11、11.07.1956 ...
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国际巫师联合会主席阁下敬启（我当然已经听说了这个特别赞誉）——
我们的余生？永恒？这话真是出自你口吗？所以我们是通过猫头鹰结婚了？这算什么？我是不是就像这墙上的苔癣一样，被无限期地束缚在了你装模作样的虔诚宣言上？那些橙红的部分已经变得特别壮观，还有一些鳞绿，既像是某种昆虫的翅瓣，又仿似新叶。它们的生长速度慢得难以想象。我的生命已然冻结，冰河般漫长，刺骨得漠然。十年不止了，不是吗？一方斗室，十余年屈居于此。我曾以为我会疯。或许我早已经疯了。
校长。一派胡言。猪狗不如。* 瞧瞧你。瞧瞧你啊，伟大的阿不思·邓布利多。国际“污师蠊合会”主席*，伴着你新年愉快的麦芽酒弯下腰难受起来。就因为你在几十年之前和一个德国的男孩做过爱，再也没法爱上什么人了，或者是其他的什么废话。你仍然在因为她的死而怪我，是吧，阿不思？那是个意外！你这喝高了的笨蛋。意！外！那不是我干的，我发誓，我只是在恐惧中逃走了——
再瞧瞧我，盖勒特·格林德沃。曾几何时，欧洲每个巫师家庭的孩子都会因为这个名字而雀跃或是瑟缩；曾几何时，我只是施展一个咒语，就够让所有的树叶随风飘零三十英尺外；曾几何时，我几乎就要能够建立，真正地结实地建立一种全新的世界秩序，我能带来一个光明的新未来。而我是为了你和我，为了我们，去做这些。而我现如今在这里，逐渐腐烂，太过于寂寞以至于会在意一个娘娘腔英国老混账对我的看法。你一定从这样的设想中得到满足了吧——是啊，我说不定会被我那些受害者的尖声惊叫纠缠不休着呢？我躺着在那儿，难以入眠，辗转反侧，被如影往事折磨得心有余悸。像这样的设想如何？你对此感到兴奋了吧？你是这么想的吗，阿不思？多年来，是不是小阿利安娜阻止了你内心真正渴望着的、对我的追捕呢？
近况。你说近况么，邓布利多？你是想知道从这个你把我投进来的囚牢里传出去的近况吗？你整整四年都杳无音讯——我手表上的咒语运转良好，谢谢你了，我很清楚过了多久——然后你就仅仅只是来吹嘘你是校长。[一团难以辨认的墨迹向你致意]
你的困惑可真是可爱得紧，真的。你完全没法理解为什么我会冲你发火，对吧？因为你心怀大爱一心向善，因为你是带着你那伟大的无私的友谊来靠近我的。我不会真的对你生气的，不是吗。就单纯只是又生了一次闷气，对不对啊？*
格特鲁德是个发癫的泼妇。* 你想怎么教育我呢？我又被卷进你的什么游戏了？我们不是已经通关了一次吗？在那次游戏之中你日夜在我左右，你的全副身心都投入给我，然后，就因为一个意外，指责我，背叛我，丢下我一个人去完成本该是两个人一起的事业。然后是另一个游戏。你伴着我走上我的道路，分享我的宏图，和我一道寻找圣器，向我吐露那些真挚、深刻又贴切无比的话语，陪我锤炼了我的理念。然后，在你悠闲下来的时候，当你看够了这场戏，你就以真理和正义的名义从英格兰信步而来，将我从天空中击落。
你完整了我，邓布利多。你锻造了我，塑成了我，然后松开了牵着我的线，从此世界成了任我驰骋的疆场。而我认为你那亲爱的弟弟这回会同意我的观点的：你可是有个忽视所有那些令人难看的真相的习惯。
不过聊这关于你的已经够多了，我们再来说说我吧，你饱受惊扰支离破碎的宠物黑魔王，你拙劣丢人的试验品。是谁曾转动环绕你躯体的甜蜜咒语，微笑着看你乞求他与你□□？而我好奇的是，又有谁知道这一切呢？这是你不得不永远隐藏的事情之一吗？可怜又可爱的阿不思啊。
是啊，我们又在兜圈了。现在我又回头了，就为了来嘲笑你，直到我几乎气急攻心、无法呼吸。
我有了一个新笔友，邓布利多教授。* 你会因此而骄傲吗？别以为你是我唯一的通信对象——天知道，如果你真的是那个唯一的话，我大概几年前就要把自己的头撞烂在墙上了。有时候，和一个并不会否认自己全部的人交谈，也真是件挺愉快的事。我的同道中人，一个黑巫师，野心勃勃、肆无忌惮。那是个英国男孩，非常聪明，又拘谨得有一点死板，用的是一个傻乎乎的假名字——几年前突然就给我寄来了猫头鹰，想跟我聊聊，实际上是三句话不离本行。哈，就像你常说的，“三句话不离本行”。思想很伟大，可惜没有哪怕一丝一毫的幽默感。当我提起我与你相熟的时候，他似乎还有些错愕呢。
我告诉他，你是个善于利用别人的骗子，一个伪君子，让他离你越远越好。当然，他早已经对此心知肚明了。不过，你最好还是对他保持点警惕心。他大概会是个危险的年轻人。而你怎么才能够掌控一个黑魔王呢？尤其当他不是你的走狗的时候。*
你最好继续良心不安，阿不思·邓布利多。别自欺欺人了，你可不是完全无可指摘的纯白羊羔。* 又及，格特鲁德就是个发癫的泼妇。
盖特勒·格林德沃
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[原文]
July 11th, 1956*
Mister Supreme Mugwump Sir, and of course I heard about that particular commendation—
The rest of our lives, you say? Forever, you say? Are we wedded by owl, then Am I bound to your sanctimonious pronouncements as permanently as the lichen on my walls? The orange spot is becoming particularly magnificent. There is green like scales, green like little leaves. They grow unimaginably slowly. My whole life has become glacial. It's been more than ten years, hasn't it? More than ten years in one single little room. I thought I'd go mad. Maybe I have.
Headmaster. Bollocks. Schweinhund. Look at you. Look at you, the great Albus Dumbledore, International Mugwump of the Grand Posh Scheisse-Swarm, hunching over your New Year's ale because you fucked a German boy decades ago and can never love again or some nonsense—and you still blame me for her death, don't you, Albus? It was an accident, you drunken idiot, an accident, it wasn't me, I swear, I only fled in fear—
And look at me. Gellert Grindelwald. There was a time when every child in Wizarding Europe cheered for my name or shrunk from it. There was a time when I cast curses that stripped the leaves from every tree for thirty feet with the mere wind of their passing—there was a time when I was on the verge of establishing, truly establishing, a new world order, a bright new future, and I would have done it for you and me—and here I am, rotting, lonely enough to care what some poncy old British git thinks of me. You must have enjoyed the thought, yes, that I might be haunted by the screams of my victims? Does that fit your idea of how things work, that I lie awake at night tossing and turning from the ghosts of my past? And do you, Albus? Little Ariana held you back from hunting me down for years, didn't she？
News. NEWS, Dumbledore? News from this oubliette you left me in? Four years without a letter—the charms on my watch are holding perfectly well, thank you, I know how long it's been—and then only to brag that you're Headmaster? [a dark, indecipherable blotch of ink]
It's sweet, really, your bewilderment. You can't understand how I could possibly be angry at you, can you? Because you mean well, because you approach me in friendship, I couldn't really be upset, now could I? Just sulking again, right？
Gertrude is a crazy bitch. What lesson are you trying to teach me? What game of yours am I playing in now? We already finished one, the one where you spend every day with me, give me your body and your mind, and then blame me for an accident and betray me and leave me to do our work alone? And then the next, where you set me upon my path, share my plans, hunt the Hallows with me, give me the very words by which I forged my philosophy, and then, at your leisure, when you've watched enough, wander over from England in the name of truth and justice and bat me out of the sky?
You forged me, Dumbledore. You forged me and formed me and let me loose in the world. And I think your little brother would agree that you have a habit of ignoring uncomfortable truths.
But enough about you. Let's talk about me, your haunted and broken pet Dark Lord, your misbegotten experiment, who used to spin sweet spells round your body and smile as you begged him to bugger you? And who, I wonder, knows that? Is that one of those things you must ever hide? Poor Albus.
Yes, we go around in circles. Here I am back to mocking you until I can barely breathe for anger.
I have a new pen pal, Professor Dumbledore, aren't you proud? Never think that you're the only one I write to—god knows if you were, I would've bashed my head out on the wall years ago. And it's lovely, sometimes, to talk to somebody who doesn't disapprove of everything one is, a fellow Dark wizard, ambitious with abandon. British boy, very clever, a little stiff, silly made-up name—owled me out of the blue a few years ago looking to talk shop, as you'd say. Great mind, but no sense of humor. He seemed rather startled when I mentioned that I knew you.
I told him that you were a user and a hypocrite, and to stay well away from you. Of course, he was already frightened of you. You might want to keep an eye out for him though. He could be a dangerous lad. And how could you possibly handle a Dark Lord who isn't your lapdog?
Be well uncertain of your decency, Albus Dumbledore. And Gertrude is a crazy bitch.
GG
作者有话说
第11章 11.07.1956
