时间：02-27 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：8789
"Now ..." said the cold voice.
"But his journey back to me was not smooth, was it, Wormtail? For, hungry one night, on the edge of the very forest where he had hoped to find me, he foolishly stopped at an inn for some food . . . and who should he meet there, but one Bertha Jorkins, a witch from the Ministry of Magic.
"Your winnings," he said shortly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket and dropping it onto Harrys bedside table. "One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances .. ."
"Very - very well," said Madam Pomfrey, looking startled, and she too left.
After about fifty yards, they reached a fork. They looked at each other.
anything. . .
Crouch took a deep, shuddering breath, then began to speak in a flat, expressionless voice.
Moody helped tip the stuff down Harrys throat; he coughed, a peppery taste burning his throat. Moody's office came into sharper focus, and so did Moody himself. ... He looked as white as Fudge had looked, and both eyes were fixed unblinkingly upon Harry's face.
"You dueled with the Dark Lord?"
"The window was open," said Harry. "I opened it to breathe."
"Very well," he said, sitting down again. "Voldemort has overcome that particular barrier. Harry, continue, please."
"How did your father subdue you?" said Dumbledore.
He crammed his bowler hat onto his head and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The moment he had disappeared, Dumbledore turned to look at the group around Harry's bed.
"Someone's coming," he said suddenly.
As the closest bead of light moved nearer to Harrys wand tip, the wood beneath his fingers grew so hot he feared it would burst into flame. The closer that bead moved, the harder Harry's wand vibrated; he was sure his wand would not survive contact with it; it felt as though it was about to shatter under his fingers -He concentrated every last particle of his mind upon forcing the bead back toward Voldemort, his ears full of phoenix song, his eyes furious, fixed . . . and slowly, very slowly, the beads quivered to a halt, and then, just as slowly, they began to move the other way . . . and it was Voldemort's wand that was vibrating extra-hard now . . .
There was a loud crack, and the shape-shifter exploded in a wisp of smoke. The silver stag faded from sight. Harry wished it could have stayed, he could have used some company...but he moved on, quickly and quietly as possible, listening hard, his wand held high once more.
"No," Harry called back, panting. He looked down at his leg. It was bleeding freely. He could see some sort of thick, gluey secretion from the spider's pincers on his torn robes. He tried to get up, but his leg was shaking badly and did not want to support his weight. He leaned against the hedge, gasping for breath, and looked around.？