是你，” 罗恩腾地跳起来夸张地说,当哈利进入房间时他正躺在床上，房间还是象以前一样的乱。唯一的不同是赫敏现在正坐在远处一个角落里分拣两大堆书,其中一些,哈利认出来是自己的，她那毛绒绒的姜黄色的猫，克鲁克山在她的脚边。
“嗨，哈利”当他坐在他的行军床上时，她说道。
“你是怎么逃脱的？”
“哦，罗恩的妈妈忘记了她昨天已经叫金妮和我去整理床单了。”赫敏说，她丢了一本”格兰玛狄卡和数字占卜”在一堆书上，一本”黑魔法的兴起与衰落”在另一堆。
“我们正在说疯眼汉，”罗恩告诉哈利，我猜他可能还活着。 ”
“但是比尔看见他被夺命咒击中了。”哈利说。
“是的，可比尔也处在被攻击中，”罗恩说，“他怎么能确认他看见的？”
“即使夺命咒没打中他，疯眼汉仍然是从一千英尺高掉了下去，”赫敏说，现在拿着一本厚重的”英格兰和爱尔兰魁地奇队”在她的手里。
“也许他用了一个保护咒——”
“芙蓉说他的魔杖从手中击飞了 ”哈利说。
“唔，好吧，如果你想要他死，”罗恩暴躁地说，把他的枕头拍成一个更舒服的形状。
“我们当然不想他死！”赫敏说，震惊地看着他，“他的死是很可怕的！但是我们也要面对现实！”
第一次，哈利想象疯眼汉的身体，像邓布利多的一样断折掉下来，一只眼睛仍然在眼窝里飕飕响着，他感到一阵抽痛伴随着一阵奇异的想笑的愿望。
“食死徒可能后来自己收拾了，这就是为什么没有人发现他，”罗恩韦斯莱说。
“是的”哈利说，“象巴蒂.克劳奇一样，变成了骨头，被埋葬在海格的前花园，他们可能把穆迪变形然后把他埋到——”
“别再说了！”赫敏震惊地尖叫，哈利望过去，正好看到她眼里迸出了眼泪，掉在她抄写的符咒字母表上。
“哦,不”，哈利说，挣扎着从行军床上爬起来，“赫敏，我不是想让你不安——”
但是，随着一阵的生锈的弹簧床的吱吱声，罗恩跳离床，走道赫敏那，一个胳膊抱住她，他在他的牛仔裤包里摸索，然后，塞回一块看起来令人厌恶的他过去常用来清扫以前的烤箱的手帕，慌忙地拔出他的魔杖，他用魔杖指着抹布，“焕然一新”.魔杖吸走了抹布上的多数油脂，他看起来很满意，罗恩把有些冒烟的手帕递给赫敏。
“哦，谢谢，罗恩……对不起……”她吸了吸鼻子，抽泣着，“那真是是太可—怕了，不是吗？”正发生在邓布利多—之后……，我从..从来不敢想像疯眼汉会死，不知何故，他看起来那么的坚强！ ”
“是啊,我知道.”罗恩说,并向她挤了挤.”但如果他在这儿,你知道他会说什么吗?”
“时..时刻保持警惕,”赫敏抹了把眼泪.
“的确，”罗恩点头说，“他已经告诉我们要向他的遭遇中学习，我学到的是不要相信胆小鬼，蒙顿格斯”
赫敏虚弱地笑了笑，探身再捡起两本书，一秒钟后，罗恩伸出他的胳膊绕着她的肩，”妖怪们的妖怪书”掉到了他的脚上，从拴的带子处解放了出来，它恶毒地咬着罗恩的脚踝。
“对不起，对不起！”赫敏话里带着哭腔，哈利把书从罗恩的脚上使劲扭下来，重新把它捆住。
“你要这些书做什么？”罗恩问，一跛一跛地回到他的床边，
“只是想看看我们需要带哪些书”赫敏说，“当我们找魂器的时候。”
“哦，当然，”罗恩说，一只手轻轻的拍在前额上，“我忘记了我们要开始在流动图书馆中跟踪追击伏地魔。”
“哈哈，”赫敏说，盯着下面的魔法字音表，“我想知道……，我们会不会需要翻译古魔文？ 那是可能的……我想我们最好带上它，为了安全起见。”
她把字音表丢进两堆书中较大的一堆中，捡起《霍格沃茨，一段校史》。
“听着，”哈利说。他直直地站起来，罗恩和赫敏看着他，眼光里混合着顺从和挑战。
“我知道你在邓布利多的葬礼后说过想要同我一起战斗，”哈利开始说。
“他要行动了。”罗恩转动着他的眼睛对赫敏说。
“就像我们知道的那样他会的，”他叹息，走回到书堆旁，“你知道，我想我将带《霍格沃茨，一段校史》，即使我们不回到那儿，如果我们不带它的话我不认为我会觉得合适——”
“听着！”哈利再一次说。
“不，哈利，你听着，”赫敏说，“我们要与你一起，那是几月前就决定了的，或是几年前，真的。”
“但是——”
“闭嘴，”罗恩警告他。
“——你们确信你们彻底地考虑好了吗？”哈利坚持问。
“看吧，”赫敏说，砰的一声把《与山怪同游》丢进废弃的那一堆书中，一脸的暴躁的表情。“我已经收拾了几天了，因此我们已经准备好迅速离开，供参考的信息已经包括了非常困难的魔法，不要提出在罗恩妈妈的鼻子底下偷带走疯眼汉的全部的复方药剂
“我也修改了我父母的记忆，因此他们确信他们真的叫温德尔和莫尼卡威尔金斯，他们的生活愿望是移居到澳大利亚，他们现在已经去了，那会让伏地魔难追捕到他们，向他们审问我的行踪——或者你的，因为很不幸地，我曾经告诉过他们关于你的一些事情。”
“假如我在我们搜寻魂器的行动中幸存，我将找到爸爸妈妈并撤消魔法。如果我不——好，我想我已经施了一个足够好的魔法让他们安全和幸福，温德尔 和 莫尼卡 威尔金斯不知道他们有一个女儿，你知道，”
赫敏的眼睛里泪珠又开始在闪动，罗恩又从床边回到她身边，再一次抱住了她，对哈利皱着眉，好象责备他不够机敏，哈利想不到要什么说，不仅仅因为对罗恩来说教别人机敏是别扭的。
“我——赫敏，我很抱歉—— 我不——”
“难道没有发觉我和罗恩非常清楚地知道如果我们和你一起可能会发生什么吗？我们知道，真的，罗恩，给哈利看看你做了什么。”
“不，他刚刚才吃过饭，”罗恩说。
“快点，他需要知道！”
“哦，好吧，哈利，这儿来。”
罗恩第二次从赫敏肩上抽回他的胳膊，笨重的走向门边。
“来吧。”
“是什么？”哈利问，跟着罗恩走出房间，来到一个很小的楼梯平台。
“速速显形”罗恩咕哝着，他的魔杖指着低低的天花板，他们的正上方，打开了一个洞口，同时一架梯子滑到他们脚边。一个可怕的、半吮吸半呻吟的声音从方形的洞口传来，伴随着一阵令人恶心的像打开的臭水沟的气味。
“那是你的食尸鬼，是不是？”哈利问，他确实从来没有碰到过这种不时打断夜间寂静的生物。
“没错，就是它，”罗恩说，一边爬上楼梯，“来看看。”
哈利跟着罗恩爬上短短的楼梯进入这个小小的阁楼。他的头和肩膀才伸进阁楼，就瞥见这个东西蜷缩在离他几英尺远的地方，它的嘴大张着睡在幽暗中。
“但是它……它看起来……食尸鬼一般都穿着睡衣吗？”
“不，”罗恩说，“他们通常也没有红色的头发和大量的脓疱。”
哈利越想这件事越有点恶心，它有和人类一样的体形和高度，现在哈利的眼睛适应了黑暗，他清楚地看见它穿着罗恩的一条旧睡衣，他确信食尸鬼一般都是相当粘糊糊并秃顶的，并不是象这样有很清楚的头发和全身长满水胞，颜色象因为生气而胀紫了的脸。
“那是我，像不像？”罗恩说。
“不，”哈利说，“我认为不像。”
“回到我的房间我再解释这件事，这气味让我受不了。”罗恩说。他们爬下楼梯，罗恩让天花板恢复原状，重新走到仍在整理书的赫敏的身旁。
“一旦我们离开，这个食尸鬼就会下来住到我的房间，”罗恩说，“我认为他真的渴望那一天——好，很难说，因为他所能做的一切只是呻吟和流口水——但当你提起这件事时它就一个劲地点头，无论如何，他将带着死斑谷病成为我的替身，不错吧，嗯？”
哈利头脑中一片混乱。
“它很棒的！”罗恩说，对哈利没有领会到这个计划的完美而明显地失落着。“你想，当我们三个将不再出现在霍格沃茨，每个人都会认为赫敏和我一定是和你一起，是吗？ 那意味着食死徒将会直接去找我们的家人看他们是不是有一些关于你行踪的消息。”
“但是，希望那将看起来好象是我已经与爸爸妈妈一起离开了，大量麻瓜出身的巫师此刻都在谈论去躲起来。”赫敏说。
“我们不能将我的全家都藏起来，那看起来太蠢了，而且他们不能都丢下工作不管。”罗恩说，“因此我们要编个故事说我得了严重的死斑谷病，这就是为什么我不能回到学校的原因，如果有人来向我调查，妈妈或者爸爸就让他们看看我床上那满身脓疱的食尸鬼，死斑谷病真的会传染的，因此他们不会愿意靠近他，他不能说话也不会引起麻烦，因为，很明显，一旦病菌传播到你的舌头上，你就说不出了。”
“那你的妈妈和爸爸也参与了这个计划？”哈利问。
“爸爸是这样的，他帮弗雷德和乔治给食尸鬼变形，妈妈……，嗯，你已经看见了她的态度了，她不会同意的——直到我们离开。”
大家都沉默了，只有赫敏轻轻的分书声，罗恩坐在那儿望着她，哈利看看这个又看看那个，什么也说不出，他们所采取的保护家人的措施使他认识到，不仅仅是其它能做的事，他们真的要与他一起，而且他们也确切地知道那将是多么的危险，他想告诉他们对他来说那意味着什么，但是他完全不能找到足够分量的话来表达自己的心情。
在寂静里韦斯莱夫人的大叫声从四楼传来。
“金妮可能弄了一个斑点在那发霉的餐巾环上，”罗恩说，“我不知道为什么德拉库尔夫妇一定要在婚礼两天前来。”
“芙蓉的妹妹是女傧相，她需要先来这儿排演，而且她太年轻了，不能自己来，”赫敏说，她犹豫不决地注视着《与女妖同游》。
“客人们可不能减轻妈妈的压力”，罗恩说。
“我们真正需要决定的是，”赫敏说，瞟也不瞟一眼就把“黑魔法防御理论”丢进箱子里，然后捡起“欧洲魔法教育评估”,“我们离开这儿会要去哪里？我知道你说你想要先去高锥克山谷，哈利，我明白为什么，但是……嗯……我们不应该先去找寻魂器吗？”
“如果我们知道任何一个魂器在哪，我就赞同你，”哈利说，他不相信赫敏真正明白他想要回到高锥克山谷的愿望，他的父母的坟墓只是吸引他想去那儿的一个原因，他有一个非常强烈的，尽管无法形容的感觉，这个地方有他想要的答案，也许只是因为在那儿，他在伏地魔的死咒里幸存了下来，既然他正面临着重复壮举的挑战，这个发生了壮举的地方吸引着哈利，让他想要去弄明白。
“你不认为伏地魔有可能监视着高锥克山谷吗？”赫敏问，“他也许期待着，一旦你能够自由的行动，你会回去看望你父母的坟墓？”
哈利并没有想到这点，当他尽力地辩争时，罗恩大声地说，显然只跟着他自己的思路。“R.A.B这个人，”他说，“你知道的，就是那个偷了真正的挂坠盒的那个吗？”
赫敏点点头。
“在他的字条里他说他将要毁灭它，不是吗？”
哈利拉过他的帆布背包，摸出那个假的魂器，R.A.B的字条仍然拆叠着放在那。
“我已经拿走了真的魂器，只要我能，就会马上摧毁它。”哈利读着。
“好，如果他真的干完了会怎样？”罗恩说。
“或是她，”赫敏提出。
“无论哪一个，”罗恩说，“对我们来说都少了要摧毁的一个！”
“是的，但是我们仍然不得不尽力去找那个真正的挂坠盒，不是吗？”赫敏说，“无论它是不是被摧毁我们都得把它找出来。”
“一旦我们找到它，我们怎么来摧毁一个魂器呢？”罗恩问。
“呃。”赫敏说，“我在查找相关资料。”
“怎么做呢？”哈利说，“我不认为在图书馆的书里有关于魂器的资料？”
“没有，”赫敏说，脸红了，“邓布利多把它们全移走了，但是他——他没有毁了他们”。罗恩挺直了腰，瞪大着眼睛。
“在号称为‘梅林的裤子’的你怎么设法偷到关于魂器的书？”
“那——那不是偷！”赫敏说，带着几分失望的神色，看看哈利又看看罗恩，“它们仍然是图书馆的书，即使邓布利多把它们从架子上拿走，不管如何，如果他真的不想任何人弄到他们，我确信他一定会把它们藏得更难找——”
“说到关键了！”罗恩说。
“呃……很容易，”赫敏小声说，“我施了一个召唤咒，你知道——飞来咒，它们就缩小了，从邓布利多的书房飞到了女生宿舍。”
“但是你是什么时候做的？”哈利问，既钦佩又怀疑地看着赫敏。
“是他——邓布利多——葬礼后”赫敏小声说，“正好是我们同意我们要离开学校去找寻魂器的时候，当我回到楼上收拾我的东西——那使我想起关于魂器的事我们知道得越多，会更好……我独自呆在那儿……然后试了试……咒语起作用了，他们从打开的窗里径直飞了进来，然后我——我把它们捆了起来。”
她咽了咽口水，然后恳求说：“我不相信邓布利多会生气，而且不像是我们会利用这些信息来制造魂器，不是吗？”
“你听到我们在抱怨吗？”罗恩说，“总之，这些书在哪里？”
赫敏到处翻了一会儿，然后从书堆里抽出一个大的用黑色的褪色的皮革装订的书卷，她带着一点厌恶的表情看着它，拿着它，好象它是刚死的什么东西。
“这书非常清楚地指导怎样制造一个魂器。《黑魔法的秘密》——很可怕的书，真的可怕，全是邪恶的魔法，我想知道邓布利多是什么时候把它从图书馆拿走的……如果是在他当校长之后，我敢打赌伏地魔从这儿得到了所有他需要的指导。”
“那么，为什么他还要问斯拉格霍恩怎么制造魂器？如果他已经读了这书？”罗恩问。
“他接近斯拉格霍恩仅仅是想弄清楚如果把灵魂分成七片会怎么样。”哈利说，“邓布利多确信，里德尔问斯拉格霍恩的时候他已经知道怎么制造魂器，我想你是对的，赫敏，他能够很容易地从那儿获得这些信息。”
“我读得越多，”赫敏说，“他们看起来越可怕，至少我相信他确切地制造了六个，在这书里警告说撕裂灵魂会使其余的灵魂不稳定，而那就是通过制造一个魂器！”
哈利记得邓布利多说过伏地魔已经远远超出了“通常的邪恶。”
“难道没有什么方法把它们恢复原状？”罗恩问。
“有，”赫敏空洞地笑了笑说，“但是它将是极度的痛苦的。”
“有？那怎么做？”哈利问。
“自责，”赫敏说，“你已经为你所做的真正地觉得自责，显然地，这种痛苦能毁灭你，不知何故，我可没发现伏地魔先要这么做，你们呢？”
“没有，”罗恩在哈利回答前说，“那么，书里说了怎样破坏魂器吗？”
“是的，”赫敏说，现在她翻开这些易脆的书页，好象在检查腐烂的内脏，“因为它警告黑巫师，他们不得不施非常强有力的魔法，从所有我读到的这些来看，哈利对里德尔的日记所做的是几个十分简单的摧毁魂器的方法之一。”
“什么，用蛇怪的尖牙刺穿它？”哈利问。
“哦，好吧，很幸运，那么我们已经有大量的蛇怪的尖牙了，”罗恩说，“我想知道我们要怎么对付它们。”
“不是说一定要蛇怪的尖牙。”赫敏耐心地说，“只要是有足够破坏性，让魂器不能自我修复的东西，蛇怪的毒液只有一个解毒的方法，它是不可思议的珍贵——”
“——凤凰的眼泪，”哈利说，点着头。
“非常正确。”赫敏说，“我们的问题是只有很少的东西才具有与蛇怪的尖牙一样的破坏性，随身携带他们是非常危险的，尽管如此，这是我们不得不解决的一个麻烦，因为撕裂，粉碎，或压碎一个魂器将不会成功，你必须让它不能用魔法自我修复。”
“但是，即使我们破坏了它寄存的东西，”罗恩说，“为什么它里面的灵魂不会只是飘出来再寄存到别的东西里？”
“因为魂器是完全与人类相反的东西”
看到哈利和罗恩十分困惑地看着，赫敏继续说，“看，如果我现在拿起一把剑，罗恩，你让它穿过你，我就全然不会破坏你的灵魂。”
“那对我来说是非常舒服的，我确信。”罗恩说，哈利大笑。
“那是，当然！但是我说的重点是无论对你的身体做什么，你的灵魂都会幸存，没能触及，”赫敏说，“但是它是对魂器来说是不同的方式，它里面的灵魂碎片依赖于它的容器，它的施过魔法的身体，来逃避灾难，没有容器它就不能存在。”
“当我刺穿日记本的时候它似乎死了，”哈利说，想起墨水象血一样从穿孔的书页中流出来，当它消失时伏地魔的那片灵魂的尖叫着。
“一旦日记被完全的破坏，这片保存在它里面的灵魂就不再存在了。在你破坏它之前，金妮尽力地摆脱这本日记，把它从水管里冲走，但是，明显地，它回来后还是象新的一样。”
“等等，”罗恩皱着眉说，“这片在日记中的灵魂支配着金妮，是吗？那它是怎样做的呢？”
“当这个魔法容器仍然完好无缺，它里面的这片灵魂就能飞进或飞出靠近容器的那人的身体。我不是说它长久地支配，只是碰它，它什么也不能做。”她在罗恩开口说话之前补充说，“我的意思是说，在情感上接近，金妮向日记本倾诉她的心事，她使自己非常容易受到攻击，如果你太喜欢或是太依靠魂器你就麻烦了。”
“我想知道邓布利多是怎样破坏戒指的？”哈利说，“为什么我没有问他？我真的从来没有……”
他的声音渐渐小了下去：他正在想那些所有他应该问邓布利多的事，但是邓布利多已经死了，当邓布利多活着的时候，哈利似乎浪费了太多的机会，去查明更多的真相……去查明每件事的真相……。
随着门墙轰隆一声响，卧室的门飞开了，打破了大家的沉默，赫敏尖叫着丢开了《黑魔法的秘密》。克鲁克山在床下飞跑出来。愤怒地发出嘶嘶声，罗恩跳离床，刹在一张青蛙巧克力包装纸上，他的头碰在对面的墙上，在哈利意识到自己正抬头看着韦斯莱夫人前，本能地冲向他的魔杖，韦斯莱夫人的头发凌乱，整张脸愤怒地扭曲着。
“对不起，破坏了你们舒适的小聚，”她说，她的声音发抖，“我想你们都需要休息了……但是有很多婚礼的礼物堆在我的房间需要挑选出，我记得你已经同意帮我的。”
“哦，是的，”赫敏说，看起来象受到了惊吓，她双脚跳起来，踢得这些书四面八方飞出去，“我们愿意……我们很抱歉……”
赫敏痛苦地看着哈利和罗恩，跟在韦斯莱夫人后面匆匆地离开了房间。
“像家养小精灵一样，”罗恩小声的抱怨，当他和哈利跟在后来走出房间，他仍在揉着他的头。“我讨厌这些工作，婚礼就结束得越早，我越高兴。”
“是啊，”哈利说，“然后我们除了找魂器之外什么都不用做了……那将会像一个假期，不是吗？”
罗恩开始笑，但是瞥见一大堆婚礼礼物在韦斯莱夫的房间里等着他们，笑声骤然停止了。
. 德拉库尔一家在第二天早上十一点到达了，哈利，罗恩，赫敏和金妮对芙蓉一家在这时到来感到很愤慨，罗恩毫不绅士地跑回到楼上，去穿与衣服相配的袜子，哈利努力地抚平他的头发，当他们都弄得看起来很聪明干净的样子后，他们全都集合在阳光充足的后院等着来宾。
哈利从来没有发现这个地方看起来如此整洁，通常从后门乱丢在楼梯口的生锈的大锅炉和旧的威灵顿皮靴现在已经不见了。取而代之的是两个新的随风摇摆的矮树丛，立在门的两边的大大的罐里。虽然没有微风，叶子懒洋洋地摇动着，形成一个好看的波浪状，厨房的门已经关上了。院子也打扫干净了，邻近的花园也修剪整齐了，虽然哈利更喜欢它簇叶丛生的样子，他想，没有平时随时跳出来的地精它看起来好象被遗弃了的样子。
他已经失去了很多魔法的安全保护，那是凤凰社和魔法部设置在陋居的。他所知道的是对任何人来说不再可能通过魔法径直移到一个地方，因此韦斯莱先生已经前往附近的一个山顶去迎接德拉库尔一家了，他们将通过门钥匙到那儿，他们到达的第一个声音是一不寻常的尖锐的大笑声，那是韦斯莱先生的笑声，片刻后他出现在大门口，带着满满的行李，领着一个美丽的金发女人，她穿着长长的叶绿色的长袍，她是芙蓉的母亲。
“妈妈！”芙蓉哭叫着，冲进她的怀里“爸爸！”
德拉库尔先生远没有他妻子那样有魅力，他比她矮了一个头，有一小撮尖尖的黑色的胡须，他看起来脾气很好的样子，跳跃着走向穿着高跟鞋的韦斯莱夫人，在她的每边脸颊上各吻了两次，让她很是慌张。
“给你们添麻烦了，”他说，声音很低沉，“芙蓉告诉我们你做了很多事。”
“哦，没什么，没什么！”韦斯莱夫人说，声音颤抖着。“完全不麻烦！”
罗恩一脚踢在一个从后面随风摇摆着的矮树丛中探头窥望的地精身上，来发泄他的感情。
“亲爱的女士，”德拉库尔先生说，他的一只胖胖的手仍然拉着韦斯莱夫人的手，喜气洋洋地说，“对我们两个家庭的结合，我感到很荣耀！让我来介绍我的妻子，阿波罗”
德拉库尔夫人向前滑行几步，然后也停下来吻韦斯莱夫人。
“很荣幸见到你”她说，“你的丈夫已经告诉我们非常有趣的故事！”
韦斯莱先生放声大笑起来，韦斯莱夫人看了他一眼，他立即变得沉默了，装出一幅好象在看望生病在床的好朋友的表情来。
“当然了，你们已经见过了我的小女儿，加布丽，”德拉库尔先生说，加布丽象是芙蓉的缩小版，十一岁，有着齐腰长的纯色头发和闪着银光的碧眼，她对韦斯莱夫人灿烂地笑了笑，拥抱了她一下。然后，炽热地看了哈利一眼，眼睫毛闪动着，金妮大声地清了清喉咙。
“那么，请进来吧！”韦斯莱夫人明快地说，在一片“不，你请！”“你先！”“一点儿也不”声中，她引领着德拉库尔一家进入房间。
不久，大家就发现德拉库尔一家是特别能使人开心，他们喜欢每件事，很热心地帮着准备婚礼，德拉库尔先生大声安排着每种事物，从座位安排到女傧相的鞋“魔法!”
德拉库尔夫人在使用家庭咒语方面是最熟练的，一刹那间就那烤炉清扫干净了，加布丽跟在她姐姐后面，尽力地以任何方式帮助她，她含糊不清地快速说着法语。
但另外一方面，陋居的建造不是很适合很多人居住，韦斯莱先生和夫人现在睡在起居室里，德拉库尔先生和夫人喊叫着抗议，坚持不睡他们的卧室。加布丽和芙蓉一起睡在珀西的旧房间里，等比尔的伴郎查理从罗马尼亚回来后，他们两人睡一个房间。聚在一起商量计划的机会几乎成为不可能，那使哈利，罗恩和赫敏非常绝望，他们自愿要求喂小鸡，只是为了逃避开那过度拥挤的房间。
“但是她仍然不要我们单独呆在一起！”罗恩吼叫，他们的第二次试图在院子里聚会被韦斯莱夫人的出现阻止，她的胳膊上挎着一大篮要洗的衣服。
“哦，太好了，你们已经喂完小鸡了，”当她走近他们时就叫了起来，“我们最好在明天有人到达之前把小鸡关起来……为了支起婚礼用的帐篷，”她解释，暂停下来斜靠在鸡舍边，她看起来筋疲力尽，“米尔拉蒙的魔法大帐篷……他们非常好，比尔正护送他们来……当他们到的时候你们最好呆在里面，哈利，我必须说周围这些所有的安全魔咒让婚礼变得更复杂了。”
“对不起，”哈利谦恭地说。
“哦，不要内疚，亲爱的！”韦斯莱夫人马上说，“我不是说——当然，你的安全是更重要的！确切地说，我应该问你想要怎样庆祝你的生日，哈利，十七岁，毕竟，那是重要的一天……”
“我不想要大家为它忙乱”哈利很快说，想象着额外的紧张工作又要加在他们大家头上，“真的，韦斯莱夫人，只需要一个一般的晚餐就好……是婚礼前的那一天……”
“哦，好，如果你确信，亲爱的，我将邀请卢平和唐克斯，行吗？海格怎么样？”
“那很好，”哈利说，“但愿不会再添什么麻烦。”
“一点儿也不，一点儿也不……那不麻烦……”
她看着他，长时间地，探究地看着他，然后，带着点悲伤微笑地挺直腰走开了，哈利看着她在洗衣绳边挥舞着她的魔杖，湿湿的衣服自动地升上空中挂了起来，他忽然感到一阵强烈的自责在心底激荡，因为他带给她的这些麻烦和痛苦。
