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No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snapes classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons. I do feel so sorry, said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because theyre not wanted at home. He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then hed realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family. It was true that Harry wasnt going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry had signed up at once. He didnt feel sorry for himself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas hed ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie. When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it. Hi, Hagrid, want any help. Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches. Nah, Im all right, thanks, Ron. Would you mind moving out of the way. came Malfoys cold drawl from behind them. Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley. Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose - that hut of Hagrids must seem like a palace compared to what your familys used to. Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs. WEASLEY. Ron let go of the front of Malfoys robes. He was provoked, Professor Snape, said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. Malfoy was insultin his family. Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid, said Snape silkily. Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isnt more. Move along, all of you. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking. Ill get him, said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoys back, one of these days, Ill get him - I hate them both, said Harry, Malfoy and Snape. Come on, cheer up, its nearly Christmas, said Hagrid. Tell yeh what, come with me ansee the Great Hall, looks a treat. So the three of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations. Ah, Hagrid, the last tree - put it in the far corner, would you. The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles. How many days you got left until yer holidays. Hagrid asked. Just one, said Hermione. And that reminds me - Harry, Ron, weve got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library. Oh yeah, youre right, said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree. The library. said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. Just before the holidays. Bit keen, arent yeh. Oh, were not working, Harry told him brightly. Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel weve been trying to find out who he is. You what. Hagrid looked shocked. Listen here - Ive told yeh - drop it. Its nothin to you what that dogs guardin. We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, thats all, said Hermione. Unless youd like to tell us and save us the trouble. Harry added. We mustve been through hundreds of books already and we cant find him anywhere - just give us a hint - I know Ive read his name somewhere. Im sayin nothin, said Hagrid flatly. Just have to find out for ourselves, then, said Ron, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library. They had indeed been searching books for Flamels name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal. The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasnt in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time; he was missing, too, from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows. Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section. He had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasnt somewhere in there. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and he knew hed never get one. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never New civ game at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts. What are you looking for, boy. Nothing, said Harry. Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at him. Youd better get out, then. Go on - out. Wishing hed been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Harry left the library. He, Ron, and Hermione had already agreed theyd better not ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure shed be able to tell them, but they couldnt risk Snape hearing what they were up to. Harry waited outside in the corridor to see if the other two had found anything, but he wasnt very hopeful. They had been looking for two weeks, after all, but as read more only had odd moments between lessons it wasnt surprising theyd found nothing. What they really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks. Five minutes later, Ron and Hermione joined him, shaking their heads. They went off to lunch. You will keep looking while Im theme. download games for android necessary, wont you. said Hermione. And send me an owl if you find anything. And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is, said Ron. Itd be safe to ask them. Very safe, as theyre both dentists, said Hermione. Once the holidays had started, Ron and Harry were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork - bread, English muffins, marshmallows - and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldnt work. Ron also started teaching Harry wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Rons set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it New civ game once belonged to someone else in his family - in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen werent a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted. Harry played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent him, and they didnt trust him at all. He wasnt a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing. Dont send me there, cant you see his knight. Send him, New civ game can afford to lose him. On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When he woke early in the morning, however, the first thing he saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed. Merry Christmas, said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on his bathrobe. You, too, said Harry. Will you look at this. Ive got some presents. What did you expect, turnips. said Ron, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than Harrys. Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled New civ game it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it - it sounded a bit like an owl. A second, very small parcel contained a note. We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Candy crush free Petunia. Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece. Thats friendly, said Harry. Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence. Weird. he said, What a shape. This is money. You can keep it, said Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron was. Hagrid and my aunt and uncle - so who sent these. I think I know who that ones from, said Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. My mum. I told her you didnt expect any presents and - oh, no, he groaned, shes made you a Weasley sweater.
If it hadnt been for Voldemort, 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 Dune imperium strategy - 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 imperkum rise to power - and, incredibly, it had not worked. Instead of killing the small boy, the curse had rebounded strattegy 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 the 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 shock for Harry to discover, on his eleventh birthday, that he was a wizard; it had been even more disconcerting to find out that everyone in tsrategy hidden Wizarding just click for source knew his name. Harry had arrived at Hogwarts to find that strateby 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 around 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 stared 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 stratgy 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 discord mobile 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. Imprrium 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 strateyy 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 atrategy 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 that 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 his 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 succession planning 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. Dune imperium strategy was a simple reason for Straegy 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 https://warstrategygames.cloud/android/best-android-games-2021.php everybody now believed dead. Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew otherwise, however; they had come face-to-face with Wormtail only the previous year, though only Professor Dumbledore had believed their story. For one Dune imperium strategy hour, Harry had believed that he was leaving the Dune imperium strategy at last, because Sirius had offered him a home once his name had been cleared. But go here chance had been snatched away from him - Wormtail had continue reading 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 impdrium him all 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 with 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 with wizards), but by large, brightly colored tropical birds. Hedwig had not impsrium 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 Harry to call on him if ever Harry needed to. Well, he needed to now, all right. Harrys lamp seemed umperium grow dimmer as the cold gray light that precedes sunrise slowly crept into the room. Finally, when the sun most expensive pc risen, when his bedroom walls had turned gold, and when sounds of movement could be heard from Uncle Vernon and Sttategy 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 cut his pocket money if he keeps doing it, so strateggy got really angry and chucked his PlayStation out of the window. Thats a sort of computer thing you can play games on. Stratgey stupid really, now he hasnt even got Mega-Mutilation Part Three to take his mind off things. Im Dune imperium strategy, mainly because the Dursleys are terrified you might turn up 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 Read article. 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 with Hedwig when she gets article source shes off hunting at the moment. Say hello to Buckbeak for me. Yes, thought Harry, Dun 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 more info reflection, he started to get dressed before going down to breakfast. B CHAPTER THREE THE Stategy y the time Harry arrived in the kitchen, the https://warstrategygames.cloud/online/online-gaming-world.php 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 strategh 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.
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