第13章（2/2）

June 30th, 1957

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

上一封信有些不同于寻常的简短了。我是察觉到了一丝你对我的不满了吗？我是又惹你生气了吗？或是说，你在畏惧着这些迫不得已要做出选择？这确实很令人心烦，毕竟你非要把责任揽在肩上，在这种境况下去当一个自封的领导者。又或者是你在害怕伏地魔？还是说你难以承受我这些一针见血的话？

But never mind that. I want to tell you a story, Albus.

但，别去在意那些了。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 thate 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.

夜晚，当我躺在一层薄薄的床垫上，就像以往那样，清醒着，直到寒意如同活物一般潜伏在地底；直到目睹月光坠落，从狭窄的窗缝间抽离，我便会又一次陷入回忆。我并没有冥想盆，自然——这里除了我那块可靠的旧手表之外，也不可能存在任何与魔法有关的东西——但我至少还拥有记忆。回忆里常会先浮现出我的旧魔杖——我在找到它之前所用的那根，或是多年前我洗劫的一个麻瓜家中墙上的木制品，抑或是孩提时代我曾驯养过的那只蟾蜍。我常常重温这些特别的事情，以此试图给自己带来些许慰藉。

I would like to think I have a good memory. But it is nothingpared to a Pensieve. Here we are again—all those little conveniences of the wizarding world, and how to do without thewww. 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 otten something.

我想我的记忆力还算不错，但这远不足以和冥想盆相比。我们又绕回来了——关于这些魔法世界里诸多小小的便利，以及如何不再依赖于它们。总有一些记忆在我脑海里模糊了痕迹——但人们总说反复回忆可以抵抗遗忘。也许真是这样，也许吧。可是——我已然忘记了一段旧事。