As the curses came shooting across the intervening space again, Hagrid swerved and zigzagged: Harry knew that Hagrid did not dare use the dragon-fire button again, with Harry seated so insecurely. Harry sent Stunning Spell after Stunning Spell back at their pursuers, barely holding them off. He shot another blocking jinx at them: The closest Death Eater swerved to avoid it and his hood slipped, and by the red light of his next Stunning Spell, Harry saw the strangely blank face of Stanley Shunpike – Stan –
“Expelliarmus!“ Harry yelled.
“That’s him, it’s him, it’s the real one!”
The hooded Death Eater’s shout reached Harry even above the thunder of the motorbike’s engine: Next moment, both pursuers had fallen back and disappeared from view.
“Harry, what’s happened?” bellowed Hagrid. “Where’ve they gone?”
“I don’t know!”
But Harry was afraid: The hooded Death Eater had shouted, “It’s the real one!”; how had he known? He gazed around at the apparently empty darkness and felt its menace. Where were they?
He clambered around on the seat to face forward and seized hold of the back of Hagrid’s jacket.
“Hagrid, do the dragon-fire thing again, let’s get out of here!”
“Hold on tight, then, Harry!”
There was a deafening, screeching roar again and the white-blue fire shot from the exhaust: Harry felt himself slipping backwards off what little of the seat he had.
Hagrid flung backward upon him, barely maintaining his grip on the handlebars – “I think we’ve lost ‘em Harry, I think we’ve done it!” yelled Hagrid.
But Harry was not convinced; Fear lapped at him as he looked left and right for pursuers he was sure would come…. Why had they fallen back? One of them had still had a wand…. It’s him… it’s the real one…. They had said it right after he had tried to Disarm Stan….
“We’re nearly there, Harry, we’ve nearly made it!” shouted Hagrid.
Harry felt the bike drop a little, though the lights down on the ground still seemed remote as stars.
Then the scar on his forehead burned like fire: as a Death Eater appeared on either side of the bike, two Killing Curses missed Harry by millimeters, cast from behind – And then Harry saw him. Voldemort was flying like smoke on the wind, without broomstick or thestral to hold him, his snake-like face gleaming out of the blackness, his white fingers raising his wand again –
Hagrid let out a bellow of fear and steered the motorbike into a vertical dive. Clinging on for dear life, Harry sent Stunning Spells flying at random into the whirling night. He saw a body fly past him and knew he had hit one of them, but then he heard a bang and saw sparks from the engine; the motorbike spiraled through the air, completely out of control –
Green jets of light shot past them again. Harry had no idea which way was up, which down: His scar was still burning; he expected to die at any second. A hooded figure on a broomstick was feet from him, he saw it raise its arm –
“NO!”
With a shout of fury Hagrid launched himself off the bike at the Death Eater; to his horror, Harry saw both Hagrid and the Death Eater, falling out of sight, their combined weight too much for the broomstick –
Barely gripping the plummeting bike with his knees, Harry heard Voldemort scream, “Mine!”
It was over: He could not see or hear where Voldemort was; he glimpsed another Death Eater swooping out of the way and heard, “Avada – ”
As the pain from Harry’s scar forced his eyes shut, his wand acted of its own accord. He felt it drag his hand around like some great magnet, saw a spurt of golden fire through his half-closed eyelids, heard a crack and a scream of fury. The remaining Death Eater yelled; Voldemort screamed, “NO!” Somehow, Harry found his nose an inch from the dragon-fire button. He punched it with his wand-free hand and the bike shot more flames into the air, hurtling straight toward the ground.
“Hagrid!“ Harry called, holding on to the bike for dear life. “Hagrid – Accio Hagrid!”
The motorbike sped up, sucked towards the earth. Face level with the handlebars, Harry could see nothing but distant lights growing nearer and nearer: He was going to crash and there was nothing he could do about it. Behind him came another scream, “Your wand, Selwyn, give me your wand!”
He felt Voldemort before he saw him. Looking sideways, he stared into the red eyes and was sure they would be the last thing he ever saw: Voldemort preparing to curse him once more –
And then Voldemort vanished. Harry looked down and saw Hagrid spread-eagled on the ground below him. He pulled hard at the handlebars to avoid hitting him, groped for the brake, but with an earsplitting, ground trembling crash, he smashed into a muddy pond.
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Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
“I understand what a nickname is,”
“I understand what a nickname is,” said Snape. The cold, black eyes were boring once more into Harry's; he tried not to look into them. Close your mind... close your
mind... but he had never learned how to do it properly...
“Do you know what I think, Potter?” said Snape, very quietly. “I think that you are a liar and a cheat and that you deserve detention with me every Saturday until
the end of term. What do you think, Potter?”
“I—I don't agree, sir,” said Harry, still refusing to look into Snape's eyes.
“Well, we shall see how you feel after your detentions,” said Snape. “Ten o'clock Saturday morning, Potter. My office.”
“But sir,” said Harry, looking up desperately. “Quidditch... the last match of the—”
“Ten o'clock,” whispered Snape, with a smile that showed his yellow teeth. “Poor Gryffindor... fourth place this year, I fear...”
And he left the bathroom without another word, leaving Harry to stare into the cracked mirror, feeling sicker, he was sure, than Ron had ever felt in his life.
“I won't say ‘I told you so,'” said Hermione, an hour later in the common room.
“Leave it, Hermione,” said Ron angrily.
Harry had never made it to dinner; he had no appetite at all. He had just finished telling Ron, Hermione, and Ginny what had happened, not that there seemed to have
been much need. The news had traveled very fast: apparently Moaning Myrtle had taken it upon herself to pop up in every bathroom in the castle to tell the story; Malfoy
had already been visited in the hospital wing by Pansy Parkinson, who had lost no time in vilifying Harry far and wide, and Snape had told the staff precisely what had
happened. Harry had already been called out of the common room to endure fifteen highly unpleasant minutes in the company of Professor McGonagall, who had told him he
was lucky not to have been expelled and that she supported wholeheartedly Snape's punishment of detention every Saturday until the end of term.
“I told you there was something wrong with that Prince person,” Hermione said, evidently unable to stop herself. “And I was right, wasn't I.”
“No, I don't think you were,” said Harry stubbornly.
He was having a bad enough time without Hermione lecturing him; the looks on the Gryffindor team's faces when he had told them he would not be able to play on Saturday
had been the worst punishment of all. He could feel Ginny's eyes on him now but did not meet them; he did not want to see disappointment or anger there. He had just
told her that she would be playing Seeker on Saturday and that Dean would be rejoining the team as Chaser in her place. Perhaps, if they won, Ginny and Dean would make
up during the post-match euphoria... the thought went through Harry like an icy knife...
“Harry,” said Hermione, “how can you still stick up for that book when that spell —”
“Will you stop harping on about the book!” snapped Harry. “The Prince only copied it out! It's not like he was advising anyone to use it! For all we know, he was
making a note of something that had been used against him!”
“I don't believe this,” said Hermione. “You're actually defending—”
“I'm not defending what I did!” said Harry quickly. “I wish I hadn't done it, and not just because I've got about a dozen detentions. You know I wouldn't've used a
spell like that, not even on Malfoy, but you can't blame the Prince, he hadn't written ‘Try this out, it's really good'—he was just making notes for himself, wasn't
he, not for anyone else...”
mind... but he had never learned how to do it properly...
“Do you know what I think, Potter?” said Snape, very quietly. “I think that you are a liar and a cheat and that you deserve detention with me every Saturday until
the end of term. What do you think, Potter?”
“I—I don't agree, sir,” said Harry, still refusing to look into Snape's eyes.
“Well, we shall see how you feel after your detentions,” said Snape. “Ten o'clock Saturday morning, Potter. My office.”
“But sir,” said Harry, looking up desperately. “Quidditch... the last match of the—”
“Ten o'clock,” whispered Snape, with a smile that showed his yellow teeth. “Poor Gryffindor... fourth place this year, I fear...”
And he left the bathroom without another word, leaving Harry to stare into the cracked mirror, feeling sicker, he was sure, than Ron had ever felt in his life.
“I won't say ‘I told you so,'” said Hermione, an hour later in the common room.
“Leave it, Hermione,” said Ron angrily.
Harry had never made it to dinner; he had no appetite at all. He had just finished telling Ron, Hermione, and Ginny what had happened, not that there seemed to have
been much need. The news had traveled very fast: apparently Moaning Myrtle had taken it upon herself to pop up in every bathroom in the castle to tell the story; Malfoy
had already been visited in the hospital wing by Pansy Parkinson, who had lost no time in vilifying Harry far and wide, and Snape had told the staff precisely what had
happened. Harry had already been called out of the common room to endure fifteen highly unpleasant minutes in the company of Professor McGonagall, who had told him he
was lucky not to have been expelled and that she supported wholeheartedly Snape's punishment of detention every Saturday until the end of term.
“I told you there was something wrong with that Prince person,” Hermione said, evidently unable to stop herself. “And I was right, wasn't I.”
“No, I don't think you were,” said Harry stubbornly.
He was having a bad enough time without Hermione lecturing him; the looks on the Gryffindor team's faces when he had told them he would not be able to play on Saturday
had been the worst punishment of all. He could feel Ginny's eyes on him now but did not meet them; he did not want to see disappointment or anger there. He had just
told her that she would be playing Seeker on Saturday and that Dean would be rejoining the team as Chaser in her place. Perhaps, if they won, Ginny and Dean would make
up during the post-match euphoria... the thought went through Harry like an icy knife...
“Harry,” said Hermione, “how can you still stick up for that book when that spell —”
“Will you stop harping on about the book!” snapped Harry. “The Prince only copied it out! It's not like he was advising anyone to use it! For all we know, he was
making a note of something that had been used against him!”
“I don't believe this,” said Hermione. “You're actually defending—”
“I'm not defending what I did!” said Harry quickly. “I wish I hadn't done it, and not just because I've got about a dozen detentions. You know I wouldn't've used a
spell like that, not even on Malfoy, but you can't blame the Prince, he hadn't written ‘Try this out, it's really good'—he was just making notes for himself, wasn't
he, not for anyone else...”
He gasped. Despite his haste, his panic
He gasped. Despite his haste, his panic, his fear of what awaited him back in the bathroom, he could not help but be overawed by what he was looking at. He was standing
in a room the size of a large cathedral, whose high windows were sending shafts of light down upon what looked like a city with towering walls, built of what Harry knew
must be objects hidden by generations of Hogwarts inhabitants. There were alleyways and roads bordered by tetering piles of broken and damaged furniture, stowed away,
perhaps, to hide the evidence of mishandled magic, or else hidden by castle-proud house-elves. There were thousands and thousands of books, no doubt banned or
graffitied or stolen. There were winged catapults and Fanged Frisbees, some still with enough life in them to hover half-heartedly over the mountains of other forbidden
items; there were chipped bottles of congealed potions, hats, jewels, cloaks; there were what looked like dragon eggshells, corked bottles whose contents still
shimmered evilly, several rusting swords, and a heavy, bloodstained axe.
Harry hurried forward into one of the many alleyways between all this hidden treasure. He turned right past an enormous stuffed troll, ran on a short way, took a left
at the broken Vanishing Cabinet in which Montague had got lost the previous year, finally pausing beside a large cupboard that seemed to have had acid thrown at its
blistered surface. He opened one of the cupboard's creaking doors: it had already been used as a hiding place for something in a cage that had long since died; its
skeleton had five legs. He stuffed the Half-Blood Prince's book behind the cage and slammed the door. He paused for a moment, his heart thumping horribly, gazing around
at all the clutter... would he be able to find this spot again amidst all this junk? Seizing the chipped bust of an ugly old warlock from on top of a nearby crate, he
stood it on top of the cupboard where the book was now hidden, perched a dusty old wig and a tarnished tiara on the statues head to make it more distinctive, then
sprinted back through the alleyways of hidden junk as fast as he could go, back to the door, back out onto the corridor, where he slammed the door behind him, and it
turned at once back into stone.
Harry ran flat-out toward the bathroom on the floor below, cramming Ron's copy of Advanced Potion-Making into his bag as he did so. A minute later, he was back in front
of Snape, who held out his hand wordlessly for Harry's schoolbag. Harry handed it over, panting, a searing pain in his chest, and waited.
One by one, Snape extracted Harry's books and examined them. Finally, the only book left was the Potions book, which he looked at very carefully before speaking.
“This is your copy of Advanced Potion-Making, is it, Potter?”
“Yes,” said Harry, still breathing hard.
“You're quite sure of that, are you, Potter?”
“Yes,” said Harry, with a touch more defiance.
“This is the copy of Advanced Potion-Making that you purchased from Flourish and Blotts?”
“Yes,” said Harry firmly.
“Then why,” asked Snape, “does it have the name ‘Roonil Wazlib’ written inside the front cover?”
Harry's heart missed a beat. “That's my nickname,” he said.
“Your nickname,” repeated Snape.
“Yeah... that's what my friends call me,” said Harry.c
in a room the size of a large cathedral, whose high windows were sending shafts of light down upon what looked like a city with towering walls, built of what Harry knew
must be objects hidden by generations of Hogwarts inhabitants. There were alleyways and roads bordered by tetering piles of broken and damaged furniture, stowed away,
perhaps, to hide the evidence of mishandled magic, or else hidden by castle-proud house-elves. There were thousands and thousands of books, no doubt banned or
graffitied or stolen. There were winged catapults and Fanged Frisbees, some still with enough life in them to hover half-heartedly over the mountains of other forbidden
items; there were chipped bottles of congealed potions, hats, jewels, cloaks; there were what looked like dragon eggshells, corked bottles whose contents still
shimmered evilly, several rusting swords, and a heavy, bloodstained axe.
Harry hurried forward into one of the many alleyways between all this hidden treasure. He turned right past an enormous stuffed troll, ran on a short way, took a left
at the broken Vanishing Cabinet in which Montague had got lost the previous year, finally pausing beside a large cupboard that seemed to have had acid thrown at its
blistered surface. He opened one of the cupboard's creaking doors: it had already been used as a hiding place for something in a cage that had long since died; its
skeleton had five legs. He stuffed the Half-Blood Prince's book behind the cage and slammed the door. He paused for a moment, his heart thumping horribly, gazing around
at all the clutter... would he be able to find this spot again amidst all this junk? Seizing the chipped bust of an ugly old warlock from on top of a nearby crate, he
stood it on top of the cupboard where the book was now hidden, perched a dusty old wig and a tarnished tiara on the statues head to make it more distinctive, then
sprinted back through the alleyways of hidden junk as fast as he could go, back to the door, back out onto the corridor, where he slammed the door behind him, and it
turned at once back into stone.
Harry ran flat-out toward the bathroom on the floor below, cramming Ron's copy of Advanced Potion-Making into his bag as he did so. A minute later, he was back in front
of Snape, who held out his hand wordlessly for Harry's schoolbag. Harry handed it over, panting, a searing pain in his chest, and waited.
One by one, Snape extracted Harry's books and examined them. Finally, the only book left was the Potions book, which he looked at very carefully before speaking.
“This is your copy of Advanced Potion-Making, is it, Potter?”
“Yes,” said Harry, still breathing hard.
“You're quite sure of that, are you, Potter?”
“Yes,” said Harry, with a touch more defiance.
“This is the copy of Advanced Potion-Making that you purchased from Flourish and Blotts?”
“Yes,” said Harry firmly.
“Then why,” asked Snape, “does it have the name ‘Roonil Wazlib’ written inside the front cover?”
Harry's heart missed a beat. “That's my nickname,” he said.
“Your nickname,” repeated Snape.
“Yeah... that's what my friends call me,” said Harry.c
When Snape had performed his counter-curse
When Snape had performed his counter-curse for the third time, he half-lifted Malfoy into a standing position.
“You need the hospital wing. There may be a certain amount of scarring, but if you take dittany immediately we might avoid even that ... come...”
He supported Malfoy across the bathroom, turning at the door to say in a voice of cold fury, “And you, Potter... You wait here for me.”
It did not occur to Harry for a second to disobey. He stood up slowly, shaking, and looked down at the wet floor. There were bloodstains floating like crimson flowers
across its surface. He could not even find it in himself to tell Moaning Myrtle to be quiet, as she continued to wail and sob with increasingly evident enjoyment.
Snape returned ten minutes later. He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
“Go,” he said to Myrtle, and she swooped back into her toilet at once, leaving a ringing silence behind her.
“I didn't mean it to happen,” said Harry at once. His voice echoed in the cold, watery space. “I didn't know what that spell did.”
But Snape ignored this. “Apparently I underestimated you, Potter,” he said quietly. “Who would have thought you knew such Dark Magic? Who taught you that spell?”
“I—read about it somewhere.”
“Where?”
“It was—a library book,” Harry invented wildly. “I can't remember what it was call —”
“Liar,” said Snape. Harry's throat went dry. He knew what Snape was going to do and he had never been able to prevent it...
The bathroom seemed to shimmer before his eyes; he struggled to block out all thought, but try as he might, the Half-Blood Prince's copy of Advanced Potion-Making swam
hazily to the forefront of his mind.
And then he was staring at Snape again, in the midst of this wrecked, soaked bathroom. He stared into Snape's black eyes, hoping against hope that Snape had not seen
what he feared, but —
“Bring me your schoolbag,” said Snape softly, “and all of your schoolbooks. All of them. Bring them to me here. Now!”
There was no point arguing. Harry turned at once and splashed out of the bathroom. Once in the corridor, he broke into a run toward Gryffindor Tower. Most people were
walking the other way; they gaped at him, drenched in water and blood, but he answered none of the questions fired at him as he ran past.
He felt stunned; it was as though a beloved pet had turned suddenly savage; what had the Prince been thinking to copy such a spell into his book? And what would happen
when Snape saw it? Would he tell Slughorn—Harry's stomach churned—how Harry had been achieving such good results in Potions all year? Would he confiscate or destroy
the book that had taught Harry so much... the book that had become a kind of guide and friend? Harry could not let it happen... he could not...
“Where've you—? Why are you soaking... is that blood?”
Ron was standing at the top of the stairs, looking bewildered at the sight of Harry.
“I need your book,” Harry panted. “Your Potions book. Quick... give it to me...”
“But what about the Half-Blood —”
“I'll explain later!”
Ron pulled his copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and handed it over; Harry sprinted off past him and back to the common room. Here, he seized his schoolbag,
ignoring the amazed looks of several people who had already finished their dinner, threw himself back out of the portrait hole, and hurtled off along the seventh-floor
corridor.
He skidded to a halt beside the tapestry of dancing trolls, closed his eyes, and began to walk.
I need a place to hide my book... I need a place to hide my book... I need a place to hide my book...
Three times he walked up and down in front of the stretch of blank wall. When he opened his eyes, there it was at last: the door to the Room of Requirement. Harry
wrenched it open, flung himself inside, and slammed it shut.
“You need the hospital wing. There may be a certain amount of scarring, but if you take dittany immediately we might avoid even that ... come...”
He supported Malfoy across the bathroom, turning at the door to say in a voice of cold fury, “And you, Potter... You wait here for me.”
It did not occur to Harry for a second to disobey. He stood up slowly, shaking, and looked down at the wet floor. There were bloodstains floating like crimson flowers
across its surface. He could not even find it in himself to tell Moaning Myrtle to be quiet, as she continued to wail and sob with increasingly evident enjoyment.
Snape returned ten minutes later. He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
“Go,” he said to Myrtle, and she swooped back into her toilet at once, leaving a ringing silence behind her.
“I didn't mean it to happen,” said Harry at once. His voice echoed in the cold, watery space. “I didn't know what that spell did.”
But Snape ignored this. “Apparently I underestimated you, Potter,” he said quietly. “Who would have thought you knew such Dark Magic? Who taught you that spell?”
“I—read about it somewhere.”
“Where?”
“It was—a library book,” Harry invented wildly. “I can't remember what it was call —”
“Liar,” said Snape. Harry's throat went dry. He knew what Snape was going to do and he had never been able to prevent it...
The bathroom seemed to shimmer before his eyes; he struggled to block out all thought, but try as he might, the Half-Blood Prince's copy of Advanced Potion-Making swam
hazily to the forefront of his mind.
And then he was staring at Snape again, in the midst of this wrecked, soaked bathroom. He stared into Snape's black eyes, hoping against hope that Snape had not seen
what he feared, but —
“Bring me your schoolbag,” said Snape softly, “and all of your schoolbooks. All of them. Bring them to me here. Now!”
There was no point arguing. Harry turned at once and splashed out of the bathroom. Once in the corridor, he broke into a run toward Gryffindor Tower. Most people were
walking the other way; they gaped at him, drenched in water and blood, but he answered none of the questions fired at him as he ran past.
He felt stunned; it was as though a beloved pet had turned suddenly savage; what had the Prince been thinking to copy such a spell into his book? And what would happen
when Snape saw it? Would he tell Slughorn—Harry's stomach churned—how Harry had been achieving such good results in Potions all year? Would he confiscate or destroy
the book that had taught Harry so much... the book that had become a kind of guide and friend? Harry could not let it happen... he could not...
“Where've you—? Why are you soaking... is that blood?”
Ron was standing at the top of the stairs, looking bewildered at the sight of Harry.
“I need your book,” Harry panted. “Your Potions book. Quick... give it to me...”
“But what about the Half-Blood —”
“I'll explain later!”
Ron pulled his copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and handed it over; Harry sprinted off past him and back to the common room. Here, he seized his schoolbag,
ignoring the amazed looks of several people who had already finished their dinner, threw himself back out of the portrait hole, and hurtled off along the seventh-floor
corridor.
He skidded to a halt beside the tapestry of dancing trolls, closed his eyes, and began to walk.
I need a place to hide my book... I need a place to hide my book... I need a place to hide my book...
Three times he walked up and down in front of the stretch of blank wall. When he opened his eyes, there it was at last: the door to the Room of Requirement. Harry
wrenched it open, flung himself inside, and slammed it shut.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
now... it was natural that he should feel protective.
now... it was natural that he should feel protective... natural that he should want to look out for her... want to rip Dean limb from limb for kissing her... no... he
would have to control that particular brotherly feeling...
Ron gave a great grunting snore.
She's Ron's sister, Harry told himself firmly. Ron's sister. She's out-of-bounds. He would not risk his friendship with Ron for anything. He punched his pillow into a
more comfortable shape and waited for sleep to come, trying his utmost not to allow his thoughts to stray anywhere near Ginny.
Harry awoke next morning feeling slightly dazed and confused by a series of dreams in which Ron had chased him with a Beater's bat, but by midday he would have happily
exchanged the dream Ron for the real one, who was not only cold-shouldering Ginny and Dean, but also treating a hurt and bewildered Hermione with an icy, sneering
indifference. What was more, Ron seemed to have become, overnight, as touchy and ready to lash out as the average Blast-Ended Skrewt. Harry spent the day attempting to
keep the peace between Ron and Hermione with no success; finally, Hermione departed for bed in high dudgeon, and Ron stalked off to the boys’ dormitory after swearing
angrily at several frightened first-years for looking at him.
To Harry's dismay, Ron's new aggression did not wear off over the next few days. Worse still, it coincided with an even deeper dip in his Keeping skills, which made him
still more aggressive, so that during the final Quidditch practice before Saturday's match, he failed to save every single goal the Chasers aimed at him, but bellowed
at everybody so much that he reduced Demelza Robins to tears.
“You shut up and leave her alone!” shouted Peakes, who was about two-thirds Ron's height, though admittedly carrying a heavy bat.
“ENOUGH!” bellowed Harry, who had seen Ginny glowering in Ron's direction and, remembering her reputation as an accomplished caster of the Bat-Bogey Hex, soared over
to intervene before things got out of hand. “Peakes, go and pack up the Bludgers. Demelza, pull yourself together, you played really well today. Ron...” he waited
until the rest of the team were out of earshot before saying it, “you're my best mate, but carry on treating the rest of them like this and I'm going to kick you off
the team.”
He really thought for a moment that Ron might hit him, but then something much worse happened: Ron seemed to sag on his broom. all the fight went out of him and he
said, “I resign. I'm pathetic.”
“You're not pathetic and you're not resigning!” said Harry fiercely, seizing Ron by the front of his robes. “You can save anything when you're on form, it's a mental
problem you've got!”
“You calling me mental?”
“Yeah, maybe I am!”
They glared at each other for a moment, then Ron shook his head wearily.
would have to control that particular brotherly feeling...
Ron gave a great grunting snore.
She's Ron's sister, Harry told himself firmly. Ron's sister. She's out-of-bounds. He would not risk his friendship with Ron for anything. He punched his pillow into a
more comfortable shape and waited for sleep to come, trying his utmost not to allow his thoughts to stray anywhere near Ginny.
Harry awoke next morning feeling slightly dazed and confused by a series of dreams in which Ron had chased him with a Beater's bat, but by midday he would have happily
exchanged the dream Ron for the real one, who was not only cold-shouldering Ginny and Dean, but also treating a hurt and bewildered Hermione with an icy, sneering
indifference. What was more, Ron seemed to have become, overnight, as touchy and ready to lash out as the average Blast-Ended Skrewt. Harry spent the day attempting to
keep the peace between Ron and Hermione with no success; finally, Hermione departed for bed in high dudgeon, and Ron stalked off to the boys’ dormitory after swearing
angrily at several frightened first-years for looking at him.
To Harry's dismay, Ron's new aggression did not wear off over the next few days. Worse still, it coincided with an even deeper dip in his Keeping skills, which made him
still more aggressive, so that during the final Quidditch practice before Saturday's match, he failed to save every single goal the Chasers aimed at him, but bellowed
at everybody so much that he reduced Demelza Robins to tears.
“You shut up and leave her alone!” shouted Peakes, who was about two-thirds Ron's height, though admittedly carrying a heavy bat.
“ENOUGH!” bellowed Harry, who had seen Ginny glowering in Ron's direction and, remembering her reputation as an accomplished caster of the Bat-Bogey Hex, soared over
to intervene before things got out of hand. “Peakes, go and pack up the Bludgers. Demelza, pull yourself together, you played really well today. Ron...” he waited
until the rest of the team were out of earshot before saying it, “you're my best mate, but carry on treating the rest of them like this and I'm going to kick you off
the team.”
He really thought for a moment that Ron might hit him, but then something much worse happened: Ron seemed to sag on his broom. all the fight went out of him and he
said, “I resign. I'm pathetic.”
“You're not pathetic and you're not resigning!” said Harry fiercely, seizing Ron by the front of his robes. “You can save anything when you're on form, it's a mental
problem you've got!”
“You calling me mental?”
“Yeah, maybe I am!”
They glared at each other for a moment, then Ron shook his head wearily.
“You don't know what you're talking about!
“You don't know what you're talking about!” Ron roared, trying to get a clear shot at Ginny around Harry, who was now standing in front of her with his arms
outstretched. “Just because I don't do it in public—!”
Ginny screamed with derisive laughter, trying to push Harry out of the way.
“Been kissing Pigwidgeon, have you? Or have you got a picture of Auntie Muriel stashed under your pillow?” You —
A streak of orange light flew under Harry's left arm and missed Ginny by inches; Harry pushed Ron up against the wall.
“Don't be stupid —”
“Harry's snogged Cho Chang!” shouted Ginny, who sounded close to tears now. “And Hermione snogged Viktor Krum, it's only you who acts like it's something disgusting,
Ron, and that's because you've got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!”
And with that, she stormed away. Harry quickly let go of Ron; the look on his face was murderous. They both stood there, breathing heavily, until Mrs. Norris, Rich's
cat, appeared around the corner, which broke the tension.
“C'mon,” said Harry, as the sound of Filch's shuffling feet reached their ears.
They hurried up the stairs and along a seventh-floor corridor. “Oi, out of the way!” Ron barked at a small girl who jumped in fright and dropped a bottle of toad-
spawn.
Harry hardly noticed the sound of shattering glass; he felt disoriented, dizzy; being struck by a lightning bolt must be something like this. It's just because she's
Ron's sister, he told himself. You just didn't like seeing her kissing Dean because she's Ron's sister...
But unbidden into his mind came an image of that same deserted corridor with himself kissing Ginny instead... the monster in his chest purred... but then he saw Ron
ripping open the tapestry curtain and drawing his wand on Harry, shouting things like “betrayal of trust"... “supposed to be my friend"...
“D'you think Hermione did snog Krum?” Ron asked abruptly, as they approached the Fat Lady. Harry gave a guilty start and wrenched his imagination away from a corridor
in which no Ron intruded, in which he and Ginny were quite alone—
“What?” he said confusedly. “Oh ... er ...”
The honest answer was “yes,” but he did not want to give it. However, Ron seemed to gather the worst from the look on Harry's face.
“Dilligrout,” he said darkly to the Fat Lady, and they climbed through the portrait hole into the common room.
Neither of them mentioned Ginny or Hermione again; indeed, they barely spoke to each other that evening and got into bed in silence, each absorbed in his own thoughts.
Harry lay awake for a long time, looking up at the canopy of his four-poster and trying to convince himself that his feelings for Ginny were entirely elder-brotherly.
They had lived, had they not, like brother and sister all summer, playing Quidditch, teasing Ron, and having a laugh about Bill and Phlegm? He had known Ginny for years
outstretched. “Just because I don't do it in public—!”
Ginny screamed with derisive laughter, trying to push Harry out of the way.
“Been kissing Pigwidgeon, have you? Or have you got a picture of Auntie Muriel stashed under your pillow?” You —
A streak of orange light flew under Harry's left arm and missed Ginny by inches; Harry pushed Ron up against the wall.
“Don't be stupid —”
“Harry's snogged Cho Chang!” shouted Ginny, who sounded close to tears now. “And Hermione snogged Viktor Krum, it's only you who acts like it's something disgusting,
Ron, and that's because you've got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!”
And with that, she stormed away. Harry quickly let go of Ron; the look on his face was murderous. They both stood there, breathing heavily, until Mrs. Norris, Rich's
cat, appeared around the corner, which broke the tension.
“C'mon,” said Harry, as the sound of Filch's shuffling feet reached their ears.
They hurried up the stairs and along a seventh-floor corridor. “Oi, out of the way!” Ron barked at a small girl who jumped in fright and dropped a bottle of toad-
spawn.
Harry hardly noticed the sound of shattering glass; he felt disoriented, dizzy; being struck by a lightning bolt must be something like this. It's just because she's
Ron's sister, he told himself. You just didn't like seeing her kissing Dean because she's Ron's sister...
But unbidden into his mind came an image of that same deserted corridor with himself kissing Ginny instead... the monster in his chest purred... but then he saw Ron
ripping open the tapestry curtain and drawing his wand on Harry, shouting things like “betrayal of trust"... “supposed to be my friend"...
“D'you think Hermione did snog Krum?” Ron asked abruptly, as they approached the Fat Lady. Harry gave a guilty start and wrenched his imagination away from a corridor
in which no Ron intruded, in which he and Ginny were quite alone—
“What?” he said confusedly. “Oh ... er ...”
The honest answer was “yes,” but he did not want to give it. However, Ron seemed to gather the worst from the look on Harry's face.
“Dilligrout,” he said darkly to the Fat Lady, and they climbed through the portrait hole into the common room.
Neither of them mentioned Ginny or Hermione again; indeed, they barely spoke to each other that evening and got into bed in silence, each absorbed in his own thoughts.
Harry lay awake for a long time, looking up at the canopy of his four-poster and trying to convince himself that his feelings for Ginny were entirely elder-brotherly.
They had lived, had they not, like brother and sister all summer, playing Quidditch, teasing Ron, and having a laugh about Bill and Phlegm? He had known Ginny for years
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Chapter 2 Spinner's End
Many miles away the chilly mist that had pressed against the Prime Minister's windows drifted over a dirty river that wound between overgrown, rubbish-strewn banks. An immense chimney, relic of a disused mill, reared up, shadowy and ominous. There was no sound apart from the whisper of the black water and no sign of life apart from a scrawny fox that had slunk down the bank to nose hopefully at some old fish-and-chip wrappings in the tall grass.
But then, with a very faint pop, a slim, hooded figure appeared out of thin air on the edge of the river. The fox froze, wary eyes fixed upon this strange new phenomenon. The figure seemed to take its bearings for a few moments, then set off with light, quick strides, its long cloak rustling over the grass.
With a second and louder pop, another hooded figure materialized.
“Wait!”
The harsh cry startled the fox, now crouching almost flat in the undergrowth. It leapt from its hiding place and up the bank. There was a flash of green light, a yelp, and the fox fell back to the ground, dead.
The second figure turned over the animal with its toe.
“Just a fox,” said a woman's voice dismissively from under the hood. “I thought perhaps an Auror—Cissy, wait!”
But her quarry, who had paused and looked back at the flash of light, was already scrambling up the bank the fox had just fallen down.
“Cissy—Narcissa—listen to me—”
The second woman caught the first and seized her arm, but the other wrenched it away.
“Go back, Bella!”
“You must listen to me!”
“I've listened already. I've made my decision. Leave me alone!”
The woman named Narcissa gained the top of the bank, where a line of old railings separated the river from a narrow, cobbled street. The other woman, Bella, followed at once. Side by side they stood looking across the road at the rows and rows of dilapidated brick houses, their windows dull and blind in the darkness.
“He lives here?” asked Bella in a voice of contempt. “Here? In this Muggle dunghill? We must be the first of our kind ever to set foot—”
But Narcissa was not listening; she had slipped through a gap in the rusty railings and was already hurrying across the road.
“Cissy, wait!”
Bella followed, her cloak streaming behind, and saw Narcissa darting through an alley between the houses into a second, almost identical street. Some of the streetlamps were broken; the two women were running between patches of light and deep darkness. The pursuer caught up with her prey just as she turned another corner, this time succeeding in catching hold of her arm and swinging her around so that they faced each other.
“Cissy, you must not do this, you can't trust him—”
“The Dark Lord trusts him, doesn't he?”
“The Dark Lord is... I believe... mistaken,” Bella panted, and her eyes gleamed momentarily under her hood as she looked around to check that they were indeed alone. “In any case, we were told not to speak of the plan to anyone. This is a betrayal of the Dark Lord's—”
“Let go, Bella!” snarled Narcissa, and she drew a wand from beneath her cloak, holding it threateningly in the other's face. Bella merely laughed.
“Cissy, your own sister? You wouldn't—”
“There is nothing I wouldn't do anymore!” Narcissa breathed, a note of hysteria in her voice, and as she brought down the wand like a knife, there was another flash of light. Bella let go of her sister's arm as though burned.
“Narcissa!”
But Narcissa had rushed ahead. Rubbing her hand, her pursuer followed again, keeping her distance now, as they moved deeper into the deserted labyrinth of brick houses. At last, Narcissa hurried up a street named Spinner's End, over which the towering mill chimney seemed to hover like a giant admonitory finger. Her footsteps echoed on the cobbles as she passed boarded and broken windows, until she reached the very last house, where a dim light glimmered through the curtains in a downstairs room.
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But then, with a very faint pop, a slim, hooded figure appeared out of thin air on the edge of the river. The fox froze, wary eyes fixed upon this strange new phenomenon. The figure seemed to take its bearings for a few moments, then set off with light, quick strides, its long cloak rustling over the grass.
With a second and louder pop, another hooded figure materialized.
“Wait!”
The harsh cry startled the fox, now crouching almost flat in the undergrowth. It leapt from its hiding place and up the bank. There was a flash of green light, a yelp, and the fox fell back to the ground, dead.
The second figure turned over the animal with its toe.
“Just a fox,” said a woman's voice dismissively from under the hood. “I thought perhaps an Auror—Cissy, wait!”
But her quarry, who had paused and looked back at the flash of light, was already scrambling up the bank the fox had just fallen down.
“Cissy—Narcissa—listen to me—”
The second woman caught the first and seized her arm, but the other wrenched it away.
“Go back, Bella!”
“You must listen to me!”
“I've listened already. I've made my decision. Leave me alone!”
The woman named Narcissa gained the top of the bank, where a line of old railings separated the river from a narrow, cobbled street. The other woman, Bella, followed at once. Side by side they stood looking across the road at the rows and rows of dilapidated brick houses, their windows dull and blind in the darkness.
“He lives here?” asked Bella in a voice of contempt. “Here? In this Muggle dunghill? We must be the first of our kind ever to set foot—”
But Narcissa was not listening; she had slipped through a gap in the rusty railings and was already hurrying across the road.
“Cissy, wait!”
Bella followed, her cloak streaming behind, and saw Narcissa darting through an alley between the houses into a second, almost identical street. Some of the streetlamps were broken; the two women were running between patches of light and deep darkness. The pursuer caught up with her prey just as she turned another corner, this time succeeding in catching hold of her arm and swinging her around so that they faced each other.
“Cissy, you must not do this, you can't trust him—”
“The Dark Lord trusts him, doesn't he?”
“The Dark Lord is... I believe... mistaken,” Bella panted, and her eyes gleamed momentarily under her hood as she looked around to check that they were indeed alone. “In any case, we were told not to speak of the plan to anyone. This is a betrayal of the Dark Lord's—”
“Let go, Bella!” snarled Narcissa, and she drew a wand from beneath her cloak, holding it threateningly in the other's face. Bella merely laughed.
“Cissy, your own sister? You wouldn't—”
“There is nothing I wouldn't do anymore!” Narcissa breathed, a note of hysteria in her voice, and as she brought down the wand like a knife, there was another flash of light. Bella let go of her sister's arm as though burned.
“Narcissa!”
But Narcissa had rushed ahead. Rubbing her hand, her pursuer followed again, keeping her distance now, as they moved deeper into the deserted labyrinth of brick houses. At last, Narcissa hurried up a street named Spinner's End, over which the towering mill chimney seemed to hover like a giant admonitory finger. Her footsteps echoed on the cobbles as she passed boarded and broken windows, until she reached the very last house, where a dim light glimmered through the curtains in a downstairs room.
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Monday, November 22, 2010
Chapter 49
Gray old Laska, who had followed them, sat down warily opposite him and pricked up her ears. The sun was setting behind a thick forest, and in the glow of sunset the birch trees, dotted about in the aspen copse, stood out clearly with their hanging twigs, and their buds swollen almost to bursting.
From the thickest parts of the copse, where the snow still remained, came the faint sound of narrow winding threads of water running away. Tiny birds twittered, and now and then fluttered from tree to tree.
In the pauses of complete stillness there came the rustle of last year's leaves, stirred by the thawing of the earth and the growth of the grass.
"Imagine! One can hear and see the grass growing!" Levin said to himself, noticing a wet, slate-colored aspen leaf moving beside a blade of young grass. He stood, listened, and gazed sometimes down at the wet mossy ground, sometimes at Laska listening all alert, sometimes at the sea of bare tree tops that stretched on the slope below him, sometimes at the darkening sky, covered with white streaks of cloud.
A hawk flew high over a forest far away with slow sweep of its wings; another flew with exactly the same motion in the same direction and vanished. The birds twittered more and more loudly and busily in the thicket. An owl hooted not far off, and Laska, starting, stepped cautiously a few steps forward, and putting her head on one side, began to listen intently. Beyond the stream was heard the cuckoo. Twice she uttered her usual cuckoo call, and then gave a hoarse, hurried call and broke down.
"Imagine! the cuckoo already!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, coming out from behind a bush.
"Yes, In hear it," answered Levin, reluctantly breaking the stillness with his voice, which sounded disagreeable to himself. "Now it's coming!"
Stepan Arkadyevitch's figure again went behind the bush, and Levin saw nothing but the bright flash of a match, followed by the red glow and blue smoke of a cigarette.
"Tchk! tchk!" came the snapping sound of Stepan Arkadyevitch cocking his gun.
"What's that cry?" asked Oblonsky, drawing Levin's attention to a prolonged cry, as though a colt were whinnying in a high voice, in play.
"I told them to bring the trap round; or would you rather walk?"
"I told them to bring the trap round; or would you rather walk?"
"No, we'd better drive," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, getting into the trap. He sat down, tucked the tiger-skin rug round him, and lighted a cigar. "How is it you don't smoke? A cigar is a sort of thing, not exactly a pleasure, but the crown and outward sign of pleasure. Come, this is life! How splendid it is! This is how In should like to live!"
"Why, who prevents you?" said Levin, smiling.
"No, you're a lucky man! You've got everything you like. You like horses--and you have them; dogs--you have them; shooting-- you have it; farming--you have it."
"Perhaps because I rejoice in what I have, and don't fret for what I haven't," said Levin, thinking of Kitty.
Stepan Arkadyevitch comprehended, looked at him, but said nothing.
Levin was grateful to Oblonsky for noticing, with his never-failing tact, that he dreaded conversation about the Shtcherbatskys, and so saying nothing about them. But now Levin was longing to find out what was tormenting him so, yet he had not the courage to begin.
"Come, tell me how things are going with you," said Levin, bethinking himself that it was not nice of him to think only of himself.
Stepan Arkadyevitch's eyes sparkled merrily.
"You don't admit, I know, that one can be fond of new rolls when one has had one's rations of bread--to your mind it's a crime; but I don't count life as life without love," he said, taking Levin's question his own way. "What am I to do? I'm made that way. And really, one does so little harm to anyone, and gives oneself so much pleasure..."
"What! is there something new, then?" queried Levin.
"Yes, my boy, there is! There, do you see, you know the type of Ossian's women.... Women, such as one sees in dreams.... Well, these women are sometimes to be met in reality...and these women are terrible. Woman, don't you know, is such a subject that however much you study it, it's always perfectly new."
"Well, then, it would be better not to study it."
"No. Some mathematician has said that enjoyment lies in the search for truth, not in the finding it."
Levin listened in silence, and in spite of all the efforts he made, he could not in the least enter into the feelings of his friend and understand his sentiments and the charm of studying such women.
"No, we'd better drive," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, getting into the trap. He sat down, tucked the tiger-skin rug round him, and lighted a cigar. "How is it you don't smoke? A cigar is a sort of thing, not exactly a pleasure, but the crown and outward sign of pleasure. Come, this is life! How splendid it is! This is how In should like to live!"
"Why, who prevents you?" said Levin, smiling.
"No, you're a lucky man! You've got everything you like. You like horses--and you have them; dogs--you have them; shooting-- you have it; farming--you have it."
"Perhaps because I rejoice in what I have, and don't fret for what I haven't," said Levin, thinking of Kitty.
Stepan Arkadyevitch comprehended, looked at him, but said nothing.
Levin was grateful to Oblonsky for noticing, with his never-failing tact, that he dreaded conversation about the Shtcherbatskys, and so saying nothing about them. But now Levin was longing to find out what was tormenting him so, yet he had not the courage to begin.
"Come, tell me how things are going with you," said Levin, bethinking himself that it was not nice of him to think only of himself.
Stepan Arkadyevitch's eyes sparkled merrily.
"You don't admit, I know, that one can be fond of new rolls when one has had one's rations of bread--to your mind it's a crime; but I don't count life as life without love," he said, taking Levin's question his own way. "What am I to do? I'm made that way. And really, one does so little harm to anyone, and gives oneself so much pleasure..."
"What! is there something new, then?" queried Levin.
"Yes, my boy, there is! There, do you see, you know the type of Ossian's women.... Women, such as one sees in dreams.... Well, these women are sometimes to be met in reality...and these women are terrible. Woman, don't you know, is such a subject that however much you study it, it's always perfectly new."
"Well, then, it would be better not to study it."
"No. Some mathematician has said that enjoyment lies in the search for truth, not in the finding it."
Levin listened in silence, and in spite of all the efforts he made, he could not in the least enter into the feelings of his friend and understand his sentiments and the charm of studying such women.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
"We have long been expecting you,
"We have long been expecting you," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, going into his room and letting Levin's hand go as though to show that here all danger was over. "I am very, very glad to see you," he went on. "Well, how are you? Eh? When did you come?"
Levin was silent, looking at the unknown faces of Oblonsky's two companions, and especially at the hand of the elegant Grinevitch, which had such long white fingers, such long yellow filbert-shaped nails, and such huge shining studs on the shirt-cuff, that apparently they absorbed all his attention, and allowed him no freedom of thought. Oblonsky noticed this at once, and smiled.
"Ah, to be sure, let me introduce you," he said. "My colleagues: Philip Ivanitch Nikitin, Mihail Stanislavitch Grinevitch"--and turning to Levin--"a district councilor, a modern district councilman, a gymnast who lifts thirteen stone with one hand, a cattle-breeder and sportsman, and my friend, Konstantin Dmitrievitch Levin, the brother of Sergey Ivonovitch Koznishev."
"Delighted," said the veteran.
"I have the honor of knowing your brother, Sergey Ivanovitch," said Grinevitch, holding out his slender hand with its long nails.
Levin frowned, shook hands coldly, and at once turned to Oblonsky. Though he had a great respect for his half-brother, an author well known to all Russia, he could not endure it when people treated him not as Konstantin Levin, but as the brother of the celebrated Koznishev.
"No, I am no longer a district councilor. I have quarreled with them all, and don't go to the meetings any more," he said, turning to Oblonsky.
"You've been quick about it!" said Oblonsky with a smile. "But how? why?"
Levin was silent, looking at the unknown faces of Oblonsky's two companions, and especially at the hand of the elegant Grinevitch, which had such long white fingers, such long yellow filbert-shaped nails, and such huge shining studs on the shirt-cuff, that apparently they absorbed all his attention, and allowed him no freedom of thought. Oblonsky noticed this at once, and smiled.
"Ah, to be sure, let me introduce you," he said. "My colleagues: Philip Ivanitch Nikitin, Mihail Stanislavitch Grinevitch"--and turning to Levin--"a district councilor, a modern district councilman, a gymnast who lifts thirteen stone with one hand, a cattle-breeder and sportsman, and my friend, Konstantin Dmitrievitch Levin, the brother of Sergey Ivonovitch Koznishev."
"Delighted," said the veteran.
"I have the honor of knowing your brother, Sergey Ivanovitch," said Grinevitch, holding out his slender hand with its long nails.
Levin frowned, shook hands coldly, and at once turned to Oblonsky. Though he had a great respect for his half-brother, an author well known to all Russia, he could not endure it when people treated him not as Konstantin Levin, but as the brother of the celebrated Koznishev.
"No, I am no longer a district councilor. I have quarreled with them all, and don't go to the meetings any more," he said, turning to Oblonsky.
"You've been quick about it!" said Oblonsky with a smile. "But how? why?"
"I have just come, and very much wanted to see you
"I have just come, and very much wanted to see you," said Levin, looking shyly and at the same time angry and uneasily around.
"Well, let's go into my room," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, who knew his friend's sensitive and irritable shyness, and, taking his arm, he drew him along, as though guiding him through dangers.
Stepan Arkadyevitch was on familiar terms with almost all his acquaintances, and called almost all of them by their Christian names: old men of sixty, boys of twenty, actors, ministers, merchants, and adjutant-generals, so that many of his intimate chums were to be found at the extreme ends of the social ladder, and would have been very much surprised to learn that they had, through the medium of Oblonsky, something in common. He was the familiar friend of everyone with whom he took a glass of champagne, and he took a glass of champagne with everyone, and when in consequence he met any of his disreputable chums, as he used in joke to call many of his friends, in the presence of his subordinates, he well knew how, with his characteristic tact, to diminish the disagreeable impression made on them. Levin was not a disreputable chum, but Oblonsky, with his ready tact, felt that Levin fancied he might not care to show his intimacy with him before his subordinates, and so he made haste to take him off into his room.
Levin was almost of the same age as Oblonsky; their intimacy did not rest merely on champagne. Levin had been the friend and companion of his early youth. They were fond of one another in spite of the difference of their characters and tastes, as friends are fond of one another who have been together in early youth. But in spite of this, each of them--as is often the way with men who have selected careers of different kinds--though in discussion he would even justify the other's career, in his heart despised it. It seemed to each of them that the life he led himself was the only real life, and the life led by his friend was a mere phantasm. Oblonsky could not restrain a slight mocking smile at the sight of Levin. How often he had seen him come up to Moscow from the country where he was doing something, but what precisely Stepan Arkadyevitch could never quite make out, and indeed he took no interest in the matter. Levin arrived in Moscow always excited and in a hurry, rather ill at ease and irritated by his own want of ease, and for the most part with a perfectly new, unexpected view of things. Stepan Arkadyevitch laughed at this, and liked it. In the same way Levin in his heart despised the town mode of life of his friend, and his official duties, which he laughed at, and regarded as trifling. But the difference was that Oblonsky, as he was doing the same as every one did, laughed complacently and good-humoredly, while Levin laughed without complacency and sometimes angrily.
"Well, let's go into my room," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, who knew his friend's sensitive and irritable shyness, and, taking his arm, he drew him along, as though guiding him through dangers.
Stepan Arkadyevitch was on familiar terms with almost all his acquaintances, and called almost all of them by their Christian names: old men of sixty, boys of twenty, actors, ministers, merchants, and adjutant-generals, so that many of his intimate chums were to be found at the extreme ends of the social ladder, and would have been very much surprised to learn that they had, through the medium of Oblonsky, something in common. He was the familiar friend of everyone with whom he took a glass of champagne, and he took a glass of champagne with everyone, and when in consequence he met any of his disreputable chums, as he used in joke to call many of his friends, in the presence of his subordinates, he well knew how, with his characteristic tact, to diminish the disagreeable impression made on them. Levin was not a disreputable chum, but Oblonsky, with his ready tact, felt that Levin fancied he might not care to show his intimacy with him before his subordinates, and so he made haste to take him off into his room.
Levin was almost of the same age as Oblonsky; their intimacy did not rest merely on champagne. Levin had been the friend and companion of his early youth. They were fond of one another in spite of the difference of their characters and tastes, as friends are fond of one another who have been together in early youth. But in spite of this, each of them--as is often the way with men who have selected careers of different kinds--though in discussion he would even justify the other's career, in his heart despised it. It seemed to each of them that the life he led himself was the only real life, and the life led by his friend was a mere phantasm. Oblonsky could not restrain a slight mocking smile at the sight of Levin. How often he had seen him come up to Moscow from the country where he was doing something, but what precisely Stepan Arkadyevitch could never quite make out, and indeed he took no interest in the matter. Levin arrived in Moscow always excited and in a hurry, rather ill at ease and irritated by his own want of ease, and for the most part with a perfectly new, unexpected view of things. Stepan Arkadyevitch laughed at this, and liked it. In the same way Levin in his heart despised the town mode of life of his friend, and his official duties, which he laughed at, and regarded as trifling. But the difference was that Oblonsky, as he was doing the same as every one did, laughed complacently and good-humoredly, while Levin laughed without complacency and sometimes angrily.
"If they knew," he thought
"If they knew," he thought, bending his head with a significant air as he listened to the report, "what a guilty little boy their president was half an hour ago." And his eyes were laughing during the reading of the report. Till two o'clock the sitting would go on without a break, and at two o'clock there would be an interval and luncheon.
It was not yet two, when the large glass doors of the boardroom suddenly opened and someone came in.
All the officials sitting on the further side under the portrait of the Tsar and the eagle, delighted at any distraction, looked round at the door; but the doorkeeper standing at the door at once drove out the intruder, and closed the glass door after him.
When the case had been read through, Stepan Arkadyevitch got up and stretched, and by way of tribute to the liberalism of the times took out a cigarette in the boardroom and went into his private room. Two of the members of the board, the old veteran in the service, Nikitin, and the Kammerjunker Grinevitch, went in with him.
"We shall have time to finish after lunch," said Stepan Arkadyevitch.
"To be sure we shall!" said Nikitin.
"A pretty sharp fellow this Fomin must be," said Grinevitch of one of the persons taking part in the case they were examining.
Stepan Arkadyevitch frowned at Grinevitch's words, giving him thereby to understand that it was improper to pass judgment prematurely, and made him no reply.
"Who was that came in?" he asked the doorkeeper.
"Someone, your excellency, crept in without permission directly my back was turned. He was asking for you. I told him: when the members come out, then..."
"Where is he?"
"Maybe he's gone into the passage, but here he comes anyway. That is he," said the doorkeeper, pointing to a strongly built, broadshouldered man with a curly beard, who, without taking off his sheepskin cap, was running lightly and rapidly up the worn steps of the stone staircase.b One of the members going down--a lean official with a portfolio--stood out of his way and looked disapprovingly at the legs of the stranger, then glanced inquiringly at Oblonsky.
Stepan Arkadyevitch was standing at the top of the stairs. His good-naturedly beaming face above the embroidered collar of his uniform beamed more than ever when he recognized the man coming up.
"Why, it's actually you, Levin, at last!" he said with a friendly mocking smile, scanning Levin as he approached. "How is it you have deigned to look me up in this den?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, and not content with shaking hands, he kissed his friend. "Have you been here long?"
It was not yet two, when the large glass doors of the boardroom suddenly opened and someone came in.
All the officials sitting on the further side under the portrait of the Tsar and the eagle, delighted at any distraction, looked round at the door; but the doorkeeper standing at the door at once drove out the intruder, and closed the glass door after him.
When the case had been read through, Stepan Arkadyevitch got up and stretched, and by way of tribute to the liberalism of the times took out a cigarette in the boardroom and went into his private room. Two of the members of the board, the old veteran in the service, Nikitin, and the Kammerjunker Grinevitch, went in with him.
"We shall have time to finish after lunch," said Stepan Arkadyevitch.
"To be sure we shall!" said Nikitin.
"A pretty sharp fellow this Fomin must be," said Grinevitch of one of the persons taking part in the case they were examining.
Stepan Arkadyevitch frowned at Grinevitch's words, giving him thereby to understand that it was improper to pass judgment prematurely, and made him no reply.
"Who was that came in?" he asked the doorkeeper.
"Someone, your excellency, crept in without permission directly my back was turned. He was asking for you. I told him: when the members come out, then..."
"Where is he?"
"Maybe he's gone into the passage, but here he comes anyway. That is he," said the doorkeeper, pointing to a strongly built, broadshouldered man with a curly beard, who, without taking off his sheepskin cap, was running lightly and rapidly up the worn steps of the stone staircase.b One of the members going down--a lean official with a portfolio--stood out of his way and looked disapprovingly at the legs of the stranger, then glanced inquiringly at Oblonsky.
Stepan Arkadyevitch was standing at the top of the stairs. His good-naturedly beaming face above the embroidered collar of his uniform beamed more than ever when he recognized the man coming up.
"Why, it's actually you, Levin, at last!" he said with a friendly mocking smile, scanning Levin as he approached. "How is it you have deigned to look me up in this den?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, and not content with shaking hands, he kissed his friend. "Have you been here long?"
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Harry and Hermione exchanged miserable looks
Harry and Hermione exchanged miserable looks, Harry uncomfortably aware that he had already promised Hagrid that he would do whatever he asked.
‘What—what does that involve, exactly?’ Hermione enquired.
‘Not food or anythin'!’ said Hagrid eagerly. ‘He can get his own food, no problem. Birds an’ deer an’ stuff ... no, it's company he needs. I xxjus’ knew someone was carryin on trying ter help him a bit ... teachin’ him, yeh know.’
Harry said nothing, but turned to look back at the gigantic form lying asleep on the ground in front of them. Unlike Hagrid, who simply looked like an oversized human, Grawp looked strangely misshapen. What Harry had taken to be a vast mossy boulder to the left of the great earthen mound he now recognised as Grawp's head. It was much larger in proportion to the body than a human head, and was almost perfectly round and covered with tightly curling, close-growing hair the colour of bracken. The rim of a single large, fleshy ear was visible on top of the head, which seemed to sit, rather like Uncle Vernon's, directly upon the shoulders with little or no neck in between. The back, under what looked like a dirty brownish smock comprised of animal skins sewn roughly together, was very broad; and as Grawp slept, it seemed to strain a little at the rough seams of the skins. The legs were curled up under the body. Harry could see the soles of enormous, filthy, bare feet, large as sledges, resting one on top of the other on the earthy Forest floor.
‘You want us to teach him,’ Harry said in a hollow voice. He now understood what Firenze's warning had meant. His attempt is not working. He would do better to abandon it.Of course, the other creatures who lived in the Forest would have heard Hagrid's fruitless attempts to teach Grawp English.
‘Yeah—even if yeh jus’ talk ter him a bit,’ said Hagrid hopefully. ’ ‘Cause I reckon, if he can talk ter people, he'll understand more that we all like ‘im really, an’ want ‘im ter stay.’
Harry looked at Hermione, who peered back at him from between the fingers over her face.
‘Kind of makes you wish we had Norbert back, doesn't it?’ he said, and she gave a very shaky laugh.
‘Yeh'll do it, then?’ said Hagrid, who did not seem to have caugit what Harry had just said.
‘We'll ...’ said Harry, already bound by his promise. ‘We'll try, Hagrid.’
‘I knew I could count on yeh, Harry,’ Hagrid said, beaming in a very watery way and dabbing at his face with his handkerchief again. ‘An’ I don’ wan’ yeh ter put yerself out too much, like ... I know yeh've got exams ... if yeh could jus’ nip down here in yer Invisibility Cloak maybe once a week an’ have a little chat with ‘im. I'll wake ‘im up, then—introduce yeh—’
‘Wha—no!’ said Hermione, jumping up. ‘Hagrid, no, don't wake him, really, we don't need—’
But Hagrid had already stepped over the great tree trunk in front of them and was proceeding towards Grawp. When he was about ten feet away, he lifted a long, broken bough from the ground, smiled reassuringly over his shoulder at Harry and Hermione, then poked Grawp hard in the middle of the back with the end of the bough.
The giant gave a roar that echoed around the silent Forest; birds in the treetops overhead rose twittering from their perches and soared away. In front of Harry and Hermione, meanwhile, the gigantic Grawp was rising from the ground, which shuddered as he placed an enormous hand upon it to push himself on to his knees. He turned his head to see who and what had disturbed him.
‘All righ', Grawpy?’ said Hagrid, in a would-be cheery voice, backing away with the long bough raised, ready to poke Grawp again. ‘Had a nice sleep, eh?’
Harry and Hermione retreated as far as they could while still keeping the giant within their sights. Grawp knelt between two trees he had not yet uprooted. They looked up into his startlingly huge face that resembled a grey full moon swimming in the gloom of the clearing. It was as though the features had been hewn on to a great stone ball. The nose was stubby and shapeless, the mouth lopsided and full of misshapen yellow teeth the size of half-bricks; the eyes, small by giant standards, were a muddy greenish-brown and just now were half-gummed together with sleep. Grawp raised dirty knuckles, each as big as a cricket ball, to his eyes, rubbed vigorously, then, without warning, pushed himself to his feet with surprising speed and agility.
‘Oh my!’ Harry heard Hermione squeal, terrified, beside him.
The trees to which the other ends of the ropes around Grawp's wrists and ankles were attached creaked ominously. He was, as Hagrid had said, at least sixteen feet tall. Gazing blearily around, Grawp reached out a hand the size of a beach umbrella, seized a bird's nest from the upper branches of a towering pine and turned it upside-down with a roar of apparent displeasure that there was no bird in it; eggs fell like grenades towards the ground and Hagrid threw his arms over his head to protect himself.
‘What—what does that involve, exactly?’ Hermione enquired.
‘Not food or anythin'!’ said Hagrid eagerly. ‘He can get his own food, no problem. Birds an’ deer an’ stuff ... no, it's company he needs. I xxjus’ knew someone was carryin on trying ter help him a bit ... teachin’ him, yeh know.’
Harry said nothing, but turned to look back at the gigantic form lying asleep on the ground in front of them. Unlike Hagrid, who simply looked like an oversized human, Grawp looked strangely misshapen. What Harry had taken to be a vast mossy boulder to the left of the great earthen mound he now recognised as Grawp's head. It was much larger in proportion to the body than a human head, and was almost perfectly round and covered with tightly curling, close-growing hair the colour of bracken. The rim of a single large, fleshy ear was visible on top of the head, which seemed to sit, rather like Uncle Vernon's, directly upon the shoulders with little or no neck in between. The back, under what looked like a dirty brownish smock comprised of animal skins sewn roughly together, was very broad; and as Grawp slept, it seemed to strain a little at the rough seams of the skins. The legs were curled up under the body. Harry could see the soles of enormous, filthy, bare feet, large as sledges, resting one on top of the other on the earthy Forest floor.
‘You want us to teach him,’ Harry said in a hollow voice. He now understood what Firenze's warning had meant. His attempt is not working. He would do better to abandon it.Of course, the other creatures who lived in the Forest would have heard Hagrid's fruitless attempts to teach Grawp English.
‘Yeah—even if yeh jus’ talk ter him a bit,’ said Hagrid hopefully. ’ ‘Cause I reckon, if he can talk ter people, he'll understand more that we all like ‘im really, an’ want ‘im ter stay.’
Harry looked at Hermione, who peered back at him from between the fingers over her face.
‘Kind of makes you wish we had Norbert back, doesn't it?’ he said, and she gave a very shaky laugh.
‘Yeh'll do it, then?’ said Hagrid, who did not seem to have caugit what Harry had just said.
‘We'll ...’ said Harry, already bound by his promise. ‘We'll try, Hagrid.’
‘I knew I could count on yeh, Harry,’ Hagrid said, beaming in a very watery way and dabbing at his face with his handkerchief again. ‘An’ I don’ wan’ yeh ter put yerself out too much, like ... I know yeh've got exams ... if yeh could jus’ nip down here in yer Invisibility Cloak maybe once a week an’ have a little chat with ‘im. I'll wake ‘im up, then—introduce yeh—’
‘Wha—no!’ said Hermione, jumping up. ‘Hagrid, no, don't wake him, really, we don't need—’
But Hagrid had already stepped over the great tree trunk in front of them and was proceeding towards Grawp. When he was about ten feet away, he lifted a long, broken bough from the ground, smiled reassuringly over his shoulder at Harry and Hermione, then poked Grawp hard in the middle of the back with the end of the bough.
The giant gave a roar that echoed around the silent Forest; birds in the treetops overhead rose twittering from their perches and soared away. In front of Harry and Hermione, meanwhile, the gigantic Grawp was rising from the ground, which shuddered as he placed an enormous hand upon it to push himself on to his knees. He turned his head to see who and what had disturbed him.
‘All righ', Grawpy?’ said Hagrid, in a would-be cheery voice, backing away with the long bough raised, ready to poke Grawp again. ‘Had a nice sleep, eh?’
Harry and Hermione retreated as far as they could while still keeping the giant within their sights. Grawp knelt between two trees he had not yet uprooted. They looked up into his startlingly huge face that resembled a grey full moon swimming in the gloom of the clearing. It was as though the features had been hewn on to a great stone ball. The nose was stubby and shapeless, the mouth lopsided and full of misshapen yellow teeth the size of half-bricks; the eyes, small by giant standards, were a muddy greenish-brown and just now were half-gummed together with sleep. Grawp raised dirty knuckles, each as big as a cricket ball, to his eyes, rubbed vigorously, then, without warning, pushed himself to his feet with surprising speed and agility.
‘Oh my!’ Harry heard Hermione squeal, terrified, beside him.
The trees to which the other ends of the ropes around Grawp's wrists and ankles were attached creaked ominously. He was, as Hagrid had said, at least sixteen feet tall. Gazing blearily around, Grawp reached out a hand the size of a beach umbrella, seized a bird's nest from the upper branches of a towering pine and turned it upside-down with a roar of apparent displeasure that there was no bird in it; eggs fell like grenades towards the ground and Hagrid threw his arms over his head to protect himself.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
She sat down next to Ginny, and the two girls and Ron all looked up at Harry.
She sat down next to Ginny, and the two girls and Ron all looked up at Harry.
‘How're you feeling?’ asked Hermione.
‘Fine,’ said Harry stiffly.
‘Oh, don't lie, Harry,’ she said impatiently. ‘Ron and Ginny say you've been hiding from everyone since you got back from St. Mungo's.’
‘They do, do they?’ said Harry, glaring at Ron and Ginny. Ron looked down at his feet but Ginny seemed quite unabashed.
‘Well, you have!’ she said. ‘And you won't look at any of us!’
‘It's you lot who won't look at me!’ said Harry angrily.
‘Maybe you're taking it in turns to look, and keep missing each other,’ suggested Hermione, the corners of her mouth twitching.
‘Very funny,’ snapped Harry, turning away.
‘Oh, stop feeling all misunderstood,’ said Hermione sharply. ‘Look, the others have told me what you overheard last night on the Extendable Ears—’
‘Yeah?’ growled Harry, his hands deep in his pockets as he watched the snow now falling thickly outside. ‘All been talking about me, have you? Well, I'm getting used to it.’
‘We wanted to talk toyou, Harry,’ said Ginny, ‘but as you've been hiding ever since we got back—’
‘I didn't want anyone to talk to me,’ said Harry, who was feeling more and more nettled.
‘Well, that was a bit stupid of you,’ said Ginny angrily, ‘seeing as you don't know anyone but me who's been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how it feels.’
Harry remained quite still as the impact of these words hit him. Then he wheeled round.
‘I forgot,’ he said.
‘Lucky you,’ said Ginny coolly.
‘I'm sorry,’ Harry said, and he meant it. ‘So ... so, do you think I'm being possessed, then?’
‘Well, can you remember everything you've been doing?’ Ginny asked. ‘Are there big blank periods where you don't know what you've been up to?’
Harry racked his brains.
‘No,’ he said.
‘Then You-Know-Who hasn't ever possessed you,’ said Ginny simply. ‘When he did it to me, I couldn't remember what I'd been doing for hours at a time. I'd find myself somewhere and not know how I got there.’
Harry hardly dared believe her, yet his heart was lightening almost in spite of himself.
‘That dream I had about your dad and the snake, though—’
‘Harry, you've had these dreams before,’ Hermione said. ‘You had flashes of what Voldemort was up to last year.’
‘This was different,’ said Harry, shaking his head. ‘I was inside that snake. It was like I was the snake ... what if Voldemort somehow transported me to London—?’
‘One day,’ said Hermione, sounding thoroughly exasperated, ‘you'll read Hogwarts: A History, and perhaps it will remind you that you can't Apparate or Disapparaie inside Hogwarts. Even Voldemort couldn't just make you fly
out of your dormitory, Harry.’
‘You didn't leave your bed, mate,’ said Ron. ‘I saw you thrashing around in your sleep for at least a minute before we could wake you up.’
Harry started pacing up and down the room again, thinking. What they were all saying was not only comforting, it made sense ... without really thinking, he took a sandwich from the plate on the bed and crammed it hungrily
into his mouth.
I'm not the weapon after all, thought Harry. His heart swelled with happiness and relief, and he felt like joining in as they heard Sirius tramping past their door towards Buckbeak's room, singing ‘God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs’
at the top of his voice.
How could he have dreamed of returning to Privet Drive for Christmas? Sirius's delight at having the house full again, and especially at having Harry back, was infectious. He was no longer their sullen host of the summer; now
he seemed determined that everyone should enjoy themselves as much, if not more than they would have done at Hogwarts, and he worked tirelessly in the run-up to Christmas Day, cleaning and decorating with their help, so
that by the time they all went to bed on Christmas Eve the house was barely recognisable. The tarnished chandeliers were no longer hung with cobwebs but with garlands of holly and gold and silver streamers; magical snow
glittered in heaps over the threadbare carpets; a great Christmas tree, obtained by Mundungus and decorated with live fairies, blocked Sirius's family tree from view, and even the stuffed elf-heads on the hall wall wore Father
Christmas hats and beards.
Harry awoke on Christmas morning to find a stack of presents at the foot of his bed and Ron already halfway through opening his own, rather larger, pile.
‘Good haul this year,’ he informed Harry through a cloud of paper. ‘Thanks for the Broom Compass, it's excellent; beats Hermione's—she got me a homework planner—’
Harry sorted through his presents and found one with Hermione's handwriting on it. She had given him, too, a book that resembled a diary except that every time he opened a page it said aloud things like: ‘Do it today or later
you'll pay!’
Sirius and Lupin had given Harry a set of excellent books entitled Practical Defensive Magic and its Use Against the Dark Arts, which had superb, moving colour illustrations of all the counter-jinxes and hexes it described.
Harry flicked through the first volume eagerly; he could see it was going to be highly useful in his plans for the DA. Hagrid had sent a furry brown wallet that had fangs, which were presumably supposed to be an anti-theft
device, but unfortunately prevented Harry putting any money in without getting his fingers ripped off. Tonks's present was a small, working model of a Firebolt, which Harry watched fly around the room, wishing he still had his
full-size version; Ron had given him an enormous box of Every-Flavour Beans, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley the usual hand-knitted jumper and some mince pies, and Dobby a truly dreadful painting that Harry suspected had been
done by the elf himself. He had just turned it upside-down to see whether it looked better that way when, with a loud crack, Fred and George Apparated at the foot of his bed.
‘Merry Christmas,’ said George. ‘Don't go downstairs for a bit.’
‘Why not?’ said Ron.
‘Mum's crying again,’ said Fred heavily. ‘Percy sent back his Christmas jumper.’
‘Without a note,’ added George. ‘Hasn't asked how Dad is or visited him or anything.’
‘We tried to comfort her,’ said Fred, moving around the bed to look at Harry's portrait. ‘Told her Percy's nothing more than a humungous pile of rat droppings.’
‘Didn't work,’ said George, helping himself to a Chocolate Frog. ‘So Lupin took over. Best let him cheer her up before we go down for breakfast, I reckon.’
‘What's that supposed to be, anyway?’ asked Fred, squinting at Dobbys painting. ‘Looks like a gibbon with two black eyes.’
‘It's Harry!’ said George, pointing at the back of the picture, ‘says so on the back!’
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‘How're you feeling?’ asked Hermione.
‘Fine,’ said Harry stiffly.
‘Oh, don't lie, Harry,’ she said impatiently. ‘Ron and Ginny say you've been hiding from everyone since you got back from St. Mungo's.’
‘They do, do they?’ said Harry, glaring at Ron and Ginny. Ron looked down at his feet but Ginny seemed quite unabashed.
‘Well, you have!’ she said. ‘And you won't look at any of us!’
‘It's you lot who won't look at me!’ said Harry angrily.
‘Maybe you're taking it in turns to look, and keep missing each other,’ suggested Hermione, the corners of her mouth twitching.
‘Very funny,’ snapped Harry, turning away.
‘Oh, stop feeling all misunderstood,’ said Hermione sharply. ‘Look, the others have told me what you overheard last night on the Extendable Ears—’
‘Yeah?’ growled Harry, his hands deep in his pockets as he watched the snow now falling thickly outside. ‘All been talking about me, have you? Well, I'm getting used to it.’
‘We wanted to talk toyou, Harry,’ said Ginny, ‘but as you've been hiding ever since we got back—’
‘I didn't want anyone to talk to me,’ said Harry, who was feeling more and more nettled.
‘Well, that was a bit stupid of you,’ said Ginny angrily, ‘seeing as you don't know anyone but me who's been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how it feels.’
Harry remained quite still as the impact of these words hit him. Then he wheeled round.
‘I forgot,’ he said.
‘Lucky you,’ said Ginny coolly.
‘I'm sorry,’ Harry said, and he meant it. ‘So ... so, do you think I'm being possessed, then?’
‘Well, can you remember everything you've been doing?’ Ginny asked. ‘Are there big blank periods where you don't know what you've been up to?’
Harry racked his brains.
‘No,’ he said.
‘Then You-Know-Who hasn't ever possessed you,’ said Ginny simply. ‘When he did it to me, I couldn't remember what I'd been doing for hours at a time. I'd find myself somewhere and not know how I got there.’
Harry hardly dared believe her, yet his heart was lightening almost in spite of himself.
‘That dream I had about your dad and the snake, though—’
‘Harry, you've had these dreams before,’ Hermione said. ‘You had flashes of what Voldemort was up to last year.’
‘This was different,’ said Harry, shaking his head. ‘I was inside that snake. It was like I was the snake ... what if Voldemort somehow transported me to London—?’
‘One day,’ said Hermione, sounding thoroughly exasperated, ‘you'll read Hogwarts: A History, and perhaps it will remind you that you can't Apparate or Disapparaie inside Hogwarts. Even Voldemort couldn't just make you fly
out of your dormitory, Harry.’
‘You didn't leave your bed, mate,’ said Ron. ‘I saw you thrashing around in your sleep for at least a minute before we could wake you up.’
Harry started pacing up and down the room again, thinking. What they were all saying was not only comforting, it made sense ... without really thinking, he took a sandwich from the plate on the bed and crammed it hungrily
into his mouth.
I'm not the weapon after all, thought Harry. His heart swelled with happiness and relief, and he felt like joining in as they heard Sirius tramping past their door towards Buckbeak's room, singing ‘God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs’
at the top of his voice.
How could he have dreamed of returning to Privet Drive for Christmas? Sirius's delight at having the house full again, and especially at having Harry back, was infectious. He was no longer their sullen host of the summer; now
he seemed determined that everyone should enjoy themselves as much, if not more than they would have done at Hogwarts, and he worked tirelessly in the run-up to Christmas Day, cleaning and decorating with their help, so
that by the time they all went to bed on Christmas Eve the house was barely recognisable. The tarnished chandeliers were no longer hung with cobwebs but with garlands of holly and gold and silver streamers; magical snow
glittered in heaps over the threadbare carpets; a great Christmas tree, obtained by Mundungus and decorated with live fairies, blocked Sirius's family tree from view, and even the stuffed elf-heads on the hall wall wore Father
Christmas hats and beards.
Harry awoke on Christmas morning to find a stack of presents at the foot of his bed and Ron already halfway through opening his own, rather larger, pile.
‘Good haul this year,’ he informed Harry through a cloud of paper. ‘Thanks for the Broom Compass, it's excellent; beats Hermione's—she got me a homework planner—’
Harry sorted through his presents and found one with Hermione's handwriting on it. She had given him, too, a book that resembled a diary except that every time he opened a page it said aloud things like: ‘Do it today or later
you'll pay!’
Sirius and Lupin had given Harry a set of excellent books entitled Practical Defensive Magic and its Use Against the Dark Arts, which had superb, moving colour illustrations of all the counter-jinxes and hexes it described.
Harry flicked through the first volume eagerly; he could see it was going to be highly useful in his plans for the DA. Hagrid had sent a furry brown wallet that had fangs, which were presumably supposed to be an anti-theft
device, but unfortunately prevented Harry putting any money in without getting his fingers ripped off. Tonks's present was a small, working model of a Firebolt, which Harry watched fly around the room, wishing he still had his
full-size version; Ron had given him an enormous box of Every-Flavour Beans, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley the usual hand-knitted jumper and some mince pies, and Dobby a truly dreadful painting that Harry suspected had been
done by the elf himself. He had just turned it upside-down to see whether it looked better that way when, with a loud crack, Fred and George Apparated at the foot of his bed.
‘Merry Christmas,’ said George. ‘Don't go downstairs for a bit.’
‘Why not?’ said Ron.
‘Mum's crying again,’ said Fred heavily. ‘Percy sent back his Christmas jumper.’
‘Without a note,’ added George. ‘Hasn't asked how Dad is or visited him or anything.’
‘We tried to comfort her,’ said Fred, moving around the bed to look at Harry's portrait. ‘Told her Percy's nothing more than a humungous pile of rat droppings.’
‘Didn't work,’ said George, helping himself to a Chocolate Frog. ‘So Lupin took over. Best let him cheer her up before we go down for breakfast, I reckon.’
‘What's that supposed to be, anyway?’ asked Fred, squinting at Dobbys painting. ‘Looks like a gibbon with two black eyes.’
‘It's Harry!’ said George, pointing at the back of the picture, ‘says so on the back!’
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Tuesday, November 16, 2010
The bowl of Murtlap essence
The bowl of Murtlap essence fell to the floor and smashed. He became aware that he was on his feet, though he couldn't remember standing up. Crookshanks streaked away under a sofa. Ron and Hermione's smiles had vanished.
‘You don't know what it's like!You—neither of you—you've never had to face him, have you? You think it's just memorising a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you're in class or something? The whole time you're sure you know there's nothing between you and dying except your own—your own brain or guts or whatever—like you can think straight when you know you're about a nanosecond from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die— they've never taught us that in their classes, what it's like to deal with things like that—and you two sit there acting like I'm a clever little boy to be standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up—you just don't get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadn't needed me—’
‘We weren't saying anything like that, mate,’ said Ron, looking aghast. ‘We weren't having a go at Diggory, we didn't—you've got the wrong end of the—’
He looked helplessly at Hermione, whose face was stricken.
‘Harry,’ she said timidly, ‘don't you see? This ... this is exactly why we need you ... we need to know what it's r-really like ... facing him ... facing V-Voldemort.’
It was the first time she had ever said Voldemort's name and it was this, more than anything else, that calmed Harry. Still breathing hard, he sank back into his chair, becoming aware as he did so that his hand was throbbing horribly again. He wished he had not smashed the bowl of Murtlap essence.
‘Well ... think about it,’ said Hermione quietly. ‘Please?’
Harry could not think of anything to say. He was feeling ashamed of his outburst already. He nodded, hardly aware of what he was agreeing to.
Hermione stood up.
‘Well, I'm off to bed,’ she said, in a voice that was clearly as natural as she could make it. ‘Erm ... night.’
Ron had got to his feet, too.
‘Coming?’ he said awkwardly to Harry.
‘Yeah,’ said Harry. ‘In ... in a minute. I'll just clear this up.’
He indicated the smashed bowl on the floor. Ron nodded and left.
‘Reparo,’ Harry muttered, pointing his wand at the broken pieces of china. They flew back together, good as new, but there was no returning the Murtlap essence to the bowl.
He was suddenly so tired he was tempted to sink back into his armchair and sleep there, but instead he forced himself to his feet and followed Ron upstairs. His restless night was punctuated once more by dreams of long corridors and locked doors and he awoke next day with his scar prickling again.
‘You don't know what it's like!You—neither of you—you've never had to face him, have you? You think it's just memorising a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you're in class or something? The whole time you're sure you know there's nothing between you and dying except your own—your own brain or guts or whatever—like you can think straight when you know you're about a nanosecond from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die— they've never taught us that in their classes, what it's like to deal with things like that—and you two sit there acting like I'm a clever little boy to be standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up—you just don't get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadn't needed me—’
‘We weren't saying anything like that, mate,’ said Ron, looking aghast. ‘We weren't having a go at Diggory, we didn't—you've got the wrong end of the—’
He looked helplessly at Hermione, whose face was stricken.
‘Harry,’ she said timidly, ‘don't you see? This ... this is exactly why we need you ... we need to know what it's r-really like ... facing him ... facing V-Voldemort.’
It was the first time she had ever said Voldemort's name and it was this, more than anything else, that calmed Harry. Still breathing hard, he sank back into his chair, becoming aware as he did so that his hand was throbbing horribly again. He wished he had not smashed the bowl of Murtlap essence.
‘Well ... think about it,’ said Hermione quietly. ‘Please?’
Harry could not think of anything to say. He was feeling ashamed of his outburst already. He nodded, hardly aware of what he was agreeing to.
Hermione stood up.
‘Well, I'm off to bed,’ she said, in a voice that was clearly as natural as she could make it. ‘Erm ... night.’
Ron had got to his feet, too.
‘Coming?’ he said awkwardly to Harry.
‘Yeah,’ said Harry. ‘In ... in a minute. I'll just clear this up.’
He indicated the smashed bowl on the floor. Ron nodded and left.
‘Reparo,’ Harry muttered, pointing his wand at the broken pieces of china. They flew back together, good as new, but there was no returning the Murtlap essence to the bowl.
He was suddenly so tired he was tempted to sink back into his armchair and sleep there, but instead he forced himself to his feet and followed Ron upstairs. His restless night was punctuated once more by dreams of long corridors and locked doors and he awoke next day with his scar prickling again.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Chapter 6 The Noble And Most Ancient House Of Black
Mrs. Weasley followed them upstairs looking grim.
‘I want you all to go straight to bed, no talking,’ she said as they reached the first landing, ‘we've got a busy day tomorrow. I expect Ginny's asleep,’ she added to Hermione, ‘so try not to wake her up.’
‘Asleep, yeah, right,’ said Fred in an undertone, after Hermione bade them goodnight and they were climbing to the next floor. ‘If Ginny's not lying awake waiting for Hermione to tell her everything they said downstairs then I'm a Flobberworm....’
‘All right, Ron, Harry,’ said Mrs. Weasley on the second landing, pointing them into their bedroom. ‘Off to bed with you.’
’ ‘Night,’ Harry and Ron said to the twins.
‘Sleep tight,’ said Fred, winking.
Mrs. Weasley closed the door behind Harry with a sharp snap. The bedroom looked, if anything, even danker and gloomier than it had on first sight. The blank picture on the wall was now breathing very slowly and deeply, as though its invisible occupant was asleep. Harry put on his pyjamas, took off his glasses, and climbed into his chilly bed while Ron threw Owl Treats up on top of the wardrobe to pacify Hedwig and Pigwidgeon, who were clattering around and rustling their wings restlessly.
‘We can't let them out to hunt every night,’ Ron explained as he pulled on his maroon pyjamas. ‘Dumbledore doesn't want too many owls swooping around the square, thinks it'll look suspicious. Oh yeah ... I forgot....’
He crossed to the door and bolted it.
‘What're you doing that for?’
‘Kreacher,’ said Ron as he turned off the light. ‘First night I was here he came wandering in at three in the morning. Trust me, you don't want to wake up and find him prowling around your room. Anyway...’ He got into his bed, settled down under the covers, then turned to look at Harry in the darkness. Harry could see his outline by the moonlight filtering in through the grimy window, ‘what d'you reckon?’
Harry didn't need to ask what Ron meant.
‘I want you all to go straight to bed, no talking,’ she said as they reached the first landing, ‘we've got a busy day tomorrow. I expect Ginny's asleep,’ she added to Hermione, ‘so try not to wake her up.’
‘Asleep, yeah, right,’ said Fred in an undertone, after Hermione bade them goodnight and they were climbing to the next floor. ‘If Ginny's not lying awake waiting for Hermione to tell her everything they said downstairs then I'm a Flobberworm....’
‘All right, Ron, Harry,’ said Mrs. Weasley on the second landing, pointing them into their bedroom. ‘Off to bed with you.’
’ ‘Night,’ Harry and Ron said to the twins.
‘Sleep tight,’ said Fred, winking.
Mrs. Weasley closed the door behind Harry with a sharp snap. The bedroom looked, if anything, even danker and gloomier than it had on first sight. The blank picture on the wall was now breathing very slowly and deeply, as though its invisible occupant was asleep. Harry put on his pyjamas, took off his glasses, and climbed into his chilly bed while Ron threw Owl Treats up on top of the wardrobe to pacify Hedwig and Pigwidgeon, who were clattering around and rustling their wings restlessly.
‘We can't let them out to hunt every night,’ Ron explained as he pulled on his maroon pyjamas. ‘Dumbledore doesn't want too many owls swooping around the square, thinks it'll look suspicious. Oh yeah ... I forgot....’
He crossed to the door and bolted it.
‘What're you doing that for?’
‘Kreacher,’ said Ron as he turned off the light. ‘First night I was here he came wandering in at three in the morning. Trust me, you don't want to wake up and find him prowling around your room. Anyway...’ He got into his bed, settled down under the covers, then turned to look at Harry in the darkness. Harry could see his outline by the moonlight filtering in through the grimy window, ‘what d'you reckon?’
Harry didn't need to ask what Ron meant.
Who said none of us are putting the news out?’
Who said none of us are putting the news out?’ said Sirius. ‘Why d'you think Dumbledore's in such trouble?’
‘What d'you mean?’ Harry asked.
‘They're trying to discredit him,’ said Lupin. ‘Didn't you see the Daily Prophet last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but it's not true; he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort's return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot—that's the Wizard High Court—and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too.’
‘But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog Cards,’ said Bill, grinning.
‘It's no laughing matter,’ said Mr. Weasley sharply. ‘If he carries on defying the Ministry like this he could end up in Azkaban, and the last thing we want is to have Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore's out there and wise to what he's up to he's going to go cautiously. If Dumbledore's out of the way—well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field.’
‘But if Voldemort's trying to recruit more Death Eaters it's bound to get out that he's come back, isn't it?’ asked Harry desperately.
‘Voldemort doesn't march up to people's houses and bang on their front doors, Harry,’ said Sirius. ‘He tricks, jinxes and blackmails them. He's well-practised at operating in secret. In any case, gathering followers is only one thing he's interested in. He's got other plans too, plans he can put into operation very quietly indeed, and he's concentrating on those for the moment.’
‘What's he after apart from followers?’ Harry asked swiftly. He thought he saw Sirius and Lupin exchange the most fleeting of looks before Sirius answered, ‘Stuff he can only get by stealth.’
When Harry continued to look puzzled, Sirius said, ‘Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time.’
‘When he was powerful before?’
‘Yes.’
‘Like what kind of weapon?’ said Harry. ‘Something worse than the Avada Kedavra—?’
‘That's enough!’
Mrs. Weasley spoke from the shadows beside the door. Harry hadn't noticed her return from taking Ginny upstairs. Her arms were crossed and she looked furious.
‘I want you in bed, now. All of you,’ she added, looking around at Fred, George, Ron and Hermione.
‘You can't boss us—’ Fred began.
‘Watch me,’ snarled Mrs. Weasley. She was trembling slightly as she looked at Sirius. ‘You've given Harry plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct him into the Order straightaway.’
‘Why not?’ said Harry quickly. ‘I'll join, I want to join, I want to fight.’
‘No.’
It was not Mrs Weasley who spoke this time, but Lupin.
‘The Order is comprised only of overage wizards,’ he said. ‘Wizards who have left school,’ he added, as Fred and George opened their mouths. ‘There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you... I think Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough.’
Sirius half-shrugged but did not argue. Mrs. Weasley beckoned imperiously to her sons and Herrnione. One by one they stood up and Harry, recognising defeat, followed suit.
‘What d'you mean?’ Harry asked.
‘They're trying to discredit him,’ said Lupin. ‘Didn't you see the Daily Prophet last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but it's not true; he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort's return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot—that's the Wizard High Court—and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too.’
‘But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog Cards,’ said Bill, grinning.
‘It's no laughing matter,’ said Mr. Weasley sharply. ‘If he carries on defying the Ministry like this he could end up in Azkaban, and the last thing we want is to have Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore's out there and wise to what he's up to he's going to go cautiously. If Dumbledore's out of the way—well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field.’
‘But if Voldemort's trying to recruit more Death Eaters it's bound to get out that he's come back, isn't it?’ asked Harry desperately.
‘Voldemort doesn't march up to people's houses and bang on their front doors, Harry,’ said Sirius. ‘He tricks, jinxes and blackmails them. He's well-practised at operating in secret. In any case, gathering followers is only one thing he's interested in. He's got other plans too, plans he can put into operation very quietly indeed, and he's concentrating on those for the moment.’
‘What's he after apart from followers?’ Harry asked swiftly. He thought he saw Sirius and Lupin exchange the most fleeting of looks before Sirius answered, ‘Stuff he can only get by stealth.’
When Harry continued to look puzzled, Sirius said, ‘Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time.’
‘When he was powerful before?’
‘Yes.’
‘Like what kind of weapon?’ said Harry. ‘Something worse than the Avada Kedavra—?’
‘That's enough!’
Mrs. Weasley spoke from the shadows beside the door. Harry hadn't noticed her return from taking Ginny upstairs. Her arms were crossed and she looked furious.
‘I want you in bed, now. All of you,’ she added, looking around at Fred, George, Ron and Hermione.
‘You can't boss us—’ Fred began.
‘Watch me,’ snarled Mrs. Weasley. She was trembling slightly as she looked at Sirius. ‘You've given Harry plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct him into the Order straightaway.’
‘Why not?’ said Harry quickly. ‘I'll join, I want to join, I want to fight.’
‘No.’
It was not Mrs Weasley who spoke this time, but Lupin.
‘The Order is comprised only of overage wizards,’ he said. ‘Wizards who have left school,’ he added, as Fred and George opened their mouths. ‘There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you... I think Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough.’
Sirius half-shrugged but did not argue. Mrs. Weasley beckoned imperiously to her sons and Herrnione. One by one they stood up and Harry, recognising defeat, followed suit.
‘Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is
‘Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is, a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice,’ said Lupin. ‘But it seems he's become fond of power, and much more confident. He loves being Minister for Magic and he's managed to convince himself that he's the clever one and Dumbledore's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it.’
‘How can he think that?’ said Harry angrily. ‘How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up—that I'd make it all up?’
‘Because accepting that Voldermort's back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn't had to cope with for nearly fourteen years,’ said Sirius bitterly. ‘Fudge just can't bring himself to face it. It's so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore's lying to destabilise him.’
‘You see the problem,’ said Lupin. ‘While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort it's hard to convince people he's back, especially as they really don't want to believe it in the first place. What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to report any of what they're calling Dumbledore's rumour-mongering, so most of the wizarding community are completely unaware anything's happened, and that makes them easy targets for the Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse.’
‘But you're telling people, aren't you?’ said Harry, looking around at Mr. Weasley, Sirius, Bill, Mundungus, Lupin and Tonks. ‘You're letting people know he's back?’
They all smiled humourlessly.
‘Well, as everyone thinks I'm a mad mass-murderer and the Ministry's put a ten thousand Galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?’ said Sirius restlessly.
‘And I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community,’ said Lupin. ‘It's an occupational hazard of being a werewolf.’
‘Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off,’ said Sirius, ‘and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them.’
‘We've managed to convince a couple of people, though,’ said Mr. Weasley. Tonks here, for one—she's too young to have been in the Order of the Phoenix last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage— Kingsley Shacklebolt's been a real asset, too; he's in charge of the hunt for Sirius, so he's been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet.’
‘But if none of you are putting the news out that Voldemort's back—’ Harry began.
‘How can he think that?’ said Harry angrily. ‘How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up—that I'd make it all up?’
‘Because accepting that Voldermort's back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn't had to cope with for nearly fourteen years,’ said Sirius bitterly. ‘Fudge just can't bring himself to face it. It's so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore's lying to destabilise him.’
‘You see the problem,’ said Lupin. ‘While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort it's hard to convince people he's back, especially as they really don't want to believe it in the first place. What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to report any of what they're calling Dumbledore's rumour-mongering, so most of the wizarding community are completely unaware anything's happened, and that makes them easy targets for the Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse.’
‘But you're telling people, aren't you?’ said Harry, looking around at Mr. Weasley, Sirius, Bill, Mundungus, Lupin and Tonks. ‘You're letting people know he's back?’
They all smiled humourlessly.
‘Well, as everyone thinks I'm a mad mass-murderer and the Ministry's put a ten thousand Galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?’ said Sirius restlessly.
‘And I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community,’ said Lupin. ‘It's an occupational hazard of being a werewolf.’
‘Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off,’ said Sirius, ‘and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them.’
‘We've managed to convince a couple of people, though,’ said Mr. Weasley. Tonks here, for one—she's too young to have been in the Order of the Phoenix last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage— Kingsley Shacklebolt's been a real asset, too; he's in charge of the hunt for Sirius, so he's been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet.’
‘But if none of you are putting the news out that Voldemort's back—’ Harry began.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Chapter 11 The Sorting Hat's New Song
Harry did not want to tell the others that he and Luna were having the same hallucination, if that was what it was, so he said nothing more about the horses as he sat down inside the carriage and slammed the door behind
him. Nevertheless, he could not help watching the silhouettes of the horses moving beyond the window.
‘Did everyone see that Grubbly-Plank woman?’ asked Ginny. ‘What's she doing back here? Hagrid can't have left, can he?’
‘I'll be quite glad if he has,’ said Luna, ‘he isn't a very good teacher, is he?’
‘Yes, he is!’ said Harry, Ron and Ginny angrily.
Harry glared at Hermione. She cleared her throat and quickly said, ‘Erm ... yes ... he's very good.’
‘Well, we in Ravenclaw think he's a bit of a joke,’ said Luna, unfazed.
‘You've got a rubbish sense of humour then,’ Ron snapped, as the wheels below them creaked into motion.
Luna did not seem perturbed by Ron's rudeness; on the contrary, she simply watched him for a while as though he were a mildly interesting television programme.
Rattling and swaying, the carriages moved in convoy up the road. When they passed between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars on either side of the gates to the school grounds, Harry leaned forwards to try and
see whether there were any lights on in Hagrid's cabin by the Forbidden Forest, but the grounds were in complete darkness. Hogwarts Castle, however, loomed ever closer: a towering mass of turrets, jet black against the
dark sky, here and there a window blazing fiery bright above them.
The carriages jingled to a halt near the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors and Harry got out of the carriage first. He turned again to look for lit windows down by the Forest, but there was definitely no sign of life
within Hagrid's cabin. Unwillingly, because he had half-hoped they would have vanished, he turned his eyes instead upon the strange, skeletal creatures standing quietly in the chill night air, their blank white eyes gleaming.
Harry had once before had the experience of seeing something that Ron could not, but that had been a reflection in a mirror, something much more insubstantial than a hundred very solid-looking beasts strong enough to pull
a fleet of carriages. If Luna was to be believed, the beasts had always been there but invisible. Why, then, could Harry suddenly see them, and why could Ron not?
‘Are you coming or what?’ said Ron beside him.
‘Oh ... yeah,’ said Harry quickly and they joined the crowd hurrying up the stone steps into the castle.
The Entrance Hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast.
The four long house tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the
silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes. Again,
Harry noticed people putting their heads together to whisper as he passed; he gritted his teeth and tried to act as though he neither noticed nor cared.
Luna drifted away from them at the Ravenclaw table. The moment they reached Gryffindor's, Ginny was hailed by some fellow fourth-years and left to sit with them; Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville found seats together about
halfway down the table between Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor house ghost, and Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, the last two of whom gave Harry airy, overly-friendly greetings that made him quite sure they had
stopped talking about him a split second before. He had more important things to worry about, however: he was looking over the students’ heads to the staff table that ran along the top wall of the Hall.
‘He's not there.’
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him. Nevertheless, he could not help watching the silhouettes of the horses moving beyond the window.
‘Did everyone see that Grubbly-Plank woman?’ asked Ginny. ‘What's she doing back here? Hagrid can't have left, can he?’
‘I'll be quite glad if he has,’ said Luna, ‘he isn't a very good teacher, is he?’
‘Yes, he is!’ said Harry, Ron and Ginny angrily.
Harry glared at Hermione. She cleared her throat and quickly said, ‘Erm ... yes ... he's very good.’
‘Well, we in Ravenclaw think he's a bit of a joke,’ said Luna, unfazed.
‘You've got a rubbish sense of humour then,’ Ron snapped, as the wheels below them creaked into motion.
Luna did not seem perturbed by Ron's rudeness; on the contrary, she simply watched him for a while as though he were a mildly interesting television programme.
Rattling and swaying, the carriages moved in convoy up the road. When they passed between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars on either side of the gates to the school grounds, Harry leaned forwards to try and
see whether there were any lights on in Hagrid's cabin by the Forbidden Forest, but the grounds were in complete darkness. Hogwarts Castle, however, loomed ever closer: a towering mass of turrets, jet black against the
dark sky, here and there a window blazing fiery bright above them.
The carriages jingled to a halt near the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors and Harry got out of the carriage first. He turned again to look for lit windows down by the Forest, but there was definitely no sign of life
within Hagrid's cabin. Unwillingly, because he had half-hoped they would have vanished, he turned his eyes instead upon the strange, skeletal creatures standing quietly in the chill night air, their blank white eyes gleaming.
Harry had once before had the experience of seeing something that Ron could not, but that had been a reflection in a mirror, something much more insubstantial than a hundred very solid-looking beasts strong enough to pull
a fleet of carriages. If Luna was to be believed, the beasts had always been there but invisible. Why, then, could Harry suddenly see them, and why could Ron not?
‘Are you coming or what?’ said Ron beside him.
‘Oh ... yeah,’ said Harry quickly and they joined the crowd hurrying up the stone steps into the castle.
The Entrance Hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast.
The four long house tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the
silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes. Again,
Harry noticed people putting their heads together to whisper as he passed; he gritted his teeth and tried to act as though he neither noticed nor cared.
Luna drifted away from them at the Ravenclaw table. The moment they reached Gryffindor's, Ginny was hailed by some fellow fourth-years and left to sit with them; Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville found seats together about
halfway down the table between Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor house ghost, and Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, the last two of whom gave Harry airy, overly-friendly greetings that made him quite sure they had
stopped talking about him a split second before. He had more important things to worry about, however: he was looking over the students’ heads to the staff table that ran along the top wall of the Hall.
‘He's not there.’
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Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Japanese knotweed eradication continues
Author：Paul Phlorum Source：none Hits：120 UpdateTime：2008-7-10 22:42:55
Japanese knotweed is continuing to spread throughout the United Kingdom. Although attempts at Japanese knotweed eradication are quite intensive, weed control is still needed as the knotweed remains a significant problem.
The Victorians saw the first introduction of Japanese knotweed. Control of the invasive weed at that time was not considered necessary. However, after many years of freedom Japanese knotweed removal has become essential. As Japanese knotweed thrives away from its original habitat of volcanic and other harsh conditions, the United Kingdom has a perfect climate; consequently, the control of the plant is becoming more and more important. Japanese knotweed eradication is particularly difficult as the nature of the plant means that it grows quickly and weed control is necessary to stop regeneration as the roots will spread quickly; up to three to four inches a day.
Japanese knotweed removal is essential because the plant is very threatening as it can grow through parts of buildings, damaging foundations, drains, and even walls. Also, without effective Japanese knotweed eradication, the rhizomes (roots) of the Japanese plant can still continue to grow underground and appear elsewhere. Japanese knotweed removal does not always solve the problem. Weed control is also needed even after a site has been treated to maintain a Japanese knotweed free area.
Japanese knotweed spreads entirely by vegetative means. They reproduce through small pieces of stem and root cuttings. Therefore spreading the rhizomes on sites will exacerbate the Japanese knotweed problem, causing the need for further eradication.
As Japanese knotweed is such a virulently invasive plant, knotweed control needs to be applied to more than just the ability for it to spread from small pieces of root material. The plant typically springs up in April, when it begins its determined growth in all directions. Thousands of pounds can be added to site costs for Japanese knotweed eradication, it can grow anywhere on all sites across the United Kingdom. Its original habitat is harsh and the climate in the United Kingdom encourages its development, often enveloping our native vegetation. Leaving the problem of even a small amount of Japanese knotweed unchecked is a mistake as its fast growth and high voracity means it will grow to form a new plant from just a fragment of root. Therefore Japanese knotweed is becoming more and more common on sites that are disturbed by human activity including, in particular, many areas where development has been planned.
Japanese knotweed is continuing to spread throughout the United Kingdom. Although attempts at Japanese knotweed eradication are quite intensive, weed control is still needed as the knotweed remains a significant problem.
The Victorians saw the first introduction of Japanese knotweed. Control of the invasive weed at that time was not considered necessary. However, after many years of freedom Japanese knotweed removal has become essential. As Japanese knotweed thrives away from its original habitat of volcanic and other harsh conditions, the United Kingdom has a perfect climate; consequently, the control of the plant is becoming more and more important. Japanese knotweed eradication is particularly difficult as the nature of the plant means that it grows quickly and weed control is necessary to stop regeneration as the roots will spread quickly; up to three to four inches a day.
Japanese knotweed removal is essential because the plant is very threatening as it can grow through parts of buildings, damaging foundations, drains, and even walls. Also, without effective Japanese knotweed eradication, the rhizomes (roots) of the Japanese plant can still continue to grow underground and appear elsewhere. Japanese knotweed removal does not always solve the problem. Weed control is also needed even after a site has been treated to maintain a Japanese knotweed free area.
Japanese knotweed spreads entirely by vegetative means. They reproduce through small pieces of stem and root cuttings. Therefore spreading the rhizomes on sites will exacerbate the Japanese knotweed problem, causing the need for further eradication.
As Japanese knotweed is such a virulently invasive plant, knotweed control needs to be applied to more than just the ability for it to spread from small pieces of root material. The plant typically springs up in April, when it begins its determined growth in all directions. Thousands of pounds can be added to site costs for Japanese knotweed eradication, it can grow anywhere on all sites across the United Kingdom. Its original habitat is harsh and the climate in the United Kingdom encourages its development, often enveloping our native vegetation. Leaving the problem of even a small amount of Japanese knotweed unchecked is a mistake as its fast growth and high voracity means it will grow to form a new plant from just a fragment of root. Therefore Japanese knotweed is becoming more and more common on sites that are disturbed by human activity including, in particular, many areas where development has been planned.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Lets Look At A Coffee Plant
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：123 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 1:10:03
The coffee plant may not be as diverse as the number of coffee flavors out there (there's no coffee plant that grows coffee hazelnut beans), but they are equally interesting. Coffee plants can be classified into two major
species, the Coffea arabica and the Coffea canephora most commonly known as the robusta variety.
Coffea arabica is a much older species. Its roots can be traced back as far as the mountains of Kaffa, Ethiopia. It is indigenous in south-western Ethiopia. Even though the Arabica coffee is well accepted as the better tasting
variety, growing the plant can be a little daunting. The Arabica variety is more susceptible to diseases.
Most of the Arabica variety is now being planted in Latin America, East Africa and in Asia and the Pacific. It is highly notable that even though the same Arabica specie is being grown in these countries, each country produces
a slightly different kind of Arabica, having distinct flavors and characteristics. Aside from the flavors, highly noticeable differences will be observed in the coffee's aroma, the body or feel of the coffee as well as the acidity.
And not only does the location affect the characteristics of coffee but the method of processing the coffee beans can also have varying effects. Arabica varieties grow well in the highlands. It is known that they grow best at
altitudes between 3,000 to 6,000 feet. What the colder climate does is slow down the maturing time for the berry and creates a smaller and denser bean. The bean becomes less porous and contains less moisture which traps
the flavor within the bean.
The robusta variety, on the other hand, is a much sturdier plant. It contains 40-50% more caffeine than the Arabica. Even though its less superior in terms of taste, aroma and feel, robusta varieties are being cultivated since
their resilience allow them to be grown in areas where the Arabica kind can't grow.
The robusta coffee is somewhat bitter and has little flavor compared to the Arabica variety. Commercial and instant coffees are often made from robusta coffee beans. The coffee manufacturers use various techniques to
remove the bitter taste and the card board smell from the beans.
Aside from those two main species, other coffee species also exists. Coffea liberica and Coffea esliaca are some of the smaller specie coffee groups. The liberica coffee in particular can rival Arabica in taste, flavor and
aroma. Liberaca even costs some more than the robusta kind.
However, nothing beats coffees that are grown on smaller farm lands, estates or on peasant plots. The trick is in the handling of the plant during harvesting. If gathering the beans has been done haphazardly without quality
control, chances are the bean's overall taste, flavor and aroma will be compromised.
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The coffee plant may not be as diverse as the number of coffee flavors out there (there's no coffee plant that grows coffee hazelnut beans), but they are equally interesting. Coffee plants can be classified into two major
species, the Coffea arabica and the Coffea canephora most commonly known as the robusta variety.
Coffea arabica is a much older species. Its roots can be traced back as far as the mountains of Kaffa, Ethiopia. It is indigenous in south-western Ethiopia. Even though the Arabica coffee is well accepted as the better tasting
variety, growing the plant can be a little daunting. The Arabica variety is more susceptible to diseases.
Most of the Arabica variety is now being planted in Latin America, East Africa and in Asia and the Pacific. It is highly notable that even though the same Arabica specie is being grown in these countries, each country produces
a slightly different kind of Arabica, having distinct flavors and characteristics. Aside from the flavors, highly noticeable differences will be observed in the coffee's aroma, the body or feel of the coffee as well as the acidity.
And not only does the location affect the characteristics of coffee but the method of processing the coffee beans can also have varying effects. Arabica varieties grow well in the highlands. It is known that they grow best at
altitudes between 3,000 to 6,000 feet. What the colder climate does is slow down the maturing time for the berry and creates a smaller and denser bean. The bean becomes less porous and contains less moisture which traps
the flavor within the bean.
The robusta variety, on the other hand, is a much sturdier plant. It contains 40-50% more caffeine than the Arabica. Even though its less superior in terms of taste, aroma and feel, robusta varieties are being cultivated since
their resilience allow them to be grown in areas where the Arabica kind can't grow.
The robusta coffee is somewhat bitter and has little flavor compared to the Arabica variety. Commercial and instant coffees are often made from robusta coffee beans. The coffee manufacturers use various techniques to
remove the bitter taste and the card board smell from the beans.
Aside from those two main species, other coffee species also exists. Coffea liberica and Coffea esliaca are some of the smaller specie coffee groups. The liberica coffee in particular can rival Arabica in taste, flavor and
aroma. Liberaca even costs some more than the robusta kind.
However, nothing beats coffees that are grown on smaller farm lands, estates or on peasant plots. The trick is in the handling of the plant during harvesting. If gathering the beans has been done haphazardly without quality
control, chances are the bean's overall taste, flavor and aroma will be compromised.
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Monday, November 8, 2010
Treadmill WiFi Equipment Monitor - Making Running Much Cooler
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：119 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 0:43:18
A recently new addition to the fitness world is the treadmill wifi equipment monitor. Many companies are now offering these as a perk in addition to their high quality treadmills. Don't expect to get one of these with a low end model as these are very high quality.
What is it exactly? It's a heart rate monitor that sends the readings automatically to your treadmill. It is state of the art piece of equipment and requires absolutely no wires. When you own one of these you are getting your hands on one of the newest pieces of treadmill technology.
These new wireless heart rate monitors come in several styles. You can get one that straps around your chest. They also sell monitors that look like a watch. The monitor that straps around your chest is the most popular and readily available however.
Are they expensive? For such a high quality piece of equipment that is so important, you cannot afford not to have one. You can find them new and on sale for right under a hundred dollars. Some companies even offer free shipping and extra sales incentives to get your business. You will need to make sure you get one that is compatible with your treadmill.
How does it work? While using your treadmill you wear the wireless monitor. The monitor sends your information straight to your treadmill. You treadmill then shows your information on the console. By having you heart rate right in front of you, you will know if your heart rate is working in it's target heart range. If your heart is beating too fast you will know you need to slow down. If your heart rate is not fast enough, you will need to speed up to reach optimum results.
These wireless monitors are a lot more convenient that manually taking your pulse. You don't have to stop and count. Stopping interrupts your workout and the monitor is more accurate, as people make math errors.
These heart rate monitors are hands free and easy to install. They give fast and accurate pulse readings and continuously monitor your heart. These are highly suggested for anyone using a treadmill, but especially heart patients.
A treadmill wifi equipment monitor is one of the newest inventions in the treadmill world. Everyone who plans on buying a high quality treadmills should ask if this is available with their model. They are accurate and rather inexpensive for the important job they do.
A recently new addition to the fitness world is the treadmill wifi equipment monitor. Many companies are now offering these as a perk in addition to their high quality treadmills. Don't expect to get one of these with a low end model as these are very high quality.
What is it exactly? It's a heart rate monitor that sends the readings automatically to your treadmill. It is state of the art piece of equipment and requires absolutely no wires. When you own one of these you are getting your hands on one of the newest pieces of treadmill technology.
These new wireless heart rate monitors come in several styles. You can get one that straps around your chest. They also sell monitors that look like a watch. The monitor that straps around your chest is the most popular and readily available however.
Are they expensive? For such a high quality piece of equipment that is so important, you cannot afford not to have one. You can find them new and on sale for right under a hundred dollars. Some companies even offer free shipping and extra sales incentives to get your business. You will need to make sure you get one that is compatible with your treadmill.
How does it work? While using your treadmill you wear the wireless monitor. The monitor sends your information straight to your treadmill. You treadmill then shows your information on the console. By having you heart rate right in front of you, you will know if your heart rate is working in it's target heart range. If your heart is beating too fast you will know you need to slow down. If your heart rate is not fast enough, you will need to speed up to reach optimum results.
These wireless monitors are a lot more convenient that manually taking your pulse. You don't have to stop and count. Stopping interrupts your workout and the monitor is more accurate, as people make math errors.
These heart rate monitors are hands free and easy to install. They give fast and accurate pulse readings and continuously monitor your heart. These are highly suggested for anyone using a treadmill, but especially heart patients.
A treadmill wifi equipment monitor is one of the newest inventions in the treadmill world. Everyone who plans on buying a high quality treadmills should ask if this is available with their model. They are accurate and rather inexpensive for the important job they do.
Fitness through Personal Training
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：128 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 0:43:20
Keeping the human body in good shape is an important concern for the majority of people these days. In this fast moving world, no one can afford to be lazy and inactive just because he or she is not physically fit. To tackle this problem efficiently, Personal training is a great option to get rid of extra pounds. Personal training basically refers to an idea of losing weight by staying at home and doing various physical exercises and managing a healthy diet. It helps in avoiding the fatigue of joining a gym on a regular basis.
Personal training has different aspects and you can adopt a number of different methods to get fit. It all depends on which part of the body needs more focus, for example, if someone has an overweight belly, he needs to adopt special exercises that can help him to get the belly in shape. Personal training not only keeps the human body fit, but it also maintains mental fitness. The ways to conduct personal training varies from machine based exercises to functional free weight exercises that include the use of instruments like dumbbells and weight baring workouts.
The key factor to success in personal training is punctuality. One should stick to the time table that he or she defined to get the best results. In the early stages, you should put less effort and do easy exercises just to avoid any sort of injury. As you proceed with your schedule, you can increase the timings and the duration of each set of exercise. This will help the body adapt to the feeling exertion. Eventually, you will gradually lose extra weight and transform the shape of your body.
Some people hire personal trainers for instructions and to get their work done in a more appropriate manner. Personal trainers charge you for the services and the tips they provide and assess you after a particular time span. One can hire a personal trainer from the internet and even from his home town gym. Trainers offer different personal training programs depending on the requirement of the customer. Following is a list of some exercises and methods that are often carried out during personal training.
General Exercise & Fitness Nutrition Counseling and Weight Management Abdominal & Core Conditioning Training Aerobic or Cardiovascular Exercise Balance & Flexibility Training Muscle Building & Weight loss Management Kick Box Cardio Thai Box Cardio
Personal training, as discussed above in detail, is one of the best ways to keep the body fit and attractive by staying at home and practicing the exercises using machines, controlling diet patterns and adopting some other fat burning exercises. Resourceful media and internet has made it easier to approach and learn a variety of ways of implementing your own personal training. People are more aware and wary of their physical fitness these days and hence, personal training is in high demand all around the world. Now one can find many personal trainers and personal training helping manuals on the web.
Keeping the human body in good shape is an important concern for the majority of people these days. In this fast moving world, no one can afford to be lazy and inactive just because he or she is not physically fit. To tackle this problem efficiently, Personal training is a great option to get rid of extra pounds. Personal training basically refers to an idea of losing weight by staying at home and doing various physical exercises and managing a healthy diet. It helps in avoiding the fatigue of joining a gym on a regular basis.
Personal training has different aspects and you can adopt a number of different methods to get fit. It all depends on which part of the body needs more focus, for example, if someone has an overweight belly, he needs to adopt special exercises that can help him to get the belly in shape. Personal training not only keeps the human body fit, but it also maintains mental fitness. The ways to conduct personal training varies from machine based exercises to functional free weight exercises that include the use of instruments like dumbbells and weight baring workouts.
The key factor to success in personal training is punctuality. One should stick to the time table that he or she defined to get the best results. In the early stages, you should put less effort and do easy exercises just to avoid any sort of injury. As you proceed with your schedule, you can increase the timings and the duration of each set of exercise. This will help the body adapt to the feeling exertion. Eventually, you will gradually lose extra weight and transform the shape of your body.
Some people hire personal trainers for instructions and to get their work done in a more appropriate manner. Personal trainers charge you for the services and the tips they provide and assess you after a particular time span. One can hire a personal trainer from the internet and even from his home town gym. Trainers offer different personal training programs depending on the requirement of the customer. Following is a list of some exercises and methods that are often carried out during personal training.
General Exercise & Fitness Nutrition Counseling and Weight Management Abdominal & Core Conditioning Training Aerobic or Cardiovascular Exercise Balance & Flexibility Training Muscle Building & Weight loss Management Kick Box Cardio Thai Box Cardio
Personal training, as discussed above in detail, is one of the best ways to keep the body fit and attractive by staying at home and practicing the exercises using machines, controlling diet patterns and adopting some other fat burning exercises. Resourceful media and internet has made it easier to approach and learn a variety of ways of implementing your own personal training. People are more aware and wary of their physical fitness these days and hence, personal training is in high demand all around the world. Now one can find many personal trainers and personal training helping manuals on the web.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Why Wont a Lender Take Your Deed in Lieu of Foreclosure?
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：139 UpdateTime：2008-10-18 23:51:56
A problem that is frequently happening to homeowners is their home has more mortgage than market value. With the severe decline in real estate markets across the country, the hardest hit areas have hundreds of thousands of "upside down" mortgages. Simply, this is where the amount owed on the property is more than the value at which the property can be sold, even if the homeowner is willing to make the payments and wait for possibly years. The adage is familiar to everyone "why throw good money after bad" with the result that homeowners across America are simply walking away from their mortgages and letting the lender take their homes back by foreclosure.
This market pressure of homes coming on the market further compounds the problem with falling home values and fewer homes being sold at any price except well below what was considered fair market value (FMV) just months before. The decline has stopped in many parts of the country and will stabilize in the coming months. Until then, the homeowner in a distressed market with an upside down mortgage is forced to make a decision about his future and whether it makes economic sense to make the mortgage payments or not.
One option to the homeowner who wants to leave his home is to offer the lender the deed to his home and simply walk out the front door never to return. So if the lender had a chance to get the deed why wouldn't they take it so the foreclosure process with all its costs would be avoided? One reason not so obvious to the homeowner is the accounting practices of the lenders. It is more beneficial to have a foreclosure in progress than to have a bank owned property, called "real estate owned" (REO) property. While the difference is relatively small to the lender's accounting system, when multiplied by thousands of foreclosures, the REO's can be a financial catastrophe. More often, the lender has gotten a Broker's Price Opinion (BPO) or appraisal as soon as the homeowner is 90 days late on his mortgage. The lender knows exactly how much trouble they are in when they take the home back by a deed in lieu of foreclosure or by a foreclosure action that turns the property into an REO.
If the property is encumbered by a second mortgage and other liens such as mechanic liens or any junior mortgages or judgments, the only way the lender can safely take the property back is to "extinguish" these junior liens and get free and clear title after the foreclosure action. So if the homeowner calls the lender and requests to give a deed to the lender, the lender will do his research first to see whether the foreclosure process is necessary.
A homeowner in foreclosure who has no junior liens, mortgages or judgments against his property should call the lender directly and request the procedure for the lender taking the deed from him. Caution " if the lender says the homeowner must fill out a financial statement and give a "hardship letter", the homeowner must remember that the lender can use the financial information to get a judgment against the homeowner later if the residence is not the homeowner's homesteaded property or if the homeowner has other assets that can be attached by a judgment. Get legal advice from an attorney who is competent in dealing with real estate transactions about what information is actually needed by the lender to take the deed, and remember if there are junior liens, the lender will never take back a deed in lieu of foreclosure no matter what they tell the homeowner.
A problem that is frequently happening to homeowners is their home has more mortgage than market value. With the severe decline in real estate markets across the country, the hardest hit areas have hundreds of thousands of "upside down" mortgages. Simply, this is where the amount owed on the property is more than the value at which the property can be sold, even if the homeowner is willing to make the payments and wait for possibly years. The adage is familiar to everyone "why throw good money after bad" with the result that homeowners across America are simply walking away from their mortgages and letting the lender take their homes back by foreclosure.
This market pressure of homes coming on the market further compounds the problem with falling home values and fewer homes being sold at any price except well below what was considered fair market value (FMV) just months before. The decline has stopped in many parts of the country and will stabilize in the coming months. Until then, the homeowner in a distressed market with an upside down mortgage is forced to make a decision about his future and whether it makes economic sense to make the mortgage payments or not.
One option to the homeowner who wants to leave his home is to offer the lender the deed to his home and simply walk out the front door never to return. So if the lender had a chance to get the deed why wouldn't they take it so the foreclosure process with all its costs would be avoided? One reason not so obvious to the homeowner is the accounting practices of the lenders. It is more beneficial to have a foreclosure in progress than to have a bank owned property, called "real estate owned" (REO) property. While the difference is relatively small to the lender's accounting system, when multiplied by thousands of foreclosures, the REO's can be a financial catastrophe. More often, the lender has gotten a Broker's Price Opinion (BPO) or appraisal as soon as the homeowner is 90 days late on his mortgage. The lender knows exactly how much trouble they are in when they take the home back by a deed in lieu of foreclosure or by a foreclosure action that turns the property into an REO.
If the property is encumbered by a second mortgage and other liens such as mechanic liens or any junior mortgages or judgments, the only way the lender can safely take the property back is to "extinguish" these junior liens and get free and clear title after the foreclosure action. So if the homeowner calls the lender and requests to give a deed to the lender, the lender will do his research first to see whether the foreclosure process is necessary.
A homeowner in foreclosure who has no junior liens, mortgages or judgments against his property should call the lender directly and request the procedure for the lender taking the deed from him. Caution " if the lender says the homeowner must fill out a financial statement and give a "hardship letter", the homeowner must remember that the lender can use the financial information to get a judgment against the homeowner later if the residence is not the homeowner's homesteaded property or if the homeowner has other assets that can be attached by a judgment. Get legal advice from an attorney who is competent in dealing with real estate transactions about what information is actually needed by the lender to take the deed, and remember if there are junior liens, the lender will never take back a deed in lieu of foreclosure no matter what they tell the homeowner.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Sling That Baby Why Baby Wearing Is a Smart Choice for New Parents
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：102 UpdateTime：2008-10-18 23:34:20
Baby slings and baby wraps have been in use for hundreds of years, but are receiving new attention thanks to celebrity parents like Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. Jolie and Pitt have been spotted carrying their newborn twins in baby slings while shopping and dining out. The babies look very happy and calm while their parents look stylish and unique.
What is it about these baby pouches that have made them so popular lately?
Two of the main reasons for recent increases in sling sales are an increase in mobility for the parents and a decrease in crying and general fussing for the infants. With the baby in the sling, parents have both arms free to do chores around the home, get through the grocery store quickly, and even have a nice dinner out all while cradling their baby in a loving and healthy manner. The babies love being in their wraps because they feel safe and secure right next to their parents body and have a nice high vantage point to look around and get maximum visual and audio stimulation. Which would you prefer being strapped into a rolling cage low to the ground or being right next to your mothers heart in a beautiful sling made out of soft, luxurious organic fibers?
The slings and wraps are also light and highly versatile they can go almost anywhere including tight aisles in clothing stores, crowded outdoor marketplaces, and even up and down stairs with no problem. Imagine getting in and out of your SUV without the hassle of unloading the stroller from the back, putting it together, loading up your child, strapping them in, and then closing up the three doors you had to open to get all that done. With a baby sling, you just slip the sling over your shoulder, gently cradle your child inside the soft fabric, get your handbag and go.
Another reason for the huge popularity of baby wraps today is their unrivaled versatility. You can carry your child facing you up near your chest, down on your hip, facing away from you on your belly like a kangaroo, on your back like a backpack, up high on your shoulder, or even in a nursing position. Think about how convenient it would be if you could nurse your child while shopping with both arms free in your local market? Your baby is warm, secure, and eating lunch all with 100% privacy due to the extra fabric included in his wrap just for this purpose.
If you have not experienced the freedom, comfort, and convenience of a baby wrap you need to order one immediately and put it to use right away. Youll find yourself lugging around a lot less equipment, your back wont hurt at the end of the day from stooping and lifting repeatedly, your baby will sleep and eat more while crying less, and you will look fantastic the entire time while wearing your new designer sling.
Baby slings and baby wraps have been in use for hundreds of years, but are receiving new attention thanks to celebrity parents like Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. Jolie and Pitt have been spotted carrying their newborn twins in baby slings while shopping and dining out. The babies look very happy and calm while their parents look stylish and unique.
What is it about these baby pouches that have made them so popular lately?
Two of the main reasons for recent increases in sling sales are an increase in mobility for the parents and a decrease in crying and general fussing for the infants. With the baby in the sling, parents have both arms free to do chores around the home, get through the grocery store quickly, and even have a nice dinner out all while cradling their baby in a loving and healthy manner. The babies love being in their wraps because they feel safe and secure right next to their parents body and have a nice high vantage point to look around and get maximum visual and audio stimulation. Which would you prefer being strapped into a rolling cage low to the ground or being right next to your mothers heart in a beautiful sling made out of soft, luxurious organic fibers?
The slings and wraps are also light and highly versatile they can go almost anywhere including tight aisles in clothing stores, crowded outdoor marketplaces, and even up and down stairs with no problem. Imagine getting in and out of your SUV without the hassle of unloading the stroller from the back, putting it together, loading up your child, strapping them in, and then closing up the three doors you had to open to get all that done. With a baby sling, you just slip the sling over your shoulder, gently cradle your child inside the soft fabric, get your handbag and go.
Another reason for the huge popularity of baby wraps today is their unrivaled versatility. You can carry your child facing you up near your chest, down on your hip, facing away from you on your belly like a kangaroo, on your back like a backpack, up high on your shoulder, or even in a nursing position. Think about how convenient it would be if you could nurse your child while shopping with both arms free in your local market? Your baby is warm, secure, and eating lunch all with 100% privacy due to the extra fabric included in his wrap just for this purpose.
If you have not experienced the freedom, comfort, and convenience of a baby wrap you need to order one immediately and put it to use right away. Youll find yourself lugging around a lot less equipment, your back wont hurt at the end of the day from stooping and lifting repeatedly, your baby will sleep and eat more while crying less, and you will look fantastic the entire time while wearing your new designer sling.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Christian Attorneys and Divorce
Nowadays Divorce is becoming a modern concept. It is basically a legal separation by which a husband and wife can dissolve their marriage. The process of divorce can vary from state to state and country to country. In this
process called divorce many fears, feelings and frets are involved. Getting a divorce is not an easy task A number of changes are involved in your relationships, whether it is financial and or emotional. Today there are a
number of divorce lawyers available to give their advice on this issue. Taking some advice on this issue though can help things to go smoother for you and your family.
Once you have made the decision to divorce then it is really very difficult to reverse. At that time you will need to get right type of tips and advice to handle the changes involved and that will follow and the steps you take
during this legal process. There are a number of reasons for this. After getting through the technical procedure called divorce, you will also need to get a glimpse of how life will be after separation. This will really present new
challenges in the area of shared parenting and finances after getting divorce, as a single parent.
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A Christian Attorney may suggest mediation. The easiest and simplest way to get a divorce is to first seek out a mediator. Now this will only work if your partner will agree. Before proceeding with a divorce, you should see if
both of you may settle things in a civil manner, including custody of children and the division of assets fairly. If this is not possible then you may have to find a competent and proficient divorce lawyer in your area. You may ask
other people for recommendations and suggestions on this issue. Your pastor might be a good source for this important ref feral. After this, you may want to follow up by contacting different lawyers before making the final
choice. A divorce lawyer, who is well known and has a good reputation, especially at your local family court, can be a huge asset and may help you a lot.
But this is really very sad situation, that a number of people want only procedural and practical tips on how to go about divorce. A competent Christian divorce attorney will really give you the biblical as well as the necessary
practical advice. You may also want help and assistance on finding out exactly how to handle emotions, how to prepare and manage the kids, and how to pick up the broken pieces and start all over again. In most of the
cases, comprehensive divorce advice can only be provided by a competent divorce attorney working in concert with other professionals such as your pastor, a marriage counselor and perhaps even a finical adviser. Your
attorney may be able to guide you in making decisions as to which kinds of resources will be of assistance in your case.
process called divorce many fears, feelings and frets are involved. Getting a divorce is not an easy task A number of changes are involved in your relationships, whether it is financial and or emotional. Today there are a
number of divorce lawyers available to give their advice on this issue. Taking some advice on this issue though can help things to go smoother for you and your family.
Once you have made the decision to divorce then it is really very difficult to reverse. At that time you will need to get right type of tips and advice to handle the changes involved and that will follow and the steps you take
during this legal process. There are a number of reasons for this. After getting through the technical procedure called divorce, you will also need to get a glimpse of how life will be after separation. This will really present new
challenges in the area of shared parenting and finances after getting divorce, as a single parent.
burberry outlet
chanel 2.55
A Christian Attorney may suggest mediation. The easiest and simplest way to get a divorce is to first seek out a mediator. Now this will only work if your partner will agree. Before proceeding with a divorce, you should see if
both of you may settle things in a civil manner, including custody of children and the division of assets fairly. If this is not possible then you may have to find a competent and proficient divorce lawyer in your area. You may ask
other people for recommendations and suggestions on this issue. Your pastor might be a good source for this important ref feral. After this, you may want to follow up by contacting different lawyers before making the final
choice. A divorce lawyer, who is well known and has a good reputation, especially at your local family court, can be a huge asset and may help you a lot.
But this is really very sad situation, that a number of people want only procedural and practical tips on how to go about divorce. A competent Christian divorce attorney will really give you the biblical as well as the necessary
practical advice. You may also want help and assistance on finding out exactly how to handle emotions, how to prepare and manage the kids, and how to pick up the broken pieces and start all over again. In most of the
cases, comprehensive divorce advice can only be provided by a competent divorce attorney working in concert with other professionals such as your pastor, a marriage counselor and perhaps even a finical adviser. Your
attorney may be able to guide you in making decisions as to which kinds of resources will be of assistance in your case.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Tips on Selecting Human Resource Software Applications
Most Human Resource Information System (HRIS) industry articles are going to tell you that the first step in selecting a Human Resource Software (HRS) is to determine your needs, which is often easier said than done. Until
you have an understanding of what the various Human Resource (HR) products are capable of, it can be difficult to know exactly what you require. Even if you do, your needs are probably going to change as you see "nice
haves" in the products you review. All of this is why we created compareHRIS.com, a user-friendly selection tool and database detailing the features and options of industry-leading HR products. When you take our survey you
will determine which features and options you absolutely require, which might be of interest, and you will weigh the importance of each. Upon completion of the survey you will presented with a list of the HRIS software products
that best meet your particular needs, and from there you may select to receive a free demonstration of any or all of them.
Tips for Comparing Apples to Apples
Now its time to schedule the free demonstration and take the next step in your HRIS selection process. No two demos are going to be the same, so its often difficult to compare the various systems. This is where I suggest
taking charge of the demo presentation; if you want to compare apples to apples, you need to make sure you see the apples do the same thing (I call this "standardizing" the demo). Ask the presenter to run you through a few
standard processes during each. For example, a walk-through the steps to hiring a new employee, to terminating an employee, to running a turnover report, or to setting up a medical benefit plan. Grade each product on how
well or how poorly they handle each of these functions. If there are specific reports that you must have, make sure to request a demonstration of how those reports are created.
HRIS Support
Just as you standardized the sales demonstrations, you should also standardize how you view the support for each company. Ask about hours, response times, costs, product improvement updates, and government
compliance updates. Are all updates included with the annual support? I would also ask what happens if you uncover an actual bug in the system. What are the steps to resolving such a software problem? The sales person
may tell you the system is bug-free, but dont believe it; make sure they have a system through which you can report problems.
Making Sure the Person Responsible for Your HRIS Implementation is Qualified
In our archive you will find an article called "Who Will Perform Your HRIS Implementation is as Important as the Software You Select". Its full of tips on selecting the best team to implement your HRIS solution. In brief, make
sure the person who will be performing your implementation has the experience needed to complete a clean install. Being certified is not the same thing as being experienced; I would make sure they have had at least 10
implementations under their belt of the same systems you are purchasing, and with companies which are similar in size to your own.
Why Number of Installs and Size of the HRIS Software Company are Important
We included the number of installs of our participating HRIS software vendors for a reason: Its important. As I said before, no software application is going to be 100% free of bugs. But the more installs they have and the
longer they have been in business provides a greater opportunity to correct as many issues as possible. And the size of an HR software company can offer helpful insight as to the stability of the company. Generally speaking,
the more employees a company has and the longer theyve had their products on the market, the cleaner their applications will be.
you have an understanding of what the various Human Resource (HR) products are capable of, it can be difficult to know exactly what you require. Even if you do, your needs are probably going to change as you see "nice
haves" in the products you review. All of this is why we created compareHRIS.com, a user-friendly selection tool and database detailing the features and options of industry-leading HR products. When you take our survey you
will determine which features and options you absolutely require, which might be of interest, and you will weigh the importance of each. Upon completion of the survey you will presented with a list of the HRIS software products
that best meet your particular needs, and from there you may select to receive a free demonstration of any or all of them.
Tips for Comparing Apples to Apples
Now its time to schedule the free demonstration and take the next step in your HRIS selection process. No two demos are going to be the same, so its often difficult to compare the various systems. This is where I suggest
taking charge of the demo presentation; if you want to compare apples to apples, you need to make sure you see the apples do the same thing (I call this "standardizing" the demo). Ask the presenter to run you through a few
standard processes during each. For example, a walk-through the steps to hiring a new employee, to terminating an employee, to running a turnover report, or to setting up a medical benefit plan. Grade each product on how
well or how poorly they handle each of these functions. If there are specific reports that you must have, make sure to request a demonstration of how those reports are created.
HRIS Support
Just as you standardized the sales demonstrations, you should also standardize how you view the support for each company. Ask about hours, response times, costs, product improvement updates, and government
compliance updates. Are all updates included with the annual support? I would also ask what happens if you uncover an actual bug in the system. What are the steps to resolving such a software problem? The sales person
may tell you the system is bug-free, but dont believe it; make sure they have a system through which you can report problems.
Making Sure the Person Responsible for Your HRIS Implementation is Qualified
In our archive you will find an article called "Who Will Perform Your HRIS Implementation is as Important as the Software You Select". Its full of tips on selecting the best team to implement your HRIS solution. In brief, make
sure the person who will be performing your implementation has the experience needed to complete a clean install. Being certified is not the same thing as being experienced; I would make sure they have had at least 10
implementations under their belt of the same systems you are purchasing, and with companies which are similar in size to your own.
Why Number of Installs and Size of the HRIS Software Company are Important
We included the number of installs of our participating HRIS software vendors for a reason: Its important. As I said before, no software application is going to be 100% free of bugs. But the more installs they have and the
longer they have been in business provides a greater opportunity to correct as many issues as possible. And the size of an HR software company can offer helpful insight as to the stability of the company. Generally speaking,
the more employees a company has and the longer theyve had their products on the market, the cleaner their applications will be.
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