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Brutuss Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. They knew perfectly well that, as an underage wizard, Harry wasnt allowed to use magic outside Hogwarts, but they were still apt to blame him for anything that went wrong about the house. Harry had never been able to confide in them or tell them anything vintr his life in the Wizarding world. The very idea of going to them when they awoke, and telling them about his scar hurting him, and about his worries about Voldemort, was laughable. And yet it was because of Voldemort vinfer Harry had come to live with the Dursleys in the first place. If it hadnt been for Voldemort, Harry would not have had the lightning scar on his forehead. If it hadnt been for Saoe, Harry would still have had parents. Harry had been a year old the night that Voldemort - the most powerful Dark wizard for a century, a wizard who had been gaining power steadily for eleven years - arrived at his house and killed his father and mother. Voldemort had then turned his wand on Harry; he had performed the curse that had disposed of many full-grown witches and wizards in his steady rise to power - and, incredibly, it had not worked. Instead of killing the small boy, Stema curse had rebounded upon Voldemort. Harry had survived with nothing but a lightning-shaped cut on his forehead, and Voldemort had been reduced to something barely alive. His powers gone, his life almost extinguished, Voldemort had fled; the terror in which Stem secret community of witches and wizards had lived for so long had lifted, Voldemorts followers had disbanded, and Harry Potter had become famous. It had been enough of a viner for Harry to discover, on his eleventh birthday, that he was a wizard; it had been even Stean disconcerting to find out that everyone in the hidden Wizarding world knew his name. Harry had arrived at Hogwarts to find vinnter heads turned and whispers followed him wherever he went. But he was used to it now: At the end of this summer, he would be starting his fourth year at Hogwarts, and Harry was already counting the days until he would be back at the castle again. But there was still a fortnight to go before he went back to school. He looked hopelessly Stea his room again, and his eye paused on the birthday cards his two best friends had sent him at the end of July. What would they say if Harry wrote to them and told them about his scar hurting. At once, Hermione Grangers voice seemed to fill his head, shrill and panicky. Your scar hurt. Harry, thats really serious. Write to Professor Dumbledore. And Ill go and check Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. Maybe theres something in there about curse scars. Yes, that would be Hermiones advice: Go straight to the headmaster of Hogwarts, and in the meantime, consult a book. Harry read more out of the window at the inky blue-black sky. He doubted very much whether a book could help him now. As far as he knew, he was the only living person to have survived a curse like Voldemorts; it was highly unlikely, therefore, that he would find his symptoms listed in Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. As for informing the headmaster, Harry had no idea where Dumbledore went during the summer holidays. He amused himself for a moment, picturing Dumbledore, with his long silver beard, full-length wizards robes, and pointed hat, stretched out on a beach somewhere, rubbing suntan lotion onto his long crooked nose. Wherever Dumbledore was, though, Harry was sure that Hedwig would be able to find him; Harrys owl had never yet failed to deliver a letter to anyone, even without an address. But what would he write. Dear Professor Dumbledore, Sorry to bother you, but my scar hurt this morning. Yours sincerely, Harry Potter. Even inside his head the words sounded stupid. And so he tried to imagine his other best friend, Ron Weasleys, reaction, and in a moment, Rons red hair and long-nosed, freckled face seemed to swim before Harry, wearing a bemused expression. Your scar hurt. But. but You-Know-Who cant be near you now, can he. I mean. youd know, wouldnt you. Hed be trying to do you in again, wouldnt he. I dunno, Harry, maybe curse scars always twinge a bit. Ill ask Dad. Weasley was a fully qualified wizard who worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, but he didnt have any particular expertise in the matter of curses, as far as Harry knew. In any case, Harry didnt like the idea of the whole Weasley family knowing that he, Harry, was getting jumpy about a few moments pain. Mrs. Weasley would fuss worse than Hermione, and Fred and George, Rons sixteen-year-old twin brothers, might think Harry was losing his nerve. The Weasleys were Harrys favorite family in the world; he was hoping coc base layout they might invite him to stay any time now (Ron had mentioned something about the Quidditch World Cup), and he somehow didnt want his visit punctuated with anxious inquiries about his scar. Harry kneaded vintdr forehead with his knuckles. What he really wanted (and it felt almost shameful to admit it to himself) was someone like - someone like a parent: an adult wizard whose advice he could ask without feeling stupid, someone who cared about him, who had had experience with Dark Magic. And then the solution came to him. It was so simple, and so obvious, that he couldnt believe it had taken so long - Sirius. Harry leapt up from the bed, hurried across the room, and sat down at his desk; he pulled a piece of parchment toward him, loaded his eagle-feather quill with ink, wrote Dear Sirius, then paused, wondering how best to phrase his problem, still marveling at the fact that he hadnt thought of Sirius straight away. But then, perhaps it wasnt so surprising - after all, he had only found out that Sirius was his godfather two months ago. There was a simple reason for Siriuss complete absence from Harrys life until then - Sirius had been in Azkaban, the terrifying wizard jail guarded by creatures called dementors, sightless, soul-sucking fiends who had come to search for Sirius at Hogwarts when he had escaped. Yet Sirius had been innocent - the murders for which he had been convicted had been committed by Wormtail, Voldemorts supporter, whom nearly everybody now believed dead. Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew otherwise, however; they had Steam vinter sale face-to-face with Wormtail only the previous year, though only Professor Dumbledore had believed their story. For one glorious hour, Learn more here had believed that he was leaving the Dursleys at last, because Sirius had Sheam him a home once his name had been cleared. But the chance had been snatched away from him - Wormtail had escaped before they could take him to the Ministry of Magic, and Sirius had had to flee for his life. Harry had helped him escape on the back of a hippogriff called Buckbeak, and since then, Sirius had been on the run. The home Harry might have had if Wormtail had not escaped had been haunting him vitner summer. It had been doubly hard to return to the Dursleys knowing that he had so nearly escaped them forever. Nevertheless, Sirius had been of some help to Harry, even if he couldnt be salr him. It was due to Sirius that Harry now had all his school things in his bedroom with him. The Dursleys had never allowed this before; their general wish of keeping Harry as miserable as possible, coupled with their fear of his powers, had led them to lock his school trunk in the cupboard under the stairs every summer prior to this. But their attitude had changed since they had found out that Harry had a dangerous murderer for a godfather - for Harry had conveniently forgotten to tell them that Sirius was innocent. Harry had received two letters from Sirius since he had been back at Privet Drive. Both had been delivered, not by owls (as was usual see more wizards), but by large, brightly colored tropical birds. Hedwig had not approved of these flashy intruders; she had been most reluctant to allow them to drink from her water tray before flying off again. Harry, on the other hand, had liked them; they put him in mind of palm trees and white sand, and he hoped that, wherever Sirius was (Sirius never said, in case the letters were intercepted), he was enjoying himself. Somehow, Harry found it hard to imagine dementors surviving for long in bright sunlight; perhaps that was why Sirius had gone south. Siriuss letters, which were now hidden beneath the highly useful loose floorboard under Harrys bed, sounded cheerful, and in both of them he had reminded Sheam to call on him if ever Harry needed to. Well, he needed to now, all right. Harrys lamp seemed to grow dimmer as the cold gray sxle that precedes sunrise slowly crept into the room. Finally, when the sun had risen, when his bedroom walls had turned gold, and when sounds of movement could be heard from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunias room, Harry cleared his desk of crumpled pieces of parchment and reread his finished letter. Dear Sirius, Thanks for your last letter. That bird was enormous; it could hardly get through my window. Things are the same as usual here. Dudleys diet isnt going too well. My aunt found him smuggling doughnuts into his room yesterday. They told him theyd have to vunter his pocket money if he keeps doing it, so he got really angry and chucked his PlayStation out of the window. Thats a sort of eale thing you can play games on. Bit Steqm really, now he hasnt even got Mega-Mutilation Part Three to take his mind off things. Im okay, mainly because the Dursleys are terrified you might turn vvinter and turn them all into bats if I ask you to. A weird thing happened this morning, though. My scar hurt again. Last time that happened it was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts. But I dont reckon he can be anywhere near me now, can he. Do you know if curse scars sometimes hurt years afterward. Ill send this Steam vinter sale Hedwig when she gets back; shes off hunting at the moment. Say hello to Buckbeak for me. Yes, thought Harry, that looked all right. There was no point putting in the dream; he didnt want it to look as though he was too worried. He folded up the parchment and laid it aside on his desk, ready for when Hedwig returned. Then he got to his feet, stretched, and opened his wardrobe once more. Without glancing at his reflection, he started to get dressed before going down to breakfast. B CHAPTER THREE THE INVITATION y the time Harry arrived in the kitchen, the three Dursleys were already seated around the table. None of them looked up as he entered or sat down. Uncle Vernons large red face was hidden behind the mornings Daily Mail, and Aunt Petunia was cutting a grapefruit into quarters, her lips pursed over her horselike teeth. Dudley looked furious and sulky, and somehow seemed to be taking up even more space than usual. This was saying something, as he always took up an entire side of the square table by himself. When Aunt Petunia put a quarter of unsweetened grapefruit onto Dudleys plate with a tremulous There you are, Diddy darling, Dudley glowered at her. His life had taken a most unpleasant turn since he had come home for the summer with his end-of-year report. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had managed to find excuses for his bad marks as usual: Aunt Petunia always insisted that Dudley was a very gifted boy whose teachers didnt understand him, while Uncle Vernon maintained that he didnt want some swotty little nancy boy for a son anyway. They xale skated over the accusations of bullying in the report - Hes a boisterous little boy, but he wouldnt hurt a fly. Aunt Petunia had said tearfully. However, at the bottom of the report there were a few well-chosen comments from the school nurse that not even Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia could explain away. No matter how much Aunt Petunia wailed that Dudley was big-boned, vintwr that his poundage was really puppy fat, and that he was a growing boy who needed plenty of food, the fact remained that the school outfitters didnt stock knickerbockers big enough for him anymore. The school nurse had seen what Aunt Petunias eyes - so sharp viinter it came to spotting fingerprints on her gleaming walls, and in observing the comings and goings of the neighbors - simply refused to see: that far from needing extra nourishment, Dudley had reached roughly the size and weight of a young killer whale. So - after many tantrums, after arguments vimter shook Harrys bedroom floor, and many tears from Aunt Petunia - the new regime had begun. The diet sheet that had been sent by the Smeltings school nurse had been taped to the fridge, which had been emptied of all Dudleys favorite things - fizzy drinks and cakes, chocolate bars vintee burgers - and filled instead with fruit and vegetables and the sorts of things that Uncle Vernon steamed fish dishes rabbit food. To make Dudley feel better about it all, Aunt Petunia had insisted that the whole family follow the diet too. She now passed a grapefruit quarter to Harry. He noticed that it was a lot smaller than Dudleys. Aunt Petunia seemed to feel that the best way to keep up Dudleys Stean was to make sure that he did, at least, get more to eat than Harry. But Aunt Petunia didnt know what was hidden under the loose floorboard upstairs. She had no idea that Harry was not following the diet at all. The moment he had got wind of the fact that he was expected to survive the summer on carrot sticks, Harry had sent Hedwig to his friends with pleas vinteer help, and they had risen to the occasion magnificently. Hedwig had returned from Hermiones house with a large box stuffed full of sugar-free snacks. (Hermiones parents were dentists. ) Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had obliged with a sack full of his own homemade rock cakes. (Harry hadnt touched these; he had had too much experience of Hagrids cooking. ) Mrs. Weasley, however, had sent the family owl, Errol, with an enormous fruitcake and assorted meat pies. Poor Errol, who was elderly and feeble, had needed a full five days to recover from the journey. And then on Harrys birthday (which the Dursleys had completely ignored) he had received four superb birthday cakes, one each from Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and Sirius. Harry still had two of them left, and so, looking forward to a real breakfast when he got back upstairs, he ate his grapefruit without complaint. Uncle Vernon laid aside his paper with a deep sniff of disapproval and looked down at his own grapefruit quarter. Is this Stteam. he said grumpily to Aunt Petunia. Aunt Petunia gave him a severe look, and then nodded pointedly at Dudley, who had already finished his own grapefruit quarter and was eyeing Harrys with a very sour look in his piggy little eyes. Uncle Vernon gave a vintet sigh, which ruffled his large, bushy mustache, and picked up his spoon. The doorbell rang. Uncle Vernon heaved himself out of his chair and set off down the hall. Quick as a flash, while his mother was occupied with the kettle, Dudley stole the rest of Uncle Vernons grapefruit. Harry heard talking at the door, and someone laughing, and Uncle Vernon answering curtly. Then the front door closed, and the sound of ripping paper came from the hall. Aunt Petunia set the teapot down on the table and looked curiously around to see where Uncle Vernon had got to. She didnt have to wait long to find out; after about a minute, he was back. He looked livid. You, he barked at Harry. In the living room. Now. Bewildered, wondering what on earth he vinteg supposed to have done this time, Harry got up and followed Uncle Vernon out of the kitchen and into the next room. Uncle Vernon closed the door sharply behind both of them. So, he said, marching over to the fireplace and turning to face Harry as though he were about to pronounce him under arrest. Harry would have dearly loved to have said, So what. but he didnt feel that Uncle Vernons temper should be tested this early in the morning, especially when it was already under severe strain from lack of food. He therefore settled for looking politely puzzled. This just arrived, said Uncle Vernon. He brandished a piece of purple writing paper at Harry. A letter. About you. Harrys confusion increased. Who would be writing to Uncle Vernon about him. Who did he know who sent letters by the postman. Uncle Vernon glared at Harry, then looked down at the letter and began to read aloud: Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, We have never been introduced, but I am sure you have heard a great deal from Harry about my son Ron. As Harry might have told you, the final of the Quidditch World Cup takes place this Monday night, and my husband, Arthur, has just managed to get prime tickets through his connections at the Department of Magical Games and Sports. I do hope you will allow us to take Harry to the match, as this really is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; Britain hasnt hosted the Cup for thirty years, and tickets are extremely hard to come by. We would of course be glad to have Harry stay for the remainder of the summer holidays, and to see him safely onto the train back to school. It would be best for Harry to send us your answer as quickly as possible in the normal way, because the Muggle postman has never delivered to our house, and I am not sure he even knows where it is. Hoping to see Harry dale, Yours sincerely, P. I do hope weve put enough stamps on. Uncle Vernon finished reading, put his hand back into his breast pocket, and drew out something else. Look at this, he growled. He held up the envelope in which Mrs. Weasleys letter had come, and Harry had to fight down a laugh. Every bit of it was covered in stamps except for a square inch on the front, into which Mrs. Weasley sals squeezed the Dursleys address in minute writing. She did put enough stamps on, then, said Harry, trying to sound as though Mrs. Weasleys was a mistake anyone could make. His uncles eyes flashed. The postman noticed, he said through gritted teeth. Very interested to know where vintsr letter came from, he was. Thats why he rang the vintsr. Seemed to think it was funny. Harry didnt say anything. Other people might not understand why Uncle Vernon was making a fuss about too many stamps, but Harry had lived with the Dursleys too long not to know how touchy they were about anything even slightly out of the ordinary. Their worst fear was that someone would find out that they were connected (however distantly) with people like Mrs. Steam vinter sale. Uncle Vernon was still glaring at Harry, who tried to keep his expression neutral. If he didnt do or say anything stupid, he might just be in for the treat of a lifetime. He waited for Uncle Vernon to say something, but he merely continued to glare. Harry decided to break the silence. So - can I go then. he asked. A slight spasm crossed Uncle Vernons large purple face. The mustache bristled. Harry thought he knew what was going on behind the mustache: a furious battle as two of Uncle Vinteg most fundamental instincts came into conflict. Allowing Harry to go would make Harry happy, something Uncle Vernon had struggled against for thirteen years. On the other hand, allowing Harry to disappear to the Weasleys for the rest of the summer would get rid of him two weeks earlier than anyone could have hoped, and Uncle Vernon hated having Harry in the house. To give himself thinking time, it seemed, he looked down at Mrs. Weasleys letter again.
The unique position you hold in the hearts of the anti-Voldemort movement. Er - no, they dont, said Harry. They think Im a waste of space, actually, but Im used to - I dont think youre a waste of space. If Harry had not seen Dudleys lips move, he might not have believed it. As it was, he stared at Dudley for several seconds before accepting that it must have been his cousin who had spoken; for one thing, Dudley had turned red. Harry was embarrassed and astonished himself. Well. er. thanks, Dudley. Again, Dudley appeared to grapple with thoughts too unwieldy for expression before mumbling, You saved my life. Not really, said Harry. It was your soul the dementor would have taken. He looked curiously at his cousin. They had had virtually no contact during this summer or last, as Harry had come back to Privet Drive so briefly and read article to his room so much. It now dawned on Harry, however, that the cup of cold tea on which he had trodden that morning might not have been a booby trap at all. Although rather touched, he was nevertheless quite relieved that Dudley appeared to have exhausted his ability to express his feelings. After opening his mouth once or twice more, Dudley subsided into scarlet-faced silence. Aunt Petunia burst into tears. Hestia Jones gave her an approving look that changed to outrage as Aunt Petunia ran forward and embraced Dudley rather than Https://godeddaddygogogo.cloud/rust-game/rust-game-on-steam-no-download.php. S-so sweet, Dudders. she sobbed into his massive chest. S-such a lovely b-boy. s-saying thank you. But he hasnt said thank you at all. said Hestia indignantly. He only said he didnt think Harry was a waste of space. Yeah, but coming from Dudley thats like I love you, said Harry, torn between annoyance and a desire to laugh as Aunt Petunia continued to clutch at Dudley Скачать игру counter strike бесплатно if he had just saved Harry from a burning building. Are we going or not. roared Uncle Vernon, reappearing yet again at the living room door. I thought we were on a tight schedule. Yes - yes, we are, said Dedalus Diggle, click here had been watching these exchanges with an air of bemusement and now seemed to pull click together. We really must be off. Harry - He tripped forward and wrung Harrys hand with both of his own. - good luck. I hope we meet again. The hopes of the Wizarding world rest upon your shoulders. Oh, said Harry, right. Thanks. Farewell, Harry, said Hestia, also clasping his hand. Our thoughts go with you. I hope everythings okay, said Harry with a glance toward Aunt Petunia and Dudley. Oh, Im sure we shall end up the best of chums, said Diggle brightly, waving his hat as he left the room. Hestia followed him. Dudley gently released himself from his mothers clutches and walked toward Harry, who had to repress an urge to threaten him with magic. Then Dudley held out his large, pink hand. Blimey, Dudley, said Harry over Aunt Petunias renewed sobs, did the dementors blow a different personality into you. Dunno, muttered Dudley. See you, Harry. Yeah. said Harry, taking Dudleys hand and shaking it. Maybe. Take care, Big D. Dudley nearly smiled, then lumbered from the room. Harry heard his heavy footfalls on the graveled drive, and then a car door slammed. Aunt Petunia, whose face had been buried in battlegrounds zombies pubg: handkerchief, looked around at the sound. She did not seem to have expected to find herself alone with Harry. Hastily stowing her wet handkerchief into her pocket, she said, Well - good-bye, and marched toward the door question коды counter-strike source. modern warfare are looking at him. Good-bye, said Harry. She stopped and looked back. For a moment Harry had the strangest feeling that she wanted to say something to him: She gave him an odd, tremulous look and seemed to teeter on the edge of speech, but then, with a little jerk of her head, she bustled out of the room after her husband and son. H CHAPTER FOUR THE SEVEN POTTERS arry ran back upstairs to his bedroom, arriving at the window just in time to see the Dursleys car swinging out of the drive and off up the road. Dedaluss top hat was visible between Aunt Petunia and Dudley in the backseat. The car turned right at the end of Privet Drive, its windows burned scarlet for a moment in the now setting sun, and then it was gone. Harry picked up Hedwigs cage, his Firebolt, and his rucksack, gave his unnaturally tidy bedroom one last sweeping look, and then made his ungainly way back downstairs to the hall, where he deposited cage, broomstick, Скачать игру counter strike бесплатно bag near the foot of the stairs. The light was fading rapidly Скачать игру counter strike бесплатно, the hall full of shadows in the evening light. It felt most strange to stand here in the silence and know pubg unblocked level he was about to leave the house for the last time. Long ago, when he had been left alone while the Dursleys went out to enjoy themselves, the hours of solitude had been a rare treat: Pausing only to sneak something tasty from the fridge, he had rushed upstairs to play on Dudleys computer, or put on the television and flicked through the channels to his hearts content. It gave him an odd, empty feeling to remember those times; it was like remembering a younger brother whom he had lost. Dont you want to take a last look at the place. he asked Hedwig, https://godeddaddygogogo.cloud/steam-deck/grand-theft-auto-gta-6-trailer-2.php was still sulking with her head under her wing. Well never be here again. Dont you want to remember all the good times. I mean, look at this doormat. What memories. Dudley puked on it after I saved him from the dementors. Turns out he was grateful after all, can you believe it. And last summer, Dumbledore walked through that front door. Harry lost the thread of his thoughts for a moment and Hedwig did nothing to help him retrieve it, but continued to sit with her head under her wing. Harry turned his back on the front door. And under here, Hedwig - Harry pulled open a door under the stairs - is where I used to sleep. You never knew me then - Blimey, its small, Id forgotten. Harry looked around at the stacked shoes and umbrellas, remembering how he used to wake every morning https://godeddaddygogogo.cloud/pubg-game-download/pubg-game-download-computer-typing.php up at the underside of the staircase, which was more often than not adorned with a spider or two. Those had been the days before he had known anything about his true identity; before he had found out how his parents had died or why such strange things often happened around him. But Harry could still remember the dreams that had dogged him, even in those days: confused dreams involving flashes of green light and once - Uncle Vernon had nearly crashed the car when Harry had recounted it - a flying motorbike. There was a sudden, deafening roar from somewhere nearby. Harry straightened up with a jerk and smacked the Скачать игру counter strike бесплатно of his head on the low door frame. Pausing only to employ a few of Uncle Vernons choicest swear words, he staggered back into the kitchen, clutching his head and staring out of the window into the back garden. The darkness seemed to be rippling, the air itself quivering. Then, one by one, figures began to pop into sight as their Disillusionment Charms lifted. Dominating the scene was Hagrid, wearing a helmet and goggles and sitting astride an enormous motorbike with a black sidecar attached. All around him other people were dismounting from brooms and, in two cases, skeletal, black winged horses. Wrenching open the back door, Harry hurtled into their midst.
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