“Yes, my Lord,” whispered Bellatrix, and her eyes swam with tears of gratitude again. “At the first chance!”
“You shall have it,” said Voldemort. “And in your family, so in the world … we shall cut away the cancer that infects us until only those of the true blood remain ...”
Voldemort raised Lucius Malfoy’s wand, pointed it directly at the slowly revolving figure suspended over the table, and gave it a tiny flick. The figure came to life with a groan and began to struggle against invisible bonds.
“Do you recognize our guest, Severus?” asked Voldemort.
Snape raised his eyes to the upside down face. All of the Death Eaters were looking up at the captive now, as though they had been given permission to show curiosity.
As she revolved to face the firelight, the woman said in a cracked and terrified voice, “Severus! Help me!”
“Ah, yes,” said Snape as the prisoner turned slowly away again.
“And you, Draco?” asked Voldemort, stroking the snake’s snout with his wand-free hand. Draco shook his head jerkily. Now that the woman had woken, he seemed unable to look at her anymore.
“But you would not have taken her classes,” said Voldemort. “For those of you who do not know, we are joined here tonight by Charity Burbage who, until recently, taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”
There were small noises of comprehension around the table. A broad, hunched woman with pointed teeth cackled.
“Yes … Professor Burbage taught the children of witches and wizards all about Muggles … how they are not so different from us …”
One of the Death Eaters spat on the floor. Charity Burbage revolved to face Snape again.
“Severus … please … please …”
“Silence,” said Voldemort, with another twitch of Malfoy’s wand, and Charity fell silent as if gagged. “Not content with corrupting and polluting the minds of Wizarding children, last week Professor Burbage wrote an impassioned defense of Mudbloods in the Daily Prophet. Wizards, she says, must accept these thieves of their knowledge and magic. The dwindling of the purebloods is, says Professor Burbage, a most desirable circumstance … She would have us all mate with Muggles … or, no doubt, werewolves …”
Nobody laughed this time. There was no mistaking the anger and contempt in Voldemort’s voice. For the third time, Charity Burbage revolved to face Snape. Tears were pouring from her eyes into her hair. Snape looked back at her, quite impassive, as she turned slowly away from him again.
“Avada Kedavra”
The flash of green light illuminated every corner of the room. Charity fell, with a resounding crash, onto the table below, which trembled and creaked. Several of the Death Eaters leapt back in their chairs. Draco fell out of his onto the floor.
“Dinner, Nagini,” said Voldemort softly, and the great snake swayed and slithered from his shoulders onto the polished wood.
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Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
“Yeah, I know that, thanks,”
“Yeah, I know that, thanks,” said Harry, not looking up from the book. “That's why I'm looking for something different. Dumbledore says Veritaserum won't do it, but
there might be something else, a potion or a spell...”
“You're going about it the wrong way,” said Hermione. “Only you can get the memory, Dumbledore says. That must mean you can persuade Slughorn where other people
can't. It's not a question of slipping him a potion, anyone could do that —”
“How do you spell ‘belligerent'?” said Ron, shaking his quill very hard while staring at his parchment. “It can't be B—U—M —”
“No, it isn't,” said Hermione, pulling Ron's essay toward her. “And ‘augury’ doesn't begin O—R—G either. What kind of quill are you using?”
“It's one of Fred and George's Spell-Checking ones, but I think the charm must be wearing off.”
“Yes, it must,” said Hermione, pointing at the title of his essay, “because we were asked how we'd deal with Dementors, not ‘Dugbogs', and I don't remember you
changing your name to ‘Roonil Wazlib’ either.”
“Ah no!” said Ron, staring horror-struck at the parchment. “Don't say I'll have to write the whole thing out again!”
“It's okay, we can fix it,” said Hermione, pulling the essay toward her and taking out her wand.
“I love you, Hermione,” said Ron, sinking back in his chair, rubbing his eyes wearily.
Hermione turned faintly pink, but merely said, “Don't let Lavender hear you saying that.”
“I won't,” said Ron into his hands. “Or maybe I will, then she'll ditch me.”
“Why don't you ditch her if you want to finish it?” asked Harry.
“You haven't ever chucked anyone, have you?” said Ron. “You and Cho just —”
“Sort of fell apart, yeah,” said Harry.
“Wish that would happen with me and Lavender,” said Ron gloomily, watching Hermione silently tapping each of his misspelled words with the end of her wand, so that
they corrected themselves on the page. “But the more I hint I want to finish it, the tighter she holds on. It's like going out with the giant squid.”
“There,” said Hermione, some twenty minutes later, handing back Ron's essay.
there might be something else, a potion or a spell...”
“You're going about it the wrong way,” said Hermione. “Only you can get the memory, Dumbledore says. That must mean you can persuade Slughorn where other people
can't. It's not a question of slipping him a potion, anyone could do that —”
“How do you spell ‘belligerent'?” said Ron, shaking his quill very hard while staring at his parchment. “It can't be B—U—M —”
“No, it isn't,” said Hermione, pulling Ron's essay toward her. “And ‘augury’ doesn't begin O—R—G either. What kind of quill are you using?”
“It's one of Fred and George's Spell-Checking ones, but I think the charm must be wearing off.”
“Yes, it must,” said Hermione, pointing at the title of his essay, “because we were asked how we'd deal with Dementors, not ‘Dugbogs', and I don't remember you
changing your name to ‘Roonil Wazlib’ either.”
“Ah no!” said Ron, staring horror-struck at the parchment. “Don't say I'll have to write the whole thing out again!”
“It's okay, we can fix it,” said Hermione, pulling the essay toward her and taking out her wand.
“I love you, Hermione,” said Ron, sinking back in his chair, rubbing his eyes wearily.
Hermione turned faintly pink, but merely said, “Don't let Lavender hear you saying that.”
“I won't,” said Ron into his hands. “Or maybe I will, then she'll ditch me.”
“Why don't you ditch her if you want to finish it?” asked Harry.
“You haven't ever chucked anyone, have you?” said Ron. “You and Cho just —”
“Sort of fell apart, yeah,” said Harry.
“Wish that would happen with me and Lavender,” said Ron gloomily, watching Hermione silently tapping each of his misspelled words with the end of her wand, so that
they corrected themselves on the page. “But the more I hint I want to finish it, the tighter she holds on. It's like going out with the giant squid.”
“There,” said Hermione, some twenty minutes later, handing back Ron's essay.
Chapter 21 The Unknowable Room
Chapter 21 The Unknowable Room
Harry wracked his brains over the next week as to how he was to persuade Slughorn to hand over the true memory, but nothing in the nature of a brain wave occurred and
he was reduced to doing what he did increasingly these days when at a loss: poring over his Potions book, hoping that the Prince would have scribbled something useful
in a margin, as he had done so many times before.
“You won't find anything in there,” said Hermione firmly, late on Sunday evening.
“Don't start, Hermione,” said Harry. “If it hadn't been for the Prince, Ron wouldn't be sitting here now.”
“He would if you'd just listened to Snape in our first year,” said Hermione dismissively.
Harry ignored her. He had just found an incantation (Sectumsempra!) scrawled in a margin above the intriguing words “For enemies,” and was itching to try it out, but
thought it best not to in front of Hermione. Instead, he surreptitiously folded down the corner of the page.
They were sitting beside the fire in the common room; the only other people awake were fellow sixth-years. There had been a certain amount of excitement earlier when
they had come back from dinner to find a new sign on the notice board that announced the date for their Apparition Test. Those who would be seventeen on or before the
first test date, the twenty-first of April, had the option of signing up for additional practice sessions, which would take place (heavily supervised) in Hogsmeade.
Ron had panicked on reading this notice; he had still not managed to Apparate and feared he would not be ready for the test. Hermione, who had now achieved Apparition
twice, was a little more confident, but Harry, who would not be seventeen for another four months, could not take the test whether ready or not.
“At least you can Apparate, though!” said Ron tensely. “You'll have no trouble come July!”
“I've only done it once,” Harry reminded him; he had finally managed to disappear and rematerialize inside his hoop during their previous lesson.
Having wasted a lot of time worrying aloud about Apparition, Ron was now struggling to finish a viciously difficult essay for Snape that Harry and Hermione had already
completed. Harry fully expected to receive low marks on his, because he had disagreed with Snape on the best way to tackle Dementors, but he did not care: Slughorn's
memory was the most important thing to him now.
“I'm telling you, the stupid Prince isn't going to be able to help you with this, Harry!” said Hermione, more loudly. “There's only one way to force someone to do
what you want, and that's the Imperius Curse, which is illegal —”
Harry wracked his brains over the next week as to how he was to persuade Slughorn to hand over the true memory, but nothing in the nature of a brain wave occurred and
he was reduced to doing what he did increasingly these days when at a loss: poring over his Potions book, hoping that the Prince would have scribbled something useful
in a margin, as he had done so many times before.
“You won't find anything in there,” said Hermione firmly, late on Sunday evening.
“Don't start, Hermione,” said Harry. “If it hadn't been for the Prince, Ron wouldn't be sitting here now.”
“He would if you'd just listened to Snape in our first year,” said Hermione dismissively.
Harry ignored her. He had just found an incantation (Sectumsempra!) scrawled in a margin above the intriguing words “For enemies,” and was itching to try it out, but
thought it best not to in front of Hermione. Instead, he surreptitiously folded down the corner of the page.
They were sitting beside the fire in the common room; the only other people awake were fellow sixth-years. There had been a certain amount of excitement earlier when
they had come back from dinner to find a new sign on the notice board that announced the date for their Apparition Test. Those who would be seventeen on or before the
first test date, the twenty-first of April, had the option of signing up for additional practice sessions, which would take place (heavily supervised) in Hogsmeade.
Ron had panicked on reading this notice; he had still not managed to Apparate and feared he would not be ready for the test. Hermione, who had now achieved Apparition
twice, was a little more confident, but Harry, who would not be seventeen for another four months, could not take the test whether ready or not.
“At least you can Apparate, though!” said Ron tensely. “You'll have no trouble come July!”
“I've only done it once,” Harry reminded him; he had finally managed to disappear and rematerialize inside his hoop during their previous lesson.
Having wasted a lot of time worrying aloud about Apparition, Ron was now struggling to finish a viciously difficult essay for Snape that Harry and Hermione had already
completed. Harry fully expected to receive low marks on his, because he had disagreed with Snape on the best way to tackle Dementors, but he did not care: Slughorn's
memory was the most important thing to him now.
“I'm telling you, the stupid Prince isn't going to be able to help you with this, Harry!” said Hermione, more loudly. “There's only one way to force someone to do
what you want, and that's the Imperius Curse, which is illegal —”
“Then if I were to go to the Hog's Head tonight
“Then if I were to go to the Hog's Head tonight, I would not find a group of them—Nott, Rosier, Muldber, Dolohov—awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed, to
travel this far with you on a snowy night, merely to wish you luck as you attempted to secure a teaching post.”
There could be no doubt that Dumbledore's detailed knowledge of those with whom he was traveling was even less welcome to Voldemort; however, he rallied almost at once.
“You are omniscient as ever, Dumbledore.”
“Oh no, merely friendly with the local barmen,” said Dumbledore lightly. “Now, Tom...”
Dumbledore set down his empty glass and drew himself up in his seat, the tips of his fingers together in a very characteristic gesture.
“... let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?”
Voldemort looked coldly surprised. “A job I do not want? On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want it very much.”
“Oh, you want to come back to Hogwarts, but you do not want to teach any more than you wanted to when you were eighteen. What is it you're after, Tom? Why not try an
open request for once?”
Voldemort sneered.
“If you do not want to give me a job —”
“Of course I don't,” said Dumbledore. “And I don't think for a moment you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here, you asked, you must have had a purpose.”
Voldemort stood up. He looked less like Tom Riddle than ever, his features thick with rage.
“This is your final word?”
“It is,” said Dumbledore, also standing.
“Then we have nothing more to say to each other.”
“No, nothing,” said Dumbledore, and a great sadness filled his face. “The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make
repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom... I wish I could...”
For a second, Harry was on the verge of shouting a pointless warning: He was sure that Voldemort's hand had twitched toward his pocket and his wand; but then the moment
had passed, Voldemort had turned away, the door was closing, and he was gone.
Harry felt Dumbledore's hand close over his arm again and moments later, they were standing together on almost the same spot, but there was no snow building on the
window ledge, and Dumbledore's hand was blackened and dead-looking once more.
“Why?” said Harry at once, looking up into Dumbledore's face. “Why did he come back? Did you ever find out?”
“I have ideas,” said Dumbledore, “but no more than that.”
“What ideas, sir?”
“I shall tell you, Harry, when you have retrieved that memory from Professor Slughorn,” said Dumbledore.
“When you have that last piece of the jigsaw, everything will, I hope, be clear ... to both of us.”
Harry was still burning with curiosity and even though Dumbledore had walked to the door and was holding it open for him, he did not move at once.
“Was he after the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again, sir? He didn't say...”
“Oh, he definitely wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job,” said Dumbledore. “The aftermath of our little meeting proved that. You see, we have never been able
to keep a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for longer than a year since I refused the post to Lord Voldemort.”
travel this far with you on a snowy night, merely to wish you luck as you attempted to secure a teaching post.”
There could be no doubt that Dumbledore's detailed knowledge of those with whom he was traveling was even less welcome to Voldemort; however, he rallied almost at once.
“You are omniscient as ever, Dumbledore.”
“Oh no, merely friendly with the local barmen,” said Dumbledore lightly. “Now, Tom...”
Dumbledore set down his empty glass and drew himself up in his seat, the tips of his fingers together in a very characteristic gesture.
“... let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?”
Voldemort looked coldly surprised. “A job I do not want? On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want it very much.”
“Oh, you want to come back to Hogwarts, but you do not want to teach any more than you wanted to when you were eighteen. What is it you're after, Tom? Why not try an
open request for once?”
Voldemort sneered.
“If you do not want to give me a job —”
“Of course I don't,” said Dumbledore. “And I don't think for a moment you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here, you asked, you must have had a purpose.”
Voldemort stood up. He looked less like Tom Riddle than ever, his features thick with rage.
“This is your final word?”
“It is,” said Dumbledore, also standing.
“Then we have nothing more to say to each other.”
“No, nothing,” said Dumbledore, and a great sadness filled his face. “The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make
repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom... I wish I could...”
For a second, Harry was on the verge of shouting a pointless warning: He was sure that Voldemort's hand had twitched toward his pocket and his wand; but then the moment
had passed, Voldemort had turned away, the door was closing, and he was gone.
Harry felt Dumbledore's hand close over his arm again and moments later, they were standing together on almost the same spot, but there was no snow building on the
window ledge, and Dumbledore's hand was blackened and dead-looking once more.
“Why?” said Harry at once, looking up into Dumbledore's face. “Why did he come back? Did you ever find out?”
“I have ideas,” said Dumbledore, “but no more than that.”
“What ideas, sir?”
“I shall tell you, Harry, when you have retrieved that memory from Professor Slughorn,” said Dumbledore.
“When you have that last piece of the jigsaw, everything will, I hope, be clear ... to both of us.”
Harry was still burning with curiosity and even though Dumbledore had walked to the door and was holding it open for him, he did not move at once.
“Was he after the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again, sir? He didn't say...”
“Oh, he definitely wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job,” said Dumbledore. “The aftermath of our little meeting proved that. You see, we have never been able
to keep a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for longer than a year since I refused the post to Lord Voldemort.”
Thursday, November 25, 2010
“Yeah, mine!” said Harry.
“Yeah, mine!” said Harry. “I told him at Kings Cross about Malfoy and that thing he was trying to get Borgin to fix! Well, if it's not at their house, he must have
brought whatever it is to Hogwarts with him—”
“But how can he have done, Harry?” said Hermione, putting down the newspaper with a surprised look. “We were all searched when we arrived, weren't we?”
“Were you?” said Harry, taken aback. “I wasn't!”
“Oh no, of course you weren't, I forgot you were late. Well, Filch ran over all of us with Secrecy Sensors when we got into the entrance hall. Any Dark object would
have been found, I know for a fact Crabbe had a shrunken head confiscated. So you see, Malfoy can't have brought in anything dangerous!”
Momentarily stymied, Harry watched Ginny Weasley playing with Arnold the Pygmy Puff for a while before seeing a way around this objection.
“Someone's sent it to him by owl, then,” he said. “His mother or someone.”
“All the owls are being checked too,” said Hermione. “Filch told us so when he was jabbing those Secrecy Sensors everywhere he could reach.”
Really stumped this time, Harry found nothing else to say. There did not seem to be any way Malfoy could have brought a dangerous or Dark object into the school. He
looked hopefully at Ron, who was sitting with his arms folded, staring over at Lavender Brown.
“Can you think of any way Malfoy — ?”
“Oh, drop it, Harry,” said Ron.
“Listen, it's not my fault Slughorn invited Hermione and me to his stupid party, neither of us wanted to go, you know!” said Harry, firing up.
“Well, as I'm not invited to any parties,” said Ron, getting to his feet again, “I think I'll go to bed.”
He stomped off toward the door to the boys’ dormitories, leaving Harry and Hermione staring after him.
“Harry?” said the new Chaser, Demelza Robins, appearing suddenly at his shoulder. “I've got a message for you.”
“From Professor Slughorn?” asked Harry, sitting up hopefully.
“No ... from Professor Snape,” said Demelza. Harry's heart sank. “He says you're to come to his office at half past eight tonight to do your detention—er—no matter
how many party invitations you've received. And he wanted you to know you'll be sorting out rotten flobberworms from good ones, to use in Potions and—and he says
there's no need to bring protective gloves.”
“Right,” said Harry grimly. “Thanks a lot, Demelza.”
brought whatever it is to Hogwarts with him—”
“But how can he have done, Harry?” said Hermione, putting down the newspaper with a surprised look. “We were all searched when we arrived, weren't we?”
“Were you?” said Harry, taken aback. “I wasn't!”
“Oh no, of course you weren't, I forgot you were late. Well, Filch ran over all of us with Secrecy Sensors when we got into the entrance hall. Any Dark object would
have been found, I know for a fact Crabbe had a shrunken head confiscated. So you see, Malfoy can't have brought in anything dangerous!”
Momentarily stymied, Harry watched Ginny Weasley playing with Arnold the Pygmy Puff for a while before seeing a way around this objection.
“Someone's sent it to him by owl, then,” he said. “His mother or someone.”
“All the owls are being checked too,” said Hermione. “Filch told us so when he was jabbing those Secrecy Sensors everywhere he could reach.”
Really stumped this time, Harry found nothing else to say. There did not seem to be any way Malfoy could have brought a dangerous or Dark object into the school. He
looked hopefully at Ron, who was sitting with his arms folded, staring over at Lavender Brown.
“Can you think of any way Malfoy — ?”
“Oh, drop it, Harry,” said Ron.
“Listen, it's not my fault Slughorn invited Hermione and me to his stupid party, neither of us wanted to go, you know!” said Harry, firing up.
“Well, as I'm not invited to any parties,” said Ron, getting to his feet again, “I think I'll go to bed.”
He stomped off toward the door to the boys’ dormitories, leaving Harry and Hermione staring after him.
“Harry?” said the new Chaser, Demelza Robins, appearing suddenly at his shoulder. “I've got a message for you.”
“From Professor Slughorn?” asked Harry, sitting up hopefully.
“No ... from Professor Snape,” said Demelza. Harry's heart sank. “He says you're to come to his office at half past eight tonight to do your detention—er—no matter
how many party invitations you've received. And he wanted you to know you'll be sorting out rotten flobberworms from good ones, to use in Potions and—and he says
there's no need to bring protective gloves.”
“Right,” said Harry grimly. “Thanks a lot, Demelza.”
As they came into the castle they spotted
As they came into the castle they spotted Cormac McLaggen entering the Great Hall. It took him two attempts to get through the doors; he ricocheted off the frame on the
first attempt. Ron merely guffawed gloatingly and strode off into the Hall after him, but Harry caught Hermione's arm and held her back.
“What?” said Hermione defensively.
“If you ask me,” said Harry quietly, “McLaggen looks like he was Confunded this morning. And he was standing right in front of where you were sitting.”
Hermione blushed.
“Oh, all right then, I did it,” she whispered. “But you should have heard the way he was talking about Ron and Ginny! Anyway, he's got a nasty temper, you saw how he
reacted when he didn't get in—you wouldn't have wanted someone like that on the team.”
“No,” said Harry. “No, I suppose that's true. But wasn't that dishonest, Hermione? I mean, you're a prefect, aren't you?”
“Oh, be quiet,” she snapped, as he smirked.
“What are you two doing?” demanded Ron, reappearing in the doorway to the Great Hall and looking suspicious.
“Nothing,” said Harry and Hermione together, and they hurried after Ron. The smell of roast beef made Harry's stomach ache with hunger, but they had barely taken
three steps toward the Gryffindor table when Professor Slughorn appeared in front of them, blocking their path.
“Harry, Harry, just the man I was hoping to see!” he boomed genially, twiddling the ends of his walrus mustache and puffing out his enormous belly, “I was hoping to
catch you before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my rooms instead? We're having a little party, just a few rising stars, I've got McLaggen coming
and Zabini, the charming Melinda Bobbin—I don't know whether you know her? Her family owns a large chain of apothecaries—and, of course, I hope very much that Miss
Granger will favor me by coming too.”
Slughorn made Hermione a little bow as he finished speaking. It was as though Ron was not present; Slughorn did not so much as look at him.
“I can't come, Professor,” said Harry at once. “I've got a detention with Professor Snape.”
“Oh dear!” said Slughorn, his face falling comically. “Dear, dear, I was counting on you, Harry! Well, now, I'll just have to have a word with Severus and explain
the situation. I'm sure I'll be able to persuade him to postpone your detention. Yes, I'll see you both later!”
He bustled away out of the Hall.
“He's got no chance of persuading Snape,” said Harry, the moment Slughorn was out of earshot. “This detention's already been postponed once; Snape did it for
Dumbledore, but he won't do it for anyone else.”
“Oh, I wish you could come, I don't want to go on my own!” said Hermione anxiously; Harry knew that she was thinking about McLaggen.
“I doubt you'll be alone, Ginny'll probably be invited,” snapped Ron, who did not seem to have taken kindly to being ignored by Slughorn.
After dinner they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. The common room was very crowded, as most people had finished dinner by now, but they managed to find a free
table and sat down; Ron, who had been in a bad mood ever since the encounter with Slughorn, folded his arms and frowned at the ceiling. Hermione reached out for a copy
of the Evening Prophet, which somebody had left abandoned on a chair.
“Anything new?” said Harry.
“Not really...” Hermione had opened the newspaper and was scanning the inside pages. “Oh, look, your dad's in here, Ron—he's all right!” she added quickly, for Ron
had looked around in alarm. “It just says he's been to visit the Malfoys’ house. ‘This second search of the Death Eaters residence does not seem to have yielded any
results. Arthur Weasley of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects said that his team had been acting upon
a confidential tip-off.’”
first attempt. Ron merely guffawed gloatingly and strode off into the Hall after him, but Harry caught Hermione's arm and held her back.
“What?” said Hermione defensively.
“If you ask me,” said Harry quietly, “McLaggen looks like he was Confunded this morning. And he was standing right in front of where you were sitting.”
Hermione blushed.
“Oh, all right then, I did it,” she whispered. “But you should have heard the way he was talking about Ron and Ginny! Anyway, he's got a nasty temper, you saw how he
reacted when he didn't get in—you wouldn't have wanted someone like that on the team.”
“No,” said Harry. “No, I suppose that's true. But wasn't that dishonest, Hermione? I mean, you're a prefect, aren't you?”
“Oh, be quiet,” she snapped, as he smirked.
“What are you two doing?” demanded Ron, reappearing in the doorway to the Great Hall and looking suspicious.
“Nothing,” said Harry and Hermione together, and they hurried after Ron. The smell of roast beef made Harry's stomach ache with hunger, but they had barely taken
three steps toward the Gryffindor table when Professor Slughorn appeared in front of them, blocking their path.
“Harry, Harry, just the man I was hoping to see!” he boomed genially, twiddling the ends of his walrus mustache and puffing out his enormous belly, “I was hoping to
catch you before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my rooms instead? We're having a little party, just a few rising stars, I've got McLaggen coming
and Zabini, the charming Melinda Bobbin—I don't know whether you know her? Her family owns a large chain of apothecaries—and, of course, I hope very much that Miss
Granger will favor me by coming too.”
Slughorn made Hermione a little bow as he finished speaking. It was as though Ron was not present; Slughorn did not so much as look at him.
“I can't come, Professor,” said Harry at once. “I've got a detention with Professor Snape.”
“Oh dear!” said Slughorn, his face falling comically. “Dear, dear, I was counting on you, Harry! Well, now, I'll just have to have a word with Severus and explain
the situation. I'm sure I'll be able to persuade him to postpone your detention. Yes, I'll see you both later!”
He bustled away out of the Hall.
“He's got no chance of persuading Snape,” said Harry, the moment Slughorn was out of earshot. “This detention's already been postponed once; Snape did it for
Dumbledore, but he won't do it for anyone else.”
“Oh, I wish you could come, I don't want to go on my own!” said Hermione anxiously; Harry knew that she was thinking about McLaggen.
“I doubt you'll be alone, Ginny'll probably be invited,” snapped Ron, who did not seem to have taken kindly to being ignored by Slughorn.
After dinner they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. The common room was very crowded, as most people had finished dinner by now, but they managed to find a free
table and sat down; Ron, who had been in a bad mood ever since the encounter with Slughorn, folded his arms and frowned at the ceiling. Hermione reached out for a copy
of the Evening Prophet, which somebody had left abandoned on a chair.
“Anything new?” said Harry.
“Not really...” Hermione had opened the newspaper and was scanning the inside pages. “Oh, look, your dad's in here, Ron—he's all right!” she added quickly, for Ron
had looked around in alarm. “It just says he's been to visit the Malfoys’ house. ‘This second search of the Death Eaters residence does not seem to have yielded any
results. Arthur Weasley of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects said that his team had been acting upon
a confidential tip-off.’”
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
"Present me to your new friends,
"Present me to your new friends," he said to his daughter, squeezing her hand with his elbow. "I like even your horrid Soden for making you so well again. Only it's melancholy, very melancholy here. Who's that?"
Kitty mentioned the names of all the people they met, with some of whom she was acquainted and some not. At the entrance of the garden they met the blind lady, Madame Berthe, with her guide, and the prince was delighted to see the old Frenchwoman's face light up when she heard Kitty's voice. She at once began talking to him with French exaggerated politeness, applauding him for having such a delightful daughter, extolling Kitty to the skies before her face, and calling her a treasure, a pearl, and a consoling angel.
"Well, she's the second angel, then," said the prince, smiling. "she calls Mademoiselle Varenka angel number one."
"Oh! Mademoiselle Varenka, she's a real angel, allez," Madame Berthe assented.
In the arcade they met Varenka herself. She was walking rapidly towards them carrying an elegant red bag.
"Here is papa come," Kitty said to her.
Varenka made--simply and naturally as she did everything--a movement between a bow and curtsey, and immediately began talking to the prince, without shyness, naturally, as she talked to everyone.
"Of course I know you; I know you very well," the prince said to her with a smile, in which Kitty detected with joy that her father liked her friend. "Where are you off to in such haste?"
"Maman's here," she said, turning to Kitty. "She has not slept all night, and the doctor advised her to go out. I'm taking her her work."
"So that's angel number one?" said the prince when Varenka had gone on.
Kitty saw that her father had meant to make fun of Varenka, but that he could not do it because he liked her.
"Come, so we shall see all your friends," he went on, "even Madame Stahl, if she deigns to recognize me."
"Why, did you know her, papa?" Kitty asked apprehensively, catching the gleam of irony that kindled in the prince's eyes at the mention of Madame Stahl.
"I used to know her husband, and her too a little, before she'd joined the Pietists."
"What is a Pietist, papa?" asked Kitty, dismayed to find that what she prized so highly in Madame Stahl had a name.
"I don't quite know myself. I only know that she thanks God for everything, for every misfortune, and thanks God too that her husband died. And that's rather droll, as they didn't get on together."
"Who's that? What a piteous face!" he asked, noticing a sick man of medium height sitting on a bench, wearing a brown overcoat and white trousers that fell in strange folds about his long, fleshless legs. This man lifted his straw hat, showed his scanty curly hair and high forehead, painfully reddened by the pressure of the hat.
"That's Petrov, an artist," answered Kitty, blushing. "And that's his wife," she added, indicating Anna Pavlovna, who, as though on purpose, at the very instant they approached walked away after a child that had run off along a path.
"Poor fellow! and what a nice face he has!" said the prince. "Why don't you go up to him? He wanted to speak to you."
"Well, let us go, then," said Kitty, turning round resolutely. "How are you feeling today?" she asked Petrov.
Petrov got up, leaning on his stick, and looked shyly at the prince.
"This is my daughter," said the prince. "Let me introduce myself."
The painter bowed and smiled, showing his strangely dazzling white teeth.
"We expected you yesterday, princess," he said to Kitty. He staggered as he said this, and then repeated the motion, trying to make it seem as if it had been intentional.
"I meant to come, but Varenka said that Anna Pavlovna sent word you were not going."
"Not going!" said Petrov, blushing, and immediately beginning to cough, and his eyes sought his wife. "Anita! Anita!" he said loudly, and the swollen veins stood out like cords on his thin white neck.
Anna Pavlovna came up.
"So you sent word to the princess that we weren't going!" he whispered to her angrily, losing his voice.
"Good morning, princess," said Anna Pavlovna, with an assumed smile utterly unlike her former manner. "Very glad to make your acquaintance," she said to the prince. "You've long been expected, prince."
"What did you send word to the princess that we weren't going for?" the artist whispered hoarsely once more, still more angrily, obviously exasperated that his voice failed him so that he could not give his words the expression he would have liked to.
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Kitty mentioned the names of all the people they met, with some of whom she was acquainted and some not. At the entrance of the garden they met the blind lady, Madame Berthe, with her guide, and the prince was delighted to see the old Frenchwoman's face light up when she heard Kitty's voice. She at once began talking to him with French exaggerated politeness, applauding him for having such a delightful daughter, extolling Kitty to the skies before her face, and calling her a treasure, a pearl, and a consoling angel.
"Well, she's the second angel, then," said the prince, smiling. "she calls Mademoiselle Varenka angel number one."
"Oh! Mademoiselle Varenka, she's a real angel, allez," Madame Berthe assented.
In the arcade they met Varenka herself. She was walking rapidly towards them carrying an elegant red bag.
"Here is papa come," Kitty said to her.
Varenka made--simply and naturally as she did everything--a movement between a bow and curtsey, and immediately began talking to the prince, without shyness, naturally, as she talked to everyone.
"Of course I know you; I know you very well," the prince said to her with a smile, in which Kitty detected with joy that her father liked her friend. "Where are you off to in such haste?"
"Maman's here," she said, turning to Kitty. "She has not slept all night, and the doctor advised her to go out. I'm taking her her work."
"So that's angel number one?" said the prince when Varenka had gone on.
Kitty saw that her father had meant to make fun of Varenka, but that he could not do it because he liked her.
"Come, so we shall see all your friends," he went on, "even Madame Stahl, if she deigns to recognize me."
"Why, did you know her, papa?" Kitty asked apprehensively, catching the gleam of irony that kindled in the prince's eyes at the mention of Madame Stahl.
"I used to know her husband, and her too a little, before she'd joined the Pietists."
"What is a Pietist, papa?" asked Kitty, dismayed to find that what she prized so highly in Madame Stahl had a name.
"I don't quite know myself. I only know that she thanks God for everything, for every misfortune, and thanks God too that her husband died. And that's rather droll, as they didn't get on together."
"Who's that? What a piteous face!" he asked, noticing a sick man of medium height sitting on a bench, wearing a brown overcoat and white trousers that fell in strange folds about his long, fleshless legs. This man lifted his straw hat, showed his scanty curly hair and high forehead, painfully reddened by the pressure of the hat.
"That's Petrov, an artist," answered Kitty, blushing. "And that's his wife," she added, indicating Anna Pavlovna, who, as though on purpose, at the very instant they approached walked away after a child that had run off along a path.
"Poor fellow! and what a nice face he has!" said the prince. "Why don't you go up to him? He wanted to speak to you."
"Well, let us go, then," said Kitty, turning round resolutely. "How are you feeling today?" she asked Petrov.
Petrov got up, leaning on his stick, and looked shyly at the prince.
"This is my daughter," said the prince. "Let me introduce myself."
The painter bowed and smiled, showing his strangely dazzling white teeth.
"We expected you yesterday, princess," he said to Kitty. He staggered as he said this, and then repeated the motion, trying to make it seem as if it had been intentional.
"I meant to come, but Varenka said that Anna Pavlovna sent word you were not going."
"Not going!" said Petrov, blushing, and immediately beginning to cough, and his eyes sought his wife. "Anita! Anita!" he said loudly, and the swollen veins stood out like cords on his thin white neck.
Anna Pavlovna came up.
"So you sent word to the princess that we weren't going!" he whispered to her angrily, losing his voice.
"Good morning, princess," said Anna Pavlovna, with an assumed smile utterly unlike her former manner. "Very glad to make your acquaintance," she said to the prince. "You've long been expected, prince."
"What did you send word to the princess that we weren't going for?" the artist whispered hoarsely once more, still more angrily, obviously exasperated that his voice failed him so that he could not give his words the expression he would have liked to.
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Monday, November 22, 2010
Chapter 32
Chapter 32
The first person to meet Anna at home was her son. He dashed down the stairs to her, in spite of the governess's call, and with desperate joy shrieked: "Mother! mother!" Running up to her, he hung on her neck.
"I told you it was mother!" he shouted to the governess. "I knew!"
And her son, like her husband, aroused in Anna a feeling akin to disappointment. She had imagined him better than he was in reality. She had to let herself drop down to the reality to enjoy him as he really was. But even as he was, he was charming, with his fair curls, his blue eyes, and his plump, graceful little legs in tightly pulled-up stockings. Anna experienced almost physical pleasure in the sensation of his nearness, and his caresses, and moral soothing, when she met his simple, confiding, and loving glance, and heard his naive questions. Anna took out the presents Dolly's children had sent him, and told her son what sort of little girl was Tanya at Moscow, and how Tanya could read, and even taught the other children.
"Why, am I not so nice as she?" asked Seryozha.
To me you're nicer than anyone in the world."
"I know that," said Seryozha, smiling.
Anna had not had time to drink her coffee when the Countess Lidia Ivanovna was announced. The Countess Lidia Ivanovna was a tall, stout woman, with an unhealthily sallow face and splendid, pensive black eyes. Anna liked her, but today she seemed to be seeing her for the first time with all her defects.
"Well, my dear, so you took the olive branch?" inquired Countess Lidia Ivanovna, as soon as she came into the room.
"Yes, it's all over, but it was all much less serious than we had supposed," answered Anna. "My belle-soeur is in general too hasty."
But Countess Lidia Ivanovna, though she was interested in everything that did not concern her, had a habit of never listening to what interested her; she interrupted Anna:
"Yes, there's plenty of sorrow and evil in the world. I am so worried today."
"Oh, why?" asked Anna, trying to suppress a smile.
"I'm beginning to be weary of fruitlessly championing the truth, and sometimes I'm quite unhinged by it. The Society of the Little Sisters" (this was a religiously-patriotic, philanthropic institution) "was going splendidly, but with these gentlemen it's impossible to do anything," added Countess Lidia Ivanovna in a tone of ironical submission to destiny. "They pounce on the idea, and distort it, and then work it out so pettily and unworthily. Two or three people, your husband among them, understand all the importance of the thing, but the others simply drag it down. Yesterday Pravdin wrote to me..."
Pravdin was a well-known Panslavist abroad, and Countess Lidia Ivanovna described the purport of his letter.
The first person to meet Anna at home was her son. He dashed down the stairs to her, in spite of the governess's call, and with desperate joy shrieked: "Mother! mother!" Running up to her, he hung on her neck.
"I told you it was mother!" he shouted to the governess. "I knew!"
And her son, like her husband, aroused in Anna a feeling akin to disappointment. She had imagined him better than he was in reality. She had to let herself drop down to the reality to enjoy him as he really was. But even as he was, he was charming, with his fair curls, his blue eyes, and his plump, graceful little legs in tightly pulled-up stockings. Anna experienced almost physical pleasure in the sensation of his nearness, and his caresses, and moral soothing, when she met his simple, confiding, and loving glance, and heard his naive questions. Anna took out the presents Dolly's children had sent him, and told her son what sort of little girl was Tanya at Moscow, and how Tanya could read, and even taught the other children.
"Why, am I not so nice as she?" asked Seryozha.
To me you're nicer than anyone in the world."
"I know that," said Seryozha, smiling.
Anna had not had time to drink her coffee when the Countess Lidia Ivanovna was announced. The Countess Lidia Ivanovna was a tall, stout woman, with an unhealthily sallow face and splendid, pensive black eyes. Anna liked her, but today she seemed to be seeing her for the first time with all her defects.
"Well, my dear, so you took the olive branch?" inquired Countess Lidia Ivanovna, as soon as she came into the room.
"Yes, it's all over, but it was all much less serious than we had supposed," answered Anna. "My belle-soeur is in general too hasty."
But Countess Lidia Ivanovna, though she was interested in everything that did not concern her, had a habit of never listening to what interested her; she interrupted Anna:
"Yes, there's plenty of sorrow and evil in the world. I am so worried today."
"Oh, why?" asked Anna, trying to suppress a smile.
"I'm beginning to be weary of fruitlessly championing the truth, and sometimes I'm quite unhinged by it. The Society of the Little Sisters" (this was a religiously-patriotic, philanthropic institution) "was going splendidly, but with these gentlemen it's impossible to do anything," added Countess Lidia Ivanovna in a tone of ironical submission to destiny. "They pounce on the idea, and distort it, and then work it out so pettily and unworthily. Two or three people, your husband among them, understand all the importance of the thing, but the others simply drag it down. Yesterday Pravdin wrote to me..."
Pravdin was a well-known Panslavist abroad, and Countess Lidia Ivanovna described the purport of his letter.
At the moment when he was approaching
At the moment when he was approaching Anna Arkadyevna he noticed too with joy that she was conscious of his being near, and looked round, and seeing him, turned again to her husband.
"Have you passed a good night?" he asked, bowing to her and her husband together, and leaving it up to Alexey Alexandrovitch to accept the bow on his own account, and to recognize it or not, as he might see fit.
"Thank you, very good," she answered.
Her face looked weary, and there was not that play of eagerness in it, peeping out in her smile and her eyes; but for a single instant, as she glanced at him, there was a flash of something in her eyes, and although the flash died away at once, he was happy for that moment. She glanced at her husband to find out whether he knew Vronsky. Alexey Alexandrovitch looked at Vronsky with displeasure, vaguely recalling who this was. Vronsky's composure and self-confidence have struck, like a scythe against a stone, upon the cold self-confidence of Alexey Alexandrovitch.
"Count Vronsky," said Anna.
"Ah! We are acquainted, I believe," said Alexey Alexandrovitch indifferently, giving his hand.
"You set off with the mother and you return with the son," he said, articulating each syllable, as though each were a separate favor he was bestowing.
"You're back from leave, I suppose?" he said, and without waiting for a reply, he turned to his wife in his jesting tone: "Well, were a great many tears shed at Moscow at parting?"
By addressing his wife like this he gave Vronsky to understand that he wished to be left alone, and, turning slightly towards him, he touched his hat; but Vronsky turned to Anna Arkadyevna.
"I hope I may have the honor of calling on you," he said.
Alexey Alexandrovitch glanced with his weary eyes at Vronsky.
"Delighted," he said coldly. "On Mondays we're at home. Most fortunate," he said to his wife, dismissing Vronsky altogether, "that I should just have half an hour to meet you, so that I can prove my devotion," he went on in the same jesting tone.
"You lay too much stress on your devotion for me to value it much," she responded in the same jesting tone, involuntarily listening to the sound of Vronsky's steps behind them. "But what has it to do with me?" she said to herself, and she began asking her husband how Seryozha had got on without her.
"Oh, capitally! Mariette says he has been very good, And...I must disappoint you...but he has not missed you as your husband has. But once more merci, my dear, for giving me a day. Our dear Samovar will be delighted." (He used to call the Countess Lidia Ivanovna, well known in society, a samovar, because she was always bubbling over with excitement.) "She has been continually asking after you. And, do you know, if I may venture to advise you, you should go and see her today. You know how she takes everything to heart. Just now, with all her own cares, she's anxious about the Oblonskys being brought together."
The Countess Lidia Ivanovna was a friend of her husband's, and the center of that one of the coteries of the Petersburg world with which Anna was, through her husband, in the closest relations.
"But you know I wrote to her?"
"Still she'll want to hear details. Go and see her, if you're not too tired, my dear. Well, Kondraty will take you in the carriage, while I go to my committee. I shall not be alone at dinner again," Alexey Alexandrovitch went on, no longer in a sarcastic tone. "You wouldn't believe how I've missed..." And with a long pressure of her hand and a meaning smile, he put her in her carriage.
"Have you passed a good night?" he asked, bowing to her and her husband together, and leaving it up to Alexey Alexandrovitch to accept the bow on his own account, and to recognize it or not, as he might see fit.
"Thank you, very good," she answered.
Her face looked weary, and there was not that play of eagerness in it, peeping out in her smile and her eyes; but for a single instant, as she glanced at him, there was a flash of something in her eyes, and although the flash died away at once, he was happy for that moment. She glanced at her husband to find out whether he knew Vronsky. Alexey Alexandrovitch looked at Vronsky with displeasure, vaguely recalling who this was. Vronsky's composure and self-confidence have struck, like a scythe against a stone, upon the cold self-confidence of Alexey Alexandrovitch.
"Count Vronsky," said Anna.
"Ah! We are acquainted, I believe," said Alexey Alexandrovitch indifferently, giving his hand.
"You set off with the mother and you return with the son," he said, articulating each syllable, as though each were a separate favor he was bestowing.
"You're back from leave, I suppose?" he said, and without waiting for a reply, he turned to his wife in his jesting tone: "Well, were a great many tears shed at Moscow at parting?"
By addressing his wife like this he gave Vronsky to understand that he wished to be left alone, and, turning slightly towards him, he touched his hat; but Vronsky turned to Anna Arkadyevna.
"I hope I may have the honor of calling on you," he said.
Alexey Alexandrovitch glanced with his weary eyes at Vronsky.
"Delighted," he said coldly. "On Mondays we're at home. Most fortunate," he said to his wife, dismissing Vronsky altogether, "that I should just have half an hour to meet you, so that I can prove my devotion," he went on in the same jesting tone.
"You lay too much stress on your devotion for me to value it much," she responded in the same jesting tone, involuntarily listening to the sound of Vronsky's steps behind them. "But what has it to do with me?" she said to herself, and she began asking her husband how Seryozha had got on without her.
"Oh, capitally! Mariette says he has been very good, And...I must disappoint you...but he has not missed you as your husband has. But once more merci, my dear, for giving me a day. Our dear Samovar will be delighted." (He used to call the Countess Lidia Ivanovna, well known in society, a samovar, because she was always bubbling over with excitement.) "She has been continually asking after you. And, do you know, if I may venture to advise you, you should go and see her today. You know how she takes everything to heart. Just now, with all her own cares, she's anxious about the Oblonskys being brought together."
The Countess Lidia Ivanovna was a friend of her husband's, and the center of that one of the coteries of the Petersburg world with which Anna was, through her husband, in the closest relations.
"But you know I wrote to her?"
"Still she'll want to hear details. Go and see her, if you're not too tired, my dear. Well, Kondraty will take you in the carriage, while I go to my committee. I shall not be alone at dinner again," Alexey Alexandrovitch went on, no longer in a sarcastic tone. "You wouldn't believe how I've missed..." And with a long pressure of her hand and a meaning smile, he put her in her carriage.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
‘But I didn't,’ muttered Harry.
‘But I didn't,’ muttered Harry. He said it aloud to try and ease the dead weight of guilt inside him: a confession must surely relieve some of the terrible pressure squeezing his heart. ‘I didn't practise, I didn't bother, I could've stopped myself having those dreams, Hermione kept telling me to do it, if I had he'd never have been able to show me where to go, and—Sirius wouldn't—Sirius wouldn't—’
Something was erupting inside Harry's head: a need to justify himself, to explain—
‘I tried to check he'd really taken Sirius, I went to Umbridge's office, I spoke to Kreacher in the fire and he said Sirius wasn't there, he said he'd gone!’
‘Kreacher lied,’ said Dumbledore calmly. ‘You are not his master, he could lie to you without even needing to punish himself. Kreacher intended you to go to the Ministry of Magic.’
‘He—he sent me on purpose?’
‘Oh yes. Kreacher, I am afraid, has been serving more than one master for months.’
‘How?’ said Harry blankly. ‘He hasn't been out of Grimmauld Place for years.’
‘Kreacher seized his opportunity shortly before Christmas,’ said Dumbledore, ‘when Sirius, apparently, shouted at him to “get out". He took Sirius at his word, and interpreted this as an order to leave the house. He went to the only Black family member for whom he had any respect left ... Black's cousin Narcissa, sister of Bellatrix and wife of Lucius Malfoy.’
‘How do you know all this?’ Harry said. His heart was beating very fast. He felt sick. He remembered worrying about Kreacher's odd absence over Christmas, remembered him turning up again in the attic ...
‘Kreacher told me last night,’ said Dumbledore. ‘You see, when you gave Professor Snape that cryptic warning, he realised that you had had a vision of Sirius trapped in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries. He, like you, attempted to contact Sirius at once. I should explain that members of the Order of the Phoenix have more reliable methods of communicating than the fire in Dolores Umbridge's office. Professor Snape found that Sirius was alive and safe in Grimmauld Place.
‘When, however, you did not return from your trip into the Forest with Dolores Umbridge, Professor Snape grew worried that you still believed Sirius to be a captive of Lord Voldemort's. He alerted certain Order members at once.’
Dumbledore heaved a great sigh and continued, ‘Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Remus Lupin were at Headquarters when he made contact. All agreed to go to your aid at once. Professor Snape requested that Sirius remain behind, as he needed somebody to remain at Headquarters to tell me what had happened, for I was due there at any moment. In the meantime he, Professor Snape, intended to search the Forest for you.
‘But Sirius did not wish to remain behind while the others went to search for you. He delegated to Kreacher the task of telling me what had happened. And so it was that when I arrived in Grimmauld Place shortly after they had all left for the Ministry, it was the elf who told me—laughing fit to burst—where Sirius had gone.’
‘He was laughing?’ said Harry in a hollow voice.
Something was erupting inside Harry's head: a need to justify himself, to explain—
‘I tried to check he'd really taken Sirius, I went to Umbridge's office, I spoke to Kreacher in the fire and he said Sirius wasn't there, he said he'd gone!’
‘Kreacher lied,’ said Dumbledore calmly. ‘You are not his master, he could lie to you without even needing to punish himself. Kreacher intended you to go to the Ministry of Magic.’
‘He—he sent me on purpose?’
‘Oh yes. Kreacher, I am afraid, has been serving more than one master for months.’
‘How?’ said Harry blankly. ‘He hasn't been out of Grimmauld Place for years.’
‘Kreacher seized his opportunity shortly before Christmas,’ said Dumbledore, ‘when Sirius, apparently, shouted at him to “get out". He took Sirius at his word, and interpreted this as an order to leave the house. He went to the only Black family member for whom he had any respect left ... Black's cousin Narcissa, sister of Bellatrix and wife of Lucius Malfoy.’
‘How do you know all this?’ Harry said. His heart was beating very fast. He felt sick. He remembered worrying about Kreacher's odd absence over Christmas, remembered him turning up again in the attic ...
‘Kreacher told me last night,’ said Dumbledore. ‘You see, when you gave Professor Snape that cryptic warning, he realised that you had had a vision of Sirius trapped in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries. He, like you, attempted to contact Sirius at once. I should explain that members of the Order of the Phoenix have more reliable methods of communicating than the fire in Dolores Umbridge's office. Professor Snape found that Sirius was alive and safe in Grimmauld Place.
‘When, however, you did not return from your trip into the Forest with Dolores Umbridge, Professor Snape grew worried that you still believed Sirius to be a captive of Lord Voldemort's. He alerted certain Order members at once.’
Dumbledore heaved a great sigh and continued, ‘Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Remus Lupin were at Headquarters when he made contact. All agreed to go to your aid at once. Professor Snape requested that Sirius remain behind, as he needed somebody to remain at Headquarters to tell me what had happened, for I was due there at any moment. In the meantime he, Professor Snape, intended to search the Forest for you.
‘But Sirius did not wish to remain behind while the others went to search for you. He delegated to Kreacher the task of telling me what had happened. And so it was that when I arrived in Grimmauld Place shortly after they had all left for the Ministry, it was the elf who told me—laughing fit to burst—where Sirius had gone.’
‘He was laughing?’ said Harry in a hollow voice.
‘Yeah,’ Harry mumbled. ‘Yeah, I wondered.’
‘You see,’ Dumbledore continued, ‘I believed it could not be long before Voldemort attempted to force his way into your mind, to manipulate and misdirect your thoughts, and I was not eager to give him more incentives to do so. I was sure that if he realised that our relationship was—or had ever been—closer than that of headmaster and pupil, he would seize his chance to use you as a means to spy on me. I feared the uses to which he would put you, the possibility that he might try and possess you. Harry, I believe I was right to think that Voldemort would have made use of you in such a way. On those rare occasions when we had close contact, I thought I saw a shadow of him stir behind your eyes ...’
Harry remembered the feeling that a dormant snake had risen in him, ready to strike, in those moments when he and Dumbledore had made eye-contact.
‘Voldemort's aim in possessing you, as he demonstrated tonight, would not have been my destruction. It would have been yours. He hoped, when he possessed you briefly a short while ago, that I would sacrifice you in the hope of killing him. So you see, I have been trying, in distancing myself from you, to protect you, Harry. An old man s mistake ...’
He sighed deeply. Harry was letting the words wash over him. He would have been so interested to know all this a few months ago, but now it was meaningless compared to the gaping chasm inside him that was the loss of Sirius; none of it mattered ...
‘Sirius told me you felt Voldemort awake inside you the very night that you had the vision of Arthur Weasley's attack. I knew at once that my worst fears were correct: Voldemort had realised he could use you. In an attempt to arm you against Voldemort's assaults on your mind, I arranged Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape.’
He paused. Harry watched the sunlight, which was sliding slowly across the polished surface of Dumbledore's desk, illuminate a silver ink pot and a handsome scarlet quill. Harry could tell that the portraits all around them were awake and listening raptly to Dumbledore's explanation; he could hear the occasional rustle of robes, the slight clearing of a throat. Phineas Nigellus had still not returned ...
‘Professor Snape discovered,’ Dumbledore resumed, ‘that you had been dreaming about the door to the Department of Mysteries for months. Voldemort, of course, had been obsessed with the possibility of hearing the prophecy ever since he regained his body; and as he dwelled on the door, so did you, though you did not know what it meant.
‘And then you saw Rookwood, who worked in the Department of Mysteries before his arrest, telling Voldemort what we had known all along—that the prophecies held in the Ministry of Magic are heavily protected. Only the people to whom they refer can lift them from the shelves without suffering madness: in this case, either Voldemort himself would have to enter the Ministry of Magic, and risk revealing himself at last—or else you would have to take it for him. It became a matter of even greater urgency that you should master Occlumency.’
Harry remembered the feeling that a dormant snake had risen in him, ready to strike, in those moments when he and Dumbledore had made eye-contact.
‘Voldemort's aim in possessing you, as he demonstrated tonight, would not have been my destruction. It would have been yours. He hoped, when he possessed you briefly a short while ago, that I would sacrifice you in the hope of killing him. So you see, I have been trying, in distancing myself from you, to protect you, Harry. An old man s mistake ...’
He sighed deeply. Harry was letting the words wash over him. He would have been so interested to know all this a few months ago, but now it was meaningless compared to the gaping chasm inside him that was the loss of Sirius; none of it mattered ...
‘Sirius told me you felt Voldemort awake inside you the very night that you had the vision of Arthur Weasley's attack. I knew at once that my worst fears were correct: Voldemort had realised he could use you. In an attempt to arm you against Voldemort's assaults on your mind, I arranged Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape.’
He paused. Harry watched the sunlight, which was sliding slowly across the polished surface of Dumbledore's desk, illuminate a silver ink pot and a handsome scarlet quill. Harry could tell that the portraits all around them were awake and listening raptly to Dumbledore's explanation; he could hear the occasional rustle of robes, the slight clearing of a throat. Phineas Nigellus had still not returned ...
‘Professor Snape discovered,’ Dumbledore resumed, ‘that you had been dreaming about the door to the Department of Mysteries for months. Voldemort, of course, had been obsessed with the possibility of hearing the prophecy ever since he regained his body; and as he dwelled on the door, so did you, though you did not know what it meant.
‘And then you saw Rookwood, who worked in the Department of Mysteries before his arrest, telling Voldemort what we had known all along—that the prophecies held in the Ministry of Magic are heavily protected. Only the people to whom they refer can lift them from the shelves without suffering madness: in this case, either Voldemort himself would have to enter the Ministry of Magic, and risk revealing himself at last—or else you would have to take it for him. It became a matter of even greater urgency that you should master Occlumency.’
‘Yes, Phineas,’ said Dumbledore.
‘I don't believe it,’ said Phineas brusquely.
Harry turned his head in time to see Phineas marching out of his portrait and knew that he had gone to visit his other painting in Grimmauld Place. He would walk, perhaps, from portrait to portrait, calling for Sirius through the house ...
‘Harry, I owe you an explanation,’ said Dumbledore. ‘An explanation of an old man's mistakes. For I see now that what I have done, and not done, with regard to you, bears all the hallmarks of the failings of age. Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young ... and I seem to have forgotten, lately ...’
The sun was rising properly now; there was a rim of dazzling orange visible over the mountains and the sky above it was colourless and bright. The light fell upon Dumbledore, upon the silver of his eyebrows and beard, upon the lines gouged deeply into his lace.
‘I guessed, fifteen years ago,’ said Dumbledore, ‘when I saw the scar on your forehead, what it might mean. I guessed that it might be the sign of a connection forged between you and Voldemort.’
‘You've told me this before, Professor,’ said Harry bluntly. He did not care about being rude. He did not care about anything very much any more.
‘Yes,’ said Dumbledore apologetically. ‘Yes, but you see—it is necessary to start with your scar. For it became apparent, shortly after you rejoined the magical world, that I was correct, and that your scar was giving you warnings when Voldemort was close to you, or else feeling powerful emotion.’
‘I know,’ said Harry wearily.
‘And this ability of yours—to detect Voldemort's presence, even when he is disguised, and to know what he is feeling when his emotions are roused—has become more and more pronounced since Voldemort returned to his own body and his full powers.’
Harry did not bother to nod. He knew all of this already.
‘More recently,’ said Dumbledore, ‘I became concerned that Voldemort might realise that this connection between you exists. Sure enough, there came a time when you entered so far into his mind and thoughts that he sensed your presence. I am speaking, of course, of the night when you witnessed the attack on Mr. Weasley.’
‘Yeah, Snape told me,’ Harry muttered.
‘Professor Snape, Harry,’ Dumbledore corrected him quietly. ‘But did you not wonder why it was not I who explained this to you? Why I did not teach you Occlumency? Why I had not so much as looked at you for months?’
Harry looked up. He could see now that Dumbledore looked sad and tired.
Harry turned his head in time to see Phineas marching out of his portrait and knew that he had gone to visit his other painting in Grimmauld Place. He would walk, perhaps, from portrait to portrait, calling for Sirius through the house ...
‘Harry, I owe you an explanation,’ said Dumbledore. ‘An explanation of an old man's mistakes. For I see now that what I have done, and not done, with regard to you, bears all the hallmarks of the failings of age. Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young ... and I seem to have forgotten, lately ...’
The sun was rising properly now; there was a rim of dazzling orange visible over the mountains and the sky above it was colourless and bright. The light fell upon Dumbledore, upon the silver of his eyebrows and beard, upon the lines gouged deeply into his lace.
‘I guessed, fifteen years ago,’ said Dumbledore, ‘when I saw the scar on your forehead, what it might mean. I guessed that it might be the sign of a connection forged between you and Voldemort.’
‘You've told me this before, Professor,’ said Harry bluntly. He did not care about being rude. He did not care about anything very much any more.
‘Yes,’ said Dumbledore apologetically. ‘Yes, but you see—it is necessary to start with your scar. For it became apparent, shortly after you rejoined the magical world, that I was correct, and that your scar was giving you warnings when Voldemort was close to you, or else feeling powerful emotion.’
‘I know,’ said Harry wearily.
‘And this ability of yours—to detect Voldemort's presence, even when he is disguised, and to know what he is feeling when his emotions are roused—has become more and more pronounced since Voldemort returned to his own body and his full powers.’
Harry did not bother to nod. He knew all of this already.
‘More recently,’ said Dumbledore, ‘I became concerned that Voldemort might realise that this connection between you exists. Sure enough, there came a time when you entered so far into his mind and thoughts that he sensed your presence. I am speaking, of course, of the night when you witnessed the attack on Mr. Weasley.’
‘Yeah, Snape told me,’ Harry muttered.
‘Professor Snape, Harry,’ Dumbledore corrected him quietly. ‘But did you not wonder why it was not I who explained this to you? Why I did not teach you Occlumency? Why I had not so much as looked at you for months?’
Harry looked up. He could see now that Dumbledore looked sad and tired.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
‘Yes, but still,’ said Hermione
‘Yes, but still,’ said Hermione, with an air of explaining something very simple to somebody very obtuse, ‘even if you do cause a diversion, how is Harry supposed to talk to him?’
‘Umbridge's office,’ said Harry quietly.
He had been thinking about it for a fortnight and could come up with no alternative. Umbridge herself had told him that the only fire that was not being watched was her own.
‘Are—you— insane?’ said Hermione in a hushed voice.
Ron had lowered his leaflet on jobs in the Cultivated Fungus Trade and was watching the conversation warily.
‘I don't think so,’ said Harry, shrugging.
‘And how are you going to get in there in the first place?’
Harry was ready for this question.
‘Sirius's knife,’ he said.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Christmas before last Sirius gave me a knife that'll open any lock,’ said Harry. ‘So even if she's bewitched the door so Alahomora won't work, which I bet she has— ’
‘What do you think about this?’ Hermione demanded of Ron, and Harry was reminded irresistibly of Mrs. Weasley appealing to her husband during Harry's first dinner in Grimmauld Place.
‘I dunno,’ said Ron, looking alarmed at being asked to give an opinion. ‘If Harry wants to do it, it's up to him, isn't it?’
‘Spoken like a true friend and Weasley,’ said Fred, clapping Ron hard on the back. ‘Right, then. We're thinking of doing it tomorrow, just after lessons, because it should cause maximum impact in everybody's in the corridors—Harry, we'll set it off in the east wing somewhere, draw her right away from her own office—I reckon we should be able to guarantee you, what, twenty minutes?’ he said, looking at George.
‘Easy,’ said George.
‘What sort of diversion is it?’ asked Ron.
‘You'll see, little bro', said Fred, as he and George got up again. ‘At least, you will if you trot along to Gregory the Smarmy's corridor round about five o'clock tomorrow.’
Harry awoke very early the next day, feeling almost as anxious as he had done on the morning of his disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic. It was not only the prospect of breaking into Umbridge's office and using her fire to speak to Sirius that was making him feel nervous, though that was certainly bad enough; today also happened to be the first time Harry would be in close proximity to Snape since Snape had thrown him out of his office.
After lying in bed for a while thinking about the day ahead, Harry got up very quietly and moved across to the window beside Neville's bed, and stared out on a truly glorious morning. The sky was a clear, misty, opalescent blue. Directly ahead of him, Harry could see the towering beech tree below which his father had once tormented Snape. He was not sure what Sirius could possibly say to him that would make up for what he had seen in the Pensieve, but he was desperate to hear Sirius's own account of what had happened, to know of any mitigating factors there might have been, any excuse at all for his father's behaviour ...
Something caught Harry's attention: movement on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Harry squinted into the sun and saw Hagrid emerging from between the trees. He seemed to be limping. As Harry watched, Hagrid staggered to the door of his cabin and disappeared inside it. Harry watched the cabin for several minutes. Hagrid did not emerge again, but smoke furled from the chimney, so Hagrid could not be so badly injured that he was unequal to stoking the fire.
Harry turned away from the window, headed back to his trunk and started to dress.
With the prospect of forcing entry into Umbridge's office ahead. Harry had never expected the day to be a restful one, but he had not reckoned on Hermione's almost continual attempts to dissuade him from what he was planning to do at five o'clock. For the first time ever, she was at least as inattentive to Professor Binns in History of Magic as Harry and Ron were, keeping up a stream of whispered admonitions that Harry tried very hard to ignore.
‘... and if she does catch you there, apart from being expelled, she'll be able to guess you've been talking to Snuffles and this time I expect she'll force you to drink Veritaserum and answer her questions ...’
‘Hermione,’ said Ron in a low and indignant voice, ‘are you going to stop telling Harry off and listen to Binns, or am I going to have to take my own notes?’
‘You take notes for a change, it won't kill you!’
By the time they reached the dungeons, neither Harry nor Ron was speaking to Hermione. Undeterred, she took advantage of their silence to maintain an uninterrupted flow of dire warnings, all uttered under her breath in a vehement hiss that caused Seamus to waste five whole minutes checking his cauldron for leaks.
‘Umbridge's office,’ said Harry quietly.
He had been thinking about it for a fortnight and could come up with no alternative. Umbridge herself had told him that the only fire that was not being watched was her own.
‘Are—you— insane?’ said Hermione in a hushed voice.
Ron had lowered his leaflet on jobs in the Cultivated Fungus Trade and was watching the conversation warily.
‘I don't think so,’ said Harry, shrugging.
‘And how are you going to get in there in the first place?’
Harry was ready for this question.
‘Sirius's knife,’ he said.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Christmas before last Sirius gave me a knife that'll open any lock,’ said Harry. ‘So even if she's bewitched the door so Alahomora won't work, which I bet she has— ’
‘What do you think about this?’ Hermione demanded of Ron, and Harry was reminded irresistibly of Mrs. Weasley appealing to her husband during Harry's first dinner in Grimmauld Place.
‘I dunno,’ said Ron, looking alarmed at being asked to give an opinion. ‘If Harry wants to do it, it's up to him, isn't it?’
‘Spoken like a true friend and Weasley,’ said Fred, clapping Ron hard on the back. ‘Right, then. We're thinking of doing it tomorrow, just after lessons, because it should cause maximum impact in everybody's in the corridors—Harry, we'll set it off in the east wing somewhere, draw her right away from her own office—I reckon we should be able to guarantee you, what, twenty minutes?’ he said, looking at George.
‘Easy,’ said George.
‘What sort of diversion is it?’ asked Ron.
‘You'll see, little bro', said Fred, as he and George got up again. ‘At least, you will if you trot along to Gregory the Smarmy's corridor round about five o'clock tomorrow.’
Harry awoke very early the next day, feeling almost as anxious as he had done on the morning of his disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic. It was not only the prospect of breaking into Umbridge's office and using her fire to speak to Sirius that was making him feel nervous, though that was certainly bad enough; today also happened to be the first time Harry would be in close proximity to Snape since Snape had thrown him out of his office.
After lying in bed for a while thinking about the day ahead, Harry got up very quietly and moved across to the window beside Neville's bed, and stared out on a truly glorious morning. The sky was a clear, misty, opalescent blue. Directly ahead of him, Harry could see the towering beech tree below which his father had once tormented Snape. He was not sure what Sirius could possibly say to him that would make up for what he had seen in the Pensieve, but he was desperate to hear Sirius's own account of what had happened, to know of any mitigating factors there might have been, any excuse at all for his father's behaviour ...
Something caught Harry's attention: movement on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Harry squinted into the sun and saw Hagrid emerging from between the trees. He seemed to be limping. As Harry watched, Hagrid staggered to the door of his cabin and disappeared inside it. Harry watched the cabin for several minutes. Hagrid did not emerge again, but smoke furled from the chimney, so Hagrid could not be so badly injured that he was unequal to stoking the fire.
Harry turned away from the window, headed back to his trunk and started to dress.
With the prospect of forcing entry into Umbridge's office ahead. Harry had never expected the day to be a restful one, but he had not reckoned on Hermione's almost continual attempts to dissuade him from what he was planning to do at five o'clock. For the first time ever, she was at least as inattentive to Professor Binns in History of Magic as Harry and Ron were, keeping up a stream of whispered admonitions that Harry tried very hard to ignore.
‘... and if she does catch you there, apart from being expelled, she'll be able to guess you've been talking to Snuffles and this time I expect she'll force you to drink Veritaserum and answer her questions ...’
‘Hermione,’ said Ron in a low and indignant voice, ‘are you going to stop telling Harry off and listen to Binns, or am I going to have to take my own notes?’
‘You take notes for a change, it won't kill you!’
By the time they reached the dungeons, neither Harry nor Ron was speaking to Hermione. Undeterred, she took advantage of their silence to maintain an uninterrupted flow of dire warnings, all uttered under her breath in a vehement hiss that caused Seamus to waste five whole minutes checking his cauldron for leaks.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
‘It's quite all right,’
‘It's quite all right,’ said Umbridge, patting Neville on the shoulder with what she evidently intended to be an understanding smile, though it looked more like a leer to Harry. ‘Well, Hagrid,’ she turned to look up at him again,
speaking once more in that loud, slow voice, ‘I think I've got enough to be getting along with. You will receive’ (she mimed taking something from the air in front of her) ‘the results of your inspection’ (she pointed at the
clipboard) ‘in ten days’ time.’ She held up ten stubby little fingers, then, her smile wider and more toadlike than ever before beneath her green hat, she bustled from their midst, leaving Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson in fits of
laughter, Hermione actually shaking with fury and Neville looking confused and upset.
‘That foul, lying, twisting old gargoyle!’ stormed Hermione half an hour later, as they made their way back up to the castle through the channels they had made earlier in the snow. ‘You see what she's up to? It's her thing
about half-breeds all over again—she's trying to make out Hagrid's some kind of dimwitted troll, just because he had a giantess for a mother—and oh, it's not fair, that really wasn't a bad lesson at all—I mean, all right, if it had
been Blast-Ended Skrewts again, but Thestrals are fine—in fact, for Hagrid, they're really good!’
‘Umbridge said they're dangerous,’ said Ron.
‘Well, it's like Hagrid said, they can look after themselves,’ said Hermione impatiently, ‘and I suppose a teacher like Grubbly-Plank wouldn't usually show them to us before NEWT level, but, well, they are very interesting, aren't
they? The way some people can see them and some can't! I wish I could.’
‘Do you?’ Harry asked her quietly.
She looked suddenly horrorstruck.
‘Oh, Harry—I'm sorry—no, of course I don't—that was a really stupid thing to say.’
‘It's OK,’ he said quickly, ‘don't worry’
‘I'm surprised so many people could see them,’ said Ron. ‘Three in a class—’
‘Yeah, Weasley, we were just wondering,’ said a malicious voice. Unheard by any of them in the muffling snow, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were walking along right behind them. ‘D'you reckon if you saw someone snuff it you'd
be able to see the Quaffle better?’
He, Crabbe and Goyle roared with laughter as they pushed past on their way to the castle, then broke into a chorus of ‘Weasley is our King'. Ron's ears turned scarlet.
‘Ignore them, just ignore them,’ intoned Hermione, pulling out her wand and performing the charm to produce hot air again, so that she could melt them an easier path through the untouched snow between them and the
greenhouses.
December arrived, bringing with it more snow and a positive avalanche of homework for the fifth-years. Ron and Hermione's prefect duties also became more and more onerous as Christmas approached. They were called
upon to supervise the decoration of the castle ('You try putting up tinsel when Peeves has got the other end and is trying to strangle you with it,’ said Ron), to watch over first- and second-years spending their break-times
inside because of the bitter cold ('And they're cheeky little snot-rags, you know, we definitely weren't that rude when we were in first year,’ said Ron) and to patrol the corridors in shifts with Argus Filch, who suspected that the
holiday spirit might show itself in an outbreak of wizard duels ('He's got dung for brains, that one,’ said Ron furiously). They were so busy that Hermione had even stopped knitting elf hats and was fretting that she was down to
her last three.
‘All those poor elves I haven't set free yet, having to stay here over Christmas because there aren't enough hats!’
Harry, who had not had the heart to tell her that Dobby was taking everything she made, bent lower over his History of Magic essay. In any case, he did not want to think about Christmas. For the first time in his school career,
he very much wanted to spend the holidays away from Hogwarts. Between his Quidditch ban and worry about whether or not Hagrid was going to be put on probation, he felt highly resentful towards the place at the moment.
The only thing he really looked forward to were the DA meetings, and they would have to stop over the holidays, as nearly everybody in the DA would be spending the time with their families. Hermione was going skiing with
her parents, something that greatly amused Ron, who had never heard of Muggles strapping narrow strips of wood on to their feet to slide down mountains. Ron was going home to The Burrow. Harry endured several days of
envy before Ron said, in response to Harry asking him how he was going to get home for Christmas: ‘But you're coming too! Didn't I say? Mum wrote and told me to invite you weeks ago!’
Hermione rolled her eyes, but Harry's spirits soared: the thought of Christmas at The Burrow was truly wonderful, though slightly marred by Harry's guilty feeling that he would not be able to spend the holiday with Sirius. He
wondered whether he could possibly persuade Mrs. Weasley to invite his godfather for the festivities. Even though he doubted whether Dumbledore would permit Sirius to leave Grimmauld Place anyway, he could not help but
think Mrs. Weasley might not want him; they were so often at loggerheads. Sirius had not contacted Harry at all since his last appearance in the fire, and although Harry knew that with Umbridge on constant watch it would be
unwise to attempt to contact him, he did not like to think of Sirius alone in his mother's old house, perhaps pulling a lonely cracker with Kreacher.
Harry arrived early in the Room of Requirement for the last DA meeting before the holidays and was very glad he had, because when the torches burst into flame he saw that Dobby had taken it upon himself to decorate the
place for Christmas. He could tell the elf had done it, because nobody else would have strung a hundred golden baubles from the ceiling, each showing a picture of Harry's face and bearing the legend: ‘HAVE A VERY HARRY
CHRISTMAS!’
Harry had only just managed to get the last of them down before the door creaked open and Luna Lovegood entered, looking as dreamy as usual.
‘Hello,’ she said vaguely, looking around at what remained of the decorations. ‘These are nice, did you put them up?’
‘No,’ said Harry, ‘it was Dobby the house-elf.’
‘Mistletoe,’ said Luna dreamily, pointing at a large clump of white berries placed almost over Harry's head. He jumped out from under it. ‘Good thinking,’ said Luna very seriously. ‘It's often infested with Nargles.’
Harry was saved the necessity of asking what Nargles are by the arrival of Angelina, Katie and Alicia. All three of them were breathless and looked very cold.
‘Well,’ said Angelina dully, pulling off her cloak and throwing it into a corner, ‘we've finally replaced you.’
‘Replaced me?’ said Harry blankly.
‘You and Fred and George,’ she said impatiently. ‘We've got another Seeker!’
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speaking once more in that loud, slow voice, ‘I think I've got enough to be getting along with. You will receive’ (she mimed taking something from the air in front of her) ‘the results of your inspection’ (she pointed at the
clipboard) ‘in ten days’ time.’ She held up ten stubby little fingers, then, her smile wider and more toadlike than ever before beneath her green hat, she bustled from their midst, leaving Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson in fits of
laughter, Hermione actually shaking with fury and Neville looking confused and upset.
‘That foul, lying, twisting old gargoyle!’ stormed Hermione half an hour later, as they made their way back up to the castle through the channels they had made earlier in the snow. ‘You see what she's up to? It's her thing
about half-breeds all over again—she's trying to make out Hagrid's some kind of dimwitted troll, just because he had a giantess for a mother—and oh, it's not fair, that really wasn't a bad lesson at all—I mean, all right, if it had
been Blast-Ended Skrewts again, but Thestrals are fine—in fact, for Hagrid, they're really good!’
‘Umbridge said they're dangerous,’ said Ron.
‘Well, it's like Hagrid said, they can look after themselves,’ said Hermione impatiently, ‘and I suppose a teacher like Grubbly-Plank wouldn't usually show them to us before NEWT level, but, well, they are very interesting, aren't
they? The way some people can see them and some can't! I wish I could.’
‘Do you?’ Harry asked her quietly.
She looked suddenly horrorstruck.
‘Oh, Harry—I'm sorry—no, of course I don't—that was a really stupid thing to say.’
‘It's OK,’ he said quickly, ‘don't worry’
‘I'm surprised so many people could see them,’ said Ron. ‘Three in a class—’
‘Yeah, Weasley, we were just wondering,’ said a malicious voice. Unheard by any of them in the muffling snow, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were walking along right behind them. ‘D'you reckon if you saw someone snuff it you'd
be able to see the Quaffle better?’
He, Crabbe and Goyle roared with laughter as they pushed past on their way to the castle, then broke into a chorus of ‘Weasley is our King'. Ron's ears turned scarlet.
‘Ignore them, just ignore them,’ intoned Hermione, pulling out her wand and performing the charm to produce hot air again, so that she could melt them an easier path through the untouched snow between them and the
greenhouses.
December arrived, bringing with it more snow and a positive avalanche of homework for the fifth-years. Ron and Hermione's prefect duties also became more and more onerous as Christmas approached. They were called
upon to supervise the decoration of the castle ('You try putting up tinsel when Peeves has got the other end and is trying to strangle you with it,’ said Ron), to watch over first- and second-years spending their break-times
inside because of the bitter cold ('And they're cheeky little snot-rags, you know, we definitely weren't that rude when we were in first year,’ said Ron) and to patrol the corridors in shifts with Argus Filch, who suspected that the
holiday spirit might show itself in an outbreak of wizard duels ('He's got dung for brains, that one,’ said Ron furiously). They were so busy that Hermione had even stopped knitting elf hats and was fretting that she was down to
her last three.
‘All those poor elves I haven't set free yet, having to stay here over Christmas because there aren't enough hats!’
Harry, who had not had the heart to tell her that Dobby was taking everything she made, bent lower over his History of Magic essay. In any case, he did not want to think about Christmas. For the first time in his school career,
he very much wanted to spend the holidays away from Hogwarts. Between his Quidditch ban and worry about whether or not Hagrid was going to be put on probation, he felt highly resentful towards the place at the moment.
The only thing he really looked forward to were the DA meetings, and they would have to stop over the holidays, as nearly everybody in the DA would be spending the time with their families. Hermione was going skiing with
her parents, something that greatly amused Ron, who had never heard of Muggles strapping narrow strips of wood on to their feet to slide down mountains. Ron was going home to The Burrow. Harry endured several days of
envy before Ron said, in response to Harry asking him how he was going to get home for Christmas: ‘But you're coming too! Didn't I say? Mum wrote and told me to invite you weeks ago!’
Hermione rolled her eyes, but Harry's spirits soared: the thought of Christmas at The Burrow was truly wonderful, though slightly marred by Harry's guilty feeling that he would not be able to spend the holiday with Sirius. He
wondered whether he could possibly persuade Mrs. Weasley to invite his godfather for the festivities. Even though he doubted whether Dumbledore would permit Sirius to leave Grimmauld Place anyway, he could not help but
think Mrs. Weasley might not want him; they were so often at loggerheads. Sirius had not contacted Harry at all since his last appearance in the fire, and although Harry knew that with Umbridge on constant watch it would be
unwise to attempt to contact him, he did not like to think of Sirius alone in his mother's old house, perhaps pulling a lonely cracker with Kreacher.
Harry arrived early in the Room of Requirement for the last DA meeting before the holidays and was very glad he had, because when the torches burst into flame he saw that Dobby had taken it upon himself to decorate the
place for Christmas. He could tell the elf had done it, because nobody else would have strung a hundred golden baubles from the ceiling, each showing a picture of Harry's face and bearing the legend: ‘HAVE A VERY HARRY
CHRISTMAS!’
Harry had only just managed to get the last of them down before the door creaked open and Luna Lovegood entered, looking as dreamy as usual.
‘Hello,’ she said vaguely, looking around at what remained of the decorations. ‘These are nice, did you put them up?’
‘No,’ said Harry, ‘it was Dobby the house-elf.’
‘Mistletoe,’ said Luna dreamily, pointing at a large clump of white berries placed almost over Harry's head. He jumped out from under it. ‘Good thinking,’ said Luna very seriously. ‘It's often infested with Nargles.’
Harry was saved the necessity of asking what Nargles are by the arrival of Angelina, Katie and Alicia. All three of them were breathless and looked very cold.
‘Well,’ said Angelina dully, pulling off her cloak and throwing it into a corner, ‘we've finally replaced you.’
‘Replaced me?’ said Harry blankly.
‘You and Fred and George,’ she said impatiently. ‘We've got another Seeker!’
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Tuesday, November 16, 2010
‘It could be a frame-up!’ Ron exclaimed excitedly.
‘It could be a frame-up!’ Ron exclaimed excitedly. ‘No—listen!’ he went on, dropping his voice dramatically at the threatening look on Hermione's face. ‘The Ministry suspects he's one of Dumbledore's lot so—I dunno—they lured him to the Ministry, and he wasn't trying to get through a door at all! Maybe they've just made something up to get him!’
There was a pause while Harry and Hermione considered this. Harry thought it seemed far-fetched. Hermione, on the other hand, looked rather impressed.
‘Do you know, I wouldn't be at all surprised if that were true.’
She folded up her half of the newspaper thoughtfully. As Harry laid down his knife and fork, she seemed to come out of a reverie.
‘Right, well, I think we should tackle that essay for Sprout on self-fertilising shrubs first and if we're lucky we'll be able to start McGonagall's Inanimatus Conjurus Spell before lunch ...’
Harry felt a small twinge of guilt at the thought of the pile of homework awaiting him upstairs, but the sky was a clear, exhilarating blue, and he had not been on his Firebolt for a week ...
‘I mean, we can do it tonight,’ said Ron, as he and Harry walked down the sloping lawns towards the Quidditch pitch, their broomsticks over their shoulders, and with Hermione's dire warnings that they would fail all their OWLs still ringing in their ears. ‘And we've got tomorrow. She gets too worked up about work, that's her trouble ...’ There was a pause and he added, in a slightly more anxious tone, ‘D'you think she meant it when she said we weren't copying from her?’
‘Yeah, I do,’ said Harry. ‘Still, this is important, too, we've got to practise if we want to stay on the Quidditch team ...’
‘Yeah, that's right,’ said Ron, in a heartened tone. ‘And we have got plenty of time to do it all ...’
As they approached the Quidditch pitch, Harry glanced over to his right to where the trees of the Forbidden Forest were swaying darkly. Nothing flew out of them; the sky was empty but for a few distant owls fluttering around the Owlery tower. He had enough to worry about; the flying horse wasn't doing him any harm; he pushed it out of his mind.
They collected balls from the cupboard in the changing room and set to work, Ron guarding the three tall goalposts, Harry playing Chaser and trying to get the Quaffle past Ron. Harry thought Ron was pretty good; he blocked three-quarters of the goals Harry attempted to put past him and played better the longer they practised. After a couple of hours they returned to the castle for lunch—during which Hermione made it quite clear she thought they were irresponsible—then returned to the Quidditch pitch for the real training session. All their teammates but Angelina were already in the changing room when they entered.
‘All right, Ron?’ said George, winking at him.
‘Yeah,’ said Ron, who had become quieter and quieter all the way down to the pitch.
‘Ready to show us all up, Ickle Prefect?’ said Fred, emerging tousle-haired from the neck of his Quidditch robes, a slightly malicious grin on his face.
‘Shut up,’ said Ron, stony-faced, pulling on his own team robes for the first time. They fitted him well considering they had been Oliver Wood's, who was rather broader in the shoulder.
‘OK, everyone,’ said Angelina, entering from the Captain's office, already changed. ‘Let's get to it; Alicia and Fred, if you can just bring out the ball crate for us. Oh, and there are a couple of people out there watching but I want you to just ignore them, all right?’
Something in her would-be casual voice made Harry think he might know who the uninvited spectators were, and sure enough, when they left the changing room for the bright sunlight of the pitch it was to a storm of catcalls and jeers from the Slytherin Quidditch team and assorted hangers-on, who were grouped halfway up the empty stands and whose voices echoed loudly around the stadium.
‘What's that Weasley's riding?’ Malfoy called in his sneering drawl. ‘Why would anyone put a flying charm on a mouldy old log like that?’
Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson guffawed and shrieked with laughter. Ron mounted his broom and kicked off from the ground and Harry followed him, watching his ears turn red from behind.
‘Ignore them,’ he said, accelerating to catch up with Ron, ‘we'll see who's laughing after we play them ...’
‘Exactly the attitude I want, Harry,’ said Angelina approvingly soaring around them with the Quaffle under her arm and slowing to hover on the spot in front of her airborne team. ‘OK, everyone, we're going to start with some passes just to warm up, the whole team please—’
‘Hey, Johnson, what's with that hairstyle, anyway?’ shrieked Pansy Parkinson from below. ‘Why would anyone want to look like they've got worms coming out of their head?’
Angelina swept her long braided hair out of her face and continued calmly, ‘Spread out, then, and let's see what we can do ...’
Harry reversed away from the others to the far side of the pitch. Ron fell back towards the opposite goal. Angelina raised the Quaffle with one hand and threw it hard to Fred, who passed to George, who passed to Harry, who passed to Ron, who dropped it.
The Slytherins, led by Malfoy, roared and screamed with laughter. Ron, who had pelted towards the ground to catch the Quaffle before it landed, pulled out of the dive untidily, so that he slipped sideways on his broom, and returned to playing height, blushing. Harry saw Fred and George exchange looks, but uncharacteristically neither of them said anything, for which he was grateful.
‘Pass it on, Ron,’ called Angelina, as though nothing had happened.
There was a pause while Harry and Hermione considered this. Harry thought it seemed far-fetched. Hermione, on the other hand, looked rather impressed.
‘Do you know, I wouldn't be at all surprised if that were true.’
She folded up her half of the newspaper thoughtfully. As Harry laid down his knife and fork, she seemed to come out of a reverie.
‘Right, well, I think we should tackle that essay for Sprout on self-fertilising shrubs first and if we're lucky we'll be able to start McGonagall's Inanimatus Conjurus Spell before lunch ...’
Harry felt a small twinge of guilt at the thought of the pile of homework awaiting him upstairs, but the sky was a clear, exhilarating blue, and he had not been on his Firebolt for a week ...
‘I mean, we can do it tonight,’ said Ron, as he and Harry walked down the sloping lawns towards the Quidditch pitch, their broomsticks over their shoulders, and with Hermione's dire warnings that they would fail all their OWLs still ringing in their ears. ‘And we've got tomorrow. She gets too worked up about work, that's her trouble ...’ There was a pause and he added, in a slightly more anxious tone, ‘D'you think she meant it when she said we weren't copying from her?’
‘Yeah, I do,’ said Harry. ‘Still, this is important, too, we've got to practise if we want to stay on the Quidditch team ...’
‘Yeah, that's right,’ said Ron, in a heartened tone. ‘And we have got plenty of time to do it all ...’
As they approached the Quidditch pitch, Harry glanced over to his right to where the trees of the Forbidden Forest were swaying darkly. Nothing flew out of them; the sky was empty but for a few distant owls fluttering around the Owlery tower. He had enough to worry about; the flying horse wasn't doing him any harm; he pushed it out of his mind.
They collected balls from the cupboard in the changing room and set to work, Ron guarding the three tall goalposts, Harry playing Chaser and trying to get the Quaffle past Ron. Harry thought Ron was pretty good; he blocked three-quarters of the goals Harry attempted to put past him and played better the longer they practised. After a couple of hours they returned to the castle for lunch—during which Hermione made it quite clear she thought they were irresponsible—then returned to the Quidditch pitch for the real training session. All their teammates but Angelina were already in the changing room when they entered.
‘All right, Ron?’ said George, winking at him.
‘Yeah,’ said Ron, who had become quieter and quieter all the way down to the pitch.
‘Ready to show us all up, Ickle Prefect?’ said Fred, emerging tousle-haired from the neck of his Quidditch robes, a slightly malicious grin on his face.
‘Shut up,’ said Ron, stony-faced, pulling on his own team robes for the first time. They fitted him well considering they had been Oliver Wood's, who was rather broader in the shoulder.
‘OK, everyone,’ said Angelina, entering from the Captain's office, already changed. ‘Let's get to it; Alicia and Fred, if you can just bring out the ball crate for us. Oh, and there are a couple of people out there watching but I want you to just ignore them, all right?’
Something in her would-be casual voice made Harry think he might know who the uninvited spectators were, and sure enough, when they left the changing room for the bright sunlight of the pitch it was to a storm of catcalls and jeers from the Slytherin Quidditch team and assorted hangers-on, who were grouped halfway up the empty stands and whose voices echoed loudly around the stadium.
‘What's that Weasley's riding?’ Malfoy called in his sneering drawl. ‘Why would anyone put a flying charm on a mouldy old log like that?’
Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson guffawed and shrieked with laughter. Ron mounted his broom and kicked off from the ground and Harry followed him, watching his ears turn red from behind.
‘Ignore them,’ he said, accelerating to catch up with Ron, ‘we'll see who's laughing after we play them ...’
‘Exactly the attitude I want, Harry,’ said Angelina approvingly soaring around them with the Quaffle under her arm and slowing to hover on the spot in front of her airborne team. ‘OK, everyone, we're going to start with some passes just to warm up, the whole team please—’
‘Hey, Johnson, what's with that hairstyle, anyway?’ shrieked Pansy Parkinson from below. ‘Why would anyone want to look like they've got worms coming out of their head?’
Angelina swept her long braided hair out of her face and continued calmly, ‘Spread out, then, and let's see what we can do ...’
Harry reversed away from the others to the far side of the pitch. Ron fell back towards the opposite goal. Angelina raised the Quaffle with one hand and threw it hard to Fred, who passed to George, who passed to Harry, who passed to Ron, who dropped it.
The Slytherins, led by Malfoy, roared and screamed with laughter. Ron, who had pelted towards the ground to catch the Quaffle before it landed, pulled out of the dive untidily, so that he slipped sideways on his broom, and returned to playing height, blushing. Harry saw Fred and George exchange looks, but uncharacteristically neither of them said anything, for which he was grateful.
‘Pass it on, Ron,’ called Angelina, as though nothing had happened.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Harry pulled one of Dudley's massive
arms around his own shoulders and dragged him towards the road, sagging slightly under the weight. Mrs. Figg tottered along in front of them, peering anxiously around the corner.
‘Keep your wand out,’ she told Harry, as they entered Wisteria Walk. ‘Never mind the Statute of Secrecy now, there's going to be hell to pay anyway, we might as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg. Talk about the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery... This was exactly what Dumbledore was afraid of—what's that at the end of the street? Oh, it's just Mr. Prentice... Don't put your wand away, boy, don't I keep telling you I'm no use?’
It was not easy to hold a wand steady and haul Dudley along at the same time. Harry gave his cousin an impatient dig in the ribs, but Dudley seemed to have lost all desire for independent movement. He was slumped on Harry's shoulder, his large feet dragging along the ground.
‘Why didn't you tell me you're a Squib, Mrs. Figg?’ asked Harry, panting with the effort to keep walking. ‘All those times I came round your house—why didn't you say anything?’
‘Dumbledore's orders. I was to keep an eye on you but not say anything, you were too young. I'm sorry I gave you such a miserable time, Harry, but the Dursleys would never have let you come if they'd thought you enjoyed it. It wasn't easy, you know ... but oh my word,’ she said tragically, wringing her hands once more, ‘when Dumbledore hears about this—how could Mundungus have left, he was supposed to be on duty until midnight—where is he? How am I going to tell Dumbledore what's happened? I can't Apparate—’
‘I've got an owl, you can borrow her,’ Harry groaned, wondering whether his spine was going to snap under Dudley's weight.
‘Harry, you don't understand! Dumbledore will need to act as quickly as possible, the Ministry have their own ways of detecting underage magic, they'll know already, you mark my words—’
‘But I was getting rid of dementors, I had to use magic—they're going to be more worried about what dementors were doing floating around Wisteria Walk, surely?’
‘Oh, my dear, I wish it were so, but I'm afraid— MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!’
There was a loud crack and a strong smell of drink mingled with stale tobacco filled the air as a squat, unshaven man in a tattered overcoat materialised right in front of them. He had short, bandy legs, long straggly ginger hair and bloodshot, baggy eyes that gave him the doleful look of a basset hound. He was also clutching a silvery bundle that Harry recognised at once as an Invisibility Cloak.
’ ‘S’ up, Figgy?’ he said, staring from Mrs. Figg to Harry and Dudley. ‘What ‘appened to staying undercover?’
‘I'll give you undercover!’ cried Mrs. Figg. ‘Dementors, you useless, skiving sneak thief!’
‘Dementors?’ repeated Mundungus, aghast. ‘Dementors, here?’
‘Yes, here, you worthless pile of bat droppings, here!’ shrieked Mrs. Figg. ‘Dementors attacking the boy on your watch!’
‘Blimey,’ said Mundungus weakly, looking from Mrs. Figg to Harry, and back again. ‘Blimey, I...’
‘And you off buying stolen cauldrons! Didn't I tell you not to go? Didn't I?’
‘I—well, I—’ Mundungus looked deeply uncomfortable. ‘It ... it was a very good business opportunity, see...’
Mrs. Figg raised the arm from which her string bag dangled and whacked Mundungus around the face and neck with it; judging by the clanking noise it made it was full of cat food.
‘Ouch—gerroff— gerroff, you mad old bat! Someone's gotta tell Dumbledore!’
‘Keep your wand out,’ she told Harry, as they entered Wisteria Walk. ‘Never mind the Statute of Secrecy now, there's going to be hell to pay anyway, we might as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg. Talk about the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery... This was exactly what Dumbledore was afraid of—what's that at the end of the street? Oh, it's just Mr. Prentice... Don't put your wand away, boy, don't I keep telling you I'm no use?’
It was not easy to hold a wand steady and haul Dudley along at the same time. Harry gave his cousin an impatient dig in the ribs, but Dudley seemed to have lost all desire for independent movement. He was slumped on Harry's shoulder, his large feet dragging along the ground.
‘Why didn't you tell me you're a Squib, Mrs. Figg?’ asked Harry, panting with the effort to keep walking. ‘All those times I came round your house—why didn't you say anything?’
‘Dumbledore's orders. I was to keep an eye on you but not say anything, you were too young. I'm sorry I gave you such a miserable time, Harry, but the Dursleys would never have let you come if they'd thought you enjoyed it. It wasn't easy, you know ... but oh my word,’ she said tragically, wringing her hands once more, ‘when Dumbledore hears about this—how could Mundungus have left, he was supposed to be on duty until midnight—where is he? How am I going to tell Dumbledore what's happened? I can't Apparate—’
‘I've got an owl, you can borrow her,’ Harry groaned, wondering whether his spine was going to snap under Dudley's weight.
‘Harry, you don't understand! Dumbledore will need to act as quickly as possible, the Ministry have their own ways of detecting underage magic, they'll know already, you mark my words—’
‘But I was getting rid of dementors, I had to use magic—they're going to be more worried about what dementors were doing floating around Wisteria Walk, surely?’
‘Oh, my dear, I wish it were so, but I'm afraid— MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!’
There was a loud crack and a strong smell of drink mingled with stale tobacco filled the air as a squat, unshaven man in a tattered overcoat materialised right in front of them. He had short, bandy legs, long straggly ginger hair and bloodshot, baggy eyes that gave him the doleful look of a basset hound. He was also clutching a silvery bundle that Harry recognised at once as an Invisibility Cloak.
’ ‘S’ up, Figgy?’ he said, staring from Mrs. Figg to Harry and Dudley. ‘What ‘appened to staying undercover?’
‘I'll give you undercover!’ cried Mrs. Figg. ‘Dementors, you useless, skiving sneak thief!’
‘Dementors?’ repeated Mundungus, aghast. ‘Dementors, here?’
‘Yes, here, you worthless pile of bat droppings, here!’ shrieked Mrs. Figg. ‘Dementors attacking the boy on your watch!’
‘Blimey,’ said Mundungus weakly, looking from Mrs. Figg to Harry, and back again. ‘Blimey, I...’
‘And you off buying stolen cauldrons! Didn't I tell you not to go? Didn't I?’
‘I—well, I—’ Mundungus looked deeply uncomfortable. ‘It ... it was a very good business opportunity, see...’
Mrs. Figg raised the arm from which her string bag dangled and whacked Mundungus around the face and neck with it; judging by the clanking noise it made it was full of cat food.
‘Ouch—gerroff— gerroff, you mad old bat! Someone's gotta tell Dumbledore!’
Chapter 2 A Peck Of Owls
‘What?’ said Harry blankly.
‘He left!’ said Mrs. Figg, wringing her hands. ‘Left to see someone about a batch of cauldrons that fell off the back of a broom! I told him I'd flay him alive if he went, and now look! Dementors! It's just lucky I put Mr. Tibbles on the case! But we haven't got time to stand around! Hurry, now, we've got to get you back! Oh, the trouble this is going to cause! I will kill him!’
‘But—’
The revelation that his batty old cat-obsessed neighbour knew what dementors were was almost as big a shock to Harry as meeting two of them down the alleyway. ‘You're—you're a witch?’
‘I'm a Squib, as Mundungus knows full well, so how on earth was I supposed to help you fight off dementors? He left you completely without cover when I'd warned him—’
‘This Mundungus has been following me? Hang on—it was him! He Disapparated from the front of my house!’
‘Yes, yes, yes, but luckily I'd stationed Mr. Tibbles under a car just in case, and Mr Tibbles came and warned me, but by the time I got to your house you'd gone— and now—oh, what's Dumbledore going to say? You!’ she shrieked at Dudley, still supine on the alley floor. ‘Get your fat bottom off the ground, quick!’
‘You know Dumbledore?’ said Harry, staring at her.
‘Of course I know Dumbledore, who doesn't know Dumbledore? But come on— I'll be no help if they come back, I've never so much as Transfigured a teabag.’
She stooped down, seized one of Dudley's massive arms in her wizened hands and tugged.
‘Get up, you useless lump, get up!’
But Dudley either could not or would not move. He remained on the ground, trembling and ashen-faced, his mouth shut very tight.
‘I'll do it.’ Harry took hold of Dudley's arm and heaved. With an enormous effort he managed to hoist him to his feet. Dudley seemed to be on the point of fainting. His small eyes were rolling in their sockets and sweat was beading his face; the moment Harry let go of him he swayed dangerously.
‘Hurry up!’ said Mrs. Figg hysterically.
‘He left!’ said Mrs. Figg, wringing her hands. ‘Left to see someone about a batch of cauldrons that fell off the back of a broom! I told him I'd flay him alive if he went, and now look! Dementors! It's just lucky I put Mr. Tibbles on the case! But we haven't got time to stand around! Hurry, now, we've got to get you back! Oh, the trouble this is going to cause! I will kill him!’
‘But—’
The revelation that his batty old cat-obsessed neighbour knew what dementors were was almost as big a shock to Harry as meeting two of them down the alleyway. ‘You're—you're a witch?’
‘I'm a Squib, as Mundungus knows full well, so how on earth was I supposed to help you fight off dementors? He left you completely without cover when I'd warned him—’
‘This Mundungus has been following me? Hang on—it was him! He Disapparated from the front of my house!’
‘Yes, yes, yes, but luckily I'd stationed Mr. Tibbles under a car just in case, and Mr Tibbles came and warned me, but by the time I got to your house you'd gone— and now—oh, what's Dumbledore going to say? You!’ she shrieked at Dudley, still supine on the alley floor. ‘Get your fat bottom off the ground, quick!’
‘You know Dumbledore?’ said Harry, staring at her.
‘Of course I know Dumbledore, who doesn't know Dumbledore? But come on— I'll be no help if they come back, I've never so much as Transfigured a teabag.’
She stooped down, seized one of Dudley's massive arms in her wizened hands and tugged.
‘Get up, you useless lump, get up!’
But Dudley either could not or would not move. He remained on the ground, trembling and ashen-faced, his mouth shut very tight.
‘I'll do it.’ Harry took hold of Dudley's arm and heaved. With an enormous effort he managed to hoist him to his feet. Dudley seemed to be on the point of fainting. His small eyes were rolling in their sockets and sweat was beading his face; the moment Harry let go of him he swayed dangerously.
‘Hurry up!’ said Mrs. Figg hysterically.
Moon, stars and streetlamps burst back into life
. A warm breeze swept the alleyway. Trees rustled in neighbouring gardens and the mundane rumble of cars in Magnolia Crescent filled the air again.
Harry stood quite still, all his senses vibrating, taking in the abrupt return to normality. After a moment, he became aware that his T-shirt was sticking to him; he was drenched in sweat.
He could not believe what had just happened. Dementors here, in Little Whinging.
Dudley lay curled up on the ground, whimpering and shaking. Harry bent down to see whether he was in a fit state to stand up, but then he heard loud, running footsteps behind him. Instinctively raising his wand again, he span on his heel to face the newcomer.
Mrs. Figg, their batty old neighbour, came panting into sight. Her grizzled grey hair was escaping from its hairnet, a clanking string shopping bag was swinging from her wrist and her feet were halfway out of her tartan carpet slippers. Harry made to stow his wand hurriedly out of sight, but—
‘Don't put it away, idiot boy!’ she shrieked. ‘What if there are more of them around? Oh, I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!’
Harry stood quite still, all his senses vibrating, taking in the abrupt return to normality. After a moment, he became aware that his T-shirt was sticking to him; he was drenched in sweat.
He could not believe what had just happened. Dementors here, in Little Whinging.
Dudley lay curled up on the ground, whimpering and shaking. Harry bent down to see whether he was in a fit state to stand up, but then he heard loud, running footsteps behind him. Instinctively raising his wand again, he span on his heel to face the newcomer.
Mrs. Figg, their batty old neighbour, came panting into sight. Her grizzled grey hair was escaping from its hairnet, a clanking string shopping bag was swinging from her wrist and her feet were halfway out of her tartan carpet slippers. Harry made to stow his wand hurriedly out of sight, but—
‘Don't put it away, idiot boy!’ she shrieked. ‘What if there are more of them around? Oh, I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!’
Sunday, November 14, 2010
So, what will you have to do about the toilet
‘?’ Harry asked, grinning. Everything suddenly seemed five times funnier than usual. It was starting to sink in: He was cleared, he was going back to Hogwarts.
‘Oh, it's a simple enough anti-jinx,’ said Mr. Weasley as they mounted the stairs, ‘but it's not so much having to repair the damage, it's more the attitude behind the vandalism, Harry. Muggle-baiting might strike some wizards
as funny, but it's an expression of something much deeper and nastier, and I for one—’
Mr. Weasley broke off in mid-sentence. They had just reached the ninth-level corridor and Cornelius Fudge was standing a few feet away from them, talking quietly to a tall man with sleek blond hair and a pointed, pale face.
The second man turned at the sound of their footsteps. He, too, broke off in mid-conversation, his cold grey eyes narrowed and fixed upon Harry's face.
‘Well, well, well ... Patronus Potter,’ said Lucius Malfoy coolly.
Harry felt winded, as though he had just walked into something solid. He had last seen those cold grey eyes through slits in a Death Eater's hood, and last heard that man's voice jeering in a dark graveyard while Lord
Voldemort tortured him. Harry could not believe that Lucius Malfoy dared look him in the face; he could not believe that he was here, in the Ministry of Magic, or that Cornelius Fudge was talking to him, when Harry had told
Fudge mere weeks ago that Malfoy was a Death Eater.
‘The Minister was just telling me about your lucky escape, Potter,’ drawled Mr. Malfoy. ‘Quite astonishing, the way you continue to wriggle out of very tight holes.... Snakelike, in fact...’
Mr. Weasley gripped Harry's shoulder in warning.
‘Yeah,’ said Harry, ‘yeah, I'm good at escaping.’
Lucius Malfoy raised his eyes to Mr. Weasley's face.
‘And Arthur Weasley too! What are you doing here, Arthur?’
‘I work here,’ said Mr. Weasley curtly.
‘Not here, surely?’ said Mr. Malfoy, raising his eyebrows and glancing towards the door over Mr. Weasley's shoulder. ‘I thought you were up on the second floor.... Don't you do something that involves sneaking Muggle
artefacts home and bewitching them?’
‘No,’ Mr. Weasley snapped, his fingers now biting into Harry's shoulder.
‘What areyou doing here, anyway?’ Harry asked Lucius Malfoy.
‘I don't think private matters between myself and the Minister are any concern of yours, Potter,’ said Malfoy, smoothing the front of his robes. Harry distinctly heard the gentle clinking of what sounded like a full pocket of gold. ‘
Really, just because you are Dumbledore's favourite boy, you must not expect the same indulgence from the rest of us.... Shall we go up to your office, then, Minister?’
‘Certainly,’ said Fudge, turning his back on Harry and Mr. Weasley. ‘This way, Lucius.’
They strode off together, talking in low voices. Mr. Weasley did not let go of Harry's shoulder until they had disappeared into the lift.
‘Why wasn't he waiting outside Fudge's office if they've got business to do together?’ Harry burst out furiously. ‘What was he doing down here?’
‘Trying to sneak down to the courtroom, if you ask me,’ said Mr. Weasley, looking extremely agitated and glancing over his shoulder as though making sure they could not be overheard. ‘Trying to find out whether you'd been
expelled or not. I'll leave a note for Dumbledore when I drop you off, he ought to know Malfoy's been talking to Fudge again.’
‘What private business have they got together, anyway?’
‘Gold, I expect,’ said Mr. Weasley angrily. ‘Malfoy's been giving generously to all sorts of things for years.... Gets him in with the right people ... then he can ask favours ... delay laws he doesn't want passed... Oh, he's very
well-connected, Lucius Malfoy....’
The lift arrived; it was empty except for a flock of memos that flapped around Mr. Weasley's head as he pressed the button for the Atrium and the doors clanged shut. He waved them away irritably.
‘Mr. Weasley,’ said Harry slowly, ‘if Fudge is meeting Death Eaters like Malfoy, if he's seeing them alone, how do we know they haven't put the Imperius Curse on him?’
‘Don't think it hadn't occurred to us, Harry,’ said Mr. Weasley quietly. ‘But Dumbledore thinks Fudge is acting of his own accord at the moment—which, as Dumbledore says, is not a lot of comfort.... Best not talk about it any
more just now, Harry....’
The doors slid open and they stepped out into the now almost-deserted Atrium. Eric the watchwizard was hidden behind his Daily Prophet again. They had walked straight past the golden fountain before Harry remembered.
‘Wait....’ he told Mr. Weasley, and, pulling his moneybag from his pocket, he turned back to the fountain.
He looked up into the handsome wizard's face, but up close, Harry thought he looked rather weak and foolish. The witch was wearing a vapid smile like a beauty contestant, and from what Harry knew of goblins and centaurs,
they were most unlikely to be caught staring so soppily at humans of any description. Only the house-elf's attitude of creeping servility looked convincing. With a grin at the thought of what Hermione would say if she could see
the statue of the elf, Harry turned his moneybag upside-down and emptied not just ten Galleons, but the whole contents into the pool at the statues’ feet.
‘I knew it!’ yelled Ron, punching the air. ‘You always get away with stuff!’
‘They were bound to clear you,’ said Hermione, who had looked positively faint with anxiety when Harry had entered the kitchen and was now holding a shaking hand over her eyes, ‘there was no case against you, none at all.’
‘Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering you all knew I'd get off,’ said Harry, smiling.
burberry
prada sunglasses
chanel handbags
uggs
uggs
‘Oh, it's a simple enough anti-jinx,’ said Mr. Weasley as they mounted the stairs, ‘but it's not so much having to repair the damage, it's more the attitude behind the vandalism, Harry. Muggle-baiting might strike some wizards
as funny, but it's an expression of something much deeper and nastier, and I for one—’
Mr. Weasley broke off in mid-sentence. They had just reached the ninth-level corridor and Cornelius Fudge was standing a few feet away from them, talking quietly to a tall man with sleek blond hair and a pointed, pale face.
The second man turned at the sound of their footsteps. He, too, broke off in mid-conversation, his cold grey eyes narrowed and fixed upon Harry's face.
‘Well, well, well ... Patronus Potter,’ said Lucius Malfoy coolly.
Harry felt winded, as though he had just walked into something solid. He had last seen those cold grey eyes through slits in a Death Eater's hood, and last heard that man's voice jeering in a dark graveyard while Lord
Voldemort tortured him. Harry could not believe that Lucius Malfoy dared look him in the face; he could not believe that he was here, in the Ministry of Magic, or that Cornelius Fudge was talking to him, when Harry had told
Fudge mere weeks ago that Malfoy was a Death Eater.
‘The Minister was just telling me about your lucky escape, Potter,’ drawled Mr. Malfoy. ‘Quite astonishing, the way you continue to wriggle out of very tight holes.... Snakelike, in fact...’
Mr. Weasley gripped Harry's shoulder in warning.
‘Yeah,’ said Harry, ‘yeah, I'm good at escaping.’
Lucius Malfoy raised his eyes to Mr. Weasley's face.
‘And Arthur Weasley too! What are you doing here, Arthur?’
‘I work here,’ said Mr. Weasley curtly.
‘Not here, surely?’ said Mr. Malfoy, raising his eyebrows and glancing towards the door over Mr. Weasley's shoulder. ‘I thought you were up on the second floor.... Don't you do something that involves sneaking Muggle
artefacts home and bewitching them?’
‘No,’ Mr. Weasley snapped, his fingers now biting into Harry's shoulder.
‘What areyou doing here, anyway?’ Harry asked Lucius Malfoy.
‘I don't think private matters between myself and the Minister are any concern of yours, Potter,’ said Malfoy, smoothing the front of his robes. Harry distinctly heard the gentle clinking of what sounded like a full pocket of gold. ‘
Really, just because you are Dumbledore's favourite boy, you must not expect the same indulgence from the rest of us.... Shall we go up to your office, then, Minister?’
‘Certainly,’ said Fudge, turning his back on Harry and Mr. Weasley. ‘This way, Lucius.’
They strode off together, talking in low voices. Mr. Weasley did not let go of Harry's shoulder until they had disappeared into the lift.
‘Why wasn't he waiting outside Fudge's office if they've got business to do together?’ Harry burst out furiously. ‘What was he doing down here?’
‘Trying to sneak down to the courtroom, if you ask me,’ said Mr. Weasley, looking extremely agitated and glancing over his shoulder as though making sure they could not be overheard. ‘Trying to find out whether you'd been
expelled or not. I'll leave a note for Dumbledore when I drop you off, he ought to know Malfoy's been talking to Fudge again.’
‘What private business have they got together, anyway?’
‘Gold, I expect,’ said Mr. Weasley angrily. ‘Malfoy's been giving generously to all sorts of things for years.... Gets him in with the right people ... then he can ask favours ... delay laws he doesn't want passed... Oh, he's very
well-connected, Lucius Malfoy....’
The lift arrived; it was empty except for a flock of memos that flapped around Mr. Weasley's head as he pressed the button for the Atrium and the doors clanged shut. He waved them away irritably.
‘Mr. Weasley,’ said Harry slowly, ‘if Fudge is meeting Death Eaters like Malfoy, if he's seeing them alone, how do we know they haven't put the Imperius Curse on him?’
‘Don't think it hadn't occurred to us, Harry,’ said Mr. Weasley quietly. ‘But Dumbledore thinks Fudge is acting of his own accord at the moment—which, as Dumbledore says, is not a lot of comfort.... Best not talk about it any
more just now, Harry....’
The doors slid open and they stepped out into the now almost-deserted Atrium. Eric the watchwizard was hidden behind his Daily Prophet again. They had walked straight past the golden fountain before Harry remembered.
‘Wait....’ he told Mr. Weasley, and, pulling his moneybag from his pocket, he turned back to the fountain.
He looked up into the handsome wizard's face, but up close, Harry thought he looked rather weak and foolish. The witch was wearing a vapid smile like a beauty contestant, and from what Harry knew of goblins and centaurs,
they were most unlikely to be caught staring so soppily at humans of any description. Only the house-elf's attitude of creeping servility looked convincing. With a grin at the thought of what Hermione would say if she could see
the statue of the elf, Harry turned his moneybag upside-down and emptied not just ten Galleons, but the whole contents into the pool at the statues’ feet.
‘I knew it!’ yelled Ron, punching the air. ‘You always get away with stuff!’
‘They were bound to clear you,’ said Hermione, who had looked positively faint with anxiety when Harry had entered the kitchen and was now holding a shaking hand over her eyes, ‘there was no case against you, none at all.’
‘Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering you all knew I'd get off,’ said Harry, smiling.
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Wednesday, November 10, 2010
The Effects of Condensation on Windows
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：125 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 1:29:40
Condensation is caused when the water from the skies starts going back to the earth, it can be through snow, rain or dew. It creates an effect of coolness, but it can be very damaging to your home. Imagine a window, bad to the bone damaged by condensation. Condensation does not come only from the outside, but also from inside our homes, like dishwashers, dryers and washing machines. These equipment uses water which when heat is applied, it causes a foggy effect and can cause humidity inside the house. Cooking can be another cause of humidity, because it needs water to be able to make a palatable gourmet. Our normal perspiration and breathing can add up to four pints in the air, causing mist in the window panes. Unfortunately de-humidifiers in the market can also add up to too much humidity inside the homes or establishments when they are defective. Another annoying cause which can be avoided is the poorly insulated spaces, which really attacks your home. It cant be avoided unless you have to request a complete rework of your home.
Nevertheless, condensation can not be avoided, and therefore there is a need to buy the best windows in town to avoid its adverse effects which can be tantamount to having a bad day daily.
Condensation can never be avoided because it is a normal reaction of photosynthesis, weather, our breathing and our daily chores in our houses. What is important is to get the right window pane protecting our family and friends when they visit our houses. Humidity can actually be good for moisturizing our skins, but very bad for our fixtures, and classic things which can attract molds and eventually destroys them. The trick here is to buy the best windows, apply the necessary sealant whenever necessary and buy the most appropriate humidifier, to have a worry free condensation effect.
Condensation can really caused damage into your walls, into your finest collection of furniture, and most of the time windows can be blamed for it. Choose a window where you can find the best sealant. Most of the time however, windows are not the major cause of condensation. As long as there is a facility of cold and heat mixing up together in the atmosphere be sure of condensation taking effect. To avoid such dreadful damaging scientific effect in your homes, it is best to put all fixtures especially wood away from damaging possibilities of condensation, like wooden tables and chairs near an air conditioning unit or heater. Books near the window panes, closed cabinets which have plenty of air exchange without any de humidifier. These are the best place where you can get those- pesky condensation damaging to your things, fixtures and you name it, your homes finest designs.
Condensation can be avoided by buying windows with excellent sealant, but it cannot be totally blamed on the windows, it is all around us. We can just minimize it, but it is needed in the environment.
Condensation is caused when the water from the skies starts going back to the earth, it can be through snow, rain or dew. It creates an effect of coolness, but it can be very damaging to your home. Imagine a window, bad to the bone damaged by condensation. Condensation does not come only from the outside, but also from inside our homes, like dishwashers, dryers and washing machines. These equipment uses water which when heat is applied, it causes a foggy effect and can cause humidity inside the house. Cooking can be another cause of humidity, because it needs water to be able to make a palatable gourmet. Our normal perspiration and breathing can add up to four pints in the air, causing mist in the window panes. Unfortunately de-humidifiers in the market can also add up to too much humidity inside the homes or establishments when they are defective. Another annoying cause which can be avoided is the poorly insulated spaces, which really attacks your home. It cant be avoided unless you have to request a complete rework of your home.
Nevertheless, condensation can not be avoided, and therefore there is a need to buy the best windows in town to avoid its adverse effects which can be tantamount to having a bad day daily.
Condensation can never be avoided because it is a normal reaction of photosynthesis, weather, our breathing and our daily chores in our houses. What is important is to get the right window pane protecting our family and friends when they visit our houses. Humidity can actually be good for moisturizing our skins, but very bad for our fixtures, and classic things which can attract molds and eventually destroys them. The trick here is to buy the best windows, apply the necessary sealant whenever necessary and buy the most appropriate humidifier, to have a worry free condensation effect.
Condensation can really caused damage into your walls, into your finest collection of furniture, and most of the time windows can be blamed for it. Choose a window where you can find the best sealant. Most of the time however, windows are not the major cause of condensation. As long as there is a facility of cold and heat mixing up together in the atmosphere be sure of condensation taking effect. To avoid such dreadful damaging scientific effect in your homes, it is best to put all fixtures especially wood away from damaging possibilities of condensation, like wooden tables and chairs near an air conditioning unit or heater. Books near the window panes, closed cabinets which have plenty of air exchange without any de humidifier. These are the best place where you can get those- pesky condensation damaging to your things, fixtures and you name it, your homes finest designs.
Condensation can be avoided by buying windows with excellent sealant, but it cannot be totally blamed on the windows, it is all around us. We can just minimize it, but it is needed in the environment.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Optional Functions for Cheap Bar Stools and Discount Seats
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：110 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 1:04:13
We've all been tempted by the discount bar stools available at most large department discount stores. Unfortunately, they're notoriously cheap and just not that comfortable, meaning they often wind up in the garbage instead
of in use.
Instead of throwing your bar stools out, keep reading for some creative uses for your collapsible and non-collapsible bar stools.
Plant Stands
For less than $10 a stool, you can create a tiered plant atrium that's funky and functional. First, look for cheap bar stools that have a solid, hard top rather than a padded seat. Then, cut each stand to a different height by
sawing off the legs, but be careful that the stool is still level.
Then start stripping, sanding and painting each one to match your design idea. Once they're ready, you'll have a tiered atrium and all for less than $10 a stool.
Bar stool customization doesn't have to stop at paint and plants. You can take it up a notch with decoupage collages, mosaic tiling or impressive beaded seats. Your funky design will instantly take that stool from discount to
diva.
Bedside Table
Discount bar stools make fantastic bedside tables. They're small, sturdy and unobtrusive. If you're worried about how it will blend in with your dcor, throw some fabric over it or a tablecloth to give it a softer look. If you like to
keep a glass of water by your bed, you should use a hard-topped stool rather than the vinyl-topped models.
For the really crafty, try picking up a cheapie bar stool at your local discount store and then reupholstering it with your own fabric. You'll take that discount vinyl stool and turn it into a masterpiece with leopard-print fun fur or a
prettily printed floral pattern.
Camping Stools
Folding lawn chairs are cumbersome and often overkill as they take up way more space than what's needed. Meanwhile, a folding and lightweight bar stool can be easily tucked in the car. Whether you're going to your kid's
soccer game, to watch fireworks down by the lake or spending a few days in the great outdoors, a portable stool is sure to come in handy.
Extra Seating
One of the best uses for discount bar stools is as extra seating for guests. For family reunions, local events, games nights or even as children's seating for dinner parties, those stools can go a long way.
Instead of buying massive stackable chairs that are cumbersome and take up space, a folding bar stool can be easily stacked or hung.
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We've all been tempted by the discount bar stools available at most large department discount stores. Unfortunately, they're notoriously cheap and just not that comfortable, meaning they often wind up in the garbage instead
of in use.
Instead of throwing your bar stools out, keep reading for some creative uses for your collapsible and non-collapsible bar stools.
Plant Stands
For less than $10 a stool, you can create a tiered plant atrium that's funky and functional. First, look for cheap bar stools that have a solid, hard top rather than a padded seat. Then, cut each stand to a different height by
sawing off the legs, but be careful that the stool is still level.
Then start stripping, sanding and painting each one to match your design idea. Once they're ready, you'll have a tiered atrium and all for less than $10 a stool.
Bar stool customization doesn't have to stop at paint and plants. You can take it up a notch with decoupage collages, mosaic tiling or impressive beaded seats. Your funky design will instantly take that stool from discount to
diva.
Bedside Table
Discount bar stools make fantastic bedside tables. They're small, sturdy and unobtrusive. If you're worried about how it will blend in with your dcor, throw some fabric over it or a tablecloth to give it a softer look. If you like to
keep a glass of water by your bed, you should use a hard-topped stool rather than the vinyl-topped models.
For the really crafty, try picking up a cheapie bar stool at your local discount store and then reupholstering it with your own fabric. You'll take that discount vinyl stool and turn it into a masterpiece with leopard-print fun fur or a
prettily printed floral pattern.
Camping Stools
Folding lawn chairs are cumbersome and often overkill as they take up way more space than what's needed. Meanwhile, a folding and lightweight bar stool can be easily tucked in the car. Whether you're going to your kid's
soccer game, to watch fireworks down by the lake or spending a few days in the great outdoors, a portable stool is sure to come in handy.
Extra Seating
One of the best uses for discount bar stools is as extra seating for guests. For family reunions, local events, games nights or even as children's seating for dinner parties, those stools can go a long way.
Instead of buying massive stackable chairs that are cumbersome and take up space, a folding bar stool can be easily stacked or hung.
uggs
chanel 2.55
burberry outlet
coach outlet
Monday, November 8, 2010
Natural Beauty on a Budget - No-Cost and Low-Cost Techniques For Beautiful Skin
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：123 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 0:31:33
Ok, no matter WHAT the ads tell you, the BEST things you can do for your skin are:
1) Drink plenty of water
2) Get enough quality rest
3) Minimize Stress - and don't STAY stressed - breathe, Meditate, dance, whatever it takes to de-stress (and always remember to laugh!)
4) Good nutrition - you'd think this would be a 'duh' - but it really is one of the most often over-looked must-do's
5) Exercise - yes, exercise - walking, running, aerobics, Yoga - heck I blast my 80s rock and 70s disco while the kids are at school and dance like an idiot while no one is home to watch! No one says exercise has to be boring, ritualized nor uniform. And, dancing has the added benefit of being FUN.
6) Take a quality Multi-Vitamin and Mineral supplement and please don't forget to supplement with Omega-3 Fish Oils and Flax Oil. You'll be amazed at the difference in your skin.
7) LOVE YOUR SKIN - ok, this sounds silly, but I'm serious. Thought creates reality. What the mind professes, the body expresses. Love your skin. Massage it, caress it, LOVE IT.
Now, for some no- and low-cost solutions for your skin....
1) Facial massage. Forget the creams for a minute. The single thing (besides general good health) that will benefit your face? Massage. Seriously. Wrinkles? Massage them. Sagging jaws? Massage them. Double chin? Again, Massage. Now, you can do this with your finger tips, with your favorite *rounded end* crystal or even with an electro-acupuncture device. But, bottom line is, massage!
You can combine the following facial exercises with your Skin Care program. Due to the fact that skin responds well to this type of stimulation, you will see results in lines, complexion, tone and elasticity. As an added bonus, this type of massage strengthens the underlying muscles and results in the signs of aging becoming diminished.
Use the balls of your fingertips as well as the palms of your hands. For all exercises, use gentle, but firm, pressure - this is not supposed to hurt!
If you notice that some spots you massage are tender this means you are probably hitting the precise spots. Tenderness will diminish and disappear altogether with time.
Toning around the eyes
Using your favorite Moisturizer or essential oil blend, use your middle fingers to work around each eye simultaneously. Use slight pressure - be gentle with the eye area - and circle the eyes from the inside corner of your eyebrows, following the entire eyebrow, and back around to where you started.
Repeat this circular massage 30-35 times (in one sitting) each day.
This type of stimulation of the facial muscles will tone, relax and increase Circulation to the eye area, which in turn results in diminished signs of aging.
Revitalizing the Eyes
In this exercise, the Acupressure point at the side of your face, approximately 1/4 inch past the outside corner of your eye (this is right on the outer curve of the bone around the eye), is stimulated. The second point to stimulate is directly in line and under your pupil on the top edge of the cheekbone.
Ok, no matter WHAT the ads tell you, the BEST things you can do for your skin are:
1) Drink plenty of water
2) Get enough quality rest
3) Minimize Stress - and don't STAY stressed - breathe, Meditate, dance, whatever it takes to de-stress (and always remember to laugh!)
4) Good nutrition - you'd think this would be a 'duh' - but it really is one of the most often over-looked must-do's
5) Exercise - yes, exercise - walking, running, aerobics, Yoga - heck I blast my 80s rock and 70s disco while the kids are at school and dance like an idiot while no one is home to watch! No one says exercise has to be boring, ritualized nor uniform. And, dancing has the added benefit of being FUN.
6) Take a quality Multi-Vitamin and Mineral supplement and please don't forget to supplement with Omega-3 Fish Oils and Flax Oil. You'll be amazed at the difference in your skin.
7) LOVE YOUR SKIN - ok, this sounds silly, but I'm serious. Thought creates reality. What the mind professes, the body expresses. Love your skin. Massage it, caress it, LOVE IT.
Now, for some no- and low-cost solutions for your skin....
1) Facial massage. Forget the creams for a minute. The single thing (besides general good health) that will benefit your face? Massage. Seriously. Wrinkles? Massage them. Sagging jaws? Massage them. Double chin? Again, Massage. Now, you can do this with your finger tips, with your favorite *rounded end* crystal or even with an electro-acupuncture device. But, bottom line is, massage!
You can combine the following facial exercises with your Skin Care program. Due to the fact that skin responds well to this type of stimulation, you will see results in lines, complexion, tone and elasticity. As an added bonus, this type of massage strengthens the underlying muscles and results in the signs of aging becoming diminished.
Use the balls of your fingertips as well as the palms of your hands. For all exercises, use gentle, but firm, pressure - this is not supposed to hurt!
If you notice that some spots you massage are tender this means you are probably hitting the precise spots. Tenderness will diminish and disappear altogether with time.
Toning around the eyes
Using your favorite Moisturizer or essential oil blend, use your middle fingers to work around each eye simultaneously. Use slight pressure - be gentle with the eye area - and circle the eyes from the inside corner of your eyebrows, following the entire eyebrow, and back around to where you started.
Repeat this circular massage 30-35 times (in one sitting) each day.
This type of stimulation of the facial muscles will tone, relax and increase Circulation to the eye area, which in turn results in diminished signs of aging.
Revitalizing the Eyes
In this exercise, the Acupressure point at the side of your face, approximately 1/4 inch past the outside corner of your eye (this is right on the outer curve of the bone around the eye), is stimulated. The second point to stimulate is directly in line and under your pupil on the top edge of the cheekbone.
How Can You Prevent Vericose Vein Pain?
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：116 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 0:31:36
While most varicose veins do not have any symptoms, some affected with them usually experience pain. Other symptoms include itching around one or more affected veins. There is also that achy or heavy feeling in the legs, burning and throbbing in the legs, muscle cramping, and swelling of the lower legs. The most severe cases usually develop skin ulcers near the ankle.
There are several factors that contribute to the development of varicose veins. Women, for example, are more likely to experience varicose veins than men. Hormonal changes such as pregnancy, pre-menstruation, or menopause, are some of the possible causes. Genes could hand down varicose veins too. Aging also contributes to the wear and tear of the veins, causing the valves within those veins to malfunction. Moreover, excessive weight as well as standing and sitting for long periods of time could give one varicose veins too.
Usually, self-help measures are effective in easing the pain in varicose veins and may prevent the condition from worsening. Listed below are a few of them.
Wearing Compression Stockings
Self-care measures start by wearing compression stockings. When worn all day, compression stockings squeeze the legs and help the veins and leg muscles to move blood. The amount of compression usually varies b type and brand. Fortunately, there are many types and brands of stockings to choose from. Patients can now choose the most comfortable ones. Before buying compression stockings, keep in mind that they should fit properly. Determining the right fit is easy. Using a tape measure, you or a companion can measure your legs to get the right size and fit.
Regular Exercise
Of course, there are also traditional common-sense approaches to preventing varicose veins. One is regular exercise. Exercise, such as walking, promotes proper blood circulation. Thus, walking regularly improves blood flow and prevents overtaxing of the veins.
Proper Diet
Because excessive weight puts unnecessary pressure on the veins, losing weight may also help prevent varicose veins. A low-salt, high fiber diet prevents swelling of the veins resulting from water retention and constipation.
Low-heeled Shoes
You may also consider switching your high heels for low-heeled shoes. Low-heeled shoes work calf muscles, which in turn is good for the veins because blood circulation is improved. Tight clothing and undergarments are not advisable because they impede blood circulation.
Elevate Your Legs
Elevating your legs daily above the level of the heart improves venous circulation. Do this by lying down with your legs resting on three or four pillows.
Proper Postures for Good Circulation
Avoid sitting or standing for long periods of time. Change positions frequently to encourage good circulation. Change your position at least every 30 minutes. When sitting down, avoid crossing your legs. The position only worsens circulation problems.
Pretty much of the measures to prevent varicose veins are easy to perform and are common activities done daily. Practicing these good habits not only help prevent varicose veins, they contribute to your general well being as well. So put on your low-heeled shoes and start walking.
While most varicose veins do not have any symptoms, some affected with them usually experience pain. Other symptoms include itching around one or more affected veins. There is also that achy or heavy feeling in the legs, burning and throbbing in the legs, muscle cramping, and swelling of the lower legs. The most severe cases usually develop skin ulcers near the ankle.
There are several factors that contribute to the development of varicose veins. Women, for example, are more likely to experience varicose veins than men. Hormonal changes such as pregnancy, pre-menstruation, or menopause, are some of the possible causes. Genes could hand down varicose veins too. Aging also contributes to the wear and tear of the veins, causing the valves within those veins to malfunction. Moreover, excessive weight as well as standing and sitting for long periods of time could give one varicose veins too.
Usually, self-help measures are effective in easing the pain in varicose veins and may prevent the condition from worsening. Listed below are a few of them.
Wearing Compression Stockings
Self-care measures start by wearing compression stockings. When worn all day, compression stockings squeeze the legs and help the veins and leg muscles to move blood. The amount of compression usually varies b type and brand. Fortunately, there are many types and brands of stockings to choose from. Patients can now choose the most comfortable ones. Before buying compression stockings, keep in mind that they should fit properly. Determining the right fit is easy. Using a tape measure, you or a companion can measure your legs to get the right size and fit.
Regular Exercise
Of course, there are also traditional common-sense approaches to preventing varicose veins. One is regular exercise. Exercise, such as walking, promotes proper blood circulation. Thus, walking regularly improves blood flow and prevents overtaxing of the veins.
Proper Diet
Because excessive weight puts unnecessary pressure on the veins, losing weight may also help prevent varicose veins. A low-salt, high fiber diet prevents swelling of the veins resulting from water retention and constipation.
Low-heeled Shoes
You may also consider switching your high heels for low-heeled shoes. Low-heeled shoes work calf muscles, which in turn is good for the veins because blood circulation is improved. Tight clothing and undergarments are not advisable because they impede blood circulation.
Elevate Your Legs
Elevating your legs daily above the level of the heart improves venous circulation. Do this by lying down with your legs resting on three or four pillows.
Proper Postures for Good Circulation
Avoid sitting or standing for long periods of time. Change positions frequently to encourage good circulation. Change your position at least every 30 minutes. When sitting down, avoid crossing your legs. The position only worsens circulation problems.
Pretty much of the measures to prevent varicose veins are easy to perform and are common activities done daily. Practicing these good habits not only help prevent varicose veins, they contribute to your general well being as well. So put on your low-heeled shoes and start walking.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Bad Credit Unsecured Loan: Your Chance Of Making A New Start
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：130 UpdateTime：2008-10-18 23:45:03
A large number of people find it tough to avail financial aid with a bad credit tag. Fear of the lender about non repayment and the risk involved are one of the chief reasons. With no amount of financial relief and a sluggish financial condition further makes the situation a lot worse. Moreover you are not in apposition to pledge collateral which makes the going tough. Well, there are ways through which you can now reverse the situation. This can be done by applying for a bad credit unsecured loan.
This loan is particular designed for all those individuals who are facing some sort of credit problems and are not in a position to pledge collateral or do not have any. You are free to avail this loan and use it to meet any personal demand such as consolidating debts, purchasing a car, meeting wedding expenses, financing education etc.
One of the prime concerns of the lender, before approving the loan is that whether you are capable of repaying the amount or not. In this regard, they may ask for documents related to your employment status, income details, recent bank statements etc. if the lender finds your condition fitting enough, the approval of the amount comes without any further delay. If possible, before availing the loan, it is better to pay and shed away some debts. With an improved credit score, you will be able to derive the loan with better terms and conditions.
Through the loan, you can derive a small amount in the range of 1000-25000. The repayment tenure too is short and spans over a period of 6months-10 years. Since the lenders have taken considerable risk by approving the loan without any security despite your credit woes, the interest rate levied are slightly higher. This is done to cut down the risk factor involved. However a detailed research of the market will help you to derive the loan with competitive rates.
To find the best loan deals on bad credit unsecured loan, it is preferable to use the online mode. as the market is full of lenders offering the loan, the terms and conditions will certainly vary. So a proper research by comparing the rate quotes of various lenders will help you derive the best low rate deals.
A large number of people find it tough to avail financial aid with a bad credit tag. Fear of the lender about non repayment and the risk involved are one of the chief reasons. With no amount of financial relief and a sluggish financial condition further makes the situation a lot worse. Moreover you are not in apposition to pledge collateral which makes the going tough. Well, there are ways through which you can now reverse the situation. This can be done by applying for a bad credit unsecured loan.
This loan is particular designed for all those individuals who are facing some sort of credit problems and are not in a position to pledge collateral or do not have any. You are free to avail this loan and use it to meet any personal demand such as consolidating debts, purchasing a car, meeting wedding expenses, financing education etc.
One of the prime concerns of the lender, before approving the loan is that whether you are capable of repaying the amount or not. In this regard, they may ask for documents related to your employment status, income details, recent bank statements etc. if the lender finds your condition fitting enough, the approval of the amount comes without any further delay. If possible, before availing the loan, it is better to pay and shed away some debts. With an improved credit score, you will be able to derive the loan with better terms and conditions.
Through the loan, you can derive a small amount in the range of 1000-25000. The repayment tenure too is short and spans over a period of 6months-10 years. Since the lenders have taken considerable risk by approving the loan without any security despite your credit woes, the interest rate levied are slightly higher. This is done to cut down the risk factor involved. However a detailed research of the market will help you to derive the loan with competitive rates.
To find the best loan deals on bad credit unsecured loan, it is preferable to use the online mode. as the market is full of lenders offering the loan, the terms and conditions will certainly vary. So a proper research by comparing the rate quotes of various lenders will help you derive the best low rate deals.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Teen Pregnancy: One is a Tragedy, Thousands Only a Statistic
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：127 UpdateTime：2008-10-18 23:39:56
Teen pregnancy statistics can be very misleading. Making sense of them is somewhat like assigning meaning to tea leaves: they can say almost whatever you want them to say.
For instance, common wisdom has it that the United States and the United Kingdom alone lead the developed world in teen birth rates and that Denmark is among the nations with the lowest rates. This leads people to conclude that whatever Denmark is doing to prevent teen pregnancy must be working, and whatever America and Britain are doing is not. But even that simple, widely accepted statistic begs further examination.
First one must recognize that "birth rates" are not quite the same thing as "pregnancy rates." A nation may have high teenage pregnancy rates, but if offset by high abortion rates, the resulting birth rate may give a false impression. Further clouding the issue, some countries prefer not to report abortion rates, and others cantbecause, for various reasons, they dont know what they are. Incidentally, Japan actually has the lowest teen pregnancy rates, as well as low abortion ratesless than half that of Denmark for both statistics. And Japans statistics are measured for all women under 20, not just ages 15 to 19 as most other nations report them.
Still considering the same oft-reported factoid, there are other questions that have a bearing on its usefulness. Particularly, what is teen pregnancy and why should it bother us? In the minds of most, discussions about this subject refer to teenage girls who are unmarried and pregnant. The concern arises across political and religious lines in part because single young mothers and their children are shown to be exposed to much higher risks of all sorts, whether mental, emotional, physical or economic. It isn't good for anyone when young, unmarried girls become young, unmarried mothers.
Butoddly enoughnational statistics arent reported by marital status. Married teens are counted with single teens when birth rates are reported by age. This means that statistics may include a large percentage of 18- and 19-year-olds who are married and who, in some cultures, may be surrounded by extended family supportnot subject to the same risks as single teens whose lives will be seriously impacted by the struggle to raise a child alone in harsh economic circumstances. As studies have consistently demonstrated, children with fathers as well as mothers have higher levels of well-being by almost all measures. Certainly, even married teen parents may have a lot to learn, but in cultures where extended family is routinely present, this deficiency may be overcome more easily.
Then there is the term "developed world." In some reports, the word "Western" is substituted for developed, but both carry a certain amount of ambiguity. Does one consider New Zealand to be developed even if not precisely Western? If so, one also has to point out that it often beats out Britain for the second spot. As of 2006 figures (the latest compiled) the two nations are, in fact, neck and neck.
Teen pregnancy statistics can be very misleading. Making sense of them is somewhat like assigning meaning to tea leaves: they can say almost whatever you want them to say.
For instance, common wisdom has it that the United States and the United Kingdom alone lead the developed world in teen birth rates and that Denmark is among the nations with the lowest rates. This leads people to conclude that whatever Denmark is doing to prevent teen pregnancy must be working, and whatever America and Britain are doing is not. But even that simple, widely accepted statistic begs further examination.
First one must recognize that "birth rates" are not quite the same thing as "pregnancy rates." A nation may have high teenage pregnancy rates, but if offset by high abortion rates, the resulting birth rate may give a false impression. Further clouding the issue, some countries prefer not to report abortion rates, and others cantbecause, for various reasons, they dont know what they are. Incidentally, Japan actually has the lowest teen pregnancy rates, as well as low abortion ratesless than half that of Denmark for both statistics. And Japans statistics are measured for all women under 20, not just ages 15 to 19 as most other nations report them.
Still considering the same oft-reported factoid, there are other questions that have a bearing on its usefulness. Particularly, what is teen pregnancy and why should it bother us? In the minds of most, discussions about this subject refer to teenage girls who are unmarried and pregnant. The concern arises across political and religious lines in part because single young mothers and their children are shown to be exposed to much higher risks of all sorts, whether mental, emotional, physical or economic. It isn't good for anyone when young, unmarried girls become young, unmarried mothers.
Butoddly enoughnational statistics arent reported by marital status. Married teens are counted with single teens when birth rates are reported by age. This means that statistics may include a large percentage of 18- and 19-year-olds who are married and who, in some cultures, may be surrounded by extended family supportnot subject to the same risks as single teens whose lives will be seriously impacted by the struggle to raise a child alone in harsh economic circumstances. As studies have consistently demonstrated, children with fathers as well as mothers have higher levels of well-being by almost all measures. Certainly, even married teen parents may have a lot to learn, but in cultures where extended family is routinely present, this deficiency may be overcome more easily.
Then there is the term "developed world." In some reports, the word "Western" is substituted for developed, but both carry a certain amount of ambiguity. Does one consider New Zealand to be developed even if not precisely Western? If so, one also has to point out that it often beats out Britain for the second spot. As of 2006 figures (the latest compiled) the two nations are, in fact, neck and neck.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Equipment Utilized By Nurses
When a nurse begins her profession as a practitioner in the nursing field, a new world awaits her in an exciting profession that is growing every day. Nurses may specialize in a particular field, or may be general nurses that
are available across a wide range of specializations. Either way, nurses require equipment to perform daily duties regardless of what specialization they are in. Some nurses may only require standard equipment, whereas
others may work in a specialization that will require advanced equipment. Examples of general nurses may be ward nurses or nurses in doctor's office, whereas specialized nurses can be found in pediatric wards, psychiatric
wings, on surgery rotations, and so on. Each nurse will require their own set of equipment as stipulated by their standards of practice.
Technology today has changed the face of the nursing profession, with nurses having access to more state of the art equipment than ever before. Apart from various equipment and tools that may be used from one
specialization to another however, standard nursing equipment has not changed. Most nurses today require in their daily routine shoes, uniform, watch, scissors, stethoscope, and sometimes blood pressure cuffs or other
tools of relevance. In some cases, these tools are provided at stations for easy access to nurses, however in many cases, the nurses must have immediate access to these tools on their person at all times.
The profession of nursing is one that is high-energy and fast-paced at any given moment in time. Because of this, nurses do a lot of walking in their daily practice, and maybe even more than in any other profession. As a
result, practical shoes are needed by nurses in order to maintain their own health and physical fitness. In some cases, shoes can be purchased through specialty shops that are ergonomically designed with the nurses walking
needs in minds. Correct foot wear is necessary for nurses in order to avoid back problems, gait issues, or muscular problems. Due to the daily use that nursing shoes will undergo, durability in footwear is also an essential for
the nursing profession.
A stethoscope is another piece of equipment vital to every nurse. Almost all nurses are required to have their own stethoscope and to know how to use it properly. A stethoscope that can be used across a wide range of
patients is the most recommended, so one that can be used on babies, children, and adults is the type of stethoscope that should be used by the everyday nurse. Stethoscopes are used in a wide range of practices and
utilized for many different types of exams, as well as to verify an individual's vitals and current condition. Assessing vital signs is an integral component to the nursing profession, and a stethoscope is a must.
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Gone are the days of prim skirts and pointy hats in pristine white condition when it comes to the uniform of today's nurse. Today's nurse typically wears what are known as nursing scrubs, and this is standard across almost
every profession of nursing. Today's nursing scrubs include comfortable pants that are easy to move in and use an elastic or drawstring waistband. Because nurses are moving frequently, and moving patients, comfort is key
to their every day attire. Loose fitting tops with V-necks are also common to nursing scrubs. In some cases, nurses can have pockets on their scrubs to hold essential equipment, and in others, a scrub jacket with pockets can
be used as well. Nursing scrubs are not just critical in their comfort and durability, but also in the maintenance of an environment that is sterile and hygienic for the patients they are working with.
are available across a wide range of specializations. Either way, nurses require equipment to perform daily duties regardless of what specialization they are in. Some nurses may only require standard equipment, whereas
others may work in a specialization that will require advanced equipment. Examples of general nurses may be ward nurses or nurses in doctor's office, whereas specialized nurses can be found in pediatric wards, psychiatric
wings, on surgery rotations, and so on. Each nurse will require their own set of equipment as stipulated by their standards of practice.
Technology today has changed the face of the nursing profession, with nurses having access to more state of the art equipment than ever before. Apart from various equipment and tools that may be used from one
specialization to another however, standard nursing equipment has not changed. Most nurses today require in their daily routine shoes, uniform, watch, scissors, stethoscope, and sometimes blood pressure cuffs or other
tools of relevance. In some cases, these tools are provided at stations for easy access to nurses, however in many cases, the nurses must have immediate access to these tools on their person at all times.
The profession of nursing is one that is high-energy and fast-paced at any given moment in time. Because of this, nurses do a lot of walking in their daily practice, and maybe even more than in any other profession. As a
result, practical shoes are needed by nurses in order to maintain their own health and physical fitness. In some cases, shoes can be purchased through specialty shops that are ergonomically designed with the nurses walking
needs in minds. Correct foot wear is necessary for nurses in order to avoid back problems, gait issues, or muscular problems. Due to the daily use that nursing shoes will undergo, durability in footwear is also an essential for
the nursing profession.
A stethoscope is another piece of equipment vital to every nurse. Almost all nurses are required to have their own stethoscope and to know how to use it properly. A stethoscope that can be used across a wide range of
patients is the most recommended, so one that can be used on babies, children, and adults is the type of stethoscope that should be used by the everyday nurse. Stethoscopes are used in a wide range of practices and
utilized for many different types of exams, as well as to verify an individual's vitals and current condition. Assessing vital signs is an integral component to the nursing profession, and a stethoscope is a must.
burberry outlet
chanel 2.55
Gone are the days of prim skirts and pointy hats in pristine white condition when it comes to the uniform of today's nurse. Today's nurse typically wears what are known as nursing scrubs, and this is standard across almost
every profession of nursing. Today's nursing scrubs include comfortable pants that are easy to move in and use an elastic or drawstring waistband. Because nurses are moving frequently, and moving patients, comfort is key
to their every day attire. Loose fitting tops with V-necks are also common to nursing scrubs. In some cases, nurses can have pockets on their scrubs to hold essential equipment, and in others, a scrub jacket with pockets can
be used as well. Nursing scrubs are not just critical in their comfort and durability, but also in the maintenance of an environment that is sterile and hygienic for the patients they are working with.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Website design services for creating effective landing pages
A landing page is the first page a user lands on after following a link. A good website design professional will create a landing page with the aim of providing user information within the first two clicks. As this is the first page a
searcher lands on after clicking on a link ? the page should clearly define the information being searched. Landing pages are normally more detailed pages and provide additional information on the text followed in the link. A
landing page does not necessarily have to be the Homepage. Any internal page providing more information on the queried search term would be a landing page for the visitor.
There are different ways of reaching a landing page: a. Through a link on the homepage. b. Following links from syndicated articles, blog posts, press releases etc. c. Following a link displayed in the organic search results. d.
Clicking on a displayed add etc.
Designing an effective landing page that holds a user?s attention and clearly helps him understand what is expected of him can contribute a lot to improving conversions.
While creating a Landing page make sure that the page has sufficient information laid out in a manner that is easy to follow. This would make it easy and helpful for users in making a buying decision. While designing a
landing page website design professionals keep certain parameters in mind so as to maximize the full potential of the page. Some of these are mentioned below.
Each page should outline a clear path that a visitor can follow. The headlines should be in context to the theme of the page and sum up what the landing page is promoting. There should be a logical sequence assigned to the
path. Headlines should match the goal of the page.
Call for Action A prominent Call for Action (that prompts a visitor to take the next step) should be well highlighted. It should directly take the user to the conversion page. This should be in synchronization with the goal of the
site. CFA?s should be consistent and relevant and whatever you choose should deliver value in exchange for the user's action. User Benefit The page should identify how the offering would benefit the user, if the website
services are availed.
Highlight Areas Add important points at the beginning of paragraphs. Bulleted points provide better readability as most users tend to read the beginning and last paragraphs and mostly skim through the rest of the content.
Highlighting and bulleting brings the eye to the area for which you want visibility.
In addition short paragraphs not more than 5-6 lines long have a better chance of being read than very long paragraphs. Text should be readable with a clear legible font and no grammatical or spelling errors.
The page should be readable by both human visitors and search engine spiders. Ensuring that the page is free of any search engine roadblocks will take the page one step closer to better search engine placement.
searcher lands on after clicking on a link ? the page should clearly define the information being searched. Landing pages are normally more detailed pages and provide additional information on the text followed in the link. A
landing page does not necessarily have to be the Homepage. Any internal page providing more information on the queried search term would be a landing page for the visitor.
There are different ways of reaching a landing page: a. Through a link on the homepage. b. Following links from syndicated articles, blog posts, press releases etc. c. Following a link displayed in the organic search results. d.
Clicking on a displayed add etc.
Designing an effective landing page that holds a user?s attention and clearly helps him understand what is expected of him can contribute a lot to improving conversions.
While creating a Landing page make sure that the page has sufficient information laid out in a manner that is easy to follow. This would make it easy and helpful for users in making a buying decision. While designing a
landing page website design professionals keep certain parameters in mind so as to maximize the full potential of the page. Some of these are mentioned below.
Each page should outline a clear path that a visitor can follow. The headlines should be in context to the theme of the page and sum up what the landing page is promoting. There should be a logical sequence assigned to the
path. Headlines should match the goal of the page.
Call for Action A prominent Call for Action (that prompts a visitor to take the next step) should be well highlighted. It should directly take the user to the conversion page. This should be in synchronization with the goal of the
site. CFA?s should be consistent and relevant and whatever you choose should deliver value in exchange for the user's action. User Benefit The page should identify how the offering would benefit the user, if the website
services are availed.
Highlight Areas Add important points at the beginning of paragraphs. Bulleted points provide better readability as most users tend to read the beginning and last paragraphs and mostly skim through the rest of the content.
Highlighting and bulleting brings the eye to the area for which you want visibility.
In addition short paragraphs not more than 5-6 lines long have a better chance of being read than very long paragraphs. Text should be readable with a clear legible font and no grammatical or spelling errors.
The page should be readable by both human visitors and search engine spiders. Ensuring that the page is free of any search engine roadblocks will take the page one step closer to better search engine placement.
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