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He did not want to let his anger spill out at her, but it was hard to keep his voice steady. I thought youd say They were young. They were the same age as we are now. And here we are, risking our lives to fight the Dark Arts, and there he was, in a huddle with his new best friend, plotting their rise to power over the Muggles. His temper would not remain in check much longer: He stood up and walked around, trying to work some of it off. Im not trying to defend what Dumbledore wrote, said Hermione. All that right to rule rubbish, its Magic Is Might all over again. But Harry, his mother had just died, he was stuck alone in the house - Alone. He wasnt alone. He had his brother and sister for company, his Squib sister he was keeping locked up - I dont believe it, said Hermione. She stood up too. Whatever was wrong with that girl, I dont think she was a Squib. The Dumbledore we knew would never, ever have allowed - The Dumbledore we thought we knew didnt want to conquer Muggles by force. Harry shouted, his voice echoing across the empty hilltop, and several blackbirds rose into the air, squawking and spiraling against the pearly sky. He changed, Harry, he changed. Its as simple as that. Maybe he did believe these things when he was seventeen, but the whole of the rest of his life was devoted to fighting the Dark Arts. Dumbledore was the one who stopped Grindelwald, the one who always voted for Muggle protection and Muggle-born rights, who fought You-Know-Who from the start, and who died trying to bring him down. Ritas book lay on the ground between them, so that the face of Albus Dumbledore smiled dolefully at both. Harry, Im sorry, but I think the real reason youre so angry is that Just click for source never told you any of this himself. Maybe I am. Harry bellowed, and he flung his arms over his head, hardly knowing whether he was trying to hold in his anger or protect himself from the weight of his own disillusionment. Look what he asked from me, Hermione. Risk your life, Harry. And again. And again. And dont expect me to explain everything, just trust me blindly, trust that I know what Im doing, trust me even though I dont trust you. Never the whole truth. Never. His voice cracked with the strain, and they stood looking at each other in the whiteness and the emptiness, and Harry felt they were as insignificant as insects will genshin impact steam deck controller not working thanks that wide sky. He loved you, Hermione whispered. I know he loved you. Harry dropped his arms. I dont know who he loved, Hermione, but it was never me. This isnt love, the mess hes left me in. He shared a damn sight more of what he was really thinking with Gellert Grindelwald than he ever shared with me. Harry picked up Hermiones wand, which he had dropped in the snow, and sat back down in the entrance of the tent. Thanks for the tea. Ill finish the watch. You get back in the warm. She hesitated, but recognized the dismissal. She picked up the book and then walked back past him into the tent, but as she did so, she brushed the top of his head lightly with her hand. He closed his eyes at her touch, and hated himself for wishing that what she said was true: that Dumbledore had really cared. I CHAPTER NINETEEN THE SILVER DOE t was snowing by the time Hermione took over the watch at midnight. Harrys dreams were confused and disturbing: Nagini wove in and out of them, first through a gigantic, cracked ring, then through a wreath of Christmas roses. He woke repeatedly, panicky, convinced that somebody had called out to him in the distance, imagining that the wind whipping around the tent was footsteps or voices. Finally he got up in the darkness and joined Hermione, who was huddled in the entrance to the tent reading A History of Magic by the light of her wand. The snow was still falling thickly, and she greeted with relief his suggestion of packing up early and moving on. Well go somewhere more sheltered, she agreed, shivering as she pulled on a sweatshirt over her pajamas. I kept thinking I could hear people moving outside. I even thought I saw somebody once or twice. Harry paused in the act of pulling on a jumper and glanced at the silent, motionless Sneakoscope on the table. Im sure I imagined it, said Hermione, looking nervous. The snow in the dark, it plays tricks on your eyes. But perhaps we ought to Disapparate under the Invisibility Cloak, just in case. Half an hour later, with the tent packed, Harry wearing the Horcrux, and Hermione clutching the beaded bag, they Disapparated. The usual tightness engulfed them; Harrys feet parted company with the snowy ground, then slammed hard onto what felt like frozen earth covered with leaves. Where are we. he asked, peering around at a fresh mass of trees as Hermione opened the beaded bag and began tugging out tent poles. The Forest of Dean, she said. I came camping here once with my mum and dad. Here too snow lay on the trees all around and it was bitterly cold, but they were at least protected from the wind. They spent most of the day inside the tent, huddled for warmth around the useful bright blue flames that Hermione was so adept at producing, and which could be scooped up and carried around in a jar. Harry felt as though he was recuperating from some brief but severe illness, an impression reinforced by Hermiones solicitousness. That afternoon fresh flakes drifted down upon them, so that even their sheltered clearing had a fresh dusting of powdery snow. After two nights of little sleep, Harrys senses seemed more alert than usual. Their escape from Godrics Hollow had been so narrow that Voldemort seemed somehow closer than before, more threatening. As darkness drew in again Harry refused Hermiones offer to keep watch and told her to go to bed. Harry moved an old cushion into the tent mouth and sat down, wearing all the sweaters he owned but even so, still shivery. The darkness deepened with the passing hours until it was virtually impenetrable. He was on the point of taking out the Marauders Map, so as to watch Ginnys dot for a read article, before he remembered that it was the Christmas holidays and that she would be back at the Burrow. Every https://strategygamespc.cloud/baldurs-gate/baldurs-gate-ketheric-thorm-zoo.php movement seemed magnified in the vastness of the forest. Harry knew that it must be full of living creatures, but he wished they would all remain still and silent so that he could separate their innocent scurryings and prowlings from noises that might proclaim other, sinister movements. He remembered the sound of a cloak slithering over dead leaves many years ago, and at once thought he heard it again before mentally shaking himself. Their protective How to refund on steam deck had worked for weeks; why should they break now. And predator rainforest apex of tropical he could not throw off the feeling that something was different tonight. Several times he jerked upright, his neck aching because he had fallen asleep, slumped at an awkward angle against the side of the tent. The night reached such a depth of velvety blackness that he might have been suspended in limbo between Disapparition and Apparition. He had just held up a hand in front of his face to see whether he could make out his fingers when it happened. A bright silver light appeared right ahead of him, moving through the trees. Whatever the source, it was moving soundlessly. The light seemed simply to drift toward him. He jumped to his feet, his voice frozen in his throat, and raised Hermiones wand. He screwed up his eyes as the light became blinding, the trees in front of it pitch-black in silhouette, and still the thing came closer. And then the source of the light stepped out from behind an oak. It was a silver-white doe, moon-bright and dazzling, picking her way over the ground, still silent, and leaving no hoofprints in the fine powdering of snow. She stepped toward him, her beautiful head with its wide, long-lashed eyes held high. Harry stared at the creature, filled with wonder, not at her strangeness, but at her inexplicable familiarity. He felt that he had been waiting for her to come, but that he had forgotten, until this moment, that they had arranged to meet. His impulse to shout for Hermione, which had been so strong a moment ago, had gone. He knew, he would have staked his life on it, that she had come for him, and him alone. They gazed at each other for several long moments and then she turned and walked away. No, he said, and his voice was cracked with lack of use. Come back. She continued to step deliberately through the trees, and soon her brightness was striped by their thick black trunks. For one trembling second he hesitated. Caution murmured it could be a trick, a lure, a trap. But instinct, overwhelming instinct, told him that this was not Dark Magic. He set off in pursuit. Snow crunched beneath his feet, but the doe made no noise as she passed through the trees, for she was nothing but light. Deeper and deeper into the forest she led him, and Harry walked quickly, sure that when she stopped, she would allow him to approach her properly. And then she would speak and the voice would tell him what he needed to know. At last, she came to a halt. She turned her beautiful head toward him once more, and he broke into a run, a question burning in him, but as he opened his lips to ask it, she vanished. Though the darkness had swallowed her whole, her burnished image was still imprinted on his retinas; it obscured his vision, brightening when he lowered his eyelids, disorienting him. Now fear came: Her presence had meant safety. Lumos. he whispered, and the wand-tip ignited. The imprint of the doe faded away with every blink of his eyes as he stood there, listening to the sounds of the forest, to distant crackles of twigs, soft swishes of snow. Was he about to be attacked. Had she enticed him into an ambush. Was he imagining that somebody stood beyond the reach of the wandlight, watching him. He held the wand higher. Nobody ran out at him, no flash of green light burst from behind a tree. Why, then, had she led him to this spot. Something gleamed in the light of the wand, and Harry spun about, but all that was there was a small, frozen pool, its cracked black surface glittering as he raised the wand higher to examine it. He moved forward rather cautiously and looked down. The ice reflected his distorted shadow and the beam of wandlight, but deep https://strategygamespc.cloud/pubg/pubg-character-png-zodiac.php the thick, misty gray carapace, something else glinted. A great silver cross. His heart skipped into his mouth: He dropped to his knees at the pools edge and angled the wand so as to flood the bottom of the pool with as much light as possible. A glint of deep red. It was a sword with glittering rubies in its hilt. The sword of Gryffindor was lying at the bottom of the forest pool. Barely breathing, he stared down at it. How was this possible. How could it have come to be lying in a forest pool, this close to the place where they were camping. Had some unknown magic drawn Hermione to this spot, or was the doe, which he had taken to be a Patronus, some kind of guardian of the pool. Or had the sword been put into the pool after they had arrived, precisely because they were here. In which case, where was the person who had wanted to pass it to Harry. Again he directed the wand at the surrounding trees and bushes, searching for a human outline, for the glint of an eye, but he could not see anyone there. All the same, a little more fear see more his exhilaration as he returned his attention to the sword reposing upon the bottom of the frozen pool. He pointed the wand at the silvery shape and murmured, Accio Sword. It did not stir. He had not expected it to. If it had been that easy, the sword would have lain on the ground for him to pick up, not in the depths of a frozen pool. He set off around the circle of ice, thinking hard about the last time the sword had delivered itself to him. He had been in terrible danger then, and had asked for help. Help, he murmured, but the sword remained upon the pool bottom, indifferent, motionless. What was it, Harry asked himself (walking again), that Dumbledore had told him the last time he had retrieved the sword. Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the hat. And what fallout addiction withdrawal effects the qualities that defined a Gryffindor. A small voice inside Harrys head answered him: Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart. Harry stopped walking and let out a long sigh, his smoky breath dispersing rapidly upon the frozen air. He knew what he had to do. If he was honest with himself, he had thought it might come to this from the moment he had spotted the sword through the ice. He glanced around at the surrounding trees again, but was convinced now that nobody was going to attack him. They had had their chance as he walked alone through the forest, had had plenty of opportunity as he examined the pool. The only reason to delay at this point was because the immediate prospect was so deeply uninviting. With fumbling fingers Harry started to remove his many layers of clothing. Where chivalry entered into this, he thought ruefully, he was not entirely sure, unless it counted as chivalrous that he was not calling for Hermione to do it in his stead. An owl hooted somewhere as he stripped off, and he thought with a pang of Hedwig. He was shivering now, his teeth chattering horribly, and yet he continued to strip off until at last he stood there in his underwear, barefooted in the snow. He placed the pouch containing his wand, his mothers letter, the shard of Siriuss mirror, and the old Snitch on top of his clothes, then he pointed Hermiones wand at the ice. Diffindo. It cracked with a sound like a bullet in the silence: The surface of the pool broke and chunks of dark ice rocked on the ruffled water. As far as Harry could judge, it was not deep, but to retrieve the sword he would have to submerge himself completely. Contemplating the task ahead would not make it easier or click at this page water warmer. He stepped to the pools edge and placed Hermiones wand on the ground, still lit. Then, trying not to imagine how much colder he was about to become or how violently he would soon be shivering, he jumped. Every pore of his body screamed in protest: The very air in his lungs seemed to freeze solid as he was submerged to his shoulders in the frozen water. He could hardly breathe; trembling so violently the water lapped over the edges of the pool, he felt for the blade with his numb feet. He only wanted to dive once. Harry put off the moment of total submersion from second to second, gasping and shaking, until he told himself that it must be done, gathered all his courage, and dived. The cold was agony: It attacked him like fire. His brain itself seemed to have frozen as he pushed through the dark water to the bottom and reached How to refund on steam deck, groping for the sword. His fingers closed around the hilt; he pulled it upward. Then something closed tight around his neck. He thought of water weeds, though nothing had brushed him as he dived, and raised his empty hand to free himself. It was not weed: The chain of the Horcrux had tightened and was slowly constricting his windpipe. Harry kicked out wildly, trying to push himself back to the surface, but merely propelled himself into the rocky side of the pool. Thrashing, suffocating, he scrabbled at the strangling chain, his frozen fingers unable to loosen it, and now little lights were popping inside his head, and he was going to drown, there was nothing left, nothing he could do, and the arms that closed around his chest were surely Deaths. Choking and retching, soaking and colder than he had ever been in his life, he came to facedown in the snow. Somewhere close by, another person was panting and coughing and staggering around. Hermione had come again, as she had come when the snake attacked. Yet it did not sound like her, not with those deep coughs, not judging by the weight of the footsteps. Harry had no strength to lift his head and see his saviors identity. All he could do was raise a shaking hand to his throat and feel the place where the locket had cut tightly into his flesh. It was gone: Someone had cut him free. Then a panting voice spoke from over his head. Are - you - mental. Nothing but the shock of hearing that voice could have given Harry the strength to get up. Shivering violently, he staggered to his feet. There before him stood Ron, fully dressed but drenched to the skin, his hair plastered to his face, the sword of Gryffindor in one hand and the Horcrux dangling from its broken chain in the other. Why the hell, panted Ron, holding up the Horcrux, which swung backward and forward on its shortened chain in some parody of hypnosis, didnt you take this thing off before you dived. Harry could not answer. The silver doe was nothing, nothing compared with Rons reappearance; he could not believe it. Shuddering with cold, he caught up the pile of clothes still lying at the waters edge and began to pull them on. As he dragged sweater after sweater over his head, Harry stared at Ron, half expecting him to have disappeared every time he lost sight of him, and yet he had to be real: He had just dived into the pool, he had saved Harrys life. It was y-you. Harry said at last, his teeth chattering, his voice weaker than usual due to his near-strangulation. Well, yeah, said Ron, looking slightly confused. Y-you cast that doe. What. No, of course not. I thought it was you doing it. My Patronus is a stag. Oh yeah. I thought it looked different. No antlers. Harry put Hagrids pouch back around his neck, pulled on a final sweater, stooped to pick up Hermiones wand, and faced Ron again. How come youre here. Apparently Ron had hoped that this point would come up later, if at all. Well, Ive - you know - Ive come back. If - He cleared his throat. You know. You still want me. There was a pause, in which the subject of Rons departure seemed to rise like a wall between them. Yet he was here. He had returned. He had just saved Harrys life. Ron looked down at his hands. He seemed momentarily surprised to see the things he was holding. Oh yeah, I got it https://strategygamespc.cloud/pubg-game/pubg-game-zoom-questions.php, he said, rather unnecessarily, holding up the sword for Harrys inspection. Thats why you jumped in, right. Yeah, said Harry. But I dont understand. How did you get here. How did you find us. Long story, said Ron. Ive been looking for you for hours, its a big forest, isnt it. And I was just thinking Id have to kip under a tree and wait for morning when I saw that deer coming and you following. You didnt see anyone else. No, said Ron. I - But he hesitated, glancing at two trees growing close together some yards away. I did think I saw something move over there, but I was running to the pool at the time, because youd gone in and you hadnt come up, so I wasnt going to make a detour to - hey. Harry was already hurrying to the place Ron had indicated. The two oaks grew close together; there was a gap of only a few inches between the trunks at eye level, an ideal place to see but not be seen. The ground around the roots, however, was free of snow, and Harry could see no sign of footprints. He walked back to where Ron stood waiting, still holding the sword and the Horcrux. Anything there. Ron asked. No, said Harry. So how did the sword get in that pool. Whoever cast the Patronus must have put it there. They both looked at the ornate silver sword, its rubied hilt glinting a little in the light from Hermiones wand. You reckon this is the real one. asked Ron. One way to find out, isnt there. said Harry. The Horcrux was call of duty games old swinging from Rons hand. The locket was twitching slightly. Harry knew that the thing inside it was agitated again. It had sensed the presence of the sword and had tried to kill Harry rather than let him possess it. Now was not the time for long discussions; now was the moment to destroy the locket once and for all. Harry looked around, holding Hermiones wand high, and saw the place: a flattish rock lying in the shadow of a sycamore tree. Come here, he said, and he led the way, brushed snow from the rocks surface, and held out his hand for the Horcrux. When Ron offered the sword, however, Harry shook his head. No, you should do it. said Ron, looking shocked. Why. Because you got the sword out of the pool. I think its supposed to be you. He was not being kind or generous. As certainly as he had known that the doe was benign, he knew that Ron had to be the one to wield the sword.

I want the truth about what happened tonight. barked Uncle Vernon. If it was demenders who hurt Dudley, how come youve been expelled. You did you-know-what, youve admitted it. Harry took a deep, steadying breath. His head was beginning to ache again. He wanted more than anything to get out of the kitchen, away from the Dursleys. I did the Patronus Charm to get rid of the dementors, he said, forcing himself to remain calm. Its the only thing that works against them. But what were dementoids doing in Little Whinging. said Uncle Vernon in tones of outrage. Couldnt tell you, said Harry wearily. No idea. His head was pounding in the glare of the strip lighting now. His anger was ebbing away. He felt drained, Rust game hosting servers xbox one. The Dursleys were all staring at him. Its you, said Uncle Vernon forcefully. Its got something to do with you, boy, I know it. Why else would they turn up here. Why else would they be down that Rudt. Youve got to be the only - the only - Evidently he couldnt bring himself to say the word wizard. The Rust game hosting servers xbox one you-know-what for miles. I dont know why they were here srvers. But at these words of Uncle Vernons, Harrys exhausted brain ground back into action. Why had the dementors come to Little Whinging. How could it be coincidence that they agme arrived in the alleyway where Harry was. Had they been sent. Had the Ministry of Magic lost control of the dementors, had they deserted Azkaban and joined Voldemort, as Dumbledore hoting predicted they would. These demembers guard some weirdos prison. said Uncle Vernon, lumbering in the wake of Harrys train of thought. Yes, said Harry. If only his head would stop hurting, if only he could just leave the Rust game hosting servers xbox one and get to his dark bedroom and think. Oho. They were coming to arrest you. said Uncle Vernon, with the triumphant air of a man reaching an unassailable conclusion. Thats it, isnt it, boy. Youre on the run from the law. Of course Im not, said Harry, shaking his head as though to scare off a fly, his mind racing now. Then why -. He must have sent them, said Harry quietly, more to himself than to Uncle Vernon. Whats that. Who must have sent them. Lord Voldemort, said Harry. He registered more info how strange it was that the Dursleys, who flinched, winced, and squawked if they heard words like wizard, magic, or wand, could hear the name of the most https://strategygamespc.cloud/free/pubg-game-download-pc-windows-10-free.php wizard of all time without the slightest tremor. Lord - hang on, said Uncle Vernon, his face screwed up, a look of hostung comprehension in his piggy eyes. Ive heard that name. that was the one who. Murdered my parents, yes, Harry said. But hes gone, please click for source Uncle Vernon impatiently, without the slightest sign that the murder of Harrys parents might be a painful topic to anybody. That giant bloke said so. Hes gone. Pubg game description using back, said Harry heavily. It felt very strange to be standing here in Aunt Petunias surgically clean kitchen, beside the top-of-the-range fridge and the wide-screen television, and talking calmly of Lord Voldemort to Uncle Vernon. The arrival of the dementors in Little Whinging seemed to have caused a breach https://strategygamespc.cloud/baldurs-gate/baldurs-gate-3-fighter-killer.php the great, invisible wall that divided the relentlessly non-magical Rust game hosting servers xbox one of Privet Drive and the world beyond. Harrys two lives had somehow become fused and everything had been turned upside down: The Dursleys were asking for details about the magical world and Mrs. Figg knew Albus Dumbledore; dementors were soaring around Little Whinging and he might never go back to Hogwarts. Harrys head throbbed more painfully. Back. whispered Aunt Petunia. She was looking at Harry as oone had never looked at him before. And all of a sudden, uRst the very first time in his life, Harry fully appreciated that Aunt Petunia was his mothers sister.