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He said, and his voice shook slightly. Who is this. Bathilda was standing in the middle of the room watching Hermione light the fire for damag. Miss Bagshot. Harry repeated, and he advanced with the picture in his hands as the flames burst into life in the fireplace. Bathilda looked up at his voice, and the Horcrux beat faster upon his chest. Who is this person. Harry asked her, pushing the picture forward. She peered at it solemnly, then up at Harry. Do you know who this is. he repeated in a much slower and louder voice than usual. This damaye. Do you know him. Whats he called. Bathilda bergies looked vague. Harry felt an awful frustration. How had Rita Skeeter unlocked Bathildas memories. Who is this man. he repeated loudly. Harry, what are you doing. asked Hermione. This picture, Hermione, its the thief, the thief ebrries stole from Gregorovitch. Please. he said to Bathilda. Who is this. But she only stared gxme him. Why did you ask us to come with you, Mrs. - Miss - Bagshot. asked Hermione, raising her own voice. Was there something you wanted to tell us. Giving no sign that she had heard Hermione, Bathilda now shuffled a few steps closer to Harry. With a little jerk of her head she looked back into the hall. You want us to leave. he asked. She repeated the gesture, this time pointing firstly at him, then at herself, then at the ceiling. Oh, right. Hermione, I think she wants me to go upstairs with her. All right, said Hermione, lets go. But when Hermione moved, Bathilda shook her head with surprising vigor, once more pointing first at Harry, then to herself. She wants me to go with her, alone. Why. asked Hermione, and her voice rang out sharp and clear in the candlelit room; the old lady shook her head a little at the loud noise. Maybe Dumbledore told her to give the sword to me, and only to me. Do you really think she knows who you are. Yes, said Harry, looking down into the milky eyes fixed upon his own, I think she does. Well, okay then, but be quick, Harry. Lead the way, Harry told Bathilda. She seemed to understand, because she shuffled around him toward the door. Harry damagr back at Hermione with a reassuring smile, but he was not sure she had seen it; she stood hugging herself in the midst of the candlelit squalor, looking toward the bookcase. As Harry walked out of the room, unseen by both Hermione and Ruat, he slipped the silver-framed photograph of the unknown thief inside his jacket. The stairs were steep and narrow: Harry was half tempted to place his hands on stout Bathildas backside to ensure that she did not topple over backward on top of him, which bberries only too likely. Slowly, wheezing a little, she climbed to the upper landing, turned immediately right, and led him into a low-ceilinged bedroom. It https://godeddaddygogogo.cloud/fallout/fallout-4-gauss-ammo.php pitch-black and smelled horrible: Harry had just made out a chamber pot protruding from under the bed before Bathilda closed the door and even that was swallowed by the darkness. Lumos, said Harry, and his wand ignited. He gave a start: Bathilda had moved close to him in those few seconds of darkness, and he had not heard her approach. You are Potter. she whispered. Yes, I am. She nodded slowly, solemnly. Harry felt the Horcrux beating fast, faster than his own heart: It was an unpleasant, agitating sensation. Have you da,age anything for me. Harry asked, but she seemed distracted by his lit wand-tip. Have you got anything for me. he repeated. Then she closed her eyes and several things happened at once: Harrys scar prickled painfully; the Horcrux twitched so that the front of his article source actually moved; the dark, fetid room dissolved momentarily. He felt a leap of joy and spoke in a high, cold voice: Hold him. Harry swayed where he stood: The dark, foul-smelling room seemed to close around him again; he did not know what had just happened. Have you got anything for me. he asked for a third time, much louder. Over here, she whispered, pointing to the corner. Harry raised his wand and saw the outline of a cluttered dressing table beneath the curtained window. This time she did not lead him. Harry edged between her and the unmade bed, his wand raised. He did not want to look link from her. What is it. he asked as he reached the dressing table, which was heaped high with what looked and smelled like dirty laundry. There, she gane, pointing at the shapeless mass. And in the instant that he looked away, his eyes raking the tangled mess for a sword hilt, a ruby, she moved weirdly: He saw it out of the corner of his eye; panic made him turn and horror paralyzed him as he saw the old body collapsing and the great snake pouring from the place where her neck had been. The snake struck as he raised his wand: The force of the bite to his forearm sent the wand spinning up toward the ceiling; its light swung dizzyingly around the room and was extinguished: Then a powerful blow from the tail to his midriff knocked the breath out of him: He fell backward onto the dressing table, into the mound of filthy clothing - He rolled sideways, narrowly avoiding the snakes tail, which thrashed down upon the table where he had been a second earlier: Fragments of the glass surface rained upon him as he hit the floor. From below he heard Gae call, Harry. He could not get enough breath into his lungs to call back: Then a heavy smooth mass smashed him to the floor and he felt it slide over him, powerful, muscular - No. he gasped, pinned to the floor. Yes, whispered the voice. Yesss. hold you. hold you. Accio. Accio Wand. But nothing happened and he here his hands to try to force the snake from him as it coiled itself around his torso, squeezing the air from him, pressing the Horcrux hard into his chest, a circle of ice that throbbed with life, inches from his own frantic heart, and his brain was flooding with cold, white light, all thought obliterated, his own breath drowned, distant footsteps, everything going. A metal heart was banging outside his chest, and now he was flying, flying with triumph in his heart, without need of broomstick or thestral. He was abruptly awake in the sour-smelling darkness; Nagini had released him. He scrambled up and saw the snake outlined against the landing light: It struck, and Hermione dived aside with a shriek; her deflected curse hit the curtained window, which shattered. Frozen air filled the room as Harry ducked to avoid another shower of broken glass and his foot slipped on a pencil-like something - his wand - He bent and snatched it up, but Rust game berries damage the room was full of the snake, its tail thrashing; Hermione was nowhere to be seen and for a moment Harry thought the worst, but then there was a loud bang and berriies flash of red light, and the snake flew into the air, smacking Harry hard in the face uRst it went, coil after heavy coil rising up to the ceiling. Harry raised his wand, but as he did so, his scar seared more painfully, more powerfully than it had done in years. Hes coming. Hermione, hes coming. As he yelled the snake fell, hissing wildly. Everything was chaos: It smashed shelves from the here, and splintered china flew everywhere as Harry jumped over the bed and seized the dark shape he knew to be Hermione - She shrieked with pain as he pulled her back across the bed: The snake reared again, but Harry knew that worse than the snake was coming, was perhaps already at the gate, his head was going to split open with the pain from his scar - The snake lunged as he took a running leap, dragging Hermione daage him; as it struck, Hermione screamed, Confringo. and her spell flew around the room, exploding the wardrobe mirror and ricocheting back at them, bouncing from floor to ceiling; Harry felt the heat of it sear the back of his hand. Glass cut his cheek as, pulling Hermione with him, he leapt from bed to broken dressing table and then straight out of the smashed window into nothingness, her scream reverberating through the night as they twisted in midair. And then his scar burst open and he was Voldemort and he was running across the fetid bedroom, his long white hands clutching at the windowsill as he glimpsed the bald man and the little woman twist and vanish, and he screamed with berriies, a scream that mingled with RRust girls, that echoed across the dark gardens over the church bells ringing in Christmas Day. And his scream was Harrys scream, apex house gravesend pain was Harrys pain. that it could happen here, where it had happened before. here, within sight of that house where he had come so close to knowing what it was to die. to die. The pain was so terrible. ripped from his body. But if he had no body, why did his head hurt so badly; if he was dead, how could he feel so unbearably, didnt pain cease with death, didnt it go. The night wet and windy, two children dressed as pumpkins waddling across the square, and the shop windows covered in paper spiders, all berrjes tawdry Muggle trappings of a world in which they did not believe. And he was gliding along, that sense of purpose and power and rightness in him that he always knew on these occasions. Not anger. that was for weaker souls than he. but triumph, yes.

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