18、The Seventeenth Owl (From GG) 1957. ...
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June 30th, 1957
公元1957年，六月30日
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 free wizarding world. Or fear of Voldemort? Or fear that I hit your nail on the head?
哦，末一封于你可是不同寻常的唐突了。我是否查觉到了一点对我的恼火之意呢？是不是我们的身份互换了，我成了令你生气的？或者你的冒犯是源于对那些你必做的选择的恐惧？毕竟，作为自由巫师界的自封领导人，这一定是件特别棘手的事。或是对伏地魔的恐惧？或是恐惧我的一针见血？
But never mind that. I want to tell you a story, Albus.
但别去为此苦恼了。我想给你讲个故事，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.
当夜晚我躺在我薄薄的床垫上难以成眠时，我常常是，在记忆的海洋里泅游，直至月亮坠到地平线下或是出了我狭小窗户的可视范围内，直至午夜时分的凉意活物似的爬入了我牢房的地板。我没有冥想盆——自然，除了我可靠的旧表，这里没有别的含魔法的物品——但我仍有我的思想。当然，常常是些微不足道的小事先浮上来——在我寻到“它”之前的旧魔杖，或是多年前我所洗劫的一所麻瓜住宅墙上嵌着的木工制品，或是我还是一个孩子时养过的那些蟾蜍。我常常重温一些特殊的事物，以抚慰自己。
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.
我愿认为自己有一个好的记忆力。但没有什么能敌过一个冥想盆。在此我们又兜回来了——又是关于巫师界所有细小的便利，以及失了他们该如何生活的话题。我有时觉得，我脑中的一些记忆已是陈迹模糊了——虽然他们说不断回忆可以加强记忆力。真的吧，也许。但——我仍已忘却了一些事情。
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 conversation 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.
在这残破的记忆中，那是六月底的光景。阿不福思陪着阿利安娜在屋里。我们沿着戈德里克山谷的麻瓜们磨坊边的潺潺小溪，漫不经心地走回。低下头从我们巫师先辈们的窗下穿过，沉浸在关于单独改良血咒谈话法则的交谈里。我们肩并肩地坐着，脱去了靴子，把脚悬在水中荡着，你的手里翻弄着一把小银刀——你有一双美丽的手——你嘀咕说我们将找到复活石的，我们别无选择。
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?
我们想知道，可以从一滴血中榨出多少魔力呢？你将拇指刺破，渗出点点血珠，在阳光下泛着碎钻似的红光。这景象可真真是令我激动。我令其轻轻染上我的杖尖，它便渗入木头的肌理，顷刻间消失了，然后是一阵震颤，一股神秘的力从中射出，我不禁毛骨悚然。可恶——魔力，远远胜过那所谓的便利，远远胜过什么掌控现实与命运的确方法，莫再扯这些麻瓜的无力的疯言疯语了，我就是想煞魔法的——那种源自本能的弹射，以及随之而生的兴奋与激动。你，老朋友，你一定仍保留着这种能力，你那时是多么的强大，天赋又是多么的大放异彩。魔法在你身上的每一个神经上燎过，躯体在一瞬间不复存在——你是否，在隔了这么漫长的岁月之后，仍能品到那份纯粹的、最初的欢欣？
But— the memory. We were there, with your blood in my wand, and I sliced a hollow log to ribbons with 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.
但——记忆，一切只是记忆。我们曾在过那个地方，我的魔杖上还凝着你的血，随着我腕子的轻轻一抖，一段空心原木便那样轻易，那样猛烈的——被削成了碎片。然后你挪近了一点点，把小刀递给我，但我把它硬塞回了你的手里，当刀刃滑过我的指尖时，你我是那样近的倚在一起——毕竟，必须反过来试试。
You lit the water on fire with my blood. You were magnificent.
你用我的血将烈焰在水上燃起。你那时多么光彩照人。
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.
然后我们大笑着，记下笔记，并且慢慢地控下了火势。我早已在想象这绝妙的增强效果被应用于那些至暗的咒语时的画面了；我浅吟着咒语。我们终究是伙伴，可我们在这会儿前却从未想过互相榨取对方体内蕴藏的巨量的资源，那力的宝藏——血，你很清楚它的用途，而你我此时正心甘情愿地把它给了另一个人。
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——
我们一同躺在河畔上，气喘吁吁。我的头枕在你膝上，你饧着眼儿，用一只手随意地凌乱着我的金发，并将其中几缕绕上了你修长的指尖。太阳金黄而澄澈，灌木绿森森的，野趣盎然，血迹斑斑的小刀在草皮上泛着斑驳的光。我们讨论着，轻狂而张扬，我提起了寻找死亡圣器——
" The Stone first," you say.
“先是复活石，”你这样说。
I shift and look up at you, curious." Why?"
我挪了挪，抬起头来看着你，好奇着。“为什么？”
" Because once we have that… even the shadow of them, even just the shadow."
“因为我们一旦有了它……即使是他们的影子，即使只是影子。”
I bat at dangling strands of your hair like a kitten. " Albus, you're not making sense."
我像一只小猫那样有意无意地捋着你垂下的一缕红发。 “阿不思，你在说甚么疯话呢。”
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?
你没有解释。现在想来，觉得，你是不是在希望你的父母回来，以照顾阿不福思和阿利安娜，这样你就可以和我一起逃走了？
How thoughtful. For once, I think, I'm not being sarcastic.
考虑得多么周全啊。我想，破天荒的，这一次我竟不是在嘲讽。
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.
之后我们又谈了一小会子，都不甚要紧。以上都不是我忆起那天的原因。我想起它是因为你突然立起，我从你的腿上滚了下来，然后你踱了一圈儿，布下了隐匿咒语。
It seems so much longer and darker when one has to sit and write it out in full, doesn't it?
一个人不得不坐在角落里把这一切尽付于缃素间的时光，似乎是极其的绵长与惨淡，对吧？
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.
如果记忆不出甚么大错的话，我们在此之前已像个小学生那样占有过彼此，但那时可是在小溪边，隐匿在魔法之下，昆虫在灌丛中吟哦，阳光点燃了你的红发，烈烈地烧了一片，我们初次合一。我对接下来的一切都记得一清二楚，虽说用文字有点难以表达——你轻快地脱下了你阅读用的小金边眼镜，眉宇间闪过一丝诡秘的浅笑，用勾引而饥渴的眼神凝视着我，一只眼镜脚有意无意地掠过你的唇。然后你慢慢滑下层层长袍，剥下了白色的棉质内衣和裤子，我则笑个不住——至少在记忆中如此，讶异而又愉快，告诉你这小溪太浅，不能游泳的。
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.
你当时简直是秀色可餐。余亦如此——我看到你在用饕餮的眼神盯着我就证明了这一点。现在呢，我们可都老朽不堪，无可挽回了，我想。
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 abanshee's against my ribs, because you were mine.
朦胧而惬意的，我们躺在急湍边，笨手笨脚地铺开我们的长袍，蚂蚁在稀里糊涂地咬着其褶边。当我触碰到你时，你兴奋地发抖，似乎马上就要碎成千片。我们都是苍白的动物，一旦心动就极易发红发热，我记得我将你的脸紧紧托在手里，凝视着已被喜悦淹没的你，感到心脏在肋间猛烈地撞击，像有一只女妖在捅，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?
我曾把你掌控在手，记得么？我一只手紧抓着你的头发，把你的头往后拉，另一只手则紧紧掌控着你。你对我而言，完完全全、的的确确非常棘手。我令你尖叫了。记得这一切么？或是你仍在羞愧着？
You panted and rolled over and scrubbed the seed off in the grass, and camp 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—
你喘着，翻了个身，在草丛间把身上的草籽蹭掉，弄得绿渍满身，然后你舒展着身体，不住地笑着，且做事从不半途而废。我记得自己又滚回了长袍间，你向我俯下身，一瞬间我似又坠入了芬芳的湮灭。你的头发在我的皮肤上拂过，手指碰上我，随即是你温热的气息——
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—
过后，我们汗津津的，似被阳光晒透，并且沾满草籽的污渍，像个孩子那样大笑，争辩，犹豫。但是曾有这么一个时刻——我们躺在一处，背贴着背，你的头枕在我伸开的胳膊上，我说：“那鹰头马身有翼兽状的云看上去倒像醉了，感谢上天，真高兴巴沙特看不到我们此刻的样子，”然后你说——
I forget.
我忘了。
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.
这让我现在仍无法入眠，阿不思。这萦绕着我，困扰着我。我模模糊糊地忆起自己曾听过的一个故事，是关于一个忘记自己最喜欢的诗的末一行的幽灵，只有一个旅行的学者将其诵出时方能得到解脱。你呢，老朋友，有一个冥想盆。
I told you what I knew of Voldemort lad. You owe me.
我告诉你了我对伏地魔小鬼所知晓的一切。你可欠我呢。
Regards,
在此致意，
译者注：
1：不行了再修订的时候看到日期有一种被捅了一刀的感觉……一开始以为只是GG在6月底即兴忆起了几十年前同一个日子的往事，没想到AD竟逝于1997. 6. 30……好一个始于夏终于夏的故事。
2：" You were always so strong"第31封信中AD语" you are stronger than me in the end"不知道是不是在回应这一句（悲剧在开始就注定了吗呜呜）
3：“你可欠我呢”GG你这装傻的样子……好想知道AD看到时是什么表情（怪笑）
4：GG你怎么也regards上了（唯一一次！）
作者有话说
第18章 The Seventeenth Owl (From GG)
