“Exactly – he’s the best!” said Uncle Vernon, pointing at the blank television screen. The Dursleys had spotted Kingsley on the news, walking along the Muggle Prime Minister as he visited a hospital. This, and the fact that Kingsley had mastered the knack of dressing like a Muggle, not to mention a certain reassuring something in his slow, deep voice, had caused the Dursleys to take to Kingsley in a way that they had certainly not done with any other wizard, although it was true that they had never seen him with earring in.
“Well, he’s taken,” said Harry. “But Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle are more than up to the job – ”
“If we’d even seen CVs…” began Uncle Vernon, but Harry lost patience. Getting to his feet, he advanced on his uncle, not pointing at the TV set himself.
“These accidents aren’t accidents – the crashed and explosions and derailments and whatever else has happened since we last watched the news. People are disappearing and dying and he’s behind it – Voldemort. I’ve told you this over and over again, he kills Muggles for fun. Even the fogs – they’re caused by dementors, and if you can’t remember what they are, ask your son!”
Dudley’s hands jerked upward to tower his mouth. With his parents’ and Harry’s eyes upon him, he slowly lowered them again and asked, “There are… more of them?”
“More?” laughed Harry. “More than the two that attacked us, you mean? Of course there are hundreds, maybe thousands by this time, seeing as they feed off fear and despair – ”
“All right, all right blustered,” blustered Vernon Dursley. “You’ve made your point – ”
“I hope so,” said Harry, “because once I’m seventeen, all of them – Death Eaters, elementors, maybe even Inferi – which means dead bodies enchanted by a Dark wizard – will be able to find you and will certainly attack you. And if you remember the last time you tried to outrun wizards, I think you’ll agree you need help.”
There was a brief silence in which the distant echo of Hagrid smashing down a wooden front door seemed to reverberate through the intervening years. Aunt Petunia was looking at Uncle Vernon; Dudley was staring at Harry. Finally Uncle Vernon blurted out, “But what about my work? What about Dudley’s school? I don’t suppose those things matter to a bunch of layabout wizards – ”
“Don’t you understand?” shouted Harry. “They will torture and kill you like they did my parents!”
“Dad,” said Dudley in a loud voice, “Dad – I’m going with these Order people.”
“Dudley,” said Harry, “for the first time in your life, you’re talking sense.” He knew the battle was won. If Dudley was frightened enough to accept the Order’s help, his parents would accompany him. There could be no question of being separated from their Duddykins. Harry glanced at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece.
“They’ll be here in about five minutes,” he said, and when one of the Dursleys replied, he left the room. The prospect of parting – probably forever – from his aunt, uncle, and cousin was one that he was able to contemplate quite cheerfully but there was nevertheless a certain awkwardness in the air. What did you say to one another at the end of sixteen years’ solid dislike?
Back in his bedroom, Harry fiddled aimlessly with his rucksack then poked a couple of owl nuts through the bats of Hedwig’s cage. They fell with dull thuds to the bottom where she ignored them.
“We’re leaving soon, really soon,” Harry told her. “And then you’ll be able to fly again.”
The doorbell rang. Harry hesitated, then headed back out of his room and downstairs. It was too much to expect Hestia and Dedalus to cope with the Dursleys on their own.
“Harry Potter!” squeaked an excited voice, the moment Harry had opened the door; a small man in a mauve top hat that was sweeping him a deep bow. “An honor as ever!”
“Thanks, Dedalus,” said Harry, bestowing a small and embarrassed smile upon the dark haired Hestia. “It’s really good of you to do this… They’re through here, my aunt and uncle and cousin…”
“Good day to you, Harry Potter’s relatives!” said Dedalus happily striding into the living room. The Dursleys did not look at all happy to be addressed thus; Harry half expected another change of mind. Dudley shrank neared to his mother at the sight of the witch and wizard.
“I see you are packed and ready. Excellent! The plan, as Harry has told you, is a simple one,” said Dedalus, pulling an immense pocket watch out of his waistcoat and examining it. “We shall be leaving before Harry does. Due to the danger of using magic in your house –Harry being still underage it could provide the Ministry with an excuse to arrest him – we shall be driving, say, ten miles or so before Disapparating to the safe location we have picked out for you. You know how to drive, I take it?” He asked Uncle Vernon politely.
“Know how to –? Of course I ruddy well know how to drive!” spluttered Uncle Vernon.
“Very clever of you, sir, very clever. I personally would be utterly bamboozled by all those buttons and knobs,” said Dedalus. He was clearly under the impression that he was flattering Vernon Dursley, who was visibly losing confidence in the plan with every word Dedalus spoke.
“Can’t even drive,” he muttered under his breath, his mustache rippling indignantly, but fortunately neither Dedalus nor Hestia seemed to hear him.
“You, Harry,” Dedalus continued, “will wait here for your guard. There has been a little change in the arrangements – ”
“What d’you mean?” said Harry at once. “I thought Mad-Eye was going to come and take me by Side Along-Apparition?”
“Can’t do it,” said Hestia tersely, “Mad-Eye will explain.”
The Dursleys, who had listened to all of this with looks of utter incomprehension on their faces, jumped as a loud voice screeched, “Hurry up!” Harry looked all around the room before realizing the voice had issued from Dedalus’s pocket watch.
“Quite right, were operating to a very tight schedule,” said Dedalus nodding at his watch and tucking it back into his waist coat. “We are attempting to time your departure from the house with your family’s Disapparition, Harry thus the charm breaks the moment you all head for safety.” He turned to the Dursleys, “Well, are we all packed and ready to go?”
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cheap uggs for sale said Uncle Vernon, pointing at the blank television screen. The Dursleys had spotted Kingsley on the news, walking along the Muggle Prime Minister as he visited a hospital. This, and the fact that Kingsley had mastered the knack of dressing like a Muggle, not to mention a certain reassuring something in his slow, deep voice, had caused the Dursleys to take to Kingsley in a way that they had certainly not done with any other wizard, although it was true that they had never seen him with earring in.
“Well, he’s taken,” said Harry. “But Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle are more than up to the job – ”
“If we’d even seen CVs…” began Uncle Vernon, but Harry lost patience. Getting to his feet, he advanced on his uncle, not pointing at the TV set himself.
“These accidents aren’t accidents – the crashed and explosions and derailments and whatever else has happened since we last watched the news. People are disappearing and dying and he’s behind it – Voldemort. I’ve told you this over and over again, he kills Muggles for fun. Even the fogs – they’re caused by dementors, and if you can’t remember what they are, ask your son!”
Dudley’s hands jerked upward to tower his mouth. With his parents’ and Harry’s eyes upon him, he slowly lowered them again and asked, “There are… more of them?”
“More?” laughed Harry. “More than the two that attacked us, you mean? Of course there are hundreds, maybe thousands by this time, seeing as they feed off fear and despair – ”
“All right, all right blustered,” blustered Vernon Dursley. “You’ve made your point – ”
“I hope so,” said Harry, “because once I’m seventeen, all of them – Death Eaters, elementors, maybe even Inferi – which means dead bodies enchanted by a Dark wizard – will be able to find you and will certainly attack you. And if you remember the last time you tried to outrun wizards, I think you’ll agree you need help.”
There was a brief silence in which the distant echo of Hagrid smashing down a wooden front door seemed to reverberate through the intervening years. Aunt Petunia was looking at Uncle Vernon; Dudley was staring at Harry. Finally Uncle Vernon blurted out, “But what about my work? What about Dudley’s school? I don’t suppose those things matter to a bunch of layabout wizards – ”
“Don’t you understand?” shouted Harry. “They will torture and kill you like they did my parents!”
“Dad,” said Dudley in a loud voice, “Dad – I’m going with these Order people.”
“Dudley,” said Harry, “for the first time in your life, you’re talking sense.” He knew the battle was won. If Dudley was frightened enough to accept the Order’s help, his parents would accompany him. There could be no question of being separated from their Duddykins. Harry glanced at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece.
“They’ll be here in about five minutes,” he said, and when one of the Dursleys replied, he left the room. The prospect of parting – probably forever – from his aunt, uncle, and cousin was one that he was able to contemplate quite cheerfully but there was nevertheless a certain awkwardness in the air. What did you say to one another at the end of sixteen years’ solid dislike?
Back in his bedroom, Harry fiddled aimlessly with his rucksack then poked a couple of owl nuts through the bats of Hedwig’s cage. They fell with dull thuds to the bottom where she ignored them.
“We’re leaving soon, really soon,” Harry told her. “And then you’ll be able to fly again.”
The doorbell rang. Harry hesitated, then headed back out of his room and downstairs. It was too much to expect Hestia and Dedalus to cope with the Dursleys on their own.
“Harry Potter!” squeaked an excited voice, the moment Harry had opened the door; a small man in a mauve top hat that was sweeping him a deep bow. “An honor as ever!”
“Thanks, Dedalus,” said Harry, bestowing a small and embarrassed smile upon the dark haired Hestia. “It’s really good of you to do this… They’re through here, my aunt and uncle and cousin…”
“Good day to you, Harry Potter’s relatives!” said Dedalus happily striding into the living room. The Dursleys did not look at all happy to be addressed thus; Harry half expected another change of mind. Dudley shrank neared to his mother at the sight of the witch and wizard.
“I see you are packed and ready. Excellent! The plan, as Harry has told you, is a simple one,” said Dedalus, pulling an immense pocket watch out of his waistcoat and examining it. “We shall be leaving before Harry does. Due to the danger of using magic in your house –Harry being still underage it could provide the Ministry with an excuse to arrest him – we shall be driving, say, ten miles or so before Disapparating to the safe location we have picked out for you. You know how to drive, I take it?” He asked Uncle Vernon politely.
“Know how to –? Of course I ruddy well know how to drive!” spluttered Uncle Vernon.
“Very clever of you, sir, very clever. I personally would be utterly bamboozled by all those buttons and knobs,” said Dedalus. He was clearly under the impression that he was flattering Vernon Dursley, who was visibly losing confidence in the plan with every word Dedalus spoke.
“Can’t even drive,” he muttered under his breath, his mustache rippling indignantly, but fortunately neither Dedalus nor Hestia seemed to hear him.
“You, Harry,” Dedalus continued, “will wait here for your guard. There has been a little change in the arrangements – ”
“What d’you mean?” said Harry at once. “I thought Mad-Eye was going to come and take me by Side Along-Apparition?”
“Can’t do it,” said Hestia tersely, “Mad-Eye will explain.”
The Dursleys, who had listened to all of this with looks of utter incomprehension on their faces, jumped as a loud voice screeched, “Hurry up!” Harry looked all around the room before realizing the voice had issued from Dedalus’s pocket watch.
“Quite right, were operating to a very tight schedule,” said Dedalus nodding at his watch and tucking it back into his waist coat. “We are attempting to time your departure from the house with your family’s Disapparition, Harry thus the charm breaks the moment you all head for safety.” He turned to the Dursleys, “Well, are we all packed and ready to go?”
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Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
A couple of the boys around him smirked
A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other. Harry was sure they were enjoying a private joke, undoubtedly about what they knew, or suspected, regarding their
gang leader's famous ancestor.
“Nonsense,” said Slughorn briskly, “couldn't be plainer you come from decent wizarding stock, abilities like yours. No, you'll go far, Tom, I've never been wrong
about a student yet.”
The small golden clock standing upon Slughorn's desk chimed eleven o'clock behind him and he looked around.
“Good gracious, is it that time already? You'd better get going boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by in morrow or it's detention. Same
goes for you, Avery.”
One by one, the boys filed out of the room. Slughorn heaved himself out of his armchair and carried his empty glass over to his desk. A movement behind him made him
look around; Riddle was still standing there.
“Look sharp, Tom, you don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you a prefect.. .”
“Sir, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away...”
“Sir, I wondered what you know about... about Horcruxes?”
Slughorn stared at him, his thick ringers absentmindedly clawing the stem of his wine glass.
“Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?”
But Harry could tell that Slughorn knew perfectly well that this was not schoolwork.
“Not exactly, sir,” said Riddle. “I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it.”
“No... well... you'd be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that'll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom, that's very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed,” said Slughorn.
“But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you—sorry, I mean, if you can't tell me, obviously—I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could
—so I just thought I'd ask—”
gang leader's famous ancestor.
“Nonsense,” said Slughorn briskly, “couldn't be plainer you come from decent wizarding stock, abilities like yours. No, you'll go far, Tom, I've never been wrong
about a student yet.”
The small golden clock standing upon Slughorn's desk chimed eleven o'clock behind him and he looked around.
“Good gracious, is it that time already? You'd better get going boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by in morrow or it's detention. Same
goes for you, Avery.”
One by one, the boys filed out of the room. Slughorn heaved himself out of his armchair and carried his empty glass over to his desk. A movement behind him made him
look around; Riddle was still standing there.
“Look sharp, Tom, you don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you a prefect.. .”
“Sir, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away...”
“Sir, I wondered what you know about... about Horcruxes?”
Slughorn stared at him, his thick ringers absentmindedly clawing the stem of his wine glass.
“Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?”
But Harry could tell that Slughorn knew perfectly well that this was not schoolwork.
“Not exactly, sir,” said Riddle. “I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it.”
“No... well... you'd be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that'll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom, that's very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed,” said Slughorn.
“But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you—sorry, I mean, if you can't tell me, obviously—I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could
—so I just thought I'd ask—”
“And now,” said Dumbledore
“And now,” said Dumbledore, placing the stone basin upon the desk and emptying the contents of the bottle into it. “Now, at last, we shall see. Harry, quickly...”
Harry bowed obediently over the Pensieve and felt his feet leave the office floor... once again he fell through darkness and landed in Horace Slughorn's office many
years before.
There was the much younger Slughorn, with his thick, shiny, straw-colored hair and his gingery-blond mustache, sitting again in the comfortable winged armchair in his
office, his feet resting upon a velvet pouffe, a small glass of wine in one hand, the other rummaging in a box of crystallized pineapple. And there were the half dozen
teenage boys sitting around Slughorn with Tom Riddle in the midst of them, Marvolo's gold-and-black ring gleaming on his finger.
Dumbledore landed beside Harry just as Riddle asked, “Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?”
“Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you,” said Slughorn, wagging his finger reprovingly at Riddle, though winking at the same time. “I must say, I'd like to know
where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are.”
Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.
“What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't, and your careful flattery of the people who matter—thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you're quite
right, it is my favorite —”
Several of the boys tittered again.
“— I confidently expect you to rise to Minister of Magic within twenty years. Fifteen, if you keep sending me pineapple, I have excellent contacts at the Ministry.”
Tom Riddle merely smiled as the others laughed again. Harry noticed that he was by no means the eldest of the group of boys, but that they all seemed to look to him as
their leader.
“I don't know that politics would suit me, sir,” he said when the laughter had died away. “I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing.”
Harry bowed obediently over the Pensieve and felt his feet leave the office floor... once again he fell through darkness and landed in Horace Slughorn's office many
years before.
There was the much younger Slughorn, with his thick, shiny, straw-colored hair and his gingery-blond mustache, sitting again in the comfortable winged armchair in his
office, his feet resting upon a velvet pouffe, a small glass of wine in one hand, the other rummaging in a box of crystallized pineapple. And there were the half dozen
teenage boys sitting around Slughorn with Tom Riddle in the midst of them, Marvolo's gold-and-black ring gleaming on his finger.
Dumbledore landed beside Harry just as Riddle asked, “Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?”
“Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you,” said Slughorn, wagging his finger reprovingly at Riddle, though winking at the same time. “I must say, I'd like to know
where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are.”
Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.
“What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't, and your careful flattery of the people who matter—thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you're quite
right, it is my favorite —”
Several of the boys tittered again.
“— I confidently expect you to rise to Minister of Magic within twenty years. Fifteen, if you keep sending me pineapple, I have excellent contacts at the Ministry.”
Tom Riddle merely smiled as the others laughed again. Harry noticed that he was by no means the eldest of the group of boys, but that they all seemed to look to him as
their leader.
“I don't know that politics would suit me, sir,” he said when the laughter had died away. “I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing.”
Chapter 23 Horcruxes
Chapter 23 Horcruxes
Harry could feel the Felix Felicis wearing off as he creeped back into the castle. The front door had remainedun locked for him, but on the third floor he met Peeves
and only narrowly avoided detection by diving sideways through one of his shortcuts. By the time he got up to the portrait of the Fat Lady and pulled off his
Invisibility Cloak, he was not surprised to find her in a most unhelpful mood.
“What sort of time do you call this?”
“I'm really sorry—I had to go out for something important—”
“Well, the password changed at midnight, so you'll just have to sleep in the corridor, won't you?”
“You're joking!” said Harry. “Why did it have to change at midnight?”
“That's the way it is,” said the Fat Lady. “If you're angry, go and take it up with the Headmaster, he's the one who's tightened security.”
“Fantastic,” said Harry bitterly, looking around at the hard floor. “Really brilliant. Yeah, I would go and take it up with Dumbledore if he was here, because he's
the one who wanted me to —”
“He is here,” said a voice behind Harry. “Professor Dumbledore returned to the school an hour ago.”
Nearly Headless Nick was gliding toward Harry, his head wobbling as usual upon his ruff.
“I had it from the Bloody Baron, who saw him arrive,” said Nick. “He appeared, according to the Baron, to be in good spirits, though a little tired, of course.”
“Where is he?” said Harry, his heart leaping.
“Oh, groaning and clanking up on the Astronomy Tower, it's a favorite pastime of his —”
“Not the Bloody Baron — Dumbledore!”
“Oh—in his office,” said Nick. “I believe, from what the Baron said, that he had business to attend to before turning in —”
“Yeah, he has,” said Harry, excitement blazing in his chest at the prospect of telling Dumbledore he had secured the memory. He wheeled about and sprinted off again,
ignoring the Fat Lady who was calling after him.
“Come back! All right, I lied! I was annoyed you woke me up! The password's still ‘tapeworm'!”
But Harry was already hurtling back along the corridor and within minutes, he was saying “toffee eclairs” to Dumbledore's gargoyle, which leapt aside, permitting
Harry entrance onto the spiral staircase.
“Enter,” said Dumbledore when Harry knocked. He sounded exhausted.
Harry pushed open the door. There was Dumbledore's office, looking the same as ever, but with black, star-strewn skies beyond the windows.
“Good gracious, Harry,” said Dumbledore in surprise. “To what do I owe this very late pleasure?”
“Sir—I've got it. I've got the memory from Slughorn.”
Harry pulled out the tiny glass bottle and showed it to Dumbledore. For a moment or two, the Headmaster looked stunned. Then his face split in a wide smile.
“Harry, this is spectacular news! Very well done indeed! I knew you could do it!”
All thought of the lateness of the hour apparently forgotten, he hurried around his desk, took the bottle with Slughorn's memory in his uninjured hand, and strode over
to the cabinet where he kept the Pensieve.
Harry could feel the Felix Felicis wearing off as he creeped back into the castle. The front door had remainedun locked for him, but on the third floor he met Peeves
and only narrowly avoided detection by diving sideways through one of his shortcuts. By the time he got up to the portrait of the Fat Lady and pulled off his
Invisibility Cloak, he was not surprised to find her in a most unhelpful mood.
“What sort of time do you call this?”
“I'm really sorry—I had to go out for something important—”
“Well, the password changed at midnight, so you'll just have to sleep in the corridor, won't you?”
“You're joking!” said Harry. “Why did it have to change at midnight?”
“That's the way it is,” said the Fat Lady. “If you're angry, go and take it up with the Headmaster, he's the one who's tightened security.”
“Fantastic,” said Harry bitterly, looking around at the hard floor. “Really brilliant. Yeah, I would go and take it up with Dumbledore if he was here, because he's
the one who wanted me to —”
“He is here,” said a voice behind Harry. “Professor Dumbledore returned to the school an hour ago.”
Nearly Headless Nick was gliding toward Harry, his head wobbling as usual upon his ruff.
“I had it from the Bloody Baron, who saw him arrive,” said Nick. “He appeared, according to the Baron, to be in good spirits, though a little tired, of course.”
“Where is he?” said Harry, his heart leaping.
“Oh, groaning and clanking up on the Astronomy Tower, it's a favorite pastime of his —”
“Not the Bloody Baron — Dumbledore!”
“Oh—in his office,” said Nick. “I believe, from what the Baron said, that he had business to attend to before turning in —”
“Yeah, he has,” said Harry, excitement blazing in his chest at the prospect of telling Dumbledore he had secured the memory. He wheeled about and sprinted off again,
ignoring the Fat Lady who was calling after him.
“Come back! All right, I lied! I was annoyed you woke me up! The password's still ‘tapeworm'!”
But Harry was already hurtling back along the corridor and within minutes, he was saying “toffee eclairs” to Dumbledore's gargoyle, which leapt aside, permitting
Harry entrance onto the spiral staircase.
“Enter,” said Dumbledore when Harry knocked. He sounded exhausted.
Harry pushed open the door. There was Dumbledore's office, looking the same as ever, but with black, star-strewn skies beyond the windows.
“Good gracious, Harry,” said Dumbledore in surprise. “To what do I owe this very late pleasure?”
“Sir—I've got it. I've got the memory from Slughorn.”
Harry pulled out the tiny glass bottle and showed it to Dumbledore. For a moment or two, the Headmaster looked stunned. Then his face split in a wide smile.
“Harry, this is spectacular news! Very well done indeed! I knew you could do it!”
All thought of the lateness of the hour apparently forgotten, he hurried around his desk, took the bottle with Slughorn's memory in his uninjured hand, and strode over
to the cabinet where he kept the Pensieve.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
He swilled the contents of the Pensieve
He swilled the contents of the Pensieve as Harry had seen him swill them before, much as a gold prospector sifts for gold. Up out of the swirling, silvery mass rose a
little old man revolving slowly in the Pensieve, silver as a ghost but much more solid, with a thatch of hair that completely covered his eyes.
“Yes, we acquired it in curious circumstances. It was brought in by a young witch just before Christmas, oh, many years ago now. She said she needed the gold badly,
well, that much was obvious. Covered in rags and pretty far along... going to have a baby, see. She said the locket had been Slytherin's. Well, we hear that sort of
story all the time, ‘Oh, this was Merlin's, this was, his favorite teapot,’ but when I looked at it, it had his mark all right, and a few simple spells were enough to
tell me the truth. Of course, that made it near enough priceless. She didn't seem to have any idea how much it was worth. Happy to get ten Galleons for it. Best bargain
we ever made!”
Dumbledore gave the Pensieve an extra-vigorous shake and Caractacus Burke descended back into the swirling mass of memory from whence he had come.
“He only gave her ten Galleons?” said Harry indignantly.
“Caractacus Burke was not famed for his generosity,” said Dumbledore. “So we know that, near the end of her pregnancy, Merope was alone in London and in desperate
need of gold, desperate enough to sell her one and only valuable possession, the locket that was one of Marvolo's treasured family heirlooms.”
“But she could do magic!” said Harry impatiently. “She could have got food and everything for herself by magic, couldn't she?”
“Ah,” said Dumbledore, “perhaps she could. But it is my belief—I am guessing again, but I am sure I am right—that when her husband abandoned her, Merope stopped
using magic. I do not think that she wanted to be a witch any longer. Of course, it is also possible that her unrequited love and the attendant despair sapped her of
her powers; that can happen. In any case, as you are about to see, Merope refused to raise her wand even to save her own life.”
“She wouldn't even stay alive for her son?”
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.
“Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?”
“No,” said Harry quickly, “but she had a choice, didn't she, not like my mother —”
“Your mother had a choice too,” said Dumbledore gently. “Yes, Merope Riddle chose death in spite of a son who needed her, but do not judge her too harshly, Harry.
little old man revolving slowly in the Pensieve, silver as a ghost but much more solid, with a thatch of hair that completely covered his eyes.
“Yes, we acquired it in curious circumstances. It was brought in by a young witch just before Christmas, oh, many years ago now. She said she needed the gold badly,
well, that much was obvious. Covered in rags and pretty far along... going to have a baby, see. She said the locket had been Slytherin's. Well, we hear that sort of
story all the time, ‘Oh, this was Merlin's, this was, his favorite teapot,’ but when I looked at it, it had his mark all right, and a few simple spells were enough to
tell me the truth. Of course, that made it near enough priceless. She didn't seem to have any idea how much it was worth. Happy to get ten Galleons for it. Best bargain
we ever made!”
Dumbledore gave the Pensieve an extra-vigorous shake and Caractacus Burke descended back into the swirling mass of memory from whence he had come.
“He only gave her ten Galleons?” said Harry indignantly.
“Caractacus Burke was not famed for his generosity,” said Dumbledore. “So we know that, near the end of her pregnancy, Merope was alone in London and in desperate
need of gold, desperate enough to sell her one and only valuable possession, the locket that was one of Marvolo's treasured family heirlooms.”
“But she could do magic!” said Harry impatiently. “She could have got food and everything for herself by magic, couldn't she?”
“Ah,” said Dumbledore, “perhaps she could. But it is my belief—I am guessing again, but I am sure I am right—that when her husband abandoned her, Merope stopped
using magic. I do not think that she wanted to be a witch any longer. Of course, it is also possible that her unrequited love and the attendant despair sapped her of
her powers; that can happen. In any case, as you are about to see, Merope refused to raise her wand even to save her own life.”
“She wouldn't even stay alive for her son?”
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.
“Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?”
“No,” said Harry quickly, “but she had a choice, didn't she, not like my mother —”
“Your mother had a choice too,” said Dumbledore gently. “Yes, Merope Riddle chose death in spite of a son who needed her, but do not judge her too harshly, Harry.
“Impertinent,” said a soft voice from
“Impertinent,” said a soft voice from one of the portraits on the wall, and Phineas Nigellus Black, Sirius's great-great-grandfather, raised his head from his arms
where he had appeared to be sleeping. “I would not have permitted a student to question the way Hogwarts operated in my day.”
“Yes, thank you, Phineas,” said Dumbledore quellingly. “Professor Snape knows much more about the Dark Arts than Madam Pomfrey, Harry. Anyway, the St. Mungo's staff
are sending me hourly reports, and I am hopeful that Katie will make a full recovery in time.”
“Where were you this weekend, sir?” Harry asked, disregarding a strong feeling that he might be pushing his luck, a feeling apparently shared by Phineas Nigellus, who
hissed softly.
“I would rather not say just now,” said Dumbledore. “However, I shall tell you in due course.”
“You will?” said Harry, startled.
“Yes, I expect so,” said Dumbledore, withdrawing a fresh bottle of silver memories from inside his robes and uncorking it with a prod of his wand.
“Sir,” said Harry tentatively, “I met Mundungus in Hogsmeade.”
“Ah yes, I am already aware that Mundungus has been treating your inheritance with light-fingered contempt,” said Dumbledore, frowning a little. “He has gone to
ground since you accosted him outside the Three Broomsticks; I rather think he dreads facing me. However, rest assured that he will not be making away with any more of
Sirius's old possessions.”
“That mangy old half-blood has been stealing Black heirlooms?” said Phineas Nigellus, incensed; and he stalked out of his frame, undoubtedly to visit his portrait in
number twelve, Grimmauld Place.
“Professor,” said Harry, after a short pause, “did Professor McGonagall tell you what I told her after Katie got hurt? About Draco Malfoy?”
“She told me of your suspicions, yes,” said Dumbledore.
“And do you—?”
“I shall take all appropriate measures to investigate anyone who might have had a hand in Katie's accident,” said Dumbledore. “But what concerns me now, Harry, is
our lesson.”
Harry felt slightly resentful at this: if their lessons were so very important, why had there been such a long gap between the first and second? However, he said no
more about Draco Malfoy, but watched as Dumbledore poured the fresh memories into the Pensieve and began swirling the stone basin once more between his long-fingered
hands.
“You will remember, I am sure, that we left the tale of Lord Voldemort's beginnings at the point where the handsome Muggle, Tom Riddle, had abandoned his witch wife,
Merope, and returned to his family home in Little Hangleton. Merope was left alone in London, expecting the baby who would one day become Lord Voldemort.”
“How do you know she was in London, sir?”
“Because of the evidence of one Caractacus Burke,” said Dumbledore, “who, by an odd coincidence, helped found the very shop whence came the necklace we have just
been discussing.”
where he had appeared to be sleeping. “I would not have permitted a student to question the way Hogwarts operated in my day.”
“Yes, thank you, Phineas,” said Dumbledore quellingly. “Professor Snape knows much more about the Dark Arts than Madam Pomfrey, Harry. Anyway, the St. Mungo's staff
are sending me hourly reports, and I am hopeful that Katie will make a full recovery in time.”
“Where were you this weekend, sir?” Harry asked, disregarding a strong feeling that he might be pushing his luck, a feeling apparently shared by Phineas Nigellus, who
hissed softly.
“I would rather not say just now,” said Dumbledore. “However, I shall tell you in due course.”
“You will?” said Harry, startled.
“Yes, I expect so,” said Dumbledore, withdrawing a fresh bottle of silver memories from inside his robes and uncorking it with a prod of his wand.
“Sir,” said Harry tentatively, “I met Mundungus in Hogsmeade.”
“Ah yes, I am already aware that Mundungus has been treating your inheritance with light-fingered contempt,” said Dumbledore, frowning a little. “He has gone to
ground since you accosted him outside the Three Broomsticks; I rather think he dreads facing me. However, rest assured that he will not be making away with any more of
Sirius's old possessions.”
“That mangy old half-blood has been stealing Black heirlooms?” said Phineas Nigellus, incensed; and he stalked out of his frame, undoubtedly to visit his portrait in
number twelve, Grimmauld Place.
“Professor,” said Harry, after a short pause, “did Professor McGonagall tell you what I told her after Katie got hurt? About Draco Malfoy?”
“She told me of your suspicions, yes,” said Dumbledore.
“And do you—?”
“I shall take all appropriate measures to investigate anyone who might have had a hand in Katie's accident,” said Dumbledore. “But what concerns me now, Harry, is
our lesson.”
Harry felt slightly resentful at this: if their lessons were so very important, why had there been such a long gap between the first and second? However, he said no
more about Draco Malfoy, but watched as Dumbledore poured the fresh memories into the Pensieve and began swirling the stone basin once more between his long-fingered
hands.
“You will remember, I am sure, that we left the tale of Lord Voldemort's beginnings at the point where the handsome Muggle, Tom Riddle, had abandoned his witch wife,
Merope, and returned to his family home in Little Hangleton. Merope was left alone in London, expecting the baby who would one day become Lord Voldemort.”
“How do you know she was in London, sir?”
“Because of the evidence of one Caractacus Burke,” said Dumbledore, “who, by an odd coincidence, helped found the very shop whence came the necklace we have just
been discussing.”
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
"No, thank you. We can manage very well now.
"No, thank you. We can manage very well now."
"Oh, well, then, I'll have a look at your cows, and if you'll allow me, I'll give directions about their food. Everything depends on their food."
And Levin, to turn the conversation, explained to Darya Alexandrovna the theory of cow-keeping, based on the principle that the cow is simply a machine for the transformation of food into milk, and so on.
He talked of this, and passionately longed to hear more of Kitty, and, at the same time, was afraid of hearing it. He dreaded the breaking up of the inward peace he had gained with such effort.
"Yes, but still all this has to be looked after, and who is there to look after it?" Darya Alexandrovna responded, without interest.
She had by now got her household matters so satisfactorily arranged, thanks to Marya Philimonovna, that she was disinclined to make any change in them; besides, she had no faith in Levin's knowledge of farming. General principles, as to the cow being a machine for the production of milk, she looked on with suspicion. It seemed to her that such principles could only be a hindrance in farm management. It all seemed to her a far simpler matter: all that was needed, as Marya Philimonovna had explained, was to give Brindle and Whitebreast more food and drink, and not to let the cook carry all the kitchen slops to the laundry maid's cow. That was clear. But general propositions as to feeding on meal and on grass were doubtful and obscure. And, what was most important, she wanted to talk about Kitty.
On the drive home, as Darya Alexandrovna, with all her children round her, their heads still wet from their bath, and a kerchief tied over her own head, was getting near the house, the coachman said, "There's some gentleman coming: the master of Pokrovskoe, I do believe."
"Oh, no!" said Dolly. "At first things were rather uncomfortable, but now we've settled everything capitally-- thanks to my old nurse," she said, indicating Marya Philimonovna, who, seeing that they were speaking of her, smiled brightly and cordially to Levin. She knew him, and knew that he would be a good match for her young lady, and was very keen to see the matter settled.
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"Oh, well, then, I'll have a look at your cows, and if you'll allow me, I'll give directions about their food. Everything depends on their food."
And Levin, to turn the conversation, explained to Darya Alexandrovna the theory of cow-keeping, based on the principle that the cow is simply a machine for the transformation of food into milk, and so on.
He talked of this, and passionately longed to hear more of Kitty, and, at the same time, was afraid of hearing it. He dreaded the breaking up of the inward peace he had gained with such effort.
"Yes, but still all this has to be looked after, and who is there to look after it?" Darya Alexandrovna responded, without interest.
She had by now got her household matters so satisfactorily arranged, thanks to Marya Philimonovna, that she was disinclined to make any change in them; besides, she had no faith in Levin's knowledge of farming. General principles, as to the cow being a machine for the production of milk, she looked on with suspicion. It seemed to her that such principles could only be a hindrance in farm management. It all seemed to her a far simpler matter: all that was needed, as Marya Philimonovna had explained, was to give Brindle and Whitebreast more food and drink, and not to let the cook carry all the kitchen slops to the laundry maid's cow. That was clear. But general propositions as to feeding on meal and on grass were doubtful and obscure. And, what was most important, she wanted to talk about Kitty.
On the drive home, as Darya Alexandrovna, with all her children round her, their heads still wet from their bath, and a kerchief tied over her own head, was getting near the house, the coachman said, "There's some gentleman coming: the master of Pokrovskoe, I do believe."
"Oh, no!" said Dolly. "At first things were rather uncomfortable, but now we've settled everything capitally-- thanks to my old nurse," she said, indicating Marya Philimonovna, who, seeing that they were speaking of her, smiled brightly and cordially to Levin. She knew him, and knew that he would be a good match for her young lady, and was very keen to see the matter settled.
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Monday, November 22, 2010
The third circle with which Anna had ties was preeminently
The third circle with which Anna had ties was preeminently the fashionable world--the world of balls, of dinners, of sumptuous dresses, the world that hung on to the court with one hand, so as to avoid sinking to the level of the demi-monde. For the demi-monde the members of that fashionable world believed that they despised, though their tastes were not merely similar, but in fact identical. Her connection with this circle was kept up through Princess Betsy Tverskaya, her cousin's wife, who had an income of a hundred and twenty thousand roubles, and who had taken a great fancy to Anna ever since she first came out, showed her much attention, and drew her into her set, making fun of Countess Kidia Ivanovna's coterie.
"When I'm old and ugly I'll be the same," Betsy used to say; "but for a pretty young woman like you it's early days for that house of charity."
Anna had at first avoided as far as she could Princess Tverskaya's world, because it necessitated an expenditure beyond her means, and besides in her heart she preferred the first circle. But since her visit to Moscow she had done quite the contrary. She avoided her serious-minded friends, and went out into the fashionable world. There she met Vronsky, and experienced an agitating joy at those meetings. She met Vronsky specially often at Betsy's for Betsy was a Vronsky by birth and his cousin. Vronsky was everywhere where he had any chance of meeting Anna, and speaking to her, when he could, of his love. She gave him no encouragement, but every time she met him there surged up in her heart that same feeling of quickened life that had come upon her that day in the railway carriage when she saw him for the first time. She was conscious herself that her delight sparkled in her eyes and curved her lips into a smile, and she could not quench the expression of this delight.
At first Anna sincerely believed that she was displeased with him for daring to pursue her. Soon after her return from Moscow, on arriving at a soiree where she had expected to meet him, and not finding him there, she realized distinctly from the rush of disappointment that she had been deceiving herself, and that this pursuit was not merely not distasteful to her, but that it made the whole interest of her life.
A celebrated singer was singing for the second time, and all the fashionable world was in the theater. Vronsky, seeing his cousin from his stall in the front row, did not wait till the entr'acte, but went to her box.
"Why didn't you come to dinner?" she said to him. "I marvel at the second sight of lovers," she added with a smile, so that no one but he could hear; "SHE WASN'T THERE. But come after the opera."
Vronsky looked inquiringly at her. She nodded. He thanked her by a smile, and sat down beside her.
"But how I remember your jeers!" continued Princess Betsy, who took a peculiar pleasure in following up this passion to a successful issue. "What's become of all that? You're caught, my dear boy."
"That's my one desire, to be caught," answered Vronsky, with his serene, good-humored smile. "If I complain of anything it's only that I'm not caught enough, to tell the truth. I begin to lose hope."
"Why, whatever hope can you have?" said Betsy, offended on behalf of her friend. "Enendons nous...." But in her eyes there were gleams of light that betrayed that she understood perfectly and precisely as he did what hope he might have.
"None whatever," said Vronsky, laughing and showing his even rows of teeth. "Excuse me," he added, taking an opera glass out of her hand, and proceeding to scrutinize, over her bare shoulder, the row of boxes facing them. "I'm afraid I'm becoming ridiculous."
He was very well aware that he ran no risk of being ridiculous in the eyes of Betsy or any other fashionable people. He was very well aware that in their eyes the position of an unsuccessful lover of a girl, or of any woman free to marry, might be ridiculous. But the position of a man pursuing a married woman, and, regardless of everything, staking his life on drawing her into adultery, has something fine and grand about it, and can never be ridiculous; and so it was with a proud and gay smile under his mustaches that he lowered the opera glass and looked at his cousin.
"But why was it you didn't come to dinner?" she said, admiring him.
"I must tell you about that. I was busily employed, and doing what, do you suppose? I'll give you a hundred guesses, a thousand...you'd never guess. I've been reconciling a husband with a man who'd insulted his wife. Yes, really!"
"Well, did you succeed?"
"Almost."
"You really must tell me about it," she said, getting up. "Come to me in the next entr'acte."
"I can't; I'm going to the French theater."
"From Nilsson?" Betsy queried in horror, though she could not herself have distinguished Nilsson's voice from any chorus girl's.
"Can't help it. I've an appointment there, all to do with my mission of peace."
" Blessed are the peacemakers; theirs is the kingdom of heaven,'" said Betsy, vaguely recollecting she had heard some similar saying from someone. "Very well, then, sit down, and tell me what it's all about."
And she sat down again.
"When I'm old and ugly I'll be the same," Betsy used to say; "but for a pretty young woman like you it's early days for that house of charity."
Anna had at first avoided as far as she could Princess Tverskaya's world, because it necessitated an expenditure beyond her means, and besides in her heart she preferred the first circle. But since her visit to Moscow she had done quite the contrary. She avoided her serious-minded friends, and went out into the fashionable world. There she met Vronsky, and experienced an agitating joy at those meetings. She met Vronsky specially often at Betsy's for Betsy was a Vronsky by birth and his cousin. Vronsky was everywhere where he had any chance of meeting Anna, and speaking to her, when he could, of his love. She gave him no encouragement, but every time she met him there surged up in her heart that same feeling of quickened life that had come upon her that day in the railway carriage when she saw him for the first time. She was conscious herself that her delight sparkled in her eyes and curved her lips into a smile, and she could not quench the expression of this delight.
At first Anna sincerely believed that she was displeased with him for daring to pursue her. Soon after her return from Moscow, on arriving at a soiree where she had expected to meet him, and not finding him there, she realized distinctly from the rush of disappointment that she had been deceiving herself, and that this pursuit was not merely not distasteful to her, but that it made the whole interest of her life.
A celebrated singer was singing for the second time, and all the fashionable world was in the theater. Vronsky, seeing his cousin from his stall in the front row, did not wait till the entr'acte, but went to her box.
"Why didn't you come to dinner?" she said to him. "I marvel at the second sight of lovers," she added with a smile, so that no one but he could hear; "SHE WASN'T THERE. But come after the opera."
Vronsky looked inquiringly at her. She nodded. He thanked her by a smile, and sat down beside her.
"But how I remember your jeers!" continued Princess Betsy, who took a peculiar pleasure in following up this passion to a successful issue. "What's become of all that? You're caught, my dear boy."
"That's my one desire, to be caught," answered Vronsky, with his serene, good-humored smile. "If I complain of anything it's only that I'm not caught enough, to tell the truth. I begin to lose hope."
"Why, whatever hope can you have?" said Betsy, offended on behalf of her friend. "Enendons nous...." But in her eyes there were gleams of light that betrayed that she understood perfectly and precisely as he did what hope he might have.
"None whatever," said Vronsky, laughing and showing his even rows of teeth. "Excuse me," he added, taking an opera glass out of her hand, and proceeding to scrutinize, over her bare shoulder, the row of boxes facing them. "I'm afraid I'm becoming ridiculous."
He was very well aware that he ran no risk of being ridiculous in the eyes of Betsy or any other fashionable people. He was very well aware that in their eyes the position of an unsuccessful lover of a girl, or of any woman free to marry, might be ridiculous. But the position of a man pursuing a married woman, and, regardless of everything, staking his life on drawing her into adultery, has something fine and grand about it, and can never be ridiculous; and so it was with a proud and gay smile under his mustaches that he lowered the opera glass and looked at his cousin.
"But why was it you didn't come to dinner?" she said, admiring him.
"I must tell you about that. I was busily employed, and doing what, do you suppose? I'll give you a hundred guesses, a thousand...you'd never guess. I've been reconciling a husband with a man who'd insulted his wife. Yes, really!"
"Well, did you succeed?"
"Almost."
"You really must tell me about it," she said, getting up. "Come to me in the next entr'acte."
"I can't; I'm going to the French theater."
"From Nilsson?" Betsy queried in horror, though she could not herself have distinguished Nilsson's voice from any chorus girl's.
"Can't help it. I've an appointment there, all to do with my mission of peace."
" Blessed are the peacemakers; theirs is the kingdom of heaven,'" said Betsy, vaguely recollecting she had heard some similar saying from someone. "Very well, then, sit down, and tell me what it's all about."
And she sat down again.
Chapter 38
Chapter 38
The highest Petersburg society is essentially one: in it everyone knows everyone else, everyone even visits everyone else. But this great set has its subdivisions. Anna Arkadyevna Karenina had friends and close ties in three different circles of this highest society. One circle was her husband's government official set, consisting of his colleagues and subordinates, brought together in the most various and capricious manner, and belonging to different social strata. Anna found it difficult now to recall the feeling of almost awe-stricken reverence which she had at first entertained for these persons. Now she knew all of them as people know one another in a country town; she knew their habits and weaknesses, and where the shoe pinched each one of them. She knew their relations with one another and with the head authorities, knew who was for whom, and how each one maintained his position, and where they agreed and disagreed. But the circle of political, masculine interests had never interested her, in spite of countess Kidia Ivanovna's influence, and she avoided it. Another little set with which Anna was in close relations was the one by means of which Alexey Alexandrovitch had made his career. The center of this circle was the Countess Lidia Ivanovna. It was a set made up of elderly, ugly, benevolent, and godly women, and clever, learned, and ambitious men. One of the clever people belonging to the set had called it "the conscience of Petersburg society." Alexey Alexandrovitch had the highest esteem for this circle, and Anna with her special gift for getting on with everyone, had in the early days of her life in Petersburg made friends in this circle also. Now, since her return from Moscow, she had come to feel this set insufferable. It seemed to her that both she and all of them were insincere, and she fell so bored and ill at ease in that world that she went to see the Countess Lidia Ivanovna as little as possible.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
‘Yeah,’ growled Moody. ‘About how he's treated when he's at your place.’
‘Yeah,’ growled Moody. ‘About how he's treated when he's at your place.’
Uncle Vernon's moustache seemed to bristle with indignation. Possibly because the bowler hat gave him the entirely mistaken impression that he was dealing with a kindred spirit, he addressed himself to Moody.
‘I am not aware that it is any of your business what goes on in my house—’
‘I expect what you're not aware of would fill several books, Dursley,’ growled Moody.
‘Anyway, that's not the point,’ interjected Tonks, whose pink hair seemed to offend Aunt Petunia more than all the rest put together, for she closed her eyes rather than look at her. ‘The point is, if we find out you've been horrible to Harry— ’
‘—And make no mistake, we'll hear about it,’ added Lupin pleasantly.
‘Yes,’ said Mr Weasley, ‘even if you won't let Harry use the felly-tone—’
‘Telephone,’ whispered Hermione.
‘—Yeah, if we get any hint that Potter's been mistreated in any way, you'll have us to answer to,’ said Moody.
Uncle Vernon swelled ominously. His sense of outrage seemed to outweigh even his fear of this bunch of oddballs.
‘Are you threatening me, sir?’ he said, so loudly that passers-by actually turned to stare.
‘Yes, I am,’ said Mad-Eye, who seemed rather pleased that Uncle Vernon had grasped this fact so quickly.
‘And do I look like the kind of man who can be intimidated?’ barked Uncle Vernon.
‘Well ...’ said Moody, pushing back his bowler hat to reveal his sinisterly revolving magical eye. Uncle Vernon leapt backwards in horror and collided painfully with a luggage trolley. ‘Yes, I'd have to say you do, Dursley.’
He turned away from Uncle Vernon to survey Harry.
‘So, Potter ... give us a shout if you need us. If we don't hear from you for three days in a row, we'll send someone along ...’
Aunt Petunia whimpered piteously. It could not have been plainer that she was thinking of what the neighbours would say if they caught sight of these people marching up the garden path.
‘Bye, then, Potter,’ said Moody, grasping Harry's shoulder for a moment with a gnarled hand.
‘Take care, Harry,’ said Lupin quietly. ‘Keep in touch.’
‘Harry, we'll have you away from there as soon as we can,’ Mrs. Weasley whispered, hugging him again.
‘We'll see you soon, mate,’ said Ron anxiously, shaking Harry's hand.
‘Really soon, Harry,’ said Hermione earnestly. ‘We promise.’
Harry nodded. He somehow could not find words to tell them what it meant to him, to see them all ranged there, on his side. Instead, he smiled, raised a hand in farewell, turned around and led the way out of the station towards the sunlit street, with Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley hurrying along in his wake.
Uncle Vernon's moustache seemed to bristle with indignation. Possibly because the bowler hat gave him the entirely mistaken impression that he was dealing with a kindred spirit, he addressed himself to Moody.
‘I am not aware that it is any of your business what goes on in my house—’
‘I expect what you're not aware of would fill several books, Dursley,’ growled Moody.
‘Anyway, that's not the point,’ interjected Tonks, whose pink hair seemed to offend Aunt Petunia more than all the rest put together, for she closed her eyes rather than look at her. ‘The point is, if we find out you've been horrible to Harry— ’
‘—And make no mistake, we'll hear about it,’ added Lupin pleasantly.
‘Yes,’ said Mr Weasley, ‘even if you won't let Harry use the felly-tone—’
‘Telephone,’ whispered Hermione.
‘—Yeah, if we get any hint that Potter's been mistreated in any way, you'll have us to answer to,’ said Moody.
Uncle Vernon swelled ominously. His sense of outrage seemed to outweigh even his fear of this bunch of oddballs.
‘Are you threatening me, sir?’ he said, so loudly that passers-by actually turned to stare.
‘Yes, I am,’ said Mad-Eye, who seemed rather pleased that Uncle Vernon had grasped this fact so quickly.
‘And do I look like the kind of man who can be intimidated?’ barked Uncle Vernon.
‘Well ...’ said Moody, pushing back his bowler hat to reveal his sinisterly revolving magical eye. Uncle Vernon leapt backwards in horror and collided painfully with a luggage trolley. ‘Yes, I'd have to say you do, Dursley.’
He turned away from Uncle Vernon to survey Harry.
‘So, Potter ... give us a shout if you need us. If we don't hear from you for three days in a row, we'll send someone along ...’
Aunt Petunia whimpered piteously. It could not have been plainer that she was thinking of what the neighbours would say if they caught sight of these people marching up the garden path.
‘Bye, then, Potter,’ said Moody, grasping Harry's shoulder for a moment with a gnarled hand.
‘Take care, Harry,’ said Lupin quietly. ‘Keep in touch.’
‘Harry, we'll have you away from there as soon as we can,’ Mrs. Weasley whispered, hugging him again.
‘We'll see you soon, mate,’ said Ron anxiously, shaking Harry's hand.
‘Really soon, Harry,’ said Hermione earnestly. ‘We promise.’
Harry nodded. He somehow could not find words to tell them what it meant to him, to see them all ranged there, on his side. Instead, he smiled, raised a hand in farewell, turned around and led the way out of the station towards the sunlit street, with Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley hurrying along in his wake.
There was Mad-Eye Moody,
There was Mad-Eye Moody, looking quite as sinister with his bowler hat pulled low over his magical eye as he would have done without it, his gnarled hands clutching a long staff, his body wrapped in a voluminous travelling cloak. Tonks stood just behind him, her bright bubble-gum-pink hair gleaming in the sunlight filtering through the dirty glass of the station ceiling, wearing heavily patched jeans and a bright purple T-shirt bearing the legend The Weird Sisters.Next to Tonks was Lupin, his face pale, his hair greying, a long and threadbare overcoat covering a shabby jumper and trousers. At the front of the group stood Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, dressed in their Muggle best, and Fred and George, who were both wearing brand-new jackets in some lurid green, scaly material.
‘Ron, Ginny!’ called Mrs. Weasley, hurrying forwards and hugging her children tightly. ‘Oh, and Harry dear—how are you?’
‘Fine,’ lied Harry, as she pulled him into a tight embrace. Over her shoulder he saw Ron goggling at the twins’ new clothes.
‘What are they supposed to be?’ he asked, pointing at the jackets.
‘Finest dragonskin, little bro',’ said Fred, giving his zip a little tweak. ‘Business is booming and we thought we'd treat ourselves.’
‘Hello, Harry,’ said Lupin, as Mrs. Weasley let go of Harry and turned to greet Hermione.
‘Hi,’ said Harry. ‘I didn't expect ... what are you all doing here?’
‘Well,’ said Lupin with a slight smile, ‘we thought we might have a little chat with your aunt and uncle before letting them take you home.’
‘I dunno if that's a good idea,’ said Harry at once.
‘Oh, I think it is,’ growled Moody, who had limped a little closer. ‘That'll be them, will it, Potter?’
He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder; his magical eye was evidently peering through the back of his head and his bowler hat. Harry leaned an inch or so to the left to see where Mad-Eye was pointing and there, sure enough, were the three Dursleys, who looked positively appalled to see Harry's reception committee.
‘Ah, Harry!’ said Mr. Weasley, turning from Hermione's parents, who he had just greeted enthusiastically, and who were now taking it in turns to hug Hermione. ‘Well— shall we do it, then?’
‘Yeah, I reckon so, Arthur,’ said Moody.
He and Mr. Weasley took the lead across the station towards the Dursleys, who were apparently rooted to the floor. Hermione disengaged herself gently from her mother to join the group.
‘Good afternoon,’ said Mr. Weasley pleasantly to Uncle Vernon as he came to a halt right in front of him. ‘You might remember me, my name's Arthur Weasley.’
As Mr. Weasley had single-handedly demolished most of the Dursleys’ living room two years previously, Harry would have been very surprised if Uncle Vernon had forgotten him. Sure enough, Uncle Vernon turned a deeper shade of puce and glared at Mr. Weasley, but chose not to say anything, partly, perhaps, because the Dursleys were outnumbered two to one. Aunt Petunia looked both frightened and embarrassed; she kept glancing around, as though terrified somebody she knew would see her in such company. Dudley, meanwhile, seemed to be trying to look small and insignificant, a feat at which he was failing extravagantly.
‘We thought we'd just have a few words with you about Harry,’ said Mr. Weasley, still smiling.
‘Ron, Ginny!’ called Mrs. Weasley, hurrying forwards and hugging her children tightly. ‘Oh, and Harry dear—how are you?’
‘Fine,’ lied Harry, as she pulled him into a tight embrace. Over her shoulder he saw Ron goggling at the twins’ new clothes.
‘What are they supposed to be?’ he asked, pointing at the jackets.
‘Finest dragonskin, little bro',’ said Fred, giving his zip a little tweak. ‘Business is booming and we thought we'd treat ourselves.’
‘Hello, Harry,’ said Lupin, as Mrs. Weasley let go of Harry and turned to greet Hermione.
‘Hi,’ said Harry. ‘I didn't expect ... what are you all doing here?’
‘Well,’ said Lupin with a slight smile, ‘we thought we might have a little chat with your aunt and uncle before letting them take you home.’
‘I dunno if that's a good idea,’ said Harry at once.
‘Oh, I think it is,’ growled Moody, who had limped a little closer. ‘That'll be them, will it, Potter?’
He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder; his magical eye was evidently peering through the back of his head and his bowler hat. Harry leaned an inch or so to the left to see where Mad-Eye was pointing and there, sure enough, were the three Dursleys, who looked positively appalled to see Harry's reception committee.
‘Ah, Harry!’ said Mr. Weasley, turning from Hermione's parents, who he had just greeted enthusiastically, and who were now taking it in turns to hug Hermione. ‘Well— shall we do it, then?’
‘Yeah, I reckon so, Arthur,’ said Moody.
He and Mr. Weasley took the lead across the station towards the Dursleys, who were apparently rooted to the floor. Hermione disengaged herself gently from her mother to join the group.
‘Good afternoon,’ said Mr. Weasley pleasantly to Uncle Vernon as he came to a halt right in front of him. ‘You might remember me, my name's Arthur Weasley.’
As Mr. Weasley had single-handedly demolished most of the Dursleys’ living room two years previously, Harry would have been very surprised if Uncle Vernon had forgotten him. Sure enough, Uncle Vernon turned a deeper shade of puce and glared at Mr. Weasley, but chose not to say anything, partly, perhaps, because the Dursleys were outnumbered two to one. Aunt Petunia looked both frightened and embarrassed; she kept glancing around, as though terrified somebody she knew would see her in such company. Dudley, meanwhile, seemed to be trying to look small and insignificant, a feat at which he was failing extravagantly.
‘We thought we'd just have a few words with you about Harry,’ said Mr. Weasley, still smiling.
‘Goyle's mum'll be really pleased, though,
‘Goyle's mum'll be really pleased, though,’ said Ron, who had come to investigate the source of the commotion. ‘He's loads better-looking now ... anyway, Harry, the food trolley's just stopped if you want anything ...’
Harry thanked the others and accompanied Ron back to their compartment, where he bought a large pile of cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties. Hermione was reading the Daily Prophet again, Ginny was doing a quiz in The Quibbler and Neville was stroking his Mimbulus mimbletonia, which had grown a great deal over the year and now made odd crooning noises when touched.
Harry and Ron whiled away most of the journey playing wizard chess while Hermione read out snippets from the Prophet.It was now full of articles about how to repel dementors, attempts by the Ministry to track down Death Eaters and hysterical letters claiming that the writer had seen Lord Voldemort walking past their house that very morning ...
‘It hasn't really started yet,’ sighed Hermione gloomily, folding up the newspaper again. ‘But it won't be long now ...’
‘Hey, Harry,’ said Ron softly, nodding towards the glass window on to the corridor.
Harry looked around. Cho was passing, accompanied by Marietta Edgecombe, who was wearing a balaclava. His and Cho's eyes met for a moment. Cho blushed and kept walking. Harry looked back down at the chessboard just in time to see one of his pawns chased off its square by Ron's knight.
‘What's—er— going on with you and her, anyway?’ Ron asked quietly.
‘Nothing,’ said Harry truthfully.
‘I—er—heard she's going out with someone else now,’ said Hermione tentatively.
Harry was surprised to find that this information did not hurt at all. Wanting to impress Cho seemed to belong to a past that was no longer quite connected with him; so much of what he had wanted before Sirius's death felt that way these days ... the week that had elapsed since he had last seen Sirius seemed to have lasted much, much longer; it stretched across two universes, the one with Sirius in it, and the one without.
‘You're well out of it, mate,’ said Ron forcefully. ‘I mean, she's quite good-looking and all that, but you want someone a bit more cheerful.’
‘She's probably cheerful enough with someone else,’ said Harry, shrugging.
‘Who's she with now, anyway?’ Ron asked Hermione, but it was Ginny who answered.
‘Michael Corner,’ she said.
‘Michael—but— ’ said Ron, craning around in his seat to state at her. ‘But you were going out with him!’
‘Not any more,’ said Ginny resolutely. ‘He didn't like Gryffindor beating Ravenclaw at Quidditch, and got really sulky, so I ditched him and he ran off to comfort Cho instead.’ She scratched her nose absently with the end of her quill, turned The Quibbler upside-down and began marking her answers. Ron looked highly delighted.
‘Well, I always thought he was a bit of an idiot,’ he said, prodding his queen forwards towards Harry's quivering castle. ‘Good for you. Just choose someone—better—next time.’
He cast Harry an oddly furtive look as he said it.
‘Well, I've chosen Dean Thomas, would you say he's better?’ asked Ginny vaguely.
‘WHAT?’ shouted Ron, upending the chessboard. Crookshanks went plunging after the pieces and Hedwig and Pigwidgeon twittered and hooted angrily from overhead.
As the train slowed down in the approach to King's Cross, Harry thought he had never wanted to leave it less. He even wondered fleetingly what would happen if he simply refused to get off, but remained stubbornly sitting there until the first of September, when it would take him back to Hogwarts. When it finally puffed to a standstill, however, he lifted down Hedwig's cage and prepared to drag his trunk from the train as usual.
When the ticket inspector signalled to Harry, Ron and Hermione that it was safe to walk through the magical barrier between platforms nine and ten, however, he found a surprise awaiting him on the other side: a group of people standing there to greet him who he had not expected at all.
Harry thanked the others and accompanied Ron back to their compartment, where he bought a large pile of cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties. Hermione was reading the Daily Prophet again, Ginny was doing a quiz in The Quibbler and Neville was stroking his Mimbulus mimbletonia, which had grown a great deal over the year and now made odd crooning noises when touched.
Harry and Ron whiled away most of the journey playing wizard chess while Hermione read out snippets from the Prophet.It was now full of articles about how to repel dementors, attempts by the Ministry to track down Death Eaters and hysterical letters claiming that the writer had seen Lord Voldemort walking past their house that very morning ...
‘It hasn't really started yet,’ sighed Hermione gloomily, folding up the newspaper again. ‘But it won't be long now ...’
‘Hey, Harry,’ said Ron softly, nodding towards the glass window on to the corridor.
Harry looked around. Cho was passing, accompanied by Marietta Edgecombe, who was wearing a balaclava. His and Cho's eyes met for a moment. Cho blushed and kept walking. Harry looked back down at the chessboard just in time to see one of his pawns chased off its square by Ron's knight.
‘What's—er— going on with you and her, anyway?’ Ron asked quietly.
‘Nothing,’ said Harry truthfully.
‘I—er—heard she's going out with someone else now,’ said Hermione tentatively.
Harry was surprised to find that this information did not hurt at all. Wanting to impress Cho seemed to belong to a past that was no longer quite connected with him; so much of what he had wanted before Sirius's death felt that way these days ... the week that had elapsed since he had last seen Sirius seemed to have lasted much, much longer; it stretched across two universes, the one with Sirius in it, and the one without.
‘You're well out of it, mate,’ said Ron forcefully. ‘I mean, she's quite good-looking and all that, but you want someone a bit more cheerful.’
‘She's probably cheerful enough with someone else,’ said Harry, shrugging.
‘Who's she with now, anyway?’ Ron asked Hermione, but it was Ginny who answered.
‘Michael Corner,’ she said.
‘Michael—but— ’ said Ron, craning around in his seat to state at her. ‘But you were going out with him!’
‘Not any more,’ said Ginny resolutely. ‘He didn't like Gryffindor beating Ravenclaw at Quidditch, and got really sulky, so I ditched him and he ran off to comfort Cho instead.’ She scratched her nose absently with the end of her quill, turned The Quibbler upside-down and began marking her answers. Ron looked highly delighted.
‘Well, I always thought he was a bit of an idiot,’ he said, prodding his queen forwards towards Harry's quivering castle. ‘Good for you. Just choose someone—better—next time.’
He cast Harry an oddly furtive look as he said it.
‘Well, I've chosen Dean Thomas, would you say he's better?’ asked Ginny vaguely.
‘WHAT?’ shouted Ron, upending the chessboard. Crookshanks went plunging after the pieces and Hedwig and Pigwidgeon twittered and hooted angrily from overhead.
As the train slowed down in the approach to King's Cross, Harry thought he had never wanted to leave it less. He even wondered fleetingly what would happen if he simply refused to get off, but remained stubbornly sitting there until the first of September, when it would take him back to Hogwarts. When it finally puffed to a standstill, however, he lifted down Hedwig's cage and prepared to drag his trunk from the train as usual.
When the ticket inspector signalled to Harry, Ron and Hermione that it was safe to walk through the magical barrier between platforms nine and ten, however, he found a surprise awaiting him on the other side: a group of people standing there to greet him who he had not expected at all.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Chapter 30 Grawp
Chapter 30 Grawp
The story of Fred and George's flight to freedom was retold so often over the next few days that Harry could tell it would soon become the stuff of Hogwart's legend: within a week, even those who had been eye-witnesses were half-convinced they had seen the twins dive-bomb Umbridge on their brooms and pelt her with Dungbombs before zooming out of the doors. In the immediate aftermath of their departure there was a great wave of talk about copying them. Harry frequently heard students saying things like, ‘Honestly, some days I just feel like jumping on my broom and leaving this place,’ or else, ‘One more lesson like that and I might just do a Weasley.’
Fred and George had made sure nobody was likely to forget them too soon. For one thing, they had not left instructions on how to remove the swamp that now filled the corridor on the fifth floor of the east wing. Umbridge and Filch had been observed trying different means of removing it but without success. Eventually, the area was roped off and Filch, gnashing his teeth furiously, was given the task of punting students across it to their classrooms. Harry was certain that teachers like McGonagall or Flitwick could have removed the swamp in an instant but, just as in the case of Fred and George's Wildfire Whiz-bangs, they seemed to prefer to watch Umbridge struggle.
Then there were the two large broom-shaped holes in Umbridge's office door, through which Fred and George's Cleansweeps had smashed to rejoin their masters. Filch fitted a new door and removed Harry's Firebolt to the dungeons where, it was rumoured, Umbridge had set an armed security troll to guard it. However, her troubles were far from over.
Inspired by Fred and George's example, a great number of students were now vying for the newly vacant positions of Troublemakers-in-Chief. In spite of the new door, somebody managed to slip a hairy-snouted Niffler into Umbridge's office, which promptly tore the place apart in its search for shiny objects, leapt on Umbridge when she entered and tried to gnaw the rings off her stubby fingers. Dungbombs and Stink Pellets were dropped so frequently in the corridors that it became the new fashion for students to perform Bubble-Head Charms on themselves before leaving lessons, which ensured them a supply of fresh air, even though it gave them all the peculiar appearance of wearing upside-down goldfish bowls on their heads.
Filch prowled the corridors with a horsewhip ready in his hands, desperate to catch miscreants, but the problem was that there were now so many of them he never knew which way to turn. The Inquisitorial Squad was attempting to help him, but odd things kept happening to its members. Warrington of the Slytherin Quidditch team reported to the hospital wing with a horrible skin complaint that made him look as though he had been coated in cornflakes; Pansy Parkinson, to Hermione's delight, missed all her lessons the following day as she had sprouted antlers.
Meanwhile, it became clear just how many Skiving Snackboxes Fred and George had managed to sell before leaving Hogwarts. Umbridge only had to enter her classroom for the students assembled there to faint, vomit, develop dangerous fevers or else spout blood from both nostrils. Shrieking with rage and frustration, she attempted to trace the mysterious symptoms to their source, but the students told her stubbornly they were suffering from ‘Umbridge—itis'. After putting four successive classes in detention and failing to discover their secret, she was forced to give up and allow the bleeding, swooning, sweating and vomiting students to leave her classes in droves.
The story of Fred and George's flight to freedom was retold so often over the next few days that Harry could tell it would soon become the stuff of Hogwart's legend: within a week, even those who had been eye-witnesses were half-convinced they had seen the twins dive-bomb Umbridge on their brooms and pelt her with Dungbombs before zooming out of the doors. In the immediate aftermath of their departure there was a great wave of talk about copying them. Harry frequently heard students saying things like, ‘Honestly, some days I just feel like jumping on my broom and leaving this place,’ or else, ‘One more lesson like that and I might just do a Weasley.’
Fred and George had made sure nobody was likely to forget them too soon. For one thing, they had not left instructions on how to remove the swamp that now filled the corridor on the fifth floor of the east wing. Umbridge and Filch had been observed trying different means of removing it but without success. Eventually, the area was roped off and Filch, gnashing his teeth furiously, was given the task of punting students across it to their classrooms. Harry was certain that teachers like McGonagall or Flitwick could have removed the swamp in an instant but, just as in the case of Fred and George's Wildfire Whiz-bangs, they seemed to prefer to watch Umbridge struggle.
Then there were the two large broom-shaped holes in Umbridge's office door, through which Fred and George's Cleansweeps had smashed to rejoin their masters. Filch fitted a new door and removed Harry's Firebolt to the dungeons where, it was rumoured, Umbridge had set an armed security troll to guard it. However, her troubles were far from over.
Inspired by Fred and George's example, a great number of students were now vying for the newly vacant positions of Troublemakers-in-Chief. In spite of the new door, somebody managed to slip a hairy-snouted Niffler into Umbridge's office, which promptly tore the place apart in its search for shiny objects, leapt on Umbridge when she entered and tried to gnaw the rings off her stubby fingers. Dungbombs and Stink Pellets were dropped so frequently in the corridors that it became the new fashion for students to perform Bubble-Head Charms on themselves before leaving lessons, which ensured them a supply of fresh air, even though it gave them all the peculiar appearance of wearing upside-down goldfish bowls on their heads.
Filch prowled the corridors with a horsewhip ready in his hands, desperate to catch miscreants, but the problem was that there were now so many of them he never knew which way to turn. The Inquisitorial Squad was attempting to help him, but odd things kept happening to its members. Warrington of the Slytherin Quidditch team reported to the hospital wing with a horrible skin complaint that made him look as though he had been coated in cornflakes; Pansy Parkinson, to Hermione's delight, missed all her lessons the following day as she had sprouted antlers.
Meanwhile, it became clear just how many Skiving Snackboxes Fred and George had managed to sell before leaving Hogwarts. Umbridge only had to enter her classroom for the students assembled there to faint, vomit, develop dangerous fevers or else spout blood from both nostrils. Shrieking with rage and frustration, she attempted to trace the mysterious symptoms to their source, but the students told her stubbornly they were suffering from ‘Umbridge—itis'. After putting four successive classes in detention and failing to discover their secret, she was forced to give up and allow the bleeding, swooning, sweating and vomiting students to leave her classes in droves.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
The twins and Ginny were staring at him
The twins and Ginny were staring at him. Kreacher's footsteps had stopped on the stairs outside.
‘It was—’ Harry began; this was even worse than telling McGonagall and Dumbledore. ‘I had a—a kind of—vision ...’
And he told them all that he had seen, though he altered the story so that it sounded as though he had watched from the sidelines as the snake attacked, rather than from behind the snake's own eyes. Ron, who was still very
white, gave him a fleeting look, but did not speak. When Harry had finished, Fred, George and Ginny continued to stare at him for a moment. Harry did not know whether he was imagining it or not, but he fancied there was
something accusatory in their looks. Well, if they were going to blame him just for seeing the attack, he was glad he had not told them that he had been inside the snake at the time.
‘Is Mum here?’ said Fred, turning to Sirius.
‘She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet,’ said Sirius. ‘The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore's letting Molly know now.’
‘We've got to go to St. Mungos,’ said Ginny urgently, She looked around at her brothers; they were of course still in their pyjamas. ‘Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything?’
‘Hang on, you can't go tearing off to St. Mungo's!’ said Sirius.
‘Course we can go to St. Mungo's if we want,’ said Fred, with a mulish expression. ‘He's our dad!’
‘And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?’
‘What does that matter?’ said George hotly.
‘It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!’ said Sirius angrily. ‘Have you any idea what the Ministry would make off that
information?’
Fred and George looked as though they could not care less what the Ministry made of anything. Ron was still ashen-faced and silent.
Ginny said, ‘Somebody else could have told us ... we could have heard it somewhere other than Harry.’
‘Like who?’ said Sirius impatiently. ‘Listen, your dad's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage
the Order's—’
‘We don't care about the dumb Order!’ shouted Fred.
‘It's our dad dying we're talking about!’ yelled George.
‘Your father knew what he was getting into and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order!’ said Sirius, equally angry. ‘This is how it is—this is why you're not in the Order—you don't understand—there are things
worth dying for!’
‘Easy for you to say, stuck here!’ bellowed Fred. ‘I don't see you risking your neck!’
The little colour remaining in Sirius's face drained from it. He looked for a moment as though he would quite like to hit Fred, but when he spoke, it was in a voice of determined calm.
‘I know it's hard, but we've all got to act as though we don't know anything yet. We've got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?’
Fred and George still looked mutinous. Ginny, however, took a few steps over to the nearest chair and sank into it. Harry looked at Ron, who made a funny movement somewhere between a nod and a shrug, and they sat
down too. The twins glared at Sirius for another minute, then took seats either side of Ginny.
‘That's right,’ said Sirius encouragingly, ‘come on, lets all ... let's all have a drink while we're waiting. Accio Butterbeer!’
He raised his wand as he spoke and half a dozen bottles came flying towards them out of the pantry, skidded along the table, scattering the debris of Sirius's meal, and stopped neatly in front of the six of them. They all drank,
and for a while the only sounds were those of the crackling of the kitchen fire and the soft thud of their bottles on the table.
Harry was only drinking to have something to do with his hands. His stomach was full of horrible hot, bubbling guilt. They would not be here if it were not for him; they would all still be asleep in bed. And it was no good telling
himself that by raising the alarm he had ensured that Mr. Weasley was found, because there was also the inescapable business of it being he who had attacked Mr. Weasley in the first place.
Don't be stupid, you haven't got fangs, he told himself, trying to keep calm, though the hand on his Butterbeer bottle was shaking, you were lying in bed, you weren't attacking anyone ...
But then, what just happened in Dumbledore's office? he asked himself. I felt like I wanted to attack Dumbledore, too ...
He put the bottle down a little harder than he meant to, and it slopped over on to the table. No one took any notice. Then a burst of fire in midair illuminated the dirty plates in front of them and, as they gave cries of shock, a
scroll of parchment fell with a thud on to the table, accompanied by a single golden phoenix tail feather.
‘Fawkes!’ said Sirius at once, snatching up the parchment. ‘That's not Dumbledore's writing— it must be a message from your mother—here—’
He thrust the letter into George's hand, who ripped it open and read aloud: ‘Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St. Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum.’
George looked around the table.
‘Still alive ...’ he said slowly. ‘But that makes it sound ...’
He did not need to finish the sentence. It sounded to Harry, too, as though Mr. Weasley was hovering somewhere between life and death. Still exceptionally pale, Ron stared at the back of his mother's letter as though it might
speak words of comfort to him. Fred pulled the parchment out of George's hands and read it for himself, then looked up at Harry, who felt his hand shaking on his Butterbeer bottle again and clenched it more tightly to stop
the trembling.
If Harry had ever sat through a longer night than this one, he could not remember it. Sirius suggested once, without any real conviction, that they all go to bed, but the Weasleys’ looks of disgust were answer enough. They
mostly sat in silence around the table, watching the candle wick sinking lower and lower into liquid wax, occasionally raising a bottle to their lips, speaking only to check the time, to wonder aloud what was happening, and to
reassure each other that if there was bad news, they would know straightaway, for Mrs. Weasley must long since have arrived at St. Mungo's.
Fred fell into a doze, his head lolling sideways on to his shoulder. Ginny was curled like a cat on her chair, but her eyes were open; Harry could see them reflecting the firelight. Ron was sitting with his head in his hands,
whether awake or asleep it was impossible to tell. Harry and Sirius looked at each other every so often, intruders upon the family grief, waiting ... waiting ...
At ten past five in the morning by Ron's watch, the kitchen door swung open and Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen. She was extremely pale, but when they all turned to look at her, Fred, Ron and Harry half rising from their
chairs, she gave a wan smile.
‘He's going to be all right,’ she said, her voice weak with tiredness. ‘He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now; he's going to take the morning off work.’
Fred fell back into his chair with his hands over his face. George and Ginny got up, walked swiftly over to their mother and hugged her. Ron gave a very shaky laugh and downed the rest of his Butterbeer in one.
‘Breakfast!’ said Sirius loudly and joyfully, jumping to his feet. ‘Where's that accursed house-elf? Kreacher! KREACHER!’
But Kreacher did not answer the summons.
‘Oh, forget it, then,’ muttered Sirius, counting the people in front of him. ‘So, it's breakfast for—let's see—seven ... bacon and eggs, I think, and some tea, and toast—’
Harry hurried over to the stove to help. He did not want to intrude on the Weasleys’ happiness and he dreaded the moment when Mrs. Weasley would ask him to recount his vision. However, he had barely taken plates from
the dresser when Mrs Weasley lifted them out of his hands and pulled him into a hug.
‘I don't know what would have happened if it hadn't been for you, Harry’ she said in a muffled voice. ‘They might not have found Arthur for hours, and then it would have been too late, but thanks to you he's alive and
Dumbledore's been able to think up a good cover story for Arthur being where he was, you've no idea what trouble he would have been in otherwise, look at poor Sturgis ...’
Harry could hardly bear her gratitude, but fortunately she soon released him to turn to Sirius and thank him for looking after her children through the night. Sirius said he was very pleased to have been able to help, and
hoped they would all stay with him as long as Mr. Weasley was in hospital.
‘Oh, Sirius, I'm so grateful ... they think he'll be there a little while and it would be wonderful to be nearer ... of course, that might mean we're here for Christmas.’
‘The more the merrier!’ said Sirius with such obvious sincerity that Mrs. Weasley beamed at him, threw on an apron and began to help with breakfast.
‘Sirius,’ Harry muttered, unable to stand it a moment longer. ‘Can I have a quick word? Er— now?’
He walked into the dark pantry and Sirius followed. Without preamble, Harry told his godfather every detail of the vision he had had, including the fact that he himself had been the snake who had attacked Mr. Weasley.
When he paused for breath, Sirius said, ‘Did you tell Dumbledore this?’
‘Yes,’ said Harry impatiently,’ but he didn't tell me what it meant. Well, he doesn't tell me anything any more.’
‘I ‘m sure he would have told you if it was anything to worry about,’ said Sirius steadily.
‘But that's not all,’ said Harry, in a voice only a little above a whisper. ‘Sirius, I ... I think I'm going mad. Back in Dumbledore's office, just before we took the Portkey ... for a couple of seconds there I thought I was a snake, I felt
like one—my scar really hurt when I was looking at Dumbledore—Sirius, I wanted to attack him!’
He could only see a sliver of Sirius's face; the rest was in darkness.
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‘It was—’ Harry began; this was even worse than telling McGonagall and Dumbledore. ‘I had a—a kind of—vision ...’
And he told them all that he had seen, though he altered the story so that it sounded as though he had watched from the sidelines as the snake attacked, rather than from behind the snake's own eyes. Ron, who was still very
white, gave him a fleeting look, but did not speak. When Harry had finished, Fred, George and Ginny continued to stare at him for a moment. Harry did not know whether he was imagining it or not, but he fancied there was
something accusatory in their looks. Well, if they were going to blame him just for seeing the attack, he was glad he had not told them that he had been inside the snake at the time.
‘Is Mum here?’ said Fred, turning to Sirius.
‘She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet,’ said Sirius. ‘The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore's letting Molly know now.’
‘We've got to go to St. Mungos,’ said Ginny urgently, She looked around at her brothers; they were of course still in their pyjamas. ‘Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything?’
‘Hang on, you can't go tearing off to St. Mungo's!’ said Sirius.
‘Course we can go to St. Mungo's if we want,’ said Fred, with a mulish expression. ‘He's our dad!’
‘And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?’
‘What does that matter?’ said George hotly.
‘It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!’ said Sirius angrily. ‘Have you any idea what the Ministry would make off that
information?’
Fred and George looked as though they could not care less what the Ministry made of anything. Ron was still ashen-faced and silent.
Ginny said, ‘Somebody else could have told us ... we could have heard it somewhere other than Harry.’
‘Like who?’ said Sirius impatiently. ‘Listen, your dad's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage
the Order's—’
‘We don't care about the dumb Order!’ shouted Fred.
‘It's our dad dying we're talking about!’ yelled George.
‘Your father knew what he was getting into and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order!’ said Sirius, equally angry. ‘This is how it is—this is why you're not in the Order—you don't understand—there are things
worth dying for!’
‘Easy for you to say, stuck here!’ bellowed Fred. ‘I don't see you risking your neck!’
The little colour remaining in Sirius's face drained from it. He looked for a moment as though he would quite like to hit Fred, but when he spoke, it was in a voice of determined calm.
‘I know it's hard, but we've all got to act as though we don't know anything yet. We've got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?’
Fred and George still looked mutinous. Ginny, however, took a few steps over to the nearest chair and sank into it. Harry looked at Ron, who made a funny movement somewhere between a nod and a shrug, and they sat
down too. The twins glared at Sirius for another minute, then took seats either side of Ginny.
‘That's right,’ said Sirius encouragingly, ‘come on, lets all ... let's all have a drink while we're waiting. Accio Butterbeer!’
He raised his wand as he spoke and half a dozen bottles came flying towards them out of the pantry, skidded along the table, scattering the debris of Sirius's meal, and stopped neatly in front of the six of them. They all drank,
and for a while the only sounds were those of the crackling of the kitchen fire and the soft thud of their bottles on the table.
Harry was only drinking to have something to do with his hands. His stomach was full of horrible hot, bubbling guilt. They would not be here if it were not for him; they would all still be asleep in bed. And it was no good telling
himself that by raising the alarm he had ensured that Mr. Weasley was found, because there was also the inescapable business of it being he who had attacked Mr. Weasley in the first place.
Don't be stupid, you haven't got fangs, he told himself, trying to keep calm, though the hand on his Butterbeer bottle was shaking, you were lying in bed, you weren't attacking anyone ...
But then, what just happened in Dumbledore's office? he asked himself. I felt like I wanted to attack Dumbledore, too ...
He put the bottle down a little harder than he meant to, and it slopped over on to the table. No one took any notice. Then a burst of fire in midair illuminated the dirty plates in front of them and, as they gave cries of shock, a
scroll of parchment fell with a thud on to the table, accompanied by a single golden phoenix tail feather.
‘Fawkes!’ said Sirius at once, snatching up the parchment. ‘That's not Dumbledore's writing— it must be a message from your mother—here—’
He thrust the letter into George's hand, who ripped it open and read aloud: ‘Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St. Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum.’
George looked around the table.
‘Still alive ...’ he said slowly. ‘But that makes it sound ...’
He did not need to finish the sentence. It sounded to Harry, too, as though Mr. Weasley was hovering somewhere between life and death. Still exceptionally pale, Ron stared at the back of his mother's letter as though it might
speak words of comfort to him. Fred pulled the parchment out of George's hands and read it for himself, then looked up at Harry, who felt his hand shaking on his Butterbeer bottle again and clenched it more tightly to stop
the trembling.
If Harry had ever sat through a longer night than this one, he could not remember it. Sirius suggested once, without any real conviction, that they all go to bed, but the Weasleys’ looks of disgust were answer enough. They
mostly sat in silence around the table, watching the candle wick sinking lower and lower into liquid wax, occasionally raising a bottle to their lips, speaking only to check the time, to wonder aloud what was happening, and to
reassure each other that if there was bad news, they would know straightaway, for Mrs. Weasley must long since have arrived at St. Mungo's.
Fred fell into a doze, his head lolling sideways on to his shoulder. Ginny was curled like a cat on her chair, but her eyes were open; Harry could see them reflecting the firelight. Ron was sitting with his head in his hands,
whether awake or asleep it was impossible to tell. Harry and Sirius looked at each other every so often, intruders upon the family grief, waiting ... waiting ...
At ten past five in the morning by Ron's watch, the kitchen door swung open and Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen. She was extremely pale, but when they all turned to look at her, Fred, Ron and Harry half rising from their
chairs, she gave a wan smile.
‘He's going to be all right,’ she said, her voice weak with tiredness. ‘He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now; he's going to take the morning off work.’
Fred fell back into his chair with his hands over his face. George and Ginny got up, walked swiftly over to their mother and hugged her. Ron gave a very shaky laugh and downed the rest of his Butterbeer in one.
‘Breakfast!’ said Sirius loudly and joyfully, jumping to his feet. ‘Where's that accursed house-elf? Kreacher! KREACHER!’
But Kreacher did not answer the summons.
‘Oh, forget it, then,’ muttered Sirius, counting the people in front of him. ‘So, it's breakfast for—let's see—seven ... bacon and eggs, I think, and some tea, and toast—’
Harry hurried over to the stove to help. He did not want to intrude on the Weasleys’ happiness and he dreaded the moment when Mrs. Weasley would ask him to recount his vision. However, he had barely taken plates from
the dresser when Mrs Weasley lifted them out of his hands and pulled him into a hug.
‘I don't know what would have happened if it hadn't been for you, Harry’ she said in a muffled voice. ‘They might not have found Arthur for hours, and then it would have been too late, but thanks to you he's alive and
Dumbledore's been able to think up a good cover story for Arthur being where he was, you've no idea what trouble he would have been in otherwise, look at poor Sturgis ...’
Harry could hardly bear her gratitude, but fortunately she soon released him to turn to Sirius and thank him for looking after her children through the night. Sirius said he was very pleased to have been able to help, and
hoped they would all stay with him as long as Mr. Weasley was in hospital.
‘Oh, Sirius, I'm so grateful ... they think he'll be there a little while and it would be wonderful to be nearer ... of course, that might mean we're here for Christmas.’
‘The more the merrier!’ said Sirius with such obvious sincerity that Mrs. Weasley beamed at him, threw on an apron and began to help with breakfast.
‘Sirius,’ Harry muttered, unable to stand it a moment longer. ‘Can I have a quick word? Er— now?’
He walked into the dark pantry and Sirius followed. Without preamble, Harry told his godfather every detail of the vision he had had, including the fact that he himself had been the snake who had attacked Mr. Weasley.
When he paused for breath, Sirius said, ‘Did you tell Dumbledore this?’
‘Yes,’ said Harry impatiently,’ but he didn't tell me what it meant. Well, he doesn't tell me anything any more.’
‘I ‘m sure he would have told you if it was anything to worry about,’ said Sirius steadily.
‘But that's not all,’ said Harry, in a voice only a little above a whisper. ‘Sirius, I ... I think I'm going mad. Back in Dumbledore's office, just before we took the Portkey ... for a couple of seconds there I thought I was a snake, I felt
like one—my scar really hurt when I was looking at Dumbledore—Sirius, I wanted to attack him!’
He could only see a sliver of Sirius's face; the rest was in darkness.
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Tuesday, November 16, 2010
‘Wizengamot elders Griselda Marchbanks
‘Wizengamot elders Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden have resigned in protest at the introduction of the post of Inquisitor to Hogwarts.
‘"Hogwarts is a school, not an outpost of Cornelius Fudge's office,” said Madam Marchbanks. “This is a further, disgusting attempt to discredit Albus Dumbledore.” ‘(For a full account of Madam Marchbanks's alleged links to subversive goblin groups, turn to page seventeen.)’
Hermione finished reading and looked across the table at the other two.
‘So now we know how we ended up with Umbridge! Fudge passed this “Educational Decree” and forced her on us! And now he's given her the power to inspect the other teachers!’ Hermione was breathing fast and her eyes were very bright. ‘I can't believe this. It's outrageous!’
‘I know it is,’ said Harry. He looked down at his right hand, clenched on the table-top, and saw the faint white outline of the words Umbridge had forced him to cut into his skin.
But a grin was unfurling on Ron's face.
‘What?’ said Harry and Hermione together, staring at him.
‘Oh, I can't wait to see McGonagall inspected,’ said Ron happily. ‘Umbridge won't know what's hit her.’
‘Well, come on,’ said Hermione, jumping up, ‘we'd better get going, if she's inspecting Binns's class we don't want to be late ...’
But Professor Umbridge was not inspecting their History of Magic lesson, which was just as dull as the previous Monday, nor was she in Snape's dungeon when they arrived for double Potions, where Harry's moonstone essay was handed back to him with a large, spiky black ‘D’ scrawled in an upper corner.
‘I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your OWL,’ said Snape with a smirk, as he swept among them, passing back their homework. ‘This should give you a realistic idea of what to expect in the examination.’
Snape reached the front of the class and turned on his heel to face them.
‘The general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination. I expect to see a great deal more effort for this week's essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get a “D".’
He smirked as Malfoy sniggered and said in a carrying whisper, ‘Some people got a “D"? Ha!’
Harry realised that Hermione was looking sideways to see what grade he had received; he slid his moonstone essay back into his bag as quickly as possible, feeling that he would rather keep that information private.
Determined not to give Snape an excuse to tail him this lesson, Harry read and reread every line of instructions on the blackboard at least three times before acting on them. His Strengthening Solution was not precisely the clear turquoise shade of Hermione's but it was at least blue rather than pink, like Neville's, and he delivered a flask of it to Snape's desk at the end of the lesson with a feeling of mingled defiance and relief.
‘Well, that wasn't as bad as last week, was it?’ said Hermione, as they climbed the steps out of the dungeon and made their way across the Entrance Hall towards lunch. ‘And the homework didn't go too badly, either, did it?’
When neither Ron nor Harry answered, she pressed on, ‘I mean, all right, I didn't expect the top grade, not if he's marking to OWL standard, but a pass is quite encouraging at this stage, wouldn't you say?’
Harry made a non-committal noise in his throat.
‘Of course, a lot can happen between now and the exam, we've got plenty of time to improve, but the grades we're getting now are a sort of baseline, aren't they? Something we can build on ...’
They sat down together at the Gryffindor table.
‘Obviously, I'd have been thrilled if I'd got an “O"— ’
‘Hermione,’ said Ron sharply, ‘if you want to know what grades we got, ask.’
‘I don't—I didn't mean—well, if you want to tell me—’
‘I got a “P",’ said Ron, ladling soup into his bowl. ‘Happy?’
‘Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of,’ said Fred, who had just arrived at the table with George and Lee Jordan and was sitting down on Harry's right. ‘Nothing wrong with a good healthy “P".’
‘But,’ said Hermione, ‘doesn't “P” stand for ...’
‘"Poor", yeah,’ said Lee Jordan. ‘Still, better than “D", isn't it? “Dreadful"?’
Harry felt his face grow warm and faked a small coughing fit over his roll. When he emerged from this he was sorry to find that Hermione was still in full flow about OWL grades.
‘So top grade's “O” for “Outstanding",’ she was saying, ‘and then there's “A"—’
‘No, “E",’ George corrected her, ‘"E” for “Exceeds Expectations". And I've always thought Fred and I should've got “E” in everything, because we exceeded expectations just by turning up for the exams.’
They all laughed except Hermione, who ploughed on, ‘So, after “E” it's “A” for “Acceptable", and that's the last pass grade, isn't it?’
‘Yep,’ said Fred, dunking an entire roll in his soup, transferring it to his mouth and swallowing it whole.
‘Then you get “P” for “Poor"—’ Ron raised both his arms in mock celebration—'and “D” for “Dreadful".
‘And then “T",’ George reminded her.
‘"T"?’ asked Hermione, looking appalled. ‘Even lower than a “D"? What on earth does “T” stand for?’
‘"Troll",’ said George promptly.
Harry laughed again, though he was not sure whether or not George was joking. He imagined trying to conceal from Hermione that he had received ‘T's in all his OWLs and immediately resolved to work harder from now on.
‘You lot had an inspected lesson yet?’ Fred asked them.
‘No,’ said Hermione at once. ‘Have you?’
‘Just now, before lunch,’ said George. ‘Charms.’
‘What was it like?’ Harry and Hermione asked together.
‘"Hogwarts is a school, not an outpost of Cornelius Fudge's office,” said Madam Marchbanks. “This is a further, disgusting attempt to discredit Albus Dumbledore.” ‘(For a full account of Madam Marchbanks's alleged links to subversive goblin groups, turn to page seventeen.)’
Hermione finished reading and looked across the table at the other two.
‘So now we know how we ended up with Umbridge! Fudge passed this “Educational Decree” and forced her on us! And now he's given her the power to inspect the other teachers!’ Hermione was breathing fast and her eyes were very bright. ‘I can't believe this. It's outrageous!’
‘I know it is,’ said Harry. He looked down at his right hand, clenched on the table-top, and saw the faint white outline of the words Umbridge had forced him to cut into his skin.
But a grin was unfurling on Ron's face.
‘What?’ said Harry and Hermione together, staring at him.
‘Oh, I can't wait to see McGonagall inspected,’ said Ron happily. ‘Umbridge won't know what's hit her.’
‘Well, come on,’ said Hermione, jumping up, ‘we'd better get going, if she's inspecting Binns's class we don't want to be late ...’
But Professor Umbridge was not inspecting their History of Magic lesson, which was just as dull as the previous Monday, nor was she in Snape's dungeon when they arrived for double Potions, where Harry's moonstone essay was handed back to him with a large, spiky black ‘D’ scrawled in an upper corner.
‘I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your OWL,’ said Snape with a smirk, as he swept among them, passing back their homework. ‘This should give you a realistic idea of what to expect in the examination.’
Snape reached the front of the class and turned on his heel to face them.
‘The general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination. I expect to see a great deal more effort for this week's essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get a “D".’
He smirked as Malfoy sniggered and said in a carrying whisper, ‘Some people got a “D"? Ha!’
Harry realised that Hermione was looking sideways to see what grade he had received; he slid his moonstone essay back into his bag as quickly as possible, feeling that he would rather keep that information private.
Determined not to give Snape an excuse to tail him this lesson, Harry read and reread every line of instructions on the blackboard at least three times before acting on them. His Strengthening Solution was not precisely the clear turquoise shade of Hermione's but it was at least blue rather than pink, like Neville's, and he delivered a flask of it to Snape's desk at the end of the lesson with a feeling of mingled defiance and relief.
‘Well, that wasn't as bad as last week, was it?’ said Hermione, as they climbed the steps out of the dungeon and made their way across the Entrance Hall towards lunch. ‘And the homework didn't go too badly, either, did it?’
When neither Ron nor Harry answered, she pressed on, ‘I mean, all right, I didn't expect the top grade, not if he's marking to OWL standard, but a pass is quite encouraging at this stage, wouldn't you say?’
Harry made a non-committal noise in his throat.
‘Of course, a lot can happen between now and the exam, we've got plenty of time to improve, but the grades we're getting now are a sort of baseline, aren't they? Something we can build on ...’
They sat down together at the Gryffindor table.
‘Obviously, I'd have been thrilled if I'd got an “O"— ’
‘Hermione,’ said Ron sharply, ‘if you want to know what grades we got, ask.’
‘I don't—I didn't mean—well, if you want to tell me—’
‘I got a “P",’ said Ron, ladling soup into his bowl. ‘Happy?’
‘Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of,’ said Fred, who had just arrived at the table with George and Lee Jordan and was sitting down on Harry's right. ‘Nothing wrong with a good healthy “P".’
‘But,’ said Hermione, ‘doesn't “P” stand for ...’
‘"Poor", yeah,’ said Lee Jordan. ‘Still, better than “D", isn't it? “Dreadful"?’
Harry felt his face grow warm and faked a small coughing fit over his roll. When he emerged from this he was sorry to find that Hermione was still in full flow about OWL grades.
‘So top grade's “O” for “Outstanding",’ she was saying, ‘and then there's “A"—’
‘No, “E",’ George corrected her, ‘"E” for “Exceeds Expectations". And I've always thought Fred and I should've got “E” in everything, because we exceeded expectations just by turning up for the exams.’
They all laughed except Hermione, who ploughed on, ‘So, after “E” it's “A” for “Acceptable", and that's the last pass grade, isn't it?’
‘Yep,’ said Fred, dunking an entire roll in his soup, transferring it to his mouth and swallowing it whole.
‘Then you get “P” for “Poor"—’ Ron raised both his arms in mock celebration—'and “D” for “Dreadful".
‘And then “T",’ George reminded her.
‘"T"?’ asked Hermione, looking appalled. ‘Even lower than a “D"? What on earth does “T” stand for?’
‘"Troll",’ said George promptly.
Harry laughed again, though he was not sure whether or not George was joking. He imagined trying to conceal from Hermione that he had received ‘T's in all his OWLs and immediately resolved to work harder from now on.
‘You lot had an inspected lesson yet?’ Fred asked them.
‘No,’ said Hermione at once. ‘Have you?’
‘Just now, before lunch,’ said George. ‘Charms.’
‘What was it like?’ Harry and Hermione asked together.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Ron was standing there with his mouth half-open,
clearly stunned and at a loss for anything to say, whilst Hermione looked on the verge of tears.
‘BUT WHY SHOULD I KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON? WHY SHOULD ANYONE BOTHER TO TELL ME WHAT'S BEEN HAPPENING?’
‘Harry, we wanted to tell you, we really did—’ Hermione began.
‘CAN'T'VE WANTED TO THAT MUCH, CAN YOU, OR YOU'D HAVE SENT ME AN OWL, BUT DUMBLEDORE MADE YOU SWEAR—’
‘Well, he did—’
‘FOUR WEEKS I'VE BEEN STUCK IN PRIVET DRIVE, NICKING PAPERS OUT OF BINS TO TRY AND FIND OUT WHAT'S BEEN GOING ON—’
‘We wanted to—
‘I SUPPOSE YOU'VE BEEN HAVING A REAL LAUGH, HAVEN'T YOU, ALL HOLED UP HERE TOGETHER—’
‘No, honest—’
‘Harry, we're really sorry!’ said Hermione desperately, her eyes now sparkling with tears. ‘You're absolutely right, Harry— I'd be furious if it was me!’
Harry glared at her, still breathing deeply, then turned away from them again, pacing up and down. Hedwig hooted glumly from the top of the wardrobe. There was a long pause, broken only by the mournful creak of the floorboards below Harry's feet.
‘What is this place, anyway?’ he shot at Ron and Hermione.
‘Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix,’ said Ron at once.
‘Is anyone going to bother telling me what the Order of the Phoenix—?’
‘It's a secret society,’ said Hermione quickly. ‘Dumbledore's in charge, he founded it. It's the people who fought against You-Know-Who last time.’
‘Who's in it?’ said Harry coming to a halt with his hands in his pockets.
‘Quite a few people—’
‘We've met about twenty of them,’ said Ron, ‘but we think there are more.’
Harry glared at them.
‘Well?’ he demanded, looking from one to the other.
‘Er,’ said Ron. ‘Well what?’
‘Voldemort!’ said Harry furiously, and both Ron and Hermione winced. ‘What's happening? What's he up to? Where is he? What are we doing to stop him?’
‘We've told you, the Order don't let us in on their meetings,’ said Hermione nervously. ‘So we don't know the details—but we've got a general idea—’ she added hastily, seeing the look on Harry's face.
‘Fred and George have invented Extendable Ears, see,’ said Ron. ‘They're really useful.’
‘Extendable—?’
‘Ears, yeah. Only we've had to stop using them lately because Mum found out and went berserk. Fred and George had to hide them all to stop Mum binning them. But we got a good bit of use out of them before Mum realised what was going on. We know some of the Order are following known Death Eaters, keeping tabs on them, you know—’
‘—some of them are working on recruiting more people to the Order—’ said Hermione.
‘—and some of them are standing guard over something,’ said Ron. ‘They're always talking about guard duty.’
‘Couldn't have been me, could it?’ said Harry sarcastically.
‘BUT WHY SHOULD I KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON? WHY SHOULD ANYONE BOTHER TO TELL ME WHAT'S BEEN HAPPENING?’
‘Harry, we wanted to tell you, we really did—’ Hermione began.
‘CAN'T'VE WANTED TO THAT MUCH, CAN YOU, OR YOU'D HAVE SENT ME AN OWL, BUT DUMBLEDORE MADE YOU SWEAR—’
‘Well, he did—’
‘FOUR WEEKS I'VE BEEN STUCK IN PRIVET DRIVE, NICKING PAPERS OUT OF BINS TO TRY AND FIND OUT WHAT'S BEEN GOING ON—’
‘We wanted to—
‘I SUPPOSE YOU'VE BEEN HAVING A REAL LAUGH, HAVEN'T YOU, ALL HOLED UP HERE TOGETHER—’
‘No, honest—’
‘Harry, we're really sorry!’ said Hermione desperately, her eyes now sparkling with tears. ‘You're absolutely right, Harry— I'd be furious if it was me!’
Harry glared at her, still breathing deeply, then turned away from them again, pacing up and down. Hedwig hooted glumly from the top of the wardrobe. There was a long pause, broken only by the mournful creak of the floorboards below Harry's feet.
‘What is this place, anyway?’ he shot at Ron and Hermione.
‘Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix,’ said Ron at once.
‘Is anyone going to bother telling me what the Order of the Phoenix—?’
‘It's a secret society,’ said Hermione quickly. ‘Dumbledore's in charge, he founded it. It's the people who fought against You-Know-Who last time.’
‘Who's in it?’ said Harry coming to a halt with his hands in his pockets.
‘Quite a few people—’
‘We've met about twenty of them,’ said Ron, ‘but we think there are more.’
Harry glared at them.
‘Well?’ he demanded, looking from one to the other.
‘Er,’ said Ron. ‘Well what?’
‘Voldemort!’ said Harry furiously, and both Ron and Hermione winced. ‘What's happening? What's he up to? Where is he? What are we doing to stop him?’
‘We've told you, the Order don't let us in on their meetings,’ said Hermione nervously. ‘So we don't know the details—but we've got a general idea—’ she added hastily, seeing the look on Harry's face.
‘Fred and George have invented Extendable Ears, see,’ said Ron. ‘They're really useful.’
‘Extendable—?’
‘Ears, yeah. Only we've had to stop using them lately because Mum found out and went berserk. Fred and George had to hide them all to stop Mum binning them. But we got a good bit of use out of them before Mum realised what was going on. We know some of the Order are following known Death Eaters, keeping tabs on them, you know—’
‘—some of them are working on recruiting more people to the Order—’ said Hermione.
‘—and some of them are standing guard over something,’ said Ron. ‘They're always talking about guard duty.’
‘Couldn't have been me, could it?’ said Harry sarcastically.
‘We told Dumbledore we wanted to tell you what was going on,’
said Ron. ‘We did, mate. But he's really busy now, we've only seen him twice since we came here and he didn't have much time, he just made us swear not to tell you important stuff when we wrote, he said the owls might be intercepted—’
‘He could still've kept me informed if he'd wanted to,’ Harry said shortly. ‘You're not telling me he doesn't know ways to send messages without owls.’
Hermione glanced at Ron and then said, ‘I thought that, too. But he didn't want you to know anything.’
‘Maybe he thinks I can't be trusted,’ said Harry, watching their expressions.
‘Don't be thick,’ said Ron, looking highly disconcerted.
‘Or that I can't take care of myself.’
‘Of course he doesn't think that!’ said Hermione anxiously.
‘So how come I have to stay at the Dursleys’ while you two get to join in everything that's going on here?’ said Harry, the words tumbling over one another in a rush, his voice growing louder with every word. ‘How come you two are allowed to know everything that's going on?’
‘We're not!’ Ron interrupted. ‘Mum won't let us near the meetings, she says we're too young—’
But before he knew it, Harry was shouting.
‘SO YOU HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU'VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN'T YOU? YOU'VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I'VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS’ FOR A MONTH! AND I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO'VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT— WHO SAVED THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR SKINS FROM THE DEMENTORS?’
Every bitter and resentful thought Harry had had in the past month was pouring out of him: his frustration at the lack of news, the hurt that they had all been together without him, his fury at being followed and not told about it: All the feelings he was half-ashamed of finally burst their boundaries. Hedwig took fright at the noise and soared off to the top of the wardrobe again; Pigwidgeon twittered in alarm and zoomed even faster around their heads.
‘WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM> COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME!’
‘He could still've kept me informed if he'd wanted to,’ Harry said shortly. ‘You're not telling me he doesn't know ways to send messages without owls.’
Hermione glanced at Ron and then said, ‘I thought that, too. But he didn't want you to know anything.’
‘Maybe he thinks I can't be trusted,’ said Harry, watching their expressions.
‘Don't be thick,’ said Ron, looking highly disconcerted.
‘Or that I can't take care of myself.’
‘Of course he doesn't think that!’ said Hermione anxiously.
‘So how come I have to stay at the Dursleys’ while you two get to join in everything that's going on here?’ said Harry, the words tumbling over one another in a rush, his voice growing louder with every word. ‘How come you two are allowed to know everything that's going on?’
‘We're not!’ Ron interrupted. ‘Mum won't let us near the meetings, she says we're too young—’
But before he knew it, Harry was shouting.
‘SO YOU HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU'VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN'T YOU? YOU'VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I'VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS’ FOR A MONTH! AND I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO'VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT— WHO SAVED THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR SKINS FROM THE DEMENTORS?’
Every bitter and resentful thought Harry had had in the past month was pouring out of him: his frustration at the lack of news, the hurt that they had all been together without him, his fury at being followed and not told about it: All the feelings he was half-ashamed of finally burst their boundaries. Hedwig took fright at the noise and soared off to the top of the wardrobe again; Pigwidgeon twittered in alarm and zoomed even faster around their heads.
‘WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM> COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME!’
The snowy owl clicked her beak
The snowy owl clicked her beak and nibbled his ear affectionately as Harry stroked her feathers.
‘She's been in a right state,’ said Ron. ‘Pecked us half to death when she brought your last letters, look at this—’
He showed Harry the index finger of his right hand, which sported a half-healed but clearly deep cut.
‘Oh, yeah,’ Harry said. ‘Sorry about that, but I wanted answers, you know....’
‘We wanted to give them to you, mate,’ said Ron. ‘Hermione was going spare, she kept saying you'd do something stupid if you were stuck all on your own without news, but Dumbledore made us—’
‘—swear not to tell me,’ said Harry. ‘Yeah, Hermione's already said.’
The warm glow that had flared inside him at the sight of his two best friends was extinguished as something icy flooded the pit of his stomach. All of a sudden—after yearning to see them for a solid month—he felt he would rather Ron and Hermione left him alone.
There was a strained silence in which Harry stroked Hedwig automatically, not looking at either of the others.
‘He seemed to think it was best,’ said Hermione rather breathlessly. ‘Dumbledore, I mean.’
‘Right,’ said Harry. He noticed that her hands, too, bore the marks of Hedwig's beak and found that he was not at all sorry.
‘I think he thought you were safest with the Muggles—’ Ron began.
‘Yeah?’ said Harry, raising his eyebrows. ‘Have either of you been attacked by dementors this summer?’
‘Well, no—but that's why he's had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing you all the time—’
Harry felt a great jolt in his guts as though he had just missed a step going downstairs. So everyone had known he was being followed, except him.
‘Didn't work that well, though, did it?’ said Harry, doing his utmost to keep his voice even. ‘Had to look after myself after all, didn't I?’
‘He was so angry,’ said Hermione, in an almost awestruck voice. ‘Dumbledore. We saw him. When he found out Mundungus had left before his shift had ended. He was scary.’
‘Well, I'm glad he left,’ Harry said coldly. ‘If he hadn't, I wouldn't have done magic and Dumbledore would probably have left me at Privet Drive all summer.’
‘Aren't you ... aren't you worried about the Ministry of Magic hearing?’ said Hermione quietly.
‘No,’ Harry lied defiantly. He walked away from them, looking around, with Hedwig nestled contentedly on his shoulder, but this room was not likely to raise his spirits. It was dank and dark. A blank stretch of canvas in an ornate picture frame was all that relieved the bareness of the peeling walls, and as Harry passed it he thought he heard someone who was lurking out of sight snigger.
‘So why's Dumbledore been so keen to keep me in the dark?’ Harry asked, still trying hard to keep his voice casual. ‘Did you—er—bother to ask him at all?’
He glanced up just in time to see them exchanging a look that told him he was behaving just as they had feared he would. It did nothing to improve his temper.
‘She's been in a right state,’ said Ron. ‘Pecked us half to death when she brought your last letters, look at this—’
He showed Harry the index finger of his right hand, which sported a half-healed but clearly deep cut.
‘Oh, yeah,’ Harry said. ‘Sorry about that, but I wanted answers, you know....’
‘We wanted to give them to you, mate,’ said Ron. ‘Hermione was going spare, she kept saying you'd do something stupid if you were stuck all on your own without news, but Dumbledore made us—’
‘—swear not to tell me,’ said Harry. ‘Yeah, Hermione's already said.’
The warm glow that had flared inside him at the sight of his two best friends was extinguished as something icy flooded the pit of his stomach. All of a sudden—after yearning to see them for a solid month—he felt he would rather Ron and Hermione left him alone.
There was a strained silence in which Harry stroked Hedwig automatically, not looking at either of the others.
‘He seemed to think it was best,’ said Hermione rather breathlessly. ‘Dumbledore, I mean.’
‘Right,’ said Harry. He noticed that her hands, too, bore the marks of Hedwig's beak and found that he was not at all sorry.
‘I think he thought you were safest with the Muggles—’ Ron began.
‘Yeah?’ said Harry, raising his eyebrows. ‘Have either of you been attacked by dementors this summer?’
‘Well, no—but that's why he's had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing you all the time—’
Harry felt a great jolt in his guts as though he had just missed a step going downstairs. So everyone had known he was being followed, except him.
‘Didn't work that well, though, did it?’ said Harry, doing his utmost to keep his voice even. ‘Had to look after myself after all, didn't I?’
‘He was so angry,’ said Hermione, in an almost awestruck voice. ‘Dumbledore. We saw him. When he found out Mundungus had left before his shift had ended. He was scary.’
‘Well, I'm glad he left,’ Harry said coldly. ‘If he hadn't, I wouldn't have done magic and Dumbledore would probably have left me at Privet Drive all summer.’
‘Aren't you ... aren't you worried about the Ministry of Magic hearing?’ said Hermione quietly.
‘No,’ Harry lied defiantly. He walked away from them, looking around, with Hedwig nestled contentedly on his shoulder, but this room was not likely to raise his spirits. It was dank and dark. A blank stretch of canvas in an ornate picture frame was all that relieved the bareness of the peeling walls, and as Harry passed it he thought he heard someone who was lurking out of sight snigger.
‘So why's Dumbledore been so keen to keep me in the dark?’ Harry asked, still trying hard to keep his voice casual. ‘Did you—er—bother to ask him at all?’
He glanced up just in time to see them exchanging a look that told him he was behaving just as they had feared he would. It did nothing to improve his temper.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Chapter 10 Luna Lovegood
Harry had a troubled night's sleep. His parents wove in and out of his dreams, never speaking; Mrs. Weasley sobbed over Kreacher's dead body, watched by Ron and Hermione who were wearing crowns, and yet again Harry
found himself walking down a corridor ending in a locked door. He awoke abruptly with his scar prickling to find Ron already dressed and talking to him.
‘...better hurry up, Mums going ballistic, she says we're going to miss the train....’
There was a lot of commotion in the house. From what he heard as he dressed at top speed, Harry gathered that Fred and George had bewitched their trunks to fly downstairs to save the bother of carrying them, with the
result that they had hurtled straight into Ginny and knocked her down two flights of stairs into the hall; Mrs. Black and Mrs. Weasley were both screaming at the top of their voices.
‘—COULD HAVE DONE HER A SERIOUS INJURY, YOU IDIOTS—’
‘—FILTHY HALF-BREEDS, BESMIRCHING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS—’
Hermione came hurrying into the room looking flustered, just as Harry was putting on his trainers. Hedwig was swaying on her shoulder, and she was carrying a squirming Crookshanks in her arms.
‘Mum and Dad just sent Hedwig back'—the owl fluttered obligingly over and perched on top of her cage—'are you ready yet?’
‘Nearly—Ginny all right?’ Harry asked, shoving on his glasses.
‘Mrs. Weasley's patched her up,’ said Hermione. ‘But now Mad-Eye's complaining that we can't leave unless Sturgis Podmore's here, otherwise the guard will be one short.’
‘Guard?’ said Harry. ‘We have to go to King's Cross with a guard?’
‘You have to go to King's Cross with a guard,’ Hermione corrected him.
‘Why?’ said Harry irritably. ‘I thought Voldemort was supposed to be lying low, or are you telling me he's going to jump out from behind a dustbin to try and do me in.’
‘I don't know, it's just what Mad-Eye says,’ said Hermione distractedly, looking at her watch, ‘but if we don't leave soon we're definitely going to miss the train ....’
‘WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE NOW, PLEASE!’ Mrs. Weasley bellowed and Hermione jumped as though scalded and hurried out of the room. Harry seized Hedwig, stuffed her unceremoniously into her cage, and set off
downstairs after Hermione, dragging his trunk.
Mrs. Black's portrait was howling with rage but nobody was bothering to close the curtains over her; all the noise in the hall was bound to rouse her again, anyway.
‘Harry, you're to come with me and Tonks,’ shouted Mrs. Weasley over the repeated screeches of ‘MUDBLOODS! SCUM! CREATURES OF DIRT!’ ‘Leave your trunk and your owl, Alastor's going to deal with the luggage....
Oh, for heavens sake, Sirius, Dumbledore said no!’
A bearlike black dog had appeared at Harry's side as he was clambering over the various trunks cluttering the hall to get to Mrs. Weasley.
‘Oh honestly...’ said Mrs. Weasley despairingly, ‘well, on your own head be it!’
She wrenched open the front door and stepped out into the weak September sunlight. Harry and the dog followed her. The door slammed behind them and Mrs. Black's screeches were cut off instantly.
‘Where's Tonks?’ Harry said, looking round as they went down the stone steps of number twelve, which vanished the moment they reached the pavement.
‘She's waiting for us just up here,’ said Mrs. Weasley stiffly, averting her eyes from the lolloping black dog beside Harry.
An old woman greeted them on the corner. She had tightly curled grey hair and wore a purple hat shaped like a pork pie.
‘Wotcher, Harry,’ she said, winking. ‘Better hurry up, hadn't we, Molly?’ she added, checking her watch.
‘I know, I know,’ moaned Mrs. Weasley, lengthening her stride, ‘but Mad-Eye wanted to wait for Sturgis.... If only Arthur could have got us cars from the Ministry again ... but Fudge won't let him borrow so much as an empty ink
bottle these days... How Muggles can stand travelling without magic...’
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found himself walking down a corridor ending in a locked door. He awoke abruptly with his scar prickling to find Ron already dressed and talking to him.
‘...better hurry up, Mums going ballistic, she says we're going to miss the train....’
There was a lot of commotion in the house. From what he heard as he dressed at top speed, Harry gathered that Fred and George had bewitched their trunks to fly downstairs to save the bother of carrying them, with the
result that they had hurtled straight into Ginny and knocked her down two flights of stairs into the hall; Mrs. Black and Mrs. Weasley were both screaming at the top of their voices.
‘—COULD HAVE DONE HER A SERIOUS INJURY, YOU IDIOTS—’
‘—FILTHY HALF-BREEDS, BESMIRCHING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS—’
Hermione came hurrying into the room looking flustered, just as Harry was putting on his trainers. Hedwig was swaying on her shoulder, and she was carrying a squirming Crookshanks in her arms.
‘Mum and Dad just sent Hedwig back'—the owl fluttered obligingly over and perched on top of her cage—'are you ready yet?’
‘Nearly—Ginny all right?’ Harry asked, shoving on his glasses.
‘Mrs. Weasley's patched her up,’ said Hermione. ‘But now Mad-Eye's complaining that we can't leave unless Sturgis Podmore's here, otherwise the guard will be one short.’
‘Guard?’ said Harry. ‘We have to go to King's Cross with a guard?’
‘You have to go to King's Cross with a guard,’ Hermione corrected him.
‘Why?’ said Harry irritably. ‘I thought Voldemort was supposed to be lying low, or are you telling me he's going to jump out from behind a dustbin to try and do me in.’
‘I don't know, it's just what Mad-Eye says,’ said Hermione distractedly, looking at her watch, ‘but if we don't leave soon we're definitely going to miss the train ....’
‘WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE NOW, PLEASE!’ Mrs. Weasley bellowed and Hermione jumped as though scalded and hurried out of the room. Harry seized Hedwig, stuffed her unceremoniously into her cage, and set off
downstairs after Hermione, dragging his trunk.
Mrs. Black's portrait was howling with rage but nobody was bothering to close the curtains over her; all the noise in the hall was bound to rouse her again, anyway.
‘Harry, you're to come with me and Tonks,’ shouted Mrs. Weasley over the repeated screeches of ‘MUDBLOODS! SCUM! CREATURES OF DIRT!’ ‘Leave your trunk and your owl, Alastor's going to deal with the luggage....
Oh, for heavens sake, Sirius, Dumbledore said no!’
A bearlike black dog had appeared at Harry's side as he was clambering over the various trunks cluttering the hall to get to Mrs. Weasley.
‘Oh honestly...’ said Mrs. Weasley despairingly, ‘well, on your own head be it!’
She wrenched open the front door and stepped out into the weak September sunlight. Harry and the dog followed her. The door slammed behind them and Mrs. Black's screeches were cut off instantly.
‘Where's Tonks?’ Harry said, looking round as they went down the stone steps of number twelve, which vanished the moment they reached the pavement.
‘She's waiting for us just up here,’ said Mrs. Weasley stiffly, averting her eyes from the lolloping black dog beside Harry.
An old woman greeted them on the corner. She had tightly curled grey hair and wore a purple hat shaped like a pork pie.
‘Wotcher, Harry,’ she said, winking. ‘Better hurry up, hadn't we, Molly?’ she added, checking her watch.
‘I know, I know,’ moaned Mrs. Weasley, lengthening her stride, ‘but Mad-Eye wanted to wait for Sturgis.... If only Arthur could have got us cars from the Ministry again ... but Fudge won't let him borrow so much as an empty ink
bottle these days... How Muggles can stand travelling without magic...’
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Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Current Issues with the Global Economy
Author：Dane Smith Source：none Hits：88 UpdateTime：2008-5-1 0:28:34
Though the housing bubble deflated about two years ago, its true effects are only now beginning to emerge. In late 2006, when the economy first began to show signs of weakness in the housing market, most economists predicted that a recession was very unlikely, and that any downturn in real estate prices would be localized and mild. In reality, a global downturn is now a real threat, with the final price of the credit crunch projected to exceed $1 trillion dollars.
Not only have falling house prices in the US spread to other markets abroad, they have contributed to massive losses in other areas of lending such as credit cards, and the financial industry, which is now reeling from the US government bailout of Bear Stearns. What does this mean for emerging economies like China and India? In the short term, volatility seems to be the order of the day, with India's fledgling exchanges rocked by jittery investors. Until financial centers and investors can regain confidence, market conditions will be exaggerated. Early trading also plays a psychological role for investors, as news developments impact Asia before Wall Street opens.
The US and the UK both face difficult home pricing corrections which will continue to hamper growth. Most homeowners expect, if not to make a profit, not to sell their houses at a loss, which is a difficult pill to swallow. And if they can't sell their homes for what they think they're worth, then waiting it out contributes to prices falling, thus exacerbating the problem.
While government intervention has been exceptionally forthcoming in efforts to preserve confidence in financial markets, less attention has been given to homeowners who are being foreclosed on over the next year, which is only so low because of robust growth in Asia.
Another prospect which looms over every government is the specter of inflation, which threatens to overtake the slumping economy as the number one priority for the Federal Reserve and other central banks, who have had to take extreme action to prevent further liquidity losses. The Fed has sold off over $100 billion in auctions and lowered interest rates five times in an attempt to lower mortgage interest rates, but confidence will remain shaky until the full extent of investment bank's sub-prime exposure is realized. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, central banks are taking decisive action in hopes that the economy will level out without pushing inflation to dangerous levels.
Though the housing bubble deflated about two years ago, its true effects are only now beginning to emerge. In late 2006, when the economy first began to show signs of weakness in the housing market, most economists predicted that a recession was very unlikely, and that any downturn in real estate prices would be localized and mild. In reality, a global downturn is now a real threat, with the final price of the credit crunch projected to exceed $1 trillion dollars.
Not only have falling house prices in the US spread to other markets abroad, they have contributed to massive losses in other areas of lending such as credit cards, and the financial industry, which is now reeling from the US government bailout of Bear Stearns. What does this mean for emerging economies like China and India? In the short term, volatility seems to be the order of the day, with India's fledgling exchanges rocked by jittery investors. Until financial centers and investors can regain confidence, market conditions will be exaggerated. Early trading also plays a psychological role for investors, as news developments impact Asia before Wall Street opens.
The US and the UK both face difficult home pricing corrections which will continue to hamper growth. Most homeowners expect, if not to make a profit, not to sell their houses at a loss, which is a difficult pill to swallow. And if they can't sell their homes for what they think they're worth, then waiting it out contributes to prices falling, thus exacerbating the problem.
While government intervention has been exceptionally forthcoming in efforts to preserve confidence in financial markets, less attention has been given to homeowners who are being foreclosed on over the next year, which is only so low because of robust growth in Asia.
Another prospect which looms over every government is the specter of inflation, which threatens to overtake the slumping economy as the number one priority for the Federal Reserve and other central banks, who have had to take extreme action to prevent further liquidity losses. The Fed has sold off over $100 billion in auctions and lowered interest rates five times in an attempt to lower mortgage interest rates, but confidence will remain shaky until the full extent of investment bank's sub-prime exposure is realized. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, central banks are taking decisive action in hopes that the economy will level out without pushing inflation to dangerous levels.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Customizing Walls by Decorating with Wallpaper
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：32 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 1:01:48
Picking the kind of wallpaper to use not only depends on the liking of the homeowner, but also the location where the wallpaper will be installed, the amount of human traffic, those who will frequent the area and the activities
that will transpire in the room. These factors must be taken into account when redecorating walls with designer wallpaper and wallpaper borders.
Low-traffic and low-activity areas like master bedrooms, dens, and babies rooms may be pasted with standard wallpapers since these areas are not prone to damage or stains. However, high-traffic and high-volume areas
such as the kitchen, bathroom, and childrens rooms must be fitted with vinyl wallpapers and wallpaper borders, because they are easy to clean and are more durable than standard designer wallpaper.
As mentioned before, the design of the wallpaper also depends on those who frequent the area. The bedroom for instance, serves as a haven for every member of the household and for those whose room is to be
wallpapered, they will most likely want to decorate their bedrooms to express their style and personality.
Teenagers are very creative --- when it comes to decorating their walls, they tend to be very passionate in expressing themselves in nearly every aspect of their room be it the murals, wallpaper borders, or other wall decors.
Teens typically like loud, animated wallpaper designs and murals. However, there are no exact trends in decorating a teenagers bedroom since most of them will end up highly individualized in terms of colors and themes.
The nursery room is a peaceful place. As such, the colors and patterns of their walls should be very comforting but still exhibit vibrant, light colors. Colorful designer wallpaper, murals, and wallpaper borders that are based on
nursery rhymes are a great decorative choice for nursery rooms. Do stay away from colors or pictures that are too loud for the little ones. Strike a good balance between colors and design for stimulation and comfort when
choosing nursery room wallpaper.
For kitchens, the best way to enliven the walls is to use kitchen wall dcor and wallpaper that match and complement each other. You can choose from a wide array of themes: country, American, contemporary, toile, and a lot
more. Typical kitchen wall dcor have farm or barn animals, cooking or silverware, topiaries, fruits and vegetables, flowers, clocks or jars. There are also those with French-worded recipes, Victorian motifs, lattice and other
vintage-inspired designs. Faux finish designer wallpaper also goes well with kitchen counter tops. They should match the color scheme of the rest of the kitchen to create a classy kitchen look.
To give your bathroom the illusion of having a larger space, go for bathroom wallpaper that gives an airy impression. Colors like white, yellow, or any neutral colors can do the trick. A bathroom wallpaper mural placed on the
largest wall also helps in making a small bathroom seem bigger. For standard bathrooms, the taffeta-themed papers are also a good choice since currently, they make up the latest wallpaper trend.
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Picking the kind of wallpaper to use not only depends on the liking of the homeowner, but also the location where the wallpaper will be installed, the amount of human traffic, those who will frequent the area and the activities
that will transpire in the room. These factors must be taken into account when redecorating walls with designer wallpaper and wallpaper borders.
Low-traffic and low-activity areas like master bedrooms, dens, and babies rooms may be pasted with standard wallpapers since these areas are not prone to damage or stains. However, high-traffic and high-volume areas
such as the kitchen, bathroom, and childrens rooms must be fitted with vinyl wallpapers and wallpaper borders, because they are easy to clean and are more durable than standard designer wallpaper.
As mentioned before, the design of the wallpaper also depends on those who frequent the area. The bedroom for instance, serves as a haven for every member of the household and for those whose room is to be
wallpapered, they will most likely want to decorate their bedrooms to express their style and personality.
Teenagers are very creative --- when it comes to decorating their walls, they tend to be very passionate in expressing themselves in nearly every aspect of their room be it the murals, wallpaper borders, or other wall decors.
Teens typically like loud, animated wallpaper designs and murals. However, there are no exact trends in decorating a teenagers bedroom since most of them will end up highly individualized in terms of colors and themes.
The nursery room is a peaceful place. As such, the colors and patterns of their walls should be very comforting but still exhibit vibrant, light colors. Colorful designer wallpaper, murals, and wallpaper borders that are based on
nursery rhymes are a great decorative choice for nursery rooms. Do stay away from colors or pictures that are too loud for the little ones. Strike a good balance between colors and design for stimulation and comfort when
choosing nursery room wallpaper.
For kitchens, the best way to enliven the walls is to use kitchen wall dcor and wallpaper that match and complement each other. You can choose from a wide array of themes: country, American, contemporary, toile, and a lot
more. Typical kitchen wall dcor have farm or barn animals, cooking or silverware, topiaries, fruits and vegetables, flowers, clocks or jars. There are also those with French-worded recipes, Victorian motifs, lattice and other
vintage-inspired designs. Faux finish designer wallpaper also goes well with kitchen counter tops. They should match the color scheme of the rest of the kitchen to create a classy kitchen look.
To give your bathroom the illusion of having a larger space, go for bathroom wallpaper that gives an airy impression. Colors like white, yellow, or any neutral colors can do the trick. A bathroom wallpaper mural placed on the
largest wall also helps in making a small bathroom seem bigger. For standard bathrooms, the taffeta-themed papers are also a good choice since currently, they make up the latest wallpaper trend.
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Monday, November 8, 2010
Doing Breast Exam Yourself
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：124 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 0:37:33
In common about 1 in every 12 women will treaty breast canker at some age, the chances of contracting it later in life being better. Thanks to novel medicine many breast cancers can be treated successfully lacking impacting the life in a major way. However, the star of one's therapy depends critically on early detection. The earlier breast cancer is detected the better off you are. One plain way to multiply your odds of early diction is performing a breast identity examination on a reliable footing.
The object of breast qualities examination is the detection of any changes which could gesture that something means of more investigation, moreover with a professional clinical exam, a mammogram, or another diagnostic process. The ability to moderator and determine what is abnormal relies on the erudition of what is habitual, and this varies from any one to person even still there are some commonalities.
The first tread in conducting a courteous person-exam is to know what your own breasts feel and look like in common. Every part of the body goes through subtle changes on a common basis. Throughout the menstrual cycle these changes might be exaggerated. Breasts may become enlarged and even more precise. If you depart your character-exam a few days before your time every month it will become fondness. If you position-menopausal you should pick the same day each month to execute the exam.
Stand directly in front of a mirror naked and inspect your breasts visually. Look for any changes in the magnitude of just one breast. Typical menstrual cycles and other changes that are hormone allied will typically change both breasts simultaneously. Look for any changes in quantity or paint of your areola (darker skin around nipple) or nipple. Take document of any wrinkling, or "orange covering" appearance that is not allied to cold temperature. The areola are curved, look for any lack in symmetry.
Squeeze the nipples gently noting any fluid that comes out. For some women some lactation is usual. Yellowish, pus-like fluid may necessity to be foster examined by a surgeon. It could be an unfussy infection or it could be an early symbol of a developing cancer. Make really you inspect both nipples.
Continue to look for any such tumors by love precisely over the shell of the whole breast with the arms lowered. Take in not just the seeming from the breastbone to feature, but up toward the armpit as well. Press strongly with the identify pads and move the hand gradually, view for any thickening or lumps.
Not all lumps are cancerous, in actuality most of them aren't. A lump could be a simple swelling- which is a fluid crammed hankie sac. Often the can be enthused somewhat and are globular. These are kindly, but you might want to have them detached regardless. Some will wilt away spontaneously over time.
Cancerous lumps are typically harder and excluding accepted in their affect and magnitude. Typically they are attached to breast hankie. Not all hard lumps are cancerous also, so don't get yourself worked up. Many are what are called fibroadenomas, a benign cluster of cells. Professional taxing is vital to know for surely what you have.
In common about 1 in every 12 women will treaty breast canker at some age, the chances of contracting it later in life being better. Thanks to novel medicine many breast cancers can be treated successfully lacking impacting the life in a major way. However, the star of one's therapy depends critically on early detection. The earlier breast cancer is detected the better off you are. One plain way to multiply your odds of early diction is performing a breast identity examination on a reliable footing.
The object of breast qualities examination is the detection of any changes which could gesture that something means of more investigation, moreover with a professional clinical exam, a mammogram, or another diagnostic process. The ability to moderator and determine what is abnormal relies on the erudition of what is habitual, and this varies from any one to person even still there are some commonalities.
The first tread in conducting a courteous person-exam is to know what your own breasts feel and look like in common. Every part of the body goes through subtle changes on a common basis. Throughout the menstrual cycle these changes might be exaggerated. Breasts may become enlarged and even more precise. If you depart your character-exam a few days before your time every month it will become fondness. If you position-menopausal you should pick the same day each month to execute the exam.
Stand directly in front of a mirror naked and inspect your breasts visually. Look for any changes in the magnitude of just one breast. Typical menstrual cycles and other changes that are hormone allied will typically change both breasts simultaneously. Look for any changes in quantity or paint of your areola (darker skin around nipple) or nipple. Take document of any wrinkling, or "orange covering" appearance that is not allied to cold temperature. The areola are curved, look for any lack in symmetry.
Squeeze the nipples gently noting any fluid that comes out. For some women some lactation is usual. Yellowish, pus-like fluid may necessity to be foster examined by a surgeon. It could be an unfussy infection or it could be an early symbol of a developing cancer. Make really you inspect both nipples.
Continue to look for any such tumors by love precisely over the shell of the whole breast with the arms lowered. Take in not just the seeming from the breastbone to feature, but up toward the armpit as well. Press strongly with the identify pads and move the hand gradually, view for any thickening or lumps.
Not all lumps are cancerous, in actuality most of them aren't. A lump could be a simple swelling- which is a fluid crammed hankie sac. Often the can be enthused somewhat and are globular. These are kindly, but you might want to have them detached regardless. Some will wilt away spontaneously over time.
Cancerous lumps are typically harder and excluding accepted in their affect and magnitude. Typically they are attached to breast hankie. Not all hard lumps are cancerous also, so don't get yourself worked up. Many are what are called fibroadenomas, a benign cluster of cells. Professional taxing is vital to know for surely what you have.
Treatment for a Low Price with DCA
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：123 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 0:37:54
The cells in our body play a vital role in our lifestyle. Once the cells are in a proper condition then no problems would arise, but when the cells are in an abnormal growth serious problems may occur. An abnormality in the growth of cells may cause cancer. Cancer cells are cells that have an abnormal growth. These cancer cells may be malignant or benign. Malignant are those cancer cells, which are harmful and deadly, while benign cancer cells are those, which are not harmful and deadly. Benign cancer cells tend to stops growing while malignant cancer cells are continuous in growth.
Cancer is one of the most serious conditions one may be experiencing. Having cancer cells in our body is very tragic. A cancer patient may be in a total bizarre when experiencing the pain of the ailment. The cancer cells can affect almost any organ or tissue. Cancer cells are such a traitor. Often, you dont immediately feel the pain when the cancer cells are in the process of development. Most of the time, manifestations of the pain and the ailment happen when the cancer cells are already developed. Developed cancer cells are hard to treat, but all cancer cells needs to be treated at an early stage.
Today, there are many forms of treatment for cancer cells. We are lucky to live at the present time. Before, treatment for cancer cells was so impossible. But now, treatments are just right in front of us. When a patient seeks the help of the doctor concerning his cancer cells and conditions, chemotherapy is often resorted. Chemotherapy is the most known treatment for the murder of cancer cells. Almost all hospitals in most countries and cities have chemotherapy available for most cancer patients. This is so because of the technologies that we have available in the present world.
Discovery of treatments for cancer cells have been on going. The process of looking for a newer and better treatment is still progressing. Many new prospected drug-related treatments for the suppression of cancer cells are now being tested and processed. One of which is DCA. DCA, dichloroacetic acid, is now in the process of testing and processing. At the present, dichloroacetic acid, or DCA, has been approved for a trial in Canada. Once this trial is put to a success then treatment now for the suppression of cancer cells will now be cheaper and simpler.
Dichloroacetic acid, or DCA, are now available online. It is primarily available at Better DCA. Better DCA is has been noted worldwide for its known quality products at a low cost. Better DCA is primarily one of the leading producers of DCA worldwide. Better DCA also offers shipment in almost all parts of the world. It has been known for its quality products and quality performance worldwide. With Better DCA, buying DCA products will never be a waste. This fact is a total truth.
Buy DCA at the leading online store just right for your DCA needs. DCA is believed to suppress the growth of malignant cancer cells. Buying DCA at a prime online store will never lead you wrong. Buy DCA at Better DCA. Better DCA offers the best quality DCA products in the world. Better DCA is after the best quality products for their customers but the same time spending less than usual.
The cells in our body play a vital role in our lifestyle. Once the cells are in a proper condition then no problems would arise, but when the cells are in an abnormal growth serious problems may occur. An abnormality in the growth of cells may cause cancer. Cancer cells are cells that have an abnormal growth. These cancer cells may be malignant or benign. Malignant are those cancer cells, which are harmful and deadly, while benign cancer cells are those, which are not harmful and deadly. Benign cancer cells tend to stops growing while malignant cancer cells are continuous in growth.
Cancer is one of the most serious conditions one may be experiencing. Having cancer cells in our body is very tragic. A cancer patient may be in a total bizarre when experiencing the pain of the ailment. The cancer cells can affect almost any organ or tissue. Cancer cells are such a traitor. Often, you dont immediately feel the pain when the cancer cells are in the process of development. Most of the time, manifestations of the pain and the ailment happen when the cancer cells are already developed. Developed cancer cells are hard to treat, but all cancer cells needs to be treated at an early stage.
Today, there are many forms of treatment for cancer cells. We are lucky to live at the present time. Before, treatment for cancer cells was so impossible. But now, treatments are just right in front of us. When a patient seeks the help of the doctor concerning his cancer cells and conditions, chemotherapy is often resorted. Chemotherapy is the most known treatment for the murder of cancer cells. Almost all hospitals in most countries and cities have chemotherapy available for most cancer patients. This is so because of the technologies that we have available in the present world.
Discovery of treatments for cancer cells have been on going. The process of looking for a newer and better treatment is still progressing. Many new prospected drug-related treatments for the suppression of cancer cells are now being tested and processed. One of which is DCA. DCA, dichloroacetic acid, is now in the process of testing and processing. At the present, dichloroacetic acid, or DCA, has been approved for a trial in Canada. Once this trial is put to a success then treatment now for the suppression of cancer cells will now be cheaper and simpler.
Dichloroacetic acid, or DCA, are now available online. It is primarily available at Better DCA. Better DCA is has been noted worldwide for its known quality products at a low cost. Better DCA is primarily one of the leading producers of DCA worldwide. Better DCA also offers shipment in almost all parts of the world. It has been known for its quality products and quality performance worldwide. With Better DCA, buying DCA products will never be a waste. This fact is a total truth.
Buy DCA at the leading online store just right for your DCA needs. DCA is believed to suppress the growth of malignant cancer cells. Buying DCA at a prime online store will never lead you wrong. Buy DCA at Better DCA. Better DCA offers the best quality DCA products in the world. Better DCA is after the best quality products for their customers but the same time spending less than usual.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Personal Debt Consolidation Loans: The Only Place Where Additions Lessen The Total!
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：53 UpdateTime：2008-10-18 23:42:26
If youre buried in debt, endless outstanding bills and you cannot manage the countless payments, Personal Debt Consolidation Loans are your best solution. Personal Debt Consolidation Loans make managing and repaying debt easier or simply possible in some cases. When faced with trying times people usually file for bankruptcy. Each year, millions of people do this as a means of eliminating their debts. However, although bankruptcy may seem like Mr. Fix It, the negative effects are long-termwhich is mostly bad credit history leading to hesitant lenders in the future, when your crisis could be much worse. Instead of taking such drastic measures and risking your financial future, get yourself more familiar with Personal Debt Consolidation Loans.
Personal Debt Consolidation Loans help you consolidate your financial crises, thus reducing your many problems to just one. They are intended to help you and me manage our debt and our repayments single handedly. Consolidating debt becomes essential at some point when there are too many payments that you need to make to different lenders, institutions, credit card agencies, etc. When you are in the middle of multiple debts, you are making several checks to several agencies, lenders, credit card companiesall with different pay-by dates, of varying amounts and interest rates. This sounds complicated enoughhow much worse can reality be? Managing such complicated finances becomes stressful causing us to often miss payments. This is why Personal Debt Consolidation Loans make a whole lot of sense.
Personal Debt Consolidation Loans allow individuals to merge all their existing payments into a single outstanding loan. This consolidation loan, on getting approved instantly clears all our multiple existing payments leaving you to repay just oneyes, just one loanthe Personal Debt Consolidation Loan. This loan, like any other, allows you the secured or unsecured option, leaving you with the choice of offering collateral to support your case or not.
Personal Debt Consolidation Loans make living much easier; they reduce stress and help you manage your finances. Now, all you need to do is repay a single loan. This means making one check to a single debt consolidation lender/agency at an affordable rate of interest. Something you need to know, however, is that since the amount of the loan is larger, the loan will, in most cases get extended over a longer period of time, making you pay more interest than you would. This is something you need to get clarified right away to be sure of just how much extra you end up paying in the long run.
Most consolidation agencies/lenders also provide a credit counseling session that borrowers can avail of. This program helps you cut down on additional expenses and stick to a budget specially prepared for you. This is why, taking a Personal Debt Consolidation Loan from the right lender becomes so vital. Remember to weigh your options before finalizing anything. If youve already done your research, youre on the right path to a debt-free future!
If youre buried in debt, endless outstanding bills and you cannot manage the countless payments, Personal Debt Consolidation Loans are your best solution. Personal Debt Consolidation Loans make managing and repaying debt easier or simply possible in some cases. When faced with trying times people usually file for bankruptcy. Each year, millions of people do this as a means of eliminating their debts. However, although bankruptcy may seem like Mr. Fix It, the negative effects are long-termwhich is mostly bad credit history leading to hesitant lenders in the future, when your crisis could be much worse. Instead of taking such drastic measures and risking your financial future, get yourself more familiar with Personal Debt Consolidation Loans.
Personal Debt Consolidation Loans help you consolidate your financial crises, thus reducing your many problems to just one. They are intended to help you and me manage our debt and our repayments single handedly. Consolidating debt becomes essential at some point when there are too many payments that you need to make to different lenders, institutions, credit card agencies, etc. When you are in the middle of multiple debts, you are making several checks to several agencies, lenders, credit card companiesall with different pay-by dates, of varying amounts and interest rates. This sounds complicated enoughhow much worse can reality be? Managing such complicated finances becomes stressful causing us to often miss payments. This is why Personal Debt Consolidation Loans make a whole lot of sense.
Personal Debt Consolidation Loans allow individuals to merge all their existing payments into a single outstanding loan. This consolidation loan, on getting approved instantly clears all our multiple existing payments leaving you to repay just oneyes, just one loanthe Personal Debt Consolidation Loan. This loan, like any other, allows you the secured or unsecured option, leaving you with the choice of offering collateral to support your case or not.
Personal Debt Consolidation Loans make living much easier; they reduce stress and help you manage your finances. Now, all you need to do is repay a single loan. This means making one check to a single debt consolidation lender/agency at an affordable rate of interest. Something you need to know, however, is that since the amount of the loan is larger, the loan will, in most cases get extended over a longer period of time, making you pay more interest than you would. This is something you need to get clarified right away to be sure of just how much extra you end up paying in the long run.
Most consolidation agencies/lenders also provide a credit counseling session that borrowers can avail of. This program helps you cut down on additional expenses and stick to a budget specially prepared for you. This is why, taking a Personal Debt Consolidation Loan from the right lender becomes so vital. Remember to weigh your options before finalizing anything. If youve already done your research, youre on the right path to a debt-free future!
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Baby Tote Diaper Bags Adjust to Your Childs Needs
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：106 UpdateTime：2008-10-18 23:37:29
Baby tote diaper bags are large bags, usually made of canvas and sometimes have a pocket or two inside and maybe one on the outside. They have large straps like a purse and can be carried over your shoulder like a purse.
Baby tote diaper bags are not as organized as the usual everyday diaper bags. They hold everything in one big section of the tote, like a large purse or canvas bag. Some parents prefer this style to the traditional diaper bag because it doesnt look like a diaper bag; it looks like a canvas book bag or canvas grocery bag.
These baby tote diaper bags can carry much more than the everyday diaper bags and more than the mini diaper bags people carry for small trips. They can carry approximately six diapers and several bottles of formula or juice and many toys at the bottom, in addition to baby wipes and cream or powder.
Baby tote diaper bags are ideal for going to the beach or on a picnic because you can just dump everything out and the sand and dirt will fall out as well and you just place everything back inside the tote.
Often hospitals give new mothers of infants baby tote diaper bags filled with newborn goodies like diapers and formula samples and coupons for first photographs and such as an advertisement for the baby product companies. Sometimes the hospitals name is printed on the side of the baby tote diaper bags as well. They are great to keep in the car for outings and only fill it up when supplies become low or empty of necessities. And keep a baby tote diaper bag in the downstairs room filled with diapers and wipes and cream or powder so you are not constantly running up the stairs to get what you need.
Baby tote diaper bags are easily made out of a large piece of canvas, even if you dont sew. They are not that difficult to make. You would start with a yard of canvas and fold it in half, cutting about two inches off the edge for the straps. Then you can hand stitch up each side and across the bottom with a heavy string or thread. You can go back and turn the bag right side in and if you want stitch it again with a colorful thread in large cross stitches. The fabric store sells iron on patches or easy sew patches you can add to the tote and once you add the straps, you have a home made baby tote diaper bag!
Another reason parents like baby tote diaper bags is because they are machine washable in case of some item spilling in the bag. Keep in mind some of the everyday diaper bags are not machine washable because they are a vinyl or they have an attached diaper changing pad. Canvas or material baby tote diaper bags can be emptied and thrown in the washer and dryer and they come out looking brighter and smell better, too.
No matter what your reasons, baby tote diaper bags are great items to use for your growing children. They are very functional and their uses grow as your childs needs change as she or he gets older and requires different items. From diapers and wipes to toys and sippy cups, baby tote diaper bags can handle it all.
Baby tote diaper bags are large bags, usually made of canvas and sometimes have a pocket or two inside and maybe one on the outside. They have large straps like a purse and can be carried over your shoulder like a purse.
Baby tote diaper bags are not as organized as the usual everyday diaper bags. They hold everything in one big section of the tote, like a large purse or canvas bag. Some parents prefer this style to the traditional diaper bag because it doesnt look like a diaper bag; it looks like a canvas book bag or canvas grocery bag.
These baby tote diaper bags can carry much more than the everyday diaper bags and more than the mini diaper bags people carry for small trips. They can carry approximately six diapers and several bottles of formula or juice and many toys at the bottom, in addition to baby wipes and cream or powder.
Baby tote diaper bags are ideal for going to the beach or on a picnic because you can just dump everything out and the sand and dirt will fall out as well and you just place everything back inside the tote.
Often hospitals give new mothers of infants baby tote diaper bags filled with newborn goodies like diapers and formula samples and coupons for first photographs and such as an advertisement for the baby product companies. Sometimes the hospitals name is printed on the side of the baby tote diaper bags as well. They are great to keep in the car for outings and only fill it up when supplies become low or empty of necessities. And keep a baby tote diaper bag in the downstairs room filled with diapers and wipes and cream or powder so you are not constantly running up the stairs to get what you need.
Baby tote diaper bags are easily made out of a large piece of canvas, even if you dont sew. They are not that difficult to make. You would start with a yard of canvas and fold it in half, cutting about two inches off the edge for the straps. Then you can hand stitch up each side and across the bottom with a heavy string or thread. You can go back and turn the bag right side in and if you want stitch it again with a colorful thread in large cross stitches. The fabric store sells iron on patches or easy sew patches you can add to the tote and once you add the straps, you have a home made baby tote diaper bag!
Another reason parents like baby tote diaper bags is because they are machine washable in case of some item spilling in the bag. Keep in mind some of the everyday diaper bags are not machine washable because they are a vinyl or they have an attached diaper changing pad. Canvas or material baby tote diaper bags can be emptied and thrown in the washer and dryer and they come out looking brighter and smell better, too.
No matter what your reasons, baby tote diaper bags are great items to use for your growing children. They are very functional and their uses grow as your childs needs change as she or he gets older and requires different items. From diapers and wipes to toys and sippy cups, baby tote diaper bags can handle it all.
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