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This meant that he knew a visit web page of things Harry didnt, but had never used a telephone before. Most unluckily, it had been Uncle Vernon who had answered the call. Vernon Dursley speaking. Harry, who happened to be in the room at the time, froze as he heard Rons voice answer. HELLO. HELLO. CAN YOU HEAR ME. I - WANT - TO - TALK - TO - HARRY - POTTER. Ron was yelling so loudly that Uncle Vernon jumped and held the receiver a foot away from his ear, staring at it with an expression of mingled fury and alarm. WHO IS THIS. he roared in the direction of the mouthpiece. WHO ARE YOU. RON - WEASLEY. Ron bellowed back, as though he and Uncle Vernon were speaking from opposite ends of a football field. IM - A - FRIEND - OF - HARRYS - FROM - SCHOOL - Uncle Vernons small eyes swiveled around to Harry, who was rooted to the spot. THERE IS NO HARRY POTTER HERE. he roared, now holding the receiver at arms length, as though frightened it might explode. I DONT KNOW WHAT SCHOOL YOURE TALKING ABOUT. NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN. DONT YOU COME NEAR MY FAMILY. And he threw the receiver back onto the telephone as if dropping a poisonous spider. The fight that had followed had been one of the worst ever. HOW DARE YOU GIVE THIS NUMBER TO PEOPLE LIKE - PEOPLE LIKE YOU. Uncle Vernon had roared, spraying Harry with spit. Ron obviously realized that hed gotten Harry into trouble, because he hadnt called again. Harrys other best friend from Hogwarts, Hermione Granger, hadnt been in touch either. Harry suspected that Ron had warned Hermione not to call, which was a pity, because Hermione, the cleverest witch in Harrys year, had Muggle parents, knew perfectly well how to use a telephone, and would probably have had enough sense not to say that she went to Hogwarts. So Harry had had no word from any of his wizarding friends for five long weeks, and this summer was turning out to be almost as bad as the last one. There was just one very small improvement - after swearing that he wouldnt use her to send letters to any of his friends, Harry had been allowed to let his owl, Hedwig, out at night. Uncle Vernon had given in because of the racket Hedwig made if she was locked in her cage all the time. Harry finished writing about Wendelin the Weird and paused to listen again. The silence in the dark house was broken only by the distant, grunting snores of his enormous cousin, Dudley. It must be very late, Harry thought. His eyes were itching with tiredness. Perhaps hed finish this essay tomorrow night. He replaced the top of the ink bottle; pulled an old pillowcase from under his bed; put the flashlight, A History of Magic, his essay, quill, and ink inside it; got out of bed; and hid the lot under a loose floorboard under his bed. Then he stood up, stretched, and checked the time on the luminous alarm clock on his bedside table. It was one oclock in the morning. Harrys stomach gave a funny jolt. He had been thirteen years old, without realizing it, for a whole hour. Yet another unusual thing about Harry was how little he looked forward to his birthdays. He had never received a birthday card in his life. The Dursleys had completely ignored his last two birthdays, and he had no reason to suppose they would remember this one. Harry walked across the dark room, past Hedwigs large, empty cage, to the open window. He leaned on the sill, the cool night air pleasant on his face after a long time under the blankets. Hedwig had been absent for two nights now. Harry wasnt worried about her: Shed been gone this long before. But he hoped shed be back soon - she was the only living creature in this house who didnt flinch at the sight of him. Harry, though still rather small and skinny for his age, had grown a few inches over the last year. His jet-black hair, however, was just as it always had been - stubbornly untidy, whatever he did to it. The eyes behind his glasses were bright green, and on his forehead, clearly visible through his hair, was a thin scar, shaped like a bolt of lightning. Of all the unusual things about Harry, this scar was the most extraordinary of all. It was not, as the Dursleys had pretended for ten years, a souvenir of the car crash that had killed Harrys parents, because Lily and James Potter had not died in a car crash. They had been murdered, murdered by the most feared Dark wizard for a hundred years, Lord Voldemort. Harry had escaped from the same attack with nothing more than a scar on his forehead, where Voldemorts curse, instead of killing him, had rebounded upon its originator. Barely alive, Voldemort had fled. But Harry had come face-to-face with him at Hogwarts. Remembering their last meeting as he stood at the dark window, Harry had to admit he was lucky even to have reached his thirteenth birthday. He scanned the starry sky for a sign of Hedwig, perhaps soaring back to him with a dead mouse dangling from her beak, expecting praise. Gazing absently over the rooftops, it was a few seconds before Harry realized what he was seeing. Silhouetted against the golden moon, and growing larger every moment, was a large, strangely lopsided creature, and it was flapping in Harrys direction. He stood quite still, watching it sink lower and lower. For a split second he hesitated, his hand on the window latch, wondering whether to slam it shut. But then the bizarre creature soared over one of the street lamps of Privet Drive, and Harry, realizing what it was, leapt aside. Through the window soared three owls, two of them holding up the third, which appeared to be unconscious. They landed with a soft flump on Harrys bed, and the middle owl, which was large and gray, keeled right over and lay motionless. There was a large package tied to its legs. Harry recognized the unconscious owl at once - his name was Errol, and he belonged to the Weasley family. Harry dashed to the bed, untied the cords around Errols legs, took off the parcel, and then carried Errol to Hedwigs cage. Errol opened one bleary eye, gave a feeble hoot of thanks, and began to gulp some water. Harry turned back to the remaining owls. One of them, the large snowy female, was his own Hedwig. She, too, was carrying a parcel and looked extremely pleased with herself. She gave Harry an affectionate nip with her beak as he removed her burden, then flew across the room to join Errol. Harry didnt recognize the third owl, a handsome tawny one, but he knew at once where it had come from, because in addition to a third package, it was carrying a letter bearing the Hogwarts crest. When Harry relieved this owl of its burden, it ruffled its feathers importantly, stretched its wings, and took off through the window into the night. Harry sat down on his bed and grabbed Errols package, ripped off the brown paper, and discovered a present wrapped in gold, and his first-ever birthday card. Fingers trembling slightly, he opened the envelope. Two pieces of paper fell out - a letter and a newspaper clipping. The clipping had clearly come out of the wizarding newspaper, the Daily Prophet, because the people in the black-and-white picture were moving. Harry picked up the clipping, smoothed it out, and read: MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw. A delighted Mr. Weasley told the Daily Prophet, We will be spending the gold on a summer holiday in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank. The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley children currently attend. Harry scanned the moving photograph, and a grin spread across his face as he saw all nine of the Weasleys waving furiously at him, standing in front of a large pyramid. Plump little Mrs. Weasley; tall, balding Mr. Weasley; six sons; and one daughter, all (though the black-and-white picture didnt show it) with flaming-red hair. Right in the middle of the picture was Ron, tall and gangling, with his pet rat, Scabbers, on his shoulder and his arm around his little sister, Ginny. Harry couldnt think of anyone who deserved to win a large pile of gold more than the Weasleys, who were click nice and extremely poor. He picked up Rons letter and unfolded it. Dear Harry, Happy birthday. Look, Im really sorry about that telephone call. I hope the Muggles didnt give you a hard time. I asked Dad, and he reckons I shouldnt have shouted. Its amazing here in Egypt. Bills taken us around all the tombs and you wouldnt believe the curses those old Egyptian wizards put on them. Mum wouldnt let Ginny come in the last one. There were all these mutant skeletons in there, of Muggles whod broken in and grown extra heads and stuff. I couldnt believe it when Dad won the Daily Prophet Draw. Seven hundred Galleons. Most of its gone on this trip, but theyre going to buy me a new wand for next year. Harry remembered only too well the occasion when Rons old wand had snapped. It had happened when the car the two of them had been flying to Hogwarts had crashed into a tree on the school grounds. Well be back about a week before term starts and well be going up to London to get my wand and our new books. Any chance of meeting you there. Dont let the Muggles get you down. Try and come to London, P. Percys Head Boy. He got the letter last week. Harry glanced back at the photograph. Percy, who was in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, was looking particularly smug. He had pinned his Head Boy badge to the fez perched jauntily on top of his neat hair, his hornrimmed glasses flashing in the Egyptian sun. Harry now turned to his present and unwrapped it. Inside was what looked like a miniature glass spinning top. There was another note from Ron beneath it. Harry - this is a Pocket Sneakoscope. If theres someone untrustworthy around, its supposed to light up and spin. Bill says its rubbish sold for wizard tourists and isnt reliable, because it kept lighting up at dinner last night. But he didnt realize Fred and George had put beetles in his soup. Bye - Harry put the Pocket Sneakoscope on his bedside table, where it stood quite still, balanced on its point, reflecting the luminous hands of his clock. He looked at it happily for a few seconds, then picked up the parcel Hedwig had brought. Inside this, too, there was a wrapped present, a card, and a letter, this time from Hermione. Dear Harry, Ron wrote to me and told me about his phone call to your Uncle Vernon. I do hope youre all right. Im on holiday in France at the moment and I didnt know how I was going to send this to you - what if theyd opened it at customs. - but then Hedwig turned up. I think she wanted to make sure you got something for your birthday for a change. I bought your present by owlorder; there was an advertisement in the Daily Prophet (Ive been getting it delivered; its so good to keep up with whats going on in the wizarding world). Did you see that picture of Ron and his family a week ago. I bet hes learning loads. Im really jealous - the ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating. Theres some interesting local history of witchcraft here, too. Ive rewritten apologise, apex algs date was whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things Ive found out. I hope its not too long - its two rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns asked for. Ron says hes going to be in London in the last week of the holidays. Can you make it. Will your aunt and uncle let you come. I really hope you can. If not, Ill see you on the Hogwarts Express on September first. Love from P. Ron says Percys Head Boy. Ill bet Percys really pleased. Ron doesnt seem too happy about it. Harry laughed as he put Hermiones letter aside and picked up her present. It was very heavy. Knowing Hermione, he was sure it would be a large book full of very difficult spells - but it wasnt. His heart gave a huge bound as he ripped back the paper and saw a sleek black leather case, with silver words stamped across it, reading Broomstick Servicing Kit. Wow, Hermione. Harry whispered, unzipping the case to look inside. There was a large jar of Fleetwoods High-Finish Handle Polish, a pair of gleaming silver Tail-Twig Clippers, a tiny brass compass to clip on your broom for long journeys, and a Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare. Apart from his friends, the thing that Harry missed most about Hogwarts was Quidditch, the most popular sport in the magical world - highly dangerous, very exciting, and played on broomsticks. Harry happened to be a very good Quidditch player; he had been the youngest person in a century to be picked for one of the Hogwarts House teams. One of Harrys most prized possessions was his Nimbus Two Thousand racing broom. Harry put the leather case aside and picked up his last parcel. He recognized the untidy scrawl on the brown paper at once: This was from Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper. He tore off the top layer of paper and glimpsed something green and leathery, but before he could unwrap it properly, the parcel gave a strange quiver, and whatever see more inside it snapped loudly - as though it had jaws. Harry froze. He knew that Hagrid would never send him anything dangerous on purpose, but then, Hagrid didnt have a normal persons view of what was dangerous. Hagrid had been known to befriend giant spiders, buy vicious, three-headed dogs from men in pubs, and sneak illegal dragon eggs into Rust game composter machine cabin. Harry poked the parcel nervously. It snapped loudly again. Harry reached for the Rust game composter machine on his bedside table, gripped it firmly in one hand, and raised it over his head, ready to strike. Then he seized the rest of the wrapping paper in his other hand and pulled. And out fell - a book. Harry just had time to register its handsome green cover, emblazoned with the golden title The Monster Book of Monsters, before it flipped onto its edge and scuttled sideways along the bed like some weird crab. Uh-oh, Harry muttered. The book toppled off the bed with a loud clunk and shuffled rapidly across the room. Harry followed it stealthily. The book was hiding in the dark space under his desk. Praying that the Dursleys were still fast asleep, Harry got down on his hands and knees and reached toward it. Ouch. The book snapped shut on his hand and then flapped past him, still scuttling on its covers. Harry scrambled around, threw himself forward, and managed to flatten it. Uncle Vernon gave a loud, sleepy grunt in the room next door. Hedwig and Errol watched interestedly as Harry clamped the struggling book tightly in his arms, hurried to his chest of drawers, and pulled out a belt, which he buckled tightly around it. The Monster Book shuddered angrily, but could no longer flap and snap, so Harry threw it down on the bed and reached for Hagrids card. Dear Harry, Happy birthday. Think you might find this useful for next year. Wont say no more here. Tell you when I see you. Hope the Muggles are treating you right. All the best, Hagrid It struck Harry as ominous that Hagrid thought a biting book would come in useful, but he put Hagrids card up next to Rons and Hermiones, grinning more broadly than ever. Now there was only the letter from Hogwarts left. Noticing that it was rather thicker than usual, Harry slit open the envelope, pulled out the first page of parchment within, and read: Dear Mr. Potter, Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from Kings Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven oclock. Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign. A list of books for next year is enclosed. Yours sincerely, Deputy Headmistress Harry pulled out the Hogsmeade permission form and looked at it, no longer grinning. It would be wonderful to visit Hogsmeade on weekends; he knew it was an entirely wizarding village, and he had never set foot there. But how on earth was he going to persuade Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia to sign the form. He looked over at the alarm clock. It was now two oclock in the morning. Deciding that hed worry about the Hogsmeade form when he woke up, Harry got back into bed and reached up to cross off another day on the chart hed made for himself, counting down the days left until his return to Hogwarts. Then he took off his glasses and lay down, eyes open, facing his three birthday cards. Extremely unusual though he was, at that moment Harry Potter felt just like everyone else - glad, for the first time in his life, that it was his birthday. H CHAPTER TWO AUNT MARGES BIG MISTAKE arry went down to breakfast the next morning to find the three Dursleys already sitting around the kitchen table. They were watching a brand-new television, a welcome-home-for-the-summer present for Dudley, who had been complaining loudly about the long walk between the fridge and the television in the living room. Dudley had spent most of the summer in the kitchen, his piggy little eyes fixed on the screen and read article five chins wobbling as he ate continually. Harry sat down between Dudley and Uncle Click here, a large, beefy man with very little neck and a lot of mustache. Far from wishing Harry a happy birthday, none of the Dursleys made any sign that they had noticed Harry enter the room, but Harry was far too used to this to care. He helped himself to a piece of toast and then looked up at the reporter on the television, who was halfway through a report on an escaped convict:. The public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hot line has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately. No something strategy implementation agree to tell us hes no good, snorted Uncle Vernon, staring over the top of his newspaper at the prisoner. Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout. Look at his hair. He shot a nasty look sideways at Harry, whose untidy hair had always been a source of great annoyance to Uncle Vernon. Compared to the man on the television, however, whose gaunt face was surrounded by a matted, elbowlength tangle, Harry felt very well groomed indeed. The reporter had reappeared. The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today - Hang on. barked Uncle Vernon, staring furiously at the reporter. You didnt tell us where that maniacs escaped from. What use is that. Lunatic could be coming up the street right now. Aunt Petunia, who was bony and horse-faced, whipped around and peered intently out of the kitchen window. Harry knew Aunt Petunia would simply love to be the one to call the hot line number. She was the nosiest woman in the world and spent most of her life spying on the boring, law-abiding neighbors. When will they learn, said Uncle Vernon, pounding the table with his large purple fist, that hangings the only way to deal with these people. Very true, said Aunt Petunia, who was still squinting into next doors runner beans. Uncle Vernon drained his teacup, glanced at his watch, and added, Id better be off in a minute, Petunia. Marges train gets in at ten. Harry, whose thoughts had been upstairs with the Broomstick Servicing Kit, was brought back to earth with an unpleasant bump. Aunt Marge. he blurted out. Sh - shes not coming here, is she. Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernons sister. Even though she was not a blood relative of Harrys (whose mother had been Aunt Petunias sister), he had been forced to call her Aunt all his life. Aunt Marge lived in the country, in a house with a large garden, where she bred bulldogs. She didnt often stay at Privet Drive, because she couldnt bear to leave her precious dogs, but each of her visits stood out horribly vividly in Harrys mind. At Dudleys fifth birthday party, Aunt Marge had whacked Harry around the shins with her walking stick to stop him from beating Dudley at musical statues. A few years later, she had turned up at Christmas with a computerized robot for Dudley and a box of dog biscuits for Harry. On her last visit, the year before Harry started at Hogwarts, Harry had accidentally trodden on the tail of her favorite dog. Ripper had chased Harry out into the garden and up a tree, and Aunt Marge had refused to call him off until past midnight. The memory of this incident still brought tears of laughter to Dudleys eyes. Margell be here for a week, Uncle Vernon snarled, and while were on the subject - he pointed a fat finger threateningly at Harry - we need to get a few things straight before I go and collect her. Dudley smirked and withdrew his gaze from the television. Watching Harry being bullied by Uncle Vernon was Dudleys favorite form of entertainment. Firstly, growled Uncle Vernon, youll keep a civil tongue in your head when youre talking to Marge. All right, said Harry bitterly, if she does when shes talking to me. Secondly, said Uncle Vernon, acting as though he had not heard Harrys reply, as Marge doesnt know anything about your abnormality, I dont want any - any funny stuff while shes here. You behave yourself, got me. I will if she does, said Harry through gritted teeth. And thirdly, said Uncle Vernon, his mean little eyes now slits in his great purple face, weve told Marge you attend St. Brutuss Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. What. Harry yelled. And youll be sticking to that story, boy, or therell be trouble, spat Uncle Vernon. Harry sat there, white-faced and furious, staring at Uncle Vernon, hardly able to believe it. Aunt Marge coming for a week-long visit - it was the worst birthday present the Dursleys had ever given him, including that pair of Uncle Vernons old socks. Well, Petunia, said Uncle Vernon, getting heavily to his feet, Ill be off to the station, then. Want to come along for the ride, Dudders. No, said Dudley, whose attention had returned to the television now that Uncle Vernon had finished threatening Harry. Duddys got to make himself smart for his auntie, said Aunt Petunia, smoothing Dudleys thick blond hair. Mummys bought him a lovely new bow tie. Uncle Vernon clapped Dudley on his porky shoulder. See you in a bit, then, he said, and he left the kitchen. Harry, who had been sitting in a kind of horrified trance, had a sudden idea. Abandoning his toast, he got quickly to his feet and followed Uncle Vernon to the front door. Uncle Vernon was pulling on his car coat. Im not taking you, he snarled as he turned to see Harry watching him. Like I wanted to come, said Harry coldly. I want to ask you something. Uncle Vernon eyed him suspiciously. Third years at Hog - at my school are allowed to visit the village sometimes, said Harry. snapped Uncle Vernon, taking his car keys from a hook next to the door. I need you to sign the permission form, said Harry in a rush. And why should I do that. sneered Uncle Vernon. Well, said Harry, choosing his words carefully, itll be hard work, pretending to Aunt Marge I go to that St. Whatsits - St. Brutuss Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. bellowed Uncle Vernon, and Harry was pleased to hear a definite note of panic in Uncle Vernons voice. Exactly, said Harry, looking calmly up into Uncle Vernons large, purple face. Its a lot to remember. Ill have to make it sound convincing, wont I. What if I accidentally let something slip. Youll get the stuffing knocked out of you, wont you. roared Uncle Vernon, advancing on Harry with his fist raised. But Harry stood his ground. Knocking the stuffing out of me wont make Aunt Marge forget what I could tell her, he said grimly. Uncle Vernon stopped, his fist still raised, his face an ugly puce. But if you sign my permission form, Harry went on quickly, I swear Ill remember where Im supposed to go to school, and Ill act like a Mug - like Im normal and everything. Harry could tell that Uncle Vernon was thinking it over, even if his teeth were bared and a vein was throbbing in his temple. Right, he snapped finally. I shall monitor your behavior carefully during Marges visit. If, at the end of it, youve toed the line and kept to the story, Ill sign your ruddy form.
It was only Dumbledores protection that was keeping me out of Azkaban. Do you disagree that murdering his favorite student might have turned him against me. But there was more to it than that. I should remind you that go here Potter first arrived at Hogwarts there were still many stories circulating about him, rumors that he himself was a great Dark wizard, which was how he had survived the Dark Lords attack. Indeed, many of the Dark Lords old followers thought Potter might be a standard around which we could all rally once more. I was curious, I admit it, and not at all gamrloop to murder him the moment he set foot in the castle. Of course, it became apparent to me very quickly that he had no extraordinary talent at all. He has fought his way out of a number of tight corners by a simple combination of sheer luck and more talented friends. He is mediocre to the last degree, though as obnoxious and self-satisfied as was his father before him. I have done my utmost to have him thrown out of Hogwarts, where I believe he scarcely belongs, but kill him, Pubg gameloop joker x reader allow him to be killed in front of me. I would have been a fool to risk it with Dumbledore close at hand. And through all this we are supposed to believe Dumbledore has never suspected you. asked Bellatrix. He has no idea of your true allegiance, he trusts you implicitly still. I have played my part well, said Snape. And you overlook Dumbledores greatest weakness: He has to believe the best of people. I spun him a tale of deepest remorse when I joined his staff, https://beststrategygames.cloud/baldurs-gate/baldurs-gate-3-inquisitors-chamber-royal.php from my Death Eater days, and he embraced me with open arms - though, as I say, never allowing me nearer the Dark Arts than he could help. Dumbledore has been a great wizard - oh yes, he has, (for Bellatrix had made a scathing noise), the Dark Lord acknowledges it. I am pleased to say, however, that Dumbledore is growing old. The gameoop with the Dark Lord last month shook him. He has since sustained a serious injury because his reactions are slower than they once were. Pubbg through all these years, he has never stopped trusting Severus Snape, and therein lies my great value to the Dark Lord. Bellatrix still looked unhappy, though she appeared unsure how best to attack Snape next. Taking advantage of her silence, Phbg turned to her sister. Now. you came to ask me for help, Narcissa. Narcissa looked up at him, her face eloquent with despair. Yes, Severus. I - I think you are the gameeloop one who can help me, I have nowhere else to turn. Lucius click in jail and. She closed her eyes and two large tears seeped from beneath her eyelids. The Dark Lord has forbidden me to speak Pung it, Narcissa continued, her eyes still closed. He wishes none to know of the plan. It is. very secret. But - If he has forbidden it, you ought not to speak, said Snape at once. The Dark Lords word is law. Narcissa gasped as Pubg gameloop joker x reader he Pubg gameloop joker x reader doused her with cold water. Bellatrix looked satisfied for the first time since she had entered the house. There. she said triumphantly to her sister. Even Snape says so: You were told not to talk, so Pubg gameloop joker x reader your silence. But Snape had gotten to his feet and strode to the small window, peered through the curtains at the deserted street, then closed them again with a jerk. He turned around to face Narcissa, frowning. It so happens that I know of the plan, he said in a low voice. I am one of the few the Dark Lord has told. Nevertheless, had I not been in on the secret, Gamelopp, you would have been guilty of great treachery to the Dark Pubg gameloop joker x reader. I thought you must know about it. said Narcissa, breathing more freely. He trusts you so, Severus. You know about the plan. said Bellatrix, her fleeting expression of satisfaction replaced by a look of outrage. You know. Certainly, said Snape. But what help do you require, Narcissa. Pubg gameloop joker x reader you are imagining I can persuade the Dark Lord to change his mind, I am afraid there is no hope, none at all. Severus, she whispered, tears sliding down her pale cheeks. My son. my only son. Draco should be proud, said Readder indifferently. The Dark Lord is granting him a great honor.
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