Scrimgeour took a couple of steps back from Harry, glancing at the hole he had made in Harry’s T-shirt. He seemed to regret his loss of temper.
“It – it was nothing,” he growled. “I … regret your attitude,” he said, looking Harry full in the face once more. “You seem to think that the Ministry does not desire what you – what Dumbledore – desired. We ought to work together.”
“I don’t like your methods, Minister,” said Harry. “Remember?”
For the second time, he raised his right fist and displayed to Scrimgeour the scar that still showed white on the back of it, spelling I must not tell lies . Scrimgeour’s expression hardened. He turned away without another word and limped from the room. Mrs. Weasley hurried after him; Harry heard her stop at the back door. After a minute or so she called, “He’s gone!”
“What did he want?” Mr. Weasley asked, looking around at Harry, Ron, and Hermione as Mrs. Weasley came hurrying back to them.
“To give us what Dumbledore left us,” said Harry. “They’ve only just released the content of his will.”
Outside in the garden, over the dinner tables, the three objects Scrimgeour had given them were passed from hand to hand. Everyone exclaimed over the Deluminator and The Tales of Beedle the Bard and lamented the fact that Scrimgeour had refused to pass on the sword, but none of them could offer any suggestion as to why Dumbledore would have left Harry an old Snitch. As Mr. Weasley examined the Deluminator for the third of fourth time, Mrs. Weasley said tentatively, “Harry, dear, everyone’s awfully hungry we didn’t like to start without you… Shall I serve dinner now?”
They all ate rather hurriedly and then after a hasty chorus of “Happy Birthday” and much gulping of cake, the party broke up. Hagrid, who was invited to the wedding the following day, but was far too bulky to sleep in the overstretched Burrow, left to set up a tent for himself in a neighboring field.
“Meet us upstairs,” Harry whispered to Hermione, while they helped Mrs. Weasley restore the garden to its normal state. “After everyone’s gone to bed.”
Up in the attic room, Ron examined his Deluminator, and Harry filled Hagrid’s moleskin purse, not with gold, but with those items he most prized, apparently worthless though some of them were the Marauder’s Map, the shard of Sirius’s enchanted mirror, and R.A.B.’s locket. He pulled the string tight and slipped the purse around his neck, then sat holding the old Snitch and watching its wings flutter feebly. At last, Hermione tapped on the door and tiptoed inside.
“Muffiato,” she whispered, waving her wand in the direction of the stairs.
“Thought you didn’t approve of that spell?” said Ron.
“Times change,“ said Hermione. ”Now, show us that Deluminator.“
Ron obliged at once. Holding I up in front of him, he clicked it. The solitary lamp they had lit went out at once.
“The thing is,” whispered Hermione through the dark, “we could have achieved that with Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.”
There was a small click, and the ball of light from the lamp flew back to the ceiling and illuminated them all once more.
“Still, it’s cool,” said Ron, a little defensively. “And from what they said, Dumbledore invented it himself!”
“I know but, surely he wouldn’t have singled you out in his will just to help us turn out the lights!”
“D’you think he knew the Ministry would confiscate his will and examine everything he’d left us?” asked Harry.
“Definitely,” said Hermione. “He couldn’t tell us in the will why he was leaving us these things, but that will doesn’t explain…”
“… why he couldn’t have given us a hint when he was alive?” asked Ron.
“Well, exactly,“ said Hermione, now flicking through The Tales of Beedle the Bard. ”If these things are important enough to pass on right under the nose of the Ministry, you’d think he’d have left us know why… unless he thought it was obvious?“
“Thought wrong, then, didn’t he?” said Ron. “I always said he was mental. Brilliant and everything, but cracked. Leaving Harry an old Snitch – what the hell was that about?”
“I’ve no idea,” said Hermione. “When Scrimgeour made you take it, Harry, I was so sure that something was going to happen!”
“Yeah, well,” said Harry, his pulse quickened as he raised the Snitch in his fingers. “I wasn’t going to try too hard in front of Scrimgeour was I?”
“What do you mean?” asked Hermione.
“The Snitch I caught in my first ever Quidditch match?” said Harry. “Don’t you remember?”
Hermione looked simply bemused. Ron, however, gasped, pointing frantically from Harry to the Snitch and back again until he found his voice.
“That was the one you nearly swallowed!”
“Exactly,” said Harry, and with his heart beating fast, he pressed his mouth to the Snitch.
It did not open. Frustration and bitter disappointment welled up inside him: He lowered the golden sphere, but then Hermione cried out.
“Writing! There’s writing on it, quick, look!” He nearly dropped the Snitch in surprise and excitement. Hermione was quite right. Engraved upon the smooth golden surface, where seconds before there had been nothing, were five words written in the thin, slanted handwriting that Harry recognized as Dumbledore’s I open at the close.
He had barely read them when the words vanished again.
“I open at the close…. What’s that supposed to mean?”
chanel outlet
cheap uggs on sale
burberry outlet
nike outlet store
cheap uggs for sale
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
“Outside Snape's office, yes,”
“Outside Snape's office, yes,” whispered Hermione, her eyes sparkling with tears, “with Luna. We hung around for ages outside it and nothing happened... we didn't
know what was going on upstairs, Ron had taken the map ... it was nearly midnight when Professor Flitwick came sprinting down into the dungeons. He was shouting about
Death Eaters in the castle, I don't think he really registered that Luna and I were there at all, he just burst his way into Snape's office and we heard him saying that
Snape had to go back with him and help and then we heard a loud thump and Snape came hurtling out of his room and he saw us and—and—”
“What?” Harry urged her.
“I was so stupid, Harry!” said Hermione in a high-pitched whisper. “He said Professor Flitwick had collapsed and that we should go and take care of him while he—
while he went to help fight the Death Eaters—”
She covered her face in shame and continued to talk into her fingers, so that her voice was muffled. “We went into his office to see if we could help Professor
Flitwick and found him unconscious on the floor... and oh, it's so obvious now, Snape must have Stupefied Flitwick, but we didn't realize, Harry, we didn't realize, we
just let Snape go!”
“It's not your fault,” said Lupin firmly. “Hermione, had you not obeyed Snape and got out of the way, he probably would have killed you and Luna.”
“So then he came upstairs,” said Harry, who was watching Snape running up the marble staircase in his mind's eye, his black robes billowing behind him as ever,
pulling his wand from under his cloak as he ascended, “and he found the place where you were all fighting...”
“We were in trouble, we were losing,” said Tonks in a low voice. “Gibbon was down, but the rest of the Death Eaters seemed ready to fight to the death. Neville had
been hurt, Bill had been savaged by Greyback... it was all dark... curses flying everywhere... the Malfoy boy had vanished, he must have slipped past, up the stairs...
then more of them ran after him, but one of them blocked the stairs behind them with some kind of curse... Neville ran at it and got thrown up into the air—”
“None of us could break through,” said Ron, “and that massive Death Eater was still firing off jinxes all over the place, they were bouncing off the walls and barely
missing us...”
“And then Snape was there,” said Tonks, “and then he wasn't—”
“I saw him running toward us, but that huge Death Eater's jinx just missed me right afterward and I ducked and lost track of things,” said Ginny.
“I saw him run straight through the cursed barrier as though it wasn't there,” said Lupin. “I tried to follow him, but was thrown back just like Neville...”
know what was going on upstairs, Ron had taken the map ... it was nearly midnight when Professor Flitwick came sprinting down into the dungeons. He was shouting about
Death Eaters in the castle, I don't think he really registered that Luna and I were there at all, he just burst his way into Snape's office and we heard him saying that
Snape had to go back with him and help and then we heard a loud thump and Snape came hurtling out of his room and he saw us and—and—”
“What?” Harry urged her.
“I was so stupid, Harry!” said Hermione in a high-pitched whisper. “He said Professor Flitwick had collapsed and that we should go and take care of him while he—
while he went to help fight the Death Eaters—”
She covered her face in shame and continued to talk into her fingers, so that her voice was muffled. “We went into his office to see if we could help Professor
Flitwick and found him unconscious on the floor... and oh, it's so obvious now, Snape must have Stupefied Flitwick, but we didn't realize, Harry, we didn't realize, we
just let Snape go!”
“It's not your fault,” said Lupin firmly. “Hermione, had you not obeyed Snape and got out of the way, he probably would have killed you and Luna.”
“So then he came upstairs,” said Harry, who was watching Snape running up the marble staircase in his mind's eye, his black robes billowing behind him as ever,
pulling his wand from under his cloak as he ascended, “and he found the place where you were all fighting...”
“We were in trouble, we were losing,” said Tonks in a low voice. “Gibbon was down, but the rest of the Death Eaters seemed ready to fight to the death. Neville had
been hurt, Bill had been savaged by Greyback... it was all dark... curses flying everywhere... the Malfoy boy had vanished, he must have slipped past, up the stairs...
then more of them ran after him, but one of them blocked the stairs behind them with some kind of curse... Neville ran at it and got thrown up into the air—”
“None of us could break through,” said Ron, “and that massive Death Eater was still firing off jinxes all over the place, they were bouncing off the walls and barely
missing us...”
“And then Snape was there,” said Tonks, “and then he wasn't—”
“I saw him running toward us, but that huge Death Eater's jinx just missed me right afterward and I ducked and lost track of things,” said Ginny.
“I saw him run straight through the cursed barrier as though it wasn't there,” said Lupin. “I tried to follow him, but was thrown back just like Neville...”
Almost against his will he glanced from Ron to Hermione
Almost against his will he glanced from Ron to Hermione, both of whom looked devastated.
“I messed up, Harry,” said Ron bleakly. “We did like you told us: we checked the Marauder's Map and we couldn't see Malfoy on it, so we thought he must be in the
Room of Requirement, so me, Ginny, and Neville went to keep watch on it... but Malfoy got past us.”
“He came out of the Room about an hour after we started keeping watch,” said Ginny. “He was on his own, clutching that awful shriveled arm—”
“His Hand of Glory,” said Ron. “Gives light only to the holder, remember?”
“Anyway,” Ginny went on, “he must have been checking whether the coast was clear to let the Death Eaters out, because the moment he saw us he threw something into
the air and it all went pitch-black—”
“—Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder,” said Ron bitterly. “Fred and George's. I'm going to be having a word with them about who they let buy their products.”
“We tried everything, Lumos, Incendio,” said Ginny. “Nothing would penetrate the darkness; all we could do was grope our way out of the corridor again, and meanwhile
we could hear people rushing past us. Obviously Malfoy could see because of that hand thing and was guiding them, but we didn't dare use any curses or anything in case
we hit each other, and by the time we'd reached a corridor that was light, they'd gone.”
“Luckily,” said Lupin hoarsely, “Ron, Ginny, and Neville ran into us almost immediately and told us what had happened. We found the Death Eaters minutes later,
heading in the direction of the Astronomy Tower. Malfoy obviously hadn't expected more people to be on the watch; he seemed to have exhausted his supply of Darkness
Powder, at any rate. A fight broke out, they scattered and we gave chase. One of them, Gibbon, broke away and headed up the tower stairs—”
“To set off the Mark?” asked Harry.
“He must have done, yes, they must have arranged that before they left the Room of Requirement,” said Lupin. “But I don't think Gibbon liked the idea of waiting up
there alone for Dumbledore, because he came running back downstairs to rejoin the fight and was hit by a Killing Curse that just missed me.”
“So if Ron was watching the Room of Requirement with Ginny and Neville,” said Harry, turning to Hermione, “were you—?”
“I messed up, Harry,” said Ron bleakly. “We did like you told us: we checked the Marauder's Map and we couldn't see Malfoy on it, so we thought he must be in the
Room of Requirement, so me, Ginny, and Neville went to keep watch on it... but Malfoy got past us.”
“He came out of the Room about an hour after we started keeping watch,” said Ginny. “He was on his own, clutching that awful shriveled arm—”
“His Hand of Glory,” said Ron. “Gives light only to the holder, remember?”
“Anyway,” Ginny went on, “he must have been checking whether the coast was clear to let the Death Eaters out, because the moment he saw us he threw something into
the air and it all went pitch-black—”
“—Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder,” said Ron bitterly. “Fred and George's. I'm going to be having a word with them about who they let buy their products.”
“We tried everything, Lumos, Incendio,” said Ginny. “Nothing would penetrate the darkness; all we could do was grope our way out of the corridor again, and meanwhile
we could hear people rushing past us. Obviously Malfoy could see because of that hand thing and was guiding them, but we didn't dare use any curses or anything in case
we hit each other, and by the time we'd reached a corridor that was light, they'd gone.”
“Luckily,” said Lupin hoarsely, “Ron, Ginny, and Neville ran into us almost immediately and told us what had happened. We found the Death Eaters minutes later,
heading in the direction of the Astronomy Tower. Malfoy obviously hadn't expected more people to be on the watch; he seemed to have exhausted his supply of Darkness
Powder, at any rate. A fight broke out, they scattered and we gave chase. One of them, Gibbon, broke away and headed up the tower stairs—”
“To set off the Mark?” asked Harry.
“He must have done, yes, they must have arranged that before they left the Room of Requirement,” said Lupin. “But I don't think Gibbon liked the idea of waiting up
there alone for Dumbledore, because he came running back downstairs to rejoin the fight and was hit by a Killing Curse that just missed me.”
“So if Ron was watching the Room of Requirement with Ginny and Neville,” said Harry, turning to Hermione, “were you—?”
“Snape,” repeated McGonagall faintly,
“Snape,” repeated McGonagall faintly, falling into the chair. “We all wondered... but he trusted... always... Snape... I can't believe it...”
“Snape was a highly accomplished Occlumens,” said Lupin, his voice uncharacteristically harsh. “We always knew that.”
“But Dumbledore swore he was on our side!” whispered Tonks. “I always thought Dumbledore must know something about Snape that we didn't...” .
“He always hinted that he had an ironclad reason for trusting Snape,” muttered Professor McGonagall, now dabbing at the corners of her leaking eyes with a tartan-
edged handkerchief. “I mean... with Snape's history ... of course people were bound to wonder... but Dumbledore told me explicitly that Snape's repentance was
absolutely genuine... wouldn't hear a word against him!”
“I'd love to know what Snape told him to convince him,” said Tonks.
“I know,” said Harry, and they all turned to look at him. “Snape passed Voldemort the information that made Voldemort hunt down my mum and dad. Then Snape told
Dumbledore he hadn't realized what he was doing, he was really sorry he'd done it, sorry that they were dead.”
They all stared at him.
“And Dumbledore believed that?” said Lupin incredulously. “Dumbledore believed Snape was sorry James was dead? Snape hated James...”
“And he didn't think my mother was worth a damn either,” said Harry, “because she was Muggle-born... ‘Mudblood,’ he called her...”
Nobody asked how Harry knew this. All of them seemed to be lost in horrified shock, trying to digest the monstrous truth of what had happened.
“This is all my fault,” said Professor McGonagall suddenly. She looked disoriented, twisting her wet handkerchief in her hands. “My fault. I sent Filius to fetch
Snape tonight, I actually sent for him to come and help us! If I hadn't alerted Snape to what was going on, he might never have joined forces with the Death Eaters. I
don't think he knew they were there before Filius told him, I don't think he knew they were coming.”
“It isn't your fault, Minerva,” said Lupin firmly. “We all wanted more help, we were glad to think Snape was on his way....”
“So when he arrived at the fight, he joined in on the Death Eaters’ side?” asked Harry, who wanted every detail of Snape's duplicity and infamy, feverishly
collecting more reasons to hate him, to swear vengeance.
“I don't know exactly how it happened,” said Professor McGonagall distractedly. “It's all so confusing... Dumbledore had told us that he would be leaving the school
for a few hours and that we were to patrol the corridors just in case... Remus, Bill, and Nymphadora were to join us ... and so we patrolled. All seemed quiet. Every
secret passageway out of the school was covered. We knew nobody could fly in. There were powerful enchantments on every entrance into the castle. I still don't know how
the Death Eaters can possibly have entered...”
“I do,” said Harry, and he explained, briefly, about the pair of Vanishing Cabinets and the magical pathway they formed. “So they got in through the Room of
Requirement.”
“Snape was a highly accomplished Occlumens,” said Lupin, his voice uncharacteristically harsh. “We always knew that.”
“But Dumbledore swore he was on our side!” whispered Tonks. “I always thought Dumbledore must know something about Snape that we didn't...” .
“He always hinted that he had an ironclad reason for trusting Snape,” muttered Professor McGonagall, now dabbing at the corners of her leaking eyes with a tartan-
edged handkerchief. “I mean... with Snape's history ... of course people were bound to wonder... but Dumbledore told me explicitly that Snape's repentance was
absolutely genuine... wouldn't hear a word against him!”
“I'd love to know what Snape told him to convince him,” said Tonks.
“I know,” said Harry, and they all turned to look at him. “Snape passed Voldemort the information that made Voldemort hunt down my mum and dad. Then Snape told
Dumbledore he hadn't realized what he was doing, he was really sorry he'd done it, sorry that they were dead.”
They all stared at him.
“And Dumbledore believed that?” said Lupin incredulously. “Dumbledore believed Snape was sorry James was dead? Snape hated James...”
“And he didn't think my mother was worth a damn either,” said Harry, “because she was Muggle-born... ‘Mudblood,’ he called her...”
Nobody asked how Harry knew this. All of them seemed to be lost in horrified shock, trying to digest the monstrous truth of what had happened.
“This is all my fault,” said Professor McGonagall suddenly. She looked disoriented, twisting her wet handkerchief in her hands. “My fault. I sent Filius to fetch
Snape tonight, I actually sent for him to come and help us! If I hadn't alerted Snape to what was going on, he might never have joined forces with the Death Eaters. I
don't think he knew they were there before Filius told him, I don't think he knew they were coming.”
“It isn't your fault, Minerva,” said Lupin firmly. “We all wanted more help, we were glad to think Snape was on his way....”
“So when he arrived at the fight, he joined in on the Death Eaters’ side?” asked Harry, who wanted every detail of Snape's duplicity and infamy, feverishly
collecting more reasons to hate him, to swear vengeance.
“I don't know exactly how it happened,” said Professor McGonagall distractedly. “It's all so confusing... Dumbledore had told us that he would be leaving the school
for a few hours and that we were to patrol the corridors just in case... Remus, Bill, and Nymphadora were to join us ... and so we patrolled. All seemed quiet. Every
secret passageway out of the school was covered. We knew nobody could fly in. There were powerful enchantments on every entrance into the castle. I still don't know how
the Death Eaters can possibly have entered...”
“I do,” said Harry, and he explained, briefly, about the pair of Vanishing Cabinets and the magical pathway they formed. “So they got in through the Room of
Requirement.”
Harry remembered how Snape
Harry remembered how Snape had mended Malfoy's Sectumsempra wounds so easily with his
wand.
“Can't you fix them with a charm or something?” he asked the matron.
“No charm will work on these,” said Madam Pomfrey. “I've tried everything I know, but there is no cure for werewolf bites.”
“But he wasn't bitten at the full moon,” said Ron, who was gazing down into his brother's face as though he could somehow force him to mend just by staring.
“Greyback hadn't transformed, so surely Bill won't be a—a real—?”
He looked uncertainly at Lupin.
“No, I don't think that Bill will be a true werewolf,” said Lupin, “but that does not mean that there won't be some contamination. Those are cursed wounds. They are
unlikely ever to heal fully, and—and Bill might have some wolfish characteristics from now on.”
“Dumbledore might know something that'd work, though,” Ron said. “Where is he? Bill fought those maniacs on Dumbledore's orders, Dumbledore owes him, he can't leave
him in this state—”
“Ron—Dumbledore's dead,” said Ginny.
“No!” Lupin looked wildly from Ginny to Harry, as though hoping the latter might contradict her, but when Harry did nor, Lupin collapsed into a chair beside Bill's
bed, his hands over his face. Harry had never seen Lupin lose control before; he felt as though he was intruding upon something private, indecent. He turned away and
caught Ron's eye instead, exchanging in silence a look that confirmed what Ginny had said.
“How did he die?” whispered Tonks. “How did it happen?”
“Snape killed him,” said Harry. “I was there, I saw it. We arrived back on the Astronomy Tower because that's where the Mark was... Dumbledore was ill, he was weak,
but I think he realized it was a trap when we heard footsteps running up the stairs. He immobilized me, I couldn't do anything, I was under the Invisibility Cloak—and
then Malfoy came through the door and disarmed him—”
Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth and Ron groaned. Luna's mouth trembled.
“—more Death Eaters arrived—and then Snape—and Snape did it. The Avada Kedavra.” Harry couldn't go on.
Madam Pomfrey burst into tears. Nobody paid her any attention except Ginny, who whispered, “Shh! Listen!”
Gulping, Madam Pomfrey pressed her fingers to her mouth, her eyes wide. Somewhere out in the darkness, a phoenix was singing in a way Harry had never heard before: a
stricken lament of terrible beauty. And Harry felt, as he had felt about phoenix song before, that the music was inside him, not without: it was his own grief turned
magically to song that echoed across the grounds and through the castle windows.
How long they all stood there, listening, he did not know, nor why it seemed to ease their pain a little to listen to the sound of their mourning, but it felt like a
long time later that the hospital door opened again and Professor McGonagall entered the ward. Like all the rest, she bore marks of the recent battle: there were grazes
on her face and her robes were ripped.
“Molly and Arthur are on their way,” she said, and the spell of the music was broken: everyone roused themselves as though coming out of trances, turning again to
look at Bill, or else to rub their own eyes, shake their heads. “Harry, what happened? According to Hagrid you were with Professor Dumbledore when he—when it
happened. He says Professor Snape was involved in some—”
“Snape killed Dumbledore,” said Harry.
She stared at him for a moment, then swayed alarmingly; Madam Pomfrey, who seemed to have pulled herself together, ran forward, conjuring a chair from thin air, which
she pushed under McGonagall.
wand.
“Can't you fix them with a charm or something?” he asked the matron.
“No charm will work on these,” said Madam Pomfrey. “I've tried everything I know, but there is no cure for werewolf bites.”
“But he wasn't bitten at the full moon,” said Ron, who was gazing down into his brother's face as though he could somehow force him to mend just by staring.
“Greyback hadn't transformed, so surely Bill won't be a—a real—?”
He looked uncertainly at Lupin.
“No, I don't think that Bill will be a true werewolf,” said Lupin, “but that does not mean that there won't be some contamination. Those are cursed wounds. They are
unlikely ever to heal fully, and—and Bill might have some wolfish characteristics from now on.”
“Dumbledore might know something that'd work, though,” Ron said. “Where is he? Bill fought those maniacs on Dumbledore's orders, Dumbledore owes him, he can't leave
him in this state—”
“Ron—Dumbledore's dead,” said Ginny.
“No!” Lupin looked wildly from Ginny to Harry, as though hoping the latter might contradict her, but when Harry did nor, Lupin collapsed into a chair beside Bill's
bed, his hands over his face. Harry had never seen Lupin lose control before; he felt as though he was intruding upon something private, indecent. He turned away and
caught Ron's eye instead, exchanging in silence a look that confirmed what Ginny had said.
“How did he die?” whispered Tonks. “How did it happen?”
“Snape killed him,” said Harry. “I was there, I saw it. We arrived back on the Astronomy Tower because that's where the Mark was... Dumbledore was ill, he was weak,
but I think he realized it was a trap when we heard footsteps running up the stairs. He immobilized me, I couldn't do anything, I was under the Invisibility Cloak—and
then Malfoy came through the door and disarmed him—”
Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth and Ron groaned. Luna's mouth trembled.
“—more Death Eaters arrived—and then Snape—and Snape did it. The Avada Kedavra.” Harry couldn't go on.
Madam Pomfrey burst into tears. Nobody paid her any attention except Ginny, who whispered, “Shh! Listen!”
Gulping, Madam Pomfrey pressed her fingers to her mouth, her eyes wide. Somewhere out in the darkness, a phoenix was singing in a way Harry had never heard before: a
stricken lament of terrible beauty. And Harry felt, as he had felt about phoenix song before, that the music was inside him, not without: it was his own grief turned
magically to song that echoed across the grounds and through the castle windows.
How long they all stood there, listening, he did not know, nor why it seemed to ease their pain a little to listen to the sound of their mourning, but it felt like a
long time later that the hospital door opened again and Professor McGonagall entered the ward. Like all the rest, she bore marks of the recent battle: there were grazes
on her face and her robes were ripped.
“Molly and Arthur are on their way,” she said, and the spell of the music was broken: everyone roused themselves as though coming out of trances, turning again to
look at Bill, or else to rub their own eyes, shake their heads. “Harry, what happened? According to Hagrid you were with Professor Dumbledore when he—when it
happened. He says Professor Snape was involved in some—”
“Snape killed Dumbledore,” said Harry.
She stared at him for a moment, then swayed alarmingly; Madam Pomfrey, who seemed to have pulled herself together, ran forward, conjuring a chair from thin air, which
she pushed under McGonagall.
Chapter 29 The Pheonix Lament
Chapter 29 The Pheonix Lament
“C'mere, Harry ...”
“No.”
“Yeh can’ stay here, Harry... come on, now...”
“No.”
He did not want to leave Dumbledore's side, he did not want to move anywhere. Hagrid's hand on his shoulder was trembling. Then another voice said, “Harry, come on.”
A much smaller and warmer hand had enclosed his and was pulling him upward. He obeyed its pressure without really thinking about it. Only as he walked blindly back
through the crowd did he realize, from a trace of flowery scent on the air, that it was Ginny who was leading him back into the castle. Incomprehensible voices battered
him, sobs and shouts and wails stabbed the night, but Harry and Ginny walked on, back up the steps into the entrance hall. Faces swam on the edges of Harry's vision,
people were peering at him, whispering, wondering, and Gryffindor rubies glistened on the floor like drops of blood as they made their way toward the marble staircase.
“We're going to the hospital wing,” said Ginny.
“I'm not hurt,” said Harry.
“It's McGonagall's orders,” said Ginny. “Everyone's up there, Ron and Hermione and Lupin and everyone —”
Fear stirred in Harry's chest again: he had forgotten the inert figures he had left behind.
“Ginny, who else is dead?”
“Don't worry, none of us.”
“But the Dark Mark—Malfoy said he stepped over a body—”
“He stepped over Bill, but it's all right, he's alive.”
There was something in her voice, however, that Harry knew boded ill.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I'm sure... he's a—a bit of a mess, that's all. Greyback attacked him. Madam Pomfrey says he won't—won't look the same anymore...”
Ginny's voice trembled a little.
“We don't really know what the after-effects will be. I mean, Greyback being a werewolf, but not transformed at the time.”
“But the other... there were other bodies on the ground...”
“Neville and Professor Flitwick are both hurt, but Madam Pomfrey says they'll be all right. And a Death Eater's dead, he got hit by a Killing Curse that huge blond one
was firing off everywhere—Harry, if we hadn't had your Felix potion, I think we'd all have been killed, but everything seemed to just miss us—”
They had reached the hospital wing. Pushing open the doors, Harry saw Neville lying, apparently asleep, in a bed near the door. Ron, Hermione, Luna, Tonks, and Lupin
were gathered around another bed near the far end of the ward. At the sound of the doors opening, they all looked up. Hermione ran to Harry and hugged him; Lupin moved
forward too, looking anxious.
“Are you all right, Harry?”
“I'm fine.... how's Bill?”
Nobody answered. Harry looked over Hermione's shoulder and saw an unrecognizable face lying on Bill's pillow, so badly slashed and ripped that he looked grotesque.
Madam Pomfrey was dabbing at his wounds with some harsh-smelling green ointment
“C'mere, Harry ...”
“No.”
“Yeh can’ stay here, Harry... come on, now...”
“No.”
He did not want to leave Dumbledore's side, he did not want to move anywhere. Hagrid's hand on his shoulder was trembling. Then another voice said, “Harry, come on.”
A much smaller and warmer hand had enclosed his and was pulling him upward. He obeyed its pressure without really thinking about it. Only as he walked blindly back
through the crowd did he realize, from a trace of flowery scent on the air, that it was Ginny who was leading him back into the castle. Incomprehensible voices battered
him, sobs and shouts and wails stabbed the night, but Harry and Ginny walked on, back up the steps into the entrance hall. Faces swam on the edges of Harry's vision,
people were peering at him, whispering, wondering, and Gryffindor rubies glistened on the floor like drops of blood as they made their way toward the marble staircase.
“We're going to the hospital wing,” said Ginny.
“I'm not hurt,” said Harry.
“It's McGonagall's orders,” said Ginny. “Everyone's up there, Ron and Hermione and Lupin and everyone —”
Fear stirred in Harry's chest again: he had forgotten the inert figures he had left behind.
“Ginny, who else is dead?”
“Don't worry, none of us.”
“But the Dark Mark—Malfoy said he stepped over a body—”
“He stepped over Bill, but it's all right, he's alive.”
There was something in her voice, however, that Harry knew boded ill.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I'm sure... he's a—a bit of a mess, that's all. Greyback attacked him. Madam Pomfrey says he won't—won't look the same anymore...”
Ginny's voice trembled a little.
“We don't really know what the after-effects will be. I mean, Greyback being a werewolf, but not transformed at the time.”
“But the other... there were other bodies on the ground...”
“Neville and Professor Flitwick are both hurt, but Madam Pomfrey says they'll be all right. And a Death Eater's dead, he got hit by a Killing Curse that huge blond one
was firing off everywhere—Harry, if we hadn't had your Felix potion, I think we'd all have been killed, but everything seemed to just miss us—”
They had reached the hospital wing. Pushing open the doors, Harry saw Neville lying, apparently asleep, in a bed near the door. Ron, Hermione, Luna, Tonks, and Lupin
were gathered around another bed near the far end of the ward. At the sound of the doors opening, they all looked up. Hermione ran to Harry and hugged him; Lupin moved
forward too, looking anxious.
“Are you all right, Harry?”
“I'm fine.... how's Bill?”
Nobody answered. Harry looked over Hermione's shoulder and saw an unrecognizable face lying on Bill's pillow, so badly slashed and ripped that he looked grotesque.
Madam Pomfrey was dabbing at his wounds with some harsh-smelling green ointment
Thursday, November 25, 2010
“As he moved up the schoo
“As he moved up the school, he gathered about him a group of dedicated friends; I call them that, for want of a better term, although as I have already indicated,
Riddle undoubtedly felt no affection for any of them. This group had a kind of dark glamour within the castle. They were a motley collection; a mixture of the weak
seeking protection, the ambitious seeking some shared glory, and the thuggish gravitating toward a leader who could show them more refined forms of cruelty. In other
words, they were the forerunners of the Death Eaters, and indeed some of them became the first Death Eaters after leaving Hogwarts.
“Rigidly controlled by Riddle, they were never detected in open wrong-doing, although their seven years at Hogwarts were marked by a number of nasty incidents to which
they were never satisfactorily linked, the most serious of which was, of course, the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, which resulted in the death of a girl. As you
know, Hagrid was wrongly accused of that crime.
“I have not been able to find many memories of Riddle at Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore, placing his withered hand on the Pensieve. “Few who knew him then are prepared
to talk about him; they are too terrified. What I know, I found out after he had left Hogwarts, after much painstaking effort, after tracing those few who could be
tricked into speaking, after searching old records and questioning Muggle and wizard witnesses alike.
“Those whom I could persuade to talk told me that Riddle was obsessed with his parentage. This is understandable, of course; he had grown up in an orphanage and
naturally wished to know how he came to be there. It seems that he searched in vain for some trace of Tom Riddle senior on the shields in the trophy room, on the lists
of prefects in the old school records, even in the books of Wizarding history. Finally he was forced to accept that his father had never set foot in Hogwarts. I believe
that it was then that he dropped the name forever, assumed the identity of Lord Voldemort, and began his investigations into his previously despised mother's family—
the woman whom, you will remember, he had thought could not be a witch if she had succumbed to the shameful human weakness of death.
“All he had to go upon was the single name ‘Marvolo,’ which he knew from those who ran the orphanage had been his mother's father's name. Finally, after painstaking
research, through old books of Wizarding families, he discovered the existence of Slytherin's surviving line. In the summer of his sixteenth year, he left the orphanage
to which he returned annually and set off to find his Gaunt relatives. And now, Harry, if you will stand ...”
Dumbledore rose, and Harry saw that he was again holding a small crystal bottle filled with swirling, pearly memory.
“I was very lucky to collect this,” he said, as he poured the gleaming mass into the Pensieve. “As you will understand when we have experienced it. Shall we?”
Riddle undoubtedly felt no affection for any of them. This group had a kind of dark glamour within the castle. They were a motley collection; a mixture of the weak
seeking protection, the ambitious seeking some shared glory, and the thuggish gravitating toward a leader who could show them more refined forms of cruelty. In other
words, they were the forerunners of the Death Eaters, and indeed some of them became the first Death Eaters after leaving Hogwarts.
“Rigidly controlled by Riddle, they were never detected in open wrong-doing, although their seven years at Hogwarts were marked by a number of nasty incidents to which
they were never satisfactorily linked, the most serious of which was, of course, the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, which resulted in the death of a girl. As you
know, Hagrid was wrongly accused of that crime.
“I have not been able to find many memories of Riddle at Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore, placing his withered hand on the Pensieve. “Few who knew him then are prepared
to talk about him; they are too terrified. What I know, I found out after he had left Hogwarts, after much painstaking effort, after tracing those few who could be
tricked into speaking, after searching old records and questioning Muggle and wizard witnesses alike.
“Those whom I could persuade to talk told me that Riddle was obsessed with his parentage. This is understandable, of course; he had grown up in an orphanage and
naturally wished to know how he came to be there. It seems that he searched in vain for some trace of Tom Riddle senior on the shields in the trophy room, on the lists
of prefects in the old school records, even in the books of Wizarding history. Finally he was forced to accept that his father had never set foot in Hogwarts. I believe
that it was then that he dropped the name forever, assumed the identity of Lord Voldemort, and began his investigations into his previously despised mother's family—
the woman whom, you will remember, he had thought could not be a witch if she had succumbed to the shameful human weakness of death.
“All he had to go upon was the single name ‘Marvolo,’ which he knew from those who ran the orphanage had been his mother's father's name. Finally, after painstaking
research, through old books of Wizarding families, he discovered the existence of Slytherin's surviving line. In the summer of his sixteenth year, he left the orphanage
to which he returned annually and set off to find his Gaunt relatives. And now, Harry, if you will stand ...”
Dumbledore rose, and Harry saw that he was again holding a small crystal bottle filled with swirling, pearly memory.
“I was very lucky to collect this,” he said, as he poured the gleaming mass into the Pensieve. “As you will understand when we have experienced it. Shall we?”
Harry did not say anything to this;
Harry did not say anything to this; he still felt angry at the reception his confidences had received, but could not see what was to be gained by arguing further.
“So,” said Dumbledore, in a ringing voice, “we meet this evening to continue the tale of Tom Riddle, whom we left last lesson poised on the threshold of his years at
Hogwarts. You will remember how excited he was to hear that he was a wizard, that he refused my company on a trip to Diagon Alley, and that I, in turn, warned him
against continued thievery when he arrived at school.
“Well, the start of the school year arrived and with it came Tom Riddle, a quiet boy in his second-hand robes, who lined up with the other first years to be sorted. He
was placed in Slytherin House almost the moment that the Sorting Hat touched his head,” continued Dumbledore, waving his blackened hand toward the shelf over his head
where the Sorting Hat sat, ancient and unmoving. “How soon Riddle learned that the famous founder of the House could talk to snakes, I do not know — perhaps that very
evening. The knowledge can only have excited him and increased his sense of self-importance.
“However, if he was frightening or impressing fellow Slytherins with displays of Parseltongue in their common room, no hint of it reached the staff. He showed no sign
of outward arrogance or aggression at all. As an unusually talented and very good-looking orphan, he naturally drew attention and sympathy from the staff almost from
the moment of his arrival. He seemed police, quiet, and thirsty for knowledge. Nearly all were most favorably impressed by him.”
“Didn't you tell them, sir, what he'd been like when you met him at the orphanage?” asked Harry.
“No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I
chose to give him that chance.”
Dumbledore paused and looked inquiringly at Harry, who had opened his mouth to speak. Here, again, was Dumbledore's tendency to trust people in spite of overwhelming
evidence that they did not deserve it! But then Harry remembered something...
“But you didn't really trust him, sir, did you? He told me... the Riddle who came out of that diary said, ‘Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other
teachers did'.”
“Let us say that I did not take it for granted that he was trustworthy,” said Dumbledore. “I had, as I have already indicated, resolved to keep a close eye upon him,
and so I did. I cannot pretend that I gleaned a great deal from my observations at first. He was very guarded with me; he felt, I am sure, that in the thrill of
discovering his true identity he had told me a little too much. He was careful never to reveal as much again, but he could not take back what he had let slip in his
excitement, nor what Mrs. Cole had confided in me. However, he had the sense never to try and charm me as he charmed so many of my colleagues.
“So,” said Dumbledore, in a ringing voice, “we meet this evening to continue the tale of Tom Riddle, whom we left last lesson poised on the threshold of his years at
Hogwarts. You will remember how excited he was to hear that he was a wizard, that he refused my company on a trip to Diagon Alley, and that I, in turn, warned him
against continued thievery when he arrived at school.
“Well, the start of the school year arrived and with it came Tom Riddle, a quiet boy in his second-hand robes, who lined up with the other first years to be sorted. He
was placed in Slytherin House almost the moment that the Sorting Hat touched his head,” continued Dumbledore, waving his blackened hand toward the shelf over his head
where the Sorting Hat sat, ancient and unmoving. “How soon Riddle learned that the famous founder of the House could talk to snakes, I do not know — perhaps that very
evening. The knowledge can only have excited him and increased his sense of self-importance.
“However, if he was frightening or impressing fellow Slytherins with displays of Parseltongue in their common room, no hint of it reached the staff. He showed no sign
of outward arrogance or aggression at all. As an unusually talented and very good-looking orphan, he naturally drew attention and sympathy from the staff almost from
the moment of his arrival. He seemed police, quiet, and thirsty for knowledge. Nearly all were most favorably impressed by him.”
“Didn't you tell them, sir, what he'd been like when you met him at the orphanage?” asked Harry.
“No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I
chose to give him that chance.”
Dumbledore paused and looked inquiringly at Harry, who had opened his mouth to speak. Here, again, was Dumbledore's tendency to trust people in spite of overwhelming
evidence that they did not deserve it! But then Harry remembered something...
“But you didn't really trust him, sir, did you? He told me... the Riddle who came out of that diary said, ‘Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other
teachers did'.”
“Let us say that I did not take it for granted that he was trustworthy,” said Dumbledore. “I had, as I have already indicated, resolved to keep a close eye upon him,
and so I did. I cannot pretend that I gleaned a great deal from my observations at first. He was very guarded with me; he felt, I am sure, that in the thrill of
discovering his true identity he had told me a little too much. He was careful never to reveal as much again, but he could not take back what he had let slip in his
excitement, nor what Mrs. Cole had confided in me. However, he had the sense never to try and charm me as he charmed so many of my colleagues.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
But Ron was careful not to be flippant about Voldemort
But Ron was careful not to be flippant about Voldemort over the next few days. Saturday dawned without any more outbursts from Mrs. Weasley, though she seemed very tense at breakfast. Bill, who would be staying at home with Fleur (much to Hermione and Ginny's pleasure), passed a full money bag across the table to Harry.
“Where's mine?” demanded Ron at once, his eyes wide.
“That's already Harry's, idiot,” said Bill. “I got it out of your vault for you, Harry, because it's taking about five hours for the public to get to their gold at the moment, the goblins have tightened security so much. Two days ago Arkie Philpott had a Probity Probe stuck up his... Well, trust me, this way's easier.”
“Thanks, Bill,” said Harry, pocketing his gold.
“'E is always so thoughtful,” purred Fleur adoringly, stroking Bill's nose. Ginny mimed vomiting into her cereal behind Fleur. Harry choked over his cornflakes, and Ron thumped him on the back.
It was an overcast, murky day. One of the special Ministry of Magic cars, in which Harry had ridden once before, was awaiting them in the front yard when they emerged from the house, pulling on their cloaks.
“It's good Dad can get us these again,” said Ron appreciatively, stretching luxuriously as the car moved smoothly away from the Burrow, Bill and Fleur waving from the kitchen window. He, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were all sitting in roomy comfort in the wide backseat.
“Don't get used to it, it's only because of Harry,” said Mr. Weasley over his shoulder. He and Mrs. Weasley were in front with the Ministry driver; the front passenger seat had obligingly stretched into what resembled a two-seater sofa. “He's been given top-grade security status. And we'll be joining up with additional security at the Leaky Cauldron too.”
Harry said nothing; he did not much fancy doing his shopping while surrounded by a battalion of Aurors. He had stowed his Invisibility Cloak in his backpack and felt that, if that was good enough for Dumbledore, it ought to be good enough for the Ministry, though now he came to think of it, he was not sure the Ministry knew about his cloak.
“Here you are, then,” said the driver, a surprisingly short while later, speaking for the first time as he slowed in Charing Cross Road and stopped outside the Leaky Cauldron. “I'm to wait for you, any idea how long you'll be?”
“A couple of hours, I expect,” said Mr. Weasley. “Ah, good, he's here!”
Harry imitated Mr. Weasley and peered through the window; his heart leapt. There were no Aurors waiting outside the inn, but instead the gigantic, black-bearded form of Rubeus Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, wearing a long beaverskin coat, beaming at the sight of Harry's face and oblivious to the startled stares of passing Muggles.
“Harry!” he boomed, sweeping Harry into a bone-crushing hug the moment Harry had stepped out of the car. “Buckbeak—Witherwings, I mean—yeh should see him, Harry, he's so happy ter be back in the open air—”
“Glad he's pleased,” said Harry, grinning as he massaged his ribs. “We didn't know ‘security’ meant you!”
“I know, jus’ like old times, innit? See, the Ministry wanted ter send a bunch o’ Aurors, but Dumbledore said I'd do,” said Hagrid proudly, throwing out his chest and tucking his thumbs into his pockets. “Lets get goin’ then—after yeh, Molly, Arthur—”
The Leaky Cauldron was, for the first time in Harry's memory, completely empty. Only Tom the landlord, wizened and toothless, remained of the old crowd. He looked up hopefully as they entered, but before he could speak, Hagrid said importantly, “Jus’ passin’ through today, Tom, sure yeh understand, Hogwarts business, yeh know.”
Tom nodded gloomily and returned to wiping glasses; Harry, Hermione, Hagrid, and the Weasleys walked through the bar and out into the chilly little courtyard at the back where the dustbins stood. Hagrid raised his pink umbrella and rapped a certain brick in the wall, which opened at once to form an archway onto a winding cobbled street. They stepped through the entrance and paused, looking around.
Diagon Alley had changed. The colorful, glittering window displays of spellbooks, potion ingredients, and cauldrons were lost to view, hidden behind the large Ministry of Magic posters that had been pasted over them. Most of these somber purple posters carried blown-up versions of the security advice on the Ministry pamphlets that had been sent out over the summer, but others bore moving black-and-white photographs of Death Eaters known to be on the loose. Bellatrix Lestrange was sneering from the front of the nearest apothecary. A few windows were boarded up, including those of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. On the other hand, a number of shabby-looking stalls had sprung up along the street. The nearest one, which had been erected outside Flourish and Blotts, under a striped, stained awning, had a cardboard sign pinned to its front:
AMULETS: Effective Against Werewolves, Dementors, and Inferi
A seedy-looking little wizard was rattling armfuls of silver symbols on chains at passersby.
“One for your little girl, madam?” he called at Mrs. Weasley as they passed, leering at Ginny. “Protect her pretty neck?”
“If I were on duty...” said Mr. Weasley, glaring angrily at the amulet seller.
“Yes, but don't go arresting anyone now, dear, we're in a hurry,” said Mrs. Weasley, nervously consulting a list. “I think we'd better do Madam Malkin's first, Hermione wants new dress robes, and Ron's showing much too much ankle in his school robes, and you must need new ones too, Harry, you've grown so much... come on, everyone...”
“Molly, it doesn't make sense for all of us to go to Madam Malkin's,” said Mr. Weasley. “Why don't those three go with Hagrid, and we can go to Flourish and Blotts and get everyone's school books?”
“I don't know,” said Mrs. Weasley anxiously, clearly torn between a desire to finish the shopping quickly and the wish to stick together in a pack. “Hagrid, do you think...—?”
“Don’ fret, they'll be fine with me, Molly,” said Hagrid soothingly, waving an airy hand the size of a dustbin lid. Mrs. Weasley did not look entirely convinced, but allowed the separation, scurrying off toward Flourish and Blotts with her husband and Ginny while Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid set off for Madam Malkin's.
Harry noticed that many of the people who passed them had the same harried, anxious look as Mrs. Weasley, and that nobody was stopping to talk anymore; the shoppers stayed together in their own tightly knit groups, moving intently about their business. Nobody seemed to be shopping alone.
“Migh’ be a bit of a squeeze in there with all o’ us,” said Hagrid, stopping outside Madam Malkin's and bending down to peer through the window. “I'll stand guard outside, all righ'?”
So Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the little shop together. It appeared, at first glance, to be empty, but no sooner had the door swung shut behind them than they heard a familiar voice issuing from behind a rack of dress robes in spangled green and blue.
“... not a child, in case you haven't noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone.”
There was a clucking noise and a voice Harry recognized as that of Madam Malkin, the owner, said, “Now, dear, your mother's quite right, none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore, it's nothing to do with being a child—”
“Watch where you're sticking that pin, will you!”
A teenage boy with a pale, pointed face and white-blond hair appeared from behind the rack, wearing a handsome set of dark green robes that glittered with pins around the hem and the edges of the sleeves. He strode to the mirror and examined himself; it was a few moments before he noticed Harry, Ron, and Hermione reflected over his shoulder. His light gray eyes narrowed.
“If you're wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in,” said Draco Malfoy.
“I don't think there's any need for language like that!” said Madam Malkin, scurrying out from behind the clothes rack holding a tape measure and a wand. “And I don't want wands drawn in my shop either!” she added hastily, for a glance toward the door had shown her Harry and Ron both standing there with their wands out and pointing at Malfoy.
Hermione, who was standing slightly behind them, whispered, “No, don't, honestly, it's not worth it. ”
“Yeah, like you'd dare do magic out of school,” sneered Malfoy. “Who blacked your eye, Granger? I want to send them flowers.”
louis vuitton outlet
chanel outlet store
nike outlet store
uggs outlet
uggs sale
cheap uggs
“Where's mine?” demanded Ron at once, his eyes wide.
“That's already Harry's, idiot,” said Bill. “I got it out of your vault for you, Harry, because it's taking about five hours for the public to get to their gold at the moment, the goblins have tightened security so much. Two days ago Arkie Philpott had a Probity Probe stuck up his... Well, trust me, this way's easier.”
“Thanks, Bill,” said Harry, pocketing his gold.
“'E is always so thoughtful,” purred Fleur adoringly, stroking Bill's nose. Ginny mimed vomiting into her cereal behind Fleur. Harry choked over his cornflakes, and Ron thumped him on the back.
It was an overcast, murky day. One of the special Ministry of Magic cars, in which Harry had ridden once before, was awaiting them in the front yard when they emerged from the house, pulling on their cloaks.
“It's good Dad can get us these again,” said Ron appreciatively, stretching luxuriously as the car moved smoothly away from the Burrow, Bill and Fleur waving from the kitchen window. He, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were all sitting in roomy comfort in the wide backseat.
“Don't get used to it, it's only because of Harry,” said Mr. Weasley over his shoulder. He and Mrs. Weasley were in front with the Ministry driver; the front passenger seat had obligingly stretched into what resembled a two-seater sofa. “He's been given top-grade security status. And we'll be joining up with additional security at the Leaky Cauldron too.”
Harry said nothing; he did not much fancy doing his shopping while surrounded by a battalion of Aurors. He had stowed his Invisibility Cloak in his backpack and felt that, if that was good enough for Dumbledore, it ought to be good enough for the Ministry, though now he came to think of it, he was not sure the Ministry knew about his cloak.
“Here you are, then,” said the driver, a surprisingly short while later, speaking for the first time as he slowed in Charing Cross Road and stopped outside the Leaky Cauldron. “I'm to wait for you, any idea how long you'll be?”
“A couple of hours, I expect,” said Mr. Weasley. “Ah, good, he's here!”
Harry imitated Mr. Weasley and peered through the window; his heart leapt. There were no Aurors waiting outside the inn, but instead the gigantic, black-bearded form of Rubeus Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, wearing a long beaverskin coat, beaming at the sight of Harry's face and oblivious to the startled stares of passing Muggles.
“Harry!” he boomed, sweeping Harry into a bone-crushing hug the moment Harry had stepped out of the car. “Buckbeak—Witherwings, I mean—yeh should see him, Harry, he's so happy ter be back in the open air—”
“Glad he's pleased,” said Harry, grinning as he massaged his ribs. “We didn't know ‘security’ meant you!”
“I know, jus’ like old times, innit? See, the Ministry wanted ter send a bunch o’ Aurors, but Dumbledore said I'd do,” said Hagrid proudly, throwing out his chest and tucking his thumbs into his pockets. “Lets get goin’ then—after yeh, Molly, Arthur—”
The Leaky Cauldron was, for the first time in Harry's memory, completely empty. Only Tom the landlord, wizened and toothless, remained of the old crowd. He looked up hopefully as they entered, but before he could speak, Hagrid said importantly, “Jus’ passin’ through today, Tom, sure yeh understand, Hogwarts business, yeh know.”
Tom nodded gloomily and returned to wiping glasses; Harry, Hermione, Hagrid, and the Weasleys walked through the bar and out into the chilly little courtyard at the back where the dustbins stood. Hagrid raised his pink umbrella and rapped a certain brick in the wall, which opened at once to form an archway onto a winding cobbled street. They stepped through the entrance and paused, looking around.
Diagon Alley had changed. The colorful, glittering window displays of spellbooks, potion ingredients, and cauldrons were lost to view, hidden behind the large Ministry of Magic posters that had been pasted over them. Most of these somber purple posters carried blown-up versions of the security advice on the Ministry pamphlets that had been sent out over the summer, but others bore moving black-and-white photographs of Death Eaters known to be on the loose. Bellatrix Lestrange was sneering from the front of the nearest apothecary. A few windows were boarded up, including those of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. On the other hand, a number of shabby-looking stalls had sprung up along the street. The nearest one, which had been erected outside Flourish and Blotts, under a striped, stained awning, had a cardboard sign pinned to its front:
AMULETS: Effective Against Werewolves, Dementors, and Inferi
A seedy-looking little wizard was rattling armfuls of silver symbols on chains at passersby.
“One for your little girl, madam?” he called at Mrs. Weasley as they passed, leering at Ginny. “Protect her pretty neck?”
“If I were on duty...” said Mr. Weasley, glaring angrily at the amulet seller.
“Yes, but don't go arresting anyone now, dear, we're in a hurry,” said Mrs. Weasley, nervously consulting a list. “I think we'd better do Madam Malkin's first, Hermione wants new dress robes, and Ron's showing much too much ankle in his school robes, and you must need new ones too, Harry, you've grown so much... come on, everyone...”
“Molly, it doesn't make sense for all of us to go to Madam Malkin's,” said Mr. Weasley. “Why don't those three go with Hagrid, and we can go to Flourish and Blotts and get everyone's school books?”
“I don't know,” said Mrs. Weasley anxiously, clearly torn between a desire to finish the shopping quickly and the wish to stick together in a pack. “Hagrid, do you think...—?”
“Don’ fret, they'll be fine with me, Molly,” said Hagrid soothingly, waving an airy hand the size of a dustbin lid. Mrs. Weasley did not look entirely convinced, but allowed the separation, scurrying off toward Flourish and Blotts with her husband and Ginny while Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid set off for Madam Malkin's.
Harry noticed that many of the people who passed them had the same harried, anxious look as Mrs. Weasley, and that nobody was stopping to talk anymore; the shoppers stayed together in their own tightly knit groups, moving intently about their business. Nobody seemed to be shopping alone.
“Migh’ be a bit of a squeeze in there with all o’ us,” said Hagrid, stopping outside Madam Malkin's and bending down to peer through the window. “I'll stand guard outside, all righ'?”
So Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the little shop together. It appeared, at first glance, to be empty, but no sooner had the door swung shut behind them than they heard a familiar voice issuing from behind a rack of dress robes in spangled green and blue.
“... not a child, in case you haven't noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone.”
There was a clucking noise and a voice Harry recognized as that of Madam Malkin, the owner, said, “Now, dear, your mother's quite right, none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore, it's nothing to do with being a child—”
“Watch where you're sticking that pin, will you!”
A teenage boy with a pale, pointed face and white-blond hair appeared from behind the rack, wearing a handsome set of dark green robes that glittered with pins around the hem and the edges of the sleeves. He strode to the mirror and examined himself; it was a few moments before he noticed Harry, Ron, and Hermione reflected over his shoulder. His light gray eyes narrowed.
“If you're wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in,” said Draco Malfoy.
“I don't think there's any need for language like that!” said Madam Malkin, scurrying out from behind the clothes rack holding a tape measure and a wand. “And I don't want wands drawn in my shop either!” she added hastily, for a glance toward the door had shown her Harry and Ron both standing there with their wands out and pointing at Malfoy.
Hermione, who was standing slightly behind them, whispered, “No, don't, honestly, it's not worth it. ”
“Yeah, like you'd dare do magic out of school,” sneered Malfoy. “Who blacked your eye, Granger? I want to send them flowers.”
louis vuitton outlet
chanel outlet store
nike outlet store
uggs outlet
uggs sale
cheap uggs
Monday, November 22, 2010
Chapter 59
Chapter 59
There were seventeen officers in all riding in this race. The race course was a large three-mile ring of the form of an ellipse in front of the pavilion. On this course nine obstacles had been arranged: the stream, a big and solid barrier five feet high, just before the pavilion, a dry ditch, a ditch full of water, a precipitous slope, an Irish barricade (one of the most difficult obstacles, consisting of a mound fenced with brushwood, beyond which was a ditch out of sight for the horses, so that the horse had to clear both obstacles or might be killed); then two more ditches filled with water, and one dry one; and the end of the race was just facing the pavilion. But the race began not in the ring, but two hundred yards away from it, and in that part of the course was the first obstacle, a dammed-up stream, seven feet in breadth, which the racers could leap or wade through as they preferred. Three times they were ranged ready to start, but each time some horse thrust itself out of line, and they had to begin again. The umpire who was starting them, Colonel Sestrin, was beginning to lose his temper, when at last for the fourth time he shouted "Away!" and the racers started.
Every eye, every opera glass, was turned on the brightly colored group of riders at the moment they were in line to start.
"They're off! They're starting!" was heard on all sides after the hush of expectation.
Vronsky looked round for the last time at his rivals
Vronsky looked round for the last time at his rivals. He knew that he would not see them during the race. Two were already riding forward to the point from which they were to start. Galtsin, a friend of Vronsky's and one of his more formidable rivals, was moving round a bay horse that would not let him mount. A little light hussar in tight riding breeches rode off at a gallop, crouched up like a cat on the saddle, in imitation of English jockeys. Prince Kuzovlev sat with a white face on his thoroughbred mare from the Grabovsky stud, while an English groom led her by the bridle. Vronsky and all his comrades knew Kuzovlev and his peculiarity of "weak nerves" and terrible vanity. They knew that he was afraid of everything, afraid of riding a spirited horse. But now, just because it was terrible, because people broke their necks, and there was a doctor standing at each obstacle, and an ambulance with a cross on it, and a sister of mercy, he had made up his mind to take part in the race. Their eyes met, and Vronsky gave him a friendly and encouraging nod. Only one he did not see, his chief rival, Mahotin on Gladiator.
"Don't be in a hurry," said Cord to Vronsky, "and remember one thing: don't hold her in at the fences, and don't urge her on; let her go as she likes."
"All right, all right," said Vronsky, taking the reins.
"If you can, lead the race; but don't lose heart till the last minute, even if you're behind."
Before the mare had time to move, Vronsky stepped with an agile, vigorous movement into the steel-toothed stirrup, and lightly and firmly seated himself on the creaking leather of the saddle. Getting his right foot in the stirrup, he smoothed the double reins, as he always did, between his fingers, and Cord let go.
As though she did not know which foot to put first, Frou-Frou started, dragging at the reins with her long neck, and as though she were on springs, shaking her rider from side to side. Cord quickened his step, following him. The excited mare, trying to shake off her rider first on one side and then the other, pulled at the reins, and Vronsky tried in vain with voice and hand to soothe her.
They were just reaching the dammed-up stream on their way to the starting point. Several of the riders were in front and several behind, when suddenly Vronsky heard the sound of a horse galloping in the mud behind him, and he was overtaken by Mahotin on his white-legged, lop-eared Gladiator. Mahotin smiled, showing his long teeth, but Vronsky looked angrily at him. He did not like him, and regarded him now as his most formidable rival. He was angry with him for galloping past and exciting his mare. Frou-Frou started into a gallop, her left foot forward, made two bounds, and fretting at the tightened reins, passed into a jolting trot, bumping her rider up and down. Cord, too, scowled, and followed Vronsky almost at a trot.
"Don't be in a hurry," said Cord to Vronsky, "and remember one thing: don't hold her in at the fences, and don't urge her on; let her go as she likes."
"All right, all right," said Vronsky, taking the reins.
"If you can, lead the race; but don't lose heart till the last minute, even if you're behind."
Before the mare had time to move, Vronsky stepped with an agile, vigorous movement into the steel-toothed stirrup, and lightly and firmly seated himself on the creaking leather of the saddle. Getting his right foot in the stirrup, he smoothed the double reins, as he always did, between his fingers, and Cord let go.
As though she did not know which foot to put first, Frou-Frou started, dragging at the reins with her long neck, and as though she were on springs, shaking her rider from side to side. Cord quickened his step, following him. The excited mare, trying to shake off her rider first on one side and then the other, pulled at the reins, and Vronsky tried in vain with voice and hand to soothe her.
They were just reaching the dammed-up stream on their way to the starting point. Several of the riders were in front and several behind, when suddenly Vronsky heard the sound of a horse galloping in the mud behind him, and he was overtaken by Mahotin on his white-legged, lop-eared Gladiator. Mahotin smiled, showing his long teeth, but Vronsky looked angrily at him. He did not like him, and regarded him now as his most formidable rival. He was angry with him for galloping past and exciting his mare. Frou-Frou started into a gallop, her left foot forward, made two bounds, and fretting at the tightened reins, passed into a jolting trot, bumping her rider up and down. Cord, too, scowled, and followed Vronsky almost at a trot.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
"How do you know? Yes."
"How do you know? Yes."
"Oh! what a happy time you are at," pursued Anna. "I remember, and I know that blue haze like the mist on the mountains in Switzerland. That mist which covers everything in that blissful time when childhood is just ending, and out of that vast circle, happy and gay, there is a path growing narrower and narrower, and it is delightful and alarming to enter the ballroom, bright and splendid as it is.... Who has not been through it?"
Kitty smiled without speaking. "But how did she go through it? How I should like to know all her love story!" thought Kitty, recalling the unromantic appearance of Alexey Alexandrovitch, her husband.
"I know something. Stiva told me, and I congratulate you. I liked him so much," Anna continued. "I met Vronsky at the railway station."
"Oh, was he there?" asked Kitty, blushing. "What was it Stiva told you?"
"Stiva gossiped about it all. And I should be so glad...I traveled yesterday with Vronsky's mother," she went on; "and his mother talked without a pause of him, he's her favorite. I know mothers are partial, but..."
"What did his mother tell you?"
"Oh, a great deal! And I know that he's her favorite; still one can see how chivalrous he is.... Well, for instance, she told me that he had wanted to give up all his property to his brother, that he had done something extraordinary when he was quite a child, saved a woman out of the water. He's a hero, in fact," said Anna, smiling and recollecting the two hundred roubles he had given at the station.
But she did not tell Kitty about the two hundred roubles. For some reason it was disagreeable to her to think of it. She felt that there was something that had to do with her in it, and something that ought not to have been.
"She pressed me very much to go and see her," Anna went on; "and I shall be glad to go to see her tomorrow. Stiva is staying a long while in Dolly's room, thank God," Anna added, changing the subject, and getting up, Kitty fancied, displeased with something.
"No, I'm first! No, I!" screamed the children, who had finished tea, running up to their Aunt Anna.
"All together," said Anna, and she ran laughing to meet them, and embraced and swung round all the throng of swarming children, shrieking with delight.
"Oh! what a happy time you are at," pursued Anna. "I remember, and I know that blue haze like the mist on the mountains in Switzerland. That mist which covers everything in that blissful time when childhood is just ending, and out of that vast circle, happy and gay, there is a path growing narrower and narrower, and it is delightful and alarming to enter the ballroom, bright and splendid as it is.... Who has not been through it?"
Kitty smiled without speaking. "But how did she go through it? How I should like to know all her love story!" thought Kitty, recalling the unromantic appearance of Alexey Alexandrovitch, her husband.
"I know something. Stiva told me, and I congratulate you. I liked him so much," Anna continued. "I met Vronsky at the railway station."
"Oh, was he there?" asked Kitty, blushing. "What was it Stiva told you?"
"Stiva gossiped about it all. And I should be so glad...I traveled yesterday with Vronsky's mother," she went on; "and his mother talked without a pause of him, he's her favorite. I know mothers are partial, but..."
"What did his mother tell you?"
"Oh, a great deal! And I know that he's her favorite; still one can see how chivalrous he is.... Well, for instance, she told me that he had wanted to give up all his property to his brother, that he had done something extraordinary when he was quite a child, saved a woman out of the water. He's a hero, in fact," said Anna, smiling and recollecting the two hundred roubles he had given at the station.
But she did not tell Kitty about the two hundred roubles. For some reason it was disagreeable to her to think of it. She felt that there was something that had to do with her in it, and something that ought not to have been.
"She pressed me very much to go and see her," Anna went on; "and I shall be glad to go to see her tomorrow. Stiva is staying a long while in Dolly's room, thank God," Anna added, changing the subject, and getting up, Kitty fancied, displeased with something.
"No, I'm first! No, I!" screamed the children, who had finished tea, running up to their Aunt Anna.
"All together," said Anna, and she ran laughing to meet them, and embraced and swung round all the throng of swarming children, shrieking with delight.
After dinner, when Dolly went away to her own room,
After dinner, when Dolly went away to her own room, Anna rose quickly and went up to her brother, who was just lighting a cigar.
"Stiva," she said to him, winking gaily, crossing him and glancing towards the door, "go, and God help you."
He threw down the cigar, understanding her, and departed through the doorway.
When Stepan Arkadyevitch had disappeared, she went back to the sofa where she had been sitting, surrounded by the children. Either because the children saw that their mother was fond of this aunt, or that they felt a special charm in her themselves, the two elder ones, and the younger following their lead, as children so often do, had clung about their new aunt since before dinner, and would not leave her side. And it had become a sort of game among them to sit a close as possible to their aunt, to touch her, hold her little hand, kiss it, play with her ring, or even touch the flounce of her skirt.
"Come, come, as we were sitting before," said Anna Arkadyevna, sitting down in her place.
And again Grisha poked his little face under her arm, and nestled with his head on her gown, beaming with pride and happiness.
"And when is your next ball?" she asked Kitty.
"Next week, and a splendid ball. One of those balls where one always enjoys oneself."
"Why, are there balls where one always enjoys oneself?" Anna said, with tender irony.
"It's strange, but there are. At the Bobrishtchevs' one always enjoys oneself, and at the Nikitins' too, while at the Mezhkovs' it's always dull. Haven't you noticed it?"
"No, my dear, for me there are no balls now where one enjoys oneself," said Anna, and Kitty detected in her eyes that mysterious world which was not open to her. "For me there are some less dull and tiresome."
"How can YOU be dull at a ball?"
"Why should not _I_ be dull at a ball?" inquired Anna.
Kitty perceived that Anna knew what answer would follow.
"Because you always look nicer than anyone."
Anna had the faculty of blushing. She blushed a little, and said:
"In the first place it's never so; and secondly, if it were, what difference would it make to me?"
"Are you coming to this ball?" asked Kitty.
"I imagine it won't be possible to avoid going. Here, take it," she said to Tanya, who was bulling the loosely-fitting ring off her white, slender-tipped finger.
"I shall be so glad if you go. I should so like to see you at a ball."
"Anyway, if I do go, I shall comfort myself with the thought that it's a pleasure to you...Grisha, don't pull my hair. It's untidy enough without that," she said, putting up a straying lock, which Grisha had been playing with.
"I imagine you at the ball in lilac."
"And why in lilac precisely?" asked Anna, smiling. "Now, children, run along, run along. Do you hear? Miss Hoole is calling you to tea," she said, tearing the children form her, and sending them off to the dining room.
"I know why you press me to come to the ball. You expect a great deal of this ball, and you want everyone to be there to take part in it."
"Stiva," she said to him, winking gaily, crossing him and glancing towards the door, "go, and God help you."
He threw down the cigar, understanding her, and departed through the doorway.
When Stepan Arkadyevitch had disappeared, she went back to the sofa where she had been sitting, surrounded by the children. Either because the children saw that their mother was fond of this aunt, or that they felt a special charm in her themselves, the two elder ones, and the younger following their lead, as children so often do, had clung about their new aunt since before dinner, and would not leave her side. And it had become a sort of game among them to sit a close as possible to their aunt, to touch her, hold her little hand, kiss it, play with her ring, or even touch the flounce of her skirt.
"Come, come, as we were sitting before," said Anna Arkadyevna, sitting down in her place.
And again Grisha poked his little face under her arm, and nestled with his head on her gown, beaming with pride and happiness.
"And when is your next ball?" she asked Kitty.
"Next week, and a splendid ball. One of those balls where one always enjoys oneself."
"Why, are there balls where one always enjoys oneself?" Anna said, with tender irony.
"It's strange, but there are. At the Bobrishtchevs' one always enjoys oneself, and at the Nikitins' too, while at the Mezhkovs' it's always dull. Haven't you noticed it?"
"No, my dear, for me there are no balls now where one enjoys oneself," said Anna, and Kitty detected in her eyes that mysterious world which was not open to her. "For me there are some less dull and tiresome."
"How can YOU be dull at a ball?"
"Why should not _I_ be dull at a ball?" inquired Anna.
Kitty perceived that Anna knew what answer would follow.
"Because you always look nicer than anyone."
Anna had the faculty of blushing. She blushed a little, and said:
"In the first place it's never so; and secondly, if it were, what difference would it make to me?"
"Are you coming to this ball?" asked Kitty.
"I imagine it won't be possible to avoid going. Here, take it," she said to Tanya, who was bulling the loosely-fitting ring off her white, slender-tipped finger.
"I shall be so glad if you go. I should so like to see you at a ball."
"Anyway, if I do go, I shall comfort myself with the thought that it's a pleasure to you...Grisha, don't pull my hair. It's untidy enough without that," she said, putting up a straying lock, which Grisha had been playing with.
"I imagine you at the ball in lilac."
"And why in lilac precisely?" asked Anna, smiling. "Now, children, run along, run along. Do you hear? Miss Hoole is calling you to tea," she said, tearing the children form her, and sending them off to the dining room.
"I know why you press me to come to the ball. You expect a great deal of this ball, and you want everyone to be there to take part in it."
Chapter 20
Chapter 20
The whole of that day Anna spent at home, that's to say at the Oblonskys', and received no one, though some of her acquaintances had already heard of her arrival, and came to call; the same day. Anna spent the whole morning with Dolly and the children. She merely sent a brief note to her brother to tell him that he must not fail to dine at home. "Come, God is merciful," she wrote.
Oblonsky did dine at home: the conversation was general, and his wife, speaking to him, addressed him as "Stiva," as she had not done before. In the relations of the husband and wife the same estrangement still remained, but there was no talk now of separation, and Stepan Arkadyevitch saw the possibility of explanation and reconciliation.
Immediately after dinner Kitty came in. She knew Anna Arkadyevna, but only very slightly, and she came now to her sister's with some trepidation, at the prospect of meeting this fashionable Petersburg lady, whom everyone spoke so highly of. But she made a favorable impression on Anna Arkadyevna--she saw that at once. Anna was unmistakably admiring her loveliness and her youth: before Kitty knew where she was she found herself not merely under Anna's sway, but in love with her, as young girls do fall in love with older and married women. Anna was not like a fashionable lady, nor the mother of a boy of eight years old. In the elasticity of her movements, the freshness and the unflagging eagerness which persisted in her face, and broke out in her smile and her glance, she would rather have passed for a girl of twenty, had it not been for a serious and at times mournful look in her eyes, which struck and attracted Kitty. Kitty felt that Anna was perfectly simple and was concealing nothing, but that she had another higher world of interests inaccessible to her, complex and poetic.
After dinner, when Dolly went away to her own room, Anna rose quickly and went up to her brother, who was just lighting a cigar.
"Stiva," she said to him, winking gaily, crossing him and glancing towards the door, "go, and God help you."
He threw down the cigar, understanding her, and departed through the doorway.
When Stepan Arkadyevitch had disappeared, she went back to the sofa where she had been sitting, surrounded by the children. Either because the children saw that their mother was fond of this aunt, or that they felt a special charm in her themselves, the two elder ones, and the younger following their lead, as children so often do, had clung about their new aunt since before dinner, and would not leave her side. And it had become a sort of game among them to sit a close as possible to their aunt, to touch her, hold her little hand, kiss it, play with her ring, or even touch the flounce of her skirt.
"Come, come, as we were sitting before," said Anna Arkadyevna, sitting down in her place.
And again Grisha poked his little face under her arm, and nestled with his head on her gown, beaming with pride and happiness.
"And when is your next ball?" she asked Kitty.
The whole of that day Anna spent at home, that's to say at the Oblonskys', and received no one, though some of her acquaintances had already heard of her arrival, and came to call; the same day. Anna spent the whole morning with Dolly and the children. She merely sent a brief note to her brother to tell him that he must not fail to dine at home. "Come, God is merciful," she wrote.
Oblonsky did dine at home: the conversation was general, and his wife, speaking to him, addressed him as "Stiva," as she had not done before. In the relations of the husband and wife the same estrangement still remained, but there was no talk now of separation, and Stepan Arkadyevitch saw the possibility of explanation and reconciliation.
Immediately after dinner Kitty came in. She knew Anna Arkadyevna, but only very slightly, and she came now to her sister's with some trepidation, at the prospect of meeting this fashionable Petersburg lady, whom everyone spoke so highly of. But she made a favorable impression on Anna Arkadyevna--she saw that at once. Anna was unmistakably admiring her loveliness and her youth: before Kitty knew where she was she found herself not merely under Anna's sway, but in love with her, as young girls do fall in love with older and married women. Anna was not like a fashionable lady, nor the mother of a boy of eight years old. In the elasticity of her movements, the freshness and the unflagging eagerness which persisted in her face, and broke out in her smile and her glance, she would rather have passed for a girl of twenty, had it not been for a serious and at times mournful look in her eyes, which struck and attracted Kitty. Kitty felt that Anna was perfectly simple and was concealing nothing, but that she had another higher world of interests inaccessible to her, complex and poetic.
After dinner, when Dolly went away to her own room, Anna rose quickly and went up to her brother, who was just lighting a cigar.
"Stiva," she said to him, winking gaily, crossing him and glancing towards the door, "go, and God help you."
He threw down the cigar, understanding her, and departed through the doorway.
When Stepan Arkadyevitch had disappeared, she went back to the sofa where she had been sitting, surrounded by the children. Either because the children saw that their mother was fond of this aunt, or that they felt a special charm in her themselves, the two elder ones, and the younger following their lead, as children so often do, had clung about their new aunt since before dinner, and would not leave her side. And it had become a sort of game among them to sit a close as possible to their aunt, to touch her, hold her little hand, kiss it, play with her ring, or even touch the flounce of her skirt.
"Come, come, as we were sitting before," said Anna Arkadyevna, sitting down in her place.
And again Grisha poked his little face under her arm, and nestled with his head on her gown, beaming with pride and happiness.
"And when is your next ball?" she asked Kitty.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
‘I don't know!’ squealed Hermione, terrified.
‘I don't know!’ squealed Hermione, terrified. ‘I'm sorry, Grawp, I don't know!’
‘GRAWP WANT HAGGER!’
One of the giants massive hands reached down. Hermione let out a real scream, ran a few steps backwards and fell over. Devoid of a wand, Harry braced himself to punch, kick, bite or whatever else it took as the hand swooped towards him and knocked a snow-white centaur off his legs.
It was what the centaurs had been waiting for—Grawp's outstretched fingers were a foot from Harry when fifty arrows soared through the air at the giant, peppering his enormous face, causing him to howl with pain and rage and straighten up, rubbing his face with his enormous hands, breaking off the arrow shafts but forcing the arrowheads in still deeper.
He yelled and stamped his enormous feet and the centaur; scattered out of the way; pebble-sized droplets of Grawp's blood showered Harry as he pulled Hermione to her feet and the pair of them ran as fast as they could for the shelter of the trees. Once there they looked back; Grawp was snatching blindly at the centaurs as blood ran down his face; they were retreating in disorder, galloping away through the trees on the other side of the clearing. Harry and Hermione watched Grawp give another roar of fury and plunge after them, smashing more trees aside as he went.
‘Oh no,’ said Hermione, quaking so badly that her knees gave way. ‘Oh, that was horrible. And he might kill them all.’
‘I'm not that fussed, to be honest,’ said Harry bitterly.
The sounds of the galloping centaurs and the blundering giant grew fainter and fainter. As Harry listened to them, his scar gave another great throb and a wave of terror swept over him.
They had wasted so much time—they were even further from rescuing Sirius than they had been when he had had the vision. Not only had Harry managed to lose his wand but they were stuck in the middle of the Forbidden Forest with no means of transport whatsoever.
‘Smart plan,’ he spat at Hermione, having to release some of his fury. ‘Really smart plan. Where do we go from here?’
‘We need to get back up to the castle,’ said Hermione faintly.
‘By the time we've done that, Sirius'll probably be dead!’ said Harry, kicking a nearby tree in temper. A high-pitched chattering started up overhead and he looked up to see an angry Bowtruckle flexing its long twiglike fingers at him.
‘Well, we can't do anything without wands,’ said Hermione hopelessly, dragging herself up again. ‘Anyway, Harry, how exactly were you planning to get all the way to London?’
‘Yeah, we were just wondering that.’ said a familiar voice from behind her.
Harry and Hermione moved together instinctively and peered through the trees.
Ron came into sight, closely followed by Ginny, Neville and Luna. All of them looked a little the worse for wear—there were several long scratches running the length of Ginny's cheek; a large purple lump was swelling above Neville's right eye; Ron's lip was bleeding worse than ever—but all were looking rather pleased with themselves.
‘So,’ said Ron, pushing aside a low-hanging branch and holding out Harry's wand, ‘had any ideas?’
‘How did you get away?’ asked Harry in amazement, taking his wand from Ron.
‘Couple of Stunners, a Disarming Charm, Neville brought off a really nice little Impediment Jinx,’ said Ron airily, now handing back Hermione's wand, too. ‘But Ginny was best, she got Malfoy—Bat Bogey Hex—it was superb, his whole face was covered in the great flapping things. Anyway, we saw you out of the window heading into the Forest and followed. What've you done with Umbridge?’
‘She got carried away,’ said Harry. ‘By a herd of centaurs.’
‘And they left you behind?’ asked Ginny, looking astonished.
‘No, they got chased off by Grawp,’ said Harry.
‘Who's Grawp?’ Luna asked interestedly.
‘GRAWP WANT HAGGER!’
One of the giants massive hands reached down. Hermione let out a real scream, ran a few steps backwards and fell over. Devoid of a wand, Harry braced himself to punch, kick, bite or whatever else it took as the hand swooped towards him and knocked a snow-white centaur off his legs.
It was what the centaurs had been waiting for—Grawp's outstretched fingers were a foot from Harry when fifty arrows soared through the air at the giant, peppering his enormous face, causing him to howl with pain and rage and straighten up, rubbing his face with his enormous hands, breaking off the arrow shafts but forcing the arrowheads in still deeper.
He yelled and stamped his enormous feet and the centaur; scattered out of the way; pebble-sized droplets of Grawp's blood showered Harry as he pulled Hermione to her feet and the pair of them ran as fast as they could for the shelter of the trees. Once there they looked back; Grawp was snatching blindly at the centaurs as blood ran down his face; they were retreating in disorder, galloping away through the trees on the other side of the clearing. Harry and Hermione watched Grawp give another roar of fury and plunge after them, smashing more trees aside as he went.
‘Oh no,’ said Hermione, quaking so badly that her knees gave way. ‘Oh, that was horrible. And he might kill them all.’
‘I'm not that fussed, to be honest,’ said Harry bitterly.
The sounds of the galloping centaurs and the blundering giant grew fainter and fainter. As Harry listened to them, his scar gave another great throb and a wave of terror swept over him.
They had wasted so much time—they were even further from rescuing Sirius than they had been when he had had the vision. Not only had Harry managed to lose his wand but they were stuck in the middle of the Forbidden Forest with no means of transport whatsoever.
‘Smart plan,’ he spat at Hermione, having to release some of his fury. ‘Really smart plan. Where do we go from here?’
‘We need to get back up to the castle,’ said Hermione faintly.
‘By the time we've done that, Sirius'll probably be dead!’ said Harry, kicking a nearby tree in temper. A high-pitched chattering started up overhead and he looked up to see an angry Bowtruckle flexing its long twiglike fingers at him.
‘Well, we can't do anything without wands,’ said Hermione hopelessly, dragging herself up again. ‘Anyway, Harry, how exactly were you planning to get all the way to London?’
‘Yeah, we were just wondering that.’ said a familiar voice from behind her.
Harry and Hermione moved together instinctively and peered through the trees.
Ron came into sight, closely followed by Ginny, Neville and Luna. All of them looked a little the worse for wear—there were several long scratches running the length of Ginny's cheek; a large purple lump was swelling above Neville's right eye; Ron's lip was bleeding worse than ever—but all were looking rather pleased with themselves.
‘So,’ said Ron, pushing aside a low-hanging branch and holding out Harry's wand, ‘had any ideas?’
‘How did you get away?’ asked Harry in amazement, taking his wand from Ron.
‘Couple of Stunners, a Disarming Charm, Neville brought off a really nice little Impediment Jinx,’ said Ron airily, now handing back Hermione's wand, too. ‘But Ginny was best, she got Malfoy—Bat Bogey Hex—it was superb, his whole face was covered in the great flapping things. Anyway, we saw you out of the window heading into the Forest and followed. What've you done with Umbridge?’
‘She got carried away,’ said Harry. ‘By a herd of centaurs.’
‘And they left you behind?’ asked Ginny, looking astonished.
‘No, they got chased off by Grawp,’ said Harry.
‘Who's Grawp?’ Luna asked interestedly.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
‘What can I get you, m'dears?’ s
‘What can I get you, m'dears?’ said Madam Puddifoot, a very stout woman with a shiny black bun, squeezing between their table and Roger Davies's with great difficulty.
‘Two coffees, please,’ said Cho.
In the time it took for their coffees to arrive, Roger Davies and his girlfriend had started kissing over their sugar bowl. Harry wished they wouldn't; he felt that Davies was setting a standard with which Cho would soon expect
him to compete. He felt his face growing hot and tried staring out of the window, but it was so steamed up he couldn't see the street outside. To postpone the moment when he would have to look at Cho, he stared up at the
ceiling as though examining the paintwork and received a handful of confetti in the face from their hovering cherub.
After a few more painful minutes, Cho mentioned Umbridge. Harry seized on the subject with relief and they passed a few happy moments abusing her, but the subject had already been so thoroughly canvassed during DA
meetings it did not last very long. Silence fell again. Harry was very conscious of the slurping noises coming from the table next door and cast wildly around for something else to say.
‘Er ... listen, d'you want to come with me to the Three Broomsticks at lunchtime? I'm meeting Hermione Granger there.’
Cho raised her eyebrows.
‘You're meeting Hermione Granger? Today?’
‘Yeah. Well, she asked me to, so I thought I would. D'you want to come with me? She said it wouldn't matter if you did.’
‘Oh ... well ... that was nice of her.’
But Cho did not sound as though she thought it was nice at all. On the contrary, her tone was cold and all of a sudden she looked rather forbidding.
A few more minutes passed in total silence, Harry drinking his coffee so fast that he would soon need a fresh cup. Beside them, Roger Davies and his girlfriend seemed glued together at the tips.
Cho's hand was lying on the table beside her coffee and Harry was feeling a mounting pressure to take hold of it. Just do it, he told himself, as a fount of mingled panic and excitement surged up inside his chest, just reach out
and grab it. Amazing, how much more difficult it was to extend his arm twelve inches and touch her hand than it was to snatch a speeding Snitch from midair ...
But just as he moved his hand forwards, Cho took hers off the table. She was now watching Roger Davies kissing his girlfriend with a mildly interested expression.
‘He asked me out, you know,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘A couple of weeks ago. Roger. I turned him down, though.’
Harry, who had grabbed the sugar bowl to excuse his sudden lunging movement across the table, could not think why she was telling him this. If she wished she were sitting at the next table being heartily kissed by Roger
Davies, why had she agreed to come: out with him?
He said nothing. Their cherub threw another handful of confetti over them; some of it landed in the last cold dregs of coffee Harry had been about to drink.
‘I came in here with Cedric last year,’ said Cho.
In the second or so it took for him to take in what she had said, Harry's insides had become glacial. He could not believe she wanted to talk about Cedric now, while kissing couples surrounded them and a cherub floated over
their heads.
Cho's voice was rather higher when she spoke again.
‘I've been meaning to ask you for ages ... did Cedric—did he—m—m—mention me at all before he died?’
This was the very last subject on earth Harry wanted to discuss, and least of all with Cho.
‘Well—no—’ he said quietly. ‘There—there wasn't time for him to say anything. Erm ... so ... d'you ... d'you get to see a lot of Quidditch in the holidays? You support the Tornados, right?’
His voice sounded falsely bright and cheery. To his horror, he saw that her eyes were swimming with tears again, just as they had been after the last DA meeting before Christmas.
‘Look,’ he said desperately, leaning in so that nobody else could overhear, ‘let's not talk about Cedric right now ... let's talk about something else ...’
But this, apparently, was quite the wrong thing to say.
‘I thought,’ she said, tears spattering down on to the table, ‘I thought you'd u— u—understand! I need to talk about it! Surely you n—need to talk about it t—too! I mean, you saw it happen, d—didn't you?’
Everything was going nightmarishly wrong; Roger Davies's girlfriend had even unglued herself to look round at Cho crying.
‘Well—I have talked about it,’ Harry said in a whisper, ‘to Ron and Hermione, but—’
‘Oh, you'll talk to Hermione Granger!’ she said shrilly, her face now shining with tears. Several more kissing couples broke apart to stare. ‘But you won't talk to me! P —perhaps it would be best if we just ... just p—paid and
you went and met up with Hermione G—Granger, like you obviously want to!’
gucci outlet
burberry outlet
chanel 2.55
gucci shoes for men
cheap uggs on sale
‘Two coffees, please,’ said Cho.
In the time it took for their coffees to arrive, Roger Davies and his girlfriend had started kissing over their sugar bowl. Harry wished they wouldn't; he felt that Davies was setting a standard with which Cho would soon expect
him to compete. He felt his face growing hot and tried staring out of the window, but it was so steamed up he couldn't see the street outside. To postpone the moment when he would have to look at Cho, he stared up at the
ceiling as though examining the paintwork and received a handful of confetti in the face from their hovering cherub.
After a few more painful minutes, Cho mentioned Umbridge. Harry seized on the subject with relief and they passed a few happy moments abusing her, but the subject had already been so thoroughly canvassed during DA
meetings it did not last very long. Silence fell again. Harry was very conscious of the slurping noises coming from the table next door and cast wildly around for something else to say.
‘Er ... listen, d'you want to come with me to the Three Broomsticks at lunchtime? I'm meeting Hermione Granger there.’
Cho raised her eyebrows.
‘You're meeting Hermione Granger? Today?’
‘Yeah. Well, she asked me to, so I thought I would. D'you want to come with me? She said it wouldn't matter if you did.’
‘Oh ... well ... that was nice of her.’
But Cho did not sound as though she thought it was nice at all. On the contrary, her tone was cold and all of a sudden she looked rather forbidding.
A few more minutes passed in total silence, Harry drinking his coffee so fast that he would soon need a fresh cup. Beside them, Roger Davies and his girlfriend seemed glued together at the tips.
Cho's hand was lying on the table beside her coffee and Harry was feeling a mounting pressure to take hold of it. Just do it, he told himself, as a fount of mingled panic and excitement surged up inside his chest, just reach out
and grab it. Amazing, how much more difficult it was to extend his arm twelve inches and touch her hand than it was to snatch a speeding Snitch from midair ...
But just as he moved his hand forwards, Cho took hers off the table. She was now watching Roger Davies kissing his girlfriend with a mildly interested expression.
‘He asked me out, you know,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘A couple of weeks ago. Roger. I turned him down, though.’
Harry, who had grabbed the sugar bowl to excuse his sudden lunging movement across the table, could not think why she was telling him this. If she wished she were sitting at the next table being heartily kissed by Roger
Davies, why had she agreed to come: out with him?
He said nothing. Their cherub threw another handful of confetti over them; some of it landed in the last cold dregs of coffee Harry had been about to drink.
‘I came in here with Cedric last year,’ said Cho.
In the second or so it took for him to take in what she had said, Harry's insides had become glacial. He could not believe she wanted to talk about Cedric now, while kissing couples surrounded them and a cherub floated over
their heads.
Cho's voice was rather higher when she spoke again.
‘I've been meaning to ask you for ages ... did Cedric—did he—m—m—mention me at all before he died?’
This was the very last subject on earth Harry wanted to discuss, and least of all with Cho.
‘Well—no—’ he said quietly. ‘There—there wasn't time for him to say anything. Erm ... so ... d'you ... d'you get to see a lot of Quidditch in the holidays? You support the Tornados, right?’
His voice sounded falsely bright and cheery. To his horror, he saw that her eyes were swimming with tears again, just as they had been after the last DA meeting before Christmas.
‘Look,’ he said desperately, leaning in so that nobody else could overhear, ‘let's not talk about Cedric right now ... let's talk about something else ...’
But this, apparently, was quite the wrong thing to say.
‘I thought,’ she said, tears spattering down on to the table, ‘I thought you'd u— u—understand! I need to talk about it! Surely you n—need to talk about it t—too! I mean, you saw it happen, d—didn't you?’
Everything was going nightmarishly wrong; Roger Davies's girlfriend had even unglued herself to look round at Cho crying.
‘Well—I have talked about it,’ Harry said in a whisper, ‘to Ron and Hermione, but—’
‘Oh, you'll talk to Hermione Granger!’ she said shrilly, her face now shining with tears. Several more kissing couples broke apart to stare. ‘But you won't talk to me! P —perhaps it would be best if we just ... just p—paid and
you went and met up with Hermione G—Granger, like you obviously want to!’
gucci outlet
burberry outlet
chanel 2.55
gucci shoes for men
cheap uggs on sale
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
‘I've got permission!’ she said. ‘To re-form the Quidditch team!’
‘I've got permission!’ she said. ‘To re-form the Quidditch team!’
‘Excellent!’ said Ron and Harry together.
‘Yeah,’ said Angelina, beaming. ‘I went to McGonagall and I think she might have appealed to Dumbledore. Anyway, Umbridge had to give in. Ha! So I want you down at the pitch at seven o'clock tonight, all right, because we've got to make up time. You realise we're only three weeks away from our first match?’
She squeezed away from them, narrowly dodged an ink pellet from Peeves, which hit a nearby first-year instead, and vanished from sight.
Ron's smile slipped slightly as he looked out of the window, which was now opaque with hammering rain.
‘Hope this clears up. What's up with you, Hermione?’
She, too, was gazing at the window, but not as though she really saw it. Her eyes were unfocused and there was a frown on her face.
‘Just thinking ...’ she said, still frowning at the rain-washed window.
‘About Siri— Snuffles?’ said Harry.
‘No ... not exactly ...’ said Hermione slowly. ‘More ... wondering ... I suppose we're doing the right thing ... I think ... aren't we?’
Harry and Ron looked at each other.
‘Well, that clears that up,’ said Ron. ‘It would've been really annoying if you hadn't explained yourself properly.’
Hermione looked at him as though she had only just realised he was there.
‘I was just wondering,’ she said, her voice stronger now, ‘whether we're doing the right thing, starting this Defence Against the Dark Arts group.’
‘What?’ said Harry and Ron together.
‘Hermione, it was your idea in the first place!’ said Ron indignantly.
‘I know,’ said Hermione, twisting her fingers together. ‘But after talking to Snuffles ...’
‘But he's all for it,’ said Harry.
‘Yes,’ said Hermione, staring at the window again. ‘Yes, that's what made me think maybe it wasn't a good idea after all ...’
Peeves floated over them on his stomach, peashooter at the ready; automatically all three of them lifted their bags to cover their heads until he had passed.
‘Let's get this straight,’ said Harry angrily, as they put their bags back on the floor, ‘Sirius agrees with us, so you don't think we should do it any more?’
Hermione looked tense and rather miserable. Now staring at her own hands, she said, ‘Do you honestly trust his judgement?’
‘Yes, I do!’ said Harry at once. ‘He's always given us great advice!’
An ink pellet whizzed past them, striking Katie Bell squarely in the ear. Hermione watched Katie leap to her feet and start throwing things at Peeves; it was a few moments before Hermione spoke again and it sounded as though she was choosing her words very carefully.
‘You don't think he has become ... sort of ... reckless ... since he's been cooped up in Grimmauld Place? You don't think he's ... kind of ... living through us?’
‘What d'you mean, “living through us"?’ Harry retorted.
‘I mean ... well, I think he'd love to be forming secret Defence societies right under the nose of someone from the Ministry ... I think he's really frustrated at how little he can do where he is ... so I think he's keen to kind of ... egg us on.’
Ron looked utterly perplexed.
‘Sirius is right,’ he said, ‘you do sound just like my mother.’
Hermione bit her lip and did not answer. The bell rang just as Peeves swooped down on Katie and emptied an entire ink bottle over her head.
The weather did not improve as the day wore on, so that at seven o'clock that evening, when Harry and Ron went down to the Quidditch pitch for practice, they were soaked through within minutes, their feet slipping and sliding on the sodden grass. The sky was a deep, thundery grey and it was a relief to gain the warmth and light of the changing rooms, even if they knew the respite was only temporary. They found Fred and George debating whether to use one of their own Skiving Snackboxes to get out of flying.
‘... but I bet she'd know what we'd done,’ Fred said out of the corner of his mouth. ‘If only I hadn't offered to sell her some Puking Pastilles yesterday.’
‘We could try the Fever Fudge,’ George muttered, ‘no one's seen that yet—’
‘Does it work?’ enquired Ron hopefully, as the hammering of rain on the roof intensified and wind howled around the building.
‘Well, yeah,’ said Fred, ‘your temperature'll go right up.’
‘But you get these massive pus-filled boils, too,’ said George, ‘and we haven't worked out how to get rid of them yet.’
‘I can't see any boils,’ said Ron, staring at the twins.
‘No, well, you wouldn't,’ said Fred darkly, ‘they're not in a place we generally display to the public.’
‘But they make sitting on a broom a right pain in the—’
‘All right, everyone, listen up,’ said Angelina loudly, emerging from the Captain's office. ‘I know it's not ideal weather, but there's a chance we'll be playing Slytherin in conditions like this so it's a good idea to work out how we're going to cope with them. Harry, didn't you do something to your glasses to stop the rain fogging them up when we played Hufflepuff in that storm?’
‘Hermione did it,’ said Harry. He pulled out his wand, tapped his glasses and said, ‘Impervius!’
‘I think we all ought to try that,’ said Angelina. ‘If we could just keep the rain off our faces it would really help visibility—all together, come on—Impervius!OK. Let's go.’
They all stowed their wands back in the inside pockets of their robes, shouldered their brooms and followed Angelina out of the changing rooms.
They squelched through the deepening mud to the middle of the pitch; visibility was still very poor even with the Impervius Charm; light was fading fast and curtains of rain were sweeping the grounds.
‘All right, on my whistle,’ shouted Angelina.
‘Excellent!’ said Ron and Harry together.
‘Yeah,’ said Angelina, beaming. ‘I went to McGonagall and I think she might have appealed to Dumbledore. Anyway, Umbridge had to give in. Ha! So I want you down at the pitch at seven o'clock tonight, all right, because we've got to make up time. You realise we're only three weeks away from our first match?’
She squeezed away from them, narrowly dodged an ink pellet from Peeves, which hit a nearby first-year instead, and vanished from sight.
Ron's smile slipped slightly as he looked out of the window, which was now opaque with hammering rain.
‘Hope this clears up. What's up with you, Hermione?’
She, too, was gazing at the window, but not as though she really saw it. Her eyes were unfocused and there was a frown on her face.
‘Just thinking ...’ she said, still frowning at the rain-washed window.
‘About Siri— Snuffles?’ said Harry.
‘No ... not exactly ...’ said Hermione slowly. ‘More ... wondering ... I suppose we're doing the right thing ... I think ... aren't we?’
Harry and Ron looked at each other.
‘Well, that clears that up,’ said Ron. ‘It would've been really annoying if you hadn't explained yourself properly.’
Hermione looked at him as though she had only just realised he was there.
‘I was just wondering,’ she said, her voice stronger now, ‘whether we're doing the right thing, starting this Defence Against the Dark Arts group.’
‘What?’ said Harry and Ron together.
‘Hermione, it was your idea in the first place!’ said Ron indignantly.
‘I know,’ said Hermione, twisting her fingers together. ‘But after talking to Snuffles ...’
‘But he's all for it,’ said Harry.
‘Yes,’ said Hermione, staring at the window again. ‘Yes, that's what made me think maybe it wasn't a good idea after all ...’
Peeves floated over them on his stomach, peashooter at the ready; automatically all three of them lifted their bags to cover their heads until he had passed.
‘Let's get this straight,’ said Harry angrily, as they put their bags back on the floor, ‘Sirius agrees with us, so you don't think we should do it any more?’
Hermione looked tense and rather miserable. Now staring at her own hands, she said, ‘Do you honestly trust his judgement?’
‘Yes, I do!’ said Harry at once. ‘He's always given us great advice!’
An ink pellet whizzed past them, striking Katie Bell squarely in the ear. Hermione watched Katie leap to her feet and start throwing things at Peeves; it was a few moments before Hermione spoke again and it sounded as though she was choosing her words very carefully.
‘You don't think he has become ... sort of ... reckless ... since he's been cooped up in Grimmauld Place? You don't think he's ... kind of ... living through us?’
‘What d'you mean, “living through us"?’ Harry retorted.
‘I mean ... well, I think he'd love to be forming secret Defence societies right under the nose of someone from the Ministry ... I think he's really frustrated at how little he can do where he is ... so I think he's keen to kind of ... egg us on.’
Ron looked utterly perplexed.
‘Sirius is right,’ he said, ‘you do sound just like my mother.’
Hermione bit her lip and did not answer. The bell rang just as Peeves swooped down on Katie and emptied an entire ink bottle over her head.
The weather did not improve as the day wore on, so that at seven o'clock that evening, when Harry and Ron went down to the Quidditch pitch for practice, they were soaked through within minutes, their feet slipping and sliding on the sodden grass. The sky was a deep, thundery grey and it was a relief to gain the warmth and light of the changing rooms, even if they knew the respite was only temporary. They found Fred and George debating whether to use one of their own Skiving Snackboxes to get out of flying.
‘... but I bet she'd know what we'd done,’ Fred said out of the corner of his mouth. ‘If only I hadn't offered to sell her some Puking Pastilles yesterday.’
‘We could try the Fever Fudge,’ George muttered, ‘no one's seen that yet—’
‘Does it work?’ enquired Ron hopefully, as the hammering of rain on the roof intensified and wind howled around the building.
‘Well, yeah,’ said Fred, ‘your temperature'll go right up.’
‘But you get these massive pus-filled boils, too,’ said George, ‘and we haven't worked out how to get rid of them yet.’
‘I can't see any boils,’ said Ron, staring at the twins.
‘No, well, you wouldn't,’ said Fred darkly, ‘they're not in a place we generally display to the public.’
‘But they make sitting on a broom a right pain in the—’
‘All right, everyone, listen up,’ said Angelina loudly, emerging from the Captain's office. ‘I know it's not ideal weather, but there's a chance we'll be playing Slytherin in conditions like this so it's a good idea to work out how we're going to cope with them. Harry, didn't you do something to your glasses to stop the rain fogging them up when we played Hufflepuff in that storm?’
‘Hermione did it,’ said Harry. He pulled out his wand, tapped his glasses and said, ‘Impervius!’
‘I think we all ought to try that,’ said Angelina. ‘If we could just keep the rain off our faces it would really help visibility—all together, come on—Impervius!OK. Let's go.’
They all stowed their wands back in the inside pockets of their robes, shouldered their brooms and followed Angelina out of the changing rooms.
They squelched through the deepening mud to the middle of the pitch; visibility was still very poor even with the Impervius Charm; light was fading fast and curtains of rain were sweeping the grounds.
‘All right, on my whistle,’ shouted Angelina.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Chapter 12 Professor Umbridge
Chapter 12 Professor Umbridge
Seamus dressed at top speed next morning and left the dormitory before Harry had even put on his socks.
‘Does he think he'll turn into a nutter if he stays in a room with me too long?’ asked Harry loudly as the hem of Seamus's robes wnipped out of sight.
‘Don't worry about it, Harry,’ Dean muttered, hoisting his schoolbag on to his shoulder, ‘he's just ...’
But apparently he was unable to say exactly what Seamus was, and after a slightly awkward pause followed him out of the room.
Neville and Ron both gave Harry an it's-his-problem-not-yours look, but Harry was not much consoled. How much more of this would he have to take?
‘What's the matter?’ asked Hermione five minutes later, catching up with Harry and Ron halfway across the common room as they all headed towards breakfast. ‘You look absolutely—Oh for heavens sake.’
She was staring at the common-room noticeboard, where a large new sign had been put up.
GALLONS OF GALLEONS!
Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings?
Like to earn a little extra gold?
Contact Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor common room,
for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs.
(We regret that all work is undertaken at applicant's own risk.)
‘They are the limit,’ said Hermione grimly, taking down the sign, which Fred and George had pinned up ewer a poster giving the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend, which was to be in October. ‘We'll have to talk to them, Ron.’
Ron looked positively alarmed.
‘Why?’
‘Because we're prefects!’ said Hermione, as they climbed out through the portrait hole. ‘It's up to us to stop this kind of thing!’
Ron said nothing; Harry could tell from his glum expression that the prospect of stopping Fred and George doing exactly what they liked was not one he found inviting.
‘Anyway, what's up, Harry?’ Hermione continued, as they walked down a flight of stairs lined with portraits of old witches and wizards, all of whom ignored them, being engrossed in their own conversation. ‘You look really angry about something.’
‘Seamus reckons Harry's lying about You-Know-Who,’ said Ron succinctly, when Harry did not respond.
Hermione, who Harry had expected to react angrily on his behalf, sighed.
‘Yes, Lavender thinks so too,’ she said gloomily.
‘Been having a nice little chat with her about whether or not I'm a lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?’ Harry said loudly.
‘No,’ said Hermione calmly. ‘I told her to keep her big fat mouth shut about you, actually. And it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down our throats, Harry, because in case you haven't noticed, Ron and I are on your side.’
There was a short pause.
‘Sorry,’ said Harry in a low voice.
‘That's quite all right,’ said Hermione with dignity. Then she shook her head. ‘Don't you remember what Dumbledore said at the last end-of-term feast?’
Seamus dressed at top speed next morning and left the dormitory before Harry had even put on his socks.
‘Does he think he'll turn into a nutter if he stays in a room with me too long?’ asked Harry loudly as the hem of Seamus's robes wnipped out of sight.
‘Don't worry about it, Harry,’ Dean muttered, hoisting his schoolbag on to his shoulder, ‘he's just ...’
But apparently he was unable to say exactly what Seamus was, and after a slightly awkward pause followed him out of the room.
Neville and Ron both gave Harry an it's-his-problem-not-yours look, but Harry was not much consoled. How much more of this would he have to take?
‘What's the matter?’ asked Hermione five minutes later, catching up with Harry and Ron halfway across the common room as they all headed towards breakfast. ‘You look absolutely—Oh for heavens sake.’
She was staring at the common-room noticeboard, where a large new sign had been put up.
GALLONS OF GALLEONS!
Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings?
Like to earn a little extra gold?
Contact Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor common room,
for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs.
(We regret that all work is undertaken at applicant's own risk.)
‘They are the limit,’ said Hermione grimly, taking down the sign, which Fred and George had pinned up ewer a poster giving the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend, which was to be in October. ‘We'll have to talk to them, Ron.’
Ron looked positively alarmed.
‘Why?’
‘Because we're prefects!’ said Hermione, as they climbed out through the portrait hole. ‘It's up to us to stop this kind of thing!’
Ron said nothing; Harry could tell from his glum expression that the prospect of stopping Fred and George doing exactly what they liked was not one he found inviting.
‘Anyway, what's up, Harry?’ Hermione continued, as they walked down a flight of stairs lined with portraits of old witches and wizards, all of whom ignored them, being engrossed in their own conversation. ‘You look really angry about something.’
‘Seamus reckons Harry's lying about You-Know-Who,’ said Ron succinctly, when Harry did not respond.
Hermione, who Harry had expected to react angrily on his behalf, sighed.
‘Yes, Lavender thinks so too,’ she said gloomily.
‘Been having a nice little chat with her about whether or not I'm a lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?’ Harry said loudly.
‘No,’ said Hermione calmly. ‘I told her to keep her big fat mouth shut about you, actually. And it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down our throats, Harry, because in case you haven't noticed, Ron and I are on your side.’
There was a short pause.
‘Sorry,’ said Harry in a low voice.
‘That's quite all right,’ said Hermione with dignity. Then she shook her head. ‘Don't you remember what Dumbledore said at the last end-of-term feast?’
Harry felt a rush of gratitude towards Neville.
Harry felt a rush of gratitude towards Neville. Nobody else said anything. Seamus got out his wand, repaired the bed hangings and vanished behind them. Dean got into bed, rolled over and fell silent. Neville, who appeared to have nothing more to say either, was gazing fondly at his moonlit cactus.
Harry lay back on his pillows while Ron bustled around the next bed, putting his things away. He fell, shaken by the argument with Seamus, whom he had always liked very much. How many more people were going to suggest that he was lying, or unhinged?
Had Dumbledore suffered like this all summer, as first the Wizengamot, then the International Confederation of Wizards had thrown him from their ranks? Was it anger at Harry, perhaps, that had stopped Dumbledore getting in touch with him for months? The two of them were in this together, after all; Dumbledore had believed Harry, announced his version of events to the whole school and then to the wider wizarding community. Anyone who thought Harry was a liar had to think that Dumbledore was, too, or else that Dumbledore had been hoodwinked ...
They'll know we're right in the end, thought Harry miserably, as Ron got into bed and extinguished the last candle in the dormitory. But he wondered how many more attacks like Seamus's he would have to endure before that time came.
Harry lay back on his pillows while Ron bustled around the next bed, putting his things away. He fell, shaken by the argument with Seamus, whom he had always liked very much. How many more people were going to suggest that he was lying, or unhinged?
Had Dumbledore suffered like this all summer, as first the Wizengamot, then the International Confederation of Wizards had thrown him from their ranks? Was it anger at Harry, perhaps, that had stopped Dumbledore getting in touch with him for months? The two of them were in this together, after all; Dumbledore had believed Harry, announced his version of events to the whole school and then to the wider wizarding community. Anyone who thought Harry was a liar had to think that Dumbledore was, too, or else that Dumbledore had been hoodwinked ...
They'll know we're right in the end, thought Harry miserably, as Ron got into bed and extinguished the last candle in the dormitory. But he wondered how many more attacks like Seamus's he would have to endure before that time came.
‘Not bad,’ muttered Harry
‘Not bad,’ muttered Harry, as a true account of his holiday would have taken most of the night to relate and he could not face it. ‘You?’
‘Yeah, it was OK,’ chuckled Dean. ‘Better than Seamus's, anyway, he was just telling me.’
‘Why, what happened, Seamus?’ Neville asked as he placed his Mimbuius mimbletonia tenderly on his bedside cabinet.
Seamus did not answer immediately; he was making rather a meal of ensuring that his poster of the Kenmare Kestrels Quidditch team was quite straight. Then he said, with his back still turned to Harry, ‘Me mam didn't want me to come back.’
‘What?’ said Harry, pausing in the act of pulling off his robes.
‘She didn't want me to come back to Hogwarts.’
Seamus turned away from his poster and pulled his own pyjamas out of his trunk, still not looking at Harry.
‘But—why?’ said Harry, astonished. He knew that Seamus's mother was a witch and could not understand, therefore, why she should have come over so Dursleyish.
Seamus did not answer until he had finished buttoning his pyjamas.
‘Well,’ he said in a measured voice, ‘I suppose ... because of you.’
‘What d'you mean?’ said Harry quickly.
His heart was beating rather fast. He felt vaguely as though something was closing in on him.
‘Well,’ said Seamus again, still avoiding Harry's eye, she ... er ... well, it's not just you, it's Dumbledore, too ...’
‘She believes the Daily Prophet?’ said Harry. ‘She thinks I'm a liar and Dumbledore's an old fool?’
Seamus looked up at him.
‘Yeah, something like that.’
Harry said nothing. He threw his wand down on to his bedside table, pulled off his robes, stuffed them angrily into his trunk and pulled on his pyjamas. He was sick of it: sick of being the person who is stared at and talked about all the time. If any of them knew, if any of them had the faintest idea what it felt like to be the one all these things had happened to ... Mrs. Finnigan had no idea, the stupid woman, he thought savagely.
He got into bed and made to pull the hangings closed around him, but before he could do so, Seamus said, ‘Look ... what did happen that night when ... you know, when ... with Cedric Diggory and all?’
Seamus sounded nervous and eager at the same time. Dean, who had been bending over his trunk trying to retrieve a slipper, went oddly still and Harry knew he was listening hard.
‘What are you asking me for?’ Harry retorted. ‘Just read the Daily Prophet like your mother, why don't you? That'll tell you all you need to know.’
‘Don't you have a go at my mother,’ Seamus snapped.
‘I'll have a go at anyone who calls me a liar,’ said Harry.
‘Don't talk to me like that!’
‘I'll talk to you how I want,’ said Harry, his temper rising so fast he snatched his wand back from his bedside table. ‘If you've got a problem sharing a dormitory with me, go and ask McGonagall if you can be moved ... stop your mummy worrying— ’
‘Leave my mother out of this, Potter!’
‘What's going on?’
Ron had appeared in the doorway. His wide eyes travelled from Harry, who was kneeling on his bed with his wand pointing at Seamus, to Seamus, who was standing there with his fists raised.
‘He's having a go at my mother!’ Seamus yelled.
‘What?’ said Ron. ‘Harry wouldn't do that—we met your mother, we liked her ...’
‘That's before she started believing every word the stinking Daily Prophet writes about me!’ said Harry at the top of his voice.
‘Oh,’ said Ron, comprehension dawning across his freckled face. ‘Oh ... right.’
‘You know what?’ said Seamus heatedly, casting Harry a venomous look. ‘He's right, I don't want to share a dormitory with him any more, he's mad.’
‘That's out of order, Seamus,’ said Ron, whose ears were starting to glow red—always a danger sign.
‘Out of order, am I?’ shouted Seamus, who in contrast with Ron was going pale. ‘You believe all the rubbish he's come out with about You-Know-Who, do you, you reckon he's telling the truth?’
‘Yeah, I do!’ said Ron angrily.
‘Then you're mad, too,’ said Seamus in disgust.
‘Yeah? Well, unfortunately for you, pal, I'm also a prefect!’ said Ron, jabbing himself in the chest with a finger. ‘So unless you want detention, watch your mouth!’
Seamus looked for a few seconds as though detention would be a reasonable price to pay to say what was going through his mind; but with a noise of contempt he turned on his heel, vaulted into bed and pulled the hangings shut with such violence that they were ripped from the bed and fell in a dusty pile to the floor. Ron glared at Seamus, then looked at Dean and Neville.
‘Anyone else's parents got a problem with Harry?’ he said aggressively.
‘My parents are Muggles, mate,’ said Dean, shrugging. ‘They don't know nothing about no deaths at Hogwarts, because I'm not stupid enough to tell them.’
‘You don't know my mother, she'd weasel anything out of anyone!’ Seamus snapped at him. ‘Anyway, your parents don't get the Daily Prophet.They don't know our Headmaster's been sacked from the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards because he's losing his marbles—’
‘My gran says that's rubbish,’ piped up Neville. ‘She says it's the Daily Prophet that's going downhill, not Dumbledore. She's cancelled our subscription. We believe Harry,’ said Neville simply. He climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin, looking owlishly over them at Seamus. ‘My grans always said You-Know-Who would come back one day. She says if Dumbledore says he's back, he's back.’
‘Yeah, it was OK,’ chuckled Dean. ‘Better than Seamus's, anyway, he was just telling me.’
‘Why, what happened, Seamus?’ Neville asked as he placed his Mimbuius mimbletonia tenderly on his bedside cabinet.
Seamus did not answer immediately; he was making rather a meal of ensuring that his poster of the Kenmare Kestrels Quidditch team was quite straight. Then he said, with his back still turned to Harry, ‘Me mam didn't want me to come back.’
‘What?’ said Harry, pausing in the act of pulling off his robes.
‘She didn't want me to come back to Hogwarts.’
Seamus turned away from his poster and pulled his own pyjamas out of his trunk, still not looking at Harry.
‘But—why?’ said Harry, astonished. He knew that Seamus's mother was a witch and could not understand, therefore, why she should have come over so Dursleyish.
Seamus did not answer until he had finished buttoning his pyjamas.
‘Well,’ he said in a measured voice, ‘I suppose ... because of you.’
‘What d'you mean?’ said Harry quickly.
His heart was beating rather fast. He felt vaguely as though something was closing in on him.
‘Well,’ said Seamus again, still avoiding Harry's eye, she ... er ... well, it's not just you, it's Dumbledore, too ...’
‘She believes the Daily Prophet?’ said Harry. ‘She thinks I'm a liar and Dumbledore's an old fool?’
Seamus looked up at him.
‘Yeah, something like that.’
Harry said nothing. He threw his wand down on to his bedside table, pulled off his robes, stuffed them angrily into his trunk and pulled on his pyjamas. He was sick of it: sick of being the person who is stared at and talked about all the time. If any of them knew, if any of them had the faintest idea what it felt like to be the one all these things had happened to ... Mrs. Finnigan had no idea, the stupid woman, he thought savagely.
He got into bed and made to pull the hangings closed around him, but before he could do so, Seamus said, ‘Look ... what did happen that night when ... you know, when ... with Cedric Diggory and all?’
Seamus sounded nervous and eager at the same time. Dean, who had been bending over his trunk trying to retrieve a slipper, went oddly still and Harry knew he was listening hard.
‘What are you asking me for?’ Harry retorted. ‘Just read the Daily Prophet like your mother, why don't you? That'll tell you all you need to know.’
‘Don't you have a go at my mother,’ Seamus snapped.
‘I'll have a go at anyone who calls me a liar,’ said Harry.
‘Don't talk to me like that!’
‘I'll talk to you how I want,’ said Harry, his temper rising so fast he snatched his wand back from his bedside table. ‘If you've got a problem sharing a dormitory with me, go and ask McGonagall if you can be moved ... stop your mummy worrying— ’
‘Leave my mother out of this, Potter!’
‘What's going on?’
Ron had appeared in the doorway. His wide eyes travelled from Harry, who was kneeling on his bed with his wand pointing at Seamus, to Seamus, who was standing there with his fists raised.
‘He's having a go at my mother!’ Seamus yelled.
‘What?’ said Ron. ‘Harry wouldn't do that—we met your mother, we liked her ...’
‘That's before she started believing every word the stinking Daily Prophet writes about me!’ said Harry at the top of his voice.
‘Oh,’ said Ron, comprehension dawning across his freckled face. ‘Oh ... right.’
‘You know what?’ said Seamus heatedly, casting Harry a venomous look. ‘He's right, I don't want to share a dormitory with him any more, he's mad.’
‘That's out of order, Seamus,’ said Ron, whose ears were starting to glow red—always a danger sign.
‘Out of order, am I?’ shouted Seamus, who in contrast with Ron was going pale. ‘You believe all the rubbish he's come out with about You-Know-Who, do you, you reckon he's telling the truth?’
‘Yeah, I do!’ said Ron angrily.
‘Then you're mad, too,’ said Seamus in disgust.
‘Yeah? Well, unfortunately for you, pal, I'm also a prefect!’ said Ron, jabbing himself in the chest with a finger. ‘So unless you want detention, watch your mouth!’
Seamus looked for a few seconds as though detention would be a reasonable price to pay to say what was going through his mind; but with a noise of contempt he turned on his heel, vaulted into bed and pulled the hangings shut with such violence that they were ripped from the bed and fell in a dusty pile to the floor. Ron glared at Seamus, then looked at Dean and Neville.
‘Anyone else's parents got a problem with Harry?’ he said aggressively.
‘My parents are Muggles, mate,’ said Dean, shrugging. ‘They don't know nothing about no deaths at Hogwarts, because I'm not stupid enough to tell them.’
‘You don't know my mother, she'd weasel anything out of anyone!’ Seamus snapped at him. ‘Anyway, your parents don't get the Daily Prophet.They don't know our Headmaster's been sacked from the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards because he's losing his marbles—’
‘My gran says that's rubbish,’ piped up Neville. ‘She says it's the Daily Prophet that's going downhill, not Dumbledore. She's cancelled our subscription. We believe Harry,’ said Neville simply. He climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin, looking owlishly over them at Seamus. ‘My grans always said You-Know-Who would come back one day. She says if Dumbledore says he's back, he's back.’
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Chapter 13 Dentention Width Delores
Dinner in the Great Hall that night was not a pleasant experience for Harry. The news about his shouting match with Umbridge had travelled exceptionally fast even by Hogwarts’ standards. He heard whispers all around him as
he sat eating between Ron and Hermione. The funny thing was that none of the whisperers seemed to mind him overhearing what they were saying about him. On the contrary, it was as though they were hoping he would get
angry and start shouting again, so that they could hear his story first-hand.
‘He says he saw Cedric Diggory murdered ...’
‘He reckons he duelled with You-Know-Who ...’
‘Come off it ...’
‘Who does he think he's kidding?’
‘Pur-lease ...’
‘What I don't get,’ said Harry through clenched teeth, laying down his knife and fork (his hands were shaking too much to hold them steady), ‘is why they all believed the story two months ago when Dumbledore told them ...’
‘The thing is, Harry, I'm not sure they did,’ said Hermione grimly. ‘Oh, let's get out of here.’
She slammed down her own knife and fork; Ron looked longingly at his half-finished apple pie but followed suit. People stared at them all the way out of the Hall.
‘What d'you mean, you're not sure they believed Dumbledore?’ Harry asked Hermione when they reached the first-floor landing.
‘Look, you don't understand what it was like after it happened,’ said Hermione quietly. ‘You arrived back in the middle of the lawn clutching Cedric's dead body ... none of us saw what what happened in the maze ... we just had
Dumbledore's word for it that You-Know-Who had come back and killed Cedric and fought you.’
‘Which is the truth!’ said Harry loudly.
‘I know it is, Harry, so will you please stop biting my head off?’ said Hermione wearily. ‘It's just that before the truth could sink in, everyone went home for the summer, where they spent two months reading about how you're a
nutcase and Dumbledore's going senile!’
Rain pounded on the windowpanes as they strode along the empty corridors back to Gryffindor Tower. Harry felt as though his first day had lasted a week, but he still had a mountain of homework to do before bed. A dull
pounding pain was developing over his right eye. He glanced out of a rain-washed window at the dark grounds as they turned into the Fat Lady's corridor. There was still no light in Hagrid's cabin.
‘Mimbulus mimbletonia,’ said Hermione, before the Fat Lady could ask. The portrait swung open to reveal the hole behind it and the three of them scrambled through it.
The common room was almost empty; nearly everyone was still down at dinner. Crookshanks uncoiled himself from an armchair and trotted to meet them, purring loudly, and when Harry, Ron and Hermione took their three
favourite chairs at the fireside he leapt lightly on to Hermione's lap and curled up there like a furry ginger cushion. Harry gazed into the flames, feeling drained and exhausted.
‘How can Dumbledore have let this happen?’ Hermione cried suddenly, making Harry and Ron jump; Crookshanks leapt off her, looking affronted. She pounded the arms of her chair in fury, so that bits of stuffing leaked out of
the holes. ‘How can he let that terrible woman teach us? And in our OWL year, too!’
‘Well, we've never had great Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers, have we?’ said Harry. ‘You know what it's like, Hagrid told us, nobody wants the job; they say it's jinxed.’
‘Yes, but to employ someone who's actually refusing to let us do magic! What's Dumbledore playing at?’
‘And she's trying to get people to spy for her,’ said Ron darkly.
‘Remember when she said she wanted us to come and tell her if we hear anyone saying You-Know-Who's back?’
‘Of course she's here to spy on us all, that's obvious, why else would Fudge have wanted her to come?’ snapped Hermione.
‘Don't start arguing again,’ said Harry wearily, as Ron opened his mouth to retaliate. ‘Can't we just... let's just do that homework, get it out of the way...’
They collected their schoolbags from a corner and returned to the chairs by the fire. People were coming back from dinner now. Harry kept his face averted from the portrait hole, but could still sense the stares he was
attracting.
‘Shall we do Snape's stuff first?’ said Ron, dipping his quill into his ink. ‘"The properties... of moonstone... and its uses ... in potion-making...”’ he muttered, writing the words across the top of his parchment as he spoke them. ‘
There.’ He underlined the title, then looked up expectantly at Hermione.
‘So, what are the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making?’
But Hermione was not listening; she was squinting over into the far corner of the room, where Fred, George and Lee Jordan were now sitting at the centre of a knot of innocent-looking first-years, all of whom were chewing
something that seemed to have come out of a large paper bag that Fred was holding.
‘No, I'm sorry, they've gone too far,’ she said, standing up and looking positively furious. ‘Come on, Ron.’
‘I —what?’ said Ron, plainly playing for time. ‘No—come on, Hermione—we can't tell them off for giving out sweets.’
‘You know perfectly well that those are bits of Nosebleed Nougat or—or Puking Pastilles or—’
gucci handbags
burberry sale
prada
chanel outlet
uggs
he sat eating between Ron and Hermione. The funny thing was that none of the whisperers seemed to mind him overhearing what they were saying about him. On the contrary, it was as though they were hoping he would get
angry and start shouting again, so that they could hear his story first-hand.
‘He says he saw Cedric Diggory murdered ...’
‘He reckons he duelled with You-Know-Who ...’
‘Come off it ...’
‘Who does he think he's kidding?’
‘Pur-lease ...’
‘What I don't get,’ said Harry through clenched teeth, laying down his knife and fork (his hands were shaking too much to hold them steady), ‘is why they all believed the story two months ago when Dumbledore told them ...’
‘The thing is, Harry, I'm not sure they did,’ said Hermione grimly. ‘Oh, let's get out of here.’
She slammed down her own knife and fork; Ron looked longingly at his half-finished apple pie but followed suit. People stared at them all the way out of the Hall.
‘What d'you mean, you're not sure they believed Dumbledore?’ Harry asked Hermione when they reached the first-floor landing.
‘Look, you don't understand what it was like after it happened,’ said Hermione quietly. ‘You arrived back in the middle of the lawn clutching Cedric's dead body ... none of us saw what what happened in the maze ... we just had
Dumbledore's word for it that You-Know-Who had come back and killed Cedric and fought you.’
‘Which is the truth!’ said Harry loudly.
‘I know it is, Harry, so will you please stop biting my head off?’ said Hermione wearily. ‘It's just that before the truth could sink in, everyone went home for the summer, where they spent two months reading about how you're a
nutcase and Dumbledore's going senile!’
Rain pounded on the windowpanes as they strode along the empty corridors back to Gryffindor Tower. Harry felt as though his first day had lasted a week, but he still had a mountain of homework to do before bed. A dull
pounding pain was developing over his right eye. He glanced out of a rain-washed window at the dark grounds as they turned into the Fat Lady's corridor. There was still no light in Hagrid's cabin.
‘Mimbulus mimbletonia,’ said Hermione, before the Fat Lady could ask. The portrait swung open to reveal the hole behind it and the three of them scrambled through it.
The common room was almost empty; nearly everyone was still down at dinner. Crookshanks uncoiled himself from an armchair and trotted to meet them, purring loudly, and when Harry, Ron and Hermione took their three
favourite chairs at the fireside he leapt lightly on to Hermione's lap and curled up there like a furry ginger cushion. Harry gazed into the flames, feeling drained and exhausted.
‘How can Dumbledore have let this happen?’ Hermione cried suddenly, making Harry and Ron jump; Crookshanks leapt off her, looking affronted. She pounded the arms of her chair in fury, so that bits of stuffing leaked out of
the holes. ‘How can he let that terrible woman teach us? And in our OWL year, too!’
‘Well, we've never had great Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers, have we?’ said Harry. ‘You know what it's like, Hagrid told us, nobody wants the job; they say it's jinxed.’
‘Yes, but to employ someone who's actually refusing to let us do magic! What's Dumbledore playing at?’
‘And she's trying to get people to spy for her,’ said Ron darkly.
‘Remember when she said she wanted us to come and tell her if we hear anyone saying You-Know-Who's back?’
‘Of course she's here to spy on us all, that's obvious, why else would Fudge have wanted her to come?’ snapped Hermione.
‘Don't start arguing again,’ said Harry wearily, as Ron opened his mouth to retaliate. ‘Can't we just... let's just do that homework, get it out of the way...’
They collected their schoolbags from a corner and returned to the chairs by the fire. People were coming back from dinner now. Harry kept his face averted from the portrait hole, but could still sense the stares he was
attracting.
‘Shall we do Snape's stuff first?’ said Ron, dipping his quill into his ink. ‘"The properties... of moonstone... and its uses ... in potion-making...”’ he muttered, writing the words across the top of his parchment as he spoke them. ‘
There.’ He underlined the title, then looked up expectantly at Hermione.
‘So, what are the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making?’
But Hermione was not listening; she was squinting over into the far corner of the room, where Fred, George and Lee Jordan were now sitting at the centre of a knot of innocent-looking first-years, all of whom were chewing
something that seemed to have come out of a large paper bag that Fred was holding.
‘No, I'm sorry, they've gone too far,’ she said, standing up and looking positively furious. ‘Come on, Ron.’
‘I —what?’ said Ron, plainly playing for time. ‘No—come on, Hermione—we can't tell them off for giving out sweets.’
‘You know perfectly well that those are bits of Nosebleed Nougat or—or Puking Pastilles or—’
gucci handbags
burberry sale
prada
chanel outlet
uggs
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Election 2008: Do you know the hidden power of your vote?
Author：Henk Mutsaers Source：none Hits：81 UpdateTime：2008-7-10 22:44:25
Do you know most people use their voting rights totally wrong?
What are your voting options at the 2008 election? Like many people, you got the idea once and a while that politicians have a short memory. Forget what you promised is like a disease called Alzheimer light. The thought comes often up in my mind; "Why should I vote next time?" Another option is a blanc protest vote. You demonstrate the unhappiness with the choice of candidates or current political system. On the other hand with a blanc vote you made a statement that you are involved. If you dont vote at all you also gives a sign its not worth to show whatsoever.
Do you know how youre vote really makes a difference?
If you think you did your duty by voting at the local elections and the new president, you forgot the most powerful option. You dont know how democracy really works. Oke, Ive said it. Did it hurt?
You got to know, when I point one finger at you, there are more fingers pointing in my direction. I too didnt use my voting rights to its full potential. We not only have the option to vote when they ask us to do so, but you have the power to vote every day, every hour and every minute!
The best way to vote is with your wallet! If I decide to buy some cheap products, perhaps I vote for child labor? Or the product I just bought helps a dictator in another country. Or worse, it gives fuel to a war. But if you don't know all these matters. You have to be well informed to have your vote counted for.
With these options your vote should be perfectly clear. If you go to the supermarket and buy heavily processed junk foods, you agree that those companies use all those chemical additives that undermine your health. An expensive health insurance system in the future is another hidden vote. If you have shares with Merck you dont bother that 78.000 people died using their painkiller Vioxx.
Those are only two examples where we as consumers have the power to vote with our wallet. If more people black label their products they must change their policy or go out of business. In the pre-Internet age those companies could influence us through the newspapers, radio and television. With the Internet everybody can share their opinion on a Blog or personal website and becomes a journalist.
Thats the reason why the Codex Alimentarius becomes a threat for our democratic rights. We become silent, the movie, makes this clear. You and I arent allowed to share our personal health experiences in combination with a product or service we use. This will be seen as an unlawful health claim. In fact, Codex will impact our right to vote and . democracy!
By looking at things differently, I decided the use my voting right on a 24 / 7 base. A man can have thousand wishes, but if you lose your health, youve got only one wish left. All governments in our western world have made thousands decisions over the past decades. If we put them on a old fashioned balance and at the other side we put Codex Alimentarius combined with our poor food quality and the helpless sickness industry. The balance will smash to the ground, so hard, all thousand other government decisions will splash against the sealing. That leaves me on a 24/7 scale with only one second left. Its the second that my government will ask me for my vote. Right now I will say; "Sorry but Ive got no time". Im too busy taking care for my personal health!
Do you know most people use their voting rights totally wrong?
What are your voting options at the 2008 election? Like many people, you got the idea once and a while that politicians have a short memory. Forget what you promised is like a disease called Alzheimer light. The thought comes often up in my mind; "Why should I vote next time?" Another option is a blanc protest vote. You demonstrate the unhappiness with the choice of candidates or current political system. On the other hand with a blanc vote you made a statement that you are involved. If you dont vote at all you also gives a sign its not worth to show whatsoever.
Do you know how youre vote really makes a difference?
If you think you did your duty by voting at the local elections and the new president, you forgot the most powerful option. You dont know how democracy really works. Oke, Ive said it. Did it hurt?
You got to know, when I point one finger at you, there are more fingers pointing in my direction. I too didnt use my voting rights to its full potential. We not only have the option to vote when they ask us to do so, but you have the power to vote every day, every hour and every minute!
The best way to vote is with your wallet! If I decide to buy some cheap products, perhaps I vote for child labor? Or the product I just bought helps a dictator in another country. Or worse, it gives fuel to a war. But if you don't know all these matters. You have to be well informed to have your vote counted for.
With these options your vote should be perfectly clear. If you go to the supermarket and buy heavily processed junk foods, you agree that those companies use all those chemical additives that undermine your health. An expensive health insurance system in the future is another hidden vote. If you have shares with Merck you dont bother that 78.000 people died using their painkiller Vioxx.
Those are only two examples where we as consumers have the power to vote with our wallet. If more people black label their products they must change their policy or go out of business. In the pre-Internet age those companies could influence us through the newspapers, radio and television. With the Internet everybody can share their opinion on a Blog or personal website and becomes a journalist.
Thats the reason why the Codex Alimentarius becomes a threat for our democratic rights. We become silent, the movie, makes this clear. You and I arent allowed to share our personal health experiences in combination with a product or service we use. This will be seen as an unlawful health claim. In fact, Codex will impact our right to vote and . democracy!
By looking at things differently, I decided the use my voting right on a 24 / 7 base. A man can have thousand wishes, but if you lose your health, youve got only one wish left. All governments in our western world have made thousands decisions over the past decades. If we put them on a old fashioned balance and at the other side we put Codex Alimentarius combined with our poor food quality and the helpless sickness industry. The balance will smash to the ground, so hard, all thousand other government decisions will splash against the sealing. That leaves me on a 24/7 scale with only one second left. Its the second that my government will ask me for my vote. Right now I will say; "Sorry but Ive got no time". Im too busy taking care for my personal health!
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Savings Advantage With A Home Tankless Hot Water Heater
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：113 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 1:13:53
If you are in the market for a new water heater, you may not be up on the new alternative called tankless hot water heater. Right at first glance, the difference in size should be an indication that there is different technology at
work.
If you are looking for reasons for choosing a tankless water heater for your home, there are several. One, of course, is the efficiency it offers, year after year. This can be significant over the life of a tankless model, which
itself can be significant. And there is the option of replaceable parts. All these are good environmental reasons to go tankless.
Not to be overlooked is the efficiency factor. Many of todays appliances are far more energy efficient than they were 10 years ago. Do the math and you can see why the doubling of natural gas prices in the last decade and
the doubling on energy efficiency could make a significant difference.
A fair comparison of tank and tankless heater should point up the fact that most conventional heaters are cheaper to install - perhaps less than a third the price of a gas tankless. Of course, this extra money spent initially is
made up by years of higher efficiency.
Conventional heaters offer the best deal in initial cost, while tankless heaters hold the upper hand in when it comes to energy efficiency. This can make your buying choices a little more difficult to sort out. Regardless of your
budget or family needs, the biggest factors are probably how utility rates compare in your area, whether you will need to upgrade your gas or electrical service and where you live geographically. These answers are not
difficult to find and it will make you a savvy consumer.
The four popular choices, when it comes to hot water, are tank or tankless, powered by natural gas or electricity. Considering that this is an appliance that will be with you for ten to 20 years, its good to get it right. This is the
simplest way to show you the four choices: Electric tankless - 90-99 percent efficiency, medium cost, 1-7 gpm hot water Electric Tank - 90-95 percent efficiency, low cost Gas tankless - 80-85 percent efficiency, high cost, 8-14
gpm hot water Gas tank - 60-65 percent efficiency, low cost
No one is able to predict what the energy situation will be in the future, but in all likelihood it will be cleaner and more diverse. Having a tankless water heater is already a step toward fuel efficiency that you can enjoy taking.
uggs
chanel 2.55
burberry outlet
coach outlet
If you are in the market for a new water heater, you may not be up on the new alternative called tankless hot water heater. Right at first glance, the difference in size should be an indication that there is different technology at
work.
If you are looking for reasons for choosing a tankless water heater for your home, there are several. One, of course, is the efficiency it offers, year after year. This can be significant over the life of a tankless model, which
itself can be significant. And there is the option of replaceable parts. All these are good environmental reasons to go tankless.
Not to be overlooked is the efficiency factor. Many of todays appliances are far more energy efficient than they were 10 years ago. Do the math and you can see why the doubling of natural gas prices in the last decade and
the doubling on energy efficiency could make a significant difference.
A fair comparison of tank and tankless heater should point up the fact that most conventional heaters are cheaper to install - perhaps less than a third the price of a gas tankless. Of course, this extra money spent initially is
made up by years of higher efficiency.
Conventional heaters offer the best deal in initial cost, while tankless heaters hold the upper hand in when it comes to energy efficiency. This can make your buying choices a little more difficult to sort out. Regardless of your
budget or family needs, the biggest factors are probably how utility rates compare in your area, whether you will need to upgrade your gas or electrical service and where you live geographically. These answers are not
difficult to find and it will make you a savvy consumer.
The four popular choices, when it comes to hot water, are tank or tankless, powered by natural gas or electricity. Considering that this is an appliance that will be with you for ten to 20 years, its good to get it right. This is the
simplest way to show you the four choices: Electric tankless - 90-99 percent efficiency, medium cost, 1-7 gpm hot water Electric Tank - 90-95 percent efficiency, low cost Gas tankless - 80-85 percent efficiency, high cost, 8-14
gpm hot water Gas tank - 60-65 percent efficiency, low cost
No one is able to predict what the energy situation will be in the future, but in all likelihood it will be cleaner and more diverse. Having a tankless water heater is already a step toward fuel efficiency that you can enjoy taking.
uggs
chanel 2.55
burberry outlet
coach outlet
Monday, November 8, 2010
Factors and Symptoms of Depression
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：37 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 0:50:32
Depression is described as the sad or irritable behavior of the individual that has greater intensity and duration. It is a common illness, but is very serious and common among the people. It is caused due to the imbalance of chemicals, called the neurotransmitters, which carry signals to brain and nerves for communication. There are various other factors, which cause depression among the human beings. An individual can be depressed due to his own eating habits and physical conditions or due to the environment in which he is living. The eating habits of the individual, family history, eating disorders, smoking, stress and physical conditions of the individual, the loss of the loved ones of the individual are the factors that lead to depression among the human beings. The other important factors that leads to depression are:
1. Marital factor: If a person is happily married then chances of depression decreases.
2. Age: People of old ages are more prone to depression.
3. Heredity: If there is a family history then chances of depression increases.
4. Gender: The depression is found more in women than in women . A study shows that twenty five percent of women are suffering from depression in comparison to twelve percent of man. The factors for this difference are:
a. women are more sensitive than men.
b. women are full of emotions.
c. There is a frequent change in female hormones than in men.
d. Women feel more stress than man as they have to play various roles like wife and mother simultaneously with their work at home and office. They find it difficult to manage.
e. Men thinks that alcohol can provide them help to get rid of depression, but in reality it masks the depression. In comparison women are less addicted to alcohol.
5.Previous Episodes: If a person has suffered from depression once before then there are more chances in that person to develop it again.
There are many symptoms of depression that can be seen in an individual. If any individual comes across at east five or more of the above symptoms for more than two months, then it is a symptom of depression. These symptoms are as follows:
Feeling sad or feeling like crying in children and irritation in adults.
Loss of interest in performing routine work
Sudden gain or loss of weight of the individual
Not being able to concentrate and take decisions
The thoughts of death or suicide
Temporary loss of memory
Sleeping and eating disorders
Persistent pains, cramps and digestive problems
Fatigue and loss of energy
Depression is described as the sad or irritable behavior of the individual that has greater intensity and duration. It is a common illness, but is very serious and common among the people. It is caused due to the imbalance of chemicals, called the neurotransmitters, which carry signals to brain and nerves for communication. There are various other factors, which cause depression among the human beings. An individual can be depressed due to his own eating habits and physical conditions or due to the environment in which he is living. The eating habits of the individual, family history, eating disorders, smoking, stress and physical conditions of the individual, the loss of the loved ones of the individual are the factors that lead to depression among the human beings. The other important factors that leads to depression are:
1. Marital factor: If a person is happily married then chances of depression decreases.
2. Age: People of old ages are more prone to depression.
3. Heredity: If there is a family history then chances of depression increases.
4. Gender: The depression is found more in women than in women . A study shows that twenty five percent of women are suffering from depression in comparison to twelve percent of man. The factors for this difference are:
a. women are more sensitive than men.
b. women are full of emotions.
c. There is a frequent change in female hormones than in men.
d. Women feel more stress than man as they have to play various roles like wife and mother simultaneously with their work at home and office. They find it difficult to manage.
e. Men thinks that alcohol can provide them help to get rid of depression, but in reality it masks the depression. In comparison women are less addicted to alcohol.
5.Previous Episodes: If a person has suffered from depression once before then there are more chances in that person to develop it again.
There are many symptoms of depression that can be seen in an individual. If any individual comes across at east five or more of the above symptoms for more than two months, then it is a symptom of depression. These symptoms are as follows:
Feeling sad or feeling like crying in children and irritation in adults.
Loss of interest in performing routine work
Sudden gain or loss of weight of the individual
Not being able to concentrate and take decisions
The thoughts of death or suicide
Temporary loss of memory
Sleeping and eating disorders
Persistent pains, cramps and digestive problems
Fatigue and loss of energy
Rainforest Herbs Improve Digestion
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：45 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 0:50:56
Try putting sugar in a gas tank and what happens? Your engine pops, belches and ultimately can ruin your engine. Its like bad health -- disappointing, disruptive and expensive. Our physiological gas tanks our digestive systems are more sophisticated and can handle a lot more abuse. But ultimately they too can spiral out of control and really ruin our day.
Too often we neglect the all-important fuel we put into our bodies. We may be too busy, too tired, too stressed, or too hungry to bother with a good meal. While theres no substitute for good nutrition, sometimes we just dont get there. Thats when it makes sense to support our systems with the next best thing natural, well-balanced herbs to support our digestion. Tiger Tummy helps our body maximize energy and nutrition, and helps with the common symptoms of tummy trouble -- acid reflux and poor digestion.
The secret is a blend of herbs that work simply and effectively by supporting the key organs important to digestion: The liver and gallbladder so they produce bile. The stomach so digestive juices are strong. Protection against acid reflux, maximizing the breakdown of food in the stomach, supporting the intestinal tract and helping things move efficiently and quickly. Our bodies are designed to keep what we need for the best possible nutritional results. Tiger Tummy supports that process. By doing so it turns regular into super so our digestive engine works at maximum capacity.
The Herbs in Tiger Tummy
Tiger Tummy blends together well-known and well-researched rainforest herbs to stimulate healthy digestion -- carqueja, artichoke, fedegoso, quinine, gervo, and pico preto. Carqueja (Baccharis genistelloides): Traditionally carqueja has been used to support various digestive disorders such as ulcers, acid reflux, and gastroenteritis. Carqueja is in Tiger Tummy because it helps strengthen the entire digestive process. It is often recommended to help rebuild after a bout with an intestinal bug. As the S. American equivalent of milk thistle, it is highly revered as a liver protector and detoxifier.
Artichoke (Cynara scolymus): A member of the milk thistle family, artichoke shares the same liver protective qualities. It is used around the world both as a food and a medicinal healer. It is a liver tonic and detoxifier. It has long been used to treat liver and gallbladder ailments and is included in Tiger Tummy for its strong protective qualities. As added benefits, recent studies have shown artichoke to be higher in antioxidants than any other vegetable, and higher than chocolate or blueberries. It has also been shown to lower cholesterol.
Fedegoso (Cassia occidentalis): Like carqueja, fedegoso boasts a large body of research documenting its use to promote healthy liver function and repair liver damage. It is in Tiger Tummy because liver cleansing is key to healthy digestion.
Quinine (Cinchona succirubra): Quinine bark, used for malaria and to reduce fever, is one of the rainforests most famous plants. But centuries before it became known around the world, it was used as a stomach bitter to treat indigestion. Quinine bark is a completely safe and valuable part of Tiger Tummys soothing effects on the digestive system.
Try putting sugar in a gas tank and what happens? Your engine pops, belches and ultimately can ruin your engine. Its like bad health -- disappointing, disruptive and expensive. Our physiological gas tanks our digestive systems are more sophisticated and can handle a lot more abuse. But ultimately they too can spiral out of control and really ruin our day.
Too often we neglect the all-important fuel we put into our bodies. We may be too busy, too tired, too stressed, or too hungry to bother with a good meal. While theres no substitute for good nutrition, sometimes we just dont get there. Thats when it makes sense to support our systems with the next best thing natural, well-balanced herbs to support our digestion. Tiger Tummy helps our body maximize energy and nutrition, and helps with the common symptoms of tummy trouble -- acid reflux and poor digestion.
The secret is a blend of herbs that work simply and effectively by supporting the key organs important to digestion: The liver and gallbladder so they produce bile. The stomach so digestive juices are strong. Protection against acid reflux, maximizing the breakdown of food in the stomach, supporting the intestinal tract and helping things move efficiently and quickly. Our bodies are designed to keep what we need for the best possible nutritional results. Tiger Tummy supports that process. By doing so it turns regular into super so our digestive engine works at maximum capacity.
The Herbs in Tiger Tummy
Tiger Tummy blends together well-known and well-researched rainforest herbs to stimulate healthy digestion -- carqueja, artichoke, fedegoso, quinine, gervo, and pico preto. Carqueja (Baccharis genistelloides): Traditionally carqueja has been used to support various digestive disorders such as ulcers, acid reflux, and gastroenteritis. Carqueja is in Tiger Tummy because it helps strengthen the entire digestive process. It is often recommended to help rebuild after a bout with an intestinal bug. As the S. American equivalent of milk thistle, it is highly revered as a liver protector and detoxifier.
Artichoke (Cynara scolymus): A member of the milk thistle family, artichoke shares the same liver protective qualities. It is used around the world both as a food and a medicinal healer. It is a liver tonic and detoxifier. It has long been used to treat liver and gallbladder ailments and is included in Tiger Tummy for its strong protective qualities. As added benefits, recent studies have shown artichoke to be higher in antioxidants than any other vegetable, and higher than chocolate or blueberries. It has also been shown to lower cholesterol.
Fedegoso (Cassia occidentalis): Like carqueja, fedegoso boasts a large body of research documenting its use to promote healthy liver function and repair liver damage. It is in Tiger Tummy because liver cleansing is key to healthy digestion.
Quinine (Cinchona succirubra): Quinine bark, used for malaria and to reduce fever, is one of the rainforests most famous plants. But centuries before it became known around the world, it was used as a stomach bitter to treat indigestion. Quinine bark is a completely safe and valuable part of Tiger Tummys soothing effects on the digestive system.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Forex Trading System - This Ones FREE Made Millions and is Enclosed!
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：44 UpdateTime：2008-10-18 23:54:36
Yes, you read correctly, this forex trading system is totally free, simple to understand and apply and has made savvy traders countless millions, over the last 20 years and everything, you need to know about it is enclosed...
The system we are going to look at was devised by legendary trader Richard Donchian and while incredibly simple - it works.
The system is called the 4 Week Rule and the rule of the system is this:
Buy any new 4 week calendar high, then reverse and sell any 4 week calendar low and then reverse again on a 4 Week high. It's a stop and reverse system and you always maintain a position in the market.
You can do it in your head, don't even need a computer and the rule is totally objective you just follow it, no subjective judgement is needed.
Does it make money?
Yes check it out for yourself and the logic it is based on is sound and that is - most new trends start or continue from new market highs and this is based on long term breakout methodology, so it will effectively puts you in on every major trend. As these big trends can last for many weeks, months or even years, it can make a lot of money.
It's Totally Objective and Time Efficient
The other huge advantage is time to apply it, you only need 15 minutes a day or less and on some days you will be so far from a signal you don't even need to look at the market.
The system works well in any trending market and as currencies trend so well, it's an ideal market to apply it on.
A Filter
All systems have a downside and this one will take losses and get chopped around, when the market doesn't trend but you can add a filter and that's to exit on a shorter time scale say, 1 or 2 weeks, then remain flat, until the next 4 week trigger kicks you in again with your trading signal.
Both ways will make money but adding the filter smoothes the downside.
It Beats Sold Robots Easily
Its simple, doesn't have glossy packaging or a catchy name, like many of the numerous forex robots sold by vendors - but they don't have the one important thing this system has - a real track record.
All the forex robots that are sold come with meaningless, back tested simulations and lose. This one comes with a track record of real gains and has been used by savvy traders for years.
Use It and Enjoy Currency Trading Success
If you want profits and you want a simple, easy, to apply system, then the 4 Week Rule is ideal. So before you think of buying a forex trading system, t
Yes, you read correctly, this forex trading system is totally free, simple to understand and apply and has made savvy traders countless millions, over the last 20 years and everything, you need to know about it is enclosed...
The system we are going to look at was devised by legendary trader Richard Donchian and while incredibly simple - it works.
The system is called the 4 Week Rule and the rule of the system is this:
Buy any new 4 week calendar high, then reverse and sell any 4 week calendar low and then reverse again on a 4 Week high. It's a stop and reverse system and you always maintain a position in the market.
You can do it in your head, don't even need a computer and the rule is totally objective you just follow it, no subjective judgement is needed.
Does it make money?
Yes check it out for yourself and the logic it is based on is sound and that is - most new trends start or continue from new market highs and this is based on long term breakout methodology, so it will effectively puts you in on every major trend. As these big trends can last for many weeks, months or even years, it can make a lot of money.
It's Totally Objective and Time Efficient
The other huge advantage is time to apply it, you only need 15 minutes a day or less and on some days you will be so far from a signal you don't even need to look at the market.
The system works well in any trending market and as currencies trend so well, it's an ideal market to apply it on.
A Filter
All systems have a downside and this one will take losses and get chopped around, when the market doesn't trend but you can add a filter and that's to exit on a shorter time scale say, 1 or 2 weeks, then remain flat, until the next 4 week trigger kicks you in again with your trading signal.
Both ways will make money but adding the filter smoothes the downside.
It Beats Sold Robots Easily
Its simple, doesn't have glossy packaging or a catchy name, like many of the numerous forex robots sold by vendors - but they don't have the one important thing this system has - a real track record.
All the forex robots that are sold come with meaningless, back tested simulations and lose. This one comes with a track record of real gains and has been used by savvy traders for years.
Use It and Enjoy Currency Trading Success
If you want profits and you want a simple, easy, to apply system, then the 4 Week Rule is ideal. So before you think of buying a forex trading system, t
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
The Most Popular Locations For A Wedding Outside The U.S.
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：36 UpdateTime：2008-10-18 23:26:02
Getting married locally is not the best option for all couples. Sometimes, it can really pay to have an exotic wedding location. Although not all of your guests will be financially able to attend, if you choose a location outside of the United States that you love, you can already be there, ready for your honeymoon. There are both advantages and disadvantages to choosing wedding locations outside of the United States, but for some couples it makes a lot of sense. If you are considering a wedding in a foreign location, consider some of the following destinations. There are some of the most popular wedding locations outside of the United States.
Mexico
Mexico is by far one of the most popular wedding destinations in the world. There are many reasons which contribute to this distinction. The sheer variety of beautiful and tropical locations is certainly a reason why couples choose to have their wedding in Mexico. In places like Cabo, you can find all-inclusive resorts with white sand beaches, palm trees and beautiful blue water. The coastal regions in Mexico have the same look and feel as a Caribbean island. In many cases, you can also find that a Mexican option is affordable, which means that more people can afford to fly to your wedding and you can afford to stay on your honeymoon much longer.
The Bahamas
Many couples also choose the Bahamas for their destination wedding. This is one of the most popular tourist locations in the Caribbean, and it is attractive for many brides and grooms because it is only a very short flight from Florida. While in the Bahamas, you can choose an island resort in Nassau, Freeport, or one of the other major cities in this country. You can also opt for more privacy by having your wedding on one of the smaller islands. A tropical paradise, the Bahamas is home to a variety of exotic birds, fish and mammals. As an added bonus, many cruises leave from the Bahamas, so you can enjoy a cruise as part of your honeymoon after the wedding is over.
Fiji
If you want a great tropical choice without going to the Caribbean, why not consider Fiji? Fiji is an extremely popular destination for weddings because it is more secluded from families and tourists than most of the islands in the Caribbean. Most travel agents have special wedding packages to help your guests get to Fiji, but if you choose this destination, be forewarned that the flights will typically be more expensive. The farther away your wedding, the fewer people who will be able to afford the trip to see you get married. Fiji is a distant and exotic wedding location, but one worth the trip.
Europe
Although Europe might not immediately spring to mind when you are considering wedding destinations, this is a great choice and less expensive than you may think. There are a number of romantic locations in Europe, including numerous castles which host weddings. You can also consider visiting the home country of your ancestors - many people in the United States have roots in Europe. Remember, Europe's weather is not always sunny and warm, so plan your wedding for a date when the weather is right for you and your guests.
Getting married locally is not the best option for all couples. Sometimes, it can really pay to have an exotic wedding location. Although not all of your guests will be financially able to attend, if you choose a location outside of the United States that you love, you can already be there, ready for your honeymoon. There are both advantages and disadvantages to choosing wedding locations outside of the United States, but for some couples it makes a lot of sense. If you are considering a wedding in a foreign location, consider some of the following destinations. There are some of the most popular wedding locations outside of the United States.
Mexico
Mexico is by far one of the most popular wedding destinations in the world. There are many reasons which contribute to this distinction. The sheer variety of beautiful and tropical locations is certainly a reason why couples choose to have their wedding in Mexico. In places like Cabo, you can find all-inclusive resorts with white sand beaches, palm trees and beautiful blue water. The coastal regions in Mexico have the same look and feel as a Caribbean island. In many cases, you can also find that a Mexican option is affordable, which means that more people can afford to fly to your wedding and you can afford to stay on your honeymoon much longer.
The Bahamas
Many couples also choose the Bahamas for their destination wedding. This is one of the most popular tourist locations in the Caribbean, and it is attractive for many brides and grooms because it is only a very short flight from Florida. While in the Bahamas, you can choose an island resort in Nassau, Freeport, or one of the other major cities in this country. You can also opt for more privacy by having your wedding on one of the smaller islands. A tropical paradise, the Bahamas is home to a variety of exotic birds, fish and mammals. As an added bonus, many cruises leave from the Bahamas, so you can enjoy a cruise as part of your honeymoon after the wedding is over.
Fiji
If you want a great tropical choice without going to the Caribbean, why not consider Fiji? Fiji is an extremely popular destination for weddings because it is more secluded from families and tourists than most of the islands in the Caribbean. Most travel agents have special wedding packages to help your guests get to Fiji, but if you choose this destination, be forewarned that the flights will typically be more expensive. The farther away your wedding, the fewer people who will be able to afford the trip to see you get married. Fiji is a distant and exotic wedding location, but one worth the trip.
Europe
Although Europe might not immediately spring to mind when you are considering wedding destinations, this is a great choice and less expensive than you may think. There are a number of romantic locations in Europe, including numerous castles which host weddings. You can also consider visiting the home country of your ancestors - many people in the United States have roots in Europe. Remember, Europe's weather is not always sunny and warm, so plan your wedding for a date when the weather is right for you and your guests.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)