汉译英会让我们充分意识到自己的经典作家的巨大差异，也会激活很多复杂的词的用法。今天早上我进行了哈利波特第7部第一章后面的翻译练习：大家和墨尔本文波雅思一起坚持，雅思分数会给你回报的。
下面开始：
“主人，关于这点，我也有一个好消息。我历尽千辛万苦，终于成功地对毕尤斯?底克尼斯施了夺魂咒。”
亚克斯利周围的许多人看起来十分欣喜，坐在他旁边的，那个长着一张长长的、扭曲的脸的多洛霍夫甚至在他的肩上拍了几下。
“那仅仅是一个开始，”伏地魔说，“仅仅底克尼斯一个人是不够的。在我行动之前，我们必须包围斯克林杰，取部长性命行动中的任何一次失败都会让我退后一大步。”
“是的，主人，确实如此，但是你也知道，作为魔法执行司的司长，底克尼斯不但可以经常与部长本人联系而且可以和部里各个部门的领导联系。我想，现在有一个这样的高层官员在我们的控制之下，这对我们制服他人是很有利的。然后我们就可以利用他们把斯克林杰搞下台。”
“不管我们的朋友底克尼斯在他把剩下的人拉下水之前是否会被发现，”伏地魔说，“无论如何，在下周六之前我们拿下魔法部都还不是稳操胜券的。如果我们不能在终点截到那个男孩，那么我们就必须在途中下手。”
“我们在这方面有优势，主人。”亚克斯利说，他似乎很想得到别人的认可，“我们在魔法运输司安插了几个人，如果波特幻影显形或者使用飞路网，我们立刻就会知道。”
“他不会用这其中的任何一种方式，”斯内普说，“凤凰社不会使用任何被魔法部控制或管理的运输方式，他们对与那个地点有关的一切都保持着怀疑。”
“那反而更好，”伏地魔说，“那他就得在室外被转移，我们就能更容易抓到他了。”
伏地魔又抬头看了看那个缓慢旋转的身体，接着说道：“我要亲自对付那男孩。跟哈利?波特有关的计划漏洞百出，这其中也有些是我自己所造成的。波特那小子能活到现在，与其说是他的胜利，不如说是因为我所犯下的错误。”
桌边的人都胆战兢兢的看着伏地魔，从每个人的表情可以看出，他们都害怕伏地魔将哈利能存活至今怪罪于自己。然而，伏地魔却更像是在自言自语，而且眼睛仍然盯着那具没有知觉的身体。
“我太大意了，也被自己完美计划中的运气和机遇这类致命问题所耽误了。但我现在明白了，明白了过去我所没有明白的东西。杀死波特的人必须是我，也一定会是我！”
话音刚落，突然响起了一声尖利绵长而又充满痛苦的哀号，好像是对这番话所做出的回应。桌边的许多人都震惊地朝桌子下面望去，那声音好像是从他们脚下发出来的。
“虫尾巴，”伏地魔用刚才那种平静、沉思的语调说道，眼镜依旧盯着上面那个旋转的身体，“我难道没有告诉过你要让我们的犯人保持安静吗？”
“是的，主……主人”，桌子中间的一个矮小的男人气喘吁吁地说。他刚才坐得太低了，以至于乍眼看去，他的椅子像是空的。他从椅子上爬起来，跑过房间，身后留下了一道奇特的银色微光。
“就像我刚才所说的那样，”伏地魔看着他那些神色慌张的追随者接着说，“我现在已经明白了，在杀死波特之前，我需要做些事情，比如，向你们中的某人借一根魔杖。”
伏地魔周围的所有脸孔一瞬间全部写满了震惊，就好像他所要借的是他们的一只胳膊似的。
“没有人自愿么？”伏地魔说，“让我来看看……卢修斯，我觉得你不再需要魔杖了。”
卢修斯?马尔福抬起头来。他的皮肤在火光里显得蜡黄蜡黄的，深陷的眼睛周围笼罩着阴影，他张开嘴，发出来嘶哑的声音。
“主人？”
“你的魔杖，卢修斯，我要你的魔杖。”
“我……”
马尔福瞥了一眼身旁的妻子。她目不转睛的盯着前方，脸色和她的丈夫一样苍白，她长长的金发垂在背上，然而在桌子下面，她纤细的手指轻轻地碰了一下他的手腕。因为妻子的这一碰，卢修斯把手伸进长袍，抽出魔杖，交给了伏地魔。伏地魔把魔杖举到了腥红色眼睛前，细细地观察着。
“是用什么做的？”
“榆木，主人。”卢修斯轻声说道。
“杖芯呢？”
“龙……龙心腱。”
“很好，”伏地魔说，他把自己的魔杖拿出来比了比长度。卢修斯?马尔福不自主地移动了一下，有那么一刻，他看起来似乎在盼望伏地魔会把自己的魔杖交给他。他这一动没有逃过伏地魔的眼睛，他充满敌意地睁大了眼镜。
“把我的魔杖给你，卢修斯？我的魔杖？”
人群中发出了一阵窃笑。
“我已经给了你自由，卢修斯，这难道还不够么？但我发现你和你的家人好像不太开心啊，是因为我的出现而使你失去了职位，你感到不开心了么，卢修斯？”
“没，没有，主人！”
“别撒谎了，卢修斯……”
伏地魔残忍的嘴唇已经不动了，但似乎还有声音在嘶嘶作响。当嘶嘶声变得更响，一两个食死徒禁不住轻轻颤抖时，可以听见一个很沉重的东西从桌下滑过的声音。
一条巨蛇缓缓地爬上伏地魔的椅子。它一点点向上移动，长长的身子似乎没有尽头，然后它缠在伏地魔的肩头上休息了。它的脖子有人的大腿那么粗，它的眼睛和伏地魔一样，有着竖直的细缝，眨也不眨。伏地魔用他细长的手指心不在焉地敲击着它，目光仍旧盯着卢修斯?马尔福。
“为什么马尔福一家那么不高兴呢？我的回归，我重新掌权，不正是他们这么多年来一直宣称所渴望的事情吗？”
“当然是的，主人，” 卢修斯?马尔福说，他的手颤抖着擦去上唇的汗珠，“我们过去渴望——现在仍旧如此。”
在马尔福的左边，他的妻子奇怪地、僵硬地点了点头，把视线从从伏地魔和那条大蛇身上移开。在他的右边，他的儿子德拉科，在这之前一直盯着头上悬着的身体，他瞥了一眼伏地魔后就立刻把目光移开了，他害怕与伏地魔对视。
“主人，”桌子中间的一个皮肤黝黑女人激动地说，“你能到这里，到我们家族的房子里来，是我们莫大的荣幸，再也没有比这更令人高兴的事情了。”
她坐在自己的妹妹旁边，两人一点都不像，她那深黑的头发和耷拉的眼睑使她看起来好像在承受着什么；纳西莎则冷漠僵硬地坐着，而贝拉克里特斯的身体倾向伏地魔，好像光是语言还不足以表达她对与伏地魔亲近的渴望似的。
“没有比这更令人高兴的事情了，”伏地魔重复道，他的头略微向她转了一下，“这太有意义了，贝拉克里特斯，对你来说。”
她的脸上充满了欣喜，热泪盈眶。
“主人知道我说的是实话！”
“没有比这更令人高兴的事情了……比那件这周发生在你家的喜事还更令你高兴吗？”
她盯着他，嘴张了张，显然很困惑。
“主人，我不知道您在说什么”
“我说的是你的侄女，贝拉克里特斯。也是你们的侄女，卢修斯和纳西莎。她刚和一个狼人结婚了，就是那个莱姆斯?卢平。你肯定感到很骄傲了。”
桌子周围爆发出了一阵嘲笑声，很多人相互交换了愉快的眼神，还有几个人用拳头捶打着桌子。桌下的巨蟒张大了嘴愤怒地嘶嘶叫着，表示对这阵骚动的抗议。但食死徒们根本没在意，继续嘲笑着贝拉克里特斯和马尔福家族的耻辱。贝拉克里特斯那刚刚还充满了喜悦的脸色瞬间变得羞红而丑陋。
“主人，我们没有这样的侄女，”她在那阵大笑声中她奋力喊着，“我们——纳西莎和我——自从我们的妹妹嫁给了那个泥巴种后，我们就再也没有正眼瞧过她。这个小杂种根本没有做过对一件对我们有用的事，对她嫁的那个禽兽也是。”
“你认为呢，德拉科？”伏地魔问，尽管他的声音很轻，但却清晰得传过了那片嘘声和嘲笑声，“你会管这样的小杂种吗？”
欢闹的场面凝固了。德拉科?马尔福恐惧地看了看他爸爸，而他爸爸正低头盯着自己的大腿，他只能再看向妈妈。她令人无法察觉地摇了摇头，然后又继续面无表情地盯向对面的墙了。
“行了”，伏地魔抚摸了一下那条愤怒的巨蟒，“够了。”
笑声立刻停止了。
“随着时间的流逝，我们最古老的家族都变得不太纯净了，”在贝拉克里特斯哀求般的无声注视下，他说，“你必须得剔除掉那些败类来保持家族的健康吧？剔除那些威胁整个家族血统纯净的糟粕部分吧。”
“没错，主人，”贝拉克里特斯轻声说，她的眼中再次充满了感激的泪花，“在第一时间剔除！”
“你应该这样做”，伏地魔说，“你的家族也是，全世界都是……我们都应该剔除掉那些败坏了的部分，直到只留下来的都是纯血统……”
伏地魔扬起卢修斯?马尔福的魔杖，对准了悬挂于桌子上方的躯体，然后轻弹了一下。那个身体呻吟着活了过来，开始试图挣脱在他身上的无形的禁锢。
“你认出了我们的客人吗，西弗勒斯？”伏地魔问道。
斯内普抬起眼睛看着那张倒挂的脸。现在所有的食死徒也开始看着这个俘虏，就好像他们被允许表现出好奇似的。当那个女人脸转到炉火的方向时，她发出了嘶哑而恐惧的声音：“西弗勒斯，救救我！”
“嗯，认识”斯内普答道，那个女人脸又慢慢转开了。
“你呢，德拉科？”伏地魔问，同时用没拿魔杖的那只手敲击着巨蟒的嘴。德拉科剧猛然摇头。现在那个女人已经清醒了，他似乎根本不敢去看她。
“但是你上不了她的课了，”伏地魔说，“你们不知道，我们今天能聚在这里都是因为她，查瑞丽?伯比奇，她一直正在霍格沃茨魔法学校任教。”
桌子周围的人恍然大悟，一个身躯高大肥硕的长着尖牙的女人咯咯笑了起来。
“是的……伯比奇教授孩子们麻瓜的知识……麻瓜们是如何与我们不同……”
一个食死徒拍着地板。查瑞丽?伯比奇的脸再次转到了斯内普的方向。
“西弗勒斯……求你……求你……”
“安静！”伏地魔说，又抖动了一下马尔福德魔杖，顿时查瑞丽像被塞住了似的说不出话来，“伯比奇教授并不满足于腐蚀污染有魔法天赋的孩子们，她上周还在预言家日报上发表了一篇热情洋溢的文章，为泥巴种辩护。她说巫师必须该接受那些贼的知识和魔法，伯比奇教授还认为纯血统人的减少是令人满意的……她要我们找麻瓜做伴侣……或者，当然了，还有狼人……”
这次没有人再笑了，伏地魔的声音中透着勿庸置疑的愤怒与蔑视。查瑞丽?伯比奇的脸又一次转向了斯内普，她的眼泪涌了出来，直流到头发里。她再次转开的时候，斯内普冷漠地盯着她的后背。
“阿瓦达索命！”
那道绿光照亮了屋子的每个角落。查瑞丽倒了下去，重重地摔在了下面的桌子上，桌吱吱作响。几个食死徒又坐回到了椅子中，德拉科瘫在了地板上。
“吃晚饭了，纳吉尼”伏地魔轻声说，那只巨蟒慢慢地从他的肩膀上滑向了光亮的木桌。
“My Lord, I have good news on that score. I have – with difficulty, and after great
effort – succeeded in placing an Imperius Curse upon Pius Thicknesse.”
Many of those sitting around Yaxley looked impressed; his neighbor, Dolohov, a
man with a long, twisted face, clapped him on the back.
“It is a start,” said Voldemort. “But Thicknesse is only one man. Scrimgeour must
be surrounded by our people before I act. One failed attempt on the Minister’s life will
set me back a long way.”
“Yes – my Lord, that is true – but you know, as Head of the Department of
Magical Law Enforcement, Thicknesse has regular contact not only with the Minister
himself, but also with the Heads of all the other Ministry departments. It will, I think, be
easy now that we have such a high-ranking official under our control, to subjugate the
others, and then they can all work together to bring Scrimgeour down.”
“As long as our friend Thicknesse is not discovered before he has converted the
rest,” said Voldemort. “At any rate, it remains unlikely that the Ministry will be mine
before next Saturday. If we cannot touch the boy at his destination, then it must be done
while he travels.”
“We are at an advantage there, my Lord,” said Yaxley, who seemed determined to
receive some portion of approval. “We now have several people planted within the
Department of Magical Transport. If Potter Apparates or uses the Floo Network, we shall
know immediately.”
“He will not do either,” said Snape. “The Order is eschewing any form of
transport that is controlled or regulated by the Ministry; they mistrust everything to do
with the place.”
“All the better,” said Voldemort. “He will have to move in the open. Easier to
take, by far.”
Again, Voldemort looked up at the slowly revolving body as he went on, “I shall
attend to the boy in person. There have been too many mistakes where Harry Potter is
concerned. Some of them have been my own. That Potter lives is due more to my errors
than to his triumphs.”
The company around the table watched Voldemort apprehensively, each of them,
by his or her expression, afraid that they might be blamed for Harry Potter’s continued
existence. Voldemort, however, seemed to be speaking more to himself than to any of
them, still addressing the unconscious body above him.
“I have been careless, and so have been thwarted by luck and chance, those
wreckers of all but the best-laid plans. But I know better now. I understand those things
that I did not understand before. I must be the one to kill Harry Potter, and I shall be.”
At these words, seemingly in response to them, a sudden wail sounded, a terrible,
drawn-out cry of misery and pain. Many of those at the table looked downward, startled,
for the sound had seemed to issue from below their feet.
“Wormtail,” said Voldemort, with no change in his quiet, thoughtful tone, and
without removing his eyes from the revolving body above, “have I not spoken to you
about keeping our prisoner quiet?”
“Yes, m-my Lord,” gasped a small man halfway down the table, who had been
sitting so low in his chair that it appeared, at first glance, to be unoccupied. Now he
scrambled from his seat and scurried from the room, leaving nothing behind him but a
curious gleam of silver.
“As I was saying,” continued Voldemort, looking again at the tense faces of his
followers, “I understand better now. I shall need, for instance, to borrow a wand from one
of you before I go to kill Potter.”
The faces around him displayed nothing but shock; he might have announced that
he wanted to borrow one of their arms.
“No volunteers?” said Voldemort. “Let’s see … Lucius, I see no reason for you to
have a wand anymore.”
Lucius Malfoy looked up. His skin appeared yellowish and waxy in the firelight,
and his eyes were sunken and shadowed. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.
“My Lord?”
“Your wand, Lucius. I require your wand.”
“I …”
Malfoy glanced sideways at his wife. She was staring straight ahead, quite as pale
as he was, her long blonde hair hanging down her back, but beneath the table her slim
fingers closed briefly on his wrist. At her touch, Malfoy put his hand into his robes,
withdrew a wand, and passed it along to Voldemort, who held it up in front of his red
eyes, examining it closely.
“What is it?”
“Elm, my Lord,” whispered Malfoy.
“And the core?”
“Dragon – dragon heartstring.”
“Good,” said Voldemort. He drew out his wand and compared the lengths. Lucius
Malfoy made an involuntary movement; for a fraction of a second, it seemed he expected
to receive Voldemort’s wand in exchange for his own. The gesture was not missed by
Voldemort, whose eyes widened maliciously.
“Give you my wand, Lucius? My wand?”
Some of the throng sniggered.
“I have given you your liberty, Lucius, is that not enough for you? But I have
noticed that you and your family seem less than happy of late … What is it about my
presence in your home that displaces you, Lucius?”
“Nothing – nothing, my Lord!”
“Such lies Lucius … “
The soft voice seemed to hiss on even after the cruel mouth had stopped moving.
One or two of the wizards barely repressed a shudder as the hissing grew louder;
something heavy could be heard sliding across the floor beneath the table.
The huge snake emerged to climb slowly up Voldemort’s chair. It rose, seemingly
endlessly, and came to rest across Voldemort’s shoulders: its neck the thickness of a
man’s thigh; its eyes, with their vertical slits for pupils, unblinking. Voldemort stroked
the creature absently with long thin fingers, still looking at Lucius Malfoy.
“Why do the Malfoys look so unhappy with their lot? Is my return, my rise to
power, not the very thing they professed to desire for so many years?”
“Of course, my Lord,” said Lucius Malfoy. His hand shook as he wiped sweat
from his upper lip. “We did desire it – we do.”
To Malfoy’s left, his wife made an odd, stiff nod, her eyes averted from
Voldemort and the snake. To his right, his son, Draco, who had been gazing up at the
inert body overhead, glanced quickly at Voldemort and away again, terrified to make eye
contact.
“My Lord,” said a dark woman halfway down the table, her voice constricted with
emotion, “it is an honor to have you here, in our family’s house. There can be no higher
pleasure.”
She sat beside her sister, as unlike her in looks, with her dark hair and heavily
lidded eyes, as she was in bearing and demeanor; where Narcissa sat rigid and impassive,
Bellatrix leaned toward Voldemort, for mere words could not demonstrate her longing for
closeness.
“No higher pleasure,” repeated Voldemort, his head tilted a little to one side as he
considered Bellatrix. “That means a great deal, Bellatrix, from you.”
Her face flooded with color; her eyes welled with tears of delight.
“My Lord knows I speak nothing but the truth!”
“No higher pleasure … even compared with the happy event that, I hear, has
taken place in your family this week?”
She stared at him, her lips parted, evidently confused.
“I don’t know what you mean, my Lord.”
“I’m talking about your niece, Bellatrix. And yours, Lucius and Narcissa. She has
just married the werewolf, Remus Lupin. You must be so proud.”
There was an eruption of jeering laughter from around the table. Many leaned
forward to exchange gleeful looks; a few thumped the table with their fists. The giant
snake, disliking the disturbance, opened its mouth wide and hissed angrily, but the Death
Eaters did not hear it, so jubilant were they at Bellatrix and the Malfoys’ humiliation.
Bellatrix’s face, so recently flushed wit happiness, had turned an ugly, blotchy red.
“She is no niece of ours, my Lord,” she cried over the outpouring of mirth. “We –
Narcissa and I – have never set eyes on our sister since she married the Mudblood. This
brat has nothing to do with either of us, nor any beast she marries.”
“What say you, Draco?” asked Voldemort, and though his voice was quiet, it
carried clearly through the catcalls and jeers. “Will you babysit the cubs?”
The hilarity mounted; Draco Malfoy looked in terror at his father, who was
staring down into his own lap, then caught his mother’s eye. She shook her head almost
imperceptibly, then resumed her own deadpan stare at the opposite wall.
“Enough,” said Voldemort, stroking the angry snake. “Enough.”
And the laughter died at once.
“Many of our oldest family trees become a little diseased over time,” he said as
Bellatrix gazed at him, breathless and imploring, “You must prune yours, must you not,
to keep it healthy? Cut away those parts that threaten the health of the rest.”
“Yes, my Lord,” whispered Bellatrix, and her eyes swam with tears of gratitude
again. “At the first chance!”
“You shall have it,” said Voldemort. “And in your family, so in the world … we
shall cut away the canker that infects us until only those of the true blood remain …”
Voldemort raised Lucius Malfoy’s wand, pointed it directly at the slowly
revolving figure suspended over the table, and gave it a tiny flick. The figure came to life
with a groan and began to struggle against invisible bonds.
“Do you recognize our guest, Severus?” asked Voldemort.
Snape raised his eyes to the upside down face. All of the Death Eaters were
looking up at the captive now, as though they had been given permission to show
curiosity. As she revolved to face the firelight, the woman said in a cracked and terrified
voice, “Severus! Help me!”
“Ah, yes,” said Snape as the prisoner turned slowly away again.
“And you, Draco?” asked Voldemort, stroking the snake’s snout with his wand-
free hand. Draco shook his head jerkily. Now that the woman had woken, he seemed
unable to look at her anymore.
“But you would not have taken her classes,” said Voldemort. “For those of you
who do not know, we are joined here tonight by Charity Burbage who, until recently,
taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”
There were small noises of comprehension around the table. A broad, hunched
woman with pointed teeth cackled.
“Yes … Professor Burbage taught the children of witches and wizards all about
Muggles … how they are not so different from us … “
One of the Death Eaters spat on the floor. Charity Burbage revolved to face Snape
again.
“Severus … please … please … “
“Silence,” said Voldemort, with another twitch of Malfoy’s wand, and Charity fell
silent as if gagged. “Not content with corrupting and polluting the minds of Wizarding
children, last week Professor Burbage wrote an impassioned defense of Mudbloods in the
Daily Prophet. Wizards, she says, must accept these thieves of their knowledge and
magic. The dwindling of the purebloods is, says Professor Burbage, a most desirable
circumstance … She would have us all mate with Muggles … or, no doubt, werewolves
… “
Nobody laughed this time. There was no mistaking the anger and contempt in
Voldemort’s voice. For the third time, Charity Burbage revolved to face Snape. Tears
were pouring from her eyes into her hair. Snape looked back at her, quite impassive, as
she turned slowly away from him again.
“Avada Kedavra”
The flash of green light illuminated every corner of the room. Charity fell, with a
resounding crash, onto the table below, which trembled and creaked. Several of the Death
Eaters leapt back in their chairs. Draco fell out of his onto the floor.
“Dinner, Nagini,” said Voldemort softly, and the great snake swayed and slithered
from his shoulders onto the polished wood.
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