时间：02-21 来源：转载自澎湃新闻 浏览量：3286
"Yes, they were talking about Nevilles parents," said Dumbledore. "His father, Frank, was an Auror just like Professor Moody. He and his wife were tortured for information about Voldemort's whereabouts after he lost his powers, as you heard."
"Get on with it," sneered Moody.
A grin flashed across Sirius's thin face.
"But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?"
Mr. Crouch's voice faded. Harry looked around; the dungeon was dissolving as though it were made of smoke; everything was fading; he could see only his own body - all else was swirling darkness. . . .
"No, it's not that," said Moody, "it's just that Potter wants a word with you, Dumbledore. He's just outside the door."
"We weren't talking." Harry finished the sentence for him. "Yeah, but blackmail..."
"What's so urgent?" he heard Snape hiss at Karkaroff.
"Hang on," said Hagrid, looking down into the crate, "there's a spare niffler here . . .
"Oh . . ." he said, the memory coming back to him at last. "I dunno ... I never noticed it had gone. I was more worried about my wand, wasn't I?"
There were titters from the crowd.
"I want to talk now, while you can't slip off, Severus. You've been avoiding me."
"Master is needing his - hie - Winky!" whimpered the elf. "Master cannot - hic - manage - hic - all by himself. . . ."
"Of course he isn't!" said Professor Trelawney, looking thoroughly excited. Her great eyes loomed over Harry, gazing at him. "What was it. Potter? A premonition? An apparition? What did you see?"
And then, the dungeon returned. Harry was sitting in a different seat, still on the highest bench, but now to the left side of Mr. Crouch. The atmosphere seemed quite different: relaxed, even cheerful. The witches and wizards all around the walls were talking to one another, almost as though they were at some sort of sporting event. Harry noticed a witch halfway up the rows of benches opposite. She had short blonde hair, was wearing magenta robes, and was sucking the end of an acid-green quill. It was, unmistakably, a younger Rita Skeeter. Harry looked around; Dumbledore was sitting beside him again, wearing different robes. Mr. Crouch looked more tired and somehow fiercer, gaunter. . . . Harry understood. It was a different memory, a different day ... a different trial.