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Lord Voldemort has finally realized the dangerous access to his thoughts and feelings you have been enjoying. It appears that he is now employing Occlumency against you. Well, Im not complaining, said Harry, who missed neither the disturbing dreams nor the startling flashes of insight into Voldemorts mind. They turned a corner, passing a telephone box and a bus shelter. Harry looked sideways at Dumbledore again. Professor. Harry. Er - where exactly are we. This, Harry, is the charming village of Budleigh Babberton. And what are we doing here. Ah yes, of course, I havent told you, said Dumbledore. Well, I have lost count of the number of times I have said this in recent years, but we are, once again, one member of staff short. We are here to persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to Hogwarts. How can I help with that, sir. Oh, I think well find a use for you, said Dumbledore vaguely. Left here, Harry. They proceeded up a steep, narrow street lined with houses. All the windows were dark. The odd chill that had lain over Privet Drive for two weeks persisted here too. Thinking of dementors, Harry cast a look over his shoulder and grasped his wand reassuringly in his pocket. Professor, why couldnt we just Apparate directly into your old colleagues house. Because it would be quite as rude as kicking down the front door, said Dumbledore. Courtesy dictates that we offer fellow wizards the opportunity of denying us entry. In any case, most Wizarding dwellings are magically protected from unwanted Apparators. At Hogwarts, for instance - - you cant Apparate anywhere inside the buildings or grounds, said Harry quickly. Hermione Granger told me. And she is quite right. We turn left again. The church clock chimed midnight behind them. Harry wondered why Dumbledore did not consider it rude to call on his old colleague so late, but now that conversation had been established, he had more pressing questions to ask. Sir, I saw in the Daily Prophet that Fudge has been sacked. Correct, said Dumbledore, now turning up a steep side street. He has been replaced, as I am sure you also saw, by Rufus Scrimgeour, who used to be Head of the Auror office. Is he. Do you think hes good. asked Harry. An interesting question, said Dumbledore. He is able, certainly. A more decisive and forceful personality than Cornelius. Yes, but I meant - I know what you meant. Rufus is a man of action and, having fought Dark wizards for most of his working life, does not underestimate Lord Voldemort. Harry waited, but Dumbledore did not say anything about the disagreement with Scrimgeour that the Daily Prophet had reported, and he did not have the nerve to pursue the subject, so he changed it. And. sir. I saw about Madam Bones. Yes, said Dumbledore quietly. A terrible loss. She was a great witch. Just up here, I think - ouch. He had pointed with his injured hand. Professor, what happened to your -. I have no time to explain now, said Dumbledore. It is a thrilling tale, I wish to do it justice. He smiled at Harry, who understood that he was not being snubbed, and that he had permission to keep asking questions. Sir - I got a Ministry of Magic leaflet by owl, about security measures we should all take against the Death Eaters. Yes, I received one myself, said Dumbledore, still smiling. Did you find it useful. Not really. No, I thought not. You have not asked me, for instance, what is my favorite flavor of jam, to check that I am indeed Professor Dumbledore and not an impostor. I didnt. Harry began, not entirely sure whether he was being reprimanded or not. For future reference, Harry, it is raspberry. although of course, if I were a Death Eater, I would have been sure to research my own jam preferences before impersonating myself. Er. right, said Harry. Well, on that leaflet, it said something about Inferi. What exactly are they. The leaflet wasnt very clear. They are corpses, said Dumbledore calmly. Dead bodies that have been bewitched to do a Dark wizards bidding. Inferi have not been seen for a long time, however, not since Voldemort was last powerful. He killed enough people to make an army of them, more info course. This is the place, Harry, just here. They were nearing a small, neat stone house set in its own garden. Harry was too busy digesting the horrible idea of Inferi to have much attention left for anything else, but as they reached the front gate, Dumbledore stopped dead and Harry walked into him. Oh dear. Oh dear, dear, dear. Harry followed his gaze up the source tended front path and felt his heart sink. The front door was hanging off its hinges. Dumbledore glanced up and down the street. It seemed quite deserted. Wand out and follow me, Harry, he said quietly. He opened the gate and walked swiftly and silently up the garden path, Harry at his heels, then pushed the front door very slowly, his wand raised and at the ready. Lumos. Dumbledores wand-tip ignited, casting its light up a narrow hallway. To the left, another door stood open. Holding his illuminated wand aloft, Dumbledore walked into the sitting room with Harry right behind him. A scene of total devastation met their eyes. A grandfather clock lay splintered at their feet, its face cracked, Baldurs gate whispering depths the game pendulum lying a little farther away like a dropped sword. A piano was on its side, its keys strewn across the floor. The wreckage of a fallen chandelier glittered nearby. Cushions lay deflated, feathers oozing from slashes in their sides; fragments of glass and china lay like powder over everything. Dumbledore raised his wand even higher, so that its light was thrown upon the walls, where something darkly red and glutinous was spattered over the wallpaper. Harrys small intake of breath made Dumbledore look around. Not pretty, is it. he said heavily. Yes, something horrible has happened here. Dumbledore moved carefully into the middle of the room, scrutinizing the wreckage at his feet. Harry followed, gazing around, half-scared of what he might see hidden behind the wreck of the piano or the overturned sofa, but there was no sign of a body. Maybe there was a fight and - and they dragged him off, Professor. Harry suggested, Baldurs gate whispering depths the game not to imagine how badly wounded a man would have to be to leave those stains spattered halfway up check this out walls. I dont think so, said Dumbledore quietly, peering behind an overstuffed armchair lying on its side. You mean hes -. Still here somewhere. Yes. And without warning, Dumbledore swooped, plunging the tip of his wand into the seat of the overstuffed armchair, which yelled, Ouch. Good evening, Horace, said Dumbledore, straightening up again. Harrys jaw dropped. Where a split second before there had been an armchair, there now crouched an enormously fat, bald, old man who was massaging his lower belly and squinting up at Dumbledore with an aggrieved and watery eye. There was no need to stick the wand in that hard, he said gruffly, clambering to his feet. It hurt. The wandlight sparkled on his shiny pate, his prominent eyes, his enormous, silver, walruslike mustache, and the highly polished buttons on the maroon velvet jacket he was wearing over a pair of lilac silk pajamas. The top of his head barely reached Dumbledores chin. What gave it away. he grunted as he staggered to his feet, still rubbing his lower belly. He seemed remarkably unabashed for a man who had just been discovered pretending to be an armchair. My dear Horace, said Dumbledore, looking amused, if the Death Eaters really had come to call, the Dark Mark would have been set over the house. The wizard clapped a pudgy hand to his vast forehead. The Dark Mark, he muttered. Knew there was something. ah well. Baldurs gate whispering depths the game have had time anyway, Id only just put the finishing touches to my upholstery when you entered the room. He heaved a great sigh that made the ends of his mustache flutter. Would you like my assistance clearing up. asked Dumbledore politely. Please, said the other. They stood back to back, the tall thin wizard and the short round one, and waved their wands in one identical sweeping motion. The furniture flew back to its original places; ornaments re-formed in midair, feathers zoomed into their cushions; torn books repaired themselves as they landed upon their shelves; oil lanterns soared onto side tables and reignited; a vast collection of splintered silver picture frames flew glittering across Baldurs gate whispering depths the game room and alighted, whole and untarnished, upon a desk; rips, cracks, and holes healed everywhere, and the walls wiped themselves clean. What kind of blood was that, incidentally. asked Dumbledore loudly over the chiming of the newly unsmashed grandfather clock. On the walls. Dragon, shouted the wizard called Horace, as, with a deafening grinding and tinkling, the chandelier screwed itself back into the ceiling. There was a final plunk from the piano, and silence. Yes, dragon, repeated the wizard conversationally. My last bottle, and prices are sky-high at the moment. Still, it might be reusable. He stumped over to a small crystal bottle standing on top of a sideboard and held it up to the light, examining the thick liquid within. Hmm. Bit dusty. He set the bottle back on the sideboard and sighed. It was then that his gaze fell upon Harry. Oho, he said, his large round eyes flying to Harrys forehead and the lightning-shaped scar it bore. Oho. This, said Dumbledore, moving forward to make the introduction, is Harry Potter. Seems baldurs gate withers for sale opinion, this is an old friend and colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn. Slughorn turned on Dumbledore, his expression shrewd. So thats how you thought youd persuade me, is it. Well, the answers no, Albus. He pushed just click for source Harry, his face turned resolutely away with the air of a man trying to resist temptation. I suppose we can have a drink, at least. asked Dumbledore. For old times sake. Slughorn hesitated. All right then, one drink, he said ungraciously. Dumbledore smiled at Harry and directed him toward a chair not unlike the one that Slughorn had so recently impersonated, which stood right beside the newly burning fire and a brightly glowing oil lamp. Harry took the seat with the distinct impression that Dumbledore, for some reason, wanted to keep him as visible as possible. Certainly when Slughorn, who had been busy with decanters and glasses, turned to face the room again, his eyes fell immediately upon Harry. Hmpf, he said, looking away quickly as though frightened of hurting his eyes. Here - He gave a drink to Dumbledore, who had sat down without invitation, thrust the tray at Harry, and then sank into the cushions of the repaired sofa and a disgruntled silence. His legs were so short they did not touch the floor. Well, how have you been keeping, Horace. Dumbledore asked. Not so well, said Slughorn at once. Weak chest. Wheezy. Rheumatism too. Cant move like I used to. Well, thats to be expected. Old age. Fatigue. And yet you must have moved fairly quickly to prepare such a welcome for us at such short notice, said Dumbledore. You cant have had more than three minutes warning. Slughorn said, half irritably, half proudly, Two. Didnt hear my Intruder Charm go off, I was taking a bath. Still, he added sternly, seeming to pull himself back together again, the fact remains that Im an old man, Albus. A tired old man whos earned the right to a quiet life and a few creature comforts. He certainly had those, thought Harry, looking around the room. It was stuffy and cluttered, yet nobody could say it was uncomfortable; there were soft chairs and footstools, drinks and books, boxes of chocolates and plump cushions. If Harry had not known who lived there, he would have guessed at a rich, fussy old lady. Youre not yet as old as I am, Horace, said Dumbledore. Well, maybe you ought to think about retirement yourself, said Slughorn bluntly. His pale gooseberry eyes had found Dumbledores injured hand. Reactions not what they were, I see.
Said Harry wildly. Where is he. Have you got him. Is he locked up. Karkaroff. said Moody with an odd laugh. Karkaroff fled tonight, when he felt the Dark Mark burn upon his arm. He betrayed too many faithful supporters of the Dark Lord to wish to meet them. but I see more he will get far. The Dark Lord has What is steam room and sauna good for of tracking his enemies. Karkaroffs gone. He ran away. But then - he didnt put my name in the goblet. No, said Moody slowly. No, he didnt. It was I who did that. Harry heard, but didnt believe. No, you didnt, he said. You didnt do that. you cant have done. I assure you I did, said Moody, and his magical eye swung around and fixed upon the door, and Harry knew he was making sure that there was no one outside it. At the What is steam room and sauna good for time, Moody drew out his wand and pointed it at Harry. He forgave them, then. he said. The Death Eaters who went free. The ones who escaped Azkaban. What. said Harry. He was looking at the wand Moody was pointing at him. This was a bad joke, it had to be. I asked you, said Moody quietly, whether he forgave the scum who never even went to look for him. Those treacherous cowards who wouldnt even brave Azkaban for him. The faithless, worthless bits of filth who were brave enough to cavort in masks at the Quidditch World Cup, but fled at the sight of the Dark Mark when I fired it into the sky. You fired. What are you talking about. I told you, Harry. I told you. If theres one thing I hate more than any other, its a Death Eater who walked free. They turned their backs on my master when he needed them most. I expected him to punish them. I expected him to torture them. Tell me he hurt them, Harry. Moodys face was suddenly lit with an insane smile. Tell me he told them that I, I alone remained faithful. prepared to risk everything to deliver to him the one thing he project zomboid loot above all. you. You didnt. it - it cant be you. Who put your name in the Goblet of Fire, under the name of a different school. I did. Who frightened off every person I thought might try to hurt you or prevent you from winning the tournament. I did. Who nudged Hagrid into showing you the dragons. I did. Who helped you see the only way you could beat the dragon. I did. Moodys magical eye had now left the door. It was fixed upon Harry. His lopsided mouth leered more widely than ever. It hasnt been easy, Harry, guiding you through these tasks without arousing suspicion. I have had to use every ounce of cunning I possess, so that my hand would not be detectable in your success. Dumbledore would have been What is steam room and sauna good for suspicious if you had managed everything too easily. As long as you got into that maze, preferably with a decent head start - then, I knew, I would have a chance of getting rid of the other champions and leaving your way clear. But I also had to contend with your stupidity. The second task. that was when I was most afraid we would fail. I was keeping watch on you, Potter. I knew you hadnt worked out the eggs clue, so I had to give you another hint - You didnt, Harry said hoarsely. Cedric gave me the clue - Who told Cedric to open it underwater. I did. I trusted that he would pass the information on to you. Decent people are so easy to manipulate, Potter. I was sure Cedric would want to repay you for telling him about the dragons, and so he did. But even then, Potter, even then you seemed likely to fail. I was watching all the time. all those hours in What is steam room and sauna good for library. Didnt you realize that the book you needed was in your dormitory all along. I planted it there early on, I gave it to the Longbottom boy, dont you remember. Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean. It would have told you all What is steam room and sauna good for needed to know about gillyweed. I expected you to ask everyone and anyone you could for help. Longbottom would have told you in an instant. But you did not. you did not. You have a streak of pride and independence that might have ruined all.
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