18、第十七只猫头鹰 ...
-
June 30th, 1957
Albus—
阿不思——
Oh, that last was unusually brusque for you. Do I detect a hint of annoyance at me? Have I upset you in turn? Or is it fear at these choices you must make? Such a bother it must be, after all, to be the self-appointed leader of the free wizarding world. Or fear of Voldemort? Or fear that I hit your nail on the head?
上一封信有些不同于寻常的简短了。我是察觉到了一丝你对我的不满了吗？我是又惹你生气了吗？或是说，你在畏惧着这些迫不得已要做出选择？这确实很令人心烦，毕竟你非要把责任揽在肩上，在这种境况下去当一个自封的领导者。又或者是你在害怕伏地魔？还是说你难以承受我这些一针见血的话？
But never mind that. I want to tell you a story, Albus.
但，别去在意那些了。我想给你讲一个故事，阿不思。
When I lie awake at night on my thin mattress, as I so often do, until the moon sinks behind the horizon or out of sight of my narrow window, until the witching-hour chill creeps along the floor of my cell like a living thing, I swim through memories. I have no Pensieve, of course—nothing magical in here but my trusty old watch—but I still have my mind. Often, of course, it is the little things that come up first—my old wand, before I found It, or the woodwork in the walls of a Muggle house I sacked years ago, or the toads I kept as a child. And often I relive particular things, to console myself.
夜晚，当我躺在一层薄薄的床垫上，就像以往那样，清醒着，直到寒意如同活物一般潜伏在地底；直到目睹月光坠落，从狭窄的窗缝间抽离，我便会又一次陷入回忆。我并没有冥想盆，自然——这里除了我那块可靠的旧手表之外，也不可能存在任何与魔法有关的东西——但我至少还拥有记忆。回忆里常会先浮现出我的旧魔杖——我在找到它之前所用的那根，或是多年前我洗劫的一个麻瓜家中墙上的木制品，抑或是孩提时代我曾驯养过的那只蟾蜍。我常常重温这些特别的事情，以此试图给自己带来些许慰藉。
I would like to think I have a good memory. But it is nothing compared to a Pensieve. Here we are again—all those little conveniences of the wizarding world, and how to do without them. There are some memories I sometimes imagine must be worn thin in my mind—and yet they say that constant reminders strengthen a memory. True, perhaps. And yet—I've forgotten something.
我想我的记忆力还算不错，但这远不足以和冥想盆相比。我们又绕回来了——关于这些魔法世界里诸多小小的便利，以及如何不再依赖于它们。总有一些记忆在我脑海里模糊了痕迹——但人们总说反复回忆可以抵抗遗忘。也许真是这样，也许吧。可是——我已然忘记了一段旧事。
It is late June, here in this worn-out memory. Aberforth is inside with Ariana. We amble back out along the mill stream that the Muggles of Godric's Hollow use, ducking under the windows of our wizarding elders, deep in conversation about singlehandedly revising the conservation laws of blood magic. We sit side by side and strip off our boots and dangle our feet in the water, and you turn a silver knife over in your hand—beautiful hands, you have—and you mutter that we'll find the Stone, we have to.
在我残破不堪的记忆里，那似乎是个六月末。阿不福思陪小安娜待在屋里，我们则沿着戈德里克山谷里那些磨坊前的溪流漫步。我们会从那些老巫师的窗下溜过，深入探讨如何精简血咒里那些古板的法则；我们曾脱掉靴子紧挨着坐在一起，把脚浸在水中，你手里握着一把银质的小刀——在那漂亮又细长的指间——你喃喃着说我们会找到复活石的，我们一定会的。
How much magical power, we wonder, can we milk out of one drop of blood? You prick your thumb, and it beads, terrible rich red in the sunlight. The sight of it excites me. I let it stain the tip of my wand, and it wicks into the wood and vanishes and the thrum of power sets my hair on end. Scheisse—even more than the convenience, even more than the proper ways of controlling one's reality and destiny, none of this impotent Muggle nonsense, that's what I miss about magic. The visceral thrums and thrills of it. You, you must still have it, and you were always so strong, talent so bright. Magic burning in every fiber of your body, transcending flesh—do you still notice it after all these long years, the simple primal exhilaration of it?
我们好奇着从一滴血中能够榨出多少魔力？于是你刺破了拇指，血滚成珠，在阳光下闪得鲜红。那画面让我兴奋了。我用杖尖沾上它，血滴便钻入了木质中，随之而来的那股力量令我头皮发麻。他妈的，这简直太方便了，远超其他那些用来控制一个人本质与命运的办法。这不是麻瓜们口中荒唐的胡话，这是我怀念已久的魔力，这是直至肺腑的激荡与共鸣。而你，你也一定还保留着它，你是那样智勇过人、才华横溢。魔法之焰在你身体的每一寸经脉里燃烧、流溢——即使是经过这么多年，你也仍旧能触动到那份最初的欢欣吗？
But—the memory. We were there, with your blood in my wand, and I sliced a hollow log to ribbons with a flick of my wrist, so easy, so powerful. And then you went to hand me the knife, but I forced it back into your hand, leaned very close as you slid the blade across the pad of my thumb—must try it in reverse, after all.
当时，我们坐在那里，你的血流淌进我的魔杖里。我手腕一抖，便将一段空心木切成碎片，那样轻而易举，又是那样震撼有力。然后你将刀递给我，但我把它塞了回去，刀刃划过我指腹的时候，我们是靠得如此之近。
You lit the water on fire with my blood. You were magnificent.
你用我的血在水面上燃起火焰。你是那般流光溢彩。
We laugh and take notes, then, and slowly tamp down the fire. I am already imagining that glorious amplification applied to the Darkest spells; I hum incantations under my breath. We are partners, after all, and we had never thought until now to tap into the massive resource of power latent within each other—blood, willingly given to another, you know what that can do.
我们笑着记下笔记，然后慢慢把火扑灭。我轻声念着咒语，已经在想象着如何用黑魔法来让这焰火燃得更猛烈些了。我们是搭档，我们直到现在才想起去发掘源于彼此灵魂最深处的强大力量——自愿将血液赠与对方，你知道那意味着什么。
We lie panting together on the riverbank. My head is in your lap, and you scruff my hair absentmindedly with one hand, twirling strands around your fingers. The sun is bright, the brush green and wild, the bloodstained knife glimmering on the turf. We patter on, vainglorious, and when I mention looking for the Hallows—
我们气喘吁吁地躺倒在河堤上。我枕在你腿上，你用一只手心不在焉地理着我的头发，发丝在指尖缠绕。阳光明媚，灌木恣意盎然，沾着血的小刀在草地上闪闪发光。我们畅谈少年时那些自负的憧憬，直到我提起了寻找死亡圣器——
"The Stone first," you say.
“先找复活石。”你是这样说的。
I shift and look up at you, curious. "Why?"
我好奇着，转过来抬头望着你，“为什么？”
"Because once we have that...even the shadow of them, even just the shadow."
“只要我们拥有它……即使见到的是他们的影子，就算是影子也好。”
I bat at dangling strands of your hair like a kitten. "Albus, you're not making sense."
我像只幼猫一样拨弄着你的发丝，漫不经心地呢喃着：“阿不思，你到底在说些什么啊……”
You didn't explain. I suppose, thinking about it, that you wanted your parents back, to take care of Aberforth and Ariana, so you could run off with me?
你当时没有解释。我后来想着，以为你大概希望它能将你的双亲带回来，让他们来照顾阿不福思和安娜，这样你就可以和我私奔了？
How thoughtful. For once, I think, I'm not being sarcastic.
考虑得多周到啊。也就这一次，我是这样想着。这不是在挖苦什么。
We spoke for a while after that, about nothing important. It's not why I think of that day. I think of it because you stood, suddenly, rolling me out of your lap, and paced a circle of concealing charms.
之后我们又说了一会，但没什么重要的。但这并不是我想起那天的原因。我记起它，是因为你突然间站了起来，我从你膝头滚了下去，看见你在周围施起了一圈隐匿咒。
It seems so much longer and darker when one has to sit and write it out in full, doesn't it?
一个人独自将这些付于纸上的时光，是何等的煎熬和漫长。
We had groped at each other like schoolchildren before then, if memory serves, but it was there by the stream, cloaked by magic, with the insects buzzing in the undergrowth and the sun making your hair like fire, that we first came together. I remember with perfect clarity, though find it difficult to describe, the sly half-smile you wore as you slipped off your little gold reading glasses, dragging one earpiece unconscious over your lips as you stared at me, beckoning and hungry. And then you were sliding off your robes, peeling back white cotton undershirt and drawers, and I remember laughing, startled and gleeful, and telling you it was too shallow for swimming.
如果我没记错的话，在这之前，我们曾像两个初学的孩子一样抚摸过彼此的身体，但只有那次是在河畔，只有那次隐匿在了魔法里。和着荫蔽灌木中的虫鸣，阳光淌在你发间，映出火焰一般的色彩。那是我们第一次承受彼此。我记得如此清晰，却也是那样难以说明。你狡黠地笑着，摘下阅读时所戴的那副金丝眼镜，一只镜脚在凝望间擦过唇边，眸中填满了诱惑与饥渴。然后你将长袍褪下，脱掉白色的棉质内衣和短裤。我那时笑着，又惊又喜，告诉你这里水太浅了，不能游泳。
You were beautiful then. So was I—I watched you drinking in the sight of me. We're both old and withered and unforgivable now, I suppose.
你那时美得惊人，而我亦是——我曾在你沉醉的眼睛中读到了这一切。而我们如今都已老了，都已腐朽，都已枯槁，是如此的不可救药。
We fumbled idyllically near the rushes, laid out on our robes as the ants picked bewildered at their hems. You shook with joy, like you'd fly apart, when I touched you. We're both pale creatures, and flushed easy and hot with pleasure, and I remember holding your face very tight in my hands and staring as ecstatic arousal overwhelmed you, and feeling my heart banging like a banshee's against my ribs, because you were mine.
我们在灯芯草丛边笨手笨脚地摸索着，把长袍铺在地上，蚂蚁在一旁团团乱转。我抚摸你时，你舒服得发抖，几乎像是灵魂脱离了身体。我们都有着白皙的、经不起触碰皮肤，受到一点刺激就容易兴奋地发烫。我记得我紧紧捧着你的脸，凝视你因为难以承受的快感而失神的面庞时，我的心跳像只女妖一样抨击着我的肋骨。而这一切，都只因为你是我的。
I took you in hand, do you remember? I tugged your head back by the hair with one hand and took you in the other, and you were perfectly, absolutely hard for me. I made you scream. Do you remember? Or are you still too ashamed?
我当时把你握在手里，还记得吗？我拽着你的头发，另一手握着你，你因这个姿势不得不向后仰着头，彻彻底底地为我而情动着。你被我撩拨得几乎尖叫，记得吗？还是你仍旧为此而感到羞耻呢？
You panted and rolled over and scrubbed the seed off in the grass, and came up green spattered and loose-limbed and laughing, and never did things by halves. I remember tumbling back amongst our robes into some sort of delicious oblivion as you bent over me, hair on my skin, ring of your fingers clamped down tight round the base of my prick as you slid your lips round—
你气喘吁吁地翻了个身，在草地上蹭掉那些种子，身上沾满了绿色的汁液，笑着，手脚发软，但没有停下。当我翻身躺在那堆袍子上时，你朝我俯下身，发丝散落在皮肤上，手指环紧我，嘴唇自上轻柔地划过——
Afterwards, sweaty and sun-kissed and seed-stained, we laughed and demurred and boggled like children. But there was this one moment—we were lying together, side by side on our backs, your head pillowed on my outstretched arm, and I said, "That cloud looks like a drunken hippogriff, and dear heavens am I glad Bagshot can't see us right now," and then you said—
最后，我们大笑着，浑身蹭满种子，已经湿透了。我们躺在阳光下，也像孩子一般困惑着、争论着。那个时候——我们肩并肩躺在一起，你枕在我怀里，我说，“那朵云看起来像是只喝醉了的鹰头马身有翼兽，天哪，我真庆幸巴沙特看不见我们现在这个样子，”然后你说——
I forget.
我给忘了。
This keeps me up, Albus. This haunts me, naggles me. I seem to recall hearing a story once, of a ghost who forgot the last line of his favorite poem, could only be put to rest when a traveling scholar recited it. And you, old friend, have a Penseive.
这些回忆令我难以入睡，阿不思。它纠缠着我，困扰着我。我似乎记起了一个曾经听过的故事——一个幽灵忘记了他最爱的诗的中的最后一行，只有当一位过路的学者将它诵念而出时，幽灵才能够得到解脱。而你，我的老朋友，你拥有一个冥想盆。
I told you what I knew of the Voldemort lad. You owe me.
我可告诉了你伏地魔的事，你欠着我呢。
Regards,
诚挚的问候，
作者有话说
第18章 第十七只猫头鹰
