《哈利波特与魔法石》（第一章译稿9）
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一阵低沉的隆隆声划破了周围的寂静。当他们来回搜索街道上是否有汽车前灯的灯光时，响声越来越大，最后变成一阵吼叫。他们抬眼望着天空，只见一辆巨型摩托自天丽降，停在他们面前的街道上。
如果说摩托是一辆巨型摩托，那么骑车人就更不在话下了。那人比普通人高一倍，宽度至少有五倍，似乎显得出奇地高大，而且粗野——纠结在一起的乱蓬蓬的黑色长发和胡须几乎遮住了大部分脸庞，那双手有垃圾桶盖那么大，一双穿着皮靴的脚像两只小海豚。他那肌肉发达的粗壮双臂抱着一卷毛毯。
“海格，”邓布利多说，听起来像松了一口气，“你总算来了。这辆摩托车你是从哪里弄来的?”
“借来的，邓布利多教授，”巨人一边小心翼翼地跨下摩托车，一边说，“是小天狼星布莱克借给我的。我把他带来了，先生。”
“没有遇到麻烦吧?”
“没有，先生——房子几乎全毁了。我们赶在麻瓜们从四面八方汇拢来之前把他抱了出来。当我们飞越布里斯托尔【英格兰西南部港口城市．艾文郡首府．临布里斯托尔海峡】上空的时候，他睡着了……”
邓布利多和麦格教授朝那卷毛毯俯下身去。他们看见毛毯里裹着一个男婴，睡得正香。孩子前额上一绺乌黑的头发下边有一处刀伤，伤口形状很奇怪，像一道闪电。
“这地方就是——”麦格教授低声说。
“是的，”邓布利多说，“他一辈子都要带着这道伤疤了。”
“你不能想想办法吗?邓布利多?”
“即使有办法，我也不会去做。伤疤今后可能会有用处。我左边膝盖上就有一个疤，是一幅完整的伦敦地铁图。好了——把他给我吧，海格——咱们最好还是把事情办妥。”
邓布利多把哈利拖在怀里，朝德思礼家走去。
“我能——我能跟他告别一下吗?先生?”海格问。
他把毛发蓬乱的大头凑到哈利脸上，给了他一个胡子拉碴、痒乎乎的吻。接着海格突然像一只受伤的狗号叫了一声。
“嘘!”麦格教授嘘了他一声，“你会把麻瓜们吵醒的!”
“对——对——对不起，”海格哭哭啼啼地说，掏出一块污渍斑斑的大手帕，把脸埋在手帕里，“我——我实在受——受不了……莉莉和詹姆死了……可怜的小哈利又要住在麻瓜们家里”
A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.
If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild — long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.
"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"
"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."
"No problems, were there?"
"No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.
"Is that where — ?" whispered Professor McGonagall.
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."
"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"
"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well — give him here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with."
Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.
"Could I — could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.
"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!"
"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it — Lily an' James dead — an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles—"
如果说摩托是一辆巨型摩托，那么骑车人就更不在话下了。那人比普通人高一倍，宽度至少有五倍，似乎显得出奇地高大，而且粗野——纠结在一起的乱蓬蓬的黑色长发和胡须几乎遮住了大部分脸庞，那双手有垃圾桶盖那么大，一双穿着皮靴的脚像两只小海豚。他那肌肉发达的粗壮双臂抱着一卷毛毯。
“海格，”邓布利多说，听起来像松了一口气，“你总算来了。这辆摩托车你是从哪里弄来的?”
“借来的，邓布利多教授，”巨人一边小心翼翼地跨下摩托车，一边说，“是小天狼星布莱克借给我的。我把他带来了，先生。”
“没有遇到麻烦吧?”
“没有，先生——房子几乎全毁了。我们赶在麻瓜们从四面八方汇拢来之前把他抱了出来。当我们飞越布里斯托尔【英格兰西南部港口城市．艾文郡首府．临布里斯托尔海峡】上空的时候，他睡着了……”
邓布利多和麦格教授朝那卷毛毯俯下身去。他们看见毛毯里裹着一个男婴，睡得正香。孩子前额上一绺乌黑的头发下边有一处刀伤，伤口形状很奇怪，像一道闪电。
“这地方就是——”麦格教授低声说。
“是的，”邓布利多说，“他一辈子都要带着这道伤疤了。”
“你不能想想办法吗?邓布利多?”
“即使有办法，我也不会去做。伤疤今后可能会有用处。我左边膝盖上就有一个疤，是一幅完整的伦敦地铁图。好了——把他给我吧，海格——咱们最好还是把事情办妥。”
邓布利多把哈利拖在怀里，朝德思礼家走去。
“我能——我能跟他告别一下吗?先生?”海格问。
他把毛发蓬乱的大头凑到哈利脸上，给了他一个胡子拉碴、痒乎乎的吻。接着海格突然像一只受伤的狗号叫了一声。
“嘘!”麦格教授嘘了他一声，“你会把麻瓜们吵醒的!”
“对——对——对不起，”海格哭哭啼啼地说，掏出一块污渍斑斑的大手帕，把脸埋在手帕里，“我——我实在受——受不了……莉莉和詹姆死了……可怜的小哈利又要住在麻瓜们家里”
A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.
If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild — long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.
"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"
"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."
"No problems, were there?"
"No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.
"Is that where — ?" whispered Professor McGonagall.
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."
"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"
"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well — give him here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with."
Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.
"Could I — could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.
"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!"
"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it — Lily an' James dead — an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles—"
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