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Oh, for heavens sake, Harry, you can do better than her, said Hermione. Ginnys told me all about her, apparently shell only believe in things as long as theres no proof at all. Well, I wouldnt expect anything else from someone whose father runs The Quibbler. Harry thought of the sinister winged horses he had seen on the night he had arrived and how Luna had said she could see them too. His spirits sank slightly. Had she been lying. But before he could devote much more thought to the matter, Ernie Macmillan had stepped up to him. I want you to know, Potter, he said in a loud, carrying voice, that its not only weirdos who support you. I personally believe you one hundred percent. My family have always stood firm behind Dumbledore, and so do I. Er - thanks very much, Ernie, said Harry, taken aback but pleased. Ernie might be pompous on occasions like these, but Harry was in a mood to deeply appreciate a vote of confidence from somebody who was not wearing radishes in their ears. Ernies words had certainly wiped the smile just click for source Lavender Browns face and, as he turned to talk to Ron and Hermione, Harry caught Seamuss expression, which looked both confused and defiant. To nobodys surprise, Professor Sprout started their lesson by lecturing them about the importance of O. Harry wished all the teachers would stop doing this; he was starting to get an anxious, twisted feeling in his stomach every time he remembered how much homework he had to do, a feeling that worsened dramatically when Professor Sprout gave them yet another essay at the end of class. Tired and smelling strongly of dragon dung, Professor Sprouts preferred brand of fertilizer, the Gryffindors trooped back up to the castle, none of them talking very much; it had been another long day. As Harry was starving, and he had his first detention with Umbridge at five oclock, he headed straight for dinner without dropping off his bag in Gryffindor Tower so that he could bolt something down before facing whatever she had in store for him. He had barely reached the entrance of the Great Hall, however, when a loud and angry voice said, Oy, Potter. What now. he muttered wearily, turning to face Angelina Johnson, who looked as though she was in a towering temper. Ill tell you what now, she said, marching straight up to him and poking him hard in the chest with her finger. How come youve landed yourself in detention for five oclock on Friday. What. said Harry. Why. oh yeah, Keeper tryouts. Now he remembers. snarled Angelina. Didnt I tell you I wanted to do a tryout with the whole team, and find someone who fitted in with everyone. Didnt I tell android 1 com of Id booked the Quidditch pitch specially. And now youve decided youre not going to be there. I didnt decide not to be there. said Harry, stung by the injustice of these words. I got detention from that Umbridge woman, just because I told her the truth about You-Know-Who - Well, you can just go straight to her and ask her to let you off on Friday, said Angelina fiercely, and I dont care how you do it, tell her You-KnowWhos a figment of your imagination if you like, just make sure youre there. She stormed away. You know what. Harry said to Ron and Hermione as they entered the Great Hall. I think wed better check with Puddlemere United whether Oliver Woods been killed during a training session, because she seems to be channeling his spirit. What dyou reckon are the odds of Umbridge letting you off on Friday. said Ron skeptically, as they sat down at the Gryffindor table. Less than zero, said Harry glumly, tipping lamb chops onto his plate and starting to eat. Better try, though, hadnt I. Ill offer to do two more detentions or something, I dunno. He swallowed a mouthful of potato and added, I hope she doesnt keep me too long this evening. You realize weve got to write three essays, practice Vanishing Spells for McGonagall, work out a countercharm for Flitwick, finish the bowtruckle drawing, and start that stupid dream diary for Trelawney. Ron moaned and for some reason glanced up at the ceiling. And it looks like its going to rain. Whats that got to do with our homework. said Hermione, her eyebrows raised. Nothing, said Ron at once, his ears reddening. At five to five Harry bade the other two good-bye and set off for Umbridges office on the third floor. When he knocked on the door she said, Come in, in a sugary voice. He entered cautiously, looking around. He had known this office under three of its previous occupants. In the days when Gilderoy Lockhart had lived here it had been plastered in beaming portraits of its owner. When Lupin had occupied it, it was likely you would meet some fascinating Dark creature in a cage or tank if you came to call. In the impostor Moodys days it had been packed with various instruments and artifacts for the detection of wrongdoing and concealment. Now, however, it looked totally unrecognizable. The surfaces had all been draped in lacy covers and cloths. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each residing on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large Technicolored kitten wearing a different bow around its neck. These were so foul that Harry stared at them, transfixed, until Professor Umbridge spoke again. Good evening, Mr. Potter. Harry started and looked around. He had not noticed her at first because she was wearing a luridly flowered set of robes that blended only too well with the tablecloth on the desk behind her. Evening, Harry said stiffly. Well, sit down, she said, pointing toward a small table draped in lace beside which she had drawn up a straight-backed chair. A piece of blank parchment lay on the table, apparently waiting for him. Er, said Harry, without moving. Professor Umbridge. Er - before we start, I-I wanted to ask you a. a favor. Her bulging eyes narrowed. Oh yes. More info Im. Im on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. And I was supposed to be at the tryouts for the new Keeper at five oclock on Friday and I was - was wondering whether I could skip detention that night and do it - do it another night. instead. He knew long before he reached the end of his sentence that it was no good. Oh no, said Umbridge, smiling so widely that she looked as though she had just swallowed a particularly juicy fly. Oh no, no, no. This is your punishment for spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories, Mr. Potter, and punishments certainly cannot be adjusted to suit the guilty ones convenience. No, you will come words. pubg pc update today very at five oclock tomorrow, and the next day, and on Friday too, and you will do your detentions as planned. I think it rather a good thing that you are missing something you really want to do. It ought to reinforce the lesson I am trying to teach you. Harry felt the blood surge to his head and heard a thumping noise in his ears. So he told evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories, did he. She was watching him with her head slightly to one side, still smiling widely, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking and was waiting to see whether he would start shouting again. With a massive effort Harry looked away from her, dropped his schoolbag beside the straight-backed chair, and sat down. There, said Umbridge sweetly, were getting better at controlling our temper already, arent we. Now, you are going to be doing some lines for me, Mr. Potter. No, not with your quill, she added, as Harry bent down to open his bag. Youre going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here apex codes july are. She handed him a long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point. I want you to write I must not tell lies, she told him softly. How many times. Harry asked, with a creditable imitation of politeness. Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in, said Umbridge sweetly. Off you go. She moved over to her desk, sat down, and bent over a stack of parchment that looked like essays for marking. Harry raised the sharp black quill and then realized what was missing. You havent given me any ink, he said. Oh, you wont need ink, said Professor Umbridge with the merest suggestion of a laugh in her voice. Harry placed the point of the quill on the paper and wrote: I must not tell lies. He let out a gasp of pain. The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of Harrys right hand, cut into his skin as though traced there by a scalpel - yet even as he stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth. Harry looked around at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile. Yes. Nothing, said Harry quietly. He looked back at the parchment, placed the quill upon it once more, wrote I must not tell lies, and felt the searing pain on the back of his hand for a second time; once again the words had been cut into his skin, once again they healed over seconds later. And on it went. Again and again Harry wrote the words on the parchment in what he soon came to realize was not ink, but his own blood. And again and again the words were cut into the back of his hand, healed, and then reappeared the next time he set quill to parchment. Darkness fell outside Umbridges window. Harry did not ask when he would be allowed to stop. He did not even check his watch. He knew she was watching him for signs of weakness and he was not going to show any, not even if he had to sit here all night, cutting open his own hand with this quill. Come here, she said, after what seemed hours. He stood up. His hand was stinging painfully. When he looked down at it he saw that the cut had healed, but that the skin there was red raw. Hand, she said. He extended it. She took it in her own. Harry repressed a shudder as she touched him with her thick, stubby скачать игру counter бесплатно on which she wore a number of ugly old rings. Tut, tut, I dont seem to have made much of an impression yet, she said, smiling. Well, well just have to try again tomorrow evening, wont we. You Pubg background wallpaper for desktop go. Harry left her office without a word. The school was quite deserted; it was surely past midnight. He walked slowly up the corridor then, when he had turned the corner and was sure that she would not hear him, broke into a run. He had not had time to practice Vanishing Spells, had not written a single dream in his dream diary, and had not finished the drawing of the bowtruckle, nor had he written his essays. He skipped breakfast next morning to scribble down a couple of made-up dreams for Divination, their first lesson, and was surprised to find a disheveled Ron keeping him company. How come you didnt do it last night. Harry asked, as Ron stared wildly around the common room for inspiration. Ron, who had been fast asleep when Harry got back to the dormitory, muttered something about doing other stuff, bent low over his parchment, and scrawled a few words. Thatll have to do, he said, slamming the diary shut, Ive said I dreamed I was buying a new pair of shoes, she cant make anything weird out of that, can she. They hurried off to North Tower together. How was detention with Umbridge, anyway. What did she make you do. Harry hesitated for a fraction of a second, then said, Lines. Thats not too bad, then, eh. said Ron. Nope, said Harry. Hey - I forgot - did she let you off for Friday. No, said Harry. Ron groaned sympathetically. It was another bad day for Harry; he was one of the worst in Transfiguration, not having practiced Vanishing Spells at all. He had to give up his lunch hour to complete the picture of the bowtruckle, and meanwhile, Professors McGonagall, Grubbly-Plank, and Sinistra gave them yet more homework, which he had no prospect of finishing that evening because of his second detention with Umbridge. To cap it all, Angelina Johnson tracked him down at dinner again and, on learning that he would not be able to attend Fridays Keeper tryouts, told him she was not at all impressed by his attitude and that she expected players who wished to remain on the team to put training before their other commitments. Im in detention. Harry yelled after her as she stalked away. Dyou think Id rather be stuck in a room with that old toad or playing Quidditch. At least its only lines, said Hermione consolingly, as Harry sank back onto his bench and looked down at his steak-and-kidney pie, which he no longer fancied very much. Its not as if its a dreadful punishment, really. Harry opened his mouth, closed it again, and nodded. He was not really sure why he was not telling Ron and Hermione exactly what was happening in Umbridges room: He only knew that he did not want to see their looks of horror; that would make the whole thing seem worse and therefore more difficult to face. He also felt dimly that this was between himself and Umbridge, a private battle of wills, and he was not going to give her the satisfaction of hearing that he had complained about it. I cant believe how much homework weve got, said Ron miserably. Well, why didnt you do any last night. Hermione asked him. Where were you anyway. I was. I fancied a walk, said Ron shiftily. Harry had the distinct impression that he was not alone in concealing things at the moment. The second detention was just as bad as the previous one. The skin on the back of Harrys hand became irritated more quickly now, red and inflamed; Harry thought it unlikely to keep healing as effectively for long. Soon the cut would remain etched in his hand and Umbridge would, perhaps, be satisfied. He let no moan of pain escape him, however, and from the moment of entering the room to the moment of his dismissal, again past midnight, he said nothing but Good evening and Good night. His homework situation, however, was now desperate, and when he returned to the Gryffindor common room he did not, though exhausted, go to bed, but opened his books and began Snapes moonstone essay. It was halfpast two by the time he had finished it. He knew he had done a poor job, but there was no help for it; unless he had something to give in he would be in detention with Snape next. He then dashed off answers to the questions Professor McGonagall had set them, cobbled together something on the proper handling of bowtruckles for Professor Grubbly-Plank, and staggered up to bed, where he fell fully clothed on top of the bed covers and fell asleep immediately. Thursday passed in a haze of tiredness. Ron seemed very sleepy too, though Harry could not see why he should be. Harrys third detention passed in the same way as the previous two, except that after two hours the words I must not tell lies did not fade from the back of Harrys hand, but remained scratched there, oozing droplets of blood. The pause in the pointed quills scratching made Professor Umbridge look up. Ah, she said softly, moving around her desk to examine his hand herself. Good. That ought to serve as a reminder to you, oughtnt it. You may leave for tonight. Do I still have to come back tomorrow. said Harry, picking up his schoolbag with his left hand rather than his smarting right. Oh yes, said Professor Umbridge, smiling widely as before. Yes, I think we can etch the message a little deeper with another evenings work. He had never before considered the possibility that there might be another teacher in the world he hated more than Pubg background wallpaper for desktop, but as he walked back toward Gryffindor Tower he had to admit he had found a contender. Shes evil, he thought, as he climbed a staircase to the seventh floor, shes an evil, twisted, mad, old - Ron. He had reached the top of the stairs, turned right, and almost walked into Ron, who was lurking behind a statue of Lachlan the Lanky, clutching his broomstick. He gave a great leap of surprise when he saw Harry and attempted to hide his new Cleansweep Eleven behind his back. What are you doing. Er - nothing. What are you doing. Harry frowned at him. Come on, you can tell me. What are you hiding here for. Im - Im hiding from Fred and George, if you must know, said Ron. They just went past with a bunch of first years, I bet theyre testing stuff on them again, I mean, they cant do it in the common room now, can they, not with Hermione there. He was talking in a very fast, feverish way. But what have you got your broom for, you havent been flying, have you. Harry asked. I - well - well, okay, Ill tell you, but dont laugh, all right. Ron said defensively, turning redder with every second. I-I thought Id try out for Gryffindor Keeper now Ive got a decent broom. There. Go on. Laugh. Im not laughing, said Harry. Ron blinked. Its a brilliant idea. Itd be really cool if you got on the team. Ive never seen you play Keeper, are you good. Im not bad, said Ron, who looked immensely relieved at Harrys reaction. Charlie, Fred, and George always made me Keep for them when they were training during the holidays. So youve been practicing tonight. Every evening since Tuesday. just on my own, though, Ive been trying to bewitch Quaffles to fly at me, but it read article been easy and I dont know how much use itll be. Ron looked nervous and anxious. Fred and George are going to laugh themselves stupid when I turn up for the tryouts. They havent stopped taking the mickey out of me since I got made a prefect. I wish I was going to be there, said Harry bitterly, as they set off together toward the common room. Yeah, so do - Harry, whats that on the back of your hand. Harry, who had just scratched his nose with his free right hand, tried to hide it, but had as much success as Ron with his Cleansweep. Its just a cut - its nothing - its - But Ron had grabbed Harrys forearm and pulled the back of Harrys hand up level with his eyes. There was a pause, during which he stared at the words carved into the skin, then he released Harry, looking sick.
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