时间：02-27 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：8224
"There is a new password," she said. "And please don't shout."
"Don't pretend you didn't see him," said Hermione. "He wasn't exactly hiding it, was — ?"
"Good," said Harry fervently. "Because he'll just fall apart again, and we'll lose the next match —"
"Now , Severus," said Slughorn, hiccuping again, "it's Christ mas, do n't be too hard —"
"Hi," he said. "Shall we get going then?"
"It was the Fat Lady who drank a vat of five-hundred-year-old wine, Harry, not me. So what was this important news you wanted to tell me?"
"It looked big, and it had four legs," said Harry, struck by a sud-den thought and lowering his voice. "Hey ... it couldn't be — ?"
She hitched up the long roll of parchment on which she was writing her Arithma n cy essay and continued to scratch away with her quill. Harry wa t che d her with his mind a long way away.
They were getting near it now, Harry thought, the reason Scrim-geour was here.
Chapter 17: A sluggish memory
"They didn't have the potions with them in the bathroom," said Hermione scornfully, "They were just discussing tactics. As I doubt the Half-blood prince" she gave the book another scornful look "could dream up an antidote for a dozen different love potions at once, I'd just invite someone to go with you, that'll stop all the others thinking they've still got a chance. It's tomor r ow night, they're getting desperate."
Harry walked slowly back up the grounds toward the castle through the crowd, many of whom shouted congratulations at him, but he felt a great sense of letdown; he had been sure that if Ron won the match, he and Hermione would be friends again immediately. He did not see how he could possibly explain to Hermi-one that what she had done to offend Ron was kiss Viktor Krum, not when the offense had occurred so long ago.
"So they still don't know where you go?" asked Harry, hoping for more information on this intriguing subject, but Dumbledore merely smiled over the top of his half-moon spectacles.
"Oh, hello, Harry," she said in a brittle voice. "I was just practicing."
rousing chorus of the old favorite "Weasley Is Our King," he pre-tended to conduct them from on high.
But unbidden into his mind came an image of that same de-serted corridor with himself kissing Ginny instead. . . . The mon-ster in his chest purred . . . but then he saw Ron ripping open the tapestry curtain and drawing his wand on Harry, shouting things like "betrayal of trust" . . . "supposed to be my friend" . . .
"As he moved up the school, he gathered about him a group of dedicated friends; I call them that, for want of a better term, although as I have already indicated, Riddle undoubtedly felt no affection for any of them. This group had a kind of dark glamour within the castle. They were a motley collection; a mixture of the weak seeking protection, the ambitious seeking some shared glory, and the thuggish gravitating toward a leader who could show them more refined forms of cruelty. In other words, they were the forerunners of the Death Eaters, and indeed some of them became the first Death Eaters after leaving Hogwarts.;
"ENOUGH!" bellowed Harry, who had seen Ginny glowering in Ron’s direction and, remembering her reputation as an accom-plished caster of the Bat-Bogey Hex, soared over to intervene be-fore things got out of hand. "Peakes, go and pack up the Bludgers. Demelza, pull yourself together, you played really well today, Ron . . ." he waited until the rest of the team were out of earshot before saying it, "you're my best mate, but carry on treating the rest of them like this and I'm going to kick you off the team."。
It was a much younger Horace Slughorn. Harry was so used to him bald that he found the sight of Slughorn with thick, shiny, straw-colored hair quite disconcerting; it looked as though he had had his head thatched, though there was already a shiny Galleon-sized bald patch on his crown. His mustache, less massive than it was these days, was gingery-blond. He was not quite as rotund as the Slughorn Harry knew, though the golden buttons on his richly embroidered waistcoat were taking a fair amount of strain. His little feet resting upon a velvet pouffe, he was sitting well back in a comfortable winged armchair, one hand grasping a small glass of wine, the other searching through a box of crystalized pineapple.。