“I think Mum thinks that if she can stop the three of you getting together and planning, she’ll be able to delay you leaving,” Ginny told Harry in an undertone, as they laid the table for dinner on the third night of his stay.
“And then what does she think’s going to happen?” Harry muttered. “Someone else might kill off Voldemort while she’s holding us here making vol-au-vents?”
He had spoken without thinking, and saw Ginny’s face whiten.
“So it’s true?” she said. “That’s what you’re trying to do?”
“I – not – I was joking,” said Harry evasively.
They stared at each other, and there was something more than shock in Ginny’s expression. Suddenly Harry became aware that this was the first time that he had been alone with her since those stolen hours in secluded corners of the Hogwarts grounds. He was sure she was remembering them too. Both of them jumped as the door opened, and Mr. Weasley, Kingsley, and Bill walked in.
They were often joined by other Order members for dinner now, because the Burrow had replaced number twelve, Grimmauld Place as the headquarters. Mr. Weasley had explained that after the death of Dumbledore, their Secret-Keeper, each of the people to whom Dumbledore had confided Grimmauld Place’s location had become a Secret-Keeper in turn.
“And as there are around twenty of us, that greatly dilutes the power of the Fidelius Charm. Twenty times as many opportunities for the Death Eaters to get the secret out of somebody. We can’t expect it to hold much longer.”
“But surely Snape will have told the Death Eaters the address by now?” asked Harry.
“Well, Mad-Eye set up a couple of curses against Snape in case he turns up there again. We hope they’ll be strong enough both to keep him out and to bind his tongue if he tries to talk about the place, but we can’t be sure. It would have been insane to keep using the place as headquarters now that its protection has become so shaky.”
The kitchen was so crowded that evening it was difficult to maneuver knives and forks. Harry found himself crammed beside Ginny; the unsaid things that had just passed between them made him wish they had been separated by a few more people. He was trying so hard to avoid brushing her arm he could barely cut his chicken.
“No news about Mad-Eye?” Harry asked Bill.
“Nothing,” replied Bill.
They had not been able to hold a funeral for Moody, because Bill and Lupin had failed to recover his body. It had been difficult to know where he might have fallen, given the darkness and the confusion of the battle.
“The Daily Prophet hasn’t said a word about him dying or about finding the body,” Bill went on. “But that doesn’t mean much. It’s keeping a lot quiet these days.”
“And they still haven’t called a hearing about all the underage magic I used escaping the Death Eaters?” Harry called across the table to Mr. Weasley, who shook his head.
“Because they know I had no choice or because they don’t want me to tell the world Voldemort attacked me?”
“The latter, I think. Scrimgeour doesn’t want to admit that You-Know-Who is as powerful as he is, nor that Azkaban’s seen a mass breakout.”
“Yeah, why tell the public the truth?” said Harry, clenching his knife so tightly that the faint scars on the back of his right hand stood out, white against his skin: I must not tell lies.
“Isn’t anyone at the Ministry prepared to stand up to him?” asked Ron angrily.
“Of course, Ron, but people are terrified,” Mr. Weasley replied, “terrified that they will be next to disappear, their children the next to be attacked! There are nasty rumors going around; I for one don’t believe the Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts resigned. She hasn’t been seen for weeks now. Meanwhile Scrimgeour remains shut up in his office all day; I just hope he’s working on a plan.”
There was a pause in which Mrs. Weasley magicked the empty plates onto the work surface and served apple tart.
“We must decide ‘ow you will be disguised, ‘Arry,” said Fleur, once everyone had pudding. “For ze wedding,” she added, when he looked confused. “Of course, none of our guests are Death Eaters, but we cannot guarantee zat zey will not let something slip after zey ‘ave ‘ad champagne.”
From this, Harry gathered that she still suspected Hagrid.
“Yes, good point,” said Mrs. Weasley from the top of the table where she sat, spectacles perched on the end of her nose, scanning an immense list of jobs that she had scribbled on a very long piece of parchment. “Now, Ron, have you cleaned out your room yet?”
“Why?” exclaimed Ron, slamming his spoon down and glaring at his mother. “Why does my room have to be cleaned out? Harry and I are fine with it the way it is!”
“We are holding your brother’s wedding here in a few days’ time, young man – ”
“And are they getting married in my bedroom?” asked Ron furiously. “No! So why in the name of Merlin’s saggy left – ”
“Don’t talk to your mother like that,” said Mr. Weasley firmly. “And do as you’re told.”
Ron scowled at both his parents, then picked up his spoon and attacked the last few mouthfuls of his apple tart.
“I can help, some of it’s my mess.” Harry told Ron, but Mrs. Weasley cut across him.
“No, Harry, dear, I’d much rather you helped Arthur much out the chickens, and Hermione, I’d be ever so grateful if you’d change the sheets for Monsieur and Madame Delacour; you know they’re arriving at eleven tomorrow morning.”
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Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
Their eyes met over the basin
Their eyes met over the basin, each pale face lit with that strange, green light. Harry did not speak. Was this why he had been invited along—so that he could force-
feed Dumbledore a potion that might cause him unendurable pain?
“You remember,” said Dumbledore, “the condition on which I brought you with me?”
Harry hesitated, looking into the blue eyes that had turned green in the reflected light of the basin.
“But what if—?”
“You swore, did you not, to follow any command I gave you?”
“Yes, but—”
“I warned you, did I not, that there might be danger?”
“Yes,” said Harry, “but —”
“Well, then,” said Dumbledore, shaking back his sleeves once more and raising the empty goblet, “you have my orders.”
“Why can't I drink the potion instead?” asked Harry desperately.
“Because I am much older, much cleverer, and much less valuable,” said Dumbledore. “Once and for all, Harry, do I have your word that you will do all in your power
to make me keep drinking?”
“Couldn't—?”
“Do I have it?”
“But—”
“Your word, Harry.”
“I —all right, but—”
Before Harry could make any further protest, Dumbledore lowered the crystal goblet into the potion. For a split second, Harry hoped that he would not be able to touch
the potion with the goblet, but the crystal sank into the surface as nothing else had; when the glass was full to the brim, Dumbledore lifted it to his mouth.
“Your good health, Harry.”
And he drained the goblet. Harry watched, terrified, his hands gripping the rim of the basin so hard that his fingertips were numb.
“Professor?” he said anxiously, as Dumbledore lowered the empty glass. “How do you feel?”
Dumbledore shook his head, his eyes closed. Harry wondered whether he was in pain. Dumbledore plunged the glass blindly back into the basin, refilled it, and drank once
more.
In silence, Dumbledore drank three gobletsful of the potion. Then, halfway through the fourth goblet, he staggered and fell forward against the basin. His eyes were
still closed, his breathing heavy.
feed Dumbledore a potion that might cause him unendurable pain?
“You remember,” said Dumbledore, “the condition on which I brought you with me?”
Harry hesitated, looking into the blue eyes that had turned green in the reflected light of the basin.
“But what if—?”
“You swore, did you not, to follow any command I gave you?”
“Yes, but—”
“I warned you, did I not, that there might be danger?”
“Yes,” said Harry, “but —”
“Well, then,” said Dumbledore, shaking back his sleeves once more and raising the empty goblet, “you have my orders.”
“Why can't I drink the potion instead?” asked Harry desperately.
“Because I am much older, much cleverer, and much less valuable,” said Dumbledore. “Once and for all, Harry, do I have your word that you will do all in your power
to make me keep drinking?”
“Couldn't—?”
“Do I have it?”
“But—”
“Your word, Harry.”
“I —all right, but—”
Before Harry could make any further protest, Dumbledore lowered the crystal goblet into the potion. For a split second, Harry hoped that he would not be able to touch
the potion with the goblet, but the crystal sank into the surface as nothing else had; when the glass was full to the brim, Dumbledore lifted it to his mouth.
“Your good health, Harry.”
And he drained the goblet. Harry watched, terrified, his hands gripping the rim of the basin so hard that his fingertips were numb.
“Professor?” he said anxiously, as Dumbledore lowered the empty glass. “How do you feel?”
Dumbledore shook his head, his eyes closed. Harry wondered whether he was in pain. Dumbledore plunged the glass blindly back into the basin, refilled it, and drank once
more.
In silence, Dumbledore drank three gobletsful of the potion. Then, halfway through the fourth goblet, he staggered and fell forward against the basin. His eyes were
still closed, his breathing heavy.
“I cannot touch,” said Dumbledore
“I cannot touch,” said Dumbledore, smiling faintly. “See? I cannot approach any nearer than this. You try.”
Staring, Harry put his hand into the basin and attempted to touch the potion. He met an invisible barrier that prevented him coming within an inch of it. No matter how
hard he pushed, his fingers encountered nothing but what seemed to be solid and flexible air.
“Out of the way, please, Harry,” said Dumbledore.
He raised his wand and made complicated movements over the surface of the-potion, murmuring soundlessly. Nothing happened, except per haps that the potion glowed a
little brighter. Harry remained silent while Dumbledore worked, but after a while Dumbledore withdrew his wand, and Harry felt it was safe to talk again.
“You think the Horcrux is in there, sir?”
“Oh yes.” Dumbledore peered more closely into the basin. Harry saw his face reflected, upside down, in the smooth surface of the green potion. “But how to reach it?
This potion cannot be penetrated by hand, Vanished, parted, scooped up, or siphoned away, nor can it be Transfigured, Charmed, or otherwise made to change its nature.”
Almost absent-mindedly, Dumbledore raised his wand again, twirled it once in midair, and then caught the crystal goblet that he had conjured out of nowhere.
“I can only conclude that this potion is supposed to be drunk.”
“What?” said Harry. “No!”
“Yes, I think so: only by drinking it can I empty the basin and see what lies in its depths.”
“But what if— what if it kills you?”
“Oh, I doubt that it would work like that,” said Dumbledore easily. “Lord Voldemort would not want to kill the person who reached this island.”
Harry couldn't believe it. Was this more of Dumbledore's insane determination to see good in everyone?
“Sir,” said Harry, trying to keep his voice reasonable, “sir, this is Voldemort we're —”
“I'm sorry, Harry; I should have said, he would not want to immediately kill the person who reached this island,” Dumbledore corrected himself. “He would want to
keep them alive long enough to find out how they managed to penetrate so far through his defenses and, most importantly of all, why they were so intent upon emptying
the basin. Do not forget that Lord Voldemort believes that he alone knows about his Horcruxes.”
Harry made to speak again, but this time Dumbledore raised his hand for silence, frowning slightly at the emerald liquid, evidently thinking hard.
“Undoubtedly,” he said, finally, “this potion must act in a way that will prevent me taking the Horcrux. It might paralyze me, cause me to forget what I am here for,
create so much pain I am distracted, or render me incapable in some other way. This being the case, Harry, it will be your job to make sure I keep drinking, even if you
have to tip the potion into my protesting mouth. You understand?”
Staring, Harry put his hand into the basin and attempted to touch the potion. He met an invisible barrier that prevented him coming within an inch of it. No matter how
hard he pushed, his fingers encountered nothing but what seemed to be solid and flexible air.
“Out of the way, please, Harry,” said Dumbledore.
He raised his wand and made complicated movements over the surface of the-potion, murmuring soundlessly. Nothing happened, except per haps that the potion glowed a
little brighter. Harry remained silent while Dumbledore worked, but after a while Dumbledore withdrew his wand, and Harry felt it was safe to talk again.
“You think the Horcrux is in there, sir?”
“Oh yes.” Dumbledore peered more closely into the basin. Harry saw his face reflected, upside down, in the smooth surface of the green potion. “But how to reach it?
This potion cannot be penetrated by hand, Vanished, parted, scooped up, or siphoned away, nor can it be Transfigured, Charmed, or otherwise made to change its nature.”
Almost absent-mindedly, Dumbledore raised his wand again, twirled it once in midair, and then caught the crystal goblet that he had conjured out of nowhere.
“I can only conclude that this potion is supposed to be drunk.”
“What?” said Harry. “No!”
“Yes, I think so: only by drinking it can I empty the basin and see what lies in its depths.”
“But what if— what if it kills you?”
“Oh, I doubt that it would work like that,” said Dumbledore easily. “Lord Voldemort would not want to kill the person who reached this island.”
Harry couldn't believe it. Was this more of Dumbledore's insane determination to see good in everyone?
“Sir,” said Harry, trying to keep his voice reasonable, “sir, this is Voldemort we're —”
“I'm sorry, Harry; I should have said, he would not want to immediately kill the person who reached this island,” Dumbledore corrected himself. “He would want to
keep them alive long enough to find out how they managed to penetrate so far through his defenses and, most importantly of all, why they were so intent upon emptying
the basin. Do not forget that Lord Voldemort believes that he alone knows about his Horcruxes.”
Harry made to speak again, but this time Dumbledore raised his hand for silence, frowning slightly at the emerald liquid, evidently thinking hard.
“Undoubtedly,” he said, finally, “this potion must act in a way that will prevent me taking the Horcrux. It might paralyze me, cause me to forget what I am here for,
create so much pain I am distracted, or render me incapable in some other way. This being the case, Harry, it will be your job to make sure I keep drinking, even if you
have to tip the potion into my protesting mouth. You understand?”
“There are bodies in here!
“There are bodies in here!” said Harry, and his voice sounded much higher than usual and most unlike his own.
“Yes,” said Dumbledore placidly, “but we do not need to worry about them at the moment.”
“At the moment?” Harry repeated, tearing his gaze from the water to look at Dumbledore.
“Not while they are merely drifting peacefully below us,” said Dumbledore. “There is nothing to be feared from a body, Harry, any more than there is anything to be
feared from the darkness. Lord Voldemort, who of course secretly fears both, disagrees. But once again he reveals his own lack of wisdom. It is the unknown we fear when
we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.”
Harry said nothing; he did not want to argue, but he found the idea that there were bodies floating around them and beneath them horrible and, what was more, he did not
believe that they were not dangerous.
“But one of them jumped,” he said, trying to make his voice as level and calm as Dumbledore's. “When I tried to Summon the Horcrux, a body leapt out of the lake.”
“Yes,” said Dumbledore. “I am sure that once we take the Horcrux, we shall find them less peaceable. However, like many creatures that dwell in cold and darkness,
they fear light and warmth, which we shall therefore call to our aid should the need arise. Fire, Harry,” Dumbledore added with a smile, in response to Harry's
bewildered expression.
“Oh... right...” said Harry quickly. He turned his head to look at the greenish glow toward which the boat was still inexorably sailing. He could not pretend now that
he was not scared. The great black lake, teeming with the dead ... it seemed hours and hours ago that he had met Professor Trelawney, that he had given Ron and Hermione
Felix Felicis... he suddenly wished he had said a better goodbye to the... and he hadn't seen Ginny at all...
“Nearly there,” said Dumbledore cheerfully.
Sure enough, the greenish light seemed to be growing larger at last, and within minutes, the boat had come to a halt, bumping gently into something that Harry could not
see at first, but when he raised his illuminated wand he saw that they had reached a small island of smooth rock in the center of the lake.
“Careful not to touch the water,” said Dumbledore again as Harry climbed out of the boat.
The island was no larger than Dumbledore's office, an expanse of flat dark stone on which stood nothing but the source of that greenish light, which looked much
brighter when viewed close to. Harry squinted at it; at first, he thought it was a lamp of some kind, but then he saw that the light was coming from a stone basin
rather like the Pensieve, which was set on top of a pedestal.
Dumbledore approached the basin and Harry followed. Side by side, they looked down into it. The basin was full of an emerald liquid emitting that phosphorescent glow.
“What is it?” asked Harry quietly.
“I am not sure,” said Dumbledore. “Something more worrisome than blood and bodies, however.” Dumbledore pushed back the sleeve of his robe over his blackened hand,
and stretched out the tips of his burned fingers toward the surface of the potion.
“Sir, no, don't touch—!”
“Yes,” said Dumbledore placidly, “but we do not need to worry about them at the moment.”
“At the moment?” Harry repeated, tearing his gaze from the water to look at Dumbledore.
“Not while they are merely drifting peacefully below us,” said Dumbledore. “There is nothing to be feared from a body, Harry, any more than there is anything to be
feared from the darkness. Lord Voldemort, who of course secretly fears both, disagrees. But once again he reveals his own lack of wisdom. It is the unknown we fear when
we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.”
Harry said nothing; he did not want to argue, but he found the idea that there were bodies floating around them and beneath them horrible and, what was more, he did not
believe that they were not dangerous.
“But one of them jumped,” he said, trying to make his voice as level and calm as Dumbledore's. “When I tried to Summon the Horcrux, a body leapt out of the lake.”
“Yes,” said Dumbledore. “I am sure that once we take the Horcrux, we shall find them less peaceable. However, like many creatures that dwell in cold and darkness,
they fear light and warmth, which we shall therefore call to our aid should the need arise. Fire, Harry,” Dumbledore added with a smile, in response to Harry's
bewildered expression.
“Oh... right...” said Harry quickly. He turned his head to look at the greenish glow toward which the boat was still inexorably sailing. He could not pretend now that
he was not scared. The great black lake, teeming with the dead ... it seemed hours and hours ago that he had met Professor Trelawney, that he had given Ron and Hermione
Felix Felicis... he suddenly wished he had said a better goodbye to the... and he hadn't seen Ginny at all...
“Nearly there,” said Dumbledore cheerfully.
Sure enough, the greenish light seemed to be growing larger at last, and within minutes, the boat had come to a halt, bumping gently into something that Harry could not
see at first, but when he raised his illuminated wand he saw that they had reached a small island of smooth rock in the center of the lake.
“Careful not to touch the water,” said Dumbledore again as Harry climbed out of the boat.
The island was no larger than Dumbledore's office, an expanse of flat dark stone on which stood nothing but the source of that greenish light, which looked much
brighter when viewed close to. Harry squinted at it; at first, he thought it was a lamp of some kind, but then he saw that the light was coming from a stone basin
rather like the Pensieve, which was set on top of a pedestal.
Dumbledore approached the basin and Harry followed. Side by side, they looked down into it. The basin was full of an emerald liquid emitting that phosphorescent glow.
“What is it?” asked Harry quietly.
“I am not sure,” said Dumbledore. “Something more worrisome than blood and bodies, however.” Dumbledore pushed back the sleeve of his robe over his blackened hand,
and stretched out the tips of his burned fingers toward the surface of the potion.
“Sir, no, don't touch—!”
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Filich's expression of outraged disappointment
Filich's expression of outraged disappointment was perfectly predictable; but why, Harry wondered, watching him, did Malfoy look almost equally unhappy? And why was
Snape looking at Malfoy as though both angry and... was it possible? ... a little afraid?
But almost before Harry had registered what he had seen, Filch had turned and shuffled away, muttering under his breath; Malfoy had composed his face into a smile and
was thanking Slughorn for his generosity, and Snape's face was smoothly inscrutable again.
“It's nothing, nothing,” said Slughorn, waving away Malfoy's thanks. “I did know your grandfather, after all....”
“He always spoke very highly of you, sir,” said Malfoy quickly. “Said you were the best potion-maker he'd ever known...”
Harry stared at Malfoy. It was not the sucking-up that intrigued him; he had watched Malfoy do that to Snape for a long time. It was the fact that Malfoy did, after
all, look a little ill. This was the first time he had seen Malfoy close up for ages; he now saw that Malfoy had dark shadows under his eyes and a distinctly grayish
tinge to his skin.
“I'd like a word with you, Draco,” said Snape suddenly.
“Now, Severus,” said Slughorn, hiccuping again, “it's Christmas, don't be too hard—”
“I'm his Head of House, and I shall decide how hard, or otherwise, to be,” said Snape curtly. “Follow me, Draco.”
They left, Snape leading the way, Malfoy looking resentful. Harry stood there for a moment, irresolute, then said, “I'll be back in a bit, Luna—er—bathroom.”
“All right,” she said cheerfully, and he thought he heard her, as he hurried off into the crowd, resume the subject of the Rotfang Conspiracy with Professor
Trelawney, who seemed sincerely interested.
It was easy, once out of the party, to pull his Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket and throw it over himself, for the corridor was quite deserted. What was more
difficult was finding Snape and Malfoy. Harry ran down the corridor, the noise of his feet masked by the music and loud talk still issuing from Slughorn's office behind
him. Perhaps Snape had taken Malfoy to his office in the dungeons ... or perhaps he was escorting him back to the Slytherin common room... Harry pressed his ear against
door after door as he dashed down the corridor until, with a great jolt of excitement, he crouched down to the keyhole of the last classroom in the corridor and heard
voices.
“... cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled —”
“I didn't have anything to do with it, all right?”
“I hope you are telling the truth, because it was both clumsy and foolish. Already you are suspected of having a hand in it.”
“Who suspects me?” said Malfoy angrily. “For the last time, I didn't do it, okay? That Bell girl must've had an enemy no one knows about—don't look at me like that!
I know what you're doing, I'm not stupid, but it won't work—I can stop you!”
There was a pause and then Snape said quietly, “Ah... Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency, I see. What thoughts are you trying to conceal from your master,
Draco?”
“I'm not trying to conceal anything from him, I just don't want you butting in!”
Harry pressed his ear still more closely against the keyhole... what had happened to make Malfoy speak to Snape like this—Snape, toward whom he had always shown
respect, even liking?
Snape looking at Malfoy as though both angry and... was it possible? ... a little afraid?
But almost before Harry had registered what he had seen, Filch had turned and shuffled away, muttering under his breath; Malfoy had composed his face into a smile and
was thanking Slughorn for his generosity, and Snape's face was smoothly inscrutable again.
“It's nothing, nothing,” said Slughorn, waving away Malfoy's thanks. “I did know your grandfather, after all....”
“He always spoke very highly of you, sir,” said Malfoy quickly. “Said you were the best potion-maker he'd ever known...”
Harry stared at Malfoy. It was not the sucking-up that intrigued him; he had watched Malfoy do that to Snape for a long time. It was the fact that Malfoy did, after
all, look a little ill. This was the first time he had seen Malfoy close up for ages; he now saw that Malfoy had dark shadows under his eyes and a distinctly grayish
tinge to his skin.
“I'd like a word with you, Draco,” said Snape suddenly.
“Now, Severus,” said Slughorn, hiccuping again, “it's Christmas, don't be too hard—”
“I'm his Head of House, and I shall decide how hard, or otherwise, to be,” said Snape curtly. “Follow me, Draco.”
They left, Snape leading the way, Malfoy looking resentful. Harry stood there for a moment, irresolute, then said, “I'll be back in a bit, Luna—er—bathroom.”
“All right,” she said cheerfully, and he thought he heard her, as he hurried off into the crowd, resume the subject of the Rotfang Conspiracy with Professor
Trelawney, who seemed sincerely interested.
It was easy, once out of the party, to pull his Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket and throw it over himself, for the corridor was quite deserted. What was more
difficult was finding Snape and Malfoy. Harry ran down the corridor, the noise of his feet masked by the music and loud talk still issuing from Slughorn's office behind
him. Perhaps Snape had taken Malfoy to his office in the dungeons ... or perhaps he was escorting him back to the Slytherin common room... Harry pressed his ear against
door after door as he dashed down the corridor until, with a great jolt of excitement, he crouched down to the keyhole of the last classroom in the corridor and heard
voices.
“... cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled —”
“I didn't have anything to do with it, all right?”
“I hope you are telling the truth, because it was both clumsy and foolish. Already you are suspected of having a hand in it.”
“Who suspects me?” said Malfoy angrily. “For the last time, I didn't do it, okay? That Bell girl must've had an enemy no one knows about—don't look at me like that!
I know what you're doing, I'm not stupid, but it won't work—I can stop you!”
There was a pause and then Snape said quietly, “Ah... Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency, I see. What thoughts are you trying to conceal from your master,
Draco?”
“I'm not trying to conceal anything from him, I just don't want you butting in!”
Harry pressed his ear still more closely against the keyhole... what had happened to make Malfoy speak to Snape like this—Snape, toward whom he had always shown
respect, even liking?
And to Harry's horror, Slughorn threw out an arm and seemed
And to Harry's horror, Slughorn threw out an arm and seemed to scoop Snape out of thin air toward them.
“Stop skulking and come and join us, Severus!” hiccuped Slughorn happily. “I was just talking about Harry's exceptional potion-making! Some credit must go to you, of
course, you taught him for five years!”
Trapped, with Slughorn's arm around his shoulders, Snape looked down his hooked nose at Harry, his black eyes narrowed.
“Funny, I never had the impression that I managed to teach Potter anything at all.”
“Well, then, it's natural ability!” shouted Slughorn. “You should have seen what he gave me, first lesson, Draught of Living Death—never had a student produce finer
on a first attempt, I don't think even you, Severus —”
“Really?” said Snape quietly, his eyes still boring into Harry, who felt a certain disquiet. The last thing he wanted was for Snape to start investigating the source
of his newfound brilliance at Potions.
“Remind me what other subjects you're taking, Harry?” asked Slughorn .
“Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology...”
“All the subjects required, in short, for an Auror ,” said Snape with the faintest sneer.
“Yeah, well, that's what I'd like to do,” said Harry defiantly.
“And a great one you'll make too!” boomed Slughorn.
“I don't think you should be an Auror, Harry,” said Luna unexpectedly. Everybody looked at her. “The Aurors are part of the Rotfang Conspiracy, I thought everyone
knew that. They're planning to bring down the Ministry of Magic from within using a combination of Dark Magic and gum disease.”
Harry inhaled half his mead up his nose as he started to laugh. Really, it had been worth bringing Luna just for this. Emerging, from his goblet, coughing, sopping wet
but still grinning, he saw something calculated to raise his spirits even higher: Draco Malfoy... being dragged by the ear toward them by Argus Filch.
“Professor Slughorn,” wheezed Filch, his jowls aquiver and the maniacal light of mischief-detection in his bulging eyes, “I discovered this boy lurking in an
upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and to have been delayed in setting out. Did you issue him with an invitation?”
Malfoy pulled himself free of Filch's grip, looking furious.
“All right, I wasn't invited!” he said angrily. “I was trying to gatecrash, happy?”
“No, I'm not!” said Filch, a statement at complete odds with the glee on his face. “You're in trouble, you are! Didn't the Headmaster say that night-time prowling is
out, unless you've got permission, didn't he, eh?”
“That's all right, Argus, that's all right,” said Slughorn, waving a hand. “It's Christmas, and it's not a crime to want to come to a party. Just this once, we'll
forget any punishment; you may stay, Draco.”
“Stop skulking and come and join us, Severus!” hiccuped Slughorn happily. “I was just talking about Harry's exceptional potion-making! Some credit must go to you, of
course, you taught him for five years!”
Trapped, with Slughorn's arm around his shoulders, Snape looked down his hooked nose at Harry, his black eyes narrowed.
“Funny, I never had the impression that I managed to teach Potter anything at all.”
“Well, then, it's natural ability!” shouted Slughorn. “You should have seen what he gave me, first lesson, Draught of Living Death—never had a student produce finer
on a first attempt, I don't think even you, Severus —”
“Really?” said Snape quietly, his eyes still boring into Harry, who felt a certain disquiet. The last thing he wanted was for Snape to start investigating the source
of his newfound brilliance at Potions.
“Remind me what other subjects you're taking, Harry?” asked Slughorn .
“Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology...”
“All the subjects required, in short, for an Auror ,” said Snape with the faintest sneer.
“Yeah, well, that's what I'd like to do,” said Harry defiantly.
“And a great one you'll make too!” boomed Slughorn.
“I don't think you should be an Auror, Harry,” said Luna unexpectedly. Everybody looked at her. “The Aurors are part of the Rotfang Conspiracy, I thought everyone
knew that. They're planning to bring down the Ministry of Magic from within using a combination of Dark Magic and gum disease.”
Harry inhaled half his mead up his nose as he started to laugh. Really, it had been worth bringing Luna just for this. Emerging, from his goblet, coughing, sopping wet
but still grinning, he saw something calculated to raise his spirits even higher: Draco Malfoy... being dragged by the ear toward them by Argus Filch.
“Professor Slughorn,” wheezed Filch, his jowls aquiver and the maniacal light of mischief-detection in his bulging eyes, “I discovered this boy lurking in an
upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and to have been delayed in setting out. Did you issue him with an invitation?”
Malfoy pulled himself free of Filch's grip, looking furious.
“All right, I wasn't invited!” he said angrily. “I was trying to gatecrash, happy?”
“No, I'm not!” said Filch, a statement at complete odds with the glee on his face. “You're in trouble, you are! Didn't the Headmaster say that night-time prowling is
out, unless you've got permission, didn't he, eh?”
“That's all right, Argus, that's all right,” said Slughorn, waving a hand. “It's Christmas, and it's not a crime to want to come to a party. Just this once, we'll
forget any punishment; you may stay, Draco.”
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
“Well, I'm not complaining,
“Well, I'm not complaining,” said Harry, who missed neither the disturbing dreams nor the startling flashes of insight into Voldemort's 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 haven't 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 we'll 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 couldn't we just Apparate directly into your old colleague's 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 can't 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 he's 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 didn't...” 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 wasn't very clear.”
“They are corpses,” said Dumbledore calmly. “Dead bodies that have been bewitched to do a Dark wizard's 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, of 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 carefully 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.”
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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 haven't 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 we'll 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 couldn't we just Apparate directly into your old colleague's 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 can't 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 he's 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 didn't...” 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 wasn't very clear.”
“They are corpses,” said Dumbledore calmly. “Dead bodies that have been bewitched to do a Dark wizard's 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, of 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 carefully 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.”
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Monday, November 22, 2010
"Stay, stay," he began, interrupting Oblonsky
"Stay, stay," he began, interrupting Oblonsky. "You talk of his being an aristocrat. But allow me to ask what it consists in, that aristocracy of Vronsky or of anybody else, beside which I can be looked down upon? You consider Vronsky an aristocrat, but I don't. A man whose father crawled up from nothing at all by intrigue, and whose mother--God knows whom she wasn't mixed up with.... No, excuse me, but I consider myself aristocratic, and people like me, who can point back in the past to three or four honorable generations of their family, of the highest degree of breeding (talent and intellect, of course that's another matter), and have never curried favor with anyone, never depended on anyone for anything, like my father and my grandfather. And I know many such. You think it mean of me to count the trees in my forest, while you may Ryabinin a present of thirty thousand; but you get rents from your lands and I don't know what, while I don't and so I prize what's come to me from my ancestors or been won by hard work.... We are aristocrats, and not those who can only exist by favor of the powerful of this world, and who can be bought for twopence halfpenny."
"Well, but whom are you attacking? I agree with you," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, sincerely and genially; though he was aware that in the class of those who could be bought for twopence halfpenny Levin was reckoning him too. Levin's warmth gave him genuine pleasure. "Whom are you attacking? Though a good deal is not true that you say about Vronsky, but I won't talk about that. I tell you straight out, if I were you, I should go back with me to Moscow, and..."
"No; I don't know whether you know it or not, but I don't care. And I tell you--I did make an offer and was rejected, and Katerina Alexandrovna is nothing now to me but a painful and humiliating reminiscence."
"What ever for? What nonsense!"
"But we won't talk about it. Please forgive me, if I've been nasty," said Levin. Now that he had opened his heart, he became as he had been in the morning. "You're not angry with me, Stiva? Please don't be angry," he said, and smiling, he took his hand.
"Of course not; not a bit, and no reason to be. I'm glad we've spoken openly. And do you know, stand-shooting in the morning is unusually good--why not go? I couldn't sleep the night anyway, but I might go straight from shooting to the station."
"Capital."
"Well, but whom are you attacking? I agree with you," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, sincerely and genially; though he was aware that in the class of those who could be bought for twopence halfpenny Levin was reckoning him too. Levin's warmth gave him genuine pleasure. "Whom are you attacking? Though a good deal is not true that you say about Vronsky, but I won't talk about that. I tell you straight out, if I were you, I should go back with me to Moscow, and..."
"No; I don't know whether you know it or not, but I don't care. And I tell you--I did make an offer and was rejected, and Katerina Alexandrovna is nothing now to me but a painful and humiliating reminiscence."
"What ever for? What nonsense!"
"But we won't talk about it. Please forgive me, if I've been nasty," said Levin. Now that he had opened his heart, he became as he had been in the morning. "You're not angry with me, Stiva? Please don't be angry," he said, and smiling, he took his hand.
"Of course not; not a bit, and no reason to be. I'm glad we've spoken openly. And do you know, stand-shooting in the morning is unusually good--why not go? I couldn't sleep the night anyway, but I might go straight from shooting to the station."
"Capital."
Well, what should I have done? Counted every tree?"
"Of course, they must be counted. You didn't count them, but Ryabinin did. Ryabinin's children will have means of livelihood and education, while yours maybe will not!"
"Well, you must excuse me, but there's something mean in this counting. We have our business and they have theirs, and they must make their profit. Anyway, the thing's done, and there's an end of it. And here come some poached eggs, my favorite dish. And Agafea Mihalovna will give us that marvelous herb-brandy..."
Stepan Arkadyevitch sat down at the table and began joking with Agafea Mihalovna, assuring her that it was long since he had tasted such a dinner and such a supper.
"Well, you do praise it, anyway," said Agafea Mihalovna, "but Konstantin Dmitrievitch, give him what you will--a crust of bread--he'll eat it and walk away."
Though Levin tried to control himself, he was gloomy and silent. He wanted to put one question to Stepan Arkadyevitch, but he could not bring himself to the point, and could not find the words or the moment in which to put it. Stepan Arkadyevitch had gone down to his room, undressed, again washed, and attired in a nightshirt with goffered frills, he had got into bed, but Levin still lingered in his room, talking of various trifling matters, and not daring to ask what he wanted to know.
"How wonderfully they make this soap," he said gazing at a piece of soap he was handling, which Agafea Mihalovna had put ready for the visitor but Oblonsky had not used. "Only look; why, it's a work of art."
"Yes, everything's brought to such a pitch of perfection nowadays," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, with a moist and blissful yawn. "The theater, for instance, and the entertainments... a--a--a!" he yawned. "The electric light everywhere...a--a--a!"
"Yes, the electric light," said Levin. "Yes. Oh, and where's Vronsky now?" he asked suddenly, laying down the soap.
"Vronsky?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, checking his yawn; "he's in Petersburg. He left soon after you did, and he's not once been in Moscow since. And do you know, Kostya, I'll tell you the truth," he went on, leaning his elbow on the table, and propping on his hand his handsome ruddy face, in which his moist, good-natured, sleepy eyes shone like stars. "It's your own fault. You took fright at the sight of your rival. But, as I told you at the time, I couldn't say which had the better chance. Why didn't you fight it out? I told you at the time that...." He yawned inwardly, without opening his mouth.
"Does he know, or doesn't he, that I did make an offer?" Levin wondered, gazing at him. "Yes, there's something humbugging, diplomatic in his face," and feeling he was blushing, he looked Stepan Arkadyevitch straight in the face without speaking.
"If there was anything on her side at the time, it was nothing but a superficial attraction," pursued Oblonsky. "His being such a perfect aristocrat, don't you know, and his future position in society, had an influence not with her, but with her mother."
Levin scowled. The humiliation of his rejection stung him to the heart, as though it were a fresh wound he had only just received. But he was at home, and the walls of home are a support.
"Well, you must excuse me, but there's something mean in this counting. We have our business and they have theirs, and they must make their profit. Anyway, the thing's done, and there's an end of it. And here come some poached eggs, my favorite dish. And Agafea Mihalovna will give us that marvelous herb-brandy..."
Stepan Arkadyevitch sat down at the table and began joking with Agafea Mihalovna, assuring her that it was long since he had tasted such a dinner and such a supper.
"Well, you do praise it, anyway," said Agafea Mihalovna, "but Konstantin Dmitrievitch, give him what you will--a crust of bread--he'll eat it and walk away."
Though Levin tried to control himself, he was gloomy and silent. He wanted to put one question to Stepan Arkadyevitch, but he could not bring himself to the point, and could not find the words or the moment in which to put it. Stepan Arkadyevitch had gone down to his room, undressed, again washed, and attired in a nightshirt with goffered frills, he had got into bed, but Levin still lingered in his room, talking of various trifling matters, and not daring to ask what he wanted to know.
"How wonderfully they make this soap," he said gazing at a piece of soap he was handling, which Agafea Mihalovna had put ready for the visitor but Oblonsky had not used. "Only look; why, it's a work of art."
"Yes, everything's brought to such a pitch of perfection nowadays," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, with a moist and blissful yawn. "The theater, for instance, and the entertainments... a--a--a!" he yawned. "The electric light everywhere...a--a--a!"
"Yes, the electric light," said Levin. "Yes. Oh, and where's Vronsky now?" he asked suddenly, laying down the soap.
"Vronsky?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, checking his yawn; "he's in Petersburg. He left soon after you did, and he's not once been in Moscow since. And do you know, Kostya, I'll tell you the truth," he went on, leaning his elbow on the table, and propping on his hand his handsome ruddy face, in which his moist, good-natured, sleepy eyes shone like stars. "It's your own fault. You took fright at the sight of your rival. But, as I told you at the time, I couldn't say which had the better chance. Why didn't you fight it out? I told you at the time that...." He yawned inwardly, without opening his mouth.
"Does he know, or doesn't he, that I did make an offer?" Levin wondered, gazing at him. "Yes, there's something humbugging, diplomatic in his face," and feeling he was blushing, he looked Stepan Arkadyevitch straight in the face without speaking.
"If there was anything on her side at the time, it was nothing but a superficial attraction," pursued Oblonsky. "His being such a perfect aristocrat, don't you know, and his future position in society, had an influence not with her, but with her mother."
Levin scowled. The humiliation of his rejection stung him to the heart, as though it were a fresh wound he had only just received. But he was at home, and the walls of home are a support.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Chapter 13
Chapter 13
After dinner, and till the beginning of the evening, Kitty was feeling a sensation akin to the sensation of a young man before a battle. Her heat throbbed violently, and her thoughts would not rest on anything.
She felt that this evening, when they would both meet for the first time, would be a turning point in her life. And she was continually picturing them to herself, at one moment each separately, and then both together. When she mused on the past, she dwelt with pleasure, with tenderness, on the memories of her relations with Levin. The memories of childhood and of Levin's friendship with her dead brother gave a special poetic charm to her relations with him. His love for her, of which she felt certain, was flattering and delightful to her; and it was pleasant for her to think of Levin. In her memories of Vronsky there always entered a certain element of awkwardness, though he was in the highest degree well-bred and at ease, as though there were some false note--not in Vronsky, he was very simple and nice, but in herself, while with Levin she felt perfectly simple and clear. But, on the other hand, directly she thought of the future with Vronsky, there arose before her a perspective of brilliant happiness; with Levin the future seemed misty.
When she went upstairs to dress, and looked into the looking-glass, she noticed with joy that it was one of her good days, and that she was in complete possession of all her forces,--she needed this so for what lay before her: she was conscious of external composure and free grace in her movements.
At half-past seven she had only just gone down into the drawing room, when the footman announced, "Konstantin Dmitrievitch Levin." The princess was still in her room, and the prince had not come in. "So it is to be," thought Kitty, and all the blood seemed to rush to her heart. She was horrified at her paleness, as she glanced into the looking-glass. At that moment she knew beyond doubt that he had come early on purpose to find her alone and to make her an offer. And only then for the first time the whole thing presented itself in a new, different aspect; only then she realized that the question did not affect her only-- with whom she would be happy, and whom she loved--but that she would have that moment to wound a man whom she liked. And to wound him cruelly. What for? Because he, dear fellow, loved her, was in love with her. But there was no help for it, so it must be, so it would have to be.
After dinner, and till the beginning of the evening, Kitty was feeling a sensation akin to the sensation of a young man before a battle. Her heat throbbed violently, and her thoughts would not rest on anything.
She felt that this evening, when they would both meet for the first time, would be a turning point in her life. And she was continually picturing them to herself, at one moment each separately, and then both together. When she mused on the past, she dwelt with pleasure, with tenderness, on the memories of her relations with Levin. The memories of childhood and of Levin's friendship with her dead brother gave a special poetic charm to her relations with him. His love for her, of which she felt certain, was flattering and delightful to her; and it was pleasant for her to think of Levin. In her memories of Vronsky there always entered a certain element of awkwardness, though he was in the highest degree well-bred and at ease, as though there were some false note--not in Vronsky, he was very simple and nice, but in herself, while with Levin she felt perfectly simple and clear. But, on the other hand, directly she thought of the future with Vronsky, there arose before her a perspective of brilliant happiness; with Levin the future seemed misty.
When she went upstairs to dress, and looked into the looking-glass, she noticed with joy that it was one of her good days, and that she was in complete possession of all her forces,--she needed this so for what lay before her: she was conscious of external composure and free grace in her movements.
At half-past seven she had only just gone down into the drawing room, when the footman announced, "Konstantin Dmitrievitch Levin." The princess was still in her room, and the prince had not come in. "So it is to be," thought Kitty, and all the blood seemed to rush to her heart. She was horrified at her paleness, as she glanced into the looking-glass. At that moment she knew beyond doubt that he had come early on purpose to find her alone and to make her an offer. And only then for the first time the whole thing presented itself in a new, different aspect; only then she realized that the question did not affect her only-- with whom she would be happy, and whom she loved--but that she would have that moment to wound a man whom she liked. And to wound him cruelly. What for? Because he, dear fellow, loved her, was in love with her. But there was no help for it, so it must be, so it would have to be.
Now she was afraid that Vronsky might confine himself
Now she was afraid that Vronsky might confine himself to simply flirting with her daughter. She saw that her daughter was in love with him, but tried to comfort herself with the thought that he was an honorable man, and would not do this. But at the same time she knew how easy it is, with the freedom of manners of today, to turn a girl's head, and how lightly men generally regard such a crime. The week before, Kitty had told her mother of a conversation she had with Vronsky during a mazurka. This conversation had partly reassured the princess; but perfectly at ease she could not be. Vronsky had told Kitty that both he and his brother were so used to obeying their mother that they never made up their minds to any important undertaking without consulting her. "And just now, I am impatiently awaiting my mother's arrival from Petersburg, as peculiarly fortunate," he told her.
Kitty had repeated this without attaching any significance to the words. But her mother saw them in a different light. She knew that the old lady was expected from day to day, that she would be pleased at her son's choice, and she felt it strange that he should not make his offer through fear of vexing his mother. However, she was so anxious for the marriage itself, and still more for relief from her fears, that she believed it was so. Bitter as it was for the princess to see the unhappiness of her eldest daughter, Dolly, on the point of leaving her husband, her anxiety over the decision of her youngest daughter's fate engrossed all her feelings. Today, with Levin's reappearance, a fresh source of anxiety arose. She was afraid that her daughter, who had at one time, as she fancied, a feeling for Levin, might, from extreme sense of honor, refuse Vronsky, and that Levin's arrival might generally complicate and delay the affair so near being concluded.
"Why, has be been here long?" the princess asked about Levin, as they returned home.
"He came today, mamma."
"There's one thing I want to say..." began the princess, and from her serious and alert face, Kitty guessed what it would be.
"Mamma," she said, flushing hotly and turning quickly to her, "please, please don't say anything about that. I know, I know all about it."
She wished for what her mother wished for, but the motives of her mother's wishes wounded her.
"I only want to say that to raise hopes..."
"Mamma, darling, for goodness' sake, don't talk about it. It's so horrible to talk about it."
"I won't," said her mother, seeing the tears in her daughter's eyes; "but one thing, my love; you promised me you would have no secrets from me. You won't?"
"Never, mamma, none," answered Kitty, flushing a little, and looking her mother straight in the face, "but there's no use in my telling you anything, and I...I...if I wanted to, I don't know what to say or how...I don't know..."
"No, she could not tell an untruth with those eyes," thought the mother, smiling at her agitation and happiness. The princess smiled that what was taking place just now in her soul seemed to the poor child so immense and so important.
Kitty had repeated this without attaching any significance to the words. But her mother saw them in a different light. She knew that the old lady was expected from day to day, that she would be pleased at her son's choice, and she felt it strange that he should not make his offer through fear of vexing his mother. However, she was so anxious for the marriage itself, and still more for relief from her fears, that she believed it was so. Bitter as it was for the princess to see the unhappiness of her eldest daughter, Dolly, on the point of leaving her husband, her anxiety over the decision of her youngest daughter's fate engrossed all her feelings. Today, with Levin's reappearance, a fresh source of anxiety arose. She was afraid that her daughter, who had at one time, as she fancied, a feeling for Levin, might, from extreme sense of honor, refuse Vronsky, and that Levin's arrival might generally complicate and delay the affair so near being concluded.
"Why, has be been here long?" the princess asked about Levin, as they returned home.
"He came today, mamma."
"There's one thing I want to say..." began the princess, and from her serious and alert face, Kitty guessed what it would be.
"Mamma," she said, flushing hotly and turning quickly to her, "please, please don't say anything about that. I know, I know all about it."
She wished for what her mother wished for, but the motives of her mother's wishes wounded her.
"I only want to say that to raise hopes..."
"Mamma, darling, for goodness' sake, don't talk about it. It's so horrible to talk about it."
"I won't," said her mother, seeing the tears in her daughter's eyes; "but one thing, my love; you promised me you would have no secrets from me. You won't?"
"Never, mamma, none," answered Kitty, flushing a little, and looking her mother straight in the face, "but there's no use in my telling you anything, and I...I...if I wanted to, I don't know what to say or how...I don't know..."
"No, she could not tell an untruth with those eyes," thought the mother, smiling at her agitation and happiness. The princess smiled that what was taking place just now in her soul seemed to the poor child so immense and so important.
Vronsky satisfied all the mother's desires.
Vronsky satisfied all the mother's desires. Very wealthy, clever, of aristocratic family, on the highroad to a brilliant career in the army and at court, and a fascinating man. Nothing better could be wished for.
Vronsky openly flirted with Kitty at balls, danced with her, and came continually to the house, consequently there could be no doubt of the seriousness of his intentions. But, in spite of that, the mother had spent the whole of that winter in a state of terrible anxiety and agitation.
Princess Shtcherbatskaya had herself been married thirty years ago, her aunt arranging the match. Her husband, about whom everything was well known before hand, had come, looked at his future bride, and been looked at. The match-making aunt had ascertained and communicated their mutual impression. That impression had been favorable. Afterwards, on a day fixed beforehand, the expected offer was made to her parents, and accepted. All had passed very simply and easily. So it seemed, at least, to the princess. But over her own daughters she had felt how far from simple and easy is the business, apparently so commonplace, of marrying off one's daughters. The panics that had been lived through, the thoughts that had been brooded over, the money that had been wasted, and the disputes with her husband over marrying the two elder girls, Darya and Natalia! Now, since the youngest had come out, she was going through the same terrors, the same doubts, and still more violent quarrels with her husband than she had over the elder girls. The old prince, like all fathers indeed, was exceedingly punctilious on the score of the honor and reputation of his daughters. He was irrationally jealous over his daughters, especially over Kitty, who was his favorite. At every turn he had scenes with the princess for compromising her daughter. The princess had grown accustomed to this already with her other daughters, but now she felt that there was more ground for the prince's touchiness. She saw that of late years much was changed in the manners of society, that a mother's duties had become still more difficult. She saw that girls of Kitty's age formed some sort of clubs, went to some sort of lectures, mixed freely in men's society; drove about the streets alone, many of them did not curtsey, and, what was the most important thing, all the girls were firmly convinced that to choose their husbands was their own affair, and not their parents'. "Marriages aren't made nowadays as they used to be," was thought and said by all these young girls, and even by their elders. But how marriages were made now, the princess could not learn from any one. The French fashion--of the parents arranging their children's future--was not accepted; it was condemned. The English fashion of the complete independence of girls was also not accepted, and not possible in Russian society. The Russian fashion of match-making by the offices if intermediate persons was for some reason considered unseemly; it was ridiculed by every one, and by the princess herself. But how girls were to be married, and how parents were to marry them, no one knew. Everyone with whom the princess had chanced to discuss the matter said the same thing: "Mercy on us, it's high time in our day to cast off all that old-fashioned business. It's the young people have to marry; and not their parents; and so we ought to leave the young people to arrange it as they choose." It was very easy for anyone to say that who had no daughters, but the princess realized that in the process of getting to know each other, her daughter might fall in love, and fall in love with someone who did not care to marry her or who was quite unfit to be her husband. And, however much it was instilled into the princess that in our times young people ought to arrange their lives for themselves, she was unable to believe it, just as she would have been unable to believe that, at any time whatever, the most suitable playthings for children five years old ought to be loaded pistols. And so the princess was more uneasy over Kitty than she had been over her elder sisters.
Vronsky openly flirted with Kitty at balls, danced with her, and came continually to the house, consequently there could be no doubt of the seriousness of his intentions. But, in spite of that, the mother had spent the whole of that winter in a state of terrible anxiety and agitation.
Princess Shtcherbatskaya had herself been married thirty years ago, her aunt arranging the match. Her husband, about whom everything was well known before hand, had come, looked at his future bride, and been looked at. The match-making aunt had ascertained and communicated their mutual impression. That impression had been favorable. Afterwards, on a day fixed beforehand, the expected offer was made to her parents, and accepted. All had passed very simply and easily. So it seemed, at least, to the princess. But over her own daughters she had felt how far from simple and easy is the business, apparently so commonplace, of marrying off one's daughters. The panics that had been lived through, the thoughts that had been brooded over, the money that had been wasted, and the disputes with her husband over marrying the two elder girls, Darya and Natalia! Now, since the youngest had come out, she was going through the same terrors, the same doubts, and still more violent quarrels with her husband than she had over the elder girls. The old prince, like all fathers indeed, was exceedingly punctilious on the score of the honor and reputation of his daughters. He was irrationally jealous over his daughters, especially over Kitty, who was his favorite. At every turn he had scenes with the princess for compromising her daughter. The princess had grown accustomed to this already with her other daughters, but now she felt that there was more ground for the prince's touchiness. She saw that of late years much was changed in the manners of society, that a mother's duties had become still more difficult. She saw that girls of Kitty's age formed some sort of clubs, went to some sort of lectures, mixed freely in men's society; drove about the streets alone, many of them did not curtsey, and, what was the most important thing, all the girls were firmly convinced that to choose their husbands was their own affair, and not their parents'. "Marriages aren't made nowadays as they used to be," was thought and said by all these young girls, and even by their elders. But how marriages were made now, the princess could not learn from any one. The French fashion--of the parents arranging their children's future--was not accepted; it was condemned. The English fashion of the complete independence of girls was also not accepted, and not possible in Russian society. The Russian fashion of match-making by the offices if intermediate persons was for some reason considered unseemly; it was ridiculed by every one, and by the princess herself. But how girls were to be married, and how parents were to marry them, no one knew. Everyone with whom the princess had chanced to discuss the matter said the same thing: "Mercy on us, it's high time in our day to cast off all that old-fashioned business. It's the young people have to marry; and not their parents; and so we ought to leave the young people to arrange it as they choose." It was very easy for anyone to say that who had no daughters, but the princess realized that in the process of getting to know each other, her daughter might fall in love, and fall in love with someone who did not care to marry her or who was quite unfit to be her husband. And, however much it was instilled into the princess that in our times young people ought to arrange their lives for themselves, she was unable to believe it, just as she would have been unable to believe that, at any time whatever, the most suitable playthings for children five years old ought to be loaded pistols. And so the princess was more uneasy over Kitty than she had been over her elder sisters.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Harry had a fleeting memory o
Harry had a fleeting memory of a club soaring high into the air and landing loudly on the thick skull of a troll ... smiling slightly, he bent over the paper and began to write.
‘Well, it wasn't too bad, was it?’ asked Hermione anxiously in the Entrance Hall two hours later, still clutching the exam paper. ‘I'm not sure I did myself justice on Cheering Charms, I just ran out of time. Did you put in the counter-charm for hiccoughs? I wasn't sure whether I ought to, it felt like too much—and on question twenty-three—’
‘Hermione,’ said Ron sternly, ‘we've been through this before ... we're not going through every exam afterwards, it's bad enough doing them once.’
The fifth-years ate lunch with the rest of the school (the four house tables had reappeared for the lunch hour), then they trooped off into the small chamber beside the Great Hall, where they were to wait until called for their practical examination. As small groups of students were called forwards in alphabetical order, those left behind muttered incantations and practised wand movements, occasionally poking each other in the back or eye by mistake.
Hermione's name was called. Trembling, she left the chamber with Anthony Goldstein, Gregory Goyle and Daphne Greengrass. Students who had already been tested did not return afterwards, so Harry and Ron had no idea how Hermione had done.
‘She'll be fine, remember she got a hundred and twelve per cent on one of our Charms tests?’ said Ron.
Ten minutes later, Professor Flitwick called, ‘Parkinson, Pansy—Patil, Padma—Patil, Parvati—Potter, Harry.’
‘Good luck,’ said Ron quietly. Harry walked into the Great Hall, clutching his wand so tightly his hand shook.
‘Professor Tofty is free, Potter,’ squeaked Professor Flitwick, who was standing just inside the door. He pointed Harry towards what looked like the very oldest and baldest examiner who was sitting behind a small table in a far corner, a short distance from Professor Marchbanks, who was halfway through testing Draco Malfoy.
‘Potter, is it?’ said Professor Tofty, consulting his notes and peering over his pince-nez at Harry as he approached. ‘The famous Potter?’
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry distinctly saw Malfoy throw a scathing look over at him; the wine-glass Malfoy had been levitating fell to the floor and smashed. Harry could not suppress a grin; Professor Tofty smiled back at him encouragingly.
‘That's it,’ he said in his quavery old voice, ‘no need to be nervous. Now, if I could ask you to take this egg cup and make it do some cartwheels for me.’
On the whole, Harry thought it went rather well. His Levitation Charm was certainly much better than Malfoy's had been, though he wished he had not mixed up the incantations for Colour Change and Growth Charms, so that the rat he was supposed to be turning orange swelled shockingly and was the size of a badger before Harry could rectify his mistake. He was glad Hermione had not been in the Hall at the time and neglected to mention it to her afterwards. He could tell Ron, though; Ron had caused a dinner plate to mutate into a large mushroom and had no idea how it had happened.
There was no time to relax that night; they went straight to the common room after dinner and submerged themselves in revision for Transfiguration next day; Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with complex spell models and theories.
He forgot the definition of a Switching Spell during his written paper next morning but thought his practical could have been a lot worse. At least he managed to Vanish the whole of his iguana, whereas poor Hannah Abbott lost her head completely at the next table and somehow managed to multiply her ferret into a flock of flamingos, causing the examination to be halted for ten minute; while the birds were captured and carried out of the Hall.
They had their Herbology exam on Wednesday (other than a small bite from a Fanged Geranium, Harry felt he had done reasonably well); and then, on Thursday, Defence Against the Dark Arts. Here, for the first time, Harry felt sure he had passed. He had no problem with any of the written questions and took particular pleasure, during the practical examination, in performing all the counter-jinxes and defensive spells right in front of Umbridge, who was watching coolly from near the doors into the Entrance Hall.
‘Oh, bravo!’ cried Professor Tolty, who was examining Harry again, when Harry demonstrated a perfect boggart banishing spell. ‘Very good indeed! Well, I think that's all, Potter ... unless ...’
He leaned forwards a little.
‘I heard, from my dear friend Tiberius Ogden, that you can produce a Patronus? For a bonus point ... ?’
Harry raised his wand, looked directly at Umbridge and imagined her being sacked.
‘Expecto patronum!’
His silver stag erupted from the end of his wand and cantered the length of the Hall. All of the examiners looked around to watch its progress and when it dissolved into silver mist Professor Tofty clapped his veined and knotted hands enthusiastically.
‘Excellent!’ he said. ‘Very well, Potter, you may go!’
‘Well, it wasn't too bad, was it?’ asked Hermione anxiously in the Entrance Hall two hours later, still clutching the exam paper. ‘I'm not sure I did myself justice on Cheering Charms, I just ran out of time. Did you put in the counter-charm for hiccoughs? I wasn't sure whether I ought to, it felt like too much—and on question twenty-three—’
‘Hermione,’ said Ron sternly, ‘we've been through this before ... we're not going through every exam afterwards, it's bad enough doing them once.’
The fifth-years ate lunch with the rest of the school (the four house tables had reappeared for the lunch hour), then they trooped off into the small chamber beside the Great Hall, where they were to wait until called for their practical examination. As small groups of students were called forwards in alphabetical order, those left behind muttered incantations and practised wand movements, occasionally poking each other in the back or eye by mistake.
Hermione's name was called. Trembling, she left the chamber with Anthony Goldstein, Gregory Goyle and Daphne Greengrass. Students who had already been tested did not return afterwards, so Harry and Ron had no idea how Hermione had done.
‘She'll be fine, remember she got a hundred and twelve per cent on one of our Charms tests?’ said Ron.
Ten minutes later, Professor Flitwick called, ‘Parkinson, Pansy—Patil, Padma—Patil, Parvati—Potter, Harry.’
‘Good luck,’ said Ron quietly. Harry walked into the Great Hall, clutching his wand so tightly his hand shook.
‘Professor Tofty is free, Potter,’ squeaked Professor Flitwick, who was standing just inside the door. He pointed Harry towards what looked like the very oldest and baldest examiner who was sitting behind a small table in a far corner, a short distance from Professor Marchbanks, who was halfway through testing Draco Malfoy.
‘Potter, is it?’ said Professor Tofty, consulting his notes and peering over his pince-nez at Harry as he approached. ‘The famous Potter?’
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry distinctly saw Malfoy throw a scathing look over at him; the wine-glass Malfoy had been levitating fell to the floor and smashed. Harry could not suppress a grin; Professor Tofty smiled back at him encouragingly.
‘That's it,’ he said in his quavery old voice, ‘no need to be nervous. Now, if I could ask you to take this egg cup and make it do some cartwheels for me.’
On the whole, Harry thought it went rather well. His Levitation Charm was certainly much better than Malfoy's had been, though he wished he had not mixed up the incantations for Colour Change and Growth Charms, so that the rat he was supposed to be turning orange swelled shockingly and was the size of a badger before Harry could rectify his mistake. He was glad Hermione had not been in the Hall at the time and neglected to mention it to her afterwards. He could tell Ron, though; Ron had caused a dinner plate to mutate into a large mushroom and had no idea how it had happened.
There was no time to relax that night; they went straight to the common room after dinner and submerged themselves in revision for Transfiguration next day; Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with complex spell models and theories.
He forgot the definition of a Switching Spell during his written paper next morning but thought his practical could have been a lot worse. At least he managed to Vanish the whole of his iguana, whereas poor Hannah Abbott lost her head completely at the next table and somehow managed to multiply her ferret into a flock of flamingos, causing the examination to be halted for ten minute; while the birds were captured and carried out of the Hall.
They had their Herbology exam on Wednesday (other than a small bite from a Fanged Geranium, Harry felt he had done reasonably well); and then, on Thursday, Defence Against the Dark Arts. Here, for the first time, Harry felt sure he had passed. He had no problem with any of the written questions and took particular pleasure, during the practical examination, in performing all the counter-jinxes and defensive spells right in front of Umbridge, who was watching coolly from near the doors into the Entrance Hall.
‘Oh, bravo!’ cried Professor Tolty, who was examining Harry again, when Harry demonstrated a perfect boggart banishing spell. ‘Very good indeed! Well, I think that's all, Potter ... unless ...’
He leaned forwards a little.
‘I heard, from my dear friend Tiberius Ogden, that you can produce a Patronus? For a bonus point ... ?’
Harry raised his wand, looked directly at Umbridge and imagined her being sacked.
‘Expecto patronum!’
His silver stag erupted from the end of his wand and cantered the length of the Hall. All of the examiners looked around to watch its progress and when it dissolved into silver mist Professor Tofty clapped his veined and knotted hands enthusiastically.
‘Excellent!’ he said. ‘Very well, Potter, you may go!’
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Harry stared. He had been about to say,
Harry stared. He had been about to say, ‘I suppose you want to know when the next DA meeting is?’ but her response did not seem to fit.
‘I—er—’ he said.
‘Oh, it's OK if you don't,’ she said, looking mortified. ‘Don't worry. I—I'll see you around.’
She walked away. Harry stood staring after her, his brain working frantically. Then something clunked into place.
‘Cho! Hey—CHO!’
He ran after her, catching her halfway up the marble staircase.
‘Er—d'you want to come into Hogsmeade with me on Valentine's Day?’
‘Oooh, yes!’ she said, blushing crimson and beaming at him.
‘Right ... well ... that's settled then,’ said Harry, and feeling that the day was not going to be a complete loss after all, he virtually bounced off to the library to pick up Ron and Hermione before their afternoon lessons.
By six o'clock that evening, however, even the glow of having successfully asked out Cho Chang could not lighten the ominous feelings that intensified with every step Harry took towards Snape's office.
He paused outside the door when he reached it, wishing he were almost anywhere else, then, taking a deep breath, he knocked and entered.
The shadowy room was lined with shelves bearing hundreds of glass jars in which slimy bits of animals and plants were suspended in variously coloured potions. In one corner stood the cupboard full of ingredients that Snape
had once accused Harry—not without reason—of robbing. Harry's attention was drawn towards the desk, however, where a shallow stone basin engraved with runes and symbols lay in a pool of candlelight. Harry recognised it
at once—it was Dumbledore's Pensieve. Wondering what on earth it was doing there, he jumped when Snape's cold voice came out of the shadows.
‘Shut the door behind you, Potter.’
Harry did as he was told, with the horrible feeling that he was imprisoning himself. When he turned back into the room, Snape had moved into the light and was pointing silently at the chair opposite his desk. Harry sat down
and so did Snape, his cold black eyes fixed unblinkingly upon Harry, dislike etched in every line of his face.
‘Well, Potter, you know why you are here,’ he said. ‘The Headmaster has asked me to teach you Occlumency. I can only hope that you prove more adept at it than at Potions.’
‘Right,’ said Harry tersely.
‘This may not be an ordinary class, Potter,’ said Snape, his eyes narrowed malevolently, ‘but I am still your teacher and you will therefore call me “sir” or “Professor” at all times.’
‘Yes ... sir,’ said Harry.
Snape continued to survey him through narrowed eyes for a moment, then said, ‘Now, Occlumency. As I told you back in your dear godfather's kitchen, this branch of magic seals the mind against magical intrusion and
influence.’
‘And why does Professor Dumbledore think I need it, sir?’ said Harry looking directly into Snape's eyes and wondering whether Snape would answer.
Snape looked back at him for a moment and then said contemptuously, ‘Surely even you could have worked that out by now, Potter? The Dark Lord is highly skilled at Legilimency —’
‘What's that? Sir?’
‘It is the ability to extract feelings and memories from another person's mind—’
‘He can read minds?’ said Harry quickly, his worst fears confirmed.
‘You have no subtlety, Potter,’ said Snape, his dark eyes glittering. ‘You do not understand fine distinctions. It is one of the shortcomings that makes you such a lamentable potion-maker.’
Snape paused for a moment, apparently to savour the pleasure of insulting Harry, before continuing.
‘Only Muggles talk of “mind-reading". The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by any invader, the mind is a complex and many-
layered thing, Potter— or at least, most minds are.’ He smirked. ‘It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their
findings correctly. The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so can utter
falsehoods in his presence without detection.’
Whatever Snape said, Legilimency sounded like mind-reading to Harry, and he didn't like the sound of it at all.
‘So he could know what we're thinking right now? Sir?’
‘The Dark Lord is at a considerable distance and the walls and grounds of Hogwarts are guarded by many ancient spells and charms to ensure the bodily and mental safety of those who dwell within them,’ said Snape. ‘Time
and space matter in magic, Potter. Eye contact is often essential to Legilimency.’
‘Well then, why do I have to learn Occlumency?’
Snape eyed Harry, tracing his mouth with one long, thin finger as he did so.
‘The usual rules do not seem to apply with you, Potter. The curse that failed to kill you seems to have forged some kind of connection between you and the Dark Lord. The evidence suggests that at times, when your mind is
most relaxed and vulnerable —when you are asleep, for instance—you are sharing the Dark Lord's thoughts and emotions. The Headmaster thinks it inadvisable for this to continue. He wishes me to teach you how to close
your mind to the Dark Lord.’
Harry's heart was pumping fast again. None of this added up.
‘But why does Professor Dumbledore want to stop it?’ he asked abruptly. ‘I don't like it much, but it's been useful, hasn't it? I mean ... I saw that snake attack Mr Weasley and if I hadn't, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have
been able to save him, would he? Sir?’
Snape stared at Harry for a few moments, still tracing his mouth with his finger. When he spoke again, it was slowly and deliberately, as though he weighed every word.
‘It appears that the Dark Lord has been unaware of the connection between you and himself until very recently. Up till now it seems that you have been experiencing his emotions, and sharing his thoughts, without his being
any the wiser. However, the vision you had shortly before Christmas—’
‘The one with the snake and Mr. Weasley?’
‘Do not interrupt me, Potter,’ said Snape in a dangerous voice. ‘As I was saying, the vision you had shortly before Christmas represented such a powerful incursion upon the Dark Lord's thoughts—’
‘I saw inside the snake's head, not his!’
‘I thought I just told you not to interrupt me, Potter?’
But Harry did not care if Snape was angry; at last he seemed to be getting to the bottom of this business; he had moved forwards in his chair so that, without realising it, he was perched on the very edge, tense as though
poised for flight.
‘How come I saw through the snake's eyes if it's Voldemort's thoughts I'm sharing?’
‘Do not say the Dark Lord's name!’ spat Snape.
There was a nasty silence. They glared at each other across the Pensieve.
‘Professor Dumbledore says his name.’ said Harry quietly.
‘Dumbledore is an extremely powerful wizard,’ Snape muttered. ‘While he may feel secure enough to use the name ... the rest of us ...’ He rubbed his left forearm, apparently unconsciously, on the spot where Harry knew the
Dark Mark was burned into his skin.
‘I just wanted to know,’ Harry began again, forcing his voice back to politeness, ‘why—’
‘You seem to have visited the snake's mind because that was where the Dark Lord was at that particular moment,’ snarled Snape. ‘He was possessing the snake at the time and so you dreamed you were inside it, too.’
‘And Vol—he— realised I was there?’
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‘I—er—’ he said.
‘Oh, it's OK if you don't,’ she said, looking mortified. ‘Don't worry. I—I'll see you around.’
She walked away. Harry stood staring after her, his brain working frantically. Then something clunked into place.
‘Cho! Hey—CHO!’
He ran after her, catching her halfway up the marble staircase.
‘Er—d'you want to come into Hogsmeade with me on Valentine's Day?’
‘Oooh, yes!’ she said, blushing crimson and beaming at him.
‘Right ... well ... that's settled then,’ said Harry, and feeling that the day was not going to be a complete loss after all, he virtually bounced off to the library to pick up Ron and Hermione before their afternoon lessons.
By six o'clock that evening, however, even the glow of having successfully asked out Cho Chang could not lighten the ominous feelings that intensified with every step Harry took towards Snape's office.
He paused outside the door when he reached it, wishing he were almost anywhere else, then, taking a deep breath, he knocked and entered.
The shadowy room was lined with shelves bearing hundreds of glass jars in which slimy bits of animals and plants were suspended in variously coloured potions. In one corner stood the cupboard full of ingredients that Snape
had once accused Harry—not without reason—of robbing. Harry's attention was drawn towards the desk, however, where a shallow stone basin engraved with runes and symbols lay in a pool of candlelight. Harry recognised it
at once—it was Dumbledore's Pensieve. Wondering what on earth it was doing there, he jumped when Snape's cold voice came out of the shadows.
‘Shut the door behind you, Potter.’
Harry did as he was told, with the horrible feeling that he was imprisoning himself. When he turned back into the room, Snape had moved into the light and was pointing silently at the chair opposite his desk. Harry sat down
and so did Snape, his cold black eyes fixed unblinkingly upon Harry, dislike etched in every line of his face.
‘Well, Potter, you know why you are here,’ he said. ‘The Headmaster has asked me to teach you Occlumency. I can only hope that you prove more adept at it than at Potions.’
‘Right,’ said Harry tersely.
‘This may not be an ordinary class, Potter,’ said Snape, his eyes narrowed malevolently, ‘but I am still your teacher and you will therefore call me “sir” or “Professor” at all times.’
‘Yes ... sir,’ said Harry.
Snape continued to survey him through narrowed eyes for a moment, then said, ‘Now, Occlumency. As I told you back in your dear godfather's kitchen, this branch of magic seals the mind against magical intrusion and
influence.’
‘And why does Professor Dumbledore think I need it, sir?’ said Harry looking directly into Snape's eyes and wondering whether Snape would answer.
Snape looked back at him for a moment and then said contemptuously, ‘Surely even you could have worked that out by now, Potter? The Dark Lord is highly skilled at Legilimency —’
‘What's that? Sir?’
‘It is the ability to extract feelings and memories from another person's mind—’
‘He can read minds?’ said Harry quickly, his worst fears confirmed.
‘You have no subtlety, Potter,’ said Snape, his dark eyes glittering. ‘You do not understand fine distinctions. It is one of the shortcomings that makes you such a lamentable potion-maker.’
Snape paused for a moment, apparently to savour the pleasure of insulting Harry, before continuing.
‘Only Muggles talk of “mind-reading". The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by any invader, the mind is a complex and many-
layered thing, Potter— or at least, most minds are.’ He smirked. ‘It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their
findings correctly. The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so can utter
falsehoods in his presence without detection.’
Whatever Snape said, Legilimency sounded like mind-reading to Harry, and he didn't like the sound of it at all.
‘So he could know what we're thinking right now? Sir?’
‘The Dark Lord is at a considerable distance and the walls and grounds of Hogwarts are guarded by many ancient spells and charms to ensure the bodily and mental safety of those who dwell within them,’ said Snape. ‘Time
and space matter in magic, Potter. Eye contact is often essential to Legilimency.’
‘Well then, why do I have to learn Occlumency?’
Snape eyed Harry, tracing his mouth with one long, thin finger as he did so.
‘The usual rules do not seem to apply with you, Potter. The curse that failed to kill you seems to have forged some kind of connection between you and the Dark Lord. The evidence suggests that at times, when your mind is
most relaxed and vulnerable —when you are asleep, for instance—you are sharing the Dark Lord's thoughts and emotions. The Headmaster thinks it inadvisable for this to continue. He wishes me to teach you how to close
your mind to the Dark Lord.’
Harry's heart was pumping fast again. None of this added up.
‘But why does Professor Dumbledore want to stop it?’ he asked abruptly. ‘I don't like it much, but it's been useful, hasn't it? I mean ... I saw that snake attack Mr Weasley and if I hadn't, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have
been able to save him, would he? Sir?’
Snape stared at Harry for a few moments, still tracing his mouth with his finger. When he spoke again, it was slowly and deliberately, as though he weighed every word.
‘It appears that the Dark Lord has been unaware of the connection between you and himself until very recently. Up till now it seems that you have been experiencing his emotions, and sharing his thoughts, without his being
any the wiser. However, the vision you had shortly before Christmas—’
‘The one with the snake and Mr. Weasley?’
‘Do not interrupt me, Potter,’ said Snape in a dangerous voice. ‘As I was saying, the vision you had shortly before Christmas represented such a powerful incursion upon the Dark Lord's thoughts—’
‘I saw inside the snake's head, not his!’
‘I thought I just told you not to interrupt me, Potter?’
But Harry did not care if Snape was angry; at last he seemed to be getting to the bottom of this business; he had moved forwards in his chair so that, without realising it, he was perched on the very edge, tense as though
poised for flight.
‘How come I saw through the snake's eyes if it's Voldemort's thoughts I'm sharing?’
‘Do not say the Dark Lord's name!’ spat Snape.
There was a nasty silence. They glared at each other across the Pensieve.
‘Professor Dumbledore says his name.’ said Harry quietly.
‘Dumbledore is an extremely powerful wizard,’ Snape muttered. ‘While he may feel secure enough to use the name ... the rest of us ...’ He rubbed his left forearm, apparently unconsciously, on the spot where Harry knew the
Dark Mark was burned into his skin.
‘I just wanted to know,’ Harry began again, forcing his voice back to politeness, ‘why—’
‘You seem to have visited the snake's mind because that was where the Dark Lord was at that particular moment,’ snarled Snape. ‘He was possessing the snake at the time and so you dreamed you were inside it, too.’
‘And Vol—he— realised I was there?’
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Tuesday, November 16, 2010
‘Well, that's why he and his friends came,
‘Well, that's why he and his friends came, I think—well, they're obviously interested in learning defence, but if Ginny hadn't told Michael what was going on—’
‘When did this— when did she—?’
‘They met at the Yule Ball and got together at the end of last year,’ said Hermione composedly. They had turned into the High Street and she paused outside Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, where there was a handsome display of pheasant feather quills in the window. ‘Hmm ... I could do with a new quill.’
She turned into the shop. Harry and Ron followed her.
‘Which one was Michael Corner?’ Ron demanded furiously.
‘The dark one,’ said Hermione.
‘I didn't like him,’ said Ron at once.
‘Big surprise,’ said Hermione under her breath.
‘But,’ said Ron, following Hermione along a row of quills in copper pots, ‘I thought Ginny fancied Harry!’
Hermione looked at him rather pityingly and shook her head.
‘Ginny used to fancy Harry, but she gave up on him months ago. Not that she doesn't like you, of course,’ she added kindly to Harry while she examined a long black and gold quill.
Harry, whose head was still full of Cho's parting wave, did not find this subject quite as interesting as Ron, who was positively quivering with indignation, but it did bring something home to him that until now he had not really registered.
‘So that's why she talks now?’ he asked Hermione. ‘She never used to talk in front of me.’
‘Exactly,’ said Hermione. ‘Yes, I think I'll have this one ...’
She went up to the counter and handed over fifteen Sickles and two Knuts, with Ron still breathing down her neck.
‘Ron,’ she said severely as she turned and trod on his feet, ‘this is exactly why Ginny hasn't told you she's seeing Michael, she knew you'd take it badly. So don't harp on about it, for heaven's sake.’
‘What d'you mean? Who's taking anything badly? I'm not going to harp on about anything ...’ Ron continued to chunter under his breath all the way down the street.
Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry and then said in an undertone, while Ron was still muttering imprecations about Michael Corner, ‘And talking about Michael and Ginny ... what about Cho and you?’
‘What d'you mean?’ said Harry quickly.
It was as though boiling water was rising rapidly inside him; a burning sensation that was causing his face to smart in the cold—had he been that obvious?
‘Well,’ said Hermione, smiling slightly, ‘she just couldn't keep her eyes off you, could she?’
Harry had never before appreciated just how beautiful the village of Hogsmeade was.
‘When did this— when did she—?’
‘They met at the Yule Ball and got together at the end of last year,’ said Hermione composedly. They had turned into the High Street and she paused outside Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, where there was a handsome display of pheasant feather quills in the window. ‘Hmm ... I could do with a new quill.’
She turned into the shop. Harry and Ron followed her.
‘Which one was Michael Corner?’ Ron demanded furiously.
‘The dark one,’ said Hermione.
‘I didn't like him,’ said Ron at once.
‘Big surprise,’ said Hermione under her breath.
‘But,’ said Ron, following Hermione along a row of quills in copper pots, ‘I thought Ginny fancied Harry!’
Hermione looked at him rather pityingly and shook her head.
‘Ginny used to fancy Harry, but she gave up on him months ago. Not that she doesn't like you, of course,’ she added kindly to Harry while she examined a long black and gold quill.
Harry, whose head was still full of Cho's parting wave, did not find this subject quite as interesting as Ron, who was positively quivering with indignation, but it did bring something home to him that until now he had not really registered.
‘So that's why she talks now?’ he asked Hermione. ‘She never used to talk in front of me.’
‘Exactly,’ said Hermione. ‘Yes, I think I'll have this one ...’
She went up to the counter and handed over fifteen Sickles and two Knuts, with Ron still breathing down her neck.
‘Ron,’ she said severely as she turned and trod on his feet, ‘this is exactly why Ginny hasn't told you she's seeing Michael, she knew you'd take it badly. So don't harp on about it, for heaven's sake.’
‘What d'you mean? Who's taking anything badly? I'm not going to harp on about anything ...’ Ron continued to chunter under his breath all the way down the street.
Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry and then said in an undertone, while Ron was still muttering imprecations about Michael Corner, ‘And talking about Michael and Ginny ... what about Cho and you?’
‘What d'you mean?’ said Harry quickly.
It was as though boiling water was rising rapidly inside him; a burning sensation that was causing his face to smart in the cold—had he been that obvious?
‘Well,’ said Hermione, smiling slightly, ‘she just couldn't keep her eyes off you, could she?’
Harry had never before appreciated just how beautiful the village of Hogsmeade was.
Monday, November 15, 2010
HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF. HE GOT OFF—’
HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF. HE GOT OFF—’
‘SHUT UP!’ roared Mrs. Weasley.
Over the next few days Harry could not help noticing that there was one person within number twelve, Grimmauld Place, who did not seem wholly overjoyed that he would be returning to Hogwarts. Sirius had put up a very good show of happiness on first hearing the news, wringing Harry's hand and beaming just like the rest of them. Soon, however, he was moodier and surlier than before, talking less to everybody, even Harry, and spending increasing amounts of time shut up in his mother's room with Buckbeak.
‘Don't you go feeling guilty!’ said Hermione sternly, after Harry had confided some of his feelings to her and Ron while they scrubbed out a mouldy cupboard on the third floor a few days later. ‘You belong at Hogwarts and Sirius knows it. Personally, I think he's being selfish.’
‘That's a bit harsh, Hermione,’ said Ron, frowning as he attempted to prise off a bit of mould that had attached itself firmly to his finger, ‘you wouldn't want to be stuck inside this house without any company.’
‘He'll have company!’ said Hermione. ‘It's Headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, isn't it? He just got his hopes up that Harry would be coming to live here with him.’
‘I don't think that's true,’ said Harry, wringing out his cloth. ‘He wouldn't give me a straight answer when I asked him if I could.’
‘He just didn't want to get his own hopes up even more,’ said Hermione wisely. ‘And he probably felt a bit guilty himself, because I think a part of him was really hoping you'd be expelled. Then you'd both be outcasts together.’
‘Come off it!’ said Harry and Ron together, but Hermione merely shrugged.
‘Suit yourselves. But I sometimes think Ron's mum's right and Sirius gets confused about whether you're you or your father, Harry.’
‘So you think he's touched in the head?’ said Harry heatedly.
‘No, I just think he's been very lonely for a long time,’ said Hermione simply.
At this point, Mrs. Weasley entered the bedroom behind them.
‘Still not finished?’ she said, poking her head into the cupboard.
‘I thought you might be here to tell us to have a break!’ said Ron bitterly. ‘D'you know how much mould we've got rid of since we arrived here?’
‘You were so keen to help the Order,’ said Mrs. Weasley, ‘you can do your bit by making Headquarters fit to live in.’
‘I feel like a house-elf,’ grumbled Ron.
‘Well, now you understand what dreadful lives they lead, perhaps you'll be a bit more active in S.P.E.W.!’ said Hermione hopefully, as Mrs. Weasley left them to it. ‘You know, maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to show people exactly how horrible it is to clean all the time—we could do a sponsored scrub of Gryffindor common room, all proceeds to S.P.E.W., it would raise awareness as well as funds—’
‘I'll sponsor you to shut up about spew,’ Ron muttered irritably, but only so Harry could hear him.
Harry found himself daydreaming about Hogwarts more and more as the end of the holidays approached; he could not wait to see Hagrid again, to play Quidditch, even to stroll across the vegetable patches to the Herbology greenhouses; it would be a treat just to leave this dusty, musty house, where half of the cupboards were still bolted shut and Kreacher wheezed insults out of the shadows as you passed, though Harry was careful not to say any of this within earshot of Sirius.
The fact was that living at the Headquarters of the anti-Voldemort movement was not nearly as interesting or exciting as Harry would have expected before he'd experienced it. Though members of the Order of the Phoenix came and went regularly, sometimes staying for meals, sometimes only for a few minutes of whispered conversation, Mrs. Weasley made sure that Harry and the others were kept well out of earshot (whether Extendable or normal) and nobody, not even Sirius, seemed to feel that Harry needed to know anything more than he had heard on the night of his arrival.
‘SHUT UP!’ roared Mrs. Weasley.
Over the next few days Harry could not help noticing that there was one person within number twelve, Grimmauld Place, who did not seem wholly overjoyed that he would be returning to Hogwarts. Sirius had put up a very good show of happiness on first hearing the news, wringing Harry's hand and beaming just like the rest of them. Soon, however, he was moodier and surlier than before, talking less to everybody, even Harry, and spending increasing amounts of time shut up in his mother's room with Buckbeak.
‘Don't you go feeling guilty!’ said Hermione sternly, after Harry had confided some of his feelings to her and Ron while they scrubbed out a mouldy cupboard on the third floor a few days later. ‘You belong at Hogwarts and Sirius knows it. Personally, I think he's being selfish.’
‘That's a bit harsh, Hermione,’ said Ron, frowning as he attempted to prise off a bit of mould that had attached itself firmly to his finger, ‘you wouldn't want to be stuck inside this house without any company.’
‘He'll have company!’ said Hermione. ‘It's Headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, isn't it? He just got his hopes up that Harry would be coming to live here with him.’
‘I don't think that's true,’ said Harry, wringing out his cloth. ‘He wouldn't give me a straight answer when I asked him if I could.’
‘He just didn't want to get his own hopes up even more,’ said Hermione wisely. ‘And he probably felt a bit guilty himself, because I think a part of him was really hoping you'd be expelled. Then you'd both be outcasts together.’
‘Come off it!’ said Harry and Ron together, but Hermione merely shrugged.
‘Suit yourselves. But I sometimes think Ron's mum's right and Sirius gets confused about whether you're you or your father, Harry.’
‘So you think he's touched in the head?’ said Harry heatedly.
‘No, I just think he's been very lonely for a long time,’ said Hermione simply.
At this point, Mrs. Weasley entered the bedroom behind them.
‘Still not finished?’ she said, poking her head into the cupboard.
‘I thought you might be here to tell us to have a break!’ said Ron bitterly. ‘D'you know how much mould we've got rid of since we arrived here?’
‘You were so keen to help the Order,’ said Mrs. Weasley, ‘you can do your bit by making Headquarters fit to live in.’
‘I feel like a house-elf,’ grumbled Ron.
‘Well, now you understand what dreadful lives they lead, perhaps you'll be a bit more active in S.P.E.W.!’ said Hermione hopefully, as Mrs. Weasley left them to it. ‘You know, maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to show people exactly how horrible it is to clean all the time—we could do a sponsored scrub of Gryffindor common room, all proceeds to S.P.E.W., it would raise awareness as well as funds—’
‘I'll sponsor you to shut up about spew,’ Ron muttered irritably, but only so Harry could hear him.
Harry found himself daydreaming about Hogwarts more and more as the end of the holidays approached; he could not wait to see Hagrid again, to play Quidditch, even to stroll across the vegetable patches to the Herbology greenhouses; it would be a treat just to leave this dusty, musty house, where half of the cupboards were still bolted shut and Kreacher wheezed insults out of the shadows as you passed, though Harry was careful not to say any of this within earshot of Sirius.
The fact was that living at the Headquarters of the anti-Voldemort movement was not nearly as interesting or exciting as Harry would have expected before he'd experienced it. Though members of the Order of the Phoenix came and went regularly, sometimes staying for meals, sometimes only for a few minutes of whispered conversation, Mrs. Weasley made sure that Harry and the others were kept well out of earshot (whether Extendable or normal) and nobody, not even Sirius, seemed to feel that Harry needed to know anything more than he had heard on the night of his arrival.
‘Don't think it hadn't occurred to us, Harry,’
‘Don't think it hadn't occurred to us, Harry,’ said Mr. Weasley quietly. ‘But Dumbledore thinks Fudge is acting of his own accord at the moment—which, as Dumbledore says, is not a lot of comfort.... Best not talk about it any more just now, Harry....’
The doors slid open and they stepped out into the now almost-deserted Atrium. Eric the watchwizard was hidden behind his Daily Prophet again. They had walked straight past the golden fountain before Harry remembered.
‘Wait....’ he told Mr. Weasley, and, pulling his moneybag from his pocket, he turned back to the fountain.
He looked up into the handsome wizard's face, but up close, Harry thought he looked rather weak and foolish. The witch was wearing a vapid smile like a beauty contestant, and from what Harry knew of goblins and centaurs, they were most unlikely to be caught staring so soppily at humans of any description. Only the house-elf's attitude of creeping servility looked convincing. With a grin at the thought of what Hermione would say if she could see the statue of the elf, Harry turned his moneybag upside-down and emptied not just ten Galleons, but the whole contents into the pool at the statues’ feet.
‘I knew it!’ yelled Ron, punching the air. ‘You always get away with stuff!’
‘They were bound to clear you,’ said Hermione, who had looked positively faint with anxiety when Harry had entered the kitchen and was now holding a shaking hand over her eyes, ‘there was no case against you, none at all.’
‘Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering you all knew I'd get off,’ said Harry, smiling.
Mrs. Weasley was wiping her face on her apron, and Fred, George, and Ginny were doing a kind of war dance to a chant that went: ‘He got off, he got off, he got off—’
‘That's enough! Settle down!’ shouted Mr. Weasley, though he too was smiling. ‘Listen, Sirius, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry—’
‘What?’ said Sirius sharply.
‘He got off, he got off, he got off—’
‘Be quiet, you three! Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on Level Nine, then they went up to Fudge's office together. Dumbledore ought to know.’
‘Absolutely,’ said Sirius. ‘We'll tell him, don't worry.’
‘Well, I'd better get going, there's a vomiting toilet waiting for me in Bethnal Green. Molly, I'll be late, I'm covering for Tonks, but Kingsley might be dropping in for dinner—’
‘He got off, he got off, he got off—’
‘That's enough—Fred—George—Ginny!’ said Mrs. Weasley, as Mr. Weasley left the kitchen. ‘Harry, dear, come and sit down, have some lunch, you hardly ate breakfast....’
Ron and Hermione sat themselves down opposite him, looking happier than they had done since he had first arrived at Grimmauld Place, and Harry's feeling of giddy relief, which had been somewhat dented by his encounter with Lucius Malfoy, swelled again. The gloomy house seemed warmer and more welcoming all of a sudden; even Kreacher looked less ugly as he poked his snoutlike nose into the kitchen to investigate the source of all the noise.
’ ‘Course, once Dumbledore turned up on your side, there was no way they were going to convict you,’ said Ron happily, now dishing great mounds of mashed potato on to everyone's plates.
‘Yeah, he swung it for me,’ said Harry. He felt it would sound highly ungrateful, not to mention childish, to say, ‘I wish he'd talked to me, though. Or even looked at me.’
And as he thought this, the scar on his forehead burned so badly that he clapped his hand to it..
‘What's up?’ said Hermione, looking alarmed.
‘Scar,’ Harry mumbled. ‘But it's nothing.... It happens all the time now....’
None of the others had noticed a thing; all of them were now helping themselves to food while gloating over Harry's narrow escape; Fred, George, and Ginny were still singing. Hermione looked rather anxious, but before she could say anything, Ron had said happily, ‘I bet Dumbledore turns up this evening, to celebrate with us, you know.’
‘I don't think he'll be able to, Ron,’ said Mrs. Weasley, setting a huge plate of roast chicken down in front of Harry. ‘He's really very busy at the moment.’
The doors slid open and they stepped out into the now almost-deserted Atrium. Eric the watchwizard was hidden behind his Daily Prophet again. They had walked straight past the golden fountain before Harry remembered.
‘Wait....’ he told Mr. Weasley, and, pulling his moneybag from his pocket, he turned back to the fountain.
He looked up into the handsome wizard's face, but up close, Harry thought he looked rather weak and foolish. The witch was wearing a vapid smile like a beauty contestant, and from what Harry knew of goblins and centaurs, they were most unlikely to be caught staring so soppily at humans of any description. Only the house-elf's attitude of creeping servility looked convincing. With a grin at the thought of what Hermione would say if she could see the statue of the elf, Harry turned his moneybag upside-down and emptied not just ten Galleons, but the whole contents into the pool at the statues’ feet.
‘I knew it!’ yelled Ron, punching the air. ‘You always get away with stuff!’
‘They were bound to clear you,’ said Hermione, who had looked positively faint with anxiety when Harry had entered the kitchen and was now holding a shaking hand over her eyes, ‘there was no case against you, none at all.’
‘Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering you all knew I'd get off,’ said Harry, smiling.
Mrs. Weasley was wiping her face on her apron, and Fred, George, and Ginny were doing a kind of war dance to a chant that went: ‘He got off, he got off, he got off—’
‘That's enough! Settle down!’ shouted Mr. Weasley, though he too was smiling. ‘Listen, Sirius, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry—’
‘What?’ said Sirius sharply.
‘He got off, he got off, he got off—’
‘Be quiet, you three! Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on Level Nine, then they went up to Fudge's office together. Dumbledore ought to know.’
‘Absolutely,’ said Sirius. ‘We'll tell him, don't worry.’
‘Well, I'd better get going, there's a vomiting toilet waiting for me in Bethnal Green. Molly, I'll be late, I'm covering for Tonks, but Kingsley might be dropping in for dinner—’
‘He got off, he got off, he got off—’
‘That's enough—Fred—George—Ginny!’ said Mrs. Weasley, as Mr. Weasley left the kitchen. ‘Harry, dear, come and sit down, have some lunch, you hardly ate breakfast....’
Ron and Hermione sat themselves down opposite him, looking happier than they had done since he had first arrived at Grimmauld Place, and Harry's feeling of giddy relief, which had been somewhat dented by his encounter with Lucius Malfoy, swelled again. The gloomy house seemed warmer and more welcoming all of a sudden; even Kreacher looked less ugly as he poked his snoutlike nose into the kitchen to investigate the source of all the noise.
’ ‘Course, once Dumbledore turned up on your side, there was no way they were going to convict you,’ said Ron happily, now dishing great mounds of mashed potato on to everyone's plates.
‘Yeah, he swung it for me,’ said Harry. He felt it would sound highly ungrateful, not to mention childish, to say, ‘I wish he'd talked to me, though. Or even looked at me.’
And as he thought this, the scar on his forehead burned so badly that he clapped his hand to it..
‘What's up?’ said Hermione, looking alarmed.
‘Scar,’ Harry mumbled. ‘But it's nothing.... It happens all the time now....’
None of the others had noticed a thing; all of them were now helping themselves to food while gloating over Harry's narrow escape; Fred, George, and Ginny were still singing. Hermione looked rather anxious, but before she could say anything, Ron had said happily, ‘I bet Dumbledore turns up this evening, to celebrate with us, you know.’
‘I don't think he'll be able to, Ron,’ said Mrs. Weasley, setting a huge plate of roast chicken down in front of Harry. ‘He's really very busy at the moment.’
Mr. Weasley broke off in mid-sentence.
Mr. Weasley broke off in mid-sentence. They had just reached the ninth-level corridor and Cornelius Fudge was standing a few feet away from them, talking quietly to a tall man with sleek blond hair and a pointed, pale face.
The second man turned at the sound of their footsteps. He, too, broke off in mid-conversation, his cold grey eyes narrowed and fixed upon Harry's face.
‘Well, well, well ... Patronus Potter,’ said Lucius Malfoy coolly.
Harry felt winded, as though he had just walked into something solid. He had last seen those cold grey eyes through slits in a Death Eater's hood, and last heard that man's voice jeering in a dark graveyard while Lord Voldemort tortured him. Harry could not believe that Lucius Malfoy dared look him in the face; he could not believe that he was here, in the Ministry of Magic, or that Cornelius Fudge was talking to him, when Harry had told Fudge mere weeks ago that Malfoy was a Death Eater.
‘The Minister was just telling me about your lucky escape, Potter,’ drawled Mr. Malfoy. ‘Quite astonishing, the way you continue to wriggle out of very tight holes.... Snakelike, in fact...’
Mr. Weasley gripped Harry's shoulder in warning.
‘Yeah,’ said Harry, ‘yeah, I'm good at escaping.’
Lucius Malfoy raised his eyes to Mr. Weasley's face.
‘And Arthur Weasley too! What are you doing here, Arthur?’
‘I work here,’ said Mr. Weasley curtly.
‘Not here, surely?’ said Mr. Malfoy, raising his eyebrows and glancing towards the door over Mr. Weasley's shoulder. ‘I thought you were up on the second floor.... Don't you do something that involves sneaking Muggle artefacts home and bewitching them?’
‘No,’ Mr. Weasley snapped, his fingers now biting into Harry's shoulder.
‘What areyou doing here, anyway?’ Harry asked Lucius Malfoy.
‘I don't think private matters between myself and the Minister are any concern of yours, Potter,’ said Malfoy, smoothing the front of his robes. Harry distinctly heard the gentle clinking of what sounded like a full pocket of gold. ‘Really, just because you are Dumbledore's favourite boy, you must not expect the same indulgence from the rest of us.... Shall we go up to your office, then, Minister?’
‘Certainly,’ said Fudge, turning his back on Harry and Mr. Weasley. ‘This way, Lucius.’
They strode off together, talking in low voices. Mr. Weasley did not let go of Harry's shoulder until they had disappeared into the lift.
‘Why wasn't he waiting outside Fudge's office if they've got business to do together?’ Harry burst out furiously. ‘What was he doing down here?’
‘Trying to sneak down to the courtroom, if you ask me,’ said Mr. Weasley, looking extremely agitated and glancing over his shoulder as though making sure they could not be overheard. ‘Trying to find out whether you'd been expelled or not. I'll leave a note for Dumbledore when I drop you off, he ought to know Malfoy's been talking to Fudge again.’
‘What private business have they got together, anyway?’
‘Gold, I expect,’ said Mr. Weasley angrily. ‘Malfoy's been giving generously to all sorts of things for years.... Gets him in with the right people ... then he can ask favours ... delay laws he doesn't want passed... Oh, he's very well-connected, Lucius Malfoy....’
The lift arrived; it was empty except for a flock of memos that flapped around Mr. Weasley's head as he pressed the button for the Atrium and the doors clanged shut. He waved them away irritably.
‘Mr. Weasley,’ said Harry slowly, ‘if Fudge is meeting Death Eaters like Malfoy, if he's seeing them alone, how do we know they haven't put the Imperius Curse on him?’
The second man turned at the sound of their footsteps. He, too, broke off in mid-conversation, his cold grey eyes narrowed and fixed upon Harry's face.
‘Well, well, well ... Patronus Potter,’ said Lucius Malfoy coolly.
Harry felt winded, as though he had just walked into something solid. He had last seen those cold grey eyes through slits in a Death Eater's hood, and last heard that man's voice jeering in a dark graveyard while Lord Voldemort tortured him. Harry could not believe that Lucius Malfoy dared look him in the face; he could not believe that he was here, in the Ministry of Magic, or that Cornelius Fudge was talking to him, when Harry had told Fudge mere weeks ago that Malfoy was a Death Eater.
‘The Minister was just telling me about your lucky escape, Potter,’ drawled Mr. Malfoy. ‘Quite astonishing, the way you continue to wriggle out of very tight holes.... Snakelike, in fact...’
Mr. Weasley gripped Harry's shoulder in warning.
‘Yeah,’ said Harry, ‘yeah, I'm good at escaping.’
Lucius Malfoy raised his eyes to Mr. Weasley's face.
‘And Arthur Weasley too! What are you doing here, Arthur?’
‘I work here,’ said Mr. Weasley curtly.
‘Not here, surely?’ said Mr. Malfoy, raising his eyebrows and glancing towards the door over Mr. Weasley's shoulder. ‘I thought you were up on the second floor.... Don't you do something that involves sneaking Muggle artefacts home and bewitching them?’
‘No,’ Mr. Weasley snapped, his fingers now biting into Harry's shoulder.
‘What areyou doing here, anyway?’ Harry asked Lucius Malfoy.
‘I don't think private matters between myself and the Minister are any concern of yours, Potter,’ said Malfoy, smoothing the front of his robes. Harry distinctly heard the gentle clinking of what sounded like a full pocket of gold. ‘Really, just because you are Dumbledore's favourite boy, you must not expect the same indulgence from the rest of us.... Shall we go up to your office, then, Minister?’
‘Certainly,’ said Fudge, turning his back on Harry and Mr. Weasley. ‘This way, Lucius.’
They strode off together, talking in low voices. Mr. Weasley did not let go of Harry's shoulder until they had disappeared into the lift.
‘Why wasn't he waiting outside Fudge's office if they've got business to do together?’ Harry burst out furiously. ‘What was he doing down here?’
‘Trying to sneak down to the courtroom, if you ask me,’ said Mr. Weasley, looking extremely agitated and glancing over his shoulder as though making sure they could not be overheard. ‘Trying to find out whether you'd been expelled or not. I'll leave a note for Dumbledore when I drop you off, he ought to know Malfoy's been talking to Fudge again.’
‘What private business have they got together, anyway?’
‘Gold, I expect,’ said Mr. Weasley angrily. ‘Malfoy's been giving generously to all sorts of things for years.... Gets him in with the right people ... then he can ask favours ... delay laws he doesn't want passed... Oh, he's very well-connected, Lucius Malfoy....’
The lift arrived; it was empty except for a flock of memos that flapped around Mr. Weasley's head as he pressed the button for the Atrium and the doors clanged shut. He waved them away irritably.
‘Mr. Weasley,’ said Harry slowly, ‘if Fudge is meeting Death Eaters like Malfoy, if he's seeing them alone, how do we know they haven't put the Imperius Curse on him?’
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Chapter 12 Professor Umbridge
Seamus dressed at top speed next morning and left the dormitory before Harry had even put on his socks.
‘Does he think he'll turn into a nutter if he stays in a room with me too long?’ asked Harry loudly as the hem of Seamus's robes wnipped out of sight.
‘Don't worry about it, Harry,’ Dean muttered, hoisting his schoolbag on to his shoulder, ‘he's just ...’
But apparently he was unable to say exactly what Seamus was, and after a slightly awkward pause followed him out of the room.
Neville and Ron both gave Harry an it's-his-problem-not-yours look, but Harry was not much consoled. How much more of this would he have to take?
‘What's the matter?’ asked Hermione five minutes later, catching up with Harry and Ron halfway across the common room as they all headed towards breakfast. ‘You look absolutely—Oh for heavens sake.’
She was staring at the common-room noticeboard, where a large new sign had been put up.
GALLONS OF GALLEONS!
Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings?
Like to earn a little extra gold?
Contact Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor common room,
for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs.
(We regret that all work is undertaken at applicant's own risk.)
‘They are the limit,’ said Hermione grimly, taking down the sign, which Fred and George had pinned up ewer a poster giving the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend, which was to be in October. ‘We'll have to talk to them,
Ron.’
Ron looked positively alarmed.
‘Why?’
‘Because we're prefects!’ said Hermione, as they climbed out through the portrait hole. ‘It's up to us to stop this kind of thing!’
Ron said nothing; Harry could tell from his glum expression that the prospect of stopping Fred and George doing exactly what they liked was not one he found inviting.
‘Anyway, what's up, Harry?’ Hermione continued, as they walked down a flight of stairs lined with portraits of old witches and wizards, all of whom ignored them, being engrossed in their own conversation. ‘You look really angry
about something.’
‘Seamus reckons Harry's lying about You-Know-Who,’ said Ron succinctly, when Harry did not respond.
Hermione, who Harry had expected to react angrily on his behalf, sighed.
‘Yes, Lavender thinks so too,’ she said gloomily.
‘Been having a nice little chat with her about whether or not I'm a lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?’ Harry said loudly.
‘No,’ said Hermione calmly. ‘I told her to keep her big fat mouth shut about you, actually. And it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down our throats, Harry, because in case you haven't noticed, Ron and I are on your
side.’
There was a short pause.
‘Sorry,’ said Harry in a low voice.
‘That's quite all right,’ said Hermione with dignity. Then she shook her head. ‘Don't you remember what Dumbledore said at the last end-of-term feast?’
Harry and Ron both looked at her blankly and Hermione sighed again.
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‘Does he think he'll turn into a nutter if he stays in a room with me too long?’ asked Harry loudly as the hem of Seamus's robes wnipped out of sight.
‘Don't worry about it, Harry,’ Dean muttered, hoisting his schoolbag on to his shoulder, ‘he's just ...’
But apparently he was unable to say exactly what Seamus was, and after a slightly awkward pause followed him out of the room.
Neville and Ron both gave Harry an it's-his-problem-not-yours look, but Harry was not much consoled. How much more of this would he have to take?
‘What's the matter?’ asked Hermione five minutes later, catching up with Harry and Ron halfway across the common room as they all headed towards breakfast. ‘You look absolutely—Oh for heavens sake.’
She was staring at the common-room noticeboard, where a large new sign had been put up.
GALLONS OF GALLEONS!
Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings?
Like to earn a little extra gold?
Contact Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor common room,
for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs.
(We regret that all work is undertaken at applicant's own risk.)
‘They are the limit,’ said Hermione grimly, taking down the sign, which Fred and George had pinned up ewer a poster giving the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend, which was to be in October. ‘We'll have to talk to them,
Ron.’
Ron looked positively alarmed.
‘Why?’
‘Because we're prefects!’ said Hermione, as they climbed out through the portrait hole. ‘It's up to us to stop this kind of thing!’
Ron said nothing; Harry could tell from his glum expression that the prospect of stopping Fred and George doing exactly what they liked was not one he found inviting.
‘Anyway, what's up, Harry?’ Hermione continued, as they walked down a flight of stairs lined with portraits of old witches and wizards, all of whom ignored them, being engrossed in their own conversation. ‘You look really angry
about something.’
‘Seamus reckons Harry's lying about You-Know-Who,’ said Ron succinctly, when Harry did not respond.
Hermione, who Harry had expected to react angrily on his behalf, sighed.
‘Yes, Lavender thinks so too,’ she said gloomily.
‘Been having a nice little chat with her about whether or not I'm a lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?’ Harry said loudly.
‘No,’ said Hermione calmly. ‘I told her to keep her big fat mouth shut about you, actually. And it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down our throats, Harry, because in case you haven't noticed, Ron and I are on your
side.’
There was a short pause.
‘Sorry,’ said Harry in a low voice.
‘That's quite all right,’ said Hermione with dignity. Then she shook her head. ‘Don't you remember what Dumbledore said at the last end-of-term feast?’
Harry and Ron both looked at her blankly and Hermione sighed again.
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Wednesday, November 10, 2010
A Thought of Outsiders About The America
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：109 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 1:34:46
Americans feel as though their country is the greatest country in the world. They are proud of their country, as they should be. However, it is sometimes difficult to see ourselves as others see us.
Most of the viewpoints expressed are from the standpoint of an American viewing Russia and Russians from the outside looking in.
The following viewpoint is offered in an effort to try to turn the lens around and show Americans how they are viewed by outsiders.
Americans have about an eighty percent to ninety percent literacy rate, depending on how much you want to believe the statistics of the people who are responsible for educating them.
Do you realize that fast food restaurants in America have pictures of hamburgers and french fries on the cash register buttons instead of dollars and cents! Its because many of the people working there cant make change. They dont have to. They just push the hamburger button and the cash register thinks for them.
Do you realize that the people who are working as cashiers at the major amusement parks of America have training for months learning how to make change before they are allowed to actually work in the cashier booth?
The literacy rate of Russians is over ninety eight percent. If you buy anything from a vendor while you are in Russia, you will realize that they can convert rubles into dollars and back again and make change in either currency in their head in a fraction of the second.
They didnt go to cashier school for months on end to learn how to do that. They learned how to make change at the school of hard knocks.
Many Russians that immigrate to America are afraid to send their children to school here. Instead of learning about how to read, write, and do arithmetic, they learn about alternative lifestyles, gangs, condoms, and how to express their opinion.
Instead of studying great literature, they learn about Barney the Purple Dinosaur and Jurassic Park. Instead of reading about history, they watch a movie by Oliver Stone or Spike Lee to learn about how it really was.
It appears that the mission of modern American schools is to teach the students how to think along the lines of political correctness rather than acquire any skills, which might be of use to them in the future.
The style is not much different from the propaganda machine used during the Cultural Revolution in China, when students had to memorize the slogans in Maos Little Red Book so they thought properly.
Americans are dreadfully ignorant of geography and events that take place outside of their country. I spoke to one woman in church who was bragging to me about her advanced university degrees and all the books she has read.
Having introduced my wife to her, we started talking about Russia. She asked me in all seriousness, Wheres Moscow? I told her it was in Russia. She asked me in all sincerity, Where is that? Some Americans not only are unashamed of their ignorance, they seem to be proud of it.
Americans feel as though their country is the greatest country in the world. They are proud of their country, as they should be. However, it is sometimes difficult to see ourselves as others see us.
Most of the viewpoints expressed are from the standpoint of an American viewing Russia and Russians from the outside looking in.
The following viewpoint is offered in an effort to try to turn the lens around and show Americans how they are viewed by outsiders.
Americans have about an eighty percent to ninety percent literacy rate, depending on how much you want to believe the statistics of the people who are responsible for educating them.
Do you realize that fast food restaurants in America have pictures of hamburgers and french fries on the cash register buttons instead of dollars and cents! Its because many of the people working there cant make change. They dont have to. They just push the hamburger button and the cash register thinks for them.
Do you realize that the people who are working as cashiers at the major amusement parks of America have training for months learning how to make change before they are allowed to actually work in the cashier booth?
The literacy rate of Russians is over ninety eight percent. If you buy anything from a vendor while you are in Russia, you will realize that they can convert rubles into dollars and back again and make change in either currency in their head in a fraction of the second.
They didnt go to cashier school for months on end to learn how to do that. They learned how to make change at the school of hard knocks.
Many Russians that immigrate to America are afraid to send their children to school here. Instead of learning about how to read, write, and do arithmetic, they learn about alternative lifestyles, gangs, condoms, and how to express their opinion.
Instead of studying great literature, they learn about Barney the Purple Dinosaur and Jurassic Park. Instead of reading about history, they watch a movie by Oliver Stone or Spike Lee to learn about how it really was.
It appears that the mission of modern American schools is to teach the students how to think along the lines of political correctness rather than acquire any skills, which might be of use to them in the future.
The style is not much different from the propaganda machine used during the Cultural Revolution in China, when students had to memorize the slogans in Maos Little Red Book so they thought properly.
Americans are dreadfully ignorant of geography and events that take place outside of their country. I spoke to one woman in church who was bragging to me about her advanced university degrees and all the books she has read.
Having introduced my wife to her, we started talking about Russia. She asked me in all seriousness, Wheres Moscow? I told her it was in Russia. She asked me in all sincerity, Where is that? Some Americans not only are unashamed of their ignorance, they seem to be proud of it.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Home Pest Control Advice
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：30 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 1:06:41
The attempt to get rid of pests has been around as long as agriculture. This industry is growing at a phenomenal rate. In the last five years the home pest control business has increased by half, making it a $7 billion industry
per year.
Homes are increasingly being built in places that are off the beaten path . Many people have a strong desire to reside in the woods or desert. For an insect or an animal termed a 'pest' it is you who is the intruder into their
habitat and not vice versa. When your home becomes infested with bugs, thats when they become pests.
What is pest control and horticulture all about?
Essentially it means decreasing or eliminating pests. Structural pest control refers to pests that invade your house or garden ,such as termites or fire ants,while pest control is the manner in which pests are controlled that take
over your lawn. Although infestation of the house can be a problem it is predominantly the garden that should be worried about.
Protecting the plants in your garden must be done in order to have healthy produce results. Usually, pests are not discovered until their damages have already been done or they explode in numbers. There are actually some
things you can do to get rid of the problem.
What can we do to contain the unwanted pests in our garden?
Both gardening and pest control are considered easy and hence majority sees them as do it yourself jobs. To some extent,say upto a point that is fair enough. Determining the best pest control for your garden is much like
getting a doctor's diagnosis, you need to know what is causing the problem, what to use to eliminate the pest and how to prevent further injury. Many homeowners do not actually read or follow the instructions on items they
purchase because they believe use and assembly will be simple.
As a result, insecticide will be applied in too high a concentration, which may be dangerous for you or your houseguests. Today, speaking of chemicals refers to chemical pest control for pest problem. Nonetheless, as people
have become aware of the long-term consequences of using chemical pesticides, there has been a recent increase in research into more naturally friendly methods of pest control.
If DIY is not your area of expertise concerning that of gardening and pest control, consider the option of monthly visits from the local pest control company to keep garden troubles under control. If you have your house pest
controlled on a monthly basis this means that problems will be detected as early as possible. Monthly pest control has one disadvantage and that is the home owners are keen that PCOs apply a chemical treatment every
month irrespective of the fact whether there is a pest problem or not.
A huge amount of pesticide is applied annually to lawns; typically something in the region of 67 million pounds. Agricultural acreage consumes far less pesticide than suburban lawns do.
Prior to applying a pesticide, consider all possible consequences. Be careful! Overuse of pesticides may damage the eco system and kill the very insects that are keeping your 'pest' numbers down If the pests should return,
you may have to spray additional times in the future. Further, various bugs contribute to plant pollination which helps your garden thrive and flourish. Really powerful insecticides, such as malathion or carbaryl, are not a good
idea. Such products only work for a short time, and are even more likely to kill off the bugs you want around than those you don't. With their natural enemies eliminated, pest populations will rapidly multiply and you could end
up with a bigger problem than you had before.
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The attempt to get rid of pests has been around as long as agriculture. This industry is growing at a phenomenal rate. In the last five years the home pest control business has increased by half, making it a $7 billion industry
per year.
Homes are increasingly being built in places that are off the beaten path . Many people have a strong desire to reside in the woods or desert. For an insect or an animal termed a 'pest' it is you who is the intruder into their
habitat and not vice versa. When your home becomes infested with bugs, thats when they become pests.
What is pest control and horticulture all about?
Essentially it means decreasing or eliminating pests. Structural pest control refers to pests that invade your house or garden ,such as termites or fire ants,while pest control is the manner in which pests are controlled that take
over your lawn. Although infestation of the house can be a problem it is predominantly the garden that should be worried about.
Protecting the plants in your garden must be done in order to have healthy produce results. Usually, pests are not discovered until their damages have already been done or they explode in numbers. There are actually some
things you can do to get rid of the problem.
What can we do to contain the unwanted pests in our garden?
Both gardening and pest control are considered easy and hence majority sees them as do it yourself jobs. To some extent,say upto a point that is fair enough. Determining the best pest control for your garden is much like
getting a doctor's diagnosis, you need to know what is causing the problem, what to use to eliminate the pest and how to prevent further injury. Many homeowners do not actually read or follow the instructions on items they
purchase because they believe use and assembly will be simple.
As a result, insecticide will be applied in too high a concentration, which may be dangerous for you or your houseguests. Today, speaking of chemicals refers to chemical pest control for pest problem. Nonetheless, as people
have become aware of the long-term consequences of using chemical pesticides, there has been a recent increase in research into more naturally friendly methods of pest control.
If DIY is not your area of expertise concerning that of gardening and pest control, consider the option of monthly visits from the local pest control company to keep garden troubles under control. If you have your house pest
controlled on a monthly basis this means that problems will be detected as early as possible. Monthly pest control has one disadvantage and that is the home owners are keen that PCOs apply a chemical treatment every
month irrespective of the fact whether there is a pest problem or not.
A huge amount of pesticide is applied annually to lawns; typically something in the region of 67 million pounds. Agricultural acreage consumes far less pesticide than suburban lawns do.
Prior to applying a pesticide, consider all possible consequences. Be careful! Overuse of pesticides may damage the eco system and kill the very insects that are keeping your 'pest' numbers down If the pests should return,
you may have to spray additional times in the future. Further, various bugs contribute to plant pollination which helps your garden thrive and flourish. Really powerful insecticides, such as malathion or carbaryl, are not a good
idea. Such products only work for a short time, and are even more likely to kill off the bugs you want around than those you don't. With their natural enemies eliminated, pest populations will rapidly multiply and you could end
up with a bigger problem than you had before.
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Monday, November 8, 2010
Tooth Decay In Children By Feeding Through Bottle
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：128 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 0:46:45
Children are the most vulnerable to suffer from teeth problems. Tooth decay is one of the most common problems among children. The children lose their temporary teeth and later on get permanent teeth, but it is of true importance that parents take the best oral and dental hygiene of their kids to ensure that their baby lives a healthy life.
One of the rising causes of tooth decay in children is because of feeding through bottle. Babies are given fruit juices and different sugary drinks, milk formulas, etc. and the residual sugary drinks when present on the teeth for a long time results in bacteria acting on them. If this occurs on a continued, time to time basis, then there is a lot of chance that the child will suffer from tooth decay.
Tooth decay is a very painful situation and if the child suffers from such, then he or she needs to get treatment on an immediate basis. The function of babys temporary teeth is to act as a guide for the permanent ones. If the temporary teeth are distorted, then it would not allow the permanent teeth to grow in the proper position. If the decay is not controlled, then this can lead to an abscessed tooth.
The other thing that the parents need to be aware of is the fact that abscessed tooth can lead to involve infecting other teeth as well. It is important that parents must know how to prevent their kids from having tooth decay. The first step is to not give any sugary drinks to your children in feeding bottles. It is best to give plain water in bottles. If you give pacifier to your child, then remember to not dip it into any sugary substances.
Do not nurse your child throughout the night, as tooth decay can occur through breast milk. It would be best that you not add much sugar to the childs food, as it can cause the sugar to rest on teeth and in turn bacteria can act on them leading to tooth decay. After you have fed your child with milk, it would be best to clean the gums after feeding with a wet cloth. This would prevent development of plaque and ultimately tooth decay.
It is best to consult your health practitioner as to when the child can start using the fluoride products. It is of utmost importance that parents take on healthy feeding practices for their children as it is up to them that the children do not develop any tooth related problems. As an advice to parents, it is best that when their kid reaches the age of 1, they should move them to use sippy cups rather than using feeding bottles.
This is important to prevent tooth decay in children. As another advice, the parents should not give sugary products to kids in sippy cups, as the longer the kids are going to use the sippy cups with sugary drinks, the risk of tooth decay rises in proportion to that. Therefore it is best to use safe practices to prevent tooth decay in children.
Children are the most vulnerable to suffer from teeth problems. Tooth decay is one of the most common problems among children. The children lose their temporary teeth and later on get permanent teeth, but it is of true importance that parents take the best oral and dental hygiene of their kids to ensure that their baby lives a healthy life.
One of the rising causes of tooth decay in children is because of feeding through bottle. Babies are given fruit juices and different sugary drinks, milk formulas, etc. and the residual sugary drinks when present on the teeth for a long time results in bacteria acting on them. If this occurs on a continued, time to time basis, then there is a lot of chance that the child will suffer from tooth decay.
Tooth decay is a very painful situation and if the child suffers from such, then he or she needs to get treatment on an immediate basis. The function of babys temporary teeth is to act as a guide for the permanent ones. If the temporary teeth are distorted, then it would not allow the permanent teeth to grow in the proper position. If the decay is not controlled, then this can lead to an abscessed tooth.
The other thing that the parents need to be aware of is the fact that abscessed tooth can lead to involve infecting other teeth as well. It is important that parents must know how to prevent their kids from having tooth decay. The first step is to not give any sugary drinks to your children in feeding bottles. It is best to give plain water in bottles. If you give pacifier to your child, then remember to not dip it into any sugary substances.
Do not nurse your child throughout the night, as tooth decay can occur through breast milk. It would be best that you not add much sugar to the childs food, as it can cause the sugar to rest on teeth and in turn bacteria can act on them leading to tooth decay. After you have fed your child with milk, it would be best to clean the gums after feeding with a wet cloth. This would prevent development of plaque and ultimately tooth decay.
It is best to consult your health practitioner as to when the child can start using the fluoride products. It is of utmost importance that parents take on healthy feeding practices for their children as it is up to them that the children do not develop any tooth related problems. As an advice to parents, it is best that when their kid reaches the age of 1, they should move them to use sippy cups rather than using feeding bottles.
This is important to prevent tooth decay in children. As another advice, the parents should not give sugary products to kids in sippy cups, as the longer the kids are going to use the sippy cups with sugary drinks, the risk of tooth decay rises in proportion to that. Therefore it is best to use safe practices to prevent tooth decay in children.
About Mesothelioma caused by exposure to asbestos.
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：106 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 0:47:26
Mesothelioma is a cancer which appears to be increasing. Perhaps more accurately it is now being diagnosed more frequently and often resulting from exposure to asbestos maybe 15, 25, 35 or more years ago. Because the effects usually remain undetected for many years the most at risk categories of becoming a mesothelioma victim are men in their 60s, 70s or 80s who worked with asbestos many years ago. In years past there was obviously less physical protection in terms of protective clothing and masks and fewer health and safety regulations to conform to. The workers were continually exposed to the asbestos fibres (the UK spelling) and dust which caused the cells of the mesothelium to become abnormal. Because the disease frequently takes decades to develop fully many of them were oblivious to the problem until thirty to fifty years later. It is these men who are now issuing multi-million dollar mesothelioma lawsuits seeking compensation against the companies that exposed them to the dangers of asbestos, even though they were aware, in many cases, that it could cause harm to the employees. Mesothelioma legal advice is big business because of the potential for high settlement awards.
There are also other people at risk from the disease; namely those who have had regular contact with a person who has worked with asbestos. People who worked with asbestos would carry asbestos dust and asbestos fibres on their clothes, skin and in their hair back to their home. Once in the home the fibres and dust were a source of asbestos poisoning to all family members. For example a wife who washed her husbands clothes would herself be at risk of developing mesothelioma, respiratory problems or another asbestos related disease.
In simple terms our internal organs are protected, covered or lined with the mesothelium (the cells are referred to as the mesothelial cells). Asbestos is a naturally occurring mineral which is usually presented in a fibre form. Exposure to these fibres, without suitable protective clothing and breathing equipment, means the body then absorbs the asbestos fibers and dust. Old asbestos installations maybe surrounded by accumulated asbestos dust which is also a severe hazard.
Types of Mesothelioma.
o - Pleural mesothelioma the most frequently diagnosed type of this disease and effects the lungs and breathing. o - Peritoneal mesothelioma less frequent and is typically found in the abdomen, stomach and bowels. o - Pericardial mesothelioma - much less frequently found and affects the heart.
Many of the symptoms are similar in each of the mesothelioma types in the early stages at least to other less dangerous and more frequently diagnosed illnesses. If you have any reason or cause to believe you had exposure to asbestos then consult your doctor and discuss your concerns. The symptoms and the latency period of this disease mean that it is difficult to diagnose.
Mesothelioma Treatment.
Mesothelioma is a cancer which appears to be increasing. Perhaps more accurately it is now being diagnosed more frequently and often resulting from exposure to asbestos maybe 15, 25, 35 or more years ago. Because the effects usually remain undetected for many years the most at risk categories of becoming a mesothelioma victim are men in their 60s, 70s or 80s who worked with asbestos many years ago. In years past there was obviously less physical protection in terms of protective clothing and masks and fewer health and safety regulations to conform to. The workers were continually exposed to the asbestos fibres (the UK spelling) and dust which caused the cells of the mesothelium to become abnormal. Because the disease frequently takes decades to develop fully many of them were oblivious to the problem until thirty to fifty years later. It is these men who are now issuing multi-million dollar mesothelioma lawsuits seeking compensation against the companies that exposed them to the dangers of asbestos, even though they were aware, in many cases, that it could cause harm to the employees. Mesothelioma legal advice is big business because of the potential for high settlement awards.
There are also other people at risk from the disease; namely those who have had regular contact with a person who has worked with asbestos. People who worked with asbestos would carry asbestos dust and asbestos fibres on their clothes, skin and in their hair back to their home. Once in the home the fibres and dust were a source of asbestos poisoning to all family members. For example a wife who washed her husbands clothes would herself be at risk of developing mesothelioma, respiratory problems or another asbestos related disease.
In simple terms our internal organs are protected, covered or lined with the mesothelium (the cells are referred to as the mesothelial cells). Asbestos is a naturally occurring mineral which is usually presented in a fibre form. Exposure to these fibres, without suitable protective clothing and breathing equipment, means the body then absorbs the asbestos fibers and dust. Old asbestos installations maybe surrounded by accumulated asbestos dust which is also a severe hazard.
Types of Mesothelioma.
o - Pleural mesothelioma the most frequently diagnosed type of this disease and effects the lungs and breathing. o - Peritoneal mesothelioma less frequent and is typically found in the abdomen, stomach and bowels. o - Pericardial mesothelioma - much less frequently found and affects the heart.
Many of the symptoms are similar in each of the mesothelioma types in the early stages at least to other less dangerous and more frequently diagnosed illnesses. If you have any reason or cause to believe you had exposure to asbestos then consult your doctor and discuss your concerns. The symptoms and the latency period of this disease mean that it is difficult to diagnose.
Mesothelioma Treatment.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Become a Currency Trader - Build Wealth With This Proven Strategy
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：124 UpdateTime：2008-10-18 23:58:12
If you want to become a currency trader you need a forex trading strategy and here we are going to outline one which could make you big profits in 30 minutes a day or less...
Before we get started lets make some points in regard to getting the best forex trading education.
1. You don't get rewarded for effort, you get rewarded for being right and that means working smart Not Hard.
2. Forex trading can be learned by anyone and simple forex trading systems are best. This means you don't have to be clever and have a college education.
3. Ignore anyone trying to sell you forex robots or sure fire trading systems, as they always come with simulated track records and have never made money in real time.
So with those 3 points made, its time to start learning currency trading the right way and putting your proven forex strategy for profits together.
So what sort of forex strategy works best?
Take a look at any forex chart and you will see trends that last for weeks, months or even years. If you can catch just 50% of these major trends, you will be very rich.
Now look at your forex charts and you will see that most of the best trends start and continue from new market highs, so by buying them, you can make a lot of money.
A Long Term Breakout Trading System
So you are going to use a long term forex trading system, based upon buying breakouts and this is easy to do.
When buying breakouts though, you must only buy valid ones and this means areas that have been tested a lot and the market considers important. Look for lot of tests and the more time frames and the wider apart they occur, the better.
Once this is done you need to wait for the break and look to buy it - but before you do, you need to confirm that price momentum is on your side.
You can do this with just a couple of momentum oscillators, they will confirm price velocity is accelerating and confirm the move. There discussed fully in our other articles but two of the best are the stochastic and the RSI and they are visual indicators and will take you less than an hour to learn.
Once you have gone with the break, put your stop below the breakout and let the trend get underway, you then need to trail your stop outside of normal volatility.
That's it!
Does it make money? Yes it does.
You need to be selective with the breakouts you choose - but the advantage of a long term breakout system is it only takes 30 minutes or less to execute a day and it can pile up huge profits in reward for your effort.
Most Traders don't do it and lose
This is why it's so effective.
When a break occurs, they won't go with it, they want to wait for a dip, to get in at a better price - but the valid breakouts don't pullback, so you need to take them. The above also means you don't trade much and while there is no correlation between how much you trade and how much you make, most traders like to trade frequently and lose.
I use a simple trend following breakout strategy and have for 25 years and believe me it's capable of giving you bigger profits, for less effort than any other trading methodology.
Simple yes, but very profitable.
If you want to become a currency trader from home, use a breakout strategy and focus on the long term and you can enjoy currency trading success.
If you want to become a currency trader you need a forex trading strategy and here we are going to outline one which could make you big profits in 30 minutes a day or less...
Before we get started lets make some points in regard to getting the best forex trading education.
1. You don't get rewarded for effort, you get rewarded for being right and that means working smart Not Hard.
2. Forex trading can be learned by anyone and simple forex trading systems are best. This means you don't have to be clever and have a college education.
3. Ignore anyone trying to sell you forex robots or sure fire trading systems, as they always come with simulated track records and have never made money in real time.
So with those 3 points made, its time to start learning currency trading the right way and putting your proven forex strategy for profits together.
So what sort of forex strategy works best?
Take a look at any forex chart and you will see trends that last for weeks, months or even years. If you can catch just 50% of these major trends, you will be very rich.
Now look at your forex charts and you will see that most of the best trends start and continue from new market highs, so by buying them, you can make a lot of money.
A Long Term Breakout Trading System
So you are going to use a long term forex trading system, based upon buying breakouts and this is easy to do.
When buying breakouts though, you must only buy valid ones and this means areas that have been tested a lot and the market considers important. Look for lot of tests and the more time frames and the wider apart they occur, the better.
Once this is done you need to wait for the break and look to buy it - but before you do, you need to confirm that price momentum is on your side.
You can do this with just a couple of momentum oscillators, they will confirm price velocity is accelerating and confirm the move. There discussed fully in our other articles but two of the best are the stochastic and the RSI and they are visual indicators and will take you less than an hour to learn.
Once you have gone with the break, put your stop below the breakout and let the trend get underway, you then need to trail your stop outside of normal volatility.
That's it!
Does it make money? Yes it does.
You need to be selective with the breakouts you choose - but the advantage of a long term breakout system is it only takes 30 minutes or less to execute a day and it can pile up huge profits in reward for your effort.
Most Traders don't do it and lose
This is why it's so effective.
When a break occurs, they won't go with it, they want to wait for a dip, to get in at a better price - but the valid breakouts don't pullback, so you need to take them. The above also means you don't trade much and while there is no correlation between how much you trade and how much you make, most traders like to trade frequently and lose.
I use a simple trend following breakout strategy and have for 25 years and believe me it's capable of giving you bigger profits, for less effort than any other trading methodology.
Simple yes, but very profitable.
If you want to become a currency trader from home, use a breakout strategy and focus on the long term and you can enjoy currency trading success.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Baby Travel Systems Strollers with Extras
Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：36 UpdateTime：2008-10-18 23:31:08
Baby travel systems have come a long way since the small, rickety strollers of years ago. Today you can find a stroller in the shape of most any tractor or animal around. In addition, many of the strollers come with extra features that were unheard of even as long as 10 or 20 years back. Stroller manufacturers are now listening to the cries of parents and nannies for easier maneuvering, meaning bigger, easier wheels; better construction and bigger areas for the baby or child. And many parents want one item to carry, not several, so manufacturers gave them what they wanted in the 2-in-1 stroller.
Baby travel systems are multi-use strollers, also referred to as a 2-in-1 strollers, which are actually a car seat and a stroller all in one unit. No need to carry both whenever you have to travel to a restaurant or mall. The baby is in the car seat which locks on to the frame of the stroller and can be wheeled around like a stroller. Everything is coordinated and makes a nice, matching statement for the car seat and stroller because they are basically the same piece of equipment. There is no longer a need to carry a stroller and a car seat with you when you go traveling.
There are baby travel systems that contain more than one piece of equipment such as a car seat and a seat for a sibling or another child. These are usually double strollers and come in handy for families with more than one child under the age of three. As a parent, its often difficult to justify one child sitting and riding in the stroller while the other has to walk, with the double stroller or one that has an extra seat in the back for a sibling, there is no worries about who needs to walk or why.
Some of the baby travel systems are more like a crib on wheels than a stroller. They look like a bassinet and can fold up to where the child is sitting up and you can have two children facing each other which can prove to be very entertaining for the children and the parents. Or, one or both babies lying down, sleeping while you push the stroller. Several of the bassinet-style strollers can be adjusted as the child ages and becomes more of a sit down stroller for the child so that they can enjoy the ride more than when they were lying down as a baby.
There are baby travel systems for boys and girls; the girls have bright pink, sometimes Barbie style wagons, and the boys have John Deer Tractor style strollers which help to distinguish them apart from one another while strolling down the pathway in the park or the mall. They are very fashionable and also come in the 2-in-1 design with the car seat as an attachment. Many of the baby travel systems come with accessories such as built-in toys, cup holders, baskets and sometimes matching diaper bags.
Baby travel systems have come a long way since the small, rickety strollers of years ago. Today you can find a stroller in the shape of most any tractor or animal around. In addition, many of the strollers come with extra features that were unheard of even as long as 10 or 20 years back. Stroller manufacturers are now listening to the cries of parents and nannies for easier maneuvering, meaning bigger, easier wheels; better construction and bigger areas for the baby or child. And many parents want one item to carry, not several, so manufacturers gave them what they wanted in the 2-in-1 stroller.
Baby travel systems are multi-use strollers, also referred to as a 2-in-1 strollers, which are actually a car seat and a stroller all in one unit. No need to carry both whenever you have to travel to a restaurant or mall. The baby is in the car seat which locks on to the frame of the stroller and can be wheeled around like a stroller. Everything is coordinated and makes a nice, matching statement for the car seat and stroller because they are basically the same piece of equipment. There is no longer a need to carry a stroller and a car seat with you when you go traveling.
There are baby travel systems that contain more than one piece of equipment such as a car seat and a seat for a sibling or another child. These are usually double strollers and come in handy for families with more than one child under the age of three. As a parent, its often difficult to justify one child sitting and riding in the stroller while the other has to walk, with the double stroller or one that has an extra seat in the back for a sibling, there is no worries about who needs to walk or why.
Some of the baby travel systems are more like a crib on wheels than a stroller. They look like a bassinet and can fold up to where the child is sitting up and you can have two children facing each other which can prove to be very entertaining for the children and the parents. Or, one or both babies lying down, sleeping while you push the stroller. Several of the bassinet-style strollers can be adjusted as the child ages and becomes more of a sit down stroller for the child so that they can enjoy the ride more than when they were lying down as a baby.
There are baby travel systems for boys and girls; the girls have bright pink, sometimes Barbie style wagons, and the boys have John Deer Tractor style strollers which help to distinguish them apart from one another while strolling down the pathway in the park or the mall. They are very fashionable and also come in the 2-in-1 design with the car seat as an attachment. Many of the baby travel systems come with accessories such as built-in toys, cup holders, baskets and sometimes matching diaper bags.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Non-confrontational approach for uncontested divorce
If you are having marriage problems, and you want to end the marriage then the answer may be an uncontested divorce. Whether a divorce is Uncontested depends on the relationship of the parties themselves.If both the
spouses are agree as to each and every issue regarding their divorce then our lawyer can assist the parties to proceed the process uncontested divorce. An uncontested divorce is very economical and tends to reduce the
emotional chaos associated with the marriage breakdown. We provide the service of uncontested Divorce which is your answer to a Quick Divorce, Online Divorce, a Simple Divorce, a Cheap Divorce, and a Fast Divorce.
An Uncontested Divorce occurs where both spouses agree on the every issue before speaking with an attorney. This results in an amicable separation and quick divorce. If you have decided on your marital division, we are
here to help.
"A divorce can be a heavy financial burden, costing thousands of dollars."
Florida uncontested divorce attorneys
One of the benefits of filing an Online Divorce Florida is that our law firm can represent both parties, thus saving on attorney's fees. The decree and petition are then filed and the divorce will soon be finalized, usually within a
month. We are a Paralegal Services Firm, nit a Law Firm. We guarantee acceptance of your court filing.
"Paralegal service firm worry about the law so you don't have to."
Many couples think that they can do an uncontested divorce on their own, but they do not know what they are getting themselves into. Do it yourself forms have their uses, but do you really understand what you are filling out?
Making a mistake in that form during an uncontested divorce can cost both of you and your spouse money down the road. An attorney can catch and recognize unforeseen circumstances and help protect cases from
becoming costly. So what to do?
Answer:" If you need help in filling for an uncontested divorce, our attorneys can help you through this process quickly and efficiently. Contact by phone at 888.556.8543 to speak with a lawyer today."
Paralegal services are a group of experienced family law paralegals who provide online divorce to married individuals, helping them complete their court divorce filings.
Law firms can help you in divorce online. We provide cost-effective advice to couples seeking quick divorce. A Law firm introduces no fault divorces to help ease the pain and trauma of a marriage breakdown. We provide a
constructive procedure as a way of resolving differences. Members aim to avoid inflaming disputes and encourage parents to co-operate in the interests of their offspring and place the childs interests first.
spouses are agree as to each and every issue regarding their divorce then our lawyer can assist the parties to proceed the process uncontested divorce. An uncontested divorce is very economical and tends to reduce the
emotional chaos associated with the marriage breakdown. We provide the service of uncontested Divorce which is your answer to a Quick Divorce, Online Divorce, a Simple Divorce, a Cheap Divorce, and a Fast Divorce.
An Uncontested Divorce occurs where both spouses agree on the every issue before speaking with an attorney. This results in an amicable separation and quick divorce. If you have decided on your marital division, we are
here to help.
"A divorce can be a heavy financial burden, costing thousands of dollars."
Florida uncontested divorce attorneys
One of the benefits of filing an Online Divorce Florida is that our law firm can represent both parties, thus saving on attorney's fees. The decree and petition are then filed and the divorce will soon be finalized, usually within a
month. We are a Paralegal Services Firm, nit a Law Firm. We guarantee acceptance of your court filing.
"Paralegal service firm worry about the law so you don't have to."
Many couples think that they can do an uncontested divorce on their own, but they do not know what they are getting themselves into. Do it yourself forms have their uses, but do you really understand what you are filling out?
Making a mistake in that form during an uncontested divorce can cost both of you and your spouse money down the road. An attorney can catch and recognize unforeseen circumstances and help protect cases from
becoming costly. So what to do?
Answer:" If you need help in filling for an uncontested divorce, our attorneys can help you through this process quickly and efficiently. Contact by phone at 888.556.8543 to speak with a lawyer today."
Paralegal services are a group of experienced family law paralegals who provide online divorce to married individuals, helping them complete their court divorce filings.
Law firms can help you in divorce online. We provide cost-effective advice to couples seeking quick divorce. A Law firm introduces no fault divorces to help ease the pain and trauma of a marriage breakdown. We provide a
constructive procedure as a way of resolving differences. Members aim to avoid inflaming disputes and encourage parents to co-operate in the interests of their offspring and place the childs interests first.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Wireless Security GSM, LAN and Wi-Fi Networks
GSM phones use encrypted technology that enables secure voice and data transfer during calls. GSM technology uses an algorithm to ensure the authenticity of the caller and the integrity of the channel, even when you are
roaming in a foreign country.
The most interesting, and potentially contentious area of wireless security is that concerning wireless LANs or Wi-Fi networks, these are fast becoming the connection method of choice. Wireless signals do not recognize
corporate or geographical boundaries and are only limited by the propagation configuration of the network. Even in an office environment you will find small areas or "blind spots" where the coverage is very weak or non-
existent. So, it is possible for the random surfer to "happen upon" on someone elses network. How can one protect against this happening?
Wireless local area networks use spread-spectrum technology - a technique that makes the radio signals difficult to intercept. Most Wi-Fi systems also include a form of user logon and password protection. Of course, the
spread spectrum signals can be intercepted with a relatively simple wireless card and many networks do not properly set up the password feature and will allow ready access to anyone. The fact that "employees" have to go
through some form of physical security before they can access the network only adds to the notion that wireless networks may not be as secure as equipment manufacturers would have us believe.
The problem with wireless security is essentially a technical issue with the way the signals are encrypted. The original wireless LANs (WLANs) used the Wireless Encryption Protocol (WEP). This was then replaced in late 2002
with the Wi-Fi Protected Access (WPA). Essentially, WPA offered improved data encryption through the use of temporal key integrity protocol (TKIP). The TKIP feature scrambles the keys using a hashing algorithm and
ensures that the keys have not been tampered with. WEP only uses a static key that is seldom changed by users. This cryptographic weakness caused many of the security breaches in WLANs because intruders could, with
relative ease, generate an encryption key and access a wireless network.
While WPA offers enhanced security features over WEP, not all industry observers are completely satisfied. A recent problem was highlighted with WPA concerning the use of poorly chosen passwords for a network. Criminals
intent on compromising a WLAN can use simple dictionary software to overcome the system password. In fairness, this weakness only manifests itself when short, text-based keys are used and does not signify a fault in the
WPA protocol. WLAN manufacturers can circumvent this problem by incorporating the ability to generate random keys across the network and putting in place user requirements concerning the length and style of passwords.
Microsoft responded to this potential threat by providing a Windows XP download that alters the way the operating systems communicates with the Wi-Fi network - using separately generated keys for each system user rather
than one, albeit encrypted, key for the network connection.
roaming in a foreign country.
The most interesting, and potentially contentious area of wireless security is that concerning wireless LANs or Wi-Fi networks, these are fast becoming the connection method of choice. Wireless signals do not recognize
corporate or geographical boundaries and are only limited by the propagation configuration of the network. Even in an office environment you will find small areas or "blind spots" where the coverage is very weak or non-
existent. So, it is possible for the random surfer to "happen upon" on someone elses network. How can one protect against this happening?
Wireless local area networks use spread-spectrum technology - a technique that makes the radio signals difficult to intercept. Most Wi-Fi systems also include a form of user logon and password protection. Of course, the
spread spectrum signals can be intercepted with a relatively simple wireless card and many networks do not properly set up the password feature and will allow ready access to anyone. The fact that "employees" have to go
through some form of physical security before they can access the network only adds to the notion that wireless networks may not be as secure as equipment manufacturers would have us believe.
The problem with wireless security is essentially a technical issue with the way the signals are encrypted. The original wireless LANs (WLANs) used the Wireless Encryption Protocol (WEP). This was then replaced in late 2002
with the Wi-Fi Protected Access (WPA). Essentially, WPA offered improved data encryption through the use of temporal key integrity protocol (TKIP). The TKIP feature scrambles the keys using a hashing algorithm and
ensures that the keys have not been tampered with. WEP only uses a static key that is seldom changed by users. This cryptographic weakness caused many of the security breaches in WLANs because intruders could, with
relative ease, generate an encryption key and access a wireless network.
While WPA offers enhanced security features over WEP, not all industry observers are completely satisfied. A recent problem was highlighted with WPA concerning the use of poorly chosen passwords for a network. Criminals
intent on compromising a WLAN can use simple dictionary software to overcome the system password. In fairness, this weakness only manifests itself when short, text-based keys are used and does not signify a fault in the
WPA protocol. WLAN manufacturers can circumvent this problem by incorporating the ability to generate random keys across the network and putting in place user requirements concerning the length and style of passwords.
Microsoft responded to this potential threat by providing a Windows XP download that alters the way the operating systems communicates with the Wi-Fi network - using separately generated keys for each system user rather
than one, albeit encrypted, key for the network connection.
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