At Wallis Bay, the sea crashed against the jagged rocks with a thunderous roar, now and then spitting up g At Wallis Bay, the sea crashed against the jagged rocks with a thunderous roar, now and then spitting up gifts from the depths—silver fish, wriggling shrimp, and glistening seashells—before the tide swallowed them back.
沃里斯湾，海水咆哮着撞击在嶙峋的岩石上，时不时从深海里吐出馈赠——银光闪闪的鱼、扭动的虾，还有亮晶晶的贝壳——随后又被潮水卷回海中。
The roar of the waves shook the very air, sending tremors through the gnarled tree trunks and making their leaves flutter like nervous butterflies. Yet somehow, that constant, rumbling rhythm settled something deep in the bones—calming, grounding, like a lullaby for the soul.
海浪的轰鸣震得空气都在颤抖，粗糙的树干微微晃动，树叶像不安的蝴蝶般簌簌作响。但不知为何，这持续不断的隆隆声，却能安抚心底的躁动，沉稳得如同灵魂的摇篮曲。
Seraphina carried a sleek yew-wood suitcase slowly, its brass fittings glinting in the sunlight. Inside lay her clothes, leather-bound books, a crystal toiletries set, and a stack of parchment tied with silk—all the trappings of a young witch’s journey. Her fingers tapped restlessly against the case; she was jittery, unused to being sent off alone, but the ebb and flow of the waves, soft then loud, smoothed out her frayed nerves.
塞拉菲娜慢悠悠地提着一个精致的紫杉木手提箱，箱子上的黄铜配件在阳光下闪闪发亮。里面装着她的衣物、皮面书籍、一套水晶洗漱用品，还有一叠用丝绸捆好的羊皮纸——都是年轻女巫出行的必备之物。她的手指不安地敲着箱子，不习惯独自被送走的她有些紧张，但时起时伏、忽轻忽重的海浪声，渐渐抚平了她紧绷的神经。
“Merlin’s beard—where in the blazes am I? Bloody Floo Powder, always sending you off course!” Seraphina coughed, brushing ash from her robes as she hurried along the cliffside stone path. “Oh, my poor glasses case—look at the scuff marks!”
“梅林的胡子——我到底跑到什么鬼地方了？该死的飞路粉，从来都不准！”塞拉菲娜咳嗽着，拍掉长袍上的灰烬，快步走在崖边的石板路上。“哦，我可怜的眼镜盒——看看这些划痕！”
She polished her beloved round water-wood glasses case gently with the hem of her robe. Collecting spectacles was her obsession; any quiet moment found her fussing over her collection—polishing frames, arranging them by wood type, even chatting to them when no one was around. “What in the name of Salazar possessed Mum and Dad to send me to this ghastly, middle-of-nowhere place?”
她用长袍下摆小心翼翼地擦拭着心爱的圆形水木眼镜盒。收藏眼镜是她的执念，只要一有空，她就会摆弄那些宝贝——擦亮镜架、按木材种类分类，没人的时候还会跟它们说话。“萨拉查在上，父母到底是哪根筋搭错了，把我送到这个阴森森、鸟不拉屎的地方来？”
Fuming, Seraphina kicked a pebble into the endless, sapphire sea. It sent a tiny ripple through the water’s glassy surface, a fleeting disruption in the otherwise perfect calm.
塞拉菲娜怒气冲冲地踢起路边一块石子，扔进无垠的宝蓝色大海里。石子在光洁如镜的海面上激起一圈小小的涟漪，打破了这份极致的宁静，却又转瞬即逝。
Her father, Jess Grant Gaunt, and mother, Lily Jaeve, had scarpered off to Ireland for a “well-deserved holiday”—leaving her behind. Seraphina had been relishing the chaos of a big empty house: running wild through the corridors, sleeping in till noon, polishing off two tubs of sugar quill ice cream a day. To a young witch with a penchant for mischief, that was pure paradise; days like that felt like they’d stretch on forever.
她的父亲杰斯·格兰特·冈特和母亲莉莉·杰伊芙，一溜烟跑到爱尔兰去“享受应得的假期”——把她孤零零地丢在了家里。塞拉菲娜原本正享受着空荡荡大房子里的自由：在走廊里疯跑、睡到大中午、一天吃掉两桶糖羽毛笔冰淇淋。对于一个爱调皮捣蛋的小女巫来说，那简直是天堂，这样的日子仿佛永远过不完。
Instead, they’d shipped her off to France, to the home of one of Mum’s old Hogwarts friends. Seraphina only knew the woman as Mrs. Lestrange—she’d pictured a sharp, stern sort with a tight bun and a voice like a whip, maybe with a face as severe as her name.
结果呢，他们硬是把她打发到了法国，送到母亲的一位霍格沃茨老友家。塞拉菲娜只从母亲口中听过“莱斯特兰奇太太”这个名字——她脑补出的形象是个表情严肃、梳着紧绷发髻、说话像抽鞭子的女人，或许长着一张和她姓氏一样冷峻的脸。
The sun had dragged itself low over the horizon, painting the sea in hues of orange and pink, while baking the top of Seraphina’s head. “Merlin, I’d blast this sun out of the sky if I had a proper wand! Stupid tiny hands, stupid underage magic restrictions—curse this blazing ball of fire!” She grumbled, lacking all respect for the celestial body.
太阳渐渐沉到地平线下方，把大海染成了橙粉色，同时也炙烤着塞拉菲娜的头顶。“梅林啊，要是我有一根正经魔杖，非得把这太阳打下来不可！该死的小手，该死的未成年魔法限制——诅咒这燃烧的火球！”她毫无敬畏地抱怨着。
It was sweltering; sweat soaked through her linen robes in minutes, sticking them to her skin.
天气热得要命，几分钟内，汗水就浸透了她的亚麻长袍，紧紧贴在皮肤上。
The manor loomed ahead, stiff and ancient—every stone breathed discipline and severity, its spires reaching toward the darkening sky like gnarled fingers.
庄园赫然出现在眼前，刻板而古老——每一块石头都散发着规矩与严厉的气息，尖顶像枯瘦的手指般伸向渐渐变暗的天空。
Seraphina rapped sharply on the oak door, her knuckles smarting from the hard wood.
塞拉菲娜用力敲了敲橡木大门，坚硬的木头震得她指关节发疼。
A house-elf answered, short as a side table, with a long, pointed nose and skin crinkled like unplastered stone walls or a frayed old dishcloth. But its eyes were a saving grace—deep, vivid blue, round as ripe grapes, blinking fast as if unused to visitors.
开门的是一个家养小精灵，个子只有边桌那么高，长着尖尖的长鼻子，皮肤皱巴巴的，像没抹灰的石墙，又像破旧的抹布。但它的眼睛却十分讨喜——深邃明亮的蓝色，圆溜溜的像熟透的葡萄，飞快地眨着，仿佛不常见到客人。
“Er… what’s your name, little one?” Seraphina asked, leaning down to meet its eyes, curious despite herself.
“呃…小家伙，你叫什么名字？”塞拉菲娜忍不住好奇，弯腰凑近它的眼睛问道。
“Kiftan, miss.” A warm, melodious voice came from above; a woman in an elegant white witch’s robe descended the winding staircase, her steps light as a feather.
“回小姐，我叫奇夫丹。”一个温柔悦耳的声音从上方传来，一位身着精致白色巫师袍的妇人走下蜿蜒的楼梯，脚步轻盈如羽。
“Kiftan? That’s a grand name—far nicer than most house-elf monikers.” Seraphina started, taken aback. This woman had soft chestnut curls framing her face, carried herself with graceful poise, and even a touch of plumpness couldn’t hide the kindness in her round features.
“奇夫丹？这名字真好听——比大多数家养小精灵的名字强多了。”塞拉菲娜吃了一惊。眼前的妇人有着柔软的栗色卷发，衬得脸庞格外温婉，举止优雅端庄，即便身形微胖，也掩盖不住她圆润五官中透出的和善。
“Mrs. Lestrange.” Kiftan noticed the woman, bowing so low his nose nearly touched the floor.
“莱斯特兰奇太太。”奇夫丹认出了妇人，深深鞠了一躬，鼻尖差点碰到地面。
“Mrs. Lestrange—you’re a friend of my mother’s, aren’t you? Lily Jaeve?”
“莱斯特兰奇太太——您是我母亲莉莉·杰伊芙的朋友，对吗？”
“I am indeed. Though my husband passed on some years ago—your mother and I only keep in touch by owl post now.” She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
“没错。不过我丈夫几年前就过世了——现在我和你母亲只通过猫头鹰书信联系。”她笑了笑，眼角泛起细纹。
“Mum’s mentioned you often—said you were the bravest in your year at Hogwarts.”
“我母亲常提起您——说您是霍格沃茨同届里最勇敢的人。”
“Has she? How sweet of her. Now, what d’you take me for, then, before you laid eyes on me?” Mrs. Lestrange asked, amusement dancing in her eyes.
“是吗？她真贴心。那在见到我之前，你以为我是个什么样的人？”莱斯特兰奇太太眼中闪过一丝笑意，好奇地问道。
“I thought you’d be strict—sharp-tongued and unsmiling. But I was wrong—you’re kind. And very polite.” Seraphina’s earnest words made Mrs. Lestrange laugh, a warm, throaty sound.
“我原以为您会很严厉——说话尖刻，不苟言笑。但我错了，您非常和善，还特别有礼貌。”塞拉菲娜真诚的话语让莱斯特兰奇太太笑了起来，笑声温暖而浑厚。
“Not many would say that, my dear. My husband was the stern one—stiff as a broomstick, he was. Never could abide nonsense.” Mrs. Lestrange smiled, taking Seraphina’s hand and leading her to the sitting room sofa.
“亲爱的，没多少人会这么说我呢。我丈夫才是那个严厉的人——死板得像根扫帚柄，从来容忍不了胡闹。”莱斯特兰奇太太笑着拉起塞拉菲娜的手，把她带到客厅的沙发上。
Seraphina had expected the house to feel as rigid and cold as the exterior—but it was warm and inviting, filled with the scent of cinnamon and old books. The only flaw: the sofa, carved from solid mahogany and yew, was rock-hard, even with the plush velvet cushions.
塞拉菲娜本以为屋子里也会像外观那样刻板冰冷——但这里却温暖宜人，弥漫着肉桂和旧书的香气。唯一的不足是，沙发由坚实的红木和紫杉木打造而成，即便铺了厚实的天鹅绒坐垫，依然硬邦邦的。
“Mrs. Lestrange—are you alone here in this big manor?” Seraphina asked, tentative, glancing around at the empty corridors.
“莱斯特兰奇太太——这么大的庄园里，就您一个人住吗？”塞拉菲娜试探着问道，目光扫过空荡荡的走廊。
“Not at all, dear. My daughter’s here—her name’s Faire Lestrange. She’s about your age, I should think.”
“当然不是啦，亲爱的。我女儿也在家——她叫弗艾尔·莱斯特兰奇。我想，她应该和你差不多大。”
“Is your h
……
When their chat finally wound down, Seraphina stretched and looked up—and locked eyes with a girl leaning over the banister, her tawny eyes bright with curiosity. That’s where their story began, in that quiet, candle-lit hallway.
漫长的闲聊终于告一段落，塞拉菲娜伸了个懒腰，抬头望去——正好与一个扒在楼梯扶手上的女孩对上了眼神，她茶色的眼睛里闪烁着好奇的光芒。她们的故事，就从这个烛光摇曳的安静走廊里，正式开始了。
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