时间：02-26 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：9324
Harry stared ai him.
Dear Harry, Ron and Hermione!
'I don't think she knows I exist,' said Ron with a desperate gesture.
"Wish that would happen with me and Lavender," said Ron gloomily, watching Hermione silently tapping each of his mis-spelled words with the end of her wand, so that they corrected themselves on the page. "But the more I hint I want to finish it, the tighter she holds on. It's like going out with the giant squid."
"Well, it's this giant spider, he's had it for years. ... It lived in the forest. ... It could talk and everything —"
Ron looked thoughtfully ai the box of Chocolate Cauldrons, then shrugged and helped himself to a third.
"— not the grave, surely?" said Ron with a snort. "The sewers, maybe." Myrtle gave a howl of rage and dived back into the toilet, caus-ing water to slop over the sides and onto the floor. Goading Myrtle seemed to have put fresh heart into Ron. "You're right," he said, swinging his schoolbag back over his shoulder, "I'll do the practice sessions in Hogsmeade before I de-cide about taking the test."
'I thought you just said -?'
"Yes, sir," said Harry quickly. "Voldemort killed his father and his grandparents and made it look as though his Uncle Morfin did it. Then he went back to Hogwarts and he asked ... he asked Professor Slughorn about Horcruxes," he mumbled shamefacedly.
"Cracked skull," said Madam Pomfrey, bustling up and pushing him back against his pillows. "Nothing to worry about, I mended it at once, but I'm keeping you in overnight. You shouldn't over exert yourself for a few hours."
Dumbledore considered Voldemort over the top of his own goblet for a while before speaking.
Harry and Slughorn watched him. For a moment, Ron beamed at them. Then, very slowly, his grin sagged and van-ished, to be replaced by an expression of utmost horror.
"Yes, of course," said Slughorn, his eyes now gleaming with en-thusiasm. "I tell you what, Harry, I'll meet you down there with a bottle or two. . . . We'll drink the poor beast's — well — not health — but we'll send it off in style, anyway, once it's buried. And I'll change my tie, this one is a little exuberant for the occa-sion. . . ."
"Would you call getting poisoned being interesting?" asked Harry. "Anyway — sorry, got to go — there's McLaggen coming for a talk about Quidditch," said Harry hurriedly, and he dashed sideways through a door pretending to be solid wall and sprinted down the shortcut that would take him off to Potions where, thankfully, neither Lavender nor McLaggen could follow him.
"You'd do better," said Hermione, when he confided this plan to Ron and her in the entrance hall, "to go straight to Slughorn's of-fice and try and get that memory from him."
It was evening; the hospital wing was quiet, the windows curtained, the lamps lit. Ron's was the only occupied bed. Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were sitting around him; they had spent all day waiting outside the double doors, trying to see inside whenever somebody went in or out. Madam Pomfrey had only let them enter at eight o'clock. Fred and George had arrived at ten past.