时间：02-25 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：3599
"Harry? Are you still with us?" asked Hermione.
Malfoy opened his copy of Advanced Potion-Making with a sulky expression. It could not have been plainer that he thought this les-son was a waste of time. Undoubtedly, Harry thought, watching him over the top of his own book, Malfoy was begrudging the time he could otherwise be spending in the Room of Requirement.
The house-elf bowed low and addressed his own gnarled toes. "Master said he wanted regular reports on what the Malfoy boy is doing, so Kreacher has come to give--"
"What on earth is more important than this memory, Harry?" asked Hermione.
"So I wanted to know how come he's up at the castle with a couple of girlfriends while everyone else is down here. ..."
"Why?" said Harry at once, looking up into Dumbledore's face. "Why did he come back? Did you ever find out?"
"Not bad," said Harry. "They say he'll be okay."
A hot, prickly feeling of shame spread from the top of Harry’s head all the way down his body. Dumbledore had not raised his voice, he did not even sound angry, but Harry would have preferred him to yell; this cold disappointment was worse than anything.
"What’re you doing here?" he said, scrambling to his feet again; why did she always have to find him lying on the floor?
"Very good," said Dumbledore. "Now, you will remember, I hope, that I told you at the very outset of these meetings of ours that we would be entering the realms of guesswork and speculation?"
"Secondly, the castle is a stronghold of ancient magic. Undoubtedly Voldemort had penetrated many more of its secrets than most of the students who pass through the place, but he may have felt that there were still mysteries to unravel, stores of magic to tap.
"Oh, he definitely wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job," said Dumbledore. "The aftermath of our little meeting proved that. You see, we have never been able to keep a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for longer than a year since I refused the post to Lord Voldemort."
Harry aimed his wand at Peeves and said, "Langlock!" Peeves clutched at his throat, gulped, then swooped from the room making obscene gestures but unable to speak, owing to the fact that his tongue had just glued itself to the roof of his mouth.
He could not think of an argument against it; after all, McLaggen had certainly performed second-best in the trials.
"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.