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- 第34章 no time
我的表彻底坏了,我不再知道时间了。我不在乎。那个小暴发户要来找我了?太好了!几十年间最好的消息!以及我很喜欢你告诉我这个,甚至懒得撒谎。你知道我会为你处理这个的,不是吗?
五十年了,阿不思,50[字迹潦草难辨]如果你离去了,我要怎么忍受呢?如果你崩溃了,如果你真的像是你一直以来喜欢假装的那样疯了呢?你因为这种事或者那种事而不肯来信就够糟的了,因为你总是太忙了没空写,因为你认为我希望你别来信为什么我会希望你别来信啊,因为你没时间。
总是没时间,到现在你还说你没时间。别撒谎了,过来,面对我啊。
伏地魔?把他送来吧,把那条小蛇送上这儿来。你教过我大脑封闭术的,我会透过我漏风的牙对他撒谎,然后对着他的脸大笑——哦,距离有张不错的脸能笑也多了好多年,毕竟我很多年没见过一张脸了。或者他会又快又安静地杀了我吗,他不会吗,因为我本该恐惧死亡吗?我们想要掌握的那个死亡?本应成为我们统治世界的第三位盟友的那个死亡?你觉得他会不会因为在安乐死别人的时候被抓了个现行而觉得羞耻呢?我想要对着他大笑,大笑,大笑——
是你教我大脑封闭术的,千年之前,在戈德里克山谷。你的意念是金红色的,足以点燃火焰,不得不把它关在外面是件痛苦的事。你搭在魔杖上的手指又细又长。那时候我们在一起,世界如此美好,水流清澈,然后她死了——
他的意念尝起来不会很好,不是吗?我应该不会只是因为又看到了一个人类而昏倒吧?我会为你而做一次正确的事吗?而你会几年后,在终于厌倦了再次洗牌和改变世界之后,把“它”带到你的坟墓里吧。你这个自负又美丽的混蛋。
记得吗,我即使在酷刑下也能笑得出来。他永远都不会得到“它”。看着我吧,阿不思,我已经放弃,也已经发疯了。现在去对着你的雪利酒泣诉你想要的一切吧。我总是隐隐希望着你能够有勇气对我坦白——
你在自责后发问。好吧,我现在已经疯了,所以大概告诉你也没关系。几十年来,阿不思,我几十年来都因罪孽而想要呕吐。麻瓜在我的梦中尖叫。我会想起一行行被我杀死的尸体、被我抛下的他们的家庭。尸体被掩埋,有个披着红色披肩的女孩不肯停止尖叫。她已经死去有五十年了,可她还是不肯停止尖叫。你觉得我为什么要那样抓紧你呢?因为你那时候或多或少地比我要好一些吧。
当然,你一直都知道这一切。你知道我后悔,你知道我恨我自己,恨我所做过的事。就像你知道我会为了你关于“它”的愚蠢计划而死,就像你知道我会在你想要我回信的时候回信,就像你知道我从我们相遇那天起就爱上了你。
而你一定得杀了那个男孩,你一定不能在意我。波特和我都是你献祭的羔羊,去为了伏地魔和更伟大的利益而点燃祭品吧。
但我在说些什么呢?你是个迷人的老头,心地善良,甚至很可爱。而我是个孤独而悔恨着的老罪人。曾经麻瓜们向着我伸出的魔杖走来,他们在“它”前面排成行,他们的赤足恐慌地在地上摩擦出痕迹,直到我露出冰冷的微笑,举起魔杖,发出一片宛如极光般流转的绿光。美丽而令人战栗。每当我想起那些,我的肠子里就会传来撕扯的感觉。
这是我最后的几片羊皮纸了,我将会在墙上写。我希望伏地魔那小子能在我因为家养小精灵死去而饿死之前过来,这样死会更好一点。我在这个房间里呆了五十年,在这个房间里直到永远,我把我的手指在门上的铭牌上擦出了血——
告诉我发生了什么,如果有必要的话,如果你实在没时间写下来,就去找根该死的速记羽毛笔来,告诉我究竟他妈的发生什么了,就是别把我丢在这儿,我都让你赢了别把我丢在这儿——
你难道不是因为悔恨才去重整一个魂器的吗?那就是你询问的原因吗?你还在意别的什么吗?那些让你举步难行的情感还有什么别的作用呢?悔恨。要小心啊。我想求你和我一起乘风而行,阿不思,可我们实在是太老太老,也都支离破碎了。
回答我阿不思别把我丢在这儿如果我用我的血来书写并恳求你的话你会注意到吗?
但我从来都不知道你是怎么看我的,我知道吗?我只知道你不恨我。阿不思邓布利多,你真的知道你对别人做了什么吗?
但你一定……
我的头发乱七八糟,纠缠成一团。老鼠们又爬回来了——好吧,他们从几年前就这么做了,但他们变得更大胆了,嚼碎了我的书,我的牙上沾了它们的血。不,伏地魔先生,我从未拥有过老魔杖,滚吧,去死吧,毕竟这还不错,你看,我现在就可以为了我爱的人这么做。我为你而死。
但我猜你认为黑巫师是不会爱人的,对吗?
或许你错了。
羊皮纸用尽了,没法再加一页纸。寄给我更多的好吗?别把我丢在这儿。
盖勒特格林德沃
作者有话要说:
最让人感动的一封了。。。
没有具体时间。。。
粗体字打不出来正是可惜。。。
第35章 1997821
1997年8月21日
送回猫头鹰给寄件者。收件人,阿不思珀西瓦尔伍尔弗里克布赖恩邓布利多,已故。
致以哀悼。
魔法部猫头鹰办公室
作者有话要说:
return owl to sender recipient, albus percival wulfric brian dumbledore, deceased
第36章 终
seeker s fear和hallowing ns,可惜翻不出来了。
1945年,邓布利多因打败黑巫师格林德沃而闻名于世。这就是开始。以下是上文提及的番外一,我将不再翻译(英语不好的亲憋打我)
two miles out of the village in midsummer, godric“s hollow is hot and green and golden in the late evening, with gnats buzzing harmless in the shadows and the setting sun pouring strange colors through the leaves the boys walk almost in lockstep, almost hand in hand, robes tugged open round their throats--and there“s a bruise in the hollow of albus“ neck, hidden by long hair glowing lurid in the late light
"are you," he asks quietly, "afraid of death"
"not particularly," says gellert, flippant he“s squinting into the setting sun, all golden "i don“t see the point"
"it was something in one of the old poems i was reading this morning--that those who seek the hallows do so out of a fear of death and should be pitied"
"ahh, i see where your point lies butno, not particularly not more than is natural for a living thing a wall looms to cut off my existence, surely, the sun always sets yes, the thought of ending with my work undone is aggravating--but do i fear what is part of the very fabric of reality pointless struggling, that"
"there are those who say it is more like a ragged veil, tantalizingly thin, drawn across" albus“ voice is calm and a little cold; there has, after all, been more death in his past than in gellert“s
"a fine metaphor, but such rarely alter my sentiments" gellert flashes a very sharp grin "the inherent logic would seem to be that those who wish to master death do so because they are afraid of it and what it can do to themselves or their own, yes and that those who do not overly fear it would leave well enough alone"
"that would seem to be the case, yes"
"hmm"
they walk on gellert kicks stones with his pointed german shoes; albus is chewing on a blade of grass the sun is blood-red between the hills
"but," gellert says after a long while, and touches his friend“s elbow, halting his step and drawing him close "but, albus--" and he grabs a thick handful of albus“ hair, no warning, and tugs, sending him stumbling to his knees in the dirt gellert □□iles, murmurs, "i don“t need to be afraid of something in order to master it"
there“s naked, tender shock on albus“ face, breaking through his usual reserve, and the grass slips unheeded from his lips gellert strokes his cheek, gently, even as he holds his head tight by the hair, and slowly slips off his glasses and watches his eyes unfocus--half-blinded without them, and with the narrow muscles of his throat bare and straining
"i“m not particularly afraid of you, either," he whispers, standing closer, until albus is plastered up against his legs, face to his groin "but what about you, fellow-seeker do you fear death"
"as the moth fears the flame," albus breathes