The Dark Lord Ascending
The two men appeared out of nowhere, a few yards apart in the narrow, moonlit
lane. For a second they stood quite still, wands directed at each other\'s chests; then,
recognizing each other, they stowed their wands beneath their cloaks and started walking
briskly in the same direction.
"News?" asked the taller of the two.
"The best," replied Severus Snape.
The lane was bordered on the left by wild, low-growing brambles, on the right by a high,
neatly manicured hedge. The men\'s long cloaks flapped around their ankles as they
marched.
"Thought I might be late," said Yaxley, his blunt features sliding in and out of sight as
the branches of overhanging trees broke the moonlight. "It was a little trickier than I
expected. But I hope he will be satisfied. You sound confident that your reception will be
good?"
Snape nodded, but did not elaborate. They turned right, into a wide driveway that led
off the lane. The high hedge curved into them, running off into the distance beyond the
pair of imposing wrought-iron gates barring the men’s way. Neither of them broke step:
In silence both raised their left arms in a kind of salute and passed straight through, as
though the dark metal was smoke.
The yew hedges muffled the sound of the men’s footsteps. There was a rustle
somewhere to their right: Yaxley drew his wand again pointing it over his companion’s
head, but the source of the noise proved to be nothing more than a pure-white peacock,
strutting majestically along the top of the hedge.
“He always did himself well, Lucius. Peacocks …” Yaxley thrust his wand back
under his cloak with a snort.
A handsome manor house GREw out of the darkness at the end of the straight drive,
lights glinting in the diamond paned downstairs windows. Somewhere in the dark garden
beyond the hedge a fountain was playing. Gravel crackled beneath their feet as Snape and
Yaxley sped toward the front door, which swung inward at their approach, though
nobody had visibly opened it.
The hallway was large, dimly lit, and sumptuously decorated, with a magnificent
carpet covering most of the stone floor. The eyes of the pale-faced portraits on the wall
followed Snape and Yaxley as they strode past. The two men halted at a heavy wooden
door leading into the next room, hesitated for the space of a heartbeat, then Snape turned
the bronze handle.
The drawing room was full of silent people, sitting at a long and ornate table. The
room’s usual furniture had been pushed carelessly up against the walls. Illumination
came from a roaring fire beneath a handsome marble mantelpiece surmounted by a gilded
mirror. Snape and Yaxley lingered for a moment on the threshold. As their eyes grew
accustomed to the lack of light, they were drawn upward to the strangest feature of the
scene: an apparently unconscious human figure hanging upside down over the table,
revolving slowly as if suspended by an invisible rope, and reflected in the mirror and in
the bare, polished surface of the table below. None of the people seated underneath this
singular sight were looking at it except for a pale young man sitting almost directly below
it. He seemed unable to prevent himself from glancing upward every minute or so.
“Yaxley. Snape,” said a high, clear voice from the head of the table. “You are
very nearly late.”
The speaker was seated directly in front of the fireplace, so that it was difficult, at
first, for the new arrivals to make out more than his silhouette. As they drew nearer,
however, his face shone through the gloom, hairless, snakelike, with slits for nostrils and
gleaming red eyes whose pupils were vertical. He was so pale that he seemed to emit a
pearly glow.
“Severus, here,” said Voldemort, indicating the seat on his immediate right.
“Yaxley – beside Dolohov.”
The two men took their allotted places. Most of the eyes around the table
followed Snape, and it was to him that Voldemort spoke first.
“So?”
“My Lord, the Order of the Phoenix intends to move Harry Potter from his current
place of safety on Saturday next, at nightfall.”
The interest around the table sharpened palpably: Some stiffened, others fidgeted,
all gazing at Snape and Voldemort.
“Saturday … at nightfall,” repeated Voldemort. His red eyes fastened upon
Snape’s black ones with such intensity that some of the watchers looked away, apparently
fearful that they themselves would be scorched by the ferocity of the gaze. Snape,
however, looked calmly back into Voldemort’s face and, after a moment or two,
Voldemort’s lipless mouth curved into something like a smile.
“Good. Very good. And this information comes –“
“ – from the source we discussed,” said Snape.
“My Lord.”
Yaxley had leaned forward to look down the long table at Voldemort and Snape.
All faces turned to him.
“My Lord, I have heard differently.”
Yaxley waited, but Voldemort did not speak, so he went on, “Dawlish, the Auror,
let slip that Potter will not be moved until the thirtieth, the night before the boy turns
seventeen.”
Snape was smiling.
“My source told me that there are plans to lay a false trail; this must be it. No
doubt a Confundus Charm has been placed upon Dawlish. It would not be the first time;
he is known to be susceptible.”
“I assure you, my Lord, Dawlish seemed quite certain,” said Yaxley.
“If he has been Confunded, naturally he is certain,” said Snape. “I assure you,
Yaxley, the Auror Office will play no further part in the protection of Harry Potter. The
Order believes that we have infiltrated the Ministry.”
“The Order’s got one thing right, then, eh?” said a squat man sitting a short
distance from Yaxley; he gave a wheezy giggle that was echoed here and there along the
table.
Voldemort did not laugh. His gaze had wandered upward to the body revolving
slowly overhead, and he seemed to be lost in thought.
“My Lord,” Yaxley went on, “Dawlish believes an entire party of Aurors will be
used to transfer the boy –“
Voldemort held up a large white hand, and Yaxley subsided at once, watching
resentfully as Voldemort turned back to Snape.
“Where are they going to hide the boy next?”
“At the home of one of the Order,” said Snape. “The place, according to the
source, has been given every protection that the Order and Ministry together could
provide. I think that there is little chance of taking him once he is there, my Lord, unless,
of course, the Ministry has fallen before next Saturday, which might give us the
opportunity to discover and undo enough of the enchantments to break through the rest.”
“Well, Yaxley?” Voldemort called down the table, the firelight glinting strangely
in his red eyes. “Will the Ministry have fallen by next Saturday?”
Once again, all heads turned. Yaxley squared his shoulders.
“My Lord, I have good news on that score. I have – with difficulty, and after great
effort – succeeded in placing an Imperius Curse upon Pius Thicknesse.”
Many of those sitting around Yaxley looked impressed; his neighbor, Dolohov, a
man with a long, twisted face, clapped him on the back.
“It is a start,” said Voldemort. “But Thicknesse is only one man. Scrimgeour must
be surrounded by our people before I act. One failed attempt on the Minister’s life will
set me back a long way.”
“Yes – my Lord, that is true – but you know, as Head of the Department of
Magical Law Enforcement, Thicknesse has regular contact not only with the Minister
himself, but also with the Heads of all the other Ministry departments. It will, I think, be
easy now that we have such a high-ranking official under our control, to subjugate the
others, and then they can all work together to bring Scrimgeour down.”
“As long as our friend Thicknesse is not discovered before he has converted the
rest,” said Voldemort. “At any rate, it remains unlikely that the Ministry will be mine
before next Saturday. If we cannot touch the boy at his destination, then it must be done
while he travels.”
“We are at an advantage there, my Lord,” said Yaxley, who seemed determined to
receive some portion of approval. “We now have several people planted within the
Department of Magical Transport. If Potter Apparates or uses the Floo Network, we shall
know immediately.”
“He will not do either,” said Snape. “The Order is eschewing any form of
transport that is controlled or regulated by the Ministry; they mistrust everything to do
with the place.”
“All the better,” said Voldemort. “He will have to move in the open. Easier to
take, by far.”
Again, Voldemort looked up at the slowly revolving body as he went on, “I shall
attend to the boy in person. There have been too many mistakes where Harry Potter is
concerned. Some of them have been my own. That Potter lives is due more to my errors
than to his triumphs.”
The company around the table watched Voldemort apprehensively, each of them,
by his or her expression, afraid that they might be blamed for Harry Potter’s continued
existence. Voldemort, however, seemed to be speaking more to himself than to any of
them, still addressing the unconscious body above him.
“I have been careless, and so have been thwarted by luck and chance, those
wreckers of all but the best-laid plans. But I know better now. I understand those things
that I did not understand before. I must be the one to kill Harry Potter, and I shall be.”
At these words, seemingly in response to them, a sudden wail sounded, a terrible,
drawn-out cry of misery and pain. Many of those at the table looked downward, startled,
for the sound had seemed to issue from below their feet.
“Wormtail,” said Voldemort, with no change in his quiet, thoughtful tone, and
without removing his eyes from the revolving body above, “have I not spoken to you
about keeping our prisoner quiet?”
“Yes, m-my Lord,” gasped a small man halfway down the table, who had been
sitting so low in his chair that it appeared, at first glance, to be unoccupied. Now he
scrambled from his seat and scurried from the room, leaving nothing behind him but a
curious gleam of silver.
“As I was saying,” continued Voldemort, looking again at the tense faces of his
followers, “I understand better now. I shall need, for instance, to borrow a wand from one
of you before I go to kill Potter.”
The faces around him displayed nothing but shock; he might have announced that
he wanted to borrow one of their arms.
“No volunteers?” said Voldemort. “Let’s see … Lucius, I see no reason for you to
have a wand anymore.”
Lucius Malfoy looked up. His skin appeared yellowish and waxy in the firelight,
and his eyes were sunken and shadowed. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.
“My Lord?”
“Your wand, Lucius. I require your wand.”
“I …”
Malfoy glanced sideways at his wife. She was staring straight ahead, quite as pale
as he was, her long blonde hair hanging down her back, but beneath the table her slim
fingers closed briefly on his wrist. At her touch, Malfoy put his hand into his robes,
withdrew a wand, and passed it along to Voldemort, who held it up in front of his red
eyes, examining it closely.
“What is it?”
“Elm, my Lord,” whispered Malfoy.
“And the core?”
“Dragon – dragon heartstring.”
“Good,” said Voldemort. He drew out his wand and compared the lengths. Lucius
Malfoy made an involuntary movement; for a fraction of a second, it seemed he expected
to receive Voldemort’s wand in exchange for his own. The gesture was not missed by
Voldemort, whose eyes widened maliciously.
“Give you my wand, Lucius? My wand?”
Some of the throng sniggered.
“I have given you your liberty, Lucius, is that not enough for you? But I have
noticed that you and your family seem less than happy of late … What is it about my
presence in your home that displaces you, Lucius?”
“Nothing – nothing, my Lord!”
“Such lies Lucius … “
The soft voice seemed to hiss on even after the cruel mouth had stopped moving.
One or two of the wizards barely repressed a shudder as the hissing grew louder;
something heavy could be heard sliding across the floor beneath the table.
The huge snake emerged to climb slowly up Voldemort’s chair. It rose, seemingly
endlessly, and came to rest across Voldemort’s shoulders: its neck the thickness of a
man’s thigh; its eyes, with their vertical slits for pupils, unblinking. Voldemort stroked
the creature absently with long thin fingers, still looking at Lucius Malfoy.
“Why do the Malfoys look so unhappy with their lot? Is my return, my rise to
power, not the very thing they professed to desire for so many years?”
“Of course, my Lord,” said Lucius Malfoy. His hand shook as he wiped sweat
from his upper lip. “We did desire it – we do.”
To Malfoy’s left, his wife made an odd, stiff nod, her eyes averted from
Voldemort and the snake. To his right, his son, Draco, who had been gazing up at the
inert body overhead, glanced quickly at Voldemort and away again, terrified to make eye
contact.
“My Lord,” said a dark woman halfway down the table, her voice constricted with
emotion, “it is an honor to have you here, in our family’s house. There can be no higher
pleasure.”
She sat beside her sister, as unlike her in looks, with her dark hair and heavily
lidded eyes, as she was in bearing and demeanor; where Narcissa sat rigid and impassive,
Bellatrix leaned toward Voldemort, for mere words could not demonstrate her longing for
closeness.
“No higher pleasure,” repeated Voldemort, his head tilted a little to one side as he
considered Bellatrix. “That means a great deal, Bellatrix, from you.”
Her face flooded with color; her eyes welled with tears of delight.
“My Lord knows I speak nothing but the truth!”
“No higher pleasure … even compared with the happy event that, I hear, has
taken place in your family this week?”
She stared at him, her lips parted, evidently confused.
“I don’t know what you mean, my Lord.”
“I’m talking about your niece, Bellatrix. And yours, Lucius and Narcissa. She has
just married the werewolf, Remus Lupin. You must be so proud.”
There was an eruption of jeering laughter from around the table. Many leaned
forward to exchange gleeful looks; a few thumped the table with their fists. The giant
snake, disliking the disturbance, opened its mouth wide and hissed angrily, but the Death
Eaters did not hear it, so jubilant were they at Bellatrix and the Malfoys’ humiliation.
Bellatrix’s face, so recently flushed wit happiness, had turned an ugly, blotchy red.
“She is no niece of ours, my Lord,” she cried over the outpouring of mirth. “We –
Narcissa and I – have never set eyes on our sister since she married the Mudblood. This
brat has nothing to do with either of us, nor any beast she marries.”
“What say you, Draco?” asked Voldemort, and though his voice was quiet, it
carried clearly through the catcalls and jeers. “Will you babysit the cubs?”
The hilarity mounted; Draco Malfoy looked in terror at his father, who was
staring down into his own lap, then caught his mother’s eye. She shook her head almost
imperceptibly, then resumed her own deadpan stare at the opposite wall.
“Enough,” said Voldemort, stroking the angry snake. “Enough.”
And the laughter died at once.
“Many of our oldest family trees become a little diseased over time,” he said as
Bellatrix gazed at him, breathless and imploring, “You must prune yours, must you not,
to keep it healthy? Cut away those parts that threaten the health of the rest.”
“Yes, my Lord,” whispered Bellatrix, and her eyes swam with tears of gratitude
again. “At the first chance!”
“You shall have it,” said Voldemort. “And in your family, so in the world … we
shall cut away the canker that infects us until only those of the true blood remain …”
Voldemort raised Lucius Malfoy’s wand, pointed it directly at the slowly
revolving figure suspended over the table, and gave it a tiny flick. The figure came to life
with a groan and began to struggle against invisible bonds.
“Do you recognize our guest, Severus?” asked Voldemort.
Snape raised his eyes to the upside down face. All of the Death Eaters were
looking up at the captive now, as though they had been given permission to show
curiosity. As she revolved to face the firelight, the woman said in a cracked and terrified
voice, “Severus! Help me!”
“Ah, yes,” said Snape as the prisoner turned slowly away again.
“And you, Draco?” asked Voldemort, stroking the snake’s snout with his wand-
free hand. Draco shook his head jerkily. Now that the woman had woken, he seemed
unable to look at her anymore.
“But you would not have taken her classes,” said Voldemort. “For those of you
who do not know, we are joined here tonight by Charity Burbage who, until recently,
taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”
There were small noises of comprehension around the table. A broad, hunched
woman with pointed teeth cackled.
“Yes … Professor Burbage taught the children of witches and wizards all about
Muggles … how they are not so different from us … “
One of the Death Eaters spat on the floor. Charity Burbage revolved to face Snape
again.
“Severus … please … please … “
“Silence,” said Voldemort, with another twitch of Malfoy’s wand, and Charity fell
silent as if gagged. “Not content with corrupting and polluting the minds of Wizarding
children, last week Professor Burbage wrote an impassioned defense of Mudbloods in the
Daily Prophet. Wizards, she says, must accept these thieves of their knowledge and
magic. The dwindling of the purebloods is, says Professor Burbage, a most desirable
circumstance … She would have us all mate with Muggles … or, no doubt, werewolves
… “
Nobody laughed this time. There was no mistaking the anger and contempt in
Voldemort’s voice. For the third time, Charity Burbage revolved to face Snape. Tears
were pouring from her eyes into her hair. Snape looked back at her, quite impassive, as
she turned slowly away from him again.
“Avada Kedavra”
The FLASH of green light illuminated every corner of the room. Charity fell, with a
resounding crash, onto the table below, which trembled and creaked. Several of the Death
Eaters leapt back in their chairs. Draco fell out of his onto the floor.
“Dinner, Nagini,” said Voldemort softly, and the great snake swayed and slithered
from his shoulders onto the polished wood.
在一条洒满月光的狭窄小路上，两个男人凭空出现在了相距几码的地方。他们一动不动地静立着，互相用魔杖指着对方的胸膛；很快，他们认出了对方，将魔杖收在了长袍下，朝着同一个方向飞速走去。
“有新消息么？”两人中的高个子问道。
“好极了的消息”西弗勒斯?斯内普回答。
小路左边长满了茂密低矮的荆棘，而右边则是被修剪得整整齐齐的高大树篱。两人飞快地前进着，身上的长袍不停地拍打着他们的脚踝。
“我还以为我会迟到”,亚克斯利说道，上方的树枝时不时地把月光遮住，他笨拙的身影也时隐时现,“比我所想象的要困难些，但我希望他会满意。听起来你对你们的见面很自信？”
斯内普点了点头，但没有详细说下去。他们转进右边一条宽阔的车道，离开了小路。高高的树篱随着他们转了个弯，远处一扇华丽的铁门挡在了他们面前，但两个人都没停下脚步。静寂中，他们像行礼似地举起了左手，然后径直穿过了铁门，那黑色的金属仿佛只是一团烟雾。
紫杉树篱的响声模糊了两个男人的脚步声。突然，他们的右边发出了沙沙的声音，亚克斯利抽出魔杖，举过他同伴的头顶，对准了声音发出的地方。但那声音只不过是一只白孔雀在树篱顶部昂首阔步时所发出的。
“卢修斯总是把自己弄得太过舒适了。孔雀……”亚克斯利发出一声粗重的鼻息，把魔杖狠狠地插回了斗篷。
路的尽头，一座堂皇的宅院处从漆黑的夜幕中闪现出来，楼下用钻石拼成的窗户里透出点点灯光。漆黑的院子里，有一座喷泉在喷水。斯内普和亚克斯利快速走向前门，碎石在他们脚下噼啪作响。门打开了，尽管他们没看到任何人来开门。
走廊很宽阔，灯光昏暗但却装饰得很奢华，石制的地面上铺着华丽的地毯。当斯内普和亚克斯利迈着大步穿越走廊的时候，墙上那些面色苍白的雕像目不转睛地望着他们。他们在通向下一间房子的厚重木门前停了下来，平静了一下呼吸，接着，斯内普转动了铜制把手。
休息室里华丽的长桌边坐满了人，一个个都沉默不语。房间里的家具被随意地堆在墙边。大理石壁炉里熊熊的火焰是房间内的唯一光源，壁炉的上方有一面镀金的镜子。斯内普和亚克斯利在门口逗留了一会儿，当他们的眼睛适应了这微弱的光线后，一个非常奇怪的场景吸引了他们：一个不省人事的人倒悬在桌子上方，缓慢地旋转着，就好像有一条无形的绳子绑着他似的，他倒映在镜子和那被蹭得锃亮的桌面里。然而，在场的所有人都没有看他，除了一个面色苍白的年轻人，这年轻人几乎就是坐在他的正下方，好像忍不住每几分钟就要看他一眼。
“亚克斯利，斯内普”桌前传来一阵清亮高昂的声音，“你们快要迟到了。”
说话的人坐在壁炉的正前方，所以刚来的两位一眼看去只能隐约分辨出他的轮廓。两人走近了几步，终于看清了他那张在黑暗中发光的脸，那是一张没有头发，像蛇一样的脸，他的鼻孔是一条细线，猩红色眼睛中瞳孔也成为一条细线。他实在太苍白了，苍白得简直像珍珠里发出的微光。
“西弗勒斯，坐在这里”，伏地魔边说边指着他右边最近的座位，“亚克斯利，你坐在多隆豪弗旁边。”
俩人在指定的位子上坐下了，桌边的大部分人都盯着斯内普，伏地魔也首先向他询问。
“怎么样？”
“主人，凤凰社准备在下周六的傍晚时分把哈利波特从现在的住所转移到安全的地方。”
这显然勾起了在座人们的兴趣：有些人惊呆了，另一些则坐立不安，大家都直勾勾的盯着斯内普和伏地魔。
“周六……傍晚……”，伏地魔重复着，他猩红的眼睛死死的盯住斯内普的黑眼睛，以至于一些旁观者将目光移向了别处，他们显然害怕自己会被这种残忍的目光灼透。斯内普却沉着地的回视着伏地魔的脸，过了一会儿，伏地魔那没有嘴唇的嘴微微弯曲了一下，像是在笑。
“好，非常好。那这个消息来自……？”
“来自我们讨论过的那个线人”，斯内普说。
“主人”
亚克斯利向前倾了倾身子，看着桌子那头的伏地魔和斯内普，所有人的脸现在都转向了他。
“主人，我听到了不同的消息。”
亚克斯利等待着，但伏地魔什么也没有说，于是他接着说道，“那个敖罗德力士，透露说波特在30日之前不会被转移，也就是那个男孩17岁生日的前一天。”
斯内普笑了。
“我的线人告诉我他们准备放一个假消息，这一定是那个假消息，德力士无疑是被施了混淆咒，他总是对此缺乏抵抗力，这已经不是第一次了。”
“主人，我向你保证，德力士看起来非常确定”亚克斯利说。
“如果他真的被施了混淆咒，他自然会很确定”，斯内普说，“亚克斯利，我向你保证，傲罗办公室不会再参与保护哈利波特的工作了，凤凰社确信我们已经渗透进了部里。”
“那凤凰社在这点上还是正确的，是吧？”离亚克斯利不远处一个蜷缩着的男人说道，他声嘶力竭的笑声在桌子四周回荡。
伏地魔没有笑。他凝视着上方那个缓缓旋转的身体，好像陷入了沉思。
“主人”，亚克斯利接着说，“德力士认为有整整一队的傲罗会被派去转移那个男孩。”
伏地魔举起了苍白的大手，亚克斯利立刻就没有声音了，愤愤不平的看着伏地魔转向斯内普。
“他们接下来准备把那个男孩儿藏在哪儿？”
“藏在一个凤凰社成员的家中，”斯内普说，“据线人称，社里和魔法部用尽了一切措施来保护这个地方。我认为一旦他被送到了那儿，我们就很难再抓到他了。主人，除非……当然，除非魔法部在下个星期六前就垮掉，这样我们就可能有机会发现和破解足够的魔法，到时候我们就能解决掉剩下的魔法了。”
“那么，亚克斯利，”伏地魔对着桌子下方说道，炉火映在他的眼睛中，奇怪的闪烁着，“魔法部会在下周六前垮掉么？”
所有人再一次转过了头，亚克斯利挺直了身子。
“主人，关于这点，我也有一个好消息。我历尽千辛万苦，终于成功地对毕尤斯?底克尼斯施了夺魂咒。”
亚克斯利周围的许多人看起来十分欣喜，坐在他旁边的，那个长着一张长长的、扭曲的脸的多隆豪弗甚至在他的肩上拍了几下。
“那仅仅是一个开始，”伏地魔说，“仅仅底克尼斯一个人是不够的。在我行动之前，我们必须包围斯克林杰，取部长性命行动中的任何一次失败都会让我退后一大步。”
“是的，主人，确实如此，但是你也知道，作为魔法执行司的司长，底克尼斯不但可以经常与部长本人联系而且可以和部里各个部门的领导联系。我想，现在有一个这样的高层官员在我们的控制之下，这对我们制服他人是很有利的。然后我们就可以利用他们把斯克林杰搞下台。”
“不管我们的朋友底克尼斯在他把剩下的人拉下水之前是否会被发现，”伏地魔说，“无论如何，在下周六之前我们拿下魔法部都还不是稳操胜券的。如果我们不能在终点截到那个男孩，那么我们就必须在途中下手。”
“我们在这方面有优势，主人。”亚克斯利说，他似乎很想得到别人的认可，“我们在魔法运输司安插了几个人，如果波特幻影显形或者使用飞路网，我们立刻就会知道。”
“他不会用这其中的任何一种方式，”斯内普说，“凤凰社不会使用任何被魔法部控制或管理的运输方式，他们对与那个地点有关的一切都保持着怀疑。”
“那反而更好，”伏地魔说，“那他就得在室外被转移，我们就能更容易抓到他了。”
伏地魔又抬头看了看那个缓慢旋转的身体，接着说道：“我要亲自对付那男孩。跟哈利?波特有关的计划漏洞百出，这其中也有些是我自己所造成的。波特那小子能活到现在，与其说是他的胜利，不如说是因为我所犯下的错误。”
桌边的人都胆战兢兢的看着伏地魔，从每个人的表情可以看出，他们都害怕伏地魔将哈利能存活至今怪罪于自己。然而，伏地魔却更像是在自言自语，而且眼睛仍然盯着那具没有知觉的身体。
“我太大意了，也被自己完美计划中的运气和机遇这类致命问题所耽误了。但我现在明白了，明白了过去我所没有明白的东西。杀死波特的人必须是我，也一定会是我！”
话音刚落，突然响起了一声尖利绵长而又充满痛苦的哀号，好像是对这番话所做出的回应。桌边的许多人都震惊地朝桌子下面望去，那声音好像是从他们脚下发出来的。
“虫尾巴，”伏地魔用刚才那种平静、沉思的语调说道，眼镜依旧盯着上面那个旋转的身体，“我难道没有告诉过你要让我们的犯人保持安静吗？”
“是的，主……主人”，桌子中间的一个矮小的男人气喘吁吁地说。他刚才坐得太低了，以至于乍眼看去，他的椅子像是空的。他从椅子上爬起来，跑过房间，身后留下了一道奇特的银色微光。
“就像我刚才所说的那样，”伏地魔看着他那些神色慌张的追随者接着说，“我现在已经明白了，在杀死波特之前，我需要做些事情，比如，向你们中的某人借一根魔杖。”
伏地魔周围的所有脸孔一瞬间全部写满了震惊，就好像他所要借的是他们的一只胳膊似的。
“没有人自愿么？”伏地魔说，“让我来看看……卢修斯，我觉得你不再需要魔杖了。”
卢修斯?马尔福抬起头来。他的皮肤在火光里显得蜡黄蜡黄的，深陷的眼睛周围笼罩着阴影，他张开嘴，发出来嘶哑的声音。
“主人？”
“你的魔杖，卢修斯，我要你的魔杖。”
“我……”
马尔福瞥了一眼身旁的妻子。她目不转睛的盯着前方，脸色和她的丈夫一样苍白，她长长的金发垂在背上，然而在桌子下面，她纤细的手指轻轻地碰了一下他的手腕。因为妻子的这一碰，卢修斯把手伸进长袍，抽出魔杖，交给了伏地魔。伏地魔把魔杖举到了腥红色眼睛前，细细地观察着。
“是用什么做的？”
“榆木，主人。”卢修斯轻声说道。
“杖芯呢？”
“龙……龙心键。”
“很好，”伏地魔说，他把自己的魔杖拿出来比了比长度。卢修斯?马尔福不自主地移动了一下，有那么一刻，他看起来似乎在盼望伏地魔会把自己的魔杖交给他。他这一动没有逃过伏地魔的眼睛，他充满敌意地睁大了眼镜。
“把我的魔杖给你，卢修斯？我的魔杖？”
人群中发出了一阵窃笑。
“我已经给了你自由，卢修斯，这难道还不够么？但我发现你和你的家人好像不太开心啊，是因为我的出现而使你失去了职位，你感到不开心了么，卢修斯？”
“没，没有，主人！”
“别撒谎了，卢修斯……”
伏地魔残忍的嘴唇已经不动了，但似乎还有声音在嘶嘶作响。当嘶嘶声变得更响，一两个食死徒禁不住轻轻颤抖时，可以听见一个很沉重的东西从桌下滑过的声音。
一条巨蛇缓缓地爬上伏地魔的椅子。它一点点向上移动，长长的身子似乎没有尽头，然后它缠在伏地魔的肩头上休息了。它的脖子有人的大腿那么粗，它的眼睛和伏地魔一样，有着竖直的细缝，眨也不眨。伏地魔用他细长的手指心不在焉地敲击着它，目光仍旧盯着卢修斯?马尔福。
“为什么马尔福一家那么不高兴呢？我的回归，我重新掌权，不正是他们这么多年来一直宣称所渴望的事情吗？”
“当然是的，主人，” 卢修斯?马尔福说，他的手颤抖着擦去上唇的汗珠，“我们过去渴望——现在仍旧如此。”
在马尔福的左边，他的妻子奇怪地、僵硬地点了点头，把视线从从伏地魔和那条大蛇身上移开。在他的右边，他的儿子德拉科，在这之前一直盯着头上悬着的尸体，他瞥了一眼伏地魔后就立刻把目光移开了，他害怕与伏地魔对视。
“主人，”桌子中间的一个皮肤黝黑女人激动地说，“你能到这里，到我们家族的房子里来，是我们莫大的荣幸，再也没有比这更令人高兴的事情了。”
她坐在自己的妹妹旁边，两人一点都不像，她那深黑的头发和耷拉的眼睑使她看起来好像在承受着什么；纳西莎则冷漠僵硬地坐着，而贝拉克里特斯的身体倾向伏地魔，好像光是语言还不足以表达她对与伏地魔亲近的渴望似的。
“没有比这更令人高兴的事情了，”伏地魔重复道，他的头略微向她转了一下，“这太有意义了，贝拉克里特斯，对你来说。”
她的脸上充满了欣喜，热泪盈眶。
“主人知道我说的是实话！”
“没有比这更令人高兴的事情了……比那件这周发生在你家的喜事还更令你高兴吗？”
她盯着他，嘴张了张，显然很困惑。
“主人，我不知道您在说什么”
“我说的是你的侄女，贝拉克里特斯。也是你们的侄女，卢修斯和纳西莎。她刚和一个狼人结婚了，就是那个詹姆斯?卢平。你肯定感到很骄傲了。”
桌子周围爆发出了一阵嘲笑声，很多人相互交换了愉快的眼神，还有几个人用拳头捶打着桌子。桌下的巨蟒张大了嘴愤怒地嘶嘶叫着，表示对这阵骚动的抗议。但食死徒们根本没在意，继续嘲笑着贝拉克里特斯和马尔福家族的耻辱。贝拉克里特斯那刚刚还充满了喜悦的脸色瞬间变得羞红而丑陋。
“主人，我们没有这样的侄女，”她在那阵大笑声中她奋力喊着，“我们——纳西莎我和——自从我们的妹妹嫁给了那个泥巴种后，我们就再也没有正眼瞧过她。这个小杂种根本没有做过对一件对我们有用的事，对她嫁的那个禽兽也是。”
“你认为呢，德拉科？”伏地魔问，尽管他的声音很轻，但却清晰得传过了那片嘘声和嘲笑声，“你会管这样的小杂种吗？”
欢闹的场面凝固了。德拉科?马尔福恐惧地看了看他爸爸，而他爸爸正低头盯着自己的大腿，他只能再看向妈妈。她令人无法察觉地摇了摇头，然后又继续面无表情地盯向对面的墙了。
“行了”，伏地魔抚摸了一下那条愤怒的巨蟒，“够了。”
笑声立刻停止了。
“随着时间的流逝，我们最古老的家族都变得不太纯净了，”在贝拉克里特斯哀求般的无声注视下，他说，“你必须得剔除掉那些败类来保持家族的健康吧？剔除那些威胁整个家族血统纯净的糟粕部分吧。”
“没错，主人，”贝拉克里特斯轻声说，她的眼中再次充满了感激的泪花，“在第一时间剔除！”
“你应该这样做”，伏地魔说，“你的家族也是，全世界都是……我们都应该剔除掉那些败坏了的部分，直到只留下来的都是纯血统……”
伏地魔扬起卢修斯?马尔福德魔杖，对准了悬挂于桌子上方的躯体，然后轻弹了一下。那个身体呻吟着活了过来，开始试图挣脱在他身上的无形的禁锢。
“你认出了我们的客人吗，西弗勒斯？”伏地魔问道。
斯内普抬起眼睛看着那张倒挂的脸。现在所有的食死徒也开始看着这个俘虏，就好像他们被允许表现出好奇似的。当那个女人脸转到炉火的方向时，她发出了嘶哑而恐惧的声音：“西弗勒斯，救救我！”
“嗯，认识”斯内普答道，那个女人脸又慢慢转开了。
“你呢，德拉科？”伏地魔问，同时用没拿魔杖的那只手敲击着巨蟒的嘴。德拉科剧猛然摇头。现在那个女人已经清醒了，他似乎根本不敢去看她。
“但你不应该上她的课，”伏地魔说，“你们不知道，我们今天能聚在这里都是因为她，查瑞丽?伯比奇，她一直正在霍格沃茨魔法学校任教。”
桌子周围的人恍然大悟，一个身躯高大肥硕的长着尖牙的女人咯咯笑了起来。
“是的……伯比奇教授孩子们麻瓜的知识……麻瓜们是如何与我们不同……”
一个食死徒拍着地板。查瑞丽?伯比奇的脸再次转到了斯内普的方向。
“西弗勒斯……求你……求你……”
“安静！”伏地魔说，又抖动了一下马尔福德魔杖，顿时查瑞丽像被塞住了似的说不出话来，“伯比奇教授并不满足于腐蚀污染有魔法天赋的孩子们，她上周还在预言家日报上发表了一篇热情洋溢的文章，为泥巴种辩护。她说巫师必须该接受那些贼的知识和魔法，伯比奇教授还认为纯血统人的减少是令人满意的……她要我们找麻瓜做伴侣……或者，当然了，还有狼人……”
这次没有人再笑了，伏地魔的声音中透着勿庸置疑的愤怒与蔑视。查瑞丽?伯比奇的脸又一次转向了斯内普，她的眼泪涌了出来，直流到头发里。她再次转开的时候，斯内普冷漠地盯着她的后背。
“阿瓦达索命！”
那道绿光照亮了屋子的每个角落。查瑞丽倒了下去，重重地摔在了下面的桌子上，桌吱吱作响。几个食死徒又坐回到了椅子中，德拉科瘫在了地板上。
“吃晚饭了，纳吉尼”伏地魔轻声说，那只巨蟒慢慢地从他的肩膀上滑向了光亮的木桌。
