哈利波特大结局之3

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in his red eyes. “Will the Ministry have fallen by next Saturday?”

Once again, all heads turned. Yaxley squared his shoulders.

“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

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