17、Gellert Grindelwald ...
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June 30th, 1957
1957年6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 the free wizarding world. Or fear of Voldemort? Or fear that I hit your nail on the head?
上一封信以你一贯的风格看来过于简短了，我是否可以说从中看出了一些你对我的不耐烦？是我也惹你不高兴了吗？又或者你在恐惧那些你不得不做出的选择？毕竟作为秩序散漫的巫师世界中自封的领导者，是一件很烦人的事情。又或者你在害怕伏地魔？还是害怕我说的话正中要害，一针见血？
But never mind that. I want to tell you a story, Albus.
但，永远不要烦恼那些事。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.
当我一如往常那样躺在薄薄的草垫上辗转反侧，直到月亮沉入地平线以下，自狭窄的窗户逃出我的视野；直到某刻突如其来的寒意，如活物一般紧贴着地板潜行而来，我都在沉浸在回忆中游走。我可没有冥想盆那种东西——除了我那块可靠的旧表外这里没有任何魔法物品——但我依然可以回忆。当然，最先浮现在我的脑海中的是——我的旧魔杖，在我找到“它”之前的那根，或是我多年前洗劫的一家麻瓜房屋墙上的一件木艺作品，或是我童年时养的蟾蜍。我常常会重温一些特别的事情来安慰我自己。
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.
我想，我的记忆力还不错，但是这比不上一个冥想盆。所以我们又回到了这个问题——所有这些魔法世界提供的便利，没了它们该怎么办呢。我有时会想，一些记忆已在我的脑海中消磨殆尽——而人们却总说经常回忆反而会巩固这些记忆。或许真的是这样的吧。可是，我已经忘记了一些事。
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.
在我陈旧不堪的记忆中，那是个六月末。阿不福思在屋里陪着阿利安娜。我们沿着戈德里克山谷中那些麻瓜风车的引水渠缓缓散步往回走，从那些老巫师的窗子下偷偷溜过，深入探讨着如何简便地改进血咒中那些死板的规则。我们紧挨着坐下，甩掉靴子，将脚浸入水中，你手中转动着一把银质小刀——你有一双很好看的手——你喃喃地说我们会找到复活石的，我们一定会。
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，一滴血中究竟可以榨出多少魔力？你划破你的拇指，血珠在阳光下红得让我心惊。那画面使我兴奋，我将你的血珠滴上我那根魔杖的杖尖，它渗入木质中消失不见，然后一种看不见的力量激起的悸动传遍了我的全身。妈/的/——这简直太方便了，简直比所有控制一个人的现实和命运的方法都要方便，与那些麻瓜无关，这才是我真正怀念的魔法。我的腑脏因这激荡而沸腾战栗。你一定还有这种感觉，你总是那么强大，天赋是那么耀眼。魔法燃烧在你身体中的每一处，超越了躯壳——经年之后，你还能想起它吗，这种简单而原始的愉悦？
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.
说回回忆。我们坐在那里，你的血渗入我的魔杖，我手腕轻抖，便将一株空心木切成丝带般的碎片，如此轻而易举，又如此强大震撼。之后，你把刀递给了我，我却将刀塞回你的手中，当你用刀刃划过我的指腹时，我们靠得如此的近——毕竟，两个人都要试试。
You lit the water on fire with my blood. You were magnificent.
你用我的血在水面上燃起了火焰。那样瑰丽的魔法，那样瑰丽的你。
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.
我们一边大笑一边做着笔记，然后慢慢把火焰扑灭。我已经在想如何用黑魔法将这种力量进一步强化；我轻声念着咒语。我们毕竟是搭档，但直到现在我们才想起去挖掘彼此内在的强大力量——血，心甘情愿地给予对方，你知道这意味着什么。
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——
我们气喘吁吁地躺在河提上，我的头枕在你的腿上，你的一只手漫不经心的挑起我的金发，手指在发丝间缠绕。阳光绮丽，灌木青茂，染血的银刀在草叶间闪着光。在我们彼此自命不凡的闲聊间，我提出了寻找圣器的事——
"The Stone first," you say.
“先找复活石。”你说。
I shift and look up at you, curious. "Why?"
我翻了个身，好奇地看着你，“为什么？”
"Because once we have that...even the shadow of them, even just the shadow."
“如果我们拥有它的话……仅仅是一个影子，即使只能见到他们的影子也好。”
I bat at dangling strands of your hair like a kitten. "Albus, you're not making sense."
我像只猫儿一样摆弄着你垂下来的发丝。“阿不思，你这样做没有任何意义。”
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。我想，也许你是想让你的父母回来，照顾好阿不福思和阿利安娜，这样你就可以和我一起走了？
How thoughtful. For once, I think, I'm not being sarcastic.
想的真是周到。那时我就是这么想的，这回不是在讽刺你。
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.
然后我们又说了一会，没再说什么重要的事。这并不是我回忆起那天的原因。我回忆起它，是因为你突然站了起来，任我从你的腿上滚下去，然后在周围施了一圈隐匿咒。
It seems so much longer and darker when one has to sit and write it out in full, doesn't it?
当一个人坐着把这件事写出来时，回忆总是变得格外漫长而深刻，不是吗？
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.
如果没记错的话，我们此前曾像小孩子那样探索过彼此的身体，但彼时，在溪水之畔，在魔法的笼罩下，伴随着草丛下的虫鸣和你那被阳光映照的如烈焰般的红发，我们第一次取悦彼此。往事历历在目，却又难以付诸笔端。你一副似笑非笑的狡黠神色，摘下阅读时戴的金丝细边框眼镜，不经意地将一侧镜架略过薄唇，把充满暗示和渴望的眼神投入我的眼中。你将长袍褪下，然后剥下白色棉质的衬衫和里衣裤。我满怀惊异与兴奋地笑着，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.
你那时绝美惊人，我也如此——我看到了你为我迷醉的眼睛。而现在，我们都已衰老，枯槁，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.
我们在灯芯草从旁，躺在脱下来铺在地上的长袍上笨拙地摸索着，像是那些傻乎乎的蚂蚁，晕头涨脑地找不到方向。当我抚摸你的时候，你兴奋的发抖，好像灵魂已经飞离身体。我们都有着白皙的，一丁点刺激就会令它泛红发烫的肌肤。我还记得当我用手紧紧捧着你的脸，凝视着你由于无法承受的快感而失神的面容时，我的心跳得像一个女妖在猛击我的肋骨——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?
我曾将你握在手中，你还记得吗？我的一只手扯着你的头发让你不得不后仰身体，另一只手握着你，而你完全被我撩拨得难以自抑。我让你尖叫出声，你还记得吗？还是说，这依然令你感到羞耻？
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—
你喘息着翻过身，在草地上把沾染上的脏污擦拭掉，绿油油、脏兮兮地转向我，浑身发软，笑着，并且依然不愿停下。我还记得，我翻过身仰卧在那堆袍子上，当你弯下腰，头发轻柔划过我的皮肤，手指亲密地环紧我的根部，嘴唇在上面滑过时，我仿佛被美妙的潮水淹没——
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，大汗淋漓，被阳光亲吻着、浑身脏污的我们笑着，嘀嘀咕咕着异议，像孩子一样困惑着。但有那么一刻——我们并排躺在一起，你的头枕在我的手臂上，我说：“那片云看起来像一头醉醺醺的鹰头马身有翼兽，梅林在上，幸好巴沙特没看到我们现在这个样子，” 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.
这令我夜不能寐，阿不思。它盘桓在我的心头，像蝻钩一样困扰着我。我想到我曾听过的一个故事，一个幽灵忘记了他最爱的一首诗歌的最后一行，只有某位路过的学者将其吟诵它时，他才能得到解脱。而你，老朋友，你有一个冥想盆。
I told you what I knew of the Voldemort lad. You owe me.
别忘了，我告诉过你的伏地魔那小子的事。你还欠着我。
Regards,
真诚问候，
作者有话说第17章 Gellert Grindelwald
