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哈利波特6: 混血王子 Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

作者：J.K.罗琳 (Joanne Kathleen Rowling) [英国]

哈利和邓布利多成功说服了斯拉格霍恩重返学校，担任魔药课教师，而西斯内普教授则如愿以偿，成为了黑魔法防御课老师。在第一节哈利还没发到书的魔药课上，斯拉格霍恩借给了哈利一本旧的魔药课课本。哈利发现，这本旧课本上面签着“混血王子”这个名字，此外这本书上还有很多笔记。而哈利靠着这些笔记取得了甚至比赫敏还要优秀的魔药课成绩。

第一章: 另一位部长

It was nearing midnight and the Prime Minister was sitting alone in his office, reading a long memo that was slipping through his brain without leaving the slightest trace of meaning behind. He was waiting for a call from the President of a far distant country, and between wondering when the wretched man would telephone, and trying to suppress unpleasant memories of what had been a very long, tiring, and difficult week, there was not much space in his head for anything else. The more he attempted to focus on the print on the page before him, the more clearly the Prime Minister could see the gloating face of one of his political opponents. This particular opponent had appeared on the news that very day, not only to enumerate all the terrible things that had happened in the last week (as though anyone needed reminding) but also to explain why each and every one of them was the government's fault.

差不多快到午夜了，首相独自坐在办公室里，读着一份长长的备忘录，但是他脑子里一片空白，根本不明白那上面写的是什么意思。他在等一个遥远国家的总统打来电话。他一方面怀疑那个倒霉的家伙到底会不会来电话，另一方面克制着对这一漫长而累人的一周的许多令人不快的回忆，所以脑子里便没有多少空间想别的事情了。他越是想集中精力阅读他面前的这张纸上的文字，越是清清楚楚地看见他的一个政敌幸灾乐祸的脸。这位政敌那天出现在新闻里，不仅一一列举了上个星期发生的所有可怕的事故（就好像有谁还需要提醒似的），而且还头头是道地分析了每一起事故都是由于政府的过失造成的。

The Prime Minister's pulse quickened at the very thought of these accusations, for they were neither fair nor true. How on earth was his government supposed to have stopped that bridge collapsing? It was outrageous for anybody to suggest that they were not spending enough on bridges. The bridge was fewer than ten years old, and the best experts were at a loss to explain why it had snapped cleanly in two, sending a dozen cars into the watery depths of the river below. And how dare anyone suggest that it was lack of policemen that had resulted in those two very nasty and well-publicized murders? Or that the government should have somehow foreseen the freak hurricane in the West Country that had caused so much damage to both people and property? And was it his fault that one of his Junior Ministers, Herbert Chorley, had chosen this week to act so peculiarly that he was now going to be spending a lot more time with his family?

首相一想到这些指责，脉搏就加快了跳动，因为它们很不公正，也不符合事实。他的政府怎么可能阻止那座桥倒塌呢？有人竟然提出政府在桥梁建筑方面投资不够，这真让人忍无可忍。那座桥建成还不到十年，最出色的专家也无法解释它怎么会突然整整齐齐地断成两截，十几辆汽车栽进了下面深深的河水里。另外，有人竟然提出是警方力量不足，才导致了那两起传得沸沸扬扬的恶性谋杀案的发生，还说政府应该预见到西部那场给人们的生命和财产造成巨大损失的古怪飓风。还有，他的一位助理部长赫伯特·乔莱偏偏在这个星期表现怪异，说是要跟家人多待一些时间，这难道也是他的过错吗？

"A grim mood has gripped the country," the opponent had concluded, barely concealing his own broad grin.

“全国上下一片恐慌。”那位反对派最后这么总结道，几乎毫不掩饰脸上得意的笑容。

And unfortunately, this was perfectly true. The Prime Minister felt it himself; people really did seem more miserable than usual. Even the weather was dismal; all this chilly mist in the middle of July… it wasn't right, it wasn't normal…

不幸的是，事实确实如此。首相自己也感觉到了。人们确实显得比平常更加惶恐不安，就连天气也不如人意，还是七月中旬，就已弥漫着寒冷的雾气……这很不对头，很不正常……

He turned over the second page of the memo, saw how much longer it went on, and gave it up as a bad job. Stretching his arms above his head he looked around his office mournfully. It was a handsome room, with a fine marble fireplace facing the long sash windows, firmly closed against the unseasonable chill. With a slight shiver, the Prime Minister got up and moved over to the window, looking out at the thin mist that was pressing itself against the glass. It was then, as he stood with his back to the room, that he heard a soft cough behind him.

他翻到备忘录的第二页，发现后面的内容还很长，知道不可能把它看完，便索性放弃了。他把两只胳膊伸过头顶，郁闷地打量着他的办公室。这是一个很气派的房间，漂亮的大理石壁炉对着长长的框格窗，窗户关得很严实，挡住了外面不合季节的寒雾。首相微微打了个寒战，站起来走到窗户前，望着外面紧贴窗玻璃的薄薄的雾气。正当他背对房间站在那儿的时候，他听见身后传来一声轻轻的咳嗽。

He froze, nose to nose with his own scared-looking reflection in the dark glass. He knew that cough. He had heard it before. He turned very slowly to face the empty room.

他僵住了，面前黑黑的窗玻璃里是他自己那张惊恐的脸。他熟悉这咳嗽声。他以前曾经听见过。他缓缓地转过身，面对着空荡荡的房间。

"Hello?" he said, trying to sound braver than he felt.

“喂？”他说，努力使自己的声音听上去显得勇敢一些。

For a brief moment he allowed himself the impossible hope that nobody would answer him. However, a voice responded at once, a crisp, decisive voice that sounded as though it were reading a prepared statement. It was coming -- as the Prime Minister had known at the first cough -- from the frog-like little man wearing a long silver wig who was depicted in a small, dirty oil painting in the far corner of the room.

那一瞬间，他明知道不可能，但心里还是隐约希望没有人会答应他。然而，立刻有个声音做了回答，这个声音清脆、果断，好像在念一篇准备好的发言稿。首相听见第一声咳嗽时就知道，这声音来自那个戴着长长的银色假发、长得像青蛙一般的小个子男人，他是房间那头墙角里一幅肮脏的小油画上的人物。

"To the Prime Minister of Muggles. Urgent we meet. Kindly respond immediately. Sincerely, Fudge." The man in the painting looked inquiringly at the Prime Minister.

“致麻瓜首相。要求紧急会面。请立刻答复。忠实的，福吉。”油画里的男人询问地望着首相。

"Er," said the Prime Minister, "listen… it's not a very good time for me… I'm waiting for a telephone call, you see… from the president of --"

“嗯，”首相说，“听着……这个时间对我不合适……我在等一个电话……是一位总统的——”

"That can be rearranged," said the portrait at once. The Prime Minister's heart sank. He had been afraid of that.

“那可以重新安排。”肖像不假思索地说。首相的心往下一沉。他担心的就是这个。

"But I really was rather hoping to speak --"

“但是我确实希望跟他通话——”

"We shall arrange for the president to forget to call. He will telephone tomorrow night instead," said the little man. "Kindly respond immediately to Mr. Fudge."

“我们会让总统忘记打电话的事情。他会在明天晚上再打来电话。”小个子男人说，“请立即答复福吉先生。”

"I… oh… very well," said the Prime Minister weakly. "Yes, I'll see Fudge."

“我……噢……好吧，”首相无可奈何地说，“行，我就见见福吉。”

He hurried back to his desk, straightening his tie as he went. He had barely resumed his seat, and arranged his face into what he hoped was a relaxed and unfazed expression, when bright green flames burst into life in the empty grate beneath his marble mantelpiece. He watched, trying not to betray a flicker of surprise or alarm, as a portly man appeared within the flames, spinning as fast as a top. Seconds later, he had climbed out onto a rather fine antique rug, brushing ash from the sleeves of his long pin-striped cloak, a lime-green bowler hat in his hand.

他匆匆走向办公桌，一边正了正领带。他刚刚坐定，把面部表情调整得如他希望的那样轻松、镇定自若，就见大理石壁炉下面空空的炉栅里突然冒出了鲜绿色的火苗。首相竭力掩饰住内心的惊讶和恐慌，眼睁睁地看着一个大胖子出现在火焰中间，像陀螺一样飞快地转个不停。几秒钟后，大胖子跨过炉栅，手里拿着一顶黄绿色的圆顶高帽，站到一方古色古香的精美地毯上，掸了掸他那件细条子斗篷袖子上的炉灰。

"Ah… Prime Minister," said Cornelius Fudge, striding forward with his hand outstretched. "Good to see you again."

“呵……首相，”康奈利·福吉说着，大步走了过来，伸出一只手，“很高兴跟你又见面了。”

The Prime Minister could not honestly return this compliment, so said nothing at all. He was not remotely pleased to see Fudge, whose occasional appearances, apart from being downright alarming in themselves, generally meant that he was about to hear some very bad news. Furthermore, Fudge was looking distinctly careworn. He was thinner, balder, and grayer, and his face had a crumpled look. The Prime Minister had seen that kind of look in politicians before, and it never boded well.

首相从心底里不愿回答这句客套话，便什么也没说。他一点儿也不愿意见到福吉，福吉以前的几次露面，除了令人特别惊慌外，一般意味着又要听到一些特别糟糕的消息了。况且，福吉这次显然显得忧心忡忡。他比以前瘦了，脸色更加晦暗，脑袋也秃得更厉害了，脸上看上去皱巴巴的。首相曾在政客们脸上看见过这种神情，一般来说，这不是一个好兆头。

"How can I help you?" he said, shaking Fudge's hand very briefly and gesturing toward the hardest of the chairs in front of the desk.

“我能帮你做点什么吗？”首相问，匆匆握了一下福吉的手，示意他坐到桌子前一把最硬的椅子上。

"Difficult to know where to begin," muttered Fudge, pulling up the chair, sitting down, and placing his green bowler upon his knees. "What a week, what a week…"

“真不知道从哪儿说起，”福吉嘟囔道，拉过椅子坐下，把那顶绿色的圆顶高帽放在膝盖上，“这个星期真够呛，真够呛啊……”

"Had a bad one too, have you?" asked the Prime Minister stiffly, hoping to convey by this that he had quite enough on his plate already without any extra helpings from Fudge.

“你这个星期也过得不顺心吗？”首相板着脸问，他想让对方明白，他自己需要操心的事情已经够多的了，不想再替福吉分担什么。

"Yes, of course," said Fudge, rubbing his eyes wearily and looking morosely at the Prime Minister. "I've been having the same week you have, Prime Minister. The Brockdale Bridge… the Bones and Vance murders… not to mention the ruckus in the West Country…"

“是啊，那还用说。”福吉说着疲倦地揉揉眼睛，愁闷地看着首相，“这个星期我跟你的遭遇差不多，首相。布罗克代尔桥……博恩斯和万斯的命案……更别提西部的那场动乱……”

"You -- er -- your -- I mean to say, some of your people were -- were involved in those -- those things, were they?"

“你们——嗯——你们的——我是说，你们的一些人跟——跟这些事件有关，是吗？”

Fudge fixed the Prime Minister with a rather stern look. "Of course they were," he said, "Surely you've realized what's going on?"

福吉非常严厉地瞪着首相。“当然是这样。”他说，“你肯定明白是怎么回事？”

"I…" hesitated the Prime Minister.

“我……”首相迟疑着。

It was precisely this sort of behavior that made him dislike Fudge's visits so much. He was, after all, the Prime Minister and did not appreciate being made to feel like an ignorant schoolboy. But of course, it had been like this from his very first meeting with Fudge on his very first evening as Prime Minister. He remembered it as though it were yesterday and knew it would haunt him until his dying day.

正是这种状况，使他不太喜欢福吉的来访。他毕竟是堂堂的首相，不愿意有人让他感觉自己是个什么都不懂的小学生。可是，自他当上首相的第一个晚上与福吉的第一次见面起，情况就是这样。他还清楚地记得当时的情景，就好像是昨天刚发生的事情，他知道他至死也忘不了那段记忆。

He had been standing alone in this very office, savoring the triumph that was his after so many years of dreaming and scheming, when he had heard a cough behind him, just like tonight, and turned to find that ugly little portrait talking to him, announcing that the Minister of Magic was about to arrive and introduce himself

当时他独自站在这间办公室里，品味着经历了那么多年的梦想和精心谋划之后，终于获得成功的喜悦，突然，他听见身后传来一声咳嗽，就像今晚一样，他转身一看，是那幅丑陋的小肖像在跟他说话，通报说魔法部部长要来拜访他。

Naturally, he had thought that the long campaign and the strain of the election had caused him to go mad. He had been utterly terrified to find a portrait talking to him, though this had been nothing to how he felt when a self-proclaimed wizard had bounced out of the fireplace and shaken his hand. He had remained speechless throughout Fudge's kindly explanation that there were witches and wizards still living in secret all over the world and his reassurances that he was not to bother his head about them as the Ministry of Magic took responsibility for the whole Wizarding community and prevented the non-magical population from getting wind of them. It was, said Fudge, a difficult job that encompassed everything from regulations on responsible use of broomsticks to keeping the dragon population under control (the Prime Minister remembered clutching the desk for support at this point). Fudge had then patted the shoulder of the still-dumbstruck Prime Minister in a fatherly sort of way.

自然地，他以为这是长期的竞选活动和选举的压力导致他的精神有点失常。他发现一幅肖像在跟他说话时确实惊恐极了，这还不算，后来又有一个自称是巫师的人从壁炉里跳了出来，跟他握手，他更是吓得不知所措。他一言不发，福吉友好地解释说如今仍有巫师秘密地生活在世界各地，还安慰他说这些事用不着他来操心，因为魔法部有责任管理整个巫师界，不让非巫师人群知道他们的存在。福吉说，这是一件相当艰巨的工作，简直无所不包，从规定如何认真负责地使用飞天扫帚，到控制和管辖所有的火龙（首相记得自己听到这里时，不由得紧紧抓住了桌子，以免自己摔倒）。福吉说完之后，还像慈父一样拍了拍仍然瞠目结舌的首相的肩膀。

"Not to worry," he had said, "it's odds-on you'll never see me again. I'll only bother you if there's something really serious going on our end, something that's likely to affect the Muggles -- the non-magical population, I should say. Otherwise, it's live and let live. And I must say, you're taking it a lot better than your predecessor. He tried to throw me out the window, thought I was a hoax planned by the opposition."

“不用担心，”他说，“你多半不会再见到我了。只有在我们那边出了严重的麻烦，有可能影响到麻瓜，就是那些非巫师人群的时候，我才会来打扰你。除此之外，你就顺其自然好了。对了，我还得说一句，你接受这件事的态度比你那位前任强多了。他以为我是他的政敌派来的一个骗子，要把我扔出窗外呢。”

At this, the Prime Minister had found his voice at last.

这时，首相终于找到机会能说话了。

"You're -- you're not a hoax, then?"

“这么说，你——不是骗子？”

It had been his last, desperate hope.

这是他仅存的一点渺茫的希望。

"No," said Fudge gently. "No, I'm afraid I'm not. Look."

“不是，”福吉温和地说，“对不起，我不是。你看。”

And he had turned the Prime Minister's teacup into a gerbil.

说着他一挥魔杖，就把首相的茶杯变成了一只沙鼠。

"But," said the Prime Minister breathlessly, watching his teacup chewing on the corner of his next speech, "but why -- why has nobody told me --?"

“可是，”首相注视着他的茶杯在啃他的下一次演讲稿，上气不接下气地说，“可是，为什么——为什么没有人告诉过我——？”

"The Minister of Magic only reveals him -- or herself to the Muggle Prime Minister of the day," said Fudge, poking his wand back inside his jacket. "We find it the best way to maintain secrecy."

“魔法部部长只在执政的麻瓜首相面前暴露自己的身份。”福吉说着把魔杖重新插进了衣服里面，“我们认为这样最有利于保持隐蔽。”

"But then," bleated the Prime Minister, "why hasn't a former Prime Minister warned me --?"

“可是，”首相用颤抖的声音说，“为什么前任首相没有提醒我——？”

At this, Fudge had actually laughed.

听了这话，福吉竟然笑出声来。

"My dear Prime Minister, are you ever going to tell anybody?"

“我亲爱的首相，难道你会去跟别人说吗？”

Still chortling, Fudge had thrown some powder into the fireplace, stepped into the emerald flames, and vanished with a whooshing sound. The Prime Minister had stood there, quite motionless, and realized that he would never, as long as he lived, dare mention this encounter to a living soul, for who in the wide world would believe him?

福吉仍然呵呵地笑着，往壁炉里扔了一些粉末，然后跨进翠绿色的火苗，呼的一声就消失了。首相一动不动地怔在那里，他知道，只要他还活着，是绝对不敢跟任何人提起这场会面的，在这大千世界里，有谁会相信他呢？

The shock had taken a little while to wear off. For a time, he had tried to convince himself that Fudge had indeed been a hallucination brought on by lack of sleep during his grueling election campaign. In a vain attempt to rid himself of all reminders of this uncomfortable encounter, he had given the gerbil to his delighted niece and instructed his private secretary to take down the portrait of the ugly little man who had announced Fudge's arrival. To the Prime Minister's dismay, however, the portrait had proved impossible to remove. When several carpenters, a builder or two, an art historian, and the Chancellor of the Exchequer had all tried unsuccessfully to pry it from the wall, the Prime Minister had abandoned the attempt and simply resolved to hope that the thing remained motionless and silent for the rest of his term in office. Occasionally he could have sworn he saw out of the corner of his eye the occupant of the painting yawning, or else scratching his nose; even, once or twice, simply walking out of his frame and leaving nothing but a stretch of muddy-brown canvas behind. However, he had trained himself not to look at the picture very much, and always to tell himself firmly that his eyes were playing tricks on him when anything like this happened.

过了一段时间，他那颗受了惊吓的心才慢慢平静下来。他曾经试图说服自己，那个什么福吉只是一个幻觉，是因为竞选活动弄得他心力交瘁，睡眠不足，才出现了这样的幻觉。为了摆脱所有会让他想起这场不愉快会面的东西，他把那只沙鼠送给了欢天喜地的侄女，还吩咐他的私人秘书把那个通报福吉来访的小个子丑八怪的肖像取下来。可令他大为沮丧的是，那幅肖像竟然怎么也弄不走。他们动用了几位木匠、一两个建筑工人、一位艺术史专家，还有财政大臣，费了九牛二虎之力想把它从墙上撬下来，都没有成功。最后首相不再尝试了，只是一门心思地希望那玩意儿在他任期之内一直保持静止和沉默。偶尔，他可以肯定他的眼角瞥见画像里的人在打哈欠或挠鼻子，有一两次甚至走出了画框，只留下空空的一片土灰色帆布。不过，首相训练自己不要经常去看那幅画像，每当出现这类蹊跷的事情时，他总是坚决地告诉自己是他的眼睛出现了错觉。

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第二章: 蜘蛛尾巷

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更多章节：http://www.dian3x.com/story/book/c8f3cfd2-eb71-3996-6ee3-c232533944da.html?c=toutiao

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