雅思林的日记2

1976年8月21日 阴

I haven’t written in days—I’ve been swamped at the Ministry. Auror training is brutal, you know? Mad-Eye makes us run ten miles before dawn, practice Stunning Spells until our wands feel like extensions of our arms, and recite Dark Arts facts until my head spins. Rare to get a quiet moment to breathe, let alone write in a diary.

我已经几天没写日记了——魔法部的工作忙得我焦头烂额。你知道吗？傲罗训练太残酷了。疯眼汉让我们天不亮就跑十英里，练习昏迷咒直到魔杖仿佛成为手臂的一部分，背诵黑魔法知识直到头晕目眩。能有片刻安静呼吸的时间都难得，更别说写日记了。

I thought I’d lost this diary—left it in my old dorm at Hogwarts when I graduated, buried under a pile of old Transfiguration notes and a sweater you’d left at my place (the one with the Macmillan crest that you pretended to hate but wore every time you visited). But last week, I was rummaging through a drawer in my flat, looking for a spare wand core, and found it buried under junk—receipts from Honeydukes, a crumpled map of the Forbidden Forest, a ticket stub from the Quidditch World Cup we went to in 1970. It smelled like old parchment and your favorite peppermint humbugs. I sat on the floor and read every entry until midnight.

我以为这本日记丢了——毕业时落在了霍格沃茨的旧宿舍里，藏在一堆变形术旧笔记和你落在我那儿的毛衣下面（就是那件印着麦克米兰家族徽章的，你假装讨厌，却每次来都穿的毛衣）。可上周，我在公寓的抽屉里翻找备用杖芯时，在一堆杂物下面找到了它——蜂蜜公爵的收据、一张揉皱的禁林地图、一张1970年我们去看魁地奇世界杯的票根。日记上满是旧羊皮纸和你最爱的薄荷硬糖的味道。我坐在地板上，一口气读到了午夜。

Days are dull, same as ever. Wake up, go to the Ministry, fight Dark wizards (or chase leads on them, anyway), come home, make tea, and stare at the wall until I fall asleep. Still haven’t cried. Everyone says it’s a good thing—“Grief’s not about tears, Yaslin,” Mad-Eye told me once. “It’s about remembering.” But I think I’m scared to cry. What if once I start, I can’t stop? What if I realize that I’ll never get to tell you how sorry I am, never get to hear you say it back? Nothing much to tell these pages… but I’m still here. Still loving you. Still wishing I could go back to fifth year, to that day by the lake, and say something different.

日子很平淡，和往常没什么两样。起床，去魔法部，对抗黑巫师（或者说追查他们的线索），回家，泡茶，盯着墙壁直到睡着。我还是没哭。所有人都说这是好事——“悲伤不在于眼泪，雅思林，”疯眼汉曾经告诉我，“而在于铭记。”可我觉得我是害怕哭。万一一旦开始，就停不下来了呢？万一我意识到，我永远都没机会告诉你我有多抱歉，永远都没机会听到你说同样的话呢？没什么太多要写给日记的……但我还在这里。依然爱着你。依然希望能回到五年级，回到湖边的那一天，说出不一样的话。

1976年8月23日 雨

Feels like there’s no point to any of this. The days loop—Auror training, tea, silence—nothing’s fun anymore. I used to love Quidditch, but now I can’t even watch a match without thinking of the time you dragged me to the Hufflepuff stands and made me cheer for your team (even though I was in Ravenclaw). I used to love Potions, but now the smell of wolfsbane makes me think of the time you accidentally spilled a cauldron on Slughorn’s favorite robe and we ran out of the classroom laughing. Losing you’s the worst thing that ever happened to me, Fasker. Worse than growing up without a father, worse than being teased for being a half-blood, worse than all the Dark wizards I’ll ever face.

我觉得日子好像没有盼头了。每天都在循环——傲罗训练、泡茶、沉默——再也没有什么乐趣可言。我以前很喜欢魁地奇，可现在连一场比赛都看不下去，一看到就会想起你拉我去赫奇帕奇看台上，逼我为你的球队加油（尽管我是拉文克劳的）。我以前很喜欢魔药课，可现在闻见狼毒草的味道，就会想起你不小心把坩埚泼到斯拉格霍恩最喜欢的长袍上，我们笑着跑出教室的样子。法斯克，失去你是我这辈子遇到过最糟糕的事。比从小没有父亲更糟，比因为是混血而被嘲笑更糟，比我将要面对的所有黑巫师都更糟。

Fasker—d’you know? Evelyn’s getting engaged to Daniel at the end of the year. They told me last night over butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. Evelyn was glowing, showing me the ring Daniel gave her—a sapphire set in silver, just like the one her mother had. Daniel was grinning like an idiot, scratching the back of his neck, saying he’d been planning it for months. I reckon you’d be happy for them, right? You and Daniel were like brothers—remember when you two snuck out of Hogwarts to go to the pub in Hogsmeade and got caught by Dumbledore? He gave you both a lectur 1976年8月21日 阴

I haven’t written in days—I’ve been swamped at the Ministry. Auror training is brutal, you know? Mad-Eye makes us run ten miles before dawn, practice Stunning Spells until our wands feel like extensions of our arms, and recite Dark Arts facts until my head spins. Rare to get a quiet moment to breathe, let alone write in a diary.

我已经几天没写日记了——魔法部的工作忙得我焦头烂额。你知道吗？傲罗训练太残酷了。疯眼汉让我们天不亮就跑十英里，练习昏迷咒直到魔杖仿佛成为手臂的一部分，背诵黑魔法知识直到头晕目眩。能有片刻安静呼吸的时间都难得，更别说写日记了。

I thought I’d lost this diary—left it in my old dorm at Hogwarts when I graduated, buried under a pile of old Transfiguration notes and a sweater you’d left at my place (the one with the Macmillan crest that you pretended to hate but wore every time you visited). But last week, I was rummaging through a drawer in my flat, looking for a spare wand core, and found it buried under junk—receipts from Honeydukes, a crumpled map of the Forbidden Forest, a ticket stub from the Quidditch World Cup we went to in 1970. It smelled like old parchment and your favorite peppermint humbugs. I sat on the floor and read every entry until midnight.

我以为这本日记丢了——毕业时落在了霍格沃茨的旧宿舍里，藏在一堆变形术旧笔记和你落在我那儿的毛衣下面（就是那件印着麦克米兰家族徽章的，你假装讨厌，却每次来都穿的毛衣）。可上周，我在公寓的抽屉里翻找备用杖芯时，在一堆杂物下面找到了它——蜂蜜公爵的收据、一张揉皱的禁林地图、一张1970年我们去看魁地奇世界杯的票根。日记上满是旧羊皮纸和你最爱的薄荷硬糖的味道。我坐在地板上，一口气读到了午夜。

Days are dull, same as ever. Wake up, go to the Ministry, fight Dark wizards (or chase leads on them, anyway), come home, make tea, and stare at the wall until I fall asleep. Still haven’t cried. Everyone says it’s a good thing—“Grief’s not about tears, Yaslin,” Mad-Eye told me once. “It’s about remembering.” But I think I’m scared to cry. What if once I start, I can’t stop? What if I realize that I’ll never get to tell you how sorry I am, never get to hear you say it back? Nothing much to tell these pages… but I’m still here. Still loving you. Still wishing I could go back to fifth year, to that day by the lake, and say something different.

日子很平淡，和往常没什么两样。起床，去魔法部，对抗黑巫师（或者说追查他们的线索），回家，泡茶，盯着墙壁直到睡着。我还是没哭。所有人都说这是好事——“悲伤不在于眼泪，雅思林，”疯眼汉曾经告诉我，“而在于铭记。”可我觉得我是害怕哭。万一一旦开始，就停不下来了呢？万一我意识到，我永远都没机会告诉你我有多抱歉，永远都没机会听到你说同样的话呢？没什么太多要写给日记的……但我还在这里。依然爱着你。依然希望能回到五年级，回到湖边的那一天，说出不一样的话。

1976年8月23日 雨

Feels like there’s no point to any of this. The days loop—Auror training, tea, silence—nothing’s fun anymore. I used to love Quidditch, but now I can’t even watch a match without thinking of the time you dragged me to the Hufflepuff stands and made me cheer for your team (even though I was in Ravenclaw). I used to love Potions, but now the smell of wolfsbane makes me think of the time you accidentally spilled a cauldron on Slughorn’s favorite robe and we ran out of the classroom laughing. Losing you’s the worst thing that ever happened to me, Fasker. Worse than growing up without a father, worse than being teased for being a half-blood, worse than all the Dark wizards I’ll ever face.

我觉得日子好像没有盼头了。每天都在循环——傲罗训练、泡茶、沉默——再也没有什么乐趣可言。我以前很喜欢魁地奇，可现在连一场比赛都看不下去，一看到就会想起你拉我去赫奇帕奇看台上，逼我为你的球队加油（尽管我是拉文克劳的）。我以前很喜欢魔药课，可现在闻见狼毒草的味道，就会想起你不小心把坩埚泼到斯拉格霍恩最喜欢的长袍上，我们笑着跑出教室的样子。法斯克，失去你是我这辈子遇到过最糟糕的事。比从小没有父亲更糟，比因为是混血而被嘲笑更糟，比我将要面对的所有黑巫师都更糟。

Fasker—d’you know? Evelyn’s getting engaged to Daniel at the end of the year. They told me last night over butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. Evelyn was glowing, showing me the ring Daniel gave her—a sapphire set in silver, just like the one her mother had. Daniel was grinning like an idiot, scratching the back of his neck, saying he’d been planning it for months. I reckon you’d be happy for them, right? You and Daniel were like brothers—remember when you two snuck out of Hogwarts to go to the pub in Hogsmeade and got caught by Dumbledore? He gave you both a lecture about responsibility, but you just winked at each other the whole time. You always said Evelyn was “too good for Daniel,” but you also said he was the only bloke who’d ever treat her right. I wish you were here to toast them. I wish you were here to tease Daniel about crying when he proposed (Evelyn told me he sobbed like a baby).

法斯克，你知道吗？年底伊芙林就要和丹尼尔订婚了。昨晚我们在三把扫帚酒吧喝黄油啤酒时，他们告诉我的。伊芙林容光焕发，给我看丹尼尔送她的戒指——银质底座镶嵌着蓝宝石，和她母亲的那枚一模一样。丹尼尔笑得像个傻瓜，挠着后脑勺说，他策划这一切已经好几个月了。我想，你也会为他们高兴的，对吗？你和丹尼尔就像亲兄弟——记得你们俩偷偷溜出霍格沃茨去霍格莫德。